Lift
HHI
BENTLEY'S
MISCELLANY.
VOL. XIX
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1846.
LONDON t
PRINTED BY S. AND J. BENTLEV, WILSON, AND FLEY,
Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
CONTENTS.
Brian O'Linn ; or, Luck is Everything, by the Author of " Wild PAGE
Sports of the West," . . 1, 105, 213, 333, 429, 541
There was a time in Infancy, . . . . . .23
Early Years of a Veteran of the Army of Westphalia between 1805
and 1814, ........ 24
Loiterings along Love-Passages, by Everard Clive, . . 32
Gaming, Gaming-houses, and Gamesters, , . 44, 127, 276, 397
The Retreat to Corunna Anecdotes of the Peninsular War, edited by
Henry Curling, . . . . . .52
Monkish Ballads. The Jolly Miller, and Jack and Jill, . .57
The Avenger's Witness against Murder. Sleepless because Criminal.
Retirement ; The Gaol Chaplain ; or, a Dark Page from
Life's Volume, .......
My Mother, ........
Outpourings, by D. Canter,
Quacks and Quackery by a Physician,
The Picture, ....
The Broken Sword, .
The Reflections of a Pier-glass, .
The Cavalier's Hat, .
A real Country Ghost Story,
Mr. Tonks and his great Christmas Failure,
The Gent. Popular Zoology, No. I.
An Appendix of Gents The Ballet Girl,
The Country Medical Man, .
The Boys in the Street,
Memoir of Alfred Crowquill,
The Duke and his Portraits, Fine Arts
My Child's Grave, ....
I drink, my friend, to you,
The Guinea Trade, by Robert Postans,
The Wassail Bowl, ....
The Two Bouquets, by Arthur Dudley,
Reminiscences of Grimaldi, . .
The Love-Token, ....
Old Times and New,
The Marquess Wellesley, K.G.
The Travelled Man, by Mrs. Gore,
The Occultation of Orion, by H. W. Longfellow,
Tipperary Hall, .....
Lines to an absent Brother, .
New Pictorial Publications, ....
Father Time and his Children, by Miss M. T. E. Knox,
A Month at Madrid, by N. A. Wells, .
The Beauties of Colonos,
. by Albert Smith,
58
... 68
69, 180, 257, 376
78
. 87
282
by Alfred Crowquill, . 391
. 484
93
. 162
316
404
512
. * . 574
99
. 103
104
. 117
118
. 126
134
. 160
161
. 169
170
. 172
179
186, 297, 413, 520, 626
203
204
211
235
242
i v CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Cornet's First Deal,
Chesterfield and his Times, . ' ' ) '
The Seat of War-The Sikhs and the Punjab, (, Dr w c Tay i or ,
The Philosophy of David Hume, . . i
The Albigenses and the Troubadours,
The last Days of Riego, by Mrs. Romer, j
The Minstrel,
Curiosities of Costume, by Henry Curling,
Reminiscences of Lady Cork,
First and last Parting, . , * f* 3
Flora Macdonald, the Heroine of the Rebellion of 1745, by Charles
Whitehead, ... 325
A Legend of Dunmow, by George Raymond,
Nothing at all ! . .
Forget me not ! . . .
The Mermaid, -) 377
The Apprenticeship of Raphael Sanzo, of I by Lady Duff Gordon,
Urbino, . . . J . .471
The City of Lahore, 1 b Migs Cogtell
Legendary Cities, Lewes, J ... 582
Parting and Meeting, by C H. Hilebings, . . . 454
HansBrenzel, the Smuggler, by W.H.G. Kingston, . . 455
Tea-table Talk, by Mrs. Mathews, 464
The Yard of Clay, by C. Linnaeus Banks, .
Vinum Romanum, by C. De la Pryme, . . . 493
Payment in Kind, . 1, p , Prpnr i pr0 . asi . ... 503
A Treatise of the Pump, / by Faul Fren(ler S ast ; . . .610
Biographical Sketch of Listen, the Comedian, '-. * . . 509
New South Wales, . . . . .-'. . . 519
Jeff Linton's Oak, or May-Day, by F. P. Palmer, . . .556
Tattersall and TattersalPs, with a glance at the Lions and Legs of the
Betting-Ring, . . . <'j .' . 564
My Schoolmaster, ... . . . 59<i
Romancing by a Fibb, . . . . ^ . . 597
Sonnet While yet I gaze, ..... . 602
Danger of Debating Societies, by his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin, 615
Washington Irving, , ... 622
Mackinnon on Civilisation 623
ILLUSTRATIONS.
The Duel, ........ i
Portrait of Alfred Crowquill, . . . . . 37
The Rescue, ........ 105
Portrait of Grimaldi, . . . . . . .160
Fa9ade of San Gregorio, Valladolid, ..... 204
The little old Gentleman makes himself at home, . . . 213
Portrait of Lady Cork, ...... 293
Portrait of Flora Macdonald, . . . 325
The little Mermaid visits the old Witch of the Sea, . . .377
Captain Dangerfield in trouble, .... 439
Portrait of Liston, the Comedian, .... 509
The Interruption, ...... 541
Portrait of Washington Irving, . . g23
BENTLEY'S MISCELLANY.
BRIAN O'LINN ;
OR, LUCK IS EVERYTHING.
BY THE AUTHOR OP "WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST."
WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY JOHN LEECH.
CHAPTER III.
Innisturk. Boyhood of Brian O'Linn. Misther Toole changes his profession.
HE who has been resident in the southern and western provinces of
the Green Isle, will have remarked with what fluency an Irish peasant
conveys his thoughts, how artfully he will extenuate his offendings,
how forcibly detail the story of his wrongs. The Celtic language
offers a breadth of figurative expression favourable to the raconteur :
and whether Pat's oratory be designed "to take himself out of trou-
ble," or take a young lady into it, he manages both with a tact and fa-
cility which rarely fail to prove successful.
For a time, the rejected recruit seemed diffident of narrating his
earlier history to strangers like the worthy sergeant and myself. Men
hesitate in admitting that their own is a lowly or a doubtful parentage ;
and the confession of being destitute, friendless, a thing upon the
earth in whom no other takes an interest, these are humiliating dis-
closures. In a few minutes, however, I read the young man's charac-
ter correctly. Nursed in the cradle of misery, flung loosely on the
world, to sink or float as chance foredoomed; still in that poor lad's
breast and even to himself unknown, a proud spirit was latent one
which circumstances occasionally called into action, and the worst visit-
ations of evil fortune could not extinguish. As he proceeded, the
sympathy his listeners evinced appeared to gratify him, confidence
gradually returned, his buoyant temperament rose paramount, and
modestly, but fearlessly, he told the story of an opening life, in which
misery and romance were singularly blended.
The western coast of Ireland is generally remarkable for the bold
and rocky front it presents to the Atlantic ; and, as, if to protect itself
from ocean aggression, a cordon of black and beetling cliffs forbid en-
croachment from an element it seems to dread. To follow out a mili-
tary metaphor, here and there, dark and barren islands rise above the
water, and look as if advanced into ocean to sentinel the land. These
isolated spots of rock and earth, even under the smiling influence of
summer suns, offer to the mariner who passes by, a perfect picture of
sterility and desolation. When the surface of the sea is unrippled by
a breeze, an eternal swell breaks everywhere around them, and ren-
ders ingress or egress almost impossible ; but, when the Atlantic rises
in its rage, when its mountain billows, after rolling over thousands
of miles of water unchecked and unopposed, there meet their first
obstruction, and burst in thunder upon the gloomy cliffs which ap-
pear to court a contest, and defy their fury, as a spectacle of savage
grandeur, nothing to surpass it can be fancied.
Three leagues from the nearest mainland, one of those isolated spots
shews itself; and, judging from the bleak and rugged outline of dark
stone that meets the eye, the voyager would conclude that all within
was barren. That anything human should make that lonely isle his
VOL. XIX. B
2 BRIAN O'LINN.
abiding-place appears miraculous ,- but for ages generation have suc-
ceeded* generation, and its population there have seen the light, and
there have found a grave. To the isleman of Innisturk, his native
rock seems lovely ; and you might as well induce the Highlander to
leave the strath in which his infancy was passed, as persuade one of
those dwellers upon ocean, to abandon the rock-bound speck of earth on
which they are resident, or rather imprisoned, for a considerable por-
tion of the year.
At the period at which this s,tory opens, Inhisturk was inhabited
by some twenty families. One headsman rented the island, for which
he paid a fixed sum annually ; and the remainder of its population held
their wretched tenures under this personage, whose word upon this
lonely rock was law. Irregularly scattered over the sterile surface, a
few patches of shallow earth were cultivated, and afforded the islanders
corn and potatoes in but scanty quantities. Their chief dependence
was the ocean : fish was to be had in great abundance whenever they
could launch a boat; drift-wood afforded fuel; many a waif was
picked up floating on the sea ; and once or twice within the year the
hearts of all were gladdened by a wreck. But from another source the
luxuries of life were sometimes liberally supplied. The island was
frequently visited by smugglers from France and Holland ; and when
they failed in debarking their contraband cargoes upon the mainland,
on these wild islands they were generally more successful ; and there
the interdicted articles remained in safe concealment, until opportunity
permitted their being transmitted to their original destination. The
islanders were faithful to the trust reposed, the smugglers generous in
return, and thus a mutual interest bound each party to the other ;
and fifty years ago, when, " few and far between," some desperate tra-
veller ventured into Innisturk, although an egg or an ounce of mutton
were not obtainable for love or money, he might have drunk himself
rich in every cabin he pleased to enter with cognac or schiedam,
smoked the soothing weed by the half-bale, or, were he given unhap-
Sily to '* thin potations," enjoyed white sugar and souchong; the only
ifficulty being where to find a teapot.
It was late on an evening in October, when the island we have just
described was startled by the report of a gun, and the exhibition of a
bluelight. In a moment, like bees disturbed, the occupants of every
cabin hurried to the only harbour by which a landing on Innisturk can
be accomplished. A narrow chasm in the precipices which shut the
island in, trends inwards for a hundred yards, and terminates in a
sandy cove, to which the lofty rocks that wall its sides form a secure
breakwater. As this opening looks eastward, and the prevailing winds
are westerly, the harbour is generally open to fishing-boats; and, on
the evening in question, the winds were light, the water smooth, and no
difficulty was found m pulling off to a large lugger, which was seen in
the haze of night, standing off and on a few miles distant from the shore.
If the islanders expected that their rock was to be made the depository
g Suffered a
*i u T g ^ Suere a g^ous disappointment, for
that had been already discharged, and the lugger had visited the island
for a different purpose The headsman was taken into his cabin by
the schipper; and after a brief interview a boat was despatched in
haste for a priest who fortunately happened to be officiallyemployed
m Innisturk and whose instant services were required to shrive some-
body on board the lugger, who was reported in articulo mortis "
BRIAN LINN. 3
The call was promptly obeyed, and the churchman introduced to the
cabin, and left alone with a stranger, who was at that moment about
to exchange time for eternity ; for ere half an hour had elapsed, the
priest announced that the spirit had departed. The schipper and the
headsman again retired to the cabin, where they remained closeted
for another hour with the churchman. At the termination of the se-
cret interview, the body of a female, carefully wrapped up, was depo-
sited in the headsman's boat, and a fine child six months old placed
in the priest's arms, while a parting injunction was given by the schip-
per, that the corpse should be decently interred, and the infant care-
fully attended to. Something private passed in a whisper, the heads-
man pushed off with his dead and living freight, the lugger filled her
sails, the haze of night soon shut the smuggler and the boat from
each other's view, and, with a far different cargo than they had ex-
pected to bring back, the islanders returned to their lonely rock.
The schipper's orders were faithfully executed. The child was con-
signed to the care of a fisher's wife, who had recently lost her own in-
fant ; and the body of the female, who was supposed to be the orphan's
mother, was laid out with every form used at a peasant's wake. In ar-
ranging the corpse, before it was committed to its last resting-place, the
women who performed the funeral offices, remarked the peculiar fine-
ness of the stranger's linen. On the bridal finger was a plain gold
ring; and from these circumstances, the smoothness of the skin, and
the delicacy of the features, the islanders concluded that the deceased
belonged to a superior grade of society ; but all about her was doubtful,
and mere conjecture.
The unknown female was- interred in the island cemetery ; and for-
tune seemed determined to shroud the deserted orphan in an impene-
trable mystery. Of his lineage and name the schipper might have
been informed, or, more probably, the priest in confession had been en-
trusted with the secret. If such were the case, it perished with the
twain. A few weeks after this singular occurrence, the holy man died
of a malignant fever; and soon after, intelligence reached the island
that the lugger had been run down in a fog off the coast of Holland,
and every soul on board had found a watery grave.
' Never was an orphan," continued the rejected recruit, " more
hardily brought up, or more wildly educated. When able to run about,
I was removed from the fisher's hut to the headsman's cabin ; and it is
but justice to my protector to say, that whether he had received any
consideration from the drowned mariner for my future maintenance, or
that humanity alone induced him to support a friendless child, I was
kindly taken care of. I throve apace. The islanders are short of
stature ; and at twelve years old I was taller than my foster-brothers
by the head. I rowed, swam, climbed rocks, fished, sailed a boat, bet-
ter than any boy of my own age in Innisturk. In these accomplish-
ments my education was comprised. 1 knew not a letter of the alpha-
bet and had scarcely seen a printed book, save the priest's breviary,
when that important personage made an occasional visit to the island
to shrive, marry, and baptize, and in return, carry to the mainland, in
place of dues, a boat-load of dried fish and knitted hosiery.
" My twelfth year was the important epoch of this humble life.
You asked my name, sir, and seemed surprised at my being unable to
answer that simple question. My ignorance on this common-place
matter for even the beggar has a name is, however, easily explained.
B 2
4 BRIAN OLINN.
Irish superstition requires that a child shall be christened as soon after
birth as possible, and no time was lost in having that rite conferred on
me ; but, of course, a difficulty arose as to what name I should be
called by. The priest was puzzled ; but, after a short consideration,
that of my protector was selected, and I was called Brian. As there
were several of that name in the island, and I had no sirname to distin-
guish me from the rest, they named me after a gentleman immortalized
in Irish song, and I obtained the sobriquet of O'Linn.
" For several years smuggling on the western coast rapidly decreased,
the government seemed determined to suppress it, and vessels of su-
perior sailing powers were substituted for the useless revenue cruisers, at
whose abortive efforts to interrupt their demoralizing trade, the contra-
band adventurers of France and Holland had merely laughed. But
things were altered now ; the old cutters and their antiquated com-
manders were discarded, and their place supplied with the fastest small
craft in the navy, under active officers, whose vigilance was unsleeping.
" At sunset, and so distant that only her square-headed gaff-topsail
could be seen from the look-out point of Innisturk, a vessel was disco-
vered. The direction in which the stranger had appeared, was that
in which smugglers were generally first detected by the islanders ; but
the winds were light, evening closed, the ocean-mist hid her from view,
and all was mere conjecture. Next morning, everybody in Innisturk
was astir before daybreak. The dense fog, which frequently in au-
tumn harbingers a warm day, shrouded the sea, and none could pene-
trate the haze beyond a cable's length. Suddenly the booming of a
distant gun was heard. It was the long-expected Jane, and all were
rushing to the cove to launch their boats, and answer the smuggler's
well-known signal, when another and another sharp report of shotted
cannon broke through the thick sea-mist, and ended all uncertainty.
The smuggler, doubtless, was on the coast and just as certainly she
had been discovered by some King's ship, which now was chasing her.
Three or four guns, discharged in quick succession, confirmed the fact.
A summer-fog at times disperses rapidly, and, like the smoke-wreaths
which curtain artillery for a brief space, before they evaporate in upper
air, the haze rolled away, and, far as the power of human sight could
range, the ocean was unfolded. A league to the south-west an im-
mense cutter was discovered standing out to sea, and, scarcely beyond
reach of her battery, a man-of-war brig of the largest size was seen
astern in chase. The wind was light but steady, and both vessels
under a press of canvass. In a few minutes the sailing qualities of
the pursued and the pursuer could be correctly ascertained: when
the breeze freshened, the King's ship gained slightly on the chase ;
when it fell, in turn the smuggler crept away.
" As the cutter was obliged to keep three points off the wind to
clear the island, the course she steered was most favourable to the
brig ; but, once the outer reef was passed, there was no doubt that she
would haul up close, a point of sailing on which she was immeasurably
superior to her square-rigged follower. To round the reef was conse-
quently the smuggler's object, and to secure her before she could effect
it, was the determination of the man-of-war. The breeze became
lighter, the cutter crept away, and in half an hour it was quite evident
she would weather the gull-rock reef, and then be enabled to haul upon
the wind, and choose her favourite point of sailing. That once accom-
plished, enough was known of the sea-going qualities of the Jane to
BRIAN O'LINN. 5
convince those who pursued, and those who witnessed the chase, that
the smuggler's escape would be a certainty.
" That this was also the opinion of the captain of the cruiser was
speedily evinced. A bustle was visible on board the brig, and in less
than five minutes three boats were over the vessel's side, and, stoutly
manned, they pulled off in pursuit of the receding smuggler. Al-
though the scanty wind had permitted the cutter to increase her dis-
tance from the King's ship, the boats gained fast ; ten minutes would
bring them alongside ; and the question mooted by the islanders was,
whether the Jane would strike or fight ? That she would desperately
resist was the prevailing opinion. All knew that she was well armed,
manned by eighty daring adventurers, and commanded by an outlaw; and
five brief minutes proved that the islanders had come to a true conclusion.
" Keeping a correct alignment, the boats pulled steadily and rapidly
towards the devoted smuggler. Distance momentarily decreased, and
they were now within musket-range of the cutter. Aware that a con-
flict or caption was unavoidable, the rover's course of action was quickly
decided. The helm was suddenly put hard a-port, and the cutter's
broadside presented to those who were about to become assailants.
" Nor was this demonstration an idle threat, flash succeeded flash,
and eight guns were discharged in quick succession. The round-shot
fell so closely to the objects at which they had been directed, that one
broke the oar-blades of the launch, and several struck the water, and
flung the spray over the advancing assailants. The thunder of the
smuggler's cannon was answered by the cheering of the boats' crews.
A desperate struggle must in a few minutes follow, the adventurers
had crossed the Rubicon, and placed themselves without the pale of
law, while the bull-dog determination of the pursuers was evidenced
by the vigorous exertions they made to close with their resisting enemy.
The cutter's broadside was answered by the musketry of the marines
and a carronade mounted in the launch, while the smugglers kept up
a spattering discharge of small-arms. Presently her guns were re-
loaded, and run out for the second time through the ports. Scarcely a
cable's-length separated the combatants, and in a few minutes the con-
test must be decided on the rover's deck.
" The carronades were coolly trained upon the men-of-war's people,
and the word to fire was about to pass the captain's lips ; but, ere a
match was laid upon a touch-hole, a sudden puff came off the land,
filled the cutter's sails, and she forged rapidly ahead, while, though
surprised and mortified, the brig's boats strained every effort to keep
the advantage they had gained. Fortune, however, had taken part
with the adventurers. That capful of wind did not end, as it com-
monly does, in a dead calm, but preluded a stiff and steady breeze. In
ten minutes the cutter had rounded the sea-gull rock, obtained her
favourite point of sailing, heeled gracefully to the wind, and soon left
her pursuers miles astern. The brig picked up her boats and when
the breeze at last had reached her, she continued in chase of an anta-
gonist, with whom it was quite evident she had not now the slightest
chance of closing. At sunset the man-of-war was only hull-down,
while the smuggler was completely out of sight.
" The joy exhibited by the islanders at the escape of their old ac-
quaintance, the Jane, was greatly alloyed at the loss of the advantages
which they hud promised themselves from the visit of the contraband
trader. It was generally supposed that the narrow escape he had un-
6 BRIAN O'LINN.
dergone that morning would alarm Captain Matthews, and induce him
to abandon all hope of landing his cargo on a coast already alarmed by
his appearance. But this conjecture was erroneous for in a character
like the outlawed adventurer, danger always seems to increase determi-
nation. When night shut out the brig, the cutter changed her course,
and stood in directly for the land ; and, when morning dawned, there
lay the smuggler still nearer to Innisturk, than she had been the day be-
fore, when the cruiser surprised her in the fog and chased her out to sea.
" When boarded by the island boats, it was ascertained that in her
skirmish with the brig, she had several men slightly wounded, and one
had been shot dead. He was not on the muster-roll of the cutter, or
connected with the contraband adventurers in any way, but had merely
taken a passage from Flushing, and paid most liberally for the same.
From air and language, the smugglers set him down to be a soldier
and, when the corpse was examined, several old wounds were discover-
ed upon the stranger's person, and told that this conclusion was cor-
rect. The cutter's crew described him as proud and taciturn, and one
who repressed every attempt which had been made during the run
from Holland, to ascertain his name, or the nature of the business
which brought him to the coast of Ireland. On one subject he spoke
with an indifference, which it was strongly suspected was assumed and
though his inquiries were artfully conducted, it was generally believed
that one particular object was the end of his voyage to the west. A
lady who had died at sea a child who had been landed somewhere on
the Irish coast were constantly, but indirectly, made a subject of in-
quiry and conversation. He professed great curiosity to ascertain under
what circumstances the female had met her fate, and to whom the or-
phan had been confided. The transaction, it seemed, had occurred
twelve years before ; it was still wrapped in mystery ; and from those
whose lawless traffic had then brought them to the coast, he fancied
that he was most likely to obtain the information he so anxiously re-
quired. Had anything been wanting to confirm the opinion that his had
been a military calling, the carelessness he exhibited when under the
fire of the brig's boats told that death and he were no strangers to each
other. On examining his person and portmanteau, no document or paper
could be discovered. His linen was that of a man of superior rank his
garments the clothing of a private gentleman. A purse containing fifty
or sixty guineas and napoleons, with two foreign orders, were hidden in
his trunk and one solitary paper was found, but without signature
or address, telling him that the different credits he required in England
and Ireland, had been regularly arranged.
" The corpse lay upon the deck shrouded by a horseman's cloak,
which concealed alike the features and the figure of the departed, and
I know not what the secret impulse was which urged me to remove the
covering. I did so. No parting agony had convulsed the stranger's
form; his dark eyes were open; the lips were disclosed, and he
smiled, or seemed to smile upon me. The hair was slightly grizzled ;
but toil or climate, not age, had changed that sable hue
w Which once to shame might bring
The darkness of the raven's wing.'
" The dead man's person next underwent a hasty scrutiny it was
the finest in mould and height I ever yet had gazed upon. Strange as
it may appear, a feeling filled my breast that in the breathless clay
which lay before me, I looked on all that was mortal of my father"!
BRIAN O'LINN 7
Mine was not a solitary delusion, if the belief were such. But I must
not anticipate what afterwards occurred.
" In six hours the cargo of the Jane was transhipped into a number
of country fishing-smacks which had promptly answered her returning
signal, and the cutter occupied the remainder of the evening in trim-
ming her ballast, filling her water-casks, and preparing for sea. Busily
as these bold adventurers were engaged, it was determined that the un-
known should be interred in holy ground ; and, wrapped in his mili-
tary cloak, the dead soldier's corpse was landed, and placed with silent
respect beside my mother's grave. Matthews, in person, attended the
simple obsequies ; and when the corpse was committed to its kindred
clay, he returned to my protector's house, and spent an hour in secret
converse with the headsman. What the subject of their conversation
was, I can only infer from that which followed.
" { You are wanted, Brian, in the room,' said my foster-sister, and in
obedience to the order, I entered the chamber in which the captain of
the Jane and the potentate of Innisturk were seated. Brian Toole's
house was the admiration of the island, and yet elsewhere its preten-
sions would have been considered very humble. It contained but three
apartments the centre was the kitchen the lower chamber being te-
nanted by the males of the establishment, while the upper was the
room of state. There, Brian and the female portion of the community
slept, there, the honoured guest was feasted and, without even the
imagination of aught indelicate, if he remained for the night there
his couch was spread, and that too, with half-a-dozen of the fairer sex
immediately beside him.
" When I entered this honoured apartment, both the outlaw arid the
headsman regarded me attentively.
" ' By Heaven ! Toole, the likeness, as you observed, is marvellous,'
exclaimed the smuggler.
" The headsman nodded an assent.
" ' Poor boy ! how inveterately that cross-grained harridan, dame
Fortune, seems determined to persecute thee ! Come, cheer up, I
believe that some sixty guineas, at present in my possession, are right-
fully yours. I'll venture them for thy benefit next trip. If we have
luck, the profits shall be yours; if we fail, why, there's a trifle
at Flushing laid aside to meet a rainy day, and, d n me, we'll try
thy fortune a second time/
ft We accompanied the warm-hearted adventurer to the Cove, and
rowed him to his splendid cutter ; all was ready for a start, and, after a
most successful landing, the Jane returned to Flushing, loaded a fresh
cargo, and again, with a daring consort, sailed for the scene of her past
successes. Matthews called himself the pet of fortune >no man had
better right to arrogate that title but fortune may be pressed too far.
" On the 22nd of September, 1821, both vessels, after a splendid run,
made Achil Head, and at noon they were seen distinctly in the offing
by hundreds collected on the high lands to disembark their cargoes.
The breeze freshened to a gale the gale became a storm the sea rose
awfully and at six o'clock the hurricane was at its height. No living
man could call to memory anything to rank 'its parallel.' Ruin
marked its ravages on land ; and on sea it was even more destructive.
Among the endless calamities it caused, the loss of the Jane was in-
cluded she foundered in sight of her consort, and not a soul was
saved.
8 BRIAN O'LINN.
When the melancholy intelligence of the cutter's loss was carried
to the island, great was the general grief. In the simple estimation of
the islesmen, Matthews was the greatest man on earth ; and with a
most every individual of the luckless crew, the inhabitants were per-
sonally acquainted. I became the object of universal sympathy ; my
fortune they knew had been adventured in the foundered vessel j and
with me, beggary was entailed on orphanage.
" ' God pity him, poor child !' I overheard an old man whisper, as I
passed him.
" There is a God above us still/ returned the young girl he had ad-
dressed. * Who can tell what luck is in store for you yet, Brian
avourneeine?'
" As for me, I repaired to the ruined abbey, as was my custom, sat
down beside my parents' graves, and cried myself to sleep.
"A month had scarcely passed, and the loss of the unfortunate Jane
still formed the all-engrossing subject of island conversation. The day
throughout had been squally, and with evening the weather shewed no
sign of improvement. Before dusk a large hooker approached the
landing-place, and made a signal for a boat, which was immediately
answered by the launching of the best upon the island. On nearing
the sailing-vessel, two gentlemen were seen on deck and when the
boat got alongside, they expressed a wish to land, and inquired
whether, as the weather was threatening, they could find on shore ac-
commodation for the night ? The headsman intimated that his house
was heartily at their service and, having ordered some wine and fresh
provisions to be transferred from the hooker to the boat, they stepped
on board, and were speedily pulled into the rock-bound harbour of In-
nisturk.
The appearance of the strangers was altogether different from any I
had seen before. The elder, a noble-looking personage, was bordering
upon his sixtieth year, while the younger, his son, was scarcely fifteen ;
and, from the air and manners of both, it was quite evident to the sim-
plest islander, that they were of a class who rarely debarked upon this
rocky speck in ocean. Brian's grand chamber was instantly placed at
their disposal ; and, with the assistance of their own attendant, and
the supplies judiciously brought with them from the hooker, a com-
fortable evening meal was promptly prepared and served. After sup-
per, the host was summoned to their presence; and his respect was not
abated when the elder gentleman announced himself by name, and
mentioned that he was proceeding down the coast to view, for the first
time, a large estate, of which he had recently become the purchaser.
" It appeared that I had been noticed by both the strangers, and a
question put to the headsman as to whether I were his son, elicited
from my kind protector a brief memoir of myself, which seemed to in-
terest the listeners. With the good taste so frequently noticed in the
conduct of even the lowest of the Irish peasantry, Brian Toole did
not intrude upon his guests too lung and, when left to themselves, my
singular fortunes were discussed by both.
" ' 'Tis a strange world, after all, my son,' observed the elder gentle-
man, ' and there is a living romance connected with the stcry of this
deserted boy which gives it an unaccountable interest. Let us have
him in. Come, thou art the younger call that poor lad, and our
rough and honest host.'
" W T e were speedily in the stranger's presence. His questions were
BRIAN O'LINN. 9
addressed to me ; and their answers conveyed no more intelligence than
that which he had already obtained from my protector. After a short
conversation he signed to me that I should withdraw. I rose, and
obeyed the order, quitted the cabin, and proceeded to the ruined ab-
bey, where, as I believed, the bones of both my parents were re-
posing.
" It was a wild and blustry night. The moon was at the full ;
but from the rapid carry of the clouds the light she threw was partial,
sometimes she poured her glorious flood upon cliff and ocean, until
all within leagues were visible as f at noontide prime/ then
'Came racking o'er her face a cloud,'
which shut all around in twilight. I knelt beside the double grave ;
I kissed the grass that covered it ; then, with a simple prayer for their
souls' repose, I hurried back to the cabin of Brian Toole, and, as it
turned out, for the last time. While at the abbey my fate had been
lecided, and the lonely island where my infancy was passed was now
to be deserted.
" Brian Toole, surrounded by all his household, was sitting before a
sparkling fire of driftwood. The visitors were gone to rest, and my
return had been anxiously expected. Some grand event had evident-
ly occurred the headsman looked unusually important; and the
company appeared to wait the result of something about to be dis-
closed with more than common interest.
" ' Brian, jewel !' said the lord of the isle, as he shook the ashes from
his dudheeine, ' the Lord glory be to the same !' and here the woman-
kind devoutly crossed themselves, ' has taken it into his head to stand
your friend in trouble. Had the Jane Holy Mary, look down in
compassion on them that perished ! had she made her run, and broken
bulk with common luck, ye would have been made up for life. It 's
wonderful, Brian a-vick ! when Fortune frowns her worst upon ye,
how soon she looks bright again. Had Captain Matthews not met
with an accident, and been drowned one blessed evening, you would
have been well-provided for. Why, Tummas-a-neilan,* a cousin of
my mother, commanded the Crazy Jane, and Sharvn-a-brantre^ after
he made his fortune, married a lady with a grand estate, and lived and
died a justice of the peace. I always doubted that part of the story ;
for John couldn't tell a B from a bull's horn ; but, no matter about
that. I have an uncommon dale to say to ye if I only knew how to
begin it. Brian, give me a grip of yer fist ? The Lord sees I have
regarded ye as my own ; and now that I 'm about to lose ye, I never
thought I cared half as much for ye as I do/
" The honest-hearted islander applied the cuff of his coat to wipe a
tear away ; and the fairer portion of creation, who formed the remain-
der of the audience, began to sob.
" ' Badakusi /' exclaimed the headsman. ' Do ye want to waken the
gentleman? Bad fortune attend yes! Listen, and let me discourse
him quietly. Their honours, Brian, jewel ! have taken a fancy to ye ;
and God sees that, though I can badly spare ye, I have agreed to let
ye go on trial, for why should I stand between yerself and fortune ?
Here, avourneeine / sorrow 's dry ; arid ye had better wet yer whistle/
" I put the glass of hollands to my lips ; returned it to my island
patron, who turned the contents down, and thus continued :
* Tom of the Island. f John, the widow's son.
10 BRIAN O'LINN.
"'Brian, darling ! it's little they guess in Innisturk what the wide
world is about. I have had laming and exparience, for ye know I was
intended for the altar ; but, my curse upon ye, Tony Gallagher ! it 's
yerself that was my desolation ! Ye see, I had commenced my huniani-
ties at Maynooth, and came home in the vacation to see my friends,
when what the divil does Tony do, but coaxes me to take a run in the
Fly-by-night to Flushing. ' Arrah !' says Tony, the arch dacaver
that he proved ! ' divil blister the one will ever know ye smuggled
a half-bale; and when ye'r regularly ordained, ye can give yerself
absolution. May the Lord pity me ! I listened to the villain. There
lay the sweetest craft that ever dipped a lug; and, mono, sin diaoul!
I unfortunately consented.
" ' Well, away we went. My mother gave me her blessing, and full
directions to bring her back a cotton-gown ; and my father told me
when I was in for a drink, never to sit with my back to the fire on
any account ; and if I came to harm, it wasn't, ye see, for good advice ;
but Tony Gallagher and trouble always went hand in hand.
" f The Fly-by-night was only in ballast trim ; and, as it was war-
time, the Channel was filled with cruisers. My heavy curse attend
the sa.me!' and here the headsman turned down another flash of
lightning. f This day, we were chased by a frigate ; and the next, we
were hunted by a brig ; one evening, a cutter tried our rate of sailing ;
and on another, a schooner obliged us with her company. Egad ! we
had the heels of the whole ; and ye might as well have followed a gull
upon the wing, as spread canvas in pursuit of the Fly-by-night.
" * Well, Brian, astore ! we ran through the blockading fleet off
Flushing in the night, and all but scraped sides with the admiral ;
and in eight-and-forty hours we were chok-full of schnaps and to-
bacco. At the ' Tros Broders' we had a jolly evening ; and left the
Scheldt at midnight. It's an ugly navigation, and requires a man to
know the banks well, before he dares venture to grope his way out ;
but Tony Lord pardon him, the sinner ! could find green water as
easy as he could the schnap-shop.
" ' We were clear of the English fleet at gun-fire ; and when the
day fully dawned, a look-out frigate and two sloops amused their crews
with an hour's exercise ; but, Lord ! we left them as if they were tow-
ing their anchors after them. Tony Gallagher was delighted to find
that his lugger was so beautifully trimmed. ' Brian,' says he, as we
spliced the main-brace in the cabin, after the frigate and sloops-of-war
bore up to regain the fleet, ' I think if every stick ould George has
got was after us, we would give them the go-by between this and In-
nisturk.' I agreed with him in opinion ; but, upon my conscience,
Brian, jewel ! before the next sunset I had a good right to change
the same.'
"This was a melancholy reminiscence; and before Mister Toole
proceeded, he fortified himself for the task by discussing another
thimbleful of hollands.
" ' We had cleared the sands, got safely through the men-of war who
in every shape and size were swarming on the coast of Holland, and at
sunrise found ourselves fairly in blue water. The weather was rather
thick, and the people were at breakfast, when suddenly the man at the
mast-head shouted that there was a sail direct a-beam. The schipper
seized his bring-him-near, and at a glance pronounced the stranger a
whacking frigate, -not very pleasant news, for she was well to wind-
11
ward. The mist cleared; the stranger had kept a bright look-out;
for before the glass was from Tony Gallagher's eye, he was making sail
in chase, and crowding every inch of canvas he could spread from deck
to truck. You may suppose that we were not idle in the lugger : fresh
muslin was crowded on the Fly-by-night, and away we went together,
with a mutual agreement that * the devil should take the hindmost/
" ' There was little fear but that we should have given the frigate
leg-bail for our appearance, although she was beautifully handled, and
every means to take the sailing out of her were tried. Tony had
spliced the main-brace for the third time ; and, while calculating the
day we should likely make Achil Head, a boy aloft sung out that there
was a sail a-head ; and, as if we were not already enough in trouble, an-
other bellowed that there was a brig on our lee-quarter, under a press
of sail, and barely three miles off. I wished myself safe in Maynooth,
and hard at my humanities again ; but, upon my sowl, my education
was to be completed under a different professor for Captain Clewline
succeeded Doctor Dionisius O'Dogherty.
" ' To do Tony Gallagher justice, he sailed the Fly-by-night to fortune.
But what could a man do, hampered as he was on every side ? The
frigate on our weather-quarter, a channel- groper a mile to leeward,
and a clipping cutter right in the wind's eye. With us it seeemed a
sort of choice between the devil and the deep sea still we cracked
on the lugger, hoping, but not expecting, that some freak of fortune
would work our deliverance. In avoiding too close a connexion with the
brig, we were obliged to make an intimacy with the frigate and in
consequence, an unlucky two-and-thirty-pound shot took off our fore-
mast at the partners, and our story was told.
"A prize-crew were put into the Fly-by-night, and we were bundled
into the frigate's launch, and brought with our traps on board the
Dasher. Men at the time were worth gold, and Captain Clewline
seemed to place more value on the crew than on the cargo of the lug-
ger. Three-and-twenty strapping fellows were indeed a god-send ;
and, after a question or two, all my companions were rated on the fri-
gate's books. I had from infancy a desperate dread of a man-o'-war
and, faith ! when my turn came, I thought I would try if my humani-
ties would save me.
" ' A smart lad/ said the schipper to the first lieutenant. ' Bred to
the sea, eh ?
" ( No, plase yer honour. I 'm at present a student in Maynooth.
" ' And attending a course of divinity on board the Fly-by-night !
exclaimed the lieutenant.
" '.What the devil brought you here ? asked the captain.
" ' Not exactly the devil, I replied, plase yer honour ; but I suspect
strongly a -near relation of the ould gentleman. And I looked at Tony
Gallagher, who was already as much at home on board the Dasher as if
he had been on her books from the launching.
" ' He '11 make a smart top-man, with a little training, said the
lieutenant.
(t ' Book him, said the schipper to the clerk.
'' ' Plase yer honours, I modestly remarked, I 'm preparin' for the
mission, and in three terms more
" ' Pish ! roared the captain. We '11 give you a degree here in half
the time.
" * My father intends to breed me a priest
12 BRIAN O'LINN.
" ' And I to mal<e you a sailor, added the lieutenant.
" ' I have already half bound myself to the Church.
" * From which rash obligation, I hereby give you plenary absolu-
tion, said the captain.
" ' Both he and his companion broke into a roar of laughter. I was
rated on the frigate's books ; arid in another month, when I should
have been engaged with my humanities at the College of Maynooth, I
was reefing topsails in the Bay of Biscay.
" ' Well, if God's truth must be told, in a short time I was more than
reconciled to my new associates. Captain Clewline kept us busy ;
but his was the employment that a sailor loves. This night, we cut
out a privateer, another, we dismantled a battery ; at last, off Ushant,
we fell in with a first-class frigate, and, though she was stronger by
six guns and a hundred men, we took her in an hour.
" ' I visited my home again I went out half a priest, and I returned
a whole sailor and, of course, a wife followed a frigate. Here have
I been resident five-and-twenty years ; and, should things go wrong,
Brian, jewel remember you have a home in Innisturk, and a heart
and a half to welcome ye.'
" So spake the headsman, and with an aching breast I sought my
humble bed. A strong yearning, secret and indescribable, led me to
accept the stranger's offer. One feeling alone would have bound me
to the island. In the cemetery of the ruined abbey my parents at
least I thought so were reposing and that was to me a sacred tie.
Fortune, however, pointed her finger forward her controlling influ-
ence was all-powerful and I obeyed the call.
" With a fine sea and sky, I quitted the island next morning. If
prayers availed, I had enough to prosper me. Many a little memorial
was offered and accepted, as I bade my playmates a last farewell; and
when Brian Tooie pressed my hand in his, and invoked God's protec-
tion on the fatherless ; and when his boat shoved off from the hooker's
side, a little woollen case, which had once contained a scapulary of his
mother, with three bright guineas, fell upon the deck.
" I picked the treasure up looked after my kind protector offered
a silent prayer for the dead and living in Innisturk and felt that
" ' The world was all before me where to choose.' "
CHAPTER IV.
More passages in a youug life. Love will be the lord of all. Loss of a protector.
THE visit of my new protector to his western estate was short, and
in a fortnight I found myself domesticated in Carramore Castle. All
within and around the domicile of Colonel St. George was replete with
luxury and elegance; and, when contrasted with the rude and lonelv
home I had just abandoned, the mansion seemed a fairy fabric, arid the
domain which surrounded it a land of romance, such as one reads of in
eastern tales.
To one wholly ignorant of mankind as I was, and whose know-
ledge of the world was as limited as the rock-bound isle on which his in-
fancy had passed, the altered circumstances of my life at first appeared
The story of my orphanage, and the mystery which
wrapped my birth, were whispered- round, and created an interest in
BRIAN O'LINN. 13
my favour that common-place boyhood could not obtain. The Colonel
was rather eccentric in his fancies. What should have been my true
position in society, none could more than guess. The presumption
was that the authors of my being were not of the humblest grade, but
to what order in the family of man they appertained, none could deter-
mine. My protector thought that, circumstances considered, to bring
me up a menial would be unjust, and to bring me up a gentleman unwise;
and, as a sort of middle course, he decided on placing me in the house
of his head keeper. The Colonel was an ardent sportsman ; in all the
art and mystery connected with field-sports he was an adept : among
the finest works of creation he assigned a foremost place to a steady
spaniel and a staunch retriever. He was master of the finest and best-
appointed kennel of foxhounds in the west, and, for the especial amuse-
men of the fair sex, resident or visitant at the Castle, a collection of
dwarf beagles were kept up of such diminutive dimensions, that the
whole pack was frequently carried to the field in a couple of side-bas-
kets across a cart-horse. In allotting a keeper's profession to me, he
only selected that which he would have adopted for himself, had fate
placed him in my situation, and permitted him the power of choice. I was
consequently transferred at once to the care of Hugh Nevill, and, as
far as the " science of venery" went, a more gifted Gamaliel never took
a neophyte in hand.
But another and a better instructor was in reserve and he was
the neighbouring clergyman. Mr. Brownlow discharged a double duty,
for to his church ministry he united the tutelage of my protector's
sons. He had learned from the Colonel my strange and romantic his-
tory ; my orphanage interested him : he visited me at the keeper's
was pleased with my appearance and next day proposed to the lord of
Carramore Castle to add me to the number of his pupils. A gracious
assent was given, and I commenced my course of instruction under a
man admirably calculated to impart it.
It is time I should acquaint you with some particulars of the
younger branches of a family into which I had been so singularly in-
troduced.
Lady Emily St. George was an Englishwoman of high birth,
and, some years before, of considerable personal attractions. She was
reported to be vain, proud, and cold. Her course of life had been
marked by nothing to characterise it. In the prime of her years and
her beauty she had passed the trying ordeal attendant on a fashion-
able career unscathed, and scandal and her name had never been
associated. But hers was a negative reputation. If nothing evil
could be adduced against her, no deeds of active charity or extended
benevolence could be remembered ; and, with ample power, had she
possessed the inclination to do good, she regarded the family of man
with apathetic indifference, and the weal or woe of others had no in-
terest for her. In public, her rank and station in society commanded
deference and respect; but in private, no orphan lisped her name with
gratitude nor in the widow's secret prayer was a blessing invoked
upon her head, when the humble orison was offered to the mercy-seat
above.
Her family was confined to William St. George, whom I have al-
ready noticed, and a younger brother, named Arthur ; and no youths
could be more dissimilar in temper, talent, person, and disposition.
William, my young patron, was a bold, fiery, giddy lad, spoiled from
14 BRIAN O'LINN.
his childhood his fancies unchecked from infancy, and permitted to
run riot as they pleased. His person was well formed and manly his
face by no means handsome, but the expression exceedingly favourable.
Willia'm was easily excited, and as easily appeased. Idle, and by no
means quick, his literary acquirements, were very unpretending. He
was altogether unsuspicious, and generous to a fault. His attachment
to field-sports was inveterate, and every hour in which he was not either
in the saddle, or occupied with fishing-rod or gun, was by him set down
as misspent time.
Arthur, in everything, was opposite. Younger by a year in the
parlance of the stable, he could buy his brother for a whistle, and
twist the household round his finger as he pleased. In appearance,
more than character, the kinsmen differed. Arthur, to a most intelli-
gent and rather handsome face, united a defective person. By some
neglect of his nurse, his spine had been injured while an infant, and,
although not exactly a hunchback, like Richard he was
" Scarce half made up,
And that so lame and unfashionable,"
as made him painfully remarkable. His mental qualities were very su-
perior to his brother's, and, without a pretension to talent, he had made
a respectable progress in his education, for he was both acute and in-
dustrious. With William, every thought was revealed, and he who
ran might read." Arthur, on the contrary, was impenetrablenone
could fathom what he wished concealed, and, like his secrets, his purse
could not be reached.
In estimating their children, the parents of my fellow-students al-
together differed. William was his father's favourite, while Ladv
Lmily idolized her second-born.
The very fact that William had fancied me, would have been quite
sufficient to have made Arthur St. George my enemy. As we ad-
vanced in life, the jealous pique of boyhood grew into a fixed aversion ;
and, as his brother's partiality increased, his dislike to me became
more rancorous. Personal considerations added fuel to the name.
lliam ,St. George was reckoned one of the finest young men in the
barony an d I, though three years younger, overtopped him by an inch.
With Arthur, the limbs elongated while the body remained in stalu
quo and, curtailed of this fair proportion," years only made his personal
ects the more apparent, and gave him an eternal opportunity, when
" he spied his shadow in the sun,
To descant on his own deformity "
gazetted to a cornetcy in the th lancers and A lit Wllllam was
plete his education in Cambridge. Left alon Mr B T ^
me to live with him. He wanted a ' B l' ownlow """ited
protector , allow me to Kta ^S"
ndc t , mt experiment with one who could^e
BRIAN O'LINN. 15
pound of Ballinasloe : learning might " be the spoil of me ;" but finally
he consented.
And yet, were the truth known, I would have far rather remained
under the roof of Hugh Nevill. Good taste and pride led me to
embrace Mr. Brownlow's flattering offer, but a stronger spring of
human action bound me to the humbler domicile of the gamekeeper ;
and, when I removed myself and personal effects to the Vicar's, my
heart remained in the cottage where my earlier years were spent.
"Bear with me,<sir," continued the rejected recruit, "if I tax your
patience with a love-story."
I smiled assent, and Brian thus continued
Hugh Nevill had an only child and Susan was younger by a
year than I. Brought up from childhood together, our intimacy was
unbounded, and, as the world believed, we were destined for each
other. Susan was more than pretty. With a description of rustic
beauty I will not weary you; but all admitted that the keeper's
daughter was the fairest girl within fifty miles.
But Susan was more than fair she was gentle, warm-hearted, and
intelligent. Such portion of the information imparted to me by Mr.
Brownlow as was suited to a female's education I communicated to
the keeper's daughter, and never had a young professor a quicker or a
lovelier pupil. An intimacy so close as ours could lead but to one re-
sult. I loved with all the intensity of passion a first love only knows,
and Susan faithfully and ardently returned it.
Two years passed, and their occurrences may be briefly noticed.
The Colonel shot and hunted his lady's time was pretty equally di-
vided between her toilet and her flower-garden William St. George
was mostly with his regiment and when Arthur was not at the Uni-
versity, he generally was wandering on the Continent. My life, al-
though monotonous, was probably the happiest of all. My mornings
were spent in literary labour my evenings in the society of my beauti-
ful mistress.
From this period I have to date the commencement of my misery.
The heir of Carramore Castle had attained his majority, and it was
made an occasion for feasting and gaiety at the mansion. Arthur had
returned from Italy to be present at this scene of general festivity
and would to God he had remained where he had been !
While the gentry for miles around were collected and entertained,
the tenantry were not forgotten. A rustic ball was given, and, of
course, the sweetest girl in the barony was not omitted in the general
invitation. Until this unhappy fete, to Arthur St. George, Susan
Nevill was almost unknown for he held manly amusements in con-
tempt, and, consequently, never visited the keeper's cottage. Three
years had elapsed since he had last met Susan, she was then a mere girl
who gave promise of future prettiness. He had not watched her love-
liness gradually develope ; when suddenly beauty, in full maturity, was
unexpectedly presented to his view. To look, and love, and determine
to possess, instantly resulted. The reckless ardour, with which Wil-
liam would have sought the object whom he fancied, might have been
considered dangerous, but Arthur's slow and calculating method of
pursuit, was more to be dreaded than the open libertinism which mark-
ed his brother's gallantries.
It was on this occasion, that my younger patron requested me to visit
him in Dublin, where his regiment was quartered; and I, who had
16 BRIAN O'LINN.
never seen a city, gladly accepted the invitation. Arthur's feelings to-
wards my fair mistress were carefully concealed, and with consummate
art he masked his future purposes. I left Carramore in false security
no honourable suitor for Susan's hand was to be feared we had already
plighted our mutual troth the keeper knew and sanctioned the en-
gagement and at a period not very distant, it had been arranged that
our fortunes should be united indissolubly.
My young protector had provided a lodging for rne close to the
barracks, and I spent most of my time in his apartments. Never was
a being more anxious to sink the superiority which birth and property
conferred ; and, to his aristocratic companions, he introduced me with
such good taste as a favourite protege, and threw so much romance
over my simple history, that by all I was graciously received, and
treated rather like an equal than an inferior. I found him in the very
vortex of elegant dissipation admired, courted, followed. All that
fashion prescribes, and luxury requires, were his profusely. His equi-
page, horses, and servants, were on a scale of magnificence, that none
among his high-born associates presumed to emulate and would that
his extravagance had terminated there ! He had formed an unhappy
liaison, and closed the large amount of his imprudence by adding to
the list a beautiful and worthless mistress. Her he had established in
a pretty cottage two or three miles from town and the second evening
after my arrival, he brought me in his tilbury to sup with Mrs. Mon-
tague.
I had read books enough but that of man to me was still a sealed
volume. To a very pleasing person, the lady united some showy ac-
complishments, and a polished and insinuating address. Prepared by
the kind and flattering sketch which William St. George had drawn of
his humble friend, my reception from Mrs. Montague was most natter-
ing. Her conversation was light and entertaining^ her manners par-
ticularly easy : she had the happy knack of making everybody at once
at home ; and when I retired at midnight to the chamber that had been
prepared for my accommodation, I came to the determination, that if a
man could be pardoned for taking that fashionable article most likely to
lead him to the devil to wit, a mistress, William St. George might
plead circumstances in mitigation of the offence.
I have already stated that the disposition 'of the heir of Carramore
was open and unsuspicious: and, in his domestic arrangements and in-
tercouse with Mrs. Montague, this peculiar trait of character was
strongly evidenced. Several of his military friends were not only visi-
tors, but intimates in this suburban retreat. They came and departed
as they pleased; and seldom a day passed over, that a lancer or two
were not at the cottage to lunch, and, probably, a fresh relay arrived
for coffee. I, by my protector's especial wish, was placed on what he
termed the strength of the establishment," occupied a chamber in the
villa, and was left to keep watch arid ward over the treasure it con-
tained.
His absences were frequent, and, at times, protracted even to three
days, and of course I remained in very dangerous society. Deem me not
vain when I add that from the first moment of rny introduction to Mrs.
Montague, that lady marked me out as a most decided favourite. All
that consummate art could do was done to lead me to own the power of
her attractions-for she little knew that a counter-charm had rendered
me impenetrable to woman s witchery. Well, in good time, she ascribed
BRIAN O'LINN. 17
my indifference to mauvaise honte, and determined to cure that infir-
mity ; dead to every feeling that even the most worthless should
respect, she made the essay failed, and became my mortal enemy.
The poet says
*' Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turn'd,
Nor hell a fury like a woman spurn'd ;"
and I experienced its sad truth.
Over the occurrence which led to the most painful moment of my
life, I draw a veil. It is enough to say, that Mrs. Montague did not suc-
ceed in shaking my fidelity to my patron, and that early next morning,
I left the cottage. Arrived in town, I let hours pass away, wondering
what course I should pursue, and how I should disclose the infamy of
his false mistress to her dupe. I wrote, recited in plain terms the
discovery I had made, and, in a few hours received an answer
declaring his total disbelief of what he termed my false and slanderous
assertions and, taxing me with perfidy and deceit, he bade me an eter-
nal farewell. Upon the cause of quarrel he enjoined the strictest se-
cresy intimated that he would not mar my fortunes by an exposure-
and assured me, that what had passed should only be known to our-
selves.
Great God ! was ever wretch so foully and so innocently maligned
and persecuted ? In the fullest integrity of purpose I had acted and
the consequence was that I was made the victim of principle and my
best friend alienated from me, and for ever ! The artful wretch
had triumphed over poor William's unsuspicious nature persuaded
him that I had made insolent advances, which she had virtuously and
indignantly repelled and that, in revenge, I had endeavoured to ruin
her in the estimation of the only man she ever loved.
I hurried from the metropolis, and none can fancy the agony of
mind I underwent. My kind tutor and faithful Susan remarked the
sad change which my ill-starred visit to the capital had wrought, and both
gently urged me to confide the secret misery which racked my bosom,
whose ravages my sunken eye and pallid cheek betrayed. But I
obeyed the injunction I had received from one whom, with all his
faults and follies, I regarded with brotherly affection ; and although my
first concealment of thought or act from either caused Susan many a
tear, and Mr. Brownlow much uneasiness, I maintained a painful
silence on the unhappy occurrence which had dissolved my friendship
with William St. George.
Another cause of great unhappiness added to my other sorrows.
Arthur had merely visited Carramore, as it was said, out of compliment
to his brother and on the conclusion of the festivities in honour of
William's majority, it had been announced that he would leave Ireland
for a year. On my return home, I found him still an inmate of the
Castle and, stranger and more suspicious yet, a daily visitor at the
cottage of Hugh Nevill. Artfully he framed apologies for these fre-
quent calls so well, that they created no suspicion but to me. In some
matters love may be blind, but in others he is confoundedly sharp-
sighted.
I must confess that from the first moment I made the discovery of
Arthur's visitings, a deadly feeling of evil anticipations filled my
soul nor did his altered manner towards myself remove my secret
apprehensions. When we met at the gamekeeper's which we did
VOL. xix. c
18 BRIAN O'LINN.
frequently his manner to me was bland, and more than friendly.
Why should this be ? I felt its insincerity, and my heart whispered
me to beware !
