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WHIMSICALITIES:
A PERIODICAL GATHERING,
BY
THOMAS HOOD.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED ;
«*YORK AND LANCASTER"
AND "LOST AND FOUND »— A FRAGMENT
(HITHKKTO UXPUBLI3HEI)),
THE "EPPING HUNT" AND "EUGENE ARAM."
WITH THE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS
BY THE AUTHOR, JOHN LEECH, GEORGE CRUIKSHANK, AND
W. HARVEY,
LO
E. M O X O N, S O o£ C O M P A N Y,
DORSET L^UILDINGS, SALISBURY SQUARE.
« • * •
PREFACE
The admirers of Thomas Hood's versatile genius will, it
is hoped, find the present volume an acceptable addition to
those already issued, containing as it does some remarkable
specimens of his writings. The " Dream of Eugene Aram "
is given with the original illustrations by the late William
Harvey, — and the " Epping Hunt," with those by George
Cruikshank. The " Whimsicalities " are enriched by the
admirable designs of the late John Leech — as well as by
some of the author's own quaint drawings.
The selection has been made in the belief that the re-issue
of these in somewhat of their original form, and with the
identical illustrations, would meet with a general welcome.
To some they will be as the familiar faces of old friends
long passed from sight, — while it is hoped they will be
similarly appreciated by new acquaintances.
938538
PRE b ACE.
To the above are added, the only two dramatic works
extant of Thomas Hood. There is some reason to believe
he wrote another short piece, while he materially aided, if
he did not entirely write, one or two entertainments for
Charles Mathews. But of these no trace remains, and
they are doubtless as hopelessly lost as the " copy of the
pantomime* '* for which old Godbee wrote such a pathetic
request. Fragments are they, and they bear witness to the
skill with which Thomas Hood could have written for the
stage, had he turned more attention to it.
FEANCES FREELING BRODERIP.
* See " MemotialB of Thoma? Hood," Ciac*. J.
PREFACE.
It is proper to state that the majority of the papers in
the present Volumes were contributed to the New Monthly
Magazine during the Author's late Editorship of that
Periodical. Whether they deserved reprinting or repress-
ing, must be determined between the public and the literary
Court of Review.
As usual, the Reader will vainly look in my pages for
any startling theological revelations, profound political
PREFACE.
views, philological disquisitions, or scientific discoveries.
As fruitlessly will he seek for any Transcendental specu-
lations, Antiquarian gossip, or Statistical Table Talk. And
least of all will he find any discussion of those topics
which occupy the leaders and misleaders of the daily
prints : — for any enlightenment, Bude or Boccius, on the
dark ways of Parliament and Downing Streets, or the
dangerous crossing between the Church and the Catholic
Chapel. He might as well expect to have his cigar
lighted by the Sun, or his " arms found " by the " Morning
Herald."
As little will the anticipations be realised of the feminine
reader, who seeks for love rhapsodies, higher flown than the
Aerial Carriage ; for scenes of what is called Fashionable
Life ; or the serious sentimentalities of that new Paradoxurus
the Religious Novel. She might as well go to St. Benet
Sherehog for Berlin wool ; or hope to dance, at the Ball of
St. Paul's, to Weippert's last New Quadrilles.
My humble aim has been chiefly to amuse ; but the
liberal Utilitarian will, perhaps, discern some small at-
tempts to instruct at the same time. He will, maybe,
detect in " The Defaulter," a warning against rash and
uncharitable judgments ; in the " Black Job," a " take care
of your pockets, from the Pseudo-Philanthropists ; " in
"Mr. Withering's Cure," a hint on Domestic Economy; in
the " Omnibus," a lesson to Prudery ; and in the " News
from China," a satire on maternal over-indulgence, and the
neglect of moral culture in the young. He may, possibly,
discover in the " Earth Quakers," a hit at the astrological
quackery, not only of Doctor Dee, but of more modern
Zadkiels ; and recognise in the " Grimsby Ghost," the cor-
rection of a Vulgar Error, that Spirits come and go on
very immaterial errands. In the " Schoolmistress Abroad,'*
PREFACE.
a deliberate design is acknowledged, to show up that
system of Boarding School Education which renders a
Young Lady as eligible for a wife, as a strange female
would be for a Housekeeper, with only a Twelfth Night
character.
Here this Preface might end ; but old associations, and
the approach of a season specially devoted to hospitality,
good fellowship, charity, and the Christian virtues, irresist-
ibly impel me to the expression of a few benevolent wishes
towards the World in general, and my own Country, nay,
my own County in particular. We have all an open, or
sneaking kindness, for our peculiar province, as the sport-
ing yeomanry well knew, and felt, when they translated
Pitt's regimental motto, which they pronounced " Pro Haris
et Focis," — for our Hares and Foxes.
In this spirit, my kindest aspirations are offered to my
Readers, and in particular to those nearest home. If there
be any truth in the statistics of publication, my Comic
Annuals, heretofore, have afforded some slight diversion to
the cares of Man, Woman, and Middlesex, and it is my
earnest hope and ambition that my " Whimsicalities " may
still serve the same purpose in the same " trumpery sphere."
If a word may be added, it is a good one in favour of the
Artist who has supplied the illustrations ; and who promises,
by his progressive improvement, that hereafter our " Leech
Gatherers " shall not only collect in bags or baskets, but in
portfolios.
THOMAS HOOD.
December Uh^ 1843.
CONTENTS,
rASB
Preface • • . • . • .
iii
York and Lancaster ; or, A School without Scholars
1
Lost and Found (a Fragment). A Faroe .
28
Anacreontic. By a Footman
51
The Schoolmistress Abroad .
52
The Tower of Lahneck. A Romance
110
Epigram — On the Art-Unions
122
To my Daughter, On her Birthday.
123
Howqua . . . ,
124
A Sea-Totaller
124
On a certain Locality
135
A Sketch on the Road
186
The Forge. A Romance of the Iron Age.
Part L
133
Part n.
143
153
The Defaulter. " An Owre True Tale "
Epigram— On Mrs. Parkes's Pamphlet
176
An Extraordinary Operation
177
The Earth-Quakers .
181
Sonnet . . . ,
198
The Grimsby Ghost .
199
No
224
Epigram — On a late Cattle-show in Smithfield »
. 226
A Black Job .
«
. 226
CONTENTS.
Epigram — On Lieutenant Eyre's Narrative of tlio Die-
asters at Cabul ....
Mrs. Gardiner. A Horticultural Romance
A Morning Thought
The Repeal of the Union
A Tale of Terror
A Very So-So Character
Laying down the Law
A Custom-House Breeze
Epigram — The Superiority of Machinery
More Hullah-Baloo .
The Flower ....
Hydropathy, or the Cold Water Cure, as Practised by
Vincent Priessnitz, at Grafenberg. By R. T. Claridge,
Esq. ....
Mr. Chubb ....
Notes on Shakespeare
News from China . . .
New Hamorny
Party Spirit ....
Etching Moralised .
The Happiest Man in England. A Sketch on the Road.
Spring ....
The Longest Hour in my Life ; an Extravaganza.
An Undertaker
A First Attempt in Rhyme .
Horse and Foot
Pirouettes ....
The Season ....
The University Feud
A Reftection on New Year's Eve .
Diabolical Suggestions
A Hard Case ....
An Epigram . . r r
On the Portrait of a Lady, taken by the Daguerreotype
TAQV
The Lee Shore
. 482
English Ketrogression . . . .
. 483
Epigram ......
. 486
Epigram— On the Depreciated Currency .
. 487
The Camberwell Beauty. A City Romance
. 487
The Little Browns ....
. 508
The Omnibus. A Sketch on the Road
. 513
The Turtles
. 519
The Confessions of a Phoenix
. 525
The Epping Hunt .
, .. 554
Epigram— On the Chinese Treaty
. 580
Eugene Aram.
. 581
The Defence of Eugene Aram
. .585
The Dream of Eugene Aram
. 693
Mr. Wakley and the Poeta .
» •
. 003
YOEK AKD LANCASTER.
OR,
A SCHOOL WITHOUT SCHOLARS.
(original cast.)
DRAMATIS PEESONiE.
Jeremiah Snaffle (ex-Horsedealer at
York, now a Yorkshire Schoolmaster)
Jack Wilson (in love with Miss Snaffle,
and residing at the School in disguise
of a Mathematical Usher. Afterwards a
French Usher, and finally his own Father)
Old Wilson (Father of the above)
Master Timothy (a decoy pupil)
Mrs. Snaffle
Miss Snaffle MRS. FITZ WILLI AM
[The scene throughout is in the School-room.]
MR. MATHEWS.
MR. YATES.
MR.BUCKSTONE.
MR. WILKINSON.
MRS. DALY.
Scene. — A School-room.
Timothy discovered sitting on a form playing at French and
English on a large slate. After awhile he throws down ike slate.
Tim. It's no use. I can't cipher by myse/f. I stick at
units {comes forward). When old Snaffle set up school, my
father lent me to him to begin \vith. I wish he'd pay me back
,?<..; c ;^ ' ', YORK AND LANCASTER.
agin. I never see sich a school ! — There's only one class, and
only one boy in it. I'm top and bottom too ! I can't bear it.
I've no playfellows. There's no fun in Prisoner's Base by one's
self! I've got a new kite but I can't fly it — there's no one to
hold its tail up ! I can't play at horses — there's nobody to drive
me ! I can't play at marlows, except right hand agin left — and
right always wins ! I'm sick o' hoop ! I've got a cricket-bat,
but I'm always in — for there's no one to bowl me out. My
racquet's of no use, one can't play at Jives ! Leap-frog's un-
possible ! So's Hare and Hounds. I tried yesterday to run a
race with myself, and it was a dead Jieat. It's very disagreeable,
but I CBXi'iJigM ! I'm cock over nobody ! I wish I was took
away. I'd run away, only I should be so soon missed !
. Mnter Wilson as Multiply, r. h.
WiL. (Timothy here— I must get rid of him.) Well, Master
Timothy, have you done the sum I set you ?
Tim. No. How can I all alone ? I'm by myself and can't
multiply.
WiL. No matter. School's up. You may go and play.
Tim. That's a good 'un. I want to play at sogers. But I
can't be a captain, for I've got no company. A'nt I a single boy ?
WiL. You're a simple fool I What would you have? A'nt
you the best cipherer, the best reader, and the best everything
in the school ? And won't you get all the prizes at Christmas ?
Tim. No. I shall mope to death afore Michaelmas. I wish
I was at my old school at Clapham. That was a school like a
school !
Song— Timothy. Air—" The Eam of Darby.'*
When I was first a schoUard
I went to Doctor Monk,
And elephant-like I had, Sir,
A cake put in my trunk {chorus ly the musk).
rORK AND LANCASTER. 3
The Keverend Doctor Monk, Sir,
Was very grave and prim,
And a matter of six foot high, Sir,
We all look'd up to him {turning up his eytm).
He didn't pinch and starve us
As here they do at York,
For every boy was asked. Sir,
To bring " a knife and fork."
And then I had a chum, too.
To fag, and all of that ;
I made him sum up my sums, Sir,
And eat up all my fat !
We had half-a-dozen ushers
For Latin, French, and Greek,
And all that we'd got in our heads, Sir,
Was comb'd out once a week !
For goodness we had prizes.
And birch for doing ill ;
It was none o' the Birch that visits
The Bottom of Cornhill !
And if I were at Clapham,
At my old school again.
In the rod I could fancy honey.
And siigar in the cane I
WiL. It must have been a happy school indeed, Tim ; why did
you leave it ?
Tim. 'Twas all mother's fault; she thought I got hard-featured
from having a tin mug 1 I wish I was back again ; I'm vei'y
unhappy !
WiL. Pooh I — nonsense, Tim !
4 YORK AND LANCASTEE.
Tim. All ! you've got a playfellovr.
WiL. Me, Sir?
Tim. Yes. Master's daughter.
WiL. (The young rascal). Be off. Sir! you deserve to be well
flogged.
Tim. What for, now?
WiL. What for ? why for the most unscholar-like of offences,
for being in school in playtiyne !
Tim. I never knew that was a fault 5^org !
WiL. Take care you don't know it beJiind. Be off, I say
{slaps Mm.)
Tim. Oh ! oh dear ! oh dear (Jiolds his face for awhile, then
slyly taps Wilson and runs off, calling out " Touch yer last ! ")
WiL. What a melancholy attempt at play 1 Poor Timothy !
The first boy seems as uncomfortable a character as the Last
Man ! I pity him sincerely, and his master still more. Poor
Snaffle, to give up a horse repository for a boy-bazaar ; there's
his misery ! The tits have gone, but have left their traces in
his memory; his head teems with 'em; the nags are always
coming across him, and he can't retaliate ; but here comes his
sweet daughter.
Enter Maeia, r. h.
My dearest Maria.
Mar. Hush ! where's Timothy ?
WiL. Gone abroad, and by this time up in his old tree a
picking lady-birds. Do you know that young imp has noticed
us together, but never mind ; the pure love that is witnessed by
angels may be seen by the little son of a little pin-maker.
Mar. Alas 1 I have sad misgivings that the masquerade will
not last.
WiL. Never fear, I am a better actor than you take me for.
Mar. Nay, that you cannot be ; I am sure when you played
Eom!o at York, I thought you were the finest actor in the world.
YORK AND LANCASTER. 5
WiL. Ah, that happy night ! my best of benefits, for it intro-
duced me to your notice, thanks be to my dear determined old
dad for compelling me to that character, by wishing to force
me into a marriage with Miss Acres.
Mar. By-the-way, Wilson, pray describe me that lady; I long
to know what sort of being you have resigned for me. Was she
anything particular ?
WiL. ! quite unrivall'd in her way ! The youngest of
her family, but looked like the oldest. She had but one
natural eye, and one of glass. Tliey put you in mind of Bartley's
Orrery — one, fixed like a star, the other rolling about like a
planet ! Her nose, as if she had taken the first that turned up.
The feature was on one side too, and if she had followed it,
would have led her a mile astray. Hair — bright carrots, dyed
black ; but the dye had died off, and left it a pale purple. She
beat Venus in her cheeks, for they were all over dimples. And
then she had a mouth, like herself, always open to an offer.
Mar. And her figure — was she short or tall ?
WiL. As a liare is — inclined to squat on her form. Then she
was brown, as if made of the family raspings. She had a mane
down her nape, and a hump on each shoulder, like a double
dromedary !
Mar. What an object ! but to use one's own eyes in such
matters is a sort of eye treason. Parents are very unreasonable !
WiL. Oh, very ! Talk of beauty and they chime in with duty.
That's r]iym,e, not reason. And then to sacrifice the principle
of love to the interest of money ; as if, when hearts are broken
three per cent Consols would be at all consolatory !
Song — Maria. Air — " There's nae luck.*'
Is love a trade, and woman made
To go for bidder's gold ?
Wed I will not ; my single lot
Shall be a lot unsold.
1
o YOEK AND LANCA8TER.
If I would wed, must I be led.
And see thro' parents' eyes.
And even thro' their glasses too ?
I'd rather advertise !
Mar. But would your father really have forced you to marry
Miss Acres ?
WiL. Absolutely. His mind was fixed to that point like a
rusty weathercock. He's a monster of obstinacy, as stiff-backed
as a crocodile and as pig-headed as a mule ! It's quite a disease
with him. He has a determination of determination to his
head. He'd have dragged us to church on a hurdle, said
*'yes" for us both, tied us together neck and heels, and made
us man and wife in spite of ourselves. I had no chance with
him, so I ran away, changed my name, and took refuge in the
York Theatre !
Mar. Ah I there's the evil ! My step-mother was a Quaker's
widow, and has that aversion to the stage that some have to the
hackney coach. She thinks it a crazy vehicle for morality.
She would never encourage what she calls a loto tragedian. But
why not entrust her with your real character ?
WiL» Not for the world ! Her high sense : of duty and
decorum would at once send me on my knees to my father.
We must have patience, and in the meantime, by favour of this
disguise, we have the happiness of living under the same roof.
Mar. But you must find your assumed character very irk-
sonie !
WiL. Not at all. What can be a happier situation for an
usher-of-all-work than a school without scholars ? I take a stroll
when I like, that's my Walking-game ; act all 5orts of capers,
that's my Antic's Dictionary, and come home quite a Ruddy-mViU,
If anyone's to be pitied 'tis your father.
Enter Snaffle unperceived, and stands heUnd them.
Mar. Alas, poor man ! He has never held his head up
YORK AND LANCASTER. 7
since his horses came to the hammer [lie shakes his head).
There never was a sale under such a distress, he seemed knocked
down v,iih. every lot {Snaffle clasps his Imnds). First his nags
went, then his vehicles. A tandem you know was his foible,
and a Tilbury was his I'orte ! All went. Every shaft entered into
his soul ! every wheel gave him a turn ! They sold even his
favourite set-out — ^flea-bitten horse in a buggy.
WiL. Poor fellow ! to be thrown out of all his gigs at once !
Mar. It was my stepmother's doing — she insisted on a school
{Snaffle- shakes his fist). He often tells her that with her new
gigs, his heart is in a brake !
WiL. I don't doubt it. But we must expect him here shortly
and then I must be substracted froni vou, but it sha'n't be a
long division — one kiss and then—
Snaff. Woh!
WiL. The devil !
Mar. My father !
Snaff. So, Master Multiply, this be your ushering ! You're
rf pretty Tooter, aren't ye — to be tooting to my daughter ? But
come now {collaring hhn).
WiL. My dear Sir — a moment's patience {struggling), r. h.
Snaff. So ho, there — gently now ! — no kicking. It's no use
being resty wi' me {turns him out.) There now — get a bite on
the common or where ye can — and now aren't you a pretty jade
( turning toioards Maria who has run out, and Timothy has come
into her place.) Down on r. h.
Tim. No. la'ntagal!
Snaff. Master Timothy, what do you want ?
Tim. If you please, Master, I wish you'd be so good as to
expel me.
Snaff. Expel ye !
Tim. Yes, like Mr. Multiply. I can't stay in a school with-
out ushers.
8 YORK AND LANCASTER.
Snaff. There now, he's goin' unruly.
Tim. Father sent me here to be teached. But IVe only had
one lesson, and that was in farming ; you set me to dig
taters !
Snaff. They were for your own dinner, Master Timothy,
Didn't you dine on 'em ?
Tim. No. They were too waxy to make any meal of. You don't
half dine me. I'm often obliged to make out with a pennorth
of parched peas.
Snaff. If you're sarcy, you shall have liorse-beans. Master
Timothy, take care o' me — I'm in a temper — a very vicious tem-
per, and it keeps calling on me to cut^ cut, behind ! and I will,
too, dall if I don't. You young dog, if you give tongue again
I'll gi' you a switch-tail.
Tim. No, you shan't; you've no right to ill-use me; you a'lit
my father.
Snaff. There now, that's enough. Master Tim, I'll make you
more timid of me. You'd better make yourself distinctly invisi-
ble I Master Tim, you'd better be off in a tim whisky !
Tim. So I will {runs out. ) Door on l. h.
Snaff. There's a beautiful dutiful schollard ! and I've got a
beautiful dutiful daughter ! They'll gi' me the mad staggers be-
tween 'em. As for Maria, I wish she'd never been born ; I wish
she'd been born a boy, at any rate. You may send them to the
sea, to prevent them going to the D — . She'll never do well ;
never ! there's long odds agin it ; virtue's a slippery road and
females can't be rough shod ! She'll make a false step some
day, and bring down my dapple gray hair to the dust (walks
about mournfully^ This be a line business — a mortal fine busi-
ness indeed !
Enter Mrs. Snaffle, overJiearing the last words. Door r. h.
Mrs. S. Mr. Snaffle, I told you so. I knew you would be
of my opinion.
YCfjK AND Lancaster. a
S/ifAF. AVkom ? I ? About the schoolmastering ? I'm sorry
leaching were ever found out. I wish A, B, C, and the rest,
were all dead letters. I wouldnH gi' a fig for figures. I wisb
grammar were gone out, all the sign^or^s repealed, and geograplrj
hadn't a place to bide in !
Mrs. S. Mr. Snaffle, you forget the conditions of our marriage^
Snap. No I don't. When old Broadbrim died
Mks. S. Ah, that best of Quakers !
Snaf. Well, he's an Earthquaker now — dead and buried.
Mrs. S. You cruel -S/ac^ reviver; to remind me so of my
sables ! whilst my poor dear first lived, we had a deal of happu
ness between us.
Snaf. Yes, and when he died you had it all to yourself, you
know. Then you took to me, provided I give up the horse dealing.
It warn't genteel enough — so the livery stables war sold off,
and here I am with a powdery head, and black long-tails, to
break in little boys to their laming.
Mrs. S. And the best business in Yorkshire ! — It's unknown
the number of children that are sent for their education to these
parts.
Snaff. That's because we bring 'em oop so hardy, and don't
spoil and indulge 'em wi' common necessaries. When I. war in
my teens, that is my velveteens, I were a Yorkshire schollard
myself.
Mrs. S. You are then competent, of course, to manage York-
shire pupils.
Snaff. To be sure I be. Girth 'em up tight, and gi' 'em
the run of the common. That war our place for doing our
exercises. Then they clothed us. We'd b. freeze coat in winter,
and baize breeches every two years. Then they boarded us
upon oat-cakes and tatoes, but not extravagantly. They might
Have written over our mouths " No entrance req^uired.''
Mks. S. And the terms, Mr. S. %
10 YORK AND LANCASTER.
Snafp. Ten pounds a head, and no charge for taiU^ which
were main liberal, considering our tails gave most trouble. That's
the York system.
Mrs. S. Exactly. A sort of BelVs system — for wringing all
you can out of your pupils. But you know I propose to engraft
on it the Lancaster system of mutual instruction.
Snaff. Ay. For little boys teaching one another — and we've
only got Timothy ! It won't do ; anyone may see that wi' a
wall-eye.
Mils. S. You want patience. By-and-by you may have a
hundred under your rod.
Snaff. Ah ! you're so sanguinary in your prospects. I wish
I had only four-in-hand of 'em.
Mrs. S. And you're like Pilgrim's Progress — always in the
Toyid of Despond. I tell you we're on the high road to riches.
Snaff. Like many more, and can't pay the turnpikes 1
Mrs. S. Well, when things are at the worst they'll mend.
Snaff. No, they won't; you tried that, you know, on my
worst worsted stockings.
Mrs. S. No matter. You'll change your note by-and-by.
Snaff. I wish I may have a note to change! we aren't worth
our corn ! It's all feeding and no work ! we're saddled wi'
helpers too, to be keeped on at rack and manger.
Mrs. S. Saddled — helpers — racks and mangers ! There's
ostlerism ! Schools must have ushers, Mr. S. ! We must con-
tinue Mr. Multiply.
Snaff. No we munna. I've discharged un.
Mrs. S. What, by way of economy ?
Snaff. No — ^by way o' the back door ; he war got skittish
for want of work.
Mrs. S. Skittish — what's that ? some indecorum, of course.
Snaff. That's just it. He war got so idle, I catched 'im
idleizing wi' Maria ; if I had been a horse I'd have kick'd him
YOKK AND LANCASTER. 11
out, but as I were only a man I turn'd him out, and I'm happy
to say it rained.
Mrs. S. With Maria ! That girl will drive me wild ; she'll
be the death of decorum ; she breaks all the pales of delicacy
and jumps over every post of propriety ; she makes every rule
of conduct ai.footrule, for she kicks at it, and every duty a stamp
duty, for she tramples on it ; and she shows a sad want of rear-
ing up !
Snaff. No, she don't; she rears up quite enough; she'll
'plunge us all into misery.
Mrs. S. To cast her eyes on a play-actor, and now on a
'paltry usher !
Snafp. Yes, there she have put her lioof in it up to the
hock ; but I'll take care how she casts her eyes about ; dall if I
don't.
Mrs. S. As how, Mr. Snaffle?
Snafp. She shall wear hliyikers !
Mrs. S. Wear fiddlesticks ! Til take her in hand ; she shall
turn over a new leaf ; she shall turn over a new sheet ; she shall
turn over a new quire ; she shall go through a course of Mrs.
Chapone, and I'll refresh her in Dr. Gregory. She sha'n't be the
girl she has been.
Snaff. No, that's right, make her somebody else ; you must
keep a plaguy tight curb on her ! If she once gets the bit in her
teeth.
Mrs. S. There again ! Curbs and bits ; more of your low
Ideas. What have females to do with your filthy bits and
bridles ? You think you're in Prance, I suppose, where they call
their mothers mares and their daughters fillies! You'd better
introduce the stable at once to the drawing-room, turn your
beaufet to a bin, and your card racks into horse mangers.
You'll never be on good terms with decorum, your very table
talk is stable talk ; but you were born an equestrian and you'll
die one. Exit, door r. h.
12 YOKK AND LANCASTEE.
Snaff. Hum ! turn the drawing-room into a stable, I wish 1
could ! I'm sick o* the boy business ; I'd rather have young
horses to coUivate ! Ah, those war my hrigM days when I had
the hrigM bays ! and the chestnuts and the roans ; it makes me
broken-Jiearted when I think of 'em, and almost broken-winded.
I sigh sometimes like a roarer ! what's the use of being at York
when stable's done wi' ? I might as well be at Bun-stable. It's
very hard not to mount a horse agin in a county with three
ridings I I suppose I'll never hunt any more ! Good-bye to my
Lord's crack-pack ! I mun hunt now wi' a pack o' schollards ; I
mun draw the covers of old 'cademy books, follow a brick brushy
and be in at the death o' Linly Murray ! I suppose I'll see no
more racing, tho' I war mortal fond, like a skylark, o' my little
bit o' turf, but my remembrances on it are worth an old song^
any how !
Song — The Eace.
[At the conclusion of the race-song Snaffle, in his enthusiasm, gets
astride the school-form and is riding as a jockey, working away
in winning style, when he suddenly perceives Wilson, who enters
in disguise of a French Usher.) li. H.
Snaff. Eh ! what's that ! Dall ! he looks like a whisker
colt.
WiL. Serviteur, Monsieur. I demand grace for my abruptive-
ness. I shall comb again, when you shall be unhorseback'd.
Snafp. Never mind that ! my ride's rid.
WiL. Sare, you say ?
Snaff. I say, my ride's rid. You aren't oop to me, eh ?
"fViL. No, Sare, your tongue is not my tongue.
Snaff. I know it beant. Every man to his own.
WiL. Pardonnez-moi — I have not goot phrases. I shall give
you bad words. My English is broken very.
Snaff. Broke ! I wonder it a*nt Macadamised. "You ham--
mer at everv word.
YORK AND LANCASTER. 13
WiL. Do you not spik French ?
Snaff. No. I once tried the French tongue and couldn't
make a hand of it ; I couldn't bear it ! 1 had a rooted dislike to
the root and a mortal antipathy to the tip.
WiL. C'est dommage ! In dis country I am unspeakable. I
am overcome from Paris, two days backwards, to live upon some
young gentlemen.
Snaff. 0, the Parishiner I bespoke in the newspaper.
Well ! I suppose you're well up to the Parish language. Did
you always teach it for your French bread ?
WiL. Ah ! que non. Eefore dis time I am bin in de Grande
Armee. I was, what you call it? a man of war on horseback.
Snaff. 0, a dragooner. Why, then you know summut about
horses ! Mounseer — I'm very glad to see you. — You're very
welcome, Mounseer {shaking hands very heartily). You're just
the sort of kind of person for a Prench usher.
WiL. Ah, Sare, you flatter at me.
Snaff. Why, mun, I've been in the cavalry-like myself : —
had a deal to do wi' the tits. I suppose, now, you spoilt lots o*
pretty nags in the campaigning. War's a desperate Knacker.
WiL. 0, surement. In Flandets two-tree-tousand horses of
de French Armee go lame in deir hoofs.
Snaff. Hum. — You French had been at their /ro^5, eh?
WiL. In battles I have tree shargers shooted under me, my-
self ! I cry for dem like as tree shildren !
Snaff. I'm bound ye did ! Mounseer, I can enter into your
feelings. I can go along wi' em ! I, know what it is ! I could
cry like three children too ! Do you know, mun, I've lost a
hundred horses from under me.
WiL. One hundert ! — all killed wiz a ball ?
Snaff. No — all knock'd down wi' a hammer. Peace be to
their manes, poor things ! 1 hope they a'nt none of 'em got
into the po-chaises, or the hacks about in Lonnon! I'm a
14 YORK AND LANCASTER.
grievous man about 'em — judge if I beant. I keeped a stable
for fourteen year, and bad the prettiest lot o' cattle — But
they're all gone, short and long tail ! — I haven't a single horse
left to me, and life's a drag.
AViL. I symphorise wiz you — Sare, I do, from my souVs
bottom.
Snaff. That's kind of you. I like ye, I like ye, mun, for
a French usher, very much ! Consider yourself hir'd — from this
present day, Anno Domino.
WiL. Ah ! quel bonheur ! I shall make ready to aim to dls-
charge my duty. You shall see my grammaire ! I have made
a book of my tongue.
Snaff. That be main clever of ye then, tho' I be no judge
of grammaires; but bide here a bit. I'll send Maria to you: she'll
understand it. She can talk foreign languages like a bird.'
Exit, door r. h.
WiL. Send Maria to me ? How very obliging ! Good easy
Snaffle ! I thought the dragoon would take with him. If any-
one would creep ujp his sleeve they must go on horseback.
Timothy comes in quietly behind, door l. h.
Tim. O, there's the frog-eater ! I hope he won't give me
the French Mark. I've nobody to pass it to !
WiL. (Timothy, confound him ! ) Leetle boy, be very good
and make away wid yourself (Tim sulks). Yon must make a
scarcity in dis room, or I shall get some bamboo for you to be
bamboozled (Tim makes faces at him).
Enter Maria, door r. h.
Mar. I am sent to you. Sir, by my father.
WiL. Ah, oui ! I have a ting to say, but it is one secret and
must be keep'd for one ear.
Mar. a secret ! Begone, Master Timothy. Go to your play.
YOEK AND LANCASTER. 15
Tim. No I sli'a'nt ; you a'nt my missis. I can go to my play
without your orders.
Mar. a pert monkey ! Be off, Sir, or you shall have no
dinner.
Tim. Ah, that's the way. You pick a quarre^ with me at
meal-times. You stopp'd my vittles t'other day, and I was
obliged to cook my tame mouse. It's very hard ! You all
won't let me stay anywheres. By-and-by I shall he nowhere at
all. Mdt L. H.
WiL. He is no more here. Mademoiselle, you have seen'd
me befor?
Mar. Kever, Sir, to my remembrance.
WiL. Non ? Look at my face ; will you say so to it ? Is
my eyes quite out of your head ? Is my nose grow'd so far
out of knowledge ? Have you forgotten what my mouse did
ratify ?
Mar. What do I hear ! Wilson, by all that's happy.
WiL. Yes, your real beau come to teach Chamhaud. An
English original done hastily into French.
Mar. Yes, and as usual not recognisable in the translation.
Now I have hopes of your disguise ! Deceive the sharp quick
sight of Love, and you may defy Argus himself, tho' he has
lynx eyes by the long hundred ! like WhitecTiapel sharps.
WiL. O, never fear, we shall not part again in a hurry. Your
father takes to me wonderfully. I've won him, like dijlute-player^
by a little double tonguing. I've got an engagement for ever,
with a century's notice. Come, wish me joy of it. Nay, can
there be any harm in a little embrace on either side ?
Mar. Why, really, I think there must be arm^ on both sides.
{They embrace). Enter Mrs. Snaffle.
Mrs. S. What do I see ? Have I eyes in my head ? A.ra 1
awake ? I'm petrified into a stone figure in statu quo.
16 YOEK AND LANCASTER.
WiL. 0, 'tis noting but noting ; dat is all de way of i^iy
country. I am one natif of France.
Mrs. S. Then France ought to be ashamed of you : you
ought to be a naiive of nowhere.
Song — FiiENCH Usher. Air — " Saw ye Johnny cominV*
What have I done ?
-D ( Where's de harm of kissing at her ?
( What's de harm of kissing ?
Wizout kissing what would matter
If her lips was missing at her ?
If her Hps was missing ?
Turtles bill and coo so lonely
In one grove of myrtle,
Turtles bill and coo so lonely
In on-e grove of myrtle.
What haf I been doing ? only
Giving her som turtle, only
Giving her som turtle.
WiL. Is not this a land of freedoms ?
Mrs. S. But not where you're to take liberties ! you're in-
decorous. Sir!
WiL. I am not in de chorus! De noise is your noise. You
are in a chorus all by yourself.
Mrs. S. The wretch ! but begone ! Go ! leave my presence.
WiL. To where am I to go to ? I am come here to make a
full stop ; I am engaged here for a prominency ; I am to live
here, and to sleep here, and to be boarded here, and to be washed
here !
Mrs. S. But you are not ! You are to be turned out, and
washed out, and boarded out, and bolted out ! You shall quit
the house.
YORK AND LANCASTER. 17
WiL. (I see I must). I sliall he quits wid your house mo-
mently ! but you sliall yare of dis ! I sliall sew you up in a
court of laws; year fingers shall be burnt; dere shall be some
coals, and you shall be called over dem ! dere shall be a fire and
all your fat shall be in it ! make a mark on me ; I am a wrong
. pig and you have got hold of my ear. Exit as in a rage, L. ii.
Mks. S. The monster ! and you, Miss, to be so forward too !
[ shall never teach you to be backward in your advances to the
sex!
Mak. I'm sure you can't say I encouraged him.
Mrs. S. How? Didn't I see him j9w^ his face to yours?
Mar. And didn't you see me set my face against it ?
Mrs. S. I did indeed ! A foreign stranger creature you'd
never set your eyes on before.
Mar. La 1 you make so little allowance for foreign customs.
Mrs. S. Foreign fiddlesticks ! Tell me, hussy, would you
allow other foreign customs ? Would you rub noses with a Hot-
tentot ?
Mar. Why, if the feature happened to be a fine Roman
Mrs. S. Well, what then, hussy ?
Mar. Why then I believe one must do as the Romans do.
Exit.
Mrs. S. Abominable ! there's lax principles ! But she sha'n't
belong to me ! she sha'n't belong to the sex 1 she sha'n't belong
to human nature, and she sha'n't be an animal, for she'd be a
disgrace to 'em !
Enter Snaffle.
Snaff. Wei], how d'ye like my French ush — Eh! where's
the Parishiner ?
Mrs. S. Gone. Discharged. Banished !
Snaff. Banished ! What for ?
Mrs. S. For ever ! The old story. I caught him with Maria !
ilugging like two immoral hears. Mr. SnaflOi^^ — and kissing .
18 YORK AND LANCASTER.
Snaff. Kissing again ! 0, she have a hard mouth.
Mrs. S. What has that to do, pray ?
Snaff. I mean she be hard to be guided. She'll never go
steady, never ! I'll tell ye what, we've been a driving on the
wrong side o' the road wi' her.
Mrs. S. Wrong sides of roads !
Snaff. It's the way wi' womankind. She war crossed and
jostled in love.
Mrs. S. Crossed and jostled !
Snaff. Ay, and that makes her bolt out o* the course. We'd
better give her her head a bit !
Mrs. S. Give her her head indeed.
Snaff. xind we will, too. Harkye, now. You may be
wheeler in this house, but I'll be leader. We'll go abreast, any-
how, and it's your place to keep step wi' me, and lay to collar !
there now!
Mrs. S. There's horse-jargon. There's high words in loio
language. There's diction.
Snaff. No matter. Your diction be contradiction I I've a
mind to speak, and I'll speak my mind! We'd better have
match'd Maria wi' the play-fellow at York !
Timothy, l. h. door.
Tim. a play-fellow at York ! I wish I had him !
Mrs. S. Drat that bi^at ! Master Timothy, what do you
want?
Tim. / want to he amused.
Snaff. Why doan't ye go and play, then ?
Tim. Because there can't be no play with only one performer.
I want to play at horses !
Snaff. \^So do I — mor fellow).
Tim. I can't get anything I want. 1 wish I had the mumps I
Mrs. S- The mumps, child I .
YOKK AND LANCASTER. 19
Tim. Yes, or tlie measles ; for then I should be sent home
with them to my little brothers and sisters ! It's very unkind of
father to lend me so long to you !
Mrs. S. Master Timothy, Sir, be more filial. Your father's
a very good father, and a very judicious father, and a wise
father, and a very liberal father, and allows you twopence a
week !
Tim, He knows there's no use here for pocket-money. A'nt
we in the middle of Tadlin Moor, and I don't know how many
more moors ? There's plenty of Commons to be had ; but no
Parliament. I'm ten miles from the nearest loUypop ! I've
never had any sweet things but once since I come here, and that
was only briTnstone and treacle !
Mrs. S. That ungrateful boy ! It's unknown what I've done
for him ! I've wash'd him, and mark'd him, and darn'd him —
taken pieces out of him, and put pieces into him, and cut his legs
off to new-foot him with, and he can't be thankful. Have you
no punishment for him, Mr. Snaffle ? Can't you flog him ?
Snaff. No : I have nobody to hofse him. He must wait for
a hacker; and I can't send him into splitary confinement.
Tim. No : I'm confin'd to that already.
Mrs. S. No matter, I'll punish him ! I'll retrench his meals.
He shall go without bread and water !
Tim. Yes, you all agree in that. It's a shame how stingy
you are to me in vittles. I wish mother knew it ! You keep
me so short you'll stop my growth ! I'm worse off than the wild
leasts ! Nobody'd give a farthing to see me dine or si^p.
Snaff. MasLei Timothy, you'd better branch off and make
your how, or you shall be well twigg'd !
Tim. Well, there's my bow {hows), and I wish ] was going for
good. I wish I was howing away for ever. Exit L. H.
Mrs. S. There's a ipreiiy pattern for other pupils I He must
be made an example of I
20 YOEK AND LANCASTER.
Snaff. No he munna ; my mind's made up. I'll let Timothy
loose, pull down the sign-board, and take in no more schollards
to stand here ! It shall be all parted wi' ! I'll sell the seJiool
benches to an ale-home, and the use o' the globes to the howling-
green !
Mrs. S. Mr. Snaffle, are you serious, or only playing on
my feelings ?
Snaff. No, I axen't playing a tune on your feelings. I'm in
downright amest. Look at me, now ; don't you see ruination
staring you in your face ? Don't you feel we can't keep our legs ?
We'd better lock our wheel afore we go further down hill — afore
we get smash'd to bits, and has to repeat the Beggar's Petition
to the Society for Enlarging Little Debtors / You woan'tlike to
undergo an operation wi' the ^^^solvent ax !
Mes. S. Insolvence, indeed — with my fortune ! But you'll
talk differently when scholars come pouring in to us (a loud
knocking). There, now, you may say I'm a prophet.
Snaff. I wish I could ; but I'm not goin' yet to be boy'd up
wi' young gentlemen ! Gi' me a few in my hand, I don't care
for boys in bushes !
JEnter Wilson, disguised as Wilson Senior.
Young W. (Now for a last attempt. Filial piety, forgive me,
but I must mock my own father). Mr. Snaffle, eh? (/le bows).
My name's Wilson ; Wilson Senior, Sir, of Headstrong HaU.
You've heard of me, eh ?
Snaff. To be sure. Sir. You be a great farmer, and keeps
racers. You won a plate at our last meeting, when Catch-me-
who-can war distanced, and No-vere-I-know war the only colt
placed.
Young W. Drop the colts. I'm come about a son o' mine —
a son, Sir.
Mrs. S. {Therey Mr. S. — a new scholar). Your son, Sir,
YORK AND LANCASTKR. 21
shall meet with maternal attention. It's my ambition to have a
hundred boys. Sir, and to be a mother to ^em all ! I'm ac-
customed to a large, small family. I pursue a rigid system of
morals with them, and am particularly particular as io comfort
and cleanliness, you shall see I am, Sir. Here, Timothy !
Timothy, I say ! — Master Timothy.
I^nter Timothy, with his pinafore torn and stained with black-
berries, face and hands ditto.
Tim. What's the matter ? Am I fetch'd ?
Mks. S. There's a figure ! He'd bring a discredit on St.
Giles's. Where have you been. Sir ?
Tim. In the churchyard a blacJcberrying . It's all I've had to
eat, like the babes in the wood.
Snaff. Ay — and you've garm'd yourself like the robin red-
breast {pointing to his jpinafore).
Mrs. S. a young ragamuffin in effigy ! Here's pretlj be-
haviour when you're going to have a better companion.
Tim. a little un — how big ?
Mrs. S. Have patience, Sir. Pray, wlien may we look for
the young gentleman ?
Young W. You're absurd, Madam — ABsurd ! I've come to
look for him myself. He's here — in this house — came a month
ago — a calendar month, Madam —
Mrs. S. Here's juvenile depravity ! He's never been here.
Sir — never ! What a wicked long time to play truant.
Snaff. Ay, we'll have plague enough wi' him, if he runs away
from school afore coming to it !
Young W. You talk nonsense, Sir— you both talk nonsenses.
lie's run away from me. Sir — me — me ! me ! I wanted to
marry him to a fortune — one Miss Acres — one Acres — an agri-
cultural beauty, with charms —charms, Sir. Both pasture and
arable 1 '2
22 YORK AND LANCASTER.
Snafp. 0, he be fond of his wild oats ! Once I were fond o*
tcild oats myself, but now I'm one o' the have beens. We're
all rakes, you know, in our hay days.
Young W. But 1 wanted to settle him — settle him, Sir —
Snaff. And to bar that ! he bolted, eh ?
Young W. To York, Sir. York Theatre ! play'd Eoraec, a
dog! — I wish I'd been the apothecary — the apothecary — I'd have
poison'd him in earnest. I would ! I would ! I would !
Mrs. S. Komeo at York ! why then, Sir, the low tragedian is
your son ?
Young W. That depends on me — on me, Madam. I won't
be his father unless I like i at present I chuse him to be my
son — I chuse it —
Mrs. S. To be sure, parents ought to have every control
over their children I
Snaff. Mrs. Snaffle, hold hard. Mr. Wilson, I don't know
if you don't know it, but your son have had an accident wi' Miss
S. — had a fall in love, you know, and got the shafts driv into
him.
Young W. I know it. I traced him to York, and I've traced
him here — here, the reprobate, he's been figuring o'S.— figuring.
Sir, as a multiplying usher.
Mrs. S. a disguised usher ! here's hypocrisy ! here's in-
triguing ! Maria shall account for this ! I'll see whether
mystery shall get the mastery. Exit R. H.
Snaff. And now, sqtdre, what's to be done ? The young
folks have got tangled, you see ; they have laid an attachment
on each other.
Young W. It's settled, settled, Sir. I mean him to have her,
and I mean her to have him. No words ; I don't mind your nay
to it — your nay. Sir.
Snaff. I aren't going to nay ! If the young uns eawpiit up
their horses together, they've my good will to't, and dall
YORK AND LANCASTEE. 23
if they sha'n't have the good will o' the 'cademy into the
bargain !
Young W. Drop the academy ! I'll provide for Jack — for
Jack, Sir ; he sJiall have all I have.
Snaff. Done and done, squire ! It's a match ! there be only
one stumbling stone in the road. Your son be lost, stolen, or
strayed somewhere. I war forced to turn him out to common —
for making free wi' Maria.
Tim. Ah ! I see 'em, playing at forfeits !
Young W. No matter, he'll turn up — turn up. Sir. But
harkye, the wedding must be private — quite private, stolen, Sir,
against my will, Sir. Tell the rascal I'm obdurate, implacable ;
I don't want him to think I'll show him my countenance^ my
countenance. Sir, after \ns,Jlying so in my face !
Snaff. It shall be kept snug ! I won't be a tit myself, and
I'll take care my wife beant a tit either !
Young W. Ay, and a license instanter — instanter, Sir. Re-
member Macbeth, " What you do do — do quickly." Delay's the
devil. Sir — the devil ; take the nick of time, Sir, the nick before
it's an old nick !
Snaff. It shall be donej^os^, mun; they shall go to the altar
in a gaUop ! there shall be no bar to it, and if there be, I be so
light-hearted I'll clear all the gates.
Young W. (So am I if he knew all). I wish you joy — joy.
Sir. And myself joy, myself Sir ; and Maria, Maria too, Sir ;
and Jack and Jack {a loud knock and voice without). {My father's
voice. Then the game's all up — he trumps everything, Jack
and all).
Enter Old Wilson. Young Wilson avoids him and
retires to the hack of the stage.
Old W. Mr. Snaffle, eh !
Snaff. At your service. Sir ; bv the day, month, or year.
Old W. Drop ceremony ; I'm blunt, Sir, hlunt, and come to a
point at once. Your daughter has seduced my son.
24 YOaK AND LANCASTER.
Snafp. (O, this be father father of t'other usher.') It be a bad
job, sure enough. My daughter be a gypsy I
Old W. a gypsy ! a great gypsy, Sir, for she inveigles
great children. Where's my rascal? where? where? where?
Sir?
Snaff. He be departed — departed alive, I mean.
Tim. Yes, I see him go, with a large flea in his ear !
Old W. a humbug, a humbug. Sir. He's lurking here — I've
proof of it, full proof, above proof — as a Trench usher.
Snaff. Ay, but "Mrs. S. have given him French leave. He
beant in the house, I'll take my oath on't afore all the mares
in Yorkshire, thoro'bred or halfbred!
Young W. Aside. (He'd better not do that, though.)
Old W. Gone, eh ! There's a dog ! to go off when I want to
marry him to who he likes ; ay, to who he likes, Sir !
Snaff. What, not go his own way wi' the reins on his neck /
Set up an opposition to himself on his own road !
Old W. Let me see him in opposition to himself ! I'll disin-
herit him ! a son in opposition is a Whig, a Wliig, Sir, and can't
be natural heir to anybody.
Snaff. But be ye in arnest about giving him his head ?
Old W. Absolute ! resolute ! Harkye, the girl I meant to
have him has had the assurance, the assurance. Sir, to have
somebody else !
Young W. (What do I hear ? Miss Acres married !)
Old W. But I'll be revenged of her — revenged, Sir ; I meant
to make him have hei — make him. Sir ; but now he shall have
who he likes ; he shall have a will of his own ; I'll make him
have a will of his own ; I will, I will, I will ! I'll force him to
have his own inclinations ; he shall marry your daughter now if
he pleases.
Sxaff. My daughter? No, Sir; she be equal to bespoke. I've
promised her.
Old W. Then you shall ««promisc her, that's my dctermina-
YORK AND LANCASTER. 25
tion. I'm a decided character — decided, Sir ; and who dares to
ask for her ? who ? who, Sir ?
Snaff. Why, Sir, this other very decided character (Snaffle
'puts forward Young Wilson and presents him full front to Old
Wilson).
Old W. You, Sir ; you, you, you, you, you !
Young W. Yes, Sir ; rne, 'me, me, me, me !
Enter Mrs. Snaffle, dragging in Maria.
Mrs. S. Now Miss, now hussy, here's the indignant parent.
What ! two indignant parents ?
Maria. Wilson again, as I live !
Young W. {Hush ! Tm not myself! Tm my own father^
Old W. And pray what pretensions have you to Miss
Snaffle, Snaffle, Sir ?
Young W. The same pretensions as your son, your son. Sir.
Old W. Miss Snaffle shall have who / like. Sir — I. I. I. !
Young W. And who I like too. Sir — too, too, too !
Snaff. She be like to have two sure enough ; but you know,
raun, matrimony don't carry double ! (to Young W.); that would
be bigamy. Sir, great bigamy, big bigamy (to Old W.)
Mrs. S. Here's decorum ! to let the altar raise an altercdXion.
Old W. No matter. Harkye, Sir ; I'm used to my own way,
so used to it I can go it in the dark. My son shall have Miss
Snaffle ; if I say he shall, he shall, Sir.
Young W. You are bent on that point ?
Old W. Bent, bent double. Sir ; it shall be so ; it shall ; it
shall as sure as my name's Wilson, Wilson Senior.
Young W. Why, then, let Wilson Junior have her {kneels down
and pulls off his wig), and your pardon with her!
Old W. What Jack, Jackanapes, Jack, you dog ! No, Sir,
no. I won't forgive you ! I won't forgive you till I like, that I
won't. I won't forgive you till this day week at one d'clock — one
precisely.
26 YOllK AND LANCASTER.
Young W. My dear father, that shall be a red letter day for
ever ; I'll be on my knees punctually to a minute !
Old W. There take her {gives Maria). Snaffle, you shall drop
the school, you shall farm a farm o' mine, and look after my
stud, my stud. Sir.
Snaff. Ay, that'll suit me to a hair, to a horsehair ! Then I
shall fit my harness ! Mrs. S., you're agreeable (he's a young
squire y you knoWy it'll be a good start in life for Maria).
Mrs. S. Why, as there is a difference between a stud and a
stable, and provided everything's done with decorum.
Snaff. That's enough ! we have broke the back o' the *cademy.
Huzza !
(Timothy runs forward and throws up his hat.)
Tim. Hooray ! hooray ! hooray ! A breaking up ! a breaking
up!
Snaff. Ay, Master Timothy ! there be only one thing more
to do ; the prizes of merit must be awarded, and it's for the pre-
sent company to say whether the author of this piece deserves a
silver ^^en for his writing, and we a silver star for our elocution.
Ay, ay. Master Timothy, come forward and make your bow for
a whole holiday. We have done 'cademising for the present,
but the school is out. I trust we shall find our kind friends
willing to meet us again in this our playground.
Finale — " Come now all ye social powers."
Tim. Omni bene, sine pene,
Tempus est, ludendi.
Snafp. Venit horsum, tandem, gigum,
Drivum et rideudi !
Masia. We've done with school,
And usher's nde.
And I must lose my suitor I
YORK AND LANCASTER. 27
Young W. No, let that pass,
My dearest lass ;
I'll be your private tutor.
Mrs. S. Theu now we go without a woe,
To spend a short vacation ;
But sometime hence
We'll recommence,
With parents' approbation I
All repeat the last verse together.
LOST AND EOUND.-A FEAGIENT.
A FARCE,
CHAEACTERS.
The Earl op Kavensdale.
Jonas {his steward).
Old Spriggs {a linendraper at Bodmin),
Richard Spriggs {alias Travers).
Sam Spriggs.
Snap {servant to TraverSy brother of Sally),
Lady Beldragon.
The Hon. Miss Deloraine {her niece),
Sally Perkins {Miss D.'s maid).
ACT I. Scene I.
Jn apartment at Lady Beldragon's. Miss Deloraine Im
discovered writing at her desk.
Enter Lady Beldragon.
Lady B. So, niece, more of the epistolary, I must say I de-
test so much corresponding !
Miss D. Now really, aunt, considering it is the only letter I
have written for three days
Lady B. And that is more than, at your age, I should have
written in three weeks I
LOST AND FOUND. 29
Miss D. Ah, but consider the improvement since then in our
manufactures ! instead of a clumsy goose-quill — carved into a pen
of no particular pattern — in lieu of a black puddle, called ink,
thickened with cotton, and dried with sand — in the place of a
rough half converted substance, in texture between a linen sheet
and a sheet of paper !
Lady B. Go on.
Miss D. Instead of these coarse contrivances, just fancy a
limpid fluid of sky-blue, or rose colour, to match the com-
plexion of your thoughts, a smooth vellum paper, over which the
metallic pen glides as easily as a skate on the ice ; then the
tinted blotting paper, the elegant fancy wax or the pretty
medallions, and the neat envelope — in short, all the modern
materials so beautiful to look at and so delightful to use, that if
you had no better correspondent you would write to yourself
and request an answer.
Lady B. Indeed! But by your leave, my notions of pro-
priety are not quite so dependent on the quality of my sta-
tionery. In my time it was thought low and mercantile to
be always corresponding, and it is not a little superlative pen,
ink, and paper that will induce me to become a clerk in petti-
coats !
Miss D. Oh, aunt !
Lady B. Oh, niece ! I tell you I am sick of this eternal
write, write, writing, as if it were for your bread, like one of
the scribbling blue stockings !
Miss D. Aunt, these injurious expressions — but I know
their source. It is not my correspondence, but my corres-
pondent that displeases you. In mentioning Mr. Travers I
trace the origin of your spleen.
Lady B. And in mentioning my spleen, pray trace the
origin of Mister Travers !
Miss D. I understand that emphasis. It is true that Mr.
30 LOST AND FOUND.
Travels cannot boast of an ancient pedigree ; his ancestors might
not come over with the Normans, but by his genius and merit
he has attained to eminence in an honourable profession.
Lady B. A roll of parchment, a walking blue bag I
Miss D. Lady Beldragon — you forget yourself.
Lady B. And it's enough to make me forget myself, when I
remember who I am ! a Beldragon descended from the Con-
quest — one whose ancestors did come over with King William.
Miss D. Pray hear me !
Lady B. a branch of one of the oldest houses in Europe !
A family with royal blood in their veins !
Miss D. My dear aunt, I know the pedigree by heart, and
set a due value, I hope, on our hereditary honours.
Lady B. Yes, so great a value that you would engraft a
sprig of the law on the family tree !
Miss D. My dear, dear aunt — if you have ever loved, if
you ever felt that mysterious attraction towards a living object,
as if ail human pairs were actually predestined for each other,
you would own in your heart
Lady B. What ?
Miss D. That its affections are beyond our own control.
Lady B. And not fit they should be ! Tour afi'ections
ought to be controlled by your relation*. They are the
proper persons to choose for you. And indeed we have
selected.
Miss D. You have selected !
Lady B. Pray make yourself easy, the match has had the
maturest consideration. It was made up, as I may say, at the
baptismal font.
Miss D. What, give me one name, and propose to change the.
other all in a breath !
Lady B. Exactly so. Your noble godfather. Lord Eavens-
dale, had a son christened at the same time. The coincidence of
LOST AND FOUND. 31
your ages, the equality of your birth and fortune, suggested the
match, and, in short, from that hour we fixed your affections on
each other. '
Miss D. And till now you have not thought it necessary to
acquaint me with the state of my heart.
Lady B. Eidiculous ! As if the fulfilment of such a contract
would be contemplated under the circumstances. The yery year
after the ceremony Lord Kavensdale, for a political offence, was
obliged suddenly to quit the country. But that proscription is
at an end, and his lordship is hourly expected in England.
Miss D. And I shall welcome my noble godfather with
pleasure, but if more is expected from me towards the son
Lady B. How ! do you mean to say you will not prefer him ?
Miss D. Why reall}"^, aunt, considering I have never seen the
gentleman, to insist on my preferring him to all the agreeable,
handsome, and interesting single men whom I have looked upon,
is a little unreasonable !
Lady B. O, the perversity of the present age ! In my time
young people were mad after romantic attachments, and if loving
at first sight be romantic, I presume that loving before sight
must be still more so.
Miss D. No doubt. And to some persons such a romance
might be attractive, but for my own part I confess a prejudice
against such hasty prepossessions.
Lady B. And let me teU you, niece, your relations are as
much above prejudice and prepossessions as you are. As for
myself, nobody can be more impartial, for I have never seen his
young lordship from the cradle.
Miss D. Is it possible ! And with no more knowledge of his
character and disposition than of his invisible person, you would
assign me to him for life !
Lady B. Certainly. The urgency of Lord Eavensdale's flight,
the long war, and the vigilance of his enemies, prevented all
32 LOST AND FOUND.
intercourse with his friends. What became of the infant heir
we have hitherto been unable to discover. But a few hours
will clear up the mystery, and then, niece, it will become you to
remember what I expect from you as well as what you expect
from me.
Miss D. Then I must be explicit. Left to your care, as an
orphan, I owe to you the love and respect of a daughter.
Against your wishes, therefore, it is painful, deeply painful to re-
solve. But my heart already belongs to Eichard Travers, and
as long as this living hand is obedient to my impulse, whilst it
opens and shuts at will and thus rises {lifting it heavenwards)
and thus falls {dropping it) it shall never be given to another !
JExit hastily.
Lady B. How ! What ! Can I believe my senses ? This
comes of her independent fortune, of her money in her own
right — but no matter. If she brings that pettifogger into the
family, I'm no Beldragon —
ACT L Scene IL
A square^ or quiet street. Enter Sam Spriggs with a bundle,
Sam. Well, here I am in Lonnon, and a precious big place it
is ! I never see a town run so long and wide in my life, let
alone the outskirts and selvages. I suppose I must be near the
fag end of ray walk— but if I know which way to turn I'll be
hanged. Oh, here comes a passenger !
Enter Sally.
My good young *oman, would you be so kind as to direct m'e to
the hand post ?
Sally. The handpost ! What do I see ? A face of famili-
arity. Sam Spriggs !
Sam. What, Sally Perkins, my old sweetheart!
LOST AND FOUND. 33
Sally. Why I heard you was drawn for a soldier, and gone
to militate against the French.
Sam. Not a yard of it — never stirr'd from the counter.
Sally. Then that was a false report. La ! Sam, how hearty
you look. Your cheeks are quite rubicon.
Sam. And yours, too, all Avarranted fast colour, eh ? {going to
kiss Tier).
Sally. No, no. Consider the publicity. Besides, that is
ail over now. Ah, Sam, if you had kept to your old connubbial
promis — >
Sam. Well, well, better late nor never. I'm took into the
firm at last, and provided trade keeps briskish and the books
wind up well at the end of the year, we'll come together like
hook and eye.
Sally. Ah ! Sam, Sam. Promises, you know, are like pie-
crust, and if yours are to turn out as culinary
Sam. Not for th« whole stock in trade ! You shall have it in
writing, Sal, like a bill. A regular promise in black and white,
and then if I break off, you know, you can set your own vally
on me and proceed for the amount.
Sally. Well, that does seem like sincereness, and so I will
trust you once more. But remember, Sam, delays are danger-
ous, and if you procrustinate again
Sam. Never you fear. I'm determined to settle in life, and
you're the woman. So that's booked. Only let the new year
come in, and we'll both be throwed into one like two next doors !
Sally. And how is your father, Sam, and Master Richard ?
Sam. What, Dick ? Dick Spriggs as was ? Bless you, run
away years and years ago, and gone into the law line somewhere
about Lonnon.
Sally. Law ! how glad he'll be at your visitation !
Sam. Ah, don't be too sure o' that ! Dick never took to me,
never since we was miuikcns. He was always ashamed of poor
/
3i LOST AND FOUND.
Sam. Bless you, he didn't treat me like the same fabric ; you*d
have thought I was his brother by another father and mother.
Sally. Yes, he was always a little upstartish and suppercilious !
Sam. always ; stuck up as stiff as a bit of buckram; and then
so bookish, and sich a schollard ! That's the way he left the
poor little shop at Bodmin. He never could stomach the cheap
calico and dimities. There was I haggling maybe about a yard
of flannin, and there was Dick, proud Dick, wouldn't lay his
hand on a piece of velvet, I don't think he knowed a yard from
a nail, or ever swept shop in his life.
Sally. never, and I remember the shop was once shoplifted
for want of his putting up his shutters. To be sure he was as
proud as Lucifer.
Sam. Lord ! as proud as a whole box on 'em ! And as snap-
pish too, if you rubbed him harder than agreeable.
Sally. And so he has degenerated away from you altogether?
Sam. Yes, throwed up his indentures and us too. Cut all the
branches of the Spriggs ; unbrothered me, and unfathered his
father, and goes by quite another name and family !
Sally. The shocking creature! to disown one's relative ties
for a little greatness, shows great littleness.
Sam. It's true, howsomever. He has sent us all to Coventry
(famous place for ribbons, you know), but I'll hunt him out, if I
call on all the Traverses in Lonnon.
Sally. Travers ! Here's a dev'Uopement ! To think I did not
know him in spite of his incognitoes. Yes, yes, he's a lawyer,
sure enough. Why, Sam, he's in love with the lady I live with,
and comes suiting her every day of his life !
Sam. What, Dick and your Missis !
Sally. Yea, the Eight Honourable Miss Deloraine. She lives
with her aunt, Lady Beldragon — a Dissenter from the Conquest.
Sam. a Eight Honourable, and Dick a courting her; you're
sure o' that ?
LOST AND FOUND. ti
Sally. certain. I know it by liis particularity as to figu-
rative appearance, and the acidity of his attentions. Besides,
he's always presenting her. The very last week he gave her the
most beautiful foreign birds — a Virgilian nightingale, and a
whole cage full of affidavits.
Sam. Is it possible ? But he was always uppish in his no-
tions, and wore three shirts a day, like a lord.
Sally. It's true, however; and wliat's more, he lives here
close by.
Sam. What, Dick ! The dickens he does ! Come, show us the
way ! O Dick, Dick, if you've forgot what's natural affection I
haven't. Come along, Sal. I'm on an ounce of mixed pins till
I see him ! Exeunt,
ACT I. Scene III.
Travers's Chambers. Travers is discovered reading. He lays
down his hook, and comes forward.
Travers. Yes, Shakespeare is light. " There is a tide in the
affairs of men, that taken at the flood leads on to fortune."
Nothing more true. There was such a tide in my own affairs,
and I took it at the flood when I ran away from Bodmin and the
counter. Prom that hour all has gone well with me : thriving
in my fortune, happy in my love, and prosperous in my ambi-
tion ! My income is large, an earl's daughter smiles on my suit,
and to-morrow I shall be one of his Majesty's Serjeants y the
stuff that judges are made of; and why not! The same auspi-
cious influences that have raised meat the Bar, may elevate me
to the Bench. The same propitious destiny that confers on me
the silk gown and the coif may hereafter invest me with the
scarlet robe and the ermine !
As he stands in rather a pompous attitude, tJie door hastily
opens, and enter Sam Spriggs.
Sam. Ah, Dick ! how are ye, boy ? Found ye out for all your
alibi. What ! won't you shake hands ?
36 tiOST AND FOUND
Tb AVERS. Sir ! really you have the advantage of me.
Sam. Well, that's a good un ! So you don't remember Sam,
nor the old shop down at Bodmin ! Ah, Dick, don't ye mind
how we used to fence with the yard measures {poking Mm.)
Tbavees. It's my brother ! What brings him to London !
Sam. I knew you'd be surprised, Dick, but the shop wanted
tsew stocking. For example — poplins and bombazines, sheetings
all widths, brown holiands, muslins book and mull, gentlemen's
stout hose, ladies' ditto ditto ; so I thought I'd just come up to
town and look you all out together, you know.
Travers. Very kind indeed, Sam; I am delighted to see you
(/ wish I were on the Northern Circuit /)
Sam. Shall I sit down ?
Travers. yes, do. Pray be seated. I beg your pardon,
but these great law cases, involving the fortunes of whole families,
the interests as I may say of the babe unborn, are apt to make
one a little absent.
Sam. Why, yes; you've been absent a goodish number of
years.
Travers. I mean to say — the truth is, my dear Sam — a bar-
rister, that is to say a barrister in full practice, has very little
spare time on his hands, very little indeed. The fact is I ought
at this moment to be in the Common Pleas.
Sam. Won't ye ask after father ?
Travers. True, Sam, true. How is he ?
SAM. Middlin, very middlin, as yaller as nankeen and wasting
away to a tape. We're afeard the gout's going upwards to his
stomach, and when once his vittles turn to chalk, you know — why
he's as good as cut off the piece. And how be you yourself,
Dick?
Travers. Why, so so; rather poorly ; in fact, very unwell.
A sort of return of an old family complaint.
Sam. Ah ! the rheumatiz. I thought you seemed a little
LOST AND FOUND. 37
stiffish like ! and besides, you was always rather consumptious.
You should wear flannin, Dick, the best Welsh at two-and-six,
and take care of your lungs. They're a delicate texter, you know;
and if once you get a hackin' cough, they'll fray out like a sieezy
sarsnet !
Travers. True, as you remark. Wliat was I going to say ?
When do you go back, Sam ?
Sam. Not afore Christmas, Dick. I mean to be a gentleman
till the new year.
Travers. There's a month of it ! I mean for you, Sam, to
come when I am so busy — just term time, you know — and my
briefs in the Common Pleas.
Sam. Yes, yes, you're a lawyer, I know; but you a'nt
always lawfully engaged for all that. You can't be always
Common Pleasing. I say, Dick, you'll show me the sights o*
Lonnon ?
Travers. The sights, my dear Sam, the sights ! The truth
is, you have been quite misinformed. There are no sights now
in London.
Sam. Come, now, Dick, that's a good un. A'nt there the
lions ?
Travers. No. All turned actors and gone to play in the
country.
Sam. That's true; it was in the papers. There's Saint
Paul's, though.
Travers. It's shut up for repairs. So is the Monument.
Sam. The Tower, then ?
Travers. Lock'd up since Waddington tried to take it.
Sam. Well, the Wax-work ?
Travers. Melted by a great fire at the next door.
Sam. The great Bazaar ?
Travers. Removed last quarter-day, and not unpacked yet.
Sam. That's unluckv. Well Dick, I must stick by you
instead. .^
38 LOST AND FOUND.
Traveus. (So he ivill). Now I think of it, Sam, there's
the Horse Guards, and the Regent's Bomb, and G og and Magog,
and London Stpne, and the Chelsea Water-works.
Sam. ! I can see them, can I?
Travers. Yes, all gratis, and without a guide ; and the new
bridges and the new churches, and the new Palace, and the new
Post-office, and the New Cut, and the New Eiver. Then there are
King Charles at Charing Cross, and the Duke of York's column,
and Nelson's column, and the Waillman column — and — and —
all the obelisks.
Sam. Well, that's a good un agin. I thought there was no
sich sight of sights in Lonnon ! But I know how it is — you
always did fight shy on me ; bat no matter, if you give me up, I
won't give you up. I'll get a lodging close by, Dick— a top
floor, and I'll drop in on ye whenever I can {going).
Travers. My dear Sam, stop ! I can save you some trouble.
There is not a place to let near the square — not a dog-hole.
Sam. Then why do they ticket up their cheap rooms in the
windows ? It's the old thing. You won't own to me {weeps).
O, Dick, Dick, where's your nateral affection ? where's your
brotherly love ? It's all washed out like a cheap printed cotton.
Travers. {Here will he a scene /) My dear Sam, you mistake
me !
Sam. No I don't. O, Dick ! you're a hash quality. Your
relations is gone out o' fashion, and you want to cut me the
cross way !
Travers. My dear Sam, you do me injustice !
Sam. No, I know ye, Dick, length and breadth ; but blood's
blood, and if you don't stick to me, I'll stick to you. So if
you're busy now, I'll come agin. I sha'n't grudge calling if it's
a hundred times a day ; and if so be you're gone out, I sha'n't
mind going arter ye. O, Dick, Dick, Dick, you wanted to
untie all ties to me, but you've only drawed 'em into a double
net [going).
LOST AND FOUND. 39
Travers. Nay, my dear Sam.
Sam. Don't Sam me, call me Mister at once.
Travers. My dear brother, then —
Sam. Well, that's more like the colour. Homsumever, here
goes to try you, and if so be you do feel like a brother, you
won't object.
Travers. Well, Sam ?
Sam. Why, then, take me to court.
Travers. To court?
Sam. Yes. I know you're not proud of me, but I'm proud of
you ; and of all the sights in Lonnon, I should like to say down
at Bodmin I seed Dick in court in his bag-wig and gownd !
Travers. Ridiculous ! impossible ! My good fellow, the
courts, at least some of them, are not public thoroughfares.
Sam. What, not open to everybody, like our shop ?
Travers. No.
Sam. Well, that's a fob off, anyhow ! for I've been to our 'sizes.
O, Dick, you're ketched out. But no matter ; you may tear your-
self off, but you belong to the same ticket ; a brother's a brother,
and though you neglect me, I won't neglect you. I'll haunt ye
like a ghost — I'H follow arter ye like a faithful dog, and the more
you cut me the more I'll come agin. Exit Travers.
Travers. But Sam, Sam, I say ! He's gone. Follow me like a
dog, and haunt me like a ghost — there's a promise — and he
will too, to shock me with his vulgarity and distress me with
an affection I cannot reciprocate. With self-reproach I confess it,
but I never could feel towards poor Sam as a brother ; our tastes,
pursuits, pastimes, everything were always widely asunder. He
preferred put — I liked piquet — ^he played on the Jew's harp,
and I studied the German flute — to conclude, he fell in love
with a maidservant, and I am engaged to a lady of noble
family. Ah, there it is ! If Julia, or Lady Beldragon should
obtain a glimpse of him, I am ruined !
40 LOST AND FOUND.
He rings. Enter Snap.
Snap. I am going to Harley Street, and if that strange
gentleman calls again
Snap. Yes, that very strange gentleman.
Tr AVERS. I mean the country person, a client from Wiltshire.
Snap. yes, Su*, a rustical snobbish sort of fellow.
Travers (testily). Zounds ! Sirrah, will you hear me ? I say
if he calls again, I am gone out, gone into the country, gone
abroad, and shall not be back for six months. Exit.
Snap. Ha! ha! ha! a client from Wiltshire. The strange
gentleman. Yes, a very strange gentleman indeed. Why, I know
his face as well as Georgius Eex's on a shilling ; many a good
game at put I've had with him on his father's counter. We
had a battle too for Sally Perkins. She was our toast. I must
look sharp or they'll be making up their old match again, egad !
I'll persuade her that Sam is married already, and has a wife
and children down at Eodmin. Let me see, two boys and a
girl, the eldest ten years old, the next eight, and a baby on the
lap, for a good lie, like good Madeira, ought always to be parti-
cular.
Scene IV.
At Lady Beldeagon's. Enter Miss Deloeaine attended by
Sally.
Miss D. And you actually met his brother in the street. Are
you sure you know his person ?
Sally. What, Sam ? I should say, Mr. Samuel Spriggs ? !
certain ; I could indentify him on oath before a judge and jury.
Miss D. Travers the son of a country linendraper I a father
and a brother alive ! — I will never believe it I
Sally. As you please. Miss, but only ask anybody down at
Bodmin, and you will find ewery jparticiple of my statistics to be
religiously acurate.
LOST AND POUND. 41
Miss D. It is incredible ! And yet, Sally, you would haxdly
tell me so gratuitous a falsehood.
Sally. never, Miss ! I wouldn't tell a gratuitous false-
hood for a guinea !
Miss D. In Bodmin, did you say ?
Sally. Yes, Miss, in the county of Cornwall.
Miss D. And a linendrapery establishment !
Sally. Yes, Miss ; that is to say not an emporium, such as
in Eegent Street, with India shawls, and china punchbowls, and
ivory chestmen, and birds of paradise in the winder. Not the
place one would go to for a sumptious velvet, or rich silk, but
for such things as printed cottons and ginghams, a very good
assortment, and as to remnants of ribbon, quite without its
parallelogram for cheapness.
Miss D. Enough, Sally.
Sally. Then, as to serving, one couldn't expect such multi-
plicitus' young men as at Ludgate Hill, or Holborn, but as far
as one or two could be civil and obsequs to a customer, if it was
only a servant for a piece of tape
Miss D. Enough, enough, Sally ; you may go (exit Sally).
Travers the son of a little country shopkeeper ! If Lady Bel-
dragon should hear the story ! her intolerable raillery could desire
no better topic !
Unter Lady Beldragon.
Lady B. So, niece ! I have heard all, and beg leave to wish
you joy on your new prospects in life. I can truly say they
are such as your best friends coidd never have hoped for.
Miss D. Madam, if these expressions are meant to mortify
and wound me
Lady B. O, quite the reverse. I intended only to congratu-
late. Everybody must rejoice at your choosing a station in life
that will afford you an opportunity of serving your friends.
42 LOST AND FOUND.
Miss D. As I expected.
Lady B. Por my own part, I have every reason to be satis-
fied with the change, for instead of opposing my simple wishes
as at present, you will perhaps, by-and-by, be solicitous for my
orders.
Miss D. This is cruel. Madam, but according to your
custom.
Lady B. I beg pardon ; I presume that my custom would be
now desirable.
Miss D. I can bear it no longer ! Lady Beldragon, pray
recollect that the report you allude to may be founded in error.
I expect Mr. Travers immediately, and till we have heard his
explanation, it would be but just to suspend your remarks.
Understand me, however ; no mere accident of birth or fortune
could diminish my regard and respect for Mr. Travers, but to
disown a brother and a father argues a bad heart, and only
let that point be once established, not by the gossip of menials,
but from his own lips (a hnocJc) — But here he is —
Lady B. (retiring into the back room). And therefore, by your
leave, I will make myself free of the Drapers' Company. Exit.
Travees is announced.
Travers. My dearest Julia —
Miss D. Sir, your servant.
Travers. What a freezing manner {aside). If I did not come,
Julia, by your own appointment, I should fancy that this
visit was mistimed.
Miss D. 0, not at all ! On the contrary, it is more desirable
than ever {they take chairs). So I find, Mr. Travers, that you have
a relation.
Travers {mmping up). Sam again! I beg pardon {sits
down). Then you have seen him ?
Miss D. No, I have not enjoyed that pleasure, but merely
LOST AND FOUND. 43
heard of him — a relation of some kind, but not of the same
name, something beginning I think with an S — Stretch, or Spring,
or Spragg.
Travers. Yes — something of that kind. The truth is, Julia,
when I told you that I had no relations, I forgot a sort of
cousin or half cousin, a quarter cousin, something as near as
that — ^but very distant.
Miss D. O, make yourself easy. I merely meant to request
as you have such a relation in town that you would afford me
the pleasure of an introduction.
Travers. Introduce you — to Sam — impossible.
Miss D. How, Sir ?
Travers. That is to say, he is so very diffident — so shy, so
reserved — never goes anywhere— a perfect Zimmermann.
Miss D. Ha ! Ha ! What a strange creature.
Travers. O, very ! always was from a child. Moped away
from everyone — in the grotto — or up in a tree. We used to call
him the hermit !
Miss D. Is it possible ? Well, really, I am dying to see this
strange shy cousin of yours. You must bring him.
Travers. My dear Julia. I should be very proud — that is
if he would come — but — but — the fact is I do not know where
he is.
MissD. No?
Travers. At least not exactly. London is a very large
place, very — and then, there are all the suburbs.
Miss D. True; and really one may lose a relation in a much
smaller place — one's own heart, for instance.
Travers (alarmed). What does she mean ? Julia, the truth
is, I have a suspicion, merely a suspicion, where he is.
Miss D. So have I, Sir (rises). Poor Samuel Spriggs !
Travers (Jumping up). Distraction ! she knows all ! Julia !
hear me !
44 LOST AND FOUND.
Miss D. I need not, Sir. Your conscience speaks in your
face. To disavow your own brother — your own father 1 !
Travers, Travers, I thought you had more heart {going).
Travers. Nay, but hear me — Julia — Julia {she retreats into
the back roomy and bolts the door). I am lost — ruined, my
dearest hopes blighted for ever ! And all through Sam. I do
disown him ! He shall be no brother of mine, no friend,
no acquaintance — 0! my mind foretold all this. I knew it
when I saw him. Misfortune has cut his face upon her seal,
and will stamp my fate with it for ever ! Exit,
ACT I. Scene V.
At Lord Eavensdale's. Enter Lord Eavensdale in a
travelling dress, attended by Jonas.
Lord E. Jonas, my trusty Jonas, your hand, the first I grasp
in England. A moment to collect myself {takes a turn to and
fro). And now — where is my son ?
Jonas {gloomily). Humph I
Lord E. {alarmed). How ! Merciful Heaven, grieving only
at distance, have I forgotten that death might come between
us ?
Jonas. He's alive.
Lord E. {impatiently). Why then, where? why not here
{Jonas shrugs his shoulders). Jonas, you doubt my fortitude —but
I am calm, quite calm. 'S death ! why don't you bring him to
me?
Jonas. I can't.
Lord E. Pshaw ! Pool that I was to send you on such an
errand ; a dog indeed in fidelity, but almost as dumb an animal.
Jonas, Jonas, you have stood by me in exile, and brooded over
my wrongs and misfortunes into this very sullenness, but do
for once relax those stubborn jaws, and be silent, if you will,
ever after. Where is my son ?
LOST AND FOUND. 45
Jonas. Don't know.
Lord R. No ? Have you not been, then, to Lady Eeldragon ?
Jonas. She don't know.
Lord E. How ! what ! This is worse than Indian torture !
A word would ease me, and you keep me on the rack. Jonas,
you are a savage.
Jonas. I've been to Bodmin.
Lord K. 'Twas well done ! , Forgive me, Jonas ! You were
always more ready in deeds than in words. And what of my
son?
Jonas. Old Spriggs is a villain.
Lord R. Ha ! he has not dared to abuse his^trust ! Speak —
quick — what has he done with my boy ?
Jonas. Been a father to him.
Lord R. Pish! why so I hoped. In the exigency of my
flight he was entrusted perforce with the infancy of Richard
Ravensdale.
Jonas. Alias Spriggs.
LordR. How? What?
Jonas. Alias Spriggs.
Lord R. His own plebeian name ! 0, I conceive you now.
What, dare to appropriate my son, the heir of Ravensdale, a
Spriggs — ^next to the earldom — a Spriggs — Richard Spriggs ?
Jonas. Draper and haberdasher.
Lord R. His own infernal trade ! Fire and furies ! Jonas ! But
my poor boy, you took him instantly from the counter ?
Jonas. No, took himself. Ran away years ago.
Lord R. Our own spirit ; and that arch villain — you secured
him, Jonas?
Jonas. No, secured himself; absconded on my arrival.
Lord R. But a halter shall catch him yet ! And my son. Tell
me all, in your own way, Jonas. Where is my dear son ?
Jonas. Somewhere in London, in the law. I've been seek •
ing him.
46 LOST AND FOUND.
Lord K. And seek still. A lawyer I search the law list ;
haunt all the courts ; hunt every inn, every chamber ; enquire
everywhere for
Jonas. Eichard Spriggs.
Lord E. Curse the name ! But do it 1 For myself, London
is not so vast but a father's love shall hunt it through. Yes,
from street to street, from house to house. I'll knock from door
to door till I find him. Exeunt.
ACT L— Scene VI.
Snap discovered sitting in Travers's chambers.
Snap. Aw, yaw {-yawns). This law is a very dry business, even
at second-hand; for master follows the law, and I follow him.
I wish his old parchments covered a drum ; they wouldn't be
half so humdrum. The army's the place for gallantry, but here
in the law, we've plenty of gown but no petticoat.
Enter Servant.
Servant. A young woman enquiring for you, Mr. Snap.
Snap. Send her up. I'm at home to all the sex.
Exit Servant*
Enter Sally.
Sally. Good-morning, Mr. Snap; I expected to find Mr.
Samuel Spriggs here.
Snap. He did call, but he's gone again. Ah, Sally, bad fel-t
low that Sam.
Sally. Mr. Snap — but I know your motives. You have a
preposition against him, because I'm prejudicial in his favoun
Not that I am unconscientious of his defections.; he's gayish*
and has his fables like other folks.
Snap. Poor creature ! so unsuspecting ! thinks he*s better
than he ought to be, and it's quite the reverse !
Sally. Y^'ou want to impose on my crudelity I
LOST AND FOUND. 47
Snap. Your credulity ! Not for the world ! I want to warn
you. I was bound to secrecy, and Honour held the indentures,
but the time is out, when you ought to know all.
Sally. Mr. Snap, your induenduses have put me in a state of
violent suspension, and I beg you will put me out of sufferance
as soon as you can.
Snap. Why then — ^ut mind, if I open your eyes, you must
shut your mouth.
Sally. O involubly 1 What is told me under tlie rose I keep
in violet.
Snap. Well, then. You remember the shop down at Bodmin;
it had some goods in it once. Well, Sam has sold all, sold omni-
um, and when old Spriggs wanted to take stock, there was no
stock to take. But that's not the worst ; his poor wife
Sally {almost with a scream.) His what?
Snap. His poor wife, took her to be a help meet to him, but
gave her no meat to help, and one day after dinner he deserted
her.
Sally. Deserted her !
Snap. Yes, consigned an abandoned woman of angelic virtue
to a wide world and a narrow income ; left three naked children
to a bare subsistence, with their mouths open at their tender
years — in short, left the whole family to go to pot, and nothing
to boil it with.
Sally. Sam manied !
Snap. Fact; by the Eev. Charles Dempsey Waterworth,
Vicar of St. Magnum Bonura. I've seen the certificate.
Sally. The monster ! and to promise matrimoneously to
me! why, I might have been conjuggled into bigamy. I'm
petrified like Stone Hinge, and do not know which way to turn !
O ! Mr. Snap, how shall I ever reward you for saving me from
such a precipus ?
Snap. Don't mention it. Virtue Days its own reward on
48 LOST AND FOUND.
conviction. Now I think of it, though, as there will be a vacancy
in your heart {knocking) — The deuce ! there's my master. I always
know Latitat by his rat-tat-tat (Sally attempts to escape). No,
not that way, he'll meet you on the stairs ; nor that way, he'll
catch you in his bed-room. Here in this closet ; there's only
old Coke and Lyttelton in it.
Sally. Mercy on us! Why, then, the two old gentlemen
have heard the converse of everything ?
Snap. Nonsense — they're only books, and haven't even dogs*
ears [pusJies her in) ! Here he comes, in a pretty storm {knocking),
I know his thunder.
^nter Travers, disordered and heated.
Travers. Phew! a pretty run I've had. Hunted thro' the
public streets like a pickpocket. Dick, Dick, Dick'd, till half the
town knows my Christian name, at any rate {sees Snap). You
here ? Who has called, Snap ?
Snap. Only two young gentlemen in black, Sir. Sprigs, I
take it.
Travers. What do you mean, Sirrah ?
Smap. Sprigs of the law. Sir — young scions.
Travers. Well, well, you may go. Why the devil don't ye
go. Sir?
Snap, {glancing at the closet). I beg pardon, Sir, but are
you going to sit in ?
Travers. Yes.
Snap. All day. Sir?
Travers. Yes. What then?
Snap. Nothing, Sir ; only in that case, there'll be no sallying
out.
Travers. And what is that to you?
Snap. Nothing, Sir ; only, as the man said of the members of
parliament, if they didn't sit so much, it would be better for
the constitution.
LOST AND FOUND. 49
Travers. Pshaw! as if I were in the humour to listen to
your puns {exit Snap.) That fellow becomes intolerable. I
would part with him on the spot, but that I am disposed to part
with myself. Such another day can only end with a brace of
bullets ! Euined with Lady Beldragon ! broken with Julia — and
all thro' Sam ! Hunted by him thro' the streets — haunted by
him in my chambers — nothing but Sam, Sam, Sam (a noise of
hooks falling). A noise, and in the closet (opens it and pulls
out Sally). A woman, too {brings her forward). Sally ! and
now, in the devil's name, what brought you here ?
Sally. O, Sir, don't be impassioned with me! The truth
is, we heard your foot coming up stairs — and so — and so — Mr,
Snap transformed me into the closet.
Travers. Aye ! I guessed it was one of his precious amours.
Sally. O, Sir, it was none of Mr. Snap that was sought for
on my part.
Travers. No ? Who then ?
Sally. If you please, Sir {courtesy ing)^ it was Mr. Samiuel
Spriggs.
Travers. Sam again ! and making assignations in my own
chambers. I shall go mad ! Hence ! Out — out of my way
{Sally run^ out terrified) . Another turn of the evil genius that
pursues me ! and Snap again with the demon of punning.
Enter Snap.
Snap. A stranger. Sir, won't be denied. Exit Snap,
Travers. He must, he shall. Eun ! fly ! Say I can't, won't
see him ! If you let him in The devil ! here he is.
Enter Jonas.
Jonas. Servant, Sir. By your leave, I want to enquire
Travers. To the point, Sir, to the point!
Jonas, If you know a young man from the West of
England
60 LOST AND FOUND.
Travers. Quick, Sir — his name.
Jonas. Spriggs.
Travers. Sam again ! Pellow, begone while you're
safe. I'm frantic — a madman ! — a savage !
Jonas. Nay, hut one word — only one — your name, Sir ?
Travers. Why then, Satan ! Lucifer ! Beelzebub ! {Jonas
escapes). Snap ! I say, Snap !
Enter Snap.
I'm ill. Sirrah, and must lie down. Shut all the shutters —
take off the door plate — ^muffle the bell, pull off the knocker, and
deny me — deny me till you're black in the face ! Say I don't
live here — never lived here. Zounds I — never lived anywhere — a
mere man of straw. Ikii,
HOOD^S WHIMSICALITIES.
ANACREONTIC.
BY A FOOTMAN.
It's wery well to talk in praise
Of Tea and Water- drinking ways,
In proper time and place ;
Of sober draughts, so clear and cool,
Dipp'd out of a transparent pool
Eeflecting heaven's face.
Of babbling brooks, and purling riUs,
And streams as gushes from the hills.
It's wery well to talk ; —
But what becomes of all sich schemes,
With ponds of ice, and running streams.
As doesn't even walk ?
When Winter comes with piercing cold.
And all the rivers, new or old,
Is frozen far and wide ;
And limpid springs is solid stuff.
And crystal pools is hard enough
To skate upon and slide ; —
AVhat then are thirsty men to do.
But drink of ale, and porter too.
Champagne as makes a fizz ;
Port, sherry, or the Rhenish sort.
And p'rhaps a drop of summut short —
The water-pipes is friz !
52
THE SCHOOLMISTEESS ABROAD.
' AND TELEMACHUS KWBW IHAT HE BEHELD MIlfEEVA."
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
AN EXTRAVAGANZA.
" She tawht 'hem to sew and marke,
All manner of sylkyn werke,
Of her they were ful fayne." — Romance ofEmare.
CHAPTER I.
A Schoolmistress ought not to travel —
"No, Sir I"
No, Madam — except on the map. There, indeed, she may-
skip from a blue continent to a green one — cross a pink isthmus
— traverse a Red, Black, or Yellow Sea — land in a purple island,
or roam in an orange desert, without danger or indecorum.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 53
There she may ascend dotted rivers, sojourn at capital cities,
scale alps, and wade through bogs, without soiling her shoe,
rumpling her satin, or showing her ankle. But as to practical
travelling, — real journeying and voyaging, — oh, never, never,
never !
" How, Sir ! "Would you deny to a Preceptress all the ex-
cursive pleasures of locomotion ? "
By no means, Miss. In the summer holidays, when the days
are long, and the evenings are light, there is no objection to a
little trip by the railway — say to Weybridge or Slough — pro-
vided always —
"Well, Sir?"
That she goes by a special train, and in a first-class carriage.
*' Eidiculous ! "
Nay, Madam — consider her pretensions. She is little short of
a Divinity ! — Diana, without the hunting ! — a modernised
Minerva ! — the Representative of Womanhood in all its purity !
Eve, in full dress, with a finished education — a Model of
Morality — a Pattern of Propriety — the Puglewoman of her
Sex ! As such she must be perfect. No medium performance
— no ordinary good-going, like that of an eight-day clock or a
Dutch dial — will suffice for the character. She must be as
correct as a prize chronometer. She must be her own Pros-
pectus personified. Spotless in reputation, immaculate in her
dress, regular in her habits, refined in her manners, elegant
in her carriage, nice in her taste, faultless in her phraseology,
and in her mind like — like
"Pray what. Sir?"
Why, like your own chimney-ornament. Madam — a pure
crystal fountain, sipped by little doves of alabaster.
"A sweet pretty comparison 1 Well, go on. Sir."
Now, look at travelling. At the best, it is a rambling,
scrambling, shift-making, strange-bedding, irregular-mealing,
4
54 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
foreign-habiting, helter-skelter, higgledy-piggledy sort of pro-
cess. At the very least, a female must expect to be rumpled and
dusted ; perhaps draggled, drenched, torn and roughcasted — and
if not bodily capsized or thrown a summerset, she is likely to
have her straitest-laced prejudices upset, and some of her most
orthodox opinions turned topsyturvy. An accident of little
moment to other women, but to a schoolmistress productive of
a professional lameness for life. Then she is certain to be stared
at, jabbered at, may be jeered at, and poked, pushed, and hauled
at, by curious or officious foreigners — to be accosted by
perfect and imperfect strangers — in short, she is liable to be
revolted in her taste, shocked in her religious principles, dis-
turbed in her temper, disturbed in her dress, and deranged in
her decorum. But you shall hear the sentiments of a School-
mistress on the subject.
" Oh, a made-up letter."
No, Miss — a genuine epistle, upon my literaiy honour. Just
look at the writing — the real copybook running-hand — not a t
uncrossed — not an i undotted — not an illegitimate flourish of a
letter, but each j and g and y turning up its tail like the pug
dogs, after one regular established pattern. And pray observe
her capitals. No sprawling K with a kicking leg — no trouble-
some W making a long arm across its neighbour, and especially
no great vulgar D unnecessarily sticking out its stomach. Her
H, you see, seems to have stood in the stocks, her I to
have worn a backboard, and even her S is hardly allowed to be
crooked.
CHAPTER II.
" Phoo ! phoo ! it's all banter," exclaims the Courteous
Header.
Banter be hanged ! replies the Courteous Writer. But possibly,
my good Sir, you have never seen that incomparable schoolinis-
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
55
Iress, Miss Crane, for a Miss she was, is, and would be, even if
Campbell's Last Man were to offer to her for the preservation of
the species. One sight of her were, indeed, as good as a
thousand, seeing that nightly she retires into some kind of
mould, like a jelly shape, and turns out again in the morn-
ing the same identical face and figure, the same correct,
ceremonious creature, and in the same costume to a crinkle.
But no — you never can have seen that She-Mentor,
stiff as starch, formal as a Dutch hedge, sensitive as a
Daguerreotype, and so tall, thin, and upright, that supposing
the Tree of Know-
ledge to have been
a poplar, she was the
very Dryad to have
fitted it! Other-
wise, remembering
that unique image,
all fancy and fi'ost
work — so incrusted
with crisp and brit-
tle particularities —
so bedecked alleg-
orically with the
primrose of pru-
dence, the daisy of
decorum, the violet
of modesty, and the
A woTB OF ADMiEATioir. Hly of puHty, you
would confess at once that such a Schoolmistress was as unfit to
travel — unpacked — as a Dresden China figure !
** Excuse, me. Sir, but is there actually such a real
personage ? "
"Real ! Are there real Natives — Real Blessinofs to Mothers—
56 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
— Eeal Del Monte shares, and Keal Water at the Adelphi ?
Only call her * * * * * instead of Crane, and she is a living,
breathing, flesh and blood, skin and bone individual ! Why, there
are dozens, scores, hundreds of her Ex-Pupils, now grown
women, who will instantly recognise their old Governess in the
form with which, mixing up Grace and Gracefulness, she daily
prefaced their rice-milk, batter-puddings, or raspberry-bolsters.
As thus :
"For what we are going to receive — elbows, elbows! — the
Lord make us — backs in and shoulders down — truly thankful —
and no chattering — amen."
CHAPTER III.
" But the letter, Sir, the letter '*
" Oh, I do so long," exclaims one, who would be a stout
young woman, if she did not wear a pinafore, " oh, I do so long
to hear how a governess writes home ! "
** The professional epistle," adds a tall, thin Instructress,
genteelly in at the elbows, but shabbily out at the fingers' ends,
for she has only twenty pounds per annum, with five quarters in
arrear.
'* The schoolmistress's letter," cries a stumpy Teacher — only
a helper, but looking as important as if she were an educational
coachwoman, with a team of her own, some five-and-twenty
skittish young animals, without blinkers, to keep straight in the
road of propriety.
*• The letter. Sir," chimes in a half-boarder, looking, indeed,
as if she had only half-dined for the last half-year.
" Come, the letter you promised us from that paragon, Miss
Crane."
That's true. Mother of the Muses, forgive me ! I had for-
gotten my promise as utterly as if it had never been made. If
THE SCHOOLMISTKESS ABROAD
57
AHD MO CHATTBBIN-G— AMKzr.
58
THE SCHOOLMISTKESS ABROAD.
any one had furnished the matter with a file and a rope-ladder
it could not have escaped more clearly from my remembrance.
A loose tooth could not more completely have gone out of my
head. A greased eel could not more thoroughly have slipped
my memory. But here is the letter, sealed with pale blue wax,
and a device of the Schoolmistress's own invention — namely, a
note of interrogation (?) with the appropriate motto of " an
answer required." And in token of its authenticity, pray ob-
serve that the cover is duly stamped, except that of the foreign
postmark only the three last letters are legible, and yet even
from these one may swear that the missive has come from
Holland ; yes, as certainly as if it smelt of Dutch cheese, pickle-
herrings, and Schie * * * ! But hark to Governess !
