APPLETONS POPULAR LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS THE FAT CONTRIBU 
 TORTRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
BOOKS BY THACKERAY. 
 
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PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS, 
 
 THE PAT CONTBIBUTOB, 
 
 AND 
 
 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 BY 
 
 W. M. THACKERAY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF * VANITY FAIR," " MR. BROWN 8 LETTERS TO A YOUNG 
 MAN ABOUT TOWN," ETC. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY. 
 1853. 
 
PS 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS, ... 7 
 
 George De Bamwell, ... 10 
 
 Phil. Fogarty, .... 32 
 
 Barbazure, .... 56 
 
 Lords and Liveries, . . . . 72 
 
 Codlingsby, .... 88 
 
 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR, . . . . .111 
 
 Brighton, . . . . 113 
 
 Meditations over Brighton, . . . .117 
 
 A Brighton Night Entertainment, . 122 
 
 Brighton in 1847, . . . . .129 
 
 Travelling Notes, ... 141 
 
 Punch in the East, . . . . .158 
 
 TRAVELS IN LONDON, . . . , 187 
 
 The Curate s Walk, . . . . .189 
 
 A Dinner in the City, . . . 204 
 
 A Club in an Uproar, . . . .225 
 
 Waiting at the Station, . . . .238 
 
 A Night s Pleasure, ... 242 
 
 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED, .... 279 
 
PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS, 
 
 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS so called because a 
 TWENTY THOUSAND GUINEA PRIZE is to be awarded 
 to the successful candidate will embrace works by 
 some of the most celebrated authors this country 
 boasts of. 
 
 Their tales will appear in succession, and pretty 
 continuously, in the pages of this Miscellany. 
 
 The publication will probably occupy about five- 
 and-thirty years, or more or less, according to the re 
 ception with which the novels meet from our enlight 
 ened patrons the generous British people. 
 
 All novels cannot be given entire, as a century 
 would scarcely suffice, so numerous are our authors, 
 so prolific and so eager has been the rush with stories, 
 when our (confidential) announcement was sent into 
 the literary world. But fair specimens of the authors 
 talents will be laid before the public, illustrated in 
 
 our usual style of gorgeous splendour. 
 1* 
 
10 
 
 The first prize will be 20,000 guineas, viz., a lot 
 tery ticket to that amount, entitling the holder to the 
 above sum or a palace at Vienna. The second prize 
 will be the volume of Punch for the current half- 
 year. The third a subscription to the British and 
 Foreign Institute, &c., &c. 
 
 With a pride and gratification we cannot conceal, 
 we at once introduce the public to GEORGE DE BARN- 
 WELL, by SIR E. L. B. L., BART. 
 
 We are not at liberty to reveal the gifted author s 
 name, but the admirers of his works will no doubt 
 recognize, in the splendid length of the words, the 
 frequent employment of the Beautiful and the Ideal, 
 the brilliant display of capitals, the profuse and pro 
 found classical learning, and, above all, in the an 
 nouncement that this is to be the last of his works 
 one who has delighted us for many years. 
 
 GEOKGE BE BARNWELL. 
 
 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 without the day-beams of the Latonian Chariot- 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 11 
 
 eer, 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 children together. CHRONES shall die, too ; but 
 Love is imperishable. Brightest of the Divinities, 
 where has 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 .ZEgean ! 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 
 ministers at thy Shrine draws his auguries from the 
 bleeding hearts of men ! 
 
 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 arms, the Furies that tear. 
 
the Love that bleeds, are not these with us Still ? are 
 not these still the weapons of the Artist ? the colours 
 of his pallette, 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 Kiver City ! its banks well nigh overflowing 
 with the myriad-waved Stream of Man ! The top 
 pling 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 remunera 
 tion, 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 labouring 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 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 13 
 
 ribald satire. The pavid matron within the one 
 vehicle (speeding to the Bank for her semestrial pit 
 tance) shrieked and trembled ; the angry DIVES has 
 tening to his offices (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 gaily threaded the Labyrinth of Life, en 
 joyed the perplexities 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 Candi 
 dates in the race for Gold, thought with a sigh of the 
 Truthful and the Beautiful, and walked on, melan 
 choly and serene. 
 
 Twas noon in Chepe. The ware-rooms 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 odours of the Cook Shops tempted the 
 ever hungry citizen to the bun of Bath, or to the fragrant 
 potage that mocks the turtle s flavour the turtle ! 
 O dapibus supremi grata testudo Jovis ! 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 brilliant shops whose casements shone upon 
 
14 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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, de 
 corated the lintel. The East and the West had sent 
 their contributions to replenish the window. 
 
 The poor slave had toiled, died perhaps, to pro 
 duce yon pyramid of swarthy sugar marked " ONLY 
 6%d." That catty box, on which was the epigraph 
 STRONG FAMILY CONGO ONLY 3s. 9^., was from the 
 country of Confutzee That heap of dark produce 
 bore the legend THY 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 con 
 tents 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. 
 Youth, Youth ! Happy and Beautiful ! 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 ! Immersed in thought or 
 study, and indifferent to the din around him, sate the 
 Boy. A careless guardian was he of the treasures 
 confided to him. The crowd passed in Chepe; he 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 15 
 
 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 proportions through the homely 
 and tightened garments he wore. 
 
 " Ahem ! Sir ! I say, young man ! " the customer 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " Ton d 1 apameibomenos 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 re 
 marked 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 high-bred 
 courtesy ; " Twas not French I read, twas the God 
 like language of the blind old bard. In what can I 
 be serviceable to ye, lady 1 " and to spring from his 
 desk, to smooth his apron, to stand before her the 
 
16 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 
 .ZEgean. 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 advertise, 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 conversation. " 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 since 
 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 co 
 quette said. 
 
 " Nay, say not so, fair stranger ! " the youth re 
 plied, his face kindling as he spoke, and his eagle 
 eyes flashing fire. " Figs pall ; but ! the Beautiful 
 never does ! Figs rot ; but ! the Truthful is eter- 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 17 
 
 nal. 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? " 
 
 " I came only for sixpenn orth of tea-dust," the 
 girl said, with a faltering voice ; " but 0, I should 
 like to hear you speak on for ever ! 1} 
 
 Only for sixpenn orth of tea-dust ? G-irl, thou 
 earnest for other things ! Thou lovedst his voice ? 
 Syren ! 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 mo 
 ment more was lost in the crowd. It was noon in 
 Chepe. And GEORGE DE BARNWELL was alone. 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. VOL. II. 
 
 } 
 
 BY SIR E. L. B. L. B B. L L. B B B. L L L., BART. 
 
 WE have selected the following episodical chapter 
 in preference to any relating to the mere story of 
 GEORGE BARNWELL, with which most readers are 
 familiar. 
 
 Up to this passage (extracted from the beginning 
 of Vol. ii.) the tale is briefly thus : 
 
 That 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 Beau 
 tiful, 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, Es 
 quires. 
 
GEORGE DE BARN WELL. 19 
 
 Inspired by MILLWOOD & 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 ANN and 
 GEOJUJE IT. dines with CURLL at St. John s gate, 
 pinks COLONEL CHARTERIS in a duel behind Montague 
 House, is initiated into the intrigues of the CHEVA 
 LIER ST. GEORGE, whom he entertains at his sump 
 tuous pavillion at Hampstead, and likewise in disguise 
 at the shop in Cheapside. 
 
 His uncle, the owner of the shop, a surly cur 
 mudgeon with very little taste for the True and the 
 Beautiful, has retired from business to the pastoral 
 village in Cambridgeshire from which the noble BARN- 
 WELLS 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 re 
 membered that the author 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 the 
 Beautiful, are united. 
 
20 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 CHAP. 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 dull 
 ness, 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 themselves 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 eight score years back. 
 Thou pudding-sided old dandy of St. James s Street, 
 with thy lackered boots, thy dyed whiskers, and thy 
 suffocating waistband, what art thou to thy brilliant 
 predecessor in the same quarter? The Brougham 
 from which thou descendest at the portal of the Carl- 
 ton or the Travellers , is like every body else s ; thy 
 black coat has no more plaits, nor buttons, nor fancy 
 in it than thy neighbour 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 
 
GEORGE DE BARN WELL. 21 
 
 night; you fancy yourselves men of pleasure; you 
 fancy yourselves men of fashion ; you fancy your 
 selves 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 wisdom 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 Head. The crowd of periwigged heads at the 
 windows the swearing chairman round the steps 
 (the blazoned and coronalled panels of whose vehicles 
 denote the lofty rank of their owners), the throng of 
 embroidered beaux entering or departing, and render 
 ing the air fragrant with the odours 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 embroi 
 dered, 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 
 cassock is talking freely with a gentleman, whose star 
 and riband, as well as the unmistakeable beauty of 
 
22 
 
 his Phidian countenance, proclaims him to be a mem 
 ber of Britain s aristocracy. 
 
 Two ragged youths, the one tall, gaunt, clumsy 
 and scrofulous ; the other with a wild, careless, beau 
 tiful 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 the desire of some of the revellers 
 within. 
 
 " I would, SAM," said the wild youth to his com 
 panion, " that I had some of my Mother MACCLES- 
 FIELD 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 pecuniary re 
 sources 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 
 
GEORGE DE BAR.NWELL. 23 
 
 to take a meal of cow-heel at a neighbouring cook s 
 shop. Their names were SAMUEL JOHNSON and 
 RICHARD SAVAGE. 
 
 Meanwhile the conversation at BUTTON S was fast 
 and brilliant. " By WOOD S thirteens, and the divvle 
 go wid em," cried the Church dignitary in the cas 
 sock, "is it in blue and goold ye are this morning, 
 SIR RICHARD, when you ought to be in seebles 1 ?" 
 
 " Who s dead, DEAN ? " said the nobleman, the 
 dean s companion. 
 
 " Faix, mee LARD BOLINGBROKE, as sure as mee 
 name s JONATHAN SWIFT and I m not so sure of 
 that neither, for who knows his father s name? 
 there s been a mighty cruel murther committed en 
 tirely. A child of DICK STEELE S has been barba 
 rously slain, dthrawn, and quarthered, and it s JOE 
 ADDISON yondther has done it. Ye should have kill 
 ed one of your own, JOE, ye thief of the world." 
 
 " I !" said the amazed and RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 JOSEPH ADDISON; " I kill DICK S child ! I was G-od- 
 father to the last." 
 
 " And promised a cup and never sent it," DICK 
 ejaculated. JOSEPH looked grave. 
 
 " The child I mean is SIR ROGER DE COVERLET, 
 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 after 
 noon were in mourning ; all the booksellers are wild ; 
 
24 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 and LINTOT says not a third of the copies of the Spec 
 tator are sold since the death of the brave old gen 
 tleman." And the DEAN OF ST. PATRICK S pulled 
 out the Spectator newspaper, containing the well- 
 known passage regarding SIR ROGER S death. "I 
 bought it but now in " Wellington-street," he said ; 
 " the news-boys were howling all down the Strand." 
 " What a miracle is Genius Genius, the Divine 
 and Beautiful," said a gentleman leaning against the 
 same fire-place with the deformed cavalier in iron-grey, 
 and addressing that individual, who was in fact MR. 
 ALEXANDER POPE, "what a marvellous gift is this, 
 and royal privilege of Art ! To make the 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 Incor 
 poreal, and to glamour the cloudy into substance, 
 these are the lofty privileges 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 delight 
 ed) " 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 
 Naught, and defy Death by rendering Thought Eter 
 nal. Ho ! JEMMY, another flask of Nantz." 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 25 
 
 And the boy for lie who addressed the most 
 brilliant company of wits in Europe was little more 
 emptied the contents of the brandy-flask into a sil 
 ver flagon, and quaffed it gaily 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 entering on a magnificent Arab past the 
 National Gallery. 
 
 " Who is yon spark in blue and silver ? He beats 
 JOE ADDISON, himself, in drinking, and pious JOE is 
 the greatest toper in the three kingdoms," DICK 
 STEELE said good-naturedly. 
 
 " His paper in the Spectator beats thy best, DICK, 
 thou sluggard," the RIGHT HONOURABLE MR. ADDI 
 SON 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 ex 
 claimed. 
 
 " 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- 
 
26 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 looking person who was drinking at a side-table, whis 
 pered to him something. 
 
 Meantime who was he ? where was he, this youth 
 who had struck all the wits of London with admira 
 tion? His galloping charger had returned to the 
 City; his splendid court-suit was doffed for the 
 citizen s gabardine and grocer s humble apron. 
 
 GEORGE DE BARNWELL was in Chepe in Chepe, 
 at the feet of MARTHA MILLWOOD. 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. VOL III. 
 
 BY SIR E. L. B. L. B B. L L. B B B. L L L., BART. 
 THE CONDEMNED CELL. 
 
 " Quid me mollibus implicas lacertis. my EL- 
 LINOR ? Nay," GEORGE added, a faint smile illumining 
 his wan but noble features, " why speak to thee in 
 the accents of the Roman poet, which thou compre- 
 hendest not ? Bright One, there be other things in 
 Life, in Nature, in this Inscrutable Labyrinth, this 
 Heart on which thou leanest, which are equally unin 
 telligible to thee ! Yes, my pretty one, what is the 
 Unintelligible but the Ideal ? what is the Ideal but 
 the Beautiful ? what the Beautiful but the Eternal ? 
 And the Spirit of Man that would commune with 
 these is like Him who wanders by the thina poluph- 
 loisboio thalasses, and shrinks awe-struck before that 
 Azure Mystery." 
 
28 
 
 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 SNOGGIN, the Turnkey appointed to 
 sit with the Prisoner, was affected 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 1 Ambition no Deception 5 Wealth no 
 Care ; and Glory no Mockery ? Psha ! I 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 BRUTUS 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 ! Welcome to my Bosom, thou faithful Ser 
 pent ; I hug thee, peace-bearing Image of the Eter 
 nal ! 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 of To-morrow 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 29 
 
 bathe my limbs in odours, 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 guardian understands me not, pretty one and 
 thou ? what sayst thou ? from those dear lips me- 
 thinks plura sunt oscula quam sententice 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 gaoler and the 
 girl in voices gurgling with emotion. And you who 
 read ! you unconvicted Convict you, murderer, 
 though haply you have slain no one you, Felon in 
 posse, if not in esse deal gently with one who has 
 used the Opportunity that has failed thee and be 
 lieve that the Truthful and the Beautiful bloom 
 sometimes in the dock and the convict s tawny Ga 
 bardine ! 
 
 ******* 
 
 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 judg- 
 
30 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 ment," he said to the Venerable Chaplain of the 
 gaol, " 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 inno 
 cent. Is the proposition a fair one ? " 
 
 The excellent Doctor admitted that it was not to 
 be contested. 
 
 " And wherefore, Sir, should I have sorrow," the 
 Boy resumed, " for ridding the world of a sordid 
 worm ; * 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 uplifting Art, to 
 
 * This is a gross plagiarism : the above sentiment is ex 
 pressed much more eloquently in the ingenious romance of 
 Eugene Aram : " The burning desires I have known the 
 resplendent visions I have nursed the sublime aspirings that 
 have lifted me 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. *** *".! have de 
 stroyed a man noxious to the world ; with the wealth by which 
 he afflicted society, I have been the means of blessing many." 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 31 
 
 which thou art blind. Give Gold, and thou art free. 
 But lie spake not, and I slew him." 
 
 " I would not have this doctrine vulgarly promul 
 gated," 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 with 
 out any Yearning after the Ideal to attempt to reor 
 ganise Society, to redistribute Property, to avenge 
 Wrong." 
 
 " A rabble of pigmies scaling Heaven," said the 
 noble, though misguided young Prisoner. " PROME 
 THEUS was a Giant, and he fell." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, my brave youth ! " the benevolent 
 DR. FUZZWIG exclaimed, clasping the Prisoner s mar 
 ble 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 gaily. 
 " 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 chap 
 lain could scarcely eat it for tears. 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. A TALE 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 comfortable as circumstances would ad 
 mit. JACK DELAMERE, TOM DELANCY, JERRY BLAKE, 
 the Doctor, and myself, sate down under a pontoon, 
 and our servants laid out a hasty supper on a tum 
 bril. Though CAMBACERES had escaped me so pro- 
 vokingly 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 instrument-case. We sate down and made 
 a soldier s supper. The Doctor pulled a few of the 
 delicious fruit from the lemon trees growing near 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 33 
 
 (and round which the Carabiniers 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 laughing, except the guardsman, who 
 was as savage as a Turk at a christening. 
 
 " Buvez-en" said old SAWBONES to our French 
 prisoner; " ga 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. 
 
 How strange are the chances of war ! But half-an- 
 hour before he and I were engaged in mortal combat, 
 and our prisoner was all but my conqueror. Grap 
 pling with CAMBACERES, whom I had knocked from 
 his horse, and was about to dispatch, 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 es 
 caped, 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 sur 
 renders." 
 
 I thought of my poor mother and my sisters, at 
 the old house in Killaloo T felt the tip of his blade 
 
34 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 
 officer, with a curse in the purest Irish. It was 
 lucky I stopped laughing time enough to bid LANTY 
 hold his hand, for the honest 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 soldiers we sate 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 TOM DELAMERE and JACK 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 Holiness s fayture ? " said 
 JERRY BLAKE. 
 
 " Any how you ll have a merry thought," cried the 
 incorrigible Doctor, and all the party shrieked at the 
 witticism. 
 
 " De mortuis nil nisi lonum" said JACK, holding 
 up the drum-stick clean. 
 
 " Faith, there s not enough of it to make us chicken- 
 hearted, anyhow," said I ; " come, boys, let s have a 
 song." 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 35 
 
 " Here goes," said TOM DELANCY, and sang the fol 
 lowing lyric, of his own composition : 
 
 " Dear JACK, this white mug that with GUINNESS I fill, 
 And drink to the health of sweet NAN of the TTill, 
 "Was once TOMMY TOSSPOT S, as jovial a sot, 
 As e er drew a spiggot, or drained a full pot 
 In drinking, all round twas his joy to surpass, 
 And with all merry tipplers he swigg d off his glass. 
 
 " One morning in summer, while seated so snug, 
 In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug, 
 Stern Death, on a sudden, to TOM did appear, 
 And said Honest THOMAS, come take your last bier ; 
 "We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can, 
 From which let us drink to the health of my NAN." 
 
 " Psha !" said the Doctor, " I ve heard that song 
 before ; here s a new one for you, boys ! " and SAW 
 BONES began, in a 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 
 O, murther, but that was a jew l ! 
 
 A fool 
 He made of de girls, dis O TooLE. 
 
 " Twas he was the boy didn t fail, 
 That tuck down pataties and mail ; 
 He never would shrink 
 From any sthrong dthrink, 
 
36 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 Was it whisky or Drogheda ale ; 
 
 I m baH 
 This LARRY would swallow a pail. 
 
 " 0, many a night, at the bowl, 
 With LARRY I ve sot cheek by jowl ; 
 He s gone to his rest, 
 Where there s dthrink of the best, 
 And so let us give his old sowl 
 
 A howl, 
 For twas he made the noggin to rowl." 
 
 I observed the French Colonel s eye glisten, 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 hostilities It came 
 just as the moon rose in her silver splendour, 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 cannonnade from the fort. 
 
 " Who s going to dance," said the Doctor, the 
 ball s begun. Ha ! there goes poor JACK DELAMERE S 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 37 
 
 head off ! The ball chose a soft one. any how. 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 well nigh 
 stopped my talking ; bedad I it has snuffed the 
 feather off my cocked hat !" 
 
 In this way, with eighty-four pounders roaring over 
 us like hail, the undaunted little doctor pursued his 
 jokes and his 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 gallant 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 Irish 
 man was never a traitor." 
 
 " Taisez-vous /" said he, putting his finger to his 
 lip. " C est la fortune de la guerre : if ever you 
 come to Paris, ask for the MARQUIS D O MAHONY, 
 and I may render you the hospitality which your 
 tyrannous laws prevent me from exercising in the 
 ancestral halls of my own race." 
 
 I shook him warmly by the hand as a tear bedim- 
 med his eye. It was, then, the celebrated colonel of 
 
38 
 
 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 echelon. The de 
 voted 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 
 with a shrill hurray, that sounded above the tremen 
 dous 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 demilune, we passed the culverin, bayonetting the 
 artillery-men at their guns ; we advanced across the 
 two tremendous demilunes which flank the counter 
 scarp, and prepared for the final spring upon the cit 
 adel. SOULT I could see quite pale on the wall ; and 
 the scoundrel CAMBACERES, who had been so nearly 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 39 
 
 my prisoner that day, trembled as he cheered his 
 men. " On boys, on !" I hoarsely exclaimed. " Hur- 
 roo," said the fighting Onety-oneth. 
 
 But there was a movement among the enemy. An 
 officer, glittering with orders, and another in a grey 
 coat and a cocked hat, came to the wall, and I recog 
 nised the EMPEROR NAPOLEON and the famous JOA 
 CHIM MURAT. 
 
 " We are hardly pressed, methinks," NAPOLEON 
 said, sternly. " I must exercise my old trade as an 
 artillery-man;" 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. 
 
 II. 
 
 " HUSH !" said a voice, which I recognised to be that 
 of the MARQUIS DE 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. 
 
40 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 " musha ! 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 letthur ! Six weeks ravin 
 and roarin as bould as a lion, and as mad as MICK 
 MALONY S pig, that mistuck 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 Col 
 onel; "you are at my house in the Place Yendome, 
 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 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 41 
 
 off his hat as lie mentioned the name darling to 
 France. " When our troops returned from the sally 
 in which your gallant storming party was driven back, 
 you were found on the glacis, and I had you brought 
 into the city. Your reason had left you. however, 
 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 BROUS- 
 SAIS, ESQUIROL, and BARON LARREY, you have been 
 restored to health, thank Heaven !" 
 
 "And that lovely angel who quitted the apart 
 ment ? " I cried. 
 
 " That lovely angel is the LADY BLANCHE SARS- 
 FIELD, my ward, a descendant of the gallant LUCAN, 
 and who may be, when she chooses, MADAME LA MA- 
 
 RECHALE DE CAMBACERES, DlJCHESS 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 gargon ; but calm yourself, and take this potion 
 which BLANCHE has prepared for you." 
 
 I drank the tisane eagerly when I heard whose 
 
42 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 elasticity 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 gigot aux navels, the b&uf aux 
 cornichons, and the other delicious entremets 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 decanter 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 dep6t of prisoners at 
 Verdun, the Marquis s interest with the EMPEROR 
 prevailed, and I was allowed to remain at Paris, the 
 happiest of prisoners at the Colonel s hotel at the 
 Place Vend6me. I here had the opportunity (an op- 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 43 
 
 portunity not lost, I flatter myself, on a young fellow 
 with the accomplishments of PHILIP FOGARTY, ESQ.) 
 of mixing with the (lite of French society, and meet 
 ing with many of the great, the beautiful, and the 
 "brave. TALLEYRAND was a frequent guest of the 
 Marquis s. His bon-mots used to keep the table in 
 a roar. NET frequently took his chop with us ; 
 MURAT, when in town, 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 ear-rings which 
 the latter, who always wore them, presented to her 
 but we are advancing matters. Anybody could see, 
 " avec un demi-ceil" as the PRINCE OF BENEVENT re 
 marked, how affairs went between me and BLANCHE ; 
 but though she loathed him for his cruelties and the 
 odiousness of his person, the brutal CAMBACERES still 
 pursued his designs upon her. 
 
 I recollect, it was on ST. PATRICK S Day. My 
 loyely 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, wittr an 
 odious squint,) a quantity of shamrock wherewith to 
 garnish the hotel, and all the Irish in Paris were in 
 vited to the national festival. 
 
 I and PRINCE TALLEYRAND danced a double horn 
 pipe with PAULINE BONAPARTE and MADAME DE 
 
44 
 
 STAEL ; MARSHAL SOULT went down a couple of sets 
 with MADAME RECAMIER ; and ROBESPIERRE S widow 
 an excellent, gentle creature, quite unlike her hus 
 band 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 coun 
 trywoman, the wild Irish girl, calls them were as 
 sembled in the Marquis s elegant receiving-rooms. 
 
 At last a great outcry was raised for La Gigue 
 Irlandaise ! La Gigue Irlandaise ! a dance which 
 had made fureur amongst the Parisians ever since the 
 lovely BLANCHE SARSFIELD had danced it. She step 
 ped 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 unfavourable 
 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 CAM- 
 BACERES 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." 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 45 
 
 So presently, as the music was going like mad all 
 this time, I pretended fatigue from my late wounds, 
 and sate down The lovely BLANCHE went up smi 
 ling, and brought out CAMBACERES as a second 
 partner. 
 
 The Marshal is a lusty man, who makes des 
 perate efforts to give himself a waist, and the effect 
 of the exercise upon him was 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 11 take the flure with me ? " said the charm 
 ing 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 a hurroo, 
 he began to dance with such a 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 ap 
 peared to mount the stair ; the great doors of the 
 reception-room were flung open, and two pages an 
 nounced their Majesties the Emperor and the Em 
 press. So engaged were LANTY and BLANCHE, that 
 they never heard the tumult occasioned by the august 
 approach. 
 
46 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 It was indeed the Emperor who, returning from 
 the Theatre Franqais, and seeing the Marquis s win 
 dows lighted up, proposed to the Empress to drop in 
 on the party. He made signs to the musicians to 
 continue : and the conqueror of Marengo and Fried- 
 land watched with interest the simple evolutions of 
 two happy Irish people. Even the Empress smiled ; 
 and, seeing 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. 
 " Ireland ! my country ! But no more of that. 
 Go up, PHIL, you divvle, and offer her Majesty the 
 choice of punch or negus." 
 
 III. 
 
 AMONG the young fellows with whom I was most 
 intimate in Paris was EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS, the son 
 of the ill-used and unhappy JOSEPHINE by her former 
 marriage with a French gentleman 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 re 
 peatedly mistake a fork for a tooth-pick, and the gal 
 lant MASSENA devour peas by means of his knife, in a 
 
PHIL, FOGARTY. 47 
 
 way more innocent than graceful. TALLEYRAND. 
 EUGENE, and I, used often to laugh at these eccentri 
 cities of our brave friends, who certainly did not 
 shine in the drawing-room, however brilliant they 
 were in the field of battle. The EMPEROR always 
 asked me to take wine with him. and was full of kind 
 ness and attention. " I like EUGENE " (he would say 
 to me, pinching my ear confidentially, as his way was,) 
 " I like EUGENE to keep company with such young 
 fellows as you ; you have manners ; you have princi 
 ples ; 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 honours made my friends at the 
 Marquis s very proud, and my enemies at Court crever 
 with envy. Among these, the atrocious CAMBACERES 
 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 14me Chevaux 
 Marins, were the bribes that were actually offered to 
 me ; and, must I say it ! BLANCHE, the lovely, the 
 
48 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 valour 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 straw 
 berry-leaves, should decorate the brows of the up 
 start 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 traitress ! " Taking up my hat, I left the room 
 in a fury ; and flinging open the door, tumbled over 
 CAMBACERES, who was listening at the key-hole, 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 them into CAMBACERES fat 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 49 
 
 sides as we rolled on the carpet, until the Marshal 
 howled with rage and anger. 
 
 " 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 " Garry- 
 owen." 
 
 I knew my man would not be long in following 
 me, and waited for him in the Place Vendome, where 
 I luckily met EUGENE 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 
 
50 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 gave 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 acquaint 
 ance, MARSHAL NET, to EUGENE, as his second in 
 the business. 
 
 I had purchased from MURAT a very fine Irish 
 horse, Bugaboo, 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 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 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 51 
 
 that the affair with CAMBACERES 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 shot in 
 the French army ; but I, who am a pretty good hand 
 at a snipe, thought a man was bigger, and that I 
 could wing him if I had a mind. As soon as NEY 
 gave the word, we both fired : I felt a whizz past 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 ad 
 versary reeled and fell. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, il est mort ! " cried NEY. 
 
 " Pas de tout? "said BEAUHARNAIS. " Ecoute ; U 
 jure toujours" 
 
 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 carried 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 
 dtsirer." 
 
 It was arranged that CAMBACERES division of 
 
52 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 six battalions and nine-and-twenty squadrons should 
 execute a ricochet movement, supported by artillery in 
 the intervals, and converging by different epaulements 
 on the light infantry, that formed, as usual, the centre 
 of the line. It was by this famous monoeuvre that at 
 Arcola, at Montenotte, at Friedland, and subsequently 
 at Mazagran, SUWAROFF, PRINCE CHARLES, and 
 GENERAL CASTANOS were defeated with such victo 
 rious slaughter : but it is a movement which, I need 
 not tell every military man, requires the greatest 
 delicacy of execution, and which, if it fails, plunges 
 an army info 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 sun 
 shine, 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 
 right, with the precision which became those veteran 
 troops ; but the Chasseurs of the young guard, march- 
 
PHIL. FOGARTY. 53 
 
 ing by twos instead of threes, bore consequently 
 upon the Bavarian Uhlans (an ill-disciplined and ill- 
 affected body), and then, falling back in disorder, be 
 came entangled with the artillery and the left centre 
 of the line, and in one instant thirty thousand men 
 were in inextricable confusion. 
 
 " Clubbed, by Jabers !" roared out LANTY CLANCY. 
 "I wish we could show em the Fighting Onety- 
 oneth, Captain, darling." 
 
 " Silence, fe"llow ! " 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 ILLY- 
 RIA. " He is wounded, Sire, 11 said G-ENERAL FOY, 
 wiping a tear from his eye, which was blackened by 
 the force of the blow ; " he was wounded an hour 
 hence 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, shak 
 ing his spy-glass at me with the fury of a fiend. 
 
 This was too much. " Here goes !" said I, and 
 rode slap at him. 
 
54 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 EM 
 PEROR, 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-thrco 
 thousand eight hundred men at my heels. ***** 
 
BARBAZURE. 
 
 BY G. P. E. JEAMES, ESQ., ETC. 
 
 IT was upon one of those balmy evenings of No 
 vember which are only known in the valleys of Lan- 
 guedoc 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 luminary 
 were gilding the peaks and crags which lined the 
 path, through which the horsemen wound slowly ; 
 and as those eternal 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 grey 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 shep 
 herds, calling in their flocks as they trooped home 
 wards to their mountain villages, sent up plaintive 
 echoes which moaned through those rocky and lonely 
 
56 
 
 steeps ; the stars began to glimmer in the purple 
 heavens, spread serenely over head ; and the faint 
 crescent of the moon, which had peered for some time 
 scarce visible in the azure, gleamed out more bril 
 liantly 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 renown and disciplined valour. 
 
 And of all that fair land of France, whose beauty 
 is so bright, and bravery so famous, there is no spot 
 greener or fairer than that one over which our trav 
 ellers wended, and which stretches between the good 
 towns of Yendemiaire 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 matte-poste 
 thundering over the chausste at twelve miles an hour 
 pass the ground hourly and daily now : twas lone 
 ly 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 proclaim 
 ed them) caracolled together. The one, seemingly 
 the younger of the twain, wore a flaunting feather in 
 
BARB AZURE. 57 
 
 his barret-cap, and managed a prancing Andalusian 
 palfrey that bounded and curvetted gaily. A surcoat 
 of peach-coloured samite and a purfled doublet of vair 
 bespoke hid noble, as did his brilliant eye, his ex 
 quisitely 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 play 
 fully whisking off with his riding-rod a flowret in his 
 path. PHILIBERT DE COQUELICOT rode by his darker 
 companion. 
 
 His comrade was mounted upon a destridre of the 
 true Norman breed, that had first champed grass on 
 the green pastures of Acquitaine. Thence through 
 Berry, Picardy, and the Limousin, halting at many a 
 city and commune, holding joust and tourney in many 
 a castle and manor of Navarre, Poitou, and St. Ger 
 main 1 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 mangonel, the demiculverin, 
 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, 
 
 3* 
 
58 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 morion and tumbril, battle-axe and rifflard, and the 
 other appurtenances of ancient chivalry, rode stately 
 on his steel-clad charger, himself 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-armour, " to ride forth so far to welcome 
 thy cousin and companion in arms." 
 
 " Companion in battledoor and shuttlecock, Ro- 
 MANE DE CLOS-VOUGEOT !" replied the younger Cava 
 lier. " 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 broken 
 a lance with SOLYMAN at Rhodes, and smoked a chi 
 bouque 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 demivolte, 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 
 
BARBAZURE. 59 
 
 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 ? " BOMANE 
 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, PHILI- 
 
 BERT 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 FA 
 TIMA, PHILIBERT my blue-eyed FATIMA ! " 
 
 "I say she is well," answered his comrade, 
 gloomily. 
 
 "Is she dead? Is she ill? Hath she the mea 
 sles? 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 
 
60 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 emo 
 tion, or conceal some tale his friend could ill brook 
 to hear the reckless damoiseau galloped wildly for 
 ward. 
 
 But swift as was his courser s pace, that of his 
 companion s enormous charger was swifter. "Boy," 
 said the elder, "thou hast ill tidings. I know it by 
 thy glance. Speak : shall he who hath bearded grim 
 Death in a thousand fields shame to face truth from 
 a friend ? Speak, in the name of Heaven and good 
 SAINT BOTIB^L. ROMANE DE CLOS-YOUGEOT will bear 
 your tidiings like a man ! " 
 
 " FATIMA is well," answered PHILIBERT once again; 
 : she hath had no measles: she lives and is still 
 fair." 
 
 " Fair, aye, peerless fair ; but what more, PHILI 
 BERT ? 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. 
 
BARBAZURE. 61 
 
 II. 
 
 LIKE many another fabric of feudal war and splen 
 dour, 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 gorgeous 
 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 hun 
 dred knights and six times as many archers fought 
 round the banner of BARBAZURE at Bouvines, Malpla- 
 quet, and Azincour. For his services at Fontenoy 
 against the English, the heroic CHARLES MARTEL 
 appointed the fourteenth Baron Hereditary Grand 
 Bootjack of the kingdom of France ; and for wealth, 
 
62 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 for splendour, and for skill and fame in war, RAOUL 
 the twenty-eighth Baron, was in no wise inferior to his 
 noble ancestors. 
 
 That the BARON RAOUL levied toll upon the river, 
 and mail upon the shore ; that he now and then ran 
 somed a burgher, plundered a neighbour, 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 endow the Church with a part of his spoil, so that 
 when he went forth to battle he was always accompa* 
 nied by her blessing. Thus lived the BARON RAOUL, 
 the pride of the country in which he dwelt, an orna 
 ment to the Court, the Church, and his neighbours. 
 
 But in the midst of all his power and splendour 
 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 chieftain. 
 So true it is, that if fortune is a parasite, grief is a 
 republican, 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 lov 
 er," said the Lady of Chacabacque to her daughter, 
 
BARBAZURE. 63 
 
 the lovely FATIMA, " and think how the noble BARBA 
 ZURE 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 I 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 quad 
 rilles, and twenty-three corantoes, I think, child," the 
 mother said, eluding her daughter s remark. 
 
 " Twenty-five," said lovely FATIMA, casting her 
 beautiful eyes to the ground. "Heigh-ho! but B-o- 
 MANE danced them very well ! " 
 
 "He had not the court air," the mother sug 
 gested. 
 
 " I don t wish to deny the beauty of the LORD OF 
 BARBAZURE S dancing, Mamma," FATIMA replied. 
 " For a short, lusty man, 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-coloured hose and pink shoon became the 
 noble Baron wondrous well," FATIMA acknowledged. 
 " It must be confessed that, though middle-aged, he 
 
64 
 
 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 abomina 
 bly ;" 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 understand 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 pro 
 verbial ; 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 at 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 parents saw how much wiser, better, hap 
 pier, for their child it would be to have for life a 
 partner like the Baron, than to wait the doubtful 
 
BARBAZURE. 65 
 
 return of the penniless wanderer to whom she was 
 plighted. 
 
 Ah ! how beautiful and pure a being ! how regard 
 less of .self ! how true to duty ! how obedient to 
 parental command, is that earthly angel, a well-bred 
 woman of genteel family ! Instead of indulging in 
 splenetic refusals or vain regrets for her absent lover, 
 the exemplary FATIMA at once signified to her excel 
 lent 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 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 BARB AZURE. Tistrue 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 em 
 ployed 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 
 
66 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 a good and tender husband, who, nine times wed 
 ded, 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 receive the magnificent marriage gift 
 presented to her by her gallant 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 sav 
 agely through the grating of the portcullis of the 
 vast embattled gate of the Castle of Barbazure, and 
 rudely bade her begone. " The LADY OF BARBAZURE 
 sees nobody but her confessor, and keeps her cham 
 ber," was the invariable reply of the dogged func 
 tionaries to the entreaties of the agonised 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 unri- 
 
BARBAZURE. 67 
 
 vailed 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 Bur 
 gundy 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. 
 
 For the three first days of that famous festival, 
 the redoubted BARON OF BARB AZURE had kept the field 
 against all the knights who entered. His lance bore 
 everything down before it. The most famous cham 
 pions of Europe, assembled at these joustings, 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 declin 
 ing over the Yosges, and the shadows were lengthen 
 ing 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 conqueror sate still erect on his charger, and- the 
 multitudes 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 ring- 
 
68 
 
 ing more clearly, until a knight in pink armour rode 
 into the lists with his visor down, and riding a tre 
 mendous dun charger, which he managed to the ad 
 miration 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 accents 1 
 
 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 neighbourhood, 
 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 prepared to encounter the intruder. 
 
 According to the wont of chivalry, and to keep 
 the point of the spear from harm, the top of the un 
 known knight s lance was shielded with a bung, which 
 the warrior removed ; and galloping up to BARBA 
 ZURE 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 Voutrance. " 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 ! 
 
BARBAZURE. 69 
 
 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 
 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 com 
 bat the knight in rose armour stood over his pros 
 trate foe, whose helmet had rolled off when he was at 
 length unhorsed, and whose blood-shot 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 duch 
 ess balcony to receive the gold chain which was the 
 reward 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 honour, 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 in the limits of our 
 
70 
 
 periodical 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 ac 
 count of the agonies of the Baroness kept on bread 
 and water in her dungeon, and the general tone of 
 morality, are all excellently worked out ; the BARON 
 DE BARBAZURE resolves upon putting his wife to 
 
 death by the hands of the public executioner.) 
 
 ***#*##* 
 
 Two minutes before the clock struck noon, the 
 savage Baron was on the platform to inspect the pre 
 paration for the frightful ceremony of mid-day. 
 
 The block was laid forth the hideous minister 
 of vengeance, 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." How few are the 
 wives, in our day, who show such angelic meekness ! 
 It touched all hearts around her, save that of the 
 
BARBAZURE. 71 
 
 implacable BARBAZURE ! Even the LADY BLANCHE, 
 (FATTMA S cousin,) whom he had promised to marry 
 upon his faithless wife s demise, besought for her 
 kinswoman s life, and a divorce ; but BARBAZURE had 
 vowed her death. 
 
 " Is there no pity, Sir ? " asked the chaplain who 
 had attended her. " No pity," echoed the weeping 
 serving-maid. " Did I not aye say I would die for 
 my lord ? " said the gentle lady, and placed herself 
 at the block. 
 
 SIR KAOUL 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 irresisti 
 ble, 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 KOMANE DE CLOS VOUGEOT. i 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 
 
 BY THE AUTHORESS OF " DUKES AND DEJEUNERS," " HEARTS AND 
 DIAMONDS," " MARCHIONESSES AND MILLINERS," ETC. ETC. 
 
 I. 
 
