» m*. tiv/ 1^ ^ .'*my. . O. .^A •k-% '"ill.W. ' • ■ A COURT HALL. BURLESQUES. NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. JEAMES'S DIARY. ADVENTURES OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. REBECCA AND ROWENA. THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. COX'S DIARY. YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS. FITZBOODLE PAPERS. THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY. A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. THE FATAL BOOTS. LITTLE TRAVELS, BY WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY, iVITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR, AND RICHARD DOYLE. CHICAGO AND NEW YORK : BELFORD, CLARKE & COMPANY. PUBLXSHEBS. I TR*Wa PMINTINQ AN* BOOKIINOINQ COMPAfML NEW YORK. 1880 CONTENTS. NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS:— FAGB. George de Barnwell. By Sir E. L. B. L., Bart 7 Codlingsby. By D. Shrewsberry, Esq 19 Phil Fogarty, A Tale of the Fighting Onety-Oneth. By Harry Rollicker 31 Barbazure. By G. P. R. Jeames, Esq., etc 44 Lords and Liveries. By the Authoress of " Dukes and Ddjeuners," " Hearts and Diamonds," " Mar- chionesses and Milliners," etc., etc 54 is^ Crinoline. By Je-mes Pl-sh, Esq 63 ^ The Stars and Stripes. By the Author of " The Last !!^ of the Mulligans," <' Pilot," etc 73 A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL 80 THE DIARY OF C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ., WITH HIS LETTERS. A Lucky Speculator 85 The Diary 91 Jeames on Time Bargings 1 29 Jeames on the Gauge Question 132 Mr. Jeames Again I35 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. I. " Truth is strange, stranger than Fiction " 139 II. AUyghur and Laswaree 153 vi CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGB. III. A Peep into Spain. — Account of the Origin and Services of the Alimednuggar Irregulars 162 IV. The Indian Camp— The Sortie from the Fort 175 V. The Issue of my Interview with my Wife 183 VI. Famine in the Garrison 187 VII. The Escape ... 193 VIII. The Captive 196 IX. Surprise of Futtyghur 202 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. I. Sir Ludwig of Hombourg Ml II. The Godesbergers 215 III. The Festival 219 IV. The Flight 221 V. The Traitor's Doom 223 VI. The Confession 227 VII, The Sentence 230 VIII. The Childe of Godesberg 231 IX. The Lady of Windeck 239 X. The Battle of the Bowmen 245 XI. The Martyr of Love 250 XII. The Champion 256 XIII. The Marriage . . 261 REBECCA AND ROWENA: A ROMANCE UPON ROMANCE. I. The Overture — Commencement of the Business. ... . . 269 II. The Last Days of the Lion 280 III. St. George for England 287 IV. Ivanhoe Redivivus 294 V. Ivanhoe to the Rescue 300 VI. Ivanhoe the Widower 307 VI I. The End of the Performance 315 THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLU- TION. I 325 II. Henry V. and Napoleon III 329 III. The Advance of the Pretenders — Historical Review.. . 334 IV. The Battle of Rheims 338 V. The Battle of Tours 340 VI. The English under Jenkins 345 VI I. The Leaguer of Paris 349 VIII. The Battle of the Forts 352 IX. Louis XVII 353 CONTENTS. vil COX'S DIARY. PAGI. The Announcement 361 First Rout 364 A Day with the Surrey Hounds 368 The Finishing Touch 372 A New Drop-Scene at the Opera 375 Striking a Balance 379 Down at Beulah 383 A Tournament 387 Over-Boarded and Under-Lodged 390 Notice to Quit 394 Law Life Assurance 398 Family Bustle 401 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. CJ. YELLOWPLUSH. Miss Shum's Husband 407 The Amours of Mr. Deuceace 424 FoRiNG Parts 437 Mr. Deuceace at Paris 445 I. The Two Bundles of Hay 445 11. " Honor Thy Father " 45o III. Minewvring 456 IV. " Hitting the Nale on the Hedd " 462 V. The Griffin's Claws 465 VI. The Jewel 468 VII. The Consquinsies 474 VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo 478 IX. The Marriage 49^ X. The Honey-Moon 493 Mr. Yellowplush's Ajew 500 Skimmings from " The Diary of George IV.". ... 510 Epistles to the Literati 519 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. Fitz-Boodle's Confessions 537 Dorothea 558 Ottilia, I. The Album— The Mediterranean Heath 571 II. Ottilia in Particular 574 Fitz-Boodle's Professions. First Profession 5^6 Second Profession 59^ vJli CONTENTS. PAOl THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB 613 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. L Of the Loves of Mr. Perkins and Miss Gorgon, and of tlie two Great Factions in the Town of Oldborough. . 665 IL Shows how the Plot began to thicken in or about Bed- ford Row : 681 in. Behind the Scenes 693 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S 708 THE FATAL BOOTS. January.— The Birth of the Year 735 February. — Cutting Weather 738 March. — Showery 742 April. — Fooling 745 May. — Restoration Day 749 June.^Marrowbones and Cleavers 753 July. — Summary Proceedings 756 August. — Dogs have their Days 760 September. — Plucking a Goose ■ 763 October. — Mars and Venus in Opposition 767 November. — A General Post Delivery Tjo December. — " The Winter of our Discontent " 774 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. I. — From Richmond in Surrey to Brussels in Belgium. 781 1 1. — Ghent — Bruges 800 III.— Waterloo 810 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. GEORGE DE BARNWELL. By Sir E. L. B. L., Bart. Vol. I. In the Morning of Life the Truthful wooed the Beautiful, and their offspring was Love. Like his Divine parents, He is eternal. He has his Mother's ravishing smile ; his Father's steadfast eyes. He rises every day, fresh and glorious as the untired Sun-God. He is Eros, the ever young. Dark, dark were this world of ours had either Divinity left it — dark with- out the day-beams of the Latonian Charioteer, darker yet without the daedal Smile of the God of the Other Bow ! Dost know him, reader ? Old is he, Eros, the ever young. He and Time were chil- dren together. Chronos shall die, too ; but Love is imperish- able. Brightest of the Divinities, where hast thou not been sung ? Other worships pass away ; the idols for whom pyramids were raised lie in the desert crumbling and almost nameless ; the Olympians are fled, their fanes no longer rise among the quivering olive-groves of Ilissus, or crown the emerald-islets of the amethyst ^gean ! These are gone, but thou remainest. There is still a garland for thy temple, a heifer for thy stone. A heifer ? Ah, many a darker sacrifice. Other blood is shed at thy altars. Remorseless One, and the Poet Priest who minis- ters at thy Shrine draws his auguries from the bleeding hearts of menl g NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. While Love hath no end, Can the Bard ever cease singing? In Kingly and Heroic ages, 'twas of Kings and Heroes that the Poet spake. But in these, our times, the Artisan hath his voice as well as the Monarch. The people To-Day is King, and we chronicle his woes, as They of old did the sacrifice of the princely Iphigenia, or the fate of the crowned Agamemnon. Is Odysseus less august in his rags than in his purple? Fate, Passion, Mystery, the Victim, the Avenger, the Hate that harms, the Furies that tear, the Love that bleeds, are not these with us still ? are not these still the vi'eapons of the Artist ? the colors of his palette ? the chords of his lyre ? Listen ! I tell thee a tale— not of Kings— but of Men— not of Thrones, but of Love, and Grief, and Crime. Listen, and but once more. 'Tis for the last time (probably) these fingers shall sweep the strings. E. L. B. L. NOONDAY IN CHEPE. 'TwAS noonday in Chepe. High Tide in the mighty River City !— its banks wellnigh overflowing with the myriad-waved Stream of Man ! The toppling wains, bearing the produce of a thousand marts ; the gilded equipage of the Millionary ; the humbler, but yet larger vehicle from the green metropolitan suburbs (the Hanging Gardens of our Babylon), in which every traveller might, for a modest remuneration, take a republican seat ; the mercenary caroche, with its private freight ; the brisk curricle of the letter-carrier, robed in royal scarlet : these and a thousand others were laboring and pressing onward, and locked and bound and hustling together in the narrow channel of Chepe. The imprecations of the charioteers were terrible. From the noble's broidered hammer-cloth, or the driving-seat of the common coach, each driver assailed the other with floods of ribald satire. The pavid matron within the one vehicle (speeding to the Bank for her semestrial pittance) shrieked and trembled ; the angry Dives hastening to his office (to add another thousand to his heap), thrust his head over the blazoned panels, and displayed an eloquence of objurgation which his very Menials could not equal ; the dauntless street urchins, as they gayly threaded the Labyrinth of Life, enjoyed the per- plexities and quarrels of the scene, and exacerbated the already furious combatants by their poignant infantile satire. And the Philosopher, as he regarded the hot strife and struggle of these Candidates ia the race for Gold, thought with a sigh of the GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 9 Truthful and the Beautiful, and walked on, melancholy and serene. 'Twas noon in Chepe. The warerooms were thronged. The flaunting windows of the mercers attracted many a purchaser : the glittering panes behind which Birmingham had glazed its simulated silver, induced rustics to pause ; although only noon, the savory odors of the Cook Shops tempted the over hungry citizen to the bun of Bath, or to the fragrant potage that mocks the turtle's flavor — the turtle ! O dapibus siipremi grata testiido Juvis ! I am an Alderman when I think of thee ! Well : it was noon in Chepe. But were all battling for gain there ? Among the many bril- liant shops whose casements shone upon Chepe, there stood one a century back (about which period our tale opens) devoted to the sale of Colonial produce. A rudely carved image of a negro, with a fantastic plume and apron of variegated feathers, decorated the lintel. The East and West had sent their con- tributions to replenish the window. The poor slave had toiled, died perhaps, to produce yon pyramid of swarthy sugar marked " Only 6^-?'." — That catty box, on which was the epigraph " Strong Family Congo only y. gd." was from the country of Confutzee — that heap of dark produce bore the legend "TRY OUR REAL NUT "—'Twas Cocoa — and that nut the Cocoa-nut, whose milk has refreshed the traveller and perplexed the natural philosopher. The shop in question was, in a word, a Grocer's. In the midst of the shop and its gorgeous contents sat one who, to judge from his appearance (though 'twas a difficult task, as, in sooth, his back was turned), had just reached that happy period of life when the Boy is expanding into the Man. O Youth, Youth ! Happy and Beautiful ! O fresh and roseate dawn of life ; when the dew yet lies on the flowers, ere they have been scorched and withered by Passion's fiery Sun ! Im- mersed in thought or study, and indifferent to the din around him, sat the boy. A careless guardian was he of the treasures confided to him. The crowd passed in Chepe ; he never marked it. The sun shone on Chepe ; he only asked that it should illumine the page he read. The knave might filch his treasures ; he was heedless of the knave. The customer might enter ; but his book was all in all to him. And indeed a customer was there ; a little hand was tapping on the counter with a pretty impatience ; a pair of arch eyes were gazing at the boy, admiring, perhaps, his manly propor tions through the homely and tightened garments he wore. lo NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. " Ahem ! sir ! I say, young man ! " the customer exclaimed " Ton a' apavieibomenos prosephe," read on the student, his voice choked with emotion. " What language ! " he said ; " how rich, how noble, how sonorous ! prosephe podas " The customer burst out into a fit of laughter so shrill and cheery, that the young Student could not but turn round, and blushing, for the first time remarked her. " A pretty grocer's boy you are," she cried, " with your applepiebomenos and your French and lingo. Am I to be kept waiting for hever ? " " Pardon, fair Maiden," said he, with a high-bred courtesy ; " 'twas not French I read, 'twas the Godlike language of the blind old bard. In what can I be serviceable to ye, lady ? " and to spring from his desk, to smooth his apron, to stand be- fore her the obedient Shop Boy, the Poet no more, was the work of a moment. ** I might have prigged this box of figs," the damsel said good-naturedly, " and you'd never have turned round." *' They came from the country of Hector," the boy said. " Would you have currants, lady ? These once bloomed in the island gardens of the blue ^gean. They are uncommon fine ones, and the figure is low ; they're fourpence-halfpenny a pound. Would ye mayhap make trial of our teas ? We do not adver- tise, as some folks do ; but sell as low as any other house." " You're precious young to have all these good things," the girl exclaimed, not unwilling, seemingly, to prolong the conversa- tion. " If I was you, and stood behind the counter, I should be eating figs the whole day long." " Time was," answered the lad, " and not long gince I thought so too. I thought I never should be tired of figs. But my old uncle bade me take my fill, and now in sooth I am aweary of them." " I think you gentlemen are always so," the coquette said. " Nay, say not so, fair stranger ! " the youth replied, his face kindling as he spoke, and his eagle eyes flashing fire. " Figs pall ; but oh ! the Beautiful never does. Figs rot ; but oh ! the Truthful is eternal. I was born, lady, to grapple with the Lofty and the Ideal. My soul yearns for the Visionary. I stand behind the counter, it is true ; but I ponder here upon the deeds of heroes, and muse over the thoughts of sages. What is grocery for one who has ambition ? What sweetness hath Muscovado to him who hath tasted of Poesy ? The Ideal, lady, I often think, is the true Real, and the Actual but a visionary hallucination. But pardon me; with what may I serve thee ? " GEORGE DE BARNWELL. H " I came only for sixpenn'orth of tea-dust," the girl said, with a faltering voice ; "but oh, I should like to hear you speak on forever ! " Only for sixpenn'orth of tea-dust ? Girl, thou earnest for other things ! Thou lovedst his voice ? Siren ! what was the witchery of thine own ? He deftly made up the packet, and placed it in the little hand. She paid for her small purchase, and with a farewell glance of her lustrous eyes, she left him. She passed slowly through the portal, and in a moment^more was lost in the crowd. It was noon in Chepe. And George de Barnwell was alone. Vol. II. We have selected the following episodical chapter in prefer- ence to anything relating to the mere story of George Barnwell, with which most readers are familiar. Up to this passage (extracted from the beginning of Vol. ri.) the tale is briefly thus : The rogue of a Millwood has come back every day to the grocer's shop in Chepe, wanting some sugar, or some nutmeg, or some figs, half a dozen times in the week. She and George de Barnwell have vowed to each other an eternal attachment. This flame acts violently upon George. His bosom swells with ambition. His genius breaks out prodigiously. He talks about the Good, the Beautiful, the Ideal, &c., in and out of all season, and is virtuous and eloquent almost beyond belief — in fact like Devereux, or P. Clifford, or E. Aram, Esquires. Inspired by Millwood and love, George robs the till, and mingles in the world which he is destined to ornament. He outdoes all the dandies, all the wits, all the scholars, and all the voluptuaries of the age — an indefinite period of time between Queen Anne and George II. — dines with Curll at St. John's Gate, pinks Colonel Charteris in a duel behind Montague House, is initiated into the intrigues of the Chevalier St. George, whom he entertains at his sumptuous pavilion at Hamp- stead, and likewise in disguise at the shop in Cheapside. His uncle, the owner of the shop, a surly curmudgeon with very little taste for the True and BeautifW, has retired from 1 2 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. business to the pastoral village in Cambridgeshire from which the noble Barnwells came. George's cousin Annabel is, of course, consumed with a secret passion for him. Some trifling inaccuracies may be remarked in the ensuing brilliant little chapter ; but it must be remembered that the au- thor wished to present an age at a glance : and the dialogue is quite as fine and correct as that in the " Last of the Barons," or in " Eugene Aram," or other works of our author, in which Sentiment and History, or the True and Beautiful, are united. Chapter XXIV. button's in pall mall. Those who frequent the dismal and enormous Mansions of Silence which society has raised to Ennui in that Omphalos of town, Pall Mall, and which, because they knock you down with their dulness, are called Clubs no doubt ; those who yawn from a bay-window in St. James's Street, at a half-score of other dandies gaping from another bay-window over the way ; those who consult a dreary evening paper for news, or satisfy them- selves with the jokes of the miserable Punch by way of wit ; the men about town of the present day, in a word, can have but little idea of London some six or eightscore years back. Thou pudding-sided old dandy of St. James's Street, with thy lackered boots, thy dyed whiskers, and thy suffocating waist- band, what art thou to thy brilliant predecessor in the same quarter ? The Brougham from which thou descendest at the portal of the " Carlton " or the " Traveller's," is like every- body else's ; thy black coat has no more plaits, nor buttons, nor fancy in it than thy neighbor's ; thy hat was made on the very block on which Lord Addlepate's was cast, who has just entered the Club before thee. You and he yawn together out of the same omnibus-box every night ; you fancy yourselves men of pleasure ; you fancy yourselves men of fashion ; you fancy yourselves men of taste ; in fancy, in taste, in opinion, in philosophy, the newspaper legislates for you ; it is there you get your jokes and your thoughts, and your facts and your wis- dom — poor Pall Mall dullards. Stupid slaves of the press, on that ground which you at present occupy, there were men of wit and pleasure and fashion, some five-and-twenty lustres ago. We are at Button's — the well-known sign of the " Turk's GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 13 Head." The crowd of periwigged heads at the windows — the swearing chairmen round the steps (the blazoned and coro- -nailed panels of whose vehicles denote the lofty rank of their owners), — the throng of embroidered beaux entering or depart- ing, and rendering the air fragrant with the odors of pulvillio and pomander, proclaim the celebrated resort of London's Wit and Fashion. It is the corner of Regent Street. Carlton House has not yet been taken down. A stately gentleman in crimson velvet and gold is sipping chocolate at one of the tables, in earnest converse with a friend whose suit is likewise embroidered, but stained by time, or wine mayhap, or wear. A little deformed gentleman in iron- gray is reading the Morning Chronicle newspaper by the fire, while a divine, with a broad brogue and a shovel hat and cas- sock, is talking freely with a gentleman, whose star and ribbon, as well as the unmistakable beauty of his Phidian counte- nance, proclaims him to be a member of Britain's aristocracy. Two ragged youths, the one tall, gaunt, clumsy and scrofu- lous, the other with a wild, careless, beautiful look, evidently indicating Race, are gazing in at the window, not merely at the crowd in the celebrated Club, but at Timothy the waiter, who is removing a plate of that exquisite dish, the muffin (then newly invented), at tire desire of some of the revellers within, " I would, Sam," said the wild youth to his companion, " that I had some of my mother Macclesfield's gold, to enable us to eat of those cates and mingle with yon springalds and beaux." " To vaunt a knowledge of the stoical philosophy," said the youth addressed as Sam, " might elicit a smile of incredulity upon the cheek of the parasite of pleasure ; but there are moments in life when History fortifies endurance : and past study renders present deprivation more bearable. If our pe- cuniary resources be exiguous, let our resolution, Dick, supply the deficiencies of Fortune. The muffin we desire to-day would little benefit us to-morrow. Poor and hungry as we are, are we less happy, Dick, than yon listless voluptuary who banquets on the food which you covet 1 " And the two lads turned away up Waterloo Place, and past the " Parthenon " Club-house, and disappeared to take a meal of cow-heel at a neighboring cook's shop. Their names were Samuel Johnson and Richard Savage. Meanwhile the conversation at Button's was fast and bril- liant. '' By Wood's thirteens, and the divvle go wid 'em," cried the Church dignitary in the cassock, " is it in blue and J 4 NO VELS B y EMINENT HANDS. goold ye are this morning, Sir Richard, when you ought to be in seebles ? " '' Who's dead, Dean ? " said the nobleman, the dean's com- panion. *' Faix, mee Lard Bolingbroke, as sure as mee name's Jona- than Swift — and I'm not so sure of that neither, for who knows his father's name ? — there's been a mighty cruel murther com- mitted entirely. A child of Dick Steele's has been barbarously slain, dthrawn, and quartheredj and it's Joe Addison yondther has done it. Ye should have killed one of your own, Joe, ye thafe of the world." " I ! " said the amazed and Right Honorable Joseph Ad- dison ; " I kill Dick's child ! I was godfather to the last." " And promised a cup and never sent it," Dick ejaculated. Joseph looked grave. "The child I mean is Sir Roger de Coverley, Knight and Baronet. What made ye kill him, ye savage Mohock ? The whole town is in tears about the good knight ; all the ladies at Church this afternoon were in mourning ; all the booksellers are wild ; and Lintot says not a third of the copies of the Spectator are sold since the death of the brave old gentleman." And the Dean of St. Patrick's pulled out the Spectator newspaper, con- taining the well-known passage regarding Sir Roger's death. *' I bought it but now in ' Wellington Street,' " he said ; " the newsboys were howling all down the Strand." " What a miracle is Genius — Genius, the Divine and Beauti- ful," said a gentleman leaning against the same fireplace with the deformed cavalier in iron-gray, and addressing that indi- vidual, who was in fact Mr. Alexander Pope. " What a mar- vellous gift is this, and royal privilege of Art ! To make tbe Ideal more credible than the Actual : to enchain our hearts, to command our hopes, our regrets, our tears, for a mere brain- born Emanation : to invest with life the Incorporeal, and to glamor the cloudy into substance, — these are the lofty privi- leges of the Poet, if I have read poesy aright ; and I am as familiar with the sounds that rang from Homer's lyre, as with the strains which celebrate the loss of Belinda's lovely locks " — (Mr. Pope blushed and bowed, highly delighted) — " these, I say, sir, are the privileges of the Poet — the Poietes — the Maker — he moves the world, and asks no lever ; if he cannot charm death into life, as Orpheus feigned to do, he can create Beauty out of Nought, and defy Death by rendering Thought Eternal. Ho ! Jemmy, another flask of Nantz." And the boy — for he who addressed the most brilliant com* GEORGE DE BARNWELL, IS pany of wits in Europe was little more — emptied the contents of the brandy-flask into a silver flagon, and quaffed it gayly to the health of the company assembled. 'Twas the third he had taken during the sitting. Presently, and with a graceful salute to the Society, he quitted the coffee-house, and was seen can- tering on a magnificent Arab past the National Gallery. " Who is yon spark in blue and silver ? He beats Joe Ad- dison himself, in drinking, and pious Joe is the greatest toper in the three kingdoms," Dick Steele said, good-naturedly. " His papers in the Spectator beat thy best, Dick, thou slug- gard," the Right Honorable Mr. Addison exclaimed. " He is the author of that famous No. 996, for which you have all been giving me the credit." "The rascal foiled me at capping verses," Dean Swift said, " and won a tenpenny piece of me, plague take him ! " " He has suggested an emendation in my ' Homer,' which proves him a delicate scholar," Mr. Pope exclaimed. " He knows more of the French king than any man I have met with ; and we must have an eye upon him," said Lord Bolingbroke, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and beckoning a suspicious-looking person who was drinking at a side-table, whispered to him something. Meantime who was he .? where was he, this youth who had struck all the wits of London with admiration ? His galloping charger had returned to the City ; his splendid court-suit was doffed for the citizen's gaberdine and grocer's humble apron. George de Barnwell was in Chepe — in Chepe, at the feet of Martha Millwood. Vol III. THE CONDEMNED CELL. " Quid me molUhus impUcas lacertis, my Ellinor ? Nay," George added, a faint smile illumining his wan but noble fea- tures, " why speak to thee in the accents of the Roman poel; which thou comprehendest not ? Bright One, there be other things in Life, in Nature, in this Inscrutable Labyrinth, this Heart on which thou leanest, which are equally unintelligible to thee ! Yes, my pretty one, what is the Unintelligible but the Ideal ? what is the Ideal but the Beautiful ? what the Beau- tiful but the Eternal ? And the Spirit of Man that would com* ,6 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. niune with these is like Him who wanders by the thijm polu* phloisboio thalasses, and shrinks awe-struck before that Azure Mystery." Emily's eyes filled with fresh-gushing dew. "Speak on, speak ever thus, my George," she exclaimed. Barnwell's chains rattled as the confiding girl clung to him. Even Snog- gin, the Turnkey appointed to sit with the Prisoner, was af- fected by his noble and appropriate language, and also burst into tears. " You weep, my Snoggin," the Boy said ; " and why ? Hath Life been so charming to me that I should wish to retain it ? Hath Pleasure no after-Weariness ? Ambition no Deception ; Wealth no Care ; and Glory no Mockery ? Psha ! 1 am sick of Success, palled of Pleasure, weary of Wine ! and Wit, and — nay, start not, my Adelaide — and Woman. I fling away all these things as the Toys of Boyhood. Life is the Soul's Nursery. I am a Man, and pine for the Illimitable ! Mark you me ! Has the Morrow any terrors for me, think ye "> Did Socrates falter at his poison ? Did Seneca blench in his bath } Did Crutus shirk the sword when his great stake was lost ? Did even weak Cleopatra shrink from the Serpent's fatal nip ? And why should I ? My great Hazard hath been played, and I pay my forfeit. Lie sheathed in my heart, thou flashing Blade I Welcome to my Bosom, thou faithful Serpent ; I hug thee, peace-bearing Image of the Eternal ! Ha, the hemlock cup ! Fill high, boy, for my soul is thirsty for the Infinite ! Get ready the bath, friends ; prepare me for the feast To-morrow — bathe my limbs in odors, and put ointment in my hair." " Has for a bath," Snoggin interposed, " they're not to be 'ad in this ward of the prison ; but I dussay Hemmy will git you a little hoil for your 'air." The Prisoned One laughed loud and merrily. " My guar- dian understands me not, pretty one — and thou ? what sayest thou ? From those dear lips methinks — phira snnt oscula quam sentent'ue — I kiss away thy tears, dove ! — they will flow apace when I am gone, then they will dry, and presently these fair eyes will shine on another, as they have beamed on poor George Barnwell. Yet wilt thou not all forget him, sweet one. He was an honest fellow, and had a kindly heart for all the world said—" " That, that he had," cried the jailer and the girl in voices gurgling with emotion. And you who read ! you unconvicted Con\'ict — you murderer, though haply you have slain no one—* GEORGE DE BARNWELL. you Felon in posse \i not in esse — deal gently with one who has used the Opportunity that has failed thee — and believe that the Truthful and the Beautiful bloom sometimes in the dock and the convict's tawny Gaberdine ! * * * # * In the matter for which he suffered, George could never be brought to acknowledge that he was at all in the wrong. " It may be an error of judgment," he said to the Venerable Chaplain of the jail, " but it is no crime. Were it Crime, I should feel Remorse. Where there is no remorse. Crime cannot exist. I am not sorry : therefore, I am innocent. Is the proposition a fair one ? " The excellent Doctor admitted that it was not to be con tested. jg NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. " And wherefore, sir, should I have sorrow," the Boy re« sumed, " for ridding the world of a sordid worm j * of a man whose very soul was dross, and who never had a feeling for the Truthful and the Beautiful ? When I stood before my uncle in the moonlight, in the gardens of the ancestral halls of the De Barnwells, I felt that it was the Nemesis come to overthrow him. * Dog,' I said to the trembling slave, ' tell me where thy Gold is. Thou hast no use for it. I can spend it in relieving the Poverty on which thou tramplest ; in aiding Science, which thou knowest not ; in up-lifting Art, to which thou art blind. Give Gold, and thou art free.' But he spake not, and I slew him." " I would not have this doctrine vulgarly promulgated," said the admirable chaplain, "for its general practice might chance to do harm. Thou, my son, the Refined, the Gentle, the Loving and Beloved, the Poet and Sage, urged by what I cannot but think a grievous error, hast appeared as Avenger. Think what would be the world's condition, were men without any Yearning after the Ideal to attempt to reorganize Society, to redistribute Property, to avenge Wrong." " A rabble of pygmies scaling Heaven," said the noble though misguided young Prisoner. " Prometheus was a Giant, and he fell." " Yes, indeed, my brave youth ! " the benevolent Dr. Fuzwig exclaimed, clasping the Prisoner's marble and manacled hand ; " and the Tragedy of To-morrow will teach the World that Homicide is not to be permitted even to the most amiable Genius, and that the lover of the Ideal and the Beautiful, as thou art, my son, must respect the Real likewise." " Look ! here is supper ! " cried Barnwell gayly. " This is the Real, Doctor ; let us respect it and fall to." He partook of the meal as joyously as if it had been one of his early festals ; but the worthy chaplain could scarcely eat it for tears. • This is a gross plagiarism ; the above sentiment is expressed much more eloquently n the ingenious romance of Eugene Aram : — "The burning desires I have known — the resplendent visions 1 have nursed — the sublime aspirings that have lifted nie so often from sense and clay: these tell me that whether for good or ill I am the thing of an immortality, and the creature of a God. » » « * i have destroyed a man noxious to the world with the wealth by which he afflicted society, I have been the means of blessing many." CODLINGSBY. By D. Shrewsbkrry, Esq. " The whole world is bound by one chain. In every city in the globe there is one quarter that certain travellers know and recognize from its likeness to its brother district in all other places where are congregated the habitations of men. In Tehran, or Pekin, or Stamboul, or New York, or Timbuctoo, or London, there is a certain district where a certain man is not a stranger. Where the idols are fed with incense by the streams of Ching-wang-foo ; where the minarets soar sparkling above the cypresses, their reflections quivering in the lucid waters of the Golden Horn ; where the yellow Tiber flows under broken bridges and over imperial glories ; where the huts are squatted by the Niger, under the palm-trees ; where the North- ern Babel lies, with its warehouses, and its bridges, its graceful factory-chimneys, and its clumsy fanes — hidden in fog and smoke by the dirtiest river in the world — in all the cities of mankind there is One Home whither men of one family may resort. Over the entire world spreads a vast brotherhood, suffering, silent, scattered, sympathizing, waiting — an immense Free-Masonry. Once this world-spread band was an Arabian clan — a little nation alone and outlying amongst the mighty monarchies of ancient time, the Megatheria of history. The sails of their rare ships might be seen in the Egyptian waters ; the camels of their caravans might thread the sands of Baalbec, or wind through the date-groves of Damascus ; their flag was raised, not ingloriously, in many wars, against mighty odds ; but 'twas a small people, and on one dark night the Lion of Judah went down before Vespasian's Eagles, and in flame, and death, and struggle, Jerusalem agonized and died. * * * Yes, 2 o NO VELS B Y EMINENT HA NDS. the Jewish city is lost to Jewish men ; but have they not taken the world in exchange ? " Mused thus Godfrey de Bouillon, Marquis of Codlingsby, as he debouched from Wych Street into the Strand, He had been to take a box for Armida at Madame Vestris's theatre. That little Armida was foUe of Madame Vestris's theatre ; and her little brougham, and her little self, and her enormous eyes, and her prodigious opera-glass, and her miraculous bouquet, which cost Lord Codlingsby twenty guineas every evening at Nathan's in Covent Garden (the children of the gardeners of Sharon have still no rival for flowers), might be seen, three nights in the week at least, in the narrow, charming, comfort- able little theatre. Godfrey had the box. He was strolling, listlessly, eastward ; and the above thoughts passed through the young noble's mind as he came in sight of Holywell Street. The occupants of the London Ghetto sat at their porches basking in the evening sunshine. Children were playing on the steps. Fathers were smoking at the lintel. Smiling faces looked out from the various and darkling draperies with which the warehouses were hung. Ringlets glossy, and curly, and jetty — eyes black as night — midsummer night — when it lightens ; haughty noses bending like beaks of eagles — eager quivering nostrils — lips curved like the bow of Love — every man or maiden, every babe or matron in that English Jewry bore in his countenance one or more of these characteristics of his peerless Arab race. " How beautiful they are ! " mused Codlingsby, as he sur- veyed these placid groups calmly taking their pleasure in the sunset. " D'you vant to look at a nishe coat ? " a voice said, which made him start ; and then some one behind him began handling a masterpiece of Stultz's with a familiarity which would have made the baron tremble. " Rafael Mendoza ! " exclaimed Godfrey. "The same. Lord Codlingsby," the individual so apos- trophized replied. " I told you we should meet again where you would little expect me. Will it please you to enter ? this is Friday, and we close at sunset. It rejoices my heart to welcome you home." So saying Rafael laid his hand on his breast, and bowed, an oriental reverence. All traces of the accent with which he first addressed Lord Codlingsby had vanished : it was disguise ; half the Hebrew's life is a disguise. He shields himself in craft, since the Norman boors persecuted him. "THIS YOUR UOML, RAFAEL? CODLINGSBY. 21 They passed under an awning of old clothes, tawdry fripperies, greasy spangles, and battered masks, into a shop as black and hideous as the entrance was foul. " This your home, Rafael ? " said Lord Codlingsby. " Why not ? " Rafael answered. " I am tired of Schloss Schinkenstein : the Rhine bores me after a while. It is too hot for Florence ; besides they have not completed the picture- gallery, and my place smells of putty. You wouldn't have a man, moti cher, bury himself in his chateau in Normandy, out of the hunting season ? The Rugantino Palace stupefies me. Those Titians are so gloomy, I shall have my Hobbimas and Tenierses, I think, from my house at the Hague hung over them." " How many castles, palaces, houses, warehouses, shops, have you, Rafael .? " Lord Codlingsby asked, laughing. "This is one," Rafael answered. "Come in." IL The noise in the old town was terrific ; Great Tom was booming sullenly over the uproar ; the bell of Saint Mary's was clanging with alarm ; St. Giles's tocsin chimed furiously ; howls, curses, flights of brickbats, stones shivering windows, groans of wounded men, cries of frightened females, cheers of either contending party as it charged the enemy from Carfax to Trumpington Street, proclaimed that the battle was at its height. In Berlin they would have said it was a revolution, and the cuirassiers would have been charging, sabre in hand, amidst that infuriate mob. In France they would have brought down artillery, and played on it with twenty-four pounders. In Cambridge nobody heeded the disturbance — it was a Town and Gown row. The row rose at a boat-race. The Town boat (manned by eight stout Bargees, with the redoubted Rullock for stroke) had bumped the Brazenose light oar, usually at the head of the river. High words arose regarding the dispute. After return- ing from Granchester, when the boats pulled back to Christ- church meadows, the disturbance between the Townsmen and the University youths — their invariable opponents — grew louder and more violent, until it broke out in open battle. Sparring and skirmishing took place along the pleasant fields that lead 22 NO VELS B r EMINENT HANDS. from the University gate down to the broad and shining waters of the Cam, and under the walls of Balliol and Sidney Sussex. The Duke of Bellamont (then a dashing young sizar at Exeter) had a couple of rounds with Billy Butt, the bow-oar of the Bargee boat. Vavasour of Brazenose was engaged with a powerful butcher, a well-known champion of the Town party, when, the great University bells ringing to dinner, truce was called between the combatants, and they retired to their several colleges for refection. During the boat-race, a gentleman pulling in a canoe, and smoking a narghilly, had attracted no ordinary attention. He rowed about a hundred yards ahead of the boats in the race, so that he could have a good view of that curious pastime. If the eight-oars neared him, with a few rapid strokes of his flash- ing paddles his boat shot a furlong ahead ; then he would wait, surveying the race, and sending up volumes of odor from his cool narghilly. " Who is he ? " asked the crowds who panted along the shore, encouraging, according to Cambridge wont, the efforts of the oarsmen in the race. Town and Gown alike asked who it was, who, with an ease so provoking, in a barque so singular, with a form seemingly so slight, but a skill so prodigious, beat their best men. No answer could be given to the query, save that a gentleman in a dark travelling-chariot, preceded by six fourgons and a courier, had arrived the day before at the " Hoop Inn," opposite Brazenose, and that the stranger of the canoe seemed to be the individual in question. No wonder the boat, that all admired so, could compete with any that ever was wrought by Cambridge artificer or Putney workman. That boat — slim, shining, and shooting through the water like a pike after a small fish — was a caique from Tophana ; it had distanced the Sultan's oarsmen and the best crews of the Captain Pasha in the Bosphorus ; it was the workmanship of Togrul-Beg, Caikjee Bashee of his Highness. The Bashee had refused fifty thousand tomauns from Count Boutenieff, the Russian Ambassador, for that little marvel. When his head was taken off, the Father of Believers presented the boat to Rafael Mendoza. It was Rafael Mendoza that saved the Turkish monarchy after the battle of Nezeeb. By sending three millions of piastres to the Seraskier ; by bribing Colonel de St, Cornichon, the French envoy in the camp of the victorious Ibrahim, the march of the Egyptian army was stopped — the menaced empire of the Ottomans was saved from ruin; the Marchioness of CODLINGSBY. 23 Stokepogis, our ambassador's lady, appeared in a suit of dia- monds which outblazed even the Romanoff jewels, and Rafael Mendoza obtained the little caique. He never travelled with- out it. It was scarcely heavier than an arm-chair. Baroni, the courier, had carried it down to the Cam that morning, and Rafael had seen the singular sport which we have mentioned. The dinner over, the young men rushed from their colleges, flushed, full-fed, and eager for battle. If the Gown was angry, the Town, too, was on the alert. From Iffly and Barnwell, from factory and mill, from wharf and warehouse, the Town poured out to meet the enemy, and their battle was soon gen- eral. From the Addenbrook's hospital to the Blenheim turn- pike, all Cambridge was in an uproar — the college gates closed — the shops barricaded — the shop-boys away in support of their brother townsmen — the battle raged, and the Gown had the worst of the fight. A luncheon of many courses had been provided for Rafael Mendoza at his inn ; but he smiled at the clumsy efforts of the university cooks to entertain him, and a couple of dates and a glass of water formed his meal. In vain the discomfited land- lord pressed him to partake of the slighted banquet. " A breakfast ! psha ! " said he. " My good man, I have nineteen cooks, at salaries rising from four hundred a year. I can have a dinner at any hour ; but a Town and Gown row " (a brickbat here flying through the window crashed the caraffe of water in Mendoza's hand) — " a Town and Gown row is a novelty to me. The Town has the best of it, clearly, though : the men out- number the lads. Ha, a good blow ! How that tall townsman went down before yonder slim young fellow in the scarlet trencher cap." " That is the Lord Codlingsby," the landlord said. " A light weight, but a pretty fighter," Mendoza remarked. " Well hit with your left, Lord Codlingsby ; well parried, Lord Codlingsby ; claret drawn, by Jupiter ! " " Ours is werry fine," the landlord said. "Will your High- ness have Chateau Margaux or Lafitte ? " " He never can be going to match himself against that bargeman ! " Rafael exclaimed, as an enormous boatman — no other than Rullock — indeed, the most famous bruiser of Cam- bridge, and before whose fists the Gownsmen went down like ninepins — fought his way up to the spot where, with admirable spirit and resolution. Lord Codlingsby and one or two of his friends were making head against a number of the Town. The young noble faced the huge champion with the gal* 24 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. lantry of his race, but was no match for the enemy's strength and weight and sinew, and went down at every round. The brutal fellow had no mercy on the lad. His savage treatment chafed Mendoza as he viewed the unequal combat from the inn-window. " Hold your hand ! " he cried to this Goliath ; " don't you see he's but a boy ? " " Down he goes again ! " the bargeman cried, not heeding the interruption. " Down he goes again : I likes wapping a lord ! " " Coward ! " shouted Mendoza ; and to fling open the win- dow amidst a shower of brickbats, to vault over the balcony, to slide down one of the pillars to the ground, was an instant's work. At the next he stood before the enormous bargeman. ****** After the coroner's inquest, Mendoza gave ten thousand pounds to each of the bargeman's ten children, and it was thus his first acquaintance was formed with Lord Codlingsby. But we are lingering on the threshold of the house in Holywell Street. Let us go iru III. Godfrey and Rafael passed from the street into the outer shop of the old mansion in Holywell Street. It was a mas- querade warehouse to all appearance. A dark-eyed damsel of the nation was standing at the dark and grimy counter, strewed with old feathers, old yellow boots, old stage mantles, painted masks, blind and yet gazing at you with a look of sad death- like intelligence from the vacancy behind their sockets. A medical student was trying one of the doublets of orange- tawney and silver, slashed with dirty light-blue. He was going to a masquerade that night. He thought Polly Pattens would admire him in the dress — Polly Pattens, the fairest of maids-of-all-work — the Borough Venus, adored by half the youth of Guy's. " You look like a prince in it, Mr. Lint," pretty Rachel said, coaxing him with her beady black eyes. " It is the cheese," replied Mr. Lint; "it ain't the dress that don't suit, my rose of Sharon ; it's the figure. Hullo, Rafael, is that you, my lad of sealing-wax ? Come and intercede for CODLINGSBY. 25 me with this wild gazelle ; she says I can't have it under fif- teen bob for the night. And it's too much : cuss me if it's not too much, unless you'll take my little bill at two months, Ra- fael." "There's a sweet' pretty brigand's dress you may have for half de monish," Rafael replied; "there's a splendid clown for eight bob ; but for dat Spanish dress, selp ma Moshesh, Mis- traer Lint, ve'd ask a guinea of any but you. Here's a gentle- mansh just come to look at it. Look 'ear, Mr. Brownsh, did you ever shee a nisher ting dan dat ? " So saying, Rafael turned to Lord Codlingsby with the utmost gravity, and displayed to him the garment about which the young medicus was haggling. " Cheap at the money," Codlingsby replied ; " if you won't make up your mind, sir, I should like to engage it myself." But the thought that another should appear before Polly Pat- tens in that costume was too much for Mr. Lint ; he agreed to pay the fifteen shillings for the garment. And Rafael, pocket- ing the money with perfect simplicity, said, " Dis vay, Mr. Brownsh ; dere's someting vill shoot you in the next shop." Lord Codlingsby followed him, wondering. " You are surprised at our system," said Rafael, marking the evident bewilderment of his friend. " Confess you call it meanness — my huckstering with yonder young fool. I would call it simplicity. Why throw away a shilling without need ? Our race never did. A shilling is four men's bread : shall I disdain to defile my fingers by holding them out relief in their neces- sity ? It is you who are mean — you Normans — not we of the ancient race. You have your vulgar measurement for great things and small. You call a thousand pounds respectable, and a shekel despicable. Psha, my Codlingsby ! One is as the other. I trade in pennies and in millions. I am above or below neither." They were passing through a second shop, smelling strongly of cedar, and, in fact, piled up with bales of those pencils which the young Hebrews are in the habit of vending through the streets. " I have sold bundles and bundles of these," said Rafael. " My little brother is now out with oranges in Picca- dilly. I am bringing him up to be head of our house at Am- sterdam. We all do it. I had myself to see Rothschild in Eaton Place this morning, about the Irish loan, of which I have taken three millions : and as I wanted to walk, I carried the bag. " You should have seen the astonishment of Lauda Latymer, the Archbishop of Croydon's daughter, as she was passing St, iS 2^0 VELS B V EMINENT HANDS. Bennet's, Knightsbridge, and as she fancied she recognized in the man who was crying old clothes the gentleman with whom she had talked at the Count de St. Aulair's the night before." Something like a blush flushed over the pale features of Men- doza as he mentioned the Lady Lauda's name. " Come on," said he. They passed through various warehouses — the orange room, the sealing-wax room, the six-bladed knife department, and finally came to an old baize door. Rafael opened the baize door by some secret contrivance, and they were in a black passage, with a curtain at the end. He clapped his hands; the curtain at the end of the pas- sage drew back, and a flood of golden light streamed on the Hebrew and his visitor. Chapter XXIV. They entered a moderate-sized apartment — indeed, Holy- well Street is not above a hundred yards long, and this chamber was not more than half that length — it was fitted up with the simple taste of its owner. The carpet was of white velvet — (laid over several webs of Aubusson, Ispahan, and Axminster, so that your foot gave no more sound as it trod upon the yielding plain than the shadow did which followed you) — of white velvet, painted with flowers, arabesques, and classic figures by Sir William Ross, J. M. W. Turner, R. A., Mrs. Mee, and Paul Delaroche. The edges were wrought with seed-pearls, and fringed with Valenciennes lace and bullion. The walls were hung with cloth of silver, embroidered with gold figures, over which were worked pome- granates, polyanthuses, and passion-flowers, in ruby, amethyst, and smaragd. The drops of dew which the artificer had sprinkled on the flowers were diamonds. The hangings were overhung by pictures yet more costly. Giorgione the gorgeous, Titian the golden, Rubens the ruddy and pulpy (the' Pan of Painting), some of Murillo's beatified shepherdesses, who smile on you out of darkness like a star, a few score first-class Leon- ardoes, and fifty of the masterpieces of the patron of Julius and Leo, the Imperial genius of Urbino, covered the walls of the little chamber. Divans of carved amber covered with ermine went round the room, and in the midst was a fountain, pattering and babbling with jets of double distilled otto of roses. " Pipes, Goliath ! " Rafael said gayly to a little negro with CODLTNGSBY. 27 ft silver collar (he spoke to him in his native tongue of Don- gola) ; " and welcome to our snuggery, my Codlingsby. We are quieter here than in the front of the house, and I wanted to show you a picture. I'm proud of my pictures. That Leonardo came from Genoa, and was a gift to our father from my cousin. Marshal Manasseh : that Murillo was pawned to my uncle by Marie Antoinette before the flight to Varennes — ■ the poor lady could not redeem the pledge, you know, and the picture remains with us. As for the Rafael, I suppose you are aware that he was one of our people. But what are you gazing at ? Oh ! my sister — I forgot. Miriam ! this is the Lord Cod- lingsby." She had been seated at an ivory pianoforte on a mother-of- pearl music-stool, trying a sonata of Herz. She rose when thus apostrophized. Miriam de Mendoza rose and greeted the stranger. The Talmud relates that Adam had two wives — Zillah the dark beauty ; Eva the fair one. The ringlets of Zillah were black ; those of Eva were golden. The eyes of Zillah were night ; those of Eva were morning. Codlingsby was fair — of the fair Saxon race of Hengist and Horsa — they called him Miss Codlingsby at school ; but how inuch fairer was Miriam the Hebrew ! Her hair had that deep glowing tmge in it which has been the delight of all painters, and which, therefore, the vulgar sneer at. It was of burning auburn. Meandering over her fairest shoulders in twenty thousand minute ringlets, it hung to her waist and below it. A light-blue velvet fillet clasped with a diamond aigrette (valued at two hundred thousand tomauns, and bought from Lieutenant Vicovich, who had received it from Dost Mahomed), with a simple bird of paradise, formed her head-gear. A sea-green cymar, with short sleeves, displayed her exquisitely moulded arms to perfection, and w^as fastened by a girdle of emeralds over a yellow satin frock. Pink gauze trousers spangled with silver, and slippers of the same color as the band which clasped her ringlets (but so covered with pearls that the original hue of the charming little papoosh disappeared entirely) completed her costume. She had three necklaces on, each of which would have dowered a Princess — her fingers glistened with rings to their rosy tips, and priceless bracelets, bangles, and armlets wound round an arm that was whiter than the ivory grand piano on which it leaned. As Miriam de Mendoza greeted the stranger, turning upon him the solemn welcome of her eyes, Codlingsby swooned 28 ^O VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. almost in the brightness of her beauty. It was well she spoke ; the sweet kind voice restored him to consciousness. Muttering a few words of incoherent recognition, he sank upon a sandal- wood settee, as Goliath, the little slave, brought aromatic coffee in cups of opal, and alabaster spittoons, and pipes of the fra- grant Gibelly. " My lord's pipe is out," said Miriam with a smile, remark- ing the bewilderment of her guest — who in truth forgot to smoke — and taking up a thousand-pound note from a bundle on the piano, she lighted it at the taper and proceeded to re- illumine the extinp"uished chibouk of Lord Cocllingsby. IV. When Miriam, returning to the mother-of-pearl music-stool, at a signal from her brother, touched the silver and enamelled keys of the ivory piano, and began to sing. Lord Codlingsby felt as if he were listening at the gates of Paradise, or were hearing Jenny Lind. " Lind is the name of the Hebrew race ; so is Mendelssohn, the son of Almonds ; so is Rosenthal, the Valley of the Roses: so is Lowe or Lewis or Lyons or Lion, The beautiful and the brave alike give cognizances to the ancient people : you Saxons call yourselves Brown, or Rodgers," Rafael observed to his friend ; and, drawing the instrument from his pocket, he ac- companied his sister, in the most ravishing manner, on a little gold and jewelled harp, of the kind peculiar to his nation. All the airs which the Hebrew maid selected were written by composers of her race ; it was either a hymn by Rossini, a polacca by Braham, a delicious romance by Sloman, or a melody by Weber, that, thrilling on the strings of the instrument, wakened a harmony on the fibres of the heart ; but she sang no other than the songs of her nation. " Beautiful one ! sing ever, sing always," Codlingsby thought. " I could sit at thy feet as under a green palm-tree, and fancy that Paradise-birds were singing in the boughs." Rafael read his thoughts. " We have Saxon blood too in our veins," he said. " You smile ! but it is even so. An an- cestress of ours made a mesalliance in the reign of your King John. Her name was Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, and she married in Spain, whither she had fled to the Court of King Boabdil, Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, then a widower by the CODLINGSBY. 29 demise of his first lady, Rowena. The match was deemed a cruel insult amongst our people ; but Wilfred conformed, and was a Rabbi of some note at the synagogue of Cordova. We are descended from him lineally. It is the only blot upon the escutcheon of the Mendozas." As they sat talking together, the music finished, and Miriam having retired (though her song and her beauty were still present to the soul of the stranger) at a signal from Mendoza, various messengers from the outer apartments came in to transact busi- ness with him. First it was Mr. Aminadab, vv'ho kissed his foot, and brought papers to sign. " How is the house in Grosvenor Square, Aminadab ; and is your son tired of his yacht yet ? " Men- doza asked. " That is my twenty-fourth cashier," said Rafael to Codlingsby, when the obsequious clerk went away. " He is fond of display, and all my people may have what money they like." Entered presently the Lord Bareacres, on the affair of his mortgage. The Lord Bareacres, strutting into the apartment with a haughty air, shrank back, nevertheless, with surprise on beholding the magnificence around him. " Little Mordecai," said Rafael to a little orange-boy, who came in at the heels of the noble, " take this gentleman out and let him have ten thou- sand pounds. I can't do more for you, my lord, than this — ■ Lm busy. Good-by ! " And Rafael waved his hand to the peer, and fell to smoking his narghilly. A man with a square face, cat-like eyes, and a yellow mustache, came next. He had an hour-glass of a waist, and walked uneasily upon his high-heeled boots. " Tell your master that he shall have two millions more, but not another shilling," Rafael said. '' That story about the five-and-twenty millions of ready money at Cronstadt is all bosh. They won't believe it in Europe. You understand me Count Grogom- offski ? " " But his Imperial Majesty said four millions, and I shall get the knout unless " " Go and speak to Mr. Shadrach, in room Z 94, the fourth court," said Mendoza, good-naturedly. " Leave me at peace, Count ; don't you see it is Friday, and almost sunset ? " The Calmuck envoy retired cringing, and left an odor of musk and candle-grease behind him. An orange-man ; an emissary from Lola Montes ; a dealer in piping bulfinches ; and a Cardinal in disguise, with a pro- posal for a new loan for the Pope, were heard by turns ; and 30 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. each, after a rapid colloquy in his own language, was dismissed by Rafael. " The queen must come back from Aranjuez, or that king must be disposed of," Rafael exclaimed, as a yellow-faced am- bassador from Spain, General the Duke of 011a Podrida, left him. " Which shall it be, my Codlingsby ? " Codlingsby was about laughingly to answer — for indeed he was amazed to find all the affairs of the world represented here, and Holywell Street the centre of Europe — when three knocks of a peculiar nature were heard, and Mendoza starting up, said, " Ha ! there are only four men in the world who know that signal." At once, and with a reverence quite distinct from his former non- chalant manner, he advanced towards the new-comer. He was an old man — an old man evidently, too, of the Hebrew race — the light of his eyes was unfathomable — about his mouth there played an inscrutable smile. He had a cotton umbrella, and old trousers, and old boots, and an old wig, curl- ing at the top like a rotten old pear. He sat down, as if tired, in the first seat at hand, as Rafael made him the lowest reverence. " 1 am tired," says he ; "I have come in fifteen hours. I am ill at Neuilly," he added with a grin. "Get me some eau sucre'e, and tell me the news. Prince de Mendoza. These bread rows ; this unpopularity of Guizot ; this odious Spanish con- spiracy against my darling Montpensier and daughter; this ferocity of Palmerston against Coletti, makes me quite ill. Give me your opinion, my dear duke. But ha ! whom have we here .-' " The august individual who had spoken, had used the Hebrew language to address Mendoza, and the Lord Cod- lingsby might easily have pleaded ignorance of that tongue. But he had been at Cambridge, where all the youth acquire it perfectly. " S/re," said he, " I will not disguise from you that I know the ancient tongue in which you speak. There are probably secrets between Mendoza and your Maj " " Hush ! " said Rafael, leading him from the room. " Au revoir, dear Codlingsby. His Majesty is one of us," he whis- pered at the door ; " so is the Pope of Rome ; so is * * * " — a whisper concealed the rest. " Gracious powers ! is it so ? " said Codlingsby, musing. He entered into Holywell Street. The sun was sinking. " It is time," said he, " to go and fetch Armida to the Olympic." PHIL FOGARTY. A TA.LE OF THE FIGHTING ONETY-ONETH. By Harry Rollicker. I. The gabion was ours. After two hours' fighting we were in possession of the first embrasure, and made ourselves as com- fortable as circumstances would admit. Jack Delamere, Tom Delancy, Jerry Blake, the Doctor, and myself, sat down under a pontoon, and our servants laid out a hasty supper on a tum- brel. Though Cambaceres had escaped me so provokingly after I cut him down, his spoils were mine ; a cold fowl and a Bologna sausage were found in the Marshal's holsters ; and in the haversack of a French private who lay a corpse on the glacis, we found a loaf of bread, his three days' ration. Instead of salt, we had gunpowder ; and you may be sure, wherever the Doctor was, a flask of good brandy was behind him in his in- strument-case. We sat down and made a soldier's supper. The Doctor pulled a few of the delicious fruit from the lemon- trees growing near (and round which the Carbineers and the 24th Leger had made a desperate rally), and punch was brewed in Jack Delamere's helmet. '"Faith, it never had so much wit in it before," said the Doctor, as he ladled out the drink. We all roared with laugh- ing, except the guardsman, who was as savage as a Turk at a christening. " Buvez-en," said old Sawbones to our French prisoner- "9a vous fera du bien, mon vieux coq ! " and the Colonel, whose wound had been just dressed, eagerly grasped at the proffered cup, and drained it with a health to the donors. 3 (31) 32 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. How strange are the chances of war ! But half an hour be* fore he and I were engaged in mortal combat, and our prisoner was all but my conqueror. Grappling with Cambaceres, whom I knocked from his horse, and was about to despatch, I felt a lunge behind, which luckily was parried by my sabretache ; a herculean grasp was at the next instant at my throat — I was on the ground — my prisoner had escaped, and a gigantic warrior in the uniform of a colonel of the regiment of Artois glaring over me with pointed sword. " Rends-toi, coquin ! " said he. " Allez au Diable ! " said I : " a Fogarty never surrenders." I thought of my poor mother and my sisters, at the old house in Killaloo — I felt the tip of his blade between my teeth — I breathed a prayer, and shut my eyes — when the tables were turned — the butt-end of Lanty Clancy's musket knocked the sword up and broke the arm that held it. " Thonamoundiaoul nabochlish," said the French ofificer, with a curse in the purest Irish, It was lucky I stopped laughing time enough to bid Lanty hold his hand, for the hon- est fellow would else have brained my gallant adversary. We were the better friends for our combat, as what gallant hearts are not ? The breach was to be stormed at sunset, and like true sol- diers we sat down to make the most of our time. The rogue of a Doctor took the liver-wing for his share — we gave the other to our guest, a prisoner ; those scoundrels Jack Dela- mere and Tom Delancy took the legs — and, 'faith, poor I was put off with the Pope's nose and a bit of the back. " How d'ye like his YioX\x\^s%'' s fayturcl " said Jerry Blake. " Anyhow you'll have a merry thought,^^ cx\Q.&{\i^ incorrigi- ble Doctor, and all the party shrieked at the witticism, " De mortuis nil nisi bonum," said Jack, holding up the drumstick clean. " 'Faith, there's not enough of it to make us chicken-hearted, anyhow," said I ; " come, boys, let's have a song." " Here goes," said Tom Delancy, and sung the following lyric, of his own composition : — " Dear Jack, this white mug that w'th Guinness I fill, And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill, Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot — In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass, And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass, " One rooming in summer, while seated so snug, In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug. PHIL FOG ARTY. j3 Stem Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear, And said, ' Honest Thomas, come take your last bier ; ' We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can, From which let us drink to the health of my Nan." " Psha ! " said the Doctor, "I've heard that song beforej here's a new one for you, boys ! " and Sawbones began, in » rich Corkagian voice — "You've all heard of Larry O'Toole, Of the beautiful town of Drumgoole ; He had but one eye. To ogle ye by — Oh, murther, but that was a jew'l ! A fool He made of de girls, dis O'ToolCf " 'Twas he was the boy didn't fail, That tuck down pataties and mail v He never would shrink From any sthrong dthrink. Was it whiskey or Drogheda ale I I'm bail This Larry would swallow a paiL " Oh, many a night at the bowl. With Larry I've sot cheek by jowl ; He's gone to his rest. Where there's dthrink of the best, And so let us give his old soul A howl, For 'twas he made the noggin to rowl." I observed the French Colonel's eye glistened as he heard these well-known accents of his country ; but we were too well- bred to pretend to remark his emotion. The sun was setting behind the mountains as our songs were finished, and each began to look out with some anxiety for the preconcerted signal, the rocket from Sir Hussey Vivian's quarters, which was to announce the recommencement of hos- tilities. It came just as the moon rose in her silver splendor, and ere the rocket-stick fell quivering to the earth at the feet of General Picton and Sir Lowry Cole, who were at their posts at the head of the storming-parties, nine hundred and ninety- nine guns in position opened their fire from our batteries, which were answered by a tremendous cannonade from the fort. " Who's going to dance ? " said the Doctor : " the ball's begun. Ha ! there's goes poor Jack Delamere's head off ! The ball chose a soft one, anyhow. Come here, Tim, till I mend your leg. Your wife has need only knit half as many stockings next year, Doolan my boy. Faix ! there goes a big one had wellnigh stopped my talking : bedad ! it has snuffed the feather off my cocked hat ! " In this way^ with eighty-four-pounders roaring over us like 34 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS hail, the undaunted little Doctor pursued his jokes and hi% duty. That he had a feeling heart, all who served with him knew, and none more so than Philip Fogarty, the humble writer of this tale of war. Our embrasure was luckily bomb-proof, and the detachment of the Onety-oneth under my orders suffered comparatively little. " Be cool, boys," I said ; " it will be hot enough work for you ere long." The honest fellows answered with an Irish cheer. I saw that it affected our prisoner. " Countryman," said I, " I know you ] but an Irishman was never a traitor." " Taisez-vous ! " said he, putting his finger to his lip. "C'esl la fortune de la guerre : if ever you come to Paris, ask for the Marquis d' O'Mahony, and I may render you the hospi- tality which your tyrannous laws prevent me from exercising in the ancestral halls of my own race." PHTL FOG ARTY. 35 I shook him warmly by the hand as a tear beduTimed his eye. It was, then, the celebrated Colonel of the Irish Brigade, created a Marquis by Napoleon on the field of Austerlitz ! "Marquis," said I, "the country which disowns you is proud of you ; but — ha ! here, if I mistake not, comes our signal to advance." And in fact Captain Vandeleur, riding up through the shower of shot, asked for the commander of the detachment, and bade me hold myself in readiness to move as soon as the flank companies of the Ninety-ninth, and Sixty- sixth and the Grenadier Brigade of the German Legion began to advance up the e'chelon. The devoted band soon arrived \ Jack Bowser heading the Ninety-ninth (when was he away and a storming-party to the fore ?), and the gallant Potztausend, with his Hanoverian veterans. The second rocket flew up. " Forward, Onety-oneth ! " cried I, in a voice of thunder. " Killaloo boys, follow your captain ! " and wifh a shrill hurray, that sounded' above the tremendous fire from the fort, we sprung up the steep ; Bowser with the brave Ninety-ninth, and the bold Potztausend, keeping well up with us. We passed the demi-lune, we passed the culverin, bayoneting the artillerymen at their guns ; we advanced across the two tremendous demi- lunes which flank the counterscarp, and prepared for the final spring upon the citadel. Soult I could see quite pale on the wall ; and the scoundrel Cambaceres, who had been so nearly my prisoner that day, trembled as he cheered his men. " On boys, on ! " I hoarsely exclaimed. " Hurroo ! " said the fight- ing Onety-oneth. But there was a movement among the enemy. An officer, glittering with orders, and another in a gray coat and a cocked hat, came to the wall, and I recognized the Emperor Napoleon and the famous Joachim Murat. " We are hardly pressed, methinks," Napoleon said sternly, " I must exercise my old trade as an artilleryman ; " and Murat loaded, and the Emperor pointed the only hundred-and-twenty- four-pounder that had not been silenced by our fire. " Hurray, Killaloo boys ! " shouted I, The next moment a sensation of numbness and death seized me, and I lay like a corpse upon the rampart, 5« NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. II. " Hush ! " said a voice, which I recognized to be that of the Marquis d' O'Mahony, " Heaven be praised, reason has returned to you. For six weeks those are the only sane words I have heard from you." " Faix, and 'tis thrue for you, Colonel dear," cried another voice, with which I was even more familiar ; 'twas that of my honest and gallant Lanty Clancy, who was blubbering at my bedside overjoyed at his master's recovery. " O mush a, Masther Phil agrah ! but this will be the great day intirely, when I send off the news, which I would, barrin' I can't write, to the lady your mother and your sisters at Castle Fogarty ; and 'tis his Riv'rence Father Luke will jump for joy thin, when he reads the letther ! Six weeks ravin' and roarin' as bould as a lion, and as mad as Mick Malony's pig, that mis- tuck Mick's wig for a cabbage, and died of atin' it ! " " And have I then lost my senses ? " I exclaimed feebly. " Sure, didn't ye call me your beautiful Donna Anna only yesterday, and catch hould of me whiskers as if they were the Signora's jet-black ringlets ? " Lanty cried. At this moment, and blushing deeply, the most beautiful young creature I ever set my eyes upon, rose from a chair at the foot of the bed, and sailed out of the room. "Confusion, you blundering rogue," I cried ; "who is that lovely lady whom you frightened away by your impertinence ? Donna Anna ? Where am I ? ' " You are in good hands, Philip," said the Colonel ; " you are at my house in the Place Vendome, at Paris, of which I am the military Governor. You and Lanty were knocked down by the wind of the cannon-ball at Burgos. Do not be ashamed : 'twas the Emperor pointed the gun ; " and the Colonel took off his hat as he mentioned the name darling to France. " When our troops returned from the sally in which your gallant storm- ing-party was driven back, you were found on the glacis, and I had you brought into the City. Your reason had left you, how- ever, when you returned to life ; but, unwilling to desert the son of my old friend, Philip Fogarty, who saved my life in '98, I brought you in my carriage to Paris." " And many's the time you tried to jump out of the windy, Masther Phil," said Clancy. " Brought you to Paris," resumed the Colonel, smiling ; ♦* where, by the soins of my friends Broussais, Esquirol, and PHIL FOGARTY. ^* Baron Larrey, you have been restored to health, thank heaven ! " " And that lovely angel who quitted the apartment ? " I ctied. " That lovely angel is the Lady Blanche Sarsfield, my ward, a descendant of the gallant Lucan, and who may be, when she chooses, Madame la Marechale de Cambaceres, Duchess of Illyria." "Why did you deliver the ruffian when he was in my grasp ? " I cried. " Why did Lanty deliver you when in mine ? " the Colonel replied. " C'est la fortune de la guerre, mon gar^on ; but calm yourself, and take this potion which Blanche has pre- pared for you." I drank the tisane eagerly when I heard whose fair hands had compounded it, and its effects were speedily beneficial to me, for I sank into a cool and refreshing slumber. From that day I began to mend rapidly, with all the elasti- city of youth's happy time. Blanche — the enchanting Blanche — ministered henceforth to me, for I would take no medicine but from her lily hand. And what were the effects ? 'Faith, ere a month was past, the patient was over head and ears in love with the doctor ; and as for Baron Larrey, and Broussais, and Esquirol, they were sent to the right-about. In a short time I was in a situation to do justice to the gigof atix navets, the hceuf mix cornichons, and other delicious e?iiremefs of the Marquis's board, with an appetite that astonished some of the Frenchmen who frequented it. " Wait till he's quite well, Miss," said Lanty, who waited always behind me. " Faith ! when he's in health, I'd back him to ate a cow, barrin' the horns and teel." I sent a decan- ter at the rogue's head, by way of answer to his impertinence. Although the disgusting Cambaceres did his best to have my parole withdrawn from me, and to cause me to be sent to the English depot of prisoners at Verdun, the Marquis's interest with the Emperor prevailed, and I was allowed to remain at Paris, the hap.piest of prisoners, at the Colonel's hotel at the Place Vendome. I here had the opportunity (an opportunity not lost, I flatter myself, on a young fellow with the accom- plishments of Philip Fogarty, Esq.) of mixing with the e/itd of French society, and meeting with many of the great, the beautiful, and the brave. Talleyrand was a frequent guest of the Marquis's. His bon-niots used to keep the table in a roar. Ney frequently took his chop with us; Murat, when in town. 3^ NOVELS B\ EMINENT HANDS. constantly dropt in for a cup of tea and friendly round game. Alas ! who would have thought those two gallant heads would be so soon laid low ? My wife has a pair of earrings which the latter, who always wore them, presented to her — but we are advancing matters. Anybody could see, " avec un dcmi- ceil" as the Prince of Benevento remarked, how affairs went between me and Blanche ; but though she loathed him for his cruelties and the odiousness of his person, the brutal Camba- ceres still pursued his designs upon her, I recollect it was on St. Patrick's Day, My lovely friend had procured, from the gardens of the Empress Josephine, at Malmaison (whom we loved a thousand times more than her Austrian successor, a sandy-haired woman, between ourselves, with an odious squint), a quantity of shamrock wherewith to garnish the hotel, and all the Irish in Paris were invited to the national festival. I and Prince Talleyrand danced a double hornpipe with Pauline Bonaparte and Madame de Stael ; Marshal Soult went down a couple of sets with Madame Recamier ; and Robes- pierre'svwidow — an excellent, gentle creature, quite unlike her husband — stood up with the Austrian ambassador. Besides,, the famous artists Baron Gros, David and Nicholas Poussin, and Canova, who was in town making a statue of the Emperor for Leo X., and, in a word, all the celebrities of Paris — as my gifted countrywoman, the wild Irish girl, calls them — were assembled in the Marquis's elegant receiving-rooms. At last a great outcry was raised for La Gigue Irlandaise i La Gigue Lr/andaise f a dance which had made a />/r(f///" amongst the Parisians ever since the lovely Blanche Sarsfieldhad danced it. She stepped forward and took me for a partner, and amidst the bravos of the crowd, in which stood Ney, Murat, Lannes, the Prince of Wagram, and the Austrian ambassador, we showed to the beau monde of the French capital, I flatter myself, a not unfavorable specimen of the dance of our country. As I was cutting the double-shuffle, and toe-and-heeling it in the " rail " style, Blanche danced up to me, smiling, and said, " Be on your guard ; I see Cambaceres talking to Fouche, the Duke of Otranto, about us ; and when Otranto turns his eyes upon a man, they bode him no good." " Cambaceres is jealous," said I. " I have it," says she ; " I'll make him dance a turn with me." So, presently, as the music was going like mad all this time, I pretended fatigue from my late wounds, and sat down. The lovely Blanche went up smiling, and brought out Cambaceres as a second partner. PHIL FOG ARTY. 3g The Marshal is a lusty man, who makes desperate efforts to give himself a waist, and the effect of the exercise upon him svas speedily visible. He puffed and snorted like a walrus, drops trickled down his purple face, while my lovely mischief of a Blanche went on dancing at treble quick, till she fairly danced him down. " Who'll take the flure with me ? " said the charming girl, animated by the sport. " Faix, den, 'tis I, Lanty Clancy ! " cried my rascal, who had been mad with excitement at the scene ; and, stepping in with a whoop and hurroo, he began to dance with such rapidity as made all present stare. As the couple were footing it, there was a noise as of a rapid cavalcade traversing the Place Vendome, and stopping at the Marquis's door. A crowd appeared to mount the stair ; the great doors of the reception-room were flung open, and two pages announced their Majesties the Emperor and the Empress. So engaged were Lanty and Blanche, that they never heard the tumult occasioned by the august approach. It was indeed the Emperor, who, returning from the Theatre Fran^ais, and seeing the Marquis's windows lighted up, pro* posed to the Empress to drop in on the party. He made signs to the musicians to continue : and the conqueror of Marengo and Friedland watched with interest the simple evolutions of two happy Irish people. Even the Empress smiled ; and, see- ing this, all the courtiers, including Naples and Talleyrand, were delighted. " Is not this a great day for Ireland ? " said the Marquis, with a tear trickling down his noble face. " O Ireland ! O my country ! But no more of that. Go up, Phil, you divvle. and offer her Majesty the choice of punch or negus." Among the young fellows with whom I was most intimate in Paris was Eugene Beauharnais, the son of the ill-used and un- happy Josephine by her former marriage with a French gentle- man of good family. Having a smack of the old blood in him, Eugene's manners were much more refined than those of the new-fangled dignitaries of the Emperor's Court, where (for my knife and fork were regularly laid at the Tuileries) I have seen my poor friend Murat repeatedly mistake a fork for a tooth-pick, and the gallant Massena devour pease by means of his knife, in a way more innocent than graceful. Talleyrand, Eugene, and I used often to laugh at these eccentricities of our brave friends ; who certainly did not shine in the drawing-room, how- ever brilliant they were in the field of battle. The Emperol 40 1^0 VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. always asked me to take wine with him, and was full of kind- ness and attention. • " I like Eugene," he would say, pinching my ear confiden- tially, as his way was — " I like Eugene to keep company with such young fellows as you ; you have manners ; you have prin- ciples ; my rogues from the camp have none. And I like you, Philip my boy," he added, for being so attentive to my poor wife — the Empress Josephine, I mean." All these honors made my friends at the Marquis's very proud, and my enemies at Court crcver with envy. Among these, the atrocious Camba- ceres was not the least active and envenomed. The cause of the many attentions which were paid to me, and which, like a vain coxcomb, I had chosen to attribute to my own personal amiability, soon was apparent. Having formed a good opinion of my gallantry from my conduct in various actions and forlorn hopes during the war, the Emperor was most anxious to attach me to his service. The Grand Cross of St. Louis, the title of Count, the command of a crack cavalry regiment, the i4me Chevaux Marins, were the bribes that were actually offered to me ; and must I say it ? Blanche, the lovely, the perfidious Blanche, was one of the agents employed to tempt me to commit this act of treason. " Object to enter a foreign service ! " she said, in reply to my refusal, " It is you, Philip, who are in a foreign service. The Irish nation is in exile, and in the territories of its French allies, Irish traitors are not here ; they march alone under the accursed flag of the Saxon, whom the great Napoleon would have swept from the face of the earth, but for the fatal valor of Irish mercenaries ! Accept this offer, and my heart, my hand, my all are yours. Refuse it, Philip, and we part." " To wed the abominable Cambaceres ! " I cried, stung with rage. " To wear a duchess's coronet, Blanche ! Ha, ha ! Mushrooms, instead of strawberry-leaves, should decorate the brows of the upstart French nobility. I shall withdraw my parole. I demand to be sent to prison — to be exchanged — to die — anything rather than be a traitor, and the tool of a trai- tress ! " Taking up my hat, I left the room in a fury ; and flinging open the door tumbled over Cambaceres, who was listening at the keyhole, and must have overheard every word of our conversation. We tumbled over each other, as Blanche was shrieking with laughter at our mutual discomfiture. Her scorn only made me more mad ; and, having spurs on, I began digging tliem into Cambaceres' fat sides as we rolled on the carpet, until the Mar« shal Jiowled with rage and anger. PHIL FOG ARTY. 4I " This insult must be avenged with blood ! " roared the Duke of Illyria. " I have already drawn it," says I, " with my spurs." " Malheur et malediction ! " roared the Marshal. " Hadn't you better settle your wig ? " says I, offering it to him on the tip of my cane, " and we'll arrange time and place when you have put your jasey in order." I shall never forget the look of revenge which he cast at me, as I was thus turning him into ridicule before his mistress. " Lady Blanche," I continued bitterly, " as you look to share the Duke's coronet, hadn't you better see to his wig ? " and so saying, I cocked my hat, and walked out of the Marquis's place, whistling " Garryowen." I knew my man would not be long in following me, and waited for him in the Place Vendome, where I luckily met Eu- gene too, who was looking at the picture-shop in the corner, I explained to him my affair in a twinkling. He at once agreed to go with me to the ground, and commended me, rather than otherwise, for refusing the offer which had been made to me. "I knew it would be so," he said, kindly ; " I told my father you wouldn't. A man with the blood of the Fogarties, Phil my boy, doesn't wheel about like those fellows of yesterday." So, when Cambaceres came out, which he did presently, with a more furious air than before, I handed him at once over to Eugene, who begged him to name a friend, and an early hour for the meeting to take place. " Can you make it before eleven, Phil ? " said Beauharnais. " The Emperor reviews the troops in the Bois de Boulogne at that hour, and we might fight there handy before the review." " Done ! " said I. " I want of all things to see the newly- arrived Saxon cavalry manoeuvre : " on which Cambaceres giv- ing me a look, as much as to say, " See sights ! Watch cavalry manoeuvres ! Make your soul, and take measure for a coffin, my boy ! " walked away, naming our mutual acquaintance, Marshal Ney, to Eugene, as his second in the business. I had purchased from Murat a very line Irish horse. Buga- boo, out of Smithereens, by Fadladeen, which ran into the French ranks at Salamanca, with poor Jack Clonakilty, of the 13th, dead, on the top of him. Bugaboo was too much and too ugly an animal for the King of Naples, who, though a showy horseman, was a bad rider across country ; and I got the horse for a song. A wickeder and uglier brute never wore a pig-skin ; and I never put my leg over such a timber-jumper in my life. I rode the horse down to the Bois de Boulogne on the morning 42 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. Ihat the affair with Cambac^res was to come off, and Lanty held him as I went in, " sure to win," as they say in the ring. Cambaceres was known to be the best sliot in the French army ; but I, who am a pretty good hand at a snipe, thought a man was bigger, and tliat I could wing liim if I had a mind. As soon as Ney gave the word, we both fired : I felt a whizz pass my left ear, and putting up my hand there, found a large piece of my whiskers gone ; whereas at the same moment, and shrieking a horrible malediction, my adversary reeled and fell. " Mon Dieu, il est mort ! " cried Ney. " Pas de tout," said Beauharnais. " Ecoute ; il jure tou- jours." And such, indeed, was the fact : the supposed dead man lay on the ground cursing most frightfully. We went up to him : he was blind with the loss of blood, and my ball had car- ried off the bridge of his nose. He recovered ; but he was always called the Prince of Ponterotto in the French army after- wards. The surgeon in attendance having taken charge of this unfortunate warrior, we rode off to the review, where Ney and Eugene were on duty at the head of their respective divisions ; and where, by the way, Cambaceres, as the French say, " se faisait de'sirer." It was arranged that Cambaceres' division of six battalions and nine-and-twenty squadrons should execute a ricochet move- ment, supported by artillery in the intervals, and converging by different epaiiletnents on the light infantry, that formed as usual, the centre of the line. It was by this famous manoeuvre that at Areola, at Montenotte, at Friedland, and subsequently at Mazagran, Suwaroff, Prince Charles, and General Castanos were defeated with such victorious slaughter : but it is a move- ment which, I need not tell every military man, requires the greatest delicacy of execution, and which, if it fails, plunges an army in confusion. "Where is the Duke of Illyria.?" Napoleon asked. "At the head of his division, no doubt," said Murat : at which Eugene, giving me an arch look, put his hand to his nose, and caused me almost to fall off my horse with laughter. Napoleon looked sternly at me ; but at this moment the troops getting in motion, the celebrated manoeuvre began, and his Majesty's attention was taken off from my impudence. Milhaud's Dragoons, their bands playing "Vive Henri Quatre," their cuirasses gleaming in the sunshine, moved upon their own centre from the left flank in the most brilliant order, while the Carbineers of Foy, and the Grenadiers of the Guard under Drouet d'Erlon, executed a carambolade on the righ^ PHIL FOG ARTY. 43 with the precision which became those veteran troops ; but the Chasseurs of the young guard, marching by twos instead of threes, bore consequently upon the Bavarian Uhlans (an ill-dis- ciplined and ill-affected body), and then, falling back in disorder, became entangled with the artillery and the left centre of the line, and in one instant thirty thousand men were in inextric- able confusion. " Clubbed, by Jabers ! " roared out Lanty Clancy. " I wish we could show 'em the Fighting Onety-oneth, Captain darling." " Silence, fellow ! " I exclaimed. I never saw the face of man express passion so vividly as now did the livid countenance of Napoleon. He tore off General Milhaud's epaulettes, which he flung into Foy's face. He glared about him wildly, like a demon, and shouted hoarsely for the Duke of Illyria. " He is wounded, sire," said General Foy, wiping a tear from his eye, which was blackened by the force of the blow ; " he was wounded an hour since in a duel, Sire, by a young English prisoner. Monsieur de Fogarty." " Wounded ! a Marshal of France wounded ! Where is the Englishman ? Bring him out, and let a file of grenadiers ' '* Sire ! " interposed Eugene. " Let him be shot ! " shrieked the Emperor, shaking his spy-glass at me with the fury of a fiend. This was too much. " Here goes ! " said I, and rode slap at him. There was a shriek of terror from the whole of the French army, and I should think at least forty thousand guns were levelled at me in an instant. But as the muskets were not loaded, and the cannon had only wadding in them, these facts, I presume, saved the life of Phil Fogarty from this discharge. Knowing my horse, I put him at the Emperor's head, and Bugaboo went at it like a shot. He was riding his famous white Arab, and turned quite pale as I came up and went over the horse and the Emperor, scarcely brushing the cockade which he wore. " Bravo ! " said Murat, bursting into enthusiasm at the leap. " Cut him down ! " said Sieyes, once an Abbe, but now a gigantic Cuirassier ; and he made a pass at me with his sword. But he little knew an Irishman on an Irish horse. Bugaboo cleared Sieyes, and fetched the monster a slap with his near hind hoof which sent him reeling from his saddle, — and away I went with an army of a hundred and seventy-three thousand eight hundred men at my heels. * * * * BARBAZURE. By G. p. R. Jeames^ Esq. etc. I. It was upon one of those balmy evenings of Novembei which are only known in the valleys of Languedoc and among the mountains of Alsace, that two cavaliers might have been perceived by the naked eye threading one of the rocky and romantic gorges that skirt the mountain-land between the Marne and the Garonne. The rosy tints of the declining lu- minary were gilding the peaks and crags which lined the path, through which the horsemen wound slowly ; and as these eter- nal battlements with which Nature had hemmed in the ravine which our travellers trod, blushed with the last tints of the fading sunlight, the valley below was gray and darkling, and the hard and devious course was sombre in twilight. A few goats, hardly visible among the peaks, were cropping the scanty herbage here and there. The pipes of shepherds, call- ing in their flocks as they trooped homewards to their mountain villages, sent up plaintive echoes which moaned through those rocky and lonely steeps ; the stars began to glimmer in the purple heavens spread serenely overhead ; and the faint cres- cent of the moon, which had peered for some time scarce visi- ble in the azure, gleamed out more brilliantly at every moment, until it blazed as if in triumph at the sun's retreat. 'Tis a fair land that of France, a gentle, a green, and a beautiful ; the home of arts and arms, of chivalry and romance, and (how- ever sadly stained by the excesses of modern times) 'twas the unbought grace of nations once, and the seat of ancient re- nown and disciplined valor. And of all that fair land of France, whose beauty is so bright and bravery is so famous, there is no spot greener or (44) BARBAZURE. >■ 45 fairer than that one over which our travellers wended, and which stretches between the good towns of Vendemiaire and Nivose. 'Tis common now to a hundred thousand voyagers : the English tourist with his chariot and his Harvey's Sauce, and his imperials ; the bustling commis-voyageur on the roof of the rumbling diligence ; the rapid mallc-poste thundering over the chaussee at twelve miles an hour — pass the ground hourly and daily now : 'twas lonely and unfrequented at the end of that seventeenth century with which our story commences. Along the darkening mountain-paths the two gentlemen (for such their outward bearing proclaimed them) caracolled together. The one, seemingly the younger of the twain, wore a flaunting feather in his barret-cap, and managed a prancing Andalusian palfrey that bounded and curvetted gayly. A sur- coat of peach-colored samite and a purfled doublet of vair bespoke him noble, as did his brilliant eye, his exquisitely chiselled nose, and his curling chestnut ringlets. Youth was' on his brow : his eyes were dark and dewy, like spring violets ; and spring-roses bloomed upon his cheek — ■ roses, alas ! that bloom and die with life's spring ! Now bounding over a rock, now playfully whisking off with his riding rod a floweret in his path, Philibert de Coquelicot rode by his darker companion. His comrade was mounted upon a destriere of the true Nor- man breed, that had first champed grass on the green pastures of Aquitaine. Thence through Berry, Picardy, and the Limou- sin, halting at many a city and commune, holding joust and tourney in many a castle and manor of Navarre, Poitou, and St. Germain I'Auxerrois, the warrior and his charger reached the lonely spot where now we find them. The warrior who bestrode the noble beast was in sooth worthy of the steed which bore him. Both were caparisoned in the fullest trappings of feudal war. The arblast, the man- gonel, the demi-culverin, and the cuissart of the period, glittered upon the neck and chest of the war-steed ; while the rider, with chamfron and catapult, with ban and arriere-ban, morion and tumbrel, battle-axe and rifflard, and the other appurtenances of ancient chivalry, rode stately on his steel-clad charger, him- self a tower of steel. This mighty horseman was carried by his steed as lightly as the young springald by his Andalusian hackney. " 'Twas well done of thee, Philibert," said he of the proof- armor, " to ride forth so far to welcome thy cousin and com* panion in arms," 4.6 ^0 VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. " Companion in battledore and shuttlecock, Romand de Clos-Vougeot ! " replied the younger Cavalier. " When I was yet a page, thou wert a belted knight ; and thou wert away to the Crusades ere ever my beard grew." " I stood by Richard of England at the gates of Ascalon, and drew the spear from sainted King Louis in the tents of Damietta," the individual addressed as Romane' replied. " Well-a-day ! since thy beard grew, boy (and marry 'tis yet a thin one), I have brokan a lance with Solyman at Rhodes, and smoked a chibouque with Saladin at Acre. But enough of this. Tell me of home — of our native valley — of my hearth, and my lady-mother, and my good chaplain — tell me of her, Philibert," said the knight, executing a demi-volte, in order to hide his emotion. Philibert seemed uneasy, and to strive as though he would parry the question. " The castle stands on the rock," he said, " and the swallows still build in the battlements. The good chaplain still chants his vespers at morn, and snuffles his matins at even-song. The lady-mother still distributeth tracts, and knitteth Berlin linsey-woolsey. The tenants pay no better, and the lawyers dun as sorely, kinsman mine," he added with an arch look. " But Fatima, Fatima, how fares she ? " Romane continued. " Since Lammas was a twelvemonth, I hear nought of her ; my letters are unanswered. The postman hath traversed our camp every day, and never brought me a billet. How is Fatima, Philibert de Coquelicot ? " " She is — well," Philibert replied ; " her sister Anne is the fairest of the twain, though." " Her sister Anne was a baby when I embarked for Egypt. A plague on sister Anne ! Speak of Fatima, Philibert — my blue-eyed Fatima ! " " I say she is — well," answered his comrade gloomily. "Is she dead? Is she ill ? Hath she the measles.'' Nay, hath she had small-pox, and lost her beauty } Speak ! speak, boy ! " cried the knight, wrought to agony. " Her cheek is as red as her mother's, though the old countess paints hers every day. Her foot is as light as a sparrow's, and her voice as sweet as a minstrel's dulcimer ; but give me nathless the Lady Anne," cried Philibert; "give me the peerless Lady Anne ! As soon as ever I have won spurs, I will ride all Christendom through, and proclaim her the Queen of Beauty. Ho, Lady Anne ! Lady Anne ! " and so saying — but evidently wishing to disguise some emotion, or con' BARBAZURE. 47 ceal some tale his friend could ill brook to hear — the reckless damoiseau galloped wildly forward. But swift as was his courser's pace, that of his compan- ion's enormous charger was swifter. "Boy," said the elder, "thou hast ill tidings. I know it by thy glance. vSpeak: shall he who hath bearded grim Death in a thousand fields shame to face truth from a friend .'' Speak, in the nanip- of heaven and good Saint Botibol. Romane de Clos-Vougeot will bear your tidings like a man ! " " Fatima is well," answered Philibert once again ; " she hath had no measles : she lives and is still fair." " Fair, ay, peerless fair : but what more, Philibert ? Not false? By Saint Botibol, say not false," groaned the elder warrior. " A month syne," Philibert replied, " she married the Baron de Barbazure." With that scream which is so terrible in a strong man in agony, the brave knight Romane de Clos-Vougeot sank back at the words, and fell from his charger to the ground, a lifeless mass of steel. II. Like many another fabric of feudal war and splendor, the once vast and magnificent Castle of Barbazure is now a moss- grown ruin. The traveller of the present day, who wanders by the banks of the silvery Loire, and climbs the steep on which the magnificent edifice stood, can scarcely trace, among the shattered masses of ivy-covered masonry which lie among the lonely crags, even the skeleton of the proud and majestic palace stronghold of the Barons of Barbazure. In the days of our tale its turrets and pinnacles rose as stately, and seemed (to the pride of sinful man !) as strong as the eternal rocks on which they stood. The three mullets on a gules wavy reversed, surmounted by the sinople couchant Or ; the well-known cognizance of the house, blazed in gor- geous heraldry on a hundred banners, surmounting as many towers. The long lines of battlemented walls spread down the mountain to the Loire, and were defended by thousands of steel-clad serving-men. Four hundred knights and six times as many archers fought round the banner of Barbazure at Bou* 4 .g NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. vines, Malplaquet, and Azincour. For his services at Fonte- noy against the English, the heroic Charles Martel appointed the fourteenth Baron Hereditary Grand Bootjack of the king- dom of France ; and for wealth, and for splendor, and for skill and fame in war, Raoul, the twenty-eighth Baron, was in nowise inferior to Ms noble ancestors. That the Baron Raoul levied toll upon the river and mail upon the shore ; that he now and then ransomed a burgher, plundered a neighbor, or drew the fangs of a Jew ; that he burned an enemy's castle with the wife and children within ; these were points for which the country knew and respected the stout Baron, When he returned from victory, he was sure to en- dow the Church with a part of his spoil, so that when he went forth to batde he was always accompanied by her blessing. Thus lived the Baron Raoul, the pride of the country in which he dwelt, an ornament to the Court, the Church, and his neighbors. But in the midst of all his power and splendor there was a domestic grief which deeply afflicted the princely Barbazure. His lovely ladies died one after the other. No sooner was he married than he was a widower ; in the course of eighteen years no less than nine bereavements had befallen the chief- tain. So true it is, that if fortune is a parasite, grief is a re- publican, and visits the hall of the great and wealthy as it does the humbler tenements of the poor, * * # * * " Leave off deploring thy faithless, gad-about lover," said the Lady of Chacabacque to her daughter, the lovely Fatima, " and think how the noble Barbazure loves thee ! Of all the damsels at the ball last night, he had eyes for thee and thy cousin only," " I am sure my cousin hath no good looks to be proud of ! " the admirable Fatima exclaimed, bridling up. "Not that/ care for my Lord of Barbazure's looks. My heart, dearest mother, is with him who is far away ! " " He danced with thee four galliards, nine quadrilles, and twenty-three corantoes, I think, child," the mother said, elud- ing her daughter's remark. " Twenty-five," said lovely Fatima, casting her beautiful eyes to the ground. " Heigh-ho ! but Romane danced them very well ! " " He had not the court air," the mother suggested. " I don't wish to deny the beauty of the Lord of Barbazure's dancing, mamma," Fatima replied. " For a short, lusty man, BARBAZURE. 4g 'tis wondrous how active he is ; and in dignity the King's Grace himself could not surpass him," *' You were the noblest couple in the room, love," the lady cried. ** That pea-green doublet, slashed with orange tawney, those ostrich plumes, blue, red, and yellow, those parti-colored hose and pink shoon, became the noble baron wondrous well," Fa- tima acknowledged. " It must be confessed that, though mid- dle-aged, he hath all the agility of youth. But alas, madam ! The noble baron hath had nine wives already." "And your cousin would give her eyes to become the tenth," the mother replied, " My cousin give her eyes ! " Fatima exclaimed. " It's not much, I'm sure, for she squints abominably." And thus the ladies prattled, as they rode home at night after the great ball at the house of the Baron of Barbazure. The gentle reader, who has overheard their talk, will under- stand the doubts which pervaded the mind of the lovely Fatima, and the well-nurtured English maiden will participate in the divided feelings which rent her bosom, 'Tis true, that on his departure for the holy wars, Romane and Fatima were plighted to each other ; but the folly of long engagements is proverbial ; and though for many months the faithful and affectionate girl had looked in vain for news from him, her admirable parents had long spoken with repugnance of a match which must bring inevitable poverty to both parties. They had suffered, 'tis true, the engagement to subside, hostile as they ever were to it ; but when on the death of the ninth lady of Barbazure, the noble baron remarked Fatima at the funeral, and rode home with her after the ceremony, her prudent j^arents saw how much wiser, better, happier for their child it would be to have for life a partner like the baron, than to wait the doubtful return of the penniless wanderer to whom she was plighted. Ah ! how beautiful and pure a being ! how regardless of self ! how true to duty ! how obedient to parental command, is that earthly angel, a well-bred woman of genteel family ! In- stead of indulging in splenetic refusals or vain regrets for her absent lover, the exemplary Fatima at once signified to her ex- cellent parents her willingness to obey their orders ; though she had sorrows (and she declared them to be tremendous), the admirable being disguised them so well, that none knew they oppressed her. She said she would try to forget former ties, and (so strong in her mind was duty above every other feeling ! — so strong may it be in every British maiden !) the ^ o NO VELS B Y EMINENT HA NDS. lovely girl kept her promise. " My former engagements,' she said, packing up Romane's letters and presents, (which, as the good knight was mortal poor, were in sooth of no great price) — " my former engagements I look upon as childish follies ; — • my affections are fixed where my dear parents graft them — on the noble, the princely, the polite Barbazure. 'Tis true he is not comely in feature, but the chaste and well-bred female knows how to despise the fleeting charms of form. 'Tis true he is old ; but can woman be better employed than in tending her aged and sickly companion ,'' That he has been married is likewise certain — but ah, my mother ! who knows not that he must be a good and tender husband, who, nine times wedded, owns that he cannot be happy without another partner .'' " It was with these admirable sentiments the lovely Fatima proposed obedience to her parents' will, and consented to re- ceive the magnificent marriage-gift presented to her by her gal- lant bridegroom. III. The old Countess of Chacabacque had made a score of vain attempts to see her hapless daughter. Ever, when she came, the porters grinned at her savagely through the grating of the portcullis of the vast embattled gate of the Castle of Barbazure, and rudely bade her begone. " The Lady of Bar- bazure sees nobody but her confessor, and keeps her chamber," was the invariable reply of the dogged functionaries to the en- treaties of the agonized mother. And at length, so furious was he at her perpetual calls at his gate, that the angry^ Lord of Barbazure himself, who chanced to be at the postern, armed a cross-bow, and let fly an arblast at the crupper of the lady's palfrey, whereon she fled finally, screaming, and in terror. " I will aim at the rider next time ! " howled the ferocious baron, " and not at the horse ! " And those who knew his savage nature and his unrivalled skill as a bowman, knew that he would neither break his knightly promise nor miss his aim. Since the fatal day when the Grand Duke of Burgundy gave his famous passage of arms at Nantes, and all the nobles of France were present at the joustings, it was remarked that the Barbazure's heart was changed towards his gentle and virtuous lady. BARBAZUKE. ^ l For the three first days of that famous festival, the redoubted Baron of Barbazure had kept the field against all the knights who entered. His lance bore everything down before it. The most famous champions of Europe, assembled at these joust- ings, had dropped, one by one, before this tremendous warrior. The prize of the tourney was destined to be his, and he was to be proclaimed bravest of the brave, as his lady was the fairest of the fair. On the third day, however, as the sun was declining over the Vosges, and the shadows were lengthening over the plain where the warrior had obtained such triumphs ; — after having overcome two hundred and thirteen knights of different nations, including the fiery Dunois, the intrepid Walter Manny, the spotless Bayard, and the undaunted Duguesclin, as the con- queror sat still erect on his charger, and the multitude doubted whether ever another champion could be found to face him, three blasts of a trumpet were heard, faint at first, but at every moment ringing more clearly, until a knight in pink armor rode into the lists with his visor down, and riding a tremendous dun charger, which he managed to the admiration of all present. The heralds asked him his name and quality. " Call me," said he, in a hollow voice, "the Jilted Knight." What was it made the Lady of Barbazure tremble at his ac- cents. The Knight refused to tell his name and qualities ; but the companion who rode with him, the young and noble Philibert de Coquelicot, who was known and respected universally through the neighborhood, gave a warranty for the birth and noble degree of the Jilted Knight — and Raoul de Barbazure, yelling hoarsely for a two-hundred-and-fourteenth lance, shook the huge weapon in the air as though it were a reed, and pre- pared to encounter the intruder. According to the wont of chivalry, and to keep the point of the spear from harm, the top of the unknown knight's lance was shielded with a bung, which the warrior removed ; and galloping up to Barbazure's pavilion, over which his shield hung, touched that noble cognizance with the sharpened steel. A thrill of excitement ran through the assembly at this daring challenge to a combat a routraiue. " Hast thou confessed. Sir Knight ? " roared the Barbazure ; " take thy ground, and look to thyself ; for by heaven thy last hour is come ! " " Poor youth, poor youth ! " sighed the spectators ; " he has called down his own fate." The next minute the signal was given, and as the simoom across the desert, the cataract down the 52 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. rock, the shell from the howitzer, each warrior rushed from his goal. " Thou wilt not slay so good a champion ? " said the Grand Duke, as at the end of that terrific combat the knight in rose armor stood over his prostrate foe, whose helmet had rolled off when he was at length unhorsed, and whose bloodshot eyes, glared unutterable hate and ferocity on his conqueror. " Take thy life," said he who had styled himself the Jilted Knight ; " thou hast taken all that was dear to me." And the sun setting, and no other warrior appearing to do battle against him, he was proclaimed the conqueror, and rode up to the duchess's balcony to receive the gold chain which was the re- ward of the victor. He raised his visor as the smiling princess guerdoned him — raised it, and gave one sad look towards the Lady Fatima at her side ! " Romane de Clos-Vougeot ! " shrieked she, and fainted. The Baron of Barbazure heard the name as he writhed on the ground with his wound, and by his slighted honor, by his broken ribs, by his roused fury, he swore revenge ; and the Lady Fatima, who had come to the tourney as a queen, returned to her castle as a prisoner. (As it is impossible to give the whole of this remarkable novel, let it suffice to say briefly here, that in about a volume and a half, in which the descriptions of scenery, the account of the agonies of the baroness, kept on bread-and-water in her dungeon, and the general tone of moralit}'', are all excellently worked out, the Baron de Barbazure resolves upon putting his wife to death by the hands of the public executioner.) tF "ff tF tT tF "TT Two minutes before the clock struck noon, the savage baron was on the platform to inspect the preparation for the frightful ceremony of mid-day. The block was laid forth — the hideous minister of ven- geance, masked and in black, with the flaming glaive in his hand, was ready. The baron tried the edge of the blade with his finger, and asked the dreadful swordsman if his hand was sure ? A nod was the reply of the man of blood. The weeping garrison and domestics shuddered and shrank from him. There was not one there but loved and pitied the gentle lady. Pale, pale as a stone, she was brought from her dungeon. To all her lord's savage interrogatories, her reply had been, " I am innocent." To his threats of death her answer was, "You are my lord ; my life is in your hands, to take or to give." Ho\) BARBAZURE. 33 few are the wives, in our day, who show such atlgelic meekness ! It touched all hearts around her, save that of the implacable Barbazure ! Even the Lady Blanche (Fatima's cousin), whom he had promised to marry upon his faithless wife's demise, be- sought for her kinswoman's life, and a divorce ; but Barbazure had vowed her death. "Is there no pity, sir?" asked the chaplain who had at- tended her. " No pity ? " echoed the weeping serving-maid. " Did I not aye say I would die for my lord ? " said th« gentle lady, and placed herself at the block. Sir Raoul de Barbazure seized up the long ringlets of her raven hair. " Now ! " shouted he to the executioner, with a stamp of his foot — " Now strike ! " The man (who knew his trade) advanced at once, and poised himself to deliver his blow: and making his flashing sword sing in the air, with one irresistible, rapid stroke, it sheared clean off the head of the furious, the blood-thirsty, the implacable Baron de Barbazure ! Thus he fell a victim to his own jealousy ; and the agitation of the Lady Fatima may be imagined, when the executioner, flinging off his mask, knelt gracefully at her feet, and revealed to her the well-known features of Romane de Clos-Vougeot. LORDS AND LIVERIES. By the Authoress of " Dukes and Dejeuners," " Hearts and Diamonds," " Marchionesses and Milliners," etc., etc. " CoRBLEU ! What a lovely creature that was in the Fitz- battleaxe box to-night," said one of a group of young dandies who were leaning over the velvet-cushioned balconies of the " Coventry Club," smoking their full-flavored Cubas (from Hudson's) after the opera. Everybody stared at such an exclamation of enthusiasm from the lips of the young Earl of Bagnigge, who was never .heard to admire anything except a couUs de di?idon?ieau a la St. Mhie/iould, or a snpre?nede cochon en torticolis a la Piffarde ; such as Champollion, the chef of the "Traveller's," only knows how to dress ; or the bouquet of a flask of Me'doc, of Carbonell's best quality ; or a goutte of Marasquin, from the cellars of Briggs and Hobson. Alured de Pentonville, eighteenth Earl of Bagnigge, Vis- count Paon of Islington, Baron Pancras, Kingscross, and a Baronet, was, like too many of our young men of ton, utterly blase, although only in his twenty-fourth year. Blest, luckily, with a mother of excellent principles (who had imbued his young mind with that Morality which is so superior to all the vain pomps of the world !) it had not been always the young earl's lot to wear the coronet for which he now in sooth cared so little. His father, a captain of Britain's navy, struck down by the side of the gallant Collingwood in the Bay of Fundy, left little but his sword and spotless name to his young, lovely, and inconsolable widow, who passed the first years of her mourning in educating her child in an elegant though small cottage in one of the romantic marine villages of beautiful Devonshire. (54) LORDS AND LIVERIES. ^^ Her child ! What a gush of consolation filled the widow's heart as she pressed him to it ! How faithfully did she instil into his young bosom those principles which had been the pole- star of the existence of his gallant father ! In this secluded retreat, rank and wealth almost boundless found the widow and her boy. The seventeenth Earl — gallant and in the prime of youth — went forth one day from the Eternal City to a steeple-chase in the Campagna. A mutilated corpse was brought back to his hotel in the Piazza di Spagna. Death, alas ! is no respecter of the Nobility. That shattered form was all that remained of the fiery, the haughty, the wild, but the generous Altamont de Pentonville ! Such, such is fate ! The admirable Emily de Pentonville trembled with all a mother's solicitude at the distinct'ons and honors which thus suddenly descended on her boy. She engaged an excellent clergyman of the Church of England to superintend his studies ; to accompany him on foreign travel when the proper season arrived ; to ward from him those dangers which dissipation always throws in the way of the noble, the idle, and the wealthy. But the Reverend Cyril Delaval died of the measles at Naples, and henceforth the young Earl of Bagnigge was without a guardian. What was the consequence ? That, at three-and-twenty, he was a cynic and an epicure. He had drained the cup of pleasure till it had palled in his unnerved hand. He had looked at the Pyramids without awe, at the Alps without reverence. He was unmoved by the sandy solitudes of the Desert as by the placid depths of Mediterranean's sea of blue. Bitter, bitter tears did Emily de Pentonville weep, when, on Alured's return from the Continent, she beheld the awful change that dissipation had wrought in her beautiful, her blue-eyed, her perverted, her still beloved boy ! " Corpo di Bacco," he said, pitching the end of his cigar on to the red nose of the Countess of Delawaddymore's coach- man — who, having deposited her fat ladyship at No. 236 Pic- cadilly, was driving the carriage to the stables, before com- mencing his evening at the " Fortune of War " public-house— " what a lovely creature that was ! What eyes ! what hair ! Who knows her } Do you, mon cher prince ? " " E bellissima, certamente," said the Duca de Montepulci- ano, and stroked down his jetty mustache. " Ein gar schones Madchen," said the Hereditary Grand Duke of Eulenschreckenstein, and turned up his carroty one. " EUe n'est pas mal, ma foi ! " said the Prince de Borodino, 56 ^O VELS B V EMINEl^T HANDS. with a scowl on his darkling brows. " Mon Dieu, que ces cigarres sont mauvais ! " he added, as he too cast away his Cuba. " Try one of my Pickwicks," said Franklin Fox, with a sneer, offering his gold //;// to the young Frenchman ; " they are some of Pontet's best, prince. What, do you bear malice ? Come, let us be friends," said the gay and careless young patrician ; but a scowl on the part of the Frenchman was the only reply. — " Want to know who she is ? Borodino knows who she is, Bagnigge," the wag went on. Everybody crowded round Monsieur de Borodino thus apostrophized. The Marquis of Alicompayne, young De Boots of the Life-guards, Tom Protocol of the Foreign Office ; the gay young Peers, Farintosh, Poldoody, and the rest; and Bagnigge, for a wonder, not less eager than any one present. " No, he will tell you nothing about her. Don't you see he has gone off in a fury ! " Franklin Fox continued. " He has his reasons, ce cher prince : he will tell you nothing ; but I win. You know that I am au mieux with the dear old duchess." " They say Frank and she are engaged after the duke's death," cried Poldoody. " I always thought Fwank was the duke's illicit gweat- gwandson," drawled out De Boots. "I heard that he doctored her Blenheim, and used to bring her wigs from Paris," cried that malicious Tom Protocol, whose mots are known in every diplomatic salon from Petersburg to Palermo. " Burn her wigs, and hang her poodle ! " said Bagnigge. " Tell me about this girl, Franklin Fox." " In the first place, she has live hundred thousand acres, in a ring fence, in Norfolk ; a county in Scotland, a castle in Wales, a villa at Richmond, a corner house in Belgrave Square, and eighty thousand a year in the three-per-cents." " Apres .'' " said Bagnigge, still yawning. " Secondly, Borodino lui fait la cour. They are cousins, her mother was an Armagnac of the emigration ; the old Marshal, his father, married another sister. I believe he was footman in the family, before Napoleon princified him." " No, no, he was second coachman," Tom Protocol good- naturedly interposed — " a cavalry officer, Frank, not an infantry man." " 'Faith you should have seen his fury (the young one's, 1 mean) when he found me in the duchess's room this evening, LORDS AND LIVERIES. 5^ tete-a-tete with the heiress, who deigned to accept a bouquet from this hand." "It cost me three guineas," poor Frank said, with a shrug and a sigh, *' and that Covent Garden scoundrel gives no credit ; but she took the flowers ; — eh, Bagnigge ? " " And flung them to Alboni," the Peer replied, with a haughty sneer. And poor little Franklin Fox was compelled to own that she had. The mattre d^ hotel here announced that supper was served. It was remarked that even the coielis de dindonncau made no impression on Bagnigge that night. 11. The sensation produced by the debut of Amethyst Pimlico at the court of the sovereign, and in the salons of the beau monde, was such as has seldom been created by the appearance of any other beauty. The men were raving with love, and the women with jealousy. Her eyes, her beauty, her wit, her grace, her ton, caused a perfect fiireur of admiration or envy. Introduced by the Duchess of Fitzbattleaxe, along with her Grace's daughters, the Ladies Gwendoline and Gwinever Port- cullis, the heiress's regal beauty quite flung her cousins' simple charms into the shade, and blazed with a splendor which caused all " minor lights " to twinkle faintly. Before a day the beaic monde, before a week even the vulgarians of the rest of the town, rang with the fame of her charms ; and while the dandies and the beauties were raving about her, or tearing her to pieces in May Fair, even Mrs. Dobbs (who had been to the pit of the " Hoperer " in a green turban and a crumpled yellow satin) talked about the great hairess to her D. in Bloomsbury Square. Crowds went to Squab and Lynch's, in Long Acre, to ex- amine the carriages building for her, so faultless, so splendid, so quiet, so odiously unostentatious and provokingly simple ! Besides the ancestral services of argenterie and vaisselle plate, contained in a hundred and seventy-six plate chests at Messrs. Childs', Rumble and Briggs prepared a gold service, and Garraway, of the Haymarket, a service of the Benvenuto Cellini pattern, which were the admiration of all London. Before a month it is a fact that the wretched haberdashers in the City exhibited the blue stocks, called " Heiress-killers, very chaste 58 NO VELS B V EMINENT HANDS. two-and-six : " long before that the monde had rushed to Madame Crinoline's, or sent couriers to Madame INIarabou, at Paris, so as to have cojoies of her dresses ; but, as the IMantuan bard observes, " Non cuivis contigit," — every foot cannot accom- modate itself to the chaussure of Cinderella. With all this splendor, this worship, this beauty ; with these ' cheers following her, and these crowds at her feet, was Ame- thyst happy ? Ah, no ! It is not under the necklace the most brilliant that Briggs and Rumble can supply, it is not in Lynch's best cushioned chariot that the heart is most at ease. " Que je me mineral, " says Fronsac in a letter to Bossuet, " si je savais ou acheter le bonheur ! " With all her riches, with all her splendor. Amethyst was wretched — wretched, because lonely; wretched, because her loving heart had nothing to cling to. Her splendid mansion was a convent ; no male person ever entered it, except Franklin Fox (who counted for nothing), and the duchess's family, her kinsman old Lord Humpington, his friend old Sir John Fogey, and her cousin, the odious, odious Borodino. The Prince de Borodino declared openly that Amethyst was engaged to him. Cribl'e de dettes, it is no wonder that he should choose such an opportunity to refaire safortime. He gave out that he would kill any man who should cast an eye on the heiress, and the monster kept his word. Major Grigg, of the Lifeguards, had already fallen by his hand at Ostend. The O'Toole, who had met her on the Rhine, had received a ball in his shoulder at Coblentz, and did not care to resume so dangerous a courtship. Borodino could snuff a bougie at a hundred and fifty yards. He could beat Bertrand or Alexander Dumas himself with the small-sword : he was the dragon that watched this pomme d'or, and very few persons were now inclined to face a champion si redoutablc. Over a sabni d'escargot at the " Coventry," the dandies whom we introduced in our last volume were assembled there talking of the heiress ; and her story was told by Franklin Fox to Lord Bagnigge, who, for a wonder, was interested in the tale. Borodino's pretensions were discussed, and the way in which the fair Amethyst was confined. Fitzbattleaxe House, in Belgrave Square, is — as everybody knows — the next man- sion to that occupied by Amethyst. A communication was made between the two houses. She never went out except accompanied by the duchess's guard, which it was impossible to overcome. " Impossible ! Nothing's impossible," said Lord Bagnigge. LORDS AND LIVERIES. 59 " I bet you what you like you don't get in," said the young Marquis of Martingale. " I bet you a thousand ponies I stop a week in the heiress's house before the season's over," Lord Bagnigge replied with a yawn \ and the bet was registered with shouts of applause. But it seemed as if the Fates had determined against Lord Bagnigge, for the very next day, riding in the Park, his horse fell with him ; he was carried home to his house with a frac- tured limb and a dislocated shoulder ; and the doctor's bul- letins pronounced him to be in the most dangerous state. Martingale was a married man, and there was no danger of his riding by the Fitzbattleaxe carriage. A fortnight after the above events, his lordship was prancing by her Grace's great family coach, and chattering with Lady Gwinever about the strange wager. " Do you know what a pony is. Lady Gwinever ? " he asked. Her ladyship said yes : she had a cream-colored one at Castle Barbican ; and stared when Lord Martingale announced that he should soon have a thousand ponies, worth five-and-twenty pounds each, which were all now kept at Coutt's. Then he explained the circumstances of the bet with Bagnigge. Parlia- ment was to adjourn in ten days ; the season would be over! Bagnigge was lying ill chez lui ; and the five-and-twenty thou- sand were irrecoverably his. And he vowed he would buy Lord Binnacle's yacht — crew, captain, guns and all. On returning home that night from Lady Polkimore's, Mar- tingale found among the many billets upon the gold plateau in his anti-chambre the following brief one, which made him start : — " Dear Martingale. — Don't be too sure of Binnacle's yacht. There are still ten days before the season is over ; and my ponies may lie at Coutts's for some time to come. " Yours, " Bagnigge. " P. S. — I write with my left hand ; for my right is still splintered up from that confounded fall." 5o NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. Ill, The tall footman, number four, who had come in the place of John, cashiered, (for want of proper mollets, and because his hair did not take powder well,) had given great satisfaction to the under-butler, who reported well of him to his chief, who had mentioned his name with praise to the house-steward. He was so good-looking and well-spoken a young man, that the ladies in the housekeeper's room deigned to notice him more than once ; nor was his popularity diminished on account of a quarrel in which he engaged with Monsieur Anatole, the enor- mous Walloon chasseur, who was one day found embracing Miss Flouncy, who waited on Amethyst's own maid. The very instant Miss Flouncy saw Mr. Jeames entering the Ser- vants' Hall, where Monsieur Anatole was engaged in " aggra- vating " her, Miss Flouncy screamed : at the next moment the Belgian giant lay sprawling upon the carpet ; and Jeames, standing over him, assumed so terrible a look, that the chasseur declined any further combat. The victory was made known to the house-steward himself, who, being a little partial to Miss Flouncy herself, complimented Jeames on his valor, and poured out a glass of Madeira in his own room. Who was Jeames ? He had come recommended by the Bagnigge people. He had lived, he said, in that family two years. " But where there was no ladies," he said, " a gentle- man's hand was spiled for service ; " and Jeames's was a very delicate hand ; Miss Flouncy admired it very much, and of course he did not defile it by menial service : he had in a young man who called him sir, and did all the coarse work ; and Jeames read the morning paper to the ladies ; not spellingly and with hesitation, as many gentlemen do, but easily and ele- gantly, speaking off the longest words without a moment's diffi- culty. He could speak French, too, Miss Flouncy found, who was studying it under Mademoiselle Gra?ide JiUe-de-chambre de confiance; for when she said to him, " Polly voo Fransy, Mun- seer Jeames?" he replied readily, "We, Mademaselle, j'ay passay boco de tong a Parry. Commong voo potty voo ? " How Miss Flouncy admired him as he stood before her, the day after he had saved Miss Amethyst when the horses had run away with her in the Park ! Poor Flouncy, poor Flouncy ! Jeames had been but a week in Amethyst's service, and already the gentle heart of the wash- LORDS AN-D LIVERIES. 6 1 ing-girl was irrecoverably gone ! Poor Flouncy ! poor Flouncy ! he thought not of thee. It happened thus. Miss Amethyst being engaged to drive with her cousin the prince in his phaeton, her own carriage was sent into the Park simply with her companion, who had charge of her little Fido, the dearest little spaniel in the world. Jeames and Frederick were behind the carriage with their long sticks and neat dark liveries \ the horses were worth a thousand guineas each, the coachman a late lieutenant-colonel of cav- alry : the whole ring could not boast a more elegant turn-out. The prince drove his curricle, and had charge of his belle cousitie. It may have been the red fezzes in the carriage of the Turkish ambassador which frightened the prince's grays, or Mrs. Champignon's new yellow liveries, which were flaunting in the Park, or hideous Lady Gorgon's preternatural ugliness, who passed in a low pony-carriage at the time, or the prince's own want of skill, finally ; but certain it is that the horses took fright, dashed wildly along the mile, scattered equipages, ////w/j-, dandies' cabs, and snobs' pheaytons. Amethyst was screaming ; and the prince, deadly pale, had lost all presence of mind, as the curricle came rushing iDy the spot where Miss Amethyst's carriage stood. " I'm blest," Frederick exclaimed to his companion, "if it ain't the prince a-drivin our missis ! They'll be in the Serping- tine, or dashed to pieces, if they don't mind." And the run- away steeds at this instant came upon them as a whirlwind. But if those steeds ran at a whirlwind pace, Jeames was swifter. To jump from behind, to bound after the rocking, reeling curricle, to jump into it aided by the long stick which he carried and used as a leaping-pole, and to seize the reins out of the hands of the miserable Borodino, who shrieked piteously as the dauntless valet leapt on his toes and into his seat, was the work of an instant. In a few minutes the mad, swaying rush of the horses was reduced to a swift but steady gallop ; presently into a canter, then a trot ; until finally they pulled up smoking and trembling, but quite quiet, by the side of Amethyst's carriage, which came up at a rapid pace. "Give me the reins, malappris ! tu m'e'crases le corps, manant ! " yelled the frantic nobleman, writhing underneath the intrepid charioteer. " Tant pis pour toi, nigaud," was the reply. The lovely Amethyst of course had fainted ; but she recovered as she was placed in her carriage, and rewarded her preserver with a ce- lestial smile. 52 XO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. The rage, the fury, the maledictions of Borodino, as he saw the latter — a liveried menial — stoop gracefully forward and kiss Amethyst's hand, may be imagined rather than described. But Jeames heeded not his curses. Having placed his adored mis- tress in the carriage, he calmly resumed his station behind. Passion or danger seemed to have no impression upon that pale marble face. Borodino went home furious ; nor was his rage diminished, when, on coming to dinner that day, a recherche banquet served in the Frangipane best style, and requesting a supply of a puret a hi bisque aux ecrevisses., the clumsy attendant who served him let fall the assiette of vcrmeille cisele, with its scalding contents, over the prince's chin, his Mechlin y'rtt/^c?/, and the grand cordon of the Legion of Honor which he wore. " Infame," howled Borodino, " tu Fas fait expres ! " " " Oui, je I'ai fait expres," said the man, with the most per- fect Parisian accent. It was Jeames. Such insolence of course could not be passed unnoticed even after the morning's service, and he was chassed on the spot. He had been but a week in the house. The next month the newspapers contained a paragraph which may possibly elucidate the above mystery, and to the following effect : — " Singular Wager. — One night, at the end of last season, the young and eccentric Earl of B-gn-gge laid a wager of twenty-five thousand pounds with a broken sporting patrician, the dashing Marquis of M-rt-ng-le, that he would pass a week under the roof of a celebrated and lovely young heiress, who lives not a hundred miles from B-lgr-ve Squ-re. The bet hav- ing been made, the earl pretended an illness, and having taken lessons from one of his lordship's own footmen (Mr. James Plush, whose name he also borrowed) in ' the mysteries of the prflfcssion,' actually succeeded in making an entry into Miss P-ml-co's mansion, where he stopped one week exactly ; having time to win his bet, and to save the life of the lady, whom we hear he is about to lead to the altar. He disarmed the Prince of Borodino in a duel fought on Calais sands — and, it is said, appeared at the C club wearing his plush costume under a cloak, and displaying it as a proof that he had won his wager." Such, indeed, were the circumstances. The young couple have not more than nine hundred thousand a year, but they live cheerfully, and manage to do good ; and Emily de Ponton- ville, who adores her daughter-in-law and her little grand- children, is blest in seeing her darling son erijin un homme range\ CRINOLINE. By Je-mes Pl-sh, Esq. I, I'm not at libbaty to divulj the reel names of the 2 Eroes of the igstrawny Tail which I am abowt to relait to those un lightnd paytrons of letarature and true connyshures of merrit — the great Brittish public — But I pledj my varacity that this singlar story of rewmantic love, absobbing pashn, and likewise of genteel life^ is, in the main fax, trew. The suckmstanzas I elude to, ocurd in the rain of our presnt Gratious Madjisty and her beluvd and roil Concert Prince Halbert. Welthen. Some time in the seazen of 18 — (mor I dar not rewheel) there arrived in this metropulus, per seknd class of the London and Dover Railway, an ellygant young foring gen- tleman, whom I shall danomminate Munseer Jools De Chac- abac. Having read through " The Vicker of Wackfield " in the same oridganal English tung in which this very harticle I write is wrote too, and halways been remarkyble, both at collidge and in the estamminy, for his aytred and orror of perfidgus Halbion, Munseer Jools was considered by the prapriretors of the news- paper in which he wrote, at Parris, the very man to come to this country, igsamin its manners and customs, cast an i upon the politticle and finanshle stat of the Hempire, and igspose the mackynations of the infymous Palmerston, and the ebom- minable Sir Pill — both enemies of France ; as is every other Britten of that great, gloarus, libberal, and peasable country. In one word, Jools de Chacabac was a penny-a-liner. " I will go see with my own I's," he Siid, "that infimus hiland of which the innabitants are shopkeepers, gorged with C63) ^ ^ NO VELS B Y EMINENT HA NDS. roast beef and treason. I will go and see the murderers oi the Hirish, the pisoners of the Chynese, the villians who put the Hemperor to death in Saintyleany, the artful dodges who wish to smother Europe with their cotton, and can't sleep or rest heasy for henvy and hatred of the great inwinsable French nation. I will igsammin, face to face, these hotty insularies ; \ will pennytrate into the secrets of their Jessywhittickle cabi- net, and beard Palmerston in his denn." When he jumpt on shor at Foaxton (after having been tremenguously sick in the four-cabbing), he exclaimed, " Enfin je te tiens, He maudite ! je te crache a la figure, vieille Angleterre ! Je te foule a mes pieds au nom du monde outrage," and so proseaded to inwade the metropulus. As he wisht to micks with the veiy chicest sosiaty, and git the best of infamation about this country, Munseer Jools of coarse went and lodgd in Lester Square — Lester Squarr, as he calls it — which, as he was infommed in the printed suckular presented to him by a very greasy but polite comishner at the Custumus Stares, was in the scenter of the town, contiggus to the Ouses of Parlyment, the prinsple theayters, the parx, St. Jams Pallice, and the Corts of Lor. " I can surwhey them all at one cut of the eye," Jools thought ; " the Sovring, the in- famus Ministers plotting the destruction of my immortial coun- try ; the business and pleasure of these pusproud Londoners and aristoxy ; I can look round and see all." So he took a three-pair back in a French hotel, the " Hotel de I'Ail, kep by Monsieur Gigotot, Cranbourne Street, Lester Squarr, London. In this otell there's a billiard-room on the first floor, and a tabble-doat at eighteenpence per edd at 5 o'clock ; and the land- lord, who kem into Jools's room smoaking a segar, told the young gent that the house was friquented by all the Brittish nobillaty, who reglar took their dinners there. " They can't ebide their own quiseen" he said. " You'll see what a dinner we'll serve you to-day." Jools wrote off to his paper — " The members of the haughty and luxurious English aris- tocracy, like all the rest of the world, are obliged to fly to France for the indulgence of their luxuries. The nobles of England, quitting their homes, their wives, miladies and nustriss, so^ fair but so cold, dine universally at the tavern. That froin which I write is frequented by Peel and Palmerston. I fremis to thmk that I may meet them at the board to-day." Singlar to say. Peel and Palmerston didn't dine at the " Hotel de I'Ail " on that evening. " It's quite igstronnary they don't come," said Munseer de I'Ail CRINOLINE. 65 ** Peraps they're ingaged at some boxing-match, or some (omhaw de cock" Munseer Jools sejested ; and the landlord egreed that was very likely. Instedd of English there was, however, plenty of foring sociaty, of every nation under the sun. Most of the noble- men were g'/eat hamatures of hale and porter. The table-cloth was marked over with brown suckles, made by the pewter-pots on that and the previous days. " It is the usage here," wrote Jools to his newspaper, " among the Anglais of the fashonne to absorb immense quan- tities of ale and jDorter during their meals. These stupefying, but cheap, and net unpalatable liquors are served in shining pewter vessels. A mug of foaming //(^r/^///^ (so a certain sort or beer is called) was placed by the side of most of the con- vives. I was disappointed of seeing Sir Peel : he was engaged to a combat of cocks which occurs at Windsor." Not one word of English was spoke during this dinner, excep when the gentlemen said " Garsong de Fafafiaf,'^ but Jooi was very much pleased to meet the elect of the foringers in town, and ask their opinion about the reel state of thinx. Was it likely that the bishops were to be turned out of the Chambre des Communes ? Was it true that Lor Palmerston had boxed with Lor Broghamm in the House of Lords, until they were sepparayted by the Lor Maire? Who was the Lor Maire ? Wasn't he Premier Minister ? and wasn't the Archeveque de Cantorbery a Quaker ? He got answers to these questions from the various gents round about during the dinner — -which, he remarked, was very much like a French dinner, only dirtier. And he wrote off all the infamation he got to his newspaper. " The Lord Maire, Lord Lansdowne, is Premier Ministre. His Grace has his dwelling in the City. The Archbishop of Cantabery is not turned Quaker, as some people stated. Qua- kers may not marr)', nor sit in the Chamber of Peers. The minor bishops have seats in the House of Commons, where they are attacked by the bitter pleasantries of Lord Brougham. A boxer is in the House ; he taught Palmerston the science of the pugilate, who conferred upon him the seat," &:c., &c. His writing hover, Jools came down and ad a gaym at pool with two Poles, a Bulgian, and 2 of his own countrymen. This being done amidst more hafanaf, without which nothink is done in England, and as there was no French play that night, he & the two French gents walked round and round Lester Squarr smoking segaws in the faces of other French gents who were smoaking 2. And they talked about the granjer of France and 66 I^O VELS B V EMINENT HANDS. the perfidgusness of England, and looked at the aluminated pictiir of Madame Wharton as IIaryadne)\ till bedtime. But befor he slep, he finished his letter you may be sure, and called it his " Fust Imprestiuns of Anglyterre." "Mind and wake me early," he said to Boots, the ony Brittish subject in the " Hotel de I'Ail," and who therefore didn't understand him. " I wish to be at Smithfield at 6 hours to see the men sell their wives y And the young roag fell asleep, thinking what sort of a one he'd buy. This was the way Jools passed his days, and got infamation about Hengland and the Henglish — walking round and round Lester Squarr all day, and every day with the same company, occasionally dewussified by an Oprer Chorus-singer or a Jew or two, and every afternoon in the Quadrant admiring the genteal sosiaty there. Munseer Jools was not over well funnisht with pocket-money, and so his pleasure was of the gratis sort cheafly. Well, one day as he and a friend was taking their turn among the aristoxy under the Quadrant — they were struck all of a heap by seeing — But, stop ! who was Jools's friend ? Here you have pictures of both — but the Istory of Jools's friend must be kep for another innings. 11. Not fur from that knowble and cheerfle Squear which Mun- seer Jools de Chacabac had selacted for his eboad in London — not fur, I say, from Lester Squarr, is a rainje of bildings called Pipping's Buildings, leading to Blue Lion Court, leading to St. Martin's Lane. You know Pipping's Buildings by its greatest ornament, an am and beefouce (where Jools has often stood admiring the degstaraty of the carver a-cuitin the varous jints), and by the little fishmungur's, where you remark the mouldy lobsters, the fly-blown picklesammon, the playbills, and the gingybear bottles in the window — abo\e all, by the " Con- stantinople " Divan, kep by tiie Misses Mordeky, and well known to every lover of " a prime sigaw and an exlent cup of reel Moky Coffy for 6^/." The Constantinople Divann is greatly used by the foring gents of Lester Squar. I never ad the good fortn to pass down Pipping's Buildings without seeing a haf a duzen of 'em on the threshole of the cxtablishmeiit, giving the street an t> CRINOLINE. 5- oppertunity of testing the odar of the Misses Mordeky's prime Avannas. Two or three mor may be visable inside, settn on the counter or the chestis, indulging in their fav'rit whead, the rich and spisy Pickwhick, the ripe Manilly, or the flagrant and arheumatic Qby. " These Divanns are, as is very well known, the knightly resott of the young Henglish nobillaty. It is ear a young Pier, after an arjus day at the House of Commons, solazes himself with a glas of gin-and-water (the national beveridge), with cheerful conversation on the ewents of the day, or with an arm- less gaym of baggytell in the back parlor." So wrote at least our friend Jools to his newspaper, the Iforri/latn ; and of this back parlor and baggytell-bord, of this counter, of this " Constantinople " Divan, he became almost as reglar a frequenter as the plaster of Parish Turk who sits smoking a hookey between the two blue coffee-cups in the winder. I have oftin, smokin my own shroot in silents in a corner of the Diwann, listened to Jools and his friends inwaying aginst Hingland, and boastin of their own immortial country. How they did go on about WelUntun, and what an arty con- tamp they ad for him ! — how they used to prove that France was the Light, the Scenter-pint, the Igsample and Hadmiration of the whole world ! And though I scarcely take a French paper nowadays (I lived in early days as groom in a French famly three years, and therefore knows the languidg), though, I say, you can't take up Jools's paper, the Orriflarn, without readin that a minister has committed bribery and perjury, or that a littery man has committed perjury and murder, or that a Duke has stabbed his wife in fifty places, or some story equally horrible ; yet for all that it's admiral to see how the French gents will swagger — how they will be the scenters of civiliza- tion — how they will be the Igsamples of Europ, and nothink shall prevent 'em — knowing they will have it, I say I listen, smokin my pip in silence. But to our tail. Reglar every evening there came to the " Constantanople " a young gent etired in the igth of fashn ; and indead present- ing by the cleanlyness of his appearants and linning (which was generally a pink or blew shurt, with a cricketer or a dan- suse pattern) rather a contrast to the dinjy and wistkcard sosiaty of the Diwann. As for wiskars, this young mann had none beyond a little yallow tought to his chin, which you woodn notas, only he was always pulling at it. His statue was dimin- pative, but his coschume supubb, for he had the tippiest Jane 68 A^O VhLS B V EMINENT HANDS. boots, the ivoryheadest canes, the most gawjus scarlick Jon- ville ties, and the most Scotch-plaidest trowseys, of any cus- tomer of that establishment. He was univusaly called Milord. " Qui est ^e jeune seigneur ? Who is this young hurl who comes knightly to the " Constantanople," who is so proddigl of his gold (for indeed the young gent would frequinly propoase gininwater to the company), and who drinks so much gin ? " asked Munseer Chacabac of a friend from the " Hotel de I'Ail." " His name is Lord Yardham," answ^ered that friend. " He never comes here but at night — and why } " " Y '^ " igsclaimed Jools, istonisht. " Why ? because he is engaygd all day — and do you know where he is engaygd all day .-' " "Where?" asked Jools. " At the Foring Office — fiow do you beginn to under- stand ? " — Jools trembled. He speaks of his uncle, the head of that office. — " Who is the head of that offis ? — Palmerston." " The nephew of Palmerston ! " said Jools, almost in a fit. "Lor Yardham pretends not to speak French," the other went on, " He pretends he can only say 7VL'e and commong porty voo. Shallow humbug ! — I have marked him during our conversations, — When we have spoken of the glory of France among the nations, I have seen his eye kindle, and his perfidi- ous lip curl with rage. When they have discussed before him, the Imprudents ! the affairs of Europe, and Raggybritchovich has shown us the next Circassian Campaign, or Sapousne has laid bare the plan of the Calabrian patriots for the next insur- rection, I have marked this stranger — this Lor Yardham. He smokes, 'tis to conceal his countenance ; he drinks gin, 'tis to hide his face in the goblet. And be sure, he carries every word of our conversation to the perfidious Palmerston, his uncle." " I will beard him in his den," thought Jools. " I will meet him corps-a-corps — tlie tyrant of Europe shall suffer through his nephew, and I will shoot him as dead as Dujarrier." When Lor Yardham came to the " Constantanople " that night, Jools i'd him savidgely from edd to foot, while Lord Yardham replied the same. It wasn't much for either to do — ncyther being more than 4 foot ten hi — Jools was a grannydear in his company of the Nashnal Gard, and was as brayv as a lion. " Ah, I'Angleterre, I'Angleterre, tu nous dois une revanche," CRINOLINE. 69 said Jools, crossing his arms and grinding his teeth at Lord Vardliam. "Wee," said Lord Yardham ; "wee." " Delenda est Carthap;o ! " howled out Jools. " Oh, wee," said the Erl of Yardham, and at the same mo- ment his glass of ginawater coming in, he took a drink, saying, " A voter santy, Munseer : " and then he offered it like a man of fashn to Jools. A light iDroak on Jools's mind as he igsepted the refreshmint. " Sapoase," he said, " instedd of slaughtering this nephew of the infamous Palmerston, I extract his secrets from him ; sup- pose I pump him — suppose I unveil his schemes and send them to my paper? La France may hear the name of Jools de Chacabac, and the star of honor may glitter on my bosom." So, axepting Lord Yardham's cortasy, he returned it by ordering another glass of gin at his own expence, and they both drank it on the counter, where Jools talked of the affaers of Europ all night. To everything he said, the Earl of Yardham answered, "Wee, wee ; " except at the end of the evening, when he squeeged his & and said, " Bong swore." " There's nothing like goin amongst 'em to cquire the reel pronounciation," his lordship said, as he let himself into his lodgings with his latch-key. " That was a very eloquent young gent at the ' Constantinople,' and I'll patronize him." " Ah, perfide, je te de'masquerai ! " Jools remarked to him- self as he went to bed in his " Hotel de I'Ail." And they met the next night, and from that heavning the young men were con- tinyually together. Well, one day, as they were walking in the Quadrant, Jools talking, and Lord Yardham saying, " Wee, wee," they were struck ail of a heap by seeing — ■ But my paper is igshosted, and I must dixcribe what they sor in the nex number. in. THE CASTLE OF THE ISLAND OF FOGO. The travler who pesews his dalitefle coarse through the fair rellum of Franse (as a great romantic landskippist and neam- sack of mind would say) never chaumed his i's with a site more lovely, orvu'd apallis more magnififiznt than that which was the 7° NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. buthplace of the Eroing of this Trew Tale. Phansy a country through whose werdant planes the selvery Garonne wines, like — like a benevvolent sarpent. In its plasid busum antient cassias, picturask willidges, and waving woods are reflected. Purple hills, crownd with inteak ruings ; rivvilets babbling through gentle greenwoods ; wight farm ouses, bevvy with hoverhanging vines, and from which the appy and peaseful okupier can cast his glans over goolden waving cornfealds, and M. Herald meddows in which the lazy cattle are graysinn ; while the sheppard, tending his snoughy iiox, wiles away the leisure mominx on his loot — these hoffer but a phaint pictur of the rurial felissaty in the midst of widge Crinoline and Hesteria de Viddlers were bawn. Their Par, the Marcus de Viddlers, Shavilear of the Legend of Honor and the Lion of Bulgum, the Golden Flease, Grand Cross of the Eflant and Castle, and of the Catinbagpipes of Hostria, Grand Chamberleng of the Crownd, and Major-Gen- aril of Hoss-Mareens, &c., &c., &c,, — is the twenty-foth or fith Marquis that has bawn the Tittle ; is disended lenyally from King Pipping, and has almost as antient a paddygree as any which the OUywell Street frends of the Member of Buckinum- sheer can supply. His Marchyniss, the lovely & ecomplisht Emily de St. Cornichon, quitted this mortial spear very soon after she had presented her lord with the two little dawling Cherrybins above dixcribed, in whomb, after the loss of that angle his wife, the disconslit widderer found his only jy on huth. In all his emuse- mints they ecumpanied him ; their edjacation was his sole bis- niss ; he atcheaved it with the assistnce of the ugliest and most lernid masters, and the most hidjus and egsimplary gov- ernices which money could procure. R, how must his peturnle art have bet, as these Budds, which he had nurrisht, bust into buty, and twined in blooming flagrance round his pirentle Eusm ! The villidges all round his hancestral Alls blessed the Marcus and his lovely hoffsprig. Not one villidge in their nay- brood but was edawned by their elygint benifisns, and where the inhabitnts wern't rendered appy. It was a pattern pheas- antry. All the old men in the districk were wertuous «& tocka- tive, and had red stockins and i-eeled drab shoes, and beautiful snowy air. All the old women had peaked ats, and crooked cains, and chince gowns tucked into the pockits of their quiltid petticoats ; they sat in picterask porches, pretendin to spinn, while the lads and lassis of the villidges danst under the heliums. O, tis a noble sight to whitniss that of an appy pheasantry 1 CRINOLINE. 71 Not one of those rustic wassals of the Ouse of Widdlers, but ad his air curled and his shirt-sleaves tied up with pink ribbing as he led to the macy dance some appy country gal, with a black velvit boddice and a redd or yaller petticoat, a hormylu cross on her neck, and a silver harrow in her air ! When the Marcus & ther young ladies came to the villidge it would have done the i's of the flanthropist good to see how all reseaved 'em ! The little children scattered calico flowers on their path, the snowy-aired old men with red faces and rinkles took off their brown paper ats to slewt the noble Mar- cus. Young and old led them to a woodn bank painted to look like a bower of roses, and when they were sett down danst ballys before them. O 'twas a noble site to see the Marcus too, smilin ell3'gint with fethers in his edd and all his stars on, and the young Marchynisses with their ploomes, and trains, and little coronicks ! They lived in tremenjus splendor at home in their pyturnle alls, and had no end of pallises, willers, and town and country resadences ; but their fayvorit resadence was called the Castle of the Island of Fogo. Add I the penn of the hawther of a Codlingsby himself, I coodn't dixcribe the gawjusness of their aboad. They add twenty-four footmen in livery, besides a boy in codroys for the knives & shoes. They had nine meels aday — Shampayne and pineapples were served to each of the young ladies in bed be- fore they got up. Was it Prawns, Sherry-cobbler, lobster-salids, or maids of honor, they had but to ring the bell and call for what they chose. They had two new dresses every day — one to ride out in the open carriage, and another to appear in the gardens of the Castle of the Island of Fogo, which were illumi- nated every night like Voxhall. The young noblemen of France were there ready to dance with them, and festif suppers con- cludid the jawyus night. Thus they lived in ellygant ratirement until Missfortune bust upon this happy fammaly. Etached to his Princes and abomma- nating the ojus LewyjDhlip, the Marcus was conspiring for the benefick of the helder branch of the Borebones — and what was the consquince ? — One night a fleat presented itself round the Castle of the Island of Fogo — and skewering only a couple of chests of jewils, the Marcus and the two young ladies in dis- gyise, fled from that island of bliss. And whither fled they ? — To England ! — England the ome of the brave, the refuge of the world, where the pore slave never setts his foot but he is free ! Such was the ramantic tail which was told to 2 friends of 72 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. ours by the Marcus de Viddlers himself, whose daughters, walking with their page from Ungerford Market (where they had been to purchis a paper of srimps for the umble supper of their noble father), Yardham and his equaintnce, Munseer Jools, had remarked and admired. But how had those two young Erows become equainted with the noble Marcus ? — That is a mistry we must elucydate in a futur vollam. THE STARS AND STRIPES. By the Authors of " The I.ast of the Mulligans," " Pilot," etc; I. The King of France was walking on the terrace of Ver- sailles ; the fairest, not only of Queens, but of women, hung fondly on the Royal arm ; while the children of France were indulging in their infantile hilarity in the alleys of the mag- nificent garden of Le Notre (from which Niblo's garden has been copied, in our own Empire city of New York), and playing at leap-frog with their uncle, the Count of Provence ; gaudy cour- tiers, emblazoned with orders, glittered in the groves, and murmured frivolous talk in the ears of high-bred beauty. " Maria, my beloved," said the ruler of France, taking out his watch, " 'tis time that the Minister of America should be here." " Your Majesty should know the time," replied Maria An- toinette, archly, and in an Austrian accent; "is not my Royal Louis the first watchmaker in his em^oire ? " The King cast a pleased glance at his repeater, and kissed with courtly grace the fair hand of her who had made him the compliment. " My Lord Bishop of Autun," said he to Monsieur de Talleyrand Pe'rigord, who followed the royal pair, in his quality of arch-chamberlain of the empire, " 1 pray you look through the gardens, and tell his Excellency Doctor Franklin that the King waits." The Bishop ran off, with more than youthful agility, to seek the United States' Minister. " These Republicans," he added, confidentially, and with something of a supercilious look, " are but rude courtiers, methinks." " Nay," interposed the lovely Antoinette, " rude courtiers, Sire, they may be ; but the world boasts not of more accom- plished gentlemen. I have seen no grandee of Versailles that has the noble bearing of this American envoy and his suite. (73) 74 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. They have the refinement of the Old World, with all the simple elegance of the New. Though they have perfect dignity of manner, they liave an engaging modesty which I have never seen equalled by the best of the proud English nobles with whom they wage war. I am told they speak their very language with a grace which the haughty Islanders who oppress them never attained. They are independent, yet never insolent ; elegant, yet always respectful ; and brave, but not in the least boastful." " What ! savages and all, Marie ? " exclaimed Louis, laugh' ing, and chucking the lovely Queen playfully under the royal chin. " But here comes Doctor Franklin, and your friend the Cacique with him." In fact, as the monarch spoke, the Minis- ter of the United States made his appearance, followed by a gigantic warrior in the garb of his native woods. Knowing his place as Minister of a sovereign state, (yield- ing even then in dignity to none, as it surpasses all now in dignity, in valor, in honesty, in strength, and civilization,) the Doctor nodded to the Queen of France, but kept his hat on as he faced the French monarch, and did not cease whittling the cane he carried in his hand. " I was waiting for you, sir," the King said, peevishly, in spite of the alarmed pressure which the Queen gave his royal arm. '* The business of the Republic, Sire, must take precedence even of your Majesty's wishes," replied Dr. Franklin. " When I was a poor printer's boy and ran errands, no lad could be more punctual than poor Ben Franklin ; but all other things must yield to the service of the United States of North America. I have done. What would you, Sire ? " and the intrepid re- publican eyed the monarch with a serene and easy dignity, which made the descendant of St. Louis feel ill at ease. " I wished to — to say farewell to Tatua before his departure," said Louis XVI., looking rather awkward. " Approach, Tatua." And the gigantic Indian strode up, and stood undaunted before the first magistrate of the French nation : again the feeble monarch quailed before the terrible simplicity of the glance of the denizen of the primaeval forests. The redoubted chief of the Nose-ring Indians was decorated in his war-paint, and in his top-knot was a peacock's feather, which had been given him out of the head-dress of the beautiful Princess of Lamballe. His nose, from which hung the orna- ment from which his ferocious tribe took its designation, was painted a light-blue, a circle of green and orange was drawn THE STARS AND STRIPES. 75 round each eye, while serpentine stripes of black, white, and vermilion alternately were smeared on his forehead, and de- scended over his cheek-bones to his chin. His manly chest was similarly tattooed and painted, and round his brawny neck and arms hung innumerable bracelets and necklaces of human teeth, extracted (one only from each skull) from the jaws of those who had fallen by the terrible tomahawk at his girdle. His moc- casins, and his blanket, which was draped on his arm and fell in picturesque folds to his feet, were fringed with tufts of hair - — the black, the gray, the auburn, the golden ringlet of beauty, the red lock from the forehead of the Scottish or the Northern soldier, the snowy tress of extreme old age, the flaxen do\yn of infancy — all were there, dreadful reminiscences of the chief's triumphs in war. The warrior leaned on his enormous rifle, and faced the King. " And it was with that carabine that you shot Wolfe in '57 ? " said Louis, eyeing the warrior and his weapon. " 'Tis a clumsy lock, and methinks I could mend it," he added mentally. " The chief of the French pale-faces speaks truth," Tatua said. " Tatua was a boy when he went first on the war-path with Montcalm." " And shot a Wolfe at the first fire ! " said the King. " The English are braves, though their faces are white," re- plied the Indian. " Tatua shot the raging Wolfe of the English ; but the other wolves caused the foxes to go to earth." A smile played round Dr. Franklin's lips, as he whittled his cane with more vigor than ever. " I believe, your Excellency, Tatua has done good service elsewhere than at Quebec," the King said, appealing to the American Envoy : " at Bunker's Hill, at Brandywine, at York Island ? Now that Lafayette and my brave Frenchmen are among you, your Excellency need have no fear but that the war will finish quickly — yes, yes, it will finish quickly. They will teach you discipline, and the way to conquer." " King Louis of France," said the Envoy, clapping his hat down over his head, and putting his arms a-kimbo, "we have learned that from the British, to whom we are superior in every- thing ; and I'd have your Majesty to knov/ that in the art of whipping the world we have no need of any French lessons. If your reglars jine General W^ashington, 'tis to larn from him how Britishers are licked ; for I'm blest \i yii know the way yet." Tatua said, "Ugh," and gave a rattle with the butt of his carabine, which made the timid monarch start ; the eyes of the lovely Antoinette flashed fire, but it played round the head of y 6 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HA NDS. the dauntless American Envoy harmless as the lightnmg which he knew how to conjure away. The King fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out a Cross of the Order of the Bath. " Your Excellency wears no honor," the monarch said ; " but Tatua, who is not a subject, only an ally, of the United States, may. Noble Tatua, I appoint you Knight Companion of my noble Order of the Bath. Wear this cross upon your breast in memory of Louis of France ; " and the King held out the decoration to the Chief. Up to that moment the Chief's countenance had been impas- sible. No look either of admiration or dislike had appeared upon that grim and war-painted visage. But now, as Louis spoke, Tatua's face assumed a glance of ineffable scorn, as, bending his head, he took the bauble. " I will give it to one of my squaws," he said. " The pa- pooses in my lodge will play with it. Come, Me'decine, Tatua will go and clrink fire-water;" and, shouldering his carabine, he turned his broad back without ceremony upon the monarch and his train, and disappeared down one of the walks of the garden. Franklin found him when his own interview with the French Chief Magistrate was over ; being attracted to the spot where the Chief was, by the crack of his well-known rifle. He was laughing in his quiet way. He had shot the Colonel of the Swiss Guards through his cockade. Three days afterwards, as the gallant frigate, the " Repu- diator," was sailing out of Brest Harbor, the gigantic form of an Indian might be seen standing on the binnacle in conversa- tion with Commodore Bowie, the commander of the noble ship. It was Tatua, the chief of the Nose-rings. IL Leatherlegs and Tom Coxswain did not accompany Tatua when he went to the Parisian metropolis on a visit to the father of the French pale-faces. Neither the legs nor the Sailor cared for the gayety and the crowd of cities ; the stout mariner's home was in the futtock-shrouds of the old " Repudiator." The stern and simple trapper loved the sound of the waters better than the jargon of the French of the old country. " I can follow the talk of a Pawnee," he said, "or wag my jaw, if so be necessity bids me to speak, by a Sioux's council-fire ; and I can patter THE STARS AND STRIPES. 