•*I DO SO LONG TO HiiAB HOW Jk. GOVitUMiSS WRlTlii HOME."
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
59
My dear Miss Parfitt,
Under the protection of a superintending Providence,
we have arrived safely at this place, which as you know is a sea-
port in the Dutch dominions — chief city Amsterdam.
For your amusement and improvement I did hope to compose
a journal of our continental progress, with such references to
Guthrie and the School Atlas as might enable you to trace our
course on the Map of Europe. But unexpected vicissitudes of
mind and body have totally incapacitated me for the pleasing
task. Some social evening hereafter I may entertain our little
juvenile circle with my locomotive miseries and disagreeables ;
but at present my nerves and feeling are too discomposed for the
correct flow of an epistolary correspondence. Indeed, from the
Tower-stair to Rotterdam I have been in one universal tremor
A DUTCH 8TKAMEB.
and perpetual blush. Such shocking scenes and positions, that
make one ask twenty times a day, is Ibis decorum ? — can this be
60 THE SCIIOOLMISTEESS ABROAD.
morals ? But I must not anticipate. Suffice it, tliat as regards
foreign travelling it is my painful conviction, founded on per-
sonal experience, that a woman of delicacy or refinement cannot
go out of England without going out of herself !
The very first step from an open boat up a windy shipside is
an alarm to modesty, exposed as one is to the officious but odious
attentions of the Tritons of the Thames. Nor is the steamboat
itself a sphere for the preservation of self-respect. If there is
any feature on which a British female prides herself, it is a
correct and lady-like carriage. In that particular I quite coin-
cide with Mrs. Chapone, Mrs. Hannah More, and other writers
on the subject. But how — let me ask — how is a dignified deport-
ment to be maintained when one has to skip and straddle over
cables, ropes, and other nautical ho7's d'oeuvres — to scramble up
and down impracticable stairs, and to clamber into inaccessible
beds ? Not to name the sudden losing one's centre of gravity,
and falling into all sorts of unstudied attitudes on a sloppy and
slippery deck. An accident that I may say reduces the elegant
and the awkward female to the same level. You will be con-
cerned, therefore, to learn that poor Miss Kuth had a fall, and
in an unbecoming posture particularly distressing — namely, by
losing her footing on the cabin flight, and coming down with a
destructive launch into the steward's pantry.
For my own part, it has never happened to me within my re-
membrance to make a false step, or to miss a stair : there is a
certain guarded carriage that preserves one from such sprawling
denouements — but of course what the bard calls the " poetry of
motion," is not to be preserved amidst the extempore rollings
of an ungovernable ship. Indeed, within the last twenty-four
hours, I have had to perform feats of agility more fit for a
monkey than one of my own sex and species. Par example :
getting down from a bed as high as the copy-book board, and,
what really is awful, with the sensation of groping about with
THE SCHOOLMISTEESS ABROAD.
61
your feet and legs for a floor that seems to have no earthly ex-
istence. I may add, the cabin-door left ajar and exposing you
to the gaze of an obtrusive cabin-boy, as he is called, but quite
big enough for a man. Oh, je ne jamais !
As to the Mer Maladie, delicacy forbids the details ; but as
Miss Ruth says, it is the height of human degradation ; and to
add to the climax of our letting down, we had to give way to the
most humiliating impulses in the presence of several of the rising
generation — dreadfully rude little girls who had too evidently
enjoyed a bad bringing-up.
To tell the truth, your poor Governess was shockingly indis-
posed. Not that I had indulged my appetite at dinner, being
too much disgusted
with a public meal in
promiscuous society,
and as might be ex-
pected, elbows on ta-
ble, eating with knives,
and even picking teeth
with forks ! And then
no grace, which as-
suredly ought to be said
both before and after,
whether we are to re-
tain the blessings or
not. But a dinner at
sea and a school din-
ner, where we have
even our regular beef
and batter days, are two very different things. Then to allude to
mdiscriminate conversation, a great part of which is in a foreign
language, and accordingly places one in the cruel position of
hearing, without understanding a word of, the most libertine
THB PAXB 01' CIVIlISATIoa-.
62 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
and atheistical sentiments. Indeed, I fear I have too often been
smiling complacently, not to say engagingly, when I ought
rather to have been flashing with virtuous indignation, or even
administering the utmost severity of moral reproof. I did en-
deavour, in one instance, to rebuke indelicacy ! but unfortunately
from standing near the funnel, was smutty all the while I was
talking, and as school experience confirms, it is impossible to
command respect with a black on one's nose.
Another of our Cardinal Virtues, personal cleanliness, is totally
impracticable on ship-boai'd : but without particularising, I will
only name a general sense of grubbiness ; and as to dress, a
rumpled and tumbled tout ensemble^ strongly indicative of the low
and vulgar pastime of rolling down Greenwich-hill ! And then,
in such a costume to land in HoUand, where the natives get up
linen with a perfection and purity, as Miss Ruth says, quite
worthy of the primeval ages ! That^ surely is bad enough — but
to have one's trunks rummaged like a suspected menial — to see
aU the little secrets of the toilette, and all the mysteries of a
female wardrobe exposed to the searching gaze of a male official
— 0, shocking ! shocking !
In short, my dear, it is my candid impression, as regards
foreign travelling, that except for a masculine tallyhoying female
of the Di Vernon genus, it is hardly adapted to our sex. Of
this at least I am certain, that none but a born romp and hoydon,
or a girl accustomed to those new-fangled pulley-hauley exer-
cises, the Calisthenics, is fitted for the boisterous evolutions of
a sea-voyage. And yet there are creatures calling themselves
Women, not to say Ladies, who will undertake such long marine
passages as to Bombay in Asia, or New York, in the New
World ! Consult Arrowsmith for the geographical degrees.
Affection, however, demands the sacrifice of my own personal
feelings, as my Eeverend Parent and my Sister are still inclined
to prosecute a Continental Tour. I forgot to tell you that during
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 63
tlie voyage, Miss Euth endeavoured to parlez Fran^ais with some
of the foreign ladies, but as they did not understand her, they
must all have been Germans.
My paper warns to conclude. I rely on your superintending
vigilance for the preservation of domestic order in my absence.
The horticultural department I need not recommend to your cai6,
knowing your innate partiality for the offspring of "Flora — and
the dusting of the fragile ornaments in the drawing-room you
will assuredly not trust to any hands but your own. Blinds down
of course — the front-gate locked regularly at 5 p.m. — and I
must particularly beg of your musical penchant a total abstinence
on Sundays from the pianoforte. And now adieu. The Keverend
T. C. desires his compliments to you, and Miss Euth adds her
kind regards, with which believe me.
My dear Miss Parfitt,
Your affectionate Friend and Preceptress,
Priscilla Crane.
P.S. — I have just overheard a lady describing, with strange
levity, an adventure that befell her at Cologne. A foVeign post-
man invading her sleeping-apartment, and not only delivering a
letter to her on her pillow, but actually staying to receive his
money, and to give her the change ! And she laughed and called
him her Bed Post I Y\ done ! Pi done I
CHAPTEE IV.
Well — there is the letter —
*' And a very proper letter too," remarks a retired Seminarian,
Mrs. Grove House, a faded, demure-looking old lady, with a set
face so like wax, that any strong emotion would have cracked it
to pieces. And never, except on a doll, was there a face with
such a miniature set of features, or so crowned with a chaplet of
little string- coloured curls.
64 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
•* A proper letter ! — what with all that fuss about delicacy and
decorum ! *'
Yes, Miss. At least proper for the character. A School-
mistress is a prude by profession. She is bound on her reputa-
tion to detect improprieties, even as he is the best lawyer who
discovers the most flaws. It is her cue, where she cannot find
an indecorum, to imagine it ; — just as a paid Spy is compelled,
in a dearth of High Treason, to invent a conspiracy. In fact,
it was our very Miss Crane who poked out an objection, of which
no other woman would have dreamt, to those little button-mush-
rooms called Pages. She would not keep one, she said, for his
weight in gold.
" But they are all the rage," said Lady A.
" Everybody has one," said Mrs. B.
" They are so showy ! " said Mrs. C.
" And so interesting ! " lisped Miss D.
" And so useful ! " suggested Miss E.
" I would rather part with half my servants,'' declared Lady
A, *' than with my handsome Cherubino ! "
" Not a doubt of it,*' replied Miss Crane, with a gesture of
the most profound acquiescence. "But if T were a married
woman, I would not have such a boy about me for the world —
no, not for the whole terrestrial globe. A Page is unquestion-
ably very d la mode^ and very dashing, and very pretty, and
may be very useful — but to have a youth about one, so beauti-
fully dressed, and so indulged, not to say pampered, and yet not
exactly treated as one of the family — I should certainly expect
that everybody would take him- "
" For what, pray, what ? "
" Why, for a natural son in disguise"
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
65
CHAPTEE V.
But to return to the Tour. —
It is a statistical fact, that since 1814 an unknown number of
persons, bearing an indefinite proportion to the gross total of
the population of the British empire, have been more or less
"abroad." Not politically, or metaphysically, or figuratively,
but literally out of the kingdom, or, as it is called, in foreign
parts.
In fact, no sooner was the Continent opened to us by the
Peace, than there was a general rush towards the mainland. An
Alarmist, like old Croaker, might have fancied that some of our
"bibds of a featheb-
disaifected Merthyr Tydvil miners or underminers were scut-
tling the Island, so many of the natives scuttled out of it. The
outlandish secretaries, who sign passports, had hardly leisure to
take snufF.
66 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
It was good however for trade. Carpet-bags and portmanteaus
rose one hundred per cent. All sorts of Guide-books and
Journey Works went off like wildfire, and even Sir Humphry
Davy's "Consolations in Travel" was in strange request.
Servants, who had " no objection to go abroad " were snapped
up like fortunes — and as to hard-riding " Curriers," — there
was nothing like leather.
It resembled a geographical panic — and of all the Country
and Banks in Christendom, never was there such a run as on
the Banks of the Rhine. You would have thought that they
BA.BBLT Civil..
were going to break all to smash — of course making away be-
forehand with their splendid furniture, unrivalled pictures, and
capital cellar of wines ! However, off flew our countrymen and
countrywomen, like migrating swallows, but at the wrong time
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 67
of year ; or rather like shoals of salmon, striving up, up, up
against the stream, except to spawn Tours and Eeminiscences,
hard and soft, instead of roe. And would that they were going
up, up, up still — for when they came down again, Ods, Jobs,
and patent Grizels ! how they did bore and Germanise us, like
so many flutes.
It was impossible to go into Society without meeting units,
tens, hundreds, thousands of Ehenish Tourists — travellers in
Ditchland, and in Deutchland. People who had seen Nimagen
and Nim- Again — who had been at Cologne, and at Koeln, and
at Colon — at Cob-Longs and Coblence — at Swang Gwar and at
Saint Go-er — at Bonn — at Bone — and at Bong !
Then the airs they gave themselves over the untravelled ! How
they bothered them with Bergs, puzzled them with Bads, deaf-
ened them with Dorfs, worried them with Heims, and pelted
them with Steins ! How they looked down upon them, as if
from Ehrenbreitstein, because they had not eaten a German
sausage in Germany, sour krout iu its own country, and drunk
seltzer water at the fountain-head ! What a donkey they deemed
him who had not been to Assmanshausen — what a cockney who
had not seen a Rat's Castle besides the one in St. Giles's ! He
was, as it were, in the kitchen of society, for to go " up the
Rhine," was to go up stairs !
Now this very humiliation was felt by Miss Crane ; and the
more that in her establishment for Young Ladies she was the
Professor of Geography, and the Use of the Globes. Moreover,
several of her pupils had made the trip with their parents during
the vacations, and treated the travelling part of the business so
lightly, that in a rash hour the Schoolmistress determined to go
abroad. Her junior sister. Miss Ruth, gladly acceded to the
scheme, and so did their only remaining parent, a little, sickly,
querulous man, always in black, being some sort of dissenting
minister, as the " young ladies " knew to their cost, for they
68 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
had always to mark his new shirts, in cross-stitch, with the
Reverend T. C. and the number — "the Reverend" at full
length.
Accordingly, as soon as the Midsummer holidays set in, there
was packed — in I don't know how many trunks, bags, and cap-
boxes, — I don't know what luggage, except that for each of the
party there was a silver spoon, a knife and fork, and six towels.
** And pray, Sir, how far did your Schoolmistress mean to
go?"
To Gotha, Madam. Not because Bonaparte slept there on
his flight from Leipsic — nor yet from any sentimental recollec-
tions of Goethe^not to see the palace of Friedenstein and its
museum — nor to purchase an " Almanach de Gotha," nor even
because His Royal Highness Prince Albert, of Saxe Gotha, was
the Husband Elect of our Gracious Queen.
" Then what for, in the name of patience ? "
Why, because the Berlin wool was dyed there, and so she
could get what colour and shades she pleased.
CHAPTER VI.
" Now of aU things," cries a Needlewoman — one of those to
whom Parry alludes in his comic song of " Berlin Wool " —
" I should like to know what pattern the Schoolmistress meant
to work ! "
And so would say anyone — for no doubt it would have been
a pattern for the whole sex. AU I know is, that she once
worked a hearthrug, with a yellow animal, couchant, on a green
ground, that was intended for a panther in a jungle : and to do
justice to the performance, it was really not so very unlike a
carroty-cat in a bed of spinach. But the face was a dead failure.
It was not in the gentle womanly nature, nor indeed consistent
with the professional principles of Miss Crane, to let a wild,
rude, ungovernable creature go out of her hands ; and accord-
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
69
iugly the feline physiognomy came from her fingers as round,
and mild, and innocent as that of a Baby. In vain she added
whiskers to give ferocity — 'twas a Baby still — and though she
put a circle of fiery red around each staring ball, still, still it
was a mild, innocent Baby — but with very sore eyes.
And besides the hearthrug, she embroidered a chair-cushion,
for a seat devoted to her respectable parent — a pretty, ornitho-
logical design — so that when the Eeverend T. C. wanted to sit,
there was ready for him a little bird's-nest, with a batch of speckled
eggs.
And moreover, besides the chair-bottom but, in short,
between ourselves, there was so much Jancy work done at
Lebanon House, that there was no time for any real.
70 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABEOAD.
CHAPTER VII.
There are two Newingtons, Butts and Stoke ; — ^but the last
has the advantage of a little village-green, on the north side of which
stands a large brick-built, substantial mansion, in the comfort-
able old Elizabethan livery, maroon-colour, picked out with
white. It was anciently the residence of a noble family, whose
ciest, a deer's head, carved in stone, formerly ornamented each
pillar of the front gate : but some later proprietor has removed
the aristocratical emblems, and substituted two great white
balls, that look like petrified Dutch cheeses, or the ghosts of
the Celestial and Terrestrial Globes. The house, nevertheless,
would still seem venerable enough, but that over the old panelled
door, as if taking advantage of the fanlight, there sit, night and
day, two very modern plaster of Paris little boys, reading and
writing with all their might. Girls, however, would be more
appropriate ; for, just under the first floor windows, a large
board intimates, in tarnished gold letters, that the mansion is
•' Lebanon House, Establishment for Toung Ladies. By the
Misses Crane." Why it should be called Lebanon House
appears a mystery, seeing that the building stands not on a
mountain, but in a flat : but the truth is, that the name was
bestowed in allusion to a remarkably fine Cedar, which tradi-
tionally stood in the fore court, though long since cut down as
a tree, and cut up in lead pencils.
The front gate is carefully locked, the hour being later than
5 P. M., and the blinds are all down — but if anyone could peep
through the short Venetians next the door, on the right hand,
into the Music Parlour, he would see Miss Parfitt herself stealthily
playing on the grand piano (for it is Sunday) but with no more
sound than belongs to that tuneful whisper commonly called
" the ghost of a whistle." But let us pull the bell.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 71
" Sally, are the ladies at home ? "
"Lawk I Sir! — why haven't you heard? Miss Crane and
Miss Euth are a-pleasuring on a Tower up the Eind — and the
Eeverend Mr. C. is enjoying hisself in Germany along with
them."
Alas ! poor Sally ! Alas I for poor short-sighted human
nature !
"Why in the name of all that's anonymous, what is the
matter?"
Lies ! lies ! lies ! But it is impossible for Truth, the pure
Truth, to exist, save with Omnipresence and Omniscience. As
for mere mortals, they must daily vent falsehoods in spite of
themselves. Thus at the very moment, while Sally was telling
us — but let Truth herself correct the Errata.
Por — " The Eeverend Mr. C. enjoying himself in Ger-
many — "
Eead — " Writhing with sjpasms^ in a miserable Frmsian inn."
For — " Miss Crane and Miss Euth a-pleasuring on a Tour up
the Ehine — "
Eead — " Wishing themselves home again with all their hearts
and souls."
XSD BEAUTX DRAWS US WITil A SINGLE HAIB."
72
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
CHAPTER VIII.
It was a grievous case !
After all the troubles of the Reverend T. C. by sea and land
— his perplexities with the foreign coins at Rotterdam — with the
passports at Nimeguen — with the Douane at Arnheim — and with
the Speise-Karte at Cologne
To be taken ill, poor gentleman, with his old spasms, in such
a place as the road between Todberg and Grabheim, six good
miles at least from each, and not a decent inn at either ! And
in such weather too — unfit for anything with the semblance of
humanity to be abroad — a night in which a Christian farmer
would hardly have left out his scarecrow !
'•<«^:>5f9g3..
-ij>-»
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. . 73
The groans of the sufferer were pitiable — but what could be
done for his relief? on a blank desolate common without a
house in sight — no, not a hut ! His afflicted daughters could
only try to soothe him with words, vain words — assuasive per-
haps of mental pains, but as to any discourse arresting a phy-
sical ache, — ^you might as well take a pin to pin a bull with.
Besides, the poor women wanted comforting themselves. Gra-
cious Heaven ! Think of two single females, with a sick, per-
haps an expiring parent — shut up in a hired coach, on a stormy
night, in a foreign land — ay, in one of its dreariest places. The
sympathy of a third party, even a stranger, would have been
some support to them, but all they could get by their most
earnest appeals to the driver was a couple of unintelligible syl-
lables.
If they had only possessed a cordial — a flask of eau de vie !
Such a thing had indeed been proposed and prepared, but alas !
Miss Crane had wilfully left it behind. To think of Propriety
producing such a travelling accompaniment as a brandy-bottle
was out of the question. You might as well have looked for
claret from a pitcher-plant !
In the meantime the sick man continued to sign and moan —
his two girls could feel him twisting about between them.
" Oh, my poor dear papa ! " murmured Miss Crane, for she
did not " father " him even in that extremity. Then she groped
again despairingly in her bag for the smelling-bottle, but only
found instead of it an article she had brought along with her,
Heaven knows why, into Germany — the French mark !
" Oil — ah — ugh ! — hah ! " grumbled the sufferer, " Am I — ^to
— die — on — the road ? "
" Is he to die on the road ? " repeated Miss Crane through
the front window to the coachman, but with the same result as
before ; namely, two words in the unknown tongue.
" Kuth, what is yar vole ? "
74 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
Kuth shook her head in the dark.
" If he would only drive faster ! " exclaimed Miss Crane, and
again she talked through the front window. " My good man — "
(aeJUlUg?) "Euth, what's gefallish?" But Miss Euth was
as much in the dark as ever. " Do, do, do, make haste to
somewhere — " (Ja wold!) That phlegmatic driver would
drive her crazy !
Poor Miss Crane ! Poor Miss Euth ! Poor Eeverend T. C. !
My heart bleeds for them — and yet they must remain perhaps
for a full hour to come in that miserable condition. But no —
hark — ^that guttural sound which like a charm arrests eveiy
horse in Germany as soon as uttered — " Burr-r-r-r-r ! "
BODB's VARIATIOirS.
The coach stops ; and looking out on her own side through
the rain Miss Crane perceives a low dingy door, over which by
help of a lamp she discovers a white board, with some great
THE SCHOOLMISTEESS ABROAD. 75
black fowl painted on it, and a word underneath that to her
English eyes suggests a difficulty in procuring fresh eggs.
Whereas the Adler, instead of addling, hatches brood after brood
every year, till the number is quite wonderful, of little red and
black eagles.
However, the Eoyal Bird receives the distressed travellers
under its wing ; but my pen, though a steel one, shrinks from
the labour of scrambling and hoisting them from the Lohn
Kutsch into the Gast Haus.
In plump, there they are — in the best inn's best room, yet
not a whit preferable to the last chamber that lodged the *' great
Villiers." But hark ! they whisper,
Gracious powers ! Euth !
Gracious powers ! Priscilla ! ( What a wretched hole !
O LIST U»TO MY TALB OF WOE 1
CHAPTER IX.
I TAKE it for granted that no English traveller would will-
ingly lay up — unless particularly inndisposed — at an Inn. Still
less at a German one ; and least of all at a Prussian public-
house, in a rather private Prussian village. To be far from
well, and far from well lodged — to be ill, and ill attended — to
be poorly, and poorly fed — to be in a bad way, and a bad bed
— But let us pull up, with ideal reins, an imaginary nag, at such
76 tTHB SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
an outlandish Hostelrie, and take a peep at its " Entertainment
for Man and Horse."
Bur-r-r-r-r-iTrr !
Tlie nag stops as if charmed — and as cool and comfortable as
a cucumber — at least till it is peppered — for your German is so
tender of his beast that he would hardly allow his greyhound to
turn a hair —
Now then, for a shout ; and remember that in Kleinewinkel,
it will serve just as well to cry " Boxkeeper ! " as " Ostler ! "
but look, there is some one coming from the inn-door.
*Tis Katchen herself — with her bare head, her bright blue
gown, her scarlet apron — and a huge rye loaf under her left
arm. Her right hand grasps a knife. How plump and plea-
sant she looks ! and how kindly she smiles at everybody, in-
cluding the horse ! But see — she stops, and shifts the position
of the loaf. She presses it — as if to sweeten its sourness —
against her soft palpitating bosom, the very hemisphere that
holds her maiden heart. And now she begins to cut — or
rather haggle — for the knife is blunt, and the bread is hard ;
but she works with good will, and still hugging the loaf closer
and closer to her comely self, at last severs a liberal slice from
KEADS OF THE SAXOxVB.
the mass. Nor is she content to merely give it to her client,
but holds it out with her own hand to be eaten, till the last
morsel is taken from among her ruddy fingers by the lips •
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 77
of a sweet little chubby urchin ? — ^no — of our big, bony, iron-
gray post-horse !
Now then, Courteous Reader, let us step into the Stube, or
Travellers' Room ; and survey the fare, and the accommodation
prepared for us bipeds. Look at that bare floor — and that
dreary stove — and those smoky dingy walls — and for a night's
lodging, yonder wooden trough — far less desirable than a shake-
down of clean straw.
Then for the victualling, pray taste that Pythagorean soup —
and that drowned beef — and the rotten pickle- cabbage — and
those terrible Hog- Cartridges — and that lump of white soap,
flavoured with caraways, alias ewe-milk cheese —
And now just sip that Essigberger, sharp and sour enough to
provoke the " dura ilia Messorum " into an Iliac Passion — and
the terebinthine Krug Bier ! Would you not rather dine at the
cheapest ordinary at one, with all its niceties and nastities, plain
cooked in a London cellar ? And for a night's rest would you
not sooner seek a bed in the Bedford Nursery ? So much for
the " Entertainment for Man and horse " — a clear proof, ay,
as clear as the Author's own proof, with the date under his own
hand
Of what, Sir?
Why that Dean Swift's visit to Germany — if ever he did
visit Germany — must have been prior to his inditing the Fourth
Voyage of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, — namely to the Land of
the Houyhnhnms and the Yahoos, where the horses were better
boarded and lodged than mankind.
CHAPTER X.
To return to the afflicted trio — the horrified Miss Crane, the
desolate Ruth, and the writhing Reverend T. C. — in the small,
sordid, smoky, dark, dingy, dirty, musty, fusty, dusty best room
at the Adler. The most miserable " party in a parlour "
78
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
"*Twas their own faults ! " exclaims a shadowy Personage,
with peculiarly hard features — and yet not harder than they
need to be, considering against how many things, and how
violently she sets her face. But when did Prejudice ever
look prepossessing ? Never — since the Prench wore shoes d la
Dryade !
"'Twas their own faults," she cries, "for going abroad.
Why couldn't they stay comfortably at home, at Laburnam
House ? "
"Lebanon, Ma'am."
" Well, Lebanon. Or they might have gone up the Wye, or
up the Thames. I hate the K-hine. What business had they in
Prussia ? And of course they went through Holland. I hate
flats!"
BBIOGE OS SIGHS.
** Nevertheless, Madam, I have visited each of those countries,
and have found much to admire in both. For example "
" Oh, pray don't ! I hate to hear you say so. I hate every
body who doesn't hate every thing foreign."
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 79
" Possibly, Madam, you have never been abroad ? "
*' Oh, yes ! I once went over to Calais — and have hated my-
self ever since. I hate the Continent ! "
" For what reason. Madam ? "
" Pshaw ! I hate to give reasons. I hate the Continent —
because it is so large."
" Then you would, perhaps, like one of the Hebrides ? "
" No — I hate the Scotch. But what has that to do with your
Schoolmistress abroad ? — I hate governesses — and her Eeverend
sick father with his ridiculous spasms — I hate Dissenters — They
are not High Church,"
"Nay, my dear Madam, you are getting a little uncharitable."
" Charity ! I hate its name. It's a mere shield thrown over
hateful people. How are we to love those we like properly, if we
don't hate the others ? As the Corsair says,
" My very love to thee is hate to them."
"But I hate Byron."
" As a man, Ma'am, or as an author ? "
" Both. But I hate all authors — except Dr. Johnson."
" True — he liked a ' good hater.' "
" Well, Sir, and if he did ! He was quite in the right, and
I hate that Lord Chesterfield for quizzing him. But he was only
a lord among wits. Oh, how I hate the aristocracy ! "
" You do. Madam ! "
" Yes — they have such prejudices. And then they are so fond of
going abroad. Nothing but going to Paris, Rome, Naples, Old
Jerusalem, and New York — I hate the Americans — don't you ? "
" Why, really. Madam, your superior discernment and nice
taste may discover national bad qualities that escape less vigilant
observers."
" Phoo, phoo — I hate flummery. You know as well as I do
what an American is called — and if there's one name I hate more
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
than another, it's Jonathan. Eut to go back to Germany, and
those that go there. Talk of Pilgrims of the Ehine ! — I hate
that Bulwer. Yes, they set out, indeed, like Pilgrim's Progress,
and see Lions and Beautiful Houses, and want Interpreters, and
spy at Delectable Mountains — but there it ends ; for what with
queer caps and outlandish blouses — I hate smock-frocks— they
come back hardly like Christians. There's my own husband,
Mr. P.— I quite hate to see him ! "
" Indeed ! "
" Yes — I hate to cast my eyes on him. He hasn't had his hair
cut these twelvemonths — I hate long hair — and when he shaves
he leaves two little black tails on his upper lip, and another on
his chin, as if he was real ermine."
" A moustache, Madam, is in fashion."
*' Yes, and a oeard, too, like a Rabbi — but I hate Jews. And
then Mr. P. has learnt to smoke — I hate smoke — I hate tobacco
— and I hate to be
called a Prow — and to
be spun round and
round till I am as sick
as a dog — for I hate
waltzing. Then don't
he stink the whole
house with decayed
cabbage for his sour
krout — I hate German
cookery — and will have
oiled melted butter be-
cause they can't help it
abroad? — and there's
nothing so hateful as
oiled butter. What next? Why, he won't drink my home-
made wine — at least if I don't call it Hock, or Rude-something,
THE SCHOOLMIbTRESS ABROAD. 81
and give it him in a green glass. I hate such nonsense. As
for conversing, whatever we begin upon, if it's Harfordshire, he's
sure to get at last to the tiptop of Herring-Brightshine — I hate
such rambling. But that's not half so hateful as his Monoma-
nium."
" His what, Madam ? "
" Why his hankc^ring so after suicide (I do hate Charlotte and
Werter), that one can't indulge in the least tiif but he threatens
to blow out his brains ! "
" Seriously ? "
" Seriously, Sir. I hate joking. And then there are his hor-
rid noises ; for since he was in, Germany, he fancies that every
body must be musical — I hate such wholesale notions — and so
sings all day long, without a good note in his voice. So much
for Poreign Touring ! But pray go on. Sir, with the story of
your Schoolmistress Abroad. I hate suspense."
CHAPTEE XI.
Now the exclamation of Miss Crane — " Gracious heavens,
Ruth, what a wretched hole ! " — was not a single-horse power
too strong for the occasion. Her first glance round the squalid
room at the Adler convinced her that whatever might be the geo-
graphical distance on the map, she was morally two hundred and
thirty-seven thousand miles from Home. That is to say, it was
about as distant as the Earth from the Moon. And truly had
she been transferred, no matter how, to that Planet, with its
no-atmosphere, she could not have been more out of her ele-
ment. In fact, she felt for some moments as if she must
sink on the floor — just as some delicate flower, transplanted
into a strange soil, gives way in every green fibre, and droops
to the mould in a vegetable fainting-fit, from which only time
and the watering-pot can recover it.
Her younger sister, Miss Kuth, was somewhat less discon-
82
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
certed. She had by her position the greater share in the active
duties at Lebanon House: and under ordinary circumstances,
would not have been utterly at a loss what to do for the comfort
INN-OLBMJENOX.
or relief of her parent. But in every direction in which her in-
stinct and habits would have prompted her to look, the materials
she sought were deficient. There was no easy chair — no fire to
wheel it to — no cushion to shake up — no cupboard to go to — no
female friend to consult — no Miss Parfitt — no Cook — no John
to send for the Doctor. No English — no French — nothing but
that dreadful '* Gefallig " or " Ja Wohl " and the equally in-
comprehensible " Gnadige Frau ! "
As for the Eeverend T. C, he sat twisting about on his hard
wooden chair, groaning, and making ugly faces, as much from
peevishness and impatience as from pain, and indeed sometimee
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
plainly levelled his grimaces at the simple Germans who stood
round, staring at him, it must be confessed, as unceremoniously
as if he had been only a great fish, gasping and wriggling on dry
land.
In the meantime, his bewildered daughters held him one by
the right hand, the other by the left, and earnestly watched his
changing countenance, unconsciously imitating some of its most
violent contortions. It did no good of course ; but what else
was to be done ? In fact they were as much puzzled with their
patient as a certain worthy tradesman, when a poor shattered
creature on a shutter was carried into his Pioor-cloth Manufac-
tory by mistake for the Hospital.
The only thing that occurred to either of the females was to op-
pose every motion he made, — for fear it should be wrong, and
accordingly whenever he attempted to lean towards the right
side, they invariably bent him as much to the left.
"Der Herr," said the German coachman, turning towards
Miss Priscilla, with his pipe hanging from his teeth, and venting
a puff of smoke that made her re-
coil three steps backward — "Der
Herr ist sehr krank."
The last word had occurred so
frequently, on the organ of the
Schoolmistress, that it had acquired
in her mind some important sig-
nificance.
" Ruth, what is krank ? "
*' How should I know ? " retorted
Euth, with an asperity apt to ac-
company intense excitement and
perplexity. " In English, it's a
thing that helps to pull the bell. But look at papa — do help to
support him — you're good for nothing."
A STITCH IN TIME.
84 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
" I am indeed," murmured poor Miss Priscilla, with a gentle
shake of her head, and a low, slow, sigh of acquiescence. Alas !
as she ran over the catalogue of her accomplishments, the more
she remembered what she could do for her sick parent, the more
helpless and useless she appeared. For instance, she could have
embroidered him a night-cap —
Or netted him a silk purse —
Or plaited him a guard-chain —
Or cut him out a watch-paper —
Or ornamented his braces with bead-work —
Or embroidered his waistcoat —
Or worked him a pair of slippers —
Or open-worked his pocket-handkerchief.
She could even — if such an operation would have been comfort-
ing or salutary— have rough-casted him with shell-work —
Or coated him with red or black seals —
Or encrusted hirn with blue alum —
Or stuck him all over with coloured wafers—
Or festooned him
But alas ! alas ! alas ! what would it have availed her poor dear
papa in the spasmodics, if she had even festooned him, from top
to toe, with little rice-paper roses !
CHAPTER XII.
" Mercy on me ! '*
[N.B. Not on Me, the Author, but on a little dwarfish,
"smooth-legged Bantam." of a woman, with a sharp nose, a
shrewish mouth, and a pair of very active black eyes — and withal
as brisk and bustling in her movements as any Partlet with ten
chicks of her own, and six adopted ones trom another hen.]
" Mercy on me ! Why the poor gentleman would die while
them lumpish foreigners and his two great helpless daughters
were looking on ! As for that Miss Priscilla — she's like
a born idiot. Panc^woik him, indeed ! I've no patience
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
85
— as it' with ali her Berlin wools and patterns, she could
fancywork him into a picture of health. "Why didn't
he think of something comforting for his inside, instead
of embellishing his out — something as would agree, in
lieu of filagree, with his case ? A little good hot brandy-and-
water with a grate of ginger, or some nice red-wine negus with
nutmeg and toast— and then get him to bed, and send off for
the doctor. I'll warrant if I'd been there, I'd have unspasm'd
him in no time. Fd have whipped off his shoes and stock-
ings, and had his poor feet in hot water afore he knew where he
was."
There can be no doubt, Ma'am, of the warmth of youi
humanity.
UKQOMAHTiiii.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
" Wanntli ! it's every thing. I'd have just given him a touch
of the warming-pan, and then smothered ^im in hlanlcpts. Stiek
him all over with little
roses! stuff and non-
sense — stick him into
his grave at once!
Miss Crane ? Miss
Goose, rather. A poor
helpless JSavviiev ! I
wonder what women
come into the world
for, if it isn't to be good
nusses. For my part,
if he had been my sick
father, I'd have had
him on his legs again
in a jiffy — and then he
might have got crusty with blue alum or whatever else he pre-
ferred."
" But Madam— "
" Such perfect apathy ! Needlework and embroidery, for-
sooth ! "
♦'But Madam—"
" To have a dying parent before her eyes — and think of no-
thing but trimming his jacket ! "
"But—"
" A pretty Schoolmistress, truly, to set such an example to the
rising generation ! As if she couldn't have warmed him a soft
flanning ! or given him a few Lavender Drops, or even got down
a little real Turkey or calcined Henry."
•' Of course. Madam — or a little Moxon. And in regard to
Conchology."
" Conk what ? "
A. BUBGOillSTUESS.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 87
" Or as to Chronology. Could you have supplied the Patient
with a few prominent dates ? '*
" Dates ! what those stony things — for a spasmodic stomaca
" Are you really at home in Arrowsmith ? "
" You mean Arrow-root."
"Are you an adept in Butler's Exercises ? "
*' What, drawing o' corks ? "
•• Could you critically examine him in his parts of speecn — ►
the rudiments of his native tongue ? "
" To be sure I could. And if it was white and furry, tnere s
fever."
" Are you acquainted, Madam, with Lindley Murray ? "
" Why no — I can't say I am. My own medical man is Mr.
Prodgers."
" In short, could you prepare a mind for refined intellectual
intercourse in future life, with a strict attention to religious
duties?"
" Prepare his mind — religious duties ? — Phoo, phoo ! he
wam't come to that ! "
" Excuse me, I mean to ask. Ma'am, whether you consider
yourself competent to instruct Young Ladies in all those branches
of knowledge and female accomplishments "
" Me ! What, me keep a 'Cademy ? Why, I've hardly had
any edecation myself, but was accomplished in three quarters
and a bit over. Lor bless you, Sir ! I should be as much at sea,
as a finishing-ofF Governess, as a bear in a boat ! "
Exactly, Madam. And just as helpless, useless, and power-
less as you would be in a school-room, even so helpless, useless,
and powerless was Miss Crane whenever she happened to be out
of one. — Yea, as utterly flabbergasted when out of her own
element, as a Jelly Fish on Brighton beach !
88
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
CHAPTER XIII.
Relief at last !
It was honest Hans the hired Coachman, with a glass of
something in his hand, which after a nod towards the invalid, to
signify the destination of the dose, he held out to Miss Priscilla,
at the same time uttering certain gutturals, as if asking her ap-
proval of the prescription.
" Ruth— what is Snaps ? "
" Take it and smell it," replied Miss Ruth, still with some
asperity, as if annoyed at the imbecility of her senior: but
secretly worried by her own deficiency in the tongues. The
truth is, that the native who taught French with the Parisian
accent at Lebanon House, the Italian Mistress in the Prospectus
IU£ NICK Oe TXMJi.
and Miss Ruth who professed English Grammar and Poetry,
were all one and the same person : not to name a lady, not
so distinctly put forward, who was supposed to know a little of
the language which is spoken at Berlin. Hence her annoyance,
" 1 think," said Miss Priscilla, holding the wine-glass at a
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 89
discreet distance from her nose, and rather prudishly sniffing the
liquor, "it appears to me that it is some sort of foreign Gr.'*
So saying, she prepared to return the dram to the kindly
Kutscher, but her professional delicacy instinctively shrinking
from too intimate contact with the hand of the strange man, she
contrived to let go of the glass a second or two before he got
hold of it, and the Schnapps fell, with a crash, to the ground.
The introduction of the cordial had, however, served to direct
the mind of Miss Euth to the propriety of procuring some re-
freshment for the sufferer. He certainly ought to have something,
she said, for he was getting quite faint. What the something
ought to be was a question of more difficulty — but the scholastic
memory of Miss Priscilla at last supplied a suggestion.
" What do you think, Ruth, of a little horehound tea ? "
" Well, ask for it," replied Ruth, not indeed from any faith
in the efficacy of the article, but because it was as likely to be
obtained for the asking for — in English — as anything else.
And tmly, when Miss Crane made the experiment, the Germans,
one and all, man and woman, shook their heads at the remedy,
but seemed unanimously to recommend a certain something else.
*' Ruth — what is forstend nix ? "
But Ruth was silent.
" They all appear to think very highly of it, however," con-
tinued Miss Priscilla, "and I should like to know where to
find it."
" It will be in the kitchen, if any where," said Miss Ruth,
while the invalid — whether from a fresh access of pain, or only at
the tantalising nature of the discussion — gave a low groan.
" My poor dear papa ! He will sink — he will perish from
exhaustion I " exclaimed the terrified Miss Priscilla ; and with
a desperate resolution, quite foreign to her nature, she volun-
teered on the forlorn hope, and snatching up a candle, made her
way without thinking: of the impropriety into the strange kitchen.
90
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
The housewife and her maid slowly followed the Schoolmistress,
and whether from national phlegm or intense curiosity, or both
together, offered neither help nor hindrance to the foreign lady,
but stood by, and looked on at her operations.
And here be it noted, in order to properly estimate the dif-
ficulties which lay in her path, that the governess had no distinct
recollection of having ever been in a kitchen in the course of her
VOB BVRLB OK WOBSB.
life. It was a Terra Incognita — a place of which she literally
knew less than of Japan. Indeed, the laws, customs, ceremonies,
mysteries and utensils of the kitchen were more strange to her
than those of the Chinese. For aught she knew the cook herself
was the dresser ; and a rolling pin might have a head at one end
and a sharp point at the other. The Jack, according to Natural
History, was a fish. The flour-tub, as Botany suggested, might
contain an orange-tree, and the range might be that of the
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABEQAD. ^^
" IT'S VA.STB— COMMON PASXB."
92 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
Barometer. As to the culinary works, in which almost every
female dabbles, she had never dipped into one of them, and
knew no more how to boil an egg than if she had been the hen
that laid it, or the cock that cackled over it. Still a natural turn
for the art, backed by a good bright fire, might have surmounted
her rawness.
But Miss Crane was none of those natural geniuses in the art
who can extemporise Plint Broth — and toss up something out of
nothing at the shortest notice. It is doubtful if, with the whole
Midsummer holidays before her, she could successfully have un-
dertaken a pancake — or have got up even a hasty-pudding with-
out a quarter's notice. For once, however, she was impelled by
the painful exigency of the hour to test her ability, and finding
certain ingredients to her hand, and subjecting them to the best
or simplest process that occurred to her, in due time she re-
turned, cup in hand, to the sick room, and proffered to her poor
dear papa the result of her first maiden effort iu cookery.
" What is it ? " asked Euth, naturally curious, as well as
anxious as to the nature of so novel an experiment.
" Pah ! puh ! poof — phew ! chut ! " spluttered the Reverend
T. C, unceremoniously getting rid of the first spoonful of the
mixture. "It's paste — common paste ! "
CHAPTER XIV.
Poor Miss Crane ! .
The failure of her first little culinary experiment reduced her
again to despair. If there be not already a Statue of Disappoint-
ment, she would haVe served for its model. It would have
melted an Iron Master to have seen her with her eyes fixed in-
tently on the unfortunate cup of paste, as if asking herself,
mentally, was it possible that what she had prepared with such
pains for the refreshment of a sick parent, was only fit for —
what? — Why, for the false tin stomach of a healthy bill sticker?
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 93
Dearly as she rated her professional accomplishments and
acquirements, I verily believe that at that cruel moment she
would have given up all her consummate skill in Fancy Work,
to have known how to make a basin of gruel ! Proud as she
was of her embroidery, she would have exchanged her cunning
in it for that of the plainest cook, — for oh ! of what avail her
Tent Stitch, Chain Stitch, German Stitch, or Satin Stitch,
to relieve or soothe a suffering father, afflicted with back stitch,
front stitch, side stitch, and cross stitch into the bargain ?
Nay, of what use was her solider knowledge ? — for example,
in History, Geography, Botany, Conchology, Geology, and
Astronomy ? Of what effect was it that she knew the scientific
names for coal and slate, — or what comfort that she could tell
him how many stars there are in Cassiopeia's Chair whilst he
was twisting with agony on a hard wooden one ?
*' It's no use talking ! " exclaimed Miss Ruth, after a long
silence, '* we must have medical advice."
But how to obtain it ? To call in even an apothecary, one
must call in his own language, and the two sisters between
them did not possess German enough. High or Low, to call for
a Doctor's boy. The hint, however, was not lost on the
Reverend T. C, who, with a perversity not unusual, seemed to
think that he could diminish his own sufferings by inflicting
pain on those about him. Accordingly, he no sooner overheard
the wish for a Doctor, than with renewed moanings and contor-
tions he muttered the name of a drug that he felt sure would re-
lieve him. But the physic was as difficult to procure as the
physician. In vain Miss Ruth turned in succession to the Host,
the Hostess, the Maid, the Waiter, and Hans the Coachman,
and to each separately repeated the word " Ru-bub." The Host,
the Hostess, the Maid, the Waiter, and Hans the Coachman,
only shook their heads in concert, and uttered in chorus
the old " forstend nicht."
94 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
*' Oh, I do wish," exclaimed Miss Crane, with a tone and a
gesture of the keenest self-reproach, " how I do wish that 1 had
brought Buchan's Domestic Medicine abroad with me, instead
of Thomson's Seasons ! "
"And of what use would that have been without the medicine-
chest ? " asked Miss Ruth ; " for I don't pretend to write pre-
scriptions in German."
" That's very true," said Miss Crane, with a long deep sigh —
whilst the sick man, from pain or wilfulness, Heaven alone
knew which — gave a groan, so terrific that it startled evea the
phlegmatic Germans.
*• My papa ! — my poor dear papa ! '* shrieked the agitated
governess ; and with some confused notions of a fainting-fit —
for he had closed his eyes, — and still conscious of a cup in her
hand, though not of its contents, she chucked the paste — that
twice unfortunate paste ! — into the face of her beloved parent !
CHAPTER XV.
** And serve him right, too ! " cries the little smart bantam-
like woman alreadv introrlnced to the Courteous Reader. "An
•' IW FOB IX \ "
old good-for-nothing ! to sham worse than he was, and play on
the tender feelings of two affectionate daughters! I'd have
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
95
pasted him myself if lie had been fifty fathers ! Not that I
think a bit the better of that Miss Crane, who after all, did not
do it on purpose. She's as great a gawky as ever. To think
with all her schooling she couldn't get a doctor fetched for the
old gentleman ! "
*' But, my dear Madam, she was ignorant of the language."
" Ignorant of fiddlesticks ! How do the deaf and dumb people
do?
If she couldn't talk to the Germans she might have made
signs.
Impossible ! Pray remember that Miss Crane was a school-
mistress, and of the ancien regime^ in whose code all face-
making, posturing, and gesticulations, were high crimes and
misdemeanors. Many a little Miss Gubbins or Miss Wiggins
she had punished with an extra task, if not with the rod itself,
for nodding, winking, or talking with their fino^ers ; and is it
likely that she would personally
have had recourse to signs and
signals for which she had
punished her pupils with such
severity? Do you think that
with her rigid notions of pro-
priety, and her figure, she
would ever have stooped to
what she would have called
buffoonery ?
" Why to be sure, if you
haven't high-coloured her pic-
ture she is starched and frumpish enough, and only fit for a
place among the wax-work ! "
And besides, supposing physiognomical expression as weU as
gesticulation to be included in sign-making, this Silent Art re-
quires study and practice, and a peculiar talent ! Pray did you
ever see Grimaldi ?
M TUB GBBMaX.
96
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
" What Joey ! Did I ever see Lonnon ! Did I ever go to
the Wells ! "
rare Joe Grimaldi ! Great as was my admiration of the
genius of that inimitable clown, never, never did it rise to its
true pitch till I had been cast all abroad in a foreign country
without any knowledge of its language ! To the richness of his
fun— to his wonderful agility — to his unique singing and hi^
grotesque dancing, I per-
haps had done ample
justice — but never, till I
had broken down in fifty
pantomimical attempts of
my own — nay, in twice
fifty experiments in dumb
show — did I properly ap-
preciate his extraordinary
power of making himself
understood without being thk jugqi.br.
on speaking terms with his company. His performance was
never, like mine, an Acted Riddle. A living Telegraph, he
never failed in conveying his intelligence, but signalled it with
such distinctness, that his meaning was visible to the dullest
capacity.
" And your own attempts in the line, Sir ? '*
Utter failures. Often and often have I gone through as
many physical manoeuvres as the Englishman in "Rabelais,"
who argued by signs ; but constantly without explaining my
meaning, and consequently without obtaining my object. From
all which, my dear Madam, I have derived this moral, that he
who visits a foreign country, without knowing the language,
ought to be prepared beforehand either to act like a Clown, or
to look like a Fool.
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 97
CHAPTER XVI.
It was a good-natured act of honest Hans the Coachman—
and especially after the treatment of his Schnapps— but seeing
the Englishers at a dead lock, and partly guessing at the cause
of theii- distress — he quietly went to the stable, saddled one of
his own horses, and rode off in quest of a medical man.
Luckily he soon met with the personage he wanted, whom with
great satisfaction he ushered into the little, dim, dirty parlour
at the Black Eagle, and introduced, as well as he could, to the
Foreigners in Distress.
Now the Physician who regularly visited at Lebanon House
was, of course, one of the
old school ; and in correct-
ness of costume and profes-
sional formality was scarcely
inferior to the immaculate
lady who presided over that
establishment. There was
no mistaking him, like some
modern practitioners, for a
merchant or a man abou;
town. He was as carefully
made up as a prescription —
and between the customary
sables, and a Chesterfieldian
courtesy, appeared as a doctor
of the old school always used
to do — like a piece of sticK-
ing-plaster — black, pohshed,
THE VlSIOir OF DOM BODBBIUK. aud hcaliUff.
Judge then of tlie horror and amazement of the School-
mistress, when she saw bclore her a great clumsy-built M.D,,
98 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
enveloped in a huge gray cloak, with a cape that fell below his
elbows, and his head covered with what she had always under-
stood was a jockey- cap !
" Gracious Heaven ! — why, he's a horse-doctor ! "
" Doctor ? — ja wohl," said Hans, with a score of affirmative
Kttle nods ; and then he added the professional grade of the
party, which happened to be one of a most uncouth sound to an
English ear.
" Kuth, what's a medicine rat ? "
"Lord knows," answered Miss Euth; "the language is as
barbarous as the people ! "
In the mean time the Medicin Rath threw off his huge cloak
and displayed a costume equally at variance with Miss Crane's
notions of the proper uniform of his order. No black coat, no
black smalls, no black silk stockings — why, any undertaker in
London would have looked more like a doctor ! His coat was
a bright brown frock, his waistcoat as gay and variegated as
her own favourite parterre of larkspurs, and his trowsers of plum
colour ! Of her own accord she would not have called him in
to a juvenile chicken-pock or a nettlerash — and there he was to
to treat full-grown spasms in an adult !
"Je suis medecin. Monsieur, a votre service," said the
stranger, in French more guttural than nasal, and with a bow to
the sick gentleman.
" Mais, docteur," hastily interposed Miss Ruth, " vous etes
un docteur a cheval."
This translation of " horse-doctor " being perfectly unintelli-
gible to the German, he again addressed himself to his patient,
and proceeded to feel his pulse.
" Papa is subject to spasms in his chest," explained Miss
Crane.
"Pshaw — nonsense!" whined the Reverend T. C, "they're
in my stomach."
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 99
" They're in his stomach," repeated Miss Crane, delicately
laying her own hand, by way of explanation, on her sternum.
" Monsieur a mange du diner ? "
" Only a little beef," said Miss Crane, who " understood **
French, but " did not speak it."
" Seulement un petit boeuf," translated Miss Ruth, who spoke
French, but did not understand it.
•' Oui — c'est une indigestion, sans doute," said the Doctor.
CHAPTEE XVII.
Hark !
" It's shameful ! abominable ! atrocious ! It's a skit on all
the schoolmistresses — a wicked libel on the whole profession ! "
But my dear Mrs.
" Don't * dear ' mey Sir ! I consider myself personally in-
sulted. " Manger un petty boof ! As if a governess couldn't
speak better French than that ! Why, it means eating a little
bullock ! "
Precisely. Bceiif, singular, masculine, a bullock or ox.
*' Ridiculous ! And from one of the heads of a seminary !
Why, Sir, not to speak of myself or the teachers, I have a pupil
at Prospect House, and only twelve years of age, who speaks
French like a native."
Of where, Madam ?
** Of where, Sir? — why, of all France, to be sure, and Paris
in particular ! "
And with the true accent ?
" Yes, Sir, with all the accents — sharp, grave, and circum-
bendibus — I should have said circumflex, but you have put me
in a fluster. French ! why it's the comer-stone of female educa-
tion. It's universal. Sir, from her ladyship down to her cook.
We could neither dress ourselves nor our dinners without it I
100
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
And that the Miss Cranes know French I am morally certain,
for I have seen it in their Prospectus."
No doubt of it. Madam. But you are of course aware that
there are two sorts — French French and English French — and
which are as different in quality as the foreign Cognac and the
British Brandy.
•* I know nothing about ardent spirits, Sir. And as to the
French language, I am acquainted with only one sort, and that
is what is taught at Prospect House — at three guineas a quarter."
And do all your young ladies,
Ma'am, turn out such proficients in
the language as the prodigy you
have just mentioned ?
" Proficient, Sir ? — they can't
help it in my establishment. Let
me see — there's Chambaud on
Mondays — Wanostrocht on Wed-
nesdays — Telemaque on Fridays,
and the French mark every day in
the week."
Madam, I have no doubt of the ^^^^B
excellence of your system. Never-
theless it is quite true that the wubstobine.
younger Miss Crane made use of the very phrase which I have
quoted. And what is more, when the doctor called on his
patient the next morning, he was treated with quite as bad
language. For example, when he inquired after her papa —
" 11 est tres mauvais,*' replied Miss Ruth with a desponding
shake of her head. ** 11 a avale son medecin — et il n'est pas
mieux.*'
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ,ABkOAD. 101
CHAPTER XVIII.
To return to the sick chamber.
Imagine the Rev. T. C. still sitting and moaning in his un-
easy chair, the disconsolate Miss Crane helplessly watching the
parental grimaces, and the perplexed Miss Ruth standing in a
brown study, with her eyes intently fixed on a sort of overgrown
child's crib, which occupied one dark corner of the dingy apart-
ment.
" It's very well," she muttered to herself, " for a foreign
doctor to say * laissez le coucher," but where is he to coucher ? "
Not surely in that little crib of a thing, which will only add the
cramp in Ids poor legs to the spasms in his poor stomach ! The
Mother of Invention was however at her elbow, to suggest an
expedient, and in a trice the bedding was dragged from the
bedstead and spread upon the floor. During this manoeuvre
Miss Crane of course only looked on; she had never in her life
made a bed, even in the regular way, and the touzling of a
shakedown on the bare boards was far too Margery Dawish an
operation for her precise nature to be concerned in. Moreover,
her thoughts were fuUy occupied by a question infallibly as-
sociated with a strange bed, namely, whether it had been aired.
A speculation which had already occurred to her sister, but
whose more practical mind was busy in contriving how to get
at the warming-pan. But in vain she asked for it by name of
every German, male or female, in the room, and as vainly she
sought for the utensil in the inn kitchen, and quite as vainly
might she have hunted for it throughout the village, seeing that
no such arjcie had ever been met with by the oldest inhabitant.
As a last resource she caught up a walking-stick, and thrusting
one end under the blanket, endeavoured pantomimically to im-
itate a chamber-maid in the act of warming a bed. But alas 1
'It)^ ' TBE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABEOAD.
she " took nothing by her motion " — the Germans only turned
tow aids each other, and shrugging their shoulders and grinning,
ren?arked in their own tongue, " What droll people they were
tlose Eimliaiicrs ! "
GEEMAIT CAPTtVATIOlf.
CHPECH AECHITKCTUEB." A GJEEMAK WOEK
The sensitive imagination of Miss Crane had in the interim
conjured up new and more delicate difficulties and necessities,
amongst which the services of a chamberlain were not the least
urgent. " Who was to put her papa to bed ? Who was to un-
dress him?" But from this perplexity shew as unexpectedly
delivered by that humble friend in need, honest Hans, who no
sooKcr saw the bed free from the walking-stick, than without any
bidding, and in spite of the resistance of the patient, he fairly
stripped him to his shirt, and then taking him up in his arms like
a baby, deposited him, willy niliy, in the nest that had been
prepared for him.
The females, during the first of these operations, retired to
the kitchen — but not without a certain order in their going.
Miss Crane went off simultaneously with the coat, her sister with
the small clothes and the shoes and stockings. And when, alter
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 103
^^-^JLC^
T^JlD £S£irOH)
104 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
a due and decent interval, the two governesses returned to the
sick chamber — for both had resolved on sitting up with the
uivaiid — lo ! there lay the Keverend T. C, regularly littered
down by the coachman with a truss of clean straw to eke out the
bedding, — no longer writhing or moaning, but between surprise
and anger as still and silent as if his groans had been astonished
away like the " hiccups 1 "
You may take a horse to the water, however, but you cannot
make him drink, — and even thus, the sick man, though bedded
perforce, refused obstinately to go to sleep.
" Et Monsieur a bien dormi ? '* inquired the German doctor
the next morning.
" Pas un — '* begun Miss Crane, but she ran aground for the
next word, and was obliged to appeal to the linguist of Lebanon
House.
" Ruth— what's a wink ? "
" I don't know," replied Miss Ruth, who was absorbed in
some active process. " Do it with your eye."
The idea of winking at a strange gentleman was however so
obnoxious to all the schoolmistress's notions of propriety that
she at once resigned the explanation to her sister, who accord-
ingly informed the physician that her ** pauvre pere n'avoit paB
dormi un mor(,*eau toute la nuit longue.
THE SCflOOLMISTKESS ABROAD, 105
CHAPTER XIX.
** Stop, Sir ! Pray change the subject. By your leave we
have had quite enough of bad French."
As you please, Madam — and as the greatest change I can
devise, you shall now have a little bad English. Please, then,
lend your attention to Monsieur De
Bourg — the subject of his discourse
ought indeed to be of some interest
to you, namely, the education of
your own sex in your own country.
•' Well, Sir, and what does he say
of it ? "
Listen, and you shall hear. Pro-
ceed, Monsieur.
" Sare, I shall tell you my im-
THF, GEHMAN MU8B. prcssious whcu I am come first from
Paris to London. De English Ladies, I say to myself, must be
de most best educate women in de whole world. Dere is schools
for dem every wheres — in a hole and in a corner. Let me take
some walks in de Fauxbourgs, and what do I see all round my-
self ? When I look dis way I see on a white house's front a
large bord wid some gilded letters, which say Seminary for
Young Ladies. When I look dat way, at a big red house, I see
anoder bord which say Establishment for Young Ladies by Miss
Someones. And when I look up at a little house, at a little
window, over a barber-shop, I read on a paper Ladies' School.
Den I see Prospect House, and Grove House, and de Manor
House — so many I cannot call dem names, and also all schools
for de young females. Day Schools besides. And in my walks,
always I meet some Schools of Young Ladies, eight, nine, ten
106 THE SCHOOLMISTEESS ABROAD.
times in one day, making dere promenades, two and two and two.
Den I come home to my lodging's door, and below the knocker
I see one letter — I open it, and I find a Prospectus of a Lady
School. By-and-bye I say to my landlady, where is your old-
est of daughters, which used to bring to me my breakfast ? and
she tell me she is gone out a governess. Next she notice me I
must quit my appartement. What for ? — I say. What have I
done ? Do I not pay you all right like a weekly man of hon-
our ? certainly, Mounseer, she say, you are a gentleman quite,
and no mistakes — but I wants my whole of my house to myself
for to set it up for a Lady School. Noting but Lady Schools 1
— and de widow of de butcher have one more over de street.
Bless my soul and my body, I say to myself, dere must be no-
body born'd in London except leetle girls ! "
CHAPTEE XX.
There is a certain poor word in the English language which
of late years has been exceedingly ill-used — and, it must be said,
by those who ought to have known better.
To the disgrace of our colleges, the word in question was first
perverted from its real significance at the very head-quarters of
learning. The initiated, indeed, are aware of its local sense, —
but who knows what cost and inconvenience the duplicity of the
term may have caused to the more ignorant members of the com-
munity ? Just imagine, for instance, a plain, down-right En-
glishman who calls a spade a spade — induced perhaps by the
facilities of the railroads — making a summer holiday, and re-
pairing to Cambridge or Oxford, may be with his whole family,
to see he does not exactly know what — whether a Collection of
Pictures, Wax- Work, Wild Beasts, Wild Indians, a Fat Ox, or
a Fat Child — but at any rate an " Exhibition ! "
More recently the members of the faculty have taken it into
their heads to misuse the unfortunate word, and by help of its
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
107
misapplication, are continually promising to the ear what the
druggists really perform to the eye — namely, to " exhibit " their
medicines. If the Doctors talked of hiding them, the phrase
would be more germane to the act : for it would be difficult to
conceal a little Pulv. Eliei — Magnes. Sulphat. — Tinct. Jalapaj,
more effectually than by throwing it into a man's or woman's
stomach. And pity it is that the term has not amongst medical
men a more literal significance ; for it is certain that in many
diseases, and especially of the hypochondriac class — it is certain,
I say, that if the practitioner actually made " a show " of his
materiel, the patient would recover at the mere sight of the
«' Exhibition."
THa BA.TTLK Oil KAUOUKff.
This was precisely the case with the Kev. T. C. Had he
fallen into the hands of a Homceopathist with his infinitesimal
doses, only fit to be exhibited like the infinitesimal insects,
108 THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.
through a solar microscope, his recovery would have been hope-
-. But his better fortune provided otherwise. The German
«!iciii Kath who prescribed for him, was in theory diametric-
iii\ op|)osed to Hahnemann, and in his tactics he followed Na-
poleon, whose leading principle was to biingj masses of all arms,
horse, foot, and artillery to bear on a given point. In accord-
ance with this system, he therefore prescribed so liberally that
the following articles were in a very short time comprised in his
** Exhibition : "
A series of powders to be taken every two hours.
A set of draughts to wash down the powders.
A box of pills.
A bag full of certain herbs for fomentations.
A large blister, to be put between the shoulders.
Twenty leeches, to be applied to the stomach.
As Macheath sings, " a terrible show ! " — but the doctor, in
common with his countrymen, entertained some rather exagger-
ated notions as to English habits, and our general addiction to
high feeding and fast living — an impression that materially ag-
gravated the treatment.
" He must be a horse-doctor ! " thought INIiss Crane, as she
looked over the above articles ; at any rate she resolved — as if
governed by the proportion of four legs to two — that her parent
should only take one half of each dose that was ordered. But
even these reduced quantities were too much for the Eev. T. C.
The first instalment he swallowed- the second he smelt, and the
third he merely looked at. To tell the truth, he was fast trans-
forming from a Malade Imaginaire into a Malade Malgre Lui.
In short, the cure proceeded with the rapidity of a Hohenlohe
miracle — a result the doctor did not fail to attribute to the
energy of his measures, at the same time resolving that the next
English patient he might catch should be subjected to the same
decisive treatment. Heaven keep the half, three-quarters, and
THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD. 109
whole lengths of my dear countrymen and countrywomen from
his " Exhibitions ! "
His third visit to the Englishers at the Adler was his last.
He found the Convalescent in his travelling dress, — Miss Ruth
engaged in packing, — and the Schoolmistress writing the letter
which was to prepare Miss Parfitt for the speedy return of the
family party to Lebanon House. It was of course a busy time ;
and the Medicin Rath speedily took his fees and his leave.
There remained only the account to settle with the landlord of
the Adler; and as English families rarely stopped at that
wretched inn, the amount of the bill was quite as extraordinary.
Never was there such a realieation of the *' large reckoning in a
little room."
A BEOAD JOKE.
•* Well, I must say," murmured the Schoolmistress, as the
coach rumbled off towards home, " I do wish we had reached
Gotha, that I might have got my shades of wool."
" Humph ! " grunted the Rev T. C, still sore from the
recent disbursement. " They went out for wool, and thev re-
turned shorn."
110 THE TOWER OF LAHNECK.
" We went abroad for pleasure," grumbled Miss Ruth, " and
have met with nothing but pain and trouble."
" And some instruction too," said Miss Crane, with even
more than her usual gravity. " For my own part I have met
with a lesson that has taught me my own unfitness for a Gover-
ness. For I cannot think that a style of education which has
made me so helpless and useless as a daughter, can be the proper
one for young females, who are hereafter to become wives and
mothers, a truth that every hour has impressed on me since I
have been a Schoolmistress Abroad."
THE TOWER OF LAHNECK.
A ROMANCE.
Amongst the many castled crags on the banks of the
Ehine, one of the most picturesque is the ruin of Lahneck,
perched on a conical rock, close to that beautiful little river
the Lahn. The Castle itself is a venerable fragment, with
one lofty tower rising far above the rest of the building — a
characteristic feature of the feudal stronghold — being in fact
the Observatory of the Robber-Baron, whence he watched,
not the motions of the heavenly bodies, but the movements
of such earthly ones as might afford him a booty, or threaten
him with an assault. And truly, Lahneck is said to have
been the residence of an order of Teutonic Knights exactly
matching in number the famous band of Thieves in the
Arabian Tale.
However, when the sun sets in la broad blaze behind the
heights of Capellen, and the fine ruin of Stokenfels on the
opposite banks of the Rhine, its last rays always linger on
the lofty tower of Lahneck. Many a time, while standing
rod in bond on one or other of the brown rocks which,
narrowing the channel of the river, form a small rapid, very
favourable to the fishermen —many a time have I watched
THE TOWER OF LAHNECK. j^^
the warm light burning beaconlike on the very summit of
that solitary tower, whilst all the river lay beneath in
deepest shadow, save the golden circles that marked where a
fish rose to the surface, or the bright coruscations made by
the screaming swallow as it sportively dipped its wing in the
dusky water, like a gay friend breaking in on the cloudy
reveries of a moody mind. And as these natural lights faded
away, the artificial ones of the village of Lahnstein began
to twinkle — the glowing windows of Duquet's hospitable
pavilion, especially, throwing across the stream a series of
dancing reflections that shone the brighter for the sombre
shadows of a massy cluster of acacias in the tavern-garden.
Then the myriads of chafers, taking to wing, filled the air
with droning — whilst the lovely fire-flies with their fairy lamps
began to flit across my homeward path, or hovered from osier
to osier, along the calm waterside. But a truce to these
ipersonal reminiscences.
It was on a fine afternoon, towards the close of May, 1830,
that two ladies began slowly to climb the winding path
which leads through a wild shrubbery to the ruined Castle of
Lahneck. They were unaccompanied by any person of the
other sex; but such rambles are less perilous for unprotected
females in that country than in our own — and they had
enjoyed several similar excursions without accident or
offence. At any rate, to judge from their leisurely steps,
and the cheerful tone of their voices, they apprehended no
more danger than might accrue to a gauze or a ribbon from
an overhanging branch or a stray bramble. The steepness
of the ascent forced them occasionally to halt to take breath,
but they stopped quite as frequently to gather the wild
flowers, and especially the sweet valley lilies — there so
abundant — to look up at the time- stained Ruin from a new
point, or to comment on the beauties of the scenery.
112 THE TOWER OF LAHNECK.
The elder of the ladies spoke in English, to which heif
companion replied in the same language, but with a foreign
accent, and occasional idioms, that belonged to another
tongue. In fact, she was a native of Germany, whereas the
other was one of those many thousands of British travellers
whom the long peace, the steamboat, and the poetry of
Byron had tempted to visit the "blue and arrowy" river.
Both were young, handsome, and accomplished; but the
Fraulein Von B. was unmarried ; whilst Mrs. was a
wife and a mother, and with her husband and her two
children had occupied for some weeks a temporary home
within the walls of Coblenz. It was in this city that a
friendship had been formed between the German Girl and
.he fair Islander — the gentle pair who were now treading so
ceely and fearlessly imder the walls of a castle where
vomanly beauty might formerly have ventured as safely **''
the doe near the den of the lion. But those days are
happily gone by — the dominion of Brute Force is over — and
the Wild Baron who doomed his victims to the treacherous
abyss, has dropped into an Oubliette as dark and as deep as
his own.
At last the two ladies gained the summit of the mountain,
and for some minutes stood still and silent, as if entranced
by the beauty of the scene before them. There are eleva-
tions at which the mind loses breath as well as the body — •
and pants too thickly with thought upon thought to find
ready utterance. This was especially the case with the
Englishwoman, whose cheek flushed, while her eyes glistened
with tears ; for the soul is touched by beauty as well as
melted by kindness, and here Nature was lavish of both — at
once charming, cheering, and refreshing her with a magni-
ficent prospect, the brightest of sunshine, and the balmiest
air. Her companion, in the meantime, was aJmost ai
THE TOWER OP LAHNECK. 113
taciturn, merely uttering the names of the places — Ober-
Lahnstein — Capellen — Stolzenfels — Nieder-Lahnstein — St
John's Church — to which she successively pointed with her
little white finger. Following its direction, the other lady
slowly turned round till her eyes rested on the Castle itself,
but she was too near to see the ruin to advantage, and her
neck ached as she strained it to look up at the lofty tower
whsch rose almost from her feet. Still she continued to gaze
upward, till her indefinite thoughts grew into a wish that
she could ascend to the top, and thence, as if suspended in
air, enjoy an uninterrupted view of the whole horizon. It
was with delight, therefore, that on turning an angle of the
wall she discovered a low open arch which admitted her to the
interior, where, after a little groping, she perceived a flight of
stone steps, winding, as far as the eye could trace, up the
massy walls.
The staircase, however, looked very dark, or rather dismal,
after the bright sunshine she had just quitted, but the
whim of the moment, the spirit of adventure and curiosity,
induced her to proceed, although her companion, who was
more phlegmatic, started several difficulties and doubts as to
the practicability of the ascent. There were, however, no
obstacles to surmount beyond the gloom, some trifling heaps
of rubbish, and the fatigue of mounting so many gigantic
steps. But this weariness was richly repaid, whenever
through an occasional loophole she caught a sample of the
bright blue sky, which, like samples in general, appeared
of a far more intense and beautiful colour than any she hsi
ever seen in the whole piece. No, never had heaven seemei.
so heavenly, or earth so lovely, or water so clear and pure,
as through those narrow apertures — never had she seen any
views so charming as those exquisite snatches of landscape,
framed by the massive masonry into little cabinet piutiu-es, of
114 THE TOWER OF LAHNECK.
a few inches square — so small, indeed that the two friends,
pressed cheek to cheek, could only behold them with one eye
apiece ! The Englishwoman knew at least a dozen of such
tableaux, to be seen through particular loopholes in certain
angles of the walls of Coblenz — but these " pictures of the
Lahneck gallery," as she termed them, transcended them all !
Nevertheless it cost her a sigh to reflect how many forlorn
captives, languishing perhaps within those very walls, had
been confined to such glimpses of the world without — nay,
whose every prospect on this side the grave had been framed
in stone. But such thoughts soon pass away from the minds
of the young, the healthy, and the happy, and the next
moment the fair moralist was challenging the echoes to join
with her in a favourite air. Now and then, indeed, the song
abruptly stopped, or the voice quavered on a wrong note, as
a fragment of mortar rattled down to the basement, or a
disturbed bat rustled from its lurking-place, or the air
bieathed through a crevice with a sound so like the human
sigh, as to revive her melancholy fancies. But these were
transient terrors, and only gave rise to peals of light-hearted
merriment, that were mocked by laughing voices from each
angle of the walls.
At last the toilsome ascent was safely accomplished, and
the two friends stood together on the top of the tower, draw-
ing a long, delicious breath of the fresh free air. For a time
they were both dazzled to blindness by the sudden change
from gloom to sunshine, as well as dizzy from the unaccus-
tomed height ; but these effects soon wore off, and the whole
splendid panorama, — variegated with mountains, valleys,
rocks, castles, chapels, spires, towns, villages, vineyards, corn-
fields, forests, and rivei-s, was revealed to the delighted sense.
As the Englishwoman had anticipated, her eye could now
travel unimpeded round the entire horizon, which it did
THE TOWER OF LAHNECK. 115
again and again and again, while her hps kept repeating all
the superlatives of admiration.
" It is mine Faderland," murmured the German girl with
a natural tone of triumph in the beauty of her native
country. " Speak — did I not well to persuade you to hero,
by little bits, and little bits, instead of a stop at Horcheim]"
" You did indeed, my dear Amanda. Such a noble pros-
pect would well repay a much longer walk."
" Look ! — see — dere is Rhense — and de Marxberg" — ^but
the finger was pointed in vain, for the eyes it would have
guided continued to look in the opposite direction across the
Lahn.
** Is it possible, from here," inquired the Englishwoman,
« to see Coblenz 1 "
Instead of answering this question, the German girl looked
up archly in the speaker s face, and then smiling and nodding
her head, said slily, " Ah, you do think of a somebody at
home ! "
"I was thinking of him indeed," replied the other, "and
regretting that he is not at this moment by my side to
enjoy ^"
She stopped short — for at that instant a tremendous peal,
as of the nearest thunder, shook the tower to its very foun*
dation. The German shrieked, and the ever ready "Ach
Gott ! " burst from her quivering lips ; but the English-
woman neither stirred nor spoke, though her cheek turned of
the hue of death. Some minds are much more apprehensive
than others, and hers was unusually quick in its conclusions,
— the thought passed from cause to consequence with the
rapidity of the voltaic spark. Ere the sound had done
rumbling, she knew the nature of the calamity as distinctly
as if an evil spirit had whispered it in her ear. Nevertheless,
an irresistible impulse, that dreadful attraction which draws
116 THE TOWER OF LAHNECiL
us ill spite of ourselves to look on what is horrible and
approach to the very verge of danger, impelled her to seek
the very sight she most feared to encounter. Her mind
indeed recoiled, but her limbs, as by a volition superior to
her own, dragged her to the brink of the abyss she had pro-
phetically painted, where the reality presented itself with a
startling resemblance to the ideal picture.
Yes, there yawned that dark chasm, unfathomable by the
human eye, a great gulf fixed — perhaps eternally fixed —
between herself and the earth, with all it contained of most
dear and precious to the heart of a wife and a mother.
Three — only the three uppermost steps of the gigantic stair-
case still remained in their place, and even these, as she
gazed at them, suddenly plunged into the dreary void ; and
after an interval which indicated the frightful depth they had
to plumb, reached the bottom with a crash that was followed
by a roll of hollow echoes from the subterranean vaults !
As the sound ceased, the Englishwoman turned away, with
a gasp and a visible shudder, from the horrid chasm. It was
with the utmost difficulty that she had mastered a mechanical
inclination to throw herself after the falling mass — an impulse
very commonly induced by the unexpected descent of a large
body from our own level. But what had she gained ? Per-
haps but a more lingering and horrible fate — a little more
time to break her heart in — so many more wretched hours to
lament for her lost treasures — her cheerful home — her married
felicity — her maternal joys, and to look with unavailing
yearnings towards Coblenz. But that sunny landscape had
become intolerable ; and she hastily closed her eyes and
covered her face with her hands. Alas ! she only beheld the
more vividly the household images, and dear familiar faces
that distractingly associated the happiness of the past with
the misery of the present — for out of the very sweetaosg of
THE TOWER OF LAHNECK. 117
her life came intenser bitterness, and from its brightest
phases an extremer darkness, even as the smiling valley
beneath her had changed into that of the Shadow of Death !
The Destroyer had indeed assumed almost a visible presence,
and like a poor trembling bird, conscious of the stooping
falcon, the devoted victim sank down and cowered on the
hard, cold, rugged roof of the fatal Tower !
The German girl, in the meanwhile, had thrown herself on
her knees, and with her neck at full stretch over the low
parapet, looked eagerly from east to west for succour — but
from the mill up the stream to the ferry down below, and
along the road on either side of the river, she could not
descry a living object. Yes — ^no — yes — there was one on
the mountain itself, moving among the brushwood, and even
approaching the castle ; closer he came — and closer yet, to
the very base of the Tower. But his search^ whatever it
was, tended earthwards, for he never looked up.
" Here ! — come ! — gleich ! — quick ! " and the agitated
speaker hurriedly beckoned to her companion in misfortune
— "we must make a cry both togeder, and so loud as we
can," and setting the example she raised her voice to its
utmost pitch; but the air was so rarified that the sound
seemed feeble even to herself
At any rate it did not reach the figure below — nor woidd
a far louder alarm, for that figure was little Kranz, the deaf
and dumb boy of Lahnstein, who was gathering bunches of
the valley-lillies for sale to the company at the inn. Accord
ingly, after a desultory ramble round the ruins, he descended
to the road, and slowly proceeded along the waterside towards
the ferry, where he disappeared.
*' Lieber Gott ! " exclaimed the poor girl ; " it is too far to
make one hear ! "
So saying she sprang to her feet, and with her white hand-
8
118 THE TOWER OF LaHNECK.
kerchief kept waving signals of distress, till from sheer
exhaustion her arms refused their office. But not one of
those pleasure-parties so frequent on fine summer days in
that favourite valley had visited the spot. There was a
Kirch- Weih at Neundorf, down the Rhine, and the holiday-
makers had all proceeded with their characteristic imiformity
in that direction.
" Dere is nobody at all,'* said the German, dropping her
arms and head in utter despondence, " not one to see us ! "
" And if there were," added a hollow voice, " what hxmian
help could avail us at this dreadful height ! "
The truth of this reflection was awfully apparent; but
who when hfe is at stake can resign hope, or its last tearful
contingency, though frail as a spider's thread encumbered
with dewdrops i
The German, in spite of her misgivings, resumed her
watch ; till after a long, weary, dreary hour, a solitary figure
issued from a hut a little lower down on the opposite side of
the Lahn, and stepping into a boat propelled it to the middle
of the stream. It was one of the poor fishermen who rented
the water, and rowing directly to the rapid, he made a cast
or two with his net, immediately within the reflection of the
Castle. But he was too distant to hear the cry that appealed
to him, and too much absorbed in the success or failure of
his peculiar lottery to look aloft. Like the deaf and dumb
boy, he passed on, but in the opposite direction, and gradually
" It will never be seen ! " ejaculated the German girl^
again dropping her arm — a. doubtful prophecy, however, for
immediately afterwards the Rhenish steamboat crossed the
mouth of the lesser river, and probably more than one tele-
scope was pointed to the romantic ruin of Lahneck. But the
distance was great, and even had it been less, the waving oi
THE TOWER OF LAHNECK. 119
a white handkerchief would have been taken for a merry or a
friendly salute.
In the roeantime the steamboat passed out of sight behind
the high ground ; but the long streamer of smoke was still
visible, hke a day-meteor, swiftly flying along, and in a
direction that made the Englishwoman stretch out her arms
after the fleeting vapour as if it had been a thing sensible to
human supplication.
" It is gone also ! " exclaimed her partner in misery.
" And in a short while my liebe mutter will see it come to
Coblenz ! "
The Englishwoman groaned.
" It is my blame," continued the other, in an agony of
self-reproach ; "it was my blame to come so wide — not one
can tell where. Nobody shall seek at Lahneck — dey will
think we are dropped into de Rhine. Yes — we must die
both ! We must die of famisbment — and de cornfields, and
de vines is all round one ! "
And thus hour passed after hour, still watching promises
that budded and blossomed and withered — and still flowered
again and again without fruition — till the shades of evening
began to fall, and the prospect became in every sense darker
and darker.
Barge after barge had floated down the river, but the
steersman had been intent on keeping his craft in the middle
of the current in the most difl&cult part of his navigation —
the miller had passed along the road at the base of the
mountain, but his thoughts were fixed on the home within
his view — the female peasant drove her eows from the pasture
— the truant children returned to the village, and the fisher-
man drifting down the stream, again landed, and after hang-
ing his nets up to dry between the trees on the opposite
meadows re-entered his hut. But none saw the signal, none
120 THE TOWER OF LAHNECK.
heard the cry, or if they did it was supposed to be the shrill
squeak of the bat. There was even company at the inn, for
the windows of Duquet's pavilion began to sparkle, but the
enjoyments of the party had stopped short of the romantic
and the picturesque — they were quaffing Rhein wein, and
eating thick sour cream, sweetened with sugar, and flavoured
with cinnamon.
" It is hard, mine friend," sobbed the German, " not one
thinks but for themselves."
" It is unjust," might have retorted the wife and mother,
" for I think of my husband and children, and they think of
me."
Why else did her sobs so disturb the tranquil air, or where-
fore did she paint her beloved Edward and her two fair-
haired boys with their faces so distorted by grief? The
present and the future — for time is nothing in such visions
— were almost simultaneously before her, and the happy
home of one moment was transfigured at the next instant
into the house of mourning. The contrast was agDnizing
but unspeakable — one of those stupendous woes which
stupify the soul, as when the body is not pierced with a
single wound, but mortally crushed. She was not merely
stricken but stunned.
" Mein Gott ! " exclaimed the German girl, after a vain
experiment on the passiveness of her companion, "why do
you not speak someting — what shall we do 1 "
. "Nothing," answered a shuddering whisper, "except —
die!"
A long pause ensued, during which the German girl
more than once approached and looked down the pitch black
orifice which had opened to the fallen stairs. Perhaps it
looked less gloomy than by daylight in the full blaze of the
sun, — perhaps she had read and adopted a melancholy,
THE TOWER 01 LAHNECK. 121
morbid tone of feeling too common tt) .German works, when
they treat of a voluntary death, or perhaps the Diabolical
Prompter was himself at hand with the desperate suggestion,
fatal alike to body and to soul, — but the wretched creature
,3rew nearer and nearer to the dangerous verge.
Her purpose, however, was checked. Although the air
was perfectly still, she heard a sudden rustle amongst the ivy
on that side of the Tower, which, even while it made her
start, had whispered a new hope in ner ear. Was it possible
that her signals had been observed — that her cries had been
heard? And again the sound was audible, followed by a
loud harsh cry, and a large Owl, like a bird of ill omen, as it
is, fluttered slowly over the heads of the devoted pair, and
again it shrieked and flapped round them, as if to involve
vhem in a magical circle, and then with a third and shriller
screech sailed away Hke an Evil Spirit, in the direction of the
Black Forest.
Nor was that boding fowl without its sinister influence on
human destiny. The disappointment it caused to the victim
was mortal. It was the drop that overbrimmed her cup.
" No," she muttered, " dere is no more hopes. For myself
I will not starve up here — I know my best friend, and will
cast my troubles on the bosom of my mother earth."
Absorbed in her own grief tho Englishwoman did not at
first comprehend the import of these words ; but all at once
their meaning dawned on her with a dreadful significance.
It was, however, too late. Her eye caught a glimpse of the
skirt of a garment, her ear detected a momentary flutter—
and she was alone on that terrible Tower !
And did she too perish ? Alas ! ask the peasants and the
fishermen, who daily worked for their bread in that valley or
122 EPIGRAM.
on its river ; ask the fenymen, who hourly passed to and fro,
and the bargeman, who made the stream his thoroughfare,
and they will tell you, one and all, that they heard nothing
and saw nothing, for labour looks downward and forward, and
round about, but not upward. Nay, ask the angler himself,
who withdrew his fly from the circling eddies of the rapids to
look at the last beams of sunshine glowing on the lofty Ruin
— and he answers that he never saw living creature on its
summit, except once, when the Crow and the Raven were
hovering about the building, and a screaming Eagle,
although it had no nest there, was perched on the Tower of
Lahneck.
Note. — This story — (which some hardy critic affirmed was "an old
Legend of the Khine, to be found in any Guide-book,") — was suggested
by the recital of two ladies,* who attempted to ascend to the top of the
Tower of Lahneck, but were deterred by the shaking of the stone stairs.
They both consider, to this day, that they narrowly escaped a fate akin
to the catastrophe of poor Amy Robsart ; and have visible shudderings
when they hear, or read, of old Rhenish castles and oubliettes.
* My mother and a Miss B., mentioned in the " Memorials.'*
EPIGRAM
ON THE ABT-UNIONS.
That Picture-Raffles will conduce to nourish
Design, or cause good colouring to flourish,
Admits of logic-chopping and wise sawing,
But surely Lotteries encourage Drawing I
TO MY DAUGHTER. 123
TO MY DAUGHTER.
ON HEB BIRTH-DAY.
Dear Fanny! nine long years ago,
While yet the morning sun was low,
And rosy with the Eastern glow
The landscape smiled —
"Whilst lowed the newly-waken'd herds —
Sweet as the early song of birds,
I heard those first, delightful words,
"Thou hast a Child!"
Along with that uprising dew
Tears ghsten'd in my eyes, though few,
To hail a dawning quite as new
To me, as Time :
It was not sorrow — not annoy —
But like a happy maid, though coy.
With grief-like welcome even Joy
Forestalls its prime.
So mayst thou live, dear ! many years,
In all the bliss that life endears.
Not without smiles, nor yet from tears
Too strictly kept :
When first thy infant littleness
I folded in my fond caress,
The greatest proof of happiness
Was this-r-I wept.
V2i
A SEA-TOTALLER.
HOWQUA
Is of three different sorts ; although they are not generally
particularised by the tea-dealers or brokers : viz.,
SoMEHow-QUA, which includes Hyson, Souchong, Bohea, &c.,
as well as the tea advertised by Captain Pidding :
Anyhow-qua — composed of sloe, ash, willow, second-hand
tea-leaves, or any other vegetable rubbish, and
NoHow-QUA, which falls to the lot of those who cannot get
any tea at all.
i'UJs CHIAKSE JUiiii,t!.jL*.
A SEA-TOTALLER.
" I'll tell you what it is," said the President of the Social
Glassites, at the same time mixing a fresh tumbler of grog —
rather stiffer than the last — for the subject of Temperance and
Teetotalism had turned up, and he could not discuss it with dry
lips — " I'll tell you what it is : Temperance is all very well,
A SEA-TOTALLER.
125
provided it's indulged in with moderation, and without injury to
your health or business ; but when it sets a man spouting, and
swaggering, and flag-carrying and tea-gardening, and dressing
himself up like a play-actor, why he might as well have his mind
unsobered with anything else.*'
SAILING ON TEMPEEANCE PlilN CIl'LES.
*• That's very true," said the Vice-president, — a gentleman
with a remarkably red nose.
"I have seen many Teetotal Processions," continued the
President, " and I don't hesitate to say that every man and
woman amongst them was more or less intoxicated — "
*' Eh, what ? " asked a member, hastily removing his cigar.
" Yes, intoxicated, I say, with pride and vanity — what with
the bands of music, and the banners, and the ribbons, and
maybe one of their top-sawyers, with his white wand, swaggering
along at their head, and looking quite convinced that because he
hasn't made a Beast of himself he must be a Beauty. Instead
of which, to my mind, there can't be a more pitiful sight than a
126
A SBA-TOTALLBR.
great hulking fellow all covered with medals and orders, like a
Lord Nelson, for only taking care of his own precious health,
and trying to live long in the land ; and particularly if he's got
a short neck and a full habit. Why, the Eoyal Humane Society
might just as well make a procession of all the people who don't
drink water to excess, instead of those objects that do, and with
ribbons and medals round their necks, for being their own
life-preservers 1 '*
" That's very true," said the Vice. ** I've seen a Master
Grand of a Teetotaller with as many ornaments about him as a
foreign prince ! "
" Why, I once stopped my own grog," continued the Presi-
dent, for twelve months together, of my own accord, because I
was a little wheezy ; and yet never stuck even a snip of ribbon
at my button-hole. But that's modest merit, — whereas a regular
Temperance fellow would have put on a broad blue sash, as if
he was a Knight of the Bath, and had drunk the bath all up in-
stead of swimming in it."
" That's very true," repeated the Vice.
" Temperance is, no doubt, a virtue," said the President ; '* but
it is not the only one ; though, to judge by some of their Tracts
and Speeches, you
would think that be-
cause a Totaller drinks
Adam's ale he is as
innocent as our first
Parents in Paradise,
which, begging their
pardons, is altogether
jm error, and no mis-
take. Sin and strong
BOUGH BIDING. dflnk 816 iiot boHi re-
lations ; though they often come together. The first murderer
A SEA-TOTALLER. 127
in the world was a water-drinker, and when he killed his poor
brother was as sober as a judge."
" If that aren't true," exclaimed the red-nosed Vice, " I'll be
pounded ! "
" It was interaperance, however," said the President ; *' be-
cause why ? It was indulging in ardent passions and fermented
feelings, agin which, in my humble opinion, we ought to take
Long and Short Pledges, as much as agin spirituous liquors.
Not to mention the strong things that come out of people's
mouths, and are quite as deleterious as any that go into them —
for example, profane swearing, and lying, and slandering, and
foul language, and which, not to name names, are dealt in by
parties who would not even look at Pine Old Pineapple Eum, or
Cream of the Valley."
" That's correct, anyhow," said the Vice ; and he replenished
his tumbler.
" To be sure. Temperance has done wonders in Ireland," con-
tinued the President, " and to my mind, little short of a miracle
— namely, repealing the Old Union of Whisky-and- Water, —
and which would have seemed a much tougher job than
O'Connell's. However, Father Mathew has accomplished it,
and instead of a Parliament in College Green, we are likely to
see a far stranger sight, and that's a whole County of Cork with-
out a bottle to it."
"Humph !" ejaculated the Vice, and took a liberal draught
of his mixture. "But they'll take to party spirit in loo."
"Like enough," said the President; "for when once we get
accustomed to strong stimuluses, we find it hard to go without
'em ; and they do say, that many of those parties who have left
off liquor, have taken to opium. But the greatest danger with
new converts and proselytes, is of their rushing into another
extreme — and that reminds me of a story to the point."
" Now then," said the member with the cigar.
128
A SEA-TOTALLER.
**It was last September," said
the President, " when 1 owned The
Rose in June, and a sweet pretty
craft she was. I had bought a lot
of lines and a trawling net along
with her ; and besides cruising fori
pleasure, we used now and then toi
cast about for a bit of fresh fish for;
my missus, or by way of present to
a friend. Well, one day, just be-
low Gravesend, we had fished all
the morning, but without any luck
at all, except one poor little skate
that lay on the deck making faces
at us like a dying Christian, first
pouting out its lips, and then draw-
ing them in again with a long suck
of its breath, for all the world like a
fellow creature with a stitch in the side, or a spasm in his chest.
The next haul we got nothing but lots of mud, a bit of sea-
weed, a lump of coal, a rotten bung, and an old shoe. How-
ever, the third time the net felt heavy enough for a porpus, and
sure enough on hauling it up to the top of the water, we saw
some very large fish a-flopping about in it, quite as big as a
grampus, om} cothing like the species. Well, we pulled and
hauled. Jack and I — (you remember Jack) — till we got the
creature aboard over the bulwarks, and there it rolled on the
deck, such a Sea Monster as never was seen afore nor since.
It was full six feet long, with a round head like a man's, b ut
bald, — though it had a beard and whiskers of sandy-coloured
hair. We could not see the face, by reason of the creature al-
ways hiding it with its paws, which were like a man's hands, only
with a sort of web between the fingers. All the upper part
A SEA.TOTALLER. 129
of the body was of a flesh or salmon coloiu* down to the
middle, where the skin became first bluer, and then greener and
greener, as well as more rough and scaly, till the body forked
off into two distinct fishes' tails.
** * I'll tell you what, master,' says Jack Rogers, after taking
a good look at the monster, and poking it about a bit with a
handspike, * I'm blest if it isn't a Cock Mermaid I
" * No doubt of it,' said the Vice.
*' ' To tell the truth,' said the President, * I had the same
thought in my head, but was afraid to name it, because such
animals have been reckoned fabulous. However, there it was
on the deck, as large as life, and a certain fortune to the owner,
as an article for exhibition ; and I won't deny that I began in
my own mind a rough guess at the sum total of all the inhabit-
ants of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, at a shilling
a-head. Jack, too, seemed in a brown study, maybe settling what
share, in right and justice, he ought to have of the profits, or
perhaps wondering, and puzzled to make head or tail of the
question, whether the creature was properly a beast or a fish.
As for myself, I felt a little flustered, as you may suppose, not
only by the strangeness of the phenomenon, but at the prospect
of such a prodigious fortune. In point of fact I was all in a
tremor, like a steam- vessel with high-pressure engines, and ac-
cordingly sent Jack down below for my brandy-bottle out of the
locker, just to steady my nerves. * Here's to us both,' says I,
nodding and winking at Jack, ' and to the Cock Mermaid into
the bargain; for unless I'm mistaken, it'll prove a gold fish in
the end.' I was rather premature : for the noise of pulling out
the cork made the creature look round, which was the first time
we had caught a fair look at its face. When lo and behold !
Jack no sooner clapped his eyes on the features, than he sings
out again:
" ' I'm blest,' says he— for I didn't allow swearing — * I'm
blest if it isn't Bob Buuce ! '
180
A SEA-TOTALLER.
** Well, the Merman gave a nod, as much as to say, * You're
right, I*m him ; ' and then scrambling up into a sitting posture,
LA BELLK TUB.
with his back agin the companion, made a sign to me for the
bottle. So I handed him the flask, which he took a sup of through
the net ; but the liquor went against his fishified nature, and
pulling a very wry face, he spirted it all out again, and gave
me back the bottle. To my mind that settled the matter
about his being a rational creature. It was moral impossible,
though he might have an outside resemblance, like the apes and
monkeys, to the human species. But I was premature again ;
for, after rolling about a bit, he took me all aback with an odd
sort of a voice coming out of his mouth, which was as round
as the hole of a flute.
" * Here,' says he, * lend us a hand to get out of the net.*
" * It's Bob Bunce, sure enough 1 ' cries Jack. • That's his
voice, I'll take my davit, howsomever he's got transmogrified.'
A SEA.TOTALLJEa,
ISl
*.MD HOW,' SAYS HK, ' IF TOU'bB A COCK MKRMAID, AS SIASTBg THIITKI, TOV
MAY HOLD XOCB XONftUB.' "
132
A SEA.TOTALLER.
"And with that he stooped down and helped the creature,
whatever it was, out of the net, and then popped him up on hia
two tails against the mast.
** ' And now,' says he, 'if you're a Cock Mermaid, as master
thinks, you may hold your tongue; but if so be you're Bob
Bunce, as I suspect' (and if Jack always used the solemn
tone he did at that minute he'd make a firstrate popular
preacher,) * why then don't renounce your godfathers and god-
mothers in your baptism, and your Christian religion, but say
80 at once like a man.'