 CORBLEU ! What a lovely creature that was in the 
 FITZBATTLEAXE 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-flavoured Cubas (from HUDSON S) after the 
 opera. 
 
 Everybody stared at such an exclamation of en 
 thusiasm from the lips of the young EARL OF BAG- 
 NIGGE, who was never heard to admire anything 
 except a coulis de dindonneau a la St. Menehould, 
 or a supreme de cochon en torticotis a la Piffarde ; 
 such as CHAMPOLLION, the chief of the Travellers, only 
 knows how to dress ; or the bouquet of a flask of 
 Medoc, of CARBONELL S best quality ; or a goutte of 
 Marasquin, from the cellars of BRIGGS AND HOBSON. 
 
 ALURED DE PENTONVILLE, eighteenth Earl of 
 Bagnigge, Viscount Paon of Islington, Baron Pan- 
 eras, Kingscross, and a Baronet, was, like too many 
 of our young men of ton, utterly blase, although only 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 73 
 
 in his twenty-fourth year. Blest, luckily, with a mo 
 ther 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. 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 sev 
 enteenth Earl gallant and ardent, 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 de 
 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 ALTA- 
 MONT DE PENTONVILLE ! Such, such is fate ! 
 
 The admirable EMILY DE PENTONVILLE trembled 
 4 
 
74 
 
 with all a mother s solicitude at the distinctions and 
 honours 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 until 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 Mediterranea 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 DELA- 
 WADDYMORE S coachman, who, having deposited her 
 fat ladyship at No. 236, Piccadilly, was driving the 
 carriage to the stables, before commencing his even 
 ing at the Fortune of War public-house ; "what a 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 75 
 
 lovely creature that was ! What eyes ! what hair ! 
 Who knows her ? Do you, mon cher Prince ? 
 
 " E bellissima, certamente" said the DUCA DI 
 MONTEPULCIANO, and stroked down his jetty mous 
 tache. 
 
 " Ein gar schones Mddchen" said the HERE 
 DITARY GRAND DUKE OF EULENSCHRECKENSTEIN, and 
 turned up his carroty one. 
 
 " Elle riest pas mal, ma foil" said the PRINCE DE 
 BORODINO, 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 tui 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 BORO 
 DINO thus apostrophised. The MARQUIS OF ALICOM- 
 PAYNE, young DE BOOTS of the Life Guards, TOM 
 PROTOCOL of the Foreign Office ; the gay young 
 peers FARINTOSH, POLDOODY, and the rest ; and BAG 
 NIGGE, for a wonder, not less eager than any one 
 present. 
 
76 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 " 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 will. 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 mali 
 cious TOM PROTOCOL, whose mots are known in every 
 diplomatic salon from Petersburgh to Palermo. 
 
 " Burn her wigs, and hang her poodle ! " said 
 BAGNIGGE. " Tell us about this girl, FRANKLIN 
 Fox?" 
 
 " In the first place, she has five hundred thousand 
 acres, in a ring fence, in Norfolk ; a County in Scot 
 land, a Castle in Wales, a Villa at Richmond, a cor 
 ner house in Belgrave-square, and eighty thousand 
 a year in the Three per Cents." 
 
 " Aprts ? " said BAGNIGGE, still yawning. 
 
 " Secondly, BORODINO luifait la cour. They are 
 cousins, her mother was an Armagnac of the emigra 
 tion ; the old Marshal, his father, married another 
 sister. I believe he was footman in the family, be 
 fore NAPOLEON princified him." 
 
 " No, no, he was second coachman " TOM PRO- 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 77 
 
 TOCOL good-naturedly interposed " a cavalry officer, 
 FRANK, not an infantry man." 
 
 " Faith, you should have seen his fury (the young 
 one s, I mean) when he found me in the Duchess s 
 room this evening, 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 Co vent Garden scoun 
 drel 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 maitre-d hdtel here announced that supper 
 was served. It was remarked that even the coulis de 
 dindonneau made no impression on BAGNIGGE that 
 night. 
 
 II. 
 
 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 fureur of 
 admiration or envy. 
 
78 
 
 Introduced by the DUCHESS OF FITZBATTLEAXE, 
 along with her Grace s daughters, the Ladies GWEN 
 DOLINE and GWINEVER PORTCULLIS, the heiress s 
 regal beauty quite flung her cousins simple charms 
 into the shade, and blazed with a splendour which 
 caused all " minor lights " to twinkle faintly. Before 
 a day the beau-monde, before a week even the vulga 
 rians 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 examine the carriages building for her, so 
 faultless, so splendid, so quiet, so odiously unosten 
 tatious and provokingly simple ! Besides the ances 
 tral services of argenterie and vaissette plate, con 
 tained 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 blue stocks, called " Heiress-killers, 
 very chaste, two- and - six ;" long before that, the 
 monde had rushed to MADAME CRINOLINE S, or sent 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 79 
 
 couriers to MADAME MARABOU, at Paris, so as to 
 have copies of her dresses ; but, as the Mantuan 
 bard observes, " Non cuivis contigit," every foot 
 cannot accommodate itself to the ckaussure of CIN 
 DERELLA. 
 
 With all this splendour, this worship, this beauty ; 
 with these cheers following her, and these crowds at 
 her feet, was AMETHYST 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 ruinerai" says FRONSAC in a letter to 
 BOSSUET, " si je savais ou acheter le bonheur /" 
 
 With all her riches, with all her splendour. AME 
 THYST 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. Crible de dettes, it 
 is no wonder that he should choose such an opportu 
 nity to refaire sa fortune. He gave out that he 
 would kill any man who should cast an eye on the 
 heiress, and the monster kept his word, MAJOR 
 
80 
 
 G-RIGG, of the Life Guards, 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 
 CoblentZj and did not care to resume so dangerous a 
 courtship. BORODINO could snuff a bougie at a hun- 
 dred-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 cham 
 pion 5* redoutable. 
 
 Over a Salmi 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 every body knows the 
 next mansion to that occupied by AMETHYST. A 
 communication was made between the two houses. 
 She never went out except accompanied by the Duch 
 ess s guard, which it was impossible to overcome. 
 
 " Impossible ! Nothing s impossible," said LORD 
 BAGNIGGE. 
 
 " 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 BAG- 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 8i 
 
 NIGGE replied with a yawn ; and the bet was regis 
 tered 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 fractured limb and a dislo 
 cated shoulder ; and the doctor s bulletins 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 car 
 riage. A fortnight after the above events, his Lord 
 ship was prancing by her Grace s great family coach, 
 and chattering with LADY G-WINEVER about the 
 strange wager. 
 
 " Do you know what a poney is, LADY GWIN- 
 EVER ? " he asked. Her Ladyship said yes ; she had 
 a cream-coloured 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 COUTTS S. 
 Then he explained the circumstances of the bet with 
 BAGNIGGE. Parliament was to adjourn in ten days ; 
 the season would be over ; BAGNIGGE was lying ill 
 chez lui ; and the five-and-twenty thousand were ir 
 recoverably his. And he vowed he would buy LORD 
 
 BINNACLE S yacht crew, captain, guns and all. 
 
 4* 
 
82 
 
 On returning home that night from LADY POLKI- 
 MORE SJ MARTINGALE found among the many billets 
 upon the gold plateau in his antichambre, the fol 
 lowing brief one, which made him start : 
 
 " DEAR MARTINGALE, Don t be too sure of BIN 
 NACLE 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." 
 
 III. 
 
 THE tall footman, number four, who had come in the 
 place of JOHN, cashiered (for want of proper mallets, 
 and because his hair did not take powder well), had 
 given great satisfaction to the under-butler,who report 
 ed 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 ac 
 count of a quarrel in which he engaged with MON 
 SIEUR ANATOLE, the enormous Walloon chasseur, who 
 was one day found embracing Miss FLOUNCY, who 
 waited on AMETHYST S own maid. The very instant 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 83 
 
 Miss FLOUNCY saw MR. JEAMES entering the Ser 
 vant s Hall, where MONSIEUR ANATOLE was engaged 
 in " aggravating " her, Miss FLOUNCY screamed at 
 the next moment the Belgian giant lay sprawling up 
 on the carpet and JEAMES, standing over him, as 
 sumed 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 par 
 tial to Miss FLOUNCY herself, complimented JEAMES 
 on his valour, 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 la 
 dies," he said, " a gentleman 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 elegantly, speak 
 ing off the longest words without a moment s difficul 
 ty. He could speak French, too, Miss FLOUNCY 
 found, who was studying it under MADEMOISELLE, 
 grande jUle-de-chambre de confiance ; for when she 
 said to him " Polly voo Fransy, MUNSEER JEAMES ? " 
 he replied readily " We, Mademaselle fay passay 
 
84 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 washing-girl was irrecoverably 
 gone ! Poor FLOUNCY ! poor FLOUNCY ! he thought 
 not of thee. 
 
 It happened thus. Miss AMETHYST being engag 
 ed 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 FRED 
 ERICK were behind the carriage with their long sticks 
 and neat dark liveries ; the horses were worth a thou 
 sand guineas each, the coachman a late Lieutenant- 
 Colonel of cavalry : the whole ring could not boast a 
 more elegant turn out. 
 
 The Prince drove his curricle and had charge of 
 his belle cousine. It may have been the red fezzes in 
 the carriage of the Turkish ambassador which fright 
 ened the Prince s greys, 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 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 85 
 
 mile, scattered equipages, pietons, dandies cabs, and 
 Snobs pheaytons. AMETHYST was screaming ; and 
 the Prince, deadly pale, had lost all presence of mind, 
 as the curricle came rushing by the spot where Miss 
 AMYTHIST S carriage stood. 
 
 " I m blest," FREDERICK exclaimed to his compan 
 ion, " if it ain t the Prince a drivin our Missis ! They ll 
 be in the Serpingtine, or dashed to pieces, if they 
 dont mind ;" and the runaway 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 aid 
 ed 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 tcrases les 
 cors. manant ! " yelled the frantic nobleman, writh 
 ing underneath the intrepid charioteer. 
 
 " Taut pis pour toi^ nigaud" was the reply. The 
 lovely AMETHYST of course had fainted ; but she re- 
 
86 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 covered as she was placed in her carriage, and reward 
 ed her preserver with a celestial smile. 
 
 The rage, the fury, the maledictions of BORODINO, 
 as he saw the latter a liveried menial stoop grace 
 fully forward and kiss AMETHYST S hand, may be im 
 agined rather than described. But JEAMES heeded 
 not his curses. Having placed his adored mistress 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 puree a la bisque 
 aux ecrtvisseS) the clumsy attendant who served him 
 let fall the assiette of vermeille cisele with its scald 
 ing contents, over the Prince s chin, his Mechlin jabot 
 and the grand cordon of the Legion of Honour which 
 he wore. 
 
 " Infdme" howled BORODINO, " tu Pas fait ex- 
 pies " 
 
 " Oui,je Pai fait expres" said the man, with the 
 most perfect Parisian accent. It was JEAMES. 
 
 Such insolence of course could not be passed un 
 noticed 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 para- 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 87 
 
 graph which may possibly elucidate the above mys 
 tery, 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 having been made, the Earl pre 
 tended 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 profession] actually succeeded in making an en 
 try 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 BO 
 RODINO 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 PENTONVILLE, who adores her 
 daughter-in-law and her little grand-children, is blest 
 in seeing her darling son enfin un homme rangt. 
 
CODLINGSBY. 
 
 BY B, DE SHREWSBURY, 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 congre 
 gated 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 reflexions 
 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 squat 
 ted by the Niger, under the palm-trees ; where the 
 Northern 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 
 
CODLINGSBY. 89 
 
 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, sympathising, 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 Damas 
 cus ; 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, 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 YESTRIS S theatre. That little ARMIDA 
 was folle of MADAME VESTRIS S theatre ; and her 
 little Brougham, and her little self, and her enormous 
 eyes, and her prodigious opera-glass, and her miracu 
 lous bouquet, which cost LORD CODLINGSBY twenty 
 guineas every evening at NATHAN S in Covent Garden, 
 
90 
 
 (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, comfortable 
 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 Holy well 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 nlsStfils -lips curved like the bow 
 of Love every man or maiden, every babe or ma 
 tron 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 surveyed 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 master-piece of STULTZ S with a fa 
 miliarity which would have made the Baron tremble. 
 
CODLINGSBY. 9 1 
 
 - " RAFAEL MENDOZA ! " exclaimed GODFREY. 
 
 " The same, LORD CODLINGSBY," the individual 
 so apostrophised 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 a disguise ; half 
 the Hebrew s life is a disguise. He shields himself 
 in craft, since the Norman boors persecuted him. 
 
 They passed under an awning of old clothes, 
 tawdry fripperies, greasy spangles, and battered 
 masks, into a shop as black and hideous as the en 
 trance 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 
 palace smells of putty. You wouldn t have a man, 
 mon cher, bury himself in his chateau in Normandy, 
 out of the hunting season ? The Rugantino Palace 
 stupifies me. Those Titians are so gloomy, I shall 
 have my HOBBIMAS and TENIERS, I think, from my 
 house at the Hague hung over them." 
 
 " How many castles, palaces, houses, warehouses. 
 
92 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 shops, have you, RAFAEL ?" LORD CODLINGSBY asked, 
 laughing. 
 
 " This is one " RAFAEL answered. " Come in." 
 
 II. 
 
 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 wound 
 ed 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 revolu 
 tion, and the cuirassiers would have been charging, 
 sabre in hand, anfidst that infuriate mob. In France 
 they would have brought down artillery, and played 
 on it with twenty-four pounders. In Cambridge no 
 body heeded the disturbance it was a Town and 
 Gown row. 
 
 The row arose at a boat-race. The Town boat 
 (manned by eight stout barges, with the redoubted 
 RULLOCK for stroke) had bumped the Brazennose 
 light oar, usually at the head of the river. High 
 words arose regarding the dispute. After returning 
 from Granchester, when the boats pulled back to 
 
CODLINGSBY. 93 
 
 Christchurch meadows, the disturbance between the 
 Townsmen and the University youths their invaria 
 ble opponents grew louder and more violent, until it 
 broke out in open battle. Sparring and skirmishing 
 took place along the pleasant fields that lead from 
 the University gate down to the broad and shining 
 waters of the Cam, and under the walls of Baliol 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 Brazennose 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 refec 
 tion. 
 
 During the boat-race, a gentleman pulling in a 
 canoe, and smoking a Nargilly, had attracted no ordi 
 nary 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 vo 
 lumes of odour from his cool Nargilly. 
 
 " 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 
 
94 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 Grown alike asked who it was, who, with an ease so 
 provoking, in a barque so singular, with a form seem 
 ingly 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 Brazennose, 
 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 Cam 
 bridge 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 Capitan Pastia 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 Rus 
 sian 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 
 
CODLINGSBY. 95 
 
 the Ottomans was saved from ruin ; the MARCHIONESS 
 OF STOKEPOGIS, our Ambassador s lady, appeared in 
 a suit of diamonds which outblazed even the Roman 
 off jewels, and RAFAEL MENDOZA obtained the little 
 caique. He never travelled without 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 Iffley and Barnwell, from factory and 
 mill, from wharf and warehouse, the Town poured 
 out to meet their enemy, and the battle was soon 
 general. From the Addenbrook s hospital to the 
 Blenheim turnpike, all Cambridge was in an uproar 
 the College gates closed the shops barricaded 
 the shopboys away in support of their brother towns 
 men 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 enter 
 tain him, and a couple of dates and a glass of water 
 formed his meal. In vain the discomfited landlord 
 pressed him to partake of the slighted banquet. " A 
 breakfast ! psha !" said he. " My good man, I have 
 
96 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 outnumber 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 COD 
 LINGSBY ; well parried, LORD CODLINGSBY ; claret 
 drawn, by Jupiter ! " 
 
 " Ours is werry fine, the landlord said. " Will 
 your highness have Chateau Margaux or Lafiitte ? " 
 
 " 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 Cambridge, 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 gallantry of his race, but was no match for the 
 
CODLINGSBY. 97 
 
 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 ; li 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 window 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 barge 
 man. 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 After the Coroner s Inquest, MENDOZA gave ten 
 thousand pounds to each of the bargeman s ten chil 
 dren, 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 in ! 
 
 III. 
 
 GODFREY and RAFAEL passed from the street into 
 *he outer shop of the old mansion in Holywell Street. 
 It was a masquerade warehouse, to all appearance. 
 
98 
 
 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 seal 
 ing wax? Come and intercede for me with this wild 
 gazelle ; she says I can t have it under fifteen 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, RAFAEL." 
 
 " 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, MISTRAER LINT, ve d ask a 
 
CODLINGSBY. 99 
 
 guinea of any but you. Here s a gentlemansh just 
 come to look at it. Look ear, ME. 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 PATTENS in that costume 
 was too much for MR. LINT : he agreed to pay the 
 fifteen shillings for the garment. And RAFAEL, pock 
 eting 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. " Con 
 fess you would call it meanness my huxtering with 
 yonder young fool. I 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 
 necessity 1 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 despi 
 cable. Psha, my CODLINGSBY ! One is as the other. 
 
100 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 I trade in pennies and in millions. I am above or 
 below neither." 
 
 They were passing through a second shop, smell 
 ing 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 Piccadilly. 
 I am bringing him up to be head of our house at 
 Amsterdam. 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 to St. Bennet s, Knights- 
 bridge, and as she fancied she recognised in the 
 man who was crying old clothes the gentleman with 
 whom she had talked at the COUNT DE SAINT Au- 
 LAIRE S the night before." Something like a blush 
 flushed over the pale features of MENDOZA as he 
 mentioned the LADY LAUDA S name. " Come on," 
 said he. They passed through various warehouses 
 the cfrange room, the sealing-wax room, the six-bladed- 
 knife department, and finally came to an old baize 
 door. RAFAEL opened the baized door by some 
 secret contrivance, and they were in a black passage, 
 with a curtain at the end. 
 
CODLINGSBY. 101 
 
 He clapped his hands ; the curtain at the end of 
 the passage drew back, and a flood of golden light 
 streamed on the Hebrew and his visitor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THEY entered a moderate-sized apartment in 
 deed, Holywell Street is not above a hundred yards 
 long, and this chamber was not more than half that 
 length and 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, ara 
 besques, and classic figures, by SIR * WILLIAM Ross, 
 J. M. TURNER, R. A., MRS. MEE, and PAUL DELA- 
 ROCHE. 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 sniaragd. 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, 
 
102 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 LEONARDOS, and fifty of the master-pieces 
 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 gaily to a little 
 negro with a silver collar (he spoke to him in his 
 native tongue of Dongola) ; " 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 LEO 
 NARDO 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 Yarennes 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 ? ! my sister I forgot MIRIAM ! 
 this is the LORD CODLINGSBY." 
 
 She had been seated at an ivory piano-forte on a 
 mother-of-pearl music-stool, trying a sonata of HERZ. 
 
CODLING SB Y. 103 
 
 She rose when thus apostrophised. MIRIAM DE MEN- 
 DOZA 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 much fairer 
 was MIRIAM the Hebrew ! 
 
 Her hair had that deep glowing tinge in it which 
 has been the delight of all painters, and which, there 
 fore, 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 was fastened b} r a 
 girdle of emeralds over a yellow satin frock. Pink 
 gauze trousers spangled with silver, and slippers of 
 the same colour as the band which clasped her ring 
 lets (but so covered with pearls that the original hue 
 of the charming little papoosh disappeared entirely) 
 completed her costume. She had three necklaces on, 
 
104 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 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 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 fragrant Gibelly. 
 
 " My lord s pipe is out," said MIRIAM with a smile, 
 remarking 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-illume the extin 
 guished chibouk of LORD CODLINGSBY. 
 
 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 be 
 gan to sing, LORD CODLINGSBY felt as if he were lis- 
 
CODLINGSBY. 105 
 
 tening at the gates of Paradise, or were hearing JENNY 
 LIND. 
 
 " LIND is a name of the Hebrew race ; so is MEN 
 DELSSOHN, 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 SMITH, or RODGERS," RAFAEL 
 observed to his friend ; and, drawing the instrument 
 from his pocket, he accompanied 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," COD 
 LINGSBY 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 
 lood too in our veins," he said. " You smile ; but it 
 is even so. An ancestress of ours made a mesalliance 
 in the reign of your KING JOHN. Her name was 
 
 REBECCA, daughter of ISAAC OF YORK, and she mar- 
 5* 
 
106 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 ried in Spain, whither she had fled to the Court of 
 KING BOABDIL, SIR WILFRID OF IVANHOE, then a 
 widower by the demise of his first lady, ROWENA. 
 The match was deemed a cruel insult amongst our 
 people ; but WILFRID conformed, and was a Rabbi 
 of some note at the synagogue at Cordova. We are 
 descended from him lineally. It is the only blot 
 upon the escutcheon of the MENDOZAS." 
 
 As they sate 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 business 
 with him. 
 
 First it was MR. AMINIDAB, who kissed his foot, 
 and brought papers to sign. " How is the house in 
 Grosvenor Square, AMINIDAB ; and is your son tired 
 of his yacht yet ? " MENDOZA 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, ou the 
 affair of his mortgage. The LORD BAREACRES, strut 
 ting 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 
 
CODL1NGSBY. 107 
 
 heels of the noble, " take this gentleman out and let 
 him have ten thousand pounds. I can t do more for 
 you, my lord, than this I m busy. Good bye ! " and 
 RAFAEL waved his hand to the peer, and fell to 
 smoking his Nargilly. 
 
 A man with a square face, cat-like eyes, and a 
 yellow moustache, 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 
 GROGOMOFFSKI ? " 
 
 " 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 Fri 
 day, and almost sunset?" The Calmuck envoy re 
 tired cringing, and left an odour of musk and candle- 
 grease behind him. 
 
 An orange-man ; an emissary from LOLA MONTES ; 
 a dealer in piping bulfinches ; and a Cardinal in dis 
 guise, with a proposal for a new loan for the Pope, 
 were heard by turns, and each, after a rapid colloquy 
 in his own language, was dismissed by RAFAEL. 
 
 " The QUEEN must come back from Aranjuez, or 
 
108 PUNCH S PRIZE NOVELISTS. 
 
 that king must be disposed of," RAFAEL exclaimed, 
 as a yellow-faced ambassador from Spain, GENERAL 
 THE DUKE OF OLLA 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 Holy well Street the centre of Europe, when three 
 knocks of a peculiar nature were heard, and MEN- 
 DOZA, starting up, said, " Ha ! there are onty four 
 men in the world who know that signal." At once, 
 and with a reverence quite distinct from his former 
 nonchalant 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 un 
 fathomable about his mouth there played an inscru 
 table smile. He had a cotton umbrella, and old 
 trowsers, and old boots, and an old wig, curling at 
 the top like a rotten old pear. 
 
 He sate down as if tired, in the first seat at hand, 
 as RAFAEL made him the lowliest reverence. 
 
 " I am tired," says he ; "I have come in fifteen 
 hours. I am ill at Neuilly," he added with a grin. 
 " Get me some eau sucree, and tell me the news. 
 PRINCE DE MENDOZA. These bread rows ; this un 
 popularity of G-UIZOT ; this odious Spanish conspiracy 
 against my darling MONTPENSIER and daughter ; this 
 ferocity of PALMERSTON against COLETTI, make me 
 
CODLINGSBY. 109 
 
 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 CODLINGSBY might easily have pleaded igno 
 rance of that tongue. But he had been at Cam 
 bridge, where all the youth acquire it perfectly. 
 
 " Sire" 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 ws," he whispered at the door ; " so is the 
 Pope of Rome ; so is * * * " a whisper con 
 cealed 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 FIFINE to 
 the Olympic." 
 
THE FAT CONTBIBUTOK. 
 
BRIGHTON. 
 
 BY THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 As there are some consumptive travellers, who, by 
 dodging about to Italy, to Malta, to Madeira, man 
 age to cheat the winter, and for whose lungs a per 
 petual warmth is necessary ; so there are people to 
 whom, in like manner, London is a necessity of exist 
 ence, and who follow it all the year round. Such in 
 dividuals, when London goes out of town, follow it to 
 Brighton, which is, at this season, London plus prawns 
 for breakfast and the sea-air. Blessings on the sea- 
 air, which gives you an appetite to eat them ! 
 
 You may get a decent bed-room and sitting-room 
 here for a guinea a day. Our friends the BOTIBOLS 
 have three rooms, and a bedstead disguised like a 
 chest of drawers in the drawing-room, for which they 
 pay something less than a hundred pounds a month. 
 I could not understand last night why the old gen 
 tleman, who usually goes to bed early, kept yawning 
 
114 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 and fidgetting in the drawing-room after tea ; until, 
 with some hesitation, he made the confession that the 
 apartment in question was his bed-room, and revealed 
 the mystery of the artful chest of drawers. BOTIBOL S 
 house in Bedford Square is as spacious as an Italian 
 palace : the second-floor front, in which the worthy 
 man sleeps, would accommodate a regiment, and here 
 they squeeze him into a chijfonniere ! How MRS. B. 
 and the four delightful girls can be stowed away in 
 the back room, I tremble to think: what bachelor 
 has a right to ask ? But the air of the sea makes up 
 for the closeness of the lodgings. I have just seen 
 them on the Cliff mother and daughters were all 
 blooming like crimson double dahlias ! 
 
 You meet everybody on that Cliff. For a small 
 charge you may hire the very fly in which I rode ; 
 with the very horse, and the very postilion, in a pink 
 striped chintz jacket which may have been the cover 
 of an arm-chair once and straight whitey-brown 
 hair, and little wash-leather inexpressibles, the cheap 
 est little caricature of a post-boy eyes have ever 
 lighted on. I seldom used to select his carriage, for 
 the horse and vehicle looked feeble, and unequal to 
 bearing a person of weight ; but, last Sunday, I saw 
 an Israelitish family of distinction ensconced in the 
 poor little carriage the ladies with the most flaming 
 polkas, and flounces all the way up ; the gent, in vel 
 vet waistcoat, with pins in his breast big enough once 
 
BRIGHTON. 115 
 
 to have surmounted the door of his native pawn 
 broker s shop, and a complement of hook-nosed chil 
 dren, magnificent in attire. Their number and mag 
 nificence did not break the carriage down ; the little 
 postilion bumped up and down as usual, as the old 
 horse went his usual pace. How they spread out, 
 and basked, and shone, and were happy in the sun 
 there those honest people ! The Mosaic Arabs 
 abound here ; and they rejoice and are idle with a 
 grave and solemn pleasure, as becomes their Eastern 
 origin. 
 
 If you don t mind the expense, hire a ground- 
 floor window on the Cliff, and examine the stream of 
 human nature which passes by. That stream is a 
 league in length ; it pours from Brunswick Terrace 
 to Kemp Town, and then tumbles back again ; and 
 so rolls, and as it rolls perpetually, keeps rolling on 
 from three o clock till dinner-time. 
 
 Ha ! what a crowd of well-known London faces 
 you behold here only the sallow countenances look 
 pink now, and devoid of care. I have seen this very 
 day, at least 
 
 Forty-nine Railroad directors, who would have 
 been at Baden-Baden but for the lines in pro 
 gress ; and who, though breathing the fresh 
 air, are within an hour and a half of the City. 
 
 Thirteen barristers, of more or less repute, in 
 cluding the SOLICITOR-GENERAL himself, whose 
 
116 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 open and jovial countenance beamed with be 
 nevolence upon the cheerful scene. 
 A Hebrew dentist driving a curricle. 
 At least twelve well-known actors or actresses. 
 It went to my heart to see the most fashion 
 able of them, driving about in a little four- 
 wheeled pony-chaise, the like of which might 
 be hired for five shillings. 
 
 Then you have tight-laced dragoons, trotting up 
 and down with solemn, handsome, stupid faces, and 
 huge yellow mustachios. Myriads of flies, laden with 
 happy cockneys ; pathetic invalid chairs trail along, 
 looking too much like coffins already, in which poor 
 people are brought out to catch a glimpse of the sun. 
 Grand equipages are scarce ; I saw LADY WILHELMI- 
 NA WIGGINS S lovely nose and auburn ringlets peep 
 ing out of a cab, hired at half-a-crown an hour, 
 between her ladyship and her sister, the PRINCESS 
 OYSTEROWSKI. 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 The old gentleman who began to take lessons 
 when we were here three years ago, at the Tepid 
 Swimming Bath, with the conical top, I am given to 
 understand is still there, and may be seen in the 
 water, from nine till five. 
 
MEDITATIONS OVER BRIGHTON. 
 
 BY "PUNCH S" COMMISSIONER. 
 
 (From (he DevWs Dyke.) 
 
 WHEN the exultant and long-eared animal describ 
 ed in the fable revelled madly in the frog-pond, 
 dashing about his tail and hoof among the unfortu 
 nate inhabitants of that piece of water, it is stated, 
 that the frogs remonstrated, exclaiming, " Why, 
 donkey, do you come kicking about in our habita 
 tion ? It may be good fun to you to lash out, and 
 plunge, and kick in this absurd manner, but it is 
 death to us ; " on which the good-natured quadruped 
 agreed to discontinue his gambols ; and left the frogs 
 to bury their dead and rest henceforth undisturbed 
 in their pool. 
 
 The inhabitants of Brighton are the frogs and 
 I dare say they will agree as to the applicability of 
 the rest of the simile. It might be good fun to me 
 to " mark their manners, and their ways survey ; " 
 but could it be altogether agreeable to them ? I am 
 
118 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 sorry to confess it has not proved so, having received 
 at least three hundred letters of pathetic remon 
 strance, furious complaint, angry swagger, and threat 
 ening omens, entreating me to leave the Brighto- 
 nians alone. The lodging-house keepers are up in 
 arms. MRS. SCREW says she never let her lodgings 
 at a guinea a day, and invites me to occupy her 
 drawing and bed-room for five guineas a week. MR. 
 SQUEEZER swears that a guinea a day is an atrocious 
 calumny : he would turn his wife, his children, and 
 his bed-ridden mother in-law out of doors if he could 
 get such a sum for the rooms they occupy (but this, 
 I suspect is a pretext of SQUEEZER S to get rid of his 
 mother-in-law, in which project I wish him luck). 
 MRS. SLOP hopes she may never again cut a slice out 
 of a lodger s joint (the cannibal !) if she won t be 
 ready at the most crowdidest of seasons to let her first- 
 floor for six pounds : and finally, MR. SKIVER writes : 
 " Sir, your-ill advised publication has passed like 
 a whirlwind over the lodging-houses of Brighton. 
 You have rendered our families desolate, and prema 
 turely closed our season. As you have destroyed the 
 lodging-houses, couldn t you. now, walk into the board 
 ing-houses, and say a kind word to ruin the hotels ? " 
 And is it so ? Is the power of the Commission 
 er s eye so fatal that it withers the object on which it 
 falls ? Is the condition of his life so dreadful that 
 he destroys all whom he comes near ? Have I made 
 
MEDITATIONS OVER BRIGHTON. 119 
 
 a post-boy wretched five thousand lodging-house 
 keepers furious twenty thousand Jews unhappy? 
 If so, and I really possess a power so terrible, I had 
 best come out in the tragic line. 
 
 I went, pursuant to orders, to the Swiss Cottage, 
 at Shoreham, where the first object that struck my 
 eye was a scene, in the green lake there, which I am 
 credibly informed is made of pea-soup : two honest 
 girls were rowing about their friend on this enchant 
 ing water. There was a cloudless sky overhead 
 rich treats were advertised for the six frequenters of 
 the gardens ; a variety of entertainments was an 
 nounced in the Hall of Amusement. MR. and MRS. 
 AMINADAB (here, too, the Hebrews have penetrated) 
 were advertised as about to sing some of their most 
 favourite comic songs and * * * 
 
 But no, I will not describe the place. Why should 
 my fatal glance bring a curse upon it ? The pea- 
 soup lake would dry up leaving its bed a vacant 
 tureen the leaves would drop from the scorched 
 trees the pretty flowers would wither and fade the 
 rockets would not rise at night, nor the rebel wheels 
 go round the money-taker at the door would grow 
 mouldy and die in his moss-grown and deserted cell. 
 AMINADAB would lose his engagement. Why should 
 these things be, and this ruin occur ? James ! pack 
 the portmanteau and tell the landlord to bring the 
 
120 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 bill ; order horses immediately this day I will quit 
 Brighton. 
 
 Other appalling facts have come to notice : all 
 showing more or less the excitement created by my 
 publication. 
 
 The officers of the 150th Hussars, accused of 
 looking handsome, solemn, and stupid, have had a 
 meeting in the mess-room, where the two final epi 
 thets have been rescinded in a string of resolutions. 
 
 But it is the poor yellow-breeched postilion who has 
 most suffered. When the picture of him came out, 
 crowds flocked to see him. He was mobbed all the 
 way down the Cliff; wherever he drove his little 
 phaeton, people laughed, and pointed with the finger 
 and said. " That is he." The poor child was thus 
 made the subject of public laughter by my interfer 
 ence and what has been the consequence? In 
 order to disguise him as much as possible, his Master 
 has bought him a hat. 
 
 The children of Israel are in a fury too. They 
 do not like to ride in flies since my masterly repre 
 sentation of them a fortnight since. They are giv 
 ing up their houses daily. You read in the Brighton 
 
 papers, among the departures, " NEBUZARADAN, 
 
 Esq., and family for London;" or SOLOMON RAMOTH- 
 GILEAD, Esq., has quitted his mansion in Marine Cres 
 cent ; circumstances having induced him to shorten 
 his stay among us ," and so on. The people emi- 
 
MEDITATIONS OVER BRIGHTON. 121 
 
 grate by hundreds ; they can t bear to be made the 
 object of remark in the public walks and drives and 
 they are flying from a city of which they might have 
 made a new Jerusalem. 
 
A BRIGHTON NIGHT ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 BY PUNCH S COMMISSIONER. 
 
 I HAVE always had a taste for the second-rate in 
 life. Second-rate poetry, for instance, is an uncom 
 mon deal pleasanter to my fancy than your great 
 thundering first-rate epic poems. Your MILTONS and 
 D ANTES are magnificent, "but ajhfire. : whereas an 
 ode of HORACE, or a song of TOMMY MOORE, is always 
 fresh, sparkling, and welcome. Second-rate claret, 
 again, is notoriously better than first-rate wine : you 
 get the former genuine, whereas the latter is a loaded 
 and artificial composition that cloys the palate and 
 bothers the reason. 
 
 Second-rate beauty in women is likewise, I main 
 tain, more agreeable than first-rate charms. Your 
 first-rate Beauty is grand, severe, awful a faultless, 
 frigid angel of five feet nine superb to behold at 
 church, or in the park, or at a drawing-room but ah ! 
 how inferior to a sweet little second-rate creature, 
 with smiling eyes, and a little second-rate nez re- 
 trousst, with which you fall in love in a minute. 
 
A BRIGHTON NTGHT ENTERTAINMENT. 123 
 
 Second-rate novels I also assert to be superior to 
 the best works of fiction. They give you no trouble 
 to read, excite no painful emotions you go through 
 them with a gentle, languid, agreeable interest. MR. 
 JAMES S romances are perfect in this way. ^ The ne 
 plus ultra of indolence may be enjoyed during their 
 perusal. 
 
 For the same reason, I like second-rate theatrical 
 entertainments a good little company in a provincial 
 town, acting good old stupid stock comedies and farces ; 
 where nobody comes to the theatre, and you may lie 
 at ease in the pit, and get a sort of intimacy with 
 each actor and actress, and know every bar of the 
 music that the three or four fiddlers of the little or 
 chestra play throughout the season. 
 
 The Brighton Theatre would be admirable but 
 for one thing MR. HOOPER, the Manager, will per 
 sist in having Stars down from London blazing 
 MACREADYS, resplendent Miss CUSHMANS, fiery WAL- 
 LACKS, and the like. On these occasions it is very 
 possible that the house may be filled and the Mana 
 ger s purpose answered ; but where does all your 
 comfort go then 1 ? You can t loll over four benches 
 in the pit you are squeezed and hustled in an in 
 convenient crowd there you are fatigued by the per 
 petual struggles of the apple-and-ginger-beer boy, who 
 will pass down your row and for what do you un 
 dergo this labour ? To see Hamlet and Lady Mac- 
 
124 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOK. 
 
 j forsooth ! as if every body had not seen them a 
 thousand times. No, on such star nights " The Com 
 missioner " prefers a walk on the Cliff to the charms 
 of the Brighton Theatre. I can have first-rate trag 
 edy in London : in the country give me good old 
 country fare the good old comedies and farces the 
 dear good old melodramas. 
 
 We had one the other day in perfection. We 
 were, I think, about four of us in the pit ; the ginger- 
 beer boy might wander about quite at his ease. There 
 was a respectable family in a private box, and some 
 pleasant fellows in the gallery ; and we saw, with 
 leisure and delectation, that famous old melodrama, 
 The Warlock of the Glen. 
 
 In a pasteboard cottage, on the banks of the 
 Atlantic Ocean, there lived once a fisherman, who had 
 a little canvass boat, in which it is a wonder he was 
 never swamped, for the boat was not above three feet 
 long ; and I was astonished at his dwelliog in the 
 cottage, too ; for, though a two-storied one, it was not 
 above five feet high ; and I am sure the fisherman 
 was six feet without his shoes. 
 
 As he was standing at the door of his cot, looking 
 at some young persons of the neighbourhood who were 
 dancing a reel, a scream was heard, as issuing from 
 the neighbouring forest, and a lady with dishevelled 
 hair, and a beautiful infant in her hand, rushed in. 
 What meant that scream? We were longing to 
 
A BRIGHTON NIGHT ENTERTAINMENT. I k 25 
 
 know, but the gallery insisted on the reel over again, 
 and the poor injured lady had to wait until the dance 
 was done before she could explain her unfortunate 
 case. 
 
 It was briefly this : she was no other than Adela^ 
 Countess of Glencairn ; the boy in her hand was 
 Glencairris only child : three years since her gallant 
 husband had fallen in fight, or, worse still, by the 
 hand of the assassin. 
 
 He had left a brother, Clanronald. What was 
 the conduct of that surviving relative ? Was it fra 
 ternal towards the widowed Adela ? Was it avun 
 cular to the orphan boy ? Ah, no ! For three years 
 he had locked her up in his castle, under pretence 
 that she was mad, pursuing her all the while with his 
 odious addresses. But she loathed his suit ; and, 
 refusing to become Mrs. (or Lady) Clanronald, took 
 this opportunity to escape and fling herself on the 
 protection of the loyal vassals of her lord. 
 
 She had hardly told her pathetic tale when voices 
 were heard without. Cries of " Follow ! follow ! " re 
 sounded through the wildwood ; the gentlemen and 
 ladies engaged in the reel fled, and the Countess and 
 her child, stepping into the skiff, disappeared down 
 a slote. to the rage and disappointment of Clanronald, 
 who now arrived a savage-looking nobleman indeed ! 
 and followed by two ruffians, of most ferocious aspect, 
 and having in their girdles a pair of those little 
 
126 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 notched dumpy swords, with round iron hilts to guard 
 the knuckles, by which I knew that a combat would 
 probably take place ere long. And the result proved 
 that I was right. 
 
 Flying along the wild margent of the sea, in the 
 next act, the poor Adda was pursued by Clatiro- 
 nald ; but though she jumped into the waves to avoid 
 him, the unhappy lady was rescued from the briny 
 element, and carried back to her prison ; Clanronald 
 swearing a dreadful oath that she should marry him 
 that very day. 
 
 He meanwhile gave orders to his two ruffians, 
 Murdoch and Hamish, to pursue the little boy into 
 the wood, and there there murder him. 
 
