Skip to main content

Full text of "Edward Wortley Montagu. An autobiography [ficious]"

See other formats 


'■•'•■'■■■■■■■:■ 


HP 


HH. 

B 


Hi 


■•''«■ 


mssnm 
smtSm 


111 

■SB 


m 


aKJra 
BBS! 

gag 


■ 


& 


HI 


R 


DCS    ■tHnrffTT 

Hi 


aiBRAHY 
OF   THE 

U  N  IVERSITY 
Of    1LLI  NOIS 


K55le. 

v.  *L 


THIS  DAY.- In  3  Vols. 

DR.       ARMSTRONG. 

An  Autobiography. 

e<  The  characters  in  this  tale  are  very  boldly  sketched.    It  has 
many  excellent  qualities  to  recommend  it." — Liverpool  Albion. 

"The  history  of  a  woman's  wrongs  and  a  woman's  sorrows  told 
with  simple  and  touching  pathos." — Evening  Post. 


A      CHEAPER      EDITION. 
In  1  Vol.     Price  6s. 

THE  SPAS  OF   GERMANY,  SWITZERLAND, 
FRANCE,  AND  ITALY. 

A  HAND-BOOK  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  WATERING  PLACES 

ON  THE  CONTINENT. 

By  THOMAS  MORE  MADDEN,  M.D., 

Author  of  "  Change  of  Climate  in  Pursuit  of  Health,"  &c. 

"A  work  accurate  and  serviceable  in  all  its  important  details. 
The  chapter  on  the  art  of  travel  is  a  small  volume  in  itself." — 
Morning  Post. 

c  '  "We  cordially  recommend  this  book  not  only  to  the  medical  pro- 
fession, but  to  educated  persons  of  every  calling." — Medical  Press. 

"The  great  value  of  the  book  lies  in  the  judicious  directions  given 
to  invalids  as  to  the  use  and  abuse  of  the  individual  springs  they  are 
enjoined  to  visit."—  The  Warder. 

"Dr.  Madden's  'Guide  to  the  Spas'  will  find  equal  acceptance 
with  medical  and  non -professional  readers,  as  it  supplies  what  has 
hitherto  been  a  serious  want — namely,  a  complete  manual  on  the 
subject  of  mineral  waters." — Irish  Times. 


In  1  Vol.    10s.  6d. 

THE     MAGICAL      EYE-GLASS 


THE  NEWEST  NOVELS. 


In  2  Vols. 

FAVILLA'S      FOLLIES. 

"  The  author  has  evident  power  of  imagination,  and  the   ar* 
writing  3imply,  clearly,  unaffectedly,   and  grammatically.    There  is 
not  a  line  in  the  two  volumes  bordering  on  coarseness."—  AtheNjEUM. 

11  It  will  please  all  lady  readers."— Observer. 


In  2  Vols. 

PHILIP  VAUGHAN'S  MARRIAGE. 

By  MES.  FITZMAUPJCE  OKEDEX, 
Author  of  "Felicia's  Dowry." 

"  The  author  has  produced  a  book  that  may  be  read  without  skip- 
ping, and  with  legitimate  interest.  It  will  be  appreciated  at  the  sea- 
side."—Morning  Tost. 

"  Nettine  is  a  brilliant  conception,  worked  out  with  great  force 
and  power."— Pembrokeshire  Herald. 


In  2  Vols. 

CUTHBERT      KNOPE. 

"Mrs,  Knope  (a  Mrs.  Poyser),  is  well  conceived." — Liverpool 
Daily  Post. 

"  The  sketches  of  village  life  and  gossip  are  very  good." — LlVCfc- 
pool  Albion. 

11  A  domestic  novel,  and  a  very  good  one." — Scotsman. 

"  Simply,  cleverly,  and  pleasantly  written." — Birmingham 
Journal. 


In  1  Vol. 

MY      BRIDES. 

By  MISS  NESBETT. 

"A  conciso  and  pithy  tale." — Liverpool  Albion. 

"  A  very   readable  and   pleasant  book,  which  may  be  cordially 

recommended.     Mitt  Nesbett's  first  novel  justifies  us  in  encouraging 
her  to  write  another."— Atuenjeum. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 


AN   AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


IN      THREE       VOLUMES 


13    "6lK    DP    -ftt? 

"  Let  the  day  perish  in  which  I  was  born." 


VOL.  II. 


JTanbnn : 

T.     CAUTLEY      NEWBY,      PUBLISHER, 

30,  WELBECK   STREET,  CAVENDISH  SQUARE. 

1869. 
[all  eights  keserved.] 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

But  a  certain  man  named  Ananias  with  Sapphira  his  wife,  sold 
a  possession.  .  .  .  Ananias,  why  hath  Satan  filled  thine 
heart  to  lie  to  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  .  .  .  Then  fell  down  she 
straightway  at  his  feet,  and  yielded  np  the  ghost ;  and  the 
young  men  came  in  and  found  her  dead,  and  carrying  her  forth, 
buried  her  by  her  husband.  ...  ...  •••  •••  1 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Intreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  following  after 
thee;  for  whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go  ;  and  where  thoulodgest, 
I  will  lodge ;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God,  my 
God.  Where  thou  diest,  I  will  die  ;  and  there  will  I  be  buried  ; 
the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death  part 
thee  and  me.  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  •••        20 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

My  dove,  my  undefiled  is  but  one ;  she  is  the  only  one  of  her 
mother,  she  is  the  choice  one  of  her  that  bare  her,  and  they 
blessed  her,  yea  the  queens  and  the  concubines,  and  they 
praised  her.  Who  is  She  that  looketh  forth  as  the  Morning, 
fair  as  the  Moon,  clear  as  the  Sun  ?  ...  ...  ...  ...        31 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Then  a  Spirit  passed  before  my  face  ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood  up  ; 
it  stood  still,  but  I  could  not  discover  the  form  thereof;  an 
image  was  before  mine  eyes  ;  there  was  silence,  and  I  heard  a 
voice.         ...  •••  •••  .»•  ••  ...  ••• 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Immediately  there  met  him  out  of  the  tombs,  a  man  with  an  un- 
clean spirit,  who  had  his  dwelling  among  the  tombs ;  and  no 
man  could  bind  him,  no  not  with  chains  ;  because  that  he  had 
been  often  bound  with  fetters  and  chains,  and  the  chains  had 
been  plucked  asunder  by  him,  and  the  fetters  broken  in  pieces, 
neither  could  any  man  tame  him,      ...  ...  ...  •••        $7 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

O  full  of  all  subtlety  and  all  mischief,  thou  child  of  the  devil,  thou 
enemy  of  all  righteousness,  wilt  thou  not  cease  to  pervert  the 
the  right  ways  of  the  Lord  ?...  ...  ...  ...  ...       78 


4S 


II 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  ways  ?  hy  taking  beed 
thereto  according  to  Thy  word.  With  my  whole  heart  have  1 
sought  Thee.  ...  ...  ...  ...  •••  •••      10* 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Then  entered  Satan  into  Judas,  surnamed  Iscariot,  being  of  the 
number  of  the  Twelve,  and  he  went  his  way,  and  communed 
with  the  Chief  Priests  and  Captains  how  he  might  betray  Him 
unto  them.  And  they  were  glad,  and  commanded  to  give  him 
money.       ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...  ...      US 

CHAPTER  XXH. 

Behold  as  wild  asses  in  the  desert,  go  they  forth  to  their  work, 
rising  betimes  for  a  prey ;  the  wilderness  yieldeth  food  for  them, 

and  for  their  children And  as  for  thee,  thou  shalt 

be  as  one  of  the  fools  in  Israel.  ...  ...  ...  -•      137 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

0  generation  of  vipers,  how  can  ye  being  evil  speak  good  things  ? — 
for  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh.        ...       167 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
And  we  entered  into  the  house  of  Philip  the  Evangelist.  ...      199 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Israel  hath  not  obtained  that  which  he  seeketh  for,  but  the  election 

hath  obtained  it,  and  the  rest  were  blinded And 

David  saith.  Let  their  table  be  made  a  snare  and  a  trap,  and  a 
stumbling-block,  and  a  recompense  unto  them.  ...  ...      226 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  sword  without  and  terror  within,  shall  destroy  both  th« 
young  man  and  tho  virgin.  ...  ...  ...  •••  •••      275 


EDWAED    WOKTLEY    MONTAGU. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


' '  But  a  certain  man  named  Ananias  with  Sapphira  his  wife, 
sold  a  possession.  .  .  ,  Ananias,  why  hath  Satan  filled  thine 
heart  to  lie  to  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  .  .  .  Then  fell  down  she 
straightway  at  his  feet,  and  yielded  up  the  ghost ;  and  the  young 
men  came  in  and  found  her  dead,  and  carrying  her  forth,  buried 
her  by  her  husband." 


Fair  and  beautiful  art  thou,  0,  Morning  Star ! 
Thou  gleamest  high  in  the  blue  heaven ;  the 
purple  waves  awaken  into  light,  and  watch  thy 
golden  brightness  on  their  crests.  I  sit  within 
my  moveless  gondola,  and  gaze  aloft ;  I  think  me 
of  the  olden  days  when  she  also  shone ;  when  she, 
who  was  fairer  to  my  soul  than  all  the  host  of 
heaven,  lived  and  beamed,  and  shed  her  lustre  on 

VOL.    IL  b 


Z  EDWARD    W0RTLEY  MONTAGU. 

my  heart.  O,  days  !  0,  long  lost  days !  never 
once  to  be  forgotten — limned  in  splendour,  yet  in 
darkness  and  in  grief  upon  my  spirit,  to  perish 
only  when  that  spirit  perishes,  if  die  it  ever 
should.  How  shall  I  recall  ye?  How  shall  I 
endure  to  live  again  in  the  blank  past,  and 
awaken  memories  that  should  repose  for  aye? 
How  shall  I  retrace  the  bitter  woe,  the  agony  of 
recollection,  the  frenzy  of  my  love,  despair  and 
madness  ;  and  yet  survive  to  pen  them  down  on 
paper,  and  calmly  read  them  in  my  solitude  ? 
Yet  must  the  effort  be  made — a  pang,  and  reso- 
lution comes ;  the  iron-cased  and  conquering 
resolution  that  never  yet  forsook  me  in  my  need; 
and  my  hand  and  heart  are  nerved  alike,  and  cold 
and  firm  as  steel.  0,  star  of  beauty,  shine  upon 
me  with  propitious  light !  For  well  I  know  that 
in  thy  luminous  sphere  she  now  abides  and  looks 
upon  the  lone  recluse,  the  weary  wanderer — the 
Ishmael  of  men,  whom  once  she  loved.  And 
often  in  the  dawn  she  visits  me  in  dream — visits 
me,  and  fills  me  with  the  music  of  the  spheres. 
She  comes  to  me  from  thee ;  she  descends  fro  m 
thy  silver  orb;  she  presses  my  lips  and  whispe  rs 
hope  into  my  heart.  She  says,  u  I  am  not  dead  ; 
1  mi  but  gone  before.  In  the  Morning  Star  we 
yet  shall  meet, and  in  our  union,  think  not  of  the 
inelaucholy  earth." 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  d 

Thou  art  gone  mine  own ;  thou  art  lost  to  me 
indeed.  For  a  brief  space  only  didst  thou  gild  my 
darkness.  We  heard  the  songs  of  Paradise  ;  we 
heard  them  but  for  a  moment,  and  all  was  chaos. 
Yet,  oh  how  vividly  that  moment  lives  within, 
around,  and  through  me.  Other  wandering  lights 
have  flitted  on  my  path— other  false  fires  have 
dazzled  and  misled  the  pilgrim  of  misfortune. 
But  never  once  wert  thou  erased  from  my  soul  ; 
never  once  was  thy  celestial  image  hurled  from 
the  altar  on  which,  as  in  some  sacred  temple, 
thou  wert  all  enshrined.  0,  Francesca,  angel  of 
my  life,  this  at  least  is  true,  that  never  once  wert 
thou  forgotten.  In  the  burning  conflict,  when 
foe  clashed  with  foe,  in  the  tumult  of  the  tem- 
pest, in  the  turmoil  of  ambition,  in  the  corrupt 
war  of  courts  and  senates,  in  the  whirlpool  of 
fashionable  madness,  in  the  far  and  silent  wil- 
derness, in  the  thought-uplifting  mountains  of  the 
Orient,  and  on  the  whirling  billows  of  the  ocean, 
still,  still  was  I  thine  own ;  and  when  the  last 
moment  of  my  life  draws  near,  and  the  death 
pang  quivers  through  my  frame,  and  my  heart 
throbs  again  faintly  in  the  mortal  agony,  still, 
still,  shall  one  image  beam  before  me,  conjoined 
with  that  of  God ;  and  that  image  shall  be  thine. 
Do  I  rave,  or  do  I  see  thee  now  ?  The  Morning 
Star  opens  her  golden  gates ;  she  sends  thee  forth 

b  2 


4  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

a  beautiful  winged  spirit;  thou  glidest  down- 
wards over  the  silver  tracks,  over  tbe  blue  waters. 
I  see  thee,  and  now  thou  art  beside  me.  An 
ethereal  light  overshadows  me.  I  feel  thy  pre- 
sence ;  my  heart  is  in  an  ecstacy.  It  is  thou — 
it  is  thou,  my  Francesca,  who  art  come  again, 
who  art  come  again  to  cheer  me  in  my  desolation  ; 
to  whisper  happiness,  and  breathe  endurance  and 
content. 

Yes,   she    was   indeed    most    beautiful !      The 

pencil  of  liaffaele — I  have  seen  its  masterpieces — 

but  none  was  fair  as  she.     The  forms  of  Titian 

and  Giorgione,  the  bright   creations  of  liubens 

and  Lely,  the   life-like  women  of  Vandyke,  ah ! 

they  please,  indeed,  the  passing  eye ;  but  to  me 

they  typify  a  loveliness   far  inferior  to  that   of 

Francesca.     She  was  but  thirteen  when   first  I 

sought  protection  among  the  Gitanos.      I  saw  her 

not  forupwarda  of  a  year  after.   She  was  secluded 

from  all  vulgar  observation;    the    sun  was  not 

permitted    to   shine  upon   her.      Some   strange, 

dark  mystery  seemed  to  hang  around  her  very 

tent.     My  friend  and  tutor  knew  nothing  of  her ; 

the  old  Queen  of  the  Encampment  was  silent  as 

the  grave  on  all  that  appertained  to  the  lone 

recluse,     ^he  was  guarded  like  the  apple  of  the 

eye.     Accident  alone  revealed  her  to  me,  and  it 

happened  in  this  way. 


EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  5 

We  were  encamped  on  Salisbury  Plain.  The 
night  was  fair  and  beautiful,  ten  thousand  glit- 
tering stars  shone  in  the  broad  heaven;  shone 
above  those  sacred  ruins  of  our  grand  ancestors, 
who  brought  the  true  and  holy  faith  of  God  into 
England,  and  reared  those  solemn  arches  to  His 
honour.  I  wandered  away  at  some  distance  from 
the  tent — alone  with  my  thoughts ;  alone  and 
far  removed  from  the  homely  sights  that  ever 
appertain  to  mere  prosaic  life.  I  lifted  up  my 
heart  to  the  Stars.  I  singled  out  the  golden 
beaming  Jupiter,  and  thought  my  fate  identified 
with  him — bright,  when  he  was  glorious ;  dark, 
when  he  was  dimmed.  The  distant  bark  of  the 
watch-dog  alone  reminded  me  that  I  was  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  life.  I  wandered  farther  and 
farther  until  even  this  was  but  faintly  echoed. 
Then  did  I  give  myself  wholly  up  to  reverie.  My 
musings  probably  were  not  highly  philosophic  or 
profound  ;  what  musings  of  a  boy  ever  were  so  ? 
but  I  can  now  feel  that  they  were  sublime  and 
pure ;  that  they  were  wholly  disconnected  with 
earth,  and  all  the  base  and  wretched  properties  of 
that  theatrical  and  tinsel  puppet  show  which  we 
call  existence.  At  length  I  retraced  my  steps, 
and  had  nearly  reached  the  place  of  encampment, 
when  I  beheld  a  tall  figure  gliding  noislessly 
about  the  great  pillars,  like  the  spectre  of  some 


6  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

ancient  priest  of  Boodh,  or  Brahm — for  are  not 
both  the  names  of  the  One  God  ?  I  was  myself 
at  the  moment  in  such  a  position  that  I  must 
have  been  invisible ;  but  the  form  of  the  stranger 
stood  out  distinctly  against  the  gleaming  purple. 
A  wanderer  or  a  watcher  at  that  late  hour  was  a 
mystery,  perhaps  a  danger  in  disguise.  He.  pre- 
sented all  the  tokens  of  a  spy,  and  it  became  my 
duty  to  observe  him.  I  stole  with  panther-like 
tread  through  the  prostrate  ruins  ;  I  glided  like 
a  serpent  to  the  very  monolith  beside  which  the 
stranger  stood,  and  yet  he  knew  not  that  I  was 
near.  He  seemed  gazing  with  the  most  fixed 
earnestness  in  the  direction  of  our  tents  ;  all  the 
energies  and  faculties  of  his  mind  seemed  con- 
centrated into  his  eyes.  As  a  sentinel  on  the  eve 
of  some  long-expected  battle,  when  all  before 
him  is  wrapped  in  darkness,  and  even  the  bivouac 
fires  smoulder  in  the  gloom,  peers  into  the  obscure 
to  catch  the  least  glimpse  of  an  advancing  foe, 
for  well  he  knows  his  life  depends  upon  his 
vigilance — even  so  was  the  anxious  gaze  of  this 
man  upon  the  far-off  tents  of  my  companions.  He 
seemed  fixed  to  the  spot,  and  thus  he  stood 
motionless  for  half  an  hour.  At  length  I  heard 
a  light  and  cautious  footstep,  then  a  low  and 
quick  whistle,  and  one  emerged  suddenly,  though 
from  what  quarter  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 


EDWARD   WOKTLEY   MONTAGU.  7 

see ;  nor  could  I  at  first  distinguish  whether  it 
was  a  man  or  a  woman.     But  all  doubt  was  soon 
dispelled.     It  was  a  man,  and  one  of  the  Gitanos. 
He  was  called  Antonio.     He  came  up  right  to 
the  very  side  of  the  watcher,  and  I  could  see  him 
plainly  by  the  starlight.     Nay,  I  think  my  boding 
heart  had  divined  who  he  was,  even  before  it 
beheld    him    so    near    me.     I    crouched  closer 
beneath  the  shade  and  ruin,  and  felt  certain  that 
no  on  e  but  with  lion  eyes  would  be  able  to  detect 
me  in  the  gloom.     Luckily  I  was  right.     Both 
were  probably  too  much  wrapped  up  in  their  own 
thoughts  to  notice  anything  around  them.    Their 
faculties  were  concentrated   only   on   one  point, 
and  in  this   I  felt  was  my  chief  security.     For 
this  Antonio  was  no  ordinary  man.     He  was  no 
unobservant  drudge.     He  was  short  and  thick, 
low  in  the   forehead,  like  Fox ;  large  in  the  back 
of  his  head,  like  Bute  ;  his  dark  eyes  peered  out 
from  underneath  hanging  brows,  like  ferret's  out 
of  a  cage  ;  they  were  restless  and  ever  changing, 
as  you  must  have  seen  a  rat's  eyes  are.     I  have 
seen  plenty  of  such  fellows  in  Westminster  Hall. 
Wherever  you  turned  he    seemed  to  be  watching 
you.     There  was  an  ever-moving,  glittering  ex- 
pression about  them.     They  seemed  as  volatile  as 
quicksilver.     You  never  could  fix,  or  catch  them 
in  the  same  position  for  more  than  an   instant. 


8  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

They  gave  you  a  most  unpleasant  feeling.  I  had 
always  disliked  this  fellow.  Believing  faithfully 
in  the  Indian  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  I  was 
convinced  that  his  next  phase  of  being  would  be 
that  of  a  rat,  or  some  such  hideous  creature,  and 
I  kept  out  of  his  path  as  carefully  as  I  could. 
This  vagabond  now  accosted  the  watcher. 
"  Have  I  kept  your  lordship  waiting  ?"  he  said, 
"  I  fear  that  I  have,  but  I  made  all  the  haste  I 
could.     I  half  suspect  that  I  am  watched  !  " 

u  Pooh !  "  answered  the  other,  "  that  is  im- 
possible.    What  news  ?" 

tl  She  would  have  been  out  to-night  as  usual, 
my  lord,  but  her  attendant  was  unwell,  so  she 
stayed  within  to  nurse  her." 

"  And  how  long  will  this  illness  last?" 
"  Ch  !  no  time — she  will  doubtless   take  her 
accustomed   walk    to-morrow   night.     Let  your 
lordship  then  be  ready." 
"  At  what  hour?" 
"  Nine." 

"  'Tis  well,  till  then— take  this !  "  and  he  flung 
him  a  purse,  and  turned  away.  The  gipsy  stole 
towards  our  watch  fires.  I  waited  until  he  was 
out  of  sight,  and  then  taking  a  circuitous  route, 
I  ran  as  if  I  were  winged  and  got  to  the  encamp- 
ment before  him.  When  he  arrived  there,  I  was 
quietly   seated   in  front  of  my   own  tent   with 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  9 

Manasam.  Antonio  passed  and  wished  us  good 
night  We  returned  it,  and  he  went  on.  As  he 
disappeared  I  heard  a  death  shot  ringing  in  mine 
ears ;  I  saw  a  conflict,  and  it  was  for  life  or  death  ; 
a  mortal  struggle,  a  weeping  female,  a  finely 
dressed  man — and  then  I  heard  the  whizzing 
bullet  and  the  last  scream  of  guilty  horror.  A 
red  film  of  gore  seemed  to  pass  before  my  eyes, 
and  all  was  bright  and  clear  again.  Satanas  had 
got  another  subject. 

"  Well,"  I  uttered,  "  so  be  it." 
W  hen  I  turned  to  my  companion  I  was  startled 
to    see   his   fixed   gaze   upon   me.     He   seemed 
stricken  with  a  strange  awe ;  his  eyes  penetrated 
my  heart  and  spirit. 

"  Zala-Mayna,"  said  he,  "Zala-Mayna — what 
means  this  ?     Are  you  mad,  or  dreaming?" 

"  How  now,"  I  answered,  "  what's  the  matter  ? 
who  fired  ?" 

"  My  poor  boy,"  said  he,  "  you  have  fatigued 
yourself  with  this  wild  ramble,  go  to  bed — go  to 
bed." 

"Who  fired?"  said  I,  "  who  is  shot?" 
"  No  one  that  I  know  of,"  he  answered,  "  but 
speak." 

I  then  recounted  to  him  in  a  low  whisper  what 
I  had  witnessed  and  heard  beside  the  giant  pillar 
of  the  plain,  and  told  him  also  what  had  just 

b  5 


10  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

passed  before  my  eyes.     He  was  silent  for  a  time. 
He  then  said — 

"  Come,  let  us  go  into  our  tent" 

When   we   got   there,   and  had   interchanged 

thought  for  half  an  hour,  we  concerted  measures 

for  the  following  night.  These  were  soon  arranged. 

I  flung  myself  on  my  bed,  and  slept.     And  I  had 

a  dream,  and  my  dream  was  beautiful.     For  the 

Morning  Star  descended  from  his  throne  in  heaven 

and  came  into  my  presence  glorious,  like  a  youth 

of  God,  and  kissed  my  lips,  and  left  celestial  fire 

upon  them,  and  then  departed  with  a  smile,  which 

seemed  to  say,  "  Be  prosperous,  0  Son  of  Fate  ! ' 

And  when  I  woke,  the  early  sun  shone  full  upon 

me,  and  the  larks  made  sweet  melody,  and  I  felt 

secure  and  strong. 


"  And  were  they  indeed  gods  who  built  Stone- 
henge,  nurse?" 

"  Aye,  little  one,  the  gods  of  India,  from  whom 
we  are  descended,  and  who  guard  us  still." 

"And  why  did  not  the  gods  preserve  their 
beautiful  temple  until  now  ?  Methinks  that 
having  brought  these  huge  stones  so  far  from 
heaven  they  might  have  kept  them  ever  in  per- 
fection." 

' '  Ah !  little  one,  these  are  questions  that  no 
mortal  can  solve." 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        11 

"  And  shall  we  ever  see  those  glorious,  mighty 
gods  ?" 

"  Yes,  indeed,  let  us  hope  so,  and  that  soon." 

"  And  are  they  as  beautiful  as  you  said?" 

li  Beautiful !  they  are  more  beautiful  than  the 
sun.  Each  one  is  twelve  feet  high,  splendid  as 
light,  and  pure  as  diamond.  Their  wings  are 
silver — white  as  moonbeams.  Their  diadems  are 
living  fire  ;  their  words  are  like  sweet  harps." 

"  Oh,  how  I  long  to  see  those  splendid  gods, 
will  you  n  ot  take  me  soon  to  their  country  ?  It 
is  India — is  India  far  away  ?" 

"  Many  a  day's  sail,  and  many  a  night's  journey 
is  India ;  but  when  we  get  there  we  shall  see  the 
gods." 

There  was  a  shrill  whistle,  at  which  the  young 
damsel  and  her  nurse  startled.  We  crouched 
closer  beneath  our  column.  All  around  was  clear 
moonlight,  but  we  were  in  shadow.  Two  figures 
suddenly  rushed  upon  them — they  were  Antonio, 
and  the  man  he  called  "my  lord." 

u  You  must  come  with  us,"  said  the  latter ;  and 
he  laid  hold  of  the  young  girl.  In  doing  so  her 
face  became  revealed  in  the  moonlight ;  her  hood 
had  fallen  off.  It  was  the  face  of  an  angel.  All 
heaven  seemed  open  in  that  innocent  countenance. 
The  eyes  were  softly,  darkly  blue ;  the  hair  was 
golden  and  lustrous,   like  the  Evening  Star  re- 


12        EDWARD  W0RTLEY  MONTAGU. 

fleeted  on  a  lake  ;  the  skin  was  whiter  than 
Italian  marble.  No  sculptor  ever  carved  a  form 
bo  transcendent;  no  painter  ever  drew  one.  I 
could  have  fallen  before  her  on  my  knees  as  if 
she  were  the  Holy  Spirit. 

She  did  not  scream,  but  stood  as  if  surprised. 
She  seemed  puzzled  to  know  what  this  man  could 
want  with  her.     She  merely  said — 

u  Oh  !  no,  sir,  I  must  go  home  ;  it  is  now  time. 
This  is  my  nurse;  yonder  are  our  tents." 

c<  You  must  come  with  me,'1  said  my  lord ;  and 
he  began  to  pull  her  away.  But  now  the  nurse  inter- 
posed. She  demanded  fiercely  what  they  wanted. 
My  lord  made  no  reply.  Antonio,  who  was 
masked,  swore  at  her,  and  told  her  to  be  still. 

"  Ah !"  said  she,  "  I  know  your  voice  ;"  and 
she  tore  off  his  mask.  She  had  scarcely  done  so 
when  he  stabbed  her.     She  fell. 

"  Now,  my  lord,"  said  he,  "  lose  no  time;"  and 
he  caught  the  little  maid  and  began  to  gag  her. 
But  scarcely  had  he  laid  his  rude  hand  upon  her 
when  he  fell  dead  ;  a  shot  from  my  pistol  had 
done  the  work.  My  last  night's  vision  was  ful- 
filled. My  lord  trembled ;  he  looked  round,  but 
saw  no  one.  Dropping  the  child's  hand,  he  fled 
with  the  rapidity  of  guilt.  Manasam  pursued  him. 
I  went  up  to  the  girl.  She  was  firm,  but  pale 
as  death.     I  accosted  her  in  softest  words,  but 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  13 

she  seemed  to  hear  me  or  to  heed  me  not.  She 
said,  "  Nurse,  nurse,  where  are  you?  Come,  let 
us  go  home." 

A  faint  voice  answered,  u  The  villain  has 
stabbed  me.    Help,  or  I  shall  die." 

I  tore  off  my  coat,  I  bound  up  her  wound,  I 
tended  her,  and  gave  her  a  restorative  from  a 
flask.  This  revived  her,  and  after  some  delay  she 
stood  up,  but  her  tread  was  feeble  in  the  extreme. 
si  Good  mother,"  said  I,  "lean  on  me."  And  I 
helped  her  forward.  The  damsel  said  not  a  word, 
but  clung  to  her  in  speechless  silence.  We 
wended  slowly  homeward.  Before  we  got  there 
Manasam  overtook  us.  (i  lie  has  escaped,"  he 
said. 

I  was  summoned  next  day  to  the  nurse's  tent, 
and  went  with  Manasam.  She  was  evidently 
dying ;  the  seal  of  death  was  on  her  pale  features. 
When  we  entered  a  faint  smile  of  gratitude  or 
welcome  stole  over  her  countenance,  but  it  soon 
passed  away.  She  motioned  to  us  to  sit  down, 
and  we  did  so. 

"  Zala-Mayna,"  said  she, "  I  have  sent  for  you; 
I  have  much  to  say,  and  my  time  is  short.  She 
whom  you  have  saved  is  yours  by  right ;  from 
this  day  forth  she  is  your  betrothed.  You  have 
given  her  her  life  ;  that  life  should  be  henceforth 
given  unto  you.     And  it  will  be  so.     I  have  al- 


14       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

ready  spoken  unto  her,  and  she  says  it  is  but  just. 
Will  you  pledge  yourself  to  the  dying  woman  to 
receive,  to  cherish,  to  defend  her  against  all  ?" 

I  willingly  promised.  It  was  like  the  realiza- 
tion of  a  wild  celestial  dream.  Manasam  wit- 
nessed it.  The  dying  woman  seemed  content. 
"  Now,"  said  she,  "  let  me  tell  all." 

"  The  man  from  whom  I  have  got  my  death 
blow  was  my  second  husband.  His  name  is 
Antonio ;  let  him  be  seized  and  brought  to 
justice." 

I  told  her  he  was  dead.  She  expressed  no 
surprise.  "  Ah!"  said  she,  "  that  is  right.  He 
has  got  his  reward.     I  shall  die  content." 

"My  first  husband,"  she  continued,  "was 
equally  wicked.  He  stole  this  beautiful  one 
while  she  was  yet  an  infant.  She  was  the  sole 
heiress  to  a  great  estate.  Her  father  and  mother 
doted  on  her.  The  child  of  their  old  age,  when 
there  was  no  further  hope  of  male  offspring  to 
supplant  her  in  her  fortune,  she  became  the  very 
light  of  their  eyes.  They  worshipped  her — and 
Devee  stepped  in  to  punish  them.  The  father 
had  a  younger  brother — the  man  whom  you  saw 
last  night.  He  is  now  a  great  lord,  and  holds 
Francesca's  rightful  estate  ;  but  justice  shall  be 
done,  and  she  shall  put  the  false  usurper  out. 
He    came  to  our  tents  some  nine  or  ten  years 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  15 

since.  My  husband  and  he  had  some  former 
dealings  together,  and  he  sought  him  out  and 
found  him.  For  an  immense  bribe — immense  I 
mean  to  my  husband,  but  to  this  fellow  it  was  as 
nothing — he  employed  him  to  steal  this  infant, 
the  sole  obstacle  between  himself,  a  peerage,  and 
ten  thousand  acres.  My  husband  did  so.  He 
brought  her  to  me.  We  were  then  childless. 
1  See/  said  he,  '  what  a  pretty  babe  I  have  found 
for  you ;  she  lay  on  the  road  side ;  she  was 
deserted ;  she  had  no  father,  no  mother.  The 
gods  have  sent  her  to  us,  as  we  had  none  our- 
selves.' I  believed  him.  I  brought  her  up.  You 
have  seen  her.  Does  she  cast  discredit  on  me? 
Your  eyes  say  no.  Well,  you  could  not  say  other- 
wise with  truth.  When  she  was  twelve  years  old 
my  husband  fell  sick ;  he  was  dying,  he  was  afraid. 
He  said  that  he  had  had  a  dreadful  dream ;  that 
he  could  not  die  until  he  told  all ;  and  then  for 
the  first  time  he  confessed  the  truth — and  what  a 
truth  it  was.  The  father  and  mother  had  searched 
the  whole  country  for  their  child,  but  could  get 
no  tidings  of  her.  The  mother  died  broken- 
hearted in  six  months.  The  father  lingered  yet 
a  little  longer,  but  he  soon  followed  her  to  the 
grave.  The  brother  became  my  lord :  he  jumped 
into  the  estate,  and  keeps  it  still.  And  my  hus- 
band said,   i  Nana,  I    cannot  die  until  you  swear 


16        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

to  me  to  restore  her  to  her  rights.  I  cannot  rest 
in  my  grave  as  long  as  she  is  defrauded.  G-o  at 
once  to  the  uncle,  proclaim  the  robbery,  restore 
her  to  her  own,  and  my  spirit  will  rest ;  now  it  is 
in  fire.'  I  made  the  promise  he  demanded.  He 
Heemed  more  easy,  but  in  an  hour  he  died  in 
dreadful  agony.  Never  shall  I  forget  his  cries, 
his  imprecations*  his  convulsive  madness.  Well, 
he  is  no  more." 

Here  she  stopped.  She  was  growing  fainter 
and  fainter.  The  thick  damps  of  death  stood  in 
large  drops  upon  her  face.  After  a  time  she  re- 
commenced. 

"  Antonio  became  my  second  husband.  I  told 
him  all.  Could  I  do  otherwise  ?  We  were  then 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  country.  We  came  here 
about  a  year  ago,  and  kept  her  close.  He  went 
to  my  lord  and  demanded  a  great  sum  to  hide  his 
infamy  from  the  world.  My  lord  refused.  He 
then  threatened  an  exposure.  Several  interviews 
passed,  but  little  of  their  plans  he  told  to  me. 
Doubtless  they  at  length  agreed,  and  last 
night's  treachery  disclosed  their  compact.  My 
lord  had  always  said  he  would  pay  no  more 
money  because  he  could  not  trust  him.  c  Give 
me  up  the  girl,'  he  said, '  and  name  your  own  re- 
ward ;  she  shall  be  safe,  but  in  a  foreign  land ; 
without  this  you  shall  have  nothing.'      Antonio 


EDWARD   WORTLET   MONTAGU.  17 

proposed  it  to  me,  but  I  refused.     It  was  In  the 
night.      My  husband's  ghost  stood  before  me. 
He  was  covered  in  blood  ;  he  was  wrapped   in 
fire.     He  wept,  he  screamed,  he  cursed  at  me. 
He  gave  me  no  rest  night  or  day.     I  refused  to 
come  in  to  Antonio's  plans.     I  said  if  you  restore 
her  not  I  will  call  the  whole  tribe  together  ;  I  will 
expose  you,  I  will  expose  the  dead,  but  she  shall 
have  her  rights.     He  pretended  to  agree  with  all 
I  said,  but  now  I  know  that  it  was  a  snare.     He 
acted  but  to  lull  me.     He  knew  that  we  walked 
out  at  night ;  he  prepared  this  plot,  doubtless,  for 
an  immense  price,  but  he  was  deceived.     He  be- 
trayed himself — he  fell  into  his  own  pit.      Well, 
it  is  right  and  just ;  but  I  also  am  punished  for 
my  weakness.     I  also  suffer  this  because  I  rein- 
stated her  not  myself,  but  entrusted  that  sacred 
duty  to  a  knave.     Ha !  what  see  1  ?     It   is  my 
husband's  phantom.     He  comes  to  drag  me  with 
him  into  ruin.     Now,  now  he  approaches — keep 
him   away,  keep   him  away — 0  God !    0  good 
friends,  keep  him  away.  Ah  !  he  is  upon  me.  He 
will  not  be  removed.     He  will  not  pardon.      He 
will  not  forgive  me  for  my  broken  oath.      Yet  I 
was  not  wholly  guilty ;    all  my  intentions  were 
good.     0  friends,  save  me — save   me  from  this 
appalling  vision.     He  seizes  me  by  the  throat — 
he  chokes — he  strangles — he  slays  me.     Oh !" 


18  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

She  died  in  agony.  We  were  affrighted  with 
a  wild  horror.  Alas  !  she  took  the  secret  of 
Francesca' s  birth  with  her.     It  was  lost  for  ever. 

We  buried  both  next  day  in  the  same  grave  ; 
the  deceived  wife,  the  treacherous  husband.  We 
piled  a  small  mound  of  stones  over  them,  and 
left  the  place  of  blood.  No  one  enquired  how 
Antonio  perished  ;  but  Manasam  called  the  tribe 
together.  He  recounted  all,  even  from  the  be- 
ginning. We  were  betrothed  the  same  day ;  I 
and  Francesca.  No  one  lifted  up  a  murmur  for 
the  death  of  this  accursed  scoundrel ;  every  heart 
felt,  confessed,  and  knew  that  it  was  his  fate — 
his  merited  fate. 

Among  the  Gitanos,  when  a  couple  are  be- 
trothed, they  wander  not  together  alone.  This 
were  infamy — for  their  women  must  not  even  be 
suspected.  They  are  all  chaste.  The  highest- 
born  princess  of  Europe  is  not  so  modest  in  every 
thought  and  word  as  the  poor  Gitana  who  sleeps 
under  the  tent,  with  only  the  bright  stars  to  be 
her  sentinels.  But  the  Queen  gipsy  took  com- 
passion on  our  youth.  Francesca,  too,  was  not  a 
Gitana,  and  I  was  the  sent  of  the  Eagle.  She 
said,  "  These  must  not  abide  in  all  things  by  our 
laws.  Let  them  be  together ;  let  them  pass  the 
next  year  in  sweet  communion,  side  by  side.  He 
will  not  harm  her.    T  know  it  by  his  eyes.    Even 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        19 

if  he  tried,  the  Gods  of  Brightness  would  defend 
her.  Let  it  be;"  and  so  it  was.  We  walked 
thenceforth  together ;  we  went  wherever  we 
pleased.  The  Gipsy-queen  received  her  into  her 
tent,  and  in  a  year  our  nuptials  were  to  take 
place. 


20        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


"Intreat  me  not  to  leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  following 
after  thee ;  for  whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go ;  and  where  thou 
lodgest,  I  will  lodge ;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God, 
my  God.  Where  thou  diest,  I  will  die  ;  and  there  will  I  be  buried  ; 
the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death  part  thee 
and  me." 


And  what  a  year  was  that!  Nature  herself 
seemed  all  propitious.  Never  shone  the  sun 
more  beautifully  over  the  earth ;  never  bloomed 
the  flowers  and  the  trees  with  more  vernant 
brightness  ;  never  gleamed  the  stars  with  lustre 
more  divine.  Ye  fair  and  pastoral  hills,  how 
sacred  ye  are!  ye  are  dedicated  to  an  everlasting 
holiness  in  my  heart.  We  strayed  over  their 
smooth  undulations,  and  gazed  upon  the  distant 
ocean,  blue  and  sparkling,  like  the  seas  in  heaven  ; 
we  descended  to  the  dappled  beach,  white  with 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       21 

many  a  shell,  and,  hand  in  hand,  wandered  by 
its  resounding  margin ;  now  watching  the  great 
waves  as  they  rolled,  and  boomed,  and  broke  in 
glittering  fragments  upon  the  beach ;  now  gazing 
upon  the  transparent  fall  of  emerald  which  they 
mimicked  when  the  evening  sun  shone  through 
their  curling  depths ;  now  hearkening  to  their 
wild  chorus  when  they  hoarsely  broke  upon  the 
strand  ;  and  now  charmed  with  the  soft  and  fairy- 
like whisper  with  which  they  glided  over  the 
soft  sand,  and  melted  away  within  its  bosom,  as 
if  too  gentle  to  do  ought  but  touch  it  with  their 
slightest  kiss.  We  looked  upon  the  West,  and 
saw  the  Golden  Palaces  of  the  Sun ;  we  lingered 
until  the  Evening  Star  arose,  and  roved  in  fancy 
amid  the  lakes,  the  gardens,  the  deeply  purple 
glens,  and  castellated  halls  that  seemed  to  live 
and  glitter  in  the  sky,  and  offer  us  a  home  of 
peace  within  that  far-off  Paradise. 

Francesca,  though  now  fifteen,  was  a  perfect 
child.  Ihe  calm  seclusion  in  which  she  had  been 
brought  up  had  made  her  wholly  iguorant  of  the 
world,  or  its  ways.  She  was  so  fair  that  to  her 
nurse  it  seemed  a  profanation  to  dye  that  lily 
skin ;  she  was  so  gentle  and  so  pure  that  she  had 
not  the  heart  to  expose  her  to  the  rude  gaze  even 
of  her  own  people .  She  guarded  her  as  they  guard 
the  sacred  Caaba  in  the  fane  of  Mecca.     No  pro- 


22  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

fane  eye  had  ever  shed  its  evil  light  upon  her 
loveliness.  The  gypsy  who  had  stolen  her  had 
always  impressed  upon  his  wife  the  necessity  of 
keeping  her  away  from  view.  When  he  was 
dying,  and  the  terrible  secret  of  his  heart  was  at 
length  revealed,  solitude  had  become  so  much  her 
habit,  that  she  and  her  nurse  continued  it  from 
choice.  The  Queen  of  the  Encampment  was  the 
only  person  to  whom  the  latter  disclosed  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  she  had  become  possesed 
of  her ;  and  it  was  principally  under  the  guidance 
of  the  Queen  that  the  nurse  had  urged  Antonio 
to  seek  the  usurping  lord,  and  extort  from  his 
fears,  if  not  from  his  justice,  the  tardy  recogni- 
tion of  Francesca's  rights.  How  both  were  dis- 
appointed has  been  seen. 

Thus  brought  up  in  solitude  and  silence,  seldom 
coming  forth  into  the  world,  except  when  the 
moon  and  stars  were  in  their  glory,  and  wholly 
kept  apart  from  aught  that  could  stain  her  pure 
mind,  her  character  was  in  a  great  measure 
wholly  different  from  that  of  other  females,  and 
she  seemed  to  be  the  denizen  of  a  different 
sphere.  When  I  first  knew  her,  she  could  neither 
read  nor  write;  her  mind  was  that  of  a  young 
mountaineer;  a  crystal  tablet  all  unmarked,  but 
yet  as  beautiful  as  a  seraph's  soul.  In  a  little 
time  she  learned  both  accomplishments,  and  when 


EDWAKD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        23 

I  opened  to  her  this  world  of  wonders,  sweet  and 
boundless  was  her  gratitude.  This  task  was 
exquisitely  delightful  ;  her  innocent  surprise  at 
all  she  heard  was  the  most  rapturous  reward  I 
could  have  received.  I  told  her  all  the  faery  lore 
I  knew  myself;  of  the  little  hill  men  who  dwell 
in  topaz  palaces  beneath  the  earth,  and  the 
nymphs  that  fill  the  shell  and  coral  caves  of 
ocean ;  of  the  elves  and  water-necks,  the  trolls 
and  dwarfs ;  the  fair  invisible  existences  that 
connect  the  race  of  mortals  with  the  angelic 
choir  above  them,  and  the  glorious  Essences  that 
dwell  in  light.  From  these  I  lifted  up  her  mind 
to  the  celestial  tenants  of  the  stars,  and  taught 
her  how  in  ancient  ages  they  stood  before  the 
Throne  of  God,  each  a  sun  in  brightness  and 
magnificence,  until  the  schism  rose  which  first 
divided  the  sons  of  Heaven,  and  separated  Light 
from  Darkness. 

I  told  her  of  the  soul  and  its  immortal  splen- 
dour, its  heavenly  origin,  and  final  hope  ;  how  it 
became  a  wanderer  from  the  Gardens  of  Eden, 
that  have  their  place  high  with  God  ;  how  it 
suffered,  and  wept,  and  ever  longed  to  return  to 
its  primal  home ;  how  it  was  clogged  and  fettered 
by  the  flesh,  the  world,  and  temptation,  but  how 
it  finally  should  triumph  over  all  obstacles,  and 
be   numbered   once   agai  n   among    the    golden, 


24        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

shining  bands  of  the  Father  and  the  King.  I 
spoke  to  her  of  the  innumerable  spheres  of  light 
which  rolled  in  silence  over  our  heads — each  one 
a  world  inhabited  by  splendid  Existences,  en- 
tirely different  from  men,  as  men  differ  from 
birds  and  insects,  fishes  or  flowers  ;  and  taught 
her  how  these  Star-dwellers  lifted  up  their 
thoughts  to  the  All-Father,  and  were  filled  with 
reverence  and  love,  even  as  all  created  beings 
should  be.  I  gave  my  fancy  wings,  and  endea- 
voured to  depicture  the  many  grades  and  orders  of 
happiness  which  in  perpetual  Cycles  revolve 
around  the  Divine  Centre  ;  and  thus,  with  truth 
and  imagination  intermingled,  I  sought  to  colour 
her  soul  with  those  tints  of  beauty  which  make 
it  wholly  perfect.  Why  did  I  not  confine  myself 
to  plain  matter  of  fact  ?  Because  I  hate  it, 
because  it  is  detestable,  because  it  is  false,  because 
it  is  lowering  and  degrading.  When  we  soar  in 
fancy  above  this  clay,  we  are  near  to  God;  wheo 
we  chain  ourselves  down  to  one,  two,  three,  and 
carry  nought,  we  are  very  sober,  decent,  ti\ 
manlike  persons,  but  are  only  earthly,  carnal, 
grubbing  moles . 

"Oh!  Zala-Mayna,"  she  would  say,  "  how 
thankful  ought  I  to  be  to  the  good  God  that  he 
has  sent  you  here  to  us.  The  old  Queen  calls 
you  Eagle-sent.     Are  you  indeed  so  ?" 


EDWARD  WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  25 


"  I  believe,  indeed,  I  am  Heaven-sent  to  you, 
my  sweet  Francesca." 

11  Whether  Heaven  or  an  Eagle  sent  you,  I 
know  not ;  but  however  it  may  have  happened, 
it  was  a  happy  hour  for  both." 

"  Nay,  it  was  more  happy  still  for  me  than  you, 
for  have  I  not  your  love  ?" 

She  hung  down  her  head  in  silence ;  but  I 
looked  into  her  violet  blue  eyes,  and  saw  her  heart 
imaged  in  their  light. 

"  But  how  came  it  that  you  have  learned  all 
these  wonderful  things?  You  are  not  much 
older  than  myself." 

"  I  have  always  been  a  hard  worker,  Francesca ; 
and  I  have  had  hard  teachers,  too,  and  of  late  a 
sage  one ;  but  best  of  all  are  you." 

u  Why  what  could  I  teach  you,  Zala-Mayna  ?" 

"The  flower  and  fruit  of  knowledge — endur- 
ance of  life,  of  man.  Until  I  knew  you  I  hated 
myself — I  haled  almost  everyone  in  the  world. 
I  disbelieved  in  virtue,  for  I  had  never  seen  any ; 
I  had  no  faith  in  truth,  or  honesty,  or  chastity. 
My  whole  existence  was  poisoned.  I  believe 
I  cursed  God  for  letting  me  come  into  being. 
But  now  I  bless  Him,  and  I  begin  to  feel  that 
love,  and  charity,  and  soft-eyed  gentleness  are 
germinating  in  my  heart;  and  I  could  even  for- 
give my  enemies  their  crimes." 

vol.  it.  o 


26  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

"  And  what  crimes  have  they  committed  against 
you,  Zala-Mayna?" 

"  The  worst — the  crimes  of  blind,  unreasoning 
hatred,  for  no  cause  ;  a  mother's  detestation — a 
father's  cold  forgetfulness — a  sister's  enmity. 
Why  am  I  an  exile  and  a  wanderer  ?  Why  am  I 
the  associate  of  these  wild  people  ?  For  I  am 
not  of  their  breed,  or  blood,  or  kindred.  Why  ? 
— but  because  I  have  been  wronged,  like  Ishmael, 
and  like  Ishmael's  glorious  children  may  I  have 
revenge." 

u  Oh,  Zala-Mayna,  you  frighten  me.  Said  you 
not  but  now  that  love  and  gentleness  were  in 
your  heart  ?     Whither  are  they  gone  ?" 

iC  One  word  of  thine,  Francesca,  brings  them 
back.  When  I  have  wedded  thee,  I  will  put  reins 
over  my  proud  heart.  I  will  go  home  and  seek 
my  father ;  I  will  fall  on  my  knees  before  him. 
I  will  present  my  angel  to  him.  He  will  see  and 
love  thee;  he  will  forgive  the  past;  he  will 
embrace  his  son ;  he  will  take  us  to  his  heart  and 
home.  Then  shall  my  Francesca  assume  her  pro- 
per place ;  then  shall  we  unveil  the  treacherous 
kinsman  who  has  robbed  her." 

The  sun  grew  faint  and  dark  as  I  spoke  these 
words;  his  disk  was  covered  with  a  dun  cloud;  a 
chill — a  foreboding  crept  over  my  spirit.  What ! 
was  this  blessing  then  to  be  denied  ?  I  shuddered  ; 


EDWARD  W0RTLE7.  MONTAGU.        27 

I  dared  not  think  it  would  be  so.  Had  God  wholly 
left  me  ? 

"  That  will  be  indeed  pleasant,  Zala-Mayna. 
Bat  I  would  not  have  thee  count  upon  success  in 
restoring  me  to  that  which  I  have  lost.  It  will 
not  weaken  thy  love,  dearest,  if  it  fail  ?" 

"  No,  Francesca,  my  love  is  for  ever,  as  I  hope 
thine  is." 

"  And  so  is  my  love,  also,  Zala-Mayna ;  for 
you  are  all  the  world  to  me.  Before  I  knew  thee, 
I  was  dead.  Now  I  am  alive  and  happy.  If  my 
life  could  serve  thee,  I  would  give  it.  For  you 
have  given  me  more  than  life;  you  have  given 
me  a  soul,  which  I  had  not  until  I  knew  and 
learned  from  thee." 

Thus  we  talked  and  speculated — and  Nemesis, 
I  suppose,  heard  us,  and  laughed  behind  that 
dan  cloud.  And  what  is  Nemesis?  Have  you 
ever  thought,  wise  student? 

Mach  of  our  time  was  spent  on  the  water.  1 
had  put  together  a  rude  boat,  which  was  just 
capable  of  containing  three  persons^myself, 
Francesca,  and  a  young  britana,  who  sometimes 
accompanied  us.  The  boat  carried  a  small  sail, 
and  from  long  practice  I  had  grown  fearless,  and 
cared  not  what  winds  blew,  or  waves  rolled  • 
secure  in  a  sort  of  consciousness  of  invulnera- 
bility which  has  always  accompanied  me,  and  I 

c  2 


28  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

believe  preserved  me  through  the  greatest  dangers, 
I  have  never  yet  been  wounded,  and  I  know  I 
never  shall.     Yet  I  have  passed  through  war  and 
terror  more  than  most  men,  and  have  wrestled 
for  life  in  dreadful  conflict  on  the  land  and  sea. 
What  life  can  be  compared  to  this  ?  life  in  the 
free  open  beam  of  Nature,  amid  her  hills,  and  by 
her  waters,  beneath  her  blue  and  smiling  skies, 
and  her  stars  of  lights  ?      The  very  atmosphere 
seemed  loaded  with  purity ;    the  whole  aspect  of 
all  that  was  around  us   seemed  ineffably  sacred. 
Our   tent  existence    was  a   dark,    prosaio   spot, 
indeed,  in   this  delicious  picture,  for  there  we 
came  in  contact  with  strange  and  wild  characters, 
now  homely,  now  earth-born  in  the    extreme; 
but  when  we  were  away  in  the  silent,  green,  and 
lonely  Downs,  on  which  the  sun  glittered  with  re- 
splendent softness,  and  over  which  the  choir  of 
lurks,  and  blackbirds,  and  thrushes  warbled  with 
the  wildest  melody, and  in  strains  that  poured  glad- 
ness through  the  vital  being ;   when  we  reclined 
among  the  wild  thyme,  or  amid  beds  of  violets, 
and  heath,  and  clover  with  which  the  place  was 
filled,  and  gazed  upon  the  solemn,  grand,  majestic 
wall  of  ocean  in  the  sapphire  distance,  over  which 
the  silver  sea-gull  twinkled,  or  some  solitary  ship 
moved  in  full  sail ;  or  when  we  looked  aloft  into 
the  purple  heaven  above  us,   and  fashioned   to 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  29 

ourselves  the  fancy  of  some  lovely  sphere  to 
which  our  spirits  might  ascend,  and  go  through 
scenes  of  wonder,  and  delight,  and  rare  achieve- 
ment— then,  indeed,  we  were  most  happy ;  for 
we  were  far  removed  from  all  that  makes  actual 
life  a  thing  of  dullness  and  routine,  except  in 
those  fiery  passages  of  war,  or  travel,  or  adven- 
ture, which  are  so  rare,  and  so  exciting.  To  pass 
one's  time  with  Nature  is  always  sweet ;  this  the 
anchorites  of  old  felt;  her  heavenly  calm  im- 
penetrates our  essence  and  makes  us  like  herself; 
but  when  love  like  ours  becomes  a  portion  of  the 
life  so  passed,  there  is  no  dweller  in  a  palace,  or 
wearer  of  a  crown  whom  I  would  envy  for  a 
moment.  And  ye,  O  green  and  shining  waters, 
receive,  I  pray  ye,  the  gratitude  of  my  soul.  To 
ye  I  owe  most  fervent  thanks  for  days  and 
evenings  of  delight,  when  my  spirit  became  a 
part  of  yours  ;  and  I  felt  that  holy  kindred  with 
the  Universal  of  which  ye  are  so  bright  a  portion. 
We  sailed  along  a  little  lagune  which  flows  up 
just  below  the  green  meadows,  where,  under  the 
arch  of  a  few  old  trees,  our  camp  was  pitched ; 
we  bore  our  light  skiff  over  the  barrier  of  beach 
which  divided  this  from  the  open  sea,  and 
launched  it  on  its  purple  bosom.  The  gentle 
winds  filled  the  white  sail,  and  wafted  us 
smoothly  into  the  full  ocean  ;    there  we  cast  our 


30  EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

nets  and   snared  the  fish,  or  mnsed  over  some 
favourite  volume,  for  I  had  now  procured  a  few 
books ;  and  Tasso,  Ariosto,  and   Dante  became 
alike  companions  of  our  love-winged  hours.     We 
lived  again  in  the  days  of  knighthood  and  en- 
chantment.    We  meditated  on  the  spirit-secrets 
of   the  Dark   Unknown,   to   which  the    lonely 
Florentine  led  us  as  it  were  in  dream.     I  told 
her  of  my  past  life,   its   follies,  failings,    and 
aspirations.     I   recounted   the  odd   scenes   into 
which  chance  had  thrown  me,  and  contrasted  the 
drawing-room,   or  the   assembly,   their  artificial 
lights  and  poison-breathing  flowers,  and  hollow 
habitants,  with  that  in  which  we  now  moved.    As 
we  both  reflected  more  and  more  on  the  falseness 
that  is  the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  towns 
and  polite  people,  we  turned  to  each  other  with 
renewed  happiness  ;  and  feeling  all  the  rapture  of 
our  situation  on  which  no  evil  eye  intruded,  on 
which  no  female  tongue  vented  its   venom,  on 
which  no  snake-like  heart  effused  its  malice,  we 
thanked  the  errant  chance  that  had  thus  brought 
together  two  spirits  so  congenial,  fervent,  and 
united. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  31 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


•  ' c  My  dove,  my  undefiled  is  but  one ;  she  is  the  only  one  of  her 
mother,  she  is  the  choice  one  of  her  that  bare  her,  and  they 
blessed  her,  yea  the  queens  and  the  concubines,  and  they  praised 
her.  Who  is  She  that  looketh  forth  as  the  Morning,  fair  as  the 
Moon,  clear  as  the  Sun  ?" 


He  who  hath  not  known  love  let  him  die.  To 
him  the  great  Mysteries  of  Life  are  a  sealed 
volume.  He  is  but  half  a  man ;  and  when  he 
passes  away  from  earth  he  passes  as  an  incom- 
plete being,  whose  mission  among  his  brethren 
has  been  unfulfilled.  For  there  is  no  passion 
that  awakens  the  heart  and  evokes  its  mystic 
faculties  but  this.  Ambition — I  have  felt  it,  but  it 
is  a  base  and  selfish  feeling ;  its  every  energy  is 
concentrated  into  one  focus,  for  the  individual 
advancement  of  the  labourer,  the  two-legged 
mite,   who  wishes    to  be    worshipped  by  other 


32  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

mites.     Avarice  is  the  same ;  the  pride  of  know- 
ledge is  also  a  poor  selfish  thing ;  but  love  alone 
is  a  dual  divinity ;  its  hopes,  efforts,  and  objects 
are  all  shared  with  another,  and  that  other  is  the 
better   and  purer  half   of  our   own    nature.     0 
woman  !  how  true,  how  noble,  how  heavenly  a 
being  thou  art !     I  have  read  and  heard  of  men 
at  whose  name  the  world   bows  the  knee,  and 
have  been  taught  to  think  in  honour  of  their 
heroism  ;  but  the  true,  the  sole,  the  great  and 
perfect  heroic,  exists  in  Woman  only — or  if  there 
be  an  exception  among  Men,  it  is  only   that  it 
may  prove  the  rule  to  be  true  which  I  have  first 
enunciated.     There  have  been  moments  when  I 
would  have  curled  the  lip  at  any  man  who  spake 
this  truth,  and  sneered  him  down  as  most  un- 
worthy of  his  race ;  when    I  would  have  smitten 
him  to  the  dust  with  a  mocking  glance   and   a 
satirical  smile,  as  one  but  fitted  to  comb  a  lap- 
dog,  or  be  " brained  by  my  lady's  fan;"  but  in 
the  confessions  of  my  heart  I  will  not  lie,  nor 
deceive  myself  or  others.     I  will  put  forth  the 
broadly  honest  opinions  of  my  soul,  founded  upon 
experience  and  reflections.     Man  is  intellectually 
superior,  but  morally  inferior  to  Woman  ;  and  all 
the  great  things  of  the  earth  will  be  found  on  ex- 
amination to  have  been  inspired,  fostered,  and 
fed  under  the  sunshine  of  female  auspices. 


EDWARD  WOKTLEY  MONTAGU.        33 

It  would  be  easy  to  prove  this,  by  reference  to 
history  and  biography ;  but  this  is  not  a  disquisi- 
tion. Let  him  who  questions  it  enquire  with  an 
honest  spirit,  and  he  will  find  that  I  am  right. 
He  will  trace  back  every  noble  discovery,  either 
in  art  or  science  ;  every  holy  principle  of  philan- 
thropy that  has  been  reduced  into  practical  action  ; 
every  institution  that  redeems  earth  from  ignominy, 
and  gives  a  glimpse  of  the  Paradise  Gardens  from 
which  we  are  hapless  exiles,  to  the  guiding  in- 
fluence of  sacred  Woman.  From  her  the  philoso- 
pher has  learned  the  truest  love ;  the  soldier  the 
most  lofty  courage;  the  navigator  the  rarest 
patience ;  the  poet  the  purest  sentiment.  Open 
the  historic  page,  and  every  line  is  full  of  feminine 
devotion  and  grandeur  of  soul,  faithfulness  in 
affliction,  courage  in  misfortune,  wisdom  in  the 
midst  of  danger,  hope  when  whirled  in  the  eddies 
of  despair.  Accursed  ever  be  the  wretch  who 
injures  but  in  thought  one  of  this  sacred  race 
of  beings.  May  God  eternally  exclude  him  from 
light,  and  mankind  spit  upon  him,  living  as  well 
as  dead.  This  is  my  prayer.  So  be  it !  So  be 
it! 

Think  not,  O  grave  and  stolid  man,  that  I  am 
an  enthusiast  because  I  have  known  and  loved 
one  perfect  woman.  I  know  the  sanity  of  that 
species  of  philosophy  which  judges  generally  from 

o  5 


34  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

units.  I  know  how  wild  would  be  the  delusion 
of  supposing  that  all  women  are  alike  great  and 
holy,  because  I  happen  to  be  acquainted  with  one 
who  combined  within  herself  greatness  and  holi- 
ness. I  have  not  said  that  all  women  are  alike  ; 
I  should  be  mad  if  I  were  to  say  it.  I  have  met 
women  that  were  baser  than  wolves.  I  have  not 
compared  all  women  with  my  Francesca.  I  should 
be  a  dupe  or  a  liar  if  I  had  done  so,  for  I  have 
seen  some  that  were  as  fiends.  But  all  that  I 
have  said  implies  this  and  no  more,  that  compar- 
ing Woman  with  Man,  the  former  is  immeasure- 
ably  his  superior  in  all  that  elevates  our  race 
above  mere  earthliness  ;  and  that  Men  would  be  a 
horde  of  savages,  or  worse,  if  they  were  not 
humanised,  and  even  etherealised  by  the  benign 
influence  of  Women.  I  know  that  men  have  be- 
come effeminate,  and  women  have  become  detes- 
table, when  female  power  was  in  the  ascendant 
over  the  male,  as  it  is  in  France  at  this  moment ; 
but  I  speak  not  of  a  state  of  things  which  is  the 
result  of  vice,  but  that  which  is  the  inevitable 
consequence  of  virtue. 

Let  me  have  done,  however,  with  moralising. 
It  is  at  all  times  dull  work,  and  never  more  so 
than  when  introduced  into  a  Life  Story,  which 
must  depend  upon  its  facts  for  its  value.  This 
book  is  a  record  of     things  that  actually  took 


EDWARD    WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  35 

place.    Let  those  who  will,  draw  their  own  lessons 
from  the  circumstances  narrated ;  and  if  they  do 
not  like  my  conclusions,  let  them  adopt  their  own 
as  better.     I  shall  not  quarrel   with  them,  but 
leave  them  to  their  self  applause.     I  have  lived 
too  long  and  seen  too  much  to  regard  myself  as 
anything  but  most  fallible ;  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  for  one  sensible  thing  I  may  say  or  write,  I 
both  avow  and  think  fifty  foolish  ones.     I  claim 
credit  only  for  this — that  in  all  I  say  I  am  sincere ; 
and  that  if  I  am  constrained  to  appear  undutiful 
or  severe   in  portraying  the  lineaments  of  one 
woman,  her  who  gave  me  birth,   it  is  from  no 
hatred  of  the  sex,  but  from  scorn  of  one  who  in 
reality  was  of  no  sex,  but  a  heartless  being  de- 
void  of  all   true   or   natural  feeling.      I   never 
wronged  her,  yet  she   always  loathed   me ;  she 
laboured  all  her  life  to  destroy  me  as  far  as  she 
could ;  and  she  carried  her  hatred  with  her  to  the 
grave.     I  have  endeavoured  to  forgive  her ;  but 
when  I  sat  down  to  compose  this  volume,  I  was 
resolved  to  write  my  very  soul  itself  in  every  page ; 
and  what  a  rascal  should  I  have  been  if  I  had 
spared  this  woman,  and  written  down,  a  heap  of 
lies  because,  forsooth,  she  gave  me  birth ! 

The  sun  shines  sweetly  in  the  heaven ;  I  see 
the  sparkling  distant  sea,  lit  by  ten  million 
glittering  splendours.     The  rich  blue  sky  canopies 


36        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

the  deep  waters  ;  all  is  peace,  beauty,  and  divine- 
ness.  I  lean  back  in  my  chair  and  let  my  thoughts 
wander  back  into  the  Past.  I  dream  a  dream  of 
exquisite  fancy.  A  series  of  pictures  rises  up 
before  my  memory  like  those  that  gleam  upon 
us  as  we  muse  over  Spenser's  Faerie  Queen ; 
but  they  are  indescribable.  Their  evanescent 
tints  are  gone  before  I  can  commit  them  to  the 
dull  paper.  I  cast  my  eyes  backwards,  far,  far 
over  my  whole  pilgrimage,  and  it  is  a  varied 
one  ;  but  is  at  times  brightened  by  sweet  scenes. 
Those  of  early  youth  are  perhaps  alone  the 
pleasantest — yet  are  not  they  wholly  without  a 
cloud  ? 