77 Canadian French with the hunters who come for peltries to Nachitoches or Thichimuchimachy ; but from the tongue of a Frenchwoman, with white flour on her head, and war-paint on her face, the Lord deliver poor Natty Pumpo." " Amen and amen ! " said Tom Coxswain. " There was a woman in our aft-scuppers when I went a-whalin in the little ' Grampus' — and Lord love you, Pumpo, you poor land-swab, she was as pretty a craft as ever dowsed a tarpauling — there was a woman on board the ' Grampus,' who before we'd struck our first fish, or biled our first blubber, set the whole crew in a mu- tiny, I mind me of her now, Natty, — her eye was sich a pier- cer that you could see to steer by it in a Newfoundland fog ; her nose stood out like the 'Grampus's' jib-boom, and her woice, Lord love you, her woice sings in my ears even now : — it set the Captain a-quarrelin with the Mate, who was hanged in Boston harbor for harpoonin of his officer in Baffin's Bay ; — it set me and Bob Bunting a-pouring broadsides into each other's old timbers, whereas me and Bob was worth all the women that ever shipped a hawser. It cost me three years' pay as Fd stowed away for the old mother, and might have cost me ever so much more, only bad luck to me, she went and married a little tailor out of Nantucket ; and Fve hated women and tailors ever since ! " As he spoke, the hardy tar dashed a drop of brine from his tawny cheek, and once more betook himself to splice the taffrail. Though the brave frigate lay off Havre de Grace, she was not idle. The gallant Bowie and his intrepid crew made re- peated descents upon the enemy's seaboard. The coasts of Rutland and merry Leicestershire have still many a legend of fear to tell ; and the children of the British fishermen tremble even now when they speak of the terrible " Repudiator." She was the first of the mighty American war-ships that have taught the domineering Briton to respect the valor of the Republic. The novelist ever and anon finds himself forced to adopt the sterner tone of the historian, when describing deeds con- nected with his country's triumphs. It is well known that during the two months in which she lay off Havre, the " Re- pudiator" had brought more prizes into that port than had ever before been seen in the astonished French waters. Her ac- tions with the " Dettingen " and the " Elector " frigates form part of our country's history ; their defence — it may be said without prejudice to national vanit}^ — was worthy of Britons and of the audacious foe they had to encounter ; and it must be owned, that but for a happy fortune which presided on that 78 ^O VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. clay over the destinies of our country, the chance of the combat might have been in favor of the British vessels. It was not until the " Elector " blew up, at a quarter past three p. m., by a lucky shot which fell into her caboose, and communicated with tlie powder-magazine, that Commodore Bowie was enabled to lav himself on board the " Dettingen, " which he carried sword in hand. E\'en when the American boarders had made their lodgment on the " Dettingen's '' binnacle, it is possible that the battle would still have gone against us. The British were still seven to one : their carronades, loaded with marline-spikes, swept the gun-deck, of which we had possession, and decimated our little force ; when a rifle-ball from the shrouds of the " Repudiator" shot Captain Mumford under the star of the Guelphic Order which he wore, and the Americans, with a shout, rushed up the companion to the quarter-deck, upon the astonished foe. Pike and cutlass did the rest of the bloody work. Rumford, the gigantic first-lieutenant of the " Dettingen," was cut down by Commodore Bowie's own sword, as they .engaged hand to hand : and it was Tom Coxswain who tore down the British flag, after having slain the Englishman at the wheel. Peace be to the souls of the brave ! The com- bat was honorable alike to the victor^and the vanquished : and it never can be said that an American warrior depreciated a gallant foe. The bitterness of defeat was enough to the haughty islanders who had to suffer. The people of Heme Bay were lining the shore, near which the combat took place, and cruel must have been the pang to them when they saw the Stars and Stripes rise over the old flag of the Union, and the "Dettingen" fall down the river in tow of the Republican frigate. Another action Bowie contemplated ; the boldest and most daring perhaps ever imagined by seaman. It is this which has been so wrongly described by European annalists, and of which the British until now have maintained the most jealous secrecy. Portsmouth Harbor was badly defended. Our intelligence in that town and arsenal gave us precise knowledge of the dis- position of the troops, the forts, and the ships there ; and it was determined to strike a blow which should shake the Brit- ish power in its centre. That a frigate of the size of the "Repudiator" should enter the harbor unnoticed, or could escape its guns unscathed, passed the notions of even American temerity. But upon the memorable 26th of June, 1782, the "Repudiator " sailed out of THE STARS AND STRIPES 79 Havre Roads in a thick fog, under cover of which she entered and cast anchor in lionchurch Bay, in the Isle of Wight. To surprise the Martello Tower and take the feeble garrison thereunder, was the work of Tom Coxswain and a few of his blue-jackets. The surprised garrison laid down their arms before him. It was midnight before the boats of the ship, commanded by Lieutenant Bunker, pulled off from Bonchurch with mufifled oars, and in another hour were off the Common Hard of Ports- mouth, having passed the challenges of the " Thetis," the " Amphion " frigates, and the " Polyanthus " brig. There had been on that day great feasting and merri- ment on board the Flag-ship lying in the harbor. A banquet had been given in honor of the birthday of one of the princes of the royal line of the Guelphs — the reader knows the pro- pensity of Britons when liquor is in plenty. All on board that royal ship were more or less overcome. The Flag-ship was plunged in a death-like and drunken sleep. The very officer of the watch was intoxicated : he could not see the " Repudia- tor's " boats as they shot swiftly through the waters ; nor had he time to challenge her seamen as they swarmed up the huge sides of the ship. At the next moment Tom Coxswain stood at the wheel of the "Royal George " — the Briton who had guarded, a corpse at his feet. The hatches were down. The ship was in posses- sion of the " Repudiator's " crew. They were busy in her rig- ging, bending her sails to carry her out of the harbor. The well-known heave of the men at the windlass, woke up Kem- penfelt in his state cabin. We know, or rather do not know, the result ; for who can tell by whom the lower-deck ports of the brave ship were opened, and how the haughty prisoners below sunk the ship and its conquerors rather than yield her as a prize to the Republic ? Only Tom Coxswain escaped of victors and vanquished. His tale was told to the Captain and to the Congress, but Washington forbade its publication ; and it was but lately that the faithful seaman told it to me, his grandson, on his hundred- and-fifteenth birthday. 6 A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL. In a Letter frotn the eminent Dramatist Brown to the etninent Novelist Snooks. " Ca/e dess Aveugles. " My dear Snooks, " I AM on the look-out here for materials for original com- edies such as those lately produced at your theatre ; and, in the course of my studies, I have found something, my dear Snooks, which I think will suit your book. You are bringing, I see, your admirable novel, * The Mysteries of May Fair,' to an end— (by the way, the scene, in the 200th number, between the Duke, his Grandmother, and the Jesuit Butler, is one of the most harrowing and exciting I ever read) — and, of course, you must turn your real genius to some other channel; and we may expect that your pen shall not be idle. " The original plan I have to propose to you, then, is taken from the French, just like the original dramas above mentioned ; and, indeed, I found it in the law report of the National news- paper, and a French literary gentleman, M. Emanuel Gon- zales, has the credit of the invention. He and an advertisement agent fell out about a question of money, the affair was brought before the courts, and the little plot so got wind. But there is no reason why you should not take the plot and act on it your- self. You are a known man ; the public relishes your works ; anything bearing the name of Snooks is eagerly read by the masses ; and though Messrs. Hookey, of Holywell Street, pay you handsomely, 1 make no doubt you would like to be re- warded at a still higher figure. " l^nless he writes with a purpose, you know, a novelist in our days is good for nothing. This one writes with a socialist purpose ; that with a conservative purpose : this author^ or authoress with the most delicate skill insinuates Catholicism into you, and you find yourself all but a Papist in the third (80) to A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL. gi volume : another doctors you with Low Church remedies to work inwardly upon you, and which you swallow down unsus- piciously, as children do calomel in jelly. Fiction advocates all sorts of truth and causes — don't the delightful bard of the Minories find Moses in everything ? M. Gonzales's plan, and the one which I recommend to my dear Snooks, simply was to write an advertisement novel. Look over The Times or the ' Directory,' walk down Regent Street or Fleet Street any day — see what houses advertise most, and put yourself into communication with their proprietors. With your rings, your chains, your studs, and the tip on your chin, I don't know any greater swell than Bob Snooks. Walk into the shops, I say, ask for the principal, and introduce yourself, saying, ' I am the great Snooks ; I am the author of the " INIysteries of May Fair;" my weekly sale is 281,000; lam about to produce a new work called " The Palaces of Pimlico, or the Curse of the Court," describing and lashing fearlessly the vices of the aris- tocracy : this book will have a sale of at least 530,000 ; it will be on every table — in the boudoir of the pampered duke, as in the chamber of the honest artisan. The myriads of foreigners who are coming to London, and are anxious to know about our national manners, will purchase my book, and carry it to their distant homes. So, Mr. Taylor, or Mr. Haberdasher, or Mr. Jeweller, how much will you stand if I recommend you in my forthcoming novel ? ' You may make a noble income in this wav, Snooks. '' For instance, suppose it is an upholsterer. What more easy, what more delightful, than the description of upholstery ? As thus : — '''Lady Emily was reclining on one of Down and Eider's vokq^tuous ottomans, the only couch on which Eelgravian beauty now reposes, when Lord Bathershins entered, stepping noiselessly over one of Tomkins's elastic Axminster carpets. " Good heavens, my lord ! " she said — and the lovely creature fainted. The Earl rushed to the mantel-piece, where he saw a flacon of Otto's eau-de-Cologne, and,' «Scc. " Or say it's a cheap furniture-shop, and it may be brought in just as easy. As thus : — " ' We are poor, Eliza," said Harry Hardhand, looking affectionately at his wife, 'but we have enough, love, have we not, for our humble wants ? The rich and luxurious may go to Dillow's or Gobiggin's, but we can get our rooms comfortably furnished at Timmonson's for 20/.' And putting on her bon- net, and hanging affectionately on her husband, the stoker's 82 J^O VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. pretty bride tripped gayly to the well-known mart, where Tim- monson, with his usual affability, was ready to receive them. " Then you might have a touch at the wine-merchant and purveyor. ' Where did you get this delicious claret, qr/a/e d& foi gras, or what you please? ' said Count Blagowski to the gay young Sir Horace Swellmore. The voluptuous Bart answered, ' At So-and-so's, or So-and-So's.' The answer is obvious. You may furnish your cellar or your larder in this way. Begad, Snooks ! I lick my lips at the very idea ? " Then as to tailors, milliners, bootmakers, &c., how easy to get a word for them ! Amramson, the tailor, waited upon Lord Paddington with an assortment of his unrivalled waist- coats, or clad in that simple but aristocratic style of which Schneider alo7ie has the secret, Parvy Nevvcome really looked like a gentleman, and though corpulent and crooked, Schnei- der had managed to give him, &c. Don't you see what a stroke of business you might do in this way. " The shoemaker. — Lady Fanny flew, rather than danced, across the ball-room ; only a Sylphide, or Taglioni, or a lady chausseed by Chevillett of Bond Street, could move in that fairy way ; and " The hairdresser. — ' Count Barbarossa is seventy years of age,' said the Earl, ' I remember him at the Congress of Vienna, and he has not a single gray hair.' Wiggins laughed. ' My good Lord Baldock,' said the old wag, ' I saw Barbarossa's hair coming out of Ducroissant's shop, and under his valet's arm — ho ! ho ! ho ! ' — and the two hon-vivans chuckled as the Count passed by, talking with, &c., &c. "The gunmaker. — ' The antagonists faced each other; and undismayed before his gigantic enemy, Kilconnel raised his pistol. It was one of Clicker's manufacture, and Sir Marma- duke knew he could trust the maker and the weapon. " One, two, three" cried O'Tool, and the two pistols went off at that instant, and uttering a terrific curse, the Lifeguardsman,' &c. — A sentence of this nature from your pen, my dear Snooks, would, I should think, bring a case of pistols and a double-barrelled gun to your lodgings ; and, though heaven forbid you should use such weapons, you might sell them, you know, and we could make merry with the proceeds. " If my hint is of any use to you, it is quite at your service, deal Snooks ; and should anything come of it, I hope you will remj.nbcr your friend." THE DIARY OF C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ. WITH HIS LETTERS. THE DIARY / OF C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ. A LUCKY SPECULATOR. " Considerable sensation has been excited in the upper and lower circles in tha West End, by a startling piece of good fortune which has befallen James Plush, Esq., lately footman in a respected family in Berkeley Square. " One day last week, Mr. James waited upon his master, who is a banker in the City; and after a little blushing and hesitation, said he had saved a little money in service, was anxious to retire, and to invest his savings to advantage. " His master (we believe we may mention, without offending delicacy, the well- known name of Sir George Flimsy, of the house of Flimsy, Diddler, and Flash,) smilingly asked Mr. James what was the amount of his savings, wondering considera- bly how, out of an income of thirty guineas — the main part of which he spent in bouquets, silk stockings, and perfumery — Mr. Plush could have managed to lay by anything. " Mr. Plush, with some hesitation, said he had been speculating in railroad}, and stated his winnings to have been thirty thousand pounds. He had commenced his speculations with twenty, borrowed from a fellow-servant. He had dated his letters from the house in Berkeley Square, and humbly begged pardon of his master for not having instructed the railway Secretaries who answered his applications to apply at the area-bell. " Sir George, who was at breakfast, instantly rose, and shook Mr. P. by the hand ; Lady Flimsy begged him to be seated, and partake of the breakfast which he had laid on the table ; and has subsequently invited him to her grand dcjciincr at Rich- mond, where it was observed that Miss Emily Flimsy, her beautiful and accomplished seventh daughter, paid the lucky gentleman marked attention. " We hear it stated that Mr. P. is of a very ancient family (Hugo de la Pluche came over with the Conqueror) ; and the new brougham which he has started bears the ancient coat of his race. " He has taken apartments in the Albany, and is a director of thirty-three railroads. He proposes to stand for parliament at the next general election on decidedly con- servative principles, which have always been the politics of his family. " Report says, that even in his humble capacity Miss Emily Flimsy had remarked his high demeanor. Well, ' None but the brave,' say we, ' deserve the fair.' '' — Morti' ing Paper. This announcement will explain the following lines, which have been put into our box* with a West End post-mark. If, * The letter-box of Mr. Putuk, in whose columns these papers were first published. (85) 86 THE DIARY OP as we believe, they are written by the young woman from whom the millionaire borrowed the sum on which he raised his for- tune, what heart will not melt with sympathy at her tale, and pity the sorrows which she expresses in such artless language ? If it be not too late ; if wealth have not rendered its pos- sessor callous ; if poor Maryanne be still alive ; we trust, we trust Mr. Plush will do her justice. "JEAMES OF BUCKLEY SQUARE. "a heligy. " Come all ye gents vot cleans the plate, Come all ye ladies' maids so fair — Vile I a story vil relate Of cruel yeames of Buckley Square. A tighter lad, it is confest, Neer valked with powder in his air, Or vore a nosegay in his breast, Than andsum Jeames of Buckley Squar«, " O Evns ! it vas the best of sights, Behind his Master's coacii and pair, To see our Jeames in red plush tights, A driving hoff from Buckley Square. He vel became his hagwilletts, He cocked his at with such a hair ; His calves and viskers vas such pets, That hall loved Jeames of Buckley Square. " He pleased the hup-stairs folks as veil, And o ! I vithered vith despair. Missis voiild ring the parler bell, And call up Jeames in Buckley Square. Both beer and sperrits he abhord (Sperrits and beer I can't a bear), You would have thought he vas a lord Down in our All in Buckley Square. " Last }-ear he visper'd, ' Mary Ann, Ven I've an under' d pound to spare, To take a public is my plan, And leave this hojous Buckley Square. O how my gentle heart did bound. To think that I his name should bear. * Dear Jeames,' says I, ' I've twenty pound,' And gev them him at Buckley Square. " Our Master vas a City gent, His name's in railroads everywhere, And lord, vot lots of letters vent Bctwigst his brokers and Buckley Square I My Jeames it was the letters took, And read them all, (1 think it's fair,) And took a leaf from Master's book, As holhers do in Buckley Square. C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 87 " Encouraged with my twenty pound Of which poor / was unavare, He wrote the Companiei all round. And signed hisself from Buckley Square. And how John Porter used to grin, As day isy day, share after share, Came railvay letters pouring in, ' J. Plush, Esquire, in Buckley Square.' *' Our servants' All was in a rage — Scrip, stock, curves, gradients, bull and bear, Vith butler, coachman, groom and page, Vas all the talk in Buckley Square. But O ! imagine vot I felt Last Vensday veek as ever were ■; I gits a letter, which 1 spelt ' Miss M. A. Hoggins, Buckley Square.' " He sent me back my money true — He sent me back my lock of air, And said, ' My dear, 1 bid ajew To Mary Hann and Buckley Square^ Think not to marry, foolish Hann, With people who your betters are ; James Plush is now a gentleman, And you — a cook in Buckley Square. " ' I've thirty thousand guineas won. In six short months, by genus rare ', You little thought what jeames was on, Poor Mary Hann, in Buckley Square. I've thirty thousand guineas net. Powder and plush I scorn to vear ; And so. Miss Mary Hann, forget For hever Jeames, of Buckley Square.' " ***** The rest of the MS. is illegible, being literally washed away in a flood of tears. A LETTER FROM "JEAMES, OF BUCKLEY SQUARE." " Albany, Letter X. August 10, 1845. " Sir, — Has a reglar snscriber to your emusing paper, I beg leaf to state that I should never have done so, had I sup- posed that it was your abbit to igspose the mistaries of privit life, and to hinjer the delligit feelings of umble individyouals like myself, who have no ideer of being made the subject of newspaper criticism. " I elude, sir, to the unjustafiable use which has been made of my name in your Journal, where both my muccantile spec- lations and the hiniiiost pashsn of my art have been brot for- rards in a ridicklus way for the public emusemint. "What call, sir, has the public to inquire into the suckm- 88 THE DIARY OF stansies of my engagements with Miss Mary Hann Oggins, ot lo meddle with their rupsher ? Why am I to be maid the hobjick of your redicide in a doggril ballii impewted to her ? I say ijiipezvfed, because, in viy time at least, Mary Hann could only sign her -j- i^i^rk (has I've hoften witnist it for her when she paid hin at the Savings bank), and has for sacrifcing to the Mewses and making poafry, she was as Jiincapible as Mr. Wakley himself. " With respect to the ballit, my baleaf is, that it is wrote by a footman in a low famly, a pore retch who attempted to rivle me in my affections to Mary Hann — a feller not five foot six, and with no more calves to his legs than a donkey — who was always a-ritin (having been a doctor's boy) and who I nockt down with a pint of porter (as he well recklex) at the 3 Tuns Jerming Street, for daring to try to make a but of me. He has signed Miss H's name to his Jwnsince and lies: and you lay yourself hopen to a haction for lible for insutting them in your paper. " It is false that I have treated Miss H. hill in liany way, Tliat I borrowed aolb of her is ire^a. But she confesses I paid it back. Can hall people say as much of the money they've lent or borrowed ? No. And I not only paid it back, but giv her the andsomest pres'nts : which Inerer should have eluded to, but for this attack. Fust, a silver thimble (which I found in Missus's work-box) ; secknd, a vollom of Byrom's poems ; third, I halways brought her a glas of Curasore, when we ad a party, of which she was remarkable fond. I treated her to Hashley's twice (and halways a srimp or a hoyster by the way), and a thowsnd dcligit attentions, which I sapose count for nothink. " Has for marridge. Haltered suckmstancies rendered it himpossable. I was gone into a new spear of life — mingling with my native aristoxy. I breathe no sallible of blame against Miss H., but his a hilliterit cookmaid fit to set at a fashnable table ? Do young fellers of rank genrally marry out of the Kitching ? If we cast our i's upon a low-born gal, I needn say it's only a tempory ^\s\.xz.Q.\AOVi, pore pas sy le long. So much for he}' claims upon me. Has for that bcest of a Doctor's boy he's unwuthy the notas of a Gentleman. " That I've one thirty thousand lb, and praps more, I dont deny. Ow much has the Kilossus of Railroads one, I should like to know, and what was his cappitle ? I hentered the market with 2olb, specklated Jewdicious, and ham what I ham. So may you be if you have 2olb, and praps you haven't) — So may you be : if you choose to go in & win. C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 89 u I for my part am 'yx&Xy prowd oi my suxess, and could give you a hundred instances of my gratatude. For igsample, the fust pair of hosses I bought (and a better pair of steppers I dafy you to see in hany curracle), I crisn'd Hull and Selby, in grateful elusion to my transackshns in that railroad. INIy riding Cob I called very unhaptly my Dublin and Galway. He came down with me the other day, and I've jest sold him at ^ dis- count. "At fust with prudence and modration I only kep two grooms for my stables, one of whom lickwise wai^ted on me at table. I have now a confidenshle servant, a vally de shamber — He curls my air; inspex my accounts, and hansers my hinvitations to dinner. I call this vally my Trent Valley, for it was the prophit I got from that exlent line, which injuiced me to ingage him. " Besides my North British Plate and breakfast equipidge — I have two handsom suvvices for dinner — the goold plate for Sundays, and the silver for common use. When I ave a great party, ' Trent,' I say to my man, 'we will have the London and Bummingham plate to-day (the goold), or else the Manchester and Leeds (the silver).' I bought them after realizing on the abuf lines, and if people sujjpose that the companys made me a presnt of the plate, how can I help it ? " In the sam way I say, ' Trent, bring us a bottle of Bristol and Hexeter ! ' or, ' Put some Heastern Counties in hice ! ' He knows what I mean : it's the wines I bought upon the hospi- cious tummination of my connexshn with those two railroads. " So strong, indeed, as this abbit become, that being asked to stand Godfather to the youngest Miss Diddle last weak, I had her christened (provisionally) Rosamell — from the French line of which I am Director ; and only the other day, finding myself rayther unwell, ' Doctor,' says I to Sir Jeames Clark, ' I've sent to consult you because my Midlands are out of border ; and I want you to send them up to a premium.' The Doctor lafd, and I beleave told the story subsquintly at Buckinum P-ll-s. " But I will trouble you no father. My sole objict in writ- ing has been to clear my carrater — to show that I came by my money in a honrable way : that I'm not ashaymd of the manner in which I gayned it, and ham indeed grateful for my good fortune. " To conclude, I have ad my podigree maid out at the Erald Hoffis (I don't nx^zxvXho. Morning Erald\ and have took for my arms a Stagg. You are corrict in stating that I am of ga THE DIARY OF hancient Normin famly. Tliis is more than Peal can say, to whomb I applied for a barnetcy ; but the primmier being of low igstraction, natrally stickles for his border. Consurvative though I be, I may change viy ophiions before the next Election, when I intend to hoffer myself as a Candydick for Parlymint. '* Meanwhile, I have the honor to be, Sir, " Your most obeajnt Survnt, " Fitz-James de la Pluche." C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. gt THE DIARY. One day in the panic week, our friend Jeames called at our office, evidently in great perturbation of mind and disorder of dress. He had no flower in his button-hole ; his yellow kid gloves were certainly two days old. He had not above three of the ten chains he usually sports, and his great coarse knotty- knuckled old hands were deprived of some dozen of the rubies, emeralds, and other cameos with which, since his elevation to fortune, the poor fellow has thought fit to adorn himself. " How's scrip, Mr. Jeames ? " said we pleasantly, greeting our esteemed contributor. " Scrip be ," replied he, with an expression we cannot repeat, and a look of agony it is impossible to describe in print, and walked about the parlor whistling, hummmg, rattling his keys and coppers, and showing other signs of agitation. At last, '■'• Mr. jPitnch" says he, after a moment's hesitation, "I wish to speak to j'ou on a pint of businiss. I wish to be paid for my contribewtions to your paper. Suckmstances is altered with me. I — I — in a word, can you lend me — /. for the ac- count ? " He named the sum. It was one so great that we don't care to mention it here ; but on receiving a check for the amount (on Messrs. Pump and Aldgate, our bankers), tears came into the honest fellow's eyes. He squeezed our hand until he nearly wrung it off, and shouting to a cab, he plunged mto it at our office-door, and was off to the City. Returning to our study, we found he had left on our table an open pocket-book, of the contents of which (for the sake of safety) we took an inventory. It contained — three tavern-bills, paid ; a tailor's ditto, unsettled ; forty-nine allotments in differ- ent companies, twenty-six thousand seven hundred shares in all, of which the market value we take, on average, to be }( dis- count ; and in an old bit of paper tied with pink ribbon a lock of chestnut hair, witn the initials M. A, H, In the diary of the pocket-book was a journal, jotted down by the proprietor from time to time. At first the entries are in- 92 THE DIARY OF significant : as, for instance ; — "3(/ jfajuiary — Our beer in the Suvnts' Hall so precious small at this Christmas time that I reely muss give warning, & wood, but for my dear Mary Hann." " February 7 — That broot Screw, the Butler, wanted to kis her, but my dear Mary Hann boxt his hold hears, & served him right. I dates f Screw," — and so forth. Then the diary relates to Stock Exchange operations, until we come to the time when, having achieved his successes, Mr. James quitted Berkeley Square and his liver}', and began his life as a speculator and a gentle- man upon town. It is from the latter part of his diary that we make the followmg EXTRAX :— '' Wen I anounced in the Servnts All my axeshn of forting, and that by the exasize of my own talince and ingianiuty I had reerlized a summ of 20,000 lb. (it was only 5, but what's the use of a mann depreshiating the qualaty of his own mackyrel i") — wen I enounced my abrup intention to cut — you should have sean the sensation among hall the people ! Cook wanted to know whether I woodn like a sweatbred, or the slise of the breast of a Cold Tucky. Screw, the butler (womb I always detested as a hinsalant hoverbaring beest), begged me to walk into the Hupper Servnts All, and try a glass of Shuperior Shatto Margo. Heven Visp, the coachmin, eld out his and, & said, 'Jeames, I hopes theres no quarraling betwigst you & me, & I'll stand a pot of beer with pleasure.' " The sickofnts ! — that wery Cook had split on me to the Housekeeper ony last week (catchin me priggin some cold tuttle soop, of which I'm remarkable fond). Has for the butler, I always eliomtu i/iated h'xm iox his precious snears and imper- ence to all us Gents who woar livry (he never would sit in our parlor, fasooth, nor drink out of our mugs) ; and in regard of Visp — why, it was ony the day before the wulgar beest hoffered to fite me, and thretnd to give me a good iding if I refused. ' Gentlemen and ladies,' says I, as haughty as may be, ' there's nothink that I want for that I can't go for to buy with my hown money, and take at my lodgins in Halbany, letter Hex ; if I'm ungry I've no need to refresh myself in the kitchiug.^ And so saying, I took a dignified ajew of these minnial domestics ; and ascending to my epartment in the 4 pair back, brushed the powder out of my air, and taking off those hojous livries for hever, put on a new soot, made for me by CuUin of St. Jeames Street, and which fitted my manly figger as tight as whacks. C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 93 " There was one pusson in the house with womb I was rayther anxious to evoid a persnal leave-taking — Mary Hann Oggins, I mean — for my art is natural tender, and I can't abide seeing a pore gal in pane. I'd given her previous the infamation of my departure — doing the ansom thing by her at the same time—- paying her back 20 lb., which she'd lent me 6 months before : and paying her back not only the interest, but I gave her an andsome pair of scissars and a silver thimbil^ by way of boanus. ' Mary Hann,' says I, suckimstancies has altered our rellatif positions in life. I quit the Servnts Hall forever, ("for has for your marrying a person in my rank, that, my dear, is hall gammin,) and so I wish you a good-by, my good gal, and if you want to better yourself, halways refer to me.' " Mary Hann didn't hanser my speech (which I think was remarkable kind), but looked at me in the face quite wild like, and bust into somethink betwigst a laugh & a cry, and fell down with her ed on the kitching dresser, where she lay until her young Missis rang the dressing-room bell. Would you bleave it .'' She left the thimbil & things, & my check for 2olb. 10s., on the tabil when she went to hanser the bell. And now I heard her sobbing and vimpering in her own room nex but one to mine, vith the dore open, peraps expecting I should come in and say good-by. But, as soon as I was dressed, I cut down stairs, hony desiring Frederick, my fellow-servnt, to fetch me a cabb, and requesting permission to take leaf of my lady & the famly before my departure." ***** '• How Miss Hemly did hogle me to be sure ! Her ladyship told me what a sweet gal she was — hamiable, fond of poetry, plays the gitter. Then she hashed me if I liked blond bewties and haubin hair. Haubin, indeed ! I don't like carrits ! as it must be confest Miss Hemly's his — and has for a blond huty, she has pink I's like a Halbino, and her face looks as if it were dipt in a brann mash. How she squeeged my & as she went away ! " Mary Hann now has haubin air, and a cumplexion like roses and hivory, and I's as blew as Evin. " I gev Frederick two and six for fetchin the cabb — been resolved to hact the gentleman in hall things. How he stared ! " " 25//;. — I am now director of forty-seven hadvantageous lines, and have past hall day in the Citty. Although I've hate or nine new soots of close, and Mr. Cullin fits me heligant, yet I fansy they hall reckonize me. Conshns whispers to me, 'Jeams, you'r hony a footman in disguise hafter all.'" 94 THE DIARY OF " 2'?>th. — Been to the Hopra. Music tol lol. That Lablash is a wopper at singing. I coodn make out why some people called out ' Bravo,' some ' Bravar,' and some ' Bravee.' 'Bra- vee, Lablash,' says I, at which heverybody laft. " I'm in my new stall. I've had new cushings put in, and my harms in goold on the back. I'm dressed all in black, excep a gold waistcoat and dimind studds in the embriderd busom of my shameese. I wear a Camallia Jiponiky in my button-ole, and have a double-barreld opera-glas, so big, that I make Timmins, my secnd man, bring it in the other cabb. " What an igstronry exabishn that Pawdy Carter is ! If those four gals are faries, Tellioni is sutnly the fairy Queend. She can do all that they can do, and somethink they can't. There's an indiscrible grace about her, and Carlotty, my sweet Carlotty, she sets my art in flams. " Ow that Miss Hemly was noddin and winkin at me out of their box on the fourth tear .-• " What linx i's she must av. As if I could mount up there ! " P.S. — Talking of viounting hup ! the St. Helena's walked up 4 per cent, this very day." " 2d jfuly. — Rode my bay oss Desperation in the park. There was me, Lord George Ringwood (Lord Cinqbar's son), Lord Ballybunnion, Honorable Capting Trap, & sevral bother young swells. Sir John's carridge there in coarse. Miss Hemly lets fall her booky as I pass, and I'm obleged to get hoff and pick it hup, & get splashed up to the his. The gettin on hossback agin is halways the juice & hall. Just as I was hon, Desperation begins a porring the hair with his 4 feet, and sinks down so on his anches, that I'm blest if I didn't slip hoff agin over his tail ; at which Ballybunnion & the bother chaps rord with latter. " As Bally has istates in Queen's County, I've put him on the St. Helena direction. We call it the ' Great St. Helena Napoleon Junction,' from Jamestown to Longwood. The French are taking it hup heagerly." " 6th July. — Dined to-day at the London Tavin with one of the Welsh bords of Direction I'm hon. The Cwrwmwrw & Plmwyddlywm, with tunnils through Snowding and Plinlim- ming. " Great nashnallity of course. Ap Shinkin in the chair, Ap Llwydd in the vice ; Welsh mutton for dinner ; Welsh iroT knives & forks ; Welsh rabbit after dinner,- and a Vv'elf^ C. JEAMES DELA PLUCHE. g^ harper, be hanged to him : he went strummint on his hojous hinstrument, and played a toon piguliarly disagreeable to me< " It was Pore Mary Hann. The clarrit holmost choaked me as I tried it, and I very nearly wep myself as I thought of her bewtifle blue i's. Why ham I always thinkin about that gal ? Sasiety is sasiety, it's lors is irresistabl. Has a man of rank I can't marry a serving-made. What would Cinqbar and Ballybunnion say ? " P. S. — I don't like the way that Cinqbars has of borroing money, & halways making me pay the bill. Seven pound six at the ' Shipp,' Grinnidge, which I don't grudge it, for Derby- shire's brown Ock is the best in Urup ; nine pound three at the ' Trafifiygar,' and seventeen pound sixteen and nine at the ' Star and Garter,' Richmond, with the Countess St. Emilion & the Baroness Frontignac. Not one word of French could I speak, and in consquince had nothink to do but to make myself halmost sick with heating hices and desert, while the bothers were chattering and parlyvooing. " Ha ! I remember going to Grinnidge once with Mary Hann, when we were more happy (after a walk in the park, where we ad one gingy-beer betwigst us), more appy with tea and a simple srimp than with hall this splender ! " " jFidy 24. — My first-floor apartmince in the Halbiny is now kimpletely and chasely furnished — the droring-room with yellow satting and silver for the chairs and sophies — hemrall green tabbinet curtings with pink velvet & goold borders & fringes ; a light-blue Haxminster Carpit, embroydered with tulips; tables, secritairs, cunsoles, &c., as handsome as goold can make them, and candlesticks and shandalers of the purest Hormolew. " The Dining-room furniture is all hoak, British Hoak ; round igspanding table, like a trick in a Pantimime, iccomma- dating any number from 8 to 24 — to which it is my wish to re- strict my parties. Curtings crimsing damask. Chairs crimsing myrocky. Portricks of my favorite great men decorats the wall — namely, the Duke of Wellington. There's four of his Grace. For Pve remarked that if you wish to pass for a man of weight and considdration you should holways praise and quote him. I have a valluble one lickwise of my Queend, and 2 of Prince Halbert — has a Field Martial and halso as a privat Gent. I despise the vulvar svear<; that are daily hullered aginst that Igsoked Pottenlat. Betwigxt '"'-e Prins & the Duke hangs me, ^6 THE DIARY OF in the Uniform of the Cinqbar Malitia, of which Cinqbars has made me Capting. " The Libery is not yet done. " But the Bedd-roomb is the Jem of the whole. If you could but see it! such a Bedworr ! I've a Shyval Dressing Glass festooned with VValanseens Lace, and lighted up of even- ings with rose-colored tapers. Goold dressing-case and twilet of Dresding Cheny. ]\Iy bed white and gold with curtings of pink and silver brocayd held up a top by a goold Qpld who seems always a smilin angillicly hon me, as I lay with my Ed on my piller hall sarounded with the finest Mechlin. I have a own man, a yuth under him, 2 groombs, and a fimmale for the House. I've 7 osses : in cors if I hunt this winter I must in- crease my ixtablishment. " N.B. Hevery think looking well in the City. Saint Hel- nas, 12 pm. ; Madagascars, 9^^^ ; Saffron Hill and Rookery Junction, 24 ; and the new lines in prospick equily incouraging. " People phansy it's hall gayety and pleasure the life of us fashnabble gents about townd — But I can tell 'em it's not hall goold that glitters. They don't know our momints of hagony, hour ours of studdy and reflecshun. They little think when they see Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, worling round in a walce at Halmax with Lady Hann, or lazaly stepping a kidrill with Lady Jane, poring helegant nothinx into the Countess's hear at dinner, or gallopin his boss Desperation hover th.e exorcisin ground in the park, — they little think that leader ot the tong, seaminkly so reckliss, is a careworn mann ! and yet so it is. " Imprymus. I've been ableged to get up all the econi- plishments at double quick, & to apply myself with treemen- juous energy. " First, — in border to give myself a hideer of what a gentle- man reely is, I've read the novvle of ' Pelham ' six times, and am to go through it 4 times mor. " I practis rid in and the acquirement of ' a steady and & a sure seat across Country' assijuously 4 times a week, at the Hippydrum Riding Grounds. Many's the tumbil I've ad, and the aking boans I've suffered from, though I was grinnin in the Park or laffin at the Opra. " Every morning from 6 till 9, the innabitance of Halbany may have been surprised to hear the sounds of music ishuing from the apartmince of Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, Letter Hex. It's my dancing-master. From six to nine v.e i^nve C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. q^ wakes ana policies — at nine * mangtiang & depotment,' as he calls it ; & the manner of hentering a room, complimenting the ost and ostess & compotting yourself at table. At nine I hen- ter from my dressing-room (has to a party), I make my bow — ■ my master (he's a Marquis in France, and ad misfortins, being connected with young Lewy Nepoleum) reseaves me — I had- wance — speak abowt the weather & the toppix of the day in an elegant & cussory manner. Brekfst is enounced by Fitzwar- ren, my mann — we precede to the festive bord — complimence is igschanged with the manner of drinking wind, adressing your neighbor, employing your napking & finger-glas, &c. And then we fall to brekfst, when I prommiss you the Marquis don't eat like a commoner. He says I'm gettn on very well — soon I shall be able to inwite people to brekfst, like Mr. Mills, my rivle in Halbany ; Mr. Macauly, (who wrote that sweet book of ballets, ' The Lays of Hancient Rum ; ') & the great Mn Rodgers himself. a The above was wrote some weeks back. I have given brekfsts sins then, reglar Deslmnys. I have ad Earls and Vcounts — Barnits as many as I chose : and the pick of the Railway world, of which I form a member. Last Sunday was a grand Fate. I had the Elect of my friends : the display was sumptions ; the company reshershy. Everything that Dellixy could suggest was provided by Gunter. I had a Countiss on my right & (the Countess of Wiggle sbury, that loveliest and most dashing of Staggs, who may be called the Railway Queend, as my friend George H is the Railway King,) on my left the Lady Blanche Bluenose, Prince Towrowski, the great Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone from the North, and a skoar of the fust of the fashn. I was in my gloary — the dear Countess and Lady Blanche was dying with lafiEing at my joax and fun — I was keeping the whole table in a roar — when there came a ring at my door-bell, and sudnly Fitzwarren, my man, hunters with an air of constanation. Theres somebody at the door,' says he, in a visper. "'Oh, it's that dear Lady Hemily,' says I, 'and that lazy raskle of a husband of hers. Trot them in, Fitzwarren,' (for you see, by this time I had adopted quit€ the manners and hease of the arristoxy.) — And so, going out, with a look of wonder he returned presently, enouncing Mr. & Mrs, Blodder. " I turned gashly pail. The table — the guests — the Coun- tiss — Towrouski, and the rest, weald round & round before my iHi^ilated I's. Jt ii>as viy Graiidtuofher a>idVL\x\\(z\Q^ii\. Sh.perdidgiis appatite. Like- wise we were charged with a bran new Medsan chest for my lady, from Skivary & Morris, containing enough rewbub, Daffy's Alixir, Godfrey's cawdle, with a few score of parsles for Lady Hangelina's family and owsehold ; about 2000 spessy- mins of Babby linning from Mrs. Flummary's in Regent Street, a Chayny Cresning bowl from old Lady Bareacres (big enough to immus a Halderman), & a case marked ' Glass,' from her ladyship's meddicle man, which were stowed away together j had to this an ormylew Cradle, with rose-colored Satting & Pink lace hangings, held up by a gold tuttle-dove, &c. We had, in- gluding James Hangelo's rattle & my umbrellow, 73 packidges in all. " We got on very well as far as Swmdon, where, in the Splendid Refreshment room, there was a galaxy of lovely gals in cottn velvet spencers, who serves out the scop, and i of whom maid an impresshn upon this Art which I shoodn't like Mary Hann to know — and here, to our infanit disgust, we changed carridges. I forgot to say that we were in the secknd class, having with us James Hangelo, and 23 other light harticles. " Fust inconveniance ; and almost as bad as break of gage. I cast my hi upon the gal in cottn velvet, and wanted some soop, of coarse ; but seasing up James Hangelo (who was layin his dear little pors on an Am Sangwidg) and seeing my igspresshn of hi — ' James,' says Mary Hann, ' instead of looking at that young lady — and not so very young, neither — be pleased to look to our packidges, & place them in the other carridgc' I did so with an evy Art. I eranged them 23 articles in the opsit carridg, only missing my umberella & baby's rattle ; and just as I came back for my baysn of soop, the beast of a bell rings, the whizzling injians proclayms the time of our depart- ure. — & farewell soop and cottn velvet. Mary Hann was sulky. She said it was my losing the umberella. If it had been a iOttoJi velvet umberella I could have understood. James Hangelo sittn on my knee was evidently unwell ; without his coral : & for 20 miles that blessid babby kep up a rawring, which caused all the passingers to simpithize with him igseedingly. " We arrive at Gloster, and there fansy my disgust at bein ableeged to undergo another change of carridges ! Fancy me holding up moughs, tippits, cloaks, and bask its, and James Hangelo rawring still like mad, and pretending to shuperintend 134 LETTERS OF JEAMES. the carrying over our luggage from the broad gage to the narrow gage. ' Mary Hann/ says I, rot to desperation, ' I shall throttle this darling if he goes on.' ' Do,' says she — ' and ^0 into the 7-efrcshment room, says she — a snatchin the babby out of my arms. ' Do go,' says she, 'youre not fit to look after higgage,' and she began lulling James Hangelo to sleep with one hi, while she looked after the packets with the other. ' Now Sir ! if you please, mind that packet ! — pretty darling — easy with that box. Sir, its glass — pooooty poppet — where's the deal case, marked arrowroot, No. 24? ' she cried, reading out of a list she had. — And poor little James went to sleep. The porters were bundling and carting the various harticles with no more ceremony than if each package had been of cannon-ball. « "At last--bang goes a package marked ' Glass,' and con- taining the Chayny bowl and Lady Bareacres' mixture, into a large white bandbox, with a crash and a smash. ' It's My Lady's box from Crinoline's ! ' cries Mary Hann ; and she puts down the child on the bench, and rushes forward to inspect the dammidge. You could hear the Chayny bowls clinking inside ; and Lady B.'s mixture (which had the igsack smell of cherry brandy) was dribbling out over the smashed bandbox contain- ing a white child's cloak, trimmed with Blown lace and lined with white satting. " As James was asleep, and I was by this time uncommon hungry, I thought I uiotild go into the Refreshment Room and just take a little soup ; so I wrapped him up in his cloak and laid him by his mamma, and went off. There's not near such good attendance as at Swindon. " We took our places in the carnage in the dark, both of us covered with a pile of packages, and Mary Hann so sulky that she would not speak for some minutes. At last she spoke out — " ' Have you all the small parcels ? " 'Twenty-three in all,' says L " * Then give me the baby.' ** * Give you what ? ' says I. " * Give me the baby.' " ♦ What, haven't y-y-yoooo got him ? ' says L ******* " O Mussy ! You should have heard her sreak I We'd left him oil t/ic ledge at Glosicr. " It all came of the break of gage." MR. JEAMES AGAIN. 13^ MR. JEAMES AGAIN. " Dear Mr. Punch, — As newmarus inquiries have been maid both at my privit ressddence, ' I'he Wheel of Fortune Otel,' and at your Hoffis, regarding the fate of that dear babby, James Hangelo, whose primmiture dissappearnts caused such hagnies to his distracted parents, I must begg, dear sir, the permission to oclcupy a part of your valublecollams once more, and hease the public mind about my blessid boy. " Wictims of that nashnal cuss, the Broken Gage, me and Mrs. Plush was left in the train to Cheltenham, soughring from that most disagreeble of complaints, a halmost broken Art. The skreems of Mrs. Jeames might be said almost to out-Y the squeel of the dying, as we rusht into that fashnable Spaw, and my pore Mary Hann found it was not Baby, but Bundles I had in my lapp. " When the Old Dowidger Lady Bareacres, who was waiting heagerly at the train, herd that owing to that .abawminable brake of Gage the luggitch, her Ladyship's Cherrybrandy box, the cradle for Lady Hangelina's baby, the lace, crockary and chany, Avas rejuiced to one immortial smash ; the old cat howld at me and pore dear Mary Hann, as if it was huss, and not the infunnle Brake of Gage, was to blame ; and as if we ad no misfortns of our hown to deplaw. She bust out about my stupid imparence ; called Mary Hann a good for nothink creecher, and wep, and abewsd, and took on about her broken Chayny Bowl, a great deal more than she did about a dear little Christian child. ' Don't talk to me abowt your bratt of a babby' (seshe) ; ' where's my bowl ? — where's my bewtiffle Pint lace ? — All in rewins through your stupiddaty, you brute, you ! ' " ' Bring your haction against the Great Western, Maam,' says I, quite riled by this crewel and unfealing hold wixen. *Ask the pawters at Gloster, why your goods is spiled — it's not the first time theyve been asked the question. Git the gage haltered against the next time you send for viedsan — and mean- wild buy some at the " Plow " — they keep it very good and strong there, I'll be bound. Has for us, tve're going back to the cussid station at Gloster, in such of our blessid child.' " ' You don't mean to say, young woman,' seshe, ' that you're not going to Lady Hangelina : what's her dear boy to do ? who's to nuss it ? ' 136 LETTERS OF JEAMES. U I You nuss it, Maam/ says I. 'Me and Mary Hann return this momint by the Fly.' And so (whishing her a suckastic ajew) Mrs. Jeames and I lep into a one oss weakle, and told the driver to go like mad back to Gloster. " I can't describe my pore gals hagny juring our ride. She sat in the carridge as silent as a milestone, and as madd as a march Air. When we got to Gloster she sprang hout of it as wild as a Tigris, and rusht to the station, up to the fatle Bench. " ' My child, my child,' shreex she, in a boss, hot voice. * Where's my infant ? a little bewtitle child, with blue eyes, — • dear Mr. Policeman, give it me — a thousand guineas for it.' " ' Faix, Mam,' says the man, a Hirishman, ' and the divvie a babby have I seen this day except thirteen of my own — and you're welcome to any one of than, and kindly.' " ' As if his babby was equal to ours,' as my darling Mary Hann said, afterwards. All the station was scrouging round us by this time — pawters & clarx and refreshmint people and all. ' What's this year row about that there babby ? ' at last says the Inspector, stepping hup, I thought my wife was going to jump into his harms. ' Have you got him ? ' says she. " ' Was it a child in a blue cloak .'' ' says he. " ' And blue eyes ! ' says my wife. *' ' I put a label on him and sent him on to Bristol ; he's there by this time. The Guard of the Mail took him and put him into a letter-box,' says he : ' he went 20 minutes ago. We found him on the broad gauge line, and sent him on by it, in course,' says he. ' And it'll be a caution to you, young woman, for the future, to label your children along with the rest of your luggage.' " If my piguniary means had been such as otice they was, you may emadgine I'd have ad a speshle train and been hoff like s'noak. As it was, we was obliged to wait 4 mortial hours for the next train (4 ears they seemed to us), and then away we went. *' 'My boy ! my little boy ! ' says poor choking Mary Hann, when we got there. ' A parcel in a blue cloak ?' says the man. * No body claimed him here, and so we sent him back by the mail. An Irish nurse here gave him some supper, and he's at Paddington by this time. Yes,' says he, looking at the clock, ' he's been there these ten minutes.' " But seeing my poor wife's distracted histarricle state, this good-naterd man says, ' I think, my dear, there's a way to ease your mind. We'll know in five minutes how he is.' MR. JEAMES AGAIN. I^^ " * Sir,' says she, * don't make sport of me.' *"No, my clear, we'll telegraph him.' " And he began hopparating on that singlar and ingenus elecktricle inwention, which aniliates time, and carries intella- gence in the twinkling of a peg-post. " 'I'll ask,' says he, 'for child marked G. W. 273.' " Back comes the telegraph with the sign ' All right.' " ' Ask what he's doing, sir,' says my wife, quite amazed. Back comes the answer in a Jiffy — " ' C. R. Y. I. N. G.' " This caused all the bystanders to laugh excep my pore Mary Hann, who puU'd a very sad face. " The good-naterd feller presently said, ' he'd have another trile ; ' and what d'ye think was the answer ? I'm blest if it wasn't — " ' P. A. P.' " He was eating pap ! There's for you — there's a rogue for you — there's a March of Intaleck ! Mary Hann smiled now for the fust time. He'll sleep now,' says she. And she sat down with a full hart. * * * * " If hever that good-naterd Shooperintendent comes to London, he need never ask for his skore at the ' Wheel of Fortune Otel,' I promise you — where me and my wife and James Hangelo now is ; and where only yesterday a gent came in and drew a pictur of us in our bar. " And if they go on breaking gages ; and if the child, the most precious luggidge of the Henglishman, is to be bundled about this year way, why it won't be for want of warning, both from Professor Harris, the Commission, and from " My dear Mr, Punch's obeajent servant, Jeames Plush.' THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR GAHAGAN THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. Chapter I. "truth is strange, stranger than fiction." I think it but right that in making my appearance before the public I should at once acquaint them with my titles and name. My card, as I leave it at the houses of the nobility, my friends, is as follows : — MAJOR GOLIAH O'GRADY GAHAGAN, H.E.I.C.S., Commandmg Battalion of Irregular Horse, AHMEDNUGGAR. Seeing, I say, this simple visiting ticket, the world will avoid any of those awkward mistakes as to my person, which have been so frequent of late. There has been no end to the blun- ders regarding this humble title of mine, and the confusion thereby created. When I published my volume of poems, for instance, the Morning Post newspaper remarked " that the Lyrics of the Heart, by Miss Gahagan, may be ranked among the sweetest flowrets of the present spring season." The 10 142 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES Quarterly Review, commenting upon my " Observations on the Pons Asinorum " (4to. London, 1836), called me "Doctor Gahagan," and so on. It was time to put an end to these mis- takes, and I have taken the above simple remedy. I was urged to it by a very exalted personage. Dining in August last at the palace of the T — Ir-es at Paris, the lovely young Duch-ss of Orl — ns (who, though she does not speak English, understands it as well as I do), said to me in the softest Teutonic, "Lieber Herr Major, haben sie den Ahmed- nuggarischen-jager-battalion gelassen ? " " Warum denn } " said I, quite astonished at her R — 1 H ss's question. The P — cess then spoke of some trifle from my pen, which was simply signed Goliah Gahagan. There was, unluckily, a dead silence as H. R. H. put this question. " Comment done ? " said H. M. Lo-is Ph-l-ppe, looking gravely at Count Mole ; " le cher Major a quitte I'armee ! Nicolas done sera maitre de I'lnde ! " H. M and the Pi". M-n-ster pursued their conversation in a low tone, and left me, as may be imagined, in a dreadful state of confusion. I blushed and stuttered, and murmured out a few incoherent words to ex- plain — but it would not do — I could not recover my equanimity during the course of the dinner ; and while endeavoring to help an English duke, my neighbor, \.o poulet a f Austerlitz, fairly sent seven mushrooms and three large greasy croiites over his whisk- ers and shirt-frill. Another laugh at my expense. " Ah ! M. le Major," said the Q of the B-lg — ns, archly, " vous n'aurcz jamais votre brevet de Colonel." Her M y's joke will be better understood when I state that his Grace is the brother of a Minister. I am not at liberty to violate the sanctity of private life, by mentioning the names of the parties concerned in this little anecdote. I only wish to have it understood that I am a gentle- man, and live at least in decent society. Verbum sat. Put to be serious. I am obliged always to write the name of Goliah in full, to distinguish me from my brother, Gregory Gahagan, who was also a Major (in the King's service), and whom I killed in a duel, as the public most likely knows. Poor Greg ! a very trivial dispute was the cause of our quarrel, which never would have originated but for the similarity of our names. The circumstance was this : I had been lucky enough to render the Nawaub of Lucknow some trifling service (in the notorious affair of Choprasjee Muckjee), and his Highness sent down a gold toothpick-case directed to Captain G. Gahagan, which I OF MAJOR GAHAGAN: I43 of course thought was for me : my brother madly claimed it ; we fought, and the consequence was, that in about three min- utes he received a slash on the right side (cut 6), which effectu- ally did his business : — he was a good swordsman enough — I was THE BEST in the universe. The most ridiculous part of the affair is, that the toothpick-case was his after all — he had left it on the Nawaub's table at tiffin. I can't conceive what mad- ness prompted him to fight about such a paltry bauble ; he had much better have yielded it at once, when he saw I was de- termined to have it. From this slight specimen of my adven- tures, the reader will perceive that my life has been one of no ordinary interest ; and, in fact, I may say that I have led a more remarkable life than any man in the service — I have been at more pitched battles, led more forlorn hopes, had more suc- cess among the fair sex, drunk harder, read more, and been a handsomer man than any officer now serving her Majesty. When I first went to India in 1802, I was a raw cornet of seventeen, with blazing red hair, six feet four in height, athletic at all kinds of exercises, owing money to my tailor and every- body else who would trust me, possessing an Irish brogue, and my full pay of 120/. a year. I need not say that with all these advantages I did that which a number of clever fellows have done before me — I fell in love, and proposed to marry im- mediately. But how to overcome the difficulty ? — It is true that I loved Julia Jowler — loved her to madness ; but her father intended her for a Member of Council at least, and not for a beggarly Irish ensign. It was, however, my fate to make the passage to India (on board of the " Samuel Snob" East Indiaman, Cap- tain Duffy,) with this lovely creature, and my misfortune in- stantaneously to fall in love with her. We were not out of the Channel before I adored her, worshipped the deck which she trod upon, kissed a thousand times the cuddy-chair on which she used to sit. The same madness fell on every man in the ship. The two mates fought about her at the Cape ; the sur- geon, a sober, pious Scotchman, from disappointed affection, took so dreadfully to drinking as to threaten spontaneous com- bustion ; and old Colonel Lilywhite, carrying his wife and seven daughters to Bengal, swore that he would have a divorce from Mrs. L., and made an attempt at suicide ; the captain himself told me, with tears in his eyes, that he hated his hitherto- adored Mrs. Duffy, although he had had nineteen children by her. We used to call her the witch — there was magic in hei 144 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES beauty and in her voice, I was spell-bound when I looked at her, and stark staring mad when she looked at me ! O lustrous black eyes ! — O glossy night-black ringlets ! — O lips ! — O dainty frocks of white muslin ! — O tiny kid slippers ? — though old and gouty, Gahagan sees you still ! I recollect, off Ascension, she looked at me in her particular way one day at dinner, just as I happened to be blowing on a piece of scalding hot green fat. I was stupefied at once — I thrust the entire morsel (about half a pound) into my mouth. I made no attempt to swallow, or to masticate it, but left it there for many minutes, burning, burn- ing ! I had no skin to my palate for seven weeks after, and lived on rice-water during the rest of the voyage. The anecdote is trivial, but it shows the power of Julia Jowler over me. The writers of marine novels have so exhausted the subject of storms, shipwrecks, mutinies, engagements, sea-sickness, and so forth, that (although I have experienced each of these in many varieties) I think it quite unnecessary to recount such trifling adventures ; suffice it to say, that during our five months' trajd, my mad passion for Julia daily increased ] so did Colonel Lilywhite's ; so did the "doctor's, the mate's — that of most part of the passengers, and a considerable number of the crew. For myself, I swore — ensign as I was — I would win her for my wife ; I vowed that I would make her glorious with my sword — that as soon as I had made a favorable impres- sion on 'my commanding officer (which I did not doubt to create), I would lay open to him the state of my affections, and demand his daughter's hand. With such sentimental outpour- ings did our voyage continue and conclude. We landed at the Sunderbunds on a grilling hot day in December, 1802, and then for the moment Julia and I separated. She was carried off to her papa's arms in a palankeen, sur- rounded by at least forty hookahbadars ; whilst the poor ccr.iet, attended but by two dandies and a solitary beasty (by which unnatural name these blackamoors are called), made his way humbly to join the regiment at head-quarters. The — th Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, then under the command of Lieut. -Colonel Julius Jowler, C. B., was known throughout Asia and Euroi^e by the proud title of the Bundel- cund Invincibles — so great was its character for bravery, so remarkable were its services in that delightful district of India. Major Sir George Gutch was next in command, and Tom Thrupp, as kind a fellow as ever ran a Mahratta through the body, was second Major. We were on the eve of that remark- able war which was speedily to spread throughout the whole of OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 145 IncHn, to call forth the valor of a Wellesley, and the indomitable gallantry of a Gahagan ; which was illustrated by our victories at Ahmednuggar (where I was the first over the barricade at the stormingof the Pettah) ; at Arnauni, where I slew with my own sword twenty-three matchlock-men, and cut a dromedary in two ; and by that terrible day of Assaye, where Wellesley would have been beaten but for me — me alone : I headed nine- teen charges of cavalry, took (aided by only four men of my own troop) seventeen field-pieces, killing the scoundrelly French artiller}^'men ; on that day I had eleven elephants shot under me, and carried away Scindiah's nose-ring with a pistol- ball. Wellesley is a Duke and a Marshal, I but a simple Major of Irregulars. Such is fortune and war ! But my feelings carry me away from my narrative, which had better proceed with more order. On arriving, I sa}^, at our barracks at Dum Dum, I for the first time put on the beautiful uniform of the Invincibles: a light-blue swallow-tailed jacket with silver lace and wings, orna- mented with about 3,000 sugar-loaf buttons, rhubarb-colored leather inexpressibles (tights), and red morocco boots with silver spurs and tassels, set off to admiration the handsome persons of the officers of our corps. We wore powder in those days ; and a regulation pigtail of seventeen inches, a brass helmet surrounded by leopard-skin, with a bearskin top and a horsetail feather, gave the head a fierce and chivalrous appear- ance, which is far more easily imagined than described. Attired in this magnificent costume, I first presented myself before Colonel Jowler. He was habited in a manner precisely similar, but not being more than five feet in height, and weigh- ing at least fifteen stone, the dress he wore did not become him quite so much as slimmer and taller men. Flanked by his tall Majors, Thrapp and Gutch, he looked like a stumpy skittle- ball between two attenuated skittles. The plump little Colonel received me with vast cordiality, and I speedily became a prime favorite with himself and the other officers of the corps. Jowler was the most hospitable of men ; and gratifying my ap- petite and my love together, I continually partook of his din- ners, and feasted on the sweet presence of Julia. I can see now, what I would not and could not perceive in those early days, that this Miss Jowler — on whom I had lavished my first and warmest love, whom I had endowed with all perfection and purity — was no better than a little impudent flirt, who played with my feelings, because during the monotony of a sea-voyage she had no other toy to play with ; and who 146 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES deserted others for me, and me for others, just as her whim 01 her interest might guide her. She had not been three weelcs at head-quarters when half the regiment was in love with her. Each and all of the candidates had some favor to boast of, or some encouraging hopes on which to build. It was the scene of the " Samuel Snob " over again, only heightened in interest by a number of duels. The following list will give the reader a notion of some of them : — ■ I. Comet Galiagan Ensign Hicks, of the Sappers and Miners. Hicks received a ball in his jaw, and was half choked by a quantity of carroty whisker forced down his tliroat with th* ball. 3. _ Capt MacgilUcuddy, B. N. I Comet Gahagan. I was run through the body, but the sword passed between the ribs, and injured me very slightly. 3. Capt. MacgilKcuddy, B. N.I Mr. Mulligatawny, B. C. S., Deputy-As- sistant Vice Sub-Controller of the Bog- gley wollah Indigo grounds, Kamgolly branch. Macglllicuddy should have stuck to sword's-play, and he might have come oft" his second duel as well as in his first ; as it was, the civilian placed a ball and a part of Mac's gold repeater in his stomach. A remarkable circumstance attended this shot, an account of which I sent home to the " Philosophical Trans- actions : " the surgeon had extracted the ball, and was going off, thinking that all was well, when the gold repeater struck thirteen in poor Macgillicuddy's abdomen. I suppose that the works must have been disarranged in some way by the bullet, for the repeater was one of Barraud's, never known to fail be- fore, and the circumstance occurred at seven o'clock.* I could continue, almost ad infinitum, an account of the wars which this Helen occasioned, but the above three specimens will, I should think, satisfy the peaceful reader. I delight not in scenes of blood, heaven knows, but I was compelled in the course of a few weeks, and for the sake of this one woman, to fight nine duels myself, and I know that four times as many more took place concerning her. I forgot to say that Jowler's wife was a half-caste woman, who had been born and bred entirely in India, and whom the * So admirable are the iierformances of these watches, which will stand in any climate, that 1 repeatedly he.ird poor Matgillicuddy relate the following fact. The hours, as it 13 known, count in Italy from one to twenty-four: the day Mac landed at Nafiles his re* 6catcr rung- the Italian hours, from one to twenty-J'our ; as soon as he Crossed tlie Alpf It only sounded as usual. — G. O'G. G. OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 147 Colonel had married from the house of her mother, a native. There were some singular rumors abroad regarding this lady's history : it was reported that she was the daughter of a native Rajah, and had been carried off by a poor English subaltern in Lord Clive's time. The young man was killed very soon after, and left his child with its mother. The black Prince forgave his daughter and bequeathed to her a handsome sum of money. I suppose that it was on this account that Jowler married Mrs. J., a creature who had not, I do believe, a Chris- tian name, or a single Christian quality : she was a hideous, bloated, yellow creature, with a beard, black teeth, and red eyes : she was fat, lying, ugly, and stingy — she hated and was hated by all the world, and by her jolly husband as devoutly as by any other. She did not pass a month in the year with him, but spent most of her time with her native friends. I wonder how she could have given birth to so lovely a creature as her daughter. This woman was of course with the Colonel when Julia arrived, and the spice of the devil in her daughter's composition was most carefully nourished and fed by her. If Julia had been a flirt before, she was a downright jilt now ; she set the whole cantonment by the ears ; she made wives jealous and husbands miserable ; she caused all those duels of which I have discoursed already, and yet such was the fascination of THE WITCH that I still thought her an angel. I made court to the nasty mother in order to be near the daughter ; and I listened untiringly to Jowler's interminable dull stories, because I was occupied all the time in watching the graceful movements of Miss Julia. But the trumpet of war was soon ringing in our ears ; and on the battle-field Gahagan is a man ! The Bundelcund Invinci- bles received orders to march, and Jowler, Hector like, donned his helmet and prepared to part from his Andromache. And now arose his perplexity : what must be done with his daughter, his Julia .'' He knew his wife's peculiarities of living, and did not much care to trust his daughter to her keeping ; but in vain he tried to find her an asylum among the respectable ladies of his regiment. Lady Gutch offered to receive her, but would have nothing to do with Mrs. Jowler ; the surgeon's wife, Mrs. Sawbone, would have neither mother nor daughter \ there was no help for it, Julia and her mother must have a house together, and Jowler knew that his wife would iill it with her odious blackamoor friends. I could not, however, go forth satisfied to the campaign until I learned from Julia my fate. I watched twenty opportunitien 148 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES to see her alone, and wandered about the Colonel's bungalow as an informer does about a publig house, marking the in- comings and the outgoings of the family, and longing to seize the moment when Miss Jowler, unbiassed by her mother or her papa, might listen, perhaps, to my eloquence, and melt at the tale of my love. But it would not do — old Jowler seemed to have taken all of a sudden to such a fit of domesticity, that there was no finding him out of doors, and his rhubarb-colored wife (I believe that her skin gave the first idea of our regimental breeches), who before had been gadding ceaselessly abroad, and poking her broad nose into every menage in the canton- ment, stopped faithfully at home with her spouse. My only chance was to beard the old couple in their den, and ask them at once for their cub. So I called one day at titifin : — old Jowler was always happy to have my company at this meal ; it amused him, he said, to see me drink Hodgson's pale ale (I drank two hundred and thirty-four dozen the first year I was in Bengal) — and it was no small piece of fun, certainly, to see old Mrs. Jowler attack the currie-bhaut ; — she was exactly the color of it, as I have had already the honor to remark, and she swallowed the mixture with a gusto which was never equalled, except by my poor friend Dando d propos d'hintres. She consumed the first three platefuls with a fork and spoon, like a Christian ; but as slie warmed to her work, the old hag would throw away her silver implements, and dragging the dishes towards her, go to work with her hands, flip the rice into her mouth with her fingers, and stow away a quantity of eatables sufficient for a sepoy company. But why do I diverge from the main point of my story "i Julia, then, Jowler, and Mrs. J., were at luncheon : the dear girl was in the act to sabler a glass of Hodgson as I entered. " How do you do, Mr. Gagin ? " said the old hag, leeringly. " Eat a bit of currie-bhaut," — and she thrust the dish towards me, securing a heap as it passed. " What ! Gagy my boy, how do, how do ? " said the fat Colonel. " What ! run through the body ? — got well again — have some Hodgson — run through your body too ! " — and at this, I may say, coarse joke (alluding to the fact in these hot climates the ale oozes out as it were from the pores of the skin) old Jowler laughed : a host of swarthy chopdars, kitmatgars, sices, consomahs, and bobbychies laughed too, as they provided me, unasked, with the grateful fluid. Swallowing six tumblers of it, I paused nervously for a moment, and then said — • OF MAJOR CAHAGAN: 149 *' Bobbachy, consomah, ballybaloo hoga." The black ruffians took the hint, and retired. "Colonel and Mrs. Jowler," said I solemnly, "we are alone ; and you. Miss Jowler, you are alone too ; that is — I mean — I take this opportunity to — (another glass of ale, if you please.) — to express, once for all, before departing on a dan- gerous campaign " — (Julia turned pale) — " before entering, I say, upon a war which may stretch in the dust my high-raised hopes and me, to express my hopes while life still remains to me, and to declare in the face of heaven, earth, and Colonel Jowler, that I love you, Julia ! " The Colonel, astonished, let fall a steel fork, which stuck quivering for some minutes in the calf of my leg; but I heeded not the paltry interruption. " Yes, by yon bright heaven," continued I, " I love you, Julia ! I respect my commander, I esteem your excellent and beaute- ous mother ; tell me, before I leave you, if I may hope for a return of my affection. Say that you love me, and 1 will do such deeds in this coming war, as shall make you proud of the name of your Gahagan." The old woman, as I delivered these touching words, stared, snapped and ground her teeth, like an enraged monkey. Julia was now red, now white ; the Colonel stretched forward, took the fork out of the calf of my leg, wiped it, and then seized a bundle of letters which I had remarked by his side. " A cornet ! " said he, in a voice choking with emotion ; " a pitiful, beggarly Irish cornet aspire to the hand of Julia Jowler ! Gag — Gahagan, are you mad, or laughing at us ? Look at these letters, young man — at these letters, I say — one hundred and twenty-four epistles from every part of India (not including one from the Governor-General, and six from his brother, Col- onel Wellesley,) — one hundred and twenty-four proposals for the hand of Miss Jowler ! Cornet Gahagan," he continued, " I wish to think well of you : you are the bravest, the most modest, and, perhaps, the handsomest man in our corps ; but you have not got a single rupee. You ask me for Julia, and you do not possess even an anna ! " — (Here the old rogue grinned, as if he had made a capital pun.) — "No, no," said he, waxing good-natured ; " Gagy my boy, it is nonsense ! Julia love, retire with your mamma ; this silly young gentleman wil] remain and smoke a pipe with me." I took one ; it was the bitterest chillum I ever smoked in my life. » * « * # I am not going to give here an account of my military scf 15° THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES vices ; they will appear in my great national autobiography, in forty volumes, which I am now preparing for the press. I was with my regiment in all Wellesley's brilliant campaigns ; then taking dawk, I travelled across the country north-eastward, and had the honor of fighting by the side of Lord Lake at Laswa- ree, Deeg, Furrukabad, Futtyghur, and Bhurtpore : but I will not boast of my actions — the military man knows them, my SOVEREIGN appreciates them. If asked who was the bravest man of the Indian army, there is not an officer belonging to it who would not cry at once, Gahagan. The fact is, I was des- perate : I cared not for life, deprived of Julia Jowler. With Julia's stony looks ever before my eyes, her father's stern refusal in my ears, I did not care, at the close of the cam- paign, again to seek her company^ or press my suit. We were eighteen months on service, marching and countermarching, and fighting almost every other day ; to the world I did not seem altered ; but the world only saw the face, and not the seared and blighted heart within me. My valor, always des- iderate, now reached to a pitch of cruelty ; I tortured my grooms and grass-cutters for the most trifling offence or error, — I never in attion spared a man, — I sheared off three hundred and nine heads in the course of that single campaign. Some influence, equally melai^choly, seemed to have fallen upon poor old Jowler. About six months after we had left Dum Dum, he received a parcel of letters from Benares (whither his wife had retired with her daughter), and so deeply did tiiey seem to weigh upon his spirits, that he ordered eleven men of his regiment to be flogged within two days ; but it was against the blacks that he chiefly turned his wrath. Our fel- lows, in the heat and hurry of the campaign, were in the habit of dealing rather roughly with their prisoners, to extract treas- ure from them : they used to pull their nails out by the root, to boil them in kedgeree pots, to flog them and dress their wounds with cayenne pepper, and so on. Jowler, when he heard of these proceedings, which before had always justly exasperated him (he was a humane and kind little man), used now to smile fiercely and say, " D — the black scoundrels ! Serve them right, serve them right ! " One day, about a couple of miles in advance of the column, I had been on a foraging party with a few dragoons, and was returning peaceably to camp, when of a sudden a troop of Mahrattas burst on us from a neighboring mango-tope, in which they had been hidden : in an instant three of my men's sad- dles were empty and I was left with but seven more to make OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. Igl head against at least thirty of tlaese vagabond black horsemen. I never saw in my life a nobler figure than the leader of the troop — mounted on a splendid black Arab : he was as tall, very nearly, as myself ; he wore a steel cap and a shirt of mail, and carried a beautiful French carbine, which had already done execution upon two of my men. I saw that our only chance of safety lay in the destruction of this man. I shouted to him in a voice of thunder (in the Hindustanee tongue of course), *' Stop, dog, if you dare, and encounter a man ! " In reply his lance came whirling in the air over my head, and mortally transfixed jDoor Foggarty of ours, who was be- hind me. Grinding my teeth and swearing horribly, I drew that scimitar which never yet failed its blow,* and rushed at the Indian. He came down at full gallop, his own sword mak- ing ten thousand gleaming circles in the air, shrieking his cry of battle. The contest did not last an instant. With my first blow I cut off his sword-arm at the wrist ; my second I levelled at his head. I said that he wore a steel cap, with a gilt iron spike of six inches, and a hood of chain mail. I rose in my stirrups and delivered '•^ St. George;'" my sword caught the spike exactly on the point, split it sheer in two, cut crashing through the steel cap and hood, and was only stopped by a ruby which he wore in his back-plate. His head, cut clean in two between the eyebrows and nostrils, even between the twa front teeth, fell one side on each shoulder, and he galloped on till his horse was stopped by my men, who were not a little amused at the feat. As I had expected, the remaining ruffians fled on seeing their leader's fate. I took home his helmet by way of curios- itv, and we made a single prisoner, who was instantly carried before old Jowler. We asked the prisoner the name of the leader of the troop ; he said it was Chowder Loll. " Chowder Loll ! " shrieked Colonel Jowler. " O fate ! thy hand is here ! " He rushed wildly into his tent — the next day applied for leave of absence. Gutch took the command of the regiment, and I saw him no more for some time, TV "Vf * 5p '^ 3(f As I had distinguished myself not a little during the war, General Lake sent me up with despatches to Calcutta, where Lord Wellesley received me with the greatest distinction. * In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small-swords :-* tniserable weapons, only fit for tailors. — G. O'G. G. 152 THE TREMEN^DOUS ADVENTURES Fancy my surprise, on going to a ball at Government House, to meet my old friend Jowler ; my trembling, blushing, thrilling delight, when I saw Julia by his side ! Jowler seemed to blush too when he beheld me. I thought of my former passages with his daughter. " Gagy my boy," says he, shaking hands, "glad to see you. Old friend, Julia — come to tiffin — Hodgson's pale — brave fellow Gagy." Julia did not speak, but she turned ashy pale, and fixed upon me her awful eyes ! I fainted almost, and uttered some incoherent words. Julia took my hand, gazed at me still, and said, *' Come !" Need I say I went ? I will not go over the pale ale and currie-bhaut again ; but this I know, that in half an hour I was as much in love as I ever had been : and that in three weeks I — yes, I — was the accepted lover of Julia ! I did not pause to ask where weie the one hundred and twenty-four offers ? why I, refused before, should be accepted now ? I only felt that I loved her, and was happy ! ***** One night, one memorable night, I could not sleep, and, with a lover's pardonable passion, wandered solitary through the city of palaces until I came to the house which contained my Julia. I peeped into the compound — all was still ; I looked into the verandah — all was dark, except a light — yes, one light — and it was in Julia's chamber ! My heart throbbed almost to stifling. I would — I would advance, if but to gaze upon her for a moment, and to bless her as she slept. I did look, I did advance; and, O heaven! I saw a lamp burning, Mrs. Jow. in a night-dress, with a very dark baby in her arms, and Julia looking tenderly at an ayah, who was nursing another. "Oh, mamma," said Julia, "what would that fool Gahagan say if he knew all ? " " He does know all! shouted I, springing forward, and tear- ing down the tatties from the window. Mrs. Jow. ran shrieking out of the room, Julia fainted, the cursed black children squalled, and their d — d nurse fell on her knees, gabbling some infernal jargon of Hindustanee. Old Jowler at this juncture entered with a candle and a drawn sword. " Liar ! scoundrel ! deceiver ! " shouted I. " Turn, ruffian, and defend yourself ! " But old Jowler, when he saw me, only whistled, looked at his lifeless daughter, and slowly left the room. Why continue the tale ? I need not now account for Jow- let's gloom on receiving his letters from Benares — for his ej? OF MAJOR GAHAGAN: 153 clamation upon the death of the Indian chief — for his desire to marry his daughter ; the woman I was wooing was no longei Miss Julia Jowler, she was Mrs. Chowder Loll 1 Chapter II. ALLYGHUR AND LASWAREE. I SAT down to write gravely and sadly, for (since the appear- ance of some of my adventures in a monthly magazine} un- principled men have endeavored to rob me of the only good I possess, to question the statements that I make, and, them- selves without a spark of honor or good feeling, to steal from me that which is my sole wealth — my character as a teller of THE TRUTH. The reader will understand that it is to the illiberal stric- tures of a profligate press I now allude ; among the London journalists, none (luckily for themselves) have dared to ques- tion the veracity of my statements : they know me, and they know that I am in London. If I can use the pen, I can also wield a more manly and terrible weapon, and would answer their contradictions with my sword ! No gold or gems adorn the hilt of that war-worn scimitar ; but there is blood upon the blade — the blood of the enemies of my country, and the malign- ers of my honest fame. There are others, however — the dis- grace of a disgraceful trade — who, borrowing from distance a despicable courage, have ventured to assail me. The infamous editors of the Kelso Champion^ the Bungay Beacon, the Tipperary Argus, and the Stoke Pogis Sentinel, and other dastardly organs of the provincial press, have, although differing in politics, agreed upon this one point, and, with a scoundrelly unanimity, vented a flood of abuse upon the revelations made by me. They say that I have assailed private characters, and wil- fully perverted history to blacken the reputation of public men. I ask, was any one of these men in Bengal in the year 1803 ? Was any single conductor of any one of these paltry prints ever in Eundelcund or the Rohilla country ? Does this exquisite Tipperary scribe know the difference between Hurrygurrybang and Burrumtollah ? Not he ! and because, forsooth, in those strange and distant lands strange circumstances have taken place, it is insinuated that the relater is a liar : nay, that the very places themselves have no existence but in my imagina- «S4 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES tion. Fools ! — but I will not waste my anger upon them, and proceed to recount some other portions of my personal his- tory. It is, I presume, a fact which even these scribbling assassins will not venture to deny, that before the commencement of the campaign against Scindiah, the English General formed a camp at Kanouge on the Jumna, where he exercised that brilliant little army which was speedily to perform such wonders in the Dooab. It will be as well to give a slight account of the causes of a war which was speedily to rage through some of the fairest portions of the Indian continent. Shah yVllum, the son of Shah Lollum, the descendant by the female line of Nadir Shah (that celebrated Toorkomaun adventurer, who had wellnigh hurled Bajazet and Selim the Second from the throne of Bagdad) — Shah Allum, I say, al- though nominally the Emperor of Delhi, was in reality the slave of the various warlike chieftains who lorded it by turns over the country and the sovereign, until conquered and slain by some more successful rebel. Chowder Loll Masolgee, Zubber- dust Khan, Dowsunt Row Scindiah, and the celebrated Bob- bachy Jung Bahawder, had held for a time complete mastery in Delhi. The second of these, a ruthless Afghan soldier, had abruptly entered the capital ; nor was he ejected from it until he had seized upon the principal jewels, and likewise put out the eyes of the last of the unfortunate family of Afrasiiib. Scindiah came to the rescue of the sightless Shah Allum, and though he destroyed his oppressor, only increased his slavery; holding him in as painful a bondage as he had suffered under the tyrannous Afghan, As long as these heroes were battling among themselves, or as long rather as it appeared that they had any strength to fight a battle, the British Government, ever anxious to see its ene- mies by the ears, by no means interfered in the contest. But the French Revolution broke out, and a host of starving sans- culottes appeared among the various Indian States, seeking for military service, and inflaming the minds of the various native princes against the British East India Company. A number of these entered into Scindiah's ranks : one of them, Perron, was commander of his army ; and though that chief was as yet quite engaged in his hereditary cjuarrel with Jeswunt Row Hol- kar, and never thought of an invasion of the British territory, the Company all of a sudden discovered that Shah Allum, his sovereign, was shamefully ill-used, and determined to re-estab- lish the ancient splendor of his throne. OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 1^5 Of course it was sheer benevolence for poor Shah Allum that prompted our governors to take these kindly measures in his favor. I don't know how it happened that, at the end of the war, the poor Shah was not a whit better off than at the beginning ; and that though Holkar was beaten, and Scindiah annihilated. Shah Allum was much such a puppet as before. Somehow, in the hurry and confusion of this struggle, the oyster remained with the British Government, who had so kindly of- fered to dress it for the Emperor, while his Majesty was obliged to be contented with the shell. The force encamped at Kanouge bore the title of the Grand Army of the Ganges and the Jumna ; it consisted of eleven regiments of cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, and was commanded by General Lake in person. Well, on the ist of September we stormed Perron's camp at Allyghur ; on the fourth we took that fortress by assault ; and as my name was mentioned in general orders, I may as well quote the Commander-in-Chief's words regarding me — they will spare me the trouble of composing my own eulogium : — " The Commander-in-Chief is proud thus publicly to de- clare his high sense of the gallantry of Lieutenant Gahagan, of the cavalry. In the storming of the fortress, although un- provided with a single ladder, and accompanied but by a few brave men, Lieutenant Gahagan succeeded in escalading the inner and fourteenth wall of the place. Fourteen ditches lined with sword-blades and poisoned chevaux-de-frise, fourteen walls bristling with innumerable artillery and as smooth as looking- glasses, were in turn triumphantly passed by that enterprising officer. His course was to be traced by the heaps of slaugh- tered enemies lying thick upon the platforms ; and alas ! by the corpses of most of the gallant men who followed him ! — when at length he effected his lodgment, and the dastardly enemy, who dared not to confront him with arms, let loose upon him the tigers and lions of Scindiah's menagerie. This meritorious officer destroyed, with his own hand, four of the largest and most ferocious animals, and the rest, awed by the indomitable majesty of British valor, shrank back to their dens. Thomas Higgory, a private, and Runty Goss, havildar, were the only two who remained out of the nine hundred who followed Lieu- tenant Gahagan. Honor to them ! Honor and tears for the brave men who perished on that awful day ! '' ***** I have copied this, word for word, from the Berigal Hurkaru of September 24, 1803 : and anybody who has the slightest doubt as to the statement, may refer to the paper itself. 156 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES And here I must pause to give thanks to Fortune, which so niarveliously preserved me, Sergeant-Major Higgory, and Runty Goss. Were I to say that any valor of ours had carried us un- hurt through this tremendous combat, the reader would laugh me to scorn. No : though my narrative is extraordinary, it is nevertheless authentic ; and never, never vi^ould I sacrifice truth for the mere sake of effect. The fact is this : — the citadel of Allyghur is situated upon a rock, about a thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is surrounded by fourteen walls, as his Excellency was good enough to remark in his despatch. A man who would mount these without scaling-ladders, is an ass ; he who would say he mounted them without such assistance, is a liar and a knave. We had scaling-ladders at the commence- ment of the assault, although it was quite impossible to carry them beyond the first line of batteries. Mounted on them, however, as our troops were falling thick abcut me, I saw that we must ignominiously retreat, unless some other help could be found for our brave fellows to escalade the next wall. It was about seventy feet high. I instantly turned the guns of wall A on wall B, and pej^pered the latter so as to make, not a breach, but a scaling place ; the men mounting in the holes made by the shot. By this simple stratagem, I managed to pass each successive barrier — for to ascend a wall which the General was pleased to call " as smooth as glass " is an absurd impossi- bility : I seek to achieve none such : — " I dare do all that may become a man. Who dares do more, is neither more nor less." Of course, had the enemy's guns been commonly well served, not one of us would ever have been alive out of the three ; but whether it was owing to fright, or to the excessive smoke caused by so many pieces of artillery, arrive we did. On the platforms, too, our work was not quite so difficult as might be imagined — killing these fellows was sheer butchery. As soon as we appeared, they all turned and fled helter-skelter, and the reader may judge of their courage by the fact that out of about seven hundred men killed by us, only forty had wounds in front, the rest being bayoneted as they ran. And beyond all other pieces of good fortune was the very letting out of these tigers ; which was the dernier resort oi Bour- nonville, the second commandant of the fort. I had observed this man (conspicuous for a tri-colored scarf which he wore) upon every one of the walls as we stormed them, and running away the very first among the fugitives. He had all the keys OF MAJOR GAHAGAN I^y of the gates ; and in his tremor, as he opened the mdnagerie portal, left the whole bunch in the door, which I seized when the animals were overcome. Runty Goss then opened them one by one, our troops entered, and the victorious standard of my country floated on the walls of Allyghur ! When the General, accompanied by his staff, entered the last line of fortifications, the brave old man raised me from the dead rhinoceros on which I was seated, and pressed me to hi? breast. But the excitement which had borne me through the fatigues and perils of that fearful day failed all of a sudden, and I wept like a child upon his shoulder. Promotion, in our army, goes unluckily by seniority ; nor is it in the power of the General-in-Chief to advance a Caesar, if he finds him in the capacity of a subaltern ; t7iy reward for the above exploit was, therefore, not very rich. His Excellency had a favorite horn snuff-box (for, though exalted in station, he was in liis habits most simple) : of this, and about a quarter of an ounce of high-dried Welsh, which he always took, he made me a present, saying, in front of the line, " Accept this, Mr. Gahagan, as a token of respect from the first to the bravest officer in the army." Calculating the snuff to be worth a halfpenny, I should say that fourpence was about the value of this gift : but it has at least this good effect — it serves to convince any person who doubts my story, that the facts of it are really true. I have left it at the ofiice of my publisher, along with the extract from the Bengal Hurkat-u, and anybody may examine both by applying in the counting-house of Mr. Cunningham.* That once popu- lar expression, or proverb, " Are you up to snuff ? " arose out of the above circumstance ; for the officers of my corps, none of whom, except myself, had ventured on the storming-party, used to twit me about this modest reward for my labors. Never mind ! when they want me to storm a fort again, I shall know better. Well, immediately after the capture of this important for- tress. Perron, who had been the life and soul of Scindiah's army, came in to us, with his family and treasure, and was passed over to the French settlements at Chandernagur. Bour- quien took his command, and against him we now moved. The morning of the nth of September found us upon the plains of Delhi. • The Major certainly offered to leave an old snuff-box at Mr. Cunningham's oflSce } but it contained no extract from a newspaper, and does not qnile prove that he killed a rhinoceros and stormed iourteen iutrenchments at the siege ol AUyEhur. II 158 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES It was a burning hot day, and we were all refreshing our- selves after the morning's march, when I, who was on the ad- vanced jDiquet along wdth O'Gawler of the King's Dragoons, was made aware of the enemy's neighborhood in a very singu- lar manner. O'Gawler and I were seated under a little canopy of horse-cloths, which we had formed to shelter us from the intolerable heat of the sun, and were discussing with great delight a few Manilla cheroots, and a stone jar of the most ex- quisite, cool, weak, refreshing sangaree. We had been playing cards the night before, and O'Gawler had lost to me seven hundred rupees. I emptied the last of the sangaree into the two pint tumblers out of which we were drinking, and holding mine up, said, " Here's better luck to you next time, O'Gaw- ler ! " As I spoke the words — whish ! — a cannon-ball cut the tum- bler clean out of my hand, and plumped into poor O'Gawler's stomach. It settled him completely, and of course I never got my seven hundred rupees. Such are the uncertainties of war ! To strap on my sabre and my accoutrements — to mount my Arab charger — to drink off what O'Gawler had left of the san- garee — and to gallop to the General, was the work of a moment. I found him as comfortably at tiffin as if he were at his own house in London. " General," said I, as soon as I got into his paijamahs (or tent), " you must leave your lunch if you want to fight the enemy." " The enemy — psha ! Mr. Gahagan, the enemy is on the other side of the river." " I can only tell your Excellency that the enemy's guns will hardly carry five miles, and that Cornet O'Gawler was this moment shot dead at my side with a cannon-ball." " Ha ! is it so ? " said his Excellency, rising, and laying down the drumstick of a grilled chicken. "Gentlemen, re- member that the eyes of Europe are upon us, and follow me ! " Each aide-de-camp started from table and seized his cocked hat ; each British heart beat high at the thoughts of the coming melee. We mounted our horses, and galloped swiftly after the brave old General ; I not the last in the train, upon my famous black charger. It was perfectly true, the enemy were posted in force within three miles of our camp, and from a hillock in the advance to which we galloped, we were enabled with our telescopes to see the whole of his imposing line. Nothing can better describe it lliau this ; — OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. i^^ -A —A is the enemy, and the dots represent the hundred and twenty pieces of artillery which defended his line. He was, moreover, intrenched ; and a wide morass in his front gave him an additional security. His Excellency for a moment surveyed the line, and then said, turning round to one of his aides-de-camp, " Order up Major-General Tinkler and the cavalry." " Here, does your Excellency mean ? " said the aide-de- camp, surprised, for the enemy had perceived us, and the cannon-balls were flying about as thick as peas. ''Here, sir I'' said the old General, stamping with his foot in a passion, and the A. D. C. shrugged his shoulders and galloped away. In five minutes we heard the trumpets in our camp, and in' twenty more the greater part of the cavalry had joined us. Up they came, five thousand men, their standards flapping in the air, their long line of polished jack-boots gleaming in the golden sunlight. " And now we are here," said Major-General Sir Theophilus Tinkler, " what next ? " " Oh, d it," said the Commander-in-Chief, "charge, charge — nothing like charge ing — galloping — guns — rascally black scoundrels — charge, charge ! " And then turning round to me (perhaps he was glad to change the conversation), he said, " Lieutenant Gaha- gan, you will stay with me." And well for him I did, for I do not hesitate to say that the battle was gai?ied by me. I do not mean to insult the reader by pretending that any personal exertions of mine turned the day, — that I killed, for instance, a regiment of cavalry or swallowed a battery of guns, — such absurd tales would disgrace both the hearer and the teller. I, as is well known, never say a single word which cannot be proved, and hate more than all other vices the absurd sin of egotism ; I simply mean that my advice to the General, at a quarter past two o'clock in the afternoon of that day, won this great triumph for the British army. Gleig, Mill and Thorn have all told the tale of this war, though somehow ihey have omitted all mention of the hero of it. General Lake, for the victory of that day, became Lord Lake of Laswaree. Laswaree ! and vdio, forsooth, was the l6o THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES real conqueror of Laswaree? I can lay my hand upon my heart and say that /was. If any proof is wanting of the fact, let me give it at once, and from the highest military testimony in the world — I mean that of the Emperor Napoleon. In the month of March, 1817, I was a passenger on board the " Prince Regent," Captain Harris, which touched at St. Helena on its passage from Calcutta to England. In company with the other othcers on board the ship, I paid my respects to the illustrious exile of Longwood, who received us in his garden, where he was walking aboxit, in a nankeen dress, and a large broad-brimmed straw-hat, with General Montholon, Count Las Casas, and his son Emanuel, then a little boy ; who I dare say does not recollect me, but who nevertheless played with my sword-knot and the tassels of my Hessian boots during the whole of our interview with his Imperial Majesty. Our names were read out (in a pretty accent, by the way !) by General Montholon, and the Emperor, as each was pro- nounced, made a bow to the owner of it, but did not vouchsafe a word. At last Montholon came to mine. The Emperor looked me at once in the face, took his hands out of his pockets, put them behind his back, and coming up to me smiling, pro- nounced the following words : — "Assaye, Delhi, Deeg, Futtyghur?" I blushed, and taking off my hat with a bow, said — Sire, c'est moi." " Parbleu ! je le savais bien," said the Emperor, holding out his snuff-box. " En usez-vous. Major ? " I took a large pinch (which, with the honor of speaking to so great a man, brought the tears into my eyes), and he continued as nearly as possible in the following words : — " Sir, you are known ; you come of an heroic nation. Your third brother, the Chef de Bataillon, Count Godfrey Gahagan, was in my Irish brigade." Gahagan. — '' Sire, it is true. He and my countrymen in your Majesty's service stood under the green flag in the breach of Burgos, and beat Wellington back. It was the only time, as your Majesty knows, that Irishmen and Englishmen were beaten in that war." Napoleon (looking as if he would say, " D — your candor, Major Gahagan "). — " Well, well ; it was so. Your brother was a Count, and died a General in my service." Gahagan. — " He was found lying upon the bodies of nine and-twenty Cossacks at Borodino. They were all dead, and bore the Gahagan mark." Napoleon (to Montholon). — " C'est vrai, Montholon : je vous OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. l6i donne ma parole d'honneur la plus sacree, que c'est vrai. lis ne sont pas d'autres, ces terribles Ga'gans. You must know that Monsieur gained the battle of Delhi as certainly as I did that of Austerlitz. In this way : — Ce belitre de Lor Lake, after calling up his cavalry, and placing them in front of Holkar's batteries, qui balayient la plaine, was for charging the enemy's batteries with his horse, who would have been ecrases, mitrail- les, foudroye's to a man but for the cunning of ce grand roguo que vous voyez." Montholon. — " Coquin de Major, va ! " Napoleon. — " Montholon ! tais-toi. When Lord Lake, with his great bull-headed English obstinacy, saw the fdcheusi position into which he had brought his troops, he was for dying on the spot, and would infallibly have done so — and the loss of his army would have been the ruin of the East India Company — and the ruin of the English East India Company would have established my empire (bah ! it was a republic then !) in the East — but that the man before us, Lieutenant Goliah Gahagan, was riding at the side of General Lake." Montholon (with an accent of despair and fur}'). — " Gredin t cent mille tonnerres de Dieu ! " Napoleon (benignantly). — " Calme-toi, mon fidele ami. What will you ? It was fate, Gahagan, at the critical period of the battle, or rather slaughter (for the English had not slain a man of the enemy), advised a retreat." Afontholon. — " Le lache ! Un Fran^ais meurt, mais il ne recule jamais." Napoleon. — " Sinpide / Don't 3'ou see why the retreat was ordered ? — don't 3'ou know that it was a feint on the part of Gahagan to draw Holkar from his impregnable intrenchments ? Don't you know that the ignorant Indian fell into the snare, and issuing from behind the cover of his guns, came down with his cavalry on the plains in pursuit of Lake and his dragoons ? Then it was that the Englishmen turned upon him ; the hardy children of the north swept down his feeble horsemen, bore them back to their guns, which were useless, entered Holkar's intrenchments along with his troops, sabred the artillerymen at their pieces, and won the battle of Delhi ! " As the Emperor spoke, his pale cheek glowed red, his eye flashed fire, his deep clear voice rung as of old when he pointed out the enemy from beneath the shadow of the Pyra- mids, or rallied his regiments to the charge upon the death- strewn plains of Wagram. I have had many a proud moment in my life but never such a proud one as this ; and I would l62 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES readily pardon the word " coward," as applied to me by Mon- tholon, in consideration of the testimony which his master bore in my favor. " Major," said the Emperor to me in conclusion, "why had I not such a man as you in my service ? I would have made you a Prince and a Marshal ! " and here he fell into a reverie, of which I knew and respected the purport. He was thinking, doubtless, that I might have retrieved his fortunes ; and indeed I have very little doubt that I might. Very soon after, coffee was brought by Monsieur Marchand, Napoleon's valet de chambre, and after partaking of that bever- age, and talking upon the politics of the day, the Emperor withdrew, leaving me deeply impressed by the condescension he bad shown in this remarkable interview. Chapter III. A PEEP INTO SPAIN ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND SERVICES OF THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS. Head-Qiiai-ters, Morella, Sept. l^ih, 1838. I HAVE been here for some months, along with my young friend Cabrera : and in the hurry and bustle of war — daily on guard and in the batteries for sixteen hours out of the twenty- four, with fourteen severe wounds and seven musket-balls in my body — it may be imagined that I have had little time to think about the publication of my memoirs. Ifiter arma siletit leges — in the midst of fighting be hanged to writing ! as the poet says ; and I never would have bothered myself with a pen, had not common gratitude incited me to throw off a few pages. Along with Oraa's troops, who have of late been beleaguer- ing this place, there was a young Milesian gentleman, Mr. Toone O'Connor Emmett Fitzgerald Sheeny, by name, a law student, and member of Gray's Inn, and what he CdWo-ABay Ah of Trinity College, Dublin. Mr. Sheeny was with the Queen's people, not in a military capacity, but as representative of an English journal ; to which, for a trifling weekly remuneration, he was in the habit of transmitting accounts of the movements of the belligerents, and his own opinion of the politics of Spain. Receiving, for the discharge of his duty, a couple of guineas a week from the proprietors of the journal in question, he was enabled, as I need scarcely say, to make such a show in Oraa's camp as only a Christine general officer, or at the very least a colonel of a regiment, can afford to keep up. OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. x^^ In the famous sortie which we made upon the twenty-third, I was of course among the foremost in the ntelee^ and found my- self, after a good deal of slaughtering (which it would be as dis- agreeable as useless to describe here), in the court of a small inn or podesta, which had been made the head-quarters of several Queenite officers during the siege. The pesatero or landlord of the inn had been despatched by my brave chapel- churies, with his fine family of children — the officers quartered in the podesta had of course bolted ; but one man remained, and my fellows were on the point of cutting him into ten thousand pieces with , their borachios, when I arrived in the room time enough to prevent the catastrophe. Seeing before me an individual in the costume of a civilian — a white hat, a light-blue satin cravat, embroidered with butterflies and other quadrupeds, a green coat and brass buttons, and a pair of blue plaid trousers, I recognized at once a countryman, and inter- posed to save his life. In an agonized brogue the unhappy young man was saying all that he could to induce the chapel-churies to give up their intention of slaughtering him ; but it is very little likely that his protestations would have had any effect upon them, had not I appeared in the room, and shouted to the ruffians to hold their hand. Seeing a general officer before them (I have the honor to hold that rank in the service of his Catholic Majesty), and moreover one six feet four in height, and armed with that terrible cabecilla (a sword so called, because it is five feet long) which is so well known among the Spanish armies — seeing, I say, this figure, the fellows retired, exclaiming, " Adios, corpo d'l bacco, ?iosotros,'" and so on, clearly proving (by their words) that they would, if they dared, have immolated the victim whom I had thus rescued from their fury. "Villains ! " shouted I, hear- ing them grumble, " away ! quit the apartment ! " Each man, sulkily sheathing his sombrero, obeyed, and quitted the cama- rilla. It was then that Mr. Sheeny detailed to me the particulars to which I have briefly adverted ; and, informing me at the same time that he had a family in England who would feel obliged to me for his release, and that his most intimate friend the English ambassador would move heaven and earth to revenge his fall, he directed my attention to^ a portmanteau passably well filled, which he hoped would satisfy the cupidity of my troops. I said, though with much regret, that I must subject his person to a search ; and hence arose the circum- stance which has called for what I fear you will consider a 164 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES somewhat tedious explanation. I found upon Mr. Sheeny's person three sovereigns in English money (which I have to this day), and singularly enough a copy of The JVew Afotithly Magazine, containing a portion of my adventures. It was a toss-up whether I should let the poor young man be shot or no, but this little circumstance saved his life. The gratified vanity of authorship induced me to accept his portmanteau and valuables, and to allow the poor wretch to go free. I put the Magazine in my coat-pocket, and left him and the podesta. The men, to my surprise, had quitted the building, and it was full time for me to follow ; for I found our sallying party, after committing dreadful ravages in Oraa's lines, were in full retreat upon the fort, hotly pressed by a superior force of the enemy. I am pretty well known and respected by the men of both parties in Spain (indeed I served for some months on the Queen's side before I came over to Don Carlos) ; and, as it is my maxim never to give quarter, I never expect to receive it when taken myself. On issuing from the podesta with Sheeny's portmanteau and my sword in my hand, I was a little disgusted and annoyed to see our own men in a pretty good column retreating at double-quick, and about four hundred yards beyond me, up the hill leading to the fort ; while on my left hand, and at only a hundred yards, a troop of the Queenite lancers were clattering along the road. I had got into the very middle of the road before I made this discovery, so that the fellows had a full sight of me, and whizz ! came a bullet by my left whisker before I could say Jack Robinson. I looked round — there were seventy of the accursed malvados at the least, and within, as I said, a hundred yards. Were I to say that I stopped to fight seventy men, you would write me down a fool or a liar : no, sir, I did not fight, I ran away. I am six feet four — my figure is as well known in the Spanish army as that of the Count de Luchana, or my fierce little friend Cabrera himself. " Gahagan ! " shouted out half a dozen scoundrelly voices, and fifty more shots came rattling after me. I was running — running as the brave stag before the hounds — running as I have done a great number of times before in my life, when there was no help for it but a race. After I had run about five hundred yards, I saw that I had gained nearly three upon our column in front, and that likewise the Christino horsemen were left behind some hundred yards more ; with the exception of three, who were fearfully near me. The first was an officer without a lance ; he had fired both his pistols at me, and was twenty yards in advance of his comrades ; OF MAJOR GAIfAGAJ\r. igg there was a similar distance between the two lancers who rode behind him. I determined then to wait for No. i, and as he came up delivered cut 3 at his horse's near leg — off it flew, and down, as I expected, went horse and man. I had hardly time to pass my sword through my prostrate enemy, when. No. 2 was upon me. If I could but get that fellows' horse, thought I, I am safe ; and I executed at once the plan which I hoped was to effect my rescue. I had, as I said, left the podesta with Sheeny's portmanteau, and, unwilling to part with some of the articles it contained — ■ some shirts, a bottle of whiskey, a few cakes of Windsor soap, &c., &c. — I had carried it thus far on my shoulders, but now was compelled to sacrifice it malgr'e moi. As the lancer came up, I dropped my sword from my right hand, and hurled the portmanteau at his head, with aim so true, that he fell back on his saddle like a sack, and thus when the horse galloped up to me, I had no difficulty in dismounting the rider : the whiskey- bottle struck him over his right eye, and he was completely stunned. To dash hjm from the saddle and spring myself into it, was the work of a moment ; indeed, the two combats had taken place in about a fifth part of the time which it has taken the reader to peruse the description. But in the rapidity of the last encounter, and the mounting of my enemy's horse, I had committed a very absurd oversight — I was scampering away •without my sword! What was I to do ? — to scamper on, to be sure, and trust to the legs of my horse for safety ! The lancer behind me gained on me every moment, and I could hear his horrid laugh as he neared me. I leaned forward jockey fashion in my saddle, and kicked, and urged, and flogged with my hand, but all in vain. Closer — closer — the ^oint of his lance was within two feet of my back. Ah ! ah ! he delivered the point, and fancy my agony when I felt it enter — through exactly fifty-nine pages of the New Monthly Magazine. Had it not been for that Magazine, I should have been impaled with- out a shadow of a doubt. Was I wrong in feeling gratitude ? Had I not cause to continue my contributions to that peri- odical ! When I got safe into Morella, along with the tail of the sallying party, I was for the first time made acquainted with the ridiculous result of the lancer's thrust (as he delivered his lance, I must tell you that a ball came whizz over my head from our fellows, and entering at his nose, put a stop to his lancing for the future). I hastened to Cabrera's quarter, and related to him some of my adventures during the day. 1 66 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES " But, General," said he, you are standing. I beg you chiudete Piiscio (take a chair)." I did so, and then for the first time was aware that there was some foreign subtance in the tail of my coat, which pre- vented my sitting at ease. I drew out the Magazine which I had seized, and there, to my wonder, discovered the Christina lance twisted up like a fish-hook, or a pastoral crook. " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " said Cabrera (who is a notorious wag). " Valdepenas madrilenos," growled out Tristany. " By my cachuca di caballero (upon my honor as a gentle- man)," shrieked out Ros d'Eroles, convulsed with laughter, " I will send it to the Bishop of Leon for a crozier." " Gahagan has consecrated it," giggled out Ramon Cabrera ; and so they went on with their muchacas for an hour or more. But, when they heard that the means of my salvation from the lance of the scoundrelly Christino had been the Magazine containing my own history, their laugh was changed into wonder. I read them (speaking Spanish more fluently than English) every word of my story. " But how is this ? " said Cabrera. " You surely have other adventures to relate ? " " Excellent Sir," said I, " I have ;" and that very evening, as we sat over our cups of tertullia (sangaree), I continued my narrative in nearly the following words : — " I left off in the very middle of the battle of Delhi, which ended, as everybody knows, in the complete triumph of the British arms. But who gained the battle ? Lord Lake is called Viscount Lake of Delhi and Laswaree, while Major Gaha — nonsense, never mind /;/>«, never mind the charge he executed when, sabre in hand, he leaped the six-foot wall in the mouth of the rparing cannon, over the heads of the gleaming pikes ; when, with one hand seizing the sacred peishcush, or fish — which was the banner always borne before Scindiah, — he, with his good sword, cut off the trunk of the famous white elephant, which, shrieking with agony, plunged madly into the Mahratta ranks, followed by his giant brethren, tossing, like chaff before the wind, the affrighted kitmatgars. He, meanwhile, now plunging into the midst of a battalion of consomahs, now cleaving to the chine a screaming and ferocious bobbachee,* rushed on, like the simoom across the red Zaharan plain, killing, with his own hand, a hundred and forty-thr but never mind —- alo7ie ne did it ;^ sufficient be it for him, however, that the * The double-jointed camel of Bactria, which the classic reader may recollect is raen« tioned by Suidas (in liis Commentary on the Flight •£ Darius), is so called by th« Mahrattas. OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. l6y victory was won : he cares not for the empty honors which were awarded to more fortunate men ! " We marched after the battle to Delhi, where poor blind old Shah Allum received us, and bestowed all kinds of honors and titles on our General. As each of the officers passed before him, the Shah did not fail to remark my person,* and was told my name. " Lord Lake whispered to him my exploits, and the old man was so delighted with the account of my victory over the elephant (whose trunk I use to this day), that he said, * Let him be called Gujputi,' or the lord of elephants ; and Gujputi was the name by which I was afterwards familiarly known among the natives, — the men, that is. The women had a softer appel- lation for me, and called me ' Mushook,' or charmer. " Well, I shall not describe Delhi, which is doubtless well known to the reader ; nor the siege of Agra, to which place we went from Delhi ; nor the terrible day at Laswaree, which went nigh to finish the war. Suffice it to say that we were victori- ous, and that I was wounded ; as I have invariably been in the two hundred and four occasions when I have found myself in action. One point, however, became in the course of this cam- paign quite evident — that something 77iust be done for Gahagan. The country cried shame, the King's troops grumbled, the sepoys openly murmured that theirGujputi was only a lieutenant, when he had performed such signal services. What was to be done ? Lord Wellesley was in an evident quandary. ' Gahagan,' wrote he, ' to be a subaltern is evidently not your fate — you were born for command ; but Lake and General Wellesley are good officers, they cannot be turned out — I must make a post for you. What say you, my dear fellow, to a corps of irregular horse 'i ' " It was thus that the famous corps of Ahmednuggar Irregulars had its origin ; a guerilla force, it is true, but one which will long be remembered in the annals of our Indian campaigns. " As the commander of this regiment, I was allowed to settle the uniform of the corps, as well as to select recruits. These were not wanting as soon as my appointment was made known, but came flocking to my standard a great deal faster than to the regular corps in the Company's service. I had European officers, of course, to command them, and a few of my country- _ ♦ There is some trifling inconsistency on the Major's part. Shah Allum was notoriouslj blind ; how, then, could he have seen Gahagan ? The thing is manifestly impossible. i68 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES men as sergeants ; the rest were all natives, whom I chose of the strongest and bravest men in India : chiefly Pitans, Afghans, Hurrumzadehs, and Calliawns : for these are well known to be the most warlike districts of our Indian territory, " When on parade and in full uniform we made a singular and noble appearance. I was always fond of dress ; and, in this instance, gave a carte blanche to my taste, and invented the most splendid costume that ever perhaps decorated a sol- dier. I am, as I have stated already, six feet four inches in height, and of matchless symmetry and proportion. My hair and beard are of the most brilliant auburn, so bright as scarcely to be distinguished at a distance from scarlet. My eyes are bright blue, overshadowed by bushy eyebrows of the color of my hair, and a terrific gash of the deepest purple, which goes over the forehead, the eyelid, and the cheek, and finishes at the ear, gives my face a more strictly military appearance than can be conceived. When I have been drinking (as is pretty often the case) this gash becomes ruby bright, and as I have another which took off a piece of my under-lip, and shows five of my front teeth, I leave you to imagine that ' seldom lighted on the earth ' (as the monster Burke remarked of one of his unhappy victims) ' a more extraordinary vision.' I improved these natural advantages ; and, while in cantonment during the hot winds at Chitty-bobbary, allowed my hair to grow very long, as did my beard, which reached to my waist. It took me two hours daily to curl my hair in ten thousand little cork-screw ringlets, which waved over my shoulders, and to get my mus- taches well round to the corners of my eyelids. I dressed in loose scarlet trousers and red morocco boots, a scarlet jacket, and a shawl of the same color round my waist ; a scarlet turban three feet high, and decorated with a tuft of the scarlet feathers of the flamingo, formed my head-dress, and I did not allow myself a single ornament, except a small silver skull and cross-bones in front of my turban. Two brace of pistols, a Malay creese, and a tulwar, sharp on both sides, and very nearly six feet in length, completed this elegant costume. My two flags were each surmounted with a real skull and cross-bones, and orna- mented, one with a black, and the other with a red beard (of enormous length, taken from men slain in battle by me). On one flag were of course the arms of John Company ; on the other, an image of myself bestriding a prostrate elephant, with the simple word ' Gujputi ' written underneath in the Nagaree, Persian and Sanscrit characters, I rode my black horse, and looked, by the immortal gods, like Mars. To me might be OF MAJOR GAHAGAN: l6^ applied the words which were written concerning handsome General Webb, In Marlborough's time ; — " * To noble danger he conducts the way. His great example all his troop obey, Before the front the Major sternly ndes. With such an air as Mars to battle strides. Propitious heaven must sure a hero save Like Paris handsome, and like Hector brave I' " My officers (Captains Biggs and Mackanulty, Lieutenants Glogger, Pappendick, Stufifft, &c., &c.,) were dressed exactly in the same way, but in yellow ; and the men were similarly equipped, but in black. I have seen many regiments since, and many ferocious-looking men, but the Ahmednuggar Irregu- lars were more dreadful to the view than any set of ruffians on which I ever set eyes. I would to heaven that the Czar of Muscovy had passed through Cabool and Lahore, and that I with my old Ahmednuggars stood on a fair field to meet him ! Bless you, bless you, my swart companions in victory ! through the mist of twenty years I hear the booming of your war-cry, and mark the glitter of your scimitars as ye rage in the thickest of the battle ! * " But away with melancholy reminiscences. You may fancy what a figure the Irregulars cut on a field-day — a line of five hundred black-faced, black-dressed, black-horsed, black-bearded men — Biggs, Glogger, and the other officers in yellow, gal- loping about the field like flashes of lightning; myself en- lightening them, red, solitary, and majestic, like yon glorious orb in heaven. " There are very few men, I presume, who have not heard of Holkar's sudden and gallant incursion into the Dooab, in the year 1804, when we thought that the victory of Laswaree and the brilliant success at Deeg had completely finished him. Taking ten thousand horse he broke up his camp at Palimbang; and the first thing General Lake heard of him was, that he was at Putna, then at Rumpooge, then at Doncaradam — he was, in fact, in the very heart of our territory. "The unfortunate part of the affair was this : — His Excel- lency, despising the Mahratta chieftain, had allowed him to advance about two thousand miles in his front, and knew not in the slightest degree where to lay hold on him. Was he at Hazarubaug ? was he at Bogly Gunge t nobody knew, and * I do not wish to bra? of my style of writing, or to pretend that my genius as a writer has not been equalled in former times; but if, in the works of Byron Scott, Goethe, or Vic- tor Hugo, the reader can find a more beautiful sentence than the above, I will be obliged to him, that is all— I simply say, ' will be oblized to hhn.—Q. O'G. G., M. H. E. I. C S« CI. H. A. lyo THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES for a considerable period the movements of Lake's cavalry were quite ambiguous, uncertain, promiscuous, and undeter* mined. " Such, briefly, was the state of affairs in October, 1804. At the beginning of that month I had been wounded (a trifling scratch, cutting off my left upper eyelid, a bit of my cheek, and my under-lip), and I was obliged to leave Biggs in command of my Irregulars whilst I retired for my wounds to an English station at Furruckabad, alias FuUyghur — it is, as every two- penny postman knows, at the apex of the Dooab. We have there a cantonment, and thither I went for the mere sake of the surgeon and the sticking-plaster. " Furruckabad, then, is divided into two districts or towns : the lower Cotwal, inhabited by the natives, and the upper (which is fortified slightly, and has all along been called Futty- ghur, meaning in Hindustanee ' the-favorite-resort-of-the-white- faced-Feringhees-near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram') oc- cupied by Europeans. (It is astonishing, by the way, how comprehensive that language is, and how much can be conveyed in one or two of the commonest phrases.) "Biggs, then, and my men were playing all sorts of won- drous pranks with Lord Lake's army, whilst I w^as detained an unwilling prisoner of health at Futtyghur, "An unwilling prisoner, however, I should not sa)^ The cantonment at Futtyghur contained that which would have made any man a happy slave. Woman, lovely woman, was there in abundance and variety ! The fact is, that, when the campaign commenced in 1803, the ladies of the army all con- gregated to this place, where they were left, as it was supposed, in safety. I might, like Homer, relate the names and qualities of all. I may at least mention some whose memory is still most dear to me. There was — "Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, wife of Bulcher of the in- fantry. " Miss Bulcher. " Miss Belinda Bulcher (whose name I beg the printer to put in large capitals). " Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy. " Mrs. Major Macan and the four Misses Ma?an. "The Honorable Mrs. Burgoo, Mrs. Flix, Hicks, Wicks, and many more too numerous to mention. The flower of our camp was, however, collected there, and the last words of Lord Lake to me, as I left him, were, ' Gahagan, I commit those women to your charge. Guard them with your life, watch OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 1 71 over them with your honor, defend them with the matchless power of your indomitable arm." " Futtyghur is, as I have said, a European station, and the pretty air of the bungalows, amid the clustering topes of mango- trees, has often ere this excited the admiration of the tourist and sketcher. On the brow of a hill — the Burrumpooter river rolls majestically at its base ; and no spot, in a word, can be conceived more exquisitely arranged, both by art and nature, as a favorite residence of the British fair. Mrs. Bulcher, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy, and the other married ladies above men- tioned, had each of them delightful bungalows and gardens in the place, and between one cottage and another my time passed as delightfully as can the hours of any man who is away from his darling occupation of war. " I was the commandant of the fort. It is a little insignif- icant pettah, defended simply by a couple of gabions, a very ordinary counterscarp, and a bomb-proof embrasure. On the top of this my flag was planted, and the small garrison of forty men only were comfortably barracked off in the casemates within. A surgeon and two chaplains (there were besides three reverend gentlemen of amateur missions, who lived in the town,) completed, as I may say, the garrison of our little fort- alice, which I was left to defend and to command. " On the night of the first of November, in the year 1804, I had invited Mrs. Major-General Bulcher and her daughters, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy, and, indeed, all the ladies in the can- tonment, to a little festival in honor of the recovery of my health, of the commencement of the shooting season, and indeed as a farewell visit, for it was my intention to take dawk the very next morning and return to my regiment. The three amateur missionaries whom I have mentioned, and some ladies in the cantonment of very rigid religious principles, refused to appear at my little party. They had better never have been born than have done as they did : as you shall hear. "We had been dancing merrily all night, and the supper (chiefly of the delicate condor, the luscious adjutant, and other birds of a similar kind, which I had shot in the course of the day) had been di\i\.y feted by every lady and gentleman present ,• when I took an opportunity to retire on the ramparts, with the interesting and lovely Belinda Bulcher. I was occupied, as the French say, in conter-\x\g fleureftes to this sweet young creature, when, all of a sudden, a rocket was seen whizzing through the air, and a strong light was visible in the valley below the little fort 172 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES " ' What, fireworks ! Captain Gahagan,' said Belinda ; ' thib is too gallant.' "'Indeed, my dear Miss Bulcher,' said I, 'they are fire- works of which I have no idea : perhaps our friends the mis- sionaries ' " Look, look ! ' said Belinda, trembling, and clutching tightly hold of my arm : ' what do I see ? yes — no — yes ! it is — our bungalow is i?i flames ! ' " It was true, the spacious bungalow occupied by Mrs. Major-General was at that moment seen a prey to the devour- ing element — another and another succeeded it — seven bunga- lows, before I could almost ejaculate the name of Jack Robin- son, were seen blazing brightly in the black midnight air ! " I seized my night-glass, and looking towards the spot where the conflagration raged, what was my astonishment to see thousands of black forms dancing round the fires ; whilst by their lights I could observe columns after colunms of Indian horse, arriving and taking up their ground in the ver}^ middle of the open square or tank, round which the bungalows were built ! " ' Ho, warder ! ' shouted I (while the frightened and trem- bling Belinda clung closer to my side, and pressed the stalwart arm that encircled her waist), ' down with the drawbridge ! see that your masolgees' (small tumbrels which are used in place of large artillery) ' be well loaded : you, sepoys, hasten and man the ravelin ! you, choprasees, put out the lights in the em- brasures ! we shall have warm work of it to-night, or my name is not Goliah Gahagan.' " The ladies, the guests (to the number of eighty-three), the sepoys, choprasees, masolgees, and so on, had all crowded on the platform at the sound of my shouting, and dreadful was the consternation, shrill the screaming, occasioned by my words. The men stood irresolute and mute with terror ! the women, trembling, knew scarcely whither to fly for refuge. ' Who are yonder ruffians?' said I. A hundred voices yelped in reply — some said the Pindarees, some said the Mahrattas, some vowed it was Scindiah, and others declared it was Holkar — no one knew. " ' Is there any one here,' said I, ' who will venture to recon- noitre yonder troops ? ' There was a dead pause. " * A thousand tomauns to the man who will bring me news of yonder army ! ' again I repeated. Still a dead silence. The fact was that Scindiah and Holkar both were so notorious for their cruelty, that no one dared venture to face the danger. •Oh for fifty of my brave Ahmednuggarees 1 ' thought I. OF MAJOR GAHAGAN, 173 " * Gentlemen,' said I, *I see it — ^ovl are cowards — none of you dare encounter the chance even of death. It is an encour- aging prospect : know you not that the ruffian Holkar, if it be he, will with the morrow's dawn beleaguer our little fort, and throw thousands of men against our walls ? know you not that, if we are taken, there is no quarter, no hope ; death for us— and worse than death for these lovely ones assembled here ?' Here the ladies shrieked and raised a howl as I have heard the jackals on a summer's evening. Belinda, my dear Belinda! flung both her arms round me, and sobbed on my shoulder (or in my waistcoat-pocket rather, for the little witch could reach no higher). " ' Captain Gahagan,' sobbed she, * Go — Go— Goggle — iah /' " ' My soul's adored ! ' replied I. " ' Swear to me one thing.' " ' I swear.' " ' That if — that if — the nasty, horrid, odious black Mah- ra-a-a-attahs take the fort, you will put me out of their power.' " I clasped the dear girl to my heart, and swore upon my sword that, rather than she should incur the risk of dishonor, she should perish by my own hand. This comforted her ; and her mother, Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, and her elder sister, who had not until now known a word of our attachment, (in- deed, but for these extraordinary circumstances, it is probable that we ourselves should never have discovered it), were under these painful circumstances made aware of my beloved Belinda's partiality for me. Having communicated thus her wish of "self- destruction, I thought her example a touching and excellent one, and proposed to all the ladies that they should follow it, and that at the entry of the enemy into the fort, and at a signal given by me, they should one and all make away with them- selves. Fancy my disgust when, after making this proposition, not one of the ladies chose to accede to it, and received it with the same chilling denial that my former proposal to the garrison had met with. "In the midst of this hurry and confusion, as if purposely to add to it, a trumpet was heard at the gate of the fort, and one of the sentinels came running to me, saying that a Mahratta soldier was before the gate with a flag of truce ! " I went down, rightly conjecturing, as it turned out, that the party, whoever they might be, had no artillery; and re- ceived at the point of my sword a scroll, of which the following is a translation : — t2 174 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES "TO GOLIAH GAHAGAN GUJPUTL " ' Lord of Elephants, Sir, — I have the honor to inform you that I arrived before this place at eight o'clock p. m. with ten thousand cavalry under my orders. I have burned, since my arrival, seventeen bungalows in Furruckabad and Futtyghur, and have likewise been under the painful necessity of putting to death three clergymen (mollahs), and seven English officers, whom I found in the village ; the women have been transferred to safe keeping in the harems of my officers and myself. " ' As I know your courage and talents, I shall be very happy if you will surrender the fortress, and take service as a major-general (hookahbadar) in my army. Should my proposal not meet with your assent, I beg leave to state that to-morrow I shall storm the fort, and on taking it, shall put to death every male in the garrison, and every female above twenty years of age. For yourself I shall reserve a punishment, which for novelty and exquisite torture has, I flatter myself, hardly ever been exceeded. Awaiting the favor of a reply, I am, Sir, " ' Your very obedient servant, " ' Jeswunt Row Holkar. ** ' Camp before Futtyghur^ Sept. \, 1804. " ' R. S. V. P.' " The officer who had brought this precious epistle (it is astonishing how Holkar had aped the forms of English cor- respondence), an enormous Pitan soldier, with a shirt of mail, and a steel cap and cape, round which his turban wound, was leaning against the gate on his matchlock, and whistling a national melody. I read the letter, and saw at once there was no time to be lost. That man, thought I, must never go back to Holkar. Were he to attack us now before we were pre- pared, the fort would be his in half an hour, " Tying my white pocket-handkerchief to a stick, I flung open the gate and advanced to the officer ; he was standing, I said, on the little bridge across the moat. I made him a low salaam, after the fashion of the country, and, as he bent for- ward to return the compliment, I am sorry to say, I plunged forward, gave him a violent blow on the head, which deprived him of all sensation, and then dragged him within the wall, raising the drawbridge after me. " I bore the body into my own apartment ; there, swift as thought, I. stripped him of his turban, cammerbund, peijam- mahs, and papooshes, and, putting them on myself, determined to go forth and reconnoitre the enemy." OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. lyg • * * # * Here I was obliged to stop, for Cabrera, Ros d'Eroles, and the rest of the staff, were sound asleep ! What I did in my reconnaissance, and how I defended the fort of Futtyghur, I shall have the honor of telling on another occasion. Chapter IV. THE INDIAN CAMP — THE SORTIE FROM THE FORT. Head-Quarters, Morella, Oct. 3, 1838. It is a .balmy night. I hear the merry jingle of the tam- bourine, and the cheery voices of the girls and peasants, as they dance beneath my casement, under the shadow of the clustering vines. The laugh and song pass gayly rovuid, and even at this distance I can distinguish the elegant form of Ramon Cabrera, as he whispers gay nothings in the ears of the Andalusian girls, or joins in the thrilling chorus of Riego's hymn, which is ever and anon vociferated by the enthusiastic soldiery of Carlos Quinto. I am alone, in the most inacces- sible and most bomb-proof tower of our little fortalice ; the large casements are open — the wind, as it enters, whispers in my ear its odorous recollections of the orange grove and the myrtle bower. My torch (a branch of the fragrant cedar-tree) flares and flickefs in the midnight breeze, and disperses its scent and burning splinters on my scroll and the desk where I write — meet implements for a soldier's authorship ! — it is car- tridge paper over which my pen runs so glibly, and a yawning barrel of gunpowder forms my rough writing-table. Around me, below me, above me, all — all is peace ! I think, as I sit here so lonely, on my country, England ! and muse over the sweet and bitter recollections of my early days ! Let me resume my narrative, at the point where (interrupted by the authoritative summons of war) I paused on the last occasion. I left off, I think — (for I am a thousand miles away from proof-sheets as I write, and, were I not writing the simple TRUTH, must contradict myself a thousand times in the course of my tale) — I think, I say, that I left off at that period of my story, when, Holkar being before Futtyghur, and I in com* tj6 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES mand of that fortress, I had just been compelled to make away with his messenger ; and, dressed in the fallen Indian's accou- trements, went forth to reconnoitre the force, and, if possible, to learn the intentions of the enemy. However much my figure might have resembled that of the Pitan, and, disguised in his armor, might have deceived the lynx-eyed Mahrattas, into whose camp I was about to plunge, it was evident that a single glance at my fair face and auburn beard would have undeceived the dullest blockhead in Holkar's army. Seizing, then a bottle of Burgess's walnut catsup, I dyed my face and my hands, and, with the simple aid of a flask of Warren's jet, I made my hair and beard as black as ebony. The Indian's helmet and chain hood covered likewise a great part of my face, and I hoped thus, with luck, impudence, and a complete command of all the Eastern dialects and languages, from Burmah to Afghanis- tan, to pass scot-free through this somewhat dangerous ordeal. I had not the word of the night, it is true — but I trusted to good fortune for that, and passed boldly out of the fortress, bearing the flag of truce as before ; I had scarcely passed on a couple of hundred yards, when lo ! a party of Indian horse* men, armed like him I had just overcome, trotted towards me. One was leading a. noble white charger, and no sooner did he see me than, dismounting from his own horse, and giving the rein to a companion, he advanced to meet me with the charger ; a second fellow likewise dismounted and followed the first ; one held the bridle of the horse, while the other (with a multi- tude of salaams, aleikums, and other genuflexions,) held the jewelled stirrup, and kneeling, waited until I should mount. I took the hint at once : the Indian who had come up to the fort was a great man — that was evident ; I walked on with a majestic air, gathered up the velvet reins, and sprung into the magnificent high-peaked saddle. " Buk, buk," said I. " It is good. In the name of the forty-nine Imaums, let us ride on." And the whole party set off at a brisk trot, I keeping silence, and thinking with no little trepidation of what I was about to encounter. As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting upon my unusual silence (for I suppose, I — that is the Indian — was a talkative officer). "The lips of the Bahawder are closed," said one. "Where are those birds of Paradise, his long-tailed words ? they are imprisoned between the golden bars of his teeth ! " " Kush," said his companion, " be quiet ! Bobbachy Bahaw dcr has seen the dreadful Feringhee, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. lyy the elephant-Mr J, whose sword reaps the harvest of death ; there is but one champion who can wear the papooshes of the elephant-slayer — it is Bobbachy Bahawder! " " You speak truly, Puneeree Muckun, the Bahawder rumi- nates on the words of the unbeliever : he is an ostrich, and hatches the eggs of his thoughts." *' Bekhusm ! on my nose be it ! May the young birds, his actions, be strong and swift in flight." " May they digest iron /" said Puneeree Muckun, who was evidently a wag in his way. " 0-ho ! " thought I, as suddenly the light flashed upon me. " It was, then, the famous Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I over- came just now ! and he is the man destined to stand in my slippers, is he ? " and I was at that very moment standing in his own ! Such are the chances and changes that fall to the lot of the soldier ! I suppose everybody — everybody who has been in India, at least — has heard the name of Bobbachy Bahawder : it is de- rived from the two Hindustanee words — bobbachy^ general ; bahawder, artilleryman. He had entered into Holkar's service in the latter capacity, and had, by his merit and undaunt- ed bravery in action, attained the dignity of the peacock's feather, which is only granted to noblemen of the first class ; he was married, moreover, to one of Holkar's innumerable daughters : a match which, according to the Chronique Scanda- leuse, brought more of honor than of pleasure to the poor Bob- bachy. Gallant as he was in the field, it was said that in the harem he was the veriest craven alive, completely subjugated by his ugly and odious wife. In all matters of importance the late Bahawder had been consulted by his prince, who had, as it appears, (knowing my character, and not caring to do any- thing rash in his attack upon so formidable an enemy,) sent forward the unfortunate Pitan to reconnoitre the fort ; he was to have done yet more, as I learned from the attendant Pu- neeree Muckun, who was, I soon found out, an old favorite with the Bobbachy — doubtless on account of his honesty and love of repartee. " The Bahawder's lips are closed," said he, as last, trotting up to me ; " has he not a word for old Puneeree Muckun 1 " " Bismillah, mashallah, barikallah,' said I ; which means, " My good friend, what I have seen is not worth the trouble of relation, and fills my bosom with the darkest forebodings." " You could not then see the Gujputi alone, and stab hinj with your dagger ? " 1^8 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES [Here was a pretty conspiracy !] " No, I saw him, but not alone ; his people were always with him." " Hurrumzadeh ! it is a pity ; we waited but the sound of your jogree (whistle), and straightway would have galloped up and seized upon every man, woman, and child in the fort : how- ever, there are but a dozen men in the garrison, and they have not provision for two days — they must 3aeld ; and then hurrah for the moon-faces ! Mashallah ! I am told the soldiers who first get in are to have their pick. How my old woman, Rotee Muckun, will be surprised when I bring home a couple of Fer- inghee wives, — ha ! ha ! " " Fool ! " said I, " be still ! — twelve men in the garrison ! there are twelve hundred ! Gahagan himself is as good as a thousand men ; and as for food, I saw with my own eyes five hundred bullocks grazing in the court-yard as I entered." This was a bouncer, I confess ; but my object was to deceive Pu- neeree Muckun, and give him as high a notion as possible of the capabilities of defence which the besieged had. " Pooch, pooch," murmured the men ; "it is a wonder of a fortress : we shall never be able to take it until our guns come up." There was hope then ! they had no battering-train. Ere this arrived, I trusted that Lord Lake would hear of our plight, and march down to rescue us. Thus occupied in thought and conversation, we rode on until the advanced sentinel challenged us, when old Puneeree gave the word, and we passed on into the centre of Holkar's camp. It was a strange — a stirring sight ! The camp-fires were lighted ; and round them — eating, reposing, talking, looking at the merry steps of the dancing-girls, or listening to the stories of some Dhol Baut (or Indian improvisatore) — were thousands of dusky soldiery. The camels and horses were picketed under the banyan-trees, on which the ripe mango fruit was growing, and offered them an excellent food. Towards the spot which the golden fish and royal purdahs, floating in the wind, des- ignated as the tent of Holkar, led an immense avenue — of elephants ! the finest street, indeed, I ever saw. Each of the monstrous animals had a castle on its back, armed with Mauri- tanian archers and the celebrated Persian matchlock-men ! it was the feeding time of these royal brutes, and the grooms were observed bringing immense toffungs, or baskets, filled with pine-apples, plantains, bananas, Indian corn, and cocoa-nuts, which grow luxuriantly at all seasons of the year. We passed down this extraordinary avenue — no less than three hundred OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. i^g and eighty-eight tails did I count on each side — each tail as pertaining to an elephant twenty-five feet high — each elephant having a two-storied castle on its back — each castle contain- ing sleeping and eating rooms for the twelve men that formed its garrison, and were keeping watch on the roof — each roof bearing a flag-staff twenty feet long on its top, the crescent glittering with a thousand gems, and round it the imperial standard, — each standard of silk velvet and cloth-of-gold, bear- ing the well-known device of Holkar, argent an or gules, be- tween a sinople of the first, a chevron, truncated, wavy. I took nine of these myself in the course of a very short time after, and shall be happy, when I come to England, to show them to any gentleman who has a curiosity that way. Through this gorgeous scene our little cavalcade passed, and at last we arrived at the quarters occupied by Holkar, That celebrated chieftain's tents and followers were gathered round one of the British bungalows which had escaped the flames, and which he occupied during the siege. When I entered the large room where he sat, I found him in the midst of a council of war ; his chief generals and viziers seated round him, each smoking his hookah, as is the common way with these black fellows, before, at, and after breakfast, dinner, supper, and bedtime. Tliere was such a cloud raised by their smoke you could hardly see a yard before you — another piece of good luck for me — as it diminished the chances of my detec- tion. When, with the ordinary ceremonies, the kitmatgars and consomahs had explained to the prince that Eobbachy Bahawder, the right eye of the Sun of the universe (as the ignorant hea- thens called me), had arrived from his mission, Holkar imme- diately summoned me to the maidaun, or elevated platform, on which he was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, and I, instantly taking off my slippers, falling on my knees, and beating my head against the ground ninety-nine times, proceeded, still on my knees, a hundred and twenty feet through the room, and then up the twenty steps which led to his maidaun — a silly, painful, and disgusting ceremony, which can only be con- sidered as a relic of barbarian darkness, which tears the knees and shins to pieces, let alone the pantaloons. I recommend anybody who goes to India, with the prospect of entering the service of the native rajahs, to recollect my advice, and have them well wadded. Well, the right eye of the Sun of the universe scrambled as well as he could up the steps of the maidaun (on which, in rows, smoking, as I have said, the musnuds or general officers l8o THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES were seated), and I arrived within speaking-distance of Holkar, who instantly asked me the success of my mission. The im- petuous old man thereon poured out a multitude of questions : " How many men are there in the fort ? " said he ; " how many women ? Is it victualled ? have they ammunition ? Did you see Gahagan Sahib, the commander ? did you kill him ? " All these questions Jeswunt Row Holkar puffed out with so many whiffs of tobacco. Taking a chillum myself, and raising about me such a cloud that, upon my honor as a gentleman, no man at three yards' distance could perceive anything of me except the pillar of smoke in which I was encompassed, I told Holkar, in Oriental language of course, the best tale I could with regard tc the fort. *' Sir," said I, " to answer your last question first — that dreadful Gujputi I have seen — and he is alive : he is eight feet, nearly, in height ; he can eat a bullock daily (of which he has seven hundred at present in the compound, and swears that during the siege he will content himself with only three a week) : he has lost, in battle, his left eye ; and what is the consequence? O Ram Gunge" (O thou-with-the-eye-as-bright- as-morning and-with-beard-as-black-as-night), "Goliah Gujputi NEVER SLEEPS ! " " Ah, you Ghorumsaug (you thief of the world,) " said th« Prince Vizier, Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee — " it's joking you are • " — and there was a universal buzz through the room at the announcement of this bouncer. " By the hundred and eleven incarnations of Vishnu," said I, solemnly (an oath which no Indian was ever known to break), " I swear that so it is : so at least he told me, and I have good cause to know his power. Gujputi is an enchanter: he is leagued with devils ; he is invulnerable. Look," said I, unsheathing my dagger — and every eye turned instantly towards me — " thrice did I stab him with this steel — in the back, once — twice right through the heart ; but he only laughed me to scorn, and bade me tell Holkar that the steel was not yet forged which was to inflict an injury upon him." I never saw a man in such a rage as Holkar was when I gave him this somewhat imprudent message. "Ah, lily-livered rogue!" shouted he out to me, "milk- blooded unbeliever ! pale-faced miscreant ! lives he after in- sulting thy master in thy presence ? In the name of the Prophet, I spit on thee, defy thee, abhor thee, degrade thee ! Take that, thou liar of the universe ! and that — and that — and thatl" OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. l8i Such are the frightful excesses of barbaric minds ! every time this old man said, " Take that," he flung some article near him at the head of the undaunted Gahagan — his dagger, his sword, his carbine, his richly ornamented pistols, his turban covered with jewels, worth a hundred thousand crores of rupees — finally, his hookah, snake mouthpiece, silver-bell, chillum and all — which went hissing over my head, and flattening into a jelly the nose of the Grand Vizier. " Yock muzzee ! " my nose is ofif," said the old man, mildly. *' Will you have my life, O Holkar ? it is thine likewise ! " and no other word of complaint escaped his lips. Of all these missiles, though a pistol and carbine had gone off as the ferocious Indian flung them at my head, and the naked scimitar, fiercely but adroitly thrown, had lopped off the limbs of one or two of the musnuds as they sat trembling on their omrahs, yet, strange to say, not a single weapon had hurt me. When the hubbub ceased, and the unlucky wretches who had been the victims of this fit of rage had been removed, Holkar's good-humor somewhat returned, and he allowed me to continue my account of the fort ; which I did, not taking the slightest notice of his burst of impatience : as indeed it would have been the height of impoliteness to have done, for such accidents happened many times in the day. " It is well that the Bobbachy has returned," snufiled out the poor Grand Vizier, after I had explained to the Council the extraordinary means of defence possessed by the garrison. " Your star is bright, O Bahawder ! for this very night we had resolved upon an escalade of the fort, and he had swore to put every one of the infidel garrison to the edge of the sword." " But you have no battering train," said I. "Bah ! we have a couple of ninety-six pounders, quite suffi- cient to blow the gates open ; and then, hey for a charge ! " said Loll Mahommed, a general of cavalry, who was a rival of Bobbachy's, and contradicted, therefore, every word I said. " In the name of Juggernaut, why wait for the heavy artillery ! Have we not swords ? Have we not hearts ? Mashallah ! Let cravens stay with Bobbachy, all true men will follow Loll Mahommed ! Allahhumdillah, Bismillah, Barikallah ? " * and drawing his scimitar, he waved it over his head, and shouted out his cry of battle. It was repeated by many of the other omrahs ; the sound of their cheers was carried into the camp, * The Major has put the most approved language into the mouths of his Indian char- tcters. Bismillah, Barikillah, and so on, according to the novelists, form the very essenot oi Eastern conversation. l82 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES and caught up by the men ; the camels began to cry, the horses to prance and neigh, the eight hundred elephants set up a scream, the trumpeters and drummers clanged away at their in- struments. I never heard such a din before or after. How I trembled for my little garrison when I heard the enthusiastic cries of this innumerable host ! There was but one way for it. " Sir," said I, addressing Holkar, "go out to-night, and you go to certain death. Loll Mahommed has not seen the fort as I have. Pass the gate if you please, and for what ? to fall before the fire of a hundred pieces of artillery ; to storm another gate, and then another, and then to be blown up, with Gahagan's garrison in the citadel. Who talks of courage .'' Were I not in your august presence, O star of the faithful, I would crop Loll Mahommed's nose from his face, and wear his ears as an ornament in my own pugree ! Who is there here that knows not the difference between yonder yellow-skinned coward and Gahagan Khan Guj — I mean Bob- bachy Bahawder ? I am ready to fight one, two, three, or twenty of them, at broad-sword, small-sword, single-stick, with fists, if you please. By the holy piper, fighting is like mate and dthrink to Ga — to Bobbachy, I mane — whoop ! come on, you divvle, and I'll bate the skin off your ugly bones." This speech had very nearly proved fatal to me, for, when I am agitated, I involuntarily adopt some of the phraseology peculiar to my own country ; which is so un-eastern, that, had there been any suspicion as to my real character, detection must indubitably have ensued. As it was, Holkar perceived nothing, but instantaneously stopped the dispute. Loll Mahommed, however, evidently suspected something, for, as Holkar, with a voice of thunder, shouted out, " Tomasha (silence)," Loll sprang forward and gasped out — ■ " My lord ! my lord ! this is not Bob " But he could say no more. " Gag the slave ! " screamed out Holkar, stamping with fury ; and a turban was instantly twisted round the poor devil's jaws. " Ho, furoshes ! carry out Loll Mahommed Khan, give him a hundred dozen on the soles of his feet, set him upon a white donkey, and carry him round the camp, with an inscription before him : *' This is the way that Holkar rewards the talkative.' " I breathed again ; and ever as I heard each whack of the bamboo falling on Loll Mahommed's feet, I felt peace returning to my mind, and thanked my stars that I was delivered of this danger. " Vizier," said Holkar, who enjoyed Loll's roars amazingly. OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 183 " I owe you a reparation for your nose : kiss the hand of your prince, Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee ! be from this day forth Zoheir u Dowlut ! " The good old man's eyes filled with tears. " I can bear thy severity, O Prince," said he ; " I cannot bear thy love. Was it not an honor that your Highness did me just now when you con- descended to pass over the bridge of your slave's nose?" The phrase was by all voices pronounced to be very poeti- cal. The Vizier retired, crowned with his new honors, to bed. Holkar was in high good humor. " Bobbachy," said he, " thou, too, must pardon me, A propos, I have news for thee. Your wife, the incomparable Puttee Rooge " (white and red rose), " has arrived in camp." " My wife, my lord ! " said I, aghast. " Our daughter, the light of thine eyes ! Go, my son ; I see thou art wild with joy. The Princess's tents are set up close by mine, and I know thou longest to join her." My wife ? Here was a complication truly Chapter V. THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW WITH MY WIFE. I FOUND Puneeree Muckun, with the rest of my attendants, waiting at the gate, and they immediately conducted me to my own tents in the neighborhood. I have been in many dangerous predicaments before that time and since, but I don't care to deny that I felt in the present instance such a throbbing of the heart as I never have experienced when leading a forlorn hope, or marching up to a battery. As soon as I entered the tents a host of menials sprang for- ward, some to ease me of my armor, some to offer me refresh- ments, some with hookahs, attar of roses (in great quart bottles), and the thousand delicacies of Eastern life. I motioned them away. " I will wear my armor," said I ; " I shall go forth to- night ; carry my duty to the princess, and say I grieve that to-night I have not the time to see her. Spread me a couch here, and bring me supper here : a jar of Persian wine well cooled, a lamb stuffed with pistachio-nuts, a pillaw of a couple of turkeys, a curried kid — anything, Begone ! Give me a pipe ; leave me alone, and tell me when the meal is ready." 