 But there is always a power in melodramas that 
 watches over innocence ; and these two wretched 
 ones were protected by THE WARLOCK OP THE GLEN. 
 
 All through their misfortunes, this mysterious 
 being watched them with a tender interest. When 
 the two ruffians were about to murder the child, he 
 and the fisherman rescued him their battle swords 
 (after a brief combat of four) sank powerless before 
 his wizard staff, and they fled in terror. 
 
 Haste we to the Castle of Grlencairn. What cer 
 emony is about to take place ? What has assembled 
 those two noblemen, and those three ladies in calico 
 trains ? A marriage ! But what a union ! The lady 
 Adela is dragged to the chapel-door by the trusculent 
 
A BRIGHTON NIGHT ENTERTAINMENT. 127 
 
 Clanronald. "Lady," he says, "you are mine. Re 
 sistance is unavailing. Submit with good grace. 
 Henceforth, what power on earth can separate you 
 from me ? " 
 
 " MINE CAN," cries the Warlock of the Glen, rush 
 ing in. Tyrant and assassin of thy brother ! know 
 that Glencairn Grlencairn, thy brother and Lord, 
 whom thy bravos were commissioned to slay know 
 that, for three years, a solemn vow (sworn to the vil 
 lain that spared his life, and expired yesterday) bound 
 him never to reveal his existence know that he is 
 near at hand ; and repent, while yet there is time," 
 
 The lady Adela s emotion may be guessed when 
 she heard this news : but Clanronald, received it with 
 contemptuous scepticism. " And where is this dead 
 man come alive ? " laughed he. 
 
 "He ie HERE," shouted the Warlock of the Glen: 
 and to fling away his staff to dash off his sham beard 
 and black gown to appear in a red dress, with tights 
 and yellow boots, as became Glencairn s earl was 
 the work of a moment. The Countess recognized 
 him with a scream of joy. Clanronald retired, led 
 off by two soldiers ; and the joy of the Earl and 
 Countess was completed by the arrival of their only 
 son (a clever little girl of the Hebrew persuasion) in 
 the arms of the fisherman. 
 
 The curtain fell on this happy scene. The fiddlers 
 had ere this disappeared. The ginger-beer boy went 
 
128 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 home to a virtuous family, that was probably looking 
 out for him. The respectable family in the boxes 
 went off in a fly. The little audience spread abroad, 
 and were lost in the labyrinths of the city. The 
 lamps of the Theatre Royal were extinguished : and 
 all all was still. 
 
BRIGHTON IN 1847. 
 
 BY THE F. C. 
 I. 
 
 HAVE the kindness, my dear PUGSBY, to despatch 
 me a line when they have done painting the smoking- 
 room at the Megatherium, that I may come back to 
 town. After suffering as we have all the year, not 
 so much from the bad ventilation of the room, as 
 from the suffocating dulness of WHEEZER, SNOOZER, 
 and WHIFFLER, who frequent it. I had hoped for 
 quiet by the sea-shore here, and that our three abom 
 inable acquaintances had quitted England. 
 
 I had scarcely been ten minutes in the place, my 
 ever dear PUGSBY, when I met old SNOOZER walking 
 with young DE BOSKY, of the Tatters-and-Starvation 
 Club, on the opposite side of our square, and ogling 
 the girls on the Cliff, the old wretch, as if he had not 
 a wife and half-a-dozen daughters of his own, in 
 Pocklington Square. He hooked on to my arm as 
 if he had been the Old Man of the Sea, and I found 
 
 myself introduced to young DE BOSKY, a man whom 
 
 6* 
 
130 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 I have carefully avoided as an odious and disrepu 
 table tiger, the tuft on whose chin has been always 
 particularly disagreeable to me, and who is besides 
 a Captain, or Commodore, or some such thing, in the 
 Bundelcund Cavalry. The clink and glitter of his 
 spurs is perfectly abominable : he is screwed so tight 
 in his waistband that I wish it could render him 
 speechless (for when he does speak he is so stupid 
 that he sends you to sleep while actually walking 
 with him) ; and as for his chest, which he bulges out 
 against the shoulders of all the passers-by, I am sure 
 that he carries a part of his wardrobe in it, and that 
 he is wadded with stockings and linen as if he were 
 a walking carpet-bag. 
 
 This fellow saluted two-thirds of the carriages 
 which passed, with a knowing nod, and a military 
 swagger so arrogant, that I feel continually the great 
 est desire to throttle him. 
 
 Well, Sir, before we had got from the Tepid 
 Swimming Bath to MUTTON S the pastrycook s, whom 
 should we meet but WHEEZER, to be sure. WHEEZER, 
 driving up and down the Cliff at half-a-crown an hour, 
 with his hideous family, MRS. WHEEZER, the Miss 
 WHEEZERS in fur tippets and drawn bonnets with 
 spring-flowers in them, a huddle and squeeze of little 
 WHEEZERS sprawling and struggling on the back 
 seat of the carriage, and that horrible boy whom 
 WHEEZER brings to the Club sometimes, actually 
 
BRIGHTON IN 184T. 131 
 
 seated on the box of the fly, and ready to drive, if 
 the coachman should be intoxicated or inclined to 
 relinquish his duty. 
 
 WHEEZER sprang out of the vehicle with a cordi 
 ality that made me shudder. " Hullo, my boy !" said 
 he, seizing my trembling hand. " What ! you here ? 
 Hang me if the whole Club isn t here. I m at 56, 
 Horse Marine Parade. Where are you lodging? 
 We re out for a holiday, and will make a jolly time 
 of it." 
 
 The benighted, the conceited "old wretch ! He 
 would not let go my hand until I told him where I 
 resided at MRS. MUGGERIDGE S in Black Lion Street, 
 where I have a tolerable view of the sea, if I risk the 
 loss of my equilibrium and the breakage of my back, 
 by stretching three quarters of my body out of my 
 drawing-room window. 
 
 As he stopped to speak to me, his carriage of 
 course stopped likewise, forcing all the vehicles in 
 front and behind him, to halt or to precipitate them 
 selves over the railings on to the shingles and the 
 sea. The cabs, the flys, the shandrydans, the sedan- 
 chairs with the poor old invalids inside ; the old 
 maids , the dowagers chariots, out of which you see 
 countenances scarcely less deathlike ; the stupendous 
 cabs, out of which the whiskered heroes of the gallant 
 Onety-oneth look down on us people on foot; the 
 hacks mounted by young ladies from the equestrian 
 
132 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 schools, by whose sides the riding-masters canter 
 confidentially everybody stopped. There was a 
 perfect strangury in the street ; and I should have 
 liked not only to throttle DE BOSKY, but to massacre 
 WHEEZER, too. 
 
 The wretched though unconscious being insisted 
 on nailing me for dinner before he would leave me ; 
 and I heard him say (that is. by the expression of 
 his countenance, and the glances which his wife and 
 children cast at me, I knew he said), " That is the 
 young and dashing EOLKSTONE CANTERBURY, the cele 
 brated contributor to Punch" 
 
 The crowd, Sir, on the Cliff was perfectly fright 
 ful. It is my belief nobody goes abroad any more. 
 Everybody is at Brighton. I met three hundred at 
 least of our acquaintances in the course of a quarter 
 of an hour, and before we could reach Brunswick 
 Square I met dandies. City men, Members of Parlia 
 ment. I met my tailor walking with his wife, with 
 a geranium blooming in his wretched button-hole, as 
 if money wasn t tight in the City, and everybody had 
 paid him everything everybody owed him. I turned 
 and sickened at the sight of that man. : SNOOZER," 
 said I, " I will go on the Pier." 
 
 I went, and to find what? WHIFFLER, by all 
 that is unmerciful ! WHIFFLER, whom we see every 
 day, in the same chair, at the Megatherium. WHIF 
 FLER, whom not to see is to make all the good fellows 
 
BRIGHTON IN 184T. 133 
 
 at the Club happy. I have seen him every day, and 
 many times a day since. At the moment of our first 
 rencontre I was so saisi, so utterly overcome by rage 
 and despair, that I would have flung myself into the 
 azure waves sparkling calmly around me. but for the 
 chains of the Pier. 
 
 I did not take that aqueous suicidal plunge I 
 resolved to live, and why, my dear PUGSBY ? Who 
 do you think approached us ? Were you not at one 
 of his parties last season ? I have polked in his sa 
 loons, I have nestled under the mahogany of his 
 dining-room, at least one hundred and twenty thousand 
 times. It was MR. GOLDMORE, the East India Di 
 rector, with MRS. Gr. on his arm, and oh, Heavens ! 
 FLORENCE and VIOLET GOLDMORE, with pink para 
 sols, walking behind their parents ! 
 
 " What, you here ? " said the good and hospitable 
 man, holding out his hand, and giving a slap on the 
 boards (or deck I may say) with his bamboo, " hang 
 it, every one s here. Come and dine at seven. Bruns 
 wick Square." 
 
 I looked in VIOLET S eyes. FLORENCE is rather 
 an old bird, and wears spectacles, so that looking in 
 her eyes is out of the question. I looked in VIOLET S 
 2yes. and said I d come with the greatest pleasure. 
 
 " As for you, DE BOSKY " (I forget whether I 
 mentioned that the whiskered Bundelcund buck had 
 come with me on to the Pier, whither SNOOZER would 
 
134 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 not follow us, declining to pay the twopence) " as for 
 you, DE BOSKY, you may come, or not, as you like." 
 
 " Won t I," said he, grinning, with a dandified 
 Bundelcund nod, and wagging his odious head. 
 
 I could have wrenched it off and flung it to the 
 ocean. But I restrained my propensity, and we 
 agreed, that, for the sake of economy, we would go 
 to MR. G-OLDMORE S in the same fly. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE very first spoonful of the clear soup at the 
 Director s, told me that my excellent friend PARADOL 
 (the chef who came to MR. GOLDMORE, Portland Place, 
 when Gottlebury House was shut up by the lamented 
 levanting of the noble Earl) was established among 
 the furnaces below. A clear, brown soup none of 
 your filthy, spiced, English hell-broths, but light, 
 brisk, and delicate always sets me off for the evening : 
 it invigorates and enlivens me, my dear PUGSBY : I 
 give you my honour it does and when I am in a good 
 humour, I am, I flatter myself what shall I say? 
 well, not disagreeable. 
 
 On this day, Sir, I was delightful. Although 
 that booby DE BOSKY conducted Miss VIOLET GOLD- 
 MORE down stairs, yet the wretch, absorbed in his 
 victuals, and naturally of an unutterable dulness, did 
 not make a single remark during the dinner, whereas 
 
BRIGHTON IN 1847. 135 
 
 I literally blazed with wit. Sir, I even made one of 
 the footmen laugh a perilous joke for the poor fel 
 low, who, I dare say, will be turned off in conse 
 quence. I talked sentiment to FLORENCE (women in 
 spectacles are almost always sentimental) ; cookery to 
 SIR HARCOURT GULPH, who particularly asked my ad 
 dress, and I have no doubt intends to invite me to his 
 dinners in town ; military affairs with MAJOR BANG 
 LES of the Onety-oneth Hussars, who was with the 
 regiment at Aliwal and Ferozeshah, and drives about 
 a prodigious cab at Brighton, with a captured Sikh 
 behind, disguised as a tiger ; to MRS. GOLDMORE I 
 abused LADY TODDLE-ROWDY S new carriages and 
 absurd appearance (she is seventy-four, if she is a 
 day, and she wears a white muslin frock and frilled 
 trowsers, with a wig curling down her old back, and 
 I do believe puts on a pinafore, and has a little 
 knife and fork and silver mug at home, so girlish is 
 she) : I say, in a word and I believe without fear 
 of contradiction that I delighted everybody. 
 
 " Delightful man ! " said MRS. BANGLES to my ex 
 cellent friend, MRS. GOLDMORE. 
 
 " Extraordinary creature ; so odd, isn t he ? " re 
 plied that admirable woman. 
 
 " What a flow of spirits he has !" cried the 
 charming VIOLET. 
 
 " And yet sorrows repose under that smiling 
 mask, and those outbreaks of laughter perhaps con- 
 
136 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 ceal the groans of smouldering passion and the shrieks 
 of withering despair," sighed FLORENCE. " It is 
 always so ; the wretched seem to be most joyous. If 
 I didn t think that man miserable, I couldn t be hap 
 py," she added, and lapsed into silence. Little MRS. 
 DIGGS told me every word of the conversation, when 
 I came up the first of the gentlemen to tea. 
 
 " Clever fellow tlpt," said (as I am given to un 
 derstand) SIR HARCOURT G-ULPH. " I liked that no 
 tion of his about Croquignoles a la pouffarde : I 
 will speak to MOUFFLON to try it." 
 
 " I really shall mention in the Bank parlour to 
 morrow," the Director remarked, " what he said about 
 the present crisis, and his project for a cast-iron 
 currency : that man is by no means the trifler he pre 
 tends to be." 
 
 " Where did he serve ?" asked BANGLES. If he 
 can manosuvre an army as well as he talks about it, 
 demmy, he ought to be Commander-in-Chief. Did 
 you hear, CAPTAIN DE BOSKY, what he said about 
 pontooning the echelons, and operating with our re 
 serve upon the right bank of the river at Ferozeshah ? 
 Gad, Sir, if that mano3uvre had been performed, not 
 a man of the Sikh army would have escaped :" in 
 which case of course MAJOR BANGLES would have lost 
 the black tiger behind his cab ; but DE BOSKY did 
 not make this remark. The great stupid hulking 
 wretch remarked nothing ; he gorged himself with 
 
BRIGHTON IN 1847. 137 
 
 meat and wine, and when quite replete with claret, 
 strutted up to the drawing-room to show his chest 
 and his white waistcoat there. 
 
 I was pouring into VIOLET S ear (to the discom 
 fiture of FLORENCE, who was knocking about the 
 tea-things madly) some of those delightful nothings 
 with which a well-bred man in society entertains a 
 female. I spoke to her about the last balls in Lon 
 don about FANNY FINCH S elopement with TOM PAR 
 ROT, who had nothing but his place in the Foreign 
 Office about the people who were at Brighton 
 about MR. MIDGE S delightful sermon at church last 
 Sunday about the last fashions, and the next que 
 sais-je? when that brute DE BOSKY swaggered up. 
 
 " Ah, hum, haw," said he, " were you out raiding 
 to-day, Miss GOLDMAW ? " 
 
 Determined to crush this odious and impertinent 
 blunderer, who had no more wit than the horses he 
 bestrides, I resolved to meet him on his own ground, 
 and to beat him even on the subject of horses. 
 
 I am sorry to say, my dear PUGSBY, I did not 
 confine myself strictly to truth ; but I described how 
 I had passed three months in the Desert with an 
 Arab tribe : how I had a mare during that period, 
 descended from Boorawk, the mare of the Prophet, 
 which I afterwards sold for 50,000 piastres to MA 
 HOMET ALI ; and how, being at Trebizond, smoking 
 with the sanguinary Pasha of that place, I had bitted. 
 
138 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 saddled, and broke to carry a lady, a grey Turkoman 
 horse of his, which had killed fourteen of his grooms, 
 and bit off the nose of his Kislar Aga. 
 
 " Do join us in our ride to-morrow," cried VIO 
 LET ; " the downs are delightful." 
 
 " Fairest lady, to hear is to obey," answered I, 
 with a triumphant glance at DE BOSKY. I had done 
 his business, at any rate. 
 
 Well, Sir, I came at two o clock, mounted on one 
 of JIGGOT S hacks an animal that I know, and that 
 goes as easy as a sedan-chair, and found the party as 
 sembling before the Director s house, in the King s 
 Parade. There was young GOLDMORE the lovely 
 VIOLET, in a habit that showed her form to admira 
 tion, and a perfectly ravishing Spanish tuft in her 
 riding-hat, with a little gold whip and a little pair of 
 gauntlets a oroquer, in a word. MAJOR BANGLES 
 and lady were also of the party ; in fact we were a 
 gallant company of cavaliers, as JAMES says in his 
 novels ; and with my heels well down, and one of my 
 elbows stuck out, I looked, Sir, like the MARQUIS OF 
 ANGLESEA. I had the honour of holding VIOLET S 
 little foot in my hand, as she jumped into her saddle. 
 She sprang into it like a fairy. 
 
 Last of all the stupid DE BOSKY came up. He 
 came up moaning and groaning. " I have had a 
 kick in the back from a horse in the livery-stables," 
 says he ; "I can t hold this horse ; will you ride him. 
 
BRIGHTON IN 1847. 139 
 
 CANTERBURY ? " His horse was a black, wicked-look 
 ing beast as ever I saw, with blood-shot eyes and a 
 demoniacal expression. 
 
 What could I do, after the stories about Boorawk 
 and the PASHA OF TREBIZOND ? Sir, I was obliged 
 to get off my sedan-chair and mount the Captain s 
 Purgatory, as I call him a disgusting brute, and 
 worthy of his master. 
 
 Well, Sir. off we set Purgatory jumping from 
 this side of the road to t other, shying at Miss POG- 
 SON, who passed in her carriage (as well he might at 
 so hideous a phenomenon) plunging at an apple- 
 woman and stall going so wild at a baker s cart 
 that I thought he would have jumped into the hall- 
 door where the man was delivering a pie for dinner 
 and flinging his head backwards so as to endanger my 
 own nose every moment. It was all I could do to 
 keep him in. I tugged at both bridles till I tore his 
 jaws into a fury, I suppose. 
 
 Just as we were passing under the viaduct, whirr 
 came the streaming train with a bang, and a shriek, 
 and a whizz. The brute would hold in no longer : 
 he ran away with me. 
 
 I stuck my feet tight down in the stirups, and 
 thought of my mother with inexpressible agony. I 
 clutched hold of all the reins and a great deal of the 
 mane of the brute. I saw trees, milestones, houses, 
 villages, pass away from me away, away, away 
 
140 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 away by the corn-fields away by the wolds away 
 by the eternal hills away by the woods and preci 
 pices the woods, the rocks, the villages flashed by 
 me. 0, PUGSBY ! how I longed for the Megatherium 
 during that ride ! 
 
 It lasted, as it seemed to me, about nine hours, 
 during which I went over, as I should think, about 
 540 miles of ground. I didn t come off my hat did, a 
 new Lincoln and Bennett, but I didn t and at length 
 the infuriate brute paused in his mad career, with an 
 instinctive respect for the law, at a turnpike gate. I lit 
 tle knew the blessing of a turnpike until then. 
 
 In a minute BANGLES came up, bursting with 
 laughter. " You can t manage that horse, I think, 
 said the Major, with his infernal good nature. " Shall 
 I ride him? Mine is a quiet beast." 
 
 I was off Purgatory s back in a minute, and as I 
 mounted on BANGLES hackney, felt as if I was getting 
 into bed, so easy, so soft, so downy he seemed to me. 
 
 He said, though I never can believe it, that we 
 had only come about a mile and a half; and at this 
 moment the two ladies and DE BOSKY rode up. 
 
 " Is that the way you broke the PASHA OF TREBI- 
 ZOND S horse?" VIOLET said. I gave a laugh ; but it 
 _j,was one of despair. I should have liked to plunge a 
 dagger in DE BOSKY S side. 
 
 I shall come to town directly, I think. This 
 Brighton is a miserable Cockney place. 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES 
 
 BY OUR FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 [The relations, friends, and creditors of the singular and erratic being 
 who, under the title of the Fat Contributor (he is, by the way, the thinnest 
 mortal that ever was seen), wrote some letters in August last in this period 
 ical, have been alarmed by the sudden cessation of his correspondence ; 
 and the public, as we have reason to know from the innumerable letters we 
 have received, has participated in this anxiety. 
 
 Yesterday by the Peninsular and Oriental Company s steam-ship Tagus, 
 we received a packet of letters in the strange handwriting of our eccentric 
 friend; they are without date, as might be expected from the author s usu 
 al irregularity, but the first three letters appear to have been written at 
 sea, between Southampton and Gibraltar, the last from the latter-named 
 place. The letters contain some novel descriptions of the countries which 
 our friend visited, some neat and apposite moral sentiments, and some ani 
 mated descriptions of maritime life ; we therefore hasten to lay them be 
 fore the public. 
 
 He requests us to pay his laundress in Lincoln s Inn, " a small forgotten 
 account." As we have not the honour of that lady s acquaintance, and as 
 no doubt she reads this Miscellany (in company with every lady of the 
 land), we beg her to apply at our Office, where her claim, upon authentica 
 tion, shall be settled]. 
 
 HAVING been at Brussels for three whole clays (dur 
 ing which time I calculate, I ate no less than fifty-four 
 dishes at that admirable table- d hote at the Hotel de 
 Suede) ; time began to hang heavily upon me. Al 
 though I am fat, I am one of the most active men in 
 the Universe in fact, I roll like a ball and possess 
 a love of locomotion which would do credit to the 
 
142 THE FAT CONTRIBtTTOR. 
 
 leanest of travellers, GEORGE BORROW, CAPTAIN CLAP- 
 PERTON, or MUN.GO PARK. I therefore pursued a ra 
 pid course to Paris, and thence to Havre. 
 
 As Havre is the dullest place on earth, I quitted 
 it the next day by the Ariadne steamer the weather 
 was balm, real balm. A myriad of twinkling stars 
 glittered down on the deck which bore the Fat Con 
 tributor to his native shores the crescent moon 
 shone in a sky of the most elegant azure, and myriads 
 of dimples decked the smiling countenance of the 
 peaceful main. I was so excited I would not turn 
 into bed, but paced the quarter-deck all night, sing 
 ing my favourite sea songs all the pieces out of all 
 the operas which I had ever heard, and many more 
 tunes which I invented on the spot, but have forgot 
 ten long since. 
 
 I never passed a more delicious night. I lay 
 down happily to rest, folded in my cloak the eternal 
 stars above me, and beneath me a horse-hair mattress, 
 which the steward brought from below. When I 
 rose like a giant refreshed at morn, Wight was pass 
 ed ; the two churches of Southampton lay on my 
 right hand ; we were close to the pier. 
 
 " What is yonder steamer?" I asked of the stew 
 ard, pointing to a handsome, slim, black craft that lay 
 in the harbour, a flag of blue, red, white, and yellow, 
 on one mast ; a blue peter (signal of departure) at 
 another. 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 143 
 
 " That," said the steward, " is the Peninsular and 
 Oriental Steam Navigation Company s ship, Lady 
 Mary Wood. She leaves port to-day for Gibraltar, 
 touching on her way at Vigo, Oporto, Lisbon and 
 Cadiz." 
 
 I quitted the Ariadne JASON did the same in 
 Lempriere s Dictionary, and she consoled herself with 
 drinking, it is said I quitted the ship, and went to 
 the inn, with the most tremendous thoughts heaving, 
 panting, boiling, in my bosom ! 
 
 : Lisbon ! " I said, as I cut into a cold round of 
 beef for breakfast, (if I have been in foreign parts 
 for a week, I always take cold beef and ale for break 
 fast.) " Lisbon ! " I exclaimed, " the fleuve der Tage ! 
 the orange groves of Cintra ! the vast towers of Ma- 
 fra Belem, the Gallegos, and the Palace of Necessi- 
 dades ! Can I see all these in a week ? Have I 
 courage enough to go and see them 1 ?" I took an 
 other cut at the beef. 
 
 " What ! " continued I (my mouth full of muffin), 
 " is it possible that I, sitting here as I am, may with 
 out the least trouble, and at a trifling expense, trans 
 port myself to Cadiz, shining o er the dark blue sea, 
 to the land of the Sombrero and the Seguidilla of 
 the puchera, the muchacha, and the Abanico ? If I 
 employ my time well, I may see a bull-fight, an auto- 
 da-fi, or at least a revolution. I may look at the dark 
 eyes of the Andalusian maid flashing under the dark 
 
144 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 meshes of her veil ; and listen to ALMA VIVA S guitar, 
 as it tinkles under the balcony of ROSINA? What 
 time does the Mary Wood go, waiter ? " I cried. 
 
 The slave replied she went at half-past three. 
 
 " And does she make Gibraltar 1 " I continued. 
 ; Say, JOHN, will she land me at Gibel el Altar ? op 
 posite the coasts of Afric, whence whilom swarmed the 
 galleys of the Moor, and landed on the European 
 shores the dusky squadrons of the Moslemah 1 ? Do 
 you mean to say, THOMAS, that if I took my passage 
 in yon boat, a few days would transport me to the 
 scene renowned in British story the fortress seized 
 by ROOK, and guarded by ELLIOT ? Shall I be able 
 to see the smoking ruins of Tangiers, which the sav 
 age bully of Graul burned down in braggadocio 
 pride?" 
 
 " W ould you like anything for dinner before you 
 go ? " WILLIAM here rather sulkily interrupted me, 
 " I can t be a listening to you all day there s the 
 bell of 24 ringing like mad." 
 
 My repast was by this time concluded the last 
 slice of boiled beef made up my mind completely. I 
 went forth to the busy town I sought a ready-made 
 linen warehouse and in the twinkling of an eye I 
 purchased all that was necessary for a two months 
 voyage. 
 
 From that moment I let my mustachios grow. 
 At a quarter-past three, a mariner of a stout but 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 145 
 
 weather-beaten appearance, with a quantity of new 
 carpet-bags and portmanteaus, containing twenty-four 
 new shirts (six terrifically striped), two dozen ditto 
 stockings in brief, everything necessary for travel, 
 tripped lightly up the ladder of the Lady Mary 
 Wood. 
 
 I made a bow as I have seen T. P. COOKE do it 
 on the stage. " Avast there, my hearty," I said, " can 
 you tell me which is the skipper of this here craft, 
 and can a seaman get a stowage in her ? " 
 
 " I am the captain," said the gentleman, rather 
 surprised. 
 
 u Tip us your daddle, then, my old sea-dog, and 
 give us change for this here Henry Hase." 
 
 Twas a bank note for 100/. and the number was 
 33769. 
 
 II, 
 
 THE SHIP AT SEA. DOLORES ! 
 
 THE first thing that "a narrow-minded individual 
 does on shipboard is to make his own berth comfortable 
 at the expense of his neighbours. The next is to criti 
 cise the passengers round about him. 
 
 Do you remark, when Britons meet, with what a 
 
 scowl they salute each other, as much as to say, 
 
 " Bless your eyes, what the angel do you do here ? " 
 
 Young travellers, that is to say. adopt this fascinat- 
 
 7 
 
146 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 ing mode of introduction I am old in voyaging I 
 go up with a bland smile to one and every passenger. 
 I originate some clever observation about the fineness 
 of the weather if there are ladies, I manage to 
 make some side appeal to them, which is sure of a 
 tender appreciation : above all, if there are old ladies, 
 fat ladies, very dropsical, very sea-sick, or ugly ladies, 
 I pay them some delicate attention I go up and in 
 sinuate a pillow under their poor feet. In the inter 
 vals of sickness I whisper, " a leetle hot sherry and 
 water ! " All these little kindnesses act upon their 
 delicate hearts, and I know that they say to them 
 selves. " How exceedingly polite and well-bred that 
 stout young man is." 
 
 " It s a pity he s so fat," says one. 
 
 " Yes, but then he s so a ctive," ejaculates another. 
 
 And thus you, my dear and ingenuous youth who 
 read this, and whom I recommend to lay to heart 
 every single word of it I am adored by all my fel 
 low passengers. When they go ashore they feel .a 
 pang at parting with their amiable companion. I am 
 only surprised that I have not been voted several 
 pieces of plate upon these occasions perhaps, dear 
 youth, if you follow my example you may be more 
 lucky. 
 
 Acting upon this benevolent plan, I shall not 
 begin satirically to describe the social passengers that 
 tread with me the deck of the Lady Mary Wood. 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 147 
 
 I shall not, like that haughty and supercilious wretch 
 with the yellow whiskers, yonder, cut short the gentle 
 efforts at good fellowship which human beings around 
 me may make or grumble at the dinner, or the 
 head-wind, or the narrowness of the berths, or the 
 jarring of the engines but shall make light of all 
 these nay, by ingenuity, turn them to a facetious 
 and moral purpose. Here, for instance, is a pic 
 ture of the ship, taken under circumstances of 
 great difficulty over the engine-room the funnel 
 snorting, the ship s sides throbbing, as if in a fit of 
 
 There ! I flatter myself that is a master-piece of 
 perspective. If the Royal Academy would exhibit, 
 or MR. MOON would publish a large five guinea plate 
 of the "main-deck of a steamer," how the public 
 would admire and purchase ! With a little imagina 
 tion, you may fancy yourself on shipboard. Before 
 you is the iron grating, up to which you see peeping 
 every minute the pumping head of the engine ; on 
 the right is the galley, where the cook prepares the 
 victuals that we eat or not, as weather permits, near 
 which stands a living likeness of MR. JONES, the 
 third engineer; to the left and running along the 
 side of the paddle-boxes are all sorts of mysterious 
 little houses painted green, from which mates, mops, 
 cabin-boys, black engineers, and oily cook s-assistants 
 emerge : above is the deck between the two paddle- 
 
148 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 boxes on which the captain walks in his white trou 
 sers and telescope (you may catch a glimpse of the 
 former), and from which in bad weather he, speaking- 
 trumpet in hand, rides .the whirlwind and directs the 
 storm. Those are the buckets in case of fire ; see 
 how they are dancing about ! because they have 
 nothing else to do I trust they will always remain 
 idle. A ship on fire is a conveyance by which I 
 have no mind to travel. 
 
 Farther away, by the quarter-deck ladder, you 
 see accurate portraits of MESSRS. MAC WHIRTER 
 and MAC MURDO, of Oporto and St. Mary s, wine- 
 merchants ; and far, far away, on the quarter-deck, 
 close by the dark helmsman, with the binnacle shin 
 ing before his steadfast eyes, and the English flag 
 streaming behind him (it is a confounded head-wind) 
 you see my wildly beating, my too susceptible 
 heart ! you see DOLORES ! 
 
 I write her name with a sort of despair. I think 
 it is four hours ago since I wrote that word on the 
 paper. They were at dinner, but (for a particular 
 reason) I cared not to eat, and sat at my desk apart. 
 The dinner went away, either down the throats of the 
 eager passengers, or to the black caboose whence it 
 came dessert passed the sun set tea came the 
 moon rose she is now high in heaven, and the 
 steward is laying the supper things, and all this while 
 I have been thinking of DOLORES, DOLORES, DOLORES ! 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 149 
 
 She is a little far off in the picture ; but by the 
 aid of a microscope, my dear sir, you may see every 
 lineament of her delicious countenance every fold 
 of the drapery which adorns her fair form, and falls 
 down to the loveliest foot in the world ! Did you 
 ever see anything like that ankle ? those thin, open- 
 worked stockings make my heart thump in an in 
 describable rapture. I would drink her health out 
 of that shoe ; but I swear it would not hold more 
 than a liqueur glass of wine. Before she left us ah 
 me ! that I should have to write the words left us 
 I tried to make her likeness ; but the abominable 
 brute of a steam-engine shook so, that would you 
 believe it ? this is all I could make of the loveliest 
 face in the world ! 
 
 I look even at that with a melancholy pleasure. 
 It is not very like her, certainly ; but it was drawn 
 from her it is not the rose, but it has been near it. 
 Her complexion is a sort of goldjaolQur- her eyes of 
 a melting, deep j unfatliomably deep brown and as 
 for her hair, the varnish of my best boots for evening 
 parties is nothing compared to it for blackness and 
 polish. 
 
 She used to sit on the quarter-deck of sunny 
 afternoons, and smoke paper cigars oh if you could 
 have seen how sweetly she smiled and how prettily 
 she puffed out the smoke ! I have got a bit of one of 
 them which has been at her sweet lips. I shall get 
 
150 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 a gold box to keep it in some day when I ara in cash. 
 There she sat smoking, and the young rogues of the 
 ship used to come crowding round her. MAC 
 WHIRTER was sorry she didn t stop at Oporto, MAC 
 MURDO was glad because she was going to Cadiz I 
 warrant he was my heart was burst asunder with a 
 twang and a snap, and she carried away half of it in 
 the Malta boat, which bore her away from me for 
 ever. DOLORES was not like your common mincing 
 English girls she had always a repartee and a joke 
 upon her red lips which made every one around her 
 laugh some of these jokes I would repeat were it 
 not a breach of confidence ; and had they not been 
 uttered in the Spanish language, of which I don t 
 understand a word. So I used to sit quite silent and 
 look at her full in the face for hours and hours, and 
 offer her my homage that way. 
 
 You should have seen how DOLORES ate too ! 
 Our table was served four times a-day at breakfast, 
 with such delicacies as beefsteaks, bubble and squeak, 
 fried ham and eggs, hashed goose, twice-laid, &c. 5 
 of all which trifles little DOLORES would have her share 
 the same at dinner when she was well : and when 
 beneath the influence of angry Neptune the poor soul 
 was stretched in the berth of sickness, the stewards 
 would nevertheless bear away plates upon plates of 
 victuals to the dear suffering girl ; and it would be 
 u Irish stew for a lady, if you please, sir ? " " rabbit 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 151 
 
 and onions for the ladies cabin " " Duck, if you 
 please, arid plenty of stuffing, for the Spanish lady." 
 And such is our blind partiality when the heart is 
 concerned, that I admired that conduct in my 
 DOLORES which I should have detested in other peo 
 ple. For instance, if I had seen Miss JONES or 
 Miss SMITH making peculiar play with her knife, or 
 pulling out a tooth-pick after dinner, what would 
 have been my feelings ? 
 
 But I only saw perfection in DOLORES. 
 
 III. 
 
 FROM MY LOG-BOOK AT SEA, 
 
 WE are at sea yonder is Finisterre. 
 
 The only tempest I have to describe during the 
 voyage is that raging in my own stormy interior. It 
 is most provokingly uncomfortably fine weather. As 
 we pass Ushant there is not a cloud on the sky, there 
 scarcely seems a ripple on the water and yet oh 
 yet ! it is not a calm within. Passion and sea-sick 
 ness are raging there tumultuously. 
 
 "Why is it I cannot eat my victuals ? Why is it 
 that when Steward brought to my couch a plateful of 
 Sea-Pie (I called wildly for it, having read of the 
 dish in maritime novels), why is it that the onions of 
 which that delectable condiment seems to be mainly 
 
152 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 composed, caused a convulsive shudder to pass from 
 my nose through my whole agonised frame, obliging 
 me to sink "back gasping in the crib, and to forego all 
 food for many, many hours ? 
 
 I think it must be my love for DOLORES that 
 causes this deperate disinclination for food, and yet I 
 have been in love many times before, and I don t 
 recollect ever having lost my desire for my regular 
 four meals a day. I believe I must be very far gone 
 this time. 
 
 I ask FRANK, the Steward, how is the Senora ? 
 She suffers, the dear, dear soul ! She is in the ladies 
 cabin she has just had a plate of roast-pork carried 
 in to her. 
 
 She always chooses the dishes with onions she 
 comes from the sunny South, where both onions and 
 garlic are plentifully used and yet somehow, in the 
 depression of my spirits I wish, I wish she hadn t a 
 partiality for that particular vegetable. 
 
 It is the next day. I have lost almost all count 
 of time ; and only know how to trace it faintly, by 
 remembering the Champagne days Thursday and 
 Sunday. 
 
 I am abominably hungry. And yet when I tried 
 at breakfast !-- ^0 horror ! I was obliged to plunge 
 back to the little cabin again, and have not been 
 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 153 
 
 heard of since. Since then I have been lying on my 
 back, sadly munching biscuit and looking at the glim 
 mer of the sun through the deadlight overhead. 
 
 I was on the sofa, enjoying (if a wretch so mise 
 rable can be said to enjoy anything) the fresh breeze 
 which came through the open port-hole, and played 
 upon my dewy brow. But a confounded great wave 
 came flouncing in at the orifice, blinded me, wet me 
 through, wet all my linen in the carpet-bag, rusted 
 all my razors, made water-buckets of my boots, and 
 played the deuce with a tin of sweet biscuits which 
 have formed my only solace. 
 
 "Ha! Ha! What do I want with boots and 
 razors ? I could not put on a boot now if you were 
 to give me a thousand guineas. I could not shave 
 if my life depended on it. I think I could cut my 
 head off but the razors are rusty and would not cut 
 clean. DOLORES, DOLORES ! 
 
 The hunger grows worse and worse. It seems to 
 me an age since butcher s meat passed these lips: 
 and. to add to my misery, I can hear every word the 
 callous wretches are saying in the cabin ; the clatter 
 of the plates, the popping of the soda-water corks 
 or, can it be Champagne day, and I a miserable gro 
 veller on my mattress ? The following is the con 
 versation : 
 
 Captain. MR. JONES, may I have honour of a 
 
 7* 
 
154 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 glass of wine? FRANK, some Champagne to MR. 
 JONES. 
 
 Colonel Condy (of the Spanish service). That s a 
 mighty delicate ham, Mr. Carver, may I thrubble ye 
 for another slice ? 
 
 Mr. Mac Murdo (of St. Mary s, sherry-merchant). 
 Where does the Providore get this sherry ? If he 
 would send to my cellars in St. Mary s, I would put 
 him in a couple of butts of wine that shouldn t cost 
 him half the money he pays for this. 
 
 Mr. MacWhirter (of Oporto). The sherry s good 
 enough for sherry, which is never worth the drinking ; 
 but the port is abominable. Why doesn t he come 
 to our house for it ? 
 
 Captain. There is nothing like leather, gentle 
 men. More Champagne. FRANK MR. BUNG, try the 
 maccaroni. MR. PERKINS, this plum-pudding is cap 
 ital. 
 
 Steward. Some pudding for MRS. BIGBODY in the 
 cabin, and another slice of duck for the Senora. 
 
 And so goes on the horrid talk. They are eating 
 she is eating ; they laugh, they jest. MR. SMITH 
 jocularly enquires, How is the fat gentleman that 
 was so gay on board the first day ? Meaning me, of 
 course ; and I am lying supine in my berth, without 
 even strength enough to pull the rascal s nose. I 
 detest SMITH. 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 155 
 
 Friday. Vigo ; its bay ; beauty of its environs. 
 Nelson. 
 
 Things look more briskly ; the swell has gone 
 down. We are upon deck again. We have break 
 fasted. We have made up for the time lost in absti 
 nence during the two former days. DOLORES is on 
 deck ; and when the spring sun is out, where should 
 the butterfly be but on the wing ? DOLORES is the 
 sun, I am the remainder of the simile. 
 
 It is astonishing how a few hours calm can make 
 one forget the long hours of weary bad weather. I 
 can t fancy I have been ill at all, but for those melan 
 choly observations scrawled feebly down in pencil in 
 my journal yesterday. I am in clean shining white- 
 ducks, my blue shirt-collars falling elegantly over a 
 yellow bandanna. My moustachios have come on 
 wonderfully ; they are a little red or so. But the 
 Spanish, they say, like fair faces. I would do any 
 thing for DOLORES but smoke with her ; that I con 
 fess I dare not attempt. 
 
 It appears it was THE BAY OF BISCAY that made 
 me so ill. We were in Vigo yesterday (a plague take 
 it ! I have missed what is said to be one of the most 
 beautiful bays in the world) ; but I was ill, and get 
 ting a little sleep ; and when it is known as a fact 
 that a NELSON was always ill on first going to sea, 
 need a Fat Contributor be ashamed of a manly and 
 natural weakness? 
 
156 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 Saturday. Description of Oporto. 
 
 We were off the bar at an exceedingly early hour 
 so early, that although a gun fired and waked me 
 out of a sound sleep, I did not rise to examine the 
 town. 
 
