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PHILIP VAUGHAN'S MARRIAGE.
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EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
IN THREE VOLUMES
13 "6lK DP -ftt?
" Let the day perish in which I was born."
T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER,
30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.
[all eights keserved.]
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
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
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
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. ... ••• ••• .»• •• ... •••
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
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
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*
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
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
generation of vipers, how can ye being evil speak good things ? —
for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. ... 167
And we entered into the house of Philip the Evangelist. ... 199
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
The sword without and terror within, shall destroy both th«
young man and tho virgin. ... ... ... ••• ••• 275
EDWAED WOKTLEY MONTAGU.
' ' 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
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
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
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?"
" '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
"Who fired?" said I, " who is shot?"
" No one that I know of," he answered, " but
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
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, 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-
" 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-
' ' Ah ! little one, these are questions that no
mortal can solve."
EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 11
" And shall we ever see those glorious, mighty
" 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
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
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
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-
" 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 — God ! 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. 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
20 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
"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 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
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
" 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
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
" 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
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
EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 31
• ' 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.
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
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
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
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
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
"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
" 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
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
48 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
" 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
-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
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.
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 —
u l 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
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-
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
" 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
" 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.
" 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
Then I said, " 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
EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 57
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-
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
" 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
"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
" 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
" 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 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
" 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
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
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, 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-
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
"But, ho! Jacomo, ho! what, my brother,
and hast thou no cheese, no delicate fruits, no
sweetmeats after this rough repast? Bring forth
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.
" 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
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. 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
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-
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, 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-
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, 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,
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) r ments; 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
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
" 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
" 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
" 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, Bazecgur," answered
one of the most aged and venerable of the Nor-
wood companions. " Hearken unto it, 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-
100 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
"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
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,
"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
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
" 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
" My tears answered for me — tears of blood
from my heart.
" l 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
" 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
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,
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
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-
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
'* 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
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
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-
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
" Of whom quotha ?" asked Balthazar.
" Nay, my brother, thou surely must know
this. I speak of Francesca, his betrothed
" But she also is a Busne. She also must
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
Their eager curiosity affrighted me. It was an
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
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
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
"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."
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
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 too 3 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,
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
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
" 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
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
154 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
a tawdry bit of finery and paint in that modest
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
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
" 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-
" That must be an annoyance to you, Mr.
" 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
" 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,
" I can undertake, Mr. Curll, that no such
metamorphosis as that shall happen under my
"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
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
" 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
" 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,
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-
" 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
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
' ' O generation of vipers , how can ye being evil speak good
things ? — for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth
" Why don't you join our club?" said Savage,
to me one day ; " the expense is little, the fun
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
" 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-
** 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
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
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
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
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
" 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 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
" 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
178 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
am attacked ?" asked DenDis ; and his eyes seemed
flames of fire.
" Nobody attacked you," said Boyer, u it was
" Fun to us, but death to the frogs," groaned
" Do you dare to call me a frog?" thundered
" 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
" 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 —
" You know the law, Mr. Savage," said Henley,
" and you must either pay the fine, or give us an
' 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
" 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
"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-
" 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
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
"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,
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
" 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
" And spend his mone\ on literature," added
" 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-
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
" Explain, explain," shouted Henley. " I al-
ways thought his only muse was ' Bysshe's Art of
" I called on his lordship last week to, ahem —
"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
* 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
" 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
" 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
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
" 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
]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
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 -
" Now then, you Scotch louse," said the Orator,
" i, r ive us a song. I'm tired of having to do all
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
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
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
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
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-
" And pray who may these gentlemen be, Mr.
" 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,'
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 !
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
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
" 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
" 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
" 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
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
" 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
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
" 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
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
u A metaphysical discussion!" ejaculated Scar-
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
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
" 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.) U I 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
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, 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
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
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-
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
" 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.
226 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
" 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
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
" 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
" 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
Shaveley Bill rubbed his hands, horse-laughed,
and said —
"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
" 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
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 ?"
u tli," 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.
" 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
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. i T . 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
" 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-
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
" 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
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 .
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
" No where ! ' ejaculated Plantagenet, with
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,
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,
" 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 pounds 1 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.
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-
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
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 ?
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 -
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
Plantagenet smiled faintly. The dirty little
craven took courage, and shook the Cannibal by
* 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
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
" 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-
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
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
270 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU.
Lion occupied the vice-chair, and the dishes were
" 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
" 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
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,
We had a laugh at the worthy alderman's
mode of spelling the first syllable of cham-
" 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
" 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.
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
"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
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
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 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
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.
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-
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
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-
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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,
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
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
" 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 —
" 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,
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
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
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.
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
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-
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
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
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
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 : —
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,
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-
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-
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
• • •
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.
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-
"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." —
" 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-
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
"Mrs. Newby's novels are pure in tone and intention; interesting
and well written." — Now-a-Days.
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.
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