1 §4 THE TREMEND OUS AD VENTURES I thought by these means to put off the fair Puttee Rooge, and hoped to be able to escape without subjecting myself to the examination of her curious eyes. After smoking for a while, an attendant came to tell me that my supper was prepared in the inner apartment of the tent (I suppose that the reader, if he be possessed of the commonest intelligence, knows that the tents of the Indian grandees are made of the finest Cashmere shawls, and contain a dozen rooms at least, with carpets, chimneys, and sash-windows complete). I entered, I say, into an inner cham- ber, and there began with my fingers to devour my meal in the Oriental fashion, taking, every now and then, a pull from the wine jar, which was cooling deliciously in another jar of snow. I was just in the act of despatching the last morsel of a most savory stewed lamb and rice, which had formed my meal, when I heard a scufHe of feet, a shrill clatter of female voices, and, the curtain being flung open, in marched a lady accompanied by twelve slaves, with moon faces and slim waists, lovely as the houris in Paradise. The lady herself, to do her justice, was as great a contrast to her attendants as could possibly be : she was crooked, old, of the complexion of molasses, and rendered a thousand times more ugly by the tawdry dress and the blazing jewels with which she was covered. A line of yellow chalk drawn from her forehead to the tip of her nose (which was further ornamented by an immense glittering nose-ring), her eyelids painted bright red, and a large dab of the same color on her chin, showed she was not of the Mussulman, but the Brahmin faith — and of a very high caste ; you could see that by her eyes. My mind was instantaneously made up as to my line of action. The male attendants had of course quitted the apartment, as they heard the well-known sound of her voice. It would have been death to them to have remained and looked in her face. The females ranged themselves round their mistress, as she squatted down opposite to me. " And is this," said she, " a welcome, O Khan ! after six months' absence, for the most unfortunate and loving wife in all the world ? Is this lamb, O glutton ! half so tender as thy spouse } Is this wine, O sot ! half so sweet as her looks } " I saw the storm was brewing — her slaves, to whom she turned, kept up a kind of chorus : — " Oh, the faithless one ! " cried they. " Oh, the rascal, the false one, who has no eye for bjeauty, and no heart for love, like the Khanum's ! " " A lamb is not so sweet as love," said I gravely : " but a OF MAJOR C A HAG AN. 185 lamb has a good temper ; a wine-cup is not so intoxicating as a woman — but a wine-cup has no tongue, O Khanum Gee I " and again I dipped my nose in the soul-refreshing jar. The sweet Puttee Rooge was not, however, to be put off by my repartees ; she and lier maidens recommenced their chorus, and chattered and stormed until I lost all patience. "Retire, friends," said I, "and leave me in peace." *' Stir, on your peril ! " cried the Khanum. So, seeing there was no help for it but violence, I drew out my pistols, cocked them, and said, "O houris ! these pistols contain each too balls : the daughter of Holkar bears a sacred life for me — but for you ! — by all the saints of Hindustan, four ot ye shall die if ye stay a moment longer in my presence ! " This was enough ; the ladies gave a shriek, and skurried out of the apartment like a covey of partridges on the wing. Now, then, was the time for action. My wife, or rather Bobbachy's wife, sat still, a little flurried, by the unusual fero- city which her lord had displayed in her presence. I seized her hand and, griping it close, whispered in her ear, to which I put the other pistol : — " O Khanum, listen and scream not ; the moment you scream, you die ! " She was completely beaten ; she turned as pale as a woman could in her situation, and said, " Speak, Bobbachy Bahawder, I am dumb." "Woman," said I, taking off my helmet, and removing the chain cape which had covered almost the whole of my face — "/ am not thy husband — I am the slayer of elephants, the world-renowned Gahagan ! " As I said this, and as the long ringlets of red hair fell over my shoulders (contrasting strangely with my dyed face and beard), I formed one of the finest pictures that can possibly be conceived, and I recommend it as a subject to Mr. Heath, for the next " Book of Beauty." " Wretch ! " said she, " what wouldst thou ? " " You black-faced fiend," said I, " raise but your voice, and you are dead ! " "And afterwards," said she, "do you suppose that you can escape ? The torments of hell are not so terrible as the tor- tures that Holkar will invent for thee." " Tortures, madam ? " answered I, coolly. " Fiddlesticks ! You will neither betray me, nor will I be put to the torture : on the contrary, you will give me your best jewels and facilitate my escape to the fort. Don't grind your teeth and swear at me. Listen, madam : you know this dress and these arms ;— they are the arms of yout husband, Bobbachy Bahawder — my i86 The tremendous adventures prisoner. He now lies in yonder fort, and if I do not return before daylight, at sunrise he dies : and then, when they send his corpse back to Holkar, what will you, his widow, do ?" "Oh ! " said she, shuddering, "spare me, spare me ! " " I'll tell you what you will do. You will have the pleasure of dying along with him — of beitig 7'oasted, madam : an agonizing death, from which your father cannot save you, to which he will be the first man to condemn and conduct you. Ha ! I see we understand each other, and you will give me over the cash-box and jewels." And so saying I threw myself back with the calm- est air imaginable, flinging the pistols over to her. " Light me a pipe, my love," said I, "and then go and hand me over the dollars ; do you hear 1 " You see I had her in my power — up a tree, as the Americans say, and she very humbly lighted my pipe for me, and then departed for the goods I spoke about. What a thing is luck ! If Loll Mahommed had not been made to take that ride round the camp, I should infallibly have been lost. My supper, my quarrel with the princess, and my pipe after- wards, had occupied a couple of hours of my time. The prin- cess returned from her quest, and brought with her the box, containing valuables to the amount of about three millions sterling. (I was cheated of them afterwards, but have the box still, a plain deal one.) I was just about to take my departure, when a tremendous knocking, shouting, and screaming was heard at the entrance of the tent. It was Holkar himself, accompanied by that cursed Loll Mahommed, who, after his punishment, found his master restored to good-humor, and had communicated to him his firm conviction that I was an im- postor. " Ho, Begum ! " shouted he, in the ante-room (for he and his people could not enter the women's apartments), " speak, O my daughter ! is your husband returned ? " " Speak, madam," said I, " or remember the roasting." "He is, papa," said the Begum. " Are you sure } Ho ! ho ! ho ! " (the old ruffian was laugh- ing outside) — " are you sure it is ? — Ha ! aha ! — he-e-e /" " Indeed it is he, and no other. I pray you, father, to go, and to pass no more such shameless jests on your daughter. Have I ever seen the face of any other man ? " And hereat she began to weep as if her heart would break — the deceitful minx ! Holkar's laugh was instantly turned to fury. " Oh, you lial and eternal thief ! " said he, turning round (as I presume, iot OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 187 I could only hear) to Loll Mahommed, " to make your prince eat such monstrous dirt as this ! Furoshes, seize this man. I dismiss him from my service, I degrade him from his rank, I appropriate to myself all his property : and hark ye, furoshes, GIVE HIM A HUNDRED DOZEN MORE ! " Again I heard the whacks of the bpmboos, and peace flowed into my soul. ***** Just as morn began to break, two figures were seen to ap- proach the little fortress of Futtyghur : one was a woman wrap- ped closely in a veil, the other a warrior, remarkable for the size and manly beauty of his form, who carried in his hand a deal box of considerable size. The warrior at the gate gave the word and was admitted, the woman returned slowly to the Indian camp. Her name was Puttee Rooge ; his was — G. O'G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A. Chapter VI. FAMINE IN THE GARRISON. Thus my dangers for the night being overcome, I hastened with my precious box into my own apartment, which communi- cated with another, where I had left my prisoner, with a guard to report if he should recover, and to prevent his escape. My servant, Ghorumsaug, was one of the guard. I called him, and the fellow came, looking very much confused and frightened, as it seemed, at my appearance. " Why, Ghorumsaug," said I, " what makes thee look so pale, fellow ? " (He was as white as a sheet.) " It is thy mas- ter, dost thou not remember him ? " The man had seen me dress myself in the Pitan's clothes, but was not present when I had blacked my face and beard in the manner I have de- scribed. " O Bramah, Vishnu, and Mahomet ! " cried the faithful fellow, " and do I see my dear master disguised in this way ? For heaven's sake let me rid you of this odious black paint ; for what will the ladies say in the ball-room, if the beautiful Feringhee should appear amongst them with his roses turned into coal ? " l88 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES I am still one of the finest men in Europe, and at the time of which I write, when only two-and-twenty, I confess I was a little vain of my personal appearance, and not very willing to appear before my dear Belinda disguised like a blackamoor. I allowed Ghorumsaug to divest me of the heathenish armor and habiliments which I wore ; and having, with a world of scrub- bing and trouble, divested my face and beard of their black tinge, I put on my own becoming uniform, and hastened to wait on the ladies ; hastened, I say, — although delayed would have been the better word, for the operation of bleaching lasted at least two hours. " How is the prisoner, Ghorumsaug ? " said I, before leaving my apartment. " He has recovered from the blow which the Lion dealt him ; two men and myself watch over him ; and Macgillicuddy Sahib (the second in command) has just been the rounds, and has seen that all was secure." I bade Ghorumsaug help me to put away my chest of treas- ure (my exultation in taking it was so great that I could not help informing him of its contents) ; and this done, I de- spatched him to his post near the prisoner, while I prepared to sally forth and pay my respects to the fair creatures under my protection. " What good after all have I done," thought I to myself, " in this expedition which I had so rashly undertaken .'' " I had seen the renowned Holkar, I had been in the heart of his camp ; I knew the disposition of his troops, that there were eleven thousand of them, and that he only waited for his guns to make a regular attack on the fort. I had seen Puttee Rooge ; I had robbed her (I say robbed her, and I don't care what the reader or any other man may think of the act,) of a deal box, containing jewels to the amount of three millions sterling, the property of herself and husband. Three millions in money and jewels ! And what the deuce were money and jewels to me or to my poor garrison ? Could my adorable Miss Bulcher eat a fricassee of diamonds, or, Cleopatra-like, melt down pearls to her tea ? Could I, careless as I am about food, with a stomach that would digest anything — (once, in Spain, I ate the leg of a horse during a famine, and was so eager to swallow this morsel that I bolted the shoe, as well as the hoof, and never felt the slightest inconvenience from either), — could I, I say, expect to live long and well upon a ragout of rupees, or a dish of stewed emeralds and rubies ? With all the wealth of Croesus before me I felt melancholy, and would have paid cheerfully its weight in carats for a good OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. xSo honest round of boiled beef. Wealth, wealth, what art thou ? What is gold ? — Soft metal. What are diamonds ? — Shining tinsel. The great wealth-winners, the only fame-achievers, the sole objects worthy of a soldier's consideration, are beefsteaks, gunpowder, and cold iron. The two latter means of competency we possessed ; I had in my own apartments a small store of gunpowder (keeping it under my own bed, with a candle burning for fear of accidents) ; I had 14 pieces of artillery (4 long 48's and 4 carronades, 5 howitzers, and a long brass mortar, for grape, which I had taken myself at the battle of Assaye), and muskets for ten times my force. My garrison, as I have told the reader in a previous number, consisted of 40 men, two chaplains, and a surgeon ; add to these my guests, 83 in number, of whom nine only were gentlemen (in tights, powder, pigtails, and silk stockings, who had come out merely for a dance, and found themselves in for a siege). Such were our numbers : — Troops and artillerymen 40 Ladies 74 Other non-combatants ......... ii Major-Gen. O'G. Gahagan 1,000 1,125 I count myself good for a thousand, for so I was regularly rated in the army : with this great benefit to it, that I only con- sumed as much as an ordinary mortal. We were then, as far as the victuals went, 126 mouths ; as combatants we numbered 1,040 gallant men, with 12 guns and a fort, against Holkar and his 12,000, No such alarming odds, if — ■ If ! — ay, there was the rub — ^we had shot, as well as powder for our guns ; ?/"we had not only men but meat. Of the former commodity we had only three rounds for each piece. Of the latter, upon my sacred honor, to feed 126 souls, we had but Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer. Of soda-water, four ditto. Two bottles of fine Spanish olives. Raspberry cream — the remainder of two dishes. Seven macaroons, lying in the puddle of a demolished trifle. Half a drum of best Turkey figs. Some bits of broken bread ; two Dutch cheeses (whole) ; the crust of an old Stilton ; and about an ounce of almonds and raisins. Three ham-sandwiches, and a pot of currant-jelly, and 197 bottles of brandy, rum, madeira, pale ale (my private stock); a couple of hard eggs for a salad, and a flask of Florence oil. This was the provision for the whole garrison ! The men 13 igo HE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES after supper had seized upon the relics of the repast, as they were carried off from the table ; and tliese were the miserable remnants I found and counted on my return, taking good care to lock the door of the supper-room, and treasure what little sustenance still remained in it. When I appeared in the saloon, now lighted up by the morn- ing sun, I not only caused a sensation myself, but felt one in mj own bosom, which was of the most painful description. Oh, my reader ! may you never behold such a sight as that which pre- sented itself : eighty-three men and women in ball-dresses ; the former with their lank powdered locks streaming over their faces ; the latter with faded flowers, uncurled wigs, smudged rouge, blear eyes, draggling feathers, rumpled satins — each more desperately melancholy and hideous than the other — each, except my beloved Belinda Bulcher, whose raven ringlets never having been in curl could of course never go out of curl ; whose cheek, pale as the lily, could, as it may naturally be supposed, grow no paler ; whose neck and beauteous arms, dazzling as alabaster, needed no pearl-powder, and therefore, as I need not state, did not suffer because the pearl-powder had come off. Joy (deft link-boy !) lit his lamps in each of her eyes as I entered. As if I had been her sun, her spring, lo ! blushing roses mantled in her cheek ! Seventy-three ladies, as I entered, opened their fire upon me, and stunned me with cross-ques- tions, regarding my adventures in the camp — she, as she saw me, gave a faint scream, (the sweetest, sui-e, that ever gurgled through the throat of a woman !) then started up — then made as if she would sit down — then moved backwards — then tottered forwards — then tumbled into my — Psha ! why recall, why attempt to describe that delicious — that passionate greeting of two young hearts ? What was the surrounding crowd to tis ? What cared we for the sneers of the men, the titters of the jealous women, the shrill " Upon my word ! " of the elder Miss Bulcher, and the loud expostulations of Belinda's mamma? The brave girl loved me, and wept in my arms. " Goliah i my Goliah ! " said she, " my brave, my beautiful, thou art returned, and hope comes back with thee. Oh ! who can tell the anguish of my soul, during this dreadful, dreadful night ! " Other similar ejaculations of love and joy she uttered ; and if I had perilled life in her service, if I did believe that hope of escape there was none, so exquisite was the moment of our meeting, that I forgot all else in this overwhelming joy ! * * * * # [The Major's description of this meeting, which lasted si OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. lo, the very most not ten seconds, occupies thirteen pages of writ- ing. We have been compelled to dock off twelve-and-a-half ; for the whole passage, though highly creditable to his feelings, might possibly be tedious to the reader.] -JV ■TV TT TP As I said, the ladies and gentlemen were inclined to sneer, and were giggling audibly. I led the dear girl to a chair, and, scowling round with a tremendous fierceness, which those who know me know I can sometimes put on, I shouted out, " Hark ye ! men and women — I am this lady's truest knight — her hus- band I hope one day to be. I am commander, too, in this fort — the enemy is without it ; another w^ord of mockery — another glance of scorn — and, by heaven, I will hurl every man and woman from the battlements, a prey to the ruffianly Holkar ! " This quieted them. I am a man of my word, and none of them stirred or looked disrespectfully from that moment. It was now 7ny turn to make them look foolish. Mrs. Vande- gobbleschroy (whose unfailing appetite is pretty well known to every person who has been in India) cried, " Well, Captain Gahagan, your ball has been pleasant, and the supper was de- spatched so long ago, that myself and the ladies would be very glad of a little breakfast." And Mrs. Van giggled as if she had made a very witty and reasonable speech. " Oh ! break- fast by all means," said the rest ; " we really are dying for a warm cup of tea." " Is it bohay tay or souchong tay that you'd like, ladies ? " says I. " Nonsense, you silly man ; any tea you like," said fat Mrs. Van. " What do you say, then, to some prime gunpowder ? " Of course they said it was the very thing. " And do you like hot rowls or cowld — muffins or crumpets — fresh butter or salt? And you, gentlemen, what do you say to some ilegant divvled-kidneys for yourselves, and just a trifle of grilled turkeys, and a couple of hundthred new-laid eggs for the ladies ? " " Pooh, pooh ! be it as you will, my dear fellow," answered they all. '' But stop," says I. " O ladies, O ladies : O gentlemen, gentlemen, that you should ever have come to the quarters of Goliah Gahagan, and he been without — " " What ? " said they, in a breath. " Alas ! alas ! I have not got a single stick of chocolate in the whole house." I g 2 T/f£ TR EMEND OUS AD VENTURES "Well, well, we can do without it." " Or a single pound of coffee." *' Never mind ; let that pass too." (Mrs. Van and the rest were beginning to look alarmed.) "And about the kidneys — now I remember, the black div- vies outside the fort have seized upon all the sheep ; and how are we to have kidneys without them ? " (Here there was a slight o — o — o !) " And with regard to the milk and crame, it may be remarked that the cows are likewise in pawn, and not a single drop can be had for money or love : but we can beat up eggs, you know, in the tay, which will be just as good." " Oh ! just as good." " Only the divvle's in the luck, there's not a fresh egg to be had — no, nor a fresh chicken," continued I, " nor a stale one either ; nor a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bo- hay ; nor the laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh ; nor hot rowls or cowld ! " " In the name of heaven ! " said Mrs. Van, growing very pale, " what is there, then ? " "Ladies and gentlemen, I'll tell you what there is now,' shouted I. " There's " Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer," &c., &c., &c. And I went through the whole list of eatables as before, end- ing with the ham-sandwiches and the pot of jelly. " Law ! Mr. Gahagan," said Mrs. Colonel Vandegobble- schroy, " give me the ham-sandwiches — I must manage to break- fast off them." And you should have heard the pretty to-do there was at this modest proposition ! Of course I did not accede to it — ■ why should I .? I was the commander of the fort, and intended to keep these three very sandwiches for the use of myself and my dear Belinda. " Ladies," said I, " there are in this fort one hundred and twenty-six souls, and this is all the food which is to last us during the siege. Meat there is none — of drink there is a tolerable quantity ; and at one o'clock punctually, a glass of wine and one olive shall be served out to each woman : the men will receive two glasses, and an olive and a fig — and this must be your food during the siege. Lord Lake cannot be ab- sent more than three days ; and if he be — why, still there is a chance — why do I say a chance ? — a certainty of escaping from the hands of these ruffians." OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 193 " Oh, name it, name it, dear Captain Gahagan ! " screeched the whole covey at a breath. " It lies," answered I, " in th.& powdermagazine. I will blow this fort, and all it contains, to atoms, ere it becomes the prey of Holkar." The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been heard in Holkar's camp, and fainted in different directions ; but my dear Belinda whispered in my ear, " Well done, thou noble knight ! bravely said, my heart's Goliah ! " I felt I was right : I could have blown her up twenty times for the luxury of that single moment 1 " And now, ladies," said I, " I must leave you. The two chaplains will remain with you to administer professional consolation — the other gentlemen will follow me up stairs to the ramparts, where I shall find plenty of work for them." Chapter VII. THE ESCAPE. Loth as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but to obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, where I proceeded to review my men. The fort, in my ab- sence, had been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, a countryman of my own (with whom, as may be seen in an early chapter of my memoirs, I had an affair of honor) ; and the prisoner Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, never wishing to kill him, had been left in charge of that officer. Three of the garrison (one of them a man of the Ahmednuggar Irregulars,' my own body-servant, Ghorumsaug above named,) were appointed to watch the captive by turns, and never leave him out of their sight. The lieutenant was instructed to look to them and to their prisoner, and as Bobbachy was severely injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, bound hand and foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I con- sidered myself sure of his person. Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed my little force, and the three havildars were likewise absent : this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their prisoner \ but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I de» 394 TIfB TREMENDOUS ADVEin'URlSS spatched a messenger to him, and ordered him to appear \m- inediately. The messenger came back ; he was looking ghastly pale i he whispered some information into my ear, which instantly caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be confined. The men had fled ; — Bobbachy had fled ; and in his place, fancy my astonishment when I found — with a rope cutting his naturally wide moutla almost into his ears — with a dreadful sabre-cut across his forehead — with his legs tied over his head, and his anns tied between his legs — my unliappy, my attached friend — Mortimer Macgillicuddy T He had been in this position for about three hours — it was the very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Baliawder to be placed — an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which lenders escape unixjssible, unless treason aid the prisoner. I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position : I poured half a bottle of whiskey down the immensely enlarged orifice of his mouth, and when he had been released, he ii> formed me of the circumstances that had taken place. Fool that I was I idiot ! — upon my return to the fort, to have been anxious about my personal appearance, and to have spent a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from my beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner • — when his escape would have been prevented. O foppery, foppery \ — it wis that cursed love of personal appearance which had led me to forget my duty to my general, my country^, my monarch, and my own honor \ Thus it was that the escape took place : — My own fellow of the Irregulars, whom I had summoned to dress me, performed the operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the elegant uniform of my corps, and removed the Pitan'^s disguise, which I had taken from the back of the prostrate Bobbachy Bahawder, What did the rogue do next ? — Why, he carried back the dress to the Bobbachy — he put it, once more, ©n its r^ht owner \ he and his infernal black companions (who had been won over by the Bobbacliy with promises of enormous reward) gagged Macgillicuddy, who was going the rounds, and then marched with the Indian coolly up to the outer gate, and gave the word. The sentinel, thinking it was myself who had first come in, and was as likely to go out again — (indeed my rascally valet said that Gahagan Sahib was about to go out with him and his two companions to reconnoitre.) — opened the gates, and off they went I OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. igg This accounted for the confusion of my valet when 1 entered ! — and for the scoundrel's speech, that the lieutenant had just been the rounds ; — he had, poor fellow, and had been seized and bound in this cruel way. The three men, with their liberated prisoner, had just been on the point of escape, when my arrival disconcerted them : I had changed the guard at the gate (whom they had won over likewise) ; and yet, although they had overcome poor Mac, and although they were ready for the start, they had positively no means for effecting their escape, until I was ass enough to put means in their way. Fool ! fool ! thrice besotted fool that I was, to think of my own silly person when I should have been occupied solely with my public duty. From Macgillicuddy's incoherent accounts, as he was gasp- ing from the effects of the gag and the whiskey he had taken to revive him, and from my own subsequent observations, I learned this sad story. A sudden and painful thought struck me — my precious box ! — I rushed back, I found that box — I have it still. Opening it, there, where I had left ingots, sacks of bright tomauns, kopeks and rupees, strings of diamonds as big as ducks' eggs, rubies as red as the lips of my Belinda, countless strings of pearls, amethysts, emeralds, piles upon piles of bank-notes — I found — a piece of paper ! with a few lines in the Sanscrit language, which are thus, word for word, translated : — " EPIGRAM. " ( On disaffointmg a certain Major^ ** The conquering lion return'd with his prey, And safe in his cavern he set it, Tiie sly little fox stole the booty away ; And as he escaped, to the lion did say, ' Aha .' don't you wish you may get it f ' " Confusion ! Oh, how my blood boiled as I read these cut ting lines. I stamped, — I swore, — I don't know to what insane lengths my rage might have carried me, had not at this moment a soldier rushed in, screaming, " The enemy, the enemy ! " 196 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES Chapper VIII. THE CAPTIVE. It was high time, indeed, that I should make my appearance. Waving my sword with one hand and seizing my telescope with the other, I at once frightened and examined the enemy. Well they knew when they saw that flamingo plume floating in the breeze — that awful figure standing in the breach — that waving war-sword sparkling in the sky — well, I say, they knew the name of the humble individual who owned the sword, the plume, and the figure. The ruffians were mustered in front, the cavalry behind. The flags were flying, the drums, gongs, tambourines, violoncellos, and other instruments of Eastern music, raised in the air a strange, barbaric melody ; the officers (yatabals), mounted on white dromedaries, were seen galloping to and fro, carrying to the advancing hosts the orders of Holkar. You see that two sides of the fort of Futtyghur (rising as it does on a roch that is almost perpendicular) are defended by the Burrumpooter river, two hundred feet deep at this point, and a thousand yards wide, so that I had no fear about them attacking me in thai quarter. My guns, therefore (with their six and thirty miserable charges of shot) were dragged round to the point at which I conceived Holkar would be most likely to attack me. I was in a situation that I did not dare to fire, except at such times as I could kill a hundred men by a single discharge of a cannon ; so the attacking party marched and marched, very strongly, about a mile and a half off, the ele- phants marching without receiving the slightest damage from us, until they had come to within four hundred yards of our walls (the rogues knew all the secrets of our weakness, through the betrayal of the dastardly Ghorumsaug, or they never would have ventured so near). At that distance — it was about the spot where the Futtyghur hill began gradually to rise — the invading force stopped \ the elephants drew up in a line, at right angles with our wall (the fools ! they thought they should expose themselves too much by taking a position to it) ; the cavalry halted too, and — after the deuce's own flourish of trumpets and banging of gongs, to be sure, — somebody, in a flame-colored satin dress, with an immense jewel blazing in his pugree (that looked through my telescope like a small but very OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 197 bright planet), got up from the back of one of the very biggest elephants, and began a speech. The elephants were, as I said, in a line formed with admi- rable percision, about three hundred of them. The following little diagram will explain matters : — a' JB E is the line of elephants. F is the wall of the fort. G a gun in the fort. Now the reader will see what I did. The elephants were standing, their trunks waggling to and fro gracefully before them ; and I, with superhuman skill and activity, brought the gun G (a devilish long brass gun) to bear upon them. I pointed it myself ; bang ! it went, and what was the consequence ? Why, this : — G F F is the fort, as before. E, the elephants, as we have previ- ously seen them. What then is X ? X is the line taken by the hall fires from C, which took off oiie hundred and thirty-four elephants' trunks, and only spent itself in the tusk of a very old animal, that stood the hundred and thirty-fifth ! I say that such a shot was never fired before or since ; thai a gun was never pointed in such a way. Suppose I had been a common man, and contented myself with firing bang at the head of the first animal "i An ass would have done it, prided himself had he hit his mark, and what would have been the consequence ? Why, that the ball might have killed two ele- phants and wounded a third ; but here, probably, it would have stopped, and done no further mischief. The trunk was the place at which to' aim ; there are no bones there ; and away, consequently, went the bullet, shearing, as I have said, through 1 98 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES one hundred and thirty five probosces. Heavens ! what a howl there was when the shot took effect I What a sudden stoppage of Holkar's speech ! What a hideous snorting of elephants ? What a rush backwards was made by the whole army, as if some demon was pursuing them ! Away they went. No sooner did I see them in full retreat, than, rushing forward myself, I shouted to my men, " My friends, yonder lies your dinner ! " We flung open the gates — ■ we tore down to the spot where the elephants had fallen : seven of them were killed ; and of those that escaped to die of their hideous wounds elsewhere, most had left their trunks behind them. A great quantity of them were seized ; and I myself, cutting up with my scimitar a couple of the fallen animals, as a butcher would a calf, motioned to the men to take the pieces • back to the fort, where barbacued elephant was served round for dinner instead of the miserable allowance of an olive and a glass of wine, which I had promised to my female friends, in my speech to them. The animal reserved for the ladies was a young white one — the fattest and tenderest I ever ate in my life : they are very fair eating, but the flesh has an india-rubber flavor, which until one is accustomed to it, is unpalatable. It was well that I had obtained this supply, for, during my absence upon the works, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy and one or two others had forced their way into the supper-room, and devoured every morsel of the garrison larder, with the excep- tion of the cheeses, the olives, and the wine, which were locked up in my own apartment, before which stood a sentinel. Dis- gusting Mrs. Van ! When I heard of her gluttony, I had al- most a mind to eat her. However, we made a very comfortable dinner off the barbacued steaks, and when ever}'body had done, had the comfort of knowing that there was enough for one meal more. The next day, as I expected, the enemy attacked us in great force, attempting to escalade the fort ; but by the help of my guns, and my good sword, by the distinguished bravery of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy and the rest of the garrison, we beat this attack off completely, the enemy sustaining a loss of seven hundred men. We were victorious ; but when another attack was made, what were we to do .'' We had still a little powder left; but had fired off all the shot, stones, iron-bars, &c., in the garrison ! On this day, too, we devoured the last morsel of our food : I shall never forget Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy's despair- ing look, as I saw her sitting alone, attempting to make some impression or the little white elephant's roasted tail. OF MAJOR GAHAGA^. j^. The third day the attack was repeated. The resources ot genius are never at an end. Yesterday I had no ammunition j to day, I discovered charges sufhcient for two guns, and two swivels, which were much long-er, but had bores of about blun« derbuss size. This time my friend Loll Mahommed, who had received, as the reader may remember, such a bastinadoing for my sake, headed the attack. The poor wretch could not walk, but he was carried in an open palanquin, and came on waving his sword, and cursing horribly in his Hindustan jargon. Behind him came troops of matchlock-men, who picked off every one of our men who showed their noses above the ramparts : and a great host of blackamoors with scaling-ladders, bundles to fill the ditch, fascines, gabions, culverins, demi-lunes, counter- scarps, and all the other appurtenances of offensive vrar. On they came : my guns and men were ready for them. You will ask how many pieces were loaded ? I answer, that though my garrison were without food, I knew my duty as an officer — and Jiad piit tJie hoo Dutch cheeses into tJie two guns, and had crammed the contents of a bottle of olives into each swivd. They advanced, — whish \ went one of the Dutch cheeses, bang I went the other. Alas ! they did little execution. In their first contact with an opposing body, they certainly floored it ; but they became at once like so much Welsh-rabbit, and did 110 execution beyond the man whom they struck down. " Hogree, pogree, wongree-fum (praise to Allah and the forty-nine Imaums ! ) " shouted out the ferocious Loll Ma- hommed when he saw the failure of my shot. " Onward, sons of the Prophet ! the infidel has no more ammunition. A hun- dred thousand lacs of rupees to the luan who brings me Gahagan's head ! " His men set up a shout, and rushed forward — he, to do him justice, was at the very head, urging on his own palanquin- bearers, and looking them with the tip of his scimitar. They came panting up the hill : I was black with rage, but it was the cold, concentrated rage of despair. " Macgillicuddy," said I, calling that faithful officer, "you know where the barrels of powder are ? He did. " You know the use to make of them ? " He did. He grasped my hand. " Goliah," said he, '' fare- well ! I swear that the fort shall be in atoms, as soon as yonder unbelievers have carried it. Oh, my poor mother ! " added the gallant youth, as sighing, yet fearless, he retired to his post. I gave one thought to my blessed, my beautiful Belinda, and 200 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES then, stepping into the front, took down one of the swivels ;— » a shower of matchlock balls came whizzing round my head. 1 did not heed them. I took the swivel, and aimed coolly. Loll Mahommed, his palanquin, and his men, were now not above two hundred yards tfrom the fort. Loll was straight before me, gesticulating and shouting to his men. I fired — bang ! ! ! I aimed so true, that one hundred and sezienfeen best Spanish olives were lodged in a lump in the face of the unhappy Loll Mahommed. The wretch, uttering a yell the most hideous and unearthly I ever heard, fell back dead ; the frightened bearers flung down the palanquin and ran — the whole host ran as one man : their screams might be heard for leagues. " Tomasha, tomasha," they cried, ^' it is enchantment 1 " Away they fled, and the victory a third time was ours. Soon as the fight was done, I flew back to my Belinda. We had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, but I forgot hunger in the thought of once more beholding her! The sweet soul turned towards me with a sickly smile as I entered, and almost fainted in my arms ; but alas 1 it was not love which caused in her bosom an emotion so strong — it was hunger ! " Oh ! my Goliah," whispered she, " for three days I have not tasted food — I could not eat that horrid elephant yes- terday ; but now — oh 1 heaven ! * * * " She could say no more, but sank almost lifeless on my shoulder. I administered to her a trifling dram of rum, which revived her for a moment, and then rushed down stairs, determined that if it were a piece of my own leg, she should still have something to satisfy her hunger. Luckily I remembered that three or four elephants were still lying in the field, having been killed by us in the first action, two days before. Necessity, thought I, has no law ; my adorable girl must eat elephant, until she can get something better. I rushed into the court where the men were, for the most part, assembled. " Men," said I, " our larder is empty ; we must fill it as we did the day before yesterda}^ Who will follow Gahagan on a foraging party .'' " I expected that, as on former occasions, every man would ofi'er to accompany me. To my astonishment not a soul moved — a murmur arose among the troops ; and at last one of the oldest and bravest came forward. " Captain," he said, " it is of no use ; we cannot feed upon elephants forever; we have not a grain of powder left, and must give up the fort when the attack is made to-morrow. We OF MAJOR GAHAGAJ^. 20X may as well be prisoners now as then, and we won't go elephant-hunting any more." " Ruffian ! " I said, " he who first talks of surrender, dies ! " and I cut him down. " Is there any one else who wishes to speak ? " No one stirred. " Cowards ! miserable cowards ! " shouted I ; " what, you dare not move for fear of death, at the hands of those wretches who even now fled before your arms — what, do I say your arms? — before ?tiine ! — alone I did it; and as alone I routed the foe, alone I will victual the fortress ! Ho ! open the gate!" I rushed out ; not a single man would follow. The bodies of the elephants that we had killed still lay on the ground where they had fallen, about four hundred yards from the fort. I descended calmly the hill, a very steep one, and coming to the spot, took my pick of the animals, choosing a tolerably small and plump one, of about thirteen feet high, which the vultures had respected. I threw this animal over my shoulders, and made for the fort. As I marched up the acclivity, whizz — piff — whirr ! came the balls over my head ; and pitter-patter, pitter-patter ! they fell on the body of the elephant like drops of rain. The enemy were behind me ; I knew it and quickened my pace. I heard the gallop of their horse : they came nearer, nearer ; I was within a hundred yards of the fort — seventy — fifty ! I strained every nerve ; 1 panted with the superhuman exertion — I ran — ■ could a man run very fast with such a tremendous weight on his shoulders ? : Up came the enemy ; fifty horsemen were shouting and screaming at my tail. O heaven ! five yards more — one moment — and I am saved ! It is done — I strain the last strain — I make the last step — I fling forward my precious burden into the gate opened wide to receive me and it, and — I fall ! The gate thunders to, and I am left on the outside 1 Fifty knives are gleaming belore my bloodshot eyes — fifty black hands are at my throat, when a voice exclaims, " Stop ! — kill him not, it is Gujputi ! " A film came over my eyes-— exhaust^ ed nature would bear no more. 202 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES Chapter IX. SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR. When I awoke from the trance into which I had fallen, I found myself in a bath, surrounded by innumerable black faces ] and a Hindoo pothukoor (whence our word apothecary; feeling iny pulse and looknig at me with an air of sagacity. " Where am I ? " I exclanned, looking round and examining the strange faces, and the strange apartment which met my view. " Bekhusm ! " said the apothecary. " Silence ! Gaha- gan Sahib is in the hands of those who know his valor, and will save his life." " Know my valor, slave ? Of course you do," said I ; " but the fort — the garrison — the elephant — Belinda, my love — my darling — Macgillicuddy — the scoundrelly mutineers — the deal }^Q * * * * » I could say no more ; the painful recollections pressed so heavily upon my poor shattered mind and frame, that both failed once more. I fainted again, and I know not how long I lay insensible. " Again, however, I came to my senses : the pothukoor ap- plied restoratives, and after a slumber of some hours I awoke, much refreshed. I had no wound ; my repeated swoons had been brought on (as indeed well they might) by my gigantic efforts in carrying the elephant up a steep hill a quarter of a mile in length. Walking, the task is bad enough ; but running, it is the deuce ; and I would recommend any of my readers who may be disposed to try and carry a dead elephant, never, on any account, to go a pace of more than five miles an hour. Scarcely was I awake, when I heard the clash of arms at my door (plainly indicating that sentinels were posted there), and a single old gentleman, richly habited, entered the room. Did my eyes deceive me 1 I had surely seen him before. No ■ — yes — no — yes — it was he : the snowy white beard, the mild eyes, the nose flattened to a jelly, and level with the rest of the venerable face, proclaimed him at once to be — Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee, Ilolkar's prime vizier; whose nose, as the reader may recollect, his highness had flattened with his kaleawn dur- ing my interview with him in the Pitan's disguise. I now knew my fate but too well — I was in the hands of Holkar. OF MAJOR GAITAGAI^, 203 Saadut Alea Beg Bimbukchee slowly advanced towards me, and with a mild air of benevolence, which distinguished that excellent man (he was torn to pieces by wild horses the year after, on account of a difference with Holkar), he came to mji bedside, and taking gently my hand, said, " Life and death, my son, are not ours. Strength is deceitful, valor is unavailing, fame is only wind — the nightingale sings of the rose all night — where is the rose in the morning ? Booch, booch ! it is withered by a frost. The rose makes remarks regarding the nightingale, and where is that delightful song-bird ? Pena-bekhoda, he is netted, plucked, spitted, and roasted ! Who knows how mis- fortune comes 1 It has come to Gahagan Gujputi ! " " It is well," said I, stoutly, and in the Malay language. "Gahagan Gujputi will bear it like a man." " No doubt — like a wise man and a brave one ; but there is no lane so long to which there is not a turning, no night so black to which there comes not a morning. Icy winter is fol- lowed by merry spring-time — grief is often succeeded by joy." " Interpret, O riddler ! " said I ; " Gahagan Khan is no reader of puzzles — no prating mollah. Gujputi loves not words. but swords." " Listen, then, O Gujputi : you are in Holkar's power." " I know it." " You will die by the most horrible tortures to-morrow morning." " I dare say." ** They will tear your teeth from your jaws, your nails from your fingers, and your eyes from your head." " Very possibly." "They will flay you alive, and then burn you." " Well ; they can't do any more." "They will seize upon every man and woman in yonder fort," — it was not then taken! — "and repeat upon them the same tortures." " Ha ! Belinda ! Speak — how can all this be avoided ? " " Listen. Gahagan loves the moon-face called Belinda." " He does. Vizier, to distraction." " Of what rank is he in the Koompani's army ? " "A captain." "A miserable captain — oh, shame ! Of what creed is he ?" " 1 am an Irishman, and a Catholic." " But he has not been very particular about his religious duties ? " " Alas, no." t04 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES *' He has not been to his mosque for these twelve years ? " ♦' 'Tis too true." " Hearken now, Gahagan Khan. His Highness Prince Holkar has sent me to thee. You shall have the moon-face for your wife — your second wife, that is ; — the first shall be the incomparable Puttee Rooge, who loves you to madness ; — with Puttee Rooge, who is the wife, you shall have the wealth and rank of Bobbachy Bahawder, of whom his Highness intends to get rid. You shall be second in command of his Highness's forces. Look, here is his commission signed with the celestial seal, and attested by the sacred names of the forty-nine Imaums. You have but to renounce your religion and your service, and all these rewards are yours." He produced a parchment, signed as he said, and gave it to me (it was beautifully written in Indian ink : I had it for fourteen years, but a rascally valet, seeing it very dirty, washed it, forsooth, and washed off every bit of the writing). I took it calmly, and said, " This is a tempting offer. O Vizier, how long wilt thou give me to consider of it ? " After a long parley, he allowed me six hours, when I prom- ised to give him an answer. My mind, however, was made up ■ — as soon as he was gone, I threw myself on the sofa and fell asleep. • * • * « At the end of the six hours the Vizier came back : two people were with him ; ona, by his martial appearance, I knew to be Holkar, the other I did not recognize. It was about midnight. " Have you considered ? " said the Vizier, as he came Xq my couch. "I have," said I, sitting up, — I could not stand, for my legs were tied, and my arms fixed in a neat pair of steel handcufts. "I liave," said I, "unbelieving dogs! I have. Do you think to ]5ervert a Christian gentleman from his faith and honor ? Ruffian blackamoors ! do your worst ; heap tortures on this body, they cannot last long. Tear me to pieces : after you have torn me into a certain number of pieces, I shall not feel it ; and if I did, if each torture could last a life, if each limb were to feel the agonies of a whole body, what then 1 I would bear all — all — all — all — all — all ! " My breast heaved — ray form dilated — my eye flashed as I spoke these words. " Ty« rants ! " said I, " dulce et decorum est pro patria mori," Having thus clinched the argument, I was silent. OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 20$ The venerable Grand Vizier turned away ; I saw a tear trickling down his cheeks. " What a constancy," said he. " Oh, that such beauty and such bravery should be doomed so soon to quit the earth ! " His tall companion only sneered and said, " A7id Belinda " Ha ! " said I, " ruffian, be still ! — heaven will protect her spotless innocence. Holkar, I know thee, and thou knowest vie too ! Who, with his single sword, destroyed thy armies ? Who, with his pistol, cleft in twain thy nose-ring ? Who slew thy generals ? Who slew thy elephants ? Three hundred mighty beasts went forth to battle : of these / slew one hun- dred and thirty-five ! Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever ! Gahagan hates thee, spurns thee, spits on thee ! " Holkar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a scream of rage, and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch me at once (it was the very thing I wished for), when the third person sprang forward, and seizing his arm, cried — " Papa ! oh, save him ! " It was Puttee Rooge ! " Re- member," continued she, " his misfortunes — remember, oh, remember my — love ! " — and here she blushed, and putting one finger into her mouth, and hanging down her head, looked the very picture of modest affection. Holkar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, " 'Tis better as it is ; had I killed him now, I had spared him the torture. None of this shameless fooling. Puttee Rooge," con- tinued the tyrant, dragging her away. " Captain Gahagan dies three hours from hence." Puttee Rooge gave one scream and fainted — her father and the Vizier carried her off between them ; nor was I loth to part with her, for, with all her love, she was as ugly as the deuce. They were gone — my fate was decided. I had but three hours more of life : so I flung myself again on the sofa, and fell profoundly asleep. As it may happen to any of my readers to be in the same situation, and to be hanged themselves, let me earnestly entreat them to adopt this plan of going to sleep, which I for my part have repeatedly found to be successful. It saves unnecessary annoyance, it passes away a great deal of unpleasant time, and it prepares one to meet like a man the coming catastrophe. ***** Three o'clock came; the sun was at this time .making his appearance in the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were appointed to conduct me to the torture. I woke, rose, was 14 2o6 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES carried out, and was set on the very white donkey on which Loll Mahommed was conducted through the camp after he was bastinadoed. Bobbachy Bahawder rode behind me, restored to his rank and state ; troops of cavalry hemmed us in on all sides ; my ass was conducted by the common executioner : a crier went forward, shouting out, " Make way for the destroyer of the faithful — he goes to bear the punishment of his crimes." We came to the fatal plain : it was the very spot whence I had borne away the elephant, and in full sight of the fort. I looked towards it. Thank heaven ! King George's banner waved on it still — a crowd were gathered on the walls — the men, the das- tards who had deserted me — and women, too. Among the latter I thought I distinguished one who — O gods ! the thought turned me sick — I trembled and looked pale for the first time. " He trembles ! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy Bahawder, ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy. "Dog!" shouted I — (I was sitting with my head to the donkey's tail, and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face) — " not so pale as you looked when I felled you Avith this arm — not so pale as your women looked when I entered your harem ! " Completely chop-fallen, the Indian rufifian was silent : at any rate, I had done for him. We arrived at the place of execution. A stake, a couple of feet thick and eight high, was driven in the grass : round the stake, about seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to which were attached two fetters ; in these my wrists were placed. Two or three executioners stood near, with strange- looking instruments : others were blowing at a fire, over which was a cauldron, and in the embers were stuck other prongs and instrument of iron. The crier came forward and read my sentence. It was the same in effect as that which had been hinted to me the day previous by the Grand Vizier. I confess I was too agitated to catch every word that was spoken. Holkar himself, on a tall dromedray, was at a little distance. The Grand Vizier came up to me — it was his duty to stand by, and see the punishment performed. " It is yet time I " said he. I nodded my head, but did not answer. The Vizier cast up to heaven a look of inexpressible an- guish, and with a voice choking with emotion, said, ^''Execu- tioner — do — you)- — duty I " The horrid man advanced — he whispered sulkily in the ears of the Grand Viiier, " Gugg/y ka ghcejiuni khcdgeree," said he, ^^ ike oil does not boil yet — wait one minute." The assistants OF MAJOR GAHAGAI^. 2CJ)» blew, Ihe fire blazed, the oil was heated. The Vizier drew ?» few feet aside : taking a large ladle full of the boiling liquid, he advanced — ***** * * * * * " Whish ! bang, bang ! pop ! " the executioner was dead at my feet, shot through the head ; the ladle of scalding oil had been dashed in the face of the unhappy Grand Vizier, who lay on the plain, howling. *' Whish ! bang ! pop ! Hurrah ! — for- wards ! — cut them down ! — no quarter ! " I saw — yes, no, yes no, yes ! — I saw regiment upon regiment of galloping British horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying natives. First of the host, I recognized, O heaven ! my Ah- MEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS ! On Came the gallant line of black steeds and horsemen ; swift, swift before them rode my officers in yellow — Glogger, Pappendick, and Stuffle ; their sabres gleamed in the sun, their voices rung in the air. " D them ! " they cried, " give it them, boys ! " A strength super- natural thrilled through my veins at that delicious music : by one tremendous effort, I wrested the post from its foundation, five feet in the ground. I could not release my hands from the fetters, it is true ; but, grasping the beam tightly, I sprung for- ward — with one blow I levelled the five executioners in the midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can ; with the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy's palankin off their legs ; with the third, I caught that chief himself in the small of the back, and sent him flying on to the sabres of my advancing soldiers ! " The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, Pappendick leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that wild chase had swept far away. We were alone ; I wa^ freed from my immense bar ; and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord Lake trotted up with his staff, he found me sitting on it. " Look at Gahagan," said his lordship, "Gentlemen, did I not tell you we should be sure to find him at his post 1 " The gallant old nobleman rode on : and this was the famous BATTLE OF FURRUCKABAD, OR SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR, fought on the 17th of November, 1804. *♦♦*♦** About a month afterwards, the following announcement ap- peared in the Boggley-woUah Hurkami and other Indian papers : — " Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the Rev. Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O'Grady Gahagan, Com- manding Irregular Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second 2o8 TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. daughter of Major-General Bulcher, C. B. His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief gave away the bride ; and after a splen- did dejeuner, the happy pair set off to pass the Mango season at Hurr3'gurrybang. Venus must recollect, however, that Mars must not always be at her side. The Irregulars are nothing without their leader," Such was the paragraph — such the event — the happiest in the existence of ■ G. O'G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A. ' LEGEND OF THE RHINE. A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. Chapter I. SIR LUDWIG OF HOMBOURG. It was in the good old days of chivalry, when every moun- tain that bathes its shadow in the Rhine had its castle : not inhabited, as now, by a few rats and owls, nor covered with moss and wallflowers, and funguses, and creeping ivy. No, no ! where the ivy now clusters there grew strong portcullis and bars of steel ; where the wallflower now quivers in the rampart there were silken banners embroidered with wonderful heraldry j men-at-arms marched where now you shall only see a bank of moss or a hideous black champignon ; and in place of the rats and owlets, I warrant me there were ladies and knights to revel in the great halls, and to feast, and to dance, and to make love there. They are passed away : — those old knights and ladies : their golden hair first changed to silvei-, and then the silver dropped off and disappeared forever ; their elegant legs, so slim and active in the dance, became swollen and gouty, and then, from being swollen and gouty, dwindled down to bare bone-shanks ; the roses left their cheeks, and then their cheeks disappeared, and left their skulls, and then their skulls powdered into dust, and all sign of them was gone. And as it was with them, so shall it be with us. Ho, seneschal 1 fill me a cup of liquor ! put sugar in it, good fellow — yea, and a little hot water ; a very little, for my soul is sad, as I think of those days and knights of old. They, too, have revelled and feasted, and where are they ? — gone.? — nay, not altogether gone; for doth not the eye catch glimpses of them as they walk yonder in the gray limbo of romance, shining faintly in their coats of steel, wandering by the side of long-haired ladies, with long-tailed gowns that little pages carry } Yes ! one sees them ; the poet sees them still (211) 212 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. in the far-off Cloudlancl, and hears the ring of their clarions as they hasten to battle or tourney — and the dim echoes of their lutes chanting of love and fair ladies ! Gracious priv- ilege of poesy ! It is as the Dervish's collyrium to the eyes, and causes them to see treasures that to the sight of donkeys are invisible. Blessed treasures of fancy ! I would not change ye — no, not for many donkey-loads of gold. * * * Fill again, jolly seneschal, thou brave wag ; chalk me up the produce on the hostel door — surely the spirits of old are mixed up in the wondrous liquor, and gentle visions of by-gone princes and princesses look blandly down on us from the cloudy perfume of the pipe._ Do you know in what year the fairies left the Rhine ? — long before Murray's " Guide-Book " was wrote — long before squat steamboats, with snorting funnels, came paddling down the stream. Do you not know that once upon a time the appearance of eleven thousand British virgins was considered at Cologne as a wonder ? Now there come twenty thousand such annually accompanied by their ladies'-maids. But of them we will say no more — let us back to those who went before them. Many, manv hundred thousand years ago, and at the exact period when chivalry was in full bloom, there occurred a little history upon the banks of the Rhine, which has been already written in a book, and hence must be positively true. 'Tis a story of knights and ladies — of love and battle, and virtue rewarded ; a story of princes and noble lords, moreover : the best oE com- pany. Gentles, an ye will, ye shall hear it. Fair dames and damsels, may your loves be as happy as those of the heroine of this romaunt. On the cold and rainy evening of Thursday, the 26th of October, in the year previously indicated, such travellers as might have chanced to be abroad in that bitter night, might have remarked a fellow-wayfarer journeying on the road from Oberwinter to Godesberg. He was a man not tall in stature, but of the most athletic proportions, and Time, wliich had browned and furrowed his cheek and sprinkled his locks with gray, declared pretty clearly that He must have been acquainted with the warrior for some iifty good years. Fie was armed in mail, and rode a powerful and active battle-horse, which (though the way the pair had come that day was long and weary indeed,) yet supported the warrior, his armor and luggage, with seeming ease. As it was in a friend's country, the knight did not think fit to wear his heavy dcsfricr, or helmet, which hung at his saddle-bow over Iiis portmanteau. S/R L UD WIG OF HOMBOURG. 2 1 3 Both were marked with the coronet of a count ; and from the crown which surmounted the hehnet, rose the crest of his knightly race, an arm proper lifting a naked sword. At his right hand, and convenient to the warrior's grasp, hung his mangonel or mace — a terrific weapon which had shat- tered the brains of many a turbaned soldan ; while over his broad and ample chest there fell the triangular shield of the period, whereon were emblazoned his arms — argent, a gules wavy, on a saltire reversed of the second : the latter device was awarded for a daring exploit before Ascalon, by the Em- peror Maximilian, and a reference to the German Peerage of that day, or a knowledge of high families which every gentle- man then possessed, would have sufliced to show at once that the rider we have described was of the noble house of Hom- bourg. It was, in fact, the gallant knight Sir Ludwig of Hom- bourg : his rank as a count, and chamberlain of the Emperor of Austria, was marked by 'the cap of maintenance with the peacock's feather which he wore (when not armed for battle), and his princely blood was denoted by the oiled silk umbrella which he carried (a very meet protection against the pitiless storm), and which, as it is known, in the middle ages, none but princes were justified in using. A bag, fastened with a brazen padlock, and made of the costly produce of the Persian looms (then extremely rare in Europe), told that he had travelled in Eastern climes. This, too, was evident from the inscription writ on card or parchment, and sewed on the bag. It first ran, *' Count Ludwig de Hombourg, Jerusalem ; " but the name of the Holy City had been dashed out with the pen, and that of " Godesberg " substituted. So far indeed had the cavalier travelled ! — and it is needless to state that the bag in question contained such remaining articles of the toilet as the high-born noble deemed unnecessary to place in his valise. " By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen ! " said the good knight, shivering, " 'tis colder here than at Damascus ! Marry, I am so hungry I could eat one of Saladin's camels. Shall I be at Godesberg in time for dinner ? " And taking out his horologe (which hung in a small side-pocket of his embroidered surcoat), the crusader consoled himself by finding that it was but seven of the night, and that he would reach Godesberg ere the warder had sounded the second gong. His opinion was borne out by the result. His good steed, which could trot at a pinch fourteen leagues in the hour, brought him to this famous castle, just as the warder was giv- ing the first welcome signal which told that the princely family 214 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. of Count Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, were about to prepare for their usual repast at eight o'clock. Crowds of pages and horsekeepers were in the court, when, the portcullis being raised, and amidst the respectful salutes of the sentinels, the most ancient friend of the house of Godesberg entered into its castle- yard. The under-butler stepped forwai^d to take his bridle rein. " Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy Land ! " exclaimed the faithful old man. " Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy Land ! " cried the rest of the servants in the hall. A stable was speedily found for the Count's horse, Streithengst, and it was not before the gallant soldier had seen that true animal well cared for, that he entered the castle itself, and was conducted to his cham- ber. W^ax-candles burning bright on the mantel, flowers in china vases, every variety of soap, and a flask of the precious essence manufactured at the neighboring city of Cologne, were displayed on his toilet-table ; a cheering fire "crackled on the hearth," and showed that the good knight's coming had been looked and cared for. The serving-maidens, bringing him hot water for his ablutions, smiling asked, "Would he have his couch warmed at eve ? " One might have been sure from their blushes that the tough old soldier made an arch reply. The family tonsor came to know whether the noble Count had need of his skill. "By Saint Bugo," said the knight, as seated in an easy settle by the fire, the tonsor rid his chin of its stubbly growth, and lightly passed the tongs and pomatum through '• the sable silver " of his hair, — " By Saint Bugo, this is better than my dungeon at Grand Cairo. HoW is my godson Otto, master barber; and the lady countess, his mother; and the noble Count Karl, my dear brother-in-arms ? " " They are well," said the tonsor, with a sigh. ' By Saint Bugo, Fm glad on't ; but why that sigh ? " " Things are not as they have been with my good lord," answered the hairdresser, " ever since Count Gottfried's arrival." " He here ! " roared Sir Ludwig. " Good never came where Gottfried Avas ! " and the while he donned a pair of "ilken hose, that showed admirably the proportions of his lower limbs, and exchanged his coat of mail for the spotless vest and black surcoat collared with velvet of Genoa, which was tlie fitting costume for " knight in 'adye's bower," — the knight entered into a conversation with the barber, who explained to him, with the usual garrulousness of his tribe, what v>'as the present position of the noble family of Godesberg. This will be narrated in the next chapter. THE GODESBERGERS. ajj Chapter II. the godesbergers. *TiS needless to state that the gallant warrior Ludwig of Hombourg found in the bosom of his friend's family a cordial Welcome. The brother-in-arms of the Margrave Karl, he was the esteemed friend of the Margravine, the exalted and beautiful Theodore of Boppum, and (albeit no theologian, and although the first princes of Christendom coveted such an honor,) he was Selected to stand as sponsor for the Margrave's son Otto, the only child of his house. It was now seventeen years since the Count and countess had been united : and although heaven had not blessed their couch with more than one child, it may be said of that one that it was a prize, and that surely never lighted on the earth a more delightful vision. When Count Ludwig, hastening to the holy wars, had quitted his beloved godchild, he had left him a boy ; he now found him, as the latter rushed into his arms, grown to be one of the finest young men in Germany : tall and exces- sively graceful in proportion, with the blush of health mantling upon his cheek, that was likewise adorned with the first down of manhood, and with magnificent golden ringlets, such as a Rowland might envy, curling over his brow and his shoulders. His eyes alternately beamed with the fire of daring, or melted with the moist glance of benevolence. Well might a mother be proud of such a boy. Well might the brave Ludwig exclaim, as he clasped the youth to his breast, " By St, Bugo of Katz- enellenbogen. Otto, thou art fit to be one of Coeur de Lion's grenadiers ! " and it was the fact : the "Childe " of Godesberg measured six feet three. He was habited for the evening meal in the costly, though simple attire of the nobleman of the period— and his costume a good deal resembled that of the old knight whose toilet we have just described ; with the difference of color, however. The poiirpoint worn by young Otto of Godesberg was of blue, handsomely decorated with buttons of carved and embossed gold ; his haut-dc-dumsses, or leggings, were of the stuff of Nan- quin, then brought by the Lombard argosies at an immense price from China. The neighboring country of Holland had supplied his wrists and bosom with the most costly laces ; and thus attired, with an opera-hat placed en one .-ide of Ms liead. 2i6 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE. ornamented with a single flower, (that brilliant one, the tulip,) the boy rushed into his godfather's dressing-room, and warned him that the banquet was ready. It was indeed : a frown had gathered on the dark brows of the Lady Theodora, and her bosom heaved with an emotion akin to indignation ; for she feared lest the soups in the rc' fectory and the splendid fish now smoking there were get- ting cold : she feared not for herself, but for her lord's sake. " Godesberg," whispered she to Count Ludwig, as trembling on his arm they descended from .the drawing-room, ," Godes- berg is sadly changed of late,"' " By St. Bugo ! " said the burly knight, starting, " these are the very words the barber spake." The lady heaved a sigh, and placed herself before the soup- tureen. For some time the good Knight Ludwig of Hombourg was too much occupied in ladling out the forced meat-balls and rich calves' head of which the delicious pottage was formed (in ladling them out, did we say ? ay, marry, and in eating them, too,) to look at his brother-in-arms at the bottom of the table, where he sat with his son on his left hand, and the Baron Gott- fried on his right. The Margrave was indeed changed. " By St, Bugo," whis- pered Ludwig to the Countess, " your husband is as surly as a bear that hath been wounded o' the head," Tears falling into her soup plate were her only reply. Tiie soup, the turbot, the haunch of mutton, Count Ludwig remarked that the Margrave sent all away untasted. " The boteler will serve ye with wine, Hombourg," said the Margrave gloomily from the end of the table : not even an invitation to drink ! how different was this from the old times ! But when in compliance with this order the boteler proceeded to hand round the mantling vintage of the Cape to the assem- bled part}', and to fill young Otto's goblet (which the latter held up with the eagerness of youth), the Margrave's rage knew no bounds. He rushed at his son ; he dashed the wine-cup over his spotless vest ; and giving him three or four heavy blows which would have knocked down a bonassus, but only caused the young Childe to blush : " You take wine ! " roared out *Jie Margrave ; "■ yoii dare to help yourself ! Who the d-v-I gave you leave to help yourself? " and the terrible blows were reiterated over the delicate ears of the boy. "Ludwig! Ludwig!" shrieked the Margravine. •' Hold your prate, madam," roared the Prince. " By Sfc Buffo, mavn't a father beat his own child ?" THE GODESBERGERS. ztf " His own child ! " repeated the Margrave with a burst, almost a shriek of indescribable agony. " Ah, what did I say ? " Sir Ludwig looked about him in amaze ; Sir Gottfried (at the Margrave's right hand) smiled ghastily ; the young Otto was too much agitated by the recent conflict to wear any ex- pression but that of extreme discomfiture ; but the poor Mar- gravine turned her head aside and blushed, red almost as the lobster which flanked the turbot before her. In those rude old times, 'tis known such table quarrels were by no means unusual amongst gallant knights ; and Ludwig, who had oft seen the Margrave cast a leg of mutton at an Offending servitor, or empty a sauce-boat in the direction of the Margravine, thought this was but one of the usual out- breaks of his worthy though irascible friend, and wisely deter- mined to change the converse. " How is my friend," said he, " the good knight, Sir Hilde- brandt ? " " By Saint Buffo, this is too much ! " screamed the Margrave, and actually rushed from the room. " By Saint Bugo," said his friend, "gallant knights, gentle sirs, what ails ray good Lord Margrave } " " Perhaps his nose bleeds," said Gottfried, w-ith a sneer. " Ah, my kind friend," said the Margravine with uncontrol- lable emotion, " I fear some of you have passed from the fry- ing-pan into the fire." And making the signal of departure to the ladies, they rose and retired to coffee in the drawing-room. The Margrave presently came back again, somewhat more collected than he had been. "Otto," he said sternly, "go join the ladies : it becomes not a young boy to remain in the com- pany of gallant knights after dinner." The noble Childe with manifest unwillingness quitted the room, and the Margrave, taking his lady's place at the head of the table, whispered to Sir Ludwig, " Hildebrandt will be here to-night to an evening- party, given in honor of your return from Palestine. My good friend — -my true friend — my old companion in arms, Sir Gott- fried ! you had best see that the fiddlers be not drunk, and that the crumpets be gotten ready." Sir Gottfried, obsequiously taking his patron's hint, bowed and left the room. " You shall know all soon, dear Ludwig," said the Mar- grave, with a heartrending look. " You marked Gottfried, who, left the room anon ? " " I did." " You look incredulous concerning his worth ; but I tell thee, Ludwig, that yonder Gottfried is a good fellow, and my 2i8 A LEGEND OF THE RUT ME. fast friend. Why should he not be ? He is my near relation, heir to my property: should I " (here the Margrave's counte-* nance assumed it's former expression of excruciating agony), — • " should I have no son." "But I never saw the boy in better health," replied Sir Ludwig. "Nevertheless, — ha ! ha.! — it may chance that I soon shall have no son." The Margrave had crushed many a cup of wine during din- ner, and Sir Ludwig thought naturally that his gallant friend had drunken rather deeply. He proceeded in this respect to imitate him ; for the stern soldier of those days neither shrunHF before the Paynim nor the punch-bowl : and many a rousing night had our crusader enjoyed in Syria with lion-hearted Rich- ard ; with his coadjutor, Godfrey of Bouillon ; nay, with the dauntless Saladin himself. " You knew Gottfried in Palestine ? " asked the Margrave. "I did." " Why did ye not greet him then, as ancient comrades should, with the warm hands of friendship ? It is not because Sir Gottfried is poor ? You know well that he is of a race a& noble as thine own, my early friend ! " " I care not for his race nor his poverty," replied the blunt crusader. " What says the Minnesinger ? ' Marry, that the rank is but the stamp of the guinea ; the man is the gold. ' And I tell thee, Karl of Godesberg, that yonder Gottfried is base metal." " By Saint Buffo, thou behest him, dear Ludwig." "By Saint Bugo, dear Karl, I say sooth. The fellow was known i' the camp of the crusaders — disreputably known. Ere he joined us in Palestine, he had sojourned in Constantinople, and learned the arts of the Greek. He is a cogger of dice, I tell thee — a chanter of horseflesh. He won five thousand marks from bluif Richard of England the night before the storming of Ascalon, and I caught him with false trumps in his pocket. He warranted a bay mare to Conrad of Mont Serrat, and the rogue had fired her.' " Ha 1 mean ye that Sir Gottfried is a kg ? " cried Sir Karl, knitting his brows. " Now, by my blessed patron. Saint Buffo of Bonn, had any other but Ludwig of Hombourg so said I would have cloven him from skull to chine." " By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen, I will prove my words on Sir Gottfried's body — not on thine, old brother-in-arms. And to do the knave justice, he is a good lance. Holy Bugo J THE FESTIVAL. 219 but he did sfood service at Acre ! But his character was such that, spite of his bravery, he was dismissed the army; nor even allowed to sell his captain's commission." " I have heard of it," said the Margrave ; '' Gottfried had told me of it. 'Twas about some silly quarrel over the wine- cup — a mere silly jape, believe me. Hugo de Brodenel would have no black bottle on the board. Gottfried was wrath, and to say sooth, flung the black bottle at the county's head. Hence his dismission and abrupt return. But you know not," con- tinued the Margrave, with a heavy sigh, " of what use that worthy Gottfried has been to me. He has uncloaked a traitor to me." " Not j)'<;'/," answered Hombourg, satirically. " By Saint Buffo ! a deep-dyed dastard ! a dangerous, damn- able traitor ! — a nest of traitors, Hildebrandt is a traitor — Otto is a traitor — and Theodora (O heaven !) she — she is an- other.'''' The old Prince burst into tears at the word, and was almost choked with emotion, " What means this passion, dear friend .-* " cried Sir Ludwig, seriously alarmed. " Mark, Ludwig ! mark Hildebrandt and Theodora to- gether : mark Hildebrandt and Otto together. Like, like I tell thee as two peas. O holy saints, that I should be born to suffer this ! — to have all my affections wrenched out of my bosom, and to be left alone in my old age ! But, hark ! the guests are arriving. An ye will not empty another flask of claret, let us join the ladyes i' the withdrawing chamber. When there, mark Hildebrandt and Otto /" Chapter HI. THE FESTIVAL. The festival was indeed begun. Coming on horseback, or in their caroches, knights and ladies of the highest rank were assembled in the grand saloon of Godesberg, which was splen- didly illuminated to receive them. Servitors, in rich liveries, (they were attired in doublets of the sky-blue broad-cloth of Ypres, and hose of the richest yellow sammit — the colors of the house of Godesberg,) bore about various refreshments on trays S20 A LECEATD OF THE RmNE. of silver — cakes, baked in the oven, and swimming in melted butter ; nianchets of bread, smeared with the same deUcious condiment, and carved so thin that 3-011 might have exi^ected them to take a wing ana fly to the ceiling ; coffee, introduced by Peter the Hermit, after his excursion into Arabia, and tea such as only Bohemia could produce, circulated amidst the festive tlirong, and were eagerly devoured by the guests. The Margrave's gloom wms unheeded by them — how little indeed is the smiling crowd aware of the pangs that are lurking in the breasts of those who bid them to the feast ! The Margravine ^vas pale ; but woman knows how to deceive ; she was more than ordinarily courteous to her friends, and laughed, though the laugh was hollow, and talked, though the talk was loath- some to her. "The two are together," said the Margrave, clutching his friend's shoulder. " A'oiu look I " Sir Ludwig turned towards a quadrille, and there, sure enough, were Sir Hildebrandt and young Otto standing side by side in the dance. Two eggs were not more like ! The reason of the Margrave's horrid suspicion at once flashed across his friend's mind. " 'Tis clear as the staff of a pike," said the poor Margrave, mournfully. " Come, brother, away from the scene ; let us go play a game at cribbage ! " and retiring to the Margravine's boudoir, the two warriors sat down to the game. But though 'tis an interesting one, and "though the Margrave won, yet he could not keep his attention on the cards : so agitated was his mind by the dreadful secret which weighed upon it. In the midst of their play, the obsequious Gottfried came to whisper a word in his patron's ear, which threw the latter into such a fury, that apoplexy was apprehended by the two lookers-on. But the Margrave mastered his emotion, ^ "■ Al what thne, did you say ? " said he to Gottfried. " At davbreak, at the outer gate." " I will be there." " Amt so Willi too,'' thought Count Ludwig, the good Knight of Hombourg. THE FLIGHT. 221 Chapter IV. THE FLIGHT. How often does man, proud man, make calculations for the future, and think he can bend stern fate to his will ! Alas, we are but creatures in its hands ! How many a slip between the lip and the lifted wine-cup ! How often, though seemingly with a choice of couches to repose upon, do we find ourselves dashed to earth; and then we are fain to say the grapes are sour, be- cause we cannot attain them ; or worse, to yield to anger in consequence of our own fault. Sir Ludwig, the Hombourger, was not at the outer gate at daybreak. He slept until ten of the clock. The previous night's pota- tions had been heavy, the day's journey had been long and rough. The knight slept as a soldier would, to whom a feather bed is a rarity, and who wakes not till he hears the blast of the re'veille'. He looked up as he woke. At his bedside sat the Mar- grave. He had been there for hours watching his slumbering comrade. Watching ? — no, not watching, but awake by his side, brooding over thoughts unutterably bitter — over feelings inexpressibly wretched. " What's o'clock ? " was the first natural exclamation of the Hombourger. "I believe it is five o'clock," said his friend. It was ten. It might have been twelve, two, half-past four, twenty minutes to six, the Margrave would still have said, " / heliri^e it is fiv& ddocky The v^'retched take no count of time : it flies with un* equal pinions, indeed, for thein. " Is breakfast over 'i " inquired the crusader. "Ask the butler," said the Margrave, nodding his head wildly, rolling his eyes wildly, smiling wildly. " Gracious Bugo ! " said the Knight of Hombourg, "what has ailed thee, my friend ? It is ten o'cfock by my horologe. Your regular hour is nine. You are not — no, by heavens ! you are not shaved ! You wear the tights and silken hose of last e\-ening's banquet. Your collar is all rumpled — 'tis that of yesterday. You have not been to bed! What has chanced, brother of mine : what has chanced ? " S 222 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. " A common chance, Louis of Hombourg," said the Mar- grave : " one that chances every clay. A false woman, a false friend, a broken heart. This has chanced. I have not been to bed." " \\niat mean ye ? " cried Count Ludvvig, deeply affected, *' A false friend ? / am not a false friend. A false woman ? Surely the lovely Theodora, your wife " ' \ have no wife, Louis, now; T have.no wife and no son." ***** In accents broken by grief, the Margrave explained what had occurred. Gottfried's information was but too correct. There was a cause for the likeness between Otto and Sir Hilde- brandt : a fatal cause ! Hildebrandt and Theodora had met at dawn at the outer gate. The Margrave had seen them. They walked long together ; tliey embraced. Ah ! how the husband's the father's, feelings were harrowed at that embrace ! They parted ; and then the INfargrave, coming forward, coldly signified to his lady that she was to retire to a convent for life, and gave orders that the boy should be sent too, to take the vows at a monastery. Both sentences had been executed. Otto, in a boat, and guarded by a company of his father's men-at-arms, was on the river going towards Cologne, to the monastery of Saint Buffo there. The Lady Theodora, rnider the guard of Sir Gottfried and an attendant, Avere on their way to the convent of Nonnen- werth, which many of our readers have seen — the beautiful Green Island Convent, laved by the bright waters of the Rhine ! "What road did Gottfried take?" asked the Knight of Hombourg, grinding his teeth. " You cannot overtake him," said the Margrave. " ]\Iy good Gottfried, he is my only comfort now : he is my kinsman, and shall be my heir. He will be back anon." "Will he so .? " thought Sir Ludwig. " I will ask him a few questions ere he return." And springing from his couch, he began forthwith to put on his usual morning dress of complete armor ; and, after a hasty ablution, donned, not his cap of maintenance, but his helmet of battle. He rang the bell violently. " A cup of coffee, straight," said he, to the servitor who answered the summons ; " bid the cook pack me a sausage and bread in paper, and the groom saddle Streithengst ; we have far to ride." The various orders were obeyed. The horse was brought \ THE TRAITOR'S DOOM. 223 the refreshments disposed of ; the clattering steps of the depart- ing steed were heard in the court-yard ; but the Margrave took no notice of his friend, and sat, plunged in silent grief, quite motionless by the empty bedside. Chapter V. THE traitor's DOOM. The Hombourger led his horse down the winding path which conducts from the hill and castle of Godesberg into the Deautiful green plain below. Who has not seen that lovely plain, and who that has seen it has not loved it ?, A thousand sunny vineyards and cornfields stretch around in peaceful luxuriance ; the mighty Rhine floats by it in silver magnificence, and on the opposite bank rise the seven mountains robed in majestic purple, the monarchs of the ro3'al scene. A pleasing poet. Lord Byron, in describing this very scene, has mentioned that " peasant girls, with dark-blue eyes, and hands that ofTer cake and wine," are perpetually crowding round the traveller in this delicious district, and proffering to him their rustic presents. This was no doubt the case in former days, when the noble bard wrote his elegant poems — in the happy ancient days ! when maidens were as yet generous, and men kindly ! Now the degenerate peasantry of the district are much more inclined to ask than to give, and their blue eyes seem to have disappeared with their generosity. But as it was a long time ago that the events of our story occurred, 'tis probable that the good Knight Ludwig of Hom- bourg was greeted upon his path by this fascinating peasantry ; though we know not how he accepted their welcome. He continued his ride across the flat green country until he came to Rolandseck, whence he could command the Island of Non- nenwerth (that lies in the Rhine opposite that place), and all who went to it or passed from it. / Over the entrance of a little cavern in one of the rocks hanging above the Rhine-stream at Rolandseck, and covered with odoriferous cactuses and silvery magnolias, the traveller of the present day may perceive a rude broken image of a saint: that image represented the venerable Saint Buffo of Bonn, the patron of the Margrave ; and Sir Ludwig, kneeling 2 24 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE. on the greensward, and reciting a censer, an ave, and a couple of acolytes before it, felt encouraged to think that the deed he meditated was about to be performed under the very eyes of his friend's sanctified patron. His devotion done (and the knight of those days was as pious as he was brave). Sir Ludwig, the gallant Hombourger, exclaimed with a loud voice : — " Ho ! hermit ! holy hermit, art thou in thy cell ? " " Who calls the poor servant of heaven and Saint Buffo ? '' exclaimed a voice from the cavern ; and presently, from beneath the wreaths of geranium and magnolia, appeared an intensely venerable, ancient and majestic head — 'twas that, we need not say, of Saint Buffo's solitary. A silver beard hanging to his knees gave his person an aiDpearance of great respectability? his body was robed in simple brown serge, and girt with a knotted cord : his ancient feet were only defended from the prickles and stones by the rudest sandals, and his bald and polished head was bare. " Holy hermit," said the knight, in a grave voice, " make ready thy ministry, for there is some one about to die." " Where, son .? " " Here, father." " Is he here, now ? " "Perhaps," said the stout warrior, crossing himself; "but not so if right prevail." At this moment he caught sight of a ferry-boat putting off from Nonnenwerth, with a knight on board. Ludwig knew at once, by the sinople reversed and the truncated gules on his surcoat, that it was Sir Gottfried of Godesberg. " Be ready, father," said the good knight, pointing towards the advancing boat ; and waving his hand by way of respect to the reverend hermit, without a further word, he vaulted into his saddle, and rode back for a few scores of joaces ; when he wheeled round and remained steady. His great lance and pennon rose in the air. His armor glistened in the sun ; the chest and head of his battle-horse were similarly covered with steel. As Sir Gottfried, likewise armed and mounted (for his horse had been left at the ferry hard by), advanced up thq road, he almost started at the figure before him — a glistening tower of steel. " Are you the lord of this pass, Sir Knight ? " said Sir Gottfried, haughtily, "or do you hold it against all comers, ia honor of your lady-love .?" "I am not the lord of this pass. I do not hold it against THE TRAITOR'S DOOM. 225 all comers. I hold it but against one, and he is a liar and a traitor." " As the matter concerns me not, I pray you let me pass," said Gottfried, " The matter docs concern thee, Gottfried of Godesberg. Liar and traitor! art thou coward, too? " '• Holy Saint Buffo! 'tis a fight! " exclaimed the old hermit (who, too, had been a gallant warrior in his day) ; and like the old war-horse that hears the trumpet's sound, and spite of his clerical profession, he prepared to look on at the combat with. no ordinary eagerness, and sat down on the overhanging ledge of the rock, lighting his pipe, and affecting tmconcern, but '\\\ reality most deeply interested in the event which was about to ensue. As soon as the word "coward" had been pronounced by Sir Ludwig, his opponent, uttering a curse far too horrible to be inscribed here, had wheeled back his powerful piebald, and brought his lance to the rest. " Ha ! Beauseant ! " cried he. " Allah humdillah ! " 'Twas the battle-cry in Palestine of the irresistible Knights Hospital- lers. " Look to thyself. Sir Knight, and for mercy from heaven ! /will give thee none," " A Bugo for Katzenellenbogen ! " exclaimed Sir Ludwig. }3iously : that, too, was tl>e well-known war-cry of his princely race. " I will give the signal, '"' said the old hermit, waving his pipe- "Knights, are you ready? One, two, three. Los-!''' parel ; and make no doubt you dismissed me from your house in order to make way fol sotne vile hussy, whose eyes I would like to tear out. T. V. G." 230 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. Chapter VII. THE SENTENCE. This singular document, illustrative of the passions of women at all times, and particularly of the manners of the early ages, struck dismay into the heart of the Margrave, "Are her ladyship's insinuations correct?" asked the her- mit, in a severe tone. " To correct a wife with a cane is a venial, I may say a justifiable practice ; but to fling a bottle at her is ruin both to the liquor and to her." But she sent a carving-knife at me first," said the heart- broken husband. " O jealousy, cursed jealousy, why, why did I ever listen to thy green and yellow tongue ? " " They quarrelled ; but they loved each other sincerely," whispered Sir Ludwig to the hermit : who began to deliver forthwith a lecture upon family discord and martial authority, which would have sent his two hearers to sleep, but for the arrival of the second messenger, whom the Margrave had de- spatched to Cologne for his son. This herald wore a still longer face than that of his comrade who preceded him. " Where is my darling 1 " roared the agonized parent. " Have ye brought him with ye ? " " N — no," said the man, hesitating. " I will flog the knave soundly when he comes," cried the father, vainly endeavoring, under an appearance of sternness, to hide his inward emotion and tenderness. "Please, your Highness," said the messenger, making a desperate effort, " Count Otto is not at the convent." " Know ye, knave, where he is ? " The swain solemnly said, " I do. He is thcre.^'' He point- ed as he spake to the broad Rhine, that was seen from the casement, lighted ujd by the magnificent hues of sunset. "77/r;r/ How mean ye there 7 gasped the Margrave, wrought to a pitch of nervous fury. " Alas ! my good lord, when he was in the boat which was to conduct him to the convent, he — he jumped suddenly from it, and is dr — dr — owned." " Carry that knave out and hang him ! " said the Mar- grave, with a calmness more dreadful than any outburst of rage. •' Let every man of tlic boat's crew be blown from the mouth THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG. 231 of the cannon on the tower — except the coxswain, and let hini be^ " What was to be done with the coxswain, no one knows ; for at that moment, and overcome by his emotion, tlae Mar- grave sank down lifeless on the floor. Chapter VIII. THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG. It must be clear to the dullest intellect (if amongst our readers we dare venture to presume that a dull intellect should be found) that the cause of the Margrave's fainting-fit, described in the last chapter, was a groundless apprehension on the part of that too solicitous and credulous nobleman regarding the fate of his beloved child. No, young Otto was not drowned. Was ever hero of romantic story done to death so early in the tale? Young Otto was Jiot drowned. Had such been the case, the Lord Margrave would infallibly have died at the close of the last chajDter ; and a few gloomy sentences at its close would have denoted how the lovely Lady Theodora became insane in the convent, and how Sir Ludwig determined, upon the demise of the old hermit (consequent upon the shock of hearing the news), to retire to the vacant hermitage, and assume the robe, the beard, the mortifications of the late venerable and solitary ecclesiastic. Otto was not drowned, and all those personages of our history are consequently alive and well. The boat containing the amazed young Count — for he knew not the cause of his father's anger, and hence rebelled against the unjust sentence which the Margrave had uttered — had not rowed many miles, when the gallant boy rallied from his tem- porary surprise and despondency, and determined not to be a slave in any convent of any order: determined to make a desperate effort for escape. At a moment when the men were pulling hard against the tide, and Kuno, the coxswain, was looking carefully to steer the barge between some dangerous rocks and quicksands, which were frequently met with in the majestic though dangerous river. Otto gave a sudden spring from the boat, and v/ith one single flounce was in the boiling, frothing, swirling eddy of the stream. 232 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. Fancy the agony of the crew at the disappearance of their young lord ! All loved him • all would have given their lives for him ; but as they did not know how to swim, of course they declined to make any useless plunges in search of him, and stood on their oars in mute wonder and grief. Once, his fair head and golden ringlets were seen to arise from the water ; twice, puffing and panting, it appeared for an instant again ; i/trice, it rose but for one single moment: it was the last chance, and it sunk, sunk, sunk. Knowing the reception they would meet with from their liege lord, the men naturally did not go home to Godesberg, but putting in at the first creek on the opposite bank, fled into the Duke of Nassau's territory ; where, as they have little to do with our tale, we will leave them. But they little knew how expert a swimmer was young Otto. He had disappeared, it is true; but why? because he had dived. He calculated that his conductors would consider him drowned, and the desire of liberty lending him wings, (or we had rather szyjins, in this instance,) the gallant boy swam on beneath the water, never lifting his head for a single moment hetween Godesberg and Cologne — the distance being twenty- five or thirty miles. Escaping from observation, he landed on the Betefz side of the river, repaired to a comfortable and quiet hostel there, say- ing he had had an accident from a boat, and thus accounting for the moisture of his habiliments, and while these were dry- ing before a fire in his chamber, went snugly to bed, where he mused, not without amaze, on the strange events of the day. " This morning," thought he, " a noble, and heir to a princely estate — this evening an outcast, with but a few bank-notes which my mamma luckily gave me on my birthday. What a •Grange entry into life is this for a young man of my family ! Well, I have courage and resolution : my first attempt in life has been a gallant and successful one ; other dangers will be conquered by similar bravery." And recommending himself, his unhappy mother, and his mistaken father to the care of tlieir patron saint. Saint Buffo, the gallant-hearted boy fell presently into such a sleep, as only the young, the healthy, the amocent, and the extremely fatigued can enjoy. Tlie fatigues of the day (and very few men but would be fatigued after swimming wellnigh thirty miles under water) caused young Otto to sleep so profoundly, that he did not remark how, after Friday's sunset, as a natural consequence, Saturday's Pha;bus illumined the world, ay, and sunk at his appointed hour. The serving-maidens of the hostel,, peeping THE CHILD E OF GODESBUKG. 233 in, marked him sleeping, and blessing him for a pretty youth, tripped lightly from the chamber ; the boots triecl haply twice or thrice to call him (as boots will fain), but the lovely boy, giving another snore, turned on his side, and was quite uncon- scious of the interruption. In a word, the youth slej^t for six- and-thirty hours at an elongation ; and the Sunday sun was shining, and the bells of the hundred churches of Cologne were clinking and toiling in pious festivity, and the burghers and burgheresses of the town were trooping to vespers and morn- ing service when Otto awoke. As he donned his clothes of the richest Genoa velvet, the astonished boy could not at first account for his difficulty in putting them on. " Marrj^" said he, " these breeches that my blessed mother " (tears filled his fine eyes as he thought of her) — " that my blessed mother had made long on purpose, are now ten inches too short for me. Whir-r-r ! my coat cracks i' the back, as in vain I try to buckle it round me ; and the sleeves reach no farther than my elbows ! What is this mys- tery ? Am I grown fat and tall in a single night ? Ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! I have it." The young and good-humored Childe laughed merrily. He bethought him of the reason of his mistake : his garments had shrunk from being five-and-twenty miles under water. But one remedy presented itself to his mind ; and that we need not say was to purchase new ones. Inquiring the way to the most genteel ready-made-clothes' establishment in the city of Cologne, and finding it was kept in the Minoriten Strasse, by an ancestor of the celebrated Moses of London, the noble Childe hied him towards the emporium ; but you may be sure did not neglect to perform his religious duties by the way. En- tering the cathedral, he made straight for the shrine of Saint Buffo, and hiding himself behind a pillar there (fearing he might be recognized by the archbishop, or any of his father's numerous friends in Cologne), he proceeded with his devotions, as was the practice of the young nobles of the age. But though exceedingly intent upon the service, yet his eye could not refrain from wandering a little round about him, and he remarked with surprise that the whole church was filled with archers ; and he remembered, too, that he had seen in the streets numerous other bands of men similarly attired in green. On asking at the cathedral porch the cause of this assemblage, one of the green ones said (in a jape), " Marry, youngster, you must be green, not to know that we are all bound to the castle of his Grace Duke Adolf of Cleves. who gives an 234 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE archery meeting once a year, and prizes for which we toxoph* ilites muster strong." Otto, whose course hitherto had been undetermined, now immediately settled what to do. He straightway repaired to the ready-made emporium of Herr Moses, and bidding that gentleman furnish him with an arclier's complete dress, Moses speedily selected a suit from his vast stock, which fitted the youth to a /, and we need not say was sold at an exceedingly moderate price. So attired (and bidding Herr Moses a cordial farewell), young Otto was a gorgeous, a noble, a soul-inspiring boy to gaze on. A coat and breeches of the most brilliant pea-green, ornamented with a profusion of brass buttons, and fitting him with exquisite tightness, showed off a figure un- rivalled for slim symmetry. His feet were covered with peaked buskins of buff leather, and a belt round his slender waist, of the same material, held his knife, his tobacco-pipe and pouch, and his long shining dirk ; which, though the adventurous youth had as yet only employed it to fashion wicket-bails, or to cut bread-and-cheese, he was now quite ready to use against the enemy. His personal attractions were enhanced by a neat white hat, flung carelessly and fearlessly on one side of his open smiling countenance ; and his lovely hair, curling in ten thousand yellow ringlets, fell over his shoulder like golden epaulettes, and down his back as far as the waist-buttons of his coat. I warrant me, many a lovely Colnerinn looked after the handsome Childe with anxiety, and dreamed that night of Cupid under the guise of " a bonny boy in green." So accoutred, the youth's next thought was, that he must supply himself with a bow. This he speedily purchased at the most fashionable bowyer's, and of the best material and make. It was of ivory, trimmed with pink ribbon, and the cord of silk. An elegant quiver, beautifully painted and embroidered, was slung across his back, with a dozen of the finest arrows, tipped witii steel of Damascus, formed of the branches of the famous Upas-tree of Java, and feathered with the wings of the ortolan. These purchases being completed (together with that of a knap- sack, dressing-case, change, &c.), our young adventurer asked where was the hostel at which the archers were wont to as- semble ? and being informed that it was at the sign of the " Golden Stag," hied him to that house of entertainment, where, by calling for quantities of liquor and beer, he speedily made the acquaintance and acquired the good-will of a company of his future comrades, who happened to be sitting in the coffee room. THE CHILD E OF GODESBERG. 235 After they had eaten and drunken for all, Otto said, ad- dressing them, •'' When go ye forth, gentles ? I am a stranger here, bound as you to the archery meeting of Duke Adolf. An ye will admit a youth into your company 'twill gladden me upon my lonely way! " The archers replied, " You seem so young and jolly, and you spend your gold so very like a gentleman, that we'll receive you in our band with pleasure. Be ready, for we start at half- past two 1 " At that hour accordingly the whole joyous com- pany prepared to move, and Otto not a little increased his popularity among them by stepping out and having a conference with the landlord, which caused the latter to come into the room where the archers were assembled previous to departure, and to say, " Gentlemen, the bill is settled ! " — words never un- grateful to an archer yet : no, Marr}'-, nor to a man of any other calling that I wot of. They marched joyously for several leagues, singing and joking, and telling of a thousand feats of love and chase and war. While thus engaged, some one remarked to Otto, that he was not dressed in the regular uniform, having no feathers in his hat. " I dare say I will find a feather," said the lad, smiling. Then another gibed because his bow was new. " See that you can use your old one as well, Master Wolf- gang," said the undisturbed youth. His answers, his bearing, his generosity, his beauty, and his wit, inspired all his new toxophilite friends with interest and curiosity, and they longed to see whether his skill with the bow corresponded with their secret sympathies for him. An occasion for manifesting this skill did not fail to present itself soon — as indeed it seldom does to such a hero of romance as young Otto was. Fate seems to watch over such : events occur to them just in the nick of time ; they rescue virgins just as ogres are on the point of devouring them ; they manage to be present at court and interesting ceremonies, and to see the most interesting people at the most interesting moment ; directly an adventure is necessary for them, that adventure occurs : and I, for my part, have often wondered with delight (and never could penetrate the mystery of the subject) at the way in which that humblest of romance heroes, Signor Clown, when he wants anything in the Pantomime, straightway finds it to his hand. How is it that, — suppose he wishes to dress him- self up like a woman for instance, that minute a coalheaver walks in with a shovel-hat that answers for a bonnet ; at the 236 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. very next instant a butcher's lad passing with a string of sausages and a bundle of bladders unconsciously helps Master Clown to a necklace and a iournurc, and so on through the whole toilet ? Depend upon it there is something we do not wot of in that mysterious overcoming of circumstances by great individuals : that apt and wondrous conjuncture of the Hour and the Alan ; and so, for my part, when I heard the above remark of one of the archers, that Otto had never a feather in his bonnet, I felt sure that a heron would spring up in the next sentence to supply him with an aigrette. And such indeed was the fact : rising out of a morass by which the archers were passing, a gallant heron, arching his neck, swelling his crest, placing his legs behind him, and his beak and red eyes against the wind, rose slowly, and offered the fairest mark in the world. " Shoot, Otto,'' said one of the archers. " You would not shoot just now at a crow because it was a foul bird, nor at a hawk because it was a noble bird ; bring us down yon heron : it flies slowly." But Otto was busy that moment tying his shoestring, and Rudolf, the third best of the archers, shot at the bird and missed it. " Shoot, Otto," said Wolfgang, a youth who had taken a liking to the young archer : " the bird is getting further and further." But Otto was busy that moment whittling a willow-twig he had just cut. Max, the second best archer, shot and missed. " Then," said Wolfgang, " I must try myself : a plague on you, young springald, you have lost a noble chance ! " Wolfgang prepared himself with all his care, and shot at the bird. " It is out of distance," said he, " and a murrain on the bird ! " Otto, who by this time had done whittling his willow-stick (having carved a capital caricature of Wolfgang upon it), flung the twig down and said carelessly, " Out of distance ! Pshaw ! We have two minutes yet," and fell to asking riddles and cut- ting jokes ; to the which none of the archers listened, as they were all engaged, their noses in air, watching the retreating bird. " Where shall I hit him ? " said Otto. "Go to," said Rudolf, "thou canst see no limb of him : he is no bigger than a flea." " Here goes for his right eye ! " said Otto ; and stepping forward in the English manner (wliicli his godfather having THE CHILD E OF CODESBERG. 237 learnt in Palestine, had taught him), he brought his bowstring to his ear, took a good aim, allowing for the wind and calcu- lating the parabola to a nicety. Whizz ! his arrow went off. He took up the willow-twig again and began carving a head of Rudolf at the other end, chatting and laughing, and sinoing: a ballad the while. The archers, after standing a long time looking skywards with their noses in the air, at last brought them down from the perpendicular to the horizontal position, and said, " Pooh, this lad is a humbug ! The arrow's lost ; let's go ! " " Heads I " cried Otto, laughing. A speck was seen rapidly descending from the heavens ; it grew to be as big as a crown- piece, then as a partridge, then as a tea-kettle, and flop ! down fell a magnificent heron to the ground, flooring poor Max in its fall. " Take the arrow out of his eye, Wolfgang," said Otto, without looking at the bird : " wipe it and put it back into my quiver." The arrow indeed was there, having penetrated right through the pupil. " Are you in league with Der Freischiitz ? " said Rudolf, quite amazed. Otto laughingly whistled the "Huntsman's Chorus," and said, " No, my friend. It was a lucky shot : only a lucky shot, I was taught shooting, look you, in the fashion of merry Eng- land, where the archers are archers indeed." And so he cut off the heron's wing for a plume for his hat ; and the archers walked on, much amazed, and saying, " What a wonderful country that merry England must be ! " Far from feeling any envy at their comrade's success, the jolly archers recognized his superiority with pleasure ; and Wolfgang and Rudolf especially held out their hands to the younker, and besought the honor of his friendship. They con- tinued their walk all day, and when night fell made choice of a good hostel you may be sure, where over beer, punch, cham- pagne, and every luxury, they drank to the health of the Duke of Cleves, and indeed each other's healths all round. Next day they resumed their march, and continued it without inter- ruption, except to take in a supply of victuals here and there (and it was found on these occasions that Otto, young as he was, could eat four times as much as the oldest archer present, and drink to correspond); and these conti nied refreshments having given them more than ordinary strength, they deter- mined on making rather a long march of it, and did not halt till after nightfall at the gates of the little town of Windeck. 238 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE. What was to be done ? the town-gates were shut. " Is there no hostel, no castle where we can sleep? " asked Otto of the sentinel at the gate. " I am so hungry that in lack of better food I think I could eat my grandmamma." The sentinel laughed at this hyperbolical expression of hunger, and said, " You had best go sleep at the Castle of Windeck yonder \ " adding with a peculiarly knowing look, " Nobody will disturb you there." At that moment the moon broke out from a cloud, and showed on a hill hard by a castle indeed — but the skeleton of a castle. The roof was gone, the windows were dismantled, the towers were tumbling, and the cold moonlight pierced it through and through. One end of the building was, however, still covered in, and stood looking still more frowning, vast, and gloomy, even than the other part of the edifice. " There is a lodging, certainly," said Otto to the sentinel, who pointed towards the castle with his bartizan ; " but tell me, good fellow, what are we to do for a supper ? " " Oh, the castellan of Windeck will entertain you," said the man-at-arms with a grin, and marched up the embrasure ; the while the archers, taking counsel among themselves, de- bated whether or not they should take up their quarters in the gloomy and deserted edifice. "We shall get nothing but an owl for supper there," said young Otto. '' Marry, lads, let us storm the town ; we are thirty gallant fellows, and I have heard the garrison is not more than three hundred." But the rest of the party thought such a way of getting supper was not a very cheap one, and, grovelling knaves, preferred rather to sleep ignobly and without victuals, than dare the assault with Otto, and die, or conquer something comfortable. One and all then made their way towards the castle. They entered its vast and silent halls, frightening the owls and bats that fled before them with hideous hootings and flappings of wings, and passing by a multiplicity of mouldy stairs, dank reeking roofs, and rickety corridors, at last came to an apart- ment which, dismal and dismantled as it was, appeared to be in rather better condition than the neighboring chambers, and they therefore selected it as their place of rest for the night. They then tossed up which should mount guard. The first two hours of watch fell to Otto, who was to ,^(p succeeded by his young though humble friend Wolfgang ; aiid, accordingly, the Childe of Godesberg, drawing his dirk, began to pace upon his weary round ; while his comrades, by various gradations THE LADY OF WINDECK. 2^^ of snoring, told how profoundly they slept, spite of their lack of supper. 'Tis needless to say what were the thoughts of the noble Childe as he performed his two hours' watch ; what gushing memories poured into his soul ; ''what sweet and bitter" rec- ollections of home inspired his throbbing heart ; and what manly aspirations after fame buoyed him up. "Youth is ever confident," says the bard. Happy, happy season ! The moon- lit hours passed by on silver win:;s, the twinkling stars looked friendly down upon him. Confiding in their youthful sentinel, sound slept the valorous toxophilites, as up and down, and there and back again, marched on the noble Childe. At length his repeater told him, much to his satisfaction, that it was half- past eleven, the hour when his watch was to cease ; and so, giving a playful kick to the slumbering Wolfgang, that good- humored fellow sprung up from his lair, and, drav/inghis sword, proceeded to relieve Otto. The latter laid him down for warmth's sake on the very spot which his comrade had left, and for some time could not sleep. Realities and visions then began to mingle in his mind, till he scarce knew which was which. He dozed for a minute; then he woke with a start ; then he went off again ; then woke up again. In one of these half-sleeping moments he thought he saw a figure, as of a woman in Avhite, gliding into the room, and beckoning Wolfgang from it. He looked again. Wolfgang was gone. At that moment twelve o'clock clanged from the town, and Otto started up. Chapter IX. THE LADY OF WINDECK. As the bell with iron tongue called midnight, Wolfgang the Archer, joacing on his watch, beheld before him a pale female figure. He did not know whence she came : but there suddenly she stood close to him. Her blue, clear, glassy eyes were fixed upon him. Her form was of faultless beauty ; her face pale as the marble of the fairy statue, ere yet the sculptor's love had given it life. A smile played upon her features, but it was no warmer than the reflection of a moonbeam on a lake; and yet it was wondrous beautiful. A fascination stole over 240 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. the senses of young Wolfgang. He stared at the lovely appa- rition with fixed eyes and distended jaws. She looked at him with ineffable archness. She lifted one beautifully rounded alabaster arm, and made a sign as if to beckon him towards her. Did Wolfgang — the young and lusty Wolfgang — follow? Ask the iron whether it follows the magnet ? — ask the pointer whether it pursues the partridge through the stubble ? — ask the youth whether the lollypop-shop does not attract him ? Wolf- gang did follow. An antique door opened, as if by^ magic. There was no light, and yet they saw quite plain ; they passed through the innumerable ancient chambers, and yet they did not w^ke any of the owls and bats roosting there. We know not through how many apartments the young couple passed ; but at last they came to one where a feast was prepared ; and on an antique table, covered with massive silver, covers were laid for two. The lady took her place at one end of the table, and with her sweetest nod beckoned Wolfgang to the other seat. The table was small, and their knees met. He felt as cold in his legs, as if he were kneeling against an ice-well. ■ " Gallant archer," said she, " you must be hungry after your day's march. What supper will you have ? Shall it be a deli- cate lobster-salad ? or a dish of elegant tripe and onions ? or a slice of boar's-head and truffles > or a Welsh rabbit d, la cave au cidre? or a beefsteak and shallot ? or a couple of ?-ogtio?is a la brochettc ? Speak, brave bowyer ; you have but to order." As there was nothing on the table but a covered silver dish, Wolfgang thought that the lady who proposed such a multi- plicity of delicacies to him was only laughing at him ; so he determined to try her with something extremely rare. " Fair princess," he said, " I should like very much a pork- chop and some mashed potatoes." She lifted the cover : there was such a pork-chop as Simi> son never served, with a dish of mashed potatoes that would liave formed at least six portions in our degenerate days in Rupert Street. When he had helped himself to these delicacies, the lady put the cover on the dish again, and watched him eating with interest. He was for some time too much occupied with his own food to remark that his companion did not eat a morsel ; but big as it was, his chop was soon gone ; the shining silver of his plate was scraped quite clean with his knife, and, heav- ing a great sigh, he confessed a humble desire for something to drink. " Call for what you like, sweet sir," said the lady, lifting u' THE LAD Y Of WINDECK. 241 & Silver filigree bottle, with an india-rubber cork, ornamented with gold. " Then," said Master Wolfgang— for the fellow's tastes were, in sooth, very humble — " I call for half-and-half." According to his wish, a pint of that delicious beverage was poured from the bottle, foaming, into his beaker. Having emptied this at a draught, and declared that on his conscience it was the best tap he ever knew in his life, the young man felt his appetite renewed ; and it is impossible to say how many different dishes he called for. Only enchant- ment, he was afterwards heard to declare (though none of his friends believed him), could have given him the appetite he possessed on that extraordinary night. He called for another pork-chop and potatoes, then for pickled salmon • then he thought he would try a devilled turkey-wing. ^' I adore the devil," said he, *'Sodo I," said the pale lady, with unwonted animation; and the dish was served straightway. It was succeeded by black-puddings, tripe, toasted cheese, and — what was most re- markable — every one of the dishes which he desired came from under the same silver cover : which circumstance, when he had partaken of about fourteen different articles, he began to find rather mysterious. "Oh," said the pale lady, with a smile, ^' the mystery is easily accounted for; the servants hear you, and the kitchen is ^t'/o7ci." But this did not account for the manner in which more lialf-and-half, bitter ale, punch (both gin and rum), and even oil and vinegar, which he took with cucumber to his salmon, came out of the self-same bottle from which the lady had first poured out his pint of half-and-half. " There are more things in heaven and earth, Voracio," said his arch entertainer, when he put this question to her, ^' than are dreamt of in your philosophy ; " and, sooth to say, the archer was by this time in such a state, that he did not find anything wonderful more, " Are you happy, dear youth ? " said the lady, as, after his collation, he sank back in his chair. " Oh, miss, ain't I J " was liis interrogative and yet affirma- tive reply. " Should you like such a supper every night, Wolfgang ? " continued the jDale one. " Why, no," said he ; " no, not exactly .; not every night : }.o)fn' nights I should like oysters." '"Dera- youth/' said she, "be but mine, and you may have 242 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. them all the year round ! " The unhappy boy was too faf gone to suspect anything, otherwise this extraordinary speech would have told him that he was in suspicious company. A person who can offer oysters all the year round can live to no^ good purpose. " Shall I sing you a song, dear archer ? " said the lady. " Sweet love ! " said he, no\v much excited, " strike up, and I will join the chorus." She took down her mandolin, and commenced a ditty, 'Twas a sweet and wild one. It told how a lady of high lineage cast her eyes on a peasant page ; it told how nought could her love assuage, her suitor's wealth and her father's rage : it told how the youth did his foes engage ; and at length they went off in the Gretna stage, the high-born dame and the peasant page, Wolfgang beat time, waggled his head, sung wofully out of tune- as the song proceeded ; and \i he had not been too intoxicated with love and other excitement, he would have remarked how the pictures on the wall, as the lady sung, began to waggle their heads too, and nod and grin to the music. The song en- ded. " I am the lady o£ high lineage : Archer, will you be the peasant page?" '* I'll follow you to the devil ! " said Wolfgang. " Come," replied the lady, glaring wildly on him, " come to the chapel ; we'll be married this minute ! " She held out her hand — Wolfgang took it. It was cold^ damp, — deadly cold ; and on they went to the chapel. As they passed out, the two pictures over the wall, of a gen- tleman and lady, tripped lightly out of their frames, skipped noiselessly down to the ground, and making the retreating couple a profound curtsey and bow, took the places which they had left at the table. Meanwhile the young couple passed on towards the chapel, threading innumerable passages, and passing through chambers of great extent. As they came along, all the portraits on the wall stepped out of their frames to follow them. One ancestor, of whom there was only a bust, frowned in the greatest rage, because, having no legs, his pedestal would not move ; and several sticking-plaster profiles of the former Lords of Windeck looked quite black at being, for similar reasons, compelled to keep their places. However, there was a goodly procession formed behind \^'olfgang and his bride ; and by the time thej reached the church, they had near a hundred followers. The church was splendidly illuminated; the old banners of the old kniglits glittered as ihcy <}\.o at Drury Lane. The or- THE LADY OF WIND EC K. 243 $an set up of itself to jDlay the " Bridesmaid's Chorus." The choir-chairs were filled, with people in black. "Come, love," said the pale lady. " I don't see the parson," exclaimed Wolfgang, spite of him- self rather alarmed. " Oh, the parson ! that's the easiest thing in the world ! I say, bishop ! " said the lady, stooping down. Stooping down — and to what? Why, upon my word and honor, to a great brass plate on the floor, over which they were passing, and on which was engraven the figure of a bishop — ■ and a very ugly bishop, too — with crosier and mitre, and lifted finger, on which sparkled the episcopal ring. " Do, my dear lord, come and marry us," said the lady, with a levity which shocked the feelings of her bridegroom. The bishop got up ; and directly he rose, a dean, who was sleeping under a large slate near him, came bowing and cring- ing up to him ; while a canon of the cathedral (whose name was Schidnischmidt) began grinning and making fun at the pair. The ceremonv was begun, and * * * * As the clock struck twelve, 3^oung Otto bounded up, and remarked the absence of his companion Wolfgang. The idea he had had, that his friend disappeared in company with a white-robed female, struck him more and more. " I will follow them," said he ; and, calling to the next on the watch (old Snozo, who was right unwilling to forego his sleep), he rushed away by the door through which he had seen Wolfgang and his temptress take their way. That he did not find them was not his fault. The castle w^as vast, the chamber dark. There were a thousand doors, and what wonder that, after he had once lost sight of them, the intrepid Childe should not be able to follow in their steps ? As might be expected, he took the wrong door, and wandered for at least three hours about the dark enormous solitary castle, calling out Wolfgang's name to the careless and indifferent echoes, knocking his young shins against the ruins scattered in the darkness, but still with a spirit entirely undaunted, and a firm resolution to aid his absent comrade. Brave Otto ! thy exertions were rewarded at last ! For he lighted at length upon the very apartment where Wolfgang had partaken of supper, and where the old couple who had been in the pictures-frames, and turned out to be the lady's father and mother, were now sitting at the table. "Well, Bertha Jias got a husband at last," said the lady. 244 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE. "After waiting four hundred and fifty-three years for one, ii was quite time," said the gentleman. (He was dressed in powder and a pigtail, quite in the old fashion.) "The husband is no great things," continued the lady, taking snuff. "A low fellow, my dear; a butcher's son, I believe. Did you see how the wretch ate at supper ? To think my daughter should have to marry an archer ! " " There are archers and archers," said the old man. " Some archers are snobs, as your ladyship states ; some, on the con- trary, are gentlemen by birth, at least, though not by breeding. Witness young Otto, the Landgrave of Godesberg's son, who is listening at the door like a lackey, and whom I intend to run through the " "Law, Baron !" said the lady. " I will, though," replied the Baron, drawing an immense sword, and glaring round at Otto : but though at the sight of that sword and that scowl a less valorous youth would have taken to his heels, the undaunted Childe advanced at once into the apartment. He wore round his neck a relic of St. Buffo (the tip of the saint's ear, which had been cut off at Constan- tinople), "Fiends! I command you to retreat!" said he, holding up this sacred charm, which his mamma had fastened on him ; and at the sight of it, with an unearthly yell the ghost of the Baron and the Baroness sprung back into their picture frames, as clown goes through a clock in a pantomime. He rushed through the open door by which the unlucky Wolfgang had passed with his demoniacal bride, and went on and on through the vast gloomy chambers lighted by the ghastly moonshine : the noise of the organ in the chapel, the lights in the kaleidoscopic windows, directed him towards that edifice. He rushed to the door : 'twas barred ! He knocked : the beadles were deaf. He applied his inestimable relic to the lock, and — whizz! crash! clang! bang! whang! — the gate flew open ! the organ went off in a fugue — the lights quivered over the tapers, and then went off towards the ceiling — the ghosts assembled rushed away with a skurry and a scream — the bride howled, and vanished — the fat bishop waddled back under his brass plate — the dean flounced down into his family vault — and the canon Schidnischmidt, who was making a joke, as usual, on the bishop, was obliged to stop at the very point of his epigram, and to disappear into the void whence he came. Otfo fell fainting at the porch, while Wolfgang tumbled lifeless down at the altar-steps ; and in this situation the archers, when th.ey arrived^ found the two youths. I'hey were THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. 245 resuscitated, as we scarce need say : but when, in incoherent accents, they came to tell their wondrous tale, some skeptics among the archers said — " Pooh ! they were intoxicated ! " while others, nodding their older heads, exclaimed — " They have seen the Lady of IVindeck T' and recalled the stories ot many other young men, who, inveigled by her devilish arts, had not been so lucky as Wolfgang, and had disappeared — for- ever ! This adventure bound Wolfgang heart and soul to his gal- lant preserver ; and the archers — it being now morning, and the cocks crowing lustily round about — pursued their way with out further delay to the castle of the noble patron of toxoplv ilites, the gallant Duke of Cleves. Chapter X. THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. Although there lay an immense number of castles and abbeys between Windeck and Cleves, for every one of which the guide-books have a legend and a ghost, who might, with the com- monest stretch of ingenuity, be made to waylay our adventurers on the road ; yet, as the journey would be ti:us almost inter- minable, let us cut it short by saying that the travellers reached Cleves without any further accident, and found the place thronged with visitors for the meeting next day. And here it would be easy to describe the compairy which arrived, and make display of antiquarian lore. Now we would represent a cavalcade of knights arriving, with their pages carrying their chinmg helms of gold, and the stout esquiries, bearers of lance and banner. Anon would arrive a fat abbot on his ambling pad, surrounded by the white-robed companions of his convent. Here should come the gleemen and jongleurs, the minstrels, the mountebanks, the parti-colored gypsies, the dark- eyed, nut-brown Zigeunerinnen ; then a troop of peasants chant ing Rhine-songs, and leading in their ox-drawn carts the peach cheeked girls from the vine-lands. Next we would depict the litters blazoned with armorial bearings, from between thebroid- ered curtains of which peeped out the swan-like necks and the haughty faces of the blonde ladies of the castles. But for these 246 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. descriptions we have not space ; and the reader is referred to the account of the tournament in the ingenious novel of " Ivan- hoe," where the above phenomena are described at length. Suffice it to say, that Otto and his companions arrived at the town of Cleves, and, hastening to a hostel, reposed themselves after the day's march, and prepared them for the encounter of the morrow. That morrow came : and as the sports were to begin early. Otto and his comrades hastened to the field, armed with their best bows and arrows, you may be sure, and eager to distin- guish themselves ; as were the multitude of other archers as- sembled. They were from all neighboring countries — crowds of English, as you may fancy, armed with Murray's guide- books, troops of chattering Frenchmen, Frankfort Jews with roulette-tables, and Tyrolese, with gloves and trinkets — all hied towards the field where the butts were set up, and the archery practice was to be held. The Childe and his brother archers were, it need not to be said, early on the ground. But what words of mine can describe the young gentle- man's emotion when, preceded by a band of trumpets, bag- pipes, ophicleides, and other wind instruments, the Prince of Cleves appeared with the Princess Helen, his daughter } And ah ! what expressions of my humble pen can do justice to the beauty of that young lady ? Fancy every charm which decor- ates the person, every virtue which ornaments the mind, every accomplishment which renders charming mind and charming person doubly charming, and then you will have but a faint and feeble idea of the beauties of her Highness the Princess Helen. Fancy a complexion such as they say (I know not with what justice) Rowland's Kalydor imparts to the users of that cosmetic ; fancy teeth to which orient pearls are like Walls- end coals ; eyes, which were so blue, tender, and bright, that while they run you through with their lustre, they healed you with their kindness ; a neck and waist, so ravishingly slender and graceful, that the least that is said about them the better ; a foot which fell upon the flowers no heavier than a dewdrop — ■ and this charming person set off by the most elegant toilet that ever milliner devised ! The lovely Helen's hair (which was as black as the finest varnish for boots) was so long, that it was borne on a cushion several yards behind her by the maidens of her train; and a hat, set off with moss-roses, sunflowers, bugles, birds of paradise, gold lace, and pink ribbon, gave her a cfistin^^iic air, which would have set the editor of the Morning fost mad with love. THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN". 347 It had exactly the same effect upon the noble Childe of Godesberg, as leaning on his ivory bow, with liis legs crossed, he stood and gazed on her, as Cupid gazed on Psyche. Their eyes met : it was all over with both of them. A blush came af one and the same minute budding to the cheek of either. A simultaneous throb beat in those young hearts ! They loved each other forever from that instant. Otto still stood, cross- legged, enraptured, leaning on his ivory bov\f ; but Helen, call- ing to a maiden for her pocket-handkerchief, blew her beauti- ful Grecian nose in order to hide her agitation. Eless ye, bless ye, pretty ones ! I am old now ; but not so old but that I kindle at the tale of love. Theresa MacWliirter too has lived and loved. Heigho ! Who is yon chief that stands behind the truck whereon are seated the Princess and the stout old lord, her father ? Who is he whose hair is of the carroty hue .? whose eyes, across a snubby bunch of a nose, are perpetually scowling at each other J who has a hump-back, and a hideous mouth, surrounded with bristles, and crammed full of jutting yellow odious teeth. Although he wears a sky-blue doublet laced with silver, it only serves to render his vulgar punchy figure doubly ridiculous ; although his nether garment is of salmon-colored velvet, it only draws the more attention to his legs, which are disgust- ingly crooked and bandy, A rose-colored hat, with towering pea-green ostrich-plumes, looks absurd on his bull-head ; and though it is time of peace, the wretch is armed with a multi- jDlicity of daggers, knives, yataghans, dirks, and sabres, and scimitars, which testify his truculent and bloody disposition. 'Tis the terrible Rovvski de Donnerblitz, Margrave of Eulen- .i5chreckenstein. Report says he is a suitor for the hand of the lovely Helen. He addresses various speeches of gallantry to her, and grins hideously as be thrusts his disgusting head over her lily shoulder. But she turns away from him ! turns and shudders — ay, as she would at a black dose ! Otto stands gazing still, and leaning on his bow. " What is the prize ! " asks one archer of another. There are two prizes — a velvet cap, embroid-ered by the hand of the Princess, and a chain of massive gold, of enormous value. Both lie on cushions before her. " I know which I shall choose, when I win the first prize," says a swarthy, savage, and bandy-legged archer, who bears the owl gules on a black shield, the cognizance of the Lord Rowski de Donnerblitz. •" Which, fellow ? " says Otto, turning fiercely upon him. 248 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE. "The chain, to be sure!" says the leering archer. "You do not suppose I am such a flat as as to choose that velvet gimcrack there ? " Otto laughed in scorn, and began to pre- pare his bow. The trumj^ets sounding proclaimed that the sports were about to commence. Is it necessary to describe them ? No : that has already been done in the novel of "■ Ivanhoe " before mentioned. Fancy the archers clad in Lincoln green, all coming forward in turn, and firing at the targets. Some hit, some missed ; those that missed were fain to retire ainidst the jeers of the multitudinous spectators. Those that hit began new trials of skill ; but it was easy to see, from the first, that the battle lay between Squintoff (the Rowski archer) and the young hero with the golden hair and the ivory bow. Squintoff 's fame as a marskn7an was known throughout Europe; but who was his young coinjDctitor } Ah ! there was one heart in the assembly that beat most anxiously to know. 'Twas Helen's. The crowning trial arrived. The bull's-eye of the target, set up at three-quarters of a mile distance from the arcliers, was so sniall,. that it required a very clever man indeed to see, much more to hit it \ and as Squintoff was selecting his arrow for the final trial, the Rowski flung a purse of gold to^vards his archer, saying — Squintoff, an ye win the prize, the purse is thine." "I may as well pocket it at once, your honor," said the bowman, with a sneer at Otto. " This young chick, who has been lucky as yet, will hardly hit such a mark as that." And, taking his aim, Squintoff discharged his arrow right into the very middle of the bull's-eye. " Can you mend that, young springald ? "■ said he, as a shout rent the air at his success, as Helen turned pale to think that the champion of her secret heart was likely to be over- come, and as Squintoff, |xx:keting the Rowski's money, turned to the noble boy of Godesberg. " Has anybody got a pea ? " asked the lad. Everybody laughed at his droll request ; and an old woman, who was selling f>orridge in the crowd, handed him the vegetable which he demanded. It was a dry and yellow pea. Otto, stepping up to the target, caused Squintoff to extract his arrow from the buU's-eye, and placed in the orifice made by the steel point of the shaft, the pea which he had received fron^ the old woman. He then came back to his place. As he prepared to shoot, Helen was so overcome by emotion, that 'twas thought she would have fainted. Never, never had she seen a being so beautiful as the young hero now before her.. THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. j^^ He looked almost divine. He flung back his long clusters of hair from his bright eyes and tall forehead ; the blush of health mantled on his cheek, from which the barber's weapon had never shorn the down. He took his bow, and one of his most elegant arrows, and poising himself lightly on his right leg, he flung himself forward, raising his left leg on a level with his ear. He looked like Apollo, as he stood balancing himself there. He discharged his dart from the thrumming bowstring* it clove the blue air — whizz ! " He has split the pea ! " said the" Princess, and fainted. The Rowski, with one eye, hurled an indignant look at the boy, while with the other he levelled (if aught so crooked can be said to level anything) a furious glance at his archer. The archer swore a sulky oath. " He is the better man ! " said he. " I suppose, young chap, you take the gold chain ? " '• The gold chain ! " said Otto. " Prefer a gold chain to a cap worked by that august hand .'' Never ! " And advancing to the balcony where the Princess, who now came to herself, was sitting, he kneeled down before her, and received the velvet cap ; Avhich, blushing as scarlet as the cap itself, the Princess Helen placed on his golden ringlets. Once more their eyes met — their hearts thriired. They had never spoken, but they knew they loved each other forever. " Wilt thou take service with the Rowski of Donnerblitz ? " said the individual to the youth. " Thou shalt be captain of my archers in place of yon blundering nincompoop, whom thou hast overcome." " Yon blundering nincompoop is a skilful and gallant archer," replied Otto, haughtily ; and I will not take service with the Rowski of Donnerblitz." " Wilt thou enter the household of the Prince of Cleves ? " said the father of Helen, laughing, and not a little amused at the haughtiness of the humble archer. " I would die for the Duke of Cleves and his/amify" said Otto, bowing low. He laid a particular and a tender emphasis on the word family. Helen knew what he meant. She was the family. In fact, her mother was no more, and her papa had no other offspring. "What is thy name, good fellow," said the Prince, "that my steward may enrol thee .? " " Sir," said Otto, again blushing, " I am Otto the A.RCHER." 25© A LEGEND OE THE RHINE. CHAPTER XI. THE MARTVR OF LOVE. The archers who had travelled in company with young Otto, gave a handsome dinner in compliment to the success of our hero ; at which his friend distinguished himself as usual in the eating and drinknig department. Squintoff, the Rovvski bowman, declined to attend : so great was the envy of the brute iit the youthful hero's superiority. As for Otto himself, he sat on the right hand of the chairman ; but it was remarked that he could not eat. Gentle reader of my page ! thou knowest why full well. He was too much in love to have any appetite ; for though I myself when laboring under that passion, never found my consumption of victuals diminish, yet remember our Otto was a hero of romance, and they never are hungry when, they're in love. The next day, the young gentleman proceeded to enrol him- self in the corps of Archers of the Prince of Cleves, and with him came liis attached squire, who vowed he never would leave him. As Otto threw aside his own elegant dress, and donned the livery of the House of Cleves, the noble Childe sighed not a little. 'Twas a splendid uniform 'tis true, but still it tvas a livery, and one of his proud spirit ill bears another's cogniz- ances. " They are the colors of the Princess, however," said he, consoling himself ; " and what suffering would I not under- go for her i " As for Wolfgang, the squire, it may well be sup- posed that the good-natured, low-born fellow had no such scruples ; but he was glad enough to exchange for the pink hose, the yellow jacket, the pea-green cloak, and orange-tawny hat, with which the Duke's steward supplied him, the homely patched doublet of green which he had worn for years past. " Look at yon two archers," said the Prince of Cleves to his guest the Rowski of Donnerblitz, as they were strolling on the battlements after dinner, smoking their cigars as usual. His Highness pointed to our two young friends, who were mounting guard for the first time. " See yon two bowmen — ■ mark their bearing ! One is the youth who beat thy Squintoff, and t'other, an I mistake not, won the third prize at the butts. Both wear the same uniform — the colors of my house — yet, would'st not swear that the one was but a churl, and the other a noble gentleman .-' " THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 251 " Which looks like the nobleman ? " said the Rowski, as black as thunder. " Which ? why, young Otto, to be sure," said the Princess Helen, eagerly. The young lady was following the pair ; but under pretence of disliking the odor of the cigar, she had re- fused the Rowski's proffered arm, and was loitering behind with her parasol. Her interposition in favor of her young protege only made the black and jealous Rowski more ill-humored. How long is it, Sir Prince of Cleves," said he, " that the churls who wear your livery permit themselves to wear the ornaments of noble knights ? Who but a noble dare wear ringlets such as yon springald's ? Ho, archer ! " roared he, " come hither, fellow." And Otto stood before him. As he came, and presenting arms stood respectfully before the Prince and his savage guest, he looked for one moment at the lovely Helen — their eyes met, their hearts beat simultaneously : and, quick, two little blushes appeared in the cheek of either. I have seen one ship at sea answering another's signal so. While they are so regarding each other, let us just remind our readers of the great estimation in which the hair was held in the North. Only nobles were permitted to wear it long. When a man disgraced himself, a shaving was sure to follow. Penalties were inflicted upon villains or vassals who sported ringlets. See the works of Aurelius Tonsor ; Hirsutus de Nobilitate Capillar! ; Rolandus de Oleo Macassari ; Schnurr- bart : Frisirische Alterthumskunde, &c. " We must have those ringlets of thine cut, good fellow," said the Duke of Cleves good-naturedly, but wishing to spare the feelings of his gallant recruit. " 'Tis against the regula- tion cut of my archer guard." " Cut off my hair ! " crid Otto, agonized. " Ay, and thine ears with it, yokel," roared Donnerblitz. " Peace, noble Eulenschrekenstein," said the Duke with di^rnitv : " let the Duke of Cleves deal as he will with his own men-at-arms. And you, young sir, unloose the grip of thy dagger." Otto, indeed, had convulsively grasped his snickersnee, with intent to plunge it into the heart of the Rowski ; but his politer feelings overcame him. " The count need not fear, my lord," said he : " a lady is present." And he took off his orange- tawny cap and bowed low. Ah ! what a pang shot through the heart of Helen, as she thought that those lovely ringlets must be shorn from that beautiful head ! 2^2 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. Otto's mind was, too, in commotion. His feelings as a gen- tleman — let us add, his pride as a man — for who is not, let us ask, proud of a good head of hair ? — waged war within his soul. He expostulated with the Prince. " It was never in my con- templation," he said, "on taking service, to undergo the oper- ation of hair-cutting." "Thou art free to go or stay. Sir Archer," said the Prince pettishly. " I will have no churls imitating noblemen in my service : I will bandy no conditions with Archers of my guard." "My resolve is taken," said Otto, irritated too in his turn. " I will * * * * " " What ? " cried Helen, breathless with intense agitation. " I will stay,'^ answered Otto. The poor girl almost fainted with joy. The Rowski frowned with demoniac fury, and grind- ing his teeth and cursing in the horrible German jargon, stalked away. " So be it," said the Prince of Cleves, taking his daugh- ter's arm — " and here comes Snipwitz, my barber, who shall do the business for you." With this the Prince.too moved on, feeling in his heart not a little comjDassion for the lad ; for Adolf of Cleves had been handsome in his youth, and dis- tinguished for the ornament of which he was now depriving his archer. Snipwitz led the poor boy into a side-room, and there — in a word — operated upon him. The golden curls — fair curls that his mother had so often played with ! — fell under the shears and round the lad's knees, until he looked as if he was sitting in a bath of sunbeams. When the frightful act had been performed. Otto, who en- tered the little chamber in the tower ringleted like Apollo, issued from it as cropped as a charity-boy. See how melancholy he looks, now that the operation is over ! — And no wonder. He was thinking what would be Helen's opinion of him, now that one of his chief personal or- naments was gone. " Will she know me .'' " thought he ; " will she love me after this hideous mutilation ? " Yielding to these gloomy thoughts, and, indeed, rather un- willing to be seen by his comrades, now that he was so dis- figured, the young gentleman had hidden himself behind one of the buttresses of the wall, a prey to natural despondency ; when he saw something which instantly restored him to good spirits. He saw the lovely Helen coming towards the chamber where the odious barber had performed upon him, — coming forward timidly, looking round her anxiously, blushing with delightful agitation, — and presently seeing, as slie thought, the coast THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 253 clear, she entered the apartment. She stooped down, and ah ! what was Otto's joy when he saw her pick up a beautiful golden lock of his hair, press it to her hps, and then hide it in her bosom ! No carnation ever blushed so redly as Helen did when she came out after performing this feat. Then she hur- ried straightway to her own apartments in the castle, and Otto, whose first impulse was to come out from his hiding-place, and, falling at her feet, call heaven and earth to witness to his pas- sion, with difHculty restrained his feelings and let her pass : but the love-stricken young hero was so delighted with this evident proof of reciprocated attachment, that all regret at losing his ringlets at once left him, and he vowed he would sacrifice not only his hair, but his head, if need were, to do her service. That very afternoon, no small bustle and conversation took place in the castle, on account of the sudden departure of the Rowski of Eulenschreckenstein, with all his train and equipage. He went away in the greatest wrath, it was said, after a long and loud conversation with the Prince. As that potentate con- ducted his guest to the gate, walking rather demurely and shamefacedly by his side, as he gathered his attendants in the court, and there mounted his charger, the Rowski ordered his trumpets to sound, and scornfully flung a largesse of gold among the servitors and men-at-arms of the House of Cleves, who were marshalled in the court. " Farewell, Sir Prince," said he to his host : " I quit you now suddenly ; but remember, it is not my last visit to the Castle of Cleves." And ordering his band to play " See the Conquering Hero comes," he clat- tered away through the drawbridge. The Princess Helen was not present at his departure ; and the venerable Prince of Cleves looked rather moody and chop-fallen when his guest left him. — He visited all the castle defences pretty accurately that night, and inquired of his officers the state of the ammunition, provisions, &:c. He said nothing ; but the Princess Helen's maid did : and everybody knew that the Rowski had made his proposals, had been rejected, and, getting up in a violent fury, had called on his people, and sworn by his great gods that he would not enter the castle again until he rode over the breech, lance in hand, the conqueror of Cleves and all belonging to it. No little consternation was spread through the garrison at the news : for everybody knew the Rowski to be one of the most intrepid and powerful soldiers in all Germany, — one of the most skilful generals. Generous to extravagance to his own followers, he was ruthless to the enemy: a hundred ctories 254 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. were told of the dreadful barbarities exercised by him in several towns and castles which he had captured and sacked. And poor Helen had the pain of thinking, that in consequence ol: her refusal she was dooming all the men, women, and children of the principality to indiscriminate and horrible slaughter. The dreadful surmises regarding a war received in a few days dreadful confirmation. It was noon, and the worthy Prince of Cleves was taking his dinner (though the honest warrior had had little appetite for that meal for some time past), when trumpets were heard at the gate ; and presently the herald of the Rowski of Donnerblitz, clad in a tabard on which the arms of the Count were blazoned, entered the dining-hall. A page bore a steel gauntlet on a cushion ; Bleu Sanglier had his hat on his head. The Prince of Cleves put on his own, as the herald came up to the chair of state where the sovereign sat. "Silence for Bleu Sanglier," cried the Prince, gravely. " Say your say, Sir Herald." " In the name of the high and mighty Rowski, Prince of Donnerblitz, Margrave of Eulenschreckenstein, Count of Kr5- tenwald, Schnauzestadt, and Galgenhiigel, Hereditary Grand Corkscrew of the Holy Roman Empire — to you, Adolf the Twenty-third, Prince of Cleves, I, Bleu Sanglier, .bring war and defiance. Alone, and lance to lance, or twenty to twenty in field or in fort, on plain or on mountain, the noble Rowski defies you. Here, or wherever he shall meet you, he proclaims war to the death between you and him. In token whereof here is his glove." And taking the steel glove from the page. Bleu Boar flung it clanging on the marble floor. The Princess Helen turned deadly pale : but the Prince, with a good assurance, flung down his own glove, calling upon some one to raise the Rowski's ; which Otto accordingly took up and presented to him, on his knee. " Boteler, fill my goblet," said the Prince to that functionary, who, clothed in tight black hose, with a white kerchief, and a napkin on his dexter arm, stood obsequiously by his master's chair. The goblet was filled with Malvoisie : it held about three quarts ; a precious golden hanap carved by the cunning artificer, Benvenuto the Florentine. "Drink, Bleu Sanglier," said the Prince, " and put the gob- let in thy bosom. Wear this chain, furthermore, for my sake." And so saying, Prince Adolf flung a precious chain of emeralds round the herald's neck. " An invitation to battle was ever a wtlconie call to Adolf of Cleves." So saying, and bidding his THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 255 people take good care of Bleu Sanglier's retinue, the Prince left the hall with his daughter. All were marvelling at his dignity, courage, and generosity. But, though affecting unconcern, the mind of Prince Adolf was far from tranquil. He was no longer the stalwart knight who, in the reign of Stanislaus Augustus, had, with his naked list, beaten a lion to death in three minutes ; and alone had kept the postern of Peterwaradin for two hours against seven hundred Turkish janissaries, who were assailing it. Those deeds which had made the heir of Cleves famous were done thirty years syne. A free liver since he had come into his principality, and of a lazy turn, he had neglected the athletic exercises which had made him in youth so famous a: champion, and indolence had borne its usual fruits. He tried his old battle-sword — that famous blade with which, in Palestine, he had cut an elephant-driver in two pieces, and split asunder the skull of the elephant which he 'rode. Adolf of Cleves could scarcely now lift the weapon over his head. He tried his armor. It was too tight for him. And the old soldier burst into tears, when he found he could not buckle it. Such a man was not fit to encounter the terrible Rowski in single combat. Nor could he hope to make head against him for any time m the field. The Prince's territories were small ; his vassals proverbially lazy and peaceable ; his treasury empty. The dismallest prospects were before him : and he passed a sleep- less night writing to his friends for succor, and calculating with his secretary the small amount of the resources which he could bring to aid him against his advancing and powerful enemy. Helen's pillow that evening was also unvisited by slumber. She lay awake thinking of Otto, — thinking of the danger and the ruin her refusal to marry had brought upon her dear pajDa. Otto, too, slept not : but his waking thoughts were brilliant and heroic : the noble Childe thought how he should defend the princess, and win los and honor in the ensuing combat. 256 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE, Chapter XII. THE CHAMPION. And now the noble Cleves began in good earnest toprepaie his castle for the threatened siege. He gathered in all the available cattle round the property, and the pigs round many miles ; and a dreadful slaughter of horned and snouted animals took place, — the whole castle resounding with the lowing of the oxen and the squeaks of the gruntlings, destined to provide food for the garrison. These, when slain, (her gentle spirit, of course, would not allow of her witnessing that disagreeable operation,) the lovely Helen, with the assistance of her maidens, carefully salted and pickled. • Corn was brought in in great quantities, the Prince paying for the same when he had money, giving bills when he could get credit, or occasionally, marry, send- ing out a few stout men-at-arms to forage, who brought in wheat without money or credit either. The charming Princess, amidst the intervals of her labors, went about encouraging the gar- rison, who vowed to a man they would die for a single sweet smile of hers ; and in order to make their inevitable sufferings as easy as possible to the gallant fellows, she and the apothe- caries got ready a plenty of efficacious simples, and scraped a vast quantity of lint to bind their warriors' wounds uiihal. All the fortifications were strengthened ; the fosses carefully filled with spikes and water ; large stones placed over the gates, convenient to tumble on the heads of the assaulting parties ; and cauldrons prepared, with furnaces to melt up pitch, brim- stone, boiling oil, &c., wherewith hospitably to receive them. Having the keenest eye in the whole garrison, young Otto was placed on the topmost tower, to watch for the expected coming of the beleaguering host. They were seen only too soon. Long ranks of shining spears were seen glittering in the distance, and the army of the Rowski soon made its appearance in battle's magnificently stern array. The tents of the renowned chief and his numerous war- riors were pitched out of arrow shot of the castle, but in fearful proximity ; and when his army had taken up its position, an officer with a flag of truce and a trumpet was seen advancing to the castle gate. Tt was the same herald who had previously borne his makers defiance to the Prince of Cleves. He came THE champion: 257 once more to the castle gate, and there proclaimed that the noble Count of Eulenschreckenstein was in arms without, ready to da battle with the Prince of Cleves, or his chami^ion ; that he would remain in arms for three days, ready for combat. If no man met him at the end of that period, he would deliver an as- sault, and would give quarter to no single soul in the garrison. So saying, the herald nailed his lord's gauntlet on the castle gate. As before, the Prince flung him over another glove from the wall ; though how he was to defend himself from such a Warrior, or get a champion, or resist the pitiless assault that must follow, the troubled old nobleman knew not in the least. The Princess Helen passed the night in the chapel, vowing tons of wax-candles to all the patron saints of the House of Cleves, if they would raise her up a defender. But how did the noble girl's heart sink — how were her notions of the purity of man shaken within her gentle bosom, by the dread intelli2:ence which reached her the next mornina:, after the defiance of the Rowski ! At roll-call it was discovered that he on whom she principally relied — he whom her fond heart had singled out as her champion, had proved faithless I Otto, the degenerate Otto, had fled ! His comrade, Wolfgang, had gone with him. A rope was found dangling from the casement of their chamber, and they must have swuni the moat and passed over to the enemy in the darkness of the previous night. " A pretty lad was this fair-spoken archer of thine ! " said the Prince her father to her; "and a pretty kettle offish hast thou cooked for the fondest of fathers." She retired weeping to her apartment. Never before had tliat young heart felt so wretched. That morning, at nine o'clock, as they were going to break- fast, the Rowski's trumpets sounded. Clad in complete armor, and mounted on his enormous piebald charger, he came out of his pavilion, and rode slowly up and down in front of the castle. He was ready there to meet a champion. Three times each day did the odious trumpet sound the same notes of defiance. Thrice daily did the steel-clad Rowski come forth challenging the combat. The first day passed, and there was no answer to his summons. The second day came and went, but no champion had risen to defend. The taunt of his shrill clarion remained without answer, and the sun went down upon the wretchedest father and daughter in all the land of Christendom. The trumpets sounded an hour after sunrise, an hour after noon, and an hour before sunset. The third day came, but 2S8 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. with it brought no hope. The first and second summons met no response. At five o'clock the old Prince called his daughter and blessed her. " I go to meet this Rowski," said he. " It may be we shall meet no more, my Helen — my child — the in- nocent cause of all this grief. If I shall fall to-night the Rowski's victim, 'twill be that life is nothing without honor." And so saying, he put into her hands a dagger, and bade her sheathe it in her own breast so soon as the terrible champion had carried the castle by storm. This Helen most faithfully promised to do ; and her aged father retired to his armory, and donned his ancient war- worn-corselet. It had borne the shock of a thousand lances ere this, but it was now so tight as almost to choke the knightly wearer. The last trumpet sounded — tantara ! tantara ! — its shrill call rang over the wide plains, and the wide plains gave back no answer. Again ! — but when its notes died away, there was only a mournful, an awful silence. " Farewell, my child," said the Prince, bulkily lifting himself into his battle-saddle. " Re- member the dagger. Hark ! the trumpet sounds for the third time. Open, warders ! Sound, trumpeters ! and good St. Ben- digo guard the right." Ikit Puffendorff, the trumpeter, had not leisure to lift the trumpet to his lips : when, hark ! from without there came another note of another clarion ! — a distant note at first, then swelling fuller. Presently, in brilliant variations, the full rich notes of the " Huntsman's Chorus " came clearly over the breeze ; and a thousand voices of the crowd gazing over the gate exclaimed, " A champion ! a champion 1 " And, indeed, a champion had come. Issuing from the forest came a knight and squire : the knight gracefully cantering an elegant cream-colored Arabian of prodigious power — the squire mounted on an unpretending gray cob ; which, never- theless, was an animal of considerable strength and sinew. It was the squire who blew the trumpet, through the bars of his helmet ; the knight's visor was completely down. A small prince's coronet of gold, from which rose three pink ostrich- feathers, marked the warrior's rank: his blank shield bore no cognizance. As gracefully poising his lance he rode into the green space where tlie Rowski's tents were pitched, the hearts of all present beat with anxiety, anJ the poor Prince of Cleves, especially, had considerable doubts about his new champion. " So slim a figure as that can never compete with Donnerblitz," said he, moodily, to his daughter \ " but whoever he be, the THE CHAMPION. 259 fellow puts a good face on it, and rides like a man. See, he has touched the Rowski's shield with the point of his lance ! By St. Bendigo, a perilous venture ! " The unknown knight had indeed defied the Rowski to the death, as the Prince of Cleves remarked from the battlement where he and his daughter stood to witness the combat ; and so, having defied his enemy, the Incognito galloped round under the castle wall, bowing elegantly to the lovely Princess there, and then took his ground and waited for the foe. His armor blazed in the sunshine as he sat there, motionless, on his cream- colored steed. He looked like one of those fairy knights one has read of — one of those celestial champions who decided so many victories before the invention of gunpowder. The Rowski's horse was speedily brought to the door of his pavilion ; and that redoubted warrior, blazing in a suit of mag^ nificent brass armor, clattered into his saddle. Long waves of blood-red feathers bristled over his helmet, which was farther ornamented by two huge horns of the aurochs. His lance was painted white and red, and he whirled the prodigicui beam in the air and cauglit it with savage glee. He laughed when he saw the slim form of his antagonist ; and his soul rejoiced to meet the coming battle. He dug his spurs into the enormous horse he rode : the enormous horse snorted, and squealed, too, with fierce pleasure. He jerked and curvetted him with a brutal playfulness, and after a few minutes' turning and wheel- ing, during which everybody had leisure to admire the perfec- tion of his equitation, he cantered round to a point exactly opposite his enemy, and pulled up his impatient chager. The old Prince on the battlement was so eager for the com- bat that he seemed quite to forget the danger which menaced himself, should his slim champion be discomfited by the tremen- dous Knight of Donnerblitz. " Go it ! " said he, flinging his truncheon into the ditch; and at the word, the two warriors rushed with whirling rapidity at each other. And now ensued a combat so terrible, that a weak female hand, like that of her who pens this tale of chivalry, can never hope to do justice to the terrific theme. You have seen two engines on the Great Western line rush past each other with a pealing scream ? So rapidly did the two warriors gallop towards one another ; the feathers of either streamed yards behind their backs as they converged. Their shock as they met was as that of two cannon-balls ; the mighty horses trembled and reeled with the concussion ; the lance aimed at the Rowski's helmet bore off the coronet, the horns, the helmet itself, and hurled i6o A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. them to an incredible distance : a piece of the Rowski's left ear was carried off on the point of the nameless warrior's weapon. How had he fared ? His adversarj-'s weapon had glanced harmless along the blank surface of his polished buck- ler ; and the victory so far was with him. The expression of the Rowski's face, as, bareheaded, he glared on his enemy with fierce bloodshot eyeballs, was one worthy of a demon. The imprecatory expressions which he made use of can never be copied by a feminine pen. His opponent magnanimously declined to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered him of finishing the combat by splitting his opponent's skull with his curtal-axe, and, riding back to his starting-place, bent his lance's point to the ground, in token that he would wait until the Count of Eulenschrecken- stein was helmeted afresh. " Blessed Bendigo ! " cried the Prince, " thou art a gallant lance ; but why didst not rap the Schelm's brain out.'' " " Bring me a fresh helmet ! " yelled the Rowski. Another casque was brought to him by his trembling squire. As soon as he had braced it, he drew his great flashing sword from his side, and rushed at his enemy, roaring hoarsely his cry of battle. The unknown knight's sword was unsheathed in a moment, and at the next the two blades were clanking to- gether the dreadful music of the combat ! The Donnerblitz wielded his with his usual savageness and activity. It whirled round his adversary's head with frightful rapidity. Now it carried away a feather of his plume ; now it shore off a leaf of his coronet. The flail of the thrasher does not fall more swiftly upon the corn. For many minutes it was the Unknown's only task to defend himself from the tremendous activity of the enemy. But even the Rowski's strength would slacken after exer- tion. The blows began to fall less thick anon, and the point of the unknown knight began to make dreadful play. It found and penetrated ever}' joint of the Donnerblitz's armor. Now it nicked him in the shoulder, where the vambrace was buckled to the corselet ; now it bored a shrewd hole under the light brassart, and blood followed ; now with fatal dexterity, it darted through the visor, and came back to the recover deeply tinged with blood. A scream of rage followed the last thrust ; and no wonder : — it had penetrated the Rowski's left eye. His blood was trickling through a dozen orifices ; he was almost choking in his helmet with loss of breath, and loss of blood, and rage. Gasping with fury, he drew back his horse, THE MARRIAGE. 261 flung, his great sword at his opponent's head, and once mora plunged at him, wielding his curtal-axe. Then you should have seen the unknown knight employing the same dreadful weapon ! Hitherto he had been on his de- fence : now he began the attack ; and the gleaming axe whirred in his hand like a reed, but descended like a thunderbolt ! " Yield ! yield ! Sir Rowski," shouted he, in a calm, clear voice. A blow dealt madly at his head was the reply. 'Twas the last blow that the Count of Eulenschreckenstein ever struck in battle ! The curse was on his lips as the crushing steel descended into his brain, and split it in two. He rolled like a log froni his horse : his enemy's knee was in a moment on his chest, and the dagger of mercy at his throat, as the knight once more called upon him to yield. But there was no answer from within the helmet. When it was withdrawn, the teeth were crunched together ; the mouth that should have spoken, grinned a ghastly silence : one eye still glared with hate and fury, but it was glazed with the film of death ! The red orb of the sun was just then dipping into the Rhine. The unknown knight, vaulting once more into his sad- dle, made a graceful obeisance to the Prince of Cleves and his daughter, without a word, and galloped back into the forest, whence he had issued an hour before sunset. Chapter XHI. the marriage, The consternation which ensued on the death of the Row- ski, speedily sent all his camp-followers, army, &c,, to the right- about. They struck their tents at the first news of his dis- comfiture ; and each man laying hold of what he could, the whole of the gallant force which had marched under his banner in the morning had disappeared ere the sun rose. On that night, as it may be imagined, the gates of the Castle of Cleves were not shut. Everybody was free to come in. Wine-butts were broached in all the courts ; the pickled meat Orepared in such lots for the siege was distributed among the 262 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. people, who crowded to congratulate their beloved sovereign on his victory ; and the Prince, as was customary with that good man, who never lost an opportunity of giving a dinner- party, had a splendid entertainment made ready for the upper classes, the whole concluding with a tasteful display of fire- works. In the midst of these entertainments, our old friend the Count of Hombourg arrived at the castle. The stalwart old warrior swore by Saint Bugo that he was grieved the killing of the Rowski had been taken out of his hand. The laughing Cleves vowed by Saint Bendigo, Hombourg could never have finished off his enemy so satisfactorily as the unknown knight had just done. But who was he 1 was the question which now agitated the bosom of these two old nobles. How to find him — how to re- ward the champion and restorer of the honor and happiness of Cleves .'' They agreed over supper that he should be sought for everywhere. Beadles were sent round the principal cities within fifty miles, and the description of the knight advertised in the yournal dc Fra?ufort and the Allgemeine Zeitung. The hand of the Princess Helen was solemnly offered to him in these advertisements, with the reversion of the Prince of Cleves' splendid though somewhat dilapidated property. " But we don't know him, my dear papa," faintly ejaculated that young lady. " Some impostor may come in a suit of plain armor, and pretend that he was the champion who overcame the Rowski (a prince who had his faults certainly, but whose attachment for me I can never forget) ; and how are you to say whether he is the real knight or not .'' There are so many de- ceivers in this world," added the Princess, in tears, " that one can't be too cautious now." The fact is, that she was thinking of the desertion of Otto in the morning ; by which instance of faithlessness her heart was wellnigh broken. As for that youth and his comrade Wolfgang, to the aston- ishment of everybody at their impudence, they came to the archers' mess that night, as if nothing had happened ; got their supper, partaking both of meat and drink most plentifully ; fell asleep when their comrades began to describe the events of the day, and the admirable achievements of the unknown war- rior ; and, turning into their hammocks, did not appear on parade in the morning until twenty minutes after the names were called. When the Prince of Cleves heard of the return of these deserters he was in a towering passion. " Where were you, THE MARRIAGE. 363 fellows," shouted he, " during the tniie my castle was at its utmost need ? " Otto replied, " We were out on particular business." " Does a soldier leave his post on the day of battle, sir ? " exclaimed the Prince. " You know the reward of such — Death ! and death you merit. But you are a soldier only of yesterday, and yesterday's victory has made me merciful. Hanged you shall not be, as you merit — only flogged, both of you. Parade the men. Colonel Tickelstern, after breakfast, and give these scoundrels five hundred apiece." You should have seen how young Otto bounded, when this information was thus abruptly conveyed to him. " Flog me !^^ cried he. " Flog Otto of " " Not so, my father," said the Princess Helen, who had been standing by during the conversation, and who had looked at Otto all the while with the most ineffable scorh. " Not so : although these persons have forgotten their duty " (she laid a particularly sarcastic emphasis on the word persons), "we have had no need of their services, and have luckily found others more faithful. You promised your daughter a boon, papa ; it is the pardon of these two persons. Let them go, and quit a service they have disgraced j a mistress — that is, a master — • they have deceived." " Drum 'em out of the castle, Tickelstern ; strip their uni- forms from their backs, and never let me hear of the scoundrels again." So saying, the old Prince angrily turned on his heels to breakfast, leaving the two young men to the fun and derision of their surrounding comrades. The noble Count of Hombourg, who was taking his usual airing on the ramparts before breakfast, came up at this junc- ture, and asked what was the row ? Otto blushed when he saw him, and turned away rapidly ; but the Count, too, catching a glimpse of him, with a hundred exclamations of joyful sur- prise seized upon the lad, hugged him to his manly breast, kissed him most affectionately, and almost burst into tears as he embraced him. For, in sooth, the good Count had thought his godson long ere this at the bottom of the silver Rhine. The Prince of Cleves, who had come to the breakfast-parloi window, (to invite his guest to enter, as the tea was made,) be- held this strange scene from the window, as did the lovely tea-maker likewise, with breathless and beautiful agitation. The old Count and the archer strolled up and down the battle- ments in deep conversation, By the gestures of surpiise and delight exhibited by the former, 'twas easy to see the young 264 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE. archer was conveying some very strange and pleasing news to liim ; though the nature of the conversation was not allowed to transpire. " A godson of mine," said the noble Count, when interro- gated over his muffins. " I know his family ; worthy people ; sad scapegrace ; ran away ; parents longing for him ; glad you did not flog him ; devil to pay," and so forth. The Count was a man of few words, and told his tale in this brief, artless man- ner. But why, at its conclusion, did the gentle Helen leave the room, her eyes filled with tears .-* She left the room once more to kiss a certain lock of yellow hair she had pilfered. A dazzling, delicious thought, a strange wild hope, arose in her soul ! When she appeared again, she made some side-handed in- quiries regarding Otto (with that gentle artifice oft employed by- women) ; but he was gone. He and his companion were gone. The Count of Hombourg had likewise taken his departure, under pretext of particular business. How lonely the vast castle seemed to Helen, now that he was no longer there. The transactions of the last few days ; the beautiful archer-boy ; the offer from the Rowski (always an event in a young lady's life) ; the siege of the castle ; the death of her truculent admirer : all seemed like a fevered dream to her : all was passed away, and had left no trace behind. No trace ? — yes ! one : a little in- significant lock of golden hair, over which the young creature wept so much that she put it out of curl ; passing hours and hours in the summer-house, where the operation had been per- formed. On the second day (it is my belief she would have gone into a consumption and died of languor, if the event had been delayed a day longer,) a messenger, with a trumpet, brought a letter in haste to the Prince of Cleves, who was, as usual, taking refresh- ment. " To the High and Mighty Prince," &c., the letter ran. "The Champion who had the honor of engaging on Wednesday last with his late BLxcellency the Rowski of Donnerblitz, presents his compliments to H. S. H. the Prince of Cleves. Through the medium of the public prints the C. has been made acquainted with the flattering proposal of His Serene Highness relative to a union between himself (the Champion) and Her Serene High- ness the Princess Helen of Cleves. The Champion accepts with pleasure that polite invitation, and will have the honor of waiting upon the Prince and Princess of Cleves about half an hour after the receipt of this letter." " Tol lol de rol, girl," shouted the Prince with heartfelt joy. THE MARRIAGE. 263 (Have you not remarked, dear friend, how often in novel-books and on the stage, joy is announced by the above burst of insen- sate monosyllables ?) '• Tol lol de rol. Don thy best kirtle, child; thy husband will be here anon." And Helen retired to arrange her toilet for this awful event in the life of a young woman. When she returned, attired to welcome her defender, her young cheek was as pale as the white satin slip and orange iprigs she wore. She was scarce seated on the dais by her father's side, when a huge flourish of trumpets from without proclaimed the arrival of the Champion. Helen felt quite sick : a draught of ether was necessary to restore her tranquillity. The great door was flung open. He entered, — the same tall warrior, slim, and beautiful, blazing in shining steel. He approached the Prince's throne, supported on each side by a friend likewise in armor. He knelt gracefully on one knee. " I come," said he, in a voice trembling with emotion, "to, claim, as per advertisement, the hand of the lovely Helen." And he held out a copy of the AUgemcine Zeitiing as he spoke. " Art thou noble. Sir Knight ? " inquired the Prince of Cleves. " As noble as yourself," answered the kneeling steel. " Who answers for thee } " " I, Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, his father ! " said the knight on the right hand, lifting up his visor. " And I — Ludwig, Count of Hombourg, his godfather ! " said the knight on the left, doing likewise. The kneeling knight lifted up his visor now, and looked on Helen. " I knew it zuas,''^ said she, and fainted as she saw Otto the Archer. But she was soon brought to, gentles, as I have small need to tell ye. In a very few days after, a great marriage took place at Cleves, under the patronage of Saint Bugo, Saint Buffo, and Saint Bendigo. After the marriage ceremony, the happiest and handsomest pair in the world drove off in a chaise-and-four, to pass the honeymoon at Kissingen. The Lady Theodora, whom we left locked up in her convent a long while since, was pre- vailed upon to come to Godesberg, where she was reconciled to her husband. Jealous of her daughter-in-law, she idolized her son, and spoiled all her little grandchildren. And so all are happy, and my simple tale is done. I read it in an old, old book, in a mouldy old circulating library. 'Twas written in the French tongue, by the noble 266 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. Alexandre Dumas ; but 'tis probable that he stole it from some other, and that the other had filched it from a former tale-telier. ¥ox nothing is new under the sun. Things die and are repro- duced only. And so it is that the forgotten tale of the great Dumas reappears under the signature of Theresa MacWhirter. WhistUbinMe^ N. B., December I. REBECCA AND ROWENA. A ROMANCE UPON ROMANCE. REBECCA AND ROWENA. A ROMANCE UPON ROMANCE. CHAPTER I. THE OVERTURE. — COMMENCEMENT OF THE BUSINESS. Well-beloved novel-readers and gentle patronesses of ro- mance, assuredly it has often occurred to every one of you, that the books we delight in have unsatisfactory conclusions, and end quite prematurely with page 320 of the third volume. At that epoch of the history it is well known that the hero is sel- dom more than thirty years old, and the heroine by consequence some seven or eight years younger ; and I would ask any of you whether it is fair to suppose that people after the above age have nothing worthy of note in their lives, and cease to exist as they drive away from Saint George's, Hanover Square ? You, dear young ladies, who get your knowledge of life from the cir- culating library, may be led to imagine that when the marriage business is done, and Emilia is whisked off in the new travel- ling-carriage, by the side of the enraptured Earl ; or Belinda, breaking away from the tearful embraces of her excellent mother, dries her own lovely eyes upon the throbbing waistcoat of her bridegroom — you may be apt, I say, to suppose that all is over then; that Emilia and the Earl'are going to be happy for the rest of their lives in his lordship's romantic castle in the North, and Belinda and her young clergyman to enjoy uninter- rupted bliss in their rose-trellised parsonage in the West of England : but some there be among the novel-reading classes — old experienced folks — who know better than this. Some there be who have been married, and found that they have still U69) 270 REBECCA AND ROWENA. something to see and to do, and to suffer mayhap ; and that adventures, and pains, and pleasures, and taxes, and sunrises and setting, and the business and joys and griefs of life go on after, as before the nuptial ceremony. Therefore I say, it is an unfair advantage which the novelist takes of hero and heroine, as of his inexperienced reader, to say good-by to the two former, as' soon as ever they are made husband and wife ; and I have often wished that additions should be made to all works of fiction which have been brought to abrupt terminations in the manner described ; and that we should hear what occurs to the sober married man, as well as to the ardent bachelor ; to the matron, as well as to the blush- ing spinster. And in this respect I admire (and would desire to imitate) the noble and prolific French author, Alexandre Dumas, who carries his heroes from early youth down to the most venerable old age ; and does not let them rest until they are so old, that it is full time the poor fellows should get a little peace and quiet. A hero is much too valuable a gentle- man to be put upon the retired list, in the prime and vigor of his youth ; and I wish to know what lady among us would like to be put on the shelf, and thought no longer interesting, be^ cause she has a family growing up, and is four or five and thirty years of age ? I have known ladies at sixty, with hearts as tender and ideas as romantic as any young misses of sixteen. Let us have middle-aged novels then, as well as your extremely juvenile legends : let the young ones be warned that the old folks have a right to be interesting : and that a lady may con- tinue to have a heart, although she is somewhat stouter than she was when a school-girl, and a man his feelings, although he gets his hair from Truefitt's. Thus I would desire that the biographies of many of our most illustrious personages of romance should be continued by fitting hands, and that they should be heard of, until at least a decent age. — Look at Mr. James's heroes : they invari- ably marry young. Look at Mr. Dickens's : they disappear from the scene when they are mere chits. I trust these authors, who are still alive, will see the propriety of telling us something more about people in whom we took a considerable interest, and who must be at present strong and hearty, and in the full vigor of health and intellect. And in the tales of the great Sir Walter (may honor be to his name), I am sure there are a number of people who are untimely carried away from us, and of whom we ought to hear more. My dear Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, has always, THE OVERTURE. 271 in my mind, been one of these ; nor can I ever believe that such a woman, so admirable, so tender, so heroic, so beautiful, could disappear altogether before such another woman as Ro- wena, that vapid, flaxen-headed creature, who is, in my humble opinion, unworthy of Ivanhoe, and unworthy of her place as heroine. Had both of them got their rights, it ever seemed to me that Rebecca would have had the husband, and Rowena would have gone off to a convent and shut herself up, where I, for one, would never have taken the trouble of inquiring fcr her. But after all she married Ivanhoe. What is to be done ? There is no help for it. There it is in black and white at the end of the third volume of Sir Walter Scott's chronicle, that the couple were joined together in matrimony. And must the Disinherited Knight, whose blood has been fired by the suns of Palestine, and whose heart has been warmed in the company of the tender and beautiful Rebecca, sit down contented for life by the side of such a frigid piece of propriety as that icy, faultless, prim, niminy-piminy Rowena ? Forbid it fate, forbid it poetical justice ! There is a simple plan for setting matters right, and giving all parties their due, which is here submitted to the novel-reader, Ivanhoe's history must have had a con- tinuation ; and it is this which ensues. I may be wrong in some particulars of the narrative, — as what writer will not be ? — but of the main incidents of the history, I have in my own mind no sort of doubt, and confidently submit them to that generous public which likes to see virtue righted, true love re- warded, and the brilliant Fairy descend out of the blazing chariot at the end of the pantomime, and make Harlequin and Columbine happy. What, if reality be not so, gentlemen and ladies ; and if, after dancing a variety of jigs and antics, and jumping in and out of endless trap-doors and windows, through life's shifting scenes, no fairy comes down to make us comfort- able at the close of the performance ? Ah ! let us give our honest novel-folks the benefit of their position, and not be en- vious of their good luck. No person who has read the preceding volumes of this history, as the famous chronicler of Abbotsford has recorded them, can doubt for a moment what was the result of the marriage between Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe and Lady Rowena. Those who have marked her conduct during her maidenhood, her distinguished politeness, her spotless modesty of demeanor, her unalterable coolness under all circumstances, and her lofty and gentleworaanlike bearing, must be sure that her married 2^2 REBECCA AND ROWENA. conduct would equal her spinster behavior, and that Rowena the wife would be a pattern of correctness for all the matrons of England. Such was the fact. For miles around Rotherwood her character for piety was known. Her castle was a rendezvous for all the clergy and monks of the district, whom she fed with the richest viands, while she pinched herself upon pulse and water. There was not an invalid in the three Ridings, Saxon or Norman, but the palfrey of the Lady Rowena might be seen journeying to his door, in company with Father Glauber, her almoner, and Brother Thomas of Epsom, her leech. She lighted up all the churches in Yorkshire with wax-candles, the offerings of her piety. The bells of her chapel began to ring at two o'clock in the morning ; and all the domestics of Rother- wood were called upon to attend at matins, at complins, at nones, at vespers, and at sermon. I need not say that fasting was observed with all the rigors of the Church ; and that those of the servants of the Lady Rowena were looked upon with most favor whose hair-shirts were the roughest, and who flagel- lated themselves with the most becoming perseverance. Whether it was that this discipline cleared poor Wamba's wits or cooled his humor, it is certain that he became the most melancholy fool in England, and if ever he ventured upon a pun to the' shuddering poor servitors, who were mumbling their dry crusts below the salt, it was such a faint and stale joke that nobody dared to laugh at the inuendoes of the unfortunate wag, and a sickly smile was the best applause he could muster. Once, indeed, when Guffo, the gooseboy (a half-witted poor wretch), laughed outright at a lamentably stale pun which Wamba palmed upon him at supper-time, (it was dark, and the torches being brought in, Wamba said, " Guffo, they can't see their way in the argument, and are going to throw a Viitle light upon the. subject,'') the Lady Rowena, being disturbed in a theological controversy with Father Willibald, (afterwards can- onized as St. Willibald, of Bareacres, hermit and confessor,) called out to know what was the cause of the unseemly inter- ruption, and Guffo and Wamba being pointed out as the cul- prits, ordered them straightway into the court-yard, and three dozen to be administered to each of them. " I got you out of Front-de-Bceuf's castle," said poor Wamba, piteously, appealing to Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, " and canst thou not save me from the lash 1 " " Yes, from Front-de-Bceuf's castle, where you were locked up with the Jewess in the tower T' said Rowena, haughtily reply- THE OVERTURR. 273 ing to the timid appeal of her husband. " Gurth, give him foui dozen ! " And this was all poor Wamba got by applying for tlie mediation of his master. In fact, Rovvena knew her own dignity so well as a princess of the royal blood of England, that Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, her consort, could scarcely call his life his own, and was made, in all things, to feel the inferiority of his station. And which of us is there acquainted with the sex that has not remarked this propensity in lovely woman, and how often the wisest in the council are made to be as fools at her board, and the boldest in the battle-field are craven when facing her distaff? " IV lure you were lock-ed up wii/i the yezvess in the tower," was a remark, too, of which Wilfrid keenly felt, and perhaps the reader will understand, the significancy. When the daugh- ter of Isaac of York brought her diamonds and rubies — the poor, gentle victim ! — and, meekly laying them at the feet of the conquering Rowena, departed into foreign lands to tend the sick of her people, and to brood over the bootless passion which consumed her own pure heart, one would have thought that the heart of the royal lady wonld have melted before such beauty and humility, and that she would have been generous in the moment of her victory. * ^ But did you ever know a right-minded woman pardon an- other for being handsome and more love-worthy than herself .? The Lady Rowena did certainly say with mighty magnanimity to the Jewish maiden, " Come and live with me as a sister," as the former part of this history shows ; but Rebecca knew in her heart that her ladyship's proposition was what is called Iwsh (in that noble Eastern language with which Wilfrid the Crusader was familiar), or fudge, in plain Saxon ; and retired with a broken, gentle spirit, neither able to bear the sight of her rival's happiness, nor willing to disturb it by tl>e contrast to her own wretchedness. Rowena,.. like the most high-bred and virtuous of women, never forgave Isaac's daughter her beauty, nor her flirtation with Wilfrid (as the Saxon lady chose to term it) ; nor, above all, her admirable diamonds and jewels, although Rowena was actually in possession of them. In a word, she was always flinging Rebecca into Ivanhoe's teeth. There was not a day in his life but that unhappy warrior was made to remember that a Hebrew damsel had been in love with him, and that a Christian lady of fashion could never for- give the insult. For instance, if Gurth, the swineherd, wlio was now promoted to be a gamekeeper and verderer, brought the 274 REBECCA AND ROWENA. account of a famous wild-boar in the wood, and proposed a hunt, Rowena would say, " Do, Sir Wilfrid, persecute these poor pigs : you know your friends the Jews can't abide them ! " Or when, as it oft would happen, our lion-hearted monarch, Richard, in order to get a loan or a benevolence from the Jews, would roast a few of the Hebrew capitalists, or extract some of the principal rabbis' teeth, Rowena would exult and say, " Serve them right, the misbelieving wretches ! England can never be a happy country until every one of these monsters is extermi- nated ! " — or else, adopting a strain of still more savage sar- casm, would exclaim, " Ivanhoe my dear, more persecution for the Jews! Hadn't you better interfere, my love? His Majesty will do anything for you ; and, you know, the Jews were ahvays such favorites of yours" or words to that effect. But, neverthe- less, her ladyship never lost an opportunity of wearing Re- becca's jewels at court, whenever the Queen held a drawing- room; or at the York assizes and ball, when she appeared there : not of course because she took any interest in such things, but because she considered it her duty to attend, as one of the chief ladies of the county. Thus Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, having attained the height of his wishes, was, like many a man when he has reached that dangerous elevation, disappointed. Ah, dear friends, it is but too often so in life ! Many a garden, seen from a distance, looks fresh and green, which, when beheld closely, is dismal and weedy ; the shady walks melancholy and grass-grown ; the bowers you would fain repose in, cushioned with stinging-nettles. I have ridden in a caique upon the waters of the Bosphorus, and looked upon the capital of the Soldan of Turkey. As seen from those blue waters, Avith palace and pinnacle, with gilded dome and towering cypress, it seemeth a very Paradise ol Mahound : but, enter the city, and it is but a beggarly labyrinth of rickety huts and dirty alleys, where the ways are steep and the smells are foul, tenanted by mangy dogs and ragged beggars — a dismal illusion ! Life is such, ah, well-a-day ! It is only hope which is real, and reality is a bitterness and a deceit. Perhaps a man with Ivanhoe's high principles would never bring himself to acknowledge this fact ; but others did for him. He grew thin, and pined away as much as if he had been in a fever under the scorching sun of Ascalon. He had no appetite for his meals ; he slept ill, though he was yawning all day. The jangling of the doctors and friars whom Rowena brought to- gether did not in the least enliven him, and lie would sometimes give proofs of somnolency during their disputes, greatly to the THE OVERTURE. 275 consternation of his lady. He hunted a good deal, and, I very much fear, as Rowena rightly remarked, that he might have an excuse for being absent from home. He began to like wine, too, who had been as sober as a hermit ; and when he came back from Athelstane's (whither he would repair not unfre- quently), the unsteadiness of his gait and the unnatural brib liancy of his eye were remarked by his lady : who, you may be sure, was sitting up for him. As for Athelstane, he swore by St. W'ullstan that he was glad to have escaped a marriage with such a pattern of propriety ; and honest Cedric the Saxon (who had been very speedily driven out of his daughter-in-law's castle) vowed by St. Waltheof that his son had bought a dear bargain. So Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe became almost as tired of England as his royal master Richard was, (who always quitted the coun- try when he had squeezed from his royal nobles, commons, clergy, and Jews, all the money which he could get,) and when the lion-hearted Prince began to make war against the French King, in Normandy and Guienne, Sir Wilfrid pined like a true servant to be in company of the good champion, alongside of whom he had shivered so many lances, and dealt such woundy blows of sword and battle-axe on the plains of Jaffa or the breaches of Acre. Travellers were welcome at Rotherwood that brought news from the camp of the good King: and I warrant me that the knight listened with all his might when Father Drono, the chaplain, read in the .5"/. jfames's Chrouykyll (which was the paper of news he of Ivanhoe took in) of " another glorious triumph "— " Defeat of the French near Blois "— " Splendid victory at Epte, and narrow escape of the French King:" the which deeds of arms the learned scribes had to narrate. However such tales might excite him during the reading, they left the Knight of Ivanhoe only the more melancholy after listening: and the more moody as he sat in his great hall silently draining his Gascony wine. Silently sat he and looked at his coats-of-mail hanging vacant on the wall, his banner covered with spider-webs, and his sword and axe rusting there. "Ah, dear axe," sighed he (into his drinking horn) — "ah, gen- tle steel ! that was a merry time when I sent thee crashing into the pate of the Emir Abdul Melik as he rode on the right of Saladin, Ah, my sword, my dainty headsman ! my sweet split- rib ! my razor of infidel beards ! is the rust to eat thine edge ofif, and am I never more to wield thee in battle 1 Whrft is the use of a shield on a wall, or a lance that has a cobweb for a pennon ? 276 REBECCA AND ROWENA. O Richard, my good king, would I could hear once more thy voice in the front of the onset ! Bones of Brian the Templar ! would ye could rise from your grave at Templestowe, and that we might break another spear for honor and — and " * * * "And Rebecca" he would have said ; but tlie knight paused here in rather a guilty panic : and her Royal Highness the Princess Rowena (as she chose t6 style herself at home) looked so hard at him out of her china-blue eyes, that Sir Wilfrid felt as if she was reading his thoughts, and was fain to drop his own eyes into his flagon. In a word, his life was intolerable. The dinner-hour of the twelfth century, it is known, was very early ; in fact, people dined at ten o'clock in the morning : and after dinner Rowena sat mum under her canopy, embroidered with the arms ®f Edward the Confessor, working with her maidens at the most hideous pieces of tapestry, representing the tortures and martyr- doms of her favorite saints, and not allowing a soul to speak above his breath, except when she chose to cry out in her own shrill voice when a handmaid made a wrong stitch, or let fall a ball of worsted. It was a dreary life. Wamba, we have said, never ventured to crack a joke, save in a whisper, when he was ten miles from home ; and then Sir Wilfrid Ivanhoe was too weary and blue-devilled to laugh ; but hunted in silence, moodily bringing down deer and wild-boar with shaft and quarrel. Then he besought Robin of Huntingdon, the jolly outlaw, nathless, to join him, and go to the help of their fair sire King Richard, with a score or two of lances. But the Earl of Hunt- ingdon was a very different character from Robin Hood the forester. There was no more conscientious magistrate in all the county than his lordship : he was never known to miss church or quarter-sessions ; he was the strictest game-proprietor in all the Riding, and sent scores of poacliers to Botany Ba)'. "A man who has a stake in the country, my good Sir Wilfrid," Lord Huntingdon said, with rather a patronizing air (liis lord- ship had grown immensely fat since the King had taken him into gcace, and required a horse as strong as an elephant to mount him) — " a man with a stake in the country ought to stay /;/ the country. Property has its duties as Avell as its privileges, and a person of my rank is bound to live on the land from which he gets his living." " Amen ! " sang out the Reverend Tuck, his lordship's domestic chaplain, who had also grown as sleek as the Abbot of Jorvaulx, who was as prim as a lady in his dress, wore ber- gamot in his handkerchief, and had his poll shaved and his THE OVERTURE. 277 beard curled every day. And so sanctified was his Reverence grown, that he thought it was a shame to kill the pretty deer, (though he ate of them still hugely, both in pasties and with French beans and currant-jelly,) and being shown a quarter- staff upon a certain occasion, handled it curiously, and asked ' what that ugly great stick was ? ' Lady Huntingdon, late Maid Marian, had still some of her old fun and spirits, and poor Ivanhoe begged and prayed that she would come and stay at Rotherwood occasionally, and egayer the general dulness of that castle. But her ladyship said that Rowena gave herself such airs, and bored her so intolera- bly with stories of King Edward the Confessor, that she pre- ferred any place rather flian Rotherwood, which was as dull as if it had been at the top of Mount Athos. The only person who visited it was Athelstane. " His Royal Highness the Prince" Rowena of course called him, whom the lady received with royal honors. She had the guns fired, and the footmen turned out with presented arms when he arrived ; helped him to all Ivanhoe's favorite cuts of the mutton or the turkey, and forced her poor husband to light him to the state bedroom, walking backwards, holding a pair of wax-candles. At this hour of bed-time the Thane used to be in such a condi- tion, that he saw two pairs of candles and two Ivanhoes reeling before him. Let us hope it was not Ivanhoe that was reeling, but only his kinsman's brains muddled with the quantities of drink which it was his daily custom to consume. Rowena said it was the crack which the wicked Bois Guilbert, " the Jewess's other\o\^x, Wilfrid my dear," gave him on his royal skull, which caused the Prince to be disturbed so easily ; but added, that drinking became a person of royal blood, and was but one of the duties of his station. Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe saw it would be of no avail to ask this man to bear him company on his projected tour abroad ; but still he himself was every day more and mor5 bent upon going, and he long cast about for some means of breaking to his Rowena his firm resolution to join the King. He thought she would certainly fall ill if he communicated the news too ab- ruptly to her : he would pretend a journey to York to attend a grand jury ; then a call to London on law business or to buy stock; then he would slip over to Calais by the packet, by de» grees as it were ; and so be with the King before his wife knew that he was out of sight of Westminster Hall. " Suppose your honor says you are going as your honor would say Bo ! to a goose, plump, short, and to the point," said 87^ REBECCA AND ROWENA. Wamba the Jester — who was Sir Wilfrid's chief counsellor and attendant — "depend on't her Highness would bear the news like a Christian woman." " Tush, malapert ! I will give thee the strap," said Sii Wilfrid, in a fine tone of high-tragedy indignation. " Thou knowest not the delicacv of the nerves of high-born ladies. An she faint not, write me down Hollander." " I will wager my bauble against an Irish billet of exchange that she will let your honor go off readily : that is, if you press not the matter too strongly," Wamba answered, knowingly. And this Ivanhoe found to his discomfiture : for one morning at breakfast, adopting a degage air, as he sipped his tea, he said, " My love, I was thinking of going over to pay his Majesty a visit in Normandy." Upon which, laying down her muffin, (which, since the royal Alfred baked those cakes, had been the chosen breakfast cate of noble Anglo-Saxons, and which a kneeling page tendered to her on a salver, chased by the Flor- entine, Benvenuto Cellini,) — " When do you think of going, Wilfrid my dear ? " the lady said ; and the moment the tea-things were removed, and the tables and their trestles put away, she set about mending his linen, and getting ready his carpet-bag. So Sir Wilfrid v/as as disgusted at her readiness to part with him as he had been weary of staying at home, which caused Wamba the Fool to say, " Marry, gossip, thou art like the man on ship board, who, when the boatswain flogged him, did cry out ' Oh ! ' wherever the rope's-end fell on him : which caused Master Boatswain to say, ' Plague on thee, fellow, and a pize on thee, knave, wherever I hit thee there is no pleasing thee.' " " And truly there are some backs which Fortune is always belaboring," thought Sir Wilfrid with a groan, "and mine is one that is ever sore." So, with a moderate retinue, whereof the knave Wamba made one, and a large woollen comforter round his neck, which nis wife's own white fingers had woven. Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe left home to join the King his master. Rowena, standing on the steps, poured out a series of prayers and blessings, most edifying to hear, as her lord mounted his charger, which his squires led to the door. " It was the duty of the British female of rank," she said, " to suffer all — all in the cause of her sov- ereign. She would not fear loneliness during the campaign : she would bear up against widowhood, desertion, and an un- protected situation." " My cousin Athelstane will protect thee," said Ivanhoe, with profound emotion, as the tears trickled down his basenet j THE OVERTURE. 279 and bestowing a chaste salute upon the steel-clad warrior, Rowena modestly said ' she hoped his Highness would be so kind.' Then Ivatihoe's trumpet blew : then Rowena waved her pocket-handkerchief : then the household gave a shout : then the pursuivant of the good Knight, Sir Wilfrid the Crusader, flung out his banner (which was argent, a gules cramoisy with three Moors impaled sable) : then Wamba gave a lash on his mule's haunch, and Ivanhoe, heaving a great sigh, turned the tail of his war-horse upon the castle of his fathers. As they rode along the forest, they met Atheistane the Thane powdering along the road in the direction of Rotherwood on his great dray-horse of a charger. '■' Good-by, good luck to you, old brick," cried the Prince, using the veniacular Saxon. " Pitch into those Frenchmen ; give it 'em over the face and eyes ; and I'll stop at home and take care of Mrs. I." "Thank you, kinsman," said Ivanhoe — looking, however, not particularly well-pleased ; and the chiefs shaking hands, the train of each took its different way — Athelstane's to Rother- wood, Ivanhoe's towards his place of embarkation. The poor knight had his wish, and yet his face was a yard long and as yellow as a lawyer's parchment ; and having longed to quit home any time these three years past, he found himself envying Atheistane, because, forsooth, he was going to Rother- wood : which symptoms of discontent being observed by the witless Wamba, caused that absurd madman to bring his rebeck over his shoulder from his back, and to sing — " ATRA CURA. " Before I lost my five poor wits, I mind me of a Romish clerk, Who sang how Care, the phantom dark, Beside the belted horseman sits. Methought I saw the grisly sprite Jump up but now behind my Knight." ■ " Perhaps thou didst, knave," said Ivanhoe, looking over his shoulder ; and the knave went on with his jingle : " And though he gallop as he may, I mark that cursed monster black Still sits behind his honor's back. Tight squeezing of his heart alway. Like two black Templars sit they there. Beside one crupper, Knight and Care. " No knight am I with jjannoned spear, To prance upon a bold destrere : I will not have black Care prevail Upon my long-eared charger's tail. For lo, 1 am a witless fool And lau'h at Grief ai»d ride a mule-** . 28o REBECCA AND ROWENA. And his bells rattled as he kicked his mule's sides. " Silence, fool ! " said Sir Wilfrid of Ivajihoe, in a voice both majestic and wrathful. "■ If thou knowest not care and grief, it is because thou knowest not love, whereof the^ are the com- panions. Who can love without an anxious heart ? " How shall there be joy at meeting, without tears at parting ? " (" I did not see that his honor or my lady shed many anon," thought Wamba the Fool ; but he was only a zany, and his mind was not right.) " I would not exchange my very sorrows for thine indifference," the knight continued. "Where there is a sun, there must be a shadow. If the shadow offend me, shall I put out my eyes and live in the dark ? No ! I am content with my fate, even such as it is. The Care of which thou speakest, hard though it may vex him, never yet rode down an honest man. I can bear him on my shoulders, and make my n^ay through the world's press in spite of him ; for my arm is stiong and my sword is keen, and my shield has no stain on it ; and my heart, though it is sad, knows no guile." And here, taking a locket out of his waistcoat (which was made of chain-mail), the knight kissed the token, put it back imder the waistcoat again, heaved a profound sigh, and stuck spurs into his horse. As for Wamba, he was munching a black pudding whilst Sir Wilfrid was making the above speech, (which implied some secret grief on the knight's part, that must have been perfectly unintelligible to the fool,) and so did not listen to a single word of Ivanhoe's pompous remarks. They travelled on by slow stages through the whole kingdom, until they came to Dover, whence they took shipping for Calais. And in this little voyage, being exeedingly sea-sick, and besides elated at the thought" of meeting his sovereign, the good knight cast away that profound melancholy which had accompanied him during the whole of his land journey. Chapter II. THE LAST DAYS OF THE LION. From Calais Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe took the diligence across country to Limoges, sending on Gurth, his squire, with the horses and the rest of his attendants ■ with the exception of Wamba, who travelled not only as the knight's fool, but as THE LAST DAYS OF THE LION. 281 his valet, and who, perched on the roof of the carriage, amused himself by blowing tunes upon the cottdiuteur' s French horn. The good King Richard was, as Ivanhoe learned, in the Limousin, encamped before a little place called Chains ; the lord whereof, though a vassal of the King's, was holding the castle against his sovereign with a resolution and valor which caused a great fury and annoyance on the part of the Monarch with the Lion Heart. For brave and magnanimous as he was, the Lion-hearted one did not love to be baulked any more than another ; and, like the royal animal whom he was said to resemble, he commonly tore his adversary to pieces, and then, perchance, had leisure to think how brave the latter had been. The Count of Chalus had found, it was said, a pot of money ; the Royal Richard wanted it. As the count denied that he had it, why did he not open the gates of his castle at once ? It was a clear proof that he was guilty ; and the King was deter- mined to punish this rebel, and have his money and his life too. He had naturally brought no breaching guns with him, because those instruments were not yet invented ; and though he had assaulted tha place a score of times w^ith the utmost fur}% his Majesty had been beaten back on even,^ occasion, until he was so savage that it was dangerous to approach the British Lion. The Lion's wife, the lovely Berengaria, scarcely ventured to come near him. He flung the joint-stools in his tent at the heads of the officers of state, and kicked his aides- de-camp round his pavilion ; and, in fact, a maid of honor, who brought a sack-posset in to his Majesty from the Queen, after he came in from the assault, came spinning like a football out of the royal tent just as Ivanhoe entered it. " Send me my dnnn-major to flog that woman ! " roared out the infuriate King. " By the bones of St. Barnabas she has burned the sack ! By St. Wittikind, I will have her flayed alive. Ha, St. George ! ha, St. Richard! whom have we here?" And he lifted up his demi-culverin, orcurtal-axe — a weapon weighing about thirteen hundredweight — and was about to fling it at the intruder's head, when the latter, kneeling gracefully on one knee, said calmly, " It is I, my good liege, Wilfrid of Ivanhoe." "What, Wilfrid of Templestowe, Wilfrid the married man, Wilfrid the henpecked ! " cried the King with a sudden burst of good-humor, flinging away the culverin from him, as though it had been a reed (it lighted three hundred yards off, on the foot of Hugo de Bunyon, who was smoking a cigar at the door of his tent, and caused that redoubted warrior to limp for some 282 REBECCA AND ROWENA. days after), " What, Wilfrid my gossip ? Art come to see the lion's den ? There are bones in it, man, bones and carcases, and the lion is angry," said the King, with a terrific glare of his eyes. " But tush ! we will talk of that anon. Ho ! bring two gallons of hypocras for the King and the good Knight, Wilfrid of Ivanhoe. Thou art come in time, Wilfrid, for, by St. Richard and St. George, we will give a grand assault to-morrow. There will be bones broken, ha ! " " I care not, my liege," said Ivanhoe, pledging the sovereign respectfully, and tossing off the whole contents of the bowl of hypocras to his Highness's good health. And he at once appeared to be taken into high favor ; not a little to the envy of many of the persons surrounding the King. As his Majesty said, there was fighting and feasting in plenty before Chalus. Day after day, the besiegers made assaults upon the castle, but it was held so stoutly by the Count of Chalus and his gallant garrison, that each afternoon beheld the attacking parties returning disconsolately to their tents, leaving behind them many of their own slain, and bringing back with them store of broken heads and maimed limbs, received in the unsuccessful onset. The valor displayed by Ivanhoe in all these contests was prodigious ; and the way in which he escaped death from the discharges of mangonels, catapults, battering- rams, twenty-four-pounders, boiling oil, and other artillery, with which the besieged received their enemies, was remarkable. After a day's fighting, Gurth and Wamba used to pick the arrows out of their intrepid master's coat-of-mail, as if they had been so many almonds in a pudding. 'Twas well for the good knight, that under his first coat-of-armor he wore a choice suit of Toledan steel, perfectly impervious to arrow-shots, and given to him by a certain Jew, named Isaac of York, to whom he had done some considerable services a few years back. If King Richard had not been in such a rage at the repeated failures of his attacks upon the castle, that all sense of justice was blinded in the lion-hearted monarch, he would have been the first to acknowledge the valor of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, and would have given him a Peerage and the Grand Cross of the Bath at least a dozen times in the course of the siege : for Ivanhoe led more than a dozen storming-parties, and with his own hand killed as many men (viz. : two thousand three hun- dred and fifty-one) within six, as were slain by the lion-hearted monarch himself. But his Majesty was rather disgusted than pleased by his faithful servant's prowess ; and all the courtiers, who hated Ivanhoe for his superior valor and dexterity (for he THE LAST DA YS OF THE LION. 283 would kill you off a couple of hundred of them of Chalus, whilst the strongest champions of the King's host could not finish more than their two dozen of a day), poisoned the royal mind against .Sir Wilfrid, and made the King look upon his feats of arms with an evil eye. Roger de Backbite sneeringly told the King that Sir Wilfrid had offered to bet an equal bet that he would kill more men than Richard himself in the next assault : Peter de Toadhole said that Ivanhoe stated everywhere, that his Majesty was not the man he used to be; tlmt pleasures and drink had enervated him ; that he could neither ride, nor strike a blow with sword or axe, as he had been enabled to do in the old times in Palestine : and finally, in the twenty-fifth assault, in which they had very nearly carried the place, and in which onset Ivanhoe slew seven, and his Majesty six, of the sons of the Count de Chalus, its defender, Ivanhoe almost did for him- self, by planting his banner before the King's upon the wall • and only rescued himself from utter disgrace by saving his Majesty's life several times in the course of this most desperate onslaught. Then the luckless knight's very virtues (as, no doubt, my respected readers know) made him enemies amongst the men — nor was Ivanhoe liked by the women frequenting the camp of the gay King Richard. His young Queen, and a brilliant court of ladies, attended the pleasure-loving monarch. His Majesty would transact business in the morning, then fight severely from after breakfast till about three o'clock in the afternoon ; from which time, until after midnight, there was nothing but jigging and singing, feasting aiul revelry, in the royal tents. Ivanhoe, who was asked as a matter of ceremony, and forced to attend these entertainments, not caring about the blandishments of any of the ladies present, looked on at their ogling and dancing with a countenance as glum as an undertaker's, and was a per- fect wet-blanket in the midst of the festivities. His favorite resort and conversation were with a remarkably austere hermit, who lived in the neighborhood of Chalus, and with whom Ivan- hoe loved to talk about Palestine, and the Jews, and other grave matters of import, better than to mingle in the gayest amuse- ments of the court of King Richard. Many a night, when the Queen and the ladies were dancing quadrilles and polkas, (in which his Majesty, who was enormously stout as well as tall^ insisted upon figuring, and in which he was about as graceful as an elephant dancing a hornpipe,) Ivanhoe would steal away from the ball, and come and have a night's chat under the moon with his reverend friend. It oained him to see a man of tha 284 REBECCA AND ROWENA. King's age and size dancing about with the young folks. They laughed at his Majesty whilst they flattered him : the pages and maids of honor mimicked the royal mountebank almost to his face ; and, if Ivanhoe ever could have laughed, he certainly would one night, when the King, in light-blue satin inexpres- sibles, with his hair in powder, chose to dance the minuet de la cour with the little Queen Berengaria. Then, after dancing, his Majesty must needs order a guitar, and begin to sing. He was said to compose his own songs — words and music — but those who have read Lord Campobello's " Lives of the Lord Chancellors," are aware that there was a person by the name of Blondel, who, in fact, did all the musical part of the King's performances ; and as for the words, when a king writes verses, we may be sure there will be plenty of people to tdmire his poetry. His Majesty would sing you a ballad, of which he had stolen every idea, to an air that was ringing on all the barrel-organs of Christendom, and, turning round to his courtiers, would say, ." How do you like that ? I dashed it off this morning." Or, " Blondel, what do yovi think of this movement in B flat ? " or what not ; and the courtiers and Blondel, you may be sure, would applaud with all their might, like hypocrites as they were. One evening — it was the evening of the 27th March, 1199, indeed — his Majesty, who was in the musical mood, treated the court with a quantity of his so-called composition, until the people were fairly tired of clapping with their hands and laugh- ing in their sleeves. First he sang an original air and poem, beginning • " Cherries nice, cherries nice, nice, come choose, Fresh and fair ones, who'll refuse ? " &c. The which he was ready to take his affidavit he had com- posed the day before yesterday. Then he sang an equally original heroic melody, of which the chorus was " Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the sea, For Britons never, never, never slaves shall be," &c. The courtiers applauded this song as they did the other, all except Ivanhoe, who sat without changing a muscle of his fea- tures, until the King questioned him, when the knight with a bow said ' he thought he had heard something very like the air and the words elsewhere.' His Majesty scowled at him a savage glance from under his red bushy eyebrows ; but Ivan- hoe had saved the royal life that day, and the King, therefore, with difficulty controlled his indignation. THE LAST DA YS OF THE LION: 285 "Well," said he, "by St. Richard and St. George, but j-e never heard this song, for I composed it this very afternoon as I took my bath after the mulee. Did I not, Blondel ? " Blondel, of course, was ready to take an affidavit that his Majesty had done as he said, and the King, thrumming on his guitar with his great red fingers and thumbs, began to sing out of tune, and as follows : — " COMMANDERS OF THE FAITHFUL. " The Pope he is a happy man, His Palace is tlie Vatican, And there he sits and drains his can : The Pope he is a Iiappy man. I often say when I'm at home, I'd Hke to be the Pope of Rome. " And then there's Sultan Saladin, That Turkish Soldan full of sin ; He has a hundred wives at least. By which his pleasure is increased: I've often wished, I hope no sin, That I were Sultan Saladin. " But no, the Pope no wife may choose, And so I would not wear his shoes ; No wine may drink the proud Paynim* And so I'd rather not be him : My wife, my wine, I love 1 hope, And would be neither Turk nor Pope." " Encore ! Encore ! Bravo ! Bis ! ! '' Everybody applauded the King's song with all his might : everybody except Ivanhoe, who preserved his abominable gravity ; and when asked aloud bv Roger de Backbite whether he had heard that too, said firmly, " Yes, Roger de Backbite ; and so hast thou if thou darest but tell the truth." " Now, by St. Cicely, may I never touch gittern again," bawled the King in a fur}^, "if every note, word, and thought be not mine ; may I die in to-morrow's onslaught if the song- be not my song. Sing thyself, Wilfrid of the Lanthorn Jaws ; thou could'st sing a good song in old times." And with all his might, and with a forced laugh, the King, who loved brutal practical jests, flung his guitar at the head of Ivanhoe. Sir Wilfrid caught it gracefully with one hand, and making an elegant bow to the sovereign, began to chant as follows : — "KING CANUTE. " King Canute wa3 weary-hearted ; he had reigned for years a score, Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more J And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore. '"Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps sedate, Ch.n.nib-rlains and grooin; came after, silvcrstic':^ aiKl fo'Hsticl:s great, Chiplaius, aides-de-camp, and pages, — xC.\ \\\z ofSceri cf rtatc. I 2g5 REBECCA AND ROWENA. " Sliclliic after like his shadow, pausing when he cliose to pause, _ If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws, If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws. " But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and young : Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favorite gleemen sung. Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tonguft. " ' Something ails my £;racious master,' cried the Keeper of the Seal. * Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or tho veal. • Psha ! ' exclaimed the angry monarch. ' Keeper, tis not that 1 leel. « ' 'Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair: Can a kinir be ereat as I am, prithee, and yet know no care ? . • , . Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary.'-Some one cried, ' The King's arm-chair! " Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper nodded, _ Straia;ht the King's great chair was brought him, by two footmen able-bodiea , Langtiidly he sank into it: it was comfortably wadded. "'Leading on my fierce companions,' cried he, ' over storm and brine, ^ I have fou'itht and I have conquered ! Where was glory like to mine ? Loudly alfthe courtiers echoed : ' Where is glory like to thine? " ' What avail me all my kingdoms? Weary am I now, and old ; Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and cold ; Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent mould! " ' Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent ! at my bosom tears and bites ; Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the lights ; Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed of nights. " ' Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires ; _ ^ Mothers weeping, virgins screaming, vainly for their slaughtered sires. — ' Such a tender conscience,' cries the Bishop, ' every one admires. " ' But for such unpleasant by-gones, cease, my gracious lord, to search. They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother Church ; Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch. " * Look! the land is crowned with minsters, which your Grace's bounty raised } Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily praised : YoH, my lord, to think of dying? on my conscience I'm amazed! •' ' Nay, I feel,' replied King Canute, ' that my end is drawing near.' ♦Don't say so,' exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear), •Sure your grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year. " ' Live these fifty years ! ' the Bishop roared, with actions made to suit. • Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King Canute ! Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will do t. "' Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methusela, Lived nine hundred vears apiece, and mayn't the King as well as they ? « Fervently,' exclaimed the Keeper, ' fer\-ently 1 trust he may. •"//■(? to die ? ' resumed the Bishop. * He a mortal like to m ? Death was not for him intended, though communis oiiiiiibns : Keeper, are you irreligious, for to talk and cavil thus. " ' With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete, Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their feet ; Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it meet. " ' Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill. And, the while he sle"w the toemen, bid the silver moon stand still? So, no doubt, could gracious Canuli-, if it were his sarred will. " ' Might I Slav the sun above us, good Sir Bishop?' Caniite cried; 'Could I liid tlie silver moon In pause irion her h.-avenly ride? If the moon obeys my orders, sure 1 can command the tide. ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 28/ '** Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign ?' Said the Bishop, bowmg lowly, ' Land and sea, my lord, are thine.' Canute turned towards the ocean — ' Back! ' he said, ' thou foaming brine. " ' From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat ; Venture not, thou stormy rebel , to approach thy master's seat : Ocean, be thou still! I bid thee come not i.earer to my feet! ' " But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar. And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling jounding on the shore ; Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and courtiers bore. " And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay. But alone to praise and worship Tliat which earth and seas obey: And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. King Canute is dead and gone : Parasites exist alway." At this ballad, which, to be sure, was awfully long, and as j^rave as a sermon, some of the courtiers tittered, some yawned, and some affected to be asleep and snore outright. But Roger de Backbite thinking to curry favor with the King by this piece of vulgarity, his Majesty fetched him a knock on the nose and a buffet on the ear, which, I warrant me, wakened Master Roger ; to whom the King said, " Listen and be civil, slave ; Wilfrid is singing about thee. — Wilfrid, thy ballad is long, but it is to the purpose, and I have grown cool during thy homily. Give me thy hand, honest friend. Ladies, good- night. Gentlemen, we give the grand assault to-morrow ; when I promise thee, Wilfrid, thy banner shall not be before mine." — And the King, giving his arm to her Majesty, retired into the private pavilion Chapter IIL st. george for england. Whilst the royal Richard and his court were feasting in the camp outside the walls of Chalus, they of the castle were in the most miserable plight that may be conceived. Hunger, as well as the fierce assaults of the besiegers, had made dire ravages in the place. The garrison's provisions of corn and cattle, their very horses, dogs, and donkeys had been eaten up — so that it might well be said by Wamba "that famine, as well as slaughter, had thinned the garrison." When the men of Chalus came on the walls to defend it against the scaling- i-crties of King Richard, they were like so many skeletons in 288 REBECCA AND ROWENA. armor ; they could hardly pull their bow-strings at last, oi pitch down stones on the heads of his Majesty's party, so weak had their arms become ; and the gigantic Count of Chalus — a warrior as redoubtable for his size and strength as Richard Plantagenet himself — was scarcely able to lift up his battle-axe upon the day of that last assault, when Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe ran him through the but we are advancing matters. What should prevent me from describing the agonies of hunger which the Count (a man of large appetite) suffered in company with his heroic sons and garrison ? — Nothing, but that Dante has already done the business in the notorious his- tory of Count Ugolino ; so that my efforts might be considered as mere imitations. Why should I not, if I were minded to revel in horrifying details, show you how the famished garrison drew lots, and ate themselves during the siege ; and how the unlucky lot falling upon the Countess of Chalus, that heroic woman, taking an affectionate leave of her family, caused her large cauldron in the castle kitchen to be set a-boiling, had onions, carrots and herbs, pepper and salt made ready, to make a savory soup, as the French like it; and when all things were quite completed, kissed her children, jumped into the cauldron from off a kitchen stool, and so was stewed down in her flannel bedgown? Dear friends, it is not from want of imagination, or from having no turn for the terrible or patlielic, that I spare you these details. I could give you some descrip- tion that would spoil your dinner and night's rest, and mr.ke your hair stand on end. But why harrow your feelings ? Fancy all the tortures and horrors that possibly can occur in a be- leaguered and famished castle : fancy the feelings of men who know that no more quarter will be given them than they w'ould get if they were peaceful Hungarian citizens kidnapped ai:d brought to trial by his Majesty the Emperor of yVustria ; aivJ then let us rush on to the breach and prepare once more to meet the assault of dreadful King Richard and his men. On the 29th of March in the year 1199, the good King, having copiously partaken of breakfast, caused his trumpets to blow, and advanced with his host upon the breach of the castle of Chalus. Arthur de Pendennis bore his banner ; Wilfrid of Ivanhoe fought on the King's right hand. Molyneux, Bishop of Bullocksmithy, doffed crozier and mitre for that day, and though fat and pursy, panted up the breach with the most resolute «pirit, roaring out war-cries and curses, and wielding a profligious mace of iron, with which he did good execution. Roger de Backbite was forced to come in attendanrr- rpon the ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 2 89 sovereign, but took care to keep in the rear of his august mas- ter, and to shelter behind his liuge triangular shield as much as possible. Many lords of note followed the King and bore the ladders ; and as they were placed against the wall, the air was i^erfectly dark with the shower of arrows which the French archers poured out at the besiegers, and the cataract of stones, kettles, bootjacks, chests of drawers, crockery, umbrellas, con- greve-rockets, bombshells, bolts and arrows and other missiles which the desperate garrison flung out on the storming-part)-. The King received a copper coal-scuttle right over his eyes, and a mahogany wardrobe was discharged at his morion, which ivould have felled an ox, and would have done for the King had not Ivanhoe warded it off skilfully. Still they advanced, the warriors falling around them like grass beneath the scythe of the mower. The ladders were placed in spite of the hail of death rain- ing round : the king and Ivanhoe were, of course, the first to mount them. Chains stood in the breach, borrowing strength from despair; and roaring out, "Hal Plantagenet, Sainte Barbacue for Chalus ! " he dealt the King a crack across the helmet with his battle-axe, which shore off the gilt lion and crown that surmounted the steel cap. The King bent and reeled back ; the beseigers were dismayed ; the garrison and the Count of Chalus set up a shout of triumph : but it was pre- mature. As quick as thought Ivanhoe was into the Count with a thrust in tierce, which took him just at the joint of the armor, and ran him through as clean as a spit does a partridge. Uttering a horrid shriek, he fell back writhing; the King recovering staggered up the parapet ; the rush of knights fol- lowed, and the union-jack was planted triumphantly on the walls, just as Ivanhoe, — but we must leave him for a moment. " Ha, St. Richard ! — ha, St. George ! " the tremendous voice of the Lion-king was heard over the loudest roar of the onset. At every sweep of his blade a severed head flew over the para- pet, a spouting trunk tumbled, bleeding, on the flags of the bartizan. The world hath never seen a warrior equal to that Lion-hearted Plantagenet, as he raged over the keep, his eyes flashing fire through the bars of his morion, snorting and chaf- ing with the hot lust of battle. One by one les aifans dc Chalus had fallen : there was only one left at last of all the brave race that had fought round the gallant Count: — only one, and but a boy, a fair-haired boy, a blue-eyed boy ! he had been gathering panties in tne fields but yesterday — it was but a few years, and ago /REBECCA AND ROIVENA. he was a baby in his mother's arms ! What could his puny sword do against the most redoubted blade in Christendom ? — ■ and yet Bohemond faced the great champion of England, and met him foot to foot ! Turn away, turn away, my dear young friends and kind-hearted ladies ! Do not look at that ill-fated poor boy ! his blade is crushed into splinters under the axe of the conqueror, and the poor child is beaten to his knee i * * * " Now, by St. Barbacue of Limoges," said Bertrand de Gourdon, " the butcher will never strike down yonder lambling ! Hold thy hand, Sir King, or, by St. Barbacue " Swift as thought the veteran archer raised his arblast to his shoulder, the whizzing bolt tied from the ringing string, and the next moment crashed quivering into the corselet of Plantagenet. 'Twas a luckless shot, Bertrand of Gourdon ! Maddened by the pain of the wound, the brute nature of Richard was aroused : his fiendish appetite for blood rose to madness, and grinding his teeth, and with a curse too horrible to mention, the flashing axe of the royal butcher fell down on the blonde ringlets of the child, and the children of Chalus were no more j * * * * I just throw this off by way of description, and to show what fnight be done if I chose to indulge in this style of compo- sition ; but as in the battles which are described by the kindly chronicler, of one of whose works this present masterpiece is professedly a continuation, everything passes off agreeably — the people are slain, but without any unpleasant sensation to the reader ; nay, some of the most savage and blood-stained characters of history, such is the indomitable good-humor of the great novelist, become amiable, jovial companions, for whom one has a hearty sympathy — so, if you please, we will have this fighting business at Chalus, and the garrison and honest Bertrand of Gourdon, disposed of ; the former, accord- to the usage of the good old times, having been hung up or murdered to a man, and the latter killed in the manner described by the late Dr. Goldsmith in his History. As for the Lion-hearted, we all very well know that the shaft of Bertrand de Gourdon put an end to the royal hero — • and that from that 29th of March he never robbed nor mur- dered any more. And we have legends in recondite books of the manner of the King's death. " You must die, my son," said the venerable Walter of Rouen, as Berengaria was carried shrieking from the King's tent. "Repent Sir King, and separate yourself from youj children I " ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. joj " It IS ill jesting with a dying man," replied the King. " Children have I none, my good lord bishop, to inherit after me." " Richard of England," said the archbishop, turning up his fine eyes, " your vices are your children. Ambition is your eldest child. Cruelty is your second child. Luxury is your third child ; and you have nourished them from your youth up. Separate yourself from these sinful ones, and prepare your soul, for the hour of departure draweth nigh." Violent, wicked, sinful, as he might have been, Richard of England met his death like a Christian man. Peace be to the soul of the brave ! When the news came to King Philip of France, he sternly forbade his courtiers to rejoice at the death of his enemy. "It is no matter of joy but of dolour," he said, " that the bulwark of Christendom and the bravest king of Europe is no more." Meanwhile what has become of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, whom we left in the act of rescuing his sovereign by running the Count of Chalus through the body ? As the good knight stooped down to pick his sword out of the corpse of his fallen foe, some one coming behind him sud- denly thrust a dagger into his back at a place where his shirt- of-mail was open (for Sir Wilfrid had armed that morning in a hurry, and it was his breast, not his back, that he was accus- tomed ordinarily to protect) ; and when poor Wamba came up on the rampart, which he did when the fighting was over, — being such a fool that he could not be got to thrust his head into danger for glory's sake — he found his dear knight with the dag- ger in his back lying without life upon the body of the Count de Chalus whom he had anon slain. Ah, what a howl poor Wamba set up when he found his master killed ! How he lamented over the corpse of that noble knight and friend ! What mattered it to him that Richard the King was borne wounded to his tent, and that Bertrand de Gourdon was flayed alive ? At another time the sight of this spectacle might have amused the simple knave ; but now all his thoughts were of his lord : so good, so gentle, so kind, so loyal, so frank with the great, so tender to the poor, so truthful of speech, so modest regarding his own merit, so true a gentle- man, in a word, that anybody might, with reason, deplore him. As Wamba opened the dear knight's corselet, he found a locket round his neck, in which there was some hair ; not flaxen like that of my Lady Rowena, who was almost as fair as aq 292 REBECCA AND ROIVENA. Albino, but as black, Wamba thought, as the locks of the Jewish maiden whom the knight had rescued in the lists of Templestowe. A bit of Rowena's hair was in Sir Wilfrid's possession, too ; but that was in his purse along with his seal of arms, and a couple of groats : for the good knight never kept any money, so generous was he of his largesses when money came in. Wamba took the purse, and seal, and groats, but he left the locket of hair round his master's neck, and when he returned to England never said a word about the circumstance. After all, how should he know whose hair it was ? It might have been the knight's grandmother's hair for aught the fool knew ; so he kept his counsel when he brought back the sad news and tokens to the disconsolate widow at Rotherwood. The poor fellow would never have left the body at all, and indeed sat by it all night, and until the gray of the morning,- when, seeing two suspicious-looking characters advancing towards him, he fled in dismay, supposing that they were marauders who were out searching for booty among the dead bodies ; and having not the least courage, he fled from these, and tumbled down the breach, and never stopped running as fast as his legs would carry him, until he reached the tent of his late beloved master. The news of the knight's demise, it ajDpeared, had been known at his quarters long before ; for his servants were gone, and had ridden off on his horses ; his chests were plun- dered : there was not so much as a shirt-collar left in his drawers, and the very bed and blankets had been carried away by thesQ faithful attendants. Who had slain Ivanhoe ? That remains a mystery to the present day ; but Roger de Backbite, whose nose he had pulled for defamation, and who was behind him in the assault at Chains, was seen two years afterwards at the court of King John in an embroidered velvet waistcoat which Rowena could have sworn she had worked for Ivanhoe, and about which the widow would have made some little noise, but that — but that she was no longer a widow. That she truly deplored the death of her lord cannot be questioned, for she ordered the deepest mourning which any milliner could supply, and erected a monument to his mem- ory as big as a minster. But she was a lady of such fine principles, that she did not allow her grief to overmaster her ; and an opportunity speedily arising for uniting the best Saxon families in England, by an alliance between herself and the gentleman who offered himself to her, Rowena sacrificed her ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 253 inclination to remain single, to her sense of duty ; and con- tracted a second matrimonial engagement. That Athelstane was the man, 1 suppose no reader familiar with lite, and novels which are a rescript of life, and are all strictly natural and edifymg, can for a moment doubt. Cardi- nal Pandulfo tied the knot for them : and lest there should be any doubt about Ivanhoe's death (for his body was never sent home after all, nor seen after Wamba ran away from it), his Eminence procured a Papal decree annulling the former mar- riage, so that Rowena became Mrs. Athelstane with a clear conscience. And who shall be surprised, if she was happier with the stupid and boozy Thane than with the gentle and mel- ancholy Wilfrid ? Did women never have a predilection for fools, I should like to know ; or fall in love with donkeys, before the time of the amours of Bottom and Titania .'' Ah ! Mary, had you not preferred an ass to a man, would you have married Jack Bray, when a Michael Angelo offered .-* Ah ! Fanny, were you not a woman, would you persist in adoring Tom Hiccups, who beats you, and comes home tipsy from the Club ? Yes, Rowena cared a hundred times more about tipsy Athelstane than ever she had done for gentle Ivanhoe, and so great was her infatuation about the former, that she would sit upon his knee in the presence of all her maidens, and let him smoke his cigars in the very drawing-room. This is the epitaph she caused to be written by Father Drono (who piqued himself upon his Latinity) on the stone commemorating the deatn of her late lord : — ipic f0t ©uilfrilrua, belli tmn uirit iuii&ug €um flluMo I't lancca, llormnnnia ft nuoquc/ranno llcrlifra 6iira ialuU : jut Purees multum cquitabuf (!Builbcrtum ocniiit : atquc /licroaolyma nilitt. ipeu! nunc sub foaea sunt tantt militis asua, ^rnr ^Ittjclstani fst conjur fastiaaima ^Ijani. And this is the translation whici' the doggered knave Wamba made of the latin lines : "REQUIISCAT. " Under the stone you behold, liuried, and coffined, and cold, Lieth Sir Wilfrid ths: Bold. " Always he marched ii advance, Warring in Flanders md FrancG) Doughty with sworif 'ind with lance. " Famous in Saracen fight, Rode in his youth the good knightj Scattering Payniras >n flight. 294 REBECCA AND ROWENA. " Brian the Templar untrue, Fairly in tourney he slew, Saw Hierusalem too. " Now he is buried and gone, Lying beneath the gray stone : Where shall you find such a one? " Long time his widow deplored, Weeping the fate of her lord. Sadly cut off by the sword. " When she was eased of her pain, Came the good Lord Athelstane, When her ladyship married again." Athelstane burst into a loud laugh, when he heard it, at the last line, but Rowena would have had the fool whipped, had not the Thane interceded ; and to him, she said, she could refuse nothing. Chapter IV. IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. I TRUST nobody will suppose, from the events described in the last chapter, that our friend Ivanhoe is really dead. Be- cause we have given him an epitaph or two and a monument, are these any reasons that he should be really gone out of the world ? No : as in the pantomime, when we see Clown and Pantaloon lay out Harlequin and cry over him, we are always sure that Master Harlequin will be up at the next minute alert and shining in his glistening coat ; and, after giving a box on the ears to the pair of them, will be taking a dance vvith Col- umbine, or leaping gayly through the clock-face, or into the three-pair-of-stairs' window :---'SO Sir Wilfrid, the Harlequin of our Christmas piece, may be run through a little, or may make believe to be dead, but will assuredly rise up again when he is wanted, and show himself at the right moment. The suspicious-looking characters from whom Wamba ran away were no cut-throats and plunderers, as the poor knave imagined, but no other than Ivanhoe's friend, the hermit, and a reverend brother of his, who visited the scene of the late battle in order to see if any Christians still survived there, whom they might shrive and get ready for heaven, or to whom IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 295 they might possibly offer the benefit of their skill as leeches. Both were prodigiously learned in the healing art ; and had about them these precious elixirs which so often occur in romances, and with which patients are so miraculously restored. Ab- ruptly dropping his master's head from his lap as he fled, poor Wamba caused the knight's pate to fall with rather a heavy thump to the ground, and if the knave had but stayed a minute longer, he would have heard Sir Wilfrid utter a deep groan. But though the fool heard him not, the holy hermits did ; and to recognize the gallant Wilfrid, to withdraw the enormous dagger still sticking out of his back, to wash the wound with a portion of the precious elixir, and to pour a little of it down his throat, was with the excellent hermits the work of an instant : which remedies being applied, one of the good men took the knight by the heels and the other by the head, and bore him daintily from the castle to their hermitage in a neighboring rock. As for the Count of Chalus, and the remainder of the slain, the hermits were too much occupied with Ivanhoe's case to mind them, and did not, it appears, give them any elixir : so that, if they are really dead, they must stay on the rampart stark and cold ; or if otherwise, when the scene closes upon them as it does now, they may get up, shake themselves, go to the slips and drink a pot of porter, or change their stage-clothes and go home to supper. My dear readers, you may settle the matter among yourselves as you like. If you wish to kill the characters really off, let them be dead, and have done with them : but, eutre nous, I don't believe they are any more dead than you or 1 are, and sometimes doubt whether there is a single syllable of truth in this whole story. Well, Ivanhoe was taken to the hermits' cell, and there doctored by the holy fathers for his hurts ; which were of such a severe and dangerous order, that he was under medical treat- ment for a very considerable time. When he woke up ixom. his delirium, and asked how long he had been ill, fancy his astonishment when he heard that he had been in the fever for six years ! He thought the reverend fathers were joking at first, but their profession forbade them from that sort of levity ; and besides, he could not possibly have got well any sooner, because the story would have been sadly put out had he ap- peared earlier. And it proves how good the fathers were to him, and how very nearly that scoundrel of a Roger de Back- bite's dagger had finished him, that he did not get well under this great length of time ; during the whole of which the fathers tended him without ever thinking of a fee. I know of a kind 2g6 REBECCA AND ROWENA. physician in this town who does as much sometimes ; but 1 won't do him the ill service of mentioning his name here. Ivanhoe, being now quickly pronounced well, trimmed his beard, which by this time hung down considerably below his knees, and calling for his suit of chain-armor, which before had fitted his elegant person as tight as wax, now put it on, and it bagged and hung so loosely about him, that even the good friars laughed at his absurd appearance. It was impossible that he should go about the country in such a garb as that : the very boys would laugh at him : so the friars gave him one of their old gowns, in which he disguised himself, and after taking an affectionate farewell of his friends, set forth on his return to his native country. As he went along, he learned that Richard was dead, that John reigned, that Prince Arthur had been poisoned, and was of course made acquainted with various other facts of public importance recorded in Pinnock's Catechism and the Historic Page. But these subjects did not interest him near so much as his own private affairs ; and I can fancy that his legs trembled under him, and his pilgrim's staff shook with emotion, as at length, after many perils, he came in sight of his paternal mansion of Rotherwood, and saw once more the chimneys smoking, the shadows of the oaks over the grass in the sunset, and the rooks winging over the trees. He heard, the supper gong sounding : he knew his way to the door well enough ; he entered the familiar hall with a bcnedicite, and without any more words took his place. * * * * * You might have thought for a moment that the gray friar trembled and his shrunken cheek looked deadly pale ; but he recovered himself presently : nor could you see his pallor for the cowl which covered his face. A little boy was playing on Athelstane's knee ; Rowena, smiling and patting the Saxon Thane fondly on his broad bull- head, filled him a huge cup of spiced wine from a golden jug. He drained a quart of the liquor, and, turning round, addressed the friar : — " And so, gray frere, thou sawest good King Richard fall at Chains by the bolt of that felon bowman ? " " We did, an it please you. The brothers of our house attended the good King in his last moments : in truth, he made a Christian ending ! " " And didst tli^ou see the archer flayed alive ? It must have been rare sport," roared Athelstane, laughing hugely at the joke. " How the fellow must have howled ! " IVAXHOE IX THE HALL OF HIS FATHERS. IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 297 " My love ! " said Rowena, interposing tenderly, and putting a pretty white finger on his lip. " I would have liked to see it too," cried the boy. " That's my own little Cedric, and so thou shalt. And, friar, didst see my poor kinsman Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe ? They say he fought well at Chains ! " " My sweet lord," again interposed Rowena, " mention him not." " Why ? Because thou and he were so tender in days of yore — when you could not bear my plain face, being all in love with his pale one .? " " Those times are past now, dear Athelstane," said his affectionate wife, looking up to the ceiling. " Marry, thou never could'st forgive him the Jewess, Rowena." " The odious hussy ! don't mention the name of the unbe- lieving creature," exclaimed the lady. " Well, well, poor Wil was a good lad — a thought melan- choly and milksop though. Why, a pint of sack fuddled his poor brains." " Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe was a good lance," said the friar. " I have heard there was non« better in Christendom. He lay in our convent after his wounds, and it was there we tended him till he died. He was buried in our north cloister." " And there's an end of him," said Athelstane. " But come, this is dismal talk. Where's Wamba the Jester ? Let us have a song. Stir up, Wamba, and don't lie like a dog in the fire ! Sing us a song, thou crack-brained jester, and leave off whim- pering for by-gones. Tush, man ! There be many good fellows left in this world." " There be buzzards in eagles' nests," Wamba said, who was lying stretched before the fire, sharing the hearth with the Thane's clogs. " There be dead men alive, and live men dead. There be merry songs and dismal songs. Marry, and the merriest are the saddest sometimes. I will leave off motley and wear black, gossip Athelstane. I will turn howler at funerals, and then, perhaps, I shall be merry. Motley is fit for mutes, and black for fools. Give me some drink, gossip, for my voice is as cracked as my brain." " Drink and sing, thou beast, and cease prating," the Thane said. And Wamba, touching his rebeck wildly, sat up in the chimney-side and curled his lean shanks together and began :— 298 REBECCA AND ROWENA. •'LOVE AT TWO SCORE. * Ho ! pretty page, with dimpled chin, Tluit never has known the barber's shear. All your aim is woman to win — This is the way that boys begin — Wait till you've come to forty year? " Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, Billing and cooing is all your cheer. Sighing and singing of midnight strains Under Bonnybells' window-panes. Wait till you've come to forty yearl •' Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, Grizzling hair the brain doth clear ; Then you know a boy is an ass, Then you know the worth of a lass Once you have come to forty year. " Pledge me round, I bid ye declare. All good fellows whose beards are gray : Did not the fairest of the fair Common grown, and wearisome, ere Ever a month was passed away ? " The reddest lips that ever have kissed. The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper and we not list, Or look away and never be missed, Ere yet ever a month was gone. *' Gillian's dead, Heaven rest her bier, How f loved her twenty years syne? Marian's married, but I sit here, Alive and merry at forty year. Dipping my nose in my Gascon wine." "Who taught thee that merry lay, Wamba, thou son of Wit- less ? " roared Athelstane, clattering his cup on the table and shouting the chorus. " It was a good and holy hermit, sir, the pious clerk of Copmanhurst, that you wot of, who played many a prank with us in the days that we knew King Richard. Ah, noble sir, that was a jovial time and a good priest." " They say the holy priest is sure of the next bishopric, my love," said Rowena. "His Majesty hath taken him into much favor. My Lord of Huntingdon looked very well at the last ball ; but I never could see any beauty in the Countess — a freckled, blowsy thing, whom they used to call Maid Marian : though, for the matter of that, what between her flirtations with Major Littlejohn and Captain Scarlett, really " " Jealous again — haw ! haw ! " laughed Athelstane. " I am above jealousy, and scorn it," Rowena answered, drawing herself up very majestically. "Well, well, Wamba's was a good song," Athelstane said. " Nay, a wicked song," said Rowena, turning up her eyes rVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 299 as usual, " What ! rail at woman's love ? Prefer a filthy wine- Cup to a true wife ? Woman's love is eternal, my Athelstane. He who questions it would be a blasphemer were he not a fool. The well-born and well-nurtured gentlewoman loves once and only." " I pray you, madam, pardon me, I — I am not well," said the gray friar, rising abruptly from his settle, and tottering down the steps of the dais. Wamba sprung after him, his bells jingling as he rose, and casting his arms round the appar- ently fainting man, he led him away into the court. " There be dead men alive and live men dead," whispered he. ** There be cofifins to laugh at and marriages to cry over. Said I not sooth, holy friar ? " And when they had got out into the solitary' court, which was deserted by all the followers of the Thane, who were mingling in the drunken revelry in the hall, Wamba, seeing that none were by, knelt down, and kissing the friar's garment, said, " I knew thee, I knew thee, my lord and my liege ! " " Get up," said Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, scarcely able to articu- late : " only fools are faithful." And he passed on, and into the little chapel where his father lay buried. All night long the friar spent there : and Wamba the Jester lay outside watching as mute as the saint over the porch. When the morning came, Wamba was gone; and the knave being in the habit of wandering hither and thither as he chose, lit- tle notice was taken of his absence by a master and mistress who had not much sense of humor. As for Sir Wilfrid, a gentleman of his delicacy of feelings could not be expected to remain in a house where things so naturally disagreeable to him were oc- curring, and he quitted Rotherwood incontinently, after paying a dutiful visit to the tomb where his old father, Cedric, was buried ; and hastened on to York, at which city he made him- self known to the family attorney, a most respectable man, in whose hands his ready money was deposited, and took up a sum sufificicnt to fit himself out with credit, and a handsome retinue, as became a knight of consideration. But he changed his name, wore a wig and spectacles, and disguised himself entirely, so that it was impossible his friends or the public should know him, and thus metamorphosed, went about whither- soever his fancy led him. He was present at a public ball at York, which the lord mayor gave, danced Sir Roger de Coverley in the very same set with Rowena — (who was dis« 300 REBECCA AND ROWEJVA. gusted that Maid Marian took precedence of her) — he saw lit< tie Athelstane overeat himself at the supper and pledge his big father in a cup of sack ; he met the Reverend Mr. Tuck at a missionary meeting, where he seconded a resolution proposed by that eminent divine ; — in fine, he saw a score of his old ac- quaintances, none of whom recognized in him the warrior of Palestine and Templestowe. Having a large fortune and nothing to do, he went about this country performing charities, slaying robbers, rescuing the distressed, and achieving nobltf feats of arms. Dragons and giants existed in his day no more, or be sure he would have had a fling at them : for the truth is, Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe was somewhat sick of the life which the hermits of Chains had restored to him, and felt himself so friendless and solitary that he would not have been sorry to come to an end of it. Ah, my clear friends and intelligent British public, are there not others who are melancholy under a mask of gayety, and who, in the midst of crowds, are lonely ? Liston was a most melancholy man ; Grimaldi had feelings ; and there are others I wot of : — but psha ! — let us have the next chapter. Chapter V. IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. The rascally manner in which the chicken-livered successor of Richard of the Lion-heart conducted himself to all parties, to his relatives, his nobles, and his people, is a matter notori- ous, and set forth clearly in the Historic Page : hence, although nothing, except perhaps success, can, in my opinion, excuse disaffection to the sovereign, or appearance in armed rebellion against him, the loyal reader will make allowance for two of the principal personages of this narrative, who will have to appear in the present chapter in the odious character of rebels to their lord and king. It must be remembered, in partial exculpation of the fault of Athelstane and Rowena, (a fault for which they were well punished, as you shall presently hear,) that the monarch exasperated his subjects in a variety of ways, — that before he murdered his royal nephew. Prince Arthur, there was a great question whether he was the rightful King of IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. 301 England at all, — that his behavior as an uncle, and a family man, was likely to wound the feelings of any lady and mother, — finally, that there were palliations for the conduct of Rowena and Ivanhoe, which it now becomes our duty to relate. When his Majesty destroyed Prince Arthur, the Lady Rowena, who was one of the ladies of honor to the Queen, gave up her place at court at once, and retired to her Castle of Rotherwood. Expressions made use of by her, and derog- atory to the character of the sovereign, were carried to the monarch's ears, by some of those parasites, doubtless, by whom it is the curse of kings to be attended ; and John swore, by St. Peter's teeth, that he would be revenged upon the haughty Saxon lady, — a kind of oath which, though he did not trouble himself about all other oaths, he was never known to break. It was not for some years after he had registered this vow, that he was enabled to keep it. Had Ivanhoe been present at Rouen when the King medi- tated his horrid designs against his nephew, there is little doubt that Sir Wilfred would have prevented them, and rescued the boy : for Ivanhoe was, we need scarcely say, a hero of romance ; and it is the custom and duty of all gentlemen of that profes- sion to be present on all occasions of historic interest, to be engaged in all conspiracies, royal interviews, and remarkable occurrences : and hence Sir Wilfred would certainly have res- cued the young Prince, had he been anywhere in the neighbor- hood of Rouen, where the foul tragedy occurred. But he was a couple of hundred leagues off, at Chains, when the circum- stance happened ; tied down in his bed as crazy as a Bedlamite, and raving ceaselessly in the Hebrew tongue (which he had caught up in a previous illness in which he was tended by a maiden of that nation) about a certain Rebecca Ben Isaacs, of whom, being a married man, he never would have thought, had he been in his sound senses. During this delirium, what were politics to him, or he to politics ? King John or King Arthur were entirely indifferent to a man who announced to his nurse-tenders, the good hermits of Chalus before mentioned, that he was the Marquis of Jericho, and about to marry Re- becca the Queen of Sheba. In a word, he only heard of what had occurred when he reached England, and his senses were restored to him. Whether was he happier, sound of brain and entirely miserable, (as any man would be who found so admirable a wife as Rowena married again,) or perfectly crazy, the husband of the beautiful Rebecca ? I don't know which he liked best. 20 ,02 REBECCA AND ROWENA. Howbeit the conduct of King John inspired Sir Wilfrid with so thorough a detestation of that sovereign, that he never could be brought to take service under him ; to get himself pre- sented at St. James's, or in any way to acknowledge, but by stern acquiescence, the authority of the sanguinary successor of his beloved King Richard. It was Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, I need scarcely say, who got the Barons of England to league together and extort from the king that famous instrument and palladium of our liberties at present in the British Museum, Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury — the Magna Charta. His name does not naturally appear in the list of Barons, because he was only a knight, and a knight in disguise too ; nor does Athelstane's signature figure on that document. Athelstane, in the first place, could not write ; nor did he care a penny- piece about politics, so long as he could drink his wine _ at home undisturbed, and have his hunting and shooting in quiet. It was not until the King wanted to interfere with the sport of every gentleman in England (as we know by reference to the Historic Page that this odious monarch did), that Atheh stane broke out into open rebellion, along with several York- shire squires and noblemen. It is recorded of the King, that he forbade every man to hunt his own deer ; and, in order to secure an obedience to his orders, this Herod of a monarch wanted to secure the eldest sons of all the nobility and gentry, as hostages for the good behavior of their parents. Athelstane was anxious about his game — Rowena was anx- ious about her son. The former swore that he would hunt his deer in spite of all Norman tyrants — the latter asked, should she give up her boy to the ruffian who had murdered his own nephew ? * The speeches of both were brought to the King at York ; and, furious, he ordered an instant attack upon Rother- wood, and that the lord and lady of that castle should be brought before him dead or alive. Ah, where was Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, the unconquerable champion, to defend the castle against the royal party ? A few thrusts from his lance would have spitted the leading warriors of the King's host : a few cuts from his sword would have put John's forces to rout. But the lance and sword of Ivanhoe were idle on this occasion. " No, be hanged to me ! " said the knight, bitterly, " ihis is a quarrel in which I can't interfere. Common politeness forbids. Let yonder ale-swilling Athelstane defend his— ha, \\?i—%uifc; and my Lady Rowena guard her— ha, ha, \\-xsonr And he laughed wildly and madly ; and the * See Hume, Giraklus Caiiibrcnsis, The Monk of Cioyland, and Pinnock's Catechism. IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. ZOZ sarcastic way in which he choked and gurgled oqt the words "wife " and " son " would have made you shudder to hear. When he heard, however, that, on the fourth day of the siege, Athelstane had been slain by a cannon-ball, (and this time for good, and not to come to life again as he had done before,) and that the widow (if so the innocent bigamist may be called) was conducting the defence of Rotherwood herself with the greatest intrepidity, showing herself upon the walls with her little son, (who bellowed like a bull, and did not like the fighting at all,) pointing the guns and encouraging the gar- rison in every way — better feelings returned to the bosom of the Knight of Ivanhoe, and summoning his men, he armed himself quickly, and determined to go forth to the rescue. He rode without stopping for two days and two nights in the direction of Rotherwood, with such swiftness and disregard for refreshment, indeed, that his men dropped one by one upon the road, and he arrived alone at the lodge-gate of the park. The windows were smashed ; the door stove in ; the lodge, a neat little Swiss cottage, with a garden where the pinafores of Mrs. Gurth's children might have been seen hanging on the gooseberry-bushes in more peaceful times, was now a ghastly heap of smoking ruins : cottage, bushes, pinafores, children lay mangled to- gether, destroyed by the licentious soldiery of an infuriate monarch ! Far be it from me to excuse the disobedience of Athelstane and Rowena to their sovereign ; but surely, surely this cruelty might have been spared. Gurth, who was lodge-keeper, was lying dreadfully wounded and expiring at the flaming and violated threshold of his lately picturesque home. A catapult and a couple of mangonels had done his business. The faithful fellow, recognizing his master, who had put up his vizor and forgotten his wig and spectacles in the agitation of the moment, exclaimed, "Sir Wilfrid! my dear master — praised be St. Waltheof — there may be yet time • — my beloved mistr — master Atheist * * *" He sank back, and never spoke again. Ivanhoe spurred on his horse Bavieca madly up the chestnut avenue. The castle was before him ; the western tower was in flames ; the besiegers were pressing at the southern gate \ Athelstane's banner, the bull rampant, was still on the northern bartizan. " An Ivanhoe, an Ivanhoe ! " he bellowed out, with a shout that overcame all the din of battle : " Nostre Dame a la rescousse ! " And to hurl his lance through the midriff of Reginald de Bracy, who was commanding the assault — who fel] howling with anguish — to wave his battle-axe over his own 304 REBECCA AA'D ROWENA. head, and cut off those of thirteen men-at-arms, was the work of an instant. "An Ivanhoe, an Ivanlioe ! " he still sliouted, and down went a man as sure as he said ' hoe ! ' " " Ivanhoe ! Ivanhoe ! " a shrill voice cried from the top of the northern bartizan. Ivanhoe knew it. " Rowena my love, I come ! " he roared on his part. " Vil- lains ! touch but a hair of her head, and I * * * * " Here, with a sudden plunge and a squeal of agony, Bavieca sprang forward wildly, and fell as wildly on her back, rolling over and over upon the knight. All was dark before him ; his brain reeled ; it whizzed ; something came crashing down on his forehead. St. Waltheof and all the saints of the Saxon calendar protect the knight 1 * * * When he came to himself, Wamba and the lieutenant of his lances were leaning over him with a bottle of the hermit's elixir. "We arrived here the day after the battle, said the f ool j "marry, I have a knack of that." " Your worship rode so deucedly quick, there was no keep- ing up with your worship," said the lieutenant. "The day — after — the bat — " groaned Ivanhoe. "Where is the Lady Rowena.?" _ " The castle has been taken and sacked," the lieutenant said, and pointed to what once was Rotherwood, but was now only a heap of smoking ruins. Not a tower was left, not a roof, not a floor, not a single human being ! Everything was flame and ruin, smash and murther! Of course Ivanhoe fell back fainting again among the ninety- seven men at arms whom he had slain ; and it was not until Wamba had applied a second, and uncommonly strong dose of the elixir that he came to life again. The good knight was, however, from long practice, so accustomed to the severest wounds, that he bore them far more easily than common folk, and thus was enabled to reach York upon a litter, which his men constructed for him, with tolerable ease. Rumor had as usual advanced before him ; and he heard at the hotel where he stopped, what had been the issue of the affair at Rotherwood. A minute or two after his horse was stabbed, and Ivanhoe knocked down, the western bartizan was taken by the storming-party which invested it, and every soul slain, except Rowena and her boy ; who were tied upon horses and carried away, under a secure guard, to one of the King's castles — nobody knew whither : and Ivanhoe was recommended by the hotel-keeper (whose house he had used in former times) to reassume his wig and spectacles, and not call himself by his IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. 305 own name any more, lest some of the King's people should lay hands on him. However, as he had killed everybody round about him, there was but little danger of his discovery ; and the Knight of the Spectacles, as he w^as called, went about York quite unmolested, and at liberty to attend to his own affairs. We wish to be brief in narrating this part of the gallant hero's existence; for his life was one of feeling rather than affection, and the description of mere sentiment is considered by many well-informed persons to be tedious. What were his sentiments now, it maybe asked, under the peculiar position in which he found himself .? He had done his duty by Rowena, certainly : no man could say otherwise. But as for being in love with her any more, after what had occurred, that was a different question. Well, come what would, he was determined still to continue doing his duty by her ; — but as she was whisk- ed away the deuce knew whither, how could he do anything ? So he resigned himself to the fact that she was thus whisked away. He, of course, sent emissaries about the country to endeav- or to find out where Rowena was : but these came back with- out any sort of intelligence ; and it was remarked, that he still remained in a perfect state of resignation. He remained in this condition for a year, or more ; and it was said that he was becoming more cheerful, and he certainly was growing rather fat. The Knight of the Spectacles was voted an agreeable man in a grave way ; and gave some very elegant, though quiet, parties, and was received in the best society of York. It was just at assize-time, the lawyers and barristers had arrived, and the town was unusually gay ; when, one morning, the attorney, whom we have mentioned as Sir Wilfrid's man of business, and a most respectable man, called upon his gallant client at his lodgings, and said he had a communication of importance to make. Having to communicate with a client of rank, who was condemned to be hanged for forgery, Sir Roger de Backbite, the attorney said, he had been to visit that party in the condemned cell ; and on the way through the yard, and through the bars of another cell, had seen and recognized an old acquaintance of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe — and the lawyer held him out, with a particular look, a note, written on a piece of whitey-brown paper. What were Ivanhoe's sensations when he recognized the handwriting of Rowena ! — he trembingly dashed open the billet, and read as follows : — *' My dearest Ivanhoe, — For I am thine now as erst, and 3o6 REBECCA AND ROWENA. my first love was ever — ever dear to me. Have I been neat thee dying for a whole year, and didst thou make no effort to rescue thy Rowena ? Have ye given to others — I mention not their name nor their odious creed — the heart that ought to be mine ? I send thee my forgiveness from my dying pallet of ■straw. — I forgive thee the insults I have received, the cold and hunger I have endui'ed, the failing health of my boy, the bitter- ness of my prison, thy infatuation about that Jewess, which made our married life miserable, and which caused thee, I am sure, to go abroad to look after hen I forgive thee all my wrongs, and fain would bid thee farewell. Mr. Smith hath gained over my jailer — he will tell thee how I may see thee. Come and console my last hour by promising that thou wilt care for my boy — his boy who fell like a hero (when thou wert absent) combating by the side of " Rowena." Tlie reader may consult his own feelings, and say whether Ivanhoe was likely to be pleased or not by this letter ; however^ he inquired of Mr. Smith, the solicitor, what was the plan which that gentleman had devised for the introduction to Lady Rowena, and was informed that he was to get a barrister's gown and wig, when the jailer would introduce him into the interior of the prison. These decorations, knowing several gentlemen of the Northern Circuit, Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe easily procured, and ■ with feelings of no small trepidation, reached the cell, where, for the space of a year, poor Rowena had been immured. If any person have a doubt of the correctness, of the historical exactness of this narrative, I refer him to the "Biog- raphie Universelle " (article Jean sans Terre), which says, " La femme d'un baron auquel on vint demander son fils, repondit, ' Le roi pense-t-il que je confierai mon fils a un homme qui a egorge son neveu de sa propre main ? ' Jean fit enlever la mere et I'enfant, et la \z\ssa. 7nourir defaim dans les cachets." I picture to myself, with a painful sympath}', Rowena under- going this disagreeable sentence. All her virtues, her resolu- tion, her chaste energy and perseverance, shine with redoubled lustre, and, for the first time since the commencement of the history, I feel that I am partially reconciled to her. The weary year passes — she grows weaker and more languid, thinner and thinner! At length Ivanhoe, in the disguise of a barrister of the Northern Circuit, is introduced to her cell, and finds his lady in the last stage of exhaustion, on the straw of her dun- geon, with her little boy in her arms. She has preserved his IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 307 /ife at the expense of her own, giving him the whole of the pittance which her jailers allowed her, and perishing herself of inanition. There is a scene ! I feel as if I had made it up, as it were, with this lady, and that we part in peace, in consequence of my providing her with so sublime a death-bed. Fancy Ivanhoe's entrance — their recognition — the faint blush upon her worn features — the pathetic way in which she gives little Cedric in charge to him, and his promises of protection. " Wilfrid, my early loved," slowly gasped she, removing her gray hair from her furrowed temples, and gazing on her boy fondly, as he nestled on Ivanhoe's knee — " promise me, by St. Waltheof of Templestowe — promise me one boon ! " " I do," said Ivanhoe, clasping the boy, and thinking it was to that little innocent the promise was intended to apply. " By St. Waltheof ? " " By St. Waltheof ! " " Promise me, then," gasped Rowena, staring wildly at him, "that you never will marry a Jewess ? " " By St. Waltheof," cried Ivanhoe, " this is too much, Ro- wena ! " — But he felt his hand grasped for a moment, the nerves then relaxed, the pale lip ceased to quiver — she was no more ! Chapter VI. IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. Having placed young Cedric at school at the Hall of Dotheboyes, in Yorkshire, and arranged his family affairs, Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe quitted a country which had no longer any charms for him, and in which his stay was rendered the less agreeable by the notion that King John would hang him, if ever he could lay hands on the faithful follower of King Richard and Prince Arthur. But there was always in those days a home and occupation for a brave and pious knight. A saddle on a gallant war-horse, a pitched field against the Moors, a lance wherewith to spit a turbaned infidel, or a road to Paradise carved out by his scimitar — these were the height of the ambition of good and religious warriors j and so renowned a champion as Sir Wilfrid of Ivan- 3o8 REBECCA AND ROWENA. hoe was sure to be well received wherever blows were stricken for the cause of Christendom. Even among the dark Templars, he who had twice overcome the most famous lance of their Order was a respected though not a welcome guest : but among the opposition company of the Knights of St. John, he was ad- mired and courted beyond measure.; and always affectioning that Order, which offered him, indeed, its first rank and com- manderies, he did much good service ; fighting in their ranks for the glory of heaven and St. Waltheof, and slaying many thousands of the heathen in Prussia, Poland, and those savage Northern countries. The only fault that the great and gallant, though severe and ascetic Folko of Heydenbraten, the chief of the Order of St. John, found with the melancholy warrior, whose iance did such good service to the cause, was, that he did not persecute the Jews as so religious a knight should. He let off sundry captives of that persuasion whom he had taken with his sword and his spear, saved others from torture, and actually /ansomed the two last grinders of a venerable rabbi (that P^oger de Cartright, an English knight of the Order, was about to extort from the elderly Israelite,) with a hundred crowns a^-.d a gimmal ring, which were all the property he possessed. Whenever he so ransomed or benefited one of this religion, he would moreover give them a little token or a mes- sage (were the good knight out of money), saying, " Take this token, and remember this deed was done by Wilfrid the Dis- inherited, for ihe services whilome rendered to him by Rebecca, the daughtei of Isaac of York ! " So among themselves, and in their meetings and synagogues, and in their restless travels from land to Und, when they of Jewry cursed and reviled all Christians, as such abominable heathens will, they nevertheless excepted the name of the Desdichado, or the doubly-disinherited as he now was, the Desdichado-Doblado. The account of all the battles, storms, and scaladoes in which Sir Wilfrid took part, would only weary the reader ; for the chopping off une heathen's head with an axe must be very like the decapitation of any other unbeliever. Suffice it to say, that wherever this kind of work was to be done, and Sir Wil- frid was in the way, he was the man to perform it. It would astonish you were you to see the account that Wamba kept of his master's achievements, and of the Bulgarians, Bohemians, Croatians, slain or maimed by his hand. And as, in those days, a reputation for valor had an immense effect upon the soft hearts of women, and evj vavor by Beauty : so Ivanhoc, XiPhim IVANHOE RANSOMS A JEW'S GRINDERS. IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 309 who was by no means ill-favored, though now becoming rather elderly, made conquests over female breasts as well as over Saracens, and had more than one direct offer of marriage made to him by princesses, countesses, and noble ladies possessing both charms and money, which they were anxious to place at the disposal of a champion so renowned. It is related that the Duchess Regent of Kartoffelberg offered him her hand, and the ducal crown of Kartoffelberg, which he had rescued from the unbelieving Prussians ; but Ivanhoe evaded the Duchess's oft'er, by riding away from her capital secretly at midnight and hiding himself in a convent of Knights Hospitallers on the borders of Poland. And it is a fact that the Princess Rosalia Seraphina of Pumpernickel, the most lovely woman of her time, became so frantically attached to him, that she followed him on a campaign, and was discovered with his baggage disguised as a horse-boy. But no princess, no beauty, no female blandish- ments had any charms for Ivanhoe : no hermit practised a more austere celibacy. The severity of his morals contrasted so re- markably with the lax and dissolute manner of the young lords and nobles in the courts which he frequented, that these young springalds would sometimes sneer and call him Monk and Milksop ; but his courage in the day of battle was so terrible and admirable, that I promise you the youthful libertines did not sneer then ; and the most reckless of them often turned pale when they couched their lances to follow Ivanhoe. Holy Waltheof ! it was an awful sight to see him with his pale calm face, his shield upon his breast, his heavy lance before him, charging a squadron of heathen Bohemians, or a regiment of Cossacks ! Wherever he saw the enemy, Ivanhoe assaulted him : and when people remonstrated with him, and said if he attacked such and such a post, breach, castle, or army, he would be slain, " And suppose I be ? " he answered, giving them to understand that he would as lief the Battle of Life were over altosfether. ^&^ While he was thus making war against the Northern infidels news was carried all over Christendom of a catastrophe which had befallen the good cause in the South of Europe, where the Spanish Christians had met with such a defeat at the hands of the Moors as had never been known in the proudest days of Saladin. Thursday, the 9th of Shaban, in the 605th year of the Hejira, is known all over the West as the amim-al-ark, the year of the battle of Alarcos, gained over the Christians by the- 3IO REBECCA AND ROWENA. Moslems of Andaluz, on which fatal day Christendom suffered a defeat so signal, that it was feared the Spanish peninsula would be entirely wrested away from the dominion of the Cross, On that day the Franks lost 150,000 men and 30,000 prisoners. A man-slave sold among the unbelievers for a dirhem ; a donkey, for the same ; a sword, half a dirhem ; a horse, five dirhems. Hundreds of thousands of these various sorts of booty were in the possession of the triumphant follow- ers of Yakoob-al-Mansoor. Curses on his head ! But he was a brave warrior, and the Christians before him seemed to forget that they were the descendants of the brave Cid, \.he Kafibitoor, as the Moorish hounds (in their jargon) denominated the famous Campeador. A general move for the rescue of the faithful in Spain — a crusade against the infidels triumphing there, was preached throughout Europe by all the most eloquent clergy ; and thou- sands and thousands of valorous knights and nobles, accom- panied by well-meaning varlets and vassals of the lower sort, trooped from all sides to the rescue. The straits of Gibel- al-Tariff, at which spot the Moor, passing from Barbary, first planted his accursed foot on the Christian soil, were crowded with the galleys of the Templars and the Knights of St. John, who flung succors into the menaced kingdoms of the penin- sula ; the inland sea swarmed with their ships hasting from their forts and islands, from Rhodes and Byzantium, from Jaffa and Askalon. The Pyrenean peaks beheld the pennons and glittered with the armor of the knights marching out of France into Spain ; and, finally, in a ship that set sail direct from Bo- hemia, where Sir Wilfrid happened to be quartered at the time when the news of the defeat of Alarcos came and alarmed all good Christians, Ivanhoe landed at Barcelona, and proceeded to slaughter the Moors forthwith. He brought letters of introduction from his friend Folko of Heydenbraten, the Grand Master of the Knights of Saint John, to the venerable Baldomero de Garbanzos, Grand Master of the renowned order of Saint Jago. The chief of Saint Jago's knights paid the greatest respect to a warrior whose fame was already so widely known in Christendom ; and Ivanhoe had the pleasure of being appointed to all the posts of danger and forlorn hopes that could be devised in his honor. He would be called up twice or thrice in a night to fight tlie Moors : he led ambushes, scaled breaches, was blown up by mines ; was wounded many hundred times (recovering, thanks to the elixir, of which Wamba always carried a suj^ply) ; he was the terror 1VA.NHOE SLAYING THE MOORS. IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 311 of the Saracens, and the admiration and wonder of the Chris- tians. To describe his deeds would, I say, be tedious ; one day's battle was like that of another. I am not writing in ten volumes like Monsieur Alexandre Dumas, or even in three like other great authors. We have no room for the recounting of Sir Wilfrid's deeds of valor. Whenever he took a Moorish town, it •was remarked, that he went anxiously into the Jewish quarter, and inquired amongst the Hebrews, who were in great numbers in Spain, for Rebecca the daughter of Isaac. Many Jews, according to his wont, he ransomed, and created so much scandal by this proceeding, and by the manifest favor which he showed to the people of that nation, that the Master of Saint Jago remonstrated with him, and it is probable he would have been cast into the Inquisition and roasted, but that his pro- digious valor and success against the Moors counterbalanced his heretical partiality for the children of Jacob. It chanced that the good knight was present at the siege of Xixona in Andalusia, entering the breach first, according to his wont, and slaying, with his own hand, the Moorish lieutenant of the town, and several hundred more of its unbelieving defenders. He had very nearly clone for the Alfaqui, or gov- ernor — a veteran warrior with a crooked scimitar and a beard as white as snow — but a couple of hundred of the Alfaqui's body-guard flung themselves between Ivanhoe and their chief, and the old fellow escaped with his life, leaving a handful of his beard in the grasp of the English knight. The strictly military business being clone, and such of the garrison as did not escape put, as by right, to the sword, the good knight, Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, took no further part in the proceedings of the conquerors of that ill-fated place. A scene of horrible massacre and frightful reprisals ensued, and the Christian warriors, hot with victory and flushed with slaughter, were, it is to be feared, as savage in their hour of triumph as ever their heathen enemies had been. Among the most violent and least scrupulous was the fero- cious Knight of Saint Jago, Don Beltran de Cuchilla y Trabuco y Espada y Espelon. Raging through the vanquished city like a demon, "he slaughtered indiscriminately all those infidels of both sexes whose wealth did not tempt him to a ransom, or whose beauty did not reserve them for more frightful calamities than death. The slaughter over, Don Beltran took up his quarters in the Albaycen, where the Alfaqui had lived who had so narrowly escaped the sword of Ivanhoe ; but the wealth, the 312 REBECCA AND ROWENA. treasure, the slaves, and the family of the fugitive chieftain, were left in possession of the conqueror of Xixona. Among the treasures, Don Beltran recognized with a savage joy the coat-armors and ornaments of many brave and unfortunate companionsin-arms who had fallen in the fatal battle of Alarcos. The sight of those bloody relics added fury to his cruel dis- position, and served to steel a heart already but little disposed to sentiments of mercy. Three days after the sack and plunder of the place, Don Beltran was seated in the hall-court lately occupied by the proud Alfaqui, lying in his divan, dressed in his rich robes, the fountains playing in the centre, the slaves of the Moor minister- ing to his scarred and rugged Christian conqueror. Some fanned him with peacocks' pinions, some danced before him, some sang Moor's melodies to the plaintive notes of a guzla, one — it was the only daughter of the Moor's old age, the young Zutulbe, a rosebud of beauty — sat weeping in a corner of the gilded hall : weeping for her slain brethren, the pride of Moslem chivalry, whose heads were blackening in the blazing sunshine on the portals without, and for her father, whose home had been thus made desolate. He and his guest, the English knight Sir Wilfrid, were play- ing at chess, a favorite amusement with the chivalry of the period, when a messenger was announced from Valencia, to treat, if possible, for the ransom of the remaining part of the Alfaqui's family. A grim smile lighted up Don Beltran's features as he bade the black slave admit the messenger. He entered. By his costume it was at once seen that the bearer of the flag of truce was a Jew — the people were employed con- tinually then as ambassadors between the two races at war in Spain. " I come," said the old Jew (in a voice which made Sir Wilfrid start), "from my lord the Alfaqui to my noble seiior, the invincible Don Beltran de Cuchilla, to treat for the ransom of the Moor's only daughter, the child of his old age and the pearl of his affection." " A pearl is a valuable jewel, Hebrew. What does the Moorish dog bid for her ? " asked Don Beltran, still smiling grimly. "The Alfaqui offers 100,000 dinars, twenty-four horses with their caparisons, twenty-four suits of plate-armor, and diamonds and rubies to the amount of 1,000,000 dinars." " Ho, slaves ! " roared Don Beltran, " show the Jew my treasury of gold. How many hundred thousand pieces are IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 3^3 there ? " And ten enormous chests were produced in which the accountant counted i,ooo bags of i,ooo dirhems each, and displayed several caskets of jewels containing such a treasure of rubies, smaragds, diamonds and jacinths, as made the eyes of the aged ambassador twinkle with avarice. " How many horses are there in my stable ? " continued Don Beltran ; and Muley, the master of the horse, numbered three hundred fully caparisoned ; and there was, likewise, armor of the richest sort for as many cavaliers, who followed the banner of this doughty captain, " I want neither money nor armor," said the ferocious knight ; "tell this to the Alfaqui, Jew. And I will keep the child, his daughter, to serve the messes for my dogs, and clean the plat- ters for my scullions." " Deprive not the old man of his child," here interposed the Knight of Ivanhoe j " bethink thee, brave Don Beltran, she is but an infant in years." " She is my captive,«Sir Knight," replied the surly Don Bel- tran ; " I will do with my own as becomes me." "Take 200,000 dirhems!" cried the Jew; "more — any- thing ! The Alfaqui will give his life for his child ! " " Come hither, Zutulbe ! — come hither, thou Moorish pearl ! " 3^elled the furious warrior ; " come closer, my pretty black-eyed houri of heathenesse ! Hast heard the name of Beltran de Espada y Trabuco ? " " There were three brothers of that name at Alarcos, and my brothers slew the Christian dogs ! " said the proud young girl, looking boldly at Don Beltran, who foamed with rage. " The Moors butchered my mother and her little ones, at midnight, in our castle of Murcia," Beltran said. " Thy father fled like a craven, as thou didst, Don Bel- tran ! " cried the high-spirited girl. " By Saint Jago, this is too much ! " screamed the infuriated nobleman ; and the next moment there was a shriek, and the maiden fell to the ground with Don Beltran's dagger in her side. " Death is better than dishonor ! " cried the child, rolling on the blood-stained marble pavement. " I — I spit upon thee, dog of a Christian ! " and with this, and with a savage laugh, she fell back and died. " Bear back this news, Jew, to the Alfaqui," howled the Don, spurning the beauteous corpse with his foot. " I would not have ransomed her for all the gold in Barbary ! " And shud- dering, the old Jew left the apartment, which Ivanhoe quitted likewise. 314 REBECCA AND ROWENA. When they were in the outer court, the knight said to tho Jew, " Isaac of York, dost thou not know me ? " and threw back his hood, and looked at the old man. The old Jew stared wildly, rushed forward, as if to seize his hand, then started back, trembling convulsively, and clutching his withered hands over his face, said, with a burst of grief, " Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe ! — no, no ! — I do not know thee ! " " Holy mother ! what has chanced ? " said Ivanhoe, in his turn becoming ghastly pale ; " where is thy daughter — where is Rebecca ? " " Away from me ! " said the old Jew, tottering. " Away ! Rebecca is — dead ! " ***** When the Disinherited Knight heard that fatal announce- ment, he fell to the ground senseless, and was for some days as one perfectly distraught with grief. He took no nourishment and uttered no word. For weeks he cy^d not relapse out of his moody silence, and when he came partially to himself again, it was to bid his people to horse, in a hollow voice, and to make a foray against the Moors. Day after day he issued out against these intidels, and did nought but slay and slay. He took no plunder as other knights did, but left that to his followers ; he uttered no war-cry, as was the manner of chivalry, and he gave no quarter, insomuch that the " silent knight " became the dread of all the Paynims of Granada and Andalusia, and more fell by his lance than by that of any the most clamorous cap- tains of the troops in arms against them. Thus the tide of bat- tle turned, and the Arab historian. El Makary, recounts how, at the great battle of Al Akab, called by the Spaniards Las Navas, the Christians retrieved their defeat at Alarcos, and ab- solutely killed half a million of Mahometans. Fifty thousand of these, of course, Don Wilfrid took to his own lance ; and it was remarked that the melancholy warrior seemed somewhat more easy in spirits after that famous feat of arms- THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE 315 Chapter VII. THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. In a short time the terrible Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe had killed off so many of the Moors, that though those unbelieving mis- creants poured continual reinforcements into Spain from Bar- bary, they could make no head against the Christian forces, and in fact came into battle quite discouraged at the notion of meet- ing the dreadful silent knight. It was commonly believed amongst them, that the famous Malek Ric, Richard of England, the conqueror of Saladin, had come to life again, and was bat- tling in the Spanish hosts — that this, his second life, was a charmed one, and his body inaccessible to blow of scimitar or thrust of spear — that after battle he ate the hearts and drank the blood of many young Moors for his supper : a thousand wild legends were told of Ivanhoe, indeed, so that the Morisco warriors came half vanquished into the field, and fell an easy prey to the Spaniards, who cut away among them without mercy. And although none of the Spanish historians whom I have consulted make mention of Sir Wilfrid as the real author of the numerous triumphs which now graced the arms of the good cause, this is not in the least to be wondered at, in a na- tion that has always been notorious for bragging, and for the non-payment of their debts of gratitude as of their other obliga- tions, and that writes histories of the Peninsular war with the Emperor Napoleon, without making the slightest mention of his Grace the Duke of Wellington, or of the part taken by Brit- ish VALOR in that transaction. Well, it must be confessed, on the other hand, that we brag enough of our fathers' feats in those campaigns : but this is not the subject at present under con- sideration. To be brief, Ivanhoe made such short work with the unbe- lievers, that the monarch of Aragon, King Don Jayme, saw himself speedily enabled to besiege the city of Valencia, the last stronghold which the Moors had in his dominions, and garrisoned by many thousands of those infidels under the command of their King Aboo Abdallah Mahommed, son of Yakoob-al-Mansoor. The Arabian historian El Makary gives a full account of the military precautions taken by Aboo Abdallah to defend this city ; but as I do not wish to make a parade of my learning, or to write a costume novel, I shall 31 6 REBECCA AND ROWEMA. pretermit any description of the city under the Moorish gov* ernors. Besides the Turks who inhabited it, there dwelt within its walls great store of those of the Hebrew nation, who were always protected by the Moors during their unbelieving reign in Spain ; and who were, as we very well know, the chief physi- cians, the chief bankers, the chief statesmen, the chief artists and musicians, the chief everything, under the Moorish kings. Thus it is not surprising that the Hebrews, having their money, their liberty, their teeth, their lives, secure under the Mahom- etan domination, should infinitely prefer it to the Christian sway ; beneath which they were liable to be deprived of every one of these benefits. Among these Hebrews of Valencia, lived a very ancient Israelite — no other than Isaac of York before mentioned, who came into Spain with his daughter, soon after Ivanhoe's mar- riage, in the third volume of the first part of this history. Isaac was respected by his people for the money which he possessed, and his daughter for her admirable good qualities, her beauty, her charities, and her remarkable medical skill. The young Emir Aboo Abdallah was so struck by her charms, that though she was considerably older than his High- ness, he offered to marry her, and install her as Number i of his wives ; and Isaac of York would not have objected to the union (for such mixed marriages were not uncommon between the Hebrews and Moors in those days), but Rebecca firmly yet respectfully declined the proposals of the prince, saying that it was impossible she should unite herself with a man of a creed different to her own. Although Isaac, was, probably, not over-well pleased at losing this chance of being a father-in-law to a royal highness, yet as he passed among his people for a very strict character, and there were in his family several rabbis of great reputation and severity of conduct, the old gentleman was silenced by this objection of Rebecca's, and the young lady herself applauded by her relatives for her resolute behavior. She took their con- gratulations in a very frigid manner, and said that it was her wish not to marry at all, but to devote herself to the practice of medicine altogether, and to helping the sick and needy of her people. Indeed, although she did not go to any public meetings, she was as benevolent a creature as the world ever saw : the poor blessed her wherever they knew her, and many benefited by her who guessed not whence her gentle bounty came. THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. ■^,^i-^ But there are men in Jewry who admire beauty, and, as I have even heard, appreciate money too, and Rebecca had such a quantity of both, that all the most desirable bachelors of the people were ready to bid for her. Ambassadors came from all quarters to propose for her. Her own uncle, the venerable IJen Solomons, with a beard as long as a Cashmere goat's, and a reputation for learning and piety which still lives in his nation, quarrelled with his son Moses, the red-haired diamond- merchant of Trebizond, and his son Simeon, the bald bill- broker of Bagdad, each putting in a claim for their cousin. Ben Minories came from London and knelt at her feet ; Ben Jochanan arrived from Paris, and thought to dazzle lier with the latest waistcoats from the Palais Royal ; and Ben Jonah brought her a present of Dutch herrings, and besought her to come back and be Mrs. Ben Jonah at the Hague. Rebecca temporized as best she might. She thought her uncle was too old. She besought dear Moses and dear Simeon not to quarrel with each other, and offend their father by press- ing their suit. Ben Minories from London, she said, was too young, and Jochanan from Paris, she pointed out to Isaac of York, must be a spendthrift, or he would not wear those absurd waistcoats. As for Ben Jonah, she said, she could not bear the notion of tobacco and Dutch JHerrings : she wished to stay with her papa, her dear papa. In fine, she invented a thousand excuses for delay, and it was plain that marriage was odious to her. The only man whom she received with anything like favor, was young Bevis Marks of London, with whom she was very familiar. But Bevis had come to her with a certain token that had been given to him by an English knight, who saved him from a faggot to which the furious Hospitaller Folko of Heydenbraten was about to condemn him. It was but a ring, with an emerald in it, that Bevis knew to be sham, and not worth a groat. Rebecca knew about the value of jewels too j but ah ! she valued this one more than all the diamonds in Prester John's turban. She kissed it ; she cried over it ; she wore it in her bosom always ; and when she knelt down night and morning, she held it between her folded hands on her neck. * * * * Young Bevis Marks went away finally no better off than the others ; the rascal sold to the King of France a handsome ruby, the very size of the bit of glass in Rebecca's ring ; but he always said he would rather have had her than ten thousand pounds : and very likely he would, for it was known she would at once have a plum to her fortune. These delays, however, could not continue forever ; and at 21 3i8 REBECCA AND ROIVENA. a great family meeting held at Passover-time, Rebecca was solemnly ordered to choose a husband out of the gentlemen there present ; her aunts pointing out the great kindness which had been shown her by her father, in permitting her to choose for herself. One aunt was of the Solomon faction, another aunt took Simeon's side, a third most venerable old lady — the head of the family, and a hundred and forty-four years of age — was ready to pronounce a curse upon her, and cast her out, unless she married before the month was over. All the jewelled heads of all the old ladies in council, all the beards of all the family, wagged against her : it must have been an awful sight to witness. At last, then, Rebecca was forced to speak. " Kinsmen ! " she said, turning pale, " when the Prince Abou Abdil asked me in marriage, I told you I would not wed but with one of my own faith." " She has turned Turk," screamed out the ladies. " She wants to be a princess, and has turned Turk," roared the rabbis. " Well, well," said Isaac, in rather an appeased tone, " let us hear what the poor girl has got to say. Do you want to marry his royal highness, Rebecca ? Say the word, yes or no." Another groan burst from the rabbis — they cried, shriek- ed, chattered, gesticulated, furious to lose such a prize ; as were the women, that she should reign over them a second Esther. " Silence," cried out Isaac ; " let the girl speak. Speak boldly, Rebecca dear, there's a good girl." Rebecca was as pale a stone. She folded her arms on her breast, and felt the ring there. She looked round all the assembly, and then at Isaac. " Father," she said, in a thrill- ing low steady voice, " I am not of your religion — I am not of the Prince Boabdil's religion — I — I am of his religion." " His ! whose, in the name of Moses, girl ? " cried Isaac. Rebecca clasped her hands on her beating chest and looked round with dauntless eyes. " Of his," she said, " who saved my life and your honor : of my dear, dear champion's. I never can be his, but I will be no other's. Give my money to my kinsmen ; it is that they long for. Take the dross, Simeon and Solomon, Jonah and Jochanan, and divide it among you, and leave me. I will never be yours, I tell you, never. Do you think, after knowing him and hearing him speak, — after watching him wounded on his pillow, and glorious in battle " (her eyes melted and kindled again as she spoke theso THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. 319 words), " I can mate with such as you ? Go. Leave me to myself. I am none of yours. I love him — I love him. Fate divides us — long, long miles separate us ; and I know we will never meet again. But I love and bless him always. Yes, always. My prayers are his ; my faith is his. Yes, my faith is your faith, Wilfrid — Wilfrid ! I have no kindred more,~I am a Christian ! " At this last word there was such a row in the assembly, as my feeble pen would in vain endeavor to depict. Old Isaac staggered back in a fit, and nobody took the least notice of him. Groans, curses, yells of men, shrieks of women, fifled the room with such a furious jabbering, as might have appalled any heart less stout than Rebecca's ; but that brave woman was prepared for all ; expecting, and perhaps hoping, that death would be her instant lot. There was but one creature who pitied her, and that was her cousin and father's clerk, little Ben Davids, who was but thirteen, and had only just begun to carry a bag, and whose crying and boo-hooing, as she finished speaking, was drowned in the screams and maledictions of the elder Israelites. Ben Davids was madly in love with his cousin (as boys often are with ladies of twice their age), and he had presence of mind suddenly to knock over the large brazen lamp on the table, which illuminated the angry con- clave ; then, whispering to Rebecca to go up to her own room and lock herself in, or they would kill her else, he took her hand and led her out. From that day she disappeared from among her people. The poor and the wretched'missed her, and asked for her in vain. Had any violence been done to her, the poorer Jews would have risen and put all Isaac's family to death ; and besides, her old flame, Prince Boabdil, would have also been exceedingly wrathful. She was not killed then, but, so to speak, buried alive, and locked up in Isaac's back kitchen : an apartment into which scarcely any light entered, and where she was fed upon scanty portions of the most mouldy bread and water. Little Ben Davids was the only person who visited her, and her sole consolation was to talk to him about Ivanhoe, and how good and how gentle he was ; how brave and how true ; and how he slew the tremendous knight of the Templars, and how he married a lady whom Rebecca scarcely thought worthy of him, but with whom she pniyed he might be happy; and of what color his eyes were, and what were the arms on his shield — viz. : a tree with the word " Desdichado " written underneath, &c., &c., &c. : all which talk would not have inter- 320 REBECCA AND ROVVENA. ested little Davids, had it come from anybody else's mouth, but to which he never tired of listening as it fell from hei sweet lips. So, in fact, when old Isaac of York came to negotiate with Don Eeltran de Cuchilla for the ransom of the Alfaqui's daughter of Xixona, our dearest Rebecca was no more dead than you and I ; and it was in his rage and fury against Ivan- hoe that Isaac told that cavalier the falsehood which caused the knight so much pain and such a prodigious deal of blood- shed to the Moors : and who knows, trivial as it may seem, whether it was not that very circumstance which caused the destruction in Spain of the Moorish power ? Although Isaac, we may be sure, never told his daughter that Ivanhoe had cast up again, yet Master Ben Davids did, who heard it from his employer; and he saved Rebecca's life by communicating the intelligence, for the poor thing would have infallibly perished but for this good news. She had now been in prison four years three months and twenty-four clays, during which time sh.e had partaken of nothing but bread and water (except such occasional tit-bits as Davids could bring her — and these were few indeed ; for old Isaac was always a curmudgeon, and seldom had more than a pair of eggs for his own and Davids' dinner) ; and she was languishing away, when the news came suddenly to revive her. Then, though in the darkness you could not see her cheeks, they began to bloom again : then her heart began to beat and her blood to flow, and she kissed the ring on her neck a thousand times a day at least ; and her constant question was, " Ben Davids ! Ben Davids ! when is he coming to besiege Valencia ? " She knew he would come : and, indeed, the Christians were encamped before the town ere a month was over. * * * * * * And now, my dear boys and girls, I think I perceive behind that dark scene of the back kitchen (which is just a simple flat, painted stone-color, that shifts in a minute,) bright streaks of light flashing out,'as though they were preparing a most brilliant, gorgeous, and altogether dazzling illumination, with effects never before attempted on any stage. Yes, the fairy in the pretty pink tights and spangled muslin is getting into the brilliant revolving chariot of the realms of bliss. — Yes, most of the fiddlers and trumpeters have gone round from the orchestra to join in the grand triumphal procession, where the whole strength of the company is already assembled, arrayed in costumes of Moorish and Christian chivalry to celebrate THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. 321 the "Terrible Escalade," the "Rescue of Virtuous Innocence '* — the Grand Entry of tlie Christians into Valencia " — " Ap- pearance of the Fairy Day-Star," and " Unexampled displays of pyrotechnic festivity." Do you not, I say, perceive that we are come to the end of our history ; and, after a quantity of rapid and terrific fighting, brilliant change of scenery, and songs, appropriate or otherwise, are bringing our hero and heioine together? Who wants a long scene at the last? Mammas are putting the girls' cloaks and boas on; papas ha\e gone out to look for the carriage, and left the box-door swing- ing open, and letting in the cold air : if there were any stage- conversation, you could not hear it, for the scuffling of the people who are leaving the pit. See, the orange-women are preparing to retire. To-morrow their play -bills will be as so much waste paper — so will some of our masterpieces, woe is me : but lo ! here we come to Scene the last and Valencia is besieged and captured by the Christians. Who is the first on the wall, and who hurls down the green standard of the Prophet ? Who chops off the head of the Emir Aboo What-d'ye-call'im, just as the latter has cut over the cruel Don Beltran de Cuchilla y, &c. ? Who, attracted to the Jewish quarter by the shrieks of the inhabitants who are being slain by the Moorish soldiery, and by a little boy by the name of Ben Davids, who recognizes the knight by his shield, finds Isaac of York egorge on a threshold, and clasping a large back kitchen key ? Who but Ivanhoe — who but Wilfrid ? " An Ivanhoe to the rescue," he bellows out ; he has heard that news from little Ben Davids which makes him sing. And who is it that comes out of the house — trembling — panting — with her arms out — in a white dress — with her hair down — who is it but dear Rebecca ? Look, they rush together, and Master Wamba is waving an immense banner over them, and knocks down a circumambient Jew with a ham, which he happens to have in his pocket. * * * As for Rebecca, now her b.ead is laid upon Ivanhoe's heart, I shall not ask to hear what she is whispering, or describe further that scene of meeting ; though I declare I "am quite affected when I think of it. Indeed I have thought of it any time these five-and-twenty years — ever since, as a boy at school, I commenced the noble study of novels — ever since the day when, lying on sunny slopes of half- holidays, the fair chivalrous figures and beautiful shapes of knights and ladies were visible to me — ever since I grew to love Rebecca, that sweetest creature of the poet's fancy, and longed to see her righted. 22 2 REBECCA AND ROWENA. That she and Ivanhoe were married, follows of course ; for Rowena's promise extorted from him was, that he would never wed a Jewess, and a better Christian than Rebecca now was never said her catechism. Married I am sure they Avere, and adopted little Cedric ; but I don't think they had any other children, or were subsequently very boisterously happy. Of some sort of happiness melancholy is a characteristic, and I think these were a solemn pair, and died rather early. THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. \From a forthcoming History of Europe?\ THE HISTORY OF THE « NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION, [From a forthcoming History of Europe^ Chapter I. It is seldom that the historian has to record events more singular than those which occurred during this year, when the Crown of France was battled for by no less than four pretend- ers, with equal claims, merits, bravery, and popularity. First in the list we place — His Royal Highness Louis Anthony Frederick Samuel Anna-Maria, Duke of Brittany, and son of Louis XVI. The unhappy Prince, when a prisoner with his unfortunate parents in the Temple, was enabled to escape from that place of confinement, hidden (for the treatment of the ruffians who guarded him had caused the young Prince to dwindle down astonishingly) in the cocked-hat of the Repre- sentative, Roederer. It is well known that, in the troublous revolutionary times, cocked-hats were worn of a considerable size. He passed a considerable part of his life in Germany ; was confined there for thirty years in the dungeons of Spielberg ; and, escaping thence to England, was, under pretence of debt, but in reality from political hatred, imprisoned there also in the Tower of London. He must not be confounded with any other of the persons who laid claim to be children of the unfortunate victim of the first Revolution. The next claimant, Henri of Bordeaux, vz better known. 326 THE HlSTOkV OP THE In the year 1843 he held his little fugitive court in furnished lodgings, in a forgotten district of London, called Belgrave Square. Many of the nobles of France flocked thither to him, despising the persecutions of the occupant of the throne ; and some of the chiefs of the British nobility— among \vhGm may be reckoned the celebrated and chivalrous Duke of Jenkins- aided the adventurous young Prince with their counsels, theif wealth, and their valor. The third candidate was his Imperial Highness Prince John Thomas Napoleon — a fourteenth cousin of the late Emperor; and said by some to be a Prince of the House of Gomersal. He argued justly that, as the immediate relatives of the cele- brated Corsican had declined to compete for the crown which was their right, he. Prince John Thomas, being next in succes- sion, was, undoubtedly, heir to the vacant imperial throne. And in support of his claim, he appealed to the fidelity of Frenchmen and the strength of his good sword. His Majesty Louis Philippe was, it need not be said, the illustrious wielder of the sceptre which the three above-named princes desired to wrest from him. It does not appear that the sagacious monarch was esteemed by his subjects, as such a prince should have been esteemed. The light-minded people, on the contrary, were rather weary than otherwise of his sway. They were not in the least attached to his amiable family, for whom his Majesty with characteristic thrift had endea\'ored to procure satisfactory allowances. And the leading statesmen of the country, whom his Majesty had disgusted, w-ere sus- pected of entertaining any but feelings of loyalty towards his house and person. It was against the above-named pretenders that Louis Philippe (now nearly a hundred years old), a prince amongst sovereigns, was called upon to defend his crown. The city of Paris was guarded, as we all know, by a hundred and twenty-four forts, of a thousand guns each — provisioned for a considerable time, and all so constructed as to fire, if need were, upon the palace of the Tuileries. Thus, should the mob attack it, as in August 1792, and July 1830, the building could be razed to the ground in an hour ; thus, too, the capital was quite secure from foreign invasion. Another defence against the foreigners was the state of the roads. Since the English companies had retired, half a mile only of railroad had been completed in France, and thus any army accustomed, as those of Europe now are, to move at sixty miles an hour, would have been ennnyed to death before they could have marched from NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. $27 the Rhenish, the Maritime, the Alpine, or the Pyrenean frontier upon the capital of France. The French people, however, were indignant at this defect of communication in their territory, and said, without the least show of reason, that they would have preferred that the five hundred and seventy-five thousand billions of francs which had been expended upon the fortifica- tions should have been laid out in a more peaceful manner. However, behind his forts, the King lay secure. As it is our aim to depict in as vivid a manner as possible the strange events of the period, the actions, the passions of individuals and parties engaged, we cannot better describe them than by referring to contemporary documents, of which there is no lack. It is amusing at the present day to read in pages of the Aloniteur and the yournal des Debats the accounts of the strange scenes which took place. The year 1884 had opened very tranquilly. The Court of the Tuileries had been extremely gay. The three-and-twenty youngest Princes of England, sons of her Majesty Victoria, had enlivened the balls by their presence ; the Emperor of Russia and family had paid their accustomed visit ; and the King of the Belgians had, as usual, made his visit to his Royal father- in-law, under pretence of duty and pleasure, but really to de- mand payment of the Queen of the Belgians' dowry, which Louis Philippe of Orleans still resolutely declined to pay. Who would have thought that in the midst of such festivity danger was lurking rife, in the midst of such quiet, rebellion? Charenton was the great lunatic asylum of Paris, and it was to this repository that the scornful journalist consigned the pretender to the throne of Louis XVI. But on the next day, viz.: Saturday, the 29th February, the same journal contained a paragraph of a much more startling and serious import ; in which, although under a mask of care- lessness, it was easy to see the Government alarm. On Friday, the 28th February, the yournal des Debats con- tained a paragraph, which did not occasion much sensation at the Bourse, so absurd did its contents seem. It ran as fol- lows : — " Encore un Louis XVII. ! A letter from Calais tells us that a strange personage lately landed from England (from Bedlam we believe) has been giving himself out to be the son of the unfortunate Louis XVI. This is the twenty -fourth pre- tender of the species who has asserted that his father was the august victim of the Temple. Beyond his pretensions, the poor creature is said to be pretty harmless ; he is accompanied 328 THE HISTORY OF THE by one or two old women, who declare they recognize in him the Dauphin ; he does not make any attempt to seize upon liis throne by force of arms, but waits until heaven shall conduct him to it, , "If his Majesty comes to Paris, we ^jresume he will take up his quarters in the palace of Charenton. "We have not before alluded to certain rumors which have been afloat (among the lowest canaille and the vilest csfa7nincts of the metropolis), that a notorious personage — why should we hesitate to mention the name of the Prince John Thomas Napoleon ? — has entered France with culpable intentions, and revolutionary views. The Monitcur of this morning, however, confirms the disgraceful fact. A pretender is on our shores ; an armed assassin is threatening our peaceful liberties ; a wandering, homeless cutthroat is robbing on our highways ; and the punishment of his crime awaits him. Let no consider- ations of the past defer that just punishment ; it is the duty of the legislator to provide for the future. Let the full powers of the law be brought against him, aided by the stern justice of the public force. Let him be tracked, like a wild beast, to lv> lair, and meet the fate of one. But the sentence has, ere this, been certainly executed. The brigand, we hear, has been dis- tributing (without any effect) pamphlets among the low ale- houses and peasantry of the department of the Upper Rhine (in which he lurks) ; and the Police have an easy means of tracking his footsteps. " Corporal Crane, of the Gendarmerie, is on the track of the unfortunate young man. His attempt will only serve to show the folly of the pretenders, and the love, respect, regard, fidelity, admiration, reverence, and passionate personal attach- ment in which we hold our beloved sovereign." " Second Edition ! — Capture of the Prince. " A courier has just arrived at the Tuileries with a report that after a scuffle between Corporal Crane and the ' Imperial Army,' in a water-barrel, whither the latter had retreated, victory has remained with the former. A desperate combat ensued in the first place, in a hay-loft, whence the pretender was ejected with immense loss. He is now a prisoner — and we dread to think what his fate may be ! It will warn future aspirants, and give Europe a lesson which it is not likely to forget. Above all, it will set beyond a doubt the regard, re- spect, admiration, reverence, and adoration which we all feel for our sovereign." NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 329 " Third Edition. " A second courier has arrived. The infatuated CrAne has made common cause with the Prince, and forever forfeited the respect of Frenchmen. A detachment of the 520th Leger has marched in pursuit of the pretender and his dupes. Go, Frencli- men, go and conquer ! Remember that it is our rights you guard, our homes which you march to defend ; our laws which are confided to the points of your unsullied bayonets; — above all, our dear, dear sovereign, around whose throne you rally ! "Our feelings overpower us. Men of the 520th, remember your watchword is Gemappes, — your countersign, Valmy." " The Emperor of Russia and his distinguished family quitted the Tuileries this day. His Imperial Majesty embraced his Majesty the King of the French with tears in his eyes, and conferred upon their RR, HH. the Princes of Nemours and Joinville, the Grand Cross of the Order of the Blue Eagle." " His Majesty passed a review of the Police force. The venerable monarch was received with deafening cheers by this admirable and disinterested body of men. Those cheers were echoed in all French hearts. Long, long may our beloved Prince be among us to receive them ! " Chapter II. HENRY v. AND NAPOLEON III. Stcnday, Feb. ^oih. We resume our quotations from the Debats, which thus in- troduces a third pretender to the throne ; — • " Is this distracted country never to have peace ? While on Friday we recorded the pretensions of a maniac to the great throne of France ; w^hile on Saturday we were compelled to register the culpable attempts of one whom we regard as a ruffian, murderer, swindler, forger, burglar, and common pick- pocket, to gain over the allegiance of Frenchmen — it is to-day our painful duty to announce a third invasion — yes, a third in- vasion. The wretched, superstitious, fanatic Duke of Bordeaux 230 THE HISTORY OF THE has landed at Nantz, and has summoned the Vende'ans and the Bretons to mount the white cockade. "Grand Dieu ! are we not happy under the tricolor? Do we not repose under the majestic shadow of the best of Kings? Is there any name prouder than that of Frenchman ; any sub- ject more happy than that of our sovereign? Does not the whole French family adore their father ? Yes. Our lives, our hearts, our blood, our fortune, are at his disposal : it was not in vain that we raised, it is not the first time we have rallied round, the august throne of July. The unhappy Duke is most likely a prisoner by this time ; and the m.artial court which shall be called upon to judge our infamous traitor and pretender, may at the same moment judge another. Away with both ! let the ditch of Vincennes (which has been already fatal to his race) receive his body, too, and with it the corpse of the other pretender. Thus will a great crime be wiped out of history, and the names of a slaughtered martyr avenged ! " One word more. We hear that the Duke of Jenkins ac- companies the descendant of Caroline of Naples. An English Duke, entendez-voHS ! An English Duke, great heaven ! and the Princes of England still dancing in our royal halls ! Where, where will the perfidy of Albion end ? " '' The King reviewed the third and fourth battalions of Police. The usual heartrending cheers accompanied the monarch, who looked younger than ever we saw him — ay, as young as when he faced the Austrian cannon at Valmy and scattered their squadrons at Gemappes. " Rations of liquor, and crosses of the Legion of Honor, were distributed to all the men. " The English Princes quitted the Tuileries in twenty-three coaches-and-four. They were not rewarded with crosses of the Legion of Honor. This is significant." " The Dukes of Joinville and Nemours left the palace for the departments of the Loire and Upper Rhine, where_ they will take the command of the troops. The Joinville regiment ■ — Cavalerie de la ATarine — is one of the finest in the service." " Orders have been given to arrest the fanatic who calls himself Duke of Brittany, and who has been making some dis- turbances in the^(;j dc Calais^ " Anecdote of His Majesty. — At the review of troops NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 331 (Police) j'esterday, his Majesty, going up to one old grognard and pulling him by the ear, said, ' Wilt thou have a cross or another ration of wine ? ' The old hero, smiling archly, an- swered, ' Sire, a brave man can gain a cross any day of battle, but it is hard for him sometimes to get a drink of wine.' We need not say that he had his drink, and the generous sovereign sent him the cross and ribbon too." On the next day, the Government journals begin to write in father a despondent tone regarding the progress of the pre- tenders to the throne. In spite of their big talking, anxiety is cleatly manifested, as appears from the following remarks of the Debats : " The courier from the Rhine department," say the Debats, " brings us the following astounding Proclamation :— '■' ' Strasburg, xxii. Nivose : Decadi. gsnd year of the Re- public, one and indivisible. We, John Thomas Napoleon, by the constitutions of the Empire, Emperor of the French Re- public, to our marshals, generals, officers, and soldiers, greeting : " ' Soldiers 1 " ' From the summit of the Pyramids forty centuries look down upon you. The sun of Austerlitz has risen once more. The Guard dies, but never surrenders. My eagles, flying from steeple to steeple, never shall droop till they perch on the towers of Notre Dame. " ' Soldiers ! the child of your father has remained long in exile. I have seen the fields of Europe where your laurels are now withering, and I have communed with the dead who repose beneath them. They ask where are our children ? Where is France ? Europe no longer glitters with the shine of its tri- umphant bayonets — echoes no more with the shouts of its vic- torious cannon. Who could reply to such a question save with a blush ?— And does a blush become the cheeks of Frenchmen ? " ' No. Let us wipe from our faces that degrading mark of shame. Come, as of old, and rally round my eagles 1 You have been subject to fiddling prudence long enough. Come, worship now at the shrine of Glory I You have been promised liberty, but you have had none. I will endow you with the true, the real freedom. When your ancestors burst over the Alps, were they not free ? Yes 3 free to conquer. Let us imitate the example of those indomitable myriads ; and, fling- ing a defiance to Europe, once more trample over her ; march in triumph into her prostrate capitals, and bring her kings with 332 THE HISTORY OF THE , " her treasures at our feet. This is the liberty worthy of Frenchmen. " ' Frenchmen ! I promise you that the Rhine shall be restored to you ; and that England shall rank no more among the nations. I will have a marine that shall drive her ships from the seas ; a few of my brave regiments will do the rest. Henceforth the traveller in that desert island shall ask, " Was it this wretched corner of the world that for a thousand years defied Frenchmen ? " " ' Frenchmen, up and rally ! — I have flung my banner to the breezes ; 'tis surrounded by the faithful and the brave. Up, and let our motto be, Liberty, Equality, War all over thk World ! " ' Napoleon III. " * The Marshal of the Empire, Haricot.' " Such is the Proclamation ! such the hopes that a brutal- minded and bloody adventurer holds out to our country. ' W^ar all over the world,' is the cry of the savage demon '; and the fiends who have rallied round him echo it in concert. We were not, it appears, correct in stating that a corporal's guard had been sufficient to seize upon the marauder, when the first fire would have served to conclude his miserable life. But, like a hideous disease, the contagion has spread ; the remedy must be dreadful. Woe to those on whom it will fall ! " His Royal Highness the Prince of Joinville, Admiral of France, has hastened, as we before stated, to the disturbed dis- tricts, and takes with him his Cavalcrie de la ATarme. It is hard to think that the blades of those chivalrous heroes must be buried in the bosoms of Frenchmen : but so be it : it is those monsters who have asked for blood, not we. It is those ruffians who have begun the quarrel, not we. We remain calm and hopeful, reposing under the protection of the dearest and best of sovereigns. " The wretched pretender, who called himself Duke of Brit- tanny, has been seized, according to our prophecy : he was brought before the Prefect of Police yesterday, and his insanity being proved beyond a doubt, he has been consigned to a strait- waistcoat at Charenton. So may all incendiary enemies of our Government be overcome ! " His Royal Highness the Duke of Nemours is gone into the department of the Loire, where he will speedily put an end to the troubles in the disturbed districts of the Bocage and La Vendee. The foolish young Prince, who has there raised his NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION t^^^Z Standard, is followed, we hear, by a small number of wretched persons, of whose massacre we expect every moment to receive the news. He too has issued his Proclamation, and our readers will smile at its contents : " ' We, Henry, Fifth of the Name, King of France and Navarre, to all whom it may concern, greeting : "' After years of exile we have once more unfurled in France the banner of the lilies. Once more the white plume of Henri IV. floats in the crest of his little son (^petit fils) ! Gallant nobles ! worthy burgesses ! honest commons of my realm, I call upon you to rally round the oriflamme of France, and sum- mon the hail arriereban of my kingdoms. To my faithful Bri- tons I need not appeal. The country of Duguesclin has loyalty for an heirloom ! To the rest of my subjects, my atheist mis- guided subjects, their father makes one last appeal. Come to me, my children ! your errors shall be forgiven. Our Holy Father, the Pope, shall intercede for you. He promised it when, before my departure on this expedition, I kissed his in- violable toe ! " ' Our afflicted country cries aloud for reforms. The infa- mous universities shall be abolished. Education shall no longer be permitted. A sacred and wholesome inquisition shall be established. My faithful nobles shall pay no more taxes. All the venerable institutions of our country shall be restored as they existed before 1788. Convents and monasteries again shall ornament our country, — the calm nurseries of saints and holy women ! Heresy shall be extirpated with paternal severity, and our country shall be free once more. "'His Majesty the King of Ireland, my august ally, has sent, under the command of His Royal Highness Prince Daniel, his Majesty's youngest son, an irresistible Irish Brigade, to co-operate in the good work. His Grace the Lion of Judah, the canonized patriarch of Tuam, blessed their green banner before they set forth. Henceforth may the lilies and the harj) be ever twined together. Together we will make a crusade against the infidels of Albion, and raze their heretic domes to the ground. Let our cry be, Vive la Fi'a?ice ! down with Eng- land ! Montjoie St. Denis ! " ' By the King. "'The Secretary of State and Grand Inquisitor.... La Roue. The Marshal of France.... Pompadour de l'Aile de Pigeon. 334 THE HISTOR V OF THE The General Commander- in-chief of the Irish Brigade in the service of his Most Christian Majesty Daniel, Prince of Bally- bunion. 'HENRI.'" " His Majesty reviewed the admirable Police force, and held a council of Ministers in the afternoon. Measures were con- certed for the instant putting down of the disturbances in the departments of the Rhine and Loire, and it is arranged that on the capture of the pretenders, they shall be lodged in separate cells in the prison of the Luxembourg : the apartments are already prepared, and the officers at their posts. "The grand banquet that was to be given at the palace to- day to the diplomatic body, has been put off ; all the ambassa- dors being attacked with illness, which compels them to stay at home." " The ambassadors despatched couriers to their various Governments." " His Majesty the King of the Belgians left the palace of the Tuileries." Chapter III. THE ADVANCE OF THE PRETENDERS — HISTORICAL REVIEW. We will now resume the narrative, and endeavor to com- press, in a few comprehensive pages, the facts which are more diffusely described in the print from which we have quoted. It was manifest, then, that the troubles in the departments were of a serious nature, and that the forces gathered round the two pretenders to the crown were considerable. They had their supporters too in Paris, — as what party indeed has not ? and the venerable occupant of the throne was in a state of con- siderable anxiety, and found his declining years by no means so NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 335 comfortable as his virtues and great age might have war- ranted. His paternal heart was the more grieved when he thought of the fate reserved to his children, grandchildren, and great- grandchildren, now STorung up around him in vast numbers. The King's grandson., the Prince Royal, married to a Princess of the house of Schlippen-Schloppen, was the father of fourteen children, all handsomely endowed with pensions by the State. His brother, the Count D'Eu, was similarly blessed with a mul- titudinous offspring. The Duke of Nemours had no children ; but the Princes of Joinville, Aumale, and Montpensier (married to the Princesses Januaria and Februaria, of Brazil, and the Princess of the United States of America, erected into a mon- airhy, 4th July, 1856, under the Emperor Duff Green I.) were the happy fathers of immense families — all liberally apportioned by the Chambers, which had long been entirely subservient to his Majesty Louis Philippe. The Duke of Aumale was King of Algeria, having married (in the first instance) the Princess Badroulboudour, a daughter of his Highness Abd-El-Kader. The Prince of Joinville was adored by the nation, on account of his famous victory over the English fleet under the command of Admiral the Prince of Wales, whose ship, the " Richard Cobden," of 120 guns, was taken by the " Belle-Poule " frigate of 36 : on which occasion forty-five other ships of war and seventy-nine steam-frigates struck their colors to about one-fourth the number of the heroic French navy. The victory was mainly owing to the gallantry of the celebrated French horse-marines, who executed several brilliant charges under the orders of the intrepid Joinville ; and though the Irish Brigade, with their ordinary modesty, claimed the honors of the day, yet, as only three of that nation were present in the action, impartial history must award the palm to the intrepid sons of Gaul. With so numerous a family quartered on the nation, the solicitude of the admirable King may be conceived, lest a rev- olution should ensue, and fling them on the world once more. How could he support so numerous a family t Considerable as his wealth was, (for he was known to have amassed about a hundred and thirteen billions, which were lying in the caves of the Tuileries,) yet such a sum was quite insignificant when di- vided among his progeny ; and, besides, he naturally preferred getting from the nation as much as his faithful people could possibly afford. Seeing the imminency of the danger, and that money, well 33$ THE HISTORY OF THE applied, is often more efficacious than the conqueror's sword, the King's Ministers were anxious that he should devote a part of his savings to the carrying on of the war. But, with the cautiousness of age, the monarch declined this offer ; he pre- ferred, he said, throwing himself upon his faithful people, who, he was sure, would meet, as became them, the coming exigency. The Chambers met his appeal with their usual devotion. At a solemn convocation of those legislative bodies, the King, sur- rounded by his family, explained the circumstances and the danger. His Majesty, his family, his Ministers, and the two Chambers, then burst into tears, according to immemorial usage, and raising their hands to the ceiling, swore eternal fidelity to the dynasty and to France, and embraced each other afifectingly all round. It need not be said that in the course of that evening two hundred Deputies of the Left left Paris, and joined the Prince John Thomas Napoleon, who was now advanced as far as Dijon : two hundred and fifty-three (of the Right, the Centre, and Round the Corner,) similarly quitted the capital to pay their homage to the Duke of Bordeaux. They were followed, according to their several political predilections, by the various Ministers and dignitaries of State. The only Minister who remained in Paris was Marshal Thiers, Prince of Waterloo (he had defeated the English in the very field where they had obtained formerly* a success, though the victory was as usual claimed by the Irish Brigade) j but age had ruined the health and diminished the immense strength of that gigantic leader, and it is said his only reason for remaining in Paris was because a fit of the gout kept him in bed. The capital was entirely tranquil. The theatres and cafes were open as usual, and the masked balls attended with great enthusiasm : confiding in their hundred and twenty-four forts, the light-minded people had nothing to fear. Except in the Vv'ay of money, the King left nothing undone to conciliate his people. He even went among them with his umbrella \ but they were little touched with that mark of confi- dence. He shook hands with everybody ; he distributed crosses of the Legion of Honor in such multitudes, that red ribbon rose two hundred per cent, in the market (by which his Majesty, who speculated in the article, cleared a tolerable sum of money). But these blandishments and honors had little effect upon an apathetic people ; and the enemy of the Orleans dynasty, the fashionable young nobles of the Henriquinquiste party, wore gloves perpetually, for fear (they said) that they should be NEJ{T FRENCH REVOLUTION. 337 obliged to shake hands with the best of Icings ; while the Republicans adopted coats without button-holes, lest they should be forced to hang red ribbons in them. The funds did not fluctuate in the least. The proclamations of the several pretenders had had their effect. The young men of the schools and the eslaminets (celebrated places of public education) allured by the noble words of Prince Napoleon, " Liberty, equality, war all over the world ! " flocked to his standard in considerable numbers : while the noblesse naturally hastened to offer their allegiance to the legitimate descendant of Saint Louis. And truly, never was there seen a more brilliant chivalry than that collected round the gallant Prince Henry ! There was not a man in his army but had lackered boots and fresh white kid-gloves at morning and evening parade. The fantastic and effeminate but brave and faithful troops were numbered off into different legions : there was the Fleur-d'Orange regiment j the Eau-de-Rose battalion ; the Violet-Pomatum volunteers ; the Eau-de-Cologne cavalry — according to the different scents which they affected. Most of the warriors wore lace ruffles \ all powder and pigtails, as in the real days of chivalry. A band of heavy dragoons under the command of Count Alfred de Horsay made themselves conspicuous for their discipline, cruelty, and the admirable cut of their coats ; and with these celebrated horsemen came from England the illustrious Duke of Jenkins with his superb footmen. They were all six feet high. They all wore bouquets of the richest flowers : they wore bags, their hair slightly powdered, brilliant shoulder-knots, and cocked-hats laced with gold. They wore the tight knee- pantaloon of velveteen peculiar to this portion of the British infantry; and their legs were so superb, that the Duke of Bor- deaux, embracing with tears their admirable leader on parade, said, "Jenkins, France never saw such calves until now." The weajDon of this tremendous militia was an immense club, or cane, reaching from the sole of the foot, to the nose, and heavily mounted with gold. Nothing could stand before this terrific weapon, and the breastplates and plumed morions of the French cuirassiers would have been undoubtedly crushed beneath them, had they ever met in mortal combat. Between this part of the Prince's forces and the Irish auxiliaries there was a deadly animosity-. Alas, there always is such in camps ! The sons of Albion had not forgotten the day when the children of Erin had been subject to their devastating sway. The uniform of the uitter was various — the rich stuff called 338 THE HISTORY OF THE corps-du-7-oy (worn by Cceur de Lion at Agincourt) formed their lower habiliments for the most part : the national frieze ^ yielded them tailcoats. The latter were generally torn in a fantastic manner at the elbows, skirts, and collars, and fastened with every variety of button, tape, and string. Their weapons fwere the caubeen, the alpeen, and the doodeen of the country — the latter a short but dreadful weapon of offence. At the demise of the venerable Theobald Mathew, the nation had laid aside its habit of temperance, and universal intoxication be- tokened their grief ; it became afterwards their constant habit. Thus do men ever return to the haunts of their childhood ; such a power has fond memory over us ! The leaders of this host seem to have been, however, an effeminate race ; they are represented by contemporary historians as being passionately fond oi flying kites. Others say they went into battle armed with " bills," no doubt rude weapons ; for it is stated that foreigners could never be got to accept them in lieu of their own arms. The Princes of Mayo, Donegal, and Connemara, marched by the side of their young and royal chieftain, the Prince of Ballybunion, fourth son of Daniel the First, King of the Emerald Isle. Two hosts then, one under the Eagles, and surrounded by the republican imperialists, the other under the antique P'rencli Lilies, were marching on the French capital. The Duke of Brittany, too, confined in the lunatic asylum of Charenton, found means to issue a protest against his captivity, which caused only derision in the capital. Such was the state of the empire, and such the clouds that were gathering round the Sun of Orleans 1 Chapter IV. THE BATTLE OF RHEIMS. It was not the first time that the King had had to undergo misfortunes ; and now, as then, he met them like a man. The Prince of Joinville was not successful in his campaign against the Imperial Pretender : and that bravery which had put the British fleet to flight, was found, as might be expected, insufli- ■* Were these in any way related to the Chevat(x-de-/rue on ■which the French Cavalry were mounted? NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION. , 39 cient against the irresistible courage of native Frenchmen. The Horse Marines, not being on their own element, could not act with their usual effect. Accustomed to the tumult of the sweUing seas, they were easily unsaddled on terra Jinna and in the champagne country. • It was literally in the Champagne country that the meeting between the troops under Joinville and Prince Napoleon took place ! for both armies had reached Rheims, and a terrific battle was fought underneath the walls. For sometime nothing could dislodge the army of Joinville, entrenched in the cham- pagne cellars of Messrs. Ruinart, Moet, and others ; but making too free with the fascinating liquor, the army at length became entirely drunk : on which the Imperialists, rushing into the cellars, had an easy victory over them; and, this done, proceeded to intoxicate themselves likewise. The Prince of Joinville, seeing the deroiite of his troops, was compelled with a few faithful followers to fly towards Paris, and Prince Napoleon remained master of the field of battle. It is needless to recapitulate the bulletin which he published the day after the occasion, so soon as he and his secretaries were in a condition to write : eagles, pyramids, rainbows, the sun of Austerlitz, ^c, figured in the proclamation, in close im- itation of his illustrious uncle. But the great benefit of the action was this : on arousing from their intoxication, the late soldiers of Joinville kissed and embraced their comrades of the Imperial army, and made common cause with them. " Soldiers ! " said the Prince, on reviewing them the second day after the action, " the Cock is a gallant bird ; but he makes way for the Eagle ! Your colors arc not changed. Ours floated on the walls of Moscow — yours on the ramparts of Constantine ; both are glorious. Soldiers of Joinville ! we give you welcome, as we would welcome your illustrious leader, who destroyed the fleets of Albion. Let him join us! We will march together against that perfidious enemy. " But, Soldiers ! intoxication dimmed the laurels of yester- day's glorious day ! Let us drink no more of the fascinating liquors of our native Champagne. Let us remember Hannibal and Capua ; and, before we plunge into dissipation, that we have Rome still to conquer! "Soldiers! Seltzer-water is good after too much drink. Wait awhile, and your Emperor will lead you into a Seltzer- water countr)'. Frenchmen ! it lies bey(!>nd the Rhine ! " Deafening shouts of " ^--/V^' /'^w/tw;." And this joke set them all a-laughing ready to die. I didn't know then what a good joke it was, neither ; but I gave Master Baron, that day, a precious good beating, and walked off with no less than fifteen shillings of his money. As a sporting man, and a man of fashion, I need not say that I took in the Flare-up regularly ; ay, and wrote one or two trifles in that celebrated publication (one of my papers, which Tagrag subscribed for me, Philo-pestitia;amicus, on the proper sauce for teal and widgeon — and the other, signed Scru-tatos, on the best means of cultivating the kidney species of that veg- etable — made no small noise at the time, and got me in the paper a compliment from the editor). I was a constant reader of the Notices to Correspondents, and, my early education having been raythg^neglected, (for I was taken from my stud- ies and set, as is the custom in our trade, to practice on a sheep's head at the tender age of nine years, before I was al- lowed to venture on the humane countenance,) — I say, being thus curtailed and cut off in my classical learning, I must con- fess I managed to pick up a pretty smattering of 'genteel infor- mation from that treasury of all sorts of knowledge ; at least sufficient to make me a match in learning for all the noblemen and gentlemen who came to our house. Well, on looking over the Flare-up notices to correspondents, I read, one day last April, among the notices, as follows : — " ' Automodon.' We do not know the precise age of Mr. Baker of Covent Garden Theatre ; nor are we aware if that celebrated son of Thespis is a married man. " ' Ducks and Green-peas ' is informed, that when A plays his rook to B's second Knight's square, and B, moving two squares with his Queen's pawn, gives check to his adversary's Queen, there is no reason why B's Queen should not take A's pawn, if B be so inclined. " ' F. L. S.' We have repeatedly answered the question about Madame Vestris : her maiden name was Bartolozzi, and she married the son of Charles Mathews, the celebrated come- dian. " ' Fair Play.' The best amateur billiard and ecarte player in England, is Coxe Tuggeridge Coxe, Esq., of Portland Place, and Tuggeridgeville : Jonathan, who knows his play, can only give him two in a game of a hundred ; and, at the cards, no man is I:"3 superior. Verbum Sap. 374 COX'S DIARY. " ' Scipio Americanus ' is a blockhead." I read this out to the Count and Tagrag, and both of them wondered how the Editor of that tremendous Flare-up should get such information ; and both agreed that the Baron, who still piqued himself absurdly on his play, would be vastly an- noyed by seeing me preferred thus to himself. We read him the paragraph, and preciously angry he was. " Id is," he cried, " the tables " (or "de dahch;' as he called them),— " de horrid dabels ; gum viz me to London, and dry a slate-table, and I vill beat you." We all roared at this ; and the end of this dis- pute was, that, just to satisfy the fellow, I agreed to play his Excellency at slate-tables, or any tables he chose. " Gut," says he, " gut ; I lif, you know, at Abednego's, in de Quadrant ; his dabels is goot ; ve vill blay dere, if you vill." And I said I would : and it was agreed that, one Saturday night, when Jemmy was at the Opera, we should go to the Baron's rooms, and give him a chance. # We went, and the little Baron had as fine a supper as ever I saw : lots of Champang (and I didn't mind drinking it), and plenty of laughing and fun. Afterwards, down we went to billiards. " Is dish Misther Coxsh, de shelebrated player ? " says Mr. Abednego, who was in the room, with one or two gentlemen of his own persuasion, and several foreign noblemen, dirty, snuffy, and hairy, as them foreigners are. " Is dish Misther Coxsh ? blesh my hart, it is a honer to see you ; I have heard so much of your play." " Come, come," says I, " sir " — for I'm pretty wide awake — "none of your gammon ; you're not going to hook mey " No, begar, dis fish you not catch," says Count Mace. " Dat is gut ! — haw ! haw ! " snorted the Baron. " Hook him ! Lieber Himmel, you might dry and hook me as well. Haw ! haw ! " Well, we went to play. " Five to four on Coxe," screams out the Count. — " Done and done," says another nobleman. " Ponays," says the Count. — " Done," says the nobleman. " I vill take your six crowns to four," says the Baron. — " Done," says I. And, in the twinkling of an eye, I beat him ; once making thirteen off the balls without stopping. We had some more wine after this ; and if you could have seen the long faces of the other noblemen, as they pulled out their pencils and wrote I. O. U.'s for the Count ! " Va toujours, mon cher," says he to me, "you have von for me three hundred pounds." •'I'll blay you guineas dis time," says the Baron, " Zeven A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA. 375 to four you must give me though." And so I did : and in ten minutes that game was won, and the Baron handed over his pounds. " Two hundred and sixty more, my dear, dear Coxe," says the Count ; " you are mon ange gardien ! " " Wot a flat Misther Coxsh is, not to back his luck," I heard Abednego whisper to one of the foreign noblemen. " I'll take vour seven to four, in tens," said I to the Baron. " Give me three," says he, " and done." I gave him three, and: lost the game by one. " Dobbel, or quits," says he. "Go it," says I, up to my mettle : " Sam Coxe never says no ; " — and to it we went. I went in, and scored eighteen to his five, " Holy Moshesh ! " says Abednego, " dat little Coxsh is a vender ! who'll take odds ? " "I'll give twenty to one," says I, " in guineas." " Ponays \ yase, done," screams out the Count. '■'■ Bonies, done," roars out the Baron : and, before I could speak, went in, and — would you believe it ? — in two minutes he somehow made the game ! ***** Oh, what a figure I cut when my dear Jemmy heard of this afterwards ! In vain I swore it was guineas : the Count and the Baron swore to ponies ; and when I refused, they both said their honor was concerned, and they must have my life, or their money. So when the Count showed me actually that, in spite of this bet (which had been too good to resist) won from me, he had been a very heavy loser by the night; and brought me the word of honor of Abednego, his Jewish friend, and the foreign noblemen, that ponies had been betted ; — why, I paid them one thousand pounds sterling of good and lawful money. — But I've not played for money since : no, no; catch me at that again if you can. A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA. No lady is a lady without having a box at the Opera : so my Jemmy, who knew as much about music, — bless her ! — as I do about Sanscrit, algebra, or any other foreign language, took a prime box on the second tier. It was what they called a double box ; it really could hold two, that is, very comfortably ; and we got it a great bargain — for five hundred a year! Here, Tuesdays and Saturdays, we used regularly to take our 376 COX'S DIARY. places, Jemmy and Jemimarann sitting in front ; me, behind : but as my dear wife used to wear a large fantail gauze hat with ostrich feathers, birds of paradise, artificial flowers, and tags of muslin or satin, scattered all over it, I'm blest if she didn't fill the whole of the front of the box ; and it was only by jumping and dodging, three or four times in the course of the night, that I could manage to get a sight of the actors. By kneeling clown, and looking steady under my darling Jemmy's sleeve, I dill contrive, every now and then, to have a peep of Senior Lablash's boots, in the " Puritanny," and once actually saw Madame Gerasi's crown and head-dress in " Annybalony." What a place that Opera is, to be sure ! and what enjoy- ments us aristocracy used to have ! Just as you have swal- lowed down your three courses (three curses I used to call them ; — for so, indeed, they are, causing a deal of heartburns, headaches, doctor's bills, pills, want of sleep, and such) — ^just, I say, as you get down your three courses, which I defy any man to enjoy properly unless he has two hours of drink and quiet afterwards, up comes the carriage, in bursts my Jemmy, as fine as a duchess, and scented like our shop. " Come, my dear," says she, " it's ' Normy ' to-night " (or " Annybalony," or the " Nosey di Figaro," or the " Gazzylarder," as the case maybe). *' Mr. Coster strikes off punctually at eight, and you know it's the fashion to be always present at the very first bar of the aperture." And so oft" we are obliged to budge, to be mis- erable for five hours, and to have a headache for the next twelve, and all because it's the fashion ! After the aperture, as they call it, comes the opera, which, as I am given to understand, is the Italian for singing. Why t'ley should sing in Italian, I can't conceive ; or why they should do nothing but sing. Bless us ! how I used to long for the wooden magpie in the "Gazzylarder" tofiyup to the top of the church-steeple, with the silver spoons, and see the chaps with the pitchforks come in and carry off that wicked Don June. Not that I don't admire Lablash, and Rubini, and his brother, Tomrubini : him who has that fine bass voice, I mean, and acts tlie Corporal in the first piece, and Don June in the second ; but three hours is a iitt/e too much, for you can't sleep on those little rickety seats in the boxes. The opera is bad enough ; but what is that to the bally ? You should have seen my Jemmy the first night when she stopped to see it ; and when Madamsalls Fanny and Theresa Hustler came forward, along with a gentleman, to dance, you should have seen how Jemmy stared, and our girl blushed, A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA. 377 when Madamsall Fanny, coming forward, stood on the tips of only five of her toes, and raising up the other five, and the foot belonging to them, almost to her shoulder, twirled round, and round, and round, like a teetotum, for a couple of minutes or more ; and as she settled down, at last, on both feet, in a natu- ral decent posture, you should have heard how the house roared with applause, the boxes clapping with all their might, and wav- ing their handkerchiefs ; the pit shouting, " Bravo ! " Some people, who, I suppose, were rather angry at such an exhibition, threw bunches of flowers at her ; and what do you think she did ? Why, hang me, if she did not come forward, as though nothing had happened, gather up the things they had thrown at her, smile, press them to her heart, and begin whirling round asain, faster than ever. Talk about coolness, / never saw such in all my born days. " Nasty thing ! " says Jemmy, starting up in a fury ; " if women will act so, it serves them right to be treated so." " Oh, yes ! she acts beautifully," says our friend his Ex- cellency, who, along with Baron von Punter and Tagrag, used very seldom to miss coming to our box. " She may act very beautifully, Munseer, but she don't dress so ; and I am very glad they threw that orange-peel and all those things at her, and that the people waved to her to get off." Here his Excellency, and the Baron and Tag, set up a roar of laughter. " My dear Mrs. Coxe," says Tag, " those are the most fa- mous dancers in the world ; and we throw myrtle, geraniums, and lilies and roses at them, in token of our immense admira- tion ! " " Well, I never ! " said my wife ; and poor Jemimarann slunk behind the curtain, and looked as red as it almost. After the one had done, the next begun ; but when, all of a sudden, a somebody came skipping and bounding in, like an india-rubber ball, flinging itself up, at least six feet from the stage, and there shaking about its legs like mad, we were more astonished than ever ! " That's Anatole," says one of the gentlemen. " Anna who ? " says my wife ; and she might well be mis- taken : for this person had a hat and feathers, a bare neck and arms, great black ringlets, and a little calico frock, which came down to the knees. " Anatole. You would not think he was sixty-three years old, he's as active as a man of twenty." 37S COX'S DIARY. ^'- He ! " shrieked out my wife ; " what, is that there a man ? For shame ! Munseer. Jemimarann, dear, get your cloak, and come along ; and I'll thank you, my dear, to call our people, and let us go home." You wouldn't think, after this, that my Jemmy, who had shown such a horror at the bally, as they call it, should ever grow accustomed to it ; but she liked to hear her name shout ed out in the crush-room, and so would stop till the end of everything ; and, law bless you ! in three weeks from that time, she could look at the ballet as she would at a dancing-dog in the streets, and would bring her double-barrelled opera-glass up to her eyes as coolly as if she had been a born duchess. As for me, I did at Rome as Rome does ; and precious fun it used to be, sometimes. My friend the Baron insisted one night on my going behind the scenes ; where, being a subscriber, he said I had what they call my ontray. Behind, then, I went ; and such a place you never saw nor heard of ! Fancy lots of young and old gents of the fashion crowding round and staring at the actresses prac- tising their steps. Fancy yellow snuffy foreigners, chattering always, and smelling fearfully of tobacco. Fancy scores of Jews, with hookednoses and black muzzles, covered with rings, chains, sham diamonds, and gold waistcoats. Fancy old men dressed in old night-gowns, with knock-knees, and dirty flesh- colored cotton stockings, and dabs of brick-dust on their wrinkled old chops, and tow-wigs (such Avigs !) for the bald ones, and great tin spears in their hands mayhap, or else shepherds' crooks, and fusty garlands of flowers made of red and green baize. Fancy troops of girls giggling, chattering, pushing to and fro, amidst old black canvas, Gothic halls, thrones, paste- board Cupids, dragons, and such like. Such dirt, darkness, crowd, confusion and gabble of all conceivable languages was never known ! If you could but have seen Munseer Anatole ! Instead of looking twenty he looked a thousand. The old man's wig was ofif, and a barber was giving it a touch with the tongs ; Munseer was taking snuff himself, and a boy was standing by with a pint of beer from the public-house at the corner of Charles Street. I met with a little accident during the three-quarters of an hour which they allow for the entertainment of us men of fashion on the stage, before the curtain draws up for the bally, while the ladies in the boxes are gaping, and the people in the pit are drumming with their feet and canes in the rudest man- ner possible, as though they couldn't wait. STRIKING A BALANCE. 379 Just at the moment before the little bell rings and the cur- tain flies up, and we scuffle off to the sides (for we always stay till the very last moment), I was in the middle of the stage, making myself very affable to the fair figgerantys which was spinning and twirling about me, and asking them if they wasn't cold, and such like politeness, in the most condescending way possible, when a bolt was suddenly withdrawn, and down I popped, through a trap in the stage, into the place below. Luckily, I was stopped by a piece of machinery, consisting of a heap of green blankets and a young lady coming up as Venus rising from the sea. If I had not fallen so soft, I don't know what might have been the consequence of the collusion. I never told Mrs. Coxe, for she can't bear to hear of my paying the least attention to the fair sex. STRIKING A BALANCE. Next door to us, in Portland Place, lived the Right Honor- able the Earl of Kilblazes, of Kilmacrasy Castle, county Kil- dare, and his mother, the Dowager Countess. Lady Kilblazes had a daughter. Lady Juliana Matilda Mac Turk, of the exact age of our dear Jemimarann ; and a son, the Honorable Arthur Wellington Anglesea Blucher Bulow Mac Turk, only ten months older than our boy Tug. My darling Jemmy is a woman of spirit, and, as become her station, made every possible attempt to become acquainted with the Dowager Countess of Kilblazes, which her ladyship (because, forsooth, she was the daughter of the Minister, and Prince of Wales's great friend, the Earl of Portansherry) thought fit to reject. I don't wonder at my Jemmy growing so angry with her, and determining, in every way, to put her ladyship down. The Kilblazes' estate is not so large as the Tuggeridge prop- erty by two thousand a year at least ; and so my wife, when our neighbors kept only two footmen, was quite authorized in having three ; and she made it a point, as soon as ever the Kilblazes' carriage-and-pair came round, to have out her own carriage-and-four. Well, our box was next to theirs at the Opera ; only twice as big. Whatever masters went to Lady Juliana, came to my Jemimarann ; and what do you think Jemmy did ? she got he? 380 COX'S DIARY. celebrated governess, Madame de Flicflac, away from the Countess, by offering a double salary. It was quite a treasure, they said, to have Madame Flicflac : she had been (to support her father, the Count, when he emigrated) a F7-ench dancer at the Italian Opera. French dancing, and Italian, therefore, we had at once, and in the best style : it is astonishing how quick and well she used to speak — the French especially. Master Arthur Mac Turk was at the famous school of the Reverend Clement Coddler, along with a hundred and ten other young fashionables, from the age of -three to fifteen ; and to this establishment Jemmy sent our Tug, adding forty guineas to the hundred and twenty paid every year for the boarders. I think I found out the dear soul's reason ; for, one day, speak- ing about the school to a mutual acquaintance of ours and the Kilblazes, she whispered to him that "she never would have thought of sending her darling boy at the rate which her next- door neighbors paid ; their lad, she was sure, must be starved : however, poor people, they did the best they could on their income ! " Coddler's, in fact, was the tip-top school near London ; he had been tutor to the Duke of Euckminster, who had set him up in the school, and, as I tell you, all the peerage and respect- able commoners came to it. You read in the bill, (the snopsis, I think, Coddler called it,) after the account of the charges for board, masters, extras, &c. — " Every young nobleman (or gentleman) is expected to bring a knife, fork, spoon and goblet of silver (to prevent breakage), which will not be returned ; a dressing-gown and slippers ; toilet-box, pomatum, curling-irons, &c., &c. The pupil must on no account be allowed to have more then ten guineas of pocket-money, unless his parents l^articularly desire it, or he be above fifteen years of age. IVine will be an extra charge ; as are warm, vapor, and douche baths. Carriage exercise will be provided at the rate of fifteen guineas per quarter. It is earnestly 7'eqttested that no young nobleman (or gentleman) be allowed to smoke. In a place devoted to the cultivation 0/ polite literature, such an ignoble enjoyment were profane. " Clement Coddler, M. A., " Chaplain and late tutor to his Grace the " Mount Parnassus, Richmond, Surrey. Duke of Buckminster." To this establishment our Tug was sent. " Recollect, my dear," said his mamma, " that you are a Tuggeridge by birth, and tiUit I expect you to beat all the boys in the school ; espe- STRIKING A BALANCE. 381 cially that Wellington Mac Turk, who, though he is a lord's son, is nothing to you, who are the heir of Tuggeridgeville." Tug was a smart young fellow enough, and could cut and curl as well as any young chap of his age : he was not a bad hand at a wig either, and could shave, too, very prettily ; but that was in the old time, when we were not great people : when he came to be a gentleman, he had to learn Latin and Greek, and had a deal of lost time to make up for, on going to school. However, we had no fear ; for the Reverend Mr. Coddler used to send monthly accounts of his pupil's progress, and if Tug was not a wonder of the world, I don't know who was. It was General behavior .... excellent. English ..... very good. French ...... tres bien. Latin ..... optime. And so on : — he possessed all the virtues, and wrote to us every month for money. My dear Jemmy and I determined to go and see him, after he had been at school a quarter ; we went, and were shown by Mr, Coddler, one of the meekest, smilingest little men I ever saw, into the bedrooms and eating- rooms (the dromitaries and refractories he called them), which were all as comfortable as comfortable might be. " It is a holiday to-day," said Mr. Coddler ; and a holiday it seemed to be. In the dining-room were half a dozen young gentlemen playing at cards (" All tip-top nobility," observed Mr. Coddler;) — in the bedrooms there was only one gent : he was lying on his bed, reading novels and smoking cigars. " Extraordinary genius ! " whispered Coddler. " Honorable Tom Fitz-Warter, cousin of Lord Byron's ; smokes all day ; and has written the sweetest poems you can imagine. Genius, my dear madam, you know — genius must have its way." " Well, iipon my word," says Jemmy, " if that's genius, I had rather that Master Tug- geridge Coxe Tuggeridge remained a ckiU fellow." " Impossible, my dear madam," said Coddler. " Mr, Tug- geridge Coxe couhMt be stupid if he fricdy Just then up comes Lord Claude Lollypop, third son of the Marquis of AUycompane, We were introduced instantly : " Lord Claude Lollypop, Mr, and Mrs. Coxe." The little lord wagged his head, my wife bowed very low, and so did Mr. Coddler ; who, as he saw my lord making for the playground, begged him to show us the way. — " Come along," says my lord • and as he walked before us, whistling, we had leisure to remark the beautiful holes in his jacket, and elsewhere. 2 382 COX'S DIARY. About twenty young noblemen (and gentlemen) were gathered round a pastry-cook's shop at the end of the green. "That's the grub-shop," said my lord, "where we young gentlemen wot has money buys our wittles, and them young gentlemen wot has none, goes tick." Then we passed a poor red-haired usher sitting on a bench alone. " That's Mr. Hicks, the Husher, ma'am," says my lord. " We keep him, for he's very useful to throw stones at, and he keeps the chaps' coats when there's a fight, or a game at cricket. — Well, Hicks, how's your mother? what's the row now?" *' I believe, my lord," said the usher, very meekly, " there is a pugilistic encounter somewhere on the premises — the Honora- ble Mr. Mac " " Oh ! cojue along," said Lord Lollypop, " come along ; this way, ma'am ! Go it, ye cripples ! " And my lord pulled up my dear Jemmy's gown in the kindest and most familiar way, she trotting on after him, mightily pleased to be so taken no- tice of, and I after her. A little boy went running across the green. " Who is it, Petitoes ? " screams my lord. " Turk and the barber," pipes Petitoes, and runs to the pastry-cook's like mad. " Turk and the ba ," laughs out my lord' looking at us. " Hurra ! this way, ma'am ! " And turning round a cor- ner, he opened a door into a court-yard, where a number of boys were collected, and a great noise of shrill voices might be heard. " Go it, Turk ! " says one. " Go it, barber ! " says another. " Punch hith life out ! " roars another, whose voice was just cracked, and his clothes half a yard too short for him ! Fancy our horror when, on the crowd making way, we saw Tug pummelling away at the Honorable Master MacTurk ! My dear Jemmy, who don't understand such things, pounced upon the two at once, and, with one hand tearing away Tug, sent him back into the arms of his seconds, while, with the other, she clawed hold of Master MacTurk's red hair, and as soon as she got her second hand free, banged it about his face and ears like a good one. " You nasty — wicked — quarrelsome — aristocratic " (each word was a bang) — " aristocratic — oh ! oh ! oh ! " — Here the words stopped ; for what with the agitation, maternal solicitude, and a dreadful kick on the shins which, I am ashamed to say, Master MacTurk administered, my dear Jemmy could bear it no longer, and sunk fainting away in my arms. D O WN A T BEULAIl. 3S3 DOWN AT BEULAIl. Although there was a regular cut between the next-door people and us, yet Tug and the Honorable Master MacTurk kept up their acquaintance over the back-garden wall, and in the stables, where they were lighting, making friends, and play- ing tricks from morning to night, during the holidays. Indeed, it was from young Mac that we first heard of Madame de Flicflac, of whom my Jemmy robbed Lady Kilblazes, as I before have related. When our friend the Baron first saw Madame, a very tender greeting passed between them ; for they had, as it appeared, been old friends abroad. " Sapristie," said the Baron, in his lingo, "que fais-tu ici, Amenaide .'' " '' Et toi, mon pauvre Chicot," says she, "est-ce qu'on t'a mis a la retraite ? " II parait qu tu n'est plus General chez Franco — " " Chut I'' says the Baron, putting his finger to his lips. "What are they saying, my dear.''" says my wife to Jem- imarann, who had a pretty knowledge of the language by this time. "I don't know what '■Sapristie'' means, mamma; but the Baron asked Madame what she was doing here ? and Madame said, ' And you, Chicot, you are no more a General at Franco.' — Have I not translated rightly, Madame ? " " Oui, mon chou, mon ange. Yase, my angel, my cabbage, quite right. Figure yourself, I have known my dear Chicot dis twenty years." " Chicot is my name of baptism," says the Baron ; " Baron Chicot de Punter is my name." " And being a General at Franco," says Jemmy, "means, I suppose, being a French General ? " " Yes, I vas," said he, " General Baron de Punter — n'est 'a pas, Amenaide ? " "Oh, yes!" said Madame Flicflac, and laughed; and I and Jemmy laughed out of politeness : and a pretty laughing matter it was, as you shall hear. About this time my Jemmy became one of the Lady-Patron- esses of that admirable institution, "The Washerwoman's Orphans Home ; " Lady de Sudley was the great projector of it ; and the manager and chaplain, the excellent and Reverend Sidney Slopper. His salary, as chaplain, and that of Doctor Leitch, the physician (both cousins of her ladyship's), drew awaj 384 COX'S DIARY. five hundred pounds from the six subscribed to the Charity : and Lady de Sudley thought a fete at Beulah Spa, with the aid of some of the foreign princes who were in town last year, might bring a Uttle more money into its treasury. A tender appeal was accordingly drawn up, and published in all the papers : — ■ "APPEAL. "BRITISH WASHERWOMAN'S-ORPHANS' HOME. *' The ' Washerwoman's-Orphans' Home ' has now been es- tablished seven years : and the good which it has effected is, it may be confidently stated, incaladabk. Ninety-eight orphan children of Washerwomen have been lodged within its walls. One hundred and two British Washerwomen have been relieved when in the last state of decay. One hundred and ninety- eight THOUSAND articles of male and female dress have been washed, mended, buttoned, ironed, and mangled in the Estab- lishment. And by an arrangement with the governors of the Foundling, it is hoped that the Baey-linen of that Hospital will be confided to the British Washerwoman's Home ! "With such prospects before it, is it not sad, is it not lamentable to think, that the Patronesses of the Society have been compelled to reject the applications of no less than three thousand eight hundred and one British Washerwomen, from lack of means for their support 1 Ladies of England 1 Mothers of England ! to you we appeal. Is there one of you that will not respond to the cry in behalf of these deserving members of our sex ? " It has been determined by the Ladies-Patronesses to give a fete at Beulah Spa, on Thursday, July 25 ; which will be graced with the first foreign and native talent ; by the first foreign and native rank ; and where they beg for the attend- ance of every washerwoman's friend." Her Highness the Princess of Schloppenzollernschwigma- ringen, the Duke of Sacks-Tubbingen, His Excellency Baron Strumpff, His Excellency Lootf-Allee-Koolee-Bismillah-Mo- hamed-Rusheed- Allah, the Persian Ambassador, Prince Futtee- Jaw, Envoy from the King of Oude, His Excellency Don Alonzo di Cachachero-y- Fandango -y-Castaiiete, the Spanish Ambassador, Count Ravioli, from Milan, the Envoy of the Republic of Topinambo, and a host of other fashionables, prom- ised to honor the festival : and their names made a famous show in the bills. Besides these, we had the celebrated band DO WN A T BEULAH. 385 of Moscowmusiks, the seventy-seven Transylvanian trumpeters, and the famous Bohemian Minnesingers ; with all the leading artists of London, Paris, the Continent, and the rest of Europe. I leave you to fancy what a splendid triumph for the British Washerwoman's Home was to come off on that day. A beauti- ful tent was erected, in which the Ladies-Patronesses were to meet : it was hung round with specimens of the skill of the washerwomen's orphans ; ninety-six of whom were to be feasted in the gardens, and waited on by the Ladies-Patronesses. Well, Jemmy and my daughter. Madam de Flicflac, myself, the Count Baron Punter, Tug, and Tagrag, all went down in the chariot, and barouche-and-four, quite eclipsing poor Lady Kilblazes and her carriage-and-two. There was a fine cold collation, to which the friends of the Ladies-Patronesses were admitted ; after which, my ladies and their beaux went strolling through the walks ; Tagrag and the Count having each an arm of Jemmy ; the Baron giving an arm apiece to Madame and Jemimarann. Whilst they were walking, whom should they light upon but poor Orlando Crump, my successor in the perfumery and hair-cutting. " Orlando ! " says Jemimarann, blushing as red as a label, and holding out her hand. " Jemimar ! " says he, holding out his, and turning as white as pomatum. " Sir I " says Jemmy, as stately as a duchess. "What! madam," says poor Crump, "don't you remember your shopboy .'' " "Dearest mamma, don't you recollect Orlando ? " whimpers Jemimarann, whose hand he had got hold of. " Miss Tuggeridge Coxe," says Jemmy, " I'm surprised of you. Remember, sir, that our position is altered, and oblige me by no more familiarity." " Insolent fellow ! " says the Baron, " vat is dis canaille ? " "Canal yourself, Mounseer," says Orlando, now grown quite furious : he broke away, quite indignant, and was soon lost in the crowd. Jemimarann, as soon as he was gone, began to look very pale and ill ; and her mamma, therefore, took her to a tent, where she left her along with Madame Flicflac and the Baron ; going off herself with the other gentlemen, in order to join us. It appears they had not been seated very long, when Madame Flicfiac suddenly sprung up, with an exclamation of joy, and rushed forward to a friend whom she saw pass. The Baron was left alone with Jemimarann ; and whether 386 COX'S DIARY. it was the champagne, or that my dear girl looked more than commonly pretty, I don't know ; but Madam Flicflac had not been gone a minute, when the Baron dropped on his knees, and made her a regular declaration. Poor Orlando Crump had found me out by this time, and was standing by my side, listening, as melancholy as possible, 'to the famous Bohemian Minnesingers, who were singing the celebrated words of the poet Gothy : — " Ich bin ya hupp lily lee, du bist ya hupp lily lee, Wir siiid doch liupp Hly lee, hupp la lily lee." " Chorus — Yodle-odie-odle-odle-odle-odle hupp! yodle-odle-aw-0-0-0 ! " They were standing with their hands in their waistcoats, as usual, and had just come to the "o-o-o," at the end of the chorus of the forty-seventh stanza, when Orlando started : " That's a scream ! " says he. " Indeed it is," says I ; " and, but for the fashion of the thing, a very ugly scream too : " when I heard another shrill " Oh ! " as I thought ; and Orlando bolt- ed off, crying, " By heavens, it's her voice ! " " Whose voice t " says I. " Come and see the row," says Tag. And off we went, with a considerable number of people, who saw this strange move on his part. We came to the tent, and there we found my poor Jemimar- ann fainting ; her mamma holding a smelling-bottle ; the Baron, on the ground, holding a handkerchief on his bleeding nose ; and Orlando squaring at him, and calling on him to fight if he dared. My Jemmy looked at Crump very fierce. " Take that feller away," says she; "he has insulted a French nobleman, and deserves transportation, at the least." Poor Orlando was carried off. " I've no patience with the little minx," says Jemmy, giving Jemimarann a pinch. '' She might be a Baron's lady; and she screams out because his Excellency did but squeeze her hand." "Oh, mamma! mamma!" sobs poor Jemimarann, "but he was t-t-tipsy." " T-t-tipsy ! and the more shame for you, you hussy, to be offended with a nobleman who does not know what he is doing." A TOURNAMENT 3S7 A TOURNAMENT. " I SAY, Tug," said Mac Turk, one day soon after our flare- up at Beulah, " Kilblazes comes of age in October, and then we'll cut you out, as I told you : the old barberess will die of spite w-hen she hears what we are going to do. What do you think.'' we're going to have a tournament ! " "What's a tour- nament.-"' says Tug, and so said his mamma when she heard the news ; and when she knew what a tournament was, I think, really, she was as an2;rv as Mac Turk said she would be, and gave us no peace for days together. " What I " says she, " dress up in armor, like play-actors, and run at each other with spears .-' The Kilblazes must be mad ! " And so I thought, but I didn't think the Tuggeridges would be mad too, as they were : for, when Jemmy heard that the Kilblazes' festival was to be, as yet, a profound secret, what does she do, but send down to the Moniing Post a flaming account of "the passage of arms at tuggeridgeville ! *• The days of chivalry are not past. The fair Castellane of T-gg-r-dgeville, whose splendid entertainments have so often been alluded to in this paper, has determined to give one, w'hich shall exceed in splendor even the magnificence of the ISIiddle Ages. We are not at liberty to say more ; but a tournament, at which His Ex-l-ncy B-r-n de P-nt-r and Thomas T-gr-g, Esq., eldest son of Sir Th — s T-gr-g, are to be the knights defendants against all comers ; a Queen of Beauty, of whose loveliness every frequenter of fashion has felt the power ; 3 banquet, unexampled in the annals of Gunter ; and a ball it\ which the recollections of ancient chivalry will blend sweetly with the soft tones of Weippert and Collinet, are among th.'i entertainments which the Ladye of T-gg-ridgeville has pre pared for h.er distinguished guests." The Baron was the life of the scheme : he longed to be ox\ horseback, and in the field at Tuggeridgeville, where he, Tagrag, and a number of our friends practised : he was the very best tilter present; he vaulted over his horse, and played such wonderful antics, as never were done except at Ducrow's. And now — oh that I had tvvcnty pages, instead of this shor\ :^S8 COX'S DIARY. chapter, to describe the wonders of the day ! — Twenty-fouf knights came from Ashley's at two guineas a head. We were in hopes to have had Miss Woolford in the character of Joan of Arc, but that lady did not appear. We had a tent for the challengers, at each side of which hung what they called es- coachings, (like hatchments, which they put up when peoj^le die,) and underneath sat their pages, holding their helmets for the tournament. Tagrag was in brass armor (my City con- nections got him that famous suit) ; his Excellency in polished steel. My wife wore a coronet modelled exactly after that of Queen Catherine, in " Henry V. ; " a tight gilt jacket, which set off dear Jemmy's figure wonderfully, and a train of at least forty feet. Dear Jemimarann was in white, her hair braided with pearls. Madame de Flicflac appeared as Queen Elizabeth ; and Lady Blanche Bluenose as a Turkish princess. An alder- man of London and his lady ; two magistrates of the county, and the very pink of Croydon ; several Polish noblemen ; two Italian counts (besides our Count) ; one hundred and ten young officers, from Addiscombe College, in full uniform, com- manded by Major-General Sir Miles Mulligatawney, K. C. B., and his lady ; the Misses Pimminy's Finishing Establishment, and fourteen young ladies, all in white : the Reverend Doctor Wapshot, and forty-nine young gentlemen, of the first families, under his charge — were some only of the company. I lea\-e you to fancy that, if my Jemmy did seek for fashion, she had enough of it on this occasion. Thev wanted me to have mounted asain, but my huntnig-day had been sufficient : besides, I ain't big enough for a real knight : so, as Mrs. Coxe insisted on my opening the Tournament — and I knew, it was in vain to resist — the Baron and Tagrag had undertaken to arrange so that I might come off with safety, if I came off at all. They had pro- cured from the Strand Theatre a famous stud of hobby-horses, which they told me had been trained for the use of the great Lord Bateman. I did not know exactly what they were till they arri\ ed ; but as they had belonged to a lord, I thought it was all right, and consented ; and I found it the best sort of riding, after all, to appear to be on horseback and walk safely afoot at the same time ; and it was impossible to come down as long as I kej^t on my own legs : besides, I could cuff and pull my steed about as much as 1 liked, without fear of his biting or kicking in return. As Lord of the Tournament, they placed in my hands a lance, ornamented spirally, in blue and gold : I thought of the pole over my old shop door, and almost wished myself there again, as I capered up to the battle in my A TOURNAMENT 38^ helmet and breast-plate, with all the trumpets blowing and drums beating at the time. Captain Tagrag was my opponent, and preciously we poked each other, till, prancing about, I put my foot on my horse's petticoat behind, and down I came, get- ting a thrust from the Captain, at the same time, that almost broke my shoulder-bone. " This was sufficient," they said, " for the laws of chivalry ; " and I was glad to get off so. After that the gentlemen riders, of whom there were no less tthan seven, in complete armor, and the professionals, now ran at the ring; and the Baron was far, far the most skilful. " How sweetly the dear Baron rides," said my wife, who was ahvaj'S ogling at him, smirking, smiling, and waving her handkerchief to him. " I say, Sam," says a professional to one of his friends, as, after their course, they came cantering up, and ranged under Jemmy's bower, as she called it : — " I say, Sam, I'm blowed if that chap in harmer mustn't have been one of hus." And this only made Jemmy the more pleased ; for the fact is, the Baron had chosen the best way of winning Jemimarann by courting her mother. The Baron was declared conqueror at the ring ; and Jemmy awarded him the prize, a wreath of white roses, which she placed on his lance ; he receiving it gracefully, and bowing, until the plumes of his helmet mingled v.'ith the mane of his charger, which backed to the other end of the lists ; then gal- loping back to the place where Jemimarann was seated, he begged her to place it on his helmet. The poor girl blushed very much, and did so. As all the people \vere applauding^ Tagrag rushed up, and, laying his hand on the Baron's shoul- der, whispered something in his ear, which made the other very angry, I suppose, for he shook him off violently. " Cha- cun pour soi," says he, " Monsieur de Taguerague," — which means, I am told, " Every man for himself." And then he rode away, throwing his lance in the air, catching it, and making his horse caper and prance, to the admiration of all beholders. After this came the " Passage of Arms." Tagrag and the Baron ran courses against the other champions; ay, and un- horsed two apiece ; whereupon the other three refused to turn out ; and preciously we laughed at them, to be sure ! " Now, it's our turn, Mr. Chicot,^'' says Tagrag, shaking his fist at the Baron : " look to yourself, you infernal mountebank, for, by Jupiter, I'll do my best ! " And before Jemmy and the rest of us, who were quite bewildered, could say a word, these two friends were charging away, spears in hand, ready to kill 390 COX'S DIARY. each other. In vaui Jemmy screamed ; in vain I threw clown my truncheon : they had broken two poles before I could say " Jack Robinson," and were driving at each other with the two new ones. The Baron had the worst of the first course, for he had almost been carried out of his saddle. " Hark you, Chi- cot ! " screamed out Tagrag, " next time look to your head ! " And next time, sure enough, each aimed at the head of the other. Tagrag's spear hit the right place ; for it carried off the Baron's helmet, plume, rose-wreath and all ; but his Excellency hit truer still — his lance took Tagrag on the neck, and sent him to the ground like a stone. " He's won ! he's won ! " says Jemmy, waving her hand- kerchief ; Jemimarann fainted, Lady Blanche screamed, and I felt so sick that I thought I should drop. All the company were in an uproar : only the Baron looked calm, and bowed very gracefully, and kissed his hand to Jemmy ; when, all of a sudden, a Jewish-looking man springing over the barrier, and followed by three more, rushed towards the Baron. " Keep the gate. Bob ! " he holloas out. " Baron, I arrest you, at the suit of Samuel Levison, for " But he ne\-er said for what; shouting out, "Aha!" and ^^ Saprrrrisfie .' " and I don't know what, his Excellency drew his sword, dug his spurs into his horse, and was over the poor bailiff, and off before another word. He had threatened to run through one of the bailiff's followers, Mr. Stubbs, only that gentleman made way for him ; and when we took up the bailiff, and brought him round by the aid of a little brandy-and-water, he told us all. " I had a writ againsht him, Mishter Coxsh, but I didn't vant to shpoil shport ; and, beshidesh, I didn't know him until dey knocked off his shteel.cap !" ****** Here was a pretty business ! OVERBOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. We had no great reason to brag of our tournament at Tug- geridgeville : but, after all, it? was better than the turn-out at Kilblazes, where poor Lord Heydownderry went about in a black velvet dressing-gown, and the Emperor Napoleon Bony- part appeared in a suit of armor and silk stockings, like Mr. OVERBOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. 35, Pell's friend in Pickwick ; we, having employed the gentlemen from Astley's Antitheatre, had some decent sport for our money. We never heard a word from the Baron, who had so dis- tinguished himself by his horsemanship, and had knocked down (and very justly) Mr. Nabb, the bailiff, and Mr. Stubbs, his man, who came to lay hands upon him. My sweet Jemmy seemed to be very low in spirits after his departure, and a sad thing it is to see her low in spirits : on days of illness she no more minds giving Jemimarann a box on the ear, or sending a plate of muffins across a table at poor me, than she does taking her tea. Jemmy, I say, was very low in spirits ; but one day (I re- member it was the day after Captain Higgins called, and said he had seen the Baron at Boulogne), she vowed that nothing but change of air would do her good, and declared that she should die unless she went to the sea-side in France. I knew what this meant, and that I might as well attempt to resist her as to resist her Gracious Majesty in Parliament assembled ; so I told the people to pack up the things, and took four places on board the " Grand Turk " steamer for Boulogne. The travelling carriage, which, with Jemmy's thirty-seven boxes and my carpet-bag, was pretty well loaded, was sent on board the night before ; and we, after breakfasting in Portland Place (little did I think it was the — but, poh ! never mind), went down to the Custom House in the other carriage, fol- lowed by a hackney-coach and a cab, with the servants, and fourteen bandboxes and trunks more, which were to be wanted by my dear girl in the journey. The road down Cheapside and Thames Street need not be described : we saw the monument, a memento of the wicked Popish massacre of St. Bartholomew ; why erected here I can't think, as St. Bartholomew is in Smithfield ; — we had a glimpse of Billingsgate, and of the Mansion House, where we saw the two-and-twenty-shilling-coal smoke coming out of the chimneys, and were landed at the Custom House in safety. I felt melan- choly, for we were going among a people of swindlers, as all Frenchmen are thought to be ; and, besides not being able to speak the language, leaving our own dear country and honest countrymen. Fourteen porters came out, and each took a package with the greatest civility; calling Jemmy her ladyship, and me your honor ; ay, and your honoring and my-ladyshipping even my man and the maid in the cab. I somehow felt all over quite 39» COX'S DIARY. melancholy at going away. " Here, my fine fellow," says 1 ta the coachman, who was standing very respectful, holding his hat in one hand and Jemmy's jewel-case in the other — " Here, my fine chap," says I, *' here's six shillings for you : " for I did not care for the money. " Six what ? " says he. " Six shillings, fellow," shrieks Jemmy, " and twice as mnch as your fare." " Feller, marm ! " says this insolent coachman. " Feller yourself, marm : do you think I'm a going to kill my horses, and break my precious back, and bust my carriage, and carry you, and your kids, and your traps, for six hog? " And with this the monster dropped his hat, with my money in it, and doubling his fist, put it so very near my nose that I really thought he would have made it bleed. "My fare's heighteen shillings," says he, " hain't it ? — hask hany of these gentle- men." " Why, it ain't more than seventeen-and-six," says one ot the fourteen porters ; " but if the gen'i'man is a gen'l'man, he can't give no less than a suffering anyhow." I wanted to resist, and Jemmy screamed like a Turk ; but, " Holloa ! " says one. " What's the row ? " says another. " Come, dub up ! " roars a third. And I don't mind telling you, in confidence, that I was so frightened that I took out the sovereign and gave it. My man and Jemmy's maid had dis- appeared by this time : they always do when there's a robbery or a row going on. I was going after them. " Stop, Mr. Ferguson," pipes a young gentleman of about thirteen, with a red livery waistcoat that reached to his ankles, and every variety of button, pin, string to keep it together. " Stop, Mr. Heff," says he, taking a small pipe out of his mouth, " and don't forgit the cabman." " What's your fare, my lad 1 " says I. " Why, let's see — yes — ho ! — my fare's seven-and-thirty and eightpence eggs — acly." The fourteen gentlemen holding the luggage, here burst out and laughed very rudely indeed ; and the only-person who seemed disappointed was, I thought, the hackney-coachman. *' Why, yoit rascal ! " says Jemmy, laying hold of the boy, " do you want more than the coachman ? " " Don't rascal mc^ marm ! " shrieks the little chap in return. " What's the coach to me ? Vy, you may go in an omlibus for sixpence if you like ; vy don't you go and buss it, marm ? Vy did you call my cab, marm 1 Vy am I to come forty mil^ OVERBOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. 3^^ from Scarlot Street, Po'tl'nd Street, Po'tl'nd Place, and not gil my fare, niarm ? Come, give me a suffering and a half, and don't keep my hoss a-vaiting all day." This speech, which takes some time to write down, was made in about the fifth part of a second ; and, at the end of it, the young gentleman hurled down his pipe, and, advancing towards Jemmy, doubled his fist, and seemed to challenge her to fight. ' My dearest girl now turned from red to be as pale as white Windsor, and fell into my arms. What was I to do ? I called " Policeman ! " but a policeman w^on't interfere in Thames Street ; robbery is licensed there. What was I to do ? Oh ! my heart beats with paternal gratitude when I think of what my Tug did ! As soon as this young cab-chap put himself into a fighting attitude. Master Tuggeridge Coxe — who had been standing by laughing very rudely, I thought — Master Tuggeridge Coxe, I say, flung his jacket suddenly into his mamma's face (the brass buttons made her start and recovered her a little), and, before we could say a word, was in the ring in which we stood, (formed by the porters, nine orangemen and women, I don't know how many newspaper-boys, hotel-cads, and old-clothesmen,) and, whirling about two little white fists in the face of the gentle- man in the red waistcoat, who brought up a great pair of black ones to bear on the enemy, was engaged in an instant. But la bless you ! Tug hadn't been at Richmond School for nothing ; and ??iil/ed away — one, two, right and left — like a little hero as he is, with all his dear mother's spirit in him. First came a crack which sent a long duskv white hat — that looked damp and deep like a well, and had a long black crape- rag twisted round it — first came a crack which sent this white hat spinning over the gentleman's cab, and scattered among the crowd a vast number of things which the cabman kept in it, — such as a ball of string, a piece of candle, a comb, a whip- lash, a little warbler, a slice of bacon, &c., &c. The cabman seemed sadly ashamed of this display, but Tug gave him no time : another blow was planted on his cheek- bone ; and a third, which hit him straight on the nose sent this rude cabman straight down to the ground. " Brayvo, my lord ! " shouted all the people around. " I won't have no more, thank yer," said the little cabman, gathering himself up. " Give us over my fare, vil yer, and let me git away ? " " What's your fare now, you cowardly little thief ? " says Tug. 394 COX'S DIARY. " Vy, then, two-and-eightpence," says he. " Go along,— you knoia it is ! " And two-and-eightpence he had ; and every- body applauded Tug, and hissed the cab-boy, and asked Tug for something to drink. We heard the packet-bell ringing, and all run down the stairs to be in time. I now thought our troubles would soon be over : mine were, very nearly so, in one sense at least : for after Mrs. Coxe and Jemimarann, and Tug, and the maid, and valet, and valuables . had been handed across, it came to my turn. I had often heard of people being taken up by a Plank, but seldom of their being set down by one. Just as I was going over, the vessel rode off a little, the board slipped, and down I soused in the water. You might have heard Mrs. Coxe's shriek as far as Gravesend ; it rung in my ears as I went down, all grieved at the thought of leaving her a disconsolate widder. Well, up I came again, and caught the brim of my beaver-hat — though I have heard that drowning men catch at straws : — I floated, and hoped to escape by hook or by crook : and luckil}'^, just then, I felt myself sud- denly jerked by the waistband of my whites, and found myself hauled up in the air at the end of a boat-hook, to the sound of " Yeho ! yeho ! yehoi ! yehoi ! " and so I was dragged aboard. I was put to bed, and had swallowed so much water that it took a very considerable quantity of brandy to bring it to a proper mixture in my inside. In fact, for some hours I was in a very deplorable state. NOTICE TO QUIT. Well, we arrived at Boulogne ; and Jemmy, after making inquiries, right and left, about the Baron, found that no person was known there ; and being bent, I suppose, at all events, on marrying her daughter to a lord, she determined to set off for Paris, where, as he had often said, he possessed a magnificent hotel he called it; — and I remembered Jemmy being mightily indignant at the idea : but hotel, we found afterwards, means only a house in French, and this reconciled her. Need I describe the road from Boulogne to Paris ? or need I describe that Capitol itself ? Suffice it to say, that we made our appear- ance there, at " Murisse's Hotel," as became the family of Coxe Tuggeridge ; and saw everything worth seeing in the metrop* NOTICE TO QUIT. 395 olis in a week. It nearly killed me, to be sure ; but, when you're on a pleasure-party in a foreign country, you must not mind a little inconvenience of this sort. Well, there is, near the city of Paris, a splendid road and row of trees, which — I don't know why — is called the Shande- lee^y, or Elysian Fields, in French : others, I have heard, call it the Shandeleery ; but mine I know to be the correct pronun- ciation. In the middle of this Shandeleezy ise, as the French say. If she didn't go, Miss Betsy did, or misses did : they seemed to have an attrackshun to the Bank, and went there as natral as an omlibus. At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house — (she wasn't admitted when master was there, but came still in his absints) — and she wore a hair of tryumph, as she entered. " Mary," says she, " where is the money your husbind brought to you yesterday ? " My master used always to give it to missis when he returned. ?: ij AI/SS SHUM'S HUSBAND. 423 " The money, ma ! " says Mary. " Why here ! " And pulling out her puss, she showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an odd-looking little coin. " That's it ! that's it ! " cried Mrs. S, " A Queene Anne's sixpence, isn't it, dear — dated seventeen hundred and three .'' " It was so sure enough : a Queen Ans sixpence of that very date. "Now, my love," says she, "I have found him! Come with me to-morrow, and you shall know all ! " And now comes the end of my story. ******* The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked behind, doing the genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. We walked down the New Road — we walked down the City Road — we walked to the Bank. We were crossing from that heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all of a sudden missis shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away. I rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms : spiling thereby a new weskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard, I say, very nearly knocking down the old sweeper who was hobbling away as fast as posibil. We took her to Birch's ; we provided her with a hackney-coach and every lucksury, and carried her home to Islington. ******* That night master nerer came home. Nor the nex night, nor the nex. On the fourth day an auctioneer arrived ; he took an infantry of the furnitur, and placed a bill in the window. At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He was haggard and pale ; not so haggard, however, not so pale as his miserable wife. He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that I coppied my look to Miss . He looked at l;cr very tendrilly and held out his arms. She gev a suffycating shreek, and rusht into his umbraces. " Mary," says he, ''you know all now. I have sold my place ; I have got three thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. I've sold my house and furnitur, and that brings me another. We'll go abroad and love each other, has formly." And now you ask me, Who he was ? I shudder to relate. Mr. Haltamont swep the crossing from the Bank to Corn- hill ! ! Of cors, /left his servis. I met him, few years after, nt Badden-Badden, where he and Mrs. A. v.'ere much respectic^ and pass for pipple of propaty. 424 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. /. YELLOWPLUSH. THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. DIMOND CUT DIMOND. The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more elly- gant and youfonious than that of my fust. I now found myself boddy servant to the Honrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son of the Earl of Crabs. Halgernon was a barrystir — that is, he lived in Pump Cort, Temple : a wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. Suffiz to say, it's on the confines of the citty, and the choasen aboad of the lawyers of this metrappolish. When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean that he went sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply that he kep chambers, lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a commitionarship, or a revisinship, or any other place that the Wig guvvyment could give him. His father was a Wig pier (as the landriss told me^, and had been a Toary pier. The fack is, his lordship was so poar, that he would be anythink or nothink, to get provisions for his sons and an inkum fur himself. I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year ; and it would have been a very comforable maintenants, only he knever paid him. Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake ; he got his allovv^ents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble and fashnabble manner. He kep a kab — -he went to Holmax — and Crockfud's — he moved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the law boox very little, I can tell you. Those fashnabble gents have ways ofgetten money, witch corn- man pipple doan't understand. Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he had the welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as common as haypince — clarrit and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin ; and verry glad I was, to be sure, to be a val- ley to a zion of the nobillaty. Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of V" THE CALAIS PACKET. — MR. YELLOWPLUSH's EMOTIONS ON FIRST GOING TO SEA. THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCE ACE. ^25 paper. The names of his family was wrote on it ; it was wrote in the shape of a tree, a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and the names were on little plates among the bows. The pic- tur said that the Deuceaces kem into England in the year 1066, along with William Conqueruns. My master called it his pody- grce. I do bleev it was because he had this pictur, and be- cause he was the Honrabhlc Deuceace, that he mannitched lo live as he did. If he had been a common man, you'd have said he was no better than a swinler. It's only rank and buth that can warrant such singularities as my master show'd. For it's no use disgysingit — the Honrabble Halgernon was a gam- bler. For a man of wulgar family, it's the wust trade that can be — for a man of common feelinx of honesty, this profession is quite imposbil ; but for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it's the esiest and most prophetable line he can take. It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should live in the Temple ; but it must be recklected, th.at it's not only lawyers who live in what's called the Ins of Cort. Many batchylers, who have nothink to do with lor, have here their loginx; and many sham barrysters, who never put on a wig and gownd twise in their lives, kip apartments in the Temple, instead of Bon Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble places. Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there was 8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar, Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys ; fust Hoar, Mr. Sergeant Flabber — opsite, Mr. Counslor Brufty ; and secknd pair, Mr. Haggerstony, an Irish counslor,- praktising at the Old Baly, andlickwise what they call reporter to the liorn- ing Post nyouspapper. Opsite him was wrote Mr. Richard Blewitt ; and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. This young fellow was a new-comer into the Temple, and unlucky it was for him too — he'd better have never been born ; for it's my firm apinion that the Temple ruined him — that is, with the help of my master and Mr. Dick Blewitt : as you shall hear. Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young nian, had jest left tJie Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his own — six thousand pound, or so — in the stox. He was jest of age, an orfin who had lost his father and mother ; and having distinkwished hisself at Collitch, where he 426 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. gained seffral prices, was come to town to push his fortn, and study the barryster's bisness. Not bein of a very high fammly hisself — indeed, I've heard say his father was a chisnionger, or sometliink of that lo sort — ■ Dawkins was glad to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to rich Squire Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him. Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr. Blewitt's gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters, — mine being too much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr. Blewitt's sort. Blewitt was what they call a bettin man ; he went reglar to Tattlesall's, kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and a cut-away coat. In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, who was a slim, ellygant man as ever I see — he had very white hands, rayther a sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed and as black as Warren's jet — he spoke very low and soft — he seemed to be watchin the person with whom he was in convysation, and always flatterd everybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He was always swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty as posbill. He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one would trust with life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at least ; who, though a quiet young man, fond of his boox, nov- vles, Byron's poems, fioot-playing, and such like scientafic amuse- mints, grew hand-in-glove with honest Dick Blewitt, and soon after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw ! he thought he was makin good connections and real frends — he had fallen in with a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that ever lived. Before Mr. Dawkins's arrival in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barely condysended to speak to Mi". Blewitt ; it was only about a month after that suckumstance that my master, all of a suckling, grew very friendly with him. The reason was pretty clear, — Deuceace luanted him. Dawkins had not been an hour in master's company before he knew that he had a pidgin to pluck. Blewitt knew this too : and bein very fond of pidgin, in- tended to keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the Honrabble Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's clause, who thought he had it safe. In fact, he'd brought Dawkins to these chambers for that very porpos, thinking to have him under his eye, and strip him at leisure. My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 427 game. Gamblers know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation ; and though Mr. Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr. Deuceace, they knew each other's dealins and caracters puffickly well. " Charles you scoundrel," says Deuceace to me one day (he always spoak in that kind way), " who is this person that has taken the opsit chambers, and plays the flute so industrusly 1 " " It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a great friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir," says I j " they seem to live in each other's rooms." Master said nothink, but \\Q grin' d—v(\y eye, how he did grin^ Not the fowl find himself could snear more satannickly. I knew what he meant : Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always to- gether, and when the simpleton is rich, one knows pretty well what will come of it. I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as my master ; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless us ! there was four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men as you ever see : Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. Blewitt's, and me — and we knew what our masters was about as well as they did theirselfs. Frinstance, I can say this tor myself, there wasn't a paper in Deuceace's desk or drawer, not a bill, a note, or mimerandum, which I hadn't read as well as he : with Blewitt's it was the same — me and his young man used to read 'em all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that we didn't get a glass out of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have some lumps of it. We had keys to all the cubbards — we pipped into all the letters that kem and went — ■ we pored over all the bill-files — we'd the best pickers out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the force-mit balls out of the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals and candles, we left them to the landrisses. You may call this robry — non- since — it's only our rights — a suvvant's purquizzits is as sacred as the laws of Hengland. Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, esquire, was sityouated as follows : He'd an incum of three hunderd a year from his father. Out of this he had to pay one hundred and ninety for money borrowed by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, seventy more for his hoss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and about three hunderd and fifty for a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park \ besides this, 428 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSR. his pockit-money, say a hunderd, his eatin, drinkin, and wine* Xiiarchant's bill, about two hunderd moar. So that you see he laid by a pretty liandsome sum at the end of the year. JVIy master was diffrent ; and being a more fashnabble man than Mr. B., in course he owed a deal more mony. There was fust: Account coitiray, at Crockford's ..... £i-!ii o o Bills of xchange and I. O. U.'s (but he didn't pay these in most cases) 4963 o o 21 tailors' bills, in all ........ 1306 11 9 3 hossdealers' do. 402 o o 2 Cfiachbuilder ......... 506 o o Bills contracted at Cambridtch 2193 6 S Sundries .......... 9S7 10 o ;Ci4o69 S S I give this as a curosity — pipple don't know how in many cases fashnabble life is carried on ; and to know even what a real gnlmn ozves is somethink instructif and agreeable. But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the inquiries concerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned al- ready, he met Mr. Blewitt on the stairs ; and byoutiffle it was to see how this genlmn, who had before been almost cut by my master, was now received by him. One of the sweetest smiles I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's countenance. He held out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, and said, in the most frenly tone of vice posbill, " What ? Mr. Blewitt ? It is an age since we met. What a shame that such near nay- bors should see each other so seldom ! " Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing-gown, smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked surprised, flattered, and then suspicious. " Why, yes," says he, " it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time." " Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By the bye, what an evening that was — hay, Mr. Blewitt ? What wine .-" what capital songs ? I recollect your ' Maj^-day in the morning ' — cuss me, the best comick song I ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it only yesterday. You know the duke, I think ? " Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, " No, I don't." "Not know him !" cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows j)'^«; as every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your good things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket." And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust answered him quite short and angry : but, after a little THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 429 more flummery, he grew as pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flattry, and bleeved all his lies. At last the doot shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt's chambers together. Of course I can't say what past there ; but in an hour master kem up to his own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo-smoke. I never see any genimn more sick than he was ; he'd been smoakin scagars along with Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho I'd often heard him xpress his horrow of backo, and knew wexy well he would as soon swallow pizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a reason : if he'd been smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to some porpus. I didn't hear the convysation between 'em ; but Mr. Blewitt's man did : it was, — " Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars ! Have you one for a friend to smoak ? " (The old fox, it wasn't only the seagars he was a-smoakin !) "Walk in," says Mi Blewitt ; and they began a-chafhn together ; master very ank- shous about the young gintleman who had come to live in oui chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to that sub- ject, — saying that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly ; how glad he'd be for his part to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and any friend of /its, and so on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap laid for him. " I really don't know this Dawkins," says he : " he's a chismonger's son, I hear ; and tho I've exchanged visits with him, I doan't intend to continyou the acquaintance, — not wishin to assoshate with that kind of pipple." So they went on, master fishin, and Mr. Blewitt not wishin to take the hook at no price. " Confound the vulgar thief ! " muttard my master, as he was laying on his sophy, after being so very ill ; " I've poisoned myself with his infernal tobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor ! he thinks he'll ruin this poor cheese- monger, does he.^ I'll step in, and warn him." I thought I should bust a-lafhn, when he talked in this style. I knew very well what his " warning " meant, — lockin the stable door but stealin the hoss fust. Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. Dawkins we exicuted ; and very pritty it was. Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, had some other parshallities — wiz., he was very fond of good eatin and drinkin. After doddling over his music and boox all day, this young genimn used to sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a tavern, drinkin all sots of wine along with his friend Mr. Blewitt. He was a quiet young fellow enough af 430 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.'J. YELLOWPLUSH. fust ; but it was Mr. B. who (for his own porpuses, no doubt,") had got him into this kind of Hfe. Well, I needn't say that he who eats a fine dinner, and drinks too much overnight, wants a bottle of sodav/ater, and a gril, praps, in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinses case ; and reglar almost as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from " Dix Coffy-house " was to be seen on our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D.'s hot breakfast. No man would have thought there was anythink in such a trifling cirkumstance ; master did, though, and pounced upon it like a cock on a barlycorn. He sent me out to Mr, Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's called a Strasbug-pie — in French, a '"'' patty defau graw." He takes a card, and nails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws come generally in a round wooden box, like a drumb) ; and what do you think he writes on it .'' why, as folios : — " For the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace, ^^c, cS^r., d^e. With Prince Talkyratia^ s compliments.^' Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed ! I laff when I think of it, still, the old surpint ! He 7vas a surpint, that Deuce- ace, and no mistake. Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day punctially as Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming ?// the stairs, Mr. Halgernon Percy Deuceace was going do7vn. He was as gay as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, and twizzting round his "head his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he went very fast, and by a most unlucky axdent struck his cane against the waiter's tray, and away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, soda- water and all ! I can't think how my master should have choas such an exact time ; to be sure, his windo looked upon the cort, and he could see every one who came into our door. As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a rage as, to be sure, no man ever was in befor ; he swoar at the waiter in the most dreddfle way ; he threatened him with his stick, and it was only when he see that the waiter was rayther a bigger man than hisself that he was in the least pazzyfied. He returned to his own chambres ; and John, the waiter, went off for more gril to Dixes Coffy-house. " This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles," says Blaster to me, after a few minits paws, during witch he had been and wrote a note, put it into an anvelope, and sealed it with his big seal of arms. " But stay — a thought strikes me — • take this note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pye you brought yester- day ; and hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where you got it \ will break every bone in your skin ! " TFIE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 431 These kind of prommises were among the few which I knew him to keep : and as I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I carried the neat, and of cors said nothink. Waiting in Mr. Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, I returned to my master with an anser. I may as well give both of these documence, of which I happen to have taken coppies : THE HON. A. p. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. Tetnple, Tuesday. " Mr. Deuceace presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for the accident which has just taken place. " May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to remedy the evil ha has occasioned to the best of his power? If Mr. Dawkins will do him the favor to partaka of the contents of the accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. "Dawkins may rely), perhaps he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the flat which Mr. Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed.^ " It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification t(j the original donor of the /rtVf, when he learns that it has fallen into the hands of so celebrated a bon-vivant as Mr. Dawkins. " r. 6'. Dawkins, Esq., &'£., dr'c., &'c." II. FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. " Mr. Thomas Smjth Daw:iins presents his grateful compliments to the Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. Deuceace's generous proffer. " It would be one of the ha/>/>icst moments of Mr. Smith Dawkins's life if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would (?ji:/^«(/ /;?j-^'- fernal thieves and scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hectoj with me, I will cane you ; if you want more, I'll shoot you ; it you meddle between me and Dawkins, I will do both, I know your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. I knov? vou have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and wan', all. I will have half, or you never shall have a penny," It's quite true that master knew things ; but how was the wonder. I couldn't see Mr. R's face during this dialogue, bein on the wrong side of the door ; but there was a considdrable paws after thuse complymints had passed between the two genlmn, — one walkin quickly up and down the room, — tother, angry and stupid, sittin down, and stampin with his foot, *' Now listen to this, Mr, Blewitt," continues master at last. " If you're quiet, you shall half this fellow's money : but venture to win a shilling from him in my absence, or without i«y consent, and you do it at your perik" " Well, well, Mr. Deuceace," cries Dick, " it's very hard^ and I must say, not fair : the game was of my startin, and you've no right to interfere with my friend." " Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool ! You professed yestertlay not to know this man, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should like to know by what law of honor I am bound to give him up to you ? " It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talking about honor, I declare I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of the precious way in whicL these chaps were going to serve him. But if they didn't know what honor was, /did ; and never, never did I tell tails about my masters when in theii sarvice — out, in cors, the hobligatiou is no longer binding. Well, the next day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White soop, turbit, and lobstir sos ; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and M'Arony ; wines, champagn, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and ever so many of clarrit. The compny presint was three ; wiz., the Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires, My i, how we genlmn in the kitchin did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when it was brot out of the parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik ; Mr. Dawkinses genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of age) grew so il with M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's pils, which J^ kildhim. But this is all promiscuous : I an't talkin of the survants now, but the masters. Would you bleeve it ? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of 434 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. wine between the 3, the genhn sat down \oecarty. It's a game where only 2 plays, and where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on. Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game they were wonderful equill ; and about supper-lime (when grilled am, more champang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stox)d thus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds ; Mr, Blewitt, 30 shillings ; the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost 3/, los. After the devvle and the sham- pang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and five pound the bet, I thought to be sure, after hearing the complymints between Blewitt and master in the morning, that now poor Dawkins's time was come. Not so : Dawkins won always, Mr, B. betting on his play, and giving him the very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt five o'clock the nex morning) they stopt., Master was counting up the skore on a card. "Blewitt," says he, "I've been unlucky, I owe you — let me see — -yes, five-and-forty pounds ? " " Five-and-forty," said Blewitt, " and no mistake V "I will giveyou a check," says the honrabble genlmn. " Oh ! don't mention it, my dear sir ! " But master got a great sheet of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers, Pump, Algit and Co,, his bankers, "Now," says master, " I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr, Dawkins, If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sum of monev, Voyons, thirteen points at a pound — it is easy to calculate ;" and d'rawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, which shon till they made my eyes wink. So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trem- bling, and drew them in. "Let me say," added master, "let me say (and I've had some little experience), that you are the very best rr^/-// player with whom I ever sat down," Dawkinses eyesglissened as he put the money up, and said, " Law, Deuceace, you flatter me." Flaticr him ! I should think he did. It was the very think which master ment, " But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, "I must have my revenge ; for I'm ruined — positively ruined — by your luck," '^Well, well," says Mr, Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if ye had gained a iviillium, " shall it be to-morrow ? Blewitt, what say you ? " THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCE ACE, 435 Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, consented too. " We'll meet," says he, " at your chambers. But my dear fello, not too much wine : I can't stand it at any time, especially when I have to play ccarte with you,'" Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. " Here, Charles," says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow ! pore fellow ! I knew what was a-comin ! But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, master had Iwrrowed them from Mr. Blewitt ! I brouglit 'em with 7 more, from that young genlmn's chambers that very morning : for since his interview with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. 't> Well, shall I continue the tail 1 If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bit wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost hisMiioney; as it was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very short time to part with it. Next day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. Dawkins had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev his party, — dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D.'s as befoar. Play begins at 11. This time I knew the business was pretty serious, for we suvvants was packed off to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to chambers — no mas- ter — he kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a little toilit, ordered more devvles and soda-water, and back again he went to Mr. Dawkins's. They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all the vittles can>e out to us genlmn : they h.ad in more wine though, and must have drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to his chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar drunk. He staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he swoar, he flung me a heap of silver, and finely, he sunk down exosted on his bed ; I pullin off his boots and close, and making him comfrable. When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of every servant to do — I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book and all his letters : a number of axdents have been prevented that way. I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty dock)'ment : — 436 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. I. O. U. ;^47oo. Thomas Smith Dawkins Friday., \6th January. There was another bit of paper of the same kind — " I. O. U. four hundred pounds : Richard Blewitt : " but this, in corse, ment nothink. ■ * * * * * Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He drest, and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and the two genthnn went together, " Where shall he drive, sir .? " says I. " Oh, tell him to drive to the Bank." Pore Dawkins ! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkeniss, gave a shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle ; and they drove on. That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred pounds. * * * # * Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up the stairs with a solium and important hair. " Is your master at home .'' " says he. " Yes, sir," says I ; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to the keyhole, listning with all my mite. "Well," says Blewitt, " we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see^with Dawkins." " Settled ! " says master. "Oh, yes — yes — I've settled with him." " Four thousand seven hundred, I think .'' " " About that — yes." " That makes my share — let me see — two thousand three hundred and fifty; which I'll thank you to fork out." " Upon my word — why — Mr. Blewitt," says master, " I don't really understand what you mean." " You don't know za/iat I mean .f' says Blewitt, in an axent such as I never before heard. "You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me that we were to go shares .-• Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the other night to pay our losings to Dawkins ! Didn't you swear, on your honor as a gentle- man, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair? " FORING PARTS. 457 " Agreed, sir," says Deuceace ; " agreed." " Well, sir, and now what have you to say ? " " Why, that I don't intend to keep my promise ! You infernal fool and ninny ! do you suppose I was laboring for you ? Do you fancy I was going to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, that you should profit by it ? Get away, sir ! Leave the room, sir ! Or, stop — here — I will give you four hundred pounds — your own note of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passed between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace." I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He stormed, groaned, helloed, swoar ! At last, he fairly began blubbring ; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace to grant him mercy. At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us ! it's well I didn't tumble hed over eels into the room !), and said, " Charles, show the gentleman down stairs ! " My master looked at him quite steddy, Blewitt slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven knows where he was. ****** " Charles," says my master to me, about an hour afterward^ " I'm going to Paris ; you may come, too. if you please." FORING PARTS. It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had won this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as extravygant and osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he determined on going to Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of all them winnings of his ; didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leave his natiff shoars — neigh — didn't even so much as call together his trades- min, and pay off their little bills befor his departure. On the contry, "Chawles," said he to me, " stick a piece of paper on my door," which, is the way that lawyers do, "and write ' Back at seven ' upon it." Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it on our outer oak. And so mistearus was Deuceace abou*^ his continental tour (to all except me), that when the 438 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. landriss brought him her account for the last month (amountain, at the very least, to 2/. loi-.), master told her to leave it till Monday morning, when it should be properly settled. It's extrodny how ickonomical a man becomes, when he's got five thousand lbs. in his pockit. Back at 7 indeed ! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover Road, in the Reglator Coach — master inside, me out. A strange company of people there was, too, in that wehicle, — 3 sailors ; an Italyin with his music-box and munky ; a missionary, going to convert the heathens in France ; 2 oppra girls (they call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure-aunts' mothers inside • 4 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and mustaches, singing, chat- tering, and jestiklating in the most vonderful vay. Such conv pliments as passed between them and the figure-aunts ! such a munshin of biskits and sippin of brandy ! such " O mong Jews," and " O sacrrres," and " kill fay frwaws ! " 1 didn't understand their languidge at that time, so of course can't igsplain much of their conwersation ; but it pleased me, nevertheless, for now I felt that I was reely going into foring parts : which, ever sins I had had any edication at all, was always my fondest wish. Heavin bless us ! thought I, if these are specimeens of all Frenchmen, what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's monky, sittin mopin and meluncolly on his box, was not half so ugly, and seamed quite as reasonabble. Well, we arrived at Dover — " Ship Hotel " — weal cutlets half a ginny, glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half-a-crownd, a hapny-worth of wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master paid without grumbling ; as long as it was for himself he never minded the expens ; and nex day we embarked in the packit for Balong sir-mare — which means in French, the town of Balong sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foring wonders, expected this to be the fust and greatest : phans}', then, my disapintment, when we got there, to find this Balong, not situated on the sea, but on the shoar. But oh ! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I d;d wish for JJump Court agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel ! Gentle reader, av you ever been on the otion ? — " The sea, the sea, the open sea ! " as Barry Cromwell says. As soon as we entered our little wessel, and I'd looked to master's luggitch and mine (mine was rapt up in a very small hankercher), as soon, I say, as we entered our little wessel, as soon as I saw the waives, black and frothy, like fresh drawn porter, a-dashin against the ribs of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, splittin the billoes in two, the sales a-flaffin in the hair, the FORJNG PARTS. 439 Standard of Hengland floating at the mask-head, the steward a-getting ready the basins and things, the capting proudly tred- din»^ the deck and giving orders to the salers, the white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheens disappearing in the distans — then, then I felt, for the first time, the mite, the madgisty of existence. " Yellowplush my boy," said I, in a dialogue with myself, "your life is now about to commens — your carear, as a man, dates from your entrans on board this packit. Be wise, be manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are no longer a boy now, but a footman. Throw down your tops, your marbles, your boyish games — throw off your childish babbits with your inky clerk's jackit — throw up your " ***** Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the fust place singlar, in the next place painful, and atlastcom- pleatly overpowering, had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, and now I found myself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me to describe. Suffis to say, that now I dix- covered what basins was made for — that for many, many hours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and purixjses, the rain pattering in my face, tl"ie salers tramplink over my body — the panes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been about four hours in this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to that part of the deck where we servants were all huddled up together, and calls out " Charles ! " "Well," says I, gurgling out a faint "yes, what's the matter?" " You're wanted.' " Where ? " " Your master's wery ill," says he, with a grin. " Master be hanged ! " says I, turning round, more misrable than ever. I woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand masters — no, not for the Empror of Russia or the Pop of Room- Well, to cut this sad subjick short, many and many a voyitch have I sins had upon what Shakspur calls the " wasty dip," but never such a retched one as that from Dover to Balong, '\\\ the year Anna Domino 1818. Steemers were scarce in those days j and our journey was made in a smack. At last, when I was in a stage of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myself at Death's doar, we got to the end of our journey. Late in the evening we hailed the Gaelic shoars, and hankered in the arbor of Balong sir-mare. It was, the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master : and as 440 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. we entered the calm water, and saw the corafrabble lights gleaming in the houses, and felt the roal of the vessel degreas- ing, never was two mortials gladder, I warrant, than we were. At length our capting drew up at the key, and our joumey was down. But such a bustle and clatter, s-wch jabbering, such shrieking and swaring, such woUies of oafs and axicrations as saluted us on landing, I never knew !• We were boarded, in the fust place, by custom-house officers in cock-hats, who seased our iuggitch, and called for our passpots : then a crowd of inn- waiters came, tumbling and screaming on deck — " Dis way, sare,^^ cries one; "Hotel Meu rice," says another; "^ Hotel de Bang," screeches another chap — the tower of Babyle was nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a big fellow with earrings, who very nigh knock me down, ins wrenching master's carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carr)-- ing it to the hotelL But we got to it safe at last ; and, for the fust time in my life, I slep in a foring- country. I sha'n't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been visited by not less (on an av3ridg)than twomiliiums of English since I fust saw it twenty y^ars ago, is tolrabbly welt known already. It's a dingy melluracolly place, to my mind ; the only- thing moving in the streets is the gutter which nms down 'em. As for wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em ; and for frogs, upon my honor I never see a single Frenchman swallow one, which I had been led to beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, custom. One thing which amazed me was the ssnglar name which they give to this town of Balong. It's divided, as every boddy knows, into an upper towTt (sityouate on a ra-ounting, ^x\^ sur- rounded by a wall, or bidlyvar) and a lower town, which is on the level of the sea. Well, will it be believed that they call the upper town the Hot Veal, and the other the Base VeaJ, which is 0:1 the contry, genrally good in France, though the beaf, it must be confest, is exscrabble. It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his iodgian, at the Hotel de Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew ; and if he'd been the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of Canterbury, he could not have given himself greater hairs, I can tell you. Nothing was too fine for us nov/ ; we had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, which belonged to the prime minister of France (at least the landlord said they were \Yi^ premier' s) ; and the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had not paid his landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to think that goold was too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would break down witli a man of his weight FORING PARTS. ^^^ Ch.impang flew about like ginger-pop, besides borclo, clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the deli^xes of the Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, and did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the beach, and watch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of them long, sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know why, tallow-scoops. Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped here were boath numerous and daliteful ; nothink, in fact, could be more pickong, as they say. In the morning before break- fast we boath walked on the Peer ; master in a blue mareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new livry ; both provided with long sliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I don't know Y, but I suppose it's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. With these we igsamined, very attentively, the otion, the sea-weed, the peb- bles, the dead cats, the fishwimmin, and the waives (like little children playing at leap-frog), which came tumbling over i an- other on to the shoar. It seemed to me as if they were scram- bling to get there, as well they might, being sick of the sea, and anxious for the blessid, peaceable terry Jirmy. After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his beat, and me on mine,- — for my place in this foring town was a complete shinycurc), and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, we egsamined a little more the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on ; and this lasted till dinner, and dinner till bed-time, and bed-time lasted till nex day, when came brexfastf and din- ner, and tally-scooping, as before. This is the way with all people of this town, of which, as I've heard say, there is ten thousand happy English, who lead this plesut life from year's end to year's end. Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentle- men, a little dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowy- gers. In none of these amusements did we partake. We were a little too good to play crown pints at cards, and never get paid when we won ; or to go dangling after the portionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops and penny-wist along with the old ladies. No, no ; my master was a man of fortn now, and behaved himself as sich. If ever he condysended to go into the public rooni of the Hotel de Bang — the French (doubtless for reasons best known to themselves) call this a sallymanjy — ■ he swoar more and lowder than any one there ; he abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his glas in his i, he staired at everybody. He took always the place before the fire. He talke-d about " my carridge," "my currier," " oiy ser- vant ; " and he did wright. I've always found through life, thai 442 THE MEMOIRS OF AIR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSR. if you wish to be respected by English jDeople, you must be in. salent to them, especially if you are a sprig of nobiliaty. We ///t being insulted by noblemen, — it shows they're familiar with us. Law bless us ! I've known many and many a genlmn about town who'd rather be kicked by a lord than not be no- ticed by him ; they've even had an aw of me, because I was a lord's footman. While my master was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airs I gave myself in the kitching, I can tell you ; and the consequints was, that we were better served, and moar liked, than many pipple with twice our merit. Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him so long at Balong ; and it clearly was his wish to act the man of fortune there for a little time before he tried the char- acter of Paris. He purchased a carridge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine new livry blazin with lace, and he past through the Balong bank a thousand pounds of the money he had won from Dawkins, to his credit at a Paris house ; showing the Balong bankers at the same time, that he'd plenty moar in his potfolie. This was killin two birds with one stone ; the bankers' clerks spread the nuse over the town, and in a day after master had paid the money every old dowyger in Balong had looked out the Crabs' family podigree in the Peeridge, and was quite intimate with the Deuceace name and estates. If Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's many vurtuous English mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town with- out excommunicating with his father on the subject of his intended continental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my Lord Crabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a copy. *t ran thus : — Boulogne, January 25. " My dear Father, — I have long, in the course of mv legal studies, found the neces- sity of u, knowledge <.f Frencli, in which language all the early history of our profession is written, and have determined to take a little relaxation from chamber readinj', which has serious'y injured my health. If my modest finances can bear a two months' journey, and a residence at Paris, I propose to retnain there that period. " Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to Lord Bobtail, our ambassador? My name, and your old friendship with him, I know would secure me a re- ception at his house ; but a pressing letter from yourself would at once be more courteous, and more effectual. " May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an expensive man, my dear f^ither, as you know ; but we are no chameleons, and fifty pounds (with my litt'e earn- ings in my profession') would vastly add to the agrcmens of my continental excursion. '' Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish the hard portion of a younger son hid not been mine, and that I could live without the dire necessity for labor, happy among the rural scenes of my childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters and you! Heaven bless you, dearest father, and all those beloved ones now dwelling undet the dear old roof at Sizes. " Ever your affectionate son, " Algernon. » The Right Hon. Ihr Karl 0/ Crabs, &'c. *' Sizes Court, Bucks." FORING PARTS. 4^^ To this affeckshnat letter his lordship replied, by return of poast, as folios : — " My DSAR Algernon, — Your letter came safe to hand, and I enclose you tlie letter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and has one of the best cooks in Europe. " We were all charmed with your warm remembrance of us, not having seen you for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family atfection which, in spite of time and absence, still clings so fondly to home. It is a sad, selfish world, and very few who have entered it can afford to keep tliose fresh feelings which you have., my dear son. " May you long retain tliem, is a fond father's earnest i>rayer. Be sure, dear Algernon, that they will be through life your greatest comfort, as well as your best wordly ally ; con- soling you in misfortune, cheering you in depression, aiding and inspiring you to exertior and success. " I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at toutts' is so low, just now, as to render a payment of your allowai;ce for the present impossible. I see by my book that I ewe you now nine quarters, or 450/. Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully paid over to you on the first opportunity. " r>y the way, [have enclrjsed some extracts from the newspapers, which may interest you : and have received a very strange letter from a Mr. Blewitt, about a play transaction, which, I suppose, is the case alluded to in these prints. He says you won 4700/. from one Dawkins: that the lad paid it ; that he, Blewitt, was to go what he calls ' snacks' in the winning ; but that you refused to share the booty. How can you, my dear boy, quarrel with these vulgar people, or lay yourself m any way open to their attacks? I have played myself a good deal, and there is no man living who can accuse me of a doubtful act. You should either have shot this Blewitt or paid him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late to do the former ; and, i)erhai)S, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. My dearest boy! recollect through life \\\aX you never cati afford to be dishonest -Miik a rogue. Four thousand seven hundred pounds was a great coup, to be sure. " As you are now in such liigh feather, can you, dearest Algernon! lend me five hun- dred pounds ? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay you. Your brothers and sisters send you their love. I need not add, that you have always the blessings of your affectionate father, " Crabs." " P. S. — Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a thousand." ***** I needn't say that this did not quite enter into Deuceace's eyedears. Lend his father 500 pound, indeed ! He'd as soon have lent him a box on the year ! In the fust place, he hadn seen old Crabs for seven years, as that nobleman remarked in his epistol ; in the secknd he hated him, and they hated each other ; and nex, if master had loved his father ever so much, he lovecl somebody else better — his father's son, namely : and sooner than deprive that exlent young man of a penny, he'd have scan all the fathers in the world hangin at Newgat, and all the " beloved ones," as he called his sisters, the Lady Deuceacis- ses, so many convix at Bottomy Bay. The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret we wished to keep the play transaction, the public knew it now full well, Blewitt, as I found after, was the author of the libels which appeared right and left : "Gambling in High Life: — 'Cat Honorable Wx. De— c — ce again!— This celebrated whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some profit. On Fri'dav, the i6th January, he won five thousand pounds from a verv young gentleman, Th — m — s Sm— th L)^wk--n's, Esq., and lost two thousand five hundred to Ri Bl — w— tt, Esq., of the T— mple. Mi. D. very honorably paid the sum lost by him to the honorable whist-player, but we have nof heard that before his sudden trip to Paris, Mr. D— uc — ce paid his losings to Mn Jil— W— tt, ' 444 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSIT. Nex came a " Notice to Corryspondents : " '' Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the notorious Deuceace ? W« answer, We do ; and, in our veiy next Number, propose to make some of them public." w TT ^ =3f ^ They didn't appear, however ; but, on the contry, the very same newspeper, which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, was now loud in his praise. It said : " A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last week, most unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of high birth and talents, the son of the exemplary E — ^^rl uf Cr — bs. We repel, with scorn and indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the malignant slanderer who vilified Mr. De — cc— ce, and beg to offer that gentleman the only reparation in our power for having thus tampered with his unsullied name. We dis- believe tlie 7-nffian and his story, and most sincerely regret that such a tale, or stich a ivriter, should ever have been brought forward to the readers of this paper." This was satisfactory, and no mistake : and much pleased we were at the denial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased that master sent him a ten-pound noat, and his com- plymints. He'd sent another to the same address, before this par.rowgraff was printed ; why, I can't think : for I woodn't suppose anything musnary in a littery man. Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the carridge smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we bade ojew to Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure we cut ! and, my i, what a figger the postilion cut ! A cock-hat, a jackit made out of a cow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-tale about 3 fit in length, and a pair of boots ! Oh, sich a pare ! A bishop might almost have preached out of one, or a modrat-sized famly slep in it. Me and Mr Schwig- shhnaps, the currier, sate behind in the rumbill ; master aloan in the inside, as grand as a Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off we sett, bowing gracefiy to the crowd ; the harniss-bells jinglin, the great white bosses snortin, kickin, and squeelin, and the postilium cracking his whip, as loud as if he d been drivin her majesty the quean. ■TV" TV" TT TT Well, I sha'n't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties, willitches, and metrappolishes ; sleeping the fust night at Amiens, which, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done with sugar and brown sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the boasting about them, J think I like our marrmvphats better. Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here concarning them. Master, who was b-'r^jsti^g befor* LORD CRABS BESTOWS ON THE LADIES HIS PARTING BENEDICTION. MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 445 going away, told me to go and get him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald the waiter of the inn, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always do), said '"Bong" (which means, very well), and presently came back. J'tn blest if he duiti't bring master a plate of cabbitch ! Would you bleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they say there's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses are so extonishingly ignorant as to call a cabbidge a shoo ! Never, never let it be said, after this, that these benighted, souperstitious, misrabble savidges, are equill, in any respex, to the great British people. The moor I travvle, the moor I see of the world, and other natiums, I am proud of my own, and despise and deplore the retchid ignorance of the rest of Yourup. ^ ***** My remarks on 'Parris you shall have by an early oppor- tunity. Me and Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you. MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. Chap. L — The Two Bundles of Hay. Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K.C.B., was about seventy-five years old when he left this life, and*the East Jngine army, of which hewas a distinguished ornyment. Sir George's first appearance in Injar was in the character of a cabbingboy to a vessel ; from which he rose to be clerk to the owners at Calcutta, from which he became all of a sudden a capting in the Company's service ; and so rose and rose, until he rose to be a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising alto- gether — hopping the twig of this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors must do. Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the name of Griffin. A widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching twenty-three, was left behind to deploar his loss, and share his proppaty. On old Sir George's deth, his interesting widdo and orfan, who had both been with him in Injer, returned home — tried London for a few months did nol 446 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSH. like it, and resolved on a trip to Paris ; where very small Lon- don people become very great ones, if they've money, as these Grififinses had. The intelligent reader need not be told that Miss Griffin was not the daughter of Lady Griffin ; for though marritches are made tolrabbly early in Injer, people are not quite so precoashoos as all that : the fact is, Lady G, was Sir George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that Miss Matilda Griffin wos the offspring of his fust marritch. Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken out to C:alcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disposed of by her uncle, Captain Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she married Sir George at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine of whom kep a school at Islington (the other 4 being married variously in the city), were not'a little envius of my lady's luck, and not a little ])roud of their relationship to her. One of 'em. Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, and by no means the least ugly of the sett, was staying with her ladyship, , and gev me all the partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, being of a lo sort, I in course no nothink ; my acquaintance, thank my stars, don't lie among them, or the likes of them. Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat sister, in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing! I'd a soon be a gaily slave, as lead the life she did ! Everybody in the house despised her; her ladyship insulted her ; the very kitchen gals scorned and flouted her. She roat the notes, she kep the bills, she made the tea, she whipped the Chocklate, she cleaned the canary birds, and gev out the linning for the wash. She was my lady's walking pocket, or rettycule ; and fetched and carried her handkercher, or her smell-bottle, like a well-bred spaniel. All night, at her ladyship's swarries, she thumped kid rills (nobody ever thought of asking her to dance !) ; when Miss Griffing sung, she played the piano, and was scolded because the singer was out of tune; abommanating dogs, she never drove out without her ladyship's puddle in her lap; and, reglarly unwell in a carriage, she never got anything but the back seat. Poar Jemima ! I can see her now in my lady's seknd-best old clothes (the ladies'-maids always got the prime leavings) : a liloc sattn gown, crumpled, blotched, and greasy: a pair of white sattn shoes, of the color of Inger rubber ; a faded yellow velvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl flowers run to seed, and a bird of Parrowdice perched on the top of it, mclumcolly and moulting, with only a couple of feathers left in his unfortunate tail. Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Ladv and Miss MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 447 Grffin kept a number of other servants in the kitchen ; 2 ladies'- maids ; 2 footmin, six feet high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white cassymear pantyloons ; a coachmin to match ; a page : and a Shassure, a kind of servant only known among forriners, and who looks more like a major-general than any other mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a unicorn covered with silver lace, mustashos, eplets, and a sword by his side. All these to wait upon two ladies ; not counting a host of the fair sex, such as cooks, scullion, housekeepers, and so forth. My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a grand sweet of rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having thus described their house, and their servants' hall, I may give a few words of description concerning the ladies themselves. In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My lady was twenty-seven — a widdo of two years — fat, fair, and rosy, A slow, quiet, cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals generally are, it seemed difficult to rouse her either into likes or dislikes ; to the former, at least. She never loved any- body but one, and that was herself. She hated, in her calm, quiet way, almost every one else who came near her — every one, from her neighbor the duke, who had slighted her at din- ner, down to John the footman, who had torn a hole in her train, I think this woman's heart was like one of them litho- graffic stones, you can't rub out anything vi\\^n once it's drawn or wrote on it ; nor could you out of her ladyship's stone — ■ heart, I mean — in the shape of an affront, a slight, or real or phansied injury. She boar an exlent, irreprotchable character, against which the tongue of scandal never wagged. She was allowed to be the best wife posbill — and so she was ; but she killed her old husband in two years, as dead as ever. Mr, Thurtell killed Mr. William Weare. She never got into a passion, not she — she never said a rude word ; but she'd a genius — a genius which many women have — of making a hcU of a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures of her family, until thev were wellnigh drove mad. Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as amiable as her mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted ; my lady, to do her justice, was straight, and looked the same way with her i's. She was dark, and my lady was fair — senti- mental, as her ladyship was cold. My lady was never in a pnsision — Miss Matilda always ; and awfille were the scenes which used to pass betAvccn these women, anfl the wickid, wickid quarls which took place. Why did they live together ? 448 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSH. There was the mistry. Not related, and hating each other like pison, it would surely have been easier to remain seprat, and so have detested each other at a distans. As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it was clear, was very considrabble — 300 thousand lb. at the least, as I have heard say. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. Some said that her ladyship was sole mistriss of it, others that it was divided, others that she had only a life inkum, and that the money was all to go (as was natral) to Miss Matilda. Thestj are subjix which are not praps very interesting to the British public, but were mighty important to my master, the Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, etsettler. For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very in- timat in this house ; and that we were now comfortably settled at the Hotel Mirabew (pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rew delly Pay, at Paris. We had our cab, and two riding- horses ; our banker's book, and a thousand pound for a balantz at Lafitt's ; our club at the corner of the Rew Gramong ; our share in a box at the oppras ; our apartments, spacious and elygant ; our swarries at court ; our dinners at his excellency Lord Bobtail's and elsewhere. Thanks to poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, we were as complete gentlemen as any in Paris. Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself at the head of a smart sum of money, and in a country where his debts could not bother him, determined to give up for the present everythink like gambling — at least, high play ; as for losing or winning a ralow of Napoleums at whist or ecarty, it did not matter: it looks like money to do such things, and gives a kind of respectabilaty. " But as for play, he wouldn't — oh no ! not for worlds ! — do such a thing." He Jiad played, like other young men of fashn, and won and lost [old fox ! he didn't say he had paid^ ; but he had given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said, to live on his inkum. The fact is, my master was doing his very best to act the re- spectable man : and a very good game it is, too ; but it requires a precious great roag to play it. He made his appearans reglar at church — me carrying a handsome large black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the psalms and lessons marked out with red ribbings ; and you'd have thought, as I graivly laid the volloms down before him, and as he berried his head in his nicely brushed hat, before ser- vice began, that such a pious, proper, morl, young noblcrnail MR. DEUCE ACE A 7' PARTS. 449 was not to be found in the whole of the peeridge. It was a comfort to look at him. Efry old tabby and dowyger at my Lord Bobtail's turned up the wights of their i's when they spoke of him, and vowed they had never seen such a dear, daliteful, exlent young man. What a good son he must be, they said ; and oh, what a good son-in-law! He had the pick of all the English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, unfortunately, most of them were poar ; and love and a cottidge was not quite in master's way of thinking. Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. made their appearants at Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon changed his noat. He sate near them at chappie, and sung hims with my lady : he danced with 'em at the em- bassy balls ; he road with them in the Boy de Balong and the Shandeleasies (which is the French High Park) ; he roat potry in Miss Griffin's halbim, and sang jewets along with her and Lady Griffin ; he brought sweat meats for the puddle-dog ; he gave money to the footmin, kisses and gloves to the sniggering ladies'-maids ; he was sivvle even to poar Miss Kicksey ; there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses that didn't adoar this good young man. The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each other now wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy be- tween them : miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty ; madam of miss's espree : miss taunting my lady about the school at Islington, and my lady snearing at miss for her squint and her crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. They both fell in love with Mr. Deuceace — my lady, that is to say, as much as she could, with her cold selfish temper. She liked Deuceace, who amused her and made her laff. She liked his manners, his riding, and his good loox ; and being a pervinew herself had a dubble respect for real aristocratick flesh and blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flams and fury. She'd always been at this work from the time she had been at school, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master ; next with a footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no means unnatral or unusyouall, as I could show if I liked) ; and so had been going on sins fifteen. She reglarly flung herself at Deuceace's head — such sighing, crying, and ogling, I never see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, as I brought master skoars of rose-colored billydoos, folded up like cock-hats, and smellin like barber's shops, which this very tender young lady used to address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and no mistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good bread- 450 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH ing ; and miss catne a little too strong (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression) with her harder and attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides, she had a crookid spine, and a squint ; so that (supposing their fortns tolrabbly equal) Deuceace reely pre- ferred the mother-in-law. Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most money. With an English famly this would have been easy : a look at a will at Doctor Commons'es would settle the matter at once. But this India naybob's will was at Calcutty, or some outlandish place ; and there was no getting sight of a coppy of it, I will do Mr. Algernon Deuceace the justass to say, that he was so little musnary in his love for Lady Griffin, that he would have married her gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds less than Miss Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both in play, until he could strike the best fish of the two — not a difficult matter for a man of his genus : besides, Miss was hooked for certain. Chap. II. — " Honor thy Father." I SAID that my master was adoared by every person in my Lady Griffin's establishmint. I should have said by every person excep one, — a young French genlmn, that is, who, before our appearants, had been mighty partiklar with my lady, ocku- pying by her side exackly the samepasition which the Honrable Mr. Deuceace now held. It was bewtiffle and headifying to see how coolly that young nobleman kicked the poar Shevalliay de L'Orge out of his shoes, and how gracefully he himself stept into 'em. Munseer de L'Orge was a smart young French jentleman, of about my master's age and good looks, but not possest of half my master's impidince. Not that that quallaty is uncommon in France ; but few, very few, had it to such a degree as my exlent employer, Mr. Deuceace. Besides De L'Orge was reglarly and reely in love with Lady Griffin, and master only pretending : he had, of coars, an advantitch, which the poor Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and gaty, while Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My mas> ter had said twenty pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the shevalier had finished smoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his weskit. O luv, luv ! This isn't the way to win a woman, or my name's not Fitzroy Yellowplush ! My- self, when I begun my carear among the fair six, I was always MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. ^rj sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman. What was the consquints ? The foar fust women I adoared lafft at me, and left me for something more lively. With the rest I haveedopt- ed a different game, and with tolerable suxess, I can tell you But this is eggatism, which I aboar. Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdi- nand Hyppolite Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was reglar cut out by Munseer Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand did not leave the house — he hadn't the heart to do that — nor had my lady the desire to dismiss him. He was usefie in a thousand different ways, getting oppra-boxes, and invitations to French swarrles, bying gloves, and O de Colong, writing French noats, and such like. Always let me recommend an English famly, going to Paris, to have at least one young man of the sort about them. Never mind how old your ladyship is, he will make love to you ; never mind whav errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and do them. Besides, he's always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx moar than a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to consider. Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de L'Orge — the greatest use and comfort to my lady, posbill ; if it was but to laff at his bad pronunciatium of English, it was somethink amusinkj the fun was to pit him against poar Miss Kicksey, she speakia French, and he our naytif British tong. My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this poar young Frenchman ; and having kicked him out of the place which he occupied, sertingly treated his fallen anymy with every respect and consideration. Poor modist down-hearted little Ferdinand adoared my lady as a goddice ! and so he was very polite, likewise, to my master — never venturing once to be jellows of him, or to question my Lady Griffin's right to change her lover, if she choase to do so. Thus, then, matters stood ; master had two strinx to his bo, and might take either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred : com bong huee somblay, as the Frentch say. His only pint was to discover how the money was disposed off, which evidently be- longed to one or other, or boath. At any rate he was sure of one ; as sure as any mortal man can be ni this sublimary spear, where nothink is suttin except unsertnty. * * * * # A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal changed my master's calkylations. One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after suppink of white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang 452 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. glassy (which means, eyced), at their house in the Plas Vandom, nie and master droav hoam in the cab, as happy as possbill. " Chawls youd — d scoundrel," says he to me (for he was in an exlent hunier), "when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis." This he might do, to be sure, without injaring himself, seing that he had as yet never paid me any. But, what then ? Law bless us ? things would be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived on our wagis ; our puckwisits is the thing, and no mistake, I ixprest my gratitude as best I could ; swoar that it wasn't for wagis I served him — that I would as leaf weight upon him for nothink ; and that never, never, so long as I livd, would I, of my own accord, part from such an exlent master. By the time these two spitches had been made — my spitch and his • — we arrived at the " Hotel Mirabeu ; " which, as everybody knows, ain't very distant from the Plas Vandome. Up we marched to our apartmince, me carrying the light and the cloax, master hummink a hair out of the oppra, as merry as a lark. I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in the room ; an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floor, an- other on the table ; near which the sofy was drawn, and on it lay a stout old genlmn, smoaking seagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room. Deuceace (who abommanates seagars, as I've already shown) bust into a furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see for the smoak ; and, with a number of oaves quite unnecessary to repeat, asked him what bisniss he'd there. The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his segar, began a ror of laffin, and said, " What ! Algy my boy ! don't you know me ! " The reader may praps reklect a very affecting letter which was published in the last chapter of these memoars ; in which the writer requested a loan of five hundred pound from Mr. Algernon Deuceace, and which boar the respected signatur of the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Deuceace's own father. It was that dis- tinguished arastycrat who was now smokin and laffin in our room. My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A stowt, burly, red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose seemed blushing atwhathis mouth was continually swallowing; whose hand, praps, trembled a little ; and whose thy and legg was not quite so full or as steddy as they had been in former days. But he was a respecktabble, fine-looking, old nobleman ; and though it must be confest ^ drunk when we fust made our SIR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 453 appearance in the salong, yet by no means moor so than a reel noblemin ought to be. "What, Algy my boy ! " shouts out his lordship, advancing and seasing master by the hand, " doan't you know your own father?" Master seemed anythink but overhappy. " My lord," says he, looking very pale, and speakin rayther slow, " I didn't — 1 confess — the unexpected pleasure — of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir," said he, recovering himself a little ; " the fact is, there was such a confounded smoke of tobacco in the room, that I really could not see who the stranger was who had paid me such an unexpected visit." • "A bad habit, Algernon ; a bad habit," said my lord, light- ing another seagar : " a disgusting and filthy practice, which you, my dear child, will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, but a nasty, idle pastime, unfitting a man as well for mental exertion as for respectable society ; sacrificing, at once, the vigor of the intellect and the graces of the person. By the bye, what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, in this hotel. Could not you send your servant to, get me a few.seagars at the Cafe de Paris ? Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, that's a good fellow." Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of shampang. Ver}^ sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me on the errint. Knowing the Cafe' de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say a word, but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room ; where, as it happened by a singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of the conversation between this exlent pair of re- latifs. " Help yourself, and get another bottle," says my lord, after a solium paws. My poor master, the king of all other compnies in which he moved, seemed here but to play secknd fiddill, and went to the cubbard, from which his father had already igstracted two bottils of his prime Sillary. He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the win- dows, stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and suttnly seamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no use ; the old one would not budg. " Help yourself," says he again, "and pass me the bottil." " You are very good, father," says master ; " but really, I neither drink nor smoke." " Right, my boy : quite right. Talk about a good conscience in this life — a good stomack is everythink. No bad nights, no 454 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. /. YELLOWPLUSH. headachs — eh ? Quite cool and collected for your law studies in the morning ? — eh ? " And the old nobleman here grinned, in a manner which wouid have done creddit to Mr. Grimoldi. Master sat pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier under the cat. He didn't anser a word. His exlant pa went on, warming as he continued to speak, and drinking a fresh glas at evry full stop. " How you must improve, with such talents and such prin- ciples ! Why, Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance : you're not merely a philosopher, man ; hang it ! you've got the philosopher's stone. Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all for 200 a year ! " " I presume, sir," says my master, " that you mean the two hundred a year which you pay me ? " " The very sum, my boy ; the very sum ! " cries my lord, laffin as if he would die. " Why, that's the wonder ! I never pay the two hundred a year, and you keep all this state up up- on nothing. Give me your secret, O you young Trismegistus ! Tell your old father how such wonders can be worked, and I will — yes, then, upon, my word, I will — pay yoii your two hun- dred a year ! " " Eiifi7i, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and losing all patience, " will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit means ? You leave me to starve, for all you care \ and you grow mighty facetious because I earn my bread. You find me in prosperity, and " " Precisely, my boy ; precisely. Keep your temper, and pass that bottle. I find you in prosperity ; and a young gentle- man of your genius and acquirements asks me why I seek your society ? Oh, Algernon ! Algernon ! this is not worthy of such a profound philosopher. Why do I seek you ? Why, because you are in prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil should I bother myself about you ? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, ever get from you a single affectionate feeling ? Did we, or any other of your friends or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honest or generous action 1 Did we ever pre- tend' any love for you, or you for us 1 Algernon Deuceace, you don't want a father to tell you that you are a swindler and a spendthrift ! I have paid thousands for the debts of yourself and your brothers ; and, if you pay nobody else, I am deter^ mined you shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means, when I wrote to you and asked you for a loan of money. I knew you would not. Had I written again to warn you of my coming, yga would have given me the slip . and so I came, MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 455 uninvited, io force you to repay me. That's why I am here, Mr. Algernon ; and so help yourself and pass the bottle." After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, and puffed as much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chimley of a steam-injian. I was pleased, 1 confess, with the sean, and liked to see this venrabble and virtuous old man a- nocking his son about the bed ; just as Deuceace had done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, as I've before shown. Master's face was, fust, red hot ; next, chawk-white ; and then, sky-blew. He looked, for all the world, like Mr. Tippy Cooke in the tragady of F>'ankinstang. At last, he mannidged to speak. " My lord," says he, " I expected when I saw you that some such scheme was on foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at least it is but a family failing ; and I am indebted for my virtues to my father's precious example. Your lordship has, I perceive, added drunkenness to the list of your accomplishments ; and I suppose, under the influence of that gentlemanly excitement, has come to make these preposterous propositions to me. 'When you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, that, fool as I may be, I am not such a fool as you think me ; and that if I have got money, I intend to keep it — every farthing of it, though you were to be ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening as you are now." " Well, well, my boy," said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have been half-asleep during his son's oratium, and recti. ed all his sneers and surcasms with the most complete good-humor ; " well, well, if you will resist, taut pis pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you, recollect, and am not in the slightest degree angry ; but I must and will have a thousand pounds. You had better give me the money at once ; it will cost you more if you don't." " Sir," says Mr. Deuceace, " I will be equally candid. I would not give you a farthing to save you from " Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my hat, said, " I have been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the house is shut." " Bon : there's a good lad ; you may keep the five francs. And now, get me a candle and show me down stairs.'' But my master seized the wax taper. " Pardon me, my lord," says he. " What ! a servant do it, when your son is in the room ? Ah, par exemp/e, my dear father," said he, laughing, "you think there is no politeness left among us." And he led the way out. "Good-night, my dear boy," said Lord Crabs 456 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. "God bless you, sir," says he. "Are you wrapped warm f Mind the step ! " And so this ajOfeckshnate pair parted. Chap. III. — Minewvring. Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants — ■ he seamed to think that his pa's visit boded him no good. I heard him muttering at his brexfast, and fumbling among his hundred pound notes ; once he had laid a parsle of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to his father. " But no," says he at last, clutching them all up together again, and throwing them into his escritaw, "what harm can he do me ? If he is a knave, I know another who's full as sharp. Let's see if we cannot beat him at his own weapons." With that Mr. Deuceace drest himself in his best clothes, and marched off to the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to the fair widdo and the in- tresting orfn. It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on seeing them, a number of planus for the day's rackryation. Riding in the Body Balong, going to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet (who was then the raining sufferin of the French crownd) go to chappie, and, finely, a dinner at 5 o'clock at the Caffy de Parry ; whents they were all to adjourn, to see a new peace at the theatre of the Pot St. Martin, called Sussannar and the Elders. The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepo- sitiums. " We have an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon," said my lady. " Look — a very kind letter from Lady Bobtail." And she handed over a pafewmd noat from that exolted lady. It ran thus : — Fbg. Si. Honor e, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. "My dear Lady Griffin, — It is an age since we met. Harassing public duties oc- cupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have scarce time to see our private friends: among whom, I liope, my dear Lady Griffin wdl allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so very unceremonious an invitation, and dine with us at the embassy to-day? We shall be en petite comity, ■awA shall have the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some of your charming tlau,L;hter's singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, to have addressed a separate note to dear Miss Griffin ; but I hope she will pardon a poor di/ilomatc, who has so many letters to write, you know. " Farewell till seven, when I positively must see you both. Ever, dearest Lady Griffin, your affectionate " Eliza Bobtail." Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's Shassure, and sealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody in the middling ranx of life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with delight; and, long before my master's arrivle, she'd sent Mop MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 457 timer and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, along with a polita reply in the affummatiff. Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt that there was somethink a-going on behind the scans, and, though he could not tell how, was sure that some danger was near him. That old fox of a father of his had begun his M'Inations pretty early ! Deuceace handed back the letter ; sneared, and poohd, and hinted that such an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a pees ally) ; and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent because Lady Bobtail wanted to fill up two spare places at her table. But Lady Griffin and Miss would not have his insinwations ; they knew too fu lords ever to refuse an invi- tatium from any one of them. Go they would ; and poor Deuceace must dine alone. After they had been on their ride, and had had their other amusemince, master came back with them, chatted, and laft ; he was mighty sarkastix with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss ; and left them both in high sperrits to perform their twoUet, before dinner. As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the house), as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw master very quietly taking his pocket-book {ox pot fool, as the French call it) and thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the sofa. What game is this .'' thinx L Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the ladies were gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of his potfolio ; and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it there. " Pray," says he, on going in, " ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for a single moment." And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy to see him. " Law, Mr. Deuceace ! " says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she could, " you quite surprise me ! I don't know whether I ought, really, being alone, to admit a gentleman." " Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey ! for do you know, I came here for a double purpose — to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may, perhaps, have left here ; and then, to ask if you will have the great goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice tea ? " Nice tea ! I thot I should have split ; for I'm blest if master had eaten a morsle of dinner ! Never mind ; down to tea they sat. " Do you take cream and sugar, dear sir ? " says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tendei as a tuttle-duff. 458 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. "Both, dearest Miss Kicksey ! " answers master; who stowed in a power of sashong and muffinx whicli would have done honor to a washawoman. I sha'n't describe the conversation that toolc place betwigst master and this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to talk to her for an hour, and to svv'allow all her tea. He wanted to find out from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at once which of the two Grififinses he should marry. The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, " turned her inside out." He knew everything that she knew ; and that, poar creature, was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly divided betwigst them. Nine ihousa?id a year ! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his heart beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be master of five thousand per hannum ! Yes. But how ? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter ? All the tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge ; and Deuceace thought it a pity that he could not marry both. *M. ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ TT -TT" "Jv Tf "TT TV The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception at the ambasdor's ; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin drive on with a gentlemin who had handed them out — a stout old gentlemin, who shook hands most tenderly at parting, and promised to call often upon my Lady Griffin. He was so polite, that lie wanted to mount the stairs with her ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. "Edward," says she to the coachmin, quite loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotel should hear her, "you will take the carriage, and drive /its lordship home." Now, can you guess who his lordship was ? The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs, to be sure ; the very old genlmn whom 'I had seen on such charming terms with his son the day before. Master knew this the nex day, and began to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousand pound. Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambas- dor's only came to my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, word for word, as they was told me by the very genlmn who waited behind Lord Crabseses chair. There was only a '■'petty comity " at dinner, as Lady Bobtail MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 459 said ; and mj' Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Grif- finses, being mighty ellygant and palite to both. " Allow me,'' says he to Lady G. (between the soop and the fish), " my dear madam, to thank you — fervently thank you for your goodness to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, but, I am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which must fill a fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his child. Believe me," says my lord, looking her full and tenderly in the face, "that the favors you have done to another have been done equally to myself, and awaken in my bosom the same grateful and affectionate feelings with which you have already inspired my son Algernon." Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell into her fish-plate : and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as she would so many musharuins. My Lord (whose powers of slack-jaw was notoarious) nex addrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceace was situated. Miss blusht — what a happy dog he was — Miss blusht crimson, and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and lobster sos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless you ! he was no moar equill to the old man than a mole-hill is to a mounting. Before the night was over, he had made as much progress as another man would in a ear. One almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked leering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, and, above all, the bewtifle, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of his genral conversation. Praps you will say that these ladies were, for such rich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated ; but reck- lect, my dear sir, that they were fresh from Injar, — that they'd not sean many lords, — that they adoared the peeridge, as every honest woman does in England who has proper feelinx, and has read the fashnabble novvles, — and that here at Paris was their fust step into fashnabble sosiaty. Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing " Die tantie" or " Dip your chair,'" or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs (when she began this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets hold of Lady Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a very different strane. " What a blessing it is for us all," says he, " that Algernon has found a friend so respectable as your ladyship." " Indeed, my lord ; and why .? I suppose I am not the only respectable friend that Mr. Deuceace has ? " "No, surely ; not the only one he has had : his birth, and, permit me to say, his relationship to myself, have procured him 46o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. many. But — " (here my lord heaved a very affecting and large sigh). . . '. " But what ? " says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal face. " You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them or is unworthy of them ? " " I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, thoughtless, extravagant, and embarrassed : and you know a man imder these circumstances is not very particular as to his associates." " Embarrassed ? Good heavens ! He says he has two thousand a year left him by a godmother ; and he does not seem even to spend his income — a very handsome independ- ence, too, for a bachelor." My lord nodded his head sadly, and said, — '• Will your lady- ship give me your word of honor to be secret ? My son has but a thousand a year, which I allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, madam, I fear ; and for this reason I am so glad to hear that he is in a respectable domestic circle, where he may learn, in the presence of far greater and purer attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which has been his bane." My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was Deuceace sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper wooing her for her money ? Could she doubt her informer .'' his own father, and, what's more, a real flesh and blood pear of parlyment ? She determined she would try him. Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, until she kem to feel how much she should hate him if she found he'd been playing her false. The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen, — my lord driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking up stairs to their own apartmince. Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, and evidently full of a secret, — something mighty pleasant, to judge from her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies (for in that house they took a cup regular before bed-time), " Well, my lady," says she, " who do you think has been to drink tea with me ? " Poar thing, a frendly face was an event in her life — a tea-party quite a hera ! " Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my lady, looking grave. " I wish. Miss Kicksey, you would not demean your- self by mixing with my domestics. Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin." MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 461 " No, my lady, it was not Lenoir ; it was a gentleman, and a handsome gentleman, too." " Oh, it was Monsieur de I'Orge, then," says Miss ; " he promised to bring me some guitar-strings." " No, nor yet M. de I'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to ask for me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. Algernon Deuceace ;" and, so saying, poar Kicksey fclapped her hands together, and looked as joyfle as if she'd come into a fortin. " Mr. Deuceace here ; and why, pray.? " says my lady, who recklected all that his exlent pa had been saying to her. " Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea ; which he took, and stayed with me an hour, or moar." " And pray. Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite con- tempshusly, " what may have been the subject of your con- versation with Mr. Algernon ? Did you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics ? " Miss M. being what was called a blue (as most humpbacked women in sosiaty are), always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects. " No, indeed ; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know, Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about the weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked best ; and then we talked " (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) " about poor dear Sii George in heaven ! what a good husband he was, and " " What a good fortune he left, — eh. Miss Kicksey ? " says my lady, with a hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. " Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband, and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming to hear him, dear man ! " " And pray. Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him ? " " Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year, and " " What then ? " " Why, nothing ; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had ninety," says poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. " Ninety fiddlesticks ! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the money was left, and to which of us ? " " Yes ; but I could not tell him." " I knew it ! " says my lady, slapping down her teacup, — • « I knew it ! " " Well ! " says Miss Matilda, " and why not. Lady Griffin ? There is no reason you should break your teacup, because 30 462 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. Algernon asks a harmless question. He is not mercenary ; he is all candor, innocence, generosity ! He is himself blessed with a sufficient portion of the world's goods to be content ; and often and often has he told me he hoped the woman of his choice might come to him without a penny, that he might show the purity of his affection." " I've no doubt," says my lady. " Perhaps the lady of his choice is Miss Matflda Griffin ! " and she flung out of the room, slamming the door, and leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, as was her reglar castom, and pour her loves and woas into the buzzom of Miss Kicksey. Chap. IV. — '^Hitting the Nale on the Hedd." The nex morning, down came me and master io Lady Griffinses, — I amusing myself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying his devour-; to the ladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming on her gitter ; my lady was before a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers' books, lawyers' letters, and what not.^ Law bless us! it's a kind of bisniss I should like well enuff ; especially when my hannual account was seven or eight thousand on the right side, like my lady's. My lady in this house kep all these matters to herself. Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentle to mind business. Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in ; she pinted gracefully to a place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. My lady only looked up for a moment, smiled very kindly, and down went her head among the papers agen, as busy as a B. " Lady Griffin has had letters from London," says Miss, " from nasty lawyers and people. Come here and sit by me, you naughty man you ! " And down sat master. "Willingly," says he, "my dear Miss Griffin ; why, I declare, it is quite a tete-a-tete." "Well," says Miss (after the prillimnary ffumries, in coarse), "we met a friend of yours at the embassy,"Mr. Deuceace." " My father, doubtless ; he is a great friend of the ambassa* dor, and surprised me myself by a visit the night before last." " What a dear delightful old man ! how he loves you, Mr, Deuceace ! " " Oh, amazingly ! " says master, throwing his i's to heaven. " He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you ! " Master breathed more freely. " He is very good, my deaf MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 463 father; but blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and at- iached to ine." " He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you were not his eldest son. ' 1 can but leave him the small portion of a younger brother,' he said ; 'but never mind, he has talents, a noble name, and an independence of his own.' " " An independence ? yes, oh yes ; I am quite independent of my father." " Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother ; the very same you told us you know." " Neither more nor less," says master, bobbing his head ; *' a sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin, — to a man of my moderate habits an ample provision." " By the bye," cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the con- versation, " you who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to the aid of poor vie ! Come, naughty boy, and help me out with this long, long sum." Didn't he go — that's all ! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt across the room, and seated himself by my lady ! "Look!" said she, "my agents write me over that they have received a remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. gd. a rupee. Do tell me what the sum is, in pounds and shillings ; " which master did with great gravity. " Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good ; I dare say you are right. I'm sure I can't go through the fatigue to see. And now comes another question. Whose money is this, mine or Matilda's ? You see it is the interest of a sum in India, which we have not had occasion to touch ; and, according to the terms of poor Sir George's will, I really don't know how to dispose of the money except to spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it?" " La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business your- self." "Well, then, Algernon, jw.{ tell me ;"and she laid her hand on his, and looked him most pathetickly in the face. " Why," says he, " I don't know how Sir George left his money ; you must let me see his will, first." "Oh, willingly." Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns ; he was obliged to hold himself doiim. " Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir George's own manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not em.- ploy lawyers much, and this was written on the night before 464 "^^^ MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. going into action." And she read, " ' I, George Griffin,' &c., &c. — you know how these things begin — ' being now of sane mind ' — urn, um, um, — ' leave to my friends, Thomas Abraham Hicks, a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, and to John Monro Mackirkincroft (of the house of Hufifle, Mackirkin- croft, and Dobbs, at Calcutta), the whole of my property, to be realized as speedily as they may (consistently with the interests of the property), in trust for my wife, Leanora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only legitimate child, Matilda Griffin. The interest resulting from such property to be paid to them, share and share alike ; the principal to remain un- touched, in the names of the said T, A. Hicks and J. M. Mac- kirkincroft, until the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, when it shall be paid to my daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors, or assigns.' " " There," said my lady, " we won't read any more ; all the rest is stuff. But now you know the whole business, tell us what is to be done with the money ? " " Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided be- tween you." " Tant mieiix, say I ; I really thought it had been all Ma- tilda's." * * * * * There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been read. Master left the desk at which he had been seated with her ladyship, paced up and down the room for a while, and then came round to the place where Miss Matilda was seated. At last he said, in a low, trembling voice, — " I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have read that will to me ; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear, mercenary, when the object of it is so greatly favored by worldly fortune. Miss Griffin — Matilda ! I know I may say the word ; your dear eyes grant me the permission. I need not tell you, or you, dear mother-in-law, how long, how fondly, I have adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will not affect to say I have not read your heart ere this, and that I have not known the preference with which you have honored me. Speak it, dear girl ! from your own sweet lips : in the presence of an affectionate parent, utter the sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. Matilda, dearest Matilda ! say oh say, that you love me ! " Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell on master's neck, whispering hodibly, "/^t?/" My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth dIR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 46 e grinding, her i's glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white ; for all the world like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of " My dear " (when she's going no niudder her childring, you recklect) ; and out she flounced from the room, without a word, knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near the dor, and leaving my master along with his crook-back mis- tress. I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, I got it in a ruff copy ; only on the copy it's wrote, Lady Griffin, Leonora/" instead of Miss Griffin, Matilda" as in the abuff, and so on. Master had hit the right nail on the head this time he thought : but his adventors an't over yet. Chap. V. — The Griffin's Claws. Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time : thanx to luck — the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the goold nobb, which was the part Deuceace most valued, as well he should ; being a connyshure as to the relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much preferring virging goold like this to poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin. And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace now snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas, had never stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idleness, extravagans, swindling, and debotcher- ies of all kinds (which an't generally very favorable to a young man who has to make his way in the world) ; in spite of all, there he was, I say at the topp of the trea, the fewcher master of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of a fool of a wife. What can mortial man want more 1 Vishns of ambishn now occupied his soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full ; hunters at Melton ; a seat in the house of Com- mins : heaven knows what ! and not a poar footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, in cors, pennytrate into the idears and the busms of men. You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick now from the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; and now, nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in they came, till my pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried 'em out) was puffickly intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, and other sense with which they were impregniated. Here's the contense of three 466 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty years as skee wriosities. Faw ! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as I am copying them down, Billy Doo. No. I. " Monday nKtrning, 2 (^ clack, "'Tis the .witching hoar of night. Luna illnminea my ctamber, and {alls upon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing these words to thee, my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my soul's lord ! when shall the sinie come when the tedious night shall not sepa- rate us, nor the blessed day? Tv/elve ! one I two t I have beard the bells chime, and the quarters, and never cease to think of my husband. My adored Percy, pardon the girlish confession, — 1 have kissed the letter at tliis place. Will thy lips press it too, and remain for a moment 011 the spot which has been equally saluted by your " Matilda?" This was the /usf letter, and was brot to our house by one of the poar footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning, I thot it was for life and death, and woak master at that ex- traornary hour, and gave it to him. I shall never forgit him,, when he red it ; he cramped it up, and he cust and swoar„ applying to the lady who roat, the genlmn that brought it, and me who introjuiced it to his notice such a collection of epitafs as I seldom hered, excep at Billinxgit. The fact is thiss ; for a fust letter, miss's noat was raf/ier too strong and sentymentle. But that was her way ; she was always reading melancholy stoary books — " Thaduse of Wawsaw," the " Sorrows of Mac- Whirter," and such like. After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them ; but handid them over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be answered, in order to kip up appearuntses- The next letter is No. II. " Beloved ! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one! Lady Gntfin, since you* avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your poor Matilda ; has declared that she witl admit no one (heigho ! not "even you,ni>y Algernon); and has locked herself in her own dressing-room. I do believe that she \?,jeahTts, and fancies that you were in love with her! Ha, ha! I could have told her a;wM(?r /o/^—n'est-ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu ! A thousand thousand million kisses ? ,,,,„.. "M. G." " Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock.^' There was another letter kern before bedtime ; for though me and master called at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter at no price. Mortimer and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to sav we were going to be relations ; but I don't spose master was very sorry when he was obleached to come back without seeing the fare objict of his affeckshns. Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game ; ditto on Wens- day ; only, when Vv'C called there, who should we see but our MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 46^ father, Lord Crabs, who was waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying he should be back to dinner at 7, just as me and master came up the stares. There was no admittns for us though. " Bah ! bah ! never mind," says my lord, taking his son affeckshnately by the hand. " What, two strings to your bow ; ay, Algernon ? The dowager a little jealous, miss a little lovesick. But my lady's fit of anger will vanish, and I promise you, my boy, that you shall see your fair one to-morrow." And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking at him as tender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as posbill. Master did not know what to think of it. He never new what "game his old father was at ; only he somehow felt that he had got his head in a net, in spite of his suxess on Sunday. I knew it — I knew it quite well, as soon as I saw the old genlmn igsammin him, by a kind of smile which came over his old face, and was somethink betwigst the angellic and the direbollicle. But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every- thing was bright again. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath of witch I here copy : — No. IX. " Thursday morning, *' Victoria, Victoria ! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to our union, but her consent to receive you as before ; and has promised to forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever think of you as anything but the lover of your Matilda? lam in a whirl of delicious joy and passionate excitement. I have been awake all this long night, thinking of thee, my Algernon, and longing for the blissful hour of meeting. " Come! " M. G." This is the inclosier from my lady : — " I WILL not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply shock me. I iiad been foolish enough to think of other plans, and to fancy your heart (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere than on one at whose foibles you have often laughed with me, and whose verson at least cannot have charmed you. " My stei; -daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least going through the cere- mony of asking my consent ; I cannot, as yet, give it. Have 1 not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in trusting herself to you ? " But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house all those who may be agreeable to her, — certainly you, who are likely to be one day so nearly connected with her. If I have honest reason to believe that your love for Miss Griffin is sincere ; if 1 find in a few months that you yourself are still desirous to marry her, I can, of course, place no further obstacles in your way. " You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise to receive you as I did of old ; you would despise me if I did. I can promise, however, to think no more of .ill that lias passed between us, and yield up my own happiness for that of the daughter of my dear husband. " L. E. G." Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and natral from a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated most scuvvily? Master thought so, and went and made a ^68 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. tender, respeckful speach to Lady Griffin (a little flumry costs nothink). Grave and sorrofle he kist her hand, and, speakin in a very low adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witness how he deplord that his conduct should ever have given rise to such an unfortnt ideer ; but if he might offer her esteem, respect, the warmest and tenderest admiration, he trusted she would accept the same, and a deal moar flumry of the kind, with dark, solium glansis of the eyes, and plenty of white pockit-hankercher. He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool ! he was in a net •^sich a net as I never yet see set to ketch a roag in. Chap. VI. — The Jewel. The Shevalier de I'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my last, who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming it so very strong, now came back to his old place by the side of Lady Griffin :' there was no love now, though, betwigst him and master, although the shevallier had got his lady back agin ; Deuceace being compleatly devoted to his crookid Veanus. The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt crea- ture ; and I shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the heart to do harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious tiger and fire-eater as my master. But I see putty well, after a week, from his manner of going on— of speakin at master, and lookin at him, and olding his lips tight when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him with his i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy. Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated hnn : hated him wuss than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in-law. Praps you phansy that the letter you have juss red was honest ; praps you amadgin that the sean of the reading of the will came on by mere chans, and in the reglar cors of suckmstansies : it was all a gaifie, I tell you — a reglartrap; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, as neatly put his foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve. The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off the feald, back came De I'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender than befor. Por fellow, por fellow ! he really loved this woman. He might as well have foln in love with a bore- constructor ! He was so blinded and beat by the power wich she had got over him, that if she told him black was white he'd MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS- 469 beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'd do it: she wanted something very like it, I can tell you. I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, master used to laff at De I'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. The little creature had a thowsnd of these ; and being small, and a Frenchman, master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humored kind of contemp which a good Brittn ot always to show. He rayther treated him like an intelligent munky than a man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean my lady's footman. All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl betwigst master and Lady Griffin ; when that lady took care to turn the tables. Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've heard the servants say), she used to laff at shevalliay for his obeajance and sivillatty to master. For her part, she wondered how a man of his birth could act a servnt : how any man could submit to such contemsheous behavior from another ; and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at him behind his back ; how, in fact, he ought to hate him cor- jaly, and how it was suttnly time to show his sperrit. Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was angry or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. There got to be frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words flung at each other across the dinner- table ; dispewts about handing ladies their smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge ; or going in and out of a roam fust, or any such nonsince. " For hevn's sake," I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these tiffs, say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, " do, do be calm, Mr. Deuceace. Monsieur de I'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him. You are, both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family, that for its peace as well as your own, you should forbear to quarrel." It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, and it ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never forgit poar little De I'Orge's eyes, when my lady said, " both of you." He stair'd at my lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, going round to master, shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr. Deuce- ace only bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately; Miss heaved a loud O from her busm, and looked up in his face with an igspreshn jest as if she could have eat him up with love ; and the little shevalliay sate down to his soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest if he wasn't crying! He thought 470 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSFT. the widdow had made her declyration, and would have him ; and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time mighty bitter and contempshus, and then feU a-talking with Miss. Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might have done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her marrying anybody else ; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this confision which she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the French shevaleer. And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, that when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag : you find him out at oust when he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his cloven foot the very instnt you tread on it. At least, this is what young roags do ; it requires very cool blood and long practis to get over this pint, and not to show your pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. Old Crabs wouldn't do it ; being like another noblemin, of whom I heard the Duke of Wellington say, while waiting behind his graci's chair, that if you were kicking him from behind, no one standing before him would know it, from the bewtifle smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't got so far in the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. And it's also to be remarked (a very profownd observation for a "oot n'n, but we have i's though we do wear plush britchis), it's to be re- marked, I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angry than another, because honest men yield to other people, roags never do ; honest men love other people, roags only them- selves ; and the slightest thing which comes in the way of thir beloved objects sets them fewrious. Master hadn't led a life of gambling, swindling, and every kind of debotch to be good- tempered at the end of it, I prommis you. He was in a pashun, and when he was in a pashn, a more insalent, insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him ; for I must tell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set master and the shevalliay by the years, she had suxcaded only so far as to make them hate each other pro- fowndly : but somehow or other the 2 cox wouldn't/,^///. I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of her ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls which daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to come from her ; on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker between them, as I've just shown in the tiff which took place at the door of the Sally Mangy. Besides the 2 MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 471 young men, though reddy enough to snarl, were natrally un- willing to cum to bloes. I'll tell you why: being friends, and idle, they spent their mornins as young fashnabbles genrally do, at billiads, fensing, riding, pistle-shooting, or some such im- proving study. In billiads, master beat the Frenchmn hollow (and had won a pretious sight of money from him : but that's neither here nor there, or, as the French say, ouf?y noo) ; at pistle-shooting, master could knock down eight immidges out of ten, and De I'Orge seven ; and in fensing, the Frenchman could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry one of his wes- kit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than oust, for every Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd to do so in the cors of his bisniss ; and knowing each other's cur- ridg, as well as the fact that either could put a hundrid bolls running into a hat at 30 yards, they wairn't very willing to try such exparrymence upon their own hat's with their own heads in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only grould at each other. But to-dav Deuceace was in one of his thunderinsr black humers ; and when iti this way he wouldn't stop for man or clevvle. I said that he walked away from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in his sudden bust of joyfle good- humor ; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, so very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and hott}'-, and, taking his seat at table, no moor mindid the brand- ishmentsof Miss Griffin, but only replied to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us servnts, or abuse of the soop, or the wine ; cussing and swearing like a trooper, and not like a wel-bred son of a noble British peer. " Will your ladyship," says he, slivering ofif the wing of a puily ally bashyma/l, " allow me to help you ? " "I thank you ! no ; but I will trouble Monsieur de I'Orge." And towards that gnlran she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile. " Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de rOrge's carving. You used to like mine once." " You are very skilful ; but to-day, if you will allow me, \ will partake of something a little simpler." The Frenchman helped ; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy. A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandrewd down his shert collar and virging-white weskit. " Confound you ! " says he, '* M. de I'Orge, you have done this on purpose." And down went his knife and fork, over 472 FHE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. went his tumbler of wine, a deal of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready to cry. My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the best joak in the world. De I'Orge giggled and grin'd too. *' Pardong," says he ; "meal pardong, niong share munseer."* And he looked as if he would have done it again for a penny. The little Frenchman was quite in extasis ; he found him- self all of a suddn at the very top of the trea ; and the laff for onst turned against his rivle : he actially had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in English to take a glass of wine. "Veal you," says he, in his jargin, "take a glas of Made're viz me, mi ladi ? " And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English manner and pronunciation. " With the greatest pleasure," says Lady G., most graciously nodding at him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused master before, and this didn't increase his good- humer. Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swear- ing, making himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see ; and my lady employing lier time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing everythink to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came : and by this time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy with pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with smiles and master bloo with rage. " Mr. Deuceace," says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a little chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), " may I trouble you for a few of those grapes ? they look delicious." For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it sliding down the table to De I'Orge ; upsetting, in his way, fruit-plates, glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what. •' Monsieur de I'Orge," says he, shouting out at the top of his voice, "have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted my grapes long ago, and has found out they are sour !" tF tF Tf tP W There was a dead paws of a moment or so. "iv -)F "ff ^ nv " Ah ! " says my lady, " vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans ma propre maison — c'est par trop fort, monsieur." And up she got, and flung out of the room. Miss followed * In tlie long dialogues, we have generally ventured to change the peculiar spelling oi •ur friend Mr. Yellowplush. MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 473 her, screeching out, " Mamma — for God's sake — Lady Griffin ! " and here the door slammed on the pair. Her ladyship did very well to speak French. Dc i'Org& would not have understood her else ; as it was he heard quite enough ; and as the door clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master, and hits him a slap on the face, and says, " Prends 5a, menteur et lache ! " which means, " Take that, you liar and coward ! " — rather strong igspreshns for one genlmn to use to another. Master staggered back and looked bewildered ; and then he gave a kind of a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then me and Mortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence embraced the shevalliay. " A demain ! " says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away not very sorry to git off. When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master : who swallowed a goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pulling out his pus, he presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. " I will give you five more to- morrow," says he, " if you will promise to keep this secrit." And then he walked in to the ladies. " If you knew," says he, going up to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at the keyhole), " the pain I have endured in the last minute, in consequence of the rudeness and insolence of which I have been guilty to your ladyship, you would think my own remorse was punishment sufficient, and would grant me pardon." My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. Deuceace was her daughter's guest, and not hers ; but she certainly would never demean herself by sitting again at table with him. And so saying, out she boltid again. " Oh ! Algernon ! Algernon ! " says Miss, in teers, " what is this dreadful mystery — these fearful shocking quarrels ? Tell me, has anything happened ? Where, where is the chev- alier ? " Master smiled and said, " Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. De I'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute ; he was too much in love for that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe ; and will return to coffee." I knew what master's game was, for if Miss had got a hinkling of the quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her screeming at the "Hotel Mirabeu," and the juice and all to pay. He only stopt for a few minnits and 474 ^-^-^ MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSH. cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend, Captain Bulls- eye, of the Rifles ; with whom, I spose, he talked over this unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De rOrge, saying where his secknd was to be seen. Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallyiianny s Mcssiiiger, which I hear beg leaf to transcribe : — ^^ Fearful diiei. — Yesterday miming, at six o'clock, a meeting took place, in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D — ce-ce, a younger son of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de I'O . The chevalier was attended by Major de M , of the Royal Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far as we have been able to learn the particulars of this deplorable affair, the dispute originated in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliant ornaments of the embassy), and the duel took place on the morning ensuing. " The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateur swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and the combat took place with pistols. "The combatants were placed at forty paces, with direction to advance to a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each was furnished with two pistols. Monsieur de I'O fired almost immediately, and the ball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, who dropped the pistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directh with his right, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A bail has entered above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope that he can recover. " We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow which the chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is some reason for the unusual and deter- mined manner in which the duel was fnnght. "Mr Deu — a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, the Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sad news, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate parental attention. The news only reached his lordship yes- terday at noon, while at breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The noble earl fainted on receiving the intelligence ; but in siiite of the shock to his own nerves and health, persisted in passing last night by the couch of his son." And so he did. " This is a sad business, Charles," says my lord to me, after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. " Have you any segars in the house .'' And, hark ye, send me up a bottle of wine and some luncheon. I can certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dear boy." Chap. VII. — The Consquinsies. The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own accord, in the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which was brot on by the wound. He was kept in bed for six weeks though, and did not recover for a long time after. As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of his advisary. Inflammation came on too ; and, to make an ugly story short, they were obliged to take off his hand at the rist. He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was well, and his wound heel'd ; but I never see a man look so like a devvle as he used sometimes, when he looked down at the stump ! To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd hint MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 475 the mor. She sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her beloved, her unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. I've kep some of the noats as I tell you, and curiously sentimentle they are, beating the sorrows of Mac- Whirter all to nothing. Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and seagars at our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there was an exycution in his own house in England ; and his son was a sure find (as they say) during his illness, and couldn't deny himself to the old genlmn. His eveninx my lord spent reglar at Lady Griffin's ; where, as master was ill, I didn't go any more now, and where the shevalier wasn't there to disturb him. " You see how that woman hates j^ou, Deuceace," szys my Lord, one day, in a fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady Griffin : " she has not done with you yet, I tell you fairly." " Curse her," says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm — " curse her ! but I will be even with her one day. I am sure of Matilda : I took care to put that be3'ond the reach of a failure. The girl must marry me, for her own sake." " For her own sake ! O ho ! Good, good ! " My lord lifted his i's, and said gravely, " I understand, my dear boy : it is an excellent plan." " Well," says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his exlent old father, " as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from the fiend of a step-mother 1 " My lord only gav a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up his hat, walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Van- dome, and go in quite calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless his old face ! such a puffickly good-natured, kind- hearted, merry, selfish old scoundrel, I never shall see again. His lordship was quite right in saying to master that "Lady Griffin hadn't done with him." No moar she had. But she never would have thought of the nex game she was going to play, if somebody hadn^t put her up to it. Who did ? If you red the above passidge, and saw how a venrabble old genlmn took his hat, and sauntered down the Plas Vandome (looking hard and kind at all the nussary-maids — buns they call them in France — in the way), I leave you to guess who was the author of the nex scheam : a woman, suttnly, never would have pitcht on it. In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuce* ace's adventers, and his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkini 476 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. and Blewitt, I had the honor of laying before the public a skidewl of my master's detts, in which was the following itim : " Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s, 4963/. os. od. The I.O.U.se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills amountid to four thowsnd moar. Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in England, and a French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew the Englishman who has drawn them, even though he should be in France. Master did not know this fact — laboring under a very common mistak, that, when onst out of England, he might wissle at all the debts he left behind him. My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who made arrangemints with the persons who possest the fine col- lection of ortografs on stampt paper which master had left behind him ; and they were glad enuif to take any oppertunity of getting back their money. One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard of our hotel, talking to the servant gals, as was my reglar cus- tom, in order to improve myself in the French languidge, one of them comes up to me and says, " Tenez, Monsieur Charles, down below in the office there is a bailiff, with a couple of gendarmes, who is asking for your master — a-t-il des dettes par hasard 1 " I was struck all of a heap — the truth flasht on my mind's hi. "Toinette," says I, for that was the gal's name — "Toinette," says I, giving her a kiss, " keep them for two minnits, as you valyou my affeckshn ;" and then I gave her another kiss, and ran up stares to our chambers. Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound, and was aloud to drive abowt : it was lucky for him that he had the strength to move, " Sir, sir," says I, " the bailiffs are after you, and you must run for your life." " Bailiffs ? " says he : " nonsense ! I don't, thank heaven, owe a shilling to any man." " Stuff, sir," says I, forgetting my respeck ; "don't you owe money in England ? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will be on you in a moment." As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the anty- shamber, and there they were sure enough ! What was to be done.? Quick as litening, I throws off my livry coat, claps my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put on my livry. Then I wraps myself up in his dressing- gown, and lolling down on the sofa, bids him open the door. MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 477 There they were — the bailiff — two jondarms with him — • Toinette, and an old waiter. When Toinette sees master, she smiles, and says : "Dis done, Charles ! ou est done ton maitre? Chez lui, n'est-ce pas? C'est le jeune homme a monsieur," says she, curtsying to the bailiff. The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, " Mais ce n'est pas ! " when Toinette stops him, and says, " Laissez done passer ces messieurs, vieux bete ; " and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking their post in the hall. Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and touching my hat says, " Have you any orders about the cab, sir ? " " Why, no, Chawls," says I ; " I sha'n't drive out to-day." The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having had plenty of English customers), and says in French, as master goes out, " I think, sir, you had better let your servant get a coach, for I am under the painful necessity of arresting you, au nom de la loi, for the sum of ninety-eight thousand seven hun- dred francs, owed by you to the Sieur Jacques Frangois Lebrun, of Paris ; " and he pulls out a number of bills, with master's acceptance on them sure enough. "Take a chair, sir," says I ; and down he sits ; and I began to chaff him, as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, my sad axdent, having lost one of my hands, which was stuck into my busum, and so on. At last after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and bust out in a horse laff. The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect some- thing. " Hola ! " says he ; " gendarmes ! a moi ! a moi ! Je suis floue, vole," which means, in English, that he was regular sold. The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and the waiter. Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand from my dressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck up on the chair one of the neatest legs ever seen. I then pinted myjestickly — to what do you think ? — to my PLUSH TiTES ! those sellabrated inigspressables which have rendered me famous in Yourope. Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts roVd out laffing ; and so did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old Grippard the bailiff looked as if he would faint in his chare. I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel gate, and knew then that my master was safe. 31 478 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. Chap. VIII. — The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo. My tail is droring rabidly to a close : my suvvice with Mr. Deuceace didn't continyou very long after the last chapter, in which I described my admiral strattyjam, and my singular self' devocean. There's very few servnts, I can tell you, who'd have thought of such a contrivance, and very few moar would have eggsycuted it when thought of. But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in sell- ing master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may re- member I woar, and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets, — beyond this, I say, there was to poar master very little advantich in what had been done. It's true he had escaped. Very good. But Frans is not like Great Brittin ; a man in a livry coat, with i arm, is pretty easly known, and caught, too, as I can tell you. Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moarover, if he would. What was to become^ in that case, of his bride — his unchbacked hairis ? He knew that young lady's tempriinong (as the Parishers say) too well to let her long out of his site. She had nine thousand a yer. She'd been in love a duzn times befor, and mite be agin. The Honrabble Algernon Deuceace was a little too wide awake to trust much to the con- stnsy of so very inflammable a young creacher. Heaven bless us, it was a marycle she wasn't earlier married ! I do bleave (from suttn seans that past betwigst us) that she'd have married •^iie, if she hadn't been sejuiced by the supearor rank and in- dianuity of the genlmn in whose survace I was. Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. ^ow was he to manitch .-" He coodn get away from his debts, •ind he wooden quit the fare objict of his affeckshns. He was wbleejd, then, as the French say, to lie perdew, — going out at night, like a howl out of a hivj'^-bush, and returning in the day- time to his roast. For its a maxum in France ( and I wood it were followed in Ingland), that after dark no man is lible for his detts; and in any of the royal gardens — the Twillaries, the Palldy Roil, or the Lucksimbug, for example — a man may wan der from sunrise to evening, and hear nothing of the ojus dunns : they an't admitted into these places of public enjyment and rondy voo any more than dogs ; the centuries at the garden gate having orders to shuit all such. Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation — neithef MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 479 liking to go nor to stay ! peeping out at nights to have an in- terview with his miss; ableagd to shuffle off her repeated ques- tions as to the reason of all this disgeise, and to tails: of his two thowsnd a year jest as if he had it and didn't owe a shilling in the world. Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch. He roat as many noats as she had done befor ; swoar against delay and cerymony ; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, the ardship that the ardor of two arts should be allowed to igspire, the folly of waiting for the consent of Lady Grifhn. She was but a step-mother, and an unkind one. Miss was (he said) a major, might marry whom she liked ; and suttnly had paid Lady G. quite as much attention as she ought, by paying her the compliment to ask her at all. And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when master was pressed about his cause for not coming out till night- time, he was misterus ; and Miss Griffin, when asked why she wooden marry, igsprest, or rather, didii't igspress, a simlar secrasy. Wasn't it hard ? the cup seemed to be at the lip of both of 'em, and yet somehow, they could not manitch to take a drink. But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote by my master over night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer from his seal's beluffd, v/hich ran thus : — MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. "Dearest, — You say you would share a cottage with me ; there is no need, luckily, for that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits at our delayed union. Beloved, do you think vty heart rejoices at our separation ? You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady Grifnn, and tell me that I owe her no further duty. " Adored Algernon ! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to lose a single chance of reconciliation with this unnatural step-mother. Respect for the memory of my sainted father bid me do ail in my power to gain her consent to my imion with you ; nay, shall I own it? prudence dictated the measure ; for to whom should she leave the share of money accorded to her by my father's will but to my father's child. " But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go; and, thank heaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid wealth : we have a competency with- out her. Is it not so. dearest Algernon? . . " Be it as you wish then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor Matilda has yielded to rou her heart long ago ; she has no longer need to keep back her name. Name the hour, ind I will delay no more ; but seek forrefuge in your arms from the contumely and insult which meet me ever here. " Matild.\. "P.S. Oh, .■\lgemon! if you did but know what a noble part your dear father has acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to further our plans, and to soften Lady Griffin ! li is not his fault that she is inexorable as she is. 1 send you a note seut by her to Lord Crabs ; we will laugh at it soon, n'est-ce pas ?" II. * My Lord,— In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in favor of your son 48o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat what I before have been under the necessity of stating to you, — that I do not believe a union with a person of Mr. Deuceace's charactef Would conduce to my step-daughter's happiness, apd therefore re/use nty consent. I will beg you to communicat a the contents of this note to Mr. Deuceace; and implore you no more to touch upon a subject which you must be aware is deeply painful to me. " I remain your lordship's most humble servant, " L. E. Griffin. " The Right Hon. the Ear! of Crabs." " Hang her ladyship ! " says my master, " what care I for it ? " As for the old lord who'd been so afishous in his kind- ness and advice, master recknsiled that pretty well, with think- ing that his lordship knew he was going to marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to get some share of it ; for he roat back the following letter to his father, as well as a flaming one to Miss : " Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awkward business. You knoTf how pamfully I am situated just now, and can pretty well guess both the causes cf my dis« quiet. A marriage with my beloved Matilda will make me the happiest of men. The dear girl consents, and laughs at the foolish pretensions of her mother-in-law. To tell you die truth, I wonder she yielded to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, and find for us a parson, a licence, and make us two into one. We are both major, you know : so that the ceremony of a guardian's consent is unnecessary. " Your affectionate " Algernon Deuceace. " How I regret that difference between us some time back ! Matters are changed now, and shall be more still after the jnarriage." I knew what my master meant, — that he would give the old lord the money after he was married ; and as it was probble that miss would see the letter he roat, he made it such as not to let her see two clearly into his present uncomfrable situation. I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, read- ing both of 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, gave an inegspressable look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, and prest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then they fell a-talking together ; and told me to wait awhile, and I should git an anser. After a deal of counsel tation, my lord brought out a card, and there was simply written on it, To-morrow, at the A mbassador^ s, at Twelve. " Carry that back to your master, Chawls," says he, " and bid him not to fail." You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave him the card and the messinge. Master looked sattaslied with MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 481 both ; but suttnly not over happy ; no man is the day before his marridge j much more his marridge with a hump-back, Harriss though she be. Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did what every man in such suckmstances ought to do ; he made his will, — that is, he made a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to his creditors telling them of his lucky chance ; and that after his marridge he would sutnly pay them every stiver. Before, they must know his povvaty well enough to be sure that paymint was out of the question. To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing that was right, now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenientg to do so. " Chawls," says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, " here's your wagis, and thank you for getting me out of the scrape with the bailiffs : when you are married, you shall be my valet out of liv'ry, and I'll treble your salary." His valit ! praps his butler ! Yes, thought I, here's a chance —a valit to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shavQ him, and read his notes, and let my whiskers grow ; to dress in spick and span black, and a clean shut per day ; muffings every night in the housekeeper's room ; the pick of the gals in the servants' hall ; a chap to clean my boots for me, and my master's opera bone reglar once a week. / knew what a valit was as well as any genlmn in service ; and this I can tell you, he's genrally a hapier, idler, handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his master. He has more money to spend, for genlmn will leave their silver in their waiscoat pockets ; more suxess among the gals ; as good dinners, and as good wine — that is, if he's friends with the butler : and friends in corse they will be if they know which way their interest lies. But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call shutter d'Espang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr. Deuceace's vallit. Days will pass at last — even days befor a wedding (the longist and unpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you, excep, maybe, the day before his hanging) ; and at length Aroarer dawned on the suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds of Hyming the Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss Matilda Griffin. My master's wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had been; for he'd left the whole of his nicknax and trumpry of dressing-cases and rob dy shams, his bewtifle museum of varnished boots, his curous colleckshu pf Stulz and Staub coats, when he had been ableaged to cju^t 482 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. SO sudnly our pore dear lodginx at the Hotel Mirabew ; and being incog at a friend's house, and contentid himself with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a common tailor, with a suffishnt quantaty of linning. Well, he put on the best of his coats — a blue ; and I thought it my duty to ask him whether he'd want his frock again : he was good-natured and said, " Take it and be hanged to you." Half-past eleven o'clock came, and I was sent to look out at the door, if there were any suspicious charicters (a precious good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I can tell you, and an i which will almost see one round a corner) ; and presenly a very modest green glass coach droave up, and in master stept. I didn't, in corse, appear on the box ; because, being known, my appearints might have compromised master. But I took a short cut, and walked as quick as posbil down to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, where his exlnsy the English ambasdor lives, and where marridges are always performed betwigst English folk at Paris. Tf ^ tI tF *sf There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, of that lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine- houses ; and jest as master's green glass coach pulled up, an- other coach drove off, out of which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well, — suffiz, that one had a humpback, and the in- genious reader will know why she came there ; the other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. Well, master's glass coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards of the door ; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gets coachmin to open the door, and comes I to give Mr. u-euceace an arm, when — out of the cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up betwigst the coach and embassy doar ; two other chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, opening it, one says — " Rendezvous, M. Deuceace ! Je avous arrete au nom de la loi ! " (which means, " Get out of that, Mr. D., you are nabbed, and no mistake.") Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side of the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and was for making off that way ; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigst libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, " Fouettez, cocher ! " (which means, "Go it, coachmin ! ") in adespert loud voice ; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the door two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all ; I knew my duty, and so very mornfly I got up behind. MJ?. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 4?3 ** Tiens," says one of the chaps in the street ; " c'est ce drole qui nous a floue I'autre jour." I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to smile. "Oil irons-nous done?" says coachmin to the genimn who had got inside. A deep woice from the intearor shouted out in reply to the coachmin, " A Sainte Pelagie ! " ***** And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the prizn of Sainte Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or Queen's Bentch : but on this subject I'm rather shy of writing, partly because the admiral Boz has, in the history of Mr. Pick- wick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, that mine wooden read very amyousingly afterwids ; and, also, because, to tell you the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer to waist my igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such a dull place. My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat from master to his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken aback, as I can tell you, when she found, after remaining two hours at the Embassy, that her husband didn't make his appearance. And so, after staying on and on, and yet seeing no husband, she was forsed at last to trudge dishconslit home, where I was already waiting for her with a letter from my master. • There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he confest it at oust ; but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery of a friend, infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. However, it didn't matter much ; if he had told her that he had been betrayed by the man in the moon, she would have bleavd him. Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She kep one drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another ; they quarld so much that praps it was best they should live apart ; only my Lord Crabs used to see both, comforting each with that winning and innsnt way he had. He came in as Miss, in tears, was lisning to my account of master's seazure, and hoping that the prisn wasn't a horrid place, with a nasty horrid dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, and nasty horrid bread and water. Law bless us ! she had borrod her ideers from the novvles she had been reading! " O my lord, my lord," says she, "have you heard this fatal story ? " " Dearest Matilda, what ? For heaven's sake, you alarm 484 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSH. me ! What — yes — no — is it — no, it can't be ! Speak ! " says my lord, seizing me by the choler of my coat. " What has happened to my boy ? " " Please you, my lord," says I, " he's at this moment in prisn, no wuss, — having been incarserated about two hours ago." " In prison ! Algernon in prison ! 'tis impossible ! Im- prisoned, for what sum t Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing in my power." " I'm sure your lordship is very kind," says I (recklecting the sean betwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a thowsand lb.) ; " and you'll be happy to hear he's only in for a trifle. Five thousand pound is, I think, pretty near the mark." " Five thousand pounds ! — confusion ! " says my lord, clasp- ing his hands, and looking up to heaven, " and I have not five hundred ! Dearest Matilda, how shall we help him .'' " " Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know how Lady Griffin has the " '* Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say ; but be of good cheer — Algernon, you know, has ample funds of his own." Thinking my lord meant Dawkins' live thousand, of which, to be sure, a good lump was left, I held my tung ; but I cooden help wondering -at Lord Crabs' igstream compashn for his son, and Miss, with her 10,000/. a year, having only 3 guineas in her pockit. I took home (bless us, what a home ?) a long and very in- flamble letter from Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the disappointment ; swoar she lov'd him only the moar for his misfortuns \ made light of them : as a pusson for a paltry sum of five thousand pound ought never to be cast down, 'specially as he had a certain independence in view ; and vowed that nothing, nothing, should ever injuice her to part from him, etsettler, etsettler. I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst me and my lord, and of his handsome offers, and his borrow at hearing of his son's being taken : and likewise mentioned how strange it was that Miss should only have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn : bless us, I should have thot that she would always have carried a hundred thowsand lb. in her pockit ! At this master only said Pshaw ! But the rest of the story about his father seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me repeat it over agin. MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 4^5 He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new lite was breaking in upon him. " Chawls," says he, did you observe — did Miss — did my father seem particularly ifilifnate with Miss Griffin ? " " How do you mean, sir ? " says I. " Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin ? " " He was suttnly very kind to her." " Come, sir, speak at once : did Miss Griffin seem very fond of his lordship ? " " Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed very fond of him." '■ What did he call her ? " " He called her his dearest gal." » Did he take her hand ? " " Yes, and he—" « And he what } " " He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about the misfortn which had hapnd to you." " I have it now ! " says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashly pail — " I have it now — the infernal old hoary scoundrel ! the wicked, unnatural wretch ! He would take her from me ! " And he poured out a volley of oaves which are impossbill to be repeatid here. I thot as much long ago : and when my lord kem with his vizits so pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such game was in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a some- think of it from the Griffinses servnts, that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal capassaties ; he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very small chance of having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, or his respectid father might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. Oh ! he saw it all now — the fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixtat 12 o'clock, and the bayliiifs fixt to come and intarup the marridge ! — the jewel, praps, betwigst him and De rOrge : but no, it was the wo7na7i who did that — a mati don't deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son : a woman may, poar thing! — she's no other means of reventch, and is used to fight with underhand wepns all her life through. Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear that he'd been beat by his father at his own game — a trapp set for him onst, which had been defitted by my presnts of mind — another trap set afterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as he was, was much too good- 486 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly for the sake of doing it. He'd got to that pich that he didn't mind injaries — they were all fair play to him — he gave 'em, and reseav'd them, without a thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it was to benefick himself. And how was this to be done ? By getting the hairiss to himself, to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so ; but I knew his feelinx well enough — he regretted that he had not given the old genlmn the money he askt for. Poar fello ! he thought he had hit it ; but he was wide of the mark after all. Well, but what was to be done ? It was clear that he must marry the gal at any rate — cootky coot, as the French say : that is, marry her, and hang the igspence. To do so he must first git out of prisn — to get out of prisn he must pay his debts — and to pay his debts, he must give every shilling he was worth. Never mind : four thousand jDOund is a small stake to a reglar gambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot for life in prisn ; and when, if he plays it well, it will give him ten thousand a year. So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, and accordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin : — " My Adored Matilda, — Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed in his life, and now finds liim- self condemned to spend it within a prison wall ! Vou know the accursed conspiracy whicli has brought these liabilities upon me, and the foolisli friendship which has cost me so much. But what matters ! We have, as you say, enough, even though I must pay this shameful demand upon me ; and five thousand pounds are as nothing, compared to the happiness which I lose in being separated anight from thee! Courage, however! If I make a sacri- fice it is for you ; and I were heartless indeed if I allowed my own losses to balance for a moment against your happiness. " Is it not so, beloved one ? Is not your happiness bound up with mine, in a union with me ? I am proud to think so — proud, too, to offer such a humble proof as this of the depth and purity of my affection. "Tell me that you will still be mine ; tell me that you will be mine to-morrow ; and to- morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I will be free once more — or if bound, only bound to you! My adorable Matilda! my betrothed bride ! write to me ere the evening closes, for I shall never be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon my prison couch, until they have been first blessed by the sight of a few words from thee! Write to me, love 1 write to me ! I languish for the reply which is to make or mar me for ever. Your affectionate "A. P. D.' Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to carry, and bade me at the same time to try and give it into Miss Grifiin's hand alone, I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I found Miss, as I desired, in a sollatary condition ; and 1 pre- sented her with master's pafewmed Billy. She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and the tears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed until I thought she would bust. She even claspt „ .iVu-*-^' THE LAST STROKE OF FORTUNE. Mr. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. ^>j my hand in her's, and said, "O Charles ! is he very, very miserable ? " " He is, ma'am," says' I ; " very miserable indeed — nobody, upon my honor, could be miserablerer." On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at onst : and sitting down to her eskrewtaw, she immediately ableaged master with an answer. Here it is in black and white : " My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in these arms ! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the same place, at the same hour. Then, then, it will be impossible for aught but death to divide us- M. G." This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles, and cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better is it to be pufhckly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to the writing of the heart. This is 7tiy style : artyfiz I despise, and trust conipleatly to natur : but revnotig a no mootofig, as our continential friends remark : to that nice white sheep, Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire ; that wenrabble old ram, my Lord Crabs his father ; and that tender and dellygit young lamb. Miss Matilda Griffin. She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the noat transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, according to my master's orders, " Miss, if you please, the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace would be very much ableaged to you to keep the seminary which is to take place to-morrow a pro- found se ," when my master's father entered, and I fell back to the door. Miss, without a word, rtisht into his arms, burst into teers agin, as was her reglar way (it must be confest she was of a very mist constitution), and showing to him his son's note, cried, " Look, my dear lord, how nobly your Alger- non, our Algernon, writes to me. Who can doubt, after this, of the purity of his matchless affection ? " My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused, and returning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, " My dear Miss Griffin, he certainly does seem in earnest ; and if you choose to make this match without the consent of your mother-in-law, you know the consequence, and are of course your own mistress." " Consequences ! — for shame, my lord ! A little money, more or less, what matters it to two hearts like ours ? " " Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but Three-per-Cents. are better." " Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the aid of Lady Grifan f " 48S THE MEMOIRS OF Mk. C.J. VELLOWPLUSlf. My lord shrugged his shoulders. "(Be it so, my love," sayS he. " I'm sure I can have no other reason to prevent a union which is founded upon such disinterested affection." And here the conversation dropped. Miss retired, clasping her hands and making play with the whites of her i's. My Idrd began trotting up and down the room, with his fat hands stuck in his britchis pockits, his countnince lighted up with igstream joy, and singing, to my inordnit igstonishment : " See the conquering hero comes! Tiddy diddy doll— tiddydoll, doll, doll." ile began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like mad. I stood amazd— a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't going, then, to make love to Miss Griffin ! Master might marry her ! Had she not got the for .? I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands puppindicklar, tny mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughts passing in my mind, when my lord having got to the last " doll " of his song, just as I came to the sillible " for " of my ventriloquism, or inward speech— we had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, when the meditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of his singin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me up aginst one end of the room, himself flying back to the other : and it was only after considrabble agitation that we were at length restored to anything like a liquilibrium. " What, you hefe, your infernal rascal "i " says my lord. " Your lordship's very kind to notus me," says I ; " I am here." And I gave him a look. He saw I knew the whole game. And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in five minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnlj^, and coming up to me, says : " Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-mor- row." " Must it, sir ? says I ; " now, for my part, I don't think — " " Stop my good fellow ; if it does not take place, what do you gain .? " This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a sit- uation, for master had just enough money to pay his detts ; and it wooden soot my book to serve him in prisn or starving. " Well," says my lord, " you see the force of my argument. Now, look here ! " and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snow> MJi. DEUCE ACE A T PARTS. 489 HUNDRED-PUN NOTE ! " If my son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this ; and I will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you double your present wages." Flesh and blood cooden bear it. " My lord," says I, laying my hand upon my busm, " only give me security," and I'm yours for ever." The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. " Right, my lad," says he, " right — you're a nice promising youth. Here is the best security." And he pulls out his pocket- book, returns the hundred-pun bill, and takes out one for fifty. " Here is half to-day ; to-morrow you shall have the remainder." My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit of paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had in my life. I cast my i upon the amount : it was a fifty sure enough — a bank poss-bill, made payable to Leonora Efnilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to see the game. " Recollect, from this day you are in my service." " My lord, you overpoar me with your faviours." " Go to the devil, sir," says he : " do your duty, and hold your tongue." And thus I went from the service of the Honorable Al- gernon Deuceace to that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs. ******* On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus place to which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him ; and felt for him, I must say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he — a swindler, who had robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance ; who had cheated his fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridge with a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn on my purt ; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckm- stansies of my privit intervew with his exlnsy my present master. I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satisfied air. Then, turning to me, says he : " You gave this to Miss Griffin alone ? " " Yes, sir." " You gave her my message ? " " Yes, sir." ** And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave either the message or the note ? " *' Not there upon my honor," says I. ^go THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. " Hang your honor, sir ! Brush my hat and coat, and go call a coach — do you hear ? " At, 41. ^ -Uf -^ ^ ^ TT -TT "Tv" -TT -TT "A" TV I did as I was ordered ; and on coming back found master in what's called, I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in waiting had out a great register, and was talking to master in the French tongue, in coarse ; a number of poar prisners were looking eagerly on. " Let us see, my lor," says he ; the debt is 98,700 francs ; there are capture expenses, interest so much ; and the whole sum amounts to a hundred thousand francs, vioins 13." Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocket- book four thowsnd pun notes. " This is not French money, but I presume that you know it, M. Greffier," says he. The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, who had one or two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to be there. " Les billets sont bons," says he. " Je les prendrai pour cent mille douze cent francs, et j'espere, my lor, de vous revoir." " Good," says the greffier ; " I know them to be good, and I will give my lor the difference, and make out his release." Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the great dubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace stept out, and me after him, to breathe the fresh hair. He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free again — free, and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day. But, for all that, he lookt very faint and pale. He had put down his great stake ; and when he came out of Sainte Pelagic, he had but fifty pounds left in the world ! Never mind — when onst the money's down, make your mind easy ; and so Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew, where he ordered apartmince infinately more splendid than befor ; and I pretty soon told Toinette, and the rest of the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, and how he valyoud four thousand pound no more than ditch water. And such was the consquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, that the delighted landlady immediantly charged him dubble what she would have done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the, nex week ; a carridge-and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely ; and having settled all these things, went quietly to the " Roshy de Cancale," where he dined : as well he might, for it was now eight o'clock. I didn't spare the shompang neither that night, MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARTS. 491 I can tell you ; for when I carried the note he gave me for Miss Griffin in the evening, informing her of his freedom, that young lady remarked my hagitated manner of walking and speaking, and ^aid, " Honest Charles ! he is flusht with the event of the day. Here, Charles, is a napoleon ; take it and drink to your mistress." I pockitid it ; but, I must say, I didn't like the money — it went against my stomick to take it. Chap. IX. — The Marriage, Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was waiting at the ambasdor's doar ; and Miss Griffin and the faithfle Hicksey were punctial to the apintment. I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary — how the embasy chapling jined the hands of this loving young couple — how one of the embasy footmin was called in to witness the marridge — how Miss wep and fainted, as usial — and how Deuce- ace carried her, fainting,' to the brisky, and drove off to Fon- tingblo, where they were to pass the fust weak of the honey- moon. They took no servnts, because they wisht, they said, io be privit. And so, when I had shut up the steps, and bid the postilion drive on, I bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and went off strait to his exlent father. " Is it all over, Chawls ? " said he. "I saw them turned off at igsackly a quarter past 12, my lord," says I. " Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before her marriage ? " " I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bob- tail's man ; who can swear to her having had it." I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper which Lady Griffin had written, and which I was comishnd to give in the manner menshnd abuff. It ran to this effect : — •' According to the authority given me by the will of my late dear husband, I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union, I warn her that she must abide by the consequences of her act. " Leonora Emilia Griffin." «' Rue de Rivoli, May 8, i8i8." When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit before my master's arrivle, she only read it contempti- ously, and said, " I laugh at the threats of Lady Griffin ; " and 492 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. she toar the paper in two, and walked on, leaning on the arnt of the faithful and obleaging Miss Kicksey. I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my lord. Not that there was any necessaty ; for he'd kep a fopy, and made me and another witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) read them both, before he sent either away. " Good ! " says he ; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of that bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yes- terday. " I keep my promise, you see, Charles," says he. " You are now in Lady Griffin's service, in the place of Mr. Fitz- clarence, who retires. Go to Froje''s, and get a livery." " But, my lord," says I, " I was not to go into Lady Griffin* ses service, according to the bargain, but into " " It's all the same thing," says he ; and he walked off. I went to Mr. Froje's, and ordered a new livry ; and found, lik- wise, that our coachmin and Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My lady's livery was changed, and was now of the same color as my old coat at Mr. Deuceace's ; and I'm blest if there wasn't a tremenjious great earl's corronit on the butins, instid of the Griffin rampint, which was worn befoar. I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured ; and slep that night at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with the carridge for a day or two, though ; my lady only taking one footmin, she said, until her new carridge was turned out I think you can guess what's in the wind now / I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzen lawn sherts and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary for a genlmn in my rank. Silk stockings was pro- vided by the rules of the house. And I completed the bisniss by writing the following ginteel letter to my late master : — "CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE A. P. DEUCEACE. " SuR,— Suckmstansies have aciird sins I last had the honner of wating on you, whicb render it impossibil that I should remane any longer in your suvvice. I'll thank you t« leave out my thinx, when they come home on Sattady from the wash. " Your obeajnt servnt, , Charlbs Ykllowplush.'' "P&f Venddme." The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious ; but ke voolyvoo ? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the ex- pearance in writing which I've enjide sins. Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in the nex chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 493 Chap. X. — The Honey-Moon. The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away ; and at the end of it, our son and daughter-in-law — a pare of nice young tuttle-duvs — returned to their nest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I suspeck that the cock turtle-dove was preshos sick of his barging. When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table was a large parsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a couple of cards, tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the parsle was a hansume piece of plum-cake, with a deal of sugar. On the cards was wrote, in Goffick characters Carl of Crab<. And, in very small Italian, Countess of Crabs And in the paper was the following parrowgrafif : — " Marriage in High Life. — Yesterday, at the British embassy, the Right Honorable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl of Crabs, to Leonora Emilia, widow of the late Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. B. An elegant dejeime was given to the happy couple by his Excellency Lord Bobtail, who gave avray the bride. The elite of the foreign diplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia on behalf of H. M. the King of France, honored the banquet and the marriage ceremony. Lord and Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at Samt Cloud." The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of which I have also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace on their arrivle from Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what Deuceace said ; but I can fancy how he lookt, and how poor Mrs. Deuceace lookt. They weren't much incline to rest after the fiteeg of the junny ; for, in Y^ an hour after their arrival at Paris, the bosses were put to the carridge agen, and down they came thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud (pronounst by those absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chaste love and delishs marridge injyments. My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling 494 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOlVPLUSff. on a sofa at an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle ; he-j ladyship, who, to du her justice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end of the room, and was working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an umbrellore case, or a coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would have thought to have scan 'em that they had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon this conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, " My lord, here's your son and daughter-in-law." "Well," says my lord, quite calm, " and what then ? " " Mr. Deuceace ! " says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. " Yes, my love, my son ; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, say that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace ; and that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. Sit still, my blessing— take things coolly. Have you got the box with the papers ? " My lady pointed to a great green box— the same from which she had taken the papers, when Deuceace fpst saw them, — and handed over to my lord a fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, gave my messinge, and bowed them palitely in. My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little quicker, but I can't say) ; my lady sat upright, looking handsum and strong. Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his wife and hat on the other. He looked very pale and frightened ; his wife, poar thing ! had her head berried in her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she was less than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at onst, and held out her arms — she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and I respect her for it. The poor hunch- back flung herself into Miss's arms, with a kind of whooping screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite a historical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, in cors, left the door ajar. " Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy ! " says my lord, in a Joud, hearty voice. " You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you rogue ? But we knew it, my dear fellow : we knew the whole afifair — did we not, my soul ? — and you see, kept our secret better than you did yours." " I must confess, sir," says Deuceace, bowing, " that I had no idea of the happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law." ♦' No, you dog ; no, no," says my lord, giggli/ig : " old birds, At.. MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 495 you know, not to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we are, all spliced and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon ; let us smoke a segar, and talk over the perils and adventures of the last month. My love," says my lord, turning to his lady, " you have no malice against poor Algernon, I trust ? Pray shake his hand.^' (A grin.) But my lady rose and said, " I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I nev^er wished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, to change my opinion." And herewith she sailed out of the room, by the door through which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. "Well, well," says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, "I was in hopes she had forgiven you ; but I know the whole story, and I must confess you used her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow ! — that was your game, was it, you rogue ? " " Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and Lady Grif — Lady Crabs, before our quarrel } " " Perfectly — you made love to her, and she was almost in love with you ; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off in revenge : no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace ; no more sauter la coupe. I can't think how the deuce you will manage to live without them." " Your lordship is very kind ; but I have given up play alto- gether," says Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. "Oh, indeed ! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he ? This is better and better. Are you thinking of going into the church, Deuceace ? " " My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious ? " " Serious ! a quoi hon ? I am serious — serious in my surprise that, when you might have had either of these women, you should have preferred that hideous wife of yours." " May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish about a wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to your own son ? " says Deuceace, growing fierce. " How can you ask such a question ? I owe forty thousand pounds — there is an execution at Sizes Hall — every acre I have is in the hands of my creditors ; and that's why I married her. Do you think there was any love ? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's not a fool — she married me for my coronet, and I married her for her money." " Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I mai' ried the daughter-in-law." " Yes, but I do, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to I|96 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. live ? Dawkins's five thousand pounds won't last for ever ; and afterwards ? " " You don't mean, my lord — you don't — I mean, you can't D — ! " says he, starting up, and losing all patience, " you don't dare to say that Miss Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year ? " My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another segar ; he lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly — " Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year." " Well, sir, and has she not got it now ? Has she spent it in a week ? " ^'' She has not got a sixpejice now: she married without hef mother's cojisent/^^ Deuceace sunk down in a chair ; and I never see such a dreadful picture of despair as there was in the face of that retchid man ! — he writhed, and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled madly the stump of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he threw it over his livid pale face, and sinking backwards, fairly wept alowd. Bah ! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying ! his pashn torn up from the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git such a vent. My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and went on. " My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have left you alone in peace, with your four thousand pounds ; you might have lived decently upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per cent., where your duns would not find you, and a couple of hundred a year would have kept you and your wife in com- fort. But, you see, Lady Crabs would not listen to it. You had injured her ; and, after she had tried to kill you and failed, she determined to ruin you, and succeeded. I must own to you that I directed the arresting business, and put her up to buying your protested bills : she got them for a trifle, and as you have paid them, has made a good two thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painful thing to be sure, for a father to get his son arrested ; but que voidez-vous ? I did not appear in the transaction : she would have you ruined ; and it was absolutely necessary that you should marry before I could, so I pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the happy man you are. You rogue, you rogue ! you thought to match your old father, did you ? But, never mind ; lunch will be ready soon. In the meantime, have a segar, and drink a glass pf Sauterne," MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 497 Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up wildly. "I'll not believe it," he said : " it's a lie, an infernal lie ! forged by you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet you have married, I'll not believe it : show me the will, Matilda ! Matilda !" shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and flinging open the door by which she had gone out. " Keep your temper, my boy. You are vexed, and I feel for you : but don't use such bad language : it is quite needless, believe me." " Matilda ! " shouted out Deuceace again ; and the poor crooked thing came trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. " Is this true, woman ? " says he, clutching hold of her hand. " What, dear Algernon ? " says she, " What ? " screams out Deuceace, — " what ? Why that you are a beggar, for marrying without your mother's consent — that you basely lied to me, in order to bring about this match — that you are a swindler, in conspiracy with that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife ? " " It is true," sobbed the poor woman," " that I have nothing ; but " " Nothing but what ? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool ? " " I have nothing ! — but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is that not enough for us ? You love me for myself, don't you, Algernon? You have told me so a thousand times — say so again, dear husband; and do not, do not be so unkind," And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, and tried to catch his hand, and kiss it. *' How much did you say ? " says my lord. " Two thousand a year, sir ; he has told us so a thousand times." '■'• Two thousand! Two thou — ho, ho, ho! — haw! haw! haw!" roars my lord. "That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My dear creature, he has not a shilling — not a single maravedi, by all the gods and goddesses." And this exlnt noblemin began laffin louder than ever : a very kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. There was a paws : and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing at her husband as he had done at her : she only said, " O Algernon ! is this true ? " and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. My lord opened the great box. " If you or your lawyers 498 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. would like to examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your ser- vice • you will see here the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire fortune to Lady Griffin — Lady Crabs that is : and here, my dear boy, you see the danger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed you i\\^ first page of the will, of course : she wanted to try you. You thought you made a great stroke in at once proposing to Miss Griffin — do not mind it, my love, he really loves you now very sincerely ! — when, in fact, you would have done much better to have read the rest of the will. You were completely bitten, my boy — humbugged, bamboozled — ay, and by your old father, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused to lend me a portion of your Dawkins money. I told you I would ; and I did. I had you the very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy ; don't try your luck again against such old hands : look deuced well before you leap : audi alteram partetn, my lad, which means, read both sides of the will. I think lunch is ready : but I see you don't smoke. Shall we go in ? " " Stop, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, very humble : " I shall not share your hospitality — but — but you know my condi- tion ; I am penniless — you know the manner in which my wife has been brought up- " The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, as if nothing had occurred to interrupt the friend- ship between her dear mother and herself." " And for me, sir," says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow ; " I hope — I trust — I think, my lord, you will not forget me ? " " Forget you, sir ; certainly not.' " And that you will make some provision ? " " Algernon Deuceace," says my lord, getting up from the sophy, and looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as J never see, " I declare, before heaven, that I will not give you a penny ! " Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, " My dear, will you join your mother and me ? We shall always, as I said, have a home for you." " My lord," said the poar thing, dropping a curtsey, "my home is with hi?n !" ******* ****** ******* About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, and the autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my MR. DEUCE ACE A T PARIS. 499 lady, me and Mortimer, were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong, the carridge driving on slowly ahead, and us as happy as possbill, admiring the pleasant woods and the goldn sunset. My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit beauty of the sean, and pouring forth a host of butifle and vir- tuous sentaments sootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. " Ah ! " said he, " black must be the heart, my love, which does not feel the influence of a scene like this ; gathering as it were, from those sunlit skies, a portion of their celestial gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven with each pure draught of this delicious air ! " Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked up- wards. Mortimer and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean and lent on our goold sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to us, and my lord and my lady sauntered slowly lords it. Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a poorly drest woman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom I thought I'd sean befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat, with white seems and copper buttons ; a torn hat was on his head, and great quantaties of matted hair and wiskers disfiggared his countnints. He was not shaved, and as pale as stone. My lord and lady didn't tak the slightest notice of him, but past on to the carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took our places. As we past, the man had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, who was holding down her head sobbing bitterly. No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, with igstream dellixy and good natur, bust into a ror of lafter, peal upon peal, whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening silents. Deuceace turned round. I see his face now — the face of a devvle of hell ! Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to it with his maimed arm ; then he raised the other, mid struck the woman by his side. She fell, screaming. Poor thing ! Poor thing ! ■■^ 500 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end cf my corrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part with me as I am with the public ; becaws I fansy reely that we've become frends, and feal for my part a becoming greaf at saying ajew. It's impossbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I have done — violetting the rules of authography, and trampling upon the fust princepills of English grammar. When I began, I knew no better : when I'd carrid on these papers a little fur- ther, and grew accustmd to writin, I began to smel out some- think quear in my style. Within the last sex weaks I have been learning to spell : and when all the world was rejoicing at the festivvaties of our youthful Quean — * when all i's were fixt upon her long sweet of ambasdors and princes, following the splendid carridge of Marshle the Duke of Damlatiar, and blink- ing at the pearls and dimince of Prince Oystereasy — Yellow- plush was in his loanly pantry — his eyes were fixt upon the spelling-book — his heart was bent upon mastring the diffickle- ties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, convertid. You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house ; and ever sins his third son has got a place in the Treasury, his secknd a captingsy in the Guards, his fust, the secretary of em- basy at Pekin, with a prospick of being appinted ambasdor at Loo Choo — ever sins master's sons have reseaved these atten- tions, and master himself has had the proniis of a pearitch, he has been the most reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in or out of the House of Commins, Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave littery pipple ; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose name do you think I had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a wick ago .'' After several dukes and markises had been enounced, a very gentell fly drives up to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen. One was pail, and wor spektickles, a wig, and a white neckcloth. The other was slim with a hook nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a pare of falling shoulders, a tight coat, and a catarack of black satting tumbling out of his busm, and falling into a gilt velvet weskit. The little genlmn settled * This was written in 1838. MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S A JEW. ^ot his wigg, and pulled out his ribbins ; the younger one fluffed the dust of his shoos, looked at his wiskers in a little pockit- glas, settled his crevatt ; and they both mounted up stairs. " What name, sir? " says I, to the old genlmn. "Name! — a! now, you thief o' the wurrld," says he, " do you pretind nat to know me ? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa — no, I mane the Litherary Chran — psha ! — bluthanowns ! — say it's DocTHOR DiocLESiAN Larner — I think he'll know me now — ay, Nid ? " But the genlmn called Nid was at the botm of the stare, and pretended to be very busy with his shoo-string. So the little genlmn went up stares alone, " Doctor Diolesius Larner ! " says I. " Doctor Athanasius Lardner ! " says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd footman, on the fust landing-place. " iUoctor Jgnatius £ogola ! " says the groom of the cham- bers, who pretends to be a schollar ; and in the little genlmn went. When safely housed, the other chap came ; and when I asked him his name, said, in a thick, gobbling kind of voice : " Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig." " Sir what ? " says I, quite agast at the name. " Sawedwad — no, I mean J//i-/^wedwad Lyttn Bulwig." My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice shook, as I past up the venrabble name to the other footman, and saw this fust of English writers go up to the drawing- room ! It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the com- pny, or to'dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to say that the two littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have good appyfights ; igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who et, drunk, and talked as much as -|- a duzn. He told how he'd been presented at cort by his friend, Mr. Bul- wig, and how the Quean had received 'em both, with a dignity undigscribable ; and how her blessid Majisty asked what was the bony fidy sale of the Cabinit Cyclopaedy, and how he (Doctor Larner) told her that, on his honner, it was under ten thowsnd. You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, was pretty far gone. The fact is, that whether it was the coro- nation, or the goodness of the wine (cappitle it is in our house, / can tell you), or the natral propensaties of the gests assem- bled, which made them so igspecially jolly, I don't know ; but they had kep up the meating pretty late, and our poar butler was quite tired with the perpechual baskits of clarrit which he'd been called upon to bring up. So that about 1 1 o'clock, if I -otrere to say they were merry, I should use a mild term i 502 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. if I wer to say they were intawsicated, I should use an igs- presshn more near to the truth, but less rispeckful in one of my situashn. The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute exton- ishment. " Pray, Doctor Lardner," says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep up the littery conversation, *' what is the Cabinet Cyclo- paedia ? " " It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld," says he ; " and sure your lordship must have seen it ; the latther numbers ispicially — cheap as durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shil- lings a vollum. The illusthrious neems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther Southey, Sir James Mackintosh, Doc- ther Donovan, and meself, are to be found in the list of con- thributors. It's the Phaynix of Cyclopajies — a litherary Ba- con." " A what ? " says the genlmn nex to him. " A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age ; fild wid the pure end lambent flame of science, burning with the gorr- geous scintillations of divine litherature — a mo7iuminhtm, in fact, are perinnius, bound in a pink calico, six shillings a vol- lum." " This wigmawole," said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather disgusted that his friend should take up so much of the convas- sation), " this wigmawole is all vewy well ; but it's cuwious that you don't wemember, in chawactewising the litewawy the mewits of the vawious magazines, cwonicles, weviews, and en- cyclopaedias, the existence of a cwitical weview and litewawy chwonicle, which, though the aiwa of its appeawance is dated only at a vewy few months pwevious to the pwesent pewiod, is, nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic mewits as to be wead, not in the metwopolis alone, but in the countwy — not in Fwance merely, but in the west of Euwope — whevvever our pure Wenglish is spoken, it swetches its peaceful sceptre — pewused in Amewica, fwom New York to Niagawa — wepwinted in Canada, from Montweal to Towonto — and, as I am gwatified to hear from my fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle, wegularly weceived in Afwica, and twanslated into the Man- dingo language by the missionawies and the bushwangers. I need not say, gentlemen — sir — that is, Mr. Speaker — I mean, Sir John — that I allude to the Litewawy Chwonicle, of which I have honor to be pwincipal contwibutor." "Very true, my dear Mr. Bullwig," says my master: "you and I being Whigs, must of course stand by our friends ; and I MR. YELL O IVPL USH'S AJE m ^03 will agree, without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary what-d'ye-caU'em is the prince of periodicals." " The Pwince of Pewiodicals ? " says Bullwig ; " my dear Sir John, it's the empewow of the pwess." " Soif, — let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically call it : but, between ourselves, confess it, — Do not the Tory writers beat your Whigs hollow ? You talk about magazines. Look at " " Look at hwat ? " shouts out Larder. " There's none, Sir Jan, compared to ourrs." " Pardon me, I think that " " It is ' Bentley's Mislany ' you mane ? " says Ignatius, as sharp as a niddle. "Why, no; but " " O thin, it's Co'burn, sure ; and that divvle Thayodor — a pretty paper, sir, but light — thrashy, milk-and-wathery — not sthrong, like the Litherary Chran — good luck to it." " Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name of the periodical, — it is Eraser's Magazine." " Freser ! " says the Doctor. " O thunder and turf ! " " Fwaser ! " says Bullwig. " O — ah — hum — haw — yes — no — why, — that is weally — no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the name of the pewiodical. By the bya, Sir John, what remarkable good clawet this is ; is it Lawose or Laff ? " Laff, indeed ! he couldn't git beyond laff ; and I'm blest if I could kip it neither, — for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind the skreend, settlin sumthink for a genlmn, I bust into such a raw of lafifing as never was igseeded. " Hullo ! " says Bullwig, turning red. " Have I said any- thing impwobable, aw widiculous ? for, weally, I never befaw wecollect to have heard in society such a twemendous peal of cachinnation — that which the twagic bard who fought at Ma- wathon has called an aiiewithmon gelasjna.^' "Why, be the holy piper," says Larder, "I think you are dthrawing a little on your imagination. Not read Frasepl Don't believe him, my lord duke ; he reads every word of it, the rogue ! The boys about that magazine baste him as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out. Sir Jan, was because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has every sylla- ble of it be heart — from the paillitix down to the ' Yellowplush Correspondence.' " " Ha, ha ! " says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my years prickt up when I heard the name of the ' Yellowplush 5 04 THE MEMOIRS OP- MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUStT. Correspondence '). " Ha, ha ! why, to tell twuth, I have wead the cowespondence to which you alhide : it's a gweat favowite at court. I was talking with Spwing Wice and John Wussell about it the other day." "Well, and what do you think of it ? " says Sir John, looking mity waggish — for he knew it was me who roat it. " Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about the cweature ; but it's low, disgustingly low : it violates pwobability, and the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a positive study to compwehend it." " Yes, faith," says Larner ; " the arthagraphy is detestible ; it's as bad for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak with a brrogue. Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my lord, and good luck to you." "Yaw wemark," says Bullwig, "is vewy appwopwiate. You will wecollect, Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you. Doctor, you know more about Iwish than about Gweek), — you will wecollect, without doubt, a stowy nawwated by that cwedulous though fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind of sheep which is known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of which the tail is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or is bound up by the shepherds of the country into a small wheel- bawwow, or cart, which makes the chwonicler sneewingly we- mark that thus ' the sheep of Awabia have their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this clawet is weally nectaweous), — • I have often, I say, thought that the wace of man may be com- pawed to these Awabian sheep — genius is our tail, education our wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop it, this genius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or injured by the wocks upon the way : with the wheelbawwow it is stwengthened, incweased, and supported — a pwide to tho owner, a blessing to mankind." "Avery appropriate simile," says Sir John; "and I am afraid that the genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support." " Apropos," said Bullwig, " who is Yellowplush ? I was given to understand that the name was only a fictitious one, and that the papers were written by the author of the ' Diary of a Physi- cian ; ' if so, the man has wonderfully improved in style, and there is some hope of him." " Bah! " says the Duke of Doublejowl ; " everybody knows it's Barnard, the celebrated author of ' Sam Slick.' " " Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig ; " it's the authoress of ' High Life,' ' Almack's,' and other fashionable novels." MJi. YELLOWPLUSWS AJEW. 505 "Fiddlestick's end !" says Doctor Larner ;" don't be blush- ing and pretinding to ask questions : don't we know you, Bull- wig ? It's you yourself, you thief of the world : we smoked you from the very beginning." Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John inter- rupted them, and said, — "I must correct you all, gentle- men ; Mr. Yellowplush is no other than Mr. Yellowplush : he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your last glass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an ornament of my kitchen ! " " Gad ! " says Doublejowl, " let's have him up." " Hear, hear ! " says Bagwig. "Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and talk to a footman, sure ? Is it gintale ? " " To say the least of it," says Bullwig, " the pwactice is iwwegular and indecowous ; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way pwofitable." But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was wrung ; butler came. " Send up Charles," says master ; and Charles, who was standing behind the skreand, was persnly abliged to come in. " Charles," says master, " I have been telling these gentle- men who is the author of the ' Yellowplush Correspondence' in Fr user's Magazine ^ " It's the best magazine in Europe," says the duke. "And no mistake," says my lord. " Hwhat ! " says Larner ; " and where's the Litherary Chran ? " I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like pickle-cabbitch. " Mr. Yellowplush," says his grace, " will you, in the first place, drink a glass of wine ? " I boughed agin. " And what wine do you prefer, sir ? humble port or imperial burgundy ? " "Why, your grace," says I, "I know my place, and ain't above kitchin wines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to the health of this honrabble conipny." When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me the honor to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit ; when my master said : — "Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's Magazine with so much curiosity, and have so high an 5o6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J YELLOWPLUSH. opinion of your talents as a writer, that I really cannot keep you as a footman any longer, or allow you to discharge duties for which you are now quite unfit. With all my admiration for your talents, Mr. Yellowplush, I still am confident that many of your friends in the servants'-hall will clean my boots a great deal better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to do — it is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may be writing articles in magazines. But — you need not look so red, my good fellow, and had better take another glass of port — I don't wish to throw you upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have made interest for a little place which you will have under Government, and which will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum ; which you can double, I presume, by your literary labors." " Sir," says I, clasping my hands, and bursting into tears, " do not — for heaven's sake, do not ! — think of any such think, or drive me from your suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in magaseens. Glans but one moment at your honor's plate — every spoon is as bright as a mirror ; condysend to igs- amine your shoes — your honor may see reflected in them the fases of every one in the company. / blacked them shoes, 1 cleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the foot- man in the litterary man, and committed to paper my remindi- cences of fashnabble life, it was from a sincere desire to do good, and promote nollitch : and I appeal to your honor, — I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of this noble company beg you to say, When you rung your bell, who came to you fust ? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up for you ? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his station, and answered the two-pair bell ? Oh, sir," says I, " I know what's what ; don't send me away. I know them littery chaps, and, beleave me, I'd rather be a footman. The work's not so hard — the pay is better : the vittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to clean my things, and run my errints, and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir I Mr. Bullwig ! an't I right? shall I quit 7ny station and sink — that is to say, rise — to yours ? " Bullwig was violently affected ; a tear stood in his glisten- ing i. " Yellowplush," says he, seizing my hand, " you an' right. Quit not your present occupation ; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all your life, but don't turn literary man. Look at me. I am the first novelist. I have ranged with eagle wing over the wide regions of literature, and perched on every eminence in its turn. I have gazed with eagle eyes on the sun MR. VELLOtVPLVSH'S A JEW, ^57 of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depths of the human mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts are known to me, all men understood by me. I have gathered wisdom from the honeyed lips of Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of Acadames — wisdom, too, from the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked our 'backy in Seven Dials. Such must be the studies, and such is the mission, in this world, of the Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge is only emptiness ; the imitation is but misery ; the initiated, a man shunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh," said Bullwig, clasping his hands, and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, " the curse of Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue them from genewation to genewation ! Wo to genius, the heaven-sealer, the fire-stealer ! Wo and thrice bitter desola- tion ! Earth is the wock on which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim — men, the vultures that feed and fatten on him. Ai, Ai ! it is agony eternal — gwoaning and solitawy despair ! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these myste- wies : you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twenien- dous Pwesence. Beware ; as you value your peace, beware ; Withdwaw, wash Neophyte ! For heaven's sake — O for heaven's sake ! — " here he looked round with agony — "give me a glass of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is beginning to disagwee with me." Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own sattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then swigged off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a solium sigh as he took the last gulph ; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, in order to show his independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn present, in the following manner : " Hark ye," says he, " my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the nonsinse of that divil of a Bullwig. He's jilious of ye, my bhoy : that's the rale, undoubted thruth ; and it's only to keep you out of litherar}^ life that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you what — Plush ye blackguard, — my honorable friend the mimber there has told me a hunder times by the smallest computation, of his intense admiration of your talents, and the wonderful sthir they were making in the world. He can't bear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatable- ness. Look at him. Plush, and look at me. My father was not a juke exactly, nor aven a markis, and see, nevertheliss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no ixpinse ; I'm the iditor of a cople of pariodicals ; I dthrive about in me carridge ; I 5o8 THE MEMOIRS OP MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUStl. dine wid the lords of the land ; and why — in the name of the piper that pleed before Mosus, hwy ? Because I'm a litherary man. Because I know how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther Larner, in fact, and mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remained all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as that offered you by Sir Jan ; but I came to London — to London, my boy, and now see ! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He is a gentle- man, to be sure, and bad luck to 'im, say I ; and what has been the result of his litherary labor ? I'll tell you what ; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the shade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him a barinet." ■ " A Barnet, Doctor ! " says I ; " you don't mean to say they're going to make him a barnet ! " "As sure as I've made meself a docthor," says Larner. " What, a baronet, like Sir John > " "The divle a bit else." " And pray what for ?" "What law?" says Bullwig. " Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw ? Ask Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat Bwitish nation, what faw ? The blood in my veins comes puwified thwough ten thousand years of chival- wous ancestwy ; but that is neither here nor there : my political principles — the equal wights which I have advocated — the gweat cause of fweedom that I have celebwated, are known to all. But this, I confess, has nothing to do with the question. No, the question is this — on the thwone of liteweture I stand unwivalled, pwe-eminent ; and the Bwitish government, hon- owing genius in me, compliments the Bwitish nation by lifting into the bosom of the heweditawy nobility the most gifted member of the democwacy." (The honrabble genlm here sunk down amidst repeated cheers.) " Sir John," says I, " and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint frend Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has just sate down, have made me change the detummin- ation which I had the honor of igspressing just now. " I igsept the eighty pound a year ; knowing that I shall have plenty of time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set on that same bentch of barranites, which is deckarated by the presnts of my honrabble friend. " Why shooden I ? It's trew I ain't done anythink as yet to deserve such an honor ; and it's very probable that I never shall. But what then ? — quaw dong, as our friends say ? I'd much rayther have a coat-of-arms than a coat of livry. I'd MR. YELLOWPLUSH':S A JEW. ^09 much rayther have my bkid-red hand spralink in the middle of a shield, than underneath a tea-tray. A barranit I will be j and, in consiquints, must cease to be a footmin. "As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled : they are, I know, necessary : but they ain't necessary until askt for ; besides, I reglar read the Satiarist newspaper, and so ignirince on this pint would be inigscusable. " But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit, and another a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and another the wife of a governor of the Cape o/. Good Hope, I begin to perseave that the littery trade ain't such a very bad un ; igspecially if you're up to snough, and know what's o'clock. I'll learn to make myself usefle, in the fust place; then I'll larn to spell; and, I trust, by reading the novvles of the honrabble member, and the scientafick treatiseses of the reverend doctor, I may find the secrit of suxess, and git a litell for my own share. I've sevral f rends in the press, having paid for many of those chaps' drink, and given them other treets ; and so I think I've got all the emilents of suxess ; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, to igsept your kind offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yous of when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however — " "I wish you'd withdraw yourself," said Sir John, bursting into a most igstrorinary rage, " and not interrupt the company with your infernal talk ! Go down, and get us coffee : and, heark ye ! hold your impertinent tongue, or I'll break every bone in your body. You shall have the place, as I said ; and while you're in my service, you shall be my servant ; but you don't stay in my service after to-morrow. Go down stairs, sir ; and don't stand staring here ! " ******* In this abrupt way, my evening ended : it's with a melan- choly regret that I think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am an altered, a wiser, and, I trust, a better man, I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in the style of my friend Bullwig ; and preparing for publiga- tion, in the Doctor's Cyclopedear, " The Lives of Eminent Brittish and Foring Wosherwomen." eio THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWFLUSff. •J SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DIARY OF GEORGE IV." CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ., TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ * = Dear Why, — Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me (who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshire for six weeks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old English hospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our sports in the coun- try, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four posterses could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the two vollumes of a new book ; witch, as I have been away from the literary world, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying neglected in my pantry, among my knife-cloaths, and dekanters, and blacking-bottles, and bedroom candles, and things. This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work, I see sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, and have given their apinions concerning it ; specially the Qiiot/y Revew, which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of the Ti??ies of George /F.f That it's a woman that wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femail wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy- maid may be, I, in coarse, can't conjecter : and, indeed, com- mon galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only judge of the book itself ; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching upon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz., fashnabble life, as igsibited in the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. But I bare no mallis — infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matter where the infamy comes from ; and whether the Dairy be from that distinguished pen to witch it is ornarily attributed — whether, I say, it comes from a lady of honor to * These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it may be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that " Oliver Yorke " is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical. ,, . ^ ^ j -^r o ■ ■ I t Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed with Ortgmal Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from various other distinguished Persotis. " Tot ou tard, tout se s?ait."— Maintenon. In z vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn. SKIMMINGS FROM THE "DIARY OF GEORGE IV." 511 the late quean, or a scullion to that diffunct majisty, no matter : all we ask is nollidge ; never mind how we have it. NoUidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit — it's always good, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonal intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my private memoars — though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, by cuttin short the tail of my narratif^- though much that I had to say in souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my oiytory, the benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus abruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor writing English ; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I am pufifickly prepaired to say, to gainsay which no man can say a word — yet I say, that I say I consider this publication welkom. Far from viewing it with enfy, I greet it with applaws ; because it increases that most exlent spe- cious of nollidge, I mean " Fashnabble Nollidge : " com- payred to witch all other nollidge is nonsince — a bag of goold to a pare of snuffers. Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say what he had tu say better ? We are marters, both of us, to prinsple ; and every body who knows eather knows that we would sacrafice anythink rather than that. Fashion is the goddiss I adoar. This delightful work is an offring on her srine ; and as sich all her wushippers are bound to hail it. Here is not a question of trumpry lords and honrabbles, generals and barronites, but the crown itself, and the king and queen's actions ; witch may be considered as the crown jewels. Here's princes, and grand-dukes and airsparent, and heaven knows what ; all with blood-royal in their veins, and their names mentioned in the very fust page of the peeridge. In this book you become so intmate with the Prince of Wales, that you may follow him, if you please, to his marridge-bed ; or, if you prefer the Princiss Charlotte, you may have with her an hour's tator-tator.* Now, though most -of the remarkable extrax from this book have been given already (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say), I shall trouble you, nevertheless, with a few ; partly because they can't be repeated too often, and because the toan of obsyvation with which they have been genrally received by the press is not igsackly such as I think they merit. How in^ * Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tite-h-tite. — O. Y« 512 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. deed, can these common magaseen and newspaper pipple kno\» anything of fashnabble life, let alone ryal ? Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has done reel good on this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look through it, for the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, and which I think may be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick. For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that this is no common catchpny book, like that of most authors and authoresses who write for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless you ! the Dairy-maid is above anything musnary. She is a woman of rank, and no mistake ; and is as much above doin a common or vulgar action as I am superaor to taking beer after dinner with my cheese. She proves that most satisfackarily, as we see in the following passidge : — " Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phrases on different %\\xy jects, produced all the papers she wishes to have published : her whole correspondence with the prince relative to Lady J 's dismissal; hissubsequent neglect of the princess ; and, finally, the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland^ &c., at the time of the secret inquiry : when, if proof could have been brought against her, it certainly would have been done ; and which acquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to the justice of the nation in general, was not made public at the time. A common criminal is publicly condemned or acquitted. Her royal highness commanded me to have these letters published forthwith, saying, ' You may sell them for a great sum.' At first (for she had spoken to me before concerning this business), I thought of availing myself of the oppor* tunity ; but upon second thoughts, I turned from this idea with detestation : for, if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavoring to serve her, I will do so at least from good and disinterested motives, not from any sordid views. The princess commands me, and I ■will obey her, whatever may be the issue ; but not for fare or fee. I own I tremble, not so much for myself, as for the idea that she is not taking the best and most dignified way of having these papers published. Why make a secret of it at all ? If wrong, it should not he done ; if right it should he done openly, and in the face of her enemies. In her royal high- ness'scase, as in that of wronged princes in general, why do they shrink from straight- forward dealings, and rather have recourse to crooked policy? I wish, in this particular in- stance, I could make her royal highness feel thus : but she is naturally indignant at being falsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation." Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this ? The Dairy-lady is quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no favior ! " I won't do behind my back what I am ashamed of before my face : not I ! " No more she does ; for you see that, though she was offered this manyscripby the prin- cess for noth'mk, though she knew that she could actially get for it a large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble, grateful, fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and never will have recors to disguise orcrookid polacy. This ought to be an ansure to them Radicle snecrers, who pretend that they are the equals of fashnabble pepple ; whereas it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar roagues have no notion of honor. And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on hex SKIMMINGS FROM THE " DIAR\ OF GEORGE IVr 513 ladyship (long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!) • — after this posilif declaration, that, even for the porpus of dcfciidhig her missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a jDeculiarly consideration, it is actially asserted in the pub- lic prints by a booxeller, that he has given hercz thousand pound for the Dairy. A thousand pound! non since ! — it's a phig- ment ! a base lible ! This woman take a thousand pound, in a matter where her dear mistriss, friend, .and benyfactriss v,;:s concerned ! Never ! A thousand baggonits would be more prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion. But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of my expeamnces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionally vulgar, and not such as is generally used in those exquizzit famlies which I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in tliis book, wrote as all the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of kings and queens as if they were as common as sand-boys — there is in this book more wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dare io tJiink on., and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I was a boy at school. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his own : never mind spellin, I say, so long as the sence is right. Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this channing lady of honor ; and a very nice corryspondent he isj too, without any mistake: " Lady O — , poor Lad>' O 1 1 perfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars : or she hath Let Iier brother, \vho is a -sad s^vine, become master of her secrets, and then contri-ved to quarrel with him. You would see the outline of the }nelaitg_e in the newspapers.; but not the reoort that Mr S is about to publish a pampTilet, as an addition to the Harleian Tracts, setting forth «he amatory adventures of his sister. We shall break our necks in haste to buy it, of course crying ' Shameful ' all the while ; and it is said that Lady O is to be cut, which 1 can- not entirely believe. Let her tell two or three old women about town that they are your^, and handsome, and give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep tlie society which she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as they once were, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with anything like impunity. People were full as gallant irar.y years ago. IJut the days are gone by wherein my lord-protector of the cnnnnonwealth oi lingland was wont to go a love-making to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. " And so Miss Jacky 'Gordon is really clothed with a husband at 5ast, and Miss Laura liLmners left without a mate ! She and Lord .Stair should marry and have children, in meit revenge. As to "Miss Gorden, she''s a Venus well suited for such a Vulcan, — whom notliir.g Init money and a title coidd'kaA'e rendered tolerable, even to a kitclien wencli. It is said that the matrimonial correspondence between this couple is to be published, full cf sad scandaU us relations, of which you may be sure scarcely a word is true. In former times, the Duchc;,s of .St. A s made -use of these elegant ei>istles in order -to intimidate Lady Johnstoi^e-r- but that ruse would not avail ; so in spite, they are to be printed. What a cargo i i amiable creatures'! Yet will some people scarcely Iselieve in the existence •cf Panclc- anonium. " Tuesday Morning. — You are perfectly right respecting the hot rooms Irere, which w:' all cry out against, and all find very >;omfoitable — much jiiore so than the •cold sands r.v.C. ibleak neighborhood f>f the sea ; which looks vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon crimson damask, but hideous and shocking in reality. H and his '(/.V"' (talking of parties) were last niglit at (J!hnlmoiideley House, but seem not to ripen in iheii love. He is certainly good-humored, and I believe, good-hearted, so deserves a good wifj ,' liiit his cart, teeiHs a g-enuine LgikIou miss, made u)) of many affectatior.s. Will she foin; e 5 14 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. comfortable helpmate ? For me, I like not her origin, and deent many strange things ta run in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil. " Thursday. — I verily do believe that 1 shall never get to the end of this small sheet of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have I had ; and now I have been to Vauxhall, and caught the toothache. I was of Lady E. B m and H— ■ 's party: very dull— the Lady giving us all a sapper after our promenade— ' Much ado was there, God wot She would love, but he v/ould not- He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it ; and she 'Jaisoit hs yeux eople present there. He has such a squeamish appytite, that all the world seem to disagree with him. And what has he got to say to his dellicate female frend ? Why that — Fust. Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady O , his sister, which everybody's going to by. Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an usband ; and that all their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too. 3. That Lord H. is going to be married ; but there's some- thing rong in his wife's blood. 4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two Irish lords. Wooden you phancy, now, that the author of such a letter,, instead of writin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin Vinegar Yard ? Would you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin to was a chased, modist lady of honor, and mother of a family.'' O trn?npcry ! O 7norris ! as Homer says : this is a higeous pictur of manners, such as I weap to think of, as evrym,orl man; must weap. The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life : what follows is about families even higher situated than the most fashnabble. Here we have the princess-regient, her daughter the Princess Sharlot, her grandmamma the old quean. SKIMMINGS FROM THE ''DIARY OF GEORGE TV?' 515 and her madjisty's daughters the two princesses. If this is not high life, I don't know where it is to be found ; and it's pleasing to see what affeckshn and harmny rains in such an exolted spear. '^ Sunday ii,th. — Yesterday, the princess went to meet the Princess Charlotte at Ken- sington. Lady told me that, when the latter arrived, she rushed up to her mother, and said, ' For God's sake, be civil to her,' meannig the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. Lady said she felt sorry for the latter ; but when the Princess of Wales talked to her, she soon became so free and easy, that one could not have any feeling about her feelings. i-rincess Charlotte, I was told, was looking handsome, very pale, but her head moie becomingly dressed, — that is to say, less dressed than usual. Her figure is of that full round shape which is now in its prime ; but she disfigures herself by wearing her boddice so short, that she literally has no waist. Her feet are very pretty ; and so are her hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape of her head. Her countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions to play upon it ; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, express so many powerful and varied emotions. Lady told me that the Princess (Miarlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in a very quiet, but determined way, she would not bear it, and that as soon as parliament met, she intended to come to Warwick House, and remain there ; that she was also determined not to consider the Duchess of Leeds as \\^x governess but only as her frst lady. She made many observations on other persons and subjects ; and appears to be very quick, very penetrating, but imperious and wilful. There is a tone of romance, too, in her character, which will only serve to mislead her. " She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsor between the queen and the prince, the former refusing to give up Miss Knight from her own person to attend on Princess Charlotte as sub-governess. But the prince-regent had gone to Windsor him- self, and insisted on her doing so ; and the ' old Beguin ' was forced to submit, but has been ill ever since : and Sir Henry Halford declared it was a complete breaking up of her constitution — to the great delight of the two princesses, who were talking about this affair. Miss Knight was the very person they wished to have ; they think they can do as they like with her. It has been ordered that the Princess Charlotte should not see her mother alone for a single moment ; but the latter went into her room, stuffed a pair of large shoes full of papers, and having given them to her daughter, she went home. Lady told me everything was written down and sent to Mr. Brougham next day." See what discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies. Here are six of 'em — viz., the quean and her two daughters, her son, and his wife and daughter; and the manner in which they hate one another is a compleat puzzle. ( his mother. The Prince hates < his wife. ( his daughter. Princess Charlotte hates her father. Princess of Wales hates her husband. The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death ; and her two jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a happy, fashnabble, Christian famly ! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if this is the way in the drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live below, in pease and charatywith all men ; writin, as I am now, in my pantry, or els havin a quite game at cards in the servants- all. With us there's no bitter, wicked, quarling of this sort. We don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish 'em ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and 5i6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. queens do. When we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, wc don't fill our letters with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of our fellow-servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does. But, in coarse, it's not for us to judge of our betters ; — these great people are a supeerur race, and we can't comprehend their ways. Do you recklect — it's twenty years ago now — how a bewtififle princess died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole nation of Hengland wep, as though it was one man, over that sweet woman and child, in which were sentered the hopes of every one of us, and of which each was as proud as of his own wife or infnt ? Do you recklect how pore fellows spent their last shillin to buy a black crape for their hats, and clergymen cried in the pulpit, and the whole country through was no better than a great dismal funeral ? Do you recklect, Mr. Yorke, who was the person that we all took on so about ? We called her the Princis Sharlot of Wales ; and we valyoud a single drop of her blood more than the whole heartless body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as a kind of saint or angle, and blest God (such foolish loyal English pipple as we ware in those days) who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. But heaven bless you ! it was only souperstition. She was no better than she should be, as it turns out — or at least the Dairy-maid says so. No better ? — if my daughters or yours was \ so bad, we'd as leaf be dead ourselves, and they hanged. But listen to this pritty charritable story, and a truce to reflexshuns : — ''^Sunday, JauKary q, 1814. — Yesterday, according to appointment, I went to Princees Charlotte. Found at Warwick Hou^e the harp-player, Dizzi ; was asked to remain and listen to his performance, but was talked to during the whole time, wliich completely pre- vented all possibility of listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her daughter ■were in the room, but left it soon. Next arrived Miss Knight, who remained all the time I was there. Princess Charlotte was very gracious — showed me all her boiuiy dyes, as B would have called them — pictures, and cases, and jewels, &c. She talked in a very desul- tory way, and it would be difficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very low spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise ? This qucstioiiitig answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves two purposes — /. e. avoids comnntting one- self, or giving offence by silence. There was hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst others, that very much resembled the Duke of D . I asked Miss Knight whom it represented. She said that was not known ; it had been supposed a likeness if the Pre- tender, when young. This answer suited my thoughts so comically I could have laughed, if one ever did at courts anything but the contrary of what one was inclined to do. " Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in her countenance — a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen in connection with such soft and shadeless coloring. Her hands and arms are beautiful ; but I think her figure is already gone, and will soon be precisely like her mother's : in short it is the very picture of her, and not in iiiiitia- iure. I could ntit help analyzing my own sensations during the time I was with lier, and thought more of them than I did of her. Why was I at all flattered, at all more amused, at all more supple to this young princess, than to her who is only the same sort of person set in the shade of circumstances and of years? It is that youth, and the approach of power, and the latent views of self-interest, sway the heart and dazzle the understanding. If this is so with a heart not, I trust, corrupt, and a head not particularly formed for interested lalculations, what effect must not the same causes produce on the generality of mankind ? " In the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived to edge in a good SKIMMINGS FROM THE "DIARY OF GEORGE IVr sn deal of inm-de-dy, and would, if I had entered into the thhig, have gone on with it, while looking at a little picture of herself wliich had about thirty or forty different dresses to put over it, done on isinglass, and which allowed the general cohering of the picture to be seen through its transparency. It was, I thought, a pretty enough conceit, though rather like dressing up a doll. ' All ! ' said Miss Knight. ' I am not content though, madanie — for I yet should have liked one more dress — that of the favorite Sultana.' " ' No, no ! ' said tlie princess, ' I never was a favorite, and never can be one,' — looking at a jiicture wliich she said was her fatlier's, but wliich I do not believe was done for the regent any more than for me, but represented a young man in a huzzar's dress — probably a former favorite. "Tlie Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that was taken of her birth- day. After keeping nie for two hours and a half she dismissed me ; and I am sure I could not say wh.at she said, except that it was an olio of decotisus and heterogenous things,^ par- taking of the characteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger scion. I dined tete-a-teti with my dear old aunt : hers is always a sweet and soothing society to me." There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you ! An innocent young thing of fifteen has pictures of two lovers in her room, and expex a good number more. This delligate young creature edges in a good deal of tumdedy (I can't find it in John- son's Dixonary), and wpuld have gone on with the thing (elly- gence of languidge), if the dairy-lady would have let her. Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't beleave a single syllible of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust place, that the princess would have talked a good deal of tiwidedy : which means, I suppose, indeasnsy, if she, the lady of honner would have let her. This is a good one ! Why, she lets everybody else talk tumdedy to their hearts' content ; she lets her friends write tumdedy, and, after keeping it for a quar- ter of a sentry; %\\q prints it. Why then, be so squeamish about hearing -s^ little! And, then, there's the stoary of the two por- tricks. This woman has the honner to be received in the frendlyest manner by a British princess ; and what does the grateful loyal creature do ? 2 picturs of the princess's relations are hanging in her room, and the Dairy-woman swears away the poor young princess's carrickter, by swearing they are picturs of her lovers. For shame, oh, for shame ! you slanderin back- bitin dairy-woman you ! If you told all them things to your "dear old aunt," on going to dine with her, you must have had very " sweet and soothing society " indeed, I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write about ; but I think I have said enough about this Dairy : in fack, the butler, and the gals in the servants' hall are not well pleased that I should go on reading this naughty book ; so we'll have no more of it, only one passidge about PoUytics, witch is sertnly quite new : — '' No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the Crown Prince, from the intimate knowledge lie possessed of his character. Bernadotte was also instigated against Bonaparte by one who not only owed liim a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind equal to his, and who gave the Crown Prince both iaforrnation and advice how toact. Tliis w.is 1. ' less a person than Madam d; Stael. It was not, as some have asserted, //iii^ slu 5i8 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. •was in love ivith Beniadotle ; for at tha time of their intimacy, Madame de Sidcl 7vas in love ivith Rocca. Hut she used her influence (whicli was not small) with the Crown Prince, to make him fight against Bonaparte, and to her wisdom may be attributed much of the success which accompanied his attack upon him. Bernadotte has raised the flame of lib- erty, which seems fortunately to blaze all around. May it liberate Europe ; and from the ashes of the laurel may olive branches spring up, and overshadow the earth! " " There's a discuvery ! that the overthrow of Boneypart is owing to Madame de St del ! What nonsince for Colonel Southey or Doctor Napier to write liistories of the war witli that Capsican hupstart and murderer, when here we have tlic whole affair explained by the lady of honor ! " .Sunday, Afril lo, 1814. — The incidents which take place cverj; hour are miraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive ; subdued, but allowed to choose his place of residence. The island of Elba is the spot he has selected for his ignominious retreat. France is hold- ing forth repentant arins to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. to the scaffold are presenting flowers to the Emperor of Russia, the restorer of their legitimate king! What a stupendous field for philosophy to expatiate in I What an end- less material for thought ! What humiliation to the pride of mere human greatness ! How are the mighty fallen! Of all that was great in Napoleon, what remains? Despoiled of his usurped power, he sinks into insignificance. There was no moral greatness in the man. The meteor dazzled, scorched, is put out, — utterly, and for ever. But the power which rests in those who have delivered the nations from bondage is a power that is delegated to them from heaven ; and the manner in which they have used it is a guarantee for its con- tinuance. The Duke of Wellington has gained laurels unstained by any useless flow of blood. He has done more than conquer others — he has conquered himself : and in the midst of the biaze and flush of victory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not been be- trayed into the commission of any act cf cruelty or wanton offence. He was as cool and self- possessed under the blaze and dazzle of fame as a common man would be under the shade of his garden-tree, or by the hearth of his home. But the tyrant who kept Europe in awe is now a pitiable object for scorn to point the finger of derision at: and humanity thudders as it remembers the scourge with which this man's ambition was permitted to devastate every home tie, and every heartfelt joy." And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflec- tions and pious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall only quot one little extrak more : — " All got,., gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell told me she regrets not seeing all these cuiious personages ; but she says, the more the princess is foresaken, the more happy she is at having offered to attend her at this time. This is very amiable in her, and cannot fail to be gratifying to the princess." So it is — very amiable, very kind and considerate in her, indeed. Poor Princess ! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you for your own sake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its back kep steady to you. As for believing that Lady Sharlot had any hand in this book,* heaven forbid ! she is all gratitude, pure gratitude, depend upon it. S/ie would not go for to blacken her old frend and patron's carrickter after having been so outrageously faithful to her ; s/ie wouldn't do it, at no price, depend upon it. How sorry she must be that others an't quite so squemish, and show up in this indesentway the follies of her kind, genrus, foolish bennyfactris ! * The " authorized " anrounccmcnt, in the yahn /??/?// newspaper, sets this question nt: rest. It i;; declared that her ladyship is not the writer <.f the D.iiry. — O. Y. EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 519 EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. JOHN THOMAS SMITH, ESQ., TO C S Y H, ESQ. NOTUS. The suckmtansies of the following harticle are as folios : — ■ Me and my friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each other in the Haymarket Theatre, during the performints of the new play. I was settn in the gallery, and sung out to him (he was in the pit), to jine us after the play, over a glass of bear and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, the family being out. Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of the comady ; and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a letter to the other, giving our notiums of the pease. Paper was brought that momint ; and Smith writing his harticle across the knife-bord, I dasht off mine on the dresser. Our agreement was, that I (being remarkable for my style of riting) should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up with the plot of the play ; and the candied reader will pard- ing me for having holtered the original address of my letter, and directed it to Sir Edward himself ; and for having incop- perated Smith's remarks in the midst of my own : — May/air, Nov, 30, 1835. Mlduite. HoNRABRLE Barnet ! — Retired from the littery world a year or moar, I didn't think anythink would injuce me to come forrards again ; for I was content with my share of reputation, and propoas'd to add nothink to those immortial wux which have rendered this Magaseen so sallybrated. Shall I tell you the reazn of my reapjDcarants ? — a desire for the benefick of my fellow-creatures ? Fiddlestick ! A mighty truth with which my busm labored, and which I must bring forth or die ? Nonsince — stuff : money's the secret, my dear Barnet, — money — Vargong, gelt, spiainia. Here's quarter- day coming, and I'm blest if I can pay my landlud, unless I can ad hartificially to my inkum. This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to blacard the streets with it, or to tell the British public that 520 '^^E MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSB. Fitzroy Y-11-wpl-sh is short of money, or that the sallybratecj hauthor of the Y Papers is in peskewniary difficklties, ol is fiteagued by his superhuman litter" ^abors, or by his famly sucknistansies, or by any other pusnal matter : my maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be as quiet as posbile. What the juice does the public care for you or me ? Why must we always, in prefizzes and what not, be a-talking about ourselves and our :gstrodnary merrats, woas, and injaries ? It is on this subjick that I porpies, my dear Barnet, to speak to you in a frendly way ; and praps you'll find my advise tolrabbly holesum. Well, then, — if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil, of us poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like you, Barnet. I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entry noic, that last stoary I roat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir as ever was) — I've had my fling at you ; but I like you. One may objeck to an immence deal of your writ- ings, which, betwigst you and me, contain more sham scenti- ment, sham morallaty, sham poatry, than you'd like to own : but, in spite of this, there's the stuff in you : you've a kind and loyal heart in you, Barnet — a trifle deboshed, perhaps ; a kean i, igspecially for what's comic (as for your tradgady, it's mighty flatchulent), and a ready plesnt pen. The man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don't believe him, Barnet ! not that I suppose you wil,— for, if I've formed a correck apinion of you from your v/ucks, you think your small-beear as good as most men's : every man does, — and why not "i We brew, and v^'e love our own tap — amen ; but the pint betwigst us, is this stewpid, absudd way of crying out, because the public don't like it too. Why shood they, my dear Barnet ? You may vow that they are fools ; or that the critix are your enemies ; or that the wuld should judge your poams by your critticle rules, and not their own : you may beat your breast, and vow you are a niarter, and you won't mend the matter. Take heart, man ! you're not so misrabble after all : your spirits need not be so "':}'y cast down ; you are not so very badly paid. I'd lay a \vager that you make, with one thing or another — plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and there — your three tnowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig, that works for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you ? Three r.iowsnd a year is no such bad thing, — let alone the barnetcy : it must be a great comfort to have that bloody hand in your skitching. But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and fond of a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints, EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 521 —this ceaseless groning, and moning, and wining of yours, is io-sackly the thing which makes people laff and snear more ? If you were ever at a great school, you must recklect who was the boy most buUid, and buffitid, and purshewd — he who minded it most. He who could take a basting got but few ; he who rord and wep because the knotty boys called him nicknames, was nicknamed wuss and wuss. I recklet there was at our school, in Sroithfield, a chap of this milksop, spoony sort, who appeared among the romping, ragged fellers in a fine flanning dressing-gownd, that his mama had given him. That pore boy was beaten in a way that his dear ma and aunts didn't know him ; his tine flanning dressing-gownd was torn all to ribbings, and he got no pease in the school ever after, but was abliged to be taken to some other saminary, where, I make no doubt, he was paid off igsactly in the same way. Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet .? Mutayto nominy — you know what I mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy is the dressing-gownd. You dress yourself out finer than other chaps and they all begin to sault and hustle you ; it's human nature, Barnet. You show weakness, think of your dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry : it's all over with you ; the whole school is at you — upper boys and under, big and little ; the dirtiest little fag in the place will pipe out blaggerd names at you, and take his pewny tug at your tail. The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of stowt shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggy- muffins. A good bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, " Wha dares meddle wi' me ? " When Scott got his barnetcy, for instans, did any one of us cry out ? No, by the laws, he was our master ; and wo betide the chap that said neigh to him ! But there's barnets and barnets. Do you recklect that fine chapter in " Squintin Durward," about the too fellos and cups, at the siege of the bishop's castle ? One of them was a brave warrier, and kep his cup ; they strangled the other chap — • strangled him, and laffed at him too. With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice : brazen it out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of schoolboys — childish, greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always ready to fight. What must be a man's conduck among such ? He must either take no notis, and pass on my- jastick, or else turn round and pummle soundly — one, two, right and left, ding dong over the face and eyes ; above all, never acknowledge that he is hurt. Years ago, for instans {we've no ill-blood, but only mention this by way of igsample), 522 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSH. you began a sparring with this Magaseen. Law bless you, such a ridickhis gaym I never see : a man so belaybord, beflustered, bewoIlojDed, was never known ; it was tlie laft of the whole town. Your intelackshsl natur, respected Earnet, is not fiz- zickly adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You must not indulge in combats with us course bullies of the press : you have not the staviiny for a reglar set-to. What, then, is your plan ? In the midst of the mob to pass as quiet as you can : you won't be undistubbed. Who is ? Some stray kix and buffits will fall to you — mortial man is subjick to such ; but if you begin to wins and cry out, and set up for a marter, wo betide you ! These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure )^ou, written in perfick good-natur, and have been inspired by your play of the " Sea Capting," and prelrz to it ; which latter is on matters intirely pusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this kind of ad hominajn (as they say) diskcushion. I propose, honrabble Barnit, to comsider calmly this play and prephiz, and to speak of both with that honisty which, in the pantry or studdy, I've been always phamous for. Let us, in the first place, listen to the opening of the ** Preface of the Fourth Edition : " " No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults and deficiencies to be found in this play : but, perhaps, when it is considered how very rarely it has happened in the his- tory of our drairiatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, except by those who have either been actors themselves, or formed their habits of literature, almost of life, behind tlie scenes, I might have looked for a criticism more generous, and less exacting and rigorous, than that by which the attempts of an author accustomed to another class of com- position have been received by a large proportion of the periodical press. " It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain faults of two kinds: first, tile faults of one who has necessarily much to learn in the mechanism of his art : and, secondly, of one who. having written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not un- frequently mistake the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add to these, perliapr, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health and broken spirits, which render the author more susceptible than he might have been some years since to that spirit of de- preciation and hostility which it has been his misfortune to excite amongst the general con- tributors to the i^eriodical press ; for the consciousness that every endeavor will be made to cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in fine, if possible, to rti7i down, will occasionally haunt even the hours of composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. " Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope that I may ultimately do better, should I continue to write for tlie stage (with nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I may yet bring some little aid to the drama, at a time when my aid, h.ow- ever humble, ought to be welcome to the lovers of the art, could induce me to do), may Ibe permitted to say'a few words as to some of the objections v.'hichhave been made against this play?" Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put forrards here, why your play shouldn't be good. First. Good plays are almost always written by actors Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. Third. You may be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade, and not a play-writer. EPISTLES TO THE LITER A TI. 523 Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. For shame, for shame, man ! What confeshns is these, — ■ what painful pewling and piping ! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven or eight and thutty years old — "in the morning of youth," as the flosofer says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What you, an old hand amongst us, — an old soljer of our sovring quean the press, — ■ you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay, and deserved \.\-\Q.\\\ too ! — 1 gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, " I am a man of genius : YlU-wpl-sh says so "), — you to lose heart, and cry pickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys Hing stones at you ! Fie, man ! take courage; and, bear- "ng the terrows of youi blood-red hand, as the poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you : punish us like a man, or bear your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such misrabble lodgic as that above. What do you ? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (the secknd is naught, — for your no such chicking at play-writing, this being the forth). You show that the play must be bad, and then begin to deal with the critix for finding folt! Was there ever wuss generalship 1 The play is bad, — your right, — a wuss I never see or read. But why kneed you say so .'' If it was so very bad, why publish it ? Beeause you zuisk to serve the drama ! O fie ! don't lay that flattering function to your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believe that this " Sea Capting " can serve the drama ? Did you never intend that it should serve anything, or anybody else ? Of cors you did ! You wrote it for money, — money from the maniger, money from the bookseller, — for the same reason that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote far the very same reasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Away with this canting about great motifs ! Let us not be too prowd, my dear Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters or apostels. We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and not for righteousness' sake. Let's try and work honestly ; but don't let us be prayting pompisly about our " sacred calling." The taylor who makes your coats (and very well they are made too, with the best of velvit collars) — I say Stulze, or Nugee, might cry out that their motifs were but to assert the eturnle truth of tayloring, with just as much reazn ; and who would believe them ? 524 ^-^-^ MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. Well ; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come sefral pages of attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry have found with it. With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You defend all the characters i by i, and conclude your remarks as follows : — " I must be pardoned for tliis disquisition on my own designs. When every means is employed to misrepresent, it l^ecomes, perhaps, allowable to explain. And if I do not think that my faults as a dramatic author are to be found in the study and delineation of character, it is precisely because that is the point on which all my previous pursuits in literature and actual life would be most likelv to preserve me from the errors I o-.yn elsewhere, whether of misjudgment or inexperience. " I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and talent with which they have embodied the characters eu-trusted to them. The sweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit embellished the part of Violet, which, though only a sketch, is most necessary to the coloring and harmony of the play, were perhaps the more pleasing to the audience from the generosity, rare with actors, which induced her to take a pan so far inferior to her powers. The applause which attends the performance of Mrs. Warner and Mr. Strickland attests their success in characters of unusual difficulty ; while the singular beauty and noble- ness, whether of conception or execution, with which the greatest of living actors has elevated the part of Norman (so totally different from this ordinary range of character), is a new proof of his versatility and accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be scarcely gracious to conclude these remarks without expressing my acknowledgment of that generous and indulgent sense of justice which, forgetting all political difference in a literary arena, has enabled me to appeal to approving audiences — from hostile critics. And it is this which alone encourages me to hope that, sooner or later, I may add to the dramatic litera- ture of my country something that may find, perhaps, almost as many friends in the next age as it has been the fate of the author to find enemies in this." See, now, what a good comfrabble vanaty is ! Pepple have quarld with the dramatic characters of your play. " No," says you j " if I am remarkabble for anythink, it's for my study and delineation of character ; that is presizely the pint to which my littery purshuits have led me." Have you read " Jil Blaw," my dear sir ? Have you pirouzed that exlent tragady, the " Critic ? " There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and the Archbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't laff till my sides ake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which you are famus ! — the roags ! And spose they had said the plot was absudd, or the langwitch absudder still, don't you think you would have had a word in defens of them too — you who hope to find f rends for your dramatic wux in the nex age ? Poo ! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will be wiser and better than this ; and do you think that it will imply itself a reading of your trajadies ? This is misantrofy, Barnet — reglar Byronism ; and you ot to have a better apinian of human natur. Your apinion about the actors I sha'n't here meddle with. They all acted exlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your write in giving them all possible prays. But let's consider the last sentence of the prefiz, my dear Barnet, and see v/hat a pretty set of apiniuns you lay down. EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. ^21^ 1. The critix are your inymies in this age. 2. In tlie nex, however, you hope to find newmrous f rends. 3. And it's a satisfackshn to think that, in spite of politticle dilTrances, you have found frendly aujences here. Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with what my friend Father Prout calls an argamantum ad mise- ricof'Javi, who ignowledges that his play is bad, that his pore dear helth is bad, and those cussid critix have played the juice with him — I say, for a man who beginns in such a humbill toan, it's rayther rich to see how you end. My dear Barnet, do you suppose \\\-^t politticle diffranccs pre- judice pepple against you 2 What are your politix ? Wig, I presume — so are mine, ojitry noo. And what if they are Wig, or Raddiccle, or Cumsuvvative ? Does any mortial man in England care a phig for your politix ? Do you think yourself such a mity man in parlymint, that critix are to be angry with you, and aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because they treat you fairly ? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat the "Rifles " and " School for Scandle " (I saw the " Rifles " after your play, and, O Barnet, if you knew what a relief it was !) — there, I say, was Sherridn — he was a politticle character, if you please — he could make a spitch or two — do you spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third himself, wooden go to see the " Rivles " — ay, and clap hands too, and laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery ? Do you spose the critix wouldn't applaud too .'' For shame, Barnet ! what ninnis, what hartless raskles, you must beleave them to be, — in the fust plase, to fancy that you are a politticle genus ; in the secknd, to let your politix interfear with their notiums about littery merits ! " Put that nonsince out of your head," as Fox said to Bony- part. Wasn't it that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's time, who fansid that the French king wooden make pease unless Dennis was delivered up to him ? Upon my wud, I doan't think he carrid his diddlusion much further than a serting honrabble barnet of my aquentance. And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another diddlusion \ a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y — sh. These plays immortial ! Ah, parrysa^npe, as the French say, this is too strong — the small-beer of the " Sea Capting," or of any suxessor of the " Sea Capting," to keep sweet for sentries and sentries ! Barnet, Barnet ! do you knov/ the natur of bear ? Six weeks is not past, and here your last casque is sour — the public won't even now drink it ; and I lay 34 526 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. a wager that, betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and the end of the year, the barl will be off the stox altogether, never, never to return. I've notted down a few frazes here and th^re, which you will do well do igsamin : — NORMAN. " The eternal Flora Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind ; While circling round and upwards from the boughs, Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, Melodv, like a happy soul released, Hangs' in the air, and from invisible plumes Shakes sweetness down ! " NORMAN " And these the lips Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss Of parting linger'd, as tlie fragrance left By angels when they touch the earth and vanish." NORMAN. " Hark ! she has blessed her son ! I bid ye witness, Ye listening heavens— thou circumambient air : The ocean sighs it back— and with the murmur Rustle the hap])y leaves. All nature breathes Aloud— aloft— to the Great Parent's ear The blessing of the mother on her child." NOKMAN. " I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart Mingled with mine— a deathless heritage, Which I can take unsullied to the stars. When the Great Father calls his children home. " The blue air, breathless in the starry peace, After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled With happy thoughts as heaven with a}tgels.'" '' Till one calm night, when over earth and wave Heaven looked its love from all its numberless slctrsP NORMAN. " Those eyes, the guiding stars by which I steered." NORMAN. " That great mother (The only parent I have known), whose face Is bright with gazing ever on the stars — The mother-sea." NORMAN. " My bark shall be ot:r hoaMl| The stars that light the angel palaces Of air, our lamps." NORMAN. •♦ A name that glitters, like a star, amidst The galaxy of England's loftiest boni." EPISTLES TO THE LITER A TL 527 LADY ARUNDEL. "And see him princeliest of the lion tribe, Whose swords and Coronals gleam around the throne, The guardian stars of the imperial isle." The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the papers, as real, reglar poatry. Those wickid critix ! they must have been lafifing m their sleafs when they quoted it. Malody, r.uckling round and uppards from the bows, like a happy soul released, hangs in the air, and from invizable plumes shakes sweetness down. Mighty fine, truly ! but let mortial man tell the meanink of the passidge. Is it 7nnsickle sweetniss that Malody shakes down from its plumes — its wings, that is, or tail — or some pekewliar scent that proceeds from happy souls released, and which they shake down from the trees when they are suckling round and uppards ? Is this poatry, Barnet ? Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly : Is it poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, and won't bear the commanest test of comman sence ? In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though in a more comprehensable way : the air, the leaves, the otion, are fild with emocean at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore Nature is dragged in to partisapate in his joys, just as she has been befor. Once in a poem, this universle simfithy is very well ; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet : and that once should be in some great suckmstans, surely, — such as the meeting of Adam and Eve, in " Paradice Lost," or Jewpeter and Jewno, in Hoamer, where there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. But sea-captings should not be eternly spowting and invoking gods, hevns, starrs, angels, and other silestial influences. We can all do it, Barnet ; nothing in life is easier. I can compare my livry buttons to the stars, or the clouds of my backopipe to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna ; or I can say that angels are looking down from them, and the tobacco sill, like a happy sole released, is circling round and upwards, and shaking sweetness down. All this is as esy as drink ; but it's not poatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers reckonize them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, and paws to think of the happy leaves a-rustling — at least, one mis- trusts them if they do. Take another instans out of your own play. Capting Norman Cwith his eternll slack-jaw !) meets the gal of his art : — " Look up, look up, my Violet— weeping? fie ! And trembling too — yet leaning on my breast. In truth, thou art too soft for sucli rude shelter. 528 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSE. Look up ! I come to woo thee to the seas, My sailor's bride ! Hast thou no voice but blushes? Nay — From those roses let me, like the bee, Drag forth the secret sweetness! " VIOLET. " Oh what thoughts Were kept for speech when we once more should meet. Now blotted from \.\\e. page ; and all 1 feel Is — tkoii art with me i " Very right, Miss Violet — tlie scentiment is natral, affeck' shnit, pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge, and no harm done) ; but never mind, the feeling is pritty ; and I can fancy, my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weejDing lass, looking up in a man's face and saying it. But the capting ! — oh, this capting ! — this windy, spouting captain, with his prittinesses, and conseated apollogies for the hardness of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies, and his wishes to be a bee ! Pish ! Men don't make love in this finniking way. It's the part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a gal- liant gentleman, in command of one of her Madjisty's vessels of war. Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknol- lidge that Captain Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with his endless jabber about stars and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist of Lady Arundel's spitch, too, who, in the corse of three lines, has made her son a prince, a lion, with a sword and coronal, and a star. Why jumble and sheak up metafors in this way ? Barnet, one simily is quite enuff in the best of sentenses (and I preshume I kneedn't tell you that it's as well to have it like, when you are about it). Take my advise, honrabble sir — listen to a humble footmin : it's genrally best in poatry to understand puffickly what you mean yourself, and to ingspress your meaning clearly afterwoods — in the simpler words the better, praps. You may, for instans, call a coronet a coronal if you like, as you might call a hat a " swart sombrero," "a glossy four-and-nine," "a silken helm, to storm impermeable, and lightsome as the breezy gossamer ; " but, in the long run, it as well to call it a hat. It is a hat : and that name is quite as poetticle as another. I think it's Playto, or els Harrystottle, who observes that what we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Confess, now, dear Barnet, don't you long to call it a Polyanthus ? I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry you seem to have bean, that you have actially in some sentences forgot to put in the sence. What is this, for instance ? — EPISTLES TO THE LITER A TI. " This thrice precious one Smiled to my eyes — drew being from niy breast- Slept in my arms ; — the very tears I shed .■'bove my treasures were to men and angels A ke such holy sweetness ! " In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked — • Raphael, Gabriel, U'-iel, Zadkiel, Azrael — what does this " holy sweetness " mean ? We're not spinxes to read such durk conan- drums. If you knew my state sins I came upon this passidg — I've neither slep nor eton ; I've neglected my pantry ; I've been wandring from house to house with this riddl in my hand, and nobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomy at one another, and asking what this may be. All the cumtributors have been spoak to. The Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried and giv'n up ; we've sent to Docter Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics a deal ezier than my way of spellin' — no anser. Quick ! quick with a fifth edi- tion, honored Barnet, and set us at rest ! While your about it, please, too, to igsplain the two last lines : — " His merry bark with England's flag to crown her." See what dellexy of igspreshn, " a flag to crown her ! " " His merry bark with England's flag to crown her. Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares." Likewise the following : — " Girl, beware, The love that trifles round the charms it gilds Oft ruins while it shines." Igsplane this, men and angels ! I've tried every way ; back* ards, forards, and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus : — Or, Or, Or, Or, The love that ruins round the charms it shines, Gilds while it trifles oft ; The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, Oft trifles while it shines ; The ruins that love gilds and shines around, Oft trifles where it charms ; Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, The trifles that it gilds ; The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, While round the charms it shines. All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. And with this I'll allow my friend Smith, who has been silent all this time, to sa}' a few words. He has not written near so much as me (being an infearor genus, betwigst our- 530 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOIVPLUSH. selves), but he says he never had such mortial difficklty with anything as with the dixcripshn of tlae plott of your pease. Here his letter : — To Ch-rl-s F-tzr-y Pl-nt-g-n-t Y-ll-wpl-sh, Esq., &:c., &:c. 30/Z! Nov., 1839. My dear and honored Sir, — I have the pleasure of lay- ing before you the following description of the plot, and a few remarks upon the style of the piece called " The Sea Captain." Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a daughter, heiress of his estates and property ; a poor cousin, Sir Maurice Beevor (being next in succession) ; and a page, Arthur Le Mesnil by name. The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young per- sons were married unknown to his lordship. Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that period favorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed to run away together, and had reached a chapel near on the sea-coast, from which they were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put a stop to their proceedings by causing one Gaussen, a pirate, to murder the page. His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three days gave birth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of this birth I cannot say ; the infant, however, was never ac- knowledged, but carried by Sir Maurice Beevor to a priest, Onslow by name, who educated the lad and kept him for twelve years in profound ignorance of his birth. The boy went by the name of Norman. Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a widow, but had a second son, who was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord Ashdale. Old Lord Arundel died, and her ladyship became countess in her own right. When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who wished to " laaft young Arthur to a distant land," had him sent on board ship. Who should the captain of the ship be but Gaussen, who received a smart bribe from Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the lad. Accordingly, Gaussen tied him to a plank, and pitched him overboard. About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan niece of Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass a few weeks with her ladyship. She had just come from a sea voyage, and had been saved from a wicked Algerine liy an Eng- lish sea captain. This sea captain w:"ls no other than Norman,, EP/STLES TO THE LITER ATT. 531 vv^io had been picked up off his plank, and fell in love witli, and was loved bv, Miss Violet. A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt s the captain came to pay her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady Arundel's residence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue Gaussen's ship anchored in the harbor too. Gaussen at once knew his man, for he had " tracked " him (after drowning him), and he informed Sir Maurice Beevor that young Norman was alive. Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should she get rid of him ? In this wise. He was in love with Violet, let him marry her and be off ; for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin too ; and, of course, could not marry a young woman in her station of life. " You have a chaplain on board," says her ladyship to Captain Norman ; " let him attend to-night in the ruined chapel, marry Violet, and away with you to sea." By this means she hoped to be quit of him for ever. But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor, and reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel and carry off Violet ; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel to kill both Ashdale and Norman : thus there would only be Lady Arundel between him aii^d the title. Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the chapel, had just seen his worthy old friend, the j^riest, most barbarously murdered there. Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon him ; his reverence was coming with the papers concerning Norman's birth, which Beevor wanted in order to extort money from the countess. Gaussen was, however, obliged to run before he got the papers ; and the clergyman had time, before he died, to tell Norman the story, and give him the documents, with which Norman sped off to the castle to have an interview with his mother. He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to be left alone with her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room, surlily quits it ; but, going out, cunningly puts on Nor- man's cloak. " It will be dark," says he, " down at the chapel ; Violet won't know me ; and, egad ! I'll run off with her! " Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges him, for she cannot help it ; but will not embrace him, love Inm, or have anything to do with him. Away he goes to the cha]5eL His chaplain was there wait- ing to marry him to Violet, his boat was there to carry him en board his ship, and Violet was there, too. " Norman," sa3's she, in the dark, " dear Norman, I knew 532 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOIVPLUSH. you by your white cloak ; here I am." And she and the maij in a cloak go off to the inner chai>el to be marriecL There waits Master Gaussen ; he has seized the chaplain^ and the boat's crew, and is just about to murder the man in the cloak, when — Nonnait rushes in and cuts him down, m.uch to the surprise of Miss, for she never susi^ected it was sly Ashdale who had come, as we have seen, disguised, and very nearly paid for his masqueradi-ng. Ashdale is very grateful ; but, when Norman persists in mar- rying Violet, he says — no, he sha'n't. He shall fight ; he is a, eaward if he doesn't fight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he moii't fight ; and — Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rush- ing in, says, "Hold! this is your brother, Percy — your elder brother! " Here is some restiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by embracing his brother. Norman burns all the papers ; vows he will never peach ; reconciles himself \vith his mother ; says he will go loser ; but,, having ordered Iiis ship to " veer " round to the chapel, orders it to veer back again, for he will pass the honeymoon at Arun- del Castle. « As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that there are one or two very good notions in this plot. But the author does not fail, as he would modestly have us believe,, from ignorance of stage-business ; he seems to know too much, rather than too little, about the stage ; to be too anxious to cram in effects, incidents, perplexities. There is the perplexity concerning Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and the priest's murder, and the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. There is the perplexity about the papers, and that about the hat and cloak (a silly, foolish obstacle), which only tantalize the spectator, and retard the march of the drama's action : it is as if the author had said, "I must have a new incident in every act, I must keep tickling the spectator perpetually, and never let him off until the fall of the curtain.'' The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of in- trigue you may remark in the author's drama of " Richelieu."' " The Lady of Lyons" was a much simpler and better wrought plot ; the incidents following each other either not too swiftly or:>tartlingly. In '' Richelieu," it always seemed to me as if one heard doors perpetually clapping and banging ; one was puzzled to follow the train of conversation, in the midst of the perpetual small noises that distracted one right and left- EPISTLES TO THE LITER A TI r^^j^T^ Nor is the list of characters of " The Sea Captain " to be despised. The ouUines of all of them are good. A mother, for whom one feels a proper tragic mixture of hatred ^nd pity ; a gallant single-hearted son, whom she disdains, and who con- quers her at last by his noble conduct ; a dasliing haughty Tybalt of a brother ; a wicked poor cousin, a pretty maid, and a fierce buccaneer. These peojDle might pass three hours very well on the stage, and interest the audience hugely ; but the author fails infilUng up the outlines. His language is absurdly stilted, frequently careless ; the reader or spectator hears a number of loud speeches, but scarce a dozen lines that seem to belong of nature to the speaker. Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the continual sham-religious clap-traps which the author has put into the mouth of his hero ; nothing m.ore unsailor-like than his namby-pamby starlit descriptions, which my ingenious colleague Jias, I see, alluded to. " Thy faith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven," cries the gallant captain to his lady. See how ]oosely the sentence is constructed, like a thousand others iu the book. The captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faith in her own eyes ; either image might pass by itself, but together, like the quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The captain tells his lieutenant to bid his harJz veer round to a point in the harbor. Was eve^r such language 1 My lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand pounds to waft him (her son) to some dis- tant shore. Nonsense, sheer nons;ense ; and what is worse, affected nonsense ! Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. '' There is a great deal of game on the estate — partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and plovers (smackiiig his lips) — besides a magnificent preserve of sparrows, -which I can sell to the Utile blackguards in the streets at a penny a hundred. But I am very poor — a very poor old knight ! " Is this wit or nature ? It is a kind of sham wit ; it reads as if it were wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the ■little blackguard boys ! what flimsy ecstasies and silly " smack- ing of lips " about the plovers. Is this the man who writes foi ihe next age ? O fie I Here is another joke : — " Sir flfauricc. Mice ! zoimds, how can I Keep mice ! I can't afford it ! They were stai-ved To death an age ago. The last was found Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone In that same larder, soconsnmed and wo"a By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it! I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, And set it in the porch — a solemn warning To thieves and beggars I " 534 '^^^ MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. Is not this rare wit ? "Zounds, how can I keep mice ? " is well enough for a miser ; not too new, or brilliant either ; but this miserable dilution of a thin joke, this wretched hunting down of the poor mouse ! It is humiliating to think of a man of esprit harping so long on such a mean, pitiful string. A man who aspires to immortality, too ! I doubt whether it is to be gained thus ; whether our author's words are not too loosely built to make " starry pointing pyramids of." Horace clipped and squared his blocks more carefully before he laid the monu- ment which vnbcr edax or aquila impotens, or fuga tanporum might assail in vain. Even old Ovid, when he raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had placed some columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two which deserved the immortality that he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself. But let not all be looking forward to a future, and fancying that, " inccrti spatiinn thimji7iiat avi,'" our books are to be immortal. Alas I the way to immortality is not so easy, nor will our " Sea Cap- tain " be permitted such an unconscionable cruise. If all the immortalities were really to have their wisli, what a work would our descendants have to study them all ! N&t yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved this deathless consummation. There will come a day (may it be long distant !) when the very best of his novels will be forgotten ; and it is reasonable to suppose that his dramas . will pass out of existence, some time or other, in the lapse of the s£cula scculonim. In the meantime, my dear Plush, if you ask me what the great obstacle is towards the dramatic fame and merit of our friend,. I would say that it does not lie so much in hostile critics or feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, and a peevish vanity which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. The question of original capacity I will not moot ; one may think very highly of the honorable baronet's talent, without rating it quite so high as he seems disposed to do. And to conclude : as he has chosen to combat the critics in person, the critics are surely justified in being allowed to address him directly. With best compliments to Mrs. Yellawplusli, I have the honor to be, dear Sir, Your most faithful and obliged humble servant, John Thomas Smith. And nowj Smith having finislit his letter, I think I can't do EPISTLE TO THE LITTER ATT. 53S better than clothes mine lickwise ; for though I should never be tired of talking, praps the public may of hearing, and therefore it's best to shut up shopjD. What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take unkind. A play, you see, is public property for every one to say his say on ; and I think, if you read your prefez over agin, you'll see that it ax as a direct incouridgment to us critix to come forrard and notice you. But don't fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiated by hostillaty ; fust write a good play, and you'll see we'll jorays it fast enuff. Waiting which, Agray, Miinseer k Chevaleer, ras/iurajice de ma hot cu?nsideratuti. • Voter distangy, Y. Yellowplush Papers. * FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS.* *'* FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS PREFACE. GKORGE FITZ-BOODLE, ESQUIRE, TG OLIVER YORKE, ESQUIRE. Omnium Club, May zo, 1842. Dear Sir, — I have always been considered the third-best whist-player in Europe, and (though never betting more than five pounds) have for many years past added considerably to my yearly income by my skill in the game, until the commencQ- ment of the present season, when a French gentleman. Mon- sieur Lalouette, was admitted to the club where I usually play. His skill and reputation were so great, that no men of the club were inclined to play against us two of a side ; and the con- sequence has been, that we have been in a manner pitted against one another. By a strange turn of luck (for I cannot admit the idea of his superiority), Fortune, since the French- man's arrival, has been almost constantly against me, and I have lost two-and-thirty nights in the course of a couple of score of nights' play. Everybody knows that I am a poor man ; and so much has Lalouette's luck drained my finances, that only last week I was obliged to give him that famous gray cob which you have seen me riding in the Park (I can't afford a thorough-bred, and *The " Fitz-lioodle Papers" first appeared in Eraser's Magazine for the year 1842. (537) 538 THE FJTZ-BOODLE PAPERS. hate a cocktail), — I was, I say, forced to give him Tip my cob " in excliange for four ponies which I owed him. Thus, as \ 7iever walli, being a heavy man whom nobody cares to mount, VlVj time hangs heavily on my hands ; and as I hate home, or that apology for it — a bachelor's lodgings — and as I have nothing earthly to do now until I can afford to purchase another horse, I spend my time in sauntering from one club to another, passing many rather listless hours in them before the men come in. You will say. Why not take to backgammon or ecarte', or amuse yourself with a book.? -Sir (putting out of the question the fact that I do not play upon credit), I make a point never to play before candles are lighted ; and as for books, I must candidly confess to you I am not a reading man. 'Twas but the other day that some one recommended me to read 3'our Magazine after dinner, saying it contained an exceedingly witty article upon — I forget what. I give you my honor, sir, that I took up the \vork at six, meaning to amuse myself till seven, when Lord Trumpington's dinner was to come off, and egad ! in two minutes I fell asleep, and never woke till midnight. Nobody ever thought of looking for me in the librar}'-, where nobody ever goes ; and so ravenously hungry was I, that I was obliged to walk off to Crockford's for supper. What is it that makes you literary persons so stupkl ? I have met various individuals in society who I was told were writers of books, and that sort of thing, and expecting rather to be amused by their conversation, have invariably found them dull to a degree, and as for information, without a particle of it. Sir, I actually asked one of these fellows, " W^hat was the nick to seven ? " and he stared in my face, and said he didn't know. He was hugely overdressed in satin, rings, chains and so forth ; and at the beginning of dinner was disposed to be rather talkative and pert ; but my little sally silenced hwi, I promise you, and got up a good laugh at his expense too. " Leave George alone," said little Lord Cinqbars, " I warrant he'll be a match for any of you literary fellows." Cinqbars is no great wiseacre ; but, indeed, it requires no great wiseacre to know tJiaf. What is the simple deduction to be drawn from this truth ? Why, this — that a man to be amusing and well-informed, has no need of books at all, and had much better go to the world and to men for his knowledge. There was Ulysses, now, the Greek fellow engaged in the Trojan war, as I dare say you know; well, lie was the cleverest man possil^le, and how? FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 53(j From having seen men and cities, their manners noted and their reahns sur\'eyed, to be sure. So have I. I have been in every capital, and can order a dinner in every language in Europe. ]\iy notion, then, is this. I have a great deal of spare tim.e on my hands, and as I am told you pay a handsome sum to persons writing for you, I will furnish you occasionally with some of my views upon men and things ; occasional histories of my acquaintance, which I think may amuse you ; personal nar- raiives of my own ; essays, and what not. I am told that I do not spell correctly. This, of course, I don't know ; but you will remember that Richelieu and Marlborough could not spell, and, egad ! I am an honest man, and desire to be no better than they. I know that it is the matter, and not the manner, which is of importance. Have the goodness, then, to let one of your understrappers correct the spelling and the grammar of my papers ; and you can give him a few shillings in my name foi" his trouble. Begging you to accept the assurance of my high consider- ation, I am, sir, Your obedient sen^ant, George Savage Fitz-Boodle. p,S.— By the way, I have said in my letter that I found all literary persons vulgar and dull. Permit me to contradict this with regard to yourself. I met you once at Blackwall, I think it was, and really did not remark anything offensive in your accent or appearance. Before commencing the series of moral disquisitions, &c., which I intend, the reader may as well know who I am, and what my past course of life has been. To say that I am a Fitz- Boodle is to say at once that I am a gentleman. Our family has held the estate of Boodle ever since the reign of Henry H. \ and it is out of no ill-will to my elder brother, or unnatural desire for his death, but only because the estate is a very good one, that I wish heartily it was mine : I would say as much of Chatsworth or Eaton Hall. I am not, in the first place, what is called a ladies' man, having contracted an irrepressible habit of smoking after dinner, which has obliged me to give up a great deal of the dear creatures' society; nor can I go much to country-houses 35 S40 ^-^^ FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. for the same reason. Say what they will, ladies do not like you to smoke in their bedrooms ; their silly little noses scent out the odor upon the chintz, weeks after you have left them. Sit John has been caught coming to bed particularly merry and redolent of cigar smoke ; young George, from Eaton, was absolutely found in the little green-house puffing an Havana; and when discovered, they both lay the blame upon Fitz-Boodle.' " It was Mr. Fitz-Boodle, mamma," says George, " who offered me the cigar, and I did not like to refuse him." " That rascal Fitz seduced us, my dear," said Sir John, "and kept us laugh ing until past midnight." Her ladyship instantly sets me down as a person to be avoided. " George," whispers she to her boy, " promise me, on your honor, when you go to town, not to know that man." And when she enters the breakfast-room for prayers, the first greeting is a peculiar expression of coun- tenance, and inhaling of breath, by which my lady indicates the presence of some exceedingly disagreeable odor in the room. She makes you the faintest of curtseys, and regards you. if not wdth a "flashing eye," as in the novels, at least with a "distend- ed nostril." During the whole of the service, her heart is filled M'ith the blackest gall towards you ; and she is thinking about the best means of getting you out of the house. What is this smoking that it should be considered a crime } I believe in my heart that women are jealous of it, as of a rival. They speak of it as of some secret, awful vice that seizes upon a man, and makes him a pariah from genteel society. I would lay a guinea that many a lady who has just been kind enough to read the above lines lays down the book, after this confession of mine that I am a smoker, and says, " Oh, the vulgar wretch ! " and passes on to something else. Ilie fact is, that the cigar is a rival to the ladies, and their conqueror too. In the chief pipe-smoking nations they are kept in subjection. While the chief, Little White Belt, smokes, the women are silent in his wigwam ; while Mahomet Ben Jawbrahim causes volumes of odorous incense of Latakia to play round his beard, the women of the harem do not dis- turb his meditations, but only add to the delight of them by tinkling on a dulcimer and dancing before him. When Pro- fessor Strumpff of Gottingen takes down No. 13 from the wall, with a picture of Beatrice Cenci upon it, and which holds a pound of canaster, the frau Professorin knows that for two hours Hermann is engaged, and takes up her stockings and knits in quiet. The constitution of French society has beer: quite ciiangcd within i!ic last twelve years: an ancient and FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 541 respectable dynasty has been overthrown ; an aristocracy which Napoleon could never master has disappeared : and from what cause ? I do not hesitate to say,— from the habit of smoking. Ask any man whether, five years before the revolution of July, if you wanted a cigar at Paris, they did not bring you a roll of tobacco with a straw in it ? Now, the whole city smokes j society is changed ; and be sure of this, ladies, a similar com- bat is going on in this country at present between cigar-smoking and you. Do you suppose you will conquer ? Look over the wide world, and see that your adversary has overcome it. Germany has been puffing for threescore years ; France smokes to a man. Do you think you can keep the enemy out of Eng- land ? Psha ! look at his progress. Ask the club-houses, Have they smoking-rooms, or not ? Are they not obliged to yield to the general want of the age, in spite of the resistance of the old women on the committees ? I, for my part, do not despair to see a bishop lolling out of the " Athenaeum " with a cheroot in his mouth, or, at any rate, a pipe stuck in his shovel- hat. But as in all great causes and in promulgating new and illustrious theories, their first propounders and exponents are generally the victims of their enthusiasm, of course the first preachers of smoking have been martyrs, too ; and George Fitz-Boodle is one. The first gas-man was ruined ; the in- ventor of steam-engine printing became a pauper. I began to smoke in days when the task was one of some danger, and paid the penalty of my crime. I was flogged most fiercely for my first cigar ; for, being asked to dine one Sunday evening with a half-pay colonel of dragoons (the gallant, simple, humorous Shortcut — heaven bless him ! — I have had many a guinea from him who had so few), he insisted upon my smoking in his room at the " Salopian," and the consequence was, that I became so violently ill as to be reported intoxicated upon my return to Slaughter-House School, where I was a boarder, and I was whipped the next morning for my peccadillo. At Christ Church, one of our tutors was the celebrated lamented Otto Rose, who would have been a bishop under the present Gov- ernment, had not an immoderate indulgence in water-gruel cut short his elegant and useful career. He was a good man, a pretty scholar and poet (the episode upon the discovery of eau-de-Cologne, in his prize-poem on " The Rhine," was con- sidered a masterpiece of art, though I am not much of a judge myself upon such matters"), and he was as remarkable for his fondness for a tuft as for his nervous antipathy to tobacco. As ^^2 ^//^ FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. ill-luck would have it, my rooms (in Tom Quad) were exactly ander his ; and I was grown by this time to be a confirmed smoker. I was a baronet's son (we are of Tames the First's creation), and I do believe our tutor could have pardoned any crime in the world but this. Pie had seen me in a tandem, and at that moment was seized with a violent fit of sneezing — (sternutatory paroxysm he called it) — at the conclusion of which I was a mile down the Woodstock Road. Ho had seen me in pink, as we used to call it, swaggering in the open sun- shine across a grass-plot in the court ; but spied out oppor- tunely a servitor, one Todhunter by name, who was going to morning chapel with his shoestring untied, and forthwith sprung towards that unfortunate person, to set him an imposi- tion. Everything, in fact, but tobacco he could forgive. Why did cursed fortune bring him into the rooms over mine ? The odor of the cigars made his gentle spirit quite furious ; and one luckless morning, when I was standing before my " oak," and chanced to puff a great boiiffce of Varinas into his face, he for- got his respect for my family altogether (I was the second son, and my brother a sickly creature thcu^ — he is now sixteen stone in weight, and has a half-score of children) ; gave me a severe lecture, to which I replied rather hotly, as was my wont. And then came demand for an apology ; refusal on my part ; appeal to the dean ; convocation ; and rustication of George Savage Fitz-Boodle. My father had taken a second wife (of the noble house of Flintskinner), and Lady Fitz- Boodle detested smoking, as a wo- man of her high principles should. She had an entire mastery over the worthy old gentleman, and thought I wa^ a sort of demon of wickedness. The old man went down to his grave with some similar notion, — heaven help him ! and left me but the wretched twelve thousand pounds secured to me on my poor mother's property. In the army, my luck was much the same. I joined the th Lancers, Lieut.-Col. Lord Martingale, in the year 1817. I only did duty with the regiment for three months. We were quartered at Cork, where I found the Irish doodheen and tobacco the pleasantest smoking possible ; and was found by Ills lordship, one day upon stable duty, smoking the shortest, dearest little dumpy clay-pipe in the world. " Cornet Fitz-Boodle," said my lord, in a towering passion., 'Irom what blackguard did you get that pipe ? " I omit the oaths which garnished invariably his lordship's conversation. FTTZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 543 "I got it, my lord," said I, "from one Terence Mullins, a jingle-driver, with a packet of his peculiar tobacco. You some- times smoke Turkish, I believe ; do try this. Isn't it good ? " And in the simj^lest way in the world I puffed a volume into his face, "I see you like it," said I so coolly, that the men — and 1 do believe the horses — burst out laughing. He started back — choking almost, and recovered himself only to vent such a storm of oaths and curses that I was com- pelled to request Capt. Rawdon (the captain on duty) to take note of his lordshiiDs words ; and unluckily could not help adding a question which settled my business. " You were good enough," I said, ''to ask me, my lord, from what blackguard I got my pipe ; might I ask from what blackguard you learned your language ? " This was quite enough. Had I said, " From what getitkifian did your lordship learn your language ? " the point would have been quite as good, and my Lord Martingale would have suf- fered in my place : as it was, I was so strongly recommended to^ sell out by his Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief, that, being of a good-natured disposition, never knowing how to refuse a friend, I at once threw up my hopes of military distinction and retired into civil life. My lord was kind enough to meet me afterwards in a field in the Giaumire Road, where he put a ball into my leg. This I returned to him some years later with about twenty-three others — black ones — when he came to be balloted for at a club of which I have the honor to be a member. Thus by the indulgence of a simple and harmless propen- sity, — of a pro^Density which can inflict an injury upon no person or thing except the coat and the person of him who in- dulges in it, — of a custom honored and observed in almost all the nations of the world, — of a custom which, far from leading a man into any wickedness or dissipation to which youth is subject, on the contrary, begets only benevolent silence and thoughtful good-humored obsen^ation — I found at the age of twenty all my prospects in life destroyed. I cared not for woman in those days : the calm smoker has a sweet companion in his pipe. I did not drink immoderately of wine ; for though a friend to trifling potations, to excessively strong drinlvs tobacco is abhorrent- I never thought of gambling, for the lover of the pipe has no need of such excitement ; but I was considered a monster of dissipation in my family, and bade fail to come to ruin. "Look at George," my mother-in-law said to the genteel 544 "^^^ FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. and correct young Flintskinners. " He entered the world with every prospect in life, and see in wliat an abyss of degradation his fatal habits have plunged him ! At school he was flogged and disgraced, he was disgraced and rusticated at the university, he was disgraced and expelled from the army ! He might have had the living of Boodle " (her ladyship gave it to one of her nephews), " but he would not take his degree : his papa would have purchased him a troop — nay, a lieutenant-colonelcy some day, but for his fatal excesses. And now as long as my dear husband will listen to the voice of a wife who adores him — • never, never shall he spend a shilling upon so worthless a young man. He has a small income from his mother (I cannot but think that the first Lady Fitz-Boodle was a weak and misguided person) ; let him live upon his mean pittance as he can, and I heartily pray we may not hear of him in jail ! " My brother, after he came to the estate, married the ninth daughter of our neighbor, Sir John Spreadeagle ; and Boodle Hall has seen a new little Fitz-boodle with every succeeding spring. The dowager retired to Scotland with a large jointure and a wondrous heap of savings. Lady Fitz is a good creature, but she thinks me something diabolical, trembles when she sees me, and gathers all her children about her, rushes into the nursery whenever I pay that little seminary a visit, and actually slapped poor little Frank's ears one day when I was teaching him to ride upon the back of a Newfoundland dog. " George," said my brother to me the last time I paid him a visit at the old hall, " don't be angry, my dear fellow, but Maria is in a — hum — in a delicate situation, expecting her — hum " — (the eleventh) — " and do you know you frighten her ? It was but yesterday you met her in the rookery — you were smoking that enormous German pipe — and when she came in she had an hysterical seizure, and Drench says that in her situ- ation it's dangerous. And I say, George, if you go to town you'll find a couple of hundred at your banker's." And with this the poor fellow shook me by the hand, and called for a fresh bottle of claret. Afterwards he told me, with many hesitations, that my room at Boodle Hall had been made into a second nursery. I see my sister-in-law in London twice or thrice in the season, and the little people, who have almost forgotten to call me uncle George. It's hard, too, for I am a lonely man after all, and my heart yearns to them. The other day I smuggled a couple of them into my chambers, and had a little feast of cream and straw- FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. C45 berries to welcome them. But it had like to have cost the nursery-maid (a Swiss girl that Fitz-Boodle hired somewhere in his travels) her place. My step-mamma, who happened to be in town, came flying down in her chariot, pounced upon the poor thing and the children in the midst of the entertainment; and when I asked her, with rather a bad grace to be sure, to take a chair and a share of the feast — " Mr. Fitz-Boodle,"' said she, " I am not accustomed to sit down in a place that smells of tobacco like an ale-house — an ale-house inhabited by a serpent, sir ! A serpent ! — do you under- stand me ? — who carries his poison into his brother's own house, and purshues his eenfamous designs before his brother's own children. Put on Miss Maria's bonnet this instant. Mamsell, ontondy-voo ? Metty le bonny a mamsell. And I shall take care, Mamsell, that you return to Switzerland to-morrow. I've no doubt you are a relation of Courvoisier — oiii I oui! Coiir- voisier, vous cojftprenny — and you shall certainly be sent back to your friends." With this speech, and with the children and their maid sob- bing before her, my lady retired ; but for once my sister-in-law was on my side, not liking the meddlement of the elder lady. I know, then, that from indulging in that simple habit of smoking, I have gained among the ladies a dreadful reputation, I see that they look coolly upon me, and darkly at their hus- bands when they arrive at home in my company. Men, I ob- serve, in consequence, ask me to dine much oftener at the club, or the " Star and Garter " at Richmond, or at " Love- grove's," than in their own houses ; and with this sort of ar- rangement I am fain to acq^uiesce ; for, as I said before, I am of an easy temper, and can at any rate take my cigar-case out after dinner at Blackwall, when my lady or the duchess is not by.^ I know, of course, the best men in town ; and as for ladies' society, not having it (for I will have none of your pseudo-ladies, such as sometimes honor bachelors' parties, — ■ actresses, couturieres, opera-dancers, and so forth) — as for ladies' society, I say, I cry pish ! 'tis not worth the trouble of the complimenting, and the bother of pumps and black silk stockings. Let any man remember what ladies' society was when he had an opportunity of seeing them among themselves, as What- d'ye-call'im does in the Thesmophoria — (I beg pardon, I was on the verge of a classical allusion, which I abominate) — I mean at that period of his life when the intellect is pretty acute, though the body is small — namely, when a young gentleman is 546 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. about efeven years of age, dining at his father's table during the holidays, and is requested by his papa to quit the dinner- table when the ladies retire from it. CorblcH ! I recollect their whole talk as well as if it had been whispered but yesterday ; and can see, after a long din- ner, the yellow summer sun throwing long shadows over the lawn before the dining-room windows, and my poor mother and her company of ladies sailing away to the music-room in old Boodle Hall. The Countess Dawdley was the great lady in our county, a portly lady who used to love crimson satin in those days, and birds of paradise. She was flaxen-haired, and the Regent once said she resembled one of King Charles's beauties. When Sir John Todcaster used to begin his famous story of the exciseman (I shall not tell it here, for very good reasons), my poor mother used to turn to Lady Dawdley, and give that mvstic signal at which all females rise from their chairs. , Tuft- hunt, the curate, would spring from his seat, and be sure to be the first to open the door for the retreating ladies ; and my brother Tom and I, though remaining stoutly in our places, were speedily ejected from them by the governor's invariable remark, " Tom and George, if you have had quite enough of wine, you had better go and join your mamma." Yonder she marches, heaven bless her ! through the old oak hall (how long the shadows of the antlers are on the wainscot, and the armor of Rollo Fitzboodle looks in the sunset as if it were emblazoned with rubies) — yonder she marches, stately and tall, in her in- variable pearl-colored tabinet, followed by Lady Dawdley, blazing like a flamingo ; next comes Lady Emily Tufthunt (she was Lady Emily Flintskinner), who will not for all the world take precedence of rich, vulgar, kind, good-humored Mrs. Col- o/id Grogwater, as she would be called, with a yellow little husband from Madras, who first taught me to drink sangaree. He was a new arrival in our county, but paid nobly to the hounds, and occupied hospitably a house which was always famous for its hospitality — Sievely Hall (poor Bob Cullender ran through seven thousand a year before he was thirty years old). Once when I was a lad. Colonel Grogwater gave me two gold mohurs out of his desk for whist-markers, and I'm sorry to say I ran up from Eton and sold them both for seventy- three shillings at a shop in Cornhill. But to return to the ladies, who are all this while kept waiting in the hall, and to their usual conversation after dinner. Can any man forget how miserably flat it was ? Five matrons sit on sofas, and talk in a subdued voice : — FTTZ-BOODLE'S COJVFESS/OJVS. 547 JwVs/ Lady {mysteriously). — "My dear Lady Dawdley, do tell me about poor Susan Tuckett." Second Lady. — "All three children are perfectly well, and 1 assure you as fine babies as I ever saw in my life. I made her give them Daffey's Elixir the first day ; and it was the greatest mercy that I had some of Frederick's baby-clothes by me ; for you know I had provided Susan with sets for one only, and really " Third Lady. — " Of course one couldn't ; and for my part I think your ladyship is a great deal too kind to these people. A little gardener's boy dressed in Lord Dawdley's frocks indeed ! I recollect that one at his christening had the sweetest lace in the world ! " Fourth Lady. — " What do you think of this, ma'am — Lady Emily, I mean 1 I have just had it from Howell and James : — guipure, they call it. Isn't it an odd name for lace .^ And they charge me, upon my conscience, four guineas a yard ! " Third Lady. — " My mother, when she came to Flintskinner, had lace upon her robe that cost sixty guineas a yard, ma'am ! 'Twas sent from Malines direct by our relation, the Count d'Araignay." Fourth Lady {aside). — " I thought she would not let the evening pass without talking of her Malines lace and her Count d'Araignay. Odious people ! they don't spare their backs, but they pinch their " Here Tom upsets a coiTee-cup over his white jean trousers, and another young gentlemen bursts into a laugh, saying, " By Jove, that's a good 'un ! " "George, my dear," says mamma, "had not you and your young friend better go into the garden ? But mind, no fruit, or Dr. Glauber must be called in again immediately ! " And we all go, and in ten minutes I and my brother are fighting in the stables. If, instead of listening to the matrons and their discourse, we had taken the opportunity of attending to the conversation of the Misses, we should have heard matter not a whit more interesting. First Miss. — " They were all three in blue crape ; you never saw anything so odious. And I know for a certainty that they wore those dresses at Muddlebury, at the archery-ball, and I dare say they had them in town." Second Miss. — " Don't you think Jemima decidedly crooked ? And those fair complexions they freckle so, that really M'ss Blanche ou£rht to be called Miss Brown." 548 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. Third Miss.—'' He, he, he ! " Fourth Miss. — "Don't you think Blanche is a pretty name ? " First Aliss. — " La ! do you think so, dear ? Why it's my second name ! " Second Miss. — " Then I'm sure Captain Travers thinks it a beautiful name ! " Ihird Miss.—'' He, he, he ! " Fourth Miss. — " What was he telling you at dinner that seemed to interest you so ? " First Miss. — " O law, nothing ! — that is, yes ! Charles — that is, — Captain Travers, is a sweet poet, and was reciting to me some lines that he had composed upon a faded violet : " ' The odor from the flower is gone, That like thy ' like thy something, I forget what it was ; but his lines are sweet, r.nd so original too ! I wish that horrid Sir John Tod- caster had not begun his story of the exciseman. For Lady Fitz-Boodle always quits the table when he begins." Third Miss. — " Do you like those tufts that gentlemen wear sometimes on their chins ? " Second Aliss. — " Nonsense, Mary ! " Third Miss. — " Well, I only asked, Jane. Frank thinks, you know, that he shall very soon have one, and puts bear's- grease on his chin every night." Second Miss. — " Mary, nonsense ! " Third Aliss. — " Well, only ask him. You know he came to our dressing-room last night and took the pomatum away ; and he says that when boys go to Oxford they always " First Afiss. — " O heavens ! have you heard the news about the Lancers ? Charles — that is, Captain Travers, told it me ! " Second Afiss. — " Law ! they won't go away before the ball, I hope ! " First Afiss. — " No, but on the 15th they are to shave their mustaches ! He says that Lord Tufto is in a perfect fury about it ! " Second Afiss. — " And poor George Beardmore, too ! " &c. Here Tom upsets the coffee over his trousers, and the con- versations end. I can recollect a dozen such, and ask any man of sense whether such talk amuses him ? Try again to speak to a young lady while you are dancing • — what we call in this country — a quadrille. What nonsense do you invariably give and receive in return ! No, I am a FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 549 woman-scorner, and don't care to own it. I hate young ladies ! Have I not been in love with several, and has any one of them ever treated me decently ? I hate married women ! Do they not hate me ? and, simply because I smoke, try to draw their husbands away from my society? I hate dowagers ! Have I not cause ? Does not every dowager in London point to George Fitz-Boodle as to a dissolute wretch whom young and old should avoid ? And yet do not imagine that I have not loved. I have, and madly, many, many times ! I am but eight-and-thirty,* not past the age of passion, and may very likely end by running oflf with an heiress — or a cook-maid (for who knows what strange freaks Love may choose to play in his own particular person ? and I hold a man to be a mean creature who calculates about checking any such sacred imi^ulse as lawful love) — I say, though despising the sex in general for their conduct to me, I know of particular persons belonging to it who are worthy of all respect and esteem, and as such I beg leave to point out the particular young lady who is perusing these lines. Do not, dear madam, then imagine that if I knew you I should be disposed to sneer at you. Ah, no ! Fitz-Boodle's bosom has tenderer sentiments than from his way of life you would fancy, and stern by rule is only too soft by practice. Shall I whisper to you the story of one or two of my attachments ? All terminating fatally (not in death, but in disappointment, which, as it occurred, I used to imagine a thousand times more bitter than death, but from which one recovers somehow more readily than from the other- named complaint) — all, I say, terminating wretchedly to myself, as if some fatality pursued my desire to become a domestic character. My first love — no, let us pass that over. Sweet one ! thy name shall profane no hireling page. Sweet, sweet memory ! Ah, ladies, those delicate hearts of yours have, too, felt the throb. And between the last ob in the word throb and the words now written, I have passed a delicious period of perhaps an hour, perhaps a minute, I know not how long, thinking of that holy first love and of her who inspired it. How clearly every single incident of the passion is remembered by me ! and yet 'twas long, long since. I was but a child then — a child at school — and, if the truth must be told, L — ra R-ggl-s (I would not write her whole name to be made one of the Marquess of Hertford's executors) was a woman full thirteen years older than myself ; at the period of which I write she must have been * He is five-and-forty, i£ lie is a day old.— O. Y. 5SO THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. at least five-and-twenty. She and her mother used to sell tarts, hard-bake, lollipops, and other such simple comestibles, on Wednesdays and Saturdays (half-holidays), at a private school where I received the first rudiments of a classical education. I used to go and sit before her tray for hours, but I do not think the poor girl ever supposed any motive led me so con- stantly to her little stall beyond a vulgar longing- for her tarts and her ginger-beer. Yes, even at that early period my actions were misrepresented, and the fatality which has oppressed my whole life began to show itself, — the purest passion was misin- terpreted by her and my school-fellows, and they thought I was actuated by simple gluttony. They nicknamed me Alicom- payne. Well, be it so. Laugh at early passion ye who will ; a high- born boy madly in love with a lowly ginger-beer girl ! She married afterwards, took the name of Latter, and now keeps with her old husband a turnpike, through which I often ride ; but I can recollect her bright and rosy of a sunny summer after- noon, her red cheeks shaded by a battered straw bonnet, her tarts and ginger-beer upon a neat white cloth before her, mend- ing blue worsted stockings until the young gentlemen should interrupt her by coming to buy. Many persons will call this description low ; I do not envy them their gentility, and have always observed through life (as, to be sure, every other gentleman has observed as well as my- self) that it is y onr ^an'enu who stickles most for what he calls the genteel, and has the most squeamish abhorrence for what is frank and natural. Let us pass at once, however, as all the world must be pleased, to a recital of an affair which occurred in the very best circles of society, as they are called, viz : my next unfortunate attachment. It did not occur for several years after that simple and pla- tonic passion just described : for though they may talk of youth as the season of romance, it has always appeared to me that there are no beings in the world so entirely unromantic and self- ish as certain young English gentlemen from the age of fifteen to twenty. The oldest Lovelace about town is scarcely more hard-hearted and scornful than they ; they ape all sorts of self- ishness and rouerie : they aim at excelling at cricket, at billiards, at rowing, at drinking, and set more store by a red coat and a neat pair of top-boots than by any other glory. A young fellow staggers into college-chapel of a morning, and communicates to all his friends that he was '■^ so cut last night," with the greatest possible pride. He makes a joke of having sisters and a kin^ FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSION'S. rei mother at home who loves him ; and if he speaks of his father, it is with a knowing sneer to say that ht; has a tailor's and a horse-dealer's bill that will surprise "the old governor." He would be ashamed of being in love. I, in common with my kind, had these affectations, and my perpetual custom of smok- ing added not a little to my reputation as an accomplished roue What came of this custom in the army and at college, the reader has already heard. Alas ! in life it went no better with me, and many pretty chances I had went off in that accursed smoke. After quitting the army in the abmpt manner stated, I passed some short time at home, and was tolerated by my mother-in-law, because I had formed an attachment to a young lady of good connections and with a considerable fortune, which was really very nearly becoming mine. Mary M'Alister was the only daughter of Colonel M'Alister, late of the Blues, and Lady Susan his wife. Her ladyship was no more ; and, indeed, of no family compared to ours (which has refused a peerage any time these two hundred years) ; but being an earl's daughter and a Scotchwoman, Lady Emily Fitz-Boodle did not fail to consider her highly. Lady Susan was daughter of the late Ad- miral Earl of Ivlarlingspike and Baron Plumduff. The Colonel, Miss M'Alister's father, had a good estate, of which his daughter was the heiress, and as I fished her out of the water upon a pleasure-party, and swam with her to shore, we became natu- ally intimate, and Colonel M'Alister forgot, on account of the service rendered to him, the dreadful reputation for profligacy which I enjoyed in the county. Well, to cut a long story short, which is told here merely for the moral at the end of it, I should have been Fitz-Boodle ?,I'Alister at this minute most probably, and master of four thousand a year, but for the fatal cigar-box. I bear Mary no malice in saying that she was a high-spirited little girl, loving, before all things, her own way ; nay, perhaps I do not, from long habit and indulgence in tobacco-smoking, appreciate the delicacy of female organizations, which were oftentimes most painfully affected by it. She was a keen-sighted little person, and soon found that the world had belied poor George Fitz- Boodle ; who, instead of being the cunning monster people sup- posed him to be, was a simple, reckless, good-humored, honest fellow, marvellously addicted to smoking, idleness, and telling the truth. She called me Orson, and I was hapjoy enough on the 14th February, in the year 18 — (it's of no consequence), to send her such a pretty little copy of verses about Orson and Valentine, in which the rude habits of the savage man were Hr2 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. shown to be overcome by the polished graces of his kind and brilliant conqueror, that she was fairly overcome, and said to me, " George Fitz-Boodle, if you give up smoking for a year I will marry you." I swore I would, of course, and went home and flung four pounds of Hudson's cigars, two meerschaum pipes that had cost me ten guineas at the establishment of Mr. Gattie at Ox- ford, a tobacco-bag that Lady Fitz-Boodle had given me before her marriage with my father (it was the only present that I ever had from her or any member of the Flintskinner family), and some choice packets of Varinas and Syrian, into the lake in Boodle Park. The weapon amongst them all which I most re- gretted was — will it be believed ? — the little black doodheen which had been the cause of the quarrel between Lord Martin- gale and me. However, it went along with the others. I would not allow my groom to have so much as a cigar, lest I should be tempted hereafter ; and the consequence was that a few days after many fat carps and tenches in the lake (I must confess 'twas no bigger than a pond) nibbled at the tobacco, and came floating on their backs on the top of the water quite intoxicated. My conversion made some noise in the county, being emphasized as it were by this fact of the fish. I can't tell you with what pangs I kept my resolution ; but keep it I did for some time. With so much beauty and wealth, Mary M'Alister had of course many suitors, and among them was the young Lord Dawdley, whose mamma has previously been described in her gown of red satin. As I used to thrash Dawdley at school, I thrashed him in after-life in love ; he put up with his disappoint- ment pretty well, and came after a while and shook hands with me, telling me of the bets that there were in the county, where the whole story was known, for and against me. For the fact is, as I must own, that Mary M'Alister, the queerest, frankest of women, made no secret of the agreement, or the cause of it. " I did not care a penny for Orson," she said, " but he would go on writing me such dear pretty verses that at last I couldn't help saying yes. But if he breaks his promise to me, I declare, upon my honor, I'll break mine, and nobody's heart will be broken either." This was the perfect fact, as I must confess, and I declare that it was only because she amused me and delighted me, and provoked me, and made me laugh very much, and because, no doubt, she was very rich, that I had any attachment for her. " For heaven's sake, George," my father said to me, as I FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 553 quitted home to follow my beloved to London, " remember that you are a younger brother and have a lovely girl and four thousand a year within a year's reach of you. Smoke as much as you like, my boy, after marriage," added the old gentleman, knowingly (as if he, honest soul, after his second marriage, dared drink an extra pint of wine without my lady's permis- sion !) " but eschew the tobacco-shops till then." I went to London resolving to act upon the paternal advice, and oh ! how I longed for the day when I should be married, vowing in my secret soul that I would light a cigar as I walked out of St. George's, Hanover Square. Well, I came to London, and so carefully avoided smoking that I would not even go into Hudson's shop to pay his bill, and as smoking was not the fashion then among young men as (thank heaven !) it is now, I had not many temptations from my friends' examples in my clubs or elsewhere; only little Dawdley began to smoke, as if to spite me. He had never done so before, but confessed — the rascal ! — that he enjoyed a cigar now, if it were but to mortify me. But I took to other and more dangerous excitements, and upon the nights when not in attend- ance upon Mary M'Alister, might be found in very dangerous proximity to a polished mahogany table, round which claret bottles circulated a great deal too often, or worse still, to a table covered with green cloth and ornamented with a couple of wax-candles and a couple of packs of cards, and four gentle- men playing the enticing game of whist. Likewise, I came to carry a snuff-box, and to consume in secret huge quantities of rappee. For ladies' society I was even then disinclined, hating and despising small talk, and dancing, and hot routs, and vulgar scrambles for suppers. I never could understand the pleasure of acting the part of la,ckey to a dowager, and standing behind her chair, or bustling through the crowd for her carriage. I always found an opera too long by two acts, and have repeatedly fallen asleep in the presence of Mary M'Alister herself, sitting at the back of the box shaded by the huge beret of her old aunt. Lady Betty Plumduff ; and many a time has Dawdley, with Miss M'Alister on his arm, wakened me up at the close oi the entertainment in time to offer my hand to Lady Betty and lead the ladies to their carriage. If I attended her occasionally to any ball or party of pleasure, I went, it must be confessed, with clumsy, ill- disguised ill-humor. Good heavens ! have I often and often thought in the midst of a song, or the very thick of a ball-room, can people prefer this to a book and a sofa, and 554 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. a clear, clear cigar-box, from thy stores, O charming Mariana Woodville ! Deprived of my favorite plant, I grew sick in mind and body, moody, sarcastic, and discontented. Such' a state of things could not long continue, nor could Miss M'Alister continue to have much attachment for such a sullen, ill-conditioned creature as I then was. She used to make me wild with her wit and her sarcasm, nor have I ever possessed the readiness to parry or reply to those fine points of woman's wit, and she treated me the more mercilessly as she saw that I could not resist her. Well, the polite reader must remember a great fete that was given at B House, some years back, in honor of his High- ness the Hereditary Prince of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel, who was then in London on a visit to his illustrious relatives. It was a fancy ball, and the poems of Scott being at that time all the fashion, Mary was to appear in the character of the " Lady of the Lake," old M'Alister making a very tall and severe- looking harper; Dawdlev, a most insignificant Fitzjames ; and your humble servant a stalwart manly Roderick Dhu. We were to meet at B House at twelve o'clock, and as I had no fancy to drive through the town in my cab dressed in a kilt and philibeg, I agreed to take a seat in Dawdley's carriage, and to dress at his house in May Fair. At eleven I left a very pleasant bachelor's party, growling to quit them and the honest, jovial claret-bottle, in order to scrape and cut capers like a harlequin from the theatre. When I arrived at Dawdley's, I mounted to a dressing-room, and began to array myself in my cursed costume. The art of costuming was by no means so well understood in those days as it has been since, and mine was out of all cor- rectness. I was made to sport an enormous plume of black ostrich-feathers, such as never was worn by any Highland chief, and had a huge tiger-skin sporran to dangle like an apron be- fore innumerable yards of plaid petticoat. The tartan cloak was outrageously hot and voluminous ; it was the dog-days, and all these things I was condemned to wear in the midst of a thousand people ! Dawdley sent up word, as I was dressing, that his dress had not arrived, and he took my cab and drove off in a rage to his tailor. There was no hurry, I thought, to make a fool of myself ; so having put on a pair of plaid trews, and very neat pumps with shoe-buckles, my courage failed me as to the rest of the dress, an'! taking down one of his dressing-gowns, I went down stairs to the study, to wait unMl he should arrive. FTTZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 555 The windows of the pretty room were open, and a snug sofa, with innumerable cushions, drawn towards one of them. A great tranquil moon was staring into the chamber, in which stood, amidst books and all sorts of bachelor's lumber, a silver tray with a couiDle of tall Venice glasses, and a bottle of Ma- raschino bound with straw. I can see now the twinkle of the liquor in the moonshine, as I poured it into the glass ; and I swal- lowed two or three little cups of it, for my spirits were downcast. Close to the tray of Maraschino stood — must I say it ? — a box, a mere box of cedar, bound rudely together with pink paper, branded with the name of " Hudson " on the side, and bearing on the cover the arms of Spain. I thought I would just take up the box and look in it. Ah heaven ! there they were — a hundred and fifty of them, in calm, comfortable rows : lovingly side by side they lay, with the great moon shining down upon them — thin at the tip, full at the waist, elegantly round and full, a little spot here and there shining upon them — beauty spots upon the cheek of Sylvia. The house was quite quiet. Dawdley always smoked in his room ; — I had not smoked for four months and eleven days. ***** When Lord Dawdley came into the study, he did not make any remarks ; and oh, how easy my heart felt ! He was dressed in his green boots, after Westall's picture, correctly. " It's time to be off, George," said he ; " they told me you were dressed long ago. Come up, my man, and get ready." I rushed up into the dressing-room, and madly dashed my head and arms into a pool of eau-de-Cologne. I drank, I be- lieve, a tumblerful of it. I called for my clothes, and, strange to say, they were gone. My servant brought them to me, how- ever, saying that he had put them away — making some stupid excuse. I put them on, not heeding them much, for I was half tipsy with the excitement of the ci of the smo — of what had taken place in Dawdley's study, and with the Maraschino and eau-de-Cologne I had drunk. " What a fine odor of lavender-water ! " said Dawdley, as we rode in the carriage. I put my head out of the window and shrieked out a laugh ; but made no other reply. " What's the joke, George ? " said Dawdley. " Did I say anything witty 1 " "No," cried I, yelling still more wildly; "nothing more witty than usual." 36 556 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. " Don't be severe, George," said he, with a mortified air; and we drove on to B House. * * * * # There must have been something strange and wild in my appearance, and those awful black plumes, as I passed through the crowd ; for I observed people looking and making a strange nasal noise (it is called sniffing, and I have no other more delicate term for it), and making way as I pushed on. But I moved forward very fiercely, for the wine, the Maraschino, the eau-de-Cologne, and the — the excitement had rendered me al- most wild ; and at length I arrived at the place where my Lady of the Lake and her Harper stood. How beautiful she looked, — all eyes were upon her as she stood blushing. When she saw me, however, her countenance assumed the appearance of alarm. " Good heavens, George ! " she said, stretching her hand to me, ^' what makes you look so wild and pale ? " I ad- vanced, and was going to take her hand, when she dropped it with a scream. " Ah — ah — ah ! " she said. " Mr. Fitz-Boodle, you've been smoking ! " There was an immense laugh from four hundred people round about us, and the scoundrelly Dawdley joined in the yell. I rushed furiously out, and, as I passed, hurtled over the fat Hereditary Prince of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel. " Es riecht hier ungeheuer stark von Tabak ! " I heard his Highness say, as I madly flung myself through the aides-de- camp. The next day Mary M'Alister, in a note full of the most odious good sense and sarcasm, reminded me of our agree- ment ; said that she was quite convinced that we were not by any means fitted for one another, and begged me to consider myself henceforth quite free. The little wretch had the imper- tinence to send me a dozen boxes of cigars, which, she said, would console me for my lost love ; as she was perfectly cer- tain that I was not mercenary, and that I loved tobacco better than any woman in the world. I believe she was right, though I have never to this day been able to pardon the scoundrelly stratagem by which Dawd- ley robbed me of a wife and won one himself. As I was lying on his sofa, looking at the moon and lost in a thousand happy contemplations. Lord Dawdley, returning from the tailor's, saw me smoking at my leisure. On entering his dressing-room, a horrible treacherous thought struck him. " I must not betray my friend," said he ; " but in love all is fair, and he shall be* FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 557 tray himself." There were my tartans, my cursed featl>ers, my tiger-skin sjDorran, upon the sofa. He called up my groom ; he made the rascal put on all my clothes, and, giving him a guinea and four cigars, bade him lock himself into the little pantry and smoke them without taking the dothcs off. John did so, and was very ill in conse- quence, and so when I came to B House, my clothes were redolent of tobacco, and. I lost lovely Mary M'Alister. I am godfather to one of Lady Dawdley's boys, and hers is the only house where I am allowed to smoke unmolested ; but I have never been able to admire Dawdley, a sly, sournois, spirit- less, lily-livered fellow, that took his name off all his clubs the year he married. DOROTHEA. Beyond sparring and cricket, I do not recollect I learned anything useful at Slaughter-House School, where I was edu- cated (according to an old family tradition, which sends par- ticular generations of gentlemen to particular schools in the kingdom ; and such is the force of habit, that though I hate the place, I shall send my own son thither too, should I marry any day). I say I learned little that was useful at Slaughter-House, and nothing that was ornamental. I would as soon have thought of learning to dance as of learning to climb chimneys. Up to the age of seventeen, as I have shown, I had a great contempt for the female race, and when age brought with it warmer and juster sentiments, where was I ? — I could no more dance nor prattle to a young girl than a young bear could. I have seen the ugliest little low-bred wretches carrying ofif young and lovely creatures, twirling with them in waltzes, whispering between their glossy curls in quadrilles, simpering with perfect equanimity, and cutting pas in that abominable " cavalier seul," until my soul grew sick with fury. In a word, I determined to learn to dance. But such things are hard to be acquired late in life, when the bones and habits of a man are formed. Look at a man in a hunting-field who has not been taught to ride as a boy. All the pluck and courage in the world will not make the man of him that I am, or as any man who has had the advantages of early education in the field. In the same way with dancing. Though I went to work with immense energy, both in Brewer Street, Golden Square (with an advertising fellow), and afterwards with old Coulon at Paris, I never was able to be easy in dancing ; and though little Coulon instructed me in a smile, it was a cursed forced one, that looked like the grin of a person in extreme agony. I once caught sight of it in a glass, and have hardly ever smiled since. FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 559 Most young men about London have gone through that strange secret ordeal of the dancing-school. I am given to understand that young snobs from attorneys' offices, banks, shops, and the like, make not the least mystery of their pro- ceedings in the saltatory line, but trip gayly, with pumps in hand, to some dancing-place about Soho, waltz and quadrille it with Miss Greengrocer or Miss Butcher, and fancy they have had rather a pleasant evening. There is one house in Dover Street, where, behind a dirty curtain, such figures may be seen hopping every night, to a perpetual fiddling ; and I have stood sometimes wondering in the street, with about six blackguard boys wondering too, at the strange contortions of the figures jumping up and down to the mysterious squeaking of the kit. Have they no shame ces gefis 1 are such degrading initiations to be held in public ? No, the snob may, but the man of refined mind never can submit to show himself in public laboring at the apprenticeship of this most absurd art. It is owing, per- haps, to this modesty, and the fact that I have no sisters at home, that I have never thoroughly been able to dance ; for though I always arrive at the end of a quadrille (and thank heaven for it too 1) and though, 1 beHeve, I make no mistake in particular, yet I solemnly confess I have never been able thoroughly to comprehend the mysteries of it, or what I have been about from the beginning to the end of the dance. I always look at the lady opposite, and do as she does : if she did not know how to dance /ar hasard, it would be all up. But if thev can't do anything else, women can dance : let us give them that praise at least. In London, then, for a considerable time, I used to get up at eight o'clock in the morning, and pass an hour alone with Mr. Wilkinson, of the Theatres Royal, in Golden Square ; — an hour alone. It was "one, two, three j one, two, three — now jump — right foot more out, Mr. Smith ; and if you could try and look a litde more cheerful ; your partner, sir, would like you hall the better." Wilkinson called me Smith, for the fact is, I did not tell him my real name, nor (thank heaven 1) does he know it to this day. I never breathed a word of my doings to any soul among my friends ; once a pack of them met me in the strange neigh- borhood, when, I am ashamed to say, I muttered something about a " little French milliner," and walked off, looking as knowing as I could. In Paris, two Cambridge-men and myself, who happened to be staying at a boarding-house together, agreed to go to Cou 560 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. Ion, a little creature of four feet high with a pigtail. His room was hung round with glasses. He made us take off our coats, and dance each before a mirror. Once he was standing before us playing on his kit— the sight of the little master and the pupil was so supremely ridiculous, that I burst into a yell of laughter, which so offended the old man that he walked away abruptly, and begged me not to repeat my visits. Nor did I. I was just getting into waltzing then, but determined to drop waltzing, and content myself with quadrilling for the rest of my days. This was all very well in France and England ; but in Ger- many what was I to do ? What did Hercules do when Om- phale captivated him ? What did Rinaldo do when Armida fixed upon him her twinkling eyes .'' Nay, to cut all historical instances short, by going at once to the earliest, what did Adam do when Eve tempted him ? He yielded and became her slave ; and so I do heartily trust every honest man Avill yield until the end of the world — he has no heart who will not. Wlien I was in Germany, I say, I began to learn to ivaltz. The reader from this will no doubt expect that some new love-adventures befell me — nor will his gentle heart be disappointed. Two deep and tremendous incidents occurred which shall be notified on the present occasion. The reader, perhaps, remembers the brief appearance of his Highness the Duke of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel at B House, in the first part of my Memoirs, at that unlucky period of my life when the Duke was led to remark the odor about my clothes, which lost me the hand of Mary M'Alister. I some- how found myself in his Highness's territories, of which anybody may read a description in the Almanack de Goiha. His High- ness's father, as is well known, married Emelia Kunegunda Thomasina Charleria Emanuela Louisa Georgina, Princess of Saxe-Pumpernickel, and a cousin of his Plighness the Duke. Thus the two principalities were united under one happy sov- ereign in the person of Philibert Sigismund Emanuel Maria, the reigning Duke, who has received from his country (on account of the celebrated pump which he erected in the market- place of Kalbsbraten) the well-merited appellation of the Mag- nificent. The allegory which the statues round about the pump represent, is of a very mysterious and complicated sort. Mi- nerva is observed leading up Ceres to a river-god, who has his itrMis rotnid the neck of Pomona ; while Mars (in a full-bot- \omed wi-^) is dri\en away by Peace, under whose mantle two lo\ely cliildren, representing the Duke's two provinces, repose. FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 56 j The celebrated Speck is, as need scarcely be said, the authof of this piece ; and of other magnificent edifices in the Residenz, such as the guard-room, the skittle-hall {GrossherzogUch Kalbs' braten piimpcrnickdisch Schkittelspielsaal)^ Sec, and the superb sentry-boxes before the Grand-Ducal Palace. He is Knight Grand Cross of the Ancient Kartoffel Order, as, indeed, is almost every one else in his Highness's dominions. The town of Kalbsbraten contains a population of two thousand inhabitants, and a palace which would accommodate about six times that number. The principality sends three and a half men to the German Confederation, who are commanded by a General (Excellency), two Major-Generals, and sixty-four officers of lower grades ; all noble, all knights of the Order, and almost all chamberlains to his Highness the Grand Duke. An excellent band of eighty performers is the admiration of the surrounding country, and leads the Grand-Ducal troops to battle in time of war. Only three of the contingent of soldiers returned from the Battle of Waterloo, where they won much honor ; the remainder was cut to pieces on that glorious day. There is a chamber of representatives (which, however, nothing can induce to sit), home and foreign ministers, residents from neighboring courts, law presidents, town councils, &c., all the adjuncts of a big or little government. The court has its chamberlains and marshals, the Grand Duchess her noble ladies in waiting, and blushing maids of honor. Thou wert one, Dorothea ! Dost remember the poor young Engliinder ? We parted in anger ; but I think — I think thou hast not for- gotten him. The way in which I have Dorothea von Speck present to my mind is this ; not as I first saw her in the garden — for her hair was in bandeaux then, and a large Leghorn hat witi: a deep ribbon covered half her fair face, — not in a morning-dress, which, by the way, was none of the newest nor the best made — but as I saw her afterwards at a ball at the pleasant splendid little court, where she moved the most beautiful of the beauties of Kalbsbraten. The grand saloon of the palace is lighted — the Grand Duke and his officers, the Duchess and her ladies, have passed through. I, in my uniform of the — th, and a number of young fellows (who are evidently admiring my legs and envying my distingue, appearance), are waiting round the entrance door, where a huge Heyduke is standing, and announc- ing the titles of the guests as they arrive. " Herr Oberhof- und- Bau- inspektor von Speck ! " shouts the Heyduke ; and the little Inspector comes in. His lady is ^62 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. on his arm — huge, in towering plumes, and her favorite cos- tume of light-blue. Fair women always dress in light-blue ol light-green ; and Frau von Speck is very stout. But who comes behind her ? Lieber Himmel ? It is Doro- thea ! Did earth, among all the flowers which have sprung from its bosom, produce ever one more beautiful ? She was none of your heavenly beauties, I tell you. She had nothing ethereal about her. No, sir ; she was of the earth earthy, and must have weighed ten stone four or five, if she weighed an ounce. She had none of your Chinese feet, nor waspy, un^ healthy waists, which those may admire who will. No : Dora's foot was a good stout one ; you could see her ankle (if her robe was short enough) without the aid of a microscope; and that envious little, sour, skinny Amalia von Mangelwiirzel used to hold up her four fingers and say (the two girls were most inti- mate friends, of course), " Dear Dorothea's vaist is so much dicker as dis." And so I have no doubt it was. But what then ? Goethe sings in one of his divine ep* grams : — " Epicures vaunting their taste, entitle me vulgar and savage, Give them their Brussels-sprouts, but I am contented with cabbage." I hate your little women — that is, when I am in love with a tall one ; and who would not have loved Dorothea .'' Fancy her, then, if you please, about five feet four inches high — fancy her in the family color of light-blue, a little scarf covering the most brilliant shoulders in the world ; and a pair of gloves clinging close round an arm that may, perhaps, be somewhat too large now, but that Juno might have envied then. After the fashion of young ladies on the continent, sh*; wears no jewels or gimcracks : her only ornament is a wreath of vine-leaves in her hair, with little clusters of artificial grapes. Down on her shoulders falls the brown hair, in rich liberal clus- ters ; all that health, and good-humor, and beauty can do for her face, kind nature has done for hers. Her eyes are frank, sparkling, and kind. As for her cheeks, what paint-box or dictionary contains pigments or words to describe their red ? They say she opens her mouth and smiles always to show the dimples in her cheeks. Psha ! she smiles because she is hap- py, and kind, and good-humored, and not because her teeth are little pearls. All the young fellows crowd up to ask her to dance, and, taking from her waist a little mother-of-pearl remembrancer, she notes them down. Old Schnabel for the polonaire ; Klin- FITZ-BOODLE 'S CONFESSIONS. 563 genspohr, first waltz ; Haarbart, second waltz ; Count Horn- pieper (the Danish envoy), third ; and so on. I have said why /could not ask her to waltz, and I turned away with a pang, and played ecarte' with Colonel Trumpenpack all night. In thus introducing this lovely creature in her ball-costume, I have been somewhat premature, and had best go back to the beginning of the history of my acquaintance with her. Dorothea, then, was the daughter of the celebrated Speck before mentioned. It is one of the oldest names in Germany, where her father's and mother's houses, those of Speck and Eyer, are loved wherever they are known. Unlike his warlike progenitor, Lorenzo von Speck, Dorothea's father had early shown himself a passionate admirer of art ; had quitted home to study architecture in Italy, and had become celebrated throughout Europe, and been appointed Oberhofarchitect and Kunst- und- Bau-inspektor of the united principalities. They are but four miles wide, and his genius has consequently but little room to play. What art can do, however, he does. The palace is frequently whitewashed under his eyes ; the theatre painted occasionally ; the noble public buildings erected, of which I have already made mention. I had come to Kalbsbraten, scarce knowing whither I went j and having, in about ten minutes, seen the curiosities of the place (I did not care to see the King's palace, for chairs and tables have no great charm for me), I had ordered horses ; and wanted to get on I cared not whither, when Fate threw Doro- thea in my way. I was yawning back to the hotel through the palace-garden, a valet-de-place at my side, when I saw a young lady seated under a tree reading a novel, her mamma on the same bench (a fat woman in light-blue) knitting a stocking, and two officers, choked in their stays, with various orders on their spinach-colored coats, standing by in first attitudes : the one was caressing the fat-lady-in-blue's little dog ; the other was twirling his own mustache, which was already as nearly as pos- sible curled into his own eye. I don't know how it is, but I hate to see men evidently inti- mate with nice-looking women, and on good terms with them- selves. There's something annoying in their cursed compla- cency — their evident sunshiny happiness. I've no woman to make sunshine for me ; and yet my heart tells me that not one, but several such suns, would do good to my system. "Who are those pert-looking officers," says I, peevishly, to the guide, " who are talking to those vulgar-looking wo men } " e64 "^HE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. " The big one, with the epaulets, is Major von Schnabel ; the little one, with the pale face, is Stiefel von Klingenspohr." " And the big blue woman ? " "The Grand-Ducal Pumpernickelian-court-architectress and UpperT'alace-and-building-inspectress Von Speck, born V. Eyer," replied the guide. " Your well-born honor has seen the pump in the market-place ; that is the work of the great Von Speck." " And yonder young person ? " " Mr. Court-architect's daughter ; the Friiulein Dorothea." ***** Dorothea looked up from her novel here, and turned her face towards the stranger who was passing, and then blushing turned it down again. Schnabel looked at me with a scowl, Klingenspohr with a simper, the dog with a yelp, the fat lady in blue just gave one glance, and seemed, I thought, rather well pleased. ''• SilcuL.e, Lischen ! " said she to the dog. " Go on, darling Dorothea," she added, to her daughter, who continued her novel. Her voice was a little tremulous, but very low and rich. For some reason or other, on getting back to the inn, I coun- termanded the horses, and said I would stay for the nighi. I not only stayed that night, but many, many afterwards ; and as for the manner in which I became acquainted with the Speck family, why it was a good joke against me at the time, and I did not like then to have it known ; but now it may as well come out at once. Speck, as everybody knows, lives in the market-place, opposite his grand work of art, the town pump, or fountain. I bought a large sheet of paper, and hav- ing a knack at drawing, sat down, with the greatest gravity, before the pump, and sketched it for several hours. I kne\y it would bring out old Speck to see. At first he contented him- self by flattening his nose against the window-glasses of his study, and looking what the Engliinder was about. Then he put on his gray cap with the huge green shade, and sauntered to the door : then he walked round me, and formed one of a band of street-idlers who were looking on : then at last he could re- strain himself no more, but, pulling off his cap, with a low bow, began to discourse upon arts, and architecture in particular. " It is curious," says he, " that you have taken the same view of which a print has been engraved." " That is extraordinary," says I (though it wasn't, for I had traced my drawing at a window off the very print in question). I added that I was, like all the world, immensely struck with FITZ-BOODLE'S COxVFESSIONS. 565 the beauty of the edifice ; heard of it at Rome, where it was considered to be superior to any of the celebrated fountains of that capital of the fine arts ; finally, that unless perhaps the celebrated fountain of Aldgate in London might compare with it, Kalbsbraten building, except in that case, was incomparable. This speech I addressed in French, of which the worthy Hofarchitect understood somewhat, and continuing to reply in German, our conversation grew pretty close. It is singular that I can talk to a man and pay him compliments with the utmost gravity, whereas, to a woman, I at once lose all self- possession, and have never said a pretty thing in my life. My operations on old Sf>eck were so conducted, that in a quarter of an hour I had elicited from him an invitation to go over the town with him, and see its architectural beauties. So we walked through the huge half-furnished chambers of the palace, we panted up the copper pinnacle of the church-tower, we went to see the Museum and Gymnasium, and coming back into the market-place again, what could the Hofarchitect do but offer me a glass of wine and a seat in his house ? He introduced me to his Gattinn, his Leocadia (the fat woman in blue), "as a young world-observer, and worthy art-friend, a young scion of British Adel, who had come to refresh himself at the Urquel- len of his race, and see his brethren of the great family of Her- mann," I saw instantly that the old fellow was of a romantic turn, this rodomontade to his lady : nor was she a whit less so ; nor was Dorothea less sentimental than her mamma. She knew everything regarding the literature of Albion, as she was pleased to call it ; and asked me news of all the famous writers there. I told her that Miss Edgeworth was one of the loveli- est young beauties at our court ; I described to her Lad}' Mor- gan, herself as beautiful as the wild Irish girl she drew ; I promised to give her a signature of Mrs, Hemans (which I wrote for her that very evening) ; and described a fox-hunt, at which I had seen Thomas Moore and Samuel Rogers, Esquires ; and a boxing-match, in which the athletic author of " Pelham " was pitched against the hardy mountain bard, Wordsworth. You see my education was not neglected, for though I have never read the works of the above-named ladies and gentlemen, yet I knew their names well enough. Time passed away. I, perhaps, was never so brilliant in conversation as when excited by the Asmanshauser and the brilliant eyes of Dorothea that clay. She and her parents had dined at their usual heathen hour; but I was, I don't care to c66 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 0-wn it, so smitten, that for the first time in my life I did not even miss the meal, and talked on until sLx: o'clock, when tea was served. Madame Speck said they always drank it ; and so placing a teaspoonfut of bohea in a cauldron of water, she placidly handed out this decoction, which we took with cakes and tartines- I leave you to imagine how disgusted Klingen- spohr and Schnabel looked when they stepped in as usual that evening to make their party of whist with the Speck family ! Down they were obliged to sit ; and the lovely Dorothea, for that night, declined to play altogether, and — sat on the sofa by me. What we talked about, who shall tell ? I would not, for my part, break the secret of one of those delicious conversations, of which I and every man in his time have held so many. You begin, very probably, about the weather — 'tis a common subject, but what sentiments the genius of Love can fling into it !■ I have often, for my part, said to the girl of my heart fof the time being, "^ It's a fine day," or, " It's a rainy morning ! " in a way that has brought tears to her eyes. Something beats in your heart, and twangle I a corresponding string thrills and echoes in hers. You offer her anything — her knitting-needles, a slice of bread-and-butter — what causes the grateful blush with which she accepts the one or the other? Why, she sees your heart handed over to her upon the needles, and the bread-and-butter is to her a sandwich with love inside it. If you say to your grandmother, " Ma'am, it's a fine day," or what not, she would find in the words no other meaning than their outward and visible one ; but say so to the girl you love, and she understands a thousand mystic meanings in them. Thus, in a word, though Dorothea and I did not, probably, on the first night of our meeting, talk of anything more than the weather, or trumps, or some subjects which to such listeners as Schnabel and Klingenspohr and others might appear quite ordinary, yet to us they had a different signification, of which Love alone held the key. Without further ado then, after the ocx;urrences of that evening, I determined on staying at Kalbsbraten, and presenting my card the next day to the Hof-Marshal, requesting to have the honor of being presented to his Highness the Prince, at one of whose court-balls my Dorothea appeared as I have described her. It was summer when I first arrived at Kalbsbraten. The little court was removed to Siegmundslust, his Mighness's countiy-seat : no balls were taking place, and, in -^onsequenc^ FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 567 I held my own with Dorothea pretty well. I treated her ad- mirer, Lieutenant Klingenspohr, with perfect scorn, had a manifest advantage over Major Schnabel, and used somehow to meet the fair one every day, walking in company with her mamma in the palace garden, or sitting under the acacias, with Belotte in her mother's lap, and the favorite romance beside her. Dear, dear Dorothea ! what a number of novels she must have read in her time ! She confessed to me that she had been in love with Uncas, with Saint Preux, with Ivanhoe, and with hosts of German heroes of romance ; and when I asked her if she, whose heart was so tender towards imaginary youths, had never had a preference for any one of her living adorers, she only looked, and blushed, and sighed, and said nothing. You see I had got on as well as man could do, until the confounded court season and the balls began, and then — why, then came my usual luck. Waltzing is a part of a German girl's life. With the best will in the world — which, I doubt not, she entertains for me, for I never put the matter of marriage directly to her — Doro- thea could not go to balls and not waltz. It was madness to me to see her whirling round the room with otficers, attaches, prim little chamberlains with gold keys and embroidered coats, her hair floating in the wind, her hand reposing upon tlie abominable little dancer's epaulet, her good-humored face lighted up with still greater satisfaction. I saw that I must learn to waltz too, and took my measures accordingly. The leader of the ballet at the Kalbsbraten theatre in my time was Springbock, from Vienna. He had been a regular Zephyr once, 'twas said, in his younger days ; and though he is now fifteen stone weight, I can, helas ! recommend him con- scientiously as a master ; and I determined to take some lessons from him in the art which I had neglected so foolishly in early life. It niay be said, without vanity, that I was an apt pupil, and in the course of half a dozen lessons I had arrived at very con- siderable agility in the waltzing line, and could twirl round the room with him at such a pace as made the old gentleman pant again, and hardly left him breath enough to puff out a compli- ment to his pupil. I may say, that in a single week I became an expert waltzer ; but as I wished, when I came out publicly in that character, to be quite sure of myself, and as I had hitherto practised not with a lady, but with a very fat old man, it was agreed that he should bring a lady of his acquaintance 568 THE FirZ- BOODLE PAPERS. to perfect me, and accordingly, at my eighth lesson, Madam« Springbock herself came to the dancing-room, and the old Zephyr performed on the violin. If any man ventures the least sneer with regard to this lady, or dares to insinuate anything disrespectful to her or myself, I say at once that he is an impudent calumniator. Madame Springbock is old enough to be my grandmother, and as ugly a woman as I ever saw ; but, though old, she vi2iSpassmmee pour la danse, and not having (on account, doubtless, of her age and un- prepossessing appearance) many opportunities for indulging in her favorite pastime, made up for lost time by immense activity whenever she could get a partner. In vain, at the end of the hour, would Springbock exclaim, " Amalia, my soul's blessing, the time is up ! " " Play on, dear Alphonso ! " would the old lady exclaim, whisking me round : and though I had not the least pleasure in such a homely partner, yet for the sake of perfecting myself, I waltzed and waltzed with her, until we were both half dead with fatigue. At the end of three weeks I could waltz as well as any man in Germany. At the end of four weeks there was a grand ball at court in honor of H. H. the Prince of Dummerland and his Princess, and theji I determined I would come out in public. I dressed myself with unusual care and splendor. My hair was curled and my mustache dyed to a nicety ; and of the four hundred gentlemen present, if the girls of Kalbsbraten did select one who wore an English hussar uniform, why should I disguise the fact ? In spite of my silence, the news had somehow got abroad, as \iews will in such small towns, — Herr von Fitz- Boodle was coming out in a waltz that evening. His Highness the Duke even made an allusion to the circumstance. When on this eventful night, I went, as usual, and made him my bow in the presentation, " Vous, monsieur," said he — " vous qui etes si jeune, devez aimer la danse." I blushed as red as my trousers, and bowing, went away. I stepped up to Dorothea. Heavens ! how beautiful she looked ! and how archly she smiled as, with a thumping heart, I asked her hand for a waltz I She took out her little mother- of-pearl dancing-book, she wrote down my name with her pen- cil : we were engaged for the fourth waltz, and till then I left her to other partners. Who says that his first waltz is not a nervous moment ? I vow I was more excited than by any duel I ever fought. I would not dance any contre-danse or galop. I repeatedly FTTZ-BOODLE'S CGNFESSTONS. r6a went to (he buffet and got glasses of punch (clear simple Ger- many ! 'tis with rum-punch and egg-flip thy children strengthen themselves for the dance !). I went into the ball-room and looked — the couples bounded before me, the music clashed and rung in my ears — all was fiery, feverish, indistinct. The gleaming white columns, the polished oaken floors in which the innumerable tapers were reflected — altogether swam before my eyes, and I was in a pitch of madness almost when the fourth waltz at length came. " Will you dance with your sword on / " said the sweetest voice in the world. I blushed, and stammered, and trembled, as I laid down that weapon and my cap, and hark ! the music began ! Oh, how my hand trembled as I placed it round the waist of Dorothea ! With my left hand I took her right — did she squeeze it ? I think she did — to this day I think she did. Away we went ! we tripped over the polished oak floor like two young fairies. " Courage, monsieur," said she, with her sweet smile. Then it was " Tres bien, monsieur." Then I heard the voices humming and buzzing about. " II danse bien, I'Anglais." " Ma foi, oui," says another. On we went, twirling and twisting, and turning and whirling; couple after couple dropped panting off. Little Klingenspohr himself was obliged to give in. All eyes were upon us — we were going round alone. Dorothea was almost exhausted, when ***** I have been sitting for two hours since I marked the aste- risks, thinking — thinking. I have committed crimes in my life — who hasn't ? But talk of remorse, what remorse is there like that which rushes up in a flood to my brain sometimes when I am alone, and causes me to blush when I'm abed in the dark ? I fell, sir, on that infernal slippery floor. Down we came like shot ; we rolled over and over in the midst of the ball-room, the music going ten miles an hour, 800 pairs of eyes fixed upon us, a cursed shriek of laughter bursting out from all sides. Heavens ! how clear I heard it, as we went on rolling and roll- ing 1^ " My child ! my Dorothea I " shrieked out Madame Speck, rushing forward, and as soon as she had breath to do so, Dorothea of course screamed too ; then she fainted, then she was disentangled from out my spurs, and borne off by a bevy of tittering women. " Clumsy brute I " said Madame Speck, turning her fat back upon me. I remained upon my seant, wild, ghastly, looking about. It was all up with me — I knew it was. I wished I could have died there, and I wish so still. Klingenspohr married her, that is the long and short ; but 57° THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. before that event I placed a sabre-cut across the young scoun* drel's nose, which destroyed his beauty forever. O Dorothea! you can't forgive me — you oughtn't to forgive me ; but I love you madly still. My next flame was Ottilia : but let us keep her for another number ; mv feelings overpower me at uresent OTTILIA. CHAPTER I. THE ALBUM — THE MEDITERRANEAN HEATH. Travelling some little time back in a wild part of Conne* mara, where I had been for fishing and seal-shooting, I had the good luck to get admission to the chateau of a hospitable Irish gentleman, and to procure some news of my once dear Ottilia. Yes, of no other than Ottilia v. Schlippenschlopp, the Muse of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel, the friendly little town far away in Sachsenland, — where old Speck built the town pump, where Klingenspohr was slashed across the nose, — where Dorothea rolled over and over in that horrible .waltz with Fitz-Boo Psha ! — away with the recollection : but wasn't it strange to get news of Ottilia in the wildest corner of Ireland, where I never should have thought to hear her gentle name ? Walking on that very Urrisbeg Mountain under whose shadow I heard Ottilia's name, Mackay, the learned author of the '' Flora Pat- landica," discovered the Mediterranean heath, — such a flower as I have often plucked on the sides of Vesuvius, and as Pros- erpine, no doubt, amused herself in gathering as she strayed in the fields of Enna. Here it is — the self-same flower, peering out at the Atlantic from Roundstone Bay ; here, too, in this wild lonely place, nestles the fragrant memory of my Ottilia ! In a word, after a day on Ballylynch Lake (where, with a brown fly and a single hair, I killed fourteen salmon, the smallest twenty-nine pounds weight, the largest somewhere about five stone ten), my young friend Blake Bodkin Lynch Browne (a fine lad who has made his continental tour) and I adjourned, after dinner, to the young gentleman's private room, for the purpose of smoking a certain cigar ; which is never more pleasant than 37 (=70 572 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. after a hard day's sport, or a day spent in-doors, or after a good dinner, or a bad one, or at night when you are tired, or in the morning when you are fresh, or of a cold winter's day, or of a scorching summer's afternoon, or at any other moment you choose to fix upon. What should I see in Blake's room but a rack of pipes, such as are to be found in almost all the bachelors' rooms in Ger- many, and amongst them was a porcelain pipe-head bearing the image of the Kalbsbraten pump ! There it was : the old spout, the old familiar allegory of Mars, Bacchus, Apollo virorum, and the rest, that I had so often looked at from Hofarchitect Speck's window, as I sat there by the side of Dorothea. The old gentle- man had given me one of these very pipes; for he had hundreds of them painted, wherewith he used to gratify almost every stranger who came into his native town. Any old place with which I have once been familiar (as, per- haps, I have before stated in these " Confessions " — but never mind that) is in some sort dear to me : and were I Lord Shoot- ingcastle or Colonel Popland, I think after a residence of six months there I should love the Fleet Prison. As I saw the old familiar pipe, I took it down, and crammed it with Cavendish tobacco, and lay down on a sofa, and puffed away for an hour wellnigh, thinking of old, old times. " You're very entertaining to-night, Fitz," says young Blake, who had made several tumblers of punch for me, which I had gulped down without saying a word. " Don't ye think ye'd be more easy in bed than snorting and sighing there on my sofa, and groaning fit to make me go hang myself? " " I am thinking, Blake," says I, "about Pumpernickel, where old Speck gave you this pipe." *' 'Deed he did," replies the young man ; " and did ye know the old ]5ar'n ? " " I did," said I. " My friend, I have been by the banks of the Bendemeer. Tell me, are the nightingales still singing there, and do the roses still bloom ? " " The hivhat ? " "cries Blake. " What the divvle, Fit-z, are you growling about 1 Bendemeer Lake's in Westmoreland, as I preshume ; and as for roses and nightingales, I give ye my word it's Greek ye're talking to me." And Greek it very possibly was, for my young friend, though as good across country as any man in his county, has not the fine feeling and tender percep- tion of beauty which may be found elsewhere, dear madam. "Tell me about Speck, Blake, and Kalbsbraten, and Dorothea, and Klingenspohr her husband."' FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 573 ** He with the cut across the nose, is it ? " cries Blake. " I know him well, and his old wife." '* His old what, sir ! " cries Fitz-Boodle, jumping up from his seat. *' Klingenspohr's wife old ! — Is he married again ? — Is Dorothea, then, d-d-dead ? " " Dead ! — no more dead than you are, only I take her to be five-and-thirty. And when a woman has had nine children, you know, she looks none the younger ; and I can tell ye, that when she trod on my corruns at a ball at the Grand Juke's, I felt something heavier than a feather on my foot." " Madame de Klingenspohr, then," replied I, hesitating somewhat, "has grown rather — rather st-st-out.?" I could hardly get out the out, and trembled I don't know why as I asked the question. " Stout, begad ! — she weighs fourteen stone, saddle and bridle. That's right, down goes my pipe ; flop ! crash falls the tumbler into the fender ! Break away, my boy, and remember, whoever breaks a glass here pays a dozen." The fact was, that the announcement of Dorothea's changed condition caused no small disturbance within me, and I expressed it in the abrupt manner mentioned by young Blake, Roused thus from my reverie, I questioned the young fellow about his residence at Kalbsbraten, which has been always since the war a favorite place for our young gentry, and heard with some satisfaction that Potzdorff was married to the Behrenstein, Haarbart had left the dragoons, the Crown Prince had broken with the , but mum ! of what interest are all these details to the reader, who has never been at friendly little Kalbs- braten t Presently Lynch reaches me down one of the three books that formed his library (the " Racing Calendar " and a book of fishing-flies making up the remainder of the set). " And there's my album," says he, "You'll find plenty of hands in it that you'll recognize, as you are an old Pumpernickelaner." And so I did, in truth : it was a little book after the fashion of Ger- man albums, in which good simple little ledger every friend or acquaintance of the owner inscribes a poem or stanza from some favorite poet or philosopher with the transcriber's own name, as thus : — " To the true house-friend, and beloved Irelaudish youth. " ' Sera nunquam est ad bonos mores via* Wackerbart, Professor nt l'"? Crand-Ducal Ka!bsb;-ate:-.-Puir;i-enackelisch C •'mnaRium.* 574 '^f^E FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. Another writes, — " ' Wander on roses nnd forget me not.' ' Amalia v. Nachtmutzk, Geb v. Schlafrock," with a flourish, and the picture mayhap of a rose. Let the reader imagine some hundreds of these interesting inscriptions, and he will have an idea of the book. Turning over the leaves I came presently on DorotJiea's hand. There it was, the little neat, pretty handwriting, the dear old up-and-down-strokes that I had not looked at for many a long year, — the Mediterranean heath, which grew on the sunniest banks of Fitz- Boodle's existence, and here found, dear, dear little sprig! in rude Galwagian bog-lands. " Look at the other side of the page," says Lynch, rather sarcastically (for I don't care to confess that I kissed the name of " Dorothea v. Klingenspohr, born v. Speck " written under an extremely feeble passage of verse.) " Look at the other side of the paper ! " I did, and what do you think I saw ? I saw the writing of five of the little Klingenspohrs, who have all sprung up since my time. * * * # # "Ha! ha! haw!" screamed the impertinent young Li sh- man, and the story was all over Connemara and Joyce's Coun- try in a day after. CHAPTER IL OTTILIA IN PARTICULAR. Some kind critic who peruses these writings will, doubtless, have the goodness to point out that the simile of the Mediter- ranean heath is applied to two personages in this chapter — to Ottilia and Dorothea, and say, Psha ! the fellow is but a poor unimaginative creature not to be able to find a simile apiece at least for the girls 3 how much better would wc have done the business! \\'ell, it is a very pretty simile. The girls were rivals, were beautiful, I loved them both. — \\hich should have the sprig of heath .-* Mr. Cruikshank (who has taken to serious painting) FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 575 is getting ready for the exhibition a fine piece, representing Fitz-Boodle on the Urrisbeg Mountain, county Galwa}', Ireland, with a sprig of heath in his hand, hesitating, like Paris, on which of the beauties he should bestow it. In the background is a certain animal between two bundles of hay ; but that I take to represent the critic, puzzled to which of my young beauties to assign the choice. If Dorothea had been as rich as Miss Coutts, and had come to me the next clay after the accident at the ball and said, " George, will you marry me ?" it must not be supposed I would have done any such thing. That At^^lVsh had vanished forever : rage and pride took the place of love ; and the only chance I had of recovering from my dreadful discomfiture was by bearing it bravely, and trying, if possible, to awaken a little compassion in my favor. I limped home (arranging my scheme with great presence of mind as I actually sat spinning there on the ground) — I limped home, sent for Pflastersticken, the court-surgeon, and addressed him to the following effect : " Pflastersticken," says I, *' there has been an accident at court of which you will hear. You will send in leeches, pills, and the deuce knows what, and you will say that I have dislocated my leg: for some days you will state that I am in considerable danger. You are a good fellow and a man of courage I know, for which very reason you can appreciate those qualities in another ; so mind, if you breathe a word of my secret, either you or I must lose a life." Away went the surgeon, and the next day all Kalbsbraten knew that I was on the point of death : I had been delirious all nighty had had eighty leeches, besides I don"'t know how much medicine ; but the Kalbsbrateners knew to a scruple. Whenever anybody was ill, this little kind society knew what medicines were prescribed. Everybody in the town knew what everybody had for dinner. If Madame Rumpel had her satin dyed ever so quietlv, the whole society was on the <]uivivc; if Countess Pultuski sent to Berlin for a new set of teeth, not a person in Kalbsbraten but what was ready to- compliment her as she put them on ; if Potzdorff paid his tailor's bill, or Muf- finstein bought a piece of black wax for his mustaches, it was the talk of the little city. And so, of course, was my accident. In their sorrow for my misfortune, Dorothea's was quite for- gotten, and those eighty leeches saved me. I became inter- esting ; I had cards left at my door ; and I kept my room for a fortnight, during which time I read every one of M. Kotze- bue's plays. 575 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. At the end of that period I was convalescent, though still a little lame. I called at old Speck's house and apologized for my clumsiness, with the most admirable coolness ; I appeared at court, and stated calmly that I did not intend to dance any more; and when Klingensphor grinned, I told that young gen- tlemen such a piece of my mind as led to his wearing a large sticking-plaster patch on his nose : which was split as neatly down the middle as you would split an orange at dessert. In a word, what man could do to repair my defeat, I did. There is but one thing now of which I am ashamed — of those killing epigrams which I wrote {moji Dieu f must I own it ? — ^but even the fury of my anger proves the extent of my love !) against the Speck family. They were handed about ia confidence at court, and made a frightful sensation : " Is it passible f " Tliere happened at Schloss P-mp-rn-ckel, A strange mishap our sides to tickle. And set the people in a roar ; — A strange caprice of Fortune fickle j I never thmiglit at Pumpeniickel To see a S p-eck upon theficurr I " *' La Perfide AlMon ; or, a Caution to Walxiers» " ' Come to the dance/ the Briton said. And forward D-r-th-a led. Fair, fresh, and three-and-twenty ! Ah, girls, beware of Britons red! What wonder that it tvr-ned her head? Sat verbum sapibnti." " Reasons Jar not Marryifig.. ♦' ' The lovely Miss S. Will sarely say " yes," You've only to ask and try j' 'That subject we'll quit,' Says Georgy the wit, ^ I've a ntiick letter Spec in my eye '. " This last epigram especially was voted so killing that it flew lik'i wildfire ; and I know for a fact that our Charge-d'Affaires at Kalbsbraten sent a courier express with it to the Foreign Office in England, whence, through our amiable Foreign Secre- tary, Lord P-lm-rston, it made its way into every fashionable circle : nay, I have reason to believe caused a smile on the cheek of R-y-lty itself. Now that Time has taken away the sting of these epigrams, there can be no harm in giving them ; and 'twas well enough to endeavor to hide under the lash of wit the bitter pangs of humiliation : but my heart bleeds now to think that T should have ever brought a tear on the gentle cheek ol Dorothea, FITZ-DOODLE 'S CONFESSIONS. r 7 7 Not content with this — with humiliating her by satire, and with wounding her accejDted lover across the nose — I deter- mined to carry my revenge still farther, and to fall in love with somebody else. This person was Ottilia v. Schlippenschlopp. Otho Sigismund Freyherr von Schlippenschlopp, Knight Grand Cross of the Ducal Order of the Two-Necked Swan of Pumpernickel, of the Porc-et-Siflet of Kalbsbraten, Commander of the George and Blue-Boar of Dummerland, Excellency, and High Chancellor of the United Duchies, lived in the second floor of a house in the Schwapsgasse ; where, with his private income and his revenues as Chancellor, amounting together to 300/. per annum, he maintained such a state as very few other officers of the Grand Ducal Crown could exhibit. The Baron is married to Maria Antoinetta, a Countess of the house of Kartoffelstadt, branches of which have taken root all over Ger- many. He has no sons, and but one daughter, the Fraulein Ottilia. The Chancellor is a worthy old gentleman, too fat and wheezy to preside at the Privy Council, fond of his pipe, his ease, and his rubber. His lady is a very tall and pale Roman- nosed Countess, who looks as gentle as Mrs. Robert Roy, where, in the novel, she is for putting Baillie Nicol Jarvie into the lake, and who keeps the honest Chancellor in the greatest order. The Fraulein Ottilia had not arived at Kalbsbraten when the little affair between me and Dorothea was going on ; or rather had only just come in for the conclusion of it, being presented for the first time that year at the ball where I — where I met with my accident. At the time when the Countess was young, it was not the fashion in her country to educate the young ladies so highly as since they have been educated ; and provided they could waltz, sew, and make pudding, they were thought to be decently bred ; being seldom called upon for algebra or Sanscrit in the dis- charge of the honest duties of their lives. But Fraulein Ot- tilia was of the modern school in this respect, and came back from \\(tx pension at Strasburg speaking all the languages, dab- bling in all the sciences ; an historian, a poet, — a blue of the ultramarinest sort, in a word. What a difference there was, for instance, between poor, simple Dorothea's love of novel- reading and the profound encyclopcedic learning of Ottilia ! Before the latter arrived from Strasburg (where she had been under the careof her aunt the canoness. Countess Ottilia of Kartoffelstadt, to whom I here beg to offer my humblest respects), Dorothea had passed for a bd esprit in the littl« 578 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. court circle, and her little simple stock of accomplishments had amused us all very well. She used to sing " Herz, mein Herz " and " T'en souviens-tu," in a decent manner {puce, be- fore heaven, I thought her singing better than Grisi's), and then she had a little album in which she drew flowers, and used to embroider slippers wonderfully, and was very merry at a game of loto or forfeits, and had a hundred small agrcmcns de socicte which rendered her an acceptable member of it. But when Ottilia arrived, poor Dolly's reputation was crushed in a month. The former wrote poems both in French and German ; she painted landscapes and portraits in real oil; and she twanged off a rattling piece of Listz or Kalkbrenner \y\ such a brilliant way, that Dora scarcely dared to touch the iiNstrument after her, or venture, after Ottilia had trilled and gurgled through " Una voce," or " Di piacer " (Rossini was in fashion then), to lift up her little modest pipe in a ballad. What was the use of the poor thing going to sit in the park where so many of the young officers used ever to gather round her ? Whirr ! Ottilia went by galloping on a chestnut mare with a groom after her, and presently all the young fellows who could buy or hire horseflesh were prancing in her train. When they met, Ottilia would bounce towards her soul's darling, and put her hands round her waist, and call her by a thousand affectionate names, and then talk of her as only ladies or authors can talk of one another. How tenderly she would hint at Dora's little imperfections of education ! — how cleverly she would insinuate that the poor girl had no wit ! and, thank God, no more she had. The fact is, that do what I will I see I'm in love with her still, and would be if she had fifty chil- dren ; but my passion blinded me then, and every arrow that fiery Ottilia discharged I marked with savage joy. Dolly, thank heaven, didn't mind the wit much \ she was too simple for that. But still the recurrence of it would leave in her heart a vague, indefinite feeling of pain, and somehow she began to understand that her empire was passing away, and that her dear friend hated her like poison ; and so she married Klingenspohr. I have written myself almost into a reconcilia- tion with the silly fellow ; for the truth is, he has been a good, honest husband to her, and she has children, and makes pud- dings, and is happy. Ottilia was pale and delicate. She wore her glistening black hair in bands, and dressed in vapory white muslin. She sang her own words to her harp, and they commonly insinu- ated that she was alone in the world, — that she suffered some FITZ-BOODLE 'S CONCESSIONS. 