 It is three miles inland, and therefore cannot be 
 seen. It is famous for the generous wine which bears 
 the name of port, and is drunk by some after dinner ; 
 by other, and I think wiser persons, simply after 
 cheese. 
 
 As about ten times as much of this liquor is 
 drunk in England as is made in Portugal, it is need 
 less to institute any statistical inquiries into the 
 growth and consumption of the wine. 
 
 Oporto was besieged by DON MIGUEL, the rightful 
 king, who, although he had MARSHAL BOURMONT and 
 justice on his side, was defeated by DON PEDRO and 
 British Valour. Thus may our arms ever triumph ! 
 These are the only facts I was enabled to gather 
 regarding Oporto. 
 
 New Passengers. On coming on deck, I was 
 made aware that we had touched land by the presence 
 on the boat of at least a hundred passengers, who had 
 not before appeared among us. They had come from 
 yigo, and it appears were no more disposed to rouse 
 at the morning gun than I was. 
 
 They were Gallegos going to Lisbon for service ; 
 
TRAVELLING NOTES. 157 
 
 and I wished that a better hand than mine viz., one 
 of those immortal pencils which decorate the columns 
 of our dear Punch had been there to take cogni 
 zance of these strange children of the South in their 
 scarfs and their tufted hats, with their brown faces 
 shining as they lay under the sun. 
 
 Nor were these "the only new passengers ; with 
 them came on board a half-dozen of Hungarian cloth- 
 sellers, one of whom as he lay upon two barrels, slept 
 the sleep of innocence sub Jove. 
 
 Again the same individual, but ah how changed ! 
 He is suffering from the pangs of sea-sickness, and I 
 have no doubt yearning for fatherland, or land of 
 some sort. But I am interrupted. Hark ! tis the 
 bell for lunch ! * 
 
 * Though our fat friend s log has heen in the present in 
 stance a little tedious, the observant reader may nevertheless 
 draw from it a complete and agreeable notion of the rise, pro 
 gress, and conclusion of the malady of sea-sickness. He is 
 exhausted ; he is melancholy ; Jhe is desperate ; he rejects his 
 victuals ; he grows hungry, but dares not eat ; he mends ; his 
 spirits rise ; all his faculties are restored to him ; and he eats 
 with redoubled vigour. This fine diagnosis of the maritime 
 complaint, we pronounce from experience may be perfectly 
 relied upon. 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 
 
 FROM OUR FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 I. 
 
 On board the P. & 0. Company s Ship, 
 
 " Burrumpooter" off Alexandria. 
 
 FAT CONTRIBUTOR, indeed ! I lay down my pen, 
 and smiling in bitter scorn as I write the sarcastic 
 title I remember it was that which I assumed when 
 my peregrinations began. It is now an absurd mis 
 nomer. 
 
 I forget whence I wrote to you last. We were 
 but three weeks from England, I think off Cadiz, 
 or Malta, perhaps I was full of my recollections of 
 Dolores full in other ways, too. I have travelled 
 in the East since then. I have seen the gardens of 
 Bujukdere and the kiosks of the Seraglio : I have 
 seen the sun sinking behind Morea s hills, and rising 
 over the red waves of the Nile. I have travelled 
 like BENJAMIN D ISRAELI, ULYSSES, MONCKTON MILNES, 
 and the eminent sages of all times. I am not the fat 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 159 
 
 being I was, (and proudly styled myself,) when I 
 left my dear, dear Pall Mall. You recollect my 
 Nugee dress-coat, with the brass buttons and Ca 
 nary silk lining, that the Author of the " Spirit of 
 the Age " used to envy ? I never confessed it but 
 I was in agonies when I wore that coat. I was 
 girthed in (inwardly) so tight, that I thought every 
 day after the third entree apoplexy would ensue 
 and had my name and address written most legibly 
 in the breast flap, so that I might be carried home in 
 case I was found speechless in the street on my 
 return from dinner. A smiling face often hides an 
 aching heart ; I promise you mine did in that coat, 
 and not my heart only, but other regions. There is 
 a skeleton in every house and mine no I wasn t 
 exactly a skeleton in that garment, but suffered secret 
 torments in it, to which, as I take it, those of the In 
 quisition were trifles. 
 
 I put it on t other day to dine with BUCKSHEESH 
 PASHA at Grand Cairo I could have buttoned the 
 breast over to the two buttons behind. My dear Sir 
 I looked like a perfect GUY. I am wasted away 
 a fading flower I don t weigh above sixteen and a 
 half now. Eastern Travel has done it and all my 
 fat friends may read this and consider it, It is 
 something at least to know. BYRON (one of us) took 
 vinegar and starved himself to get down the disa 
 greeable plenitude. Vinegar ? nonsense ! try East- 
 
160 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 era travel. I am bound to say, however, that it don t 
 answer in all cases. WADDILOVE, for instance, with 
 whom I have been making the journey, has bulged 
 out in the sun like a pumpkin, and at dinner you see 
 his coat and waistcoat buttons spirt violently off his 
 garments no longer able to bear the confinement 
 there. One of them hit COLONEL SOURCILLON plump 
 on the nose, on which the Frenchman * * But to 
 return to my own case. A man always speaks most 
 naturally and truly of that which occurs to himself. 
 
 I attribute the diminution in my size not to my 
 want of appetite, which has been uniformly good. 
 Pale ale is to be found universally throughout Tur 
 key, Syria, Greece, and Egypt, and after a couple of 
 foaming bottles of Bass, a man could eat a crocodile 
 (we had some at BUCKSHEESH PASHA S, fattened in 
 the tanks of his country villa of El Muddee, on the 
 Nile, but tough very fishy and tough) the appetite, 
 I say, I have found to be generally good in these 
 regions and attribute the ^corporeal diminution 
 
 Solely TO WANT OF SLEEP. 
 
 I give you my word of honour, as a gentleman, 
 that for seven weeks I have never slept a single wink. 
 It is my belief that nobody does in the East. You 
 get to do without it perfectly. It may be said of 
 these countries, they are so hospitable, you are never 
 alone. You have always friends to come and pass 
 the night with you, and keep you alive with their 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 161 
 
 amtujk. At Constantinople, at 
 Athens, Malta, Cairo, Gibraltar, it is all the same. 
 Your watchful friends persist in paying you atten 
 tion. The frisky and agile flea, the s_lpw but steady- 
 purposed bug the fairy mosquito, with his mellow- 
 sounding-horn, rush to welcome the stranger to their 
 shores and never leave him during his stay. At 
 first, and before you are used to the manners of the 
 country, the attention is rather annoying. 
 
 Man is a creature of habit. I did not at first 
 like giving up my sleep. I had been used to it in 
 England. I occasionally repined as my friends per 
 sisted in calling my attention to them, grew sulky 
 and peevish, wished myself in bed in London nay, 
 in the worst bed in the most frequented old. mouldy, 
 musty, wooden-galleried coach inn in Aldgate or Hoi- 
 born. I recollect a night at the Bull, in poor dear 
 old MRS. NELSON S time well, well, it is nothing to 
 the East. What a country would this be for TIFFIN, 
 and what a noble field for his labours ! 
 
 Though I am used to it now, I can t say but it is 
 probable that when I get back to England I shall 
 return to my old habits. Here, on board the Penin 
 sular and Oriental Company s magnificent steamship, 
 Burrumpooter* I thought of trying whether I could 
 sleep any more. I had got the sweetest little cabin 
 in the world ; the berths rather small and tight for 
 a man of still considerable proportions but every- 
 
162 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 thing as neat, sweet, fresh and elegant as the most 
 fastidious amateur of the night-cap might desire. I 
 hugged the idea of having the little palace all to my 
 self. I placed a neat white night-gown and my 
 favourite pink silk cap, on the top berth ready. The 
 sea was as clear as glass the breeze came cool and 
 refreshing through the port-hole the towers of 
 Alexandria faded away as our ship sailed westward. 
 My Egyptian friends were left behind. It would 
 soon be sunset. I longed for that calm hour, and 
 meanwhile went to enjoy myself at dinner with a 
 hundred and forty passengers from Suez, who laughed 
 and joked, drank Champagne and the exhilarating 
 Hodgson, and brought the latest news from Dumdum 
 Futtyghur. 
 
 I happened to sit next at table to the French 
 gentleman before mentioned, COLONEL SOTJRCILLON, 
 in the service of the RAJAH OF LAHORE, returning to 
 Europe on leave of absence. The Colonel is six feet 
 high of a grim and yellow physiognomy, with a red 
 ribbon at his button-hole, of course, and large black 
 mustachios, curling up to his eyes to one eye, that 
 is the other was put out in mortal combat, which 
 has likewise left a furious purple gash down one 
 cheek, a respectable but terrible sight. 
 
 " Vous regardez ma cicatrice," said the Colonel, 
 perceiving that I eyed him with interest. " Je 1 ai 
 rec,ue en Espagne, Monsieur, a la bataille de Vitto- 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 163 
 
 ria, que nous avons gagnee sur vous. J ai tue de 
 ma main le grrredin de Feldmarechal Anglais qui 
 m a donne cette noble blessure. Elle n est pas la 
 seule, Monsieur. Je possede encore soixante-qua- 
 torze cicatricees sur le corps. Mais j ai fait sonner 
 partout le grrrand nom de la Frrance. Yous etes 
 militaire, Monsieur ? Non ? Passez moi le poivre- 
 rouge, s il vous plait." 
 
 The Colonel emptied the cayenne pepper cruet 
 over his fish, and directed his conversation entirely 
 to me. He told me that ours was a perfidious 
 nation, that he esteemed some individuals, but de 
 tested the country, which he hoped to see ecrrrase 
 un jour. He said I spoke French with remarkable 
 purity ; that on board all our steamers there was an 
 infamous conspiracy to insult every person bearing the 
 name of Frenchman ; that he would call out the 
 Captain directly they came ashore ; that he could 
 not even get a cabin ; had I one ? On my affirma 
 tive reply, he said I was a person of such amiable 
 manners, and so unlike my countrymen, that he 
 would share my cabin with me and instantly shout 
 ed to the steward to put his trunks into number 202. 
 
 What could I do ? When I went on deck to 
 smoke a cigar, the Colonel retired, pretending a pe 
 tite sante, suffering a horrible mal de mer, and dread 
 ful shooting pains in thirty-seven of his wounds. 
 What, I say, could I do ? I had not the cabin to 
 
164 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 myself. He had a right to sleep there at any rate, 
 I had the best berth, and if he did not snore, my 
 rest would not be disturbed. 
 
 But ah ! my dear friends when I thought I 
 would go down and sleep the first sleep after seven 
 weeks fancy what I saw he was asleep in my 
 berth. 
 
 His sword, gun, and pistol-cases, blocked up the 
 other sleeping-place ; his bags, trunks, pipes, cloaks, 
 and portmanteaus, every corner of the little room. 
 
 " Qui VA LA ? " roared the monster, with a terri 
 fic oath, as I entered the cabin. " Ah ! c est vous, 
 Monsieur, pourquoi diable faites-vous tant de bruit ? 
 J ai une petite sante ; laissez moi dormir en paix." 
 
 I went upon deck. I shan t sleep till I get back 
 to England again. I paid my passage all the way 
 home : but I stopped, and am in quarantine at Malta. 
 I couldn t make the voyage with that Frenchman. I 
 have no money ; send me some, and relieve the mis 
 eries of him who was once 
 
 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 II. 
 
 ON THE PROSPECTS OF PUNCH IN THE EAST. 
 To tlw Editor of Punch (Confidential). 
 
 MY DEAR SIR In my last letter (which was intend 
 ed for the public eye), I was too much affected by 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 165 
 
 the recollection of what I may be permitted to call 
 the ARABIAN NIGHTS ENTERTAINMENTS, to allow me for 
 the moment to commit to paper that useful informa 
 tion, in the imparting of which your Journal our 
 Journal the world s Journal yields to none, and 
 which the British public will naturally expect from 
 all who contribute to your columns. I address my 
 self therefore privately to you, so that you may deal 
 with the facts I may communicate as you shall think 
 best for the general welfare. 
 
 What I wish to point out especially to your no 
 tice is, the astonishing progress of Punch in the East. 
 Moving according to your orders in strict incognito, 
 it has been a source of wonder and delight to me to 
 hear how often the name of the noble Miscellany was 
 in the mouths of British men. At Gibraltar its jokes 
 passed among the midshipmen, merchants, Jews, &c., 
 assembled at the hotel table (and quite unconscious 
 how sweetly their words sounded on the ear of a 
 silent guest at the board) as current, ay, much more 
 current, than the coin of the realm. At Malta, the 
 first greeting between CAPTAIN TAGUS and some other 
 Captain in anchor-buttons, who came to hail him 
 when we entered harbour, related to Punch. "What s 
 the news ? " exclaimed the other Captain. " Here s 
 Punch" was the immediate reply of TAGUS, handing 
 it out and the other Captain s face was suffused 
 with instant smiles as his enraptured eye glanced 
 
166 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 over some of the beauteous designs of LEECH. At 
 Athens, MR. SMITH, second-cousin of the respected 
 Vice-Consul, who came to our inn, said to me myste 
 riously, " I m told we ve got Punch on board." I 
 took him aside, and pointed him out (in confidence) 
 MR. WADDILOVE, the stupidest man of all our party, 
 as the author in question. 
 
 Somewhat to my annoyance (for I was compelled 
 to maintain my privacy), MR. W. was asked to a 
 splendid dinner in consequence a dinner which 
 ought by rights to have fallen to my share. It was 
 a consolation to me however to think, as I ate my 
 solitary repast at one of the dearest and worst inns 
 I ever entered, that though / might be overlooked, 
 Punch was respected in the land of SOCRATES and 
 PERICLES. 
 
 At the Piraeus we took on board four young gen 
 tlemen from Oxford, who had been visiting the scenes 
 consecrated to them by the delightful associations of 
 the Little Go ; and as they paced the deck and look 
 ed at the lambent stars that twinkled on the bay 
 once thronged with the galleys of THEMISTOCLES, 
 what, sir, do you think was the song they chanted in 
 chorus ? Was it a lay of burning SAPPHO ? Was it 
 a thrilling ode of ALC^EUS ? No ; it was 
 
 " Had I an ass averse to speed, 
 Deem ye I d strike him ? no, indeed," &c. 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 167 
 
 which you had immortalised, I recollect, in your 
 Vol. 6! (Donkeys, it -must be premised, are most 
 numerous and nourishing in Attica, commonly be 
 stridden by the modern Greeks, and no doubt exten 
 sively popular among the ancients unless human 
 nature has very much changed since their time.) 
 Thus we find that Punch is respected at Oxford as 
 well as in Athens, and I trust at Cambridge, like 
 wise. 
 
 As we sailed through the blue Bosphorus at mid 
 night, the Health of Punch was enthusiastically 
 drunk in the delicious beverage which shares his re 
 spectable name ; and the ghosts of HERO and LEAN- 
 DER must have been startled at hearing songs appro 
 priate to the toast, and very different from those with 
 which I have no doubt they amused each other in 
 times so affectingly described in LEMPRIERE S de 
 lightful Dictionary. I did not see the Golden Horn 
 at Constantinople, nor hear it blown, probably on ac 
 count of the fog ; but this I can declare, that Punch 
 was on the table at Miestre s Hotel, Pera, the spirited 
 proprietor of which little knew that one of its hum 
 blest contributors ate his pilaff. Pilaff, by the way, 
 is very good : kabobs are also excellent ; my friend, 
 MECHMET EFFENDI, who keeps the kabob shop, close 
 by the Rope-bazaar in Constantinople, sells as good 
 as any in town. At the Armenian shops, too, you 
 get a sort of raisin wine at two piastres a bottle, over 
 
168 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 which a man can spend an agreeable half hour. I 
 did not hear what the SULTAN ABDUL MEDJID thinks 
 of Punch, but of wine he is said to be uncommonly 
 fond. * 
 
 At Alexandria, there lay the picture of the dear 
 and venerable old face, on the table of the British 
 hotel ; and the 140 passengers from Burrumtollah, 
 Chowringhee, &c. (now on their way to England per 
 Burrumpooter), rushed upon it it was the July 
 number, with my paper, which you may remember 
 made such a sensation even more eagerly than on 
 pale ale. I made cautious inquiries amongst them 
 (never breaking the incognito) regarding the influ 
 ence of Punch in our vast Indian territories. They 
 say that from Cape Comorin to the Sutlege, and 
 from the Sutlege to the borders of Thibet, nothing is 
 talked of but Punch. DOST MAHOMMED never misses 
 a single number ; and the Tharawaddie knows the 
 figure of LORD BROUGHAM and his Scotch trowsers, 
 as well as that of his favourite vizier. Punch, my 
 informant states, has rendered his Lordship so popu 
 lar throughout our Eastern possessions, that were he 
 to be sent out to India as Governor, the whole army 
 and people would shout with joyful recognition. I 
 throw out this for the consideration of Government 
 at home. 
 
 I asked BUCKSHEESH PASHA (with whom I had 
 the honour of dining at Cairo) what his august 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 169 
 
 Master thought of Punch. And AT THE PYRAMIDS 
 but of these in another letter. You have here enough 
 to show you how kingly the diadem, boundless the 
 sway, of Punch is in the East. By it we are enabled 
 to counterbalance the influence of the French in 
 Egypt ; by it we are enabled to spread civilisation 
 over the vast Indian Continent, to soothe the irritated 
 feelings of the Sikhs, and keep the Burmese in good 
 humour. By means of Punch, it has been our priv 
 ilege to expose the designs of Russia more effectually 
 than URQUHART ever did, and to this SIR STRATFORD 
 CANNING can testify. A proud and noble post is that 
 which you, Sir, hold over the Intellect of the World; 
 a tremendous power you exercise ! May you ever 
 wield it wisely and gently as now ! " Subjectis par- 
 cere superbos debellare," be your motto ! I forget 
 whether I mentioned in my last that I was without 
 funds in quarantine at Fort Manuel, Malta, and shall 
 anxiously expect the favour of a communication from 
 you Poste Restante at that town. 
 
 With assurances of the highest consideration, 
 Believe me to be, Sir, 
 
 Your most faithful Servant and Correspondent, 
 The F CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 P. S. We touched at Smyrna, where I pur 
 chased a real Smyrna sponge, which trifle I hope 
 your lady will accept for her toilet ; some real Turkey 
 
170 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 rhubarb for your dear children ; and a friend going 
 to Syria has promised to procure for me some real 
 Jerusalem artichokes, which I hope to see flourishing 
 in your garden at . 
 
 [This letter was addressed " strictly private and 
 confidential " to us : but at a moment when all men s 
 minds are turned towards the East, and every infor 
 mation regarding " the cradle of civilisation " is 
 anxiously looked for, we have deemed it our duty to 
 submit our Correspondent s letter to the public. The 
 news which it contains are so important and startling 
 our correspondent s views of Eastern affairs so 
 novel and remarkable that they must make an im 
 pression in Europe. We beg the Observer, the Times, 
 &c., to have the goodness to acknowledge their au 
 thority, if they avail themselves of our facts. And 
 for us, it cannot but be a matter of pride and gratifi 
 cation to think on the testimony of a correspondent 
 who has never deceived us yet that our efforts for 
 the good of mankind are appreciated by such vast 
 and various portions of the human race, and that our 
 sphere of usefulness is so prodigiously on the in- 
 crease. Were it not that dinner has been announced 
 (and consequently is getting cold), we would add 
 more. For the present, let us content ourselves by 
 stating that the intelligence conveyed to us is most 
 welcome as it is most surprising, the occasion of 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 171 
 
 heartfelt joy, and, we hope, of deep future medita 
 tion.] 
 
 III. 
 
 ATHENS. 
 
 I SEND a picture of some beautiful windmills near 
 Athens, not I believe depicted by any other artist, 
 and which I daresay some people will admire because 
 they are Athenian windmills. The world is made 
 so. 
 
 I was not a brilliant boy at school the only 
 prize I ever remember to have got was in a kind of 
 lottery in which I was obliged to subscribe with sev 
 enteen other competitors and of which the prize was 
 a flogging. That I won. But I don t think I car 
 ried off any other. Possibly from laziness, or if you 
 please from incapacity, but I certainly was rather 
 inclined to be of the side of the dunces SIR WALTER 
 SCOTT, it will be recollected, was of the same species. 
 Many young plants sprouted up round about both of 
 us, I daresay, with astonishing rapidity but they 
 have gone to seed ere this, or were never worth the 
 cultivation. Great genius is of slower growth. 
 
 I always had my doubts about the classics. When 
 I saw a brute of a schoolmaster, whose mind was as 
 coarse-grained as any ploughboy s in Christendom ; 
 whose manners were those of the most insufferable of 
 
172 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 Heaven s creatures, the English snob trying to turn 
 gentleman ; whose lips, when they were not mouthing 
 Greek or grammar, were yelling out the most brutal 
 abuse of poor little cowering gentlemen standing be 
 fore him : when I saw this kind of man (and the in 
 structors of youth are selected very frequently indeed 
 out of this favoured class) and heard him roar out 
 praises, and pump himself up into enthusiasm for, 
 certain Greek poetry, I say I had my doubts about 
 the genuineness of the article. A man may well 
 thump you or call you names because you won t learn 
 but I never could take to the proffered delicacy ; 
 the fingers that offered it were so dirty. Fancy the 
 brutality of a man who began a Greek grammar with 
 " rum-Co, I thrash ! " We were all made to begin it 
 in that way. 
 
 When then I came to Athens, and saw that it was 
 a humbug, I hailed the fact with a sort of gloomy 
 joy. I stood in the Royal Square and cursed the 
 country which has made thousands of little boys 
 miserable. They have blue stripes on the new Greek 
 flag ; I thought bitterly of my own. I wished that 
 my schoolmaster had been in the place, that we might 
 have fought there for the right; and that I might 
 have immolated him as a sacrifice to the manes of 
 little boys flogged into premature Hades, or pining 
 away and sickening under the destiny of that infer 
 nal Greek grammar. I have often thought that 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 173 
 
 those little cherubs who are carved on tombstones 
 and are represented as possessing a head and wings 
 only, are designed to console little children usher 
 and beadle-belaboured and say " there is no flogging 
 where we are." From their conformation, it is im 
 possible. Woe to the man who has harshly treated 
 one of them ! 
 
 Of the ancient buildings in this beggarly town it 
 is not my business to speak. Between ourselves it 
 must be acknowledged that there was some merit in 
 the Heathens who constructed them. But of the 
 Temple of Jupiter, of which some columns still re 
 main, I declare with confidence that not one of them 
 is taller than our own glorious Monument on Fish- 
 Street-Hill, which I heartily wish to see again, whereas 
 upon the columns of Jupiter I never more desire to 
 set eyes. On the Acropolis and its temples and tow 
 ers I shall also touch briefly. The frieze of the Par 
 thenon is well-known in England, the famous chevauz 
 de frieze being carried off by LORD ELGIN, and now 
 in the British Museum, Great Russell Street, Blooms- 
 bury. The Erectheum is another building, which I 
 suppose has taken its name from the genteel club in 
 London at a corner of St. James s Square. It is like 
 wise called the Temple of Minerva Polias a capital 
 name for a club in London certainly ; fancy gentle 
 men writing on their cards " MR. JONES. Temple-of- 
 
174 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 Minerva-Polias Club." Our country is surely the 
 most classical of islands. 
 
 As for the architecture of that temple, if it be 
 not entirely stolen from St. Prancras Church, New 
 Road, or vice versa, I am a Dutchman. " The Tower 
 of the Winds " may be seen any day at Edinburgh 
 and the Lantern of Demosthenes is at this very min 
 ute perched on the top of the church in Regent Street, 
 within a hundred yards of the lantern of MR. DRUM- 
 MOND. Only in London you have them all in much 
 better preservation the noses of the New Road 
 Caryatides are not broken as those of their sisters 
 here. The temple of the Scotch winds I am pleased 
 to say I have never seen, but I have no doubt it is 
 worthy of the Modern Athens and as for the Cho- 
 ragic temple of Lysicrates, erroneously called Demos 
 thenes Lantern from Waterloo Place you can see it 
 well : whereas here it is a ruin in the midst of a 
 huddle of dirty huts, whence you try in vain to get a 
 good view of it. 
 
 When I say of the temple of Theseus (quoting 
 MURRAY S Guide-Book) that " it is a peripteral hexa- 
 style with a pronaos, a posticum and two columns 
 between the antae," the commonest capacity may per 
 fectly imagine the place. Fancy it upon an irregular 
 ground of copper-coloured herbage, with black goats 
 feeding on it, and the sound of perpetual donkeys 
 braying round about. Fancy to the south-east the 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 175 
 
 purple rocks and towers of the Acropolis meeting the 
 eye to the south-east the hilly islands and the blue 
 JBgean. Fancy the cobalt sky above, and the tem 
 ple itself (built of Pentelic marble) of the exact co 
 lour and mouldiness of a ripe Stilton cheese, and you 
 have the view before you as well as if you had been 
 there. 
 
 As for the modern buildings there is the Royal 
 Palace, built in the style of High-Dutch-Greek, and 
 resembling Newgate whitewashed and standing on a 
 sort of mangy desert. 
 
 The KING S German guards (^TTLT^OV^OL) have 
 left him perforce ; he is now attended by petticoated 
 Albanians, and I saw one of the palace sentries, as 
 the sun was shining on his sentry-box, wisely couched 
 behind it. 
 
 The Chambers were about to sit when we arrived. 
 The Deputies were thronging to the capital. One of 
 them had come as a third-class passenger of an Eng 
 lish steamer, took a first-class place, and threatened 
 to blow out the brains of the steward, who remon 
 strated with him on the irregularity. It is quite 
 needless to say that he kept his place and as the 
 honourable deputy could not read, of course he could 
 not be expected to understand the regulations impo 
 sed by the avaricious proprietors of the boat in ques 
 tion. Happy is the country to have such makers of 
 
176 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 laws, and to enjoy the liberty consequent upon the 
 representative system ! 
 
 Besides OTHO S palace in the great square, there 
 is another house and an hotel ; a fountain is going to 
 be erected, and roads even are to be made. At pres 
 ent the KING drives up and down over the mangy plain 
 before-mentioned, and the grand officers of state go 
 up to the palace on donkeys. 
 
 As for the Hotel Royal the Folkstone Hotel 
 might take a lesson from it they charge five shillings 
 sterling (the coin of the country is the gamma, lambda, 
 and delta, which I never could calculate) for a bed in 
 a double-bedded room ; and our poor young friend 
 SCRATCHLEY, with whom I was travelling, was com 
 pelled to leave his and sit for safety on a chair, on a 
 table in the middle of the room. 
 
 As for me but I will not relate my own paltry 
 sufferings. The post goes out in half an hour, and 
 I had thought ere its departure to have described to 
 you Constantinople and my interview with the Sultan 
 there his splendid offers the PRINCESS BADROUL- 
 BADOUR, the order of the Nisham, the Pashalic with 
 three tails and my firm but indignant rejection. I 
 had thought to describe Cairo interview with ME- 
 HE MET ALI proposals of that Prince splendid feast 
 at the house of my dear friend BUCKSHEESH PASHA, 
 dancing-girls and magicians after dinner, and their 
 extraordinary disclosures ! But I should fill volumes 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 177 
 
 at this rate ; and I can t, like MR. JAMES, write a 
 volume between breakfast and luncheon. 
 
 I have only time rapidly to jot down my great 
 
 ADVENTURE AT THE PYRAMIDS and Punches enthrO- 
 
 nization there. 
 
 IV. 
 
 PUNCH AT THE PYRAMIDS. 
 
 THE 19th day of October, 1844 (the seventh day 
 of the month Hudjmudj, and the 1229th year of the 
 Mohammedan Hejira, corresponding with the 16,769th 
 anniversary of the 48th incarnation of Veeshnoo), is 
 a day that ought hereafter to be considered eternally 
 famous in the climes of the East and West. I for 
 get what was the day of GENERAL BONAPARTE S battle 
 of the Pyramids ; I think it was in the month Quin- 
 tidi of the year Nivose of the French Republic, and 
 he told his soldiers that forty centuries looked down 
 upon them from the summit of those buildings a 
 statement which I very much doubt. But I say THE 
 19TH DAY OF OCTOBER, 1844, is the most important 
 era v in the modern world s history. It unites the 
 modern with the ancient civilisation ; it couples the 
 brethren of WATT and COBDEN with the dusky family 
 of PHARAOH and SESOSTRIS; it fuses HERODOTUS 
 with THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY ; it intertwines 
 
 8* 
 
178 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 the piston of the blond Anglo-Saxon steam-engine 
 with the Needle of the Abyssinian CLEOPATRA ; it 
 weds the tunnel of the subaqueous BRUNEL with 
 the mystic edifice of CHEOPS. Strange play of way 
 ward fancy ! Ascending the Pyramid, I could not 
 but think of Waterloo Bridge in my dear native 
 London a building as vast and as magnificent, as 
 beautiful, as useless, and as lonely. Forty centuries 
 have not as yet passed over the latter structure, tis 
 true ; scarcely an equal number of hackney-coaches 
 have crossed it. But I doubt whether the individuals 
 who contributed to raise it are likely to receive a 
 better dividend for their capital than the swarthy 
 shareholders in the Pyramid speculation, whose dust 
 has long since been trampled over by countless gene 
 rations of their sons. 
 
 If I use in the above sentence the longest words 
 I can find, it is because the occasion is great and de 
 mands the finest phrases the dictionary can supply ; 
 it is because I have not read TOM MACAULAY in vain ; 
 it is because I wish to show I am a dab in history, 
 as the above dates will testify ; it is because I have 
 seen the Reverend MR. MJLMAN preach in a black 
 gown at Saint Margaret s, whereas at the Coronation 
 he wore a gold cope. The 19th of October was 
 Punch s Coronation ; I officiated at the august cere 
 mony. To be brief as illiterate readers may not 
 understand a syllable of the above piece of ornamen- 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 179 
 
 tal eloquence ON THE 19ra OF OCTOBER, 1844, I 
 
 PASTED THE GREAT PLACARD OF PUNCH ON THE PY 
 RAMID OF CHEOPS. I did it. The fat contributor 
 did it. If I die, it could not be undone. If I perish, 
 I have not lived in vain. 
 
 If the forty centuries are on the summit of the 
 Pyramids, as BONAPARTE remarks, all I can say is, I 
 did not see them. But Punch has really been there ; 
 this I swear. One placard I pasted on the first 
 landing-place (who knows how long Arab rapacity 
 will respect the sacred hieroglyphic?). One I placed 
 under a great stone on the summit ; one I waved in 
 air, as my Arabs raised a mighty cheer round the 
 peaceful victorious banner ; and I flung it towards 
 the sky, which the Pyramid almost touches, and left 
 it to its fate, to mount into the azure vault and take 
 its place among the constellations ; to light on the 
 eternal Desert, and mingle with its golden sands ; or 
 to flutter and drop into the purple waters of the 
 neighbouring Nile, to swell its fructifying inundations, 
 and mingle with the rich vivifying influence which 
 shoots into the tall palm-trees on its banks, and gene 
 rates the waving corn. 
 
 I wonder were there any signs or omens in Lon 
 don when that event occurred? Did an earthquake take 
 place ? Did Stocks or the Barometer preternaturally 
 rise or fall ? It matters little. Let it suffice that 
 the thing has been done, and forms an event in His- 
 
180 THE PAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 tory by the side of those other facts to which these 
 prodigious monuments bear testimony. Now to nar 
 rate briefly the circumstances of the day. 
 
 On Thursday, October 1 7, 1 caused my dragoman 
 to purchase in the Frank bazaar at Grand Cairo the 
 following articles, which will be placed in the Museum 
 on my return. 
 
 A tin pot, holding about a pint, a packet of flour, 
 and a pig-skin brush of the sort commonly used in 
 Europe the whole costing about five piastres, or one 
 shilling sterling. They were all the implements 
 needful for this tremendous undertaking. 
 
 Horses of the Mosaic Arab breed, I mean those 
 animals called Jerusalem ponies by some in England, 
 by others denominated donkeys, are the common 
 means of transport employed by the subjects of 
 MEHEMET ALL My excellent friend BUCKSHEESH 
 PASHA would have mounted me either on his favour 
 ite horse, or his best dromedary. But I declined 
 those proffers if I fall, I like better to fall from a 
 short distance than a high one. I have tried tumbling 
 in both ways, and recommend the latter as by far the 
 pleasantest and safest. I chose the Mosaic Arab 
 then one for the dragoman, one for the requisites 
 of refreshment, and two for myself not that I pro 
 posed to ride two at once, but a person of a certain 
 dimension had best have a couple of animals in case 
 of accident. 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 181 
 
 I left Cairo on the afternoon of October 18, never 
 hinting to a single person the mighty purpose of my 
 journey. The waters were out, and we had to cross 
 them thrice twice in track-boats, once on the shoul 
 ders of abominable Arabs, who take a pleasure in 
 slipping and in making believe to plunge you in the 
 stream. When in the midst of it, the brutes stop and 
 demand money of you you are alarmed, the savages 
 may drop you if you do not give you promise that 
 you will do so. The half-naked ruffians who conduct 
 you up the Pyramid, when they have got you panting 
 to the most steep, dangerous, and lonely stone, make 
 the same demand, pointing downwards while they 
 beg, as if they would fling you in that direction on 
 refusal. As soon as you have breath, you promise 
 more money it is the best way you are a fool if 
 you give it when you come down. 
 
 The journey I find briefly set down in my pocket- 
 book as thus: Cairo Gardens Mosquitoes Women 
 dressed in blue Children dressed in nothing Old 
 Cairo Nile, dirty water, ferry-boat Town Palm- 
 trees, ferry-boat, canal, palm-trees, town Rice-fields 
 Maize-fields Fellows on dromedaries Donkey 
 down Over his head Pick up pieces More palm- 
 trees More rice-fields Water-courses Howling 
 Arabs Donkey tumble down again Inundations 
 Herons or cranes Broken bridges Sands Pyra 
 mids. If a man cannot make a landscape out of that 
 
182 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 he has no imagination. Let him paint the skies very 
 blue the sands very yellow the plains very flat and 
 green the dromedaries and palm-trees very tall 
 the women very brown, some with veils, some with 
 nose-rings, some tattooed, and none with stays and 
 the picture is complete. You may shut your eyes 
 and fancy yourself there. It is the pleasantest way, 
 entre nous. 
 
 V. 
 
 PUNCH AT THE PYRAMIDS. "*" 
 
 (CONCLtTDED.) 
 
 IT is all very well to talk of sleeping in the 
 tombs ; that question has been settled in a former 
 paper, where I have stated my belief that people do 
 not sleep at all in Egypt. I thought to have had 
 some tremendous visions under the shadow of those 
 enormous Pyramids reposing under the stars. PHA 
 RAOH or CLEOPATRA, I thought, might appear to me 
 in a dream. But how could they, as I didn t go to 
 sleep ? I hoped for high thoughts, and secret com- 
 munings with the Spirit of Poesy I hoped to have 
 let off a sonnet at least, as gentlemen do on visiting 
 the spot but how could I hunt for rhymes, being 
 occupied all night in hunting for something else ? If 
 this remonstrance will deter a single person from go 
 ing to the Pyramids, my purpose is fully answered. 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 183 
 
 But my case was different. I had a duty to per 
 form I had to introduce Punch to CHEOPS I had 
 vowed to leave his card at the gates of History I 
 had a mission, in a word. I roused at sunrise the 
 snoring dragoman from his lair. I summoned the 
 four Arabs who had engaged to assist me in the as 
 cent, and in the undertaking. We lighted a fire 
 of camel s dung at the North-East corner of the Pyr 
 amid, just as the god of day rose over Cairo ! The 
 embers began to glow, water was put into the tin pot 
 before mentioned, the pot was put on the fire twas 
 a glorious a thrilling moment ! 
 
 At 46 minutes past 6, A.M. (by one of DOLLOND S 
 Chronometers), the water began to boil. 
 
 At 47 minutes the flour was put gradually into 
 the water it was stirred with the butt-end of the 
 brush bought for the purpose, and SCHMAKLEK BEG, 
 an Arab, peeping over the pot too curiously, I poked 
 the brush into his mouth at 1 1 minutes before 7, A.M. 
 
 At 7, THE PASTE WAS MADE doubting whether it 
 was thick enough, SCHMAKLEK tried it with his finger. 
 It was pronounced to be satisfactory. 
 
 At 1 1 minutes past 7, I turned round in a ma 
 jestic attitude to the four Arabs, and said, " Let us 
 mount." I suggest this scene, this moment, this atti 
 tude, to the Committee of the Fine Arts as a proper 
 subject for the Houses of Parliament Punch point 
 ing to the Pyramids, and introducing civilisation to 
 
184 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 Egypt I merely throw it out as a suggestion. What 
 a grand thing the MESSIEURS FOGGO would make 
 of it! 
 
 Having given the signal the Sheikh of the 
 Arabs seized my right arm, and his brother the left. 
 Two volunteer Arabs pushed me (quite unnecessarily) 
 behind. The other two preceded one with a water- 
 bottle for refreshment ; the other with the posters 
 the pot the paint-brush and the paste. Away we 
 went away ! 
 
 I was blown at the third step. They are exceed 
 ingly lofty ; about 5 feet high each, I should think 
 but the ardent spirit will break his heart to win the 
 goal besides I could not go back if I would. The 
 two Arabs dragged me forward by the arms the 
 volunteers pushed me up from behind. It was in 
 vain I remonstrated with the latter, kicking violently 
 as occasion offered they still went on pushing. We 
 arrived at the first landing-place. 
 
 I drew out the poster how it fluttered in the 
 breeze ! with a trembling hand I popped the brush 
 into the paste pot, and smeared the back of the pla 
 card, then I pasted up the Standard of our glorious 
 leader at 19 minutes past 7, by the clock of the 
 great minaret at Cairo, which was clearly visible 
 through my refracting telescope. My heart throbbed 
 when the deed was done. My eyes filled with tears 
 I am not at liberty to state here all the emotions 
 
PUNCH IN THE EAST. 185 
 
 of triumph and joy which rose in my bosom so ex 
 quisitely overpowering were they. There was Punch 
 familiar old Punch his back to the desert, his 
 beaming face turned towards the Nile. 
 
 " Bless him !" I exclaimed, embracing him ; and 
 almost choking, gave the signal to the Arabs to 
 move on. 
 
 These savage creatures are only too ready to 
 obey an order of this nature. They spin a man 
 along be his size never so considerable. They rat 
 tled up to the second landing so swiftly that I 
 thought I should be broken-winded for ever. But 
 they gave us little time to halt. Yallah ! Again we 
 mount ! tis the last and most arduous ascent the 
 limbs quiver, the pulses beat, the eyes shoot out of 
 the head, the brain reels, the knees tremble and tot 
 ter, and you are on the summit ! I don t know how 
 many hundred thousand feet it is above the level of 
 the sea, but I wonder after that tremendous exercise 
 that I am not a roarer to my dying hour. 
 
 When consciousness and lungs regained their 
 play, another copy of the placard was placed under 
 a stone a third was launched into air in the man 
 ner before described, and we gave three immense 
 cheers for Punch, which astonished the undiscovered 
 mummies that lie darkling in tomb-chambers, and 
 must have disturbed the broken-nosed old Sphinx 
 who has been couched for thousands of years in the 
 
186 THE FAT CONTRIBUTOR. 
 
 desert hard by. This done, we made our descent 
 from the P} T ramids. 
 