0  Francesca !  my  own,  my  loved,  my  fond 
twin-heart ! — where  art  thou  now  ?  Shinest  thou 
upon  me  from  the  heaven  of  light,  where  alone 
thy  dwelling  place  can  be  ?  Hast  thou  revisited 
earth  to  bring  me  comfort  in  my  loneliness? 
Oh  !  where  art  thou  ?  Thou  seest  how  T  love 
thee — albeit,  thou  art  lost  to  mine  embrace; 
yet  in  thy  pure  spirit  must  abide  one  strong  con- 
viction, that  thou  alone  wert  as  my  soul's  second 
self,  and  that  losing  thee  I  lost  all.  I  dream  of 
thee  on  my  lonely  couch  ;  in  the  day  when  I  walk 
forth  I  see  and  feel  thee  in  the  surrounding:  sun- 
shine.  When  the  bright  and  warm  rays  play 
around   me,  methinks   it   is    thy   clasp   I   feel; 


EDWARD  WORTLEf  MONTAGU.        37 

when  the  stars  glitter  over  me  at  midnight  me- 
thinks  it  is  thy  smile,  thy  vigilant  eye  of  love 
that  effuses  its  beam  above  my  form,  and  beckons 
me  to  yonder  glowing  spheres.  I  move  upon 
the  ocean,  and  I  am  conscious  of  thy  presence ; 
I  wander  into  the  mountain,  and  I  know  that 
thou  art  there ;  a  magnetic  effluence  from  all 
surrounding  beautiful  objects  glides  through  me, 
and  speaks  to  me  of  thee.  Music ; — when  I  hearken 
to  it,  it  is  thy  witching  speech  I  hear ;  the  rain- 
bow ; — when  I  look  upon  it,  it  is  thy  softening 
presence ;  the  breath  of  flowers,  when  they  charm 
me ; — it  is  thy  breath  I  feel ;  the  wind  whispers 
amid  the  pine  trees,  and  lo  !  it  is  thy  voice  that 
calls  to  me  from  heaven.  When  I  recall  those  bye- 
gone  days,  how  beautifully  they  revive  in  heavenly 
brightness.  Methinks  I  was  a  spirit  then — now 
I  am  a  man ;  a  mere  man  of  base,  muddy  flesh 
and  blood — all  over  animal,  all  over  earthliness, 
unetherealized,  disenchanted.  I  can  scarcely 
fancy  that  I  am  the  same.  Am  I  the  same? 
Answer  me,  O  Heaven;  or  if  thou  wilt  not, 
answer  me  some  other  Power.  My  feelings, 
sentiments,  sensations,  are  all  so  altered  from 
what  they  have  been.  I  have  grown  so  thoroughly 
wordly  and  animal-like  that  I  can  almostbelieve  the 
wild  theory  of  those  who  tell  us  every  man  is  two* 
fold — half  an  angel,  half  a  demon  ;  and  that  as 


38  EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

the  influence  of  each  predominates,  so  is  his  life 
shaped.  In  those  days  I  feel  that  I  was  pure. 
In  her  presence  I  was  a  spirit  worthy  of  the 
Divine  Presence.  All  my  thoughts  were  high 
and  august.  I  could  no  more  have  conceived  an 
impure  idea  when  my  loved  Francesca  was  beside 
me  than  I  could  have  risen  up  and  blasphemed 
God ;  for  she  was  purity  itself.  It  is  said  that 
the  most  venemous  serpent  is  dazzled  and  blinded 
by  the  light  of  the  emerald.  Even  so  is  it  with 
the  most  wicked  man  in  the  presence  of  a  virgin 
wholly  chaste  in  thought  as  God  himself.  Such 
was  Francesca,  and  such  was  the  spell  which 
sanctified  our  love. 

We  were  entirely  isolated  from  all  the  world. 
Over  the  gypsies  she  seemed  silently  to  hold  some 
wondrous  spell.  She  was  among  them,  but  not 
of  them.  Generally  speaking,  they  are  not  much 
inclined  to  yield  submission  to  the  stranger — but 
Francesca  appeared  to  exercise  even  over  the 
rudest,  some  mysterious  mighty  influence.  They 
did  not  accost  her  as  they  were  used  to  accost 
others  ;  to  me  also  they  manifested  a  sort  of 
savage  deference ;  and  as  it  were  by  common 
consent,  we  were  unmolested  in  all  things.  The 
lonely  Downs  were  ever  ours ;  the  green  dales,  in 
which  only  were  a  few  wandering  sheep,  formed 
our  favourite  walk.     When  the  sun  was  bright, 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  39 

we  crept  into  a  shepherd's  hut,  and  looked  upon 

the  distant  sea,  which  seemed  to  rear  its  sapphire 

sparkling  wall  against  the  land.     But  for  some 

wandering  barque,   it  would  have   resembled  a 

solid  barrier  of  glittering  gems.     Here  also  was 

our  shelter  when  the  rain  fell — but  this  is  a  rare 

event    in    this    southern    clime.       What    was 

our    employment    in    those  hours,  it    may    be 

asked  ?     In  truth  we  had  none.     We  sat  silent ; 

we  sat   entranced.       For    both   it  was   delight 

enough  to  hold   the  hand  within  the  hand;   to 

look  into  the    eyes,    and  give  utterance  to    the 

heart  in  a  sigh ;  to  breathe   some  simple  vow  of 

love  into  the  ear ;  to  watch  the  light  that  beamed 

in  the  happy  smile,  or  the  lustre  that  played  over 

the  rosy  lip,  and  then  fall  back  into  mute  reverie. 

Love  scenes  are  said  to  be  tedious  in  description. 

No  wonder,  for  there  is  nothing  in  them  that  can 

be   described.      They    are  all  such  as   I    have 

narrated. 

But  there  was  one  feeling,  which  above  all 
others  was  deeply  impressed  upon  the  heart  of 
this  sweet  and  dreaming  child  of  beauty — the 
feeling  of  Religion — let  me  add,  without  pre- 
sumption, that  I  laboured  all  I  could  to  foster  it ; 
for  without  dependence  and  belief  in  God,  what 
is  man,  and  what  is  life  9  Heaven  knows  I  am 
no  puritan,  and  my  career  has  been  wild,  way- 


40        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

ward,  and  eccentric,  but  never  have  I  forgot  Him 
who  is  above  all;  nor  ever  have  1  ceased  to 
breathe  this  name  into  the  heart  of  any  who 
would  listen.  But  my  Francesca  was  naturally 
pious  and  good.  Her  pure  and  heavenly  heart 
was  in  harmony  with  pure  and  heavenly  things. 
Akiba  had  given  a  solemn  tinge  to  my  own  mind ; 
the  old  man  had  so  long  outlived  the  vanities  of 
earth,  and  had  so  fully  experienced  that  in  life 
there  is,  after  all,  nothing  certain  but  the  Future, 
and  the  Lord  of  the  Future,  that  he  had  often 
checked  my  youthful  folly,  and  brought  me  back 
from  mere  earthliness  to  themes  of  heaven  and 
immortal  life.  I  was  a  boy,  indeed — yet  I  hope 
with  feelings  that  were  not  wholly  boyish ;  and 
though  X  could  not  venture  to  dictate  to  her,  yet 
I  could  direct  her  thoughts  where  they  needed  it 
But  they  flowed  naturally  into  religion,  holiness, 
and  purity.  She  was  unperplexed  by  schools  or 
systems ;  her  religion  was  the  outpouring  of  the 
heart  to  God  in  gratitude,  in  veneration,  in  faith  ; 
the  three  essentials  which,  as  it  seems  to  me,  con- 
stitute the  whole  secret  of  the  truly  religious 
spirit.  She  loved  Him  not  because  of  liturgies 
or  theories,  but  because  she  felt  he  deserved  her 
love — and  the  love  of  all  his  creatures,  no  matter 
how  lowly  they  may  be. 

She  lifted  up  her  sweet  eyes  to  Heaven,  and 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  41 

saw  the  Supreme  everywhere — in  His  golden, 
beaming  stars,  peopled  with  everlasting  exis- 
tences ;  in  His  rainbow,  which  we  are  told  is  the 
canopy  of  His  everlasting  throne  of  splendour — 
in  His  moon,  the  nearest  of  all  His  spheres  to  this 
our  wandering  earth — bright  luminary  of  the 
blue  heaven,  whose  presence  is  like  soft  music  to 
the  contemplative  heart ;  in  His  sun,  that  emblem 
of  himself,  which  ever  and  ever  revolves  in  light 
and  beauty,  and  brings  happiness  and  health 
whenever  he  appears.  For  did  she  recognize  the 
Holy  One  in  these  only — they  are  such  vast  and 
wondrous  evidences  that  they  flash  conviction 
even  upon  the  dullest.  But  in  the  minutest  of 
His  works  she  saw  Him  not  less  clearly  mani- 
fested. The  mountain  towering  in  sublime 
grandeur  was  not  more  clearly  indicative  of  His 
power,  than  the  little  mite  which  ran  over  the 
leaf,  and  which  in  the  minutest  form  presented 
all  the  functions  of  a  living  being,  with  heart, 
brain,  eyes,  veins,  and  muscles — may  I  add,  a 
soul.  For  who  can  doubt  every  living  thing  is 
immortal  and  can  never  die  ?  The  blue  and  silver 
arch  of  heaven  every  moment  presenting  new  and 
glorious  aspects,  was  not  a  more  certain  demon- 
stration of  the  Eternal  One,  than  the  leaf  of  the 
rose  tree,  which  shewed  in  its  minute  ramifica- 


42  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

tions  of  veins,  and  nerves,  and  arteries,  the 
astonishing  benevolence  of  God,  who  wills  not 
that  even  a  bit  of  herbage  shall  be  without  its 
happiness ;  and  who  provides  for  that  happiness 
by  giving  it  all  those  fine  and  delicate  fibres  of 
organization  which  are  of  the  same  nature  as  those 
that  pervade  the  brain  and  heart  of  man,  and  lift 
him  from  the  earth  to  God. 

One  day  she  fell  on  her  knees  before  me.  I 
had  been  wayward,  foolish,  inconsiderate,  impor- 
tunate. Methinks  I  see  her  now.  Her  hat  was 
half  suspended  on  her  shoulders ;  her  hair  in  wild 
ringlets  hung  down  her  snowy  neck ;  her  white 
robe  shone  like  the  raiment  of  some  celestial 
spirit  But  her  eyes — who  can  paint  their 
heavenly  expression  of  sadness,  passion,  and 
undying  fondness  ?  She  wept  ;  she  held  my 
hands  in  hers  ;  she  kissed  them  a  thousand  times  ; 
she  hung  her  head  on  my  lap.  Her  look,  so  full 
of  loveliness,  besought  love,  sympathy,  protec- 
tion. The  sunshine  fell  around  us  in  golden 
showers ;  the  birds  sang ;  the  heaven  rejoiced  in 
light ;  the  distant  ocean  sparkled  like  one  of  the 
rivers  of  Indra ;  the  wind  bore  the  fragrance  of 
the  violets  that  were  thickly  bedded  on  the 
adjoining  hillock.  I  raised  her  to  my  heart;  I 
folded  her  as  if  I  should  never  lose  her  again. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       43 

What  mighty  passion  then  convulsed  our  souls  ? 
Either  would  at  that  moment  have  sacrificed  life 
for  the  welfare  of  each  other. 

u  My  own  darling  Edward,"  she  said,  "  say 
again,  and  again,  that  you  will  never  leave 
me  ?" 

"Never,  Francesca — never  will  I  leave  thee 
while  life  lasts." 

u  Yet  I  feel  a  sad  presentiment  of  evil.  Do  you 
believe  in  presentiments?" 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me,  dearest,  if  you  are 
certain  of  my  love  ?" 

"  Yes — I  am  certain  of  your  love,  but  this  con- 
dition seems  too  heavenly  to  last,  and  my  heart 
is  sad,  and  my  hopes  are  clouded." 

"  Love  me,  and  then  you  will  not  be  sad." 

u  Oh  !  I  cannot  love  you  more  than  I  now  do. 
It  is  the  very  force  of  my  love  that  makes  me  fear 
we  shall  be  parted." 

u  Fear  not,  my  Francesca — but  even  if  we  are, 
know  that  it  will  be  but  for  a  time.  Your  soul 
and  mine  are  one.  Nothing  can  disunite  them. 
Death  may  separate,  but  after  death — there  is 
God—" 

"  Well  then,  I  shall  hope  on — convinced  that 
death,  if  nothing  else,  will  make  us  one." 

"  In  that  hope  abide,  my  own  love,  and  then 
nothing  can  make  you  sad." 


44        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

And  hand  in  hand  we  descended  from  the 
Downs,  and  launched  our  little  boat.  The  wind 
blew  freshly;  we  sped  along  the  lagune,  and 
watched  the  wavering  sail  and  flitting  clouds, 
and  she  nestled  by  my  side,  as  with  a  guiding 
hand  I  managed  sheet  and  rudder.  We  passed 
out  into  the  deep  waters.  The  waves  rose  in 
azure  light  above  our  prow  ;  there  was  an  emerald 
track  behind  us  where  we  had  cut  the  green  and 
yielding  sea.  We  went  out  into  the  deep  waters. 
It  was  little  more  than  noon.  All  was  still,  sunny, 
heavenly,  bright.  The  ocean  was  like  a  sleeping 
child.  The  sun  gleamed  on  the  verdant  laughing 
hills  ;  the  far  off  cottages  and  villas  sparkled  like 
snow  on  the  distant  shore.  Every  feature  of  the 
scene  was  placid  and  delightful.  We  saw  the 
sauntering  horseman  glide  along  the  inland  high- 
way; we  watched  the  sea-birds  skimming  over 
the  marble-like  face  of  ocean  ;  we  leaned  back  in 
the  boat  and  were  happy,  if  ever  children  of  the 
earth  were  happy. 

Thus  the  lazy  hours  passed,  and  thus  it  was 
for  months.  On  land,  we  chased  the  butterfly, 
or  gathered  thyme ;  on  sea  we  cast  our  nets,  and 
captured  the  many-coloured  fish.  And  books 
also  were  our  companions ;  and  when  books  tired, 
Francesca  sang,  and  sweetly  rolled  her  voice  over 
those  blue  waters.     The  echo  entered  my  soul ; 


EDWARD  WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  45 

it  melted  my  very  heart.  I  was  like  a  spirit  of 
love  embodied  in  human  form.  At  times  too,  we 
brought  a  flute  with  us,  and  as  I  had  acquired 
some  skill  in  playing,  I  often  made  the  distant 
Downs  re-echo  the  soft  melody,  that  floated  along 
the  sea  like  some  water  nymph.  Meanwhile  our 
wandering  boat  skimmed  listlessly  about,  we 
cared  not  how  or  whither.  When  we  got  into 
deep  water,  I  furled  the  sail,  and  gave  her  up  to 
chance  to  waft  her  as  it  willed.  There  was  a 
wild  excitement  in  thus  surrendering  our  souls  to 
the  present,  and  living  in  the  summer  day  sun- 
shine without  a  thought  or  care.  And  when  we 
woke  out  of  our  ecstatic  dreams,  it  often  hap- 
pened that  we  found  ourselves  far  and  far  away 
from  land,  and  reached  the  shore  at  night  with 
difficulty. 

On  one  of  these  excursions  the  sun  had  been 
particularly  powerful ;  not  a  breath  stirred  the 
sea.  Our  boat  lay  still  as  if  she  had  been 
fastened  into  the  solid  emerald ;  there  was  not 
wind  enough  even  to  lift  the  light  vane  that  she 
carried  at  her  mast  head.  We  were  weary.  1 
pulled  the  sail  over  our  heads,  and  we  lay  down 
in  each  other's  arms.  We  mused  awhile,  and 
then  fell  asleep.  And  a  dream  appeared  above 
us.  A  fair  woman,  but  her  eyes  were  sad,  and 
there  was  sorrow  painted  in  her  face ;  she  gazed 


46        EDWAKD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

on  us  for  a  long  time  with  an  indescribable  look 
of  love  and  hope,  and  tenderness,  and  light.  A 
whole  eventful  life  was  written  in  her  clear  brown 
eyes ;  my  heart  yearned  towards  her  with  a  strange 
sympathy.  She  was  richly  dressed,  but  with  a 
simple  air,  devoid  of  art.  After  contemplating 
us  in  silence,  she  beckoned  as  it  were  upwards, 
and  I  heard  in  soft  voice,  the  words  ;  "  Come  and 
see."  And  suddenly  beside  her  stood  a  man,  not 
very  tall,  but  with  a  commanding  presence,  and 
noble  bearing.  She  cast  her  eyes  downwards 
upon  us  and  smiled ;  he  also  did  the  same,  and 
each  looked  upon  the  other,  and  a  heavenly  ray 
played  over  their  features.  They  now  stood  by 
my  side,  and  my  heart  seemed  gladdened.  I  felt 
an  invisible  energy  within  that  seemed  to  uplift 
me  from  the  sea,  and  to  transport  me  into  a 
distant  sphere.  Then  Francesca  rose  up,  I  knew 
not  whence,  for  I  had  not  befor  e  seen  her,  and 
she  stood  between  them,  and  they  kissed  her  with 
a  holy  fondness,  and  each  taking  a  hand,  they 
led  her  towards  me,  and  placed  her  in  my  arms, 
and  I  thought  I  heard  these  words,  "  Take  her, 
she  is  thine,  guard  her  as  the  app  le  of  thine  eye, 
for  no  purer,  fairer  being  breathes  the  breath  of 
life.  We  give  her  to  thee  for  thine  own,  for 
thou  hast  saved  her,  and  we  know  that  in  thy 
heart  she  is  the   shrined  and  loved  one."     And 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        47 

the  dream  was  gone  and  we  awoke,  both  in  the 
same  instant,  and  I  told  her  what  I  had  seen, 
and  we  knew  that  it  was  a  vision  of  those  who 
had  given  her  birth,  and  of  whom  we  yet  knew 
nothing. 


48  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


"  Then  a  Spirit  passed  before  my  face  ;  the  hair  of  my  flesh  stood 
up;  it  stood  still,  but  I  could  not  discover  the  form  thereof;  an 
image  was  before  mine  eyes  ;  there  was  silence,  and  I  heard  a 


voice." 


-And  now  I  became  filled  with  an  intense  desire 
to  know  the  secret  of  her  birth  and  history. 
Francesca  remembered  nothing  herself ;  she  had 
been  stolen  away  at  a  period  when  memory  can 
scarcely  be  said  to  exist.  I  often  questioned  her, 
but  she  strove  in  vain  to  recall  a  glimpse  of  her 
early  life.  At  length  I  mentioned  my  perplexity 
to  Akiba.     He  listened  and  made  answer — 

"  To  me  this  is  not  difficult.  Bring  her 
hither." 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I   could  per- 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  49 

6uade  this  sweet  child  to  a  meeting  with  the  old 
man.  During  her  sojourn  with  the  nurse,  she 
had  heard  so  much  of  his  weird  and  eldritch 
powers,  exaggerated  as  all  such  things  are  by 
common  report,  that  she  dreaded  even  to  hear  him 
named.  But  what  will  not  a  lover's  lips  per- 
suade his  beloved  to  do?  She  consented  at 
length,  and  we  went  to  the  old  man's  tent.  It 
was  on  the  new  moon  eve  ;  no  one  else  was 
present.  We  found  him  sitting  in  a  corner  ap- 
parently in  reverie.  A  small  mukhooroo  or 
tabernacle  stood  in  the  centre  made  of  wicker- 
work,  and  over  it  was  placed  a  brass  image  of 
some  Indian  deity,  and  half  a  dozen  ancient 
looking  amulets.  There  was  also  an  earthen 
vessel  of  curious  shape,  in  which  frankincense, 
camphor,  and  other  precious  perfumes  were  alight 
and  burning.  The  old  man  having  a  twisted 
silken  sash  of  many  colours,  fumed  it  over  the 
smoking  fire,  and  bound  it  round  his  head,  and 
then  after  a  considerable  pause  chanted  words 
somewhat  in  the  following  fashion : — 

My  being  ia  filled  with  the  waren  of  the  Supreme, 
I  see  nought  else  but  the  All-knowing. 

0  wielder  of  the  all-beaming  light, 

Let  tby  Splendour  illuminate  thy  servant. 

Let  my  whole  form  be  made  luminous, 
My  heart,  my  soul,  my  brain,  my  spirit. 

VOL.   II.  D 


50  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 


My  being  is  filled  with  the  waren  of  the  Supreme, 
I  see  nought  else  but  the  All-knower. 

As  the  sun  puts  the  darkness  to  flight, 
Even  so  let  thy  Wisdom  dispel  ignorance 

That  I  may  penetrate  the  dim  Past, 

That  I  may  behold  the  secrets  of  former  days, 

That  I  may  view  imaged  the  hidden  d  eeds 
That  were  done  in  defiance  of  Thee. 

My  being  is  filled  with  the  waren  of  the  Supreme, 
1  see  nought  else  but  the  All-knower . 


Then  concentrating  his  gaze  with  a  fixed  stare 
upon  Francesca,  he  regarded  her  for  about  five 
minutes.  A  strange,  unearthly,  greenish  light 
glittered  in  his  eyes.  He  seemed  possessed.  His 
colour  came  and  went ;  now  his  cheeks  were  icy 
pale,  and  now  suffused  with  fire.  But  his  eyes 
never  lost  that  fixed  and  flaming  emerald-coloured 
splendour  which  I  have  since  seen  only  in  the 
eyes  of  a  hyena  in  the  midnight  hour.  Then  in  a 
hollow  voice  the  old  man  spake  these  words  — 

ul  see  a  noble-looking  man  in  the  flower  of 
life,  and  by  his  side  is  a  fair  bride.  They  pass 
from  the  gray  old  church ;  they  are  borne  through 
a  vast  park,  into  a  mansion  of  great  exteut ;  a 
double  line  of  servants  greets  them  with  many  a 
blessing.  They  are  followed  by  a  youuger  man, 
who  bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  first — a 
brother,  or  some  near   relative.     He  smiles  upon 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        51 

the  newly  married  pair,  and  offers  them  his  warm 
wishes.  But  I  see  into  his  heart;  there  is  a 
chalice  of  poison  hidden  there,  and  under  the 
chalice  there  is  the  symbol  of  a  serpeat.  Happy 
are  the  days  and  years  of  the  young  couple.  But 
one  blessing  only  is  denied.  They  have  no  child 
to  be  the  heir  of  their  vast  possessions.  They 
have  every  wish  gratified  but  this.  At  leagth  a 
child  is  born,  but  it  is  a  daughter.  Great  never- 
theless is  the  rejoicing  ;  the  brother  comes  and  is 
glad,  but  I  see  into  his  heart,  and  he  meditates 
death  or  some  other  evil.  And  friends  are  sum- 
moned from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  celebrate 
the  auspicious  birth,  and  there  are  young  heads 
crowned  with  flowers,  and  old  temples  mantled 
with  joy,  and  the  ancient  mansion  is  lit  up,  and 
all  is  splendour  and  festivity,  and  happiness,  for 
another  scion  of  that  noble  family  is  born,  and 
its  great  possessions  shall  not  pass  out  of  the 
direct  line.  And  the  husband  smiles  upon  his 
wife,  and  they  look  forward  to  years  of  happi- 
ness, and  anticipate  the  career  that  opens  for 
the  lovely  stranger  who  has  come  to  them  from 
God. 

66  And  some  years  pass,  and  the  babe  is  grown, 
and  is  the  beauty  of  the  whole  country ;  golden 
are  her  flowing  locks,  and  blue  her  eyes,  and  her 
skin  is  like  the  water-lotus  in  its  sunny  bright- 

D  2 


52  EDWARD  WOBTLEY  MONTAGU. 

ness ;  her  complexion  is  the  rainbow's  pink.  And 
proud  and  happy  are  the  parents  of  so  fair  a 
flower.  She  wanders  in  her  father's  garden — a 
lovely  place,  with  balustrades  of  marble,  and 
terraces  with  flowers,  and  fountains  launching 
their  silver  waters  into  the  sunny  air;  and  her 
father's  brother  is  by  her  side;  her  nurse  also  is 
there. 

"  It  is  night,  and  there  is  a  gypsy  tent,  and  the 
brother  comes  into  the  tent,  and  there  is  a  Calero 
waiting  for  him,  and  him  he  bribes  with  gold, 
and  the  Calero  gives  him  a  drug,  aud  the  two 
men  look  at  each  other  and  laugh,  and  the 
stranger  goes  away  smiling,  but  I  can  see  into 
his  heart,  and  I  do  not  like  the  root  from  which 
that  smile  springs. 

"  And  I  see  the  garden  once  again,  and  the 
little  one  is  crowned  with  flowers,  and  the  female 
attendant  who  is  always  with  her,  has  played  on 
a  mandoline,  and  sang  a  sweet  song  for  the  little 
one ;  and  she  rests  on  her  knee,  and  the  nurse 
pulls  a  silver  flask  out  of  her  pocket — she  knows 
not  that  it  has  been  drugged — and  she  tastes  it, 
and  instantly  she  is  wrapped  in  a  deep  and  death- 
like slumber.  And  from  behind  a  large  tree  the 
Calero  comes,  and  he  muffles  up  the  little  one, 
and  disappears ;  and  in  the  night  he  strikes  his 
tent,  and  is  away  at  a  great  distance. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  53 

"  And  on  the  day  after  a  letter  comes  to  the 
parents  of  the  little  one,  and  it  bears  a  foreign 
postmark,  France  or  Italy — I  see  not  which,  and 
it  announces  the  return  home  of  the  brother,  who 
has  been  absent  for  many  weeks.  And  no  one 
suspects  him  to  be  in  league  with  the  Calero  to 
rob  his  brother  of  the  child  who  stands  between 
himself  and  the  estate. 

"  But  they — I  see  them  stricken  with  a  mighty 
grief;  and  first  the  mother  pines  away.  Messen- 
gers have  gone  into  all  places,  but  no  tidings 
of  the  lost  one  are  heard.  The  nurse  is  ques- 
tioned ;  she  knows  only  of  the  death-like  slumber, 
during  which  her  charge  was  stolen,  or  wandered, 
and  was  lost.  The  child's  hat  is  found  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  and  this  gives  rise  to  a  report 
of  drowning,  and  the  river  is  searched  even  to  the 
mouth  of  the  sea,  but  no  body  is  discovered,  nor 
any  trace  or  rumour  of  the  lost  one.  And  the 
brother  arrives  from  a  foreign  land,  and  he  gives 
way  to  loud  lamentation — but  I  look  into  his 
heart,  and  I  can  see  at  the  bottom  of  it,  the 
chalice  of  poison  bubbling  high,  and  the  symbol 
of  the  serpent  coiling  itself  around  in  glee. 

"  There  is  an  open  tomb,  and  a  hearse  drawn 
by  four  horses,  and  a  coffin  covered  with  black 
velvet,  and  the  mother's  body  is  brought  forth 
and   deposited   in   the   ancestral   vault.     She  is 


54       EDWAKD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

followed  by  a  gray  and  stricken  man.  Can  this 
be  he  who  but  within  a  few  short  years  was  the 
brave  and  noble  looking  bridegroom  in  the  flower 
of  life  ?  Alas  it  is.  Six  months  passed,  and  he 
also  is  borne  forth  in  death.  Tesolation  sits  upon 
his  house. 

"  The  brother  has  become  the  lord  of  the  estate. 
The  Calero  is  departed ;  he  is  troubled  in  mind 
lest  the  Calero  may  restore  her  again,  and  blast 
his  prospects  and  his  place.  But  years  pass  and 
the  Calero  comes  not.  He  feels  contented. 
Suddenly  he  receives  a  letter.  A  new  Calero 
comes  and  threatens  him  with  disgrace.  He 
bargains  with  him  for  gold  to  deliver  up  the  girl. 
The  compact  is  made.  They  meet ;  the  meeting 
fails ;  the  Calero  is  in  death ;  the  usurping  lord 
flies  away  in  terror.  1  see  the  semblance  of  two 
whom  I  know.'* 

Here  he  stopped.  But  1  had  grown  impatient. 
"  0  venerable  sage,"  I  asked,  "  canst  thou  not 
give  us  any  clue  to  the  parentage  of  Francesca  ? 
She  is  my  betrothed ;  she  is  the  rightful  owner  of 
large  possessions.  "What  avails  all,  if  we  know 
not  this  ?" 

He  paused,  and  answered,  "  I  cannot  tell 
names.  Ihe  personages  whom  I  su  vpeak  not 
audibly.  I  can  see  their  lips  move;  I  can  lehold 
their  dresses  and   appearance  ;   the   localities   in 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  55 

which  they  act  and  dwell ;  but  I  cannot  go  beyond 
this.  The  castle  that  should  be  hers  is  a  great 
and  noble  baronial  pile ;  the  park  is  vast,  and 
crowned  with  beauty.  It  is  in  England,  but 
where,  I  know  not.  This  must  be  for  thee  to 
discover." 

Then  I  said,  "  0  venerable  sir  and  teacher, 
where  now  is  this  false  lord  ?" 

Again  he  meditated,  and  the  emerald  fire 
flashed  out  of  his  eyes  ;  he  seemed  e  xhausted ; 
but  seeing  my  importunity,  he  nerved  himself  to 
a  great  effort. 

"  I  see  him  in  a  drawing  room  in  a  great  house. 
A  fair  lady  is  reclining  on  a  sofa ;  she  wears  a 
loose  robe,  and  on  her  brow  the  crescent  emblem 
of  Diana ;  she  has  a  writing-desk  near  her,  and 
looks  as  if  she  had  but  just  parted  with  the  pen. 
She  seems  to  have  written  something  that  gives 
her  pleasure.  There  is  a  case  of  scarlet  covered 
books,  finely  gilt;  there  is  a  full  length  portrait 
of  a  man  in  ducal  dress ;  he  wears  a  star  and 
garter,  and  has  a  plumed  hat  in  his  hand." 

I  started — this  was  the  exact  description  of  our 
drawing-room  in  Cavendish  Square,  and  of  the 
likeness  of  my  ducal  grandfather. 

"  Look  closer,  I  said  ;  look  and  see  what  is  in 
one  of  the  corners  of  the  room." 

The  old  man  looked,  and  said — 


56        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

M  I  see  only  a  marble  bust ;  it  wears  the 
semblance  of  a  crown  ;  but  whether  gold  or  laurel 
I  cannot  say." 

I  had  now  no  doubt  it  was  Lady  Mary's  own 
room ;  this  was  a  bust  which  she  had  brought 
from  Vienna,  having  received  it  there  from  one 
of  the  royal  archdukes. 

Akiba  resumed — 

"The  door  opens,  and  a  tall  man  enters — 
deadly  pale  and  cadaverous,  but  finely  dressed, 
and  with  a  courtly  badge.  It  is  the  brother.  His 
crimes  write  themselves  in  his  face.  He  smiles, 
but  it  is  a  corpse-like  grin.  He  seats  himself  by 
the  lady  ;  he  takes  her  by  the  hand ;  he  appears 
to  make  an  ardent  declaration  of  love.  She 
shows  him  what  she  has  written.  He  now  falls 
on  his  knee  before  her.  Shall  I  go  on  ?  Let  me 
draw  the  cur  tain.' ' 

I  needed  no  more.  The  usurper  was  then 
known  to  Lady  Mary — intimate  with  her,  as  it 
would  seem,  beyond  even  common  friendship. 
Why  should  I  not  discover  him  ?  But  even 
when  I  had  done  so,  how  could  I  prove  his 
guilt? 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       57 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


c  c  Immediately  there  met  him  out  of  the  tombs,  a  man  with  an 
unclean  spirit,  who  had  his  dwelling  among  the  tombs ;  and  no 
man  could  bind  him,  no  not  with  chains ;  because  that  he  had 
been  often  bound  with  fetters  and  chains,  and  the  chains  had 
been  plucked  asunder  by  him,  and  the  fetters  broken  in  pieces, 
neither  could  any  man  tame  him." 


About  this  time  we  were  visited  by  a  noisy, 
swearing,  swaggering,  roystering  fellow,  who 
called  himself  Dom  Balthazar,  and  who  looked  a 
knave  and  a  villain,  if  any  one  of  that  honourable 
and  wide-spread  confraternity  ever  did.  There 
is  an  old  maxim  that,  si  an  open  countenance  is  a 
letter  of  recommendation  ;"  and  if  this  be  true,  it 
may  fairly  be  concluded  that  from  a  face  on 
which  roguery  is  written,  it  is  the  duty  of  honest 
men  to  fly.    This  piece  of  advice,  indeed,  I  ven- 

D  5 


58        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

tured  to  give  Manasam  when  first  this  stranger — 
who  certainly  did  not  descend  from  heaven— con- 
descended to  make  one  among  us;  but  my  re- 
monstrance was  wholly  lost  upon  my  friend  ;  and 
Dom  Balthazar  seemed  to  have  made  a  firm 
footing  among  the  tribe  almost  as  soon  as  he 
appeared.  The  Zingari  are  generally  sober  and 
temperate ;  decent  in  discourse,  and  modest  in 
recounting  their  exploits ;  but  this  new  comer 
was  a  swill-pot  and  a  glutton,  who  never  seemed 
satisfied ;  and  if  you  were  to  believe  his  own  story, 
he  had  stormed  every  fort,  succeeded  in  every 
battle,  and  carried  every  woman,  whether  maid, 
wife,  or  widow,  that  he  had  ever  adventured  upon. 
If  you  looked  incredulous,  or  even  doubtful  upon 
any  one  of  these  golden  legends,  he  swore  so 
dreadfully  and  twirled  his  moustache  with  such 
an  overbearing  fierceness,  and  stamped  his  foot, 
and  flashed  so  much  fire,  smoke,  and  foetid  vapour 
all  about,  that  for  the  sake  of  peace  and  quiet,  it 
seemed  better  to  submit,  and  swallow  any  amount 
of  lying  and  braggadocio  than  to  be  dragged  into 
a  war  of  words  or  blows  with  so  redoubtable  an 
antagonist,  who  would  probably  kill  you  first  and 
gulp  you  down  afterwards.  I  remember  the 
very  first  visit  he  made  to  us,  as  well  as  if  it 
were  only  yesterday.  He  walked  boldly  up  to 
the   chief  tent   of   our   encampment,   whistling 


EDWAKD   WOKTLEY   MONTAGU.  59 

loudly,  with  a  long  Toledo  trailing  and  clanking 
after  him,  a  military  cloak,  which  had  seen  some 
service,  if  one  might  judge  from,  its  stains  and 
patches,  a  faded  feather  in  his  hat,  a  pair  of 
pistols  in  his  belt,  a  cigaret  stuck  in  his  mouth, 
and  an  easy,  deuce-may- care  expression  of 
recklessness  about  him  which  took  the  most 
experienced  by  surprise.  One  of  the  fierce  dogs 
which  usually  acted  as  our  sentinels  having  run 
out  to  meet  him,  and  raised  a  desperate  howl ; 
putting  forth  a  hand  of  iron,  the  new  comer 
coolly  seized  him  by  the  throat,  and  dashing  him 
against  the  ground,  left  the  animal  half  dead ; 
muttering  all  the  while,  "  Holy  Jesus !  What  a 
savage  beast ! ,5  So  unusual  a  prelude  would 
have  disconcerted  most  persons  ;  but  Dom  Bal- 
thazar took  no  notice  of  the  accident,  but  walking 
up  to  where  we  all  sat  at  supper,  he  took  his  seat 
uninvited,  stared  down  the  company  when  they 
examined  him  rather  inquiringly,  and  began  to 
eat  away  ravenously  before  we  had  recovered  from 
our  surprise.  At  length  the  elder  of  the  feast, 
looking  steadfastly  at  him  was,  about  to  speak, 
when  our  self-invited  guest,  anticipating  his 
words,  cried  out — 

"  Bah,  Jacomo,  bah  !  my  brother,  thou  knowest 
me,  and  I  know  thee.  Let  there  be  no  nonsense 
between  us,"  and  he  whispered  into  his  ear,  and 


60        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

made  him  a  sign  at  the  same  instant,  whereat 
the  other  bent  in  reverence,  and  the  new  comer 
continued — 

"  Hare,  rabbit,  pheasant,  wild  duck,  fish — in 
truth  a  goodly  show,  and  hungry  I  am  after 
many  a  weary  mile  and  broiling  day  of  travel  and 
adventure.  Look  sharp,  Jacomo,  and  let  me  have 
of  the  best,  and  that  speedily" ;  and  then,  without 
waiting  for  reply,  he  helped  himself  to  nearly 
half  a  hare,  which  he  flung  in  great  handfulls 
down  his  throat,  that,  like  the  wide-expanded 
gullet  of  Polyphemus,  ever  and  ever  gaped  for 
more. 

"Ho!"  said  he,  "Hoi  what  news?  what 
news.  Any  bloodshed  in  these  parts  ?  any  forts 
to  be  attacked,  or  garrisons  to  be  plundered  ?  I 
have  just  come  from  Spain,  my  brothers,  where 
the  blessed  little  children  learn  to  stab  before 
they  can  say  the  Ave  Maria,  and  the  highest 
feather  in  the  cap  is  to  draw  the  life  blood  from 
the  heart.  And  this  I  saw,  my  brothers,  not  a 
month  ago  on  the  French  frontier,  and  a  fine  and 
gallant  sight  it  was — a  fine  and  gallant  sight, 
my  brothers,  for  a  brave  man's  eyes  to  witness. 
We  were  a  stout  and  bold  party  of  contraband- 
istas,  and  as  we  crossed  the  mountains,  we  came 
up  with  a  negro  and  a  young  girl,  who  was  a  half 
bred,  a  Creole,  and  faith  a  pretty  brisk  and  lovely 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  61 

damsel  enough ;  but  how  she  got  into  the  com- 
pany of  this  accursed  son  of  the  accursed  Ham 
was  then  wholly  unknown  to  all  of  us.  Not  like 
your  sly, mincing  maids  was  she;  no  prim, demure, 
perfidious  prude,  with  eyes  half  veiled,  who  seems 
so  modest  that  butter  won't  melt  in  her  mouth  ; 
mild  as  she- cats  when  you  and  the  priest  are 
looking  on ;  but  when  the  charming  pusses  are 
shut  up  alone  with  their  spouses,  or  wrangling 
with  other  she- cats  for  his  favour,  ye  gods  !  how 
frightfully  they  scratch  and  howl,  and  tear,  and 
come  to  fisticuffs.  And  they  wear  their  petticoats 
so  long,  and  slouch  their  bonnets  so  over  the 
face,  that  if  a  Roman  could  come  back  from  hell, 
he'd  fancy  they  were  vestals  ;  but  quickly  would 
he  change  his  mind,  my  brothers,  if  he  saw  them 
in  their  homes,  when  the  domino  is  laid  aside, 
and  the  female  fiend  steps  forth  in  all  her  brim- 
stone. But  this  little  one  looked  indeed  a  dainty 
morsel,  and  was  a  banquet  for  a  prince.  For  her 
eyes  were  full  and  dark,  and  like  the  purple 
grapes  that  glow  beneath  the  clustering  vine 
leaves,  and  her  ringlets  were  like  the  deep,  violet- 
coloured  hyacinths,  that  curl  in  a  thousand  ten- 
drils ;  and  her  foot — ah  !  my  sisters,  you  should 
have  seen  that  pretty  foot — twinkling,  glancing, 
like  a  firefly  under  her  scarlet  petticoat — then 
would  the  loveliest  here  declare   that   she  had 


62        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

never  before  seen  in  any  other  woman  a  foot  and 
ancle  in  perfection,  and  confess  that  except  her 
own  there  was  nothing  to  be  compared  to  it  on 
earth."  And  here  the  fellow  looked  at  all  the 
younger  women,  and  winking,  burst  into  a  roar 
of  hideous  laughter,  which  resounded  through 
the  hills  more  like  the  growl  of  a  wild  beast  than 
any  human  utterance  of  satisfaction. 

"  Poison,  my  dears,  poison,  is  not  the  merchan- 
dise which  these  modest  little  ones  buy  from  us ; 
but  lace,  and  trinkets,  and  a  pair  of  earrings,  or, 
mayhap,  a  set  of  gilded  buttons  for  their  sweet- 
hearts. But  there  are  she-cats  that  T  could  name 
in  pleasant  France,  and  sunny  Italy,  and  tawny - 
coloured  Spain,  that  if  I  offer  them  gems  or 
golden  finery,  will  smirk,  and  smile,  and  pout, 
and  ask  me  in  an  undertone — *  Not  these,  good 
friend,  but  poison — poison  is  the  ware  I  want ; 
and  so  I  sell  them  poisons  to  their  hearts'  and 
liver's  content.  And  if  in  days  or  weeks  some 
faithless  lover  perishes,  or  some  too  watchful 
father  kicks  the  bucket,  or  some  confiding  hus- 
band is  born  out  feet  foremost  to  his  ancestral 
grave,  followed  by  a  weeping  spouse,  who  holds 
an  onion  to  her  eyes — why  what  is  that  to  you  or 
me,  my  brothers?  We  do  but  trade;  we  are  not 
reverend  confessors.  Ah !  I  could  many  a  tale 
unfold,  of  rich  and  poor,  great  and  mean  ;  but 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  63 

silent,  sure,  discreet  am  I ;  faithful  to  his  trust 
and  all  his  goodly  customers  is  Dom  Balthazar ; 
faithful  also  to  his  foes,  for  them  he  follows  to 
the  death." 

"  But  ho  I  Jacomo,  ho !  let  me  have  that 
rabbit,  and  hark  ye,  bring  forth  that  jar  of  red 
wine,  which  well  I  know  is  in  the  innermost 
corner  of  thy  tent,  for  thirsty  am  1,  my  brother, 
after  many  a  weary  mile  of  broiling  sun,  of  travel 
and  adventure."  And  as  the  huge  jar  was 
brought  forth — for  his  commands  seemed  to 
meet  with  ready  obedience — he  lifted  it  to  his 
lips,  and  took  a  hearty  draught,  swallowing  me- 
thought  a  whole  quart  in  a  single  gulp.  Then 
attacking  the  rabbit,  it  began  to  disappear  in 
that  capacious  cavern  which  had  already  en- 
gorged the  greater  part  of  a  whole  hare,  and 
still  seemed  void  enough  to  contain  half  a  dozen 
more. 

"  Well,  my  brothers,  the  little  girl  pleased  our 
fancy,  and  we  thought  it  a  shame  that  this 
detested  negro  should  be  her  sole  companion,  so 
we  cast  lots  who  should  take  her  from  him,  and 
the  lot  fell  on  Pedro— thou  didst  know  him  once, 
Jacomo — thou  didst  know  and  love  him  0  my 
brother  !  but  thou  shalt  never  see  thy  friend 
again.  Pedro — glad  was  he.  He  went  up  to  the 
child,  and  with  his  usual  gallantry  requested  her 


64        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

to  leave  the  negro,  and  take  him  for  her  com- 
panion ;  but  the  little  fool  began  to  cry,  and  she 
clung  to  the  negro,  and  the  knave  declared — I 
could  have  stabbed  him  for  the  lie,  for  was  it  not 
a  lie,  my  brothers  ? — that  she  was  his  master's 
only  daughter,  and  he  was  under  solemn  bond 
and  oath  to  take  her  safely  to  a  certain  convent. 
At  this  we  all  laughed,  and  we  cheered  on  Pedro, 
who,  nothing  loth,  seized  the  girl  in  his  arms. 
Then  the  negro — curse  on  him,  my  brothers — 
rose  up,  and  drawing  a  sharp  dagger,  which  none 
of  us  had  seen,  before  the  quickest  could  cry 
hold !  he  stabbed  our  poor  friend  Pedro  to  the 
heart,  and  instead  of  a  blooming  young  lass,  he 
had  only  cold  steel.  But  ho  !  Jocomo,  ho  !  reach 
me  that  pheasant — in  truth  it  seems  a  fat  and 
comely  bird — and  give  me  again  of  thy  red  wine, 
for  well  the  wine  and  bird  agree  with  one  who 
hath  journeyed  many  a  weary  mile,  and  sweltered 
under  the  broiling  sun  of  travel  and  adven- 
ture." Thus  saying,  he  helped  himself  to  a 
whole  pheasant,  of  which  he  seemed  to  swallow 
even  the  bones,  for  he  crunched  them  beneath  his 
huge  and  boar-like  tusks,  making  all  the  while 
the  most  horrible  grimaces ;  and  when  the 
pheasant  also  had  disappeared,  he  again  lifted 
the  heavy  jar  to  his  lips,  and  continued  drinking 
until  we  thought  he  should  burst.     Smacking  his 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        65 

lips,  he  laid  down  the  jar  beside  him,  and  then 
resumed,  "  Ho  !  Jacomo,  ho ! — where  was  I  in 
my  story  ?  Let  me  see,  brother — let  me  see,  I 
pray  thee.  Aye,  now  I  remember — Our  friend 
Pedro  tumbled  dead  down  one  of  the  precipices, 
and  the  negro  looked  after  him  and  laughed,  and 
horrible  it  was,  the  sound  of  that  accursed 
wretch's  laughter.  Then  came  I  up  to  him,  and 
whispered  in  his  ear,  'My  friend,  thou  art  a  dead 
man ;  thou  shalt  never  escape  hence  with  life  for 
this  deed,  for  we  are  all  like  sworn  brothers,  and 
are  bent  on  thy  destruction,  wherefore  I  counsel 
thee  to  blood  and  more  blood.'  And  when  the 
negro  heard  me,  great  indeed  was  his  rage.  And 
now,  my  brothers,  hearken  with  attention.  For 
the  negro  believing  well  that  what  I  said  was 
truth,  and  looking  about  him,  could  see  no 
loophole  for  escape,  so  he  looked  imploringly 
at  the  young  girl,  and  she  at  him,  and  she  said, 
'  0,  Domingo,  kill  me  rather,'  and  we  fearing 
that  she  would  thus  escape,  advanced  like  brave 
and  gallant  knights  of  old  to  her  delivery  ;  when 
just  as  we  were  near,  this  thrice  accursed  black 
fiend  plunged  his  dagger  into  her  side ;  and  when 
he  saw  that  she  was  indeed  dead,  he  turned  upon 
us  and  charged  as  if  ten  thousand  devilkins  were 
in  his  soul.  Greatly  did  I  rejoice,  my  brothers, 
when  I  saw  this ;  but  not  much  did  I  exult  when 


66        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

I  saw  my  loved  companions,  who  were  wholly 
taken  by  surprise,  and  had  scarcely  time  to  draw 
their  faithful  knives — when  I  say  I  saw  them  fall 
one  by  one,  by  his  detested  hand  ;  until  four  more 
as  brave  and  noble  contrabandistas  as  ever  Spain 
sent  forth  were  food  for  dogs  and  birds  upon  the 
hill.  And  now  the  negro  seemed  exhausted, 
when  we  rushed  upon  him,  and  with  our  knives 
cut  him  into  five  hundred  pieces,  and  we  gathered 
up  all  the  dead,  and  made  a  mighty  pyre,  and 
burned  them  there  that  night ;  and  a  finer  pyre 
was  never  reflected  upon  the  snowy  mountains 
than  that  which  we  raised  then  and  there  in 
honour  of  our  slain  companions.  And  now,  my 
brothers,  did  I  not  say  truly  that  a  fine  and 
gallant  sight  I  saw  upon  the  frontier ;  a  fine  and 
gallant  sight  for  a  brave  man's  eye  to  witness  ?" 

We  were  all  silent  and  horror  stricken.  But 
Dom  Balthazar  did  not  notice  our  foolishness ;  but 
again  lifting  the  jar,  he  drained  another  mighty 
draught,  and  laid  it  down  exulting  in  his 
strength.  Then  turning  to  the  women,  he  said, 
while  he  fiercely  twisted  his  moustache — 

"  This  tale  have  I  told,  my  sisters,  for  men, 
brave  men  ;  but  now,  O  beautiful  ones  !  hearken 
ye  also,  for  I  will  expound  rare  wisdom,  and 
freely  give  the  wealth  of  long  experience.  Ye, 
when  ye  go  out  to  prey  upon  the  highways  and 


EDWAED  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  67 

the  byeways,  are  often  at  a  loss  when  the  sons  of 
devils,  who  are  called  Christians,  accost  and  ask 
their  fortunes  to  be  told ;  and  when  they  tempt  ye 
with  the  shining  metal  of  the  East;    but  never 
shall  she  be  at  a  standstill  who  hearkens  unto  my 
rules;  neither  shall  she  falter  in  an  answer  to  male 
or  female.  When  married  women  ask  ye  for  their 
fate  be  sure  and  let  the  man  be  far   removed ; 
whisper  not  into  their  souls  until  the  sneaking 
cully  be  out  of  earshot.     Then  may  ye  safely  tell 
them,  one  and  all,  old  and  young,  rich  and  poor, 
halt  and   blind,   fair  and  frail,   that  they  have 
broken  their  nuptial  promise ;  and  with  some  other 
favoured  one  have  laughed  in  secret  at  the  faith 
they  owed  to  him  who  stands  apart,  and  thinks 
himself — O  Cuckoo  ! — the  sole  and  worshipped 
object  of  his  smiling  spouse.     And  when  ye  have 
whispered  this   into  their  souls,  mark  ye   well 
their  looks,  their  eyes,  their  cheeks.     For  some 
will  smile  assent,  as  if  they  knew  ye  could  not  be 
deceived  ;  and  some  will  redden  in  the  face — but 
these  are  not  quite  hardened — and  some  will,  with 
a  quick  suspicious   movement  of  the  eye,  betray 
the  inmost  riddle  of  their  hearts.     Then  shall  ye 
know  that  ye   have    power  over  these,  the  Chris- 
tian children  of  devils ;  and  ye  shall  demand  gold, 
and  it  shall  be  given  ye,  as  the  price  of  secresy. 
And   when  their  husbands  come   and  ask  their 


68  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

fate  assure  them  that  their  sainted  wives  love  only 
them  alone,  and  are  more  pure  than  the  snows  of 
Ararat. 

"  Never  but  once  did  I  meet  with  an  exception 
to  this  wise  rule  and  maxim,  and  she,  God  wot ! 
was  but  a  poor  silly  child,  who  had  been  brought 
up  in  a  cottage,  and  had  a  kind  of  religious  faith 
in  ancient  things,  and  thought  the  marriage  vow 
was  binding  on  her  conscience.  Great  was  her 
shame  when  I  told  her  she  had  deceived  her 
husband;  but  she  answered  me  not;  only  she 
left  me  in  silent  scorn,  and  I  knew  that  she 
alone  of  all  the  sex  was  pure,  and  I  went  away 
abashed.  But  this  happened  only  once,  and  1 
suppose  she  has  learned  better  since;  so  let  us 
drink  her  health,  my  sisters,  and  greater  in- 
sight into  knowledge. 

u  And  next  ye  may  predict  handsome  children  ; 
for  every  long-eared  silly  woman  thinks  she  must 
produce  the  most  angelic  specimens  of  human 
nature ;  wherefore  be  most  lavish  in  your  pro- 
phecies of  this  kind,  for  they  cost  ye  nothing 
and  always  give  delight. 

"  And  next  ye  may  foretell  a  journey,  soon  to 
be  undertaken ;  a  letter  to  be  received  which  will 
convey  pleasant  tidings  ;  and  a  present  on  the 
road  which  will  be  gladly  welcomed.  So  that  if 
the  silly  dame  shall  but  go  to  church  on  Sunday, 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  69 

or  gets  a  note  containing  nothing  but  '  how  are 
you,'  or  receives  an  apple  or  an  orange  from  some 
fool  as  stupid  as  herself,  each  and  all  your  pro- 
phecies will  be  fulfilled  ;  and  you  will  be  thence- 
forth regarded  as  sibyls  in  sagacity,  who  may  de- 
mand gold,  and  spurn  silver  if  presented. 

"  But  to  the  single,  every  foolish  speech  sounds 
like  heavenly  wisdom.  The  poor  birds  think  only 
of  the  young  men.  Tell  them  that  a  hundred 
youths  are  going  distracted  for  them  ;  they  believe 
it  all  and  go  away  in  happiness.  Predict  mar- 
riage— marriage  with  the  man  they  love  most — 
let  him  be  black  if  the  postulant  be  fair ;  if  she 
be  black  her  husband  must  be  fair,  with  blue 
eyes.  Children,  happiness,  love  in  abundance, 
letters  breathing  fidelity — all  this  is  the  trash 
for  them." 

All  this  the  wretch  delivered  in  a  sing-song 
voice,  which  made  me  loathe  him.  There  seemed 
such  savage  cruelty  and  mocking  hate  in  all  he 
spoke  that  a  strong  and  fierce  antipathy  against  him 
burst  out  of  my  heart.  I  felt  it  like  volcanic  fire 
within  me.  I  could  not  and  I  would  not  contain 
it.  We  both  felt  it  at  the  same  moment  We 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes.  He  hated  me — he 
saw  that  I  abhorred  him.  There  was  a  murderous 
light  in  his  eye,  but  he  could  not  well  stab  me 
unprovoked.     I  knew  he  would  seek  his  oppor- 


70  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

tunity ;  but  relying  on  myself  and  Fate,  I  scorned 
him. 

u  Ho,  Jacomo,  ho,"  said  he,  H  who  may  this 
gallant  be?     Methinks  I  see  not  often  sparks  of 
his  quality  among  the  Gitanos.     One  of  us,  you 
would  say.     Yes,  I  see  it  by  his  well  dyed  skin, 
and  hands  that  show   the   walnut  juice.       No, 
Jacomo,  no  brother,  he  is  not  one  of  our  race — 
he  is  not  of  the  true  Galore — whatever  lie  may 
pretend,  or  however  loudly  he  may  claim   our 
royal  blood.     Black  his  eyes  and  dark  his  hair 
may  be,  but  he   has  the  juice   of  devils  in  him 
— not  the  blood  of  the  favourite  of  the  gods.  But 
come,  let  us  drink  around.     If  ye  are  well  con- 
tent why  so  am  I."     And  saying  this  he  drained 
another  draught,  and  leered  horri  bly  at  some  of 
the  younger  gypsies.     "  And  well  thou  knowest, 
Jacomo,"  he    continued,    ls  that   I    of  all   men 
living    know  the  royal  blood.      I    have   seen  it 
bubbling  into  light — though   it  was  rather  black 
and  dirty  blood,  I  own — but   was  it  not  of  the 
true  royal  stock?     Fine  regal  Guelphic  blooJ, 
which  never  has  been  contaminated  by  grooms  or 
fierce  huzzars ?     Ah!  Count  Koningsmark,   thou 
art  in  hell-fire  now,  and  thy  bones    are    rotting 
beneath  the  bedchamber  of  the  pretty  Sophy  of 
Halle ;  but  thou  wert  once  a  roaring  blade,  only 
thou  didst  fly  into  the  fire  more  heedlessly  than 


EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  71 

any  moth  or  daddy-long-legs  that  I  ever  knew. 
For  when  our  late  royal  master,  George  the  First 
(who  is  now  a  black  raven  if  her  grace  of  Kendal 
can  be  believed),  was  away  in  the  wars,  and  his 
young  wife  was  at  the  old  Elector's  court,  she 
laughed  at  some  of  the  frowsy  queans  who  shared 
the  favours  of  that  gallant  old  booby.  But  it  is 
dangerous  playing  with  such  edged  tools  as  court 
ladies  be ;  they  are  more  cruel  than  lynxes  when 
their  passions  are  aroused.  So  they  filled  the  doting 
old  scoundrel  with  all  sorts  of  tales  about  his 
pretty  daughter-in-law  and  the  gallant  Swede; 
and  he  was  decoyed  one  night  by  a  page  who  came 
with  a  pretended  message  from  the  princess  to 
meet  him  in  her  bed-chamber ;  but  the  little  sim- 
pleton sent  no  such  invitation  ;  and  when  he  got 
there,  instead  of  a  beautiful  lady,  he  found  half  a 
dozen  grim  Hanoverians,  who  stifled  him  in  five 
minutes,  and  thrust  his  body  into  a  grave  ready 
dug  beneath  the  floor.  And  when  her  valiant 
lord  came  back  from  his  campaign  covered  with 
laurels — I  suppose  he  plucked  them  from  the 
stone  wall  behind  which  he  couched,  while  the 
shots  were  flying  in  the  distance — the  lynxes  got 
around  him  and  told  him  all  they  pleased ;  so  the 
pretty  fool  was  locked  up  for  life  in  the  Castle  of 
Ahlen,  where  she  lived  on  bread  and  water  for 
two-and-thirty  years.  Two-and-thirty  long  years 


72        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

she  lingered  there,  until  her  heart  froze  into  ice ; 
a  sad  price  for  a  thoughtless  laugh,  my  brothers; 
a  heavy  penalty  to  pay,  my  sisters,  for  the  out- 
burst of  a  young  heart.  But  this  is  the  way  of 
the  world.  Well,  I  was  a  soldier  then — on  busi- 
ness of  Egypt,  0  my  brothers — in  the  grim  old 
barrack,  and  was  on  guard  outside  her  door  just 
before  she  died.  So  I  was  called  in.  and  a  purse 
of  gold  was  put  into  my  pouch,  and  I  saw  the 
dying  woman,  and  she  said,  '  Gypsy,  for  I  know 
you  to  be  such,  I  once  served  your  people,  and 
they  gave  me  this  as  a  token  that  if  ever  I  should 
want  the  aid  of  one  I  should  show  him  this  medal 
and  I  could  command  it.  Now  I  am  in  need  of 
a  trusty  messenger ;  behold  this,  and  if  there  is 
faith  in  thy  people  swear  that  thou  wilt  obey.' 
And  she  showed  me  the  silver  medal  that  thou 
wottest  of,  which  all  our  tribe  are  bound  to  wor- 
ship. Then  I  kissed  the  medal,  and  I  said  :  '  Com- 
mand me,  and  1  will  do  it  with  my  life  ; '  and  she 
looked  at  me  with  a  dying  look,  and  I  knew  that 
she  believed  my  oath.  So  she  said,  '  Take  this 
letter  ;  give  it  to  the  Kiug  of  England.'  And 
she  read  it  thus — 

" '  J  am  dying,  hi  a  few  hours  I  shall  be  before 
God.  But  1  cite  thee,  George  of  Hanover  and 
England,  to  meet  me  before  the  Judgment   Throne 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  73 

of  Heaven  within  the  year  ;  and  if  thou  convict  not 
me,  I  will  convict  thee.  Fail  not ,  for  it  shall  be  a 
solemn  trial,  and  may  God  adjudge  the  guilty  to 
eternal  fire  and  torture, 

"  c  Sophia  Dorothea  of  Halle.' 

u  And  I  took  the  letter  from  her  hand  and 
went  my  way ;  and  she  died  in  five  minutes. 
And  right  glad  was  I  to  have  such  a  message  to 
the  adulterous  old  vagabond.  But  days  and 
weeks  elapsed,  and  I  was  detained  still  on  busi- 
ness of  Egypt,  and  I  could  not  go  away,  nor 
knew  how  I  could  cross  the  seas.  And  my  oath 
troubled  me,  but  I  knew  I  must  fulfil  it,  though 
all  the  strength  of  hell  should  interpose.  At 
length  I  was  free  from  Ahlen,  and  I  began  my 
journey  to  England,  but  suddenly — for  I  had 
prayed  to  ten  thousand  fiends  to  aid  me — the 
news  was  brought  that  George  was  on  his  way  to 
Hanover ;  so  I  struck  out  of  my  path,  and  met 
the  royal  carriage  on  the  road  to  Osnaburg,  and 
right  glad  was  I,  for  now  my  oath  would  be  ful- 
filled. And  as  the  heavy  coach  lumbered  along, 
with  guards  and  dust  and  noise,  and  all  the  clatter 
that  attends  these  kings,  I  could  see  the  old 
villain  within,  and  one  of  his  fat,  snuffy  mis- 
tresses was  by  his  side.  So  I  called  aloud  to  the 
coachman — Halt!  and  the  coachman  was  one  of 

VOL.    1L  E 


74  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

us,  and  I  made  the  sign,  and  he  halted ;  and  I 
said — c  This  letter  of  importance  is  for  your  Ma- 
jesty.' The  king  took  it  and  frowned,  for  he  was 
enraged  at  the  stoppage,  and  he  tore  it  open. 
But  the  moment  he  read  it  he  grew  black  in  the 
face  and  fell  back ;  his  eyes  and  mouth  moved 
strangely ;  his  hands  fell  down  as  if  lifeless  ;  his 
tongue  hung  half  a  yard  out  of  his  mouth.  I 
never  saw  so  pretty  a  sight  before ;  but  I  knew 
now  that  all  was  over  with  him.  He  died  in  a 
few  hours ;  but  how  he  stood  the  terrible  trial 
above,  the  best  historians  of  the  Kings  of  Eng- 
land have  not  announced;  though  I  suppose  if 
he  were  acquitted  we  should  have  certainly  heard. 
And  whether  he  is  now  a  raven,  with  his  former 
mistress,  the  duchess  in  Grosvenor  Square,  or 
tumbles  in  eternal  flame  and  punishment,  will 
never  be  known  until  you  and  I,  Jacomo,  are 
cold  corpses  ;  and  the  princess  calls  me  to  her 
presence  to  thank  me  for  fulfilling  her  com- 
mands." 

And  now  I  thought  the  wretch  had  done,  but 
1  was  mistaken,  for  he  suddenly  pulled  off  his 
cloak,  and  unbuttoning  his  jerkin  disclosed  a 
shagged  black  breast  ;  and  tearing  the  lappels 
aside,  he  said — 

"  Ho  1  Jacomo,  my  brother,  look  here — this 
wound  I  got  in  the  Morisco  land,"  and  he  pointed 


EDWARD  WORTLEV  MONTAGU.        75 

to  a  huge  scar  in  which  you  might  have  hidden 
your  forefinger.  Then  he  grinned  at  me  and 
went  on.  "And  thus  it  happed,  my  brothers  —thus 
it  came  to  pass  my  little  sisters  of  Egypt,  pure 
gitanas  by  the  four  sides.  He  and  I  loved  the 
same  one — she  was  a  black  Calore,  and  she 
favoured  him  more  than  me.  So  I  watched  them 
both  one  night  under  an  old  battlement,  and 
fond  indeed  were  they,  the  unconscious  fools. 
Then  I  stood  before  them  and  laughed,  and  I 
seized  her  from  his  arms,  but  he  rushed  against 
me,  and  with  a  great  Manchegan  knife  inflicted 
this  wound,  and  I  fell,  and  they  both  grappled 
with  me,  and  I  was  well  nigh  death,  my  brothers ; 
and  I  thought  never  again  shall  I  go  forth  on 
business  of  Egypt,  and  see  my  brothers  of  the 
wood,  and  my  dark  eyed  sisters  of  the  forest — 
pure  Zincali  of  the  four  bloods.  But  this  thought 
gave  me  courage  rather  than  despair ;  and  exert- 
ing all  my  strength,  I  suddenly  flung  them  from 
me,  and  wresting  the  knife  out  of  the  villain's 
hand,  I  plunged  it  in  his  throat,  and  left  the 
gypsy  bright  with  her  betrothed.  But  this  wound 
my  brothers,  laid  me  prostrate  for  many  a  long 
day  afterwards. 

"But,  ho!  Jacomo,  ho!  what,  my  brother, 
and  hast  thou  no  cheese,  no  delicate  fruits,  no 
sweetmeats  after  this  rough  repast?     Bring  forth 

e  2 


76        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

that  mighty   orb  of  Cheshire,  and  give   thy  half 
starved  brother  of  the  best,"  and  strange  to  say 
Jacomo  brought  it;  and  the  bravo,  cutting  a  slice, 
crammed  it  down  his  throat,  grinning,  laughing, 
coughing  all  the  while,   until  he  seemed  more 
like  a  demon  than   a  human  being  ;    and  I  half 
expected  to  see  him  seize  the  one  who  sat  next 
him,  and  swallow  him  down  body  and  bones  at  a 
single   gulp.      For  this   feat,  however,    he  was 
probably  too  full,  and  the  adventure  seemed  only 
deferred.     And  now  for  the  sixth  time   he  lifted 
up  the  jar,  no  longer  heavy  as  it  had  been,  but 
easily    wielded,    and    containing    but    a    small 
modicum  for  so  accomplished  a  drinker  as  this 
new  friend  of  ours  proved  to  be.     He  raised  it, 
and  in  a  trice,  we  saw  the  bottom  upturned  to  the 
skies.     The  whole  jar  had  been  drained  to  the 
dregs — the  mighty    stomach  was  at  length  ap- 
peased.    Then  tossing  it  from   him  with  a  dis  - 
dainful  oath,  the  fellow  looked  again  at  me,  and 
said,  "  Thou  of  the  true  Calore !  thou,  a  son  of 
devils.     But   I   will   soon  ferret  thee  out ;  soon 
will  I  end  this  mumming."     He  shook  his  fist, 
he  grinned  again  most  horribly ;   he  half  rose  up 
as  if  to  strike  me — probably  he  would  have   done 
so  if  he  came    near ;  for  no  one  interfered ;  all 
seemed  awe-stricken  ;  but  the  effort  was  too  much 
for  the  swollen  drunkard,  and  he  fell  helpless  on 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  77 

the  grass,  muttering  with  a  horrid  voice  a  verse 
that  I  afterwards  heard  more  than  once  sung  in 
our  tents — 

Throughout  the  night,  the  dusky  night, 

I  prowl  in  silence  round ; 
And  with  my  eyes  look  left  and  right 

For  him  the  Spanish  hound ; 
That  with  my  knife  I  may  him  smite, 

And  to  the  vitals  wound. 


78       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


"  O  full  of  all  subtlety  and  all  mischief,  thou  child  of  the  devil, 
thou  enemy  of  all  righteousness,  wilt  thou  not  cease  to  pervert 
the  right  ways  of  the  Lord." 


Ah  !  those  were  wild  days.  I  recall  them  now 
as  one  recalls  the  memory  of  some  feverish  dream. 
You  are  lying  in  your  bed,  in  the  cool  vesper 
hour;  the  soft  evening  sunlight  gently  streams 
in  upon  your  chamber  ;  the  breath  of  flowers  is 
wafted  from  the  trellis  beneath  ;  the  sweet  chirp 
of  the  birds  is  heard,  as  they  hop  among  the  tree 
branches  that  overshadow  your  bedroom  windoT 
you  raise  yourself  up  occasionally  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  azure  heaven  outside,  and  you 
see  the  silver  clouds  travel  over  the  blue  li ills,  or 
the  distant  sea,  orange-coloured  in  the  descending 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  79 

sunlight.     You  think  how   happy  they  must  be 
who  can  wander  about  in  that  open  Paradise,  like 
the  birds,  or  sail  over    that  celestial   sea,  with 
sharply  cutting  keel,  and   bellying    foresail,  or 
mount  those  happy  hills  with   gay  elastic  foot- 
step.    And  you   contrast  your  own  pale,  weak, 
nerveless  limbs,  with  those  which  you  assign  in 
fancy  to  the  wanderers  outside,  and  you  are  un- 
happy.    And  after  many  a   hard  struggle  with 
these  purple  thoughts,  you  sink   into  an  uneasy 
slumber,  and   you  are   a  corsair   battling  with  a 
desperate  foe,  on  an    ensanguined  ocean;  or  a 
general    urging    on    your    wild     and    fire-eyed 
followers  into  an  opposing   camp,  and   yourself 
proudly  bearing  aloft  a  banner,  or  a  sword,  on 
which   victory  is   seated ;  or    you  are  a  toiling 
traveller  mounting  up  hill  after  hill,  until  you 
sigh  sorely  for  the  glorious  summit,  which  is  to 
reveal  to  you  some   splendid  glimpse  of  seas  or 
lands  unknown,  and  to  herald  in  the  day  which  is 
to  crown  your  name  with  the  splendid  diadem  of 
immortality. 

Suddenly  you  are  hurled  from  the  midst  of  all 
these  bright  and  shining  scenes  into  utter  dark- 
ness ;  you  are  flung  into  the  Tartarus  of  Hell. 
Now  it  is  an  iceberg  bearing  down  upon  you,  big 
and  black  with  fate,  and  crushing  yourself,  your 
galley,  and  your  horror-stricken  crew  into  the 


80  EDWARD   WORTLET   MONTAGU. 

abyss  of  boiling  waters,  while  ten  thousand  blue 
sharks  leap  upon  you,  and  tear  you  into  as  many 
pieces.  Now  it  is  a  thunderstorm,  a  very  simoom 
that,  ere  you  are  aware,  folds  you  in  its  black 
wings,  and  in  a  moment,  camp  and  foeman  dis- 
appear, and  you  and  yours  collapse  into  baneful 
death,  and  all  is  silence  and  despair.      Now  it  is 
a  fierce,  volcanic  fire  that  shatters  the  mountain  ; 
at  your   feet  a  fearful   crater  yawns ;    a  crater 
filled  with  fire  and  poison,  and  in  an  instant  you 
are  devoured  with  all  your  brilliant  hopes,  and 
nothing  remains   but  a  swollen  corpse   upon  a 
barren  mound  of  ashes.      0  reader,  if  thou  hast 
felt  and    experienced    these  things,    know  that 
those  dreams  of  the  past  are   like  unto  them. 
And  if  thou  art  young,  as  I  once  was,  be  happy 
while  you  may,  and  strive  to  make  the  best  of 
that  enchanted  period ;  and  if  thou  art  old,  as  I 
alas  !    now  am,  then  seek   to   stifle  all  remem- 
brance of  them,  for  bitterly  will  they  contrast 
with  that  which  now  thou  dost  experience.     Ah, 
me !    thine  eye  is  dim ;    thy  hand  shakes,  thy 
limbs  are  not  the  steel-cased  limbs  they  were  of 
yore ;  thy    blood  is  cold  and  sluggish,  and  thy 
thoughts  are  dull  and  dreamless.     What  remains 
for  thee  and  me,  but  Lethe — the  oblivion  of  the 
dark  and  silent  stream  ?     For  memory  but  en- 
hances present  misery.     We  are  like  the  sleeper, 


EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  81 

who  dreamed  he  dwelled  in  gardens,  and  waked 
and  found  himself  on  a  dung  heap,  and  was  un- 
happy— as  how  could  he  be  otherwise. 

Akiba  had  taken  a  strange  fancy  to  me.  He 
was  never  tired  of  shewing  me  new  sights,  or 
introducing  me  into  new  scenes.  One  evening 
as  we  were  parting,  he  said — 

u  Zala-Mayna,  you  must  set  out  with  us  to- 
morrow. We  are  going  to  Norwood  to  see 
Margaret  Finch,  the  Gypsy  Queen.  Our  tribe 
have  business  with  her,"  He  said  no  more,  but 
I  knew  that  I  should  go. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  were  all  astir  ;  horses 
were  saddled  ;  packs  were  opened  and  filled; 
the  dukes,  counts,  and  knights  of  our  encamp- 
ment equipped  themselves  in  their  best  attire, 
and  we  formed  a  brilliant  cavalcade.  We  rode 
hard  all  that  day,  and  at  night  slept  in  a  fine 
plantation,  more  than  midway ;  the  next  day 
saw  us  in  the  midst  of  the  Norwood  camp,  then 
the  largest  in  England.  Great  was  the  joy  with 
which  we  were  received.  The  Zingari,  young 
and  old,  gathered  round  us  with  a  hearty  wel- 
come. Their  tents  were  pitched  amid  the  old 
forest  trees ;  and  beautiful  was  the  carpet  which 
the  old  forest  turf  spread  beneath  their  feet. 
Scarlet  and  blue  cloaks  flashed  around  the  greeu, 
with  a  picturesque  effect,  on   which  a  painter's 

e  5 


82  EDWABD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

eye  would  have  lingered  with  rapture  ;  it  was  a 
scene  for  Salvator  Rosa.     Had  he  been  alive,  he 
might  have  left  the  bandits  among  whom,  it 
said,  he  loved  to  sojourn,   that  he  might  study 
the  wild  and  beautiful,  and   pitched  his  canva 
under  the  auspices  of  old   Mother   Finch,   who 
was  herself  not  the  least  remarkable  of  her  tri; 
For  she  was  bent  almost  double  with  years ; — 
her  age,  indeed,  was  more  than  a  hundred ;  and 
with  her  red  cloak  and  hood,  her  shining  black 
eyes,    and    aquiline    nose,     the    deep,    shrewd, 
thoughtful,  yet  cunning  expression  of  her  mouth, 
such   as    I   have    seen   in    some   of  the   Indian 
princes,  and  the    incessant  pipe  which  she  puffed, 
under  the  shadow  of  a  venerable  oak  tree,  si 
presented  all   the  appearances  of  the  wild  and 
picturesque,  sufficient  to  satisfy  the  most  fastidi- 
ous artist. 

Jnto  the  secret  conclave  which  was  held,  I  was 
not,  of  course,   permitted  to  enter.     Of  our  tril 
only   Akiba,   Manasam,   and  the  old  gyr        la- 
como,  were  taken    into  counsel ;  the  rest  seemi  d 
bent  on  enjoyment,  and  they  indulged  themseft 
to  the  full.      And   quick  and  pleasant  wen 
hours.     Robin  Hood  in  merry  Sherwood  * 
more  free,  more  independent,  or  more    hapi 
How  delightful  were  those  vagabond  days  and 
nights ;  indolent  as  sloths   we  seemed,  but  the 


EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU.  83 

mere  sensation  that  we  lived  was  in  itself  a  rap- 
ture ;  for  we  were  all  in  perfect  health,  and  when 
the  stomach  is  good,  and  the  skin  clear,  when 
the  blood  circulates  freely,  and  the  sun  shines, 
what  is  like  existence?  I  have  lived  since  then 
in  courts  and  drawing-rooms  and  palaces,  and 
tasted  all  that  is  delicious  in  the  jewelled  cups  of 
pomp  and  pride,  but  give  me  one  hour  of  the 
past  when  I  was  a  boy,  and  a  gypsy,  and  for 
such  an  hour  would  I  barter  a  whole  year  of  fine 
and  fashionable  vegetation.  Young  and  old,  we 
all  seemed  to  have  but  one  aim  and  object,  and 
that  was  happiness.  We  lay  upon  the  velvet 
sward,  soft  and  warm  in  the  sunlight,  or  under 
the  spreading  boughs  of  ancient  trees,  which 
might  have  sheltered  the  Druids,  or  the  Centur- 
ions of  the  Romans ;  the  younger  ones  of  the 
male  gypsies  sang  and  played  for  us,  while  the 
females  danced  and  chanted  like  the  wild  Almas 
of  the  Oriental  Princes.  ere,  as  among  us,  but 
on  a  larger  scale,  were  seen  artizans  of  all  the 
trades  which  the  Zingari  follow ;  tinkers,  horn 
spoon  makers,  potters,  besom  binders,  net 
weavers,  hop  pickers,  horse  dealers,  coiners  (1 
fear),  chain  and  basket  weavers,  bird  catchers, 
and  the  dark  eyed  archimages,  male  and  female, 
skilled  in  palmistry,  and  in  decyphering  the 
mystic  tablets  of  the  Future.     And  here  amid 


84  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

many  a  wild  tradition,  I  heard  first  of  Hather, 
the  first  King,  and  Calot,  the  first  Queen  of  the 
English  gypsies ;  and  of  the  dark,  mysterious 
sovereign  Zandahlo,  of  whose  marvels  so  many  of 
their  legends  are  full. 

"  A  great  king  was  Zandahlo,"  said  one  of  the 
elder  gypsies  to  ns,  as  we  sat  beneath  the  stars  ; 
"  there  are  no  such  kings  now,  my  brother — no, 
no ;  they  are  all  departed — they  perished  in  the 
flood  of  waters.  For  he  was  tall  as  any  tree,  and  his 
eyes  were  bright  like  the  star  Aldebaran,  and  his 
long  hairs  were  like  the  spreading  branches  of  the 
cedars  of  Lebanon  ;  you  might  shield  yourself 
from  sun  and  tempest  beneath  his  royal  shadow. 
But  he  is  gone,  my  brother,  and  with  him  sank 
the  glory  of  the  Calore — the  true  sons  of  the 
Gods  of  Fire.  Once  upon  a  time,  long,  long  ago, 
when  the  true  Calore  were  the  lords  of  the  earth, 
and  King  Zandahlo  was  the  master  of  the  world, 
and  there  were  no  pale  faces,  or  pale  eyes  among 
the  Children  of  Fire,  then  indeed  it  came  to  pass 
that  King  Zandahlo  walked  amid  his  gardens — 
his  gardens  that  were  the  wonder  of  all  men. 
And  as  King  Zandahlo  walked  amid  his  gardens, 
behold  he  saw  two  Angels  descend  from  heaven, 
and  they  disported  themselves  in  a  fountain  of 
crystal  waters,  and  the  sun  shone  upon  them,  and 
their  white  wings  flashing  more  beautifully  than 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        85 

silver  in  the  sparkling  waters,  dazzled  the  eye ; 
but  their  resplendent  forms  were  still  more  bright 
and  lovely,  and  King  Zandahlo  looked  and  fell  in 
love  with  these  Celestial  Ones.  And  it  came  to 
pass,  0  brother,  that  King  Zandahlo  did  accost 
these  fair  spirits  ;  and  the  beauty  of  the  King  was 
pleasant  to  their  eyes,  and  they  abided  near  the 
fountain,  and  loved  King  Zandahlo,  and  told  him 
certain  magical  secrets  of  the  flashing  spheres  of 
fire,  and  cloud,  and  water,  such  as  no  man  ever 
knew  before,  nor  was  anyone  among  mankind 
worthy  that  he  should  know  them,  but  King 
Zandahlo  himself.  And  the  mystic  measures  of 
the  moon,  and  the  magnetic  essence  of  the  stars, 
and  the  chain  of  sympathy  that  runs  through  all 
existences,  and  the  force  of  the  Monad,  theDuad, 
the  Triad,  and  the  Tetractys  ;  all  these  the 
heavenly  ones  revealed  to  our  noble  King  Zan- 
dhalo. 

And  it  came  to  pass  that  on  a  certain  night, 
when  all  the  purple  arch  was  burnished  with 
stars,  and  the  heaven  seemed  one  shining  mass  of 
burning  fires,  as  if  all  the  angels  were  assembling 
before  the  Throne  of  the  Unnamed  One,  King 
Zandahlo  also  was  in  his  garden,  and  he  hearkened 
to  mystic  secrets  of  the  fair  spirits.  And  he  said 
unto  them ;  '  0,  spirits,  will  ye  not  uplift  me  into 
heaven,  that  I   may  see  some  of  these  things  V 


86       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

But  the  spirits  answered,  *  N^ay,  it  is  forbidden  V 
And   King   Zandahlo   besought   them,   and   yet 
again  besought  them,  but  they  would  not.     And 
they  strove  to  comfort  him  ;  but  King  Zandahlo 
would  not  be  comforted,   but  still  he  looked  up- 
ward into  the  blue  and  beaming  arch,   and  he 
entreated  them,  <  0,  spirits,  will  ye  not  uplift  me 
unto  heaven,  that  1  may  see  some  of  these  things 
And  the  spirits  wept,  but  they  would  not ;  bo  Ki 
Zandahlo  rose  up  in  rage,  and  he  cried  out ;  <  B 
gone,  deceitful  spirits !    begone !  nor  trouble  j 
me  any  longer.     Behold  ye  are  of  the  tribe  of  the 
faithless  ones.'     And  the  spirits  wept ;  but  ti 
left  King  Zandahlo,  though  they  often  looked 
back  upon  him  as  they  faded  away.     And  it 
deep  night,  and  King  Zandahlo  was  alo 
he  was  sore  grieved  in   his  spirit,   and  he  h 
repented  him  of  what  he  had  done;  audL  ed 

unto  the  spirits  to  comfort  him,  but  they  came 
not.  And  it  was  now  dark  midnight,  and  he  still 
lingered  by  the  fountain,  and  was  unhappy.  And 
he  heard  a  voice,  saying,  '  0,  King,  why  art  tnou 
unhappy  T  And  King  Zandahlo  turned  him  I 
wards  the  place  from  which  the  voice  came,  and 
behold  he  saw  a  Spirit  shining  also  like  the  fail 
spirits  in  outer  semblance ;  but  he  marked  not 
the  dark  drao  in  his  deep  eyes,  nor  the  snake  tli 
was  hidden  in  his  tongue.     Neither  did  he  note 


EDWARD  WORTLEf   MONTAGU.  87 

that  the  voice  of  this  Spirit  was  sharp,  harsh,  and 
hollow— unlike  the  melodious  voices  in  which  the 
fair  spirits  spake.  So  KiDg  Zandahlo  told  the 
Spirit  why  he  was  unhappy,  and  he  said  unto 
him  ;  '  Thou,  0  Spirit,  cans't  thou  uplift  me  into 
Heaven  that  I  may  see  some  of  these  things  T 
And  the  Spirit  answered,  i  This  will  I  do  for  thee, 

0  King.'  And  he  raised  him  in  his  arms,  and  he 
bare  him  aloft  into  a  splendid  place — and  it  seemed 
a  palace  of  the  finest  art,  and  King  Zandahlo 
looked  upon  the  palace,  and  he  said  unto  his  heart, 

1  Never  knew  I  anything  until  this  day.'  And 
when  the  Spirit  had  shewn  him  the  palace,  he 
took  him  into  the  gardens  of  the  palace,  and 
pointed  out  to  him  the  manifold  appearances  of 
beauty.  And  King  Zandahlo  again  said,  *  Never 
knew  I  anything  until  this  day.'  And  the  Spirit 
brought  him  back  into  his  own  place  and  left  him. 
And  King  Zandahlo  was  unhappy  because  he 
could  not  own  that  mighty  place  and  those  splen- 
did gardens.  And  he  grew  thin  and  refused  food, 
and  was  well  nigh  come  unto  death.  And  the 
Spirit  came  unto  him  and  said,  (  Rise  up !  be 
bold  and  strong,  and  make  thy  people  build  for 
thee  a  palace  like  unto  that  palace,  and  gardens 
like  unto  those  gardens.  And  King  Zandahlo 
rose  up  as  the  Spirit  had  commanded  him,  and 
he  sent  forth  his  edicts,  and  he  summoned  all  his 


88  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

people,  and  compelled  all  his  artificers  to  come  in 
and  build  a  new  palace,  and  new  gardens.  And 
when  they  were  completed,  and  a  million 
men  had  perished,  the  sea  broke  in  and  swept 
them  all  away  in  one  night,  and  in  their  mire  was 
King  Zandahlo  buried.  And  over  the  deluge  of 
waters,  there  was  seen  a  dark  Spirit  broodir 
and  the  Spirit  cried  aloud,  before  all  the  people, 
c  This  is  the  reward  of  folly  and  discontent 
Zandahlo  might  have  been  the  happiest  of  men, 
had  he  not  emulated  the  Palace  of  the  Gods  ;  and 
lo  where  is  he?'  " 

A  week  thus  passed — a  pleasant  week  of  free 
agrestic  sports.  I  might  have  easily  attached 
myself  to  one  of  the  franksome  young  gypsies 
who  were  about  me,  and  who  put  forth  many  a 
lure,  but  my  heart  was  unalterably  wedded  to 
Francesca ;  and  I  looked  upon  the  glittering  bevy 
of  dark-eyed  singers  and  dancers  with  no  more 
passion  than  I  should  have  gazed  upon  a  picture 
by  the  hand  of  Rubens.  At  the  end  of  this 
period  Dom  Balthazar  appeared,  greatly  to  my 
disgust  and  disappointment.  I  could  not  imagine 
what  had  brought  the  fellow  hither,  but  he  boldly 
entered  the  Queen's  presence,  and  whenever  he 
pleased  went  into  her  tent  as  if  he  were  a  privi- 
liged  person,  and  indeed  he  was  so  without  any 
question.     He  seemed  well  known  to  all  the  noisy 


EDWARD  WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  89 

crowd,  and  he  strutted  and  swaggered  among 
them  like  a  cock  upon  a  dunghill,  just  as  he  had 
done  among  our  quiet  little  community  in  Sussex, 
being  ever  the  loudest,  noisiest,  and  most  glut- 
tonous. Akiba  and  Manasam  did  not  much 
associate  with  him ;  there  was  an  utter  disparity 
in  their  tastes  and  habits  ;  and  the  years  of  the 
elder  man  made  him  as  indisposed  to  mingle  in 
such  rude  revelry,  as  always  followed  wherever 
Dom  Balthazar  was  present,  as  the  silent  student 
habits  of  Manasam  kept  him  aloof  from  the 
bacchanalian  roystering  in  which  our  new  com- 
panion delighted  to  indulge.  But  Dom  Balthazar 
heeded,  or  appeared  not  to  heed  in  the  least,  the 
feelings  of  either.  He  followed  his  own  course 
as  if  no  such  person  existed,  and  set  the  whole 
assembly  in  a  bacchanalian  mood.  Before  he 
came  we  were  like  peaceful  foresters,  disporting 
in  holiday  after  some  long  continued  labour ;  our 
amusements  were  simple  and  rustic ;  We  pleased 
ourselves  with  country  sports  and  country  sobriety ; 
but  Dom  Balthazar  turned  all  things  topsy 
turvy.  Midnight  excursions  were  made  into 
many  a  choice  preserve ;  and  at  the  dawn  he  re- 
turned with  his  wearied  followers  laden  with 
spoil — hares,  rabbits,  pheasants,  fawns,  peacocks, 
salmon,  swans,  and  even  herons.  Then  the  fires 
were  lighted,  fresh  casks  or  jars  were  broached, 


90        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

and   tipsy  jollity  and  feasting  followed,  worthy 
of  a  city  banquet,  or  an  election  dinner. 

Perhaps  these  revels  were  more  in  accordance 
with  the  rude  nature  of  the  gypsies  themselves , 
than  the  more  staid  and  sober  pleasures  in  which 
we  had  previously  sought  and  found  content    At 
all  events  I  have  always  observed  that  men  gene- 
rally will  find  amusement  in  simple  sports,  and 
unless  some  incident  intervenes  to  arrest  them, 
will  go  on  to  the  end  as  they  began.     But  let 
some  knavish,  dissolute  scoundrel  interpose,  and 
by  word  or  example  lead  them  into  other  and 
worse   enjo)rments;    let  him   propose  something 
desperately  foolish,  wild,  or  wicked,  and  there  is 
such  a  contagion  in  vice  that  it  will  suddenly 
seize  every  one  of  them,  as  if  by  a  spell  of  magic ; 
and  they  who  five  minutes  since  played  with 
the  simple  zest  of  boys  will  suddenly  rage  as  if 
impelled  by  the  fiery  nature  of  demons.      Th< 
is  a  natural  devil-may-care  spirit  about  multitudes 
which  drives  them  in  a  moment  into  the  wild, 
and    most  imthoujiht.  of  excesses ;    and  I   hn 
often  felt  convinced  that  no  men  were  more  aston- 
ished at  themselves  next  morning  than  those  who 
have  figured  prominently  in  history,  in  oiu  breaks 
that  have  had  the  greatest  influence  on  times  and 
empires.      Thus  has    it    ever   been,  and    thus   i 
suppose  it  ever  will  be.     A  single  word  applied  at 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.        91 

the  fitting  moment,  like  a  spark  of  gunpowder, 
will  produce  an  explosion,  with  whose  echo  the 
world  will  ring  until  the  annals  of  the  world  be 
no  more. 

Nor  was  our  little  kingdom  exempt  from  this 
feeling.  Dom  Balthazar,  as  I  have  before  hinted, 
delighted  in  viciousness  for  its  own  sake;  his 
example  stirred  up  others ;  and  as  there  were 
many  among  us  who  I  have  no  doubt  deserved 
death  a  hundred  times,  if  such  could  be  inflicted, 
men  and  women  were  now  found  to  boast  of  ex- 
ploits, and  give  revelations  of  their  inner  life 
which  they  would  not  have  dared  to  confess  a  few 
days  before ;  and  which  if  they  had  been  confessed, 
would  have  been  heard  with  a  feeling  very 
different  from  that  which  now  awaited  them. 

"  Ho,  ho!  Meg  Finch,"  he  cried,  "  ho  ho! 
Meg,  my  Queen,  my  beauty,  my  bright  and 
splendid  star  of  Venus,  verily  thou  hast  a  goodly 
crew  of  men  and  women  ;  and  some  I  think 
would  take  the  devil  by  the  horns,  nor  would  my 
pretty  lasses  fear  to  catch  him  by  the  tail ;  but 
brave  and  gallant  though  they  be,  they  equal  not 
in  gorgeous  devilry  the  fine  Calore  of  Granada 
and  its  mountains,  whom  I  left  some  moons  ago, 
and  whom  I  hope  speedily  to  meet  again.  One 
fellow  have  we  among  us — by  heaven  he  is  a 
trump  card,  and  I  would  not  give  his  little  finger 


92  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

for  the  souls  or  bodies  of  all  the  kings,  queens, 
and   popes    (male   or   female)    in   Christendom. 
Why  what  think  ye  he  did? — fill  ye  bumpers  to 
his  health,  my  brothers,  and  then  ye  shall  hear — 
fill  ye  purple  bumpers  to  his   welfare,  my  6isters, 
and  then  shall  your  ears  be  gladdened  by  tidings 
of  a  brave  and  gallant  man.      He  was  a  monk — 
nay,  shrink  not — for  though  in  cowl  and  cassock, 
and  with  a  shaven  pate,  a  true  son  of  Egypt  was 
he — no  truer  lives  in  whom  the  red  blood  does 
roll.     And  from  the  hill  he  came — but   my  lord 
abbot  knew  it  not,  so  he  was  enrolled  a  monk ; 
and  would,  had  he  lived,  been  prior  and  perhaps 
cardinal,   if  not   Holy    Father   of  the   Faithful ; 
but  the  monks  offended  him,  and  as  he  had  the 
molten,    fiery  blood   of  all  the  true  Calore,  he 
answered  roundly,  and  gave  the  lazy  scoundrels 
tit  for  tat.     But  tit  for  tat  is  not  in  convent  laws  ; 
so  they  shut  him  up  in  a  cell,  and  exhorted  him 
to  patience,  and  let  him  fast  on  dry  bread  and 
cold   water  for  three   weary   months,    until   my 
brother  was  well  nigh  dead.     Well,  at  the  end  of 
that  time  he  vowed  repentance,  and  confessed  his 
sins,   and  was  absolved,  and   was  released ;  and 
when  the  next  feast  was   held,  he  prayed  hard  to 
be    allowed     to     serve    the     wine    to     all     his 
kind,    good,  pardoning   brethren.      So   the  holy 
men   consented,    and    my    brother   fetched    the 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  93 

wiDe    from   the   cellars   in   many   a    brimming 
flaggon ;    and   when  the    morning    stars    arose 
in    heaven,     there    were    forty     monks     lying 
dead  beneath  the  festal  table,   and  the  goodly 
abbot  at  their  head.     And   the  matter  was  en- 
quired into,  and  my  brother  wept  indeed  in  true 
sorrow  for  the  departure  of  all  his  pious  comrades  ; 
and  when  the   hogshead  was  examined  behold  a 
viper  of  the  most  poisonous  quality  was  found  in 
the  bottom  of  the  cask,  dead  and  swollen ;  but 
how  it  entered  no  man  ever  knew.   So  my  brother 
was  acquitted  from  all  blame ;  but  he  soon  after 
joined  our  sacred  band,  for  he  had  heard  that  the 
Holy  Inquisitors  liked  not  much  the  manner  of 
his  acquittal,  and  were  preparing  for  him  a  charge 
of  heresy,  which  would  have  ravished  him  from 
us  for  ever.     So  he  fled  to  us,  and  now  he  is  one 
of   our    firmest,  fastest  friends  ;   and  he  often 
laughs  when  he  recounts  the  story  of  the  forty 
dead  and  swollen  rats — I  mean  monks — on  the 
marble  pavement  of  the  house  of  God ;  and  he 
bids  them  God  speed,  and  he  drains  his  flaggon 
to  their  memory.     So  now,  my  brothers,  and  ye 
also,  my  sisters  dear,  a  bumper,  a  bumper,  and 
yet  another  flowing  bumper  to  the  health  of  the 
ex-monk  of  Cordova. 

"  My  brother  went  into  the  wood, 
His  heart  athirst  for  monkish  blood  j 


94        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 


My  brother  sought  a  viper's  nest — 
He  hid  the  viper  in  his  breast. 

He  charmed  the  pretty  poisoned  elf 
By  secrets  known  best  to  himself ; 

He  put  the  viper  in  tho  cask, 

And  grinned  beneath  his  pious  mask. 

'  Ho,  ho,'  quoth  he,  '  these  knaves  shall  find 
That  gypsy  skill  their  eyes  shall  blind.' 

They  drunk  the  viper  wine,  and  woke 
In  fire  of  hell  when  morning  broke." 


Whether  there  were  any  internal  shudders  at 
this  recital  I  cannot  say,  I  only  know  there  would 
have  been  a  week  before;  but  Dom  Balthazar 
seemed  to  magnetize  all  by  his  own  evil  nature. 
After  a  pause  he  continued — 

"  And  now,  my  brothers,  hearken  ye  unto  me, 
and  I  will  reveal  the  Ten  Commandments  of 
Gypsydom,  which  whoso  followeth  he  shall  grow 
rich  and  happy ;  but  he  who  followeth  them  not 
shall  be  as  a  church  mouse — lean,  scraggy,  and  a 
coward. 

"  First — All  charity  is  humbug  and  pretence. 
No  man  would  give  a  farthing  to  another  did  he 
not  hope  to  gain  something  for  himself  by  it ;  but 
the  great  source  of  the  thing  is  to  be  found  in  the 
vaingloriousness  of  men  and  women  who  love  to 
appear  better  than  they  really  are.  Wherefore, 
when  thou  begg  est  an  alms,  always  seek  it  where 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  95 

two  or  three  are  gathered  together,  for  shame  or 
vanity  will  get  thee  something. 

u  Second — It  is  in  vain  to  ask  a  charity  from  a 
wedded  pair,  for  they  know  each  other  too  well — 
the  humbug  mask  is  off,  and  so  they  will  give 
you  nothing ;  but  from  a  poor  man  sneaking  at- 
tendance on  a  rich  one  seek  it,  or  from  a  lover, 
dangling,  like  a  hungry  dog,  after  his  mistress. 
For  these  suitors  always  love  to  appear  other  than 
they  really  are ;  and  they  who  would  not  give 
thee  a  maravedi  to  save  thy  soul  from  damnation, 
will  give  it  that  they  may  get  a  smile  from  the 
patron,  or  a  kiss  from  the  flirting  quean. 

u  Third — If  there  be  any  man  of  good  estate  in 
the  neighbourhood  who  hath  lost  a  favourite 
child,  go  to  him,  attired  in  robes  of  woe,  and  tell 
him— as  if  thou  wert  ignorant  of  his  misfortune — 
that  thou  hast  lost  a  blind  boy  or  girl,  and  make 
the  resemblance  of  thy  fancied  loss  as  like  to  his 
as  possible.  Then,  with  many  a  sigh  and  tear, 
and  supplication,  cant  to  the  feeling  booby,  until 
he  melts  and  well  rewards  thee  for  thy  pains. 

"  Fourth — If  any  tender  fool  hath  a  husband 
sick,  accost  her  as  she  walks  the  streets,  and  say 
thou  prayest  hard  for  his  recovery,  and  add 
that  Heaven  hearkeneth  to  the  poor  man's 
prayer ;  but  if  the  wife  be  very  young  and  the 
husband  very  old,  pretend  not  that  thou  knowest 


96  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

of  my  lord's  illness,  but  say  to  her — '  God  grant 
thee,  beauteous  lady,  a  young  and  bouncing 
husband.' 

"  Fifth — But  if  the  husband  dies,  then  let  your 
wife  or  sister  go  unto  the  widowed  dame,  and, 
dressed  in  sable  weeds,  recount  a  loss  which  she 
herself  has  first  experienced,  pretending  that  a 
husband  has  been  snatched  from  her  by  untimely 
death,  and  weeping  hard  until  the  rich  one  sighs 
in  sympathy,  and  gives  thee  of  her  purse,  with- 
out at  all  considering  whether  thy  tale  be  true  or 
not. 

"  Sixth — But  most  of  all  rely  on  wives  or 
widows  with  small  children  ;  for  if  thou  goest 
unto  these  with  a  pitiful  tale  of  thine  own  seven 
starving  babes,  without  food  or  raiment,  or  a 
roof,  never  yet  knew  I  the  one  who  could  resist, 
or  who  did  not  weep  in  heart  over  the  dismal  fate 
of  thos?.  helpless  ones. 

"  Seventh — The  dandy  loves  to  hear  his  person 
praised ;  the  dainty  dame  to  hear  her  eyes  and 
fair  complexion  extolled ;  the  strutting  mamma 
is  pleased  to  learn  that  no  one's  children  equal 
hers  in  beauty  ;  the  military  monkey  thinks  him- 
self a  Charles  XII.,  and  '  noble  captain  '  will 
draw  forth  his  purse,  particularly  if  thou  cele- 
bratest  his  bravery  in  the  presence  of  some 
woman  just  as  brainless  as  himself;  and  so  the 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  97 


priest  is  glad  when  thou  speakest  of  his  piety ; 
but  I  hardly  counsel  thee  to  beg  of  such,  for  they 
dread  to  part  with  even  a  half-farthing. 

"  Eighth — If  a  pretty  woman  pass  thee  by  and 
looks  dejected,  be  sure  her  husband  or  her  lover 
is  unkind,  and  soap  thy  tongue  accordingly. 

"  Ninth — The  ugliest  woman  thinks  herself  a 
beauty,  unless  she  has  a  large  and  broad  forehead, 
and  then  mayhap  she  despises  outward  charms  ; 
but  in  mind  she  thinks  herself  a  Plato  or  a  Dante, 
and  therefore  praise  her  as  thou  wilt,  she  never 
will  be  satisfied  with  the  feast. 

"  Tenth — But  this,  the  tenth  commandment,  is 
the  crowning  one.  If  ever  thou  seest  a  tender 
husband  with  a  pregnant  wife,  take  with  thee  one 
who  is  blind  or  halt,  and  press  him  with  thy 
prayers  for  alms.  Fear  will  extort  them  amply  ; 
and  thou  and  thy  companion  shall  exult  at  hav- 
ing terrified  the  fool  out  of  gold  or  silver.'' 

But  let  me  drop  this  hateful  fellow  ;  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  of  him.  I  only  lament  there  should 
be  so  many  of  his  odious  type  on  earth. 

Another  week  passed,  and  we  had  completed 
the  purpose  for  which  we  came.  Akiba,  Giacomo, 
and  Manasam  gave  the  word,  and  all  was  ready 
for  departure.  We  had  a  glorious  parting  feast 
by  moonlight ;  the  stars  were  also  in  the  heaven, 
and  we  needed  not  lamp  or  watch  fire,  for  it  was 

vol.  it.  f 


98        EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

in  the  delicious  month  of  August,  when  all  is 
balm  and  beautifulness. 

"  My  brothers,"  said  Akiba,  "  I  go  from  among 
you.  Never  again  shall  we  meet  on  earth.  My 
sands  of  life  are  nearly  run ;  I  and  your  Queen 
are  the  two  oldest  of  the  tribes  that  now  exist  in 
England.  We  cannot  hope  that  we  shall  look 
into  each  other's  eyes  after  this  night;  but  such 
is  the  way  of  human  beings.  Let  me  exhort 
each  and  all  to  be  true  as  steel  to  their  native 
tents  and  to  one  another — thus  only  can  they 
prevail  against  the  common  enemy.' ' 

"  Thou  speakest  wisely,  0  Bazecgur,"  answered 
one  of  the  most  aged  and  venerable  of  the  Nor- 
wood companions.  "  Hearken  unto  it,  0  my 
brothers;  hearken,  and  be  advised." 

"  Nevertheless,"  continued  Akiba,  "  though  we 
shall  never  meet  again  on  earth, there  is  anotherland 
of  life  where  we  may  all  assemble ;  thither  shall 
the  true  Calore,  the  Sons  of  Fire,  the  beloved  of 
the  Gods,  go,  and  joyful  shall  be  their  union  un- 
der one  tent.  For  what  says  Kubeer  ?  Verily 
his  words  are  pearls  of  great  price.  'The  spirit 
that  is  in  man  dieth  not ;  it  is  a  spirit  of  life 
and  love,  it  shall  exist  in  another  form,  and  in  a 
different  orb.'  They  who  know  us  not,  say  that 
we  are  infidels  as  to  a  future  being  ;  that  we  have 
neither  gods  nor  demons.  But  ye,  O  my  brothers, 


EDWAED    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  99 

know  better ;  ye  are  all  persuaded  that  ye  shall 
not  perish  like  the  beasts  of  the  field,  but  that 
ye  shall  survive,  and  be  whatever  ye  have  de- 
served to  be.  Be  ye,  therefore,  true  and  faithful 
to  one  another  in  all  right  things  unto  the  end. 
So  shall  ye  prosper  and  rejoice." 

And  after  this  we  struck  our  tents,  and  de- 
parted. 


F  Z 


100  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


"Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  ways  ?  by  taking 
heed  thereto  according  to  Thy  word.  With  my  whole  heart  have 
I  sought  Thee." 


One  day  as  Manasam  and  myself  were  out  fish- 
ing, our  conversation  turned  upon  the  past,  and 
from  those  learned  stores  which  he  possessed  he 
displayed  an  amount  of  vast  and  varied  know- 
ledge, greater  than  he  had  ever  yet  shown  me. 
He  was  in  sooth  a  man  of  wonderful  accomplish- 
ments, and  to  me  it  was  then  matter  of  surprise 
to  find  such  a  one  leading  a  vagrant  life  with 
gypsies  ;  but  of  such  incidents  I  have  since  found 
life  is  full,  and  nothing  amazes  me  now.  He 
knew  seven  or  eight  languages,  which  he  spoke 
perfectly ;  he  had  read  also,  and  mastered  a  great 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  101 

number  of    books,  and  he    was    not    destitute 
of  eloquence;  he  was  at  all  times  witty,  wise, 
and  moral.     He  was  fond  of  metaphysical  specu- 
lation, and  infused  into  my  mind  the  primary 
seeds  of  many  an  odd  notion,  which  I  have  since 
made  my  own,  and  which  have  put  forth  strange 
blossoms,  and  still  stranger  fruit.     For  age,  he 
was  about  eight-and-twenty ;  his  appearance  was 
dark,  but  noble ;  there  was  a  haughty  flash  in  his 
eye,  which  only  occasionally  shone  out,  but  when 
it  did  it  told  a  tale  of  fiery  and  romantic  passion. 
I  had  attached  myself   to  him  with   so  much 
boyish  trust,  and  he  saw  that  my  liking  was  so 
genuine  and  unfeigned,  that  he  reciprocated  my 
regard  with  the  sincerest  friendship,  and  I  loved 
him  with  more  than  fraternal  fondness.     He  de- 
lighted in  softening  that  fierce  pride  and  unsocial 
temper  which    from   the  first   were   mine  ;   and 
humanizing  me,  not  so  much  by  counsel — which 
seldom  succeeds — as  by  example,  which  almost 
always  vanquishes. 

11  Manasam,"  I  said,  "  how  comes  it  to  pass 
that  you  live  with  my  brothers  of  Egypt?  You 
are  not  of  them. " 

"I  scarcely  know,"  he  answered,  "but  the 
Zingari  reject  no  one,  and  I  feel  a  vague  sort  of 
happiness  among  them,  such  as  I  cannot  describe, 


102  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

but  which  contents  me  more   than  anything  in 
my  former  life." 

u  And  what  may  your  former  life  have  been, 
0  Manasam  ?" 

"Well,  it  is  not  remarkable  for  any  telling 
incidents,  but  if  you  would  like  to  hear  it  you 
shall.  My  father  was  a  gentleman  of  large  for- 
tune in  one  of  the  western  countries;  he  had 
two  sons ;  I  am  the  second.  Our  home  was  an 
ancient  mansion  that  had  been  in  our  family  for 
centuries,  and  we  possessed  all  that  heart  could 
desire.  Thus  time  flowed  pleasantly  on  until 
my  sixteenth  year,  when  I  was  to  be  sent  to 
Oxford.  I  had  a  little  cousin,  a  sweet,  innocent 
girl,  whose  father  and  mother  dying  early,  had 
left  her  to  the  guardianship  of  my  father,  and 
she  lived  with  us.  As  her  fortune  when  she 
came  of  age  would  be  considerable,  my  father 
was  not  disinclined  to  secure  it  if  he  could,  so 
he  placed  her  with  us,  and  she  was  our  playmate 

in  all  youthful  pranks.     I  soon  noticed  that  she 
was  particularly  fond  of  me ;  and  I  suppose  I  let 

her  and  others  see  that  I  was  not  insensible  of 

it ;   for  one  day  my  father  called  me  into  the 

library  and  spoke  thus. 

"  l  George,  you  must  go  to  Oxford  in  a  day  or 

two.     It  will  not  do  for  you  to  remain  here  mak- 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  103 

ing  love  to  Sophy.  She  is  to  be  your  brother's 
wife,  so  you  had  better  put  away  all  nonsense  out 
of  your  head.' 

tl '  But,  sir,'  I  said,  *  is  it  not  enough  for  Will 
to  have  the  estate  ?  He  is  my  eldest  brother,  and 
I  don't  grumble  about  that.  But  why  should  he 
have  my  cousin  ?' 

w  *  My  dear  George,'  he  replied,  '  the  estate  is 
mortgaged  so  heavily  that  unless  your  cousin's 
money  redeems  it,  there  will  be  no  estate  at  all, 
and  we  must  all  turn  out  and  seek  our  fortune 
as  we  can.' 

"  I  bowed  and  was  silent.  What  could  I  say? 
I  had  no  doubt  it  was  true,  and  I  supposed  all 
was  for  the  best.  That  evening  I  strolled  into 
the  old  park.  It  looked  beautiful.  There  was 
not  an  ancient  mossgrown  tree  that  I  did  not  love 
as  an  old  friend.  i  Yes,'  I  said,  '  I  will  sacrifice 
myself;  this  noble  old  place  shall  never  pass  to 
strangers  if  1  can  help  it.  But  how  are  Sophy's 
feelings?  Is  she  also  to  be  sacrificed?  Yet  will 
it  be  a  sacrifice  ?  My  brother  is  a  finer  and 
bigger  fellow  than  I  am.  Perhaps  she  will  love 
him  in  time,  and  all  will  go  well.'  While  I 
mused  in  this  way  I  saw  her  in  one  of  the  distant 
walks.  How  sweet,  how  beautiful,  how  inno- 
cent she  looked.  She  was  twining  some  wild 
flowers  about  her  little  straw  hat,  and  singing 


104  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

merrily  all  the  while.  She  does  not  know  that  I 
am  leaving  her,  I  thought.  Alas !  she  will  be 
sorry  when  she  does.  I  went  to  meet  her,  and 
as  gently  as  I  could  told  her  I  was  going  in  a 
day  or  two.  She  struggled  hard  with  her  feel- 
ings, but  she  fainted  in  my  arms. 

u  I  went  to   Oxford  and  remained  there  four 
years.     I  was  then,  for  the  first  time  since  my 
departure,  invited  home.     My  cousin  had  grown 
into  a  beautiful  young  woman.      The  moment  I 
saw  her  I  knew  that  she  loved  me   still.      She 
had    been    betrothed    to     my    brother     during 
my    absence,    and    I    suppose     she     had     not 
thought   very    seriously  about    the    matter,  or 
about  poor  absent    George,    but  when  she  saw 
me     it    was     evident     that     she    felt    for    the 
first  time  the  ordeal  through    which  she  must 
pass.     My  father  did  not   notice,  or  if  he  did  he 
affected  not  to  do  so.     However,    he    took  care 
that  we  should  have  no  interview,  for  he  stuck 
close  to  me  all  the  while  I  was  there,  and  in  a 
week  he  sent  me  on  the  Grand  Tour.      My  al- 
lowance was    liberal,  but  I  would  rather  have 
stayed  at  home ;  this,  however,  was  not  to  be,  so 
I  went.     I  did  all  I  could  to  have  but  one  short 
private  meeting  with  my  cousin  ;   but  every  de- 
vice failed,  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  without 
unburthening  my  soul  of  its  secret  passionate 


EDWARD   WORTLET   MONTAGU.  105 

love.  For  I  did  indeed  love  her,  with  all  the 
intense  feeling  of  a  man,  and  I  struggled  hard 
with  all  my  emotions  in  her  presence.  My  father's 
grave  look,  however,  awed  me,  and  I  departed. 
'  George,'  he  said,  '  your  cousin  is  dead  to  you  ; 
she  is  your  brother's  affianced  bride.  It  would 
be  dishonourable  in  the  extreme,  if  even  by  a 
look  you  made  that  faith  to  waver  which  now  be- 
longs to  another.  I  have  brought  you  up  as  a 
gentleman  and  man  of  honour.  Remember  the 
obligations  which  these  sacred  words  impose,  and 
be  worthy  of  them.'     So  I  went  my  way. 

"Three  years  passed, during  which  I  heard  only 
from  my  father,  and  he  wrote  about  everything 
but  her  of  whom  I  longed  most  to  hear.  One 
day  I  was  at  Milan  admiring  the  beauty  of  that 
famous  capital.  I  had  sauntered  from  gallery  to 
gallery,  from  palace  to  palace,  but  I  could  not 
rest.  I  was  wretched  and  most  unhapppy.  I 
strolled  into  the  open  country ;  then  a  strange 
feeling  came  over  me,  and  I  fell  into  a  species  of 
reverie,  in  which  I  thought  I  could  see  what  was 
actually  going  on  at  that  instant.  Have  you  ever 
had  this  feeling  ?  If  not  you  cannot  understand 
me.  I  walked  along,  but  I  saw  nothing  of  the 
things  before  me.  I  was  in  England ;  I  was  in 
my  father's  house.  I  went  into  the  old  parish 
church ;  I  saw  her  stand  in  bridal  veil  beside  the 

F  5 


106  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

altar ;  I  heard  her  utter  irrevocable  vows.  I  was 
in  a  magnetic  stupor,  but  everything  passed 
vividly,  not  before  my  eye  indeed,  but  in  my 
mind  within.  I  felt  the  holy  magic  of  her  pre- 
sence, yet  I  knew  that  seas  and  lands  divided  us  ; 
I  could  perceive  the  divine  effluence  that  seemed 
to  flow  from  her  being  into  mine ;  yet  I  knew 
that  we  were  separated  by  thousands  of  miles.  It 
was  not  a  dream,  it  was  not  a  vision,  it  was  not  a 
jealous  man's  ideal  torture ;  but  it  was  the  strong 
conviction  of  my  soul  that  at  that  moment  her 
nuptials  were  being  celebrated ;  that  our  hearts 
were  one  though  far  apart ;  that  her  soul  was 
blended  into  mine,  as  mine  appeared  to  be  with 
hers  ;  and  that  she  was  probably  experiencing  the 
very  same  sort  of  sensation  herself,  and  though 
corporeally  present  in  the  church,  yet  was  she 
spiritually  far  away  in  some  old  Italian  haunt 
with  him  she  loved. 

"  Yes,  the  Soul  is  indeed  a  Divine  thing,  and  has 
some  wondrous  faculties,  far  apart  from  and 
superior  to  mere  earth.  For  how  happened  it 
that  it  knew  all  this  as  vividly  as  if  it  saw  it  take 
place  ?  Nay,  who  shall  tell  me  that  it  saw  it  not ; 
and  that  partaking,  though  distantly,  of  the 
omnipresenc  e  and  infinity  of  its  Heavenly 
Maker,  it  cannot,  like  him,  be  in  many  places  at 
the  same  moment  ?  He  would  be  a  bold  man  who 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       107 

would  deny  this  before  me,  who  have  had  in  my 
own  life  such  powerful  testimony  of  its  truth. 
But  they  who  have  never  experienced  such  a  feel- 
ing cannot  understand  it,  and  I  can  scarcely  blame 
them  if  they  are  sceptical.  I  only  know  that  what 
I  say  is  true,  and  that  I  felt  it  with  an  abiding 
sense  of  its  reality  that  has  never  left  me. 

"  Three  months  passed,  and  still  I  heard  no 
tidings  from  England.  I  was  at  Naples  one 
night,  at  the  theatre  ;  the  play  had  already  begun, 
and  T  was  rapt  in  the  scene.  Suddenly  I  heard 
a  door  open — the  door  of  a  distant  box,  and  I 
heard  it  close  again.  By  heaven,  I  said,  it  is 
she — my  cousin  is  in  the  theatre.  My  heart 
knew  it  at  once;  a  magnetic,  fiery  thrill  ran 
through  it.  It  came  from  her  and  entered  into 
me.  I  dared  not  look  around,  for  I  dreaded  to 
see  her  with  her  husband.  My  heart  was  swollen 
and  almost  burst.  At  last  I  could  bear  it  no 
longer.  I  turned  my  eyes  from  the  stage,  and 
cast  them  backwards  towards  one  of  the  central 
boxes.  She  was  there.  My  brother  Will  was 
with  her.  How  beautiful  she  looked !  She  out- 
shone the  princesses  of  the  land;  but  not  like 
them  was  she  arrayed  in  costly  pearls.  She  was 
dressed  simply  in  a  white  robe.  How  I  loved  to 
look  upon  her.  Yet  the  sight  made  me  unhappy. 
There  she  was,  hopelessly  lost  to  me  — the  pro- 


108  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

perty  of  another ;  so  young,  so  beautiful,  so 
heavenly  good,  and  lost  to  me  for  ever.  I  retired 
into  the  further  corner  of  my  box,  and  contem- 
plated her  face.  Her  eye  was  restless  ;  she 
seemed  to  me  not  happy.  Methought  her  mind 
was  far  away.  She  looked  about  in  various 
quarters,  eagerly,  as  if  hoping  to  see  some  one ; 
but  recurred  again  to  the  stage,  and  ever  with  a 
disappointed  expression.  At  length  I  mustered 
courage  to  approach  her.  She  was  agitated  for 
a  moment — she  grew  deadly  pale — but  it  passed 
off,  and  our  greetings  were  cordial.  My  brother 
was,  as  usual,  good  humoured,  and  he  manifested 
no  jealousy. 

"  I  stayed  with  them  a  month.  One  night  as  I 
wandered  by  that  glorious  bay,  and  sent  my 
thoughts  aloft  among  the  moon  and  stars,  then 
shining  splendidly  in  that  intensely  azure  arch, 
I  perceived  that  I  was  followed.  The  figure  was 
muffled.  I  was  not  afraid  of  the  stiletto,  for  I 
had  iDj'ured  no  man  ;  but  1  thought  it  well  to  be 
on  my  guard.  I  stood  beside  a  fallen  column, 
and  still  gazed  aloft,  occasionally  looking  at  the 
distant  figure ;  it  came  nearer  and  was  at  length 
beside  me.  The  dark  hood  was  then  thrown 
aside  ;  the  stars  of  heaven  then  shone  upon  that 
heavenly  face — it  was  my  cousin,  my  first,  my 
last,  my  only  love  on  earth — alas  !  my  brother's 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       109 

wife.  Upon  no  fairer,  sweeter  face  or  form  did 
that  moon  ever  shine,  since  God  commanded  it 
to  take  its  place  in  the  firmament,  and  to  give 
brightness  to  the  sons  of  men. 

"  '  George,'  she  said,  '  I  have  followed  you 
here  this  night,  for  the  first  and  last  time,  because 
I  see  that  you  have  shunned  me  since  we  have 
met ;  and  I  can  bear  this  silence  no  longer.  Why 
am  I  your  brother's  wife  ?  Why  have  you  for- 
gotten me  ?' 

u  I  groaned  aloud,  but  could  not  answer. 

"  '  They  told  me  you  were  married,'  she  re- 
sumed, '  married  to  an  Italian  lady  ;  and  now  I 
find  that  I  was  deceived.  Until  this  falsehood 
had  been  urged,  I  still  refused  to  name  a  day  for 
my  marriage;  after  that  I  resisted  no  longer. 
Why  should  I?  He  alone  whom  I  loved  was 
another's,  and  I  should  never  again  see  him. 
George,  can  you  forgive  me  ?' 

"  I  flung  myself  at  her  feet. 

ci i  Oh !  spare  me,'  I  cried. 

"  ■  Yes,  you  do  forgive  me,  my  cousin  ;  but  I 
can  never  forgive  myself.  Your  brother — I  accuse 
him  not.  He  is  my  husband — but  only  in  name. 
I  have  tried  to  love  him;  but  I  cannot  My 
heart  is  broken  in  the  struggle.  Yet  a  little 
while  and  it  will  beat  no  more.  But  while  it 
does,  it  beats  only  for  you.     Tell  me — tell  me 


110  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

once,  before  we  part  for  ever,  that  you  love  me 

•tOL' 

"  My  tears    answered  for  me — tears  of  blood 

from  my  heart. 

"  l  0  Sophy,'  I  said,  '  I  love  you  more  than 
God.'     I  could  say  no  more. 

a i  Now,'  she  said,  '  I  am  content.  We  part 
for  ever.  Kiss  me,  dear,  dearest  George ;  obey 
my  command.  Go — and  never  let  us  meet  again, 
until  we  meet  in  heaven  above,  and  shall  be  no 
more  separated  by  deceit.' 

u  I  obeyed  her.  I  was  passive  as  a  bird  in  her 
hands.  I  pressed  her  to  my  heart  beside  that 
silver  sea,  and  then  I  tore  myself  away.  I  never 
again  saw  her  living,  but  I  have  wept  for  nights 

over  the  cold  grave  at  M ,  where  she  sleeps 

her  final  sleep.  She  died  in  three  months,  but 
my  brother  soon  forgot  her,  and  consoled  himself 
with  another  wealthy  bride.  I  followed  her  coffin 
home  to  England  in  disguise.  I  watched  it  until 
it  was  conveyed  to  earth ;  then  I  knew  that  I  was 
alone  and  woe-stricken  for  ever  ;  and  I  cursed  my 
fate,  and  lifted  up  my  tongue  even  against  God. 
I  became  like  Cain,  a  vagabond  and  a  wanderer. 
I  could  not  bear  a  settled  home  ;  I  shunned  the 
daylight;  I  loathed  to  look  upon  the  sun.  At 
night  only  I  roamed  abroad  and  fed  my  soul  on 
melancholy  meditation.     In  the  course  of  these 


EDWAKD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  Ill 

midnight  rambles  I  found  myself  in  a  gypsy 
encampment  in  a  distant  county.  I  had  money 
in  abundance,  for  our  fortunes  were  now  secured, 
and  my  father  atoned  to  me  as  far  as  he  could  for 
the  one  great  wrong  by  giving  me  an  ample  in- 
come. I  shared  it  with  these  wild  people,  and 
became  one  of  themselves.  I  concealed  my  name, 
and  was  adopted  into  their  community,  receiving 
the  surname  which  I  now  bear.  From  them, 
after  a  stay  of  two  or  three  years,  I  came  among 
these,  attracted  hither  by  Akiba,  with  whom  I 
had  formed  an  acquaintance  among  my  first  gypsy 
friends  ;  but  who  left  them  for  some  reason, 
and  persuaded  me  to  accompany  him.  Since 
then  we  have  lived  like  brothers,  and  in  his  com- 
pany I  have  forgotten  or  have  striven  to  forget 
the  Past.  He  has  taught  me  many  things— more 
indeed  than  all  the  books  I  ever  read  have  taught ; 
and  I  believe  his  friendship  for  me  is  sincere. 
That  we  both  regard  you,  I  need  not  say,  and 
since  you  have  made  us  acquainted  with  your 
story,  our  regard  has  increased.  But  you  must 
not  abide  with  us  much  longer.  It  is  a  species  of 
deception.  You  must  not  do  it.  Besides,  you 
are  but  beginning  life,  and  you  have  fair  pro- 
spects. I,  on  the  contrary,  am  an  old,  and 
broken-hearted  man.  When  you  have  been  tried 
like  me,  then  you  may  seclude  yourself  for  ever 


112  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

from  the  busy  world — but  not  till  then  Mean- 
while, rely  implicitly  on  us,  and  prepare  to  remove 
Francesca,  for  in  this  place  is  no  longer  a  safe 
abiding  for  her.  This  is  the  counsel  of  your 
friend,  who,  when  he  loses  you,  will  lose  a  part 
of  himself;  but  who  would  not  be  your  friend  if 
he  counselled  otherwise." 

I  strove  to  dissuade  Manasam  from  this  view 
of  my  affairs,  but  in  vain.  He  and  the  Indian  it 
seemed  had  talked  them  over,  and  they  had  both 
decided  that  I  must  depart  soon.  Money,  as 
much  as  I  required,  was  to  be  at  my  disposal,  and 
everything  that  friendly  wisdom  could  suggest 
was  prepared  for  my  departure — but  as  to  the 
departure  itself  they  were  inflexible.  I  was 
scarcely  pleased  with  this  symbol  of  their  friend- 
ship ;  but  where  I  could  not  win,  I  had  learned 
not  to  murmur,  and  I  hoped  to  gain  time,  and 
trusted  to  the  chapter  of  accidents. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  113 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


"  Then  entered  Satan  into  Judas,  surnamed  Iscariot,  being  of 
the  number  of  the  Twelve,  and  he  went  his  way,  and  communed 
with  the  Chief  Priests  and  Captains  how  he  might  betray  Him 
unto  them.    And  they  were  glad,  and  commanded  to  give  him 


money." 


Dom  Balthazar  had  now  abided  with  us  nearly 
three  months.  During  the  whole  of  this  period, 
with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  the  first  week  I 
passed  at  Norwood,  I  felt  uneasy,  restless,  agitated 
by  a  dim  uncertain  fear  of  an  impending  danger. 
Wherever  I  went  his  eye  was  upon  me.  He 
seemed  to  watch  my  every  movement.  I  could 
have  no  interview  with  Francesca,  nor  was  it 
possible  for  me  to  have.  Manasam  was  gone 
away  to  a  distant  part  of  the  country  ;  Akiba  was 
laid  up  with   illness;   the  journey  to  Norwood 


114       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

having  proved  too  much  for  one  of  his  advanced 
years.  Everything  seemed  to  conspire  against 
me.  I  knew  not  what  was  the  matter — yet  was 
I  sure  that  something  evil  was  lowering  above  my 
head.  Meanwhile  Dom  Balthazar  was  swaggering 
about  in  his  usual  style ;  he  did  not  seek  to  come 
into  any  open  collision  with  me.  We  both  shunned 
each  other  as  if  by  mutual  consent — yet  were 
both  perpetually  thrown  together  and  clashing  in 
some  odd,  unaccountable  way,  that  between 
friends  would  have  been  awkward,  but  between 
sworn  enemies  like  us,  was  particularly  disagree- 
able. There  was  a  mocking  sneer  about  his  lip 
whenever  he  saw  me.  But  what  could  I  do  ?  He 
could  have  crushed  me  like  a  bird  or  a  smelt, 
within  his  iron  grasp — his  thews  and  muscles 
were  like  cords  of  steel,  and  his  resolution  was 
equal  to  his  strength. 

He  seemed  to  have  no  occupation.  He  lived 
among  the  tribe  like  an  independent  nobleman. 
He  had  plenty  of  gold,  which  he  exhibited  with  a 
careless  improvidence;  he  had  but  to  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and  it  immediately  appeared 
laden  with  guineas.  These  he  distributed 
freely  among  the  Gitanos — as  freely  indeed, 
as  if  his  resources  were  inexhaustible.  Yet 
it  was  not  this  lavish  profusion  so  much  as 
some   mysterious   influence    about    him,    which 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  115 

seemed  to  consolidate  his  power.  Despite  his 
roughness,  blasphemy,  contempt  of  all  things 
sacred  and  divine ;  his  mockery  of  the  women, 
and  his  assumption  that  they  were  all  detestable, 
and  the  audacious  arrogance  with  which  he  re- 
counted his  own  personal  admixture  among  the 
most  degrading  and  infamous  exploits,  all  of 
which  would  have  been  quite  enough  to  destroy 
any  ordinary  adventurer,  and  certainly  tended  to 
make  him  odious  to  all  the  gypsies,  there  was  an 
indefinable  something  about  him  which  spoke  of 
force,  and  the  consciousness  of  an  importance 
among  his  people  which  produced  its  effect  upon 
the  mind ;  and  the  Queen  herself  and  her  chief 
councillors  acknowledged  his  sway,  or  at  all 
events,  did  not  disdain  to  play  a  subordinate  part 
while  he  was  present.  He  issued  commands 
and  they  were  obeyed  ;  he  advised  measures  and 
they  were  adopted ;  he  prescribed  routes  and 
they  were  followed;  he  organised  expeditions 
and  they  were  carried  out.  In  a  word  he  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  usurped  the  part  of  a  prime 
minister,  nor  was  his  adoption  of  the  character 
disputed  or  denied. 

All  this  was  particularly  odious  to  me.  I  knew 
the  frailty  of  my  hold  on  these  people ;  my  tenure 
in  fact  depended  more  on  their  caprice  than  on 
any  other  basis.     I  had  now   lived  for  two  years 


116  .EDWARD   W0RTLEY    MONTAGU. 

with  them,  during  which  I  had  certainly  made 
many  friends,  but  the  Calero  character  is  fickle 
in  the  extreme ;  the  revolutions  of  a  second 
overset  it  from  its  whole  foundation.  Indians 
in  descent,  they  have  all  the  qualities  of  that 
mercurial  race ;  easily  impressible  by  the  fancy 
of  the  moment,  they  will  be  ready  to  die  for  you 
to-day,  and  destroy  you  to-morrow,  just  as  you 
happen  to  appear  to  their  excitable  imaginations. 
I  was  well  aware  that  I  had  done  nothing  for 
these  people  in  return  for  the  amount  of  hospit- 
able kindness  which  they  had  shewn  to  me  ;  they 
had  fed  and  clothed  me  for  a  long  time ;  nor  did 
there  seem  the  remotest  possibility  that  I  should 
be  ever  able  to  remunerate  them.  They  had 
sheltered  me  when  I  was  a  houseless  wanderer. 
All  fealty  was  due  to  me  from  them.  I  was 
conscious  of  the  most  ardent  desire  to  prove 
my  gratitude,  and  display  my  loyalty  ;  but  what 
availed  the  gratitude  and  loyalty  of  a  stripling  of 
seventeen,  if  either  or  both  were  to  be  balanced 
against  the  strength  of  gold,  or  the  mysterious 
influence  of  a  man  like  Dora  Balthazar,  who 
evidently  had  immense  resources  at  his  command, 
had  a  profound  and  horrible  antipathy  to  myself, 
and  was  by  no  means  likely  to  falter  in  gratify- 
ing it  by  any  scruples  of  conscience,  or  suggc 
tions  of  fear  ? 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       11? 

But  whence  originated  this  fiery  hate  which  it 
was  now  obvious  raged  in  both  our  hearts  ?  This, 
0  reader  !  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  mankind 
which  never  have  been,  and  never  can  be  solved, 
unless  by  the  doctrine  of  our  pre-existence 
in  some  former  condition  of  being,  before  we 
breathed  the  air  of  earth.  For  how  else  can  that 
dread  hostility  which  at  the  first  view  exists 
between  two  men,  arise  and  be  explained,  except 
on  the  supposition  that  they  were  deadly  foes  in 
some  other  sphere  of  existence  ?  I  go  into  a 
theatre,  or  drawing-room,  whose  carpet  I  have 
never  crossed  until  this  night ;  I  see  a  man  or 
woman  there  whom  I  never  saw  before  to  the  best 
of  my  belief.  We  look  on  each  other,  and  vivid 
hate  is  seen  in  the  eyes  of  each;  a  cold  chill 
creeps  over  the  frame;  some  nerve  within  the 
heart  seems  to  quiver ;  a  nameless  weight  and 
oppression,  a  feeling  of  disgust,  or  fear,  or 
antipathy  arises  between  us;  each  views  the 
other  with  scorn  or  with  an  icy  glare  that  fills  one 
for  the  moment  with  a  tormenting  sensation. 
This  cannot  be  mere  accident ;  it  must  be  some- 
thing more  than  want  of  harmony  ;  neither  does 
it  always  arise  from  a  mutual  repulsion ;  I  have 
myself  been  seized  by  this  feeling  against  a  man 
who  exhibited  no  similar  dislike  to  myself;  I 
have  myself  been  an  object  of  virulent  hatred  and 


118  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

persecution  by  persons  to  whom  I  had  no  distaste 
at  all,  whom  I  was  not  conscious  of  having 
offended,  and  whom  I  really  would  not  iDJure, 
even  though  the  most  favourable  opportunity  for 
doing  so  were  presented  to  my  very  hand. 

How  then  can  it  be  rationally  explained  ?     In 
no  way  except  as  my  Gooroo  explained  it — we 
were  foes  in  a  former  life  ;  we  lived   and  hated ; 
and  one  of  us  probably  became  the  victim  of  the 
other.     I  know  a  man  at  this    present  moment, 
who  stands  high  in  the  world,  a  fine  scholar,  a 
civil  gentleman,  and  so  forth — yet  I   never  by 
accident  find  myself  in  his  presence  without  feel- 
ing satisfied  that  he   once  deprived  me  of  life. 
His  company  becomes  odious,  hateful,  fearful  to 
me ;  my  blood  runs  cold  as  ice  from  brain  to  heel ; 
I  have  the  idea  all  through  of  blood,  blood,  blood  ; 
of  fierce  tusks  or  claws  ;  of  something  ferocious, 
savage   and  sanguinary.     My   flesh  creeps  ;  my 
blood  curdles ;  if  I  were  to   be  beside  that  man 
for  an  hour,  I  should  swoon;  if  I  were  to  be  near 
him  for  a  month,  I  should  die.     This  is  not  mere 
antipathy,  for  I  have  none  towards  him.     I  have 
laboured  hard  to    divest  myself  of  the  feeling;  I 
have  accosted  him  in  friendly  spirit — but  all  is 
useless.     I  never  can  get  over  this  fixed  idea ;  or 
fail  to  associate  him  with  death  in  my  own  miad. 
J  robablv  it  may  be  said,  he  is  destined  to  murder 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  119 

me ;  and  perhaps  this  would  be  a  fair  answer  to 
my  argument,  while  we  both  live.  I  can  only 
remark,  however,  that  at  present  there  seems  no 
possible  chance  of  such  a  contingency  ;  it  seems, 
in  sooth,  the  most  unlikely  event  that  could  occur. 
But  whether  I  have  at  one  time  been  his  victim, 
or  whether  he  is  destined  at  some  future  period 
to  destroy  me,  I  never  can  get  rid  of  the  strong 
and  powerful  idea  that  he  has  revelled  in  my 
blood,  and  drank  it  hot  as  it  flowed  out  of  my 
heart.     And  I  believe  he  has. 

This,  however,  was  not  precisely  the  feeling 
which  I  entertained  towards  Dom  Balthazar. 
Towards  him  there  was  fierce  and  burning  hatred  ; 
but  no  fear  mingled  with  my  sensation.  On  the 
contrary,  while  I  detested,  I  felt  myself  in  spirit 
at  least  his  master.  As  boy  to  man,  I  was  of 
course  no  match  for  him  ;  he  could  have  crushed 
me  at  a  blow ;  but  as  spirit  marshalled  against 
spirit,  I  felt  that  mine  was  the  superior,  and  that 
I  either  conquered  him  in  some  other  place,  or 
would  eventually  do  so  here.  Even  in  his 
sternest  moods,  and  when  his  hard  eye  was  fixed 
on  me  with  a  concentrated  glare  like  that  of 
Medusa,  I  confronted  him  with  an  unquailing 
gaze,  and  stared  him  down ;  his  shaggy  lashes 
were  lowered,  and  his  dark  glance  was  arrested, 


120       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

as  if  in  fear ;  he  could  not  bear  my  fixed  and  lion 
look.     At  these  periods  I  could  see  that  he  shook 
all  over ;  but  whether  with  rancour  or  apprehen- 
sion, I  could  not  of  course  guess.     But   it  in- 
variably happened  that  after  a  conflict  of  this 
kind,  he  sought  to  tempt  me  into  open  quarrel, 
by  taunts,  or  hints,  or  shrugs,  or  insinuations  of 
my  falsehood,  cowardice,  or  treachery.     I  bore  all, 
however,  for  it  would  have  been  insanity  to  have 
entered  into  a  fray  with  this  strong  and  deadly 
man,  who,  if  he  failed  in  bodily  vigour— a  most 
unlikely   chance — would  not   have    scrupled    to 
resort  to  one  of  his  Spanish  arguments  with  the 
dagger,  and  would  have  deprived  me  of  life  with 
no  more  scruple  than  a  cat  exhibits  to  an  unhappy 
mouse.     And  if  so  taken  off,  what  motive  could 
there  be  in  any  one  of  the  tribe  to  exert  them- 
selves to  bring    a  brother  to  justice  for  the  sake 
of  a  wandering  stranger  like  myself? 

"  Zala-Mayna,"  said  he  to  me,  one  day,  "  why 
do  you  linger  here  among  these  people  ?  you  are 
not  of  their  blood ;  you  never  can  be  reconciled 
wholly  to  their  customs.  You  are  young,  bold, 
brave,  handsome;  why  chain  yourself  down  to 
the  career  of  a  vagabond,  when  you  might  be  a 
soldier  and  a  hero?" 

"  Dom  Balthazar,"  I  answered,    "  when  I  am 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  121 

sure  that  you  take  sufficient  interest  in  my  wel- 
fare to  justify  you  in  questioning  me,  then  I  will 
answer  you,  but  not  till  then." 

His  eye  quailed;  his  lip  quivered;  his  liver 
grew  white  within  him.  But  he  affected  then  to 
be  in  a  most  companionable  mood. 

"  Nay,"  said  he,  "  I  know  not  why  you  should 
repel  me,  or  why  you  should  suspect  that  any  but 
a  friendly  feeling  has  prompted  my  question. 
You  are  young.  I  am  a  man  who  has  travelled 
much,  observed  much,  and  suffered  much.  I  have 
traversed  nearly  the  whole  habitable  earth,  and 
can  put  you  in  the  way  of  great  adventure.  I 
see  that  this  is  your  desire ;  more  than  that,  it  is 
your  destiny  ;  you  cannot  avoid ;  you  must  fulfil 
it.  Why,  then,  should  you  spurn  a  man  who 
could  put  you  in  the  way  of  achieving  that  very 
end  for  which  Fate  has  marked  you  ?" 

"  And  what  may  that  be,  most  excellent  Dom 
Balthazar  ?  stabbing  negroes  in  the  Pyrenees  ? 
Keeping  guard  at  Ahlen  ?  carrying  messages  to 
devil-kings  ?  selling  poisons  to  unfaithful  wives  ? 
None  of  these  will  suit  me." 

"  No,"  he  said,  u  not  these,  nor  such  as  these. 
In  the  vast  deserts  of  Arabia  there  are  tribes  who 
make  the  bravest  to  be  their  king.  Follow  me, 
and  I  will  lead  you  to  tbem  ;  with  your  know- 
ledge and  your  right  arm,  you  may  be  a  second 

vol.  ii.  a 


122  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

Ahmed,  at  the  head  of  a  new  faith,  and  extend- 
ing your  conquering  banner  from  Stamboul  to 
Rome  or  London.  Again,  there  are  princes  in 
India  who  require  the  arts,  the  sciences,  the  skill 
of  Europe,  and  will  repay  their  owner  with  king- 
doms and  with  peoples.  All  these  are  yours,  or 
may  be  yours — what  hinders  Zala-Mayna  from 
wearing  the  crown  of  Aureng  Zebe,  or  following  in 
the  triumphant  path  of  Tamerlane,  or  Chengiz  ?" 

"  I  answer  your  question  by  putting  another — 
what  hinders  you  from  doing  all  these  fine  things, 
which  you  kindly  reserve  for  me  ?" 

"  Many  obstacles  interpose — the  first  and 
greatest  is  my  age.  I  am  no  longer  young  like 
you.  I  am  fifty — what  man  of  fifty  could  achieve 
what  I  have  marked  out  unless  he  had  passed  his 
youth  in  laying  the  foundation  for  it  ?  Again,  I 
am  not  learned  as  you  are ;  and  it  is  now  too  late 
for  me  to  go  to  school.  Finally,  I  am  no  longer 
ambitious.  I  have  gained  all  I  need ;  and  my 
years  require  repose.  But  you  have  a  future 
before  you.     All  mine  is  in  the  Past." 

"  Nevertheless,  Dom  Balthazar,  I  am  content, 
and  will  not  seek  my  fortune  in  the  way  you  point 
out.     My  fortune  is  with — " 

I  was  about  to  add,  "  Francesca,"  but  I  stopped 
myself  in  time.  I  had  never  breathed  her  name 
to  this  villain.     It  would  have  beeu  a  sacrilege. 


EDWARD  WORTLEf  MONTAGU.      123 

N  Ah,"  said  he,  u  I  know  what  you  would  say 
— hut  you  are  wrong,  you  will  fail.  Poor  youth — 
you  are,  indeed,  infatuated."  And  he  left  me 
with  a  scornful  sneer,  more  burning  than  Alecto's 
torch  unto  my  heart. 

Oh !  how  I  wished  for  wings  to  bear  her  off 
from  this  hateful  bully's  presence;  from  his 
machinations  against  both ;  for  now  I  felt  con- 
vinced that  he  was  devising  evil ;  and  how  I 
longed  to  possess  some  magic  art  whereby  I 
could  dive  into  his  heart,  detect  his  secret,  what- 
ever it  was,  and  meet  him  with  his  own  artifices. 
Lose  her !  lose  my  Francesca  !  the  very  thought 
was  death.  But  how  secure  her  ?  I  was  alone 
helpless,  a  boy,  a  beggar,  living  almost  on  the 
alms  of  the  Gitanos.  I  was  in  the  centre  of  a 
tribe  with  fierce  passions,  watched,  probably,  by 
a  hundred  eyes,  each  quick  and  keen  as  that  of 
a  serpent ;  for  now  it  flashed  on  my  mind  like 
lightning  that  of  late  wherever  I  had  been,  I 
always  saw  a  gypsy  boy  or  girl  loitering  near; 
sometimes  peering  into  the  grass,  sometimes 
rifling  the  bushes,  sometimes  lingering  about  the 
hedges,  as  if  in  search  of  birds'  nests.  I  had  not 
noticed  it  before,  but  now  it  ran  through  my 
whole  being  like  an  illuminating  flood. 

M  Yes,"  1  cried,  "  doubtless  there  is  truth  in 
the  man's  words.     Manasam  is  away ;  Akiba  is 

G  2 


124  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

ill,  experimented  upon,  doubtless,  by  some  of 
Balthazar's  potions.  Why  suffers  the  old  man 
now  for  a  whole  month  ?  Such  a  thing  never 
happened  before.  1  must  watch  ;  I  must  spy.  I 
must  discover  what  is  going  on,  or  I  am  un- 
done." 

I  went  home  to  my  tent,  I  flung  myself  on  my  bed, 
dressed  as  I  was,  but  I  could  not  sleep ;  I  was  rest- 
less ;  I  turned  from  side  to  side ;  my  brain  worked 
incessantly,  it  went  round  and  round  like  a  revolv- 
ing water  wheel ;  an  uneasy  passion   convulsed 
me ;  in  vain  I  closed  my  eyes  and  sought  repose  ; 
in  vain  I  tried  to  lull  my  quick-growing  thoughts. 
I  seemed  to  lie  in  a  bed  of  torture ;  sleep   was 
wholly  banished  from  my  lids.  The  hours  marched 
on ;  all  was  still ;  the  watch  dogs  were  asleep ; 
I  could  only  hear  the  neigh  of  our  horses  as  they 
communicated  at  intervals  together.     Something 
evil  is  being  devised,  I  thought ;  this  restlessness 
is  supernatural.     Let  me  explore  it.     I  rose  and 
peeped  out  of  my  tent.     The  night  was  pitch  dark. 
I  could  not  trace  the  outline  of  the  Downs  as  they 
mingled   with  the   ebon  sky,  but   saw   a  light 
penetrating  through    a  chink  ;  1  crept  softly  out 
on  my  nice  and  hands  in  the  direction  from  which 
the  gleam   shone.     Not  a  sound  was  heard  save 
the  twitter  of  a  bird  occasionally  in  the  thicket. 
One  of  our  dogs,  startled  from  his  sleep,  came 


EDWAKD  WORTLET   MONTAGU.  125 

near  me  and  smelled  at  me.  I  stilled  him  with 
my  hand;  he  knew  my  touch.  I  bowed  him 
down  to  the  ground,  and  he  moved  not;  he 
seemed  to  understand  that  I  wished  to  be  un- 
observed ;  he  made  no  sign,  but  I  could  see  he 
watched  me  with  anxious  eyes.  Over  the  damp 
grass  I  crept  still;  I  could  hear  my  beating 
heart.  My  thoughts  were  wound  up  to  a  point, 
and  now  I  knew  the  tent  from  which  the  light 
flashed.  It  was  that  appropriated  to  Dom 
Balthazar.  I  heard  the  sounds  of  conversation. 
There  were  evidently  more  than  two  within.  I 
glided  on  and  on  until  I  was  hidden  beneath  its 
side,  burning  with  restless  curiosity  to  learn  my 
fate,  for  I  felt  that  it  was  now  at  stake.  Gradually 
I  came  nearer  and  nearer,  until  I  was  close  to 
the  place.  I  hid  myself  at  the  back  of  the  tent. 
To  look  within  was,  of  course,  out  of  the  ques- 
tion ;  but  in  a  moment  I  knew  all  the  voices.  I 
had  no  need  to  learn  more.  Dom  Balthazar  was 
there,  the  Gypsy  QueeD,  and  Giacomo.  These  con- 
stituted the  three  great  powers  of  our  community. 
Dom  Balthazar  was  speaking  when  I  got  near. 

"  Thus  it  is,"  said  he,  "  my  brother,  this  is  a 
Busne — in  our  tents  is  not  his  home ;  he  must 
abide  there  no  longer.  In  a  week  I  shall  find 
out  his  birth,  his  place,  and  why  he  is  among  us. 
The  watch  which  you  have  just  given  me  will  be 


126  EDWARD   WOBTLEY  MONTAGU. 

a  clue  to  all.  The  symbol  of  the  eagle  is  merely 
the  coat  of  arms  of  his  family ;  for  these  ^entilei 
think  it  fine  to  say  they  are  descended  from  birds 
and  beasts.  They  worship  not  idols  of  wood 
or  stone.  So  they  swear,  and  so,  I  suppose,  they 
think ;  but  their  great  ones  worship  images  of 
this  kind  more  truly  than  they  worship  their  God ; 
they  make  them  to  be  their  religion,  for  those 
are  emblems  of  rank  and  power,  which  are  their 
only  creed.  They  would  sooner  abandon  all  than 
relinquish  these  baubles  ;  sons  of  devils  !  yet  thus 
they  seek  to  cheat  their  grand  progenitor.  I  have 
said  it — he  must  go." 

"But  our  faith  is  pledged  to  him."  said 
Giaconio,  "  he  hath  become  as  one  of  ourselves. 
He  hath  broken  our  bread,  hath  learned  our 
language,  hath  slept  in  our  tents,  hath  sworn  and 
kept  fealty  to  us." 

"  What  of  that?  It  was  not  with  him  ye  made 
a  league,  but  another  wholly  different,  whom  ye 
supposed  him  to  be.  He  hath  come  here  under 
a  mask.  The  mask  is  off,  and  ye  see  he  is  an 
impostor.  What  further  have  ye  to  do  with 
him  ?" 

'*  But  my  heart  clings  to  him  nevertheless," 
says  the  Gypsy  Queen ;  "  he  is  a  good  youth,  and 
hath  behaved  well." 

"  It  will  be   worth  gold   to  us, "   answered 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  127 

Balthazar  ;  "  if,  as  I  suppose,  his  parents  are 
people  of  condition,  they  will  give  a  large  sum  for 
his  recovery." 

The  eyes  of  all  three  sparkled  at  this.  I  could 
not  see  them,  indeed,  but  my  heart  instinctively 
felt  it.  Place  gold  before  a  gypsy,  and  he  is 
half  mad.  Mention  the  accursed  thing,  and  all 
other  considerations  vanish.  There  was  silence 
for  some  minutes,  as  if  each  was  ruminating  over 
the  luxurious  idea  which  the  bare  name  had 
called  up. 

The  Gypsy  Queen  first  resumed — 
"  He  is  a  Busne,  doubtless,"  she  said,  "  and  be 
hath  lived  on  our  people  now  for  two  years. 
Gold  will  only  repay  us ;  besides,  his  mother 
will  be  glad.  I  suppose  she  weeps  for  his  loss. 
She  will  give  gold  in  many  a  purse  for  his  re- 
covery." 

I  could  not  help  smiling  bitterly  at  this,  "  His 
mother  will  be  glad."  The  charming  serpent — - 
no,  seraph — but  both  mean  the  same  thing  in 
the  Hebrew.  I  knew  how  glad  she  would  be. 
She  would  be  glad,  no  doubt,  to  send  me  back  to 
my  school  torturers ;  to  remove  away  for  ever  the 
living  witness  of  her  folly. 

"  Well,"  said  Giacomo,  "  there  will  be  gold — 
but  if  not,  he  shall  stay.     I  will  depend  upon  his 


128  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

faith.  Besides,  if  he  goes,  what  becomes  of 
her?" 

"  Of  whom  quotha  ?"  asked  Balthazar. 

"  Nay,  my  brother,  thou  surely  must  know 
this.  I  speak  of  Francesca,  his  betrothed 
bride." 

"  But  she  also  is  a  Busne.      She  also  must 

go-" 

The  Gypsy  Queen  started ;  she  was  evidently 

excited  by  the  threat.     The  little  girl  had  twined 

herself  around  that  rugged  heart. 

"  Francesca  must  not  go,"  she  said. 

"  She  shall,"  simply  answered  Dom  Balthazar. 
There  was  a  toue  of  decision  about  this  short 
speech  which  cut  through  my  heart.  I  suppose 
it  had  its  effect  also  on  both  his  companions  ;  for 
neither  contradicted  Balthazar. 

"  She  cannot  get  her  living  like  the  true 
Calore,"  he  said;  "she  cannot  be  a  burden  to  us, 
and  to  our  children.  We  eat  not  the  bread  of 
idleness — why  should  she? — the  daughter  of  a 
Busne — of  a  Gentile — of  a  dog  ?  Besides,  she 
also  is  worth  gold." 

u  What  mean  you,  Dom  Balthazar  ?"  said 
both. 

Their  eager  curiosity  affrighted  me.  It  was  an 
evil  omen. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  129 

u  There  are  ten  hundred  pieces  of  red  gold  for 
him  that  will  deliver  her  over  to  a  man  who 
wants  her.  He  is  not  safe  while  she  is  free. 
He  will  do  her  no  harm — only  send  her  to  Spain 
to  be  a  nun,  I  think.  Will  the  Calore  say  unto 
the  man  of  ten  hundred  pieces,  '  Begone — we 
want  thee  not.     We  are  rich.'  " 

rt  But  who  is  this  man  ?"  asked  Giacomo. 

"  He  is  her  uncle,"  answered  Dom  Balthazar. 
"  I  know  him  ;  he  sent  me  here.  The  gold  is 
ready  when  the  girl  is  his." 

A  long  and  dreadful  pause  followed.  My  fate 
was  now  in  the  balance.  I  felt  like  a  criminal 
who  awaits  the  verdict  that  is  to  set  him  free 
once  again  in  the  bright  open  air,  or  to  send  him 
to  the  gallows  with  bolt  and  gyve.  I  could 
count  the  pulses  of  my  heart.  I  could  number 
the  throbbings  of  my  temples  ;  it  seemed  an  age. 
At  length  Giacomo  spoke. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  Dom  Balthazar,  with  you 
be  it.  Bring  the  purses ;  the  Busne  girl  may 
go.  I  suppose  the  boy  will  soon  follow  her. 
Farewell,"  and  they  rose  as  if  to  separate.  I 
retreated  rapidly.  I  got  into  my  tent.  I  flung 
myself  on  my  bed.  Suddenly  I  heard  a  noise — 
a  footstep,  as  if  one  entered.  I  closed  my  eyes  ; 
I  breathed  heavily.  The  person  stooped — lis- 
tened ;  he  brought  his  horrid  eyes  near  mine.     I 

g  5 


130  EDWARD  WOBTLEY   MONTAGU. 

knew  by  instinct  it  was  he — the  accursed  fiend 
Balthazar.  But  I  moved  not.  The  thought  oc- 
curred, "Is  he  going  to  murder  me  in  my  sleep?" 
Well — I  must  risk  it.  I  did  not  move.  He 
muttered,  "  It  is  right,"  and  stole  away. 

The  next  day,  Dom  Balthazar  departed.  I 
knew  where  he  was  gone — to  London  to  make 
enquiries.  I  went  into  the  town  and  bought  a 
map  of  the  roads.  No  time  was  to  be  lost ;  every 
nerve  and  muscle  I  had  was  braced  up  for  the 
occasion  of  this  great  crisis.  I  knew  that  if  I 
faltered  now  I  was  undone.  If  I  were  separated 
from  Francesca,  or  she  from  me,  what  was  to 
b  ecome  of  her  ?  She  would  be  handed  over  to 
the  uncle; — what  guarantee  was  there  that  he 
would  not  destroy  her?  He  had  already  killed 
her  parents.  Why  should  he  spare  the  child?  I 
did  not  believe  one  word  of  the  convent  in  Spain, 
or  the  tale  that  she  was  to  be  made  a  nun.  How 
was  he  more  safe  with  her  among  the  priests 
than  with  the  gypsies?  The  priests  were  the 
Soldiers  of  the  Vatican.  Here  was  the  heiress 
of  a  great  estate,  and  an  ancient  peerage  in  their 
hands.  What  might  they  not  accomplish  if 
they  restored  her  to  both  ?  First  of  all,  her  own 
devotion  to  their  cause, — her  wealth,  her  name, 
her  influence,  her  family  connections,  no  doubt 
powerful.     This  would  be  a  great  deal.  Secondly, 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  131 

and  this  would,  perhaps,  weigh  more  with  them, 
the  renown  through  Europe  of  having  done  a 
transcendent  piece  of  justice.  This  story,  there- 
fore, was  evidently .  nonsense.  It  could  impose 
but  on  fools.  Onlv  her  death  could  make  him 
secure — and  who  could  doubt  that  any  scruple  of 
conscience  would  interfere  to  stay  him  ? 

I  bought  my  map,  and  carefully  studied  it.  I 
made  myself  a  thorough  master  of  the  roads  to 
London.  Upon  this  point,  therefore,  I  was  satis- 
fied. But  how  communicate  with  Francesca? 
She  was  securely  guarded ;  all  intercourse  be- 
tween us  seemed  prohibited.  Nothing,  it  is  true, 
had  been  either  said  or  done,  which  could  be 
considered  a  denial  of  access.  Nevertheless, 
there  seemed  a  moral  chain  about  us  both  which 
we  could  not  break.  She  was,  in  fact  watched, 
no  doubt  as  vigilantly  as  I  myself  was  watched. 
Well,  I  said,  I  shall  outwatch  the  watcher.  She 
must  be  saved,  or  I  will  perish.  I  knew  she  had 
unbounded  faith  in  me.  I  knew  that  with  one 
word  she  would  follow  me  all  over  the  earth.  No 
persuasion,  no  tedious  argument  would  be  needed 
could  I  only  once  approach  her.  But  she  lay  in 
the  tent  of  the  Queen  gypsy,  and  that  was  always 
carefully  guarded.  Here  she  was  confined  night 
and  day.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  Time  pressed. 
Balthazar  would  return.      All  hope  would  then 


132  EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU. 

be  ended.  I  should  probably  be  seized,  gagged, 
and  taken  away — home,  or  to  a  ship,  or  I  knew 
not  whither.  I  watched,  and  watched,  and  still 
I  watched,  but  no  communication  could  I  make. 
I  could  not  send  her  the  slightest  token  from  my 
hand. 

Five  nights  thus  passed.  My  agony  during 
all  this  time  I  never  shall  forget.  I  dreaded  the 
lapse  of  every  hour  lest  it  should  bring  back 
Dom  Balthazar.  The  sixth  sunset  came,  and  with 
it  departed  nearly  all  my  hopes.  "  To-night,"  I 
said,  "  or  never."  I  had  marked  out  two  of  the 
best  horses  in  the  encampment.  They  were 
strong,  docile,  and  swift.  They  knew  me  well. 
I  had  often  fed  them,  they  had  licked  my  hands, 
they  had  come  to  me  for  bread,  which  was  never 
refused.  I  took  care  that  they  should  remain 
idle  all  the  week.  This  required  a  little  manage- 
ment, but  none  suspected  my  design.  I  procured 
some  clothes,  a  basket  of  food,  a  lantern,  and 
made  free  with  a  pair  of  double-barrelled  pistols 
which  were  in  Manasam's  tent.  These  I  loaded. 
I  had  a  couple  of  daggers  also,  and  a  large  horse- 
man's cloak.  1  got  some  quick  poison,  which  I 
wrapped  up  carefully  in  some  pieces  of  meat,  and 
with  these  I  proceeded  towards  the  tent  of  the 
Gypsy  Queen,  about  midnight.  The  horses  I  led 
gently  close  by,  and  tethered  them  to  a  bush  ;  the 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  133 

pack  saddles  were  on  their  backs.  On  my  arm  I 
bore  the  horseman's  cloak  loose,  and  Manasam's 
pistols  were  in  my  belt.  The  dogs  knew  me, 
they  barked  not ;  bat  had  I  sought  to  enter  the 
tent  they  would  have  torn  me  in  pieces.  I  flung 
them  the  meat ;  they  swallowed  it,  and  in  a  few 
moments  lay  lifeless.  Then  I  stole  into  the  tent. 
I  knew  where  Francesca  slept.  I  crept  noise- 
lessly to  where  she  slept.  I  could  perceive  by 
her  breathing  that  she  was  not  asleep — she  wept 
I  sighed  into  her  ear,  "  Francesca,  T  am  here ;  I 
am  come  to  save  you  from  ruin — death.  Get  up 
quickly,  and  follow  me.  There  is  not  a  moment 
to  be  lost."  I  think  she  gave  a  slight  scream, 
but  she  knew  my  voice.  A  harsh  murmur  was 
heard  ;  some  one  came  from  another  part  of  the 
tent.  I  was  suddenly  grappled  by  the  throat. 
Then  exerting  all  my  strength  I  flung  off  the 
Gypsy  Queen,  for  it  was  she,  and  cried  out, 
'*  Quick,  quick,  Francesca,  or  we  are  undone. 
With  me  life  and  love — with  them  your  uncle  and 
death."  I  flung  the  cloak  round  her,  she  clung 
to  me.  A  terrific  scream  was  heard.  It  was 
from  the  Gypsy  Queen.  u  Treason,"  she  cried, 
M  treason !  Rescue  'ere  it  be  too  late."  She 
pulled  a  large  bell,  which  was  at  the  entrance  of 
her  tent,  and  which  I  had  never  seen  before. 
The  sound  rang  through  my  ears  like  a  death 


134  EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

knell.  From  all  sides  a  confused  murmur  was 
heard.  I  heard  loud  and  threatening  voices — 
tones  that  gurgled  blood.  Again  she  grappled 
me ;  again  I  flung  her  off,  and  again  she  screamed. 
"Treason,  treason;  Zala-Mayna  murders  me." 
The  shouts  of  the  people  increased,  they  were  all 
but  on  me.  I  bore  Francesca,  who  had  fainted, 
in  my  arms  away  into  the  open  air ;  the  cold  air 
revived  her.  I  placed  her  on  one  of  the  horses, 
and  mounted  the  other  myself.  All  tins  happened 
in  one  minute — quicker  far  than  I  have  described 
it.  The  gypsies  surrounded  us — they  were  half 
naked  and  variously  armed.  Luckily  the  dark- 
ness was  in  my  favour.  None  of  them  had 
brought  a  light ;  the  hurry  and  confusion  sus- 
pended their  faculties.  I  struck  the  horses 
fiercely;  they  leaped  and  trampled  down  the 
crowd.  A  terrible  howl  arose — a  shout  of  pain, 
anger,  madness,  and  revenge.  Suddenly  three  or 
four  of  the  gypsies  mounted  horses  and  began  to 
pursue  us.  Away  along  the  high  road  we  sped, 
the  stars  glittered  on  the  sleeping  ocean;  all 
seemed  peace  and  beauty ;  but  the  holy  silence  of 
the  night  was  broken  by  curses  and  terrible 
threats.  We  soon  out-distanced  our  pursuers, 
but  we  heard  their  following  footsteps  for  a  long 
time.  We  slackened  our  pace.  A  solitary  horse- 
man rode  leisurely  towards  us.     He  seemed  a 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  135 

spectre.  My  heart  felt  a  foreboding;  I  drew 
forth  a  pistol,  for  never  did  I  disregard  that  silent 
monitor,  which  is  a  divine  voice  within  us.  As 
he  came  near,  the  moon  came  from  behind  a  cloud, 
and  disclosed  the  dark  hellish  features  of  Dom 
Balthazar.  We  both  saw  each  other  at  the  same 
instant  of  time.  He  turned  white  with  rage  and 
astonishment.  He  put  his  hand  into  his  breast 
as  if  feeling  for  a  weapon,  and  drew  forth  a  dag 
ger.  He  leaped  his  horse  upon  me ;  but  I  avoided 
him.  As  I  passed  he  aimed  at  my  breast,  but 
missed  his  stroke.  He  then  turned  to  Francesca ; 
she  was  close  behind  me.  He  interposed.  I 
called  out  to  her  "  Jump !"  She  struck  her  horse 
a  quick  blow,  and  he  also  passed  the  steed  of 
Dom  Balthazar.  I  could  see  the  devil  quiver  in 
his  face.  He  was  a  picture  of  all  the  hate  of 
hell  concentrated  into  one  small  compass.  We 
passed  on  rapidly,  but  were  pursued  rapidly.  He 
rode  a  powerful  steed,  and  soon  began  to  gain 
upon  us.  Francesca  trembled ;  I  almost  despaired 
of  escape.  His  horse  snorted  on  our  shoulders. 
Suddenly  I  whirled  round.  I  could  -have  shot 
him  dead  that  moment,  but  1  knew  it  was  need- 
less, I  will  not  shed  blood,  I  thought,  now  ;  if 
I  kill  him  I  shall  be  pursued  as  a  murderer  and 
taken.  What  will  then  become  of  Francesca? 
This  reasoning  seems  the  result  of  cool  and  pro- 


136  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

found  calculation.  But  it  was  the  instinctive 
wisdom  of  the  instant.  It  was  the  thought  of 
less  than  half  a  second.  As  he  was  close  upon 
me,  evidently  wondering  why  I  had  ceased  to 
gallop,  I  fired  and  his  horse  fell  dead.  The  bullet 
had  entered  his  brain.  Dom  Balthazar  tumbled 
heavily  to  the  ground.  I  heard  him  groan.  We 
rode  on  all  night,  and  the  next  were  in  London. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  137 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


"Behold  as  wild  asses  in  the  desert,  go  they  forth  to  their  work, 
rising  betimes  for  a  prey ;  the  wilderness  yieldeth  food  for  them, 
and  for  their  children.  *****  And  as  for  thee,  thou  shalt 
be  as  one  of  the  fools  in  Israel." 


0  London,  thou  vast  and  terrible  desert,  how 
shall  I  describe  thee  ? — to  the  duke  rolling  in 
wealth  a  Paradise — to  the  pauper  empty  of  purse, 
a  wilderness  more  blank  than  El  Sahara.  Here 
the  extremes  of  riches  and  poverty  meet ;  here 
they  jostle  every  moment.  In  one  room  I  see 
gold  flung  about  like  ditch  water ;  that  young 
spendthrift  has  just  succeeded  to  the  accumulation 
of  fifty  years  of  fraud  and  meanness,  and  depra- 
vity. He  has  surrounded  himself  with  every 
incentive  to  vice;  loose  women,  jockeys,  prize 


138      EDWARD  W0RTLEY  MONTAGU. 

fighters,  tailors  and  decorators.  He  drinks  up 
the  most  expensive  wines  ;  he  feeds  only  on  the 
most  costly  dishes.  Yet  is  he  at  he.^rt  one  of  the 
dirtiest  and  most  despicable  fellows  that  poisons 
the  atmosphere  he  breathes.  His  soul  is  as  small 
as  that  of  a  toad ;  his  heart  as  base  and  sneaking 
as  that  of  a  polecat.  Fortune  seems  to  have  filled 
his  pockets  with  her  favours,  as  if  in  derision  of 
those  who  think  gold  the  chief  blessing  of  mortals. 
He  can  scarcely  write  his  name ;  he  is  almost 
unable  to  read  the  most  ordinary  volume ;  he  is 
deplorably  ignorant  of  all  things,  but  that  gold 
is  power,  and  that  money  is  luxi;  He  knows 

only  the  vilest  wretches — for  no  others  will  con- 
taminate themselves  by  contact  with  a  fellow  who 
has  no  recommendation  but  his  estate — and  seeing 
in  them  habitual  baseness  and  subserviency,  he 
thinks  all  mankind  are  of  the  same  mould ;  and 
he  disbelieves  in  virtue,  because  he  has  never 
observed  it  in  his  own  select  society.  If  you  read 
his  mind,  you  will  be  amazed  to  find  it  all  a  blank 
— nor  is  the  page  white,  as  most  blank  pages  are  ; 
but  it  is  all  dirt  and  filth,  and  smuttiness.  Yet 
he  spends  ten  thousand  yearly  in  ordure;  and 
London  is  the  home  for  him.  Could  it  but  last 
for  ever,  how  glorious  would  his  condition  be. 

Come  now  with  me  into  the  opposite  end  of 
London.     Let  us  climb  up   this  narrow  flight  of 


EDWAKD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  139 

stairs,  which  creaks  at  every  step.  The  smell  is 
dreadful ;  put  thy  kerchief  to  thy  nose,  and  let 
it  be  well  perfumed,  or  I  shall  never  get  thee 
to  the  garret  Let  us  knock  and  enter.  A 
miserable  pallet  is  on  the  floor ;  a  few  books  are 
strewed  about,  there  is  a  dying  ember  in  the  fire ; 
the  rain  and  cold  outside  pierce  through  these 
crazy  walls  of  misery.  The  air  is  confined ;  the 
window  must  not  be  opened,  or  the  east  wind 
will  penetrate  with  still  greater  force,  and  kill 
the  occupants.  Alas  !  they  are  already  half  dead 
with  every  privation.  These  people  have  kuown 
want  for  years ;  they  are  dying  of  starvation  and 
blood-poisoning,  and  heart  sickness.  The  man 
is  a  scholar,  a  critic,  perhaps  a  poet  filled  with 
the  finest  spirit  of  genius.  He  shone  at  his 
university  ;  the  greatest  triumphs  were  predicted 
for  him.  He  came  to  London,  and  here  he  is. 
He  is  the  miserable  drudge  of  booksellers.  He 
can  get  no  honest  employment ;  he  is  obliged  to 
take  up  with  the  meanest.  He  is  a  bookseller's 
hack.  He  goes  through  every  phase  of  wretched- 
ness. Oh  !  that  his  father  had  but  apprenticed 
him  to  a  trade — had  made  him  a  shoe-black,  or  a 
sweep.  His  life  would  have  been  happier  than  it 
is  now.  He  sits  late  into  the  night  and  writes  a 
piece.  He  passes  the  whole  of  the  following  day 
in  hawking  it  from  shop  to  shop.     In  some  he 


140  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

meets  with  ribaldry,  in  others  savage  rudeness, 
in  all  contempt.  One  of  those  guineas  which 
yonder  squire  is  now  flinging  in  handfuls  to 
Mother  H.  would  make  him  and  his  wife  happy 
for  a  week.  But  this  good  luck  is  denied  him. 
He  crawls  home  at  night,  miserable,  heartbroken, 
cowardly,  scorning  himself  and  life,  and  praying 
for  the  hand  of  death  to  release  him  from  life  and 
London.  Thank  heaven  it  will  soon  come,  and 
he  shall  beg  from  booksellers  no  more. 

Such  were  my  reflections  after  two  or  three 
months'  residence  in  London,  and  while  I  was  yet 
a  sort  of  outcast.  I  felt  their  bitterness  then,  and 
I  recognize  their  truth  still.  But  let  me  go 
back. 

When  I  arrived  in  London,  I  rode  straight  to 
an  old  fashioned  inn  enough — the  Tabard,  in 
Southwark.  I  delivered  over  my  Francesca  to 
the  landlady,  who  behaved  with  as  much  kindness 
as  usually  belongs  to  a  landlady  in  an  inn  ;  and 
after  seeing  our  horses  stabled,  we  supped  and 
separated  for  the  night.  Our  hostess  suspected, 
and  half  hinted  our  elopement,  and  we  did  not 
deny  it.  Of  what  use  could  it  be  to  do  so  ?  This 
interested  her  in  our  welfare, — all  women  like  to 
be  mixed  up  in  an  intrigue.  Next  day  I  sold  the 
horses.  They  were  honestly  worth  ten  guineas 
each,  but  I  got  only  three  guineas  for  the  two. 


EDWARD    WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  141 

The  landlord  introduced  me  to  a  very  pious 
dealer,  and  the  very  pious  dealer  was  so  con- 
scientious that  he  would  not  bid  for  them  himself 
without  consulting  his  foreman ;  and  the  foreman 
thought  them  such  wretched  animals,  that  he 
advised  iiis  master  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them,  lest  they  should  die  on  his  hands  before 
the  week  was  over  :  and  I  was  half  persuaded 
myself  that  what  they  said  was  true,  and  should 
have  probably  given  them  away  as  it  is  said  for  a 
song,  had  not  the  landlord  again  good-naturedly 
pressed  the  matter  on  the  dealer,  and  the  bargain 
was  at  length  made,  greatly  to  my  satisfaction,  and 
that  of  my  worthy  landlord  too3  whom  I  treated 
with  a  bottle  of  wine  on  the  occasion.  But  my 
landlord's  good  nature  did  not  end  here,  for  he  was 
so  apprehensive  that  his  friend  the  dealer  would 
lose  by  the  transaction,  that  he  bought  the  horses 
back  again  from  him ;  and  I  heard  him  a  few 
days  after  bargaining  with  an  old  farmer,  and 
saw  him  get  thirty  golden  guineas  for  the  pair 
that  had  been  sold  for  three.  This  little  trans- 
action rather  opened  my  eyes  to  London  customs  ; 
and  I  began  to  think  that  the  gypsies  after  all, 
were  not  the  only  people  who  earned  a  question- 
able livelihood.  Well,  I  have  since  seen  man- 
kind iu  all  countries  and  under  all  characters, 
and  I  am  not  much  disposed  to  alter  my  opinion. 


142  EDWAED  WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

But  methinks  I  hear  someone  say,  "  Master 
Wortley  Montagu,  art  thou  thyself  so  free  from 
all  blame  in  this  transaction?  What  right  hadst 
thou  to  sell  the  horses  of  the  gypsies  ?  Were 
they  not  in  fact  stolen  ware  ?  and  wert  not  thou 
at  this  very  moment  liable  to  be  hanged  for 
felony?"  I  admit  I  was.  I  half  wish  I  had 
been.  I  should  have  escaped  many  sorrows,  and 
shed  a  novel  lustre  on  our  genealogical  tree.  But 
I  reconciled  the  theft  to  my  conscience  in  this 
way  ;  and  that  same  conscience  of  ours  is  a  mar- 
vellous casuist.  No  Jesuit  was  ever  more  dex- 
trous. In  the  first  place  it  was  essential  to  my 
own  safety — and  this  I  think  high  politicians  and 
statesmen  always  put  forth  as  an  unanswerable 
argument  for  any  departure  from  the  straight 
line  of  morals.  In  the  second,  I  had  left  a  gold 
watch  in  the  gypsies'  hands,  which  was  worth 
sixty  guineas  if  it  was  worth  sixpence — and  this 
doctrine  of  quid  pro  quo  ought,  I  think,  to  satisfy 
the  souls  of  all  who  have  read  (i  Father  Sanchez," 
and  the  u  Seraphic  Thomas  Aquinas,"  on  cases 
of  this  nature.  In  the  third  place,  I  resolved, 
the  moment  I  had  got  any  money,  to  repay  the 
gypsies  for  their  steeds — and  this  I  considered 
then  not  only  conclusive  proof  of  my  perfect 
honesty,  but  also  have  found  since  that  it  is  an 
answer  sanctioned  by  the  universal  practise  of 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.      143 

mankind — except  indeed  in  those  rascally  places, 
courts  of  law,  where  I  once  saw  a  very  honest 
gentleman  sentenced  to  be  hanged,  simply  for 
borrowing  a  diamond  ring  from  a  jeweller,  which 
he  protested  solemnly  to  both  judge  and  jury  he 
intended  to  pay  for  when  he  could.  And  I  have 
no  doubt  he  did — only  that  as  the  time  of  pay- 
ment was  to  be  left  to  his  own  honour,  it  would 
probably  have  been  deferred  longer  than  con- 
venient. Lastly,  I  confess  I  am  now  sincerely 
ashamed  of  the  transaction ;  and  though  I  re- 
mitted a  large  sum  of  money  to  Manasam  some 
years  after,  which  was  more  than  ten  times  the 
value  of  the  horses,  the  pistols  and  all  the  other 
pillage  with  which  1  had  made  off,  and  though 
the  said  sum  was  carefully  by  him  distributed 
among  those  to  whom  it  of  right  belonged,  still  I 
am  by  no  means  easy  about  the  conveyance,  and 
I  am  in  truth  very  sorry  for  it.  But  let  it  pass. 
It  is  one  of  those  errors  in  a  man's  life  which  we 
all  wish  blotted  out,  and  from  which  I  fear  few  of 
us  are  free. 

My  best  course  would  have  been  to  let  the 
horses  loose  when  they  served  my  turn,  and  to 
have  starved  on — but  even  then  I  very  much 
doubt  whether  their  unerring  instinct  would  have 
conducted  them  safely  home — for  there  were  a 
good  many  horse-stealers  at  that  time  as  well  as 


144      EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

myself  on  the  road,  and  probably  they  had  as 
little  strength  of  virtue  to  support  them  against 
temptation  as  the  grandson  of  His  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Kingston.  But  I  did  one  good  act  the 
same  week — I  married  Francesca.  According  to 
all  rule,  I  was  a  fool  to  do  so,  for  she  was  entirely 
in  my  power.  But  I  think  it  is,  on  the  whole, 
better  to  play  the  fool  than  the  knave  in  these 
matters.  My  conscience  is  rather  clearer  than 
it  would  have  been  had  1  deceived  and  cast  her 
off.  Faith  ! — I  have  often  since  suspected  I  was 
not  of  noble  blood  at  all ;  for  this  proceeding  was 
against  all  tradition,  and  all  hereditary  cus- 
toms. I  never  before  knew  or  heard  of  a  duke's 
descendant  playing  the  ass  in  that  way. 

And  now  arose  the  grand  question,  how  was  I 
to  live  ?  how  was  I  to  support  a  wife  ?  An  inter- 
rogation of  a  very  practical  character,  which  I 
doubt  not  has  often  startled  many.  My  landlord 
soon  got  rid  of  me  ;  when  my  three  guineas  were 
gone,  and  he  was  quite  certain  that  no  more  re- 
mained, he  turned  us  both  out  of  the  Tabard,  and 
bid  us  go  to  the  deuce.  But  his  wife  left  us 
half-a-guinea,  which  gave  us  courage  to  face  a 
new  lodging.  This  was  modest  enough.  For 
half-a-crown  a  week,  I  rented  an  attic,  and  began 
to  look  my  prospects  in  the  face.  I  was  a  good 
scholar ;  better  I  was  convinced  than  most  men 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       145 

who  have  an  University  education.  I  wrote  some 
nonsense,  and  to  my  amazement,  got  a  guinea  for 
it.  I  frequented  the  coffee  houses,  and  picked  up 
a  chance  sort  of  acquaintance  with  wits  and  scrib- 
blers, and  philosophers  ;  and  they  put  me  in  the 
way  of  employment  as  a  translator  at  the  rate  of 
a  guinea,  or  a  guinea  and  a  half  for  every  printed 
sheet  of  sixteen  pages.  This  was  killing  work  ; 
but  it  enabled  me  to  live.  I  passed  under  the 
name  of  Smith-^and  a  Smith  indeed  I  was,  for  I 
was  fabricating  bread  out  of  my  own  brains. 
George  Sale  was  then  translating  the  "  Koran," 
which  he  published  about  two  years  afterwards. 
What  I  had  learned  from  my  Gooroo,  Akiba,  was 
now  called  into  play.  I  think  I  gave  him  some 
useful  information.  At  all  events,  he  was  pleased 
more  than  once  to  tell  me  so ;  and  out  of  his 
scanty  earnings  as  a  compiler  of  the  "  Universal 
History,"  he  often  gave  me  a  guinea,  and  sub- 
sequently engaged  me  as  a  contributor  to  its  pages. 
He  was  a  well-looking  man ;  and  though  a  lawyer, 
honest.  He  often  invited  myself  and  Francesca 
to  his  house  in  burrey  Street,  where  we  became 
acquainted  with  his  wife  and  family,  and  I  sadly 
lamented  his  death,  which  took  place  in  1736. 
Here  I  met  another  singular  character — George 
Psalmannazar — the  author  of  the  History  of 
Formosa.  This  was  not  his  real  name  ;  but  after 
vol.  ii.  H 


146  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

the  detection  of  his  imposture  he  was  ashamed  to 
divulge  either  it  or  his  native  place,  lest,  as  he 
said,  it  would  bring  disgrace  upon  his  mother. 
He  was  a  short  man  with  a  square  face,  long  hair 
of  raven  colour,  and  piercing  black  eyes.  I  rather 
think  he  was  of  gypsy  blood,  and  indeed  the  whole 
course  of  his  career  would  justify   me  in  coming 
positively  to  such  a  conclusion.     For  his  marvel- 
lous adventures  as  a  pretended  pilgrim  on  the 
way  to  Rome,  to  equip  himself  for  which  he  stole 
out  of  a  chapel  a  palmer's  robe  tha  t  hung  before 
some  saint's  image  ;  his  assumption  of  the  char- 
acter  of   a  mendicant  Japanese,    converted   to 
Christianity,  travelling  through  Europe  to  acquire 
knowledge ;    his   curious   experience  among  the 
Beguines,  from  whose  saintly  faces  he   tears  off 
the  mask  of  pudency  ;  his  career  as  a  soldier,  in 
which   he  probably    did   as  many  strange  mad 
things  as  Dom  Balthazar  himself,  all  struck  me 
as  being  in  such  singular  accordance  with  what  I 
know  of  the  Zingari  life,  that  I  entertained  little 
doubt  at  that  time,  and  have  none  now,  that  he 
was  of  the  true  Galore  breed.     Like  them,   he 
knew  many  languages,  and  had  mingled  in  almost 
every   order  of    human   life ;    and  I   think   his 
silence    on   his   origin,   birthplace,    and   family 
name  may  be  viewed  as  strongly  confirming   the 
notion  that  he  was  an  offshoot  of  this  strange 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  147 

people  ;  who  give  (as  1  know)  more  Jesuits, 
Generals,  and  Cardinals  to  the  world  than  would 
readily  be  believed. 

Sale  was  a  lazy  man — as  lazy  and  careless  as 
Steele  himself — and  though  he  had  undertaken 
to  furnish  the  booksellers  with  a  dozen  sheets  a 
month,  he  in  fact  did  not  supply  more  than  one 
or  two.  He  was,  therefore,  forced  to  have  re- 
course to  "understrappers,"  and  of  this  honour- 
able confraternity  I  became  one.  His  oriental 
studies,  extending  over  a  great  number  of  years, 
had  made  George  sceptical  about  Moses  and  his 
cosmogony;  he  was  in  fact  a  Mohamedan  in 
principle,  and  was  persuaded  of  the  divine  in- 
spiration of  the  son  of  Abd'alla.  My  tutor, 
Akiba,  had  half  impregnated  myself  with  notions 
very  nearly  alike.  A  perfect  congeniality  thus 
existed  between  us  on  certain  points ;  and  our 
publishers  were  of  so  liberal  a  turn  that  when 
Sale  soon  after  abandoned  the  work,  and  George 
Fsalmannazar  was  taken  in  to  fill  his  place,  that 
worthy,  who  had  now  become  a  neophyte  of  the 
bishops,  began  to  run  so  counter  to  the  liberal 
views  of  Sale,  that  one  of  the  partners  in  the 
concern,  Mr.  Provost,  sent  for  him  one  day  in 
great  alarm,  and  begged  it  as  a  favour  that  "  he 
would  not  be  righteous  over  much."  The  reformed 
Jew,  or  gypsy,  or  whatever  else  he  was,  however, 

H   Z 


148  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

convinced  the  worthy  man  that  it  was  much  more 
profitable  to  write  up  Moses  than  to  write  him 
down ;  and  accordingly  an  entirely  new  tone  of 
thought  was  given  to  the  whole  work,  and  it  was 
framed  for  parsons  rather  than  for  philosophers. 
But  the  parsons  did  not  support  it  as  liberally  as 
might  have  been  expected.  In  fact  they  were 
better  employed  in  putting  out  their  Johns  for 
college,  and  their  Jennies  for  Fox  Hall,  so  that 
the  only  person  who  gained  much  by  the  tran- 
saction was  Psalmannazar,  who  extended  his 
connection  among  the  orthodox,  and  filled  his 
pockets  and  his  paunch  through  his  zeal  for 
Moses. 

The  Reverend  Thomas  Woolston  was  another 
who  became  known  to  me  at  this  period,  and 
whose  brief  career  furnished  matter  of  amuse- 
ment, blended  with  melancholy.  He  used  to 
stroll  into  a  poor  coffee  house  where  I  was  accus- 
tomed to  resort,  and  fall  into  conversation  with 
whoever  happened  to  be  present,  indulging  in 
speculation  on  the  most  abstruse  subjects,  with 
an  utter  disregard  of  time  and  place.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  good  humour,  and  extensive  learn- 
ing ;  but  not  content  with  ridiculiug  Moses 
and  the  prophets,  he  published  some  des- 
perate   pamphlets    on    the   miracles,    which   he 

Jicated  to  those  right  reverend  fathers  in  God, 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  149 

the  Bishops  of  London  and  Lichfield,  St.  Davids, 
and  St.  Asaph,  in  a  strain  of  cutting  sarcasm 
and  fun,  which  was  gall  and  bitterness  to  those 
truly  pious  men.  But  this  ecclesiastical  merri- 
ment was  by  no  means  to  the  taste  of  our 
saintly  prelates.  They  got  up  a  most  dreadful 
outcry  against  him,  and  had  the  poor  fellow  tried 
and  convicted  before  Lord  Chief  Justice  Raymond, 
a  wretched  judge,  who  of  course  was  base  enough 
to  side  with  the  popular  feeling,  and  induced  a 
jury  to  convict  poor  Woolston.  He  was  con- 
demned to  a  year's  imprisonment,  and  fined  one 
hundred  pounds  ;  which  last  penalty  was  intended 
to  operate  as  a  sentence  of  perpetual  jail,  for  no- 
body knew  better  than  the  judge  who  imposed  it 
that  a  million  could  as  easily  be  raised  by  poor 
Woolston  as  a  hundred  pounds.  The  bishops 
exulted,  and  the  clergy  were  in  raptures.  Wool- 
ston was  sent  to  the  King's  Bench  prison-house, 
where  he  died  of  the  jail  fever,  and  thus  relieved 
the  minds  of  the  hierarchy.  But  I  have  often 
reflected  with  indignation  on  this  outrage  against 
opinion,  and  I  do  not  envy  either  the  bishops 
who  persecuted,  or  the  inquisition  who  condemned 
him.  He  was  a  harmless  man,  with  greater  wit 
than  judgment ;  but  his  death  bed  was  pious, 
and  his  last  words  were:    "This  is  a  struggle 


150      EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

which  all  men  must  go  through,  and  which   I 
bear  not  only  patiently,  but  with  cheerfulness." 

I  was  also  accustomed  to  meet  with   Kichard 
Savage,  the  natural  son  of  Lord  Rivers,  by  the 
Countess  of  Macclesfield — now  Mrs.  Brett,  whose 
singular  history   is   sufficiently    known   to    the 
world.     He  had  published  a  Miscellany  which  he 
dedicated  to  my  mother  in  the  most  absurd  and 
fulsome  strain  of  pangyrick,  and  on  the  first  occa- 
sion when  he  and  Mr.   Smith  (myself)  became 
acquainted,   he  entertained  me  with  a   satirical 
account  of  Lady  Mary,  whom  he  abused  in  all 
the  phrases  of  Billingsgate,  and  did  not  hesitate 
to  pronounce  "a  brimstone  of  Tartarus  itself." 
u  Oh !  how  I  fooled  her,"  he  said  ;  by  u  Jupiter  I 
duped  her  out  of  ten  guineas,  and  though  it  came 
from  her  like  her  blood,  still  I  had  so  baited  my 
hook    with    flattery,    that    the    she-shark    was 
caught."  And  then  he  repeated  with  bitter  satire, 
"  Since  the  country  has  been  honoured  with  the 
glory  of  your  wit,  as  elevated  and  immortal  as 
your  soul,  it  no  longer  remains  a  doubt  whether 
your  sex  have  strength  of  mind  in  proportion  to 
their   sweetness.      There  is  something   in  your 
verses  as  distinguished  as  your  air.     They  are  as 
strong  as  truth,  as  deep  as  reason,  as  clear  as  in- 
nocence, and  as  smooth  as  beauty.     They  contain 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  151 

a  nameless  and  peculiar  mixture  of  force  and 
grace  which  is  at  once  so  movingly  serene,  and  so 
majestically  lovely,  that  it  is  too  amiable  to 
appear  anywhere  but  in  your  eyes,  and  in  your 
writings.  As  fortune  is  not  more  my  enemy  than 
I  am  the  enemy  of  flattery,  I  know  not  how  I  can 
forbear  this  application  to  your  ladyship  ;  because 
there  is  scarce  a  possibility  I  should  say  more 
than  I  believe,  when  I  am  speaking  of  your 
Excellence." 

"  And  did  you  write  her  all  this  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  did  more,"  he  said,  u  Smith,  I  printed  it, — 
I  published  it.  I  let  it  loose  upon  the  town,  and 
made  her  the  ridicule  of  all  serious  people,  while 
she  fancied  she  became  a  cynosure. "  And  the 
honest  fellow  laughed  very  heartily,  in  which  he 
was  joined  by  a  coterie  of  wits  who  heard  the 
conversation. 

I  was  amused  by  this  fellow's  hypocrisy  and 
impudence,  both  blended  as  curiously  as  in  Orator 
Henley.  When  his  pockets  were  empty,  and 
your  purse  was  full,  he  would  praise  you  to  your 
face  with  the  most  abject  servility,  and  when  you 
had  rewarded  him  with  a  piece,  he  would  abruptly 
turn  away  without  even  saying,  u  Thank  ye,"  and 
would  go  and  spend  it  all  in  a  debauch.  Next 
day  he  would  be  as  servile  as  ever,  until  you  had 
again  fee'd  him,  when  he  would  leave  you  as  un- 


152      EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

ceremoniously  as  before.     He  always  presumed  on 
his  birth,  and  his  misfortunes  ;  and  expected  you 
to  pay  the  greatest  deference  to  both.      He  could 
be  gentlemanlike  when  he  pleased,  but  he  seldom 
did  please,  and  he  was  more  in  his  native  element 
when  he  was  coarse  and  vulgar.      In  practice,  he 
despised  and  laughed  at  all  morality,  virtue,  and 
honour;  but  theoretically  he  was  a  Socrates  or 
Plato,  and  he  would  gurgle  forth  the  finest  senti- 
ments  of  temperance  when  drunkenness  made 
him  even  incapable  of  walking.      On  the  whole, 
he  was  a  very  worthless,  lying  fellow,  and  Samuel 
Johnson  has  disgraced  himself  and  literature  by 
condescending  to  be  his  paneygrist,  while  he  has 
offered  an  outrage  to  decency  by  glossing  over 
the  fellow's  vices  with  an  excuse  or  a  palliation, 
which  all  similar  rascals  will  not  fail  to  copy, 
and  even  defend  under  so  eminent  an  authority. 
But  Johnson's  political  pamphleteering  proves 
that  he  is  capable  of  any  baseness,  if  he  can  get 
gold  by  it. 

I  saw  something,  too,  of  Theophilus  Cibber,  a 
son  of  the  old  player,  and  a  most  abandoned 
reprobate.  He  dabbled  in  literature,  but  was 
half  his  time  hunted  by  bailiffs,  and  he  has  been 
more  than  once  arrested  on  the  stage ;  for  he  had 
some  histrionic  talent  which  he  might  have  profit- 
ably exercised,  but  his  dissipated  habits  exhausted 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  153 

all  he  got.      He  married  a  most  lovely  woman,  a 
sister  of  Dr.  Arne,  and  like  him,  remarkable  for 
musical  talent,  but  though  she  earned  a  large 
sum  by  her   acting,  he  sold  her  to  a  man   of 
fortune  named  Sloper ;  and  when  he  subsequently 
brought  an   action   against  him,    and   laid  his 
damages  at  five  thousand  pounds,  a  jury  appre- 
ciating his  rascality  at  its  proper  value,  gave  him 
the  munificent  sum  of  ten  pounds,  so  that  he  lost 
one  of  the  finest  women  in  the  world  for  a  few 
paltry  shillings,  and  while  he  covered  himself  with 
infamy,  realised  the  fable  of  the  fool  who  cut 
open  his  goose,  and  for  golden  eggs  found  only — 
disappointment.     He  and  Savage  were  fellows  of 
the  same  kind,  who  would  have  stuck  at  nothing 
for  money.      Cibber   was   drowned   crossing  the 
Irish  Channel,  and  Savage  ought   to  have  been 
hanged,  and  would  have  been,  only  that  Justice 
Page  outraged  all  decency  by  his  charge  to  the 
jury  on  his  trial  for  the  murder  of  Sinclair,  and 
that  Savage  had  a  half-sister — Miss  Brett — who 
saved  him.      Old  Mandeville,  also,  the  author  of 
the  Fable  of  the  Bees,  took  a  sort  of  liking  to 
me,    and   often    accompanied    me    home.       He 
described  Addison  as  a  u  parson  in  a  tye  wig," 
but  he  was  himself  a  sly  old  rogue,  and  though 
he  affected  the  austerity  of  a  philosopher,  I  have 
seen  him  stealing  up  Drury  Lane  at  night,  after 

h  5 


154  EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

a  tawdry  bit  of  finery  and  paint  in  that  modest 
neighbourhood. 

London  was  at  this  time  deluged  with  periodical 
publications,  for  most  of  which  Sale  wrote,  and 
he  had  given  me  a  sort  of  introduction  to  the 
booksellers.  There  was  the  Craftsman,  n  hich  was 
great  against  the  Whigs ;  there  was  the  London 
Journal,  Fog's  Journal,  Grub  Street  Journal, 
Weekly  Begister,  Universal  Spectator,  Free  Briton, 
British  Journal,  Daily  Courant,  and  Beetfs 
Journal,  the  whole,  or  the  greater  part,  of  which 
dealt  in  politics,  scandal  and  lampoonery,  for 
whose  perpetual  production  there  was  one  of  the 
finest  bodies  of  literary  labourers  that  could  be 
got  together.  These  were  principally  the  country- 
men of  that  great  patriot  Bute,  and  they  came  to 
England  with  equally  noble  views,  and  earned 
money  by  similar  exalted  practices.  There  was 
scarcely  any  kind  of  prostitution  to  which 
they  would  not  submit,  so  long  as  it  brought 
in  "  the  bawbees."  Need  I  mention  Swinton  and 
Mitchell,  and  Campbell,  and  the  notorious  Bower, 
who  was  alternately  a  Jesuit,  an  atheist,  a  pro- 
testant,  a  quaker,  and  a  Jesuit  again,  as  it  suited 
his  purposes,  and  who  cheated  the  publishers  of 
the  Universal  History  out  of  no  less  than  £$00, 
while  he  pillaged  tailors,  and  plundered  land- 
ladies with  the  most  glorious  defiance  of  honesty. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU,  lft5 

There  was  Stephen  Duck,  who  from  a  thresher 
became  a  poet,  and  penned  the  most  ridiculous 
verses,  which  got  him  a  pension  of  £30  a  year 
from  pious,  good  Queen  Caroline.  He  supplied 
some  of  these  journals  with  poetry,  and  the  stanzas 
seem  to  have  been  written  with  a  flail.  There  was 
Eustace  Budgell,  who  began  his  career  under  the 
infamous  Lord  Wharton  (the  father  of  the  Duke), 
and  who  having  amassed  a  fortune  by  the  most 
discreditable  arts,  lost  it  all  in  one  day  by  the 
failure  of  the  South  Sea  Scheme.  He  was  now 
libelling  Walpole  with  the  most  ferocious  bitter- 
ness, and  receiving  bribes  from  the  old  Duchess 
of  Marlborough  for  his  shocking  slanders  on  the 
party  who  had  displaced  her  old  traitor  of  a  duke. 
Oldmixon  was  on  the  other  side,  and  was  ridicu- 
ling the  Tories  with  unflagging  bitterness,  for 
which  he  was  subsequently  rewarded  by  a  post 
under  government  He  wrote  the  life  of  Arthur 
Mainwaring,  the  first  keeper  of  poor  Mrs.  Old- 
field,  and  would  have  penned  the  life  of  a  hang- 
man if  he  could  have  got  money  by  the  job. 
Welsted  was  also  in  the  employ  of  Walpole ;  an 
indefatigable  scribbler  of  political  trash.  Ned 
Ward,  who  kept  a  public  house  in  Moorfields, 
was  an  imitator  of  Butler,  and  a  desperate 
antagonist  of  the  Low  Church  W  higs,  which  drew 
a  great  number  of  customers  to  his  house,  so 


156  EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU. 

that  he  derived  equal  profit  from  his  beer  and 
brains.  Defoe — but  why  go  on?  I  saw  and 
lived  with  these  gentlemen  who  constituted  all 
the  lower  empire  of  letters ;  Pope  and  a  few 
others  being  at  the  supreme  head,  and  hated  and 
abused  in  every  form  of  satire  by  these,  the 
writhing  wretched  extremity. 

One  morning  Sale  sent  for  me  in  a  hurry. 
u  Smith,"  said  he,  "  I  find  I  can  have  little  or  no 
employment  at  which  I  can  profitably  put  you  for 
some  time.  This  vagabond  Psalmannazar  and 
his  canting  set  have  undermined,  and  underbid 
me.  We  must  therefore  see  what  is  to  be 
done  with  Curll,  who  is  always  ready  to  take 
on  new  hands.  His  pay  is  not  much,  but  it  is 
certain." 

We  went  and  found  the  bookseller  behind  his 
counter  in  Rose  Street,  Co  vent  Garden.  From 
all  I  had  heard  of  him,  I  was  prepared  to  see  in 
him  rather  a  low  sort  of  rascal,  but  he  was  not 
so.  He  had  light  grey  eyes,  not  unpleasing,  only 
that  they  were  enormously  large  and  projecting  ; 
he  was  purblind,  and  splay-footed,  but  his 
manner  was  smooth,  and  not  without  a  certain 
polish.  After  an  introduction,  and  some  common 
place  remarks,  Sale  mentioned  the  object  of  his 
visit,  speaking  rather  favourably  of  my  preten- 
sions.    Curll  asked  me  into  a   room  behind  his 


EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU.  157 

shop,  and  Sale  waited  for  me  at  the  next 
tavern. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  bibliopole,  abruptly,  "  do 
you  know  Latin  ?" 

I  answered  "  Yes." 

<k  Any  other  languages  ?" 

"  Oh !  yes — French,  Italian  and  Greek." 

Curll  lifted  up  his  hands.  "  But  do  you  really 
know  them,  sir  ?     By  Jove,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Curll,  when  I  say  anything,  you  may  be 
assured  it  is  true." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  shall  make  your  fortune,  by 
Jove,  sir.  You  are  a  lucky  man  to  have  come 
here  this  day.  Zounds,  sir,  I  have  a  pack  of 
scoundrels  in  my  employ,  who  pretend  that  they 
know  all  these  languages,  but  when  I  give  them 
a  work  to  do  into  English,  by  Jove,  sir,  they  can 
do  nothing  with  it  until  they  have  got  grammars, 
and  lexicons,  and  dictionaries,  and  the  deuce 
knows  what ;  and  then  the  critics,  sir,  by  Jove, 
sir,  when  the  work  is  published,  the  critics  fasten 
on  it,  and  in  the  brutallest  manner  prove  to  all 
the  town  that  the  translator  scarcely  knew  the 
rudiments  of  the  language  which  he  trans- 
lated." 

"  That  must  be  an  annoyance  to  you,  Mr. 
Curll." 

"  An  annoyance,  sir,  by  Jove  !  sir,  it  drives  me 


158  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

mad — it  makes  me  desperate,  Bir,  I  can  neither 
eat,  sleep,  walk,  nor  drink,  on  account  of  it,  by 
Jove !  sir." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Curll,  what  do  you  propose  that  I 
shall  do  in  this  dilemma  ?" 

"  Why  this,  sir— -this  is  what  I  propose,  sir.  I 
have  at  present  some  half  score  of  these  gentle- 
men at  work  for  me,  and  what  I  wish  you  to  do 
is  to  revise  their  translations,  so  that  none  of 
those  infernal  critics  can  find  a  flaw  in  them,  by 
Jove,  sir." 

"  Nay,  Mr.  Curll,  if  you  ask  me  to  put  out  a 
book  in  which  these  gentlemen  can't  find  a 
flaw,  I'm  afraid  you  ask  me  an  impossibility." 

11  Oh !  dear  me,  I  did  not  mean  that,  by  Jove, 
sir,  I  know  they  will  find  a  flaw  in  anything, 
from  Homer  up  to  the  New  Testament,  but  I 
mean,  sir — by  Jove,  sir,  you  know  what  I  mean — 
a  real  flaw — a  great  big  boobyish  flaw,  such  as 
changing  horses  into  asses,  and  men  into  women, 
which  some  of  my  writers  frequently  do,  by  Jove, 


sir." 


"  I  can  undertake,  Mr.  Curll,  that  no  such 
metamorphosis  as  that  shall  happen  under  my 
supervision." 