579 inexpressible and mysterious heart-pangs, the lot of all fine: geniuses, — that though she lived and moved in the world she was not of it, — that she was of a consumptive tendency and might look for a premature interment. She even had fixed on the spot where she should lie : the violets grew there, she said, the river went moaning by ; the gray willow whispered sadly over her head, and her heart pined to be at rest, "Mother," she would say, turning to her parent, "promise me — promise me to lay me in that spot when the parting hour has come ! " At which Madame de Schlippenschlopp would shriek, and grasp her in her arms ; and at which, I confess, I would myself blub' ber like a child. She had six darling friends at school, and every courier from Kalbsbraten carried off whole reams of her letter-paper. In Kalbsbraten, as in every other German town, there are a vast number of literary characters, of whom our young friend quickly became the chief. They set up a literary journal, which appeared once a week, upon light-blue or primrose paper, and which, in compliment to the lovely Ottilia's maternal name, was called the Ka?ioffcJnkranz. Here are a couple of her ballads extracted from the Kranz, and by far the most cheerful specimen of her style. For in her songs she never would will- ingly let off the heroines without a suicide or a consumption. She never would hear of such a thing as a happy marriage, and had an appetite for grief quite amazing in so young a per- son. As for her dying and desiring to be buried under the willow-tree, of which the first ballad is the subject, though I believed the story then, I have at present some doubts about it. For, since the publication of my Memoirs, I have been thrown much into the society of literary persons (who admire my style hugely), and egad ! though some of them are dismal enough in their works, I find them in their persons the least sentimental class that ever a gentleman fell in vvith. " THE WILLOW-TREE. " Know ye the willow-tree Whose gray leaves quiver, Whispering gloomily To yon pale river ? Lady, at even-tide Wander not near it : They say its branches hide A sad, lost spirit ! " Once to the willow-tree A maid came fearful, Vale seemed her cheek to be, Her blue eye tearful ; Soon as she saw the tree, Her step moved fleeter. No one was there — ah me 1 No one to meet her! " Quick beat her heart to hear The far bell's chime Toll from the chapel-tower The trysting time ; But the red sun went down In golden flame, And though she looked round, Vet no one came ! 58o THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. " Presently came the night, Sadly to greet her, — Moon in her silver light, Stars in their glitter. " Then sank the moon away Under the billow, Still wept the maid alone — There by the willow ! " Tlirough the long darkness, By the stream rolling, Hour after hour went on Tolling and tolling. Long was the darkness, Lonely and stilly ; Shrill came the night wind. Piercing and chilly. " Shrill blew the morning breeze, Biting and cold, Bleak peers the gray dawn Over the wold. Bleak over moor and stream Looks the gray dawn, Gray, with dishevelled hair, Still stands the willow there — The maid is gone! " Doiniite, Doinine ! Sine^ we a litajiy, — Sittf^ for poor maiden-hearts brokcti ani nveiiry ; Dow.iiie, Doinhie ! Shii^ lue ii litany, Wail we atid iveep -we a wild Miserere I " One of the chief beauties of this ballad (for the translation of which I received some well-merited compliments) is the delicate way in which the suicide of the poor young woman under the willow-tree is hinted at ; for that she threw herself into the water and became one among the lilies of the stream, is as clear as a pikestaff. Her suicide is committed some time in the darkness, when the slow hours move on tolling and tolling, and is hinted at darkly as befits the time and the deed. But that unromantic brute, Van Cutsem, the Dutch Chargd- d'Affaires, sent to the Kartoffdnkranz of the week after a con- clusion of the ballad, which shows what a poor creature he must be. His pretext for writing it was, he said, because he could not bear such melancholy endings to poems and young women, and therefore he submitted the following lines : — " Long by the willow-trees Vainly they sought her, Wild rang the mother's screams O'er the gray water : 'Where is my lovely one ? Where is my daughter? II. " ' Rouse thee, Sir Constable — House thee and look ; Fisherman, bring your net, Boatman, your hook. Beat in the lily-beds, Dive in the brook ! ' III. ' Vainly the constable Shouted and called her ; Vainly the fisherman Beat the green alder ; Vainly lie flung tlie net, Never it hauled lier I " Mother, beside the f.re Sat, her nightcap in J Father, in easy-chair, Gloomily napping ; When at the winduw-sill Came a light tapping 1 " And a pale countenance Looked through the casement. Loud beat the mother's heart, Sick with amazement ; And at the vision, which Came to surprise her. Shrieked in an agony — ' Lor'! it's Elizarl' Yes, 'twas Elizabeth — Yes, 'twas their girl ; Pale was her cheek, and her Hair out of curl. 'Mother! ' the loving one, Blushing, exclaimed, ' Let not your innocent Lizzy be blamed. FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS, S8i •Yesterday, going to aunt Joneses to tea. Mother, dear mother, I For^^et the door-key ! And as the night was cold, And the way steep, Mrs. Jones kept me to Breakfast and sleep. ' Whether her Pa and Ma Fully belieced her. That we shall never know-: Stern tUey received her ; And for the work of that Cruel, tliough short, night. Sent her to bed without Tea for a fortnight- ■* MORAU ffey diddle diddleiy. Cat and the Fiddlcty, Maidens of J£ ngland take caulIoH if sAeJ Let leve -and suicide Never tempt you aside-. And ahaays reineiulier to tai^ i)tt -door-key J " Some people laughed at this parody, and even preferred it to the original ; but for myself I have no patience with the in- dividual who can turn the finest sentiments of our nature into ridicule, and make everything sacred a subject of scorn. The next ballad is iess gloomy than that of the willow-tree, and in it the lovely writer expresses her longing for what has charmed us all, and as it were, squeezes the whole spirit of the fairy tale into a few stanzas : — ^' FAIRY DAYS. *' Beside the old hall-fire — upon nay nurse's knee. Of happy fairy days — what tales were told to rael I thought tlie world was once — all peopled with princesses, And rny lieart would beat to hear— their loves and their distresses; And many a cjuiet night, — in slumber sweet and deep, Tlie pretty fairy people — would visit me ip. sleci^. '« I saw them in my dreams — come flying «ast and west. With wondrous fairy gifts— the new born babe they bless'd ; One has brought a jewel — and one a crown of gold, And one has brouglit a curse— but slie is wrinkled and old. The gentle queen lurns pale — to hear those words of sin. But the king he only laughs — and bids the dance begin. "The babe has grown to be — the fairest of the land And rides the forest green — a hawk upon her hand. An ambling palfrey white — a golden robe and crown ; I've seen her in my dreams — ridnig up and down ; And heard tl;e ogre laugh — as she tell into his snare. At the little tender creature — who wept and tore her hair! " But ever when it seemed — her need was at the sorest A prince in shining mail — con-.es prancing through the forest. A waving ostrich-plume — a buckler burnished bright ; I've seen him in my dreams— good sooth! a gallant knight. His lips are coral red — beneath a dark mustache ; See how he waves his hand — and how his blue eyes flash! " ' Come forth, thou Paynim knight ! '—he shouts in accents clear The giant and the maid — both tremble his voice to hear. Saint Mary guard him well ! — he draws his falchion keen, The giant and the knight — are fighting on the green. I see them in my dreams — his l)lade gives stroke on stroke. The giant pants and reels — and tumbles like an oak ! 582 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS, " With what a bliEsbing grace — he falls npon his knee And takes- the lady's hand — and whispers, ' You are free J ' Ah ! liappy childish tales — of knight and faerie f I waken from niy dreams — but there's ne'er a knight for me j 1 waken from my dreams — and wish that I could be A child by the oltl hall-tire — upon my nurse's knee." Indeed, Ottilia looked like a fairy herself : pale, small, slim, and airy. You could not see her face, as it were, for her eyes, which were so wild, and so tender, and shone so that they would have dazzled an eagle, much more a poor goose of a Fitz-Boodle. In the theatre, when she sat on the opposite side of the house, those big eyes used to pursue me as I sat pretend- ing to listen to the " Zauberflote/' or to " Don Carlos," or '^ Egraont," and at the tender passages, especially, they would have such a winning, weeping, imploring look with them as flesh and blood could not bear. Shall I tell how I became a poet for the dear girl's sake ? Tis surely unnecessary after the reader has perused the above versions of her poems. Shall I tell what wild follies I com- mitted in prose as well as in verse ? how I used to watch under her window of icy evenings, and with chilblainy fingers sing serenades to her on the guitar ? Shall I tell how, in a sledging- party, I had the happiness to drive her, and of the delightful privilege which is, on these occasions, accorded to the driver ? Any reader who has spent a winter in Germany perhaps knows it. A large party of a score or more of sledges is formed. Away they go to some pleasure-house that has been previously fixed upon, where a ball and collation are prepared, and where each man, as his partner descends, has the delicious privilege of saluting her. O heavens and earth S I may grow to be a thousand years old, but I can never forget the rapture of that salute. "The keen air has given me an appetite," said the dear angel, as we entered the supper-room ; and to say the truth, fairy as she was, she made a remarkably good meal — consuming a couple of basins of white soup, several kinds of German sausages, some Westphalia ham, some white puddings, an anchovy-salad made with cornichons and onions, sweets in- numerable, and a considerable quantity of old Steinwein and rum-punch afterwards. Then she got up and danced as brisk as a fairy ; in which operation I of course did not follow her, but had the honor, at the close of the evening's amusement, once more to have her by my side in the sledge, as we swept in the moonlight over the snow. Kalbsbraten is a very hospitable place as far as tea-parties FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 583 are concerned, but I never was in one where dinners were so scarce. At the palace they occurred twice or thrice in a month ; but on these occasions spinsters were not invited, and I seldom had the opportunity of seeing my Ottilia except at evening- parties. Nor are these, if the trutli must be told, very much to my taste. Dancing I have forsworn, whist is too severe a study for me, and I do not like to play e'carte with old ladies, who are sure to cheat you in the course of an evening's play. But to have an occasional glance at Ottilia was enough ; and many and many a napoleon did I lose to her mamma, Madame de Schlippenschlopp, for the blest privilege of looking at her daughter. Many is the tea-party I went to, shivering into cold clothes after dinner (which is my abomination) in order to have one little look at the lady of my soul. At these parties there were generally refreshments of a nature more substantial than mere tea — punch, both milk and rum, hot wine, consomme, and a peculiar and exceedingly dis- agreeable sandwich made of a mixture of cold white puddings and garlic, of which I have forgotten the name, and always detested the savor. Gradually a conviction came upon me that Ottilia ate a great deal. I do not dislike to see a woman eat comfortably. I even think that an agreeable woman ought to hefriande, and should love certain little dishes and knicknacks. I know that though at dinner they commonly take nothing, they have had roast- mutton with the children at two, and laugh at their pretensions to starvation. No ! a woman who eats a grain of rice, like Amina in the "Arabian Nights," is absurd and unnatural; but there is a modus in rebus : there is no reason why she should be a ghoul, a monster, an ogress, a horrid gormandizeress — faugh ! It was, then, with a rage amounting almost to agony, that I found Ottilia ate too much at every meal. She was always eating, and always eating too much. If I went there in the morning, there was the horrid familiar odor of those oniony sandwiches ; if in the afternoon, dinner had been just removed, and I was choked by reeking reminiscences of roast-meat. Tea we have spoken of. She gobbled up more cakes than any six people present ; then came the supper and the sandwiches again, and the egg-flip and the horrible rum-punch. She was as thin as ever — paler if possible than ever : — but, by heavens ! her nose began to grow red ! 584 ^-^^ FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. Moil Dieu ! how I used to watch and watch it ! Some days it was purple, some days had more of the vermilion — I could take an affidavit that after a heavy night's supper it was more swollen, more red than before. I recollect one night when we were playing a round game (I had been looking at her nose very eagerly and sadly for some time), she of herself brought up the conversation about eating, and confessed that she had five meals a day. " That accounts for it ! " says I, flinging down the cards, and springing up and rushing like a madman out of the room. I rushed away into the night, and wrestled with my passion. " What ! Mary," said I, " a woman who eats meat twenty-one times in a week, besides breakfast and tea ? Mary a sarcopha- gus, a cannibal, a butcher's shop ? — Away ! " I strove and strove. I drank, I groaned, I wrestled and fought with my love — but it overcame me : one look of those eyes brought me to her feet again. I yielded myself up like a slave \ I fawned and whined for her ; I thought her nose was not so very red. Things came to this pitch that I sounded his Highness's Minister to know whether he would give me service in the Duchy ; I thought of purchasing an estate there. I was given to understand that I should get a chamberlain's key and some post of honor did I choose to remain, and I even wrote home to my brother Tom in England, hinting a change in my condition. At this juncture the town of Hamburg sent his Highness the Grand Duke {a propos of a commercial union which was pending between the two States) a sii»gular present : no less than a certain number of barrels of oysters, which are con- sidered extreme luxuries in Germany, especially in the inland parts of the country, where they are almost unknown. In honor of the oysters and the new commercial treaty (which arrived in fowgons despatched for the purpose), his Highness announced a grand supper and ball, and invited all the quality of all the principalities round about. It was a splendid affair : the grand saloon brilliant with hundreds of uniforms and brilliant toilettes — not the least beautiful among them, I need not say, was Ottilia. At midnight the supper-rooms were thrown open, and we formed into little parties of six, each having a table, nobly served with plate, a lackey in attendance, and a gratifying ice- pail or two of champagne to egayer the supper. It was no small cost to serve five hundred people on silver, and the re- past was certainly a princely and magnificent one. FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 585 I had, of course, arranged with Mademoiselle de Schlippen- schlopp. Captains Frumpel and Fridelberger of the Duke's Guard, Mesdames de Eutterbrod and Bopp, formed our Uttle party. The first course, of course, consisted of the oysters. OttiHa's eyes gleamed with double brilliancy as the lackey opened them. There were nine apiece for us — how well I recollect the number ! I never was much of an oyster-eater, nor can I relish them ;« natnralibus as some do, but require a quantity of sauces, lemons, cayenne peppers, iDread and butter, and so forth, 'to render them palatable. By the time I had made my preparations, Ottilia, the Cap- tains, and the two ladies, had wellnigh finished theirs. In- deed Ottilia had gobbled up all hers, and there were only my nine left m the dish. I took one — it was bad. The scent of it was enough, — they were all bad. Ottilia had eaten nine bad oysters, I put down the horrid shell. Her eyes glistened more and more ; she could not take them off the tray. " Dear Herr George," she said, " will you give me your oysters ? " * * She had them all down — before — I could say — Jack — Robinson I * # # * * I left Kalbsbraten that night, and have never been there since. * * * * * * * # all down — before — I could sa\ FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. BEING APPEALS TO THE UNEMPLOYED YOUNGER SONS OF THE NOBILITY. FIRST PROFESSION. The fair and honest proposition in which I offered to com- municate privately with parents and guardians, relative to two new and lucrative professions which I had discovered, has, I find from the publisher, elicited not one single inquiry from those personages, who I can't but think are very little careful of their children's welfare to allow such a chance to be thrown away. It is not for myself I speak, as my conscience proudly tells me ; for though I actually gave up Ascot in order to be in the way should any father of a family be inclined to treat with me regarding my discoveries, yet I am grieved, not on my own account, but on theirs, and for the wretched penny-wise policy ihat has held them back. That they must feel an interest in my announcement is un- questionable. Look at the way in which the public prints of all parties have noticed my appearance in the character of a literary man ! Putting aside my personal narrative, look at the ■offer I made to the nation, — a choice of no less than two new professions ! Suppose I had invented as many new kinds of butcher's-meat ; does any one pretend that the world, tired as it is of the perpetual recurrence of beef, mutton, veal, cold beef, cold veal, cold mutton, hashed ditto, would not have jumped eagerly at the delightful intelligence that their old, stale, stupid meals were about to be varied at last ? Of course people would have come forward. I should have had deputations from Mr. Gibletts and the fashionable butch (5S6) FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 587 ers of this world ; petitions would have poured in from Wbite- chapel salesmen ; the speculators panting to know the dis- covery ; the cautious with stock in hand eager to bribe me to silence and prevent the certain depreciation of the goods which they already possessed. I should have dealt with them, not greedily or rapaciously, but on honest principles of fair barter. "Gentlemen," I should have said, or rather, "Gents" — which affectionate diminutive is, I am given to understand, at present much in use among commercial persons — " Gents, my re- searches, my genius, or my good fortune, have brought me to the valuable discovery about which you are come to treat. Will you purchase it outright, or will you give the discov- erer an honest share of the profits resulting from your specu- lation ? My position in the world puts me out of the power of executing the vast plan I have formed, but 'twill be a certain fortune to him who engages in it ; and why should not I, too, participate in that fortune ? " Such would have been my manner of dealing with the world, too, with regard to my discovery of the new professions. Does not the world want new professions ? Are there not thousands of well-educated men panting, struggling, pushing, starving, in the old ones ? Grim tenants of chambers looking out for at- torneys who never come ? — wretched physicians practising the stale joke of being called out of church until people no longer think fit even to laugh or to pity ? Are there not hoary-headed midshipmen, antique ensigns growing mouldy upon fifty years' half-pay ? Nay, are there not men who would pay anything to be employed rather than remain idle ? But such is the glut of professionals, the horrible cutthroat competition among them, that there is no chance for one in a thousand, be he ever so willing, or brave, or clever : in the great ocean of life he makes a few strokes, and puffs, and sputters, and sinks, and the in- numerable waves overwhelm him and he is heard of no more. Walking to my banker's t'other day — and I pledge my sacred honor this story is true — I met a young fellow whom I had known attache to an embassy abroad, a young man of toler- able parts, unwearied patience, with some fortune too, and, moreover, allied to a noble Whig family, whose interest had procured him his appointment to the legation at Kriihwinkel, Avhere I knew him. He remained for ten years a diplomatic character ; he was the workingman of the legation : he sent over the most diffuse translations of the German pajiers for the use of the Foreign Secretary : he signed passports with most astonishing ardor ; he exiled himself for ten long years in a o ^88 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. wretched German town, dancing attendance at court-balls and paying no end of money for uniforms. And for what ? At the end of the ten years — during whicli period of labor he nevei received a single shilling from the Government which employed him (rascally spendthrift of a Government, va!), — he was offered the paid attacheship to the court of H. M, the King of the Mosquito Islands, and refused that appointment a week before the Whig Ministry retired. Then he knew that there was no further chance for him, and incontinently quitted the diplomatic service forever, and I liave no doubt will sell his uniform a bargain. The Government had hitn a bargain cer- tainly ; nor is he by any means the first person who has been sold at that price. Well, my worthy friend met me in the street and informed me of these facts with a smiling countenance, — which I thought a masterpiece of diplomacy. Fortune had been belaboring and kicking him for ten whole years, and here he was grinning in my face : could Monsieur de Talleyrand have acted better .■* " I have given up diplomacy," said Protocol, quite simply and good-humoredly, " for between you and me, my good fellow, it's a very slow profession ; sure perhaps, but slow. But though I gained no actual pecuniary remuneration in the service, I have learned all the languages in Europe, which will be invaluable to me in my new profession — the mercantile one — in which directly I looked out for a post I found one." " What ! and a good pay .-' " said I. " Why, no ; that's absurd, you know. No young men, strangers to business, are paid much to speak of. Besides, I don't look to a paltry clerk's pay. Some day, when thoroughly acquainted with the business (I shall learn it in about seven years), I shall go into a good house with my capital and become junior partner." " And meanwhile .-' " " Meanwhile I conduct the foreign correspondence of the eminent house of Jam, Ram, and Johnson ; and very heavy it is, I can tell you. From nine till six every day, except foreign post days, and then from nine till eleven. Dirty dark court to sit in ; snobs to talk to, — great change, as you may fancy." "And you do all this for nothing?" " I do it to learn the business." And so saying Protocol gave me a knowing nod and went his way. Good heavens ! I thought, and is ll)is a true story ? Are there hundreds of young men in a similar situation at the present day, giving away the best years of their youth for the FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS, 589 sake of a mere windy hope of something in old age, and dying before they come to the goal ? In seven years he hopes to have a business, and then to have the pleasure of risking his money ? He will be admitted into some great house as a particular favor, and three months after the house will fail. Has it not happened to a thousand of our acquaintance ? I thought I would run after him and tell him about the new professions that I have invented. " Oh ! ay ! those you wrote about in Fraser's Magazine. Egad ! George, Necessity makes strange fellows of us all. Who would ever have thought of you spelling, much more writing ? " " Never mind that. Will you, if I tell you of a new profes- sion that, with a little cleverness and instruction from me, you may bring to a most successful end — will you, I say, make me a fair return ? " " My dear creature," replied young Protocol, "what non- sense you talk ! I saw that very humbug in the Magazine. You say you have made a great discovery — very good ; you puff your discovery — very right ; you ask money for it — nothing can be more reasonable ; and then you say that you intend to make your discovery public in the next number of the Magazine. Do you think I will be such a fool as to give you money for a thing which I can have next month for nothing ? Good-by, George my boy ; the next discovery you make I'll tell you how to get a better price for it." And with this the fellow walked off, looking supremely knowing and clever. This tale of the person I hav^e called Protocol is not told without a purpose, you may be sure. In the first place, it shows what are the reasons that nobody has made application to me concerning the new professions, namely, because I have passed my word to make them known in this Magazine, which persons may have for the purchasing, stealing, borrowing, or hiring, and, therefore, they will never think of applying per- sonally to me. And, secondly, his story proves also my asser- tion, viz. : that all professions are most cruelly crowded at present, and that men will make the most absurd outlay and sacrifices for the smallest chance of success at some future period. Well, then, I will be a benefactor to my race, if I cannot be to one single member of it, whom I love better than most men. What I have discovered I will make known ; there shall be no shilly-shallying work here, no circumlocution, no bottle-conjuring business. Rut oh ! I wish for all our sakes that I had an opportunity to impart the secret to one or two 59° THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. persons only ; for, after all, but one or two can live in the manner I would suggest. And when the discovery is made known, I am sure ten thousand will try. The rascals ! I can see their brass-plates gleaming over scores of doors. Com- petition will ruin my professions, as it has all others. It must be premised that the two professions are intended for gentlemen, and gentlemen only — men of'birth and education. No others could support the parts which they will be called upon to play. And, likewise, it must be honestly confessed that these professions have, to a certain degree, been exercised before. Do not cry out at this and say it is no discovery ! I say it is a discovery. It is a discovery if I show you — a gentleman — a profession which you may exercise without derogation, or loss of standing, with certain profit, nay, possibly with honor, and of which, until the reading of the present page, you never thought but as of a calling beneath your rank and quite below your reach. Sir, I do not mean to say that I create a profession. I cannot create gold ; but if, when discovered, I find the means of putting it in your pocket, do I or do I not deserve credit? I see you sneer contemptuously when I mention to you the word Auctioneer. " Is this all," you say, " that this fellow brags and prates about .-' An auctioneer, forsooth ! he might as well have ' invented ' chimney-sweeping ? " No such thing. A little boy of seven, be he ever so low of birth, can do this as well as you. Do you suppose that little stolen Master Montague made a better sweeper than the lowest- bred chummy that yearly commemorates his release ? No, sir. And he might have been ever so much a genius or a gentleman, and not have been able to make his trade respectable. But all such trades as can be rendered decent the aristocracy has adopted one by one. At first they followed the profession of arms, flouting all others as unworthy, and thinking it un- gentlemanlike to know how to read or write. They did not go into the church in very early days, till the money to be got from the church was strong enough to tempt them. It is but of later years that they have condescended to go to the bar, and since the same time only that we see some of them follow- ing trades, I know an English lord's son who is, or was, a wine-merchant (he may have been a bankrupt for what I know). As for bankers, several partners in banking-houses have four balls to their coronets, and I have no doubt that another sort of banking, viz. : that practised by gentlemen who lend small sums of money upon deposited securities, will be one day FITZ-BOODLE^S PROFESSIONS, cgi followed by the noble order, so that they may have four balls on their coronets and carriages, and three in front of their shops. Yes, the nobles come peoplewards as the people, on the other hand, rise and mingle with the nobles. With the pkbs^ of course, Fitz-Boodle, in whose veins flows the blood of a thousand kings, can have nothing to do ; but, watching the progress of the world, 'tis impossible to deny that the good old days of our race are passed away. We want money still as much as ever we did \ but we cannot go down from our castles with horse and sword and waylay fat merchants — no, no, coun- founded new policemen and the assize-courts prevent that. Younger brothers cannot be pages to noble houses, as of old they were, serving gentle dames without disgrace, handing my lord's rose-water to w^sh, or holding his stirrup as he mounted for the chase. A page, forsooth ! A pretty ifigure would George Fitz-Boodle or any other man of fashion cut, in a jacket covered with sugar-loafed buttons, and handing in penny-post notes on a silver tray. The plebs have robbed us of thai trade among others ; nor, I confess, do I much grudge them their irouv-aiUe. Neither can we collect together a few scores of free lances, like honest Hugh Calverly in the Black Prince's time, or brave Harry Butler of Wallenstein's dragoons, and serve this or that prince, Peter the Cruel or Henry of Trastamare, Gustavus or the Emperor, at ouf leisure ; or, in default of service, fight and rob on our own gallant account, as the good gentlemen of old did. Alas 1 no. In South America or Texas, perhaps, a man might have a chance that way ; but in the ancient world no man can fight except in the king's service (and a mighty bad service that is too), and the lowest European. so\-ereign, were it Baldomero Espartero himself, would think nothing of seizing the best-born condottiere that ever drew sword, and shooting him down like the vulgarest deserter. Wliat, then, is to be done ? We must discover fresh fields of enterprise — of i:)eaceable and commercial enterprise in a peaceful and commercial age. I say, then, that the auctioneer's pulpit has never yet been ascended by a scion of the aristoc- rac}', and am prepared to prove that they might scale it, and do so with dignity and profit. For the auctioneer's pulpit is just the peculiar place where a man of social refinement, of elegant wit, of polite perceptions, can bring his wit, his eloquence, his taste, and his experience of life, most delightfully into play. It is not like the bar, where the better and higher qualities of a man of fashion find no room S9^ THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. for exercise. In defending John Jorrocks in an action of tres- pass, for cutting down a stick in Sam Snooks's fields what powers of mind do you require ? — -powers of mind, that is, which Mr. Serjeant Snorter, a butcher's son with a great loud voice, a sizar at Cambridge, a wrangler, and so forth, does not possess as well as yourself ? Snorter has never been in decent society in his life. He thinks the bar-mess the most fashion- able assemblage in Europe, and the jokes of ''grand day " the ne phcs ultra of wit. Snorter lives near Russell Square, eats beef and Yorkshire-pudding, is a judge of poit-wine, is in all social respects your inferior. Well, it is ten to one but in the case of Snooks v. Jorrocks, before mentioned, he will be a better advocate than you ; he knows the law of the case entirely, and better probably than you. He can s^3eak long, loud, to the point, grammatically — more grammatically than you, no doubt, will condescend to do. In the case of Snooks v, Jorrocks he is all that can be desired. And so about dry disputes, respect- ing real proj>erty, he knows the law ; and, beyond this, has no more need to be a gentleman than my body-sen'ant has — who, by the way, from constant intercourse with the best society, is almost a gentleman. But this is apart from the question. Now, in the matter of auctioneering, this, I apprehend, is not the case, and I assert that a high-bred gentleman, with good powers of mind and speech, must, in such a profession, make a fortune. I do not mean in all auctioneering matters. I do not mean that such a person should be called upon to sell the good-will of a public-house, or discourse about the value of the beer-barrels, or bars with pewter fittings, or the beauty of a trade doing a stroke of so many hogsheads a w^eek, I do not ask a gentleman to go down and sell pigs, ploughs, and cart- horses, at Stoke Pogis ; or to enlarge at the Auction-Rooms, Wapping, upon the beauty of the " Lively Sally " schooner. These articles of commerce or use can be better appreciated by persons in a different rank of life to his. But there are a thousand cases in which a gentleman only can do justice to the sale of objects which the necessity or convenience of the genteel world may require to change hands. All articles properly called of taste should be put under his charge. Pictures, — he is a travelled man, has seen and judged the best galleries of Europe, and can speak of them as a com- mon person cannot. For, mark you, you must have the con- fidence of your society, you must be able to be familiar with them, to plant a happy mot in a graceful manner, to appeal to my lord or the duchess in such a modest, easy, pleasant way as FITZ-DOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 593 that her grace should not be hurt by your alhision to her — nay, amused (Uke the rest of the company) by the manner in which it was done. What is more disgusting than the famiUarity of a snob ? What more loathsome than the swaggering quackery of some present holders of the hammer ? There was a late sale, for instance, which made some noise in the world (I mean the late Lord Gimcrack's, at Bilberry Hill). Ah ! what an opportunity was lost there ! I declare solemnly that I believe, but for the absurd quackery and braggadocio of the advertisements, much more money would have been bid ; people were kept away by the vulgar trumpeting of the auctioneer, and could not help thinking the things were worthless that were so outrageously lauded. The}'- say that sort of Bartholomew-fair advocacy (in which people are invited to an entertainment by the medium of a hoarse yelling beef-eater, twenty-four drums, and a jack-pudding turning head over heels) is absolutely necessary to excite the public attention. What an error! I say that the refined indi- vidual so accosted is more likely to close his ears, and, shud- dering, run away from the booth. Poor Horace Waddlepoodle ! to think that thy gentle accumulation of bric-a-brac should have passed away in such a manner! by means of a man who brings down a butterfly with a blunderbuss, and talks of a pin's head through a speaking-trumpet ! Why, the auctioneer's very voice was enough to crack the Sevres porcelain and blow the lace into annihilation. Let it be remembered that I speak of the gentleman in his public character merely, meaning to insinuate nothing more than I would by stating that Lord Brougham speaks with a northern accent, or that the voice of Mr. Shell is sometimes unpleasantly shrill. Now the character I have formed to myself of a great auctioneer is this. I fancy him a man of first-rate and irre- proachable birth and fashion. I fancy his person so agreeable that it must be a pleasure for ladies to behold and tailors to dress it. As a private man he must move in the very best society, which will flock round his pulpit when he mounts it in his public calling. It will be a privilege for vulgar people to attend the hall where he lectures ; and they will consider it an honor to be allowed to pay their money for articles the value of which is stamped by his high recommendation. Nor can such a person be a mere fribble ; nor can any loose hanger-on of fashion imagine he may assume the character. The gentle- man auctioneer must be an artist above all, adoring his profes- 5^4 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. sion ; and adoring it, what must he not know ? He must havb a good l<.nowledge of the history and language of all nations ; not the knowledge of the mere critical scholar, but of the lively and elegant man of the world. He will not commit the gross blunders of pronunciation that untravelled Englishmen peri e rate ; he will not degrade his subject by coarse eulogy, or sicken his audience with vulgar banter. He will know where to apply praise and wit properly ; he will have the tact only acquired in good society, and know where a joke is in place, and how far a compliment may go. He will not out- rageously and indiscriminately laud all objects committed to his charge, for he knows the value of praise ; that diamonds, could we have them by the bushel, would be used as coals ; that, above all, he has a character of sincerity to support ; that he is not merely the advocate of the person who employs him, but that the public is his client too, who honors him and con- fides in him. Ask him to sell a copy of Raffaelle for an original ; a trumpery modern Brussels counterfeit for real old Mechlin ; some common French forged crockery for the old delightful, delicate, Dresden china; and he will quit you with scorn, or order his servant to show you the door of his study. Study, by the way,— no, "study" is a vulgar word: every word is vulgar which a man uses to give the world an exagger- ated notion" of himself or his condition. When the wretched bagman, brought up to give evidence before Judge Coltman, was asked what his trade was, and replied that " he represented the house of Dobson and Hobson," he showed himself to be a vulgar, mean-souled wretch, and was most properly reprimanded by his lordship. To be a bagman is to be humble, but not of necessity vulgar. Pomposity is vulgar, to ape a higher rank than your own is vulgar, for an ensign of militia to call himself captain is vulgar, or for a bagman to style himself the " repre- sentative " oi Dobson and Hobson. The honest auctioneer, then, will not call his room his study ; but his " private room," or his office, or whatever may be the phrase commonly used among auctioneers. He will not for the same reason call himself (as once in a momentary feeling of pride and enthusiasm for the profession I thought he should)— he will not call himself an " advocate," but an' auctioneer. There is no need to attempt to awe people by big titles : let each man bear his own name without shame. And a very gentlemanlike and agreeable, though exceptional position (for it is clear that there cannot be more than two of the class,) may the auctioneer occupy. FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 595 He must not sacrifice his honesty, then, either for his own sake or his clients', in any way, nor tell fibs about himself or them. He is by no means called upon to draw the long bow in their behalf ; all that his office obliges him to do — and let us hope his disposition will lead him to do it also — is to take a favorable, kindly, philanthropic view of the world ; to say what can fairly be said by a good-natured and ingenious man in praise of any article for which he is desirous to awaken public sympathy. And how readily and pleasantly may this be done ! I will take upon myself, for instance, to write an eulogium upon So-and-So's last novel, which shall be every word of it true \ and which work, though to some discontented spirits it might appear dull, may be shown to be really amusing and instruct- ive, — nay, is amusing and instructive, — to those who have the art of discovering where those precious qualities lie. An auctioneer should have the organ of truth large ; of im- agination and comparison, considerable ; of wit, great ; of be- nevolence, excessively large. And how happy might such a man be, and cause others to be ! He should go through the world laughing, merry, observ- ant, kind hearted. He should love everything in the world, because his profession regards everything. With books of lighter literature (for I do not recommend the genteel auc- tioneer to meddle with heavy antiquarian and philological works) he should be elegantly conversant, being able to give a neat history of the author, a pretty sparkling kind criticism of the work, and an appropriate eulogium upon the binding, which would make those people read who never read before ; or buy at least, which is his first consideration. Of pictures we have already spoken. Of china, of jewelry, of gold-headed canes, valuable arms, picturesque antiquities, with what elo- quent entrainerjient might he not speak ! He feels every one of these things in his heart. He has all the tastes of the fashionable world. Dr. Meyrick cannot be more enthusiastic about an old suit of armor than he ; Sir Harris Nicolas not more eloquent regarding the gallant times in which it was worn, and the brave histories connected with it. He takes up a pearl necklace with as much delight as any beauty who was sighing to wear it round her own snowy throat, and hugs a china monster with as much joy as the oldest duchess could do. Nor must he affect these things ; he must feel them. He is a glass in which all the tastes of fashion are reflected. He must be every one of the characters to whom he addresses him- self — a genteel Goethe or Shakspeare, a fashionable world- spirit. 596 "^HE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. How can a man be all this and not be a gentleman ; and not have had an education in the midst of the best company — an insight into the most delicate feelings, and wants, and usages ? The pulpit oratory of such a man would be invalua- ble ; people would flock to listen to him from far and near. He might out of a single teacup cause streams of world- philosophy to flow, which would be drunk in by grateful thousands ; and draw out of an old pincushion points of wit, morals, and experience, that would make a nation wise. Look round, examine the annals of auctions, as Mr. Robins remarks, and (with every respect for him and his brethren) say, is there in the profession such a man ? Do we want such a man ? Is such a man likely or not likely to make an immense fortune ? Can we get such a man except out of the very best society, and among the most favored there ? Everybody answers " No ! " I knew you would answer no. And now, gentlemen who have laughed at my pretension to dis- cover a profession, say, have I not 1 I have laid my finger upon the spot where the social deficit exists. I have showed that we labor under a wantj and when the world wants, do we not know that a man will step forth to fill the vacant space that Fate has left for him ? Pass we now to the — SECOND PROFESSION. This profession, too, is a great, lofty, and exceptional one, and discovered by me considering these things, and deeply musing upon the necessities of society. Nor let honorable gentlemen imagine that I am enabled to offer them in this pro- fession, more than any other, a promise of what is called future glory, deathless fame, and so forth. All that I say is, that I can put young men in the way of making a comfortable liveli- hood, and leaving behind them, not a name, but what is better, a decent maintenance to their children. Fitz-Boodle is as good a name as any in England. General Fitz-Boodle, who, in Marl- borough's time, and in conjunction with the famous Van Slaap, beat the French in the famous action of Vischzouchee, near Mardyk, in Holland, on the 14th of February, 1709, is promised an immortality upon his tomb in Westminster Abbey ; but he died of apoplexy, deucedly in debt, two years afterwards : and what after that is the use of a name ? No, no ; the age of chivalry is past. Take the twenty-four first men who come into the club, and ask who they are, and FTTZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS, 597 how they made their money ? There's Woolsey-Sackville • his father was Lord Chancellor, and sat on the woolsack, whence he took his title ; his grandfather dealt in coal-sacks, and not in wool-sacks, — small coal-sacks, dribbling out little supplies of black diamonds to the poor. Yonder comes Frank Leveson, in a huge broad-brimmed hat, his shirt-cuffs turned up to l^is elbows. Leveson is as gentlemanly a fellow as the world con- tains, and if he has a fault, is perhaps too finikin. Well, you fancy him related to the Sutherland family : nor, indeed, does honest Frank deny it ; but cntre nous, my good sir, his father was an attorney, and his grandfather a bailiff in Chancery Lane, bearing a name still older than that of Leveson, namely, Levy. So it is that this confounded equality grows and grows, and has laid the good old nobility by the heels. Look at that venerable Sir Charles Kitely, of Kitely Park : he is interested about the Ashantees, and is just come from Exeter Hall. Kitely dis- counted bills in the City in the year 1787, and gained his baronetcy by a loan to the French princes. All these points of history are perfectly well known ; and do you fanc}^ the world cares ? Psha ! Profession is no disgrace to a man : be what you like, provided you succeed. If Mr. Fauntleroy could come to life with a million of money, you and I would dine with him : you know we would ; for why should we be better than our neighbors ? Put, then, out of your head the idea that this or that pro- fession is unworthy of you : take any that may bring you profit, and thank him that puts you in the way of being rich. The profession I would urge (upon a person duly qualified to undertake it) has, I confess, at the first glance, something ridiculous about it ; and will not appear to young ladies so romantic as the calling of a gallant soldier, blazing with glory, gold lace, and vermilion coats ; or a dear delightful clerg}mian, with a sweet blue eye, and a pocket-handkerchief scented charm- ingly with iavender-water. The profession I allude to will, I own, be to young women disagreeable, to sober men trivial, to great stupid moralists unworthy. But mark my words for it, that in the religious world (I have once or twice, by mistake no doubt, had the honor of dining in " serious " houses, and can vouch for the fact that the dinners there are of excellent quality) — in the serious world, in the great mercantile world, among the legal community (notorious feeders), in every house in town (except some half-dozen which can afford to do without such aid), the man I propose might speedily render himself indispensable. 5g8 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. Does the reader now begin to take ? Have I hinted enough for him that he may see with eagle glance the immense beauty of the profession I am about to unfold to him ? We have all seen Gunter and Chevet ; Fregoso, on the Puerta del Sol (a relation of the ex-Minister Calomarde), is a good purveyor enough for the benighted olla-eatersof Madrid ; nor have I any fault to find with Guimard, a Frenchman, who has lately set up in the Toledo, at Naples, where he furnishes people with decent food. It has given me pleasure, too, in walking about London — in the Strand, in Oxford Street, and elsewhere, to see four- nisseurs and comestible merchants newly set up. Messrs. Morell have excellent articles in their warehouses ; Fortnura and Mason are known to most of my readers. But what is not known, what is wanted, what is languished for in England is a dimicr-mastc}\ — a gentleman who is not a provider of meat or wine, like the parties before named, who can have no earthly interf.st in the price of truffled turkeys or dry champagne beyond that legitimate interest which he may feel for his client, and which leads him to see that the latter is not cheated by his tradesmen. For the dinner-giver is almost naturally an ignorant man. How in mercy's name can Mr. Serjeant Snorter, who is all day at Westminster, or in chambers, know possibly the mysteries, the delicacy, of dinner-giving ? How can Alderman Pogson know anything beyond the fact that venison is good with currant-jelly, and that he likes lots of green fat with his turtle .-' Snorter knows law, Pogson is acquainted with the state of the tallow-market ; but what should he know of eating, like you and me, wiio have given up our time to it .> (I say me only familiarly, for I have only reached so far in the science as to know that I know nothing.) But men there are, gifted individuals, who have spent years of deep thought — ^not merely intervals of labor, but hours of study every day — over the gormandizing science, — who, like alchemists, have let their fortunes go, guinea by guinea, into the all-devour- ing pot, — who, ruined as they sometimes are, never get a guinea by chance but they will liave a plate of pease in May with it, or a little feast of ortolans, or a piece of Glo'ster salmon, or one more flask from their favorite claret-bin. It is not the ruined gastronomist that I would advise a per- son to select as his tablc-masier ; for the opportunities of pecula- tion would be too great in a position of such confidence — such complete abandonment of one man to another. A ruined man ^vould be making bargains with the tradesmen. They would offer to cash bills for him, or send him opportune presents of FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 599 wine, which he could convert into money, or bribe him in one way or another. Let this be done, and the profession of table- master is ruined. Snorter and Pogson may ahnost as well order their own dinners, as be at the mercy of a " gastronomic agent " whose faith is not beyond all question. A vulgar mind, in reply to these remarks regarding the gastronomic ignorance of Snorter and Pogson, might say, " True, these gentlemen know nothing of household economy, being occupied with other more important business elsewhere. Cut what are their wives about ? Lady Pogson in Harley Street has nothing earthly to do but to mind her poodle, and her man- tua-maker's and housekeeper's bills. Mrs. Snorter in Bedford Place, when she has taken her drive in the Park with the young ladies, may surely have time to attend to her husband's guests and preside over the preparations of his kitchen, as she does wor- thily at his hospitable mahogany." To this I answer, that a man who expects a woman to understand the philosophy of dinner- giving, shows the strongest evidence of a low mnid. He is unjust towards that lovely and delicate creature, woman, to suppose that she heartily understands and cares for what she eats and drinks. No ; taken as a rule, women have no real appetites. They are children in the gormandizing way ; loving sugar, sops, tarts, trifles, apricot-creams, and such gewgaws. They would take a sip of Malmsey, and would drink currant- wine just as happily, if that accursed liquor was presented to them by the butler. Did you ever know a woman who could lay her fair hand upon her gentle heart and say on her con- science that she preferred dry sillery to sparkling champagne ? Such a phenomenon does not exist. They are not made for eating and drinking ; or, if they make a pretence to it, become downright odious. Nor can they, I am sure, witness the prep- arations of a really great repast without a certain jealousy. They grudge spending money (ask guards, coachmen, inn- waiters, whether this be not the case). They will give their all, heaven bless them 1 to serve a son, a grandson, or a dear rela- tive, but they have not the heart to pay for small things magnif- icently. They are jealous of good dinners, and no wonder. I have shown in a former discourse how they are jealous of smo- king, and other personal enjoyments of the male. I say, then, that Lady Pogson or Mrs. Snorter can never conduct their hus- bands' table properly. Fancy either of them consenting to allow a calf to be stewed down into gravy for one dish, or a dozen hares to be sacrificed to a single puree of game, or the best Madeira to be used for a sauce, or a half a dozen cham- Goo THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. pagne to boil a ham in. They will be for bringing a bottle ot Marsala in place of the old particular, or for having the ham cooked in water. But of these matters — of kitchen philosophy — I have no practical or theoretic knowledge ; and must beg pardon if, only understanding the goodness of a dish when cooked, I may have unconsciously made some blunder regard- ing the prejDaration. Let it, then, be set down as an axiom, without further trouble of demonstration, that a woman is a bad dinner-caterer ; either too great and simple for it, or too mean — I don't know which it is ; and gentlemen, according as they admire or con- temn the sex, may settle that matter their own way. In brief, the mental constitution of lovely woman is such that she can- not give a great dinner. It must be done by man. It can't be done by an ordinary man, because he does not understand it. Vain fool ! and he sends off to the pastry-cook in Great Russell Street or Baker Street, he lays on a couple of extra waiters (green-grocers in the neighborhood), he makes a great pother with his butler in the cellar, and fancies he has done the business. Bon Dieii / Who has not been at those dinners ? — those monstrous exhibitions of the pastry-cook's art ? Who does not know those made dishes with the universal sauce to each : fricandeaux, sweetbreads, damp dumpy cutlets, &c., seasoned with the compound of grease, onions, bad port-wine, cayenne pepper, curry-powder (Warren's blacking, for what I know, but the taste is always the same) — there they lie in the old corner dishes, the poor wiry Moselle and sparkling Burgundy in the ice-coolers, and the old story of white and brown soup, turbot, little smelts, boiled turkey, saddle-of-mutton, and so forth ? " Try a little of that fricandeau," says Mrs. Snorter, with a kind smile. " You'll find it, I think, very nice." Be sure it has come in a green tray from Great Russell Street. " Mr. Fitz- Boodle, you have been in Germany," cries Snorter, knowingly; " taste the hock, and tell me what you think of that." How should he know better, poor benighted creature ; or she, dear good soul that she is ? If they would have a leg of mutton and an apple-pudding, and a glass of sherry and port (or simple brandy-ancl-water called by its own name) after din- ner, all would be very well ; but they must shine, they must dine as their neighbors. There is no difference in the style of dinners in London ; people with five hundred a year treat you exactly as those of five thousand. They will have their Mo- selle or hock, their fatal side-dishes brought in the green trays from the pastry-cook's. FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 6oi Well, there is no harm done ; not as regards the dinner- givers at least, though the dinner-eaters may have to suffer somewhat ; it only shows that the former are hospitably inclined, and wish to do the very best in their power, — good honest fellows ! If they do wrong, how can they help it? they know no better. And now, is it not as clear as the sun at noon-day, that A want exists in London for a superintendent of the table — a gastro- nomic agent — a dinner-master, as I have called him before ? A man of such a profession would be a metropolitan benefit ; hundreds of thousands of people of the respectable sort, people in white waistcoats, would thank him daily. Calculate how many dinners are given in the City of London, and calculate the numbers of benedictions that " the Agency " might win. And as no doubt the observant man of the world has remarked that the freeborn Englishman of the respectable class is, of all others, the most slavish and truckling to a lord ; that there is no fly-blown peer but he is pleased to have him at his table, proud beyond measure to call him by his surname (with- out the lordly prefix) ; and that those lords whom he does not know, he yet (the freeborn Englishman) takes care to have their pedigrees and ages by heart from his world-bible, the " Peerage : " as this is an indisputable fact, and as it is in this particular class of Britons that our agent must look to find clients, I need not say it is necessary that the agent should be as high-born as possible, and that he should be able to tack, if possible, an honorable or some other handle to his respect- able name. He must have it on his professional card — • Wc^t Poivoruble (Ktorgc 6ormiTnir 6obbktoit, Apician Chambers, Pall Mall. Or, ^ir ^ugitstus Citrbtr Cramkg ^ramkjr, Amphitryonic Cotcncil Office, Swalloia Street. or, in some such neat way, Gothic letters on a large handsome crockeryware card, with possibly a gilt coat-of-arms and sup- 6o2 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. porters, or the bloocl-red hand of baroncLcy duly displayed. DejDcnd on it plenty of guineas will fall in it, and that Gobble- ton's supporters will support him comfortably enough. For this profession is not like that of the auctioneer, which I take to be a far more noble one, because more varied and more truthful ; but in the Agency case, a little humbug at least is necessary. A man cannot be a successful agent by the mere force of his simple merit or genius in eating and drinking. He must of necessity impose upon the vulgar to a certain degree. He must be of that rank which will lead them naturally to respect him, otherwise they might be led to jeer at his profes- sion j but let a noble exercise it, and bless your soul, all the " Court Guide " is dumb ! He will then give out in a manly and somewhat pompous address what has before been mentioned, namely, that he has seen the fatal way in which the hospitality of England has been perverted hitherto, acaipare'd by a few cooks with green trays. (He must use a good deal of French in his language, for that is considered very gentlemanlike by vulgar people.) He will take a set of chambers in Carlton Gardens, which will be richly though severely furnished, and the door of which will be opened by a French valet (he i/iitst be a Frenchman, remember^, who will say, on letting Mr. Snorter or Sir Benjamin Pogson in, that " Milor is at home." Pogson will then be shown into a library furnished with massive book-cases, containing all the works on cookery and wines (the titles of them) in all the known languages in the world. Any books, of course, will do, as you will have them handsomely bound, and keep them under plate- glass. On a side-table will be little sample-bottles of wines, a few truffles on a white porcelain saucer, a prodigious straw- berry or two, perhaps, at the time when such fruit costs much money. On the library will be busts marked Ude, Careme, Be'chamel, in marble (never mind what heads, of course) ; and, perhaps, on the clock should be a figure of the Prince of Conde's cook killing himself because the fish had not arrived in time : there may be a wreath of immortelles on the figure to give it a more decidedly Frenchified air. The walls will be of a dark rich paper, hung round with neat gilt frames, containing plans of menus of various great dinners, those of Cambaceres, Napoleon, Louis XIV., Louis XVHL, Heliogabalus if you like, each signed by the respective cook. After the stranger bias looked about him at these things, which he does not understand in the least, especially the truf« fles, which look like dirty potatoes, you will make your appear- FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 603 ance, dressed in a dark dress, with one handsome enormous gold chaui, and one hirge diamond ring ; a gold snuff-box, of course, which j-ou will thrust into the visitor's paw before say- ing a word. You will be yourself a portly grave man, with your hair a little bald and gray. In fact, in this, as in all other professions, you had best try to look as like Canning as you can. When Pogson has done sneezing with the snuff, you will say to him, " Take ■A.fautcuil. I have the honor of addressing Sir IJenjamin Pogson, I believe .'' " And then you will explain to him your system. This, of course, must vary with every person you address. But let us lay down a few of the heads of a plan which may be useful, or may be modified infinitely, or may be cast aside altogether, just as circumstances dictate. After all / am not going to turn gastronomic agent, and speak only for the benefit perhaps of the very person who is reading this : — "synopsis of the gastronomic agency of the honorable GEORGE GOBBLETON. " The Gastronomic Agent having traversed Europe, and dined with the best society of the world, has been led naturally, as a patriot, to turn his thoughts homeward, and cannot but deplore the lamentable ignorance regarding gastronomy dis- played in a country for which Nature has clone almost every- thing. " But it is ever singularly thus. Inherent ignorance belongs to man ; and The Agent, in his Continental travels, has always remarked, that the countries most fertile in themselves were invariably worse tilled than those more barren. The Italians and the Spaniards leave their fields to Nature, as we leave our vegetables, fish, and meat. And, heavens ! what richness do we fling away, — what dormant qualities in our dishes do we disregard, — what glorious gastronomic crops (if The Agent may be permitted the expression) — what glorious gastronomic crops do we sacrifice, allowing our goodly meats and fishes to lie fallow ! ' Chance,' it is said by an ingenious historian, who, having been long a secretary in the East India House, must certainly have had access to the best information upoa Eastern matters, — 'Chance,' it is said by Mr. Charles Lamb, 'which burnt down a Chinaman's house, with a litter of sucking-pigs that were unable to escape from the interior, discovered to the world the excellence of roast pig.' Gunpowder, we know, was 39 6o4 "^HE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. invented by a similar fortuity." [The reader will observe tha£- my style in the supposed character of a Gastronomic Agent is purposely pompous and loud.] " So, 'tis said, was printing,— so glass. — We should have drunk our wine poisoned with the villanous odor of the borachio, had not some Eastern mer- chants, lighting their fires in the Desert, marked the strange composition which now glitters on our sideboards, and holds the costly produce of our vines. " We have spoken of the natural riches of a country. Let the reader think but for one moment of the gastronomic wealth of our country of England, and he will be lost in thankful amazement as he watches the astonishing riches poured out upon us from Nature's bounteous cornucopia ! Look at our fisheries ! — the trout and salmon tossing in our brawling streams ; the white and full-breasted turbot struggling in the mariner's net ; the purple lobster lured by hopes of greed into his basket-prison, which he quits only for the red ordeal of the pot. Look at whitebait, great heavens ! — look at whitebait, and a thousand frisking, glittering, silvery things besides, which the nymphs of our native streams bear kindly to the deities of our kitchens — our kitchens such as they are. " And though it may be said that other countries produce the freckle-backed salmon and the dark broad-shouldered tur- bot ; though trout frequent many a stream besides those of England, and lobsters sprawl on other sands than ours ; yet, let it be remembered, that our native country possesses these altogether, while other lands only know them separately ; that, above 'all, whitebait is peculiarly our country's — our city's own ! Blessings and eternal praises be on it, and, of course, on brown bread and butter ! And the Briton should further remember, with honest pride and thankfulness, the situation of his capital, of London : the lordly turtle floats from the sea into the stream, and from the stream to the city ; the rapid fleets of all the world se dojinent rendezvous in the docks of our silvery Thames ; the produce of our coasts and provincial cities, east and west, is borne to us on the swift lines of lightning railroads. In a word — and no man but one who, like The Agent, has travelled Europe over, can appreciate the gift — there is no city on earth's surface so well supplied with fish fls London ! " With respect to our meats, all praise is supererogatory. Ask the wretched hunter of chevreuil, the poor devourer of rehbratcn, what they think of the noble English haunch, that, after bounding in the Park of Knole or Windsor, exposes its magnificent flank upon some broad silver platter at our tables? FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 605 It is enough to say of foreign vemson, ih3.t they are obliged to lard if. Away ! ours is the pahii of roast ; whether of the crisp mutton that crops the thymy herbage of our clowns, or the noble ox who revels on lush Althorpian oil-cakes. What game is like to ours? Mans excels us in poultry, 'tis true; but 'tis only in merry England that the partridge has a flavor, that the turkey can almost se passer de triiffes, that the jolly juicy goose can be eaten as he deserves. " Our vegetables, moreover, surpass all comment ; Art (by the means of glass) has wrung fruit out of the bosom of Nature, such as she grants to no other clime. And if we have no vineyards on our hills, we have gold to purchase their best produce. Nature, and enterprise that masters Nature, have done everything for our land. •' But, with all these prodigious riches in our power, is it not painful to reflect how absurdly we employ them ? Can we say that we are in the habit of dining well .'' Alas ! no ! and The Agent, roaming o'er foreign lands, and seeing how, with small means and great ingenuity and perseverance, great ends were effected, comes back sadly to his own country, whose wealth he sees absurdly wasted, whose energies are misdirected, and whose vast capabilities are allowed to lie idle. * * * " [Here should follow what I have only hinted at previously, a vivid and terrible picture of the degradation of our table.] u* * * Ql^^ £qj. ^ i-naster spirit, to give an impetus to the land, to see its great power directed in the right way, and its wealth not squandered or hidden, but nobly put out to interest and spent I "The Agent dares not hope to win that proud station — to be the destroyer of a barbarous system wallowing in abusive prodigality — to become a dietetic reformer — the Luther of the table. " But convinced of the wrongs which exist, he will do his humble endeavor to set them right, and to those who know that they are ignorant (and this is a vast step to knowledge) he offers his counsels, his active co-operation, his frank and kindly sympathy. The Agent's qualifications are these : — " I. He is of one of the best families in England ; and has in himself, or through his ancestors, been accustomed to good living for centuries. In the reign of Henry V., his maternal great-great-grandfather, Roger De Gobylton " \the name may be varied, of course, or the kings rcig/i, or the dish invefited\ " was the first who discovered the method of roasting a peacock whole, with his tail-feathers displayed ; and the dish was served 6o6 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. to the two kings at Rouen. Sir Walter Cramley, in Elizabeth's reign, produced before her Majesty, when at Killingworth Castle, mackerel with the famous gooseberry satiee, &c. " 2. He has, through life, devoted himself Jo no other study than that of the table : and has visited to that end the courts of all the nionarchs of Europe : taking the receipts of the cooks, with whom he lives on terms of intimate friendship, often at enormous expense to himself. " 3. He has the same acquaintance with all the vintages of the Continent ; havinp: passed the autumn of 181 1 (the comet year) on the great Weinberg of Johannisberg ; being employed sim- ilarly at Bordeaux, in 1834; at Oporto, in 1820; and at Xeres de la Frontera, with his excellent friends. Duff, Gordon and Co., the year after. He travelled to India and back in com- pany with fourteen pipes of Madeira (on board of the ' Samuel Snob ' East Indiaman, Captain Scuttler), and spent the vin- tage season in the island, with unlimited powers of observation granted to him by the great houses there. " 4. He has attended Mr. Groves of Charing Cross, and Mr. Giblett of Bond Street, in a course of purchases of fish and meat ; and is able at a glance to recognize the age of mutton, the primeness of beef, the firmness and freshness of fish of all kinds. " 5. He has visited the parks, the grouse-manors, and the principal gardens of England, in a similar professional point of view." The Agent then, through his subordinates, engages to pro- vide gentlemen who are about to give dinner-parties — *' I. With cooks to dress the dinners ; a list of which gen- tlemen he has by him, and will recommend none who are not worthy of the strictest confidence. " 2. With a ?nenu for the table, according to the price which the Amphitr3'on chooses to incur. " 3. He will, through correspondence with the various fournisseurs of the metropolis, provide them with viands, fruit, wine, &c., sending to Paris, if need be, where he has a regular correspondence with Messrs. Chevet. " 4. He has a list of dexterous table-waiters (all answering to name of John for fear of mistakes, the butler's name to be settled according to pleasure), and would strongly recommend that the servants of the house should be locked in the back kitchen or servants' hall during the time the dinner takes place. FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 607 " 5. He will receive and examine all the accounts of the fournisseurs, — of course pledging his honor as a gentleman not to receive one shilling of paltry gratification from the trades- men he employs, but to see the bills are more moderate, and their goods of better quality than they would provide to any of less experience than himself. " 6. His fee for superintending a dinner will be five guineas : and The Agent entreats his clients to trust entirely to him and his subordinates for the arrangement of the repast, — not to think of inserting dishes of their own invention, or producing wine from their own cellars, as he engages to have it brought in the best order, and fit for immediate drinking. Should the Am- phitryon, however, desire some particular dish or wine, he must consult The Agent, in the first case by writing, in the second, by sending a sample to the Agent's chambers. For it is mani- fest that the whole complexion of a dinner may be altered by the insertion of a single dish ; and, therefore, parties will do well to mention their wishes on the first interview with the Agent. He cannot be called upon to recompose his bill of fare, except at great risk to the ensemble of the dinner and enormous inconvenience to himself. " 7. The Agent will be at home for consultation from ten o'clock until two — earlier, if gentlemen who are engaged at early hours in the City desire to have an interview : and be it remembered, that di personal interview is always the best : for it is greatly necessary to know not only the number but the char- acter of the guests whom the Amphitryon proposes to entertain, — whether they are fond of any particular wine or dish, what is their state of health, rank, style, profession, &c. "8. At two o'clock, he will commence his rounds; for as the metropolis is wide, it is clear that he must be early in the field in some districts. From 2 to 3 he will be in Russell Square and the neighborhood ; 3 to 3^, Harley Street, Port- land Place, Cavendish Square, and environs ; 3^ to 4^^, Port- man Square, Gloucester Place, Baker Street, &c., \% to 5, the new district about Hyde Park Terrace ; 5 to 5^, St. John's Wood and the Regent's Park. He will be in Grosvenor Square by 6, and in Belgrave Square, Pimlico, and its vicinity, by 7. Parties there are requested not to dine until 8 o'clock ; and The Agent, once for all, peremptorily announces that he will not go to the palace, where it is utterly impossible to serve a good dinner." 6o8 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. "to tradesmen. *' Every Monday evening during the season the Gastro< nomic Agent proposes to give a series of trial-dinners, to which the principal gourmands of the metropolis, and a few of The Agent's most respectable clients, will be invited. Covers will be laid for ten at nine o'clock precisely. And as The Agent does not propose to exact a single shilling of profit from their bills, and as his recommendation will be of infinite value to them, the tradesmen he employs will furnish the weekly dinner gratis. Cooks will attend (who have acknowledged characters) upon the same terms. To save trouble, a book will be kept where butchers, poulterers, fishmongers, &c., may inscribe their names in order, taking it by turns to supply the trial-table. Wine-merchants will naturally compete ever}- week promis- cuously, sending what they consider their best samples, and leaving with the hall-porter tickets of the prices. Confectionery to be done out of the house. Fruiterers, market-men, as butchers and poulterers. The Agent's fnaitre-d' hotel W\\\ give a receipt to each individual for the articles he produces ; and let all remember that The Agent is a very keen Judge, and woe betide those who serve him or his clients ill ! " George Gormand Gobbleton. "Carlton Gardens , Jime lo, 1842." Here I have sketched out the heads of such an address as I conceive a gastronomic agent might put forth; and appeal pretty confidently to the British public regarding its merits and my own discovery. If this be not a profession — a new one — a feasible one — a lucrative one, — I don't know what is. Say that a man attends but fifteen dinners daily, that is seventy-five guineas, or five hundred and fifty pounds weekly, or fourteen thousand three hundred pounds for a season of six months : and how many of our younger sons have such a capital even "i Let, then, some unemployed gentleman with the requisite quali- fications come forward. It will not be necessary that he should have done all that is stated in the prospectus ; but, at any rate, let him say he has : there can't be much harm in an innocent fib of that sort ; for the gastronomic agent must be a sort of dinner-pope, whose opinions cannot be supposed to err. And as he really will be an excellent judge of eating and drinking, and will bring his whole mind to bear upon the ques- tion, and will speedily acquire an experience which no person FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS, 6og out of the profession can possibly have ; and as, moreover, he will be an honorable man, not practising upon his client in any way, or demanding sixpence beyond his just fee, the world will gain vastly by the coming forward of such a person — gain in good dinners, and absolutely save money : for what is five guineas for a dinner of sixteen ? The sum may be gaspille by a cook- wench, or by one of those abominable before-named pastry- cooks with their green trays. If any man take up the business, he will invite me, of course, to the Monday dinners. Or does ingratitude go so far as that a man should forget the author of his good fortune } I believe it does. Turn we away from the sickening theme ! And now, having concluded my professions, how shall I ex- press my obligations to the discriminating press of this country for the unanimous applause which hailed my first appearance t It is the more wonderful, as I pledge my sacred word, I never wrote a document before much longer than a laundress's bill, or the acceptance of an invitation to dinner. But enough of this egotism : thanks for praise conferred sound like vanity \ gratitude is hard to speak of, and at present it swells the full heart of George Savage Fitz-Boodlb. END OF " THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS." THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Mr. Horace Milliken, a Widower, a wealthy City Merchant. George Milliken, a Child, his Son. Captain Touchit, his Friend. Clarence Kicklebury, brother to Milliken'' s late Wife. John Howell, Af.'s Butler and confidential Servant. Charles Page, Foot-boy. BuLKELEY, Lady Kicklebuty's Servant. Mr. BONNINGTON. Coachfuan, Cabman; a Bhiecoat Boy, another Boy {Mrs. Prior'' i Sons.) Lady Kicklebury, Mother-in-law to Milliken. Mrs. BoNNiNGTON, Milliken' s Mother {married again). Mrs. Prior. Miss Prior, her Daughter, Governess to Milliken's Children. Arabella Milliken, a Child. Mary Barlow, School-room Maid. A grown-up Girl aftd Child of Mrs. Prior's, Lady K.''s Maid, Coek. THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. ACT 1. Scene. — Milliken's vt//a at Richmond; two drawing-rooms opening into one another. The late Mrs. Milliken's portrait over the mantel-piece ; book-cases, writing-tables, piano, news- papers, a handsomely furnished saloon. The backroom opefis with very large windows, on the lawn and pleasure-grou7id ; gate, and wall — over zuhich the heads of a cab and a carriage are seen, as persons arrive. Fruit, and a ladder on the walls, A door to the dining-room, another to the sleeping apartments^ dfc. John. — Everybody out ; governor in the city ; governess (heigh-ho !) walking in the Park with the children ; ladyship gone out in the carriage. Let's sit down and have a look at the papers. Buttons ! fetch the Morning Post out of Lady Kicklebury's room. Where's the Daily News, sir ? Page. — Think it's in Milliken's room. John. — Milliken ! you scoundrel ! What do you mean by Milliken ? Speak of your employer as your governor if you like ; but not as simple Milliken. Confound your impudence ! you'll be calling me Howell next. Page. — Well ! I didn't know. You call him Milliken. John. — Because I know him, because I'm intimate with him, because there's not a secret he has but I may have it for the asking ; because the letters addressed to Horace Milliken, Esq., might as well be addressed John Howell, Esq., for I read 'em, I put 'em away and docket 'em, and remember 'em. I know (613) ^14 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. his affairs better than he does : his income to a shilling, pay his tradesmen, wear his coats if I like, /may call Mr. Milliken what I please ; but not yon, you little scamp of a clod-hopping ploughboy. Know your station and do your business, or you don't wear them buttons long, I promise you. \Exit Page.] Let me go on with the paper \reads\. How brilliant this writing is ! Times, Chronicle, Daily News, they're all good, blest if they ain't. How much better the nine leaders in them three daily papers is, than nine speeches in the House of Com- mons ! Take a very best speech in the 'Ouse now, and com- pare it with an article in The Times ! I say, the newspaper has the best of it for philosophy, for wit, novelty, good sense too. And the party that writes the leading article is nobody, and the chap that speaks in the House of Commons is a hero. Lord, Lord, how the world is 'umbugged ! Pop'lar representa- tion ! what is pop'lar representation ? Dammy, it's a farce. Hallo ! this article is stole ! I remember a passage in Montes- quieu uncommonly like it. \_Gods afid gets the book, jis he is standing upon the sofa to get it, and sitting down to read it, Miss Prior a«^ the Children have come in at the garden. Children pass across stage. Miss Prior enters by ope7i window, bringing flowers into the room.] John. — It is like it. [JTe slaps the book, and seeing Miss Prior who enters^ then jumps tip from sofa, saying very respect- fully,-] John. — I beg your pardon, Miss. Miss P. — [sarcastically.'] Do I disturb you, Howell ? John. — Disturb ! I have no right to say — a servant has no right to be disturbed, but I hope I may be pardoned for ven- turing to look at a volume in the libery. Miss, just in reference to a newspaper harticle — that's all. Miss. Miss P. — You are very fortunate in finding anything to in- terest you in the paper, I'm sure. John. — Perhaps, Miss, you are not accustomed to political discussion, and ignorant of — ah — I beg your pardon : a servant, I know, has no right to speak. \Exit into dining-roo?n, making a low bow!] Miss Prior. — The coolness of some people is really quite extraordinary ! the airs they give themselves, the way in which they answer one, the books they read ! Montesquieu : " Esprit des Lois ! " [takes book up which % has left on sofa.] I believe the man has actually taken this from the shelf. I am sure Mr. Milliken, or her ladyship, never would. The other day " Hel- vetius " was found in Mr. Howell's pantry, forsooth ! It is THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 615 wonderful how he picked up French whilst we were abroad. " Esprit des Lois ! " what is it ? it must be dreadfully stupid. And as for reading " Helvetius " (who, I suppose, was a Roman general), I really can't understand how Dear, dear ! what airs these persons give themselves ! What will come next ? A footman — I beg Mr. Howell's pardon — a butler and confiden- tial valet lolls on the drawing-room sofa, and reads Montes- quieu ! Impudence ! And add to this, he follows me for the last two or three months with eyes that are quite horrid. What can the creature mean ? But I forgot — I am only a governess. A governess is not a lady — a governess, is but a servant — a governess is to work and walk all day with the children, dine in the school-room, and come to the drawing-room to play the man of the house to sleep. A governess is a domestic, only her place is not the servants' hall, and she is paid not quite so well as the butler who serves her her glass of wine. Odious ! George ! Arabella ! there are those little wretches quarrelling again ! Exit, Children are heard calling out, and seen quarrelling VI garden^ John [re-entering], — See where she moves ! grace is in all her steps. 'Eaven in her high — no — a-heaven in her heye, in every gesture dignity and love — ah, I wish I could say it ! I wish you may procure it, poor fool ! She passes by me — she tr-r-amples on me. Here's the chair she sets in [kisses it.] Here's the piano she plays on. Pretty keys, them fingers outhivories you ! When she plays on it, I stand and listen at the drawing-room door, and my heart thr-obs in time ! Fool, fool, fool ! why did you look on her, John Howell ! why did you beat for her, busy heart ! You were tranquil till you knew her ! I thought I could have been a-happy with Mary till then. That girl's affection soothed me. Her conversation didn't amuse me much, her ideers ain't exactly elevated, but they are just and proper. Her attentions pleased me. She ever kep' the best cup of tea for me. She crisped my buttered toast, or mixed my quiet tumbler for me, as I sat of hevenings and read my newspaper in the kitching. She respected the sanctaty of my pantry. When I was a-studying there, she never inter- rupted me. She darned my stockings for me, she starched and folded my chokers, and she sowed on the habsent buttons of which time and chance had bereft my linning. She has a good heart, Mary has. I know she'd get up and black the boots for me of the coldest winter mornings. She did when we was in humbler life, she did. 6i6 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. Enter Mary. You have good heart, Mary ! Mary, — Have I, dear John ? [sad/y.] John. — Yes, child — yes, I think a better never beat in woman's bosom. You're good to everybody — good to your parents whom you send half your wages to : good to your em- ployers whom you never robbed of a halfpenny, Mary \whimpering\. — Yes, I did, John. I took the jelly when you were in bed with the influenza ; and brought you the pork-wine negus. John. — Port, not pork, child. Pork is the hanimal which Jews ab'or. Port is from Oporto in Portugal. Mary \still crying\. — Yes, John ; you know everything a'most, John. John. — And you, poor child, but little ! It's not heart you want, you little trump, it's education, Mary : it's information : it's head, head, head ! You can't learn. You never can learn. Your ideers ain't no good. You never can hinterchange 'em with mine. Conversation between us is impossible. It's not your fault. Some people are born clever ; some are born tall, I ain't tall. Mary. — Ho ! you're big enough for me, John. \Offers to take his hand.'\ John. — Let go my 'and — my a-hand, Mary ! I say, some people are born with brains, and some with big figures. Look at that great ass, Bulkeley, Lady K.'s man — the besotted, stupid beast ! He's as big as a life-guardsman, but he ain't no more education nor ideers than the ox he feeds on. Mary. — Law, John, whatever do you mean ? John. — Hm ! you know not, little one ! you never can know. Have you ever felt the pangs of imprisoned genius ? have you ever felt what 'tis to be a slave ? Mary. — Not in a free country, I should hope, John Howell — no such a thing. A place is a place, and I know mine, and am content with the spear of life in which it pleases heaven to place me, John : and I wish you were, and remembered what we learned from our parson when we went to school together in dear old Pigeoncot, John — when you used to help little Mary with her lessons, John, and fought Bob Brown, the big butcher's boy, because he was rude to me, John, and he gave you that black hi. John. — Say eye, Mary, not heye '[gentfy']. Mary. — Eye ; and I thought you never looked better in all THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB, 617 your life than you did then : and we both took service at Squira Milliken's— me as a dairy-girl, and you as knife-boy ; and good masters have they been to us from our youth hup : both old Squire Milliken and Mr. Charles as is master now, and poor Mrs. as is dead, though she had her tantrums — and I thought we should save up and take the " Milliken Arms " — and now we have saved up — and now, now, now — oh, you are a stone, a stone, a stone ! and I wish you were hung round my neck, and I were put down the well ! There's the hup-stairs bell. \She starts, changing her manner as she hears the bell, and exit!] John [looking after her\ — It's all true. Gospel-true. We were children in the same village — sat on the same form at school. And it was for her sake that Bob Brown the butcher's boy whopped me. A black eye ! I'm not handsome. But if I were ugly, ugly as the Saracen's 'Ead, ugly as that beast Bulkeley, I know it would be all the same to Mary. She has never forgot the boy she loved, that brought birds'-nests for her, and spent his halfpenny on cherries, and bought a fairing with his first half-crown — a brooch it was, I remember, of two billing doves a-hopping on one twig, and brought it home for little yellow-haired, blue-eyed, red-cheeked Mary. Lord, Lord ! I don't like to think how I've kissed 'em, the pretty cheeks ! they've got quite pale now with crying — and she has never once reproached me, not once, the trump, the little tr-oump ! Is it my fault [stamping] that Fate has separated us ? Why did my young master take me up to Oxford, and give me the run of his libery and the society of the best scouts in the Uni- versity ? Why did he take me abroad ? Why have I been to Italy, France, Jummany with him — their manners noted and their realms surveyed, by jingo ! I've improved myself, and Mary has remained as you was. I try a conversation, and she can't respond. She's never got a word of poetry beyond Watt's Ims, and if I talk of Byron or Moore to her, I'm blest if she knows anything more about 'em than the cook, who is as hignorant as a pig, or that beast Bulkeley, Lady Kick's footman. Above all, why, why did I see the woman upon whom my wretched heart is fixed forever, and who carries away my soul with her — prostrate, I say, prostrate, through the mud at the skirts of her gownd ! Enslaver ! why did I ever come near you ? O enchantress Kelipso ! how you have got hold of me ! It was Fate, Fate, Fate. When Mrs. Milliken fell ill of scarlet fever at Naples, Milliken was away at Peters- borough, Rooshia, looking after his property. Her foring 6i8 THE WOLVES AND THE LA MB. woman fled. Me and the governess remained and nursed he' and the children. We nursed the little ones out of the fever. We buried their mother. We brought the children home over Halp and Happenine. I nursed 'em all three. I tended 'em all three, the orphans, and the lovely gu-gu-governess. At Rome, where she took ill, I waited on her ; as we went to Florence, had we been attacked by twenty thousand brigands, this little arm had courage for them all ! And if I loved thee, Julia, was I wrong ? and if I basked in thy beauty day and night, Julia, am I not a man ? and if, before this Peri, this en- chantress, this gazelle, I forgot poor little Mary Barlow, how could I help it ? I say, how the doose could I help it ? \Enter Lady Kicklebury, Bulkeley following with parcels and a spaniel?^ Lady K. — Are the children and the governess come home ? John. — Yes, my lady \in a perfectly altered tofie\ Lady K. — Bulkeley, take those parcels to my sitting-room. John. — Get up, old stoopid. Push along, old daddylonglegs [aside to Bulkeley]. Lady K. — Does any one dine here to-day, Howell ? John. — Captain Touchit, my lady. Lady K. — He's always dining here. John. — My master's oldest friend. Lady K. — Don't tell me. He comes from his club. He smells of smoke ; he is a low, vulgar person. Send Pinhorn up to me when you go down stairs. {^Exit Lady K.^ John. — I know. Send Pinhorn to me, means. Send my bonny brown hair, and send my beautiful complexion, and send my figure — and, O Lord ! O Lord ! what an old tigress that is ! What an old Hector ! How she do twist MilliJcen round her thumb ! He's born to be bullied by women : and I remem- ber him henpecked — let's see, ever since — ever since the time of that little gloveress at Woodstock, whose picter poor Mrs. M. made such a noise about when she found it in the lumber- room. Heh ! her picture will be going into the lumber-room some day. M. must marry to get rid of his mother-in-law and mother over him : no man can stand it, not M. himself, who's a Job of a man. Isn't he, look at him ! [As he lias been speak- ing, the bell has rung, the Page has run to the garden-door, and MiLLiKEN enters through the garden, laden with a hamper, band- box and cricket-bat^ MiLLiKEN. — Why was the carriage not sent for me, Howell ? THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 619 There was no cab at the station, and I have had to toll all th« way up the hill with these confounded parcels of my lady's. John. — I suppose the shower took off all the cabs, sir. When did a man ever get a cab in a shower ? — or a policeman at a pinch — or a friend when you wanted him — or anything at the right time, sir "i MiLLiKEN. — But, sir, why didn't the carriage come, I say ? John. — You know. MiLLiKEN. — How do you mean I know ? confound your im- pudence ! John. — Lady Kicklebuiy took it — your mother-in-law took it — went out a-visiting — Ham Common, Petersham, Twick'nam — doose knows where. She, and her footman, and her span'l dog. MiLLiKEN. — Well, sir, suppose her ladyship did take the carriage ? Hasn't she a perfect right .'' And if the carriage was gone, I want to know, John, why the devil the pony-chaise wasn't sent with the groom ? Am I to bring a bonnet-box and a hamper of fish in my own hands, I should like to know ? John. — Heh ! \laughs\. MiLLiKEN. — Why do you grin, you Cheshire cat ? John. — Your mother-in-law had the carriage ; and your mother sent for the pony-chaise. Your Pa wanted to go and see the Wicar of Putney. Mr. Bonnington don't like walking when he can ride. MiLLiKEN. — And why shouldn't Mr. Bonnington ride, sir, as long as there's a carriage in my stable ? Mr. Bonnington has had the gout, sir ! Mr. Bonnington is a clergyman, and married to my mother. He has every title to my respect. John. — And to your pony-chaise — yes, sir. MiLLiKEN. — And to everything he likes in this house, sir. John. — What a good fellow you are, sir ! You'd give your head off your shoulders, that you would. Is the fish for dinner to-day ? Bandbox for my lady, I suppose, sir ? \Looks iii\ — Turban, feathers, bugles, marabouts, spangles — doose knows what. Yes, it's for her ladyship. \To Page]. Charles, take this bandbox to her ladyship's maid. \To his master.'] What sauce would you like with the turbot ? Lobster sauce or Hol- landaise ? Hollandaise is best — most wholesome for you. Any- body besides Captain Touchit coming to dinner ? MiLLiKEN. — No one that I know of. John. — Very good. Bring up a bottle of the brown hock } He likes the brown hock. Touchit does. [Exit John.] 40 620 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. Enter Children. They run to Milliken. Both. — How d'you do, Papa ! How do you do, Papa ! Milliken. — Kiss your old father, Arabella. Come here George What ? George. — Don't care for kissing — kissing's for gals. Have you brought me that bat from London t Milliken. — Yes. Here's the bat; and here's the ball [Acy^^'j one from pocket^ — and George — Where's the wickets, Papa. O-o-o — where's the wickets ? [Jiowls.^ Milliken. — My dear, darling boy ! I left them at the office. What a silly papa I was to forget them ! Parkins for- got them. George. — Then turn him away, I say ! Turn him away ! \^IIe sta7nps?\^ Milliken. — What ! an old, faithful clerk and servant of your father and grandfather for thirty years past ? An old man, who loves us all, and has nothing but our pay to live on ? Arabella. — Oh, you naughty boy ! George. — I ain't a naughty boy. Arabella. — You are a naughty boy. George. — He ! he ! he ! he ! \Grins at /ler.] Milliken. — Hush, children ! Here, Arabella darling, here is a book for you. Look — aren't they pretty pictures ? Arabella. — Is it a story, Papa ? I don't care for stories in general. I like something instructive and serious. Grand- mamma Bonnington and grandpapa say George. — He's not your grandpapa. Arabella. — He is my grandpapa. George. — Oh, you great story ! Look ! look ! there's a cab. [J^uns out. The head of a Hansom cab is seefi over the garden gate. Bell rings. Page comes. Altercation between Cabman and Cap- tain TouCHiT appears to go on, during which'] Milliken. — Come and kiss your old father, Arabella. He's hungry for kisses. Arabella. — Don't. I want to go and look at the cab ; and to tell Captain Touchit that he mustn't use naughty words.. \Iiuns towards garden. Page is seen carrying a carpet-bag.] Enter Touchit through the open window smoking a cigar. ToucHiT. — How d'ye do, Milliken? How are tallows, hey, my noble merchant ? I have brought my bag, and intend, to sleep THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 6ii George. — I say, godpapa -' TouCHiT.— Well, godson ! George. — Give us a cigar ! TouCHiT. — Oh, you enfant terrible ! MiLLiKEN \tiihcezUy\. — Ah — ahem George Touchit ! you wouldn't mind — a — smoking that cigar in the garden, would you ? Ah — ah ! Touchit. — Hullo ! What's in the wind now ? You used to be a most inveterate smoker, Horace. MiLLiKEN. — The fact is — my mother-in-law — Lady Kickle- bury — doesn't like it, and while she's with us, you know Touchit. — Of course, of course \throws away cigat\ I beg her ladyship's pardon. I remember when you were courting her daughter she used not to mind it. MiLLiKEN. — Don't — don't allude to those times. \He looks up at his wife's picture^ George. — My mamma was a Kicklebury. The Kickle- burys are the oldest family in the world. My name is George Kicklebury Milliken, of Pigeoncot, Hants ; the Grove, Rich- mond, Surrey ; and Portland Place, London, Esquire — my name is. Touchit. — You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and tallow merchant. George. — Oh, bother! I don't care about that. I shall leave that when I'm a man : when I'm a man and come into my property. Milliken. — You come into your property ? George. — I shall, you know, when you're dead, papa. I shall have this house, and Pigeoncot ; and the house in town — no, I don't mind about the house in town — and I sha'n't let Bella live with me — no, I won't. Bella. — No ; /won't live with you. And /'// have Pigeon- cot. George. — You sha'n't have Pigeoncot. I'll have it: and the ponies : and I won't let you ride them — and the dogs, and you sha'n't have even a puppy to play with — and the dairy — and won't I have as much cream as I like — that's all ! Touchit. — What a darling boy ! Your children are brought up beautifully, Milliken. It's quite delightful to see them together. George. — And I shall sink the name of Milliken, I shall. Milliken. — Sink the name ? why George ? George. — Because the Millikens are nobodies — grand mamma says they are nobodies. The Kickleburj's are gentler men, and came over with William the Conqueror, 632 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. Bella. — I know when that was. One thousand one huiv dred and one thousand one hundred and onety-one ! George. — Bother when they came over ! But I know this, when I come into the property I shall sink the name of Milliken. MiLLiKEN. — So you are ashamed of your father's name, are you, George, my boy ? George. — Ashamed ! No, I ain't ashamed. Only Kickle- bury is sweller. I know it is. Grandmamma says so. Bella. — My grandmamma does not say so. My dear grandmamma says that family pride is sinful, and all belongs to this wicked world ; and that in a very few years what our names are will not matter. George. — Yes, she says so because her father kept a shop ; and so did Pa's father keep a sort of shop — only Pa's a gen- tleman now. ToucHiT. — Darling child ! How I wish I were married ! If I had such a dear boy as you, George, do you know what 1 would give him ? George \(juite pleased\ — What would you give him, god- papa ? ToucHiT. — I would give him as sound a flogging as ever boy had, my darling. I would whip this nonsense out of him. I would send him to school, where I would pray that he might be well thrashed : and if when he came home he was still ashamed of his father, I would put him apprentice to a chimney- sweep — that's what I would do. George. — I'm glad you're not my father, that s all. Bella. — And I'm glad your not my father, because you are a wicked man ! Milliken. — Arabella ! Bella. — Grandmamma says so. He is a worldly man, and the world is wicked. And he goes to the play : and he smokes, and he says ToucHiT. — Bella, what do I say ? Bella. — Oh, something dreadful ! You know you do ! I heard you say it to the cabman. TouCHiT. — So I did, so I did ! He asked me fifteen shil- lings from Piccadilly, and I told him to go to to some- body whose name begins with a D. Children. — Here's another carriage passing. Bella. — The Lady Rumble's carriage. George. — No, it ain't : it's Captain Boxer's carriage \thty run into the garden'^. THE WOLVES AA'D THE LAMB. 623 TouCHiT. — And this is the pass to wliich you have brought yourself, Horace Milliken ! Why, in your wife's time, it was better than this, my poor fellow ! Milliken. — Don't speak of her in that way, George Touchit ! ToucHiT. — What have I said ? I am only regretting her loss for your sake. She tyrannized over you ; turned your friends out of doors ; took your name out of your clubs ; dragged you about from party to party, though you can no more dance than a bear, and from opera to opera, though you don't know *' God Save the Queen " from " Rule Britannia." You don't, sir ; you know you don't. But Arabella was better than her mother, who has taken possession of you since your widow- hood. Milliken. — My dear fellow ! no she hasn't. There's my mother. Touchit. — Yes, to be sure, there's Mrs. Bonnington, and they quarrel over you like the two ladies over the baby before King Solomon. Milliken. — Play the satirist, my good friend ! laugh at my weakness ! Touchit. — I know you to be as plucky a fellow as ever stepped, Milliken, when a man's in the case. I know you and I stood up to each other for an hour and a half at Westmin- ster. Milliken. — Thank you ! We were both dragons of war ! tremendous champions ! Perhaps I am a little soft as regards women. I know my weakness well enough ; but in my case what is my remedy ? Put yourself in my position. Be a widower with two young children. What is more natural than that the mother of my poor wife should come and superintend my family ? My own mother can't. She has a half-dozen of little half brothers and sisters, and a husband of her own to attend to. I dare say Mr. Bonnington and my mother will come to dinner to-day. Touchit. — Of course they will, my poor old Milliken, you don't dare to dine without them. Milliken. — Don't go on in that manner, George Touchit ! Why should not my stepfather and my mother dine with me ? I can afford it. I am a domestic man and like to see my re- lations about me. I am in the City all day. Touchit. — Luckily for you. Milliken. — And my pleasure of an evening is to sit undef my own vine and under my own fig-tree with my own olive- 624 ^^^ WOLVES AND THE LAMB branches round about me ; to sit by my fire with my children at my knees ; to coze over a snug bottle of claret after dinner with a friend like you to share it ; to see the young folks at the breakfast-table of a morning, and to kiss them and so ofif to business with a cheerful heart. This was my scheme in mar- rying, had it pleased heaven to prosper my plan. When I was a boy and came from school and college, I used to see Mr. Bonnington, my father-in-law, with his young ones clustering round about him, so happy to be with him ! so eager to wait on him ! all down on their little knees round my mother before breakfast or jumping up on his after dinner. It was who should reach his hat, and who should bring his coat, and who should fetch his unibrella, and who should get the last kiss. ToucHiT. — What? didn't he kiss you? Oh, the hard- hearted old ogre ! MiLLiKEN. — Don't, Touchit ! Don't laugh at Mr. Bon- nington ! He is as good a fellow as ever breathed. Between you and me, as my half brothers and sisters increased and multiplied year after year, I used to feel rather lonely, rather bowled out, you understand. But I saw them so happy that I longed to have a home of my own. When my mother proposed Arabella for me (for she and Lady Kicklebury were immense friends at one time), I was glad enough to give up clubs and bachelorhood, and to settle down as a married man. My mother acted for the best. My poor wife's character, my mother used to say, changed after marriage. I was not as happy as I hoped to be ; but I tried for it. George, I am not so comfortable now as I might be. A house without a mistress, with two mothers-in-law reigning over it — one worldly and aris- tocratic, another what you call serious, though she don't mind a rubber of whist ; I give you my honor my mother plays a game at whist, and an uncommonly good game too — each woman dragging over a child to her side ; of course such a family can- not be comfortable. [Bell rings.'] There's the first dinner- bell. Go and dress, for heaven's sake. Touchit. — Why dress ? There is no company ! MiLLiKEN. — Why? ah! her ladyship likes it, you see. And it costs nothing to humor her. Quick, for she don't like to be kept waiting. Touchit. — Horace Milliken ! what a pity it is the law declares a widower shall not marry his wife's mother ! She would marry you else, — she would, on my word. THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. ,625 Enter John. John. — I have took the Captain's things in the blue room, sir. [Exeunt gentlemen, John arranges tables, 6>»^.] Ha ! Mrs. Prior ! I ain't partial to Mrs. Prior. I think she's an artful old dodger, Mrs. Prior. I think there's mystery in her unfathomable pockets, and schemes in the folds of her umbrella. But — but she's Julia's mother, and for the beloved one's sake I am civil to her. Mrs. Prior. — Thank you, Charles \to the Page, taho has been seen to let her in at the gardeti-gate\, I am so much obliged to you ! Good afternoon, Mr. Howell. Is my daughter — are the darling children well t Oh, I am quite tired and weary ! Three horrid omnibuses were full, and I have had to walk the whole weary long way. Ah, times are changed with me, Mr. Howell. Once when I was young and strong, I had my hus- band's carriage to ride in. John \aside\ — His carriage ! his coal-wagon ! I know well enough who old Prior was. A merchant ? yes a pretty mer- chant ! kep' a lodging-house, share in a barge, touting for orders, and at last a snug little place in the Gazette. Mrs. Prior. — How is your cough, Mr. Howell .? I have brought you some lozenges for it \takes nufnberless articles from her pocket], and if you would take them of a night and morning — oh, indeed, you would get better ! The late Sir Henry Hal ford recommended them to Mr. Prior. He was his late Maj- esty's physician and ours. You know we have seen happier times, Mr. Howell. Oh, I am quite tired and faint. John. — Will you take anything before the schoolroom tea, ma'am ? You will stop to tea, I hope, with Miss Prior, and our young folks ? Mrs. Prior. — Thank you : a little glass of wine when one is so faint — a little crumb of biscuit when one is so old and tired ! I have not been accustomed to want, you know ; and in my poor dear Mr. Prior's time John. — I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining- room.] Mrs. Prior.— Bless the man, how abrupt he is in his manner ! He quite shocks a poor lady who has been used to better days. What's here ? Invitations — ho ! Bills for Lady Kicklebury ! They are not paid. Where is Mr. M. going to dine, I wonder ? Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson, Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, request the pleasure. Request the pleasure ! Of course they do. They are always asking Mr. M. to dinner, They have 626 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. daughters to marry, and Mr. M. is a widower with three thou- sand a year, every shilling of it. I must tell Lady Kicklebury. He must never go to these places — never, never — mustn't be allowed. [ While talking^ she opens all the letters on the table, rummages the portfolio and writing-box, looks at cards on mantel- piece, work in work-basket tries tea-box and shows the greatest activity and curiosity.'] Re-enter John, bearing a tray with cakes, a decanter, ^'C. Thank you, thank you, Mr. Howell ! Oh, oh, dear me, not so much as that ! Half a glass, and one biscuit, please. What elegant sherry ! [sips a little, and puts down glass on tray]. Do you know, I remember in better days, Mr. Howell, when my poor dear husband ? John. — Beg your pardon. There's Milliken's bell going like mad. [jExit John.] Mrs. Prior. — What an abrupt person ! Oh, but it's com- fortable, this wine is ! And — and I think how my poor Char- lotte would like a little — she so weak, and ordered wine by the medical man ! And when dear Adolphus comes home from Christ's quite tired, poor boy, and hungry, wouldn't a bit of nice cake do him good ! Adolphus is so fond of plum-cake, the darling child ! And so is Frederick, little saucy rogue ; and I'll give them my piece, and keep my glass of wine for my dear delicate angel Shatty ! [Takes bottle and paper out of her pocket, cuts off a great slice of cake, and pours wine from wineglass and decanter into bottle.] Enter Page. Page. — Master George and Miss Bella is going to have their teas down here with Miss Prior, Mrs. Prior, and she's up in the schoolroom, and my lady says you may stop to tea. Mrs. Prior. — Thank you, Charles ! how tall you grow ! Those trousers would fit my darling Frederick to a nicety. Thank you, Charles. / know the way to the nursery. [Exit Mrs. p.] Page. — Know the way ! I believe she do know the way. Been a having cake and wine. Howell always gives her cake and wine — jolly cake, ain't it ! and wine, oh, my ! Re-enter John. John. — You young gormandizing cormorant ! What I five THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 627 meals a day ain't enough for you. What ? beer ain't good enough for you, hey ? S^Pulls boys ears.] Page [cryin^^]. — Oh, oh, do-o-n't, Mr. Howell. I only took half a glass, upon my honor. John. — Your a-honor, you lying young vagabond ! I wonder the ground don't open and swallow you. Half a glass ! [/w/ds up decanter?^ You've took half a bottle, you young Ananias ! Mark this, sir ! When I was a boy, a boy on my promotion, a child kindly took in from charity-school, a horphan in buttons like you, I never lied : no, nor never stole, and you've done both, you little scoundrel. Don't tell me, sir ! there's plums on your coat, crumbs on your cheek, and you smell sherry, sir ! I ain't time to whop you now, but come to my pantry to-night after you've took the tray down. Come without your jacket on, sir, and then I'll teach you what it is to lie and steal. There's the outer-bell. Scud, you vagabond ! Enter Lady K. Lady K. — What was the noise, pray ? John. — A difference between me and young Page, my lady. I was instructing him to keep his hands from picking and steal- ing. I was learning him his lesson, my lady, and he was a-crying it out. Lady K. — It seems to me you are most unkind to that boy, Howell. He is my boy, sir. He comes from my estate. I will not have him ill-used. I think you presume on your long services. I will speak to my son-in-law about you. [" Yes, my lady ; no, my lady ; very good, my lady, jf^ohn has atiswered each sentence as she is speaking, and exit gravely bowing?\^ That man must quit the house. Horace says he can't do without him, but he must do without him. My poor dear Arabella was fond of him, but he presumes on that defunct angel's partiality. Horace says this person keeps all his accounts, sorts all his letters, • manages all his affairs, may be trusted with untold gold, and rescued little George out of the fire. Now I have come to live with my son-in-law, /will keep his accounts, sort his letters, and take charge of his money : and if little Georgy gets into the grate, /will take him out of the fire. What is here ? In- vitation from Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson. Invitation from Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, who don't even ask 7ne f Monstrous ! he never shall go — he shall not go ! [Mrs. Prior has re-entered, she drops a very lota curtsey to Lady K., as the latter, perceiving her, lays the cards do'Wn.'\ t> 628 T//E WOLVES AND THE LAMS. Mrs. Prior. — Ah, dear madam ! how kind your ladyship's message was to the poor lonely widow-woman ! Oh, how thoughtful it was of your ladyship to ask me to stay to tea ! Lady K. — With your daughter and the children ? Indeed, my good Mrs. Prior, you are very welcome ! Mrs, Prior. — Ah ! but isn't it a cause of thankfulness to be made welcome ? Oughtn't I to be grateful for these bless- ings ? — yes, I say blessings. And I am — I am, Lady Kickle- bury — to the mother — of — that angel who is gone \pomts to the picture]. It was your sainted daughter left us — left my child to the care of Mr. Milliken, and — and you, who are now his guardian angel I may say. You are, Lady Kicklebury — you are. I say to my girl, Julia, Lady Kicklebury is Mr. Milliken's guardian angel, is j£'//r guardian angel — for without you could she keep her place as governess to these darling children ? It would tear her heart in two to leave them, and yet she would be forced to do so. You know that some one — shall I hesitate to say whom I mean ? — that Mr. Milliken's mother, excellent lady though she is, does not love my child because you love her. You do love her. Lady Kicklebur)^ and oh ! a mother's fond heart pays you back ! But for you, my poor Julia must go — go, and leave the children whom a dying angel confided to her! Lady K. — O ! no, never ! not whilst / am in this house, Mrs. Prior. Your daughter is a well-behaved young woman : you have confided to me her long engagement to Lieutenant — Lieutenant What-d'you-call'im, in the Indian service. She has been very, very good to my grandchildren — she brought them over from Naples when my — my angel of an Arabella died there, and I will protect Miss Prior. Mrs. Prior. — Bless you, bless you, noble, admirable woman ! Don't take it away ! I must, I will kiss your dear, generous hand ! Take a mother's, a widow's blessings, Lady Kicklebury — the blessings of one who has known misfortune and seen better days, and thanks heaven — yes, heaven ! — for the protec- tors she has found ! Lady K. — You said — you had — several children, I think, my good Mrs. Prior ? Mrs. Prior. — Three boys — one, my eldest blessing, is in a wine-merchant's office — ah, if Mr. Milliken would but give him an order ! an order from this house ! an order from Lady Kicklebury's son-in-law ! — Lady K. — It shall be done, my good Prior — we will see. Mrs. Prior. — Another, Adolphus, dear fellow ! is in Christ's THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 629 Hospital. It was dear, good Mr. Milliken's nomination. Fred' erick is at Merchant Taylor's : my darling Julia pays his school- ing. Besides, I have two girls — Amelia, quite a little toddles, just the size, though not so beautiful — but in a mother's eyes all children are lovely, dear Lady Kicklebury — just the size of your dear granddaughter, whose clothes would fit her, I am sure. And my second, Charlotte, a girl as tall as your ladyship, though not with so fine a figure. " Ah, no, Shatty ! " I say to her, "you are as tall as our dear patroness, Lady Kick- lebury, whom you long so to see ; but you have not got her ladyship's carriage and figure, child." Five children have I, left fatherless and penniless by my poor dear husband — but heaven takes care of the widow and orphan, madam — and heaven's best creatures feed them ! — you know whom I mean. Lady K. — Should you not like, would you object to take — a frock or two of little Arabella's to your child ? and if Pin- horn, my maid, will let me, Mrs. Prior, I will see if I cannot find something against winter for your second daughter, as you say we are of a size. Mrs. Prior. — The widow's and orphans' blessings upon you ! I said my Charlotte was as tall, but I never said she had such a figure as yours — who has t Charles announces — Charles. — Mrs. Bonnington ! [Enter Mrs. Bonnington.] Mrs. B. — How do you do. Lady Kicklebury ? Lady K. — My dear Mrs. Bonnington ! and you come to dinner of course ? Mrs. B. — To dine with my own son, I may take the liberty. How are my grandchildren ? my darling little Emily, is she well, Mrs. Prior. Lady K. [cisidel. — Emily? why does she not call the child by her blessed mother's name of Arabella ? [To Mrs. B.] Arabella is quite well, Mrs. Bonnington. Mr. Squillings said it was nothing ; only her grandmamma Bonnington spoiling her, as usual. Mr. Bonnington and all your numerous young folk are well, I hope ? Mrs. B. — My family are all in perfect health, I thank you. Is Horace come home from the City? Lady K. — Goodness ! there's the dinner-bell, — I must run to dress. Mrs. Prior. — Shall I come with you, dear Lady Kickle* bury? 630 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. Lady K. — Not for worlds, my good Mrs. Prior. \ExU Lady K.] Mrs. Prior. — How do you do, my dear madam .? Is dear Mr. Bonnington qiiite well ? What a sweet, sweet sermon he gave us last Sunday. I often say to my girl, I must not go to hear Mr. Bonnington, I really must not, he makes me cry so. Oh ! he is a great and gifted man, and shall I not have one glimpse of him ? Mrs. B. — Saturday evening, my good Mrs. Prior. Don't you know that my husband never goes out on Saturday, having his sermon to compose ? Mrs. p. — Oh, those dear, dear sermons ! Do you know, madam, that my little Adolphus, for whom your son's bounty procured his place at Christ's Hospital, was very much touched indeed, the dear child, with Mr. Bonnington's discourse last Sunday three weeks, and refused to play marbles afterwards at school ? The wicked, naughty boys beat the poor child ; but Adolphus has his consolation ! Is Master Edward well, ma'am, and Master Robert, and Master Frederick, and dear little funnj Master William ? Mrs. B. — Thank you, Mrs. Prior; you have a good heart, indeed ! Mrs. p. — Ah, what blessings those dears are to you ! I wish your dearest little grandson Mrs. B. — The little naughty wretch ! Do you know, Mrs. Prior, my grandson, George Milliken, spilt the ink over my dear husband's bands, which he keeps in his great dictionary ; and fought with my child, Frederick, who is three years older than George — actually beat his own uncle ! Mrs. p. — Gracious mercy ! Master Frederick was not hurt, I hope ? Mrs. B. — No ; he cried a great deal ; and then Robert came up, and that graceless little George took a stick ; and then my husband came out, and do you know George Milliken actually kicked Mr. Bonnington on his shins, and butted him like a little naughty ram .'' Mrs. p. — Mercy ! mercy ! what a little rebel ! He is spoiled, dear madam, and you know by tuhom. Mrs. B. — By his grandmamma Kicklebury. I know it. I want my son to whip that child, but he refuses. He will come to no good, that child. Mrs. p. — Ah, madam ! don't say so ! Let us hope for the best. Master George's high temper will subside when certain persons who pet him are gone away. THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. g^l Mrs. B, — Gone away ! they never will go away ! No, mark my words, Mrs. Prior, that woman will never go away. She has made the house her own : she commands everything and everybody in it. She has driven me — me — Mr, Milliken's own mother — almost out of it. She has so annoyed my dear hus- band, that Mr. Bonnington will scarcely come here. Is she not always sneering at private tutors, because Mr. Bonnington was my son's private tutor, and greatly valued by the late Mr. Milliken ? Is she not making constant allusions to old women marrying young men, because Mr. Bonnington happens to be younger than me ? I have no words to express my indignation respecting Lady Kicklebury. She never pays any one, and runs up debts in the whole town. Herman Bulkeley's conduct in the neighborhood is quite — quite • Mrs. B. — Gracious goodness, ma'am, you don't, say so ! And then what an appetite the gormandizing monster has ! Mary tells me that what he eats in the servants' hall is some- thing perfectly frightful. Mrs. B. — Everybody feeds on my poor son ! You are looking at my cap, Mrs. Prior ? ^During this time Mrs. Prior has been peering into a parcel which Mrs. Bonnington brought in her hand.'] I brought it with me across the Park. I could not walk through the Park in my cap. Isn't it a pretty ribbon, Mrs. Prior.? Mrs. p. — Beautiful ! beautiful ! How blue becomes you ! Who would think you were the mother of Mr. Milliken and seven other darling children .? You can afford what Lady Kicklebury cannot. Mrs. B, — And what is that, Prior ? A poor clergyman's wife, with a large family, cannot afford much. Mrs. p. — He ! he ! You can afford to be seen as you are, which Lady K. cannot. Did you not remark how afraid she seemed lest I should enter her dressing-room > Only Pinhorn, her maid, goes there, to arrange the roses, and the lilies, and the figure — he ! he ! Oh, what a sweet, sweet cap-ribbon ! When you have worn it, and are tired of it, you will give it me, won't you? It will be good enough for poor old Martha Prior ! Mrs. B.— Do you really like it .? Call at Gfeenwood Place^ Mrs. Prior, the next time you pay Richmond a visit, and bring your little girl with you, and we will see. Mrs. P.— Oh, thank you ! thank you ! Nay, don't be of- fended ! I must ! I must ! [Kisses Mrs. Bonnington.] Mrs. B. — There, there ! We must not stay chattering I The bell has rung. I must go and put the cap on, Mrs. Prion 632 TtTE WOLVES AND THE LAMB Mrs. p. — And I may come, too ? You are not afraid of my seeing your hair, dear Mrs. Bonnington ! Mr. Bonnington too young for j'^« / Why, you don't look twenty ! Mrs. B. — Oh, Mrs. Prior ! Mrs. p. — Well, five-and-twenty, upon my word — not more than five-and-twenty — and that is the very prime of life ! \_Ex- eutit Mrs. B. and Mrs. P. hand in /ia?id. As Captain Touchit enters dressed for dm?ter, he bo7vs a7id passes onJ] Touchit. — So, we are to wear our white cravats, and our varnished boots, and dine in ceremony. What is the use of a man being a widower, if he can't dine in his shooting-jacket ? Poor Mill ! He has the slavery now without the wife. \I/g speaks sarcastically to the picture^ Well, well ! Mrs. Milliken ! You, at any rate, are gone ; and, with the utmost respect for you, I like your picture even better than the original. Miss Prior ! Enter Miss Prior. Miss Prior. — I beg pardon. I thought you were gone to dinner. I heard the second bell some time since. [,5"/;^ is drawing back?^ Touchit. — Stop ! I say, Julia ! \She returns, he looks at her, takes her hand.'] Why do you dress yourself in this odd poky way .'' You used to be a very smartly dressed girl. Why do you hide your hair, and wear such a dowdy, high gown, Julia .-* Julia. — You mustn't call me Julia, Captain Touchit. Touchit. — Why .'' when I lived in your mother's lodging, I called you Julia. When you brought up the tea, you didn't mind being called Julia. When we used to go to the play with the tickets the Editor gave us, who lived on the second floor Julia. — The wretch ! — don't speak of him ! Touchit. — Ah ! I am afraid he was a sad deceiver, that Editor. He was a very clever fellow. What droll songs he used to sing ! What a heap of play-tickets, diorama-tickets, concert-tickets, hg used to give you ! Did he touch your heart, Julia ? Julia. — Fiddlededee ! No man ever touched my heart, Captain Touchit. Touchit. — What ! not even Tom Flight, who had the second floor after the Editor left it — and who cried so bitterly at the idea of going out to India without you ? You had a tendre for him — a little passion — you know you had. Why, THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. (^2,7, even the ladies here know it. Mrs. Bonnington told me that you were waiting for a sweetheart in India, to whom you were engaged ; and Lady Kicklebury thinks you are dying in love for the absent swain. Julia. — I hope — I hope — you did not contradict them, Cap- tain Touchit. ToucHiT. — Why not, my dear ? Julia. — May I be frank with you ? You were a kind, very kind friend to us — to me, in my youth. Touchit. — I paid my lodgings regularly, and my bills with- out asking questions. I never weighed the tea in the caddy, or counted the lumps of sugar, or heeded the rapid consumption of my liqueur Julia. — -Hush, hush ! I know they were taken. I know you were very good to us. You helped my poor papa out of many a difficulty. Touchit \aside\. — Tipsy old coal merchant ! I did, and he helped himself too. Julia. — And you were always our best friend. Captain Touchit. When our misfortunes came, you got me this situa- tion with Mrs. Milliken — and, and — don't you see ? Touchit — Well — what t Julia \laiighing\. — I think it is best, under the circum- stances, that the ladies here should suppose I am engaged to be married — or — or, they might be — might be jealous, you un- derstand. Women are sometimes jealous of others, — especially mothers and mothers-in-law. Touchit. — Oh, you arch-schemer ! And it is for that you cover up that beautiful hair of yours, and wear that demure cap ? Julia \slyly\. — I am subject to rheumatism in the head, Captain Touchit. Touchit. — It is for that you put on the spectacles, and make yourself look a hundred years old .'' Julia. — My eyes are weak, Captain Touchit. Touchit. — Weak with weeping for Tom Flight. You hypo- crite ! Show me your eyes ? Miss P. — Nonsense ! Touchit. — Show me your eyes, I say, or I'll tell about Tom Flight, and that he has been married at Madras these two years. Miss P. — Oh, you horrid man ! \takes glasses off^ There. Touchit. — Translucent orbs ! beams of flashing light ! lovely lashes veiling celestial brightness ! No, they haven't 634 7*^-^ WOLVES AND THE LAMB. cried much for Tom Flight, that faithless captain ! nor for Law* rence O'Reilly, that killing Editor. It is lucky you keep the glasses on them, or they would transfix Horace Milliken, my friend the widower here. Do you always wear them when you are alone with him ? Miss P. — I never am alone with him. Bless me ! If Lady Kicklebury thought my eyes were — well, well — you know what I mean, — if she thought her son-in-law looked at me, I should be turned out of doors the next day, I am sure I should. And then, poor Mr. Milliken ! he never looks at me — heaven help him ! Why, he can't see me for her ladyship's nose and awful caps and ribbons ! He sits and looks at the portrait yonder, and sighs so. He thinks that he is lost in grief for his wife at this very moment. ToucHiT. — What a woman that was — eh, Julia — that de parted angel ! What a temper she had before her departure ! Miss P. — But the wind was tempered to the lamb. If she was angry — the lamb was so very lamblike, and meek, and fieecy. ToucHiT. — And what a desperate flirt the departed angel was ! I knew half a dozen fellows, before her marriage, whom she threw over, because Milliken was so rich. Miss P. — She was consistent at least, and did not change after marriage, as some ladies do ; but flirted, as you call it, just as much as before. At Paris, young Mr. Verney, the at- tach^, was never out of the house : at Rome, Mr. Beard, the artist, was always drawing pictures of her: at Naples, when poor Mr. M. went away to look after his affairs at St. Peters- burg, little Count Posilippo was forever coming to learn English and practise duets. She scarcely ever saw the poor children — [changing her manner as Lady Kicklebury enters] Hush — my lady I ToucHiT. — You may well say, " poor children," deprived of such a woman ! Miss Prior, whom I knew in very early days — as your ladyship knows — was speaking — was speaking of the loss our poor friend sustained. Lady K. — Ah, sir, what a loss ! [looking at the picture.'] TouCHiT. — What a woman she was — what a superior crea- ture ! Lady K. — A creature — an angel 1 ToucHiT. — Mercy upon us 1 how she and my lady used to quarrel ! \(iside.'\ What a temper ! Lady K. — Hm — oh, yes — what a temper \rather doubtfully atjirst\ THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 635 TouCHiT. — What a loss to Milliken and the darling children ! Miss Prior.— Luckily they have jv?/r with them, madam. Lady K. — And I will stay with them, Miss Prior ; I will stay with them ! I will never part from Horace, I am de- termined. Miss P. — Ah ! I am very glad you stay, for if I had noiyou for a protector I think you know I must go, Lady Kicklebury. I think you know there are those who would forget my attach- ment to these darling children, my services to — to her — and dismiss the poor governess. But while you stay I can stay, dear Lady Kicklebury ! With you to defend me from jealousy I need not quite be afraid. Lady K. — Of Mrs. Bonnington ? Of Mr. Milliken's mother ; of the parson's wife who writes out his stupid sermons, and has half a dozen children of her own t I should think not indeed ! / am the natural protector of these children. / am their mother, /have no husband! You staym. this house, Miss Prior, You are a faithful, attached creature — though you were sent in by somebody I don't like very much Sj'ointing to ToucHiT, who went off laughmg when Julia began her speech, and is fiow looking at prints, &'C., in the next rooni\. Miss P. — Captain Touchit may not be in all things what one could wish. But his kindness has formed the happiness of my life in making me acquainted with you, ma'am : and I am sure you would not have me be ungrateful to him. Lady K. — A most highly principled young woman \Goes out i). garde?i and walks up and down with Captain Touchit.] Enter Mrs. Bonnington. Miss P. — Oh, how glad I am you are come, Mrs. Bonning- ton. Have you brought me that pretty hymn you promised me ? You always keep your promises, even to poor governesses. I read dear Mr. Bonnington's sermon ! It was so interesting that I really could not think of going to sleep until I had read it all through ; it was delightful, but oh ! it's still better when he preaches it ! I hope I did not do wrong in copying a part of it ? I wish to impress it on the children. There are some worldly influences at work with them, dear madam [looking at Lady K. in the gardefi], which I do my feeble effort to — to modify. I wish you could come oftener. Mrs. B. — I will try, my dear — I will try. Emily has swe«»t dispositions. i 636 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB, Mrs. p. — Ah, she takes after her grandmamma Bonning- ton ! Mrs. B. — But George was sadly fractious just now in the schoolroom because I tried him with a tract. Miss P. — Let us hope for better times ! Do be with your children, dear Mrs. Bonnington, as constantly as ever you can, for viy sake as well as theirs ! /want protection and advice as well as they do. The governess, dear lady, looks up to you as well as the pupils ; she wants the teaching which you and dear Mr. Bonnington can give her! Ah, why could not Mr. and Mrs. Bonnington come and live here, I often think ? The children would have companions in their dear young uncles and aunts ; so pleasant it would be. The house i-s quite large enough ; that is, if her ladyship did not occupy the three south rooms in the left wing. Ah, why, why couldn't you come ? Mrs. B. — You are a kind, affectionate creature. Miss Prior. I do not very much like the gentleman who recommended you to Arabella, you know. But I do think he sent my son a good governess for his children. Two Ladies walk up and down in front garden. Touch IT enters. ToucHiT. — Miss Julia Prior, you are a wonder ! I watch you with respect and surprise. Miss P. — Me ! what have I done ? a poor friendless gover- ness — respect me? ToucHiT. — I have a mind to tell those two ladies what I think of Miss Julia Prior. If they knew you as I know you, O Julia Prior, what a short reign yours would be ! Miss P. — I have to manage them a little. Each separately it is not so difficult. But when they are together, oh, it is very hard sometimes. Efiter MiLLiKEN dressed, shakes hands with Miss P. MiLLiKEN. — Miss Prior ! are you well ? Have the children been good ? and learned all their lessons ? Miss P. — The children are pretty good, sir. MiLLiKEN. — Well, that's a great deal as times go. Do not bother them with too much learning, Miss Prior. Let thena have an easy life. Time enough for trouble when age comes. Enter John. John. — Dinner, sir. \And exit^ THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB 637 MiLLiKEN. — Dinner, ladies. My Lady Kicklebury (^givei arm to Lady K). Lady K. — My dear Horace, you shouldn't shake hands with Miss Prior, You should keep people of that class at a dis- tance, my dear creature. \TJiey go in to dinjier, Captain Tou- ch it j^///^ with Mrs. Bonnington. As they go out, enter Mary with children's tea-tray, df'c, children following, afid after them Mrs. Prior. Mary gi^es her tea.] Mrs. Prior. — Thank you, Mary ! You are so very kind 1 Oh, what delicious tea ! Georgy. — I say, Mrs. Prior, I dare say you would like to dine best, wouldn't you ? Mrs. p. — Bless you, my darling love, I had my dinner at one o'clock with my children at home. Georgy. — So had we : but we go in to dessert very often ; and then don't we have cakes and oranges and candied-peel and macaroons and things ! We are not to go in to-day ; be- cause Bella ate so many strawberries she made herself ill. Bella. — So did you. Georgy. — I'm a man, and men eat more than women, twice as much as women. When I'm a man I'll eat as much cake as ever I like. I say, Mary, give us the marmalade. Mrs. p. — Oh, what nice marmalade ! / know of some poor children Miss P. — Mamma ! don't mamma [/;/ an imploring tone\ Mrs. p. — I know of two poor children at home, who have very seldom nice marmalade and cake, young people. George. — You mean Adolphus and Frederick and Amelia, your children. Well, they shall have marmalade and cake. Bella. — Oh, yes! I'll give them mine. Mrs. p. — Darling, dearest child ! George ( his juouthfull). — I wont give 'em mine : but they can have another pot, you know. You have always got a basket with you, Mr. Prior. I know you have. You had it that day you took the cold fowl. Mrs. p. — For the poor blind black man ! oh, how thankful he was ! George. — I don't know whether it was for a black man. Mary, get us another pot of marmalade. Mary. — I don't know. Master George. George. — I will have another pot of marmalade. If you don't, I'll — I'll smash every^thing — I will, Bella. — Oh, you naughty, rude boy ! George, — Hold your tongue ! I will have it, Mary shall go and get it. 638 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. Mrs. p. — Do humor him, Mary ; and I'm sure my pool children at home will be the better for it. George. — There's your basket ! now put this cake in, and this pat of butter, and this sugar. Hurray, hurray ! Oh, what jolly fun ! Tell Adolphus and Amelia I sent it to them — tell 'em they shall never want for anything as long as George Kickle- bury Milliken, Esq., can give it 'em. Did Adolphus like my gray coat that I didn't want ? Miss P. — You did not give him your new gray coat .-• George. — Don't you speak to me ; I'm going to school— I'm not going to have no more governesses soon. Mrs. p. — Oh, my dear Master George, what a nice coat it is, and how-well my poor boy looked in it ! Miss P. — Don't, mamma ! I pray and entreat you not to take the things ! Enter ]oKN/rom dining-room with a tray. John. — Some cream, some jelly, a little champagne. Miss Prior ; I thought you might like some. George. — Oh, jolly ! give us hold of the jelly ! give us a glass of champagne. John. — I will not give you any. George. — I'll smash every glass in the room if you don't ; I'll cut my fingers ; I'll poison myself — there ! I'll eat all this sealing-wax if you don't, and it's rank poison, you know it is. Mrs. p. — My dear Master George ! \^Exit John.] George. — Ha, ha ! I knew you'd give it me ; another boy taught me that. Bella. — And a very naughty, rude boy. George. — He, he, he ! hold your tongue. Miss ! And said he always got wine so ; and so I used to do it to my poor mam- ma. Miss Prior. Usedn't to like mamma much. Bella. — Oh, you wicked boy ! George. — She usedn't to see us much. She used to say I tired her nerves : what's nerves. Miss Prior ? Give us some more champagne ! Will have it. Ha, ha, ha ! ain't it jolly ? Now I'll go out and have a run in the garden. \JR.uns into garden^ Mrs. p. — And you, my dear ? Bella. — I shall go and resume the perusal of the " Pilgrim's Progress," which my grandpapa, Mr. Bonnington, sent me. \Exit Arabella.] Miss P. — How those children are spoilt ! Goodness, what THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 639 can I do ? If I correct one, he flies to grandmamma Kicklebury j if I speak to another, she appeals to grandmamma Bennington, When I was alone with them, I had them in something like order. Now, between the one grandmother and the other, the children are going to ruin, and so would the house too, but that Howell — that odd, rude, but honest and intelligent creature, I must say — keeps it up. It is wonderful how a person in his rank of life should have instructed himself so. He really knows — I really think he knows more than I do myself, Mrs. p. — Julia dear ! Miss P. — What is it, mamma? Mrs. p. — Your little sister wants some underclothing sadly, Julia dear, and poor Adolphus's shoes are quite worn out. Miss P. — I thought so ; I have given you all I could, mamma. Mrs. p. — Yes, my love ! you are a good love, and gener- ous, heaven knows, to your poor old mother who has seen bet- ter days. If we had not wanted, would I have ever allowed you to be a governess — a poor degraded governess ? If that brute O'Reilly who lived on our second floor had not behaved so shamefully wicked to you, and married Miss Flack, the singer, might you not have been Editress of the Champion of Liberty at this very moment, and had your Opera box every night ? \She drinks champagne while talking, and excites herself]. Miss P. — Don't take that, mamma. Mrs. p. — Don't take it .^ why, it costs nothing ; Milliken can afford it. Do you suppose I get champagne every day ? I might have had it as a girl when I first married your father, and we kep' our gig and horse, and lived at Clapham, and had the best of everything. But the coal trade is not what it was, Julia, and we met with misfortunes, Julia, and we went into poverty : and your poor father went into the Bench for twenty- three months — two year all but a month he did — and my poor girl was obliged to dance at the " Coburg Theatre " — ■ yes, you were, at ten shillings a week, in the Oriental ballet of "The Bulbul and the Rose : " you were, my poor darling child. Miss P. — Hush, hush, mamma ! Mrs. p. — And we kep' a lodging-house in Bury Street, St. James's, which your father's brother furnished for us, who was an extensive oil merchant. He brought you up ; and afterwards he quarrelled with my poor James, Robert Prior did, and he died, not leaving us a shilling. And my dear eldest boy went into a wine-merchant's office : and my poor darling Julia became a governess, when you had had the best of education at Clap 640 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. ham ; you had, JuUa. And to think that you were obliged, my blessed thing, to go on in the Oriental ballet of " The Rose and the Bui " Miss P. — Mamma, hush, hush ! forget that story. Enter V3.gefrofn dining-room. Page. — Miss Prior ! please, the ladies are coming from the dining-room. Mrs. B. have had her two glasses of port, and her ladyship is now a-tellingthe story about the Prince of Wales when she danced with him at Carlton House. \jExit Page.] Miss P. — Quick, quick ! There, take your basket ! Put on your bonnet, and good-night, mamma. Here, here is a half- sovereign and three shillings ; it is all the money I have in the world ; take it, and buy the shoes for Adolphus. Mrs. p. — And the underclothing, my love — little Amelia's underclothing ? Miss P. — We will see about it. Good-night \Jiisscs her\. Don't be seen here, — Lady K. doesn't like it. Enter Gentlemen and Ladies yr^wz dining-room. Lady K. — We follow the Continental fashion. We don't sit after dinner, Captain Touchit. Captain T. — Confound the Continental fashion ! I like to sit a little while after dinner \_aside\. Mrs. B. — So does my dear Mr. Bonnington, Captain Touch- it. He likes a little port-wine after dinner. Touchit. — I'm not surprised at it, ma'am. Mrs. B. — When did you say your son was coming. Lady Kicklebury ? Lady K. — My Clarence ! He will be here immediately, I hope, the dear boy. You know my Clarence ? Touchit. — Yes, ma'am. Lady K. — And like him, I'm sure. Captain Touchit ! Every^ body does like Clarence Kicklebury. Touchit. — The confounded young scamp ! I say, Horace, do you like your brother-in-law ? MiLLiKEN. — Well — I — I can't say — I — like him — in fact, I don't. But that's no reason why his mother shouldn't. \Dnring this, Howell preceded by Bulkeley, hands round coffee. The garden 7vithout has darkened, as of evetiing. Bulkeley is going away 7vithout offering coffee to Miss Prior. John sta^nps on his foot, afid points to her. Captain Touchit laughing, goes up and tatks to her noio the servants are gofie.] THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 641 Mrs. B. — Horace ! I must tell you that the waste at your table is shocking. What is the need of opening all this wine ? You and Lady Kicklebury were the only persons who took champagne. ToucHiT. — I never drink it — never touch the rubbish ! Too old a stager ! Lady K. — Port, I think, is your favorite, Mrs. Bonnington ? Mrs. B. — My dear lady, I do not mean that you should not have champagne, if you like. Pray, pray, don't be angry ! But why on earth, for you, who take so Kttle, and Horace, who only drinks it to keep you company, should not Howell open a pint instead of a great large bottle ? Lady K. — Oh, Howell ! Howell ! We must not mention Howell, my dear Mrs. Bonnington. Howell is faultless. Howell has the keys of everything ! Howell is not to be controlled in anything ! Howell is to be at liberty to be rude to my servant ! MiLLiKEN. — Is that all ? I am sure I should have thought your man was big enough to resent any rudeness from poor little Howell. Lady K. — Horace ! Excuse me for saying that you don't know — the — the class of servant to whom Bulkelev belongs. I had him, as a great favor, from Lord Toddleby. That class of servant is accustomed generally not to go out single. MiLLiKEN. — Unless they are two behind a carriage-perch they pine away, as one love-bird does without his mate ! Lady K. — No doubt ! no doubt ! I only say you are not accustomed here — in this kind of establishment, you understand • — to that class of Mrs. B. — Lady Kicklebury ! is my son's establishment not good enough for any powdered monster in England ? Is the house of a British merchant .-' Lady K. — My dear creature ! my dear creature ! it is the house of a British merchant, and a very comfortable house. Mrs. B. — Yes, as you find it. Lady K. — Yes, as I find it, when I come to take care of my departed angel's children, Mrs. Bonnington — \_pomting to pict7(re\ — of that dear seraph's orphans, Mrs. Bonnington. You cannot. You have other duties — other children — a husband at home in delicate health, who Mrs. B. — Lady Kicklebury, no one shall say I don't take care of my dear husband ! Milliken. — My dear mother ! My dear Lady Kicklebury ! [To T., w/io has come forwardP[ They spar so every night they meet, Touchit. Ain't it hard ? 642 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. Lady K. — I say you do take care of Mr. Bonnington, Mrs., Bonnington, my dear creature ! and that is why you can't attend to Horace. And as he is of a very easy temper — except some- times with his poor Arabella's mother — he allows all his trades- men to cheat him, all his servants to cheat him, Howell to be rude to everybody — to me amongst other people, and why not to my servant Bulkeley, with whom Lord Toddleby's groom of the chambers gave me the very highest character. Mrs. B. — I'm surprised that noblemen /^7zr grooms in their chambers. I should think they were much better in the stables. I am sure I always think so when we dine with Doctor Clinker. His man does bring such a smell of the stable with him. Lady K. — He ! he ! you mistake, my dearest creature ! Your poor mother mistakes, my good Horace. You have lived in a quiet and most respectable sphere— but not — not Mrs. B, — Not what. Lady Kicklebury ? We have lived at Richmond twenty years — in my late husband's iime — when we saw a great deal of company, and when this dear Horace was a dear boy at Westminster School. And we have paid for everything we have had for twenty years, and we have owed not a penny to any tradesman, though we mayn't have had powdered footmen six feet high, who were impertinent to all the maids in the place Don't! Iwi/l speak, Horace — but ser- vants who loved us, and who lived in our families. MiLLiKEN. — Mamma, now, my dear, good old mother ! I am sure Lady Kicklebury meant no harm. Lady K. — Me ! my dear Horace ! harm ! What harm could I mean ? MiLLiKEN. — Come ! let us have a game at whist. Touchit, will you make a fourth ? They go on so every night almost. Ain't it a pity, now ? Touchit. — Miss Prior generally plays, doesn't she ? MiLLiKEN. — And a very good player, too. But I thought you might like it. Touchit. — Well, not exactly. I don't like sixpenny points, Horace, or quarrelling with old dragons about the odd trick. I will go and smoke a cigar on the terrace, and contemplate the silver Thames, the darkling woods, the starry hosts of heaven. I — I like smoking better than playing whist. [Mil- liken rings l>ei/^ Milliken. — Ah, George ! you're not fit for domestic fe« licity. Touchit. — No, not exactly. THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 643 Howell enters. MiLLiKEN. — Lights and a whist-table. Oh, I see you bring 'em. You know everything I want. He knows everything I want, Howell does. Let us cut. Miss Prior, you and I are partners ! ACT II. Scene.— ^j before. Lady K. — Don't smoke, you naughty boy. 1 don't like it. Besides it will encourage your brother-in-law to smoke, Clarence K.— Anything to oblige you, I'm sure. But can't do without it, mother ; it's good for my health. When I was in the Plungers, our doctor used to say, " You ought never to smoke more than eight cigars a day "—an order, you know, to do it--don't you see ? Lady K. — Ah, my child ! I am very glad you are not with those unfortunate people in the East. K.— So am I. Sold out just in time. Much better fun being here, than having the cholera at Scutari. Nice house, Milliken's. Snob, but good fellow — good cellar, doosid good cook. Really that salmi yesterday, — couldn't have it better done at the " Rag " now. You have got into good quarters here, mother. Lady K. — The meals are very good, and the house is very good ; the manners are not of the first order. But what can you expect of city people ? I always told your poor dear sister, when she married Mr. Milliken, that she might look for every- thing substantial, — but not manners. Poor dear Arabella would vcizxxy him. K.— Would ! that is a good one, mamma ! Why, you made her ! It's a dozen years ago. But I recollect, when I came home from Eton, seeing her crying because Charley Tufton ■ Lady K. — Mr. Tufton had not a shilling to bless himself with. The marriage was absurd and impossible. K. — He hadn't a shilling then. I guess he has plenty now. Elder brother killed, out hunting. Father dead. Tuf a baro- net, with four thousand a year if he's a shilling. D44 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. Lady K. — Not so Miuch. K.— Four thousand if it's a shilling. Why, the property adjoins Kicklebury's — I ought to know. I've shot over it a thousand times. Heh ! / remember, when I was quite a young 'un, how Arabella used to go out into Tufton Park to meet Charley— and he is a doosid good fellow, and a gentlemanlike fellow, and a doosid deal better than this city fellow. Lady K. — If you don't like this city fellow, Clarence, why do you come here ? why didn't you stop with your elder brother at Kicklebury ? K. — Why didn't I ? Why didn't yon stop at Kicklebury, mamma .'' Because you had notice to quit. Serious daughter- in-law, quarrels about management of the house — row in the building. My brother interferes, and politely requests mamma to shorten her visit. .So it is with your other two daughters ; so it was with Arabella when she was alive. What shindies you used to have with her, Lady Kicklebury ! Heh ! I had a row with my brother and sister about a confounded little nursery-maid. Lady K. — -Clarence ! K.— And so I had notice to quit too. And I'm in very good quarters here, and I intend to stay in 'em, mamma. 1 say Lady K. — What do you say. K. — 'Since I sold out, you know, and the regiment went abroad, confound me, the brutes at the " Rag " will hardly speak to me ! I was so ill I couldn't go. Who the doose can live the life I've led and keep health enough for that infernal Crimea ? Besides, how could I help it ? I was so cursedly in debt that I was obliged to have the money, you know. You hadn't got any. Lady K. — Not a halfpenny, my darling. I am dreadfully in debt myself. K. — I know you are. So am I. My brother wouldn't give me any, rot a dump. Hang him ! Said he had Ins children to look to. Milliken wouldn't advance me any more — said I did him in that horse transaction. He ! he ! he ! so I did ! What had I to do but to sell out ? And the fellows cut me, by Jove. Ain't it too bad ? I'll take my name off the " Rag," I will, though. Lady K. — We must sow our v/ild oats, and we must sober down ; and we must live here, where the living is very good and very cheap, Clarence, you naughty boy ! And we must get you a rich wife. Did you see at church yesterday that THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 645 young woman in light-green, with rather red hair and a pink' bonnet ? K. — I was asleep, ma'am, most of the time, or I was bookin' up the odds for the Chester Cup. When I'm bookin' up, I think of nothin' else, ma'am, nothin'. Lady K. — That was Miss Brocksopp — Briggs, Brown and Brocksopp, the great sugar-bakers. They say she will have eighty thousand pound. We will ask her to dinner here. K. — I say — why the doose do you have such old women to dinner here .'' Why don't you get some pretty girls ? Such a set of confounded old frumps as eat Milliken's mutton I never saw. There's you, and his old mother Mrs. Bonnington, and old Mrs. Fogram, and old Miss What's-her-name, the woman with the squint eye, and that immense Mrs. Crowder. It's so stoopid, that if it weren't for Touchit coming down sometimes, and the billiards and boatin', I should die here — expire, by gad ! Why don't you have some pretty women into the house, Lady Kicklebury ? Lady K. — Why ! Do you think I want that picture taken down : and another Mrs. Milliken ? Wisehead ! If Horace married again, would he be your banker, and keep this house, now that ungrateful son of mine has turned me out of his ? No prettv woman shall come into the house whilst I am here. K. — Governess seems a pretty woman : weak eyes, bad figure, poky, badly dressed, but doosid pretty woman. Lady K. — Bah ! There is no danger from her. She is a most faithful creature, attached to me beyond everything. And her eyes — her eyes are weak with crying for some young man who is in India. She has his miniature in her room, locked up in one of her drawers. K. — Then how the doose did you come to see it ? Lady K. — We see a number of things, Clarence. Will you drive with me ? K. — Not as I knows on, thank you. No, Ma ; drivin's too slow : and you're goin' to call on two or three old dowagers in the Park ? Thank your ladyship for the delightful offer. Enter John. John. — Please, sir, here's the man with the bill for the boats ; two pound three. K. — Damn it, pay it — don't bother me ! John. — Haven't got the money, sir. Lady K. — Howell ! I saw Mr. Mii'jken give yqu a check 646 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. for twenty-five pounds before he went into town this morning. Look, sir \runs, opens the drawer, takes out check-book\ There it is, marked, " Howell, 25/." John. — Would your ladyship like to step down into my pantry and see what I've paid with the twenty-five pounds ? Did my master leave any orders that your ladyship was to inspect my accounts ? Lady K. — Step down into the pantry ! inspect your ac- counts ? I never heard such impertinence. What do you jnean, sir ? K. — Dammy, sir, what do you medn ? John. — I thought as her ladyship kept a heye over my master's private book, she might like to look at mine too. Lady K. — Upon my word, this insolence is too much. John. — I beg your ladyship's pardon. I am sure I have said nothing. K. — Said, sir ! your manner is mutinous, by Jove, sir ! If I had you in the regiment ! John. — I understood that you had left the regiment, sir, just before it went on the campaign, sir. K. — Confound you, sir ! \Starts up?\ Lady K. — Clarence, my child, my child ! John. — Your ladyship needn't be alarmed ; I'm a little man, my lady, but I don't think Mr. Clarence was a-goin' for to hit me, my lady ; not before a lady, I'm sure. I suppose, sir, that you won't pay the boatman.? K. — No, sir, I won't pay him, nor any man who uses this sort of damned impertinence ! John. — I told Rullocks, sir, I thought it was jnst possible you wouldn't. \Exit^ K. — That's a nice man, that is — an impudent villain ! Lady K. — Ruined by Horace's weakness. He ruins every- body, poor good-naturecl Horace ! K. — Why don't you get rid of the blackguard ? Lady K. — There is a time for all things, my dear. This man is very convenient to Horace, Mr. Milliken is exceedingly lazy, and Howell spares him a great deal of trouble. Some day or other I shall take all this domestic trouble off his hands. But not yet : your poor biother-in-lawis restive, like many weak "men. He is subjected to other influences : his odious mother thwarts me a great deal. K — Why, you used to be the dearest friends in the world. I recollect when I was at Eton Lady K. — Were; but friendship don't last forever. Mrs. THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 647 Bennington and I have had s-erious differences since I came to live here : she has a natural jealous}^, perhaps, at my superin- tending her son's affairs. When she ceases to visit at the house, as she very possibly will, things will go more easily; and INIr. Howell will go too, you may depend upon it. I am always sorry when my temper breaks out, as it will sometimes. K.— Won't it, that's all ! Lady K. — At his insolence, my temper is high ; so is yours, my dear. Calm it for the present, especially as regards Howell. K. — Gad ! d'you know I was very nearly pitching into him ? But once, one night in the Haymarket, at a lobster-shop, where I was with some fellows, we chaffed some other fellows, and there was one fellah — quite a little fellah — and I pitched into him, and he gave me the most confounded lickin' I ever had in my life, since my brother Kicklebury licked me when we were at Eton ; and that, you see, was a lesson to me, ma'am. Never trust those little fellows, never chaff 'em : dammy, they may be boxers. Lady K. — You quarrelsome boy ! I remember you coming home with your naughty head so bruised. \Looks at watchi] I must go now to take my drive. \,Exit Lady K.] K. — I owe a doose of a tick at that billiard room ; I shall have that boatman dunnin' me. Why hasn't Milliken got any horses to ride "i Hang him ! suppose he can't ride — suppose he's a tailor. He ain't my tailor though, though I owe him a doosid deal of money. There goes mamma with that darling nephew and niece of mine. \Enter Bulkeley.] Why haven't you gone with my lady, you, sir ? \to Bulkeley\. Bulkeley. — My lady have a-took the pony-carriage, sir ; Mrs. Bonnington have a-took the hopen carriage and 'orses, sir, this mornin', which the Bishop of London is 'olding a confir- mation at Teddington, sir, and Mr. Bonnington is attending the serimony. And I have told Mr. 'Owell, sir, that my lady would prefer the hopen carriage, sir, which I like the hexercise my- self, sir, and that the pony-carriage was good enough for Mrs. Bonnington, sir ; and Mr. 'Owell was very hinsolent to me, sir; and I don't think I can stay in the 'ouse with him. K. — Hold your jaw, sir. Bulkeley. — Yes, sir. \Exit Bulkeley.] K. — I wonder who that governess is? — sang rather pretty last night — wish she'd come and sing now — wish she'd come and amuse me — I've seen her face before — where have I seen her face ? — it ain't at all a bad one. What shall I, do ? dammy, 648 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMS. I'll read a book : I've not read a book this ever so long. What's here ? \looks amongst books ^ selects one, sinks down m easy chair so as quite to be lost\. Efiter Miss Prior. Miss Prior. — There's peace in the house ! those noisy children are away with their grandmamma. The weather is beautiful, and I hoj^e they will take a long drive. Now I can have a quiet half-hour, and finish that dear pretty " Ruth " — oh, how it makes me cry, that pretty story. [Lays down her bonnet on table- — goes to glass — takes off cap and spectacles — arranges her liair-^Clarcnce has got on chair lookifig at her?[ K.— By Jove ! I know who it is now ! Remember her as well as possible. Four years ago, when little Foxbury used to dance in the ballet over the water. Don't I remember her ! She boxed my ears behind the scenes, by jingo. \Coming for- ward^ Miss Pemberton ! Star of the ballet ! Light of the harem ! Don't you remember the grand Oriental ballet of the " Bulbul and the Peri ? " Miss P. Oh ! \screams?^ No, n — no, sir. You are mis- taken : my name is Prior. I — never was at the " Coburg Theatre." I K. \_seiz-ing her hand.'] — No, you don't, though ! What ! don't you remember well that little hand slapping this face } which nature hadn't then adorned with whiskers, by gad ! You pretend you have forgotten little Foxbury, whom Charley Cal- verley used to come after, and who used to drive to the " Coburg " every night in her brougham. How did you know it was the " Coburg ? " That is a good one ! Had you there, I think. Miss P. — Sir, in the name of heaven, pity me ! I have to keep my mother and my sisters and my brothers. When — • when you saw me, we were in great poverty ; and almost all the wretched earnings I made at that time were given to my poor father then lying in the Queen's Bench hard by. You know there was nothing against my character — you know there 'vas not. Ask Captain Touchit whether I was not a good girl. It was he who brought mc to this house. K. — Touchit ! the old villain ! Miss P. — I had your sister's confidence. I tended her abroad on her death-bed. I have brought up )^our nephew and niece. Ask any one if I have not been honest ? As a man. as a gentleman, I entreat you to keep my secret ! I implore you for the sake of my poor mother and her children ! [kfieeling.^ THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 649' K. — By Jove ! how handsome you are ! How crying be- comes your eyes ! Get up ; get up. Of course I'll keep your secret, but Alrss P. — Ah ! ah I \_Shc screams as he tries to embrace her, Howell rushes m.^ Howell, — Hands off, you little villain ! Stir a step, and I'll kill you, if you were a regiment of captains ! What ! insult this lady who kept watch at your sister's death-bed and has took charge of her children ! Don't be frightened. Miss Prior, Julia — dear, dear Julia — I'm by you. If the scoundrel touches you, I'll kill him. I — I love you— there — it's here — love you madly — with all my 'art — my a-heart ! Miss P.-— Howell — for heaven's sake, Howell ! K. — Pooh— ooh ! Sjnirsting 7vith laughter\ Here's a novel, by jingo ! Here's John in love with the governess. Fond of plush, Miss Pemberton — -ey ? Gad, it's the best thing I ever knew. Saved a good bit, ey, Jeames ? Take a public-house ? By Jove ! I'll buy my beer there. John. — 'Owe for it, you mean, I don't think your tradesmen profit much by your custom, ex-Cornet Kicklebury. K. — -By Jove ! I'll do for you, you villain ! John.— No, not that way, Captain. [Struggles with and throius him?[ K. — [j