" ' I ham Bob Bunce, then,' said the creature, with a very
strong emphasis, * or rayther I were' and along with the last
word two great tears as big as swanshot sprang out of his pale
PUBLIC 8PIEIT.
blue eyes, and rolled down his flabby cheeks. * Yes, I were
Bob Bunce, and known by sight to every man, woman, and
child in Deptford.'
A SEA-TOTALLER. 133
" * That's true anyhow,' said Jack ; ' 'cause why ? — you were
«o often a reeling drunk about the streets.'
" * There's no denying it,' said Bob, ' and plenty of contrary
evidence if I did. But it warn't the strong liquors that ruined
rae, but quite the reverse ; for you see, Sir,' addressing me, * one
day after a drunken fit a she-teetotaller got hold of me while I
was sick and sorry, and prevailed on me to join a Temperance
Club, and take the long pledge, which I did.'
" * And now,' says she, ' you're nabb'd, and after that every
drop of liquor you take will flare up agin you hereafter like
blazes, and make a snap-dragon on you in the tother world.'
"*Well, being low and narvous, that scarified me at once
into water-drinking, and I was fool enough to think, that the
more water I drunk the more sober I should be ; whereby at
last I reached the pint of taking above two or three gallons a-
day. Por all that I got no stronger or better, as the speeches
and tracks had promised, but rather weaker and weaker ; and
instead of a fair complexion, began turning blueish and greenish,
besides my body being covered, as they say, with goose-skin,
and my legs of a scaly character. As for walking, I staggered
worse than ever, through gettin' knockneed and splay-footed,
which was the beginnin' of their transmogrification. The long
and the short is. Sir, though I didn't know it, that along o' so
much water, I'd been drinkin' myself amphibbus.'
*' ' Well, that sounds like philosophy,' says Jack : ' but then,
Bob, how come ye into the river ? '
*' * Ah ! ' says Bob, shaking his head, * that's the sinful part
o' the story. But between mortification, and the fear of being
showed up for a mermaid, I resolved to put an end to myself,
and so crawled down arter dark to Cole's wharf and flung my-
self into the river. But instead of drownding as I expected,
the water that came into my mouth seemed to go out agin at
my ears, and I found I could swim about and rise to the top
y
134
A SEA-TOTALLER.
or dive to the bottom as nat'ral as a fish. That gave me time
to repent and reflect, and the consequence is, I've lived a wet
life for above a week, and am almost reconciled to the same —
only I don't take quite kindly yet to the raw dabs and flounders,
and so was making my way down to the oyster-beds in the Med-
way, when your net come and ketch'd me up.'
" ' But you wouldn't spend your days in the ocean, would
you, Bob ? ' asked Jack, in a sort of coaxing tone that was
meant to be very agreeable. * As to hoysters, you may have 'em
on dry land, real natives, and ready opened for you, and what's
more, pepper'd and vinegar'd, which you can't. in the Medway.
And in respect to walking, why, me and master would engage
to purvide you with a carriage.'
" ' A wan, you mean,' said the other, with a piercing look at
Jack, and then another at me, that made me wince. * A wan —
and Bartlemy Eair— but I'U die first ! '
" And rising upright on his double tail, before we could lay
hands on him, he threw a somerset over the bulwark, and dis-
appeared.
A. DISOHABGB PHOM THE BENCH.
" And was that the last of him ? " said the Vice.
*' It was, gentlemen," replied the President. " For Bunce,
A SEA-TOTALLER. 135
or Bounce, or Tee-totaller, or Sea-totaller, we never set eyes on
him again."
" Well, that's a warning anyhow," said the Vice, again help-
ing himself from the bottle. " I've heard political people talk
of swamping the Constitution, but never knew before that it was
done with pump water."
" Nor I neither," said the member with the cigar.
" Why, you see," said the President, " Temperance is a very
praiseworthy object to a proper extent; but a thing may be
carried too far, as Sinbad said to the Old Man of the Sea. No
doubt water-drinking is very wholesome while it's indulged in
with moderation, but when you come to take it to excess, why
you may equally make a beast of yourself, like poor Bob Bunce,
and be unable to Iceep your legs."
ON A CERTAIN LOCALITY.
Of public changes, good or ill,
I seldom lead the mooters.
But really Constitution Hill
Should change its name with Shooter's !
136 THE FORGE.
A SKETCH ON THE HOAD.
" All have their exits and their entrances.*'
It is a treat to see Prudery get into an omnibus. Of course
she rejects the hand that is held out to her by male Civility.
It might give her a squeeze. Neither does she take the first
vacant place ; but looks out for a seat, if possible, between an
innocent little girl and an old woman. In the meantime the
omnibus moves on. Prudery totters — makes a snatch at
Civility's nose — or his neck — or anywhere — ^and missing her
hold rebounds to the other side of the vehicle, and plumps down
in a strange gentleman's lap. True modesty would have
escaped all these indecorums.
THE FORGE.
A EOMANCE OF THE IRON AGE.
"Who's here, beside foul weather?" — Kino Lear.
*' Mine enemy's dog, though he had bit me,
Should have stood that night against my fire." — COBDELIA.
PART I.
Like a dead man gone to his shroud,
The sun has sunk in a coppery cloud,
And the wind is rising squally and loud
With many a stormy token, —
Playing a wild funereal air,
Through the branches bleak, bereaved, and bare,
To the dead leaves dancing here and there —
In short, if the truth were spoken,
It's an ugly night for anywhere,
But an awful one for the Brocken 1
THE FORGE. 137
For oh ! to stop
On that mountain top,
After the dews of evening drop,
Is always a dreary frolic —
Then what must it be when nature groans,
And the very mountain murmurs and moaaa
As if it writhed with the cholic —
With other strange supernatural tones,
From wood, and water, and echoing stones,
Not to forget unburied bones —
In a region so diabolic 1
A place where he whom we call old Scratch,
By help of his Witches — a precious batch —
Gives midnight concerts and sermons,
In a Pulpit and Orchestra built to match,
A plot right worthy of him to hatch.
And well adapted, he knows, to catch
The musical, mystical Germans !
However it's quite
As wild a night
As ever was known on that sinister height
Since the Demon-Dance was morriced —
The earth is dark, and the sky is scowling.
And the blast through the pines is howling and growling
As if a thousand wolves were prowling
About in the old Black Forest !
Madly, sadly, the Tempest raves
Through the narrow gullies and hollow caves.
And bursts on the rocks in windy waves,
138 THE FORGE.
Like the billows that roar
On a gusty shore
Mourning over the mariners' graves —
Nay, more like a frantic lamentation
From a howling set
Of demons met
To wake a dead relation.
Badly, madly, the vapours fly
Over the dark distracted sky.
At a pace that no pen can paint !
Black and vague like the shadows of dreams.
Scudding over the moon that seems,
Shorn of half her usual beams,
As pale as if she would. faint !
The lightning flashes.
The thunder crashes,
The trees encounter with horrible clashes.
While rolling up from marish and bog.
Bank and rich.
As from Stygian ditch.
Rises a foul sulphureous fog,
Hinting that Satan himself is agog, —
But leaving at once this heroical pitch.
The night is a very bad night in whicb
You wouldn't turn out a dog.
Yet ONE there is abroad in the storm,
And whenever by chance
The moon gets a glance.
She spies the Traveller's lonely form,
Walking, leaping, striding along,
As none can do but the super-strong ;
THE FORGE. 139
And flapping his arms to keep him warm,
For the breeze from the North is a regular starver,
And to tell the truth,
More keen, in sooth.
And cutting than any German carver 1
However, no time it is to lag,
And on he scrambles from crag to crag.
Like one determined never to flag —
Now weathers a block
Of jutting rock,
With hardly room for a toe to wag ;
But holding on by a timber snag.
That looks like the arm of a friendly hag ;
Then stooping under a drooping bough.
Or leaping over some horrid chasm,
Enough to give any heart a spasm !
And sinking down a precipice now,
Keeping his feet the Deuce knows how,
In spots whence all creatures would keep aloof,^
Except the Goat, with his cloven hoof,
Who clings to the shallowest ledge as if
He grew like the weed on the face of the cliflf I
So down, still down, the Traveller goes,
Safe as the Chamois amid his snows,
Though fiercer than ever the hurricane blows,
And round him eddy, with whirl and whizz,
Tornadoes of hail, and sleet, and rain.
Enough to bewilder a weaker brain.
Or blanch any other visage than his,
Which spite of lightning, thunder, and hail.
The blinding sleet and the freezing gale.
liO THE FORGE.
And the horrid abyss,
If his foot should miss,
Instead of tending at all to pale,
Like cheeks that feel the chill of affrights-
Remains — the very reverse of white !
His heart is granite — ^his iron nerve
Feels no convulsive twitches ;
And as to his foot, it does not swervo,
Tho' the Screech-Owls are flitting about him that serve
For parrots to Brocken Witches !
Nay, full in his very path he spies
The gleam of the Were Wolf's horrid eyes ;
But if his members quiver —
It is not for that — no, it is not for that —
Nor rat,
Nor cat,
As black as your hat,
Nor the snake that hiss'd, nor the toad thf*t spat,
Nor glimmering candles of dead men*8 fat,
Nor even the flap of the Vampire Bat,
No anserine skin would rise thereat,
It*s the cold that makes Him shiver I
So down, still down, through gully and glen,
Never trodden by foot of men.
Past the Eagle's nest, and the She- Wolf's den.
Never caring a jot how steep
Or how narrow the track he has to keep,
Or how wide and deep
An abyss to leap,
THE FORGE. 141
Or what may fly, or walk, or creep,
Down he hurries through darkness and storm,
Flapping his arms to keep him warm —
Till threading many a pass abhorrent,
At last he reaches the mountain gorge,
And takes a path along by a torrent —
The very identical path, by St. George !
Down which young Fridolin went to the Forge,
With a message meant for his own death-warrant !
Young Fridolin ; young Fridolin !
So free from sauce, and sloth, and sin,
The best of pages
Whatever their ages,
Since first that singular fashion came in —
Not he like those modern and idle young gluttons
With little jackets, so smart and spruce.
Of Lincoln green, sky-blue, or puce —
A little gold lace you may introduce-
Very showy, but as for use.
Not worth so many buttons !
Young Fridolin ; young Fridolin I
Of his duty so true a fulfiller —
But here we need no farther go
For whoever desires the Tale to know,
May read it aH in Schiller.
Faster now the Traveller speeds,
Whither his guiding beacon leads,
For by yonder glare
In the murky air.
142 THE FORGE.
He knows that the Eisen Hutte is there !
With its sooty Cyclops, savage and grim,
Hosts, a guest had better forbear,
Whose thoughts are set upon dainty fare —
But stiff with cold in every limb.
The Furnace Fire is the bait for Him I
Faster and faster still he goes.
Whilst redder and redder the welkin glows,
And the lowest clouds that scud in the sky
Get crimson fringes in flitting by.
Till lo ! amid the lurid light,
The darkest object intensely dark,
Just where the bright is intensely bright,
The Forge, the Forge itself is in sight.
Like the pitch-black hull of a burning bark.
With volleying smoke, and many a spai'k,
Vomiting fire, red, yellow, and white !
Restless, quivering tongues of flame !
Heavenward striving still to go.
While others, reversed in the stream below.
Seem seeking a place we will not name,
* But well that Traveller knows the same,
Who stops and stands,
So rubbing his hands.
And snuffing the rare
Perfumes in the air.
For old familiar odours are there,
And then direct by the shortest cut,
Like Alpine Marmot, whom neither rut>
Rivers, rocks, nor thickets rebut.
Makes his way to the blazing Hut I
THE FORGE, US
PART 11.
Idly watching the Furnace-flames,
The men of the stithy
Are in their smithy,
Brutal monsters, with bulky frames,
Beings Humanity scarcely claims,
But hybrids rather of demon race,
Unbless'd by the holy rite of grace,
Who never had gone by Christian names^
Mark, or Matthew, Peter, or James —
Naked, foul, unshorn, unkempt,
From touch of natural shame exempt,
Things of which Delirium has dreamt — •
But wherefore dwell on these verbal sketches,
When traced with frightful truth and vigour.
Costume, attitude, face, and figure,
Eetsch has drawn the very wretches !
However, there they lounge about.
The grim, gigantic fellows.
Hardly hearing the storm without.
That makes so very dreadful a rout.
For the constant roar
From the furnace door,
And the blast of the monstrous bellowa I
Oh, what a scene
That Forge had been
For Salvacor Rosa's study !
With wall, and beam, and post, and pin,
144 THE FORGE.
And those ruffianly creatures, like Shapes of Sin,
Hair, and eyes, and rusty skin.
Illumed by a light so ruddy
The Hut, and whatever there is therein.
Looks either red-hot or bloody !
And, oh ! to hear the frequent burst
Of strange, extravagant laughter.
Harsh and hoarse.
And resounding perforce
From echoing roof and rafter !
Though curses, the worst
That ever were curst,
And threats that Cain invented the first.
Come growling the instant after !
But again the livelier peal is rung,
For the Smith, hight Salamander,
In the jargon of some Titanic tongue,
Elsewhere never said or sung.
With the voice of a Stentor in joke ha^s flung
Some cumbrous sort
Of sledge-hammer retoit
At Red Beard, the crew's commander.
Some frightful jest — who knows how wild^
Or obscene, from a monster so defiled.
And a horrible mouth, of such extent,
From flapping ear to ear it went,
And show'd such tusks whenever it smilec?^**
The very mouth to devour a child !
But fair or foul the jest gives birth
To another bellow of demon mirth.
That far outroars the weather,
As if all the Hyajnas that prowl the earth
Had clubb'd their laughs together I
And lo ! in the middle of all the din,
Not seeming to care a single pin,
For a prospect so volcanic,
A Stranger steps abruptly in, .
Of an aspect rather Satanic :
And he looks with a grin, at those CVcIops grim.
Who stare and grin again at him
With wondrous little panic.
Then up to the Furnace the Stranger goes,
Eager to thaw his ears and nose,
And warm his iVozen lingers and toes —
While each succeeding minute.
Hotter and hotter the Smithy grows.
And seems to declare,
By a fiercer glare, ^
On wall, roof, floor, and everywnero.
It knows the Devil is in it I
StiU not a word
Is utter' d or heard,
But the beetle-brow'd Foreman nods and winks.
Much as a shaggy old Lion blinks.
And makes a shift
To impart his drift
To a smoky brother, who joining the links,
Hints to a third the thing he thinks ;
And whatever it be,
They all agree
146 THE FORGE.
In smiling with faces full of glee,
As if about to enjoy High Jinks.
What sort of tricks they mean to play
By way of diversion, who can say,
Of such ferocious and barbarous folk,
Who chuckled, indeed, and never spoke
Of burning Robert the Jager to coke,
Except as a capital practical joke !
Who never thought of Mercy, or heard her.
Or any gentle emotion felt ;
But hard as the iron they had to melt.
Sported with Danger and romp'd with Murder.
Meanwhile the Stranger—
The Brocken Ranger,
Besides another and hotter post.
That renders him not averse to a roast,—
Creeping into the Furnace almost.
Has made himself as warm as a toast —
When, unsuspicious of any danger.
And least of all of any such maggot,
As treating his body like a faggot.
All at once he is seized and shoven
In pastime cruel.
Like so much fuel,
Headlong into the blazing oven !
In he goes ! with a frightful shout
Mock*d by the rugged ruffianly band.
As round the Furnace mouth they stand.
Bar. and shovel, and ladle in hand.
To hinder their Butt irom crawling out,
THE FORGE. tl7
Who making one fierce attempt, but vain
Keceives such a blow
From Ked-Beard's crow
As crashes the skull and gashes the brain,
And blind, and dizzy, and stunn'd with pain.
With merely an interjectional " oh ! "
Back he rolls in the flames aarain.
•* Ha ! Ha ! Ho ! Ho ! " That second fall
Seems the very best joke of all,
To judge by the roar
Twice as loud as before,
That fills the Hut, from the roof to the floor.
And flies a league or two out of the door,
Up the mountain and over the moor —
But scarcely the jolly echoes they wake
Have well begun
To take up the fun,
Ere the shaggy Felons have cause to quake,
And begin to feel that the deed they have done,
Instead of being a pleasant one,
Was a very great error — and no mistake.
For why 1 — in lieu
Of its former hue.
So natural, warm, and florid,
The Furnace bums of a brimstone blue.
And instead of the couleur de rose it threw,
With a cooler reflection, — justly &\\e^
Exhibits each ot the Pagan crew,
Livid, ghastly, and horrid !
148 THE FORGE.
But vainlv they ciose their guilty eyes
Against prophetic fears ;
Or with hard and homy palms devisa
To dam their enormous ears —
There are sounds in the air,
Not here or there,
Irresistible voices everywhere,
No bulwarks can ever rebut.
And to match the screams,
Tremendous gleams.
Of Horrors that like the Phantoms of dreams
They see with their eyelids shut !
For awful coveys of terrible things.
With forked tongues and venomous stings,
On hagweed, broomsticks, and leathern wings,
Are hovering round the Hut !
Shapes, that within the focus bright
Of the Forge, are like shadows and blot* ;
But farther off, in the shades of night,
Clothed with their own phosphoric lights
Are seen in the darkest spots.
Sounds ! that fill the air with noises,
Strange and indescribable voices.
From Hags, in a diabolical clatter —
Cats that spit curses, and apes that chattor
Scraps of cabalistical matter —
Owls that screech, and dogs that yeil —
Skeleton hounds that will never be fatter-
All the domestic tribes of Hell,
Shrieking for flesh to tear and tatter,
THE FORGE. 149
Bones to shatter, '
And limbs to scatter,
And who it is that must furnish the latter
Those blue-looking Men know well !
Those blue-looking men that huddle together.
For all their sturdy limbs and thews,
Their unshorn locks, like Nazarene Jews,
And buffalo beards, and hides of leather,
Huddled all in a heap together,
Like timid lamb, and ewe, and wether.
And as females say.
In a similar way,
Fit for knocking down with a feather !
In and out, in and out,
The gathering Goblins hover about,
Ev'ry minute augmenting the rout ;
For Uke a spell
The unearthly smell
That fumes from the Furnace, chimney and moutli,
Draws them in — an infernal Legion —
From East, and West, and North, and South,
Like carrion birds from ev'ry region.
Till not a yard square
Of the sickening air
But has a Demon or two for its share,
Breathing fury, woe, and despair.
Never, never was such a sight !
It beats the very Walpurgis Night,
Displayed in the story of Doctor Faust us.
For the scene to describe
Of the awful tribe,
If we were two G others, would quite exhaust ua I
JO
150 THE FORGE.
Suffice it, amid that dreary swarra.
There musters each foul repulsive form
That ever a fancy overwarm
Begot in its worst delirium ;
Besides some others of monstrous size.
Never before revealed to eyes,
Of the genus Megatherium !
Meanwhile the aemons, filthy and foul,
Gorgon, Chimera, Harpy, and Ghoul,
Are not contented to jibber and howl
As a dirge for their late commauder ;
But one of the bevy — witch or wizard,
Disguised as a monstrous flying lizard.
Springs on the grisly Salamander,
Who stoutly fights, and struggles, and kicks,
And tries the best of his wrestling tricks,
No paltry strife.
But for life, dear life,
But the ruthless talons refuse to unfix.
Till far beyond a surgical case.
With starting eyes, and black in the face,
Down he tumbles as dead as bricks !
A pretty sight for his mates to view !
Those shaggy murderers looking so blue,
And for him above all,
Red-bearded and tall.
With whom, at that veiy particular nick,
There is such an unlucky crow to pick,
As the one of iron that did the trick
In a recent bloody affair —
THE FORGE. 151
No wonder feeling a little sick,
With pulses beating uncommonly quick,
And breath he never found so thiuk,
He longs for the open air !
Three paces, or four,
And he gains the door ;
But ere he accompUshes one.
The sound of a blow comes, heavy and dull.
And clasping his fingers round his skull —
However the deed was done.
That gave him that florid
Ked gash on the forehead —
With a roll of the eyeballs perfectly horrid.
There's a tremulous quiver,
The last death-shiver,
And Red-Beard's course is run !
Halloo! Halloo!
They have done for two !
But a heavy ish job remains to do !
For yonder, sledge and shovel in hand.
Like elder Sons of Giant Despair,
A couple of Cycbps make a stand,
And fiercely hammering here and tnere.
Keep at bay the Powers of Air —
But desperation is all in vain ! —
They faint — they choke.
For the sulphurous smoke
Is poisoning heart, and lung, and brain,
They reel, they sink, they gasp, they smother,
One for a moment survives his brother,
Then rolls a corpse across the other I
152 THE FORGE.
Hulloo! HuUoo!
And Hullabaloo !
There is only one more thing to do —
And seized by beak, and talon, and claw,
Bony hand, and hairy paw.
Yea, crooked horn, and tusky jaw.
The four huge Bodies are haul'd and shoven
Each after each in the roaring oven I
That Eisen Hutte is standing still,
Go to the Hartz whenever you will,
And there it is beside a hill,
And a rapid stream that turns many a mill ;
The self-same Forge, — you'll know it at sight —
Casting upward, day and night,
Flames of red, and yellow, and white I
Ay, half a mile from the mountain gorge.
There it is, the famous Forge,
With its Furnace, — the same that blazed of yore,-
Hugely fed with fuel and ore ;
But ever since that tremendous Revel,
Whatever Iron is melted therein, —
As Travellers know who have been to Berlin —
Ts all as black as the Devil t
153
THE DEFAULTFR.
**A.V OWRE TRUE Txi-LE."
CHAPTER L
" Give him heedful note ;
For I mine eyes will rivet to his face ;
And after, we will both our judgments join .
In censure of his seeming." — Hamlet.
** "What is the matter with Mr. Pryme ? "
The speaker was a tall, dark man, with grizzled hair,
black eyes, a long nose, a wide mouth, and the commercial
feature of a pen behind his right ear. He had several times
asked himself the same question, but without any satisfactory
solution, and now addressed it to a little, sandy-haired man,
who was standing with his back to the office fire. Both
were clerks in a government office, as well as the party whose
health or deportment was involved in the inquiry.
" What is the matter with Mr. Pryme ? "
" Heaven knows," said the sandy Mr. Phipps, at the same
time liftmg up his eyebrows towards the organs of wonder,
and shrugging his shoulders.
" You have observed how nervous and fidgety he is ?
" To be sure. Look at the fireplace ; he has done nothing
all the morning but put on coals and rake them out again."
" Yes, I have been watching him and kept count," inter-
posed Mr. Trent, a junior official ; " he has poked the fire
nineteen times, besides looking five times out of the window,
and twice taking down his hat and hanging it up again."
" I got him to change me a sovereign," said the dark Mr.
Trimble, " and he first gave me nineteen, and then twenty-
154 THE DEFAULTEK.
one shillings for it. But look here at his entries," and he
pointed to an open ledger on the desk, " he has dipped pro-
miscuously into the black ink and the red ! "
The three clerks toon a look a-piece at the book, and then
a still longer look at each other. None of them spoke : but
each made a face, one pursing up his lips as if to blow an
imaginary flageolet, another frowning, as with a distracting
headache, and the third drawing down the comers of his
mouth, as if he had just taken, or was about to take, physic.
** What can it be ? " said Mr. Phipps.
" Let's ask him," suggested Mr. Trent.
"Better not," said Grimble, "you know how hot and
touchy he is. I once ventured to cut a joke on him, and he
has never thoroughly forgiven it to this day."
*' What was it about 1 " inquired the junior.
" Why he has been married above a dozen years without
having any children, and it was the usual thing with us,
when he came of a morning, to ask after the little Prymes,
— but the joke caused so many rows and quarrels, that we
have given it up."
" Where is he 1 " asked Mr. Phipps, with a glance round
the office.
** In the Secretary's private room. But hush ! here he
comes."
The three clerks hastily retreated to their several desks,
and began writing with great apparent diligence ; yet vigi-
lantly watching every movement of the nervous and fidgetji
Mr. Pryme, who entered the room with an uneven step,
looking rather flushed and excited, and vigorously rubbing
his bald head with his silk handkerchief. Perhaps he
noticed that he was observed, for he looked uneasily and
buspiciously from one clerk to the other; but each face
preserved a demure gravity, and the little, stout, bald, florid
THE DEFAULTER. 155
gentleman repaired to his own place. The " Morning Post,"
damp and still unfolded, was laying on his desk ; he took it
up, dried it at the fire, and began to read — ^but the next
minute he laid down the paper, and seizing the poker made
several plunges at the coals, as often against the bars as
between them, till the metal rang again. Then he resumed
the " Post " — but quickly relinquished it — quite unable to
fix his attention on the type — an incompetence perfectly
astounding to the other clerks, who considered reading the
newspaper as a regular and important part of the official
duties.
"By Jove," whispered Mr. Phipps to Mr. Grimble, whom
he had approached under the pretence of delivering a docu-
ment, " he cannot Post the news any more than his ledger."
Mr. Grimble acquiesced with a grave nod and a grimace ;
and Mr. Phipps returning to his desk, a silence ensued, so
profound that the scratching of the pens at work on the
paper was distinctly audible. The little bald cashier himself
had began to write, and for some minutes was occupied so
quietly that curiosity gave way to business, and the three
clerks were absorbed in their calculations, when a sudden
noise caused them to look up. Mr. Pryme had jumped from
his high stool, and was in the act of taking down his hat
from its peg. He held it for a while in his hand, as if in
deep deliberation, then suddenly clapped it on his head, but
as hastily took it off again — thrust the " Morning Post " into
the crown, and restored the beaver to its place on the wall
The next moment he encountered the eye of Phipps — a
suspicion that he was watched seemed to come across him,
and his uneasiness increased. He immediately returned to
his desk, and began to turn over the leaves of an account-
book — but with unnatural haste, and it was evident that
although his eyes were fixed on the volume, his thoughts
156 THE DEFAULTER.
were elsewhere, for by degrees he went off into a reverie,
only rousing now and then to take huge pinches of snuff.
At last, suddenly waking up, he pulled out his watch — pored
at it — held it up to his ear — replaced it in his fob, and with
a glance at his hat, began drawing on his gloves. Perhaps
he would have gone off — if Mr. Grimble had not crossed over
from his desk, and placed an open book before him, with a
request for his signature. The little, bald, florid man, with-
out removing his glove, attempted to write his name, but his
hand trembled so that he could hardly guide the pen. How-
ever, he tried to caiTy off the matter as a joke — ^but his
laugh was forced, and his voice had the quavering huskiness
of internal agitation.
" Ha ! ha ! — rather shaky— too much wine last night — eh,
Mr. Grimble r'
The latter made no reply, but as he walked off with the
book under his arm, and his back towards Mr. Pryme, he
bestowed a deliberate wink on each of his associates, and
significantly imitated with his own hand the aspen-like
motion he had just observed. The others responded with a
look of intelligence, and resumed their labours : but the tall,
dark man fell into a fit of profound abstraction, during
which he unconsciously scribbled on his blotting-paper, in at
least a score of places, the word embezzlement.
CHAPTER IL
" And do you really mean to say, Mr. Author, that so
respectable a bald man had actually appropriated the public
money 'i "
Heaven forbid, madam. My health is far too infirm, and
THE DEFAULTER.
1£7
158 THE DEFAULTER.
my modesty much too delicate to allow me to undertake,
off-hand, the work of twelve men, who sometimes are not
strong enough, the whole team, to draw a correct inference.
As yet, Mr. Pryme only labours under suspicion, and a very
hard labour it is to be sentenced to before conviction. But
permit me to ask, do you really associate baldness with
respectability 1
*' Of course, sir. All bald men are respectable."
It is indeed a very general impression — so much so, that
were I a criminal, and anxious to propitiate a Judge and
Jury at my trial, I would have my head shaved beforehand
as clean as a monk's. And yet it is a strange preposses-
sion, that we should connect guilt with a fell of hair, and
innocence with a bare sconce ! Why, madam, why should
we conceive a bald man to be less delinquent than
another ?
" I suppose, sir, because he has less for a catchpole to lay
hold of?"
Thank you, ma'am ! The best reason I have tifiard for a
prejudice in all my life !
CHAPTER III.
The little, bald, florid man, in the meantime, continued
his nervous and fidgety evolutions — worrying the fire, trying
on his hat and gloves, snufl&ng vehemently, coughing huskily,
and winking perpetually — now scurrying thi'ough folios —
then drumming what is called the Devil's tattoo on his desk,
and moreover, under pretence of mending his pens, had
slashed half-a-dozen of them to pieces — when he received a
fresh summons to the Secretary's room.
THE DEFAULTER. 159
The moment the door closed behind him, the two clerks,
Phipps and Trent, darted across to Mr. Grimble, who silently-
exhibited to them the shaky autograph of the agitated
cashier. They then adjourned to the fire, where a pause of
profound cogitation ensued : the Junior intensely surveying
his bright boots — Mr. Phipps industriously nibbling the top
of his pen — while Mr. Grimble kept assiduously breaking
the bituminous bubbles which exuded from the burning coals
with the point of the poker.
" It is very extraordinary ! " at last muttered Mr. Phipps.
'* Very," chimed in the Junior Clerk.
Mr. Grimble silently turned his back to the fire, and fixed
his gaze on the ceiling, with his mouth firmly compressed, as
if meaning to signify, " that whatever he might think, he
would say nothing " — in case of anything happening to Mr.
Pryme, he was the next in point of seniority for the vacant
place, and delicacy forbade his being the first to proclaim his
suspicions.
" You don't think he is going off, do you 1 " inquired Mr.
Phipps.
Mr. Grimble turned his gaze intently on the querist as
though he would look him through — ^hemm'd — but said
nothing.
" I mean off his head."
" Oh — I thought you meant off to America."
It was now Mr. Phipps's turn to look intently at Mr.
Grimble, whose every feature he scrutinized with the studious
interest of a Lavater.
* 'Why you surely don't mean to say "
••Ido."
* What that he has >**
'*Yes."
"Js It possible!"
160 THE DEFAULTER.
Mr. Grimble gave three distinct aiid deliberate nods, in
reply to which, Mr. Phipps whistled a long phe-e-e-e-e-ew !
All this time the Junior had been eagerly listening to the
mysterious conference, anxiously looking from one speaker to
the other, till the hidden meaning suddenly revealed itself to
his mind, and with the usual indiscretion of youth he
immediately gave it utterance.
" Why then, Grimble, old Pryme will be transported, and
you will walk into his shoes."
Mr. Grimble frowned severely, and laid one forefinger on
his lips, while with the other he pointed to the door. But
Mr. Pryme was still distant in the Secretary's private room.
" Well, I should never have thought it ! " exclaimed Mr.
Phipps. " He was so regular in his habits, and I should say
very moderate in his expenses. He was never given to
dress (the young clerk laughed at the idea), and certainly
never talked like a gay man with the other sex (the junior
laughed again). I don't think he gambled, or had any
connection with the turf? To be sure he may have
dabbled a little in the Alley — or perhaps in the Discounting
line."
To each of these interrogative speculations Mr. Grimble
responded with a negative shake of the head, or a doubtful
shrug of the shoulders, till the catalogue was exhausted, and
then, with his eyes cast upward, uttered an emphatic " God
knows ! "
" But have you any proof of it 1 " asked Mr. Phipps.
" Xone whatever — not a particle. Only what I may call
a strong — a very strong presentiment."
And as if to illustrate its strength, Mr. Grimble struck a
blow with the poker that smashed a large Staffordshire coal
into shivers.
" Then there may be nothing wrong after all ! " suggested
THE DEFAULTER.
161
the good-natured Mr. Phipps. " And really Mr. Piyme has
always seemed so respectable, so regular, and so correct in
business "
" So did Fauntleroy, and the rest of them ; " muttered
Mr. Grimble, "or they would never have been trusted.
However, it's a comfort to think that he has no children, and
that the capital punishment for such offences has been
abolished."
" I can hardly believe it I " ejaculated Mr. Phipps.
"My dear fellow,'* said the young clerk, "there is no
mistake about it. I was watching him when the messenger
came to fetch him to the Secretary, and he started and
shook as if he had expected a policeman."
Mr. Phipps said no more, but retreated to his place, and
with his elbows on his desk, and his head between his hands,
began sorrowfully to ruminate on the ruin and misery
impending over the unfortunate cashier. He could well
appreciate the nervous alarm and anxiety of the wretched
man, liable at any moment to detection, with the consequent
disgrace, and a punishment scarcely preferable to death itself
His memory reminded him that Mr. Pryme had done him
various services, while his imagination pictured his benefactor
in the most distressing situations — in the station-house — at
Bow-street — in Newgate — at the bar of the Old Bailey — in a
hulk — in a convict-ship, with the common herd of the
ruttianly and the depraved — and finally toiling in life-long
labour in a distant land. And as he dwelt on these dreadful
and dreary scenes, the kind-hearted Phipps himself became
quite unhinged : his own nerves began to quiver, whilst his
muscles sympathising with the mental excitement, prompted
him to such restless activity, that he was soon almost aa
tidgety and perturbed as the object of his commiseration.
Oh ! that the guilty man, forewarned of danger by some
162 THE DEFAULTER.
providential inspiration, might have left the office never to
return ! But the hope was futile : the door opened — the
doomed Mr. Pryme hastily entered — went to his own desk,
unbuttoned his waistcoat, and clutching his bewildered bald
head with one fevered hand, began with the other to turn
over the leaves of a journal, without perceiving that the book
was upside down.
"Was there ever," thought Phipps, "such an infatuation I
He has evidently cause for alarm, and yet he lingers about
the fatal spot."
How he yearned to give him a hint that his secret --ras
known — to say to him, " Go ! — Fly ! ere it be too J ate !
Seek some other country where you may live in freedom
and repent."
But, alas ! the eyes of Grimble and Trent were upon him,
and above all the stem figure of inexorable Duty rose up
before him, and melting the wax of Silence at the flaming
sword of Justice, imposed a seal upon his lips.
CHAPTER lY.
" Gracious Goodness ! " exclaims Female Sensibility, " and
will the dear fresh-coloured bald little gentleman be actually
transported to Botany Bay ! "
My dear Miss — a little patience. A criminal before such
a consummation has to go through more processes than a
new pin. First, as Mrs. Glasse says of her hare, he has to
be caught, then examined, committed, and true-billed —
arraigned, convicted, and sentenced. Next, he must, per-
haps, be cropped, washed, and clothed — hulked and shipped,
and finally, if he does not die of sea-sickness, or shipwreck.
THE DEFAULTER. 103
or get eaten by the natives, he may toil out his natural term
in Australia, as a stone-breaker, a cattle-keeper, or a domestic
servant !
" Dear me, how dreadful ! And for a man, perhaps, like
Mr. Pryme, of genteel habits and refined notions, accustomed
to all the luxuries of life, and every delicacy of the season.
I should really like to set on foot a little private subscription,
for providing him with the proper comforts in prison and a
becoming outfit for his voyage.'*
My dear young lady, I can appreciate your motives and do
honour to your feelings. But before you go round with your
book among relations, acquaintance, and strangers, soliciting
pounds, shillings, and pence, from people of broad, middling,
and narrow incomes, just do me the favour to look into
yonder garret, exposed to us by the magic of the Devil on
Two Sticks, and consider that respectable young woman,
engaged at past midnight, by the light of a solitary rush-
light, in making shirts at three-halfpence a piece, and shifts
for nothing. Look at her hollow eyes, her withered cheeks,
and emaciated frame, for it is a part of the infernal bargain
that she is to lose her own health and find her own needles
and thread. Reckon, if you can, the thousands of weary
stitches it will require to sew, not gussets, and seams, but
body and soul together : and perhaps, after all her hard
sewing, having to sue a shabby employer for the amount of
her pitiful earnings. Estimate, if you may, the terrible wear
and tear of head and heart, of liver and lungs. Appraise, on
oath, the value of youth wasted, spirits outworn, prospects
blasted, natural affections withered in the bud, and all bliss-
ful hopes annihilated, except those beyond the grave
" What ! by that horrid, red-faced, bald-pated, undersized
little monster V*
No Miss — but by a breach of trust on the part of a banker
164
THE DEFAULTER.
of genteel habits and refined notions ; accustomed to all the
luxuries of life, and every delicacy of the season.
** Oh, the abominable villain ! And did he ruin himself as
well as the poor lady ] "
Totally.
" And was transported 1 '*
Quite.
"What, to Botany?"
No, Miss. To the loveliest part of Sussex, where he is
condemned to live in a commodious Cottage Residence, with
pleasure-gi'ound and kitchen-garden annexed — capital shoot-
ing and fishing, and within reach of two packs of hounds 1
" Shameful ! scandalous ! — why it's no punishment at all"
No, Miss. And then to think of the hundreds and thou-
sands of emigrants — English, Scotch, and Irish — who for no
crime but poverty are compelled to leave their native country
— ^the homes and hearths of their childhood — the graves of
their kindred — the land of their fathers, and to settle — if
settling it may be called — in the houseless woods and wilder-
nesses of a foreign clime.
" Oh, shocking ! shocking ! But if I was the government
the wicked fraudulent bankers and trust-breakers should be
sent abroad too. Why shouldn't they be punished with
passage-money and grants of land as well as the poor innocent
emigrants, and be obliged to settle in foreign parts 1 "
Ah ! why, indeed. Miss— excej)t
. « Except what, sir ? "
Why, that Embezzlers and Swindlers, by all accounts, are
such very bad Settlers.
THE DEFAULTER. igg
CHAPTER V.
But Mr. Pryme ? —
That little, bald, florid, fidgety personage was still sitting
on his high stool at his desk, snuffing, coughing, winking,
and pretending to examine a topsy-turvy account-book —
sometimes, by way of variation, hashing up a new pen, or
drumming a fresh march with his fingers —
Mr. Grimble was making some private calculations, which
had reference to his future income-tax, on a slip of office
paper —
Mr. Trent was dreaming over an imaginary trial, in which
he was a witness, at the Old Bailey —
And Mr. Phipps was fretting over the predestined capture
of the infatuated Cashier — when all at once there was a noise
that startled the clerkly trio from their seats.
The nervous Mr. Pryme, by one of his involuntary motions
had upset his leaden inkstand — in trying to save the ink-
stand he knocked down his ruler — in catching at the ruler
he had let fall the great journal — and in scrambling after
the journal he had overturned his high stool. The clatter
was prodigious, and acting on a nature already overwrought
sufficed to discompose the last atom of its equanimity.
For a moment the bewildered author of the work stood,
and trembled, as if shot — then snatching his hat, and clap-
ping it " skow-wow any-how " on his head, rushed desperately
out of the office.
" Thank God ! " ejaculated Mr. Phipps, drawing a long
breath, like a swimmer after a dive.
" I say, Grimble," exclaimed the Junior Clerk — " it's a true
billl"
II
1G6 THE DEFAULTER.
But Mr. Grimble was already outside the door, and run-
uing down the stone-stairs into the hall seized on the first
office-messenger that offered.
" Here — Warren ! — quick ! — Run. after Mr. Pryme — don't
let hira out of your sight — but watch where he goes to —
and let me linow."
CHAPTER VI.
Now according to the practice of the regular drama, which
professes to represent the greater stage of the world, when-
ever a robber, murderer, or traitor has escaped, it is a rule
for the theatrical policemen, constables, runners, guards,
alguazils, sbirri, or gendarmes, to assemble and agree to act in
concert — that is to say, by singing in chorus that the villain
has bolted, and musically exhorting each other to "follow
follow^ fol-de-rol-de-rol-0 ! " without a moment's delay. An
arrangement perhaps conducive to dramatic convenience
and stage effect, but certainly quite inconsistent with the
usages of real life or the dictates of common or uncommon
sense.
Messrs. Grimble, Phipps, and Trent, however, were not
theatrical, so instead of joining in a trio or a catch, they
first held a consultation, and then proceeded in a body to
the Secretary, to whom they described the singular be-
haviour of Mr. Pryme.
" Very singular, indeed," said the Secretary. " I observed
it myself, and inquired if he was in good health. No — yes
— no. And Mrs. Pryme 1 Yes — no — ^yes. In short he did
not seem to know what he was saying."
" Or doing," put in Mr. Trent. " He threw a shovel of
coals into the uon safe.'*
TilE DEFAQLTliiR.
107
168 THE DEFAITLTEK.
"With other acts," added Mr. Grimble, "the reverse of
official."
" Tell him at once," whispered Mr. Trent.
" In short, sir," said Mr. Grimble, with a most sepulchral
tone, and the face of an undertaker, "I am sorry, deeply
sorry and concerned to say, that Mr. Pryme has suddenly
departed."
" Indeed ! But he was just the sort of man to do it."
The three clerks stared at each other, for they had all
thought exactly the reverse of the little, bald, florid, ex-
cashier.
" Short-necked, sanguine, and of a full habit, you know,"
continued the Secretary. " Poor fellow ! "
"I am Sony, deeply sony and concerned to say," re-
peated Mr. Grimble, " that I mean he has absconded."
" The devil he has ! " exclaimed the Secretary, at once
jumping to his feet, and instinctively buttoning up his
pockets — "but no — it's impossible ! " and he looked towards
Trent and Phipps for confirmation.
" It's a true bill, sir," said the first, " he has bolted sure
enough."
The other only shook his head.
" It's incredible ! " said the Secretary. " Why, he was as
steady as a quaker, and as correct as clock-work ! Mr.
Grimble, have you inspected his books ? "
"I have, sir."
"Well, sir?"
" At present, sir, all appears correct. But as the accounts
are kept in this office it is easier to embezzle than to detect
any defalcation."
" Humph ! I do not think we are worse in that respect
than other public offices ! Then, if I understand you, there
is no distinct evidence of fraud ? "
THE DEFAULTER. . 169
" None whatever, sir," replied Mr. Phipps.
" Except his absconding," added Mr. Grimble.
"Well, gentlemen, we will wait till ten o'clock to-morrow
morning, and then if Mr. Pryme does not make his appear-
ance we shall know how to act."
The three clerks made three bows and retired, severally
pleased, displeased, and indifferent at the result of their
audience,
" "We may wait for him," grumbled Mr. Grimble, ** till ten
o'clock on doomsday."
At this moment the door re-opened, and the Secretary put
out his head.
" Gentlemen, I need not recommend you to confine this
matter, for the present, to your own bosoms ! "
But the caution was in vain. Warren, the messenger, had
given a hint of the affair to a porter, who had told it to
another, and another, and another, till the secret was as well
buzzed and blown as if it had been confided to a swarm of
blue-bottles. In fact, the flight of Mr. Pryme was known
throughout the several offices, where, according to English
custom, the event became a subject for betting, and a
considerable sum was laid out at 6 to 4, and afterwards at 7
to 2, against the reappearance of the cashier.
CHAPTER VII.
"Well, Warren r'
« Well, Mr. Grimble, sir ! "
The three clerks on returning to their office, had found the
messenger at the door, and took him with them into the
room.
170 THE DEFAULTER.
" Well, I followed up Mr. Pryme, sir, and the first thing
he did were to hail a cab."
" And where did he drive to 1 "
" To nowheres at all — coz why, afore the cab could pull
round off the stand, away he goes — That's Mr. Prymc ~
walking at the rate of five miles an hour, more or less, so as
not easy to be kep up with, straight home to his own house
number 9, where instid of double knocking at the door, he
ring'd to be let in at the hairy belL"
" Very odd ! " remarked Mr. Grimble.
" Well, he staid in the house a goodish while — as long as
it might take him, Hke, to collect his porterble property and
vallybles — when all at once out he comes, like a man with
his head turned, and his hat stuck on hind part afore,
for you know he'd wore it up at the back like a curricle
one.'^
" A clerical one — go on."
** Why then, away he cuts down the street, as hard as he
can spht without busting, and me arter him, but being
stiffish with the rheumatiz, whereby I soon found I was
getting nowheres at all in the race, and ii? consekence
pulled up."
" And which way did he run ? "
" Why then, he seemed to me to be arraaking for the
bridge."
" Ah, to get on board a steamer," said Mr. Grimble.
" Or into the river," suggested Mr. Trent.
Mr Phipps groaned and wrung bis hands.
"You're right, you are, Mr. Trent, sir," said the Messenger
"with a determined nod and wink at the junior clerk. "There
was a gemman throwed himself over last Friday, and they
did say it was becos he had made away with ten thousand
Long Annuitants."
THE DEFAULTER. 171
** The poor, wretched, misguided creature ! "
"Yes he did, Mr. Phipps, sir — ^right over the senter harch
And what's wus, not leaving a rap behind him except his
widder and five small little children, and the youngest ou
em's a suckin' babby."
" Thank God ! " exclaimed Mr. Phipps, " that Mr. Prymp
is not a family man."
CHAPTER Vin
Poor Mr. Phipps !
As soon as the office was closed he walked home to his
lodgings in Westminster, but at a slower pace than usual,
and with a heavy heart, for his mind was full of sorrow and
misgiving at the too probable fate of the unfortunate
Defaulter. The figure of Mr. Pryme followed him wherever
he went : it seemed to glance over his shoulder in the
looking-glass ; and when he went to wash his hands, the pale
drowned face of the cashier shone up through the water,
instead of the pattern at the bottom of the basin.
For the first time since his clerkship he could not enjoy
that favourite meal, his tea. The black bitterness in his
thoughts overpowered the flavour of the green leaf — it
turned the milk, and neutralised the sugar on his palate.
He took but one bite out of his crumpet, and then resigned it
to the cat. Supper was out of the question. His mental
agitation, acting on the nerves of the stomach, had brought
on a sick headache, which indisposed him to any kind of
food. In the meanwhile, for the first strange time he
became intensely sensible that he was a bachelor, and uncom-
fortably conscious of his loneliness in the world. The
172 THE DEFAULTER.
company of a second person, another face, only to look at,
would have been an infinite relief to him — by diverting his
attention from the one dreadful thought and the one horrible
image that, do what he would, kept rising up before him —
sometimes like a shadow on the wall, sometimes like a
miniature figure amid the intricate veins of the marble
mantelpiece — and anon in the chiaroscuro of the fire. To
get rid of these haunting illusions, he caught up a book,
which happened to be the second volume of " Lamb's
Letters," and stumbled on the following ominous passage :
" Who that standeth, hnoweth hut he may yet fall ? Your
handSy as yet, I am most willing to believe, have never deviated
into other's property. You think it impossible that you could
ever commit so heinous an offence ; but so thought Fauntleroy
once; so have thought many besides him, who at last have
expiated as he hath done'*
The words read Hke a fatal prophecy ! He dropt the book
in horror, and falling on his knees, with tearful eyes and
uplifted hands, besought Providence, if it saw fit, to afflict
him with the utmost miseries of sickness and poverty, but to
save him — even by stroke of sudden death to save him —
from ever becoming a Defaulter !
This devotional act restored him in some degree to
tranquillity ; but with night and sleep all his horrors
returned. The face of Mr. Pryme, no longer florid, but pale
as a plaster-cast, was continually confronting him, now
staring at him through transparent waters, and now between
massive iron bars. Then the dismal portrait would abruptly
change to a full-length, which was as suddenly surrounded
by a cluster of children, boys and girls of difi'erent ages,
including one or two infants — a family he understood, by the
intuition of dreams, to be illegitimate, and that they were
solemnly consigned by the Suicide to his care and main-
THE DEFAULTER. 175
tenance. Anon the white figure vanished, and a black one
appeared in its place, a female, with the very outline, as if
cut in paper, of the widowed Mrs. Pryme, whom by some
mysterious but imperative obligation he felt that he must
espouse. The next moment this phantom was swept away
by a mighty rush of black waters, like those in Martin'g
grand picture of the Deluge, and on or beneath the dark
flood again floated the pale effigy of the Suicide entire and
apparently struggling for dear life, and sometimes shattered
he knew not how, and drifting about in passive fragments.
Then came a fresh rush of black waters, gradually shaping
itself into an immense whirlpool, with the white corpse-like
figure, but magnified to a colossal size, rapidly whirling in
the centre of the vortex, whilst obscure forms, black and
white, of children, females, savages, and alas ! not a few
gigantic Demon shapes, revolved more slowly around it.
In short, the poor fellow never passed so wretched a night
since he was bom !
CHAPTER IX.
" And did Mr. Pryme really drown himself ? "
My dear Felicia, if Female Curiosity had always access, aa
you have, to an author's sanctorum, — if she could stand or sit,
as you can, at his elbow whilst he is composing his romances
of real or unreal life, — if she might ask, as you do, at the
beginning or in the middle of the plot, what is to be its
denouement —
" Well, sir, what then ? "
Why, then. Messieurs Colbum, Saunders and Otley,
Bentley, Churton, and Newby — not forgetting A. K. Newman
— might retire for good to their country boxes at Ponders
174 THE DEFAULTER.
End, T.eatherhead, and Balham Hill, for there would be no
more novels in three volumes. Nay, the authors themselves,
serious and comic, both or neither, might retreat for ever
into the Literary Almshouses, if there are any such places —
for there would be no more articles of sixteen pages — and
" to be continued — " in the magazines. All would be over
with us, as with the Bourbons, could Female Curiosity thus
foresee, as Talleyrand said, " Le commencement de la fin ! "
" Well, but — if your story, as you say, is * an owre true
tale,' then Mr. Pryme must have been a real man — an actual
living human being — and it is positive cruelty to keep one in
suspense about his fate ! "
Dearest ! — the tale is undoubtedly true, and there was
such a personage as Mr. Pryme —
" Was ! Why, then, he did embezzle the money, and he
did throw himself off Westminster Bridge? But had he
really an illegitimate family % And did Mr. Phipps actually
marry the widow according to his dream % "
Patience ! — and you shall hear.
CHAPTER X.
The morrow came, and the Hour — ^but not the Man.
Messrs. Grimble, Phipps, and Trent were assembled round
the office-hre — poor Phipps looking as white as a sheet, for
ten o'clock had struck, and there was no Mr. Pryme.
At five minutes past ten the Secretary came in from his
own room with his golden repeater in his hand — he looked
anxiously round the office, and then in turn at -each of the
three clerks. Mr. Phipps sighed, Mr. Trent shook his head,
and Mr. Grimble shrugged up his shoulders.
THE DEFAULTER. 175
« Not here yet r*
" Nor won't be," muttered Mr. Grimble.
" What odds will you lay about it ? " whispered the giddy
Mr. Trent.
"The office-clock is rather fast," stammered out Mr.
Phipps.
" No — it is exact by my time," said the Secretary, and he
held out his watch for inspection.
" He was always punctual to a minute," observed Mr.
Grimble.
"Always. I fear, gentlemen, we must apply for a
war "
The Secretary paused, for he heard the sound of a foot
at the door, which hastily opened, and in walked Mr.
Pryme ! ! !
An apparition could scarcely have caused a greater
trepidation. The Secretary hurriedly thrust his repeater
into his breeches-pocket. Mr. Grimble retreated to his own
desk — Mr. Phipps stood stock-still, with his eyes and mouth
wide open — while Mr. Trent, though he was a loser on the
event, burst into a loud laugh.
"I am afraid, gentlemen," said Mr Pryme, looking very
foolish and stammering, " I am afraid that my — my — my
ridiculous behaviour yesterday has caused you some — some
— uneasiness— on my account."
No answer.
" The truth is — I was excessively anxious and nervous —
and agitated — very agitated indeed ! "
" Very," from Mr. Trent.
The little florid man coloured up till his round, shiny,
bald head was as scarlet as a love-apple.
" The truth is — after so many disappointments — I did not-
like to mention the thing — the affair — till it was quite
176
EPIGRAM.
certain — till it was all over — for fear — for fear of being
quizzed. The truth is — the truth is "
" Take time, Mr. Pr3ane," said the Secretary.
" Why, then, sir — the truth is — after fifteen years — I'm a
Father — a happy Father, sir — a fine chopping boy, gentle-
men — and Mrs. P. is as charming — that's to say, as well —
as can be expected I"
EPIGRAM
ON MRS. PARKES'S PAMPHLET.
Such strictures as these
Could a learned Chinese
Orlv read on some fine afternoon,
He would cry with pale lips,
•• We shall have an Eclipse,
For a Dragon has seized on the Moon !
AN EXTRAORDINARY OPERATION. 177
AN EXTRAORDINARY OPERATION.
We'll find a way to remove all that." — ^M.D.
On the 26th of December, 1842, according to the official re-
cord, a tipsy sailor, by name Peter Galpin, in tacking along the
Mile End Road, slipped his foot on a piece of orange-peel, and
fell with great violence on the pavement. He was immedi-
ately picked up by the passengers, and being unable to walk or
stand, was carried on a stretcher, by two policemen, to the
London Hospital, where, on examination, it appeared that he had
broken one of the small bones of his right leg.
BEST CUBB FOK A. COLD.
The fracture was immediately reduced; and as the patient
was not habitually a diunkard, but had only been casually
178 AN EXTRAOEDINARY OPERATION.
overtaken, the case went on very favourably, and promised a
speedy cure. In the meanwhile the poor fellow, accustomed to
an active life, would have found the time pass very tediously in
bed — especially as he could not read — but for the daily bustle
and business in the ward,— the departures of the cured or the in-
curable, by discharge or death — and the arrivals of fresh sufferers
— the visits of the surgeons and medical students, and the opera-
tions of the hospital dressers and nurses, in the most trivial of
which he took a deep interest. Averse to doctors and doctoring,
seamen in general are as ignorant as sea-horses of the usages
and practices of the sick-room, so that whatever was done of the
kind, even to the application of a poultice, was novel, and con-
sequently attractive to our tar.
Every proceeding, therefore, was carefully watched and logged
in his memory — rare materials for future yarns, when he should
be able to rejoin his ship, the Grampus, of Liverpool. Strange,
indeed, were the things he had seen done in that hospital, and
more extraordinary still were the things which he thought that he
had seen performed — amounting in his opinion to surgical
miracles !
eoIKQ AT FIT« KNOTS AN HO0B.
At last, one day arousing from a nap, and sitting up as usual
to take an obseiTation, he espied in the next bed a fat man with
AN KXTRAOEDINARY OPERATION. 179
"my KYESl THBBS'S BKSM A UOSfJiB.A.HOH I "
180
AN EXTRAORDINAEY OPERATION.
a particularly big red nose, large staring black eyes, and an un-
commonly wide mouth — in fact, very like somebody lie had seen
dancing during the carnival in the streets of an Italian port.
This corpulent bottle-nosed man was propped up in bed, with his
back bared, whilst a dresser was applying an ointment to a very
large, very red, and very raw and sore-looMng place between his
shoulders.
*' My eyes ! " exclaimed the sailor, letting himself drop back-
ward on his pillow, quite overcome with wonder — " There's been
a hopperation ! "
** What do you mean ? " asked the dresser.
"What!" ejaculated the astounded seaman, with his eyes
cast upwards, and almost protruding from his head —
"Well, what?"
" Why^ he's Punch, isn't he ? and they've cut his hump off III**
*• jack's alive I "
THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
181
PLY NOT TEtI'*
THE EARTH-QUAKEES.
•* Now's the time and now's the liour !
To be worried, toss'd and shaken,
Down — down — down, deny down-
Let us take to the road !
Amanda, let us quit the town —
Together let us range the fields —
Over the hills and far away,
Life let us cherish." — Old Ballads.
The Earth-quakers are by no means a new Sect. They have
appeared at various times in England, and particularly in 1750
when they were so numerous that, according to Horace Walpole,
"within three days, seven hundred and thirty coaches were
counted passing Hyde-park-corner, with whole parties removing
into the country ! " The same pleasant writer has preserved
several anecdotes of the persuasion, and especially records that
the female members, to guard against even a shock to their con-
stitutions, made " earthquake gowns " of a warm stuff, to sit up
in at night, in the open air ! Nor was the alarm altogether un-
founded, for the eaith, he says, actually shook twice at regular in-
182 THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
tervals, so that fearing the terrestrial ague fit would become
pcrioilical, the noble wit proposed to treat it by a course of bark.
However, there were some slight vibrations of the soil, and sup-
posing them only to have thrown down a platter from the shelf
to the floor, the Earth-quakers of 1750 have an infinite advantage
over those of 1842, when nothing has fallen to the ground but
a fiddle-de-Dee prediction.
Still, if the metropolis has not exhibited any extraordinary
physical convulsion, its inhabitants have presented an astound-
ing Moral Phenomenon. Messrs. Howell and James best know
whether they have vended or been asked for peculiarly warm
fabrics — the court milliner alone can tell if she has made up any
new fashioned robes de nuit a la bivouac, or coiffures adapted to a
nocturnal /e^e champetre. The coaches, public and private, which
have passed Hyde-park-corner have not perhaps been counted,
but it is notorious that the railway carriages have been crammed
with passengers, and the Gravesend steamers were almost
swamped by the influx of rabid Earth-quakers, all rushing, sauve
qui pent! from the most ridiculous bugbear ever licked into
shape by the vulgar tongue. Nor yet was the *' Movement
Party " composed exclusively of the lower classes ; but comprised
liundreds of respectable Londoners, who never halted till they
had gone beyond the Lord Mayor's jurisdiction, a flight unwor-
thy even of Cockneyism, which implies at least a devoted
attachment to London, and. an unsbaken confidence in the sta-
bility of St. Paul's.
The Irish, indeed, the poor blundering, bull-making Irish, had
some excuse for their panic. The prophecy came from a prophet
of their own religion, and appealed to some of their strongest
prejudices. They had perhaps even felt some precursory agita-
tion not perceptible to us English — whilst the rebuilding of the
ruined city promised a famous job for the Hibernian bricklayers
and hodmen. Nay, after all, they only exhibited a truly national
THE EAilTH.QUAKERS 183
aptitude to become April fools in March. But for British back-
bone Protestants, who have shouted " No Popery," and burnt
Guy Pauxes, to adopt a Eoman Catholic legend — for free and
independent householders wlio would not move on for a live
policeman, to move off, bag and baggage, at the dictum of a very
dead monk — who can doubt, after such a spectacle, that a Nin-
com Tax would be very productive !
As a subject for a comic picture, there could be no richer scene
for a modern Hogarth than the return of a party of Earth-
quakers to the metropolis — that very metropolis which was to
have been knocked down, as Eobins would say, in one lot — that
devoted City which Credulity had lately painted as lying pros-
trate on its Corporation !
In the meantime good luck enables me to illustrate the great
earthquake of 1842 by a few letters obtained, no matter how, or
at what expense. It is to be regretted that type can give no
imitation of the handwritings ; suffice it that one of the notes
has actually been booked by a well-known collector, as a genuine
autograph of St. Vitus.
No. I. — To Peter Crisp, Esq.
Ivy Cottage, Sevenoaks,
Dear Brother,
You are of course aware of the awful visitation with
which we are threatened.
As to P. and myself, business and duties will forbid our
leaving London, but Eobert and James will be home for the
usual fortnight at Easter, and we are naturally anxious to have
the dear boys out of the way. Perhaps you will make room for
th3m at the cottage ?
I am, dear Brother,
Yours affectionately,
Margaret Paddy.
184
THE EARTH.QUAKERS.
(The Answer.)
Dear Sister,
As regards the awful visitation, the last time the dear
boys were at the Cottage they literally turned it topsy-turvy.
As such, would rather say — keep Eobert and James in town,
and send me down the Earthquake.
Your loving brother,
Peter Crisp.
JfATUfiE'S SCHOOL.
No. II. — To Messrs. H. Staley and Co.
Camomile-street, City.
Gentlemen,
As a retired tradesman of London to rural life, but un-
remittingly devoted to the metropolis and its public buildings,
am deeply solicitous to learn, on good mercantile authority, if
the alarming statements as to a ruinous depression in the Cus-
tom-house, St. Paul's and other fabrics, stands on the undenia-
ble basis of fact. An early answer will oblige.
Your very obedient servant,
John Stokes.
Postscriptum. — My barber tells me the Monument has been
done at Lloyd's.
THE EARTH- QUAKERS. 185
(The Answer.)
Sir,
In reply to your favour of the 14th inst., I beg to
subjoin for your guidance the following quotations from a sup-
plement to this day's " Price Current.'*
"March 16. — In Earthquakes — nothing stirring. Strong
Caracca shocks partially enquired for, but no arrivals. Lisbons
ditto. A small lot of slight Chichesters in bond have been
brought forward, but obtained no offers. Houses continue firm,
and the holders are not inclined to part with them. In Columns
and Obelisks no alteration. Cathedrals as before. Steeples keep
up, and articles generally not so fiat as anticipated by the specu-
lators for a fall." — I am, Sir, for Staley and Co., your most
obedient servant,
Charles Stuckey.
No III. — To DecTOR Dodge, F.A.S., London.
Dear Doctor,
As you are an Antiquarian, and as such well ac-
quainted of course with Ancient MSS. and Monkish Chronicles,
perhaps you will be so obliging as to give me your opinion of
the Earthquake predicted by Dr. Dee and the Monk of Dree, and
whether it is mentioned in Doomsday Book, or Icon Basilisk, or
any of the old astrological works. — Yours, dear Doctor,
Anastasia Shrewsbury.
(The Answer.)
Dear Madam,
I have no recollection of such a Prediction in any of
the books you mention ; but I will make a point of looking into
the old chronicles. In the meantime it strikes me, that if any
one should have foretold an Earthquake it was Ingulphus. — I
am, dear Madam, your very humble Servant,
T. Dodge.
186
THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
No. IV. — To Mr. Benjamin IIockin.
Barbicfji,
Dear Ben,
About this here hearthquack. According to advice
I rit to Addaras who have bean to forin Parts, and partickly Sow
Amerikey, witch is a shockin country, and as to wat is dun by
the Natives in the like case, and he say they all run out of their
Howses, and fall down on their nees and beat their brests like
mad, and cross theirselves and call out to the Virgin, and all the
popish Saints. Witch in course with us Christians is out of the
question, so there we are agin at a non plush — and our minds
perfecly misrable for want of making up. One minit it's go and
the next minit stay, till betwixt town and country, I all most
wish I was nowheres at all. But how is minds to be made up
wen if you ax opinions, theres six of one and half a duzzen of
THE EAKTH-QUAKERS.
187
the tocher — for I make a pint of xtracting my customers senti-
ments pro and con, and its as ni a ti as can be. One books the
thing to cum off as shure as the Darby or Hoax, while another
suspends it til the Day of Jugment. And then he's upset by a
new commur in with the news that half St. Giles is cast down,
and the inhabbitants all Irish howling, quite dredful, and belab-
bering their own buzzums and crossing themselves all over as if
it saved the Good Friday buns from being swallered up. So there
we are agin. All dubbious. As for Pawley he wont have it
at anny price but says its clear agin Geolology and the Wolcanic
stratuses ; witch may sarve well enuff to chaff about at Mekan-
ical Innstitushuns but he wont gammon me that theres anny sich
BOCKS ABBA.D.
remmedy for a Hearth Quack as a basun of chork — no nor a
basun of gruel nayther. Well wat next. "VVhy Podmore swears
188 THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
wen he past the Duke of York he see his hiness anoddin at the
Athenium Club as if he meant to drop in pervided he didn't
pitch into the Unitid Sends. So there we are agin. For my
own share I own to sum misgivins and croakins, and says you,
not without caws wen six fammillis in our street has gone oi!
alreddy, and three more packin up in case. Besides witch, Ead-
ley, the Builder have nocked oif wurk at is new Howsis for fear
of their gettin floored, and missis Sims have declined her barril
of table beer till arter the shakin. When things cum to sich as-
pects they look serus. But supose in the end as Gubbins says
its all a errer of that Dr. Dee — wat a set of Dee'd spooneys we
shall look. So there we are agin. Then theres Books. It ap-
pear on reading the great Lisbon catstrophy were attendid by
an uncommon rush of the See on the dry Land and they do say
from Brighton as how the Breakers have reached as far as Wig-
ney's Bank. That's in faver agin of the world losing its bal-
lance. Howsomever I have twice had the shutters up, and
wonce got as fur as the hos in the Shay cart for a move off, but
was stopt by the Maid and the Prentis both axin a hole hoUiday
for the sixteenth, and in sich a stile as convinced if I didnt
grant they wood take french leaves. And then who is to mind
the house and Shop not to name two bills as cum doo on the
verry day and made payable on the premmises. Whereby if I
dont go to smash in boddy I must in bisness. So there we are
agin. In the interium theres my Wife who keeps wibratin
between hopes and fears like the pendulum of a Dutch Clock
and nQ more able to cum to a conclusion. But she inclines most
to faver the dark side of the Picter and compares our state of
Purgatory, to Dam somebody with a sword hanging over his
head by a single hair. As a nateral consekens she cant eat her
wittals and hears rumblins and has sich tremlins she don't
know the hearth's agitatings from her own. Being squeemish
besides, as is reckoned by her a very bad sign, becos why theres
THE EARTH-QUAKEKS.
189
a hearthquack in Hobbinson Criiso who describe the motion to
have made his Stomich as sick as anny one as is tost at See.
Well in course her flutters aggrivates mine till between ourselves
I'm reddy to bolt out of house and home like a Rabbit and go and
squat in the open Fields. And wats to end all this suspense.
Maybe a false alarm — and maybe hall to hatums indoors or else
runnin out into a gapin naberhood and swallerd up in a crack.
Whereby its my privit opinion we shall end by removing in time
like the Rats from a fallin house even if we have to make shift
with a bed in the garden, but witch is prefferrable to an ever-
lastin sleep in the great shake down that nater is preparing.
Thats to say if the profesy keeps its word — for if it dont we are
better in our own beds than fleaing elsewhere. And praps ketch
our deths besides. Witch reminds me our Medical Doctor
wont hear of heaithquackery and says theres no simtoms of erup-
shun. So there we are agin. But St. Paul's and all Saint
Giles's is per contra. And to be sure as Pat Hourigan says of
the Irish, ant we sevin fifths of us hod carriers and bricklairs>
and do you think as
we'd leave the same, if
we.didnt expect more
brick and building ma-
terials than we can carry
on our beds and shold-
ers. Witch sartinly
wood strongly argy to
the pint, if so be their
being Eoman Cathliks
didnt religusly bind
one whatever they be-
leave, to beleave quite
the revers. And talk-
ing of religion, if one
BLOWING UP FOB BAIK.
190
THE EARTH.QUAKERS.
listened to it like a Christian, instid of dispondin it wood praps
say trust in I'rovidence and shore up the preraisis. And witch
may be the piusest and cheapest plan arter all. But bisness
interrupts—^ —
Its the Gibbenses maid for an Am. I've pumpt out on her
that the fammily is goin to Windser for Change of air.
And Widder Stradlin is goin to Richmond for change of
Scene. Yes as much as I am goin to the Lands End
for change of a shilling. And now I think on it there were
a suspishus mark this morning on the Public House paper,
namely Edgingtons advertisement about Tents. So arter all
the open Air course of conduct — but annother cum in —
jJiTtfNXH
THE EARTH-QUAKERS. 191
Poor Mrs. Hobson, in the same perplext state as myself. To
be sure as she say a slite shock as wouldnt chip a brass or iron
man would shatter a chaney woman all to smash. But wats the
use of her cummin to me to be advised wen I carnt advize my-
self? Howsomever a word or two from your Ben wood go fur
to convict me — Only beggin you to considder that Self Preseva-
shun is the fust law of Nater, and the more binding as its a law
a man is allowed to take into his own hands. As the crisus ap-
proach, a speedy answer will releave the mind of
Your loving Brother,
James Hockin.
P.S. — Since riting the abuv the Eeverend Mister Grumpier,
as my wife sits under, have dropt in and confirmed the wust.
He say its a Judgment on the Citty and by way of Cobberrobbera-
tion has named several parties in our naberhood as is to be in-
gulped. That settles us, and in course will excuse cuttin short.
No. Y.—To Mrs. * * * *
No. 9, Street.
Madam,
It may seem stooping to take up a dropped correspon-
dence, but considering that an Earthquake ought to bury all
animosities, and enjoying the prospect of an eternal separation.
Christian charity induces to say I am agreeable on my part for
the breach between us to be repaired by a shaking of hands.
I am, Madam,
Yours, &c.,
Belinda Huefin.
(The Answer.)
Mapam,
I trust I have as much Christian charity as my neigh-
bours — praps more — and hope 1 have too much triie religion to
192 THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
believe in judicious astronomy. And if I did, have never heard
that earthquakes was remarkable for repairing breaches.
When every thing else shakes, I will shake hands, but not
before.
I am, Madam,
Yours, &c.,
Matilda Perks.
No. VI. — lor Kebecca Slack.
2, Fisher's Plaice, Knightsbridge.
Dear Becky,
If so be when you cum to Number 9, on Sunday and
Me not there don't be terrifide. Its not suicide and the Surpin-
tine but the Erthquake. John is the same as ever but Ive all-
most giv meself Wamin without the Munths notis. Last nite
there cum a ring at the Bel, a regular chevy and Noboddy there.
Cook sed a runaway Lark but I no better. And John says
Medicle Studints but I say shox. Howsumaver if the bel ring
agen of its own Hed I'm off quake or no quake to my muther
at Shrewsberry Srops. One may trust to drunken yung gentil-
men too long and misstake a rumbel at the Anti Pods for skrewin
off the nocker. No, no. So as I sed afore, another ring will
be a hint to fly, tho one thing is ockard, namely the crisus fixt
for the 16 and my quarter not up till the 20. But wats wagis ?
Their no object wen yure an Objec yurseLf for the Ospittle. To
be shure Missus may complain of a Non Plush but wat of that.
Self Preservin is the law of Nater and is wat distinguishes reson-
ing Beings from Damsuns and BuUises.
Mister Butler is of my own friteful way of thinkin and quite
retchid about the shakin up of his port wine for he all ways calls
it hisn, and dredful low, his Hart being in his celler. But
Cook choose to set her Face agin the finomunon. Don't tell me
says she of the earth quakin— its crust isnt made so lite and
THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
193
sliivvery. So weve cum to Wurds on the subjec and even been
warm but its impossible to talk with sang fraw of wat
freeses ones Blud. But wat can on& expec as Mister Butlei
s
oookI tou mat dish mastie's diwwbb."
says but Convulshuns of Nater wen we go boring into the Erths
bowils witch as all the world nose is chock full of Cumbustibuls
as ketching as Congrevs and Lucefirs. We mite have tuck
warnin by the Erentch he says witch driv irun pipes and toobs
down and drew them up agin all twisted by the stratums into
Cork skrews with the Ends red hot or meltid off. So much for
prymg into the innfurnel reguns.
As you may supose I am meloncolly enuf at sich a prospict.
But if a Erth Quake isnt to cast one down wat is? I never go to
my Filler but I pray to sleep without rockin or having tne roof
194
THE EARTH.QUAKERS.
come down atop of me like a sparrer in a brick Trap. And then
sich horribel Dreams ! Ony last nite I dremt the hole supper-
structer was on my chest and stomack
but luckily it were ony the Nite Mare
and cold Pork. And in the day time its
nothin but takin in visitters cards with
Poor Prender Congy which you know
means Prentch leave and not a bit two
erly if correct that Saint Pauls have sunk
down to its Doom. To be shure I over
heerd Master say that even Saint Paith
don't beleave in it. But she is no rule
for Me. Why shudn't we be over-
welmd as Mister Butler says as well as
the Herculeans and Pompey ? I'm shure
we deserve it for our sins and piccadillies.
Well time will show. But its our duty all the same to look
arter our savings. John thinks Mr. Green have the best chance
by assenting on the day in his Voxall baloon but gud gratious
as Mister Butler says supose the world was to annihilate itself
wile he was up in the Air. One had better trust to the most
aggitated Terry Pirmer. Wat sort of soil is most propperest for
the purpus has been debatted amung us a good deal. One
thinks mountin tops is safest and anuther considders we ort all
to be in a Mash. Lord nose. The Baker says his Ma&ter has
inshured his-self agin the erth quake and got the Globe to
kiver him.
Theres Missus bel so adew in haste.
A SPOONEY.
Mary Sawkins,
Poscrip. — Wile I was up in the drawin room master talkt
very mistenis about St. Pauls. Its all a report says he from
one of the Miner Cannons.
THE EARTH-QUAKERS. 195
No. VII.— To Sir W. Elimsy, Bart., & Co.
Lombard Street, City,
Gentlemen,
I beg respectfully to inform you that placing implicit
confidence in the calamity which will come due on the 16th
instant, I have felt it my duty to remove myself and the cash
balance to a place of security. It is my full intention, however,
to return to my post after the Earthquake ; and, I trust, instead
of condemning, you will thank me for preserving your property,
when I come back and restore it.
I am. Gentlemen,
Your very faithful and obedient.
Servant and cashier,
Samuel Boulter.
No. VIII. — To Mr. Benjamin Hockin.
(Vide No. IV.)
Dear Benjamin,
In my last I broke short through sitting off — and now
have to inform of our safe Return and the Premises all sound.
The wus luck to have let Meself be Shay carted off on a April
Fool's arrand, as bad as piggins milk. Por wat remanes in futer
but to become a laffing stock to om* nabers and being ninny-
hammered at like nails. As for the parler at the Crown that's
shut agin me for ever, for them quizzical fellers as frequents
could rost a Ox whole in the way of banterin. So were I'm to
spend my evenins except with my wife Lord nose. Theres misery
in prospect at once.
Has for servin in the shop t couldnt feel more sheapish and
sham-faced if I had bean found out in short wait and adultering.
Its no odds my customers houlding their Tungs about it — the
more they don't say the more I know wat they mean, and witch
196
THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
as silent contempt is wus than even a littel blaggard cumming
as he did just now, and axing for a small hapenny shock. Not
that I mind Sarce so much as make beleave pitty. Its the wim-
min with their confoundid simperthisin as agrivates sich as hop-
ing no cold was cotchd from the nite dues and lamenting our
trouble and expense for nothink. With all respect to the sex if
it pleas God to let one see them now and then with their jaws
tide up for the Tung Ake as well as the Tooth Ake it wood be
no harm. There's that Missis Mummery wood comfort a man
into a brain Fever. And indeed well ni soothd me into a fury
wat with condoling on our bamboozilment and her sham abram
concern for our unlucky
step. She cu-m for
pickels and its lucky
for both there was no
Pison handy. But I
ort to take an assidu-
ous draft meself for
swallering such stuff.
As praps I shall if I
don't fly to hard drink-
ing insted. Becos why,
I . know I've sunk me-
self in public opinnion
and indeed feel as if
all Lonnon was takin
a sight at me. Many ""'s am. up with mkI"
a man have took his razer and cut his stick for less.
Has for my wife her fust move on cumming Home was up
stares and into Bed where she remained quite inconsoluble, being
more hurt in her Mind she say then if she had had a leg broke
by the Herth quake. And witch I realy think could not more
have upset her. Howsumever there she lays almost off her Hed
THE EARTH-QUAKERS. 197
and from wat I know of her cute feelings and temper is likely to
never be happy agin nor to let anny one else. There's a luck out
— and no children of our own to vent on.
In course its more nor I dares to tell her of the nonimous
Letter like a Walentine with a picter of a Cock and Bui, and
that's only a four-runner. Well, its our hone falts, if thats anny
comfort which it ant, but all the hevier, like sum loves and
tee cakes, for bein home made.
The sum totle on it is Ime upset for Life. I harn't got Brass
enuf to remane in Bisness nor yet made Tin enuf to retire out on
it. Otherwis Ide take a Wilier in Stanter and keap dux. My
ony comfit is I arnt a citty Maggy strut and obleegd to sit in Gild
all, arter bein throwd into sich a botomless panikin. How his
Washup Mister Bowlbee can sit in Publick I don't know for he
was one of the veny fust to cut away. Ketch me says he
astayin in Crippelgit. 1 know it's my ward but it won't ward
off a shock.
TOSSIK-Q— " WOMAW 1 '
So much for Hearth Quacks. The end will be I shall turn to
a Universal Septic and then I supose watever I don't beleave
will come to pass. Indeed I am almost of the same mind
13
198 THE EARTH-QUAKERS.
alreddy witli Dadley the Baker. Dont trust nothing, says he,
till it happen. And not even then if it don't suit to give credit.
Dear Ben, pray rite if you can say anny thing consoling under
an ounce — for witch a Stamp inclosed.
Your luving Bruther,
James Hockin.
P.S. — The Reverind Mister Grumpier have just bean and ex-
plained to Me the odds betwixt Old and New stiles, whereby the
real Day for the Hearth Quack is still to cum, namely Monday
the 28 th Instant. So there we are agin I
SONNET.
The world is with me, and its many cares.
Its woes — its wants — the anxious hopes and fears
That wait on all terrestrial affairs —
The shades of former and of future years —
Foreboding fancies, and prophetic tears,
Quelling a spirit" that was once elate : —
Heavens ! what a wilderness the earth appears,
Where Youth, and Mirth, and Health are out of dace
But no — a laugh of innocence and joy
Resounds, like music of the fairy race,
And gladly turning from the world's annoy
I gaze upon a little radiant face,
And bless, internally, the merry boy
Who " makes a son-shine in a shady-piaceu**
THE GRIMSBY GHOST
199
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
CHAPTER I.
In the town of Grimsbv-
•' But stop," says the Courteous and Prudent Reader, " are
there any such things as Ghosts ? "
" Any Ghostesses ! '* cries Superstition,
who settled long since in the country, near a
church-yard, on a rising ground, ** any Ghost-
esses ! Ay, man — lots on 'em ! bushels on
'em ! sights on 'em ! Why, there's one as
walks in our parish, reg'lar as the clock
strikes twelve — and always the same round
— over church-stile, round the comer, through
the gap, into Short's Spinney, and so along
into our close, where he takes a drink at the
pump, — for ye see he died in liquor, — and
then arter he's squenched hisself wanishes in-
to waper. Then there's the ghost of old
Beales, as goes o' nights and sows tares in
his neighbour's wheats — I've often seed un
in seed time. They do say that Black Ben,
the Poacher, have riz, and what's more,
walked slap through all the Squire's steel-
traps, without springing on 'em. And then
there's Bet Hawkey as murdered her own in-
fant — only the poor babby hadn't lamed to
walk, and so can't appear agin her."
But not to refer only to the ignorant and illiterate vulgar.
200
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
there are units, tens, hundreds, thousands of well-bred and edu-
cated persons, Divines, Lawyers, military, and especially naval
officers, Artists, Authors, Players, Schoolmasters, and Governesses,
and fine ladies, who secretly believe that the dead are on visit-
ing terms with the living — nay, the great Doctor Johnson him-
PALKY S PHILOSOPHY.
self affirmed solemnly that he had a call from his late mother,
who had been buried many years. Ask at the right time, and
in the right place, and in the right manner — only aftect a belief,
though you have it not, so that the party may feel assured of
sympathy and insured against ridicule — and nine-tenths of man-
kind will confess a faith in Apparitions. It is in truth an article
in the creed of our natural religion — a corollary of the recogni-
tion of the immortality of the soul. The presence of spirits —
visible or invisible^ — is an innate idea, as exemplified by the in-
stinctive night-terrors of infancy, and recently so touchingly
illustrated by the evidence of the poor little colliery-girl, who
declared that " she sang, whiles, at her subterranean task, but
never when she was alone in the dark."
THE GKIMSBY GHOST.
201
TALLY-ONI.
It is from this cause that the Poems and Ballads on spectral
subjects have derived their popu-
larity ; for instance, Margaret's
Ghost — Mary's Dream — and the
Ghost of Admiral Hosier — not to
forget the Drama, with that awful
Phantom in " Hamlet," whose
word, in favour of the Supernatural,
we all feel to be worth " a tho -
sand pound."
" And then the Spectre in * Don Giovanni ? ' "
No. That Marble Walker, with his audible tramp, tramp,
tramp on the staircase, is too substantial for my theory. It was
a Ghost invented expressly for the Materialists ; but is as inad-
missible amongst genuine Spirits as that wooden one described
by old W., the shipowner, — namely, the figure-head of the
Britannia, which appeared to him, he declared, on the very night
that she found a watery grave oif Cape Cod.
" Well— after that— go on."
CHAPTER II.
In the town of Grimsby, at the corner of Swivel-street, there
is a little chandler's-shop, which was kept for many years by a
widow of the name of MuUins. She was a careful, thrifty
body, a perfect woman of business, with a sharp gray eye to the
main chance, a quick ear for the ring of good or bad metal, and
a close hand at the counter. Indeed, she was apt to give such
scrimp weight and measure, that her customers invariably man-
oeuvred to be served by her daughter, who was supposed to be
more liberal at the scale, by a full ounce in the pound. The mau
and maid servants, it is true, who bought on commission, did
not care much about the matter ; but the poor hungry father,
202
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
the poor frugal mother, the little ragged girl, and the little dirty
boy, all retained their pence in their hands, till they could thrust
them, with their humble requests for ounces or half-ounces of
tea, brown sugar, or single Glo'ster, towards " Miss Mullins,'*
who was supposed to better their dealings, — if dealings they
might be called, where no deal of anything was purchased. She
was a tall, bony female, of about thirty years of age, but ap-
parently forty, with a very homely set of features, and the staid,
sedate carriage of a spinster who feels herself to be set in for a
single life. There was indeed " no love nonsense " about her ,
and as to romance, she had never so much as looked into a
novel, or read a line of poetry in her life — her thoughts, her
feelings, her actions, were all like her occupation, of the most
plain, prosaic character — the retailing of'soap, starch, sandpaper,
red-herrings, and Planders brick. Except Sundays, when she
went twice to chapel, her days were divided between the little
back-parlour and the
front-shop — between a
patchwork counterpane
which she had been
stitching at for ten
long years, and that
other counter work to
which she was sum-
moned, every few mi-
nutes, by the importu-
nities of a little bell
that rang every custo-
mer in, like the new
year, and then rang
him out again, like the
old one. It was her province, moreover, to set down all un-
ready money orders on a slate, but the widow took charge of
CAMBBIBGE BUTTEB.
THE GRIMSBY GHOST. 203
the books, or rather the book, in which every item of account
was entered, with a rigid punctuality that would have done
honour to a regular counting-house cleik.
Under such management the little chandler's shop was a
thriving concern, and with the frugal, not to say parsimonious
habits of mother and daughter, enabled the former to lay by
annually her one or two hundred pounds, so that Miss MuUins
was in a fair way of becoming a fortune, when towards the
autumn of 1838 the widow was suddenly taken ill at her book,
in the very act of making out a little bill, which, alas ! she never
lived to sum up. The disorder progressed so rapidly that on
the second day she was given over by the doctor, and on
the third by the apothecary, having lost all power of swallowing
his medicines. The distress of her daughter, thus threatened
with the sudden rending of her only tie in the world, may be
conceived; while, to add to her affliction, her dying parent,
though perfectly sensible, was unable, from a paralysis of the
organs of speech, to articulate a single word. She tried never-
theless to speak, with a singular perseverance, but all her
struggles for utterance were in vain. Her eyes rolled fright-
fully, the muscles about the mouth worked convulsively, and lier
tongue actually writhed till she foamed at the lips, but
without producing more than such an unintelligible sound as is
sometimes heard from the deaf and dumb. It was evident from
the frequency and vehemence of these efforts that she had some-
thing of the utmost importance to communicate, and which
her weeping daughter implored her to make known by means
of signs.
" Had she anything weighing heavy on her mind ? **
The sick woman nodded her head.
** Did she want anyone to be sent for ? "
The head was shaken.
** Was it about making her will ? **
204 • THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
Another mute negative. ♦
" Did she wish to have further medical advice **
A gesture of great impatience.
** Would she try to write down her meaning? "
The head nodded, and the writing-materials were immedi-
ately procured. The dying woman was propped up in bed, a
lead-pencil was placed in her right hand, and a quire of foolscap
was set before her. With extreme difficulty she contrived to
scribble the single word MARY; but before she could form
another letter, the hand suddenly dropped, scratching a long
mark, like what the Germans call a Devotion Stroke, from the
top to the bottom of the paper, — her face assumed an intense
expression of despair — there was a single deep groan — then a
heavy sigh — and the Widow MuUins was a corpse I
CHAPTER III.
" Gracious ! how shocking ! " cries Morbid Curiosity.
" And to die too, without telling her secret ! What could the
poor creature have on her mind to lay so heavy ! I'd give
the world to know what it was ! A shocking murder, per-
haps, and the remains of her poor husband buried Lord knows
where — so that nobody can enjoy the horrid discovery — and
the digging of him up ! "
No, Madam — nor the boiling and parboiling of his viscera to
detect traces of poison.
" To be sure not. It's a sin and shame, it is, for people to go
out of the world with such mysteries confined to their own
bosom. But perhaps it was only a hoard of money that she
had saved up in private ? "
Very possible. Madam. In fact, Mrs. Humphreys, the car-
penter's wife, who was present at the death, was so firmly of
that persuasion, that before the body was cold, although not the
THE GRIMSBY GHOST. 205
searcher, she had exercise(f a right of search, in every pot, pan,
box, basket, drawer, cupboard, chimney — in short, every hole and
corner in the premises.
" Ay, and I'll be bound discovered a heap of golden guineas
in an old teapot."
No, Madam — not a dump. At least not in the teapot — but
in a hole near the sink — she found —
" What, Sir ?— pray what ? "
Two black-beetles, Ma'am, and a money-spinner.
CHAPTER IV.
Well, the corpse of the deceased Widow received the usual
rites. It was washed — laid out — and according to old pro-
vincial custom, strewed with rosemary and other sweet herbs.
A plate full of salt was placed on the chest — one lighted candle
was placed near the head and another at the feet, whilst the Mrs.
Humphrey s> before mentioned, undertook to sit up through the
night and " watch the body." A half-dozen of female neigh-
bours also volunteered their services, and sat in the little back-
parlour by way of company for the bereaved daughter, who, by
the mere force of habit, had caught up and begun mechanically
to stitch at the patchwork-counterpane, with one corner of
which she occasionally and absently wiped her eyes — the action
strangely contrasting with such a huge and harlequin handker-
chief. In the discourse of the gossips she took no part or in-
terest : in reality she did not hear the conversation, her ear still
seeming painfully on the stretch to catch those last dying words
which her poor mother had been unable to utter. In her
mind's eye she was still watching those dreadful contortions
which disfigured the features of her dying parent during her
convulsive efforts to speak — she still saw those desperate at-
tempts to write, and then that leaden fall of the cold hand, and
the long scratch of the random pencil that broke off for ever
and ever the mysterious revelation. A more romantic or am-
206
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
bitious nature would perhaps have fancied that the undivulj^ed
secret referred to her own birth ; a more avaricious spirit might
have dreamed that the disclosure related to hidden treasure ;
and a more suspicious character might have even supposed that
death had suppressed some confession of undiscovered guilt.
But the plain matter-of-fact mind of Mary Mullins was in-
capable of such speculations. Instead of dreaming, therefore,
IN AT THE DBA.TH.
of an airy coronet, or ideal bundles of banu-notes, or pots full
of gold and silver coin, or a disinterred skeleton, she only
stitched on, and then wept, and then stitched on again at the
motley coverlet, wondering amongst her other vague wonders
why no little dirty boys, or ragged little girls, came as usual for
penny candles and rushlights. The truth being that the gossips
had considerately muffled up the shop-bell, for vulgar curiosity
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
207
had caused a considerable inilux of extra custom, so that thanks
to another precaution in suppressing noises, the little chandler's
shop presented the strange anomaly of a roaring trade carried on
in a whisper.
Owing to this circumstance it was nearly midnight before the
shop- shutters were closed, the street-door was. locked, the eas
turned off, and the sympathising females prepared to sit down
to a light, sorrowful supper of tripe and onions.
In the mean time the candles in the little back parlour had
burned down to the socket, into which one glimmering wick at
last suddenly plunged, and was instantly drowned in a warm
bath of liquid grease.
This trivial incident suf-
ficed to arouse Miss
Mullins from her tearful
stupor; she quietly put
down the patchwork, and
without speaking, passed
into the shop, which was
now pitch-dark, and with
her hand began to grope
for a bunch of long sixes,
which she knew hung
from a particular shelf.
Indeed, she could blind-
*• SHB WALKS IN BKAOTY, LIKE THB NIGHT." foldcd havc laid hcr haud
on any given article in the place ; but her fingers had no sooner
closed on the cold clammy tallow, than with a loud shrill scream
that might have awakened the dead — if the dead were evei' so
awakened — she sank down on the sandy floor in a strong fii !
•' La ! how ridiculous ! What from only feeling a tallow-
candle ? "
No, Ma'am ; but from only seeing her mother, in her habit
208
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
as she lived, standinp^ at her old favourite post in the shop ; that
IS to say, at the little desk, between the great black coffee-mill
and the barrel of red-herrings.
CHAPTER V.
" What ! a Ghost — a regular Apparition ? '*
Yes, Sir, a disembodied spirit, but clothed in some ethereal
substance, not tangible, but of such a texture as to be visible to
the ocular sense.
" Bah ! ocular nonsense ! All moonshine ! Ghosts be hanged!
— no such things in nature — too late in the day for them, by a
EE-ACTIOir.
whole century — quite exploded — went out with the old witches.
No, no, Sir, the ghosts have had their day, and were all laid
long ago, before the wood pavement. What should they come
for ? The potters and the colliers may rise for higher wages,
and the Chartists may rise for reform, and Joseph Sturge may
rise for his health, and the sun may rise, and the bread may
nse, and the sea may rise, and the rising generation may rise,
and all to some good or bad pui-pose ; but that the dead and
THE GRIMSBY GHOST. 209
buried should rise, only to make one's hair rise, is more than J
can credit."
They may have some messages or errands to the living.
" Yes, and can't deliver them for want of breath ; or can't
execute them for the want of physical force. Just consider
yourself a ghost "
Excuse me.
"Pshaw! I only meant for the sake of argument. I say,
suppose yourself a ghost. Well, if you come up out of your
grave to serve a friend, how are you to help him ? and if it's an
enemy, what's the use of appearing to him if vou can't pitch
into him."
Why, at least it is sJiowing your Spirit.
" Humph ! that's true. Well, proceed.'*
CHAPTER VI,.
There is nothing more startling to the human nerves than a
female scream. Not a make-believe squall, at a spider or a
mouse, but a real, shrill, sharp, ear-piercing shriek, as if from the
very pitchpipe of mortal fear. Nothing approaches it in thrill-
ing effect, except the railway whistle ; which, indeed, seems only
to come from the throat of a giantess, instead of that of an or-
dinary woman.
The sudden outcry from the little shop had therefore an ap-
palling effect on the company in the little back parlour, who for
the moment were struck as dizzy and stupefied by that flash of
sound, as if it had been one of lightning. Their first impulse
was to set up a chorus of screams, as nearly as possible in the
same key ; the next, to rush in a body to the shop, where they
found the poor orphan, as they called her, insensible on the
floor.
The fit was a severe one ; but, luckily the gossips were ex.
pcrienced in all kinds of swoons, hysterics, and faintings, and
210
THE GEIJVISBY GHOST.
used pach restorative process so vigorously, burning, choking,
pmcfiLing, slapping, and excoriating, that in a very few minutes
the patient was restored to consciousness, and a world of pain.
It was a long time, however, before she became collected enough
to pive an account of the Apparition — that she had seen her
Mother, or at least her Ghost, standing beside her old desk ;
that the figure had turned towards her, and had made the same
dreadful faces as before, as if endeavouring to speak to her — a
BBBB WITH A BODY.
communication which took such effect on the hearers that, with
one exception, they immediately put on their bonnets and de-
parted ; leaving old Mrs. Dadley, who was stone deaf, and had only
imperfectly heard the story, to sleep with Miss MuUins in what
was doomed thenceforward to be a Haunted House. The nigbt,
nevertheless, passed over in quiet; but toAvards morning the
ghostly Mother appeared again to the daughter in a dream, and
THE GEIMSBY GHOSl^. 211
with the same contortions of her mouth attempted to speak her
mind, but with the same ill-success. The secret, whatever it
was, seemed irrevocably committed to Silence and Eternity.