 And if, my dear Sir, you ask me whether it is 
 worth a man s while to mount up those enormous 
 stones, I will say in confidence that thousands of peo 
 ple went to see the Bottle Conjuror, and that we 
 hear of gentlemen becoming Free-Masons every day. 
 
TEAVBLS IN LONDON. 
 
TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 THE CURATE S WALK. 
 I. 
 
 IT was the third out of the four bell -buttons at the 
 door at which my friend the curate pulled ; and the 
 summons was answered after a brief interval. 
 
 I must premise that the house before which we 
 stopped was No. 14, Sedan Buildings, leading out of 
 Great Guelph Street, Dettingen Street, Culloden 
 Street, Minden Square ; and Upper and Lower Car 
 oline Row form part of the same quarter a very 
 queer and solemn quarter to walk in, I think, and 
 one which always suggests FIELDING S novels to me. 
 I can fancy CAPTAIN BOOTH strutting out of the very 
 door at which we were standing, in tarnished lace, 
 with his hat cocked over his eye, and his hand on his 
 hanger ; or LADY BELLASTON S chair and bearers 
 coming swinging down Great Guelph Street, which 
 we have just quitted to enter Sedan Buildings. 
 
 Sedan Buildings is a little flagged square, ending 
 
190 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 abruptly with the huge walls of BLUCK S Brewery. 
 The houses, by many degrees smaller than the large de 
 cayed tenements in Great Guelph Street, are still not 
 uncomfortable, although shabby. There are brass- 
 plates on the doors, two on some of them ; or simple 
 names, as " LUNT," " PADGEMORE," &c. (as if no 
 other statement about LUNT and PADGEMORE were 
 necessary at all) under the bells. There are pictures 
 of mangles before two of the houses, and a gilt arm 
 with a hammer sticking out from one. I never saw 
 a Goldbeater. What sort of a being is he that he 
 always sticks out his ensign in dark, mouldy, lonely, 
 dreary, but somewhat respectable places? What 
 powerful Mulciberian fellows they must be, those Gold 
 beaters, whacking and thumping with huge mallets 
 at the precious metals all day. I wonder what is 
 Goldbeaters skin ? and do they get impregnated with 
 the metal? and are their great arms under their 
 clean shirts on Sundays, all gilt and shining ? 
 
 It is a quiet, kind, respectable place somehow, in 
 spite of its shabbiness. Two pewter pints and a 
 jolly little half-pint are hanging on the railings in 
 perfect confidence, basking in what little sun comes 
 into the Court. A group of small children are mak 
 ing an ornament of oyster-shells in one corner. Who 
 has that half-pint ? Is it for one of those small ones, 
 or for some delicate female recommended to take 
 beer? The windows in the Court, upon some of 
 
191 
 
 which the sun glistens, are not cracked, and pretty 
 clean ; it is only the black and dreary look behind 
 which gives them a poverty-stricken appearance. No 
 curtains or blinds. A bird-cage and a very few pots 
 of flowers here and there. This with the exception 
 of a milkman talking to a whitey-brown woman, 
 made up of bits of flannel and strips of faded chintz 
 and calico seemingly, and holding a long bundle which 
 cried this was all I saw in Sedan Buildings while we 
 were waiting until the door should open. 
 
 At last the door was opened, and by a porteress 
 so small, that I wonder how she ever could have 
 reached up to the latch. She bobbed a curtsey and 
 smiled at the Curate, whose face gleamed with 
 benevolence too, in reply to that salutation. 
 
 " Mother not at home ? " says FRANK WHITE- 
 STOCK, patting the child on the head. 
 
 " Mother s out charing. Sir," replied the girl ; 
 " but please to walk up, Sir." And she led the way 
 up one and two pair of stairs to that apartment in 
 the house which is called the second floor front ; in 
 which was the abode of the charwoman. 
 
 There were two young persons in the room, of 
 the respective ages of eight and five, I should think. 
 She of five years of age was hemming a duster, being 
 perched on a chair at the table in the middle of the 
 room. The elder, of eight, politely wiped a chair with 
 a cloth for the accommodation of the good-natured 
 
192 TEAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 Curate, and came and stood between his knessj imme 
 diately alongside of his umbrella, which also reposed 
 there, and which she by no means equalled in height. 
 
 " These children attend my school at St. Timo 
 thy s," MR. WHITESTOCK said ; " and BETSY keeps the 
 house whilst her mother is from home." 
 
 Anything cleaner or neater than this house it is 
 impossible to conceive. There was a big bed, which 
 must have been the resting-place of the whole of this 
 little family. There were three or four religious 
 prints on the walls ; besides two framed and glazed, 
 of PRINCE COBURG and the PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. 
 There were brass candlesticks, and a lamb on the 
 chimney-piece, and a cupboard in the corner, decora 
 ted with near half-a-dozen of plates, yellow bowls, 
 and crockery. And on the table there were two or 
 three bits of dry bread, and a jug with water, with 
 which these three young people (it being then nearly 
 three o clock) were about to take their meal called 
 tea. 
 
 That little BETSY who looks so small is nearly 
 ten years old : and has been a mother ever since 
 the age of about five. I mean to say, that her own 
 mother having to go out upon her charing operations, 
 BETSY assumes command of the room during her pa 
 rent s absence : has nursed her sisters from babyhood 
 up to the present time : keeps order over them, and 
 the house clean as you see it : and goes out occasion- 
 
THE CURATE S WALK. 193 
 
 ally and transacts the family purchases of bread, 
 moist sugar, and mother s tea. They dine upon 
 bread, tea and breakfast upon bread when they have 
 it, or go to bed without a morsel. Their holiday is 
 Sunday, which they spend at Church and Sunday- 
 school. The younger children scarcely ever go out 
 save on that day, but sit sometimes in the sun, which 
 comes in pretty pleasantly : sometimes blue in the 
 cold, for they very seldom see a fire except to heat 
 irons by, when mother has a job of linen to get up. 
 Father was a journeyman book-binder, who died four 
 years ago, and is buried among thousands and thou 
 sands of the nameless dead who lie crowding the 
 black churchyard of St. Timothy s parish. 
 
 The Curate evidently took especial pride in VIC 
 TORIA, the youngest of these three children of the 
 charwoman, and caused BETSY to fetch a book which 
 lay at the window, and bade her read. It was a 
 Missionary Register which the Curate opened hap 
 hazard, and this baby began to read out in an exceed 
 ingly clear and resolute voice about 
 
 " The island of Raritongo is the least frequented 
 of all the Caribbean Archipelago. Wankyfungo is 
 at four leagues S. E. by E., and the peak of the cra 
 ter of Shuagnahua is distinctly visible. The Iras 
 cible entered Raritongo Bay on the evening of Thurs 
 day 29th, and the next day the REV. MR. FLETHERS, 
 MRS. FLETHERS. and their nine children, and SHANG- 
 
194 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 POOKY, the native converted at Cacabawgo, landed 
 and took up their residence at the house of RATATA- 
 TUA, the Principal Chief, who entertained us with 
 yams and a pig," &c., &c., &c. 
 
 " R-aritongo , Wankyfungo, Archipelago." I pro 
 test this little woman read off each of these long 
 words with an ease which perfectly astonished me. 
 Many a lieutenant in HER MAJESTY S Heavies would 
 be puzzled with words of half the length. WHITE- 
 STOCK, by way of reward for her scholarship, gave 
 her another pat on the head ; having received which 
 present with a curtsey, she went and put the book 
 back into the window, and clambering back into the 
 chair, resumed the hemming of the blue duster. 
 
 I suppose it was the smallness of these .people, as 
 well as their singular, neat, and tidy behaviour, which 
 interested me so. Here were three creatures not so 
 high as the table, with all the labours, duties, and 
 cares of life upon their little shoulders, working and 
 doing their duty like the biggest of my readers ; 
 regular, laborious, cheerful, content with small pit 
 tances, practising a hundred virtues of thrift and 
 order. 
 
 ELIZABETH, at ten years of age, might walk out 
 of this house and take the command of a small es 
 tablishment. She can wash, get up linen, cook, make 
 purchases, and buy bargains. If I were ten years old 
 and three feet in height, I would marry her, and we 
 
THE CURATE S WALK. 195 
 
 would go and live in a cupboard, and share the little 
 half-pint pot for dinner. MELIA, eight years of age, 
 though inferior in accomplishments to her sister, is 
 her equal in size, and can wash, scrub, hem, go errands, 
 put her hand to the -dinner, and make herself gene 
 rally useful. In a word, she is fit to be a little house 
 maid, and to make everything but the beds, which 
 she cannot as yet reach up to. As for VICTORIA S 
 qualifications, they have been mentioned before. I 
 wonder whether the PRINCESS ALICE can read off 
 " Raritongo," &c., as glibly as this surprising little 
 animal. 
 
 I asked the Curate s permission to make these 
 young ladies a present, and accordingly produced the 
 sum of sixpence to be divided amongst the three. 
 " What will you do with it ?" I said, laying down the 
 coin. 
 
 They answered, all three at once, and in a little 
 chorus, " We ll give it to mother." This verdict 
 caused the disbursement of another sixpence, and it 
 was explained to them that the sum was for their 
 own private pleasures, and each was called upon to 
 declare what she would purchase. 
 
 ELIZABETH says, " I would like twopenn orth of 
 meat, if you please, Sir." 
 
 MELIA : " Ha porth of treacle, three-farthings - 
 worth of milk, and the same of fresh bread." 
 
 VICTORIA, speaking very quick, and gasping in an 
 
196 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 agitated manner. " Ha pny aha orange, and ha - 
 pny aha apple, and ha pny aha treacle, and 
 and " here her imagination failed her. She did 
 not know what to do with the rest of the money. 
 
 At this MELIA actually interposed, " Suppose she 
 and VICTORIA subscribed a farthing apiece out of their 
 money, so that BETSY might have a quarter of a 
 pound of meat ?" She added that her sister wanted 
 it, and that it would do her good. Upon my word, 
 she made the proposals, and the calculations, in an 
 instant, and all of her own accord. And before we 
 left them, BETSY had put on the queerest little black 
 shawl and bonnet, and had a mug and a basket ready 
 to receive the purchases in question. 
 
 Sedan Court has a particularly friendly look to 
 me since that day. Peace be with you, thrifty, 
 kindly, simple, loving little maidens ! May their 
 voyage in life prosper ! Think of the great journey 
 before them, and the little cock-boat manned by ba 
 bies, venturing over the great stormy ocean. SPEC. 
 
 II. 
 
 FOLLOWING the steps of little BETSY with her mug 
 and basket, as she goes pattering down the street, we 
 watch her into a grocer s shop, where a startling pla 
 card with " DOWN AGAIN ! " written on it, announces, 
 that the Sugar Market is still in a depressed condi- 
 
THE CURATE S WALK. 197 
 
 tion and where she no doubt negotiates the purchase 
 of a certain quantity of molasses. A little further 
 on, in Lawfeldt Street, is MR. FILCH S fine silver 
 smith s shop, where a man may stand .for a half hour, 
 and gaze with ravishment at the beautiful gilt cups 
 and tankards, the stunning waistcoat-chains, the little 
 white cushions laid out with delightfnl diamond pins, 
 gold horse-shoes and splinter-bars, pearl owls, tur 
 quoise lizards and dragons, enamelled monkeys, and 
 all sorts of agreeable monsters for your neckcloth. If 
 I live to be a hundred, or if the girl of my heart 
 were waiting for me at the corner of the street, I ne 
 ver could pass MR. FILCH S shop without having a 
 couple of minutes good stare at the window. I like 
 to fancy myself dressed up in some of the jewellery. 
 " SPEC, you rogue," I say, " suppose you were to get 
 leave to wear three or four of those rings on your fin 
 gers ; to stick that opal, round which twists a bril 
 liant serpent, with a ruby head into your blue satin 
 neckcloth ; and to sport that gold jack-chain on your 
 waistcoat. You might walk in the Park with that 
 black whalebone prize-riding-whip, which has a head 
 of the size of a snuff-box, surmounted with a silver 
 jockey on a silver race-horse ; and what a sensation 
 you would create, if you took that large ram s horn 
 with the Cairngorm top out of your pocket, and offer 
 ed a pinch of rappee to the company round ! " A lit 
 tle attorney s clerk is staring in at the window, in 
 
198 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 whose mind very similar ideas are passing. What 
 would he not give to wear that gold pin next Sunday 
 in his blue hunting neckcloth ? The ball of it is al 
 most as big as those which are painted over the side 
 door of MR. FILCH S shop, which is down that pas 
 sage which leads into Trotter s Court. 
 
 I have dined at a house where the silver dishes 
 and covers came from FILCH S, let out to their owner 
 by MR. FILCH for the day, and in charge of the grave 
 looking man whom I mistook for the butler. Butlers 
 and ladies maids innumerable have audiences of MR. 
 FILCH in his back parlour. There are suits of jewels 
 which he and his shop have known for a half century 
 past, so often have they been pawned to him. When 
 we read in the Court Journal of LADY FITZBALL S 
 head-dress of lappets and superb diamonds, it is be 
 cause the jewels get a day rule from FILCH S, and 
 come back to his iron box as soon as the drawing- 
 room is over. These jewels become historical among 
 pawnbrokers. It was here that LADY PRIGSBY 
 brought her diamonds one evening of last year, and 
 desired hurriedly to raise two thousand pounds upon 
 them, when FILCH respectfully pointed out to her 
 Ladyship, that she had pawned the stones already to 
 his comrade, MR. TUBAL, of Charing Cross. ..And, 
 taking his hat, and putting the case under his arm, 
 he went with her Ladyship to the hack-cab in which 
 she had driven to Lawfeldt Street, entered the vehi- 
 
199 
 
 cle with her, and they drove in silence to the back en 
 trance of her mansion in Monmouth Square, where 
 MR. TUBAL S young man was still seated in the hall, 
 waiting until her Ladyship should be undressed. 
 
 We walked round the splendid shining shop and 
 down the passage, which would be dark but that the 
 gas-lit door is always swinging to and fro, as the peo 
 ple who come to pawn go in and out. You may be 
 sure there is a gin -shop handy to all pawnbrokers. 
 
 A lean man in a dingy dress is walking lazily up 
 and down the flags of Trotter s Court. His ragged 
 trowsers trail in the slimy mud there. The doors of 
 the pawnbroker s, and of the gin-shop on the other 
 side, are banging to and fro : a little girl comes out 
 of the former, with a tattered old handkerchief, and 
 goes up and gives something to the dingy man. It is 
 ninepence, just raised on his waistcoat. The man bids 
 the child to " cut away home," and when she is clear 
 out of the court, he looks at us with a lurking scowl 
 and walks into the gin-shop doors, which swing always 
 opposite the pawnbroker s shop. 
 
 Why should he have sent the waistcoat wrapped 
 in that ragged old cloth ? Why should he have sent 
 the child into the pawnbroker s box, and not have 
 gone himself? He did not choose to let her see him 
 go into the gin-shop why drive her in at the oppo 
 site door ? The child knows well enough whither he 
 is gone. She might as well have carried an old 
 
200 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 waistcoat in her hand through the street as a ragged 
 napkin. A sort of vanity, you see, drapes itself in 
 that dirty rag ; or is it a kind of debauched shame, 
 which does not like to go naked ? The fancy can fol 
 low the poor girl up the black alley, up the black 
 stairs, into the bare room, where mother and chil 
 dren are starving, while the lazy ragamuffin, the fam 
 ily bully, is gone into the gin-shop to " try our cele 
 brated Cream of the Valley," as the bill in red letters 
 bids him. 
 
 " I waited in this court the other day," WHITE- 
 STOCK said, "just like that man, while a friend of 
 mine went in to take her husband s tools out of pawn 
 an honest man a journeyman shoemaker, who 
 lives hard by." And we went to call on the journey 
 man shoemaker Handle s Buildings two-pair back 
 over a blacking manufactory. The blacking was 
 made by one manufactor, who stood before a tub stir 
 ring up his produce, a good deal of which and no 
 thing else was on the floor. We passed through this 
 emporium, which abutted on a dank, steaming little 
 court, and up the narrow stair to the two-pair back. 
 
 The shoemaker was at work with his recovered 
 tools, and his wife was making woman s shoes (an in 
 ferior branch of the business) by him. A shrivelled 
 child was lying on the bed in the corner of the room. 
 There was no bedstead, and indeed scarcely any fur 
 niture, save the little table on which lay his tools and 
 
THE CURATE S WALK. 201 
 
 shoes a fair-haired, lank, handsome young man with 
 a wife who may have been pretty once, in better 
 times, and before starvation pulled her down. She 
 had but one thin gown ; it clung to a frightfully ema 
 ciated little body. 
 
 Their story was the old one. The man had been 
 in good work, and had the fever. The clothes had 
 been pawned, the furniture and bedstead had been 
 sold, and they slept on the mattress ; the mattress 
 went, and they slept on the floor ; the tools went, and 
 the end of all things seemed at hand, when the gra 
 cious apparition of the Curate, with his umbrella, 
 came and cheered those stricken-down poor folks. 
 
 The journeyman shoemaker must have been as 
 tonished at such a sight. He is not, or was not a 
 church-goer. He is a man of " advanced " opinions ; 
 believing that priests are hypocrites, and that clergy 
 men in general drive about in coaches-and-four, and 
 eat a tithe-pig a day. This proud priest got MR. 
 CRISPIN a bed to lie upon, and some soup to eat ; and 
 (being the treasurer of certain good folks of his par 
 ish, whose charities he administers) as soon as the 
 man was strong enough to work, the curate lent him 
 money wherewith to redeem his tools, and which our 
 friend is paying back by instalments at this day. And 
 any man who has seen these two honest men talking 
 together, would have said the shoemaker was the 
 haughtiest of the two. 
 
 9* 
 
202 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 We paid one more morning visit. This was with an 
 order for work to a tailor of reduced circumstances 
 and enlarged family. He had been a master, and 
 was now forced to take work by the job. He who 
 had commanded many men, was now fallen down to 
 the ranks again. His wife told us all about his mis 
 fortunes. She is evidently very proud of them. " He 
 failed for seven thousand pounds," the poor woman 
 said, three or four times during the course of our vis 
 it. It gave her husband a sort of dignity to have 
 been trusted for so much money. 
 
 The Curate must have heard that story many 
 times, to which he now listened with great patience 
 in the tailor s house a large, clean, dreary, faint- 
 looking room, smelling of poverty. Two little stunt 
 ed, yellow-headed children, with lean pale faces and 
 large protruding eyes, were at the window staring 
 with all their might at Guy Fawkes, who was passing 
 in the street, and making a great clattering and shout 
 ing outside, while the luckless tailor s wife was prat 
 ing within about her husband s bygone riches. I shall 
 not in a hurry forget the picture. The empty room 
 in a dreary back-ground ; the tailor s wife in brown, 
 stalking up and down the planks, talking endlessly ; 
 the solemn children staring out of the window as the 
 sunshine fell on their faces, and honest WHITESTOCK 
 seated, listening, with the tails of his coat through 
 the chair. 
 
THE CURATE S WALK. 203 
 
 His business over with the tailor, we start again. 
 FRANK WHITESTOCK trips through alley after alley, 
 never getting any mud on his boots, somehow, and his 
 white neckcloth making a wonderful shine in those 
 shady places. He has all sorts of acquaintance, chiefly 
 amongst the extreme youth, assembled at the doors or 
 about the gutters. There was one small person occu 
 pied in emptying one of these rivulets with an oyster 
 shell, for the purpose, apparently, of making an arti 
 ficial lake in a hole hard by, whose solitary gravity 
 and business struck me much, while the Curate was 
 very deep in conversation with a small-coalman. A 
 half-dozen of her comrades were congregated round a 
 scraper and on a grating hard by, playing with a man 
 gy little puppy, the property of the Curate s friend. 
 
 I know it is wrong to give large sums of money 
 away promiscuously, but I could not help dropping a 
 penny into the child s oyster-shell, as she came for 
 ward holding it before her like a tray. At first her 
 expression was one rather of wonder than of pleasure at 
 this influx of capital, and were certainly quite worth the 
 small charge of one penny, at which it was purchased. 
 
 For a moment she did not seem to know what 
 steps to take ; but, having communed in her own mind, 
 she presently resolved to turn them towards a neigh 
 bouring apple-stall, in the direction of which she went 
 without a single word of compliment passing between 
 us. Now, the children round the scraper were wit- 
 
204 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 nesses to the transaction. " He s give her a penny," 
 one remarked to another, with hopes miserably disap 
 pointed that they might come in for a similar present. 
 She walked on to the apple stall meanwhile, hold 
 ing her penny behind her. And what did the other 
 little ones do ? They put down the puppy as if it 
 had been so much dross. And one after another 
 they followed the penny-piece to the apple-stall. 
 
 SPEC. 
 
 A DINNER IN THE CITY. 
 I. 
 
 OUT of a mere love of variety and contrast, I 
 think we cannot do better, after leaving the wretched 
 WHITESTOCK among his starving parishioners, than 
 transport ourselves to the City, where we are invited 
 to dine with the Worshipful Company of Bellows- 
 Menders, at their splendid Hall in Marrow-pudding 
 Lane. 
 
 Next to eating good dinners, a healthy man with 
 a benevolent turn of mind must like, I think, to read 
 about them. When I was a boy, I had by heart the 
 Barmecides feast in the Arabian Nights ; and the 
 culinary passages in SCOTT S novels (in which works 
 there is a deal of good eating) always were my 
 favourites. The Homeric poems are full, as every 
 body knows, of roast and boiled : and every year I 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 205 
 
 look forward with pleasure to the newspapers of the 
 10th of November, for the menu of the Lord Mayor s 
 feast, which is sure to appear in those journals. 
 What student of history is there who does not re 
 member the City dinner given to the Allied Sove 
 reigns in 1814 ? It is good even now, and to read it 
 ought to make a man hungry, had he had five meals 
 that day. In a word, I had long, long yearned in my 
 secret heart to be present at a City festival. The 
 last year s papers had a bill of fare commencing with 
 " four hundred tureens of turtle, each containing five 
 pints;" and concluding with the pineapples and ices 
 of the dessert. " Fancy two thousand pints of turtle, 
 my love," I have often said to MRS. SPEC, " in a 
 vast silver tank, smoking fragrantly, with lovely green 
 islands of calipash and calipee floating about why, 
 my dear, if it had been invented in the time of 
 VITELLIUS he would have bathed in it ! " 
 
 " He would have been a nasty wretch," MRS. 
 SPEC said, who thinks that cold mutton is the most 
 wholesome food of man. However, when she heard 
 what great company was to be present at the dinner, 
 the Ministers of State, the Foreign Ambassadors, 
 some of the bench of Bishops, no doubt the Judges, 
 and a great portion of the Nobility, she was pleased 
 at the card which was sent to her husband, and made 
 a neat tie to my white neckcloth before I set off on 
 the festive journey. She warned me to be very 
 
206 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 cautious, and obstinately refused to allow me the 
 CHUBB door-key. 
 
 The very card of invitation is a curiosity. It is 
 almost as big as a tea-tray. It gives one ideas of a 
 vast, enormous hospitality. GOG and MAGOG in 
 livery might leave it at your door. If a man is to 
 eat up to that card, Heaven help us, I thought ; the 
 Doctor must be called in. Indeed, it was a Doctor 
 who procured me the placard of invitation. Like all 
 medical men who have published a book upon diet, 
 PILLKINGTON is a great gourmand, and he made a great 
 favour of procuring the ticket for me from his brother 
 of the Stock Exchange, who is a Citizen and a Bel 
 lows-Mender in his corporate capacity. 
 
 We drove in PILLKINGTON S Brougham to the place 
 of mangezvous, through the streets of the town, in 
 the broad daylight, dressed out in our white waist 
 coats and ties ; making a sensation upon all beholders 
 by the premature splendour of our appearance. 
 There is something grand in that hospitality of the 
 citizens, who not only give you more to eat than 
 other people, but who begin earlier than anybody 
 else. MAJOR BANGLES, CAPTAIN CANTERBURY, and a 
 host of the fashionables of my acquaintance, were 
 taking their morning s ride in the Park as we drove 
 through. You should have seen how they stared at 
 us ! It gave me a pleasure to be able to remark 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 207 
 
 mentally, "Look on, gents, we too are sometimes 
 invited to the tables of the great." 
 
 We fell in with numbers of carriages as we were 
 approaching citywards, in which reclined gentle 
 men with white neckcloths grand equipages of 
 foreign ambassadors, whose uniforms, and stars, and 
 gold-lace glistened within the carriages, while their 
 servants with coloured cockades looked splendid with 
 out, careered by the Doctor s Brougham-horse, which 
 was a little fatigued with his professional journeys in 
 the morning. GENERAL SIR ROGER BLUFF, K.C.B., 
 and COLONEL TUCKER, were stepping into a cab at 
 the United Service Club as we passed it. The vete 
 rans blazed in scarlet and gold-lace. It seemed 
 strange that men so famous, if they did not mount 
 their chargers to go to dinner, should ride in any 
 vehicle under a coach-and-six ; and instead of having 
 a triumphal car to conduct them to the city, should 
 go thither in a rickety cab, driven by a ragged cha 
 rioteer smoking a doodheen. In Cornhill we fell 
 into a line, and formed a complete regiment of the 
 aristocracy. Crowds were gathered round the steps 
 of the old Hall in Marrow-pudding Lane, and wel 
 comed us nobility and gentry as we stepped out of 
 our equipages at the door. The policemen could 
 hardly restrain the ardour of these low fellows, and 
 their sarcastic cheers were sometimes very unpleasant. 
 There was one rascal who made an observation about 
 
208 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 the size of my white waistcoat, for which I should 
 have liked to sacrifice him on the spot ; but PILL- 
 KINGTON hurried me, as the policemen did our little 
 Brougham, to give place to a prodigious fine equipage 
 which followed, with immense grey horses, immense 
 footmen in powder, and driven by a grave coachman 
 in an episcopal wig. 
 
 A veteran officer in scarlet, with silver epaulets, 
 and a profuse quantity of bullion and silver lace, 
 descended from this carriage between the two foot 
 men, and nearly upset by his curling sabre, which had 
 twisted itself between his legs, which were cased in 
 duck trowsers very tight, except about the knees 
 (where they bagged quite freely), and with rich long 
 white straps. I thought he must be a great man by 
 the oddness of his uniform. 
 
 " Who is the general ? " says I, as the old war 
 rior, disentangling himself from his scimetar, entered 
 the outer hall. Is it the MARQUESS OF ANGLESEA, or 
 the RAJAH OF SARAWAK? " 
 
 I spoke in utter ignorance, as it appeared. " That ! 
 Pooh," says PILLKTNGTON ; " that is MR. CHAMPIG 
 NON, M.P.,of "Whitehall Gardens and Fungus Abbey, 
 Citizen and Bellows-Mender. His uniform is that 
 of a Colonel of the Diddlesex Militia." There was 
 no end to similar mistakes on that day. A venerable 
 man with a blue and gold uniform, and a large crim 
 son sword-belt and brass-scabbarded sabre, passed 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 209 
 
 presently, whom I mistook for a foreign ambassador 
 at the least ; whereas I found out that he was only a 
 Billingsgate Commissioner and a little fellow in a 
 blue livery, which fitted him so badly that I thought 
 he must be one of the hired waiters of the Company, 
 who had been put into a coat that didn t belong to 
 him, turned out to be a real right honourable gent, 
 who had been a minister once. 
 
 I was conducted up-stairs by my friend to the 
 gorgeous drawing-room, where the company assem 
 bled, and where there was a picture of GEORGE IV. 
 I cannot make out what public companies can want 
 with a picture of GEORGE IV. A fellow, with a gold 
 chain, and in a black suit, such as the lamented MR. 
 COOPER wears preparatory to execution in the last act 
 of George Barnwell, bawled out our names as we 
 entered the apartment. " If my ELIZA could hear 
 that gentleman," thought I, " roaring out the name 
 of MR. SPEC ! in the presence of at least two hun 
 dred Earls, Prelates, Judges, and distinguished cha 
 racters ! " It made little impression upon them, how 
 ever ; and I slunk into the embrasure of a window, 
 and watched the company. 
 
 Every man who came into the room was, of course, 
 ushered in with a roar. " His Excellency the Minis 
 ter of Topinambo ! " the usher yelled ; and the Min 
 ister appeared, bowing, and in tights. " MR. HOG 
 GIN ! The RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF BARE- 
 
210 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 ACRES ! MR. SNOG ! MR. BRADDLE ! MR. ALDERMAN 
 MOODLE ! MR. JUSTICE BUNKER ! LIEUT.-G-EN. SIR 
 KOGER BLUFF ! COLONEL TUCKER ! MR. TIMS ! " with 
 the same emphasis and mark of admiration for us all, 
 as it were. The Warden of the Bellows-Menders 
 came forward and made a profusion of bows to the 
 "Various distinguished guests as they arrived. He. 
 too. was in a court-dress, with a sword and bag. His 
 lady must like so to behold him turning out in arms 
 and ruffles, shaking hands with Ministers, and bowing 
 over his wine-glass to their Excellencies the Foreign 
 Ambassadors. 
 
 To be in a room with these great people gave me 
 a thousand sensations of joy. Once, I am positive, 
 the Secretary of the Tape and Sealing-Wax Office 
 looked at me, and turning round to a noble Lord in 
 a red ribbon, evidently asked, " Who is that ? " Oh, 
 ELIZA, ELIZA ! How I wished you had been there ! 
 or if not there, in the ladies gallery in the dining- 
 hall, when the music began, and MR. SHADRACH, MR. 
 MESHACH, and little JACK OLDBOY (whom I recollect 
 in the part of Count Almaviva any time these forty 
 years), sang -Non nobis Domine. 
 
 But I am advancing matters prematurely. We 
 are not in the grand dining-hall as yet. The crowd 
 grows thicker and thicker, so that you can t see peo 
 ple bow as they enter any more. The usher in the 
 gold chain roars out name ofter name : more ambas- 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 211 
 
 sadors, more generals, more citizens, capitalists, bank 
 ers among them MR. ROWDY, my banker, from whom 
 I shrank guiltily from private financial reasons and, 
 last and greatest of all, " THE EIGHT HONOURABLE 
 THE LORD MAYOR ! " 
 
 That was a shock, such as I felt on landing at 
 Calais for the first time ; on first seeing an Eastern 
 bazaar ; on first catching a sight of MRS. SPEC ; a 
 new sensation, in a word. Till death, I shall remem 
 ber that surprise. I saw over the heads of the 
 crowd, first a great sword borne up in the air : then 
 a man in a fur cap of the shape of a flower-pot ; then 
 I heard the voice shouting the august name the 
 crowd separated. A handsome man with a chain 
 and gown stood before me. It was he. He ? what 
 do I say ? It was his Lordship. I cared for nothing 
 till dinner-time after that. SPEC. 
 
 II. 
 
 THE glorious company of banqueteers were now 
 pretty well all assembled ; and I, for my part, at 
 tracted by an irresistible fascination, pushed nearer 
 and nearer my LORD MAYOR, and surveyed him, as 
 the Generals, Lords, Ambassadors, Judges, and other 
 bigwigs rallied round him as their centre, and, being 
 introduced to his Lordship and each other, made 
 themselves the most solemn and graceful bows ; as 
 
212 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 if it had been the object of that General s life to 
 meet that Judge ; and as if that Secretary of the 
 Tape and Sealing-wax Office, having achieved at 
 length a presentation to the LORD MAYOR, had 
 gained the end of his existence, and might go home, 
 singing a Nunc Dimittis. DON GERONIMO DE MUL 
 LIGAN Y GUAYABA, Minister of the Republic of Topi- 
 nambo, (and originally descended from an illustrious 
 Irish ancestor, who hewed out with his pickaxe in the 
 Topinambo mines the steps by which his family have 
 ascended to their present eminence), holding his 
 cocked hat with the yellow cockade close over his 
 embroidered coat-tails, conversed with ALDERMAN 
 CODSHEAD, that celebrated statesman, who was also 
 in tights, with a sword and bag. 
 
 Of all the articles of the splendid court-dress of 
 our aristocracy, I think it is those little bags which I 
 admire most. The dear crisp curly little black dar 
 lings ! They give a gentleman s back an indescriba 
 ble grace and air of chivalry. They are at once 
 manly, elegant, and useful (being made of sticking- 
 plaster, which can be applied afterwards to heal 
 many a wound of domestic life). They are some 
 thing extra appended to men, to enable them to ap 
 pear in the presence of royalty. How vastly the 
 idea of a Court increases in solemnity and grandeur 
 when you think that a man cannot enter it without a 
 tail! 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 213 
 
 These thoughts passed through my mind, and 
 
 pleasingly diverted it from all sensations of hunger, 
 
 while many friends around me were pulling out their 
 
 watches, looking towards the great dining-room doors, 
 
 i, rattling at the lock (the door gasped open once or 
 
 twice, and the nose of a functionary on the other 
 
 side peeped in among us and entreated peace), and 
 
 vowing it was scandalous, monstrous, shameful. If 
 
 !< you ask an assembly of Englishmen to a feast, and 
 
 i accident or the cook delays it, they show their grati- 
 
 ; tude in this way. Before the supper-rooms were 
 
 thrown open at my friend MRS. PERKINS S ball, I 
 
 I recollect LIVERSAGE at the door, swearing and 
 
 t growling as if he had met with an injury. So 
 
 j I thought the Bellows-Menders guests seemed heav- 
 
 | ing into mutiny, when the great doors burst open in a 
 
 flood of light, and we rushed, a black streaming 
 
 crowd, into the gorgeous hall of banquet. 
 
 Every man sprang for his place with breathless 
 rapidity. We knew where those places were before 
 hand; for a cunning map had been put into the hands 
 of each of us by an officer of the Company, where 
 every plate of this grand festival was numbered, and 
 each gentleman s place was ticketed off. My wife 
 keeps my card still in her album ; and my dear eld 
 est boy (who has a fine genius and appetite) will gaze 
 on it for half an hour at a time, whereas he passes 
 
21 4 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 by the copies of verses and the flower-pieces with an 
 entire indifference. 
 
 The vast hall flames with gas, and is emblazoned 
 all over with the arms of by-gone Bellows-Menders. 
 August portraits decorate the walls. THE DUKE OF 
 KENT in scarlet, with a crooked sabre, stared me 
 firmly in the face during the whole entertainment. 
 THE DUKE OF CUMBERLAND, in a hussar uniform, was 
 at my back, and I knew was looking down into my 
 plate. The eyes of those gaunt portraits follow you 
 everywhere. The Prince Regent has been mentioned 
 before. He has his place of honour over the Great 
 Bellows-Mender s chair, and surveys the high table, 
 glittering with plate, epergnes, candles, hock-glasses, 
 moulds of blanc-mange stuck over with flowers, gold 
 statues holding up baskets of barley-sugar, and a 
 thousand objects of art. Piles of immense gold cans 
 and salvers rose up in buffets behind this high table ; 
 towards which presently, and in a grand procession 
 the band in the gallery over-head blowing out the 
 Bellows-Menders march a score of City tradesmen 
 and their famous guests walked solemnly between 
 our rows of tables. 
 
 Grace was said, not by the professional devotees 
 who sang " Non Nobis " at the end of the meal, but 
 by a chaplain somewhere in the room, and the turtle 
 began. Armies of waiters came rushing in with tu 
 reens of this broth of the City. 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 215 
 
 There was a gentleman near us a very lean ol$ 
 Bellows-Mender, indeed, who had three platefuls. 
 His old hands trembled, and his plate quivered with 
 excitement, as he asked again and again. That old 
 man is not destined to eat much more of the green 
 fat of this life. As he took it, he shook all over like 
 the jelly in the dish opposite to him. He gasped out 
 a quick laugh once or twice to his neighbour, when 
 his two or three old tusks showed, still standing up 
 in those jaws which had swallowed such a deal of cal- 
 lipash. He winked at the waiters, knowing them 
 from former banquets. 
 
 This banquet, which I am describing at Christ 
 mas, took place at the end of May. At that time 
 the vegetables called peas were exceedingly scarce, 
 and cost six-and-twenty shillings a quart. 
 
 " There are two hundred quarts of peas," said the 
 old fellow, winking with blood-shot eyes, and a laugh 
 that was perfectly frightful. They were consumed 
 with the fragrant ducks, by those who were inclined ; 
 or with the VENISON, which now came in. 
 
 That was a great sight. On a centre table in the 
 hall, on which already stood a cold Baron of Beef 
 a grotesque piece of meat a dish as big as a dish in 
 a pantomime, with a little Standard of England stuck 
 into the top of it, as if it was round this we were to 
 rally on this centre table, six men placed as many 
 huge dishes under cover ; and at a given signal the 
 
216 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 master cook and five assistants in white caps and 
 jackets marched rapidly up to the dish covers, which 
 being withdrawn, discovered to our sight six haunches, 
 on which the six carvers, taking out six sharp knives 
 from their girdles, began operating. 
 
 It was, I say, like something out of a Gothic ro 
 mance, or a grotesque fairy pantomime. Feudal bar 
 ons must have dined so five hundred years ago. One 
 of those knives may have been the identical blade 
 which WALWORTH plunged in JACK CADE S ribs, and 
 which was afterwards caught up into the City Arms, 
 where it blazes. (Not that any man can seriously 
 believe that JACK CADE was hurt by the dig of the 
 jolly old Mayor in the red gown and chain, any more 
 than that Pantaloon is singed by the great poker, 
 which is always forthcoming at the present season.) 
 Here we were practising the noble custom of the 
 good old times, imitating our glorious forefathers, 
 rallying round our old institutions, like true Britons. 
 These very flagons and platters were in the room be 
 fore us, ten times as big as any we use or want now- 
 a-days. They served us a grace-cup as large as a 
 plate-basket, and at the end they passed us a rose- 
 water dish, into which PEPYS might have dipped his 
 napkin. PEPYS? what do I say? RICHARD III., 
 Coeur-de-Lion, GUY OF WARWICK, GOG and MAGOG. 
 I don t know how antique the articles are. 
 
 Conversation, rapid and befitting the place and 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 217 
 
 occasion, went on all round. " Waiter, where s the 
 turtle-fins ? " Gobble, gobble. " Hice Punch or My 
 deary, Sir ? " " Smelts or salmon, JOWLER, My 
 boy?" "Always take cold beef after turtle." 
 Hobble, gobble. " These year peas have no taste." 
 Hobble, gobbleobble. " JONES, a glass of Ock with 
 you? SMITH, jine us? Waiter, three Ocks. S. ! 
 mind your manners. There s MRS. S. a-looking at 
 you from the gallery." Hobble-obbl-gobble-gob-gob- 
 gob. A steam of meats, a flare of candles, a rushing 
 to and fro of waiters, a ceaseless clinking of glass and 
 steel, a dizzy mist of gluttony, out of which I see my 
 old friend of the turtle soup making terrific play 
 among the peas, his knife darting down his throat. 
 **#*###* 
 
 It is all over. We can eat no more. We are 
 full of BACCHUS and fat venison. We lay down our 
 weapons and rest. " Why, in the name of goodness," 
 says I, turning round to PILLKINGTON, who had be 
 haved at dinner like a doctor ; " Why 
 
 But a great rap, tap, tap proclaimed grace, after 
 which the professional gentlemen sang out " Non 
 Nobisf and then the dessert and the speeches began; 
 about which we shall speak in the third course of our 
 entertainment. 
 
 10 
 
218 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 III. 
 
 ON the hammer having ceased its tapping, MR. 
 CHISEL, the immortal toast-maker, who presided over 
 the President, roared out to my three professional 
 friends, "Non nobis ;" and what is called " the 
 business of the evening," commenced. 
 
 First, the Warden of the Worshipful Society of 
 the Bellows-Menders proposed " HER MAJESTY" in a 
 reverential voice. We all stood up respectfully, 
 CHISEL yelling out to us to " Charge our glasses." 
 The royal health having been imbibed, the profes 
 sional gentleman ejaculated a part of the National 
 Anthem ; and I do not mean any disrespect to them 
 personally, in mentioning that this eminently religious 
 hymn was performed by MESSRS. SHADRACH and ME- 
 SHECH, two well-known melodists of the Hebrew per 
 suasion. We clinked our glasses at the conclusion of 
 the poem, making more dents upon the time-worn old 
 board, where many a man present had clinked for 
 GEORGE III., clapped for GEORGE IV., rapped for 
 WILLIAM IV., and was rejoiced to bump the bottom 
 of his glass as a token of reverence for our present 
 sovereign. 
 
 Here, as in the case of the Hebrew melophonists, 
 I would insinuate no wrong thought. Gentlemen, no 
 doubt, have the loyal emotions which exhibit them- 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 219 
 
 selves by clapping glasses on the tables. We do it 
 at home. Let us make no doubt that the bellows- 
 menders, tailors, authors, public characters, judges, 
 aldermen, sheriffs, and what not, shout out a health 
 for the Sovereign every night at their banquets, and 
 that their families fill round and drink the same toast 
 from the bottles of half-guinea Burgundy. 
 
 " His ROYAL HIGHNESS PRINCE ALBERT, and AL 
 BERT PRINCE OF WALES, and the rest of the Royal 
 Family" followed, CHISEL yelling out the august 
 titles, and all of us banging away with our glasses, as 
 if we were seriously interested in drinking healths to 
 this royal race : as if drinking healths could do any 
 body any good ; as if the imprecations of a company 
 of bellows-menders, aldermen, magistrates, tailors, 
 authors, tradesmen, ambassadors, who did not care a 
 twopenny-piece for all the royal families in Europe, 
 could somehow affect Heaven kindly towards their 
 Royal Highnesses by their tipsy vows, under the pres- 
 idence of MR. CHISEL. 
 
 The QUEEN DOWAGER S health was next prayed 
 for by us Bacchanalians, I need not say with what 
 fervency and efficacy. This prayer was no sooner put 
 up by the Chairman, with CHISEL as his BOANERGES 
 of a Clerk, than the elderly Hebrew gentlemen be 
 fore mentioned, began striking up a wild patriotic 
 ditty about the " Queen of the Isles, on whose sea 
 girt shores the bright sun smiles, and the ocean roars ; 
 
220 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 whose cliffs never knew, since the bright sun rose, but 
 a people true, who scorned all foes. 0, a people true, 
 who scorn all wiles, inhabit you, bright Queen of the 
 Isles. Bright Quee Bright Quee ee ee ee ee 
 en awf the Isles ! " or words to that effect, which 
 SHADRACH took up and warbled across his glass to 
 MESHECH, which MESHECH trolled away to his brother 
 singer, until the ditty was ended, nobody understand 
 ing a word of what it meant ; not OLDBOY not the 
 old or young Israelite minstrel his companion not 
 we, who were clinking our glasses not CHISEL, who 
 was urging us and the Chairman on not the Chair 
 man and the guests in embroidery not the kind, 
 exalted, and amiable lady whose health we were 
 making believe to drink, certainly, and in order to 
 render whose name welcome to the Powers to whom 
 we recommended her safety, we offered up, through 
 the mouths of three singers, hired for the purpose, a 
 perfectly insane and irrelevant song. 
 
 " Why," says I to PILLKINGTON, " the Chairman 
 and the grand guests might just as well get up and 
 dance round the table, or cut off CHISEL S head and 
 pop it into a turtle-soup tureen, or go through any 
 other mad ceremony as the last. Which of us here 
 cares for HER MAJESTY the -QUEEN DOWAGER, any 
 more than for a virtuous and eminent lady, whose 
 goodness and private worth appear in all her acts ? 
 What the deuce has that absurd song about the Queen 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 221 
 
 of the Isles to do with HER MAJESTY, and how does it 
 set us all stamping with our glasses on the mahogany ? " 
 CHISEL bellowed out another toast " The Army ; " 
 and we were silent in admiration, while SIR GEORGE 
 BLUFF, the greatest General present, rose to return 
 thanks. 
 
 Our end of the table was far removed from the 
 thick of the affair, and we only heard, as it were, the 
 indistinct cannonading of the General, whose force had 
 just advanced into action. We saw an old gentleman 
 with white whiskers, and a flaring scarlet coat covered 
 with stars and gilding, rise up with a frightened and 
 desperate look, and declare that " this was the proud 
 est a-hem moment of his a-hem unworthy as he 
 was a-hem as a member of the British a-hem 
 who had fought under the illustrious DUKE of a-hem 
 his joy was to come among the Bellows- Menders 
 a-hem and inform the great merchants of the greatest 
 City of the hum that a British a-hem was al 
 ways ready to do his hum. NAPOLEON Salamanca 
 a-hem had witnessed their hum, haw and should 
 any other hum ho casion which he deeply depre 
 cated haw there were men now around him a-haw 
 who, inspired by the Bellows-Menders Company and 
 the City of London a-hum would do their duty as 
 a-hum a-haw a-hah." Immense cheers, yells, 
 hurrays, roars, glass-smackings, and applause followed 
 this harangue, at the end of which the three Israelites, 
 
222 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 encouraged by CHISEL, began a military cantata 
 " the sword and shield On the battle-field Are 
 the joys that best we love boys Where the Grena 
 diers, with their pikes and spears through the ranks 
 of the foemen shove boys Where the bold hurray 
 strikes dread dismay in the ranks of the dead and 
 dyin and the baynet clanks in the Frenchmen s 
 ranks, as they fly from the British Lion." (I repeat, 
 as before, that I quote from memory.) 
 
 Then the Secretary of the Tape and Sealing Wax 
 Office rose to return thanks for the blessings which 
 we begged upon the Ministry. He was, he said, but 
 a humble the humblest member of that body. The 
 suffrages which that body had received from the na 
 tion were gratifying, but the most gratifying testi 
 monial of all, was the approval of the Bellows-Mend 
 ers Company. (Immense applause.} Yes, among 
 the most enlightened of the mighty corporations of 
 the City, the most enlightened was the Bellows- 
 Menders. Yes, he might say, in consonance with 
 their motto, and in defiance of illiberality, Afflavet 
 veritas et dissipati sunt. (Enormous applause.) 
 Yes, the thanks and pride that were boiling with emo 
 tion in his bosom, trembled to find utterance at his 
 lip. Yes, the proudest moment of his life, the crown 
 of his ambition, the meed of his early hopes and strug 
 gles and aspirations, was at that moment won in the 
 approbation of the Bellows-Menders. Yes, his 
 
A DINNER IN THE CITY. 223 
 
 children should know that he too had attended at 
 those great, those noble, those joyous, those ancient 
 festivals, and that he too, the humble individual who 
 from his heart pledged the assembled company in a 
 bumper that he too was a Bellows-Mender. 
 
 SHADRACH, MESHECH and OLDBOY, at this began 
 singing, I don t know for what reason, a rustic madri 
 gal, describing " the joys of bonny May bonny 
 May a-a-ay. when the birds sing on the spray," 
 &c., which never, as I could see, had the least rela 
 tion to that or any other ministry, but which were, 
 nevertheless, applauded by all present. And then 
 the Judges returned thanks; and the Clergy re 
 turned thanks ; and the Foreign Ministers had an 
 innings (all interspersed by my friends indefatiga 
 ble melodies) ; and the distinguished foreigners 
 present, especially MR. WASHINGTON JACKSON, were 
 greeted, and that distinguished American rose amidst 
 thunders of applause. 
 
 He explained how Broadway and Cornhill were 
 in fact the same. He showed how WASHINGTON was 
 in fact an Englishman, and how FRANKLIN would 
 never have been an American but for his education 
 as a printer in Lincoln s-Inn-Fields. He declared 
 that MILTON was his cousin, LOCKE his ancestor, 
 NEWTON his dearest friend, SHAKSPEARE his grand 
 father, or more or less he vowed that he had wept 
 tears of briny anguish on the pedestal of Charing 
 
224 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 Cross kissed with honest fervour the clay of Runny- 
 mede that BEN JONSON and SAMUEL that POPE 
 and DRYDEN, and DR. WATTS and SWIFT were the 
 darlings of his hearth and home, as of ours, and in a 
 speech of about five-and-thirty minutes explained to 
 us a series of complimentary sensations very hard to 
 repeat or to remember. 
 
 But I observed that, during his oration, the gen 
 tlemen who report for the daily papers, were occupied 
 with their wine instead of their note-books that the 
 three singers of Israel yawned, and showed many 
 signs of disquiet and inebriety, and that my old 
 friend, who had swallowed the three plates of turtle, 
 was sound asleep. 
 
 PILLKINGTON and I quitted the banqueting-hall, 
 and went into the tea-room, were gents were assem 
 bled still, drinking slops and eating buttered muffins, 
 until the grease trickled down their faces. Then I 
 resumed the query which I was just about to put, 
 when grace was called and the last chapter ended. 
 " And, gracious goodness !" I said, " what can be the 
 meaning of a ceremony so costly, so uncomfortable, 
 so savoury, so unwholesome as this ? Who is called 
 upon to pay two or three guineas for my dinner now, 
 in this blessed year 1 847 ? Who is it that can want 
 muffins after such a banquet ? Are there no poor ? 
 Is there no reason ? Is this monstrous belly-worship 
 to exist for ever ?" 
 
A CLUB IN AN UPROAR. 225 
 
 "SPEC," the Doctor said, "you had best come 
 away. I make no doubt that you for one have had 
 too much." And we went to his Brougham. May 
 nobody have such a headache on this happy New 
 Year as befell the present writer on the morning after 
 the Dinner in the City ! SPEC. 
 
 A CLUB IN AN UPROAR. (February 1848.) 
 
 THE appearance of a London Club at a time of 
 great excitement is well worthy the remark of a 
 traveller in this city. The Megatherium has been in 
 a monstrous state of frenzy during the past days. 
 What a queer book it would be which should chronicle 
 all the stories which have been told, or all the opin 
 ions which have been uttered there. 
 
 As a Revolution brings out into light of day, and 
 into the streets of the convulsed capital, swarms of 
 people who are invisible but in such times of agitation, 
 and retreat into their obscurity as soon as the earth 
 quake is over, so you may remark in Clubs, that the 
 stirring of any great news brings forth the most won 
 derful and hitherto unheard of members, of whose 
 faces not the habitues, not even the hall-porters, have 
 any knowledge. The excitement over, they vanish, 
 and are seen no more until the next turmoil calls 
 them forth. 
 
 10* 
 
226 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 During the past week, our beloved Megatherium 
 has been as crowded as they say HER MAJESTY S 
 Palace of Pimlico at present is, where distressed 
 foreigners, fugitives, and other COBURGS are crowded 
 two or three in a room ; and where it has been re 
 ported during the whole of the past week that LOUIS- 
 PHILIPPE himself, in disguise, was quartered in the 
 famous garden pavilion, and plates of dinner sent out 
 to him from HER MAJESTY S table. I had the story 
 from BOWYER of the Megatherium, who had seen and 
 recognised the ex-king as he was looking into the 
 palace garden from a house in Grosvenor Place oppo 
 site. We had other wonderful stories too, whereof it 
 is our present purpose to say a word or two. 
 
 The Club, in fact, has been in a state of perfect 
 uproar, to the disgust of the coffee-room habitues, of 
 the quiet library arm-chair occupiers, and of the news 
 paper-room students, who could not get their accus 
 tomed broad-sheets. Old DOCTOR POKEY (who is in 
 the habit of secreting newspapers about his person, 
 and going off to peruse them in the recondite corners 
 of the building) has been wandering about, in vain 
 endeavouring to seize hold of a few. They say that 
 a Morning Chronicle was actually pulled from under 
 his arm during the last week s excitement. The 
 rush for second editions and evening papers is terrific. 
 Members pounce on the news-boys and rob them. 
 Decorum is overcome. 
 
A CLUB IN AN UPROAR. 227 
 
 All the decencies of society are forgotten during 
 this excitement. Men speak to each other without 
 being introduced. I saw a man in ill-made trowsers 
 and with strong red whiskers and a strong northern 
 accent, go up to Colonel the HONOURABLE OTTO DILL- 
 WATER of the Guards, and make some dreadful re 
 mark about Louis FEELIP, which caused the Colonel 
 to turn pale with anger. I saw a Bishop, an Under 
 Secretary of State, and GENERAL DE BOOTS, listening 
 with the utmost gravity and eagerness to little BOB 
 NODDY, who pretended to have brought some news 
 from the City, where they say he is a Clerk in a Fire 
 Office. 
 
 I saw all sorts of portents and wonders. On the 
 great Saturday night (the 26th ult.) when the news 
 was rifest, and messenger after messenger came rush 
 ing in with wild rumours, men were seen up at mid 
 night who were always known to go to bed at ten. A 
 man dined in the Club who is married, and who has 
 never been allowed to eat there for eighteen years. 
 On Sunday, old MR. PUGH himself, who moved that 
 the house should be shut, no papers taken in, and the 
 waiters marched to church under the inspection of 
 the steward, actually came down and was seen reading 
 the Observer, so eager was the curiosity which the 
 great events excited. 
 
 In the smoking-room of the establishment, where 
 you ordinarily meet a very small and silent party, 
 
228 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 there was hardly any seeing for the smoke, any 
 sitting for the crowd, or any hearing in consequence 
 of the prodigious bawling and disputing. The men 
 uttered the most furious contradictory statements 
 there. Young BIFFIN was praying that the rascally 
 mob might be cut down to a man ; while GULLET was 
 bellowing out that the safety of France required the 
 re-establishment of the guillotine, and that four heads 
 must be had, or that the Revolution was not complete. 
 
 In the card-room, on the great night in question, 
 there was only one whist-table, and at that even they 
 were obliged to have a dummy. CAPTAIN THUMPING- 
 TON could not be brought to play that night ; and 
 PAMM himself trumped his partner s lead, and the 
 best heart ; such was the agitation which the great 
 European events excited. When DICKY CUFF came 
 in, from His EXCELLENCY LORD PILGRIMSTONE S 
 evening party, a rush was made upon him for news, 
 as if he had come from battle. Even the waiters ap 
 peared to be interested, and seemed to try to over 
 hear the conversation. 
 
 Every man had his story, and his private infor 
 mation ; and several of these tales I took down. 
 
 " Saturday, five o clock. JAWKINS has just come 
 from the City. The French ROTHSCHILD has arrived. 
 He escaped in a water-butt as far as Amiens, whence 
 he went on in a coffin. A fourgon containing two 
 hundred and twenty-two thousand two hundred sove- 
 
A CLUB IN AN UPROAR. 229 
 
 reigns, and nine-and-fourpence in silver, was upset in 
 the Rue Saint Denis. The coin was picked up, and 
 the whole sum, with the exception of the fourpenny 
 piece, was paid over to the Commissioners at the 
 Hotel de Ville. 
 
 "Some say it was a quarter-franc. It was found 
 sticking, afterwards, to the sabot of an Auvergnat, 
 and brought in safety to the Provisional Government. 
 
 " BLANKLEY comes in. He made his fortune last 
 year by the railroads, has realised, and is in a frantic 
 state of terror. The miscreants ! he says. The 
 whole population is in arms. They are pouring down 
 to the English coast ; the sans-culottes will be upon 
 us to-morrow, and we shall have them upon upon 
 my estate in Sussex, by Jove ! COBDEN was in a 
 league with the Revolutionary government, when he 
 said there would be no war laying a trap to lull us 
 into security, and so give free ingress to the infernal 
 revolutionary villains. There are not a thousand men 
 in the country to resist them, and we shall all be 
 butchered before a week is out butchered, and our 
 property confiscated. COBDEN ought to be impeached 
 and hanged. LORD JOHN RUSSELL ought to be im 
 peached and hanged. Hopes GUIZOT will be guil 
 lotined for not having used cannon, and slaughtered 
 the ruffians before the Revolution came to a head. 1 
 N. B. BLANKLEY was a liberal before he made his 
 money, and had a picture of TOM PAINE in his study. 
 
230 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 " TOWZER arrives. A messenger has just come 
 to the Foreign Office wounded in three places, and in 
 the disguise of a fishwonian. Paris is in flames in 
 twenty-four quarters the mob and pikemen raging 
 through it. LAMARTINE has been beheaded. The 
 forts have declared for the King and are bombarding 
 the town. All the English have been massacred. 
 
 " CAPTAIN SHINDY says, Nonsense ! no such thing. 
 A messenger has come to the French Embassy. The 
 King and family are at Versailles. The two Cham 
 bers have followed them thither, and MARSHAL Bu- 
 GEAUD has rallied a hundred and twenty thousand 
 men. The Parisians have three days warning : and 
 if at the end of that time they do not yield, seven hun 
 dred guns will open on the dogs, and the whole 
 canaille will be hurled to perdition. 
 
 " PIPKINSON arrives. The English in Paris are 
 congregated in the Protestant Churches ; a guard is 
 placed over them. It is with the greatest difficulty 
 that the rabble are prevented from massacreing them. 
 LADY LUNCHINGTON only escaped by writing Yeuve 
 d Connell on her door. It is perfectly certain 
 that GTUIZOT is killed. LAMARTINE and the rest of 
 the Provisional Government have but a few days to 
 live : the Communists will destroy them infallibly ; 
 and universal blood, terror, and anarchy will prevail 
 over France, over Europe, over the world. 
 
 " BouNCER-7-on the best authority. Thirty thou- 
 
A CLUB IN AN UPROAR. 231 
 
 sand French entered Brussels under LAMORICIERE. 
 No harm has been done to Leopold. The united 
 French and Belgian army march on the Rhine on 
 Monday. Rhenish Prussia is declared to form a part 
 of the Republic. A division under GENERAL BEDEAU 
 will enter Savoy, and penetrate into Lombardy. The 
 Pope abdicates his temporal authority. The Rus 
 sians will cross the Prusian frontier with four hundred 
 thousand men. 
 
 " BOWYER has just come from Miv ART S, and says 
 that rooms are taken there for the Pope, who has 
 fled from his dominions, for the COUNTESS OF LANDS- 
 FELD, for the KING OF BAVARIA, who is sure to follow 
 immediately, and for all the French Princes, and their 
 suite and families." 
 
 It was in this way that Rumour was chattering 
 last week, while the great events were pending. But 
 oh, my friends ! wild and strange as these stories 
 were, were they so wonderful as the truth ? as an 
 army of a hundred thousand men subdued by a rising 
 of bare-handed mechanics ; as a great monarch, a 
 minister notorious for wisdom, and a great monarchy 
 blown into annihilation by a blast of national breath ; 
 as a magnificent dynasty slinking out of existence in 
 a cab ; as a gallant prince, with an army at his back, 
 never so much as drawing a sword, but at a summons 
 from a citizen of the National Guard, turning tail 
 
232 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 and sneaking away ; as a poet braving the pikes 
 which had scared away a family of kings and princes, 
 and standing forward wise, brave, sensible and merci 
 ful, undismayed on the tottering pinnacle of popular 
 power ? Was there ever a day since the beginning 
 of history, where small men were so great, and great 
 ones so little ? What satirist could ever have dared 
 to invent such a story as that of the brave and 
 famous race of Orleans flying, with nobody at their 
 backs ; of wives and husbands separating, and the 
 deuce take the hindmost ; of ULYSSES shaving his 
 whiskers off, and flinging away even his wig ? It is 
 the shamefullest chapter in history a consummation 
 too base for ridicule. 
 
 One can t laugh at anything so miserably mean. 
 All the Courts in Europe ought to go into mourning, 
 or wear sackcloth. The catastrophe is too degrading. 
 It sullies the cause of all kings, as the misconduct of 
 a regiment does an army. It tarnishes all crowns. 
 And if it points no other moral, and indicates no 
 future consequences, why, Progress is a mere humbug: 
 Railroads lead to nothing, and Signs point nowhere : 
 
 and there is no To-morrow for the world. 
 
 SPEC. 
 
WAITING AT THE STATION. 233 
 
 WAITING AT THE STATION. 
 
 WE are amongst a number of people waiting for 
 the Blackwall train at the Fenchurch Street Station. 
 Some of us are going a little farther than Blackwall 
 as far as G-ravesend ; some of us are going even 
 farther than Gravesend to Port Philip, in South 
 Australia, leaving behind the patrice fines and the 
 pleasant fields of old England. It is rather a queer 
 sensation to be in the same boat and station with a 
 party that is going upon so prodigious a journey. 
 One speculates about them with more than an ordi 
 nary interest, thinking of the difference between your 
 fate and theirs, and that we shall never behold these 
 faces again. 
 
 Some eight-and-thirty women are sitting in the 
 large Hall of the station, with bundles, baskets and 
 light baggage, waiting for the steamer, and the orders 
 to embark. A few friends are taking leave of them, 
 bonnets are laid together, and whispering going on. 
 A little crying is taking place : only a very little 
 crying, and among those who remain, as it seems to 
 me, not those who are going away. They leave be 
 hind them little to weep for ; they are going from 
 bitter cold and hunger, constant want and unavailing 
 labour. Why should they be sorry to quit a mother 
 who has been so hard to them as our country has 
 
234 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 been ? How many of these women will ever see the 
 shore again, upon the brink of which they stand, and 
 from which they will depart in a few minutes more ? 
 It makes one sad and ashamed too, that they should 
 not be more sorry. But how are you to expect love 
 where you have given such scanty kindness ? If you 
 saw your children glad at the thoughts of leaving 
 you, and for ever : would you blame yourselves, or 
 them ? It is not that the children are ungrateful, 
 but the home was unhappy, and the parents indiffer 
 ent or unkind. You are in the wrong under whose 
 government they only had neglect and wretchedness ; 
 not they, who can t be called upon to love such an un 
 lovely thing as misery, or to make any other return 
 for neglect but indifference and aversion. 
 
 You and I, let us suppose again, are civilised per 
 sons. We have been decently educated : and live 
 decently every day, and wear tolerable clothes, and 
 practise cleanliness : and love the arts and graces of 
 life. As we walk down this rank of eight-and-thirty 
 female emigrants, let us fancy that we are at Mel 
 bourne, and not in London, and that we have come 
 down from our sheep-walks, or clearings, having heard 
 of the arrival of forty honest, well-recommended 
 young women, and having a natural longing to take a 
 wife home to the bush which of these would you 
 like ? If you were an Australian Sultan, to which 
 of these would you throw the handkerchief? I am 
 
WAITING AT THE STATION. 235 
 
 afraid not one of them. I fear, in our present mood 
 of mind, we should mount horse and return to the 
 country, preferring a solitude, and to be a bachelor, 
 than to put up with one of these for a companion. 
 There is no girl here to tempt you by her looks ; 
 (and, world-wiseacre as you are, it is by these you 
 are principally moved) there is no pretty, modest, 
 red-cheeked rustic, no neat, trim, little grisette, 
 such as what we call a gentleman might cast his eyes 
 upon without too much derogating, and might find 
 favour in the eyes of a man about town. No ; it is 
 a homely bevy of women with scarcely any beauty 
 amongst them their clothes are decent, but not the 
 least picturesque their faces are pale and care-worn 
 for the most part how, indeed, should it be other 
 wise, seeing that they have known xsare and want all 
 their days ? there they sit upon bare benches, with 
 dingy bundles, and great cotton umbrellas and the 
 truth is, you are not a hardy colonist, a feeder of 
 sheep, a feller of trees, a hunter of kangaroos but a 
 London man, and my lord the Sultan s cambric hand 
 kerchief is scented with Bond Street perfumery 
 you put it in your pocket, and couldn t give it to any 
 one of these women. 
 
 They are not like you, indeed. They have not 
 your tastes and feelings : your education and refine 
 ments. They would not understand a hundred things 
 which seem perfectly simple to you. They would 
 
236 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 shock you a hundred times a day by as many defi 
 ciencies of politeness, or by outrages upon the 
 Queen s English by practices entirely harmless, and 
 yet in your eyes actually worse than crimes they 
 have large hard hands and clumsy feet. The woman 
 you love must have pretty soft fingers that you may 
 hold in yours : must speak her language properly, and 
 at least when you offer her your heart, must return 
 hers with its h in the right place, as she whispers 
 that it is yours, or you will have none of it. If she 
 says, " Hedward, I ham so unappy to think I shall 
 never beold you agin," though her emotion on 
 leaving you might be perfectly tender and genuine, 
 you would be obliged to laugh. If she said, " Hed 
 ward, my art is yours for hever and hever " (and any 
 body heard her), she might as well stab you, you 
 couldn t accept the most faithful affection offered in 
 such terms you are a town-bred man. I say, and 
 your handkerchief smells of Bond-Street musk and 
 millefleur. A sun-burnt settler out of the Bush 
 won t feel any of these exquisite tortures, or under 
 stand this kind of laughter : or object to Molly be 
 cause her hands are coarse and her ancles thick : but 
 he will take her back to his farm, where she will 
 nurse his children, bake his dough, milk his cows, and 
 cook his kangaroo for him. 
 
 But between you, an educated Londoner, and that 
 woman, is not the union absurd and impossible ? 
 
WAITING AT THE STATION. 237 
 
 Would it not be unbearable for either? Solitude 
 would be incomparably pleasanter than such a com 
 panion. You might take her with a handsome for 
 tune, perhaps, were you starving ; but then it is be 
 cause you want a house and carriage, let us say, (your 
 necessaries of life,) and must have them even if you 
 purchase them with your precious person. You 
 do as much, or your sister does as much, every day. 
 That however is not the point : I am not talking 
 about the meanness to which your worship may be 
 possibly obliged to stoop, in order, as you say, " to 
 keep up your rank in society " only stating that this 
 immense social difference does exist. You don t like 
 to own it : or don t choose to talk about it, and such 
 things had much better not be spoken about at all. I 
 hear your worship say, there must be differences in rank 
 and so forth ! Well ! out with it at once, you don t 
 think MOLLY is your equal nor indeed is she in the 
 possession of many artificial acquirements. She can t 
 make Latin verses, for example, as you used to do at 
 school, she can t speak French and Italian as your 
 wife very likely can, &c. and in so far she is your 
 inferior, and your amiable lady s. 
 
 But what I note, what I marvel at, what I ac 
 knowledge, what I am ashamed of, what is contrary 
 to Christian morals, manly modesty and honesty, and 
 to the national well-being, is that there should be 
 that immense social distinction between the well- 
 
238 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 dressed classes (as, if you will permit me, we will call 
 ourselves) and our brethren and sisters in the fustian 
 jackets and pattens. If you deny it for your part, 
 I say that you are mistaken, and deceive yourself 
 woefully. I say that you have been educated to it 
 through Gothic ages, and have had it handed down 
 to you from your fathers (not that they were anybody 
 in particular, but respectable, well-dressed progeni 
 tors, let us say for a generation or two) from your 
 well-dressed fathers before you. How long ago is it, 
 that our preachers were teaching the poor " to know 
 their station ? " that it was the peculiar boast of Eng 
 lishmen, that any man, the humblest among us, could, 
 by talent, industry, and good luck, hope to take his 
 place in the aristocracy of his country, and that we 
 pointed with pride to Lord This who was the grand 
 son of a barber ; and to Earl That, whose father was 
 an apothecary ? what a multitude of most respectable 
 folks pride themselves on these things still ! The 
 gulf is not impassable, because one man in a million 
 swims over it, and we hail him for his strength and 
 success. He has landed on the happy island. He 
 is one of the aristocracy. Let us clap hands and ap 
 plaud. There s no country like ours for rational 
 freedom. 
 
 If you go up and speak to one of these women, as 
 you do (and very good-naturedly, and you can t help 
 that confounded condescension), she curtsies and 
 
WAITING AT THE STATION. 239 
 
 holds down her head meekly, and replies with mo 
 desty, as becomes her station, to your honour with 
 the clean shirt and the well-made coat. And so she 
 should ; what hundreds of thousands of us rich and 
 poor say still. Both believe this to be bounden 
 duty ; and that a poor person should naturally bob 
 her head to a rich one physically and morally. 
 
 Let us get her last curtsy from her as she stands 
 here upon the English shore. When she gets into 
 the Australian woods her back won t bend except to 
 her labour ; or, if it do, from old habit and the remi 
 niscence of the old country, do you suppose her chil 
 dren will be like that timid creature before you ? 
 They will know nothing of that Gothic society, with 
 its ranks and hierarchies, its cumbrous ceremonies, 
 its glittering antique paraphernalia, in which we 
 have been educated ; in which rich and poor still ac 
 quiesce, and which multitudes of both still admire : 
 far removed from these old world traditions, they 
 will be bred up in the midst of plenty, freedom, 
 manly brotherhood. Do you think if your worship s 
 grandson goes into the Australian woods, or meets 
 the grandchild of one of yonder women by the banks 
 of the Warrawarra, the Australian will take a hat 
 off or bob a curtsy to the new comer ? He will hold 
 out his hand, and say, " Stranger, come into my house 
 and take a shakedown and have a share of our sup 
 per. You come out of the old country, do you? 
 
240 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 There was some people were kind to my grandmother 
 there, and sent her out to Melbourne. Times are 
 changed since then come in and welcome ! " 
 
 What a confession it is that we have almost all 
 of us been obliged to make ! A clever and earnest- 
 minded writer gets a commission from the Morning 
 Chronicle newspaper, and reports upon the state of 
 our poor in London ; he goes amongst labouring 
 people and poor of all kinds and brings back what ? 
 A picture of human life so wonderful, so awful, so 
 piteous and pathetic, so exciting and terrible, that 
 readers of romances own they never read anything 
 like to it ; and that the griefs, struggles, strange ad 
 ventures here depicted, exceed anything that any of 
 us could imagine. Yes ; and these wonders and ter 
 rors have been lying by your door and mine ever 
 since we had a door of our own. We had but to 
 go a hundred yards off and see for ourselves, but we 
 never did. Don t we pay poor-rates, and are they 
 not heavy enough in the name of patience 1 Very 
 true ; and we have our own private pensioners, and 
 give away some of our superfluity, very likely. You 
 are not unkind ; not ungenerous. But of such won 
 drous and complicated misery as this you confess you 
 had no idea ? No. How should you ? you and I 
 we are of the upper classes ; we have had hitherto 
 no community with the poor. We never speak a 
 word to the servant who waits on us for twenty 
 
WAITING AT THE STATION. 241 
 
 years ; we condescend to employ a tradesman, keep 
 ing him at a proper distance, mind of course, at a 
 proper distance we laugh at his young men, if they 
 dance, jig, and amuse themselves like their betters, 
 and call them counter-jumpers, snobs, and what not ; 
 of his workmen we know nothing, how pitilessly they 
 are ground down, how they live and die, here close 
 by us at the backs of our houses ; until some poet 
 like HOOD wakes and sings that dreadful " Song of 
 the Shirt ; " some prophet like CARLYLE rises up and 
 denounces woe ; some clear-sighted, energetic man 
 like the writer of the Chronicle travels into the poor 
 man s country for us, and comes back with his tale 
 of terror and wonder. 
 
 Awful, awful poor man s country ! The bell 
 rings and these eight-and-thirty women bid adieu to 
 it, rescued from it (as a few thousands more will be) 
 by some kind people who are interested in their be 
 half. In two hours more, the steamer lies alongside 
 the ship CuZZoden, which will bear them to their 
 new home. Here are the berths aft for the unmar 
 ried women, the married couples are in the midships, 
 the bachelors in the fore-part of the ship. Above 
 and below decks it swarms and echoes with the bustle 
 of departure. The Emigration Commissioner comes 
 and calls over their names ; there are old and young, 
 large families, numbers of children already accus 
 tomed to the ship, and looking about with amused 
 11 
 
242 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 unconsciousness. One was born but just now on 
 board ; he will not know how to speak English till he 
 is fifteen thousand miles away from home. Some of 
 these kind people whose bounty and benevolence 
 organised the Female Emigration Scheme, are here 
 to give a last word and shake of the hand to their 
 protegees. They hang sadly and gratefully round 
 their patrons. One of them, a clergyman, who has 
 devoted himself to this good work, says a few words 
 to them at parting. It is a solemn minute indeed 
 for those who (with the few thousand who will follow 
 them) are leaving the country and escaping from the 
 question between rich and poor ; and what for those 
 who remain 1 But, at least, those who go will re 
 member that in their misery here they found gentle 
 hearts to love and pity them, and generous hands to 
 give them succour, and will plant in the new country 
 this grateful tradition of the old. May Heaven s 
 good mercy speed them ! 
 
 I. 
 
 HAVING made a solemn engagement during the last 
 Midsummer holidays with my young friend AUGUSTUS 
 JONES, that we should go to a Christmas Pantomime 
 together, and being accommodated by the obliging 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 243 
 
 proprietors of Covent Garden Theatre with a private 
 box for last Tuesday, I invited not only him but 
 some other young friends to be present at the enter 
 tainment. The two Miss TWIGGS, the charming 
 daughters of the REV. MR. TWIGG, our neighbour; 
 Miss MINNY TWIGG, their youngest sister, eight years 
 of age ; and their maternal aunt, MRS. CAPTAIN FLA- 
 THER, as the Chaperon of the young ladies, were the 
 four other partakers of this amusement with myself 
 and MR. JONES. 
 
 It was agreed that the ladies, who live in Mont- 
 pellier Square, Brompton, should take up myself 
 and MASTER AUGUSTUS at the Sarcophagus Club, 
 which is on the way to the theatre, and where we two 
 gentlemen dined on the day appointed. Cox s most 
 roomy fly, the mouldy green one, in which he insists 
 on putting the roaring-grey horse, was engaged for 
 the happy evening. Only an intoxicated driver (as 
 Cox s man always is) could ever, I am sure, get that 
 animal into a trot. But the utmost fury of the whip 
 will not drive him into a dangerous pace ; and be 
 sides, the ladies were protected by THOMAS, MRS. 
 FLATHER S page, a young man with a gold band to 
 his hat, and a large gilt knob on the top, who en 
 sured the safety of the cargo, and really gave the 
 vehicle the dignity of one s own carriage. 
 * The dinner hour at the Sarcophagus being ap 
 pointed for five o clock, and a table secured in the 
 
244 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 strangers room, MASTER JONES was good enough to 
 arrive (under the guardianship of the Colonel s foot 
 man) about half-an-hour before the appointed time, 
 and the interval was by him partly passed in conver 
 sation, but chiefly in looking at a large silver watch 
 which he possesses, and in hoping that we shouldn t 
 be late. 
 
 I made every attempt to pacify and amuse my 
 young guest, whose anxiety was not about the dinner 
 but about the play. I tried him with a few questions 
 about Greek and Mathematics a sort of talk, how 
 ever, which I .was obliged speedily to abandon, for I 
 found he knew a great deal more upon these subjects 
 than I did (it is disgusting how preternaturally 
 learned the boys of our day are, by the way.) I en 
 gaged him to relate anecdotes about his schoolfellows 
 and ushers, which he did, but still in a hurried, agi 
 tated, nervous manner evidently thinking about that 
 sole absorbing subject, the pantomime. 
 
 A neat little dinner, served in BATIFOL S best 
 manner (our chef at the Sarcophagus knows when he 
 has to deal with a connoisseur, and would as soon 
 serve me up his own ears as a rechauffe, dish), made 
 scarcely any impression on young JONES. After a 
 couple of spoonfuls, he pushed away the Palestine 
 soup, and took out his large silver watch he applied 
 two or three times to the chronometer during the fish 
 period and it was not until I had him employed 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 245 
 
 upon an omelette, full of apricot jam, that the young 
 gentleman was decently tranquil. 
 
 With the last mouthful of the omelette he began 
 to fidget again ; and it still wanted a quarter of an 
 hour of six. Nuts, almonds and raisins, figs (the al 
 most never-failing soother of youth), I hoped might 
 keep him quiet, and laid before him all those delica 
 cies. But he beat the devil s tattoo with the nut 
 crackers, had out the watch time after time, declared 
 that it stopped, and made such a ceaseless kicking on 
 the legs of his chair, that there were moments when 
 I wished he was back in the parlour of MRS. JONES, 
 his Mamma. 
 
 I know oldsters who have a savage pleasure in 
 making boys drunk a horrid thought of this kind 
 may perhaps have crossed my mind. " If I could 
 get him to drink half-a-dozen glasses of that heavy 
 Port, it might soothe him and make him sleep," I 
 may have thought. But he would only take a couple 
 of glasses of wine. He said he didn t like more ; 
 that his father did not wish him to take more : and 
 abashed by his frank and honest demeanour, I would 
 not press him, of course, a single moment further, and 
 so was forced to take the bottle to myself, to soothe 
 me instead of my young guest. 
 
 He was almost frantic at a quarter to seven, by 
 which time the ladies had agreed to call for us, and 
 for about five minutes was perfectly dangerous. " "We 
 
246 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 shall be late, I know we shall ; I said we should ! I 
 am sure it s seven, past, and that the box will be 
 taken ! " and countless other exclamations of fear and 
 impatience passed through his mind. At length we 
 heard a carriage stop, and a club-servant entering and 
 directing himself towards our table. Young JONES 
 did not want to hear him speak, but cried out, 
 " Hooray, here they are ! " flung his napkin over his 
 head, dashed off his chair, sprang at his hat like a 
 kitten at a ball, and bounced out of the door, crying 
 out, " Come along, MR. SPECK ! " whilst the individual 
 addressed much more deliberately followed. " Happy 
 AUGUSTUS ! " I mentally exclaimed. " thou brisk 
 and bounding votary of pleasure ! When the virile 
 toga has taken the place of the jacket and turned-down 
 collar, that Columbine, who will float before you a 
 goddess to-night, will only be a third-rate dancing 
 female, with rouge, and large feet. You will see the 
 ropes by which the genii come down, and the dirty, 
 crumpled knees of the fairies and you won t be in 
 such a hurry to leave a good bottle of Port as now at 
 the pleasant age of thirteen." [By the way, boys 
 are made so abominably comfortable and odiously 
 happy, now-a-days, that when I look back to 1 802, 
 and my own youth, I get in a rage with the whole 
 race of boys, and feel inclined to flog them all round.] 
 Paying the bill, I say, and making these leisurely 
 observations, I passed under the hall of the Sarcoph- 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 247 
 
 agus, where THOMAS, the page, touched the gold- 
 knobbed hat respectfully to me, in a manner which 
 I think must have rather surprised old GENERAL 
 GROWLER, who was unrolling himself of his muffetees 
 and wrappers, and issued into the street, where Cox s 
 fly was in waiting: the windows up, and whitened 
 with a slight frost : the silhouettes of the dear beings 
 within dimly visible against the chemist s light oppo 
 site the Club ; and MASTER AUGUSTUS already kick 
 ing his heels on the box, by the side of the inebriated 
 driver. 
 
 I caused the youth to descend from that perch, 
 and the door of the fly being opened, thrust him in. 
 MRS. CAPTAIN FLATHER of course occupied the place 
 of honour an uncommonly capacious woman, and 
 one of the young ladies made a retreat from the front 
 seat, in order to leave it vacant for myself ; but I in 
 sisted on not incommoding MRS. CAPTAIN F., and 
 that the two darling children should sit beside her, 
 while I occupied the place of back bodkin between 
 the two Miss TWIGGS. 
 