A month elapsed ; no hurried scroll had, as it was his wont,
come to the Vicarage from William. Once or twice Mr. Brownlow
had noticed this circumstance, but I evaded his questions.
One morning a voluminous letter was waiting for me when I came
down to breakfast. At first I did not recognise the hand-writing, but
the seal was William St. George's. I broke it ran my eye rapidly
over the contents and, when I had perused them, flung the letter
across the table to my excellent friend, and rose and sought the
window to hide my agitation. The fatal letter fatal, indeed, it
proved ran thus:
"Ill-used and faithful Brian, how shall thy erring friend address
thee ? At this moment, what pains me deepest is the gross return I
rendered to thy faithful honesty. A crisis impends in four-and-
twenty hours I may be rated among the living, or numbered with the
dead ; and, should it be my last request from man, I write to ask your
pardon. No more of this and now for particulars.
" That infernal woman oh ! what a fool I was ! did with me as
she pleased. Her tact and artifice were matchless ; and, would you
credit it ? there was not a man in the garrison who did not know her
infamy, save one myself! I the double-d d dupe of a heartless
courtezan !
" I know not wherefore, Brian, but at times doubts of Mrs. Mon-
tague's fidelity crossed my mind, and my good angel whispered that
you were true to me as steel ; and, when I remembered the past, I came
to a conclusion I wished to avoid, and confessed that I had grossly
wronged you. Curses light upon the traitress ! Again and again I
had determined to break the thrall which bound me ; but her influence
was irresistible, and, flinging my better judgment to the winds idiot
that I was I wore my fetters still.
" Darnley, as you know, was a favourite ; and, if ever man was
bound^by every tie of gratitude to another, he stood in that relation to
me. 'Twere idle to name the causes but they existed ; and he, false
scoundrel ! admitted them in private, and was loud in his acknowledg-
ments for the services I had rendered him.
" Yesterday, in turn of duty, I mounted the Castle guard, and, as
I slept the preceding night at the Cottage, I was obliged to rise un-
usually early to reach the Royal Barracks before the relief marched.
Fanny the girl you so much disliked had quarrelled with her mis-
tress.--! know not what the cause was, but whatever it might have
been, it raised in the revengeful attendant the deadliest animosity to-
wards the offender. Mrs. Montague was still asleepthe groom had
gone to the stables to bring the horses round and I was standin"- at
the door placing a flower I had plucked in my button-hole; when a
light tap upon the shoulder made me look about, and Fanny was
standing at my elbow.
"'Are you for guard, to-night?' she observed, with a look that fixed
my attention instantly.
" ' I am/ I replied ; ' why do you ask the question ?'
1 < Oh ! merely to tell you that you need fear nothing for our safety.
A kind and considerate friend of yours will afford us his protection.'
Hell and fury.! what mean ye ? Speak, girl ?'
BRIAN O'LINN. 19
"She smiled as she cast on me a mingled glance of pity and con-
tempt.
" ' If it were necessary to speak more, I have already spoken too
much/ she coolly answered. f Here comes Henry and the horses, and
I wish you a pleasant ride/ and, turning into the passage, she hummed
a stave of the old ballad
a ' Oh ! she loved a bold dragoon,
With his long sword, saddle, and bridle.'
" You may readily imagine what was the effect of Fanny's myste-
rious, yet intelligible communication. Damning doubts arose and,
when I called to mind your candid and honest expose of her infamy, I
marvelled at the strange infatuation which, even for a moment, would
allow me to question your well-known truth and become the dupe of a
specious intriguante. What was to be done ? Act promptly on the
information unmask the false woman who had betrayedand take
vengeance on the false friend who had insulted me.
" Promptness was required, but so was prudence ; and I determined
to consult Major Howard, and be guided by his advice as to the course
1 should adopt. I rode directly to his lodgings found him dressing
for parade related the morning scene with Fanny confessed the tale
of infamy you had communicated, and asked his counsel.
" ' My dear boy/ he said as he took my hand, ' you have made a dis-
covery at last, that all the world for months before, were well acquaint-
ed with and, excuse my frankness in conveying a disagreeable truth,
you have by turns elicited the pity and 'the laughter of your compa-
nions. Nay, do not colour so yours is but a common-place occur-
rence thousands are every day fooled by worthless women, only that
generally the thing is more discreetly managed. Indeed, your amiable
friend thought any attention to appearances quite unnecessary, and
fooled you to your face. Well, I rejoice that even now, at the eleventh
hour, the delusion has ended, and that you have ample power of de-
tecting an ungrateful wretch, and flinging her from you for ever.
Have you no suspicion who her paramour may be ?'
" ' Not I, by Heaven ! I never doubted her or dreamed that one
who artfully induced me to believe that I engrossed her whole affec-
tions, could play me false.'
' Well, you are on guard for to-day. Go to the Castle with the re-
lief, and, after the guard is trooped, under a plea of illness another sub-
altern shall take your place. You must keep close and, the lady, left
in full and false security. I have little doubt from the hints given you
by her faithful companion, that the favourite swain will most probably
honour the cottage with his company and if a shadow of unbelief re-
mains of the fair Montague's infidelity, why the chances are that you
will obtain ocular demonstration. Now, in God's name, be off! Hurry
to parade and in an hour or two expect me at the Castle.'
" I did as Howard advised dressed and mounted accompanied the
relief -and put suspicion at defiance.
" In the course of the morning, Lord Alfred Crosby took my duty
and Major Howard and I repaired to an obscure hotel, where we dined
and passed the evening. It was almost midnight before I thought it
prudent to repair to the cottage and, having procured a jaunting-car,
I drove to a public-house in its vicinity, discharged the vehicle, and
proceeded on foot to the abode of my faithless mistress. I had armed
c 2
20 BRIAN O'LINN.
myself with pistols,-but, at the urgent entreaty of Ma J' H oward, - 1
gave him the weapons, and from what afterwards occurred it was a pri
dent precaution in my friend. _ , ,
" I entered the garden that surrounded the domicile of Mrs. Mo
ta<me by a pass-key, which I used occasionally when detained in Dub-
lin to a late hour. ' The clock struck one, and the cottage was wrapped
in silence. I was aware that the whole establishment had retired for
the niolit for no light was visible but that from a lamp which burned
always in the hall. The pass-key gave me admission. I took the
lieht up entered the eating-room, and found the fragments of the even-
ing meal which still remained upon the table. Mrs. Montague had
not made a solitary supperfor the plates and glasses told that a se-
cond person had been present.
" I lighted a candle replaced the lamp upon the hall-table and
quietly 'mounted the stairs. The bed-room door was fastened, but
through the dressing-room I could gain admission to the lady's cham-
ber. A dress sabre was hanging from a peg. I took it merely for
self-defence.
" Before I entered the apartment, I recalled to memory Major Howard's
parting admonition : * Whatever discovery you make whatever may
occur to pain your feelings or wound your pride let nothing cause you to
lose command of your temper. The" deeper the injury, the cooller it be-
comes the injured to remain, until he exacts the full measure of satis-
faction for the offence received.'
" Shading the candle with my hand, I stood at the bottom of the
bed. The slumbers said to wait upon a guiltless pillow, had
sealed the sparkling eyes of Mrs. Montague, and, sleeping by her
side, lay Captain Darnley, my very excellent and grateful friend,
whose commission I had preserved the month before, by becoming re-
sponsible to his creditors for upwards of two thousand pounds.
" You, Brian, who know so well the natural warmth of my temper,
will scarcely imagine with what coolness, by the evidence of my
own eyes, I satisfied myself that the woman I had so lavishly support-
ed, and let me own my weakness so fondly loved, was worse than
worthless and that the man I had preserved from ruin and disgrace,
had returned this good service by dishonouring his preserver. I tore
the curtains open raised the candle high and, in an instant, dis-
turbed by light and noise, the guilty pair started from their broken
sleep, and encountered a basilisk glance which might have slain them.
The faithless woman uttered a piercing scream, and hid herself beneath
the bed-covering ; while, with a gaze of terror and surprise, Darnley
stared at his outraged benefactor, and shuddered to perceive the naked
blade glittering in my hand, which no doubt he expected next moment
would be buried in his heart.
f ' Fear nothing, sir. Scoundrel as you are, 1 scorn to take you at
advantage. Rise and dress. Follow me down stairs and in the draw-
ing-room you will find the fellow of this weapon at your service, and
me in readiness to receive you.'
"I left the apartment rang the bells loudly called up the ser-
vantsand had the apartment in which the intended encounter was to
take place lighted up, and the ottoman and tables cleared away. I
laid a second sword on a chair beside the door for the accommodation of
my excellent friend. Both weapons were King's order pattern, and of
course precisely similar.
BRIAN O'LINN. 21
"From time to time I turned my eyes to the mantelpiece, and,
everything considered, fancied that the gallant captain was rather elabo-
rate "at his toilet for more than half an hour had elapsed, and still my
more favoured rival did not appear. Another ten minutes passed away,
and, becoming a little impatient, I rang for Fanny, and desired her to
present my compliments to Captain Darnley, and acquaint him that he
had been expected in the drawing-room. The soubrette returned
promptly, and intimated that my too fortunate competitor in love was
not forthcoming, but had, while I was preparing all below for his re-
ception, taken an unceremonious departure through a back window,
and that too in such light marching order, as even to dispense with
every garment save the one which is always considered indispensable.
" The bird was flown, and it would be useless to make any search
after the fugitive. I knew where he was to be found next morning-
and I felt that my conduct was such as would give satisfaction to my
friend and adviser Major Howard, and prove to him that his counsels
had not been unheeded. I ordered a bed to be prepared and, pre-
viously to retiring, dispatched a message by Fanny to her mistress, in-
timating that the earlier the next morning Mrs. Montague could
change her residence, the removal would be the more agreeable.
" At eight o'clock I rode into town to-day called on my friend the
Major told him what had occurred, and met with his fullest approba-
tion touching the course I had pursued. Darnley had gained his
rooms, Heaven knows how, after his evasion from the cottage. I took
the earliest opportunity of offering him a mortal insult and horse-
whipped him on parade, and in the presence of the whole regiment.
" I need scarcely add that he sent a message, which, as a matter
of course, has been accepted. Our meeting has, however, been delay-
ed. Not an officer would act for him on the occasion, and he has been
obliged to dispatch a courier some fifty miles into the country, to obtain
the services of a kinsman. At eight to-morrow evening we meet."
The letter went into some private details not relevant to the affair,
and concluded with a most affectionate valediction.
As I concluded a perusal of William St. George's communication,
dire forebodings of a fatal result filled my mind. I recollected that, on
one occasion I had been present when the visitors at the cottage
amused themselves with pistol practice, and that Darnley never missed
the card he fired at. The terrible insult inflicted on him so publicly
precluded every hope of accommodation ; the quarrel was mortal, and
there could be little doubt that nothing short of blood could expiate the
offence committed on both sides. What was to be done ? There was
a stern injunction in the letter desiring me to conceal the affair care-
fully from the family. I dared not venture to disobey the command,
and if 1 did, the knowledge that a deadly encounter was impending,
would be only anticipating misery which, unhappily, might be too
fatally and too soon realized.
I however determined to start instantly for the metropolis, and,
having obtained a fast horse from the Castle stables, was enabled to
catch the mail coach at the neighbouring stage. I reached Dublin at
seven in the evening Hung myself on a jaunting-car went at a gallop
down the quays reached the Royal Barracks and learned from Wil-
liam's servant that his master, accompanied by two gentlemen, had
driven out in his phaeton a few minutes before my arrival. I told him
that I was quite aware of the affair, and that I had posted to town to
22 BRIAN O'LINN.
be present at the duel. To my question of where the meeting was to
take place, he assured me he was in perfect ignorance, but, pointing to
Major Howard then walking in the barrack-yard,, he hinted that
from him I should be most likely to obtain the necessary information.
I was known to the Major and a brief conversation terminated in
his giving me full directions which enabled me to overtake the combat-
ants. The fourth milestone on the Ashburn Road had been named as
the place of meeting ; and the driver of the jaunting-car I had left in
waiting, under the assurance of an additional half-crown, intimated
that he would drive his best, a promise he conscientiously redeemed.
The locality of the scene on which this affair of honour was to be
transacted might have been clearly ascertained at a mile's distance be-
fore we reached it. Like wildfire, the intelligence of the intended duel
spread and men driving along the road at headlong speed, and peasants,
who had left their spades in the furrow, bounding over ditch and drain,
showed an Irish anxiety to be in time to see the coming fight. When
we turned into a lane from the highway, the narrowness of the road
impeded us considerably, and a struggle between two rival whips as to
which should gain a field-gate, involved a question of precedency and,
both jumping by mutual consent from their respective seats of
honour, proceeded to settle the matter in dispute by a personal
combat.
I saw a ring consisting of probably, three hundred persons collected
in the adjoining meadow, and there of course I should be most likely
to find tne combatants. I abandoned the jaunting-car, jumped the
fence, pushed through the crowd, and found the duellists and their
friends already on the ground they had chosen for bringing their
quarrel to mortal arbitrament.
My hurried step and excited countenance led the lookers-on to sup-
pose that I was personally concerned in the affair of honour, and they
accordingly made way for me. The movement of the crowd occasioned
William St. George to turn his eye in that direction, and he instantly
recognized me. As the preliminaries were not quite adjusted, he
stepped aside, seized my hand, and warmly pressed it.
" My poor boy ! my faithful friend ! " were the only words he ut-
tered, but the tone and manner in which these brief sentences were
spoken I never shall forget. I had neither time nor power to reply.
Captain O'Brien, his second, beckoned to him pointed to a glove upon
the ground, and William St. George placed himself behind it. The
same ceremony was performed to his principal by Darnley's friend and
the duellists confronted each other at the short distance of ten paces.
The crowd opened behind the combatants, and, in a double line,
awaited the issue of the next minute in breathless silence.
I examined the countenances of both and never did men whom a
few seconds might hurry into eternity appear so little perturbed. But
cool and collected as they were, could the expression of the face be re-
lied upon, under that calm exterior the deadliest conflict of secret pas-
sion was concealed. The hostile attitude they stood in recalled feelings
of mortal animosity. In the man before him, William St. George saw
one who had treacherously and painfully dishonoured him ; and Darn-
ley, m fancy, writhed again under the lashes of a whip ignominiously
iflicted on him m the presence of a regiment. In one circumstance
i appearance of the combatants was dissimilar. The flush of an^er
coloured St. George's cheeks; while the bloodless hue, which often
THERE WAS A TIME IN INFANCY. 23
betrays the deadliest animosity, left Darnley's pale as " the sheeted
ghost."
The last and fatal minute which preceeded the fatal denouement of
the drama, I never never shall forget ; and, could half the misery of a
life be concentrated into that short span, I do not think its whole
amount would reach to what I suffered. Not a murmur was heard
from the crowd the seconds, mid-distance between the principals,
exchanged a few brief sentences in too low a voice to reach the lookers-
on they separated approached their respective friends and placed
a pistol in the hand of each. Stepping two or three paces out of the
line of fire, they stopped and Captain O'Brien, with marked em-
phasis, observed
" Gentlemen ! The words are ' Ready Fire ! ' Do you perfectly
understand me?"
The combatants assented by a bow.
With an interval of a couple of seconds between them, the fatal
words were spoken. Both pistols exploded so simultaneously that
they seemed to have but one report. My eyes were fixed upon Wil-
liam St. George. Great God! as the word Fire! was ringing in my
ear, he made a stagger forward, and fell to the ground a dead man !
THERE WAS A TIME IN INFANCY.
THERE was a time in infancy, I well remember now,
When seated on my mother's knee, with grave and thoughtful brow,
I listened to some tale of heav'n, and spirits far away,
Then clasp'd my little hands in hers, and both knelt down to pray !
How tenderly she taught my lips to move in accents mild !
How fervently she breath'd the hope that He would bless her child,
When lonely, in a chilling world, his way he should pursue,
Without one heart to beat for him, affectionate and true !
And speaking thus, more tremulous, she would my arms entwine,
And press her cheek bedew'd with tears still closer unto mine!
With feelings hallow'd by commune, would fold me to her breast,
And sing some touching melody to lull me to my rest !
Remember ? ay, that look of love can never be effaced,
Though seasons'long have fleeted since the living lines I traced ;
In the visions of my early days, that riper years pourtray,
The mother's smile' that bless'd me then will never pass aAvay !
I see it when I wander 'midst the crowded walks of life,
It is my star of guidance through the shoals of mortal strife ;
Or, when secluded from the world, my thoughts are homeward bent,
Amidst the forms that greet me there, an angel one is blent !
When shadows veil the brow of night mine eyes can tranquil close,
While conscious that a wing of love doth shelter their repose ;
And when in dreamland borne away endearingly and sweet
Amidst the glories cluster'd there that gentle mien I greet.
Companion of my solitude ! for such I deem thou art,
Still, mother, to my pilgrimage thine influence impart ;
And cheer my spirit with the hope, although its eve be nigh,
The smile that brighten'd in decline will herald it on high I
EARLY YEARS OF A VETERAN OF THE ARMY OF
WESTPHALIA,
BETWEEN 1805 AND 1814.
THE road was now nearly clear, except of the military before-men-
tioned ; for as the fugitives, on coming out of the town, perceived the
Russian artillery upon the heights at no great distance, and heard their
fire, they stopped, and knew not whether or not, or where to proceed.
Without any long consideration I hurried on, thinking, with a heavy
heart, upon my poor comrades ; when suddenly, having walked about
half a league, I discovered a small sledge to which a miserable horse
was harnessed, whipped on unmercifully by the driver beside it. I
observed at the same time a person lying in the sledge. Now and
again a ball came whistling across the road, and then redoubled strokes
upon the weary beast, which could hardly put one foot before the
other. I soon overtook the sledge ; and who can picture my astonish-
ment when in the merciless coachman I recognised my faithful servant,
and my poor Brand in the master of the sledge ! In our surprise and
joy we cried out aloud ; Brand wept like a child, and drew a good
omen from this happy encounter. Neither of them had tasted food,
and I hastened to share my loaf and my bottle of rum with them,
which poured new life into their veins. My first inquiry was for my
comrades ; and I learned that they for a considerable time had labour-
ed to get the carriage on ; but that at length, having arrived at a spot
where a great fire had been, and where they found some shelter against
the excessive cold, they renounced all farther exertion to that effect.
Meanwhile my servant was able to procure this little sledge, with this
over-driven horse, and put Brand into it, as the one more particularly
belonging to me, and in the hope of finding me again, had quitted the
others. To traverse Wilna had been utterly impossible with all his
efforts, and he had passed the whole night attempting by side-paths to
gain the great road, on which I found the poor fellows flying with all
their speed before the enemy's fire. The greatest number of the wan-
derers out of Moscow who got as far as Wilna, certainly remained in
it; some were made prisoners, and many died in consequence of their
superhuman exertions ; but as we advanced beyond the reach of the
enemy's cannon the way was again almost choked with fugitives ; and
these augmented to such a degree, that, after ascending a hill, our path
through the living, the dead, ruins, equipages, and impediments of all
sorts, was blocked up, and we could not proceed with our sledge. We
therefore unharnessed our horse, laid a heap of garments on him, and
Brand's yet preserved parade chabrack, to make a commodious seat for
our invalid, and then leading our tired hack by the bridle, undertook
to penetrate through this chaos. Having succeeded, and the road
being less encumbered, we sought for, and procured another sledge, to
which we re-harnessed our jaded steed, and hurried onward, thinking
that we should only be in safety after having crossed the Niemen, and
therefore pushed on towards Kowno, which it took us three days to
reach. Here, however, we found the place pallisaded on the Wilna
side, and I, seeing the multitudes before the gates, despaired of
making good our entrance ; so I soon made up my mind, and struck out
EARLY YEARS OF A VETERAN, ETC. 25
of the high road for the purpose of crossing over the Niemen, which
was happily executed.
As we once more attained the road on the other side of the town, a
crowd again surrounded us; but my good luck brought me near a
soldier who was carrying a great camp-kettle full of rum. I slipped
behind him unobserved, drew forth my silver goblet, and dipped it
cautiously into the perfumed liquid. The first robbery was for myself,
I then repeated my experiment for Brand, and, thirdly, for my man :
however, at my last plunge into my neighbour's property, he became
aware of his unbidden guest, and turned round furiously upon me with
his clenched fist. Some napoleons pacified him for the damage done,
but no repeated offers of money could induce him to let me draw one
goblet more of the rum.
The banks of the river rise to a considerable height on the other side
of Kowno, and we had to pass through a deep hollow way in which lay
a great number of baggage- waggons among overturned wheel carriages
of every description; this defile was commanded by some French pieces
of ordnance which were still serviceable.
Some Jews of Kowno had got wind of this treasure, as ravens do of
carcasses at a distance, and a whole troop of them were at work plun-
dering the rich contents of the upset military chests with greedy fora-
ging hands. All on a sudden some cannon were fired into the very
thickest of them, and, in a moment, the Jews fled with such velocity
that they tumbled one over the other crying out lustily at the same
time. Nevertheless, when we had gone on a short distance from them,
we looked back and saw that already some of the boldest of them were
again treasure-hunting, and, by degrees, the others rejoined them, so
far does the desire for gold outbalance the dread of death !
The frost penetrated us so dreadfully that we began to be quite be-
numbed ; Brand's leg, thanks to the stolen waters, was greatly swell-
ed, repose was urgently necessary for him, and the poor horse could
move but slowly. Although we on this day, for the first time, had
made but a small journey, we stopped at the next house on our road,
left the sledge at the door, and hastened, unfeeling as we were in our
benumbed condition, into a warm room without attending to the wants
of our poor beast. Brand lay down near the stove, I and my servant
near him, and we slept till midnight; then feeling myself somewhat invi-
gorated, I went out to look after my equipage, but equipage and horse
were both away, which put me in great consternation on account of my
invalid. Without saying anything of our loss to him, I called to my
servant and imparted our misfortune to him, asking him what was now
to be done ?
" I will try and find another," was the consolatory answer of the
brave Westpbalian ; and truly, as I soon afterwards was making in the
room with Brand some preparations for our journey, the trusty fellow
showed himself at the door, nodded his head, and signed to me to come.
On leaving the house we found a sledge ready before it better than
the lost one ; Brand was packed into it, and he then first remarked
that it was not the same. Quickly went we on, and so much the more
quickly as we had reason to apprehend a claim being put in for the
sledge by the rightful owner.
We had journeyed on almost all day without breaking our fast and
extremely weary with our course, when we came to a side-path on
which were fresh traces of a sledge. I told Brand that I was deter-
26 EARLY YEARS OF A VETERAN
mined, come what would, to turn off the high-road and try our fortune
upon the side-path. No sooner said than done. In a short time we
saw smoke issue from the chimney of a small farm-house. At a little
distance we greeted it with indescribable joy, though we soon remark-
ed that the inhabitants as we drew near took flight into an adjoining
forest. But this did not annoy us, we took possession of the warm com-
fortable room, and discovered in the large stove, that in Russian houses
answers many purposes, a quantity of roasted, or more properly, baked
potatoes, which we fell upon without the ceremony of peeling them ;
filled our bread- wallet with them, gave hay to our horse, and stored our
sledge with it, so that Brand was quite surrounded by it.
Although we would fain have gone to repose upon the handsome
well-heated stove, we could not venture to do so, because from hour to
hour the return of our involuntary hosts might be expected, and, as
there was reason to dread, with a reinforcement sufficient to annihilate
us.
We resolved, therefore, to pursue our journey upon the same track,
and were lucky enough, at the distance of about a league, to arrive at
an isolated Kretscham, whose owner, a Je\v, (as is usual,) received us
kindly.
During my earlier march through Poland, I had made myself well ac-
quainted with the jargon of the sons of Israel, and always gained their
good will by it, upon this occasion too it was of the utmost advantage
to me. The Jew was complaisance itself, and quite enraptured at my
wonderful learning. My first question was " Have you anything to
eat?" to which he gave the laconic but gratifying answer, "Is:" then
followed one for brandy and a like affirmative, with an accompanying
evidence of the same.
Here, during a few hours, we took exquisite care of ourselves ; and
our horse was equally well attended to, as I discovered through a very
short dialogue, being too comfortable I must add too fatigued to look
after him myself. " And how fares it with our poor horse ?" asked I
of my active Jew, to which he simply but satisfactorily replied " He
eats !" At the same moment I heard the mamma inquire where the
boy was, and his father replv in the usual form of speech, " Where
should he be then ? he is sitting in the chamber and eats."
I now interrogated my Jew as to where I could strike into the public
road, which he indicated to me it is true, but added that it would be
impossible to find it without a guide. I begged him to procure
me one j he promised to do so, and left me in search of one. In the
course of an hour he came back, shrugged his shoulders, saying, " The
carles" (their common appellation for the peasants) " will not." I con-
jured him to try once more, and about two o'clock he returned and told
me that one of the peasants had consented to accompany us.
I now quietly made an examination of my arms: I took for myself
a well-charged gun, and my man was provided with a bright, sharp
hunting-knife. These preparatory measures will not be deemed unne-
cessary when it is considered that our solitary road led through thick
forests where it would be easy to fall upon us, or where a treacherous
guide might decoy us into an ambuscade. However, thanks be to God,
our fears were groundless, and at noon we arrived in safety at Marien-
Sol, though meeting many obstacles, and always suffering from the
eadly cold.
Our guide was dismissed, and we betook ourselves to an inn in which
OF THE ARMY OF WESTPHALIA. 27
we could hardly find shelter, but, however, plenty of provisions. I
could not, without vast difficulty, persuade my wounded companion to
move from hence ; he implored me for longer delay, but the prospect
of soon reaching the Prussian frontier allowed me no repose or rest,
and at two o'clock in the morning we were again en route. Next day
we went no further than to Ludenowe. where incredible luxury ! we
found a litter of straw which was so enticing that we, for the first
time, lay aside our upper clothing, the heavy money bags, and all our
military appurtenances, that we might for once enjoy repose upon
something better than the bare earth. At two o'clock I awoke and
called aloud, but neither the landlord nor Brand could be roused from
slumber. To myself also the warmth was beyond measure attractive ;
and, though with many a vain effort to the contrary, I sank back again
into my straw, and soon afterwards to sleep.
Out of this I was suddenly awakened by a sharp current of air,
which the heat of the room rendered more perceptible, and I became
sensible of a running to and fro through the open door. Springing up,
half asleep, to learn what might be the cause of this disturbance, I saw
a cro\vd of Russian soldiers partly of Cossacks, partly hussars all
well armed, rush into our chamber. We were soon surrounded ; any re-
sistance was useless ; and all our past exertions and struggles to avoid
this dreaded destiny had been made in vain. One of the soldiers col-
lared me; I thrust him off: another aimed at my glittering cartouche-
box, a third at my money-bag. I threw myself immediately upon that
fellow in the hope of snatching from him my property upon which pro-
bably my whole future support in life depended ; but the Cossack
drew his sabre, and I, seeing the fruitlessness of my opposition, left
him, since I could not avoid it, my comely pouch. He cut it open with
a sharp knife, and upon surveying it quite full of double napoleons, his
countenance became distorted by a grotesque grin. He clapped me on
the shoulder, repeating the word l< Caraschall ! caraschall !" and
leaving the apartment in all promptitude, he threw himself upon his
horse and disappeared. The vagabonds also took away my furs, but I
had still the rest of my clothes and my large cloak ; moreover, I had
yet in one of my pockets a hoard that escaped the first rapid pillagers,
for my purse contained five double napoleons, a ducat, with some money
in silver, and how to save this was now my sole consideration.
As soon as 1 could slip away, I hastened to the stable and concealed
the money* wrapped up in paper, behind a stone of the manger, and
then returned to the common room. Here was a new irruption of ar-
rivals who searched and handled me for watches and jewels. But I
had lost mine a gold repeater ^on the way, for which reason Brand
had given me his plain silver one, and it was now about me, yet so well
concealed, that the scoundrels did not discover it. We were now taken
into another house, where already were many prisoners; however, I
was previously able to repossess myself of my treasure, and held it fast
locked in my left hand.
In our new abode we found a non-commissioned officer of the hussars,
who behaved with great civility, and ordered warm victuals and brandy
to be brought us, but all the time had his eyes fixed upon our rings,
though without asking for them. When I remarked this, I requested
Brand to make him a voluntary offer of his, saying that I would do the
same, for we could scarcely hope to be allowed to keep them. A many
times repeated " Caraschall" was our thanks, besides a redoubled atten-
28 EARLY YEARS OF A VETERAN.
tion to our necessities. We every moment expected to be carried off;
however, to our amazement, many of the soldiers rode away, and in a
short time we saw the whole immediate neighbourhood free of the
Cossacks. . . ir
And now we must try once more to make good use ot our teet. We
decamped, but as we were no longer so lucky as to have a sledge, we
brought poor Brand away between us in spite of his terrible sufferings.
If I quitted my companions for a moment he thought I was going to
forsake them and made loud lamentations behind me, so that at length
the thread of my patience snapped asunder, and I wished him in hea-
ven ! His distress augmented when he saw that I was displeased, but
it may be imagined how this continual interpellation at my heels dis-
couraged me, and obstructed my endeavours to find a place of refuge.
At length we met a peasant whose language was a mixture of German
and Polish, who gave us a good reception when I offered him payment
for leave to partake of a meal, already prepared, of milk and potatoes.
On a sudden the children bolted in and announced to us that the coun-
try round was swarming with Cossacks ; next to them followed grown-
up persons who added the consoling intelligence that a regular hunt of
the French was determined upon, and that the Russians had sworn
they would burn any man's house over his head who should harbour
one of them. I vainly entreated the peasant to permit me to creep
into the hay-loft; but his wife wept, and bewailed so much the misfor-
tune which I was bringing upon her, that the husband remained firm
in his refusal. I declared to him that I was ready to go, but begged
him to take pity on my companion who, as he might well perceive, was
incapable of proceeding.
Lieutenant Brand was a very young man at the time ; that touched
the rustic pair, and the peasant decided upon his metamorphose by
means of a sheep-skin, which, in case of any inquiries, would enable
them to pass him off for a relation of the family. The lucky fellow
was posted in a corner of the stove. I left with him one of my double
napoleons, quitted the place, and went to one of the kretschams where
the prisoners were to assemble themselves. From this we were con-
veyed back to Ludwinowe, not to the former kretscham, which had
proved so unfortunate to me, but to the house of another Jew, in which
I immediately retreated to the stove, and drew myself into a corner. In
the morning I felt a most vehement hunger, and creeping down, there-
fore, from my Olympus, I hastened to the small apartment, where the
Jew had his counter. I drew the door to behind me, and, approaching
the churl, asked him for something to eat.
" When the gentleman pays down his money, the gentleman shall
have something to eat."
I ansAvered him that I, in truth, had no money, but possessed what
was money's worth, and would bargain with him about it if he could
assure me that we were safe from interruption.
" Quite safe," the villain rejoined ; and I, without suspicion of him,
took my watch cautiously out of its hiding-place, and gave it to him.
No sooner did the rascal hold it in his hands than he called in the Cos-
sacks, transferred my watch to them, and pointed out my person as prc-
bably deserving of another search. I darted through the crowd like
lightning, dealing my blows to the right and left, scrambled up my
stove, and, with hurried hands, committed the lust remnant of my
wealth my napoleons to a little box, and lay down to sleep.
OF THE ARMY OF WESTPHALIA. 29
What I had feared came to pass ; after a time I had a visit from the
Cossacks, who found nothing to take except my gold embroidered pa-
rade waistcoat. That, indeed, was no indifferent booty, for those waist-
coats cost forty crowns. They magnanimously left me my uniform,
and in spite of my losses in the watch and the waistcoat, I still rejoiced
at coming off so well. We were shortly afterwards taken back to Ma-
rienpol, where I again took up my quarters on the stove, so exhausted
by hunger and cold that I could scarcely stir from it. As the town, in
consequence of the pursuit or hunt after the French, swarmed with
fugitives, and every house was full from the loft to the cellar, the Cos-
sacks flitted from quarter to quarter, pillaging whatever they could.
Our turn came ; they stripped off the trowsers from my body, and
tugged so hard at a new silk handkerchief which a French commissary-
general an old man had wrapped round his neck, that they almost
strangled him. This brutality made my blood boil ; and, observing a
troop of regular cavalry riding by our house, I rushed out, and address-
ing myself to the officers, called to them in a loud voice,
" Gentlemen, is there a German among you ? " ,
A young officer quitted the troop immediately, and riding up to me,
said,
" I speak German, what is your desire ? "
" We are treated here," I cried, <e contrary to the rights of men and
of nations ; we are indeed prisoners, but we may claim treatment pur-
suant to the usages of war and the laws of humanity. I require of you
a safeguard."
" Believe me," replied the officer shrugging up his shoulders, " I feel
deeply and painfully for the bitterness of your lot, but we have no
power to protect you. The only advice I can offer you, and which
111 ay, perhaps, prove useful, since you have to do with an irregular,
cowardly band, is to keep close to your comrades and to defend your-
selves tooth and nail."
He cordially pressed my hand, rode back to his companions, and I
returned to my quarter, firmly resolved to follow the officer's counsel.
We accordingly barricaded the house-door, as well as that to the
stable, which invariably in all Jewish hotels there, communicates im-
mediately with the common room, and awaited the result. It soon ar-
rived, a fresh party of Cossacks made their appearance, but we received
them in so impressive a manner with brooms, sticks, or whatever came
to hand, that the cowardly crew left the field, and never allowed them-
selves to be seen by us again.
Shortly afterwards a Jewish agent, in company of a non-commission-
ed officer of the Cossacks, rapped at my window, calling out at the
same time, " Have you any Westphalians here ?" to which I responded
by a hearty " Yes I " and was beside him in a moment.
He informed me that several officers of those troops were together
at a different inn, and had commissioned him (the Jew) to learn
whether any of their countrymen might chance to be in some of the
other public-houses, so that being united they could better support
their common misfortune. Among them, to my great surprise, I found
eight captains of the fourth regiment, whom I had met at Wilna, and
among them my friend Von C , who was evidently sick, and much
pulled down. We stopped here several days. I changed away, with
great caution, one of my napoleons, and had three remaining, besides
my ducat, three out of perhaps fifteen hundred ; nevertheless, these
few were a treasure in my condition.
SO EARLY YEARS OP A VETERAN.
On the evening of the second day a handsome Don Cossack walked
into the room, who, holding out his open hand, came up first to me and
demanded money. I held out mine to him open in the same manner,
saying with a smile, " Take all you can find in it." The soldier laugh-
ed, went to my next neighbour, who shook his head ; upon which he
gazed keenly at us, and, calling to the landlord, ordered us brandy and
white bread. He then felt in his pocket, drew from it a crown which
he thrust into my hand with much good nature, took leave of us with a
smile, rapped once more on the window, and the next moment was in
his saddle and away.
I was endeavouring to hide my crown-piece, when an abominable
grey cap, with a leaden crucifix, peeped out from behind the stove, which
was soon followed by the owner of it, one of the Russian levee en masse,
who came towards me, and stretching out his hand said, " Give it to
me, Frenchman ! "
What could I do ? The crown, not yet warm in my hand, wander-
ed instantaneously to that of the Russian and my little present went
as lightly as it came.
After that appeared a soi-disant Russian officer, who informed us in
the German language, that he had been named as a sort of command-
ant there, and that his orders were to protect us wherever it was pos-
sible ; on which account he required us to place forthwith in his hands
until morning, whatever we wished to conceal, otherwise he could not
be answerable for our property, because there was great marching
through the town expected that very night. All assented to this pro-
posal, and he begged me to draw up a list of the articles to be confided
to him, which he would take care of. I did as he required ; however,
while I was writing, some mistrust of the man's integrity arose in my
mind, and I resolved not to put my napoleons in the list.
The others gave not only their cash but also their valuables and their
decorations; when it came to my turn and I made no offering, the
Russian said to me with a look of amazement, " And you have you
nothing ? " " Absolutely nothing," I replied ; and then, unconcernedly
concluding my list, prepared another for the Jew which he was to sign,
and our officer marched off with his collection of valuables, assuring us
at his departure that he should return on the following morning with
four regular dragoons ready to escort us to Prinn. Neither command-
ant nor dragoons appeared at the appointed hour, and my comrades had
thus been basely inveigled of their all.
Instead of regular dragoons, came, after the lapse of several hours,
Cossacks and Baschkirs to escort us, who placed the officers, four by
four, upon small sledges : however, it was a long while before we se't
out. Meantime, since robbing was so successful, everybody desired to
have a hand in it ; the country people, the townsfolk, the Jews, crowd-
ed together with this intention, and, as we were getting on the sledge,
we were surrounded by a flock of these rapacious vultures. A tall, ro-
bust son of Israel aimed, to his misfortune, a snatch at my side-pocket,
but scarcely had he laid his hand on me before I, already irritated at our
long, unnecessary delay in the benumbing cold, and at our altogether
not very enviable condition, jumped up and gave the audacious mis-
creant such a box on the ear as made him spin round like a top, before
tumbling down in the snow, which was stained with the blood that
streamed from his mouth and nose. The Cossacks, instead of taking
his part and revenging his injuries upon me, almost burst their sides
OF THE ARMY OF WESTPHALIA. 31
with laughter. Their lively gestures expressed the utmost satisfaction
at my proceeding, and one described to the other the exquisite joke
with evident pleasure. They probably considered the Jew's attempt
as an encroachment upon their own privileges, and my summary pun-
ishment of it therefore as perfectly just and conformable to their view
of the subject.
During the whole journey our way had been through a forest, which
afforded us some defence against the sharp, biting air, and at night we
were quartered upon some peasants. My surtout and cloak had been
taken from me at Marienpol, and, in order to replace those articles of
apparel, I threw a Russian sheepskin over my uniform. Being always
on my guard, I crept, as soon as the straw was prepared in our night-
quarter, close under the stove ; for I knew that the boors now were
more to be feared than the hitherto plundering Cossacks, since upon the
slightest resistance, they immediately put their victim to death. I
awoke also in the night to a savage spectacle which was going on in
the chamber, and as I cautiously looked round to see what was the
matter, I saw some boors in company with a Cossack, who were strip-
ping my comrades. In the uncertain glimmer of a dim light which was
burning on the floor, I remained undiscovered by them, and happily,
therefore, kept possession of my clothes.
The next morning we were taken on to Prinn, and found it full of
Russian billeted soldiers. Notwithstanding the tremendous cold, we
were left standing in the market-place, whereby my poor comrades,
nearly naked as they were, suffered inexpressibly. One of them, Cap-
tain Sehwnidit, ventured to stray a little from the rest of us, and was
seized in a moment by some marauders who took from him the last most
indispensable articles of his dress. Our fury at this sight may be con-
ceived ; but each of us contributed in proportion to his means to clothe
anew our ignominiouslv-bereft comrade, and I spared him my uniform.
We called again and again for our Cossacks, who were carousing in
the houses, and as they at length made their appearance, and we de-
manded whether they had procured lodging for us, they explained to
us, through signs and words, that the Russian soldiery would not by any
means allow us to stop in that place, and that we must go further on.
And now a fresh misfortune revealed itself; our boors had taken ad-
vantage of an unguarded moment, and made off with the sledges, it is
true there was no baggage in them, but they were most requisite for
our sick and wounded.
Trembling with cold and hunger we again set forwards, our Cossacks
had been put in good humour by several doses of brandy, and drove us
along quietly like a flock of sheep, among which I, as the most robust,
took the precedence, and, God be thanked, with a yet unbroken spirit.
The invalids their comrades placed in the middle, with poor Von C ,
my before-mentioned friend, who was near death. The condition of
this unhappy sufferer may well indeed have touched our leaders, for
they sought by half-words and signs to make us understand that it was
only one league to a gentleman's house, where we should be quartered
for the night. This prospect revived, if not our strength, at least our
efforts, and ere long we saw before us the house, which is named Ro-
duppen ; but alas ! we remarked to our sorrow, that the house was gar-
risoned by Russian soldiers.
LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES.
BY EYERARD CLIVE.
" So you really think, Arabella, that hot love is all nonsense ? "
" Indeed I do ; and your attempt at making it has confirmed my
opinion."
This was all I "took by my motion, ' in trying to influence the heart
of the prettiest pedant that ever lived, since the days when Lady Jane
Grey preferred reading Plato to going out with her Majesty's stag-
Yet it is a shame to call Arabella Livesay a pedant, though her
uncle, the Scotch Professor, did help to educate her, and did teach her
Latin and Greek. Unless you knew her very well, you would never
find this out. She is one of the merriest talkers in the world, and cer-
tainly in her society
Cessat
Tecum Graia loqui tecum Romana vetustas."
She has not even anything classical in her profile. Her " retrousse"
nose disdains both the Roman and the Grecian ; and her bright black
eyes profess no allegiance to the 0ea y\avKa>7ris Afyvr].
I have the claims of cousinhood with Arabella. She is to me one of
those " soft semi-sisterly things" whose familiar fascinations Praed has
described so feelingly. We were for a few weeks fellow-students, in
my schoolboy times, when I passed one or two vacations in Scotland ;
that is now a good many years ago, nor have we seen much of each
other in the meanwhile, but we sometimes touch on the old scholastic
topics, and a peculiarly lively way of treating dead languages Arabella
has.
She had ordered me to write her some verses, and, after hesitating
for some time between modern and antique, I thought that by way of
compromise, I would try rhyming Latin ; so I began
Bella puella, Munda, polita,
Dulcis ut raella, Carior vita,
Cur, Arabella, Moriar ita
Rejicis me ? Diligo te.
She looked over the stanzas, and hummed them to the air of Rous-
seau's Dream. I read in her arch glance her coming criticisms, and
hastened to deprecate them to the tune of Garry Owen.
Will the harp give its deepest and tenderest tone
To the hand that is carelessly over it thrown ?
From the lip can the fulness of melody spring
When coldly and formally called on to sing ?
Oh ! 'tis only when loving and loved ones inspire,
That the soul finds its genius, and music its fire.
Our words, to be felt, from the feelings must flow ;
From the heart they must come to the heart if they go,
It is not that thou hast no magic to charm,
It is not that thou hast no beauty to warm.
Oh ! thrilling those eyes in their sunshine must be,
But their starlight falls coldly though brightly on me.
LOITERIN'GS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES. S3
"A truce to your apologies, Everard. I suppose you mean to say
that there can be no poetry without hot love ; if so, I am sorry for
poetry, for hot love is all nonsense."
This remark stopped my singing, and led to the question and answer
which I have first recorded.
" I should like to try to convert you, Arabella," I rejoined, after a
short interval of silence.
" Well, I will give you leave to try," she answered, " provided you
prove to me that hot love has ever really existed in the past, before you
set yourself up as an example of it in the present. There now, Eve-
rard, you were complaining of want of occupation. I have found you
a pleasant employment. Go and collect your authorities, and add the
best English versions you can, as I suppose they will be Polyglott.
However, that will relieve the monotony of your common-places."
Armed with this permission and commission, I sought my library.
The sight of it re-assured me. " There are warm hearts in the old
books," I thought
" Spirat adhuc amor,
Vivuntque commissi calores
JEolifn fidibus puellse."
The quotation has proved a suggestive one, for it has made me think
of Sappho, and surely the most impassioned poetry in which love ever
found a voice, is that which was first echoed by
" The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece !
Where burning Sappho loved and sang."
But to try to Anglicize the finest relic of the Leucadian love-martyr,
is a hopeless effort. Ambrose Phillips was at one time praised for nis
"Blest as th' immortal gods is he," &c.
version of the immortal
3?aivTai /xot Krjvos T<roff footo-iv, K. r.X.
but his tame octo-syllabics are no more like the original in fervour,
than a cucumber is like a capsicum.
The best test of the inimitable beauty of the real words of Sappho,
is to compare them with the paraphrase which Catullus made ; and
where we find Catullus to have failed, we moderns may be well content
to give in. Tennyson evidently had Sappho's stanzas in his heart when
he composed his " Fatima." He has some of the ^gaean warmth, but he
blazes into extravagance instead of keeping to the earnest simplicity
of his model.
There is another very beautiful little fragment of Sappho's of which
Moore has introduced a pretty imitation in his "Evenings in Greece."
Let us bring Lesbos and Erin into approximation
rXv/ceta /iarep, ov n O my sweet mother ! 'tis in vain,
Avviip-ai KpeKcw TOV IcrroV) I cannot weave as once I wove,
Ho6co a/i?io-a TraiSos So wildered is my heart and brain
BpaSij/ai/ / 'A(f)po8irav. With thinking of that youth I love."
Moore, in his note, quotes a good remark by Warton on Sappho's
lines that they most truly represent the languor and " listlessness of a
person deeply in love." Much, however, of this charm comes from
their softness of cadence and simplicity of expression ; qualities rarely
preserved by a translator, but which endear the old words to our me-
VOL, xix. D
34 LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES.
mories to an extent which it would be hard to explain to one before
whom we were obliged to place our favourites in the altered garb o : a
new lano-uao-e. Sometimes the recollection of one of these snatches oi
sweet son* brings others of far different dates, and breathed in other
tongues, before the mind, though it is difficult to describe the associa-
tion of ideas by which they are so linked together. Thus this little
fragment of Sappho always recalls to me the refrain of one of Beran-
ger's most beautiful chansons, in which he describes a poor French girl,
toiling night and day at her spinning-wheel that her scanty earnings
may serve to alleviate the lot of her lover who, has been taken in a sea-
fight, and is a prisoner of war in England
" File, file, pauvre Marie,
Pour secourir le prisonnier,
File, file, pauvre Marie,
File pour le prisonnier."
The spirit of patient fondness and self-devotion, expressed by Be-
ranger in this sweet though sad strain, is not, however, quite that
which forms my present subject, though I can hardly resist the temp-
tation of introducing his beautiful stanzas in company with Sappho's
lyrics.
There are not so many passages in the best classics in which hot love
is poured forth, as one might at first expect to find. The truth is, that
hot love and deep love are by no means necessarily identical. Some-
times, as in Sappho's case, they coincide, but the blaze of hot love is
often like " the young man's wrath," which the old Scotch proverb tells
us " is as straw on fire." The deeper and more enduring, though less
violent feelings, the one which the Greek poets most often pourtray.
The wild infatuation of Paris and Helen is not thrown into dialogue
or elaborately described by Homer. Whenever he brings Helen be-
fore us she always speaks with sorrow and shame of her elopement ;
but the gentle tenderness of Andromache and Penelope is breathed
forth in all its beauty. Even the passion of Calypso for Ulysses is
brought before us in the " Odyssey" less in its violence than in its sad-
ness. There is one short outbreak of anguish when the Island-Goddess
is first bidden by Hermes to let the many-wandering man, whom she
has succoured and cherished, depart from her ; but in her farewell-
meeting with her mortal lover no feeling but gentle, unselfish, sad
affection finds utterance from her lips. In her anxiety at his coming
perils, she almost forgets her own bereavement. Her wish is for
" Peace to his heart, though another's it be."
Her only remonstrance softens into the fondest blessing.
It is strange that Feuelon should have so utterly failed in compre-
hending the loving, loveable character of Calypso. When he introduces
her m the "Telemaque" he makes her a hasty, violent virago, without
any of the grace or gentleness of the Homeric Goddess. Poor L. E. L.
understood the spirit of the " Odyssey" far better than the learned
Archbishop of Cambray ever did. In one of her sweetest poems,
published a little before she left England, she has given us a truly
Hellenic sketch of Calypso sorrowing with undying unchanging love
for her long-departed hero
LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES. 35
" He is with the dead ; but she
Weepeth on eternally,
In that lone and lovely island
'Mid the far-off southern seas."
From the bent of the genius of Euripides, and from the character of
the attacks made on him in the " Ranae," one might expect to find his
pages abundant in love-declarations such as we do not look for in the
other two tragedians. This is, however, not the case. Euripides, even
in the most volcanic of his dramas, avoids such outpourings, and makes
passion reveal itself by struggles and sufferings rather than by words.
The mode by which in the " Hippolytus," the guilty phrenzy of
Phaedra is imaged to the mind in all its intensity of wretchedness,
shows the most consummate dramatic skill, as well as deep knowledge
of the workings of the heart. We see Phaedra sick in body and spirit,
self-upbraiding, glowingly describing, and longing to seek the scenes
and sports that are frequented by him whom she loves, yet shrinking
from his presence, and dreading the very mention of his name : and
when her secret is wrung from her, and she finds that she loves in vain,
her resolution is prompt and stern, to die and be revenged, rather than
live and supplicate. Racine makes his Phedre harangue Hippolytus
on her " grande passion" in a page or two of goodly Alexandrines, far
better calculated to set affection asleep than to excite it. And Seneca
in treating the same subject, had set him the example of a similar set-
ting forth of stupid sentimentalities.
The fact is, that the avowal of passionate love in language fervent
yet not absurd, simple yet not silly, strong yet not vulgar, is one of the
most difficult feats of authorship. The old writers, and many moderns
after them, usually attempt it by a mixture of flames and darts, snows
and flints, with bold wishes for the annihilation of time and space ; and
the gentleman or lady, as the case may be, almost invariably announces
that it is a mistake to suppose that " I'objet aime" was reared in an ordi-
nary human nursery ; inasmuch as so hard-hearted a personage must de-
cidedly have been suckled by tigresses, which said hairy wet-nurses, we
learn on the same authority, are principally procured from Hyrcania.
When Ovid writes the imaginary loves of others, he constantly ideals in
these cold hyperboles but when he tells us his own, his language comes
from the heart, and goes to the heart. Take for instance the beautiful
lines where, after reproaching his false fair one with her perfidies, he
o,vns that he still loves and ever must love on. He wishes indeed-
" Aut formosa fores minus aut minus improba vellem ;"
but his last vow is
" Perque tuam faciem magni mini numinis instar,
Perque tuos oculos qui rapuere meos,
QUIDQUID ERIS, MEA SEMPER ERIS."
Does not this look like the original of the celebrated
" I ask not, I know not, if guilt 's in that heart,
But I know that I love thee, whatever thou art." ?
Moore seems to have studied Catullus more than Ovid among the
Latin amatory writers; and, perhaps the similarity between these
passages may be unintentional. Putting, however, the question of ori-
ginality aside, the Roman's affection seems to me to out-top the Irish-
man's. Ovid gives the lady carte blanche for the future, as well as a
bill of indemnity for the pas't.
n 2
36 LOITERIMGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES.
There is a very sweet plaintive fragment of old Scotch song, but
little known, though the old melody to which it belongs is equally
sweet and plaintive with the words, in which the betrayed lover tells
his enduring submission to love for her who has wronged him.
" Thou art gane awa% thou art gane awa',
Thou art gane awa' from me, Mary.
Nor friends nor I could make thee stay,
Thou hast cheated them and me, Mary.
i( I little thought we e'er should part,
Or aught could alter thee, Mary ;
Thou art still the mistress of my heart,
Think what you will of me, Mary.
I have wandered from Ausonia to Caledonia ; let us now return to
the debateable land between the Venusians and the Apulians.
The classical lover who consults his Horace for the expression of
deep feeling, will most assuredly be disappointed. Horace was a Rat
and a Parasite, and how could such a being retain any earnestness of
devotion towards man or woman ? There are, however, two passages
in him, and only two, in which true pathetic feeling seems to gush
from his inmost heart. One is the melancholy expostulation in the
epistle to Mectenas, in which he bewails the departure of the fresh
poetic impulses of youth-
" Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes," &c.
the other is at the end of the first ode of the fourth book. I mean the
lines beginning " Me nee fcemina." The next line proceeds
14 Jam nee spes animi credula mutui, Inter verha cadit lingua silentio ?
Nee certare juvat mero, Nocturnis te ego somniis
Nee vincire novis tempora floribus. JanTcaptum teneo, jam volucrem se-
Sed cur heu ! Ligurine, cur quor
Manat rara meas lachryma per genas ? Te per gramina Martii
Cur facunda parum decoro Campi, te per aquas, dure, volubiles."
So sang He of Latinm ; " Romanse fidicen lyrae" as he termed him-
self, claiming also to be looked on as first fiddle, in insolent disregard
of the merits of his far more poetical predecessor Catullus. As we
have no direct proof that in this instance Horace was filching from the
Greek, we will give him the benefit of the presumption of innocence,
and look on the beauties of this passage as his own. A friend of mine
has imitated this passage of Horace in the metre of the original. I
wonder, indeed, that English Asclepiads are not more often attempted.
The cadence is extremely beautiful, and the addition of rhyme, though
difficult, is by no means impossible or incongruous.
" Me no longer the witchery
Of the beautiful face soft in its radiance,
Or the tremulous ecstacy
Of the credulous heart's mutual confidence,
Or the wine in its ruddiness,
Or the flowery wreath's odorous coronal,
Fill with th' usual happiness.
Cold my heart has become cold and insensible.
But why, why, alas ! lovely one,
Steals th' unconscious tear heavily over me ?
Why thus silently droops my tongue
In the midst of discourse, eloquent formerly ?
LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES. 87
Night, the mother of dark-winged
Dreams, gives thee to my sight. Fondly I follow thee
O'er the plains and the ocean led.
Why, O beautiful one, wilt thou not pity me ?"
The epithet " Mother of dark-winged dreams/' which is here ap-
plied to night, comes out of a fine passage in the Hecuba of Euripides,
who there applies it to the earth
'& rrorvia X0wv,
ovelpav.
Indeed, throughout this imitation, the metre of Horace is much more
closely followed than his meaning.