In the mean time, ere breakfast, the walking of Widow
Mullins had travelled from one end of Grimsby to the other ;
and for the rest of the day the little chandler's shop at the corner
of Swivel-street was surrounded by a mob of men, women, and
children, who came to gaze at the Haunted House — not without
some dim anticipations of perhaps seeing the Ghost at one of
the windows. Eew females in the position of Mary Mullins
would have remained under its roof ; but to all invitations from
well-meaning people she turned a deaf ear ; she had been born
and bred on the premises — the little back-parlour was her home
— and from long service at the counter, she had become-^to
alter a single letter in a line of Dibdin's —
All one as a piece of the shop.
As to the Apparition, if it ever appeared again, she said, " the
Ghost was the Ghost of her own Parent, and would not harm a
hair of her head. Perhaps, after the funeral, the Spirit would
rest in peace : but at any rate, her mind was made up, not to
leave the house — no, not till she was carried out of it like her
poor dear mother."
CHAPTER VII.
And pray, Mr. Author, what is your own private opinion ?
Do you really believe in Ghosts, or that there was any truth in
the story of this Grimsby Apparition ? "
Heaven knows, Madam ! In ordinary cases I should have
ascribed such a tale to a love of the marvellous ; but as I before
stated, Miss Mullins was not prone to romance, and had never
read a work ot fiction in her whole life. Again, the vision might
have been imputed to some peculiar nervous derangement of
the system, like the famous spectral illusions that haunted the
212 THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
Berlin Bookseller — but then the young woman was of a hardy
constitution, and in perfect health. Finally, the Phantom might
have been set down as a mere freak of fancy, the off-spring of
an excited imagination, whereas she had no more imagination
than a cow. Her mind was essentially commonplace, and
never travelled beyond the routine duties and occurrences of
her everyday life. Her very dreams, which she sometimes
related, were remarked as being particularly prosaic and insipid ;
the wildest of them having only painted a swann of over-
grown cockroaches, in the shop-drawer, that was labelled
*' Powder Blue." Add to all this, that her character for veracity
stood high in her native town ; and on the whole evidence
the verdict must be in favour of the supernatural appearance.
*' Well — I will never believe in Ghosts ! "
No, Madam. Not in this cheerful drawing-room, whilst the
bright sunshine brings out in such vivid colours the gorgeous
pattern of the Brussels carpet — no, nor whilst such a fresh wes-
terly air blows in at the open window, and sets the Columbines
a-(lancing in that China vase. But suppose, as King John
says, that
"The midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night:
If this same were a churchyard, where we stand — "
the grass damp — the wind at east — the night pitch-dark — a
strangely ill odour, and doubtful whistlings and whisperings
watted on the fitful gust.
**Well, Sir?— "
Why, then. Madam, instead of disbelieving in Ghosts, you
would be ready, between sheer fright and the chill of the night
air —
" To do what, Sir ?— "
To swallow the first spirits that oifered.
THE GllIMSBY GHOST.
213
CHAPTER VIII.
The second night, at the same hour, the same melodrama of
** domestic interest '* was repeated, except that this time the
maternal Phantom confronted her daughter on the landing-place
MUST COMB OUT ITEXT SPBIWG. '
at the top of the stairs. Another fainting fit was the conse-
quence ; but before her senses deserted her, the poor creature
had time to observe the identical writhings and twitchings of
the distorted mouth, the convulsive struggles to speak which had
so appalled her, whilst her departed parent was still in the flesh.
Luckily, the gossips, backed by two or three she-sceptics, had
ventured to return to the Haunted House, where they were
startled as before by a shrill feminine scream, and again found
Miss Mullins on the ground in a state of insensibility. The fit,
U
214
THE GRIMSBY GIJOST.
however, was as treatable as the former one, and the usual strong
measures having been promptly resorted to, she again became
alive to external impressions, — and in particular that a pmt of
aquafortis, or something like it, was going down her throat the
wrong way — that her little-finger had been in a hand-vice — her
temples had been scrubbed with sand and cayenne pepper, or
some other such stimulants, and the tip of her nose had been
scorched with a salamander or a burning feather. A conscious-
ness, in short, that she was still in this lower sphere, instead of
the realms of bliss.
The story she told on her recovery was little more than a se-
cond edition of the narrative of the preceding night. The
Ghost had appeared to her, made all sorts of horrible wry
mouths, and after several vain attempts at utterance, all ending
in a convulsive gasp, had suddenly clasped its shadowy hands
round its throat, and then clapped and pressed them on its pal-
pitating bosom, as if actually choking or bursting with the sup-
pressed communication. Of the nature of the secret she did not
offer the slightest con-
jecture ; for the simple
reason that she had for-
med none. In all her
days she had never at-
tempted successfully to
guess at the commonest
riddle, and to solve such
an enigma as her mother
had left behind her was
therefore quite out of the
question. The gossips
were less diffident; their
Wonder was not of the
Pitssive, but of the Active i=« ^^^^ o» »J^™-
THE GRIMSBY GHOST. 215
kiud, wkich goes under the alias of Curiosity. Accordingly,
they speculated amongst themselves without stint or scruple
on the matter that the Spirit yearned so anxiously to reveal ;
for instance, that it related to money, to murder, to an illegiti-
mate child, to adulterated articles, to a forged will, to a favour-
ite spot for burial ; nay, that it concerned matters of public in-
terest, and the highest affairs of the state, one old crone ex-
pressing her decided conviction that the Ghost had to divulge a
plot against the life of the Queen.
To this excitement as to the Spectre and its mystery, the con-
duct of the Next of Kin afforded a striking contrast : instead of
joining in the conjectural patchwork of the gossips, she silently
took up the old variegated coverlet, and stitched, and sighed,
and stitched on, till the breaking up of the party left her at
liberty to go to bed.
" And did she dream again of the Ghost ? "
She did, Miss : but with this difference ; that the puckered
mouth distinctly pronounced the word Mary, and then screwed
and twisted out a few more sounds or syllables, but in a gibber-
ish as unintelligible as the chatter of a monkey, or an Irvingite
sentence of the Unknown Tongue.
CHAPTER IX.
The third night came — the third midnight — and with it the
Apparition. It made the same frightful grimaces, and, strange
to relate, contrived to pronounce in a hollow whisper the very
word which it had uttered in Mary's last Dream. But the jum-
ble of inarticulate sounds was wanting — the jaws gaped, and the
tongue visibly struggled, but there was a dead, yes, literally a
dead silence.
216 THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
On this occasion, however, the daughter did not faint away ;
she had privately taken care to be at the hour of twelve in the
midst of her female friends, and her Mother appeared to her in
the doorway between the little back parlour and the shop. The
Shadow was only revealed to herself. One of the gossips, in-
deed, declared afterwards that she. had seen Widow Mullins, "as
like as a likeness cut out in white paper, but so transpai'ent that
she could look right through her body at the chaney Jemmy
Jessamy on the mantelpiece."
But her story, though accepted as a true bill by nine-tenths
of the inhabitants of Grimsby, was not honoured by any one
who was present that night in the little back-parlour. The two
staring green eyes of Miss Mullins had plainly been turned, not
on the fireplace, but towards the door, and her two bony fore-
fingers had wildly pointed in the same direction. Nevertheless,
the more positive the contradiction, the more obstinately the
story-teller persevered in her statement, still adding to its cir-
cumstantialities, till in process of time she affirmed that she had
not only seen the Ghost, but that she knew its secret ; namely,
that the undertaker and his man had plotted between them to
embezzle the body, and to send it up in a crate, marked " Chaney
— this side upwards," to Mr. Guy in the Borough. .
CHAPTER X.
On the fourth night the Ghost appeared at the usual time,
with its usual demeanour, — but at the shop instead of the par-
lour-door, close to the bundle of new mops.
On the fifth, behind the counter, near the till.
On the sixth night, again behind the counter, but at the other
end of it beside the great scales.
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
217
On the seventli night, which closed the day of the funeral, in
the little back-parlour. It had been hoped and predicted, that
after the interment, the Spirit would cease to walk — whereas at
midnight it reappeared, as aforesaid, in the room behind the
shop, between the table and the window.
On the eighth night, it became visible again at the old desk, be-
tween the great black coffee-mill and the herring-barrel. In the
opinion of Miss Mullins, the Spectre had likewise crossed her path
sundry times in the course of the day — at least she had noticed a
sort of film or haze that interposed itself before sundry objects
— for instance, the great stone-bottle of vinegar in the shop, and
the framed print of " the Witch of Endor calling up Samuel,"
in the back room. On all these occasions the Phantom had ex-
hibited the same urgent impulse to speak, with the same spas-
modic action of the features, and if possible, a still more intense
expression of anxiety and anguish. The despairing gestures and
motions of the visionary arms and hands were more and more
vehement. It was a tragic pantomime, to have driven any other
spectator raving mad !
■V.Y NA.T1TB GatT.
Even the dull phlegmatic nature of Miss Mullins at last
began to be stirred and excited by the reiteration of so awful a
218
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
spectacle : and her curiosity, slowly but surely, became in-
terested in the un-
divulged secret which
could thus keep a dis-
embodied spirit from
its appointed resting-
place, the weighty
necessity which could
alone recall a departed
soul to earth, after it
had once experienced
the deep calm and
quiet of the grave.
The sober sorrow of
the mourner was
changed into a feverish
'bidb my time."
fretting — she could no
longer eat, drink, or
sleep, or sit still, — the patchwork quiJt was thrust away in a
corner, and as to the shop, the little dirty boy, and the little
ragged girl were obliged to repeat their retail orders thrice over
to the bewildered creature behind the counter, who even then
was apt to go to the wrong box, can, or canister, — to serA'^e
them out train-oil instead of treacle, and soft-soap in lieu of
Dorset butter.
What wonder a rumour went throughout Grimsby that she
was crazy ? But instead of going out of her mind, she had
rather come into it, and for the first strange time was exercising
her untrained faculties on one of the most perplexing mysteries
that had ever puzzled a human brain. No marvel, then, that she
gave change twice over for the same sixpence, and sent little
Sniggers home with a bar of soap instead of a stick of brim-
stone. In fact, between her own absence of mind and the pre-
THE GRIMSBY GHOST. 219
sence of mind of her customers, she sohl so many good bargains,
that the purchasers began to wish that a Deaf aod Dumb Ghost
would haunt every shop in the town !
CHAPTER XI.
According to the confession of our first and last practi-
tioners, the testimony of medical works, and the fatal results of
most cases .of Trismus, there is no surgical operation on the
human subject so difficult as the picking of a Locked Jaw. No
skeleton key has yet been invented by our body-smiths that
will open a mouth thus spasmodically closed. The organ is in
what the Americans call an everlasting fix — ^the poor man is
booked — and you may at once proceed to put up the rest of his
shutters.
This difficulty, however, only occurs in respect to the physical
frame. For a spiritual lock-jaw there is a specific mode of treat-
ment, which, according to tradition, has generally proved suc-
cessful in overcoming the peculiar Trismus to which all Ap-
paritions are subject, and which has thus enabled them to break
that melancholy silence, which must otherwise have prevailed in
their intercourse with the living. The modus operandi is ex-
tremely simple, and based on an old-fashioned rule, to which,
for some obscure reason, ghosts as well as good little boys seem
bound to adhere, i.e., not to speak till they are spoken to. It is
only necessary, therefore, if you wish to draw out a dumb Spirit,
to utter the first word.
Strange to say, this easy and ancient prescription never oc-
curred to either Miss Mullins or her gossips till the ninth day,
when Mrs. Humphreys, happening to stumble on the old rule in
her son's spelling-book, at the same time hit on the true cau.«e
of the silence of the " Mysterious Mother." It was im-
mediately determined that the same night, or at least the very
220 THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
first time the Spirit reappeared, it should be spoken to ; the
very terms of the filial addi'ess, like those of a Royal Speech,
being agreed on beforehand, at the same council. Whether the
A SflB RUFFIAN.
orator, the appointed hour and the expected auditor considered,
would remember so long a sentence, admitted of some doubt ;
however it was learned by rote, and having fortified herself with
a glass of cordial, and her backers having fortified themselves
with two, the trembling Mary awaited the awful interview, con-
ning over to herself the concerted formula, which to assist her
memory had been committed to paper.
" Muther, if so be you ar my muther, and as such being
spoke to, speak I cunjer you, or now and ever after old your
Tung."
CHAPTER XII.
One — Two — Three — Four — Five— Six — Seven — ^Eight —
Nine— Ten— Eleven— TWELVE !
The Hour was come and the Ghost. True to the last stroke
of the clock, it appeared like a figure projected from a magic
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
221
'tun UOUB WAS COMB i.SD XHB aHCSI.
222 THE GRIMSBY GHOST,
lantern, on the curtain at the foot of the bed — for, through certain
private reasons of her own. Miss Mullins had resolved not only
to be alone, but to receive her visitor — as the French ladies do
— in her chamhre d. coucJier. Perhaps she did not care that any
ear but her own should receive a disclosure which might involve
matters of the most delicate nature ; a secret ihat might per-
chance affect the reputation of her late parent, or her own social
position. However, it
was in solitude and
from her pillow, that
with starting eyeballs,
and outstretched arms,
she gazed for the ninth
time on the silent
Phantom, which had
assumed a listening
expression, and an ex-
pectant attitude, as if
it had been invisibly
present at the recent
debate, and had over-
heard the composition
of the projected speech. But that speech was never to be spoken.
In vain poor Mary tried to give it utterance ; it seemed to stick,
like an apothecary's powder, in her throat — to her fauces, her
palate, her tongue, and her teeth, so that she could not get it out
of her mouth.
The Ghost made a sign of impatience.
Poor Mary gasped.
The Spirit frowned and apparently stamped with its foot.
Poor Mary made another violent effort to speak, but only
gave a sort of tremulous croak.
The features of the Phantom again began to work — the
muscles about the mouth quivered and twitched.
UOTHES OF FE1.KL.
THE GRIMSBY GHOST.
223
Poor Mary's did the same.
The whole face of the Apparition was drawn and puckered "by
a spasmodic paroxysm, and poor Mary felt that she was imitat-
ing the contortions, and even that hideous grin, the risus sar-
dojiicus, which had inspired her with such horror.
At last with infinite difficulty, she contrived by a desperate
effort to utter a short ejaculation — but brief as it was it sufficed
to break the spell.
The Ghost, as if it had only awaited the blessed sound of one
single syllable from the human voice, to release its own vocal
organs from their mysterious thraldom, instantly spoke.
But the words are worthy of a separate chapter.
CHAPTER XIII.
*' Mary ! it arnH booked — hut there's tuppence f 01 sandpaper at
number nine ! "
AN OLD 0KB, BUT 600D, WITH BOTH HANDS IN THE RING.
224
NO.
Note. — " It is much to the Discredit of Ghosts," — Says Johannes Lan-
ternus, in his '' Treatise of Apparitions," — " that they doe so commonly re-
visit the Earth on such trivial Errands as would hardly justify a journey
from London to York, much less from one World to another. Grave and
weighty ought to be the Matter that can awaken a Spirit from the deep
Slumbers of the Tomb : solemn and potent must be the Spell, to induce the
liberated Soul, divorced with such mortal Agony from its human Clothing,
to put on merely such flimsy Atoms, as may render it visible to the Eye of
Flesh. For neither willingly nor wantonly doth the Spirit of a Man forsake
its subterrane Dwelling, as may be seen in the awful Question by the Ghost
of Samuel to the Witch of Endor — 'Wherefore hast thou disquieted Me and
called me up ? ' And yet, forsooth, a walking Phantom shall break the
Bonds of Death, and perchance the Bonds of Hell to boot, to go on a
Mes-age, which concerns but an Individual, and not a great one either, or
at most a Family, nor yet one of note, for example, to disclose the lurking
Place of a lost Will, or of a Pot of Money in Dame Perkins her back Yard,
— Whereas such a Supernatural Intelligencer hath seldom been vouchsafed
to reveal a State Plot — to prevent a Royal Murther, or avert the Ship-
wrack of an whole Empire. Wherefore I conclude that many or most
Ghost Stories have had their rise in the Self-Conceit of vain ignorant
People, or the Arrogance of great Families, who take Pride in the Belief
that their mimdane Affairs are of so important a Pitch, as to perturb de-
parted Souls, even amidst the Pains of Purgatory, or the Pleasures of
Paradise."
NO!
No sun — no moon !
No mom — no noon —
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day —
NO.
225
No sky — no earthly view —
No distance looking blue —
No road — no street — no " t'other side the way " —
No end to any Kow —
No indications where the Crescents go-
No top to any steeple —
No recognitions of familiar people —
No courtesies for showing 'em —
No knowing 'em ! —
No travelling at all — no locomotion,
No inkling of the way — no notion —
" No go " — by land or ocean —
No mail — no post —
No news from any foreign coast —
No Park — no Eing— no afternoon gentility —
No company — no nobility —
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member —
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flow'rs, no leaves, no birds,
November !
BCNNUfG FOB IB.£ 0A.K8.
226 A BLACK JOB.
A PIir-AFOEB.
EPIGRAM
ON A LATE CATTLE-SHOW IN SMITHFIELD.
Old Farmer Bull is taken sick.
Yet not with any sudden trick
Of fever, or his old dyspepsy ;
But having seen the foreign stock,
It gave his system such a shock
He's had a fit of Cattle-epsy I
A BLACK JOB.
** No doubt the pleasure is as great,
Of being cheated as to cheat." — HuDlBRAS.
The history of human-kind to trace,
Since Eve — the first of dupes — our doom umiddled,
A certain portion of the human race
Has certainly a taste for being diddled.
Witness the famous Mississippi dreams !
A rage that time seems only to redouble—
A BLACK JOB. 227
The Banks, Joint-Stocks, and all the flimsy schemes,
For rolling in Pactolian streams,
That cost our modern rogues so little trouble.
No matter what, — ^to pasture cows on stubble,
To twist sea-sand into a solid rope.
To make French bricks and fancy bread of rubble,
Or light with gas the whole celestial cope —
Only propose to blow a bubble.
And Lord ! what hundreds will subscribe for soap I
Soap ! — it reminds me of a little tale,
Tho' not a pig's, the hawbuck's glory.
When rustic games and merriment prevail-
But here's my story :
Once on a time — no matter when —
A knot of very charitable men
■ Set up a Philanthropical Society,
Professing on a certain plan,
To benefit the race of man,
And in particular that dark variety.
Which some suppose inferior — as in vermin,
.The sable is to ermme,
As smut to flour, as coal to alabaster,
As crows to swans, as soot to driven snow,
As blacking, or as ink to " milk below,"
Or yet a better simile, to show,
As ragman's dolls to images in plaster !
However, as is usual in our city.
They had a sort of managing Committee,
A board of grave responsible Directors—
A Secretary, good at pen and ink —
A Treasurer, of course, to keep the chinfe.
228 A BLACK JOB.
And quite an army of Collectors !
Not merely male, but female duns,
Young, old, and middle-aged — of all degrees—
With many of those persevering ones,
Who mite by mite would beg a cheese !
And what might be their aim 1
To rescue Afric's sable sons from fetters—^
To save their bodies from the burning shame
Of branding with hot letters —
Their shoulders from the cowhide's bloody strokes,
Their necks from iron yokes ?
To end or mitigate the ills of slavery.
The Planter's avarice, the Driver's knavery ?
To school the heathen Negroes and enlighten 'em.
To polish up and brighten 'em.
And make them worthy of eternal bliss ?
Why, no— the simple end and aim was this —
Keadiug a well-known proverb much amiss — ■
To wash and whiten 'em !
They look'd so ugly in their sable hides :
So dark, so dingy, like a grubby lot
Of sooty sweeps, or colliers, and besides,
However the poor elves
Might wash themselves.
Nobody knew if they were clean or not —
On Nature's fairness they were quite a blot !
Not to forget more serious complaints
That even while they join'd in pious hymn
So black they were and grim,
In face and limb.
They look'd like Devils, tho' they sang like Saints I
A BLACK JOB. 229
The thing was undeniable !
They wanted washing ! not that slight ablution
To which the skin of the White Man is liable,
Merely removing transient pollution —
But good, hard, honest, energetic rubbing
4nd scrubbing,
Sousing each sooty frame from heels to head
With stiff, strong, saponaceous lather.
And pails of water — hottish rather,
But not so boiling as to turn 'em red !
So spoke the philanthropic man
Who laid, and hatch'd, and nursed the plan —
And oh ! to view its glorious consummation I
The brooms and mops.
The tubs and slops.
The baths and brushes in full operation I
To see each Crow, or Jim, or John,
Go in a raven and come out a swan !
While fair as Cavendishes, Vanes, and Russel
Black Venus rises from the soapy surge,
And all the little Niggerlings emerge
As lily-white as mussels.
Sweet was the vision — ^but alas !
However in prospectus bright and sunny,
To bring such visionary scenes to pass
One thing was requisite, and that was — money »-
Money, that pays the laundress and her bills.
For socks and collars, shirts and frills,
Cravats and kerchiefs — money, without which
The negroes must remain as dark as pitch ;
lb
230 A BLACK JOB.
A thing to make all Christians sad and shivery,
To think of millions of immortal souls
Dwelling in bodies black as coals,
And living — so to speak — in Satan's livery !
Money — the root of evil, — dross, and stuff !
But oh ! how happy ought the rich to feel,
Whose means enable them to give enough
To blanch an African from head to heel !
How blessed — yea, thrice blessed — to subscribe
Enough to scour a tribe !
While he whose fortune was at best a brittle one,
Although he gave but pence, how sweet to know
He helped to bleach a Hottentot's great toe,
Or little one !
Moved by this logic (or appall' d)
To persons of a certain turn so proper,
The money came when call'd,
In silver, gold, and copper,
Pre&ents from " Friends to blacks," or foes to whiteWi,
" Trifles," and " offerings," and " widow's mites,
Plump legacies, and yearly benefactions,
With other gifts
And charitable lifts.
Printed in lists and quarterly ti^ansactions.
As thus — Elisha Brettel,
An iron kettle.
The Dowager Lady Scanuel,
A piece of flannel.
Rebecca Pope,
A bar of soap.
A BLACK JOB. 231
The Misses Howela,
Half-a-dozen towels.
The Master Rush s,
Two scrubbing-brush e?.
Mr. T. Groom,
A stable broom,
"And Mrs. Grubb,
A tub.
Great were the sums collected !
And great results in consequence expected.
But somehow, in the teeth of all endeavour.
According to reports
At yearly courts.
The blacks, confound them ! were as black as ever!
Yes ! spite of all the water sous'd aloft.
Soap, plain and mottled, hard and soft,
Soda and pearlash, huckaback and sand.
Brooms, brushes, palm of hand,
And scourers in the office strong and clever,
In spite of all the tubbing, rubbing, scrubbing,
The routing and the grubbing.
The blacks, confound them ! were as black as ever !
In fact in his perennial speech,
The Chairman own'd the niggers did not bleaon.
As he had hoped.
From being washed and soaped,
A circumstance he named with grief and pity j
But still he had the happiness to say,
For self and the Committee,
By persevering in the present way
232 A BLACK JOB.
And scrubbing at the Blacks from day to day,
Although he could not promise perfect white,
From certain symptoms that had come to light,
He hoped in time to get them gray !
LuU'd by this vague assurance,
The friends and patrons of the sable tribe
Continued to subscribe,
And waited, waited on with much endurance —
Many a frugal sister, thrifty daughter —
Many a stinted widow, pinching mother —
With income by the tax made somewhat shorter.
Still paid implicitly her crown per quarter,
Only to hear as ev'ry year came round,
That Mr. Treasurer had spent her pound ;
And as she loved her sable brother,
That Mr. Treasurer must have another !
But, spite of pounds or guineas,
Instead of giving any hint
Of turning to a neutral tint.
The plaguy negroes and their piccaninnies
Were still the colour of the bird that caws —
Only some very aged souls
Showing a little gray upon their polls.
Like daws !
However, nothing dashed
By such repeated failures, or abashed,
The Court still met ; — the Chairman and Directors.
The Secretary, good at pen and ink,
The worthy Treasurer, who kept the chink,
And all the cash Collectors ;
' A BLACK JOB. 233
With hundreds of that class, so kindly credulous.
Without whose help, no charlatan alive,
Or Bubble Company could hope to thrive,
Or busy Chevalier, however sedulous —
Those good and easy innocents in fact,
Who willingly receiving chaflf for com,
As pointed out by Butler's tact.
Still find a secret pleasure in the act
Of being pluck'd and shorn !
However, in long hundreds there they were,
Thronging the hot, and close, and dusty courts
To hear once more addresses from the Chair,
And regular Report.
Alas ! concluding in the usual strain,
That what with everlasting wear and teai*.
The scrubbing-brushes hadn't got a hair —
The brooms — mere stumps — would never serve again—
The soap was gone, the flannels all in shreds.
The towels worn to threads.
The tubs and pails too shatter'd to be mended —
And what was added with a deal of pain.
But as accounts correctly would explain,
Tho' thirty thousand pounds had been expended —
The Blackamooi*s had still been wash*d in vain !
" In fact, the negroes were as black as ink.
Yet, still as the Committee dared to think.
And hoped the proposition was not rash,
A rather free expenditure of cash — ^"
But ere the prospect could be made more sunny —
Up jump'd a little, lemon-coloured man.
234
EPIGEAM.
And with an eager stammer, thus began,
In angry earnest, though it sounded funny :
" What ! More subscriptions ! No — no — no, — not I !
You have had time — time — ^time enough to try !
They won't come white ! then why— why— why — why— why,
More money 1 "
*' Why ! " said the Chairman, with an accent bland,
And gentle waving of his dexter hand,
*' Why must we have more dross, and dirt, and dust,
More filthy lucre, in a word, more gold —
The why, sir, very easily is told,
Because Humanity declares we must !
We've scrubb'd the negroes till we've nearly killed 'em,
And finding that we cannot wash them white.
But still their nigritude offends the sight,
}Fe mean to gild 'em I "
EPIGRAM
ON LIEUTENANT EYRE's NARRATIVE OF THE DISASTERS AT
CABUL.
A SORRY tale, of soiTy plans,
Which this conclusion grants,
That AfFghan clans had all the Khans
And we had all the cant's.
235
MRS. GARDINER.
A HOKTICULTUKAL ROMANCE.
CHAPTER I.
•• What sweet thoughts she thinks
Of violets and pinks." — L. Hunt.
** Each flow'r of tender stalk whose head, tho' gay,
Carnation, purple, azure, or speck'd with gold,
Hung drooping unsustain'd, them she upstays." — MiLTOH.
*'How does my lady's garden grow ?" — Old Ballad.
** Her knots disorder' d, and her wholesome herbs
Swarming with caterpillars," — Richard II.
I LOVE a Garden !
*' And so do I, and I, and I," exclaim in chorus all the he
and she Fellows of the Horticultural Society.
" And I," whispers the philosophical Ghost of Lord Bacon.
" And I," sings the poetical Spirit of Andrew Marvel.
" Et moi aitssi" chimes in the Shade of Delille.
" And I," says the Spectre of Sir William Temple, echoed
by Pope, and Darwin, and a host of the English Poets, the
sonorous voice of Milton resounding above them all.
" And I," murmurs the Apparition of Boccaccio.
" And I, and I," sob two Invisibles, remembering Eden.
" And I," shouts Mr. George Robins, thinking of Co vent
Garden.
" And I," says Mr. Simpson — formerly of Vauxhall.
" And I," sing ten thousand female voices, all in unison, as
if drilled by HuUah, — ^but really, thinking in concert of the
Gardens of Gul.
[What a string I have touched !]
236 MRS. GARDINER.
" We all love a Garden ! " shout millions of human voices,
male, female, and juvenile, bass, tenor, and treble. From the
East, the West, the North, and the South, the universal
burden swells on the wind, as if declaring in a roll of thunder
that we all love a Garden.
But no — one solitary voice — that of Hamlet's Ghostly
Father, exclaims in a sepulchral tone, " I don't ! '*
No matter — we are all but unanimous ; and so. Gentle
Readers, I will at once introduce to you my Heroine — a
woman after your own hearts — for she is a Gardiner by name
and a Gardener by natm*e.
CHAPTER II.
At Number Nine, Paradise Place, so called probably because
every house stands in the middle of a little garden, lives
Mrs. Gardiner. I will not describe her, for looking through
the green rails in front of her premises, or over the dwarf
wall at the back, you may see her any day, in an old poke
bonnet, expanded into a gipsey-hat, and a pair of man's
gloves, tea-green at top, but mouldy-brown in the fingers,
raking, digging, hoeing, rolling, trowelling, pruning, nailing,
watering, or otherwise employed in her horticultural and
floricultural pursuits. Perhaps, as a neighbour, or acquaint-
ance, you have already seen her, or conversed with her,
over the wooden or brick-fence, and have learned in answer
to your kind inquiries about her health, that she was * pretty
well, only sadly in want of rain,' or * quite charming, but
almost eaten up by vermin.' For Mrs. Gardiner speaks the
true " Language of Flowers," not using their buds and blos-
soms as symbols of her own nassions and sentiments, according
MES. GAEDTNEB.
237
238 MRS. GARDINER.
to the Greek fashion, but lending words to the wants and
affections of her plants. Thus, when she says that she is
" dreadful dry, and longs for a good soaking," it refers not
to a defect of moisture in her own clay, but to the parched
condition of the soil in her parterres : or if she wishes for a
regular smoking, it is not from any unfeminine partiality to
tobacco, but in behalf of her blighted geraniums. In like
manner she sometimes confesses herself a little backward,
without allusion to any particular branch, or twig, of her
education, or admits herself to be rather forward, quite
irrelevantly to her behaviour with the other sex. Without
this key her expressions would often be unintelligible to
the hearer, and sometimes indecorous, as when she told her
neighbour, the bachelor at Number Eight, a propos of a
plum-tree, that "she was growing quite wild, and should
come some day over his wall." Others again, unaware of her
peculiar phraseology, would give her credit, or discredit, for
an undue share of female vanity, as well as the most extra-
ordinary notions of personal beauty.
" Well," she said one day, " what do you think of Mrs.
Mapleson 1 " meaning that lady's hydrangea. " Her head's
the biggest — but I look the bluest."
In a similar style she delivered herself as to certain other
subjects of the rivalry that is universal amongst the suburban
votaries of Flora : converting common blowing and growing
substantives into horticultural verbs, as thus :
" Miss Sharp crocussed before me,-^but I snow-dropped
sooner than any one in the Row."
But this identification of herself with the objects of her
love was not confined to her plants. It extended to every
thing that was connected with her hobby — her gardening
implements, her garden-rails, and her garden-wall. For
example, she complained once that she could not rake, she
MRS. GARDINER. 239
had lost so many of her teeth — she told the carpenter the
boys climbed over her so, that he should stick her all over
tenter-hooks— and sent word to her landlord, a builder, the
snails bred so between her bricks, that he must positively
come and new point her.
" Phoo ! phoo ! " exclaims an incredulous, Gentle Reader —
" she is all a phantom ! "
Quits the reverse, sir. She is as real and as substantial as
Mrs. Baines. Ask Mr. Cherry, the newsman, or his boy,
John Loder, either of whom will tell you — on oath if you
require it — that he serves her every Saturday with the
Gardeners Chronicle.
CHAPTER III.
My first acquaintance with Mrs. Gardiner was formed
when she was "in populous city pent," and resided in a
street in the very heart of the city. In fact in Bucklersbury.
But even there her future bent developed itself as far as her
limited ways and means permitted. On the leads over the
back warehouse, she had what she delighted to call a
shrubbery : viz. —
A Persian Lilac in a tea-cbest,
A Guelder Rose in a -washing-tub,
A Laurustinus in a butter-tub,
A Monthly Rose in a Portugal grape-jar,
and about a score of geraniums, fuchsias, and similar plants
in pots. But besides shrubs and flowers, she cultivated a few
vegetables — that is to say, she grew her own salads of
" mustard and crest " in a brown pan j and in sundry crockery
vessels that would hold earth, but not water, she reared some
half dozen of Scai-let Runners, which in the proper season
240 MES. GARDINER.
you might see climbing up a series of string ladders, against
the back of the house, as if to elope with the Mignonnetto
from its box in the second-floor window. Then indoors, on
her mantelshelf, she had hyacinths and other bulbs in glasses
— and from a hook in the ceiling, in lieu of a chandelier,
there was suspended a wicker-basket, containing a white
biscuitware garden-pot, with one of those pendant plants,
which, as she described their habits and sustenance, are
" fond of hanging themselves, and hving on hare." But these
experiments rather tantalized than satisfied her passion.
Warehouse-leads, she confessed, made but indifferent gardens
or shrubberies, whilst the London smoke was fatal to the
complexion of her mop-rose and the fragrance of her southern-
wood, or in her own words,
" I blow dingy — and my old man smells sutty."
Once, indeed, she pictiu*ed to me her heau ideal of " a little
Paradise," the main features of which I forget, except that
with reference to a cottage omee, she was to have "a jessamy
in front, and a creeper up her back." As to the garden, it
was to have walks and a lawn of course, with plenty of rich
loam, that she might lay herself out in squares, and ovals
and diamonds — butter-tubs and tea-chests were very well for
town, but she longed for elbow-room, and earth to dig, to
rake, to hoe, and trowel up, — in short, she declared, if she
was her own missis, she would not sleep another night before
she had a bed of her own — not with any reference to her
connubial partner, but she longed, she did, for a bit of
ground, she did not care how small. A wish that her
husband at last gratified by taking a bit of ground, he did
not care how small, in Bunhill Fields.
The widow, selling ofi" the town house, immediately retired
to a villa in the country, and I had lost sight of her for
Bome months, when one May morning taking a valk in the
MRS. GARDINER. 241
suburbs, whilst passing in front of Number Nine, Paradise
Placej I overheard a rather harsh voice exclaiming, as if in
expostulation with a refractory donkey —
" Come up ! Why don't you come up 1 "
It was Mrs. Gardiner, reproaching the tardiness of her
seeds.
I immediately accosted her, but as she did not recognise
me, determined to preserve my incognito, till I had drawn
her out a little to exhibit her hobby.
*' Rather a late spring, ma'am ! "
" Worry, sir, — werry much so indeed. Lord knows when
I shall be out of the earth, I almost think I'm rotted in
the ground."
" The flowers are backward indeed, ma'am. I have hardly
seen any except some wall-flowers further down the row."
"Ah, at Number Two — Miss Sharp's. She's poor and
single — but I'm double and bloody." •
" You seem to have some fine stocks."
" Well, and so I have, though I say it myself. I'm the real
Brompton — ^with a stronger blow than any one in the place,
and as to sweetness, nobody can come nigh me. Would you
like to walk in, sir, and smell me ] "
Accepting the polite invitation, I stepped in through the
little wicket, and in another moment was rapturously sniffing
at her stocks, and the flower with the sanguinary name.
From the walls I turned off* to a rosebush, remarking that
there was a very fine show of buds.
" Yes, but I want sun to make me bust. You should
have seen me last June, sir, when I was in my full bloom.
None of yo\ir wishy washy pale sorts (this was a fling at the
white roses at the next door) — none of your Provincials, or
pale pinks. There's no maiden blushes about me. I'm the
regular old red cabbage ! "
242 MRS. GARDINER.
And she was right, for after all that hearty, glowing,
fragrant rose is the best of the species — the queen of flowers,
with a ruddy embonpoint, reminding one of the goddesses of
Rubens. Well, next to the rosebush there was a clump of
Polyanthus, from which, by a natural transition, we come to
discourse of Auriculas. This was delicate ground, for it
appeared there was a rivalry between Number Nine and
Number Four, as to that mealiness, which in the eye of a
fancier is the chief beauty of the flower. However, having
assured her, in answer to her appeal, that she was " quite as
powdery as Mr. Miller," we went on very smoothly through
Jonquils, and Narcissuses, and Ranunculus, and were about
to enter on " Anymoriies," when Mrs. Gardiner suddenly
stopped short, and with a loud " whist ! " pitched her trowel
at the head of an old horse, which had thrust itself over the
wooden fence.
" Drat the animals ! I might as well try flowering in the
Zoological, with the beasts all let loose ! It's very hard, sir,
but I can't grow nothing tall near them front rails. There
was last year, — only just fancy me, sir — with the most
beautiful Crown Imperial you ever saw — when up comes a
stupid hass and crops off my head."
I condoled with her of course on so cruel a decapitation,
and recovered her trowel for her, in return for which civility
she plucked and presented to me a bunch of Heartsease,
apologizing that "she was not Bazaar (pro Bizarre), but a very
good sort."
" It's along of living so near the road," she added,
recurring to the late invasion. " Yesterday I was buUocked,
and to-morrow I suppose I shall be pigged. Then there's
the blaggard men and boys, picking and stealing as they go
by. I really expect that some day or other they'll walk in
and strip me ! "
MRS. GARDINER. 243
I sympathised again ; but before the condoleraent was well
finished there was another " whist ! " and another cast of the
missile.
" That's a dog ! They're always rampaging at my front,
and there goes the cat to my back, and she'll claw all my
bark oflf in scrambling out of reach ! Howsomever that's a
fine lupin, ain't it 1 "
I assured her that it deserved to be exhibited to the
Horticultural Society.
" What, to the flower show ? No thankee. Miss Sharp
didj and made sure of a Bankside Medal, and what do you
think they gave her 1 Only a cerkittifit ! "
** Shameful ! " I ejaculated, " why it was giving her nothing
at all," and once more I restored the trowel, which, however,
had hardly settled in its owner's hand, than with a third
" whist ! " ofi" it flew again like a rocket, with a descriptive
announcement of the enemy.
■< Them horrid poultry ! Will you believe it, sir, that 'ere
cock flew over, and gobbled up my Hen-and-Chickens ! "
*<What ! *aU your pretty chickens and their dam ? ' "
** Yes, all my Daisy '^
[Beader ! — if ever there was a verbal step from the
Sublime to the Ridiculous — that was it.]
CHAPTER IV.
My mask fell off. That destructive cock was as fatal to
my incognito as to the widow's flowers : for coming after the
cat and the dog, and the possible pigs, and the positive
DuLock, and the men, and the boys, and the horse, and the
ass, I could not help observing that my quondam acquain-
tance would have been better off" in Bucklersbury.
244 MRS. GARDINER.
"Lord! and is it you!" she explaimed with almost a
scream; "well, I had a misgiving as to your woice," and with
a rapid volley of semi-articulate sounds the Widow seized my
right hand in one of her own, whilst with the other she
groped hurriedly in her pocket. It was to search for her
handkerchief, but the cambric was absent, and she was
obliged to wipe oiF the gushing tears with her gardening
glove. The rich loam on the fingers, thus irrigated, ran off
in muddy rivulets down her furrowed cheeks, but in spite of
her ludicrous appearance I could not help sympathising with
her natural feelings, however oddly expressed.
" She could not help it," she sobbed — " the sight of me
overcame her. When she last saw me, — He was alive — who
had always been a kind and devoted husband — as never
grudged her nothing — and had given her that beautiful
butter-tub for her laurustiny. She often thought of him —
yes, often and often — while she was gardening — as if she saw
his poor dear bones under the mould — and then to think
that &he came up, year after year — "flourishing in all her
beauty and flagrance " — and he didn't. — " But look there "
— and smiling through her tears, she pointed towards the
house, and told me a tale, that vividly reminded me of her
old contrivances in Bucklersbury.
" It's a table-beer barrel. I had it sawed in half, and
there it is, holding them two hallows, on each side of the
door. But I shan't blow, you know, for a sentry ! "
Very handsome, indeed
" Ain't they ? And there's my American Creeper. Miss
Sharp pretends to creep, but Lor bless ye, afore ever she gets
up to her first floor window, I shall be running all over
the roof of the willa. You see I'm over the portico
already.'*
A compliment to her climbing powers was due of course,
MRS. GARDINER. 245
and I paid it on the spot ; but we were not yet done with
creepers. All at once the Widow plucked off her garden
bonnet, and dashing it on the gravel began dancing on it
like a mad woman, or like a Scotch lassie tramping her dirty-
linen. At last when it was quite flat, she picked the bonnet
up again, and carefully opening it, explained the matter in
two words.
" A near- wig ! "
And then she went on to declare to me that they were the
plagues of her life — and there was no destroying them.
"It's unknown the crabs and lobsters I've eaten on
purpose, but the nasty insects won't creep into my claws.
And in course you know what enemies they are to carnations.
Last year they ruined my Prince Albert, and this year I
suppose they'll spoil the Prince of "Wales ! "
CHAPTER V.
Apropos of names.
I do wish that our Botanists, Conchoiogists, and Entomo-
logists, and the rest of our scientifical Godfathers and God-
mothers would sit soberly down, a little below the clouds,
and revise their classical, scholastical, and polyglottical
nomenclatures. Yea, that our Gardenera and Florists
especially would take their wateringpots and rebaptise all
those pretty plants, whose bombastical and pedantical titles
are enough to make them blush, and droop their modest
beads for shame.
The Fly-flapper is bad enough, with his Agamemnon
butterfly and Cassandra moth —
" What's Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba V
16
246 MRS. GARDINER.
but it is abominable to label our Flowers with antiquated,
outlandish, and barbarous flowers of speech. Let the Horti-
culturists hunt through their Dictionaries, Greek, and Latin,
and Lempriere's Mythology to boot, and they will never
invent such apt and pleasant names as the old English ones,
to be found in Chaucer, Spenser, and Shakspeare.
Oh, how sweetly they sound, look, and smell in verse —
charming the eye and the nose, according to the Rosicrucian
theory, through the ear ! But what is a Scutellaria
Macrantha to either sense ? Day's Eyes, Oxeyes, and Lippes
of Cowes have a pastoral relish and a poetical significance —
but what song or sonnet would be the sweeter for a
Brunsvigia 1
There is a meaning in Windflowers, and Cuckoo-buds, and'
Shepherd's Clocks, whilst the Hare-bell is at once associated
with the breezy heath and the leporine animal that frequents
it. When it is named, Puss and the blue-bell spring up in
the mind's eye together — but what image is suggested by
hearing of a Schizanthus retusus 1
Then, again, Forget-me-Not sounds like a short quotation
from Rogers' "Pleasures of Memory," Love-lies-Bleeding
contains a whole tragedy in its title — and even Pick-your-
Mother s-heart-out involves a tale for the novelist. But
what story, with or without a moral, can be picked out of a
Dendrobium, even if it were surnamed Clutterbuckii, after
the egotistical or sycophantical fashion of the present day ?
There was a jockey once who complained bitterly of the
sale of a race-horse, just when he had learned to pronounce
its name properly — Roncesvalles ; but what was that hard-
ship, to the misfortune of a petty nurseryman, perhaps,
losing his Passion-Flow«r, when he had just got by heart
Tacksonia Pinnatistipula ?
" Reform it altogether I *'
MRS. GARDINER. 247
It looks selfish, in the learned, to invent such difficult
nomenclatures, as if they wished to keep the character,
habits, origin, and properties of new plants to themselves
Nay, more, it implies a want of affection for their professed
favourites — the very objects of their attentions.
" How — a want of affection, sir ? "
Yes— even so, my worthy Adam ! For mark me — 'if you
really loved your plants and flowers —
"Well, sir r'
Why, then, you wouldn't call them such hard names.
CHAPTER VI.
To return to Mrs. Gardiner.
The widow having described the ravages of the earwigs,
beckoned me towards her wall, and was apparently about to
introduce me to a peach-tree, when abruptly turning round
to me, she inquired if I knew anything of chemicals ; and
without giving time to reply, added her reason to the
question.
" Cos I want you to pison my Hants." '
Your aunts !
"Yes, the hemmets. As to Dr. Watts, he don't know
nothing about 'em. They won't collect into troops to be
trod into dust, they know better. So I was thinking if you
could mix up summut luscious and dillyterious — ^"
She stopped, for a man's head suddenly appeared above
the dwarf wall, and after a nod and a smile at the widow,
saluted her with a good morning. He was her neighbour —
the little old bachelor at Number Eight. As he was rather
hard of hearing, my companion was obliged to raise her
248 MRS. GARDINER.
voice in addressing him, and, indeed, aggravated it so much
that it might have been heard at the end of the row.
"Well, and how are you^ Mr. Barrel, after them East
Winds % "
" Very bad, very bad indeed," replied Mr. Barrel, thinking
only of his rheumatics.
" And so am I," said Mrs. Gardiner, remembering nothing
but her blight : " I'm thinking of trying tobacco-water and a
squiringe."
" Is that good for it % " asked Mr. B., with a tone of doubt
and surprise.
So they say : but you must mix it strong, and squirt it
as hard as ever you can over your affected parts."
" What, my lower limbs % "
"Yes, and your upper ones too. Wherever you re
maggoty."
" Oh ! " grunted the old gentleman, '* you mean vermin."
" As for me," bawled Mrs. G., " I'm swarming ! And Miss
Sharp is wus than I am."
" The more's the pity," said the old gentleman, " we shall
have no apples and pears."
" No, not to signify. How's your peaches % "
"Why, they set kindly enough, ma'am, but they all
dropped off in the last frosty nights."
"Ah, it ain't the frost," roared Mrs. G. "You've got
down to the gravel — I know you have — ^you look so rusty
and scrubby ! "
" I wish you good morning, ma'am," said the little old
bachelor, turning very red in the face, and making rather a
precipitate retreat from the dwarf wall — as who wouldn't,
thus attacked at once in his person and his peach-trees.
"To be sure, he was dreadful unproductive," the Widow
said; "but a good sort of body, and ten times pleasanter
MRS. GARDINER. 249
than her next-door neighbour at Number Ten, who would
keep coming over her wall, till she cut off his pumpkin."
She now led me round the housiB to "her back," where she
showed me her grass-plot, wishing she was greener, and
asking if she ought not to have a roll. I longed to say, on
Greenwich authority, that about Easter Monday was the
proper season for the operation, but the joke might have led
to a check in her horticultural confidences. In the centre of
the lawn there was an oval bed, with a stunted shrub in the
middle, showing some three or four clusters of purple
blossoms, which the Widow regarded with intense admiration.
" You have heard, I suppose, of a mashy soil for roddy-
dandums ? Well, look at my bloom, — quite as luxurus as if
I'd been stuck in a bog ! "
There was no disputing this assertion ; and so she led me
off to her vegetables, halting at last, at her peas, some few
rows of Blue Prussians, which she had probably obtained
from Waterloo, they were so long in coming up.
•' Backard, an't 1 1 "
Yes, rather.
"Wery — but Miss Sharp is backarder than me. She's
hardly out of the ground yet — and, please God, in another
fortnight I shall want sticking."
There was something so comic in the last equivoque, that
I was forced to slur over a laugh as a sneeze, and then
contrived to ask her if she had no assistance in her labours.
" What, a gardener ? Never ! I did once have a daily
jobber, and he jobbed away all my dahlias. I declare I
could have cried ! But it's very hard to think you're a
valuable bulb, and when summer comes, you're nothing but
a stick and a label."
Very provoking indeed !
''Talk of transplanting, they do nothing else but trans-
250 MRS. GARDINER.
plant you from one house to another, till you don't kno\f
where you are. There was I, thinking I was safe and sound
m my own bed, and all the while I was in Mr. Jones's."
It's scandalous !
" It is. And then in winter when they're friz out, they
come round to one a beggin' for money. But they don't
freeze any charity out of me."
All ladies, however, are not so obdurate to the poor
Gardeners in winter — or even in summer, in witness whereof
here follows a story.
CHAPTER Vn.
An elderly gentlewoman of my acquaintance, on a visit at
a country house in Northamptonshire, chanced one fine
morning to look from her bed-chamber, on the second storey,
into the pleasure-ground, where Adam, the Gardener, was at
work at a flower-border, directly under her window. It was
a cloudless day in July, and the sun shone fervently on the
old man's bald, glossy pate, from which it reflected again in
a number of rays, as shining and pointed as so many new
pins and needles.
" Bless me ! " ejaculated the old lady, " it's enough to broil
all the brains in his head ; " and unable to bear the sight,
she withdrew from the casement. But her concern and her
curiosity were too much excited to allow her to remain in
peace. Again and again she took a peep, and whenever she
looked, there, two storeys below, shone the same bare round
cranium, supematurally red, and almost intolerably bright,
as if it had been in the very focus of a burning-glass. It
made her head ache to think of it 1
MRS. GARDINER. 251
Nevertheless she could not long remove her eyes. She was
fascinated towards that glowing sconce, as larks are said to be
by the dazzUng of a mirror.
In the meantime, to her overheated fancy, the bald pate
appeared to grow redder and redder, till it actually seemed
red hot. It would hardly have surprised her if the blood,
boiling a gallop, had gushed out of the two ears, or if the
head, after smoking a little, had burst into a flame by
spontaneous combustion. It would never have astonished
her had he danced off in a frenzy of brain fever, or suddenly
dropped down dead from a stroke of the sun. However he
did neither, but still kept work, work, working on in the
blazing heat, like a salamander.
" It don't signify," muttered the old lady, *4f he can
stand it I can't," and again she withdrew from the spectacle.
But it was only for a minute. She returned to the window,
and fixing her eyes on the bald, shining, glowing object,
considerately pitched on it a cool pot of beer — not Hterally,
indeed, but in the shape of five penny pieces, screwed up
tight in brown paper.
Moral. — There is nothing like well-directed benevolence !
CHAPTKR VIIL
** Yes, all gardeners is thieves ! "
As I could not dispute the truth of this sweeping proposi-
tion from practical experience, I passed it over in silence,
and contented myself with asking the Widow whence she
acquired all her horticultural knowledge, which she informed
me came " out of her Mawe."
" It was him as give me that, too," she whimpered, " for
252 MKS. GARDINER.
he always humoured my flowering; and if ever a grave
deserved a strewing over it's his'n — There's a noble old
helm?"
\ery, indeed.
" Yes, quite an old antique, and would be beautiful if I
could only hang a few parachutes from its branches.'*
I presume you allude to parasites 1
"Well, I suppose I do. And look there's my harbour.
By and by, when I'm more honey-suckled I shall be water-
proof, but I ain't quite growed over enough yet to sit in
without an umbrella."
As I had now pretty well inspected her back, including
one warm corner, in which she told me she had a good mind
to cow-cumber — we turned toward the house, the Widow
leading the way, when wheeling sharply round, she popped a
new question.
" What do you think of my walk 1 "
Why that it is kept very clean and neat.
" Ah, I don't mean my gravel, but my walk. At present
you see I go in a pretty straight line, but suppose I went a
little more serpentiny — more zigzaggy — and praps deviating
about among the clumps— don't you think I might look
more picturesque 1 "
I ventured to tell her, at the risk of sending her ideas to
her front, that if she meant her gait, it was best as it was ;
but that if she alluded to her path, a straight one was still
the best, considering the size of her grounds.
"Well, I dare say you're right," she replied, "for I'm only
a quarter of a haker if you measure me all round."
By this time we were close to the house, where the
appearance of a vine suggested to me th e query whether the
proprietor ever gathered any grapes.
"Ah my wine, my wine," replied the Widow, with as
MRS. GASDmER. 253
grave a shake cf the head and as melancholy a tone as if she
had really drunk to fatal excess of the ruby juice. "That
wine will be the death of me if somebody don't nail me up.
My poor head won't bear ladder work ; and so all training or
pruning myself is out of the question. Howsomever, Miss
Sharp is just as bad, and so I'm not the only one whose
wine goes where it shouldn't."
Not by hundreds of dozens, thought I, but there was no
time allowed for musing over my own loss by waste and
leakage : I was roused by a " now come here," and lugged
round the corner of the house to an adjacent building, which
bore about the same proportion to the villa as a calf to
a cow.
" This here's the washus."
So I should have conjectured.
" Yes, it's the washus now — but it's to be a greenus. I
intend to have a glazed roof let into it for a conservatory in
the winter, when I can't be stood out in the open air.
They've a greenus at Number Five, and a hottus besides — ■
and thiuKS 1, if so be I do want to force a little, I can force
myself in the copper ! "
The copper !
" Yes. I'm uncommon partial to foreign outlandish plants
— and if I'm an African, you know, or any of them tropicals,
I shall almost want baking."
These schemes and contrivances were so whimsical, and at
the same time so Bucklersburyish, that in spite of myself
my risible muscles began to twitch, and I felt that peculiar
internal quiver about the diaphragm which results from
suppressed laughter. Accordingly, not to offend the Widow,
I hurried to take my leave, but she was not disposed to part
with me so easily.
" Now come, be candid, and tell me before you go what
254 MRS. GARDINER.
you think of me altogether. Am I shrubby enough? I
fancy sometimes that I ought to be more deciduous."
Not at all. You are just what you ought to be — shrubby
and flowery, and gravelly and grassy — and in summer you
must be a perfect nosegay.
"Well — so I ham. But in winter, now, — do you really
think I am green enough to go through the winter ? "
Quite. Plenty of yews, hoUies, box, and lots of horti-
cultural laurels.
[I thought now that I was off — but it was a mistake.]
"Well, but — if you really must go — only one more
question — and it's to beg a favour. You know last autumn
we went steaming up to Twitnam 1 "
Yes— well ?
"Well, and we went all over Mr. What's-his-name's
WiUa ? "
Pope's— well ?
" Well then, somebody told us as how Mr. Pope was very
famous for his Quincunx. Could you get one a slip of it ? *
CHAPTER IX.
"Well, *or my part," exclaims Fashion, "those who
please may garden ; but I shall be quite satisfied with what
I get from my Fruiterer, and my Greengrocer, and ray
bouquets. For it seems to me, Sir, according to your
description of that Widow, and her operations, that
gardening must be more of a trouble than a pleasure. To
think of toiling in a most unfashionable bonnet and filthy
gloves, for the sake of a few flowers, that one may buy as
good or better, and made artificially by the first hands in
MRS. GARDINEE.
255
256 MRS. GARDmER.
Paris ! Not to name the vulgarity of their breeding. Why
I should faint if I thought my orange flowers came out of a
gi'ocer's tea-chest, or my camellia out of the butter-tub ! "
No doubt of it, Madam, and that you would never come
to if sprinkled with common water instead of Eau de
Cologne.
" Of course not. I loathe pure water — ever since I have
heard that all London bathes in it — the lower classes and
all. If that is what one waters with, I could never garden.
And then those nasty creeping things, and the earwigs ! I
really believe that one of them crawling into my head would
be enough to drive out all my intellects ! "
Beyond question, Madam.
" I did once see a Lady gardening, and it struck me with
horror ! How she endured that odious caterpillar on her
clothes without screaming surpasses my comprehension.
No, no — it is not Lady's work, and I should say not even
Gentleman's, though some profess to be very fond of it."
Why as to that. Madam, there is a style of gardening that
might even be called aristocratical, and might be indulged in
by the very first Exquisite in your own circle.
« Indeed, Sir ? "
Yes, in the mode, Madam, that was practised in his own
garden by the Poet Thomson, the Author of the " Seasons."
" And pray how was that. Sir 1 "
Why by eating the peaches ofi" the wall with his hands in
his pocket ; or in other words, gobbling up the fruits of
industry without sharing in the labour of production.
"0, fie ! that's Radical ! What do you say, my Lord? "
" Why, *pon honour, your ladyship, it doesn't touch me —
for I only eat other people's peaches — and without putting
my hands in my pockets at all."
Mils. GARDINER. 257
CHAPTER X.
" But do you really think, Sir," asks Chronic Hypochon-
driasis, " that gardening is such a healthy occupation 1 "
" I do. But better than my own opinion, I will give you
the sentiments of a celebrated but eccentric Physician on the
subject, when he was consulted by a Patient afflicted with
your own disease.
" Well, Sir, what's the matter with you 1 " said the bluff
Doctor.
"Why nothing particular, Doctor, if you mean any
decided complaint. Only I can't eat, and I can't drink, and
I can't sleep, and I can't walk — in short, I can't enjoy any-
thing except being completely miserable.'*
It was a clear case of Hypochondriasis, and so the
Physician merely laid down the ordinary sanatory rules.
"But you haven't prescribed. Doctor," objecxed the
Patient. " You haven't told me what 1 am to taKe."
" Take exeicise."*
" Well, but in what shape. Doctor ? '*
" In the shape ot a spade."
** What — aig lite a norse f" * '
** jN — iiKe a man."
" And no physio ? "
"No. You don't want draughts, or pills, or powders.
Take a garden — and a Sabine farm after it — if you like."
" But it is such hard work ? "
" Phoo, phoo. Begin with crushing your caterpillars —
that's soft work enough. After that you can kill snails,
they're harder — and mind, before breakfast."
" I shall never eat any ! "
258 MRS. GARDINER.
" Yes you will, when you have earned your grub. Or hoe,
and rake, and make yourself useful on the face of the
earth."
" But I get so soon fatigued.'*
" Yes, because you are never tired of being tired. Mere
indolence. Commit yourself to hard labour. It's pleasanter
than having it done by a Magistrate, and better in private
grounds than on public ones."
" Then you seriously suppose, Doctor, that gardening is
good for the constitution 1 "
" I do. For King, Lords, and Commons. Grow your
own cabbages. Sow your own turnips, — and if you wish for
a gray head, cultivate carrots."
"Well, Doctor, if I thought—"
" Don'.t think, but do it. Take a garden, and dig away as
if you were going to bury all your care in it. When you're
tired of digging, you can roll — or go to your walls, and set
to work at your fruit-trees, like the Devil and the Bag of
Nails."
** Well, at all events, it is worth trying; but I am sadly
afraid that so much stooping — "
" Phoo, phoo ! The more pain in your back, the more
you'll forget your hyps. Sow a bed with thistles, and then
weed it. And don't forget cucumbers."
" Cucumbers ! "
" Yes, unwholesome to eat, but healthy to grow, for then
you can have your frame as strong as you please, and
regulate your own lights. Melons still better. Only give
your melon to the melon-bed, and your colly to the colly-
flowers, and your Melancholy's at an end"
" Ah ! you're joking. Doctor ! "
" No matter. Many a true word is said in jest. I'm the
only physician, I know, who prescribes it, but take a garden
MRS. GARDINER. 259
—the first remedy in the world — for when Adam was put into
one he was quite a new man ! "
"But Mrs. Gardiner."
I had taken leave of her, as I thought, by the washhouse
door, and was hurrying towards the wicket gate, when her
voice apprised me that she was still following me.
" There is one thing that you ought to see at any rate, if
nobody else does."
And with gentle violence she drew me into a nook behind
a privet hedge, and with some emotion asked me if I knew
where I was. My answer of course was in the negative.
" It's Bucklersbury."
The words operated like a spell on my memory, and I
immediately recognised the old civic shrubbery. Yes, there
they were, The Persian Lilac, the Guelder Rose, the Monthly
Rose, and the Laurustinus, but looking so fresh and flourish-
ing, that it was no wonder I had not known them ; and
besides the chests and tubs were either gone or plunged into
the earth.
" Not quite so grubby as I were in town," said the Widow,
"but the same plants. Old friends like, with new faces.
Just take a sniff of my laylock — it's the same smell as I had
when in London, except the smoke. And there's my monthly
rose — look at my complexion now. You remember how
smudgy I was afore. Perhaps you'd like a little of me for
old acquaintance," and plucking from each, she thrust into
my hand a bouquet big enough for the Lord Mayor's coach-
man on the Ninth of November.
** Yes, we've all grown and blown together," she continued,
looking from shrub to shrub, with great affection. " We've
withered and budded, and withered and budded, and blos-
somed and sweetened the air. We're interesting, ain*t we ? "
Oh, very^ — there's a sentiment in every lea£
260 MRS. GARDINER.
" Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I often come here to
enjoy 'em, and have a cry — for you know he smelt 'em and
admh-ed 'em as well as us," and the mouldy glove might
again have had to wipe a moistened eye, but for an alarm
familiar to her ear, though not to mine, except through her
interpretation.
" My peas ! my peas ! old Jones's pigeons ! "
And rushing off to the defence of her Blue Prussians,
she gave me an opportunity of which I availed myself by
retreating in the opposite direction, and through the wicket.
It troubles me to this day that I cannot remember the shut-
ting it : my mind misgives me that in my haste to escape
it was most probably left open, like Abon Hassan's door,
and with as unlucky consequences.
Even as I write, distressing images of a ruined Eden rise
up before my fancy — cocks and hens scratching in flower
borders — pigs routing up stocks or rolling in tulips — a horse
croppmg rose-buds, and a bullock in Bucklersbury ! and all
this perhaps not a mere vision I That woeful Figure, with
starting tears and clasped hands contemplating the scene of
havoc, not altogether a fictiop I
Under this doubt, it will be no wonder that I have never
revisited the Widow, or that wh^n 1 stroll in the suburbs my
steps invariably lead me in any other direction than towards
Paradise Plaoe.
MRS. GAEDINEE.
261
17
262 MRS. GARDmER.
CHAPTER XI.
I HAVE told a lie !
I have written the thing that is not, and the truth came
not from my pen. There was deceit in my ink, and my
paper is stained with a falsehood. Nevertheless, it was in
ignorance that I erred, and consequently the lie is white.
When I told you, Gentle Reader, that any day you pleased
you might behold my heroine, Mrs. Gardiner, I was not
aware that Mrs. Gardiner was no more.
" No more ! "
No — for by advices just received, she is now Mrs. Burrel,
the wife of the quondam little old Bachelor at Number
Eight.
" What ! — married ! Why then she did go over the wall
to him as she promised."
No, miss — he came over to her.
" What !— By a rope ladder 1 "
No — there was no need for so romantic an apparatus.
The wall, as already described, was a dwarf one, about breast
high, over which an active man, putting one hand on the
top, might have va^alted with ease. How Mr. Burrel, unused
to such gymnastics, contrived to scramble over it, he did not
know himself ; but as he had scraped the square toes of each
shoe — damaged each drab knee — frayed the front of his satin
waistcoat — and scratched his face, the probability is, that
after clambering to the summit, he rolled over, and pitched
headlong into the scrubby holly bush on the other side.
For a long time, it appears, without giving utterance to
the slightest sentiment of an amorous nature, he had made
himself particular, by constantly haunting the dwarf wall
ims. GAEDINEE.
263
264 MRS. GAEDINER.
that divided him from the window, — overlooking her indeed
more than was proper or pleasant. For once, however, he
happened to look at the right moment, for casting his eyes
towards Number Nine, he saw that his fair neighbour was
in a very disagreeable and dangerous predicament — in short,
that she was in her own water-butt, heels upwards.
He immediately jumped over the brick partition, and
bellowing for help, succeeded, he knew not how, in hauling
the unfortunate lady from her involuntary bath.
" Then it was not a suicide 1 "
By no means, madam. It was simply from taking her
hobby to water. In plainer phrase, whilst endeavouring to
establish an aquatic lily in her waterbutt, she overbalanced
herself and fell in.
The rest may be guessed. Before the Widow was dry,
Mr. Burrel had declared his passion — -Gratitude whispered
that without him she would have been " no better than a
dead lignum vitse " — and she gave him her hand.
The marriage day, however, was not fixed. At the desire
of the bride, it was left to a contingency, which was resolved
by her " orange-flowering " last Wednesday — and so ended
the " Horticultural Eomance " of Mrs. Gardiner.
A MORNING THOUGHT.
No more, no more will I resign
My couch so warm and soft,
To trouble trout with hook and lintJ.
That will not spring aloft.
THE EEPEAL OF THE UNION.
With larks appointments one may fix
To greet the dawning skies,
But hang the getting up at six,
For fish that will not rise !
265
BACOU IW DEMAIfD -BKISTLKS OETTINa UP — A FULL SUPPLY OF BABTt— IVOBlf
BATHKU BJtISZ— TALLOW IS FLAT— ANB THEEE'S A EISS I» TIMBBE.
THE BEPEAL OP THE UNION.
It was a fine, clear, moonlight night, and Mike iMahory was
strolling on the beach of the Bay of Bealcreagh — who knows
why ? perhaps to gather dhoolamaun, or to look for a crab, but
thinking intensely of nothing at all, because of the tune he was
whistling, — when looking seaward, he saw, at about a stone's
cast from the shore, a dark object which appeared like a human
266 THE REPEAL OF THE UNION.
head. Or was it a seal ? Or a keg of whiskey ? Alas ! no
such good luck ! The dark object moved like a living thing,
FANCY POETBA.ITS. — KOWLA.KD AND SON.
and approaching nearer and nearer, into shallower water, re-
vealed successively the neck and the shoulders of a man.
Mike wondered extremely. It was a late hour for a gentle-
man to be bathing, and there was no boat or vessel within
Leandering distance, from which the unknown might have
swum. Meanwhile the stranger approached, the gliding motion
of the figure suddenly changing into a floundering, as if having
got within his depth, he was wading through the deep mud.
ITitherto, the object, amid the broad path of silver light, had
been a dark one ; but diverging a little out of the glittering
water, it now became a bright one, and Mike could make out the
features at least as plainly as those of the Man in the Moon.
At last the creature stopped a few fathoms off, and in a sort of
" forrin voice," such as the Irishman had never heard before,
called to Mike Mahoney.
Mike crossed himself, and answered to his name.
" What do you take me for ? " asked the stranger.
THE REPEAL OF THE UNION.
267
** Divil knows," thought Mike, taking a terrible scratch at his
red head, but he said nothing.
" Look here then," said the stranger ; and plunging head
downwards, as for a dive, he raised and flourished in the air a
fish's tail, like a salmon's, but a great deal bigger. After this
exhibition had lasted for about a minute, the tail went down,
and the head came up again.
*• Now you know, of course, what I am ? "
" Why, thin," said Mike, with a broad grin, " axing your
pardon, I take it you're a kind of Half-Sir."
FANCY POETBAIT.— AUDUBOIf.
" True for you," said the Merman, for such he was, in a very
melancholy tone. "I am only half a gentleman, and it's
268 THE KEPEAL OP THE UNION.
what troubles me, day and night. But I'll come more convenient
to you."
And by dint of great exertion, partly crawling, and partly
shooting himself forward with his tail, shrimp fashion, he con-
trived to reach the beach, when he rolled himself close to Mike's
feet, which instinctively made a step apiece in retreat.
" Never fear, Mike," said the Merman, " it's not in my heart
to hurt one of the finest peasantry in the world."
" Why, thin, you'd not object maybe," inquired Mike, not
quite reassured, " to cry O'Connell for ever ? "
" By no means," replied the Merman ; " or Success to the
Rent."
" Paix, where did he larn that ? " muttered Mike to himself.
" Water is a good conductor of sound," said the Merman,
with a wink of one of his round, skyblue eyes. " It can carry
a voice a long way — if you think of Father Mathew's."
" Bedad, that's true ! '* exclaimed Mike. " And in course
you'll have heard of the Repale ? "
*' Ah, that's it," said the Merman, with a long-drawn sigh,
and a forlorn shake of the head. *' That's just it. It's in your
power, Mike, to do me the biggest favour in the world."
"With all the pleasure in life," replied Mike, "provided
there's neither sin nor shame in it."
" Not the least taste of either," returned the Merman. " It
is only that you will help me to repeal this cursed Union, that
has joined the best part of an Irish gentleman to the worst end
of a fish."
" Murther alive ! " shouted Mike, jumping a step backward,
" what ! cut off your honour's tail ! "
" That very same," said the Merman. " * Hereditary bonds^
men, know ye not, who would be free, themselves must strike
the blow.' But you see, Mike, it's impossible in my case tc
strike the blow myself."
THE REPEAL OF THE UNION.
26^
" Shure, and so it is," said Mike, reflectively, " and if I
thought you would not be kilt entirely — which would be half a
murder anyhow — "
" Never fear, Mike. Only cut exactly through the first row
of scales, between the fish and the flesh, and I shall feel no
pain, nor will you even spill a drop of blood."
Mike shook his head doubtfully — very doubtfully indeed,
and then muttered to himself,
" Divil a bit of a Eepale without that ! "
" Not a drop, I tell you," said the Merman, " there's my
band on it," and he held out a sort of flesh-coloured paw, with
webs between the fingers.
" It's a bargain," said Mike, " but after all," and he grinned
knowingly at the Merman, " supposing your tail cut oiF from
you, it's small walking ye'll get, onless I could lend you the
loan of a pair o' legs."
"True for you, Mike," replied the
Merman, " but it's not the walking that
I care for. It's the sitting, Mike,"
and he winked again with his round,
sky-blue eye, "it's the sitting, and
which you see is mighty unconvenient,
so long as I am linked to this scaly
Saxon appendage."
" Saxon is it ! " bellowed Mike,
" hurrah then for the Eepale ! " and
whipping out a huge cla«p-knife from
his pocket, he performed the operation
exactly as the Merman had directed, —
and, strange to say of an Irish oper-
ation, without shedding a drop of blood.
" There," said Mike, having first kicked the so dissevered tail
into the sea, and then setting up the Half-Sir like a ninepin on
FANCY POETEAIT.-
PICKFOHD.
270 A TALE OF TERROR.
the broad end, " there you are, free and indepindint, and fit to
sit where you plase."
" Millia Beachus, Mike," replied the Merman, *' and as to the
sitting where I please," here he nodded three times very signifi-
cantly, " the only seat that will please me will be in College
Green."
" Och ! that will be a proud day for Ireland ! " said Mike,
attempting to shout, and intending to cut a caper and to thi'ow
up his hat. But his limbs were powerless, and his mouth only
gaped in a prodigious yawn. As his mouth closed again his
eyes opened, but he could see nothing that he could make head
or tail of — the Merman was gone.
" Bedad ! " exclaimed Mike, shutting his eyes again, and
rubbing the lids lustily with his knuckles, " what a dhrame I've
had of the Repale of the Union ! "
A TALE OF TEEROR*
The following story I had from the lips of a well-known
Aeronaut, and nearly in the same words.
It was on one of my ascents from Vauxhall, and a gentle-
man of the name of Mayor had engaged himself as a com-
panion in my aerial excursion. But when the time came his
nerves failed him, and I looked vainly around for the person
who was to occupy the vacant seat in the car. Having
waited for him till the last possible moment, and the crowd
in the gardens becoming impatient, I prepared to ascend
* This paper was really written under circumstances often spoken of
saa happening to authors. The printer's devil was really waiting for
copy down-stairs while it was done, — an unexpected gap appearing in
the Magazine. My father received frequent letters requesting him to
finish the sketch, and put his readers out of suspense.
A TALE OF TERROR. 271
alone ; and the last cord that attached me to the earth was
about to be cast off, when suddenly a strange gentleman
pushed forward, and volunteered to go up with me into the
clouds. He pressed the request with so much earnestness,
that having satisfied myself by a few questions of his
respectability, and received his promise to submit in every
point to my directions, I consented to receive him in lieu of
the absentee ; whereupon he stepped with evident eagerness
and alacrity into the machine. In another minute we were
rising above the trees ; and in justice to my companion I
must say, that in all my experience, no person at a first
ascent had ever shown such perfect coolness and self-posses-
sion. The sudden rise of the machine, the novelty of the
situation, the real and exaggerated dangers of the voyage,
and the cheering of the spectators, are apt to cause some
trepidation, or at any rate excitement in the boldest indi-
viduals; whereas the stranger was as composed and com-
fortable as if he had been sitting quite at home in his own
library chair. A bird could not have seemed more at ease,
or more in its element, and yet he solemnly assured me, upon
his honour, that he had never been up before in his life.
Instead of exhibiting any alarm at our great height from the
earth, he evinced the liveliest pleasure whenever I emptied
one of my bags of sand, and even once or tmce urged me to
part with more of the ballast. In the meantime, the wind
which was very light, carried us gently along in a north-east
direction, and the day being particularly bright and clear, we
enjoyed a delightful birdseye view of the great metropolis,
and the surrounding country. My companion listened with
great interest, while I pointed out to him the various
objects over which we passed, till I happened casually to
observe that the balloon must be directly over Hoxton.
My fellow-traveller then for the first time betrayed some
272 A TALE OF TERROR.
uneasiness, and anxiously inquired whether I thought he
could be recognised by any one at our then distance from
the earth. It was, I told him, quite impossible. Neverthe-
less he continued very uneasy, frequently repeating " I hope
they don't see me," and entreating me earnestly to discharge
more ballast. It then flashed upon me for the first time ihat
his offer to ascend with me had been a whim of the moment,
and that he feared the being seen at that perilous elevation
by any member of his own family. I therefore asked him if
he resided at HoxtoU; to which he replied in the affirmative ;
urging again, and with great vehemence, the emptying of the
remaining sand-bags.
This, however, was out of the question, considering the
altitude of the balloon, the course of the wind, and the
proximity of the sea-coast. But my comrade was deaf to
these reasons — he insisted on going higher ; and on my
refusal to discharge more ballast, deliberately pulled off and
threw his hat, coat, and waistcoat overboard.
" Hurrah, that lightened her ! " he shouted ; " but it's not
enough yet," and he began unloosening his cravat.
" Nonsense," said I, " my good fellow, nobody can recog-
nise you at this distance, even with a telescope."
" Don't be too sure of that," he retorted rather simply ;
** they have sharp eyes at Miles' s."
"At where?"
« At Miles's Madhouse ! "
Gracious Heaven! — the truth flashed upon me in an
instant. I was sitting in the frail car of a balloon, at least
a mile above the earth, with a Lunatic. The horrors of the
situation, for a minute, seemed to deprive me of ray own
senses. A sudden freak of a distempered fancy — a transient
fury — the shghtest struggle, might send us both, at a
moment's notice, into eternity ! In the meantime, the
A TALE OF TERROR. 273
Maniac, still repeating his insane cry of "Higher, higher,
higher," divested himself, successively, of every remaining
article of clothing, throwing each portion, as soon as taken
off, to the winds. The inutility of remonstrance, or rather the
probability of its producing a fatal irritation, kept me silent
during these operations : but judge of my terror, when having
thrown his stockings overboard, I heard him say, " We are
not yet high enough by ten thousand miles — one of us must
throw out the other."
To describe my feelings at this speech is impossible. Not
only the awfulness of my position, but its novelty, conspired
to bewilder me — for certainly no flight of imagination — no,
not the wildest nightmare dream had ever placed me in so
desperate and forlorn a situation. It was horrible ! — horrible !
Words, pleadings, remonstrances were useless, and resistance
would be certain destruction. I had better have been un-
armed, in an American wilderness, at the mercy of a savage
Indian ! And now, without daring to stir a hand in oppo-
sition, I saw the Lunatic deliberately heave first one, and
then the other bag of ballast from the car, the balloon of
course rising: with ptoportionate rapidity. Up, up, up it
soared — to an altitude I had never even dared to contem-
plate — the earth was lost to my eyes, and nothing but the
huge clouds rolled beneath us ! The world was gone I felt
for ever ! The Maniac, however, was still dissatisfied with
our ascent, and a^ain began to mutter.
" Have you a wife and children ? " he asked abruptly.
Prompted by a natural instinct, and with a pardonable
deviation from truth, I replied that I was married, and had
fourteen young ones who depended on me for their bread.
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! *' laughed the Maniac, with a sparkling of
his eyes that chiilod my very marrow. " I have three hun-
dred wives and five thousand children ; and if the balloon
274
A VERY SO-SO CHARACTER.
liad not been so heavy by carrying double, I should have
been home to them by this time."
" And where do they live ] " I asked, anxious to gain
time by any question that first occurred to me.
" In the moon," replied the Maniac ; " and when I have
lightened the car I shall be there in no time."
I heard no more, for suddenly approaching me, and
throwing his arms around my body
A VEEY SO-SO CHAEACTER.
" I TAKE it for granted," said Mrs. Wiggins, inquiring as to
tlie character of a certain humble companion, " that she is tem-
perate, conversable, and willing to make herself agreeable ? "
" Quite," replied Mrs. Eiggins. " Indeed, I never knew a
young person so sober, so sociable, and so solicitous to please."
SHB HOXrSX OV COUVOKS
LAYING DOWN THE LAW. 275
LAYING DOWN THE LAW.
"I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark."
Merchant of Venice.
* ' If thou wert born a Dog, remain so ; but if thou wert born a Man,
resume thy former shape." — Arabian Nights.
A Poodle, Judge-like, with emphatic paw,
Dogmatically laying down the law, —
A batch of canine Counsel round the table.
Keen-eyed, and sharp of nose, and long of jaw,
At sight, at scent, at giving tongue, right able :
0, Edwin Landseer, Esquire, and R. A.,
Thou great Pictorial iEsop, say,
What is the moral of this painted fable ?
0, say, accomplished artist !
Was it thy purpose, by a scene so quizzical,
To read a wholesome lesson to the Chartist,
So over partial to the means called Physical,
Sticks, staves, and swords, and guns, the tools of treason 1
To show, illustrating the better course,
The very Brutes abandoning Brute Force,
The worry and the fight.
The bark and bite.
In which, says Doctor Watts, the dogs delight,
And lending shaggy ears to Law and Pteason,
As utter' d in that Court of high antiquity
Where sits the Chancellor, supreme as Pope,
276 LAYING DOWN THE LAW.
But works — so let us hope —
In equity, not iniquity 1
Or was it but a speculation
On transmigration,
How certain of our most distinguished Daniels,
Interpreters of Law's bewildering book,
Would look
Transformed to mastiffs, setters, hounds, and spaniels
(As Brahmins in their Ilmdoo code advance),
With that great lawyer of the Upper House
Who rules all suits by equitable novs^
Become — like vile Armina's spouse —
A Dog, called Chance 1 *
Methinks, indeed, I recognise
In those deep-set and meditative eyes
Engaged in mental puzzle,
And that portentous muzzle,
A celebrated judge, too prone to tarry
To hesitate on devious ins and outs,
And, on preceding doubts, to build re-douhts
That regiments could not carry —
Prolonging even Law's delays, and still
Putting a skid upon the wheel up-hill,
Meanwhile the weary and desponding client
Seem'd — in the agonies of indecision —
In Doubting Castle, with that dreadful Giant
Described in Bunyan's Vision 1
So slow, indeed, was justice in its ways^
Beset by more than customaiy clogjs,
* See the story of SIdi Nonman, in tbe "Arabian Nights,"
LAYING DOWN THE LAW, 277
Going to law in those expensive days
Was much the same as going to the Dogs !
But possibly I err,
And that sagacious and judicial Creature,
So Chancellor-like in feature.
With ears so wig-like, and a cap of fur,
Looking as grave, responsible, and sage,
As if he had the guardianship, in fact,
Of all poor dogs, or crackt,
And puppies under age —
It may be that the Creature was not meant
Any especial Lord to represent,
Eldou or Erskine, Cottenham or Thurlow,
Or Brougham (more like him whose potent jaw
Is holding forth the letter of the law).
Or Lyndhurst, after the vacation's furlough,
Presently sitting in the House of Peers,
On wool he sometimes wishes in his ears.
When touching Corn Laws, Taxes, or Tithe-piggery»
He hears a fierce attack.
And, sitting on his sack.
Listens in his great wig to greater Whiggery i
So, possibly, those others,
In coats so various, or sleek, or rough,
Aim not at any of the legal brothers,
Who wear the silken robe, or go^n of stuff
Yet who that ever heard or saw
The Counsel sitting in that solemn Court,
Who, having pass'd the Bar, are safe in port,
Or those great Sergeants, learned in the Law,—
Who but must trace a feature now and then
Of those forensic men,
IS
278 LAYING DOWN THE LAW.
As good at finding heirs as any harrier,
Renown'd like greyhounds for long tales — indeed.
At worrying the ear as apt as terriers, —
Good at conveyance as the hairy carriers
That bear our gloves, umbrellas, hats, and sticks,
Books, baskets, bones, or bricks,
In Deeds of Trust as sure as Tray the trusty,—
Acute at sniffing flaws on legal grounds, —
And lastly — well the catalogue it closes ! —
Still following their predecessors' noses,
Through ways however dull or dusty,
As fond of hunting precedents, as hounds
Of running after foxes more than musty.
However slow or fast.
Full of urbanity, or supercilious.
In temper wild, serene, or atrabilious,
Fluent of tongue, or prone to legal saw.
The Dogs have got a Chancellor, at last.
For Laying down the Law !
And never may the canine race regret it.
With whinings and repinings loud or deep,—
Ragged in coat, and shorten'd in their keep,
Worried by day, and troubled in their sleep.
With cares that prey upon the heart and fret if^—
Afl human suitors have had cause to weep —
For what is Law, unless poor Dogs can get ifc
Dog-cheap ?
A CUSTOM-HOUSE BREEZE. 279
A CUSTOM-HOUSE BREEZE.
One day — no matter for the month or year,
A Calais packet, just come over.
And safely moor'd within the pier.
Began to land her passengers at Dover ;
All glad to end a voyage long and rough,
And during which.
Through roll and pitch,
The Ocean-King had sicko-pha.ia.ts enough !
Away, as fast as they could walk or run.
Eager for steady rooms and quiet meals.
With bundles, bags, and boxes at their heels,
Away the passengers all went but one,
A female, who from some mysterious check,
Still linger'd on the steamer's deck,
As if she did not care for land a tittle.
For horizontal rooms, and cleanly victual —
Or nervously afraid to put
Her foot
Into an Isl« described as " tight and little."
In'vain commissioner and touter.
Porter and waiter throng'd about her
Boring, as such officials only bore —
In spite of rope and barrow, knot and truck,
Of plank and ladder, there she stuck.
She couldn't, no, she wouldn't go on shore.
280 EPIGRAM.
" But, ma'am," the steward interfered,
" The wessel must be cleared.
You mustn't stay aboard, ma'am, no one don't!
It's quite agin the orders so to do —
And all the passengers is gone but you."
Says she, " I cannot go ashore and won't ! "
" You ought to ! "
"But I can't!''
" You must ! "
"I shan't!"
At last, attracted by the racket,
'Twixt gown and jacket.
The captain came himself, and cap in hand,
Begg'd very civilly to understand
Wherefore the lady could not leave the packet.
" Why then," the lady whispered with a shiver,
That made the accents quiver,
" I've got some foreign silks about me pinn'd.
In short so many things, all contraband,
To tell the truth I am afraid to land,
In such a searching wind ! "
EPIGRAM.
THE SUPERIORITY OF MACHINERY.
A Mechanic his labour will often discard
If the rate of his pay he dislikes j
But a clock — and its case is uncommonly hard —
Will continue to work, tho' it strikes/
MORE HULLAH-BALOO. 281
MORE HULLAH-BALOO.
•'Lond as from numbers "wdthout number." — Milton.
** You may do it extempore, for it's nothing but roaring.**
QaiNOK.
Amongst the great inventions of this age,
Which ev'ry other century surpasses,
Is one, — just now the rage, —
Call'd "Singing for all Classes"—
That is, for all the British millions,
And billions,
And quadriUions,
Not to name Quintilians^
That now, alas ! have no more ear than asses,
To learn to warble like the birds in June,
In time and tune,
Correct as clocks, and musical as glf
In fact, a sort of plan,
Including gentleman as well as yokoi,
Public or private man,
To call out a Mihtia, — only Vocal
Instead of Local,
And not designed for military foUies,
But keeping still within the civil border,
To form with mouths in open order.
And sing in volleys.
Whether this grand harmonic scheme
Will ever get beyond a dream.
282 MORE HULLAH-BALOO.
And tend to British happiness and glorj,
Maybe no, and maybe yes,
Is more than I pretend to guess-
However, here's my story.
In one of those small, quiet streets,
Where Business retreats.
To diun the daily bustle and the noise
The shoppy Strand enjoys.
But Law, Joint-Companies, and Life Assurance
Find past endurance —
In one of those back streets, to Peace so dear,
The other day, a ragged wight
Began to sing with all his might,
** / have a silent sorrow here I " •
The place was lonely ; not a creature stirr*d
Except some little dingy bird ;
Or vagrant cur that sniflTd along.
Indifferent to the Son of Song ;
No truant errand-boy, or Doctor's lad.
No idle filch or lounging cad.
No Pots encumber'd with diurnal beer,
No printer's devil with an author's proof,
Or housemaid on an errand far aloof,
Linger'd the tatter'd Melodist to hear — ■
Who yet, confound him ! bawl'd as loud .
As if he had to charm a London crowd.
Singing beside the public way.
Accompanied — instead of violin.
Flute, or piano, chiming in —
By rumbling cab, and omnibus, and dray.
MORE HULLAH-BALOO. 283
A van with iron bars to play staccato^
Or engine obligato —
In short, without one instrument vehicular
(Not ev'n a truck, to be particular),
There stood the rogue and roar'd,
Unasked and unencored.
Enough to split the organs call'd auricular !
Heard in that quiet place,
Devoted to a still and studious race,
The noise was quite appalling !
To seek a fitting simile and spin it.
Appropriate to his calling,
His voice had aU Lablache's hody in it ;
But oh ! the scientific tone it lack'd.
And was, in fact,
Only a forty-boatswain-power of bawling f
'Twas said, indeed, for want of vocal nouSf
The stage had banish'd him when he attempted it,
For tho' his voice completely fiU'd the hoube.
It also emptied it.
However, there he stood
Vociferous — a ragged don !
And with his iron pipes laid on ,
A row to all the neighbourhood.
In vain were sashes closed
And doors against the persevering Stentor,
Though brick, and glass, and solid oak oppose(^
Th* intruding voice would enter,
Heedless of ceremonial or decorum,
Den, office, parlour, study, and sanctorum ;
274
A VERY SO-SO CHARACTER.
had not been so heavy by carrying double, I should have
been home to them by this time."
" And where do they live 1" I asked, anxious to gain
time by any question that first occurred to me.
" In the moon," replied the Maniac ; " and when I have
lightened the car I shall be there in no time."
I heard no more, for suddenly approaching me, and
throwing his arms around my body
A VERY SO-SO CHARACTER.
" I TAKE it for granted," said Mrs. Wiggins, inquiring as to
tlie character of a certain humble companion, " that she is tem-
perate, conversable, and wiUing to make herself agreeable ? "
" Quite,'* replied Mrs. Figgins. " Indeed, I never knew a
young person so soher, so sociable, and so solicitous to please."
THB HOTTSS OF COUUONS
LAYING DOWN THE LAW. 275
LAYING DOWN THE LAW.
' I am Sir Oracle,
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark."
Merchant of Venice.
* ' If thou wert born a Dog, remain so ; but if thou wert born a Man,
resume thy former shape." — Arabian Nights.
A Poodle, Judge-like, with emphatic paw,
Dogmatically laying down the law, —
A batch of canine Counsel round the table,
Keen-eyed, and sharp of nose, and long of jaw,
At sight, at scent, at giving tongue, right able :
0, Edwin Landseer, Esquire, and R. A.,
Thou great Pictorial iEsop, say.
What is the moral of this painted fable ?
0, say, accomplished artist !
Was it thy purpose, by a scene so quizzical,
To read a wholesome lesson to the Chartist,
So over partial to the means called Physical,
Sticks, staves, and swords, and guns, the tools of treason?
To show, illustrating the better course,
The very Brutes abandoning Brute Force,
The worry and the fight.
The bark and bite.
In which, says Doctor Watts, the dogs delight,
And lending shaggy ears to Law and Reason,
As utter'd in that Court of high antiquity
Where sits the Chancellor, supreme as Pope,
286 ^ MORE HULLAH-BALOO.
For so some moral people, strictly loth
To swear in words, however up.
Will crash a curse in setting down a cup,
Or through a doorpost vent a banging oath—
In fact, this sort of physical transgression
1b really no more difficult to trace
Than in a given face
A very had expression.
However, in she went.
Leaving the subject of her discontent
To I^Ir. Jones's Clerk at Number Ten ;
Who, throwing up the sash,
With accents rash.
Thus hail'd the most vociferous of men :
" Come, come, I say old fellor, stop your chant
I cannot write a sentence — no one can't 1
So just pack up your trumps,
And stir your stumps — ^*'
Says he, " I shan't ! "
Down went the sash
As if devoted to " eternal smash "
(Another illustration
Of acted imprecation).
While close at hand, uncomfortably near.
The independent voice, so loud and stronq^
And clanging like a gong,
Roar'd out again the everlasting song,
- " I have a silent sorrow here !'*
The thing was hard to stand !
The Music-masier could not stand it —
MORE HULLAH-BALOO.
But rushing forth with fiddle-stick in hand,
As savage as a bandit,
Made up directly to the tatter' d man,
And thus in broken sentences began —
But playing first a prelude of grimaces,
Twisting his features to the strangest shapes,
So that to guess his subject from his faces,
He meant to give a lecture upon apes —
" Com — com — I say !
You go away !
Into two parts my head you split —
My fiddle cannot hear himself a bit,
When I do play —
You have no bis'ness in a place so still I
Can you not come another day 1 **
Says he— " I will."
•* No — no — ^you scream and bawl !
You must not come at all !
You have no rights, by rights, to beg —
You have not one ofi" leg —
You ought to work — you have not some concplaint-
You are not cripple in your back or bones—
Your voice is strong enough to break some stones "-
Sayshe— "Itaint!"
** 1 say you ought to labour !
You are in a young case,
You have not sixty years upon your face.
To come and beg your neighbour,
And discompose his music with a noise
More worse than twenty boys — -
288 THE FLOWER.
Look what a street it is for quiet !
No cart to make a riot,
No coach, no horses, no postilion.
If you will sing, I say, it is not just
To sing so loud." — Says he, " 1 must 1
I'm SINGING FOR THE MILLION ! "
THE FLOWER.
Alone, across a foreign plain,
The Exile slowly wanders,
And on his Isle beyond the main
With sadden' d spirit ponders :
This lovely Isle beyond the sea,
With all its household treasuree ;
Its cottage homes, its merry birds,
And all its rural pleasures :
Its leafy woods, its shady vales,
Its moors, and pm^le heather ;
Its verdant fields bedeck'd with stars
His childhood loved to gather :
When lo ! he starts, with glad surprisb,
Home-joys come rushing o'er him,
For " modest, wee, and crimson-tipp'd,*
He spies the flower before him !
With eager haste he stoops him down,
His eyes with moisture hazy.
And as he plucks the simple bloom,
He mmmm-s, " Lawk-a-daisy ! "
HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURE. 289
WE HAVEN T MET THIS AGE.'
HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURE,
AS PRACTISED BY VINCENT PRIESSNITZ, AT GRAFENBERQ,
BY R. T. CLARIDGE, ESQ.
* The •lement that never tires." — Basil Hall.
The greatest danger to the health or life in Foreign Travel-
ling, at least in Germany, is notoriously from damp linen. A
German-Ofen is not adapted for the process vulgarly called
" airing,'* and the " Galloping Horse," alluded to by Words-
%OYih. in his poem on a Hanoverian Stove, is anything but a
clothes-horse. If you send your linen to be washed, therefore,
you must expect in return a shirt as damp as a Dampschitf —
290 HYDEOPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURB.
stockings as dripping as the hose of a fire engine, and a hand-
kerchief with which you cannot dry your eyes. As a matter of
course, you must look, now and then, for a wet blanket, or a
moist sheet ; and should that be the case, there is only one
warming-pan to our knowledge in the Ehenish Provinces — and
that one is at Coblenz.
Now this drawback would alone prove a damper to many an
English Tourist, who would otherwise go up the Ehine : for of
what avail are all his Patent Waterproof articles — his umbrella,
his Macintosh, his goloshes, India-rubber shoes, and Perring's
beaver, whilst he is thus liable to wet next his skin. In fact,
we believe this danger, more than any sea risk or land peril,
has deterred thousands of Valetudinarians from repairing to
Germany to drink the waters — accompanied by the unwhole-
some probability of chilling the skin, closing the pores, and
checking the insensible, invisible perspiration by putting on humid
garments ; than which nothing can be more injurious to even
the strongest constitution, — witness the fatal shirt that clung so
to Hercules, and which, allowing for mythological embellish-
ment, was no doubt simply a clean one — sent to him wringing
wet by that jade Dejanira.
The catastrophe of the great Alcides rests, however, on the
very doubtful testimony of Greek historians. It is true, that
by our English sanatory notions he ought to have died — say of
inflammation on the lungs — but according to the Hydropathists,
the Strong Man ought to have been only the stronger for a
"Cold Wet Bandaging.'* Instead of cutting his stick— or
rather club — he ought merely to have broken out in salutary
boils, which would have removed all his complaints, if he had
any — for example, one Mr. Rausse names aU chronic diseases of
the lungs, all organic defects, and all diseases in people whose
muscles and sinews are past all power of action, and from whom
the vital prificiple has passed beyond recovery — which said people.
HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURE. 291
if we know anything of plain English, must be neither more
nor less than " Stiffuns ! " And to confirm this cadaverous
view of them, p. 74 declares that these assertions of Mr. Rausse
are supported by a Mr. Ramn !