"Very  good,  sir,  very  good,  by  Jove,  sir. 
You'll  do — and  the  terms,  Mr.  Smith  ?" 

"  Mr.  Curll,  I  must  leave  these  to  yourself." 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       159 

"  Well,  sir,  the  trouble  will  not  be  great,  and 
there  will  be  a  good  deal  of  work.  Say  half  a 
guinea  for  every  printed  sheet  of  thirty -two 
pages." 

I  was  obliged  to  consent,  and  Curll  introduced 
me  to  his  garret.  There  I  found  about  fifteen 
poor  devils,  hack  authors  in  various  styles  of 
raggery  and  wretchedness,  with  woe-begone 
features  and  unkempt  hair,  working  away  silently 
at  their  various  employments.  Most  of  them 
were  Scotchmen ;  there  was  an  Irishman  or  two  ; 
the  rest  were  of  this  country.  The  pens  moved 
rapidly  and  audibly  over  the  paper  in  the  learned 
stillness ;  they  all  looked  up  when  we  entered ; 
they  seemed  afraid  of  Curll  like  a  pack  of 
beaten  hounds  or  school  boys. 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  Curll,  "I  have  brought 
you  Mr.  Smith,  who  is  now  in  my  service  as 
general  reviser  of  all  Greek,  Latin,  French,  and 
Italian  translations.  So  you  will  have  to  look 
pretty  sharp,  I  can  tell  you,  and  must  mind  your 
P's  and  Q's.  I  am  well  assured  of  his  competency 
and  skill,  and  the  next  printed  half  sheet  that 
comes  from  the  printers  is  to  be  put  into  his  hands 
before  it  is  revised." 

I  could  see  a  shudder  among  some  half  dozen 
of  the  poorest  devils  at  this  intimation,  but  they 
dared  not  murmur;    they  looked  at  each  other 


160      EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

and  at  me,  saying  as  plainly  as  they  could, 
"  We'll  soon  make  this  place  too  hot  for  you. 
Revise  us  indeed." 

"  I  shall  have  to  deduct  a  penny  for  every  gross 
error  in  each  sheet,"  added  Curll,  "  and  that  is 
certainly  very  little,  but  I  have  too  long  put  up 
with  impositions.  And  now  let  us  see  how  goes 
on  business." 

"  Mr.  MacAuley,  have  you  finished  the  *  His- 
tory of  Executions  ?'  By  Jove,  sir,  1  want  it 
The  press  is  waiting  anxiously  for  it ;  so  are  the 
public." 

"  Mr.  Curll,"  said  MacAuley,  "  I  have  hunted 
through  all  the  lanes  and  alleys  you  have  directed 
me  to,  for  some  of  the  last  dying  speeches,  but 
could  not  get  them.  Besides,  I  can  discover 
little  or  nothing  authentic  about  Bill  Sykes,  Sally 
Richardson, Poll Murray,and  the  man  who  chopped 
up  his  wife  in  Thames  Street" 

"  Authentic !  Mr.  MacAuley ;  what  the  dev — 
by  Jove  !  sir,  you  must  be  mad,  or  drunk,  or 
damnably  silly,  sir.  Authentic  indeed  1  Why, 
who  the  hell — who  cares,  sir,  for  Authentic  ?  If 
you  can't  find  '  authentic,'  sir,  you  must  invent 
'  authentic,'  sir ;  or  go  about  your  business  and 

starve,  sir ;  and  die,  sir  ;  and  be  d d,  sir.    Do 

I  live  to  hear  one  of  my  writers  insult  me  with 
<  authentic  ?'  " 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       161 

Poor  MaeAuley  shrank    into  his   shell,  and 
Curll  passed  to  another. 

u  'A  Defence  of  the  Measures  of  the  Present 
Administration.'  Ah!  Gleig,  you  are  at  the 
patriots  again,  I  see.  Hit  'em  hard — hard,  sir ; 
by  Jove  !  sir ;  hit  'em  with  a  whip  of  iron,  sir — 
the  infernal  knaves,  the  lousy,  dirty  scoundrels, 
who  pretend  that  they  only  can  save  the  country. 
This  will  be  a  very  nice  sixpenny  volume.  And 
here  is  sixpence  for  yourself,  Gleig — only  hit  the 
patriots  right  and  left,  up  and  down,  by  Jove, 
sir." 

Gleig  took  the  money  very  thankfully.  He 
had  just  published  an  elaborate  apology  for  adul- 
tery, in  the  biography  of  a  certain  great  man. 

"  What's  this  ?  c  A  Comparison  between  the 
Present  Ministry  and  the  Turkish  Court' 
Capital !  By  Jove,  sir,  that's  a  taking  title.  It 
will  sell,  sir,  by  Jove,  sir  :  it  must  sell.  Let  me 
see,  let  me  see — *  When  we  consider  the  present 
abandoned  and  abominable  administration,  which, 
to  the  disgrace  of  England,  now  holds  us  in 
thick  fetters,  we  can  liken  them  to  nothing  so 
much  as  that  accursed  gang  of  eunuchs  and  cut 
throats  which  recently  brought  the  Sultan  01 
Turkey  to  an  untimely  end.'  Very  fine,  sir,  by 
Jove,  sir ;  that  will  tell — it  will  sell.  Go  on  in 
that  style,  Archie,  and  you  are  sure  to  prosper. 


162  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

They  are  a  set  of  rogues ;  they  do  deserve  hang- 
ing. By  Jove,  sir,  these  two  pamphlets  will  be 
a  hit,  sir— a  hit ;  for  all  the  Whigs  will  buy  the 
first,  and  all  the  Tories  will  go  mad  after  the  last." 

He  passed  on  to  another  desk,  where  a  raffish, 
drunken-looking  fellow  was  working.  He  had  a 
Bible  before  him,  and  he  was  evidently  pleased 
with  himself,  and  his  employment.  Curll  paused 
and  read — 

" '  Two  letters  from  a  Deist  to  a  Friend,  con- 
cerning Revelations,  &c.'  Mr.  Perfitt,  sir — by 
Jove,  sir,  how  is  it  these  letters  are  still  un- 
finished ?  I  have  had  a  dozen  orders  for  them 
for  the  country ;  the  fops  and  fine  gentlemen,  not 
to  mention  the  Ladies  of  Quality,  are  all  demand- 
ing them." 

"  Why,  faith,  sir,  I  have  been  living  rather  free 
for  the  last  two  or  three  days,  and  I  could  not 
make  out  some  of  the  Greek  of  the  Emperor 
Julian,  which  I  wish  to  quote  in  the  middle  of 
my  second  Letter." 

"  D n  the  Emperor  Julian,  sir,  whoever  he 

was.  What  did  lie  know  about  the  subject.  One 
of  your  rascally  Hanover  Germans,  I  suppose, 
who  was  all  for  the  Pope." 

"  No,  indeed,  Julian  was  a  Roman  Emperor." 

"So  much  the  worse,  sir;  by  Jove,  sir,  a 
regular  Jacobite  and  Papist.     You  mustn't  quote 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       163 

him,  sir,  in  defence  of  the  Bible,  or  anything,  sir. 
It  will  never  do  for  this  Protestant  country. 
Anti-Boman,  sir,  is  what  we  want,  not  Roman. " 

"  Sir,  I  quote  him  in  defence  of  Deism,  and 
against  the  Bible.  I  assure  you  he  didn't  believe 
a  word  of  it." 

"  Ah  I  Perfitt,  my  dear  fellow,  that  alters  the 
case ;  go  on  and  prosper,  but  don't  live  freely 
again  until  you  have  finished.  Don't,  like  a  good 
boy." 

rt  £nd  what  are  you  doing,  Warren? — 'The 
Parson  Hunter,'  in  two  cantos.  Very  good  title 
— very  good  title,  by  Jove,  sir.  Give  it  to  the 
parsons — hypocrites,  sly  foxes,  drones,  whited 
sepulchres,  hirelings,  mammon  worshippers,  and 
so  on  ;  their  belly  is  their  God,  and  so  on.  That's 
your  sort,  Sam,  my  boy.  Finish  it  soon,  and  it 
will  have  a  run.  And  you,  Butt,  what  are  you 
at  ?  Why  you  dirty,  shabby  Irish  brogueanier, 
have  you  not  finished  that  'Letter'  yet?  What 
do  I  pay  you  for  ?  by  Jove,  sir.  I  will  send  you 
back  to  hell,  sir.  I  mean  Connaught,  sir.  I  will 
send  you  back  to  your  potatoes  and  salt,  sir ; 
and  your  lice,  sir." 

And  here  Curll,  to  my  amazement,  began  to 
kick  this  wretched  fellow,  at  which  he  whined 
piteously.  Starvation  had  evidently  done  its 
work  on  him ;  it  had  broken  even  the  spirit  of 


164  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

poor  Paddy.  He  received  his  cuffs  very  con- 
tentedly, and  slunk  into  a  corner.  But  Curll  did 
not  escape.  From  some  unknown  place,  tenanted 
in  all  probability  by  some  brother  Hibernian,  a 
large  leaden  ink  pot  was  flung  with  excellent 
aim,  and  hit  the  bookseller  right  in  the  poll. 
He  howled  with  rage,  and  quickly  turned  round, 
but  every  hand  was  busily  engaged  in  writing, 
and  when  he  groaned  out  "  Oh!  hell,"  there  was 
a  general  burst  of  honest  indignation  from  the 
whole  of  his  literary  regiment.  Some  of  them 
kindly  ran  to  his  assistance ;  others  called  aloud 
for  the  discovery  of  the  sacrilegious  wretch  who 
had  dared  to  lift  his  hand  against  the  person  of 
the  master,  but  the  varlet  was  not  to  be  found. 
Curll's  head  began  to  bleed  profusely  ;  some  of 
the  gang  went  for  Mrs.  Curll,  who  rushed 
upstairs  in  a  sad  fright,  and  caterwauled  very 
loudly  when  she  saw  her  wounded  lord.  Darting 
around  her  fiery  looks  of  rage,  she  sought  (I 
would  to  heaven  she  could  have  found)  the  wrath- 
ful Irishman  ;  but  as  there  was  no  possibility  of 
this,  she  and  Curll  finally  left  the  room,  amid 
badly  suppressed  titters,  leaving  me  to  shift  for 
myself  among  my  new  associates. 

This  introduction,  it  must  be  owned,  was  not 
the  most  favourable  in  the  world.  1  did  all  I 
could  to  make  my  revision  as  easy  as  possible, 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  16£ 

and  I  have  often  read  over  and  corrected  heaps 
of  manuscript,  so  that  but  few  errors  appeared 
for  the  revise.  But  I  soon  found  that  even  by 
this  indulgence  I  could  not  satisfy  these  gentle- 
men. They  were  nearly  all  starving,  out-at- 
elbows,  and  garret  or  cellar-lodged  ;  yet  in  their 
own  estimation  they  were  the  shining  lights  of 
literature  and  England,  without  whose  blaze  the 
world  would  be  in  darkness.  Their  conceit  was 
dreadful  ;  their  envy  of  each  other  quite 
maniacal ;  their  scandal  and  detraction  made 
you  quite  wretched  to  hear  it.  The  most  awful 
feuds  existed  among  them ;  the  Englishmen  de- 
spised the  Irishmen,  scorned  the  Scotchmen,  and 
detested  each  other;  the  Irishmen  repaid  the 
mutual  dislike  of  both  with  alternate  laughter, 
threatenings,  and  abuse.  The  Scotchmen  hoarded 
up  their  bile  until  a  proper  opportunity  arrived, 
when  they  squirted  it  indiscriminately  upon  both 
John  and  Pat,  but  never  against  any  of  the 
brethren  who  came  from  the  other  side  of  the 
Tweed.  Such  of  them  ds  were  not  translators, 
by  degrees  scraped  up  an  intimacy  with  me,  and 
we  went  on  well  together;  but  with  those  gentle- 
men over  whom  I  was  placed  as  supervisor,  I 
could  do  little  or  nothing.  The  Irishmen  did  the 
French  and  Latin,  the  Scotchmen  stuck  to  the 
Greek,  in  which  they  boasted  the  most  extraor- 


166  EDWARD   WOETLEY  MONTAGU. 

dinary  proficiency,  and  a  Welshman  was  our 
great  hand  at  Italian.  The  blunders  which  each 
and  all  made  were  most  ridiculous,  and  I  could 
scarcely  blame  the  critics  for  their  severity.  But 
these  hacks  would  not,  and  could  not  acknow- 
ledge its  fairness.  With  them,  all  such  criticism 
was  scoundrelism — yet  when  they  themselves 
dabbled  in  it,  they  hunted  out  the  very  same  sort 
of  defects,  and  held  them  and  their  makers  up  to 
public  mockery.  At  last  the  Irishmen  rose  up  in 
wrath  ;  and  one  of  them  said  to  me  one  day — 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  Smith,  your  delight  in 
discovering  our  bulls  and  blunders  is  very  great, 
but,  by  my  soul,  I  never  yet  knew  an  iLnglish- 
man,  who  if  he  was  born  in  Ireland,  wouldn't 
make  as  many  bulls  and  blunders  as  the  very 
worst  of  us." 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       167 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


' '  O  generation  of  vipers ,  how  can  ye  being  evil  speak  good 
things  ? —  for  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth 
speaketh." 


"  Why  don't  you  join  our  club?"  said  Savage, 
to  me  one  day ;  "  the  expense  is  little,  the  fun 
great." 

u  What  club  ?"  I  asked.  "  I  never  heard  you 
were  in  a  club." 

"  Why,  the  Apollo  Club,  to  be  sure  ;  the  club 
of  all  the  wits,  poets,  and  scholars." 

"  Yon  have  yourself  supplied  a  reason  why  I 
don't  join.  I  belong  to  neither  of  these  three 
great  communities." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  you'll  do  very  well ;  I  wish  we 
had  not  many  duller  dogs  than  you  among  us." 


169  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

I  bowed,  and  gravely  thanked  him  for  the  com- 
pliment.    Savage  looked  confused. 

"  No — no,"  said  he,  "  I  didn't  mean  it  in  that 
way,  drat  me.  But  come  and  join  ;  it  will 
be  good  fun  for  you  when  you  are  in  the  spleen." 

"  U  here  do  you  meet  ?  and  what  are  the  pre- 
liminaries ?" 

**  We  meet  once  a  month,  in  a  very  convenient 
house  in  Clare  Market,  the  sign  of  the  Jolly 
Fiddlers.  We  have  a  new  President  every  night, 
and  there  are  no  preliminaries  but  to  be  proposed 
and  seconded.  When  your  election  follows,  you 
pay  five  shillings,  and  you  take  your  place 
among  us,  a  regular  son  of  Phoebus." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  do  discredit  to  so  bright  a  sire ; 
nevertheless,  if  you  wish  it,  I  will  see  what  sort 
of  divinities  you  are." 

"  And  if  you  like  us,  you  can  join.  Nothing 
can  be  fairer,  so  be  ready  by  next  Friday  night ; 
our  monthly  meeting  will  then  take  place.  I 
shall  call  for  you  about  nine,  and  we  shall  go 
together.  Bring  the  needful,  alias  the  price  of 
your  supper,  which  is  eighteen  pence ;  what  you 
order  besides  in  the  way  of  drink  or  smoke,  will 
be  an  extra.  But  we  are  generally  sober  fel- 
lows. And,  by  the  bye,  I  was  near  forgetting — 
bring  a  good  oak  stick.     It  may  be  useful." 

1  rather  stared  at  this  last  article  of  costume, 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       169 

but  a  club  of  wits  must  have  their  eccentricities, 
and  this,  no  doubt,  was  one. 

The  scene  of  our  symposium  was  a  large  tavern 
in  Clare  Market — the  delicacy  was  tripe ;  the  re- 
freshment in  the  way  of  liquor  was  strong  beer. 
We  walked  up  into  a  long  room,  the  whole 
centre  of  which  was  occupied  by  a  table  spread 
with  plates  and  glasses  ;  the  cloth  was  coarse, 
and  not  very  white,  but  the  worthy  landlady,  I 
suppose,  considered  these  nice  particulars  be- 
neath the  notice  of  literary  gentlemen,  whose 
thoughts  are  usually  in  the  clouds  of  heaven.  A 
large  chair  was  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  here 
we  already  found  seated  Orator  Henley,  who  had 
appointed  himself  president  for  the  evening. 
Amongst  the  motley  crowd  was  Mr.  John  Dennis, 
Aaron  Hill,  Ward,  the  author  of  the  London 
Spy,  Archibald  Bower,  Curll,  and  one  of  his 
poets,  Pattison,  whom  he  literally  starved  to 
death,  and  who,  indeed,  died  soon  after ;  these 
tripe  nights,  I  believe,  being  the  only  periods 
from  month  to  month  when  he  had  any  food. 
Morgan,  who  sought  to  make  all  his  readers 
Mohamedans,  and  who  published  some  funny 
works  on  the  subject :  Concanen,  a  mad  son  of 
Hibernia,  and  poor  Jack  Duuton,  a  broken  down 
bookseller,  were  there;  hunger  in  their  eyes,  rag- 

VOL.    IT.  I 


170  EDWARD   WJRTLEY   MONTAGU. 

gery  on  their  bodies.     Came  also  Charlie  Gildon, 
who  lodged  at  an  ale  house,  in  Long  Acre,  kept  by 
Bessie  Cox,  the  frowsy  Chloe  of  Mat  Prior,  and 
whom  that  silly  bard  would  have  married  had  he 
not  been   prevented   by   death  ;    Amhurst,    the 
Caleb    D'Anvers  of  the  Craftsman,    Oldmixon, 
Boyer,  Mat  Green,  of  the   Custom  House,  Tib- 
bald,  who    changed   his  name    into    the    more 
sonorous  one  of  Theobald ;  Dr.  Martin  and  Rus- 
sell, the  joint  editors  of  the  Grub  Street  Journal ; 
Will  Ayers,    who    called    himself  a  "  Squire," 
Eustace  Bridgel,  and  Mat  Tindal,  whose  will  the 
first-named  afterwards  forged,  to  the  great  in- 
dignation of  the  rightful  heir;  and  most  ridicul- 
ous of  all,  Figg,  the  prize  fighter,  brought  up 
the  rear,    but  how   or    why    he  got    into  this 
literary  club,  I  knew  not.    We  formed  altogether 
a  harlequin  group  of  about  fifty,  many  of  whom 
were  out  at  elbows — the  great  majority  evidently 
at   starvation    point.      At    half-past    nine,    the 
smoking  tripe  was    produced  ;    by    ten   it  had 
wholly  disappeared,  and  there  were  poor  devils 
among  us  who  seemed  inclined  to  swallow  even 
the  greasy  plates,  so  ravenous  was  their  appetite, 
and  so  unusual  the  appearance  of  food.      Pints 
and  pots  of  strong  beer,  stout  October  as  it  was 
called,    were   now   brought  up,  with  pipes  and 


EDWABD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  171 

tobacco,  and  Henley  having  called  to  Figg  to 
keep  order,  knocked  on  the  table  with  a  little 
hammer,  ordering  silence  and  attention. 

"  Gentlemen,"  cried  Henley,  "  are  you  all 
filled  ?" 

u  No,"  shouted  a  score  of  voices,  "  we  have 
drank  only  a  glass  or  so,  and  haven't  had  half 
as  much  tripe  as  we  ought." 

"  I  meant  your  glasses,  not  yourselves,  you 
sots,"  retorted  the  orator.  "  Fill  them,  and 
listen." 

This  exhortation  was  joyfully  obeyed.  After  a 
pause  the  Orator  began. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  begin  with  a  text,  nor 
shall  I  detain  you  with  a  long  preamble  about 
the  Ten  Commandments,  everyone  of  which  I 
believe  you  have  broken.  I  am  about  to  give 
you  the  health  of  the  most  renowned  critic  in 
England,  the  best  tragedian,  and  the  finest 
political  writer — need  I  name  Mr.  John  Dennis  ? 
His  father  was  a  decent  saddler,  which  probably 
accounts  for  the  son's  detestation  of  mules  and 
donkeys  (such  as  I  see  around),  and  also  accounts 
for  his  own  Pegasian  flights  to  the  highest  sum- 
mit of  P amasses.  I  don't  believe  there  is  much 
in  the  tale  that  he  was  expelled  from  Caius  for 
attempting  to  stab  a  man  in  the  dark — for  all 
poignard  blows  are  generally  given  in  the  open 

I  2 


172       EDWAKD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

day,  as  Pope,  Addison,  and  Steele,  those  Three 
Impostors,  can  well  testify  ;  but  I  do  very  well 
believe  that  fine  and  Spartan  trait  in  Mr.  Dennis's 
character,  which  runs,  I  think,  as  follows.  You 
all  know — I  mean  have  heard — of  the  late  Dick 
Steele.  Well,  in  a  magnanimous  moment,  when 
the  wine  was  in,  and  the  wit  was  out,  this  Irish 
knight  became  bail  for  Mr.  Dennis  for  some  fifty 
pounds.  Steele,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  soon 
after  arrested  for  this  sum  ;  oar  venerable  brother 
was  informed  of  the  fact.  '  Sdeath  P  said  he, '  what 
an  ass  he  was  !  Why  did  he  not  keep  out  of  the 
way,  as  I  did?1  And  with  this  grand  philoso- 
phical reflection  —  well  worth  the  whole  sum  to 
Steele — he  allowed  that  unreflecting  Samaritan 
to  extricate  himself  from  the  Philistines  as  well 
as  he  could.  Gentlemen,  there  was  a  moral 
grandeur  about  this  which  I  am  sure  you  will  all 
well  appreciate.  But  Steele's  conduct  in  return 
I  cannot  well  approve  of.  For  while  he  affected 
to  forgive  our  friend  for  that  heroic  Stoicism 
which  I  have  already  mentioned,  he  had  the 
cruelty  to  cite  in  the  '  Spectator,'  as  one  of  the 
happiest  couplets  in  the  English  language,  that 
famous  stanza,  in  which  Mr.  Dennis  -describes 
himself  and  his  brother  authors.  The  stanza  is 
as  follows — 

11  '  Thus  one  fool  lolls  his  tongue  out  at  another, 
And  shakes  his  empty  noddle  at  his  brother.' 


EDWARD  WORTLET  MONTAGU.  173 

u  Mr.  Dennis,  though  proud,  and  justly,  of 
being  the  author  of  these  admired  verses,  was 
conscious  that  he  had  written  others  very  much 
better;  and  as  he  thought  it  was  a  very  mean 
piece  of  envy  in  Steele  to  suppress  all  mention  of 
those,  while  he  so  pompously  cited  the  foregoing, 
he  wrote  him  a  letter,  breathing  hot  the  noble 
indignation  of  his  soul ;  and  from  that  day  until 
the  death  of  Dick,  those  mighty  men  continued 
foes. 

11  Gentlemen,    Mr.    Dennis   has    always    been 
proudly  jealous  of  the  high  consideration  due  to 
men  of  letters.     He  was  once  invited  to  Lord 
Halifax's  house,  whom  they  call  Mouse  Montagu, 
because  I  suppose  he  ratted  from  his  party,  and 
Bufo,  because  he  was  as  ugly  as  a  toad,  in  soul 
and  body.     Bufo  was  playing  with  a  parrot,  of 
which  he  was  extremely  fond,  it  was  so  like  him- 
self, and  not  paying  that  marked    attention  to 
our  venerable  Nestor  which  he  was  conscious  he 
deserved.     *  My  lord,'  says  he,  ;  as  you  and  your 
companion    are  so   engaged   in    admiring    each 
other,  I'll  wait  on  you  at  some  other  opportunity.' 
Whereupon,  to  the  honour  of  literature,  he  left 
the  scene  of  insult — a  dignified  and  noble  step, 
which,  even  if  it  stood  alone,  deserves  our  eternal 
gratitude.     Bufo  did  not  stop  him,  but  laughed, 
and  soon  after  invited  him  to  supper.     The  wine 


174  EDWARD    WOBTLEY   MONTAGU. 

was  good,  and  Mr.  Dennis  drank  it — may  I  be 
pardoned,  O  venerable  Sage,  for  just  hinting  that 
thou  didst  drink  a  little  too  much  thereof? — and 
just  as  he  was  maintaining  that  Shakspere  was  a 
scoundrel,  and  Pope  'as  stupid  and  venomous  as 
a  hunchbacked  toad,'  he  received  rather  a  blunt 
contradiction  from  some  vile  led-captain  of  my 
lord,  who  di4  not  properly  appreciate  our 
Gerenian  knight.  The  blood  of  Phoebus  took 
fire — our  noble  brother  rushed  out  of  the  room, 
upsetting  in  his  angry  flight  a  whole  sideboard 
of  bottles  and  glasses.  Next  day  Mat  Moyle, 
one  of  the  company,  met  him.  Mr.  Dennis  told 
him  he  remembered  all  that  happened  up  to  a 
certain  point,  but  after  that  all  was  Lethe.  l  And 
how  did  I  get  away  T  quoth  he.  '  Why/  says 
Moyle,  'you  weDt  away  like  the  devil,  and  took 
one  corner  of  the  house  with  you.'  " 

Here  there  was  a  general  roar  of  laughter. 
Dennis,  I  think,  did  not  like  the  fun,  but  he  sat 
still  till  we  had  drank  his  health,  which  Savage  did, 
with  u  one  cheer  more."  He  then  rose  up.  He 
was  now  very  old,  yet  he  retained  all  the  charac- 
teristics of  his  earliest  years.  His  eye  was  small 
and  fierce ;  he  had  a  squab  nose,  like  a  prize- 
fighter's, a  mouth  of  iron,  knitted  eye-brows,  a 
round  chin,  and  a  low,  narrow  forehead.  It  was 
no  wonder  that  such  a  man  should  have  a  temper, 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  175 

involving  him  in  perpetual    squabbles.      Pope, 
who  always  reminds  me  of  a  flea,  he  stung  so 
sharply,  had  but  a  day  or  two  before  given  to  the 
press  that  shocking  epigram  on  him  which  con- 
veys the  most  malignant  poison  *  to  the  mind, 
and  the  old  man  had  evidently  been  brooding 
over  it,  for  there  was  a  volcano  of  rage  and  fire 
suppressed  within  his  angry  bosom.     He  looked 
as  black  and  malignant  as  a  scorpion.     He  had 
eaten  little  for  supper,  but  had  smoked  plentifully, 
and  he  seemed  to  have  come  for  solace  to  the 
place  to  be  encouraged  by  some  of  the  younger 
men,  all  of  whom  he  knew  detested  the  hunch- 
back of  Twickenham.     He  was  also,  I  have  been 
told,  hiding  from  some  creditors,  who  had  set  the 
bailiffs  after  him,  so  that  he    was  in  the  very 
humour  that  Henley  liked  of  all  others — inflam- 
mable as  gunpowder  or  naptha ;    and  the  relent- 
less Orator,  it  must  be  avowed,  had   applied  a 
very  flaming   match   indeed   to   this    dangerous 
firework. 

"  Sir,"  said  Dennis,  et  that  you  are  a  parson  is 
your  protection  from  my  just  indignation.    I  will 

*  Should  Dennis  publish  you  had  stabbed  your  brother, 
Lampooned  your  monarch,  or  debauched  your  mother, 
Say  what  revenge  on  Dennis  can  be  had  ? 
Too  dull  for  laughter,  for  reply  too  mad. 
On  one  so  poor  you  cannot  take  the  law, 
On  one  so  old,  you  scorn  your  sword  to  draw, 
Uncaged  then  let  tbe  harmless  monster  rage, 
Secure  in  dullness,  madness,  want,  and  age. 


176  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

cot  sully  my  sacred  hands  by  thrashing  you; 
parsons  and  women  are  exempt  from  the  anger  of 
men.  You  have  affected  to  propose  my  health, 
but  you  really  have  insulted  me.  So  be  it.  The 
moon  regards  not  the  yelping  of  the  puppy  when 
he  bays  at  her  solemn  light.  My  father  was  a 
saddler ;  that  is  no  disgrace — had  he  been  a  par- 
son, whose  whole  life  defamed  his  reverend  call- 
ing, it  would  have  been  so.  You  accuse  me  of 
attacking  Addison— he  was  a  smooth-tongued 
hypocrite,  as  most  of  your  cloth  are  ;  of  cen- 
suring Steele — he  was  an  Irish  rogue,  as  poor 
and  drunken  as  yourself;  of  vilifying  Pope,  who 
resembles  you,  for  as  you  delight  in  the  butchers 
of  Clare  Market,  so  does  he  in  butchering  every 
man.  I  suppose  you  think  yourself  a  scholar, 
and  can  judge  of  his  Homer — but  you  are  not  a 
scholar ;  you  are  a  dunce,  a  humbug,  and  ignora- 
mus ;  wherefore  it  has  been  well  said  of  you — 

c  0  Orator  with  brazen-face  and  lungs, 

Whose  jargon's  formed  of  ten  unlearned  tongues, 

Why  standest  thou  there  a  whole  long  hour  haranguing, 

When  half  the  time  fits  better  men  for  hanging  P  " 

Here  there  was  a  general  smile,  and  Henley 
looked  rather  sheepish  for  a  moment.  Dennis 
continued — 

"  Sir,  I  shall  always  be  proud  of  having  been 
among  the  first  to  expose  that  scribbling  Papist. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  177 

When  I  die,  let  it  be  graven  on  my  tomb,  '  He 
defended  the  Great  Prince  of  Song  from  the  vilest 
of  his  imitators.'  For  I  aver,  and  let  none  con- 
tradict me,  that  the  Homer  which  Lintot  prints, 
does  not  talk  like  Homer  at  all,  but  like  Pope ; 
and  he  who  translated  him,  one  would  swear  had 
a  hill  in  Tipperary  for  his  Parnassus,  and  a 
puddle  in  some  bog  for  his  Hippocrene.  But  if 
we  want  further  to  know  what  this  fellow  is,  let 
us  take  the  initial,  and  final  letters  of  his  name, 
to  wit,  A.  P.  E.,  and  this  gives  you  a  true  idea  of 
the  creature.  Pope  comes  from  the  Latin  word 
Popa,  which  signifies  a  little  wart,  or  from 
Popysma,  because  he  was  continually  popping 
out  squibs  of  wit,  or  rather  Popysmata,  or 
Popisius — so  that  when  I  think  of  him — " 

Here  there  was  a  general  coughing  ;  for  though 
the  company  hated  Pope  mortally,  yet  it  was 
evident  that  Dennis  was  about  to  give  them  a 
longer  diatribe  than  they  quite  liked,  and  the 
coxcombs  were  themselves  each  so  anxious  to  hear 
his  own  wit,  that  they  listened  with  impatience 
to  any  of  their  neighbours. 

u  Pooh,  pooh,"  says  Aaron  Hill,  "  we  have 
had  enough,  and  more  than  enough  of  Pope." 

Tuneful  Alexis  on  the  Thames  fair  side, 
The  lady's  plaything,  and  the  muse's  pride. 

"  But  won't  you  allow  me  to  speak,  when  I 

i  5 


178  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

am  attacked  ?"  asked  DenDis  ;  and  his  eyes  seemed 
flames  of  fire. 

"  Nobody  attacked  you,"  said  Boyer,  u  it  was 
all  fun." 

"  Fun  to  us,  but  death  to  the  frogs,"  groaned 
Amhurst. 

"  Do  you  dare  to  call  me  a  frog?"  thundered 
out  Dennis. 

"  You're  an  old  fool,"  bawled  Gleig  from  the 
bottom  of  the  table. 

"  Then  you  ought  to  be  my  best  friend  here,'' 
retorted  Dennis,  "  for  all  fools  are  kinsmen." 

"  Cut  it  short,"  said  Harry  Carey,  the  author 
of  '  Sally  in  our  Alley.'  Poor  Harry  was  a  son 
of  Saville,  Marquis  of  Halifax — he  hanged  him- 
self in  the  end,  and  left  no  more  good-natured 
man  alive.  Why  do  so  many  good  fellows  hang 
themselves  in  this  best  of  all  possible  worlds? 

"  Aye,  Mr  Dennis,"  put  in  Henley,  "  cut  it 
short — do  please ;   as  short  as  your  own  temper." 

There  was  no  resisting  this  general  outcry,  so 
Dennis  was  obliged  to  go  on. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "you  are  all  in  league 
with  that  sco  undrel  in  the  chair,  and  he  is  in 
league  with  Pope,  and  Pope  is  in  league  with  the 
Pretender,  and  the  Pretender  is  in  league  with 
the  French —  and  the  whole  oi  them  against  me 
because  I  did  them  more  harm  than  all  the  Duke 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  17(J 

of  Marlborough's  battles  ;  but  this  will  teach  me 
never  again  to  sit  in  company  with  a  parson,  nor 
will  I  die  with  one  either." 

"  Faith,  you  can't  help  that,"  says  an  Irish- 
man, "  for  I've  a  notion  you'll  die  at  Tyburn." 

This  last  sally  produced  fresh  laughter,  in  the 
midst  of  which  Dennis  resumed  his  seat,  trembling 
with  fury. 

"  Gentlemen,  and  brother  wits,"  says  Henley, 
as  cool  as  Socrates  himself  when  his  wife  threw  a 
dirty  pail  over  him,  "it  is  quite  true  that  I  am  a 
parson,  but  that  is  more  my  misfortune  than  my 
fault,  and  I  hope  it  is  not  enough  to  exclude  me 
for  ever  from  the  company  of  honourable  men,  or 
virtuous  women.  For  this  1  can  say,  that  though 
a  parson,  I  am  no  hypocrite,  nor  did  I  ever  stab 
a  man  in  the  dark  like  some  that  I  know.  The 
Bishop  indeed  has  waved  his  atheistical  hand 
over  me,  and  at  that  touch  generally 

Fugnint  pudor,  verumque,  fidesque 
In  quorum  subeunt  locum,  fra/udes,  dolique,  insidi&quer 

— but  then  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule ;  and 
though  the  episcopal  touch  like  the  money  which 
Caiaphas  gave  Iscariot  generally  gives  entrance 
to  a  whole  legion  of  devils,  yet  in  my  case  it  was 
not  so,  for  I  had  been  well  washed  in  holy  water 
the  day  before  by  our  Jesuitj friend  Archie  Power 


180  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

here ;  and  he  well  knows  that  this  potent  liquor 
is  impassible  by  all  demons." 

Here  there  was  a  general  shont  of  langhter, 
and  Dennis  looked  quite  crestfallen.  Henley 
begged  his  pardon  in  a  way  irresistibly  ludicrous, 
and  we  drank  the  Orator's  health  with  a  gusto 
rather  displeasing  to  the  old  critic,  who  soon  rose 
up,  and  in  a  horrible,  silent  rage,  disappeared. 

Here  I  ventured  to  put  in  a  word. 

"  Gentlemen/'  I  said,  "  as  you  have  mentioned 
Steele,  allow  me  to  suggest  that  his  memory  is 
deserving  of  honour  in  any  literary  society — more 
especially  in  one  like  ours,  many  of  whose  mem- 
bers have  been  beholden  to  him."  And  I  told 
them,  with  a  little  variation,  all  that  had  happened 
between  myself  and  him. 

"  Aye,"  says  another,  "  Dick  was  a  fine,  good 
fellow.  I  was  down  in  Wales  when  he  died; 
where,  as  it  was  said— - 

1  From  perils  of  a  hundred  jails, 
Steele  fled  to  starve  and  die  in  Wales.' 

He  retained  his  cheerful,  happy  temper  to  the 
last.  When  he  was  so  far  gone  that  he  could  not 
walk,  he  would  be  carried  out  of  a  summer's 
evening,  when  the  country  lads  and  lasses  were 
assembled  at  their  rural  sports ;  and  1  have  seen 
him  give  one  of  his  few  guineas  to  buy  a  new 
gown  for  the  best  dancer." 


EDWARD  WORTLEf  MONTAGU.       181 

We  drank  his  memory — God  bless  him.  I  am 
now  old,  and  as  hard  as  adamant  itself;  but  I 
sometimes  find  the  tears  in  my  eyes  when  I  think 
of  Steele.  He  was  as  wild  as  Will-o'- the- Wisp, 
but  he  was  the  only  one  amid  the  rascally  crew 
of  what  is  called  our  Augustan  age  of  poetry, 
who  had  any  human  feeling.  To  have  had  even 
a  glimpse  of  him  has  helped  to  humanise  me. 
What  a  jest  it  was  to  make  such  an  honest  fellow 
Master  of  the  Royal  Company  of  Comedians — 
the  greatest  company  of  rogues  and  demireps  I 
suppose  that  ever  were  brought  together  out  of 
St.  James's  Palace.  Bnt  even  this  funny  berth 
he  never  could  have  got  had  he  not  by  some 
means  got  himself  to  be  M.P.  for  Wendover. 

"  Another  bumper,"  cried  Henley ;  "  another 
full  and  flowing  bumper  ;  and  let  me  preface  it 
with  a  story.  When  I  was  in  Scotland,  last  year, 
I  found  to  my  amazement  that  there  was  nothing 
but  rain,  rain,  rain.  Rain  in  the  hills,  rain  in 
the  valleys,  ram  in  the  lakes,  rain  in  the  streets, 
everywhere  perpetual  drizzle.  The  universal 
cloud  and  mist  reminded  me  of  Aaron  Hill's 
tragedies,  or  John  Oldmixon's  operas.  At  last  I 
said  to  a  fellow,  (  My  good  sir,  does  it  always 
rain  here  V  " 

u  i  Oh,  dear  nay/  answered  the  fellow,  '  it 
snaws  whiles.'  Now  I  found  that  it  not  only 
4  snawed,'  but  that  it  '  Hawed,'  also — and  as  I 


182  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

doubt  not  that  it  was  in  one  of  those  Scotch 
hurricanes  our  noble  compotator  MacAuley  was 
'blawed  '  here  to  us,  I  beg  to  propose  his  health 
and  success,  and  may  his  muse  be  always  like  his 
country's  showers  in  perpetual  flow  from  Hel — " 

"  Bravo,"  squeaked  out  Savage. 

"  Helicon,  I  should  have  said,  only  that  you  so 
impertinently  interrupted  me,"  said  Henley. 
il  Mr.  Savage,  I  fine  you  a  bottle  ;  you  should 
not  be  too  fond  of  reminding  us  where  you  your- 
self come  from." 

"  A  bottle !"  says  Savage ;  (t  and  where  the 
deuce  do  you  expect  I  shall  get  the  money  to  pay 
for  it  ?  If  I  were  a  mountebank  like  you  I  could 
raise  pence  at  will  from  the  butchers,  but  1  have 
to  depend  on  more  unfeeling  brutes  than  they — 
the  booksellers." 

"  You  know  the  law,  Mr.  Savage,"  said  Henley, 
"  and  you  must  either  pay  the  fine,  or  give  us  an 
impromptu.' 

'  Flow,  Savage,  flow,  like  thine  inspirer— beer, 
Though  stale  not  ripe,  though  thin  yet  never  clear  ; 
So  sweetly  mawkish,  and  so  smoothly  dull, 
Heady  not  strong,  o'erflowing  though  not  full.' 

The  Orator  repeated  these  lines  with  a  mock- 
heroic  imitation  of  Pitt,  irresistibly  comical,  and 
when  he  had  done,  he  again  bawled  out,  "  Now 
for  the  impromptu." 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       183 

"  An  impromptu  !  an  impromptu !"  cried  half- 
a-dozen,  who  probably  knew  from  experience  of 
their  own  pockets,  the  impossibility  of  getting  a 
bottle  from  Savage. 

"  On  what  subject  ?"  asked  this  hopeful  scion 
of  Lady  M. 

"  A  friend,  a  friend,"  said  Henley ;  a  then  we 
know  you  can  be  severe.  Let  me  see,  Pope  feeds 
you  now  and  then — give  us  a  stave  about  Pope." 

"  Aye,  Pope — Pope,"  echoed  nearly  all  the 
company.  The  bard  had  made  them  smart  under 
his  hoofs,  and  they  now  gathered  at  his  name 
like  a  nest  of  hornets.  There  was  no  zest  in 
satire  on  that  subject  from  Dennis,  but  Savage 
had  been  supported  by  Pope's  bounty,  and  the 
thing  promised  sport. 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  Savage,  with  a  mock  air 
of  sadness,  "  it  is  too  bad  for  you  to  force  me  to 
attack  my  friend  and  benefactor ;  but  if  I  must, 
I  must,  and  here  goes."  And  after  musing 
awhile,  the  grateful  pensioner  of  Twickenham's 
imp  began  as  follows : — 

"Oft  have  I,  moved  with  anger,  seen 
Sad  object  of  envenomed  spleen 
A  painted  butterfly  unfold 
Its  spangled  wings  bedropt  with  gold, 
And  basking  in  a  summer's  day 
The  glories  of  its  plumes  display, 
While  issuing  from  his  mazy  cell 
With  rage  replete,  a  spider  fell." 


184  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 


"  Hear,  hear,"  says  Hill;    "  that's  Pope,  I'll 
swear." 


"  Indignant  views  the  pretty  form, 
And  spits  upon  the  painted  worm , 
So  Pope  of  spiders  kind  and  make — ' ' 

u  Hurrah !  hurrah !"  clamoured  half  a  dozen. 


"  A  monstrous  form,  all  legs  and  back, 
Crawls  hateful  from  his  hole  obscure. 
Nor  lovely  object  can  endure, 
But  views  with  envy,  pride,  and  hate, 
The  shining  honours  of  the  great ; 
Till  squeezing  forth  his  poisonous  steam, 
The  subtle  still  malignant  stream , 
Blackens  infectious  as  it  flows  ; 
Heroes  and  statesmen,  belles  and  beaux, 
He  rails  and  bids  the  world  despise 
Whate'er  his  ugly  soul  outvies." 


These  verses  were  received  with  applause. 
Savage  was  vain  of  them  as  an  author,  though  I 
think  somewhat  ashamed  of  them  as  a  man. 

"  Are  they,  indeed,  your  own  ?"  asked  Aaron 
Hill.     "I  think  1  have  read  them  before." 

"  That  is  what  everybody  says  of  your  rubbish," 
answered  Savage ;  t4  though  nobody  is  mad 
enough  to  doubt  it  is  your  own." 

"  By  St.  Patrick,"  says  one  of  the  Irishmen, 
"  nobody  else  except  himself  could  write  as  bad 
as  Hill,  even  if  he  was  paid  for  it." 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  185 

"  Aye,"  says  Gleig,  "  and  we  know  what 
Leviticus  says  :— 

"  Says  Moses  to  his  brother  Aaron, 
Your  songs  are  bad  and  beyond  bearing." 

Poor  Aaron,  who  was  not  at  all  prepared  for 
this  onslaught,  remained  silent  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening. 

"And  yet,"  says  Concanen,  "I  own  I  feel 
anxious  to  see  his  tragedy  of  Cinna,  on  which 
Rowe  has  written. 

'  Hill  for  his  precious  soul  cares  not  a  pin-a, 
For  he  can  now  do  nothing  else  but  Gin-na.' 

"  But  we  have  not  heard  MacAuley's  speech," 
says  Booth,  the  actor,  who  by  some  odd  chance 
found  himself  amid  this  troop  of  ragamuffins. 

"  Nay,"  says  Mac,  "  I  have  no  speech  to 
make,  but  I  should  like  to  say  a  word  or  two." 

"  Bear  !  hear  !  hear  !  "  bawled  Henley. 

"Was  any  one  present  t'other  night/'  asked 
our  Scotchman,  "  when  the  Orator  was  floored 
by  two  lads  from  Oxford?" 

"  Order  !  order  !  chair!  silence  !  "  roared  Hen- 
ley. 

"  Tell  us — tell  us !  "  bellowed  out  a  dozen 
voices  in  reply. 

"  You   know,1'    cries    Mac,    "  that   our    noble 


186       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

chairman  has  covered  the  metropolis  with  posters, 
promising  to  give  an  impartial  decision  on  any 
question  that  may  be  discussed  before  him  at  his 
Wednesday  night  meetings.  Well,  two  lads 
came  before  him  a  night  or  two  ago — I  hear  their 
names  were  Selwyn  and  Parsons— and  argued  at 
great  length,  one  in  favour  of  Henley's  ignorance, 
while  the  other  contended  that  impudence  was 
his  chief  characteristic.  When  the  question  came 
to  be  decided  by  the  chair,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  it 
was  found  empty,  the  universal  genius  having 
sneaked  off." 

u  It  appears  to  me,"  says  Morgan,  "  that  these 
Oxford  boys  treated  our  reverend  friend  as  dis- 
courteously as  Swift  did  when  he  waited  on  him ; 
for  they  say  he  offered  him  the  dregs  of  a  bottle 
of  wine,  saying  that  he  always  kept  a  poor  parson 
about  him  to  drink  up  his  dregs." 

"  Bravo !  bravo !  "  cried  MacAuley. 

A  general  titter  went  round  the  room  ;  the 
Scotchman  had  avenged  himself,  and  Henley 
looked  black  with  fury.     Theobald  got  up. 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  he  u  allow  me  to 
address  you." 

"About  what?"  demanded  Henley,  "haven't 
you  sufficiently  exposed  yourself?" 

"  How  ?  why  ?  when  ?  where  ?  explain  !  order  ! 
shame  !    chair !    chair !    chair !    silence ! '      Such 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  187 

was  the  Babel  of  sounds  that  greeted  this  ques- 
tion of  the  oratorical  parson. 

"  Why/'  said  Henley,  "  if  Mr.  Theobald  had 
had  the  good  sense  to  remain  silent,  no  one  would 
have  known  that  he  was  drunk,  or  guessed  that 
he  was  a  pedant;  but  he  now  proposes  by  a 
speech  to  exhibit  himself  in  both  characters  at 
once.  I  hope  gentlemen,  for  the  sake  of  our 
credit  as  a  club,  we  shall  not  permit  this  folly." 

"  Henley,  you  dirty  scoundrel  of  a  parson  !  " 
began  Theobald  ; — but  ere  he  could  say  another 
word,  Henley  beckoned  to  Figg  and  said, 
"  Now." 

Figg  at  once  rose,  and  making  towards  Theo- 
bald, carried  him  downstairs,  and  having  de- 
posited him  in  the  kennel  (I  hope),  came  back 
as  if  there  was  nothing  unusual  in  such  a  trifle. 
This  summary  proceeding  silenced  some  of  those 
who  would  have  been  refractory,  but  who  after 
this  were  prudent  enough  to  be  still. 

"  Gentlemen  wits  of  high  Olympian  places,'* 
said  Henley,  "  it  now  devolves  on  me  to  propose 
the  health  of  an  illustrious  and  honoured  Poet, 
whose  fate  is  not  so  splendid  as  he  deserves,  but 
who  will  be  regarded  by  all  future  ages  as  the 
Naso,  Lucan,  perhaps  even  the  Maro  of  the 
present.  I  won't  couple  his  name  with  that  of 
the  judge  who  tried  him,  for  the  two  should  not 


188  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

be  mentioned  on  the  same  Page;  nor  will  I 
allude  to  his  right  honourable  dame,  whose 
renown  will  last  while  rivers  run  into  the  ocean, 
or  the  town  of  Macclesfield  produces  savages. 
But  this  I  will  say,  that  of  all  the  bardic  tribe 
that  ever  flourished,  or  rather  faded  in  the  dusty 
groves  of  London,  our  celebrated  composer 
Richard  Savage  has  the  most  right  to  fling  all  the 
dirt  he  can  collect  upon  that  tipsy  jade  Miss 
Fortune.     Well  has  the  poet  written  : 

'  Of  those  few  fools  who  with  ill  stars  are  curst, 
Sure  scribbling  fools  called  Poets,  fare  the  worst  ; 
For  they're  a  set  of  fools  which  Fortune  makes, 
And  after  she  has  made  'em  fools,  forsakes. 
With  Nature's  oafs  'tis  quite  a  different  case, 
For  Fortune  favours  all  her  idiot  race  ; 
In  her  own  nest  the  cuckoo  eggs  we  find, 
O'er  which  she  broods  to  hatch  the  changeling  kind  ; 
No  portion  for  her  own  she  has  to  spare, 
So  much  she  doats  on  her  adopted  care.* 

And  never  has  the  caprice  of  that  ill-favoured 
harridan  been  more  clearly  developed  than  in  the 
harlequin  career  of  our  vagabond — I  mean  our 
wandering  friend  and  brother,  who  from  the 
moment  of  his  birth  down  to  the  present  instant, 
when  he  can  scarcely  be  said  to  live  at  all,  has 
been  the  flying  football  for  her  incessant  kicks/' 
11  Hear,  hear,"  shouted  half  a  score  of  wits, 
poetasters  who  envied,  or  hated  Savage ;  and  who 
had  not  a  tenth  of  his  genius. 


EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU.  189 

"  Therefore,"  continued  Henley,  "  I  beg  leave 
to  propose  Richard  Savage  and  his  health,  as  our 
next  and  honoured  toast," 

We  all  drank  it ;  indeed  we  would  have  drank 
Satan's  health  had  it  been  given.  The  thing 
served  as  an  excuse  for  tossing  off  a  pot. 

u  May  he  be  promoted  to  the  peerage,"  said 
one. 

"  Aye,"  answered  another,  "  I  should  like  to 
see  him  with  his  hereditary  coronet.  He  will  do 
honour  to  the  House  of  Lords." 

"  And  I  hope  he  will  impeach  Page,"  said 
Warren. 

"  And  spend  his  mone\  on  literature,"  added 
Butt. 

"  My  lords  and  gentlemen,"  said  Savage, 
rising  gracefully  enough,  for  he  was  not  drunk 
yet,  "I  thank  you  for  this  high  and  unexpected 
honour.  Pliny  I  think  it  was  who  said  that  he 
could  collect  gold  ex  Enniano  stercore.  I  also 
have  been  equally  happy  in  getting  applause 
from  a  source  as  dignified; — 1  mean  our  reverend 
illustrious  chairman,  and  the  noble  wits  by  whom 
he  is  surrounded.  I  beg  to  drink  all  your  good 
healths,"  and  he  sat  down. 

This  horrible  sarcasm  would  probably  have 
produced  bloodshed  had  it  been  understood  ;  but 
the  great  majority  of  the  assembled  wits  knew 


190  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

Latin  only  when  it  was  made  plain  to  them  by 
a  dictionary,  and  the  rest  were  perhaps  too  drunk 
or  indolent  to  resent  what  was  a  general  rather 
than  an  individual  insult.  Henley,  of  course,  knew 
what  his  friend  intended  to  convey,  but  he  was 
for  once  abashed,  and  did  not  retort.  After  a 
pause  of  some  minutes  he  again  rose. 

"  Gentlemen,"  quoth  he,  u  I  hope  your  glasses 
are  all  filled  ;" — the  company  immediately  re- 
plenished. 

u  I  give  you,"  says  the  Orator,  u  the  health 
of  our  great  literary  patron,  Henry  Howard,  Earl 
of  Suffolk,  an  illustrious  prose  and  poetical  writer, 
great  in  Pastoral,  greater  in  Sapphick's,  though 
I  very  much  doubt  whether  a  future  age  will  have 
the  happiness  of  knowing  anything  about  him." 

"  How  can  that  be?"  says  Savage,  "  when  his 
lordship  has  nine  living  muses  to  inspire  him? 
each  as  chaste  and  beautiful  as  those  of  Helicon 
itself." 

"  Explain,  explain,"  shouted  Henley.  "  I  al- 
ways thought  his  only  muse  was  '  Bysshe's  Art  of 
Poetry.'  " 

"  I  called  on  his  lordship  last  week  to,  ahem — 
to—" 

"Out  with  it,"  says  Amhurst,  "  to  solicit  a 
subscription — to  beg  a  guinea." 

"  To  ask  him  whether  in   the  last  Craftsman 


EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU.  191 

the  mad,  the  silly,  or  the  stupid  element  most 
predominated  ?"  added  Savage,  apparently  pur- 
suing the  same  train  of  thought,  "  when  the  Earl 
began  to  read  some  of  his  most  impassioned 
verses.  He  came  to  a  passage  something  like 
this — 

*  But  who  can  paint  the  splendours  of  her  eyes 
Which  fill  the  Gods  of  Heaven  with  surprise, 
And  makes  Jove's  lightning  envious  as  it  flies  P 

"  Here  he  stopped  and  said,  *  Mr.  Savage,  I 
am  not  like  most  poets.  I  do  not  draw  from  ideal 
mistresses ,  I  always  have  my  subject  before  me ;' 
and  ringing  for  a  footm  an,  he  said  ■  Call  up  Fine 
Eyes.'  A  splendid  vestal  from  Drury  Lane, 
Mother  Holcombe's,  or  some  such  classic  neigh- 
bourhood, appeared.  '  Fine  Eyes,'  said  my  lord, 
'  look  full  on  this  gentleman,'  and  he  read  some 
more  of  this  nonsense  descriptive  of  her  goggles. 
Another  and  another  was  summoned,  as  neck, 
breast  or  arms  came  to  be  portrayed,  until  I  had 
seen  all  his  Muses  from  head  to  foot,  and  com- 
pared the  living  charms  which  they  presented 
with  those  which  Lord  Suffolk  had  described." 

"  And  how  much  did  you  swindle  the  fool  out 
of  ?"  asked  Bower,  when  our  chorus  had  subsided. 

li  I  think  1  should  have  nailed  him  for  a  dedi- 
cation fee,  but  that  he  said  you  had  sent  to  him 
a  week  before  from  the  Fleet,  and  his  last  avail- 


192  EDWAKD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

able  funds  were  expended  in  releasing  you,"  an- 
swered Savage,  with  fine  coolness. 

u  I  vow  it  would  puzzle  Satan,"  retorted  Bower, 
"  to  find  which  of  you  was  the  greater  liar  and 
rascal." 

"  Order,  order,  illustrious  and  noble  writers," 
shouted  Henley,  "  don't  let  us  quarrel  over  such 
a  dunce  as  this.  I  remember  seeing  one  of  his 
plays  in  manuscript.  It  was  a  glorious  tragedy, 
such  as  Tibbald  should  write  notes  on,  in  which 
Charles  the  Second  played  the  chief  character. 
After  the  battle  of  Worcester,  seeking  shelter  at 
the  hut  of  an  old  woman,  the  royal  fugitive  was 
accosted  as  follows  : — (  Why,  you  black,  tawney- 
faced,  lanthom-jawed,  charcoal-browed,  wide- 
mouthed,  long-nosed,  lath-backed,  spindle- 
shanked  ninny  ' — which  it  must  be  owned  was  an 
accurate  description  enough.  But  that  rogue 
Colley  wouldn't  play  it,  and  so  I  think  we  had, 
therefore,  betterproceedtothenext  toast  on  my  list. 
Gentlemen,  fill — fill,  replenish  grandly,  plentifully 
and  bounteously,  until  we  resemble  the  happy  fly 
of  Babelais.  If  there  was  any  one  here  who  knew 
Latin,  I  would  say — 

*  In  cyatlw  vini  pJeno  cum  musca  periret 
Sic  ait  Densus,  sponte  perire  velim.'  " 

Here  a  tumult  arose  among   the   translators, 


EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  193 

who  were  indignant  at  this  reflection  on  their 
classical  lore. 

"  Why,  faith,  gentlemen,"  says  Henley,  "see. 
ing  that  not  one  of  you  knows  English,  I  could 
scarcely  suppose  you  knew  Latin — but  fill  full- 
I  give  you  the  health  of  Archibald  Bower,  Esq., 
late  a  Jesuit  and  lover  of  the  pretty  nun  of 
Perugia  ;  though  I  regret  much,  for  the  sake  of 
the  cloth,  that  the  scandal  was  found  out.  Hip, 
hip,  hurrah !" 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  regret  it,"  saya 
Sparrow,  one  of  our  translators,  "  as  the  discovery 
of  the  amour  caused  him  to  come  among  us,  and 
shine  so  brightly  in  the  literary  world. 

1  Parnassus  has  a  mighty  flower, 
Which  Phoebus  saw  and  christened  Bower.' " 

"  Aye,  faith,"  says  Mil  wood,  another  poor 
hack,  "  but  I  think  he  didn't  shine  so  well  in 
that  affair  of  Lyttleton." 

"  What  affair?"  demanded  half  a  dozen  voices. 
Bower  got  very  uneasy,  and  I  think  if  he  had 
been  near  Mil  wood  he  would  have  choked  him. 
But  the  latter  knew  Bower's  temper,  and  took 
care  to  be  a  good  distance  away  from  him,  other- 
wise I  am  sure  he  would  not  have  opened  his 
lips. 

u  Gentlemen,"    says    Bower,   hastily,    "  this 
story  about  Lyttleton  is  a  lie." 
vol.  u.  K 


194  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

"What  story?"  says  the  Orator,  "I  didn't 
hear  any  yet." 

"  Caught,    caught — fairly    caught,"     roared 
Savage. 

"  Why,  then,"  shouted  Bower,  "  you  are  all  a 
parcel  of  low-bred  rogues  if  you  won't  believe  me, 
and  I  won't  disgrace  myself  any  longer  by  sitting 
in  your  company."  And  he  left  the  room  in 
great  dudgeon.  We  could  hear  his  curses  as  he 
rolled  down  stairs. 

"Now  then,  Mil  wood,"  says  the  Orator. 

"  Why  this  Jesuit  bragged  everywhere  that  he 
had  written  a  poem  called  Blenheim,  and  as  it 
was  a  pretty  thing  he  got  some  applause.  The 
next  time  he  waited  on  his  patron  Lyttleton,  he 
said  to  Bower, i  But,  Mr.  Bower,  is  this  true  what 
I  hear — that  you  wrote  Blenheim  ?' 

" c  Yes,  indeed,  sir,'  says  the  Scotchman,  ■  1 
did,  and  I  hope  you  like  it.' 

"  i  And  how  long  did  it  take  you,  Mr.  Bower, 
to  spin  so  fine  a  work  ?' 

"  '  Oh  !  sir,  I  did  it  all  at  one  sitting.' 

"  *  I  should  like  to  see  the  original  manuscript,' 
said  the  patron. 

"  i  You  certainly  shall,  sir,  and  when  next  1 
call  I  will  bring  it.5 

u  Lyttleton  turned  to  Pope,  who  was  present, 
saying,  l  What  do  you  think  of  this.     Our  friend 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       195 

here  does  a' t  know  that  I  wrote  the  poem  myself.* 
How  Bower  got  out  of  the  room  report  saith 
not ;  but  as  he  still  understraps  for  Lyttleton, 
and  does  his  dirty — I  mean  his  political— work, 
I  suppose  he  has  forgiven  him." 

"  Hurrah  !"  says  Henley.  "  Archie  did  well  to 
take  his  leave,  though  I  doubt  it  would  be  no 
easy  matter  to  make  his  Scotch  hide  wear  a  blush. 
Another  bumper,  gentlemen ;  fill  fall,  and  drink 
the  conjoined  healths  of  Squire  Mil  wood  and 
Squire  Amhurst.  I  know  no  man  since  the  days 
of  Teofilo  Folingi  who  knows  Latin  better  than 
the  first ;  and  none  since  the  era  of  Thersites 
who  can  reason  like  the  second.  They  are  indeed 
Arcades  ambo — which  I  have  heard  translated, 
though  I  won't  say  how. 

"  '  Great  weekly  writers  of  seditious  news, 
Take  care  your  subject  artfully  to  choose  ; 
Write  panegyricks  strong,  or  boldly  rail, 
You  cannot  mis3  preferment  or  a  jail. 
Wrap  up  your  poison  well,  nor  fear  to  say 
What  was  a  lie  last  night  is  truth  to-day. 
Tell  this,  sink  that,  arrive  at  Ridpath's  praise, 
Let  Abel  Roper  your  ambition  raise, 
Let  pilloried  Daniel  be  the  light  refined 
That  girds  your  path  and  animates  your  mind. 
To  lie  fit  opportunity  observe, 
Saving  some  double  meaning  in  reserve. 
But  oh  !  you'll  merit  everlasting  fame 
If  you  can  quibble  on  Sir  Robert's  name." 

And  Henley  sat  down  like  some  mocking  devil 

E  2 


]96  EDWARD    WOBTLEY   MONTAGU. 

of  Pandemonium.  Poor  Milwood,  and  still 
poorer  Amhurst,  who  was  great  only  with  his 
pen,  were  both  fairly  knocked  on  the  head  by 
these  compliments.  They  could  not  speak  a 
word,  but  seemed  verily  bursting  with  shame. 
So  we  drank  to  them  without  calling  for  a 
speech. 

In  this  manner  Henley  proceeded  until  nearly 
every  member  of  this  gay  and  brilliant  company 
had  smarted  under  his  tongue.  I  could  see  rage 
gathering  and  growing  into  boiling  heat,  and  was 
anxious  to  escape  before  matters  came  to  a  crisis. 
The  club  was  now,  indeed,  more  than  half-drunk. 
Henley's  eyes  twinkled,  and  he  began  to  get 
more  personal  and  savage.  At  last  he  singled 
out  a  Scotchman,  who  had  sat  in  terrible  silence 
ever  since  Bower's  discomfiture,  and  was  evidently 
meditating  vengeance  for  the  insult  to  his  country  - 
man.  # 

"  Now  then,  you  Scotch  louse,"  said  the  Orator, 
"  i,rive  us  a  song.  I'm  tired  of  having  to  do  all 
this  talk." 

L'he  "  Scotch  louse "  made  no  answer,  but 
rising  up  he  rushed  at  Henley,  to  my  immense, 
intense  delight,  and  hit  him  between  the  eyes 
with  all  his  force.  The  blow  took  effect,  and 
knocked  him  over.  Like  a  Clare  market  pig  he 
fell. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  197 

There  was  a  general  uprising,  in  the  midst  of 
which  an  Irish  bard,  whose  blood  was  at  fever 
heat,  and  who  had  evidently  been  long  panting 
for  a  battle,  jumped  up  and  exclaimed  "  Fighting 
at  last — thank  God  !  "  whereupon  he  struck  out 
right  and  left  with  a  noble  disregard  of  any  con- 
sideration but  the  exquisite  luxury  of  inflicting 
blows.  The  pommelling  now  became  general. 
Figg,  like  a  lion  aroused,  rushed  into  the  conflict ; 
the  lights  were  extinguished  ;  there  was  a  com- 
mon rush  towards  the  chair — not,  I  fear,  to  pro- 
tect it,  but  to  give  vent  to  their  long  concealed 
frenzy  and  revenge  on  the  unfortunate  tenant  in 
possession;  sticks  rattled,  and  glasses  were 
smashed — I  now  knew  why  Savage  had  counselled 
me  to  bring  a  cudgel — groans,  threats,  and  curses 
were  intermingled,  and  I  escaped,  luckily,  with 
whole  bones,  getting  free  just  as  the  ni^ht  watch 
entered  to  convey  the  ringleaders  to  the  round- 
house, where,  I  fear,  they  fared  but  badly  until 
next  morning. 

11  Thus  the  soft  gifts  of  sleep  conclude  the  day, 
And  stretched  on  bulks,  as  usual  poets  lay  ; 
Why  should  I  sing  what  bards  the  nightly  muse, 
Did  slumbering  visit,  and  convey  to  stews  ? 
Who  prouder  marched  with  magistrates  in  state 
To  some  famed  round-house  ever  open  gate  ? 
How  Henley  lay  inspired  beside  a  sink, 
And  to  mere  mortals  seemed  a  priest  in  drink, 
While  others  timely  to  the  neighbouring  Fleet 
Haunt  of  the  muses,  make  their  safe  retreat." 


198       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

How  it  really  ended  I  never  enquired  ;  and  this 
sickened  me  for  the  rest  of  my  days  with  literary 
clnbs  and  coteries,  which  I  found  to  be  only  hot- 
beds of  falsehood  and  defamation.  Savage  did 
not  come  near  me  for  some  weeks.  Even  he  was 
ashamed  of  the  rapscallions  to  whom  he  had  in- 
troduced me,  and  when  we  did  meet  he  made  no 
allusion  to  the  fray. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  199 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


«i 


And  we  entered  into  the  house  of  Philip  the  Evangelist." 


One  day,  about  a  week  after  this,  Curll  sent  for 
me.  I  found  him  in  a  small  room  behind  his 
shop.     He  took  me  by  the  hand  as  I  entered. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  he  said,  "  I  have  had  an  offer 
made  to  me  by  a  noble  lord  of  a  sum  of  money — 
not  very  much,  by  Jove,  sir,  but  still  it  is  money, 
by  Jove,  sir." 

Here  he  looked  at  me  very  hard,  and  seeing 
that  I  enquired  as  plainly  as  I  could  with  my  eyes 
how  much  it  was,  he  added — 

"  A  hundred  pounds,  which  I  propose  to  divide 
equally  between  us.  The  consideration  for  which 
it  is  to  be  paid  is  this  :  you  are  aware  of  the  ap- 
proaching election  for  the  borough  of  Bilge  water  ? 


200  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

Great  excitement  is  kindled  on  both  sides ;  it  is 
rather  a  question  between  two  rival  houses — for 
one  of  the  candidates  is  secretly  backed  by 
Pulteney — than  between  opposite  political  fac- 
tions. Money  will  be  spent,  by  Jove,  sir,  and 
votes  will  be  procured,  no  matter  how.  The 
noble  individual  who  has  applied  to  me  is  de- 
termined to  win  ;  and  he  wants  me  to  get  him 
some  sharp,  shrewd,  clever  fellow,  by  Jove,  sir, 
who  can  compose  squibs,  ballads,  and  broadsides, 
write  letters,  and,  if  need  be,  pen  a  pamphlet 
during  the  squabble.  He  will  also  probably  have 
to  see  after  the  doubtful  electors,  and  make  him- 
self generally  useful,  by  Jove,  sir,  at  the  place. 
I  think  there  is  no  one  of  my  staff  on  whom  I 
can  so  fairly  depend  as  on  yourself  for  these 
varied  qualifications ;  and  now  what  do  you  say, 
by  Jove,  sir?" 

What  could  I  say  ?  I  had  only  five  shillings 
in  the  world  at  the  time,  and  but  little  prospect 
of  an  immediate  increase.  Fifty  pounds  was  like 
the  mines  of  Potosi. 

"  Mr.  Curll,"  I  replied,  "  I  suppose  I  must  do 
as  you  wish.  It  is  a  sort  of  work  to  which  I  am 
new,  and  I  fear  I  shall  play  my  part  but  indiffer- 
ently in  it.  However,  needs  must  when  the 
devil  or  a  noble  lord  drives — and  so  I  am  at  vour 


service." 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  201 

11 1  am  very  glad  you  see  it  in  so  sensible  a 
point  of  view,  by  Jove  !  sir,"  answered  my 
patron  ;  "  you  need  not  be  much  alarmed,  though 
you  are  a  novice ;  you  will  not  be  alone  in  the 
work,  but  shall  have  a  couple  of  companions, 
who  are  up  to  all  this  sort  of  thing,  and  will 
enlighten  you  fully  upon  these  masonic  mat- 
ters." 

"  And  pray  who  may  these  gentlemen  be,  Mr. 
Curll  ?" 

"  Well,  they  are  rather  loose  characters,  but 
useful,  useful,  by  Jove !  sir,  when  work  turns 
up.  The  first  we  call  The  Cannibal.  His  real 
name  is  Rooke ;  but  he  is  so  horribly  ugly  and 
fierce,  that  he  has  acquired  this  pleasant  nick- 
name. He  is  the  secretary  of  the  bribing  com- 
mittee at ,  and  will  do  most  of  that  sort  of 

work  which  is  a  little  too  dirty  for  his  employers. 
When  a  deluge  of  corruption — for  I  speak  frankly 
to  you,  Mr.  Smith — is  to  be  poured  upon  some 
unlucky  town,  the  Cannibal,  by  Jove !  sir,  is 
called  into  requisition,  and  as  he  is  an  adept,  the 
greatest  confidence  is  reposed  in  his  tricks  and 
schemes.  He  has  done  more  bribing  than  any 
man  in  England  ;  and  there  is  not  an  electioneer- 
ing dodge,  device,  or  fraud,  by  Jove !  sir,  in 
which  he  is  not  well  skilled.  He  it  was  who  in- 
vented   the    grand    mysteries     of    '  hocussing,' 

K  5 


202       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

'  bottling,'  l  buying  cats,'  aDd  *  polliDg  dead 
men ;'  and  when  his  friends  come  in,  they  will 
probably  make  him  a  judge  in  one  of  our  plan- 
tations,  or  something  else  equally  dignified,  in 
r  eward  for  his  invaluable  services,  by  Jove ! 
sir." 

Need  I  say  how  glad  I  felt  at  the  approaching 
happiness  of  knowing  such  an  illustrious  charac- 
ter ?     Curll  continued : 

"  The  other  gent  we  call  Shaveley  Bill.  It  is  a 
sort  of  travelling  name,  such  as  the  knowing 
'uns,  by  Jove,  sir,  use  at  racecourses  and  prize- 
fights. He  will  do  the  showman's  part  at  the 
election.  Ee  can  speak  for  twenty-four  hours 
by  Shrewsbury  clock,  and  there  will  be  nothing 
in  it  but  words,  words,  words ;  but,  by  Jove  !  sir, 
they  sound  like  tinkling  brass  :  when  he  sees 
the  attention  of  his  audience  flagging,  he  will 
introduce  something  broad,  fat,  and  nasty,  and 
make  them  laugh,  by  Jovel  sir,  but  whether  at 
his  filth,  or  his  folly,  he  don't  much  care.  This 
gets  votes,  and  this,  by  Jove !  sir,  is  his  voca- 
tion. He  can  laugh  like  a  horse,  and  tell  lies 
like  an  Austrian  ambassador ;  you  should  have 
seen  him  at  Coventry  last  election ;  he  can  drink, 
smoke,  and  jollify  with  the  greatest  blackguards 
in  their  own  style.  Ee,  like  the  Cannibal,  is 
looking  out  for  a  comfortable  berth,  and  he  was 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.      203 

last  year  secretary  to  a  sham  committee  for  an 
Oxford  election,  in  which  a  noodle  lordling  was 
put  up  against  a  statesman,  so  that  he  will  work 
indefatigably,  by  Jove  !  sir,  and  he  may  possibly 
get  you  into  something  good,  such  as  a  foot- 
man's   place,  with    the  prospect  of  a  pension. 
Indeed,  I  have  no  doubt  this  business  will  be  one 
of  the  best  introductions  into  public  life  that  you 
can  possibly  have— and  after  all,  my  dear  Mr. 
Smith,  though  literature  is  a  fine  thing  (here  he 
put  his  hand  upon  his  nose,  and  cried  c  fudge') 
nothing  pays  like  politics,  by  Jove  !  sir.     Brains 
command    their    price,  to  be  sure,  but  then   a 
man's  soul  is  of  more  worth  to  a  politician  ;  and 
the  ablest  head  in  England,  by  Jove !  sir,  tells 
only  for  just  as   much  in  the  House  on  a  divi- 
sion, as  the  vilest  dunce,  who  having  no  talent 
to  dispose  of,  sells  his  soul  to  the  minister,  and 
gets  a  bribe,  or  a  baronetcy  for  his  compliance, 
by  Jove !  sir." 

Little  as  I  had  seen  of  the  active  world  of  life, 
I  had  beheld  enough  to  convince  me,  that  in  this 
at  least,  Curll  spoke  accurately,  and  I  asked  my- 
self in  disgust  and  surprise,  why  in  the  name  of 
heaven  was  man  formed  and  the  earth  framed 
in  this  goodly  fashion,  if  nothing  else  is  to  be 
transacted  upon  it  but  rascality  like  this  ? 


204  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

The  bookseller  guessed  my  thoughts  ;  and 
grinned  at  ray  inexperience. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  to  be  sore  it  is  a  shabby 
mode  of  getting  on  in  life,  but  if  the  good  men, 
by  Jove !  sir,  won't  do  it,  why  the  blackguards 
will ;  and  would  it  not  be  bad,  Mr.  Smith,  if  all 
the  fine  things  on  earth  belonged  only  to  the 
knaves  and  vagabonds,  by  Jove  !  sir  ?" 

I  answered  that  I  certainly  thought  it  would  ; 
but  I  did  not  add,  as  I  ought,  that  I  would 
rather  do  without  them  myself  than  become  a 
knave  and  vagabond  for  their  sake.  At  twenty, 
I  am  afraid,  though  we  surmise  these  things — 
poor  boys !  poor  boys  ! — we  have  not  self- 
restraint  enough  to  do  them ;  and  so  we  live  and 
live,  and  end  at  last  by  going  with  the  herd  after 
the  loaves  and  fishes,  and  finishing  our  career  in 
Hell,  which,  indeed,  is  the  only  place  for  which 
we  have  fitted  ourselves,  in  this  mortal  career. 
And  I  suppose  there  is  the  same  amount  of  in- 
trigue, and  scheming,  and  faction,  and  violence 
there,  to  get  into  a  cool  corner,  as  there  is  on 
this  earth  to  get  into  a  warm  one.  Nor  can  I 
doubt  that  the  monarch  of  those  regions  gets  as 
much  adulation  from  his  subjects  as  Walpole, 
Bute,  or  Pitt  ever  received  at  St.  James's  ;  and 
all  for  the  same  reason,  and  with  the  same  ob- 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  205 

ject;  and  with  equal  sincerity  of  heart.  There 
is  a  fanatic  of  the  name  of  Swedeberg,  or  Sweden- 
borg,  who  has  made  more  voyages  to  hell  than 
Eneas,  and  talked  more  with  the  devil  than  Dr. 
Luther,  and  he,  I  think,  gives  nearly  a  similar 
account  of  the  infernal  polity ;  and,  as  he  speaks 
from  experience,  we  may  well  believe  him. 
Dante's  notions  of  the  place  are  all  evidently 
founded  on  delusion.  The  real  truth  is,  that  it 
is  something  like  this  earth,  only  not  quite  so 
wicked. 

Curll  gave  me  a  note  to  the  Cannibal,  whom  I 
found  in  a  fashionable  street  at  the  West  end  of 
London.  He  had  just  before  married  a  farmer's 
daughter  as  ugly  as  a  witch,  and  rotten  with  the 
king's  evil ;  but  he  got  five  hundred  a  year 
settled  on  himself  by  the  old  fool  of  a  father,  who 
would  not  have  given  a  shilling  to  save  any  fel- 
low Christian  from  starvation;  and  his  wife 
dying  off  in  six  months,  the  man-eater  was  now 
as  free  and  merry  as  a  baboon,  and  was  probably 
looking  ont  for  another  stroke  of  luck  of  the  same 
nature,  being  at  all  times  ready  to  take  half  a 
dozen  putrid  women  on  his  hands,  so  long  as 
they  brought  him  "  de  monish."  He  sat  in  a 
room  surrounded  by  looking  glasses,  and  was 
contemplating  with  Narcissus-like  delight  the 
ugliest  countenance  that  God   ever  made  since 


206  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

Judas ;  for  his  eyes  were  not  fellows,  but  one 
squinted  upwards  towards  his  eyebrow,  while  the 
other  glanced  askew  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  on 
the  look-out  for  a  bailiff;  his  face  was  pitted  all 
over  with  the  small  pox,  as  if  Satan  had  been 
playing  the  devils'  tattoo  upon  it  when  it  was 
first  moulded  and  was  yet  soft ;  and  he  looked 
exactly  like  Thersites,  whom  he  resembled  also  in 
ail  mental,  moral,  and  physical  qualifications.  I 
presented  my  note,  and  as  the  fellow  read  it  I 
could  not  help  asking  myself  what  sort  of  ■ 
minister  of  state  must  that  man  be  who  would 
appoint  such  a  creature  to  adjudicate  on  the 
liberties  or  fortunes  of  others ;  and  yet  nothing 
seemed  more  likely  than  that  this  scoundrel  would 
wake  up  one  fine  morning  and  find  himself  • 
judge,  and  all  as  a  reward  for  a  career  of  base- 
ness, lying,  and  subserviency  of  the  meanest  and 
foulest  description.  The  minister  would,  indeed, 
say,  if  asked  why  he  had  committed  such  a  crime, 
u  What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  wanted  scavenger's  work 
done,  and  I  could  get  nobody  to  do  it  except  a 
scavenger."  But  this,  though  plausible  enough, 
is  no  valid  excuse ;  for  what  business  have  affairs 
of  state  with  cesspool  matters  such  as  this  ruffian 
was  engaged  about? 

11  Mr.  Smith,"  said  my  new  acquaintance,  in  a 
hoarse,   gutteral  voice,  such   as  an  imp  in  the 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  207 

influenza  would  use,  "  you  have  come  in  good 
time.  I  am  just  going  off  to  Lord  Chesterfield, 
who  takes  a  great  interest  in  this  election,  and 
who,  indeed,  is  to  be  the  medium  through  which 
the  money  comes.  I  scarcely  know  whether  I 
ought  to  take  you  to  his  lordship,  but  I  will  run 
the  risk,  and  if  he  don't  like  it  he  may  go  to  hell. 

There  must  be  no  d d  humbug  between  him 

and  me,  or  you  either.  He  wants  us  just  now, 
and  he  must  have  us— so  come  along." 

We  proceeded  to  Grosvenor  Square,  where  this 
noble  statesman  then  lived.  We  found  him  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  appliances  of  splendid  and 
luxurious  wealth.  His  house  was  a  temple  of  the 
arts,  while  he,  the  divinity  of  the  temple,was  like 
an  Egyptian  idol,  a  monkey,  a  weasel,  or  a  cat. 
He  was  short,  with  coarse  features,  and  a  cadaver- 
ous complexion,  long-visaged,  and  long-necked; 
but  from  the  shoulders  to  the  waist  so  stunted 
that  he  gave  you  the  notion  of  a  grenadier  cut 
down.  There  was  an  appearance  of  self-conceit 
about  him  that  was  very  sickening;  his  eyes 
showed  an  immense  depth  of  dissimulation,  aDd 
his  forehead  was  utterly  deficient  in  any  moral 
quality.  It  was  the  head  and  body  of  an  ouran- 
outang,  but  an  ouran-outang  of  great  subtlety. 
1  had  by  this  time  begun  to  read  the  hand- 
writing of  nature  upon   every   man,  and  I  knew 


208  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

what  sort  of  a  mammal  was  now  present  Yet 
this  varlet  was  thought  to  be  the  finest  gentleman 
of  the  time.  From  this  you  may  judge  what  its 
gentlemen  were. 

"  Bully  Rooke,"  said  Lord  Chesterfield,  "  lam 
glad  you  are  come.     Who  is  your  friend  ?" 

My  companion  handed  his  lordship  the  note 
which  I  had  brought  from  Curll,  and  that  illus- 
trious peer,  having  read  it,  turned  to  me  with  a 
knowing  look. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  he  said,  "  I  find  you  can  be 
trusted.  This  election  must  be  won,  per  fas  aut 
nefas,  as  the  Romans,  our  great  prototypes,  used 
to  say,  and  which  the  Septuagint  translates  '  by 
hook  or  by  crook,'  and  I  believe  if  you  and  Mr. 
Rooke  work  cordially  we  may  mark  down  the 
place  as  our  own." 

I  bowed,  and  said — 

"  My  lord,  I  will  do  what  I  can  ;  I  have  no 
doubt  all  will  be  right." 

The  peer  stared  at  me. 

u  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  "  what  you  mean  by 
'  right ;'  but,  Mr.  Smith,  I  know  that  this  elec- 
tion must  be  won.  Walpole  will  go  wild  if  that 
dirty  fellow  Pulteney  gets  his  man  in.  The  fact 
is  the  spread  of  baseness  and  rascality  is  so  much 
enlarged  that  every  barrier  is  needed  to  stay  the 
advancing  tide,  and  so  long  as  we  can  command 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       209 

a  majority  in  the  House  of  Commons — for  we  are 
always  sure  of  the  Lords — so  loug  will  everything 
be  safe.  As,  therefore,  the  saltation  of  the  whole 
empire  depends  upon  the  condition  of  this  branch 
of  the  legislature,  it  follows,  logically,  that  no 
means  must  be  left  untried  to  secure  this  great 
and  splendid  result.  As  Sidney  said — I  presume, 
sir,  you  'know  Latin  ? — aut  mam  inveniam — aut 
faciam" 

"  Which  means,"  says  Eooke,  u  If  the  devil 
don't  find  me  out  I'll  find  him,"  at  which  there 
was  a  general  laugh. 

"  Is  it  your  lordship's  opinion,  then,"  I  said, 
€t  that  the  end  justifies  the  means  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is ;  I  believe  not  only  that 
the  end  justifies  the  means,  but  that  the  means 
justify  the  end.  Indeed  no  man  can  pretend  to 
be  a  statesman  who  does  not  hold  both  as  the 
very  principal  foundation  of  his  polity.  Is  not 
this  your  notion,  my  good  Doctor  ?" 

And  Lord  Chesterfield  turned  to  a  solemn, 
shallow-looking  individual  in  black,  whom  I 
afterwards  ascertained  to  be  Dr.  Young,  and  who 
was  then  in  the  beginning  of  that  career  of 
desperate  sycophancy  which  won  for  him  in  a  short 
time,  from  his  noble  patrons,  the  lavish  wealth 
in  which  he  rolled. 

"My  dear    and    noble    lord,"    answered  Dr. 


210       EDWABD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

Young,  "  your  lordship  speaks  now  with  the 
same  consummate  wisdom  and  truth  which  dis- 
tinguishes every  sentiment  which  falls  from  your 
lips.  The  greatest  statesmen  have  always  acted 
upon  this  principle  which  your  lordship  has  so 
beautifully  and  tersely  enunciated,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  they  will  so  continue  to  act  until  the 
consummation  of  all  things.  Nor,  indeed,  could 
affairs  of  moment  be  conducted  otherwise ;  and 
it  augurs  well  for  the  future  of  our  happy  land 
that  such  illustrious  ornaments  of  the  nobility  as 
your  lordship  should  maintain  and  act  upon 
axioms  which  may  be  truly  called  the  amulets  of 
wisdom  herself."  And  the  reverend  gentleman 
smiled  and  bowed  obsequiously,  like  the  devil 
when  he  begged  as  a  little  favour  from  Heaven 
the  right  to  persecute  holy  Job. 

M  But,  sir,"  I  ventured  to  put  in,  "  I  had 
always  thought  it  was  only  the  Jesuit  order  who 
preached  and  practised  the  maxim  you  have 
alluded  to." 

Young  looked  at  me  with  profound  contempt. 
I  was  shabbily  dressed,  and  evidently  poor  of 
purse — the  two  superlative  degrees  of  baseness 
and  abomination  in  the  eyes  of  this  paragon  of 
parsons.  He  did  not  even  deign  to  answer,  but 
curled  his  lip,  and  grinned  at  his  lordly  patron, 
with  a  supercilious  glance  at  myself  and  a  servile 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  2 1  I 

smile  of  adulation  upon  the  peer,  which  were 
absolutely  loathsome  to  look  upon.  Chesterfield 
himself  regarded  me  as  one  regards  some 
prattling  child  or  braying  ass,  but  unlike  Young, 
he  was  too  well  bred  to  treat  anyone  with 
scorn. 

"  My  good  Mr.  Smith,"  asked  he,  u  how  long 
have  you  been  under  the  guidance  of  our  esteemed 
friend  Rooke  here  ?  I  should  have  thought  you 
would  have  learned  better  under  such  excellent 
auspices." 

u  By  God !  my  lord,''  said  the  Cannibal, 
evidently  frightened  at  being  supposed  to  have 
instructed  me  in  such  blasphemous  notions  as 
that  which  I  had  just  broached  ;  "  by  Grod  !  my 
lord,"  said  he,  "  I  am  wholly  unanswerable  for 
Mr.  Smith,  or  his  cursed  follies  in  this  respect, 
for  I  never  saw  him  until  this  day." 

"You  have  in  truth,  sir,"  said  Young, 
glancing  sarcastically  at  myself  and  my  thread- 
bare coat,  "called  them  6 cursed  follies;'  for 
surely  that  must  be  c  accursed,'  which  questions 
the  excellence  of  any  of  the  wise  and  holy  men, 
who  are  celebrated  in  Holy  Writ,  and  who  as  we 
know,  based  much  of  their  practice  on  what 
this  inexperienced  young  gentle — I  mean,  man — 
has  ventured  to  controvert.  Laban,  the  son  of 
Nahor,  deceived    Jacob  when  he  covenanted  for 


212  EDWARD    WORTLEY    MONTAQTJ. 

Rachel — both  were  men  of  God,  and  we  may  he 
assured  that  the  inspired  penman  would  have 
left  his  stigma  on  the  fraud  if  it  were  any  in  the 
eyes  of  Heaven.  Abraham  told  lies  to  King 
Abimelech,  and  utterly  frustrated  him ;  the 
daughters  of  Lot  also  deceived  their  father,  and 
became  the  mothers  of  great  tribes.  Jacob  and 
his  most  religious  mother  deceived  Isaac  in  his 
old  age,  for  the  righteous  purpose  of  excluding 
Esau  from  his  birthright,  and  we  know  how 
Heaven  blessed  the  pious  stratagem.  The  sons 
of  Jacob  answered  Sheckem  and  Hamor  his 
father  deceitfully,  and  a  great  and  splendid 
moral  lesson  of  retribution  was  soon  after  given 
to  these  two  royal,  but  most  pagan  personages, 
and  their  people,  for  i  the  sons  of  Jacob  came 
upon  the  city  boldly,  and  slew  all  the  males;  and 
they  slew  Hamor,  and  Sheckem  his  eon  with  the 
edge  of  the  sword,  they  took  their  sheep  and  their 
oxen,  and  their  asses,  and  that  which  was  in  the 
city,  and  that  which  was  in  the  field,  and  all  their 
wealth,  and  all  their  little  ones,  and  their  wiws 
took  they  captive,  and  spoiled  even  all  that  was 
in  the  house.'  These  facts  afford  proofs,  if  any 
were  wanted,  that  the  means  justify  the  end 
and  the  end  justifies  the  means,  for  the  end  in 
all  these  cases  was  most  holy  ;  and  though  the 
means  were  such  as  very  rigid  moralists,  or  very 


EDWAED    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  213 

silly  youths"  (here  again  he  glanced  at  me), 
"  might  venture  to  question,  still  I  would 
rather  believe  the  Sacred  Scriptures  than  either." 

"Capital,  capital,  my  dear  Doctor,"  cried 
Chesterfield,  "  you  ought  to  be  a  Bishop,  and  if 
ever  I  come  to  be  Prime  Minister,  you  shall  be 
the  first  to  whom  I  give  a  wig,  my  blessing,  and 
lawn  sleeves." 

"  May  God  grant  then  that  your  lordship  shall 
soon  reach  the  object  of  your  deserts,"  replied 
Young,  with  a  prayer  evidently  from  the 
heart.  I  thought  within  myself  of  Shakspere's 
line — 


(( 


The  Devil  can  cite  Scripture  for  his  purp°se>" 


and  I  remained  silent  and  ashamed.  What  a 
simpleton  I  must  have  looked  !  How  these  wise 
men  must  have  despised  me. 

Lord  Scarborough  was  now  announced.  He 
was  a  thick  vulgar  looking  man,  but  not  destitute 
of  a  certain  intellectual  development.  Like  his 
friend  Chesterfield,  he  prided  himself  on  infidelity; 
prated  about  Plato  with  a  shallow  flippancy  ;  aped 
Voltaire,  who  had  been  in  England  a  short  time 
before,  and  had  set  the  wits  of  half  the  peerage 
astray  with  his  monkey  scepticism  and  frog-like 
grimace  ;  and  having  learned  to  laugh  at  all  true 
religion,  was  of  course  a  very  apt  tool  for  such  a 


214  EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU. 

minister  as  Sir  Robert.  My  dear  mother  gives 
an  account  of  him  in  one  of  her  epistles,  and 
alludes,  I  think,  to  some  girl  whom  he  seduced, 
and  then  abandoned  (I  rather  fancy  it  was  poor 
Miss  Howe),  which  she  supposes  preyed  on  his 
sensitive  conscience,  for  a  very  short  time  after 
this,  he  shot  himself  through  the  head — I  sup- 
pose he  had  no  heart — and  was  found  a  corpse 
by  one  of  his  domestics;  who  like  a  loyal 
follower,  picked  his  pockets  and  fled.  But  what- 
ever it  was  that  made  him  felo  de  se,  I  have  no 
doubt  at  all  that  he  did  that  execution  on  himself 
which  the  hangman  in  the  natural  course  of 
things,  must  have  performed,  had  he  not  been  a 
peer  of  the  realm. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  cried  Chesterfield,  calling 
a  smile  into  his  yellow  features,  as  I  have  seen 
the  sun  playing  on  an  Egyptian  mummy,  "  I  am 
enchanted  to  see  you.  You  have  come  about  the 
election  at  Bilgewater,  I  suppose.  Well,  I 
think  we  shall  be  all  right  in  that  quarter. 
These  two  gentlemen  here,"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  Canuibal  and  myself,  "  are  about  most  kindly 
to  take  a  great  deal  of  trouble  off  our  hands,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  they  will  manage  all  things  per- 
fectly in  order.  L  e  Bayeux  may  make  his  mind 
easy  about  it." 

"  I  have  just  left  Sir  Robert,"  answered  Scar- 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  21£ 

borough,  "  and  he  feels  great  anxiety  on  the 
subject — indeed,  he  sent  me  direct  to  you.  He 
will  be  glad  to  hear  your  report,  and  I  think  I 
can't  do  better  than  return  and  let  him  know." 

"  No,  no,"  answered  Chesterfield,  "  let  him 
wait.  At  present  I  would  rather  you  stayed. 
We  are  in  the  middle  of  a  curious  metaphysical 
discussion." 

u  A  metaphysical  discussion!"  ejaculated  Scar- 
borough. 

u  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Chesterfield,  "  and  upon 
a  very  intricate  subject,  too." 

"  I  should  have  supposed,"  said  the  other, 
"  that  the  election  occupied  all  your  thoughts." 

"Not  at  all,"  rejoined  my  lord;  "  the  election 
is  safe  1  tell  you,  so  now  for  ethics.  The  grand 
question  is,  whether  the  end  justifies  the  means, 
and  the  means  justify  the  end." 

ei  Why,  that  has  been  settled  long  ago,"  said 
Scarborough, — il  of  course  they  do  ;  everything  is 
fair  in  war,  love,  or  politics  ;  and  Jove  does  not 
more  certainly  laugh  at  lover's  perjuries  than  the 
country  does  at  the  perjuries  of  elections." 

Dr.  Young  fell  into  hysterics  of  delight  at 
this  sally.  I  really  thought  he  would  have  fallen 
off  his  chair.  A  parson  laughing  at  a  great 
man's  joke  is  a  spectacle. 


216  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

"Pooh,  pooh,"  said  Chesterfield,  "Jove  is 
nothing  at  all  in  these  cases.  Here  is  my  good 
friend  Dr.  ^oung,  who  proves  that  Jehovah  also 
laughs  at  them,  and  that  you  know  is  much 
better  for  us,  constituted  as  things  are  in  this 
Christian  community." 

Then  there  was  another  laugh.  Vagrant  as  I 
had  been,  and  living  among  vagabonds,  I  had 
not  been  used  to  this  species  of  blasphemous 
wit,  and  I  really  began  to  get  frightened.  For 
the  moment  I  began  to  think  I  was  in  Hell,  and 
not  on  the  earth  at  all.  The  nonchalance,  how- 
ever, of  these  two  noble  lords  encouraged  me. 
Surely  the  fires  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  would 
not  dare  to  fall  down  on  Grosvenor  Square  while 
they  were  within  its  precincts,  and  Schulenberg 
was  living  next  door.  In  such  company  I  felt 
that  I  was  safe.  Heaven  could  not  be  so  mean- 
minded  as  to  sweep  away  in  a  horrid  brimstone 
shower,  Philip,  Earl  of  Chesterfield,  and  Lumley , 
Baron  Scarborough.  As  it  turned  out,  I  was 
right  in  my  surmise.  Grosvenor  Square  still 
flourishes. 

"  And  how  did  our  reverend  friend  establish 
that?"  asked  Lord  S. 

"  By  the  plainest  proofs  from  Scripture,"  an- 
swered Chesterfield — "but  I  won't  ask  him  to 


EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU.  21? 

repeat  them,  for  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  has 
twenty  others  equally  good,  and  which  will  have 
the  additional  merit  of  novelty." 

"  My  dear  good  noble  lords,"  said  Young, 
"  you  quite  put  me  to  the  blush."  (I  looked  at 
him,  but  saw  none.)  UI  must  really  protest 
against  being  thus  unexpectedly  thrust  into  a 
discussion  on  a  subject  where  I  feel  that  my 
powers  are  feeble,  indeed,  before  two  such  great 
wits  and  accomplished  scholars  as  these  I  see 
before  me ;  I  have  no  objection  to  take  a  place 
in  the  picture,  but  if  you  please,  it  must  be  in 
the  back  ground." 

"  Oh !  shameful,"  cried  Chesterfield  ;  "call 
you  this  backing  your  friends  ?  Divinity,  like  a 
hangman,  takes  the  lead  in  all  questions  of  this 
nature,  and  we  poor  laymen  philosophers,  like 
the  victim,  follow  humbly  in  the  distance." 

"  Aye,  aye,"  said  Scarborough,  "  if  the  church 
don't  guide  us  into  the  true  way  where  else  shall 
we  find  a  lamp  ?  She  is  the  cur  dog,  and  we  the 
poor  blind  beggars  that  she  leads.  And  I  have  no 
doubt  that  our  reverend  friend  here  will  flash  such 
new  fireworks  upon  this  cloudy  subject,  that  we 
shall  both  be  a  match  henceforth  for  any  quib- 
bling rascal  who  maintains  that  nothing  can 
afford  an  excuse  for  artifice,  or  deceit,  in  the 
affairs  of  life." 

VOL.    jl  L 


218  EDWAKD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

"  There  are  such  rascals,  indeed,"  said  Rooke, 
with  a  melancholy  air,  u  but  if  I  were  absolute 
monarch,  I'd  burn  'email  at  Smithfield— or  stick 
their  silly  heads  on  Temple  Bar." 

And  as  he  spoke,  1  thought  what  a  very  ap- 
propriate administrator  of  colonial  justice  my 
friend  would  make. 

Encouraged  by  this   brace  of  great  men,  and 
the   little  dog  that   yelped  at  their    heels,  Dr. 
Young   again  launched   forth  into  a  subject  in 
which  he  was  well  calculated  to  shine.     He  told 
us  that  as  the  Jews  were  the  especial  people  of 
God,  we  must  suppose  that  everything  they  did 
was   under   the   direct   inspiration   of  the  Holy 
Gnost ;  and  that  as  what  was  once  right,  must 
always  be  so,  it  followed  naturally  that  whatever 
they  did  was  the  safe  rule  of  action  for  all  man- 
kind.   Hence  deceit  in  speech  was  not  only  right 
and  proper  in  all  matters  of  life  ;    but  it  was  in 
fact  most  truly  virtuous  and  excellent,  and  com- 
mendable, whenever  any  purpose  was  to  be  gained 
which  the  speaker  believed  to  be  good.  And  even 
if  the  purpose  were  radically  vicious,  that  made 
no  difference  in  point  of  morals,  provided    the 
deviser  of  it  had  persuaded  himself  that  it  was 
good.    Thus  assassination  was  by  some  persons  of 
rigid  scruples  regarded  as  criminal ;  persons  of 
mean  capacity,  and  narrow  understanding,  who 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       219 

had  forgotten  the  most  glorious  pages  of  Greek 
and  Roman  history,  where  the  assassin  rose  up 
refulgent  with  his  dagger  and  afforded  an  heroic 
spectacle  to  Gods  and  men.     But  these  men  had 
not  reflected  that  this  species  of  political  achieve- 
ment was  well-known  in  the  most  perfect  govern- 
ment the  world  had  yet  seen,  namely  that  of  the 
Jews,  and  was  expressly  sanctioned — as  in  the 
case  of  Judith  and  Holofernes — if  not  commanded 
by  Heaven.     Nay,  so  anxious  was  their  Deity  to 
divest  this  glorious  masterpiece  of  statesmanship 
of  any  features  of  horror  that  might  be  supposed 
to  attach  to  it,  and  to  clothe  it  with  romance, 
loveliness,  and  poetry,  that  he  in  many  cases  in- 
spired women  with  the  illustrious  design  of  free- 
ing their  people  of  a  foe  by  the  use  of  the  dagger, 
or  the  nail.     Thus  Jael,  the  wife  of  Heber  the 
Kenite,  invited  Sisera  into  her  tents  and  gave 
him  milk  to  drink,  and  covered  him,  and  when 
he  was  asleep,  *'  she  took  an  hammer  in  her  hand, 
and  weut  softly  unto  him,  and  smote  the  nail 
into  his  temples,  and  fastened  it  into  the  ground, 
for  he  was  fast  asleep   and  weary.     So  he  died." 
Therefore     did     the     Lord     inspire     Deborah 
and     Barak     to     sing     this    song,     u  Blessed 
above  women  shall  Jael,  the  wife  of  Heber  the 
Kenite  be ;  blessed  shall  she  be  above  women  in 
the  tent.     He  asked  water,  and  she  gave  him 

L  2 


220  EDWARD   WOKTLEY   MONTAGU. 

milk  ;  she  brought  forth  butter  in  a  lordly  dish. 
She  put  her  hand  to  the  nail,  and  her  right  hand 
to  the  workman's  hammer ;  and  with  her  ham- 
mer she  smote  Sisera ;  she  smote  off  his  head, 
when  she  had  pierced  and  stricken  through  his 
temple.     At  her  feet  he  bowed  ;  he  fell  ;    he  lay 
down  ;  at  her  feet  he  bowed ;  he  fell ;  where  he 
bowed,  there  he  fell  down  dead.     So  let  all  thine 
enemies  perish,  0  Lord,"  &c,  &c.     Here  in  truth 
was  the  most  powerful  and  convincing  proof  that 
the  end  justified  the  means,  for  the  pure   and 
sacred  penman  concluded  his  narrative  of  this 
majestic  stroke  of  politics,  by  significantly  add- 
ing, "And  the  land  had  rest  for  forty  years." 
None  but  vile  atheists  and  blasphemers  therefore, 
would  dare  to  question  the  legality  of  this  heaven- 
descended  maxim.     So  also  when  the  Lord  re- 
pented him  that  he   had  made  Saul   King,    he 
advised  Samuel  to  deceive  Saul  with  a  lie,    M  and 
Samuel  did  that  which  the   Lord   spake,"  and 
Saul  was  deluded,  and  David  was  anointed  mon- 
arch by  the   pious  and  Heaven-inspired  son  of 
Hannah. 


But  why  pursue  the  theme.  The  reader  may 
judge  for  himself  from  these  samples  the  kind  of 
learned  and  philosophical   discourse  which  pre- 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       221 

vailed.  The  world  has  since  had  the  inestimable 
advantage  of  perusing  Lord  Chesterfield's  private 
thoughts  on  morality,  religion,  deceitfulness  and 
dancing  ;  and  though  the  public  benefit  has  not 
perhaps  been  so  great  as  might  have  been  hoped 
for,  still  the  public  must  be  grateful  for  anything 
that  fell  from  the  mouth  or  pen  of  so  great,  so 
wise,  so  noble,  and  so  good  a  man.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  everything  that  passed  was  as  witty  and 
profound  as  that  which  the  reader  has  just  read  ; 
and  that  the  two  peers  and  the  parson  strove  to 
out-do  each  other  in  educing  prototypes  of  their 
own  purity  in  religion  and  politics  from  the 
most  noted  characters  in  sacred  or  profane  his- 
tory. My  cannibal  companion  occasionally  joined 
in,  but  the  three  were  so  deeply  interested  in  their 
speculations,  that  they  took  but  little  notice  of 
him. 

At  last  the  Bully  interrupted  them — 

u  There  is  one  matter,"  he  said,  "  which  I  had 
almost  forgotten — we  must  get  Hogden." 

"  Who  is  he  ?"  says  Lord  Chesterfield. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  Bully,  "  I  hardly  know. 
He  is  the  best  hand  at  bribery,  after  myself.  He 
has  already  been  the  means  of  disfranchising  one 
borough,  which  he  corrupted  by  giving  a  shilling 
a  piece  for  bloated  herrings,  and  the  whole  place 
was  in  a  state  of  drunkenness,  riot,  blasphemy, 


222       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

debasement,  and  debauchery  for  a  month.  This 
is  the  way  to  win  elections,  my  lord.  Since  then 
they  call  him  i  The  Bloater/  and  he  is  like  one. 
He  and  the  notorious  Ganderbill  hunt  in  couples  ; 
but  Ganderbill  is  now  in  difficulties,  and  we  can't 
get  him,  so  we  must  content  ourselves  with  Hog- 
deu.  All  that  humbug  can  do,  he  will  do ;  his 
motto  is,  'Go  in  and  win,  cost  what  it  may;5 
and  he  trusts  to  the  chapter  of  accidents  to  secure 
what  he  has  won." 

"  We  must  certainly  have  Am,"  says  Scar- 
borough. 

And  so  it  was  agreed.  We  found  him  at  a 
pot-house,  on  our  way  down — a  short,  fat,  vulgar 
fellow,  with  a  gold  chain;  very  greasy,  and 
smelling  nastily,  like  an  unsound  codfish.  I  took 
care  that  he  never  came  between  me  and  the 
wind.  He  was  the  exact  realization  of  Dryden's 
picture  of  the  bookseller,  Jacob  Tonson — 

11  With  leering  look,  bull-faced,  and  codlike  stare, 
With  two  left-legs,  and  Judas-coloured  hair, 
And  frowzy  pores  that  taint  the  ambient  air." 

But  he  was  a  grand  chap  for  all  that.  And  the 
beauty  of  his  tactics  was  this :  he  made  it  a 
habit  to  go  about  everywhere,  and  say  that  he 
abhorred  bribery;  and  that  if  a  shilling  cor- 
ruptly spent  could  return  his  man  to  parliament, 
he  would  not  give  it.     As  soon  as  he  had  been  at 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  223 

this  talk  for  ^ye  minutes,  he  thrust  a  handfull  of 

gold  into   the  pocket  of  the  voter,  and  with  a 

wink  and  his  blessing  departed  to  play  the  same 

game  with  the  next.     This  trick  he  learned  from 

our   House   of  Commons   itself,    which    always 

preaches  against  corruption  ;    while,  tall  bully  as 

it  is,  it  never  fails   to  protect   every  scoundrel 

briber  it  can  ;  and  if  a  fellow  like  Hogden  could 

by  any  trick  become  one  of  its  members,  it  would 

support  him  even  though  a  thousand  committees, 

or    commissioners,  reported  him  guilty    of  the 

crime,  which  all  its  hypocritical  members  pretend 

to  look  at  with  horror. 

But  did  they  not  expel  Walpole  ?  asks  some 
amazed  reader,  for  an  offence  of  the  same  kind. 
They  did,  my  dear  friend ;  but  the  parliament  of 
Queen  Anne  was  honesty  itself  compared  to  the 
rogues  that  now  constitute  the  lower  house, 
though  it  did  not  profess  half  so  much. 

"  Could  I  from  the  building's  top 
Hear  the  rattling  thunder  drop, 
While  the  devil  upon  the  roof 
(If  the   devil  be  thunder  proof) 
Should,  with  poker  fiery  red, 
Crack  the  stones  and  melt  the  lead  ; 
Drive  them  down  on  every  scull, 
When  the  den  of  thieves  is  full ; 
Quite  destroy  the  Harpie's  nest — 
How  might  then  our  isle  be  blest," 

After  a  long  interview  Bully  and  I  rose  to  take 


224  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

our  leave.  As  we  did  so,  Lord  Chesterfield  handed 
to  Rooke  a  leathern  bag. 

"  Mr.  Rooke,"  said  he,  il  this  bag  contains  two 
thousand  guineas :  there  will  be  two  thousand 
more  ready  before  the  end  of  the  week.  The 
number  of  electors  I  think  is  four  hundred  ;  we 
must  have  at  least  three  hundred  on  our  side. 
You  may  corrupt  the  men,  seduce  their  wives, 
debauch  their  sisters,  and  promise  to  marry  their 
daughters  ;  if  no  other  means  succeed,  empty 
the  jails  of  imprisoned  voters,  and  fill  the  jails 
with  such  as  are  in  debt ;  distribute  '  sugar '  as 
lavishly  as  may  be  ;  in  a  word,  stick  at  nothing, 
so  that  our  man  wins.  Let  this  be  your  morning 
prayer  and  midnight  orison — this  election  must  be 
gained  at  all  hazards.     Now  give  me  a  receipt." 

The  Cannibal,  who  was  a  wag  in  his  way,  re- 
ceived the  bag,  and  handed  Lord  Chesterfield  the 
following  memorandum : — 

"  Grosvenor  Square. 

u  Received  from  the  Rt.  Hon.  Lord  Chester- 
field the  sum  of  two  thousand  guineas,  to  be  ex- 
pended in  the  purchase  of  three  hundred  English 
souls  ;  and  to  be  repaid  with  interest  on  the  1 
of  Judgment. 

"  Bully  Rooke, 
"  Chief  Chaplain  to  the  Devil " 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  225 

His  lordship  read  the  document,  and  smiled. 
Turning  with  his  most  fascinating  grin  to  Dr. 
Young,  he  said — 

"  My  dear  doctor,  I  perceive  that  Mr.  Rooke 
calls  himself  your  chaplain — but  the  title  is  pre- 
mature, for  you  are  not  yet  an  Archbishop,  though 
quite  ripe  enough  for  any  mitre  ;"  upon  which  he 
bowed  us  out. 


L  5 


226  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


"  Israel  hath  not  obtained  that  which  he  seeketh  for,  but  the 

election  hath  obtained  it,  and  the  rest  were  blinded 

And  David  saith,  Let  their  table  be  made  a  snare  and  a  trap,  and 
a  stumbling-block,  and  a  recompense  unto  them." 


Animated  by  the  sublime  and  noble  sentiments 
which  we  had  the  advantage  of  thus  hearing 
from  this  inimitable  ornament  of  the  peerage,  we 
took  our  leave  and  proceeded  to  Fetter  Lane, 
from  which  we  took  coach  to  Bilgewater.  The 
Cannibal  was  in  high  glee ;  his  cock  eye  gleamed 
with  a  cat-like  lustre  ;  he  put  his  hand  repeatedly 
on  the  pocket  which  contained  my  lord's  golden 
prescription,  and,  as  he  felt  it  safe  and  sound,  a 
gratified  smile  crept  over  his  rugged  features,  as 
I    have   seen     the    torch-light    play   upon    the 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.      227 

boulders  of  the  sea  beach.  At  the  end  of  the 
first  stage  we  took  up  Shaveley  Bill,  a  tall, 
awkward-looking  customer,  with  tow-coloured 
whiskers,  mean,  cowardly,  malignant  features, 
and  an  eye  full  of  malevolence,  cunning,  and  envy, 
badly  concealed  by  an  affectation  of  bluff  honesty 
which  deceived  many,  but  could  not  blind  me. 
This  genius  was  at  present  rather  under  a  cloud  ; 
he  had  shortly  before  seduced  an  unfortuuate 
wretch  of  a  barber's  daughter,  and  taken  her  to 
live  with  him  in  a  garret  in  the  Temple  ;  remorse 
preyed  upon  her,  and  within  ten  days  of  her  ruin 
she  poisoned  herself,  or  was  poisoned  by  him — 
Heaven  knows  which.  I  suppose  he  was  glad  to 
be  rid  of  her.  An  inquest  was  held  on  her  dead 
body.  The  jury  got  five  pounds  a  piece,  and  the 
coroner  fifty,  so  they  brought  in  a  verdict  of  death 
from  natural  causes.  Shaveley's  father,  who  was 
a  banker's  clerk,  supplied  the  money ;  but  swore 
that  Shaveley  himself  should  never  enter  his 
presence  till  he  had  repaid  it.  Hence  his  present 
expedition,  for  Rooke  and  he  had  been  old  pals, 
and  the  former  put  the  present  job  in  his  way. 
The  two  interchanged  some  hieratic  signals  which 
I  could  not  understand,  and  held  a  private  con- 
versation, apparently  on  matters  too  delicate  for 
the  public  ear,  but  I  did  not  much  heed  what  they 
were  about,  having  fallen  into  a  reverie  of  thought 


228  EDWARD    W0RTLEY   MONTAGU. 

on  the  scene  which  I  had  just  witnessed.  Here 
were  two  men  of  patrician  birth,  with  large  for- 
tunes, good  health,  and  sound  brains,  and  all 
that  could  make  life  pleasant,  hereditary  legisla- 
tors in  our  happy  land  ;  yet  they  were  so 
thoroughly  impregnated  with  baseness,  villainy, 
and  corruption,  as  to  be  wholly  insensible  to  any 
truth,  any  virtue,  any  excellence,  and  to  live  only 
for  the  gratification  of  vile  and  selfish  desires, 
which  they  were  not  ashamed,  but  indeed  gloried 
to  avow.  What  wonder  could  it  be  if  Savage  and 
fellows  of  that  class,  who  had  never  known  what 
it  was  to  possess  a  ten  pound  note  that  they  could 
fairly  call  their  own,  were  so  low  and  lost  when 
men  of  this  high  rank  were  utterly  dead  to  all 
decency  ?  I  have  seen  young  fellows  of  eighteen 
or  twenty,  young  women,  with  babies  at  their 
breasts,  hanged  week  after  week  at  Tyburn  who 
had  stolen  only  a  few  shillings,  or  a  few  yards  of 
ribbon ;  who  had  probably  been  guilty,  at  the 
worst,  of  only  mere  recklessness,  the  result  of 
tipsy  jollity,  or  boyish  folly,  or  thoughtless  indis- 
cretion, and  who  had  generous  hearts,  courage, 
faith,  and  truth  in  all  ordinary  matters,  while 
the  ribald  mob  rejoiced  to  see  them  die,  and  my 
lords  the  king's  judges,  those  scarlet-coloured 
beasts,  as  an  old  Quaker  once  called  them,  pro- 
nounced their  sentences  to    be  right  and  well- 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  229 

merited,  as  they  adjourned  to  the  corporation 
turtle  soup  and  punch  up-stairs  at  the  Old  Bailey. 
But  here  were  two  whom  the  world  impudently 
called  noblemen,  and  the  law  shamelessly  pro- 
nounced right  honourable,  yet  who  in  all  respects 
— but  an  open  violation  of  the  statutes  of  their 
country — were  as  consummate  scoundrels  as  ever 
swung  upon  the  gallows  tree.  Here  they  were 
luxuriating  like  pigs  in  their  filthiness,  uncon- 
scious of  their  degradation,  and  half  worshipped 
by  admiring  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands  of  per- 
sons, who  thought  themselves  clever,  and  candid, 
and  discriminating.  And  when  I  looked  up  and 
saw  my  two  ugly  companions  engaged  in  carrying 
out  the  same  kind  of  manoeuvres  as  those  in  which 
these  eminent  personages  were  plotting,  I  began  to 
despise  and  loathe  myself  for  being  involved  in 
such  foul  proceedings ;  and  was  half  inclined  to 
jump  off  the  coach,  and  walk  back  to  London  as 
poor  as  I  left  it ;  but  I  was  almost  starving,  and 
I  had  not  bravery  enough — poor  wretch  that  I 
was — to  resist  the  fiend ;  so  I  stayed  on.  A  base 
excuse,  1  own,  but  it  is  the  true  one. 

We  were  now,  indeed,  engaged  on  one  of  the 
most  rascally  errands  that  can  be  imagined  ;  we 
were  about  to  corrupt  the  electors  of  an  important 
borough,  to  vote  black  white,  and  white  black ; 
and  by  returning  to  parliament  not  the  man  best 


230  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

suited  to  make  laws  for  this  imperial  isle,  or  to 
advise  on  state  policy,  but  tbe  most  dirty,  low,  or 
piggish  knave  who  bribed  them  best,  we  were 
about  to  poison  law  and  right  at  their  very 
foundations ;  and  introduce  discord,  dishonesty, 
and  the  certain  seeds  of  dissolution  to  the  whole 
empire.  For  as  the  franchise  is  a  trust  reposed 
in  one  man  by  several,  and  as  upon  the  votes  of 
a  very  few  people  the  administration  of  the  whole 
land  depends,  it  follows  that  there  is  no  respon- 
sibility on  earth  greater  than  that  which  thus 
enables  a  man  to  send  a  representative  to  the 
House  of  Commons  ;  for  the  casting  vote  of  that 
very  representative  may  inOuence  our  destinies 
for  ever ;  as,  in  fact,  it  did  in  the  Habeas  Corpus 
Act  when  passing  through  the  House ;  it  may 
plunge  us  into  a  war  that  will  entail  ruin.  It  may 
involve  us  in  a  dispute  with  powerful  neighbours 
or  aspiring  colonies  that  will  involve  the  lives  of 
thousands  of  men,  the  happiness  of  babes  and 
mothers,  and  wives  and  sisters ;  the  destinies  of 
unborn  millions,  and  the  destruction  of  blood  and 
treasure  to  an  incalculable  amount.  And  our 
late  war  with  Spain,  and  our  present  contests 
with  the  colonies  in  America,  area  striking  proof 
of  what  I  have  said  ;  for  they  include  within  them 
as  much  sanguinary  wickedness  as  ever  was  per- 
petrated on  earth  ;  but  they  have  got  the  sanction 


EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU.  231 

of  Parliament,  and  all  is  therefore  as   correct  as 
possible. 

We  got  to  Bilgewater  late  in  the  evening.  We 
found  that  Hogden  was  well  known  there,  he  and 
Ganderbill  having  operated  largely  at  the  last 
election  :  both  had  been  reported  to  the  House 
for  corruption  and  mal-practice ;  but  the  House 
thought  it  was  a  joke,  laughed,  said  a  few  words 
to  humbug  the  lieges,  and  went  to  something 
else,  which  also  ended  in  a  bottle  of  smoke.  This 
is  what  always  happens.  The  Red  Lion,  which 
was  the  head  hotel,  had  been  engaged  for  us 
beforehand,  and  we  were  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  the  Hon.  Thomas  Vere  Cavendish 
Plantagenet,  eldest  son  and  heir  of  Lord  Rollo  de 
Bayeux,  and  at  the  present  moment  one  of  the 
aspiring  candidates  in  whose  interests  we  were 
engaged.  The  Hon.  Thomas  was  a  small,  mean- 
looking  wretch,  with  a  little  head,  a  receding 
brow,  the  eyes  and  face  of  a  polecat,  and  a  soul 
and  a  mind  to  correspond  ;  but  his  noble  father 
had  thirty  thousand  a  year,  and  was  a  keeper  of  a 
privy  something  in  the  royal  household,  which  as 
it  was  a  post  which  nobody  but  a  footman  or  a 
scavenger  ought  to  occupy,  was  bitterly  contested 
for  by  a  score  of  illustrious  families  who  traced 
their  pedigree  up  to  William  the  Conqueror,  and 
who  were  accordingly  the  proudest  people  in  the 


232  EDWARD    WOTTLF.Y    MONTAGU". 

whole  world.  The  right  honourable  Lord  Rollo 
de  Bayeux  carried  gold  candlesticks  for  his  Majesty 
King  George  the  Second,  walking  all  the  while 
backward,  but  with  his  face  turned  to  that 
glorious  monarch  ;  he  brought  him  waste  paper, 
fetched  his  tobacco,  carried  billets  of  sweetness  to 
his  mistresses,  or  those  whom  he  wanted  to  be  so, 
and  submitted  to  be  kicked  by  the  royal  foot,  and 
damned  by  the  royal  tongue  when  his  Majesty 
was  dyspeptic,  or  was  out  of  temper  with  one  of 
his  German  frows.  For  this  dignified  employ- 
ment he  drew  about  twelve  hundred  a  year  wages, 
and  had  the  privilege  of  basking  in  the  celestial 
sunshine  of  the  court — which  like  certain  other 
sunshine  that  falls  upon  a  rotten  pool,  or  a 
stinking  dunghill,  only  fosters  worms  and  grubs, 
and  centipedes,  and  a  hundred  other  crawling, 
slimy  things,  which  we  cannot  bear  to  think  of, 
and  certainly  should  not  like  to  see.  But  the 
crawling,  slimy  things  admire  themselves  very 
much ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  despise  all  other 
animals  that  do  not  creep  and  wriggle  like  them- 
selves through  dirt  and  rotteness. 

The  opponent  of  the  honourable  Thomas  was 
worthy  of  the  town  which  he  came  to  represent, 
and  the  honest  people  whom  he  proposed  to  buy. 
He  was  a  dirty  broker  from  the  city  of  London, 
of  the  name  of  Johnson,  who  had  heaped  up  gold 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  233 

by  every  fraudulent  art  known  to  commerce,  and 
who  would  have  sold  himself  to  the  Devil  readily 
for  any  sum  of  money  which  that  potentate  would 
give.  People  talk  of  Jews  !  Why  I  have  never 
yet  known  a  Jew  whom  I  would  not  rather  deal 
with  than  most  of  the  Christians  with  whom  I 
have  had  the  pleasure  of  transacting  business. 
This  fellow  had  sprung  from  nothing,  but  was 
now  worth  about  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  ; 
and  as  the  people  all  about  him  worshipped 
wealth,  much  more  than  ever  a  bishop  worshipped 
God,  the  little  villain  believed  that  gold  was  the 
summum  bonum  of  everything,  and  accordingly 
concluded  that  he  himself,  as  the  possessor  of  this 
summum  bonum,  was  the  greatest  man  in  the 
world.  And  now  having  exhausted  almost  all 
the  knavish  arts  known  on  the  Exchange  for 
transferring  money  from  the  pockets  of  A  into  the 
bank  of  B,  he  resolved  to  get  into  Parliament, 
where  he  hoped  to  buy  a  baronetcy,  and  to  shine 
at  court,  or  at  the  levee  of  the  great  Sir  Robert, 
whom  all  these  monied  men  adored  as  the  imper- 
sonation of  everything  that  was  exalted  upon 
earth.  He  longed,  also,  to  transmit  hereditary 
honours  to  an  only  son,  a  spindle  shanks  noodle, 
with  no  more  brains  than  a  whelk,  who  spent  all 
his  time  at  the  cockpit,  and  whom  this  worthy 
trader  regarded  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.     With 


234  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

these  grand  hopes  he  came  down  to  the  borough, 
and  made  no  secret  of  his  intention  to  buy  as 
many  votes  as  money  could  purchase,  and  by  hook 
or  by  crook  to  wrest  the  representation  from  the 
son  and  heir  of  Lord  Rollo  de  Bayeux,  whose 
castle  was  in  the  county,  and  whose  family  had 
usually  commanded  the  consciences  of  the  lick- 
spittle constituency  whom  we  came  to  canvass. 
He  had  already  set  half  the  public  houses  flowing, 
and  opened  an  unlimited  credit  at  the  Bank,  but 
as  he  was  new  to  the  noble  art  of  electioneering 
bribery,  it  was  calculated,  and  not  unwisely,  that 
an  experienced  hand  would  eventually  drive  him 
out  of  the  field.  A  third  caudidate  had,  indeed, 
shewn  himself,  but  he  was  only  a  great  scholar,  a 
most  wise  and  honourable  person,  who  had  no 
landed  estate,  nor  any  considerable  balance  at  his 
bankers.  He  could  offer  nothing  to  the  con- 
stituents but  unimpeachable  integrity,  the  purest 
and  most  elevated  views  of  politics,  united,  how- 
ever, with  a  practical  statesmanship,  that  had 
merit  its  due,  would  have  raised  him  to  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  government.  But  when  it 
was  clearly  ascertained  that  he  had  no  money  to 
lavish  in  purchasing  the  pigs  of  electors,  he  was 
hooted  out  of  the  place  as  one  of  the  most  rascally 
and  shallow  impostors  that  had  ever  dared  to 
practice  on  an  enlightened  constituency.     Indeed, 


EDWARD  W0RTLEY   MONTAGU.  235 

his  advent  was  looked  upon  as  a  crime,  and  himself 
a  violator  of  everything  human  and  divine  for 
coming  into  Bilgewater  without  bags  full  of  gold 
and  a  brain  full  of  fraud.  So  that  the  contest 
was  now  confined  to  the  two  honourable  and 
worthy  gentlemen  whom  I  have  described,  namely, 
Plantagenet  and  Johnson. 

The  honourable  Thomas,  &c,  &c,  &c.  (I  can't 
write  so  many  grand  names)  was  alone,  and  was 
reclining  on  a  sofa.  A  table  was  before  him, 
covered  with  fruit  and  various  wines  ;  and  the 
honourable  gentleman,  if  we  may  judge  by  his 
flushed  features  and  staring  eyes,  had  tasted 
rather  freely  of  the  latter.  c<  He  is  slightly 
inebriated,"  whispered  the  Cannibal,  when  he  saw 
him,  and  '  slightly  inebriated"  let  it  be.  In  a 
meaner  man,  or  in  the  candidate  who  had  been 
hissed  out  of  the  place,  it  would  be,  he  is  u  three 
parts  drunk."  He  attempted  to  rise,  but  the 
effort  was  too  much  for  him,  and  he  merely 
put  out  one  finger  to  the  Cannibal,  and  said, 
"  How  do,  Cannibal,  how  do  ?°  at  which  gracious 
mark  of  friendly  condescension  the  recipient  of 
the  finger  and  haveley  Bill  expressed  their 
gratitude  by  genuflexions  and  prostrations  worthy 
of  a  Dutch  ambassador  at  Japan,  or  an  English 
Catholic  peer  when  he  has  the  supreme  honour  of 
kissing  the  Pope's  toe.     As  I  was  merely  one  of 


236       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

the  obscure  rabble,  I  had  not  the  superlative 
happiness  of  being  introduced  to  the  heir  of  Lord 
Eollo  de  Bayeux  ;  so  after  staring  at  me  for  some 
time,  he  said  to  my  companion,  whom  he  appeared 
to  know  well,  and  treated  with  the  most  delicate 
politeness — 

"  Cannibal,  who  the  devil  is  this?" 

"  One  of  our  agents,  sir,"  answered  the  party 
addressed  ;  and  then  he  spoke  lower,  and  in  a 
tone  which  I  could  not  hear  if  I  wished,  and 
would  not  have  bothered  myself  by  hearing  if  I 
could.  When  he  had  ceased  our  host  motioned 
me  to  take  a  chair,  and  rang  for  fresh  glasses  which 
soon  were  brought,  after  which  the  business  of 
of  the  night  began. 

"May  I  ask  sir,  is  your  address  out?"  asked 
Rooke. 

"  No,"  replied  the  other;  "  not  at  all,  1  did'nt 
know  what  to  say  to  the  d — d  fools,"  at  which 
lively  burst  of  wit,  Shaveley  Bill  burst  into  a  large 
guffaw  of  laughter  in  which  the  Cannibal,  and  the 
writer  of  this  memoir  (with  shame  I  confess  it) 
very  quickly  joined. 

"  May  I  ask  then,  sir,  how  you  have  employed 
yourself  since  you  came?"  asked  Rooke  with  the 
most  submissive  politeness. 

"  Look  !"  answered  the  other,  and  he  pointed 
to  the  fireplace,  on  which  a  scene  presented  itself 


EDWARD  WORTLEf  MONTAGU.       237 

that  would  have  gratified  the  worthy  and  inde- 
pendent electors  of  the  town,  had  they  but  had 
the  high  privilege  of  being  introduced  as  we 
were  into  this  respectable  presence.  For  there 
were  about  sixty  rats,  all  dead  and  tied  together 
by  the  tails,  which  formed  a  graceful  festoon  over 
the  mantelpiece,  and  hung  down  to  the  floor  at 
each  side,  like  the  flowing  ends  of  a  curtain,  the 
carpet  being  spotted  with  the  blood  which  dropped 
from  the  pretty  creatures. 

"God  God!"  sir,  exclaimed  the  Cannibal, 
"  what  a  sight,"  and  he  began  to  count  the 
victims. 

Shaveley  Bill  rubbed  his  hands,  horse-laughed, 
and  said — 
"How  jolly." 

"Aye!  by  the  everlasting  Gad,"  says  the 
candidate,  "  may  I  be  d — d  if  ever  I  had  better 
fun  in  my  life — it  beats  fox  hunting,  which  after 
this  day's  sport  I  vote  low  and  vulgar  in  the 
extreme.  By  Gad  !  Cannibal,  you  shall  see  my 
dog.  By  Gad !  he  is  the  prettiest  dog  in  the 
world  ;  by  Gad ;  you  shall  kiss  him  for  the  fun 
he  has  given  me  to-day,"  and  reaching  a  bell 
rope,  he  tugged  at  it  until  it  gave  way  and  a 
frightened  servant  came  into  the  room. 

"  Is  that  you,  Fitz  Howard  ?"  asked   our  host, 


238  EDWABD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

"  damme  yes — I  see   'tis  you;  fetch   Billy  here, 
and  be  d — d  quick." 

Fitz  Howard  vanished  and  soon  after  appeared 
with  Billy.  It  was  the  renowned  terrier  which 
had  given  the  honourable  Mr.  Plantagenet  such 
rare  pleasure,  and  the  dog  was  certainly  worthy  of 
its  master.  Let  us  hope  that  in  other  and  more 
spiritual  regions,  "  His  faithful  dog  shall  bear 
him  company." 

"  There  are  sixty  rats  in  all,"  said  the  candidate, 
observing   that   the    Cannibal    was    engaged  in 
counting  the  heads  of  game — a  only  sixty — the 
infernal  rascal  of  a  ratcatcher  could  get  no  more. 
I  paid  him  a  shilling  a  piece  for  them.     Damme, 
he  should  have  had  a  five  pound  note  if  he  bad 
got   me   the  hundred.     But   after  scouring   the 
whole  place  he  could   hunt   up   no  more.     So  I 
laid  a  wager  with  the  parson  —damme  you  know 
him — Tom  Fireaway — he  and  I  were  at  College 
together — a  great  scamp  he  was  too.     My  father 
gave  him  the  living ;  faith  I   sometimes  think 
he's   my    father's   own  son  by  Molly    Segrave ; 
damme,  he  bet   me   twenty  guineas    that  Billy 
wouldn't  kill  the  fellows   in  five  minutes,  and   I 
took  him,  and  we   staked   the    money   with  the 
landlord.     Then  we  housed  the  rats    in  here  five 
minutes  before  dinner,  and  in  four  minutes  and 


EDWARD    WOKTLEY   MONTAGU.  239 

forty  seconds,  by  Gad !  they  were  all  squashed. 
What  a  scene  it  was — by  Gad  !  it  was  splendid — 
by  the  Lord  Harry  I  never  had  such  cursed  fun 
before.  For  we  stopped  up  all  the  holes  and 
corners  and  windows,  and  the  fire  place,  and  then 
the  rats  were  let  loose  and  Billy  after  them, 
while  Tom  and  I  got  a  d — d  table,  and  damme 
the  squeaking  was  fine.  They  scudded  in  all 
directions ;  they  ran  pell  mell  about  and  up  and 
down,  like  so  many  hunted  devils.  By  Gad  ! 
Cannibal  you  would  have  liked  the  sport — so  we 
killed  'em  all,  and  landlord  and  I  fastened  'em 
together,  and  then  Tom  and  myself  sat  down  to 
dinner,  and  by  Gad  !  I  had  a  plate  and  chair 
brought  up  for  Billy  too,  and  now  Tom  is  gone 
away  to  evening  service,  and  by  Gad  !  Cannibal, 
you  shall  kiss  Billy,  for  he  has  won  me  twenty 
guineas" — and  he  absolutely  pressed  Rooke  to  it, 
until  the  fellow  consented  and  kissed  the  terrier 
with  every  demonstration  of  satisfaction.  And 
Shaveley  Bill,  scorning  to  be  outdone  in  anything, 
performed  the  like  feat,  ejaculating  as  he  did  so, 
"  how  jolly." 

Mr.  Plantaganet  looked  next  at  me,  but  I 
would  not  take  the  hint. 

"  Damme,"  says  he  in  a  half  whisper  to 
the  Cannibal,  "your  friend  seems  an  infernal 
ass — don't    he?"    and    he    disdained     to    take 


240  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

any  further  notice  of  me  for  the  rest  of  the 
evening. 

And  now  pens,  ink,  and  paper  were  called  for, 
and  Rooke  and  Bill  sitting  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  table,  began  to  put  down  various  hints  and 
sentences,  and  after  about  an  hour's  work,  in 
which  they  occasionally  consulted  me  (the 
honourable  candidate  was  fast  asleep  during  the 
whole  period),  the  following  address  was  pro- 
duced, and  when  it  was  fairly  copied,  Rooke 
hummed  loudly,  which  waked  up  Mr.  Plantaganet, 
who  said — 

"  Damme,  why  did  you  wake  me  ?  I  was  hav- 
ing a  damned  pleasant  snooze." 

Note  here,  dear  reader,  that  in  the  course  of  a 
very  long  experience  I  have  never  yet  known  a 
true  gentleman  curse  and  swear,  as  some  of  my 
honourable  comrogues  have  done. 

"  Sir,"  answered  Rooke,  "  we  have  concocted 
an  address  to  the  electors,  and  we  wish  to  know 
if  it  will  meet  your  pleasure.  Will  you  be  good 
enough  to  hear  it,  sir  ?" 

utli,"  replied  the  other,  "you  needn't  have 
done  that,  you  know  I'll  sign  anything ;  the 
whole  thing  is  humbug,  isn't  it  ?"  And  he 
winked  very  knowingly  and  began  to  whistle 
"  The  Rogue's  March,"  in  which  these  two 
worthy  scribes  at  once  joined. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       241 

"  Humbug,  indeed,"  said  all  three,  and  then 
they  laughed,  and  then  my  friend  and  guide  read 
aloud  as  follows : 

"  To  the    Worthy   and   Independent    Electors   of 
the  Ancient  Borough  of  Bilgewater. 

66  Gentlemen, 

"  The  vacancy  in  your  important  town, 
caused  by  the  melancholy  demise  of  your  lat6 
respected  representative,  entails  upon  you  the 
honourable  duty  of  returning  to  Parliament  a 
successor  worthy  of  your  confidence,  and  of  the 
great  agricultural  and  commercial  interests  con- 
nected with  the  locality." 

"  That  is  all  fudge,"  says  our  host,  putting 
his  finger  to  his  nose,  "  but  it  reads  d — d  fine." 

"  Fudge  indeed,"  rejoined  Rooke,  "for  we 
know  how  the  late  member  sold  them  whenever 
he  could." 

u  And  why  the  blazes  shouldn't  he,"  says 
Plantagenet,  "  when  we  know  he  bought  them  ? 
Can't  I  do  what  I  like  with  my  own  ?  If  I  buy 
a  voter,  can't  I  sell  him?" 

"  Bravo,  bravo,"  cried  out  Shaveley  Bill ;  a  re- 
mark at  which  Billy  barked  in  unison  with  his 
fellow  dog.     The  Cannibal  resumed  reading. 

"Never  was  there  a  period  in  the  history  of 
vol.  iT.  M 


242  EDWARD   WORT  LEY   MONTAGU. 

this  great  country,  when  it  more  behoved  the 
worthy  and  independent  men  whom  I  have  the 
high  honour  to  address,  to  exercise  their  electoral 
functions  with  greater  calmness,  honesty,  and 
discrimination.  The  eyes  of  all  England  are  upon 
you ;  the  whole  empire  watches  the  approaching 
contest  with  the  most  anxious  eagerness  as  to  its 
result;  and  you  will  be  either  crowned  with 
glory  by  returning  me  as  your  representative,  or 
politically  annihilated  by  selecting  the  gentleman 
who  I  understand  means  to  contest  with  me  the 
distinguished  post  of  your  representative." 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  muttered  Plan- 
tagenet,  who  was  again  getting  sleepy,  and  the 
little  beast  began  to  snore  on  the  sofa. 

"The  present  is  indeed  a  momeutous  crisis. 
Who  can  doubt  that  men  like  you — " 

"  And  women,"  suggested  our  host,  half 
waking.  But  Rooke  paid  no  attention  to  the 
proposed  amendment. 

"  Who  can  doubt  that  men  like  you  will  prove 
yourselves  worthy  of  it,  and  of  their  country. 
The  enemies  of  order — " 

"  Who  are  they?"  asked  Plantageuet,  startled 
at  the  louder  key  in  which  Rooke  read  this  para- 
graph. 


EDWABD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       243 

u  All  humbug,"  said  Rooke,  in  answer,  u  hum- 
bug— humbug,"  and  he  read  on  : — 

u  The  enemies  of  order,  conspiring  against  our 
beautiful  and  perfect  constitution  in  Church  and 
State,  seek  gradually  to  undermine  the  founda- 
tions of  the  splendid  fabric  which  has  been  reared 
by  the  wisdom  of  our  ancestors,  and  has  outlived 
a  thousand  years,  the  envy  and  admiration  of  the 
whole  civilized  world.  Against  these  enemies 
you  may  reckon  on  me  as  your  most  determined 
champion.  Return  me  to  Parliament,  and  I  will 
oppose  them  with  all  the  energies  I  possess." 

"  Bravo !  "  shouted  the  candidate ;  "  it's  d— d 
fine." 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  it,"  said  Rooke,  with  a 
self-satisfied  smile,  "  but  I'm  used  to  this  kind 
of  thing."  Shaveley  Bill  drank  off  a  tumbler  of 
port,  and  said  "how  jolly,"  but  whether  he 
alluded  to  the  wine,  or  to  the  address,  remains 
unexplained. 

The  Cannibal  resumed — 

"  Few  boroughs  in  this  country  have  been  more 
eminently  adorned  with  members  of  the  British 
senate,  or  have  been  more  devotedly  served  by  a 
long  line  of  celebrated  men.  Nor  is  this  owing 
to  chance  alone,  but  to  the  independence,  honour, 
and  enlightenment  of  your  incorruptible  electors . 

m  2 


244  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

The  late  statistical  returns  which  have  been  laid 
before  the  House  of  Commons,  by  his  Majesty's 
command,  shew,  that  while  in  all  other  boroughs 
in  England  the  average  amount  of  persons  who 
can  read  and  write  is  not  quite  a  half- quarter  per 
cent,  among  you,  I  am  delighted  to  say  it  is  as 
much  as  seventy  three  and  the  three  ninths,  thus 
affording  the  clearest  demonstration  of  your 
superiority  above  other  places  that  possess  the 
franchise,  and  unfortunately  use  it  only  to  abuse 
it — a  thing  which  you  have  never  done." 

"  Well  I'm  damned!"  interposed  our  host, 
but  he  added,  thoughtfully,  u  I  say,  Cannibal , 
isn't  that  rather  6trong  ?  I  never  heard  of  such 
statistics,  and  even  if  I  had,  I  shouldn't  believe 
'em.     Where  are  they  ?" 

"  No  where,"  answered  Rooke,  in  the  coolest 
possible  manner. 

"  No  where  ! '  ejaculated  Plantagenet,  with 
open  eyes. 

u  Of  course  not,"  added  Shaveley  Bill,  "  the 
whole  thing  is  a  lie  ;  everything  in  politics  is  a 
lie.     You  didn't  believe  it,  sir,  did  you  ?" 

"  But  we  shall  be  found  out,  you  artful  boy." 

"Who'll  find  us?" 

u  The  enemy — the  opposite  candidate." 

u  What !  and  by  telling  the  worthy  electors  that 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  245 

it  is  all  moonshine,  awaken  their  self  love  against 
himself,  enable  us  to  denounce  him  as  a  libeller 
and  villainous  slanderer,  and  probably  secure 
his  being  tossed  in  a  blanket  for  daring  to 
question  what  the  asses'  own  vanity  will  make 
them  swallow  down  like  new  milk  ?" 

"  By  Gad !  "  ejaculated  our  patrician  friend, 
u  you're  a  precious  pair,  and  I  think  the  thing 
will  do  devilish  well,  so  read  on,  by  Gad  !" 

The  Cannibal  continued — 

"  With  these  principles — " 

"  Stop — stop !"  said  the  host,  u  I  have  heard  of 
no  principles  or  pledges  yet.  Have  you  not 
missed  some  portion  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Rooke,  u  there  are  no 
principles.  Would  you  have  us  pledge  you  to 
anything  ?  Principles  indeed  !  I  thought  you 
had  none,  sir." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  the  other,  "  of  course 
not,  my  dear  boy  ;  I  see,  you're  quite  right ;  I  see, 
I  see." 

iC  Principles  be  damned,"  said  Shaveley  Bill ; 
and  the  Cannibal  laughed,  and  read  on. 

u  With  these  principles  animating  my  public 
conduct,  I  ask  you  to  return  me  to  the  Commons 
House  of  Parliament.  Descended  from  a  long  line 


246  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

of  ancestors,  whose  names  figure  in  the  brightest 
pages  of  England's  history,  you  may  be  6ure  I 
shall  do  nothing  to  disgrace  them." — The  Cannibal 
here  winked  at  both  of  us,  and  made  a  sly  gesture 
towards  the  dead  rats ;  but  Mr.  Plantagenet  did 
not  notice  it. — "  I  will  devote  myself  night  and 
day  with  an  unselfish  zeal  to  the  promotion  of 
your  public  and  your  private  interests  with  a  fear- 
lessness of  the  court,  and  a  freedom  from  popular 
interference  that  will,  I  hope,  add  to  my  influence 
as  your  representative.  I  shall  be  guided  by  the 
principles  of  glorious  John  Hampden,  and 
actuated  by  the  policy  of  our  present  Heaven- 
born  minister,  who,  I  believe,  under  Heaven  and 
the  king,  is  the  best  friend  of  liberty  that  England 
has.  My  efforts  shall  be  directed  to  make  our 
country  the  standard  of  wealth,  freedom,  and  en- 
lightenment, and  to  promote  in  all  possible  ways 
the  best  and  truest  interests  of  my  constituents. 

u  I  have  the  honour  to  be, 

"  Gentlemen, 

"  With  the  most  devoted  sincerity, 

"  Your  truly  faithful  Servant, 

"  T.  Vere  Cavendish  Plantagenet. 

'•  Bayeux  Castle.'''' 

Rooke  laid   down   the   paper,  and  burst   out 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  .     24  7 

laughing.  His  example  was  contagious.  We 
all  indulged  in  a  hearty  explosion  of  mirth  at  the 
nonsense  that  had  been  read.  Shaveley,  as 
.  usual,  howled  out  ei  how  jolly !"  I  have  read 
plenty  of  such  things  since,  and  when  I  do  I  al- 
ways think  of  the  u  Red  Lion/'  and  laugh. 

w  Now,"  says  the  candidate,  "  as  sure  as  Gad 
made  Moses  this  will  do  'em  finely;  and  the 
beauty  of  it  is,  it  pledges  me  to  nothing,  eh,  isn't 
that  so  ?" 

"Except  to  the  minister,"  put  in  the  Cannibal. 

(l  Oh  !  of  course,  of  course — that's  a  matter  of 
course,"  said  our  new  friend ;  u  and  now,  gentle- 
men, good-night — I'm  sleepy.     Send  this  hum- 
bug to  the    printer,  and    come   to    me   in  the 
morning  to  breakfast." 

So  he  yawned,  and  we  went  away.  We  sat  in 
the  bar  for  an  hour,  drinking  and  smoking  at  his 
expense,  chatting  to  the  barmaid,  and  sounding 
his  praises  far  and  wide. 

When  we  got  into  the  streets  next  morning  we 
found  them  placarded  with  long  posters  contain- 
ing the  precious  epistle  which  had  been  concocted 
the  night  before.  Before  each  one  was  an  ad- 
miring crowd,  and  we  could  see  by  the  looks  of 
the  electors  that  our  flummery  had  not  been 
thrown  before  swine,  but  that  they  believed  all 
the  fine  things  that  we  had  told  them,  swallowing 


248  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

it  down  with  a  truly  British  gusto,  for  who  so 
gullible  as  dear  fat  John  Bull,  with  all  his 
boasted  common  sense  ? 

We  found  our  host  at  breakfast ;  he  had  not 
condescended  to  wait  for  us ;  and  when  that 
meal  was  finished  we  prepared  measures — Bully, 
Hogden,  Bill,  and  I.  The  following  was  only  a 
portion  of  our  tactics  : — 

We  first  engaged  about  a  dozen  deep  knaves, 
who  went  into  the  enemy's  camp,  and  by  the 
most  furious  denunciations  of  Mr.   Plantagenet 
and  his  principles,  got  into  the  confidence  of  the 
opposition,  and  were  initiated,  before  the  week 
was  over,  into  all  their  devices,  every  one  of  which 
they  communicated  to  us,  thus  enabling  us  in  all 
things  to  countermine  the  foe.     As  the  whole 
constituency  numbered  about  four  hundred,  five- 
and-twenty  of  whom  alone  were  unbribable,  we 
engaged  a  great  proportion  of  them,  their  wives, 
brothers,    sisters,     and    sons     as     messengers, 
musicians,  bill-stickers,  laundresses,  seamstresses, 
&c,  &c.,at  the  simple  remuneration  of  five-and- 
sixpence  a  day ;  and  as  the  nomination  day  was 
about  a  fortnight  off  they  thus  secured   a  very 
handsome   allowance.     But   as  the   day   of  the 
grand  struggle  came  near  we  found  that  the  other 
side   were    paying    seven    shillings   a    head    for 
messengers,   and    numerous  were  the   deserters 


EDWARD   W0RTLEY   MONTAGU.  249 

from  our  side,  whose  names  were  nightly  repeated 
to  us.  We  were  now  obliged  to  pay  up  the 
difference  in  arrear,  so  as  to  make  the  pay  given 
by  our  side  equal  to  that  which  our  opponents 
had  given  from  the  first.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
great  demand  for  cider,  and  we  purchased  from  a 
doubtful  publican  twenty  pounds1  worth  of  that 
delicious  beverage  which,  as  his  wife  assured  us, 
would  make  him  ours  for  ever ;  as  for  the  publi- 
can himself,  he  declined  to  give  any  pledge,  but 
referred  us  to  his  wife,  who,  he  always  said, 
guided  him  in  politics.  The  other  side  gave  her 
a  brocade  silk  dress ;  the  Cannibal  sent  her  one  of 
satin,  embroidered  with  velvet,  and  a  pair  of 
glittering  gold  ear-rings — we  bought  them  off  a 
Jew  pedlar  for  half-a- crown,  but  they  certainly 
looked  splendid.  Hogden  sent  her  a  hymn-book, 
with  a  bank  note  inside,  which  carried  the  day, 
and  we  had,  after  that,  no  more  staunch  or  de- 
voted adherent  than  the  publican  and  his  spouse. 
But  the  excitement  now  became  dreadful.  Mr. 
Plantagenet  ordered  two  dozen  pairs  of  boots,  and 
the  worthy  maker  received  for  each  of  these 
useful  articles  of  attire  the  moderate  price  of  five 
guineas — leather,  I  suppose,  having  suddenly  been 
raised  in  price,  owing  to  the  war,  or  the  peace,  or 
the  bad  harvest,  or  the  plentiful  supply  of  rain, 
or  some  other  calamity  of  a  similar  description. 

m  5 


250  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

Hats  were  sold  for  five  pounds  each,  whereupon 
the  other  side  bade  six,  and  fairly  drove  us  out  of 
the  market.     We  could  not  get  a  single  indepen- 
dent hatter  to  have  anything  to  do  with  us  ;  they 
voted  us  mean,  shabby,    niggardly,  and  enemies 
of  the  British  Constitution.     Every  tavern  in  the 
place  was  now  kept  open  at  the  expense  of  one  or 
other  of  the  honourable  candidates.    Hogden  was 
in  his  element;  he  became  more  sanctimonious 
every  day ;  he  seemed  to  have  got  the  whole  of 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins  off  by  heart,  and   where 
ever  he  went  he  poured  it  into  the  ears  of  the 
godly.      He  had  already  presented   a   couple  of 
sucking  pigs,  one  to  the  Rev.  Aminadab  Grroanley; 
another  to  the  Rev.  Jehosaphat  Diggnan,  who 
presided  over  a  few  select   spirits,  whose  religious 
tenets  were  hardly  known,    but  who  numbered 
certain  voters  among  them,  and  made    no   secret 
that  money  was  the  god  of  their  political  prin- 
ciples.    These  sucking  pigs   had  a  new  kind  of 
stuffing,  of  which  Hogden  was  the  grand  iuven- 
tor ;  this  was  simply  a  bit  of  paper,  which,  when 
opened,  discovered  to  the   delighted  recipient  a 
fifty  pound  note ;  and  it  was  marvellous  what  a 
stimulus  to  electioneering  zeal  a  dainty  of  this 
kind  gave  to  the  reverend  recipients  !     Nothing 
but  Plantagenet !  Plantagenet !  rang    from  their 
lips,  at  pulpit    and    tea  party ;  nor    were    they 
silent  on  the  virtues  of  Hogden. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  251 

Two  more  wretches  remained,  who  were  also 
secured.  These  rapscallions  were  joint  proprietors 
of  the  Bilgewater  Post,  a  wretched  rag  which 
circulated  in  the  town,  and  had  a  good  pot-house 
connection.  A  few  pounds  bought  this  journal, 
with  all  its  staff,  body  and  soul ;  they  sent  their 
farthing-a- liners  to  all  Plantagenet's  meetings, 
and  though  the  little  rat-catcher  could  not  speak 
two  sentences  of  decent  English,  they  represented 
him  as  a  second  Pitt.  They  sent  the  same  as- 
sassins to  our  opponent's  meetings,  and  every- 
thing he  said  was  so  coloured,  falsified,  and 
perverted  that  the  electors  who  did  not  attend 
half  believed  he  was  little  better  than  a  maniac  ; 
and  this,  though  it  did  not  prevent  their  taking 
his  money,  merely  gave  them  an  excuse  for  de- 
manding higher  prices,  for  the  greater  the  fool 
the  higher  the  bribe.  This  became  the  shibboleth 
of  the  town,  and  increased  our  opponent's  ex- 
penses— a  trick  never  to  be  forgotten  in  elec- 
tions. 

All  soon  became  riot,  drunkenness,  and 
debauchery  as  befits  an  election  carried  on  ac- 
cording to  truly  Constitutional  principles.  We 
were  blue,  our  opponents  were  scarlet ;  and  when 
the  respective  bands  and  backers  of  each  met, 
awful  and  sanguinary  were  the  struggles.  These 
brought  the  surgeons,  the  apothecaries,  &c,  &c, 


252  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

into  requisition,  and  as  we  paid  handsomely  as 
well  for  our  own  wounded  men  as  those  of  the 
enemy  we  had  the  medical  profession  secure-' 1. 
Shaveley  Bill  shouted  every  night  from  the 
balcony  of  the  hotel  until  he  got  hoarse  and 
could  speak  no  more.  Hogden  attended  no  end 
of  pious  tea  parties,  quoted  scripture,  and  in- 
sinuated guineas.  The  honourable  candidate  also 
addressed  the  electors,  but  nearly  ruined  himself 
by  once  having  his  umbrella  held  over  his  head 
during  a  shower  of  rain  while  the  electors  endured 
the  pelting  of  the  storm,  and  greeted  him  with 
groans  and  laughter  for  his  effeminacy.  Now 
the  blue  was  in  the  ascendant,  now  the  scarlet 
was  victorious,  and  on  the  day  before  the  election 
the  Cannibal  came  to  me  in  despair,  and  said — 

"  We  must  buy  cats,  bottle  voters,  bid  for 
bloaters,  and  poll  dead  men,  or  we  shall  lose  the 
election." 

The  feline  merchandise  at  once  commenced. 
Never  had  grimalkin  been  so  valuable — at  least 
never  since  Dick  Whittington  sold  his  cat 
to  the  Soldan  of  Morocco  for  a  ton  of  gold, 
and  blessed  the  day  that  he  came  back  a 
happy  boy  to  Bow  Bells.  Mousers  that  1 
longed  to  free  and  independent  voters  were 
sought  after  everywhere — those  of  the  constituents 
who  hadn't  cats  stole  them,    and   great  was  the 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  253 

outcry  among  the  old  women  whose  tabbies  were 
ruthlessly  abducted  from  them.  The  "  Red 
Lion "  was  soon  filled  with  these  unfortunate 
creatures,  and  as  each  was  purchased  for  twenty 
pounds,  there  seemed  no  end  to  their  importa- 
tion. We  could  only  destroy  them  as  fast  as 
they  were  brought ;  and  a  man  offered  Fitz- 
Howard  sixpence  a  piece  for  their  carcases,  which 
that  worthy  was  but  too  happy  to  receive.  Hog- 
den  went  about  in  all  directions  purchasing 
bloaters  at  unheard-of  prices.  He  penetrated 
every  lane  and  alley ;  wherever  he  went  he  opened 
his  pockets.  In  one  hole  we  bought  a  grey 
parrot  for  fifty  guineas ;  in  another  we  gave  the 
same  amount  for  an  old  pig  which  was  at  the 
point  of  death,  kindly  allowing  the  owner  to  kill 
and  eat  it.  To  the  women  who  were  in  the 
family-way  we  said  "  Goody  this,  or  Goody  that," 
whatever  her  name  might  be, i(  wouldn't  you  like 
a  silver  cup  for  the  young  'un  ?  Christen  him 
after  Mr.  Plantagenet,  and  the  thing  is  done." 
And  there  were  actually  some  twenty  cups 
brought  down  from  London  to  the  "  Red  Lion  " 
for  these  precious  babes. 

Mr.  Plantagenet's  address  was  printed  on  blue 
satin  by  one  of  the  mercers  in  the  town  and  dis- 
tributed in  hundreds.  This  cost  a  vast  sum,  but 
the  worthy  mercer's  vote  was  won.     Such  an  ex- 


254  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

hibition  of  high  and  patriotic    principle  worked 
an  astonishing  change  in  our  favour.     We  now 
began  to  "  bottle."     Thirty-five  doubtful  voters 
were  invited  to  a  champagne  supper  at  the  tl  King's 
Head,"  the  landlord  of  which  was  in  our  interest. 
Shaveley  Rill  was  appointed  to  fill  the  chair.  Three 
large  waggons,  each  drawn   by  six  horses,  with 
plentiful    relays,  were    engaged.     After   a   most 
delightful   entertainment  the  waggODS  and  the 
visitors  were  found  next  night  some  fifty  miles 
away  from  the  town  where  the  election  was  held, 
and  even  then  the  independent  freemen  had  not 
wholly  recovered  the  intoxicating  effects  of  the 
champagne  which  they  had  drank — I  won't  say 
how    much    our   laudanum   bill    was,  as   Rooke 
managed  all  these  matters.     Rooke  next  prepared 
his  "  dead  men."     The  lists  of  the  constituency 
were  carefully  gone  through,  and  various  worthy 
fellows  were  procured  who  personated  voters  who 
had  long  since  lain  at    rest    in   the  churchyard. 
The  make  up  of  these  varlets  was  excellent,  even 
the  widows  of  the    real  defunct  parties,  and  in 
many  instances    their   mothers,    and     surviving 
friends  and  relations  boldly  declared — after  they 
had  had  a  short   interview  with  the  Cannibal  in 
a  private  room — that  the  dressed-up  voters  were 
the  bondjide  persons  whom  they  represented,  and 
though  the  other  side  were  on  the   alert,  Rooke 
did  not  care  a  farthing. 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  265 

"  Win  the  election  any  way,"  said  he,  "  then 
let  them  petition  if  they  like.  We  can  make  it 
cost  them  nine  or  ten  thousand  pounds ;  the 
chances  are  we  can  buy  them  off  for  a  quarter  of 
the  sum,  and  then  the  election  will  be  ours." 

So  we  resolved  to  poll  the  dead  men  with  the 
most  utter  fearlessness.  This,  and  the  bottling, 
and  the  lying,  and  the  cat  buying,  and  bloater 
catching,  we  hoped  would  secure  us  the  election — 
a  hope  in  which,  as  it  subsequently  turned  out, 
we  were  not  disappointed. 

But  the  grand  stroke  of  all  remained,  in  which 
our  new  but  unsavoury  friend  Hogden  won  great 
laurels ;  indeed,  "  The  Bloater  "  considered  it  his 
trump  card.  Two  or  three  days  before  the  no- 
mination the  whole  district,  even  for  miles  round, 
was  covered  with  gigantic  posters,  bordered  with 
black,  in  which  our  opponent  was  represented  as 
a  man  noted  for  his  blasphemies  and  debauch- 
eries ;  the  character  of  his  wife — a  most  honour- 
woman — but  what  did  Hogden  care? — was  viru- 
lently assailed,  and  she  was  dragged  into  all  the 
filth  of  the  election  whirlpool,  in  away  that  ought 
to  have  made  any  body  of  Englishmen  blush ; 
but  the  majority  of  the  constituency  were  now  so 
debased  that  they  seemed  to  think  any  amount  of 
dirt,  falsehood,  or  filth,  which  could  secure  a 
triumph  for  their  favourite  was  perfectly 
allowable,  and  their  reverend  advisers,  T  am  sorry 


256  EDWARD    WORTLKY    MONTAGU. 

to  say,  were  foremost  in  their  approval  of  these 
tactics.  After  this  other  posters  came  out,  in 
which  our  opponent  was  represented  to  the  con- 
stituency as  having  come  down  to  the  borough 
under  false  colours,  being  bribed  to  sell  his  party  ; 
to  profess  principles  of  which  he  was  not  the  true 
advocate,  and  to  commit  I  know  not  how  manv 
other  equally  odious  treasons.  Lastly,  on  the 
very  day  before  the  election,  the  following 
placard  was  posted,  as  having  emanated  from  the 
religious  community,  of  which  our  opponent  was 
a  leading  and  a  shining  light  ;  and  as  it  purported 
to  have  come  from  London  there  was  of  course 
no  time  for  a  contradiction  to  be  put  forth. 

Mr.  Johnson  and  his  Church.* 

The  following  communication  has  been  received 
by  the  hon.  candidate  for  Bilgewater ;  and  the 
true,  honest,  and  religious  "  Scarlets  M  are  affec- 
tionately asked  whether  they  can  possibly  vote 
for  a  man  who  has  been  expelled  from  his  own 
religious  community  for  his  sayings  and  doings 
while  canvassing  this  borough  ? 

Drar  Sir, 

Since  our  interview  with  you  last  night, 
when  you  positively  denied  the  charges  of  blas- 
phemy and   debauchery  brought  against  you  in 

*  This,  with  one  or  two  alterations,  is  an  actual  copy  of  a  short 
blasphemous  excommunication,  which  really  took  place  at  B. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       257 

the  Hon.  Mr.  Plantagenet's  committee  bills,  we 
have  made  the  fullest  enquiries,  and  are  now 
satisfied  that  the  charges  are  true,  and  that  your 
denial  cannot  be  relied  on.  Our  deacons  likewise 
have  had  interviews  with  various  gentlemen  who 
attest  their  truth  in  every  particular.  It  appeared 
to  us,  also,  from  your  manner  that  when  you  were 
giving  your  denials,  you  were  evidently  stating 
what  you  knew  to  be  false.  Under  these  painful 
circumstances  we  felt  that  we  could  do  no  other 
than  bring  the  matter  before  the  Church,  who 
have  this  evening  passed  a  resolution  for  your  ex- 
pulsion. This  step  is  solely  taken  because  of 
your  conduct  while  at  Bilgewater,  which  is 
already  the  topic  of  general  remark,  to  the  injury 
of  the  cause  of  Christ,  with  which  vou  and  we 
have  been  connected.  We  most  earnestly  assure 
you  we  have  taken  this  step  in  no  spirit  of  un- 
kindness,  but  solely  as  a  duty  we  owe  to  Christ ; 
and  our  earnest  prayer  has  been,  and  will  be,  that 
God  will  give  you  repentance  unto  life  eternal,  and 
that  you  may  find  peace  and  pardon  again, 
through  the  blood  of  Christ,  which  cleanse th 
from  all  sin. 

Shalmanezer  Tomkins,  Pastor. 

Jeroboam  Dully,   )  r. 
Abiathab  Jones,    j  Deacons- 

London. 


268       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

It  was  in  vain  that  our  honourable  opponent, 
Johnson,  went  about  everywhere  denouncing  this 
as  a  forgery.     Wherever  he  went  he  was  followed 
by  hired  gangs,  the  very  scum  and  filth  of  Bilge- 
water,  pelted  with  stones,  old  bottles,  mud,  and 
rotten  eggs.     On  the  day  of  the  election  a  num- 
ber of  fellows  were  sent  in  every  direction,   with 
bells  and  handbills,  and  copies  of  the  Bilgewater 
Post,  in  which  the  honest  electors  were  warned 
against  voting  for  him,  as  he  had  been  taken  to 
the  county  jail  the  night  before  on  some  criminal 
charge  connected  with  the  election.     The  lowest 
rabble   with    eyes    like    ravenous    wolves,    and 
tongues  like  mad  dogs,  were  posted  round  each 
polling  place  howling  at  all  his  supporters ;   din- 
ning these  and  all  sorts  of  lies  into  the  ears  of 
the  general  body  of  voters;  hurrying  them  off  to 
public  houses    and  taverns  ;    plying    them    with 
drink,  till  the  whole  constituency  grovelled  before 
us  like  dirty  beasts ;    slipping  money  into  their 
hands,    and  perpetually  asking :     "  Would  you 
vote  for  a  man  that's  hired  to  sell  you  ?     Hasn't 
he  got  his  price  in  his  pocket  ?     Hasn't  he  been 
expelled  by  his  own  church,   after  full  enquiry  ? 
Didn't  I  hear  him  swear  and  blaspheme  so  aDd 
so  ?"  repeating  all  the  awful  language  which  was 
contained  in    Hogden's  placards.      Need    I  say 
that  all  this  had  an  immense  effect  ? 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  259 

I  was  near  forgetting  another  and  final  stroke 
of  ours,  which   I  believe  decided   the  election. 
About  the  last  hour,  when  there  were  still  a  great 
number  of  "  doubtfuls"-— and  only  conscientious 
characters,  who  even  then  could  not  make  up  their 
minds  as  to  the   respective   merits  of  the   rival 
candidates,  and  when  we  could  hardly  be  said  to 
be  safe,  Rooke  rushed  into  the  head  committee- 
room  in  great  excitement.     rt  Now  is  the  time  for 
the  hundreds,"  he  shouted,  and  with  a  profusion 
of  oaths  and  blasphemies,  he  summoned  Hogden, 
Shaveley  Bill,  and  the  bell-man   to  his  presence. 
The  three  came,  and  the  Cannibal  pulled  out  an 
immense  bundle  of  hundred- pound  bank  notes. 
Giving  a  handful  to  our  two  worthy  friends,  he  said 
to  the  bell-man,  i:  Up  and  ring  the  street,  you 
ugly  hang-gallows ;    up  and  down  like  wild  fire. 
Let  your  bell  ring  and  your  throat  proclaim  a 
hundred-pound  note  to  every  man  who  has  not  yet 
voted."     And  to   Hogden  and  Shaveley  he  said, 
u  Give  these  to  all  the  doubtful,  right  and  left." 
I  started  at  this  open  act  of  suicide,  as  it  seemed 
to  be  ;  but  Hogden  and  Shaveley,  put  their  fingers 
to  their  noses  and  called  out  "  How  jolly  !"  then 
rushing  into  the  streets,  did  as  they  were  told. 
In  less  than  twenty  minutes  all  the  "  doubtfuls'' 
were  secured  and  had  voted    for  us  ;   and  it  was 
only  when  they  took  their    notes  to  be  changed 


260       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

that  the  unfortuDate  victims,  who  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  discovered  they  had  been  shame- 
fully cheated,  and  instead  of  a  hundred-pound  note 
of  the  Bank  of  England,  they  found  they  had  sold 
themselves  for  a  base  bit  of  paper  which  was  pay- 
able only  at  the  Bank  of  Elegance.  But  their 
votes  had  then  been  given,  and  it  was  neither 
bribery  nor  corruption,  as  several  good  lawyers 
held.*  But  I  anticipate.  The  day  preceding  the 
election,  Plantagenet,  who  was  a  horrid  coward, 
sent  for  the  Cannibal.  We  found  him  in  his 
bed-room  ;  he  was  quite  pale. 

"  Cannibal,"  said  he,  "  I'm  told  I  shall  be  at- 
tacked going  to  the  hustings  to-morrow.  How 
shall  we  manage  ?" 

u  That's  all  right,"  replied  my  friend,  "  I  have 
got  Figg,  the  Champion  of  England,  down  al- 
ready ;  he  represents  the  heavy  weights.  Jem 
Blood,  of  the  light  weights,  is  also  come.  I  have 
promised  them  twenty  guineas  apiece,  and  woe 
to  the  man  that  lifts  his  haud  against  your 
honour." 

Plantagenet  smiled  faintly.  The  dirty  little 
craven  took  courage,  and  shook  the  Cannibal  by 
the  hand. 


*  This  excellent  electioneering  device  was  afterwards  imitated 
with  success  at  an  election  for  the  County  of  Worcester,  when 
Mr.  Foley  owed  his  retxirn  to  it. 


EDWARD  WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  261 

"  Bravo !  my  good  fellow,"  said  he,  "you 
shall  have  the  first  Judgeship  that  I  can  procure  j 
and  an  honour  you'll  be  to  the  Bench  I" 

Next  day  we  proceeded  to  the  hustings,  with 
drums  beating,  colours  flying,  trumpets  sound- 
ing, dogs  barking,  the  populace  shouting,  Groan- 
ley  and  Diggnan  singing  psalms,  the  women 
waving  handkerchiefs,  and  all  the  other  stupid 
folly  of  a  contested  election.  Our  plans  and  plots 
all  succeeded  ;  we  carried  everything  before  us. 
The  opposition  candidate  was  half  murdered ;  his 
proposer  and  seconder  were  overwhelmed  with 
filth,  and  the  day  ended  with  the  triumphant 
return  of  the  honourable  scion  of  Plantagenet. 

A  great  moral  victory  this  was,  no  doubt,  and 
so  the  honourable  member  regarded  it.  We  had 
a  grand  dinner,  at  which  every  one  present  got 
drunk,  to  the  music  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins, 
which  Hogden  led  off,  and  from  whose  effects 
they  did  not  recover  for  a  week,  to  the  great 
profit  (again)  of  the  medical  profession,  but  to 
the  great  disgust  of  Brownlow  Blades,  a  very 
honest  fellow,  who  had  written  several  excellent 
pamphlets,  strongly  recommending  temperance. 
We  had  a  chairing  through  the  streets,  and 
several  more  fights,  and  half  the  town  was  mad 
with  gin,  tobacco,  and  excitement ;  and  the  elec- 
tors were  in  fact  changed   as  by  the   Wand  of 


262  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

Comus,  into  dogs,  swine,  and  monkeys.  We  had 
a  funeral  procession,  and  a  coffin  bearing  the 
name  and  character  of  our  opponent  carried 
through  the  town  of  Bilgewater,  with  Rooke  and 
Shaveley  Bill  for  mourners.  Tom  Fireaway  read 
a  burlesque  of  the  burial  service,  in  which  he 
was  assisted  by  the  other  two  reverend  gents, 
and  the  coffin  was  buried  under  a  dung h ill, 
amid  a  profusion  of  dead  cats,  for  which  we 
had  so  handsomely  paid.  And  now  our  election 
bills  came  in  fast  and  furious,  and  the  Honour- 
able Thomas  pulled  several  very  long  faces  as 
he  perused  them ;  but  the  lord  privy,  &c,  paid 
them,  and  so  there  was  no  trouble  on  that  score ; 
though  the  other  side  basely  whispered  thai  the 
"  heaven  born  minister  of  the  day"  discharged 
them  out  of  some  secret  fund  which  was  annually 
set  apart  for  that  especial  purpose.  If  Walpite 
did  1  have  no  doubt  he  was  quite  right,  and  i  am 
sure  that  he  was  very  properly  reimbursed  for 
it  by  the  patriotic  votes  of  the  new  member; 
so  all  came  straight  and  square  in  the  end,  and 
the  Scarlet  party  were  thoroughly  put  down,  and 
scarcely  ventured  to  wag  their  tongues  against 
us.  The  defeated  candidate  petitioned,  but  noth- 
ing came  of  it;  everything  seemed  a  humbug, 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end;  and  though  a 
few  choice  spirits  called  attention  to  the  matter 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  263 

in  the  House,  Walpole  and  some  of  his  buffoons 
laughed  them  down ;  and  even  Pulteney  did  not 
stick  to  his  man.  It  was  all  a  swindle.  The 
House  went  the  length,  it  is  true,  of  ordering 
Hogden  to  be  prosecuted  for  bribery ;  but  that 
worthy  was  true  to  his  colours,  and  having  con- 
trived to  fee  the  Attorney  General's  Clerk  and 
one  or  two  others  connected  with  the  office,  he 
managed  to  escape  that  high  functionary,  who 
was  himself  probably  too  busy  to  bother  himself 
much  about  such  raggabrash  ;  and  thus  Hogden 
escaped  amid  a  derisive  cheer  of  joy  from  all 
the  bribers  and  blackguards  of  the  kingdom. 
But  what  did  they  think  of  a  Senate  that  con- 
nived at  such  rascality  ?  Why  simply  this,  that 
every  fellow  in  it,  being  tarred  with  the  same 
brush,  thought  it  hard  to  press  upon  a  delinquent 
like  Hogden  and  his  like,  without  whose  aid, 
arts,  and  appliances,  every  honourable  member 
knew  that  he  himself  also  must  have  lost  the 
seat  to  which  he  aspired.  But  thus  this  honest 
world  wags,  and  so  I  suppose  it  perpetually 
will  wag  on,  while  the  true  British  lion  shakes 
his  mane  at  all  the  earth,  and  with  his  roar 
quells  the  affrighted  forest. 

And  Mr.  Plantagenet  went  into  Parliament, 
where  he  distinguished  himself  by  his  anecdotes 
of  rat- catching,  told    at    Bellamy's  with   great 


264  EDWAKD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

applause  (for  he  was  too  modest  to  address  Mr. 
Speaker),  until  from  rat-catching  he  mounted  to 
the  noble  sport  of  dog-fighting,  bear  and  badger- 
baiting,  the  cock -pit,  the  bull,  and,  finally,  the 
prize  ring,  where  once  in  a  combat  with  his  old 
backer,  Jem  Blood,  who  was  teaching  him  to 
spar,  at  half-a-guinea  a  lesson,  his  left  eye  was 
unfortunately  knocked  out,  which  reduced  him  to 
a  political  nonentity,  for  he  soon  after  retired 
from  the  exalted  position  of  a  British  senator,  and 
settled  in  the  country  as  an  active  magistrate  and 
patron  of  the  cucking-stool  and  stocks.  Here  he 
passed  his  rosy  leisure,  till  he  succeeded  to 
the  peerage,  when  he  married  the  eldest  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  A.,  one  of  the  loveliest  women  in 
England,  who  soon  after  ran  away  from  him,  and 
left  him  to  the  company  of  his  dog  Billy,  who 
thus  became  the  joy  and  solace  of  his  old  age. 
He — the  nobleman,  not  the  dog — enjoyed  the 
reputation  of  having  killed  more  rats  and  cor- 
rupted more  country  girls  than  any  other  mem- 
ber of  the  peerage,  and  his  son  and  heir  inherits 
the  same  exalted  tastes.  I  met  him  at  White's 
some  years  ago,  and  was  present  at  a  wager  he 
laid  with  the  Marquis  of  Queensbury  as  to  the 
respective  speed  of  two  black  beetles.  The  stake 
was  five  thousand  guineas,  and  Queensbury  won 
(as  he  usually  docs),  and  laughed  at  young  Plan- 


EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU.       265 

tagenet,  which  I  thought  rather  unfeeling.  But  I 
digress.  Let  me  come  back  to  more  modest 
themes. 

An  incident  which  happened  a  day  or  two 
after  the  election  deserves  to  be  recorded.  The 
Cannibal,  Shaveley,  Hogden,  and  myself,  re- 
mained of  course  in  town,  to  settle  all  outstand- 
ing claims,  and  to  arrange  certain  little  matters 
with  our  honourable  and  independent  committee- 
men. We  were  rather  surprised  one  evening  to 
receive  a  message  from  Alderman  Bullface,  who 
had  been  among  the  bitterest  of  our  opponents  in 
the  late  struggle.  He  was  down  stairs,  and 
begged  to  be  admitted.  He  was  shown  into  the 
room,  and  the  Cannibal  warmly  shook  hands  with 
him;  for  Bullface  had  great  influence  over  his 
own  people,  and  if  we  could  but  get  him  to  our 
own  side,  all  hope  for  the  Scarlets  would  be 
utterly  and  for  ever  extinguished,  so  nicely  were 
these  two  great  constitutional  parties  balanced. 
Bullface  returned  the  Cannibal's  greeting  with 
equal  favour,  and  having  shaken  hands  with 
several  of  the  committeemen,  begged  permission 
to  be  heard.  It  was  at  once  granted,  and  Shaveley 
Bill  and  Parson  Fireaway  simultaneously  cried 
out,  "  Hear,  hear ;  a  cheer  for  Mr.  Alderman 
Bullface.' ' 

"  Gentlemen,"  says  the  Alderman,  "  I  admire 

VOL.    II.  N 


266  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

the  spirit  and  the  pluck  with  which  the  late 
election  was  carried.  All  is  now  over ;  let  bye- 
gones  be  bye-gones.  We  have  had  a  fair  stand-up 
fight ;  we  have  got  a  bellyfull,  and  you  have  won 
the  belt.  All  this  is  right  and  fair,  and  I  don't 
complain.  But  the  election  has  had  this  im- 
portant effect  on  my  own  mind,  and  on  those  of 
the  gentlemen  who  usually  go  with  me.  It  has 
separated  us  for  ever  from  the  Scarlet  party." 

Here  there  was  a  tremendous  burst  of  applause, 
which  nearly  knocked  the  ceiling  of  the  room  to 
pieces.  The  excitement  was  perfectly  dreadful ; 
several  of  the  committeemen  in  their  wild  eager- 
ness to  embrace  and  congratulate  Bullface  on  his 
independent  spirit,  jostled  against  and  knocked 
each  other  down,  and  the  cheering  for  "  Bull- 
face,"  "Bravo,  Alderman."  "Three  cheers  for 
Alderman  Bullface,"  a  Well  done,  my  hearty," 
"  Bullface  for  ever,"  &c,  &c,  which  arose, 
almost  broke  the  drums  of  our  ears.  The 
Alderman  listened  calmly  and  philosophically; 
he  was  as  unmoved  as  Socrates  when  his  friends 
surrounded  him  in  prison — and  some  wept,  while 
others  preached.  I  often  wonder  the  Grecian 
sage  did  not  kick  both  the  pedants  and  the 
pulers  to  the  deuce.  When  the  hurricane  had 
subsided,  the  worthy  Alderman  resumed — 

"  Yes,  gentlemen,  I  have  been  treated  with 


EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU.  267 

base  ingratitude ;  but  no  more  of  this.  I  am 
here  to  make  the  arrangement  I  have  mentioned ; 
in  all  coming  struggles  you  may  rely  on  me  and 
on  my  friends,  and  I  hope  to  make  up  by  my 
future  conduct  for  any  inconvenience  I  may  have 
put  you  to  by  my  former  opposition.  And  now, 
gentlemen,  I  bid  you  all  good  night,"  and  the 
Alderman  appeared  as  if  he  were  about  to  with- 
draw. 

The  thing  was  impossible.  What !  suffer  the 
worthy  Bullface  to  depart  in  this  manner  ?  It 
was  out  of  the  question.  He  must  stay — he  must 
have  a  glass  —  a  bottle — a  pipe  —  anything, 
everything — nothing  that  money  could  procure 
would  be  too  precious  for  this  high-spirited  and 
independent  elector,  who  carried  six  and  forty 
votes  in  his  breeches  pocket.  We  all  gathered 
round  him  and  entreated  him  to  remain.  The 
Cannibal  would  not  permit  his  departure — he 
went  and  locked  the  door.  The  chairman  of  the 
committee,  who  happened  also  to  be  the  mayor 
of  the  town,  never  heard  of  such  a  proposition  in 
his  life.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Fireaway  begged  him  not 
to  go.  Shaveley  Bill  said  he'd  sing  "  The  Great 
Plenipotentiary "  if  the  Alderman  would  but 
Bit  with  them  half-an-hour.  Hogden  offered  to 
sing  one  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins's  psalms  if 
he'd  remain. 


268  EDWARD    WOKTLEY    MONTAGU. 

At  length,  after  great  entr  eaty,  Bullface  again 
addressed  them — 

"  Mr.  Mayor,  and  gentlem  en  of  the  Blue  Com- 
mittee," said  he,  "  this  is  the  proudest,  happiest 
moment  of  my  life.     It  is   impossible  for  me  to 
express  what  I  feel.     Why,  oh,    why  have   we 
been  so   long  on  opposite  sides  ?     Why  have  we 
been  so  long  blind  to  each  other's  excellencies  ? 
I  am  delighted  to  have  found  so  many  and  such 
kind  friends — and  all   for  the  performance  of  a 
simple  act  of  duty.     With  pleasure  I  accept  your 
kind  hospitality — but  only  on  this  condition,  that 
you  also  will  partake  of  mine.     When  we  have 
had  a   glass  or  two,  sutler  me  to  hope  that  you 
will  not  refuse  to  partake  of  a  little  supper  with 
me.     If  I  receive  your  consent,  I  will  but  step 
over  to   the   Swan  and  order  it ;    we  shall  have 
it  nice  and  hot,  and  it  shall  be  ready  in  an  hour. 
It  m  ust  be  pot  luck,  gentleman,  for  I  really  don't 
know  what  they  can  get  at  a  moment's  notice ; 
but  though  plain   and  simple,  we  shall  not  the 
less  heartily  enjoy  it." 

There  were  several  hungry  fellows  on  our  com- 
mittee, who  enjoyed  nothing  better  than  a  feast 
at  another  man's  expense.  They  smacked  their 
lips  at  the  anticipated  Aldermanic  banquet ;  the 
invitation  was  accepted,  and  Bullface  stepped 
across  the  street  to  give  his  orders.     He  was  not 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  269 

away  more  than  five  minutes,  and  when  he  came 
back  there  was  a  sunny  smile  on  his  face. 

"  Mr.  Mayor  and  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
happy  to  inform  you  that  they  can  supply  us.  It 
is  now  eight  o'clock — supper  will  be  ready  at  nine. 
Until  then,  let  us  sit  down  and  talk  over  the  past 
like  good  fellows.'* 

And  we  did  sit  down  ;  what  capital  boon  com- 
panions we  all  were.  Since  the  days  of  the 
primitive  Christians  there  was  not  a  more  delight- 
ful M  love  feast"  than  that  which  was  to  come, 
and  of  which  this  drinking  bout  was  to  be  the 
prelude.  Groanley  and  Diggnan  compared  the 
meeting  to  the  primitive  Agapse.  We  drank,  at 
Plantagenet's  expense,  the  most  excellent  claret 
that  could  be  got  for  money— we  swilled  it  about 
like  water  ;  we  warmed  it  with  real  Cogniac.  At 
nine  we  adjourned  to  the  Swan,  and  were  shewn 
into  the  supper  room.  Covers  were  laid  for  thirty. 
We  were  twenty-five  committeemen  ;  Bullface, 
Hogden,  the  Cannibal,  Fireaway,  Shavely  Bill, 
myself,  and  the  landlord  of  the  Red  Lion,  who 
had  shewn  himself  a  most  desperate  partisan  all 
through  the  election,  completed  the  number. 
Bullface  sat  at  the  head  near  the  door,  with  the 
Cannibal  and  Fireaway  on  his  right,  Shaveley  Bill 
and  Hogden  on  the  left ;  the  landlord  of  the  Red 

n  5 


270  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

Lion  occupied  the  vice-chair,  and  the  dishes  were 
quickly  uncovered. 

"  Mr.  Mayor  and  Gentlemen,"  says  Mr.  Bull- 
face,  "  it  is  a  plain  supper  ;  at  this  short  notice  I 
could  get  nothing  but  rabbits  in  the  borough — 
nor  could  even  these  be  got  in  sufficient  quantity, 
only  that,  as  you  know,  to-morrow  is  our  great 
rabbit  fair,  and  I  fortunately  waylaid  a  higgler 
who  was  on  his  way  to  it,  and  bought  two  dozen 
of  his  finest.  Mine  host  of  the  Swan  tells  me 
they  have  made  a  most  beautiful  stew,  and  indeed 
they  smell  deliciously.  Let  us  dispatch  them  as 
soon  as  possible.  I  have  ordered  four  or  five 
dozen  champagne  to  follow." 

Saying  this,  the  Alderman  began  to  help  those 
who  sat  near  him.  There  were  six  dishes  of 
these  delicious  animals,  each  containing  four ; 
they  steamed  with  onions,  pepper,  and  many 
other  fragrant  condiments.  The  sparkling  vision 
of  the  coming  champagne  inspired  the  committee- 
men, and  ample  justice  was  done  to  the  Alder- 
man's rabbits.  The  company  indeed  was  profose 
in  their  praises. 

"  I  never  tasted  anything  sweeter,"  said  the 
Mayor. 

"  They  are  perfectly  delicious,"  said  Hogden. 

"  Babbit  me,"  cried  the  Cannibal,  "  but  this  is 
the  best  part  of  the  election. 


EDWARD    WORT  LEY   MONTAGU.  271 

"  How  jolly  !"  roared  out  Shaveley  Bill. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Bullface,  "  enjoy  yourselves, 
I  am  delighted  to  see  you." 

"  But,  Mr.  Alderman,"  cried  the  Mayor,  t€  how 
is  it  you're  eating  none  yourself?" 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Mayor,"  answered  our  host,  "  I 
have  drank  so  much  of  your  excellent  claret,  that 
I  really  have  no  room,  but  I  will  begin  presently. 
In  the  meantime  let  me  help  you  to  this  back — 
it  is  fat  and  plump." 

And  so  the  plates  went  round,  and  silvery  was 
the  clatter  of  knives  and  forks.  I  was  myself 
rather  a  spectator  than  an  actor  in  this  happy 
scene.  The  fact  was,  like  the  Alderman  himself, 
I  had  indulged  in  the  claret,  until  1  felt  disposed 
for  nothing  else  ;  I  therefore  fiddled  with  a  bit  of 
bread.  But  Groanley  and  Diggnan  stuffed  them- 
selves like  boas. 

Half  an  hour  or  more,  having  been  thus 
delightfully  enjoyed,  the  Alderman  arose,  and 
apologising  for  leaving  the  room,  said  he  was 
going  to  see  after  the  champagne.  In  his  absence 
we  drank  his  health  in  some  very  good  beer,  and 
all  agreed  that  there  was  not  a  better  fellow  in 
the  world. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  hamper  of  champagne 
was  brought  in,  and  laid  on  the  table.  A  note  at 
the  same  time  was  handed  from  the  Alderman  to 


272       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

the  Mayor,  which  the  latter  read  aloud.      It  was 
as  follows : — 

"  Friday  night. 

"Dear  Mr.  Mayor, — 

a  I  am  unexpectedly  called  away  by  a  sudden 
matter,  which  admits  of  no  delay.  Pray  make 
my  apology  to  the  company  for  my  unlooked  for 
absence.     I  hope  you  will  enjoy  the  sham. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"John  Bullface." 

We  had  a  laugh  at  the  worthy  alderman's 
mode  of  spelling  the  first  syllable  of  cham- 
pagne. 

"  But  as  it's  French,"  says  the  Mayor,  taking, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  the  vacant  chair,  "  why  our 
departed  friend  cannot  be  expected  to  know  any- 
thing of  a  foreign  lingo.  He's  a  good  John 
Bull,  and  true  son  of  old  England,  I  know.  In 
the  meantime,  gentlemen,  so  long  as  his  wine  is 
real,  we  can  overlook  the  spelling,"  and  gently 
smiling  at  his  easy  humour,  he  drew  the  hamper 
towards  him. 

"  Waiter,"  said  he,  "  bring  the  nippers,  and 


EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  273 

Champagne  tumblers.  Gentlemen  we  shall  drink 
in  bumpers  and  no  mistake." 

It  seemed  to  me,  that  for  a  hamper  containing 
so  many  bottles  of  wine,  it  was  wielded  without 
much  trouble  by  our  worthy  President.     How- 
ever, he   himself,  intent   on   approaching   bliss, 
evidently  heeded  nothing  but  to  draw  forth  the 
contents  as    speedily  as  possible.     He   cut   the 
cords  and   lifted   up  the   lid.     We   could  see  no 
bottles,  nor  any  straw  in  which  they  were  likely 
to  be  concealed.     The  mayor  put  in  his  hand,  and 
drew  forth  a  brown  paper  parcel  nicely   sealed, 
and   addressed    to    "  His    Worship."     We    all 
gathered  round   him.     With    anxious  trembling 
hand  he  tore  open   the   parcel,  and  revealed  to 
our    astonished   view,    twenty-four    cat's    tails, 
together  with  the  head  and  claws  of  an  old  gray 
parrot.     In  a  moment  the  horrible  truth  flashed 
on  us.     We  had  supped  on — but  let  me  pause. 
0!  Bullface. 

The  whole  company  was  sick  in  five  minutes. 
Never  was  there  a  more  awful  catastrophe. 


The  reader  may  probably  ask  me,  "  Pray,  Mr. 
Montagu,  what  were  you  doing,  during  all  this 
hard  fought  election  ?"  That  is  my  secret,  which 
I  am  not  at  all  bound  to  reveal.     I   only  know, 


274  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

instead  of  fifty,  I  got  a  hundred  pounds  out  of 
the  successful  candidate,  and  that  was  all  I  cared 
for.  Disgusted  with  myself,  and  all  I  had  seen, 
I  hastened  back  to  London,  and  made  a  vow 
that  before  I  would  again  mix  myself  in  an 
election  contest  with  such  dirty  fellows  as  Rooke 
and  Hogden,  I  would  beg  my  bread  from  door 
to  door,  even  if  I  had  to  take  my  wife  and  children 
on  my  back ;  or  enlist  as  a  soldier,  and  starve 
honestly  on  sixpence  a  day. 


EDWARD   WORTLEf   MONTAGU.  275 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 


"The  sword  without  and  terror  within,  shall  destroy  both  tha 
young  man  and  the  virgin." 


During  all  this  time,  I  had  not  forgotten  what  I 
owed  to  my  loved  Francesca.  I  searched  the 
peerage  books,  consulted  a  lawyer,  and  made 
enquiries  as  largely  as  I  could  without  attracting 
particular  attention  to  either  of  us.  Under  my 
incognito  of  Smith,  I  was  to  some  extent  safe, 
but  I  did  not  care  much  to  go  into  the  fashionable 
parts  of  the  metropolis  too  openly,  for  I  dreaded 
recognition,  not  only  by  my  mother's  friends,  but 
by  Dom  Balthazar,  whom  I  instinctively  knew 
to  be  after  me,  animated  as  much  by  vengeance 
as  by  thirst  of  money.  My  Francesca  scarcely 
ever  ventured  out  except  in  my  company.     I  dis- 


276  EDWARD   WORTLEY    MONTAGU. 

guised  myself  so  as  to  be  as  unlike  as  possible 
what  I  had  been  among  the  gypsies.  It  may  be 
asked  why  I  did  not  keep  my  promise  to 
Francesca,  to  fly  with  her  to  my  father,  and 
replace  her  in  her  proper  sphere  ?  The  answer 
is — and  I  know  that  it  is  an  unsatisfactory  one — 
I  delayed  doing  so  until  I  could  present  her  in 
her  true  character.  I  plumed  myself  with  the 
grand  hope  that  I  should  go  before  Mr.  Wortley 
Montagu,  and  say,  "  Here  I  am,  I  present  to 
you  as  your  daughter-in-law,  a  scion  of  a  most 
noble  house.  She  is  all  mine,  for  she  loves  me 
entirely  for  myself.  She  loved  me  when  she 
knew  not  that  I  was  other  than  a  wanderer." 
This  I  thought  would  be  at  least  a  part  in  which 
I  should  worthily  appear.  But  how  could  I 
venture  before  him  until  the  great  object  of  my 
search  was  accomplished  ?  To  introduce  into  his 
house  a  gitana — for  in  no  other  light  would  she 
stand  until  her  true  descent  was  established — 
would  be  to  incense  him  and  his  wife  against 
both  with  anunextinguishable  fury.  Besides,  to 
own  the  truth,  1  did  not,  particularly  desire  to  face 
him.  There  was  a  vagabond  independence,  an 
erratic  Arab  sort  of  freedom  in  my  present  mode 
of  life  that  pleased  me.  For  mere  animal 
pleasures  I  did  not  care  much.  My  father  with 
a  million  at  his  back,  could  live  on  fifty  pounds 


EDWARD   WOHTLEY   MONTAGU.  277 

a  year ;  why  should  not  I  be  able  to  make  the 
same  boast  ?  Our  garret  was  neat  and  modest ; 
we  passionately  loved  each  other  ;  we  read,  wrote, 
and  studied  together,  fche  was  delighted — poor 
child — with  my  scanty  earnings.  Our  treasures 
in  that  way  seemed  inexhaustible*  My  brain 
appeared  a  golden  mine  on  which  1  could  draw  at 
will.  And  then  how  exquisite  a  luxury  was  her 
praise  of  my  works  when  perfected.  One  word 
of  commendation  from  her  was  worth  all  the 
applause  of  the  critics.  Mrs.  Sale  was  enchanted 
with  her,  as  who  would  not  be?  She  flashed 
upon  her  like  a  new  star.  I  repeat  there  was  a 
vagrant  charm,  a  strange  eccentric  fascination  in 
the  whole  affair,  which  restrained  me  from  making 
any  offer  to  return  home,  and  though  I  knew  that 
I  had  outgrown  schools  and  rods,  and  had  no  fear 
on  that  head,  still  I  did  not  really  need  Lady 
Mary,  her  husband,  or  their  splendid  home.  We 
had  love  in  a  garret,  and  that  sufficed  for  all 
things — let  misers  and  money-grubbers  say  what 
they  will. 

One  day  when  I  returned  home  (we  had  now 
been  about  six  months  in  London),  Francesca 
told  me,  with  an  appearance  of  strange  alarm, 
that  she  had  seen  Dom  Balthazar  pass  by,  and 
look  up  at  our  house.  She  happened  to  be  at 
the  window  at   the  moment,  and  suddenly  drew 

VOL.    II.  0 


278  EDWARD    WOKTLEY    MONTAGU. 

back,  but  did  Dot  venture  to  look  out  again  to 
observe  whether  he  had  stayed  to  reconnoitre,  or 
whether  his  movement  had  been  anything  indeed 
but  casual.  This  information  gave  me  some 
alarm  ;  yet  1  heeded  little  that  could  be  done  in 
the  way  of  open  violence.  I  was  in  the  middle  of 
the  metropolis,  where  it  would  have  been  hard  at  all 
events  to  perpetrate  any  great  outrage ;  or  openly 
violate  the  laws.  However,  I  thought  it  as  well 
to  guard  against  all  risk  of  danger,  and  we  left 
our  lodgings  the  following  day,  and  went  into  an 
entirely  different  part  of  London.  We  neglected, 
however — as  afterwards  appeared — one  most 
material  precaution  ;  for  the  person  who  removed 
our  things  carried  them  straight  into  our  new 
dwelling,  and  we  forgot  to  bribe  him  into  silence, 
or  rather  we  never  suspected  that  our  change  of 
residence  might  thus  by  an  active  adversary  be 
easily  traced.  We  were  now  happy  again. 
Francesca's  (ears  gradually  abated,  and  I  went 
abroad  as  usual  among  my  coffee-house  friends 
and  patrons.  It  happened  that  I  remained  there 
one  night  later  than  usual.  \\  hen  I  left,  it  was 
past  midnight.  I  had  been  detained  by  the 
buffooneries  of  that  reverend  quack  Orator,  Henley, 
who  held  forth  to  an  admiring  audience  of  fops 
and  witlings  in  the  most  extraordinary  medley  of 
learning,    farce,  scurrility,  and  indecency  that  has 


EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  279 

been  heard  since  the   days  of  Aretino,  or  Rabe- 
lais— or  to  go  further  back,  perhaps  Aristophanes 
himself,  that  mad  wag    of  quality    who  has  so 
many   sins  against   propriety   and    Socrates    to 
answer  for.      The    subject   was,  I  think,  "  The 
Marriage  of  Oana  in  Galilee,"  and  while  a  large 
portion  of  the  comedy  was  borrowed  from  poor 
Woolston,    a   great   deal  more  was    the   proper 
lucubration     of    our    renowned    tub-Thersites ; 
and  loud  was  the  applause  which  he  excited.    We 
cheerfully  subscribed  our  sixpence  at  tbe  close, 
and  the  r.j  mntebauk  making  a  low  bow,  wished 
us     all     with   old    Nickolas,    who    he    assured 
us  was  his  proper  Metropolitan  and  Archiman- 
drite,  and  would    gratefully   reward   us  for  the 
lessons   which   we  had    just   learned    from    his 
accredited  clergyman.     I  walked   home  part  of 
the  way  with    old   Colley  Cibber,    who   among 
other  profane  sexagenerians,  had  been  loudest  of 
all  the  assembled  rascals  in  his  applause.     He 
was  not  quite  old  enough  to  remember  Sir  Charles 
Sedley's  horrible  exhibition  of  himself  in  Covent 
Garden,  or  Rochester's  sermon  as  a  foreign  quack 
on  Tower  Hill  ;    but  he  had  known  persons  who 
had  been  present  at  bo*h,  and  having  heard  them 
frequently  described,  he  declared  that  Henley's 
was  a   more  agreeable  treat  to  all  blackguard- 
minded    individuals     than    either;     adding    he 


280  EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  score  of  guineas. 
We  parted  at  a   cross    street,  and    I   wandered 
slowly  homeward.     Suddenly  I  felt  myself  seized, 
gagged,  and  bound.      I  was  flung  into  a  hackney 
coach  ;  two   men  instantly  jumped  in  after  me  ; 
a  secret  direction  was  given  to  the  driver,  and  I 
was  hurried  off  with  the  rapidity  of  a  hunt.    The 
night  was  dark,  and  we  moved  so  rapidly  that 
even  had  I  known  my  companions,  I  doubt  whether 
I  could  have  recognised  them.  A  passing  glimpse 
of  light  from  a  dying  lamp  revealed  two  faces 
masked.     Not  a  word  was  spoken       We  rode  for 
about  two   hours,  without  once  stepping.      We 
made  a  momentary  halt  at  some  turnpike  gates ; 
but  they  flew  open  as  if  by  magic,  and  we  passed 
through  unchallenged.        At  length,    when   the 
morning  gray  was  almost  breaking,  we  stopped  at 
an  iron  gate ;  it  opened,  and  we  proceeded  up  a 
dark  avenue.     A  house  with  one  solitary  light 
appeared  in  the  distance.      I  was  brought  in,  led 
upstairs,  and  thrust  into  a  bedroom  in  which  a  fire 
was  burning,  screened  by  an  iron-wire  guard.     A 
light  also  was  hung  against  the  wall,  but  so  as  to 
be  inaccessible  to  the  inmate  of  the  room.      The 
door  was  locked  on  the  outside,  and  I  was  left  to 
my  meditations. 

My  first  thought  was,  of  course,  home — I  do 
not  mean  Lady  Mary's,  for  that  was  never  a  home 


EDWARD    WORTLEY   MONTAGU.  281 

to  me — but  my  true  home — the  home  and  house- 
hold of  my  heart.  My  wife,  Francesca — poor 
child !  I  said,  what  will  become  of  thee  ?  Alone 
in  London — I  dread  to  think.  Oh  !  let  me  fly  to 
thee  !  I  rushed  to  the  bed — I  tore  off  the  clothes. 
I  tied  the  sheets  together  in  a  long  knot.  I 
rushed  to  the  window.  It  was  fastened  down  and 
securely  barred.  All  escape  that  way  seemed  im- 
possible. I  stamped,  I  thundered  against  the 
door,  the  floor.  I  broke  the  panes  themselves  to 
pieces,  and  shouted  aloud  through  the  aperture. 
But  no  voice  answered.  My  words  seemed  lost  in 
vastness  and  vacuity.  No  one  came  near  me.  I 
was  left  to  my  own  reflections.  Oh  !  how  I  raved 
and  roared.  My  passion  was  frightful — but  I  was 
powerless.  I  could  do  nothing.  I  strove  to  get 
at  the  lamp,  at  the  fire,  that  I  might  burn  the 
house  and  take  my  chance  of  an  escape  during 
the  tumult.  But  even  here  I  was  baffled.  In  a 
word,  I  could  devise  no  method  of  getting  out, 
and  the  agony  of  thought  was  worse  than  mad- 
ness. At  length  I  threw  myself  on  the  floor,  and 
sobbed  myself  to  sleep.  To  sleep — aye  and  to 
dream — but  those  were  nightmare  dreams  of 
horror. 

I  slept  about  an  hour.  When  I  awoke  I  could 
scarcely  think  that  last  night's  scene  was  real.  It 
was  now  day.     I  started  up.     I  was  still  dressed. 

o  3 


282  EDWARD   WORTLEY   MONTAGU. 

I  looked  around ;  the  lamp  still  faintly  burned  ; 
the  fire  was  expiring  slowly.  I  saw  that  it  was 
all  true.  I  was  a  prisoner.  Why  ?  Wherefore  ? 
This  I  could  not  answer.  Dom  Balthazar  occurred 
to  me.  But  why  should  he  imprison  me  ?  This 
was  not  the  way  to  get  a  reward  from  a  loving, 
heartbroken,  dovelike  pair  of  parents  such  as  I 
had.  I  rejected  the  thought.  But  then  was  it 
not  a  contrivance  to  secure  me  so  as  to  practice 
against  Francesca  ?  I  started  to  my  feet  at  the 
su^restion.  Yes — this  it  was — this  it  was — the 
secret  was  out.  T  am  undone — and  she  ? — oh  !  I 
was  like  a  wild  beast.  I  roared,  I  raved,  I  raged 
against  my  prison.  They  will  decoy  her — they 
will  bear  her  away — she  will  be  murdered — and 
I — am  powerless.  After  a  wild  paroxysm,  I  must 
have  fallen  insensible,  for  when  I  recovered 
I  found  food  placed  near  me — bread  and  water — 
but  I  regarded  it  not.  The  pangs  of  hunger  had 
not  yet  seized  me.  My  mental  sufferings  were 
now  at  fever  heat.  Reader  !  will  you  believe  it  ? 
I  lay  in  this  place  for  three  whole  months.  I  saw 
no  one  but  servants.  I  was  denied  paper,  or 
pens,  or  ink ;  to  my  questions  I  received  no 
answer.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I  was  free.  I 
flew  as  if  on  wings  to  the  place  where  I  had  left 
Francesca,  hoping  against  hope  that  I  should  find 
her  there.      She  was  gone — the  people  of  the 


EDWARD   WORTLEY  MONTAGU.  283 

house  knew  nothing  of  her.  She  had  received  a 
letter  the  morning  after  I  had  been  seized.  She 
sat  up  for  me  the  whole  nigh t-^ poor  girl  ? — wild, 
wondering,  agitated.  In  the  morning  a  letter 
was  brought  from  Mr.  Smith.  She  opened  and 
read  it ;  she  danced  with  joy.  Oh  !  I  am  going 
to  him,  she  said.  She  dressed  and  left  the  house  ; 
she  had  never  returned.  I  rushed  upstairs — the 
room  was  as  I  had  left  it.  There  was  the  bed  un- 
lain  on — the  withered  violets — the  little  trunk 
which  contained  our  all  in  the  corner — the  volume 
of  Tasso  which  she  had  been  reading,  open  and 
turned  down,  just  as  she  had  left  it  in  her  hurry. 
My  papers  were  untouched ;  my  few  books  still 
ready  for  my  hand  in  the  usual  place.  All  re- 
minded me  of  her,  and  my  irreparable  loss.  I 
looked  into  the  people's  eyes  for  tidings.  Alas  ! 
they  could  give  none.  I  felt  my  heart  sicken ; 
my  brain  turned  round.  I  fell  down  in  con- 
vulsions. 

Five  weeks  passed.  The  crisis  of  my  fever  was 
gone.  In  my  frenzy  I  had  revealed  all — my  real 
name  and  rank — Francesca's  rights — my  fearful 
sufferings.  When  I  recovered,  I  was  in  a  room 
which  I  thought  I  knew  again.  A  nurse  was 
sitting  at  my  bedside.  She  put  her  hand  to  her 
lips  and  made  a  sign  to  be  still.  I  lay  down. 
This,  said  I,  also  is  a  dream.     It  is  like  my  old 


284       EDWARD  WORTLEY  MONTAGU. 

room  at  Twickenham — but  this  cannot  be.  Yet 
it  was.  For  a  few  days  I  was  better — I  rapidly 
recovered.  I  was  well.  Lady  Mary  came  into 
my  room.  She  looked  at  me  coldly,  and  said — 
u  So  you  have  come  back.  We  thought  you 
were  dead  long  ago.  We  did  not  know  you  had 
been  a  madman.  What  do  you  mean  to  do  with 
yourself?" 


NOTES. 


Note  Q. — Chapter  XVIII.,  P.  7l. — Sophia  of  Halle. 
— During  her  whole  confinement  she  behaved  with  no  less 
mildness  than  dignity,  and  on  receiving  the  sacrament  once 
every  week  never  omitted  on  that  awful  occasion  making 
the  most  solemn  asseverations  that  she  was  not  guilty  of 
the  crime  laid  to  her  charge.  Subsequent  circumstances 
have  come  to  light  which  appear  to  justify  her  memory,  and 
reports  are  current  at  Hanover  that  her  character  was 
basely  defamed,  and  that  she  fell  a  sacrifice  to  the  jealousy 
and  perfidy  of  the  Countess  of  Platen,  favourite  mistress  of 
Ernest  Augustus,  George  the  First's  father.  Being  en- 
amoured of  Count  Konigsmark,  who  slighted  her  overtures, 
jealousy  took  possession  of  her  breast;  she  determined  to 
sacrifice  both  the  lover  and  the  princess  to  her  vengeance, 
and  circumstances  favoured  her  design. 

Those  who  exculpate  Sophia,  assert  either  that  a  common 
visit  was  construed  into  an  act  of  criminality,  or  that  the 
Countess  of  Platen,  at  a  late  hour,  summoned  Count 
Konigsmark  in  the  name  of  the  princess,  though  without 
her  connivance ;  and  that  on  being  introduced  Sophia  was 
surprised  at  his  intrusion ;  that  on  leaving  the  apartment 
he  was  discovered  by  Ernest  Augustus,  whom  the  countess 
had  placed  in  the  gallery,  and  was  instantly  assassinated 
by  persons  whom  she  had  suborned  for  that  purpose. 

It  is  impossible  at  this  distance  of  time  to  discover  and 
trace  the  circumstances  of  this  mysterious  transaction,  at 
which  no  person  at  the  Court  of  Hanover  durst  at  that  time 
deliver  his  opinion.  But  the  sudden  murder  of  Count 
Konigsmark  may  be  urged  as  a  corroboration  of  this 
statement,  for  had  his  guilt  and  that  of  Sophia  been  un- 


11.  NOTES. 

equivocal,  would  he  not  have  been  arrested  and  brought  to 
a  trial  for  the  purpose  of  proving  their  connection,  and 
confronting  him  with  the  unfortunate  princess  ? 

Many  persons  of  credit  at  Hanover  have  not  scrupled, 
since  the  death  of  Ernest  Augustus  and  George  the  First, 
to  express  their  belief  that  the  imputation  cast  on  Sophia 
was  false  and  unjust  It  is  also  reported  that  her  husband 
having  made  an  offer  of  reconciliation,  she  jjave  this  disdain- 
ful  answer:  "  If  what  I  am  accused  of  is  true,  I  am  un- 
worthy of  his  bed ;  and  if  my  accusation  is  false,  he  is 
unworthy  of  mine.     I  will  not  accept  his  offer." 

George  the  Second  was  fully  convinced  of  his  mother's 
innocence.  He  once  made  an  attempt  to  see  her,  and  even 
crossed  the  Aller  on  horseback,  opposite  to  the  Castle,  but 
was  prevented  from  having  an  interview  by  the  Baron  de 
Bulow,  to  whose  care  the  Elector,  her  husband,  had  com- 
mitted her.  Had  she  survived  his  accession,  he  intended 
to  restore  her  to  liberty,  and  acknowledge  her  as  Queen 
Dowager.  He  secretly  kept  her  portrait  in  his  possession, 
and  the  morning  after  the  news  of  the  death  of  Georire  the 
First  had  reached  London,  Mr.  Howard  observed  (in  the 
antechamber  of  the  new  King's  apartment)  a  picture  of  a 
woman  in  the  electoral  robes,  which  proved  to  be  that  of 
Sophia. 

George  the  Second  told  Queen  Caroline  that  in  making 
some  repairs  in  the  Palace  of  Hanover,  the  bones  of  Count 
Koniusmark  were  found  under  the  floor  of  the  antechamber, 
which  led  to  the  apartment  of  Sophia.  The  Queen  men- 
tioned this  fact  to  Sir  Robert  Walpole,  and  in  various  con- 
versations which  she  held  on  this  subject,  she  appeared 
fully  convinced  of  her  innocence. — Coxe's   Walpole. 

Note  R.  —  Chapter  XXIV.,  P.  207.  —  Lord 
Chesterfield. — For  some  years  previous  to  the  death 
of  George  I.,  Chesterfield  had  been  the  favourite 
among  many  suitors  for  the  hand  of  his  Majesty's 
daughter,  by  Schulenberg,  created  in  her  own  right, 
Countess  of  Walsingham,  and  considered  as  \o\vz  M  her 
father  lived,  as  likely  to  turn  out  one  of  the  wealthiest 
heiresses  in  the  kingdom.  Her  mother  wished  her  to  be 
George  IPs.  mistress,  but  this  was  rather  too  strong,  even 
for  him.  Perhaps  also  Queen  Caroline,  who  was  in  all  other 
respects  so  accommodating,  thought  that  her  husband 
might  do  better  than  with  his  own  supposed  half  sister. 
George  I.  opposed  himself  to  the  young  lady's  subsequent 


NOTES.  111. 

inclinations  for  C,  in  consequence,  it  was  said,  of  Chester- 
field's notorious  addiction  to  gambling.  She  took  her  own 
way,  as  ladies  usually  do,  so  soon  as  circumstances  per- 
mitted :  — Lady  Walsingham  became  Lady  Chesterfield. 
Chesterfield's  house  in  Grosvenor  Square  was  next  door  to 
the  Duchess  of  Kendal's  (Madame  Schulenberg),  and  from 
this  time  he  was  domesticated  with  the  mother  as  well  as 
the  daughter,*  The  ancient  mistress  suggested  and  stimu- 
lated legal  measures  respecting  a  will  of  George  I.,  which 
George  II.,  was  said  to  have  suppressed  and  destroyed,  and 
by  which,  as  the  Duchess  alleged,  the  late  King  had  made 
a  splendid  provision  for  Lady  Walsingham ;  and  at  last, 
rather  than  submit  to  a  judicial  examination  of  the  affair. 
George  II.  compromised  the  suit  bv  a  payment  of  £20,000 
to  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Chesterfield. 

It  may  be  thought  unlikely  that  so  utterly  selfish  a  man  as 
Chesterfield  would  take  this  trouble  about  an  election  in  the 
country.  The  following  anecdote,  mentioned  by  his  biogra- 
pher, will  show  to  what  lengths  he  proceeded  for  the  sake  of 

a  vote  : — "The  late  Lord  R  ,  with  many  good  qualities 

and  even  learning  and  parts,  had  a  strong  desire  of  being 
thought  skilful  in  physic,  and  was  very  expert  in  bleeding. 
Lord  Chesterfield,  who  knew  his  foible,  and  on  a  particular 
occasion  wished  to  have  his  vote,  came  to  him  one  morning, 
and  after  having  conversed  upon  indifferent  matters  com- 
plained of  the  headache,  and  desired  his  lordship  to  feel  his 
pulse.  It  was  found  to  beat  high,  and  a  hint  of  losing  blood 
given.  'I  have  no  objection,  and  as  I  hear  your  lordship 
has  a  masterly  hand,  will  you  try  your  lancet  upon  me  V 
'Apropos,'  said  Lord  Chesterfield,  after  the  operation,   'do 

you  go  to  the  House  to-day  ?'     Lord  R answered,   'i 

did  not  intend  to  go,  not  being  sufficiently  informed  of  the 
question  which  is  to  be  debated,  but  you,  who  have  considered 
it,  which  side  will  you  be  of?'  The  earl  having  gained  his 
confidence,  easily  directed  his  judgment  ;  he  carried  him  to 
the  House,  and  got  him  to  vote  as  he  pleased.  He  used 
afterwards  to  say  that  none  of  his  friends  had  done  as  much 
as  he,  having  literally  bled  for  the  good  of  his  country." — 
Life,  vol.  1,  p.  131. 

»  Dr.  Maty,  Chesterfield's  biographer,  alluding  to  this,  says  t— "  He  divided 
his  time  between  his  business  in  his  own  house,  and  his  attentions  and  duties 
at  the  other.  Minerva  presided  in  the  first,  and  in  the  last  Apollo  with  the 
Muses."  But  how  came  Apollo  and  the  Muses  to  dwell  with  old  Schulen- 
berg  ?    Her  only  companion  was  George  I.  transformed  into  a  Haven. 


IV.  NOTES. 

This  noble  lord  used  to  relate  the  following  story,  which 
Mr.  Carruthers,  in  his  life  of  Pope,  say.-  is  "incredible."  It 
appears  almost  "  incredible  "  that  these  fine  gentlemen  and 
wits  should  live  in  such  an  atmosphere  of  falsehoods.  "I 
went,"  he  says,  "  to  Pope  one  morning  at  Twickenham,  and 
found  a  large  folio  Bible,  with  gilt  clasps,  lying  before  him  on 
his  table,  and  as  1  knew  his  way  of  thinking  upon  that  book,  I 
asked  him  jocosely  if  he  was  going  to  write  an  answer  to  it  ? 
4  It  is  a  present,'  said  he,  '  or  rather  a  legacy,  from  my  old 
friend  the  Bishop  of  Rochester.  I  went  to  take  my  leave  of 
him  yesterday  in  the  Tower,  when  I  saw  this  Bible  upon  the 
table.  The  Bishop  said  to  me,  "My  friend  Pope,  consider- 
ing your  infirmities  and  my  age  and  exile,  it  is  not  likely  we 
should  ever  meet  again,  and  therefore  I  give  you  this  legacy 
to  remember  me  by.  Take  it  home  with  you,  and  let  me 
advise  you  to  abide  by  it."  "Does your  lordship  abide  by  it 
yourself?"  "  I  do.-'  "If  you  do,  my  lord,  it  is  but  lately  ; 
may  I  beg  to  know  what  new  lights  or  arguments  have  pre- 
vailed with  you  now  to  entertain  an  opinion  so  contrary  to 
that  which  you  entertained  of  that  book  all  the  former  part 
of  your  life  ?"  The  Bishop  replied,  "  AVe  have  not  time  to 
talk  of  these  things  ;  but  take  home  the  book  I  will  abide 
by  it,  and  I  recommend  you  to  do  so  too ;  and  so  God  bless 
you.''  "The  tenor,  tone,  and  dates  of  Atterbury's  cor- 
respondence," adds  Carruthers,  "all  refute  this  story."  But 
why  did  Chesterfield  invent  such  a  lie  ?  What  was  his  ob- 
ject in  representing  the  Bishop  as  a  disbeliever  in  the  Bible? 
It  makes  one  think  of  Dr.  Colenso's  strange  assertion,  "that 
all  the  bishops  entertain  the  same  ideas  as  himsell,  but  are 
afraid  to  make  them  public."  A  famous  scholar  and  divine 
of  the  last  century,  Dr.  Middleton,  a  notorious  disbeliever, 
subscribed  the  thirty-nine  articles  politically  merely  to  ob- 
tain the  living  of  Ilascombe,  though  he  was  a  man  of  good 
fortune,  and  he  thus  apologises  for  it:  ''Though  there  are 
many  things  in  the  Church  which  I  wholly  dislike,  yet  while 
I  am  content  to  acquiesce  in  the  ill,  I  should  be  glad  to  taste 
a  little  of  the  good;  and  to  have  some  amends  for  the  ugly 
assent  and  consent,  which  no  man  of  sense  can  appro\ 
Heading  over  these  things  and  considering  the  crimes  which 
are  thus  daily  committed  for  the  sake  of  a  little  distinction 
one  is  reminded  of  what  Pope  Urban  the  Eighth  said  of 
Cardinal  Richelieu,  "  Se  gli  t  un  Dio  lo  pagara :  ma  verawente 
se  non  e  Dio  e  galant  no/no."  If  there  be  a  God,  he  will  pay 
for  it;  but  if  there  be  not  a  God,  he  is  a  fine  fellow  !     The 


NOTES.  T. 

Pope's  own  language  leaves  some  doubt  on  the  mind  whether 
His  Holiness  himself  had  any  very  decided  belief.  He  who 
regards  the  world  as  it  is  can  hardly  be  persuaded  that  any 
one  really  believes  in  a  future,  though  outwardly  everything 
goes  on,  as  if  there  were  nothing  more  certain. 

The  "  Quarterly  Review  "   (Earl  Stanhope  probably)  in 
commenting  on  this  man's  infamous  letters  to  his  son,  says  : 
— "We   give  Lord  Chesterfield  full  credit  for  his  parental 
zeal  and  anxiety  ;  in  this  respect  he  was  very  amiable ;  but 
we  are  afraid  he  went   to  his  grave — he  certainly  drew  up 
his  last  will — without  ever  having  reflected  seriously  on  the 
nature  of  his  own  dealings  with   his  son's  mother,  or  on — to 
speak  of  nothing  more  serious  still — the  personal,  domestic, 
and  social  mischiefs  inevitably  consequent   on  the  sort  of 
conduct  which  his  precept  as  well  as  his   example  held  up 
for  the  imitation  of  his  own  base-born  boy.     By  his  will  he 
leaves  five  hundred  pounds  to   Madame  de   Bouchet,    '  as 
some  recompense  for  the  injury  he  had  done  her.'      The 
story  we  believe  to  have  been  this.       About  a  year  before 
Chesterfield's  marriage,  when  he  was  ambassador  in  Holland, 
he  was  the  great  lion,  and,  moreover,  the    Cupidon  dechaine 
of  the  Hague.       Rome  of  his  adventures  excited  in  a  parti- 
cular manner  the  horror  of  an  accomplished  Frenchwoman 
of  gentle  birth,  who  was  living  there  as  dame  de  compagnie 
to  two  or  three  Dutch  girls — orphans,  heiresses,  and  beau- 
ties.    Her  eloquent  denunciations  of  his  audacious  practices, 
and  her  obvious  alarm   lest  any  of  her  fair  charges  should 
happen  to  attract  his  attention,  were  communicated  some- 
how to  the  dazzling  ambassador ;  and  he  made  a  let  that  he 
would  seduce  herself  first,  and  then  the  prettiest  of  her  pupils. 
With  the  duenna,  at  least,he succeeded.     She  seems  to  have 
resided  ever  afterwards  in  or  near  London,  in  the  obscurest 
retirement  and  solitude — cut   off  for    ever  from   country, 
family,  and  friends.       Five  hundred  pounds  recompense  ! 
Five  hundred  pounds  from  one  of  the  wealthiest  lords  in 
England,  who   had   no  children — Philip  himself  had  died 
some  years  before — and  whose  vast  property  was  entirely  at 
his  own  disposal.      It  is  satisfactory  to  add  that  she  refused 
the  recompense."     In  the  magnificent  mansion  which  the 
Earl  erected  in  Audley  Street,  you  may  still  see  his  favourite 
apartments  furnished  and  decorated  as  he  left  them — among 
the  rest  what  he  boasted  of  as  "the  tinest  room  in  London," 
and  perhaps  even  now  it  remains  unsurpassed,  his  spacious 
and  beautiful  library  looking  on  the  finest  private  garden  in 

VOL.   II.  P 


u 


VI.  NOTES. 

London.  The  walls  are  covered  halfway  up  with  rich  and 
classical  stores  of  literature.  Above  the  cases  are  in  close 
series  the  portraits  of  eminent  authors — French  and  English 
— with  most  of  whom  he  had  conversed;  over  these,  and 
immediately  under  the  massive  cornice,  extend  all  round  in 
foot-long  capitals  the  Horatian  lines — 

NUNC  VETERUM  LIBRI8  NUNC  SOMNO  ET  INERTIBU8  HORI8 
DUCERE    SOLICITS    JUCUNDA    OBLIVIA    VIT^E. 

On  the  mantel  pieces  and  cabinets  stand  busts  of  old  orators, 
interspersed  with  voluptuous  vases  and  bronzes,  antique,  or 
Italian,  and  airy  statuettes  of  opera  nymphs.  We  shall 
never  recall  that  princely  room  without  fancying  Chester- 
field receiving  in  it  a  visit  of  his  only  child's  mother— while 
probably  some  new  victim  or  accomplice  was  sheltered  in  the 
dim  mysterious  little  boudoir  within — which  still  remains 
also  in  its  original  blue  damask  and  fretted  gold  work,  as 
described  to  Madame  de  Moncouseil.  Did  this  scene  of 
"  sweet  forgetfulnesi  ''  rise  before  Mrs.  Norton's  vision  when 
she  framed  that  sadly  beautiful  episode  of  the  faded  broken- 
hearted mistress,  reproaching  in  his  library  amidst  the  busts 
of  bard,  and  ora'  ors,  and  sages,  the 

"  Protestant  and  protesting  gentleman," 

who  had  robbed   her  innocence   and  blasted  her  life? — 
Quart.  Rev.,  vol  76,  pp.  483,  484. 

So  far,  Earl  Stanhope.     But  his  allusion  to  Mrs.  Norton 
is  hardly  fortunate,  as  those  will  say  whenever  the  Autobio- 
graphy of  Rosina,  Lady  Lytton,  the  most  singular,  eloquent, 
earnest,  and  pathetic  work  in  the  English  language,  comes 
to  be  published,  as  no  doubt  it  one  day  will.     The  writer  of 
these  notes  has  read  it — read  it,  he  may  confess,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  and  with  the  deepest  sympathy  for  a  woman  of 
wonderful  genius.     The  Duke  of   Wellington  was  accus- 
tomed to  say  when  his  dispatches  were  published  in  their 
entirety,  that  many  statues  would   come  down  ;   the  same 
may  be  declared  when  the  tragic  life  of  this  much  injured  lady 
shall  have  been  presented  to  the  public.     A  great  many 
false  masks  will  then  be  pulled  off,  and  the  virtuous  people 
of  our  own  time  will  figure  in  the  same  gallery  with  those 
of  the  apostolic  age  of  George  I.  and  George  II. 

Whether  Chesterfield,  says  the  writer  just  cited,  had  the 
satisfaction  of  making  his  filial  pupil  either  a  libertine  or  an 


NOTES.  VU. 

infidel  we  have  no  sufficient  evidence.  We  suppose  there  is 
no  question  that  the  noble  tutor  failed  in  his  grand  object  of 
social  elegance,  and  that  as  Chesterfield  had  for  his  father  a 
saturnine  Jacobite,  so  he  had  a  pedantic  sloven  for  his  son. 
But  we  hope  these  lines,  which  we  take  from  the  fly  leaf  of 
a  friend's  copy  of  the  fifth  edition  of  the  letters  (1774),  the 
handwriting  unknown  to  that  friend,  though  he  is  well 
skilled  in  such  matters,  have  no  merit  but  their  point : — 

"  Vile  Stanhope— demons  blush  to  tell ; 

In  twice  two  hundred  places 
Has  shown  his  son  the  road  to  hell, 

Escorted  by  the  Graces  ; 
But  little  did  the  ungenerous  lad 

Concern  himself  about  them, 
For  base,  degenerate,  meanly  bad — 

He  sneaked  to  hell  without  them." 

Of  his  wife  the  reviewer  says  :  "  Her  birth  was,  according 
to  the  now  obsolete  notions  of  that  time,  an  illustrious  dis- 
tinction, to  -  hich  were  added  a  peerage  in  her  own  right,  a 
handsome  :  'tune,  the  prospect  of  a  great  one,  and  unless 
her  painters  rivalled  her  lovers,  no  common  share  of  beauty. 
In  truth,  that  this  tall,  dark-haired,  graceful  woman  sprung 
from  the  amours  of  a  Hanoverian  King  and  a  Dutch  built 
concubine  seems  to  us,  after  all,  very  doubtful.  These 
pretensions  and  advantages,  however,  were  all  hers,  when 
she  selected  Chesterfield  from  a  host  of  suitors ;  and  cer- 
tainly during  the  flower  of  her  life  and  his  own,  he  was  a 
most  profligate  husband." — Quart  Eev.,  vol.  76,  pp.  486, 
487. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Lord  Stanhope,  who  could  tell  so 
much  and  who  has  so  thoroughly  honest  a  mind,  has  not 
completed  his  edition  of  Chesterfield's  letters  by  a  plain 
outspoken  memoir  of  that  eminent  ornament  of  our  country, 
and  his  no  less  excellent  friends  and  conirojmes. 

Note  S. — Chapter  XXIV.,  P.  213. — Lord  Scar- 
borough.— This  man  was  one  of  Lord  Chesterfield's  set. 
He  destroyed  himself  in  the  most  deliberate  manner ;  being 
in  the  most  perfect  possession  of  his  faculties.  In  the  morn- 
ing he  paid  a  long  visit  to  Lord  Chesterfield,  and  opened 
himself  to  him  with  great  earnestness  on  many  subjects.  It 
happened  in  the  course  of  the  conversation  that  something 
was  spoken  of  which  related  to  Sir  William  Temple's  nego- 
tiations, and  the  two  friends  not  agreeing  about  the  circum- 
stances, Lord  Chesterfield,  whose  memory  at  all  times  was 
remarkably  good,  referred  Lord  Scarborough  to  the  page  of 


Vlll.  NOTES. 

Sir  William's  memoirs  where  the  matter  was  mentioned. 
After  his  lordship's  death,  the  book  was  found  open  at  that 
very  page.  His  body,  in  fact,  was  found  surrounded  with 
several  volumes  which  he  had  brought  into  the  room,  and 
piled  about  him  with  the  pistol  in  his  mouth.  These 
volumes  treated  of  self-destruction,  and  it  was  generally 
reported  at  the  time  that  his  conversation  with  Chesterfield 
mainly  related  to  a  question  of  a  future,  and  that  Chester- 
field ridiculed  the  notion  as  being  absurd.  He  was  to  have 
been  married  the  following  day,  to  Isabella,  the  widow  of 
William,  Duke  of  Manchester,  a  woman  celebrated  for  her 
beauty.  Lady  Mary,  in  a  letter  to  Lady  Pomfret,  thus 
alludes  to  the  suicide  : — "  Have  you  not  reasoned  much  on 
the  surprising  conclusion  of  Lord  Scarborough.  *  *  I  am 
most  inclined  to  superstition  in  this  accident,  and  think  it  a 
judgment  for  the  death  of  a  poor  silly  soul,  that  you  know 
he  caused  some  years  ago."  Lord  Wharncliffe  says  that 
Lady  Kingston,  to  whom  Scarborough  b  haved  with  the 
most  unfeeling  and  savage  falsehood  and  cj  Ity,  is  meant ; 
she  was  Lady  Mary's  sister.  The  annotate?  has  reason  to 
believe  that  his  conduct  to  poor  Howe  had  something  also 
to  do  with  his  remorse.  Had  we  the  whole  of  Lady  Mary's 
correspondence,  this  matter  doubtless  would  have  been 
cleared  up. 

"  I  have  discovered,"  say9  Israel  dTsraeli,  "  that  a  con- 
siderable correspondence  of  Lady  Mary's,  for  more  than 
twenty  years'  with  the  widow  of  Colonel  Forester,  who  had 
retired  to  Rome,  has  been  stifled  in  the  birth.  These  letters, 
with  other  MSS.  of  Lady  Mary,  were  given  by  Mrs. 
Forester  to  Philip  Thicknesse,  with  a  discretionary  power  to 
publish.  They  were  held  as  a  great  acquisition  by  Thick- 
nesse and  his  bookseller  ;  but  when  they  had  printed  olf  the 
first  thousand  sheets,  there  were  parts  which  they  con- 
sidered  might  give  pain  to  some  of  the  family.  Thicknesse 
says,  "  Lady  Mary  had  been  in  many  places  uncommonly 
severe  upon  her  husband,  for  all  her  letters  were  loaded 
with  a  scraj)  or  two  of  poetry  at  him.  There  was  one  pas- 
sage which  he  recollected — 


o 


"  Just  left  my  bed,  a  lifeless  trunk, 
And  searce  a  dreaming  head.'' 


A  negotiation  took  place  with  an  agent  of  Lord  Bute's. 
After  some  time  Miss  Forester  put  in  her  claims  for  the 
manuscripts,  and  the  whole  terminated  as  Thicknesse  tells  us, 


NOTES.  IX. 

in  her  obtaining  a  pension,  and  Lord  Bute  all  the  MSS. 
Curiosities  of  Literature.  The  reader  cannot  fail  to  admire 
this  arrangement,  by  which  Lord  Bute,  with  £1,350,000  of 
Mr.  "W.  Montagu's  money,  does  not  himself  purchase  the 
manuscripts  of  his  mother-in  law,  but  makes  the  British 
public  pay  for  them,  by  giving  a  pension  to  their  possessor. 
These  letters  would  have  thrown  great  light  on  the  times  and 
their  public  characters  ;  no  wonder  that  history  has  been 
called  "a  liar;"  it  is  compounded  of  things  that  appear  to 
the  public,  but  which  are  wholly  different  from  things  as 
they  are. 

Thanks  also  to  the  zeal  of  executors  ;  we  know  but  little 
of  the  real  facts  that  cause  all  history;  but  the  external  fea- 
tures that  seem  to  cause  it  we  well  know.  The  result  is 
perpetual  delusion,  which  seems,  indeed,  to  be  the  condition 
of  all  things  in  this  terrestrial  orb.  The  date  of  the  corres- 
pondence with  the  Forresters  is  not  given.  We  shall  never 
now  know  the  thousand  miseries  which  Lady  Mary  endured 
with  her  spouse.  In  1722  she  was  so  badly  off  as  to  be 
selling  her  diamonds.  Soon  after  she  says,  "  I  run  about 
though  I  have  five  thousand  pins  and  needles  running  into 
my  heart."  I  doubt  if  she  ever  had  a  happy  clay,  for  in  a 
letter  from  Rome  to  Lady  Pomfret  she  says,  "If  among  the 
fountains  I  could  find  the  waters  of  Lethe  I  should  be  com- 
pletely happy : — 

"  Like  a  deer  that  is  wounded  I  bleed  and  run  on, 
And  fain  I  my  torment  would  hide, 
But  alas  ;  'tis  in  vain,  for  wherever  I  run, 
The  bloody  dart  sticks  in  my  side." 

And  I  carry  the  serpent  that  poisons  the  paradise  I  am  in.'' 
These  are  not  the  only  memorials  of  Lady  Mary  which 
the   Butes   destroyed.       After  Lord  Hervey's   death,    his 
eldest  son,  sealed   up   and   sent  her  letters  to  his  father, 
with   an  assurance  that  none   of  them  had  been  read   or 
opened.     The  late  Lord  Orford  affirmed  that  Sir   Robert 
Walpole  did  the  same  with  regard  to  these  she  had  written 
to  his  second  wife  (Skerrett).      That  dessous  des  cartes,  says 
Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  who  had  probably  seen  these  letters,  or 
hear  1  of  ihem  from  her  mother,  would  here   have  betrayed 
that  Lord  and  Lady  Hervey  had  lived  together  upon  very 
amicable  terms,  "as  well  bred  as  if  not  married  at  all,"  ac- 
cording to  the  demands  of  Mrs.  Millimant  in  the  play ;  but 
without  any  strong  sympathies,   and  more  like  a  French 

p  3 


X.  NOTES. 

couple  than  an  English  one.  *  *  At  the  time  of  Lady 
Mary  Wortley's  return  home,  Lady  Hervey  was  living  in 
great  intimacy  with  Lady  Bute.  On  hearing  of  her  mother's 
arrival  she  came  to  her,  owning  herself  embarrassed  by  the 
fear  of  giving  her  pain  or  offence,  but  yet  compelled  to  de- 
clare that  formerly  something  had  passed  betweeen  her  and 
Lady  Mary  which  made  any  renewal  of  their  acquaintance 
impossible.  No  explanation  followed.  But  surely  the  real 
reason  must  have  been  well  known  to  Lady  Bute.  There 
was  no  love  lost  between  this  beautiful  pair.  In  1725  Lady 
Mary  writes  : — "  Lady  Hervey  and  Lady  Bristol  have  quar- 
relled in  such  a  polite  manner,  that  they  have  given  one 
another  all  the  titles  so  liberally  bestowed  amongst  the 
ladies  at  Billingsgate."  *  *  *  Again:  "Lady  Hervey 
makes  the  top  figure  in  town,  and  is  so  good  as  to  show 
twice  a  week  at  the  drawing-room,  and  twice  more  at  the 
opera  for  the  entertainment  of  the  public."  *  *  *  Again 
in  1739;  "The  melancholy  catastrophe  of  poor  Lady  Letch- 
mere  is  too  extraordinary  not  to  attract  the  attention  of  every 
body.  After  having  played  away  her  reputation  and  for- 
tune, she  has  poisoned  herself.  *  *  Lady  Hervey,  by 
aiming  too  high,  has  fallen  very  low,  and  is  reduced  to  try- 
ing to  persuade  folks  she  has  an  intrigue,  and  gets  nobody 
to  believe  her,  the  man  in  question  taking  a  great  de  1  of 
pains  to  clear  himself  of  the  scandal. ''  There  was  a  Mrs. 
Murray,  who  was  well  acquainted  with  both,  and  who  seems 
to  have  known  a  little  of  Lady  Mary.  We  find  the  k;ter 
writing  about  her  to  her  sister  in  1726: — "Mrs.  Murray 
is  in  open  wars  with  me,  in  such  a  manner  as  makes  her  very 
ridiculous  without  doing  me  much  harm.  Firstly,  she  was 
pleased  to  attack  me  in  very  Billingsgate  language  at  a 
masquerade,  where  she  was  as  visible  as  ever  she  was  in  her 
own  clothes.  1  had  the  temper  not  only  to  keep  silence  my- 
self, but  enjoined  it  to  the  person*  with  me,  who  would  have 
been  very  glad  to  have  shown  his  great  skill  in  rousing 
upon  that  occasion.  She  endeavoured  to  sweeten  him  by 
very  exorbitant  praises  of  his  person,  which  might  even 
have  been  mistaken  for  making  love  from  a  woman  of  less 
celebrated  virtue,  and  concluded  her  oration  with  pious 
warnings  to  him  to  avoid  the  company  of  one  so  un- 
worthy his  regard  as  myself,  lofto,  to  her  certain  knowledge. 


•  Who  was  this  person?     Was   it  Lord  Hervey  J— for  Mrs  Murray  was  a 
great  friend  of  Lady  II.,  and  may  have  been  set  upon  Lady  Mary. 


NOTES.  XI. 

loved  another  man.  This  last  article,  I  own,  piqued  me  more 
than  all  her  preceding  civilities."  We  are  not  told  who 
this  favoured  gentleman  was.  Some  short  time  before,  my 
lady  had  written — "  There  are  but  three  pretty  men  in 
England,  and  they  are  all  in  love  with  me  at  this  present 
writing.''  Mr.  Wortley  Montagu,  senior,  was  probably  not 
one  of  these  "pretty  men."  One  hardly  knows  whether 
most  to  pity,  to  scorn,  or  to  laugh  at  him. 

The  following  melancholy  picture  of  Lady  Mary  is  drawn 
by  her  own  hand,  under  the  date  1736  : — 

"  With  toilsome  steps  I  passed  through  life's  dull  road, 
No  pack  horse  half  so  weary  of  his  load ; 
And  when  this  dirty  journey  shall  conclude, 
To  what  new  realms  is  then  my  way  pursued  ? 
Say  then  does  the  embodied  spirit  fly 
To  happier  climes  and  to  a  better  sky? 
Or  sinking,  mixes  with  its  kindred  clay, 
And  sleeps  a  whole  eternity  away  ? 
Or  shall  this  form  be  once  again  renewed, 
With  all  its  frailties,  all  its  hopes  endued  ? 
Acting  once  more  on  this  detested  stage, 
Passions  of  youth,  infirmities  of  age 
I  see  m  Tully  what  the  ancients  thought, 
And  read  unprejudiced  what  moderns  taught ; 
But  no  conviction  from  my  reading  springs — 
Most  dubious  on  the  most  important  things. 
Yet  one  short  moment  would  at  once  explain, 
What  all  philosophy  has  sought  in  vain  ; 
Would  clear  all  doubt  and  terminate  all  pain. 
Why  then  not  hasten  that  decisive  hour, 
StUl  in  ray  view  and  ever  in  my  power? 
Why  should  I  drag  along  this  life  I  hate, 
Without  one  thought  to  mitigate  the  weight  ? 
Whence  this  mysterious  bearing  to  exist, 
When  every  joy  is  lost,  and  every  hope  dismissed  ; 
In  chains,  in  darkness,  wherefore  should  I  stay, 
And  mourn  in  prison  whilst  I  keep  the  key  P" 

These  verses  were  given  by  Lady  Mary  to  Lady  Pomfret, 
who  sent  a  copy  of  them  to  her  correspondent  Lady  Hert- 
ford.    That  lady's  reply  was  as  follows: — 

"  My  dear  Lady  Pomfret,  Lady  Mary  Wortley"  s  verses 
have  a  wit  and  strength  that  appear  in  all  her  writings,  but 
her  mind  must  have  been  in  a  very  melancholy  disposition 
when  she  composed  them.  I  hope  it  was  only  a  gloomy 
hour,  which  soon  blew  over  to  make  way  for  more  cheerful 
prospects.  If  I  had  been  near  her  then  I  should  have  per- 
suaded her  to  look  into  the  New  Testament,  in  hopes  that  it 
might  have  afforded  her  the  conviction  which  she  sought  in 
vain  from  Tuliy  and  other  authors.  She  has  so  much  judg- 
ment and  penetration,  that  I  am  satisfied  if  the  Scriptures 


Xll.  NOTES. 

were  to  become  the  subject  of  her  contemplation,  and  if  she 
would  read  them  with  the  same  attention  and  impartiality 
that  she  does  any  other  books  of  knowledge,  they  would 
disperse  a  thousand  mists  which,  without  such  assistance, 
will  too  certainly  hang  upon  the  finest  understandings." 

Lady  Pomfret  did  not  share  her  correspondent's  hopes, 
for  in  reply  she  says  : — 

M  What  a  pity  and  terror  does  it  create  to  see  wit,  beauty, 
nobility,  and  riches,  after  a  full  possession  of  fifty  years,  talk 
that  language,  and  talk  it  so  feelingly  that  all  who  read  must 
know  that  it  comes  from  the  heart.  But,  indeed,  dear 
madam,  you  make  me  smile  when  you  proposed  putting  the 
New  Testament  into  the  hands  of  the  author.'' 

In  a  subsequent  part  of  the  correspondence  Lady  Pomfret 
sent  to  Lady  Hertford  Lady  Mary's  town  eclogue,  entitled 
Saturday,  in  which  an  altered  beauty  laments  "  her  disfigured 
face,"  and  both  the  ladies  treat  it  as  descriptive  of  Lady 
Mary's  own  case. 

"Nothing,"  she  says,  "can  be  more  natural  than  her 
complaint  for  the  loss  of  her  beauty ;  but  as  that  was  only 
one  of  her  various  powers  to  charm,  I  should  have  imagined 
she  would  have  felt  only  a  small  part  of  the  regret  that  many 
others  have  suffered  in  a  like  misfortune,  who  having  no 
claim  to  admiration,  but  the  loveliness  of  their  persons,  have 
found  all  hope  of  that  vanish  much  earlier  in  life  than  Lady 
Mary,  for,  if  I  mistake  not,  she  was  near  forty  before  she 
had  to  deplore  the  loss  of  beauty  greater  than  ever  I  saw  in 
any  face  but  her  own." 

Lady  Mary  was  born  in  1690,  which  makes  her  mishap  — 
whatever  it  was — about  1730. 

After  this  she  always  wore  a  mask.  In  1733  Pope  pub- 
lished his  imitation  of  the  first  satire  of  the  second  book  of 
Horace.  In  the  lines  referring  to  "  furious  Sappho  "  we 
read  Pope's  solution  of  the  mask — one  perfectly  dreadful  to 
think  of,  but  which  the  poet  would  surely  not  have  dared  to 
print  if  there  had  been  no  foundation  laid  for  it,  and  no 
corroboration  of  it  in  the  lady's  own  personal  disfigure- 
ment. 

After  she  left  England  she  was  never  seen  but  in  a  mask 
and  domino.  Her  visitors  were  numerous  and  he  allusions 
to  them  are  hardly  complimentary.  Writing  to  Lady  Pom- 
fret she  says,  "  This  is  at  present  infested  with  English,  who 
torment  me  as  much  as  the  frogs  and  lice  did  the  palace  of 
Pharoah,  and  are  surprised  that  I  will  not  sutler  them  to 


NOTES.  Xlll. 

skip  about  my  house  from  morning  till  night."  These  visitors 
brought  back  to  England  strange  reports. 

Croker,  in  the  Quarterly  Review,  alluding  to  all  these 
scandals,  says,  "  Lord  Wharncliffe,  although  he  does  advert 
to  one  or  two  of  these  stories,  appears  to  be  by  no  means 
apprized  how  Augean  the  task  would  be  of  clearing  Lady 
Mary's  character  from  all  the  imputations  which  her  con- 
temporaries for  half  a  century  concurred  in  heaping  upon 
it.  We  are  not  going  to  rake  up  all  that  filth,  nor  indeed  to 
go  farther  into  such  questions  than  the  observations  of  the 
editors  lead  us ;  but  we  think  that  a  regard  for  moral  justice 
and  historical  truth  obliges  us  to  enter  our  protest  against 
the  entire  and  absolute  acquittal  which  Mr.  Dallaway  and 
Lord  Wharncliffe,  both  writing  under  the  influence  of  a 
laudable  partiality,  are  inclined  to  pronounce  upon  her  whole 
conduct.  We  abhor,  with  Lord  Wharncliffe,  Pope's  detest- 
able and  unmanly  charges — inter  politos  non  nominanda — 
which  have  eventually  done  at  least  as  much  injury  to  his  own 
character  as  to  Lady  Mary's,  which  constitute  the  chief 
drawback  of  his  popularity,  and  will  for  ever  exclude  his 
work  from  the  unrestricted  perusal  of  youth  and  innocence. 
But  on  the  other  hand  it  must  be  recollected  that  if  Pope 
had  dared  to  make  even  one — the  least — of  these  atrocious 
attacks  on  a  lady  of  respectable  character,  he  must  have 
been  either  shut  up  in  a  madhouse  or  a  jail,  or  at  all  events 
have  been  punished  by  total  exclusion  from  society." — Quart. 
Rev.,  vol.  58,  p.  187. 

Note  T.— Chapter  XXV.,  P.  226.— The  election  scene 
described  in  this  chapter,  and  the  observations  made  by  Mr. 
Montagu  on  the  indifference  of  the  House  of  Commons  in 
his  day  to  bribery,  while  it  made  loud  demonstrations  of 
anger  against  it  in  public,  seem  to  be  as  true  of  our  own  time 
as  they  were  in  the  days  of  George  the  Second.  In  the 
Standard  report  of  the  Bridgewater  Election  Commissioners, 
September  24th,  1869,  we  read  as  follows: — 

Mr.  G.  S.  Pool  then  stepped  into  the  witness  box.  He 
said  efforts  had  been  made  by  gentlemen  to  put  down 
bribery  in  the  town,  but  so  long  as  the  general  opinion  of 
the  House  of  Commons  was  what  it  was,  the  general  opinion 
of  the  public  would  be  the  same.  There  was  a  feeling 
abroad  now  that  the  House  of  Commons  was  not  in  earnest. 
The  feeling  was  that  while  this  was  being  probed  to  the  very 
bottom  it  ought  to  be  probed  upwards  also  (applause).  He 
referred  to  the  case  of  Bristol,  and  that  of  some  of  the 


XIV.  NOTES. 

Liberal  party  of  Bridgewater,  who  went  to  Mr.  Drake,  a 
gentleman  who  had  been  knighted  for  services  rendered  to 
the  Liberal  party,  and  said  that  showed  that  the  Liberal 
party  in  the  House  of  Commons  did  look  at  this  offence 
as  a  thing  to  be  connived  at,  and  until  there  was  a  different 
opinion  in  the  House  of  Commons,  it  would  not  be  different 
in  the  provinces. 

Mr.  Anstey  said  it  was  to  be  hoped,  now  they  had  the 
case  of  Brogden  they  would  deal  with  it  sharply. 

Mr.  Westropp,  a  former  candidate,  having  said  on  exam- 
inasion — You  know  it  is  no  pleasure  for  a  gentleman  to 
spend  money  in  bribery. 

The  Chairman  (Mr.  Price,  Q.C.)  made  answer — If  you 
ask  me  if  it  is  any  pleasure,  I  must  say  I  believe  some  men 
feel  it  downright  pleasure  to  come  down  and  corrupt  a  con- 
stituency, as  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Brogden. 

Mr.  Anstey — And  if  Mr.  Vanderbyl  did  not  participate  in 
that  pleasure,  he  would  not  have  participated  with  Mr. 
Brogden  in  doing  so. 

Here  we  have  it  stated  authoritatively,  by  two  of  her 
Majesty's  Commissioners,  that  these  persons  actually  entered 
upon  the  corruption  of  those  unfortunate  drunken  wretches 
of  Bridgewater,  as  a  matter  of  personal  gratification.  It 
remains  to  be  seen  whether  Mr.  Pool's  words  are  true  or  not? 
whether  parliament  will  interfere  and  punish?  whether  the 
Lord  Chancellor  will  allow  them  to  administer  law  and  the 
jail  from  the  bench  at  petty  sessions — for  we  suppose  they 
are  J.  P.'s  ?  If  all  goes  on  as  usual  will  anybody  believe 
that  bribery  is  seriously  regarded  by  those  who  are  in 
authority  ? 

But  will  the  House  deal  with  any  case  sharply?  It  may 
well  be  doubted.  Whigs  and  Tories  are  equally  debased 
and  corrupted.  There  is  hardly  an  honourable  member  who 
is  not  tarred  with  the  brush.  Electoral  demoralization  in 
the  present  age,  seems  to  have  reached  the  acme  of  corrup- 
tion. It  is  appalling  to  look  upon  ;  and  the  practices  de- 
tailed by  Mr.  Montagu  are  now  as  rife  as  in  the  worst  days  of 
the  Georges.  What  must  be  the  feelings  of  the  bribed  and 
beastly  constituency  of  Bridgewater,  when  they  knew  that 
their  venality  has  ended  in  the  self-destruction  of  the  late 
Lord  Justice  Clerk ;  and  who  can  read  the  melaneholy 
termination  of  this  unfortunate  gentleman's  life  without  a 
pang  of  sorrow  ?  After  the  burlesque  comes  the  tragedy. 
The  following  is  taken  from  the  Scotsman  : — 


NOTES.  XV. 


11  The  mystery  connected  with  the  disappearance  of  Lord  Jus- 
tice Clerk  Patton  has  at  length  received  a  very  melancholy  solu- 
tion in  the  discovery  of  his  body  on  Friday  afternoon.      The  dis- 
covery was  made  in  the  bed  of  the  river  Almond,  immediately 
beyond  Buchanty  Spout,  and  it  is  painful  to  have  to  add  that 
the  appearance  presented  by  the  corpse  fully  confirms  the  worst 
surmises  that  have  been  formed  as  to  the   manner  in  which  his 
lordship  came  by  his  death.    Malloch,  the  Perth  boatman,  who 
has  for  the  last  three  days  had  charge  of  the  exploring  party, 
found  that  the  apparatus  with  which  he  was  supplied  was  insuffi- 
cient for  the  thorough  examination  of  the  deep  pools  at  Buchanty. 
He  accordingly  returned  to  Perth,  and  provided  himself  with  a 
sand-boat  boom  or  pole,  such  as  is  used  by  the  boatmen  to  propel 
their  vessels  on  the  Tay.    On  his  arrival  at  Glenalmond  on  Friday 
morning  he  attached  an  iron  creeper  to  the  lower  end  of  the  boom, 
and  commenced  dragging  the  river   about  twelve  o'clock.      He 
was  assisted    by    Mr  Forrest,  the  overseer  at  the  Cairnies ;  and 
a  number  of  the  workmen  on  the  Glenalmond  estates  were  em- 
ployed in   guiding    the  boat   from    which  the  exploration  was 
conducted,  by  means  of  ropes  stretched  from  the  river  banks. 
Attention  was  in  the  first  instance  turned  to  the  deep  pool  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  fall  j  but  at  this  point  the  strength  of 
the  current   is    very    great,    and    the   tests  applied  duiing  the 
early   part   of  the    week  had  satisfied  the  searchers  that  there 
was  little  likelihood  of  the  body  being  found  there.     The  party 
accordingly  worked  gradually  down  the  river,  but  the  undertak- 
ing was  found  to  be  one  of  the  most  tedious  and  difficult  nature. 
On  reaching  Buchanty  Bridge,  Malloch  became  much  more  hope- 
ful of  success.    At  this  point  the  chasm  through  which  the  river 
flows  become  considerably   wider,  the  strength  of  the  current 
decreases,  and  a  series  of  whirlpools  are  formed  in  deep  hollows, 
scooped  out  of  the  solid  rock.    These  were  in  succession  examined 
with  special  care,  but  the  first  examination  was  without  result. 
Malloch,  however,  was  satisfied  that  it  was  here  the  body  must 
have   lodged  if  it  went  into   the   river  at   the   point   supposed. 
This  impression  was  strengthened  by  the  circumstance  that  seve- 
ral of  the  parties  who  explored  the  river  on  Tuesday  and  Wed- 
nesday  had   stated  that  they  thought  they  felt  a  yielding  sub- 
stance in  one  of  the  pools  near  the  centre  of  the  river,  about 
ten  or   fifteen  yards  below   the    bridge,    and    150    yards  from 
Buchanty  Spout-      It    was  accordingly   resolved  to  institute  a 
second  search,  and,  beginning  underneath  the   bridge,  Malloch 
again  worked  his  way  slowly  down  the  river.      The  pool  above 
referred  to,  and  which  is  upwards  of  fifteen  feet  deep,  ne  dragged 
with  special  care.      For  more  than  an  hour  he  continued  working 
the  creeper  over  the  rock  bottom.    Weeds,  shrubs,  and  branches 
of  trees  were  brought  to  the  surface,  but  there  seemed  not  tho 
least  indication  of  the  presence  of  the  object  sought   for.      The 
boatman,  however,  persevered  in  his  exertions,  and  shortly   after 
three  o'clock  he  became  convinced  that  the  body  lay  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  pool.      With  great  care   he  again  dragged  his  pole 
along  the  bottom,  and  in  a  few  minutes   he  found  that  he  had 
hooked  some  heavy  substance.      The  catch  he  had  obtained  was, 


XVI.  NOTES. 


however,  the  slightest  possible,  and  the  greatest  caution  was 
necessary  to  prevent  the  creeper  losing  its  hold.  The  few  spec- 
tators who  had  collected  about  the  bridge  now  rushed  down  to 
the  water's  edge,  and  the  excitement  became  painfully  intense  ; 
but  Malloch  kept  himself  perfectly  cool  and  collected  throughout. 
Instructing  his  assistants  to  keep  the  boat  perfectly  steady,  he 
proceeded  to  raise  tlie  object  he  had  hold  of  gradually  to  the 
surface.  He  had  not  obtained  sufficient  hold  to  enable  him  to 
lift  it  perpendicularly,  and  found  it  necessary  to  employ  the  pole 
rather  as  a  lever  to  float  it  slowly  upwards.  At  length 
he  succeeded  in  bringing  the  object  to  the  surface,  but 
at  a  considerable  distance  from  the  boat.  It  now  be- 
came apparent  that  the  object  was  a  corpse,  and  the 
interest  of  the  bystanders  was  correspondingly  intensified. 
Instead  of  taking  the  body  into  the  boat,  Malloch  deemed 
it  advisable  to  work  it  slowly  towards  the  water's  edge ;  and  this 
he  succeeded  in  doing,  bnt  not  without  considerable  difficulty. 
An  assistant  on  the  bank  straightway  grasped  the  lappel  of  a 
coat,  he  in  turn  being  grasped  by  another  person  to  prevent  him 
falling  over  the  sloping  bank  into  the  deep  pool  beneath.  Malloch 
thereupon  dropped  the  pole,  and  springing  ashore,  got  upon  the 
point  of  a  projecting  rock,  and  succeeded  in  bringing  the  body  to 
the  land.  When  examined,  it  was  found  to  have  been  hooked  by 
the  right  hand.  It  had  been  lying  with  the  face  downwards  j  but 
in  rising,  it  turned  slowly  round  and  floated  for  sometime  with  the 
face  upwards.  The  forehead  was  seen  to  be  much  bruised,-  the 
neck  and  breast  were  completely  exposed,  and  there  was  a  cut 
across  the  throat.  It  is  said  that  the  wound  was  not  very  deep  ; 
and  there  seems  to  have  been  but  little  blood  upon  the  clothes, 
which  consisted  of  a  suit  of  black.  Besides  the  injuries  described 
there  were  no  other  marks  upon  the  body,  and  the  countenance  is 
described  as  having  been  quite  placid  and  serene.  On  being 
brought  to  the  bank  the  body  was  taken  charge  of  by  Constable 
Wilson,  of  the  county  constabulary.  It  was  wrapped  in  a  white 
sheet,  and  conveyed  on  a  stretcher  to  Glenalmond  House,  where 
it  was  placed  in  one  of  the  bedrooms  to  await  the  attendance  of 
the  proper  authorities-  Malloch,  the  boatman  was  immediately 
driven  to  Perth,  where  he  communicated  his  discovery  to  Mr. 
Jameson,  procurator  fiscal,  and  Mr.  Gordon,  chief  constable  of 
the  county.  At  a  quarter-past  five  o'clock  the  Procurator  Fiscal 
and  Dr.  Absolon  left  Perth,  for  Glenalmond  House,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  a  post-mortem  examination. 

After  the  discovery  of  the  body  the  spot  where  the  razor,  case, 
and  necktie  were  found,  on  Tuesday  afternoon  was  visited  with 
renewed  interest.  It  now  seemed  but  too  evident  that  the  case 
had  been  one  of  suicide,  and  the  whole  circumstance  pointed  to 
the  inference  that  there  had  been  deliberate  premeditation.  It 
will  be  remembered  that  the  articles  referred  to  were  found  on  a 
bank  overhanging  the  fall  of  Buchanty.  The  deceased  appears 
to  have  advanced  to  the  edge  of  this  bank,  which  stands  about 
five  or  six  feet  above  the  torrent,  to  have  there  cut  his  throat,  and 
then  allowed  himself  to  fall  backwards,  instinctively  clutching  as 
he  fell  the  ash  sapling  growing  on  the  bank,  which  was  subse- 


NOTES.  XVU. 

quently  found  with  bloody  finger  marks.  The  body  would  be 
swept  at  once  into  the  deep  pool  below  the  linn,  from  which 
it  subsequently  drifted  downwards  to  the  pool  where  it  was  dis- 
covered. 

The  Right  Hon.  George  Patton  was  born  at  Perth  in  1803,  and 
was  consequently  in  his  67th  year.  He  received  his  early  educa- 
tion at  the  academy  of  that  city,  from  which  he  was  sent  to  the 
University  of  Edinburgh,  and  subsequently  to  Trinity  College, 
Cambridge,  where  he  took  the  English  declamation  prize.  He 
was  admitted  a  member  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates  in  1828. 
His  politics  were  staunch  Conservative,  and  when  Lord  Derby 
came  into  office  in  1859  he  was  appointed  Solicitor  General  for 
Scotland.  In  1866  he  became  Lord  Advocate,  and  was  elected 
member  for  Bridgewater,  which  lie  contested  twice  at  great  expense. 
In  the  same  year  he  was  raised  to  the  dignity  of  Lord  Justice 
Clerk  in  the  ruom  of  Lord  Glencorse,  who  succeeded  the  now 
Lord  Colonsay  as  Lord  Justice  General.  About  the  same  time  he 
was  made  a  member  of  the  Privy  Council. 

This  gentleman  had  been  summoned  by  the  Commis- 
sioners to  explain  his  connection  with  the  borough  and  the 
charges  of  bribery  which  had  been  made  against  him. 
Knowing  that  an  examination  would  cause  such  a  report 
from  the  Commissioners  as  must  make  his  further  retention 
of  the  judicial  office  impossible,  he  destroyed  himself.  A  few 
more  incidents  of  this  kind,  and  bribery  may  become  so 
universally  odious,  that  Parliament  will  be  compelled  to 
make  it,  as  it  ought  long  since  to  have  been  made,  a  felony, 
punishable  by  hard  labour. 

While  these  pages  are  passing  through  the  press  we  read 
in  the  papers  the  following  letter  descriptive  of  this  noto- 
rious borough.  It  bears  the  signature  H.  Is  it  possible  that 
it  comes  from  Hogden's  Ghost  ?  There  is  another  borough, 
that  of  Wednesbury  in  Staffordshire,  where  every  one  of 
the  atrocities  mentioned  in  Bridgewater,  was  repeated  last 
election,  with  more  than  tenfold  virulence ;  but  it  escapes 
while  B.  is  ruined.     This  demonstrates  the  general  humbug. 

TO  THE  EDITOR. 

Sir,  The  Liberal  press—  more  particularly  the  semi-local  West 
of  England  portion  of  it — is  loud  in  its  complaints  of  the  "  in- 
quisition,"   as    they    please    to  term  it,   which    is  holding  its 

terrorism  "  over  the  good  folk,  the  "  free  and  independent  of 
Bridgewater.  While  one  portion  attributes  the  "  terrorism  "  and 
''inquisition"  to  the  love  of  power  on  the  part  of  the  Commis- 
sioners, and  the  opportunity  laid  open  to  them  of  exerting  it,  the 
other  lays  it  at  the  door  of  the  Conservative  party  in  general,  and 
the  bias  of  the  Commissioners  in  particular.  Referring  to  this 
last  agitation  (which  by  its  prominence  had  come  more  particu- 

VOL.    II.  Q 


•  •  • 


XV111.  NOTES. 

larly  before  his  notice),  Mr.  Anstey  remarked  a  day  or  two  ago 
that  the  fact  was  that  two  out  of  the  three  Commissioners  were  of 
Liberal  politics.  As  regards  the  former,  it  goes  for  what  it  is 
worth.  The  Commissioners  have  a  public  duty  to  perform,  and  it 
is  a  duty  of  the  most  unpleasant  and  onerous  description.  They 
have  each  expressed  himself  as  being  sick  and  disgusted  at  the 
whole  affair,  and  the  Chairman  has  been  thoroughly  knocked  up 
and  prostrated  by  the  unceasing  toil  and  hard  work. 

The  fact  is  this.  The  Commissioners  inquired  first  into  the 
state  of  affairs  in  the  Liberal  camp  in  the  borough.  The  Liberal 
members  were  unseated  on  petition,  and,  therefore,  it  was  most 
natural  to  inquire  into  the  corrupt  practices  which  rendered  their 
election  void  in  the  first  instance.  The  most  gloomy  and  notorious 
forebodings  were  only  too  well  realised.  A  nest  of  the  vilest  cor- 
ruption was  wnearthed  and  the  most  wide-spread  and  abominable 
villainy  brought  to  light.  Now,  I  do  not  for  a  moment  wish  to  be 
considered  invidious.  The  Conservative  party  was  bad.  There 
was  very  little  to  choose  between  the  one  and  the  other,  as  far  as 
their  antecedents  were  concerned. 

The  poor  uneducated  voters  have  given  their  evidence  far  more 
satisfactorily  and  honestly  than  have  the  "  gentlemen  "—  gentle- 
men, forsooth  ! — who  have  met  with  such  plain  and  unequivocal 
treatment  at  the  Commissioners'  hands.  When  we  6ee  magis- 
trates, town  councillors,  solicitors,  and  the  leading  inhabitants  of 
the  town  prevaricating  and  quibbling  with  the  questions  put  to 
them— nay,  more,  when  we  see  these  most  "  respectable"  of  the 
people— men  of  rank  and  education— stooping  to  the  most  paltry 
pretences  and  meannesses  to  endeavour  to  hide  their  misdeeds, 
when  they  commit  the  most  unblushing  perjury  and  are  forced  to 
give  tliemselves  the  lie  afterwards  ;  when  we  see  all  this  happen 
daily  we  need  feel  no  surprise  at  the  plain  language  used  by  the 
Commissioners.  One  thing  is  certain— that  did  they  not  express 
themselves  strongly  they  would  never  get  the  truth  from  these  in- 
telligent witnesses.  It  is,  after  all,  to  the  conduct  of  these  "  gen- 
tlemen "  that  we  must  attribute  all  the  evils  which  have  come 
upon  the  constituency.  If  the  "  gentlemen,"  who  ought  to  have 
known  better,  had  not  corrupted  and  attempted  the  artisans,  who 
do  not  know  better  it  would  never  have  come  to  pass.  Let  the 
shame  and  disgrace  accrue  to  them  alone. 

The  Commissioners  are  doing  their  disagreeable  duty  con- 
scientiously and  fairly.  They  are  showing  up  vice  in  its  true 
colours,  and  praising  honesty  when  they  come  across  it.  No  one 
need  complain  of  their  judgment,  save  those  who,  by  stooping 
to  wilful  misdeeds,  have  laid  themselves  open  to  its  full  force. 
The  Commission  at  Bridgewater  has  taught  a  good  and  wholesome 
lesson  to  every  constituency  in  the  kingdom,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped 
they  will  read,  learn,  and  inwardly  digest  the  same. 
I  am.  Sir,  yours  faithfully, 

Bridgewater,  Oct.  11.  H. 

END    OF   VOL.    II. 


T.  C.  Newby,  30,  Welbeck  Street,  Cavendish  Square,  London. 


ME.  F.  TROLLOPE'S  NEW  NOVEL. 

(Second  Edition.) 
In  2  Vols. 

A      WOMAN'S      ERROR, 


* '  Few  writers  of  fiction  have  made  snch  steady  progress  in  their 
vocation  as  Mr.  Trollope,  and  this,  his  latest  novel  will  largely  in- 
crease his  reputation,  and  help  to  place  his  name  in  the  highest  rank 
umong  the  best  of  our  modern  novel  writers." — Brighton  Examinee. 

"  One  of  the  very  best  novels  of  the  day."-  Daily  Post. 

"This  novel  will  be  considered  a  decided  success." — Observer. 

"  Smoothly  written,   and  is  easy  and  agreeable  reading."— Morn- 
ng  Advertiser. 

"In  a  'Woman's  Error'  there  is  much  thoughtful  writing,  and 

though  not  as  exciting  a  novel  as  Mr.  Trollope's  '  Broken  Fetters,' 

t  displays  more  real  genius.     It  will  be  read  with  pleasure,  and  place 

Mr.  F.  Trollope's  name  amongst  the  very  best  of  modern  novelists." — 

Messenger. 

"  Ladies  will  read  this  book,  and  nine-tenths  of  them  at  least  will 
like  it."— Manchester  Guardian. 

"  This  novel  has  reached  a  second  edition,  and  we  can  fully  indorse 
the  high  praise  given  Mr.  Trollope  in  the  principal  London  papers. 
It  is  a  pure  moral  novel,  and  the  story,  which  is  extremely  interest- 
ing, is  well  told,  and  we  defy  the  most  ardent  novel  reader  to  discover 
the  mystery  of  the  tale,  so  well  is  the  secret  kept,  until  he  or  she 
reaches  the  final  chapter.  The  descriptions  of  the  scenery  are  as 
graphic  and  picturesque  as  those  of  Sir  Walter  Scott." — Scar- 
borough Mercury. 


In  3  Vols. 

M    A    R    R    I    E    D  . 

By  MKS.  C.  J.  NEWBY, 

Author   of    "Wondrous    Strange,"    "Kate    Kennedy," 
"Common  Sense,"  &c. 

"  Constructed  on  Mrs.  Newby's  laudable  system  of  discarding  sen- 
sationalism."— Athenaeum. 

"A  lively  story  smartly  told."— Morning  Advertiser. 

"We  compliment  Mrs.  Newby  on  her  story.  It  is  well  told  ;  the 
characters  are  boldly  and  truthfully  sketched,  and  the  lesson  taught 
an  excellent  one." — Liverpool  Albion. 

"  It  will  be  found  both  instructive  and  interesting."— Observer. 

"'Married'  must  be  classed  amongst  the  best  of  novels.  The 
authoress  writes  to  please  as  well  as  improve  readers,  and  admirably 
she  does  both." — Messenger. 

"In  endeavouring  to  raise  the  tone  of  thought,  we  believe  Mrs. 
Newby  to  be  doing  a  great  deal  of  good.  This  is  the  kind  of  instruc- 
tion the  world  wants,  and  our  author  has  taken  her  acknowledged 
place  among  the  purest  and  best  teachers  of  the  day." — Brighton 
Examiner. 

"Mrs.  Newby's  novels  are  pure  in  tone  and  intention;  interesting 
and  well  written." — Now-a-Days. 


i  c 


Pleasantly  written."— John  Bull. 


"We  heartily  commend  it  as  worthy  of  careful  reading,  and  sure 
to  bear  good  fruit." — Standard. 

"The  writer  of  c  Kate  Kennedy'  may  always  be  trusted,  and  in 
'  Married '  she  exhibits  in  a  very  high  degree  some  of  the  very  be.-t 
qualities  of  her  craft."— Manchester  Guardian. 


KSSG 


ovara 


E9f0£ 


ft«»j 


tiBM 


i&ES 


ffigg 


UNIVERSITY 


3  0112  0476921 


■Hi 

Sll 
111 


llsf 


» 


Hi  H 


■