 They were attired in white, covered up with 
 shawls, with bouquets in their laps, and their hair 
 dressed evidently for the occasion : MRS. FLATHER 
 in her red velvet, of course, with her large gilt state 
 turban. 
 
 She saw that we were squeezed on our side of the 
 carriage, and made an offer to receive me on hers. 
 
248 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 Squeezed? I should think we were; but 
 EMILY, LOUISA, you mischievous little black-eyed 
 creatures, who would dislike being squeezed by you ? 
 I wished it was to York we were going, and not to 
 Covent Garden. How swiftly the moments passed. 
 We were at the play-house in no time : and AUGUSTUS ; 
 plunged instantly out of the fly over the shins of 
 everybody. 
 
 II. 
 
 WE took possession of the private box assigned 
 to us: and MRS. FLATHER seated herself in the 
 place of honour each of the young ladies taking it 
 by turns to occupy the other corner. Miss MINNY and 
 MASTER JONES occupied the middle places ; and it 
 was pleasant to watch the young gentleman through 
 out the performance of the comedy during which 
 he was never quiet for two minutes now shifting his 
 chair, now swinging to and fro upon it, now digging 
 his elbows into the capacious sides of MRS. CAPTAIN 
 FLATHER, now beating with his boots against the 
 front of the box, or trampling upon the skirts of MRS. 
 FLATHER S satin garment. 
 
 He occupied himself unceasingly, too, in working 
 up and down MRS. F. sdouble-barelled French opera- 
 glass not a little to the detriment of that instru 
 ment and the wrath of the owner ; indeed, I have no 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 249 
 
 doubt, that had not MRS. FLATHER reflected that MRS. 
 COLONEL JONES gave some of the most elegant par 
 ties in London, to which she was very anxious to be 
 invited, she would have boxed MASTER AUGUSTUS S 
 ears in the presence of the whole audience of Covent 
 Garden. 
 
 One of the young ladies was, of course, obliged 
 to remain in the back row with MR. SPEC. We 
 could not see much of the play over MRS. F. s tur 
 ban ; but I trust that we were not unhappy in our re 
 tired position. Miss EMILY ! Miss LOUISA ! 
 there is one who would be happy to sit for a week 
 close by either of you, though it were on one of those 
 abomina.ble little private-box chairs. I know, for my 
 part, that every time the box-keeperess popped in her 
 head, and asked if we would take any refreshment, I 
 thought the interruption odious. 
 
 Our young ladies, and their stout chaperon and 
 aunt, had come provided with neat little bouquets of 
 flowers, in which they evidently took a considerable 
 pride, and which were laid, on their first entrance, on 
 the ledge in front of our box. 
 
 But, presently, on the opposite side of the house 
 MRS. CUTBUSH, of Pocklington Gardens, appeared 
 with her daughters, and bowed in a patronising man 
 ner to the ladies of our party, with whom the CUTBUSH 
 family had a slight acquaintance. 
 
 Before ten minutes, the bouquets of our party 
 
$50 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 were whisked away from the ledge of the box. MRS. 
 FLATHER dropped hers to the ground, where MASTER 
 JONES S feet speedily finished it ; Miss LOUISA TWIGG 
 let hers fall into her lap and covered it with her 
 pocket-handkerchief. Uneasy signals passed between 
 her and her sister. I could not, at first, understand 
 wrhat event had occurred to make these ladies so un 
 happy. 
 
 At last the secret came out. The MISSES CUT- 
 BUSH had bouquets like little haystacks before them. 
 Our small nosegays, which had quite satisfied the girls 
 until now, had become odious in their little jealous 
 eyes ; and the CUTBUSHES triumphed over them. 
 
 I have joked the ladies subsequently on this ad 
 venture ; but not one of them will acknowledge the 
 charge against them. It was mere accident that 
 made them drop the flowers pure accident. They 
 jealous of the CUTBUSHES not they indeed ! and, of 
 course, each person on this head is welcome to his 
 own opinion. 
 
 How different, meanwhile, was the behaviour of 
 my young friend MASTER JONES, who is not as yet 
 sophisticated by the world. He not only nodded to 
 his father s servant, who had taken a place in the pit, 
 and was to escort his young master home, but he dis 
 covered a schoolfellow in the pit likewise. " By Jore, 
 there s SMITH ! " he cried out, as if the sight of 
 SMITH was the most extraordinary event in the world. 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 251 
 
 He pointed out SMITH to all of us. He never ceas 
 ed nodding, winking, grinning, telegraphing, until he 
 had succeeded in attracting the attention not only of 
 MASTER SMITH, but of the greater part of the house ; 
 and whenever anything in the play struck him as wor 
 thy of applause, he instantly made signals to SMITH 
 below, and shook his fist at him, as much as to say, 
 " By Jove, old fellow, ain t it good ? I say, SMITH, 
 isn t it prime, old boy ? " He actually made remarks 
 on his fingers to MASTER SMITH during the perform 
 ance. 
 
 I confess he was one of the best parts of the 
 night s entertainment to me. How JONES and SMITH 
 will talk about that play when they meet after holi 
 days ! And not only then will they remember it, 
 but all their lives long. Why do you remember that 
 play you saw thirty years ago, and forget the one 
 over which you yawned last week ? Ah, my brave 
 little boy, I thought, in my heart ; twenty years hence 
 you will recollect this, and have forgotten many a 
 better thing. You will have been in love twice or 
 thrice by that time, and have forgotten it ; you will 
 have buried your wife and forgotten her ; you will 
 have had ever so many friendships and forgotten 
 them. You and SMITH won t care for each other, 
 very probably ; but you ll remember all the actors 
 and the plot of this piece we are seeing. 
 
 I protest I have forgotten it myself. In our 
 
252 TRAVELS IN LONDON, 
 
 back row we could not see or hear much of the per 
 formance (and no great loss) fitful bursts of elocu 
 tion only occasionally reaching us, in which we could 
 recognise the well-known nasal twang of the excel 
 lent MR. STUPOR, who performed the part of the 
 young hero ; or the ringing laughter of MRS. BEL- 
 MORE, who had to giggle through the whole piece. 
 
 It was one of MR. BOYSTER S Comedies of 
 English Life. FRANK NIGHTRAKE (Stupor), and his 
 friend, BOB FITZOFFLEY. appeared in the first scene, 
 having a conversation with that impossible Valet of 
 English Comedy, whom any gentleman would turn 
 out of doors before he could get through half a 
 length of the dialogue assigned. I caught only a 
 glimpse of this Act. BOB, like a fashionable young 
 dog of the aristocracy (the character was played by 
 BULGER, a meritorious man, but very stout, and 
 nearly fifty years of age), was dressed in a rhubarb- 
 colored body-coat with brass buttons, a couple of 
 under waistcoats, a blue satin stock with a paste 
 brooch in it, and an eighteenpenny cane, which he 
 never let out of his hand, and with which he poked 
 fun at everybody. FRANK NIGHTRAKE, on the con 
 trary, being at home, was attired in a very close- 
 fitting chintz dressing-gown, lined with glazed red 
 calico, and was seated before a large pewter teapot, 
 at breakfast. And, as your true English Comedy is 
 the representation of Nature, I could not but think 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 253 
 
 how like these figures on the stage, and the dialogue 
 which they used, were to the appearance and talk of 
 English gentlemen of the present day. 
 
 The dialogue went on somewhat in the following 
 fashion : 
 
 Bob Fitzoffley (enters whistling). The top of the 
 morning to thee, .FRANK ! What ! at breakfast al 
 ready ? At chocolate and the Morning Post, like a 
 dowager of sixty ? SLANG ! (he pokes the servant 
 with his cane) What has come to thy master, thou 
 Prince of Valets ! thou pattern of Slaveys ! thou 
 swiftest of Mercuries ! Has the HONOURABLE FRAN 
 CIS NIGHTRAKE lost his heart, or his head, or his 
 health? 
 
 Frank (laying down the paper). BOB, BOB, I 
 have lost all three ! I have lost my health, BOB, 
 with thee and thy like, over the Burgundy at the 
 Club ; I have lost my head, BOB, with thinking how 
 I shall pay my debts ; and I have lost my heart, BOB, 
 oh, to such a creature ! 
 
 Frank. A VENUS, of course. 
 
 Slang. With the presence of JUNO. 
 
 Bob. And the modesty of MINERVA. 
 
 Frank. And the coldness of DIANA ! 
 
 Bob. Pish ! What a sigh is that about a woman ! 
 Thou shalt be ENDYMION, the night-rake of old : and 
 conquer this shy goddess. Hey, SLANG ? 
 
254 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 Herewith SLANG takes the lead of the conversa 
 tion, and propounds a plot for running away with the 
 heiress ; and I could not help remarking how like the 
 comedy was to life how the gentlemen always say 
 " thou," and " prythee," and " go to," and talk about 
 Heathen goddesses, to each other ; how their servants 
 are always their particular intimates ; how, when there 
 is serious love-making between a gentleman and lady, 
 a comic attachment invariably springs up between 
 the valet and waiting-maid of each ; how LADY GRACE 
 GADABOUT, when she calls upon BOSE RINGDOVE to 
 pay a morning visit, appears in a low satin dress, with 
 jewels in her hair ; how SAUCEBOX, her attendant, 
 wears diamond brooches, and rings on all her fingers : 
 while MRS. TALLYHO. on the other hand, transacts all 
 the business of life in a riding-habit, and always 
 points her jokes by a cut of the whip. 
 
 This playfulness produced a roar all over the 
 house, whenever it was repeated, and always made 
 our little friends clap their hands and shout in chorus. 
 
 Like that bon-vivant who envied the beggars 
 staring into the cook-shop windows, and wished he 
 could be hungry, I envied the boys, and wished I 
 could laugh, very much. In the last Act, I remem 
 ber for it is now very nearly a week ago every 
 body took refuge either in a secret door, or behind a 
 screen or curtain, or under a table, or up a chimney ; 
 and the house roared as each person came out from his 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 255 
 
 place of concealment. And the old fellow in top- 
 boots, joining the hands of the young couple (Frrz- 
 OFFLEY. of course, pairing off with the widow), gave 
 them his blessing, and thirty thousand pounds. 
 
 And ah, ye gods ! if I wished before that Come 
 dies were like life, how I wished that life was like 
 Comedies ! Whereon, the drop fell ; and AUGUSTUS, 
 clapping to the opera-glass, jumped up, crying 
 " Hurray ! now for the Pantomime." 
 
 III. 
 
 THE composer of the Overture of the New Grand 
 Comic Christmas Pantomime, Harlequin and the 
 Fairy of the Spangled Pocket-handkerchief, or the 
 Prince of the Enchanted Nose, arrayed in a bran new 
 Christmas suit, with his wristbands and collar turned 
 elegantly over his cuffs and embroidered satin tie, 
 takes a place at his desk, waves his stick, and away 
 the Pantomime Overture begins. 
 
 I pity a man who can t appreciate a Pantomime 
 Overture. Children do not like it : they say, " Hang 
 it, I wish the Pantomime would begin : " but for us it 
 is always a pleasant moment of reflection and enjoy 
 ment. It is not difficult music to understand, like 
 that of your MENDELSSOHNS and BEETHOVENS, whose 
 symphonies and sonatas MRS. SPEC states must be 
 heard a score of times before you can comprehend 
 
256 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 them. But of the proper Pantomime-music I am a 
 delighted connoisseur. Perhaps it is because you 
 meet so many old friends in these compositions 
 consorting together in the queerest manner, and occa 
 sioning numberless pleasant surprises. Hark ! there 
 goes " Old Dan Tucker " wandering into the " Groves 
 of Blarney ; " our friends the " Scots wha hoe wi 1 
 Wallace bled " march rapidly down " Wapping Old 
 Stairs" from which the " Figlia del Reggimento " 
 comes bounding briskly, when she is met, embraced, 
 and carried off by " Billy Taylor^ that brisk young 
 fellow. 
 
 All this while you are thinking with a faint, sickly 
 kind of hope, that perhaps the Pantomime may be a 
 good one ; something like Harlequin and the Golden 
 Orange Tree, which you recellect in your youth ; 
 something like Fortunio : that marvellous and delight 
 ful piece of buffoonery, which realised the most gor 
 geous visions of the absurd. You may be happy, 
 perchance : a glimpse of the old days may come back 
 to you. Lives there the man with soul so dead, the 
 being ever so blase and travel-worn, who does not feel 
 some shock and thrill still ? Just at that moment 
 when the bell (the dear and familiar bell of your 
 youth) begins to tingle, and the curtain to rise, and 
 the large shoes and ankles, the flesh-coloured leggings, 
 the crumpled knees, the gorgeous robes and masks 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 257 
 
 finally, of the actors ranged on the stage to shout 
 the opening chorus. 
 
 All round the house you hear a great gasping 
 a-ha-a from a thousand children s throats. Enjoy 
 ment is going to give place to Hope. Desire is about 
 to be realised. you blind little brats ! Clap your 
 hands, and cram over the boxes, and open your eyes 
 with happy wonder ! Clap your hands now. In three 
 weeks more, the REVEREND DOCTOR SWISHTAIL ex 
 pects the return of his young friends to Sugarcane 
 
 House. 
 
 # # * # * * * * 
 
 King Beak, Emperor of the Romans, having in 
 vited all the neighbouring Princes, Fairies, and En 
 chanters to the feast at which he celebrated the mar 
 riage of his only son, Prince Aquiline, unluckily 
 gave the liver-wing of the fowl which he was carving 
 to the Prince s godmother, the Fairy Bandanna 
 while he put the gizzard-pinion on the plate of the 
 Enchanter Gorgibus, King of the Maraschino Moun 
 tains, and father of the Princess Rosolia, to whom 
 the Prince was affianced. 
 
 The outraged Gorgibus rose from table, in a 
 fury, smashed his plate of chicken over the head of 
 King Beak s Chamberlain, and wished that Prince 
 Aquiline s nose might grow on the instant as long as 
 the sausage before him. 
 
 It did so ; the screaming Princess rushed away 
 
258 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 from her bridegroom, and her father, breaking off 
 the match with the House of Beak, ordered his 
 daughter to be carried in his sedan by the two giant- 
 porters Gor and Gogstay, to his castle in the Juniper 
 Forest, by the side of the bitter waters of the Absin- 
 thine Lake, whither, after upsetting the marriage- 
 tables, and flooring King Beak in a single combat, 
 he himself repaired. 
 
 The latter monarch could not bear to see or even 
 to hear his disfigured son. 
 
 When the Prince Aquiline blew his unfortunate 
 and monstrous nose, the windows of his father s pal 
 ace broke ; the locks of the doors started ; the dishes 
 and glasses of the King s banquet jingled and 
 smashed as they do on board a steamboat in a storm ; 
 the liquor turned sour ; the Chancellor s wig started 
 off his head, and the Prince s royal father, disgusted 
 with his son s appearance, drove him forth from his 
 palace, and banished him the kingdom. 
 
 Life was a burthen to him on account of that 
 nose. He fled from a world in which he was ashamed 
 to show it, and would have preferred a perfect soli 
 tude, but that he was obliged to engage one faithful 
 attendant to give him snuff (his only consolation) and 
 to keep his odious nose in order. 
 
 But as he was wandering in a lonely forest, en 
 tangling his miserable trunk in the thickets, and caus 
 ing the birds to fly scared from the branches, and the 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 259 
 
 lions, stags, and foxes to sneak away in terror as they 
 heard the tremendous booming which issued from the 
 fated Prince whenever he had occasion to use his 
 pocket-handkerchief, the Fairy of the Bandanna Isl 
 ands took pity on him, and, descending in her car 
 drawn by doves, gave him a kerchief which rendered 
 him invisible whenever he placed it over his monstrous 
 proboscis. 
 
 Having occasion to blow his nose (which he was 
 ^bliged to do pretty frequently, for he had taken cold 
 while lying out among the rocks and morasses in the 
 rainy miserable nights, so that the peasants, when 
 they heard him snoring fitfully, thought that storms 
 were abroad) at the gates of a castle by which he 
 was passing, the door burst open, and the Irish Giant 
 (afterwards Clown, indeed) came out. and wondering 
 looked about, furious to see no one. 
 
 The Prince entered into the castle, and whom 
 should he find there but the Princess Rosalia, still 
 plunged in despair. Her father snubbed her perpet 
 ually. " I wish he would snub me ! " exclaimed the 
 Prince, pointing to his own monstrous deformity. In 
 spite of his misfortune, she still remembered her 
 Prince. " Even with his nose," the faithful Princess 
 cried, u I love him more than all the world beside ! " 
 
 At this declaration of unalterable fidelity, the 
 Prince flung away his handkerchief, and knelt in rap 
 ture at the Princess s feet. She was a little scared 
 
260 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 at first by the hideousness of the distorted being be 
 fore her but what will not woman s faith overcome ? 
 Hiding her head on his shoulder (and so losing sight 
 of his misfortune), she vowed to love him still (in 
 those broken verses which only Princesses in Panto 
 mimes deliver). 
 
 At this instant King Gwgibus, the Giants, the 
 King s Household, with clubs and battle-axes, rushed 
 in. Drawing his immense scimetar, and seizing the 
 Prince by his too-prominent feature, he was just on 
 the point of sacrificing him, when when, I need 
 not say, the Fairy Bandanna (Miss BENDIGO), in 
 her amaranthine car drawn by Paphian doves, ap 
 peared and put a stop to the massacre. King Gor- 
 gibus became Pantaloon, the two Griants first and 
 second Clowns, and the Prince and Princess (who 
 had been, all the time of the Fairy s speech, and ac 
 tually while under their father s scimetar, unhooking 
 their dresses) became the most elegant Harlequin and 
 Columbine that I have seen for many a long day. 
 The nose flew up to the ceiling, the music began a 
 jig, and the two Clowns, after saying " How are 
 you ? " went and knocked down Pantaloon. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ON the conclusion of the pantomime, the present 
 memorialist had the honour to conduct the ladies under 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 261 
 
 his charge to the portico of the theatre, where the 
 green fly was in waiting to receive them. The driver 
 was not more inebriated than usual ; the young page 
 with the gold-knobbed hat was there to protect his 
 mistresses ; and though the chaperon of the party 
 certainly invited me to return with them to Bromp- 
 ton and there drink tea, the proposal was made in 
 terms so faint, and the refreshment offered was so 
 moderate, that I declined to journey six miles on a 
 cold night in order to partake of such a meal. The 
 waterman of the coach-stand, who had made himself 
 conspicuous by bawling out for MRS. FEATHER S car 
 riage, was importunate with me to give him sixpence 
 for pushing the ladies into the vehicle. But it was 
 my opinion that MRS. FLATHER ought to settle that 
 demand ; and as, while the fellow was urging it, she 
 only pulled up the glass, bidding Cox s man to drive 
 on, I of course did not interfere. In vulgar and im 
 moral language he indicated, as usual, his discontent. 
 I treated the fellow with playful and, I hope, gentle 
 manlike satire. 
 
 MASTER JONES, who would not leave the box in 
 the theatre until the people came to shroud it with 
 brown-hollands, (by the way, to be the last person in 
 a theatre to put out the last light and then to find 
 one s way out of the vast, black, lonely place, must 
 require a very courageous heart) MASTER JONES, 
 I say, had previously taken leave of us, putting his 
 
262 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 arm under that of his father s footman, who had been 
 in the pit, and who conducted him to Russell Square. 
 I heard AUGUSTUS proposing to have oysters as they 
 went home, though he had twice in the course of the 
 performance made excursions to the cake-room of the 
 theatre, where he had partaken of oranges, macaroons, 
 apples, and ginger-beer. 
 
 As the altercation between myself and the link- 
 man was going on, young GRIGG (brother of GRIGG 
 of the Life Guards, himself reading for the Bar) 
 came up, and hooking his arm into mine, desired the 
 man to leave off " chaffing >? me ; asked him if he 
 would take a bill at three months for the money ; 
 told him if he would call at the Horns Tavern, Ken- 
 nington, next Tuesday week, he would find sixpence 
 there, done up for him in a brown paper parcel ; and 
 quite routed my opponent. " I know you, MR. 
 GRIGG," said he ; " you re a gentleman, you are :" 
 and so retired, leaving the victory with me. 
 
 Young MR. GRIGG is one of those young bucks 
 about town, who goes every night of his life to two 
 Theatres, to the Casino, to WEIPPERT S balls, to the 
 Cafe de 1 Haymarket, to BOB SLOGGER S, the boxing- 
 house, to the Harmonic Meetings at the Kidney Cel 
 lars, and other places of fashionable resort. He 
 knows everybody at these haunts of pleasure ; takes 
 boxes for the actors benefits ; has the word from 
 head-quarters about the venue of the fight between 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 263 
 
 Putney Sambo and the Tutbury Pet ; gets up 
 little dinners at their public-houses ; shoots pigeons, 
 fights cocks, plays fives, has a boat on the river, 
 and a room at RUMMER S, in Conduit Street, 
 besides his Chambers at the Temple, where his 
 parents, SIR JOHN and LADY GRIGG, of Portman 
 Square, and Grigsby Hall, Yorkshire, believe that he 
 is assiduously occupied in studying the Law. " TOM 
 applies too much," her ladyship says. " His father 
 was obliged to remove him from Cambridge on ac 
 count of a brain fever brought on by hard reading, 
 and in consequence of the jealousy of some of the 
 collegians ; otherwise, I am told, he must have been 
 Senior Wrangler, and seated first of the Tripod." 
 
 " I m going to begin the evening," said this inge 
 nuous young fellow ; " I ve only been at the Lowther 
 Arcade, WEIPPERT S hop, and the billiard-rooms. I 
 just toddled in for half an hour to see BROOKE in 
 Othello, and looked in for a few minutes behind the 
 scenes at the Adelphi. What shall be the next re 
 sort of pleasure, SPEC, my elderly juvenile ? Shall 
 it be the Sherry- Cobbler-Stall, or the Cave of Har 
 mony ? There s some prime glee-singing there." 
 
 " What ! is the old Cave of Harmony still ex 
 tant ? " I asked. " I have not been there these 
 twenty years." And memory carried me back to the 
 days when LIGHTSIDES, of Corpus, myself, and little 
 OAKS, the Johnian, came up to town in a chaise-and- 
 
264 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 four, at the long vacation at the end of our fresh 
 man s year, ordered turtle and venison for dinner at 
 the Bedford, blubbered over Black-eyed Susan at 
 the play, and then finished the evening at that very 
 Harmonic Cave, where the famous English Improvi- 
 satore sang with such prodigious talent that we asked 
 him down to stay with us in the country. SPURGIN, 
 and HAWKER, the fellow-commoner of our College, 
 I remember me, were at the Cave too, and BARDOLPH, 
 of Brazennose. Lord, lord, what a battle and strug 
 gle and wear and tear of life there has been since 
 then ! HAWKER levanted, and SPURGIN is dead these 
 ten years ; little OAKS is a whiskered Captain of 
 Heavy Dragoons, who cut down no end of Sikhs at 
 Sobraon ; LIGHTSIDES a Tractarian parson, who turns 
 his head and walks another way when we meet ; and 
 your humble servant well, never mind. But in my 
 spirit I saw them all those blooming and jovial 
 young boys and LIGHTSIDES, with a cigar in his 
 face, and a bang-up white coat, covered with mother- 
 of-pearl cheese-plates, bellowing out for " First and 
 Second Turn-out," as our yellow post-chaise came 
 rattling up to the Inn door at Ware. 
 
 " And so the Cave of Harmony is open," I said, 
 looking at little G-RIGG with a sad and tender inter 
 est, and feeling that I was about a hundred years 
 old. 
 
 " 1 believe you, my baw-aw-oy ! " said he, adopt- 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 265 
 
 ing the tone of an exceedingly refined and popular 
 actor, whose choral and comic powers render him a 
 general favourite. 
 
 " Does BIVINS keep it ? " I asked, in a voice of 
 profound melancholy. 
 
 " Hoh ! What a flat you are ! You might as 
 well ask if MRS. SIDDONS acted Lady Macbeth to 
 night, and if QUEEN ANNE S dead or not. I tell you 
 what, SPEC, my boy you re getting a regular old 
 flat fogy, Sir, a positive old fogy. How the deuce 
 do you pretend to be a man about town, and not 
 know that BIVINS has left the Cavern ? Law bless 
 you ! Come in and see : I know the landlord I ll 
 introduce you to him." 
 
 This was an offer which no man could resist ; and 
 so G-RIGG and I went through the Piazza, and down 
 the steps of that well-remembered place of convivial 
 ity. GTRIGG knew everybody ; wagged his head in at 
 the bar, and called for two glasses of his particular 
 mixture ; nodded to the singers ; winked at one 
 friend put his little stick against his nose as a token 
 of recognition to another ; and calling the waiter by 
 his Christian name, poked him playfully with the 
 end of his cane, and asked him whether he, G-RIGG, 
 should have a lobster kidney, or a mashed oyster and 
 scolloped taters, or a poached rabbit, for supper ? 
 
 The room was full of young rakish-looking lads, 
 with a dubious sprinkling of us middle-aged youth. 
 12 
 
266 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 and stalwart red-faced fellows from the country, with 
 whisky noggins before them, and bent upon seeing 
 life. A grand piano had been introduced into the 
 apartment, which did not exist in the old days : 
 otherwise, all was as of yore smoke rising from 
 scores of human chimneys, waiters bustling about with 
 cigars and liquors in the intervals of the melody 
 and the President of the meeting (BiviNs no more) 
 encouraging gents to give their orders. 
 
 Just as the music was about to begin, I looked 
 opposite me, and there, by Heavens ! sat BARDOLPH, 
 of Brazennose, only a little more purple, and a few 
 shades more dingy than he used to look twenty years 
 ago. 
 
 V. 
 
 " LOOK at that old Greek in the cloak and fur 
 collar opposite," said my friend MR. G-RIGG. " That 
 chap is here every night. They call him LORD FAR- 
 INTOSH. He has five glasses of whisky-and-water every 
 night seventeen - hundred - and - twenty - five goes of 
 alcohol in a year ; we totted it up one night at the 
 bar. JAMES the waiter is now taking number three 
 to him. He don t count the wine he has had at 
 dinner." Indeed, JAMES the waiter, knowing the 
 gentleman s peculiarities, as soon as he saw MR. BAR 
 DOLPH s glass nearly empty, brought him another 
 noggin and a jug of boiling water without a word. 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 267 
 
 Memory carried me instantaneously back to the 
 days of my youth. I had the honour of being at 
 school with BARDOLPH before he went to Brazennose ; 
 the under boys used to look up at him from afar off, 
 as at a godlike being. He was one of the head boys 
 of the school ; a prodigious dandy in pigeon-hole 
 trowsers, ornamented with what they called " tucks " 
 in front. He wore a ring, leaving the little finger, on 
 which he wore the jewel, out of his pocket, in which 
 he carried the rest of his hand. He had whiskers 
 even then ; and to this day I cannot understand why 
 he is not seven feet high. When he shouted out 
 "Under boy!." we small ones trembled and came to 
 him. I recollect he called me once from a hundred 
 yards off, and I came up in a tremor. He pointed 
 to the ground. 
 
 "Pick up my hockey-stick," he said, pointing 
 towards it with the hand with the ring on ! He had 
 dropped the stick. He was too great, wise, and good, 
 to stoop to pick it up himself. 
 
 He got the silver medal for Latin Sapphics, in 
 the year POGRAM was gold medallist. When he went 
 up to Oxford, the Head- Master, the Rev. J. FLIBBER, 
 complimented him in a valedictory speech, made him 
 a present of books, and prophesied that he would do 
 great things at the University. He had got a scholar 
 ship, and won a prize-poem, which the DOCTOR read 
 out to the sixth form with great emotion. It was on 
 
268 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 " The Recollections of Childhood," and the last lines 
 
 " Qtialia prospiciens catulus ferit sethora risu, 
 Ipsaque trans lunae coruua vacca salit." 
 
 I thought of these things rapidly, gazing on the 
 individual before me. The brilliant young fellow of 
 1815 (by-the-bye it was the Waterloo year, by which 
 some people may remember it better ; but at school 
 we spoke of years, as " POGRAM S year," " TOKELY S 
 year," &c.) there, I say, sat before me the dashing 
 young buck of 1815, a fat, muzzy, red-faced old man, 
 in a battered hat, absorbing whisky-and-water, and 
 half listening to the singing. 
 
 A wild, long-haired professional gentleman with a 
 fluty voice, and with his shirt-collar turned down, 
 began to sing as follows : 
 
 "WHEN THE GLOOM IS ON THE GLEN." 
 
 "When the moonlight s on the mountain 
 
 And the gloom is on the glen, 
 At the cross beside the fountain 
 
 There is one will meet thee then. 
 At the cross beside the fountain ; 
 
 Yes, the cross beside the fountain, 
 There is one will meet thee then ! 
 
 [Down goes half of MR. BARDOLPH S No. 3 Whitsky 
 during this refrain. ] 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 269 
 
 "I have braved, since first we met, love, 
 
 Many a danger in my course ; 
 But I never can forget, love, 
 
 That dear fountain, that old cross, 
 Where, her mantle shrouded o er her 
 
 For the winds were chilly then 
 First I met my LEONORA, 
 
 When the gloom was on the glen, 
 
 Yes, I met my, <fcc. 
 
 [Another gulp and almost total disappearance of 
 Whisky-go, No. 3.] 
 
 " Many a clime I ve ranged since then, love, 
 
 Many a land I ve wandered o er ; 
 But a valley like that glen, love, 
 
 Half so dear I never sor ! 
 Ne er saw maiden fairer, coyer, 
 
 Than wert thou, my true love, when 
 In the gloaming first I saw yer, 
 
 In the gloaming of the glen ! " 
 
 BARDOLPH, who had not shown the least symp 
 toms of emotion as the gentleman with the fluty voice 
 performed this delectable composition, began to whack, 
 whack, whack on the mahogany with his pewter 
 measure at the conclusion of the song, wishing, per 
 haps, to show that the noggin was empty ; in which 
 manner JAMES, the waiter, interpreted the signal, for 
 he brought MR. BARDOLPH another supply of liquor. 
 
 The song, words, and music, composed and dedi- 
 
270 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 cated to CHARLES BIVINS, ESQUIRE, by FREDERIC 
 SNAPE, and ornamented with a picture of a young 
 lady, with large eyes and short petticoats, leaning at 
 a, stone cross by a fountain, was now handed about 
 the room by a waiter, and any gentleman was at 
 liberty to purchase it for half-a-crown. The man did 
 not offer the song to BARDOLPH ; he was too old a 
 hand. 
 
 After a pause, the president of the musical gents 
 cried out for silence again, and then stated to tne 
 company that MR. HOFF would sing " The Red 
 Flag" which announcement was received by the 
 Society with immense applause, and MR. HOFF, a 
 gentleman whom I remember to have seen exceed 
 ingly unwell on board a Gravesend steamer, began 
 the following terrific ballad : 
 
 "THE KED FLAG." 
 
 " "Where the quivering lightning flings 
 
 His arrows from out the clouds, 
 And the howling tempest sings, 
 
 And whistles among the shrouds, 
 Tis pleasant, tis pleasant to ride 
 
 Along the foaming brine 
 Wilt be the Rover s bride ? 
 
 Wilt follow him, lady mine ? 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 For the bonny, bonny brine. 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 271 
 
 " Amidst the storm and rack, 
 
 You shall see our galley pass, 
 As a serpent, lithe and black, 
 
 Glides through the waving grass ; 
 As the vulture, swift and dark, 
 
 Down on the ring-dove flies, 
 You shall see the Rover s bark 
 
 Swoop down upon his prize. 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 For the bonny, bonny prize. 
 
 " Over her sides we dash, 
 
 "We gallop across her deck 
 Ha ! there s a ghastly gash 
 
 On the merchant-captain s neck ! 
 Well shot, well shot, old NED ! 
 
 "Well struck, well struck, black JAMES ! 
 Our arms are red, and our foes are dead, 
 
 And we leave a ship in flames ! 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 For the bonny, bonny flames ! " 
 
 Frantic shouts of applause and encore hailed the 
 atrocious sentiments conveyed by MR. HOFF in this 
 ballad, from every body except BARDOLPH, who sat 
 muzzy and unmoved, and only, winked to the waiter 
 to bring him some more whisky. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WHEN the piratical ballad of MR. HOFF was con 
 cluded, a simple and quiet-looking young gentleman 
 
272 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 performed a comic song, in a way which, I must con 
 fess, inspired me with the utmost melancholy. 
 Seated at the table along with the other professional 
 gents, this young gentleman was in no wise to be 
 distinguished from any other young man of fashion : 
 he has a thin, handsome, and rather sad countenance ; 
 and appears to be a perfectly sober and meritorious 
 young man. But suddenly (and I daresay every 
 night of his life) he pulls a little flexible, grey coun 
 tryman s hat out of his pocket, and the moment he 
 has put it on, his face assumes an expression of un 
 utterable vacuity and folly, his eyes goggle round 
 savage, and his mouth stretches almost to his ears, 
 and he begins to sing a rustic song. 
 
 The battle-song and the sentimental ballad al 
 ready published are, I trust, sufficiently foolish, and 
 fair specimens of the class of poetry to which they 
 belong ; but the folly of the comic country song was 
 so great and matchless, that I am not going to com 
 pete for a moment with the author, or to venture to 
 attempt anything like his style of composition. It 
 was something about a man going a coorting MOLLY, 
 and " feayther," and " kyows," and " peegs," and other 
 rustic produce. The idiotic verse was interspersed 
 with spoken passages, of corresponding imbecility. 
 For the time during which MR. GRINSBY performed 
 this piece, he consented to abnegate altogether his 
 claim to be considered as a reasonable being ; ut- 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 273 
 
 terly to debase himself, in order to make the com 
 pany laugh ; and to forget the rank, dignity, and 
 privileges of a man. 
 
 His song made me so profoundly wretched that 
 little G-RIGG, remarking my depression, declared I 
 was as slow as a Parliamentary train. I was glad 
 they didn t have the song over again. When it was 
 done, MR. G-RINSBY put his little grey hat in his 
 pocket, the maniacal grin subsided from his features, 
 and he sate down with his naturally sad and rather 
 handsome young countenance. 
 
 0, G-RINSBY, thinks I, what a number of people and 
 things in this world do you represent ! Though we 
 weary listening to you, we may moralise over you ; 
 though you sing a foolish,witless song, you poor, young, 
 melancholy jester, there is some good in it that may be 
 had for the seeking. Perhaps that lad has a family at 
 home dependent on his grinning : I may entertain a 
 reasonable hope that he has despair in his heart ; a 
 complete notion of the folly of the business in which 
 he is engaged ; a contempt for the fools laughing and 
 guffawing round about at his miserable jokes ; and a 
 perfect weariness of mind at their original dulness 
 and continued repetition. What a sinking of spirit 
 must come over that young man, quiet in his cham 
 ber or family, orderly and sensible like other mortals, 
 when the thought of torn-fool hour comes across him, 
 and that at a certain time that night, whatever may 
 12* 
 
274 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 be his health, or distaste, or mood of mind or body, 
 there he must be, at a table at the Cave of Harmony, 
 littering insane ballads, with an idiotic grin on his 
 face, and hat on his head. 
 
 To suppose that GRINSBY has any personal pleas 
 ure in that song, would be to have too low an opinion 
 of human nature : to imagine that the applauses of 
 the multitude of the frequenters of the Cave tickled 
 his vanity, or are bestowed upon him deservedly 
 would be, I say, to think too hardly of him. Look 
 at him. He sits there quite a quiet, orderly young 
 fellow. Mark with what an abstracted, sad air he 
 joins in the chorus of MR. SNAPE S second song, " The 
 Minaret s bells o er the Bosphorus toll," and having 
 applauded his comrade at the end of the song (as I 
 have remarked these poor gentlemen always do), 
 moodily resumes the stump of his cigar. 
 
 " I wonder, my dear GRIGG, how many men there 
 are in the City who follow a similar profession to 
 GRINSBY S. What a number of poor rogues, wits in 
 their circle, or bilious, or in debt, or henpecked, or 
 otherwise miserable in their private circumstances, 
 come grinning out to dinner of a night, and laugh 
 and crack, and let off their good stories like yonder 
 professional funny fellow. Why, I once went into 
 the room of that famous dinner-party conversational 
 ist and wit. HORSELEY COLLARD ; and whilst he was 
 in his dressing-room arranging his wig, just looked 
 
275 
 
 over the books on the table before his sofa. There 
 were l BURTON S Anatomy for the quotations, three 
 of which he let off that very night ; SPENCE S Lite 
 rary Anecdotes. of which he fortuitously introduced 
 a couple in the course of the evening ; BAKER S 
 Chronicle ; the last new Novel, and a book of Meta 
 physics, every one of which I heard him quote, be 
 sides four stories out of his common-place book, at 
 which I took a peep under the pillow. He was like 
 GRINSBY." Who isn t like GRINSBY in life ? thought 
 I to myself, examining that young fellow. 
 
 " When BAWLER goes down to the House of Com 
 mons from a meeting with his creditors, and, having 
 been a bankrupt a month before, becomes a patriot 
 all of a sudden, and pours you out an intensely in 
 teresting speech upon the West Indies, or the Win 
 dow Tax, he is no better than the poor gin-and-water 
 practitioner yonder, and performs in his Cave, as 
 GRINSBY in his under the Piazza. 
 
 " When SERGEANT BLUEBAG fires into a witness, 
 or performs a jocular or a pathetic speech to a 
 jury, in what is he better than GRINSBY, except in so 
 far as the amount of gain goes ? than poor GRINSBY 
 rapping at the table and cutting professional jokes, 
 at half-a-pint-of-whisky fee ? 
 
 " When TIGHTROPE, the celebrated literary genius, 
 sits down to write and laugh with the children very 
 likely ill at home with a strong personal desire to 
 
276 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 write a tragedy or a sermon, with his wife scolding 
 him, his head racking with pain, his mother-in-law 
 making a noise at his ears, and telling him that he is 
 a heartless and abandoned ruffian, his tailor in the 
 passage, vowing that he will not quit that place until 
 his little bill is settled when, I say, TIGHTROPE 
 writes off, under the most miserable private circum 
 stances, a brilliant funny article, in how much is he 
 morally superior to my friend GRINSBY? When 
 LORD COLCHICTJM stands bowing and smiling before 
 his sovereign, with gout in his toes and grief in his 
 heart ; when parsons in the pulpit when editors at 
 their desks forget their natural griefs, pleasures, 
 opinions, to go through the business of life, the 
 masquerade of existence, in what are they better 
 than GRINSBY yonder, who has similarly to perform 
 his buffooning ? " 
 
 As I was continuing in this moral and interroga 
 tory mood no doubt boring poor little GRIGG, who 
 came to the Cave for pleasure, and not for philo 
 sophical discourse MR. BARDOLPH opposite caught 
 a sight of the present writer through the fumes of the 
 cigars, and came across to our table, holding his 
 fourth glass of toddy in his hand. He held out the 
 other to me : it was hot, and gouty, and not particu 
 larly clean. 
 
 "Deuced queer place this, hey?" said he, pre 
 tending to survey it with the air of a stranger. " I 
 
A NIGHT S PLEASURE. 277 
 
 come here every now and then, on my way home to 
 Lincoln s Inn from from parties at the other end 
 of the town. It is frequented by a parcel of queer 
 people low shop-boys and attorneys clerks ; but 
 hang it, Sir, they know a gentleman when they see 
 one, and not one of those fellows would dare to speak 
 to me no, not one of em, by Jove if I didn t ad 
 dress him first, by Jove ! I don t suppose there s a 
 man in this room could construe a page in the com- 
 , monest Greek book, SPEC. You heard that donkey 
 singing about LEONORAR and * before her ? How 
 FLIBBER would have given it to us for such rhymes, 
 hey ? A parcel of ignoramuses ! but hang it, Sir, 
 they do know a gentleman ! " And here he winked 
 at me with a vinous bloodshot eye, as much as to in 
 timate that he was infinitely superior to every person 
 in the room. 
 