•6CHLANGENBAD. " IT HAVE GIVKW ME QUITE A TUEK I "
Professor Munde, however, who was cured of a painful com-
plaint during his residence at Grafenberg, stops short of the
cure of Death by light or heavy wet, but enumerates Gout,
Eheumatism, Tic Doloureux, Hernia, Hypochondria, Piles,
Pevers of all kinds, Inflammations, Cholera, Slc. &c. &c., to which
Mr. Claridge adds a list, by the Eeverend John Wesley, of
some hundred of diseases, in man, woman, and child, to be
cured by " Primitive Physic," alias Aqua Pumpy. Nay, we
have cases of Illustrious Patients — Baron Blank, Count Dash,
General Asterisk, the Marquis de Anonymous, .and others, who
292 HYDROPATHY, OE THE COLD WATER CURE.
were all well washed, and all waalied well, — and so far from
suflFering from wet linen, were actually swaddled in it ; and in-
stead of being chilled, actually heated from being put up damp,
like haystacks. It follows that Hercules could not be carried
off in the way supposed, — and especially if he enjoyed such
indelicate health as he exhibits in his pictures and statues.
The common dread of water and wetting seems certainly to
be rather overstrained. We think little, indeed, of the instance
of Thomas Cam, aged 207, of whose burial registry Mr. Claridge
furnishes an extract from the parish books ; first, because there
is no evidence that this very *' Old Tom " was in the habit of
soaking his clay with water; and secondly, because 207 was
very probably the way with an ignorant Clerk of setting down 27.
Neither do we attach much weight to the opinions of the
Travellers, who ** assure us that amongst the Arabs this age is
not unfrequently attained, and that men are frequently married
at a hundred years of age ; first, because the Desert is not par-
ticularly well supplied with water ; and secondly, that con-
sequently the Arabs must be of rather dry habits. But looking
at another animal which lives in the wet, and is one of the
greatest of water-drinkers, namely, the whale, we are quite
ready to allow, as to its longevity, that it is " the longest crea-
ture as lives."
Take courage, then, ye Valetudinarians, and apply for your
passports. Go fearlessly up the Rhine, into swampy Holland,
or Belgium, or wherever you will. Your old bugbears are
actually benefits — real reforms to the constitution. Write on
yourselves if you choose, ** This side uppermost," but omit the
fellow direction, "To be kept dry." You will thrive like the
hydrangeas the more you are watered. Eide outside, and forget
your umbrella. Prefer soaked coachboxes and sloppy boats —
and if you even go overboard, remember that the mother of
Achilles, to make him invulnerable, ducked him in a river. Ask
HYDEOPATHY, OE THE COLD WATER CUBE. 293
for damp sheets, and pay extra for a wet blanket — nay, never
say die, though after a jolly night you find the next morning
that you have slept in a dewy meadow, with the moon for a
warming-pan. If, in walking on St. Swithin's day, you happen
to get under a spout, stay there — it's a Douch-Bad — vide
Frontispiece, figure 4, and you are lucky in getting it gratis.
Should you chance to trip and throw yourself a fair back-fall,
with your head in a puddle, don't rise, but lie there as con-
tentedly as a drunkard, for that — see figure 2 — is a Kopf-Bad.
.Instead of striding over a kennel, step into it, — for it is as good
as a Fuss-Bad. And when a tub of cold water comes in your
way, squat down in it like Parson Adams, when he played at
*' the Ambassador," for that is a Sitz-Bad — as you may see in
figure 3, where a gentleman is sitting, as happy as a Merman
with his tail in a tub, and reading Claridge on the " Cold
Water Cure ! "
And should you experience, though you ought not, any
aguish chills, or rheumatic pains from this mode of conduct —
push on at once to Grafenberg, where Vincent Priessnitz will
soak all complaints out of you, like the salt from a ling. As
the preface says, it is " only eight or ten days' journey from
London," and you may go either by Ostend or Hamburg ; but
the first route is the best, because you can wet your thirst by
the way at the springs of Aix-la-Chapelle, and the Brunnens of
Nassau. For our own parts we prefer our washing done at
home; but never mind us. Push on for the great Fountain Tavern
in Silesia, for depend upon it whatever you feel, whether flushes,
shudderings, gnawings, cravings, creepings, shootings, throb-
bings, dartings and prickings — it is only Nature boring for
water.
Never stop, then, except perhaps for a minute or so to look
at the votive fountain the Wallachian and Moldavian patients
have erected, dedicated " Au Genie de I'Eau Froide-" — never
19
294 HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURB.
halt till you have reached the fftmous House of Call for Water-
men, and pledged the great Aquarius himself in a gobiet of his
own Adam's ale. If you are
faint it will revive you, if
thirsty it will refresh you,
and if you have broken a
bone or two by the upsetting
of a diligence, the very man
for a fracture stands before
} ou. In fact his first exploit
in Hydropathy was with cold
water and wet bandages, and
some little assistance from a
table, to set and mend two
of his own broken ribs !
After that if you are so un-
reasonable as still to require
any evidence of the peculiar
virtues of the fluid, know that by drinking and dispensing it
ice-cold though it be, Vincent Priessnitz has made himself so
warm that he is worth £50,000.
The above advice, it must be remembered, is not ours, but
drawn from the book before us. We should be loth to be re-
sponsible personally for any lady or gentleman going so far off
as Silesia to drown themselves, and by the awfully premeditated
process of taking " twenty glasses of water a day." Neither
should we like to have to answer to a visitor to Grafenberg for
the discomfort of a room like " a soldier's chamber in a barrack,'*
so low that Mr. Gross could not stand upright in it — with no
better furniture than a bedstead with a straw mattress — a chest
of deal drawers, a table, two chairs, a decanter and glass (for
water only) and an "enormous washhand-basin." It would
vex us to have commended any one to a table where it is
CUEL1H& FLDID,
HYDEOPATHY, OR THE COLD WATEE CUEE.
295
generally complained that the food " though plentiful is coarse. '
He might not be pleased either with the remedy of drinking so
much cold water, that there was little room for the solids. And
above all, he would naturally cry out against the heart-burnings
incurred by Mr. Claridge himself, and which were relieved by &
cure certainly worse than the disease.
V.'
A DROP OF THE CKKATUKE.
*' The burning liquid which rises from the stomach to the
throat is often caused at Grafenberg by the abundance of the
greasy food with which the table is supplied. At the period of the
crisis it frequently makes its appearance at the termination of
humours, of which part is discharged by the first courses. I "I
Jiy(i HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURE.
was sharply attacked by it at this period of the treatment, and
* a diarrhoea which I brought on in gorging myself with cold water
during two days completely cured me.* " — P. 237.
Now, it may be well for Priessnitz, who boards and lodges his
patients, to prescribe water by the pailful to prevent gluttony ;
or to give them such beds and rooms as must necessarily pro-
mote early rising and encourage exercise out of doors. It may
be quite consistent with his theory to neither light nor pave his
neighbourhood, so that his clients are sure on a rainy day of a
CHSIST]itAS PJlITIOIIIUII.
Mud-bath in addition to their other ones. But as we said before,
we should not like to advise any one we love or like to put
themselves under his wet hands, unless inordinately fond of duck
and cold pig. Moreover, many points of his treatment are prac-
tised, if not openly at least secretly, in our own country ; and
at a consequent saving of all the trouble and expense to the
HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURB. 297
patients of a journey to Silesia. The damp sheet system is no
secret to the chambermaids at our provincial inns, and the
metropolitan publicans and milkmen are far from blind to the
virtues of cola water as a beverage. A fact that probably
accounts for the peculiar healthiness of London compared with
other capitals.
To be candid, we have besides a private prejudice against
anything like^ a Grand Catholicon — not the Pope, but an uni-
versal remedy for all diseases, from elephantiasis down to pip.
And we become particularly sceptical when we meet with a
specific backed by such a testimonial as that of the Eev. John
Wesley in favour of Water versus Hydrophobia.
" And this, I apprehend, accounts for {infrequently curing the
bite of a mad dog, especially if it be repeated for twenty-five or
thirty days successively." — P. 81.
Of which we can only say, that on the production of certificates
of three such cures, signed by a respectable turncock, we will
let whoever likes it be worried by a mad pack of hounds, and
then cure him by only showing him Aldgate-purap.
Moreover, we are aware of the aptitude of our cousins the
Germans to go the whole way " and a bittock " in their theories.
As Mr. Puff says of the theatrical people, " Give those fellows a
good thing and they never know when to have done with it."
Thus allowing the element to be wholesome, for ablution or as si
beverage, they order you not only to swig, sit, stand, lie and
soak in it, but actually to snuff it up your nose — what ist a
bridge without water? — for a cold in the head ! — P. 228.
It was our intention to have quoted a case of fever which was
got under much as Mr. Braidwood would have quenched an in-
flammation in a house. But our limits forbid. In the mean
time it has been our good fortune, since reading Claridge on
Hydropathy, to see a sick drake avail himself of the " Cold
Water Cure" at the dispensary in St. James's-park. First in
298 HYDROPATHY, OR THE COLD WATER CURE.
waddling in, he took a Fuss-Bad ; then he took a Sitz-Bad, and
then, turning his curly tail up into the air, he took a Kopf-Bad.
Lastly, he rose almost upright on his latter end, and ma/le such
a triumphant flapping with his wings, that we really expected
he was going to shout " Priessnitz for ever ! " But no such
thing. He only cried, " Quack 1 quack ! quack ! '*
MR. CHUBB.
299
A WHIPPEB !«-.
MR. CHUBB.
A PISCATORY ROMANCE.
" Let me live harmlesBly, and near the brink
Of Trent or Avon have a dwelling place,
Where I may see my quill or cork down sink
With eager bite of f*erch, or BleaK, or Dace." — J, Davors,
" I c»re not, I, to fish in seaa,
Fresh rivers best my mind do please,
Whose sweet calm course I contemplate,
And seek in life to imitate." — Piscator's Soko.
300 ME. CHUBB.
" The ladies, angling in the crystal lake,
Feast on the waters with the prey they take,
At once victorious with their lines and eyen,
They make the fishes and the men their prize." — ^Wallbr.
CHAPTER I.
Mr. Chubb was not, by habit and repute, a ftsberman.
Angling had never been practically his hobby. He was none of
those enthusiasts in the gentle craft, who as soon as close time
comes to an end, are sure to be seen in a punt at Hampton
Deeps, under the arches of Kew Bridge, or on the banks of the
New Eiver, or the Lea, trolling for jack, ledgering for barbel,
spinning for trout, roving for perch, dapping for chub, angling
for gudgeon, or whipping for bleak. He had never fished but
once in his life, on a chance holiday, and then caught but one
bream, but that once sufficed to attach him to the pastime ; it
was so still, so quiet, so lonely ; the very thing for a shy, bash-
ful, nervous man, as taciturn as a post, as formal as a yew hedge,
and as sedate as a Quaker. Nevertheless he did not fall in love
with fishing, as some do, rashly and madly, but as became his
character, discreetly and with deliberation. It was not a hasty
passion, but a sober preference founded on esteem, and accord-
ingly instead of plunging at once into the connexion, he merely
resolved in his heart, that at some future time he would retire
from the hosiery line, and take to one of gut, horsehair, or silk.
In pursuance of this scheme, whilst he steadily amassed the
necessary competence, he quietly accumulated the other requi-
sites; from time to time investing a few more hundreds in the
Funds, and occasionally adding a fresh article to his tackle, or a
new guide or treatise to his books on the art. Into these vol-
umes, at his leisure, he dipped, gradually storing his mind with
the piscatory rules, " line upon line, and precept upon precept,"
till in theory he was a respectable proficient. And in his Sunday
MR. CHUBB. 301
walks, lie commonly souglit the banks of one or other of our
Middlesex rivers, where glancing at sky and water, with a specu^
lative eye, he would whisper to himself — " a fine day for the
perch," or " a likely hole for a chub ; '* but from all actual
practice he religiously abstained, carefully hoarding it up, like
his money, at compound interest, for that delicious Otium-and-
Water, which, sooner or later, Hope promised he should enjoy.
In the meantime, during one of these suburban rambles, he
observed, near Enfield Chase, a certain row of snug little villas,
each with its own garden, and its own share of the New River,
which flowed between the said pleasure-grounds on one side,
and a series of private meadows on the other. The houses,
indeed, were in pairs, two under one roof, but each garden was
divided from the next one by an evergreen fence, tall and thick
enough to screen the proprietor from neighbourly observation :
whilst the absence of any public footpath along the fields equally
secured the residents from popular curiosity. A great consider-
ation with an angler, who, near the metropolis, is too liable to
be accosted by some confounded hulking fellow with "What
sport,— how do they bite ? " — or annoyed by some pestilent little
boy, who will intrude in his swim.
"Yes, that's the place for me," thought Mr. Chubb, es-
pecially alluding to a green lawn which extended to the water's
edge — not forgetting a tall lignum vitse tree, against which,
seated in an ideal arm chair, he beheld his own Eidolon, in the
very act of pulling out an imaginary fish, as big and bright as a
fresh herring.
" Yes, that w the place for me," muttered Mr. Chubb ; " so
snug — so retired — so all to one's self! Nobody to overlook,
nothing to interrupt one 1 — No towing-path — no barges
— no thoroughfare — Bless my soul ! it's a perfect little
Paradise ! '*
And it was the place for him indeed — for some ten years
'302 MR. CHUBB.
afterwards the occupant died suddenly of apoplexy — where-
upon Mr. Chubb bought the property, sold off his business,
and retiring to the villa, which he christened " Walton Cot
tage," prepared to realise the long water-souchyish dream of his
middle age.
" And did he catch anything ? "
My dear Miss Kastie — do, pray, allow the p«or gentleman
a few moments to remove, and settle himself in his new abode,
and in the meanwhile, let me recommend you to the care of that
allegorical Job in petticoats, who is popularly supposed to re-
create herself, when she is not smiling on a monument, by
fishing in a punt.
CHAPTER II.
EUEEKA !
The day, the happy day is come at last, and no bride, in
her pearl silk and orange flowers, after a protracted courtship,
ever felt a more blissful flutter of spirits than Mr. Chubb,
as in a bran-new white hat, fustian jacket, and drab leggings,
he stands on the margin of the New River, about to become
an angler for better or worse.
The morning is propitious. The sky is slightly clouded,
and a gentle southerly zephyr just breathes, here and there,
on the gray water, which is thitkly studded with little dim-
ples that dilate into rings, — signs, as sure as those in the zodiac^
of Aquarius and Pisces. A comfortable arm-chair is planted in
the shadow of the tall lignum vitae — to the right, on the grass,
lies a landing net, and on the left, a basket big enough to re-
ceive a Salmon. Mr. Chubb himself stands in front of the
chair ; and having satisfied his mind, by a panoramic glance,
of his complete solitude, begins precipitately to prepare his
tackle, by drawing the strings of a long brown-holland case
MR. CHUBB.
303
into a liard double knot. But he is too happy to swear, so
he only blesses his soul, patiently unravels the knot, and
complacently allows the rod to glide out of the linen
cx)ver. With deliberate care he fits each joint in its socket, —
from the butt glittering with bright brass, to the tapering top —
A WATBB Kai.e)C.
and then, with supple wrist, proves the beautiful pliancy of
the "complete thing." Next from the black leather pocket-
book he selects a line of exquisite fineness, and attaches it
by the loop to the small brazen wire ring at the point of the
whalebone. The fine gut, still retaining its angles from the
reel, like a long zigzag of gossamer, vibrates to the elastic
rod, which in turn quivers to the agitated hand, tremulous
304 MR. CHUBB.
with excitement. But what ails Mr. Chubb ? All at once
he starts of into the strangest and wildest vagaries, — now
clutching like Macbeth at the air drawn dagger, and then
love's LABOUa LOST,
suddenly wheeling round like a dog trying to catch his own
tail — now snatching at some invisible blue bottle buzzing
about his nose, — ^next flea-hunting about his clothes, and then
staring skywards with goggk eyes, and round open mouth,
as if he would take a minnow ! A few bars rest — and off he
goes again, — ^jumping — spinning, — skipping right and left —
no urchin striving to apprehend Jack o'Lantem ever cut more
capers.
He is endeavouring to catch his line that he may bait the
hook ; but the breeze carries it far a- field, and the spring of the
rod jerks it to and fro, here and there and everywhere but into
his eager hand. Sometimes the shot swing into his eye, some-
MR. CHUBB. 805
times tlie float bounces into his mouth or bobs against his nose,
and then, half caught, they spring up perpendicularly, and fall
down again, with the clatter of hail, on the crown of his white
beaver. At last he succeeds — at least the hook anchors in the
skirts of his jacket. But he is in too good humour to curse.
Propping tJie rod upright against the tall lignum vitae, he applies
both hands to the rescue, and has just released the hook from
the fustian, when down drops the rod, with a terrible lash of
its top-joint in the startled stream, — whilst the barbed steel,
escaping from his right finger and thumb, flies off like a living
insect, and fastens its sting in the cuff of his left sleeve with such
good will, that it must be cut out with a penknife. Still he
does not blaspheme. At some damage to the cloth, the Kirby
is set free — and the line is safe in hand. A little more cautiously
he picks up the dripping rod, and proceeds to bait the hook —
not without great difficulty and delay, for a worm is a wriggling
slippery thing, with a natural aversion to being lined with wire,
and when the fingers are tremulous besides, the job is a stiff
one. Nevertheless he contrives, ill or well, to impale a small
brandling ; but remembering that he ought first to have plumbed
the depth of the water, removes the worm and substitues a roll
of thin lead. Afterwards he adjusts the float to the proper
soundings, and then there is all the wriggling slippery nervous
process to be gone through over again. But Patience, the
angler's virtue, still supports him. The hook is baited once
more, — he draws a long deep sigh of satisfaction, and warily
poising his rod, lets the virgin line drop gently into the rippling
stream !
Now then all is right ! Alas, no ! The float instead of
swimming erect, sinks down on its side for want of sufiicient
ballast ; a trying dilemma, for the cure requires a rather delicate
operation. In fact, six split shot successively escape from his
trembling fingers — a seventh he succeeds in adjusting to the
306 MR. CHUBB.
line, on which he rashly attempts to dose the gaping lead with
his teeth ; but unluckily his incisors slip beside the leaden pellet
and with a horrid cranch go clean through the crisp gut !
Still he does not blaspheme ; but blessing his body, this time,
as well as his soul, carefully fits a new bottom on the line, and
closes thie cleft shot with the proper instrument, a pair of pliers.
Then he baits again, and tries the float, which swims with the
correct cock — and aH is right at last! The dreams, the
schemes, the hopes, the wishes of a dozen long years are
realised ; and if there be a little pain at one end of the line, what
enormous pleasure at the other !
, Merrily the float trips, again and again, from end to end of
the swim, and is once more gliding down with the current, when
suddenly the quill stops — slowly revolves — bobs — bobs again —
and dives under the water.
The Angler strikes convulsively — extravagantly — insanely;
and something swift and silvery as a shooting star, flies over his
head. It should, by rights, be a fish— yet there is none on his
hook ; but searching farther and farther, all up the lawn, to the
back door, there certainly lies something bright and quivering
on the stone step — something living, scaly, and about an inch
long — in short, Mr. Chubb's first bleak.
CHAPTEE III.
Happy Mr. Chubb ! Happy on Thursday, happier on Friday,
and happiest on Saturday !
For three delightful days he had angled, each time with
better success and increasing love for the art, when Sunday in-
tervened — the longest dry Sunday he had ever spent in his life.
This short fast, however, only served to whet his appetite for
the sport, and to send him the earlier on Monday to the river's
MR. CHUBa
807.
edge, not without some dim superstitious notion of catching the
fine hog-backed perch he had hooked in a dream over night.
By this time practice had made him perfect in his manipula-
tions. His rod was put together in a crack — the line attached
to it in a jiffy, the hook baited in a twinkling, and all ready to
begin. But first he took his customaiy survey, to assure him
that his solitude was inviolate, that there was no eye to startle
his mauvaise honte^ for he was as sensitive to observation as
some skins to new flannel : but all was safe. There was not a
horse or cow to stare at him from the opposite meadow — no
human creature within ken, to censure his performance or criticise
his appearance. He might have fished, if he had pleased, in
his nightcap, dressing-gown, and slippers.
CLABA MBHBB AlTD LITTLE POOLE.
The ineffable value of such a privacy is only appreciable by
say, sensitive men, who ride hobbies. But Toby Shandy knew
308 MR. CHUBB.
it when he gave a peep over the korn^beam hedge before he took
a first whiff of the ivory pipe attached to his smoking artillery.
And 80 did Mr. Chubb, as after a preliminary pinch of snuff,
and an ecstatic rub of his hands, he gently swung the varnished
float, shotted line, and baited hook, from his own freehold lawn
into the exclusive water.
The weather was lovely, the sky of an unclouded blue, and
the whole landscape flooded with sunshine, which would have
oeen too bright but that a westerly breeze swept the gloss off
the river, and allowed the Angler to watch, undazzled, his neat
tip-capped float. Thrice the buoyant quill had travelled from
end to end of the property, and was midway on its fourth
voyage, when — without the least hint of bite or nibble — it was
violently twitched up, and left to dangle in the air, whilst Mr.
Chubb distractedly stared on a new object in the stream.
A strange float had come into his swim !
And such a float! — A great green and white pear-shaped
thing — of an extra size, expressly manufactured for the most tur-
bulent waters ; but magnified by the enormity of the trespass
into a ship's buoy !
Yes — there it was in his own private fishing-place, down
which it drifted five or six good yards before it brought up, on
its side, when the force of the current driving the lower part of
the line towards the surface, disclosed a perfect necklace of large
swanshot, and the shank of a No. 1 hook, baited, as it seemed,
with a small hard dumpling !
Mr. Chubb was petrified — Gorgonised — basilisked ! His
heart and his legs gave way together, and he sank in the elbow-
chair ; his jaw locked, his eyes protruding in a fixed stare, and,
altogether in physiognomy extremely like the fish called a Pope
or Ruff, which, on being hooked, is said to go into a sort of
spasmodic fit, through surprise and alarm.
However, disappointment and vexation gradually gave way
MR. CHUBB.
J09
to indigiiatiou, and planting the chair against the evergreen
hedge, he mounted on the seat, with a brace of objurgations on
his lips — the one adapted to a great hulking fellow, the other
for an infernal little boy ; but before either found vent, down he
scrambled again, with breakneck precipitation, and dropped into
the seat. To swear was impossible — to threaten or vituperate
quite out of the question, or even to remonstrate. He who had
not the courage to be polite to .a lady, to be rude or harsh to
one? — never! What then could he do? Nothing, but sit
staring at the great green and white float, as it lay on its side,
making a fussy ripple in the water, till she chose to withdraw it.
At last, after a very tedious interval, the obnoxious object
A. LONQ STOP.
suddenly began to scud up the stream, and then rising, with
almost as much splutter as a wild duck, flew into the neighbour-
ing garden. The swan shot and the hook flew after it, but the
little dumpling parting asunder, had escaped from the steel, and
the halves separately drifted down with the current, each
nibbled at by its own circle of New Kiver bleak.
20
810 MR. CHUBB.
Mr. Chubb waited a minute, and then fell to angling again ;
but as silently, stealthily, and sneakingly, as if, instead of fishing
in his own waters, he had been poaching in those of Cashiobury —
" Beci.use Lord Essex wouldn't give him leave."
But even this faint enjoyment was shortlived. All at once he
beard, to the left, a plash as if a bull-frog or water-rat had
plumped into the river, and down came the great green and
white nuisance, again dancing past the privet hedge, and waltzing
with every little eddy that came in its way. Of course it would
stop at the old spot — but no, its tether had been indefinitely
prolonged, and on it came, bobbing and becking, till within a
foot of the little slim tipcapped quill of our Fisherman. He
instantly pulled up, but too late — the bottoms of the two lines
had already grappled. There was a hitch and then a jerk — the
swanshot with a centrifugal impulse went spinning round and
round the other tackle, till silk and gut were complicated in an
inveterate tangle. The Unknown, feeling the resistance, im-
mediately struck, and began to haul in. The perplexed Bachelor,
incapable of a " Hallo ! "only, blessed his own soul in a whisper,
and opposed a faint resistance. The strain increased ; and he
held more firmly, desperately, hoping that his own line would
give way : but, instead of any such breakage, as if instinct with
the very spirit of mischief, the top joint of his rod suddenly
sprang out of its socket, and went flying as the other lithe top
seemed to beckon it — into hep% garden !
It was gone, of course, for ever. As to applying for it, httle
Smith would as soon have asked for the ball that he had pitched
through a pane of plate glass into Mrs. Jones's drawing-room.
All fishing was over for the day ; and the discomfited Angler
was about to unscrew his rod and pack up, when a loud " hem I "
made him start and look towards the sound — and lo ! the un-
known Lady, having mounted a chair of her own, was looking
MR, CHUBB. 311
over the evergreen hedge and holding out the truant top
joint to its owner. The little shy bashful Bachelor, still in a
nervous agony, would fain have been blind to this civility ; but
the cough became too importunate to be shirked, and blushing
till his very hair and whiskers seemed to redden into carroty, he
contrived to stumble up to the fence and stammer out a jumble
of thanks and apologias
HOOKIK& HIM.
"Really, Ma'am — I'm extremely sorry — you're too good— so
very awkward — quite distressing — I'm exceedingly obliged I'm
sure — very warm indeed," — and seizing the top-joint he at-
tempted to retreat with it, but he was not to escape so easily.
** Stop, Sir ! " cried one of the sweetest voices in the world,
"the lines are entangled."
" Prav don't mention it " said the aofitnted Mr. Chubb, vainly
812 ME. CHUBB.
fumbling in the wrong waistcoat pocket for his penknife. ** I'll
cut it, Ma'am — I'll bite it off."
*' Oh, pray don't ! " exclaimed the lady ; " it would be a
sin and a shame to spoil such a beautiful line. Pray what do
you call it?"
What an unlucky question. For the whole world Mr. Chubb
wo aid not have named the material — which he at last contrived
to describe as '* a very fine sort of fiddle- string."
" Oh, I understand," said the Lady. " How fine it is — and
yet how strong. What a pity it is in- such a tangle! But I
think with a little time and patience I can unravel it ! "
"Keally, Ma'am, I'm quite ashamed — so much trouble —
allow me. Ma'am." And the little Bachelor climbed up into
his elbow-chair, where he stood tottering with agitation, and as
red in the face, and as hot all over, as a boiling lobster.
" I think, Sir," suggested the lady, " if you would just have
the goodness to hold these loops open while I pass the other
line through them — "
"Yes, Ma'am, yes — exactly — by all means — " and he en-
deavoured to follow her instructions, by plunging the short
thick fingers of each hand into the hank ; the Lady meanwhile
poking her float, like a shuttle, up and do\vn, to and fro, through
the intricacies of the tangled lines.
" Bless my soul ! " thought Mr. Chubb, " what a singular
situation. A lady I never saw before — a perfect stranger ! —
and here I am face to face with her — across a hedge — with our
fingers twisting in and out of the same line, as if we were play-
ing at cat's cradle 1 "
CHAPTER IV.
" Heyday I It is a long job ! " exclaimed the Lady, with a
gentle sigh.
"It is indeed. Ma'am," said Mr. Chubb, with a pufF of
MR. CHUBB.
318
breath as if he had been holding it the whole time of the oper-
ation.
" My fingers quite ache," said the Lady.
" I'm sure — I'm very sorry— I beg them a thousand par-
dons," said Mr. Chubb, with a bow to the hand before him.
And what a hand it was ! So white and so plump, with little
dimples on the knuckles, — and then such long taper fingers, and
filbert-like nails !
}^:V^
HEX-DAT I
" Are you fond of fishing, Sir ? " asked the Lady, with a full
look in his face for the answer.
" 0, very, Ma'am — very partial indeed ! "
" So am I, Sir. It's a taste derived, I believe, from my own
reading."
314 MR. CHUBB.
*' Then, mayhap, Ma'am," said Mr. Chubb, his voice quaver-
ing at his own boldness, " if it isn't too great a liberty — ^}ou
have read the * Complete Angler ? ' "
" What, Izaak Walton's ? O, I dote on it ! The nice, dear
old man ! So pious and so sentimental ! "
" Certainly, Ma'am — as you observe — and so uncommonly
skilful."
"0! and so natural! and so rural! Such sweet green
meadows, with honeysuckle hedges; and the birds, and the
innocent lambs, and the cows, and that pretty song of the milk-
maid's ! "
"Yes, Ma'am, yes," said Mr. Chubb, rather hastily, as if
afraid she would quote it; and blushing up to his crown, as
though she had actually invited him to " live with her and be
her love."
" There was an answer written to it, I believe, by Sir Walter
Kaleigh?"
"There was, Ma'am — or Sir Walter Scott — 1 really forget
which," stammered the bewdldered Bachelor, with whom the
present tense had completely obliterated the past. As to the
future, nothing it might produce would surprise him.
" Now, then. Sir, we will try again ! " And the Lady re-
sumed her task, in which Mr. Chubb assisted her so effectually,
that at length one line obtained its liberty, and by a spring so
Budden, as to excite a faint scream.
" Gracious powers ! '* exclaimed the horrified little man, al-
most falling from his chair, and clasping his hands.
" I thought the hook was in my eye," said the Lady ; " but
it is only in my hair." Prom wliich she forthwith endeavoured
to disentangle it, but with so little success, that in common
politeness Mr. Chubb felt bound to tender his assistance. It
was gratefully accepted ; and in a moment the most basliful of
bachelors found himself in a more singular position than ever
MR. CHUBB.
815
— namely, with his short thick fingers entwined with a braid of
the glossiest, finest, softest auburn hair that ever grew on a
female head.
"Bless my soul and body!" said Mr. Chubb to himself;
" the job with the gut and silk lines was nothing to this ! "
CHAPTEE V.
That wearisome hook ! It clung to the tress in which it
had fastened itself with lover-like pertinacity ! In the mean
time the Lady, to favour the operation, necessarily inclined her
head a little downwards and sideways, so that when she looked
at Mr. Chubb, she was obliged to glance at him from the corners
of her eyes — as coquettish a position as female artifice, instead
of accident, could have produced. Nothing, indeed, could be
more bewitching ! Nothing so disconcerting ! It was a wonder
the short thick fingers
ever brought their task
to an end, tliey fumbled
so abominably — the poor
man forgot what he was
about so frequently ! At
.\\\^\ last the soft glossy braid,
sadly disaiTangcd, drop-
ped again on the fair
smooth cheek.
"Is the hook out?"
asked the Lady.
" It is, Ma'am — thank
God ! " replied the little
Bachelor, with extraor-
dinary emphasis and fervour; but the next moment making a
grimace widely at variance with the implied pleasure.
FAKCr POKTEAIT. — THEODORE HOOK.
316 MR. CHUBB.
" Why it's in your own thumb ! " screamed the Lady, for-
getting in her fright that it was a strange gentleman's hand she
caught hold of so unceremoniously.
•' It's nothing, Ma'am — don't be alarmed ; — nothing at all—
only — bless my soul, — how very ridiculous ! "
" But it must hurt you, Sir."
" Not at all, Ma'am — quite the reverse. I don't feel it — 1
don't, indeed! — Merely through the skin, Ma'am, — and if I
could only get at my penknife "
" Where is it. Sir ? "
"Stop, Ma'am — here — I've got it," said Mr. Chubb, his
heart beating violently at the mere idea of the long taper
fingers in his left waistcoat-pocket — "But unluckily it's my
right hand ! "
" How very distressing ! " exclaimed the Lady ; " and all
through extricating me ! "
" Don't mention it, Ma'am, pray don't — you're perfectly wel-
come."
" If I thought," said the lady, " that it was only through the
skin — I had once to cut one out for poor dear Mr. Hooker,'*
and she averted her head as if to hide a tear.
" She's a widow, then ! " thought Mr. Chubb to himself.
" But what does that signify to me — and as to her cutting out
the hook, it's a mere act of common charity."
And so, no doubt, it was ; for no sooner was the operation
performed, than dropping his hand as if it had been a stone, or
a brick, or a lump of clay, she restored the penknife, and cut-
ting short his acknowledgments with a grave " Good-morning,
Sir," skipped down from her chair, and walked off, rod in hand,
to her house.
Mr. Chubb watched her till she disappeared, and then getting
down from his o^vn chair, took a seat in it, and fell into a
revene, from which he was only roused by putting his thumb
MR. CHUBB.
817
and finger into the wrong box, and feeling a pinch of gentles,
instead of snuff.
• CHAPTEE VI.
The next day Mr. Chubb angled as usual ; but with abated
pleasure. His fishery had been disturbed ; his solitude invaded
— he was no longer Walton and Zimmerman rolled into one.
"From certain prophetic misgivings he had even abandoned the
costume of the craft, — and appeared in a dress more suited to a
public dinner than his private recreation — a blue coat and black
kerseymere trousers — instead of the fustian jacket, shorts, and
leathern gaiters.
The weather was still propitious, but he could neither confine
his eye to his quill nor his thoughts to the pastime. Every
moment he expected to hear the splash of the great green and
white float, — and to see
it come sailing into his
swim. But he watched
and listened in vain.
Nothing drifted down
with the current but
small sticks and straws
or a stray weed, — no- *
thing disturbed the
calm surface of the
river, except the bleak,
occasionally rising at a
fly. A furtive glance
assured him that no-
body was looking at
him over the evergreen
fence — for that day at
least, he had the fisherv
BUCKS AM> SIKIKKS.
all to himself, and he was be-
318 MR. CHUBB.
ginning heart and soul to enjoy the sport, — when, from up the
stream, he heard a startling plunge, enough to frighten all the
fish up to London or down to Ware ! The flop of the great
green and white float was a whisper to it — but before he could
frame a guess at the cause, a ball of something as big as his own
head, plumped into his swim, with a splash that sent up the water
into his very face ! The next moment a sweet low voice called to
him by his name.
It was the Widow ! He knew it without turning his head.
By a sort of mental claii-voyance he saw her distinctly look-
ing at him, with her soft liquid hazel eyes, over the privet
hedge. He immediately fixed his gaze more resolutely on his
float, and determined to be stone deaf. But the manoeuvre was
of no avail. Another ball flew bomb-]ike through the air, and
narrowly missing his rod, dashed — saluting him with a fresh
sprinkle — into the river !
" Bless my soul," thought Mr. Chubb, carefully laying his
rod across the arms of his elbow-chair, " when shall I get any
fishing ! "
" A fine morning, Mr. Chubb."
"Very, Ma'am — very, indeed — quite remarkable," stammered
Mr. Chubb, bowing as he spoke, plucking off his hat, and taking
two or tlu-ee unsteady steps towards the fence.
" My gardener has made me some ground bait, Mr. Chubb,
and I told him to throw the surplus towards your part of the river."
** You're very good, Ma'am — I'm vastly obliged I'm sure,"
said the little Bachelor, quite overwhelmed by the kindness, and
wiping his face with his silk handkerchief, as if it had just re-
ceived the favour of another sprinkle. " Charming w^eather,
Ma'am ! "
" Oh, delightful ! It's quite a pleasure to be out of doors.
By-the-bye, Mr. Chubb, I'm thinking of strolling — do you ever
stroll. Sir?"
MR. CHUBB. 319
*' Ever what ? " asked tlie astounded Mr. Chubb, his blood
suddenly boiling up to Fever Heat.
** For jack and pike, Sir — I've just been reading about it in
the * Complete Angler.' "
" 0, she means trolling,'' thought Mr. Chubb, his blood as
rapidly cooling down to temperate. " Why, no. Ma'am — no.
I'he truth is, — asking your pardon — there are no jack or pike, I
believe, in this water."
" Indeed ! That's a pity. And yet, after all, I don't think
I could put the poor frog on the hook — and then sew up his
mouth, — I'm sure I couldn't ! "
" Of course not. Ma'am — of course not," said the little
Bachelor, with unusual warmth of manner, — "you have too
much sensibility."
" Do you think, then. Sir, that angling is cruel ? "
*' Why, really, Ma'am " — but the poor man had entangled
himself in a dilemma — and could get no farther.
*' Some persons say it is," continued the Lady, — " and really
to think of the agonies of the poor worm on the hook — but for
my part I always fish with paste."
" Yes — I know it," thought Mr. Chubb, — " with a little hard
dumpling."
" And then it is so much cleaner," said the lady.
"Certainly, Ma'am, certainly," replied Mr. Chubb, wdth a
particular reference to a certain very white hand with long taper
fingers. " Nothing like paste. Ma'am — or a fly ; if it was not a
liberty. Ma'am, I should think you would prefer an artificial
fly."
" An artificial one ! — 0, of all tilings in the world ! " ex-
claimed the Lady with great animation. " That cannot feel ! —
But then " — and she shook her beautiful head despondingly —
*' they are so hard to make. I have read the rules for artificial
flies in the book, — and what with badger's hair and cock's
320
MR. CHUBB.
cackles (she meant hackles), and whipping your shanks (she
meant the hook's), and then drubbing your fur (she meant dub-
bing with fur), 0, I never could do it ! "
Mr. Chubb was silent. He had artificial flies in his pocket-
book, and yearned to offer one — but, deterred by certain
recollections, he shrank from the task of affixing it to her line.
And yet to oblige a lady — and such a fine woman too — and
besides, the light fall of a fly on the water would be so
much better than the flopping of that abominable great
THKEE'S ONE AT MB ! NOW FOE A BITK I
green and white float ! — Yes, he would make the ©e'er of it, and
he did. It was graciously accepted, the rod was handed over
the hedge, and the little Bachelor, — at a safe distance, — took off,
with secret satisfaction, the silk line, its great green and white
float, its swaushot, the No. 1 hook and its little hard dumpling.
MR. CHUBB. 321
He then substituted a fine fly-line, with a small black ant-fly, and
when all was ready, presented the apparatus to the lovely Widow,
who was profuse in her acknowledgments. " There never was such
a beautiful fly," she said, " but the difficulty was how to throw
it. She was only a Tryo (she meant a Tyro), and as such
must throw herself on his neighbourly kindness, for a little in-
struction."
This information, as well as he could by precept and example,
with a hedge between, the little Bachelor contrived to give ; and
then dismissed his fair pupil to whip for bleak ; whilst with an
internal " Thank Heaven ! " he resumed his own apparatus, and
began to angle for perch, roach, dace, gudgeons, — or anything
else.
But his gratitude was premature — his float had barely com-
pleted two turns, when he heard himself hailed again from the
privet hedge.
" Mr. Chubb ! Mr. Chubb ! "
" At your service, Ma'am."
" Mr. Chubb, you will think me shockingly awkward, but I*ve
switched off the fly, — your beautiful fly, — somewhere among the
evergreens."
Slowly the Angler pulled up his line — at the sacrifice of what
seemed a very promising nibble — and carefully deposited his rod
again across the arms of the elbow chair.
" Bless my soul and body ! " muttered Mr. Chubb, as he
selected another fly from his pocket-book, — ** when shall I ever
get any fishing ! "
CHAPTER VII.
** Poor Mr. Chubb!"
How little he dreamt — in all his twelve years dreaming, of
ever retiring from trade into such a pretty business as that in
822
MR. CHUBB.
which he found himself involved I How little he thought, whilst
studying the instructive dialogues of Venator and Viator with
Piscator, that he should ever have a pupil in petticoats hanging
on his own lips for lessons in the gentle art ! Nor was it seldom
that she required his counsel or assistance. Scarcely had his
own line settled in the water, when he was summoned by ?n
irresistible voice to the evergreen fence, and requested to perform
some trivial office for a fair Neophyte, with the prettiest white
hand, the softest hazel eyes, and the silkiest auburn hair he had
ever seen. Sometimes it was to put a bait on her hook — some-
times to take off a fish — now to rectify her float — and now to screw
or unscrew her rod. Not a day passed but the little Bachelor
found himself tete-a-tete with the lovely Widow, across the privet
hedge.
Little he thought, the while, that she was fishing for him, and
tliat he was pouching the bait ! But so it was : — for exactly six
weeks from the day when Mr. Chubb caught his first Bleak —
Wrs. Hooker beheld at her feet her first Chubb !
A I.S6A.L TEKDBB.
"What she did with him needs not to be told. Of course she
did not give him away, like Venator's chub, to some poor body ;
NOTES ON SHAKESPEARE.
323
or baste him, as Piscator recommends, with vinegar or verjuice.
The probability is that she blushed, smiled, and gave him her
hand ; for if you walk, Gentle Reader, to Enfield, and enquire
concerning a certain row of snug little villas, with pleasure-grounds
bounded by the New River, you will learn that two of the houses,
and two of the gardens, and two of the proprietors have been
" thrown into one."»
" And did they fish together. Sir, after their marriage ? '*
Never ! Mr. Chubb, indeed, often angled from morning till
night, but Mrs. C. never wetted a line Irom one year's end to
another.
^grjpT[
iii^p
^Ki
tip
H
j^SI^S
iflSL
SINCB THBir I'M DOOM D.
NOTES ON SHAKESPEARE.
It is singular that none of the commentators on " The Merry
Wives of Windsor," have hitherto attributed to Sir John Fal-
slq/fa. tampering with the Black Art of Magic. There are at
824 NOTES ON SHAKESPEARE.
least as plausible grounds for such a supposition, as for some
of the most elaborate of their conjectures, for not only does the
Fat Knight undertake to personate that Witch the Wise Woman
of Brentford, but he expressly hints to us that he himself was a
W^izard, and popularly known as " Jack with his Familiars.''^
A proof of the antiquity of the practice of letting lodgings, or
offices for merchants and lawyers, has been equally overlooked
by the Annotators. It occurs, indeed, more than once, and in
words that might serve for a bill in a modern window — namely,
" Chambers let oj."
NOTE ON "king JOHN."
Prince Arthur. — Must you with hot irons burn out both my eyes?
Eubtrt — Young boy, I must.
In the barbarous cruelty proposed to be practised on Prince
Arthur there appears to be some coincidence with a theory
brought forward of late years, in reference to the Hanoverian
Heir Apparent ; namely, that by the ancient laws of Germany
the sovereignty could not be exercised by a person deprived of
the sense of sight. Although *' death " was indicated by the
royal uncle in his conference with Hubert, it would seem as if
John, shrinking from the guilt of actual murder, had subse-
quently contented himself with ordering that the young " ser-
pent on his path " should be rendered incapable of reigning by
the loss of his eyes. It was a particular act, intended for an
especial purpose, expressly commanded by warrant, and Hubert
was " sworn to do it."
Supposing, therefore, that the intention was simply to blind
the victim, to disable him from the throne, not to inflict un-
necessary torture, or endanger life, it is humbly suggested to
future painters and stage-managers, that the inhuman deed
would not have been performed with great clumsy instruments
like plumbers' irons, but more probably with heated metal
NEWS FROM CHINA.
325
skewers or bodkins, as the eyes of singing birds bave been
destroyed by fanciers — though for a different reason — with red-
hot knitting needles
•rja.
''my etesI xhekjb's a mouse I'
NEWS FROM CHINA.
Of the genuineness of the following letters there can be no
doubt: the parties are all known to us, and if necessary, we could
swear to the handwriting. But the internal evidence will satisfy
any competent judge who knows anything, by books or travel,
of the Celestial Empire. No corrections have been attempted,
whether in style or in the orthography (for example, Morfius
for Morpheus, and Komus for llemus, in No. II.) ; and the only
2L
326
NEWS FEOM CHINA.
suppressions are of real names, and a few domestic particulara
tDO private for the public. — Ed.
THK MUSIC OF THB SPHKKK8.
Ko T — To Mr, Abel Dottin, Grocer, Manchester,
Dear Brother,
In spite of differings and I must say harshness on some
points, you will be delighted to hear I have at last got a letter
from dear Gus. How it came I do not quite know, but a most
gratifying one to maternal feelings, and I should hope to others,
however some people's prognostifi cations are proved to be in tlie
wrong. But I'm not going to triumph over any one, tho' if I
NEWS FROM CHINA. 327
did, motherly joy might be my excuse, for her pride will rise up
when a beloved son turns out such as to justify my fondest
hopes, and do honour to her system of bringing up. That re-
pays for all. Nobody knows the sacrifices I have gone through
lor his sake, indeed, such as nothing would reconcile to, except
the reflection, it was all for his dear welfare, whatever others
might think to the contrary. I have pinched myself in many
ways both inside and out, and even more than prudence or
health dictated, or even keeping up appearances; but a mother,
like a pelican of the wilderness, will go shabby genteel or any-
thing for a beloved child. Tor of course his outfitting came
very heavy, and I had to part with the Japan bufi'et and all my
beautiful old cliiney to make him fit for the Celestial Empire.
Not to name all his little desideratums, which at such a time
I could not grudge or refuse anything he set his heart on to an
only departing son for a foreign land. As is more than some
people perhaps will sympathise with, but uncles an't mothers.
Indeed, his goold watch and other nicknacks ran rather over
than under your kind thirty pound. Then what with bullock
trunks and regimentals and other items, besides chains and
trinkets to barter with the natives, came to a pretty penny, so
as obliged me to sell out of my long annuities, and has sadly ,
scrimped a narrow income. However I am now repaid for all
my efforts and privations, and only my dne and proper reward
for my own sagacity and foresight in putting my dear Gus in a
line of life adapted to his uncommon cleverness. Some people
I know thought otherwise, but in common justice ought to
acknowledge I always predicted my son would be a shining
character. Those were my very words, and they have literally
come as true as if I had been a fortune telling gipsy. So much
for cultivating genius, and which you'll excuse my saying, the
mother it springs from must naturally know more about than
even the best of uncles. Indeed, you know yourself, to be can-
828
NEWS FROM CHINA.
A CEXTKK-BIT.
did, I always said he was a genius out of the common way,
and was the first to put it into his
head. And now I have reason to
be thankful that I never thwarted
him, as some people wished, but
always let him have his own way
in everything, and the conse-
quence is, instead of his being a
plodding tradesman, or a low
mechanick, my Augustus has dis-
tinguished himself as a shining
character, and for what we know
may be at this very moment a
Colonel, a General, or a Plenipen-
itentiary. Every bodies nevies do
not get up to that ! As for himself,
poor fellow, whatever other people may have said or done agin him,
it is plain he harbours no malice or anymosity or he wouldn't
joke so good humoured about your pigtail. But he always
was of a forgiving disposition, bless him, and a generous nature
besides, and no doubt when he comes back will bring heaps of
foreign presents for all his friends and relatives. For my own
part I seem to see the house turned into a perfect British
Museum, what with great porcelain jars, and little tiny shoes,
and bows and arrows, and the frightfullest staring idols. And
the Chinese make the most beautiful carved ivory fans. So I
need not grudge the Japan buffet and the old chiney, — and in-
stead of going shabby genteel, who knows but I may some day
go to routs and parties, in a rich filial silk, and be fetched home
with a splendid illuminated lantern ? But those are pictures
some people won't or can't enter into, so I say no more. But
it stands to reason one's sister must surely reflect more credit
on him properly consulting nppcarances according to her rank
NEWS FROM CHINA. 829
in life, and handsomely dressed and set oft* as if she had jusi
walked out of the Book of Beauty, than if she had just come
out of Mrs. Bundle's Domestic Cookery — which is too often the
case.
I enclose dear Gussy's letter, of which I hope you will take
religious care of, and not file it into holes like a common trum-
pery business letter, as some in trade are too apt. Some sen-
tences read oddish, but you must not be set agin it by his style,
which to be sure ought not to be exactly like other people's who
have no shining parts. At any rate, it shows uncommon clever-
ness and a good heart. I don't mind owning I enjoyed a good
cry over those infantile Chinese fondlings, and then that savage
monkey ! But some people are of more untender natures, not
having had any family of their own. How would you like your
Gus, if you had one, to be shot and peppered at by a set of long
pigtailed savages, contrary to all laws human and divine, as if
he was no better than a preserved pheasant or a poached hare ?
I do hope the wretches will be well civilised for it with a broad-
side ! But what can one expect from such wicked heathens ?
I only hope he won't be tempted ashore among them, but he's
very venturesome, for if they once catch my dear Gus, near
any of their nasty Joss houses, they will idolize him as sure
as fate !
A full sheet compels to conclude with my love — with which
your nevy if he was here would unite — but alas there's oceans
between. Lord preserve him from that and all other perils by
sea and land, not forgetting the barbarous inhabitants of China
and Tartarus ! With which I remain, dear Brother,
Your aflPectionate sister,
Jemima Budge.
Wisbech, 13 October.
•830 NEWS FEOM niflNA.
No. II.
Pear Mother,
Since my last from the Cape,* I suppose you have
been in a regular slow fever of maternal solicitude to hear of my
arrival among the Mandarines — inquiring at every Tea Ware-
house and Crockery shop whether they have heard anythinof from
Canton, and expecting twelve general posts a day, and. twenty
particular ones with a letter from " my son in China."
Well, here it is at last, warranted oriental, and if it don't go
thro' the parish like the Asiatic Cholera I know nothing about
letters from sons in foreign parts. Of course Mrs. Dewdny will
have the first reading of it and Mrs. Spooner the last, as she
always has of her own novelties in her Circulating Library. I
think I see her with her hands flapping up and down, and hear
her clucking with her tongue and saying,
" Well — dear me — I never ! To think of Mister Gustavus
being where all the tea comes from By the by, Mrs. B.,
you don't want any real Howqua ? — and the ladies can't walk
for their little shoes — Captain Bidding's you know — well, I'll
order Lord Jocelyn — in catty packages, you see, Ma'am — for
the Library — and so Mister Gustavus really is at Kang Tong —
did you ever read letters from the Dead to the Living ? — well I
never ! — dear me ! "
However, here I am — knocking about in the Chinese waters,
not black or green though, as Mrs. Spooner would suppose, but
decidedly yellow. Just fancy an ocean of pea-soup, such as you
used to make at home and then talk of throwing it over the
house, — quite as thick and of the same colour, with lots of
weeds floating about in it like the mint, but whole instead of
♦ This letter never reached its destination.
NEWS FBOM CHINA.
331
crumbled — in short, so like the real thing that I was spoon
enough to taste it; and really it might pass for work-house
pea-soup, only salted with rather a heavy hand.
BHOTINO OFV.
Well, after soup, fish — and Avhat do you think of square
miles of it, as we neared the land, — whole shoals, big and little,
from sprats up to porpuses, with strange sorts never seen be-
fore, all floating on the surface belly upwards, just like old
Parkington's carp when somebody had hocussed them with
Cockulus Indicus.
However, this time it was that old buflPer Commissioner Lin
who had poisoned all the finny and scaly tribes by throwing
such lots of opium into the Eiver at Canton. Even the gulls
were afi'ected by it, from feeding on the small fry, and sat rock-
ing on the waves dead asleep. So the drug really must be as
diliterious as the Quakers said it is — even if we had not come
across a more striking proof of it, — namely a man-of-war's
launch with a middy and twelve hands in her, all as fast as
lops, and as hard to be waked up as Dr. Watts's sluggard.
332
NEWS FROM CHINA.
Luckily there was oceans of cold pig at hand, and didn't we
give it them, as Dibdin says, with the gravy, which at last
brought them to their senses, when it appeared that hearing so
much talk about opium, and finding a package of it adrift, they
had chawed a little out of curiosity, which being an overdose
had sent them all into the land of Nod. On comparing notes
they had been drifted about three whole days and nights in the
^J),
FUOT SOLDIEBS.
arms of Morfius. We got some capital yarns out of them,
telling tneir dreams, turn and turn about, and the middy's was,
that he had been down in Bedfordshire a week of wet Sundays,
and dozing all the time as fast as a church in the family pew.
Poor fellows ! it was lucky we picked them up, before falling
NEWS FROM CHINA. 333
into the power of the pigtails instead of the ninetails — for they
had two dozen a piece on rejoining their ship, but one of them,
an old deep file, took another dose of the opium beforehand, and
so was flogged in his sleep, they say, without feeling it, which
if true, beats somambulism by long chalks.
Well, the next morning the watch reported that the ship was
suri'ounded with floating spars and timber, some being black
and charred, from which we concluded either that some ship
had been accidentally burnt and blown up, or else that hostili-
ties had begun with the Chinese, and which proved to be the
fact. One of our gun-brigs had had a brush the day before
with a fleet of mandarin boats, and of course beat them into fits in no
time ; but with consequences rather inconvenient to the winners.
You know we have in the river Thames a floating Chapel and a
floating Infirmary, but what do you think of a floating Found-
ling Hospital ?
However it's fact : and here's the way of it, up and down.
The Chinese towns are very populous, so much that there isn't
room for half the inhabitants on dry land, and accordingly hun-
dreds and thousands of families live, where you wouldn't, namely,
on the water in regular swimming houses, with no ground-floors.
This arrangement of course prevents the rising generation from
playing as ours does about the streets, so they play about the
deck instead, which being wet and slippery it often happens
that some of them, especially what you call the little toddles,
plump overboard, and would be drowned but for a great empty
calibash that their mothers tie to their backs, and which acting
like a cork jacket keeps the (Jear little ducklings afloat, tOl their
industrious parents are at leisure to haul them out with a long
boat-hook. An operation they never hurry themselves about,
knowing the darlings are perfectly safe ; as well as doing their
own washing, while the young uns from the same sense ot se-
curity are far from particular about their footing, but drop in
834
NEWS FROM CHINA.
and float about as if they were paid for doing it, like the aquatic
actors at Sadler's Wells.
Well, you see when the mandarin boats bore down on the
gun-brig she began to fire away like blazes, right and left, and
one or two of the random balls falling among the floating houses,
the proprietors considered it as a notice to quit, and away they
went helter skelter — sove quipeu, which is the Trench for " devil
take the hindmost," some up the river and some into the canals, —
\ X » .^^ia-w whole Water Lanes
--^"~?i liiirfw^^^r^"~-JL J ^^^ River Terraces
'r' \' \ .jB9,m^J^ i \.i ^ moving off in double
quick, with such
screaming and
howling, they say,
as never was heard.
In such a skurry
the juveniles got
knocked overboard
like fun, some of
the unpleasant or
snubbed children
large families
m
perhaps getting a
kick on purpose ;
however in they
went, plump after plump, like frogs frightened into a pond, — the
brig all the while kicking up a regular smother, and chattering
away like thunder as long as she could get an answer, and
rather longer. At last she stopped firing, and the smoke
clearing off, lo and behold there was not a mandarin boat in
sight — the swimming town had gone into the country, and all
round the ship the sea was alive with little Chineses brought
down by the ebb tide, all floating about with their life-pre-
BLIND TO HIS OWN INTEKEST.
NEWS FROM CHINA.
335
eenrers, and screaming like sea-gulls for their absent fathers and
mothers.
As common humanity required, they were all picked up and
taken aboard the brig, one hundred and sixty-four in all, from a
year upwards, and after a little warm grog apiece, which some
took naturally and others quite the reven-se, the captain sent
them all off in the gig and the cutter, with a white ensign to
each boat. Not that the Chinese would mind firing on a flag
of truce, which they did so unmercifully that the officers in
INPAWTBY AT MESS.
charge out of humanity gave orders to pull round, and brought
all the little innocents aboard again, as well as some six or
seven more which they had picked up in their passage. Well,
336 NEWS FROM CHINA.
when Captain saw them all come back on his hanas, he
looked at them, they say like an ogre, for he thought the bar-
barians had contrived it on purpose, to prevent his fighting his
ship, and he swore, so soon as the flood made, he would heave
the brats overboard every cherub, and let them tide back again.
But when the time come, being a family man himself, his heart
always misgave, — so the children remained aboard, — and there
was Her Majesty's g\m-brig the turned into a regular
Foundling Hospital.
By good luck our commander took me with him on a visit
to the brig, and sure enough she was literally swarming with
little flat-faced Chinese, some put to bed three and four in a
hammock, and the rest sprawling about the decks, each looked
after by a strapping he-nursemaid six foot high, — the carpenter's
nurseling excepted, which being called off to a job he had tied
by the leg to a ring bolt. And oh, thinks I, if my dear motherly
mother could but see the boatswain ; — a great red-faced monster,
almost as hairy as the beast that suckled Romulus and Eomus,
a sitting on a carronade, with a brown foundling on each knee, one
getting up a squall and the other sick, from being tried with a soft
quid of tobacco, because it couldn't manage hard biscuit ! And
then the noise ! — for at least half of the children were screech-
ing like parakeets, I don't think for want of toys, for one had
a marlinspike, and another the tarbrush, and another an old
swab, but by degrees the whole kit of innocents on deck had
set up their pipes as if King Herod had got among them, — and
nobody knew why. Some thought it was at the black cook,
and others said the Newfoundland dog — however the secret
came out at last.
"Forward there!" sings out the first leftenant, "what is
that noise ? "
" Why then, if you please. Sir," says the coxon, " it's all
along of the ship's monkey. He's got so infamal jealous of our
NEWS FROM CHINA. 337
nussin and fondlin the Chinee babbies, that he crept round on
the sly and give 'em all a bite apiece ! "
What became of the interesting Foundlings afterwards, I
don't know to a certainty, our ship being ordered off the same
day to proceed up the river ; but somebody said, that the cap-
tain exchanged the whole boiling for the Newfoundland dog,
which had somehow been inveigled on shore by the Chinese.
As yet our ship had never lired a g-un except by way of
salute. In going up the river, a few shots had been aimed at
us which our commander wouldn't condescend to answer. Our
fellows have indeed the greatest contempt for the Chinese
batteries, which they call their piany forts. At last we got
liberty to return their compliments, and I determined to have a
shy at the pigtails, so I had a gun run out forward, took aim at
a Joss-house, and fired it off with my own hand, — bang ! whiz !
and away flew the ball howling through the air. Where it went
or what mischief it did I have no notion ; but after watching a
minute the captain sings out,
"Who laid that gun?"
" I did. Sir," was my reply.
" Mr. Budge," says he, "you will be a shining character."
" I hope. Sir, I shall."
None of us have yet been allowed to land, but we hope soon
to have a spree on shore. Some of the fellows in the gun-brig
have been into the country and had a famous lark. Such cock-
shying at the China jars ! Such chevying after the natives for
their tails ! and finishing off with a row in a Joss-house, which
they set fire to, after dragging out the Idol, a regular old Guy,
and running him up. Jack Ketch fashion, to the bough of a tree.
If that does not convert the pagans I don't know what will !
Some day I suppose it will be our turn to have a set-to with
the war junks, or an army battle ashore, in which case unless
he gets knocked into the Tiger's Mouth, or is chopped in two
338 NEWS FROM CHINA.
by a two-handed sword, or has a wriggle like an eel on ar U8r?v
sort of three-pronged spear, there is a chance of Mr. Gustavus
covering himself with glory, as well as coming in for part of the
swag. One of the middies of the gun-brig told me that he had
for his own share fourteen tails, three pair of chop-sticks, a
•beautiful ivory fan, carved as delicate as Brussels lace, two rattan
shields, a fighting quail, three odd women's shoes, a state parasol,
and a superb lantern I No bad lot, and says you, wouldn't the
lantern look well in our passage at home, I should say Hall, and
lighted up with gas.
In the mean time our Jacks and jollies are full of the best
spirit, and only want a chance to slaughter the Chinamen like
pigs. And sarve 'em right, they say, for calling Her Gracious
Majesty Queen Victoria a Barbarian Eye — besides which, they
have a notion of their own, that the war is intended to force the
Chinese to smoke and chew 'backy instead of opium, and there-
fore a very just and legitimate business, and even of a friendly
character. Be that as it may the natives do not seem to relish
the sport. It's a very good game, as the hoop said to the stick,
only I get all the licks.
But it is time to belay. Tell uncle Abel, with my duty to
him, he may cut off his queue as soon as he likes, for I'll send
him one six times as thick, and twelve times as long, if I kill a
mandarin on purpose. Likewise a Swan-pan, being quite in
his line. Cousin Eouzel may depend on a Tung-lo to charm bis
bees with ; and Susan shall have a pair of ladies' shoes almost
too small for this world. As for yourself, you would not object
I dare say to a Pow-ka — some of the swell mandarins by the
way are first chop dandies, with splendid satin pelisses and silk
petticoats that would make up easily into gowns — a Chin-tow of
course, and maybe you would like a Kang. You have only to
say which you would prefer, and it shall come by the first ship
and no mistake. I should like to see you in a Kew !
NEWS FROM CHINA. 339
With love and duty to yourself, and remembrances to all
fnends and relatives,
I am,
Dear Mother,
Your affectionate Son,
Augustus Budge.
P.S. — Since the above a native-boat has come alongside, and
I've done a little barter. One of my rings for a fishing cor-
morant, and the amethyst for a regular game cricket.
TO BB COKTINUED.
No. III. — To Mrs. Budge, TFisbech.
Dear Sister,
This is to acnoUige your faver of the 13th currant in-
cludin one from my Nevy. And am sorry to observe he have
put no Date to it which is neglectin what I call one of the three
correspondin Ws, — namely When Where and What.
As for you and me diferin its what we always did and always
shall do like the 2 sides of an Account. Becos why whatever
}ou place to Credit on one Side I set down Per Contra. For
exarapel what you call propper spirit I call impudence and what
you considder generosity I consider extravigance. That's how
840
NEWS FROM CHINA.
we don't ballance. Time will show whose Itums was the cor*
rectest, yours or Some Peoples, a Firm I know as well as if their
Names & Addresses was in the Directry & not many doors ott'
from my own. But its early days to say Im no Profit afore
knowing more of the returns And for all that apears as yet you
may have a bad Speck in your Sun.
As such I am sorry to hear of your Sellin out Stock & nar-
rowin your Incum, partickly as it was under 150 afore, k so no
savin as to the Tax. Also your pinchin Yourself in your vittles
& in course narrowin your Figger in that way too, which is
GPY OF WAEWICK.
more then I would for any dear Gus in the world. Put as you
say I can't feel like a Muther, and am glad I cant. 1 am neither
so soft in the Hed nor so tender brested, like the Pellican you
rite of & which I take it must be some sort of forin Goose, to
go Shylockin a pound of flesh from ray own buzum to satisfy
extravigant bills. And that such is the case is proved by your
own Entries as to uniforms and trinkits and so forth, whereby
NEWS. FHOM CHINA. 341
my thirty Pound have gone it appears for Dux and Drakes in-
stead of buying his Sextons and Squadrons and other nortical
Instruments. What bisness has a yung fellow jist startin in
life with little desideratums ? There was no such things in my
time — no nor bullocks trunks nayther, ony elefants. So in
course thats a sham entry. Praps insted of a goold snuff box
to match his repeter. Or praps for a dandifide sute of Close, to
wear turn about with his uniform, for the last time I had the
pleasure, my Nevy reminded me a good deal of a Monky. Which
reminds me if you want his picter in his absence, there's the
very moral of him, in old Snitch's the tailer's winder, drawn
and cullerd at full lenth, as a sample of the last ally mode. I
mean the one a switching a little refined lickerish boot, as no
man with a grate Toe could get his foot into. He's the very
immage ! Now in my yunger days a respectabel yuth was con-
tent with a decent coat and hat, and provided he could go into
church with a clean shirt, well blackt Boots, and a pair of unholy
gloves. But them was plain Johns, not dear Gusses. As to
his goold Watch its like his impudence when his Uncle have
gone thro life with a Pinch back — and whats more never had a
Watch at all till five ' and twenty. The Cock was my Crow-
nometer. Four in summer and six in winter from years end to
years end. But I supose erly risin was none of my Nevy's
babbits, and till 12 or 1 he would have been letting himself
down by getting up. The later the genteeler, — and I have
nerd of one fashonable reiigius lady in Lonnon who always got
up singing the Evening Hym. However thats your way of
bringin up, namely to give a sun his own way in every thing,
which being a very take it esy stile of edicating to mind hardly
justifies a Parent in bragging of it so much as she do in your
letter. It would have been better praps to have thwarted a
little more, for all his lively parts. My flebit Horse in the
Spring cart is much such a Genus, with a remarkable tallent for
342
JSIEWS FROM CHINA.
Kickin, and not unclever at backin, and an uncommon quickness
at running away. But I don't pve him hisHed for all that,
He would soon be distributing orders at rong doors if I did.
But says you dear Gus isn't meut for a plodding tradesman.
RISING AFTEE THE LAIiK.
He's to be a sinning caracter, as to which it seam to me, from
the letter, my Nevy's cannon bullet went nowheres watever,
and the Captin only intended to say he'd be such a shining
caracter as a mackrel, when its good for nuthing.
As to his Corrispon dance, not having your advantige of a
hordin^r Skool edication, I am no judge of stiles, how genuses
oit to rite or not, but it do seem to me, from my own pickings
ap about the streets that he have much the same flashes of
JSLWfc; FKOM CHINA. 343
Paney as the litfcel dirty ragged genuses that inquire arter strange
gentlemens muthers, and if so be they have parted with their
mangles. Still to give the Devil his do, as the saying is, there
is parts of his letter not so much amiss. The Yellow See reads
almost like filosofy — and the Opuim bisness sounds correct, and
so does the Chiney Orfins, tho I cant weep over them being as
you say a Batcheler, and therefor all the children I havent got
are to be chuckt in my teeth. The same of your own pictur of
yourself which not being a Feraal I cant fancy myself into, any
more than you can fancy yourself into my inwizible green and
drab shorts. All I can say is I hope I may live to see it.
Lantern and all, and dear Gus a ridin arter you on an Elefant,
like a nabob, or a Mandarin, which reminds of his libberty taken
with my tie. As to cuttin it off praps I may, to leave as a
Ugaxnj. In the mean while he may keep his Shan Pan to fry
his own fish in. If he had been reely solicitus to please, a pair
of them noddin figures, such as stands in some grocer's shop
winders, would have been a more likely and nateral present.
1 think now I have answered every pint in your faver : and
have only one thing to add namely trade is dredful flat, and
money uncommon scarse and tight everywhere, which I mention
in case that you or my Nevy may not look to me for the needful
in any dilemmy as is far from unprobable. I have no more
thirty pounds to give away : and as to lendin on lone, of course
it will be expected without sekurity from a Nateral Unkle, where-
as the Unnateral ones always gets something or other if its only
a flat irun for their advances.
With which I reman e
Dear Sister,
Your loving Brutlier,
AiJEL Dorr i if.
Manchester, October the 26th, 1842.
344 NEWS FROM CHINA.
No. IV.— Tc? Mr, Abel Bottin, Grocer, MancJieaier',
Deae Brother,
A violent cold having flown to my chest, I am too ill
to enjoy retorting and retaliating, and which must plead my
apology for not recriminating at more length. As such you
must excuse my not resenting sereatim every point in your last
letter, and making you thorouglily ashamed of yourself and your
unnatural sentiments, I allude particularly to your taking re-
fuge as an Uncle in the Character of a Pawnbroker, and declin-
ing loans to your nearest ties, except on the usual sharking terms
of those moral monsters. But trade hardens every thing. It
teaches to adulterate our genuine feelings with sordid ingre-
dients, and to weigh the just claims of consanguity in scales
that are anything but correct.
Gracious heavens ! where is a sister or a nevy to look up to
for assistance if needful, but to a rich connexion without chick
or child, rolling in wealth, and where I venture to say, every
shilling he advances will be to his everlasting credit! 0,
brother, consider your nevy's propinquity ! Your sister's own
son — and if ever a youth exhibited a decided propensity to get
devated, its him. I do hope, therefore, you will reflect before
you shirk one so likely to redound upon you, as dear Gus.
Already by his native genius, improved by talent, he has arrived
at a pitch of splendour to which few sons rise in the East ;
and of course the greater his eminence and prosperity the more
he will reflect on his relations. To be sure, if a nevy was going
down in the world instead of up, some people might feel justified
in backing him with a cold shoulder ; but where he promises
wealth, affluence, and opulence, rank, title, and dignity, to cut
one's own flesh and blood must be perfect infatuation ! And
suppose a little pecunery assistance was necessary to his exalt-
NEWS FEOM CHINA.
345
ation, ought the laudible heights of his ambition to be chilled and
snowed upon by a cold calculating passimony, and let him be
arrested on the high-road to fame and fortune, for want of a trifle,
as I may say to pay the gates? What's a paltry 50Z. for such
^s^f^'mmfi!jm^Mm:^m^ms^^^^^^
a figure in China!
And that dear Gus has
turned out a phenom-
ena, is plain from his
Dwn account. So great
\ rise in life of course
demands a correspond-
ing study of appear-
ances, — but as trans-
pires, poor fellmv, from
his letter, he has lost
all his linnen and
clothes. Such a mis-
fortune must and shall
be remedied, whatso-
ever shifts I may have
to make, or if I strip myself to my last dividend. For I pre-
sume even i/ou would not wish your nevy to be a General with-
out a shirt, or a Colonel without inexpressibles, and especially
when he has attracted, as I may say, the Eyes of Europe. A
nevy who may some day have to be sculptured, colossially, and
;t up on a prancing charging horse, over a triumphant arch.
But some people may treat such a picture as chimerical,
though quite as wonderful metamorphoses have come down to
us. Look at Boneyparte, who at first was only an engineer offi-
cer, like Mr. Braidwood, and yet came to be Emperor of the
French. Or look at Washington, who from a common American
soldier rose to be king of the whole republic! For my
own part I will say for my son, it has been my constant aim to
THE FIKST OF MARCH,
346 NEWS FROM CHINA.
instil genius into him, morning, noon, and night, and to culti-
vate a genteel turn for either the army, or the navy, or the
church. The last, I own, would have been most congenial to
my maternal wishes, for besides the safety of a pulpit, a soldier
or a sailor when peace comes is a moral nonentity, but there is
no peace in the church. However dear Gus would never hear
of a shovel hat and a silk apron, and especially at the present
time, when, as I understand, the clergy is to go back to their
ancient, antiquated costume, and put on their old-fashioned ru-
brics. As to the law he never could abide a chancellor's wig and
gown, and indeed always showed a perfect antipathy to anything
legal. So far, then, the Chinese war was a blessing, and all has
turned out for the best ; for dear Gus has attained to martial
glory, quite unusual at his age, and if a parent may predict, will
some day be made a peer of, like Wellington, and hand himself
down to posterity with his family arms.
In the mean time I have packed up for him a dozen ready-
made shirts, together with such money as I could scrape up,
namely four sovereigns, a sum, alas ! which will fall far short of
his Pekin expectations, and certainly not enough to let him see
any great capital. In fact he names fifty pounds as the very
smallest minimum for supporting the honour of his country at
the Chinese court, and which most people will consider as very
moderate terms. I do hope therefore, when such a trifle is in
the case, and so much at stake, you will kindly contrive to make
it up, or if cash is inconvenient, by an accommodation bill or a
creditable letter to some banking-house abroad. As to security,
my own U.O.I, would, I trust, be sufficient between relatives, or if
you preferr'd, dear Gus would no doubt be agreeable to your
taking out the amount in tea or Chinese fans, or nid-nodding man-
darins, or any other articles you might fancy. In which case you
can be no loser, but will enjoy the satisfaction of putting forward
a shining branch that will greatly add to our family lustre.
NEWS FEOM CHINA.
347
How he escaped from such awful Waterloo work as he de
scribes is a perfect miracle. The mere perusal almost turned my
whole mass of blood, and made me feel as if poked and stabbed
in every fibre, and squibbed and rocketed besides. Indeed war
seems from his picture, to be a combination of storm, total
eclipse, the great earthquake that should have been, and the filth
of November. It follows that dear Gus must have been specially
preserved from such a concatenation for some brilliant destiny,
which it would be a sin in us to frustrate by any scrimp mea-
sures. 1 do beg and hope, therefore, to hear from you with the
needful, by return of post, in which case I remain, dear Brother,
Your aftectionate sister,
Jemima Budge.
Wisbech, 1 7th November, 18421.
FIBIKG &HBLLS.
No. V.
Deas Mother,
As I expected in my last, I have at length set foot in
the Chinese empire, and am at this moment vmting from Chew-
shew, a regular Celestial Village, though not to be found perhaps
on the Celestial globe. However it is a pleasant place enough,
and woidd be pleasanter if our quartermaster had not quartered
348
NEWS FEOM CHINA.
me with a wholesale breeder of black beetles, for a great Soy manu-
factory in the neighbourhood — a hint which I suppose will set
your face and stomach for the future against that soy-disant
sauce. However, here is the process from the Chinese receipt.
Pirst fatten your beetles on as much pounded rice as t-hey will
eat. Then mash the insects to a paste, which must be slowly
Doiled in a strong decoction of Spanish liquorice. Strain the
liquor carefully, and bottle it, well corked, for English use.
A SQUALI. AT LOKG BEACH.
Since my last we have had several brushes with the natives,
whose first attempt was to make a bonfire of us in the river,
having agreed to a truce for the purpose. In fact a regular
gunpowder plot; but such traitors are sure to split amongst
themselves, and one of them gave our commander the office
the day before. At first the report was treated as a bam.
However, after dark, as soon as the tide turned, down came the
fire-raft with the ebb, and if the pigtails had been content with a
business-like flare-ut) of combustibles and destructibles, might
NEWS FROM CHINA.
349
have played old gooseberry with our ship. But the Chinese are
famous for their pirotechnics, in which they take the shine out of
Madame Hengler herself, so their vanity could not resist a little
show off in the fancy line, to accompany their infernal machine.
Accordingly, instead of the raft drifting quietly down on us, with
a length of slow match proportioned to the distance, we were
warned of it two miles off by a shower of outlandish squibs and
crackers and serpents, cutting away in all directions, and then
lormins: themselves into Chinese characters, one of them stand-
BOCKKT TIME AT VADXHALl.— A PEOMIKEITr FEATURB.
ing, as the pilot told us, for a certain very hot place. Of course
we soon sliifted oar birth, and let the fire-raft drive clear of us,
which soon after blew up in the shape of a great fiery dragon,
with a blazing tail twisting to a point like a red-hot corkscrew,
and spitting a volley of blue zig-zaggy lightning darting out of
its mouth. It was a splendid sight, beating the grand Vaux-
hall finales, or the Surrey Zoological, all to sticks — and except
in one little accident a very satisfactory performance.
350 [NEWS FEOM CHINA.
In the hurry of shifting the ship, the Chinese wash-boats that
were fastened astern of her were all cut adrift, and getting en-
tangled with the fire-raft, our damp linen was terribly over-aired.
Being the first wash after the voyage from England, my whole
stock, unfortunately, was in the tub — shirts, trowsers, stockings,
in short, everything — so that what I am to do for a change I
know not, unless I can turn my blanket into a flannel waistcoat
and my sheets into a pair of ducks. A queer sort of toggery to
exhibit in to the Brother of the Sun and Moon, and the Im-
perial family at Pekin. To be sure 1 have since obtained a few
laurels, and if they were real ones might go to court as a Jack
in the Green — but no, the thing is beyond a joke, and I do hope
that on the receipt of this my dear mother will immediately for-
ward a dozen shirts (fine ones mind) to her dear Gus. For
trowsers, the climate being warm, I can perhaps make shift a la
Highlander, but the shirts are indispensable, and may be sent to
the care of John Shearing, Esquire, Star Coffee-house, Drury-
lane, who is coming o-ut with the first reinforcements and sup-
plies.
Having mentioned my laurels, you will naturally wish to
know where they were picked. After the fire-raft business our
commanders resolved in a council of war, to waste no more
time in chaffing, but to commence uncivil operations, and do the
offensive. So we were all disembarked, soldiers, sailors, and
marines, and after a skirmish or two, brought the enemy to a
regular stand-up fight at a place called Kow-Tan. They were
in great force, and opened a smart fire on us from their match-
locks and field artillery, which are small swivels fastened on
camels' backs, but are frequently so overloaded, that the recoil
tears off the poor animal's hump. On our sides we had lots of
howitzers that kept shelling out their bombs and grapnells like
fun.
Our right was composed of the marines, and our centre of the
I
NEWS FEOM CHINA. 36i
regulars, but we had no left at all on account of a swamp. The
sailors were the reserve, only, as usual, they would not reserve
themselves, but ran off helter skelter to a Chinese castle, which
they took by boarding. In the meantime Captain Pidding got
possession of a tea-grove towards Howqua, while Twining's
company captured a magazine containing about 20,000 pounds
of fine gunpowder, and immediately opened a discharge of
canisters, that made regular Mincing-lanes through the main
body of the TeatoUers. My own post was with a cloud of
skirmishers that was pushed forward to enfilade our artilleiy,
while it made a reconnoisance — but I do not pretend to describe
all the manoeuvres of our army, like the moves at a game of
chess. Some eye-witnesses, I know, profess to have seen every-
thing in an action, right and left, back and front, and in the
middle, as clear as the figures of a quadrille, but which is very
different to my notion and experience of a battle. To my mind
it is more like a turn-up in London, where you are too much
engaged with your own customers to attend to what goes on
over the way, or at the other end of the street, — not to forget
the dust and smother, for the guns and cannons, as yet, are not
obliged by Act of Parliament to consume their own smoke. To
give a clear idea of it, just fancy yourself in a London fog, so
thick that you can only see your two next files. Well, by and
by, the right-hand one, after cutting an extraordinary caper,
suddenly drops and rolls out of sight into the fog, and when you
look rather anxiously for your left-hand man, you see Tom
Brown instead of Jack Kobinson. The next minute you throw
a summerset yourself over a log or a dead corporal, you cannot
see which, and then plunge with your head into the big drum, or
perhaps on a dismounted cannon, with a crash that makes you see
all the gas-lights in London in one focus. Of course, you're in-
sensible for a bit, till you're refreshed with a kick or a stab, and
then you revive again, but as cool and collected as a gentleman
352 NEWS FROM CHINA.
waking suddenly at midnight, to a storm of thunder and light-
nins:, a smother of smoke, a strong smell of fire, and a burglar or
two at his bedside. All you see distinctly is some sort of bright
picked-pointed instrument within an inch of your eye, which of
course you parry off by natural instinct, and then going to work
at random, cut and thrust right and left with your sword, or
pike, or bayonet, into the darkness visible, which goes into
something soft, and comes back red and dripping. That's to
say, if you have good luck ; if not, you get a slash or a poke
yourself, from some person or persons unknown, in your throat,
or your chest, or your stomach, or wherever you like. How-
ever, for this once you win first blood — so on you go groping,
stumbling, poking, parrying, and coughing, when you've time
for it, and winking if you can't help it, the flashes increasing like
blazes, the smother getting thicker and thicker, and the noise
louder and louder, — so that you don't know you've been cheer-
ing except by getting hoarse and short of wind. No matter, on
you push, or are pushed, into the cloud, till at last you dimly
see a sort of Ombre Shinois dodging before you, that suddenly
turns to a real Tartar, painted and dressed up to look like a
Bengal Tiger, and flourishing a great double-edged sword in
each of his fore paws. Of course it's kill or be killed, so at it
you go, like Carter and his wild beasts, only in right down
earnest, two or three more Tigers joining in, clash slash, and
the sparks flying as thick as in a smith's forge, or at a Terrific
Combat at the Surrey or the Wells. Such a shindy is too hot
to last, and, accordingly, if you're alive at the end of two jiffies,
the chance is that you find yourself making quite a melodramatic
Tableau — namely, your bloody sword in one hand, a Chinese
pigtail in the other, and four or five weltering Tartars lying
round your feet !
What followed I hardly know, my head seeming to spin like
Harlequin's ; but I am told that I performed prodigies of pluck,
NEWS PROM CHINA.
353
and wMch, if you do not read of in the dispatches must be laid
to the envy and jealousy of our Top Sawyers and the Com-
mander-in-chief.
The pigtails, to do the handsome, behaved witK great coolness,
many of them fanning themselves with their great fans in the heat
of the action. But, as usual, European tactics prevailed over want
of discipline; and the barbarians having both their wings broken
were obliged to fly. The slaughter was prodigious — our mortars
playing like bricks, and the flying artillery dropping their tumbrils
with beautiful precision into the thick of the mob. The sword
and bayonet, as we may suppose, were not idle, but indulged in
lots of " sticks and strikes," as Miss Martineau says, at the ex-
pense of the Chinese, and turned a great many of their flanks.
The swag is immense : including the enemy's military chest, and
the key of their position, which is of solid gold, and first-rate
workmanship, and is
to be sent home to
England for presenta-
tion to the Queen.
The loss on the Eng-
lish side was trifling;
only one man belong-
ing to our ship being
killed, — a London Bill-
sticker who had volun-
teered with the Ex-
pedition, to get a sight,
as he said, of the great
Chinese Wall.
Well, after the battle
was over we turned, as the song says, from Lions into Lambs,
sparing all such as made signs for quarter, only marking them,
by cutting off their tails, as being under British protection. A
A BILL-STICKKB.
354
NEWS FEOM CHINA.
good many of the natives were also chevied after, and humanely
hunted back to their homes, though some of our fellov^s, it must
be owned, preferred breaking into the villas and Joss-houses in
search of the silver, and got plenty of tin, besides Poo-Choos,
Joo-ees, and the like. Mister Augustus for his share, only
getting a fiddling little Ye-Yin, alias a Kit. The truth is I was
"what fob you hako dk pickaninny?"
too much interested in going after a poor little stray Chinese.
From the marks, it was evidently very young, and un-
accompanied, and the mere idea of a lost child in such a vast
empire as China, would have engaged the commonest humanity
in the task ; the country, besides being full of swamps and canals,
and hundreds of uncovered wells, into which, in its headlong
terror, it might plunge. My heart turned sick at the very
thought, and made me the more eager to overtake the youngster,
NEWS FROM CHINA. 355
while fancy painted the delightful scene of restoring it uninjured
to its distracted parents. But fear had lent wings to the little
feet which I tracked, with Indian-like perseverance, by the prints
in the mud and sand, — on, and on, and on, but alas ! without a
glimpse of the fugitive. Scared by the thunder of our artillery,
it had probably flown for miles, and I had almost given up all
hope, when the trail, as Cooper calls it, led me to the edge of a
paddy-ground (or rice-field), where I caught sight of something
crouching down amongst the herbage. You may guess with
what eagerness I dashed in and made a grab at her blue-satin,
when, suddenly jumping up to bolt, the poor child turned out to
be her own mother, or at least a full-sized China-woman, but
with the little tiny feet of an English two-yeai'-old. Still, being
a female in distress, I tried to comfort and encourage her — no
easy job for a foreign Barbarian, as black as a sweep with gun-
powder, as ragged as a beggar with slashing and fencing, and
jabbering all his compliments and consolations in an unknown
tongue. So as chaffing was of no use, I was compelled to active
measures — but the more I tried to save her the more the little
catty package clawed me with what I can only compare to human
tenpenny nails. However, I made shift to carry her off to the
nearest house, which proved to be either her own or a friend's ;
for she flung herself into the arms of a fat elderly Chinaman,
who met us at the door. The old fellow, whether husband or
father, was very civil, and seemed to twig my motives much
better than the lady : for after a little telegraphing, he politely
set before me a regular Chinese feast, namely a saucer full of
candied garden-worms, a cold boiled bird's nest, and a basin of
addled eggs, making signs besides, that if I would wait for one
being killed, I should have a dish of dead dog. All being in-
tended on his part to do the handsome and the grateful in return
for my services — but which, as virtue is its own reward, I de-
clined
356
NEWS FROM CHINA.
Our victory at Kovv-Tan, it is thought, will end the war, so
that before you are much older, you may look, my dear mother,
to see *
Your affectionate son,
Augustus Budge.
P.S. — I re-open my letter to say that a Treaty of Peace has
been signed at Nankin. It remains to be seen whether the
English nation will be satisfied with the terms, but they were
COME, EAT SOME PADDY.
the best we could get — namely, the Chinese are all to turn
Christians, and to pay off our National Debt. Of course there
will be Illuminations in London, and at Pekin there is to be a
grand Feast of Lanterns, to which the Emperor has invited our
Commander-in-chief, with such officers as he may name ; and I
am proud and happy to say I am set down rather high in the
list. So to say nothing of promotion at home, which may be
booked, I am sure of something handsome from the Brother of
the Sun and Moon, who, like those celestial relatives, is famous
for tipping with gold and silver. But a little of the ready, say
fifty pounds at the very lowest, will be absolutely needful in the
NEWS FROM CHINA. 857
meantime, if I am to keep up my rank at the Chinese Court. In
such a case I know you will grudge nothing, and perhaps Uncle
Abel will come down, in whole or in part. But pray do re-
member that the money mmt be had, and may be forwarded
through the same channel as the shirts.
No. VI. — To Mrs. Budge, Wisbech.
Dear Sister,
Your last of the 17 Instant came duly to hand And
am sorry to note you are too poorly for illfeeling, which in
course I can excuse. In such a case being loath to agrivate,
shall confine myself to Matters of fact which being unanserable
will save you the troubble of a Eeply. — Otherwise I should have
considdered my deuty to set you to rites and partickly on the
subjex of Trade and Tradesmen and their adulteratin and use
of short waits. As to which a honest man, altho he is a grocer,
may be a fare dealer and Tiave as nice senses of honners in his
trade, as a Lord or a Duke who has no bisness whatever in the
world. Thats my feeling, and on my own private Account beg
to say so fur from aproving of fraudulent Practices if so be I
thought my Skales was cheatin I would kick the beam. Con-
cerning which I may remark that some people who considder
themselves Gentry such as Bankers toppin Merchants and the
like contrive to have false Ballances without any Skales at all.
So much for your flings at trade tho I do not care a fig, nor
even a whole Drum of them for sich reflections. Praps if my
Nevy had been put early in life to the same Bisness he mite by
this time have been roUin in Welth as well as his Uncle, which
however I ant. The times is too up hill and money too scarse
for any sich opperation. But at any rate he mite have reallized
a little Mint instead of his Sprigs of Lawril of which I advise
to inquire the vally at Common Garden. But that comes of
358 NEWS FROM CHINA.
your genteel notions of a polite bringin up and which nothin
would satisfy more humbler than a Lord Chancellor, or a Bishop,
or a Field Marshal. In my yunger days the sons of limmitted
Widders with narrer incums had no sich capital choices, or my
own Muther would certanely have preferred me in a silk apon
to a dowlus, and a clericle shovel hat to a shockin bad un with
the brim turned up all round. Not to name a military hat on
full cock and very full fledged with fethers. Also a fine scarlet
or blew uniform with goold lace down my unexpressibles, in loo
of a pair of cordray Shorts meant for longs, as well as shabby,
with a scrimp Jacket that praps objected to meet them on that
account. As for linnin, its enuff to say my muther hardly thort
it worth markin, and never numbered it all. As regards which
its my opinion if you ever see dear Gus again you are more
likely to see a shirt without a General than a General without
a shurt. But its the prevailing fashion nowadays for every
Boddy to aspire above their stashuns, or at any rate to pass off
their humbleness under some high flown name. For exampel
John Burril of our place, who I overheard the other day call-
ing himself the Architect of his own fortune, and he's only a
little Bilder.
But as I said above I am not going pint by pint through
your faver, but to convey certain perticlurs as follows. When
I received yours of said date I was jist on the eve of startin off
by the railway on urgent business to the metropulis. So I had
only time to put your letter in my pockit-book, which will ex-
plane my ansering it from this place, namely the Gorge and
Vulture, High Holborn — N.B. and prepaid beforehand. Being
seven year since my last visit to London and my first regular
holliday, it appeared not altogether incumpatible to treat myself
for once to the piay, which was Theatre Royal Drury Lane, at
three shillings ahead to the pit, the front row next the Musick.
The peace was King John, another exampel you will say of a
NEWS FROM CHINA.
359
hard barted Uncle and a neglected Nevy, and as such, a thea-
tricle slap in somebody's face. Eut beggin pardon it seems to
me that the account
between such re-
lashunships have
never been cor-
rectly stated nor
the claims of the
junior party fairly
made out. A Father
is a father with his
own consent and
concurrants and
therefore only re-
sponsibel as I may
say for his own
Acceptance — but
an Uncle is made such willy nilly whether he's agreeable or not,
as is partickly hard on a single Batcheler who not wanting
children at all, is obligated to have them at second hand in the
shapes of Nevies and Neeces. As such I could not help sym-
perthisin with King John, with a plaguy Nevy of a Prince
Arthur, and an unreasonable Muther, always harping like some-
body else on her son, her son, her son, and to be sure when she
did kick up a dust it was a hot one, like ground pepper and
ginger ! However the second act being over, I stud up and
looked round, as usual, to have a survey of the House and the
company when lo and behold whom should I see about three
rows off in the pit, whom but dear Gus himself! — your preshus
Son and my identical Nevy, — who ought by rites at that very
moment to have been at Canton in Chiney ! What I said or
did in my surprise I don't know, but the hole House, Boxes
Pit and Gallerv, bust out in a loud roar of horse lauffing which
OUT OP SIGHT, OCX OF MIND.
860
NEWS FEOM CHINA.
to my humble capacity was anything .but a propper display of
feelin at such juvenile depravity. However I scrambled over
the Benshes without ceremunny and had well nigh apprehendid
him when a genteel blaggard thumpt down my bran new bever
right over my bridge of my Nose and afore I could get it up
agin, both scoundrils includin dear Gus had made off. Still I
mite praps have ketchd him except for a new Police but more
like an old Pool, who insistid on detainin me to know my par-
ticklers of my Loss. Why then says I it's 30 pound, a new
hat and a nevy, but as he had seen none of them took he de-
clined to interfere. I mite have added to my minuses the best
part of the Play, which of course I could not set out but re-
turned to the Gorge and Vulter to engage a sleepless bed for
the night. But not being bed time I set down to anser your
faver, on referring to which put me in mind to inquire of his
NEWS FROM CHINA. 361
frend sum Keprobate oi course ai ine Coifee-sliop in Drury
Lane and the same being handy instead of the letter I posted
off myself and asked if Mr. Shearing was known at the House.
Which he was. So I was showed into the Coffee-room, into a
privit box and sure enuf there he w^ere — not his frend but him-
self, having only used the other name for an Alibi.
However there he were, with a siggar in his mouth and a
glass of Negus afore him which I indignently drunk up myself
and then demandid an account of his misconduct, Errers not
Excepted. Which he give. So the long and the short is he
made a full Confession whereby it apears insted of goin abroad
he was never out of London at least not further then Hide Park
Corner to a Chinese Exhibition and where he pickt up his con-
founded Long Tungs and Slang Wangs and Swan Pans and
every attum he knows of them infurnal Celestials.
FOK CHINA DIEECT.
As mite be expected his Cash including my £30 was all
squandered mostly I suppose for bottles of wine and smoke,- —
and such little desideratums. His goold watch went a month
ago — and the bullocks trunks as I predicted grew out of his
own Head. So much for a shinin caracter and a Genus above
the common. As such you will soon have dear Gus on your
own hands agin, at Wisbech, where if Uncles may advise as
well as contribit he will be placed with some steddy tradesman
3«2
i^EW HARMONY,
to lem a bisness. Unless praps you prefer him to have an
Appintment in the next Expedition to Bottany Bay. With
which I remain, dear Sister,
Your loving Brother,
Abel Dottin.
London. November the 28th, 1842.
P.S. I did hope to save the new Shurts out of the fire.
But to use his own words they are Spouted and he have lost
the Ticket.
HDLLJlH-BALOO.
NEW HARMONY.
" I'll have five hundred voices of that sound." — Coriolanus.
A FEW days since, while passing along the Strand, near
Exeter Hall, my ear was suddenly startled by a burst ot sound
NEW HARMONY. 863
from the interior of that building : — a noise which, according to
a bystander, proceeded from the " calling out of the Vocal
Militia." This explanation rather exciting than allaying my
curiosity, induced me to make further inquiries into the matter ;
when it appeared that the Educational Committee had built a
plan, on a German foundation, for the instruction of the middle
and lower orders in Music, and that a Mr. Hullah was then en-
gaged in drilling one of the classes in singing.