I like most of the love-poetry of Virgil as little as I like the gene-
rality of that of Horace. There is, indeed, some pathos in the catas-
trophe of Orpheus and Eurydice, as told in the fourth Georgic ; and the
allusion in the third to the fate of Leander is beautifully introduced
" Quid juvenis, magnum cui versat in ossibus ignem
Durus Amor ? Nempe abruptis turbata procellis
Nocte natat caeca serus freta ; quern super ingens
Porta tonat coeli, et scopulis illisa reclamant
^,quora ; nee miseri possunt revocare parentes,
Nee moritura super crudeli funere virgo."
Virgil condenses his ideas and imagery with a degree of power and
artistic skill that sets translation at defiance. I prefer illustrating the
Latin by quoting some of the fine allusions to the same legend in the
beginning of the second canto of Byron's " Bride of Abydos."
"The winds are high on Helle's wave And clouds aloft and tides below,
As on that night of stormy water, With signs and sounds forbade to go ;
When Love, who sent, forgot to save He could not see, he would not hear
The young, the beautiful, the brave, Or sound or sign foreboding fear.
The only hope of Sestos' daughter. His eye but saw that light of love,
Oh ! when alone along the sky The only star it hail'd above ;
Her turret torch was blazing high. His ear but rang with Hero's song,
Though rising gale and breaking foam, c Ye waves divide not lovers long.'
And shrieking sea-birds warn'd him The tale is old, but love anew
home, May nerve young hearts to prove as
true."
It is, however, on the fourth book of the ^Eneid that Virgil's merits
as a love-writer mainly rest ; and the episode in that book, except so far
as regards the magnificent foreshadowings of the wars between Car-
thage and Rome, and the Punic Queen's invocation of her coming
avenger, Hannibal, is to my mind a most unpleasant failure. Virgil
certainly makes us look on his sanctified hero, JEneas, as a shabby
scoundrel, but he awakens in us little human interest for Dido.
The true " Di Mnjores" of Roman song are Lucretius and Catullus.
They are inferior, indeed, in artistic skill, but in genius and pathos
they are immeasurably superior to the Augustan writers. The descrip-
tion in the beginning of Lucretius of Venus asking from Mars a cessa-
tion of war for the Romans, is unrivalled in beauty and power. I can-
not say that I concur in the praises usually given to Dryden's transla-
tion of it. He misses much of the energy, and nearly all the elegance
of his original, and imparts a heavy taint of grossness from which the
divine Latin is wholly free. Byron has imitated this passage closely
and beautifully in his stanzas on the Medicean Venus in the fourth
canto of " Childe Harold." Still, Lucretius is unsurpassable
38 LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES.
" Belli fera meenera Mavors
Armipotens regit, in gremium qui saepe tuum se
Rejicit, fEterno devictus vulnere araoris ;
Atque ita suspiciens tereti cervice reposta
Pascit amore avidos inhians in te, Dea, visus,
Eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ore.
Hunc tu, Diva, tuo recubantem corpore sancto
Circumfusa super, suaves ex ore loquelas
Funde, petens placidam Romania, incluta, pacem."
What a glorious subject for Etty these lines would make ! A pic-
ture on it from him might rival the statue which brought Lucretius
into Byron's head and heart, and drew from him his hymn to Aphro-
dite
" Appearedst thou not at Paris in this guise ?
Or to more deeply blest Anchises ? or
In all thy perfect goddess-ship, when lies
Before thee thine own vanquished lord of war ?
And gazing on thy face as toward a star
Laid on thy lap, his eyes to thee upturn,
Feeding on thy sweet cheek ! while thy lips are
With lava-kisses melting while they burn,
Showered on his eyelids, brow, and mouth, as from an urn.
Glowing and circumfused in speechless love,
Their full divinity inadequate
That feeling to express or to improve,
The gods become as mortals, and man's fate
Has moments like their brightest."
Let us now look to some of the sweet love-passages of Catullus. I
will take the " Vivamus, mea Lesbia," the Acme and Septimius, and a
third less known than its companions, but full of the deepest feeling.
I have got a translation of the " Vivamus" from the same quarter
whence I was supplied with my Horatian Asclepiads, and with my
imitation of the Acme and Septimius. I have myself framed some
English stanzas to follow the third gem from Verona, but many of the
ideas in my fabrication are too modernized to make it deserving the
name even of a paraphrase
Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus ; My Lesbia, let us live and love ;
Rumoresque senum severiorum And should th' ill-natured old reprove,
Omnes unius aestimemus assis. Oh let not that our spirits move !
Soles occidere et redire possunt ; The sun that sets again will rise ;
Nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux, But we, when life's short daylight dies,
Nox est perpetua una dormienda. In endless night must close our eyes.
Da mi basia mille deinde centum : Kiss me a hundred thousand times,
Dein mille altera, dein secunda centum, Another hundred thousand times,
Dein usque altera mille, deinde centum. And a third hundred thousand times.
Dein, cum millia multa fecerimus, Then after many thousand kisses
Conturbabimus ilia, ne sciamus, The reckoning we'll confuse with more,
Aut ne quis malus invidere possit, Lest any envy us our blisses
Cum tantum sciat esse basiorum. On counting Lesbia's kisses o'er.
Acmen Septimius suos amores Septimius folding to his breast
Tenens in gremio, Mea, inquit, Acme, Acme, his love, his spirit's joy,
Ni te perdite amo, atque amare porro " My own dear Acme," said the boy,
Omnes sum assidue paratus annos, Unless I desperately love thee,
LOITERINGS ALONG LOVK-PASSAGES.
Quantum qui pote plurimum perire j
Solus in Libya, Indiave tosta,
Caesio veniam obvius leoni.
Hocut dixit Amor sinistram ut ante
Dextram sternuit approbationem.
At Acme, leviter caput reflectens,
Et dulcis pueri ebrios ocellos
Illo purpureo ore suaviata,
Sic, inquit, mea vita, Septimille,
Hinc uno domino usque serviamus,
Ut multo mihi major acriorque
Ignis mollibus ardet in medullis.
Hoc ut dixit Amor sinistram ut ante
Dextram sternuit approbationem.
Nunc ab auspicio bono profecti
Mutuis animis amant, amantur.
Unem Septimius misellus Acmen
Mavult quam Syrias Britanniasque :
Uno in Septimio fidelis Acme
Fecit delicias libidinesque,
Quis ullos homines beatiores
Vidit ? quis Venerem auspicatiorem ?
Aye, and will love thee through the rest
Of life, oh may I view above me
The lion's blue eye-balls, and expire
On desert A trie's sands of fire !"
Then Acme, ere she made reply,
Bending her head back gracefully,
With that rosy mouth of hers
Press'd his eyes with fondest kiss,
Eyes all drunken with their bliss,
And sighed, " My life, Septimius dear,
May Love, who rules the universe,
Blend our hearts forever here !
As he perceives the truest flame
To penetrate my inmost frame."
Love heard the wish, Love heard the oath,
And hovering near, confirmed them both,
And now, with mutual heart and mind
They love, and are beloved again :
O'er worlds Septimius would not reign
If Acme were to be resigned ;
And Acme deems life's every joy
Placed in th' affections of her boy.
Oh, where was love more true than this ?
What lovers e'er knew greater bliss ?
Si qua recordanti benefacta priora voluptas
Est homini, cum se cogitat esse pium,
Nee sanctam violasse fidem, nee foedere in ullo
Divum ad fallendos numine abusum homines ;
Multa parata manent in longa aetate, Catulle,
Ex hoc ingrato gaudia amore tibi.
Nam quaecunque homines bene quoiquam aut dicere possunt,
Aut facere, haec a te dictaque factaque sunt.
Omnia quae ingratae perierunt credita mend.
Quare jam te cur amplius excrucias ?
Quin te animo obfirmas, teque istinc usque reducis,
Et, Dis invitis, desinis esse miser ?
Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem ;
Difficile est j verum hoc qualibet efficias.
Una salus haec est, hoc est tibi pervincendum.
Hoc facias, sive id non pote sive pote.
O DJ, si vostrum est misereri, aut si quibus unquam
Extrema jam ipsa in morte tulistis opera,
Me miserum aspicite ; et, si vitam puriter egi,
Eripite hanc pestem perniciemque mihi,
Quae mihi subrepens imos ut torpor in artus
Expulit ex omni pectore laetitias.
Non jam illud quaero contra ut me diligat ilia,
Aut, quod non potis est, esse pudica velit ;
lj)se valere opto, et tetrum hunc deponere morbum.
O Di, reddite mi hoc pro pietate mea.
If retrospect of former faith
Is sunshine to the breast ;
To know we ne'er have breathed a lie,
And not a taint of treachery
Upon our life can rest ;
Perhaps as Memory mellows on,
And Time plies fast his wing,
This love, with which I love in vain,
This present source of spite and pain
Some soothing thoughts may bring.
For what is there in word or deed
That 's generous, just, and kind,
Which I have left undone, unsaid.
All, all is wasted, fallen, dead
On her ungrateful mind.
Then shake this foolish fondness off,
And be thyself again.
Why cling to her thou must despise ?
Away with Love's absurdities
Away with self-sought pain.
40 LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES.
Alas ! it is a fearful thing Ye gods, who mercifully view
From an old love to part, Humanity's distress,
To suddenly discard, disown Ye who can rescue from the grave,
Old feelings that for years have grown. Look on me now, look down, and save
And ripened round the heart. Me from this wretchedness.
It is indeed a fearful thing, I ask not to he loved again
And yet it must be done : All hope of that is o'er :
Each voice of safety, duty, fame, The power to raise myself above
All bid me trample out this flame This wilful, woful, weakening love
And leave th' unworthy one. I ask, and ask no more.
I must own that I sometimes distrust my own judgment respecting
Virgil, when I recollect the boundless admiration expressed for him by
Dante ; for I look upon Dante as one of the very greatest masters of
the human heart. Byron was quite right in his indignant refutation of
Schlegel's shallow criticism on the great Florentine. Nothing can be
more absurd than the German's assertion that " Dante's chief defect is
a want of gentle feelings ; " and Byron took the best mode of exposing
the absurdity, by giving the English reader his exquisite translation of
the episode of Francesca of Rimini. Macaulay has poured forth an
eloquent and merited eulogium over this scene ; and indeed, all litera-
ture might be searched in vain to find a picture of human love " strong-
er even than death" which is more fearfully and beautifully wrought
than that in the fifth canto of the " Inferno." Among the guilty Spirits
whom the poet sees in the second region of the place of suffering, he re-
cognises two, whom even the scourge of the hurricane, beneath which
they are to be tempest-tost for ever, cannot sever from each other's
side. These are Francesca and her lover Paolo. At Dante's invoca-
tion they approach him together*
" Quali columhe dal disio chiamate,
Con 1* ali aperte e ferme al dolce nido
Volan per 1' aer dal voler portate."
"As doves
By fond desire invited on wide wings
And firm to their sweet nest returning home,
Cleave the air, Avafted by their will along." CARY.
The Spirit of Paolo weeps in silent agony ; while Francesca, in reply
to Dante's questioning, tells in a few sweet simple lines her life, her
love, her violent death. She utters no reproach against the sharer of
her sin and suffering. She says that she was fair, that she was beloved
by the Spirit beside her, and that she loved again ; that she still loves
even in that place of torments, and that she and her lover were brought
to one death by love
" Amor, che al cor gentil ratto s' apprende,
Prese costui della bella persona
Che mi fu tolta ; e il modo ancor m'offende.
Amor, che a null' amato amar perdona,
Mi prese del costui piacer si forte
Che, come vedi, ancor non m' abbandona.
Amor condusse noi al una morte.' '
Dante asks her what were the first revealings of their affection; she
tells the ruinous read of the romance, and even then, in pointing to
the giver of the fatal kiss, she fondly repeats that he is never to be
parted from her. Byron's English here aJrr.ost equals the ltd an-
LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES. 41
" ' Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio Noi leggevamo un giorno per diletto
Meno costoro al doloroso passo/ Di Lancilotto, come Amor lo strinse:
Poi mi rivolsi a loro, e parlai io p So1 ! favamo e senza alcun sospetto.
E comincai Francesca, i tuoi martiri Per pm fiate gh occlu ci sospinse
A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio. Q ue11 * lettura e 'forrocci il wso :
]\Ia dimmi : al tempo de dolci sospiri Ma 8ol un Pto fu quel che ci vmse.
A che e come concedette Amore Q u _f do ]egS< il ^siato nso
Che conoschesti i dubbiosi desiri . Esser baciato da cptanto amante,
Ed ella a me, Nessun maggior dolore . Q uestl > che , mai dl me non fia dl
Che ricordarsi del tempo felice La bocca ma bacio tutto tremante :
NeDa miseria ; e cio sa il tuo dottore. Galeotto fu il hbro, e chi lo scrisse-
Ma, se a conoscer la prima radice Q uel 8 lor P m non vl leggemmo
Del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto avante.
Faro come colui che piange e dice.
" c How many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstacies
Led these their evil fortune to fulfil.'
And then I turned unto their side my eyes,
And said, " Francesca, thy sad destinies
Have made me sorrow till the tears arise.
But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,
By what, and how, thy love to passion rose,
So as his dim desires to recognize?"
Then she to me " The greatest of all woes
Is to remind us of our happy days
In misery ; and that thy teacher knows.
But if to learn our passion's first root preys
Upon thy spirit with such sympathy,
I will do even as he who weeps and says.
We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,
Of Lancilot, how love enchained him too.
We were alone, quite unsuspiciously ;
But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hue
Wholly discoloured by that reading were ;
But one point only wholly us overthrew ;
When we read the long-sighed-for smile of her
To be thus kissed by such a fervent lover,
He, who from me can be divided ne'er
Kissed my mouth, trembling in the act all over.
Accursed was the book, and he who wrote !
That day no further leaf did we uncover."
From the great Padre Alighieri, I now betake myself to one of the
chiefs of the " Giovine Italia/' Guerazzi, an eloquent and fervid though
a wild and unequal writer. I paraphrased some time ago the opening
of one of the chapters of his " Assedio Di Firenze," which powerfully
puts forth the workings and the regrets of a very hot and very short
love. The original is too long for quotation. It may be found in the
second volume of the Italian.
" There was a time when we loved each other ! When I first saw
thee in all the joyous glow of youth and beauty, I thought that I had
already known and loved thee long. I then believed that Plato had
penetrated a divine mystery, when he taught that souls which are des-
tined to love one another, are before birth impressed in Heaven with
the image of the being which each is to love.
" When was it that I first saw thee ? It was in the spring of life,
on a morning of spring, as, with drooping eyelids, I lay half gazing on
the world without, half dreaming of the world within, a sunbeam, after
blessing the family of plants and flowers, rested on my brow, and I saw
thee amid that flood of radiance hovering like a spirit of light and love.
saw thee I felt thee in the song of the bird enamoured of the rose,
42 LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE-PASSAGES.
in the incense that ascended to the Majesty on high, in the dim voices
of the groves, in the gurgle of the fountain. All creatures, all things,
all deeds, all thoughts that were beautiful and good, filled my soul with
thee. Thy spirit was to me the vital principle of All. Blended with
all existences, it revealed to me their secret charms, as a ray of light re-
news and multiplies the prism of its colours in the countless dew-drops
that tremble on the leaves at dawn.
" One glance sufficed. At the first impulse our souls, thrilling with the
electric glow of love,interchanged their mortal dwellings. Thoubecamest
the living soul within my bosom ; I was the living soul within thine.
"Dost thou remember? I placed thy head here on this bosom, and
the pulse of thy temples throbbed in unison with the beating of my
heart so closely pressed that the warmth of my heart made thy cheek
red, and my very life glowed and flushed through thee. We spoke
not, we sighed not, we scarcely breathed. We plighted no vows : we
believed that eternity would not be long enough for our love, that our
feelings were more immortal than our souls.
" Time, old experienced Time, who knew that life would last long
enough to see the death of our love, Time laughed us to scorn. Time,
that cancels generations and sweeps away sepulchres and memories,
why should he leave untouched a sentiment of the heart ? Has he not
wasted and effaced the deep-cut characters graven on the granite of the
East ?
" Who will point out the vestige of the eagle's path across the sky ?
Who will find the path of the serpent's gliding over the rock ? Who
will recognise in our spirits any trace that mutual love once dwelt
there ? Alas ! alas ! ashes attest the existence of the fatal fires.
" Oh ! why did we so utterly drain the cup of delight ? He who
wishes that love should endure in his breast, must sip, not drink deep,
of joy. It is not that the dregs are bitter; but after the first long
ample draught the remnant seems shallow and insipid.
" Shall I call thee faithless ? Shall I invoke Nemesis to punish thy
inconstancy ? No ! Thou hast an equal right to reproach me ; thou
mayest invoke the same avenger upon my head. Shall I speak hollow
words of comfort ? or shall we turn to the ashes of our affections and
try if any spark yet linger among the embers ? No ! rather let us call
on the winds of heaven to scatter and waft them away. The mind has
no power to resuscitate the heart. Come, let us sacrifice to Oblivion."
There are some unpleasant truths in this passage, but it seems to
have been a case of mutual decay of affection ; and that is not the
worst of miseries. The extreme of wretchedness arises when only one
party leaves off loving, and the other one immediately begins to" love
doubly, as if feeling bound to support its own share and the other's too.
The pangs of this monopoly have often been the theme of prose and
verse ; but the most touching passage that I ever read on this topic in
a work of fiction, is in a novel called " Violet," which was published
anonymously some ten or eleven years ago. I have never met with any
second work purporting to come frcm the author; but he (or she, for I
suspect a feminine origin,) who can express feelings so well, need pub-
lish neither secretly nor seldom. The passage I mean is the fol-
lowing
" To live but for one, to dream of him, to speak of him with rapture,
to thrill when the music of his name is heard, to know that heaven is
in his presence, to exist by his remembrance, to listen for his very
LOITERINGS ALONG LOVE- PASSAGES. 43
breath because his breathing is more to you than your own ; to worship
his faults, to know them and to love them with infatuation, to devote
your whole nature, your aspirations, your hopes, your thoughts, your
whole soul, to surrender all, to cast all at the shrine of one object, and
to know that suddenly it is withdrawn from you and you may never
see it more : O reader ! if thou hast been spared such an anguish,
think not that thy burden in life has been great be not misled, over-
rate not your afflictions, or rashly compare them with such as these."
It has been often said that love is the next step after pity, and when
the process is gone through in this order, it may be a pleasant gradation
enough ; but the reversal of the order, when the lover begins " revocare
gradus," and steps down from loving to pitying, is very unsatisfactory.
Benjamin Constant has a well- drawn scene in his " Adolphe," where
the lady is desolee at perceiving the cooling of Adolphe's ardour, and
he, shocked at the effect of his own tickleness, endeavours to re-assure
her by redoubled vows and protestations : she tells him
" ' Adolphe, vous vous trompez sur vous meme ; vous etes genereux,
vous vous devouez a moi parceque je suis persecuted ; vous croyez
avoir de 1'amour, et vous n'avez que de la pitie.'
" ' Pourquoi pronon9a t'elle ces mots funestes ? pourquoi me revela
t'elle un secret que je voulais ignorer ? Je m'efforcai de la rassurer,
j'y parvins peutetre ; mais la verite avait traverse mon ame.' "
The desolation of desertion, the daily calamity of hundreds, has often
been described. Carlyle, in one of his essays, quotes a single stanza of
Burns, which, as he truly says, brings it before the mind in all its vivid
intensity. This stanza is
" The pale moon is setting beyond the white wave,
And time is setting with me, O !
Farewell false friends, false lover farewell,
I '11 nae mair trouble them nor thee, O !"
There is another single stanza which may be quoted from a very dif-
ferent writer, which also embodies a most complete image of forlorn
suffering. It is in Keats's " Endymion" -
<l Beneath my palm-trees by the river side
I sat a-weeping. In the whole world wide
There was no one to ask me why I wept,
And so I kept
Brimming the water-lily cups with tears
Cold as my fears."
It may, however, be doubted whether in these cases the suffering is
all on one side. Benjamin Constant was in the right when he said,
" C'est un affreux malheur de n'etre pas aime quand on aime, mais c'cn
est un bien grand d'etre aime avec passion quand on n'aime plus."
This passage in his "Adolphe" gave me the leading idea of the follow-
ing stanzas, of which all I will say is, that I believe they will come home
to most men,
" Septimum quorum trepidavit aetas
Claudere lustrum."
" They say there is anguish in loving in vain ;
But oh ! 'tis a deeper and gloomier pain
To be ardently loved by the fond and true-hearted,
When the power of returning that love has departed.
For our feelings once faded revive not at will,
We upbraid our own coldness, yet cold are we still :
While the heart, whose young love we so long were awaking,
With that love unrequited before us is breaking."
GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES, AND GAMESTERS:
AN ANECDOTAL ACCOUNT OP PLAY, HOUSES OP PLAY,
AND PLAY-MEN.
GAMING-HOUSES had for a considerable period, met with little or no
check or interruption to their profitable trade. Magistrates interposed
not their power to suppress them, nor had proceedings at law, either
for recovery of money lost, or ,by indictment against the proprietors,
created any great terror or alarm amongst them ; but this quiescent state
of things was on the eve of convulsion. Very many players had been
ruined beyond redemption; others had been partially so; bankrupt-
cies, insolvencies, breaches of trust, with their concomitants of want,
misery, and privation, had all been in turn occasioned by the fatal in-
dulgence of play ; and some few insolvents had been driven, under the
necessity of the hour, to demand assistance, which in many instances
was by the wise and politic proprietor granted ; but in some cases de-
nied by the more heartless and avaricious. Hence arose appeals to the
la wand indictments against the parties, which, in their success, gave en-
couragement to similar proceedings by others ; and in the course of time
this system of attack was discovered to afford a fine source of profit to
the prosecuting attorneys in the shape of costs, and they were, in conse-
quence, frequently got up by some of the raff of the profession in the
names of fictitious parties, and with the sole view of extorting from the
different houses large sums of money in settlement of the matter with-
out proceeding to trial. A serious effect was produced against the inter-
ests of gaming-house proprietors in the matter of a qui tarn action
Willan v. Taylor, wherein the plaintiff sought to recover, under the sta-
tute of Anne, a large sum of money alleged to be lost at play with three
times the amount in penalties. The action was tried and a verdict
given for the plaintiff. The defendant resorted to all possible modes of
legal delay and expensive proceeding, and ultimately to a writ of error ;
but he was in the end defeated.
The most alarming event, however, that gave a kind of death-blow to
the hopes of the fraternity, was in the case of an indictment preferred
by a student at law (now an eminent and successful practitioner in a
court not a hundred miles from Lincoln's Inn Fields) against Bennett and
Oldfield for the offence of keeping a common gaming-house. The cause
of such indictment is believed to have arisen out of the circumstance of
the young gentleman having lost a sum of money to the parties named
in the indictment ; under the inconvenience of which loss, he had applied
for the return (either by loan or gift) of a portion of the money to en-
able him to prosecute his studies, and keep terms. The request, which
is said to have been moderate in its amount, was refused in the most po-
sitive terms by one of the party : the other not being altogether adverse
to compliance with the application, but governed, nevertheless, by the
determination of his more influential partner. Disappointment induced
the applicant to place the matter in professional hands, and a demand
was then in consequence made for the restoration of the full amount
of money lost, or the same would be enforced by law. Whether the
parties so threatened feared, by acquiescence with such demand, to
GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES, AND GAMESTERS. 45
establish a dangerous precedent (as the legal phrase is), or whether they
considered the poor student too low in circumstances to contend with the
power of their well-lined coffers through all the tedious ways and com-
plicated and expensive process of law, is still a matter of conjecture; hut
the demand of the professional adviser was unattended to. An indict-
ment was in consequence preferred, and a true bill found against the
parties, who then first opened their eyes to the impolitic course they had
adopted, and then only awoke to a half-view of the policy necessary to
avert the threatened danger ; for, instead of meeting the evil at once,
and paying, as they could well afford, the sum now demanded as lost,
they parsimoniously tried to settle the matter by the minor offer of the
amount first requested. But matters had assumed another complexion :
costs, too, had been incurred, there were now the claims of the lawyer
as well as the client, and two wills to consult and conciliate : these by
no means favoured the acceptance of so insignificant an offer. In the
meantime bail was put in, and subsequently the indictment was moved
by certiorari into the Court of King's Bench. This afforded time for
further overture, and some advance was made to arrangement, but with-
out effect; avarice, obstinacy, or some insane feeling controlled the
better policy, and still kept the offer under the sum demanded : the re-
sult was, that the indictment came on.
Simultaneously with such indictment against Bennett and Oldfield had
been preferred a similar complaint against the house No. 40, Pall Mall,
which had changed hands, and was then in full operation on a very grand
scale under the ostensible proprietorship of Humphreys and Rogier, as
the representatives of some foreign capitalists of whom a person named
Saladini was the chief. The indictment against this house arose out of a
similar insane and obstinate refusal on the part of the management to
comply with a request for pecuniary accommodation under loss. This
case was tried with the other. Mr. Charles Phillips was engaged for the
prosecution, and needed no apter subject for the full display of his orato-
rical powers. He made an eloquent and powerful address to the court and
jury in which he stated, and afterwards established in evidence, that the
defendant Rogier, had heartlessly insulted the injured party, defying him
to go to law as soon as he pleased, and boasting that the defendants were
too strong for him, for that a fund of enormous amount had been sub-
scribed and set apart by the gaming-house keepers to resist and defeat
all actions and indictments. However exaggerated this statement might
have been, it evidently had its full weight with the court in passing sen-
tence. A very able defence was made, but the jury considered the case
proved, and pronounced a verdict of Guilty. All the defendants had
thought that even in the event of such a verdict, judgment would be de-
ferred until a day to be named by the court, until which time they would
be at large on their respective bail. Under such impression, they had
all been seen within the immediate precinct of the court, anxious, no doubt,
to learn the earliest possible intelligence of the verdict. The prosecutor
and his attorney had observed them, and communicated the same to
their counsel, who, instantly on the verdict being pronounced, moved that
the defendants should be brought up for immediate judgment, to which
the court assented ; and Mr. Justice Bailey then, in full court and with
the accordance of the whole bench, pronounced sentence of heavy fine
and lengthened imprisonment on all the prisoners, distinguishing the case
of Rogier, on whom a greater fine (oQQQl.) was imposed, owing to the
46 GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES,
ridiculous boast he had made of the fund set apart to defeat the law. The
folly and absurdity of such an assertion must be apparent when it
is known that after the period of Rogier's imprisonment had expired, his
fine was remitted, owing to his extreme poverty ; and that for some years
after this until his death he lived within the rules of the Bench part-
ly by charity, and partly by the industry of his wife in some humble oc-
cupation.
The eifect of this verdict and severe sentence, was to strike panic
amongst the whole tribe of gaming-house keepers ; it gave rise also to,
and encouraged, similar proceedings and threats of action and indictment
by other parties, and sharpened most considerably the appetite of rapa-
cious and pettifogging attorneys who, under the pretence of moral impulse
and motive, levied heavy contributions from the different proprietors as a
kind of hush-money. Thus, while legal measures operated in one re-
spect as a wholesome check to the evil of gaming and the rapacity of
gaming-house proprietors, it cannot be concealed or denied that, on the
other hand, it opened a field to extortion, and promoted a system of suc-
cessful imposition by no means consistent with the great end of public
morality.
Gaming-house keepers were now, however, brought to a more consi-
derate view of their ticklish position ; they became more scrupulous as
to the visitors they admitted, and more wise in their general policy.
Notwithstanding which, they were continually exposed to danger and an-
noyance ; and, in addition to the other modes of proceeding against
them, informations before the police-magistrates were resorted to, and
under their authority, on such occasions, forcible entry was made into
the house complained against, and the whole party found therein taken
into custody. Justice and law were then satisfied by the visitors being
bound in their own recognizances not to appear again in a public gaming-
house, and the proprietors of the nuisance were usually fined, or com-
mitted for trial at the sessions. These forcible entries by the Bow-
Street officers, who were men of tact and experience, frequently took
place in broad day, and afforded much mirth and entertainment to the
passing public ; for at such times might be seen some thirty or forty per-
sons making their way, with that admirable dexterity which fire and
alarm frequently create, over the house-tops, the officers in full pur-
suit, and the gazing and delighted multitude in the street below in full
cry at the fun.
All these methods of proceeding and warfare damped for a time the
hopes and energies of the fraternity. A host of common informers were
ever on the qui vive to attack one or other of the houses ; and seldom
a session passed without two or three indictments being preferred either
at Clerkenwell or Westminster, which were as invariably settled be-
fore the day of trial, and the object and true end of justice thereby de-
feated. The magistrates at length began to see through the system of
these indictments, and expressed strong determination no longer to en-
courage such proceedings but in their proper and legitimate object ;
added to this one or two instances of successful defence had occurred, in
which conspiracy and perjury were proved against the parties indicting,
the tables were thus turned on them to their complete overthrow.
Proceedings became again less frequent, and a new confidence seemed
to spring up in the colony. Houses of play again assumed somethino- of
AND GAMESTERS. 47
their former character, and business went on again more vigorously, per-
haps, from the check it had received.
The game of rouge-et-noir was, however, fast yielding to the novelty
and excitement of French hazard, which had been lately introduced also
from the French capital, and had found great favour and patronage in
London, particularly amongst the higher classes of society. Crockford,
Taylor, Fielder, and others, had first started this game at Watier's club
in Piccadilly, of which club may be found a very correct description in
an article entitled " Crockford and Crockford's," which appeared in
this Miscellany in the months of February and March of the present
year. Subsequently other houses, under the denomination of clubs,
and assuming the dignified appellations of " The Junior St. James's,"
"The Melton Mowbray," "The Leicester," "The Hertford," "The
Stranger/' " The Berkeley," " The Cavendish," and other titled distinc-
tions started into notoriety, and adopted the fashionable French game
which thus established itself to the almost total extinction of the old
source of profit. In progress of time the change worked its way also
into the lower houses, and, in conjunction with the equally novel but
still more destructive French game of roulette the principle of which
secures to the bankers a continually-occurring profit of nearly seven per
cent, on all money risked, gave new excitement to general speculation.
Crockford's magnificent mansion in St. James's Street had reared its
proud head in open acknowledgment of the purpose for which it was
erected, and standing as it did under sanction and patronage by the arU
stocratic and wealthy of the land, and free from all interruption by ma*
gisterial authority, it was taken by the whole tribe as a guaranty for the
undisturbed exercise of their like avocations. The district of play now
extended itself in both eastward and westward direction. The neigh-
bourhoods of Leicester Fields and the Quadrant had caught the infection,
and houses of every description, and affording opportunity of ruin to every
man, however low his station or high his quality, were continually springing
up under the conduct, too, of a less scrupulous and more determined set
of adventurers, who, in defiance of all law and decency, opened wide their
doors by day and night the sabbath not even excepted to all who pre-
sented themselves. The majority of this class confined not their pursuits
to the fair results of the game, but resorted to the most fraudulent prac-
tices to effect their great object of gain. Visitors were victimized off-
hand by means of confederacy between bonnets or pretended players and
the bankers, and the whole system became so palpably villanous in
practice that public outcry again forced attention on the authorities.
The Quadrant, in Regent Street, was absolutely overrun by the nui-
sance of gaming-houses. The penetration and judgment of the enter-
prising fraternity lost not sight of the peculiarly-favoured position of this
central locality for passing custom, and accordingly commenced opera-
tions therein ; and in avery short time there appeared on the north side,
within the limit of the County Fire Office and Glasshouse Street, no less
than six gaming-establishments open to all comers,, and the spirit of op-
position to each other became so strong that they resorted to the daring
and insolent method of sending out messengers or touts to parade the
street with cards, which they failed not to thrust into the hands of every
passing individual, announcing that at such and such a number of the
street the amusements of roulette and French hazard were constantly in
operation. By this method, and through the still more cunning and ob-
48 GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES,
jectionable agency of many unfortunate females who paraded the locali-
ty, hundreds of young men were tempted to the scenes of play. Youths
just emerged from scholastic control and positioned in places of trust,
bankers' clerks and officials of government departments, shopkeepers,
shopmen, and apprentices, butlers, valets, men-cooks, and others, without
distinction, were invited ; and it is a known fact that the first establish-
ment that started in this locality, realized in a few months above twen-
ty thousand pounds. The system of thrusting cards into the hands
of youths and striplings, is thought to have done much to bring the par-
ties under the marked displeasure of the magistracy, for it is reported
that many parents and masters gaining cognizance of such practice, and
receiving the identical cards from their more prudent children and ap-
prentices, forwarded the important documents to the Secretary of State,
with some impressive comments on the dire consequences that must re-
sult to society if so dangerous a practice were not put a stop to : and it
is by no means improbable that this course, aided by the active exertion
of several respectable tradesmen in the neighbourhood, may have had its
full effect in the proper quarter, for, in the course of time, a most deter-
mined war was waged with the houses, and ultimately they were com-
pletely exterminated.
The Quadrant, from its notoriety, had obtained the name of " The
Devil's Walk," as well in reference to the number of fallen angels who con-
tinually paraded its limit, as in regard to the " hells" or notorious gaming-
houses that existed therein. Its annals afford many distressing tales of
ruin, and furnish anecdote of most gloomy and painful description. One
instance of the ludicrous may be more grateful to the feelings of the too
sensitive reader, and the following may give some pretty correct impres-
sion of the character of the parties carrying on their avocations in this
spot.
Some time in the year 1837, a gentleman but then very recently ap-
pointed to the magistracy of a western suburban district, in the indul-
gence of his propensity for play, dropped in at one of these most respect-
able mansions of his satanic majesty's dominions. The house described
was situate at the north corner of Air Street and the Quadrant, and was
kept by Jack P and Bob somebody, aided by three or four other
fjentlemen of equally acknowledged talent and dexterity in tlie manual
exercise of their profession. The worthy magistrate having taken a seat
at the table, where were also seated two or three other persons in the
apparent occupation of play, commenced his speculations. The box
(for the game was French hazard) came to him in his due turn,
and, as is sometimes the case, he was successful in his operations, which
result continuing for a time, he actually won nearly the whole of the
pewter counters, representing money, of the bank. This not according
with the calculated results, and still less with the interests of the worthies
presiding at the table, it became a subject for consideration how to coun-
teract the effect of the threatened evil. Another successful main or
two and all would have been lost- the bankers would have been called
on to give cash for their counters, and this would most inconveniently
have exposed the grand secret that they could as easily have taken up
the notes in circulation by the Bank of England in fact, that cash was
not an essential in their system of business. What was to be done in
the dilemma? The ingenious Jack hit on an expedient: he pretended
:> have suddenly detected some malpractice in one of the players (a
AND GAMESTERS. 49
mere bonnet or accomplice, available alike for all tbe purposes of their
employer?,) seated next to the magistrate, and in his uncontrollable in-
dignation at such base attempts, as he described, to plunder the bank,
he, without ceremony, levelled a blow at the pretended offending indivi-
dual, which being dealt across the man of justice, who sat between the
striker and the stricken, most dexterously, but as if by accident, floored
him of the quorum in its double operation. Recovering himself from
his prostrate position on the ground, he was about to resume his seat at
the table, intending to lend the aid of his conciliatory powers to adjust
the misunderstanding and restore tranquillity. But no such harmonious
exercise of his tact was permitted him ; the room was in an uproar,
some siding or pretending to side with the bank, and others with the pre-
tended offending player ; fighting ensued and, in the scuffle, the little
amicably-disposed dispenser of justice suddenly found his way through a
French window with his head's antipodes inclining towards a comfortable
seat on the leads forming the terrace or gallery of the Quadrant, and his
head, without the window^ forming the opposite point of an acute angle
with his legs within.
The little gentleman called lustily for assistance, and was most in-
dignant that he, of all others, who had given no provocation or cause
of offence, should have been so unceremoniously and mercilessly mal-
treated. His cries were unheard, his remonstrances unheeded, and
the contention raged in all its original fury. At length, relieving him-
self by great effort from the state of purgatory described, he again made
his way towards the table with a view to possess himself of his property,
but again was the man of justice opposed in his progress, and the next
move on the board lodged him quietly within the fender, his caput com-
fortably reclining against the grate. From the latter situation he was
speedily rescued, and all having been accomplished that was contemplated,
the worthy magistrate was permitted to resume his seat at the board.
Scarcely, however, had he reached the table, and commenced inquiry for
the money and counters which he had left behind him when he had been
so unceremoniously knocked down, when he was answered by a gentleman t
who, in the most disinterested manner, advised him for his reputation's
sake to make the best of his way out of so horrible a place. Grateful
for the generous suggestion, he expressed his anxiety and readiness to
attend to the friendly suggestion ; but thinking that ere he put so wise a
determination into practice it might be as well to take value in money
for the many counters he had amassed by his speculations, he proceeded
to search for them, but, as may be guessed, they had wholly disappeared
no one knew where. The remonstrances of the dispenser of the laws
were ineffectual. He was very gravely informed that it behoved every
gentleman to take care of his own money, and that greatly as the pro-
prietors of the establishment must regret that any person having the ap-
pearance of a gentleman should gain admittance with a view to practise
so barefaced a robbery as that which they doubted not (truth to the let-
ter) had been committed on the worthy magistrate, they could not hold
themselves responsible in such case to the injured party: the little gen-
tleman, therefore, obtained nothing by his motion, but on the contrary was
minus a draft for 20/., given for that sum originally borrowed. Nor
was he permitted even to take back this draft in part discharge of the
50/. worth of counters he had won, but of which he had, as described,
been most shamefully plundered, and the whole of which were, strange
VOL.X IX. E
50 GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES,
to say, in circulation again at the same table on the following day. But
out of evil arises good the trick thus played off on the little gentleman
of the peace completely cured him of all desire to repeat his visits to a
London gaming-house. The mishaps of that day have since afforded
him much mirthful reflection ; and with true philosophy he now congra-
tulates himself that he received so impressive and profitable a lesson.
Another instance of the ludicrous, selected from the archives of the
Quadrant, will show that the enterprising demons of Satan's realm were
alive to every mode of realization of the material, and that their inge-
nuity was constantly on the alert to turn everybody and everything to
account. A tailor, resident in this locality, and doing a considerable
business, had been induced by the irresistibly tempting offer of a very
high rent, to let the upper part of his house furnished for the adaptation
of the same to the purposes of " a hell." He had daily opportunity of
observing the great influx of visitors to the play department ; he had ob-
served also the style and extravagant mode of life of his tenants ; and
last, not least, he dwelt with peculiarly grateful feeling on the punctuality
observed by them in the payment of their excessive rent, and the indif-
ference with which they treated any question of account embracing the
matter of " a few paltry pounds." Pondering on such things, and on
the vast resources from which such independence must proceed, he
arrived at the conclusion that a mine of wealth had been discovered in his
domain, in which, avarice whispered, it would be wise to become an ad-
venturer. He reasoned also that as lord of the manor or mansion, he
had something like a vested right to a certain toll or dish of the profits.
Having formed such an opinion, he, without loss of time, sought confer-
ence with the principal proprietor of the gaming-table, and laid open to him
his views and expectations. No sooner did this adept become acquaint-
ed with his landlord's desire to be dabbling in gaming pursuits, than he
resolved on turning him to right good account. With the judgment of
an old and experienced hand, he at first made a strong and decided objec-
tion to the proposal, urging that none ought to take share in the profits
of such a speculation but those intrepid spirits who dared the law, and
were prepared to take their due share in the disgrace and penalty
attaching to the dangerous pursuit. After much objection on one side
and entreaty on the other, the scruples of the play-man at length gave
way, and his landlord " the only man in the world to whom so great a
favour could be ceded" was admitted a partner on depositing a certain
sum of money proportioned to the share he was to take in the profits.
As he was unable, from the attention necessary to his own business, to
give his personal observation to the proceedings of the play department,
a person was recommended to him as most worthy of confidence to re-
present his interests there, and to report to him from time to time the
state of capital and account.
The new bank having been thus formed, matters went on for a time
well and flourishingly, and the adventurer, delighted with his success,
was not slow to congratulate himself on the diplomacy by which he had
effected a partnership arrangement in so thriving a trade. Tailoring be-
came but the secondary object of his thoughts ; gold floated in delightful
fancy before his eyes, and Consols and India Bonds were the subject of
his nocturnal reveries. On receiving a handsome dividend at the end of
a month, it was announced to him that the principal of the party having
embarked a large sum of money in an establishment of more extensive
AND GAMESTERS. 51
character, he was about to withdraw from the minor house, and it was
open to the other partners, or any one of them under refusal by the
others, to take the seceding partner's proportion. The bait took ; the
delighted novice swallowed with greedy appetite the tempting morsel,
calculating by the rule of direct proportion that, if 2001. capital deposit-
ed, would yield the handsome profit of 50L per month, the dividend he
had received, 600/. would give the threefold amount in the like given pe-
riod, a sum sufficient in itself to render further attention to the shop
needless, and to raise him to independence. The money was accordingly
advanced, and the enthusiast became proprietor of three-fourths of the
whole alleged bank or capital of 800/. How fleeting, alas, are fortune's
favours ! how deceitful her smiles ! The glittering sovereigns and the
clean crisp notes of the Bank of England which, on the opening of the
new bank, had been laid out in due form on the table in all their capti-
vating and attractive display, to excite the cupidity of the admiring
group of players that should assemble at the board, had not been
exposed to view for more than one hour ere they were doomed to take
wing. Six new packs of cards had been opened and the game had com-
menced, when a gentleman, terrifically moustachoed, and adorned with a
profusion of jewellery in the shape of chains, rings, and shirt-studs, en-
tered the room, and with much apparent indifference took his seat at the
table. He exhibited no haste or anxiety to play, but after some few mi-
nutes took from his purse a Wl. note, which having changed for smaller
money, he commenced operations. The gentleman was unusually suc-
cessful in two or three deals he contrived to break the bank of 6501.
As a matter of course the bankers and officials were, or pretended to be
(which amounted to the same thing), in utter dismay at what was termed
so unlocked for a reverse. The evil news was soon conveyed to the new
principal by his confidential representative. The tailor was in despair,
and, notwithstanding the consolations offered by the assurance of his ex-
perienced partners, that the money must come back again with large in-
terest, he was not to be thus easily reconciled. He had painted all
couleur de rose without change of hue, and this sudden blight to his
hopes deprived him of all self-command. He raved, stamped, and swore
he had been plundered ; and never did he give utterance to a greater
truth, as the sequel proved. When the excess of rage and mortification
had somewhat subsided, it was proposed to him to put down from his own
sole resources another bank of 500/., in order that he might reap the full
benefit of the success which it was still asserted must attend such specu-
lation. But the very tempting and disinterested offer was declined, and it
was determined only that the balance of 150/., supposed to be in the
coffers of the bank, as remaining from the original capital of 8001. should
be put down on the table on the following day at the usual hour of bu- 1 -
siness to abide the chance of fortune. The day and hour arrived, but the
cashier and his party were in nubibus.
52
ANECDOTES OF THE PENINSULAR. WAR,
PROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF RIFLEMAN HARRIS.
EDITED BY HENRY CURLING.
THE RETREAT TO CORUNNA.
WHILST we lay exhausted in the road, the rear guard, which was
now endeavouring to drive on the stragglers, approached, and a ser-
geant of the rifles came up, and stopped to look at us. He address-
ed himself to me, and ordered me to rise ; but I told him it was use-
less for him to trouble himself about me, as I was unable to move a
step further. Whilst he was urging me to endeavour to rise up, the
officer in command of the rear guard also stepped up. The name of
this officer was Lieutenant Cox ; he was a brave and good man, and
observing that the sergeant was rough in his language and manner to-
wards me, he silenced him, and bade the guard proceed, and leave me.
(C Let him die quietly, Hicks," he said to the sergeant. " I know him
well ; he 's not the man to lie here if he could get on. I am sorry,
Harris," he said, " to see you reduced to this, for I fear there is no
help to be had now." He then moved on after his men, and left me
to my fate.
After lying still for awhile, I felt somewhat restored, and sat up
to look about me. The sight was by no means cheering. On the road
behind me I saw men, women, mules, and horses, lying at intervals,
both dead and dying ; whilst far away in front I could just discern
the enfeebled army crawling out of sight, the women * huddled
together in its rear, trying their best to get forward amongst those
of the sick soldiery, who were now unable to keep up with the
main body. After awhile, I found that my companion the sergeant,
who lay beside me, had also recovered a little, and I tried to cheer
him up. I told him that opposite to where we were lying there
was a lane, down which we might possibly find some place of shel-
ter, if we could muster strength to explore it. The sergeant con-i
sented to make the effort, but after two or three attempts to rise,
A T T /i f\ . _*^
_. quit<
that I could render him no assistance.
After hobbling some distance down the lane, to my great joy I
espied a small hut or cabin, with a little garden in its front ; I there-
fore opened the small door of the hovel, and was about to enter,
when I remembered that most likely I should be immediately knock-
ed on the head by the inmates if I did so. The rain, I remember,
was coming down in torrents at this time, and, reflecting that to re-
mam outside was but to die, I resolved at all events to try mv luck
within. I had not much strength left; but I resolved to sell myself
as dearly as I could. I therefore brought up my rifle, and stepped
across the threshold. As soon as I had done so, I observed an old
* Some of these poor wretches cut a ludicrous figure, having the men's great coats
buttoned over their heads, whilst their clothing being extremely ragged and scan"
their naked legs were very conspicuous. They looked a tribe of tilling beggarl
ANECDOTES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR. 53
woman seated beside a small fire upon the hearth. She turned her
head as I entered, and immediately upon seeing a strange soldier,
she arose, and filled the hovel with her screams. As I drew back
within the doorway, an elderly man, followed by two, who were ap-
parently his sons, rushed from a room in the interior. They imme-
diately approached me; but I brought up my rifle again, and cocked
it, bidding them keep their distance.
After I had thus brought them to a parley, I got together what
little Spanish I was master of, and begged for shelter for the night
and a morsel of food, at the same time lifting my feet and displaying
them a mass of bleeding sores. It was not, however, till they had
held a tolerably long conversation amongst themselves that they
consented to afford me shelter; and then only upon the condition
that I left by daylight on the following morning. I accepted the
conditions with joy. Had they refused me, I should indeed not have
been here to tell the tale. Knowing the treachery of the Spanish
character, I however refused to relinquish possession of my rifle, and
my right hand was ready in an instant to unsheath my bayonet, as
they sat and stared at me whilst I devoured the food they offered.
All they gave me was some coarse black bread, and a pitcher of
sour wine. It was, however, acceptable to a half-famished man ; and
I felt greatly revived by it. Whilst I supped, the old hag, who sat
close beside the hearth, stirred up the embers, that they might have
a better view of their guest, and the party meanwhile overwhelmed
me with questions, which I could neither comprehend nor had
strength to answer. I soon made signs to them that I was unable to
maintain the conversation, and begged of them, as well as I could, to
shew me some place where I might lay my wearied limbs till dawn.
Notwithstanding the weariness which pervaded my whole body,
I was unable for some time to sleep except by fitful snatches, such
was the fear I entertained of having my throat cut by the savage-
looking wretches still seated before the fire. Besides which, the
place they had permitted me to crawl into was more like an oven
than anything else, and being merely a sort of berth scooped out of
the wall, was so filled with fleas, and other vermin, that I was stung
and tormented most miserably all night long.
Bad as they had been, however, I felt somewhat restored by my
lodging and supper, and with the dawn I crawled out of my lair, left
the hut, retraced my steps along the lane, and once more emerged
upon the high-road, where I found my companion the sergeant dead,
and lying where I had left him the night before.
I now made the best of my way along the road in the direction in
which I had last seen our army retreating the night before. A soli-
tary individual, I seemed left behind amongst those who had perish-
ed. It was still raining, I remember, on this morning, and the very
dead looked comfortless in their last sleep, as I passed them occa-
sionally lying on the line of march.
It had pleased Heaven to give me an iron constitution, or I must
have failed, I think, on this day, for the solitary journey, and the
miserable spectacles I beheld, rather damped my spirits.
After progressing some miles, I came up with a cluster of poor
devils who were still alive, but apparently, both men and women, un-
able to proceed. They were sitting huddled together in the road, their
heads drooping forward, and apparently patiently awaiting their end.
54 ANECDOTES OF
Soon after passing these unfortunates, I overtook a party who
were being urged forward under charge of an officer ot the 4Jnd
Highlanders. He was pushing them along pretty much as a drover
would keep together a tired flock of sheep. They presented a curi-
ous example of a retreating force. Many of them had thrown away
their weapons, and were linked together arm-in-^rm, in order to
support each other, like a party of drunkards. They were, I saw,
composed of various regiments; many were bare-headed, and with-
out shoes ; and some with their heads tied up in old rags and frag-
ments of handkerchiefs.
I marched in company with this party for some time, but as I felt
after my night's lodging and refreshment in better condition I
ventured to push forwards, in the hope of rejoining the main body,
and which I once more came up with in the street of a village.
On falling in with the Rifles, I again found Brooks, who was sur-
prised at seeing me still alive ; and we both entered a house, and
begged for something to drink. I remember that I had a shirt upon
my back at this time, which I had purchased of a drummer of the
9th regiment before the commencement of the retreat. It was the
only good one I had ; I stripped, with the assistance of Brooks, and
took it off, and exchanged it with a Spanish woman for a loaf of
bread, which Brooks, myself, and two other men, shared amongst
us.
I remember to have again remarked Crawfurd at this period of
the retreat. He was no whit altered in his desire to keep the force
together, I thought ; but still active and vigilant as ever, he seemed
to keep his eye upon those who were now most likely to hold out.
I myself marched during many hours close beside him this day. He
looked stern and pale ; but the very picture of a warrior. I shall
never forget Crawfurd if I live to a hundred years, I think. He was
in everything a soldier.
Slowly and dejectedly crawled our army along. Their spirit of
endurance was now considerably worn out, and judging from my
own sensations, I felt confident that if the sea was much further from
us, we must be content to come to a halt at last without winning it.
I felt something like the approach of death as I proceeded, a sort
of horror, mixed up with my sense of illness, a feeling I have never
experienced before or since. Still I held on; but withTall my efforts,
the main body again left me behind. Had the enemy's cavalry come
up at this time I think they would have had little else to do but ride
us down without striking a blow.
It is, however, indeed astonishing how man clings to life. I am
certain that had I lain down at this period, I should have found my
last billet on the spot I sank upon. Suddenly I heard a shout in
front, which was prolonged in a sort of hubbub. Even the strag-
glers whom I saw dotting the road in front of me seemed to have
caught at something like hope; and as the poor fellows now reached
the top of a hill we were ascending, I heard an occasional exclama-
tion of joy, .the first note of the sort I had heard for many days.
When I reached the top of the hill the thing spoke for itself. There,
far away in our front, the English shipping lay in sight.*
Its view had indeed acted like a restorative to our force, and the
madefur ' ^^ Crawfurd > n this retreat, as I have before mentioned,
THE PENINSULAR WAR. 55
men at the prospect of a termination to the march, had plucked up
spirit for a last effort. Fellows who, like myself, seemed to have
hardly strength in their legs to creep up the ascent, seemed now to
have picked up a fresh pair to get down with. Such is hope to us
poor mortals !
There was, I recollect, a man of the name of Bell of the Rifles,
-who had been during this day holding a sort of creeping race
with me, we had passed and repassed each other, as our strength
served. Bell was rather a discontented fellow at the best of times ;
but during this retreat he had given full scope to his ill-temper,
cursing the hour in which he was born, and wishing his mother
had strangled him when he came into the world, in order to have
saved him from his present toil. He had not now spoken for
some time, and the sight of the English shipping had apparently a
very beneficial effect upon him. He burst into tears as he stood and
looked at it.
"Harris," he said, "if it pleases God to let me reach those ships,
I swear never to utter a bad or discontented word again."
As we proceeded down the hill we now met with the first sym-
ptoms of good feeling from the inhabitants it was our fortune to expe-
rience during our retreat. A number of old women stood on either
side the road, and occasionally handed us fragments of bread as we
passed them. It was on this day, and whilst I looked anxiously
upon the English shipping in the distance, that I first began to find
my eyesight failing, and it appeared to me that I was fast growing
blind. The thought was alarming ; and I made desperate efforts to
get on. Bell, however, won the race this time. He was a very
athletic and strong-built fellow, and left me far behind, so that I be-
lieve at that time I was the very last of the retreating force that
reached the beach, though doubtless many stragglers came dropping
up after the ships had sailed, and were left behind.
As it was, when I did manage to gain the sea-shore, it was only
by the aid of my rifle that I could stand, and my eyes were now so
dim and heavy that with difficulty I made out a boat which seemed
the last that had put off.
Fearful of being left half blind in the lurch, I took off my cap,
and placed it on the muzzle of my rifle as a signal, for I was totally
unable to call out. Luckily Lieutenant Cox, who was aboard the
boat, saw me, and ordered the men to return, and, making one more
effort, I walked into the water, and a sailor stretching his body over
the gunwale, seized me as if I had been an infant, and hauled me on
board. His words were characteristic of the English sailor, I thought.
" Hallo there, you lazy lubber !" he said as he grasped hold of me,
" who the h 11 do you think is to stay humbugging all day for such
a fellow as you ?"
The boat, I found, was crowded with our exhausted men, who lay
helplessly at the bottom, the heavy sea every moment drenching us to
the skin. As soon as we reached the vessel's side, the sailors imme-
diately aided us to get on board, which in our exhausted state was
not a very easy matter, as they were obliged to place ropes in our
hands, and heave us up by setting their shoulders under us, and
hoisting away as if they had been pushing bales of goods on board.
" Heave away !" cried one of the boat's crew, as I clung to a rope,
quite unable to pull myself up, " heave away, you lubber !"