 Now this BARDOLPH, having had the ill-luck to 
 get a fellowship, and subsequently a small private 
 fortune, has done nothing since the year 1820 but 
 get drunk and read Greek. He despises every man 
 who does not know that language (so that you and I, 
 my dear Sir, come in for a fair share of his con 
 tempt). He can still put a slang song into Greek 
 Iambics, or turn a police report into the language of 
 TACITUS or HERODOTUS ; but it is difficult to see what 
 accomplishment beyond this the boozy old mortal 
 possesses. He spends nearly a third part of his life 
 
278 TRAVELS IN LONDON. 
 
 aiid income at his dinner, or on his whisky at a 
 tavern ; more than another third portion is spent in 
 bed. It is past noon before he gets up to breakfast, 
 and to spell over the Times, which business of the 
 day being completed, it is time for him to dress and 
 take his walk to the club to dinner. He scorns a 
 man who puts his h s in the wrong place, and spits at 
 a human being who has not had a University educa 
 tion. And yet I am sure that bustling waiter push 
 ing about with a bumper of cigars ; that tallow-faced 
 young comic singer ; yonder harmless and happy 
 Snobs, enjoying the conviviality of the evening (and 
 all the songs are quite modest now, not like the ribald 
 old ditties which they used to sing in former days), 
 are more useful, more honourable, and more worthy 
 men, than that whiskyfied old scholar who looks down 
 upon them and their like. 
 
 He said he would have a sixth glass if we would 
 stop : but we didn t ; and he took his sixth glass 
 without us. My melancholy young friend had begun 
 another comic song, and I could bear it no more. 
 The market carts were rattling into Covent Garden ; 
 and the illuminated clock marked all sorts of small 
 hours as we concluded this night s pleasure. 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 JULY, 1840. 
 
 X , who had voted with MR. EWART for the 
 
 abolition of the punishment of death, was anxious to 
 see the effect on the public mind of an execution, and 
 asked me to accompany him to see COURVOISIER 
 killed. We had not the advantage of a sheriff s 
 order, like the " six hundred noblemen and gentle 
 men" who were admitted within the walls of the 
 prison ; but determined to mingle with the crowd at 
 the foot of the scaffold, and take up our positions at 
 a very early hour. 
 
 As I was to rise at three in the morning, I went 
 to bed at ten, thinking that five hours sleep would 
 be amply sufficient to brace me against the fatigues 
 of the coming day. But, as might have been ex 
 pected, the event of the morrow was perpetually before 
 my eyes through the night, and kept them wide open. 
 I heard all the clocks in the neighbourhood chime 
 the hours in succession ; a dog from some court hard 
 
280 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 by kept up a pitiful howling ; at one o clock, a cock 
 set up a feeble, melancholy crowing ; shortly after 
 two, the daylight came peeping grey through the 
 
 window-shutters ; and by the time that X arrived, 
 
 in fulfilment of his promise, I had been asleep about 
 half an hour. He. more wise, had not gone to rest 
 at all, but had remained up all night at the Club, 
 along with DASH and two or three more. DASH is 
 one of the most eminent wits in London, and had 
 kept the company merry all night with appropriate 
 jokes about the coming event. It is curious that a 
 murder is a great inspirer of jokes. We all like to 
 laugh and have our fling about it ; there is a certain 
 grim pleasure in the circumstance a perpetual jing 
 ling antithesis between life and death, that is sure of 
 its effect. 
 
 In mansion or garret, on down or straw, sur 
 rounded by weeping friends and solemn oily doctors, 
 or tossing unheeded upon scanty hospital beds, there 
 were many people in this great city to whom that 
 Sunday night was to be the last of any that they 
 should pass on earth here. In the course of half-a- 
 dozen dark, wakeful hours, one had leisure to think 
 of these (and a little, too, of that certain supreme night, 
 that shall come at one time or other, when he who 
 writes shall be stretched upon the last bed, prostrate 
 in the last struggle, taking the last look of dear faces 
 that have cheered us here, and lingering one mo- 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 281 
 
 ment more ere we part for the tremendous journey) ; 
 but, chiefly, I could not help thinking, as each clock 
 sounded, what is he doing now? has he heard it in 
 his little room in Newgate yonder ? Eleven o clock. 
 He has been writing until now. The gaoler says he 
 is a pleasant man enough to be with ; but he can hold 
 out no longer, and is very weary. "Wake me at 
 four," says he, "for I have still much to put down." 
 From eleven to twelve the gaoler hears how he is 
 grinding his teeth in his sleep. At twelve he is up 
 in his bed, and asks, " Is it the time ? " He has 
 plenty more time yet for sleep ; and he sleeps, and 
 the bells go on tolling. Seven hours more five 
 hours more. Many a carriage is clattering through 
 the streets, bringing ladies away from evening parties ; 
 many bachelors are reeling home after a jolly night ; 
 Covent Garden is alive ; and the light coming through 
 the cell-window turns the gaoler s candle pale. Four 
 hours more ! " COURVOISIER," says the gaoler, shaking 
 him, " it s four o clock now, and I ve woke you, as 
 you told me ; but there s no call for you to to get up 
 yet" The poor wretch leaves his bed, however, and 
 makes his last toilet ; and then falls to writing, to 
 tell the world how he did the crime for which he has 
 suffered. This time he will tell the truth, and the 
 whole truth. They bring him his breakfast "from 
 the coffee-shop opposite tea, coffee, and thin bread 
 and butter." He will take nothing, however, but goes 
 
282 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 on writing. He has to write to his mother the 
 pious mother far away in his own country who 
 reared him and loved him ; and even now has sent 
 him her forgiveness and her blessing. He finishes 
 his memorials and letters, and makes his will, dis 
 posing of his little miserable property of books and 
 tracts that pious people have furnished him with. 
 u Ce 6 Juillet, 1840. Francois Benjamin Courvoi- 
 sier vous donne ceci, mon ami, pour souvenir. 1 He 
 has a token for his dear friend the gaoler ; another 
 for his dear friend the under-sheriff. As the day of 
 the convict s death draws nigh, it is painful to see 
 how he fastens upon every body who approaches him, 
 how pitifully he clings to them and loves them. 
 
 While these things are going on within the 
 prison (with which we are made accurately ac 
 quainted by the copious chronicles of such events 
 
 which are published subsequently), X s carriage 
 
 has driven up to the door of my lodgings, and we 
 have partaken of an elegant disjeune that has been 
 prepared for the occasion. A cup of coffee at half- 
 past three in the morning is uncommonly pleasant ; 
 
 and X enlivens us with the repetition of the 
 
 jokes that DASH has just been making. Admirable, 
 certainly they must have had a merry night of it, 
 that s clear ; and we stoutly debate whether, when 
 one has to get up so early in the morning, it is best 
 to have an hour or two of sleep, or wait and go to 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 283 
 
 bed afterwards at the end of the day s work. That 
 fowl is extraordinarily tough the wing, even, is as 
 hard as a board ; a slight disappointment, for there is 
 nothing else for breakfast. " Will any gentleman 
 have some sherry and soda-water before he sets out? 
 It clears the brains famously." Thus primed, the 
 party sets out. The coachman has dropped asleep 
 on the box, and wakes up wildly as the hall-door 
 opens. It is just four o clock. About this very 
 time they are waking up poor pshaw ! who is for a 
 
 cigar? X does not smoke himself; but vows 
 
 and protests, in the kindest way in the world, that he 
 does not care in the least for the new drab-silk 
 
 linings of his carriage. Z , who smokes, mounts 
 
 however, the box. " DRIVE TO SNOW HILL," says the 
 owner of the chariot. The policemen, who are the 
 only people in the street, and are standing by, look 
 knowing they know what it means well enough. 
 
 How cool and clean the streets look, as the 
 carriage startles the echoes that have been asleep in 
 the corners all night. Somebody has been sweeping 
 the pavements clean in the night-time surely ; they 
 would not soil a lady s white satin shoes, they are so 
 dry and neat. There is not a cloud or a- breath in 
 
 the air, except Z s cigar, which whiffs off, and 
 
 soars straight upwards in volumes of white, pure 
 smoke. The trees in the squares look bright and 
 green as bright as leaves in the country in June. 
 
284 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 We who keep late hours don t know the beauty of 
 London air and verdure ; in the early morning they 
 are delightful the most fresh and lively companions 
 possible. But they cannot bear the crowd and the 
 bustle of mid-day. You don t know them then they 
 are no longer the same things. We have come to 
 Gray s Inn ; there is actually dew upon the grass in 
 the gardens ; and the windows of the stout old red 
 houses are all in a flame. 
 
 As we enter Holborn the town grows more ani 
 mated ; and there are already twice as many people 
 in the streets as you see at mid-day in a German 
 residenz or an English provincial town. The gin- 
 shop keepers have many of them taken their shutters 
 down, and many persons are issuing from them pipe 
 in hand. Down they go along the broad bright 
 street, their blue shadows marching after them ; for 
 they are all bound the same way, and are bent like 
 us upon seeing the hanging. 
 
 It is twenty minutes past four as we pass St. 
 Sepulchre s : by this time many hundred people are 
 in the street, and many more are coming up Snow 
 Hill. Before us lies Newgate Prison ; but some 
 thing a great deal more awful to look at, which seizes 
 the eye at once, and makes the heart beat, is 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 285 
 
 There it stands black and ready, jutting out from 
 a little door in the prison. As you see it, you feel a 
 kind of dumb electric shock, which causes one to 
 start a little, and give a sort of gasp for breath. The 
 shock is over in a second ; and presently you ex 
 amine the object before you with a certain feeling of 
 complacent curiosity. At least, such was the effect 
 that the gallows first produced upon the writer, who 
 is trying to set down all his feelings as they occurred, 
 and not to exaggerate them at all. 
 
 After the gallows-shock had subsided, we went 
 down into the crowd, which was very numerous, but 
 not dense as yet. It was evident that the day s 
 business had not begun. People sauntered up, and 
 formed groups, and talked ; the new comers asking 
 those who seemed habitues of the place about former 
 executions ; and did the victim hang with his face 
 towards the clock or towards Ludgate Hill ? and had 
 he the rope round his neck when he came on the 
 scaffold, or was it put on by Jack Ketch afterwards ? 
 and had Lord W taken a window, and which 
 
286 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 was he ? I may mention the noble marquess s name, 
 
 as he was not at the exhibition. A pseudo W 
 
 was pointed out in an opposite window, towards whom 
 all the people in our neighbourhood looked eagerly, 
 and with great respect too. The mob seemed to have 
 no sort of ill-will against him, but sympathy and admi 
 ration. This noble lord s personal courage and 
 strength has won the plebs over to him. Perhaps 
 /his exploits against policemen have occasioned some 
 
 / of this popularity ; for the mob hates them, as 
 
 \ children the schoolmaster. 
 
 Throughout the whole four hours, however, the 
 mob was extraordinarily gentle and good-humoured. 
 At first we had leisure to talk to the people about 
 
 us ; and I recommend X s brother senators of 
 
 both sides of the house to see more of this same 
 people, and to appreciate them better. Honourable 
 members are battling and struggling in the House ; 
 shouting, yelling, crowing, hear -hearing, pooh-pooh-ing, 
 making speeches of three columns, and gaining " great 
 Conservative triumphs," or " signal successes of the 
 Reform cause," as the case may be. Three hundred 
 and ten gentlemen of good fortune, and able for the 
 most part to quote HORACE, declare solemnly that 
 unless Sir ROBERT comes in, the nation is ruined. 
 Three hundred and fifteen on the other side swear 
 their great gods that the safety of the empire de 
 pends upon Lord JOHN ; and to this end they quote 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 287 
 
 HORACE too. I declare that I have never been in a 
 great London crowd without thinking of what they 
 call the two " great " parties in England with wonder. 
 For which of the two great leaders do these people 
 care, I pray you ? When Lord STANLEY withdrew his 
 Irish bill the other night, were they in transports of 
 joy, like worthy persons who read the Globe and the 
 Chronicle ? or when he beat the ministers, were 
 they wild with delight, like honest gentlemen who 
 read the Post and the Times ? Ask yonder ragged 
 fellow, who has evidently frequented debating-clubs, 
 and speaks with good sense and shrewd good-nature. 
 He cares no more for Lord JOHN than he does for 
 Sir ROBERT ; and, with due respect be it said, would 
 mind very little if both of them were ushered out by 
 Mr. Ketch, and took their places under yonder black 
 beam. What are the two great parties to him, and 
 those like him ? Sheer wind, hollow humbug, absurd 
 claptraps ; a silly mummery of dividing and debating, 
 which does not in the least, however it may turn, 
 affect his condition. It has been so ever since the 
 happy days when Whigs and Tories began ; and a 
 pretty pastime no doubt it is for both. August 
 parties, great balances of British freedom : are not 
 the two sides quite as active, and eager, and loud, as 
 at their very birth, and ready to fight for place as 
 stoutly as ever they fought before ? But, lo ! in the 
 meantime, whilst you are jangling and brawling over 
 
288 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 the accounts, Populus, whose estate you have ad 
 ministered while he was an infant, and could not 
 take care of himself Populus has been growing 
 and growing, till he is every bit as wise as his 
 guardians. Talk to our ragged friend. He is not 
 so polished, perhaps, as a member of the Oxford and 
 Cambridge Club; he has not been to Eton; and 
 never read HORACE in his life : but he can think just 
 as soundly as the best of you ; he can speak quite as 
 strongly in his own rough way ; he has been reading 
 all sorts of books of late years, and gathered together 
 no little information. He is as good a man as the 
 common run of us ; and there are ten million more 
 men in the country as good as he, ten million, for 
 whom we, in our infinite superiority, are acting as 
 guardians, and to whom, in our bounty, we give 
 exactly nothing. Put yourself in their position, 
 worthy sir. You and a hundred others find your 
 selves in some lone place, where you set up a govern 
 ment. You take a chief, as is natural; he is the 
 cheapest order-keeper in the world. You establish 
 half-a-dozen worthies, whose families you say shall 
 have the privilege to legislate for you for e^er ; half- 
 a-dozen more, who shall be appointed by a choice of 
 thirty of the rest; and the other sixty, who shall 
 have no choice, vote, place, or privilege, at all. 
 Honourable sir, suppose that you are one of the last 
 sixty : how will you feel, you who have intelligence. 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 289 
 
 passions, honest pride, as well as your neighbour; 
 how will you feel towards your equals, in whose 
 hands lie all the power and all the property of the 
 community ? Would you love and honour them, 
 tamely acquiesce in their superiority, see their privi 
 leges, and go yourself disregarded without a pang? 
 you are not a man if you would. I am not talking of 
 right or wrong, or debating questions of government. 
 But ask my friend there, with the ragged elbows and 
 no shirt, what he thinks? You have your party, 
 Conservative or Whig, as it may be. You believe 
 that an aristocracy is an institution necessary, beauti 
 ful, and virtuous. You are a gentleman, in other 
 words, and stick by your party. 
 
 And our friend with the elbows (the crowd is 
 thickening hugely all this time) sticks by his. Talk 
 to him of Whig or Tory, he grins at them ; of vir 
 tual representation, pish ! He is a democrat, and 
 will stand by his friends, as you by yours ; and they 
 are twenty millions, his friends, of whom a vast mi 
 nority now, a majority a few years hence, will be as 
 good as you. In the meantime we shall continue 
 electing, and debating, and dividing, and having every 
 day new triumphs for the glorious cause of Conserva 
 tism, or the glorious cause of Reform, until 
 
 #<*#** 
 
 What is the meaning of this unconscionable re 
 publican tirade a propos, of a hanging ? Such feel- 
 18 
 
290 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 ings, I think, must come across any man in a vast 
 multitude like this. What good sense and intelli 
 gence have most of the people by whom you are sur 
 rounded ; how much sound humour does one hear. ban 
 died about from one to another ? A great number 
 of coarse phrases are used, that would make ladies 
 in drawing rooms blush ; but the morals of the men 
 are good and hearty. A ragamuffin in the crowd (a 
 powdery baker in a white sheep s-wool cap) uses some 
 indecent expression to a woman near ; there is an in 
 stant cry of shame, which silences the man, and a 
 dozen people are ready to give the woman protection. 
 The crowd has grown very dense by this time, it is 
 about six o clock, and there is great heaving, and 
 pushing, and swaying to and fro ; but round the wo 
 men the men have formed a circle, and keep them as 
 much as possible out of the rush and trample. In 
 one of the houses near us, a gallery has been formed 
 on the roof. Seats were here let, and a number of 
 persons of various degrees were occupying them. 
 Several tipsy, dissolute-looking young men, of the 
 Dick Swiveller cast, were in this gallery. One was 
 lolling over the sunshiney tiles, with a fierce sodden 
 face, out of which came a pipe, and which was shaded 
 by long matted hair, and a hat cocked very much on 
 one side. This gentleman was one of a party, which 
 had evidently not been to bed on Sunday night, but 
 had passed it in some of those delectable night-houses 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 291 
 
 in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden. The de 
 bauch was not over yet, and the women of the party 
 were giggling, drinking, and romping, as is the wont 
 of these delicate creatures ; sprawling here and there, 
 and falling upon the knees of one or other of the 
 males. Their scarfs were off their shoulders, and 
 you saw the sun shining down upon the bare white 
 flesh, and the shoulder-points glittering like burning 
 glasses. The people about us were very indignant at 
 some of the proceedings of this debauched crew, and 
 at last raised up such a yell as frightened them into 
 shame, and they were more orderly for the remainder 
 of the day. The windows of the shops opposite be 
 gan to fill apace, and our before-mentioned friend 
 with ragged elbows pointed out a celebrated fashion 
 able character who occupied one of them ; and, to 
 our surprise, knew as much about him as the Court 
 Journal or the Morning Post. Presently he enter 
 tained us with a long and pretty accurate account of 
 
 the history of Lady , and indulged in a judicious 
 
 criticism upon her last work. I have met with many 
 a country gentleman who had not read half as many 
 books as this honest fellow, this shrewd proletaire in 
 a black shirt. The people about him took up and 
 carried on the conversation very knowingly, and were 
 very little behind him in point of information. It 
 was just as good a company as one meets on common 
 occasions. I was in a genteel crowd in one of the 
 
GOIXG TO SEE A MAX HAXGED, 
 
 galleries at the queen s coronation : indeed, in point 
 of intelligence, the democrats were quite equal to the 
 aristocrats. How many more such groups were there 
 in this immense multitude of nearly forty thousand. 
 as some say ? How many more such throughout the 
 country ? I never yet, as I said before, have been 
 in an English mob. without the same feeling for the 
 persons who composed it. and without wonder at the 
 rigorous, orderly good sense, and intelligence of the 
 people. 
 
 The character of the crowd was as yet. however, 
 quite festive. Jokes bandying about here and there, 
 and jolly laughs breaking out Some men were en 
 deavouring to climb up a leaden pipe on one of the 
 houses. The landlord came out and endeavoured, 
 with might and main, to pull them down. Many 
 thousand eyes turned upon this contest immediately. 
 All sorts of voices issued from the crowd and uttered 
 choice expressions of slang. When one of the men 
 was pulled down by the leg. the waves of this black 
 mob-ocean laughed innumerably : when one fellow 
 slipped away, scrambled up the pipe, and made good 
 his lodgement on the shelf, we were all made happy, 
 and encouraged him by loud shouts of admiration. 
 What is there so particularly delightful in the spec 
 tacle of a man clambering up a gas-pipe ? Why were 
 we kept for a quarter of an hour in deep interest gat 
 ing upon this remarkable scene ? Indeed it is hard 
 
GOIXG TO SEE A MAX HANGED. 293 
 
 to say : a man does not know what a fool he is until 
 he tries ; or, at least, what mean follies will amuse 
 him. The other day I went to Astley s and saw 
 clown come in with a foolscap and pinafore, and six 
 small boys who represented his school-fellows. To 
 them enters schoolmaster : horses clown, and flogs 
 him hugely on the back part of his pinafore. I never 
 read anything in Swift, Box, Rabelais, Fielding, 
 Paul de Kock which delighted me so much as this 
 "signtTand caused me to laugh so profoundly. And 
 why ? What is there so ridiculous in the sight of 
 one miserably rouged man beating another on the 
 l:.-V:i TV", us when thfl :\::: lies, ::: ::::$ :uvi the 
 before-mentioned episode of the gas-pipe ? Vast, in 
 deed, are the capacities and ingenuities of the human 
 soul that can find, in incidents so wonderfully small, 
 means of contemplation and amusement. 
 
 Really the time passed away with extraordinary 
 quickness, A thousand things of the sort related 
 here came to amuse us. First, the workmen knock 
 ing and hammering at the scaffold, mysterious 
 tering of blows was heard within it, and a ladder 
 painted black was carried round, and into the inte 
 rior of the edifice by a small side-door. We all 
 looked at this little ladder and at each other things 
 began to be very interesting. Soon came a squad of 
 policemen ; stalwart, rosy -looking men. saying much 
 for city-feeding; well-dressed, well-limbed, and of ad- 
 
294 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 mirable good humour. They paced about the open 
 space between the prison and the barriers which kept 
 in the crowd from the scaffold. The front line, as 
 far as I could see, was chiefly occupied by black 
 guards and boys professional persons, no doubt, 
 who saluted the policemen on their appearance with 
 a volley of jokes and ribaldry. As far as I could 
 judge from faces, there were more blackguards of 
 sixteen and seventeen, than of any maturer age ; 
 stunted, sallow, ill-grown lads, in rugged fustian, 
 scowling about. There were a considerable number 
 of girls, too, of the same age ; one that Cruikshank 
 and Boz might have taken as a study for Nancy. 
 The girl was a young thief s mistress evidently ; if 
 attacked, ready to reply without a particle of modes 
 ty ; could give as good ribaldry as she got ; made no 
 secret (and there were several inquiries) as to her 
 profession and means of livelihood. But with all 
 this, there was something good about the girl ; a sort 
 of devil-may-care candour and simplicity that one 
 could not fail to see. Her answers to some of the 
 coarse questions put to her, were very ready and 
 good-humoured. She had a friend with her of the 
 same age and class, of whom she seemed to be very 
 fond, and who looked up to her for protection. Both 
 of these women had beautiful eyes. Devil-may-care s 
 were extraordinarily bright and blue, an admirably 
 fair complexion, and a large red mouth full of white 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 295 
 
 teeth. Au reste, ugly, stunted, thick-limbed, and by 
 no means a beauty. Her friend could not be more 
 than fifteen. They were not in rags, but had greasy 
 cotton shawls, and old, faded, rag-shop bonnets. I 
 was curious to look at them, having, in late fashion 
 able novels, read many accounts of such personages. 
 Bah ! what figments these novelists tell us ! Boz, 
 who knows life well, knows that his Miss Nancy is 
 the most unreal fantastical personage possible ; no 
 more like a thief s mistress, than one of G-essner s 
 shepherdesses resembles a real country wench. He 
 dare not tell the truth concerning such young ladies. 
 They have, no doubt, virtues like other human crea 
 tures ; nay, their position engenders virtues that are 
 not called into exercise among other women. But on 
 these an honest painter of human nature has no right 
 to dwell j not being able to paint the whole portrait, 
 he has no right to present one or two favourable 
 points as characterising the whole ; and therefore, 
 in fact, had better leave the picture alone altogether. 
 The new French literature is essentially false and 
 worthless from this very error the writers giving us 
 favourable pictures of monsters (and, to say nothing 
 of decency or morality), pictures quite untrue to 
 nature. 
 
 But yonder, glittering through the crowd in New 
 gate Street see the Sheriffs carriages are slowly 
 making their way. We have been here three hours ! 
 
296 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 Is it possible that they can have passed so soon? 
 Close to the barriers where we are, the mob has be 
 come so dense that it is with difficulty a man can 
 keep his feet. Each man, however, is very careful 
 in protecting the women, and all are full of jokes 
 and good-humour. The windows of the shops op 
 posite are now pretty nearly filled by the persons who 
 hired them. Many young dandies are there with 
 mustachios and cigars ; some quiet, fat, family parties, 
 of simple honest tradesmen and their wives, as we 
 fancy, who are looking on with the greatest imagin 
 able calmness, and sipping their tea. Yonder is the 
 
 sham Lord W , who is flinging various articles 
 
 among the crowd ; one of his companions, a tall burly 
 man, with large mustachios, has provided himself 
 with a squirt, and is aspersing the mob with brandy 
 and water. Honest gentleman ! high-bred aristocrat ! 
 genuine lover of humour and wit ! I would walk some 
 miles to see thee on the tread-mill, thee and thy Mo 
 hawk crew ! 
 
 We tried to get up a hiss against these ruffians, 
 but only had a trifling success ; the crowd did not 
 seem to think their offence very heinous ; and our 
 friend, the philosopher in the ragged elbows, who had 
 remained near us all the time, was not inspired with 
 any such savage disgust at the proceedings of certain 
 notorious young gentlemen, as I must confess fills my 
 own particular bosom. He only said, " So and so is 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 297 
 
 a lord, and they ll let him off," and then discoursed 
 about Lord Ferrers being hanged. The philosopher 
 knew the history pretty well, and so did most of the 
 little knot of persons about him, and it must be a 
 gratifying thing for young gentlemen to find that 
 their actions are made the subject of this kind of 
 conversation. 
 
 Scarcely a word had been said about Courvoisier 
 all this time. We were all, as far as I could judge, in 
 just such a frame of mind as men are in when they are 
 squeezing at the pit-door of a play, or pushing for a 
 review or a lord mayor s show. We asked most of 
 the men who were near us, whether they had seen 
 many executions ? most of them had, the philosopher 
 especially ; whether the sight of them did any good ? 
 " For the matter of that, no ; people did not care 
 about them at all ; nobody ever thought of it after a 
 bit." A countryman, who had left his drove in 
 Srnithfield, said the same thing ; he had seen a man 
 hanged at York, and spoke of the ceremony with 
 perfect good sense, and in a quiet, sagacious way. 
 
 J. S , the famous wit, now dead, had, I recol 
 lect, a good story upon the subject of executing, and 
 of the terror which the punishment inspires. After 
 Thistlewood and his companions were hanged, their 
 heads were taken off, according to the sentence ; and 
 the executioner, as he severed each, held it up to the 
 
 crowd in the proper orthodox way, saying, " Here is 
 13* 
 
298 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 the head of a traitor ! " At the sight of the first 
 ghastly head the people were struck with terror, and 
 a general expression of disgust and fear broke from 
 them. The second head was looked at also with 
 much interest, but the excitement regarding the third 
 head diminished. When the executioner had come 
 to the last of the heads, he lifted it up, but, by some 
 clumsiness, allowed it to drop. At this the crowd 
 yelled out, "Ah, Butter-fingers!" the excitement 
 had passed entirely away. The punishment had 
 grown to be a joke Butter-fingers was the word a 
 pretty commentary, indeed, upon the august nature 
 of public executions, and the awful majesty of the law. 
 It was past seven now ; the quarters rang, and 
 passed away ; the crowd began to grow very eager 
 and more quiet, and we turned back every now and 
 then and looked at St. Sepulchre s clock. Half an 
 hour, twenty-five minutes. What is he doing now ? 
 He has his irons off by this time. A quarter : he s 
 in the press-room now, no doubt. Now at last we 
 had come to think about the man we were going to 
 see hanged. How slowly the clock crept over the 
 last quarter ! Those who were able to turn round 
 and see (for the crowd was now extraordinarily dense), 
 chronicled the time eight minutes, five minutes ; at 
 last ding, dong, dong, dong ! the bell is tolling 
 the chimes of eight* 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 299 
 
 Between the writing of this line and the last, the 
 pen has been put down, as the reader may suppose, 
 and the person who is addressing him gone through 
 a pause of no very pleasant thoughts and recollec 
 tions. The whole of the sickening, ghastly, wicked 
 scene passes before the eyes again ; and, indeed, it is 
 an awful one to see, and very hard and painful to 
 describe. 
 
 As the clock began to strike, an immense sway 
 and movement swept over the whole of that vast 
 dense crowd. They were all uncovered directly, and 
 a great murmur arose, more awful, bizarre, and un- 
 describable than any sound I had ever before heard. 
 Women and children began to shriek horridly. I 
 don t know whether it was the bell I heard ; but a 
 dreadful, quick, feverish kind of jangling noise, 
 mingled with the noise of the people, and lasted for 
 about two minutes. The scaffold stood before us, 
 tenantless and black ; the black chain was hanging 
 down ready from the beam. Nobody came. " He 
 has been respited," some one said; another said, "He 
 has killed himself in prison." 
 
 " Just then, from under the black prison-door, a 
 pale, quiet head peered out. It was shockingly 
 bright and distinct ; it rose up directly, and a man 
 in black appeared on the scaffold, and was silently 
 followed by about four more dark figures. The first 
 was a tall, grave man : we all knew who the second 
 
300 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 man was. " That s he that s he! n you heard the 
 people say, as the devoted man came up. 
 
 I have seen a cast of the head since, but, indeed, 
 should never have known it. Courvoisier bore his 
 punishment like a man, and walked very firmly. He 
 was dressed in a new black suit, as it seemed ; his 
 shirt was open. His arms were tied in front of him. 
 He opened his hands in a helpless kind of way, and 
 clasped them once or twice together. He turned his 
 head here and there, and looked about him for an 
 instant with a wild, imploring look. His mouth was 
 contracted into a sort of pitiful smile. He went and 
 placed himself at once under the beam, with his face 
 towards St. Sepulchre s. The tall, grave man in 
 black twisted him round swiftly in the other direction, 
 and, drawing from his pocket a nightcap, pulled it 
 tight over the patient s head and face. I am not 
 ashamed to say that I could look no more, but shut 
 my eyes as the last dreadful act was going on, which 
 sent this wretched, guilty soul into the presence of 
 God. 
 
 If a public execution is beneficial and beneficial 
 it is, no doubt, or else the wise laws would not en 
 courage forty thousand people to witness it the next 
 useful thing must be a full description of such a cere 
 mony, and all its entourages, and to this end the 
 above pages are offered to the reader. How does an 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 301 
 
 individual man feel under it ? In what way does he 
 observe it, how does he view all the phenomena 
 connected with it, what induces him, in the first 
 instance, to go and see it, and how is he moved by 
 it afterwards ? The writer has discarded the maga 
 zine "We" altogether, and spoken face to face with 
 the reader, recording every one of the impressions 
 felt by him as honestly as he could. 
 
 I must confess, then (for "I" is the shortest word, 
 and the best in this case), that the sight has left on 
 my mind an extraordinary feeling of terror and 
 shame. It seems to me that I have been abetting 
 an act of frightful wickedness and violence, performed 
 by a set of men against one of their fellows ; and 
 I pray God that it may soon be out of the power of 
 any man in England to witness such a hideous and 
 degrading sight. Forty thousand persons (say the 
 sheriffs), of all ranks and degrees, mechanics, gen 
 tlemen, pickpockets, members of both houses of par 
 liament, street- walkers, newspaper-writers, gather 
 together before Newgate at a very early hour ; the 
 most part of them give up their natural quiet night s 
 rest, in order to partake of this hideous debauchery, 
 which is more exciting than sleep, or than wine, or the 
 last new ballet, or any other amusement they can 
 have. Pickpocket and peer each is tickled by the 
 sight alike, and has. that hidden lust after blood which 
 influences our race, government, a Christian govern- 
 
302 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 ment, gives us a feast every now and then : it agrees, 
 that is to say, a majority in the two Houses agrees, 
 that for certain crimes it is necessary that a man 
 should be hanged by the neck. Government commits 
 the criminal s soul to the mercy of God, stating that 
 here on earth he is to look for no mercy ; keeps him 
 for a fortnight to prepare, provides him with a cler 
 gyman to settle his religious matters (if there be 
 time enough, but government can t wait) ; and on a 
 
 Monday morning, the bell tolling, the clergyman 
 reading out the word of God, " I am the resurrection 
 
 * and the life," " The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh 
 away," on a Monday morning, at eight o clock, this 
 man is placed under a beam, with a rope connecting 
 it and him ; a plank disappears from under him, and 
 those who have paid for good places may see the 
 hands of the government agent, Jack Ketch, coming 
 up from his black hole, and seizing the prisoner s 
 legs, and pulling them, until he is quite dead 
 strangled. 
 
 Many persons, and well-informed newspapers, 
 say that it is mawkish sentiment to talk in this way, 
 morbid humanity, cheap philanthropy, that any man 
 can get up and preach about. There is the Observer, 
 for instance, a paper conspicuous for the tremendous 
 sarcasm which distinguishes its articles, and which 
 falls cruelly foul of the Morning Herald. " COUR- 
 VOISIER is dead," says the Observer ; he " died as he 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 303 
 
 had lived a villain ; a lie was in his mouth. Peace 
 be to his ashes. We war not with the dead." What 
 a magnanimous Observer I From this, Observer turns 
 to the Herald, and says, " Fiat justitia mat calum." 
 So much for the Herald. 
 
 We quote from memory, and the quotation from 
 the Observer possibly is, De mdrtuis nil nisi bo- 
 num ; or, Omne ignotum pro magnifico ; or, Sero 
 nunquam est ad bonos mores via; or, Ingenuas 
 didicisse fideliter artes emollit mores ncc sinit esse 
 feros ; all of which pithy Roman apophthegms would 
 apply just as well. 
 
 " Peace be to his ashes. He died a villain." 
 This is both benevolence and reason. Did he die a 
 villain? The Observer does not want to destroy 
 him body and soul, evidently, from that pious wish 
 that his ashes should be at peace. Is the next Mon 
 day but one after the sentence the time necessary for 
 a villain to repent in ? May a man not require more 
 leisure a week more six months more before he 
 has been able to make his repentance sure before 
 Him who died for us all ? for all, be it remembered, 
 not alone for the judge and jury, or for the sheriffs, 
 or for the executioner who is pulling down the legs 
 of the prisoner, but for him too. murderer and crimi 
 nal as he is, whom we are killing for his crime. Do 
 we want to kill him body and soul ? Heaven for 
 bid ! My lord in the black cap specially prays, that 
 
304 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 Heaven may have mercy on him ; but he must be 
 ready by Monday morning. 
 
 Look at the documents which came from the 
 prison of this unhappy COURVOISIER during the few 
 days which passed between his trial and execution. 
 Were ever letters more painful to read? At first, 
 his statements are false, contradictory, lying. He 
 has not repented then. His last declaration seems 
 to be honest, as far as the relation of the crime goes. 
 But read the rest of his statement, the account of 
 his personal history, and the crimes which he com 
 mitted in his young days, then, "how the evil 
 thought came to him to put his hand to the work," 
 it is evidently the writing of a mad, distracted man. 
 The horrid gallows is perpetually before him ; he is 
 wild with dread and remorse. Clergymen are with 
 him ceaselessly ; religious tracts are forced into his 
 hands ; night and day they ply him with the heinous- 
 ness of his crime, and exhortations to repentance. 
 Read through that last paper of his ; by Heaven, it 
 is pitiful to read it. See the Scripture phrases 
 brought in now and anon ; the peculiar terms of 
 tract-phraseology (I do not wish to speak of these 
 often meritorious publications with disrespect) ; one 
 knows too well how such language is learned, imi 
 tated from the priest at the bedside, eagerly seized 
 and appropriated, and confounded by the poor 
 prisoner. 
 
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 305 
 
 But murder is such a monstrous crime (this is the 
 great argument), when a man has killed another, it 
 is natural that he should be killed. Away with your 
 foolish sentimentalists who say no it is natural. 
 That is the word, and a fine philosophical opinion it 
 is philosophical and Christian. Kill a man, and 
 you must be killed in turn ; that is the unavoidable 
 sequitur. You may talk to a man for a year upon 
 the subject, and he will always reply to you, It is 
 natural, and therefore it must be done. Blood de 
 mands blood. 
 
 Does it ? The system of compensations might be 
 carried on ad infmitum, an eye for an eye, a tooth 
 for a tooth, as by the old Mosaic law. But (putting 
 the fact out of the question, that we have had this 
 statute repealed by the Highest Authority), why, be 
 cause you lose your eye, is that of your opponent s to 
 be extracted likewise ? Where is the reason for the 
 practice ? And yet it is just as natural as the death 
 dictum, founded precisely upon the same show of 
 sense. Knowing, however, that revenge is not only 
 evil, but useless, we have given it up on all minor 
 points. Only to the last we stick firm, contrary 
 though it be to reason and to Christian law. 
 
 There is some talk, too, of the terror which the 
 sight of this spectacle inspires, and of this we have 
 endeavoured to give as good a notion as we can in the 
 above pages. I fully confess that I came away down 
 
306 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED. 
 
 Snow Hill that morning with a disgust for murder, but 
 it was for the murder I saw done. As we made our 
 way through the immense crowd, we came upon two 
 little girls of eleven and twelve years : one of them 
 was crying bitterly, and begged, for Heaven s sake, 
 that some one would lead her from that horrid place. 
 This was done, and the children were carried into a 
 place of safety. We asked the elder girl a very 
 pretty one what brought her into such a neighbour 
 hood? The child grinned knowingly, and said, 
 " We ve koom to see the mon hanged ! " Tender 
 law, that brings out babes upon such errands, and 
 provides them with such gratifying moral spec- 
 \tacles ! 
 
 This is the 20th of July, and I may be permitted 
 for my part to declare, that, for the last fourteen 
 days, so salutary has the impression of the butchery 
 been upon me, I have had the man s face continually 
 before my eyes ; that 1 can see Mr. Ketch at this 
 moment, with an easy air, taking the rope from his 
 pocket ; that I feel myself ashamed and degraded at 
 the brutal curiosity which took me to that brutal 
 sight ; and that I pray to Almighty God to cause 
 this disgraceful sin to pass from among us, and to 
 cleanse our land of blood. 
 
 THEEN , 
 
 . 
 
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 Contents of Vol. I. 
 
 AN INVASION" OF FEANCE. 
 
 A CAUTION TO TEAVELLERS. 
 
 THE FETES OF JULY. 
 
 ON THE FRENCH SCHOOL OF PAINTING. 
 
 THE PAINTER S BARGAIN. 
 
 CARTOUCHE. 
 
 ON SOME FRENCH FASHIONABLE NOVELS. 
 
 A GAMBLER S DEATH. 
 
 NAPOLEON AND HIS SYSTEM. 
 THE STORY OF MARY ANCEL. 
 BEATRICE MERGER. 
 
 Contents of Fol. 3EE. 
 
 CARICATURES AND LITHOGRAPHY IN PARIS. 
 
 LITTLE POINSINET. 
 
 THE DEVIL S WAGER. 
 
 MADAME SAND AND THE NEW APOCALYPSE. 
 
 THE CASE OF PEYTEL. 
 
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 RECOLLECTIONS OF A JOURNEY THROUGH 
 
 TARTARY, THIBET, AND CHINA, DURING 
 
 THE YEARS 1844, 1845, AND 1846. 
 
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MENTS. 
 
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 THE MAIDEN AND MARRIED LIFE OF 
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 AFTERWARDS MISTRESS MILTON. 
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 "A reproduction "in their manners as they lived" of John Milton and 
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