As an advocate for the innocent amusement of the lower
classes, and the people in general, the news gave me no small
pleasure : and even the distant chorus gratified my ear, more
than a critical organ ought to have been pleased, by the imper-
fect blending of a number of unpractised voi-ces of very various
qualities, and as yet not quite so tuneable as the hounds of
Theseus in giving tongue. Indeed, one or two voices seemed
also to be " out of their time " in the very beginning of their
apprenticeship. But to a patriotic mind, there was a moral
sweetness in the music that fully atoned for any vocal irregu-
larities, and would have reconciled me even to an orchestra of
Dutch Nightingales. To explain this feeling, it must be re-
membered that no Administration but one which intended to be
popular and paternal, would ever think of thus encouraging the
exercise of the Vox Populi : and especially of teaching the
million to lift up their voices in concert, for want of which, and
through discordances amongst themselves, their political choruses
have hitherto been so ineffective. It was evident, therefore, that
our Rulers seriously intended, not merely to imbue the people
with musical knowledge, but also to give them good cause to sing,
— and of course, hoped to lend their own ministerial ears to songs
and ballads very different from the satirical chansons that are
chanted on the other side of the English Channel. In short, we
were all to be as merry and as tuneful as Larks, and to enjoy a
Political and a Musical Millennium !
364 PARTY SPIRIT.
This idea so transported me, that like a grateful canaiy I
incontinently burst into a full-throated song, and with such thrills
and flourishes as recurred to me, commenced a Bravura,
which in a few minutes might have attracted an audience
more numerous than select, if my performance had not been
checked in its very preludium by an occurrence peculiarly
characteristic of a London street. It was, in fact, the abrupt
putting to me of a question, which some pert cockney of the
Poultry first addressed to the unfledged.
'DOJiS i'OUK MOTUJEU KNOW YOD'EB OCT?'
PARTY SPIEIT.
«* Why did you not dine," said a Lord to a Wit,
" With the Whigs, you political sinner P "
** Why really I meant, but had doubts bow the ^it
Of my stomach would bear a Pox Dinner."
ETCHING MORALISED. 305
ETCHING MORALISED.
TO A NOBLE LADIK.
♦
*' To point a moral.*' — Johnson.
Fairest Lady and Noble, for once on a time,
Condescend to accept, in the humblest of rhyme,
And a style more of Gay than of Milton,
A few opportune verses design' d to impart
Some didactical hints in a Needlework Art,
Not described by the Countess of Wilton.
An Art not unknown to the delicate hand
Of the fairest and first in this insular land.
But in Patronage Royal delighting ;
And which now your own feminine fantasy win
Tho' it scarce seems a lady-like work, that begins
In a scratching and ends in a biting !
Yet oh ! that the dames of the Scandalous School
Would but use the same acid, and sharp- pointed tool,
That are plied in the said operations —
Oh ! would that our Candours on copper would sketch I
For the first of all things in beginning to etch
Are — good grounds for our representations.
Those protective and dehcate coatings of wax.
Which are meant to resist the corrosive attacks
That would ruin the copper completely ;
Thin cerements which whoso remembers the Bee
56 ETCHING MORALISED.
So applauded by Watts, the divine LL.D.,
Will be careful to spread very neatly.
For why ? like some intricate deed of the law,
Should the ground in the process be left with a flaw,
Aqua-fortis is far from a joker ;
And attacking the part that no coating protects,
Will turn out as distressing to all your effects
As a landlord who puts in a broker.
Then carefully spread the conservative stuff,
Until all the bright metal is cover'd enough,
To repel a destructive so active ;
For in Etching, as well as in Morals, pray note
That a little raw spot, or a hole in a coat,
Yom* ascetics find vastly attractive.
Thus the ground being laid, very even and flat,
And then smoked with a taper, till black as a hat.
Still from future disasters to screen it.
Just allow me, by way of precaution, to state,
You must hinder the footman from changing your plate.
Nor yet suffer the butler to clean it.
Nay, the housemaid, perchance, in her passion to scrub,
May suppose the dull metal in want of a rub.
Like the Shield which Swift's readers remember — •
Not to mention the chance of some other mishaps,
Such as having your copper made up into caps
To be worn on the First of September.
But aloof from all damage by Betty or John,
You secure the veil'd surface, and trace thereupon
ETCHmG MORALISED. 367
The. design you conceive the most proper :
Yet gently, and not with a needle too keen,
Lest it pierce to the wax through the paper betweeo.
And of course play Old Scratch with the copper.
So in worldly affairs, the sharp-practising man
Is not always the one who succeeds in his plan,
Witness Shylock's judicial exposure ;
Who, as keen as his knife, yet with agony found,
That while urging his point he was losing his ground-^
And incurring a fatal disclosure.
But, perhaps, without tracing at all, you may choose
To indulge in some little extempore views,
Like the older artistical people ;
For example, a Corydon playing his pipe,
In a Low Country marsh, with a Cow after Cujrp,
And a Goat skipping over a steeple.
A wild Deer at a rivulet taking a sup,
With a couple of PiUars put in to fill up,
Like the columns of certain diumals ;
Or a very brisk sea, in a very stiff gale.
And a very Dutch boat, with a very big sail—
Or a bevy of Retzsch's Infernals.
Architectural study — or rich Arabesque — ■
Allegorical dream — or a view picturesque,
Near to Naples, or Venice, or Florence ;
Or " as harmless as lambs and as gentle as dov86»
A sweet family cluster of plump little Loves,
Like the Children by Reynolds or Lawrence,
368 ETCHING MORALISED.
But whatever the subject, your exquisite taste
Will ensure a design very charming and ohasi/e,
Like yourself, full of nature and beauty —
Yet besides the good 'joints you already reveal,
You will need a few others — of well-temper d steel.
And especially form'd for the duty.
For suppose that the tool be imperfectly set.
Over many weak lengtlis in your line you will fret,
Like a pupil of Walton and Cotton,
Who remains by the brink of the water, agape,
While the jack, trout, or barbel effects its escape
Thro' the gut or silk line being rotten.
Therefore, let the steel point be set truly and round.
That the finest of strokes may be even and sound.
Flowing glibly where fancy would lead 'em.
But alas ! for the needle that fetters the hand,
And forbids even sketches of Liberty's land
To be drawn with the requisite freedom !
Oh ! the botches I've seen by a tool of the sort,
Rather hitching than etching, and making, in short.
Such stiff, crabbed, and angular scratches,
That the figures seem'd statues or mummies from tombu,
While the trees were as rigid as bundles of brooms,
And the herbage like bunches of matches !
The stiff clouds as if carefully iron'd and starch' d,
While a cast-iron bridge, meant for wooden, o'er-arch'd
Something more like a road than a river.
Prythee, who in such characteristics could see
ETCHING MOKALISED. 369
Any trace of the beautiful land of the free —
The Free- Mason — Free-Trader — Free-Liver!
But prepared by a hand that is skilful and nice,
The fine point glides along like a skate on the ice^
At the will of the Gentle Designer,
Who impelling the needle just presses so much.
That each line of her labour the copper may touch.
As if done by a penny-a-liner.
And behold ! how the fast-growing images gleam !
Like the sparkles of gold in a sunshiny stream,
Till perplex'd by the glittering issue,
You repine for a light of a tenderer kind —
And in choosing a substance for making a blind,
Do not sneeze at the paper call'd tissue.
For, subdued by the sheet so transparent and white,
Your design will appear in a soberer light,
And reveal its defects on inspection.
Just as Glory achieved, or political scheme,
And some more of our dazzling performances seem,
Not so bright on a cooler reflection.
So the juvenile Poet with ecstasy views
His first verses, and dreams that the songs of his Muse
Are as brilliant as Moore's and as tender-
Till some critical sheet scans the faulty design.
And alas ! takes the shine out of every line
That had form'd such a vision of splendour ;
Certain objects, however, may come in your sketch,
Which, design' d by a hand unaccustom'd to etch,
370 ETCHING MORALISED.
With a luckless result may be branded ;
Wherefore add this particular rule to your code,
Let all vehicles take the wrong side of the road,
And man, woman, and child, be left-handed.
Yet regard not the awkward appearance with doubt.
But remember how often mere blessings fall out.
That at first seem'd no better than curses ;
So, till things take a turn, live in hope, and depend
That whatever is wrong will come right in the end,
And console you for all your reverses.
But of errors why speak, when for beauty and truth
Your free, spirited Etching is worthy, in sooth,
Of that Club (may all honour betide it !)
Which, tho' dealing in copper, by genius and taste,
Has accomplish'd a service of plate not disgraced
By the work of a Goldsmith beside it ! *
So your sketch superficially drawn on the plate.
It becomes you to fix in a permanent state.
Which involves a precise operation,
With a keen biting fluid, which eating its way—^
As in other professions is common they say —
Has attained an artistical station.
And it*s, oh 1 that some splenetic folks I could name
If they must deal in acids would use but the same.
In such innocent graphical labours !
In the place of the virulent spirit wherewith —
• "The Deserted Village." Illustrated by the Etching CIoIk
ETCHING MORALISED. 371
Like the polecat, the weasel, and things of that kith —
They keep biting the backs of their neighbours 1
But beforehand, with wax or the shoemaker's pitch.
You must build a neat dyke round the margin, in which
You may pour the dilute aquafortis.
For if raw like a dram, it will shock you to trace
Your design with a horrible froth on its face,
Like a wretch in articulo mortis.
Like a wretch in the pangs that too many endure
From the use of strong waters^ without any pure,
A vile practice, most sad and improper !
For, from painful examples, this warning is found,
That the raw burning spirit will take up the ground.
In the churchyard, as well as on copper !
But the Acid has duly been lower' d, and bites
Only just where the visible metal invites,
Like a nature inclined to meet troubles ;
And behold ! as each slender and glittering line
Effervesces, you trace the completed design
In an elegant bead-work of bubbles !
And yet constantly secretly eating its way,
The shrewd acid is making the substance its prey.
Like some sorrow beyond inquisition.
Which is gnawing the heart and the brain all the while
That the face is illumed by its cheerfuUest smile,
And the wit is in bright ebullition.
But still stealthily feeding, the treacherous stuff
Has corroded and deepen'd some portions enough—
372 ETCHING MORALISED.
The pure sky, and the water so placid —
And these tenderer tints to defend from attack,
With some turpentine varnish and sooty lamp-black
You must stop out the ferreting acid.
But before with the varnishing brush you proceed.
Let the plate with cold water be thoroughly freed
From the other less innocent liquor —
After which, on whatever you want to protect.
Put a coat that will act to that very effect,
Like the black one which hangs on the Vicar.
Then — the varnish well dried — urge the biting again.
But how long at its meal the eau forte may remain,
Time and practice alone can determine :
But of course not so long that the Mountain, and Mill,
The rude Bridge, and the Figures, whatever you will,
Are as black as the spots on your ermine.
If is true, none the less, that a dark-looking scrap,
With a sort of Blackheath, and Black Forest, mayhap,
Is consider d as rather Rembrandty ;
And that very black cattle and very black sheep,
A black dog, and a shepherd as black as a sweep,
Are the pets of some great Dilettante.
So with certain designers, one needs not to name,
All this life is a dark scene of sorrow and bhame,
From our birth to our final adjourning —
Yea, this excellent earth and its glories, alack !
What with ravens, palls, cottons, and devils, as black
As a Warehouse for Family Mourning !
ETCHING MORALISED. 373
But befbre your own picture arrives at that pitch,
While the lights are still light, and the shadows, though rich,
More transparent than ebony shutters,
Never minding what Black- Arted critics may say,
Stop the biting, and pour the green fluid away,
As you please, into bottles or gutters.
Then removing the ground and the wax at a heat,
Cleanse the surface with oil, spermaceti or sweet.
For your hand a performance scarce proper —
So some careful professional person secure —
For the Laundress will not be a safe amateur —
To assist you in cleaning the copper.
And, in truth, 'tis rather an unpleasantish job.
To be done on a hot German stove, or a hob —
Though as sure of an instant forgetting,
When — as after the dark clearing-oiF of a storm—
The fair Landscape shines out in a lustre as warm
As the glow of the sun in its setting !
Thus your Etching complete, it remains but to hint,
That with certain assistance from paper and print.
Which the proper Mechanic will settle.
You may charm all your Friends — without any sad tale
Of such perils and ills as neset Lady Sale —
With a fine India Proof of your Metal,
24
374
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
Uy^^
" ABBOAD nr THB MEADOWS
TO 8BE XHB YOUNG LAMBS."
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
A SKETCH ON THE ROAD.
' It is the Soul that sees ; the outward eyes
Present the object ; but the Mind descries.
And thence delight, disgust, and cool indifference rise.*' — Crabbk.
"A CHARMING morning, Sir," remarked my only fellow-
passenger in the Comet, as soon as I had settled myself in the
opposite corner of the coach.
As a matter cf course and courtesy I assented ; though I
had certainly seen better days. It did not rain ; but the
weather was gloomy, and the air felt raw, as it well might
with a pale dim sun overhead, that seemed to have lost all
power of roasting.
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND. 375
" Quite an Italian Sky," added the stranger, looking up at a
sort of French gray coverlet that would have given a Neapolitan
fancy the ague.
However, I acquiesced again, but was obliged to protest
against the letting down of both windows in order to admit
what was called the " fresh invigorating breeze from the Surrey
HiUs."
To atone for this objection, however, I agreed that the coach
was the best, easiest, safest, and fastest in England, and the
road the most picturesque out of London. Complaisance apart,
we were passing between two vegetable screens, of a colour con-
verted by dust to a really " invisible green," and so high, that
they excluded any prospect as effectually as if they had been
Venetian blinds. The stranger, nevertheless, watched the
monotonous fence with evident satisfaction.
"No such hedges. Sir, out of England."
" I believe not. Sir!"
" No, Sir, quite a national feature. They are peculiar to the
enclosures of our highly cultivated island. You may travel
from Calais to Constantinople without the eye reposing on a
similar spectacle."
" So I have understood. Sir."
" Fact, Sir : they are unique. And yonder is another rural
picture unparalleled, I may say, in continental Europe — a
meadow of rich pasture, enamelled with the indigenous daisy and
a multiplicity of buttercups ! '*
The oddity of the phraseology made me look curiously at the
speaker. A pastoral poet, thought I — but no — he was too
plump and florid to belong to that famishing fraternity, and in
his dress, as well as in his person, had eveiy appearance of a
man well to do in the world. He was more probably a gentle-
man farmer, an admirer of fine grazing-land, and perhaps de-
lighted in a well-dressed paddock and genteel haystack of his
57«
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
own. But I did him injustice, or rather to his taste — which was
far less exclusive — for the next scene to which he invited my
attention was of a totally diflFerent character — a vast, bleak,
scurfy -looking common, too barren to afford even a picking to
any living creatures, except a few crows. The view, however,
elicited a note of admiration from my companion :
** What an extensive prospect ! Genuine, uncultivated nature
—and studded with rooks ! "
The stranger had now furnished me with a clue to his char-
acter; which he afterwards more amusingly unravelled. He
was an Optimist ; — one of those blessed beings (for they are
blessed) who think that whatever is is beautiful as well as right ;
practical Bhilosophers, who make the best of everything ; im-
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND. 377
aginative painters, who draw each object en heau^ and deal plenti-
fully in couleur de rose. And they are right. To be good — in spite
of all the old story-books, and all their old morals, — is not to be
happy. Still less does it result from Rank, Power, Learning,
or Eiches ; from the single state or a double one, or even from
good health or a clean conscience. The source of felicity, as the
poet truly declares, is in the Mind — for like my fellow-traveller,
the man who has a mind to be happy will be so, on the
plainest commons that nature can set before him — with or
without the rooks.
The reader of Crabbe will remember how graphically he has
described, in his " Lover's Journey," the different aspects of
the same landscape to the same individual, under different
moods— on his outward road, an Optimist, like my fellow-
traveller, but on his return a malcontent like myself.
A. CLBAB STAGE, AND NO FAVOUB,
In the meantime, the coach stopped — and opposite to what
many a person, if seated in one of its right-hand corners, would
have considered a very bad look out, — a muddy square space,
bounded on three sides by plain brick stabling and wooden
bams, with a dwarf wall, and a gate, for a foreground to the
378
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
picture. In fact, a straw-yard, but untenanted by any live
stock, as if an Owenite plan amongst the brute creation, for
living in a social parallelogram, had been abandoned. There
seemed no peg here on which to hang any eulogium ; but the
eye of the Optimist detected one in a moment :
" What a desirable Pond for Ducks ! '*
He then shifted his position to the opposite window, and with
equal celerity discovered " a capital Pump ! with oceans of ex-
cellent Spring Water, and a commodious handle within reach of
the smallest Child ! "
I wondered to myself how he would have described the foreign
Fountains, where the sparkling fluid gushes from groups of
THE HAPPIPJST MAN IN ENGLAND.
379
Sculpture into marble basins, and, without the trouble of pump-
ing at all, ministers to the thirst and cleanliness of half a city.
And yet I had seen some of our Travellers pass such a superb
Water-work with scarcely a glance, and certainly without a
syllable of notice ! It is such Headless Tourists, by the way,
COBiri OBLIGATI.
who throng to the German Baths and consider themselves
Bubbled, because, without any mind's eye at all, they do not
see all the pleasant things which were so graphically described
by the Old Man of the Brunnens. For my own part, I could
not help thinking that I must have lost some pleasure in my
own progress through life by being difficult to please.
For example, even during the present journey, whilst I had been
380 THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
inwardly grumbling at the weather, and yawning at Ihe road^
my fellow-traveller had been revelling in Italian skies, salub-
rious breezes, verdant enclosures, pastoral pictures, sympathis-
ing with wet habits and dry, and enjoying desirable duck-ponds,
and parochial Pumps !
What a contrast, methought, between the cheerful contented
spirit of my present companion, and the dissatisfied temper and
tone of Sir W. W., with whom I once had the uncomfortable
honour of travelling tete-d-tHe from Leipzig to Berlin. The
road, it is true, was none of the most interesting, but even the
tame and flat scenery of the Lincolnshire Fens may be rendered
still more wearisome by sulkily throwing yourself back in your
carriage and talking of Switzerland ! But Sir W. W. was far
too nice to be wise — too fastidious to be happy — too critical to
be contented. Whereas my present coach-fellow was not afraid
to admire a commonplace inn — I forget its exact locality — but
he described it as "* superior to any oriental Caravansery — and
with a Sign that, in the Infancy of the Art, might have passed
for a Ckefd'CEuwer
Happy man ! How he must have enjoyed the Exhibitions of
the Eoyal Academy, whereas to judge by our periodical critiques
on such Works of Modern Art, there are scarcely a score out of
a thousand annual Pictures that ought to give pleasure to a
Connoisseur. Nay, even the Louvre has failed to satisfy some
of its visitants, on the same principle that a matchless collection
of Titians has been condemned for the want of a good Teniers.
But my fellow-traveller was none of that breed : he had no-
thing in common with a certain Lady, who, with half London,
or at least its Londoners, had inspected Wanstead House, prior
to its demolition, and on being asked for her opinion of that
princely mansion, replied that it was " short of cupboards."
lu fact, he had soon an opportunity of pronouncing on a
Coiintry Seat — far, very, very far inferior to the House just
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
381
mentioned, and declared it to be one which "Adam himself
would have chosen for a Family residence, if Domestic Architec-
ture had flourished in the primeval Ages."
Happy Man, again! for with what joy, and comfort, and
cheerfulness, for his co-tenants, would he have inhabited the
enviable dwelling ; and
yet, to my private know-
ledge, the Proprietor was
one of the most miserable
of his species, simply be-
cause he chose to go
through life like a pug-
dog — with his nose
turned up at everything
in the world. And, truly,
flesh is grass, and beauty
is dust, and gold is dross,
nay, life itself but a
vapour ; but instead of
dwelling on such dis-
'THB I.ABT MAir.'
paragements, it is far wiser and happier, like the florid gentle-
man in one comer of the Comet, to remember that one is not a
Sworn Appraiser, nor bound by oath like an Ale-Conner to
think small beer of small beer.
Prom these reflections I was suddenly roused by the Optimist,
who earnestly begged me to look out of the Window at a pro-
spect which though pleasing, was far from a fine one, for either
variety or extent.
" There, Sir, — ^there's a Panorama ! A perfect circle of en-
chantment ! realising the Arabia Pelix of Pairy Land in the
County of Kent ! "
"Very pretty, indeed.'*
" It's a gem, Sir, even in our Land of Oaks •*— and mav
S82 THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
challenge a comparison with the most luxuriant Specimens of
what the Great Gilpin calls Forest Scenery I "
" 1 think it may."
" By-the-bye, did you ever see Scrublands, Sir, in Sussex ? "
"Never, Sir.'*
" Then, Sir, you have yet to enjoy a romantic scene of the
Sylvan Character, not to be paralleled within the limits of Geo-
graphy ! To describe it would require one to soar into the
regions of Poetry, but I do not hesitate to say, that if the
celebrated Robinson Crusoe were placed within sight of it, he
would exclaim in a transport ' Juan Pernandez ! * '*
" I do not doubt it. Sir."
" Perhaps, Sir, you have been in Derbyshire ? "
"No, Sir."
" Then, Sir, you have another splendid treat in futuro —
Braggins — a delicious amalgamation of Art and Natui'e, — a
perfect Eden, Sir, — and the very spot, if there be one on the
Terrestrial Globe, for the famous Milton to have realised his
own ' Paradise Regained ! ' "
In this glowing style, waxing warmer and warmer with his
own descriptions, the florid gentleman painted for me a series of
highly-coloured sketches of the places he had visited; each a
retreat that would wonderfully have broken the fall of our first
Parents, and so thickly scattered throughout the counties, that
by a moderate computation our Fortunate Island contained at
least a thousand "Perfect Paradises," copyhold or freehold.
A pleasant contrast to the gloomy pictures which are drawn by
certain desponding and agriculturally- depressed Spirits who
carmot find a single Elysian Field, pasture or arable, in the
same country !
In the meantime, such is the force of sympathy, the Optimist
had gradually inspired me with something of his own spirit, and
I began to look out for and detect unrivalled forest scenery, and
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
383
perfect panoramas, and little Edens, and might in time have
picked out a romantic pump, or a picturesque post,— but, alas !
in the very middle of my course of Beau Idealism, the coach
stopped, the door
opened, and with a
hurried good-morning,
the florid gentleman
stepped out of the stage
and into a gig which
had been waiting for
him at the end of a
cross-road, and in an-
other minute was driving
down the lane between
two of those hedges that
are only to be seen in
England.
" Well, go where thou
wilt," thought I, as he
disappeared behind the
fence, " thou art cer-
tainly the Happiest Man
in England ! '*
Yes — he w^as gone; and a light and a glory had departed
with him. The air again felt raw, the sky seemed duller, the
sun more dim and pale, and the road more heavy. The scenery
appeared to become tamer and tamer, the inns more undesirable,
and their signs were mere daubs. At the first opportunity I
obtained a glass of sherry, but its taste was vapid ; everything
in short appeared " flat, stale, and unprofitable." Like a Bull
in the Alley, whose flattering rumours hoist up the public funds,
the high sanguine tone of the Optimist had raised my spirits
considerably above par ; but now his operations had ceased, and
A BUMPEB AT PAETING.
384
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
by the usual reaction my mind sank again even below its natural
level. My short-lived enthusiasm was gone, and instead of the
cheerful fertile country through which I had been journeying, I
seemed to be travelling that memorable long stage between Dan
and Beersheba where " all was baiTen."
BUYEB AND CELLAB. — LIGHT WINE.
Some months afterwards I was tempted to go into Essex to
inspect a small Freehold Property which was advertised for sale
in that county. It was described, in large and small print, as " a
delightful Swiss Villa, the prettiest thing in Europe, and enjoy-
ing a boundless prospect over a country proverbial for J^'ertility,
and resembling that Traditional Land of Promise described
metaphorically in Holy Writ as overflowing with Milk and
Honey."
Making all due allowance, however, for such professional
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
385
flourishes, this very Desirable Investment deviated in its features
even more than usual from its portrait in the prospectus.
The Villa turned out to be little better than an ornamented
Barn, and the Promised Land was some of the worst land in
England, and overflowed occasionally by the neighbouring river.
An Optimist could hardly have discovered a single merit on the
estate ; but he did ; for whilst I was gazing in blank disappoint-
ment at the uncultivated nature before me, not even studded
with rooks, I heard his familiar voice at my elbow —
"Eather a small property, Sir — ^but amply secured by ten
solid miles of Terra Firma from the encroachments of the Ger-
man Ocean."
r
PEBB LA CJIAISB.
" And if the sea could," I retorted, " it seems to me very
doubtful, whether it would care to enter on the premises."
" Perhaps not as a matter of marine taste," said the Optimist.
*• Perhaps not, Sir. And yet, in my pensive moments, I have
fancied that a place like this with a sombre interest about it,
would be a desirable sort of Wilderness, and more in unison
386
THE HAPPIEST MAN IN ENGLAND.
with an II Penseroso cast of feelings than the laughing beauties
of a Villa in the Regent's Park, the Cynosure of Pashion and
Gaiety, enlivened by an infinity of equipages. But excuse me,
Sir, I perceive that I am wanted elsewhere," and the florid
gentleman went off at a trot towards a little man in black, who
was beckoning to him from the door of the Swiss Villa.
" Yes," was my reflection as he turned away from me, "if he
can find in such a swamp as this a Pancy Wilderness, a sort of
Shenstonian Solitude for a sentimental fit to evaporate in, he
must certainly be the Happiest Man in England.'*
As to his pensive moments, the mere idea of them sufficed to
set my risible muscles in a quiver. But as if to prove how he
would have comported himself in the Slough of Despond, dur-
ing a subsequent ramble of exploration round the estate, he
actually plumped up to his middle in a bog ; — an accident which
only drew from him the remark that the place afi'orded " a
capital opportunity for a spirited proprietor to establish a
Splendid Mud Bath, like the ones so much in vogue at the
German Spas ! "
SPRING. 387
" If that gentleman takes a fancy to the place," I remarked to
the person who was showing me round the property, " he will
be a determined bidder."
"Him bid!" exclaimed the man, with an accent of the
utmost astonishment— " Him bid!— why he's the Auctioneer
that's to sell us ! I thought you would have remarked that in
his speech, for he imitates in his talk the advertisements of the
famous Mr. Robins. He's called the Old Gentleman."
" Old ! why he appears to be in the prime of life."
" Yes, Sir,— but it's the other Old Gentleman—"
"What! the Devil?"
" Yes, Sir,— because you see, he's always a-hmUng down qf
somebody^ s little Paradise.''*
SPRING.
A NEW VERSION.
" Ham. The air bites shrewdly — it is very cold.
Eor. It is a nipping and an eager air." — Harrdet.
" Come, genUe Spring ! ethereal mildness come !"
Oh ! Thomson, void of rhyme as well as reason,
How couldst thou thus poor human nature hum 1
There's no such season.
The Spring ! I shrink and shudder at her name I
For why, I find her breath a bitter blighter 1
And suffer from her blows as if they camo
From Spring the Fighter.
388 SPRING.
Her praises, then, let hardy poets sing,
And be her tuneful laureates and upholders,
Who do not feel as if they Had a Spring
Pour'd down their shoulders !
Let others eulogise her floral shows,
From me they cannot win a single stanza,
I know her blooms are in full blow — and so's
The Influenza.
Her cowslips, stocks, and lilies of the vale,
Her honey-blossoms that you hear the bees at,
Her pansies, daffodils, and primrose pale,
Are things I sneeze at !
Fair is the vernal quarter of the year !
And fair its early buddings and its blowings —
But just suppose Consumption's seeds appear
With other sowings !
For me, I find, when eastern winds are high,
A frigid, not a genial inspiration ;
Nor can, like Iron-Chested Chubb, defy
An inflammation.
Smitten by breezes from the land of plague,
To me all vernal luxuries are fables.
Oh ! Where's the Spring in a rheumatic leg,
Stiff as a table's]
I limp in agony, — I wheeze and cough ;
And quake with Ague, that Great Agitator ;
Nor dream, before July, of leaving off
My respirator.
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 389
Wliat Wonder if in May itself I lack
A peg for laudatory verse to hang on ? —
Spring mild and gentle ! — ^yes, as Spring-heeled Jack
To those he sprang on.
In short, whatever panegyrics lie
In fulsome odes too many to be cited.
The tenderness of Spring is all my eye.
And that is blighted !
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
AN EXTEAVAGANZA,
CHAPTER 1.
**TlME," says Rosalind, in that delicious sylvan comedy
called "As You Like It," — "Time travels in divers paces
with divers persons."
And thence she prettily and wittily proceeds to enumerate
the parties with whom he gallops, trots, ambles, or comes
to a stand-still. And nothing can be truer than her
theory.
Old Chronos has indeed infinite rates of performance —
from railway to snail-way. As the butcher's boy said of his
hoi-se, " He can go all sorts of paces — as fast as you like, or
as slow as you don't."
25
390 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE,
"But hark! what says a clear bell-like voice from the
Horse-Guards ? — that " time is time, and one o'clock is one
o'clock all the town over."
True, old Kegulator ! The remark is as correct as striking,
time is time, and the horological divisions are or should be
synchronous from Knightsbridge to Whitechapel. But the
old Mower is, like ourselves, a compound being — body and
spirit. Hence he hath, as the Watchmakers say, " a duplex
movement : " namely. Mechanical and Metaphysical ; — the
first, governed absolutely by the march of the sun, and the
swing of a pendulum ; the second, determined by moral
contingencies : the one capricious as the ad libitum, the other
exact as the tempo ohhligato of the musician. Thus the
manifold bells of London — sounding, like the ancient chorus,
a solemn accompaniment to the grand drama of Human Life
— thus hundreds of iron tongues simultaneously proclaim
the current hour to the vast metropolis, yet with what
different speed has time travelled from chime to chime with
its millions of inhabitants — with the Bride, and the Widow,
the Marchioness in the ball-room, and the Milliner in her
garret, the Lounger at his club, and the Criminal in the
condemned cell !
Of these "divers paces with divers persons," there is a
memorable illustration in "Old Mortality," where Morton
and the stem Covenanters, with opposite feelings, watch
on the same dial-plate the progress of the hand towards the
fatal black point, at which the hour and a life were together
to expire.
The Novelist has painted the victim "awaiting till the
sword destined to slay him crept out of the scabbard
gradually, and as it were by straw-breadths. The walls
" seemed to drop with blood, and the light tick of tlie clock
thrilled en his ear with such loud painful distinctness, as if
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 391
each sound were the prick of a bodkin iniiicted on the naked
nerve of the organ."
Here then was one of those persons whom Time gallops
withal, whereas to the bloodthirsty Fanatics he crept on so
leisurely, that Impatience could not refrain from giving the
laggard a thrust forward on his course.
In our Courts of Law, Civil and Criminal, the divers paces
of Time are continually exemplified, and have been verified
on oath by scores of respectable witnesses.
For example : there was once a ^ murder committed at
Tottenham ; and on the trial of the assassin, it became a
point of judicial importance to determine the exact interval
between two distant pistol-shots.
" Five minutes ! " deposed Miss White, who had passed
the evening in question tete-ti-tHe with her aflQanced sweet-
heart.
"Fifteen," swore Mrs. Black, who had spent the same
hours in vainly expecting a husband addicted to the ale-
house.
"Bless my soul and body!" exclaimed the Judge,
naturally astonished at such a wide discrepancy ; " the
clocks in that part of the country must be sadly in want
of regulation I
But his lordship himself was in error. The material
wheels, springs, pendulums, and weights, worked truly
enough ; it was the moral machinery that was accountable
for the variation. The rectification, however, was at hand.
The suburban village of Tottenham swarms, as is well
known, with resident Members of the Society of Friends —
a sect remarkable for punctuality, and the preciseness and
uniformity of their habits — whose lives flow as equably as
the sand of the hour-glass — whose pulses beat with the
regularity of the pendulum. Accordingly, five Quakers who
392 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
had heard the shots, were examined as witnesses ; and, on
their several affirmations, gave the interval between the two
reports with little more variation than so many Admiralty
Chronometers. As thus :
Min. Sec
Obadiah .... 9 69 '
Jacob 9 58
Ephraim .... 9 f9
Joseph 9 59
Samuel .... 9 68
Being actually the juste milieu, or a drab average, between
the extreme statements of Black and White.
CHAPTER n.
But to my personal experiences.
Like my fellow-mortals in fair Rosalindts catalogue, I hare
found Time to resemble both the Hare and the Tortoise,
sometimes as fleet as the quadruped, at others as slow as
the reptile in his race. Many bright and brief days recur
to my memory when he flew past with the speed of a flying
Childers, many dark and long ones, when he stepped as
heavily and deliberately as the black horse before a hearse.
All his divers paces are familiar to me — ^he has galloped,
trotted, ambled, walked with me, and on one memorable
occasion, seemed almost to stand stock-still. Never, oh,
never can I forget the day-long seconds which made up
those monthlike minutes, which composed that interminable
Hour — the longest in my whole life !
'* And pray, sir, how and when was that ? "
For the when, madam, to be particular, it was from half-
past nine to half-past ten o'clock, a.m., on the First of May,
new style, Anno Domini, 1822. For the how, you shall hear.
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 393
At the date just mentioned my residence was in the
Adelphi, and having a strong partiality for the study of
Natural History from living specimens, it suited both my
convenience and my taste to drop in frequently at the
menagerie at Exeter 'Change.
These visits were generally paid at an early hour, before
town or country cousins called to see the lions, and indeed it
frequently happened that I found myself quite alone with
the wild beasts. An annual guinea entitled me to go as
often as agreeable, which happened so frequently, that the
animals soon knew me by sight, whilst with some of them,
for instance the elephant,* I obtained quite a friendly
footing. Even Nero looked kindly on me, and the rest of
the creatures did not eye me with the glances half shy and
half savage which they threw at less familiar visitors.
But there was one notable exception. The royal Bengal
tiger could not or would not recognise me, but persisted in
growling and scowling at me as a stranger, whom of course
he longed to take in. Nevertheless there was a fascination
in his terrible beauty, and even in his enmity, that often
held me in front of his cage, enjoying the very impotence
of his malice, and recalling various tragical tales of himian
victims mangled or devoured by such striped monsters as
the one before me ; and, as if the cunning brute penetrated
my thoughts, he would rehearse as it were all the man-eating
manoeuvres of the species : now creeping stealthily round his
den, as if skulking through his native jungles, then crouching
for the fatal spring, and anon bounding against the bars of
his cage, with a short, angry roar, expressive of the most
* This same elephant once nearly killed an Irishman, for an msult
oflfered to his trunk. The act was rash in the extreme ; "but it was
impossible," the Hibernian said, "to resist a nose you could pull with
both hands."
394 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
fiendish malignity. By-the-bye, madam, did you ever hear
of the doctrine of Instinctive Antipathies 1
"Yes, sir; and Mr. Lamb or Mr. Hazlitt quotes an
instance of two strangers, who on meeting each other in
the street immediately began to fight."
Well, madam, there seemed to be some such original
antipathy between me and the tiger. At any rate he took
peculiar pleasure in my presence in ostentatiously parading
his means of offence. Sometimes stretching out one huge
muscular leg between the bars, he unsheathed and exhibited
his tremendous claws, after which, with a devilish ogre-like
grm, be displayed his formidable teeth, and then by a
deliberate yawn indulged me with a look into that horrible
red gulf, down which he would fain have bolted me m gobbets.
The yawning jaws were invariably closed with a ferocious
snap, and the brutal performance was wound up with a howl
so unutterably hollow and awful, so cannibal ish, tnat even
at its hundredth repetition it still curdled my very blood, and
thrilled every nerve in my body.
" Lord ! what a dreadful creature ! "
Very, ma'am. And yet that Carnivorous Monster, capable
of appalling the heart of the bravest man, ffiiled once to
strike terror into one of the weakest of the species — a
delicate little girl, of about six years old, and rather small
for her age. She had been gazing at the Tiger very earnestly
for some minutes, and what do you think she said ]
" Pray what, sir ? "
"Oh, Mr. Cross, if ever that beautiful great pussy has
young ones, do save me a kitten ! '*
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 395
CHAPTER III.
Apropos of Time and his divers paces, he notoriously goes
very slowly — as Sterne vouches — with a solitary captive, and
of all solitary captives methinks he must go slowest with a
caged wild beast. The human prisoner gifted with a mind,
can beguile the weary hours with dreams of the past or
future — if of an intellectual turn, and educated, he can
amuse himself with philosophical speculations, or mathe-
matical calculations. He may even indulge in poetical
composition. But a beast, a stupid, ignorant beast, has
no such mental resources. If he struck a lyre it would be
to immortal smash. Neither would it be of any avail to
supply him with materials for those various handicrafts by
the exercise of which the Philadelphian Solitaries, described
by Dickens, contrived to lose and neglect the creeping foot
of time in their confinement. A lion, if furnished with the
whole stock of a marine-store shop, would never " manufac-
ture a sort of Dutch clock from disregarded odds and ends,"
with a vinegar-bottle for the pendulum : neither would a
tiger appear "in a white paper hat of his own making,"
though expressly provided with stationery for the purpose,
from her Majesty's own office. It follows that wild animals
in confinement must experience great weariness — in fact,
they obviously do suffer from ennui in no common degree.
" How, sir 1 A vulgar, ill-bred wild beast, afflicted with
the peculiar complaint of a woman of ton — of a lady of
quality 1 "
Precisely, madam. There is a case on record of a laoness
with all the symptoms of the complaint, and of her adoption
of that fashionable antidote, a lapdog.
396 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
A lapdog ! What, a dear little King Charles's spaniel ? *
" No, but a little terrier, which the Lioness in a natural
state of health would have devoured on his first introduction,
whereas being troubled with the vapours, she could not
dispense with a plaything that happened to amuse her.
" A Lioness with the vapours, and a lapdog — ridiculous ! '*
Madam, I am in earnest, severely serious. But just do
me the honour to step with me, in fancy, to the Zoological
Gardens. There — look at that Lioness. How indolently
she stretches herself — how listlessly she rolls her head and
half closes her languid eyes ! Then what distressing yawns,
as if for a change she would turn herself inside out !
" Rather like ennui, I confess."
No doubt of it. Now look at yonder moping Lion, too
apathetic even to glance at us. Look at his head between
his knees, and his tail — that formidable tail, furnished at
the end, as naturalists tell us, with a kind of prickle, so that
he can spur as well as lash himself into a hasty fit — lying as
idle and still as a torpid snake. Did you ever see an attitude
more expressive of lassitude ? and yet he hath but taken a
few turns round his den, and given one roar since sunrise.
All he cares is to blink, and gape, and doze, through the long
hours till supper-time. Yonder again is a female Puma,
with head drooping and closed eyes, uttering at intervals an
inward groan, as palpable a sufferer from world-weariness as
^lariana at the Moated Grange. The panthers, leopards,
ounces, jaguai-s, and the smaller cats, from constitutional
irritability, are somewhat more active, or rather restless;
but it is only another mode of expressing the same
thing. One and all are labouring under tedium vitce so
intensely that it is a wonder they have never discovered
self-murder ! In fact Chuny, the elephant who was shot for
attempting to break out of his prison, is said, after receiving
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 397
many musket-balls, to have knelt down at the command of
his keeper, and to have presented his head with suicidal
docility to the marksmen.
"Their lives, poor things, must indeed be very mono-
tonous ! "
Miserably so, madam, and their hours like ages! No
amusement, no employment to shorten them ! One can
fancy Time himself looking in at the Beasts through the
iron lattices, and tauntingly whispering, " Ah, ah ! with all
your murderous paws, and claws, and jaws, you cannot kill
ME!"
" One may, indeed ; but now, if you please, sir, we will go.
My own spirits begin to flag, and a sort of lassitude comes
over me : I presume from example and the influence of the
place."
Beyond question, madam. There was a case in point.
My friend H., the well-known artist, once had occasion to
take the portrait of a Lion in the Tower Menagerie ; but he
went so frequently, and required such long sittings, that,
knowing the usual facility of his pencil, I became curious to
learn the cause.
" Why, the truth is," said H., " if I could only have kept
my spirits up and my eyes open, the thing would have been
done in a tithe of the time ; but what with the dejection and
drowsiness of the beasts, and their continual gaping, I was
so infected with their dulness that after the first ten minutes
I invariably began to blink and yawn too, and soon fell
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
CHAPTER IV.
"Huzza!*
My dear sir —
" Huzza ! huzza ! *
My dear sirs —
" Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! '*
Gentlemen — Ladies — Boys — Girls — ^good people do allow
me to ask the reason of such vociferous cheering 1
" The Baron for ever ! "
Eh?
" The Doctor for ever ! "
Whom ?
" The thing with a hard name for ever ! "
What Baron — what Doctor ? — what thing witn a hard
name 'i
" What thing 1 Why, Som-nam-bam-boozle-fusili?m, to be
sure. The animal sent the painter to sleep, didn't he 1"
Yes.
" And ain't that animal Magnetism 1 "
Yes, yes — certainly, yes — as clear a case of Mesmerism as
ever I met with 1
CHAPTEH V.
On the morning of the first of May, 1822, between nine
and ten o'clock, I entered the menagerie of Exeter 'Change,
and walked directly as usual into the great room appro-
priated to the larger animals. There was no person visible,
keeper or visitor, about the place — like Alexander Selkirk,
t
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 399
• • I was Lord of the Fowl and the Brute." I had the lions
all to myself. As I stepped through the doors my eyes
mechanically turned towards the den of my old enemy, the
royal Bengal tiger, fully expecting to receive from him the
customary salutes of a spiteful grin and growl. But the
husky voice was silent, the grim face was nowhere to be seen.
The cage was empty !
My feeling on the discovery was a mixed one of relief and
disappointment. — Methought I breathed more freely from
the removal of that vague apprehension which had always
clung to me, like a presentiment of injury sooner or later
from the savage beast. A few minutes, nevertheless, spent in
walking about the room, convinced me that his departure
had left a void never properly to be filled up» Another
royal tiger, larger even, and as ferocious, might take his
place — but it was unlikely that the new tenant would ever
select me for that marked and personal animosity which had
almost led me at times to believe that we inherited some
ancient feud from our respective progenitors. An enemy as
well as a friend of old standing, though not lamented, must
be missed. It must be a loss, if not to affection, to memory
a;nd association, to be deprived of even the ill-will, the frown
or sneer of an old familiar face, and the brute was, at any
rate, " a good hater." There was something piquant, if not
flattering, in being selected for his exclusive malignity. But
he was gone, and the menagerie had henceforward lost,
for me, a portion of its interest. But stop — there is a Gentle
Reader in an ungentle hurry to expostulate.
*' What ! — sorry for a nasty, vicious wild beast, as owed
you a grudge for nothing at all, and only wanted an oppor-
tunity to spit his spite 1 "
Exactly so, madam. The case is far from uncommon.
Nay, I once knew a foreign gentleman in a very similar
400 THE LONGEST HOUR lUi MY LIFE.
predicament. From his German reading, helped by an
appropriate style of feeding, the stomach of his imagination
had become so stuffed and overloaded with Zamiels, Brocken
Witches, Hobgoblins, Vampires, Were Wolves, Incubi, and
other devilries, that for years he never passed a night with-
out what we call bad dreams. Well, I had not seen him for
some months, when at last he called upon me, looking so
wobegone and out of spirits, as to make me inquire rather
anxiously about his health. He shook his head dejectedly,
sighed deeply, laid his hand on his chest, as if about to com-
plain of it, and in a broken voice and broken English, informed
me of his case.
" 0, my goot fellow, I am miserable quite. Dere is some-
ting all wrong in me — someting very bad — I have not had
de Night-Mare for tree weeks."
"Well, after that, sir, I can swallow the tiger. So pray
go on.'*
After the first surprise was over, my curiosity became
excited, and I began to speculate on the causes of the
creature's absence. Was he dead ? Had he been destroyed
for his ferocity, or parted with to make room for a milder
specimen of the species 1 Had he gone to perform in the
legitimate drama — or taken French leave? I was looking
round for somebody to answer these queries, when all at
once I descried an object that made me feel Hke a man
suddenly blasted with a thunderbolt.
" Mercy on us ! You don't mean to say that it was the
Tiger?"
I do. Huddled up in a dark comer of the room he had
been overlooked by me on my entrance, and cunningly sup-
pressing his usual snarl of recognition, the treacherous beast
had proceeded to intercept my retreat. At my first glimpse
of him he was skulking along, close to the wall, in the
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 401
direction of the door. Had I possessed the full power of
motion he must have arrived there first — but terror riveted
me to the spot. There I stood, all my faculties frozen up,
dizzy, motionless, and dumb. Could I have cried out, my
last breath of life would certainly have escaped from me in
one long, shrill scream. But it was pent up in my bosom,
where my heart, after one mighty bound upwards, was
fluttering like a scared bird. There was a feeling of deadly
choking at my throat, of mortal sickness at my stomach.
My tongue in an instant had become stiff and parched — my
jaw locked — my eyes fixed in their sockets, and, from the
rush of blood, seemed looking through a reddish mist, whilst
within my head a whizzing noise struck up that rendered me
utterly incapable of thought or comprehension. Such, as
far as I can recollect, was my condition, which, from the
symptoms, I should say, was very similar to a combined
attack of apoplexy and paralysis.
This state, however, did not last. At first, every limb and
joint had suddenly stiffened, rigid as cast iron : my very
flesh, with the. blood in its veins, had congealed into marble :
but after a few seconds, the muscles as abruptly relaxed, the
joints gave way, the blood thawed and seemed escaping from
the vessels, the substance of my body seemed losmg its
solidity, and with an inexpressible sense of its imbecility, I
felt as if my whole frame would fall in a shapeless mass on
the floor.
" Gracious goodness — how dreadful ! "
The Tiger in the interim, having gained the door, had
crouched down — cat-like — his back curved inwards, his face
between his fore-paws, and with his glaring eyeballs steadily
fixed on mine, was creeping on his belly by half-inches
towards me, his tail meanwhile working from side to side
behind him, and as it were scalling him on.
402 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
In another moment this movement ceased, the tail
straightened itself out, except the tip, which turned up, and
became nervously agitated, a warning as certain as the like
signal from an enraged rattlesnake.
There was no time to be lost. A providential inspiration,
a direct whisper, as it were, from heaven, reminded me of the
empty cage, and suggested, with lightning rapidity, that the
same massive bars which had formerly kept the Man Eater
within, might now keep him out. In another instant I was
within the den, had pulled to the door, and shot the heavy
bolt. The Tiger foiled by the suddenness of this unexpected
manoeuvre, immediately rose from his couchant position, and
after violently lashing each flank with his tail, gave vent to
his dissatisfaction in a prolonged inward grumble, that
sounded like distant thunder. But he did not long deliberate
on his course : to my infinite horror, I saw him approach
the den, where rearing on his hind legs, in the attitude the
heralds call rampant, he gave a tremendous roar, which made
my blood curdle, and then resting his fore-paws on the front
of the cage, with his huge, hideous face pressed against the
bars, he stared at me a long, long stare, with two red fiery
eyes, that alternately gloomed and sparkled like burning
coals.
" And didn't the Tiger, sir, poke his great claws, sir, into
the cage, sir, and pick you out, sir, bit by bit, sir, between
the bars?"
Patience, my dear little fellow, patience. Since the
Creation, perhaps, a Man and a Wild Beast, literally
changing places, were never before placed in such an anoma-
lous position : and in these days of dullness, and a dearth of
dramatic novelties, having been furnished with so very
original and striking a situation, the Reader ought to be
allowed a little time to enjoy it.
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 403
CHAPTER VI.
Ha ! ha ! ha !
" Zounds ! — pshaw ! — ^phoo ! — ^pish ! " ejaculates a Cour-
teous Reader, "it's all a hoax, the author is laughing at us."
Not at all. The cachinnatory syllables were intended
to signify the peal of dreary laughter with which the hyena
hailed my incarceration. It was perhaps only a coincidence
— and yet the beast might comprehend and enjoy the sudden
turning of the tables, the Man become a prisoner, and the
Brute his gaoler.
It might tickle his savage fancy to behold a creature of
the species before which the animals of his own kind instinc-
tively quailed and skulked off — it might gratify a splenetic
hatred, born of fear, to see a member of that aristocratic
order reduced by a Revolution, beyond the French one, into
a doomed captive in such a Bastile !
" Excuse me, sir, but do you really believe that a brute
beast ever reasons so curiously 1 "
It is difficult to say, madam, for they never utter, much
less publish, their speculations. That some do reason and
even moralize
" Moralize I what, a brute beast — for instance, a great bear
— a moralist like Dr. Johnson 1 "
Yes, madam ; — or Hervey, of the Meditations. The hyena
is notoriously a frequenter of graves — a prowler amongst the
Tombs. He is, also, the only beast that laughs — at least
above his breath. And putting these two circumstances
together, who knows but that the Ghoul acquired his Sar-
donic grin, and his cynical ha ! ha ! ha ! from a too intimate
acquaintance with the dusty, mouldy, rubbishing, unsavoury
404 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
relics of the pride, power, pomps and vanities of the so-called
Lord of the Creation ?
" Who indeed, sir 1 What man can see into the heart of a
brute beast ? "
Why, if any one, ma'am, it's the man who puts his head
into the lion's mouth.
CHAPTER VII.
It was now my turn to know and understand how Time
"travels in divers paces with divers persons." To feel
how the precious stuff that life is made of might be drawn
out, like fine gold, into inconceivable lengths. To learn the
extreme duration of minims and seconds, and possible "last
moments " of existence — the practicability of living ages, as
in dreams, between one vital pulsation and another !
Oh those interminable and invaluable intervals between
breath and breath !
How shall I describe — by what gigantic scale can I give a
notion of the enormous expansion of the ordinary fractions of
time, when marked on a Dial of the World's circumference
by the Shadow of Death ?
Methinks while that horrible face, and those red, fiery
eyes were gazing at me. Pyramids might have been built —
Babylons founded — Empires established — Royal Dynasties
have risen, ruled, and fallen — ^yea, even that other Planets
might have fulfilled their appointed cycles from Creation to
Destruction, during those nominal minutes which by their
immense span seemed actually to be preparing me for
Eternity I
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 405
CHAPTEE VIII.
In the meantime the Tiger kept his old position in front of
the cage, without making any attempt to get at me. He
could have no fear of my getting out to eat him, and as to
his devouring me, having recently breakfasted on shin of
beef he seemed in no hurry for a second meal, knowing
perfectly well, that whenever he might feel inclined to lunch
he had me ready for it, as it were, in his safe.
Thus the beast continued with intolerable perseverance to
stare in upon me, who, crouched up at the further comer of
the den, had only to await his pleasure or displeasure. Once
or twice, indeed, I tried to call out for help, but the sound
died in my throat, and when at length I succeeded, the Tiger,
whether to drown my voice, or from sympathy, set up such a
roar at the same time, and this he did so repeatedly, that
convinced of the futility of the experiment, I abandoned
myself in silence to my fate. Its crisis waa approaching.
If he had no hunger for food the savage had an appetite for
revenge, and soon showed himself disposed, catlike, to sport
with his victim, and torment him a little by exciting his
terror. I have said cat-like, but there seemed something more
sttpematurally ingenious in the cruelty of his proceedings.
He certainly made faces at me, twisting his grim features
with the most frightful contortions — especially his mouth,
drawing back his lips so as to show his teeth — then smacking
them, or licking them with his tongue— of the roughness of
which he occasionally gave me a hint by rasping it against
the iron bars. But the climax of his malice was to come.
Strange as it may seem, he absolutely winked at me, act a
mere feline blink at excess of light, but a significant know-
406 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE
ing wink, and then inflating his cheeks, puffed into my
face a long, hot breath, smelling, most ominously, of raw
flesh t
" The horrid wretch ! why he seemed to know what he was
about like a Christian 1 "
Yes, madam — or, at any rate, like an inhuman humai^
being. But, before long, he evidently grew tired of such
mere pastime. His tail — that index of mischief — ^resumed
its activity, swinging and flourishing in the air, with a thump
every now and then on his flank, as if he were beating time
with it to some Tiger's March in his own head. At last it
dropped, and at the same instant thrusting one paw between
the bars he tried by an experimental semicircular sweep,
whether any part of me was within his reach. He took
nothing, however, by his motion, but his talons so nearly
brushed my knees, that a change of posture became impera-
tive. The den was too low to allow of my standing up, so
that the only way was to He down on my side, with my back
against that of the cage — of course making myself as much
like a has-relief as possible.
Fortunately, my coat was closely buttoned up to the
throat, for the hitch of a claw in a lappel would have been
fatal : as it was, the paw of the brute, in some of his sweeps,
came within two inches of my person. Foiled in this fishing
for me, he then st^ck the bars, seriatim, but they were too
massive, and too well imbedded in their sockets, to break, or
bend, or give way. Nevertheless, I felt far from safe. There
was such a diabolical sagacity in the Beast's proceedings, that
it would hardly have been wonderful if he had deliberately
undone the bolt and fastenings of his late front-door and
walked in to me.
** Oh, how dreadful if he had ! And what a position for
you, sir ! Such a shocking picture — a human fellow- creature
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 407
in a cage -with a great savage tiger a-tearing at him through
the bars — I declare it reminds me of the Cat at our
Canary!"
CHAPTER IX.
I WOULD not marry the Young Lady who made that last
comparison for Ten Thousand Pounds !
CHAPTER X.
Confound the Keepers !
Not one of them, Upper or Under, even looked into the
room. For any help to me, they might as well have been
Keeping sheep, or turnpikes, or little farms, or the King's
peace — or keeping the Keep at Windsor, or editing the Keep-
sake ! — or helping the London Sweeps and Jack-in-the-Green
to keep May Day !
Oh ! what a pang, sharp as tiger's tooth could inflict, shot
through my heart as I remembered that date with all its
cheerful and fragrant associations — sights, and scents, and
sounds so cruelly different to the object before my eyes, the
odour in my nostrils, the noise in my ears !
How I wished myself under the hawthorns, or even on
them: — ^how I yearned to be on a village green, with or
without a Maypole ; but why do I speak of such sweet
locahties ?
May-day as it was, and sweep as I was not, I would
willingly have been up the foulest flue in London, cleansing
it gratis. Fates that had formerly seemed black and hard,
408 THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE.
now looked white and mild in comparison with my own.
The gloomiest things, the darkest misfortunes, even unto
negro-slavery, shone out, like the holiday sooterkins, tvith
washed faces.
My own case was getting desperate. The Tiger enraged
by his failures, was furious, and kept up an incessant fretful
grumble — sometimes deepening into a growl, or rising almost
into a shriek — ^while again and again he tried the bars, or
swept for me with his claws. Lunch-time it was plain had
come, and an appetite along with it, as appeared by his
efforts to get at me, as well sis his frequently opening and
shutting his jaws, and licking his lips, — in fact, making a sort
of Barmecidal feast on me beforehand.
The effect of this mock-mastication on my nerves was
inexpressibly terrible — as the awful rehearsal of a real
tragedy. Besides, from a correspondence of imagination, I
seemed actually to feel in my flesh and bones every bite he
simulated, and the consequent agonies. Oh, horrible —
horrible — homble !
" Horrible, indeed ! I wonder you did not faint ! "
Madam, I dared not. All my vigilance was too necessary
to preserve me from these dangerous snatches, so often made
suddenly as if to catch me off my guard. It was far more
likely that the brain, overstrained by such intense excite-
ment, would give way and drive me by some frantic impulse
—a maniac — into those foamy jaws.
Still bolt, and bar, and reason retained their places. But
alas ! if even the mind remained firm, the physical energies
might fail. So long as I could maintain my position, as still
and as stiff as a corpse, my life was comparatively safe : but
the necessary effort was almost beyond the power of human
nature, and certainly could not be long protracted — the
johits and Binews must relax, and then
THE LONGEST HOUR IN MY LIFE. 409
Merciful Heaven ! the crisis just alluded to was fast
approaching, for the overtasked muscles were gradually give,
give, giving — when suddenly there was a peculiar cry from
some animal in the inner room. The Tiger answered it with
a yell, and, as if reminded of some hated object — at least as
obnoxious to him as myself — instantly dropped from the
cage, and made one step towards the spot. But he stopped
short — tiu-ning his face again to the cage, to which he would
probably have returned but for a repetition of the same cry.
The Tiger answered it as before with a yell of defiance, and
bounded ofif through the door into the next chamber, whence
growls, roars, and shrieks of brutal rage soon announced that
some desperate combat had commenced.
The uproar alarming the Keepers, they rushed in, when
springing from the cage with equal alacrity, I rushed out ;
and while the men were securing the Tiger, secured myself
by running home to my house in the Adelphi, at a rate never
attained before or since.
Nor did Time, who " travels in divers paces with divers
persons," ever go at so extraordinary a rate— /or slotoness —
as he had done with me. On consulting my watch, the age
which I had passed in the Tiger's den must have been some
sixty minutes !
And so ended. Courteous Reader, the Longest Hour in my
Life !
[I have found among my father's coUeetion of autographs the fol-
lowing passage, with reference to the preceding story, in a letter from
Mr. W. J. Broderip, the weU-known Police Magistrate, and A!uthor of
" Zoological Recreations."]
" The longest Hour of your Life " gave me a night-mare.
The whole day had been employed in listening to a horrid
murder ; and at night I took up your paper to amuse me.
410
AN TJNDEETAKER.
and drive the bloody business out of my head. The effect
of the combination out-Fuselied all that Fuseli ever conceived
after a supper of the rawest of pork. — though I supped on
sugar and water. Maltese murderers with raised knives
ready to strike ; blood running slowly and lava-like down
walls. Tigers attracted by the smell of the blood, and
attacking editors and justices shut up in rush cages — in one
everlasting smash, notwithstanding a gasping attempt to
read the Riot Act ! Ah, it is all very well to laugh noWy
but it was awful!"
ALL BOUND MT HAT."
AN UNDEETAKER
Is an lUwiller to the Human Eace. He is by Profession an
Enemy to his Species, and can no more look kindly at his
AN UNDEETAKER.
411
Fellows than the Sheriff's Officer; for why, his Profit hegins
with an Arrest for the Debt of Nature. As the Bailiff looks on
a failing Man so doth he, and with the same Hope, namely, tc
take the Body.
Hence hath he little Sympathy with his Kind, small Pity fo.
the Poor, and least of all for the Widow and the Orphan, whoir
he regards, Planter like, but as so many Blacks on his Estate
If he have any Community of Peeling, it is with the Sexton
1. UHQVXm. BOVIA.
who has likewiBe a Per Centage on the Bills of Mortality, and
never sees a Pictiire of Health but he longs to ingrave it. Both
have the same ^ick Ear for a Churchyard Cough, and both the
412 AN UNDERTAKER.
same Relish for the same Music, to wit, the Toll of Saint
Sepulchre. Moreover both go constantly in black — howbeit *ti8
no Mourning Suit but a Livery — for he grieves no more for the
Defunct than the Bird of the same Plumage, that is the Under-
taker to a dead Horse.
As a Neighbour he is to be shunned. To live opposite to him
is to fall under the Evil Eye. Like the Witch that forespeaks
other Cattle, he would rot you as soon as look at you, if it could
be done at a Glance ; but that Magic being out of Date, he
contents himself with choosing the very Spot on the House
Front that shall serve for a Hatchment. Thenceforward he
watches your going out and your coming in : your rising up and
your lying down, and all yoiu* Domestic Imports of Drink and
Victual, so that the veriest She Gossip in the Parish is not more
IS THAT BOGBKS'S 1A8T, OB TOUB OWIT /
familiar with your Modes and Means of Living, nor knows so
certainly whether the Visitor, that calls d.aily in his Chariot, is
AN UNDERTAKER. 413
a mere Friend or a Physician. Also he knows your Age to a
Year, and your Height to an Inch, for he hath measured you
with his Eye for a Coffin, and your Ponderosity to a Pound, for
he hath an Interest in the Dead Weight, and hath so far in-
quired into your Fortune as to guess with what Equipage you
shall travel on your last Journey. For, in professional Curiosity,
he is truly a Fall Pry. Wherefore to dwell near him is as
melancholy as to live in view of a Churchyard ; to be within
Sound of his Hammering is to hear the Knocking at Death's
Door.
To be friends with an Undertaker is as impossible as to be
the Crony of a Crocodile. He is by Trade a Hypocrite, and
deals of Necessity in Mental Eeservations and Equivoques.
Thus he drinks to your good Health, but hopes, secretly, it will
not endui-e. He is glad to find you so hearty — as to be Apo-
plectic ; and rejoices to see you so stout — with a short Neck.
He bids you beware of your old Gout — and recommends a Quack
Doctor. He laments the malignant Fever so prevalent — and
wishes you may get it. He compliments your Complexion —
when it is Blue or Yellow ; admires your upright Carriage, —
and hopes it will break down. Wishes you good Day, but
means everlasting Night ; and commends his Eespects to your
Father and Mother — but hopes you do not honour them. In
short, his good Wishes are treacherous ; his Inquiries are sus-
picious ; and his Civilities are dangerous ; as when he proifereth
the Use of his Coach — or to see you Home.
For the rest, he is still at odds with Humanity ; at constant
Issue with its Naturalists, and its Philanthropists, its Sages,
its Counsellors, and its Legislators. For example, he praises the
Weather — with the Wind at East ; and rejoices in a wet Spring
and Fall, for Death and he reap with one Sickle, and have a
good or bad Harvest in common. He objects not to bones in
Bread (being as it were his own diet), nor to ill Drugs in Beei,
414
AN UNDEETAKER.
nor to Sugar of Lead or arsenical Finings in Wine, nor to
ardent Spirits, nor to Interment in Churches. Neither doth he
discountenance the Sitting on Infants ; nor the swallowing of
Plum Stones ; nor of cold Ices at Hot balls — nor the drinking
of Embrocations, nay he hath been known to contend that the
wrong Dose was the right one. He approves, contra the Phy-
sicians, of a damp Bed and wet Feet, — of a hot Head and cold
Extremities, and lends
his own Countenance
to the Natural Small
Pox, rather than en-
courage Vaccination —
which he calls flying in
the Pace of Providence.
Add to these, a free
Trade in Poisons,
whereby the Oxalic
Crystals may currently
become Proxy for the
Epsom ones; and the
corrosive Sublimate as common as Salt in Ponidge. To the
same End he woidd give unto every Cockney a Privilege to
shoot, within ten miles round London, without a Taxed License,
and would never concur in a Pine or Deodand for Past Driving,
except the Vehicle were a Hearse. Thus, whatever the popular
Cry, he runs counter : a Heretic in Opinion, and a Hypocrite in
Practice, as when he pretends to be sorrowful at a Funeral ; or,
what is worse, affects to pity the ill-paid Poor, and yet helpeth
to screw them down.
To conclude, he is a Personage of ill presage to the House of
Life: a Raven Qn the Chimney Pot — a Deathwatch in the
Wainscot, — a Winding Sheet in the Candle. To meet with him
is ominous. His Looks are sinister ; his Dress is lugubrious ;
8HEEB FBEIBirSIOB'.
AN UNDEETAKEB.
415
his Speech is prophetic ; and his Touch is mortal. Nevertheless
he hath one Merit, and in this our World, and in these our
Times, it is a main one ; namely, that whatever he Undertakes
he Performs,
416
A FIRST ATTEMPT IN EHYME.
A PIEST ATTEMPT IN EHYME.
The attempt and not the deed." — Lady Macbeth.
A FEW days since it happened to me to look into a Lady's
Album — one of those pretty nuisances which are sent to one like
the Tax-gatherer's Scheoales, with a blank or two for the victim
FBOU THE ZOOLOeiCAI. GABSENS.
to fill up. The Book was of the usual kind ; superbly bound
of course, and filled with paper of various tints and shades, to
suit the taste of the contributors : — baiting, one might fancy,
with a bluish tinge for Lady Chatterton, with a light green for
Mrs. Hall, or Miss Mitford, and with a French White for Miss
Costello — for Moore with a flesh colour, with gray for the Bare?
A FIRST ATTEMPT IN EHYME. 417
of Memory, and with rose colour for the Poet of Hope — with
stone colour for Allan Cunningham, with straw colour for the'
Corn Law Ehymer, with drab and slate for Bernard Barton and
the Howitts, and with a sulphur tint for Satan Montgomery. The
copper colour being perhaps, aimed at the artists in general, who
are partial to the warmth of its tone.
As yet, however, but few of our " celebrated pens " and pen-
cils had enriched or ornamented the volume. The literary
offerings were short and few ; and the pictorial ones were still
more rare. Thus between the Mendicant begging for Scraps in
the Frontispiece, and a water-colour branch of Fuchsia, there
were no less than eighteen blank leaves : twenty-two more from
the flower to the Group of Shells — if they were shells — for they
looked more like petrifactions of a cracknel, a French roll, and a
twist — and fifteen barren pages from the Conchology to the great
Parrot — which, by the bye, seemed purposely to have been put
into tlie same livery as the lady's footman, namely, a peagreen
coat, with crimson smalls. There was only one more drawing ;
a view of some Dutch place, done in Sepia, and which some wag
had named in pencil as " a Piece of Brown Holland."
The prose and verse were of the ordinary character : Extracts
from Byron, Wordsworth, and Mrs. Hemans ; a Parody of an
Irish Melody, an Unpublished Ballad, attributed to Sir Walter
Scott, and sundry original effusions, including a Sonnet of six-
teen lines, to an Infant. There were also two specimens of
what is called Religious Poetry — the one working up a Sprig of
Thyme into an " eternity ! " and the other setting out as
jauntily as a Song, but ending in a '* him."
In glancing over these effusions, it was my good fortune to
be attracted to some verses by a certain singulaniy in their con-
struction, the nature of which it required a second perusal to
determine. Indeed, the peculiarity was so unootrusive, that it
had escaped the notice of the owner of the Album, who had even
418 A FIRST ATTEMPT IN RHYME.
designated the lines in question as " nothing particular." They
were, she said, as the title implied, the first attempt in rhyme,
by a female friend; and who, to judge from her manner and ex-
pressions, with respect to her maiden essay, had certainly not
been aware of anything extraordinary in her performance. On
the contrary, she had apologised for the homely and common-
place character of the lines, and had promised, if she ever im-
proved in her poetry, to contribute another and a better sample.
A. pledge which Death, alas ! had forbidden her to redeem.
As a Literary Curiosity, the Proprietress of the original Poem
has kindly allowed me to copy and present it to the Public. In-
stead of a mere commonplace composition, the careful Eeader
will perceive that whilst aiming at, and so singularly missing,
what Garrick called " the jingle of verse," the Authoress has
actually invented a New Species of Poetry — an intermediate
link, as it were, between Blank Verse and Ehyme, and as such
likely to be equally acceptable to the admirers of Thomson and
the lovers of Shenstone.
COPY.
If I were used to writing verse,
And had a Muse not so perverse,
But prompt at Fancy's call to spri:ig
And Carol like a bird in Spring ;
Or like a Bee, in summer time.
That hums about a bed of thyme,
And gathers honey and delights
From ev'ry blossom where it 'lights ;
If I, alas ! had such a Muse,
To touch the Eeader or amuse,
And breathe the true poetic vein,
This page should not be fill'd in vain I
A FIRST ATTEMPT IN RHYME. 419
But ah ! the power was never mine
To dig for gems in Fancy's mine s
Or wander over land and main
To seek the Fairies' old domain —
To watch Apollo while he climbs
His throne in oriental climes ;
Or mafk the " gradual dusky veil "
Prawn over Tempe's tuneful vale.
In classic lays remembered long —
Such flights to balder wings belong ;
To Bards who on that glorious height.
Of sun and song, Parnassus hight.
Partake the fire divine that burns, ^
In Milton, Pope, and Scottish Bums, (
Who sang his native braes and bums, \
For me a novice strange and new.
Who ne'er such inspiration knew.
But weave a verse with travail sore,
Ordain'd to creep and not to soar,
A. few pool lineb alone I write.
Fulfilling thus a friendly rite,
Not meant to meet the Critic's eye,
For oh ! to hope from such as I,
For any thing that's fit to read.
Were trusting to a broken reed |
lstqfJ^ril,lS4>0. EuU.Gu
420
HOESE AND FOOT.
HORSE AND FOOT.
HORSE AND FOOT.
" Fain would I climbe
But that I fear to fall.
-Sir Walter Raleigh.
It requires some degree of moral courage to make such a
confession, for a horse-laugli will assuredly take place at my ex-
pense, but I never could sit on anything with four legs, except
a chair, a table or a sofa. Possibly my birthplace was adverse,
not being raised in Yorkshire, with its three Ridings — perhaps
iny education was in fault, for of course I was put to my feet
like other children, but I do not remember being ever properly
taken off them in the riding-school. It is not unlikely tliat my
HOESE AND FOOT. 421
passion lor sailing Las been inimical to the accomplisliment ;
there is a roll about a vessel so different from the pitch of a
horse, that a person accustomed to a fore and aft sea- saw, or side
lurch, is utterly disconcerted by a regular up-and-down motion
— at any rate, seamen are notorious for riding at anchor better
than at anything else. Finally, the Turk's principle. Predestina-
tion, may be accountable for my inaptitude. One man is evi-
dently born under what Milton calls a " mounted sign," whilst
another comes into the world under the influence of Aries, pre-
doomed to perform on no saddle but one of mutton. Thus we
see one gentleman who can hardly keep his seat upon a pony, or
a donkey ; when another shall tum^and wind a fiery Pegasus, oi
back a Bucephalus; to say nothing of those professional
equestrians, who tumble on a horse instead of off. It has always
seemed to me, therefore, that our Astleys and Ducrows, whether
they realised fortunes or not, deserved to do so, besides obtain-
ing more honorary rewards. It would not, perhaps, have been
out of character, if they had been made Knights of, or Cavaliers;
especially considering that many Mayors, Aldermen, and
Sheriffs have been so dubbed, whose pretensions never stood on
more than two legs, and sometimes scarcely on one.
The truth is, I have always regarded horsemen with something
of the veneration with which the savages beheld, for the first
time, the Spanish chivalry — namely, as superior beings. With
all respect then to our gallant Infantry, I have always looked on
our Cavalry as a grade above them — indeed, the feat of Widdring-
ton, who " fought upon his stumps," and so far, on his own
legs, has always appeared to me comparatively easy, whereas foi
a charge of cavalry.
Charge, Chester, charge,
Off, Stanley, off,
has always seemed to me the most natural reading.
The chase of course excite? my admiration and wonder, and
27
422
HORSE AND FOOT.
like Lord Chesterfield 1 unfeignedly marvel —but for a different
reason — that any gentleman ever goes to it a second time. A
chapter of Nirarod's invariably gives me a crick in the neck. I
can well believe that "it is the pace that kills," but why rational
beings with that conviction should ride to be killed exceeds my
comprehension. For my own part could such a pace ever come
into fashion, it would be suicidal in me to attempt to hunt at a
trot, or even in a walk. Ride and tie, perhaps, ii', as I suppose,
it means one's being tied on — but no, my evil genius would
evade even that securitv.
THH 1CAST«B OF THI HOBSE.
Above all, but for certain visits to Epsom and Ascot I should
have set down horse-racing as a pleasant fiction. That Buckle
without being buckled on, should have reached the age lie at-
tained to — or that Day should have had so long a day — are to
my mind " remarkable instances of longevity " far more wonder-
ful than any recorded in the newspapers. How a jockey can be-
stride, and what is more, start with one of those thorough-bred
steeds, is to me a standing, or rather running, or rather flying
HORSE AKD FOOT. 423
miracle. Were I a Eobinson or a Eogers, 1 should certainly
think of the plate as a coffin-plate, and that the stakes were such as
those that were formerly driven through self-murderers' bodies.
It would appear, then, that a rider like a poet, must be born
and not made — that there are two races of men as differently
fated as the silver- spooned and the wooden-ladled — some coming
into the world, so to speak, at Ryde^ others, like myself, at
Footscra]/, and thus by necessity, equestrians or pedestrians. In
fact, to con-oborate this theory, there is the Championship, which
being hereditary, is at least one instance of a gentleman being
ordained to horseback from his birth. As to me, instead of re-
trograding through Westminster Hall on Cato, I must have
backed out of the office.
It is probable, however, that beside the causes already
enumerated, something of my inaptitude may be due to my
profession. It has been remarked elsewhere, as to riding, that
** sedentary persons seldom have a good seat," and literary men
generally appear to have been on a par, as to Horsemanship,
with the sailors. The Author of " Paul Pry," in an extremely
amusing paper,* has recorded his own quadrupedal mischances.
Coleridge, for a similar or a still greater incapacity, was dis-
charged from a dragoon regiment. Lamb avowedly never went
*' horse-pickaback " in his life. Byron, for all his ambition to
be thought a bold cavalier, and in spite of his own hints on the
subject, appears to have been but an indifferent performer — and
Sir Walter Scott, as we read in his life, tumbled from his gallo-
way, and Sir Humphrey Davy jumped over him. Even Shak-
speare, as far as we have any account of his knowledge of horses,
iiever got beyond hdding them. Lord Chesterfield has described
Doctor Johnson's appearance in the saddle ; but the catalogue
would be too tedious. Suffice it, if riding be the "poetry of
motion," authors excel rather in its prose.
♦ A Cockney's Rural Sports.
424 HORSE AND FOOT.
To affirm, however, that I never ventured on the quadruped
in question would be beside the truth, having a dim notion of
once getting astride a Shetland pony in my boyhood, but how
or where it carried me, or how I sat, if I did sit on it for any
FAST AND LOOSE.
djstance, is in blank, having been picked up insensible within
twenty yards of the door. I have a distinct recollection how-
ever of mounting a full-grown mahogany-coloured animal of the
same genus, after coming to man's estate, which I may be par-
doned for relating, as it was my only performance of the kind.
It was during my first unfortunate courtship, when I had the
brief happiness of three weeks' visit at the residence of the
lady's father in the county of Suffolk. I had made considerable
progress, I flattered myself, in the affections of his " eldest
da^ighter,'* when, alas ! a letter arrived from London, which
summoned mc oa urgent business to the metropolis. There was
HCESE AND FOOT. 425
no neat postchaise to be procured in the neiglibourhood, nor in-
deed any other vehicle on account of the election ; and my host
kindly pressed upon me the use of one of his saddle-horses to
carry me to the next market-town, where I should meet the
mail. The urgency of the case induced me to accede to the
proposal, and with feelings that all lovers will duly estimate, I
took leave of my adored Honoria.
tarnation! — hb's left his shadow bkhind him I
She evidently felt the parting — we might not meet again for
Bn age, or even two or three ages, alias weeks, and to be candid,
I fully participated in her feelings of anxiety, and something
more, considering the perilous nature of the expedition. But
the Horse came, and the last adieus — no, not the last, for the
animal having merely taken me an airing, across a country of
his own choosing, at last brought me back of his own head, for
42v
HORSE AND FOOT.
1 was unable to direct it, safe to the house, or rather to the dooi
of his own stable. At the time, despite some over-severe
raillery, I rather enjoyed the untoward event ; but on mature
reflection, I have since found reason to believe that the change
which afterwards took place in the young lady's sentiments to-
wards me was greatly attributable to my equestrian failure. The
popular novel of " Bob Roy " made its appearance soon after-
wards, and along with a certainly over-fervent admiration of its
heroine, Di Vernon, a notable horse-woman, it is not improbable
that Honoria imbibed something of an opposite feeling toward
her humble servant who was only a Foot-Man.
Since then, I have contrived to get married, to a lady of a more
pedestrian taste ; an escape from celibacy that might have been
more difficult had my bachelorship endured ti]l a reign when the
example of the Sovereign has made riding so fashionable an ex-
ercise with the fair sex. Indeed, I have invariably found that
every female but one whom I might have liked or loved, was a
capital horsewoman. How other timid or inapt gentlemen arft
HOESE AND FOOT. 427
to procure matrimonial partners, is a problem that remains to
be solved. They must seek companions, as W. says, in the
humbler walks of life. Poor W. ! He was deeply, devotedly
attached to a young lady of family and fortune, to whom he was
not altogether indifferent, but lie could not ride out with her on
horseback, and the captain could, which determined her choice.
The rejected lover has had a twist in his brain and a warp in
his temper ever since ; but his bitterness, instead of falling on
the sex as usual, has settled on the whole equine race. He
hates them all, from the steed of sixteen hands high down to the
Shetland pony, and insists, against Mr. Thomas, and his
Brutally-Humane Society, that horses are never ill-used. There
is a *' bit of raw " in his own bosom that has made him regard
their galled withers with indifference : a sore at his heart which
has made him callous to their sufferings. They deserve all they get.
The Dog is man's best friend, he says, and the Horse his worst.
Since writing the above, word has been brought to me that
poor Y(.. is no more. He deceased suddenly, and the report
says, of apoplexy ; but I know better. His death was caused,
indeed, by a full habit — but it was a blue one.
A man's a. UX^f SOB, a' that."
428
PIKOTJETTES.
PIROUETTES.
" Don't tell me," said my uncle, " of your Operatives (he
meant Opera-dancers) who spin about like teetotums or peg-tops.
I am for none of your whirligigs. It is a mere tour de force^
to show how many revolutions they can make on one leg ; and
nine times in ten the performer, especially a male one, shows by
his face, at the conclusion, what a physical exertion it has been.
The best dancers are sparing of such manceuvres ; for they know
that any appearance of effort is fatal to Grace. When I say the
best dancers, I mean such Artistes as Taglioni, and others of the
same school; who, by the way, always seemed to me to deserve
the same encomium that King Solomon bestowed on the lilies —
ikeif TOIL «o^, neither do they spin.'*
M ' ^ f^imM;\^.^''-:.\
AGKICULTU-BAI. DI8TBESS.
THE SEASON. 429
THE SEASON.
Summer's gone and over !
Fogs are falling down ;
And with russet tinges
Autumn's doing brown.
Boughs are daily rifled
By the gusty thieves,
And the Book of Nature
Getteth short of leaves.
Round the tops of houses,
Swallows, as they flit.
Give, like yearly tenants.
Notices to quit.
Skies, of fickle temper.
Weep by turns, and laugh —
Night and Day together
Taking half-and-half.
So September endeth —
Cold, and most perverse^
But the month that follows,
Sure will pinch us worse !
430 ME. WITHERING' S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
BILL8 OF MOETALITY.
ME. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
A DOMESTIC EXTRAVAGANZA.
" Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;
Fly away, fly away, breath ;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid,
My shroud of white, all stuck with yew.
Oh, prepare it ! " — Twelfth Night.
CHAPTER I.
" And \^1io was Mr. Withering ? '*
Mr. Witnering, Gentle Eeader, was a drysalter of Dowgate-
bill. Not that he dealt in salt, dry or wet — or, as you might
dream, in dry salt stockfish, ling, and Findon haddies, like the
ME. WITHEEING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE. 431
salesmen in Thames-street. The commodities in which he
trafficked, wholesale, were chiefly drugs, and dyewoods, a busi-
ness whereby he had managed to accumulate a moderate for-
tune. His character was unblemished, — ^his habits regular and
domestic, but although advanced in years beyond the middle
age, he was still a bachelor.
"And consumptive? Why then according to Dr. Imray'a
book, he had hair of a light colour, large blue eyes, long eye-
lashes, white and regular teeth, long fingers with the nails con'
tracted or curved, a slender figure, and a fair and blooming
countenance." •
m^. 0.<ir M ^rP<<(9) r1
PEEDE8TINATIOM".
Not exactly, Miss. Mr. Withering was rather dark —
** Oh yes — as the doctor says, the tuberculous constitution is
not confined to persons of sanguineous temperaments and fair
432 MR. WITHERING' S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURB.
complexion. It also belongs to those of a very different ap-
pearance. The subjects of this affection are often of a swarthy
and dark complexion, with coarse skin, dark hair, long dark
eyelashes, black eyes, thick upper lip, short fingers, broad nails,
and a more robust habit of body, with duller intellect, and a
careless or less active disposition."
Nay, that is still not Mr. Withering. To tell the truth, he
was not at all like a consumptive subject : — not pigeon-
breasted, but broad-chested — not emaciated, but plump as a
partridge — not heotic in colour, but as healthily ruddy as a
redstreak apple — not languid, but as brisk as a bee, — in short,
a comfortable little gentleman, of the Pickwick class, some-
thing, perhaps, quizzical, but nothing phthisical in his ap-
pearance.
" Why, then, what was the matter with the man ? **
A decline. Madam. Not the rapid decay of nature, so called,
but one of those declines which an unfortunate lover has some-
times to endure from the lips of a cruel beauty ; for Mr.
Withering, though a steady, plodding man of business, in his
warehouse or counting-house, was, in his parlour or study, a
rather romantic and sensitive creature, with a strong turn for the
sentimental, which had been nourished by his course of reading
— chiefly in the poets, and especially such as dealt in Love
Elegies, like his favourite Hammond. Not to forget Shenstone,
whom, in common with many readers of his standing, he re-
garded as a very nightingale of sweetness and pathos in ex-
pressing the tender passion. Nay, he even ventured occasionally
to clothe his own amatory sentiments in verse, and in sundry
poems painted his torments by flames and darts, and other in-
struments of cruelty, so shockingly, that, but for certain
allegorical touches, he might have been thought to be describing
the ingenious torture of some poor white captive by a red Indian
squaw.
ME. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CUBE. 438
But, alas ! his poetry, original or borrowed, was of no more
avail than his plain prose against that petrifaction which he ad-
dressed as a heart, in the bosom of Miss Puckle. He might as well
have tried to moye all Plintshire by a geological essay ; or have
picked his way with a toothpick into a Fossil Saurian. The
obdurate lady had a soul above trade, and the offer of the dry-
salter and lover, with his dying materials in either line, was met
by what is called a Jlat refusal, though it sounded, rather, as if
set in a tharp.
14 MR. WITHBEING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CUBE.
Now in suck cases, it is usual for the Eejected One to go
into something or other, the nature
of which depends on the tempera-
ment and circumstances of the in-
dividual, and I will give you six
guesses. Gentle Reader, as to what
it was that Mr. Withering went
into when he was refused by Miss
Puckle.
** Into mourning ? '*
No.
" Into a tantrum ? "
No.
" Into the Serpentine ? "
No — nor into the Thames, to
LOOKING vv TO th;b oveesebb. slccp in peace in Bugsby's Hole.
" Into the Army or Navy ? "
No.
" Into a madhouse ? "
No.
" Into a Hermitage ? '*
No — nor into a Monastery.
The truth is, he opportunely remembered that his father's
great aunt, Dinah, after a disappointment in love, was carried
off by Phthisis Pulmonalis ; and as the disease is hereditary, he
felt, morally as well as physically and grammatically, that he
must, would, could, should, and ought to go like a true Wither-
ing into a Consumption.
"And did he. Sir?"
He did. Miss ; — and so resolutely, that he sold off his busi-
ness, at a saerifice, and retired, in order to devote the rest of his
life to dying for Amanda — alias Miss Susan Puckle. And a
long job it promised to be, for he gloried in dying very hard,
MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE. 435
and in pining for her, wh^h of course is not to be done in a
day. And truly, instead of a lover's going off, at a pop, like
Werter, it must be mucli more satisfactory to a cruel Beauty, to
see her victim deliberately expiring by inches, like a Dolphin,
and dying of as many hues, — now crimson with indignation,
then looking blue with despondence, anon yellow with jaundice,
or green with jealousy — at last fading into a melancholy mud-
colour, and thence darkening into the black tinge of despair and
death. It is said, indeed, that when the cruel Miss Puckle was
informed of bis dying for her, she exclaimed, " Oh ! I hope he
will let me crimp him first, — like a skate ! "
CHAPTER II.
" But did Mr. Withering actually go into a consumption ? "
As certainly, Miss, as a passenger steps of his own accord
into an omnibus that is going to Gravesend. He had been re-
fused, and had a strong sentimental impression that all the Re-
jected and Forsaken Martyrs of true, love were carried off
sooner or later, by the same insidious disease. Accordingly his
first step was to remove from the too keen air of Pentonville, to
the milder climate of Brompton, where he took a small detached
house, adapted to the state of single unblessedness, to which he
was condemned. Por with all his conviction of the propriety,
or necessity of the catastrophe, his dying for love did not in-
volve a love for dying ; he might soon have to breathe his last,
but it should be of a fine air.
His establishment consisted but of two female servants ;
namely, a housemaid, and a middle-aged woman, at once cook,
housekeeper, and nurse, who professedly belonged to a consump-
tive family, and therefore knew what was good or bad, or
neither, for all pulmonary complaints. Her name was Button,
She was tall, large-boned, and hard-featured j with a loud
4M MB. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AITO ITS CURB.
voice, a stern eye, and the decided ni|nner of a military sergeant
— a personage adapted, and in fact accustomed, to rule much
more refractory patients than her master. It did not indeed re-
quire much persuasion to induce him to take to wear " flannin
next his skin," or woollen comforters round his throat and
wrists, or even a hareskin on his chest in an east wind. He
was easily led to adopt cork soles and clogs against wet, and a
great-coat in cold weather — nay, he was even out-talked into
putting his jaw into one of those hideous contrivances called
Jlespirators. But this was nothing. He waa absolutely com-
MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE. 437
pelled to give up all animal fpod and fermented liquors — to re-
nounce succeesively his joint, his steak, his chop, his chicken, his
calves' feet, his drop of brandy, his gin-and-water, his glass of
wine, his bottled porter, his draught ditto, and his ale down to
WELL, THIS IS A HIGH MOVE 1 '
that bitter pale sort, that he used to call his Bass relief. No,
he was not even allowed to taste the table-beer. He had pro-
mised to be consumptive, and Mrs. Button took him at his
word. As much light pudding, sago, arrow-root, tapioca— or
gruel — with toast-and-water, barley-water, whey, or apple-tea,
as often as he pleased — but as to meat or " stimuluses,'* she
would as soon give him " Alick's Acid, or Corrosive Supple-
ment."
To this dietary dictation, the patient first demurred, but soon
submitted. Nothing is more fascinating or dangerous to a man
28
438 MR. WITHERING' S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
just rejected by a female, than the show of kindness by another
of the sex. It restores him to his self-love — nay, to his very
self, — reverses the sentence of social excommunication just pro-
nounced against him, and contradicts the moral annihilation
implied in the phrase of being " nothing to nobody.'* A secret
well known to the sex, and which explains how so many un-
fortunate gentlemen, crossed in love, happen to marry the house-
maid, the cook, or any kind creature in petticoats — the first
Sister of Charity, black, brown, or carroty, who cares a cus —
"Oh! "
JO-AFTBE TACCIIfATIOIf.
—a custard for their appetite, or a comforter for their health.
Even so with Mr. Withering. He had offered himself from the
top of his Brutus to the sole of his shoe to Miss Puckle, who
had plumply told him that he was not worth having as a gift.
And, yet, here — in the very depth of his humiliation, when he
would hai'dly have ventured to bequeath his wretched body to
an anatomical lecturer — here was a female, not merely caring for
his person in general, but for parts of it in particular — his poor
throat and his precious chest, his delicate trachea, his irritable
bronchial tubes, and his tender lungs. Nevertheless, no
onerous tax was imposed on his gratitude ; the only return
MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE. 439
required — and how could he refuse it ! — was his taking a
Temperance, or rather Total Abstinence Pledge for his own
benefit. So he sujjped his semi-solids and swallowed his slops ;
merely remarking on one occasion, after a rather rigorous course
of barley-water, that if his consumption increased he thought he
should " try Madeira,'* but whether the island, or the wine, he
left in doubt.
CHAPTER III.
In the meantime Mr. Withering continued as plump as a
partridge, and as rosy as a redstreak apple. No symptoms of
the imputed disease made their appearance. He slept well, ate
well of sago, &c., drank well of barley-water and the like, and
PKEPABINO A HOT BED.
shook hands with a palm not quite so hard and dry as a dead
Palm of the Desert. He had neither hectic flushes nor short-
440 MR. WITHERTNG'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
ness of breath — nor yet pain in the chest, to which three several
physicians in consultation applied their stethoscopes.
Doctor A. — Hearing nothing at all.
Doctor B. — Nothing particular.
Doctor C. — Nothing wrong.
And Doctor E. distinctly hearing a cad-like voice, proclaiming
*• all right."
Mr. Withering, nevertheless, was dying — if not of consump-
tion, of enmd — the mental weariness of which he mistook for
the physical - lassitude so characteristic of the other disease. In
spite, therefore, of the faculty, he clung to the poetical theory
that he "Was a blighted drysalter, withering prematurely on his
stem ; another victim of unrequited love, whom the utmost care
could retain but a few short months from his cold grave. A
conviction he expressed to posterity in a series of Petrarchian
sonnets, and in plain prose to his housekeeper, who only insisted
the more rigidly on what she called her *' regimental rules " for
his regimen, with the appropriate addition of Iceland Moss. A
recipe to which he quietly submitted, though obstinately reject-
ing another prescription of provincial origin — namely, snails
beaten up with milk. In vain she told him from her own ex-
perience in Flanders, that they were reckoned not only nour-
ishing but reHshing by the Belgians, who after chopping them
up with bread crumbs and sweet herbs, broiled them in the
shells, in each of which a small hole was made, to enable the
Flemish epicure to blow out the contents.* Her master de-
cisively set his face against the experiment, alleging plausibly
enough that the operation of snails must be too slow for any
galloping complaint.
There was, however, one experiment, of which on his own
recommendation Mr. Withering resolved to make a trial —
change of air, of course involving change of scene. Accord-
• The origin perhap3 of the vulgar phrase, *'a good blow out."
MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AKD ITS CURE. 441
ingly, packing his best suit and a few changes of linen in his
carpet-bag, he took an inside place in the Hastings coach, and
was whirled down ere night to that favourite Cinque Port. And
for the first fortnight, thanks to the bracing yet mild air of the
place, which gave tone to his nerves, without injury to his chest,
the result exceeded his most sanguine expectations. But alas !
he was doomed to a relapse, a revulsion so severe, that, in a
more advanced stage of his complaint he ought to have '* gone
out like a snuff."
" What, from wet feet, or a damp bed ? "
No, Madam — but from a promenade, with dry soles, on a
bright day in June, and in a balmy air that would not have in-
jured a lung of lawn-paper.
CHAPTER JV.
Poor Mr. Withering !
Happy for him had he but walked in any other direction —
up to the Castle or down to the beach — had he only bent his
steps westward to Harlington or Bexhill, or eastward to Fair-
light, — or to the Pish-ponds — but his sentimental bias would
carry him towards Lovers' Seat, — and there — on the seat itself
— he beheld his lost Amanda, or rather Miss Puckle, or still
more properly, Mrs. Scrimgeour, who, with her bridegroom,
had come to spend the honeymoon at green Hastings. The
astounded drysalter stood aghast and agape at the unexpected
encounter ; but the lady, cold and cutting as the East wind,
vouchsafed no sign of recognition.
The effect of this meeting was a new shock to his system.
He felt, at the very moment, that he had a hectic flush, hot and
cold fits, with palpitation of the heart, — and his disease set in
again with increased severity. Yes, he was a doomed man,
442 MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
and might at once betake Idmself to the last resource of the
consumptive.
"Not," he said, "not that all the asses' milk in England
would ever lengthen his years."
LOVEES' SBAT.
Impressed with this conviction, and heartily disgusted with
Hastings, he repacked his carpet-bag, and returned by the first
coach to London, fully convinced, whatever the pace of the
Bocket, or the nature of the road, that he was going very fast,
and all down hill,
CHAPTER V.
It was about ten o'clock at night when Mr. Withering
arrived at his own residence in Brompton ; but although there
was a light in the parlour, a considerable time elapsed before he
could obtain admittance.
MK. WITHERING' S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CUBE. 443
At last, after repeated knockings and ringings, the street-
door opened, and disclosed Mrs. Button, wlio welcomed lier
master with an agitation which he attributed at once to his un-
expected return, and the marked change for the worse which of
course was visible in his face.
ALL EiCiHJ 1
" Yes, you may well be shocked — but here, pay the coachman
and shut the door, for I'm in a draught. You may well be
shocked and alarmed, for I'm looking, I know, like death, — but
bless me, Mrs. Button, the house smells very savoury ! "
" It's the drains as you sniff. Sir," said the Housekeeper ;
** they always do smell strongish afore rain."
" Yes, we shall have wet weather, I believe — and it may be
the drains — though I never smelt anything in my life so like
fried beef-gteaks and onions ! "
Hi MR WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
" Why, then, to tell the truth," said Mrs. Button, " it is beef
and inguus ; it's a favourite dish of mine, and as you're forbid
animal food, I thought I'd jest treat myself in your absence, so
as not to tantalise you with the smell."