56 ANECDOTES OF THE PENINSULAR WAR.
The tar placed his shoulder beneath me as he spoke, and hoisted
me up against the ship's side ; I lost my grasp of the rope, and should
have fallen into the sea, had it not been for two of the crew. These
men grasped me as I was falling, and drew me into the port-hole like
a bundle of foul clothes, tearing away my belt and bayonet in the
effort, which fell into the sea.
It was not very many minutes after I was on board, for 1 lay
where the sailors had firt placed me, after dragging me through
the port-hole, ere I was sound asleep. I slept long and heavily,
and it was only the terrible noise and bustle on board consequent
upon a gale having sprung up, that at length awoke me. The
wind increased as the night came on, and soon we had to expe-
rience all the horrors of a storm at sea. The pumps were set to
work, the sails were torn to shreds ; the coppers were overset, and
we appeared in a fair way, I thought, of going to the bottom.
Meanwhile the pumps were kept at work night and day incessantly,
till they were choked ; and the gale growing worse and worse, all
the soldiery were ordered below, and the hatches closed ; soon after
which the vessel turned - over on one side, and lay a helpless log
upon the water. In this situation an officer was placed over us,
with his sword drawn in one hand, and a lanthorn in the other, in
order to keep us on the side which was uppermost, so as to give the
vessel a chance of righting herself in the roaring tide. The officer's
task was not an easy one, as the heaving waves frequently sent
us sprawling from the part we clung to, over to the lowermost
part of the hold, where he stood, and he was obliged every minute
to drive us back.
We remained in this painful situation for, I should think, five or
six hours, expecting every instant to be our last, when, to our
great joy, the sea suddenly grew calm, the wind abated, the vessel
righted herself, and we were once more released from our prison,
having tasted nothing in the shape of food for at least forty-eight
hours. Soon after this we arrived in sight of Spithead, where we
saw nine of our convoy, laden with troops, which had been driven
on shore in the gale. After remaining off Spithead for about
five or six days, one fine morning we received orders to disem-
bark, and our poor bare feet once more touched English ground.
The inhabitants flocked down to the beach to see us as we did so,
and they must have been a good deal surprised at the spectacle we
presented. Our beards were long and ragged; almost all were
without shoes or stockings ; many had their clothes and accoutre-
ments in fragments, with their heads swathed in old rags, and
our arms were covered with rust; whilst not a few had now, from
toil and fatigue, become quite blind.
Let not the reader, however, think, that even now we were to be
despised as soldiers. Long marches, inclement weather, and want
of food, had done their work upon us; but we were perhaps better
than we appeared, as the sequel shewed. Under the gallant Craw-
lurd we had made some tremendous marches, and even galled our
enemies severely, making good our retreat by the way of Vigo But
our comrades in adversity, and who had retired by the other road
to Corunna, under General Moore, turned to bay there, and shewed
the enemy that the English soldier is not to be beaten even under
the most adverse circumstances.
MONKISH BALLADS. 57
The field of death and slaughter, the march, the bivouac, and the
retreat, are no bad places in which to judge of men. I have had some
opportunities of judging them in all these situations, and I should
say, that the British are amongst the most splendid soldiers in the
world. Give them fair play, and they are unconquerable. For my
own part I can only say, that I enjoyed life more whilst on active
service, than I have ever done since ; and as I sit at work in my
shop in Richmond Street, Soho, I look back upon that portion of
my time spent in the fields of the Peninsula as the only part worthy
of remembrance. It is at such times that scenes long passed come
back upon my mind as if they had taken place but yesterday. I
remember even the very appearance of some of the regiments en-
gaged, and comrades, long mouldered to dust, I see again perform-
ing the acts of heroes.
MONKISH BALLADS.
THE JOLLY MILLER AND JACK AND GILL.
THE lovers of mediaeval literature will rejoice at the discovery of
the following carols. They are supposed to have been sung by the
monks of St. Alban's at Christmas-tide, and adopted from them by
the fellows of All Souls' College, Oxford, at its foundation. We
are indebted for the discovery of these precious relics to the Cam-
bridge Camden Society. Our beautiful songs of " The Jolly Miller"
and " Jack and Gill " will perhaps lose nothing of their popularity,
when discovered to have such a claim upon our attention from their
antiquity.
" There lived on y e rivere Dee one Jolie Millere ; no larke was
more merrye, for he cared for nobodie, and nobodie cared for him."
Ad Deae vixit llumina] Hie chorus erat carminis
Molitor socialis ; Ad usque infinitum,
Qui risit et cantavit ut Ah ! mihi nemo curae est,
Alauda jovialis. Et ego neraini sum.
The other is of the same character; it tells us, that "One Jacke
didde ascende y e mountayne for to gette watere, with his frende ;
but he felle doune, and in lyken mannere didde his frende ; and
they cracked their crowns."
Johannes, cum Ascendit : Hie,
Amico, dum Et ille sic,
Hauriat aquam, montem Prolapsus, fregit frontem.
" Fregit frontem," cracked his crown. Haec alliteratio certe meli-
oris (qy. middlioris ?) aevi digna. ED. note.
We hear that an imperfect copy of the Legends of St. Dirtiface,
and St. Cinderella virgin and martyr have been discovered, and are
calculated to throw great light upon the real characters of the monks
and nuns of the middle ages.
58
THE GAOL CHAPLAIN;
mi, A DARK PAGE FROM LIFE'S VOLUME.
CHAPTER LXXIV.
THE AVENGER'S WITNESS AGAINST MURDER concluded.
As he spoke, Dunnett's wife, forgetful of the piteous aspect of the
wretched craven before her forgetful of the agony he was evidently
undergoing forgetful of his pressing claims upon her active sym-
pathy and kind offices forgetful, in fact, of all but her husband's
peril, pressed towards the speaker and shrieked rather than said
' < When before ? Answer me when before ? "
Owsley was silent.
" Where " persisted she with renewed vehemence, " where did
you last meet?"
"Pain" exclaimed he piteously, "pain distracts me. I know
not what I said."
" But you did," returned she firmly ; " you did. And a terrible
secret have your words disclosed. You know deny it not how
Rolluck met his end. And HE who hates deeds of blood, points you
out by a dumb creature as the Murderer!"
" No ! No !" cried Owsley furiously ; " I deny it."
And under the combined influence of pain, fright, and loss of
blood, the wretched man fainted.
Every relief which medical skill could devise Mr. Tyerman took
care should not be wanting. The suggestions of humanity were
fully carried out, but the most rigid surveillance was not forgotten.
A train of minute circumstances each unimportant in itself, but
united forming a chain of almost irresistible evidence was arrayed
against him, and within a fortnight he was committed for trial.
But that dreaded ordeal was never passed through. He sickened
and died in prison six weeks before the assizes were held. To the
last he maintained that he was not Rolluck's murderer ; though he
admitted being secreted in the house on the fatal evening of his
death ; and that the object of his ambush was to surprise the old
man into a further advance of cash. That this was the extent of his
guilt may, with all Christian charity, be doubted ; enough, however,
was admitted by him to clear Dunnett from suspicion and to restore
him to his family. Still, to his closing hour and Joe lived long and
prosperously he was accustomed to say f the first, and best, and
boldest witness in my favour was a dumb one."
A case with somewhat similar bearings will be remembered by
many, which referred to a helpless member of a family long resident
at one of the little seaports in Devon. Mrs. Arlett was the mother
of a very lovely girl whose beauty was her ruin. Her rare and sur-
passing personal attractions drew on her the notice of a high-born
profligate: and she, rashly credulous and dazzled with the prospect
of a coronet in the distance, fled with him from her humble home.
The hour of delusion soon passed. The object of the party to whom
she had entrusted her happiness speedily became apparent. Deceived,
disgusted and betrayed, she died a few months after her flight
THE GAOL CHAPLAIN. 59
miserably. Her widowed and agonized mother found a shelter in
the house of a married nephew, whose unceasing study seemed to be
that of diverting her from the contemplation of past sorrows. He
but partially succeeded : for one of the delusions which had obtain-
ed a firm hold of Mrs. Arlett's mind was this that " Thomasine was
not dead, but would return to her ere long a humbled and submis-
sive penitent." No argument, no persuasion, could conquer this
idea. " It was impossible," she contended with tearful eye, and
quivering lip, " that one could die so young and so happy, so joyous
and lovely as Thomasine ! Though sorrow had overtaken her, Death
would spare her. He could have nothing in common with one so
gentle and so fair. She wished people would not distress her by such
frightful rumours. Her heart was bound up with her daughter.
She should soon see her again. She would return some early morn-
ing she knew she would to her poor failing mother. She had not
a doubt upon the point. The spring would bring her ! "
Poor Thomasine ! while these words of hope and trust were utter-
ed, she was mouldering in a distant and unhonoured grave !
Meanwhile every relic of her daughter was precious in the poor
mother's eyes. Her own valuables had long since disappeared. The
hour of trial and privation had scattered them. But, whatever
jewel Thomasine had worn or prized, was guarded with a miser's
care.
A ruby ring, to which, in her early days of happiness, Thoraasine
had been partial ; a highly-finished miniature of herself, taken by a
London artist what an intelligent, joyous, animated countenance
did it present ! a gold cross, exquisitely chased, of foreign manufac-
ture, the offering of some youthful lover to the far-famed beauty ;
and a bird of splendid plumage from Mexico, whose note was singu-
larly sweet and musical, and which, being regularly fed by its
youthful mistress, knew her, and would clap his wings and burst
into song the moment she approached the cage ; these were the
treasures over which poor Mrs. Arlett gloated, and which were
rarely absent from her sight. Life ebbed away in examining and
preserving them. The instructions of the nephew to his household
with reference to his feeble guest, were positive and reiterated that
her wishes were to be obeyed and her foibles to be respected to the
utmost. No request was to be deemed inopportune. And, to secure
her against the possibility of neglect, an attendant was placed at her
command, whose sole duty was to attend to her personal comfort.
The name of this party was Franchette. She was pronounced " an
invaluable creature ; " a treasure for honesty and fidelity. What
vipers these " faithful creatures" occasionally prove ! But this by
the way.
Two years had Mrs. Arlett been a guest an honoured though a
trying guest under the roof of her generous nephew ; her mind
still reverting to her daughter, and her lips still uttering the most
earnest assurances that Thomasine would speedily return to her as
dutiful and affectionate as when they last met ; when her existence
abruptly closed. Without any previous illness any avowal of pain or
uneasiness or the manifestation of any symptom which could create
alarm she was found one morning dead in her chair. The coun-
tenance was perfectly calm and placid. There was no distortion of
feature no impress of pain or struggle apparent. And many thanks-
60 THE GAOL CHAPLAIN.
givings were uttered by the kind-hearted host that his kinswoman's
chequered career had come to so calm and peaceful a close. The
medical attendants who were called in united in opinion that some
bloodvessel in the head had given way, and that Mrs. Arlett had
died instantaneously. Her sufferings, they felt assured, must have
been but momentary. The necessary preparations were made. The
funeral took place ; and all seemed satisfied that the fatal event had
been produced by natural causes all, save and except Mrs. Hum-
phrey Arlett. She shook her head with dubious meaning, when the
happy release of the poor widow was spoken of; and hummed and
hawed when merciless gossips observed to her how providentially
it had been ordered that the old lady's decease was so momentary
and so peaceful ! "
" What does that bye-play mean ? " was her husband's inquiry on
one occasion. " You are not apt to array your judgment against
that of others ; are you not satisfied ? "
" Not altogether," was the reply.
" You do not suspect foul play ? " continued he earnestly.
" I miss," returned the lady, evading all direct reply, " I miss from
your relative's writing-desk the much-prized ruby ring, the gold
cross which she so frequently wore, and the exquisite miniature of
Thomasine, so valuable from its massive and costly setting."
" Is that all ? You will discover them in a day or two in some one
of her many hiding-places. You are as well aware as myself of her
magpie propensities."
" I do not find/' continued Mrs. Humphrey doggedly, " a single
shilling among her effects. Purse and note-case are both gone."
" Pooh ! Pooh ! Remember her very limited means."
" She was poor that I grant but not penniless. A little hoard
in reserve, depend upon it, was hers. I am dissatisfied much and
greatly dissatisfied with the general aspect of affairs."
" Needlessly ! " cried the husband. " Mark me, Emma, all will be
cleared up in a day or two."
" I agree with you ; but the denouement will close in a manner you
little expect !" observed the lady quietly, as her unsuspicious hus-
band rose and left her.
Three weeks glided by. No further discovery was made; but
Mrs. Arlett's suspicions were as active as ever. She had never re-
turned to the subject on which her husband and herself took such
opposite views ; but she only waited for an opportunity to re-assert
her opinion : that Mr. Arlett speedily gave her.
" Franchette's mourning is wretchedly shabby : have you remark-
ed it, Emma ? " observed the gentleman ; " one would imagine she
had provided it at her own expense."
" She has ! " was his companion's laconic reply.
" You are jesting ! " exclaimed he. " Surely you purpose, were it
only from respect to the memory of the dead, that Franchette, as my
poor aunt's special attendant, should have mourning new, of course,
and handsome?"
" Nothing more distant from my intention."
" Nay, nay, Emma ; your assumption of the character of a nig-
gard so foreign to your own generous impulses ill becomes you.
Listen to me. I proposed settling on the girl a trifling annuity in
acknowledgment of her services to the dead. You would not hear
THE GAOL CHAPLAIN. 61
f it. I then modified my scheme into a gratuity for her attendance
upon my poor kinswoman to her very last hour. You condemned
it. And now you advance a step further, and refuse to give her
mourning. Surely, this is harsh ! "
"No, it is just. Listen, in your turn, to me. That Franchette
ought to be a mourner on this occasion, I admit. No one has such
cause for deep and quenchless grief. But let her regret be shown
not by external indications of sorrow, but by confession and repent-
ance."
" Confession ! of what ? "
" Of her crime. I believe her to be accessary nay, start not to
your helpless kinswoman's death. Every article of value belonging
to her has disappeared. Who had opportunity to purloin them ?
The invalid died, it is asserted, in the day-time, when left for twenty
minutes wholly to herself. Where was Franchette ? how employ-
ed ? in what part of the house ? and on what errand ? She is un-
able to say! But the witness against her, the disinterested and
damning witness, is the foreign warbler Yu-a-tipi. The bird
wont touch food presented by her hands ; flaps his wings and
screams when she approaches him ; shows every symptom of horror,
rage, and fright, so long as she is present you must have noticed
this?"
" I have. It has puzzled me."
" Me it has grieved : for to my mind it solved a frightful problem.
That bird was in the room when your poor old relative died. Die
under what circumstances she might, he witnessed the last struggle,
whatever was its nature."
"Emma, these are circumstances tinged, it is true, with suspicion,
but from which no dark conclusion should be lightly drawn."
" I cannot avoid it : and therefore I implore you that Franchette
may have neither annuity, nor pecuniary present, nor mourning ;
and an asylum in this house only till I can unmask and punish her."
But the presumed delinquent who, to other natural gifts, added
that of a veryjine ear, had overheard some portion of this dialogue
and took measures accordingly. She decamped, when and how no
one knew. The greater portion of her clothes, the wages due to
her, and one or two bulky presents which her deceased mistress had
made her, were perforce left behind. Nothing was heard of her for
six or seven years. At the end of that period a squalid, ill-dressed,
miserable-looking woman waited on Mrs. Arlett, and said she was
Franchette's mother. Her daughter, she remarked, was dead, and
had died, after great suffering, in some hospital in London. Two
days before she breathed her last she called her mother aside, and
implored her to put a small parcel (which she gave her) into Mrs.
Arlett's hands. This package she produced. With mingled fear
and curiosity it was opened. Within lay, much defaced, scratched,
and abominably ill-used, the once glowing miniature of the unfor-
tunate Thomasine. The costly and massive gold setting, as a matter
of course, was missing. Round the picture was twisted a sheet of
soiled letter-paper. On this was written, in large and legible cha-
racters, " Your suspicions were just. Franchette."
But perhaps the most extraordinary part ever sustained in a case
of murder by a dumb animal was borne by a little terrier dog
name and owner unknown in the case of Nicholson, the assassin of
62 THE GAOL CHAPLAIN.
liis unsuspecting master and mistress, the Bonars. I have thrown
the particulars into a note. I would quote their source, but cannot
recal it. All I can state is, they are authentic. Can they be read
without this conclusion being arrived at, that the mission of the
animal was to detect a murderer ? *
CHAPTER LXXV.
SLEEPLESS BECAUSE CRIMINAL.
* In the close of his career, the vulgar saw only a confirmation of all their preju-
dices ; and some men of real piety and genius so far forgot the maxims both of re-
ligion and of philosophy as confidently to ascribe the mournful event to the just
vengeance of God, and to the horrors of an evil conscience. It is with very differ-
ent feelings that we contemplate the spectacle of a great mind ruined by the weari-
ness of satiety, by the pangs of wounded honour, by fatal diseases, and still more
fatal remedies." RIGHT HONOURABLE THOMAS B. MACAULAY, M.P.
DR. TODRIGG, whose resignation was this morning tendered and
accepted, and whose spirits have risen marvellously in consequence,
is about to travel on the Continent with a wealthy valetudinarian.
" I have," said he, " no great reason to felicitate myself on my
change of duties, if what I underwent a few years since in a similar
relation is to weigh with me. I Was selected," continued he, " in
early life for the appointment of medical adviser to a young fa-
vourite of fortune, who had unexpectedly succeeded to a large
landed estate, and ( whose nerves had suddenly become affected/
Foreign travel was recommended : and during his wanderings he
was to be watched over by a medical attendant, who was at no time,
and under no pretext, to quit him.
The history of young Reston was somewhat singular. In boyhood
he was an agreeable, good-tempered, light-hearted lad, of popular
manners, and inconsiderable abilities, destined by his father a man
of limited means to fill the office of clerk in some mercantile
establishment. Resolved to give him every advantage which a first-
rate education could afford, Reston was placed by his prudent and
far-sighted parent at a private school, where only six boys were
received, and where morals and manners, strange to say, were
thought of nearly as much moment as classics. Among the inmates
was a lame, deformed, sickly lad, contingent heir to a baronetcy.
His name was Fleming. Between him and Reston an intimacy
* Mn Frederick Tyrrel (the late eminent surgeon) makes this statement :
le (Nicholson) was apprehended in the afternoon, and taken to the Compter
prison in Giltspur Street. I went there to see him, and was accompanied by the
governor to the cell in which he was confined. Whilst speaking to him, a little
black and dun terrier-dog placed its fore paws upon his knees, and began to lick his
breeches, which were made of some dark-coloured velveteen Observing this, the
governor directed him to remove them. On afterwards holding them up to the
ight the front part of each thigh was evidently stained, and a little moisture soon
proved it to be with blood. The governor remarked that my dog was a sagacious
little fellow ; but I could not own him, for I had never before seen him ; and all
the inquiries which were subsequently made could not discover a master for him >
t was the more extraordinary because a public notice was posted at the gates of the
pi .son forbidding the entrance of dogs. In the evening I sent to the prison, to beg
to have the dog as I heard he had not been owned, when-remarkable to say-/*
had disappeared as strangely as he had entered, AND WAS KEVEH AFTERWARDS
THE GAOL CHAPLAIN. G3
arose, founded on the natural instinct by which the weaker seeks
the stronger, and the defenceless clings to the powerful. Reston
fought his battles, wrote his themes, polished off his nonsense
verses, was always willing to walk his pace, and to accommodate
himself to his companion's physical infirmities, without apparently
perceiving them. Hapless and repulsive as the lame boy was in
person, he had a beautiful mind ; a noble nature and generous im-
pulses were his. He felt Reston's kindness deeply; and he de-
clared, that if ever he became independent, Reston should hear of
his good fortune, and be invited to share it. That result was real-
ized much sooner than was expected. Death took away, during the
next five years, both his childless uncles; and the lame, pallid,
sickly boy became Sir Carroll Cope Fleming, with a rent-roll ap-
proaching six thousand per annum. The funeral obsequies of his
predecessor had hardly been solemnized when the young baronet's
recollections reverted to his early friend, and he wrote to entreat his
presence at Fleming Park. A most cordial welcome awaited him
on his arrival ; and the day following, a proposition from his young
host that he should accompany him to Oxford, where the whole of
his university expenses would be defrayed, and every facility afford-
ed him for going to the bar, or, if he preferred it, taking holy
orders. All that Sir Carroll stipulated for in return amounted to
this, that Reston's society should be mainly at his, the young
Baronet's, disposal ; that he should accompany him to the banks of
the Isis, neither as a tutor, counsellor, or spy, but as a personal
friend ; and furthermore, that beyond Reston's immediate family
the nature of their arrangement should not transpire, The rare
delicacy of this latter condition the young man's friends felt
sensibly.
To Oxford the parties went ; and during the first long vacation
passed to the Continent. At Liege the baronet fell ill. His coni'-
plaint was pronounced malignant typhus; and the servants of the
hotel where he sickened taking fright at the announcement, shunned
him, one and all, as a doomed man. His nurse day arid night was
Reston. He administered, hour after hour, the nauseous remedies ;
smoothed the uneasy pillow, allayed the ever-recurring thirst ; held
him down in his delirious intervals, and never quitted him till his
convalescence was no longer doubtful.
The demeanour of Sir Carroll on his recovery, whether it arose
from shyness, pride, or constitutional reserve, was strange, and
miserably disappointed his companion. He never thanked him for
his past devotion never expressed any pleasure that he had escaped
infection never condemned the selfishness of those sordid menials
who had on the first announcement ot his danger abandoned him
never referred but once, and that slightly, to his own sufferings and
danger. The subject apparently was disagreeable, and, with his
usual timid policy, he shunned it.
To Reston this apparently ungrateful line of conduct was deeply
galling. He could not disguise from his own heart the conviction
that to him, humanly speaking, Sir Carroll was indebted for his life.
His own existence he felt he had unhesitatingly placed in jeopardy
rather than that the exigencies of his friend should be ill-supplied
or forgotten. Had the invalid been his own brother, Reston's feel-
ings told him he could not have nursed him more tenderly or de-
64 THE GAOL CHAPLAIN.
votedly ; and now not even the poor meed of thanks ! The more
he mused on the Baronet's coolness and indifference, the more un-
gracious did his conduct appear. And at this point their friendship
cooled ; their intercourse, once so cordial, was checked by some
indescribable restraint; their unison in thought and sentiment,
once so perfect, seemed jarred. It might be caused by a feeling of
pride on the one hand, and a sense of wrong on the other. What-
ever was its origin, the result was clear : the forms of conventional
courtesy succeeded to the frankness, and warmth, and boundless
confidence of friendship. Sir Carroll returned to Fleming Park
early in the autumn. On the 1st of October he attained his ma-
jority. On the 5th he made his will, leaving Reston, " in token of
former attention to him during illness, sole heir to all his personal
property, should he die childless," a most unfortunate determin-
ation deliberately arrived at, but pregnant with ill.
The solicitor who drew the deed submitted, more than once, to
the testator, " whether it would not be more conducive to Mr. Res-
ton's interests, and more agreeable to his (Sir Carroll's) feelings, to
settle some annuity on his travelling companion, or to make over
some property to him by deed of gift ? " No !" was the reply,
rather smartly given ; I demur to that suggestion entirely ; Res-
ton must be content, so long as I live, to be dependant on me."
" You are aware, sir," persisted the lawyer, " that your friend being
your junior by six months only, his succeeding to the property
given him by your will is a mere contingency. The clause in ques-
tion is, I was about to say, a mockery of a bequest. Do reconsider
this point." " Allow me, Mr. Hartop, to recall to you your true
position," observed the Baronet haughtily, " and remind you that
the will you are now making is mine, not your own."
The attorney bowed and was silent. The will was drawn up, put
aside for consideration, reperused, and executed. Its contents the
morning following were communicated to Reston. He listened
without the slightest apparent interest to the statement, and at its
close remarked carelessly, " I trust, Sir Carroll, this wordy docu-
ment will turn out to be so much waste paper ; you will have sons
of your own, I devoutly hope, to succeed you in your property.
Do we ride this morning ? You promised, I think, to decide on the
site of the new keeper's lodge. The day is tempting. Shall I order
the horses round ?"
Such was his comment, and the only one he was ever heard to
make with reference to the subject. Those most in his confidence
never remember his alluding, however casually or distantly, to the
"contingent inheritance" held out to him; it seemed wholly and
entirely to have escaped his recollection. But in the meantime his
patron's health manifestly failed. Repeated sharp attacks of illness
assailed him; his spirits became depressed; he grew thin, com-
plained cf constant suffering, and his features, which had become
sharp, and wan, and rigid, bore out his assertion; in truth, the
anxious, and distressed expression of his face was painfully striking.
One medical man after another was consulted ; each declared there
was something "materially wrong" in the system, but no two of
them agreed as to the precise nature of the malady. One said, it
arose from " gout lurking in the system ;" another, that it was " one
of the many effects which the attack of malignant fever had left be-
THE GAOL CHAPLAIN. 65
hind it ;" a third, that it was produced "by sparing diet and over-
exercise." But to what extent soever various M.D.'s differed as to
the seat of the Baronet's complaint, and the remedies proper to
counteract it, they were gloriously unanimous in one particular
they never refused a fee. In the multitude of consultations there
was not wisdom : no amendment took place ; and Sir Carroll deter-
mined on going to London, and conferring with Dr. Hope. The
resolution was suddenly taken and as suddenly carried out. On his
return to dinner the following day he seemed in spirits, and as Res-
ton and he sat over their dessert he exclaimed cheerfully,
" I was much pleased with Hope's manner, and think that if any
man can do me good he will. But he asked me some most extraor-
dinary questions."
"They all do," was Reston's comment; "they think it profes-
sional." "
" True : but Hope's queries were unaccountable ; and among them
was this f Have you ever to your knowledge taken any deleterious
drug any preparation or compound of which poison was an ingre-
dient ? ' Absurd, was it not ? But what ails ye, Reston ? Peste !
You 're spilling your wine over the table, and running your fork into
my fingers ! "
The old butler who was still lingering at the side-board, and whose
attention had been arrested by his master's exclamation, now hurried
towards Mr. Reston, whom he described and never varied to his
dying day in the statement as looking deadly pale, trembling
in every limb, and unable for many moments to articulate. When
he did, he gasped out
" I 've the cramp in my wrist. It is painful for the moment, but
soon over."
" What remedy will you have ? Hartshorn laudanum eau de
Cologne."
" Nothing but cold water relieves me."
And, averting his face from his host, he bathed his wrist diligently
and continuously.
" Come, Reston, that will do : you look less ghostly ; and now for
Hope you must hear the wind-up of the interview. The gravity
with which he put his question about ' deleterious substances ' was
somewhat startling. I met it with the remark ' Lots in my time,
I dare say, Doctor, were it only in the wine I drank at Oxford.
However, write for me; you'll find me a docile patient.' He did
so ; and I 've come down from town laden with new remedies. I be-
gin to-night. I must do so in earnest, for I find my evening pa-
roxysm of pain commencing. Strange that food of any kind should
so distress me ! If I could live without eating I might, perhaps,
live without torture."
He rose as he spoke, and retired to his dressing-room ; and there,
after an hour's interval, Reston visited him. The invalid seemed
cheerful ; expressed a hope that the paroxysm was past ; desired his
reading-lamp might be brought him and fixed near his sofa. " He
looked forward," he said, " to having some hours of sound sleep."
Reston bade him good night, and left him.
At ten, Halls, his valet, went into his room to take his orders for
the night. The Baronet spoke cheerfully, expressed himself free
from pain, desired a small mahogany stand on which Dr. Hope's me-
VOL. XIX. P
66 THE GAOL CHAPLAIN.
dicines were ranged to be drawn close to his bedside, and gave direc-
tions that no one in the household should sit up on his account. At
two in the morning the family was disturbed by the loud and con-
tinuous ringing of Sir Carroll's bell. Halls was the first to reach his
master's room, and when he did so found his master in the throes of
death. He was unable to utter more than a few words at a time.
Those which could be distinctly caught were " Wrong medicine !
wrong medicine ! Death ! I 'm burning ! Water ! water ! "
Convulsions came on, and in twenty minutes he expired.
In the investigation which ensued nothing satisfactory was elicit-
ed. A cloud of impenetrable mystery seemed to hover over the de-
ceased Baronet's last hours. It appeared that six weeks previously,
Sir Carroll's favourite mare, Dora, had sprained her shoulder. A ve-
terinary was called in. He brought with him an embrocation so
powerful that he desired it might, when used, be diluted copiously
with water. " He would answer," he said, " for its success with the
mare ; but a very few drops would pucker up any Christian ! " A
printed label inscribed " poison ! " was pasted on the bottle ; and " as
grooms are proverbially careless," such were Sir Carroll's own words,
" I shall keep this deadly specific in my own dressing-room. When
wanted let it be asked for ! " By what hands it had been brought
thence ; who had carefully washed off the label; how it had found its
way into the Baronet's bed-room ; when, and by whom, it was placed
among other phials on the stand by his sick-bed no one could or
chose to afford information. All was mystery and conjecture. That
the invalid had mistaken its contents had, in some paroxysm of
pain, applied to it for relief had, deceived by its appearance, ima-
gined it was a medicine proper for him to take were points inferred
rather than proved. One fact alone was clear that he had perished,
and that the agent of his destruction was poison.
His demise brought instant wealth and consequence to Mr. Res-
ton. To him fell all the Baronet's personal property a bequest
much more important than was at first surmised. The heir-at-law
wished to invalidate the will ; but it had been too carefully and se-
curely worded to admit of dispute.
" It was singular," observed Dr. Todrigg emphatically, and no
less singular than true, that Reston ceased to be happy the moment
he ceased to be dependent. The gaiety and cheerfulness of manner,
once so natural to him, fled. The merry laugh and humorous reply
so often the provocative to mirth in others, were never heard. He
looked a saddened, joyless, despondent man. His family said he
'had never recovered the shock of Sir Carroll's death, to whom he
was devotedly attached/ his apothecary maintained that 'the sud-
den and surprising change in his worldly circumstances had un-
nerved his system.' I adopt neither opinion/' said Dr. Todrigg
shrewdly ; but he was a curious specimen of < a fortunate youns: man'
when his friends placed him under my special charge. And now
observe the folly of which educated people people who should know
better are guilty, and the pains they take to deceive and mislead
tne man by whose advice they profess themselves desirous to be di-
rected. When young Reston was confided to my care, his previous
history was carefully withheld from me. He was even introduced
under my roof with a feigned name. I asked the particulars of his
case, and received for answer that he had unexpectedly succeeded to
THE GAOL CHAPLAIN. 67
considerable property, and was labouring under undue nervous ex-
citement. A secluded village in Somersetshire, nestling under the
Cheddar Hills, was to be his temporary home, and thither I was re-
quired to accompany him. Promises of ample remuneration were
held out to me if success attended my course of treatment : but 110
medical regimen would reach his case. Take what exercise he
might during the day, he could not sleep. Pending the three months
he was with me, I have my doubts whether he ever had, at any one
time, two hours of sound, refreshing, continuous sleep. And when,
perchance, his weary eyelids closed, and a snatch of repose of some
twenty or thirty minutes was granted him, he talked incessantly.
During the day he was taciturn, reserved, and guarded; but when
he slept if sleep it could be called his loquacity was continuous.
Of this I had ample means of judging. His sleeping-room communi-
cated with mine there were obvious reasons why such an arrange-
ment was desirable ; and the moment he was locked in slumber, his
burdened spirit relieved itself. He would commence in a low mur-
muring, which gradually deepened in strength and volume till his
exclamations became painfully distinct. ' I am not to blame it was
his own act and deed. No ! I did not offer it I wasn't with him.
It was his own blunder. How came the phial there ? How ! -
Why am I to tell? I won^t! I won't I' A succession of shrieks
would follow ; and in the midst of these he wakes. At another
time he would break out with * Ask me no questions ! I intend to
keep my own secret! Yes! he grew thinner and, thinner. What
have I to do with that ? They say you killed him ? False ! False !
He killed himself ! D'ye hear? he killed himself! Oh! it was
cleverly done cleverly done, indeed ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! ' And in the
midst of a peal of laughter, horrible to hear, the poor wretched crea-
ture would wake, nor close his eyes again for hours."
' ' And what became of him ultimately ? "
" I returned him to his friends ; and, as I did so, could not forbear
remarking that he required ' the divine more than the physician.' "
"And his end?"
" Oh ! he still lives abroad, I understand, and under restraint ;
but his bodily health is little, if at all impaired."
"A sad history !"
" Yes, Mr. Cleaver, but it points its moral. I never think of Res-
ton without feeling there is a worse ill than poverty than disappoint-
ed expectations than blighted prospects than false friends,- the ill
of a guilty conscience, burdened with a load of unrepented sin.
This reconciles me to my threadbare coat at any time."
He wrung my hand in silence and left me.
It was thus we parted.
CHAPTER LXXVI.
RETIREMENT.
" Make your adieux gracefully ; and see that your last words be those of amity
and peace." MRS. GRANT, of Laggnn,
INDICATIONS had not latterly been wanting that my retirement
from office was an event for which some of the magistrates were
prepared.
F 2
68 MY MOTHER.
I was told that I had " grown old :" a misfortune beyond my
power to avert. It was added, that my " voice was broken :" con-
stant exertion will tell. Furthermore, it was urged that some of the
prisoners complained that they ' ' could not " hear me : I changed the
phraseology of the complaint somewhat, and wrote " WOULD NOT."
Finally and overwhelmingly, it was asserted that the Governor de-
scribed me as " prosy," an indefinite term, but involving a volume
of accusation.
I resolved to resign.
I cannot but say that I fancied some little gratuity might have
been awarded me, after my anxious, painful, and irksome term of
labour : others thought differently, and I submit.
It is not unusual for the village curate to sigh over his position ;
to be chafed by the ignorance, opposition, and obduracy of the peo-
ple to whom he has to minister ; and to be alternately ruffled and
humbled by the eccentricities, caprices, and vaccillation of some in-
valid and uncertain incumbent. Brother labourer ! be thankful that
such is your lot.
At all events, let nothing but the direst necessity induce you to
change it for the bondage of
A GAOL CHAPLAIN.
MY MOTHER.
" I heard the bell toll on thy burial day,
I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away,
And, turning from thy nursery-window, drew
A long last sigh, and wept a last adieu !" COWPEH.
MY sainted mother ! thou hast bade I wept to think of losing thee,
This earth a long good-night ; And sooner would have gone
And changed thy garb of sadness here To rest beneath the churchyard tree,
For one of fadeless light ! Than be an orphan lone !
Imagination often brings A j -L. 1 1
Thy features mild and fair ; And thou wouldst soothe me >
But beautiful as they were once, TIT- i? ne> i
How lovelier in yo^ sphere ! ' TT * *f tie word and J ?*
Until the torrent of my grief
The flowers have bloom'd and died full Became a rippling brook ;
oft, And then thou hadst some holy hymn
As leaves upon the tree ; To lull me to repose ;
And many suns have rose and set, Until the tears would leave mine eyes,
Since thou wert last with me : And slee P their lids would close !
But still I can indulge the thought And when the hour of sickness came
That thou art near me yet, Thy ministering hand
rr , i t e murraur on m 7 1{ P S > Would kindle up anew the flame
To calm my vain regret ! That smoulder'd on the brand
Sweet mother ! I remember well Al } d then 1 a heav ' nl y smile would c me
How in thy doating joy, A U P n *? ^-worn brow
Thou wouldst enfold me to thy breast, As *"% WOuldst mark Wlth watchful
And bless thy little boy ; ,, glanc< l. . ,
And o'er my cheek would softly fall The s P readm g of *e bough !
Tears of maternal love, But ere the branch, like hope, had borne
As on the bud untimely chiH'd Its trembling leaves of green,
The dew floats from above ! A veil was o'er its freshness thrown,
A shadow went between !
And I remember, too, when oft My mother ! thou wert call'd above-
Within thine arms I lay ; To death thy form was given
I sobb'd the pray'r that Death would./?/-** But thy meek spirit soar'd on high,
Take me, thy child, away ! To rest its wings in heav'n !
69
OUTPOURINGS.
BY D. CANTER.
LIBATION THE NINTH.
The Histrionic Art. Difficulty of excelling in it. Cooke. Knight. The unpo-
pular Tragedian. Amateur Actors. Earl Fitzhardinge. Major Dawkins.
Lord Frederick Lennox, &c. Amateur Theatricals. Critic at Brandenburg
House. The unwashed Othello. The black Gloves. Private Theatres. Kean
at the Louvre. An Evening at Pym's. Corps Dramatique dressing. The
Coulisses. Stage Fright. The Performances.
Reader ! Did yon ever go to a private theatre ? No ! Then you
shall accompany me to Pym's. But first a few facts, &c., relating to
acting and amateur performances in general.
Of all arts, the histrionic is the most deceptive. Nothing appears
easier than to act; and the better the acting, the easier it seems.
But that acting which is the most simple and natural, like the most
simple and natural style in writing, is the most difficult of attain-
ment, and only to be achieved by close thinking and treadmill
labour. Rousseau wrote with extreme difficulty; while in the copies
of "Richard III.," "Macbeth," &c., from which Cooke studied, nearly
every wordj k he had to deliver was underlined. Little Knight, too,
was a most elaborate actor. He has been known to dress for his
part hours before he was wanted, and wander about the avenues
near the stage, assuming the gait and dialect of his character, in
order to work himself into it ; so that, when he went on the stage,
he might be said to be in the middle of his performance. Knight
was the Gerard Dow of his profession. He laboured incessantly.
His Sim in " Wild Oats" was a perfect gem. He played in the dis-
training scene so exquisitely that it was frequently encored a tri-
bute never payed to talent before or since.
So completely is acting reduced to system, that any departure
from it, even in the delivery of a message, would cause confusion,
and might seriously embarrass the performers concerned. Advantage
was taken of this to annoy a certain tragedian, the impetuosity of
whose temper made him very unpopular in the greenroom. It
was settled that one of the company should get hold of the prompt-
book previous to rehearsal, and alter all the entrances and exits in
X 's scenes, which was done.
" Right ! sir, Right ! You must enter Right !" bawled X to
the first performer who came on to him. " You're on your wrong
side, Mr. T !"
" No, sir ; I believe not, sir," returned the latter, referring to his
part, which, of course, had been altered to correspond with the
prompt-book, " No ; I believe you '11 find I 'm correct Mr. X ."
"You're on your wrong side, I tell you, sir!" thundered X ,
beginning to get the steam up. " The Ambassador always comes on
Right , sir ! D'ye think I don't know ?"
" I don't mean to dispute your knowledge on the subject, Mr.
X . All I know is, it 's set down Left in my part here and
"Then it's set down wrong, sir!" interrupted X ; dashing
70 OUTPOURINGS.
down the part, " Sacred Powers ! Haven't I played in this play in
half the theatres in the kingdom, and oughtn't I to know ? I tell
you the '< Ambassador" always comes on Right, sir, and I request
you'll do so."
"Of course I should be most happy to meet your wishes, Mr.
X ; but, as I marked my part from the prompt-book"
" It's false, sir !"
" Really, this language, Mr. X"
" I repeat it, sir : it's false! If it's marked Left in the prompt-
book, I '11 eat it. You 've made a mistake, sir !"
" A mistake I may have made, Mr. X , though I don't think I
have."
"Sacred Powers! But we'll soon Here, Macnally ! bring the
prompt-book. Ha ! here it is now for it. We '11 soon see who 's
wrong (reads)." Enter the Ambassador. " LEFT, it is by*!"
And so on, all through the rehearsal.
Of course the performances of amateurs in so difficult an art, of
which they are necessarily ignorant, can afford little entertainment,
except in line-of-battle ships and foreign garrisons, where, from a
lack of other amusement, one of Morton's, or Coleman's comedies,
even indifferently played, becomes a positive pleasure. In fact,
many of our officers, from constantly assisting at amateur perform-
ances, become very tolerable artistes. Colonel Berkeley, the present
Earl Fitzhardinge, was, to say the least, a respectable actor ; so was
Major Dawkins; so was Lord Frederick Lennox. Whitelaw of
the artillery even approached excellence in Munden's parts ; and I
have seen Captain Peach play Mingle in " The Beehive," at the Fish
Shamble Street Theatre, quite as well as any actor in the Crow
Street Company would have done.
Amateur theatricals given at a private house are the pleasantest.
These sometimes conclude with a ball, but generally with a supper,
which, at Tavistock Place, I used to think not the least agreeable
part of the evening's entertainment, since it brought me into contact
with Mathews, or Listen, or Little Booth, or Little Britton, as he
was punningly called, or some other celebrity I should not other-
wise have enjoyed an opportunity of meeting. The theatricals at
Lord Barrymore's, Mr. Foley's, The Oaks, Blenheim, and Branden-
burgh House, were of this description. I remember meeting at
these latter a critic whom Sterne would have found more difficult to
classify than his travellers. " Capital actors, sir, capital !" said this
Aristarchus, turning to me (the conspirators' scene in Venice Pre-
served" was on), " Why, the united incomes of those gentlemen now
on the stage, sir, would exceed seventy thousand pounds !"
Amateurs always attempt too much. If they would confine them-
selves to a vaudeville or petite comedie, it would form an agreeable
feature in an evening's entertainment, and vary that monotony which
too frequently prevails in our salons. I once tried this experiment
at my own house, when it answered perfectly. Before the company
had time to get tired, the performance was over, and a fresh quadrille
organized. This is better than a bal costume or tableau vivans, in
which the actors have all the trouble of dressing, with little' or
nothing to do. Sometimes a single scene or recitation may be in-
troduced to advantage, as I have seen done at Lady Greslev's and
other houses.
OUTPOURINGS. "71
One night Major P H , Colonel C , of G , with
one or two others, who were supping at the Bugle Inn, at Newport,
agreed to amuse themselves in this manner. A scene from " Othello"
was fixed upon, Othello, by the Colonel, who, in order to look the
character, blackened his face all over with a burnt cork belonging to
one of the empty champagne bottles, that stood under the side-board.
The night was far spent, when Lady B 's coachman, who
waited to drive the Colonel home, and who had made several at-
tempts to get the Colonel away, sent up word that " he couldn't
keep his horses out any longer, and if the Colonel didn't come im-
mediately, he must drive direct to S without him." The latter,
not wishing to compromise an old and valued servant, instantly
complied, and dismissing the carriage at the lodge, walked up to the
house, let himself in with a latch key, and went straight to bed,
quite forgetting .that his face was blackened all over.
In the morning Mrs. C awoke, and turning round, discovered
a black man snoring by her side ! Too much frightened to scream,
she jumped out of bed, rang the bell furiously, and wound herself in
the bed-curtains.
In rushed the lady's-maid and housekeeper.
" Oh ma'am ! what 's the matter, ma'am ? " cried both in a breath.
"Nothing happened to the Colonel, I hope, ma'am ? " said the
butler at the door.
' ' Hope master ain't took with a fit, ma'am ! " pursued the footman,
peering over the butler's shoulder.
f< Oh ! take it away ! take it away !" cried Mrs. C , speaking
with great difficulty, and giving herself another twist in the bed-
curtains.
"What is it, ma'am? what is it?" said the femme-de-chambre,
frightened out of her wits,
" Is it in the bed, ma'am ? " inquired the housekeeper, waddling
up to it.
" Kna-a-aw ! " snored the still slumbering Othello.
" Thieves ! Murder ! " screamed the women, running out again.
" Thieves ! Murder ! " echoed Mrs. C , applying herself to
the bell da capo.
t( Don't be alarmed, ma'am," said the butler bolting in, followed
by the footman and groom, armed with what weapons they could lay
their hands on, "we'll soon secure the rascals. Lads, mind your
heads ! " and with this he gallantly flourished the Colonel's sabre,
which he had appropriated ; and, supported by the rest of the party,
approached the bed.
"Hallo !" roared the Colonel, starting on his "head's antipodes,"
for he had been awakened by the hubbub.
" The devil, by gum ! " cried the groom, overturning his compa-
triots in his eagerness to escape.
" Help ! murder ! " vociferated Mrs. C , stamping and jerking
down the bell-pull.
" Help ! murder !" reiterated the footman, scrambling out of the
room on all-fours, as if he were acting a stag-hound in some mytho-
logical charade.
" Here, Tom ! Dick ! Come back, you rascals ! " cried the bewil-
dered Colonel, throwing his nightcap after them. " John ! you old
fool you, get up! Where's your mistress? If you don't get up this
72 OUTPOURINGS.
instant and tell me the meaning of all this, and who keeps screaming
behind the curtain, here, I '11 fling the bolster at you, I will, you o
villain ! Are you all mad ? "
<< Bless me ! is it you, sir ? " said the butler, rising and rubbing
the small of his back.
"La ! my dear ! is it you?" cried Mrs. C , peeping.
" Me ! to be sure it is ! Who the plague should it be ? What are
you both laughing at ? What were you all so frightened for ? Did
you take me for the devil ? "
" We did, indeed, sir," said the butler, as soon as he could speak.
" And no wonder ! " cried Mrs. C , laughing heartily. " What
in the world have you done to your face, my dear ? "
" Face ! What 's the matter with my face ? " inquired the Colonel,
who had forgotten all about the previous night's theatricals.
"Nay, you best know/' rejoined his better half. "John, bring
the Colonel that glass."
" Eh ! Oh ! I recollect now," said the Colonel, looking at himself.
"Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho! Capital! glorious! No wonder
you took me for the devil ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! How
H and the rest 'em will laugh when they hear this. John, you
may go. And when the servant had left the room, the Colonel ex-
plained the matter.
But the best species of amateur performances are those given for
charitable purposes, by which large sums have been raised that
could not have been obtained in any other way. The officers of the
artillery at Woolwich frequently played for the poor. I undertook
to enact Mrs. Malaprop on one of these occasions. But Boscawen,
of the engineers, who was cast for Falkland, being unexpectedly or-
dered on the survey the morning previous to the performance, I was
obliged to resign the lady to Mrs. S , and assume the lover. As I
had so short a time to study the character in, I proposed at rehearsal
that Falkland's last interview with Julia should be omitted. But
Mrs. Warner, then Miss Huddart she will smile if she sees this
who was engaged to play Julia, very naturally objected to an ar-
rangement which deprived her of her only opportunity of displaying
herself.
"O mamma!" she exclaimed, going up to her mother, "what
d'ye think ? They 're going to cut out my scene, ' Follow you in
beggary through the world ! ' you know, and all that. Oh 1 this will
never do ! I shall be ruined ! "
Of course, rather than that should happen, I immediately offered
to do my best to go through the scene.
" O sir ! you will find no difficulty at all in it. You 've only to
let me take the stage, and say, Nay I ' and But ! ' when I stop
speaking ; and then go off, clasping your hands in despair, at the op-
posite wing, when I make my exit." All which I promised very
faithfully to do.
But alas ! on the night of performance I nearly marred all. As
Falkland is a melancholy sort of personage, I resolved, in the simpli-
city of my soul, to wear black gloves ! little dreaming that in so doing
I should be acting in direct opposition to stage etiquette, which en-
joins a heroine, even when she goes mad, to appear in white. When
Miss Huddart saw me emerge from the dressing-room in these betes
noires her agony was intense. She couldn't venture to apprise a
OUTPOURINGS. 73
total stranger of such a solecism ; and yet to allow him to expose
himself to entail ridicule on her daughter in those horrid black
gloves, it wasn't to be thought of! In this extremity she applied
to Mrs. S , who undertook to make black white, which, being no
more than she was accustomed to, she found no difficulty in accom-
plishing ; and Mrs. Huddart had the satisfaction of hearing her
daughter's Julia applauded to the echo, as it deserved to be.
Mrs. Mathews, in her amusing memoirs of her husband, mentions
accompanying him to one of these performances, where, by some
mistake, Mathews was obliged to pay for admission. It would have
been worth a Jew's eye to have witnessed the quaint comic surprise
of our great monologist on this occasion. I can imagine nothing
richer. I well remember encountering Mathews in the lobby of the
Woolwich Theatre on the night in question. He was then giving
his " At Homes ! " and complained of the soreness of his tongue no
wonder !
The performances at a private theatre in London, are altogether on
a different plan from those I have just been mentioning. In fact,
the whole establishment assimilates to a regular theatre, except that
the performers pay instead of the audience ; and if the audience were
paid for sitting out the performances, it would be an improvement.
A private theatre has its own manager, its own orchestra, its own
frizeur, its own scene- shifter, its own door-keeper, its own old
woman, its own wardrobe, its own scenery, its own green-room, its
own traps, its own wind, its own thunder, and its own lightning !
The company, too, like their more legitimate brethren, invest them-
selves with a professional halo, and indulge in the prestige of a repu-
tation. They have their cabals and their claqueurs their admirers
and their enemies their jealousies and their heart-burnings. They
talk of their pet-parts and their bits of fat. They understand what
OP., PS., UE., UEL., and other cabalistic characters portend. They
can make up their own faces, and fasten on their own wigs. They
know the difference between tunics and shapes ; and can metamor-
phose a common coat into a dress coat by merely suspending frogs
from the buttons. They are deep in the mysteries of crossings, com-
bats, gaggings, and stage daggers ; and can even fall flat on their
backs without hurting themselves. They know where swords, stars,
spangles, feathers, sandals, fleshings, and second-hand russet boots
are to be bought. In a word, they may be considered in all respects
as so many Rosciuses in embryo ; and, in fact, not a few actors find
their way to the regular boards through the medium of a private
theatre.
Pym's was and perhaps is, for I am speaking of some fifteen
years ago the most respectable establishment of this description.
The corps dramatique consisted chiefly of commercial young men, and
young men in lawyers' and government offices. Pym himself
had been an actor ; but, becoming independent, quitted the stage,
and, fitting up a large assembly-room at the back of his house as a
theatre, continued as an amusement, what he had followed as a pro-
fession. Pym possessed great requisites for the stage. Had he con-
tinued on it, I have little doubt he would have excelled in such parts
as Sir Peter Teazle, Sir Anthony Absolute, &c. Holl, Elton, Rum-
ball, Harley, Heslop, Archer, Selby, Frazer, Perry, Planche, Wyman,
and John Reeve, first tried their strength at Pym's.
74 OUTPOURINGS.
Pym was intimate with Kean, whom he accompanied to Paris.
He was present when this distinguished actor first visited the
Louvre. That perception of the sublime and beautiful, inherent in
Kean, instinctively attracted him to the finest statues which yet re-
mained in the collection. He was observed to pay particular atten-
tion to the arrangement of the draperies, from which, no doubt, he
derived many valuable hints.
*****
Ah ! here we are at Pym's.
Now, would you like to witness what is called STAGE FRIGHT ?
STAGE FRIGHT!
Yes. A restlessness, an increasing nervousness as the time for
going on the stage approaches, which sometimes even the oldest
actors are never wholly free from ;* but which, of course, most of
these tyros are more or less afflicted with. You would ! Then ac-
company me into the dressing-room. The curtain won't go up this
half-hour, and we shall have high fun. Allans I
Scene. Dressing-room at Pym's; Corps dramatique at
their toilette ; all very nervous, particularly Mr. Fuss-
fussy, who is in a prodigious fright lest he shouldn't
be ready, though not wanted till the farce.
Fussfussy (arranging hts neckcloth for the fiftieth time}. That
rascal Thackeray, f why isn't he here ! I know I shall be late !
Mumble (who rather thinks he has painted only one side of his face'}.
I wish to G d you 'd let me come to the glass, Fussfussy ! You
won't be wanted these four hours, and I begin the play.
Fussfussy (pulling his neckcloth into a knot and stamping about the
room). Oh! oh ! I know I shall be late! I I'm sure I shall be
late ! (runs against Heavystern, who is exaggerating his eye-brow with
a burnt cork).
Heavystern. D n it, Fussfussy ! I wish you'd mind what you're
about. Just see what you've done now ! You've made me make
this eyebrow here as big as a coal barge. Most extraordinary you
can't keep still, sir !
Squeak (making up his face for the Old Man). Send him to the still.
room.
Heavystern (trying to wash off his eye-brow). Oh ! curse your puns !
I shall never get this eye-brow off! Can any gentleman accommo-
date me with a little bear's grease ?
Fussfussy. Untie this for me, Bloater ! Now do !
Bloater (trying to coax a hook-and-eye into an united slate). Can't
now can't upon my soul ! You must ask somebody else. Whew !
Fussfussy. Oh ! I know I shall be late ! II (Treads on Pym t
who enters in a grey Bath dressing-gown),
Pym (rubbing his foot). Really Mr. Fussfussy that's toe much
All (surrounding Pym). O Pym ! I want a sword ! Pym ! I
want a pistol ! Pym ! you 've forgot to put out my trunks ! Pvm !
Where's my tunic ? &c. &c. &c.
Pym (enjoying his delightful agonies). Really, gentlemen, one at a
time, gentlemen! Don't eat me! Don't tear me to pieces. (Un-
* " Oh ! J can>t f n to-night, Waldron," Jack Bannister would say as he
stood trembling at the wmg ; - an apology raust be made for me ! and when bis
cue came, Waldron had to push him on. + Thefrizettr
75
leeks wardrobe, and lakes out two greenbaize tunics.) Who's the
army ? (Throws tunics on table.)
Rantall (who plays the Aero). By the bye, who goes on for the
army ? I shall make a regular mull of my scene if I haven 't an
army.
Enter Crofts .*
Crofts. Mr. Pym ! -Mr. Pym f you *re wanted ! There 's two gen-
tlemen below wants to speak with you immediately.
Pym (locking wardrobe}. Well, well, I'm coming. Really, at this
rate, you know (smiling). I wonder they don't tear me into a thou-
sand pieces ! (goes down.)
Enter Thackeray with his bag of wigs.
All. Thackeray, you rogue ! you villain ! Where have you been
all this time ?
Thackeray. We 're all rogues ! We 're all villains, gentlemen !
But I come as soon as I could, he! he! The fact is, a gentleman
from Wilmington Square,* popped in about some wigs just as I was
about to start, and The gentlemen in the play first, if you please,
Mr. Fussfussy. Dear me ! You 've sat down in the wash-hand
basin, he ! he ! Hope you haven 't hurt yourself.
Fussfussy. Oh ! oh !
Rantall. Thackeray, you old villain ! I hope you haven 't forgotten
my wig,
Thackeray (dressing Mumble's hair). Oh no sir ! You need not
be afraid of that, he ! he! It isn't likely I should forget your wig,
sir. I know (his mind misgives him.) Leastways, I'm pretty sure
I put it into my bag here. Now Mr. Heavystern
Prompter (putting in his head). Half-past eight, gentlemen ! I'm
going to ring in the music (disappears).
EanialL Hollo ! I say ! I'm not half ready yet.
Many voices. No more am I ! no more am I !
Heavystern. Run down, Fussfussy, and tell him to wait a little.
, Fussfussy. Oh! I can't I won't l(Tingk! Tingle! Tingle!)
Mumble. Zounds ! there he goes ! Where are my gauntlets ? Has
anybody seen my gauntlets ? Well ! I' 11 swear I had 'em here not
two minutes ago, and now
Thackeray. He! he ! Why you've got 'em on, sir.
Mumble. Gad ! so I have ! I was in a precious stew. How
nervous having to open the play makes one (goes down).
Rantall. Now, Thackeray, I'm ready for my wig.
Thackeray (after putting it on). There, sir ! Now I think you'll do
capitally.
Rantall (looking in glass). Gracious Heavens ! What's this? Why
this is not the wig I tried on at your house yesterday !
Thackeray. Upon my honour, sir As I hope to be saved, sir
Rantall (taking off wig and dashing it on the floor). Oh ! I'm ruin-
ed annihilated ! I can never go on for the Baron in such a d d
thing as that !
Thackeray (taking up wig). I assure you, sir, it looks very well.
It does indeed, sir ! It's a capital good wig for the Baron, though
Mr. Monotonous does abuse it.
Rantall (contemptuously). Monotonous ! much he knows about it !
* The scene shifter. * A rival establishment.
76 OUTPOURINGS.
Thackeray. He ! he ! not much indeed, sir ! He ! he ! Did you
his Othello last Tuesday, sir ?
Rantall. Othello! Mungo, you mean. It was a precious sight
more like Mungo.
Thackeray. He ! he ! It was indeed, sir ! I never saw such a
mess as he made of it ! he ! he ! Come now, just let me put this on
again, and (replaces wig). There ! I know you'll like that wig,
sir, when you look again.
Enter Spooney.
Rantall (holding up green baize tunic}. Here, Spooney ! you must
go on for the army.
Spooney (putting on tunic). What fun it is ! (goes down.)
Rantall (holding up the other tunic). Here's Monotonous ! I'll try
to get him to go on for the other.
Enter Monotonous whistling, with his hands in his
pockets. He looks daggers at Rantall.
Rantall. Come, now, do ! I'll do as much for you, you know,
ha ! ha ! ha ! Come, a man who can play Othello so splendidly, can
afford to eh ! Thackeray ?
Thackeray. He ! he ! I should think so, sir.
Monotonous. Mr. Rantall Sir! I've the highest respect for you,
and shall be happy to make myself useful, as Pym knows ; but if I
go on for the army I'm something unpleasanted ! (Aside) Well !
how Pym could cast that man for the Baron while I'm in the com-
pany I (goes down whistling.)
Prompter (below'). Mr. Heavystern ! Mr. Heavystern ! I'm going
to ring up !
Heavystern (seizing his part). I'm coming! (Runs down.)
Descend we to the coulisses audience clamorous, overture play-
ing for the fourth time, Spooney and Squeak waltzing, Mumble
peeping through the curtain.
Prompter. Clear the stage, there ! clear the stage ! I 'm going to
ring up.
Mrs. Pym's maid (supporting Miss Tibbs at the wing). Stop ! stop !
Miss Tibbs is going to faint.
Prompter. Miss Tibbs must wait, then.
Miss Mincing. Oh ! oh ! support me, Betty ! I 'm going to faint
too!
Betty (angrily). You really must stop, mem, until Miss Tibbs is
done. It's impossible to undertake the sitawation if ladies keps
a-fainting together in this sort of (stamping and cat-calls).
Prompter. Clear the stage there, can't you ? Where 's Crofts ?
Squeak (to Heavystern). I say, shall I do ?
Heavystern. Do ! you 're done. What possessed you to score
your face all over in that manner ? You look as if you were peep-
ing through a gridiron.
Squeak. Oh dear ! and I haven't time to (stamping and cat-calls
again).
Prompter. Why, Crofts ! and be hanged to you !
Mumble, I say, we shall get preciously cut up. There's the
editor of " The Stage " * in the pit.
* The British Stage," a monthly periodical, in which the performances at
Fym s were occasionally noticed.
THE DEATH OF SAPPHO. 77
AIL What a shame ! I wonder Pym
Tremendous uproar; cries of "Shame! shame!" SfC.
Prompter rings. Crofts, after two or three attempls t
succeeds in raising the curtain.
Prompter. Now Conrad and Aldobrand
Heavy stern (discovering an aperture in his tights). Stop ! lower the
curtain 1 I can't go on.
Mumble. No more can I ! I 've forgot my pistol
Prompter. Pshaw ! (Pushes them on.)
For the first three acts matters progress tolerably. Occasionally
the stage waits, and occasionally some one comes on before his cue is
given. Sometimes in taking off' a hat a wig comes off too, and
sometimes a pistol misses fire, necessitating the destined victim to do
his death-agonies without any ostensible cause. Then the drop will
fall when it oughtn't, and won't fall when it ought, while the slides,
with that innate obstinacy for which matter is so remarkable, will
stick. Still, in spite of these little accidents, Mr. Rantall does won-
ders. His crack speech in the fourth act elicits three distinct
rounds of applause, which strike daggers into the heart of the envi-
ous Monotonous, who is lolling against the boxes, with his hands in
his pockets, near a knot of his especial admirers, to whom he turns
every now and then ejaculating " Oh Ch st !" and shrugging up
his shoulders. This invariably provokes a laugh from his satellites,
which at length subdues the patience of the indignant Rantall, who,
addressing the audience, expresses his fixed determination " not to
proceed with his part until those blackguards are turned out." A
tumult ensues; the manager rushes on, asserts his own dignity, and
the dignity of his establishment; rebukes the culpable, compliments
the peaceable, restores harmony, and the entertainments proceed.
THE DEATH OF SAPPHO.
UPON Leucadia's rocky peak The beauty of the deathless mind,
Forsaken Sappho stood ; The charm of intellect refined.
The woes which language fail'd to speak What raatter if eac h silken tress
She sigh'd unto the flood, Was rave n-black or burnish'd gold ;
And evermore that restless wave Either might add fresh i ove liness
Back to the breeze her murmurs gave. To matc hless charms of mortal mould :
All gloriously the sunlight shone Nor priestess at the Delphic shrine
O'er mountain, plain, and dell ; Had more of majesty divine !
As lingering on his golden throne And ever mid the clouds that swept
He bade her isle farewell : Across that marble brow
And thyme m living fragance sweet There g i eam > d a hope which never slept,
Purpled the ground beneath her feet. A deep prop b.etic glow,
But sunshine gay, and scented air, The proud instinct that future fame
Sooth'd not the stricken breast ; Would circle round a deathless name !
Where Love had madden'd to despair, Qne look to that bri ht home she cast
And passion wrung from rest : The cradle of her love and song
Betray'd, deserted, anguish now, Qne ph^zied look it was her last,
Flush'd that pale cheek andhaughty brow. For why should Care its hours prolong ?
She had not wept, no, not one tear One rush, one plunge, the waters close
Had dimmM that radiant eye ; Above the gifted one's repose.
For all was fix'd and dark despair, But from that evening ec ho bore
XTT-U v 01061 ^ 8 ^y : . Her love-plaint distant lands to fill ;
When Hope's last lingering rays depart, And maidens on the Lesbian shore
Tears spring not to relieve the heart. At Sappho's burning song would
Was she not beautiful ? Some say thrill ;
That she was not ; but we aver Too late might Phaon's self excuse
That beauty with divinest ray His treachery to so sweet a muse."
Was shriued and centred then in her ; II. B. K.
' , "78
_'
QUACK AND QUACKERY.
BY A PHYSICIAN.
" For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange hermetick powder,
That wounds nine miles point blank would solder ;
B skilful chymist with great cost
Extracted from a rotten post." Hudilras.
THE history of mankind may be aptly compared to a zigzag line,
a chain of depressions and elevations of intellect. In all ages, and
in every country which has reached a certain point of civilization,
we find superstition and pure religion, credulity and sound judg-
ment, ignorance and wisdom, alternately swaying the passions and
influencing the actions of the human race. On a retrospect of the
earliest periods of society, we perceive that the infant nation ig
doomed to groan under the fetters of superstition, forged on the
anvil of idolatry, enchaining the mind to the level of the most de-
basing credulity; but, by degrees, as knowledge advances, theses
bonds are loosed, and the delusions of a subtile and crafty priest-
hood are beheld melting away before the sun of a purer faith. Iri
affairs of a more sublunary description, in morals, in arts, in
commerce, and even in science, we perceive the same changes, the
law offeree, all-powerful at first, yielding to a respect for that of
justice; the narrow jealousy of the early trader giving way to the
enlarged views of the modern merchant ; whilst art and science, not
confined to abstract speculations, bring discoveries undreamed of into
broad day, and render them subservient to the purposes of ordinary
life. Even as respects war, the civilized world seems, ever and
anon, advancing to adult age : the ambition of individuals fails to in-
volve, in its daring grasp, the welfare of nations, and to lead thou-
sands of reasonable beings, totally uninterested in the event, into the
field of contest and slaughter. Well, indeed, would it be for man-
kind, were the changes always for the better, were the progress of
improvement uninterrupted; but, although society rarely retro-
grades in all points, at any advanced period, yet it does so in some;
and if it escapes the tyranny of the olden superstition, it lapses,
occasionally, again under the sway of mistaken and theoretical doc-
trines in religion and in government. In looking upon this picture
of society, it is curious to observe how fixed the love of the marvel-
lous and the belief in the boastings of medical empiricism remain,
amidst all these changes. Nor is this confined to the uneducated
portion of the people ; we find it pervading all ranks, the high and
the low, the rich and the poor, the peasant and the statesman, the,
thoughtless idler and the contemplative philosopher, all seem to
embrace the same faith, all bend the knee before the brazen image
which presumption and knavery have reared for their worship ; and
all give ready credence to the most absurd promises of the most
ignorant pretenders, when labouring under disease. No history
would unveil more completely the weaknesses of human nature than
that of quackery, none raise a deeper blush upon the cheek of those
who would elevate, almost to the rank of divinity, rational and in-
tellectual man.
I have been led to these reflections by a conversation which I
QUACKS AND QUACKERY. 79
held a month ago with an old friend, a country squire, who had not
visited the metropolis for upwards of thirty years, but who, a short
time since, at length ventured to town to be cured of ant old-stand-
ing and increasing gout, by what he termed a true rail-road prac-
tice, agreeable, rapid, and effectual. Unhappily for the celebrity of
his highly-gifted doctor, the hunting-season commenced sooner than
the curative influence of his pills. My friend, impatient to escape
from town, came to me, like a lady to the confessional, acknowledged
his error, denounced the doctor as a humbug, and humbly promised
to conform to my advice respecting the future management of his
health, provided I would leave one pint of port and two glasses of
sherry at his daily disposal, and should not insist upon more than
one banyan day of water-gruel and arrow-root, when he ventured to
exceed, by a very little, the limits of my allowance.
Honest Jack Holmes, the individual in question, has a rent-roll of
four thousand a-year ; spends the greatest part of his time in hunt-
ing and other country sports, and enjoys to the utmost the luxuries
of the table, especially what he terms a bottle of good English
port, which has no headache in it, and can hurt no reasonable man.
It is in vain to persuade Jack that to this genuine English beverage,
and other parts of what is erroneously termed good living, he owes
the gout under which he has been labouring upwards of thirty
years, and from the repeated attacks of which he is now scarcely
ever free. But, with all this irregularity in living, Jack is no fool ;
he is an excellent Justice of the Peace, knows well the distinguish-
ing features between crimes and indiscretions, and has liberality
enough, notwithstanding a perfect Nimrod, to acknowledge that,
although he has the power of transporting a poacher, yet it is a hard
sentence, and should be rarely executed. Jack has also as much
general knowledge as most country gentlemen, who have been
educated to spend four thousand a-year; but he forms peculiar
opinions on many subjects with which he is unacquainted, and upon
medicine in particular he has notions decidedly his own. A medi-
cine, he contends, should act like a horse : " When a mare," says
he, " has once taken a leap, she will always take the same leap
again, and a medicine which has once cured gout, should always
cure it ; if it cannot do this, it is good for nothing." With such
ideas, it is not wonderful that Jack should quarrel with his country
physician, and should try successively every nostrum, advertised to
cure the malady under which he so severely suffers. Having met
with nothing but disappointments, the worthy squire was at length
advised to visit the metropolis, and place himself under the care of
one of those ^Esculapian sages who have decided that diseases and
remedies are mere synonymes ; that the similia similibus is the only
true foundation of the healing art ; that remedies, in attacking
diseases, do not act on the principle of " pull baker pull devil," but
that both disease and remedy are devils, and when one enters a
body, he can only be coaxed out of it by the civilities of another of
the same family : doctors, in short, who, like miniature-painters, in
reference to art, treat diseases in little, and carry their whole phar-
macopoeia in their breeches pockets.
"I have at length met with a physician to my mind !" exclaimed
my friend Jack, when I encountered him a month ago in Regent
Street. "He has nothing to do with your nauseous boluses and
SO QUACKS AND QUACKERY.
potions, enough to turn the stomach of a hog ; he does not order
medicines to be swallowed in pailfuls, but knocks down the disease
at once, with a pill not half the size of a pin's head a dose you
might take in leaping a five-barred gate a most gentlemanly
mode of practising < Cito, tuto, et jucunde/ -is not that the adage,
eh doctor?"
I smiled at Jack's description of the homoeopathic system, under
which he had placed himself, and inquired how long he had been
following that happy method of curing.
I only commenced last week," he replied; "but I already feel
its beneficial effects. Do observe how stoutly I walk !" And he
strutted a few paces with great buoyancy of step. "I say," con-
tinued he, "do not look at my boots ;" they were slashed, and had
a piece let in over each toe ; my doctor assures me I shall soon be
able to throw them away, and never need them again."
I was malicious enough to ask him, on what diet and regimen he
was placed.
" Ah ! that 's a tickler !" he replied with a deep sigh. " In that
respect he is as bad as any of you. A man cannot eat a decent
dinner without sinning, in the broadest terms, against the laws of
the faculty. He informs me, that one dish only can be allowed,
with a single glass of Moselle in a tumbler of Seltzer water."
I assured the worthy squire that in that respect I accorded con-
scientiously with his new physician. We parted, Jack giving me a
look which spoke his intention to cheat the doctor on the first fitting
opportunity.
A month passed away, and I saw nothing of the squire until he
unexpectedly entered my consulting-room one morning, limping
with the assistance of a stick, swearing against the homoeopathic
practice, and promising, for ever henceforth, to live and die in the
legitimate faith. " But is it not truly hard, doctor," continued he,
ff that a poor fellow cannot be cured ? "
I endeavoured to persuade him that the fault was on his own side ;
and, from not having obeyed orders, the disease had gained ground,
as it would do, in such a case, even under judicious treatment; and
that it had awfully progressed since he became a patron of quacks..
" That will do," said he, " I hate lecturing ; tell me what I am to
do, and I will act up to it. But I cannot understand why a man,
call him what you will, quack or mountebank, if he discovers a re-
medy for any disease should not be encouraged."
It would have been in vain had I attempted to argue the point, or
to convince my worthy friend that no medicine can be regarded a
specific for any disease. I assured him, however, that quackery was
not of modern invention ; that it had existed at every period of the
world ; and that, although in all ages it had bound down the human
mind in the fetters of credulity and superstition, and had bent down
intellects of the highest power to worship at its shrine, yet it is not
less hateful on that account.
^ Jack gazed at me as I uttered this wise saw, and seemed fully con-
vinced of its truth ; but like the exciseman in " The Deserted
Village"
" Although convinced, he would argue still,"
he returned to the charge; and, leaning his chin upon the head of
his stick, with a look of indescribable sagacity, drawled out "Now
QUACKS AND QUACKERY. 81
doctor, tell me what you think of the the hydro hang me ! I never
can recollect these crackjaw Greek derivations, I mean the water-
cure ! My friend and neighbour, the Baronet, avers that it has been
his salvation ; and he assures me that men who went to Malvern, with
chalky knuckles, swelled legs, and limping under crutches, have left
it as smooth and sleek as a three-year-old filly ; and as capable of
dancing as those Breadalbane men who capered in the Highland fling
during the Queen's visit atTaymouth. What do you think, doctor?"
" Think ! " said I, " why, I fear the water-cure would be cold
comfort to you, Jack. How should you like to hunt with a table-
cloth, steeped in cold water, bound round your waist and to swal-
low a gallon of the limpid elixir during the day ? I have heard you
say you could never swallow water it caused a spasm in the gullet."
" Ah, doctor ! " replied my pertinacious opponent, " why bring
that up now when you have told me a hundred times you did not
believe it? But it is quite true: I never could get down water.
Habit, doctor ! habit is all powerful. My old aunt Maria brought
me up on port wine: it was mother's milk to me. It was the best
thing I got at Cambridge. I have hunted upon it; slept upon it;
fattened upon it ; and, on my soul, I believe it is the only true Elixir
Vitas. A glass of good genuine port can hurt no man."
How delightful it is to deceive ourselves into the belief that those
sins, whose Circean fascinations have ensnared us, are not likely to
be productive of the evils predicted to be the result of their indul-
gence, because a few have escaped them. Such was the feeling of
the worthy squire with respect to a good dinner and a bottle of his
adored beverage. To affirm that gout lay in every made-dish, and
every glass of port, was apocryphal ; and as unconvincing to the
worthy squire as an argument to prove that a fox-chase was not the
most sublime of sublunary enjoyments. I agreed, therefore, to allow
my patient one glass of port, and one of sherry, provided he would
forego curries and other savoury dishes, and renounce quackery ;
and upon these condions only would I attempt to cure him.
Jack reluctantly assented to the former part of my terms ; but ere
he capitulated, he was determined to open one more battery upon
what he regarded my weakest point: and, therefore, he requested to
be informed " in what quackery differed from medical science, pro-
vided the one cured diseases as certainly as the other ?"
It would have been useless to attempt to give a satisfactory answer
to the worthy squire without entering into a long physiological dis-
quisition which he could not understand. I endeavoured to place be-
fore him the absurdities of the different charlatanic systems which
he had tried, and by whose influence, fora time, his Reason had been
kicked out of doors to give place to his Imagination, of which, how-
ever, he had gradually found himself the dupe, in all of them.
I proved to him that the Mustard-seed cure, which at one time was
the rage, and, during which, every lady carried a pound of mustard-
seeds in her pocket, if she had one, in her reticule, if she had not,
with a table-spoon to measure the dose, was only adapted to make
a kitchen-garden of his stomach, for half the seeds were never di-
gested, and the remainder germinated from the heat and moisture to
which they were exposed. They had promised to him, however,
freedom from gout, renewed youth, and lengthened years. The
home store of mustard-seeds was exhausted, and cargoes were order-
VOL. XIX. G
82 QUACKS AND QUACKERY.
ed from abroad ; but before they arrived, the mania was cured, and
the seeds left to be employed to their natural use : whilst honest
Jack Holme's toes felt their wonted twinges unabated, in defiance of
the pounds of the panacea he had swallowed.
The mustard mania thus sunk : but, as in the fable of the metem-
psychosis, the transmigration of the soul from body to body, the
agent of quackery may die a natural death, yet, its spirit survives,
and transmigrates into some new object, which is proclaimed, with
the same unblushing front as its predecessor, to possess the most mi-
raculous powers.
A magnetic doctor from Germany, soon after the disappearance of
the mustard mania, attempted to introduce his practice into this cre-
dulous country. The worthy squire was bitten. Toothaches, he
was assured, were cured by magnetic toothpicks ; ear-aches and head-
aches by magnetic earpickers ; and gout might be drawn out of the
toes with as much facility, by a magnet of suitable powers. A large
one was procured and applied by the doctor, secundum artem, to the
squire's toe. Jack swore the effect was miraculous ; the pain was
gone before one could say Jack Robinson, drawn out with as much
ease as a needle from his aunt's housewife, had the magnet been ap-
plied to it. But unfortunately the point of the gouty needle was left
behind ; it lay too deep for the magnet, which, like the mustard-
seeds, was in its turn consigned to the vault of all the Humbugs.
This remedy was a mere revival of a practice of the prince of
quacks, Paracelsus, who lived in the sixteenth century, and boasted
that the magnet relieved gout, cured convulsions, restored youth to
the aged, and protracted life to an indefinite period. Alas for poor
Paracelsus ! the magnet, like a prophet, had no honour in its own
country ; it was not employed in the doctor's own case, and Paracel-
sus died in the prime of life. The curative power of the magnet
was also most widely diffused over this country in the form of metaU
lie tractors, or Perkinean medicine, early in the present century.
" I am old enough, my dear Jack," said I, " to have witnessed the
all-powerful influence the contagious nature of credulity on that
occasion. Like the charm of the kaleidoscope, the whole attention of
the public was absorbed by these wonder- working bodkins, for such
they actually were. Did pain attack any one, out came the tractors
from the pocket of some < Lady Bountiful' to put it to flight. A
gentleman met with an accident in hastily descending a flight of
steps ; his ankle was sprained, so that being unable to rise, his ser-
vants carried him to a sofa, and immediately set the tractors at
work. I will give you the result in his own words."
"'After continuing/ said he, 'the operation for fifteen minutes,
the pain seemed to leave me, as if I had taken it off with my stock-
ing. It appeared to descend lower and lower upon my foot, till at
length I shook it off at my toes.'
"The celebrity of the" tractors, which had hitherto been chiefly
worked by old ladies and the clergy, began after some time to at-
tract the attention of the medical profession, and roused Dr. Hay-
garth, of Bath, to investigate the principle upon which the extraor-
dinary results every day witnessed were founded.
' Their reputation in Bath/ says Dr. Haygarth, < prevailed even
among persons of rank and understanding, and consequently de-
manded the investigation of physicians / and he set himself seriously
QUACKS AND QUACKERY. 83
to the task. His first experiments were made with a pair of wooden
tractors, the shape of the real ones, and painted to resemble them
in colour. These were employed upon five rheumatic patients, who
had been ill for several months, and who had suffered with pain-
ful, swelled joints. On the first trial, the wooden tractors were drawn
over the skin so as to touch it in the slightest manner ; but, such is
the force of imagination, the most powerful effects were produced,
even by this first application. All the patients affirmed that their
pains were relieved ; one of them felt his knee warmer, and he as-
sured the experimenter that he could walk better, which he demon-
strated with great satisfaction. One was easier for nine hours, and
till he went to bed, when the pain returned ; and a third affirmed,
that he had a tingling sensation for two hours. On the second day
the real tractors were used, with exactly the same results.
" During these and similar trials, it was found that much of the
benefit depended on the solemnity with which the process of touch-
ing with the tractors was performed ; and the good effect was still
more striking when, at the same time, the wonderful cures which
the tractors were said to have performed were related. Now, chro-
nic rheumatism, my worthy friend, is an obstinate disease, and in
many instances an incurable one ; yet four of the patients believed
that they were immediately relieved by the false tractors : e indeed/
adds Dr. Hay garth, 'the success of these wooden pegs was only ex-
ceeded by the exaggerated stories which had been reported in every
company with increased amazement and credulity.'
" Similar experiments were tried in the Bristol Infirmary with
tractors made of lead; wood, iron-nails covered with wax, bone,
slate-pencil, tobacco-pipes, and gingerbread were also employed, and
all occasionally with the same success. In one case, in which the
patient had been informed that the beneficial influence of the trac-
tors was always preceded by pain, the application of the false trac-
tors demonstrated how certainly the mind influences the body in
the manner which it is prepared to anticipate. In one minute the
patient felt the pain coming on, until the limb became warm ; when
it rose higher up, and increased in severity : in two minutes it was
so acute, darting towards the collar bone, that it could be borne no
longer. The patient then went to bed, and perspired profusely.
On the following day the same effects were produced ; in two mi-
nutes the pain was very acute at the elbow and collar-bone; in four
minutes the patient became very uneasy, looked very red in the
face, and begged that the operation might be discontinued. He
went to bed with a pulse at one hundred and twenty, and, three
quarters of an hour afterwards, he said ' he was in more pain than
when a surgeon took five pieces of bone from his leg, in a compound
fracture, which he unfortunately met with in Wales.'
" But, wonderful as are these instances of the influence of
the imagination on the body, there are certain bounds to its
powers over the animal economy ; and although it is equal to the
prevention of periodical pains, yet experiments made in the same
infirmary proved that the tractors, consequently the imagination,
could not stimulate the lymphatics to a removal of newly-formed
bone, deposited in a joint that rendered the arm immoveable, nor
could they restore strength to parts beyond the ordinary range of
nervous influence, to ligaments or tendons. Imagination alone
G 2
84s QUACKS AND QUACKERY.
was the curative agent in the effects that followed the use of the
spurious tractors, and their power afforded ample reason for attri-
buting to the same influence the cures effected by the real tractors."
" I admit your reasoning," said the squire ; " but, if diseases can
be cured by imagination, why not employ so agreeable a method?"
The question was a natural one, but it required only one reply,
namely, that the cures were never permanent in cases of real dis-
ease. " You experienced the truth of this, my good friend, in the
return of your gout immediately after the mustard-seeds and the mag-
nets went out of fashion ; and such was the fate of the tractors : the
pains which had previously disappeared in a few seconds before
their magic points, soon after Dr. Haygarth's experiments, resisted
their most skilful application ; the nerves no longer vibrated as the
white or the gilded bodkin moved along their course : the caprice of
the day passed by Fashion withdrew her protecting influence the
tide of popular belief, that had flowed so strongly, ebbed to the
lowest ; whilst Perkin, the inventor, became an object of scorn, and
found himself left stranded upon a barren and deserted shore.
" Umph!" said the squire, whilst I proceeded with my catalogue
of the quackeries of which he had been the victim.
" I do not blame you much," continued I, " for having submitted
yourself to the embrocation of Saint- John Long. Counter-irritation
has often been productive of good in disease, although not when
applied to a gouty foot. You found it a worse devil than that it was
intended to expel, and therefore quickly renounced it." The squire
bit his lips; the very recollection of *it was torture. I was cruel
enough to pass on to another sore subject: Morison's Pills. They
were recommended to him by an antiquated spinster in his neighbour-
hood, who took twelve for a dose : but she might have taken a score
with impunity; she was perfect parchment, completely mummified,
and capable of resisting the most powerful drastics. They nearly vic-
timized the poor squire expelled all his radical moisture, and reduced
him almost to a thread-paper. Still he went on, increasing the dose
by the old lady's advice, although he swore at their action; but they
had driven the gout from its stronghold in the foot. The triumph
of the pills, however, was of short duration ; the enemy, dislodged
from the outworks, attacked the citadel : the stomach became the
seat of gout the grave yawned for the squire and, but for brandy,
opium, and Cayenne pepper, it must have closed upon him, to the
great joy of his nephew and heir, whom he hated as truly as a hard
left him to meditate upon it, as the idea strengthened his enmity to
the College of Health and the pills. " They are swan-shot, and kill
wherever they hit ;" was the usual termination of his anathema.
The benefit derived from the stimulants, in relieving the gout in
the stomach^ aided greatly the eulogies that were daily poured forth
in the squire's hearing, on the miraculous curative powers of brandy
and salt. The clergy and the ladies were the chief supporters of
this panacea ; the former because they have always been dabblers in
specifics, the latter because they found the compound most comfort-
able to the stomach, more especially some who dispensed with the
salt. The squire commenced the system with the utmost faith in
QUACKS AND QUACKERY. 85
ts sanative influence. Alas ! the frailty of human anticipations !
The foot became again the victim of the iron scourge of the demon ;
the torture increased after every dose of the remedy ; the part
swelled, reddened, and glistened like a mirror ; not only the toe but
the whole foot and ankle became involved in the disease : sleep fled
the eyes ; the temper became irritable ; Jack quarrelled with
his best friends, until, fortunately convinced of his error by the ex-
cess of his sufferings, he deserted the diet, sent for his legitimate
physician, and was once more set upon his legs.
The squire's last freak was the Homoeopathic system, as before re-
lated ; and he would have plunged over head and ears in the water-
cure, had I not placed before him the catalogue of his follies, and
had not his instinctive abhorrence of water led him to hesitate before
he made a pilgrimage to Malvern. Jack appeared so humbled by
my recital, that I pitied him ; and, as a consolation, assured him,
that his failing was not a solitary one, nor confined to the present
age. " I could amuse you, my dear fellow, for a month, with stories
of the tyrannical sway of credulity over the human intellect; but I
will mention a few only of the most ridiculous."
Doctor Fermly, physician to Henry the Seventh, obtained a
commission from that monarch to discover the Elixir Vitas, a uni-
versal medicine for the cure of all diseases, wounds, and fractures,
and for prolonging life, and maintaining the health and strength of
the body, and the vigour of the mind to the greatest possible extent
of time. Not only the king, but the people generally, believed the
possibility of discovering such an elixir. About the same period, a
toad, dried by heat and reduced to powder, was lauded as a remedy
for gout ; and we are informed that a never-failing cure for broken
bones, dislocated joints, "or any grief in the bones or sinews," was
oil of swallows, made by pounding twenty live swallows in a mortar
with nearly as many different herbs. " For a quinsy," says Mark-
ham, "give the party to drink the herb called mouse-ear, steeped in
ale or beer ; and look when you see a swine rub himself, and there,
upon the same place, rub a slick stone, and then with it slick all the
swelling, and it will cure it." There can be no difference of opinion
respecting the humanity and the delicacy of our forefathers when we
read of such remedies. The only other instance of credulity which
I shall notice, is one free from indelicacy, but not less resting upon
deception than many of the empirical pretensions of our own times.
I refer to the royal touch for the cure of scrofula or kings' evil, as it
is termed, a name evidently originating in the cure.
This superstition took its rise in the reign of Edward the Con-
fessor; and nothing can demonstrate more clearly the influence of
mind over body than the cures which sometimes followed its employ-
ment. In 1349, Bishop Bradwardine wrote respecting the efficacy
of the royal touch in terms that could only proceed from one fully
convinced of the truth of his statement. " Whoever thou art, O
Christian," says he, "who deniest miracles, come and see with thine
own eyes, come into England into the presence of the King, and
bring with thee any Christian afflicted with the kings' evil ; and
though it be very ugly, deep, and inveterate, he will cure him in the
name of Jesus Christ, by prayer, benediction, the sign of the cross,
and the imposition of hands." Now, it is easy to suppose that this
venerable writer detailed what he conceived to be true, although he
was either deceived, or deceived himself.
86 QUACKS AND QUACKERY.
In the Augustan age, even, of our history, Queen Bess exercised
thelouch for the kings' evil. Laneham, in his account of the enter-
tainment at Kenilworth Castle, avers that he saw her cure nine per-
sons without other medicine than the touch and prayer. Qeeen
Anne also touched for the evil ; and the last royal hand which was
thus employed in this country, was that of the Pretender, in 1720.
But this supposed divine gift was not confined to the English mon-
archs ; it was exercised, also, by those of France, with an equal be-
lief in its success.
We are told by Cavendish, in his Life of Wolsey, that when the
Cardinal was on his grand embassy to the French King, in 1526, at
Amiens, that King, on entering the Bishop's palace, where he in-
tended to dine with the Cardinal, had his steps arrested by " about
two hundred persons, diseased with the kings' evil, upon their knees.
And the King, or ever he went to dinner, prevised every one of
them with rubbing and blessing them with his bare hands, being
bare-headed all the while; after whom followed his almoner, distri-
buting money unto the persons diseased. And that done, he said
certain prayers over them, and then washed his hands, and so came
into his chamber to dinner, where/' as says Cavendish, <f my lord dined
with him." *
It may be assumed that much of the influence in these cases was
due to the distributions of the almoner. In England, money and
small silver were distributed on similar occasions.^
But credulity and superstition, when once their influence becomes
apparent, are taken advantage of by knaves and impostors for inter-
ested purposes. One Greatracks, in Ireland, in the middle of the
seventeenth century, pretended that he could cure the evil by the
stroke of his hand, without medicines. Among others, Flamstead,
the astronomer, when a lad of nineteen, was sent to him to be touch-
ed. Flamstead received no benefit, but he stated that " he was eye-
witness of several cures."J
" It would be no difficult task, my worthy friend," said I, " in
concluding my recital, to convince you that any cures effected by
these means were purely the result of the conviction that supernatu-
ral agency was employed in effecting them/' The squire looked
incredulous ; but gave up his opinion, and promised to adhere in
future to the legitimate faculty. I have my doubts of his stability ;
there is an almost innate disposition to run after new doctrines, and
to believe the attempts which are too often intended to impose upon
our credulity. Empiricism battens on the frailty of human nature :
"bad men its instruments, weak men its prey." Time and expe-
rience, indeed, tend to verify the remark of Edmund Burke that,
"the wearing out of an old, only serves to put the fraudulent upon
the invention of a new, delusion. Unluckily, too, the credulity of
dupes is as inexhaustible as the invention of knaves."
* Cavendish's Life of Cardinal Wolsey, edited by Singers, 2nd Edit. p. 168.
( We shall wonder less at the firm credence of even learned bishops in these
cures, when we reflect that in the 1 Cth century the belief in witchcraft was general ,
and at so low an ebb was the tide of intellect, that it was a common custom in
searching for a body which was drowned, to affix upon a float of wood a small cm-
ix and a lighted candle, and having set it afloat on the river, to watch where it
stood still, with a firm conviction that the body would be found under that spot,
Bailey s Life and Observations of Flamstead.
Cool*
87
THE PICTURE.
A SLIGHT SKETCH
BY ALFRED CROW QUILL.
I THREW my knapsack on the ground and was soon at full length
beside it; my companion hesitated a moment before he resigned himself
to the same grassy couch, for he well knew the difficulty of getting-
up again under the stiffening and foot-galling effects of a thirty miles'
walk, which we had taken, staff in hand, in search of the antiquarian
spots, hallowed by time and history. My companion at last seated
himself by my side with a heavy sigh, after having looked around
in vain for a friendly village spire to direct us to some hostelrie
where we might hang up our pilgrim staves, and rest from the
almost overpowering heat of the sun. In vain we turned our
ears to listen for the sweet sound of some gurgling brook whereat
we might moisten our parched lips, and wash the dust from our
eyes. No sound, however, but the faint bleating of the sheep that
seemed stuck against the almost precipitous downs at our back,
and the tiny bark of the distant dog, greeted us. My ideas
were just getting into that state of blissful confusion which is the
threshold of sleep ; another moment I should have knocked and gone
in, but for the bell of some church near, which, sounding out its even-
ing summons, started me up not quite half awake, and I fancied that
I had arrived at some friendly inn, and was ringing a gigantic bell
for the waiter to bring in a dozen bottles of soda-water.
I turned to my tired companion, who was watching the fleeting
clouds with a determination of making his bed where he was lying,
and nudged him with my staff'; we listened, and the breeze again
bore to us the welcome sound. Never did dinner-bell ring so de-
lightfully to the ears of half-tarnished people, as that bell from the
humble village spire : the sound seemed animated with a desire to
play at bopeep with us, dancing and revelling in the air like a wild
spirit, almost tangible; and anon it was carried -away upon the
breeze, seeming to mock us amidst the blue hills in the distance.
Our knapsacks were shouldered and our staves grasped, as we
arose with a vigorous determination to follow the inconstant sound.
We started, but with no very elegant gait, upon the rough and un-
even path, picking out most gingerly the patches of greensward and
sheltering side of the hedges.
Few words passed between us all our jocularity we had left on the
steep side of a hill about two miles in the rear. Our poetical excla-
mations, that had fallen from us at every step early in the day, such
as "Beautiful !" " Delicious I" were all gone, or only applied by our
imagination to draughts of ale or lamb-chops, ham and eggs, or any
other hoped-for condiments. O happy sight ! at the corner of a copse
we saw a stile we reached it and sat down upon it with the full as-
surance that we approached some village. After resting for a few
minutes, we coaxed our tired legs over it, and entered a green lane
shaded to perfect coolness by rows of stately trees, such as are only
seen in the approaches to the fine manorial houses of the olden time.
At the end we could just catch a glimpse of the wild front of the
grey old church, the bell of which had so perplexed us, buried as it
was amidst the surrounding foliage. We soon emerged from our
pleasant shade into the village, and saw the last of the sun that had
88 THE PICTURE.
been frying us all day, and who, seeing us near a positive shelter
and out of his power, sneaked off to bed with a blush on his face, as
if ashamed of having grilled two poor devils so unmercifully.
The sign of " The White Horse " swung invitingly from the arm
of an old oak, opposite to a most picturesque-looking inn, at the door
of which sat a large rosy figure of a man in his shirt-sleeves, enjoy-
ing his pipe and a mug* of ale with the most enviable composure.
He peeped at us inquiringly from under the broad shelter of a large
straw hat, and kept puffing out his cloud until we turned off the road
to enter his door: the touch of the hat and the " Good evening,"
with a loud call of " House !" soon bespoke the landlord.
We uttered no useless word until we had slaked our tormenting
thirst in deep draughts of cold brilliant ale, "worth a guinea a
quart." No drop was left in the measure not even sufficient to wet
a fly over the soles of his boots. The host's eye sparkled as he
watched our full enjoyment of his universal medicine; and he
chuckled as he asked, with a knowing look, how we liked that ale.
Our mute answer was a smile and the reversing our measures, from
which dropped no tear for the departed : there was a whole lodge of
freemasonry in his winks ; we were brothers from that moment.
He bustled about, showing us our clean, white, sweet-smelling
bed-rooms, the windows of which were shaded by the honeysuckle
and clematis, almost to the exclusion of the light, which was most
grateful to us after the garish and oppressive heat of the day. Here,
after arranging our knapsacks and having the benefit of a copious ab-
lution, we found ourselves in a comfortable state to join our landlord
at his porch. Here we found him with old-fashioned high-backed arm
chairs placed for us commodiously round the little oak-table ; he
bustled about in the evident anticipation of a cozy chat and something
new from such a wandering-looking couple as we were. After see-
ing our orders attended to, he relapsed with a heavy sigh into silence,
with rustic politeness waiting for us to open the ball.
Across the little-used road, immediately opposite, ran a shallow
brook, evidently a tributary, with many others, to some large gather-
ing of waters, the rush of which sounded soothingly not very far from
the spot; a thickly vegetated bank rose out of its moist bed, crowned
with majestic old trees, that feathered away in the clear blue sky and
gave shelter to a cawing family of rooks.
An extensive meadow-like slope, darkened with the foliage of
many trees, was occupied by grazing-cattle lying upon the green-
sward in picturesque forms, chewing the cud and enjoying the cool
of the evening. Near the centre of this meadow rose a pile of rubble
and limestone, covered with dark-green ivy, looking like an old
gable of some primitive convent, having a small lancet window only
left on its extreme point, which appeared to struggle to uprear itself
from the embraces of the snake-like ivy that revelled in a thousand
tortuous folds around its base.
"Ah, gentlemen!" sighed the landlord, "you're looking at that
corner bit; it's now all that's left of a fine old mansion. In my re-
membrance it was a noble old place. The avenue by which you
came here was, fifty years ago, one of the approaches to the grand
entrance. It sounded to the cheers of many a noble huntsman, and
many a handsome dame ; it was a perfect paradise : but an evil
spirit entered, and its grand halls have gradually become the grazing-
ground of cattle, and the old family name has passed away for ever."
THE PICTURE. 89
Our four literary ears pricked up with sheer delight at this little
exordium of our -worthy host ; we saw a magnificent tale in perspec-
tive a jewel for our gathering wallets. We looked upon his jolly
face, which was mightily changed ; it had grown big with mystery
it spoke volumes. We dared hardly venture an exclamation, fearing
he might be timid, and excuse himself the narration. But, no; we
had evidently, with great good luck, fallen upon the Diseur, or tale-
teller of the neighbourhood; for after slightly prompting him with
looks of eager curiosity, and an "Indeed !" and an "As how, good land-
lord ?" he, with as modest a look as such a jolly face could put on,
commenced, with many apologies, and a careful filling of his pipe,
the following tale
" When I, gentlemen, was no higher than this table, a noble house
stood upon that ground you look upon, and dark and neglected as it
now looks, it then was the sure resting-place and refuge for the foot-
sore wanderer. The doors of fine old English hospitality were
thrown wide open to succour the poor and the helpless.
" When the good old squire died, I can well remember the feeling
of childish awe that fell upon me as I looked in the sad faces of all
around me, and the silent multitude standing bareheaded beside that
good man's grave. He left an only son alone in the world, for his
wife's death had preceded his some years. This son was quite a boy,
about thirteen or fourteen : I think I see him now, a pale stripling,
standing out from amidst the throng of friends as chief mourner ;
every heart pitied him, for each also felt he had lost a father.
Close at the back stood a youth some two years his senior his cousin
Henry who had been brought up with him as a companion. His
father, the old squire's younger brother, left his mother a young
widow, who soon formed another marriage, and left her child under
the care of his uncle, who had well discharged his trust, for he had
shared equally the advantages of the son and heir.
'' He was unlike his cousin in every respect ; for though a noble
boy, his Spanish-looking face, inherited from his brunette mother,
had always a haughty and repulsive look, so different from the open,
fair face and blue eye of his younger cousin : and as different were
their dispositions ; for the young squire gathered golden opinions
wherever he went, whilst the cousin was met with fear and dislike
from his arbitrary and overbearing conduct. He was dangerously
proud for one so situated, and with a scant property lie continually
had to give place to the heir ; and the feeling of being second galled
him daily, and irritated a fiery and uncontrollable temper.
" The churchyard scene appeared like a dream to me ; but though
so young at the time, I can remember the instinctive feeling of love
I had towards one cousin, and the dread I always felt at the
approach of the other.
" Time rolled on, and the cousins became young men. The guard-
ians selected a careful tutor, and sent the heir and his cousin on their
travels. The old steward was my father. He was left as almoner
to his young and benevolent master, with strict injunctions that the
Hall should be the same as if he were at home, and that if he, as he
said, 'left for a while the hearth-stone of his good father, it must
never grow cold.'
" My father from time to time received letters from abroad, with
instructions from the young squire as to improvements and altera-
tions in the place, and farms that he wished to be completed before
90 THE PICTURE.
his return, which he intended should be prior to his coming of age,
an event he thought that could be only properly celebrated be-
neath the roof of his ancestors, and amidst the loving hearts that he
might well call his own.
"Travel in those days was a thing of much time and no little
danger, and letters were few and far between ; and proud was my
father, to dole out to eager and interested listeners paragraphs of his
beloved patron's letters, wherein he described scenes of wonder and
beauty in foreign lands, then little known or heard of in a remote
village like ours. When it was known he had received one of these
to us all-important missives, he would have a continued levee in the
Hall, or when he walked out, a tail like a Highland chieftain, which
followed him with untiring pertinacity to pick up the smallest scrap,
and then rush to the old and feeble, who were unable to accompany
them, and retail the delightful news, and calculate the how long it
was to the happy day of his return.
"Some few weeks before his expected arrival, notified by his
guardian to my father, under whose care every preparation for his
reception was confided, a knot of the old heads of the village were
collected in deep conclave beneath the broad arms of an ancient oak,
which had thrown its dark shadows across the grand approach to
the Hall for centuries, and still flourished greenly, to welcome
another heir to the domain, of which he alone seemed to be the
perpetual king. Upon its gnarled and twisted roots sat the synod,
selected by my father as council upon the forthcoming fete, with its
garlands, ox-roasting, dancing, and festivities without end. I was
then a tall youth, and well remember the important looks of the
chosen few, who seemed to have a weight of no little magnitude on
their shoulders, almost too great for them to bear. Their delibera-
tions were disturbed by the rattle of wheels, and soon, approaching
rapidly through the trees, appeared a post-chaise and four. As they
neared our party, the features of our young master's guardian appear-
ed at the window. The post-boy stopped at his signal, and he beckon-
ed my father towards him whom he had got into the chaise ; the door
was then closed, and they disappeared behind the copse on their way
to the Hall, and left us only to look with astonishment on each other.
" We followed slowly, and arriving before the grand front, I en-
tered, and found the domestics in tears ; my heart sank within me
at the fearful news our beloved young master's death ! He had
fallen into a chasm of the glaciers, and his body had never been
recovered. His cousin, who had been his companion, had been
severely ill since from the shock, but would be in England soon
after the receipt of the letter which brought the fatal news of our
bereavement and his gain, for he was now undisputed heir to the
large domain of his uncle.
*' In a few melancholy days he did return. No heartfelt welcome
hailed the master to his home no joyous revelling or smiling faces
crowded round the house of his childhood ; the deep gloom of even-
ing fell like a mourning pall over its noble front, and the wind
moaned in fitful gusts through the broad avenues, as if bewailing
the absence of the noble heir, whose body lay in the cold and un-
yielding embrace of the glaciers, in a land far distant from the
graves of his ancestors.
"Silent and cold was his welcome; his guardian, and a few offi-
THE PICTURE. 91
cials concerned, alone were admitted. No other notice was to be
taken, by his own request, of his return and taking possession. He
received courteously the necessary congratulatory visits of the
gentry in the neighbourhood; but after the first few days of bustle
and arrangement were over, he wandered moodily over the park
and grounds. Strangely indeed was he altered; the shock of his
cousin's fate had evidently unsettled his nerves ; his face was rigidly
pale, and his feverish lips parted unwillingly when addressing any
one, his prostrated strength even claimed the pity of those who
felt they never could love him as they had done the fair departed
boy. At last a sudden change seemed to come over him : he busied
himself by making great alteration in the Hall and grounds, having
workmen and artists from all parts to work out his designs, which
were carried on unceasingly with an extraordinary feverish excite-
ment ; night after night would he sit up to carry out some favourite
project, and only upon the return of morning seek his couch, to the
relief of the almost exhausted artisan. The old picture-gallery was
augmented at an immense expense, and he became a ready pur-
chaser of all articles of virtu and talent, until his house became a
scene of great attraction for miles round. He allowed free ingress,
but misanthropically refused all communication with his visitors.
" He seemed, although a mere youth, to have lost all relish for
society; he very seldom went out except on horseback, an exer-
cise which he had always delighted in, but in this he appeared to
have no object except to outstrip the wind in swiftness, for he would
always return with his noble horse's drooping haunches covered with
foam, and exhausted. The surrounding gentry at last no longer
pressed their attentions upon him.
" In the course of my duty, for I had been placed upon the estab-
lishment for some time, I presented a foreign letter to him, the con-
tents of which, from after instruction, I learnt were, that a Ger-
man agent had notified to him he held the number that had been
drawn a prize in some picture lottery, and requesting directions as
to how it was to be forwarded to him. In the course of a week or
two, a large packing-case was brought to the Hall during his absence ;
it was taken, according to his previous instruction, as the gallery was
nearly completed, into the anteroom of his bedchamber that he
might first inspect his prize and decide upon its future situation.
The lid was struck off and showed the inner case, which was curious-
ly carved, with elaborate hinges of ancient workmanship nearly co-
vering its beautifully embossed doors. My master, on being told of
its arrival, proceeded to the chamber alone. Hours elapsed : no bell
was rung for attendance : when the evening approached it was
thought best that I should venture to seek him. I immediately did
so, and on arriving at the chamber, which was getting gloomy from
the falling twilight, I was startled by the appearance of a figure
standing motionless in the centre of the anteroom before the picture,
the doors of which were flung open. There was something awful in
that motionless figure: no breath was distinguishable. After sum-
moning up my courage, I ventured to speak. The charm was dis-
solved ; my young master turned his colourless face towards me,
and, without uttering a word, seized me by the arm, and rushing
from the chamber, hurried, with terrified speed, along the corridor.
His grasp of my arm was terrific ; he dragged me with him into
92 THE PICTURE.
the lighted dining-room, and threw himself into a chair. Violent
shiverings, and helpless looks of almost idiotcy were turned towards
. me: fearing to leave him, I rang the bell violently ; my father enter-
ed with some domestics. In a few whispered words, delivered spas-
modically, he bade my father send all from the room except me and
himself. No word of explanation escaped him ; no persuasion from
my old father would get his consent to the sending for a medical
man. He said he was much better, but we must not leave him.
'Don't let me sleep/ said he, imploringly; ' I will rest by the fire
until the morning.' Ah, that night ! almost without end did it ap-
pear to me, as we sat by the side of that little more than boy wonder-
ing yet not daring to utter a word, and watching his pale lips
moving continually in muttered whisperings which alone broke the
silence of the weary night hours. The dawn at last broke slowly
through the stained casements, and as the first rays of the sun fell
across the floor, he looked inquiringly first at my father and then at
me ; he sighed heavily as if awaking from a trance ; he arose slowly
from the chair, and walked, without uttering a word, out of the room.
We of course followed him immediately, of which he took no notice
until we approached the antechamber of his bedroom. Here he he-
sitated for a moment ; then turning towards my father, said, in a voice
husky and trembling, he would try now to sleep ; but to send some-
body to him at twelve at noon. He then closed the door upon us
before we could answer him, and we descended slowly to commune
as to what, under the circumstances, was our best course to pursue.
Our deliberation ended in the determination to send for his late
guardian. A man was immediately sent off to request his attendance
and advice.
" After some three or four hours, much to our relief, we heard the
clatter of the wheels and the welcome voice of his guardian, who de-
cided upon immediately proceeding with me and my father to his
chamber. Upon our arrival there, we found the anteroom fastened,
and our frequent knockings and calls for admittance unanswered.
The servants were summoned, and the door was forced ; we rushed
into the anteroom, and nearly fell over the body of our young mas-
ter, which lay extended before the picture, upon which all eyes were
immediately fixed: the morning sun fell upon it, and gave the figure
almost the appearance of life. The bottom of the picture was occu-
pied by the figure of a man rushing towards you with great speed,
with his eyes filled with demoniac fire and in his hand a closely
clutched knife; the streak of light on the horizon showed a prostrate
figure of one slain ; over the murderer's head floated a lovely female
figure, with mild and calm features, uprearing an hour-glass on the
one hand, whilst with the other she grasped a long and double-
edged sword. On a scroll imbedded in the frame was written " The
Avenging Angel."
"Before this picture lay the pale form of our master, with his
hunting-knife driven to the haft in his heart; in his hand he held a
crumpled paper, which was taken from him as we laid him upon
his bed.
"A few words, boldly written, thrilled through every heart as
they were read,
" ' 1 murdered poor Frederick ; my hand thrust him into the eulph,
and the Avenging ancrel has found mo ! ' "
me I
93
A- REAL COUNTRY GHOST STORY.
BY ALBERT SMITH.
" ( Grant Liebchen auch ? Der mond scheint hell !
Hurrah ! die Todten reiten schnell !
Graut Ijiebchen auch vor Todten ?'
4 Ach nein ! Doch las die Todten.' " BURGER'S Lenore.
IP the following narrative were nothing more than a mere inven-
tion, it would have very little in it to recommend it to the notice of
the reader; but detailing, as closely as possible may be, some cir-
cumstances which actually occurred, and which were never account-
ed for, no case of spectres found to be finger-posts or pollards in
the morning, nor dim flickering lights seen in churchyards at mid-
night, afterwards proved to have been carried by resurrection-men
or worm-catchers, it may form a fitting addition to the repertoire of
unaccountable romances, which, taken from the pages of Glanville
and Aubrey, are narrated at this fire-side period always in time to
induce a dread of going to rest, and a yearning for double-bedded
rooms and modern apartments.
For our own part, we believe in ghosts. We do not mean the
vulgar ghosts of every-day life, nor those of the Richardson drama,
who rise amidst the fumes of Bengal light burned in a fire-shovel,
nor the spring-heeled apparitions who every now and then amuse
themselves by terrifying the natives of suburban localities out of
their wits. To be satisfactory, a ghost must be the semblance of
some departed human form, but indistinct and vague, like the image
of a magic lanthorn before you have got the right focus. It must
emit a phosphorescent light, a gleaming atmosphere like that sur-
rounding fish whose earthly sojourn has been unpleasantly pro-
longed; and it should be as transparent and slippery, throwing out
as much cold about it, too, as a block of sherry-cobler ice. We
would go a great way upon the chance of meeting a ghost like this,
and should hold such a one in great reverence, especially if it came
in the dreary grey of morning twilight, instead of the darkness
which its class is conventionally said to admire. We would, in-
deed, allow it to come in the moonlight, for this would make its
advent more impressive. The effect of a long cold ray streaming
into a bedroom is always terrible, even when no ghosts are present
to ride upon it. Call to mind, for instance, the ghastly shadow of
the solitary poplar falling across the brow of Mariana in the ' moat-
ed grange/ as Alfred Tennyson has so graphically described it.
Once we slept or rather went to bed, for we lay awake and quiv-
ering all night long in an old house on the confines of Windsor
Forest. Our bedroom faced the churchyard, the yew-trees of which
swept the uncurtained casement with their boughs, and danced in
shadows upon the mouldering tapestry opposite, which mingled with
those of the fabric until the whole party of the a long unwashed "
thereon worked, appeared in motion. The bed itself was a dread-
ful thing. It was large and tall, and smelt like a volume of the
Gentleman's Magazine for 1746, which had reposed in a damp closet
ever since. There were feathers, too, on the tops of the tall posts,
black with ancestral dirt and flue of the middle ages; and heavy
94 A REAL COUNTRY GHOST-STORY.
curtains, with equally black fringe, which you could not draw. The
whole thing had the air of the skeleton of a hearse that had got into
the catacombs and been starved to death. The moonlight crept
along the wainscoat, panel after panel, and we could see it gradually
approaching our face. We felt, when it did so, that it would be no
use making the ghosts, whom we knew were swarming about the
chamber, believe that we were asleep any more. So we silently
brought all the clothes over our head, and 'thus trembled till morn-
ing, preferring death from suffocation to that from terror ; and think-
ing, with ostrich-like self-delusion, that as long as our head was
covered we were safe. Beyond doubt many visitors flitted about
and over us that night. We were told, in fact, afterwards, that we
had been charitably put in the " haunted room " the only spare
one in which all kinds of ancestors had been done for. Probably
this was the reason why none of them let us into their confidence ;
there were so many that no secret could possibly be kept. Had we
been aware of this interesting fact, we should unquestionably have
added ourselves to the number of its traditional occupants long be-
fore morning, from pure fright. As it was, we left the house the
next day, albeit we were upon a week's visit, with a firm determin-
ation never to sleep anywhere for the future but in some hotel about
Covent Garden, where we should be sure of ceaseless noise, and
evidences of human proximity all night long; or close to the steam-
press office of a daily paper. But this by the way ; now to our story.
On the left bank of the Thames, stretching almost from the little
village of Shepperton to Chertsey Bridge, there is a large, flat, blowy
tract of land, known as Shepperton Range. In summer it is a plea-
sant spot enough, although the wind is usually pretty strong there,
even when scarcely a breath is stirring anywhere else : it is the St.
-Paul's Churchyard, in fact, of the neighbourhood. But then the
large expanse of short springy turf is powdered with daisies ; and
such few bushes of hawthorn and attempts at hedges as are to be
found upon its broad sweep, are mere standards for indolent ephe-
meral dog-roses, dissipated reckless hops, and other wild and badly
brought-up classes of the vegetable kingdom. There are uplands
rising from the river, and crowned with fine trees, half surrounding
the landscape from Egham Hill to Oatlands ; one or two humble
towers of village churches; rippling corn-fields, and small farms,
whose homesteads are so neat and well-arranged, that they remind
one of scenes in domestic melodramas, and you expect every minute
to hear the libertine squire rebuked by the farmer's daughter, who
though poor is virtuous, and prefers the crust of rectitude to all the
entremets of splendid impropriety. The river here is deep and blue,
in its full country purity before it falls into bad company in the me-
tropolis, flowing gently on, and knowing neither extraordinary high
tides of plenitude, nor the low water of poverty. It is much loved
of anglers quiet, harmless folks who punt clown from the "Crick-
eters," at Chertsey Bridge, the landlord of which hostelry formerly
bore the name of Try a persuasive cognomination for a fishing-inn,
especially with regard to the mighty barbel drawn on the walls of
the passage, which had been caught by customers. Never did a
piscator leave the house in the morning without expecting to go and
do likewise.
But in winter, Shepperton Range is very bleak and dreary. The
A REAL COUNTRY GHOST-STORY. 95
wind rushes down from the hills, howling and driving hard enough
to cut you in two ; and the greater part of the plain, for a long period,
is under water. The coach passengers used to wrap themselves up
more closely as they approached its boundary. This was in what
haters of innovation called the good old coaching times, when " four
spanking tits " whirled you along the road, and you had the " plea-
sant talk" of the coachman, and excitement of the " changing," the
welcome of " mine host" of the posting-inn, and other things which
appear to have thrown these anti-alterationists into frantic states of
delight. Rubbish! Give us the railway, with its speed, and, after
all, its punctuality ; its abolition of gratuities to drivers, guards,
ostlers, and every idle fellow who chose to seize upon your carpet-
bag and thrust it into the bottom of the boot, whence it could only
be extracted by somebody diving down until his inferior extremities
alone were visible, like a bee in a bell-flower. When Cowper sent
to invite his friend Bishop Spratt to Chertsey, he told him he could
come from London conveniently in two days "by sleeping at Hamp-
ton ;" now you may knock off eighteen out of the twenty miles, from
Nine Elms to Weybridge, in fifty minutes.
In winter (to return to the Range) the pedestrian seeks in vain for
the shelter of any hedge or bank. If the wind is in his teeth, it is no
very easy matter for him to get on at all. Once let it take his hat,
too, and he must give it up as utterly lost all chance of recovery is
gone: and if the snow is on the ground and the moon is shining, he
may see it skimming away to leeward for a wonderful distance, until
it finally leaps into the river. And this reminds us that it was winter
when the events of our story took place ; and that the moon was up,
and the ground white and sparkling.
It had been a sad Christmas with the inmates of a large family-
house near the village end of the Range. For Christmas is not
always that festive time which conventionality and advertisements
insist upon its being ; and the merriment of the season cannot always
be ensured by the celebrated " sample hampers," or the indigestion
arising from overfeeding. In many houses it is a sad tear-bringing
anniversary ; and such it promised to be, in future, at the time of
our story, now upwards of fifty years ago, for the domestic circle of
the Woodwards, by which name we wish to designate the family
in question. It is not, however, the right one. The eldest daugh-
ter, Florence, a beautiful girl of twenty, was in the last stage of
confirmed consumption. Her family had been justly proud of her :
a miniature by Cosway, which is still in existence, evidences her
rare loveliness when in health, and as the reckless disease gained
upon her, all its fatal attributes served only to increase her beauty.
Tiie brilliant sparkling eye with the fringe of long silky lashes ; the
exquisitely delicate flush and white teint of her skin ; the bright arte-
rial lips and pearly teeth : all combined to endow her with fascina-
tions scarcely mortal.
" The beauty," beyond all comparison, of every circle of society
into which she entered, Florence Woodward had not remained un-
conscious of her charms. Her disposition in early girlhood was
naturally reserved, and to those casually introduced to her, cold and
haughty ; and this reserve increased with her years, fanned by the
breath of constant flattery. She had rejected several most eligible
matches, meeting the offers of one or tw.o elder sons of the best
96 A HEAL COUNTRY GHOST-STORY.
families in the neighbourhood with the coldest disdain, even after
having led each of her suitors to believe, from the witchery of her
manner, fascinating through all her pride, that he was the favoured
one; and although at last they felt sure that their offers would be
rejected, if not with a sneer, at least with a stare of surprise at such
presumption, yet the number of her admirers did not diminish ; in
many instances it became a point of vanity as well as love. The
hope of being, at last, the favoured one urged them on, but always
with the same result. She looked upon their hearts as toys, things
to be amused with, then to be broken, and cared for no more.
A year or two before the period of story she met Frank Slier-
borne one evening at the Richmond ball. The Sherbornes had
formerly lived at Halliford, within a mile of the Woodwards, and
the two families were exceedingly intimate at that time. They had
now left the neighbourhood some years ; and Florence was astonish-
ed to find that the mere boy, who used to call her by her Christian
name, had grown to be a fine young man in the interim. Whether
it was to pique some other admirer in the room, or whether she
really was taken, for the few hours of the ball, with the lively intel-
ligence and unaffected conversation of her old companion, we know
not, but Sherborne was made supremely happy that evening by
finding himself dancing each time with the belle of the room ; and
when he was not dancing sitting by her side, lost in conversation.
He was fascinated that night with the spells she wove around him,
and he returned home with his brain almost turned, and his pulses
throbbing, whilst the thoughts which recalled the beautiful face and
low soft voice of Florence Woodward excluded all other subjects.
His feelings were not those attendant upon a mere flirtation with an
attractive woman, in which gratified self-conceit has perhaps so
large a share. He was madly, deeply in love.
To be brief, his intimacy with the Woodwards was renewed, and
Florence led him on, making him believe that he was the chosen
above all others, until he ventured to propose. In an instant her
manner changed, and he was coldly rejected, with as much hauteur
as if he had only been the acquaintance of a single dance. Stunned
at first by her heartlessness, he left the house and returned home
without uttering a word of what had occurred to his family. Then
came a reaction, and brain-fever supervened ; and when he reco-
vered he threw up all his prospects, which were of no ordinary
brilliancy, and left home, as it subsequently proved, for ever:
taking advantage of his mother's being a relation of Sir John Jervis
to enter the navy on board the admiral's ship, and do anything in
any capacity that might distract him from his one overwhelming
misery.
No sooner was he gone than Florence found, despite her endea-
vours to persuade herself to the contrary, that she also was in love.
Self-reproach and remorse of the most bitter kind seized upon her.
Her spirits drooped, and she gave up going into society, and albeit
her pride still prevented her from disclosing her secret to a soul, its
effect was the more terrible from her struggles to conceal it. I)ay
by day she sank, as her frame became more attenuated from con-
stant yet concealed fretting. Winter came, and one cold followed
another, until consumption proclaimed its terrible hold upon the
beautiful victim. Everything that the deepest family affection and
A REAL COUNTRY GHOST-STORY. 97
unlimited means could accomplish was done to stop the ravages of
the disease ; but although her friends were buoyed up with hope to
the last, the medical men knew that her fate was sealed, from the
very symptoms, so cruelly delusive, that comforted the others. She
was attended by a physician, who came daily from London, and an
apothecary from a neighbouring town. From the latter we received
this story some time back. He was a young man, and had not long
commenced practice when it took place.
He had been up several nights in succession, and was retiring to
rest about half-past eleven, when a violent peal of the surgery bell
caused him to throw up the window and inquire what was wanted.
He directly recognized the coachman of the Woodwards upon horse-
back, who told him that Miss Florence was much worse, and begged
he would come over to Shepperton immediately. Sending the man
at once away, with the assurance that he would be close upon his
heels, he re-dressed hurriedly, and going to the stable, put his horse
to the gig himself, for the boy who looked after it did not sleep in
the house, and then hastily putting up a few things from the
surgery which he thought might be wanted on emergency, he
started off.
It was bright moonlight, and the snow lay lightly upon the
ground. The streets of the town were deserted ; nor indeed was
there any appearance of life, except that in some of the upper win-
dows of the houses lights were gleaming, and it was cold bitter
cold. The apothecary gathered his heavy night-coat well about
him, and then drove on, and crossed Chertsey Bridge, under which
the cold river was flowing with a swollen heavy tide, chafing
through the arches, as the blocks of ice floating on it at times im-
peded its free course. The wind blew keenly on the summit of
the bridge ; but as Mr. descended, it appeared more still ; and
when he got to the "gully-hole," with its melancholy ring of pol-
lards (wherein a coach and four, with all the passengers, is report-
ed by the natives once to have gone down, and never been seen
again) it had almost ceased.
We have said the moon was very bright more so than common,
and when Mr got to the commencement of Shepperton Range,
he could see quite across the flat, even to the square white tower of
the church ; and then, just as the bell at Littleton tolled twelve he
perceived something coming into the other end of the range, and
moving at a quick pace. It was unusual to meet anything there-
abouts so late at night, except the London market-carts and the
carriers' waggons, and he could form no idea of what it could be.
It came on with increased speed, but without the slightest noise ;
and this was remarkable, inasmuch as the snow was not deep
enough to muffle the sound of the wheels and horse's feet, but had
blown and drifted from the road upon the plain at the side. Nearer
and nearer it came ; and now the apothecary perceived that it was
something like a hearse, but still vague and indistinct in shape, and
it was progressing on the wrong side of the road. His horse ap-
peared alarmed, and was snorting hurriedly as his breath steamed
out in the moonlight, and Mr. felt himself singularly and in-
stantaneously chilled. The mysterious vehicle was now distant
from him only a few yards, and he called out to whoever was con-
ducting it to keep the right side, but no attention was paid, and as
VOL. XIX. H
98 A REAL COUNTRY GHOST-STORY.
he endeavoured to pull his own horse over, the object came upon
him. The animal reared on his hind legs and then plunged for-
wards, overturning the gig against one of the flood-posts ; but even
as the accident occurred he saw that the strange carnage was a dark-
covered vehicle, with black feathers at its corners ; and that within
were two figures, upon whom a strange and ghastly light appeared to
be thrown. One of these resembled Florence Woodward; and the
other, whose face was close to hers, bore the features of young
Sherborne. The next instant he was thrown upon the ground.
He was not hurt, but scrambled up again upon his legs immedi-
ately ; when to his intense surprise nothing of the appalling equi-
page was to be seen. The Range was entirely deserted ; and there
was not a hedge or thicket of any kind behind which the strange ap-
parition could have been concealed. But there was the gig upset,
sure enough, and the cushions and wrappers lying on the snow. Un-
able to raise the gig, Mr. , almost bewildered, took out the horse,
and rode hurriedly on over the remaining part of the flat, towards
the Woodwards' house. He was directly admitted, being expected ;
and, without exchanging a word with the servant, flew upstairs to
the bed-room of the invalid. He entered, and found all the family
assembled. One or two of them were kneeling round the bed, and
weeping bitterly ; and upon it lay the corpse of Florence Wood-
ward. In a fit of coughing she had ruptured a large vessel in the
lungs, and died almost instantaneously.
Mr. ascertained in an instant that he had arrived too late.
Unwilling to disturb the members of the family, who in their misery
had scarcely noticed his arrival, he drew the nurse from the room,
and asked how long she had been dead.
" It is not a quarter of an hour, sir," replied the old woman look-
ing on an old-fashioned clock, that was going solemnly with a dead
muffled beat upon the landing, and now pointed out the time about
ten minutes after twelve : " she went off close upon midnight, and
started up just before she died, holding out her arms as though she
saw something ; and then she fell back upon the pillow, and it was
all over."
The apothecary stayed in the house that night, for his assistance
was often needed by the mother of the dead girl, and left in the
morning. The adventure of the night before haunted him to a pain-
ful degree for a long period. Nor was his perfect inability to account
for it at all relieved when he heard, some weeks afterwards, that
young Sherborne had died of a wound received in the battle off
Cape St. Vincent, on the very day, and at the very hour, when the
apparition had appeared to him on Shepperton Range !
We have often heard the story told, and as often heard it explain-
ed by the listeners. They have said that it was a curious coinci-
dence enough, but that Mr. was worn out with watching, and
had gone to sleep in his gig, pulling it off the road, and thus over-
turning it. We offer no comments either upon the adventure or the
attempt to attribute it to natural causes: the circumstances have
been related simply as they were said to have occurred, and we leave
the reader to form his own conclusions.
,9.0
MEMOIR OF ALFRED CROWQUILL.
WITH A PORTRAIT.
AMONG the "Glimpses and Mysteries" of the literary world,
within the last twenty years, ALFRED CROWQUILL has borne his part.
While many of the initiated have known who he is, hundreds have
laughed over the vagaries of his pen and pencil and asked in vain
" What is his real name? "
We believe that he belongs to one of the liberal professions, and
has avocations even farther east than Paternoster Row in the business
world of the City. How he attends to these is another " mystery "
amid the chaos of blocks, and steel, and stone, and canvas, in
which he lives elsewhere than the City. The first literary appear-
ance of ALFRED CROWQUILL may be traced in ; the pages of those
successful pioneers of cheap literature, " The ^Hive," and "Mirror,"
under the editorship of Mr. Timbs. This was the very nibbing
of the CROWQUILL, before the subject of this Memoir tyas.out
of his teens. At twenty he discovered, fortunately for- the
laughing philosophers of the world, that he could wield the
pencil even better than the pen, and since that period he has always
illustrated his own writings besides the works of a host of other
popular writers. " Der Freyschutz travestied" was the first .effort
of his pencil. Close upon this followed "Alfred Cro>VquiU's Sketch
Books," the most whimsical of tableaux, dedicated, by command of
the Duchess of Kent, to the Princess Victoria it ,is super-
fluous to say, except pro forma, our present Most Gracious Majesty ;
He was shortly after the appearance of these publications solicited
to join the "Humourist" clique of the "New Monthly 'Magazine/?
where he remained, in the best possible humour, for many a month,
leaving it on the death of that prince of humourists, Theodore Hook;
to join the ranks of this Miscellany.
CROWQUILL was one of the original illustrators of " Punch,"
and added much to the early popularity of that periodical by the
happy facility of his pencil. But we must not only regard him
as a caricaturist ; he has ably proved his right to the name of CROW-
QUILL by some exquisite pen-and-ink drawings, chiefly of woodland
scenery, which have, from time to time, been admired at literary
and artistical reunions, and two of which, " The Huntsman's Rest,"
and " The Solitary," were among the drawings of the last Exhibition
of the Royal Academy.
Of late, too, he has handled the brush as well as the pen and pen-
cil; here we must follow him from the bookseller's to the print-
seller's, in whose windows we see " Temperance and Intemperance,"
engraved from his painting in oils, which called forth a letter of
thanks from the great preacher of sobriety, Father Mathew, highly
complimentary of a design so ably " Pointing out to the eye a moral
which the ear would be a long time receiving." To this we may
add the admirable idea of " The Ups and Downs of Life," in which
youth is represented gazing on the risings of life's undulating path,
regardless of all that makes its depths and its darkness ; " The Pre-
sident" and " Vice-President," with many others.
100 STANZAS.
The illustrated literature of the day has availed itself largely of
ALFRED CROWQUILL'S aid. The designs of the late Miss Sheridan's
"Comic Offering" were, for the most part, his, and the conceit and
execution of the punning cover of " Hood's Own " was, by the desire
of the author, entrusted to CROWQUILL. " The Pictorial Grammar,"
"The Pictorial Arithmetic," both letter-press and caricature, are
his, and with the " Phantasmagoria of Fun," which originally ap-
peared in this Miscellany, and was re-published in two volumes,
prove the inexhaustible fund of humour and talent he has at com-
mand.
We must not forget to state, this being Christmas time, that most of
the pantomimes for the last few years, have been indebted to CROW-
QUILL for designs, devices, and effects ; and here we will pause not
for want of material to fill up a much longer catalogue of CROWQUILL'S
doings, but that we may find space to make mention of his sayings.
In conversation he is epigrammatic, and he cannot tell an anecdote
or relate an occurrence, without completely personifying the charac-
ters of whom he speaks, his countenance, at the same time, without the
slightest effort, undergoing the most extraordinary changes of expres-
sion. In personal imitations he seldom or never indulges, but,
being an admirable vocalist, often does he set the table in a roar by
a medley of songs which seem to emanate from the natives of every
province in Great Britain.
To return to CROWQUILL as the artist, we will but make mention
of one more of his works. He is at present engaged in publishing,
with his friend, F. P. Palmer an esteemed contributor to this Ma-
gazine a series of papers of a nature different from any he has yet
attempted, the antiquarian " Wanderings of Pen and Pencil." Now,
we will leave our readers to look again on his intellectual and honest
physiognomy. By thus giving his portrait in a Miscellany to the
pages of which he has so largely contributed, Mr. Bentley has evi-
dently acted upon an opinion in which he will be supported by all
who know him who calls himself "Alfred Crowquill," that though
he may capriciously keep his name from the public, no stroke of his
pen or pencil need make him ashamed to show his face.
STANZAS.
Away ! away ! nor tempt me more ; Dear as I hold thee, I would view
Go let my spirit wander free, The radiance of thy beauty gleam,
Thou would'st not have my knees adore, As melting shadows lend their hue
Without this bosom worshipp'd thee. To clothe with light some holy dream.
Thou would'st not have me wear a To think of thee as one afar
_ smile ' From this cold earth, a child of
To mock the living light of thine : Heaven !
Or wantonly, with specious guile, And liken thee to yon lone star
To lure thee to a soul-less shrine. That shines upon the brow of even*.
Perish the thought ! I would not seek, Blossom of hope ! this weakly heart
By careless word thy lasting woe, Is no meet home for one like thee :
For soon that gentle heart would break Sad music would its chords impart,
If one reflected not its glow, For they are strung to misery.
Or gave thee not its whole commune Seek out some worthier, happier breast,
Of love that is, or may have been ; Responsive to the love of thine,
Like melody in sweetest tune, I wou ld not cloud thy sinless rest
Without one jarring note between ! By sharing these dark woes of mine !
101
THE DUKE AND HIS PORTRAITS.
THE extraordinary popularity of the Duke of Wellington, extend-
ing as it does throughout every grade of society and all shades of po-
litical feeling, may be estimated, among other tests, by the multi-
tudinous representations of him which have been given to the world,
and executed, generally speaking, by the most celebrated of our ar-
tists. Next to our gracious Sovereign, of whom we have so many
really excellent portraits (and we cannot have too many), and which
are to be met with in the palaces of our nobles, and the mansions of
our gentry, as well as in the humbler dwellings of the poor, no mo-
dern personage has, perhaps, so frequently been the coveted subject
of the pencil as the hero of Waterloo. Our attention has been at-
tracted to this subject by the almost simultaneous appearance of two
splendid engravings: the one representing the noble Duke receiving
his guests at Apsley House, previous to the banquet in commemo-
ration of the battle of Waterloo, the other giving us the actual repre-
sentation of that annual festival. The publication of these two grand
engravings, which ought to find a place on the walls or in the port-
folios of all lovers of their country, and all admirers of modern
British art, remind us of the days of Boydell ; and we hail their ap-
pearance with the same welcome as was accorded to the efforts of
that excellent patron of British art. The great efforts now making
to carry the art of engraving to its highest pitch, indicated by the
rapid succession of fine and elaborate plates, render the subject one
of considerable importance ; and we shall probably in future num-
bers of this Miscellany attempt to supply what we conceive to be a
void in the history of the art of our country, viz. some account of
the progress of modern English engraving.
It is a singular fact, and one which illustrates his extraordinary
success in portrait painting, that the portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence
of his Grace the Duke of Wellington is even now one of the best of
the multitudinous likenesses of the Hero of Waterloo. And this arises
from the determination of that great painter to depict the mind, the
intelligence, the "inward man," as well as the "outward and visible
form." It is this quality which constitutes his pre-eminence among
modern portrait-painters, and this pre-eminence is in no instance
more fully established than over the many existing portraits of the
illustrious individual we have just alluded to ; which, though possess-
ing many great and sterling qualities, do not, generally speaking,
attain to the pitch of excellence visible in the late Sir Thomas Law-
rence's likeness. An early portrait of his Grace is that equestrian one
published by Ackermann, representing him at the grand review which
took place in the Great Park at Windsor on the 5th of June, 1814.
It is by De Daubrawa, and cannot be said to be a flattering likeness
of his Grace, though it has all the characteristic traits of his physi-
ognomy, especially the look of firmness and self-possession which are
always strongly developed in his face. In this print, which is very
neatly coloured, the action of the horse it not so elegant as in one
subsequently published by the same firm, and executed by the same
artist. This is the well-known portrait of the Duke, representing
him on horseback, passing the statue of Achilles in Hyde Park, with
102 THE DUKE AND HIS PORTRAITS.
his hand raised to his hat returning a salute. This gives us the noble
Duke very much as he appears at the present moment. The head is
full of fine character, and the action of the figure is easy and uncon-
strained. The horse is well drawn, and in fine action. The rider
sits the horse with a firm seat, and the knowledge of the artist in the
composition of an equestrian group is displayed perhaps in this
point more than in any other. Taking it altogether, this may be
considered one of the most truthful likenesses of the noble Duke
extant.
The full-length portrait of his Grace, painted and engraved by
Mr. J. Lucas, and published by Mr. Moon, of Threadneedle-street,
is chiefly remarkable for the justness of the expression and the dig-
nified bearing of the figure. The artist having engraved the plate
himself (it is in mezzotint), may be supposed to have infused into it
all the spirit and meaning of the original painting. The plate is cer-
tainly distinguished by a free and masterly touch, as well as by spirit
and character. The effect of light and shade is managed with consi-
derable art, and the print is generally distinguished by a fine rich
colour. It is evident that a painter's hand has been busy on the
plate, from the feeling and expression which is visible in every part
of it.
The last plate illustrative of the Hero of Waterloo, to which we
shall at present call attention, is one of considerable importance. It
is an admirable engraving by Mr. C. G. Lewis, of Mr. Knight's grand
picture of the Duke of Wellington receiving his illustrious guests at
Apsley House on the anniversary of the glorious eighteenth of June.
This plate is executed in the mixed style of engraving, consisting of
line and stipple combined. The portraits included are, besides that
of the noble host, twenty-nine in number, to wit: those of Gen.
Lord Strafford, Lt.-Gen. Sir Edw. Kerrison, Bart., Major-Gen. Hon.
H. Murray, Lt.-Gen. Sir J. Waters, Maj.-Gen. Sir Robt. Gardiner,
Lord Fitzroy Somerset, Maj.-Gen. Sir Geo. Scovell, Gen. Lord Hill,
Lt.-Gen. Sir P. Maitland, Sir H. Hardinge, Sir A. Dickson, Hon. E.
P. Lygon, Sir C. B. Vere, Hon. Sir H. G. P. Townshend, the Mar-
quis of Anglesey, Col. Lord Sandys, Gen. Sir J. Lambert, Lt.-Gen.
Sir J. Kemp, Lord Saltoun, Maj.-Gen. Sir Neil Douglass, the Duke
of Richmond, Lt.-Gen. Sir A. Barnard, Lord Vivian, Col. Cathcart,
Col. R. Egerton, Maj.-Gen. Sir H. D. Ross, Col. Rowan, Lt.-Gen.
Sir Thos. Reynell, and Col. Gurwood. A composition including so
great a number of portraits, must have cost the artist no little labour ;
but that labour has been well employed which has produced so suc-
cessful a result ; for the likenesses are, we believe, admitted gene-
rally to be unmistakeable. It has been objected to this composition,
that the heads of the figures are rather too much in a line ; but this
is almost a necessary consequence of the choice of subject ; and indeed
this effect is considerably modified by the arrangement of the light,
which is managed with admirable art. Great credit is due to the
engraver, Mr. Lewis, for the execution of this plate, which is of very
large dimensions. He has preserved all the spirit of the painting.
This engraving has just been published by Messrs. Graves and Co
of Pall Mall.
THE BANQUET AT APSLEY HOUSE. Mr. Salter's picture repre-
sents a most powerfully interesting incident ; and though it is one
that annually recurs, it is not the less interesting on that account. It
THE FINE ARTS. 103
is not, as has been justly observed, an imaginary mingling of like-
nesses in a scene which might never have occurred, but possesses al-
most the identity of actual existence, for every individual of the dis-
tinguished company assembled on the anniversary of the glorious 18th
of June sat to the artist for his portrait expressly with a view to this
picture. The dinner is given in the Waterloo Gallery at Apsley
House, and the period represented is when the company after dinner
have broken into groups, and just as the Duke of Wellington has
risen to address them. The table is surrounded not only by the
brothers-in-arms of the Duke, but by many of the elite of the nobi-
lity, both male and female, as well of this country as of Europe. The
Duke is habited in the uniform of a field-marshal, and wears the
orders of the Garter, &c. On his right is his late Majesty William
the Fourth, and on his left the Prince of Orange, now King of Hol-
land. The painting has all the strength of effect, fine colour, and
good drawing, for which Mr. Salter has gained so high a reputation,
and the engraving by Mr. Greatbach will be admired for its charac-
teristic treatment and exquisite finish.
We shall avail ourselves of this opportunity to offer a few remarks
on two or three very clever engravings which have recently made
their appearance ; and first, of that large and highly-finished compo-
sition by Mr. E. Landseer, called
"THE RETURN PROM HAWKING."
This is generally esteemed one of Mr. E. Landseer's happiest composi-
tions, and the plate engraved from it by Mr. J. Cousins will doubtless
add to that clever engraver's already high reputation. It is dedicated
to Lord Francis Egerton, and contains portraits of his Lordship's
family. The composition is most picturesque and interesting, great
science being displayed in the design and disposition of the figures.
The animals which are introduced, and which it may be expected
constitute a most important ingredient in the picture, have all the
characteristics of the finest nature ; and the beautiful figures of the
horses and dogs, as well as those of the ferce naturae which are scat-
tered about the fore-ground, indicate the presence of the master
hand. As a family group, it is certainly one of the most successful
attempts we have lately seen. It is full of elegance and picturesque
effect, the finest contrasts and most elaborate finish. This plate has
been published by Mr. Moon.
A BARONIAL HALL IN THE OLDEN TIME. Mr. Cattermole's
reputation as a delineator of scenes of this class stands deservedly
high. He has the talent of investing them with all the verisimili-
tude of present existence, and of surrounding them with that in-
terest which a just expression of feeling is always sure to excite.
In this latter particular Mr. Cattermole stands almost without a
rival. In the print now under notice, the fine expression of the
heads, so delicately varied, and so full of meaning, will strike every
observer. The subject is simple and interesting, being nothing
more than the regaling of a few humble individuals, according to
the ancient system of hospitality exercised in the baronial castles of
England. The plate itself, by Mr. J. Egan, is a singularly fine
specimen of mezzotint engraving. It has a beautifully rich effect,
and is in all respects an admirable representation of the picture.
104
MY CHILD'S GRAVE.
THE SCHOOL. This is an engraving after the last great work
painted by the late Sir David Wilkie. It presents a good specimen
of that lamented painter's peculiar style, and is conceived in his
most humorous vein. It is remarkably characteristic, and full of the
animation natural to the scene. The various emotions of the actors
in this bustling scene are admirably expressed. From the peda-
gogue, who is seated in all his awful dignity, down to the merest
tyro in the crowded school-room, every face teems with the most
appropriate expression, snd it is impossible not to admire the discri-
mination with which the painter has selected his subjects. We
discern, without any danger of mistake, the characters of all the indi-
viduals; the dullard, the idler, the thoughtless, the mischievous,
and the gay, all are alike painted to the life. And then, what labour
has been expended in the finish throughout ! Nothing is neglected;
nor is there apparent any of that easy generalization which is usually
only an excuse either for ignorance or neglect; but every part of
the picture is finished with proper expression and due force. The
engraving, which is by Mr. J. Burnett, is an excellent specimen of
the art. This, as well as the preceding plate, is published by
Mr. Moon.
MY CHILD'S GRAVE.
MY little one ! the world looks cold,
My sadden'd heart doth turn to thee,
And now again mine eyes behold
Thy mound beneath the alder tree !
Once more I tend the flow'rs that bloom
Beside thine unpretending tomb !
Sweet innocent ! they sanctify
Thy place of throbless rest awhile,
With dew-drops borrow'd from on high,
And many a joyous summer smile !
The rudest winds that o'er thee move
Are soften'd to a breath of love !
A meditative beauty here
Doth linger on the quiet scene,
And, waken'd to a sense of pray'r,
The mind looks forth unveil'd
serene ;
While thoughts are rife of those beneath,
Amidst the solitude of Death !
And lovingly we trace again
Each unforgotten semblance o'er,
The fond caress, the playful vein,
The tenderness, endear'd of yore !
They steal upon us in that hour
When Memory resumes her power.
And thou, my child, I shadow forth,
In all thine artless, infant grace,
That made me prize thee first of earth,
And bless thy bright and winsome
face ;
Though fleetly closed thy dawn of life,
At least, it knew no taint of strife !
I fondly thought thou wouldst become
My stay, my hope, in years' decline ;
But comfortless is now my home,
And dimly doth its taper shine :
For what have I to do with joy,
When thou hast wander'd hence, my
boy?
I know thou art in yonder heaven,
With rays of fadeless glory crown'd,
But still my steps each quiet even
Bend thither to this holy ground.
Strange sympathy my feelings have
With that secluded moss-clad grave !
There, seated by thy little stone,
My thoughts to other days allied,
I count the weary seasons gone,
Since thou wert at thy father's side,
And lisping out, as day grew dim,
Thy mother's own loved vesper hymn !
The streamlet murm'ring by doth seem
To wake familiar tones to me ;
The passing wind, too, stirs a theme
That brings me nearer still to thee :
And thus in sweet commune of love
I seek my long-lost child above !
I cannot weep, my tears are spent,
But not the less my heart doth mourn,
When upward these weak eyes are bent,
Then desolate to earth return :
But soon the conflict will be o'er,
And, angel ! we shall part no more !
105
BRIAN O'LINN ;
OR, LUCK IS EVERYTHING.
BY THE AUTHOR OF " WILD SPORTS OP THE WEST."
WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY JOHN LEECH.
CHAPTER V.
Brian's Confessions continued.
I WAS scarcely five paces distance from my young protector when the
fatal bullet found its mark, and in a moment I was kneeling beside my
departed friend, and supporting the bleeding body in my arms. Life
was totally extinct the ball had passed directly through the heart,
and death was instantaneous. How fatal were my visits to the metro-
polis ! The first disgraced me in the eyes of a man I loved better than
any in the world the last, when my innocence was re-established,
afforded me but the melancholy opportunity of witnessing his untimely
end.
The indifference with which loss of life is regarded in Ireland was
never more strikingly exemplified. Within a few minutes after Wil-
liam St. George fell, the crowd had quietly dispersed to resume their
ordinary employments, and it was with some difficulty that a few men
could be found to transport the body on a door to a neighbouring cabin.
Captain O'Brien and another officer remained with the corpse until a
hackney-coach was obtained from town ; and the remains of our young
friend, wrapped in a military cloak, were driven into the barrack-yard,
and deposited in his room, to await the coroner's inquest. The moment
his antagonist dropped, Darnley and his second hurried from the field,
jumped into a carriage in waiting, and departed none knew whither.
Duelling is no longer a common-place occurrence in Ireland, and the
death of William St. George occasioned an unusual sensation. Heir to
a large estate a star of first magnitude in the world of fashion in
everything distingue admired by one sex, and envied by the other-
the circumstances under which he was hurried so unexpectedly from
existence were generally discussed, and as universally execrated. The
detestable ingratitude of Darnley, and the infamous return a faithless
mistress had rendered to a generous and too-confiding dupe, command-
ed sympathy for him who had fallen, and reprobation on those who
had been the agent and the accessory to his murder. Mrs. Montague
made a hasty and secret departure from the kingdom, and joined her
paramour in France while Darnley did not venture to abide the ordeal
of a trial, and, in two or three gazettes, his name was removed from
the army list.
The grief which this sudden and unforeseen calamity caused at Car-
ramore, may be readily imagined. Cold as she was, and centered as
her affections were in Arthur, the death of her first-born was felt se-
verely by his mother ; while, for a time, the poor colonel was inconsol-
able. Indeed, the regret for William's death was universal and an
immense assemblage attended the funeral of my departed protector,
and offered that last tribute of respect. I followed the body of my
VOL. XIX. I
106 BRIAN O'LINN.
friend, in heart, though not in "inky cloak/' a mourner, and when
the vault was closed, I felt that once more I was an isolated being cast
adrift upon the ocean of existence.
It was not long until the unhappy consequences which were fated
to attend the decease of my weak but warm-hearted protector were
fully developed. The new heir seemed determined to rule with a
lordly hand ; and, broken-hearted by the loss of his favourite son, the
Colonel indolently allowed him, step by step, to assume an absolute
command. But a marked alteration in the old gentleman's bearing
towards me was perfectly incomprehensible. Formerly, he appeared
to court my company, and more especially in the field, but now,
he as studiously avoided it. It was clear that his feelings had un-
dergone a change. Who the person was who had injured me with
my last protector was, at the time, only suspected, but in a few days
all doubt upon the subject was removed.
Regarding Susan Edwards I have been silent. The deep calamity
the house of Carramore had undergone was all-engrossing ; and every
day led us to anticipate that our course of love would not run smooth.
One evening when I visited her father's cottage I found that Susan
had been weeping, and I pressed her to confide to me the causes of her
sorrow. She looked at me silently burst into tears and, throwing
her arms wildly round my neck, implored me not to question her. No
concealment had ever existed between us, excepting on my part,
when I obeyed the injunction of my departed friend ; and when I bade
my mistress farewell for the night, a feeling not far removed from
jealousy came over me. But of whom should I be jealous ? I asked
myself the question, and blushed that I ever should harbour a doubt
of Susan's constancy.
At dinner, I perceived that Mr. Brownlow appeared unusually se-
rious ; and when the cloth was removed, and I asked him to assign
me my evening's task, he made some trifling excuse, and told me to
remain. I saw that something gave him secret pain and, in a few
minutes, he thus addressed me
"My dear Brian," he said, with considerable emotion, "I fear that
our quiet relations are not to continue much longer ; I am no fatalist,
but they say that misfortunes tread fast upon each others' heels. The
recent and dreadful visitation we all have suffered, sits heaviest where
it might have been expected, and Colonel St. George appears to have
sunk beneath the blow. His mind seems prostrated and I cannot
conceal the truth, but own that in Arthur's unexpected elevation to an
authority which poor William never aimed at, your evil planet has be-
come ascendant. Ha ! how strange ! Since his return from Oxford,
he never crossed this threshold, and see, he enters the wicket. What
errand brings him here ? Nous verrons."
" You dine early," said the visitor.
" Nothing remarkable in that," returned Mr. Brownlow. " I am an
unfashionable man, and eat at unfashionable hours my clothes are
made by the village tailor these boots are the handywork of Waterloo
Jack and I walk, move, and sleep, not caring one farthing whether
the world approve or disapprove."
The cold and cynic manner in which the ex-preceptor addressed his
quondam pupil, struck me forcibly.
" You are unusually philosophic."
" And most perfectly sincere," was the reply.
BRIAN O'LINN. 107
" Well, if you please, we'll put philosophy aside, and come to sub-
lunary considerations."
" I am quite at your service, sir ;" and the Vicar bowed formally.
" Upon my soul ! Brownlow "
It was the first time Arthur St. George had addressed his tutor un-
ceremoniously, and the sentence was interrupted.
" Mr. Arthur St. George, I am generally mastered, or mistered,
as the vulgar reading is."
" I crave your pardon," was the reply. " Fancy that both titles are
conferred, and then let us proceed to business."
" I am all attention, sir," was the cool answer ; and Arthur continued
his remarks with assumed indifference.
" Of the extravagant disposition of my late unthinking brother, I
need scarcely tell you. It is enough to say that the extent of his
debts are almost incalculable, and drafts every day are made upon my
father, which respect for the memory of the dead require should be
honoured instantly. A system of retrenchment must consequently be
resorted to in Carramore, and I have undertaken a task scarcely infer-
rior to that of cleansing the Augean stable ; and, in plain English,
have set to work to reduce an overgrown and most expensive establish-
ment. The fox-hounds will be handed over to a club the stables
shall undergo a sweeping reform idlers who pretended to trap vermin
and kill magpies shall be dismissed and, in carrying out the system,
I have felt it necessary to call this evening on you and my friend
Brian."
" And I declare/' said the churchman, with caustic indifference, " as
I neither trap vermin nor shoot magpies, I know not in what way this
general reform can apply to me."
" Excuse me," returned the quondam pupil of the Vicar, " you are,
at least, indirectly concerned. At the solicitation of my late lamented
brother, before he left Carramore to join his regiment, my father
agreed to settle a hundred a-year on this young gentleman until he
should attain his majority."
" On me !" I exclaime'd. "Tis the first time I ever heard it."
" True, however, as Mr. Brownlow can inform you."
The Vicar bowed assent.
" Then have I additional cause to mourn for the generous friend I
have so unhappily been deprived of."
"As I am and let me add, very unwillingly made the organ of
communication by my father, I trust that what I am about to say will
be considered as not my own sentiments, but those of another. Our
young friend here," and Arthur addressed himself to Mr. Brownlow,
" has reached man's estate, and his position is a painful one over-
educated for any walk of humbler life, and without property or pro-
fession to take a stand in any higher grade of society. Under these cir-
cumstances, the Colonel feels that it would be injustice to one whom he
has befriended from boyhood, to allow his prime of youth to be idly
dreamed away. Brian wants three years of his majority, arid my father
holds himself his debtor in as many hundreds. That sum, judicious-
ly applied, may start our young friend on the world and I am direct-
ed to say that the money shall be immediately placed at his own dis-
posal, and he will thus be enabled to choose the path himself which
may seem likeliest to lead to fortune."
I listened to Arthur with unfeigned surprise. That I had lost fa-
i 2
108 BRIAN O'LINN.
vour in my patron's sight I knew already, but that I had become an
object of dislike, whom it was desirable to remove, was far beyond what
I had ever suspected. With feelings of the deepest humiliation, I lis-
tened to what I justly considered the edict for my banishment from
Carramore. Anger gave place to wounded pride : I felt the full ex-
tent of the indignity, speciously covered as it was, and, while tears
rolled down my cheeks, I rose and walked to the window.
" This seems a strange and sudden determination of the Colonel's, '
observed Mr. Brownlow.
" I really cannot pretend to say what time he may have taken to ar-
ive at it. " My duty was only to convey his wishes, which I have done
tears from my cheeks, and once more a manly flush reddened my pale
countenance.
" Tell him that the orphan who for years has existed on his bounty-
will burthen it no longer. For his liberal monetary offer he has my
most grateful thanks, but I respectfully decline it. Destitute he found
me, and penny less I shall leave Carramore."
t( No ! " exclaimed Mr. Brownlow warmly ; " I admire the feeling
that prompts your refusal of the Colonel's overture, but I deny its jus-
tice. To the dead, and not to the living, you are indebted for the
means of seeking an opening into life. Brian, sir, will be directed by
me ; and, on his part, I accept the proposition. He, without whom
the sparrow falls not, will protect him and I feel an inward assurance
that the finger of Providence, perhaps in this sudden and unexpected
resolve, points out the orphan's path to fortune."
" Then our young friend assents ? "
" He does," was Mr. Brownlow's brief reply.
"I shall see that the necessary arrangements shall be completed
without delay."
And Arthur St. George, after a formal " good evening," quitted the
vicarage.
It may be here necessary to remark that the Colonel's former friend-
ship had been maliciously estranged. He had been kept in profound
ignorance of the circumstances which led to the fatal duel which de-
prived him of his favourite son, and had been told that the cause of
quarrel was a trifling misunderstanding, which might have been easily
accommodated. He was also informed that I had been apprized that
a hostile meeting was contemplated, and that my concealment of the
fact prevented a friendly intervention. In a word, stunned by a blow
so deadly and unexpected, his judgment was easily warped. Arthur,
an adept in deceit, played his cards cleverly and I, who God knows !
would have spilled my'best blood to have averted the fearful calamity
which robbed me of one I loved with more than brotherly affection,
was absolutely represented as an accessory to his death. No wonder
then, that my once kind patron's bearing was so painfully altered.
It appeared that no time would be permitted to elapse in hurrying
my departure, for next day, the Colonel's agent called at the Vicarage,
and deposited 300/. with Mr. Brownlow for my use. What passed be-
tween them I know not, but Mr. Brownlow plainly hinted to me that
the sooner I changed my present residence the better the Colonel
would be pleased. My pride was wounded to the core, and another
BRIAN O'LINN. 109
sun should not have set until I had bidden Carramore an eternal fare-
well, had not I been spell-bound to the place ; arid, oh ! what spell
on earth equals a first love so ardently returned as mine was.
If the sudden and almost insulting manner in which I was discarded
by my old protector pained while it surprised me, how much more
painfully .received was the intelligence by Susan Edwards ! For years
our destinies appeared linked together and the park of Carramore
formed the world we were to move in. The illusion was dispelled, and
we were now to be separated. To think of marriage, at our early years,
would be considered too absurd. We talked over an hundred plans, and
mooted as many Utopian projets, which we were obliged ourselves to
smile at. At last we reached a conclusion that we must bend to cir-
cumstances for the present, but that at the expiration of two years, I
should claim my affianced bride, and whether weal or woe had resulted
in the meantime, we should then be indissolubly united.
Before I quitted Ireland, for what appeared an interminable period,
I felt a wish to visit the lonely island in which my infancy was passed ;
and, while I bade all besides a formal farewell, my pretty Susan and
Mr. Brownlow were apprized that in a month I should secretly return.
I received a small sum, but one that was quite sufficient Tfor a frugal
expenditure like mine, from Mr. Brownlow, and next evening I took
a temporary departure which all, save two, considered a final farewell.
The details of my wanderings to Innisturk would have no interest.
I landed, and none knew me. The headsman had been dead three
years smuggling was exterminated rents had increased, so had popu-
lation and I found an island, in which, a few years before, coarse
plenty had reigned abundantly, now overstocked by a half-starved
community, actually dependent on wind and weather for support. I
paid a visit to the abbey sate beside the graves I believed to hold my
parents' ashes and hurried from a place with which every recollection
was distressing.
Mr. Brownlow and Susan Edwards were alone apprized of my in-
tention to return, and they did not expect me for another week. It
was almost midnight. I could easily make my entrance into the vicar-
age without causing any disturbance ; and love's irresistible impulse
directed my steps to the domicile of my mistress. Of course she had
long since retired ; and probably, in her dreams held communion with
him she fancied far away. Well, even to look at the chamber which
contained the treasure I valued most on earth, would be a satisfaction,
and I hurried towards the keeper's cottage.
The moon had gone down, but it was bright starlight. Every inch
of the park was perfectly known to me ; and there was a path which
wound through a thick plantation which skirted a flower-garden di-
rectly underneath the fair one's casement. Many a time, when all but
love was sleeping, have I stolen from the vicarage to whisper the sum-
mer night away sketching imaginary scenes of happiness, and fancy-
ing them half realized. I reached the privet hedge which divided the
wood from the flower-knot, and my hand was laid upon it to leap over,
when a low voice in the garden distinctly pronounced the loved one's
name. Hell and furies ! Who could it be ? What meaned this mid-
night visit? A sting of jealous rage flashed through my tortured
bosom, and I held my breath to listen for the sound again.
" Susan ! Dearest Susan ! Listen ! Speak ! It is I, Arthur
Unclose the casement, and hear me for a few moments/'
110 BRIAN O'LINN.
Another harrowing pause succeeded. Would the invitation be ac-
cepted, and a midnight interview granted to one whom I had now a
full assurance was my rival ?
" Susan ! " repeated the voice. " By Heavens ! this coldness is not
to be endured. I know you overhear me, and I will not leave this
spot until you bid me at least ' good night/ "
After another painful interval, I heard the Basement softly opened,
and none can fancy the agony with which I listened to catch the first
sounds which should pass the lips of her I loved to madness. Every
limb quivered with rage and jealousy, and I could have slain, without
compunction, the man who was endeavouring to supplant me with my
mistress.
" Mr. St. George ! " said a well-remembered voice, that thrilled to
the very heart ; " I pray you to retire from the cottage. What would
my father say ? what would any chance passer-by infer were you dis-
covered at this late hour beneath my window ? "
" Fear nothing, my fair Susan. Your father sleeps, and no wayfarer
comes through the park after sunset."
" Such may be the case. But is it honourable is it manly to take
an advantage which accidental position has conferred, to press a suit
which I have peremptorily rejected, and propose arrangements which
your own heart must own are based on insult ?"
" Nay, Susan, your's are idle phantasies. The dream of cottage love
is but the fancy of a romantic girl. Disparity of birth between you
and me at once forbids the silly bond of matrimony. Everything beside
I offer a present establishment a future provision."
" Stop, I entreat you, sir. Every overture you make me becomes
more offensive. Hear me, and let me hope that what I am about to
say will end for ever the painful persecution I have lately undergone.
You urge me to become your mistress that offer I scornfully reject.
Start not : were your suit honourable, I would not accompany you to
the altar!"
A burst of bitter laughter followed the emphatic declaration of my
faithful Susan.
" I crave your pardon, madam, a refusal on that point, methinks, is
rather premature. But may I inquire, should I wisely determine to
find the lady of Carramore in a keeper's daughter, what secret cause
would mar this aspiring hope of mine?" and the sentence was deli-
vered in a tone of bitter irony.
t( You shall have a candid answer, sir. In the first place, I person-
ally dislike you ; in the second, I am affianced to another."
"Your dislike, my sweet Susan, must be borne with all the philos-
ophy I can muster, but the matrimonial difficulty might probably be
overcome. By putting a few ideas judiciously together, I conclude
that you are the fiance of a personage whom my weak father, and more
erring brother, picked up, Heaven knows where ! Need I name the
gentleman if a name, indeed, he have ? "
The deep sarcastic tone of voice in which this insulting allusion to
me was conveyed, stung me to the soul ; and God ! what would I not
have given for the power of striking the speaker to the earth. A mo-
ment's reflection, however, disarmed me. The offender was the son of
my protector the brother of my kindest friend, and duty to the
living and the dead, equally secured him from any ebullition of my fury.
" You need not, sir," was responded from the casement. " For the
BRIAN O'LINN. Ill
mystery in which his birth and family are involved, poor youth, he is
not answerable. It is enough to say that I have plighted my faith to
him who owns my heart, and when the time which prudence prescribes
shall pass, and Brian returns "
" Ha ! ha ! 'twas well, weak girl, you added the latter contingency.
Ay ! when he returns. Well, when he does, strange things may come
to pass! Have you coolly reflected on my proposition?"
" I have, and coolly and advisedly reject it."
" Will you prefer beggary to wealth ? "
" Yes ; and honest independence to a blasted reputation."
" Hear me."
" I pray you, sir, withdraw."
"Hear me, Susan. 'Tis the last sentence I will trouble you with at
present. For a month have I pressed my suit for a month have I
submitted to be fooled by thee. Ere that moon which fades apace,
shall shew again her first and feeble outline, Susan, by Heaven ! thou
shalt be mine!"
" And so may the same Heaven protect me ! never ! "
The casement was hastily closed for a minute my rival remained,
as it seemed to me, like one rivetted to the spot. At last, muttering
" Cursed, wayward girl !" he turned his steps towards an arbour at the
extremity of the keeper's garden. That arbour was planted by my-
self and every creeper that festooned it my hand had trained.
I made a corresponding movement along the hedge, and stood with-
in three paces of my rival.
"Pierre! "he said to
a person who was waiting for him in the sum-
mer-house, and whom I knew, by his accent, to be a foreigner whom
Arthur St. George had brought from Italy ; " the business has ended as
you expected, and the d d girl plays deaf adder. She has boldly
avowed what you and I had already suspected ; and that island-found-
ling has crossed my path of love. What, in the devil's name, is to be
done ? "
" Pish ! " returned the confidential adviser of the heir of Carramore.
" I anticipated the result of this experiment. Do you purpose to give
up the thing as hopeless, and retire from a fortress that, so far from ca-
pitulating, will scarcely parley ? "
"In one word, no! and, to use your military parlance, if the place
cannot be gained by sap, it shall by storm."
" Right ! " said his worthy companion. " No low-born peasant, did
I hold your position, should dare to thwart me."
" Nor shall they, Pierre," was the reply. " Come, let us home.
We '11 sup, and then talk over our future plans of action."
Both issued from the arbour ; and while his confederate moved a
few paces in an opposite direction from the cottage, Arthur stopped
and looked back upon the domicile of the fair one who had rejected
him.
" And so, my pretty Susan, you have refused my overtures, and
scorned my love," he muttered in a tone of voice which came hissing
through his teeth. " The enfant trouve lords it over your heart, it
seems, and the heir of Carramore is contemptuously rejected by a pea-
sant-girl. Well, I have sued thee in vain, but mark, weak girl, if
the day may not yet arrive when thou shalt in turn be suitor."
He said hurried after his companion and left the keeper's garden.
I followed them with stealthy footsteps until, in the feeble twilight,
112 BRIAN O'LINN.
I ascertained that they had taken the direct road to the castle. There
was nothing now to fear, and I returned to the cottage, and placed
myself under the casement of my constant Susan. 1 gave love's well-
known signal, and, in a moment, the lattice opened, and a faltering
voice demanded " Who is there ? " One whisper satisfied my mis-
tress that I was the late visitor ; and in a few minutes she issued from
the cottage-door, and was locked in my embrace.
I found on inquiry, that before my departure from Carramore she
had been secretly addressed by Arthur St. George, and insulted by his
libertine proposals. From the well-known warmth of my temper, she
feared to apprize me of the occurrence, and hence the concealment I
had remarked before I left for Innisturk.
A short and decisive conversation ended in the determination that
Susan and I should unite our destinies at once, and, young as we were,
trust all besides to fortune. Next day we should have ample time to
arrange our plans, for the keeper was going to a distant town to sell
his deer and rabbit skins to the person who was their annual purchaser.
After an hour's tete-a-tete we separated reluctantly she regaining her
chamber by the door, while I entered the vicarage feloniously through
a neglected window.
Before Mr. Brownlow was awake, I was standing at his bedside.
When I withdrew the curtains and he recognized me, his look evinced
a mingled feeling of displeasure and astonishment.
" Why came you here without apprizing me of your intention ? and
when did you arrive ? " he hastily demanded.
I briefly answered the questions.
" It is so far well that your presence is a secret at the Castle, for all
friendly feelings towards you have ceased to exist in Carramore.
Your old protector has sunk into a state of hopeless imbecility ; and
Arthur St. George is virtually master. Ay ! he lords it here with un-
questioned authority, as if the Colonel filled a niche in that vault
where your weak but warm-hearted friend is now reposing. Where-
fore this unannounced visit, Brian ? To claim your money, I suppose ? "
" No, sir ; to claim my bride."
" 'Tis madness ; a boy and girl form an indissoluble engagement, and
that when the foot of each is only placed on the threshold of life."
" Young as I am, Susan requires my protection ; and to save her
from the infamous advances of a privileged libertine, I must remove
her from a place where her own purity might prove unavailing."
"Then, you know all? "
" Yes ; accident revealed a secret which Susan confirmed herself."
" You have seen her ? "
"I have."
" Then concealment is unnecessary. Brian, I regret to say that a
more confirmed profligate than Arthur St. George I never knew and,
for one so young, a more artful and persevering scoundrel does not
exist. It is strong language but, alas ! I can use no milder when I
describe him. Susan confided to me the insulting overtures which he
made, and which she so properly rejected ; and, in accordance with my
duty, I remonstrated with the libertine, and strove to impress upon him
the iniquity of harbouring designs against one so innocent, and one de-
termined to continue so. I will not detail the particulars of the inter-
view, nor mention the gross manner in which an appeal to his honour
was returned by irony and insult. Stung to the soul by the ingrati-
BRIAN O'LINN. 113
tude of a pupil, into whose mind I had vainly laboured to instil better
principles, I resigned the Vicarage, and quit this house forthwith.
You marked an altered manner in my reception. Do not mistake the
cause. My feelings towards you are unchanged, but I tremble for
your safety. Rest assured that he who crosses Arthur St. George in
any pursuit on which his heart is fixed, incurs a deadly enmity ; and,
from an unguarded expression which escaped from him during our
stormy interview, I am convinced that towards you his hatred is im-
placable."
" Forbearance may be pressed too much," I said. " So far as my
own feelings are concerned, no indignity I might sustain would ever
cause me to forget that Arthur is the brother of my lamented benefac-
'tor. But gratitude has limits, sir, and the memory of all I owe to
the family of Carramore would be obliterated in an instant, were insult
offered to Susan, or aught attempted to compromise the honour of her
whom I idolize."
Mr. Brownlow remained silent for a minute.
" It is a task beyond my judgment to advise the course to be pursued.
To contract a sacred and indissoluble engagement at your years, Brian,
is certainly a startling determination ; and to leave innocence exposed
to the attempts of an artful and unscrupulous libertine, a very hazard-
ous alternative. Go down to the breakfast-room. While I dress, I
shall think over the position in which you stand, and endeavour to di-
rect you for the best."
When the morning meal was ended, my kind tutor gave me the re-
sult of his deliberations ; and his conviction was, that to evade the pro-
fligate attempts of Arthur St. George, for Susan the protection of a
husband was indispensable. He would endeavour to obtain the sanc-
tion of the old keeper for our union, and the ceremony should be im-
mediately performed. In the mean time, it was advisable for me to re-
main in strict incognito, and not venture to the cottage until, in the
dusk of the evening, I could steal through the plantations unobserved.
The day seemed endless. Arthur and his foreign friend rode past
the vicarage ; and little did my rival suspect that the eye of one he
dreaded most on earth was bent upon him, as he looked carelessly at
the blinded window, behind which I lay concealed. Dinner came.
Mr. Brownlow and I talked over my intended marriage all in favour
of, or against it, was discussed, and his morning decision remained
unaltered.
Evening came the sun declined and when I thought it sufficient-
ly dark to venture to the cottage, I set out to visit my pretty mistress,
and announce Mr. Brownlow's concurrence in the step on which we
had ourselves decided the night before. The churchman had repeated
his conviction that had I not voluntarily removed from Carramore,
means would have been unscrupulously resorted to by Arthur and his
confidant, to free themselves from an espionage which love would
prompt, and they would find so dangerous. Dark forebodings of
coming evil crossed my mind. I loaded a case of pistols which Wil-
liam St. George had given me, and for the first time in my life, armed
myself against any treacherous attempt that might be made either upon
Susan or myself.
When lovers talk how quickly time hurries on ! We heard the
wooden clock in the keeper's kitchen strike eleven ; and Susan whis-
pered, as she threw her snowy arms around my neck, that prudence
114 BRIAN O'LINN.
demanded we should separate. I never felt more disinclined to quit
the cottage. Her father was away a village girl her sole companion.
Was it safe to leave her ? Some hidden impulse told me to remain
and I urged my bride to permit me to watch till morning. She laugh-
ed at my fears: and I reluctantly consented to return to the Vicarage.
Love's farewell again was pronounced. I left the keeper's lodge the
door was barred and bolted and a light twinkled from the lattice of
the loved one's chamber, and told she had retired for the night.
As I still threw a lingering look towards the room where all I loved
on earth would presently be reposing, I fancied that I heard footsteps
softly and stealthily approaching, and, bounding across the garden-
hedge, I ensconced myself in the plantation. My ears had not de-
ceived me. Three human figures passed through the wicket, and came*
directly to the summer-house I have before described. I took my
former position, and every syllable that passed their lips was overheard
distinctly.
" See ! " said the well-remembered voice of Arthur, " a light is
burning in her chamber. Is Susan not yet sleeping ? "
" I imagine she is not yet to bed ; and it will be better that we
should wait until the candle is extinguished," returned the Italian.
" I shall hereafter believe in ghosts devoutly," observed a favourite
servant of the heir of Carramore, " for by Heaven ! either Brian or his
fetch, glided through the next plantation when I was hiding the ladder
beneath the hedge."
" Bah ! 'twas idle fancy. What we fear most is ever the object
which the imagination conjures up," returned the foreigner.
" Where is the carriage ? "
" Not more than fifty paces from the road, and concealed behind a
clump of evergreens."
" It is a daring enterprize ; and should we fail," muttered my de-
tested rival.
" Why should we ? What ! three determined men not carry off an
unprotected girl ! "
" The feat is easily achieved," returned Arthur St. George. " But
let it once be bruited, and if I know human character and man has
been the book I studied most that island-outcast will not tamely
brook the wrong. Ha ! the light's extinguished. Stay ! let us calcu-
late the price the girl will cost us."
" Oh ! better give her up at once," observed the Italian with a sneer.
" She's but a paysanne after all she's beautiful 'tis true but let the
foundling have her."
"Never, Pierre," exclaimed his patron, passionately. "I have
loved, solicited, and was rejected. All that might be borne. But to
be rivalled and by one I have hated from boyhood up that wrings
the withers, Pierre. Off Travers ; bring the ladder hither."
Need I say that while I listened my brain was fired to madness.
Arthur was resolute to effect his villany, and I, as desperately deter-
mined to oppose it to the death.
i ^ rC a n ? inute , had ela Psed Travers returned, and, having laid the
ladder on the garden-walk, he received orders to repair to the place
where the carriage was in waiting, and have it in readiness to spirit
the abducted one away. So I should have but two to contend against.
Pshaw! armed as I was, twice the number should not have made me
hesitate a moment.
BRIAN O'LINN. 115
I cannot attempt to describe the feelings with which I awaited the
result. Perfectly acquainted with the locality, as Arthur and his in-
famous confederate advanced, I, under shelter of a parallel hedge,
made a corresponding movement. I saw the ladder raised against the
casement I saw my rival ascend and I heard the light frame-work
driven in. A scream succeeded a struggle followed
" "Pis idle, Susan," exclaimed a voice I recognized most painfully.
" The carriage waits. Come, leave this cottage and love "
" Off! infamous villain off! or my cries will reach "
" The ears of none. Let gentle force "
"Never but with life shall I quit this room. Help! Help! for
the sake of Heaven ! '*
*' What, ho ! Pierre ! I cannot master this wayward girl. Up, man,
and force her through the casement."
Up sprang the Italian ; and one bound brought me across the hedge.
" Oh, Brian, why art thou not near me ! " exclaimed a smothered
voice.
Action and not words, answered that appeal on my part. I turned
the ladder over the Italian fell heavily and unexpectedly and I was
the next instant through the casement.
" Hell and furies ! who is this ? "
" Brian dear Brian ! " exclaimed Susan with a scream of joy.
" Base treacherous hunch-backed villain," I thundered out, as he
let go the intended victim.
All these were uttered simultaneously.
<c Ha ! then take thy doom."
I saw Arthur draw a weapon, and clutched it. My hand grasped
the barrel of a pistol which I turned aside. An explosion followed
rapidly Arthur dropped upon the floor. In burst the peasant-girl
with a light ; and, to all appearance, if pallid face and a torrent of
blood announced a mortal hurt, Arthur St. George had paid the ample
penalty of guilt.
" Fly Brian he is dying."
I sprang from the casement struck the Italian to the earth-
jumped the hedge wandered at random over the country and on
this, the third day, am here.
" Upon my soul ! " exclaimed the Serjeant, who had evidently re-
pressed his approbation of the conduct of the rejected recruit, lest
it might interrupt a story which to him was highly satisfactory.
" Your conduct Brian, jewel ! was beautiful, out-and-out. Ye just
committed a trifling oversight. Why the blazes ! did'nt ye shoot that
fellow, ye call the Italian ? Well, no matter, there is none of us that
now-and-then do'nt commit a blunder! Oh, murder! if you had only
dropped half an ounce of lead into the carcass of the scoundrel you
tumbled off the ladder, devil a nater evening ever would have been
put in."
At the moment when the gallant sergeant had expressed his
satisfaction at the conduct of the neophyte, whom it would have
afforded him surpassing pleasure to have indoctrinated in the art of
war, a horn was sounded in the street, and a well-appointed tandem
rattled over the ruins of demolished delft. The driver was Reginald
Dillon.
" Why, what the devil," exclaimed the ex-dragoon, after he had
shaken me warmly by the hand, and welcomed me to Ireland, " are
116 BRIAN O'LINN.
you listed or about to list ? Good height, sergeant well upon the
pins square across the shoulders seldom honest George gets such
value for his money."
" Why, 1 am not myself a candidate for martial glory, but that
young person intends to seek the " bubble reputation."
" Upon my word, a promising lad when he fills out a little, the
making of a capital heavy, or a splendid flanker. Any account there,"
and he pointed to a newspaper, " of that extraordinary occurrence at
Carramore ? "
The rejected recruit changed colour, but I, by a side look, restored
his self-possession.
" What occurrence, Reginald, do you allude to ? "
" Why, the late attempt to assassinate the only son and heir of
Colonel St. George/'
" Pray mention the particulars."
" That would be a task beyond my power, for the whole affair is
wrapped in mystery, and the versions manifold as the tales of the
Arabian Nights. Some will have it that the attempt at murder
originated in revenge, and others affirm it resulted from jealousy. As
far as I can understand conflicting accounts, I should ascribe it to the
latter."
" And why come to this conclusion ? "
" I will tell you in a few words, and leave you to exercise your wit
in unravelling a mystified affair. A few months since, William St.
George was shot in a duel by a scoundrel, and his younger brother
became heir apparent to the large estates of Carramore. They call
him Arthur and, if report may be credited, had the gentleman who
took a shot at him from behind a hedge "
" He was not shot at from behind a hedge," exclaimed the recruit
unguardedly.
I placed my finger on my lip, and Brian bowed, to tell me that he
understood the signal.
" Well," continued Reginald Dillon," from behind a tree, if it please
you better. But I was about to observe, had the pistol been more
correctly leveled, if all accounts be true, the world would not have
sustained an irreparable loss. Although a sort of hunch-back, the heir
of Carramore is famed for his gallantries ; and many a handsome
peasant could leave her ruin at his door. One lovely girl, a keeper's
daughter, engrossed the libertine's attentions. He sued, succeeded,
and triumphed over her virtues."
1 'Tis false as hell !" furiously exclaimed the rejected recruit.
" How now," said Reginald Dillon, turning eyes, flashing with rage,
upon the youth who had thus so unequivocally denied the accuracy of
his statement.
" Forgive me, sir, I meant not to question your truth, but merely to
assert the purity of an injured girl. By heaven ! no person on earth
could shake the virtue of Susan Edwards ! "
" This is passing strange," observed Dillon, as he turned an enquiring
look at me.
I desired the sergeant and Brian to remain, stepped into the stable
with my brother-in-law elect, and condensed the story I had just heard
from the poor youth's lips. Before the tale was ended, Reginald was
personally interested in the orphan's behalf, and returning to the sit-
ting-room, he offered him a present home, and future protection.
I DRINK, MY FRIEND, TO YOU. 117
In glowing language, the island-orphan expressed his gratitude.
" I trust/' he said, " that this unfortunate occurrence will not pre-
judice me in your opinion, and that the charge imputed to me of de-
liberate assassination, will not be believed. I acted under the most
powerful impulse."
"And, Brian, jewel !" observed the serjeant, who had again refilled
his glass from the whiskey bottle on the side-board, " behaved like a
broth of a boy. Oh, murder ! if ye had only shot that villain ye call
the Italian. Here's bad luck attend the same and in future, Brian,
more power to your elbow ! "
And to prove the sincerity of his good wishes, the non-commissioned
officer turned down the alcohol, even to the bottom.
" Give me your hand, Brian," and the rejected recruit diffidently
took that of Reginald Dillon. " He who would not for the idol of his
heart, go to the world's end "
" Or through hell, with his hat off " modestly observed the serjeant
in a parenthesis.
"Deserves not woman's love," continued the ex-dragoon. "But
were insult offered to the loved one. Saints and devils ! There is a
laughing borderer I know, and did any living man whisper " black was
the white of her eye ;" by the foot of Pharaoh ! before the sun went
down, I would read the Dublin Evening Post through his carcass."
" Rather a strange method of collecting public intelligence," I re-
plied.
Reginald smiled the horses were presently put to. The dragoon
tooled me out of town, and ran the gauntlet of drunken carters and
crooked corners, with the artistic ability which proclaimed a superior
whip. Under the guidance of his groom, and on a Ballyporeen " bone-
setter," as the worthy sergeant designated the jaunting car on which
the trio were elevated, Brian, and .his military mentor followed us
more leisurely. The former to abide, a secret, the result of the oc-
currence at Carramore, and Sergeant O'Grady to locate himself for
the night in my kinsman's mansion, which lay within a most con-
venient distance of a fair to be holden on the morrow, where the said
dragoon expected to pick up a valuable assortment of "food for
powder," if, as he himself expressed it, " the lord would only stand his
friend."
I DRINK, MY FRIEND, TO YOU.
O LOOK for comfort in the bowl ; The gods oft drain their nectar bowls,
The bright bowl can impart Shall mortals then forbear 1
A charm, that soothes the wounded soul If gods delight to cheer their souls,
That heals the broken heart. Shall not the sons of care 1
When other cures we try in vain, How oft doth love deceive the heart !
The bowl affords relief ; Is friendship always true 1
Bright wine tears up deep-rooted pain, The bowl acts no deceiver's part,
And strangles infant grief. I drink, my friend, to you !
W. LAW GANE.
118
THE GUINEA TRADE.
BY ROBERT POSTANS.
IT sometimes happens that the wind and tide confederate together,
and make a joint attack upon the sea-beach between Walmer and Deal
on the Kentish coast, and although it is impossible to discover the en-
tire effects produced by this occult alliance, yet it appears their main
intention is to steal away the coating of live shingle (as the moveable
rounded pebbles are called) with which that shore is usually covered ;
preparing at the same time, a smooth, compact, sandy floor for " old
ocean" to gambol upon. The delinquents, however, are not permitted
to retain their booty ; for nature, by changing their direction, dissolves
the league, and thus mysteriously restores the shingle to the beach
again.
Whilst rambling along near the sea's marge, during the subsidence
of a combined gale and tide of the above description, enjoying the
luxury of exercise upon the smooth, hard sand, my attention was sud-
denly arrested by the appearance of a well-known countenance of a
cherished friend of my earliest days. The poor fellow was lying on his
back, half obscured by the fririge of foam which the yeasty waves had
flung upon the shore around him, and had evidently been cast away by
the violence of the then expiring gale. To rescue him from his peri-
lous position became the first impulse of my nature, as I was well
aware the loss society would sustain if he was washed away to sea
again, when luckily another dash of a rolling breaker flung him almost
at my feet in comparative security.
Scarcely crediting my senses at the strange and unexpected manner
of our meeting, I mechanically stooped down to examine his features
more minutely, thinking I might be deceived no, the reality was
complete there was the same radiant countenance, as when he first
came forth from the hands of his maker ; time and the cares of a busy
working world had left his placid brow unfurrowed ; the same sterling
worth as of yore shone in every lineament ; and, as the current of re-
flection insensibly glided along the stream of time to the blissful period
of our first intimacy, and back again down to the stern realities of our
singular meeting, the bitterness of the contrast humbled me exceed-
ingly. Vicissitude had done its work on me. I had formed new pre-
ferences, but my new facilities for enjoying life were all of a lighter
species, and if ' ( weighed in the balances " against the sterling worth
and weight of metal of my cast-away friend f< would be found want-
ing ;" however, being convinced of his identity, and valuing him at his
weight in gold, I cautiously scanned the neighbourhood, and seeing no
spectators near, I picked up my old companion, wiped the sand and
foam from his face, kissed him affectionately, and put him in my waist-
coat pocket.
" Pshaw!" said I aloud, after walking a few paces, "there was no need
of circumspection ; the waif was lawfully mine. The Lord Warden and
Cinque Ports combined could not divide us." It was a Guinea.
I felt a pleasurable emotion on finding the coin, arising not so much
on account of its value, as from the feeling that fortune had selected
me out of the thousands in the neighbourhood as her particular favourite
on the occasion : and this gratifying sensation is further aided by a
THE GUINEA TRADE. 119
peculiar faculty of the intellect pertinent to the event ; for nature
with that lavish benevolence which is so conspicuously shown in the
construction of the mind, has endowed us with the pleasing emotions
of surprise and wonder, in order to arrest our attention towards a new
or unexpected event ; and these states of sweet bewilderment gradual-
ly giving place to active curiosity, prompts inquiry into the history of
the newly-found object ; and following insensibly this educational pro-
cess of the mind, I began to wonder how it came to pass that my golden
friend was a cast-away upon the sea-shore at Deal. Perhaps it formed
part of a sailor's prize-money, and dropped from his overgorged pocket
when paying his boat-hire, for all travellers, from Julius Caesar down-
wards, have hitherto stepped from the boat to that bold shore ; piers
and jetties are useless there, all alike must wet shoe-leather on land-
ing. But idle conjecture ill suited the active state of my temperament,
so I walked on, twirling my guinea in the air, when, suddenly catch-
ing it in my palm, "Happiness," thought I, "is only half enjoyed
when enjoyed alone ;" and observing a knot of boatmen indolently chat-
ting in the noonday sun, I joined them, and told my lucky adventure.
"Ah!" exclaimed one of them, as soon as he had examined the
coin, " it 's one of Starlight Tom's guineas."
" Starlight Tom's guinea !" said I, slightly discomposed at the ready
manner he found an owner for my treasure trove. " Who is Starlight
Tom, my good friend ?"
" Sure as fate," said a second, " It 's another of Starlight Tom's
guineas."
" I know it by the spade," said a third.
"Starlight Tom," and "know it by the spade," were but riddling
answers to my anxious questions ; but, heedless of my perplexity, the
coin flew swiftly from one boatman to another, and after hearing my
evidence as to the whereabouts of the finding, the unanimous verdict
of the marine jury was, that I had picked up one of " Starlight Tom's"
guineas, but who " Starlight Tom" was, or what he had to do with the
guinea in question, was information I gained by piecemeal from the
Babel-kind of description each boatman gave of the affair. And to
render it intelligible, it is necessary to draw the reader's attention to
that period of the late war when France, under Napoleon, was march-
ing her victorious legions from one end of Europe to the other. Guineas
were then bought and sold at exorbitant prices, as much as
twenty-eight and even thirty shillings a-piece were given for them, and
buyers then realized thirty per cent, when smuggled to Gravelines ;
for this service boats were built at Deal expressly for the " Guinea
trade," long, narrow, six, eight, and ten-oared galleys, and manned by
men of muscle and endurance.
The Emperor Napoleon fostered this illicit traffic by every means in
his power : he caused buildings to be erected at Gravelines for the use
of the boatmen employed in the guinea trade, and every facility for
landing and embarking was given by the French authorities ; and the
singular spectacle of an English boat running under the guns of a
French fort for protection from an English cruizer, frequently oc-
curred.
The Government of England, however, declared the trade contra-
band, and treasure found under certain suspicious circumstances was
liable to confiscation : but the prospect of gain so excited the cupidity
of individuals, that speculators were easily found, prepared to run all
120 THE GUINEA TRADE.
hazards, and, in defiance of the laws, to export the precious metal, and
the Deal boatmen, as the most daring smugglers on the coast, were se-
lected as the fittest instruments to put their plans in execution.
To perfectly comprehend the obstacles they had to surmount, it must
be borne in mind that the revenue-cruisers of England, stimulated by
the keen activity of private zeal, were constantly on the watch, prowl-
ing about, eager to snap up the precious freight ; and if to their oppo-
sition be added the temptation of large sums of the most covetable
coin in the world, silent, but not the less powerful seductions, which
these lawless men had constantly to resist, and that too, in the most
opportune place for managing a fraud with impunity the solitude of
the wide ocean when even a plausible tale of a chase and plunder by
a roving privateer would suffice to silence all inquiry with those to
whom inquiry was forbidden by the lawless nature of their compact. If,
therefore, in spite of all these impediments and temptations, they were
uniformly successful and honest in their lawless traffic towards their
employers, we are bound to admit they acquitted themselves with a
courageous fidelity worthy of a nobler cause, and have deprived us of
the means of judging of their moralities by the ordinary mode of com-
parison.
Foremost among a host of daring men engaged in the contraband
guinea trade was " Starlight Tom," a man of gigantic proportions and
strength, of great volume of muscle, and capable of surpassing en-
durance ; his fame as a smuggler and seaman gave him pre-eminence
even with the skilful boatmen of the Kentish coast ; and their reputa-
tion as stout-hearted mariners is bounded only by the confines of the
world.
Like most men whose occupation is evading the revenue, Starlight
Tom had two characters, and it much depended from whom the infor-
mation came, what its complexion would be. Thus, if seen through
such a light as a collector of customs would show him in, we should see
a shadow cast upon his virtues, and his vices brought out in strong re-
lief; but there were those who knew him as a friend, and deemed him
worthy of that sacred name.
Having premised thus much, the reader is placed in a situation to
comprehend the subjoined account of Starlight Tom's last adven-
ture, and its connection with the guinea so fortunately restored to
society.
In a small snug parlour in one of those old weatherbeaten houses on
the beach at Deal, assembled round a substantial oak table, sat three
individuals: two of them, from their appearance, were hardy, grave-
looking seamen in the prime of manhood; the third was a middle-aged
man, whose pale, care-worn countenance strongly contrasted with the
bronzed, iron-looking men beside him. The trio were busily engaged
piling up new spade guineas in heaps of tens, hundreds, and thousands;
and when a mass amounted to the latter sum, it was put into a leather
bag, and carefully sealed by the pale-looking man before mentioned.
Excepting the chirping sound of the guineas as they struck against
each other in the counting, nothing was heard save that golden har-
mony : it seemed that the heaps of coin had produced in them a pro-
found emotion. The window of the room in which they were sitting
faced the sea, indeed, it may be said the house was almost in that ele-
ment, for at high water the tide washed round the base of the piles
upon which the parlour was perched, and the gurgling sound of the
THE GUINEA TRADE. 121
restless surges, as they whirled in eddies beneath the room, warned the
money-tellers the sea was nearly at its height.
From this window an ample view of the Downs charmed the eye,
and the immense roadstead, being dotted with a fleet of English men-
of-war, and a forest of merchantmen, lying at anchor, gave it the bustle
and activity of a place of great naval resort. Close to the water's edge,
immediately beneath the window, lay a long, snake-like galley, of a
most delicate build. As a model of symmetry and beauty she would
have arrested the attention of the commonest observer, and if curious
to learn how such a choice specimen of skill was christened, he would
have found traced on her stern, in neat letters of gold, " The Blue-
Eyed Maid." Her nose was already in the water, and a practised eye
could detect that the oars, eight in number, were in a position for in-
stant use, while, assembled at her stern, was a cluster of athletic men
who occasionally cast anxious glances at the window of the room above
described.
It is almost unnecessary to add that the occupants of the parlour and
the men round the galley were the smuggler Starlight Tom, and his
boat's-crew, and the careworn man the London agent, arranging with
the contrabandists the terms of the adventure.
As the nature of the compact between the parties was implicit faith
on the one side, and accepted trust on the other, action supplied the
place of words, and twenty thousand guineas in a score of leather bags,
were consigned to the custody of the smugglers in the silent confidence
of good faith ; and, as each man took his seat in the boat, he deposited
at his feet that portion of the gold entrusted to him, for the safety of
which he was held responsible ; and these preliminaries concluded,
they launched the galley, hoisted a light sail, and commenced running
over a lea tide for the French port of Gravelines.
It was as necessary to elude the vigilance of the men-of-war lying
in the Downs as the prying eye of a revenue-cruiser, and Starlight
Tom by steering " The Blue-Eyed Maid" direct for the British fleet,
disarmed suspicion by that bold manoeuvre, holding on his course direct
for the Goodwin,thereby inducing the belief that his present business was
connected with those sands, it being the practice of the Deal men to go
hovelling there, to be in readiness to assist any unfortunate barque ac-
cidentally stranded. His scheme so far succeeded line-of-battle ships,
frigates, sloops, and smaller craft were passed in safety.
An attentive observer would have noticed that, as tne galley cleared
the British fleet and began to near the sands, a cutter, with a tall
tapering mast and a powerful spread of canvas, emerged from the
cluster of shipping in the mazes of which she had been hidden, and so
shaped her course as to place herself between that boat and the coast
of France ; she was, however, at such a distance that although seen by
the wary smugglers she gave them no alarm, and Starlight Tom, to
keep up appearances, on arriving at the Goodwin, hove his vessel to,
intending to wait until the night should close in, and then, under its
protecting shade, to steal across the channel for his destined port.
It is necessary now to notice the movements of the cutter so recent-
ly alluded to, as she had a baneful influence upon the future fate of the
galley and her crew.
The repeated success of Starlight Tom in running guineas to France
had become so notorious that orders had been secretly given from head-
quarters to catch the contrabandist at all hazards, but fortune had al-
VOL. xix. K
122 THE GUINEA TRADE.
ways favoured him ; in vain had the captains of the revenue-cruisers
exhausted all their cunning to entrap him into their hands, so secret
and prompt had all his actions been they always proved abortive; and
it was only on his return from a successful trip that the outwitted offi-
cers knew that another freight of gold had slipped through their
fingers; but one traitor in the council is more to be feared than a
score of enemies in the field, and treachery had sealed the doom of
Starlight Tom. He was betrayed.
The captain of " The Speculation/' for so was the cutter named, had
received notice from a partizan of the smugglers, that a cargo of gui-
neas was intended to be run that night, and consequently, when the
galley put off from the beach, he knew she was " The Blue- Eyed
Maid," and that her freight was gold ; and overjoyed at the prospect
of taking the richly-loaded vessel, he could barely refrain from steering
at once towards her. But the cooler counsel of his mate advised him
to let her get into deep water before he made the attempt, well know-
ing if the smugglers had the least suspicion of his intended approach,
they would ply their oars and escape, for the galley in a light wind
and smooth sea could set the cutter at defiance. Still, as the night
closed in, it became necessary to obtain a closer position, so as to keep
her in view. " The Speculation" was accordingly insensibly stripped
of her canvas, sail after sail, until she lost her headway, and the tide
gradually drifted her towards the unsuspecting smugglers. This
cautious mode of proceeding, although fraught with wisdom, was to
the feverish imagination of the revenue-captain a work of ages ; but as
he approached the galley, an indication of a freshening breeze soothed
his impatience, for the cutter, in opposition to her victim, required a
strong wind to force her rapidly through the sea.
" Get your arms ready, men," he almost shouted with joy, at the
prospect of taking so rich a prize ; " I know Starlight Tom too well to
suppose he will allow us to ease him of his guineas without a blow, so
let us be ready. Ha ! what is he suspicious of our company already !
By Heavens ! he 's running-up his mainsail, and, as I 'm a sinner, if
the cunning rascal is* nt steering for the sand." In an instant the
captain of "The Speculation" comprehended the intention of the
smugglers, and half mad with rage and disappointment, he thundered
out to his men, " Hoist the peak of the mainsail, hoist there, at the
throat halyards, hoist away ! pack the canvas on her, or yon nimble va-
gabond will get clear away with his gold mine in spite of us."
The game had now commenced in earnest : it appeared the vigilance
of the galley's crew had warned them of the slow approach of " The
Speculation." The wary contrabandists had not allowed their pre-
vious success to rob them of their circumspection, and further admon-
ished by the freshening breeze, they hoisted their sail and stood in to-
wards the shoals of the sands, where the heavier cutter,, on account of
her draught of water, could not follow : and, hoping to overtake her
before she reached that place of comparative safety, " The Specula-
tion" was forced through the water by her disappointed captain at her
greatest speed; but it was soon evident that Starlight Tom would
reach the protecting shallows without molestation, and having thus un-
masked the sly intentions of his enemy, he determined to try a dan-
gerous mode of ultimate escape, but one which, from its danger, pro-
mised to be successful.
It is essential, clearly to understand the following manoeuvres, to
THE GUINEA TRADE. 123
state that the Goodwin Sand at certain periods of the tide is intersect-
ed by narrow channels, or, as they are locally named, " Swatchways ;"
being, in fact, small salt-water rivulets, having a depth of water vary-
ing with the state of the tide, in which small boats can navigate across
from deep water to deep water ; but, as the nature of the Goodwin is
that of a constantly shifting sand, these channels or "swatch ways," are
liable to change their direction also.
The ready intelligence of the smuggler, therefore, told him when
" The Speculation" commenced an active chace, aided by a freshening
breeze, that his only chance of escape consisted in running into one of
these " swatchways," and, if possible, to cross the sand, by which stra-
tagem an impassable barrier would be placed between him and his pur-
suer ; judging, from the state of the tide, that it would be impossible
to force a vessel with a draught of water equal to " The Speculation,"
through the intricate and shallow windings of the sands.
In sporting phrase, the game had now fairly run to earth ; and the
revenue-captain had the mortification of witnessing Starlight Tom and
his golden cargo enter one of these narrow channels, and, in a ser-
pentine course, worm his way into the very heart of the Goodwin ; he
was further tortured with the knowledge that if success crowned his
bold attempt, an uninterrupted sea was open to him for France. Tan-
talized by the dilemma in which he was placed, he saw from the deck
of " The Speculation" the slow but certain progress of the galley up
the " swatchway ;" at times she appeared to stick fast, but the crew
leaped into the water, and the light vessel thus relieved of her weight,
and further assisted by their strength, was lifted, forced, and drawn
within a few hundred feet of the opposite side of the sand, and the
deep clear blue of the main ocean was distinctly visible ; but there her
further progress was impeded, the channel dwindled away gradually,
becoming narrower and shallower, until finally it was impossible to
force the boat another inch. She was in a cul-de-sac.
The situation of " The Blue-Eyed Maid'' appeared irretrievable ; to
advance was impossible, and if she attempted to return down the
channel she would run into the hands of her enemy, and to remain
upon the sands for any length of time was certain death to all on
board. Never at any period of his dangerous career, did the contra-
bandist more require his skill and judgment, and Starlight Tom was
not the man to despair, he would have commanded in any station of
life ; cool, taciturn, and brave, the effects of discipline were visible in
all his actions ; a becoming severity was usually maintained in his de-
portment, and the most implicit obedience was shown by his attentive
crew. It was his pride to perform the most daring feats in imposing
silence, but it was a silence that exhibited the calmness of strength
the ruling influence of wisdom ; he permitted no unseasonable advices
from those under his command, and as he was always the first to step
into the lap of danger, he enforced by example the duty of others,
without a tumult without a murmur.
" Hold 1 " said he, as his willing crew strived to urge the boat over
the sand towards the sea ; tf it is useless labour, we have done all men
can do ; we must now arm, for while life remains in me, the captain
of that cruiser shall never touch one of those guineas. What say you,
my boys, are you willing to fight, or do you wish to serve the King ? "
The looks which the excited smugglers gave their leader were signi-
ficant enough to such a man as Starlight Tom who, feeling convinced
K 2
124 THE GUINEA TRADE.
he had eight resolute men to back him, prepared to defend the trea-
sure entrusted to his care at the expense of his life.
Much as the revenue-captain desired to take the smuggling galley
and her costly cargo, he felt it was impossible at present from the
deck of " The Speculation ;" she was out of the range of his guns, and
he hesitated to launch his boat and follow her up the " swatchway."
He knew Starlight Tom and his sinewy crew too well not to have a
wholesome dread of grappling such men in a hand-to-hand fight, when
under the maddening influence of desperation ; he had other views
which promised to be more safe, and which would take the galley and
her crew at a disadvantage. As soon, therefore, as he saw her further
progress up the et swatchway" was impeded, with the ready tact of
a seaman he guessed the cause, and at once determined to sail round
the point of the Goodwin to its other side, judging that as the galley
was nearly across, he should then be able to approach sufficiently near
to bring the smugglers within the range of his guns, and, under their
protection, to land his small boat and rifle " The Blue-Eyed Maid" in
comparative safety.
This plan of operation was open to one objection, it left the mouth
of the channel open for a retreat ; but as the tide was rapidly falling,
he reasoned that that which was difficult of performance half-an-hour
past, would soon be impossible, and like all active-minded men he con-
ceived and put his plan into execution promptly ; and filling the cut-
ter's sails he shaped his course for the opposite side of the sand.
The manoeuvre did not escape the attention of the wary smugglers ;
they penetrated the design of their enemy, and at a glance saw how
deadly the effect of his shot would be upon them in their exposed
situation, and the only course left for their adoption was retracing their
passage down the "swatchway;" and although the tide had ebbed
considerably, they prudently allowed " The Speculation" sufficient
time to sail round the head or spit of the sand, before they attempted
to force the galley towards deep water.
The only part of " The Blue-Eyed Maid" visible on board of the re-
venue-cruiser was her mast, the hull being hidden from their view by
the slightly raised banks of the narrow channel, the smugglers, there-
fore unshipped it, the better to mask their motions ; they flung every
article out of the boat not necessary for their safety, even the bags of
guineas were slung round the necks of the men who, stationing them-
selves round the sides of the lightened vessel, commenced their down-
ward passage. The distance to the mouth of the " swatchway" being
about a mile in a straight direction ; but the winding of the channel
made it about one- third more.
Stripped to the waist, the brawny smugglers heaved and toiled, and
foot by foot the grating keel was dragged along the surface of the
stubborn sand, and at last with great labour she was brought near the
opening into deep water. So far their progress had been unseen from
the deck of the cutter, but the protecting banks gradually falling
away as they approached the sea, the success of their labours was sud-
denly unveiled to the astonished gaze of the captain of the revenue-
cruiser, who once more saw his prey slipping through his fingers, for
by the operations just described the parties had only changed sides, the
impassable Goodwin was still between them. Nothing daunted, how-
ever, that persevering officer saw intuitively he must go round the
head of the sand again ; and once more the graceful vessel, obedient to
THE GUINEA TRADE. 125
the impulse of those commanding her, flew with increased velocity
over the track she so recently had passed, for the wind which had been
gradually rising during the manoeuvres, had reached a pitch which ma-
riners call a summer's gale.
With the freshening breeze and rising sea, the aspect of affairs had
changed, and Starlight Tom saw that all attempts to reach Gravelines
must be abandoned, and the only chance of saving the guineas consist-
ed in a rapid flight to Deal. Meanwhile " The Speculation" was fly-
ing through the sea towards the spot where the smugglers were strain-
ing every nerve to launch "The Blue- Eyed Maid."
" With a will, men!" shouted Starlight Tom; " all together, heave !
there she goes again so ! " and cheering on his men, once more she
was afloat, but not until their enemy had arrived at that distance
which even their own iron nerves told them was too near to be plea-
sant. Shipping their mast with nimble fingers, they turned her bows
towards the town, and, staggering under a large mainsail, away she
danced over the coombings of the seas ; " The Speculation," a crowd of
canvas above and foam beloxv, plunging along directly in her wake,
about a mile astern, in hot pursuit.
Onwards came the cruiser, swooping before the breeze, but she was
built to stand the rude buffets of the wind and sea in their angry
moods, and gained upon the delicately-moulded "Blue-Eyed Maid"
rapidly ; and by the time they had reached within a mile of the town,
was near enough to try the effect of her small-arms. The sea was
running fearfully high for such a boat as the smugglers to contend
with, and the spray flew from the crests of the waves like a snow-drift ;
however, the rolling of the sea, and the unsteadiness of the mark, ren-
dered their shot harmless, but this could not last long, as every minute
lessened the distance between the two vessels, and shortly after, as the
galley was driven almost on end by a huge sea, bang went a gun and a
shot whistled amongst the smugglers j still not a word came from the
fugitives ; again, and again, the bullets from *' The Speculation" flew
with fearful effect in the midst of them, and blood began to flow freely
from several of the men. Still they held on their course, regardless of
the shot, steered by the resolute Starlight Tom.
The two vessels were now near enough to be within hail, and the
hoarse summons of the revenue-captain was heard, commanding them
to surrender ; the sound of his enemy's voice was so close, that even
Starlight Tom involuntarily turned his head to assure himself of the
reality, and thereby discerning his grinning face as he was in the act
of ramming home his gun to have another shot at him ; he saw that in
a few minutes, unless he complied, he would be either shot or run
down. He addressed his men as follows
" The chance is against us," said he ; " you all know your duty
under circumstances like the present. If you are prepared, out with
your knives, but wait for the command."
The men soon grasped their knives, anxiously keeping their eyes
upon their leader, who appeared to alter his intention of avoiding the
revenue- cruiser, for shaping the course of his own boat, he allowed
" The Speculation" to range alongside, and then, when the captain was
about to jump on board "The Blue-Eyed Maid" to claim her as his
prize, the stern command of Starlight Tom was heard in loud derision
above the gale itself, " Cut their throats, my men, and disappoint him
of his booty-"
126 THE WASSAIL BOWL.
With an alacrity, quickened by hatred of the man who had caused
them so much toil, the knives of the contrabandists gleamed before the
eyes of the astonished captain, when each smuggler seizing his heap of
gold severed the neck of the leather bag, and poured the glittering
coins into the sea, and thus in an instant he saw twenty thousand gui-
neas vanish from his grasp ; and Starlight Tom, feeling that with the
loss of the treasure he had nothing to fear from the revenue-cruiser, he
permitted his boat to be boarded without offering the least resistance.
Notwithstanding Starlight Tom had foiled the revenue-captain and
baulked his enemy of a prize which would have enriched him for life,
yet was he from that hour a fallen man ; he had failed with his em-
ployers, and, like many greater men, he could not brook adversity ; for
grief is a burden which the broadest shoulders are the least capable of
bearing, and conscience often pricks sharpest in the bluntest men thus
it was with him. After beaching his boat he appeared, as my informant
said, " bewildered ;" and, taking a lingering look at his lovely " Blue-
Eyed Maid," condemned and useless as she lay upon the shingle, he
seemed to think " his occupation was gone ;" and shortly after he was
seen by one of his old associates walking away from the town on the
Dover road, and from that hour his fate is a mystery, for he was never
heard of again.
He is, however, occasionally recalled to the memory of the present
race of boatmen when the wind and tide casts ashore a stray coin from
the glittering heap he flung into the sea ; but it must not be under-
stood that they positively affirm the spade guineas, sometimes found
on the beach, to be the same he cast away ; but in the absence of better
demonstrations, the reader, by the laws of reason, is requested to
adopt the most probable conjecture as the heir-apparent to truth.
I have since discovered that spade guineas were so called in conse-
quence of the royal arms being contained in a shield, which bears a re-
semblance to a pointed spade.
THE WASSAIL BOWL.
'TWAS the pride of our forefathers, Then merrie England was endear 'd
In the palmy days of yore, By ev'ry social tie,
To gather round the wassail bowl, The wassail bowl would nerve the weak,
And crown it o'er and o'er And fire the drooping eye !
With the foliage of the luscious vine, It sway'd with sov'reign sceptre ;
Whose freshness would impart For the rich man and the poor
A joy upon the care-worn brow, Would quaff alike as on it pass'd
A blessing to the heart ! From hall to cottage door !
It must have been a thrilling sight Right cheerfully its greeting was
To see old age and youth Wherever it might come ;
Unite around the festal board, The sorrowful forgot their grief,
Whilst mirth encircled both ! And welcomed it to home !
To hear the gleesome lay pour'd forth, Triumphantly 'twas borne along,
And list the loud acclaim And each one gave his dole,
With which our fathers honour'd those To add fresh vigour to the grape,
Who earn'd a deathless name ! And fill the wassail bowl !
There are who lightly deem the past, There are, who lightly deem the past,
But men of noble soul But men of noble soul
Will tune their voices to its praise, Will tune their voices to its praise,
And hail the wassail bowl And hail the wassail bowl !
127
GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES, AND GAMESTERS :
AN ANECDOTAL ACCOUNT OF PLAY, HOUSES OP PLAY,
AND PLAY-MEN.
The statistics of St. James's and the adjoining parishes of St.
George's, Hanover Square, and St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, for the year
1839, furnish the extraordinary fact, that, within the length of, three
quarters of a mile, from west to east, from Dover-street, Piccadilly, to
St. Martin's Lane, taking the Quadrant and Pall Mall as the northern
and southern limits, there were at that period no less than fifty-two
common gaming-houses (including Crockford's) daily and nightly open,
the greater number of which were indiscriminately accessible to the
middle and lower classes; and it was calculated that to each of these
houses, on an average, there were attached ten persons in the several
characters of proprietors, croupiers, groom-porters, bonnets or hired
players, waiters, porters, and others, which on fifty houses would give
a total of five hundred persons employed ; and that many of such pro-
prietors and attaches received 51. or 6/., others 3/., 41. and 21. per Aveek,
according to their duties and capability. The average of these sums
might be taken at 41. weekly ; which taken as the multiplier of 500 (the
whole number in such receipt of emolument) would show an outgoing
of 2000/. per week, or 104,000/. per annum as only a portion of the ex-
penditure of such establishments, to which were to be added the further
charge of house-rent and taxes, wines, suppers, and other refreshments,
according to the style of the house, and description of company frequent-
ing it. These charges were estimated at a moderate average of 201.
per week, upon the ascertained fact that many of the higher sort
were at a weekly outlay exceeding 100/., others at 50Z., and even the
lowest at from 8/. to 10/. Such estimate gave the average amount of
expense exceeding 50,0001. annually, exclusive of cards and dice, for
which most essential implements of business (taking Crockford's cost
alone at 2000/. per annum), the outlay was fixed at 5000/. Hence it
appeared that a sum of 160,000/. annually was required to meet the
average outgoings of the metropolitan gaming establishments, before
one guinea could reach the private purses of the proprietors in the
shape of the enormous profit which invariably resulted to their specula-
tions. The next point of calculation was, how many of the estimated
total number of ten persons belonging to each house were of the class of
proprietors or principals in the banks, and the average number was taken
to be three, giving a total of one hundred and fifty persons living in a
style of expenditure graduating from 10,000/. down to 500/. per an-
num ; Crockford's income alone being estimated at 40,000/. a year.
The average income was on such calculation taken at 3000/., or 450,000/.
in the aggregate, which sum added to the estimate of 160,000/. outlay
and expenditure before exhibited, gave the grand total of above 600,000/.
per annum realized from the sources of public gaming-tables. Ex-
aggerated as such estimate may appear, it doubtless approaches some-
thing near to accuracy, and will serve at least to show, beyond all dis-
pute, that an immense amount of capital is thus annually withdrawn
from the wholesome and legitimate course of circulation, and that such
unnatural application is detrimental to the health and interest of so-
128 GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES,
ciety ; in confirmation of which it will be necessary only to give from
the same statistic account a passing reference to the parties from whose
pockets so large an annual sum is extracted. First and foremost
amongst the contributors to the enormous illicit revenue are old sires
and young sprigs and scions of nobility ; for as observed by Juvenal
u If gaming doth an aged sire entice,
Then my young master quickly learns the vice,
And shaker in hanging sleeves the box and dice."
With these may be classed men of large fortune in possession, and
their hopeful expectant sons and heirs, who in the excess of filial
anxiety to relieve their sires from the cares attendant on wealth
Wish them in heaven, or if they take a taste
Of purgatory by the way, it matters not,
Provided they remove hence."
Occasionally, too, large inheritors of unexpected fortune, men, who,
suddenly raised to wealth, without the judgment necessary to its pru-
dent control, seek to qualify themselves for aristocratic and fashionable
society by aping all its vices, follies, and extravagancies, are to be found
amongst the principal dupes. Another class of persons addicted to
play, and aiding largely in the great amount of profit to the gaming-
houses, is composed of men of moderate independence and income. Per-
sons engaged also in mercantile pursuits, members of the stock-exchange,
professionals, persons holding government and other appointments,
half-pay officers, &c., all of whom may be considered as individuals of
regular available resources, derivable from the stream of business and
employment, such are, generally speaking, of most speculative cha-
racter, and no mean customers to the gaming-table.
Descending in the scale, next may be noted clerks of lower de-
gree, and the middling grade of traders, with shopmen, servants, and
persons of various occupations, of narrow legitimate means, but some-
times tempted from the fair course of honesty by the fascinations of
play and the delusive hope of gain. Lastly, may be enumerated the
frequenters of the lowest receptacles of vice in London, whose callings
and occupations it would be difficult to describe, but who may be
classed generally as the idle, indolent, and vagabond tribe of the com-
munity. From such sources flows the great stream of wealth fertilising
the gaming colony of St. James's.
Gaming-houses, within the past five or six years, have been of some-
what uncertain and unsafe tenure. The passing of the Metropolitan
Police Act gave additional powers to the magisterial authorities, and
held out a kind of reward to, and was in some measure dependent on, the
vigilance and successful exertions of the Police force in their warfare
against the proprietors. One or two open attacks had the effect of re-
ducing the number of such establishments. Nevertheless, until the
spring of last year, the colony still continued its enterprising and
successful commerce with the public.
At Bond's house, at the corner of Bennett Street, there was for some
years immense play; but the elder and efficient brother of the firm
dying, a change came over the conduct and management of the estab-
lishment. The surviving proprietor, acquiring by the death of his
brother a large sum of money (50,000/. all gained in a few years, by
means of play), assumed an unwarrantable independence of manner
AND GAMESTERS. 129
with his increase of means, and did not observe the same gracious
treatment of, and respectful demeanour towards, his patrons, who were
chiefly members of the aristocracy, and of Crockford's Club. The
consequence of this was, that many noblemen discontinued altogether
their occasional visits. Some of them, however, had unfortunately
placed their names on the Debtor side of Mr. Bond's books, and he,
piqued at the loss of their custom, took the very unwise course of legal
proceedings for the recovery of the debts ; selecting a noble peer of the
realm, and a right honourable gentleman of known honour and influ-
ence, as the first against whom to enforce payment. He succeeded in
his object, but from that day his establishment became almost deserted;
and notwithstanding that he subsequently, under conviction of his folly
and impolicy, made extraordinary efforts to restore business, he never
could succeed beyond the custom of a poor penniless scion or two of
nobility, and, occasionally, a visitor or two from the city. With a view
to attract, he fitted his house up on a most splendid scale of magnifi-
cence, and in a somewhat novel style of arrangement ; the lower, or
dining-room ceiling, being entirely of plate-glass, had a most curious
effect in its reflection of the company seated at the table below.
Splendid dinners were given on particular days at which two or three
broken members of Crockford's, but supposed influential persons, were
the constant and almost the only guests. All methods and endeavours
were, however, ineffectual to re-establish the power, credit, and business
of the house. The pride of the aristocracy had been insulted, and the
countenance and patronage of the order had been irrevocably with-
drawn. The establishment, in consequence, closed, and within a short
time afterwards the proprietor was subjected to the process of a Qui Tarn
writ for certain moneys lost to him by certain parties, at his house of
play, together with three times the amount in penalties, to be divided
between the informer and the parish in which the house was situated.
The action is said to have been got up or promoted by two or three per-
sons, who had been employed as attaches of the establishment to officiate
at the table, and who, in such capacity, became cognizant of money
lost, and by whom it was lost ; a knowledge which they treacherously
turned to base account against their employer, so soon as they dis-
covered that their occupation was gone, and that he had no longer
business to engage them. The impolitic conduct of Bond against his
patrons brought its own proper punishment, but justified not the base
treachery of the employed, who, to carry out their designs, and realise
their object of extorting money in settlement of the action, insolently
subpoenaed several noblemen and gentlemen, who had been frequenters
of the establishment, to prove their loss of money to the amount sought
to be recovered by these most trustworthy and faithful servants. Bond
was, however, made of too obstinate stuff to yield to such imposition,
he, therefore, stoutly defended and brought the action to trial. The
verdict was against him, with a reservation, however, of some point of
law to be further mooted. For a time, therefore, the hopes of the
informers were defeated, and they did all they could in the mean-
while to urge the defendant to settlement ; but he was of sterner
determination than to yield, and he, therefore, calmly and indifferently
awaited the legal decision ; in the meantime he disposed of the splen-
did furniture and effects of his house, in St. James's Street. The
second trial came on, and the former verdict was confirmed. The
defendant, however, after having taken precaution to place his whole
130 GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES,
property out of legal reach, quietly took himself across the channel,
leaving the informing party to realise their judgment as they best
could.
The Berkley Club, situated in Albemarle Street, did much busi-
ness with the same class of persons, members of Crockford's and city
men ; it bore good repute and had credit for large capital. Two or
three years ago, a rather daring robbery, which made some stir in the
papers of the day, was committed on this establishment by one of its
confidential, who, being entrusted with the custody of the sum
nightly put down as a bank, entered into league with another party
(a relative it was said) to appropriate such amount to their own uses.
Accordingly, some time before the appointed hour at night for opening
the bank, it was arranged that the cash-box should be deposited in
some convenient spot for the confederate to come in and carry it off.
The spot fixed on is said to have been behind the street-door, which
always stood wide open from the fixed hour of business ; in such locality
was the box containing the treasure (about 1000/.) placed, and from
this spot was it speedily rescued by the expectant confederate party.
On the arrival of the proprietors at the hour of business, the confi-
dential was at his post, and in great pretended surprise and alarm,
announced that the cash-box and bank capital could not be found.
Minute search was made, but without effect. On the following day
opinion was busy as to the thief, and some suspicion falling on the
really guilty party, measures were taken to bring him to account.
The receiver was dexterously traced to a celebrated jeweller's in Bond
Street ; where, under the disguise of visage, effected by green specta-
cles, he had changed a large note in the purchase of an expensive ring.
The peculiarity of his appearance, manner, and tone of voice, had
attracted the more than ordinary attention of the shopman, who, on en-
quiring into the matter, declared he should perfectly recollect the party
making the purchase. It was then further discovered that the same
person had gone out of town to a fashionable watering-place, and to
such place he was quickly followed by one of the persevering and
indefatigable proprietors, accompanied by an officer, and the person
who had sold the ring. There, on the following day, the whole party
saw the delinquent in the public library ; and the person who sold him
the ring being requested to observe, if, amongst the visitors, he recog-
nized the particular person, looked round the room, and speedily
seated himself beside an individual in the act of reading the news-
paper : with a view to be more perfect in his recognition, he addressed
some question to him, and on obtaining a reply, immediately pointed
him put as the person who had bought the ring, and who had given
the identical large note in payment. The object of the visit was
quietly communicated to the accused, and he was advised to return
with the party to town, which, after some hesitation, he did. On the
journey, it is said, a greater portion of the money was given up, and
the object of the owners being thus accomplished, the matter was
suffered to die off without further proceeding. The particular de-
linquency has been very pointedly and particularly referred to in the
parliamentary examination before the Gaming Committee, as having
been committed by some of the parties prosecuting the Qui Tarn actions
against certain noblemen and others connected with the turf.
The Stranger's Club, in Regent Street, may be classed with the
Berkley, in regard to its character and arrangements, excepting that
AND GAMESTERS. 131
question has been made of its strictly honourable and correct mode of
business. At one time it certainly reckoned amongst its proprietors,
men of no very scrupulous conduct, while it resorted most extensively
to the Dunstable system of boneting, and of employing some very
handy workmen in the trade. Large sums of money have been lost at
this house, as may be surmised from a report which appeared a few
weeks since, of an action brought on a bill of exchange for 3000/. given
by a nobleman for money by him lost to the proprietors. The estab-
lishment is now closed, in consequence of its having been one of many
lately attacked by the police force. The chief proprietor is said, how-
ever, to have realized a handsome capital, and to have now taken to
the pursuit of horse-dealing in conjunction with a well-known cha-
racter of the Hebrew tribe. The other houses or clubs, as they were
termed, existing of late years, in St. James's Street, Albemarle
Street, Jermyn Street, and other adjoining localities, were all of
the same stamp, and of most objectionable character close houses where
men were robbed and plundered without remorse, and by the most
fraudulent means. The proprietors of these houses were, for the most
part, men originally of low-lived pursuits, who, by a system of petty
sharping, had realised a little, and, taking example, had commenced
business on a larger scale, and upon a capital approaching the point of
Zero in its amount, but quite sufficient upon their certain principle of
play, to carry on their trade of plunder. They might one and all
come under the denomination
" Semperque recentes
Convectare juvat praedas et vivere rapto."
A plundering race still eager to invade;
On spoil they live, and make of theft a trade.
Many of this gang first matriculated in the hole-and-corner den
which for many years flourished in Pickering Place, a small court in St.
James's Street, where the game of rouge-et-noir continued to be play-
ed until within the last two or three years. This house has from time
to time been kept by different individuals ; Jews and Gentiles have
varied the proprietorship, and these have again been subdivided into
tailors, butchers, fighting men, thieves, pickpockets, returned trans-
ports, and other industrious vagabonds. The business of the house
was most extensive, notwithstanding the fact that players had oppor-
tunity of risking no very excessive amount at one stake, the limit
being from one shilling to ten pounds. That business was so brisk may
be accounted for, by the reason that this was the only house where rouge-
et-noir continued to be played. The house opened at one o'clock in the
day and did not close until twelve at night, sometimes later, averaging
eleven hours each day, a time affording ample scope for realization of
large profit ; for assuming that the general play of the table (and the
house was full from morning till night) was equal to 10/. an event,
the average number of deals in an hour would give events of certain
profitable occurrence to the bank, equal to 100/. per day. And when
it is stated, in addition to this, that bold and determined persons were
permitted to play a higher stake than 10/., upon their paying a pre-
mium of five per cent, on the excess, that is, in reality, a premium of
five per cent for the privilege of playing one and a quarter per cent,
more ; it may be fairly taken that the profits of this apparently insig-
nificant concern, were equivalent to six or seven hundred pounds per
week.
132 GAMING, GAMING-HOUSES,
Iri illustration of the power of the double pull of the per centage
of the game, and the premium charged on high play, it may be
stated, that a city gentleman went into this house with 300/. in his
pocket, a portion of which he lost, and being pressed for time,
and anxious to play a bolder game, he consented to pay the premium
on the increased stake beyond 101. and sometimes augmented his risk
to 30/. an event ; a person sitting near him, a mere observer of the
game, amused himself by noticing, from time to time, how much, the
player alluded to actually paid to the table, or proprietors of the
bank, on the occurrences of the trente et un apres, and the payment
of premium on the increased stake j and the amount came to J21. and
some shillings in about three hours, so that this sum was actually
paid from the capital of 300/. for the privilege of losing the balance ;
a privilege that was fully and practically exemplified.
Such a statement appears barely credible, and what makes the
account still more difficult of belief is, that the person who so insanely
indulged in this ruinous and extortionate system, was a keen, clever
financier, devoted to stock exchange pursuits, and time bargains, and
in such transactions, could appreciate the true value of one-eighth
per cent, in its frequent operation. Yet the statement is correct to
the letter, and proves the fact that the " wisest clerks are not always
the wisest men."
From this insignificant haunt of idleness, profligacy, and pauperism,
and from one or two others of equally low and disgraceful character,
in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square (to which all had indiscrimi-
nate admission, who could scrape together a few shillings, no matter
by what means), have emerged the majority of sharpers, who, within
the few past years, have infected the locality of St. James's. From
the same polluted source have been introduced also to Tattersalls, and
the turf, men of the most disgraceful and dishonourable character,
who have gone on, for a time, in a successful course of betting, and,
on the first reverse, have disappeared altogether from the scene. One
instance will be ample of such knavish impostors.
A man of the name of D s, a tailor, who had slipped from the
shopboard, and become one of the earliest speculators in the Shilling
Slaughter House, in Pickering Place, had there, by good fortune, and
great industry, got together a few hundreds, as his portion of profit
and plunder. Thus, master of means beyond expectation, he became
suddenly imbued with aristocratic notions, he had a soul above buttons
and broad-cloth, and resolved on trying his fortune and capabilities in
a higher sphere. He, accordingly, personally seceded from his old
haunt in the court, and took an attractive and commodious mansion in
St. James's Street, which he opened to a more distinguished class of
speculators ; he was very successful, and this change of position bring-
ing him in contact with many sporting gentlemen of the turf, he
entered a little into betting connected therewith, and ventured his
hundred on the Derby, and with favourable result. Thus encouraged,
he found his way, in due time, to " The Corner "; and having, by habit,
a large stock of buckram ; and, by ignorance, an equal quantity of
assurance ; he applied these all necessary ingredients to success, with
extraordinary diligence ; and strange to say, became, in a very short
time, one of the most prominent betting men of those ranked as the
" Leg Fraternity."
Year after year he was successful, and continued to amass money
AND GAMESTERS. 133
from the pockets of the honourable, respectable, and wealthy, whose cre-
dulity led them to confidence in the man. His vulgarity and insolence
were lost sight of in the credit given to his pecuniary capability, and
he was permitted to strut his way, and hold conference, and enter into
large contracts with the most distinguished patrons and supporters of
the turf; under which state of sufferance, so inflated did he become,
that in the unnatural swell and playfulness of his fancy, he seemed
one of the class who condescended to bet with him. In this state of
delusion, it is reported that he one day addressed himself to a noble-
man distinguished, and justly respected, for his honourable and active
exertions to purify the betting ring ; and, with insolent familiarity,
called out, amidst the whole company assembled in the subscription
room, " B k, I'll bet you WOOL to 50/. (or whatever the oifer might
have been) against such a horse." The fellow's voice was known, and
astonishment seemed to strike every one who heard him, save only
the nobleman himself, who, with the proper pride of a gentleman, and
the most exalted and thorough contempt for the ignorant vagabond,
who had presumed to such familiarity, took not the slightest notice of
the fellow ; the effect of which was to subject him to the unrestrained
laughter and ridicule of the room ; for it is but just to say that proper
respect to distinction of social position is never so grossly lost sight of
amongst the heterogeneous mass of men meeting at Tattersalls, as in
the instance recorded. Snip, however, though somewhat abashed,
was not daunted by this cut of his comb, but continued his betting
speculations.
Year after year added to his successes, and increased his gains ; and
in the season of 1840, he won a very large stake on the St. Leger, the
whole of which he was fortunate enough to receive, in the rooms at
Doncaster, where he had also gambling tables nightly at work. He
collected so many notes in payment, that he was obliged to make his
.hat the receptacle for their deposit ; and it was here that a first symp-
tom of his knavery peeped out, in his dispute with a gentleman, rela-
tive to the payment of a bet of 300/. lost on the St. Leger event. The
tailor denied the bet, but fortunately the gentleman had evidence of
the engagement, and this evidence he produced to the satisfaction of
Lord Kilburne, the steward of the race, who forthwith ordered imme-
diate settlement. The following year gave full exposition of the
character of this unprincipled vagabond. The horse, Coronation,
having, by his performances, brought himself to the first position in
the betting market for the ensuing Derby, at Epsom, became the point
and object to which the gambling tailor's designs were directed ; and
he and his clique, consisting of his son-in-law, and others connected
with him in his gaming establishment, in St. James's Street, accord-
ingly set to work to make heavy books against the horse. The result
of the race is well known. Coronation won, and snip and his confede-
rates lost a heavy amount, the payment of which they very respect-
fully declined, under the most lame and impotent excuse that large
bets were outstanding, due to them on former events.
134
THE TWO BOUQUETS.
BY ARTHUR DUDLEY.
CHAPTER I.
" This broken tale was all we knew
Of her he loved."
BYRON.
THE mists of evening were falling, and I was about pursuing my
course homeward, when the flutter of a white dress before me attracted
my attention. Visions of other years came across me, and I remember-
ed a time when, on this very spot, and at this very season of the year,
the simplest fold of a white dress would have made my heart beat and
given me an onward impetus quite irresistible. I remembered the
anxious glances, the turning back of the little head, the blush at meet-
ing, the unmeaning, unnecessary gaiety put on for those around, and
the few low soft words uttered for my ear alone. Then followed re-
miniscences of fine sunny days, and parties de campagne ; excursions,
the recollection of which rendered every hill, field, and wood about
Baden, objects of melancholy reflection to my mind. Every circum-
stance connected with that one, fond, early affection, rushed at once
upon my memory : crowded ball-rooms, jewels reflecting the lustre of a
thousand lamps, the scent of the orange blossoms, the sound of music,
the waltz the soul-inspiring, too delicious, too dangerous waltz all
combined to recall to me the image of her whom I had " loved not
wisely but too well." Alas ! she has long been another's, and regrets
are all that now remain to me, coupled with a facility of recurrence to
the past, which I fear my reader will think too readily awakened
But, to return to the white dress which thus unexpectedly threw me
into a reverie. As I passed my Dame Blanche, I involuntarily turned
round, from I scarcely know what motive, and certainly in so doing re-
cognised a face I had seen before, although I could trace no recollection
Further, or make it more specific. As she walked on behind me,
I overheard her conversing with her companion (an elderly person, who
kept very close to her) in German. Understanding the language from
my earliest years, I discovered from one or two expressions that she
was not a native ; though her accent and pure pronunciation, might
have easily misled even a born child of the Danube or the Rhine. I
was struck by the earnestness of tone in which she repeated over and
over the words :
" 1 know he will come * * * He must have mine still, for he pro-
mised that as long as I kept his he would never lose mine and look,
there is mine !"
Wondering much what could be the meaning of the words " mine "
and " his " so often repeated, I again turned round, and saw her, hold-
ing in her hand a small, withered, or more properly speaking, dried
bouquet of flowers, which appeared to be, in her estimation, a treasure
of no mean worth, for, after fixing on it a look of profound and unmis-
takeable affection, she raised it to her lips, exclaiming with an expres-
sion of the purest delight, " Oh ! yes, I knew it well he will never
lose that!"
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 135
I stared in absolute astonishment. She caught my eye, and ad-
vancing towards me, at once addressed me; and with singular wildness
in her manner :
" Do you not think so, too ? " asked she. " I wish you would tell
her that she won't believe it," added the poor creature, who from her
whole appearance, I soon discovered was totally bereft of reason, " she
won't believe it, because he displeases her, but I am quite sure, so are
you too are you not ? "
I scarcely knew what to answer, when the elderly lady, taking her
young and interesting companion by the arm, interrupted her, and, re-
marking upon the chilliness of the evening, tried to persuade her to re-
turn home. The poor girl stared wildly, and I beheld a pair of eyes
that might have been likened to stars, had they not far more resembled
ignes-fatui, yet how beautiful they were ! She suddenly replaced the
faded flowers in her bosom, and shaking off from her arm the hand of
her friend,
" I will not sing to-night," rejoined she sharply: "the Court may
wait ' 3 I cannot sing ; " then turning again to me, " they want me to
sing the Norma" said she in a plaintive tone of voice, " but I cannot
do so to-night. I cannot remember the words ' qual cor tradisti, qual
cor perdesti ; ' " and she sang in a murmur the few notes set to these
words. ' ' I cannot sing them in German, I cannot remember them ; I
will not sing to-night." With these words, her head sank upon her
breast, and clasping her hands upon her heart, she followed her com-
panion ; but in a moment she again returned, and looking at me with a
smile, said, as she pressed my hand, " I like you, because you don't
want me to sing to-night, and then," added she in a whisper, "you
never told me he would not come."
When I again moved onwards her white dress was far before me ; I
was horror-struck, for I had indeed recognised her. The last time I
had beheld her it was as " the admired of all admirers," the object of
the enraptured, wondering gaze of thousands ; young, beautiful, full of
genius and inspiration and now ! * * * I went home, read Wilhelm
Meister's Lehr Jahre, and thought poor Mariane's fate was to be
envied.
It was a May morning ; the birds were singing from every bush and
tree ; the scents of the opening flowers diffused themselves prodigally
around ; the air was light and mild, with enough of freshness to nerve
the indolent, and enough of balminess to still the unquiet. Oh the
beauty of that garden ! the lilacs and laburnums, the ever-blowing
roses, the pear and apple blossoms, the soft, bright, green grass, the sky
of faint blue above, and the light, white clouds, drifting with every
breeze across the face of heaven, as though the universe were frozen
into a species of dignified composure during the winter, braced up and
laced " cabin'd, cribbed, confined," and that spring were nature's first
burst of heartfelt sentiment !
Groups of youthful beings were playing and sporting through
the garden ; young creatures, whose ideas of happiness were comprised
in a whole day's holiday, and whose notions of crime consisted in a torn
garment or a wetted foot. But there was one amongst them ! * * *
She might perhaps have seen nine summers a very Titania ! with the
figure of a sylph, but prouder ; the eyes of a gazelle, but wilder ; and
the grace of a greyhound, but more restless. The smallest hands, the
136 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
tiniest feet, the reddest lips, the silkiest hair, the loudest laugh, the
quickest frown, the sharpest tongue, and the air of a princess ! She
evidently either was by right, or would be by usurpation, the queen of
the fete. I saw her "in the midst of her companions, dancing with
them in a ring, and then giving them the signal to follow her in
a mimic chase ; they prepared to start, when a large, copper-coloured
viper was suddenly perceived by one of them darting through the
grass ; shrieks and cries rung through the air, and the whole group was
scattered. I sprang forward to save my little fairy, but she escaped
my hold, and on looking for her, I saw the wild puss swinging on the
branch of a cherry tree (whither she had climbed for refuge) tossing
back her wayward* head, and laughing heartily at the alarm of her com-
panions, and at her own singular position. In a second she deserted her
aerial seat, and with one leap, reached the ground ; but she sank down
and a slight cry of pain escaped her. I raised her up, she was pale,
and pointed to her foot ; I examined it, and found a large nail (on
which she had alighted) driven into it. She did not complain, but
compressed her lips whilst I drew it out. The wound did not at the
moment bleed much, and she enjoined silence on me, declaring she felt
no pain. I attempted to lead her steps, but she, almost indignantly,
repulsed me, and infusing no small portion of disdain into her voice and
smile, as she said, " Look, and see whether I need your help ! " she,
with one bound, light as a roe, cleared a basket-bed of flowers and was
out of my sight in a moment.
In a few hours I saw her again. She looked prouder and more
regal than ever ; her cheeks burnt with the colour of the Tuscan rose,
her eyes flashed with childish pleasure, her dark hair hung all uncurled
about her face. She looked at me and laughed. She had just gained
all the prizes from her young companions in dancing, leaping, climbing,
riding, and running. " What !" thought I, " ambition and a sense of
triumph in so young, so fragile a creature ! " I spoke to her, the others
were gone and we stood alone ; I asked her if her wound gave her no
pain. She looked at me prouder than ever, and taking off a shoe of
which at her age Cinderella might have been vain, she pointed to her
foot. I started, for it was swollen, and the sole of the shoe saturated
with blood. Perceiving that I was most likely about to admonish her
on her giddiness, she held her tiny finger to her lips.
" Hush ! " said she, " to-day is my birthday, and / will have no suf-
fering; besides," added she, drawing close up to me, "did you not hear
Colonel - say the other day that girls could not bear pain ?"
I let go my hold, and she disappeared, but I could not forbear saying
to myself, " That child is either the vainest of her sex, or has the ele-
ments of a Portia in her ; she will either be very great or very unhappy;
perhaps both. < Such is the lot of the fair upon earth,' " saith Schiller.
CHAPTER II.
"Nous disons des choses innocentes et nous rougissons tons deux. La petite fille
est devenue jeune fille." VICTOR HUGO.
*
UNDER the lime-trees of the Schloss-Platz of C - , in the middle
of the sweet-scented, sunny month of June, was assembled a bevy of
young girls, under the guidance of some half-dozen dames of maturer
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 137
age and demurer bearing ; just such a group as \vould have delighted
the eye of a Don Juan, or afforded matter for reflection to a Rousseau ;
a very parterre of nature's choicest flowers. There were laughing blue
eyes and soft flaxen locks, with the complexion of a hawthorn-bud ;
mild, waterlily, moonlight faces, with a veil of night-like hair shadow-
ing eyes of jet ; pride, softness, grace, mirth, every variety of expres-
sion was there (even those that were not good) ; but all was lovely be-
cause all was young. The toilettes, too ! the blue, pink, and green
ribbons waving at each turn of the pretty heads ; the light draperies of
their dresses : and then the whole scene ! the orange-trees ; the long-
necked swans; the sparkling fountains; the joyful hum of bees and
human beings ; the inspiring sound of the military music ; the blue
sky ; the warm air ; the shining sun ! Oh ! it was a dream of enchant-
ment, like the first dreams of Fancy who, waking, turns to Hope.
Our group had not strolled far, when a beautiful female figure
possed, magnificently dressed, and leaning on the arm of a fine-looking
rather elderly man. She was nodded at, and warmly greeted by the
whole bevy.
" Who is that ? " asked one of the fair ones, evidently a foreigner by
her accent.
" That is Madame de ," answered a lively, coquettish-looking
little person, " who prides herself most absurdly on having a pretty
hand, as if," added she, kicking a pebble before her, and thereby show-
ing the prettiest foot imaginable " as if any one minded what hands
were like I "
" For my part," said a handsome, supercilious brunette, whose father
had been raised by Napoleon from the rank of a common soldier to that
of a Count and a General, " I know nothing of Madame de , she
is not of good family so we never visited her."
" She is a horrid creature, and married her husband only for his
money ; I quite hate her. 1 could never marry a man I did not love,
for his money," remarked a young lady with upturned eyes and a sen-
timental air, who had failed some six months before in the plans she
made to catch a millionaire of sixty, with one eye.
A sigh escaped the fair foreigner who had asked the" question ; her
lips opened as though about to speak, when the tramp of a horse's
hoof and the clank of a sabre against a spur, cut short the enumeration
of poor Madame de 's faults and misfortunes. The rider sprang
into the midst of the little group with his bridle rein on his arm. He
was at the side of one of the fair loiterers in a second, and she who had
sighed, now looked down, and the colour rose crimson to her very
temples. The intruder, attired in a simple undress uniform, was a
young man somewhere about the age of two or three-and-twenty at
that privileged period of life when, whatever he may do which is right
is foolishly applauded, and whatever he does which is wrong is sure to
be forgiven with the same injustice; when he expects to find more
heart in others and has less of it himself than at any other time of his
existence ; when he prizes a virtue, not for its own sake, but in pro-
portion only to the excess to which it happens to be carried ; when ge-
nerosity becomes prodigality that it may not be denominated avarice ;
courage, senseless foolhardiness, under pain of being taxed as coward-
ice ; love, a madness hurling its very object to destruction, in order to
escape the charge of coldness. That dangerous age at which the faults
of the boy have not yet subsided, and the virtues of the man not yet
VOL. XIX. k
138 THE TWO BOUQUETS,
commenced. But, a splendidly turned head, eyes that beamed with
apparent tenderness and truth, and a figure whose every motion com-
bined dignity and ease, have too often obtained pardon for worse faults
than those above-mentioned ; and, whatever may be the crimes of that
particular period of life, falsehood, ingratitude, and cold calculation are
scarcely ever to be reckoned amongst them, unless indeed in disposi-
tions instinctively depraved.
" I hold in my hand the excuse for my sudden appearance," said the
new comer, displaying a bow of azure-coloured ribbon which had been
tastefully twisted by some Parisian modiste into a shape very much re-
sembling that of a large butterfly ; " it has most unpardonably flown
away from some fair flower here to go and taste the sweets of the
orange-blossoms around." After attentively surveying a bouquet of
jasmine and moss-roses that adorned the hat of the young foreigner by
whose side he stood, " I think," added he, " that I have discovered the
home of the capricious flutterer ; may I not be permitted to bring the
wanderer back, and fix him so that he shall not get loose and go roam-
ing about again ? "
"Pray do you mean, by giving that butterfly to Mademoiselle,
to make us all imagine that you are emblematically laying yourself at
her feet ? " said a clever- looking girl, with black eyes, a wicked mouth,
and a dimpled chin.
" Many a moth, pretty lady, flies round the light a long while,
and at last gets his wings burnt," replied the object of this pert attack,
who had all the while been busily employed in fastening his emblem
(as his fair tormentor had been pleased to designate it) in the hat of
the young lady at whose side he stood. Very slowly and very awk-
wardly he did it, but at length, after pulling it about at least a dozen
times in order to make it sit better, and pricking his fingers by way of
proving his wish to be remarkably quick, he looked at his work with
considerable self-complacency, and pronounced it to be perfect.
The person to whom these little attentions were addressed, was a
young girl who might be about seventeen ; exquisitely dressed, and in
every point showing birth, high breeding, and tasteful elegance. Her
figure would have served as a model for that of a Hebe or an Aurora.
As for her face, it was one of those a statuary would denominate plain,
a portrait-painter take a bad likeness of, and a poet call divine. The
features were nothing ; the countenance was everything. It was the
soul, the variety, the genius, ihejancifulness (if the expression may be
allowed) of the whole, that made it so irresistible. Her complexion
was, perhaps, not so brilliantly red and white as that of many of her
companions, but then, as she spoke, the colour went and came so
quickly ; sometimes subsiding into the pallidness of a marble statue, at
others, rising into the. flush of a carnation : every change was so per-
fectly in harmony with what she said, that the very blood in her cheeks
and brow seemed impregnated with thought. Her mouth was neither
so small nor so finely chiselled as that of some others, but when
she smiled it was like the breaking of the morning-sun upon the ripples
of the ocean tipping and gilding each wave with its light. Her eyes,
too, were incomparably beautiful. Few could tell their colour, but all
felt their power; they were too full of fire for blue eyes, and too full
of softness for black ones ; but their effect was such that it left no time
to examine of what particular or precise shade they might be. She
had, during the conversation we have referred to, appeared somewhat
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 139
embarrassed, which embarrassment she principally showed by looking
very unnecessarily angry, and assuring the " gallant, gay Lothario " at
her side that he need not trouble himself to adjust her head-gear,
a circumstance of which, notwithstanding her repeated asseverations,
he did not seem likely to be easily convinced. At length, however, a
few words were exchanged between them in a tone so low as to have
rendered it impossible to discern one syllable from another (although
some ears will pretend to have caught the words " ball to-night," and
" cotillon") during which time he discovered that her bracelet wanted
clasping. Assuredly the most obstinate spring in the world could
scarcely have resisted the forcible pressure of his fingers, although
some who were very near, say that the pressure was applied to the
hand instead of the bracelet she, however, blushed and looked down,
He uttered a hurried adieu to the whole party, vaulted on his horse, and,
after performing divers evolutions, to all appearance frightfully dan-
gerous, dashed at full gallop out of sight. All eyes were on him. On
her cheek the blush was gone, but her eyelids were not raised ; she still
looked down, but whether at the bracelet or the thousand little pebbles
at her feet, was not known.
" How exquisitely the Baron de rides !" exclaimed the fair one
who had previously jested upon his butterfly qualifications, " when-
ever I see him on that black horse of his he always appears to me a
model for a young Alexander ; only I am afraid, for my parallel's sake,
that Bucephalus has been, from those days down to these, decided to be
milk-white."
" I never much noticed his riding," rejoined the haughty parvenue
brunette ; " but for himself, I believe him to be the most complete
roue in existence ; and," pursued she, with a malicious glance at the
newly-reinstated ribbon on her companion's hat, " I would strongly
advise all those who are acquainted with him, never to believe one
word he may say, for his heart's delight is only to deceive."
" How long have you found that out ?" asked a little witch, who
seemed hardly able to suppress a loud laugh.
A glance of affected disdain and real embarrassment was the only
answer.
" For my part," replied she who had likened him to Alexander, and
who (except for her eyes and mouth) was the least handsome and the
most good-natured looking of the whole set, " I never could find the
same faults in him that others pretend to have discovered. I like to
banter him a little, but we are otherwise the best friends in the
world ; and I believe for no other reason than that he never once
took it into his head to fall in love with me."
" I should think not," whispered she of the disdainfully curled lip ;
(t she never was handsome enough for him."
" As to what regards his dissipation or inconstancy," pursued his
good-natured defender, ' ' I do not remember its having yet been proved
that the fault was entirely his; or whether" (and she cast a glance at
the proud brunette) " he has not pretty generally found that the object
of his attentions was unworthy a lasting attachment. Of one thing I
am convinced," continued she, her eyes this time taking another di-
rection, fl that where a man finds that he is really loved with pure and
ardent devotion, and not a semblance of it put on by coquetry ; where
he sees that he is himself believed and confided in ; and, above all,
where he cannot discover the wish to play with his feelings, or to dis-
i. 2
140 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
guise the extent to which he is loved, in short, I must be much mis-
taken, or where a man like the Baron de meets with truth in tl
object of his affections he will not deceive. She^who feels in her own
heart the right to possess his, need have no fear."
During all this discussion the pretty stranger had never once raised
her eyes. As the few last words met her ear, she suddenly looked up
at the speaker, and in a hurried tone, and with a cheek as pale as a
magnolia flower,
" Are you quite sure of that ?" said she.
The words had hardly passed her lips when her whole face was suf-
fused with one deep burning tint of crimson. The answer was not
heard ; but as the group proceeded homewards, the interesting fo-
reigner was leaning on the arm of her whose want of beauty had pre-
served her from deception and regret.
The most perfectly organized orchestra imaginable was just in the
middle of its execution of Strauss's immortal " Sehnsuchts Walzer"
Hundreds of the light of heart, and still lighter of foot, were gliding
round in mazy rings to the sound of its delicious melody.
" The most superb pair in the room," said the Countess de R to
her neighbour, " are Mademoiselle and the Baron de . Look
at them as they pass. They seem made to be partners ; it always ap-
pears to me a pity when they dance with any one else but each other.
He never waltzes with any one as he does with her ; and she never
looks so well as when she waltzes with him."
The pair in question passed ; and certainly nothing could be more
perfectly true than the Countess's remark. They were made for one
another. He might have stood for an Apollo ; she was something be-
tween a Minerva and a Mignon. In the pauses of the dance, her
height, and the graceful symmetry of her figure, gave her such digni-
ty, in her demeanour was such modest consciousness of worth, about
her face such soft intelligence and such sweet wisdom, that she want-
ed but the casque upon her classically turned head, to have given one
every idea of Jove's " blue-eyed daughter ;" but before the eye could
rest one second on the picture, all was changed. The quickness of her
motions, the waving of her dark, satin-like hair, the readiness of her
ringing laugh, the lightning-like changes of her colour, and a certain
wildness in her large eyes, left nothing wanting to GSthe's portrait of
the passionate and unhappy Italian. Her dancing, too, was something
very remarkable. Light as a piece of thistle-down on a summer's day,
she seemed to float upon the air, and flew around the room with the
playfulness of a Will-o'-the-wisp. You heard her not ; her step fell
soft as the pattering of April rain ; you scarcely saw her, so quick, so
wild, and yet so sure, were her serpentine movements through the
crowding dancers. From time to time the light draperies of her dress
were wafted so as to discover the little, sharp, fine ankle, that looked
as though it would snap with a touch of one's finger and thumb, and
her tiny feet, that skipped and twisted themselves" round and round as
fast, as glittering, and as capriciously entangling and extricating them-
selves, as the needles of a German lady busy over her knitting.
" 'S'is a' prdchtigs madel !" exclaimed an old Viennese, rubbing his
hands for very delight.
Her companion looked a living personification of Pride and Poetry.
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 141
In his aristocracy there was romance ; in his romance, aristocracy. The
smallness and shape of his foot and hand, and the fine chiselling of the
slightly aquiline nose, showed plainly who, while the expression of the
eyes, the openness of the brow, and the curve of the lips, marked what
he was. His hair, of the softest golden brown, like autumn foliage
tinted by the evening sun, seemed to allow every passing wind to be
its coiffeur, so little of art and so much of nature did it display in the
many curls and waves with which it clustered round a forehead white
as the Parian stone. The long, carefully-trimmed moustache, which
fringed the upper lip, took off from it a slight expression of haughti-
ness that seemed to characterize his whole person, and instead of add-
ing fierceness, as in many instances, in this, only served partially to
conceal the vivid redness of the lips, as the moss does round the leaves
of an opening moss-rose. He was, altogether, one of those who are
very properly termed dangerous, and who really are so, to hearts older
too than those of seventeen, uniting qualities and opposites few of
the other sex can resist, or even try to combat against: the daring
courage of a Cceur-de-lion, but so much discretion that prudence was
never alarmed ; the softest, most persuasive tenderness, without, at the
same time, ever allowing vanity to lull itself into perfect security, or
giving conquest a hope of being able to tyrannise. His manners to the
many were those of a man conscious, but wishing others to suppose
him ignorant, of his own merits ; to the one, they were those of a per-
son who is devoted, but who in his very devotion is proud of the power
of being so devoted, and enthusiastic because that devotion is to a
being he believes to be his. Her manners to him were those of a
creature living in another, seeing nothing but him, and feeling too
much ever to think. He evidently loved her, but did not lose sight
of himself; she loved him, and ceased to remember her own indi-
viduality.
In that ball-room was the talisman that the unthinking and the un-
happy equally require and seek excitement. Under the high marble
columns wandered pair after pair, and group after group of the bril-
liant and the beautiful. The light of the brightest lamps and the
brightest eyes was reflected in innumerable mirrors cased in gilded
frames ; there were the perfumes of the choicest exotics, the glitter of
the richest jewels, the sound of animating music, and sweet voices
murmuring sweet words ; the impatience, the anxiety, 'the beating
hearts, the trembling hands, the restless glances, the hopes, the fears,
the wishes, the jealousies, the quarrels, the reconciliations, in short,
the mixture of all the feelings which make a ball-room the hothouse for
the pleasures and passions of so many young heads, from fifteen to
five-and- twenty.
It was late, and the cotillon had just commenced, when at the end
of the first tour de valse a bouquet of choice and exquisitely-scented
flowers, that had all the evening adorned the bosom of the Mignon-like
valseuse dropped from its nest on the ground. Quick as thought, and
before others had seen them fall, she raised them up, and, turning
round to a rather good-looking, but heavily-built dragoon-officer, who
had all the night watched her graceful evolutions with singularly en-
vious glances,
" There/' cried she, " now they are faded you may have them."
His hand was anxiously stretched forth to receive them ; but he was
not destined to obtain the proffered treasure. He looked disconcerted ;
142 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
she looked surprised when on turning round to her partner she per-
eeived her flowers disappearing beneath his uniform.
" They are mine !" exclaimed he, with an air of triumph ; " and
mine they shall for ever remain !"
" Rememher at the same time," said his partner very wickedly,
" that they were not given, but stolen"
The remark seemed to have told. He was silent, if not serious.
Again they waltzed, and she was more playful, more brilliant, more
enchanting than ever. The last tone of music was hushed ; the dance
was done ; the crowd moved from the saloon, and the handsome pair
were arm-in-arm. The steps were descended, the vestibule was
crossed, the carriage-door was open, a moment and "
" Stay but one second," said he, and they were the first words he
had uttered since her somewhat sharp reply to him in the dance ;
" here are your flowers stolen, I will not keep them ; if you will not
give them to me, take them back." * * * The door closed with a
harsh, grating sound, and the carriage rolled on. * * * The sound of
the carriage- wheels was lost in the distance, but he still stood there,
and in his right hand he held, pressed to his lips, the bouquet !
******
" You are surely going to-night to the Princesse de 's ?" said the
handsome, though somewhat faded Madame de , as she entered
the drawing-room, dressed for conquest. " Mademoiselle - will be
there ; and has, I believe, promised to sing. I hear her voice is won-
derful, and her style quite enchanting."
" You know I care little for music," answered the person addressed ;
" and if I go to-night it will be solely for the pleasure of being with
you, my dear aunt. Assuredly," continued he, bending down to kiss
her hand, " for those who see you at this moment the flighty oddities
of such a child as Mademoiselle can have no charms."
" Flatterer !" said the lady, gently hitting his cheek with her fan.
" Apropos" rejoined the insinuator ; " I saw Count P 's horse
to-day."
" You surely do not mean the one that broke his servant's leg, and
threw the Count himself at the review the other day !" exclaimed the
aunt.
" Indeed I do," replied the nephew. " It would be the very thing
for you !"
" Put on my shawl, mauvais sujet.f" said she to change the conver-
sation.
The shawl was put on, and some rouge taken off by a most enter-
prizing kiss, which was at the same time imprinted on her cheek.
The lady frowned.
" Forgive me, dearest aunt/" interceded the graceless youth, (c a
saint could not have helped it !'
He handed her to her carriage.
*' And, about the Count's horse ?" insinuated he.
" Laissez moifaire; cela s'arrangcra" said the faded beauty, as she
gave him her hand and a seat beside her. * * * On a sofa at the upper
end of a room hung with crimson silk, and carpeted with leopard
skins, sat the giver of the soiree, the Princess de , one of those
old women who imagine there is a virtue in making the world suppose
they never were young. Around her were her satellites and favour-
ites: the oldest^ ugliest, and mobt hypocritically demure of the female,
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 143
and the youngest, handsomest, and most graceless of the male sex. At
the opposite end of the apartment, as might be inferred, were grouped
the respectable elders of the masculine gender the Joves and King
Davids ; nor were their Danaes and Bathshebas wanting.
She too was there the houri of the hyacinthine hair and Andalu-
sian feet ; fluttering about from group to group, caressing some, tor-
menting others, laughing at many, speaking sense to a few, amusing
all, and thinking of but one. She yielded at length to the entreaties
of those around her, and the next moment saw her seated at the piano-
forte. Her white, rosy-tipped fingers flew over the keys with a neat-
ness, a rapidity, a force, and an ease that seemed as though they held
in themselves the music they produced. All was silence ; she sang,
and all were breathless.
*' For never had it then been given
To lips of any mortal woman
To utter notes so fresh from heaven !"
There was a thought in every tone, a feeling in every inflexion ; it
was more than music alone, it was the very essential soul of music. It
was not the singer's power of executing every difficulty a composer
could write, but her art of bringing forth in melody every inspiration
a poet could conceive, that rendered her singing so irresistible so en-
thralling. It was thus the syrens must have sung ; but not thus a
syren. could have looked. If she were fascinating before, how was each
charm doubled now ! It was the pencil-drawing suddenly coloured by
the brush of a Titian ; the recital in prose magically transformed into
glowing verse ; the bursting of the bud into the blossom, in short,
the perfection of every thing the promise of which was before scarcely
guessed ! Those who had seen her hitherto thought that she had been
in a species of trance, and was now first awakened. Her countenance
was a mirror in which every feeling she described, every passion she
sang, each change and each thought was instantaneously, strongly, and
clearly reflected. She was a proof of the inseparable connection of the
sister arts, Music, Painting, and Poetry. Her music was a painting
to the ear. Around her was such a breathing atmosphere of music,
she was so harmony-exhaling, that the eye in gazing on her seemed to
hear. Every opposite appeared united in her while she sang : passion
with purity, profundity with playfulness, grandeur with gaiety, depth
with delicacy, sublimity with softness, and wildness with simplicity:
" The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face,
The heart, whose softness harmonized the whole."
There was one who appreciated her fully ; for a voice exclaimed,-
" Had Sappho been thus, the Leucadian leap had never been cele-
brated !"
" I thought you did not care for music ?" said the lady near him in
rather a sharp tone.
Forgive me, dear aunt," replied he ; "I never knew till now what
music was."
The sweet songstress had for the last hour been delighting her in-
satiable auditors with a delicious collection of French romances, Italian
canzonets, Spanish boleros, German licds, and Scotch ballads (all of
which languages appeared perfectly easy and familiar to her), when
144 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
some one earnestly entreated to hear the final duet from Bellini's
" Norma :" " Qtial cor tradisti."
" Who will sing it with me ?" asked the lovely muse, looking as
though she expected the answer.
" I will, if you will accept me for your second," replied a voice from
behind her.
She looked up, but not at him. They proceeded to the instrument,
and she turned over the music so hurriedly that she did not find the
wished-for morgeau. Some one else was luckier; and the so-well-
matched couple stood up side by side, the admiration and envy of all ;
for where her sex admired him they hated her ; and every man in the
room, from the age of eighteen to eighty, in raptures with her, wished
for nothing better than a quarrel with the happy Baron de .
How full of plaintive, tender reproach were the tones of her voice as
she sang the first words :
" Qual cor tradisti qual cor perdesti,
Quest 'ora orrenda ti manifest! !"
Beaming with love, resignation, and the confidence of inspiration were
her looks, as she continued :
" Un Nume, un fato, da te pin forte,
Ci vuol uniti, in vita in morie."
and it was with a tone and an air of triumph (but the triumph of de-
voted affection) that she ended by
" Sul rogo istesso che mi divora,
Sotterra ancora sarai con me."
Envy, jealousy, all was forgotten in the enthusiastic acclamations of
delight which burst from every soul in the room ; and when the duet
was finished, the inspired singer (who looked at this moment the very
beau ideal of a Norma) was surrounded by all who could approach her,
and almost deafened by the adulations of all who could make them-
selves heard.
" You sang with such fire and truth," said an old diplomatist, with
a coat covered with orders, and a face like a lemon squeezed dry, " that
one should almost be tempted to suppose you sang from experience ;
and, were it not impossible that such a Norma should be deserted,
even were Venus herself the Adalgisa, I should think you meant to
convey, through the Baron de , a gentle reprimand to some worth-
less Pollione."
In the solitude of the crowd they spoke together : Let us never
sing that duet again," said her honeyed voice in its lowest tone ; " that
old raven of a man has made me hate it."
" Never fear, Liebchen," answered he. " On the contrary, I will
repeat over and over again,
c< L'estremo accento sara cVio famo."
He pressed her hand their eyes met : " For what was that sigh ?"
said he tenderly.
" I have a sad foreboding/' was the answer.
" That will never be realized," rejoined he smiling.
Her cheek was very pale, her dark eye very wild, and she shuddered
as she mournfully uttered,
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 145
" My forebodings always are !"
******
The eleventh hour had struck. A low, rich, deep- toned voice mur-
mured, to the air of a well-known romance,
" Sous la blanche Colonnade
En tends tu la Sr6nade
Qui te chante mes douleurs ?"
The window opened, and in the midst of the orange-trees, tuberoses,
and oleanders with which the balcony was filled, appeared a female
figure robed in white. As she stepped forth into the moonlight, she
looked like the spirit of purity wafted down from above to sanctify the
ardour of passion. By her careful stillness, it was natural to suppose
that she wished to enjoy undisturbed the sound of music by night.
The voice continued, as she appeared :
" Un regard, 6 Chatelaine,
Pour attendre jusqu'au jour."
But, notwithstanding all her precautions, it would seem that her pre-
sence was acknowledged. Probably the singer had no wish to be over-
heard ; for he suddenly ceased, arid no tone of music was heard after.
In a few seconds, partly concealed by a thickly-overhanging Bengal
rose, there stood two beings in that balcony. The moon shone in all
her splendour, silvering every object around ; the deep blue sky above,
the stillness of the earth below, all was in harmony. It was a scene,
it was an hour, when two hearts that are drawn together must beat in
unison.
They sat long side by side : her head was on his shoulder, his arm
was round her waist, their hands were clasped in each other. They
did not speak much ; but the few words he uttered were so whispered
as quite unavoidably to force his lips upon her cheek. They needed
no words ; to them, and such as them, there is a voice in nature, the
pale moonlight, the twinkling stars, the scents of the flowers, the
breath of the night-breeze, the stillness of the scene, the distant bell
of the cathedral, all speak to them, and interpret what they only
feel. "
He held in his hand two small bouquets ; one was faded, the other
but just plucked. He had that moment gathered, with the dews of
the night yet upon them, the pearly orange-flower, the opening rose-
bud, the delicate jasmine, the spicy carnation, and the sacred myrtle,
to bind together into what the old English bards quaintly termed a
" posy," which he placed in the bosom of the fair seraph by his side.
" Look, dearest," said he, " have I not made you a dainty bouquet,
in return for the one you gave me at the ball ?"
She took the flowers in her hand, and smiling, " How long will you
keep yours ?" said she.
"As long as you will promise me to keep mine," was the reply.
" Then sayjbr ever !" And she looked at him with all the confi-
dence, all the innocence, all the truth of first love and seventeen.
Vows were exchanged. He swore, and he did not deceive her, for
he believed what he swore. (How many deceive others, in deceiving
themselves !)
" Take care," said she ; " there is an ancient superstition recording
that vows made beneath the moon's light are always broken."
146 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
As midnight struck she stood alone in the moonlight ; receding steps
were heard in the distance. She leant over the balcony, and, with an
upturned look of hope and confidence, pressed the flowers to her bosom.
Her hand was on the window, she turned round once more, the
rays of the moon illumined her placid face and graceful form, and, as
she vanished, her lips parted, and she repeated, " For ever ! "
CHAPTER III.
tl Chi rende alia meschina
La sua felicita."
SILVIO PELLICO.
I HAD arrived in the middle of a fine October night at-V , and
was, the next morning, just about disposing myself for coffee and com-
fort on my sofa, in dressing-gown and slippers, when the clatter of
horses, the sound of loud voices, arid the cracking of whips, mixed with
the not unfrequent repetitions of ' ' Dummer Esel ! " and " Jesus Ma-
ria !" roused me from my proposed tranquillity, and sent me to my win-
dow to learn the cause of the disturbance. Opposite to my apartment
was a large, handsomely-built house, with its blinds closed and its
gate opened. Round the latter were assembled a group of eques-
trians, consisting of three ladies and seven or eight gentlemen, whose
warlike profession might be guessed from their uniforms. The party
were apparently waiting for some addition to their numbers, when
from under the arch of the porte cochere advanced two grooms in hand-
some liveries, leading by the bridle a beautiful cream-coloured Arabian
horse. He bore a side-saddle on his back, and in the corners of the
saddle-cloth, instead of a cypher or a crest, were embroidered in green
and gold two rose-buds. It was an animal, to all appearance, formed
to bear the gentle burthen of a lady's weight ; but the tightness with
which the curb-chain was drawn plainly showed that the fire of the
desert-blood was not extinct in its offspring. In another second the
ladies were nodding their heads, the gentlemen lifting their hats, and
some of them springing from their steeds, to hasten towards a young
and interesting dame, who, from her dress, seemed destined to mount
the handsome Arabian,
A long habit of dark green cloth, whose rich folds were gracefully
gathered up in her left hand, showed to the greatest advantage the
outlines of a remarkably symmetrical and dignified figure. Rather on
one side of her head she wore a green and gold embroidered cap, some-
what resembling that of an Hungarian Uhlan, whilst on the other fell
down a profusion of rich, heavily-waving, dark hair. Her falling collar
was open, and discovered a throat as white and as round as the throats
of the daughters of Ossian, when he compares them to the " marble
pillars in the halls of Fingal." A tiny mother-of-pearl-handled riding-
whip, mounted in gold, which she held in her right hand, completed
her handsome, though somewhat singular costume.
Warm greetings were exchanged; some of the cavaliers offered their
services to assist her in mounting ; but she smilingly shook her head,
and proceeded alone towards her horse. One little gloved hand was
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 147
on the bridle-rein, the other on the pommel, and in a second she was
in the saddle. Hardly had the spirited animal felt the weight of his
rider than he threw back his beautiful head, his nostrils expanded, his
mane curled, he champed the bit, he pawed the ground, and a long
loud neigh welcomed his courageous mistress. Some of the other
horses started, the gentlemen smiled, the ladies trembled, the lackeys
prepared to help, when one, who had advanced too near, was very
quietly laid flat on the pavement by the fore hoof of the Arabian, who,
seeming to glory in the confusion his voice had made, reared on his
hind legs, and stood nearly upright, lashing his tail, erecting his mane,
tossing his head, and neighing with all his might. The alarm was
now general for the safety of the rider, who very coolly laying her
hand on the courser's arching neck,
" Quiet, Saladin," said she, (c still, sir, this moment down I"
The creature became tranquil as a lamb, order was restored, and the
party moved onwards. All I heard further was a long loud laugh,
which came ringing through the morning air, and all I saw was the
head of the young Amazon thrown back, her dark hair streaming in
the wind, and a set of brilliant white teeth.
u Donner welter !" exclaimed a stony-faced, crooked-legged, black-
gaitered Austrian sentinel, who had seen the whole, and who now
opened his unmeaning mouth and eyes, and twisted his huge red
moustaches up to his cheek-bones.
The door opened. I left the window. A waiter entered.
" Who was that lady who rides so well ?" asked I.
" That is Mademoiselle /' replied the man.
" Is that her house ?" said I, on hearing the name of the most cele-
brated prima donna of the day.
" Yes, sir," answered he. " She is making millions. But that is
only her name since she came on the stage. Her real one is ."
" My God !" exclaimed I, starting at hearing the well-known name,
" can it be possible ?"
The man left the room, and I remained with my reflections. I had
not seen her since her early childhood ; but I was sure she would re-
member my name, though most likely not me. My resolution was
taken. I stayed at home, watched the return of the riders, and, as the
clocks were striking two, seized my hat and cane, and presented my-
self at her door.
# * # # # *
The room into which I was ushered was large, and furnished in
splendour. Preparations were evidently making for a banquet ; and,
passing no doubt for an invited guest, I was introduced into an apart-
ment already numerously tenanted by persons who to me were all
perfect strangers. I had scarcely more than time to reflect upon the
awkwardness of my position as an intruder, however involuntary, when
the sound of a female voice struck my ear exclaiming,
" Where is he ? where is he ? I must see him directly !"
I turned round, and through a rustling curtain of thick orange-
coloured silk at the farther end of the room burst a female figure,
holding my card in her hand. She paused for a second where she
stood, and then with one bound she was at my side, and seizing both
my hands,
"Is it really you?" exclaimed she. "Oh! a thousand thousand
times welcome !"
148 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
I looked at her earnestly, and at last could not help ejaculating,
however strange the compliment might seem,
" By heaven ! you are just what you were as a child !"
" What," said she laughing, " as wild ?"
" No," replied I, " but as warm-hearted."
After having presented me as an old friend of her family to all her
guests, ^generals and princes, countesses and ambassadresses, we
passed into the dining-room, and placed ourselves at table, where she
insisted on my occupying the seat by her side. It was a delightful
repast, at which every intellectual as well as every more material ap-
petite was ministered to with the most refined delicacy, and where the
sparkles of the flowing wine itself were less brilliant than the flashes
of convivial wit. Her conversation (kept up in three or four different
languages) was sparkling to a degree, and profound when she felt she
was understood. Colouring every topic, gilding every theme with her
imaginative fancy, she pursued her way through the mazes of every
subject of discussion; but that which charmed even more than her
versatility and genius, was the total want of vanity or affectation in all
she said and did ,* the modesty and good nature by which she made her
own sex forgive her talents, the noble demeanour and the purity by
which she forced the other to forget her situation. In the midst of
her loudest, wildest mirth, the most unprincipled libertine could not
have nourished a hope, or hazarded a look, that propriety would have
reproved. She was like the sweetbriar, whose scents embalm the air,
but whose thorns prevent the gazer from approaching near enough to
be torn by them. I looked at her with wonder and admiration. She
had then just completed her twentieth year.
" Nay, my dear Prince," said she, in reply to some remark made by
a dark, handsome, though somewhat disagreeable-looking man, <( you
surely would not attempt to make war upon the lasting force of early
impressions ?"
" I would certainly maintain," replied he, " that it is only in very
weak natures that such can be uneradicable."
" On the contrary," rejoined she, and a tint of deeper colour rose to
her cheek and brow, " watch the young tree that has grown in the
cleft of a half-ruined tower : its branches you may cut, its stem you
may fell with the axe, but its root you will not wrench from its bed ;
or, if you do, it will be piecemeal, and dragging with it, and demolish-
ing the substance on which it is grafted. And thus there are impres-
sions^of our youth," continued she, her eyes beaming with inspiration,
" which in some natures, I do not say in all, cannot be eradicated
without crushing and breaking the heart with whose inmost fibres
their roots have been twined."
:< The Prince seems convinced," said I to her in a whisper.
" You mistake," answered she with a smile ; " he is only confused,
and puzzled to know whether / am convinced of what I "have been
saying."
At this moment a servant brought her a note.
"Will you allow me?" inquired she; and, having heard the prompt
affirmative, she opened and glanced at the contents of the epistle.
" Say that it is well, and that I will come," said she to the servant.
And, when he had left the room, So," added she in a half- jesting,
half-pouting tone, " because the Grand Duke of has chosen to
arrive here three full weeks before he was expected, and because his
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 149
Royal Highness is provokingly pleased to make ( Norma' his favourite
opera, I must enact Bellini's heroine to-morrow evening, instead of
having a musical party at home ; and to-night be done to death by that
worst of all slow tortures, a general rehearsal."
Loud and reiterated expressions of delight followed this announce-
ment, in the midst of which she turned to me, saying,
" To-morrow you will have an opportunity of seeing what popularity
means in this music-loving capital.
One by one the guests disappeared. I still remained, and in half an
hour had heard the whole history of intervening years, and promised
to come and see her the next day. Her equipage was at the door to
take her to the rehearsal. She threw a cloak over her shoulders, a lace
veil over her head, and, as she sprang into the carriage, she again held
out her hand to me, saying, " To-morrow don't forget !"
******
I know not whether it was a foreboding, or what might have occa-
sioned the sensation, but, as I ascended the stone staircase, methought
a sharp wind came down through the corridors, that chilled me with
an icy touch. The sun shone brightly, but to me it seemed that his
rays were pale and cold. I shivered. All was still throughout the
house I knew there was a change ; and as the servant shut the door,
and left me alone in the same room in which I had been the day be-
fore, I started, and felt as though a stony weight had fallen on my
heart. After a few minutes' reflection, and an effort to laugh myself
out of an anxiety I could not explain, a waiting-woman entered, and
begged of me to follow her to her mistress's apartment. I wished to
speak, and ask her what ? I knew not. My tongue was frozen in
my mouth I stared at her ; she repeated her request, and I silently
followed my silent guide. We passed through the orange-coloured
silk curtain into a small vestibule filled with flowers, paved with
black and white marble, and through the stained glass window of
which the sunbeams shone with softened radiance. At one end was
a folding-door, covered with crimson cloth, and studded with brass
nails. My conductress opened it, and knocked at the inner portal it
concealed. The reply from within was scarcely audible ; but the Abi-
gail opened the door, and closed it behind me. I stood rooted to the
spot. All my forebodings, all my unaccountable presentiments from
the moment I crossed the threshold were explained ! In an arm-chair
of green velvet sat, or rather reclined, she who but four-and-twenty
hours ago bounded to meet me like a fawn or an antelope !
" O'er every feature of that still, pale face,
Had sorrow fix'd what time can ne'er erase."
I looked long and earnestly at her. I saw that a blight had fallen
on the young plant. Her cheek, brow, and lips were bloodless ; and
the smile had fled from her soul back to its parent regions above for
ever ; but I searched in vain for all outward signs of the disorder grief
usually brings with it. Her dress, a simple white peignoir, was elegant
and composed ; her hair carefully, purely braided across her forehead.
There were neither pocket-handkerchiefs, salts, nor bottles of eau de
Cologne about her ; but she, in whose veins the blood had run quick
and warm as the lava stream down the sides of Vesuvius, was as com-
pletely petrified as though the ^Egis of antiquity had looked her into
stone ; thinking, reflecting, moral life was extinct ! In the scene of
her former mirth and joy she sat like the skeleton of the ancient Egyp-
150 THE TWO BOUQUETS.
tian banquets : a habitant of the grave in the midst of the pleasures of
life ! If she had fainted, screamed, wept, raved, or torn her hair, I
should have breathed more freely ; but this stagnant stillness fell upon
my heart as the heavy sluggishness of the sultry atmosphere falls on
the senses of the Bedouin when he crosses the Desert, even as the
simoom awakes from its couch in the skies. .Her spirit had been
taken into the cold caverns of misery, and the damp, noisome breath
had extinguished its light.
She raised her eyes to mine, but was silent. I gasped, and stagger
ed towards her. I tried to speak ; when from a small mosaic table at
her side she took an open letter, and, extending her hand, put it into
mine. I half recoiled, for it was like the touch of a corpse. The post-
mark was C . I glanced at the contents. The letter fell from my
fingers, and I dropped on a chair:
The Baron de was married !
There are times when to attempt consolation would be a mockery. I
picked up the fallen letter from the ground, and replaced it mechani-
cally on the table. Some seconds passed in silence : she broke it,
and extending her hand to me,
"I am more of a man than you are/' said she, with a smile that was
like the sick light of the waning moon upon a gravestone. * * *
I could not help remarking the strange mixture of furniture in her
boudoir, as slight proofs of the various tastes and occupations of the
owner. A splendid grand pianoforte formed one principal ornament,
with, scattered upon it, piles of instrumental and vocal music by all
composers, and in all languages. Books, prints, and drawings in profu-
sion, lay on different tables. By the side of the choicest paintings on
the walls hung the most richly-enamelled, fancifully-mounted pistols;
from those fitted for the belt of an Albanian bandit, or the holsters of
a Turkish Mamelouck, down to the best English hair-triggers. Riding-
whips and fencing-foils were laid by the side of innumerable sheets of
paper, covered with both prose and poetry written in a delicate but de-
cided female hand. Powder-flasks, and cases of percussion-caps, kept
open the pages of some choice old manuscript ; and fishing-tackle was
entangled around a beautifully-inlaid Spanish guitar in a corner. In
the window were ranged flowers the most expensive and most rare ;
and at her feet lay a magnificent and gigantic dog of the dark grey,
black spotted, Ulmer stag-hound breed.
On the table at her side lay Schiller's " Wallensteiri's Tod," open at
the scene between Thekla, her mother and father. My eye fell on
the page, and I involuntarily uttered aloud,
"Es ist mein starkes Madchen!"
" Yes," said she ; te but Thekla was happier than I am, for Max
Piccolomini was only dead. She might accuse Heaven ; but / must
accuse him"
At this moment the door opened ; a mild, benevolent-looking old
man advanced to her side.
"So, doctor, is it you ?" murmured she, giving him her hand. "You
have come to visit a patient; but / am not ill;" and she looked him
firmly and steadily in the face.
" I fear more than you yourself think," rejoined he with a marked
manner, and watching her scrutinizingly.
After a little conversation, which she strove to render general, and
THE TWO BOUQUETS. 151
during which the disciple of ^Esculapius never withdrew his eyes from
her face :
" What is the hour ?" asked he carelessly.
She took from the table a small jewelled watch, which lay there
fastened to a chain of gold. With the first glance her countenance un-
derwent a change, although very slight, and with 