" Very good, Mrs. Button, and very considerate. Though
with your lungs, I hardly approve of hot suppers. But there
seems to me another smell about the house, — yes — most decidedly
— the smell of tobacco."
" Ob, that's the plants ! " exclaimed the Housekeeper — ''the
geranums that I've been smoking, they were eaten up alive with
green animalculuses."
UNLICENSED VICTUALLERS.
" Humph ! " said Mr. Withering, who, sniffing about like a
spaniel, at last made a point at the Housekeeper herself.
*• It's very odd — very odd, indeed, but there is a sort of per-
fume about 1/ou, Mrs. Button — not exactly lavender or Eau de
Cologne — but more like the smell of liquor,"
" Law, Sir ! " exclaimed the Housekeeper, with a rather
hysterical chuclde, "the sharp nose that you have sure/y/ Well,
?ure enough the tobacco-smoke did make me squeamish, and I
sent out for a small quantity of arduous spirits just to settle my
MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE. 445
stomach. But never miud the luggage, Sir, I'll see to that,
while you go up to the drawing-room and the sofey, for you do
look like death, and that's the truth."
And suiting her actions to her words, she tried to hustle her
master towards the staircase ; but his suspicions were now
excited, and making a piglike dodge round his driver, he bolted
into the parlour, where he beheld a spectacle that fully justified
his misgivings.
" Lord ! what did he see, Sir ? "
Nothing horrible. Madam ; only a cloth laid for supper, with
plates, knives, and forks, and tumblers for two. At one end of
the table stood a foaming quart-pot of porter ; at the other a
446 MR. WITHERING'S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE.
black bottle, labelled "Cream of the Valley," while in the middle
was a .large dish of smoking hot beefsteaks and onions. Por a
minute he wondered who was to be the second party at the
feast, till, guided by a reflection, in the looking-glass, he turned
towards the parlour-door, behind which, bolt upright and mo-
tionless as waxwork, he saw a man, as the oW song says,
*• Where nae man should be."
" Heyday ! Mrs. Button, whom have we here ? "
" If you please. Sir," replied the abashed Housekeeper, " it's
only a consumptions brother of mine, as is come up to London
for physical advice."
" Humph ! " said Mr. Withering, with a significant glance
towards the table, " and I trust that in the mean time you have
advised him to abstain, like your master, from animal food and
stimulants."
" Why you see. Sir, begging your pardon," stammered Mrs.
Button, '* there's differences in constitutions. Some people re-
quires more nourishing than others. Besides, there's two sorts
of consumption."
" Yes, so I see," retorted Mr. Withering ; *' the one preys on
your vitals and t*he other on your victuals."
Just at this moment a scrap of paper on the carpet attracted
his eye, and at the same time catching that of Mrs. Button, and
both parties making an attempt together to pick it up, their
heads came into violent collision.
" It's only the last week's butcher's bill," said the House-
keeper, rubbing her forehead.
" I see it is," said the master, rubbing the top of his head
with one hand, whilst, with t^e bill in the other, he ran through
^,he items, from beef to veal, and from veal to mutton, boggling
especially at the joints.
** Why, zcunds ! Ma'am, your legs run very large ! "
MK. WITHERING' S CONSUMPTION, AND ITS CURE. 447
"My legs, Sir?"
"Well, then, mine, as I pay for them Here's one I see of
eleven pounds, and another of ten and a half. I reallv think my
two legs, cold one day
and hashed the next,
might have dined you
through the week,
without four pounds
of my chops ! "
"Your chops. Sir?"
" Yes, my chops,
woman — and if I had
not dropped in, you
and your consumptive
brother there would
be supping on my
steaks. You would
eat me up alive ! "
"You forget. Sir,"
muttered the House-
keeper, " there's a
Housemaid."
" Forget the devil ! " bellowed Mr. Withering, fairly driven
beyond his patience, and out of his temper by different provo-
catives ; for all this time the fried beef and onions, — one of the
most savoury of dishes, — had been steaming under his nose, ,
suggesting rather annoying comparisons between the fare before
him and his own diet.
" Yes, here have I been starvmg these two months on spoon
victuals and slops, while my servants, my precious servants —
confound them ! — were feasting on the fat of the land ! Yes,
you, woman ! you — with your favourite aishes,- my fried steaks,
and my boiled legs, and my broiled chops, but forbidding me —
JEWISH DISABILITIES.— FIBST SEMOTB.
448 MR. WITHEEING'S CONSUMPTION. AND ITS CUEE.
me your master, — to dine even on my own kidneys, or my own
sweetbread ! But if I'll be consumptive any longer I'll be '*
The last word of the sentence, innocent or profane, was lost
in the loud slam of the street-door — for Mrs. Button's consump-
tive brother, disliking the turn of affairs, had quietly stolen out
of the parlour, and made his escape from the house.
" And did Mr. Withering observe his vow ? '*
Most religiously, Madam. Indeed, after dismissing Mrs.
Button with her " regimental rules," he went rather to the op-
posite extreme, and dined and supped so heartily on his legs
and shoulders, his breast and ribs, his loins, his heart, and liver,
and his calf's head, and moreover washed them down so freely
with wine, beer, and strong waters, that tliere was far more
danger of his going out with an Apoplexy than of his going into
a Consumption,
^"{H)
A FLEET OFF IHB MOIHEB BAKIC.
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD. 449
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD.*
*' A plague o' both the houses !" — Meroutio.
Thb Contest for the Professorship of Poetry at Oxford
cught hardly to be passed over in silence. Indeed it was
our original intention to have gone into the subject, whilst
it might have been treated as a cause pertaining solely to
the Belles Lettres, and equally unconnected with the great
bells that ring in Protestant steeples, or the little bells that
tinkle before Papistical altars. There was a classical seat to
be filled ; and it would never have occurred to us to examine
into the opinions of either candidate on abstruse questions
of divinity, any more than at the new-bottoming of an old
chair, we should have inquired whether the rushes were to
be supplied by the Lincolnshire Fens, or the Pontine Marshes.
That any but poetical qualifications were to be considered
would never have entered into our mind — we should as soon
have dreamt of the Judge at a Cattle Show awarding the
* This appeared about Christmas— a d&te whkix will be found to explnia
eome of its allusions.
450 THE UNIVERSITY FEUD.
Premium, not to the fattest and best fed beast, but to an ox
of a favourite colour. No — in our simplicity we should have
summoned the rival Poets before us, in black and white, and
made them give alternate specimens of their ability in the
tuneful art, like Daphnis and Strephon in the Pastoral —
** Then sing by turns, by turns the Muses sing :»»
and to the best of our humble judgment we should have
awarded the Prize Chair, squabs, castors and all, to the
melodious victor. As to demanding of either of the com-
petitors what he thought of the Viaticum, or Extreme
Unction, it would have seemed to us a far less pertinent
question than to ask the would-be Chairman of a Temper-
ance Society whether he preferred gin or rum. • We should
have considered the candidates, in fact, as Architects pro-
fessing to "build the lofty rhyme," without supposing its
possible connexion with the building of churches or chapels.
In that character only should we have reviewed the parties
before us ; and their several merits would have been dis-
cussed in an appropriate manner. Thus we might perhaps
have pointed out that Mr. Garbett possessed the finer ear,
but Mr. Williams the keener eye for the picturesque ; — that
the fellow of Brazen Nose had the greater command of lan-
guage, but the Trinity man displayed a better assortment of
images : and we might have particularized by quotations
where the first reminded us of a Glover or a Butler, and the
last of a Prior or a Pope. — We might also have deemed it
our duty to examine into the acquaintance of the parties
with the works of the Fathers, not of Theology but of
Poetry ; and it might have happened for us to inquire how
certain probationary verses stood upon their feet — but cer-
tainly not the when, where, or wherefore, the author went
down upon his knees. We should as soon have thought
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD. 451
of examining a professed Cook ^n circumnavigation, or a
theatrical Star in astronomy ; or of proposing to an Irish
chairman, of sedentary habits, to fill the disputed seat.
The truth is, that unlike a certain class of persons who
would go to the pole for polemics, and seek an altercation
at the altar, we have neither a turn nor a taste for religious
disputation, and therefore never expected nor wished to find
a theological controversy in a question of prosyversy. We
never conceived the suspicion that the Pere la Chaise of
Poetry might become a Confessor as well as a Professor, and
initiate his classes in the mysteries of Rome, any more than
we should have feared his converting them to the Polytheism
of the heathen Ovid, or that very blind Pagan old Homer.
On the contrary, our first inkling of a division at Oxford
concerning the Muses suggested to us simply that it must be
the old literary quarrel of the Classicists and the Romantic-
ists, or a dispute perhaps on the claims of Blank Verses to
get prizes. At any rate we should never have committed
such an anachronism as to associate Poetry, which is older
by some ages than Christianity, with either Protestantism or
Popery. It would have been like jumbling up Noah of Ark
with Joan of Arc, as man and wife !
Our first intentions, however, have been frustrated ; for
even while preparing for the task, as if by one of those
magical transformations peculiar to the season, the Chair has
turned into a Pulpit, and the rival collegians are transfigured
— pantomime fashion — into Martin Luther and the Pope of
Rome ! Such a metamorphosis places the performance be-
yond our critical pale ; but we will venture in a few sentences
to deprecate religious dissension, and to forewarn such as call
themselves friends of the church against the probable inter-
ference of those hot-headed and warm-tempered individuals
who seem, as the Irish gentleman said, to have been vac-
452 THE [JNIVERSITY FEUD.
ciliated from mad bulls. Such persons, may doubtless, mean
well ; but the best-intentioned people have sometimes far
more zeal than discretion, even as the medalsome Mathewite,
who thinks that he must drink water usque ad nauseam in
lieu of usque ad haugh ; or like that overhumane lady, who
feels so strongly against Capital Punishments and the gallows,
that she would hke to " hang Jack Ketch with her own
hands." Let the breach then be stopped in time. The fate
of a house divided against itself has been foretold ; and
Burely there cannot be a more dangerous and destructive
practice than where a crack presents itself to insert a wedge.
It is by a parallel process that many a magnificent Sea-
Palace has been broken up at Deptford — timber after timber,
plank after plank, till nothing was left entire, perhaps, but
the Figure-Head, staring, as only a figure-head can stare, at
the conversion of a noble Ship, by continual split, split,
splitting, into firewood, chips, and matches.
Seriously, then, we cannot discuss the University Feud iii
these pages : but our rules do not preclude us from giving
some account of a Little Go that seems to have been modelled
on tne great one, and which aptly serves to exemplify the
evil influence of bad example in high places.
A ROW AT THE OXFORD ARMS.
** Glorious Apollo, from on high behold us." — Old Song,
As latterly 1 chanced to pass
A Public House, from which, alas!
The Arms of Oxford dangle !
My ear was startled by a din,
That made me tremble in my skin,
A dreadful hubbub from within,
Of voices in a wrangle —
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD. 453
Voices loud, and voices high,
With now and then a party-cry,
Such as used in times gone by
To scare the British border ;
When foes from North and South of Tweed-
Neighbours — and of Christian creed —
Met in hate to fight and bleed,
Upsetting Social Order.
Surprised, I turn'd me to the crowd,
Attracted by that tumult loud,
And ask'd a gazer, beetle-brow' d,
The cause of such disquiet.
When lo ! the solemn-looking man.
First shook his head on Burleigh's plan,
And then, with fluent tongue, began
His version of the riot :
A row ! — why yes, — a pretty row, you might hear from this
to Garmany,
And what is worse, it's all got up among the Sons of Har«
mony.
The more's the shame for them as used to be in time and
tune,
And all unite in chorus like the singing-birds in June J
Ah ! many a pleasant chant I've heard in passing here
along,
When Swiveller was President a-knocking down a song ;
But Dick's resign'd the post, you see, and all them shouts
and hollers
Is 'cause two other candidates, some sort of lamed scholars,
Are squabbling to be Chau-man of the Glorious Apollers !
29
454 THE UNIVERSITY FEUD.
Lord knows their names, I'm sure I don't, no more than any
yokel,
But I never heard of either as connected with the vocal ;
Nay, some do say, although of course the public rumour
varies,
Tliey've no more warble in 'em than a pair of Len canaries
Though that might pass if they were dabs at t'other sort of
thing.
For a man may make a song, you know, although he cannot
sing ;
But lork ! it's many folk's belief they're only good at prosing,
For Catnach swears he never saw a verse of their composing ;
And when a piece of poetry has stood its public trials,
If pop'lar, it gets printed off at once in Seven Dials,
And then about all sorts of streets, by every little monkey,
It's chanted like the " Dog's Meat Man," or " If I had a
Donkey."
Whereas, as Mr. Catnach says, and not a bad judge neither.
No ballad — worth a ha'penny — has ever come from either,
And him as writ " Jim Crow," he says, and got such lots of
dollars.
Would make a better Chairman for the Glorious Apollers.
Howsomever that's the meaning of the squabble that arouses,
This neighbourhood, and quite disturbs all decent Heads of
Houses,
Who want to have- their dinners and their parties, as is reason
In Christian peace and charity according to the season.
But from Number Thirty-Nine — since this electioneering
job,
Ay, as far as Number Ninety, there's an everlasting mob ;
Till the thing is quite a nuisance, for no creature passes by.
But he gets a card, a pamphlet, or a summut in his eye ;
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD. 455
And a pretty noise there is ! — what with canvassers and
spouters,
For in course each side is fumish'd with its backers and its
touters ;
And surely among the Clergy to such pitches it is carried,
You can hardly find a Parson to get buried or get married ;
Or supposing any accident that suddenly alarms,
If you're dying for a surgeon, you must fetch him from the
"Arms;"
"While the Schoolmasters and Tooters are neglecting of their
scholars.
To write about a Chairman for the Glorious Apollers.
Well, that, sir, is the racket; and the more the sin and shame
Of them that help to stir it up, and propagate the same ;
Instead of vocal ditties, and the social flowing cup, —
But they'll be the House's ruin, or the shutting of it up,
With their riots and their hubbubs, like a garden full of bears,
While they've damaged many articles and broken lots of
squares.
And kept their noble Club Room in a perfect dust and
smother,
By throwing Morning Heralds^ Times, and Standards at each
other ;
Not to name the ugly language Gemmen oughtn't to repeat,
And the names they call each other — for I've heard 'em in
the street —
Such as Traitors, Guys, and Judases, and Vipers, and what
not,
For Pasley and his divers ain't so blowing-up a lot.
And then such awful swearing ! — for there's one of them
that cusses
Enough to shock the cads that hang on opposition 'busses ;
45^ THE UNIVERSITY FEUD.
For he cusses every member that's agin him at the poll,
As I wouldn't cuss a donkey, tho' it hasn't got a soul ;
And he cusses all their families, Jack, Harry, Bob or Jim,
To the babby in the cradle, if they don't agree with him.
Whereby, altho' as yet they have not took to use their fives,
Or, according as the fashion is, to sticking with their knives,
I'm bound there'll be some milling yet, and shakings by the
collars,
Afore they choose a Chairman for the Glorious Apollers !
To be sure it is a pity to be blowing such a squall.
Instead of clouds, and every man his song, and then his call —
And as if there wasn't Whigs enough and Tories to fall out,
Besides politics in plenty for our splits to be about, —
Why, a Cornfield is sufficient, sir, as anybody knows,
For to furnish them in plenty who are fond of picking
crows —
Not to name the Maynooth Catholics, and other Irish stews,
To agitate society and loosen all its screws ;
And which all may be agreeable and proper to their
spheres, —
But it's not the thing for musicals to set us by the ears.
And as to College larning, my opinion for to broach,
And I've had it from my cousin, and he driv a college
coach,
And so knows the University, and all as there belong
And he says that Oxford's famouser for sausages than songs.
And seldom turns a poet out like Hudson that can chant,
As well as make such ditties as the Free and Easiea want,
Or other Tavern Melodists I can't just call to mind —
But it's not the classic system for to propagate the kind.
Whereby it so may happen as that neither of them Scholai-s
May be the proper Chairman for the Glorious Apollei-s 1
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD. 457
For my part in the matter, if so be I had a voice,
It's the best among the vocahsts I'd honour with the choice j
Or a Poet as could furnish a new Ballad to the bunch ;
Or at any rate the surest hand at mixing of the punch ;
Cause why, the members meet for that and other tuneful
frolics —
And not to say, like Muffincaps, their Catichiz and CoUec's.
But you see them there Itinerants that preach so long and
loud,
And always takes advantage like the prigs of any crowd,
Have brought their jangling voices, and as far as they can
compass.
Have turn'd a tavern shindy to a seriouser rumpus.
And him as knows most hymns — altho' I can't see how it
follers — •
They want to be the Chairman of the Glorious ApoUers !
Well, that's the row — and who can guess the upshot after
all?
Whether Harmony will ever make the " Arms " her House
of call,
Or whether this here mobbins; — as some longish hea^Is
foretel it.
Will grow to such a riot that the Oxford Blues must quell it.
Howsomever, for the present, there's no sign of any peace.
For the hubbub keeps a growing, and defies the New Police; —
But if / was in the Vestry, and a leading sort of Man,
Or a Member of the Vocals, to get backers for my plan,
Why, I'd settle all the squabble in the twinkle of a needle.
For I'd have another candidate — and that's the Parish
Beadle,
Who makes such lots of Poetry, himself, or else by proxy,
And no one never has no doubts about his orthodoxy ;
458
THE UNIVERSITY FEUD.
Whereby — if folks was wise — instead of either of them
Scholars,
And straining their own lungs along of contradictious hollers,
They'll lend their ears to reason, and take my advice as
foUers,
Namely — Bumble for the Chairman of the Glorious ApoUersI
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 459
A REFLECTION ON NEW YEAE'S EVE,
•' Those Evening Bells — those Evening Bells 1 "
How sweet they used to be, and dear !
When full of all that Hope foretells,
Their voice proclaim'd the new-born Year I
But, ah ! much sadder now I feel.
To hear that old melodious chime.
Recalling only how a Peel
Has tax'd the comings-in of Time !
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
** I cannot but advise all considering men whose lives are attended
with such extraordinary incidents as mine, or even though not so extra-
ordinary, not to slight such secret intimations of Providence, let them
come from what invisible intelligence they wilL That, I shall not dis-
cuss : but certainly they are a proof of the converse of spirits, and a
secret communication between those embodied and those unembodied,
and such a proof as can never be withstood.
" That such hints and notices are given us, I believe few that have
made any observations of things can deny : that they are certain dis-
coveries of an invisible world, and a converse of spirits, we cannot doubt ;
and if the tendency of them be to warn us of danger, why should we
not suppose they are from some friendly agent (whether supreme,
or inferior, and subordinate, is not the question), and that they are
given for our good ? " — Robinson Ckusoe.
" And the Devil is still ready at hand with his evil suggestions, to
tempt our depraved will to some ill-disposed action.
" He begins first with the phantasie, and moves that so strongly, that
no reason is able to resist." — Bubton.
It has been a favourite notion with enthusiasts and vision-
aries of various denominations, and in aU ages, that we have
an intimate intercourse with the invisible world : that we
are guided in wholesome or prejudicial courses, and urged
to virtuous or sinful actions, by the promptings of good and
evil spirits. Defoe, from whom I have taken my mottoes,
evidently inclined to this belief : his earnest repetition of the
argument shows that he personally entertained the senti-
ments on the subject which he has attributed to his hero.
460 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
It is true that the quotations have reference only to
benevolent ministerings ; but the author does not therefore
repudiate an infernal agency. On the contrary, Crusoe
readily ascribes to the Devil the mysterious foot-print on the
sand, howbeit the impression is of a man's naked sole,
instead of the old traditional hoof. In fact, to judge from
the writings and preachings of certain sectarians, the satanical
interference in human affairs is much more direct and
constant than the providential : the Devil in propria persond
(for his likeness is as well known as if it had been calotyped
by Collen^or daguerreotyped by Beard), having an audible
voice and a visible finger in the most humble of their
domestic concerns. Moreover, this theory of an infernal
intercourse is especially maintained by the weak and the
wicked, to whom it affords a convenient plea in mitigation, if
not an absolute transfer of their guilt, just as a little boy
lays his fault on a bigger and older instigator. Thus when
such a sinner breaks some divine commandment, or violates
some human law — if he marries one woman too few, or two
women too many — if he mistakes his neighbour's horse for
his own ass — or swears to the wrong fact in an affidavit — or
sticks his knife in a forbidden sheath — or absently sets fire
to his house instead of light to his fire — ^whatever error the
misguided creature may commit, the blame attaches not to
him, but to a certain personage, who has appropriately been
represented like a sort of black Scape Goat,' with horns and a
tail. In a word — the poor sinner has been the victim of ** a
Diabolical Suggestion."
This popular belief received some thirty years ago a
striking confirmation in the dreadful murder of an elderly
couple, who were killed in bed by their footman. There was
no robbery committed, and the motive of the assassin waa
enveloped in the deepest mystery. The ordinary temptations
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 461
to such crimes were all absent — there was no injury to
revenge, no hatred to gratify, no cupidity to indulge, no
delinquency to conceaL According to his own account, and
in which the criminal persisted at the gibbet, the deed
originated in a sudden and unaccountable inspiration. He
had been asleep, and on waking the thought came into his
head — he could not tell how — to go and kill his master and
mistress. In vain he strove to banish the diabolical
suggestion — the horrible idea still haunted him with
increasing importunity, till the struggle becoming intolerable
and the impulse irresistible — the murder was consummated !
And was there really in this case any positive Satanical
prompting — an actual whisper from the Prince of Darkness ?
It is impossible for mortal man to reply in the negative : but
one may at least show that no such cause was necessary to
the effect — that a direct infernal instigation was not indis-
pensable to the bloody consequence. It is quite possible
that the first fearful hint was the offspring of a dream —
either a sleeping or waking one — for the opening of the
outward organ does not simultaneously close that other eye,
which gazes inwardly at another theatre, with its own stage,
its own scenery, its own actors, and its own dramas. From
the fragments of some visionary tragedy, just abruptly
terminated, it was quite possible for the imagination to com-
pound a new plot, incoherently mixed up with the dawning
actualities of the house and its inmates. And hence the
catastrophe. The mere entrance and entertainment of an
unlawful speculation in an ignorant, vicious, and ill-governed
mind seems to involve the final working out of the scheme.
The more atrocious the proposal, the more vividly it presents
itself, — the more horrible its features, the more frequently
they recur ; as a bad dream is oftener remembered than a
good one. The man becomes in reality the slave of his own
462 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
depraved imagination — its persecutions wear out what
remains of his better nature, and submitting at last to its
goadings, he performs the abominable task. Thus the
Killing in Thought begets the Killing in Act ; for which
reason, perhaps, the first Murderer was branded, not in the
hand, but on the forehead.
" The wise only," says Coleridge, " possess ideas : the
greater part of mankind are possessed by them " — i.e.y as a
person is said to be possessed by an evil spirit or demon : a
saying so true that we have only to look round us to discover
hundreds of men and women, gentle and simple, in this state
of mental thraldom ; and in consequence, daily committing
acts so mischievous to themselves or to others, as to seem
the plausible results of Diabolical Suggestions. In this
category one may perhaps include such malefactors as Oxford
and Francis, for whose traitorous attempts there has
hitherto appeared no adequate motive. It is not necessary,
however, to suppose any treasonable conspiracy — a political
purpose, a popular disloyalty, or a private enmity. The
original sin needs not be of so deep a dye. The empty
vapourings of a conceited, shallow-witted potboy, the melo-
dramatic plottings of the son of a stage carpenter, would
suffice, on the principle laid down, to induce the criminal
result. The frequent repetitions of notorious offences — and
in the case of Francis, the servility of the copy — the use of
the same kind of weapon and the choice of the identical spot
— are favourable to this hypothesis. An atrocious idea,
wantonly entertained in the first instance, is pampered and
indulged, tiU like a spoilt child it tyrannises over its parent ;
and vociferously overwhelming the still small voice of
conscience and reason — perhaps stiller and smaller than
usual, in the individual — compels him to submit to the
growing imperiousness of its dictates. The mind — the sober,
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 463
honest, and industrious servant of the wise and good — is the
lord and master of the weak and wicked. And this is
especially true of the Imagination — ^lovely and beneficent as
the delicate Ariel under the command of a gifted Prospero —
but headstrong, brutish, and devilish as Caliban turned out —
according to a later history — when the wand that held him
in subjection was broken !
A delinquency from this cause — though immeasurably
distant in turpitude from the offences just mentioned — was
committed, no matter when, nor where, nor by whom ; but
he was a medical student in our metropolis. Amongst
his other destructive or dangerous instruments he possessed
a rifle ; and along with it a diploma which entitled him
to practice- on certain days, with other members of a
shooting society at a club-target. At these meetings, the
student was a constant attendant and competitor — never
dreaming, however, of hitting anything but bull's-eyes — till
one unlucky day it suddenly came into his head — he could
not tell by what orifice — ^to wonder if he could kill a deer.
From that hour the notion haunted him like a ghost — in his
bed, at his meals, at his prayers even, or during a walk —
which, in fancy, was only a Deer-stalking.
It occurred to him, whilst he listened to his patients — he
knew that he could bring down a sick man, but could he kill
a fat buck 1 He could operate fatally, as he was aware, on
the human body — but could he do the same by a stag ? The
tormenting problem interfered with his professional studies
— and at the Hospital, while the lecturer was explaining the
functions of auricle and ventricle, the disciple was taking aim
along an imaginary gun-barrel at an ideal Hart.
At length — the cacoethes, as he called it, became so
unbearable, that obeying what Lord E and his keeper
would certainly have considered a Diabolical Suggestion, the
464 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
rifleman posted down to C Park, and unceremoniously
put a ball at 120 paces into the cranium of a monarch of the
forest. The creature, as usual in such c^ses, sprang wildly
aloft, and then fell dead, and the mental craving expired
along with it. From that moment, the student declared he
would not have given a light farthing to kill another deer,
even though he had held his rifle in his hand, and the Earl's
permission in his pocket.
It appears, then, that an unpruned imagination, backed by
an inveterate memory, may produce evil consequences in the
physical world, without any supernatural instigations. But
by way of illustration let me adduce two more instances, the
first being of a ludicrous character — the second more serious
in its tone and tragical in its termination.
Amongst my intimates of ten years ago, there was one
named Horace , a young man of a speculative turn of
mind, and as often happens with such a character, of rather
eccentric habits. When I first knew him he was professedly
studying for the Bar : but his reading had little to do with
the dusty tomes of the law. What he did read might be
gathered from his conversation, from which it appeared that
his favourite authors were those who put forward the greatest
number of ingenious paradoxes, or the most fantastical theo-
ries. There was, in fact, a Shandean twist in his mind that
inclined him to all kinds of whimsical speculations, and that
favourite pastime with such philosophers, the flying of meta-
physical kites.
He lived — a bachelor — in a small house in * * * street,
with a limited establishment of domestics, amongst whom
he possessed, I verily believe, the plainest maid-servant in all
England. Ugliness was out of the question ; that has its
expression and its interest, which may become even painful
or fearful ; whereas, the longer you looked at Sally's coun-
DIAFOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 465
tenance, the more ordinary it appeared. Lavater himself
would have been puzzled to find in it any physiognomical
character. It was as plain as a hard dumpling, and as insipid
as gruel without sugar or salt. There was not a single line
or marking in the whole visage to redeem it from the vacancy
of a blank commonplace-book, it was universally flat and
barren of meaning, as plain as Salisbury Plain — ^without a
Stonehenge. Her figure was made to match. Her body would
have done for a quadruped as well as for a biped, for it
had no waist in the middle, and was furnished with limbs so
unshapely, that her arms would have served for legs, and her
legs for arms. Her feet were peculiar, and the pattern they
would have stamped on a soft sand would have deserved a
patent for originality. As to the other extremities, I am
not naturalist enough to know whether there be amongst
animals any physical gradation of hands into paws ; but if
there be, her hands were of that intermediate order, with
five fingers apiece which seemed to have degenerated, or
rather to have been aggravated into thumbs, and moreover
each member was enveloped in a skin red as beet, and of a
texture to have rasped away the stoutest towelling. In
short, she seemed to have been created expressly for
a maid of all-work to some utilitarian — not for show, but
use — not very sightly, but very serviceable — like the ancient
turnspits.
To her master she was invaluable : being not only sober,
honest, and industrious, but frugal, steady, and above all,
accustomed to his odd ways and whims, which she had learned
to suit during a five years' service.
Judge, then, of my astonishishment, when on dining,
tSte-a-tete, with my friend Horace, the " old familiar face,"
whose plainness had invariably been attendant on the plain
dinner, was deficient ! Such a domestic phenomenon it was
466 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
impossible to observe -without comment ; and when the cloth
had been removed I ascertained that Sally had been parted
with : but for some mysterious reason which her master did
not seem inclined to communicate.
" Had she robbed him ? "
" No."
" Or been saucy V*
"No."
" Or taken to drinking 1**
"No."
"Become idle or dirty ? **
"No."
There was another contingency, though it seemed idle to
mention it. " Was she married 1 "
" Married ! my dear fellow, did you ever look at her face ?
Why it was as plain as the plain Staffordshire ware — the
dirty yellow sort without a sprig of pattern ! "
And his eyes became fixed, as if he really saw that homely
face before him, while he went on talking, or rather thinking
aloud.
" Marry her ? No, no — Nature has forbidden the banns.
No man, with eyes in his head would have dreamt of it — so
thoroughly homely ! And then that coarse, clumsy, red,
rough, huckaback hand ! "
" Yes — it was coarse, red, and clumsy enough. I have
often noticed it as she waited at table."
" You have 1 " said he, rather eagerly. " And did you
ever think of kissing it ? "
" No — ^most certainly."
" / have" said he ; " and what is more, have been within
an ace of doing it. Though it must have been • ^"
And he again relapsed into his abstraction, and looked as
if he saw that " red right hand " before him.
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. ' 467
« — Though it must have been like kissing a gi-ater."
I looked steadily at the speaker; but he was perfectly
serious; indeed he was little given to jokes practical or
verbal
He was quite in earnest, therefore, about the salute,
though what it had to do with poor Sally's dismissal was
beyond conjecture. However, by dint of pressing, I extracted
the truth. He had discharged her for no fault on her side —
it was all owing to a propensity of his own — which he bitterly
anathematised, "His confounded habit of speculating and
theorising, even on matters of moonshine."
" Poor Sally ! " said he, " you know how homely she was.
I need not describe her face — you must have looked and
wondered at it often and often — for there could not be such
another in Nature. For my own part, she attracted me as
much, or more than any of your professed beauties. And
why not ? she was as much a paragon in her own way as
Marie Antoinette, or the Duchess of Devonshire. Well, from
looking at her, I must needs begin speculating, like a dream-
ing fool as I am, if she could ever have found an admirer
— whether, with all the diversity of human tastes, her form
and features could ever have met with liking. Could a face of
such vapid homeliness inspire a partiality 1 Was it possible,
that it could find favour in the eyes even of the most coarse,
vulgar, and unrefined of her own species — a Yorkshire ostler
or a Paddington bargeman 1 Was it within probability that
she had ever heard the slightest expression of admiration —
the remotest approach to a personal compliment — even
from the potboy ? Never — never ! And then her figure —
that strange clumsy shape, — ' if shape it could be called that
shape had none ' — equally devoid of lines of beauty and lines
of deformity, a mere bundle of human flesh, could it ever
have attracted a ticket-porter or a warehouseman, accustomed
468 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
to unsymmetrical bags, bales, baggage, and packages of goods
in bulk — could her model and proportions have interested
even a lighterman, or ballast-heaver, used to the contempla-
tion of the rudest craft, the most ungainly hulks, expressly
built for the coarsest drudgery 1 Never ! And as to an
offer, as it is called, the mere idea of suing for that red,
stumpy, rough hand — ^but confound her hand ! I'll tell you
what, my dear fellow, I am convinced that some of our thoughts
are neither more nor less than Diabolical Suggestions ! "
" It is a rather general opinion."
" I am certain, at least, that only some demon of malice or
mischief could have put into my head to inquire, * What if 1
were suddenly to seize and imprint a kiss on that red, scrubby
hand ? ' She who probably had never received a salute since
her childhood — not even from a tipsy hawbuck in fair-time — ■
to receive such a love-token from a gentleman 1 She, who
from her teens, had never been addressed with love-nonsense,
even by the baker or his journeyman, to receive a tacit decla-
ration of the passion from her own master ! The flutter
there would be of new-bom Vanity — the tumult of awakened
Hope ! In short, I went on in my own dreamy way, specu-
lating on the revolution in poor Sally's mind, the sudden
change that might be wrought in all her old sentiments and
feelings by such an extraordinary occurrence. And with
any other man the foolish whim would have passed away,
harmless, with the hour that gave rise to it ; but it is my
misfortune to be cursed with a memory which daguerreo-
types every image, and stereotypes every hypothesis, however
crude, vague, or idle, that it has once entertained. From
that day forward the unlucky girl was associated with that
confounded speculation, and the idea of that ridiculous
manual experiment came up as regularly as my dinner.
There she was before me, with her plain unloveable face —
*
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 469
and if she placed a dish, or changed my plate — there was the
red, scrubby hand — suppose I were to kiss it ? "
«Ha! ha! ha!"
" Yes, you may laugh ; but you do not know the misery
of such a besetting fancy. To be teased for hours by a
haunting tune, or a nonsense verse, is bad enough ; but to be
bored by your own thoughts for days, weeks, and months, is
intolerable. In fact, by the constant recurrence of the
kissing notion, the mere sight of the coarse red hand begot a
mechanical impulse that had to be resisted like a temptation.
I have felt my lips, as it were, making themselves up for the
act — and the wonder is, that I have never done it involun-
tarily; as, to a certainty, I ♦must some day have done it
deliberately, to get rid of the torment of the suggestion.
There was no alternative, therefore, but to banish the object ;
and accordingly under the pretence of reducing my estabHsh-
ment, poor Sally, with an excellent character for moral beauty,
has been transferred to my sister in the country."
"Yes, and as a provision against any such temptations
in future, you have wisely engaged a new maid, as lovely and
loveable as Perdita, and as ' neat-handed ' as Phillis."
Shortly after this conversation, I went to the Continent,
where I remained for some years ; and on my return, one of
my first visits was to my friend Horace. He was at home,
and as usual of a morning, in his little study, whence, after
a short conversation, he proposed an adjournment to the
drawing-room in the first floor. Accordingly, still chattering,
he led the way to the foot of the staircase, which I was about
to ascend, when suddenly, in the very midst of a sentence, he
hastily rushed past me and ran, or rather flew, up the car-
jjcted steps, three stairs at a time. Eccentric as he had
elways been, his character had hardly prepared me for this
flight, and I hesitated to follow, till his voice came down from
30
470 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. -
the top landing-place, earnestly begging me to excuse his
rudeness, and promising an explanation.
This, however, I had already forestalled, and so confidently,
that on entering the drawing-room, I seemed to see the figure
of an alarmed female, in a morning wrapper and curl-papers,
escaping by an opposite door. But there was neither
opposite door nor disconcerted lady of the house : the only
living figure in the room was Horace himself, looking rather
flustered and foolish after his recent performance. As soon
as he saw m.e he renewed his apologies, but in spite of the
query in my face, the explanation was not forthcoming : he
was evidently vexed and mortified, and when I directly
applied for the promised elucidation, it was postponed till
after our lunch, in the hope, perhaps, that the matter would
escape my memory. But I was not to be so defrauded : the
remembrance of former odd freaks, and the wild and
whimsical theories in which they had originated, determined
me to pluck out the heart of his mystery, — to obtain the
solution of his acted riddle. I began, therefore, by congratu-
lating him on his agility, of which he had furnished me with
such a singular illustration ; but this hint not taking effect,
I fairly reminded him, that with all thanks for his hospitable
refreshments, he had excited another appetite, which he was
bound in honour to pacify ; that the cravings of my curiosity
remained to be appeased, and to forestal any wilful misap
prehension of my meaning, I hummed a few bars of the
popular melody — " Sich a gettin' up Stairs ! "
" Ah — it may be a joke to you,'' said Horace, looking very
serious and frog-like ; " but it is death to me ! My health, as
you know, is none of the strongest, and these violent
exercises are not adapted to improve it ! "
'* Then why indulge in them ? There can be no necessity
for a gentleman's running up his own staircase as you did —
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 471
unless, like the Poor Gentleman in the comedy, he mistakes
his friend for a bailiff."
" No ! — My dear fellow, you are quite mistaken — but that
is your happiness. You have not my cursed speculative
imagination — nor my tenacious, inveterate memory — and
you will never die a martyr, as I shall, to a Diabolical
Suggestion."
« A what?"
" A prompting from the Devil."
" Why — I hope not. I am no Methodist, to have the Old
Gentleman at my ear and my elbow. But I beg pardon —
you have perhaps joined the sect — or may be the Sweden-
borgians, who believe in an intercourse with good and evil
spirits."
" Neither. It is noi necessary to be a follower of the
Count or of Whitfield, to be subject to such infernal influence.
You remember the study I had engaged in just before you
went abroad 1 "
« Yes — of the German language. And you were learning
it with your accustomed gluttony, as if you wanted to get
from the tip to the root of the tongue in a single week."
" Ah, I had better have taken to the Chinese ! My
mastery of the Teutonic language was the source of my
misfortune. You are famiUar, of course, with the German
Romances 1 "
" Only in the translations."
*' You know, then, the prominent part which is played by
the Devil in their most popular stories. More prominent
even than in Paradise Lost, where Satan figures, not in the
ascendant, but as the rebellious antagonist of a still mightier
Power, and the divine scheme of Human Redemption moves
parallel with the diabolical plot for Human Perdition. In
the German Romances, on the contrary, the Fiend possesses
472 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
the earth, and reigns as absolutely as any Lord Paramount
of the feudal ages. Nay, his sway extends beyond this world
to the world to come, and he has power over life and death,
not only the temporary, but the eternal. The legitimate
Governor of the Universe has been deposed, and there is a
frightful interregnum — Anarchy succeeds to Order — and the
blind random decrees of Chance supersede the ordinances of
a sciential Providence. Immortal souls are lost by the turn
of a die or a card, or saved by some practical subterfuge or
verbal evasion. Fraud and Violence alone are triumphant.
Justice is blind and Mercy is deaf — the innocent bosom
receives the bullet that was moulded with unholy rites ; and
the maiden, whose studies never extended beyond her prayer
book, is involved in the fate of the ambitious student who
bartered his salvation for interdicted knowledge. In short,
you seem to recognise that dreary fiction of the atheist
— a World without a God. Such is the German Dia-
blerie!" ' .
" You are too severe."
" Not at all. Look even at the Faust. Youth and
Innocence, personified in poor Margaret, have no chance.
She has no fair field, and assuredly no favour. The fight is
too imequal. She has to contend single-handed against Man
and Mephistophiles, the witchcraft of human love and the
sorcery of Satanic hatred. The Prince of HeU in person acts
Bupematurally against her — but Heaven is passive, and
works no miracle in her behalf. There is no help on earth
— ^no pity in the skies — the guardian spirits and ministers of
grace supposed to hover round, and to succour oppressed
innocence, keep far aloof — the weak is abandoned to the
strong — and the too tender and trusting nature is burdened,
through a sheer diabolical juggle, with the unnatural murder
of a Mother. The trial is beyond Humanity. The
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 473
seductions of Faust are backed by the artifices of the subtle
Spirit that overcame Eve ; and Margaret falls as she needs
must under such fearful odds — and seemingly unwatched by
that providential eye which marks the fall of a sparrow.
There is indeed the final chorus from Heaven, that ' She is
saved ! ' but was any mind ever satisfied — were you ever
satisfied with that tardy exhibition of the Divine Justice —
just as Poetical Justice is propitiated at the end of some
wretched melo-dramatic novel, wherein at the twelfth hour
the long-persecuted heroine is unexpectedly promoted to a
state of happiness ever after ? "
" Well — there is some show of truth and reason in your
criticism — but, revenir cb nos moutons — what has either
Faust or the Freyschutz to do with your scampering up
Btairs 1 "
" Everything. After learning German, my first use of the
Acquisition was to go through all their Komances, and
consequently a regular course of Diablerie — from the Arch
Demon who inhabited Pandemonium, to the Imp that lived
in a bottle — from the scholar who bartered his soul, to the
fellow who sold his own shadow. The consequence I might
have forefc;een. My head became stuffed with men in black
and black dogs — with unholy compacts, and games of chance.
I dreamt of Walpurgis Revels and the Wolfs Glen — Zamiel
glared on me with his fiery eyes by night ; and the smooth
voice of Mephistopheles kept whispering in my ear by day.
Wherever my thoughts wandered, there was the foul Fiend
straddling across their path, like Bunyan's ApoUyon — ready
to play with me for my immortal soul at cards or dice — to
strike infernal bargains, and to execute unholy contracts to
be signed with blood and sealed with sulphur. In a word, I
was completely be-Devilled."
" But the stairs — the running up stairs 1 "
474 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
•' The result of my too intimate acquaintance ^ith so
much folly and profanity — a kind of bet. S' death ! I'm
ashamed to mention it ! — a sort of wager that came into my
head one day — a diabolical suggestion of course — that the
Fiend might have me body and soul, in default of my
reaching the top of the stairs before counting a certain
number ! "
" What ! a wager with the Devil ! "
" Yes — the infernal suggestion — for it was an infernal
suggestion — was whispered to me at the stair-foot ; and
as if my salvation had really depended on the issue, I was
up the whole flight in an instant. The next moment
sufficed to convince me of the absurdity, not to say sinful-
ness, of the act ; but what defence is our deliberate reason
against such sudden impulses % Before reflection could come
into play, the thing was done and over. Nor was that the
end. You remember my irresistible prompting to kiss the
red, rugged hand of poor Sally ? "
« Perfectly."
"Well there was the same mental process. You know
how much our ideas are the slaves of association — and
especially they are so in a tenacious mind like mine, in which
the most trivial fancies obtain a permanent record. To find
myself near any stairs was enough therefore to revive the
diabolical hint — the mere sight of a banister set me off* — in
fact, before the month was out I had raced again, again, and
again, not only up my own flight, but up those of half my
friends and acquaintances."
It was impossible to help laughing at this description.
The picture of a gentleman scampering up people's stairs,
with the agility of a lamplighter, was, as I said in my
apology, so very comical.
" Humph ! Not if you knock down your own servant
DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS. 475
with the tray, or frighten an old rich aunt into hysterics —
both of which I have performed within the last week."
** But you might perhaps break yourself — "
" Never ! it's impossible ! As I said before, the mere
sight of the banisters is enough. Besides, from practice,
the thing has become a habit, and the mental prompting is
backed by a bodily impulse. No ; " and he shook his head
very gravely, " I shall never leave it off — except by death.
And with my state of health, to run full speed up a long
flight, — there are six-and-twenty stairs, and two' sharp turns
— under penalty of eternal perdition, before one could count
a score — "
" Why, surely you do not believe in the validity of such a
wager ! "
"Heaven alone knows," replied Horace,*' very solemnly
who, if he had not been made positively superstitious by his
German reading, and his familiarity with the supernatural,
had at least learned to regard the abstract evil principle as
a real and active personage. " I have tried over and over
again to argue myself into your opinion. But all my reason
ing and casuistry are of no avail against a sort of vague mis-
giving ; and, as the forfeit is too awful to be risked on a
doubt, I always take care, as far as in me lies, to secure the
stake, by winning the wager — that is to say, by getting to
the top before I can count twenty."
" You might secure it by slow counting."
** As if that would retard his ! No, my dear fellow, there
is no cheating him ! To tell the truth, I shudder at times
to think what may happen to me — a fall — a sprain — the
encounter of other people on the stairs — a loose rod — the cat
or dog — which, by the bye, shall be sent away "
I looked again, full in Horace's face ; but he was as grave
as a Judge, and evidently in sad, sober earnest : as indeed
476 DIABOLICAL SUGGESTIONS.
appeared the next minute, when he went off into one of his
fits of abstraction, but continued to talk to himself. From
what he muttered it was plain that he was in the predica-
ment of the people described by Coleridge as " possessed "
by their own ideas. Some of his expressions even impressed
me with a doubt of his perfect sanity — whether he was not
under the influence of a kind of monomania. However, I
tried to laugh and reason him out of his "wager," but the
attempt was futile, and I took my leave.
" God bless you, my dear fellow ! " and the tears filled his
eyes as he energetically squeezed my hand, "it is the last
time you will see me — mark my words. However it may
affect me hereafter^ that Diabolical Suggestion has done for
me here — and will hurry me to my grave !
Poor Horace ! His prediction was too true. On calling
upon him a month afterwards, I found that he had let and
removed from his old residence : but one of his servants had
remained with the new tenants, and was able to give me
some particulars of her ex-master. His health had suddenly
broken — his complaint declaring itself to be a decided
organic affection of the heart, and he had suffered from
violent palpitations and spasms in the chest. The doctors
had ordered change of air and scene — and about a fortnight
before he had gone into the country, somewhere in Sussex,
where he was Hving in a cottage, that, as she significantly
added, was " all on one floor." But alas ! she was incom-ect
in her statement. He was living nowhere; for that very
morning he had gone to call on the clergyman of the parish,
and after a flight — which made the footman believe that he
had admitted a madman, dropped dead on the last top step
of the drawing-room stairs !
A HARD CASE.
477
NOW FOK AN effect!'
A HAUD CASE.
*' Who shall decide when doctors disagree ?
'Tis with their judgments as their watches, none
Go just alike, but each believes hia own." — Popb,
That Doctors differ, has become a common proverD ; and
truly, considering the peculiar disadvantages under which they
labour, their variances are less wonders than matters of course.
If any man works in the dark, like a mole, it is the Physician.
He has continually, as it were, to divine the colour of a pig in a
poke — or a cat in the bag. He is called in to a suspected trunk
without the policeman's privilege of a search. He is expected
478
A HARD CASE.
to pass Judgment on a physical tragedy going on in the house
of life, without the critic's free admission to the performance.
lie is tasked to set to rights a disordered economy, without, as
the Scotch say, going *' 3e»," and must guess at riddles hard as
Sampson's as to an animal with a honey-combed inside. In
fact, every malady is an Enigma, and when the doctor gives you
over, he " gives it up."
A few weeks ago one of these puzzles, and a very intricate one,
was proposed to the faculty at a metropolitan hospital. The
disorder was desperate : the patient writhed and groaned ia
agony — but his lights as usrial thiew none on the subject. In
A HARD CASE.
479
the meantime the case made a noise, and medical men of all
degrees and descriptions, magnetizers, homoeopathists, hydro-
pathists, mad doctors, sane doctors, quack doctors, and even
horse doctors, flocked to the ward, inspected the symptoms, and
then debated and disputed on the nature of the disease. It was
in the brain, the heart, the liver, the nerves, the muscles, the
skin, the blood, the kidneys, the " globes of the lungs," " the
DE LUNATICO INQCIBKNDO.
momentum," " the pancras," " the capilaire vessels," and the
" gutty sereny." Then for its nature ; it was chronic, and acute,
and intermittent, and non-contagious, and "ketching," and
"inflammable," and " heredittary," and "eclectic," and Lord
knows what besides. However, the discussion ended in a com-
plete wrangle, and every doctor being mounted on his own
480 AN EPIGRAM.
theory, never was tl^e such a scene since the Grand Combat of
Hobby Horses at the end of Mr. Bayes's Kehearsal !
** IV i in his stomach ! " finally shouted the House- Surgeon,
— after the departing disputants, — " ifs in his stomach ! "
The poor patient, who in the inteiTal had been listening be-
tween his groans, no sooner heard this decision, than his head
seemed twitched by a spasm, that also produced a* violent wink
of the left eye. At the same time he beckoned to the surgeon.
" You're all right. Doctor — as right as a trivet."
"I know I am," said the surgeon, — "it's in your stomach."
" It w in my stomach, sure enough."
" Yes — ^flying gout — "
" Flying what ! " exclaimed the patient. " No, no sich luck,
Doctor,'* and he made a sign for the surgeon to put his ear near
his lips, " it's six Hogs and a Bull, as I've swaller'd."
AN EPIGEAM.
*Tis said of Lord B., none is keener that he
To spit a Wild Boar with eclat ;
But he never gets near to the Brute with his spear.
He gives it so very much laio.
ON THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY,
481
ON THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY,
TAKEN BY THE DAGUERREOTYPE.
Yes, there are her features ! her brow, and her hair,
And her eyes, with a look so seraphic,
Her nose, and her mouth, with the smile that is there.
Truly caught by the Art Photographic !
Yet why should she borrow such aid of the skies.
When by many a bosom's confession,
Htr own lovely face, and the light of her eyes,
Are sufficient to make an impression ?
TilS LADX VS COMUS.
482 THE LEEj SHORE.
THE LEE SHORK
Sleet ! and Hail ! and Thunder I
And ye Winds that rave,
1 ill the sands thereunder
Tinge the sullen wave —
Winds, that like a Demon,
Howl with horrid note
Round the toiling Seaman,
In his tossing boat —
From his humble dwelling,
On the shingly shore,
Where the billows swelling,
Keep such hollow roar—
From that weeping Woman,
Seeking with her cries.
Succour superhuman
From the frowning skies—
From the Urchin pining
For his Father's knee —
From the lattice shining — •
Drive him out to sea !
Let broad leagues dissever
Him from yonder foam—
Oh, God ! to think Man ever
Comes too near his Home i
ENGLISH RETROGRESSION.
483
ENGLISH RETROGRESSION.
•' Back her! " shouted the Captain, from the paddle-box of the
Lively to the cabin-boy on the deck, who repeated the command
to the engineer in the hold — and the paddles being reversed to
order, the packet, with a retrograde motion, began to approach
the pier, to which she was soon secured by a hawser. Her
passage across the Channel had been a rough one : but as all
passages come to an end at last, she had arrived in a Prench
harbour and smooth water.
There is this advantage in a stormy voyage by sea, that it
makes one land on a foreign soil as cordiady as if it were native ;
and accordingly with the most perfect satisfaction I found myself
standing, high and dry, in that seaport, the name of whica
484 ENGLISH EETROGRESSION.
Queen Mary of England, surnamed the Bloody, declared would
be found engraven on her heart — the earliest instance, by the
by, of lithography. For my own part, my heart was also deeply
interested in the locality, which, to an Englishman, is classical
ground, and associated with literary fictions as wtll as historical
facts. Not to name a certain slender figure of £ Traveller iu
" CIKCVMSTAlfCES OVKE WHICH I HAVB NO CONTBOjU"
black, with a clerical wig and hat, my mind's eye was filled with
the familiar phantoms of personages almost as real to me as the
place itself ; and the very scenery in which they had played
their parts was shortly to be before me. With the help of a
Calais touter, I had found my way to the wrong Hotel, the
master of which stood bowing to me, as only a Frenchman can bow,
and congratulating me — or rather all France — if not all Europe,
ENGLISH RETROGRESSION.
485
on my safe arrival. In compliment to my nation, he pretended
to use our native language, but of course it was a strange jargon
— for it seems to be the pleasure of *' our Sweet Enemy
France " — as Sir Philip Sidney called her — since she cannot
break our ranks, or our banks, or our hearts, heads, winds, or
spirits, to break our English. But my head and heart were too
full of Monsieur Dessein, the Mendicant Monk, the Desobligeant,
the Remise, the Fair Fleming, and the Snuff-Box, to notice or
resent the liberties that were taken with our insular tono:ue. .
^^-.S^-
*'MAT we NK'er TTANT a FRIltND, OR A BOTTLB TO GIVE HIM."
" And now, Monsieur," said I, after bandying civilities which
employed us to the top of the first flight of stairs — ** and now.
Monsieur, be pleased to show me the chamber which was occupied
by the Author of the * Sentimental Journey.' '*
*' La journee ? "
" Yes, the apartment of our Tri&tram Shandy."
** L'apartement — triste — " 3 1
486 AN EriGRAM.
" Exactly : the room where he had the memorable interview
with the Monk of the Franciscan order."
** Order? — ahl— oui — ^yes — you shall order, Sare, what you
will please — "
" All in good time, Monsieur, — but I must first see the room
that was tenanted by our immortal Sterne."
♦• Sterne ! " ejaculated my host — « eh ? — Sterne ?— Diable
I'emporte !— it is de oder Hotel. Mon Dieu ! c'est une drole
de chose — but de English pepels when dey come to Calais, dey
always come Sterne foremost ! '*
EPIGRAM.
Three traitors, Oxford — Francis — Bean,
Have missed their wicked aim ;
And may all shots against the Queen,
In future do the same :
For why, I mean no turn of wit,
But seriously insist.
That if Her Majesty were hit.
No one would be so miss'd.
BPBINQ A^D FALL,
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 487
EPIGRAM
ON THE DEPRECIATED MONEY.
They may talk of the plugging and sweating.
Of our coinage that's minted of gold,
But to me it produces no fretting
Of its shortness of weight to be told :
All the sov'reigns I'm able to levy
As to lightness can never be wrong,
But must surely be some of the heavy,
Jor I never can carry them long.
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
A CITY ROMANCE.
CHAPTER I.
"She entered his shop, which was very neat and spacious, and he
received her with all the marks of the most profound respect, entreat-
ing her to sit down, and showing her with his hand the most honourable
place." — Arabian Nights.
Mr. Booby was in his shop, his back to the fire and his
face to the Times, when happening to look above the upper
edge of the newspaper, towards the street, he caught sight
of an equipage that seemed familiar to him.
Could it be !
Yes, it was the same dark brown chariot, with the drab
liveries, — the same gray horses, with the same crest on the
harness, and above all, the same lady-face was looking
through the carriage window !
In a moment Mr. Booby was at his glass-door, obsequiously
ushering the fair customer into his shop, where with his
profoundest bow and his sunniest smile he invited her to a
seat at the counter. Her commands were eagerly solicited
and promptly executed. The two small volumes she asked
for were speedily produced, neatly packed up, and delivered
48S THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
to the footman in drab, to be deposited in the dark-brown
chariot. But the lady still lingered. Thrice within a fort-
night she had occupied the same seat, on each occasion
making a longer visit than the last, and becoming more and
more friendly and familiar. Perhaps, being past the prime
of life, she was flattered by the extremely deferential at-
tentions of the young tradesman ; perhaps she was pleased
with the knowledge he possessed, or seemed to possess, of a
particular subject, and was gratified by the interest which he
took, or appeared to take, in her favourite science. How-
ever, she still lingered, smiling very pleasantly, and chatting
very agreeably in her low, sweet voice, while she turned over
the pretty illustrated volumes that were successively ofiered
to her notice.
In the meantime the delighted Booby did his utmost in
the conversational way to maintain his ground, which was nc
easy task, seeing that he was not well read in her favourite
science, nor indeed in any other. In fact, he did not read at
all ; and although a butcher gets beefish, a bookseller does
not become bookish, from the mere smell of his commodity.
Nevertheless, he managed to get on, in his own mind, very
tolerably, adding a few words about Egypt and the Pyi-amids
to the lady's mention of the Sphinx, and at the name of
Memnon, edging in a sentence or two about the British
Museum. Sometimes, indeed, she alluded to classical proper
names altogether beyond his acquaintance ; but in such cases
he escaped by flying ofi" at a tangent to the new ballet, or the
last new novel, of which he had derived an opinion from the
advertisements — nay, even digressing at need, like Sir Peter
Laurie, on the Omnibus Nuisance and the Wooden Pave-
ments. To tell the truth, the lady, as sometimes happens,
was so intent on her own share of the discourse, that she
paid little attention to his topics or their treatment ; and so
THE CAMBER^VELL BEAUTY. 489
far from noticing any incongruity, would have allowed him to
talk unheeded of the dulness of the publishing trade, and the
tightness of money in the City. Thanks to this circumstance,
tie lost nothing in her opinion, whilst his silent homage and
Eissiduities recommended him so much to her good graces, that
at parting he received an especial token of her favour.
" Mr. Booby," said the lady, and she drew an embossed
card from an elegant silver case, and presented it to the
young publisher, "you must come and see me."
Mr. Booby was of course highly delighted and deeply
honoured ; not merely verbally, but actually and physically ;
for, as he took the embossed card, his blood thrilled with
delight to the very tips of his fingers. Not that he was in
love with the donor ; though still handsome, she was past the
middle-age, and, indeed, old enough, accot-ding to the popular
phrase, to have been his mother. But then she was so lady-
like and well-bred, and had such a carriage — the dark brown
one — and so affable — with a footman and a gold-headed cane
— quite a first-rate connexion — with a silver crest on the
harness — and oh ! such a capital pair of well-matched greys !
These considerations were all Very gratifying to his ambition ;
but, above all, his vanity was flattered by a condescension
which confirmed him in an opinion he had long indulged in
secret — namely, that in personal appearance, manners, and
fashion he was a compound of the Apollo Belvidere and
Lord Chesterfield, with a touch of Count D'Orsay. But the
lady speaks.
" Any morning, Mr. Booby, except Wednesday and Friday.
I shall be at home all the rest of the week, and shall leave
orders for your admittance."
Mr. Booby bowed, as- far as he could, after the fashion of
George IV. — escorted the lady into the street as nearly as
possible in the style of the Master of the Ceremonies at
490 THE CAMBERVVELL BEAUTY.
Brighton, and then handed her into her carriage with the
air, as well as he could imitate it, of a French Marquis of the
ancien regirne.
" I shall expect you, Mr. Booby," said the lady, through
the carriage-window. "And as an inducement" — here she
smiled mysteriously, and nodded significantly — "you shall
have a peep at my Camberwell Beauty."
CHAPTER n.
"And did he go?"
Why, as to his figure, it had been three times cut out, at
full length, in black paper — once on the Chain Pier at Brighton
— once in Regent-street, and once —
"But did he go?"
Then, for his face, he had twice had it done in oil, thrice
in crayons, and once in pencil by Wageman. Moreover, he
had had it miniatured by Lover — and he had been in treaty
with Behnes for his bust, but the marbling came so ex-
pensive —
"But did he go, I say?"
So expensive that he gave up the design, and contented
himself with a mask in plaster of Paris.
"But did he go?"
Yes — to both. To Collen for a half-length, and to Beard
for a whole one. I think that waa all — ^^but no — ^he went
to What's-his-name, the modeller, and had a cast taken of
his leg.
" Hang his leg ! Did he go or not? **
To be sure he was a tradesman ; but his line was a genteel
one j and his shop was double-fronted, in a first-rate thorough-
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 491
fare, and lighted with gas. Then as to liis business, with
strict assiduity and attention, and a little more punctuality
and despatch —
" Confound his business ! — Did-^he — go 1 "
To the Opera ? Yes, often. And had his clothes made
at the West End—and gave champagne — and backed a horse
or two for the Derby — and smoked cigars — and was alto-
gether, for a tradesman, very much of a gentleman.
*' But, for the last time, did he go 1 "
Where 1
" Why, to see the Beauty ! "
He did.
« What, to CamberwelU "
No ; but to the looking-glass, over the mantelshelf in his
own dining-room, and where. Narcissus like, he gazed at his
reflected image till he actually persuaded himself that he was
as unique as the Valdarfer Boccaccio, and as elegantly got up
as Lockhart's Spanish Ballads.
CHAPTER III.
The dark brown chariot was gone.
As it rattled away, and just as the drab back of the foot-
man disappeared, Mr. Booby turned his attention to the
embossed card, and deliberately read the address thrice over.
*'Mrs. E. Q. Heathcote,
Grove Terrace, Camherwell.'*
To what wild dreams, to what extravagant speculations
did it give birth ! He had evidently made a favourable
impression on the mature lady, and might not his merits do
1^'
492 THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY
him as good service with her daughter, or niece, or ward, ot
w^hatever she was, the young lovely creature to whom she
liad alluded by so charming a title. The Camberwell Beauty !
The acknowledged Venus of that large and populous parish !
The Beauty of all the Grove, and Grove Lane — of the Old
road and the New — of all the Green — of Church-row and the
Terrace, of all Champion and Denmark Hills — of all Cold
Harbour Lane ! The loveliest of the lovely, from the Red
Cap on the north to the Greyhound on the south — from the
Holland Arms in the east to the Blue Anchor in the west.
" Here, Perry, reach me the Book of Beauty."
The shopman handed the volume to his master, who began
earnestly to look through the illustrations, wondering which
of those bewitching countesses, or mistresses, or misses, the
fair incognita might resemble. But such speculations were
futile, so the book was closed and thrown aside ; and then
his thoughts reverting to his own personal pretensions, he
passed his fingers through his hair, adjusted his collar, and
drawing himself up to his full height, took a long look at his
legs. But this survey was partial and unsatisfactory, and
accordingly striding up the stairs, three at once, he appealed
to the looking-glass in the dining-room, as stated in the
preceding chapter.
The verdict of the mirror has been told, and the result
was a conviction in the mind of Mr. Booby, that sometime,
and somewhere, the Beauty must have been smitten with
his elegant appearance — perhaps in an open carriage at
Epsom — perhaps in the street — -but most probably as he
was standing up, the observed of all observers, in the pit of
Her Majesty's Theatre. -
For the rest of the day Mr. Booby retired from business ;
indeed, he was in a state of exaltation that unfitted him for
mercantile affairs, or any of the commonplace operations of
THE CAMBEliWELL BEAUTY. 493
life. The cloth was laid, and the dinner was served up, but
he could not eat ; and as usual in such cases, he laid the
blame on the cook and the butcher. The soles were smoked,
the melted butter was oiled, the potatoes were over-boiled,
the steak was fresh killed, the tart was execrable, and the
cheese had been kept too dry. In short he relished nothinoj
except the bimaper of sherry, which he filled and drank off,
dedicating it mentally to the Camberwell Beauty.
The second glass was poured out and quaffed to his own
honour, and the thu'd was allotted to an extempore senti-
ment, which rolled the two former toasts into one. These
ceremonies performed, he again consulted the mirror over
the mantelshelf, carefully pocket-combing his hair, and
plucking up his collar as before. But these were mere
commonplace manoeuvres compared with those in which he
afterwards indulged.
Now, of all absurd animals, a man in love is the most
ridiculous, and of course doubly so if he should be in love
with two at once, himself and a lady. This being precisely
the case with Mr. Booby, he gave a loose to his two-fold
passion, and committed follies enough for a brace of love-
lunatics. It would have cured a quinsy to have seen and
heard how he struttedj and chuckled, and smiled, and talked
to himself — how he practised bowing, and sliding, and
kneeling, and sighing — how he threw himself into attitudes
and ecstasies, and then how he twisted and wriggled to look
at his calves, and as far as he could all round his waist, and
up his back ! Never, never was there a man in such a
fever of vanity and love delirium, since the cr»nceited
Steward, who walked in yellow-stockings and cross-srartered.
and dreamt that he was a fitting mate for tne Beauty ol
lllyria !
494 THE CAilBERWELL BEAUTY.
CHAPTER IV.
All lovers are dreamers —
" In real earnest ! "
Perfectly, miss. They are notorious visionaries, whether
asleep or awake.
" Why, then, of all things, let us have the dream of Mr.
Bobby about the Camberwell Beauty. It must have been
such a very curious one, considering that he had never seen
the lady!"
It was, and, remembering his business, rather charac-
teristic to boot. I have hinted before, how vainly he had
tried, during the day, to paint an ideal portrait of the Fair
Unknown, and no sooner were his eyes closed at night, than
a similar series of vague figures and faces began to tantalise
him in his sleep. Dim feminine shapes, of every style of
beauty, flitted before him, and vanished like daguerreotype
images which there was not light enough to fix. Before h3
could examine, or choose, and say, " this must be the Idol,"
the transitory phantom was gone, or transfigured. The
blonde ripened into a brunette, the brunette bleached into
a blonde before he could decide on either complexion.
Flaxen tresses darkened into jet — raven locks brightened
into golden ringlets, and yellow curls into auburn, before he
could prefer one colour to another. Black eyes changed at
a wink into grey ; blue in a twinkling to hazel, but no, they
were green ! The commanding figure dwindled into a sylph,
the fairy swelled into the fine woman, the majestic Juno
melted into a Venus, the rosy Hebe became a pale Minerva
— who in turn looked for a moment like the lady in the
, frontispiece to the " Book of Beauty ; " and then, one after
another, like all the Beauties at Hampton Court I
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 495
Alas ! amid such a bewildering galaxy, how could he fix
ou the Beauty of Camberwell !
One angelic figure, which retained its shape and features
somewhat longer than the rest, informed him, by the myste-
rious correspondence of dreams, that she was the Beauty of
Buttermere. Another lovely phantom, who presented her-
self rather vividly, by signs understood only in visions, let
him know that she was the Beauty who had espoused the
gentle Beast. And, finally, a whole bevy of Nymphs and
Graces suddenly appeared at once, but as suddenly changed —
" Into what — pray what 1 "
Why, into a row of books, and which signified to him by
their lettered backs that they were "Beauties of England
and Wales!"
CHAPTER V.
Thursday morning ! —
It was the first day on which Mrs. R G. Heathcote, of
Grove Terrace, Camberwell, was to be " at home ; " and the
eager Mr. Booby had resolved to avail himself of the very
earliest opportunity for a visit. A determination not formed
so much on his own account, as for the sake of the enamoured
love-sick creature, whom his vanity painted as sitting on
pins, needles, thorns, tenter-hooks, and all the other picked-
pointed articles which are properly supposed to stuff the
seats, cushions, pillows, and bolsters of the chairs, bedst
sofas, and settees of anxious and impatient people.
Accordingly, no sooner was breakfast over, than, snatching
up his hat, he set out —
" Ah, to Gracious Street for the homnibuf ' "
No, ma'am — to the Poultry for a pair of exquisitely-made
4P^ THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
French gloves, that fitted better than his skin, and were of
the most deUcate lemon-colour that you ever, or never, saw.
Thence he went to Cheapside, where he treated himself to a
superfine thirty-shilling beaver, of a fashionable shape, that
admirably suited the character of his physiognomy; after
which he bought, I forget where, a bottle of genuine Eau de
Cologne — the sort that is manufactured by Jean Marie
Farina, and by nobody else — and finally, looking in at a
certain noted shop near the Mansion-house, he purchased
a bouquet of the choicest and rarest flowers of the season.
" Well, and then he went to the bus."
No — he returned home to dress — namely, in his best blue
coat with brass buttons, a fancy waistcoat, black trousers,
and patent leather boots. His shirt was frilled — with an
ample allowance of white cuiF — and his silken cravat was of
a pale sky-blue. Of course he did not fail to consult the
looking-glass in the dining-room, which assured him that his
costume was complete. The shopmen, however, to whom he
afterwards submitted the question, were more inclined to
demur. The clerk thought that a union pin would have
been an improvement to the cravat, and the porter would
have preferred a few mosaic studs in the shirt-front. In
answer to which, the master, who had consulted them,
declared that they knew nothing about the matter.
In the meantime the hour struck which he had appointed
in his own mind for the start, so hastily striding up Cornhill
and turning into Gracechurch-street, he luckily obtained the
last vacant place in an omnibus which was already on the
move. As usual, the number of the passengers was con-
siderably reduced ere the vehicle reached the Red Cap, at
the Green — in fact, there remained but three gentlemen
besides Mr. Booby, who, after some preliminary conversation,
contrived to turn the discourse on the subject that lay
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 497
nearest his heart. But he took nothing by his motion A
little cross-looking oid fellow, in tne corner-seaf-, lookcl
knowing but said nothing: the other two passengers de-
clared that they had never heard of the Camberwell Beauty.
" I am going to see her, however," said Mr. Booby.
"Are you, sir?" retorted the little crabbed -looking old
gentleman in the comer-seat. " Well, I hope you may set
her!"
" I hope, in fact, I have reason to believe, that I shall, '
replied the self-confident Mr. Booby, and twitchmg the
macintosh of the conductor, he desired to be set down at
the bottom of the Grove.
"It is rather strange," he thought, as he walked slowiv
up the hill, " that they have not heard of her. The little old
chap in the comer, though, seemed to know her, and to be
rather jealous of me. But, no — it's impossible that he can be
a rival ; " and as he said this, there occurred a corresponding
alteration in his gait — " perhaps he's her father or her uncle."
CHAPTER VL
Bravc, Vanity !
Of all friends in need, seconds, backers, confidants, helpers,
and comforters, there is none like Self-Conceit ! Of all the
Life Assurances in England, from the Mutual to the Equit-
able, there is none like Self- Assurance ! It defies the cold
water of timidity and the wet blankets of diffidence — and
against the aguish, chilly, and hot fits of modesty it is as
sovereign as Quinine !
How many men, for instance, on a similar errand to that
of the young bookseller, would have felt nerve-quakes and
498 THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
tretnor cordis^ and have scarcely mustered courage enough to
pull the bell at the gate ! How many would have remained
m the front garden shilly-shallying like Master Slender, till
the Camberwell Beauty herself came forth, as sweet Anne
Page did, to entreat her bashful wooer to enter the premises !
Not so with Mr. Booby; as soon as he had ascertained
the right house, he walked resolutely up to the door, and
played on the knocker something very analogous to a
flourish of trumpets. The well-known footman in the drab
livery appeared to the summons and admitted the visitor,
who contrived during his progress through the hall to
smooth his coat-tails, pluck up his collar, pull down his
white cuffs, and pass his pocket-comb through his hair. He
was going, moreover, to hang up his hat ; but luckily
remembered the present mode, and that the beaver was
bran new, wherefore he carried it with him into the drawing-
room — a very indifferent fashion, be it said, and particularly
in the case of an invitation to dinner, for what can be more
ridiculous than to see a guest sitting hat in hand, as if he
had dropped in unasked, and was far from certain o^ a
welcome.
" And did he see the Beauty 1 "
No, madam. Mrs. Heathcote was alone : but obviously
prepared for the visit. A niunber of handsomely bound
books almost covered the round table, some of them open,
and exhibiting coloured plates illustrative of Conchology,
Geology, and Botany ; others were devoted to Ornithology
and Entomology — hinting, by the way, that the lady was
rather multifarious in her studies.
In manner she was as condescending, affable, and agree-
able afi ever, and as chatty as usual. In her low sweet voice.
Nevertheless, her visitor did not feel quite so much at his
case as he had anticipated. After the first compliments
TEE cambekwi:ll beauty.
499
600 THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
and commonplace remarks on the weather, the lady's
conversation became perplexingly scientific, her allusions
distressingly obscure, while technical terms, and classical
proper names, fell in quick succession from her lips. Some
of the names seemed familiar to the ear of the listener, but
before he could determine whether he had heard them at
school, or in his business, or at the opera, he was obliged to
"give them up," and direct his guesses to a fresh set of
riddles. Every moment he was getting more mystified ; —
he knew no more than a dog whether she was talking
mythology, or metaphysics, or natural history, or algebra, or
alchemy, or astrology, or all six of them at once.
This ignorance was sufficiently irksome ; but it soon
became alarming, for she began to make more direct appeals
to him, and occasionally seemed surprised and dissatisfiea
with his answers. His old shifts, besides, were no longer of
any avail — she turned a deaf ear to his quotations from the
Times and Herald — the theatrical movements, the odds at
Tattersall's, and the progress of the New Royal Exchange.
Above all, he trembled: to find that the extraordinary piental
efforts he was compelled to make in order to keep pace with
her, were fast driving out of his head all the pretty speeches
which he had prepared for a more interesting conference.
In a word, he was thoroughly flabbergasted — as completely
topsyturvied in his ideas as the fly that walks on the ceiling
with its head downwards. What course to take he knew no
more than that vainly enlightened man, the man in the
moon. He fidgeted in his seat, coughed, sighed, blew his
nose, sniff'ed at the bouquet, looked "all round his hat,"
then into it, and then on the crown of it, but without
making any discovery. The lady meanwhile talking on, in a
full stream, for all he knew, I'ke Coleridge on the Samo-
Thracian Mysteries 1
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 601
" Well, well, never mind her nonsense."
Poor Booby! His conceit was fast being taken out of
him. His vanity was oozing out at every pore of his body —
his assurance seemed peehng off his face, Hke the skin after a
fever. He was dying to see the Beauty — but alas ! there
was that eternal tongue, inexhaiistible as an Artesian spring,
still pouring, pouring, — by the way, ma'am, did you ever
read the " Arabian Nights 1 "
"Of course, sir."
Well, then, you will remember the story of the tailor who,
burning, broihng, and frying to see his beauty of Bagdad by
appointment, was detained, half-shaved, hour after hour,
by Es-S^mit, the garrulous barber. Now, call the tailor Mr.
Booby, and put the babbling tonsor into petticoats, and you
will have an exact notion of the case — how the lady
gossipped, and how the perplexed lover fretted and fumed,
till, like the oriental, he felt "as if his gall-bladder had
burst," and was ready to cry out with him, " For the sake of
heaven be silent, for thou hast crumbled my Uver ! "
" Dear me, how shocking ! "
Very ! In spite of the rudeness of the act he could not
refrain from looking at his watch — an hour had passed, and
yet there had been no more mention of the Beauty than if
she had been doomed, like the Sleeping one, to lie dormant
for a hundred years. The most distressing doubts and
misgivings began to creep over him. For example, that the
talkative lady was not precisely of sound mind — she was
certainly rather flighty and rambling in her discourse — and
consequently that the lovely being she had promised to
introduce to him might be altogether a fiction ! His spirits
sank at the idea, like the quicksilver before a hurricane, and
he heartily wished himself back in his own shop, or his
warehouse — anywhere but alone in the same room with a
32
502 THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
crazy woman, who talked Encyclopaedias, till lie was as
heavy at heart, as confused in his head, and as uneasy all
over as if he had just feasted with a geologist on pudding-
stone and conglomerate.
Never had he been so mystified and confounded in all his
life ! Accustomed to revolve in the circle of his own
perfections, his thoughts were utterly at fault when called to
the consideration of circumstances and combinations at all,
complex or extraordinary ; whilst his superficial knowledge,
limited to the covers of books, failed to furnish him with
any hint towards the unravelment of a mystery quite equal,
in his estimation, to the intricacies of a romance. What
would he not have given for a few minutes' private consulta-
tion with his Co, with his Clerk, or even with his Porter !
A dozen times he was on the point of rising, determined
to plead a sudden headache, a bleeding at the nose, or a
forgotten engagement ; and certainly ere long he would have
said or done something desperate if the eccentric lady had
not, of her own accord, put a period to his suspense by saying
abruptly,
" But we have gossipped enough, Mr. Booby, and I must
now introduce you to my Camberwell Beauty."
The crisis was come ! The important interview was at
hand ! Mr. Booby sprang to his feet, twitched his collar,
plucked his cuffs, set up his hair, clapped his bran new hat
under his left arm, and smelling and smiHng at his bouquet,
walked jauntily on his tiptoes, at the invitation of the lady,
into a sort of boudoir.
THE CAMBEKWELL BEAUTY.
503
504 THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY,
CHAPTER VIL
" And was the Beauty in the Httle room V*
Yes, — there was also a couch in it, and a most luxurious
library chair. One side of the wall was covered with cases
of stuffed birds of the smaller species, the opposite side was
occupied by cases of shells, and specimens of minerals, and
metallic ores, and the third side was taken up with cases of
beetles, moths, and butterflies.
"But the Beauty?"
On the sofa-table lay a Hortus Siccus for botanical
specimens, and a Scrap-book, — ^both open.
" But the Beauty ? "
In one comer of the room, on a kind of a pedestal, was a
bust of Cuvier ; in the opposite comer, on a similar stand, a
head of Werner ; in the third nook was that of Rossini ; and ,
in the fourth stood a handsome perch for a parrot, but the
bird was dead or absent. Over the door —
« No, no— the Beauty ? "
Over the door was a half-length of the lady herself, in a
fancy dress ; and from the centre of the ceiling hung a small
Chinese lantern.
"The Beauty?"
In the recess of the solitary window, on a stand, stood a
compound birdcage, a la Bechstein, enclosing a globe of gold
fish, and surmounted by a basket of flowers. The floor, —
which was Turkey carpeted —
"The Beauty? the Beauty?**
Thfi floor was littered with various articles, including a
guitar, — a large porcelain jar, — and a little wicker-work
kennel for a lapdog, — but the dog like the parrot was
deficient
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 505
'* The Beauty f the Beauty ? the Beauty 1 "
" My dear madam, pray have a httle patience, and read
" Blue Beard ; " how nearly his last wife was destroyed by
her curiosity. My mystery is not yet ripe, and you have
even less right to the key of my Eomance than Fatima had
to the key of the Bloody Chamber.
CHAPTER Vm.
EvBBY person of common observation must have re-
marked the vast contrast between the carriage of a man
going up, and the bearing of the same man going doton in
the world !
In the first case how he trips, how he brightens, how he
jokes, how he laughs, how he dances, how he sings, how he
whistles, how he admires, how he loves ; • in the second pre-
dicament — how he stumps, how he glumps, how he sneers,
how he satirizes, how he grumbles, how he frowns, how he
vilifies, how he hates — in short, how he behaves with a
difierence, like Mr. Booby.
As he ascended Grove-hill his step was brisk and elastic,
he simpered complacently, held his bouquet mincingly in his
lemon-coloured glove, and had his new hat stuck jauntily a
Httle on one side of his head.
As he descended the steep, his tread was heavy, sometimes
amounting to a stamp, the flowers had been thrashed into a
bundle of stalks, the delicate kid glove was being gnawed into
a mitten, and the bran new beaver was sullenly thrust down
over his eyebrows.
As he mounted, his eyes were cast upward towards the
elm-tree tops, as if looking for birds' nests.
606 THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY.
As he descended, his eyes were turned to the gravel-path,
as if in search of Brazilian pebbles.
As he went up, he hummed " La ^i darem."
As he went down, he muttered curses between his teeth.
In going up, he had carefully picked his way, avoiding
every dirty spot.
In going down, he tramped recklessly through the mud,
and stepped into the very middle of the puddles.
"And had the Beauty slighted him ?"
Why, those persons who saw him come out of the house-
door, remarked as he stumbled down the steps, that his face
was as red and hot as a fiery furnace : others, who did not
notice him till he had cleared the front garden-gate, observed
that his complexion was as pale as ashes. And both reports
were true, for like the Factions of the Bed and White Boses,
did Anger and Vexation alternately domineer and hoist their
colours by turns in his countenance.
" But had the Beauty really behaved ill to him 1"
Why, in going to the house he had conducted himself to-
wards men, women, and children, with a studied and almost
affected courtesy ; whereas in going from the premises he
jostled the gentlemen, took the wall of ladies, punched each
little boy who came wathin reach of his arm, and kicked every
dog that ran within range of his foot.
" Then she had been scornful to him ! "
Every body in the street looked after him. Some thought
that he was mad ; some, that he was in Hquor — others, that
he was walking for a wager, and, from his ill temper, that he
was losing it.
" Poor man ! "
However, on he went, striding, frowning, mutterinff, and
swearing, gnawing one kid glove, and shaking the other Me
a muffin-beU, On he went — like an overdriven beast — on
THE CAMBERWELL BEAUTY. 507
through Church-street, and away across the Green, kicking
hoops, tops, and marbles ; thumping little boys, and poking
little girls, snubbing nursemaids, making faces at their babies,
and grinning viciously at everything in nature that came
within his scope. He was out of humour with heaven and
earth. It pleased him to know, by a sudden yell in the road,
that a cur was run over ; and he was rather glad than other-
wise to see a horse in the pound.
"Poor fellow ! how cruelly he must have been treated !"
Well, on he went to the Red Cap, where an omnibus was
just on the point of starting.
It was invitingly empty, so without asking whether it went
to the East or West End, in jumped Mr. Booby, and threw
himself on the centre seat at the further end of the vehicle.
And now, for the first time, he had leisure to feel that he
had been worked and walked, morally as weU as physically,
into a violent heat. He let down all the windows that
would go down, tugged out his handkerchief, wiped the dew
from his face, and then fanned himself with his hat. The
process somewhat cooled the outer man, but his temper re-
mained as warm as ever, and at last found vent.
" Confound the old fool ! " he exclaimed, with an angry
stamp on the floor of the omnibus — " Confound the old fool
with her Camberwell Beauty ! Why didn't she teU me it was
a Butterfly!"*
* Vanessa Antiopa — deriving its English name from having been first
observed at the suburban village in Surrey. The famous clown, Grimaldi,
who was a butterfly-fancier, described the Camberwell Beauty as "very
508
THE LITTLE BKOWNS.
'BEX DOWN OHM, AND CAKKY ONE.
THE LITTLE BROWNS.
Taking into account the peculiar circumstances of the coun-
try, and the particular juncture, coincident with the deprecia-
tion of our gold money, there is something strange and puzzling
about the proposed issue of a new coinage of Half-Farthings.
In a cheap country one can understand the utility and conveni-
ence of such small moneys : for example, in Prance or Belgium
with their centimes — or in Germany with its pfennings, ten of
which are equivalent to one of our pence. Por in any of these
lands it is still possible to proeure some article or other in ex-
change for a coin of the lowest denomination : but in England
THE LITTLE BROWNS. 60»
dear England, what is there that one can purchase for such a
mite as one of the new fractions ? Nothing. The traditionary
farthing rushlight has risen to four times the price, and the old
ha'penny roll has rolled into a penny one. And half a farthing ?
The only commodity I know of to be obtained for such a trifle
is — ^kicks !
" I'd kick him for half a farthing. *
It is barely possible, however, that at the street stalls, or in
hawkers' baskets, there may be something in the lozenge or lol-
lipop line to be bought for one of these new doits. But the
issue of a new coinage, of a novel value, expressly for the con-
venience of little children with limited incomes, is a thing not
to be supposed.
It is not likely, either, that the penny has thus been split into
eighths, because the oranges have been eight for sixpence;
neither is it probable that our copper currency has been chopped
so small only to make it more like mint sauce.
Is it possible that, alarmed by the depreciation of our sove-
reigns, our rulers have thought of producing a coin not valuable
enough for plugging — and two little and Light for sweating —
even in the present warm weather ?
Is it plausible that to meet the haggling which hard times
will produce, these copper minims have been invented so that
two merchants or brokers who have boggled about a farthing,
may split the difference and effect a bargain ? Such a supposi-
tion were too derogatory to our modem Greshams.
A certain Journal, indeed, has hinted that the measure will
benefit the poor, by their receiving fractions which hitherto have
never been given to the petty pui'chaser ; but surely this argu-
ment is untenable, for will not the same coinage enable the seller
to impose a fraction hitherto impracticable on his article — for
example, a penny and one eighth on his bun or roll ?
The new denomination can hardly be intended — against an
510
THE LITTLE BEOWNS.
universal Income Tax — to enable a man with fourpence-fartliing
a year to pay three per cent, on his annuity. The Victoria D.G.
on the new coin would never lend her royal countenance to any
such speculation.
A EECBIPT Ilf FULL.
Is it possible, in consideration of the deamess of bread, that
the Liliputian currency has been invented for the purchase of
such tiny little loaves as Gulliver used to devour by the dozen P
Alas ! the people who make money are not so considerate for
those who don't !
With none of these views is it likely that the Demi Farthings
have been minted — nor yet to encourage low play, by furnishing
almost nominal stakes for short whist and games of chance.
To what purpose, then, have the dwarf coppers been intro-
duced ? There still remains one use for them, and really it ap-
THE LITTLE BROWNS.
511
pears on plausible grounds to have been the very use intended
by the authors of the measure — namely, to be given away.
The universal distress of the working classes — the rapid in-
crease of pauperism, and the broad hint which has been thrown
out, that the wants of the starving population must be provided
for by voluntary contribution, tend strongly to favour this hypo-
DOCBLB ENIKr.
thesis. The man and woman with a spare penny— the lady
and gentleman with a spare shilling, will be enabled, by this
very small change, to enlarge the sphere of their benevolence ;
and the noble philanthropist, whose generosity amounts to a
guinea, may have a thousand beggars beset his gate, and " none
go unrelieved away ! " Yes — thanks to our mint-masters, we
shall be indulged with cheap charity, if nothing else !
But besides the mendicants, the minute coin will be service-
able to give to children, — to crossing sweepers, watermen,
Jacks-in-the- water, and other humble officials, who look to ladies
and gentlemen for fees. Whether the Half-Parthings will do to
tip servants, guards, chamber-maids, stage coachmen, waiters,
or box-keepers, is more problematical : how it might answer to
612
THE LITTLE BROWNS.
slip such a gratuity into the itching palm of a powdered portly
Footman, or Hall Porter, in crimson and gold, or sky blue and
silTer— one of those pampered menials who lounge about the
doors of Portland Place, and vainly ask each other the meaning
of "Destitution in the Metropolis'* — how it might do, to
present such a tipping to such a topping personage, to offer such
tribute money to such a Caesar, is very, very questionable ; but
in these hard times, when every retrenchment is desirable, the
experiment at least ought to be made — nay, should even a young
lady call with her subscription-book to beg for something for the
little Blacks, it might not be amiss to introduce her to the little
Browns.
THE OMNIBUS.
613
THE OMKI-BUbS.
THE OMNIBUS.
A SKETCH ON THE ROAD.
It was a fine evening in Autumn, but late enough to be dusk,
as my friend F. was driving me, in a gig, along a road near
Chigwell, in Essex, when suddenly we were startled by loud and
repeated screams, as from numerous female voices.
F. immediately pulled up : — whilst the alarming chorus was
repeated from throats in better time than unison — followed by
entreaties for help.
514 THE OMNIBUS.
The sounds came from above : and looking up towards the
top of the bank on the right hand side of the road which was
cut through a hill, we perceived an omnibus, with two females
perched on the roof, and another on tlie box, who held the whip
and the reins. At every window, moreover, appeared one or
two caps or bonnets, accounting for the full chorus we had just
heard.
Leaving our own vehicle in the road, we hastened to the res-
cue ; and having first helped the ladies to alight, proceeded to
get the omnibus into the road — a task of considerable difficulty.
The females in the meanwhile scrambled down to the low ground,
where we found them clustered round the senior of the party,
who, seated on the stump of a tree, was giving way to sundry
gesticulations and exclamations, which being echoed and imitated
by a fugle-woman on either side, were copied and repeated again
by some eighteen young ladies of various ages and very different
sizes. In reality, the Principal, teachers, and pupils of Pros-
pect-House Establishment, at Woodford.
" ! I never ! " exclaimed the Governess : and eighteen
juvenile voices, and two middle-aged ones instantly reiterated,
" 0, I never ! "
" It's a Providence we were not killed ! " cried the Governess ;
and as if they had been at their responses in church, the twenty
voices simultaneously repeated, "Providence we were not
killed ! "
My experience in the suburban woodlands, suggested a tole-
rable guess at the truth which the narrative of Mrs. Vandeleur
afterwards confirmed. The ladies of Prospect-House Establish-
ment had been enjoying their annual Gipsying in Epping Forest
— a festival from which prudence and principle rigorously ex-
cluded the other sex with the exception of one Tobias, who
during the illness of the household coachman, had been recom-
mended for the service, as a sober, steady, civil, and family man.
THE OMNIBUS.
515
Well, they had gone, she said, to the old perennial rendezvous,
a certain retired spot, secure from vulgar intrusion, and betaken
themselves to their rural recreations, some pursuing Entomology
(she meant hunting butterflies), others studying botany (by pick-
ing harebells and looking for " eagles " and " oak trees " in sliced
fern- stalks), the graphical, sketching picturesque stumps, and land-
skipping — and the young ones picking ladybirds, or playing at hide
A SPILL CASE.
and seek. For herself, she had enjoyed " Sturm's Reflections "
under an umbrageous beech, whilst Miss Tancred and Miss
Groper spread the hospitable cloth on Flora's lap, and disposed
on it the viands and beverages congenial to a Juvenile Pete
Champetre, namely cold pigeon pie, ham and beef sandwiches,
and tea-cakes, with flasks of home-made j^ooseberry, currant, and
510 THE OMNIBUS.
cowslip wine, and a few bottles of porter and ale for the more
mature of the sylvan revellers. These good things, with grace
before and after, having been duly discussed, not forgetting the
allotment of a portion for Tobias — the votaries of Flora, Sec,
again betook themselves to their rural felicity till recalled by the
sound of a large handbell, when the little flock having been
counted over, they proceeded to the rendezvous, — a Majestic
Monarch of the Forest, alias oak — and punctual to appointment
there stood the green Omnibus, the Paragon, with its horses
readv harnessed — ^but where was Tobias?
A. ROCKINO HORSE.
In vain twenty shrill voices made the woods ring with
" Tobias ! — bias ! — ias ! " — no Tobias answered. In speechless
alarm, the anxious females clustered again around the Gover-
ness, gazing in each others' faces with blank looks, when sud-
denly they were starled by a strange sound from the interior of
the vehicle. — Yes, there certainly was somebody snoring in the
omnibus, but nobody cared to verify the fact, by inspection, for
suppose it should not be Tobias ? At last the more courageous
Miss Groper ventured to open the door and look in, and, alas !
for human frailty ! Tobias it was indeed, helplessly, hopelessly
drunk !
THE OMNIBUS. 517
Poor Tobias ! Too corpulent to skip after butterflies or climb
for birds' nests, too ignorant to read *' Sturm's Reflections," or
in truth any thing else, and unable to play hide and seek with
himself, he had found the time pass away very tediously,
" Under the shade of melancholy boughs."
He had teoked on the sole of each boot, more than once, and
into the crown of his hat still oftener, and had blown his nose,
and counted the fourpence halfpenny in his pocket over and
over, but he could not always be blowing his nose without a
cold, or counting fourpence halfpenny. How then was he to
Jm INQOXXE,
occupy or amuse himself but by eating and drinking ? — the last,
indeed, being encouraged by the heat of the weather, and the dis-
covery of certain bottles of ale and stout and home-made wines
amongst the remnants of the feast. So tapping a bottle of ale,
he quaffed it off, not without drinking the health of the
Governess and the laaies in general, succeeded by more particu-
lar toasts, as the ** young 'oman in the welwet cape," " she in
the blue bonnet," and the like. Then he drank the porter, and
thee he mstmctively put to the horses, for the fatigue of which
t5o
518
THE OMNIBUS.
he refreshed himself with another bottle of ale, and then tasted
the wines, and tlien feeling drowsy, crept into the further corner
of the 'bus for a nap, till the arrival of the company. But the
malt liquor had been more potent, and his slumbers were deeper
than he had reckoned on. The maidens might as well have at-
tempted to rouse Eip Van Winkle.
What was to be done ? There was not a house within reach,
or a creature within hail. The gloom of evening was fast deep-
ening, and the prospect of being benighted in the Forest, asso-
ciated, by some at least, with wild beasts and banditti, recon-
ciled the females, old
and young, to the only
alternative. The Go-
verness and the major-
ity of the ladies got in-
to the omnibus, allow-
ing the horrid creature
as wide a berth as they
could — the two teachers
ascended outside to the
roof — and the box was
assigned to Miss Wrig-
glesworth, who on the
strength of having once
driven a donkey shay,
assumed the whip and
the ribbons, and set
the horses in motion by one cut at the reins and another at the
traces. Luckily the horses were steady and sensible animals,
and being allowed their own way at first, kept the coach out of
difficulties, till the charioteer attempting some manoeuvres of her
own, contrived to perch the omnibus on an eminence dangerous
even for a Paragon.
I DO BESBBCH TOU, PLAT tJPOM THI3 PIPE.
THE TURTLES. 519
The rest may be briefly told. Tobias was dragged from the
vehicle by the legs, and after a hearty shaking, was secured by
the side of F. in the gig. The omnibus, I volunteered to pilot
to Prospect House, where I safely deposited its precious freight
— the Governess literally overwhelming me with her acknow-
ledgments — and the young ladies declaring one and all, with
every appearance of sincerity, that "they would never, never,
never go any where again without GentlemenJ"
THE TURTLES.
A FABLE.
♦
** The rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle." — Bykoit.
One day, it was before a civic dinner,
Two London Aldermen, no matter which,
Cordwainer, Girdler, Patten-maker, Skimmer—
But both were florid, corpulent, and rich.
And both right fond of festive demolition,
Set forth upon a secret expedition.
Yet not, as might be fancied from the token,
To Pudding Lane, Pie Corner, or the Street
Of Bread, or Grub, or anything to eat,
Or drink, as Milk, or Vintry, or Portsoken,
But eastward to that more aquatic quarter.
Where folks take water.
Or bound on voyages, secure a berth
For Antwerp or Ostend, Dundee or Perth^
Calais, Boulogne, or 4ny Port on earth 1
520 THE TURTLES.
Jostled and jostling, through the mud,
Peculiar to the Town of Lud,
Down narrow streets and crooked lanes they dived,
Past many a gusty avenue, through which
Came yellow fog, and smell of pitch,
From barge, and boat, and dusky wharf derived ;
With darker fumes, brought eddying by the draught,
From loco-smoko-motive craft ;
Mingling with scents of butter, cheese, and gammons.
Tea, coffee, sugar, pickles, rosin, wax.
Hides, tallow, Eussia-matting, hemp and flax.
Salt-cod, red herrings, sprats, and kipper'd salmons,
Nuts, oranges, and lemons.
Each pungent spice, and aromatic gum,
Gas, pepper, soaplees, brandy, gin, and rum ;
Alamode-beef and greens — the London soil — •
Glue, coal, tobacco, turpentine, and oil,
Bark, assafcetida,. squills, vitriol, hops,
In short, all whiffs, and sniffs, and puffs, and snuffs,
From metals, minerals, and dyewood stuffs.
Fruits, victual, drink, solidities, or slops —
In flasks, casks, bales, trucks, waggons, taverns, shops,
Boats, lighters, cellars, wharfs, and warehouse-tops,
That, as we walk upon the river's ridge,
Assault the nose — ^below the bridge.
A walk, however, as tradition tells,
That once a poor blind Tobit used to choose,
■ Because, incapable of other views.
He met with " such a sight of smells."
But on, and on, and on.
In spite of all unsavoury shocks,
THE TURTLES. 521
Progress the stout Sir Peter and Sir John,
Steadily steering ship-like for the docks —
And now they reach a place the Muse, unwilling,
Recalls for female slang and vulgar doing,
The famous Gate of Billing
That does not lead to cooing —
And now they pass that House that is so ugly
A Customer to people looking " smuggley " —
And now along that fatal Hill they pass
Where centuries ago an Oxford bled,
And proved — too late to save his life, alas ! —
That he was " oflF his head."
At last before a lofty brick-built pile
Sir Peter stopp'd, and with mysterious smile
Tingled a bell that served to bring
The wire-drawn genius of the ring,
A species of commercial Samuel Weller —
To whom Sir Peter — tipping him a wink,
And something else to drink —
" Show us the cellar.'*
Obsequious bow'd the man, and led the way
Down sundry flights of stairs, where windows small.
Dappled with mud, let in a dingy ray —
A dirty tax, if they were tax'd at all.
At length they came into a cellar damp,
With venerable cobwebs fringed around,
A cellar of that stamp
Which often harbours vintages renown'd.
The feudal Hock, or Burgundy the courtly.
522 THE TURTLES.
With sherry, brown or golden.
Or port, so olden.
Bereft of body 'tis no longer portly — .
But old or otherwise — to be veracious —
That cobwebb'd cellar, damp, and dim, and spacious,
Held nothing crusty — but crustaceous.
Prone, on the chilly floor,
Five splendid Turtles — such a five ?
Natives of some West Indian shore.
Were flapping all alive,
Late landed from the Jolly Planter's yawi —
A sight whereon the dignitaries fix'd
Their eager eyes, with ecstacy unmix' d,
Like fathers that behold their infants crawl.
Enjoying every httle kick and sprawl.
Nay — ^far from fatherly the thoughts they bred.
Poor loggerheads from far Ascension ferried !
The Aldermen too plainly wish'd them dflad
And Aldermanbury'd !
" There ! " cried Sir Peter, with an air
Triumphant as an ancient victor's,
And pointing to the creatures rich and rare,
« There's picters ! "
" Talk of Olympic Games ! They're not worth mention ;
The real prize for wrestling is when Jack,
In Providence or Ascension,
Can throw a lively turtle on its back 1 *
" Aye ! " cried Sir John, and with a score of nods,
Thoughtful of classical symposium.
THE TURTLES. 523
" There's food for Gods !
There's nectar ! there's ambrosium !
There's food for Roman Emperors to eat —
Oh, there had been a treat
(Those ancient names will sometimes hobble us)
For Heho-gobble-us ! "
" There were a feast for Alexander's Feast !
The real sort — none of your mock or spurious ! "
And then he mention'd Aldermen deceased.
And " Epicurius,"
And how Tertullian had enjoy'd such foison ;
And speculated on that verdigrease
That isn't poison.
" Talk of your Spring, and verdure, and all that
Give me green fat !
As for your Poets with their groves of myrtles
And billing turtles,
Give me, for poetry, them Turtles there,
A-billing in a bill of fare ! "
" Of all the things I ever swallow —
Good, well-dressed turtle beats them hollow —
It almost makes me wish, I vow.
To have two stomachs, like a cow ! "
And lo ! as with the cud, an inward thrill
Upheaved his waistcoat and disturb' d his frill,
His mouth was oozing and he work'd his jaw —
*' I almost think that I could eat one raw ! "
And thus, as " inward love breeds outward talk,
The portly pair continued to discourse ;
524 THE TURTLES.
And then — as Gray describes of life's divorce, —
With " longing lingering look " prepared to walk,-
Having thro' one delighted sense, at least,
Enjoy'd a sort of Barmecidal feast,
And with prophetic gestures, strange to see.
Forestall' d the civic Banquet yet to be,
Its callipash and callipee !
A pleasant prospect — but alack !
Scarcely each Alderman had turn'd his back,
When seizing on the moment so propitious,
And having learn' d that they were so delicious
To bite and sup.
From praises so high flown and injudicious, —
And nothing could be more pernicious !
The turtles fell to work, and ate each other up !
MORAL.
Never, from folly or urbanity.
Praise people thus profusely to their fkces,
Till quite in love with their own graces.
They're eaten up by vanity I
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 525
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
** How ! dead !
How dead ? Why, very dead indeed ! "
Killing no Murder*
CHAPTER I.
I WAS once dead.
* Eh ! how ! what ! " interrupts the Courteous Reader
naturally startled by such a posthumous announcement.
" What ! dead, dead, dead ! " inquu*es a Crimmal Jiidge,
unconsciously using the legal formula.
" What ! food for worms ? " exclaims a great Tragedian.
" What ! gone to another and a better world % " says a
sentimental spinster.
" Or to a wus," snuffles a sanctified shoemaker.
"What, to that bourne," says a Bagman, "to which no
traveller makes more than one journey 1 "
" What, — unriddled that great enigma ! " cries a meta-
physician, " of which we obtain no solution but by dis-
solution ? "
" Or, in plain English, Hie Jacet 9 " puts in an Under-
<;aker.
" What, hopped the twig 1 — kicked the bucket ? — bowled
out 1 — gone to pot 1 — mizzled 1 — ticked off 1 — struck off the
roster ! — slipped your cable 1 — lost the number of your
mess 1 " ask as many professional querists.
" Oh ! a case of suspended animation — hung and cut
down 1 "
" Or a cut throat, and sewed up ? "
" Poisoned and pumped out ? " hints a Medical Student.
526 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
" Drowned, and * unsuffocated gratis 1 ' '* quotes a reader
of "Don Juan."
" Or buried in a trance 1 " guesses a Transcendental
speculator.
" Poo, poo ! he means Sead-beat," cries a Sportsman.
" Or dead lame," prompts a Veterinarian.
" Or dead asleep," proposes a Mesmerizer.
" Or dead drunk," mutters a Tea-totaller.
" Or only metaphorically," suggests a Poet.
But begging the pardon of the Poet, the Tea-totaller, the
Mesmerizer, the Horse-Doctor, and the Student, I had no
such meaning : but that I was departed, deceased, demised,
defunct, or whatever term may denote the grand Terminus.
"What ! as dead as a house — as a herring^as a door-nail
— as dumps — as ditch-water — as mutton "
Yes — or as Cheops, or Julius Caesar, or Giles Scroggins, or
Miss Bailey. In short, as declared before, I was once dead —
a regular subject for the Necrologist — an entry for the
Registrar — an item for the Obituary as thus :
" On the 3rd instant, suddenly. Peregrine Phoenix, Esq., of
Clapham Rise."
CHAPTER n.
" To be sure," murmurs Memory, applying her right fore-
finger to her forehead, and pressing on her own organ, " to
be sure there have been many persons who, though seemingly
dead, and even interred, have afterwards returned to life.
For example : the wife of Reichmuth Adolch, the Coimcillor
of Cologne, who died of the plague, and was buried with a
diamond ring on her finger, and was revived by the violence
of the thievish sexton in wrenching ofi" the ornament. Then
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHOENIX. 527
there was Monsieitr Frangois de Civille, thrice coffined and
thrice restored ; not to forget the romantic tale of the lady
of Nicholas Chassenemi, who was rescued from the grave by
her old lover Cariscendi Also, the Honourable Mrs. God-
frey, Mistress of the Robes to Queen Anne, and sister of the
great Duke of Marlborough, who lay in a trance for a week.
Then there was Isabella Wilson, who, after eleven days of
rigid insensibility, would have been entombed but for the
interference of the Doctor, who felt some warmth about
the heart ; and Mr. Cowherd, of Cartmell, Lancashire, who
revived after being laid out ; and Isaac Rooke, who revived
after a coroner had been summoned; and Walter Wynk-
boume, executed on the gallows at Leicester in 1350 — but
jolted to life in a cart. Above all, there was Anne Green,
who, after being hung and pulled by the legs, and struck on
the chest by the butt-end of a musket, yet recovered, and
married and bore three children."
"Hout aye," chimes in a Scottish Mnemosyne. "And
there was yon Ill-hangit Maggie, as they ca'd her."
" Yaw, yaw," adds a Teutonic Remembrancer. " Also dere
vas de Yarman, Martin Grab, who corned to himself quite
lively, after he was a corpse."
And so he did. And thereby hangs a tale of the Dead-
Alive, which will serve for a fresh chapter.
CHAPTER in.
In the Free City of Frankfort-on-the-Maine, the bodies of
the dead are not kept for several days, as with us, in the
house of mourning, but are promptly removed to a public
cemetery. In order to guard, however, against premature
528 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
interment, the remains are always retained above ground till
certain signs of decomposition are apparent ; and besides this
precaution, in case of suspended animation, the fingers of the
corpse are fastened to a bell-rope, communicating with an
alarum, so that, on the slightest movement, the body rings
for the help which it requires for its resuscitation — a watcher
and a medical attendant being constantly at hand.
Now the duty of answering the Life-bell had devolved on
one Peter Klopp — no very onerous service, considering that for
thirty years since he had been the official " Death Watch,"
the metallic tongue of the alarum had never sounded a
single note. The defunct Frankforters committed to his
charge had remained, one and all, man, woman, and child, as
stiff, as still, and as silent, as so many stocks and stones.
Not that in every case the vital principle was necessarily
extinct : in some bodies out of so many thousands it
doubtless lingered, like a spark amongst the ashes — but
disinclined by the national phlegm to any active assertion of
its existence.
For a German, indeed, there is a charm in a certain
vaporous dreamy state, between life and death, between
sleeping and waking, which a Transcendental Spirit would
not wilUngly dissolve. Be that as it might, the deceased
Frankforters all lay in their turns in the Corpse-Chamber, as
passive as statues in marble. Not a limb stirred— not a
muscle twitched — not a finger contracted, and consequently
not a note sounded to startle the ear or try the nerves of
Peter Klopp.
In fine, he became a confirmed sceptic as to sucn resusci-
tations. The bell had never rung, and he felt certain that it
never would ring — unless from the vibrations of an earth-
quake. No, no — Death and the Doctors did their work too
surely for their patients to relai)se into life in any such
THE COll^FESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 529
manner. And truly, it is curious to observe that in
proportion to the multiplication of Physicians, and the
progress of Medical science, the number of Kevivals has
decreased. The Exanimate no longer rally as they used to
do some centuries since — when Aloys Schneider was restored
by the jolting of his own cofi&n, and Margaret Schoning,
leaving her death-bed, walked down to supper in her last
linen.
So reasoned Peter Klopp, who, long past the first tremors
and fancies of his noviciate, had come, by dint of custom, to
look at the bodies in his care but as so many logs or bales of
goods committed to the temporary custody of a Plutonian
warehouseman, or Lethean wharfinger. But he was doomed
to be signally undeceived.
In the month of September, just after the autumnal
Frankfort Fair, Martin Grab, a middle-aged man, of plethoric
habits, after dining heartily on soup, sour krout, veal-cutlets
with buUace sauce, carp in wine-jelly, blood sausage, wild
boar brawn, herring salad, sweet pudding, Leipsic larks, sour
cream with cinnamon, and a bowlfull of plums, by way of
dessert — suddenly dropped down insensible. As he was
pronounced to be dead by the Doctor, the body was conveyed
as usual, within twelve hours, to the public cemetery, where
being deposited in the Corpse-Chamber, the rest was left to
the care and vigilance of the Death-Watch, Peter Klopp.
Accordingly, having taken a last look at his old acquain
tance, he carefully twisted the rope of the Life-Bell rouna
the dead man's fingers, and then retiring into his own
sanctorum, lighted his pipe, and was soon in that foggy
Paradise, which a true German would not exchange for all
the odour of Araby the Blessed, and the society of the
Houris.
*' And did the fat man come to life again % "
530 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
Patience, my dear madam, patience, and you shall hear.
It was past midnight, and in the Corpse-Chamber, hung
with dismal black, the lifeless body of Martin Grab was lying
in its shroud as still as a marble statue. At his head, the
solitary funeral lamp burned without a flicker — ^there was no
breath of air to disturb the flame, or to curve the long
spider-lines that hung perpendicularly from the ceiling. The
silence was intense. You might have heard the ghost of a
whisper or the whisper of a ghost, if there had been one
present to utter it — ^but the very air seemed dead and
stagnant — not elastic enough for a sigh even from a spirit.
In the adjoining room reposed the Death-Watch, Peter
Klopp. He had thrown himself, in his clothes, on his little
bed, with his pipe still between his lips. Here, too, all was
silent and still. Not a cricket chirped — nor a mouse stirred
— nor a draught of air. The light smoke of the pipe
mounted directly upward, and mingled with its cloudlike
shadows on the ceiling. The eye would have detected the
flitting of a mote, the ear would have caught the rustling of
a straw, but all was quiet as the grave, still as its steadfast
tombs — ^when suddenly the shrill hurried peal of the alarm-
bell — the very same sound which for fifteen long years ho
had nightly listened for — the very same sound that for as
many long years he had utterly ceased to expect — abruptly
startled the slumbering senses of Peter Klopp !
In an instant he was out of bed and on his feet, but
without the power of further progress. His terror was
extreme. To be waked suddenly in a fright is sufficiently
dreadful ; but to be roused in the dead of the night by so
awful a summons — by a call, as it were, from beyond the
grave, to help the invisible spirit — perhaps a Demon's — to
reanimate a cold, clammy Corpse — what wonder that the
poor wretch stood shuddering, choking, gasping for breath,
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 531
with his hair standing upright on his head, his eyes starting
out of their orbits, his teeth chattering, his hands clutched,
his Umbs paralysed, and a cold sweat oozing out from every
pore of his body ! In the first spasm of horror his jaws had
collapsed with such force, that he had bitten through the
stem of his pipe, the bowl and stalk falling to the floor,
whilst the mouthpiece passed into his throat, and agitated
him with new convulsions. In the very crisis of this
struggle, a loud crash resounded from the Corpse-Chamber
— then came a rattling noise, as of loose boards, followed by
a stifled cry — then a strange unearthly shout, which the
Death- Watch answered with as unnatural a shriek, and
instantly fell headlong, on his face, to the stone-floor !
" Poor fellow ! Why, it was enough to kill him."
It did, madam. The noise alarmed the resident doctor
and the military patrole, who rushed into the building, and
lo ! a strange and horrid sight ! There lay on the ground
the unfortunate Death-Watch, stiflf and insensible ; whilst
the late Corpse, in its grave clothes, bent over him, eagerly
administering the stimulants, and applying the restoratives
that had been prepared against its own revival. But all
human help was in vain. Peter Klopp was no more —
whereas Martin Grab was alive, and actually stepping into
the dead man's shoes, became, and is at this day, the official
Death-Watch at Frankfort.-on-the-Maine,
632 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
CHAPTER IV.
*' And do you really mean to say, sir/' exclaims a vulgar-
looking personage, in a black rusty suit, with black-silk
gloves, black-ootton stockings, and a hat of two colours,
black and sleek at bottom, and brown and shabby at top ; a
figure, a good deal like a decayed apothecary of the old
school — " Do you really mean to say, sir, that you hactually
obiited and resurgam'd like the appoplectic German gemman
as ate such a wery hearty last meal ? "
Well, and what then 1
" Why, then, sir, it's the beer, that's alL'*
The bier?
" Yes, the double X. You see, sir, the truth is, I've laid
mj^self three quarterns of rum to a pot of ale, as how it was
not a reglar requiescat, nor a boney fide Celo quies, but only
a weekly dispatch."
A Weekly Dispatch ?
" Yes, or a Morning Post Mortum. Not a natural hexit,
you know. Not a true Bill of Mortality — but that you was
only killed by the perodical press, like lord Brougham ! "
Humph ! That such a rusty raven should pluck out the
heart of my mystery ! That such a walking shadow should
throw a light on my enigma! But the fellow's guess is
correct. I died only in p-int. The great Composer had no
hand in it : my everlasting rest was set up by a compositor
of the Morning Herald !
" On the 3rd instant, suddenly , Peregrine FhoeniXj Esq., of
Clapham Rise"
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHOENIX. 533
CHAPTER V.
What a strange sensation it caused, the reading of that
mortal paragraph ! A feeling only to be understood by those
who have been put out of the world by the Globe, had their
days ended by the Sun, been posted to eternity by the Post,
or sent on their last journey by the Evening Mail !
The newspaper that morning came late; and when the
fatal sentence met my glance, I was, hke Hamlet's father,
*' full of bread." I had already finished my morning's repast,
but by an instinctive impulse I took another eggj and began
breakfasting over again. A sort of practical assertion of the
animal functions — and I never enjoyed a meal so much in
my Hfe. What a zest it had ! Each separate morsel by its
peculiar substance, flavour, or aroma, giving the lie, backed
by the three senses of Touch, Taste, and Smell, to that
abominable announcement ! The noble Athelstane, when he
escaped in his grave-clothes from the funeral vault of St.
Edmond's Abbey, did not attack the venison-pasty and the
wine-bottle with more relish ! There was a certain pleasure
even in a crumb's going the wrong way !
" What ! " exclaims Civic Apoplexy, his face as crimson ag
the wattles of an enraged turkey-cock, his tongue struggling
for utterance, and his eyes protruding, like pupils about to
be expelled by the head master, " a comfort in choking ! "
Yes, my dear Alderman, as an evidence of active
existence. Unlike the race-horse, every cough is in your
favour.
For my own part, oh, how vividly I delighted in the
grating in the throat, the soreness of the lungs, the watering
of the eyes, which told how^ instead of being dead, I had
34
534 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
merely lost my breath ! How deliciously I enjoyed every
symptom, otherwise disagreeable, of vitality ! The imputed
absence of my life made me intensely sensible of its presence.
I felt, methought, the warm blood coursing through my veins
and arteries, and tingling in the very nails of my fingers and
toes. Every movement of the machine, beforetime with-
drawn from notice, had become decidedly perceptible. I had
a distinct notion of the peristaltic motion, and seemed
absolutely conscious of the growth of my hair !
" What, without Macassar ! Impossible ! "
Perhaps so, Mr. Rowland, but it seemed probable. And
then how delightedly I strutted about, and boxed with
Nobody, and fenced with my own shadow, and spouted like
a 'Bartlemy Tragedian. No, no — I was not dead. A
gentleman who eats two breakfasts
"And lightly draws his breath,
And feels his life in ev'ry limb,
What should he know of Death ?"
My next act was to ring for my servant, who entered, and
found me- grimacing before the looking-glass— dead men
don't make faces.
• " John, where was I, and what did I do on Friday last, the
3rd instant 1 "
' Let me see — you rowed on the river, sir, in the wherry."
■^What, with Charon?"
« No, sir, with Mr. Emery."
" Veiy good, that will do, John."
And joyous as a blackbird in Spring, I began to whistle
Dibdin's air of "Jack's Alive." By an association of ideas,
Dibdin's verses put me in mind of Sterne, and darting off at
a tangent to my library I pulled down the fii-st volume of
Tristram Shandy, and began to read aloud the extempore
CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 535
lecture of Corporal Trim on the text of " Are we not here
now, and are we not gone in a moment ?" with his cocked hat
illustration of sudden death. " But I am alive," said the
foolish, fat scullion.
Oh, how I admired that fat scullion ! I could have hugged
her in spite of her grease — our feelings, our sympathies were
in such perfect unison ! Trim's Funeral Sermon had been to
her the same in effect as my obituary paragraph in the
Herald.
In the meantime, the ten o'clock Clapham omnibus called
for me as usual; I put on my hat and gloves, took my
walking-stick (the dead don't walk with sticks), got into the
vehicle, seated myself, and remarked with a smile all round.
" Well, this is better than a hearse."
A speech natural aiia significant enough under my peculiar
circumstances, but to the rest of the company, who wanted
the key, a mere impertinent truism.
One gentleman in particular seemed personally disgusted
and offended by the observation, and on glancing at his
beaver, I perceived he wore a hatband. Somebody dead of
course — but it was not Peregrine Phc6nix, Esquire, of
Clapham Rise, a reflection which made that vivacious
personage as merry as the music after a soldier s funeral.
The confinement of the omnibus, and the reserve of its
passengers, ere long became intolerable ; the first cramped
the physical activity, and the last checked the flow of animal
spirits of a man more alive than common. So takmg a
hearty tug at the conductor's dreadnought, I was set down,
and walked off at the rate of four miles an hour, and
humming,
"Life let us cherish,'*
along the London-road. But I was soon arrested by a
536 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
spectacle of uncommon interest — an undertaker's shop, with
all the grim and glittering emblems of the craft in the
window. I had passed them a hundred times before without
notice, but now the establishment had for me all the interest
of an exhibition.
I examined every painted scutcheon, as if for an aesthetic
critique — scrutinized the mottoes and inscriptions as if for an
archaeological essay — examined each crest and blazonry with
heraldic relish, and inspected the shining coflBin-plates and
handles with the zest of an antiquary poring over rusty
pieces of antique armour. A device of a flying cherub was
gazed at like a design of Kaffaele's, and the notification of
** Funerals Performed," was read over and over again like a
love posy. But above all, I was smitten with an emblem
which had formerly seemed rather a repulsive one — a Death's
head and cross-bones — especially the dreary skull with its
vacant eyelet holes, and that sardonic grin — whereas now, a
laughing eye within the dark cavity seemed to tip me a
knowing wink, and the ghastly grin was become a smile so
contagious, that I felt myself smiling from ear to ear.
All this time the hammer had sounded merrily — yes,
merrily from the interior of the shop, and looking in at the
door, I saw the master, with his journeyman, busied in the
last decoration of a handsome black coffin, lined with white
satin — to some, perhaps, a dismal object, but to me a poetical
one, like
'A sable cloud
That turns its silver lining on the night."
T read the name engraved on the silver plate thrice over, and
with a novel but pleasant curiosity, informed myself minutely
of all the particulars of the age, business, and circumstances
of the deceased.
And when, pray, did the poor gentleman die 1
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 537
" On the 3rd instant, sir, rather suddenly."
The very day that / did not ! — Oh ! the electric thrill of
life that ran through every fibre of my frame at that
coincidence of dates ! The vivid revelation of a stirrmg, vital
principle, that glowed from head to heel ! I am convinced
that for a man to know, to feel, to enjoy his existence, to be
properly conscious of his being, he must be put into the
Obituary ! Till then, he is like the flounders that didn't
flounder.
" But the fish are dead," objected the Cook.
" Not them," said the Fishwoman, tossing the last flounder
into the blue and white dish. " Just see how they'll kick
when they comes to the hot lard. Why, bless ye, they're as
alive as you are, only they don't know it till they're put in
the pan."
CHAPTER VI.
« Then after all," says Mrs. Grundy, a lively, loquacious
old lady, familiarly known to a very wide circle of friends
and acquaintance, " it is not so very disagreeable to be killed
by the press 1 "
By no means, madam — rather reviving than otherwise — as
good as a snifi" of hartshorn, sal volatile, or aromatic vinegar,
and much more agreeable than burnt-feathers — a bunch of
black ostrich-plumes always excepted.
" Well, I should have thought that such a broad hint in
black and white would be a memento mori — a sort of 'Philip,
remember thou art mortal.' "
* Quite the reverse, ma'am. A memento vitse — a fillip to
the animal spirits — a * remember thou art alive,' Dead men,
you know, don't read their own obituaries."
538 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
" True. Nevertheless, the sudden shock of such a frigid
announcement — "
Like the shock of a shower-bath, ma'am. Cold, bufc
bracing ; and for a phlegmatic temperament, the finest and
safest stimulus in the world ! Gives a glow to the skin— a
healthy tone to the nerves — improves the appetite, corrects
the spleen, and tickles the cockles of the heart and the
risible muscles. You have heard, ma'am, of a lightening
before death 1
" Yes — Romeo alludes to it."
Well, it's nothing to the lightening after it ! I mean in
print. Talk of Parr's Life Pills, or the Elixir Vitse !— a kill
by the press is the Grand Catholicon — a specific for ennui or
tedium vitse, a sovereign remedy for Hypochondriasis, and
infallible for Suicidal Monomania ! Only let a newspaper
hint that you are a corpse, and it makes you quite another
thing — a Harlequin, a Pope-dancer, a Tumbler, a Dancing
Fakir, a Springheel'd Jack. But not to advertise a remedy
without a case — there was Lord Cowdenknows, who was
killed by the Times.
" Ah, by an upset of his carriage."
Yes — with one horse's hoof on his sternum, another on his
OS frontis, a wheel on his epigastrium, and the broken
axletree through his abdomen. No mortal was ever pressed
to death more completely — and what is the result ? Why,
an intense consciousness of his existence, and the continual
assertion of his vitality by a vivacious volubility an^
volatility amounting almost to a nuisance. He reminds us
that Lord Cowdenknows is alive with a vengeance ! — his
enemies by astounding pats on the head and confounding
elaps on the back ; and his friends by disconcerting digs in
the ribs, or staggering punches in the stomach. No practical
joker in the exuberance of his animal spirits ever played
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 589
more pranks. On one head he pours melted-butter, on a
second cold water, on a third vinegar, smears a fourth with
honey, a fifth with cantharides, a sixth with treacle, a seventh
with tar, an eighth with bear's-grease, a ninth with mustard,
a tenth with cold-cream, an eleventh with paste, a twelfth
with cowage, and then daubs an unlucky Quaker with
ink. One he trips up, and astonishes another with a coup di
In short, he is all alive and kicking — " all manner of
ways.
CHAPTER VII.
" Now I think of it," says Mnemosyne, again pressing the
organ of memory with her right fore-finger, and gently
smiling as if some pleasant image rose up before the mental
eye, " There was Squire Foxall, a martyr to that melancholy
humour called Hypochondriasis, and who was cured by the
Press. Many a serio-comic scene there was between the
master and his man Roger, a confidential servant of the old
school, shrewd, trusty, and as blunt as a spad-e."
" Well, Roger," the master would say, after a very long and
solemn shaking of his head, " I am going at last."
" Glad on it — to Swaffham, in course % "
" No, Roger, no — to another world."
" What, to Amerikey ? "
" No, to another and a better one, Roger — to the world of
spirits."
"Ah, that's along o' missing your brandy — you be low,
you be."
**Not so low as I shall be, Roger. I'm at death's door — I
have double knocked, and am scraping my shoes, and it will
540 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
Boon be, walk in. Now, Roger, remember when I'm gone
that Mr. Bewlay— "
*f Yes, yes — I know. He have got the last o' your last
wills. Your nevy will come into the land, and your niece is
to have your personal bulk."
" No, Roger — that was the will before. I've made another
since then — but no matter. I've done with money and land.
All I require now is a little turf."
" Well — there's a whole stack on it i' the rick-yard, and
when you've burnt out that — "
"Never, Roger, never! I'm burnt out myself — quite
down in the socket, and shall go oflf Hke a snuff. I am ready,
Roger, for the gamer.
" Yes, yes, and com for the sickle, and grass for the scythe,
and a ripe plum for the basket, and a brown leaf for hopping
the twig. I know all that by heart."
" I'm a dying man, Roger, and you know it. I haven't
twelve hours to live — no, not six, before I pay the debt of
nature.'
*' Dang the debt o' nature ! I wish you had none to settle
but hem. But it am't do yet, it am't."
" Due and overdue, Roger. The receipt's made out, and
before to-morrow you will have another master."
" No, I shan't, I ham't had no wamin."
" But / have, Roger. Here, feel my pulse. It stopped
just now for two minutes and a half. The circulation is at
a standstill — the heart cannot perform its functions."
" All moonshine, master. It's performing its funkings at
this minit. It's going as regular as the eight-day clock — I
can a'most hear un tick."
" No, no, Roger — that's impossible.**
" Is it 1 Then why do Dr. Darby try to hear it with his
telescope ? '*
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 541
" Stethoscope, Roger — ste-thos-cope. There may be hyper-
trophy for all that. But you know I can't argue with you.
My lungs are quite gone — quite ! "
" No wonder — you've been blowin 'em up this ten year.'*
" They're destroyed, Roger. Pulmonary consumption has
set in — "
" Yes, yes, I know — and they're full of tuber-roses."
" Tubercles, man — and my liver is in no better state."
" No — they're schismatic. And you've got an absence in
your inside — "
" An abscess."
" Well, an abscess in your stomach, and can't digest pro-
perly for want of gas-water."
"A deficiency of the gastric juice. It is all too true,
Roger. Every organ I have is out of order."
" Then I wouldn't play on 'em. Well, what next 1 Why,
you've got a gatherin in your lumbering progresses."
" Lumbar processes — "
"Which in course affects the head, and so you've got a
confusion of water on the brain. Then you've had an
eclectic fit, and three parallel strokes — and there's your
stertian ague, and the intermediate fever — '*
" Intermitting."
" Then, there's the inflammation of your mucus members — ^*
" Membrane, membrane."
" Well, membrane. Next there's your vertical headach — '*
" Vertigo."
" And lord knows what in your intestates and viceruses.
Then there's your legs with their various veins — "
" Varicose."
" And as to your feet, what with hoppin gout in them— -
and flying gout in your stomach — and swimming gout in
your head — ^you're gout all over."
642 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
" Yes, Roger, yes — it has got hold of my whole system,
sure enough. But it's apoplexy I'm afraid of — apoplexy,
Roger. I have giddiness, tinnitus, congestion, lethargy —
every symptom in the book ! "
" Dang the books — it's them as done it ! There's Doctor
Imray's Family Physicker, you've giv yourself over ever
since you brought it home. And then there's Doctor
Winslow's book, and Doctor Frankum's, as made you believe
between 'em, that you'd got a turned head and a pendulum
belly—"
" Pendulous, Roger, pendulous."
" Well, it's all one. And then their plaguy formuluses for
making up your own prescriptions. You'll proscribe yourself
into heaven, you will some day, with yoiu* blue pills and
hydrangea powders — "
" Hydrarge powders."
" It can't be good for nobody to swallow so much calumny.
And then your dabblin with them deadly poisons, though you
know as well as I do, that three Prussian Acidulated Drops
would kill a horse."
" You mean Prussic acid. But in some affections, Roger,
it is of great service."
" Yes, like Oxonian acid, for boot-tops. Then, there's the
newspapers. I do believe there an't a quack medicine adver-
tised, but you've tried 'em all, from Cockle's Antibiling pills,
and the Febrifudges to Sarcy Barilla. Lord ! lord ! the
heaps of nasty messes you have swallowed sure-ly ! Not to
forget the Horse Physic you took arter readin in Doctor
Elliotson that the human two-legged specious could ketch
the glanders ! "
"And was the poor man cured of his Hypochondriasis V*
Yes, by the County Chronicle, into which some wag intro-
duced an announcement of his sudden demise, " after a com-
THE COirrESSIONS OF A x'HCENIX. 543
plication of disorders home for a long series of yean vdth
unexampled cheerfulness and resignation^ The effect on the
patient was miraculous ! Instead of damping his spirits or
shocking his nerves, it set up his lumbagoed back, roused
his sluggish spleen, stimulated his torpid liver, stirred his
lethargic lights, warmed his congested blood till it boiled
a-gallop, and turned his flagging heart to a coeur de lion.
He declared loudly that the paragraph originated in a
political spite — swore that it was intended as a hint for his
assassination, and vowed that he would horsewhip the Editor
of the diabolical newspaper in his own infernal office.
And he was as good as his word — for which practical
sincerity he had to pay a hundred pounds for damages, and
as much more in costs. The cure however was complete.
His old affections vanished as if by magic ; and now his only
complaints in the world are of the impudence of counsel, the
partiality of judges, the stupidity of juries, the uncertainty
of the law, the murderous propensities of the Whigs, the
rascality of venal Editors, and the intolerable licentiousness
of the Press.
CHAPTER VIII.
" And don't you think, sir," asks Self Preservation, in a
close ball-proof silk corslet, under his figured waistcoat,
" don't you think that the fellow who takes another man's
life, though only in a newspaper, ought to be shut up for
ever, if not hung — as a Homicidal Monomaniac 1 "
By no means — nor will you either, my dear Number One,
when your feelings, which temporary excitement has raisea
from Blood Heat to the Fever Pitch, have subsided to their
544 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHOENIX.
natural temperature. For my own part, I blush for my
countrymen. There is something of cowardice as well as
cruelty in the present irrational outcry for chains, cells,
strait-jackets, and — fie on it ! — even halters for the lunatic.
A return to the barbarous system of our ancestors, when
insanity was treated as a crime, and punished with a severity
beyond the severest prison discipline of the present day.
" No matter," says Number One, " I stick by the first law
of Nature — so Protection ! Protection ! Protection ! "
" Protection ! Protection ! " shrieks Fear, with her hand
before her eyes.
"Protection, Pro — tection," shouts Folly, out of wantonness,
— and the Spirit of Imitation, like Echo, repeats the cry.
" Protection ! Protection ! " bawl a milhon voices, while
with better reason. Conscious Guilt — the poor man's Op-
pressor — the Robber of the Widow and the Orphan — the
Heart-Breaker, and the Brain-Breaker — vociferously swells
the clamour, aware in his felon soul how richly he has
earned the stab or the shot from the weapon of frenzy !
For my own part, my fears look the other way, and my
cry would be for better defence against the Sane. Not the
half-witted, but the sharp-witted — not the crazy, but the
clear-headed — not the non-compos, but the homicidal lucid
fellows who do not babble of Covenants, or Chambers's
Journal, or the Customs, who neither brandish knives, nor
draw triggers, nor even " throw about fire " — and yet delibe-
rately take our lives, for they do " take the means by which
we live." Against such, Law and Justice ! defend me.
Only protect me from the sane Foxes, and I will take my
chance about the March Hares !
Still Society, with her numberless throats, roars "Pro-
tection ! "
Heavens ! what are a few bewildered creatures roaming
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX-. 545
the earth, though furnished with sticks, staves, swords, and
guns, to the legion of sound Destructives who go at large,
armed with " a little brief authority," and a billy-roller or a
forge hammer ! When did Homicidal Monomania, with all
her mischievous malignity, and all her weapons, when did
she cripple a child per day, or poke out thirty pairs of eyes
during one short court mourning ?
But still the Hydra shouts, with all its mouths in chorus,
for " Protection ! "
Such popular outcries against a class are always perilous,
and apt to lead to cruelty and injustice. So, perhaps, some
centuries ago originated a prejudice and persecution against
a description of human beings quite as forlorn and desolate,
only the Homicidal Monomaniacs of those times were called
Wizards and Witches.
It is fit and proper, no doubt, for the security of society,
that dangerous Lunatics shoxild be so confined as to prevent
their carrying any murderous design into effect — but to
judge by the popular ferment, and the vehemence of the
outcry for more Protection, I fear Society would hardly be
satisfied with anything short of the incarceration of every
individual who happened to go ungartered, or to button his
doublet awry ; and above all, the establishment of a Cordon
Sanitaire between South and North Britain, with positive
orders to shoot every Scotchman who crossed the Tweed with
a bee in his bonnet. For be it noted, that Scotland compa-
ratively swarms with what she calls, in her own dialect,
" daft, or dementit bodies " — every city, every town, nay,
every pelting petty village has its carazy or imbecile Goose
Gibbie, or Davy Gellatly. Nevertheless, even the Provosts
and the Bailies sleep in whole skins, and would be intensely
surprised if they could not get their lives insured at as low
rates as their neighbours.
546 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
The truth is, the English public was always haunted—
as Goldsmith points out in his Essays — by some popular
Bugbear ; and he instances an epidemic terror of Mad Dogs.
There is something of this national characteristic in the
present panic, which really amounts to a general monomania
about monomaniacs. Every day some person or other de-
nounces his or her homicidal lunatic ; and as human heads
cannot be rung like bells or glasses, or sounded like sove-
reigns on wooden counters or stone-steps, to ascertain if they
are cracked, the magistrates are sorely puzzled, and half-
crazed themselves, by a question on which Lawyers with
Physicians, and even Doctors with Doctors, are at issue.
The dispute between the two learned Professions promises,
indeed, to become " a very pretty quarrel."
" And pray, sir, how do you think it will end 1 '*
Heaven only knows, madam. But, between ourselves, I
do not despair of a very Rabelaisian termination — namely,
the Big Wigs proving that the Gold-Headed Canes know
nothing about Mental Disease ; and the Gold-Headed Canes
proving that the Big Wigs know nothing about Juris-
prudence.
CHAPTER IX.
" Hark ! " cries Alarm, holding up a warning finger, listen-
ing and looking as if she saw something.
"Eh! — what! — where?" inquires bewildered Surdity,
dancing with excitement, and looking hastily North — Nor-
nor-East, — Nor-East, — East-Nor-East — East, and so all round
the compass.
" A Comet of the first magnitude," says Rumour, bedecked
THE CONFESSIOl^S OF A PHCENIX. 547
in her old robe, all over tongues, and breathless with running
down " all sorts of streets."
" A what 1 " asks Surdity, eagerly poking his acoustical
naainpipe into his best ear, and trying to lay on the report.
" A new Comedian 1 "
" No — a great new Comic that has appeared in the Hare,'*
bawls officious Ignorance into the bell of the flexible Voice-
Conductor. " A voluminous body, with an inflammatory tail,
as reaches, they say, from Sir William Herschel in England,
to Mr. Cooper in Italy."
"Three hundred and sixty degrees in length," puts in
Popular Exaggeration.
"Why then we shall have a fiery belt all round us,'*
exclaims a female voice from Prospect House — "like the
Planet Satan."
" An awful Phenomenon ! " says Mrs. Aspenall, trembling
Hke a leaf.
" A Fiery Dragon ! " mutters Superstition : " with a sul-
furious tail of burning brimstone, from the bottomless pit.**
" We shall all be burnt alive ! " roars Vulgar Error, run-
ning into the back-yard, and plumping up to his chin in the
water-butt.
" There will be another Deluge ! " cries a Whistonian
Theorist, determined at any price to purchase a life-boat and
a cork-jacket ; having proved in print, that Noah's Flood was
certainly caused by a Comet.
" It will approximate into physical collision with our ter-
restrial globe," says the Schoolmaster, abroad, "and oblite-
rate our sublunary planet into infinitesimal fractions ! "
" We shall have changes and revolutions," murmurs a Con-
tinental Monarch with pale lips,
*' War ! Pestilence ! and Famine ! " bellows a Modem
Astrologer 1
648 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCEWIX
**And Earthquakes," croaks an unshaken believer in the
shocking predictions of the old Monk of Dree and Doctor
Dee.
" It will blow up our Powder-Works," groans a resident
near Waltham Abbey.*
"And diy up oui* Water-Works," moans a Chelsea
Director, turning to all the colours of a Dolphin out of its
element.
" It's played the dickens already with the Consternations,"
says Ignorance. " They do say as how it's singed the Ram,
set fire to the Wirgin, roasted the Bull whole, scorched up
the Man with the Watering-pot, and fried all the heavenly
Fishes ! "
"So much the better ! " ejaculates the Lord Mayor.
" So much the better ! " exclaims his Worship of Bow-
street.
" So much the better ! " cries his Worship of Marlborough-
street.
" So much the better ! " observes his Worship of Hatton-
Garden.
" So much the better ! " remarks his Worship of Mary-
lebone.
" So much the better ! " echoes his Worship of Queen-
square,
" So much the better ? " says his Worship of Worship-
street, briskly rubbing his hands together, and drawing a
long deep sigh of satisfaction from somewhere about the
solar plexus — " so much the better ! The public panic will
now perhaps take another direction, and instead of the daily
monomaniac, and the everlasting question, " How's his head ? "
it will be, " Where's its tail ? "
• As good a prophecy as any of Zadkiel's : for the Waltham Powder
Works actually blew up, about a fortnight after the hint in print.
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PH(ENIX. 549
CHAPTER X.
But Mr. Hatband —
The Undertaker was so delighted with the interest I had
taken in his work, and the decoration of the coffin, that on
parting, he presented to me his card, which he gave me with
a pleasure only inferior to mine on receiving it, but derived
from a very different source — he supposing that I had some
funeral order in store for him, and I exulting that there had
been no occasion, on my own behalf, for his services — in
reality, feeling very much like a man who has just escaped,
untouched, from a meeting with a dead shot.
The sun was chining brilliantly, and the morning was
delicious; one of those Spring mornings when we seem to
walk on spring boards ; but never on elastic wood, or turf,
did man tread so lightly as Peregrine Phoenix, Esq., on the
broad flat flag-stones, pleasantly contemplating, now and
then, the active shadow, which proved that he was not a
shade. It was the most agreeable promenade I ever enjoyed
— that solitary walk to the West End — making a dozen
satisfactory purchases by the way ; for example, a stick of
red seahng-wax, simply because it was not black — a piece of
Holland linen for shirting, which "was warranted to wear
well," and two pair of trousers that were ticketed " Ever-
lastings." The next shop but one to the draper's was a
Circulating Library, a rather pretty repository; but there
was a placard of the terms in the window, and although the
act cost me a guinea, I could not resist going in and sub-
scribing/or a year.
A Statuary's a few yards further on supplied me, like the
Undertaker's, with some very comfortable cogitation. For
3b
650 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
the first time since my birth, I found a charm in pot-
bellied monumental Urns — in stone-blind Cherubs with wigs
d, la mode and alabaster — and in petrified Angels, with winga
of good solid masonry, blowing dumb coach-horns. They
were finer to me, in my peculiar frame of mind, than
Phidian sculptures. And then those polished, snow-like
marble slabs and tablets, how cheerfully they shone in the
bright sunshine ! It was indeed my lucky day, marked mth
white stones 1 Yes, lucky, although in turning away frocc
the statuary's, I was run against, full butt, by a workman
with a package of laths under his arm, that came in
uncomfoi-table contact with my body, a little below the
chest. But the poor fellow begged my pardon so humbly,
that it was impossible for a Christian, and especially under
my circumstances, to refuse it.
" Well, well, pick up my hat. That poke in the stomach
has given me a strong conviction, at any rate, of my
corporeal vitality."
" I'm sorry to hear it, sir," replied the workman, " I am
indeed, and I hope it's a feeling as will soon wear off."
But my greatest triumphs awaited me at my Club. Oh !
the indescribable look of the porter, when he saw my Ghost
thrust open the glazed door.! — the unutterable astonishment
of the waiter when my Apparition ordered a biscuit and a
glass of sherry — the profound mystification of my friend B.
when my Spirit carelessly asked him the current price of
Long Annuities. The other members present were eq^lally
amazed. Some started up — most of them ejaculated — all
stared — one choked — and a tumbler of Bass's Pale Ale
dropped with a crash on the floor. Had I walked into the
room ^ la Phoenix, in a pair of incombustible asbestos
trousers, blazing with burning sp'rits of wine, there could
not have been a greater sensation. Ho\\ ever, the excitement
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX. 551
subsided at last, and gave place to boisterous congratulations.
The news of my sudden demise had circulated amongst my
club intimates and acquaintance, and to do them justice
they hailed my resurrection from my ashes as cordially as if
they had conjointly underwritten my life.
A House Dinner was proposed to celebrate my revival;
and fixed for seven precisely. The interval I employed
3hiefly in the pleasant task of composing a public contradic-
tion of the paragraph in the "Herald," and writing bulletins of
my perfect health to all my friends and acquaintances, and
some few others, including a tradesman or two, and the
actuary of the Eagle Assurance. And when the missives
were done and delivered to the house-steward for the post,
with what gusto I added, " Mind, not the Dead Letter
Office!" — ^while the steward stared by turns at the enor-
mous red seal, and the staring P. PHCENIX, in the comer
of each envelope, intended to break my life to my cor-
respondents.
" And did the dinner go off well, Mr. Phoenix ? "
Excellently, madam. The best I ever ate. Every delicacy
of the season — the most delicious fruits I ever tasted — the
most exquisite wines I ever drank. Then everybody was in
capital spirits, and myself above all (good reason why) —
joking, punning, telling my best stories (dead men tell no
tales), and laughing, like one of the Immortals. Then after
the cloth was drawn, the toasts that were drunk — not in
solemn silence — but vociferously, with all the honours, " The
Arabian Bird" — " Never say Die," — " Many Happy Eetums
of the Day," and the songs that were sung, and the speeches
that were made, including my own, in which I assured the
company, with unusual sincerity, that upon my Hfe (a phrase
since become habitual with me) it was the happiest day of
my life — one to be remembered to my last hour — but which,
552 THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
in spite of somebody putting on my clock, like the grim
Covenanter in " Old Mortality," had not yet arrived.
" Hear, hear, hear ! " shouted my auditors, and to tell the
truth, I joined lustily in their cheering, out of sheer self-
congratulation. If ever a human biped enjoyed the nine-
fold vitality of the feline quadruped, it was mine at that
moment. I was full, brimming, overflowing with life ; there
was enough in me, had I been chopped up like a polypus, to
animate a dozen Phoenixes !
It was nearly dawn ere we broke up, when between two
companions, who — ^these are Confessions — looked sometimes
like four, I set out to walk home, not walking as a mechanic
plods to his work, or as an invalid ambulates for exercise,
but with occasional skips and curvetings, or a little run, in
one of which courses my head came in collision with a lamp-
post, and gratified me with ocular demonstration of my
existence in a shower of vital sparks. Nor yet did we
proceed quite so mumchance as quakers, or boarding-school
misses, but whistling, warbling trios, and occasionally
shouting in chorus, when just at the bottom of Waterloo-
place, or it might be the top of the Haymarket — by some
mystery not to be explained — through some Casus Belli
never clearly defined — for it was in the days of Tom and
Jerryism, when war was seldom formally declared — all at
once I found myself engaged in battle royal, or rather
republican — it was so free and independent — with an
unknown number of opponents. My new life, probably, was
in danger, for I fought for it like a tiger, wrestling, hugging,
tugging, kicking, pushing, striking right and left, and being
kicked, pushed, and belaboured in return. One unlucky
punch, I suspect, pimched out my centre of gravity, from
my difficulty afterwards in keeping my legs. Sometimes I
was on my feet^ sometimes on ray head, now on my back,
THE CONFESSIONS OF A PHCENIX.
663
then on my front, then on my side, and then on my seat—
bounding, scrambling, rolling, up again, posturing, squaring,
warding, and down again — at first dry, next wet, then
tattered and torn, but still fighting, encouraged by shouts of
** Go it, Lively ! " though purblind, giddy, bleeding, and
almost out of that precious article, my breath. Still the
battle raged with various success ; my spirit, or spirits, for I
seemed to have several within me, yet unsubdued, when just
in the middle of a furious rally, in the very crisis of victory,
I was caught up horizontally, and before tongue could cry
rescue, Peregrine Phoenix, Esquire, the Dead Man of the
" Morning Herald," was borne ofi" kicking and shouting at
the top of his voice " Hurrah for Life — Hurrah for Life —
Hm-rah for Life — Life — Life in London ! "
Here shall the Muse frame no excuse,
But frame the man himself."
THE EPPING HUNT.
BT
THOMAS HOOD, ESQ
Author of " Whims and Odditiet*
ILLUSTRATKD WITH
SIX. ENGEAVINGS ON WOOD,
BY
BRANSTON & WRIGHT, BONNER, SLADER, <fe T. WILLIAM^,
after tf)e Mz^i^m
GW
GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
"Hunts Roastkd'*-
ADVEimSEMENT.
Sthibing in the Steps of Strutt — ^the historian of the old
English Sports — the author of the following pages has en-
deavoured to record a yearly revel, already fast hastening to
decay. The Easter Chase will soon oe numbered with the
pastimes of past times : its dogs will have had their day, and
its Deer will be Eallow. A few more seasons, and this City
Common Hunt will become uncommon.
In proof of this melancholy decadence, the ensuing epistle in
inserted. It was penned by an underling at the Wells, a person
more accustomed to riding than writing.
" Sir,
" About the Hunt. In anser to your Innqueries, their
as been a great falling off laterally, so much so this year that
there was nobody allmost. We did a mear nothing provisionally,
hardly a bottle extra, which is a proof in Pint. In short out
Hunt may be sad to be in the last Stag of a Decline.
" I am, Sir,
** With respects from
" Vour humble Servant,
*• Baktholomew Butt.**
THE EPPING HUNT.
* On Monday they began to Hunt."
Chkvy Chase.
John Huggins was as bold a man
As trade did ever know,
A. warehouse good lie had, that stood
Hard by the church of Bow.
There people bought Dutch cheeses round,
And single Glos'ter flat,—
And English butter in a lump,
And Irish — in a pat.
Six days a week beheld him stand,
His business next his heart,
At counter with his apron tied
About his counter-part.
The seventh in a sluice-house box
He took his pipe and pot ;
On Sundays for eel-piety,
A very noted spot.
Ah, blest if he had never gone
Beyond its rural shed !
One Easter-tide, some evil guide
Put Epping in his head !
Epping for butter justly fam'd, '
And pork in sausage pop't ;
Where winter time, or summer time,
Pig's flesh is always ckjp^i.
558 THE EPPING HUNT.
But famous more, as annals tell.
Because of Easter chase ;
There ev'ry year, *twixt dog and deer.
There is a gallant race.
With Monday's sun John Huggins rose.
And slapt his leather thigh,
And sang the burthen of the song,
" This day a stag must die."
For all the live-long day before,
And all the night in bed,
Like Beckford, he had nourish'd " Thoughts
On Hunting " in his head.
Of horn and morn, and hark and bark,
And echo's answering sounds.
All poets* wit hath every writ
In dog-Y&l verse of hounds.
Alas there was no warning voice
To whisper in his ear,
Thou art a fool in leaving Cheap
To go and hunt the deer /
No thought he had of twisted spine,
Or broken arms or legs ;
Not chicken-hearted he, altho'
'Twas whisper'd of his egg^ 1
Ride out he would, and hunt he wonlii.
Nor dreamt of ending ill ;
Mayhap with Dr. Ridonfs fee,
And Surgeon Hunter's bill
THE EPPING HUNT. 559
So he drew on his Sunday boots,
Of lustre superfine ;
The liquid black they wore that day,
Was Warren-ied to shine.
His yellow buckskins fitted close,
As once upon a stag ;
Thus well equipt, he gaily skipt
At once upon his nag.
But first to him that held the rein
A crown he nimbly flung ;
For holding of the horse ? — why, no—
ro? holding of his tongue.
To say the horse was Huggins* own.
Would only be a brag ;
His neighbour Pig and he went halves,
Like Centaurs, in a nag.
And he that day had got the gray,
Unknown to brother cit ;
The horse he knew would never tell,
Altho' it was a tit.
A well bred horse he was I wis.
As he began to show.
By quickly " rearing up within
The way he ought to go."
But Huggins, like a wary man.
Was ne'er from saddle casts
Resolved, by going very slow.
On sitting very fast.
560 THE EPPING HUNT.
And so he jogged to Tot'n'am Cross,
An ancient town well known,
Where Edward wept for Eleanor
In mortar and in stone.
A royal game of fox and goose.
To play on such a loss ;
Wherever she set down her orU^
Thereby he put a cross.
Now Huggins had a crony here,
That lived beside the way ;
One that had promised sure to be
His comrade for the day.
Whereas the man had chang'd his mind.
Meanwhile upon the case !
And meaning not to hunt at all,
Had gone to Enfield Chase.
For why, his spouse had made him vow
To let a game alone,
Where folks that ride a bit of blood,
May break a bit of bone.
" Xow, be his wife a plague for life I
A coward sure is he ; **
Then Huggins turned his horse's head,
And crossed the briage or Lea.
Thence slowly on thro' Laytonstone,
Past many a Quaker's box, —
No firiends to hunters after deer.
The' followers of a lb«.
THE EPPING HUNT. 661
And many a score behind — before —
The self-same" route inclin'd.
And minded all to march one way.
Made one great march of mind.
Gentle and simple, he and she.
And swell, and blood, and prig ;
And some had carts, and some a chaise,
According to their gig.
Some long-ear'd jacks, some knacker's hacks
(However odd it sounds,)
Let out that day to hunt, instead
Of going to the hounds !
And some had horses of their own,
And some were forced to job it ;
And some, while they inclin'd to Hunt^
Betook themselves to Cob-it,
All sorts of vehicles and vans,
Bad, middling, and the smart ;
Here roU'd along the gay barouche.
And there a dirty cart I
And lo ! a cart that held a squad
Of costermonger line ;
With one poor hack, like Pegasus,
That slav'd for all the Nine I
Yet marvel not at any load,
That any horse might drag ;
When all, that morn, at once were drawn
Together by a stag I
THE EPPING HUNT.
Now when they saw John Huggins go
At such a sober pace ;
*' Hallo ! *' cried they ; *' come, trot away.
You'll never see the chase I "
But John, as grave as any judge.
Made answers quite as blunt ;
" It will be time enough to trot.
When I begin to hunt 1 "
And so he paced to Woodford Wells,
Where many a horseman met,
And letting go the reins, of course.
Prepared for heam/ wet.
And lo ! within the crowded door.
Stood Bounding, jovial elf;
Here shall the Muse frame no excuse,
But frame the man himself.
A snow white head, a merry eye,
A cheek of jolly blush ;
A claret tint laid on by health.
With master reynard's brush ;
A hearty frame, a courteous bow,
The prince he learn' d it from ;
His age about three-score and ten.
And there you have Old Tom,
In merriest key I trow was he.
So many guests to boast ;
So certain congregations meet.
And elevate the host.
THE EPPING HUNT.
563
564 THE EPPING HUNT.
" Now welcome, lads," quoth he, " ana prads,
You're all in glorious luck :
Old Robin has a run to-day,
A noted forest buck.
Fair Mead's the place, where Bob and Tom,
In red already ride ;
'Tis but a step, and on a horse
You soon may go a stride.'*
So off they scamper'd, man and horse.
As time and temper press'd; —
But Huggins, hitching on a tree,
Branched off from all the rest.
Howbeit he tumbled down in time
To join with Tom and Bob,
All in Fair Mead, which held that day
Its own fan- meed of mpb.
Idlers to wit — no Guardians some,
Of Tattlers in a squeeze ;
Eamblers, in heavy carts and vans,
Spectators, up in trees.
Butchers on backs of butcher's backs,
That shamble to and fro' !
Bakers intent upon a buck,
Neglectful of the dough !
Change Alley Bears to speculate.
As usual, for a fall ;
And green and scarlet runners, such
As never climb'd a wall I
IKK EPPING HUNT.
565
SnO THE EPPING HUNT.
'Twas strange to think what ditterence
A single creature made ;
A single stag had caused a whole
Staffnoiion in their trade.
Now Huggins from his saddle rose.
And in the stirrups stood ;
And lo ! a little cart that came
Hard by a little wood.
In shape like half a hearse, — tho" not
For corpses in the least ;
For this contained the deer alive.
And not the deer deceased/
And now began a sudden stir,
And then a sudden shout,
The prison-doors were openea wide,
And Kobin bounded out !
His antler'd head shone blue and red
Bedeck'd with ribbons fine ;
Like other bucks that come to 'list
The hawbucks in the line.
One curious gaze of mild amaze.
He turn'd and shortly took :
Then gently ran adown the mead.
And bounded o'er the brook.
Now Huggins, standing far aloof.
Had never seen the deer.
Till all at once he saw tne beast
ijome charging in his ^ear.
THE EPPING Hmn. 567
Away he went, and many a score
Of riders did the same,
On horse and ass — ^like high and low
And Jack pursuing game !
Good lord ! to see the riders now,
Thrown off with sudden whirl,
A score within the purling brook,
Enjoy'd their " early purl."
A score were sprawling on the grass.
And beavers fell in show'rs ;
There was another Floorer there.
Beside the Queen of Mowers !
Some lost their stirrups, some their whips,
Some had no caps to show ;
But few, like Charles at Charing Cross,
Eode on in Statue quo.
" O, dear ! O, dear ! " now might you hear
" I've surely broke a bone ; "
" My head is sore," — with many more
Such speeches from the thrown.
Howbeit their wailings never mov'd
The wide satanic clan,
Who grinned, as once the devil grinn'd.
To see the Fall of Man.
And hunters good, that understood,
Their laughter knew no bounds,
To see the horses " throwing off,"
So long before the hounds.
568 THE EPPING HUNT.
For deer must have due course of law»
Like men the Courts among ;
Before those Barristers the dogs
Proceed to " giving tongue."
But now Old Bobin's foes were set,
That fatal taint to find.
That always is scent after him,
Yet always left behind.
And here observe how dog and man
A different temper shows,
What hound resents that he is sent
To follow his own nose ?
Towler and Jowler — howlers all,
No single tongue was mute ;
The stag had led a hart, and lo !
The whole pack follow 'd suit.
No spur he lack'd, fear stuck a knife
And fork in either haunch ;
And every dog he knew had got
An eye-tooth to his paunch !
Away, away ! he scudded like
A ship before the gale ;
Now flew to " hills we know not of,"
Now, nun-like, took the vale.
Another squadron charging now.
Went off at furious pitch ; —
A perfect Tarn o* Shanter mob.
Without a single witch.
THE EPPING HUNT. 669
But who was he with flying skirts,
A hunter did endorse.
And like a poet seem'd to ride
Upon a winged horse ?
A whipper in P no whipper in :
A huntsman ? no such soul :
A connoisseur, or amateur ?
Why yes, — a Horse Patrole.
A member of police, for whom
The county found a nag,
And, like Acteon in the tale,
He found himself in stag !
Away they went then dog and deer
And hunters all away, —
The maddest horses never knew
Mad stagers such as they I
Some gave a shout, some roU'd about,
And antick'd as they rode.
And butchers whistled on their curs.
And milkmen tally-ho' d!
About two score there were, not more.
That galloped in the race ;
The rest, alas ! lay on the grass,
As once in Chevy Chase !
But even those that galloped on.
Were fewer every minute, —
The field kept getting more select.
Each thicket served to thin it.
570 THE EPPING HUNT.
For some pulled up, and left the hunt.
Some fell in miry bogs,
And vainly rose and " ran a muck,"
To overtake the dogs.
And some, in charging hurdle stakes,
Were left bereft of sense,
What else could be premised of blades.
That never learn'd to fence ?
But Roundings, Tom and Bob, no gate,
Nor hedge nor ditch could stav t
O'er all they went, and did the work
Of leap years in a day !
And by their side see Huggins ride,
As fast as he could speed ;
For, like Mazeppa, he was quite
At mercy of his steed.
No means he had, by timely check.
The gallop to remit,
For firm and fast, between his teeth,
The biter held the bit.
Trees raced along, all Essex fled
Beneath him as he sate, —
He n-ever saw a county go
At such a county rate !
" Hold hard ! hoM hard ! you'll iame the dogs
Quoth Hugging, " So I do, —
IVe got the saddle well in hand.
And hold as hard as you I "
THE EPPING HUNT.
571
672 THE EPPING HUNT.
Good lord ! to see him ride alon^,
And throw his arms about,
As if with stitches in the side,
That he was drawing out !
And now he bounded up and down,
Now like a jelly shook :
Till bump'd and gall'd — yet not wnere Gall,
Por bumps did ever look I
And rowing with his legs the while,
As tars are apt to nde ;
With every kick he gave a prick,
Deep in the horse's side !
But soon the horse was well avenged.
For cruel smart of spurs,
For riding through a moor, he pitched
His master in a furze !
Where sharper set thnn hunger is
He squatted all forlorn ;
And like a bird was singing out
While sitting on a thorn !
Eight glad was he, as well as might be^
Such cushion to resign :
" Possession is nine points," but his
Seemed more than ninety-nine.
Yet worse than all the prickly points
That enter'd in his skin,
His nag was running off the while
The thorns were running in I
THE EPPING HUNT. 673
Now had a Papist seen his sport.
Thus laid upon the shelf,
Altho* no horse he had to cross.
He might have cross'd himself.
Yet surely still the wind is ill
That none can say is fair ;
A jolly wight there was, that rode
Upon a sorry mare I
A sorry mare, that surely came
Of pagan blood and bone ;
For down upon her knees she went
To many a stock and stone !
Now seeing Huggins' nag adrift.
This farmer, shrewd and sage,
Eesolv'd by changing horses here.
To hunt another stage !
Tho' felony, yet who would let
Another's horse alone,
Whose neck is placed in jeoparay
By riding on his own ?
And yet the conduct of the man
Seemed honest-like and fair ;
For he seem'd willing, horse and all.
To go before the mare !
So up on Huggins* horse he got.
And swiftly rode away.
While Huggins mounted on the mar?i
Done brown upon a bav 1
674 THE EPPING HUNT.
And oflF they set, in double chase.
For such was fortune's whim.
The Parmer rode to hunt the stag.
And Huggins hunted him !
Alas ! with one that rode so well
In vain it was to strive ;
A dab was he, as dabs should be —
All leaping and alive !
And here of Nature's kindly care
Behold a curious proof,
As nags are meant to leap, she putb
A frog in every hoof !
Whereas the mare, altho' her share
She had of hoof and frog,
On coming to a gate stopp'd short
As stiff as any log ;
Whilst Huggins in the stirrup stood
With neck like neck of crane.
As sings the Scottish song — " to anti
The ffate his hart had gjme.'*
And, lo ! the dim and distant hunt
Diminish'd in a trice :
The steeds', like Cinderella's team,
Seem'd dwindling into mice ;
Ancl, far remote, each scarlet coat
Soon flitted like a spark, —
Tho' still the forest murmur'd back
An echo of the bark 1
THE EPPING HUNT.
675
676 THE EPPraa HTINT.
But sad at soul John Huggins tum'd :
No comfort he could find.
Whilst thus the " Hunting Chorus " sped,
To stay five bars behind.
For tho' by dint of spur he get
A leap in spite of fate —
Howbeit there was no toll at all,
They could not clear the gate.
And, like Pitzjames, he cursed the hunt.
And sorely cursed the day,
And mused a new Gray's elegy
On his departed gray I
Now many a sign at Woodford Town
Its Inn-vitation tells :
But Huggins, full of ills, of course
Betook him to the Wells,
Where Bounding tried to cheer him up
Witb many a merry laugh :
But Huggins thought of neighbour Fig,
And call'd for half-and-half.
Yet, spite of drink, he could not blink
Eemembrance of his loss ;
To drown a care like his, required
Enough to drown a horse.
When thus forlorn, a merry horn
Struck up without the door, —
The mounted mob were all retum'd
The Epping Hunt was o'er !
THE EPPING HUNT.
577
678 THE EPPING HUNT.
And many a horse was taken out
Of saddle, and of shaft ;
And men, by dint of drink, became
The only " beasts of draii^hi:*
For now begun a harder run
On wine, and gin, and beer ;
And overtaken men discuss'd
liie ovei'taken deer.
How far he ran, and eke how fast,
And how at bay he stood,
Deerlike, resolved to sell his life
As dearly as he could: —
And how the hunters stood aloof
Kegardful of 'their lives.
And shunn'd a beast, wnose very horns
They knew could handle knives 1
How Huggins stood when he was rubb'd
By help and ostler kind,
And when they cleaned the clay before.
How " worse remain'd behind."
And one, how he had found a horse
Adrift— a goodly gray I
And kindly rode the nag, for fear
The nag should go astray ; —
Now, Huggins, when he heard the tale,
Jump'd up with sudden glee ;
" A goodly gray I why, then, I say
That gray belongs to me I
THE EPPING HUNT. 579
** Let me endorse again my horse,
Deliver'd safe and sound ;
And gladly, I will give the man
A bottle and a pound ! "
The wine was drunk, — the money paid,
Tho' not without remorse,
To pay another man so much,
For riding on his horse ; —
And let the chase again take place
For many a long, long year —
John Huggins will not ride again
To hunt the Epping Deer \
MORAL.
Thus Pleasure oft eludes our grasp.
Just when we think to grip her j
And hunting after Happiness,
We only hunt a slipper.
680
EriGRAM.
EPIGRAM
ON THE CHINESE TREATY
Our wars are ended — foreign battles cease,—
Great Britain owns an universal peace :
And Queen Victoria triumpks over aU;
Still ''Mistress of herself though China fall I *'
rONY-ATOWSKI.
THE
DREAM OF EUeENE AEAM,
Srte juaurtewt.
BY THOMAS HOOD, ESQ.
WITH DESIGNS BY W. HARVEY.
NEW EDITION
37
DBDIOATIOH.
To J. H. REYNOLDS, Esq.
Dear Reynolds,
Induced to this reprint by a series of Illustrations
from the ppncil of an Artist whose efenius you highly esti-
mate ; remembering some partiality you have expressed for
the Poem itself; — and, above all, that you stand nearest to
rne in a stricter form of the brotherhood which the Dream
is intended to enforce ; I feel that I cannot inscribe it more
appropriately or more willingly than to yourself. It will
be accepted I know, with the kind feeling which is mutual
l^etween you and
Yonvs ever truly,
THOMAS HOOD.
PREFACE.
The remarkable name of Eugene Aram, belonging to a man
of unusual talents and acquirements, is unhappily associated
with a deed of blood as extraorainary in its details, as any re-
corded in our calendar of crime. In the year 1745, being
then an Usher, and deeply engaged in the study of Chaldee,
Hebrew, Arabic, and the Celtic dialects, for the formation of
a Lexicon, he abruptly turned over a still darker page in
human knowledge, and the brow that learning might have
made illustrious, was stamped ignominious for ever with
the brand of Cain. To obtain a trifling property, he con-
certed with an accomplice, and with his own hand effected,
the violent death of one Daniel Clarke, a shoemaker of
Knaresborough, in Yorkshire. For fourteen years nearly
the secret slept with the victim in the earth of St. Robert's
Cave, and the manner of its discovery would appear a striking
example of the Divine Justice, even amongst those marvels
narrated in that curious old volume, alluded to in the Fortunes
of Nigel, under its quaint title of " God's Revenge Against
Murther."
The accidental digging up of a skeleton, and the unwary
and emphatic declaration of Aram's accomplice, that it could
not be that of Clarke, betraying a guilty knowledge of the
true bones, he was wrought to a confession of their deposit.
The learned homicide was seized and arraigned ; and a trial
of uncommon interest was wound up by a defence as memo-
534 PREFACE.
rable as the tragedy itself for eloquence and ingenuity ;
— too ingenious for innocence, and eloquent enough to do
credit even to that long premeditation which the interval be-
tween the deed and its discovery had afforded. That this
dreary period had not passed without paroxysms of remorse,
may be inferred from a fact of affecting interest. The late
Admiral Burney was a scholar, at the school at Lynn, in
Norfolk, where Aram was an Usher, subsequent to his crime.
The Admiral stated that Aram was beloved by the boys, and
that he used to discourse to them of Murder, not occasion-
ally, as I have written elsewhere, but constantly, and in
somewhat of the spirit ascribed to him in the Poem.
For the more imaginative part of the version I must refer
back to one of those unaccountable visions, which come upon
us like frightful monsters thrown up by storms from the
great black deeps of slumber. A lifeless body, in love and
relationship the nearest and dearest, was imposed upon my
back, with an overwhelming sense of obligation — not of
filial piety merely, but some awful responsibility, equally
vague and intense, and involving, as it seemed, inexpiable
sin, horrors unutterable, torments intolerable,— to bury my
dead, like Abraham, out of my sight. In vain I attempted,
again and again, to obey the mysterious mandate — by some
dreadful process the burthen was replaced with a more stu-
pendous weight of injunction, and an appalling conviction of
the impossibility of its fulfilment. My mental anguish was
indescribable ; — the mighty agonies of souls tortured on the
supernatural racks of sleep are not to be penned — and if in
sketching those that belong to blood-guiltiness I have been
at all successful, I owe it mainly to the uninvoked inspira-
tion of that terrible dream.
T. H.
THE
DEFENCE OF EUGENE ARAM.
For the convenience of those who cannot readily refer to the Biographia
Britannica, or the Newgate Calendar, the defence of Eugene Aram is ap-
pended. It was apparently delivered, like the more recent one of Thurtell,
as if extempore ; but was, no doubt, got as much by head, and certainly
more bv heart, than the set oration of the gravel-hearted Barnadine, of
Gill's Hill.
"My Lord,
" I know not whether it is of right, or through some
indulgence of your lordship, that I am allowed the liberty at this
bar, and at this time, to attempt a defence, incapable and un-
instructed as I am to speak ; since, while I see so many eyes
upon me, so numerous and awful a concourse, fixed with atten-
tion, and filled with I know not what expectancy, I labour not
with guilt, my lord, but with perplexity ; for, having never seen
a Court but this, being whoDy unacquainted with law, the cus-
toms of the bar, and all judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be
so little capable of speaking with propriety in this place, that it
exceeds my hope if I shall be able to speak at all.
*' I have heard, my lord, the indictment read, wherein I find
myself charged with the highest crime, with an enormity I am
altogether incapable of; a fact, to the commission of which
there goes far more insensibility of heart, more profligacy of
morals, than ever fell to my lot ; and nothing possibly could
have admitted a presumption of this nature but a depravity not
inferior to that imputed to me. However, as I stand indicted
at your lordship's bar, and have heard what is called evidence
adduced in support of such a charge, I very humbly solicit your
586 DEFENCE OP EUGENE ARAM.
lordship's patience, and beg the hearing of this respectable
audience, while I, single and unskilful, destitute of friends,
and unassisted by counsel, say something, perhaps like argu-
ment, in my defence. I shall consume but little of your lord-
ship's time ; what I have to say will be short ; and this brevity,
probably, will be the best part of it ; however, it is offered with
all possible regard and the greatest submission to your lordship's
consideration, and that of this honourable Court.
" First, my lord, the whole tenour of my conduct in life con-
tradicts every particular of the indictment ; yet had I never said
this, did not my present circumstances extort it from me, and seem
to make it necessary. Permit me here, my lord, to call upon
malignity itself, so long and cruelly busied in this prosecution,
to charge upon me any immorality, of which prejudice was not
the author. No, my lord, I concerted no schemes of fraud,
projected no violence, injured no man's person or property ! my
days were honestly laborious, my nights intensely studious;
and I humbly conceive my notice of this, especially at this time,
will not be thought impertinent or unseasonable, but, at least,
deserving some attention; because, my lord, that any person,
after a temperate use of life, a series of thinking and acting re-
gularly, and without one single deviation from sobriety, should
plunge into the very deptk of profligacy precipitately and at
once, is altogether improbable and unprecedented, and absolutely
inconsistent with the course of things. Mankind is never cor-
rupted at once ; villainy is always progressive, and declines from
right, step after step, till every regard of probity is lost, and
every sense of all moral obligation totally perishes.
" Again, my lord, a suspicion of this kind, which nothing
but malevolence could entertain, and ignorance propagate, is
violently opposed by my very situation at that time, with re-
spect to health ; for, but a little space before, I had been con-
fined to my bed, and suffered under a very long and severe
DEFENCE OF EUGENE ARAM. 587
disorder, and was not able, for half a year together, so much
as to walk. The distemper left me, indeed yet slowly, and in
part; but so macerated, so enfeebled, that I was reduced to
crutches; and, so far from being well about the time I am
charged with this fact, that I never, to this day, perfectly re-
covered. Could, then, a person in this condition take anything
into his head so unlikely, so extravagant ? I, past the vigour of
my age, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement to engage,
no ability to accomplish, no weapon wherewith to perpetrate
such a fact ; without interest, without power, without motive,
without means.
*• Besides, it must needs occur to every one that an action of
this atrocious nature is never heard of but when its springs are
laid open ; it appears that it was to support some indolence, or
supply some luxury ; to satisfy some avarice, or oblige some
malice ; to prevent some real or some imaginary want : yet I lay
not under the influence of any of these. Surely, my lord, I may,
^consistently with both truth and modesty, affirm thus much ; and
none who have any veracity, and knew me, will ever question this.
" In the second place, the disappearance of Clarke is suggested
as an argument of his being dead ; but the uncertainty of such
an inference from that, and the fallibility of all conclusions of
such a sort from such a circumstance, are too obvious and too
notorious to require instances ; yet, superseding many, permit
me to produce a very recent one, and that afforded by this castle.
*' In June, 1757, William Thompson^ for all the vigilance of
this place, in open daylight, and double-ironed, made his escape ;
and, notwithstanding an immediate inquiry set on foot, the
strictest search, and all advertisement, was never seen or heard
of since. If then Thompson got oft' unseen, through all these
difficulties, tow very easy was it for Clarke, when none of them
opposed him ? But what would be thought of a prosecution
commenced against any one seen last with Thompson ?
588 DEFENCE OF EUGENE ARAM.
" Permit me next, my lord, to observe a little upon the bones
which have been discovered. It is said (which, perhaps, is say-
ing very far), that these are the skeleton of a man. It is possible,
indeed*, it may ; but is there anv certain known criterion which
incontestably distinguishes the sex in human bones. Let it
be considered, my lord, whether the ascertaining of this point
ought not to precede any attempt to identify them.
" The place of their depositum, too, claims much more atten-
tion than is commonly bestowed upon it ; for, of all places in the
world, none could have mentioned any one wherein there was
greater certainty of finding human bones than a hermitage,
except he should point out a church-yard ; hermitages, in time
past, being not only places of religious retirement, but of burial
too : and it has scarce, or never, been heard of, but that every
cell now known contains, or contained, these relics of humanity ;
some mutilated, and some entire. I do not inform, but give me
leave to remind your lordship, that here sat soHtary Sanctity,
and here the hermit or the anchoress hoped that repose for their
bones, when dead, they here enjoyed when living.
" All the while, my lord, I am sensible this is known to your
lordship, and many in the Court, better than ta me ; but it
seems necessary to my case that others, who have not at all,
perhaps, adverted to things of this nature, and may have concern
in my trial, should be made acquainted with it. Suffer me
then, my lord, to produce a few of many evidences that these cells
were used as repositories of the dead, and to enumerate a few in
which human bones have been found, as it happened in this
question ; lest, to some, that accident might seem extraordinary,
and, consequently, occasion prejudice.
" 1. The bones, as was supposed, of the Saxon Saint,
Dubritius, were discovered buried in his cell at Guy's Cliff, near
Warwick, as appears from the authority of Sir William Dugdale.
*2. The bones, thought to be those of the anchoress Rosia,
DEFENCE OP EUGENE ARAM. 589
were but lately discovered in a cell at Koyston, entire, fair, and
undecayed, though they must have lain interred for several cen-
turies, as is proved by Dr. Stukely.
" 3. But my own country, nay, almost this neighbourhood,
supplies another instance ; for in January, 1747, were found,
by Mr. Stovin, accompanied by a reverend gentleman, the bones,
in part, of some recluse, in the cell at Lindholm, near Hatfield.
They were believed to be those of William of Lindholm, a hermit,
who had long made this cave his habitation.
"4. In February, 1744, part of Woburn Abbey being pulled
down, a large portion of a corpse appeared, even with the flesh
on, and which bore cutting with a knife ; though it is certain
this had lain above two hundred years, and how much longer is
doubtful; for this abbey was founded in 1145, and dissolved in
1538 or 1539. What would have been said, what believed, if
this had been an accident to the bones in question ?
'* Farther, my lord : — it is not yet out of living memory that
at a little distance from Knaresborough, in a field, part of the
manor of the worthy and patriot baronet who does that borough
the honour to represent it in parliament, were found, in digging
for gravel, not one human skeleton only, but five or six, deposited
side by side, with each an urn placed at his head, as your lord-
ship knows was usual in ancient interments.
"About the same time, and in another field, almost close to
this borough, was discovered also, in searching for gravel,
another human skeleton; but the piety of the same worthy
gentleman ordered both pits to be filled up again, commendably
unwilling to disturb the dead.
" Is the invention of these bones forgotten, then, or industriously
concealed, that the discovery of these in question may appear
more singular and extraordinary ? whereas, in fact, there is
nothing extraordinary in it. My lord, almcBt every place con-
ceals such remains. In fields, in hills, in highway sides, in
590 DEFENCE OF EUGENE AEAM.
commons, lie frequent and unsuspected bones ; and our present
allotments for rest for the departed are but of some centuries.
" Another particular seems not to claim a little of your lord-
ship's notice, and that of the gentlemen of the jury ; which is,
that perhaps no example occurs of more than one skeleton being
found in one cell : and in the cell in question was found but
one ; agreeable, in this, to the peculiarity of every other known
cell in Britain. Not the invention of one skeleton, but of two,
would have appeared suspicious and uncommon. But it seems
another skeleton has been discovered by some labourer, which
was full as confidently averred to be Clarke's as this. My lord,
must some of the living, if it promotes some interest, be made
answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed, and chance
exposed ? And might not a place where bones lay be mentioned
by a person by chance as well as found by a labourer by chance ?
Or is it more criminal accidentally to name where bones lie,
than accidentally to find where they lie?
" Here too is a human skull produced, which is fractured ; but
was this the cause, or was it the consequence, of death ? was it
owing to violence, or was it the effect of natural decay ? If it
was violence, was that violence before or after death ? My lord,
in May, 1733, the remains of William, lord archbishop of this
province, were taken up, by permission, in this cathedral, and the
bones of the skull were found broken ; yet certainly he died by no
violence offered to him alive that could occasion the fracture there.
" Let it be considered, my lord, that, upon the dissolution of
religious houses, and the commencement of the Eeformation, the
ravages of those times affected both the living and the dead. In
search after imaginary treasures, coffins were broken up, graves
and vaults dug open, monuments ransacked, and shrines
demolished ; and it ceased about the reign of Queen Elizabeth.
I entreat your lordship, suffer not the violence, the depredations,
aod the iniquities of those times, to be imputed to this.
DEFENCE OP EUGENE ARAM. 591
*' Moreover, what gentleman here is ignorant that Knarea-
borough had a castle, which, though now a ruin, was once con-
siderable both for its strength and garrison ? All know it was
vigorously besieged by the arms of the Parliament ; at which
siege, in sallies, conflicts, flights, pursuits, many fell in all the
places round it, and, where they fell, were buried ; for every place,
my lord, is burial earth in war ; and many, questionless, of these
rest yet unknown, whose bones futurity shall discover.
" I hope, with all imaginable submission, that what has been
said will not be thought impertinent to this indictment ; and
that it will be far from the wisdom, the learning, and the in-
tegrity of this place, to impute to tbe living what zeal in its fury
may have done — what nature may have taken ofi^, and piety
interred — or what war alone may have destroyed, alone
deposited.
" As to the circumstances that have been raked together, I
have nothing to observe but that all circumstances whatever are
precarious, and have been but too frequently found lamentably
fallible ; even the strongest have failed. They may rise to the
utmost degree of probability, yet they are but probability still.
Why need I name to your lordship the two Harrisons recorded
by Dr. Howell, who both sufi'ered upon circumstances because of
the sudden disappearance of their lodger, who was in credit, had
contracted debts, borrowed money, and went oft' unseen, and re-
turned a great many years after their execution ? Why name
the intricate affair of Jacques de Moulin, under King Charles II.,
related by a gentleman who was counsel for the crown ? and
v/hy the unhappy Coleman, who suffered innocently, though con-
victed upon positive evidence ; and whose children perished for
want, because the world uncharitably believed the father guilty ?
Why mention the perjury of Smith, incautiously admitted king's
evidence ; who, to screen himself, equally accused Faircloth and
Loveday of the murder of Dun; the first of whom, in 1749,
592 DEFENCE OF EUGENE ARAM.
was executed at Winchester ; and Loveday was about to suffer
at Reading, had not Smith been proved perjured, to the satisfac*
tion of the court, by the surgeon of Gosport hospital ?
" Now, my lord, having endeavoured to show that the whole
of this process is altogether repugnant to every part of my life ;
that it is inconsistent with my condition of health about that
time ; that no rational inference can be drawn that a person is
dead who suddenly disappears ; that hermitages were the con-
stant repositories of the bones of the recluse ; that the proofs of
this are well authenticated; that the revolutions ia religion, or
the fortune of war, have mangled or buried the dead ; the con-
clusion remains, perhaps, no less reasonably than impatiently
wished for. I, at last, after a year*s confinement, equal to either
fortune, put myself upon the candour, the justice, and the
humanity of your lordship : and upou yours, my countrymen,
gentlemen of the jury.*'
THE DEE AM OF EUGENE ARAM.
'TwAS in the prime of summer time,
An evening calm and cool,
And four-and-twenty happy boys
Came bounding out of school :
There were some that ran and some that leapt,
Like troutlets in a pool.
Away they sped with gamesome minds,
And souls untouched by sin ;
To a level mead they came, and there
They drave the wickets in :
Pleasantly shone the setting sun
Over the town of Lynn.
Like sportive deer they cours'd about,
And shouted as they ran, —
Turning to mirth all things of earth,
As only boyhood can ;
But the Usher sat remote from alL,
A melancholy man !
But the Usher sat remote from aii,
A melancholy man 1
594 DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.
His hat was off, his vest apart,
To catch heaven's blessed breeze ;
For a burning thought was in his brow,
And his bosom ill at ease :
So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read
The book between his knees ;
Leaf after leaf he tuj-n'd it o'er,
Nor ever glanc'd aside,
For the peace of his soul he read that book
In the golden eventide :
Much study had made him very lean.
And pale, and leaden-ey'd.
At last he shut the ponderous tome.
With a fast and fervent grasp
He strain'd the dusky covers close,
And fix'd the brazen hasp ;
"Oh, God ! could I so close my mmd.
And clasp it with a clasp ! "
Then leaping on his feet upright.
Some moody turns he took, —
Now up the mead, then down the mead,
And past a shady nook, —
And, lo ! he saw a little boy
That pored upon a book !
" My gentle lad, what is 't you read—
Eomance or fairy fable ?
Or is it some historic page.
Of kings and crowns unstable ? "
The young boy gave an upward glance,—
*' It is * The Death of Abel.' "
DEEAM OF EUGENE ARAM. 595
The Usher took six hasty strides,
As smit with sudden pain, —
Six hasty strides beyond the place,
Then slowly back again ;
And down he sat beside the lad,
And talk'd with him of Cain ;
And, long since then, of bloody men,
Whose deeds tradition saves ;
Gf lonely folk cut off unseen,
And hid in sudden graves ;
Of horrid stabs, in groves forlorn.
And murders done in caves ;
The young boy gave an upward glauce,
" It ia ' The Death of Abel.' "
And how the sprites of iiijur'd men
Shriek upward from the sod, —
Aye, how the ghostly hand will point
To show the burial clod ;
And unknown facts of guilty acta
Are seen in dreams from God i
596 DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM-
He told how murderers walk the earth
Beneath the curse of Cain, —
With crimson clouds before their eyes
And flames about their brain :
For blood has left upon their souls
Its everlasting stain !
"And well," quoth he, " I know, for truth,
Their pangs must be extreme, —
Woe, woe, unutterable woe, —
Who spill life's sacred stream !
For why ? Methought, last night, I wrought
A murder, in a dream !
" One that had never done me wrong —
A feeble man, and old ;
I led him to a lonely iield, —
The moon shone clear and cold :
Now here, said I, this man shall die,
And I will have his gold !
" Two sudden blows with a ragged stick,
And one with a heavy stone.
One hurried gash with a hasty knife, —
And then the deed was done :
There was nothing lying at my foot
But lifeless flesh and bone I
" Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone,
That could not do me ill ; -
And yet I fear'd him all the more,
For lying there so still :
There was a manhood in his look,
That murder could not kill I
DREAM OF EUGENE AEAM. 597
•• And, lo ! the universal air
8eem'd lit with ghastly flame ; —
Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes
Were looking down in blame :
I took the dead man by his hand,
And call'd upon his name !
Two sudden blows with a ragged stick.
And one with a heavy stone.
" Oh, God ! it made me quake to see
Such sense within the slain !
But when I touch'd the lifeless clay,
The blood gushed out amain !
Por every clot, a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain !
*' My head was like an ardent coal.
My heart as solid ice ;
My wretched, wretched soul, I knew,
Was at the Devil's price :
A dozen times I groan'd ; the dead
Had never groan'd but twice !
38
598
DREAM OF EUGEI^B ARAM.
" And now, from forth the frowning sky,
rrom the Heaven's topmost height,
I heard a voice — the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite : —
* Thou guilty man ! take up thy dead
And hide it from my sight I '
" I took the dreary body up.
And cast it in a stream, —
A sluggish water, black as ink,
The depth was so extreme :-^
My gentle Boy, remember this
Is nothing but a dream !
I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream.
" Down went the corse with a hollow plange
And vanish'd in the pool ;
Anon I cleans'd my bloody hands,
And wash'd my forehead cool,
And sat among the urchins young,
That evening in the school.
DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM. 699
" Oh, Heaven I to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim !
I could not share in childish prayer,
Nor join in Evening Hymn :
Like a Devil of the Pit I seem*d,
'Mid holy Cherubim !
** And peace went with them, one and all.
And each calm pillow spread ;
But guilt was my grim Chamberlain
That lighted me to bed ;
And drew my midnight curtains round,
With fingers bloody red 1
" All night I lay in agony.
In anguish dark and deep ;
My fever'd eyes I dared not close.
But stared aghast at Sleep :
Tor sin had rendered unto her
The keys of Hell to keep !
** All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime.
With one besetting horrid hint.
That rack'd me all the time ;
A mighty yearning, like the first
Pierce impulse unto crime !
" One stern tyrannic thought, that ma/je
All other thoughts its slave ;
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave, —
Still urging me to go and see
The dead man in his grave I
600 DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.
" Heavily I rose up as soon
As ligtt was in the sky.
And sought the black accursed pool
With a wild misgiving eye ;
And I saw the dead in the river bed,
Eor the faithless stream was dry 1
" Merrily rose the lark, and shook
The dew-drop from its wing ;
But I never mark'd its morning fiight,
I never heard it sing :
Por I was stooping once again
Under the horrid thing.
" With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up and ran ; —
There was no time to dig a grave
Before the day began :
In a lonesome wood with heaps of leaves,
I hid the murder'd man !
And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And ttiU the corse was bare.
DKEAM OF EUGENE ARAM. 601
" And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was other where ;
As soon as the mid-day task was done,
In secret I was there :
And a mighty wind had swept the leaves,
And still the corse was bare !
*' Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,
For I knew my secret then was one
That earth refused to keep :
Or land or sea, though he should be
Ten thousand fathoms deep.
The horrid thing pursues my soul,—
It stands before me now I
•' So wills the fierce avenging Sprite,
Till blood for blood atones !
Ay, though he's buried in a cave,
And trodden down with stones.
And years have rotted off his flesh,—
The world shall see his bones \
602 DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.
*' Ob, God ! that horrid, horrid dream
Besets me now awake 1
Again — again, with dizzy brain,
The human life I take ;
And my red right hand grows raging hot,
Like Cranmer's at the stake.
'* And still no peace for the restless clay.
Will wave or mould allow ;
The horrid thing pursues my soul, —
It stands before me now 1 "
The fearful boy looked up and saw
Huge drops upon his brow.
That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin eyelids kiss'd,
Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn,
Through the cold and heavy mist ;
And Eugene Aram walked between.
With gyves upon his wrist.
ME. WAKLEY AND THE POETS.
MB. WAKLEY AND THE POETS.
Hark thee, Thomas, do thine ears know the Bmg'mfr nf Blondel from th«
braying of an asa?— The Talisman.
It must often have puzzled editors to account for the deluge
of Poetry, so called, which of late years has poured into the
Balaam-boxes of the periodicals. Indeed, there is no Maga-
zine or Literary Journal but from time to time has had to
announce the utter impossibility of returning such contributions
to the authors — just such an impossibility as beset Mrs. Part-
ington when she attempted to send back the 'Atlantic.
For our own part, the phenomenon has been a standing
wonder; as month after month we found our library table
covered with fresh verse — rhyme enough to fill whole Magazines.
TFhere could it all come from ? What sort of laborious creatures
could thus keep spin, spin, spinning on, without profit, and
without encouragement, for not a hundredth — no, not a thou-
sandth part obtained insertion.
The mystery, however, is solved. The deluge of bad poetry
— the rush of rhyme is accounted for ; and Editors in future
will be able to attribute any extraordinary high-tide of sing-
song to its true source. Astounding as it may seem, consider-
ing his multifarious occupations as Member of Parliament,
Coroner, and Editor of a medical work, yet by his own con-
fession during the debate on the Copyright Bill, Mr. Wakley,
besides spouting, sitting on bodies, and Lancet-grinding, has
actually been composing poetry — not by the page or sheet, but
by the standard mile and the imperial bushel.
It would of course be impossible to trace all the effusions of
Bucn a very prolific versifier : but personally we are convinced
€04 ME. WAKLEY AND THE POETS.
that we have been favoured with at least a few peeks, and rod
poles or perches of the manufacture of tb"s new Thomas the
Bhymer. All the anonymous pieces were his of course, as well
as those signed T. or W., and we venture to attribute to the
same hand, on internal evidence, a few furlongs of poetry that
have been sent under other initials. But the mass had all one
common characteristic : a certain wooden style, strongly re-
minding us that the author represents Pinsbury Square, where,
as we all know, the Temple of the Muses was turned into an
Upholstery Warehouse.
And, now, do we envy the new Poet his extraordinary
facility ? Do we begrudge him his miraculous knack of rhym-
ing, his poetical bottom and long-winded ness ? Not a jot.
But we do resent the ungraciousness with which, after con-
fessing himself a Bard, he turned round on the Brotherhood,
and like a Malay running a-muck, made a rush at a venerable
Poet, whose age and character ought to have secured him from
such an onset. Could there be in the case any of that literary
jealousy so commonly attributed to the sons of song ?
" It is impossible," said Mr. Wakley, " to satisfy a disap-
pointed author." And having failed so egregiously in his own
poetical pursuits, we can imagine him to have been particularly
dissatisfied with those of his contemporaries who had obtained
name and fame, and money into the bargain. Accordingly,
sweeping together the best and brightest names in our liter-
ature, he called them all, and in particular the copyright peti-
tioners, *• a set of literary quacks." As to authors, what were
they in usefulness compared to Doctors, or even Apothecaries r
What was a Shakspeare, a Milton, a Scott, or a Wordsworth, to
any Ollapod who, when a farmer fell from a load of hay, and
fractured his skull, could raise up the depressed bone again
with an instrument called an elevator?
We thank thee, Jew, for teaching us that word-
ME. WAKLEY AND THE POETS-
605
An Elevator ! — why what is poetry but an elevator, not of a
paltry bit of bone, but of the Human Soul ? We concede, then,
to Mr. Wakley the full advantage of his surgical case — we
allow all the blessing of the poor agriculturist being enabled,
within five minutes, to sit up in bed and receive the caresses of
his wife and children : but we really must beg leave to remind
the Honourable Story-teller that whilst his surgeon was setting
to rights the broken skull of one farmer, our Authors were oper-
ating beneficially on the brains of Millions !
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9S8538
THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY