Works

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THE WORKS OF

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE

THACKERAY

Catherine: A Story
and Other Tales

FIFTY-SIX PHOTOGRAVURES AND

ILLUSTRATIONS FROM ORIGINAL

DRAWINGS BY THACKERAY,

FREDERICK WALKER, R.A.,

GEORGE DU MAURIER,

FRANK DICKSEE, R.A.,

RICHARD DOYLE,

ETC.

P. F. COLLIER & SON
Publishers New York

CATHERINE: A STORY,

BY IKEY SOLOMONS, ESQ., JUNIOR.

VoLij

CONTENTS.

CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTEP PAGE

1 3

II. In which are depicted the Pleasures of a Sentimental At-
tachment 34

III. In which a Narcotic is administered, and a great deal of

Genteel Society depicted, 47

IV. In which Mrs. Catherine becomes an Honest Woman

again, 58

V. Contains Mr. Brock's Autobiography, and other Matter, 70
VI. The Adventures of the Ambassador, Mr. Macshane, . 84
VII. Which embraces a Period of Seven Years, . . .103
VIII. Enumerates the Accomplishments of Master Thomas
Billings — Introduces Brock as Dr. Wood — And an-
nounces the Execution of Ensign Macshane, . . 122
IX. Interview between Count Galgenstein and Master
Thomas Billings, when he informs the Count of his

Parentage, 138

X. Showing how Galgenstein and Mrs. Cat recognise each
other in Marylebone Gardens— And how the Count

drives her Home in his Carriage, 150

XI. Of some Domestic Quarrels, and the Consequence

thereof, 162

XII. Treats of Love, and Prepares for Death, . . . 177

XIII. Being a Preparation for the End, 182

CHAPTER THE LAST, 184

ANOTHER LAST CHAPTER, . 190

MEN'S WIVES.

Mr. and Mrs. Frank Berry.

CHAP. I. The Fight at Slaughter House,
CHAP. II. The Combat at Versailles, .

Dennis Haggarty's Wife

211
219

iv CONTENTS.

TAG*

The Ravenswing.

CHAP. I. Which is entirely Introductory — contains an
Account of Miss Crump, her Suitors, and her Family
Circle, 261

CHAP. II. In which Mr. Walker makes Three Attempts to
ascertain the Dwelling of Morgiana, .... 283

CHAP. III. What came of Mr. Walker's Discovery of the
Bootjack, 297

CHAP. IV. In which the Heroine has a number more
Lovers, and cuts a very Dashing Figure in the World, 308

CHAP. V. In which Mr. Walker falls into Difficulties, and
Mrs. Walker makes many Foolish Attempts to rescue
him, . . . . . . . . . 329

CHAP. VI. In which Mr. Walker still remains in Difficul-
ties, but shows Great Resignation under his Misfor-
tunes, 350

CHAP. VII. In which Morgiana advances towards Fame and
Honour, and in which Several Great Literary Charac-
ters make their Appearance, 363

CHAP. VIII. In which Mr. Walker shows Great Prudence
and Forbearance, 380

Postscript, ... .396

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

CHAPTER

I. Of the Loves of Mr. Perkins and Miss Gorgon and of the

Two Great Factions in the Town of Oldborough, . 401

II. Shows how the Plot began to thicken in or about Bedfordr

Row, 422

III. Behind the Scenes, 437

CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTER I.

AT that famous period of history, when the seventeenth
century (after a deal of quarrelling, king-killing, reform-
ing, republicanising, restoring, re-restoring, play-writing,
sermon-writing, Oliver Cromwellising, Stuartising, and
Organising, to be sure) had sunk into its grave, giving
place to the lusty eighteenth ; when Mr. Isaac Newton was
a tutor of Trinity, and Mr. Joseph Addison commissioner
of appeals ; when the presiding genius that watched over
the destinies of the French nation had played out all the
best cards in his hand, and his adversaries began to pour
in their trumps ; when there were two kings in Spain em-
ployed perpetually in running away from one another;
when there was a queen in England, with such rogues for
ministers as have never been seen, no, not in our own day ;
and a general, of whom it may be severely argued, whether
he was the meanest miser or the greatest hero in the world ;
when Mrs. Masham had not yet put Madam Maryborough's
nose out of joint ; when people had their ears cut off for
writing very meek political pamphlets ; and very large full-
bottomed wigs were just beginning to be worn with pow-
der ; and the face of Louis the Great, as his was handed
in to him behind the bed-curtains, was, when issuing
thence, observed to look longer, older, and more dismal
daily. . . .

About the year One Thousand Seven Hundred and^ive,
that is, in the glorious reign of Queen Anne, there existed
certain characters, and befell a series of adventures, which,
since they are strictly in accordance with the present fash-

4 CATHERINE: A STORY.

i enable style and taste ; since they have been already partly
described in the "Newgate Calendar"; since they are (as
shall be seen anon) agreeably low, delightfully disgusting,
and at the same time eminently pleasing and pathetic, may
properly be set down here.

And though it may be said, with some considerable
show of reason, that agreeably low and delightfully dis-
gusting have already been treated both copiously and
ably, by some eminent writers of the present (and, indeed,
of future) ages ; though to tread in the footsteps of the im-
mortal Fagin requires a genius of inordinate stride, and to
go a-robbing after the late though deathless Turpin, the
renowned Jack Sheppard (at present in monthly numbers,
an ornament to society) or the embryo Duval, may be im-
possible, and not an infringement, but a wasteful indica-
tion of ill-will towards the eighth commandment ; though
it may, on the one hand, be asserted that only vain cox-
combs would dare to write on subjects already described
by men really and deservedly eminent ; on the other hand,
that these subjects have been described so fully, that
nothing more can be said about them ; on the third hand
(allowing, for the sake of argument, three hands to one
figure of speech), that the public has heard so much of
them, as to be quite tired of rogues, thieves, cut-throats,
and Newgate altogether ; though all these objections may
be urged, and each is excellent, yet we intend to take a few
more pages from the "Old Bailey Calendar," to bless the
public with one more draught from the Stone Jug!* — yet
awhile to listen, hurdle-mounted, and riding down the
Oxford Koad, to the bland conversation of Jack Ketch,
and to hang with him round the neck of his patient, at the
end of our and his history. We give the reader fair notice,
that we shall tickle him with a few such scenes of villainy,
throat-cutting, and bodily suffering in general, as are not

to be found, no, not in ; never mind comparisons, for

such are odious.

* This, as your ladyship is aware, is the polite name for her
Majesty's prison of Newgate.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 5

In the year 1705, then, whether it was that the Queen
of England did feel seriously alarmed at the notice that
a French prince should occupy the Spanish throne; or
whether she was tenderly attached to the Emperor of Ger-
many ; or whether she was obliged to fight out the quarrel
of William of Orange, who made us pay and fight for his
Dutch provinces ; or whether poor old Louis Quatorze did
really frighten her ; or whether Sarah Jennings and her
husband wanted to make a fight, knowing how much they
should gain by it; — whatever the reason was, it was evi-
dent that the war was to continue, and there was almost
as much soldiering and recruiting, parading, pike- and gun-
exercising, flag-flying, drum-beating, powder-blazing, and
military enthusiasm, as we can a1! remember in the year
1801, what time the Corsican upstart menaced our shores.
A recruiting-party and captain of Cutts's regiment (which
had been so mangled at Blenheim the year before) was
now in Warwickshire ; and having their depot at Warwick,
the captain and his attendant, the sergeant, were used to
travel through the country, seeking for heroes to fill up the
gaps in Cutts's corps, — and for adventures to pass away
the weary time of a country life.

Our Captain Plume and Sergeant Kite (it was at this
time, by the way, that those famous recruiting-officers were
playing their pranks in Shrewsbury) were occupied very
much in the same manner with Farquhar's heroes. They
roamed from Warwick to Stratford, and from Stratford to
Birmingham, persuading the swains of Warwickshire to
leave the plough for the pike, and despatching, from time
to time, small detachments of recruits to extend Marlbor-
ough's lines, and to act as food for the hungry cannon at
Eamillies and Malplaquet.

Of those two gentlemen, who are about to act a very im-
portant part in our history, one only was probably a native
of Britain, — we say probably, because the individual in
question was himself quite uncertain, and, it must be
added, entirely indifferent about his birthplace : but speak-
ing the English language, and having been during the

6 CATHERINE: A STORY.

course of his life pretty generally engaged in the British
service, he had a tolerably fair claim to the majestic title
of Briton. His name was Peter Brock, otherwise Corporal
Brock, of Lord Cutts's regiment of dragoons ; he was of
age about fifty-seven (even that point has never been ascer-
tained) ; in height, about five feet six inches ; in weight,
nearly thirteen stone; with a chest that the celebrated
Leitch himself might envy ; an arm that was like an opera-
dancer's leg ; a stomach that was so elastic that it would
accommodate itself to any given or stolen quantity of food ;
a great aptitude for strong liquors ; a considerable skill in
singing chansons de table of not the most delicate kind ; he
was a lover of jokes, of which he made many, and passably
bad; when pleased, simply coarse, boisterous, and jovial;
when angry, a perfect demon ; bullying, cursing, storming,
fighting, as is sometimes the wont with gentlemen of his
cloth and education.

Mr. Brock was strictly what the Marquis of Rodil styled
himself, in a proclamation to his soldiers after running
away, a hijo de la guerra — a child of war. Not seven
cities, but one or two regiments, might contend for the
honour of giving him birth ; for his mother, whose name
he took, had acted as camp-follower to a Royalist regi-
ment; had then obeyed the Parliamentarians; died in
Scotland when Monk was commanding in that country;
and the first appearance of Mr. Brock in a public capacity
displayed him as a fifer in the General's own regiment of
Coldstreamers, when they marched from Scotland to Lon-
don, and from a republic at once into a monarchy. Since
that period, Brock had been always with the army ; he had
had, too, some promotion, for he spake of having a com-
mand at the battle of the Boyne ; though probably (as he
never mentioned the fact) upon the losing side ; and the
very year before this narrative commences, he had been one
of Mordaunt's forlorn hope at Schellenberg, for which
service he was promised a pair of colours ; he lost them,
however, and was almost shot (but fate did not ordain that
his career should close in that way) for drunkenness and in-

CATHERINE: A STORY. 7

subordination immediately after the battle; but having in
some measure reinstated himself by a display of much gal-
lantry at Blenheim, it was found advisable to send him to
England for the purpose of recruiting, and remove him al-
together from the regiment, where his gallantry only ren-
dered the example of his riot more dangerous.

Mr. Brock's commander was a slim young gentleman of
twenty- six, about whom there was likewise a history, if
one would take the trouble to inquire. He was a Bavarian
by birth (his mother being an English lady), and enjoyed
along with a dozen other brothers the title of count : eleven
of these, of course, were penniless; one or two were
priests, one a monk, six or seven in various military serv-
ices, and the elder at home at Schloss Galgenstein breeding
horses, hunting wild boars, swindling tenants, living in a
great house with small means; obliged to be sordid at
home all the year, to be splendid for a month at the cap-
ital, as is the way with many other noblemen. Our young
count, Count Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian von Galgen-
stein, had been in the service of the French, as page to a
nobleman; then of his Majesty's gardes du corps ; then a
lieutenant and captain in the Bavarian service ; and when,
after the battle of Blenheim, two regiments of Germans
came over to the winning side, Gustavus Adolphus Maxi-
milian found himself among them ; and at the epoch when
this story commences, had enjoyed English pay for a year
or more. It is unnecessary to say how he exchanged into
his present regiment; how it appeared that, before her
marriage, handsome John Churchill had known the young
gentleman's mother, when they were both penniless hang-
ers-on at Charles the Second's court; — it is, we say, quite
useless to repeat all the scandal of which we are perfectly
masters, and to trace step by step the events of his his-
tory. Here, however, was Gustavus Adolphus, in a small
inn, in a small village of Warwickshire, on an autumn
evening in the year 1705; and at the very moment when
this history begins, he and Mr. Brock, his corporal and
friend, were seated at a round table before the kitchen

8 CATHERINE: A STORY.

fire, while a small groom of the establishment was leading
up and down on the village green, before the inn door,
two black, glossy, long-tailed, barrel-bellied, thick-flanked,
arch -necked, Roman-nosed Flanders horses, which were
the property of the two gentlemen now taking their ease at
the Bugle Inn. The two gentlemen were seated at their
ease at the inn table, drinking mountain wine ; and if the
reader fancies from the sketch which we have given of
their lives, or from his own blindness and belief in the
perfectibility of human nature, that the sun of that autumn
evening shone upon any two men in county or city, at desk
or harvest, at court or at Newgate, drunk or sober, who
were greater rascals than Count Gustavus Galgenstein and
Corporal Peter Brock, he is egregiously mistaken, and his
knowledge of human nature is not worth a fig. If they
had not been two prominent scoundrels, what earthly busi-
ness should we have in detailing their histories? What
would the public care for them? Who would meddle with
dull virtue, humdrum sentiment, or stupid innocence, when
vice, agreeable vice, is the only thing which the readers of
romances care to hear?

The little horse-boy, who was leading the two black
Flanders horses up and down the green, might have put
them in the stable for any good that the horses got by the
gentle exercise which they were now taking in the cool
evening air, as their owners had not ridden very far or very
hard, and there was not a hair turned of their sleek shin-
ing coats ; but the lad had been especially ordered so to
walk the horses about until he received further commands
from the gentlemen reposing in the Bugle kitchen; and
the idlers of the village seemed so pleased with the beasts,
and their smart saddles and shining bridles, that it would
have been a pity to deprive them of the pleasure of con-
templating such an innocent spectacle. Over the count's
horse was thrown a fine red cloth, richly embroidered in
yellow worsted, a very large count's coronet and a cipher
at the four corners of the covering; and under this might
be seen a pair of gorgeous silver stirrups, and above it, a

CATHERINE: A STORY. 9

couple of silver-mounted pistols reposing in bearskin hol-
sters; the bit was silver too, and the horse's head was dee-
orated with many smart ribbons. Of the corporal's steed,
suffice it to say, that the ornaments were in brass, as
bright, though not perhaps so valuable, as those which
decorated the captain's animal. The boys who had been
at play on the green, first paused and entered into conver-
sation with the horse-boy ; then the village matrons fol-
lowed ; and afterwards, sauntering by ones and twos, came
the village maidens, who love soldiers as flies love treacle ;
presently the males began to arrive, and lo ! the parson of
the parish, taking his evening walk with Mrs. Dobbs, and
the four children his offspring, at length joined himself to
his flock.

To this audience the little ostler explained that the ani-
mals belonged to two gentlemen now reposing at the Bugle :
one young with gold hair, the other old with grizzled
locks ; both in red coats ; both in jack-boots ; putting the
house into a bustle, and calling for the best. He then dis-
coursed to some of his own companions regarding the merits
of the horses ; and the parson, a learned man, explained to
the villagers, that one of the travellers must be a count, or
at least had a count's horsecloth; pronounced that the stir-
rups were of real silver, and checked the impetuosity of
his son, William Nassau Dobbs, who was for mounting the
animals, and who expressed a longing to fire off one of the
pistols in the holsters.

As this family discussion was taking place, the gentle-
men whose appearance had created so much attention came
to the door of the inn, and the elder and stouter was seen
to smile at his companion ; after which he strolled leisurely
over the green, and seemed to examine with much benevo-
lent satisfaction the assemblage of villagers who were star-
ing at him and the quadrupeds.

Mr. Brock, when he saw the parson's band and cassock,
took off his beaver reverently, and saluted the divine : " I
hope your reverence won't balk the little fellow," said he;
" I think I heard him calling out for a ride, and whether

10 CATHERINE: A STORY.

he should like my horse, or his lordship's horse, I am sure
it is all one. Don't be afraid, sir, the horses are not tired;
we have only come seventy mile to-day, and Prince Eu-
gene once rode a matter of fifty-two leagues (a hundred and
fifty miles), sir, upon that horse, between sunrise and sun-
set."

"Gracious powers! on which horse? " said Doctor Dobbs,
very solemnly.

" On this, sir, — on mine, Corporal Brock of Cutts's black
gelding, William of Nassau. The prince, sir, gave it me
after Blenheim fight, for I had my own legs carried away
by a cannon-ball, just as I cut down two of Saurkrauter's
regiment, who had made the prince prisoner."

" Your own legs, sir ! " said the doctor. " Gracious good-
ness ! this is more and more astonishing ! "

"No, no, not my own legs, my horse's I mean, sir; and
the prince gave me William of Nassau that very day."

To this no direct reply was made; but the doctor looked
at Mrs. Dobbs, and Mrs. Dobbs and the rest of the chil-
dren at her eldest son, who grinned and said, " Isn't it
wonderful? " The corporal to this answered nothing, but,
resuming his account, pointed to the other horse and said,
" That horse, sir — good as mine is — that horse, with the
silver stirrups, is his excellency's horse, Captain Count
Maximilian Gustavus Adolphus von Galgenstein, captain
of horse and of the Holy Roman empire " (he lifted here
his hat with much gravity, and all the crowd, even to the
parson, did likewise). " We call him George of Denmark,
sir, in compliment to her Majesty's husband: he is Blen-
heim too, sir; Marshal Tallard rode him on that day, and
you know how he was taken prisoner by the Count."

" George of Denmark, Marshal Tallard, William of Nas-
sau! this is strange indeed, most wonderful! Why, sir,
little are you aware that there are before you, at this mo-
ment, two other living beings who bear these venerated
names ! My boys, stand forward ! Look here, sir ; these
children have been respectively named after our late sov-
ereign and the husband of our present Queen."

CATHERINE: A STORY. 11

* And very good names too, sir ; ay, and very noble little
fellows too ; and I propose that, with your reverence and
your ladyship's leave, William Nassau here shall ride on
George of Denmark, and George of Denmark shall ride on
William of Nassau."

When this speech of the corporal's was made, the whole
crowd set up a loyal hurrah ! and, with much gravity, the
two little boys were lifted up into the saddles ; and the
corporal leading one, entrusted the other to the horse-boy,
and so together marched stately up and down the green.

The popularity which Mr. Brock gained by this ma-
noeuvre was very great ; but with regard to the names of
the horses and children, which coincided so extraordinarily,
it is but fair to state, that the christening of the quadru-
peds had only taken place about two minutes before the
dragoon's appearance on the green. For if the fact must
be confessed, he, while seated near the inn window, had
kept a pretty wistful eye upon all going on without ; and
the horses marching thus to and fro for the wonderment of
the village, were only placards or advertisements for the
riders.

There was, besides the boy now occupied with the
horses, and the landlord and landlady of the Bugle Inn,
another person connected with that establishment — a very
smart, handsome, vain, giggling servant-girl, about the age
of sixteen, who went by the familiar name of Cat, and at-
tended upon the gentlemen in the parlour, while the land-
lady was employed in cooking their supper in the kitchen.
This young person had been educated in the village poor-
house, and having been pronounced by Doctor Dobbs and
the schoolmaster the idlest, dirtiest, and most passionate
little minx with whom either had ever had to do, she was,
after receiving a very small portion of literary instruction
(indeed it must be stated that the young lady did not know
her letters), bound apprentice at the age of nine years to
Mrs. Score, her relative, and landlady of the Bugle Inn.

If Miss Cat, or Catherine Hall, was a slattern and a
minx, Mrs. Score was a far superior shrew; and for the

12 CATHERINE: A STORY.

seven years of her apprenticeship, the girl was completely
at her mistress's mercy. Yet though wondrously stingy,
jealous, and violent, while her maid was idle and extrava-
gant, and her husband seemed to abet the girl, Mrs. Score
put up with the wench's airs, idleness, and caprices, with-
out ever wishing to dismiss her from the Bugle. The fact
is that Miss Catherine was a great beauty ; and for about
two years, since her fame had begun to spread, the custom
of the inn had also increased vastly. When there was a
debate whether the farmers, on their way from market,
would take t'other pot, Catherine, by appearing with it,
would straightway cause the liquor to be swallowed and
paid for ; and when the traveller who proposed riding that
night and sleeping at Coventry or Birmingham, was asked
by Miss Catherine whether he would like a fire in his bed-
room, he generally was induced to occupy it, although he
might before have vowed to Mrs. Score that he would not
for a thousand guineas be absent from home that night.
The girl had, too, half a dozen lovers in the village ; and
these were bound in honour to spend their pence at the
alehouse she inhabited. 0 woman, lovely woman ! what
strong resolves canst thou twist round thy little finger!
what gunpowder passions canst thou kindle with a single
sparkle of thine eye ! what lies and fribble nonsense canst
thou make us listen to, as they were gospel truth or splen-
did wit! above all, what bad liquor canst thou make us
swallow when thou puttest a kiss within the cup — and we
are content to call the poison wine !

The mountain wine at the Bugle was, in fact, execrable ;
but Mrs. Cat, who served it to the two soldiers, made it
so agreeable to them, that they found it a passable, even a
pleasant task, to swallow the contents of a second bottle.
The miracle had been wrought instantaneously on her ap-
pearance, for whereas at that very moment the Count was
employed in cursing the wine, the landlady, the wine-
grower, and the English nation generally, when the young
woman entered and (choosing so to interpret the oaths)
said, " Coming, your honour ; I think your honour called "

CATHERINE: A STORY. 13

— Gaistavus Adolphus whistled, stared at her very hard,
and seeming quite dumb-stricken by her appearance, con-
tented himself by swallowing a whole glass of mountain by
way of reply.

Mr. Brock was, however, by no means so confounded
as his captain : he was thirty years older than the latter,
and in the course of fifty years of military life had learned
to look on the most dangerous enemy, or the most beauti-
ful woman, with the like daring, devil-may-care determina-
tion to conquer.

"My dear Mary," then said that gentleman, "his honour
is a lord ; as good as a lord, that is ; for all he allows such
humble fellows as I am to drink with him."

Catherine dropped a low curtsey, and said, " Well, I
don't know if you are joking a poor country girl, as all
you soldier gentlemen do ; but his honour looks like a lord,
though I never see one, to be sure."

"Then," said the captain, gathering courage, "how do
you know I look like one, pretty Mary? "

"Pretty Catherine — I mean Catherine, if you please,
sir."

Here Mr. Brock burst into a roar of laughter, and shout-
ing with many oaths that she was right at first, invited her
to give him what he called a buss.

Pretty Catherine turned away from him at this request,
and muttered something about " Keep your distance, low
fellow! buss, indeed! poor country girl," etc., etc., plac-
ing herself, as if for protection, on the side of the captain.
That gentleman looked also very angry; but whether at
the sight of innocence so outraged, or the insolence of the
corporal for daring to help himself first, we cannot say.
"Hark ye, Mr. Brock," he cried very fiercely, "I will
suffer no such liberties in my presence; remember, it is
only my condescension which permits you to share my bot-
tle in this way; take care I don't give you instead a taste
of my cane." So saying, he, in a protecting manner,
placed one hand round Mrs. Catherine's waist, holding the
other clenched very near to the corporal's nose.

14 CATHERINE. A STORY.

Mrs. Catherine, for her share of this action of the
count's, dropped another curtsey, and said, "Thank you,
my lord." . But Galgenstein's threat did not appear to
make any impression on Mr. Brock, as indeed there was
no reason that it should ; for the corporal, at a combat of
fisticuffs, could have pounded his commander into a jelly
in ten minutes : so he contented himself by saying, " Well,
noble captain, there's no harm done ; it is an honour for
poor old Peter Brock to be at table with you, and I am
sorry sure enough."

"In truth, Peter, I believe thou art; thou hast good
reason, eh, Peter? But never fear, man; had I struck
thee, I never would have hurt thee."

" I know you would not," replied Brock, laying his hand
on his heart with much gravity ; and so peace was made,
and healths were drank. Miss Catherine condescended to
put her lips to the captain's glass; who swore that the
wine was thus converted into nectar ; and although the girl
had not previously heard of that liquor, she received the
compliment as a compliment, and smiled and simpered in
return.

The poor thing had never before seen anybody so hand-
some, or so finely dressed as the count ; and, in the sim-
plicity of her coquetry, allowed her satisfaction to be quite
visible. Nothing could be more clumsy than the gentle-
man's mode of complimenting her; but for this, perhaps,
his speeches were more effective than others more delicate
would have been; and though she said to each, "Oh,
now, my lord," and "La, captain, how can you flatter one
so? " and " Your honour's laughing at me," and made such
polite speeches as are used on these occasions, it was mani-
fest from the flutter and blush, and the grin of satisfaction
which lighted up the buxom features of the little country
beauty, that the count's first operations had been highly
successful. When following up his attack, he produced
from his neck a small locket (which had been given him
by a Dutch lady at the Brill), and begged Miss Catherine
to wear it for his sake, and chucked her under the chin,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 15

and called her his little rosebud, it was pretty clear how
things would go : anybody who could see the expression of
Mr. Brock's countenance at this event (and the reader may
by looking at the picture), might judge of the progress of
the irresistible High-Dutch conqueror.

Being of a very vain, communicative turn, our fair bar-
maid gave her two companions not only a pretty long ac-
count of herself, but of many other persons in the village,
whom she could perceive from the window opposite to
which she stood. "Yes, your honour," said she — "my
lord, I mean; sixteen last March, though there's a many
girl in the village that, at my age, is quite chits: there's
Polly Kandall now, that red-haired girl along with Thomas
Curtis, she's seventeen if she's a day, though he is the
very first sweetheart she has had. Well, as I am saying, I
was bred up here in the village — father and mother died
very young, and I was left a poor orphan — well, bless us !
if Thomas haven't kissed her! — to the care of Mrs. Score,
my aunt, who has been a mother to me — a stepmother, you
know; — and I've been to Stratford fair, and to Warwick
many a time; and there's two people who have offered to
marry me, and ever so many who want to, and I won't
have none — only a gentleman, as I've always said; not a
poor clodpole, like Tom there with the red waistcoat (he
was one that asked me), nor a drunken fellow like Sam
Blacksmith yonder, him whose wife has got the black eye,
but a real gentleman, like "

" Like whom, my dear? " said the captain, encouraged.

"La, sir, how can you? why, like our squire, Sir John,
who rides in such a mortal fine gold coach ; or, at least,
like the parson, Doctor Dobbs — that's he in the black
gown, walking with Madam Dobbs in red."

"And are those his children? "

" Yes : two girls and two boys ; and only think, he calls
one William Nassau, and one George Denmark — isn't it
odd? " And from the parson, Mrs. Catherine went on to
speak of several humble personages of the village com-
munity, who, as they are not necessary to our story, need

16 CATHERINE: A STORY.

not be described at full length. It was when, from the
window, Corporal Brock saw the altercation between the
worthy divine and his son, respecting the latter7 s ride, that
he judged it a fitting time to step out on the green, and to
bestow on the two horses those famous historical names
which we have just heard applied to them.

Mr. Brock's diplomacy was, as we have stated, quite
successful; for, when the parson's boys had ridden and
retired along with their mamma and papa, other young
gentlemen of humbler rank in the village were placed upon
George of Denmark and William of Nassau ; the corporal
joking and laughing with all the grown-up people. The
women, in spite of Mr. Brock's age, his red nose, and a
certain squint of his eye, vowed the corporal was a jewel
of a man ; and among the men his popularity was equally
great.

" How much dost thee get, Thomas Clodpole? " said Mr.
Brock to a countryman (he was the man whom Mrs. Cath-
erine had described as her suitor), who had laughed loudest
at some of his jokes; "how much dost thee get for a
week's work, now?"

Mr. Clodpole, whose name was really Bullock, stated
that his wages amounted to "three shillings and a puddn."

"Three shillings and a puddn! — monstrous! — and for
this you toil like a galley-slave, as I have seen them in
Turkey and America, — ay, gentlemen, and in the country
of Prester John ! You shiver out of bed on icy winter
mornings, to break the ice for Ball and Dapple to drink."

" Yes, indeed," said the person addressed, who seemed
astounded at the extent of tie corporal's information.

" Or you clean pig-sty, and take dung down to meadow ;
or you act watch dog and tend sheep ; or you sweep a scythe
over a great field of grass ; and when the sun has scorched
the eyes out of your head, and sweated the flesh out of
your bones, and well-nigh fried the soul out of5 your body,
you go home, to what? — three shillings a week and a
puddn ! Do you get pudding every day? "

"No; only Sundays."

CATHERINE- A STORY. 17

" Do you get money enough? "

"No, sure."

" Do you get beer enough? "

" Oh no, NEVER ! " said Mr. Bullock quite resolutely.

" Worthy Clodpole, give us thy hand ; it shall have beer
enough this day, or my name's not Corporal Brock.
Here's the money, boy! there are twenty pieces in this
purse : and how do you think I got em? and how do you
think I shall get others when these are gone? — by serving
her sacred Majesty to be sure : long life to her, and down
with the French King! "

Bullock, a few of the men, and two or three of the boys,
piped out an hurrah, in compliment to this speech of the
corporal's i but it was remarked that the greater part of the
crowd drew back — the women whispering ominously to
them and looking at the corporal.

"I see, ladies, what it is," said he. "You are fright-
ened, and think I am a crimp come to steal your sweet-
hearts away. What! call Peter Brock a double-dealer? I
tell you what, boys, Jack Churchill himself has shaken
this hand, and drunk a pot with me ; do you think he'd
shake hands with a rogue? Here's Tummas Clodpole has
never had beer enough, and here am I will stand treat to
him and any other gentleman ; am I good enough company
for him? I have money, look you, and like to spend it:
what should 1 be doing dirty actions for — hay, Tummas?"

A satisfactory reply to this query was not, of course,
expected by the corporal nor uttered by Mr. Bullock ; and
the end of the dispute was, that he and three or four of
the rustic bystanders were quite convinced of the good in-
tentions of their new friend, and accompanied him back to
the Bugle, to regale upon the promised beer. Among the
corporal's guests was one young fellow whose dress would
show that he was somewhat better to do in the world than
Clodpole and the rest of the sunburnt ragged troop, who
were marching towards the alehouse. This man was the
only one of his hearers who, perhaps, was sceptical as to
the truth of his stories ; but as soon as Bullock accepted

18 CATHERINE: A STORY.

the invitation to drink, John Hayes, the carpenter (for
such was his name and profession), said, " Well, Thomas,
if thou goest, I will go too."

"I know thee wilt," said Thomas; "thou' It goo any-
where Catty Hall is, provided thou canst goo for nothing."

" Nay, I have a penny to spend as good as the corporal
here."

" A penny to keepy you mean : for all your love for the
lass at the Bugle, did thee ever spend a shilling in the
house? Thee wouldn't go now, but that I am going too,
and the captain here stands treat. "

"Come, come, gentlemen, no quarrelling," said Mr.
Brock. " If this pretty fellow will join us, amen, say I :
there's lots of liquor, and plenty of money to pay the
score. Comrade Tummas, give us thy arm. Mr. Hayes,
you're a hearty cock, I make no doubt, and all such are
welcome. Come along, my gentlemen farmers, Mr. Brock
shall have the honour to pay for you all." And with this,
Corporal Brock, accompanied by Messrs. Hayes, Bullock,
Blacksmith, Baker's boy, Butcher, and one or two others,
adjourned to the inn ; the horses being, at the same time,
conducted to the stable.

Although we have, in this quiet way> and without any
flourishing of trumpets, or beginning of chapters, intro-
duced Mr. Hayes to the public; and although, at first
sight, a sneaking carpenter's boy may seem hardly worthy
of the notice of an intelligent reader, who looks for a good
cut-throat or highwayman for a hero, or a pickpocket at
the very least : this gentleman's words and actions should
be carefully studied by the public, as he is destined to ap-
pear before them under very polite and curious circum-
stances during the course of this history. The speech of
the rustic Juvenal, Mr. Clodpole, had seemed to infer that
Hayes was at once careful of his money and a warm ad-
mirer of Mrs. Catherine of the Bugle : and both the charges
were perfectly true. Hayes's father was reported to be a
man of some substance ; and young John, who was perform-
ing his apprenticeship in the village, did not fail to talk- very

CATHERINE. A STORY. 19

'big of his pretensions to fortune — of his entering, at the
close of his indentures, into partnership with his father —
and of the comfortable farm and house over which Mrs.
John Hayes, whoever she might be, would one day preside.
Thus, next to the barber and butcher, and above even his
own master, Mr. Hayes took rank in the village: and it
must not be concealed that his representation of wealth
had made some impression upon Mrs. Hall, towards whom
the young gentleman had cast the eyes of affection. If he
had been tolerably well-looking, and not pale, rickety, and
feeble as he was j if even he had been ugly, but withal a
man of spirit, it is probable the girl's kindness for him
would have been much more decided. But he was a poor
weak creature, not to compare with honest Thomas Bul-
lock, by at least nine inches; and so notoriously timid,
selfish, and stingy, that there was a kind of shame in re-
ceiving his addresses openly ; and what encouragement
Mrs. Catherine gave him could only be in secret.

But no mortal is wise at all times : and the fact was, that
Hayes, who cared for himself intensely, had set his heart
upon winning Catherine ; and loved her with a desperate,
greedy eagerness and desire of possession, which makes
passions for women often so fierce and unreasonable among
very cold and selfish men. His parents (whose frugality
he had inherited) had tried in vain to wean him from this
passion, and had made many fruitless attempts to engage
him with women who possessed money and desired hus-
bands : but Hayes was, for a wonder, quite proof against
their attractions ; and, though quite ready to acknowledge
the absurdity of his love for a penniless alehouse servant-
girl, nevertheless persisted in it doggedly. " I know I'm
a fool," said he; "and what's more, the girl does not care
for me ; but marry her I must, or I think I shall just die ;
and marry her I will. " For very much to the credit of Miss
Catherine's modesty, she had declared that marriage was
with her a sine qua non, and had dismissed, with the loud-
est scorn and indignation, all propositions of a less proper
nature.

20 CATHERINE: A STORY.

Poor Thomas Bullock was another of her admirers, and
had offered to marry her ; but three shillings a week and a
puddn was not to the girl's taste, and Thomas had been
scornfully rejected. Hayes had also made her a direct
proposal. Catherine did not say no : she was too prudent :
but she was young and could wait ; she did not care for
Mr. Hayes yet enough to marry him — (it did not seem, in-
deed, in the young woman's nature to care for anybody) —
and she gave her adorer flatteringly to understand that, if
nobody better appeared in the course of a few years, she
might be induced to become Mrs. Hayes. It was a dismal
prospect for the poor fellow to live upon the hope of being
one day Mrs. Catherine' $ pis- alter.

In the meantime she considered herself free as the wind,
and permitted herself all the innocent gaieties which that
"chartered libertine," a coquette, can take. She flirted
with all the bachelors, widowers, and married men, in a
manner which did extraordinary credit to her years : and
let not the reader fancy such pastimes unnatural at her
early age. The ladies — Heaven bless them! — are, as a
general rule, coquettes from babyhood upwards. Little
skes of three years old play little airs and graces upon
small heroes of five ; simpering misses of nine make attacks
upon young gentlemen of twelve ; and at sixteen, a well-
grown girl, under encouraging circumstances, — say, she is
pretty, in a family of ugly elder sisters, or an only child
and heiress, or an humble wench at a country inn, like our
fair Catherine — is at the very pink and prime of her co-
quetry : they will jilt you at that age with an ease and arch
infantine simplicity that never can be surpassed in rnaturer
years.

Miss Catherine, then, was a franche coquette, and Mr.
John Hayes was miserable. His life was passed in a
storm of mean passions and bitter jealousies, and desperate
attacks upon the indifference-rock of Mrs. Catherine's
heart, which not all his tempest of love could beat down.
Oh, cruel, cruel pangs of love unrequited! Mean rogues
feel them as well as great heroes. Lives there the reader

CATHERINE: A STORY. 21

of this Magazine (in other words, man in Europe) who
has not felt them many times? — who has not knelt, and
fawned, and supplicated, and wept, and cursed, and raved,
all in vain ; and passed long wakeful nights with ghosts of
dead hopes for company ; shadows of buried remembrances
that glide out of their graves of nights, and whisper, " We
are de*d now, but we were, once ; and we made you happy,
and we come now to mock you : — despair, 0 lover, despair,
and die"? — Oh, cruel pangs! dismal nights! — Now a sly
demon creeps under your nightcap, and drops into your
ear those soft, hope-breathing, sweet words, uttered on the
well-remembered evening: there, in the drawer of your
dressing-table (along with the razors, and Macassar oil),
lies the dead flower that Lady Amelia Wilhelmina wore in
her bosom on the night of a certain ball — the corpse of a
glorious hope that seemed once as if it would live for ever,
so strong was it, so full of joy and sunshine: there, in
your writing-desk, among a crowd of unpaid bills, is the
dirty scrap of paper, thimble-sealed, which came in com-
pany with a pair of muffetees of her knitting (she was a
butcher's daughter, and did all she could, poor thing!),
begging "you would ware them at collidge, and think of
her who " — married a public-house three weeks afterwards,
and cares for you no more now than she does for the pot-
boy. But why multiply instances, or seek to depict the
agony of poor mean-spirited John Hayes? No mistake can
be greater than that of fancying such great emotions of
love are only felt by virtuous or exalted men : depend upon
it, Love, like Death, plays havoc among the pauperum
tabernas, and sports with rich and poor, wicked and virtu-
ous, alike. I have often fancied, for instance, on seeing
the haggard, pale young old-clothesman, who wakes the
echoes of our street with his nasal cry of " Clo' ! " — I have
often, I say, fancied that, besides the load of exuvial coats
and breeches under which he staggers, there is another
weight on him — an atrior euro, at his tail — and while his
unshorn lips and nose together are performing that mock-
ing, boisterous, Jack -in different cry of "Clo% CloM " who

22 CATHERINE: A STORY.

knows what woeful utterances are crying from the heart
within? There he is chaffering with the footman at No.
7, about an old dressing-gown ; you think his whole soul is
bent only on the contest about the garment. Psha ! there
is, perhaps, some faithless girl in Holywell Street who
fills up his heart; and that desultory Jew-boy is a peri-
patetic hell ! Take another instance : — take the man in.
the beef-shop in Saint Martin's Court. There he is, at
this very moment that I am writing, and you are reading
this — there he is, to all appearances quite calm : before the
same round of beef — from morning till sundown — for hun-
dreds of years very likely. Perhaps when the shutters are
closed, and all the world tired and silent, there is HE
silent, but untired — cutting, cutting, cutting. You enter,
you get your meat to your liking, you depart ; and, quite
unmoved, on, on he goes, reaping ceaselessly the Great
Harvest of Beef. You would fancy that if Passion ever
failed to conquer, it had in vain assailed the calm bosom
of THAT MAN. I doubt it, and would give much to know
his history. Who knows what furious ^Etna-flames are
raging underneath the surface of that calm flesh-mountain
— who can tell me that that calmness itself is not DESPAIR?
*****

The reader, if he does not now understand why it was
that Mr. Hayes agreed to drink the corporal's proffered
beer, had better just read the foregoing remarks over again,
and if he does not understand then, why, small praise to
his brains. Hayes could not bear that Mr. Bullock should
have a chance of seeing, and perhaps making love to, Mrs.
Catherine in his absence; and though the young woman
never diminished her coquetries, but, on the contrary,
rather increased them in his presence, it was still a kind
of dismal satisfaction to be miserable in her company.

On this occasion, the disconsolate lover could be wretched
to his heart's content; for Catherine had not a word or a
look for him, but bestowed all her smiles upon the hand-
some stranger who owned the black horse. As for poor
Tummas Bullock, his passion was never violent; and he

CATHERINE: A STORY. 23

was content in the present instance to sigh and drink beer.
He sighed and drunk, sighed and drunk, and drunk again,
until he had swallowed so much of the corporal's liquor as
to be induced to accept a guinea from his purse also ; and
found himself, on returning to reason and sobriety, a sol-
dier of Queen Anne's.

But oh ! fancy the agonies of Mr. Hayes when, seated
with the sergeant's friends at one end of the kitchen, he
saw the captain at the place of honour, and the smiles
which the fair maid bestowed upon him; when, as she
lightly whisked past him with the captain's supper, she,
pointing to the locket, that once reposed on the breast of
the Dutch lady at the Brill, looked archly on Hayes and
said, " See, John, what his lordship has given me ; " and
when John's face became green and purple with rage
and jealousy, Mrs. Catherine laughed ten times louder, and
cried, "Coming, my lord/' in a voice of shrill triumph,
that bored through the soul of Mr. John Hayes and left
him gasping for breath.

On Catherine's other lover, Mr. Thomas, this coquetry
had no effect : he, and two comrades of his, had by this
time quite fallen under the spell of the corporal ; and hope,
glory, strong beer, Prince Eugene, pairs of colours, more
strong beer, her blessed Majesty, plenty more strong beer,
and such subjects, martial and bacchic, whirled through
their dizzy brains at a railroad pace.

And now, if there had been a couple of experienced re-
porters present at the Bugle Inn, they might have taken
down a conversation on love and war — the two themes dis-
cussed by the two parties occupying the kitchen — which,
as the parts were sung together, duet- wise, formed together
some very curious harmonies. Thus, while the captain
was whispering the softest nothings the corporal was shout-
ing the fiercest combats of the war; and, like the gentle-
man at Penelope's table, on it, exiguo pinxit prcelia tota
bero. For example : —

Captain. — "What do you say to a silver trimming,
pretty Catherine? Don't you think a scarlet riding-cloak,

2 Vol. 13

24 CATHERINE: A STORY.

handsomely laced, would become you wonderfully well?—
and a grey hat with a blue feather— and a pretty nag to
ride on— and all the soldiers to present arms as you pass,
and say, There goes the captain's lady? What do you
think of a side-box at Lincoln's Inn playhouse, or of stand-
ing up to a minuet with my Lord Marquis at ? "

Corporal.— "The ball, sir, ran right up his elbow, and
was found the next day by Surgeon Splinter of ours, —
where do you think, sir? — upon my honour as a gentleman
it came out of the nape of his "

Captain. — "Necklace — and a sweet pair of diamond ear-
rings, mayhap — and a little shower of patches, which
ornament a lady's face wondrously — and a lee tie rouge —
though, egad! such peach-cheeks as yours don't want it;—
fie! Mrs. Catherine, I should think the birds must come
and peck at them as if they were fruit "

Corporal. — " Over the wall ; and three-and- twenty of our
fellows jumped after me; by the Pope of Eome, friend
Tummas, that was a day ! — Had you seen how the Moun-
seers looked when four-and-twenty rampaging he-devils,
sword and pistol, cut and thrust, pell-mell came tumbling
into the redoubt ! Why, sir, we left in three minutes as
many artillerymen's heads as there were cannon-balls. It

was Ah sacreM d you, take that; Oh, mon Dieu! run

him through ; Ventrebleu ! and it was ventrebleu with him,
I warrant you: for bleu, in the French language, means
through ; and venire — why, you see, ventre means "

Captain. — " Waists, which are worn now excessive long;
— and for the hoops, if you could but see them — slap my
vitals, my dear, but there was a lady at Warwick's As-
sembly (she came in one of my lord's coaches) who had a
hoop as big as a tent, you might have dined under it com-
fortably;— ha ! ha! 'pon my faith, now "

Corporal.— " And there we found the Duke of Maiibor-
ough seated along with Marshal Tallard, who was endeav-
ouring to drown his sorrow over a cup of Johannisberger
wine ; and a good drink too, my lads, only not to compare
to Warwick beer. ' Who was the man who has done this? '

MRS. CATHERINE'S TEMPTATION

CATHERINE: A STORY. 25

said our noble general. I stepped up. i How many heads
was it,' says he, ' that you cut off?' 'Nineteen,' says
I, ' besides wounding several.' When he heard it (Mr.
Hayes, you don't drink) I'm blest if he didn't burst into
tears! ' Noble, noble fellow,' says he. ' Marshal, you
must excuse me, if I am pleased to hear of the destruction
of your countrymen. Noble, noble fellow! — here's a hun-
dred guineas for you.' Which sum he placed in my hand.
' Nay,' says the marshal, ' the man has done his duty:'
and, pulling out a magnificent gold diamond-hilted snuff-
box, he gave it me "

Mr. Bullock. — " What, a goold snuff-box? Wauns, but
thee wast in luck, corporal ! "

Corporal. — "No, not the snuff-box, but — a pinch of
snuff, — ha! ha! — run me through the body if he didn't!
Could you but have seen the smile on Jack Churchill's
grave face at this piece of generosity ! So, beckoning Colo-
nel Cadogan up to him, he pinched his ear and whis-
pered "

Captain. — "' May I have the honour to dance a minuet
with your ladyship? ' The whole room was in titters at
Jack's blunder; for, as you know very well, poor Lady
Susan has a wooden leg. Ha ! ha ! fancy a minuet and a
wooden leg, hey, my dear? "

Mrs. Catherine. — "Giggle, giggle, giggle: he! he! he!
Oh, captain, you rogue, you "

Second table. — " Haw ! haw ! haw ! Well, you be a foony
mon, sergeant, zure enoff."

* * . * # *

This little specimen of the conversation must be suffi-
cient. It will show pretty clearly that each of the two
military commanders was conducting his operations with
perfect success. Three of the detachment of five attacked
by the corporal surrendered to him : Mr. Bullock, namely,
who gave in at a very early stage of the evening, and igno-
miniously laid down his arms under the table, after stand-
ing not more than a dozen volleys of beer; Mr. Black-
smith's boy, and a labourer whose name we have not been

26 CATHERINE: A STORY.

able to learn. Mr. Butcher himself was on the point of
yielding, when he was rescued by the furious charge of a
detachment that marched to his relief : his wife namely,
who, with two squalling children, rushed into the Bugle,
boxed Butcher's ears, and kept up such a tremendous fire of
oaths and screams upon the corporal, that he was obliged
to retreat; fixing then her claws into Mr. Butcher's hair,
she proceeded to drag him out of the premises; and thus
Mr. Brock was overcome. His attack upon John Hayes
was a still greater failure ; for that young man seemed to
be invincible by drink, if not by love : and at the end of
the drinking-bout was a great deal more cool than the cor-
poral himself; to whom he wished a very polite good-
evening, as calmly he took his hat to depart. He turned
to look at Catherine, to be sure, and then he was not quite
so calm ; but Catherine did not give any reply to his good-
night. She was seated at the Captain's table playing at
cribbage with him ; and though Count Gustavus Maximil-
ian lost every game, he won more than he lost, — sly fel-
low!— and Mrs. Catherine was no match for him.

It is to be presumed that Hayes gave some information
to Mrs. Score, the landlady; for, on leaving the kitchen,
he was seen to linger for a moment in the bar; and very
soon after Mrs. Catherine was called away from her attend-
ance on the count, who, when he asked for a sack and
toast, was furnished with those articles by the landlady
herself; and, during the half -hour in which he was em-
ployed in consuming this drink, Monsieur de Galgenstein
looked very much disturbed and out of humour, and cast
his eyes to the door perpetually ; but no Catherine came.
At last, very sulkily, he desired to be shown to bed, and
walked as well as he could (for, to say truth, the noble
count was by this time somewhat unsteady on his legs) to
his chamber. It was Mrs. Score who showed him to it,
and closed the curtains, and pointed triumphantly to the
whiteness of the sheets.

"It's a very comfortable room," said she, "though not
the best in the house ; which belong of right to your lord-

CATHERINE: A STORY. 27

ship's worship ; but our best room has two beds, and Mr.
Corporal is in that, locked and double-locked, with his
three tipsy recruits. But your honour will find this here
bed comfortable and well-aired; I've slept in it myself this
eighteen years."

" What, my good woman, you are going to sit up, eh?
It's cruel hard on you, madam."

"Sit up, my lord? bless you, no! I shall have half of
our Cat's bed; as I always do when there's company.
And with this Mrs. Score curtseyed and retired.

* * * * *

Very early the next morning the active landlady and her
bustling attendant had prepared the ale and bacon for the
corporal and his three converts, and had set a nice white
cloth for the captain's breakfast. The young blacksmith
did not eat with much satisfaction ; but Mr. Bullock and
his friend betrayed no sign of discontent, except such as
may be consequent upon an evening's carouse. They
walked very contentedly to be registered before Doctor
Dobbs, who was also justice of the peace, and went in
search of their slender bundles, and took leave of their few-
acquaintances without, much regret ; for the gentlemen had
been bred in the workhouse, and had not, therefore, a
large circle of friends.

It wanted only an hour of noon, and the noble count had
not descended. The men were waiting for him, and spent
much of the Queen's money (earned by the sale of their
bodies overnight) while thus expecting him. Perhaps
Mrs. Catherine expected him too, for she had offered many
times to run up — with my lord's boots — with the hot water
— to show Mr. Brock the way; who sometimes conde-
scended to officiate as barber. But on all these occasions
Mrs. Score had prevented her ; not scolding, but with much
gentleness and smiling. At last, more gentle and smiling
than ever, she came downstairs and said, "Catherine,
darling, his honour, the count, is mighty hungry this
morning, and vows he could pick the wing of a fowl. Bun
down, child, to Farmer Brigg's and get one : pluck it be-

28 CATHERINE: A STORY.

fore you bring it, you know, and we will make his lordship
a pretty breakfast. "

Catherine took up her basket, and away she went by the
backyard, through the stables. There she heard the little
horse-boy whistling and hissing after the manner of horse-
boys ; and there she learned that Mrs. Score had been in-
venting an ingenious story to have her out of the way.
The ostler said he was just going to lead the two horses
round to the door. The corporal had been, and they were
about to start on the instant for Stratford.

The fact was that Count Gustavus Adolphus, far from
wishing to pick the wing of a fowl, had risen with a hor-
ror and loathing for everything in the shape of food, and
for any liquor stronger than small beer. Of this he had
drunk a cup, and said he should ride immediately to Strat-
ford ; and when, on ordering his horses, he had asked po-
litely of the landlady, " why the d she always came

up, and why she did not send the girl," Mrs. Score in-
formed the count that her Catherine was gone out for a
walk along with the young man to whom she was to be
married, and would not be visible that day. On hearing
this the captain ordered his horses that moment, and abused
the wine, the bed, the house, the landlady, and everything
connected with the Bugle Inn.

Out the horses came ; the little boys of the village gath-
ered round ; the recruits, with bunches of ribands in their
beavers, appeared presently; Corporal Brock came swag-
gering out, and, slapping the pleased blacksmith on the
back, bade him mount his horse, while the boys hurrah' d.
Then the captain came out, gloomy and majestic ; to him
Mr. Brock made a military salute, which clumsily, and
with much grinning, the recruits imitated. "I shall walk
on with these brave fellows, your honour, and meet you at
Stratford," said the corporal. "Good," said the captain,
as he mounted. The landlady curtseyed; the children
hurrah'd more ; the little horse-boy, who held the bridle
with one hand and the stirrup with the other, and expected
a crown-piece from such a noble gentleman, got only a kick

CATHERINE: A STORY. 29

and a curse, as Count von Galgenstein shouted, " D — you
all, get out of the way!" and galloped off; and John
Hayes, who had been sneaking about the inn all the morn-
ing, felt a weight off his heart when he saw the captain

ride off alone.

*****

Oh, foolish Mrs. Score ! Oh, dolt of a John Hayes ! If
the landlady had allowed the captain and the maid to have
their way, and meet but for a minute before recruits, ser-
geant, and all, it is probable that no harm would have been
done, and that this history would never have been written.

When Count von Galgenstein had ridden half a mile on
the Stratford road, looking as black and dismal as Napoleon
galloping from the romantic village of Waterloo, he espied,
a few score yards onwards, at the turn of the road, a cer-
tain object which caused him to check his horse suddenly,
brought a tingling red into his cheeks, and made his heart
to go thump, thump, against his side. A young lass was
sauntering slowly along the footpath, with a basket swing-
ing from one hand, and a bunch of hedge-flowers in the
other. She stopped once or twice to add a fresh one to
her nosegay, and might have seen him, the captain thought ;
but no, she never looked directly towards him, and still
walked on. Sweet innocent: she was singing as if none
were near ; her voice went soaring up to the clear sky, and
the captain put his horse on the grass, that the sound of
the hoofs might not disturb the music.

" When the kine had given a pailful "—sang she,

" And the sheep came bleating home,
Poll, who knew it would be healthful,

Went a-walking out with Tom.
Hand in hand, sir, on the land, sir,

As they walked to and fro,
Tom made jolly love to Polly,

But was answered no, no, no."

The captain had put his horse on the grass, that the sound of
his hoofs might not disturb the music ; and now he pushed its
head on to the bank, where straightway William of Orange
began chewing of such a salad as grew there. And now the

30 CATHERINE: A STORY.

captain slid off stealthily ; and smiling comically, and hitch-
ing up his great jack-boots, and moving forward with a
jerking tiptoe step, he, just as she was trilling the last
o-o-o of the last no in the above poem of Tom D'Urfey,
came up to her, and, touching her lightly on the waist,
said —

"My dear, your very humble servant."

Mrs. Catherine (you know you have found her out long
ago !) gave a scream and a start, and would have turned
pale if she could. As it was, she only shook all over, and
said —

" Oh, sir, how you did frighten me ! "

"Frighten you, my rosebud! why, run me through, Fd
die rather than frighten you. Gad, child, tell me now, am
I so very frightful? "

" Oh no, your honour, I didn't mean that ; only I wasn't
thinking to meet you here, or that you would ride so early
at all: for, if you please, sir, I was going to fetch a
chicken for your lordship's breakfast, as my mistress said
you would like one ; and I thought, instead of going to
Farmer Brigg's, down Birmingham way, as she told me,
I'd go to Farmer Bird's, where the chickens is better, sir
— my lord, I mean."

" Said I'd like a chicken for breakfast, the old cat! why,
I told her I would not eat a morsel to save me — I was so
dru — , I mean I ate such a good supper last night — and I
bade her to send me a pot of small beer, and to tell you to
bring it ; and the wretch said you were gone out with your
sweetheart "

"What! John Hayes, the creature! Oh, what a
naughty story -telling woman ! "

" You were walked out with your sweetheart, and I was
not to see you any more ; and I was mad with rage, and
ready to kill myself; I was, my dear."

"Oh, sir! pray, pray don't."

"For your sake, my sweet angel?"

" Yes, for my sake, if such a poor girl as me can per-
suade noble gentlemen."

CATHERINE: A STORY. 31

"Well, then, for your sake, I won't; no, I'll live; but
why live? Hell and fury, if I do live I'm miserable with-
out you ; I am, — you know I am, — you adorable, beautiful,
cruel, wicked Catherine ! "

Catherine's reply to this was "La, bless me! I do be-
lieve your horse is running away." And so he was, for,
having finished his meal in the hedge, he first looked tow-
ards his master and paused, as it were, irresolutely; then,
by a sudden impulse, flinging up his tail and his hind legs,
he scampered down the road.

Mrs. Hayes ran lightly after the horse, and the captain
after Mrs. Hayes ; and the horse ran quicker and quicker
every moment, and might have led them a long chase —
when lo ! debouching from a twist in the road, came the
detachment of cavalry and infantry under Mr. Brock. The
moment he was out of sight of the village, that gentleman
had desired the blacksmith to dismount, and had himself
jumped into the saddle, maintaining the subordination of
his army by drawing a pistol, and swearing that he would
blow out the brains of any person who attempted to run.
When the captain's horse came near the detachment he
paused, and suffered himself to be caught by Tummas Bul-
lock, who held him until the owner and Mrs. Catherine
came up.

Mr. Bullock looked comically grave when he saw the
pair ; but the corporal graciously saluted Mrs. Catherine,
and said it was a fine day for walking.

" La, sir, and so it is," said she, panting in a very pretty
and distressing way, " but not for running. I do protest
— ha! — and vow that I really can scarcely stand. I'm so
tired of running after that naughty, naughty horse ! "

"How do, Cattern?" said Thomas, "zee, I be going a
zouldering because thee wouldn't have me;7' and here Mr.
Bullock grinned. Mrs. Catherine made no sort of reply,
but protested once more she should die of running. If the
truth were told, she was somewhat vexed at the arrival of the
corporal's detachmentj and had had very serious thoughts
of finding herself quite tired just as he came in sight.

32 CATHERINE: A STORY.

A sudden thought brought a smile of bright satisfaction
in the captain's eyes, — he mounted the horse which Tum-
mas still held, — " Tired, Mrs. Catherine ! " said he, " and
for my sake? By heavens, you shan't walk a step farther!
No, you shall ride back with a guard of honour! Back to
the village, gentlemen! — right about face! Show those
fellows, corporal, how to right about face. Now, my
dear, mount behind me on Snowball; he's easy as a sedan.
Put your dear little foot on the toe of my boot. There
now, — up! — jump! hurrah!"

" That's not the way, captain," shouted out Thomas, still
holding on the rein as the horse began to move; "thee
woant goo with him, will thee, Catty? "

But Mrs. Catherine, though she turned away her head,
never let go her hold round the captain's waist; and he,
swearing a dreadful oath at Thomas, struck him across the
face and hands with his riding- whip; and the poor fellow,
who, at the first cut, still held on the rein, dropped it at
the second, and as the pair galloped off, sate down on the
roadside, and fairly began to weep.

" March, you dog ! " shouted out the corporal a minute
after ; and so he did : and when next he saw Mrs. Cath-
erine she was the captain's lady sure enough, and wore a
grey hat with a blue feather, and red riding-coat trimmed
with silver lace. But Thomas was then on a bare-backed
horse, which Corporal Brock was flanking round a ring,
and he was so occupied looking between his horse's ears,
that he had no time to cry then, and at length got the bet-
ter of his attachment.

This being a good opportunity for closing Chapter I., we
ought, perhaps, to make some apologies to the public for
introducing them to characters that are so utterly worth-
less ; as we confess all our heroes, with the exception of
Mr. Bullock, to be. In this we have consulted nature and
history, rather than the prevailing taste and the general
manner of authors. The amusing novel of " Ernest Mal-
travers," for instance, opens with a seduction; but then it

CATHERINE: A STORY. 33

is performed by people of the strictest virtue on both sides ;
and there is so much religion and philosophy in the heart
of the seducer, so much tender innocence in the soul of the
seduced, that — bless the little dears ! — their very peccadil-
loes make one interested in them ; and their naughtiness
becomes quite sacred, so deliciously is it described. Now,
if we are to be interested by rascally actions, let us have
them with plain faces, and let them be performed, not by
virtuous philosophers, but by rascals. Another clever
class of novelists adopt the contrary system, and create in-
terest by making their rascals perform virtuous actions.
Against these popular plans we here solemnly appeal. We
say, let your rogues in novels act like rogues, and your
honest men like honest men ; don't let us have any juggling
and thimblerigging with virtue and vice, so that, at the
end of three volumes, the bewildered reader shall not
know which is which; don't let us find ourselves kindling
at the generous qualities of thieves, and sympathising with
the rascalities of noble hearts. For our own part, we know
what the public likes, and have chosen rogues for our char-
acters, and have taken a story from the " Newgate Calen-
dar, " which we hope to follow out to edification. Among the
rogues, at least, we will have nothing that shall be mis-
taken for virtues. And if the British public (after calling
for three or four editions) shall give up, not only our ras-
cals, but the rascals of all other authors, we shall be con-
tent,— we shall apply to government for a pension, and
think that our duty is done.

34 CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTER II.

IN WHICH ARE DEPICTED THE PLEASURES OF A
SENTIMENTAL ATTACHMENT.

IT will not be necessary, for the purpose of this history,
to follow out very closely all the adventures which oc-
curred to Mrs. Catherine from the period when she quitted
the Sun and became the captain's lady; for, although it
would be just as easy to show as not, that the young
woman, by following the man of her heart, had only
yielded to an innocent impulse, and by remaining with him
for a certain period, had proved the depth and strength of
her affection for him, — although we might make very ten-
der and eloquent apologies for the error of both parties,
the reader might possibly be disgusted at such descriptions
and such arguments, which, besides, are already done to
his hand in the novel of " Ernest Maltravers " before men-
tioned. Sir Edward is a mighty man, but even he cannot
prove black to be white ; no, not if he were to write a hun-
dred dozen of volumes on the point, instead of half a
dozen. We, too, are not small beer in our way. After all,
Solomons is somebody. Sir Ikey Solomons would not
sound badly ; and who knows whether, some day or other,
another batch of us literary chaps may not be called upon
by a grateful sovereign to kneel gracefully on one knee,
majesty waving over our heads a glittering cut and thrust,
and saying with sweet accents, " Rise up, Sir Something
Whatdyecallum ! " — who knows? Egad! if the Whigs re-
main in, I, for my part, will be content with nothing less
than a blood-red hand on the Solomons' seal. But this is
sheer. talk, and we are flying away from the real subject;
the respectability, namely, of the connection between Mrs.
Hall and his Excellency the Count von Galgenstein.

From the gentleman's manner towards Mrs. Catherine,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 35

and from his brilliant and immediate success, the reader
will doubtless have concluded, in the first place, that Gus-
tavus Adolphus had not a very violent affection for Mrs.
Cat ; in the second place, that he was a professional lady-
killer, and therefore likely at some period to resume his
profession ; thirdly, and to conclude, that a connection so
begun, must, in the nature of things, be likely to end
speedily.

And so, to do the count justice, it would, if he had been
allowed to follow his own inclination entirely; for (as
many young gentlemen will, and yet no praise to them) in
about a week he began to be indifferent, in a month to be
weary, in two months to be angry, in three to proceed to
blows and curses; and, in short, to repent most bitterly
the hour when he had ever been induced to present Mrs.
Catherine the toe of his boot, for the purpose of lifting
her on to his horse.

" Egad ! " said he to the corporal one day, when confid-
ing his griefs to Mr. Brock, " I wish my toe had been cut
off before ever it served as a ladder to this little vixen."

"Or perhaps your honour would wish to kick her down-
stairs with it? " delicately suggested Mr. Brock.

" Kick her ! why, the wench would hold so fast by the
banisters that I could not kick her down, Mr. Brock. To
tell you a bit of a secret, I have tried as much — not to kick
her — no, no, not kick her, certainly, that's ungentlemanly;
but to induce her to go back to that cursed pothouse where
we fell in with her. I have given her many hints "

"Oh yes, I saw your honour give her one yesterday —
with a mug of beer. By the laws, as the ale run all down
her face, and she clutched a knife to run at you, I don't
think I ever saw such a she-devil ! That woman will do
for your honour some day, if you provoke her."

"Do for me? No, hang it, Mr. Brock, never! She
loves every hair of my head, sir; she worships me, cor-
poral. Egad, yes! she worships me; and would much
sooner apply a knife to her own weasand, than to scratch
my little finger!"

36 CATHERINE: A STORY.

M I think she does," said Mr. Brock.

"I am sure of it," said the captain. "Women, look
you, are like dogs, they like to be ill-treated ; they like it,
sir, I know they do. I never had anything to do with a
woman in my life but I ill-treated her, and she liked me
the better."

"Mrs. Hall ought to be very fond of you then, sure
enough ! " said Mr. Corporal.

"Very fond! — ha, ha! corporal, you wag you — and so
she is very fond. Yesterday, after the knif e-and-beer scene
— no wonder I threw the liquor in her face, it was so dev'-
lish flat that no gentleman could drink it, and I told her
never to draw it till dinner-time "

" Oh, it was enough to put an angel in a fury ! " said
Brock.

"Well, yesterday, after the knife business, when you
had got the carver out of her hand, off she flings to her
bedroom, will not eat a bit of dinner, forsooth, and remains
locked up for a couple of hours. At two o'clock afternoon
(I was over a tankard), out comes the little she-devil, her
face pale, her eyes bleared, and the tip of her nose as red
as fire with sniffling and weeping. Making for my hand,
1 Max,' says she, ' will you forgive me? ' ' What! ' says
I. ' Forgive a murderess? ' says I. ( No, curse me, never! '
* Your cruelty will kill me/ sobbed she. ' Cruelty be
hanged! ' says I; t didn't you draw that beer an hour be-
fore dinner? ' She could say nothing to this, you know,
and I swore that every time she did so, I would fling it
into her face again. Whereupon back she flounced to her
chamber, where she wept and stormed until night-tiine."

" When you forgave her? "

"I did forgive her, that's positive. You see I had
supped at the Rose along with Tom Trippet and half a
dozen pretty fellows ; and I had eased a great fat-headed
Warwickshire land- junker — what d'ye call him? — squire,
of forty pieces; and I'm dev'lish good-humoured when
I've won, and so Cat and I made it up : but I've taught
her never to bring me stale beer again— ha, ha ! "

CATHERINE: A STORY. 37

This conversation will explain, a great deal better than
any description of ours, however eloquent, the state of
things as between Count Maximilian and Mrs. Catherine,
and the feelings which they entertained for each other.
The woman loved him, that was the fact. And, as we
have shown in a former chapter, how John Hayes, a mean-
spirited fellow as ever breathed, in respect of all other
passions a pigmy, was in the passion of love a giant, and
followed Mrs. Catherine with a furious longing which
might seem at the first to be foreign to his nature ; in the
like manner, and playing at cross-purposes, Mrs. Hall had
become smitten of the captain ; and, as he said truly, only
liked him the better for the brutality which she received
at his hands. For it is my opinion, madam, that love is a
bodily infirmity, from which humankind can no more
escape than from small-pox ; and which attacks every one
of us, from the first duke in the peerage down to Jack
Ketch inclusive ; which has no respect for rank, virtue, or
roguery in man, but sets each in his turn in a fever ; which
breaks out, the deuce knows how or why, and, raging its
appointed time, fills each individual of the one sex with a
blind fury and longing for some one of the other (who
may be pure, gentle, blue-eyed, beautiful, and good : or
vile, shrewish, squinting, hunch-backed, and hideous, ac-
cording to circumstances and luck) ; which dies away, per-
haps in the natural course, if left to have its way, but
which contradiction causes to rage more furiously than
ever. Is not history, from the Trojan war upwards and
downwards, full of instances of such strange inexplicable
passions? Was not Helen, by the most moderate calcula-
tion, ninety years of age when she went off with his Royal
Highness Prince Alexander of Troy? Was not Madame
La Valliere ill-made, blear-eyed, tallow-complexioned,
scraggy, and with hair like tow? Was not Wilks, not
Wilks late of Boston, nor the celebrated Wilks of Paris,
but Wilks of No. 45, the ugliest, charrningest, most suc-
cessful man in the world? Such instances might be carried
out so as to fill a dozen double numbers of Fras&r, but oui

38 CATHERINE: A STORY.

bono ? Love is fate, and not will ; its origin not to be ex-
plained, its progress irresistible, and the best proof of this
may be had at Bow Street any day, where, if you ask any
officer of the establishment how they take most thieves, he
will tell you at the houses of the women. They must see
the dear creatures, though they hang for it ; they will love,
though they have their neeks in the halter. And with re-
gard to the other position, that ill-usage on the part of the
man does not destroy the affection of the woman, have we
not numberless police -reports showing how, when a by-
stander would beat a husband for beating his wife, man
and wife fall together on the interloper, and punish him
for his meddling?

These points, then, being settled to the satisfaction of
all parties, the reader will not be disposed to question the
assertion, that Mrs. Hall had a real affection for the gal-
lant count, and grew, as Mr. Brock was pleased to say,
like a beefsteak, more tender as she was thumped. Poor
thing, poor thing! his flashy airs and smart looks had
overcome her in a single hour ; and no more is wanted to
plunge into love over head and ears ; no more is wanted to
make a first love with (and a woman's first love lasts for
ever, a man's twenty-fourth or fifth is perhaps the best) :
you can't kill it, do what you will ; it takes root, and lives
and even grows, never mind what the soil may be in which
it is planted, or the bitter weather it must bear — often as
one has seen a wall-flower grow — out of a stone.

In the first weeks of their union, the count had at least
been liberal to her ; she had a horse and fine clothes, and
received abroad some of those flattering attentions which
she held at such high price. He had, however, some ill-
luck at play, or had been forced to pay some bills, or had
some other satisfactory reason for being poor, and his
establishment was very speedily diminished. He argued
that, as Mrs. Catherine had been accustomed to wait on
others all her life, she might now wait upon herself and
him; and when the incident of the beer arose, she had
been for some time employed as the counts housekeeper,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 39

with unlimited superintendence over his comfort, his cel-
lar, his linen, and such matters as bachelors are delighted
to make over to active female hands. To do the poor
wretch justice, she actually kept the man's menage in the
best order ; nor was there any point of extravagance with
which she could be charged, except a little extravagance of
dress displayed on the very few occasions when he con-
descended to walk abroad with her, and extravagance of
language and passion in the frequent quarrels they had to-
gether. Perhaps in such a connection as subsisted betweea
this precious couple, these faults are inevitable on the part
of the woman. She must be silly and vain, and will pretty
surely, therefore, be fond of dress ; and she must, disguise
it as she will, be perpetually miserable and brooding over
her fall, which will cause her to be violent and quarrel-
some.

Such, at least, was Mrs. Hall; and very early did the
poor vain, misguided wretch begin to reap what she had
sown.

For a man, remorse under these circumstances is perhaps
uncommon. No stigma affixes on him for betraying a
woman ; no bitter pangs of mortified vanity ; no insulting
looks of superiority from his neighbour, and no sentence of
contemptuous banishment is read against him; these all
fall on the tempted, and not on the tempter, who is per-
mitted to go free. The chief thing that a man learns after
having successfully practised on a woman, is to despise the
poor wretch whom he has won. The game, in fact, and
the glory, such as it is, is all his, and the punishment
alone falls upon her. Consider this, ladies, when charm-
ing young gentlemen come to woo you with soft speeches.
You have nothing to win, except wretchedness, and scorn,
and desertion. Consider this, and be thankful to your
Solomons for telling it.

It came to pass, then, that the count had come to have a
perfect contempt and indifference for Mrs. Hall — and how
should he not for a young person who had given herself up
to him so easily? — and would have been quite glad of any

40 CATHERINE: A STORY.

opportunity of parting with her. But there was a certain
lingering shame about the man, which prevented him from
saying at once and abruptly, " Go ! " and the poor thing
did not choose to take such hints as fell out in the course
of their conversation and quarrels ; and so they kept on to-
gether, he treating her with simple insult, and she hanging
on desperately, by whatever feeble twig she could find, to
the rock beyond which all was naught or death to her.

Well, after the night with Tom Trippet and the pretty
fellows at the Rose, to which we have heard the count al-
lude in the conversation just recorded, Fortune smiled on
him a good deal; for the Warwickshire squire, who had
lost forty pieces on that occasion, insisted on having his re-
venge the night after; when, strange to say, a hundred
and fifty more found their way into the pouch of his excel-
lency the count. Such a sum as this quite set the young
nobleman afloat again, and brought back a pleasing equa-
nimity to his mind, which had been a good deal disturbed
in the former difficult circumstances, and in this, for a lit-
tle and to a certain extent, poor Cat had the happiness to
share. He did not alter the style of his establishment,
which consisted, as before, of herself and a small person
who acted as scourer, kitchen-wench, and scullion, Mrs.
Catherine always putting her hand to the principal pieces
of the dinner ; but he treated his mistress with tolerable
good-humour ; or, to speak more correctly, with such bear-
able brutality, as might be expected from a man like him to
a woman in her condition. Besides, a certain event was
about to take place, which not unusually occurs in circum-
stances of this nature, and Mrs. Catherine was expecting
soon to lie in.

The captain, distrusting naturally the strength of his
own paternal feelings, had kindly endeavoured to provide
a parent for the coming infant, and to this end had opened
a negotiation with our friend, Mr. Thomas Bullock, declar-
ing that Mrs. Cat should have a fortune of twenty guineas,
and reminding Tummas of his ancient flame for her; but
Mr. Tummas, when this proposition was made to him, de-

CATHERINE: A STORY. 41

clined it, with many oaths, and vowed that he was per-
fectly satisfied with his present bachelor condition. In
this dilemma Mr Brock stepped forward, who declared
himself very ready to accept Mrs. Catherine and her for-
tune, and might possibly have become the possessor of
both, had not Mrs. Cat, the moment she heard of the pro-
posed arrangement, with fire in her eyes, and rage — oh,
how bitter! — in her heart, prevented the success of the
measure by proceeding incontinently to the first justice of
the peace, and there swearing before his worship who was
the father of the coming child.

This proceeding, which she had expected would cause
not a little indignation on the part of her lord and master,
was received by him, strangely enough, with considerable
good-humour ; he swore that the wench had served him a
good trick, and was rather amused at the anger, the out-
break of rage and contumely, and the wretched, wretched
tears of heart-sick desperation which followed her an-
nouncement of this step to him. For Mr. Brock, she re-
pelled his offer with scorn and loathing, and treated the
notion of a union with Mr. Bullock with yet fiercer con-
tempt. Marry him, indeed ! a workhouse pauper carrying
a brown Bess ! She would have died sooner, she said, or
robbed on the highway; and so, to do her justice, she
would ; for the little minx was one of the vainest creatures
in existence, and vanity (as I presume everybody knows)
becomes the principle in certain hearts of women, their
moral spectacles, their conscience, their meat and drink,
their only rule of right and wrong.

As for Mr. Tummas, he, as we have seen, was quite as
unfriendly to the proposition as she could be ; and the cor-
poral, with a good deal of comical gravity, vowed that, as
he could not be satisfied in his dearest wishes, he would take
to drinking for a consolation, which he straightway did.

"Come, Tummas," said he to Mr. Bullock, "since we
can't have the girl of our hearts, why, hang it, Turnmas,
let's drink her health ; " to which Bullock had no objection.
And so strongly did the disappointment weigh upon the

42 CATHERINE: A STORY.

honest Corporal Brock, that, even when, after unheard-of
quantities of beer, he could scarcely utter a word, he was
seen absolutely to weep, and, in accents almost unintelli-
gible, to curse his confounded ill-luck, at being deprived,
not of a wife, but of a child : he wanted one so, he said,
to comfort him in his old age.

The time of Mrs. Catherine's couches drew near, arrived,
and was gone through safely. She presented to the world
a chopping boy, who might use, if he liked, the Galgenstein
arms with a bar-sinister; and in her new cares and duties
had not so many opportunities as usual of quarrelling with
the count; who, perhaps, respected her situation, or, at
least, was so properly aware of the necessity of quiet to
her, that he absented himself from home morning, noon,
and night.

The captain had, it must be confessed, turned these con-
tinued absences to a considerable worldly profit, for he
played incessantly; and, since his first victory over the
Warwickshire squire, Fortune had been so favourable to
him, that he had at various intervals amassed a sum of
nearly a thousand pounds, which he used to bring home as
he won, and which he deposited in a strong iron chest, cun-
ningly screwed down by himself under his own bed. This
Mrs. Catherine regularly made, and the treasure under-
neath it could be no secret to her. However, the noble
count kept the key, and bound her by many solemn oaths
(that he discharged at her himself) not to reveal to any
other person the existence of the chest and its contents.

But it is not in a woman's nature to keep such secrets;
and the captain, who left her for days and days, did not
reflect that she would seek for confidants elsewhere. For
want of a female companion, she was compelled to bestow
her sympathies upon Mr. Brock; who, as the count's cor-
poral, was much in his lodgings, and who did manage to
survive the disappointment which he had experienced by
Mrs. Catherine's refusal of him.

About two minutes after the infant's birth, the captain,
who was annoyed by its squalling, put it abroad to nurse,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 43

and dismissed its attendant. Mrs. Catherine now resumed
her household duties, and was, as before, at once mistress
and servant of the establishment. As such, she had the
keys of the beer, and was pretty sure of the attentions of
the corporal; who became, as we have said, in the count's
absence, his lady's chief friend and companion. After the
manner of ladies, she very speedily confided to him all her
domestic secrets ; the causes of her former discontent ; the
count's ill-treatment of her; the wicked names he called
her ; the prices that all her gowns had cost her ; how he
beat her ; how much money he won and lost at play ; how
she had once pawned a coat for him ; how he had four new
ones, laced, and paid for ; what was the best way of clean-
ing and keeping gold-lace, of making cherry-brandy, pick-
ling salmon, etc. etc. Her confidences upon all these sub-
jects used to follow each other in rapid succession ; and
Mr. Brock became, ere long, quite as well acquainted with
the captain's history for the last year as the count himself,
—for he was careless, and forgot things ; women never do.
They chronicle all the lover's small actions, his words, his
headaches, the dresses he has worn, the things he has liked
for dinner on certain days, — all which circumstances com-
monly are expunged from the male brain immediately after
they have occurred, but remain fixed with the female.

To Brock, then, and to Brock only (for she knew no
other soul), Mrs. Cat breathed in strictest confidence the
history of the count's winnings, and his way of disposing
of them ; how he kept his money screwed down in an iron
chest in their room ; and a very lucky fellow did Brock
consider his officer for having such a large sum. He and
Cat looked at the chest ; it was small, but mighty strong,
sure enough, and would defy picklocks and thieves. Well,
if any man deserved money, the captain did (" though he
might buy me a few yards of that lace I love so," inter-
rupted Mrs. Cat), — if any man deserved money, he did,
for he spent it like a prince, and his hand was always in
his pocket.

It must now be stated, that Monsieur de Galgenstein

44 CATHERINE: A STORY.

had, during Cat's seclusion, cast his eyes upon a young lady
of good fortune, who frequented the Assembly at Birming-
ham, and who was not a little smitten by his title and per-
son. The "four new coats, laced, and paid for," as Cat
said, had been purchased, most probably, by his excellency
for the purpose of dazzling the heiress ; and he and the
coats had succeeded so far as to win from the young
woman an actual profession of love, and a promise of mar-
riage, provided Pa would consent. This was obtained, —
for Pa was a tradesman ; and I suppose every one of the
readers of this Magazine has remarked how great an effect
a title has on the lower classes. Yes, thank Heaven!
there is about a freeborn Briton a cringing baseness, and
lick-spittle awe of rank, which does not exist under any
tyranny in Europe, and is only to be found here and in
America.

All these negotiations had been going on quite unknown
to Cat ; and, as the captain had determined, before two
months were out, to fling that young woman on the pave,
he was kind to her in the meanwhile : people always are
when they are swindling you, or meditating an injury
against you.

The poor girl had much too high an opinion of her own
charms to suspect that the count could be unfaithful to
them, and had no notion of the plot that was formed
against her. But Mr. Brock had ; for he had seen many
times a gilt coach with a pair of fat white horses ambling
in the neighbourhood of the town, and the captain on his
black steed, caracolling majestically by its side ; and he had
remarked a fat, pudgy, pale-haired woman treading heavily
down the stairs of the Assembly, leaning on the captain's
arm: all these Mr. Brock had seen, not without reflection.
Indeed, the count one day, in great good-humour, had
slapped him on the shoulder, and told him that he was
about speedily to purchase a regiment ; when, by his great
gods, Mr. Brock should have a pair of colours. Perhaps
this promise occasioned his silence to Mrs. Catherine hith-
erto ; perhaps he never would have peached at all, and per-

CATHERINE; A STORY. 45

haps, therefore, this history would never have been writ-
ten, but for a small circumstance which occurred at this
period.

" What can you want with that drunken old corporal al-
ways about your quarters? " said Mr. Trippet to the count
one day, as they sat over their wine, in the midst of a
merry company, at the captain's rooms.

" What ! " said he, " old Brock? The old thief has been
more useful to me than many a better man. He is brave
in a row as a lion, as cunning in intrigue as a fox ; he can
nose a dun at an inconceivable distance, and scent out a
pretty woman be she behind ever so many stone walls. If
a gentleman wants a good rascal now, I can recommend
him. I am going to reform, you know, and must turn him
out of my service."

"And pretty Mrs. Cat?"

"Oh, curse pretty Mrs. Cat! she may go too."

" And the brat? "

" Why, you have parishes, and what not, here in Eng-
land. Egad ! if a gentleman were called upon to keep all
his children, there would be no living ; no, stop my vitals !
Croesus couldn't stand it."

"No, indeed," said Mr. Trippet; "you are right; and
when a gentleman marries, he is bound in honour to give
up such low connections as are useful when he is a bach-
elor."

"Of course; and give them up I will, when the sweet
Mrs. Dripping is mine. As for the girl, you can have her,
Tom Trippet, if you take a fancy to her ; and as for the
corporal, he may be handed over to my successor in Cutts's,
— for I will have a regiment to myself, that's poz; and to
take with me such a swindling, pimping, thieving, brandy-
faced rascal as this Brock will never do. Egad! he's a
disgrace to the service. As it is, I've often a mind to have
the superannuated vagabond drummed out of the corps."

Although this resume of Mr. Brock's character and ac-
complishments was very just, it came, perhaps, with an ill
grace from Count Grustavus Adolphus Maximilian, who had

46 CATHERINE: A STORY.

profited by all his qualities, and who certainly would never
have given this opinion of them, had he known that the
door of his dining-parlour was open, and that the gallant
corporal, who was in the passage, could hear every syllable
that fell from the lips of his commanding officer. We
shall not say, after the fashion of the story-books, that
Mr. Brock listened with a flashing eye and a distended
nostril ; that his chest heaved tumultuously, and that his
hand fell down mechanically to his side, where it played
with the brass handle of his sword. Mr. Kean would have
gone through most of these bodily exercises had he been
acting the part of a villain, enraged and disappointed like
Corporal Brock ; but that gentleman walked away without
any gestures of any kind, and as gently as possible.
"He'll turn me out of the regiment, will he?" says he,
quite piano ; and then added (con molto espressione) , "I'll
do for him."

And it is to be remarked, how generally, in cases of this
nature, gentlemen stick to their word.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 47

CHAPTER III.

IN WHICH A NARCOTIC IS ADMINISTERED, AND A
GREAT DEAL OP GENTEEL SOCIETY DEPICTED.

WHEN the corporal, who had retreated to the street door
immediately on hearing the above conversation, returned
to the captain's lodgings, and paid his respects to Mrs.
Catherine, he found that lady in high good-humour. The
count had been with her, she said, along with a friend of
his, Mr. Trippet; had promised her twelve yards of the
lace she coveted so much; had vowed that the child should
have as much more for a cloak ; and had not left her until
he had sat with her for an hour, or more, over a bowl of
punch, which he made on purpose for her. Mr. Trippet
stayed, too. "A mighty pleasant man," said she; "only
not very wise, and seemingly a good deal in liquor."

" A good deal, indeed ! " said the corporal ; " he was so
tipsy just now, that he could hardly stand. He and his
honour were talking to Nan Fantail, in the market-place ;
and she pulled Trippet' s wig off, for wanting to kiss her."

"The nasty fellow! " said Mrs. Cat, "to demean himself
with such low people as Nan Fantail, indeed ! Why, upon
my conscience now, corporal, it was but an hour ago that
Mr. Trippet swore he never saw such a pair o* eyes as
mine, and would like to cut the captain's throat for the
love of me. Kan Fantail indeed! "

"Nan's an honest girl, Madam Catherine, and was a
great favourite of the captain's before some one else came
nThis way. No one can say a word against her — not a
word."

n And pray, corporal, who ever did? " said Mrs. Cat,
rather offended. " A nasty, angry slut ! I wonder what

the men can see in her."

3 Vol. 13

48 CATHERINE: A STORY.

"She has got a smart way with her, sure enough; it's
what amuses the men, and "

"And what? You don't mean to say that my Max is
fond of her now ? " said Mrs. Catherine, looking very fierce.

" Oh no ; not at all ; not of her, — that is "

" Not of her f " screamed she ; " of whom, then? "

t( Oh, psha ! nonsense ; of you, my dear, to be sure ; who
else should he care for? And, besides, what business is it
of mine? " And herewith the corporal began whistling,
as if he would have no more of the conversation. But
Mrs. Cat was not to be satisfied, — not she, and carried on
her cross-questions.

* Why, look you," said the corporal, after parrying
many of these, — "why, look you, I'm an old fool, Cath-
erine, and I must blab. That man has been the best friend
I ever had, and so I was quiet ; but I can't keep it any
longer, — no, hang me if I can. It's my belief he's acting
like a rascal by you: he deceives you, Catherine; he's a
scoundrel, Mrs. Hall, that's the truth on't."

Catherine prayed him to tell all he knew; and he re-
sumed.

"He wants you off his hands; he's sick of you, and so
brought here that fool Tom Trippet, who has taken a fancy
to you. He has not the courage to turn you out of doors
like a man, though in- doors he can treat you like a beast.
But I'll tell you what he'll do. In a month he will go to
Coventry, or pretend to go there, on recruiting business.
No such thing, Mrs. Hall; he's going on marriage business,
and he'll leave you without a farthing, to starve or to rot,
for him. It's all arranged, I tell you ; in a month, you are
to be starved into becoming Tom Trippet' s mistress, and
his honour is to marry rich Miss Dripping, the twenty-
thousand-pounder from London; and to purchase a regi-
ment;— and to get old Brock drummed out of Cutts's too,"
said the corporal, under his breath. But 'he might have
spoken out, if he chose ; for the poor young woman had
sunk on the ground in a real honest fit.

" I thought I should give it her," said Mr. Brock, as he

CATHERINE. A STORY. 49

procured a glass of water ; and, lifting her on to a sofa,
sprinkled the same over her. " Hang it ! how pretty she

is!*

*****

When Mrs. Catherine came to herself again, Brock's tone
with her was kind, and almost feeling. Nor did the poor
wench herself indulge in any subsequent shiverings and
hysterics, such as usually follow the fainting fits of persons
of higher degree. She pressed him for further explana-
tions, which he gave, and to which she listened with a
great deal of calmness; nor did many tears, sobs, sighs, or
exclamations of sorrow or anger escape from her; only
when the corporal was taking his leave, and said to her,
point-blank, — " Well, Mrs. Catherine, and what do you
intend to do? " she did not reply a word ; but gave a look
which made him exclaim, on leaving the room, —

" By heavens ! the woman means murder ! I would not
be the Holofernes to lie by the side of such a Judith as
that — not I ! " And he went his way, immersed in deep
thought. When the captain returned at night, she did not
speak to him ; and when he swore at her for being sulky,
she only said she had a headache, and was dreadfully ill ;
with which excuse Gustavus Adolphus seemed satisfied,
and left her to herself and her child.

He saw her the next morning for a moment; he was
going a-shooting.

Catherine had no friend, as is usual in tragedies and ro-
mances,— no mysterious sorceress of her acquaintance to
whom she could apply for poison, — so she went simply to
the apothecaries, pretending at each that she had a dread-
ful toothache, and procuring from them as much laudanum
as she thought would suit her purpose.

When she went home again, she seemed almost gay.
Mr. Brock complimented her upon the alteration in her ap-
pearance ; and she was enabled to receive the captain at
his return from shooting in such a manner as made him
remark, that she had got rid of her sulks of the morning,
and might sup with them, if she chose to keep her good-

50 CATHERINE: A STORY.

humour. The supper was got ready, and the gentlemen
had the punch-bowl when the cloth was cleared, — Mrs.
Catherine, with her delicate hands, preparing the liquor.

It is useless to describe the conversation that took place,
or to reckon the number of bowls that were emptied, or to
tell how Mr. Trippet, who was one of the guests, and de-
clined to play at cards when some of the others began,
chose to remain by Mrs. Catherine's side, and make violent
love to her. All this might be told, and the account, how-
ever faithful, would not be very pleasing. No, indeed!
And here, though we are only in the third chapter of this
history, we feel almost sick of the characters that appear
in it, and the adventures which they are called upon to go
through. But how can we help ourselves ? The public
will hear of nothing but rogues; and the only way in
which poor authors, who must live, can act honestly by the
public and themselves, is to paint such thieves as they are ;
not dandy, poetical, rose-water thieves, but real downright
scoundrels, leading scoundrelly lives, drunken, profligate,
dissolute, low, as scoundrels will be. They don't quote
Plato, like Eugene Aram ; or live like gentlemen, and sing
the pleasantest ballads in the world, like jolly Dick Tur-
pin ; or prate eternally about TO xaXov, like that precious
canting Maltravers, whom we all of us have read about
and pitied; or die white-washed saints, like poor Biss
Dadsy in " Oliver Twist. " No, my dear madam, you and
your daughters have no right to admire and sympathise
with any such persons, fictitious or real : you ought to be
made cordially to detest, scorn, loathe, abhor, and abom-
inate all people of this kidney. Men of genius, like those
whose works we have above alluded to, have no business
to make these characters interesting or agreeable ; to be
feeding your morbid fancies, or indulging their own, with
such monstrous food. For our parts, young ladies, we beg
you to bottle up your tears, and not waste a single drop of
them on any one of the heroes or heroines in this history :
they are all rascals, every soul of them, and behave " as
sich." Keep your sympathy for those who deserve it;

CATHERINE: A STORY. 51

don't carry it, for preference, to the Old Bailey, and grow
maudlin over the company assembled there.

Just, then, have the kindness to fancy that the conversa-
tion, which took place over the bowls of punch which Mrs.
Catherine prepared, was such as might be expected to take
place, where the host was a dissolute, daredevil, libertine
captain of dragoons, the guests for the most part of the
same class, and the hostess, a young woman originally
from a country alehouse, and for the present mistress to
the entertainer of the society. They talked, and they
drank, and they grew tipsy j and very little worth hearing
occurred during the course of the whole evening. Mr.
Brock officiated, half as the servant, half as the companion
of the society. Mr. Thomas Trippet made violent love to
Mrs. Catherine, while her lord and master was playing at
dice with the other gentlemen ; and on this night, strange
to say, the captain's fortune seemed to desert him. The
Warwickshire squire, from whom he had won so much,
had an amazing run of good luck. The captain called per-
petually for more drink, and higher stakes, and lost almost
every throw. Three hundred, four hundred, six hundred
— all his winnings of the previous months were swallowed
up in the course of a few hours. The corporal looked on,
and, to do him justice, seemed very grave, as, sum by sum,
the squire scored down the count's losses on the paper be-
fore him.

Most of the company had taken their hats and staggered
off. The squire and Mr. Trippet were the only two that
remained, the latter still remaining by Mrs. Catherine's
sofa and table ; and as she, as we have stated, had been
employed all the evening in mixing the liquor for the
gamesters, he was at the headquarters of love and drink,
and had swallowed so much of each as hardly to be able to
speak.

The dice went rattling on; the candles were burning
dim, with great long wicks. Mr. Trippet could hardly
see the captain, and thought, as far as his muzzy reason
would let him, that the captain could not see him j so he

82 CATHERINE: A STORY.

rose from his chair as well as he could, and fell down on
Mrs. Catherine's sofa. His eyes were fixed, his face waa
pale, his jaw hung down ; and he flung out his arms, and
said, in a maudlin voice, " O you byoo-oo-oo-tiffle Catherine,
I must have a kick-kick-iss."

" Beast ! " said Mrs. Catherine, and pushed him away.
The drunken wretch fell oif the sofa, and on to the floor,
where he stayed; and, after snorting out some unintel-
ligible sounds, went to sleep.

The dice went rattling onj the candles were burning
dim, with great long wicks.

" Seven's the main," cried the count. " Four. Three to
two against the caster."

" Ponies," said the Yorkshire squire.

Eattle, rattle, rattle, rattle, clatter, nine. Clap, clap,
clap, clap, eleven. Clutter, clutter, clutter, clutter:
"Seven it is," says the Yorkshire squire; "that makes
eight hundred, count. "

"One throw for two hundred," said the count. "But,
stop; Cat, give us some more punch."

Mrs. Cat came forward; she looked a little pale, and her .it-
hand trembled somewhat. "Here is the punch, Max,"
said she. It was steaming hot, in a large glass. "Don't
drink it all," said she; "leave me some."

" How dark it is ! " said the count, eyeing it.

"It's the brandy," says Cat.

"Well, here goes! Squire, curse you! here's your
health, and bad luck to you ! " and he gulped off more
than half the liquor at a draught. But presently he put
down the glass and cried, " What infernal poison is this,
Cat? "

" Poison ! " said she, " it's no poison. Give me the glass ;"
and she pledged Max, and drank a little of it. " 'Tis good
punch, Max, and of my brewing; I don't think you will
ever get any better. " And she went back to the sofa again,
and sat down, and looked at the players.

Mr. Brock looked at her white face and fixed eyes witi
a grim kind of curiosity. The count sputtered, and cursed

CATHERINE: A STORY. 53

the horrid taste of the punch still ; but he presently took
the box, and made his threatened throw.

As before, the squire beat him ; and having booked his
winnings, rose from table as well as he might, and besought
Corporal Brock to lead him downstairs, which Mr. Brock
did.

Liquor had evidently stupefied the count ; he sat with
his head between his hands, muttering wildly about ill-
luck, seven's the main, bad punch, and so on. The street
door banged to ; and the steps of Brock and the squire were
heard, until they could be heard no more.

"Max," said she; but he did not answer. "Max," said
she again, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"Curse you," said that gentleman, "keep off,, and don't
be laying your paws upon me. Go to bed, you jade, or

to , for what I care ; and give me first some more punch

— a gallon more punch, do you hear ? "

The gentleman, by the curses at the commencement ol
this little speech, and the request contained at the end of
it, showed that his losses vexed him, and that he was anx-
ous to forget them temporarily.

"Oh, Max!" whimpered Mrs. Cat, "you— don't — want
— any more punch? "

"Don't! Shan't I be drunk in my own house, you
cursed whimpering jade, you? Get out! " And with this
the captain proceeded to administer a blow upon Mrs.
Catherine's cheek.

Contrary to her custom, she did not avenge it, or seek to
do so, as on the many former occasions when disputes of
this nature had arisen between the count and her; but
now Mrs. Catherine fell on her knees, and clasping her
hands, and looking pitifully in the count's face, cried,
"Oh, count, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Forgive you! What for? Because I slapped your
face? Ha, ha! I'll forgive you again, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, no, no!" said she, wringing her hands. 'It
isn't that. Max, dear Max, will you forgive me? It isn't
the blow — I don't mind that; it's "

54 CATHERINE: A STORY.

" It's what? you maudlin fool ! w

"It's the punch!"

The count, -who was more than half -seas over, here as-
sumed an air of much tipsy gravity. " The punch ! No, I
never will forgive you that last glass of punch. Of all the
foul, beastly drinks I ever tasted, that was the worst. No,
I never will forgive you that punch."

"Oh, it isn't that, it isn't that! " said she.

" I tell you it is that, you ! That punch, I say that

punch was no better than paw — aw — oison." And here
the count's head sunk back, and he fell to snore.

u It was poison ! " said she.

" Wliat ! " screamed he, waking up at once, and spurn-
ing her away from him, "what, you infernal murderess,
have you killed me? "

"Oh, Max! — don't kill me, Max: it was laudanum — in-
deed it was. You were going to be married, and I was
furious, and I went and got "

"Hold your tongue, you fiend," roared out the count;
and with more presence of mind than politeness, he flung
the remainder of the liquor (and, indeed, the glass with it)
at the head of Mrs. Catherine. But the poisoned chalice
missed its mark, and fell right on the nose of Mr. Tom
Trippet, who was left asleep and unobserved under the
table.

Bleeding, staggering, swearing, indeed a ghastly sight,
up sprung Mr. Trippet, and drew his rapier : " Come on."
says he; "never say die! What's the row? I'm ready
for a dozen of you." And he made many blind and fu-
rious passes about the room.

"Curse you, we'll die together!" shouted the count, as
he too pulled out his toledo, and sprung at Mrs. Catherine.

" Help ! murder ! thieves ! " shrieked she : " save me,
Mr. Trippet, save me ! " and she placed that gentleman be-
tween herself and the count, and then made for the door of
the bedroom, and gained it, and bolted it.

" Out of the way, Trippet," roared the count, " out of the
way, you drunken beast! I'll murder her, I will — I'll

CATHERINE: A STORY. 55

have the devil's life." And here he gave a swinging cut
at Mr. Trippet's sword, which sent the weapon whirling
on out of his hand, and through a window into the street.

"Take my life, then," said Mr. Trippet: "I'm drunk,
but I'm a man, and, damme! will never say die."

"I don't want your life, you stupid fool. Hark you,
Trippet, wake and be sober, if you can. That woman has
heard of my marriage with Miss Brisket."

" Twenty thousand pound," ejaculated Trippet.

"She has been jealous, I tell you, and. poisoned us. She
has put laudanum into the punch."

"What, in my punch?" said Trippet, growing quite
sober, and losing his courage; "O Lord! O Lord! "

"Don't stand howling there, but run for a doctor; 'tis
our only chance." And away ran Mr. Trippet, as if the
deuce were at his heels.

The count had forgotten his murderous intentions regard-
ing his mistress, or had deferred them, at least, under the
consciousness of his own pressing danger. And it must
be said, in the praise of a man who had fought for and
against Marlborough and Tallard, that his courage in this
trying and novel predicament never for a moment deserted
him, but that he showed the greatest daring, as well as
ingenuity, in meeting and averting the danger. He flew to
the sideboard, where were the relics of a supper, and seiz-
ing the mustard and salt pots, and a bottle of oil, he emp-
tied them all into a jug, into which he further poured a vast
quantity of hot water. This pleasing mixture he then,
without a moment's hesitation, placed to his lips, and swal-
lowed as much of it as nature would allow him. But when
he had imbibed about a quart, the anticipated effect was
produced, and he was enabled, by the power of this ingen-
ious extemporaneous emetic, to get rid of much of the
poison which Mrs. Catherine had administered to him.

He was employed in these efforts when the doctor en-
tered, along with Mr. Brock and Mr. Trippet; who was not
a little pleased to hear that the poisoned punch had not in
all probability been given to him. He was recommended

56 CATHERINE: A STORY.

to take some of the count's mixture, as a precautionary
measure; but this he refused, and retired home, leaving
the count under charge of the physician and his faithful
corporal.

It is not necessary to say what further remedies were
employed by them to restore the captain to health ; but after
some time the doctor, pronouncing that the danger was, he
hoped, averted, recommended that his patient should be
put to bed, and that somebody should sit by him ; which
Brock promised to do.

"That she-devil will murder me, if you don't," gasped
the poor count. " You must turn her out of the bedroom,
or break open the door, if she refuses to let you in."

And this step was found to be necessary; for, after
shouting many times, and in vain, Mr. Brock found a small
iron bar (indeed, he had the instrument for many days in
his pocket), and forced the lock. The room was empty,
the window was open, the pretty barmaid of the Bugle had
fled.

"The chest," said the count, "is the chest safe? "

The corporal flew to the bed, under which it was screwed,
and looked, and said, " It is safe, thank Heaven ! " The
window was closed. The captain, who was too weak to
stand without help, was undressed and put to bed. The
corporal sat down by his side ; slumber stole over the eyes
of the patient ; and his wakeful nurse marked with satis-
faction the progress of the beneficent restorer of health,
* * * # #

When the captain awoke, as he did some time after-
wards, he found, very much to his surprise, that a gag had
been placed in his mouth, and that the corporal was in the
act of wheeling his bed to another part of the room. He
attempted to move, and gave utterance to such unintel-
ligible sounds as could issue through a silk handkerchief.

" If your honour stirs or cries out in the least, I will cut
your honour's throat," said the corporal.

And then, having recourse to his iron bar (the reader will
now see why he was provided with such an implement, for

CATHERINE: A STORY. 57

lie had been meditating this coup for some days), he pro-
ceeded first to attempt to burst the lock of the little iron
chest in which the count kept his treasure; and failing in
this, to unscrew it from the ground, which operation he
performed satisfactorily.

"You see, count," said he, calmly, "when rogues fall
out, there's the deuce to pay. You'll have me drummed
out of the regiment, will you? I'm going to leave it of my
own accord, look you, and to live like a gentleman for the
rest of my days. Schlafen Sie wohl, noble captain, bon
vepos. The squire will be with you pretty early in the
morning, to ask for the money you owe him."

# . # * * #

With these sarcastic observations Mr. Brock departed,
not by the window, as Mrs. Catherine had done, but by the
door, quietly, and so into the street. And when, the next
morning, the doctor came to visit his patient, he brought
with him a story how, at the dead of night, Mr. Brock had
roused the ostler at the stables where the captain's horses
were kept — had told him that Mrs. Catherine had poisoned
the count, and had run off with a thousand pounds ; and
how he and all lovers of justice ought to scour the country
in pursuit of the criminal. For this end Mr. Brock
mounted the count's best horse — that very animal on which
he had carried away Mrs. Catherine ; and thus, on a single
night, Count Maximilian had lost his mistress, his money,
his horse, his corporal, and was very near losing his life.

58 CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTER IV.

IN WHICH MRS. CATHERINE BECOMES AN HONEST
WOMAN AGAIN.

IN this woeful plight, moneyless, wifeless, horseless, cor-
poralless, with a gag in his inouth and a rope round his
body, are we compelled to leave the gallant Galgenstein,
until his friends and the progress of this history shall de-
liver him from his durance. Mr. Brock's adventure on the
captain's horse must likewise be pretermitted ; for it is our
business to follow Mrs. Catherine through the window by
which she made her escape, and among the various chances
that befell her.

She had one cause to congratulate herself, — that she had
not her baby at her back, — for the infant was safely housed
under the care of a nurse, to whom the captain was answer-
able. Beyond this her prospects were but dismal ; no home
to fly to, but a few shillings in her pocket, and a whole heap
of in j uries and dark revengeful thoughts in her bosom : it
was a sad task to her to look either backwards or forwards.
Whither was she to fly? How to live? What good chance
was to befriend her? There was an angel watching over the
steps of Mrs. Cat — not a good one, I think, but one of those
from that unnamable place, who have their many subjects
here on earth, and often are pleased to extricate them from
worse perplexities.

Mrs. Cat, now, had not committed murder, but as bad
as murder ; and as she felt not the smallest repentance in
her heart, as she had, in the course of her life and connec-
tion with the captain, performed and gloried in a number
of wicked coquetries, idlenesses, vanities, lies, fits of anger,
slanders, foul abuses, and what not, she was fairly bound
over to this dark angel whom we have alluded to ; and he
dealt with her, and aided her, as one of his own children.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 59

I do not mean to say that, in this strait, he appeared to
her in the likeness of a gentleman in black, and made her
sign her name in blood to a document conveying over to
him her soul, in exchange for certain conditions to be per-
formed by him. Such diabolical bargains have always ap-
peared to me unworthy of the astute personage who is sup-
posed to be one of the parties to them ; and who would
scarcely be fool enough to pay dearly for that which he can
have in a few years for nothing. It is not, then, to be sup-
posed that a demon of darkness appeared to Mrs. Cat, and
led her into a flaming chariot, harnessed by dragons, and
careering through air, at the rate of a thousand leagues a
minute. No such thing : the vehicle that was sent to aid
her was one of a much more vulgar description.

The "Liverpool carryvan," then, which in the year 1706
used to perform the journey between London and that place
in ten days, left Birmingham about an hour after Mrs.
Catherine had quitted that town ; and as she sat weeping
on a hillside, and plunged in bitter meditation, the lumber-
ing, jingling vehicle overtook her. The coachman was
marching by the side of his horses, and encouraging them
to maintain their pace of two miles an hour; the passengers
had some of them left the vehicle, in order to walk up the
hill ; and the carriage had arrived at the top of it, and,
meditating a brisk trot down the declivity, waited there
until the lagging passengers should arrive; when Jehu,
casting a good-natured glance upon Mrs. Catherine, asked
the pretty maid whence she was come, and whether she
would like a ride in his carriage. To the latter of which
questions Mrs. Catherine replied truly yes; to the former,
her answer was that she had come from Stratford, where-
as, as we very well know, she had lately quitted Birming-
ham.

"Hast thee seen a woman pass this way, on a black
horse, with a large bag of goold over the saddle? " said
Jehu, when he, the passengers, and Mrs. Cat, were
mounted upon the roof of the coach.

"No, indeed," said Mrs. Cat.

60 CATHERINE: A STORY.

"Nor a trooper on another horse after her — no? Well,
there be a mortal row down Birmingham way about sich a
one. She have killed, they say, nine gentlemen at supper,
and have strangled a German prince in bed. She have
robbed him of twenty thousand guineas, and have rode
away on a black horse."

"That can't be I," said Mrs. Cat, naively, "for I have
but three shillings and a groat."

"No, it can't be thee, truly, for where's your bag of
goold? and, besides, thee hast got too pretty a face to do
such wicked things as to kill nine gentlemen and strangle
a German prince."

" Law, coachman," said Mrs. Cat, blushing archly, "law,
coachman, do you think so? " The girl would have been
pleased with a compliment even on her way to be hanged ;
and the parley ended by Mrs. Catherine stepping into the
carriage, where there was room for eight people at least,
and where two or three individuals had already taken their
places.

For these Mrs. Catherine had in the first place to make
a story, which she did, and a very glib one for a person of
her years and education. Being asked whither she was
bound, and how she came to be alone of a morning sitting
by a roadside, she invented a neat history suitable to the
occasion, which elicited much interest from her fellow-pas-
sengers ; one in particular, a young man, who had caught
a glimpse of her face under her hood, was very tender in
his attentions to her.

But whether it was that she had been too much fatigued
by the occurrences of the past day and sleepless night, or
whether the little laudanum which she had drunk a few
hours previously now began to act upon her, certain it is
that Mrs. Cat now suddenly grew sick, feverish, and extra-
ordinarily sleepy ; and in this state she continued for many
hours, to the pity of all her fellow-travellers. At length
the carry van reached the inn, where horses and passengers
were accustomed to rest for a few hours, and to dine ; and
Mrs. Catherine was somewhat awakened by the stir of the

CATHERINE: A STORY. 61

passengers, and the friendly voice of the inn servant wel-
coming them to dinner. The gentleman who had been
smitten by her beauty now urged her very politely to de-
scend, which, taking the protection of his arm, she accord-
ingly did.

He made some very gallant speeches to her as she stepped
out; and she must have been very much occupied by them,
or rapt up in her own thoughts, or stupefied by sleep, fever,
and opium, for she did not take any heed of the place into
which she was going, which had she done, she would prob-
ably have preferred remaining in the coach, dinnerless and
ill. Indeed, the inn into which she was about to make her
entrance was no other than the Bugle, from which she set
forth at the commencement of this history, and which then,
as now, was kept by her relative, the thrifty Mrs. Score.
That good landlady, seeing a lady, in a smart hood and
cloak, leaning, as if faint, upon the arm of a gentleman of
good appearance, concluded them to be man and wife, and
folks of quality too, and with much discrimination, as well
as sympathy, led them through the public kitchen to her
own private parlour, or bar, where she handed the lady an
arm-chair, and asked what she would like to drink. By
this time, and indeed at the very moment she heard her
aunt's voice, Mrs. Catherine was aware of her situation;
and when her companion retired, and the landlady with
much officiousness insisted on removing her hood, she was
quite prepared for the screech of surprise which Mrs. Score
gave on dropping it, exclaiming, " Why, Law bless us, it's
our Catherine ! "

"I'm very ill, and tired, aunt," said Cat; "and would
give the world for a few hours' sleep."

" A few hours, and welcome, my love, and a sack-posset,
too. You do look sadly tired, and poorly, sure enough.
Ah, Cat, Cat! you great ladies are sad rakes, I do believe.
I wager now, that with all your balls, and carriages, and
fine clothes, you are neither so happy nor so well as when
you lived with your poor old aunt, who used to love you
so." And with these gentle words, and an embrace or two,

62 CATHERINE: A STORY.

which Mrs. Catherine wondered at, and permitted, she was
conducted to that very bed which the count had occupied a
year previously, and undressed, and laid in it, and affec-
tionately tucked up, by her aunt, who marvelled at the
fineness of her clothes, as she removed them piece by piece ;
and when she saw that in Mrs. Catherine's pocket there
was only the sum of three and fourpence, said, archly,
" there was no need of money, for the captain took care of
that."

Mrs. Cat did not undeceive her; and deceived Mrs. Score
certainly was, — for she imagined the well-dressed gentle-
man who led Cat from the carriage was no other than the
count ; and, as she had heard, from time to time, exagger-
ated reports of the splendour of the establishment which
she kept up, she was induced to look upon her niece with
the very highest respect, and to treat her as if she were a
fine lady. "And so she is a fine lady," Mrs. Score had
Said months ago, when some of these flattering stories
reached her, and she had overcome her jirst fury at
Catherine's elopement. "The girl was very cruel to
leave me; but we must recollect that she is as good as
married to a nobleman, and must all forget and forgive,
you know."

This speech had been made to Doctor Dobbs, who was in
the habit of taking a pipe and a tankard at the Bugle, and
had been roundly reprobated by the worthy divine; who
told Mrs. Score that the crime of Catherine was only the
more heinous, if it had been committed from interested mo-
tives; and protested that, were she a princess, he would
never speak to her again. Mrs. Score thought and pro-
nounced the doctor's opinion to be very bigoted ; indeed,
she was one of those persons who have a marvellous re-
spect for prosperity, and a corresponding scorn for ill-for-
tune. When, therefore, she returned to the public room,
she went graciously to the gentleman who had led
Mrs. Catherine from the carriage, and with a knowing
curtsey welcomed him to the Bugle, told him that his lady
would not come to dinner, but bade her say, with her best

CATHERINE: A STORY. 63

love to his lordship, that the ride had fatigued her, and
that she would lie in bed for an hour or two.

This speech was received with much wonder by his lord-
ship, who was, indeed, no other than a Liverpool tailor
going to London to learn fashions ; but he only smiled, and
did not undeceive the landlady, who herself went off, smil-
ingly, to bustle about dinner.

The two or three hours allotted to that meal by the lib-
eral coachmasters of those days passed away, and Mr. Coach-
man, declaring that his horses were now rested enough, and
that they had twelve miles to ride, put the steeds to, and
summoned the passengers. Mrs. Score, who had seen with
much satisfaction that her niece was really ill, and her
fever more violent, and hoped to have her for many days
an inmate in her house, now came forward, and casting
upon the Liverpool tailor a look of profound but respectful
melancholy, said, " My lord (for I recollect your lordship
quite well), the lady upstairs is so ill, that it would be a
sin to move her : had I not better tell coachman to take
down your lordship's trunks, and the lady's, and make you
a bed in the next room? "

Very much to her surprise, this proposition was received
with a roar of laughter. "Madam," said the person ad-
dressed, " I'm not a lord, but a tailor and draper ; and as
for that young woman, before to-day I never set eyes on
her."

" What ! " screamed out Mrs. Score. " Are not you the

count? Do you mean to say that you a'n't Cat's ?

Do you mean to say that you didn't order her bed, and that
you won't pay this here little bill? " And with this she
produced a document, by which the count's lady was made
her debtor in a sum of half a guinea.

These passionate words excited more and more laughter.
"Pay it, my lord," said the coachman; "and then come
along, for time presses. "Our respects to her ladyship,"
said one passenger; "Tell her my lord can't wait," said
another; and with much merriment one and all quitted the
hotel, entered the coach, and rattled off.

64 CATHERINE: A STORY.

<

Dumb — pale with terror and rage — bill in hand, Mrs.
Score had followed the company ; but when the coach dis-
appeared, her senses returned. Back she flew into the inn,
overturning the ostler, not deigning to answer Dr. Dobbs
(who, from behind soft tobacco-fumes, mildly asked the
reason of her disturbance), and, bounding upstairs like a
fury, she rushed into the room where Catherine lay.

" Well, madam ! " said she, in her highest key, " do you
mean that you have come into this here house to swindle
me? Do you dare for to come with your airs here, and
call yourself a nobleman's lady, and sleep in the best bed,
when you're no better nor a common tramper ? I'll thank
you, ma'am, to get out, ma'am. I'll have no sick paupers
in this house, ma'am. You know your way to the work-
house, ma'am, and there I'll trouble you for to go." And
here Mrs. Score proceeded quickly to pull off the bed-
clothes; and poor Cat arose, shivering with fright and
fever.

She had no spirit to answer, as she would have done the
day before, when an oath from any human being would
have brought half a dozen from her in return ; or a knife,
or a plate, or a leg of mutton, if such had been to her hand.
She had no spirit left for such repartees ; but in reply to
the above words of Mrs. Score, and a great many more of
the same kind — which are not necessary for our history,
but which that lady uttered with inconceivable shrillness
and volubility — the poor wench could say little, — only sob
and shiver, and gather up the clothes again, crying, "Oh,
aunt, don't speak unkind to me! I'm very unhappy, and
very ill!"

" HI, you strumpet ! ill, be hanged ! Ill is as ill does, and
if you are ill, it's only what you merit. Get out! dress
yourself — tramp! Get to the workhouse, and don't come
to cheat me any more! Dress yourself — do you hear?
Satin petticoat, forsooth, and lace to her smock ! "

Poor, wretched, chattering, burning, shivering, Catherine
huddled on her clothes as well as she might : she seemed
hardly to know or see what she was doing, and did not re-

CATHERINE: A STORY. 65

ply a single word to the many that the landlady let fall.
Cat tottered down the narrow stairs, and through the
kitchen, and to the door, which she caught hold of, and
paused a while, and looked into Mrs. Score's face, as for
one more chance. "Get out, you nasty trull!" said that
lady, sternly, with arms akimbo ; and poor Catherine, with
a most piteous scream, and outgush of tears, let go of the
door-post, and staggered away into the road.

# # # # #

" Why, no — yes — no — it is poor Catherine Hall, as I
live ! " said somebody, starting up, shoving aside Mrs.
Score very rudely, and running into the road, wig off, and
pipe in hand. It was honest Doctor Dobbs; and the result
of his interview with Mrs. Cat was, that he gave up for
<>ver smoking his pipe at the Bugle ; and that she lay sick
of a fever for some weeks in his house.

# * * * #

Over this part of Mrs. Cat's history we shall be as brief
as possible ; for, to tell the truth, nothing immoral occurred
during her whole stay at the good doctor' s house ; and we
are not going to insult the reader by offering him silly pic-
tures of piety, cheerfulness, good sense, and simplicity,
which are milk-and-water virtues after all, and have no
relish with them like a good strong vice, highly peppered.
Well, to be short : Dr. Dobbs, though a profound theolo-
gian, was a very simple gentleman ; and, before Mrs. Cat
had been a month in the house, he had learned to look upon
her as one of the most injured and repentant characters in
the world ; and had, with Mrs Dobbs, resolved many plans
for the future welfare of the young Magdalen. " She was
but sixteen, my love, recollect," said the doctor ; " she was
carried off, not by her own wish either. The count swore
he would marry her ; and, though she did not leave him
until that monster tried to poison her, yet think what a
fine Christian spirit the poor girl has shown ! she forgives
him as heartily — more heartily, I am sure, than I do Mrs.
Score for turning her adrift in that wicked way." The
reader will perceive some difference in the doctor's state-

66 CATHERINE: A STORY.

ment and ours, which we assure him is the true one ; but
the fact is, the honest rector had had his tale from Mrs.
Cat, and it was not in his nature to doubt, if she had told
him a history ten times more wonderful.

The reverend gentleman and his wife then laid their
heads together; and, recollecting something of John
Hayes's former attachment to Mrs. Cat, thought that it
might be advantageously renewed, should Hayes be still
constant. Having very adroitly sounded Catherine (so
adroitly, indeed, as to ask her " whether she would like to
marry John Hayes?"), that young woman had replied,
" No. She had loved John Hayes — he had been her early,
only love ; but she was fallen now, and not good enough
for him." And this made the Dobbs family admire her
more and more, and cast about for means to bring the mar-
riage to pass.

Hayes was away from the village when Mrs. Cat had
arrived there ; but he did not fail to hear of her illness, and
how her aunt had deserted her, and the good doctor taken
her in. The worthy doctor himself met Mr. Hayes on the
green ; and, telling him that some repairs were wanting in
his kitchen, begged him to step in and examine them.
Hayes first said no, plump, and then no, gently ; and then
pished, and then pshawed ; and then, trembling very much,
went in; and there sate Mrs. Catherine, trembling very
much too.

What passed between them? If your ladyship is anxious
to know, think of that morning when Sir John himself
popped the question. Could there be anything more stupid
than the conversation which took place? Such stuff is not
worth repeating; no, not when uttered by people in the
very genteelest of company ; as for the amorous dialogue of
a carpenter and an ex-barmaid, it is worse still. Suffice it
to say, that Mr. Hayes, who had had a year to recover
from his passion, and had, to all appearances, quelled it,
was over head and ears again the very moment he saw Mrs.
Cat, and had all his work to do again.

Whether the doctor knew what was going on, I can't

CATHERINE: A STORY. 67

say; but this matter is certain, that every evening Hayes
was now in the rectory kitchen, or else walking abroad
with Mrs. Catherine; and whether she ran away with him,
or he with her, I shall not make it my business to inquire ;
but certainly at the end of three months (which must be
crowded up into this one little sentence), another elope-
ment took place in the village. "I should have prevented
it, certainly/' said Dr. Dobbs — whereat his wife smiled;
"but the young people kept the matter a secret from me."
And so he would, had he known it ; but though Mrs. Dobbs
had made several attempts to acquaint him with the precise
hour and method of the intended elopement, he peremp-
torily ordered her to hold her tongue. The fact is, that
the matter had been discussed by the rector's lady many
times. "Young Hayes," would she say "has a pretty lit-
tle fortune and trade of his own ; he is an only son, and
may marry as he likes ; and, though not specially hand-
some, generous, or amiable, has an undeniable love for Cat
(who, you know, must not be particular), and the sooner
she marries him, I think, the better. They can't be mar-
ried at our church, you know, and- " " Well," said the

doctor, " if they are married elsewhere, / can't help it, and
know nothing about it, look you." And upon this hint the
elopement took place, which, indeed, was peaceably per-
formed early one Sunday morning about a month after;
Mrs. Hall getting behind Mr. Hayes on a pillow, and all
the children of the parsonage giggling behind the window-
blinds to see the pair go off.

During this month Mr. Hayes had caused the banns to
be published at the town of Worcester; judging rightly
that in a great town they would cause no such remark as in
a solitary village, and thither he conducted his lady. 0
ill-starred John Hayes! whither do the dark fates lead
you? O foolish Dr. Dobbs, to forget that young people
ought to honour their parents, and to yield to silly Mrs.

Dobbs' s ardent propensity for making matches !

*****

The London Gazette of the 1st April, 1706, contains a

68 CATHERINE: A STORY".

proclamation by the Queen for putting in execution an Act
of Parliament for the encouragement and increase of sea-
men, and for the better and speedier manning of her Maj-
esty's fleet, which authorises all justices to issue warrants
to constables, petty constables, headboroughs, and tything-
men, to enter, and if need be, to break open the doors of
any houses where they shall believe deserting seamen to
be; and for the further increase and encouragement of
the navy, to take able-bodied landsmen when seamen fail.
This act, which occupies four columns of the Gazette, and
another of similar length and meaning for pressing men
into the army, need not be quoted at length here, but caused
a mighty stir throughout the kingdom at the time when it
was in force.

As one has seen or heard, after the march of a great
army, a number of rogues and loose characters bring up the
rear ; in like manner, at the tail of a great measure of state,
follow many roguish personal interests, which are protected
by the main body. The great measure of Reform, for in-
stance, carried along with it much private jobbing and
swindling, as could be shown were we not inclined to deal
mildly with the Whigs ; and this Enlistment Act, which,
in order to maintain the British glories in Flanders, dealt
most cruelly with the British people in England (it is not
the first time that a man has been pinched at home to make
a fine appearance abroad), created a great company of ras-
cals and informers throughout the land who lived upon it,
or upon extortion from those who were subject to it; or,
not being subject to it, were frightened into the belief that
they were.

When Mr. Hayes and his lady had gone through the
marriage ceremony at Worcester, the former concluding
that at such a place lodging and food might be procured
at a cheaper rate, looked about carefully for the meanest
public-house in the town, where he might deposit his bride.

In the kitchen of this inn, a party of men were drinking ;
and, as Mrs. Hayes declined, with a proper sense of her
superiority, to eat in company with such low fellows, the

CATHERINE: A STORY. 69

landlady showed her and her husband to an inner apart-
ment, where they might be served in private.

The kitchen party seemed, indeed, not such as a lady
would choose to join. There was one huge lanky fellow,
that looked like a soldier, and had a halbert; another was
habited in a sailor's costume, with a fascinating patch over
one eye ; and a third, who seemed the leader of the gang,
was a stout man in a sailor's frock and a horseman's jack-
boots, whom one might fancy, if he were anything, to be a
horse-marine.

Of oue of these worthies, Mrs. Hayes thought she knew
the figure and yoice; and she found her conjectures were
true, when, all of a sudden, three people, .without " With
your leave," or "By your leave," burst into the room, into
which she and her spouse had retired. At their head was
no other than her old friend, Mr. Peter Brock ; he had his
sword drawn, and his finger to his lips, enjoining silence,
as it were, to Mrs. Catherine. He with the patch on his
eye seized incontinently on Mr. Hayes ; the tall man with
the halbert kept the door ; two or three heroes supported
the one-eyed man; who, with a loud voice, exclaimed,
" Down with your arms — no resistance ! you are my pris-
oner, in the Queen's name ! "

And here, at this lock, we shall leave the whole company
until the next chapter, which may possibly explain what
they were.

70 CATHERINE: A BTORY.

CHAPTER V.

CONTAINS MR. BROCK'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY, AND OTHER
MATTER.

"You don't sure believe these men?" said Mrs. Hayes,
as soon as the first alarm, caused by the irruption of Mr.
Brock and his companions, had subsided. " These are no
magistrate's men; it is but a trick to rob you of your
money, John."

" I will never give up a farthing of it ! " screamed Hayes.

"Yonder fellow," continued Mrs. Catherine, "I know,
for all his drawn sword and fierce looks ; his name is "

"Wood, madam, at your service! " said Mr. Brock. "I
am follower to Mr. Justice Gobble, of this town : a' n't I,
Tim? " said Mr. Brock to the tall halbert-man who was
keeping the door.

"Yes, indeed," said Tim, archly; "we're all followers
of his honour, Justice Gobble."

" Certainly ! " said the one-eyed man.

" Of course ! " cried the man in the nightcap.

"I suppose, madam, you're satisfied now?" continued
Mr. Brock-a-Wood. " You can't deny the testimony of
gentlemen like these ; and our commission is to apprehend
all able-bodied male persons who can give no good account
of themselves, and enroll them in the service of her Majesty.
Look at this Mr. Hayes" (who stood trembling in his
shoes) ; " can there be a bolder, properer, straighter gen-
tleman? We'll have him for a grenadier before the day's
over ! "

"Take heart, John — don't be frightened. Psha, I tell
you I know the man," cried out Mrs. Hayes; "he is only
here to extort money."

"Oh, for that matter, I do think I recollect the lady.
Let me see where was it. At Birmingham, I think, — ay,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 71

at Birmingham, — about the time when they tried to murder
Count Gal- "

" Oh, sir ! " here cried Madam Hayes, dropping her voice
at once from a tone of scorn to one of gentlest entreaty,
" what is it you want with my husband? I know not, in-
deed, if ever I saw you before. For what do you seize
Mm? How much will you take to release him, and let us
go? Name the sum; he is rich, and "

* Ricky Catherine ! " cried Hayes ; " rich ! — 0 heavens !
Sir, I have nothing but my hands to support me; Fm a
poor carpenter, sir, working under my father ! "

"He can give twenty guineas to be free; I know he
can ! " said Mrs. Cat.

"I have but a guinea to carry me home," sighed out
Hayes.

"But you have twenty at home, John," said his wife.
" Give these brave gentlemen a writing to your mother, and
she will pay ; and you will let us free then, gentlemen —
won't you? "

"When the money's paid, yes," said the leader, Mr.
Brock.

" Oh, in course," echoed the tall man with the halbert.
"What's a thrifling detintion, my dear?" continued he,
addressing Hayes; "we'll amuse you in your absence, and
drink to the health of your pretty wife here."

This promise, to do the halberdier justice, he fulfilled.
He called upon the landlady to produce the desired liquor ;
and when Mr. Hayes flung himself at that lady's feet, de-
manding succour from her, and asking whether there was
no law in the land,

"There's no law at the Three Rooks except this!" said
Mr. Brock in reply, holding up a horse-pistol ; to which the
hostess, grinning, assented, and silently went her way.

After some further solicitations, John Hayes drew out
the necessary letter to his father, stating that he was
pressed, and would not be set free under a sum of twenty
guineas ; and that it would be of no use to detain the bearer
of the letter, inasmuch as the gentlemen who had posses-

4 Vol. 13

72 CATHERINE: A STORY.

sion of him vowed that they would murder him should any
harm befall their comrade. As a further proof of the
authenticity of the letter, a token was added, a ring that
Hayes wore, and that his mother had given him.

The missives were, after some consultation, entrusted to
the care of the tall halberdier, who seemed to rank as sec-
ond in command of the forces that marched under Corporal
Brock. This gentleman was called indifferently Ensign,
Mr. , or even Captain Macshane ; his intimates occasionally
in Sport called him Nosey, from the prominence of that
feature in his countenance ; or Spindleshins, for the very
reason which brought on the first Edward a similar nick-
name. Mr. Macshane then quitted Worcester, mounted on
Hayes's horse, leaving all parties at the Three Rooks not
a little anxious for his return.

This was not to be expected until the next morning, and
a weary nuit de noces did Mr. Hayes pass. Dinner was
served, and, according to promise, Mr. Brock and his two
friends enjoyed the meal along with the bride and bride-
groom. Punch followed, and this was taken in company;
then came supper; Mr. Brock alone partook of this, the
other two gentlemen preferring the society of their pipes
and the landlady in the kitchen.

"It is a sorry entertainment, I confess," said the ex-cor-
poral, "and a dismal way for a gentleman to spend his
bridal night ; but somebody must stay with you, my dears,
for who knows but you might take a fancy to scream out
of window, and then there would be murder, and the deuce
and all to pay. One of us must stay, and my friends love
a pipe, so you must put up with my company until we can
relieve guard."

The reader will not, of course, expect that three people
who were to pass the night, however unwillingly, together
in an inn -room, should sit there dumb and moody, and
without any personal communication ; on the contrary, Mr.
Brock, as an old soldier, entertained his prisoners with the
utmost courtesy, and did all that lay in his power, by the
help of liquor and conversation, to render their durance

CATHERINE: A STORY. 73

tolerable. On the bridegroom his attentions were a good
deal thrown away ; Mr. Hayes consented to drink copious-
ly, but could not be made to talk much ; and, in fact, the
fright of the seizure, the fate hanging over him should his
parents refuse a ransom, and the tremendous outlay of
money which would take place should they accede to it,
weighed altogether on his mind so much as utterly to un-
man it.

As for Mrs. Cat, I don't think she was at all sorry in her
heart to see the old corporal : for he had been a friend of
old times — dear times to her ; she had had from him, too,
and felt for him, not a little kindness ; and there was really
a very tender, innocent friendship subsisting between this
pair of rascals, who relished much a night's conversation
together.

The corporal, after treating his prisoners to punch in
great quantities, proposed the amusement of cards, over
which Mr. Hayes had not been occupied more than an hour,
when he found himself so excessively sleepy as to be per-
suaded to fling himself down on the bed, dressed as he was,
and there to snore away until morning.

Mrs. Catherine had no inclination for sleep ; and the cor-
poral, equally wakeful, plied incessantly the bottle, and
held with her a great deal of conversation. The sleep,
which was equivalent to the absence of John Hayes, took
all restraint from their talk. She explained to Brock the
circumstances of her marriage, which we have already de-
scribed ; they wondered at the chance which had brought
them together at the Three Rooks ; nor did Brock at all
hesitate to tell her at once that his calling was quite illegal,
and that his intention was simply to extort money. The
worthy corporal had not the slightest shame regarding his
own profession, and cut many jokes with Mrs. Cat about
her late one, her attempt to murder the count, and her
future prospects as a wife.

And here, having brought him upon the scene again, we
may as well shortly narrate some of the principal circum-
stances which befell him after his sudden departure from

74 CATHERINE: A STORY.

Birmingham ; and which he narrated with much candour to
Mrs. Catherine.

He rode the captain's horse to Oxford (having exchanged
his military dress for a civil costume on the road), and at
Oxford he disposed of William of Nassau, a great bargain,
to one of the heads of colleges. As soon as Mr. Brock,
who took on himself the style and title of Captain Wood,
had sufficiently examined the curiosities of the university,
he proceeded at once to the capital, the only place for a
gentleman of his fortune and figure.

Here he read, with a great deal of philosophical indiffer-
ence, in the Daily Post, the Courant, the Observator, the
Gazette, and the chief journals of those days, which he
made a point of examining at Button's and Wills' s, an ac-
curate description of his person, his clothes, and the horse
he rode, and a promise of fifty guineas' reward to any per-
son who would give an account of him (so that he might be
captured) to Captain Count Galgenstein at Birmingham, to
Mr. Murfey at the Golden Ball in the Savoy, or Mr. Bates
at the Blew Anchor in Pickadilly. But Captain Wood, in
an enormous full-bottomed periwig that cost him sixty
pounds,* with high red heels to his shoes, a silver sword,
and a gold snuff-box, and a large wound (obtained, he said,
at the siege of Barcelona), which disfigured much of his
countenance, and caused him to cover one eye, was in small
danger, he thought, of being mistaken for Corporal Brock,
the deserter of Cutts's; and strutted along the Mall with
as grave an air as the very best nobleman who appeared
there. He was generally, indeed, noted to be very good
company; and as his expenses were unlimited ("A few
convent candlesticks, my dear," he used to whisper, "melt
into a vast number of doubloons"), he commanded as good
society as he chose to ask for ; and it was speedily known
as a fact throughout town, that Captain Wood, who had
served under his Majesty Charles III. of Spain, had carried
off the diamond petticoat of our Lady of Compostella, and

* In the ingenious contemporary history of Moll Flanders, a peri-
wig is mentioned as costing that sum.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 75

lived upon the proceeds of the fraud. People were good
Protestants in those days, and many a one longed to have
been his partner in the pious plunder.

All surmises concerning his wealth, Captain Wood, with
much discretion, encouraged. He contradicted no report,
but was quite ready to confirm all ; and when two different
rumours were positively put to him, he used only to laugh,
and say, "My dear sir, 1 don't make the stories; but I'm
not called upon to deny them ; and I give you fair warn-
ing, that I shall assent to every one of them ; so you may
believe them or not, as you please :" and so he had the
reputation of being a gentleman, not only wealthy, but
discreet. In truth, it was almost a pity that worthy Brock
had not been a gentleman born ; in which case, doubtless,
he would have lived and died as became his station ; for he
spent his money like a gentleman, he loved women like a
gentleman, would fight like a gentleman, he gambled and
got drunk like a gentleman. What did he want else?
Only a matter of six descents, a little money, and an es-
tate, to render him the equal of Saint John or Harley.

" Ah, those were merry days ! " would Mr. Brock say, —
for he loved, in a good old age, to recount the story of his
London fashionable campaign ; — " and when I think how
near I was to become a great man, and to die perhaps, a
general, I can't but marvel at the wicked obstinacy of my
ill-luck. I will tell you what I did, my dear ; I had lodg-
ings in Piccadilly, as if I were a lord ; I had two large peri-
wigs, and three suits of laced clothes; I kept a little
black, dressed out like a Turk; I walked daily in the
Mall ; I dined at the politest ordinary in Covent Garden ;
I frequented the best of coffee-houses, and knew all the
pretty fellows of the town ; I cracked a bottle with Mr.
Addison, arid lent many a piece to Dick Steele (a sad de-
bauched rogue, my dear) ; and, above all, I'll tell what I
did — the noblest stroke that sure ever a gentleman per-
formed in my situation.

"One day, going into Wills's, I saw a crowd of gentle-
men gathered together, and heard one of them say, ' Cap-

76 CATHERINE: A STORY.

tain Wood! I don't know the man; but there was a Cap-
tain Wood in Southwell's regiment.' Egad, it was my
Lord Peterborough himself who was talking about me!
So, putting off my hat, I made a most gracious congee to
my lord, and said I knew him, and rode behind him at
Barcelona on our entry into that town.

" * No doubt you did, Captain Wood,' says my lord, tak-
ing my hand ; ' and no doubt you know me : for many
more know Tom Fool, than Tom Fool knows.' And with
this, at which all of us laughed, my lord called for a bot-
tle, and he and I sate down and drank it together.

" Well* he was in disgrace, as you know, but he grew
mighty fond of me; and — would you believe it? — nothing
would satisfy him but presenting me at court! Yes, to her
sacred Majesty (as was then), and my Lady Marlbo rough,
who was in high feather. Ay, truly, the sentinels on duty
used to salute me as if I were Corporal John himself! I
was in the highroad to fortune. Charley Mordaunt used to
call me Jack, and drink canary at my chambers ; I used to
make one at my Lord Treasurer's levee; I had even got
Mr. Army-Secretary Walpole to take a hundred guineas in
a compliment; and he had promised me a majority, when
bad luck turned, and all my fine hopes were overthrown in
a twinkling.

" You see, my dear, that after we had left that gaby,
Galgenstein, — ha, ha, — with a gag in his mouth, and two-
pence-halfpenny in his pocket, the honest count was in the
sorriest plight in the world, owing money here and there
to tradesmen, a cool thousand to the Yorkshire squire, and
all this on eighty pounds a year ! Well, for a little time
the tradesmen held their hands, while the jolly count moved
heaven and earth to catch hold of his dear corporal and his
dear money-bags over again, and placarded every town
from London to Liverpool with descriptions of my pretty
person. The bird was flown, however, — the money clean
gone, — and when there was no hope of regaining it, what
did the creditors do but clap my gay gentleman into
Shrewsbury gaol, where I wish he had rotted, for my part.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 77

" But no such luck for honest Peter Brock, or Captain
Wood, as he was in those days. One blessed Monday I
went to wait on Mr. Secretary, and he squeezed my hand
and whispered to me that I was to be major of a regiment
in Virginia — the very thing : for you see, my dear, I didn't
care about joining my lord duke in Flanders, being pretty
well known to the army there. The Secretary squeezed
my hand (it had a fifty-pound bill in it) and wished me
joy, and called me major, and bowed me out of his closet
into the anteroom ; and, as gay as may be, I went off to the
Tilt- Yard Coffee-house in Whitehall, which is much fre-
quented by gentlemen of our profession, where I bragged
not a little of my good luck.

" Amongst the company were several of my acquaintance,
and amongst them a gentleman I did not much care to see,
look you ! I saw a uniform that I knew — red and yellow
facings — Cutts's, my dear; and the wearer of this was no
other than his Excellency Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian,
whom we all know of !

" He stared me full in the face, right into my eye (t'other
one was patched, you know) ; and after standing stock-still
with his mouth open, gave a step back, and then a step
forward, and then screeched out, 'It's Brock! '

"'I beg your pardon, sir,' says I; ' did you speak to
me?'

"' I'll swear it's Brock,' cries Gal, as soon as he hears
my voice, and laid hold of my cuff (a pretty bit of mechlin
as ever you saw, by the way).

" ' Sirrah ! ' says I, drawing it back, and giving my lord
a little touch of the fist (just at the last button of the
waistcoat, my dear, — a rare place if you wish to prevent a
man from speaking too much ; it sent him reeling to the
other end of the room). ' Ruffian! ' says I; ' dog! ' says
I ; f insolent puppy and coxcomb ! what do you mean by lay-
ing your hand on me? '

"' Faith, major, you giv' him his billyfull,' roared out a
long Irish unattached ensign, that I had treated with many
a glass of Nantz at the tavern. And so, indeed, I had ; for

78 CATHERINE: A STORY.

the poor wretch could not speak for some minutes, and all
the officers stood laughing at him, as he writhed and wrig-
gled hideously.

"'Gentlemen, this is a monstrous scandal,' says one
officer ; ' men of rank and honour at fists like a parcel of
carters ! '

" f Men of honour ! ' says the count, who had fetched up
his breath by this time. (I made for the door, but Mac-
shane held me and said, ' Major, you are not going to shirk
him, sure? ' Whereupon, I gripped his hand, and vowed
I would have the dog's life.)

" ' Men of honour ! ' says the count. ' I tell you the
man is a deserter, a thief, and a swindler ! He was my
corporal, and ran away with a thou —

" ' Dog, you lie ! ' I roared out, and made another cut at
him with my cane ; but the gentlemen rushed between us.

" ' 0 bluthanowns ! ' says honest Macshane, ' the lying
scounthril this fellow is! Gentlemen, I swear, be me
honour, that Captain Wood was wounded at Barcelona;
and that I saw him there ; and that he and I ran away to-
gether at the battle of Almanza, and bad luck to us.' You
see, my dear, that these Irish have the strongest imagina-
tions in the world ; and that I had actually persuaded poor
Mac that he and I were friends in Spain. Everybody knew
Mac, who was a character in his way, and believed him.
1 Strike a gentleman!' says I; c I'll have your blood, I
will.'

"'This instant,' says the count, who was boiling with
fury; ' and where you like.'

"' Montague House,' says I. ' Good,' says he; and off
we went, in good time too, for the constables came in at the
thought of such a disturbance, and wanted to take us in
charge.

" But the gentlemen present, being military men, would
not hear of this. Out came Mac's rapier, and that of half
a dozen others ; and the constables were then told to do
their duty if they liked, or to take a crown-piece and leave
us to ourselves. Off they went; and presently, in a couple

CATHERINE: A STORY. 79

of coaches, the count and his friends, I and mine, drove off
to the fields behind Montague House. Oh, that vile coffee-
house, why did I enter it?

" We came to the ground. Honest Macshane was my
second, and much disappointed because the second on the
other side would not make a fight of it, and exchange a few
passes with him; but he was an old major, a cool old hand,
as brave as steel and no fool. Well, the swords are meas-
ured, Galgenstein strips off his doublet, and I my hand-
some cut- velvet in like fashion. Galgenstein flings off his
hat, and I handed mine over — the lace on it cost me
twenty pounds. I longed to be at him, for — curse him !—
I hate him, and know that he has no chance with me at
sword'' s-play.

" e You'll not fight in that periwig, sure? ' says Mac-
shane. ' Of course not/ says I, and took it off.

" May all barbers be roasted in flames ; may all periwigs,
bobwigs, scratchwigs, and Rarnillies cocks, frizzle in purga-
tory from this day forth to the end of time ! Mine was the
ruin of me : what might I not have been now but for that
wig?

" I gave it over to Ensign Macshane, and with it went,
what I had quite forgotten, the large patch which I wore
over one eye, which popped out fierce, staring, and lively
as was ever any eye in the world.

" ' Come on ! ' says I, and made a lunge at my count ; but
he sprung back (the dog was as active as a hare, and knew,
from old times, that I was his master with the small-sword),
and his second, wondering, struck up my blade.

" * I will not fight that man/ says he, looking mighty
pale : ' I swear upon my honour, that his name is Peter
Brock; he was for two years my corporal, and deserted,
running away with a thousand pounds of my moneys.
Look at the fellow ! what is the matter with his eye? why
did he wear a patch over it? But stop ! ' says he, 1 1 have
more proof, hand me my pocket-book ; ' and from it, sure
enough, he produced the infernal proclamation announcing
my desertion ! ' See if the fellow has a scar across his left

80 CATHERINE: A STORY.

ear ' (and I can't say, my dear, but what I have ; it was
done by a cursed Dutchman at the Boyne) ; f tell me if he
has not got C. K. in blue upon his right arm ' (and there it
is sure enough). ' Yonder swaggering Irishman may be
his accomplice for what I know ; but I will have no dealings
with Mr. Brock, except with a constable for a second. '

" ' This is an odd story, Captain Wood,' said the old
major who acted for the count.

"fA scounthrelly falsehood regarding me and my
friend ! ' shouted out Mr. Macshane ; ( and the count shall
answer for it. '

"'Stop, stop,' says the major; ' Captain Wood is too
gallant a gentleman, I am sure, not to satisfy the count ;
and will show us that he has no such mark on his arm as
only private soldiers put there.'

" ' Captain Wood,' says I, ' will do no such thing, major.
I'll fight that scoundrel Galgen stein, or you, or any of you,
like a man of honour, but I won't submit to be searched
like a thief!'

"' No, in coorse,' says Macshane.

" ' I must take my man off the ground,' says the major.

" ' Well, take him, sir,' says I, in a rage, f and just let
me have the pleasure of telling him, that he's a coward and
a liar ; and that my lodgings are in Piccadilly, where, if
ever he finds courage to meet me, he may hear of me ! '

"' Faugh! I shpit on ye all,' cries my gallant ally, Mac-
shane ; and sure enough he kept his word, or all but — suit-
ing the action to it at any rate. And so we gathered up
our clothes, and went back in our separate coaches, and no
blood spilt.

"' And is it thrue now,' said Mr. Macshane, when we
were alone ; ' is it thrue now all these divles have been
saying? '

" ' Ensign,' says I, ' you're a man of the world? '

"f 'Deed and I am, and insign these twenty-two years.'

" ' Perhaps you'd like a few pieces,' says I.

" ' 'Faith and I should; for, to tell you the secred thrut,
I've not tasted mate these four days.'

CATHERINE: A STORY.

81

<i{ Well then, ensign, it is true/ says I; ' and as for
meat, you shall have some at the first cook-shop. ' I bade
the coach stop until he bought a plateful, which he ate
in the carriage, for my time was precious. I just told him
the whole story, at which he laughed, and swore that it
was the best piece of gineralship he ever heard on. When
his belly was full, I took out a couple of guineas, and gave
them to him ; and Mr. Macshane began to cry at this, and
kissed me, and swore he never would desert me ; as, indeed,
my dear, I don't think he will, for we have been the best
of friends ever since, and he's the only man I ever could
trust, I think.

"I don't know what put it into my head; but I had a
scent of some mischief in the wind ; so stopped the coach
a little before I got home, and, turning into a tavern,
begged Macshane to go before me to my lodging, and see if
the coast was clear, which he did ; and came back to me as
pale as death, saying that the house was full of constables :
the cursed quarrel at the Tilt- Yard had, I suppose, set the
beaks upon me ; and a pretty sweep they made of it. Ah,
my dear! five hundred pounds in money, five suits of laced
clothes, three periwigs, besides laced shirts, swords, canes,
and snuff-boxes; and all to go back to that scoundrel
count.

" It was all over with me, I saw — no more being a gen-
tleman for me, and if I remained to be caught, only a
choice between Tyburn and a file of grenadiers. My love,
under such circumstances, a gentleman can't be particular,
and must be prompt : the livery-stable was hard by where
I used to hire my coach to go to court, — ha! ha! — and was
known as a man of substance, — thither I went immediate-
ly. t Mr. Warmmash,' says I, ' my gallant friend here
and I have a mind for a ride and a supper at Twickenham,
so you must lend us a pair of your best horses ; ' which he
did in a twinkling, and off we rode.

" We did not go into the Park, but turned off and can-
tered smartly up towards Kilburn; and, when we got into
the country, galloped as if the devil were at our heels.

82 CATHERINE: A STORY.

Bless you, my love, it was all done in a minute : and the
ensign and I found ourselves regular knights of the road,
before we knew where we were almost. Only think of our
finding you and your new husband at the Three Rooks !
there's not a greater fence than the landlady in all the
country. It was she that put us on seizing your husband,
and introduced us to the other two gentlemen, whose names
I don't know any more than the dead."

* * * * *

"And what became of the horses? " said Mrs. Catherine
to Mr. Brock when his tale was finished.

"Rips, madam," said he; "mere rips: we sold them at
Stourbridge fair, and got but thirteen guineas for the two."

"And — and — the count, Max; where is he, Brock?"
sighed she.

" Whew ! " whistled Mr. Brock ; " what, hankering after
him still? My dear, he is off to Flanders with his regi-
ment ; and, I make no doubt, there have been twenty Count-
esses of G-algenstein since your time."

"I don't believe any such thing, sir," said Mrs. Cathe-
rine, starting up very angrily.

"If you did, I suppose you'd laudanum him; wouldn't
you?"

" Leave the room, fellow," said the lady. But she recol-
lected herself speedily again; and, clasping her hands, and
looking very wretched at Brock, at the ceiling, at the floor,
at her husband (from whom she violently turned away her
head), she began to cry piteously; to which tears the cor-
poral set up a gentle accompaniment of whistling, as they
trickled one after another down her nose.

I don't think they were tears of repentance; but of re-
gret for the time when she had her first love, and her fine
clothes, and her white hat and blue feather. Of the two,
the corporal's whistle was much more innocent than the
girl's sobbing; he was a rogue, but a good-natured old fel-
low, when his humour was not crossed. Surely our novel-
writers make a great mistake in divesting their rascals of
all gentle human qualities; they have such — and the only

CATHERINE: A STORY. 83

sad point to think of is, in all private concerns of life, ab-
stract feelings, and dealings with friends, and so on, how
dreadfully like a rascal is to an honest man. The man
who murdered the Italian boy set him first to play with hia
children, whom he loved, and who doubtless deplored his
loss.

84 CATHERINE; A STORY.

CHAPTER VI.

THE ADVENTURES OF THE AMBASSADOR, MR.
MACSHANE.

IF we had not been obliged to follow history in all re-
spects, it is probable that we should have left out the last
adventure of Mrs. Catherine and her husband, at the inn
at Worcester, altogether; for, in truth, very little came of
it, and it is not very Tomantic or striking. But we are
bound to stick closely, above all, by THE TRUTH — the truth,
though it be not particularly pleasant to read of or to tell.
As anybody may Tead in the "Newgate Calendar," Mr. and
Mrs. Hayes were taken at an inn at Worcester, were con-
fined there, were swindled by persons who pretended to
impress the bridegroom for military service. What is one
to do after that? Had we been writing novels instead of
authentic histories, we might have carried them anywhere
else we chose; and we had a great mind to make Hayes
philosophising with Bolingbroke, like a certain Devereux ;
and Mrs. Catherine maitresse en titre to Mr. Alexander
Pope, Doctor Sacheverel, Sir John Keade the oculist, Dean
Swift, or Marshal Tallard, as the very commonest romancer
would under such circumstances. But, alas and alas ! truth
must be spoken, whatever else is in the wind; and the ex-
cellent " Newgate Calendar," which contains the biographies
and thanatographies of Hayes and his wife, does not say a
word of their connections with any of the leading literary
or military heroes of the time of her Majesty Queen Anne.
The " Calendar " says, in so many words, that Hayes was
obliged to send to his father in Warwickshire, for money
to get him out of the scrape, and that the old gentleman
came down to his aid: by this truth must we stick; and
not for the sake of the most brilliant episode, — no, not for
a bribe of twenty extra guineas per sheet, would we depart
from it.

GATHERED: A STORY. 85

Mr. Brock's account of his adventure in London has
given the reader some short notice of his friend, Mr. Mac-
shane. Neither the wits nor the principles of that worthy
ensign were particularly firm; for drink, poverty, and a
crack on the skull at the battle of Steenkirk, had served to
injure the former; and the ensign was not in his best days
possessed of any share of the latter. He had really, at one
period, held such a rank in the army, but pawned his half-
pay for drink and play; and for many years past had lived,
one of the hundred thousand miracles of our city, upon
nothing that anybody knew of, or of which he himself could
give any account. Who has not a catalogue of these men.
in his list? who can tell whence comes the occasional clean
shirt, who supplies the continual means of drunkenness,
who wards off the daily-impending starvation? Their life
is a wonder from day to day; their breakfast a wonder;
their dinner a miracle ; their bed an interposition of Provi-
dence. If you and I, my dear sir, want a shilling to-mor-
row, who will give it us? Will our butchers give us
mutton-chops? will our laundresses clothe us in clean linen?
— not a bone or a rag. Standing as we do (may it be ever
so) somewhat removed from want,* is there one of us who
does not shudder at the thought of descending into the lists
to combat with it, and expect anything but to be utterly
crushed in the encounter?

Not a bit of it, my dear sir. It takes much more than
you think for to starve a man. Starvation is very little
when you are used to it. Some people I know even, who
live on it quite comfortably, and make their daily bread by
it. It had been our friend Macshane's sole profession for
many years ; and he did not fail to draw from it such a
livelihood as was sufficient, and, perhaps, too good, for
him. He managed to dine upon it a certain, or rather un-
certain, number of days in the week, to sleep somewhere,
and to get drunk at least three hundred times a year. He
was known to one or two noblemen who occasionally helped

* The author, it must be remembered, has his lodgings and food
provided for him by the government of his country.— O. Y.

86 CATHERINE: A STORY.

him with a few pieces, and whom he helped in turn — never
mind how. He had other acquaintances whom he pestered
undauntedly ; and from whom he occasionally extracted a
dinner, or a crown, or mayhap, by mistake, a gold-headed
cane, which found its way to the pawnbroker's. When
flush of cash, he would appear at the coffee-house; when
low in funds, the deuce knows into what mystic caves and
dens he slunk for food and lodging. He was perfectly
ready with his sword, and when sober, or better still, a
very little tipsy, was a complete master of it ; in the art of
boasting and lying he had hardly any equals ; in shoes he
stood six feet five inches, and here is his complete signale-
ihent. It was a fact that he had been in Spain as a volun-
teer, where he had shown some gallantry, had had a brain-
fever, and was sent home to starve as before.

Mr. Macshane had, however, like Mr. Conrad, the cor-
sair, one virtue, in the midst of a thousand crimes, — he
was faithful to his employer for the time being : and a story
is told of him, which may or may not be to his credit, viz.,
that being hired on one occasion by a certain lord to inflict
a punishment upon a roturier who had crossed his lordship
in his amours, he, Macshane, did actually refuse from the
person to be belaboured, and who entreated his forbear-
ance, a larger sum of money than the nobleman gave him
for the beating, which he performed punctually, as bound
in honour and friendship. This tale would the ensign him-
self relate, with much self-satisfaction; and when, after
the sudden flight from London, he and Brock took to their
roving occupation, he cheerfully submitted to the latter as
his commanding officer, called him always major, and, bat-
ing blunders and drunkenness, was perfectly true to his
leader. He had a notion — and, indeed, I don't knpw that
it was a wrong one — that his profession was now, as before,
strictly military, and according to the rules of honour.
Robbing he called plundering the enemy; and hanging was,
in his idea, a dastardly and cruel advantage that the latter
took, and that called for the sternest reprisals.

The other gentlemen concerned were strangers to Mr.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 87

Brock, who felt little inclined to trust either of them upon
such a message, or with such a large sum to bring back.
They had, strange to say, a similar mistrust on their side;
but Mr. Brock lugged out five guineas, which he placed in
the landlady's hand as security for his comrade's return;
and Ensign Macshane, being mounted on poor Hayes' sowa
horse, set off to visit the parents of that unhappy young
man. It was a gallant sight to behold our thieves' ambas-
sador, in a faded sky-blue suit, with orange facings, in a
pair of huge jack-boots, unconscious of blacking, with a
mighty basket-hilted sword by his side, and a little shabby
beaver, cocked over a large tow-periwig, ride out from the
inn of the Three Rooks on his mission to Hayes's paternal
village.

It was eighteen miles distant from Worcester ; but Mr.
Macshane performed the distance in safety, and in sobriety,
moreover (for such had been his instructions), and had no
difficulty in discovering the house of old Hayes ; towards
which, indeed, John's horse trotted incontinently. Mrs.
Hayes, who was knitting at the house door, was not a lit.tle
surprised at the appearance of the well-known grey geld-
ing, and of the stranger mounted upon it.

Flinging himself off the steed with much agility, Mr.
Macshane, as soon as his feet reached the ground, brought
them rapidly together, in order to make a profound and
elegant bow to Mrs. Hayes ; and slapping his greasy beaver
against his heart, and poking his periwig almost into the
nose of the old lady, demanded whether he had the " shoo-
prame honour of adthressing Misthriss Hees? "

Having been answered in the affirmative, he then pro-
ceeded to ask whether there was a blackguard boy in the
house who would take " the horse to the steeble ; " whether
"he could have a dthrink of small-beer or buthermilk,
being, faith, uncommon dthry ; " and whether, finally, " he
could be feevored with a few minutes' private conversation
with her and Mr. Hees, on a matther of consitherable im-
partance? " All these preliminaries were to be complied
with before Mr. Macshane would enter at all into the sub-

88 CATHERINE: A STORY.

ject of his visit. The horse and man were cared for ; Mr.
Hayes was called in; and not a little anxious did Mrs.
Hayes grow, in the meanwhile, with regard to the fate of
her darling son. " Where is he? How is he? Is he
dead? " said the old lady. " Oh yes, I'm sure he's dead ! »

"Indeed, madam, and you're misteeken intirely: the
young man is perfectly well in health."

" Oh, praised be Heaven ! "

"But mighty cast down in sperrits. To misfortunes,
madam, look you, the best of us are subject ; and a trifling
one has fell upon your son."

And herewith Mr. Macshane produced a letter in the
handwriting of young Hayes, of which we have had the
good luck to procure a copy. It ran thus : —

"HONORED FATHER AND MOTHER — The bearer of this
is a kind gentleman, who has left me in a great deal of
trouble. Yesterday, at this towne, I fell in with some
gentlemen of the queene's servas; after drinking with
whom, I accepted her majesty's mony to enliste. Repent-
ing thereof, I did endeavour to escape ; and, in so doing,
had the misfortune to strike my superior officer, whereby I
made myself liable to Death, according to the rules of warr.
If, however, I pay twenty ginnys, all will be wel. You
must give the same to the barer, els I shall be shott with-
out fail on Tewsday morning. And so no more from your
loving son, JOHN HAYES.

" From my prison at Bristol,
this unhappy Monday."

When Mrs. Hayes read this pathetic missive, its success
with her was complete, and she was for going immediately
to the cupboard, and producing the money necessary for
her darling son's release. But the carpenter Hayes was
much more suspicious. " I don't know you, sir," said he
to the ambassador.

" Do you doubt my honour, sir? " said the ensign, very
fiercely.

CATHERINE: A STORY.

89

"Why, sir," replied Mr. Hayes, "I know little about it,
one way or other, but shall take it for granted, if you will
explain a little more of this business."

"I sildom condescind to explean," said Mr. Macshane,
"for it's not the custom in my rank; but I'll explean any-
thing in reason."

" Pray, will you tell me in what regiment my son is en-
listed?"

"In coorse. In Colonel Wood's fut, my dear; and a
gallant corps it is as any in the army."

"And you left him ? "

" On me soul, only three hours ago, having rid like a
horse- jockey ever since, as in the sacred cause of humanity,
curse me, every man should."

As Hayes's house was seventy miles from Bristol, the
old gentleman thought this was marvellous quick riding,
and so cut the conversation short. " You have said quite
enough, sir, " said he, " to show me there is some roguery
in the matter, and that the whole story is false from begin-
ning to end."

At this abrupt charge the ensign looked somewhat puz-
zled, and then spoke with much gravity. "Roguery,"
said he, " Misthur Hees, is a sthrong term, and which, in
consideration of my friendship for your family, I shall pass
over. You doubt your son's honour, as there wrote by him
in black and white? "

"You have forced him to write," said Mr. Hayes.

"The sly ould divvle's right," muttered Mr. Macshane,
aside. " Well, sir* to make a clean breast of it, he has
been forced to write it. The story about the enlistment is
a pretty fib, if you will, from beginning to end. And what
then, my dear? Do you think your son's any better off for
that? "

"Oh, where is he?" screamed Mrs. Hayes, plumping
down on her knees. " We will give him the money, won't
we, John? "

" I know you will, madam, when I tell you where he is.
He is in the hands of some gentlemen of my acquaintance,

90 CATHERINE: A STORY.

who are at war with the present government, and no more
care about cutting a man's throat than they do a chicken's.
He is a prisoner, madam, of our sword and spear. If you
choose to ransom him, well and good ; if not, peace be with
him! for nevermore shall you see him."

"And how do I know you won't come back to-morrow for
more money? " asked Mr. Hayes.

"Sir, you have my honour, and I'd as lieve break my
neck as my word," said Mr. Macshane, gravely. " Twenty
guineas is the bargain. Take ten minutes to talk of it —
take it then, or leave it; it's all the same to me, my dear."
And it must be said of our friend the ensign, that he meant
every word he said, and that he considered the embassy on
which he had come as perfectly honourable and regular.

"And, pray, what prevents us," said Mr. Hayes, start-
ing up in a rage, "from taking hold of you, as a surety for
him?"

"You wouldn't fire on a flag of truce, would ye, you dis-
honourable ould civilian? " replied Mr. Macshane. "Be-
sides," says he, "there's more reasons to prevent you: the
first is this, " pointing to his sword ; " here are two more •"
— and these were pistols ; " and the last and the best of all
is, that you might hang me, and dthraw me, and quarther
me, and yet never see so much as the tip of your son's nose
again. Look you, sir, we run mighty risks in our profes-
sion— it's not all play, I can tell you. We're obliged to
be punctual, too, or it's all up with the thrade. If I prom-
ise that your son will die as sure as fate to-morrow morn-
ing, unless I return home safe, our people must keep my
promise ; or else what chance is there for me? You would
be down upon me in a moment with a posse of constables,
and have me swinging before Warwick gaol. Pooh, my
dearJ you never would sacrifice a darling boy like John
Hayes, let alone his lady, for the sake of my long carcass.
One or two of our gentlemen have been taken that way
already, because parents and guardians would not believe
them."

" And what became of the poor children ? " said Mrs.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 91

Hayes, who began to perceive the gist of the argument, and
to grow dreadfully frightened.

"Don't let's talk of them, ma'am: humanity shudthers
a't the thought ! " And herewith Mr. Macshane drew his
linger across his throat, in such a dreadful way as to make
the two parents tremble. "It's the way of war, madam,
look you. The service I have the honour to belong to is
not paid by the Queen ; and so we're obliged to make our
prisoners pay, according to established military practice."

No lawyer could have argued his case better than Mr.
Macshane so far, and he completely succeeded in convinc-
in'g Mr. and Mrs. Hayes of the necessity of ransoming their
son. Promising that the young man should be restored to
them next morning, along with his beautiful lady, he cour-
teously took leave of the old couple, and made the best of
his way back to Worcester again. The elder Hayes won-
dered who the lady could be of whom the ambassador had
spoken, for their son's elopement was altogether unknown
to them ; but anger or doubt about this subject was over-
Whelmed by their fears for their darling John's safety.
Away rode the gallant Macshane with the money nec-
essary to effect this ; and it must be mentioned, as highly
to his credit, that he never once thought of appropriating
the sum to himself, or of deserting his comrades in any
way.

His ride from Worcester had been a long one. He had
left that city at noon, but before his return thither the sun
had gone down ; and the landscape, which had been dressed,
like a prodigal, in purple and gold, now appeared, like a
quaker, in dusky grey; and the trees by the roadside grew
black as undertakers or physicians, and, bending their sol-
emn heads to each other, whispered ominously among them-
selves; and the mists hung on the common; and the cot-
tage lights went out one by one ; and the earth and heaven
grew black, but for some twinkling useless stars, which
freckled the ebon countenance of the latter ; and the air
grew colder; and about two o'clock the moon appeared, a
dismal pale-faced rake, walking solitary through the de-

92 CATHERINE: A STORY.

serted sky ; and about four, mayhap, the Dawn (wretched
' prentice-boy!) opened in the east the shutters of the Day;
— in other words, more than a dozen hours had passed,
Corporal Brock had been relieved by Mr. Redcap, the latter
by Mr. Sicklop (the one-eyed gentleman to be seen in the
last Number), and Mrs. John Hayes, in spite of her sor-
rows and bashfulness, had followed the example of her
husband, and fallen asleep by his side — slept for many
hours — and awakened still under the guardianship of Mr.
Brock's troop; and all parties began anxiously to expect
the return of the ambassador, Mr. Macshane.

That officer, who had performed the first part of his jour-
ney with such distinguished prudence and success, found
the night, on his journey homewards, was growing mighty
cold and dark; and as he was thirsty and hungry, had
money in his purse, and saw no cause to hurry, he deter-
mined to take refuge at an alehouse for the night, and to
make for Worcester by dawn the next morning. He ac-
cordingly alighted at the first inn on his road, consigned his
horse to the stable, and, entering the kitchen, called for
the best liquor in the house.

A small company was assembled at the inn, among whom
Mr. Macshane took his place with a great deal of dignity;
and having a considerable sum of money in his pocket,
felt a mighty contempt for his society, and soon let them
know the contempt he felt for them. After a third flagon
of ale, he discovered that the liquor was sour, and emptied,
with much spluttering and grimaces, the remainder of the
beer into the fire. This process so offended the parson of
the parish (who in those good old times did not disdain to
take the post of honour in the chimney-nook), that he left
his corner, looking wrathfully at the offender; who with-
out any more ado instantly occupied it. It was a fine thing
to hear the jingling of the twenty pieces in his pocket, the
oaths which he distributed between the landlord, the guests,
and the liquor — to remark the sprawl of his mighty jack-
boots, before the sweep of which the timid guests edged
farther and farther away ; and the languishing leers which

CATHERINE: A STORY. 93

he cast on the landlady, as with widespread arms he at-
tempted to seize upon her.

When the ostler had done his duties in the stable, he
entered the inn, and whispered the landlord that "the
stranger was riding John Hayes's horse:" of which fact
the host soon convinced himself, and did not fail to have
some suspicions of his guest. Had he not thought that
times were unquiet, horses might be sold, and one man's
money was as good as another's, he probably would have
arrested the ensign immediately, and so lost all the profit
of the score which the latter was causing every moment to
be enlarged.

In a couple of hours, with that happy facility which one
may have often remarked in men of the gallant ensign's
nation, he had managed to disgust every one of the land-
lord's other guests, and scare them from the kitchen
Frightened by his addresses, the landlady too had taken
flight ; and the host was the only person left in the apart-
ment, who there stayed for interest's sake merely, and lis-
tened moodily to his tipsy guest's conversation. In an
hour more, the whole house wais awakened by a violent
noise of howling, curses, and pots clattering to and fro.
Forth issued Mrs. Landlady in her night-gear, out came
John Ostler with his pitchfork, downstairs tumbled Mrs.
Cook and one or two guests, and found the landlord and
ensign on the kitchen-floor — the wig of the latter lying,
much singed, and emitting strange odours, in the fireplace,
his face hideously distorted, and a great quantity of his
natural hair in the partial occupation of the landlord, who
had drawn it and the head down towards him, in order
that he might have the benefit of pummelling the latter
more at his ease. In revenge, the landlord was undermost,
and the ensign's arms were working up and down his face
and body like the flaps of a paddle-wheel : the man of war
had clearly the best of it.

The combatants were separated as soon as possible ; but
a,s soon as the excitement of the fight was over, Ensign
Macshane was found to have no further powers of speech,

94 CATHERINE : A STORY.

sense, or locomotion, and was carried by his late antagonist
to bed. His sword and pistols, which had been placed at
his side at the commencement of the evening, were care-
fully put by, and his pocket visited. Twenty guineas in
gold, a large knife — used, probably, for the cutting of
bread-and-cheese — some crumbs of those delicacies, and a
paper of tobacco, were found in the breeches* pockets;
while in the bosom of the sky-blue coat reposed the leg of
a cold fowl, and half of a raw onion, which constituted his
whole property.

These articles were not very suspicious; but the beating
which the landlord had received tended greatly to confirm
his own and his wife's doubts about their guest; and it was
determined to send off in the early morning to Mr. Hayes,
informing him how a person had lain at their inn who had
ridden thither mounted upon young Hayes's horse. Off
set John Ostler at earliest dawn; but on his way he woke
up Mr. Justice's clerk, and communicated his suspicions to
him; and Mr. Clerk consulted with the village baker, who
was up always early; and the clerk, the baker, the butcher
with his cleaver, and two gentlemen who were going to
work, all adjourned to the inn.

Accordingly, when Ensign Macshane was in a truckle-
bed, plunged in that deep slumber which only innocence
and drunkenness enjoy in this world, and charming the
ears of morn by the regular and melodious music of his
nose, a vile plot was laid against him; and when about
seven of the clock he woke, he found, on sitting up in his
bed, three gentlemen on each side of it, armed, and look-
ing ominous. One held a constable's staff, and, albeit un-
provided with a warrant, would take upon himself the
responsibility of seizing Mr. Macshane, and of carrying him
before his worship at the hall.

" Taranouns, man ! " said the ensign, springing up in bed,
and abruptly breaking off a loud, sonorous yawn, with which
he had opened the business of the day, "you won't deteen
a gentleman who's on life and death? I give ye my word,
an affair of honour."

CATHERINE: A STORY. 95

"How came you by that there horse?" said the
baker.

" How came you by these here fifteen guineas? " said the
landlord, in whose hands, by some process, five of the gold
pieces had disappeared.

" What is this here idolatrous string of beads? " said the
clerk.

Mr. Macshane, the fact is, was a Catholic, but did not
care to own it, for in those days his religion was not popu-
lar. "Baids? Holy Mother of saints! give me back them
baids," said Mr. Macshane, clasping his hands. "They

were blest, I tell you, by his holiness the po psha! I

mane they belong to a darling little daughter I had that's
in heaven now; and as for the money and the horse, I
should like to know how a gentleman is to travel in this
counthry without them? "

" Why, you see, he may travel in the country to git 'em,"
here shrewdly remarked the constable; " and it's our belief
that neither horse nor money is honestly come by. If his
worship is satisfied, why so, in course, shall we be; but
there is highwaymen abroad, look you, and, to our notion,
you have very much the cut of one."

Further remonstrances or threats on the part of Mr. Mac-
shane were useless : although he vowed that he was first-
cousin to the Duke of Leinster, an officer in her Majesty's
service, and the dearest friend Lord Maryborough had, his
impudent captors would not believe a word of his statement
(which, further, was garnished with a tremendous number
of oaths) , and he was, about eight o'clock, carried up to
the house of Squire Ballance, the neighbouring justice of
the peace.

When the worthy magistrate asked the crime of which
the prisoner had been guilty, the captors looked somewhat
puzzled for the moment; since, in truth, it could not be
shown that the ensign had committed any crime at all; and
if he had. confined himself to simple silence, and thrown
upon them the onus of proving his misdemeanours, Justice
Ballance must have let him loose, and soundly rated his

5 Vol. 13

96 CATHERINE: A STORY.

clerk and the landlord for detaining an honest gentleman
on so frivolous a charge.

But this caution was not in the ensign's disposition; and
though his accusers produced no satisfactory charge against
him, his own words were quite enough to show how suspi-
cious his character was. When asked his name, he gave it
in as Captain Geraldine, in his way to Ireland, by Bristol,
on a visit to his cousin, the Duke of Leinster. He swore
solemnly, that his friends, the Duke of Marlborough and
Lord Peterborough, under both of whom he had served,
should hear of the manner in which he had been treated;
and when the justice, a sly old gentleman, and one that
itead the gazettes, asked him at what battles he had been
present, the gallant ensign pitched on a couple in Spain and
in Flanders, which had been fought within a week of each
other, and vowed that he had been desperately wounded at
both; so that, at the end of his examination, which had
been taken down by the clerk, he had been made to
acknowledge as follows: — Captain Geraldine, six feet four
inches in height; thin, with a very long red nose, and red
hair; grey eyes, and speaks with a strong Irish accent, is
the first-cousin of the Duke of Leinster, and in constant
communication with him : does not know whether his grace
has any children; does not know whereabouts he lives in
London; cannot say what sort of a looking man his grace
is; is acquainted with the Duke of Marlborough, and served
in the dragoons at the battle of Kamillies; at which time
he was with my Lord Peterborough before Barcelona. Bor-
rowed the horse which he rides from a friend in London,
three weeks since. Peter Hobbs, ostler, swears that it was
in his master's stable four days ago, and is the property of
John Hayes, carpenter. Cannot account for the fifteen
guineas found on him by the landlord; says they were
twenty; says he won them at cards, a fortnight since at
Edinburgh; says he is riding about the country for his
amusement : afterwards says he is on a matter of life and
death, and going to Bristol; declared last night, in the
hearing of several witnesses, that he was going to York;

CATHERINE: A STORY. 97

says he is a man of independent property, and has large
estates in Ireland, and a hundred thousand pounds in the
Bank of England. Has no shirt or stockings, and the coat
he wears is marked S. S. ; in. his boots are written "Thomas
Rodgers," and in his hat is the name of the "Rev. Doctor
Snoffler."

Dr. Snoffler lived at Worcester, and had lately adver-
tised in the Hue and Cry a number of articles taken from
his house. Mr. Macshane said, in reply to this, that his
hat had been changed at the inn, and he was ready to take
his oath that he came thither in a gold-laced one. But this
fact was disproved by the oaths of many persons who had
seen him at the inn. And he was about to be imprisoned
for the thefts which he had not committed (the fact about
the hat being, that he had purchased it from a gentleman
at the Three Rooks, for two pints of beer) — he was about
to be remanded, when, behold, Mrs. Hayes the elder made
her appearance; and to her it was that the ensign was in-
debted for his freedom.

Old. Hayes had gone to work before the ostler arrived;
but when his wife heard the lad's message, she instantly
caused her pillion to be placed behind the saddle, and
mounting the grey horse, urged the stable-boy to gallop as
hard as ever he could to the justice's house.

She entered panting and alarmed. "Oh, what is your
honour going to do to this honest gentleman? " said she.
" In the name of Heaven, let him go ! His time is precious
— he has important business — business of life and death."

" I tould the jidge so," said the ensign, " but he refused
to take my word — the sacred wnrrd of honour of Captain
Geraldine."

Macshane was good at a single lie, though easily flus-
tered on an examination; and this was a very creditable
stratagem to acquaint Mrs. Hayes with the name that he
bore.

"What! you know Captain Geraldine?" said Mr. Bal-
lance, who was perfectly well acquainted with the carpen-
ter's wife.

98 CATHERINE: A STORY.

•''In coorse she does. Hasn't she known ine these tin
years? Are we not related? Didn't she give me the very
horse which I rode, and, to make belave, tould you I'd
bought in London? "

" Let her tell her own story. Are you related to Captain
Geraldine, Mrs. Hayes? "
.."Yes— oh yes!"

" A very elegant connection ! And you gave him the
horse, did you, of your own free-will? "
•••"Oh yes! of my own will — I would give him anything.
Do, do, your honour, let him go. His child is dying,"
said the old lady, bursting into tears ; " it may be dead be-
ford he gets to — before he gets there. Oh, your honour,
your honour, pray, pray, don't detain Trim !s"

: The justice did not seem to understand this excessive
sympathy on the part of Mrs. Hayes; nor did the father
himself appear to be nearly so affected l>y his child's prob-
able fate as the honest woman who interested herself for
him; On the contrary, when she made this passionate
speech, Captain Geraldine only grinned, and said, "Niver
mind, my dear, if his honour will keep an honest gentle-
man for doing nothing, why let ' him — the law must settle
between us; and as for the child, poor thing, the Lord
deliver it ! "

At this, Mrs. Hayes fell to entreating more loudly than
ever : and as there was really no charge against him, Mr.
Ballance was constrained to let him go.

The landlord and his friends were making off, rather
confused, when Ensign Macshane called upon the latter in
a thundering voice to stop, and refund the five guineas
which he had stolen from him. Again the host swore
there were but fifteen in his pocket. But when, on the
Bible, the ensign solemnly vowed that he had twenty, and
called upon Mrs. Hayes whether yesterday, half an hour
before he entered the inn, she had not seen him with twenty
guineas, and that lady expressed herself ready to swear that
she had, Mr. Landlord looked more crestfallen than ever,
and said that he had not counted the money when he took

CATHERINE: A 8TORY. 99

it; and though he did in his soul believe that there were
only fifteen guineas, rather than be suspected of a shabby
action, he would pay the five guineas out of his own pocket;
which he did, and with the ensign's, or rather Mrs.
Hayes's, own coin.

As soon as they were out of the justice's house, Mr.
Macshane, in the fulness of his gratitude, could not help
bestowing an embrace upon Mrs. Hayes. And when she
implored him to let her ride behind him to her darling son,
he yielded with a very good grace, and off the pair set on
John Hayes's grey.

# .# * * *

"Who has Nosey brought with him now?" said Mr.
Sicklop, Brock's one-eyed confederate, who, about three
hours after the above adventure, was lolling in the yard of
the Three Books. It was our ensign, with the mother of
his captive : they had not met with any accident in their
ride.

"I shall now have the shooprame bliss," said Mr. Mac-
shane, with much feeling, as he lifted Mrs. Hayes from
the saddle, "the shooprame bliss of intwining two harrta
that are mead for one another. Ours, my dear, is a dismal
profession; but, ah! don't moments like this make aminds
for years of pain? This way, my dear : turn to your right
then to your left — mind the stip — and the third door round
the corner."

All these precautions were attended to; and after giving
his concerted knock, Mr. Macshane was admitted into an
apartment, which he entered holding his gold pieces in the
one hand, and a lady by the other.

We shall not describe the meeting which took place be-
tween mother and son. The old lady wept copiously; the
young man was really glad to see his relative, for he
deemed that his troubles were over; Mrs. Cat bit her lips,
and stood aside, looking somewhat foolish; Mr. Brock
counted the money; and Mr. Macshane took a large dose
of strong waters, as a pleasing solace for his labours, dan-
gers, and fatigue.

100 CATHERINE: A STORY.

When the maternal feelings were somewhat calmed, the
old lady had leisure to look about her, and really felt a
kind of friendship and good-will for the company of
thieves in which she found herself. It seemed to her that
they had conferred an actual favour on her, in robbing her
of twenty guineas, threatening her son's life, and finally
letting him go.

" Who is that droll old gentleman? " said she; and being
told that it was Captain Wood, she dropped him a curtsey,
and said, with much respect, " Captain, your very humble
servant; " which compliment Mr. Brock acknowledged by
a gracious smile and bow. " And who is this pretty young
lady? " continued Mrs. Hayes.

" Why — hum — oh — mother, you must give her your
blessing — she is Mrs. John Hayes." And herewith Mr.
Hayes brought forward his interesting lady, to introduce
her to his mamma.

The news did not at all please the old lady, who received
Mrs. Catherine's embrace with a very sour face indeed.
However, the mischief was done; and she was too glad to
get back her son to be, on such an occasion, very angry
with him. So, after a proper rebuke, she told Mrs. John
Hayes, that though she never approved of her son's attach-
ment, and thought he married below his condition, yet as
the evil was done, it was their duty to make the best of it;
and she, for her part, would receive her into her house,
and make her as comfortable there as she could.

" I wonder whether she has any more money in that
house? " whispered Mr. Sicklop to Mr. Redcap, who with
the landlady had come to the door of the room, and had
been amusing themselves by the contemplation of this sen-
timental scene.

" What a fool that wild Hirishman was not to bleed her
for more," said the landlady; "but he's a poor ignorant
Papist. I'm sure my man " (this gentleman had been
hanged) " wouldn't have come away with such a beggarly
sum."

" Suppose we have some more out of 'em? " said Mr.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 101

Redcap. " What prevents us? We have got the old mare,
and the colt too, — ha! ha! and the pair of 'em ought to
be worth at least a hundred to us."

This conversation was carried on sotto voce ; and I don't
know whether Mr. Brock had any notion of the plot which
was arranged by the three worthies. The landlady began
it. "Which punch, madam, will you take? "says she;
<; you must have something for the good of the house, now
you are in it."

"In coorse," said the ensign.

"Certainly," said the other three; but the old lady said
she was anxious to leave the place; and, putting down a
crown-piece, requested the hostess to treat the gentlemen
in her absence. "Good-bye, captain," said the old lady.

" Ajew ! " cried the ensign, " and long life to you, my
dear; you got me out of a scrape at the justice's yonder:
and, split me but Insign Macshane will rimimber it as long
as he lives." And now Hayes and the two ladies made
for the door; but the landlady placed herself against it,
and Mr. Sicklop said, "No, no, my pretty madams, you
aint a-going off so cheap as that neither; you are not going
out for a beggarly twenty guineas, look you, — we must
have more."

Mr. Hayes, starting back, and cursing his fate, fairly
burst into tears; the two women screamed; and Mr. Brock
looked as if the proposition both amused and had been ex-
pected by him; but not so Ensign Macshane.

" Major! " said he, clawing fiercely hold of Brock's arms.

"Ensign," said Mr. Brock, smiling.

" Arr we, or arr we not, men of honour? "

"Oh, in coorse," said Brock, laughing, and using Mac-
shane's favourite expression.

" If we arr men of honour, we are bound to stick to our
word; and, hark-ye, you dirty one-eyed scoundrel, if you
don't immadiately make way for these leedies, and this
lily-livered young jontleman who's crying so, the meejor
here and I will lug out, and force you; " and so saying, he
drew his great sword, and made a pass at Mr. Sicklop,

102 CATHERINE: A STORY.

which that gentleman avoided, and which caused him and
his companion to retreat from the door. The landlady still
kept her position at it, and with a storm of oaths against
the ensign, and against two Englishmen who ran away from
a wild Hirishman, swore she would not budge a foot, and
would stand there until her dying day.

"Faith, then, needs must," said the ensign, and made a
lunge at the hostess, which passed so near the wretch's
throat, that she screamed, sank on her knees, and at last
opened the door.

Down the stairs, then, with great state, Mr. Macshane
led the elder lady, the married couple following; and hav-
ing seen them to the street, took an affectionate farewell of
the party, whom he vowed that he would come and see.
" You can walk the eighteen miles aisy, between this and
nightfall," said he.

" Walk!" exclaimed Mrs. Hayes; "why, haven't we got
Ball, and shall ride and tie all the way? "

" Madam ! " cried Macshane, in a stern voice, " honour
before everything. Did you not, in the presence of his
worship, vow and declare that you gave me that horse, and
now d'ye talk of taking it back again? Let me tell you,
madam, that such palthry thricks ill become a person of
your years and respectability, and ought never to be played
with Insign Timothy Macshane."

He waved his hat, and strutted down the street; and
Mrs. Catherine Hayes, along with her bridegroom and
mother-in-law, made the best of their way homeward on
foot.

CATHERINE: A STORY.

103

CHAPTER VII.

WHICH EMBRACES A PERIOD OF SEVEN YEARS:

THE recovery of so considerable a portion of his property
from the clutches of Brock, was, as may be imagined, no
trilling source of joy to that excellent young man, Count
Gustavus Adolphus de Galgenstein; and he was often
known to say, with much archness, and a proper feeling
of gratitude to the Fate which had ordained things so, that
the robbery was, in reality, one of the best things that
could have happened to him,— for, in event of Mr. Brock's
not stealing the money, his excellency the count would
have had to pay the whole to the Warwickshire squire,
who had won it from him at play. He was enabled, in the
present instance, to plead his notorious poverty as an ex-
cuse; and the Warwickshire conqueror got off with nothing,
except a very badly written autograph of the count's, sim-
ply acknowledging the debt.

This point his excellency conceded with the greatest
candour, but (as, doubtless, the reader may have remarked
in the course of his experience) to owe is not quite the
same thing as to pay; and from the day of his winning the
money until the day of his death, the Warwickshire squire
did never, by any chance, touch a single bob, tizzy, tester,
moidore, maravedi, doubloon, tomann, or rupee, of the
sum which Monsieur de Galgenstein had lost to him.

That young nobleman was, as Mr. Brock hinted in the
little autobiographical sketch which we gave in the last
number of this Magazine, incarcerated for a certain period,
and for certain other debts, in the donjons of Warwick; but
he released himself from them, by that noble and consola-
tory remedy of white-washing, which the law has provided
for gentlemen in his oppressed condition ; and he had not
been a week in London, when he fell in with, and overcame,

104 CATHERINE: A STORY.

or put to flight, Captain Wood, alias Brock, and imme-
diately seized upon the remainder of his property. After
receiving this, the count, with commendable discretion, dis-
appeared from England altogether for a while ; nor are we
at all authorised to state that any of his debts to his trades-
men were discharged, any more than his debts of honour, as
they are pleasantly called.

Having thus settled with his creditors, the gallant count
had interest enough with some of the great folk to procure
for himself a post abroad, and was absent in Holland for
some time. It was here that he became acquainted with
the lovely Madam Silverkoop, the widow of a deceased
gentleman of Leyden ; and although the lady was not at
that age at which tender passions are usually inspired —
being sixty — and though she could not, like Mademoiselle
Ninon de PEnclos, then at Paris, boast of charms which
defied the progress of time, — for Mrs. Silverkoop was as
red as a boiled lobster, and as unwieldy as a porpoise ; and
although her mental attractions did by no means make up
for her personal deficiencies, — for she was jealous, violent,
vulgar, drunken, and stingy to a miracle ; yet her charms
had an immediate effect on Monsieur de Galgenstein ; and
hence, perhaps, the reader (the rogue ! how well he knows
the world !) will be led to conclude that the honest widow
was rich.

Such, indeed, she was; and Count Gustavus, despising
the difference between his twenty quarterings and her
twenty thousand pounds, laid the most desperate siege, and
finished, by causing her to capitulate, — as I do believe,
after a reasonable degree of pressing, any woman will do to
any man; such, at least, has been my experience in the
matter.

The count then married ; and it was curious to see how
he, who, as we have seen in the case of Mrs. Cat, had been
as great a tiger and domestic bully as any extant, now, by
degrees, fell into a quiet submission towards his enormous
countess, who ordered him up and down as a lady orders
her footman, who permitted him speedily not to have a

CATHERINE: A STORY.

105

will of his own, and who did not allow him a shilling of
her money, without receiving for the same an accurate
account.

How was it that he, the abject slave of Madam Silver-
koop, had been victorious over Mrs. Cat? The first blow
is, I believe, the decisive one in these cases, and the
countess had stricken it a week after their marriage, estab-
lishing a supremacy which the count never afterwards at-
tempted to question.

We have alluded to his excellency's marriage, as in duty
bound, because it will be necessary to account for his ap-
pearance hereafter in a more splendid fashion than that
under which he has hitherto been known to us ; and just
comforting the reader by the knowledge, that the union,
though prosperous in a worldly point of view, was, in real-
ity, extremely unhappy, we must say no more from this
time forth of the fat and legitimate Madame de Galgen-
stein. Our darling is Mrs. Catherine, who had formerly
acted in her stead ; and only in so much as the fat countess
did influence in any way the destinies of our heroine, or
those wise and virtuous persons who have appeared, and
are to follow her to her end, shall we in any degree allow
her name to figure here. It is an awful thing to get a
•glimpse, as one sometimes does, when the time is past, of
some little, little wheel which works the whole mighty ma-
chinery of FATE, and see how our destinies turn on a min-
ute's delay or advance, or on the turning of a street, or
on somebody else turning of a street, or on somebody else's
doing of something else in Downing Street or in Timbuctoo,
now or a thousand years ago : thus, for instance, if Miss
Foots, in the year 1695, had never been the lovely inmate
of a spiel-haus, at Amsterdam, Mr. Van Silverkoop would
never have seen her; if the day had not been extraordi-
narily hot, the worthy merchant would never have gone
thither ; if he had not been fond of Rhenish wine and sugar,
he never would have called for any such delicacies ; if he
had not called for them, Miss Ottilia Foots would never
itave brought them, and partaken of them; if he had not

106 CATHERINE: A STORY.

i

been rich, she would certainly have rejected all the ad-
vances made to her by Silverkoop ; if he had not been so
fond of Rhenish and sugar, he never would have died;
and Mrs. Silverkoop would have been neither rich, nor
a widow, nor a wife to Count von Galgenstein; nay, nor
would this history have ever been written ; for if Count
Galgenstein had not married the rich widow, Mrs. Catherine
would never have

Oh, my dear madam ! you thought we were going to tell
you. Pooh ! nonsense, no such thing ; not for two or three
and forty or fifty numbers, or so. We know when we have
got a good thing as well as our neighbours; and Oliver
Yorke says this tale is to continue until the year 44, when,
perhaps, you may know what Mrs. Catherine never would
have done.

The reader will remember, in the second part of these
Memoirs, the announcement that Mrs. Catherine had given
to the world a child, who might bear, if he chose, the arms
of Galgenstein, with the further adornment of a bar-sinis-
ter. This child had been put out to nurse some time before
its mother's elopement with the count; and as that noble-
man was in funds at the time (having had that success at
play which we duly chronicled), he paid a sum of no less
than twenty guineas, which was to be the yearly reward of
the nurse into whose charge the boy was put. The woman
grew fond of the brat ; and when, after the first year, she
had no further news or remittances from father or mother,
she determined, for a while at least, to maintain the infant
at her own expense ; for, when rebuked by her neighbours
on this score, she stoutly swore that no parents could ever
desert their children, and that some day or other she should
not fail to be rewarded for her trouble with this one.

Under this strange mental hallucination poor Goody
Billings, who had five children and a husband of her own,
continued to give food and shelter to little Tom for a period
of no less than seven years ; and though it must be acknowl-
edged that the young gentleman did not in the slightest
degree merit the kindnesses shown to him, Goody Billings,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 107

who was of a very soft and pliable disposition, continued
to bestow them upon him, because, she said, he was lonely
and unprotected, and deserved them more than other chil-
dren who had fathers and mothers to look after them. If,
then, any difference was made between Tom's treatment
and that of her own brood, it was considerably in favour
of the former, to whom the largest proportions of treacle
were allotted for his bread, and the handsomest supplies of
hasty pudding. Besides, to do Mrs. Billings justice, there
was a party against him, and that consisted not only of her
husband and her five children, but of every single person
in the neighbourhood who had an opportunity of seeing
and becoming acquainted with Master Tom.

A celebrated philosopher, I think Miss Edgeworth, has
broached the consolatory doctrine, that in intellect and
disposition all human beings are entirely equal, and that
circumstance and education are the causes of the distinc-
tions and divisions which afterwards unhappily take place
among them. Not to argue this question, which places
Jack Howard and Jack Thurteil on an exact level, — which
would have us to believe that Lord Melbourne is by natu-
ral gifts and excellences a man as honest, brave, and far-
sighted as the Duke of Wellington, — which would make
out that Lord Lyndhurst is, in point of principle, eloquence,
and political honesty, no better than Mr. O'Connell, — not,
I say, arguing this doctrine, let us simply state that Master
Thomas Billings (for, having no other, he took the name
of the worthy people who adopted him) was in his long-
coats fearfully passionate, screaming and roaring perpetu-
ally, and showing all the ill that he could show. At the
age of two, when his strength enabled him to toddle abroad,
his favourite resort was the coal-hole, or the dung-heap :
his roarings had not diminished in the least, and he had
added to his former virtues two new ones, — a love of fight-
ing and stealing, both which amiable qualities he had many
opportunities of exercising every day. He fought his little
adoptive brothers and sisters; he kicked and cuffed his
father and mother ; he fought the cat, stamped upon the

108 CATHERINE: A STORY.

kittens, was worsted in a severe battle with the hen in the
backyard; but, in revenge, nearly beat a little sucking-pig
to death, 'whom he caught alone, and rambling near his
favourite haunt, the dunghill. As for stealing, he stole
the eggs, which he perforated and emptied; the butter,
which he ate with or without bread, as he could find it ;
the sugar, which he cunningly secreted in the leaves of a
Baker's Chronicle, that nobody in the establishment could
read ; and thus from the pages of history he used to suck
in all he knew — thieving and lying, namely, in which for
his years he made wonderful progress. If any followers
of Miss Edgeworth and the philosophers are inclined to
disbelieve this statement, or to set it down as overcharged
and distorted, let them be assured that just this very pic-
ture was, of all pictures in the world, taken from nature.
I, Ikey Solomons, once had a dear little brother who could
steal before he could walk (and this not from encourage-
ment,— for,. if you know the world, you must know that in
families of our profession the point of honour is sacred at
home, — but from pure nature) — who could steal, I say,
before he could walk (and lie before he could speak; and
who, at four and a-half years of age, having attacked my
sister Rebecca on some question of lollypops, and smitten
her on the . elbow with a fire-shovel, apologised to us, by

saying, simply, " her, I wish it had been her head! "

Dear, dear Aminadab! I think of you, and laugh these
philosophers to scorn. Nature made you for that career
which you fulfilled; you were from your birth to your
dying a scoundrel; you couldn't have been anything else,
however your lot was cast; and blessed it was that you
were born among the prigs, for had you been of any other
•profession, alas ! alas ! what ills might you have done ! As
I have heard the author of "Richelieu," "Natural Odes,"
" Siamese Twins," etc., say, " Poeta nascitur non fit," which
means, that though he had tried ever so much to be a poet,
it was all moonshine ; in the like manner, I say, " Roagus
nascitur non fit. " We have it from nature, and so a fig
for Miss Edgeworth.

CATHERINE: A STORY.

109

In this manner, then, while his father, blessed with a
wealthy wife, was leading, in a fine house, the life of a
galley-slave ; while his mother, married to Mr. Hayes, and
made an honest woman of, as the saying is, was passing her
time respectably in Warwickshire, Mr. Thomas Billings
was inhabiting the same county, not cared for by either of
them ; but ordained by Fate to join them one day, and have
a mighty influence upon the fortunes of both. For, as it
has often happened to the traveller in the York or the
Exeter coach to fall snugly asleep in his corner, and on
awaking suddenly to find himself sixty or seventy miles
from the place where Somnus first visited him ; as, we say,
although you sit still, Time, poor wretch, keeps perpetu-
ally running on, and so must run day and night, with never
a pause or a halt of five minutes to get a drink, until his
dying day, let the reader imagine that, since he left Mrs.
Hayes, and all the other worthy personages of this history,
in the July number of this Magazine, seven years have
sped away in the interval ; during which, all our heroes
and heroines have been accomplishing their destinies.

Seven years of country carpentering, or other trading,
on the part of a husband, of ceaseless scolding, violence,
and discontent, on the part of a wife, are not pleasant to
describe, so we shall omit altogether any account of the
early married life of Mr. and Mrs. John Hayes. The
" Newgate Calendar " (to which excellent compilation we
and the other popular novelists of the day can never be
sufficiently grateful) states that Hayes left his house three
or four times during this period, and, urged by the restless
humours of his wife, tried several professions ; returning,
however, as he grew weary of each, to his wife and his
paternal home. After a certain time his parents died, and
by their demise he succeeded to a small property, and the
carpentering business, which he for some time followed.

What, then, in the meanwhile, had become of Captain
Wood, or Brock, and Ensign Macshane? the only persons
now to be accounted for in our catalogue. For about six
months after their capture and release of Mr. Hayes, those

110 CATHERINE : A STORY.

noble gentlemen had followed, with much prudence and
success, that trade which the celebrated and polite Duval,
the ingenious Sheppard, the dauntless Turpin, and, indeed,
many other heroes of our most popular novels, had pursued,
or were pursuing, in their time. And so considerable were
said to be Captain Wood's gains, that reports were abroad
of his having somewhere a buried treasure; to which he
might have added more, had not Fate suddenly cut short
his career as a prig. He and the Ensign were — shame to
say — transported for stealing three pewter pots off a rail-
ing at Exeter; and not being known in the town, which
they had only reached that morning, they were detained by
no further charges, but simply condemned on this one.
For this misdemeanour, her Majesty's Government vindic-
tively sent them for seven years beyond the sea; and, as
the fashion then was, sold the use of their bodies to Vir-
ginian planters during that space of time. It is thus, alas !
that the strong are always used to deal with the weak, and
many an honest fellow has been led to rue his unfortunate
difference with the law.

Thus, then, we have settled all scores. The count is in
Holland with his wife ; Mrs. Cat, in Warwickshire, along
with her excellent husband ; Master Thomas Billings, with
his adoptive parents, in the same county; and the two
military gentlemen watching the progress and cultivation
of the tobacco and cotton plant in the New World. All
these things having passed between the acts, dingaring-a-
dingaring-a-dingledingle-'ding, the drop draws up, and the
next act begins. By the way, the play ends with a drop ;
but that is neither here nor there.

##-.###

[Here, as in a theatre, the orchestra is supposed to play something
melodious. The people get up, shake themselves, yawn, and
settle down in their seats again. " Porter, ale, ginger-beer, cider, "
comes round, squeezing through the legs of the gentlemen in
the pit. Nobody takes anything, as usual ; and, lo ! the curtain
rises again. " 'Sh, 'shsh, 'shshshhh ! Hats off ! " says everybody. ]
*. * * * *

Mrs. Hayes had now been for six years the adored wife

CATHERINE: A STORY.

Ill

of Mr. Hayes, and no offspring had arisen to bless their
loves and perpetuate their name. She had obtained a com-
plete mastery over her lord and master ; and having had,
as far as was in that gentleman's power, every single wish
gratified that she could demand, in the way of dress, treats
to Coventry and Birmingham, drink, and what not — for,
though a hard man, John Hayes had learned to spend his
money pretty freely on himself and her — having had all
her wishes gratified, it was natural that she should begin
to find out some more ; and the next whim she hit upon
was to be restored to her child. It may be as well to state,
that she had never informed her husband of the existence
of that phenomenon, although he was aware of his wife's
former connection with the count, — Mrs. Hayes, in their
matrimonial quarrels, invariably taunting him with accounts
of her former splendour and happiness, and with his own
meanness of taste in condescending to take up with his ex-
cellency's leavings.

She determined, then (but as yet had not confided her
determination to her husband), she would have her boy,
although in her seven years' residence within twenty miles
of him she had never once thought of seeing him; and
the kind reader knows that when his excellent lady deter-
mines on a thing — a shawl, or an opera-box, or a new car-
riage, or twenty- four singing lessons from Tamburini, or a
night at the Eagle Tavern, City Road, or a ride in a 'bus
to Richmond, and tea and brandy-and- water at Rose Cot-
tage Hotel — the reader, high or low, knows that when Mrs.
Reader desires a thing, have it she will ; you may just as
well talk of avoiding her as of avoiding gout, biles, or grey
hairs — and that you know is impossible. I, for my part,
have had all three — ay, and a wife too. But away with
egotism and talk of one's own sorrows ; my Lord Byron,
and my friend the member for Lincoln, have drained such
subjects dry.

I say that when a woman is resolved on a thing, happen
it will — if husbands refuse, Fate will interfere (flectere si
nequeo, etc. ; but quotations are odious). And some hid-

112 CATHERINE: A STORY.

den power was working in the case of Mrs. Hayes, and, for
its own awful purposes, lending her its aid.

Who has not felt how he works, the dreadful, conquer-
ing Spirit of 111? Who cannot see, in the circle of his own
society, the fated and foredoomed to woe and evil? Some
call the doctrine of destiny a dark creed ; but, for me, I
would fain try and think it a consolatory one. It is better,
with all one's sins upon one's head, to deem oneself in the
hands of Fate than to think, with our fierce passions and
weak repentances, with our resolves so loud, so vain, so
ludicrously, despicably weak and frail, with our dim, wav-
ering, wretched conceits about virtue, and our irresistible
propensity to wrong, that we are the workers of our future
sorrow or happiness. If we depend on our strength, what
is it against mighty circumstance? If we look to our-
selves, what hope have we? Look back at the whole of
your life, and see how Fate has mastered you and it.
Think of your disappointments and your successes. Has
your striving influenced one or the other? A fit of indi-
gestion puts itself between you and honours and reputa-
tion ; an apple plops on your nose, and makes you a world's
wonder and glory ; a fit of poverty makes a rascal of you,
who were, and are still, an honest man ; clubs, trumps, or
six lucky mains at dice, make an honest man for life of
you, who ever were, will be, and are a rascal. Who sends
the illness? who causes the apple to fall? who deprives
you of your worldly goods? or who shuffles the cards, and
brings trumps, honour, virtue, and prosperity back again?
You call it chance ; ay, and so it is chance, that when the
floor gives way, and the rope stretches tight, the poor
wretch before St. Sepulchre's clock dies. Only with us,
clear-sighted mortals as we are, we can't see the rope by
which we hang, and know not when or how the drop may
fall.

But, revenons a nos moutons, let us return to that sweet
lamb, Master Thomas, and the milk-white ewe, Mrs. Cat.
Seven years had passed away, and she began to think that
she should very much like to see her child once more. It

CATHERINE: A STORY. 113

was written that she should ; and you shall hear how, soon
after, without any great exertions of hers, back he carne to
her.

In the month of July, in the year 1715, there caine down
a road, about ten miles from the city of Worcester, two
gentlemen, not mounted, Templar-like, upon one horse,
but having a horse between them — a sorry bay, with a sorry
saddle, and a large pack behind it; on which each by turn
took a ride. Of the two, one was a man of excessive
stature, with red hair, a very prominent nose, and a faded
military dress j while the other, an old weather-beaten,
sober-looking personage, wore the costume of a civilian —
both man and dress appealing to have reached the autumnal,
or seedy state. However, the pair seemed, in spite of their
apparent poverty, to be passably merry. The old gentle-
man rode the horse ; and had, in the course of their journey,
ridden him two miles at least in every three. The tall
one walked with immense strides by his side ; and seemed,
indeed, as if he could have quickly outstripped the four-
footed animal, had he chosen to exert his speed, or had not
affection for his comrade retained him at his stirrup.

A short time previously the horse had cast a shoe ; and
this the tall man on foot had gathered up, and was holding
in his hand, it having been voted that the first blacksmith
to whose shop they should come should be called upon to
fit it again upon the bay horse.

" Do you remimber this counthry, meejor? " said the tall
man, who was looking about him very much pleased, and
sucking a flower. "I think thim green cornfields is pret-
tier looking at than the d tobacky out yondther, and

bad luck to it!"

" I recollect the place right well, and some queer pranks
we played here seven years agone," responded the gentle-
man addressed as major. " You remember that man and
his wife, whom we took in pawn at the Three Crows? "

"And the landlady only hung last Michaelmas?" said
the tall man, parenthetically.

"Hang the landlady! we've got all we ever would out

114 CATHERINE: A STORY.

of her, you know. But about the man and woman. You
went after the chap's mother, and, like a jackass, as you
are, let him loose. Well, the woman was that Catherine
that you've often heard me talk about. I like the wench,

her, for I almost brought her up ; and she was for a

year or two along with that scoundrel Galgenstein, who has
been the cause of my ruin."

" The inf errrnal blackguard and ruffian ! " said the tall
man, who, with his companion, has no doubt been recog-
nised by the reader.

" Well, this Catherine had a child by Galgenstein ; and
somewhere here hard by the woman lived to whom we car-
ried the brat to nurse. She was the wife of a blacksmith,
one Billings: it won't be out of the way to get our horse
shod at his house, if he is alive still, and we may learn
something about the little beast. I should be glad to see
the mother well enough."

" Do I remimber her? " said the ensign ; " do I remimber
whisky? Sure I do, and the snivelling sneak her husband,
and the stout old lady her mother-in-law, and the dirty
one-eyed ruffian who sold me the parson's hat, that had so
nearly brought me into trouble. Oh, but it was a rare rise
we got out of them chaps, and the old landlady that's
hanged too ! " And here both Ensign Macshane and Major
Brock, or Wood, grinned, and showed much satisfaction.

It will be necessary to explain the reason of it. We gave
the British public to understand, that the landlady of the
Three Books, at Worcester, was a notorious fence, or banker
of thieves ; that is, a purchaser of their merchandise. In
her hands Mr. Brock and his companion had left property
to the amount of sixty or seventy pounds, which was
secreted in a cunning recess in a chamber of the Three
Rooks, known only to the landlady and the gentleman who
banked with her ; and in this place, Mr. Cyclop, the one-
eyed man who had joined in the Hayes adventure, his com-
rade, and one or two of the topping prigs of the county,
were free. Mr. Cyclop had been shot dead in a night
attack near Bath ; the landlady had been suddenly hanged,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 115

as an accomplice in another case of robbery; and when, on
their return from Virginia, our two heroes, whose hopes
of livelihood depended upon it, had bent their steps tow-
ards Worcester, they were not a little frightened to hear
of the cruel fate of the hostess and many of the ami-
able frequenters of the Three Rooks. All the goodly
company were separated; the house was no longer an inn.
Was the money gone too? At least it was worth while
to look — which Messrs. Brock and Macshane determined
to do.

The house being now a private one, Mr, Brock, with a
genius that was above his station, visited its owner, with
a huge portfolio under his arm, and, in the character of a
painter, requested permission to take a particular sketch
from a particular window . The ensign followed with the
artist's materials (consisting simply of a screwdriver and a
crowbar) ; and it is hardly necessary to say that, when
admission was granted to them, they opened the well-
known door, and to their inexpressible satisfaction discov-
ered, not their own peculiar savings exactly, for these had
been appropriated instantly on hearing of their transporta-
tion, but stores of money and goods to the amount of near
three hundred pounds ; to which Mr. Macshane said they
had as just and honourable right as anybody else. And so
they had as just a right as anybody — except the original
owners; but who was to discover them?

With this booty they set out on their journey — any-
where, for they knew not whither ; and it so chanced that
when their horse's shoe came off, they were within a few
furlongs of the cottage of Mr. Billings the blacksmith. As
they came near, they were saluted by tremendous roars
issuing from the smithy. A small boy was held across the
bellows, two or three children of smaller and larger growth
were holding him down, and many others of the village
were gazing in at the window, while a man, half-naked,
was lashing the little boy with a whip, and occasioning the
cries heard by the travellers. As the horse drew up, the
operator looked at the new-comers for a moment, and then

116 CATHERINE: A STORY.

proceeded incontinently with his work, belabouring the
child more fiercely than ever.

When he had done, he turned round to the new-comers
and asked, how he could serve them? whereupon Mr.
Wood (for such was the name he adopted, and by such we
shall call him to the end) wittily remarked that however
he might wish to serve them, he seemed mightily inclined
to serve that young gentleman first.

"It's no joking matter," said the blacksmith; "if I
don't serve him so now, he'll be worse off in his old age.
He'll come to the gallows, as sure as his name is Bill.
Never mind what his name is." And so saying, or soi
disanty as Bulwer says, he gave the urchin another cut,
which elicited, of course, another scream.

" Oh ! his name is Bill? " said Captain Wood.

"His name's not Bill! "said the blacksmith, sulkily.
" He's no name, and no heart, neither. My wife took the
brat in, seven years ago, from a beggarly French chap to
nurse, and she kept him, for she was a good soul " (here
his eyes began to wink), "and she's — she's gone now"

(here he began fairly to blubber) ; " and, d him, out

of love for her, I kept him too, and the scoundrel is a liar
and a thief; and this blessed day, merely to vex me and
my boys here, he spoke ill of her, he did, and I'll — cut —

his — ( ) life — out — I — will ! " and with each word

honest Mulciber applied a whack on the body of little Tom
Billings, who, by shrill shrieks, and oaths in treble,
acknowledged the receipt of the blows.

" Come, come," said Mr. Wood, " set the boy down, and
the bellows a-going; my horse wants shoeing, and the poor
lad has had strapping enough."

The blacksmith obeyed, and cast poor Master Thomas
loose; as he staggered away and looked back at his tor-
mentor, his countenance assumed an expression, which
made Mr. Wood say, grasping hold of Macshane's arm,
"It's the boy, it's the boy! when his mother gave Gal-
genstein the laudanum, she had the self -same look with
her!"

CATHERINE: A STORY. 117

"Had she really now? " said Mr. Macshane; "and pree,
meejor, who was his mother? "

" Mrs. Cat, you fool ! " answered Wood.

" Then, upon my secred word of honour, she's a mighty
fine kitten anyhow, my dear, aha ! "

" They don't droivn such kittens," said Mr. Wood, archly;
and Macshane, taking the allusion, clapped his finger to
his nose in token of perfect approbation of his commander's
sentiment.

While the blacksmith was shoeing the horse, Mr. Wood
asked him many questions concerning the lad whom he had
just been chastising, and succeeded, beyond a doubt, in
establishing his identity with the child whom Catherine
Hall had brought into the world seven years since. Bil-
lings told him of all the virtues of his wife, and the mani-
fold crimes of the lad; how he stole, and fought, and lied,
and swore; and though the youngest under his roof, exer-
cised the most baneful influence over all the rest of his
family. He was determined at last, he said, to put him to
the parish, for he did not dare to keep him.

"He's a fine whelp, and would fetch ten pieces in Vir-
ginny," sighed the ensign.

"Crimp, of Bristol, would give five for him," said Mr.
Wood, ruminating.

" Why not take him? " said the ensign.

"Faith, why not?" said Mr. Wood. "His keep, mean-
while, will not be sixpence a day." Then turning round
to the carpenter, "Mr. Billings," said he, "you will be
surprised, perhaps, to hear that I know everything regard-
ing that poor lad's history. His mother was an unfortu-
nate lady of high family, now no more ; his father a German
nobleman, Count de Galgenstein by name."

" The very man ! " said Billings ; " a young, fair-haired
man, who came here with the child and a dragoon sergeant."

"Count de Galgenstein by name, who, on the point of
death, recommended the infant to me."

" And did he pay you seven years' boarding? " said Mr.
Billings, who was quite alive at the very idea.

118 CATHERINE: A STORY.

"Alas, sir, not a jot! he died, sir, six hundred pounds
in my debt, didn't he, ensign? "

"Six hundred, upon my secred honour! I remember
when he got into the house along with the poli "

"Psha! what matters it?" here broke out Mr. Wood,
looking fiercely at the ensign. " Six hundred pounds he
owes me, how was he to pay you? But he told me to take
charge of this boy, if I found him; and found him I have,
and will take charge of him, if you will hand him over."

" Send our Tom ! " cried Billings ; and when that youth
appeared, scowling, and yet trembling, and prepared, as it
seemed, for another castigation, his father, to his surprise,
asked him if he was willing to go along with those gentle-
men, or whether he would be a good lad and stay with him.

Mr. Tom replied immediately, " I won't be a good lad,
and I'd rather go to than stay with you! "

" Will you leave your brothers and sisters? " said Bil-
lings, looking very dismal.

"Hang my brothers and sisters — I hate 'em; and, be-
sides, I haven't got any ! "

"But you had a good mother, hadn't you, Tom? "

Tom paused for a moment.

"Mother's gone," said he, "and you flog me, and I'll go
with these men."

" Well, then, go thy ways," said Billings, starting up in
a passion ; " go thy ways for a graceless reprobate ; and if
this gentleman will take you, he may so."

After some further parley, the conversation ended, and
the next morning Mr. Wood's party consisted of three, a
little boy being mounted upon the bay horse in addition to
the ensign or himself , and the whole company went journey-
ing towards Bristol.

*****

We have said that Mrs. Hayes had, on a sudden, taken
a fit of maternal affection, and was bent upon being restored
to her child ; and that benign destiny, which watched over
the life of this lucky lady, instantly set about gratifying
her wish ; and, without cost to herself of coach-hire or sad-

CATHERINE'S PRESENT TO MR. HAYES

CATHERINE: A STORY.

119

die-horse, sent the young gentleman very quickly to her
arms. The village in which the Hayeses dwelt was but a
very few miles out of the road from Bristol, whither, on
the benevolent mission above hinted at, our party of wor-
thies were bound ; and coming, towards the afternoon, in
sight of the house of that very Justice Ballance who had
been so nearly the ruin of Ensign Macshane, that officer
narrated, for the hundredth time, and with much glee, the
circumstances which had then befallen him, and the man-
ner in which Mrs. Hayes, the elder, had come forward to
his rescue.

"Suppose we go and see the old girl? " suggested Mr.
Wood; "no harm can come to us now." And his comrade
always assenting, they wound their way towards, and
reached it as the evening came on. In the public-house
where they rested, Wood made inquiries concerning the
Hayes's family, was informed of the death of the old
couple, of the establishment of John Hayes and his wife in
their place, and of the kind of life that these latter led
together. When all these points had been imparted to
him, he ruminated much; an expression of sublime triumph
and exultation at length lighted up his features. " I think,
Tim," said he at last, "that we can make more than five
pieces of that boy."

" Oh, in coorse ! " said Timothy Macshane, Esq. , who
always agreed with his "meejor."

"In coorse, you fool! and how? I'll tell you how.
This Hayes is well-to-do in the world, and —

<f And we'll nab him again — ha, ha! " roared out Mac-
shane. "By my secred honour, meejor, there never was a
gineral like you at a strathyjam ! "

" Peace, you bellowing donkey, and don't wake the child.
The man is well-to-do, his wife rules him, and they have
no children. Now, either she will be very glad to have
the boy back again, and pay for the finding of him; or else
she has said nothing about him, and will pay us for being
silent too; or, at any rate, Hayes himself will be ashamed
at finding his wife the mother of a child a year older than

6 Vol. 13

120 CATHERINE: A STORY.

his marriage, and will pay for the keeping of the brat
away. There's profit> my dear, in any one of the cases,
or my name's not Peter Brock."

When the ensign understood this wondrous argument, , he
would fain have fallen on his knees and worshipped his
friend and guide. They began operations almost imme-
diately, by an attack on Mrs. Hayes. On hearing, as she
did in private interview with the ex-corporal the next
morning, that her son was found, she was agitated by both
of the passions which Wood attributed to her. She longed
to have the boy back, and would give any reasonable sum
to see him; but she dreaded exposure, and would pay
equally to avoid that. How could she gain the one point,
and escape the other?

Mrs. Hayes hit upon an expedient which, I am given to
understand, is not uncommon nowadays. She suddenly dis-
covered that she had a dear brother, who had been obliged
to fly the country in consequence of having joined the
Pretender, and had died in France, leaving behind him an
only son. This boy her brother had, with his last breath,
recommended to her protection, and had confided him to
the charge of a brother-officer who was now in the country,
and would speedily make his appearance ; and, to put the
story beyond a doubt, Mr. Wood wrote the letter from her
brother stating all these particulars, and Ensign Macshane
received full instructions how to perform the part of the
"brother-officer." . What consideration Mr. Wood received
for his services, we cannot say ; only it is well known that
Mr. Hayes caused to be committed to gaol a young appren-
tice in his service, charged with having broken open a cup-
board in which Mr. Hayes had forty guineas in gold and
silver, and to which none but he and his wife had access.

Having made these arrangements, the corporal and his
little party decamped to a short distance, and Mrs. Cathe-
rine was left to prepare her husband for a speedy addition
to his family, in the shape of this darling nephew. John
Hayes received the news with anything but pleasure. He
had never heard of any brother of Catherine7 sj she had

CATHERINE: A STORY. 121

been bred at the workhouse, and nobody ever hinted that
she had relatives : but it is easy for a lady of moderate
genius to invent circumstances ; and with lies, tears, threats,
coaxings, oaths, and other blandishments, she compelled
him to submit.

Two days afterwards, as Mr. Hayes was working in his
shop and his lady seated beside him, the trampling of a
horse was heard in his courtyard, and a gentleman, of
huge stature, descended from it, and strode into the shop.
His figure was wrapped in a large cloak, but Mr. Hayes
could not help fancying that he had somewhere seen his
face before.

"This, I preshoom," said the gentleman, "is Misther
Hayes, that I have come so many miles to see, and this is
his amiable lady? I was the most intimate frind, madam,
of your laminted brother, who died in King Lewis's ser-
vice, and whose last touching letters I despatched to you
two days ago. I have with me a further precious token of
my dear friend, Captain Hall — it is here."

And so saying, the military gentleman, with one arm,
removed his cloak, and stretching forward the other into
Hayes's face almost, stretched likewise forward a little boy,
grinning and sprawling in the air, and prevented only from
falling to the ground by the hold which the ensign kept of
the waistband of his little coat and breeches.

" Isn't he a pretty boy? " said Mrs. Hayes, sidling up to
her husband tenderly, and pressing one of Mr. Hayes's

hands.

* * * * *

About the lad's beauty it is needless to say what the car-
penter thought ; but that night, and for many, many nights
after, the lad stayed at Mr. Hayes's.

122 CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTEK VIII.

ENUMERATES THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF MASTER
THOMAS BILLINGS— INTRODUCES BROCK AS DR.
WOOD-AND ANNOUNCES THE EXECUTION OF EN-
SIGN MACSHANE.

WE are obliged, in recording of this history, to follow
accurately that great authority, the " Calendarium Newga-
ticum Roagorumque Registerium," of which every lover of
literature in the present day knows the value ; and as that
remarkable work totally discards all the unities in its
narratives, and reckons the life of its heroes only by their
actions, and not by periods of time, we must follow in the
wake of this mighty ark — a humble cockboat. When it
pauses, we pause ; when it runs ten knots an hour, we run
with the same celerity ; and as, in order to carry the reader
from the penultimate chapter of this work unto the last
chapter, we were compelled to make him leap over a gap of
five blank years, ten years more must likewise be granted
to us before we are at liberty to resume our history.

During that period, Master Thomas Billings had been
under the especial care of his mother; and, as maybe imag-
ined, he rather increased than diminished the accomplish-
ments for which he had been remarkable while under the
roof of his stepfather. And with this advantage, that while
at the blacksmith's, and only three or four years of age,
his virtues were necessarily appreciated only in his family
circle, and among those few acquaintances of his own time
of life whom a youth of three can be expected to meet in
the alley, or over the gutters, of a small country hamlet,
— in his mother's residence, his circle extended with his
own growth, and he began to give proofs of those powers
of which in infancy there had been only encouraging indi-
cations. Thus it was nowise remarkable, that a child of

CATHERINE: A STORY.

123

four years should not know his letters, and should have
had a great disinclination to learn them ; but when a young
man of fifteen showed the same creditable ignorance, the
same undeviating dislike, it was easy to see that he pos-
sessed much resolution and perseverance. When it was
remarked, too, that, in case of any difference, he not onlj
beat the usher, but by no means disdained to torment and
bully the very smallest boys of the school, it was easy to
sr 9 that his mind was comprehensive and careful, as well
as courageous and grasping. As it was said of the Duke
of Wellington, in the Peninsula, that he had a thought for
everybody — from Lord Hill to the smallest drummer in the
army — in like manner Tom Billings bestowed his attention
on high and low, — but in the shape of blows. He would
fight the strongest and kick the smallest, and was always
at work with one or the other. At thirteen, when he was
removed from the establishment whither he had been sent,
he was the cock of the school out of doors, and the very
last boy in. He used to let the little boys and newcomers
pass him by, and laugh ; but he always belaboured them
unmercifully afterwards ; and then it was, he said, his turn
to laugh. With such a pugnacious turn, Tom Billings
ought to have been made a soldier, and might have died a
marshal; but, by an unlucky ordinance of fate, he was
made a tailor, and died a — — , never mind what for the
present ; suffice it to say, that he was suddenly cut off at a
very early period of his existence, by a disease which has
exercised considerable ravages among the British youth.

By consulting the authority above mentioned, we find
that Hayes did not confine himself to the profession of a
carpenter, or remain long established in the country ; but
was induced, by the eager spirit of Mrs. Catherine most
probably, to try his fortune in the metropolis, where he
lived, flourished, and died. Oxford Road, Saint Giles's,
and Tottenham Court, were, at various periods of his resi-
dence in town, inhabited by him. At one place, he carried
on the business of greengrocer and small coalman; in
another, he was carpenter, undertaker, and lender of money

124 CATHERINE: A STORY.

to the poor : finally, he was a lodging-house keeper in the
Oxford or Tyburn Road ; but continued to exercise the last-
named charitable profession.

Lending as he did upon pledges, and carrying on a pretty
large trade, it was not for him, of course, to inquire into
the pedigree of all the pieces of plate, the bales of cloth,
swords, watches, wigs, shoe-buckles, etc., that were con-
fided by his friends to his keeping ; but it is clear that his
friends had the requisite confidence in him, and that he
enjoyed the esteem of a class of characters who still live
in history, and are admired unto this very day. The mind
loves to think that, perhaps, in Mr. Hayes's back-parlour
the gallant Turpin might have hob-and-nobbed with Mrs.
Catherine; that here, perhaps, the noble Sheppard might
have cracked his joke, or quaffed his pint of rum. Who
knows but that Macheath and Paul Clifford may have
crossed legs under Hayes's dinner-table? and whilst the
former sang (so as to make Mrs. Hayes blush) the prettiest,
wickedest songs in the world; the latter would make old
Hayes yawn, by quotations from Plato, and passionate dis-
sertations on the perfectibility of mankind. Here it was
that that impoverished scholar, Eugene Aram, might have
pawned his books, discounted or given those bills at three
" moons " after date which Sir Edward has rendered immor-
tal. But why pause to speculate on things that might have
been? why desert reality for fond imagination, or call up
from their honoured graves the sacred dead? I know not :
and yet, in sooth, I can never pass Cumberland Gate with-
out a sigh, as I think of the gallant cavaliers who traversed
that road in old time. Pious priests accompanied their
triumphs ; their chariots were surrounded by hosts of glit-
tering javelin-men. As the slave at the car of the Eoman
conqueror shouted, " Remember thou art mortal ! " before
the eyes of the British warrior rode the undertaker and
his coflin, telling him that he too must die ! Mark well the
spot! A hundred years ago, Albion Street (where comic
Power dwells, Milesia's darling son) — Albion Street was a
desert. The square of Connaught was without its penulti-

CATHERINE: A STORY. 125

mate, and, strictly speaking, naught. The Edgeware Road
was then a road, 'tis true ; with tinkling waggons passing
now and then, and fragrant walls of snowy hawthorn blos-
soms. The ploughman whistled over Nutf ord Place ; down
the green solitudes of Sovereign Street the merry milkmaid
led the lowing kine. Here, then, in the midst of green
fields and sweet air — before ever omnibuses were, and
Pineapple Turnpike and Terrace were alike unknown — here
stood Tyburn : and on the road towards it, perhaps to en-
joy the prospect, stood, in the year 1725, the habitation of
Mr. John Hayes.

One fine morning in the year 1725, Mrs. Hayes, who had
been abroad in her best hat and riding-hood ; Mr. Hayes,
who for a wonder had accompanied her ; and Mrs. Springatt,
a lodger, who for a remuneration had the honour of sharing
Mrs. Hayes's friendship and table; all returned, smiling
and rosy, at about half -past ten o'clock, from a walk which
they had taken to Bayswater. Many thousands of people
were likewise seen flocking down the Oxford Road ; and
you would rather have thought, from the smartness of their
appearance, and the pleasure depicted in their counte-
nances, that they were just issuing from a sermon, than
quitting the ceremony which they had been to attend.

The fact is, that they had just been to see a gentleman
hanged, — a cheap pleasure, which the Hayes family never
denied themselves; and they returned home with a good
appetite to breakfast, braced by the walk, and tickled into
hunger, as it were, by the spectacle. I can recollect, when
I was a gyp at Cambridge, that the " men " used to have
breakfast-parties for the very same purpose ; and the ex-
hibition of the morning acted infallibly upon the stomach,
and caused the young students to eat with much voracity.

Well, Mrs. Catherine, a handsome, well-dressed, plump,
rosy woman, of three- or four-and-thirty (and when, my
dear, is a woman handsomer than at that age?) came in
quite merrily from her walk, and entered the back-parlour,
which looked into a pleasant yard, or garden, whereon the
sun was shining very gaily ; and where, at a table covered

CATHERINE: A STORY.

with a nice white cloth, laid out with some silver mugs,
too, and knives, all with different crests and patterns, sat
an old gentleman reading in an old book.

"Here we are at last, doctor," said Mrs. Hayes, "and
here's his speech." She produced the little halfpenny
tract, which to this day is sold at the gallows-foot upon the
death of every offender. "I've seen a many men turned
off, to be sure ; but I never did see one who bore it more
like a man than he did."

"My dear, "said the gentleman addressed as doctor, "he
was as cool and as brave as steel, and no more minded
hanging than tooth- drawing."

" It was the drink that ruined him," said Mrs. Cat.

" Drink, and bad company. I warned him, my dear, — I
warned him years ago: and directly he got into Wild's
gang, I knew that he had not a year to run. Ah, why,
my love, will men continue such dangerous courses," con-
tinued the doctor, with a sigh, " and jeopardy their lives
for a miserable watch or a snuff-box, of which Mr. Wild
takes three-fourths of the produce? But here comes the
breakfast; and, egad, I am as hungry as a lad of twenty."

Indeed, at this moment Mrs. Hayes's servant appeared
with a smoking dish of bacon and greens ; and Mr. Hayes
himself ascended from the cellar (of which he kept the
key) , bearing with him a tolerably large jug of small-beer.
To this repast the doctor, Mrs. Springatt (the other lodger),
and Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, proceeded with great alacrity.
A fifth cover was laid, but not used ; the company remark-
ing that " Tom had very likely found some acquaintances
at Tyburn, with whom he might choose to pass the morn-
ing."

Tom was Master Thomas Billings, now of the age of six-
teen ; slim, smart, five feet ten inches in height, handsome,
sallow in complexion, black-eyed, and black-haired. Mr.
Billings was apprentice to a tailor, of tolerable practice,
who was to take him into partnership at the end of his
term. It was supposed, and with reason, that Tom would
not fail to make a fortune in his business ; of which the

CATHERINE: A STORY.

127

present head was one Beinkleider, a German. Beinkleider
was skilful in his trade (after the manner of his nation,
which in breeches and metaphysics — in inexpressibles and
incomprehensibles — may instruct all Europe), but too fond
of his pleasure. Some promissory-notes of his had found
their way into Hayes's hands, and had given him the means
not only of providing Master Billings with a cheap appren-
ticeship, and a cheap partnership afterwards; but would
empower, in one or two years after the young partner
had joined the firm, to eject the old one altogether. So
that there was every prospect that, when Mr. Billings was
twenty-one years of age, poor Beinkleider would have to
act, not as his master, but his journeyman.

Tom was a very precocious youth, was supplied by a
doting mother with plenty of pocket-money, and spent it
with a number of lively companions of both sexes, at plays,
bull-baitings, fairs, jolly parties on the river, and in such-
like innocent amusements. He could throw a main, too,
as well as his elders; had pinked his man, in a row at
Madam King's, in the Piazza ; and was much respected at
the Roundhouse.

Mr. Hayes was not very fond of this promising young
gentleman ; indeed, he had .the baseness to bear malice, be-
cause, in a quarrel which occurred about two years previ-
ously, he, Hayes, being desirous to chastise Mr. Billings,
had found himself not only quite incompetent, but actually
at the mercy of the boy, who struck him over the head with
a joint-stool, felled him to the ground, and swore he would
have his life. The doctor, who was then also a lodger at
Mr. Hayes's, interposed, and restored the combatants, not
to friendship, but to peace. Hayes never afterwards at-
tempted to lift his hand to the young man, but .contented
himself with hating him profoundly. In this sentiment
Mr. Billings participated cordially, and, quite unlike Mr.
Hayes, who never dared to show his dislike, used on every
occasion when they met, by actions, looks, words, sneers,
and curses, to let his father-in-law jknow the opinion which
he had of him. Why did not Hayes discard the boy alto-

128 CATHERINE: A STORY.

gether? Because, if he did so, he was really afraid of his
life, and because he trembled before Mrs. Hayes, his lady,
as the leaf trembles before the tempest in October. His
breath was not his own, but hers; his money, too, had
been chiefly of her getting, — for though he was as stingy
and mean as mortal man can be, and so likely to save much,
he had not the genius for getting which Mrs. Hayes pos-
sessed. She kept his books (for she had learned to read
and write by this time), she made his bargains, and she
directed the operations of the poor-spirited little capitalist.
When bills became due, and creditors pressed for time, then
she brought Hayes's own professional merits into play.
The man was as deaf and cold as a rock ; never did poor
tradesman gain a penny from him ; never were the bailiffs
delayed one single minute from their prey. The Bein-
kleider business, for instance, showed pretty well the genius
of the two. Hayes was for closing with him at once ; but
his wife saw the vast profits which might be drawn out of
him, and arranged the apprenticeship and the partnership
before alluded to. The woman heartily scorned and spit
upon her husband, who fawned upon her like a spaniel.
She loved good cheer ; she did not want for a certain kind
of generosity. The only feeling that Hayes had for any
one except himself was for his wife, whom he held in a
cowardly awe and attachment : he liked drink, too, which
made him chirping and merry, and accepted willingly any
treats that his acquaintances might offer him ; but he would
suffer agonies when his wife brought or ordered from the
cellar a bottle of wine.

And now for the doctor. He was nearly seventy years
of age. He had been much abroad ; he was of a sober,
cheerful aspect ; he dressed handsomely and quietly in a
broad hat and cassock ; but saw no company except the
few friends whom he met at the coffee-house. He had an
income of about a hundred pounds, which he promised to
leave to young Billings. He was amused with the lad, and
fond of his mother, and had boarded with them for some
years past. The doctor, in fact, was our old friend Coit

CATHERINE: A STORY. 129

poral Brock ; the Rev. Dr. Wood now, as he had been Major
Wood fifteen years back.

Any one who has read the former part of this history
must have seen that we have spoken throughout with in-
variable respect of Mr. Brock; and that in every circum-
stance in which he has appeared, he has acted not only with
prudence*, but often with genius. The early obstacle to
!Mr. Brock's success was want of conduct simply. Drink,
women, play — how many .a brave fellow have they ruined!
— had pulled Brock down as often as his merit had carried
him up. When a man's passion for play has brought him
to be a scoundrel, it at once ceases to be hurtful to him in
a worldly point of view ; he cheats, and wins. It is only
for the idle and luxurious that women retain their fascina-
tions to a very late period; and Brock's passions had been
whipped out of him in Virginia ; where much ill-health, ill-
treatment, hard labour, and hard food, speedily put an end
to them. . He forgot there even how to drink ; rum or wine
made this poor, declining gentleman so ill that he could
indulge in them no longer, and so his three vices were
cured. Had he been ambitious, there is little doubt but
that Mr. Brock, on his return from transportation, might
have risen in the world ;. but he was old, and a philosopher :
he did not care about rising. Living was cheaper in those
days, and interest for money higher : when he had amassed
about six hundred pounds, he purchased an annuity of £72
and gave out — why should he not? — that he had the capi-
tal as well as the interest. After leaving the Hayes family
in the country, he found them again in London : he took
up his abode with them, and was attached to the mother
and the son. Do you suppose that rascals have not affec-
tions like other people? hearts, madam — ay, hearts — and
family ties which they cherish? As the doctor lived on
with this charming family, he began to regret that he had
sunk all his money in annuities, and could not, as he re-
peatedly vowed he would, leave his savings to his adopted
children. ,

He felt an indescribable pleasure (" suave rnari magno,"

130 CATHERINE: A STORY.

etc.) in watching the storms and tempests of the Hayes
menage. He used to encourage Mrs. Catherine into anger
when, haply, that lady's fits of calm would last too long;
he used to warm up the disputes between wife and husband,
mother and son, and enjoy them beyond expression : they
served him for daily amusement ; and he used to laugh
until the tears ran down his venerable cheeks at the ac-
counts which young Tom continually brought him of his
pranks abroad, among watchmen and constables, at taverns
or elsewhere.

When, therefore, as the party were discussing their bacon
and cabbage, before which the rev. doctor with much grav-
ity said grace, Master Tom entered, Doctor Wood, who had
before been rather gloomy, immediately brightened up, and
made a place for Billings between himself and Mrs. Cathe-
rine.

"How do, old cock? " said that young gentleman famil-
iarly. "How goes it, mother? " And so saying, he seized
eagerly upon the jug of beer which Mr. Hayes had drawn,
and from which the latter was about to help himself, and
poured down his throat exactly one quart.

" Ah ! " said Mr. Billings, drawing breath after a draught
which he had learned accurately to gauge from the habit of
drinking out of pewter measures which held precisely that
quantity — " Ah ! " said Mr. Billings, drawing breath, and
wiping his mouth with his sleeves, " this is very thin stuff,
old Squaretoes ; but my coppers have been red-hot since
last night, and they wanted a sluicing."

" Should you like some ale, dear? " said Mrs. Hayes, that
fond and judicious parent.

"A quart of brandy, Tom?" said Dr. Wood. "Your
papa will run down to the cellar for it in a minute."

"I'll see him hanged first!" cried Mr. Hayes, quite
frightened.

"Oh, fie, now, you unnatural father! " said the doctor.

The very name of father used to put Mr. Hayes in a
fury. " I'm not his father, thank Heaven ! " said he.

"No, nor nobody else's," said Tom.

CATHERINE: A STORY.

131

Mr. Hayes only muttered, "Base-born brat! "

"His father was a gentleman, — that's more than you
ever were ! " screamed Mrs. Hayes. " His father was a man
of spirit ; no cowardly sneak . of a carpenter, Mr. Hayes !
Tom has noble blood in his veins, for all he has a tailor's
appearance ; and if his mother had had her right, she would
be now in a coach-and-six."

" I wish I could find my father," said Tom ; " for I think
Polly sBriggs and I would look mighty well in a coach-
and-six." Tom fancied, that if his father was a count
at the time of his birth he must be a prince now ; and,
indeed, went among his companions by the latter august
title.

"Ay, Tom, that you would," cried his mother, looking
at him fondly.

" With a sword by my side, and a hat and feather, there's
never a lord at St* James's would cut a finer figure."

After a little more of this talk, in which Mrs. Hayes let
the company know her high opinion of her son — who, as
usual, took care to show his extreme contempt for his father
— the latter retired to his occupations; the lodger, Mrs.
Springatt, who had never said a word all this time, retired
to her apartment on the second floor ; and, pulling out their
pipes and tobacco, the old gentleman and the young one
solaced themselves with half an hour's more talk and
smoking ; while the thrifty Mrs. Hayes, opposite to them,
was busy with her books.

" What's in the confessions? " said Mr. Billings to Doc-
tor Wood. "There were six of 'em besides Mac: two for
sheep, four house-breakers ; but nothing of consequence, I
fancy."

" There's the paper," said Wood, archly ; " read for your-
self; Tom."

Mr. Tom looked at the same time very fierce and very
foolish ; for, though he could drink, swear, and fight, as
well . as any lad of his inches in England, reading was not
among his accomplishments. "I tell you what, doctor,"
said he, " you; have no bantering with me,— for I'm

CATHERINE: A STORY.

not the man that will bear it, me ; " and he threw a

tremendous swaggering look across the table.

" I want you to learn to read, Tommy dear. Look at
your mother, there, over her books; she keeps them as
neat as a scrivener now, and at twenty she could make
never a stroke."

"Your godfather speaks for your good, child; and for
me, thou knowest that I have promised thee a gold-headed
cane and periwig, on the first day that thou canst read me
a column of the Flying Post."

"Hang the periwig!" said Mr. Tom, testily. "Let
my godfather read the paper himself, if he has a liking
for it."

Whereupon, the old gentleman put on his spectacles, and
glanced over the sheet of whity-brown paper, which, orna-
mented with a picture of the gallows at the top, contained
the biographies of the seven unlucky individuals who had
that morning suffered the penalty of the law. With the
six heroes who came first in the list we have nothing to do;
but have before us a copy of the paper containing the life
of No. 7, and which the doctor read with an audible voice.

" Captain $)atsfyane,

" The seventh victim to his own crimes was the famous
highwayman, Captain Macshane, so well known as the
Irish Fire-eater.

" The captain came to the ground in a fine white lawn
Shirt and nightcap; and, being a Papist in his religion,
was attended by Father QJ Flaherty, Popish priest, and
chaplain to the Bavarian envoy.

" Captain Macshane was born of respectable parents, in
the town of Clonakilty, in Ireland, being descended from
mest of the kings in that country. He had the honour of
serving their Majesties King William and Queen Mary, and
her Majesty Queen Anne, in Flanders and Spain, and ob-
tained much credit from my Lords Marlborough and Peter-
borough for his valour.

CATHERINE A STORY. 133

" But being placed on half -pay at the end of the war,
Ensign Macshane took to evil courses; and, frequenting the
bagnios and dice-houses, was speedily brought to ruin.

" Being at this pass, he fell in with the notorious Captain
Wood, and they two together committed many atrocious
robberies in the inland counties; but these being too hot to
hold them, they went into the west, where they were un-
known. Here, however, the day of retribution arrived;
for, having stolen three pewter pots from a public-house,
they, under false names, were tried at Exeter, and trans-
ported for seven years beyond the sea. Thus it is seen that
Justice never sleeps; but, sooner or later, is sure to over-
take the criminal.

" On their return from Virginia, a quarrel about booty
arose between these two, and Macshane killed Wood in a
combat that took place between them near to the town of
Bristol; but a waggon coming up, Macshane was obliged
to fly without the ill-gotten wealth : so tiae is it, that wick-
edness never prospers.

"Two days afterwards, Macshane met the coach of Miss
Macraw, a Scotch lady and heiress, going, for lumbago and
gout, to the Bath. He at first would have robbed this lady;
but such were his arts, that he induced her to marry him;
and they lived together for seven years in the town of
Eddenboro, in Scotland, — he passing under the name of
Colonel Geraldine. The lady dying, and Macshane having
expended all her wealth, he was obliged to resume his
former evil courses, in order to save himself from starva-
tion; whereupon he robbed a Scotch lord, by name the
Lord of Whistlebinkie, of a mull of snuff; for which crime
he was condemned to the Tolbooth prison at Eddenboro, ia
Scotland, and whipped many times in publick.

"These deserved punishments did not at 'all alter Captain
Macshane's disposition; and on the 17th of February last
he stopped the Bavarian envoy 's coach on Blackheath, com-
ing from Dover, and robbed his excellency and his chap-
lain ; taking from the former his money, watches, star, a
fur cloak, his sword (a very valuable one) ; and from the

134 CATHERINE: A STORY.

latter a Romish missal, out of which he was then reading,
and a case-bottle. "

" The Bavarian envy ! " said Tom, parenthetically. " My
master, Beinkleider, was his lordship's regimental tailor in
Germany, and is now making a court suit for him. It will
be a matter of a hundred pounds to him, I warrant."

Dr. Wood resumed his reading. " Hum — hum ! A Rom-
ish missal out of which he was reading, and a case-bottle..

." By means of the famous Mr. Wild, this notorious crimi-
nal was brought to justice, and the case-bottle and missal
have been restored to Father O' Flaherty.

"During his confinement in Newgate, Mr. Macshane
could not be brought to express any contrition for his
crimes, except that of having killed his commanding offi-
cer. For this Wood he pretended an excessive sorrow, and
vowed that usquebaugh had .been the cause of his death, —
indeed, in prison he partook of no other liquor, and drunk
a bottle of it on the day before his death. Mi;

"He was visited by several of the clergy and gentry jn
his cell; among others, by the Popish priest whom he had
robbed, Father 0' Flaherty, before mentioned, who attended
him likewise in his last moments (if that idolatrous wor-
ship may be called attention); and likewise by the father's
patron, the Bavarian ambassador, his Excellency Count
Maximilian de Galgenstein."

As old Wood came to these words, he paused to give
them utterance.

"What! Max?" screamed Mrs. Hayes, letting her ink-
bottle fall over her ledgers.

"Why, be hanged, if it ben't my father!" said Mr.
Billings.

" Your father, sure enough, unless there be others of his
name, and unless the scoundrel is hanged," said the doc-
tor; sinking his voice, however, at the end of the sentence.

Mr. Billings broke his pipe in an agony of joy. "I
think we'll have the coach now, mother," says he; "and
I'm blessed if Polly Briggs shall not look as fine as a
duchess."

CATHERINE: A STORY. 135

"Polly Briggs is a low slut, Tom, and not fit for the
likes of you, his excellency's son. Oh, fie! You must be
a gentleman, now, sirrah; and I doubt whether I shaVt
take you away from that odious tailor's shop altogether."

To this proposition Mr. Billings objected altogether; for,
besides Mrs. Briggs before alluded to, the young gentleman
was much attached to his master's daughter, Mrs. Mar-
garet Grretel, or Gretchen Beinkleider.

"No," says he. "There will be time to think of that
hereafter, ma'am. If my pa makes a man of me, why,
of course, the shop may go to the deuce, for what I
care; but we had better wait, look you, for something
certain, before we give up such a pretty bird in the hand
as this."

"He speaks like Solomon," said the doctor.

" I always said he would be a credit to his old mother,
didn't I, Brock? " cried Mrs. Cat, embracing her son very
affectionately. "A credit to her; ay, I warrant, a real
blessing! And dost thou want any money, Tom? for a
lord's son must not go about without a few pieces in his
pocket. And I tell thee, Tommy, thou must go and see his
lordship; and thou shalt have a piece of brocade for a
waistcoat, thou shalt; ay, and the silver-hilted sword I
told thee of; but oh, Tommy, Tommy! have a care, and
don't be a-drawing of it in naughty company at the gam-
ing-houses, or at the "

" A drawing of fiddlesticks, mother ! If I go to see my
father, I must have a reason for it; and instead of going
with a sword in my hand, I shall take something else
in it."

"The lad is a lad of nouse," cried Dr. Wood, "although
his mother does spoil him so cruelly. Look you, Madame
Cat; did you not hear what he said about Beinkleider and
the clothes? Tommy will just wait on the count with his
lordship's breeches. A man may learn a deal of news in
the trying on of a pair of breeches."

And so it was agreed, that in this manner the son should
at first make his appearance before his father. Mrs. Cat

136 CATHERINE: A* STORY.

gave him the piece of brocade, which, in the course of
the day, was fashioned into a smart waistcoat (for Bein-
kleider's shop was close by, in Cavendish Square). Mrs.
Gretel, with many blushes, tied a fine blue riband round
his neck; and, in a pair of silk stockings, with gold
buckles to his shoes, Master Billings looked a very proper
young gentleman.

"And, Tommy, " said his mother, blushing and hesitat-
ing, " should Max — should his lordship ask after your —
want to know if your mother is alive, you can say she is,
and well, and often talks of old times. And, Tommy "
(after another pause), "you needn't say anything about
Mr. Hayes; only say I'm quite well."

Mrs. Hayes looked at him as he marched down the
street, a long, long way. Tom was proud and gay in his
new costume, and was not unlike his father. As she
looked, lo ! Oxford Street disappeared ; and she saw a green
common, and a village, and a little inn. There was a sol-
dier leading a pair of horses about on the green common ;
and in the inn sate a cavalier, so young, so merry, so beau-
tiful ! Oh, what slim, white hands he had ; and winning
words, and tender, gentle, blue eyes ! Was it not an honour
to a country lass that such a noble gentleman should look
at her for a moment? Had he not some charm about him
that she must needs obey, when he whispered in her ear,
"Come, follow me"? As she walked towards the lane
that morning, how well she remembered each spot as she
passed it, and the look it wore for the last time ! How the
smoke was rising from the pastures, how the fish were
jumping and plashing in the mill-stream ! There was the
church, with all its windows lighted up with gold, and
yonder were the reapers sweeping down the brown corn.
She tried to sing as she went up the hill — what was it?
She could not remember; but, oh, how well she remembered
the sound of the horse's hoofs, as they came quicker,
quicker — nearer, nearer! How noble he looked on his
great horse! Was he thinking of her, or were they all
silly words which he spoke last night, merely to pass away

CATHEEINE: A STORY.

137

the time and deceive poor girls with?
them, would he?

Would he remember

"Cat, my dear," here cried Mr. Brock, alias Captain,
alias Dr. Wood; "here's the meat a-getting cold, and I am
longing for my breakfast. "

As they went in, he looked her hard in the face. " What,
still at it, you silly girl? Fve been watching you these
five minutes, Cat ; and be hanged but I think a word from
Galgenstein, and you would follow him as a fly does a
treacle-pot? "

They went in to breakfast ; but, though there was a hot
shoulder-of -mutton and onion-sauce — Mrs. Catherine's fa-
vourite dish — she never touched a morsel of it.

In the meanwhile, Mr. Thomas Billings, in his new
clothes which his mamma had given him, in his new riband
which the fair Miss Beinkleider had tied round his neck,
and having his excellency's breeches wrapped in a silk
handkerchief in his right hand, turned down in the direc-
tion of Whitehall, where the Bavarian envoy lodged. But,
before he waited on him, Mr. Billings, being excessively
pleased with his personal appearance, made an early visit
to Mrs. Briggs, who lived in the neighbourhood of Swallow
Street; and who, after expressing herself with much enthu-
siasm regarding her Tommy's good looks, immediately
asked him what he would stand to drink? Raspberry gin
being suggested, a pint of that liquor was sent for ; and so
great was the confidence and intimacy subsisting between
these two young people, that the reader will be glad to
hear that Mrs. Polly accepted every1 shilling of the money
which Tom Billings had received from his mamma the day
before; nay, could with difficulty be prevented from seiz-
ing upon the cut-velvet breeches which he was carrying to
the nobleman for whom they were made. Having paid his
adieux to Mrs. Polly, Mr. Billings departed to visit his
father.

138 CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTER IX.

INTERVIEW BETWEEN COUNT GALGEN8TEIN AND
MASTER THOMAS BILLINGS, WHEN HE INFORMS
THE COUNT OF HIS PARENTAGE.

I DON'T know, in all this miserable world, a more miser-
able spectacle than that of a young fellow of five- or six-
and-forty. The British army, that nursery of valour, turns
out many of the young fellows I mean; who, having
flaunted in dragoon uniforms from seventeen to six-and-
thirty ; having bought, sold, or swapped during that period
some two hundred horses ; having played, say fifteen thou-
sand games at billiards ; having drunk some six thousand
bottles of wine ; having consumed a reasonable number of
Nugee coats, split many dozen pairs of high-heeled Hoby
boots, and read the newspaper and the army-list duly, retire
from the service when they have attained their eighth
lustre, and saunter through the world, trailing from Lon-
don to Cheltenham, and from Boulogne to Paris, and from
Paris to Baden, their idleness, their ill-health, and their
ennui. "In the morning of youth," and when seen along
with whole troops of their companions, these flowers look
gaudy and brilliant enough; but there is no object more
dismal than one of them alone, and in its autumnal or
seedy state. My friend, Captain Popjoy, is one of them
who has arrived at this condition, and whom everybody
knows by his title of Father Pop. A kinder, simpler,
more empty-headed fellow does not exist. He is forty-
seven years old, and appears a young, good-looking man of
sixty. At the time of the army of occupation, he really
was as good-looking a man as any in the dragoons. He
now uses all sorts of stratagems to cover the bald place on1
his head, by combing certain thin, grey side-locks over it.
He has, in revenge, a pair of enormous moustaches, which

CATHERINE: A STORY.

139

lie dyes of the richest blue-black. His nose is a good deal
larger and redder than it used to be ; his eyelids have grown
flat and heavy ; and a little pair of red, watery eyeballs
float in the midst of them ; it seems as if the light which
was once in those sickly, green pupils had extravasated into
the white part of the eye. If Pop's legs are not so firm
and muscular as they used to be in those days when he took
such leaps into White's buckskins, in revenge his waist is
much larger. He wears a very good coat, however, and
a waistband, which he lets out after dinner. Before ladies
he blushes, and is as silent as a schoolboy. He calls them
"modest women." His society is chiefly among young lads
belonging to his former profession. He knows the best
wine to be had at each tavern or cafe, and the waiters treat
him with much respectful familiarity. He knows the
names of every one of them; and shouts out, " Send Mark-
well here ! " or " Tell Cuttriss to give us a bottle of the
yellow seal; " or, "Dizzy voo, Monsure Borrel, noo donny
shampang frappy," etc. He always makes the salad or
the punch, and dines out three hundred days in the year;
the other days you see him in a two-franc eating-house at
Paris, or prowling about B,upert Street or St. Martin's
€ourt, where you get a capital cut of meat for fcightpence.
He has decent lodgings, and scrupulously clean linen ; his
animal functions are still tolerably well-preserved, his
spiritual have evaporated long since; he sleeps well, has
no conscience, believes himself to be a respectable fellow,
and is tolerably happy on the days when he is asked out to
dinner.

• Poor Pop is not very high in the scale of created beings;
but, if you fancy there is none lower, you are in egregious
error. There was once a man who had a mysterious ex-
hibition of an animal quite unknown to naturalists, called
"the wusser." Those curious individuals who desired to
see the wusser, were introduced into an apartment where
appeared before them nothing more than a little lean,
shrivelled, hideous, blear-eyed, mangy pig. Every one
cried out swindle and shame, "Patience, gentlemen, be

140 CATHERINE: A STORY.

heasy," said the showman; "look at that there hanhnal;
it's a perfect phenomaly of hugliness; I engage you never
see such a pig." Nobody ever had seen. "Now, gentle-
men," said he, " I'll keep my promise, has per bill; and
bad as that there pig is, look at this here " (he showed
another); "look at this here, and you'll see at once that
it's a wusser." In like manner the Popjoy breed is bad
enough, but it serves only to show off the Galgenstein race,
which is wusser.

Galgenstein had led a very gay life, as the saying is, for
the last fifteen years ; such a gay one, that he had lost all
capacity of enjoyment by this time, and only possessed
inclinations without powers of gratifying them. He had
grown to be exquisitely curious and fastidious about meat
and drink, for instance, and all that he wanted was an
appetite. He carried about with him a French cook, who
could not make him eat; a doctor, who could not make him
well; a mistress, of whom he was heartily sick after two
days; a priest, who had been a favourite of the exemplary
Dubois, and by turns used to tickle him by the imposition
of a penance, or by the repetition of a tale from the recuett
of Noce, or La Fare. All his appetites were wasted and
worn; only some monstrosity would galvanise them into
momentary action. He was in that effete state to which
many noblemen of his time had arrived; who were ready to
believe in ghost-raising, or in gold-making, or to retire into
monasteries and wear hair-shirts, or to dabble in conspira-
cies, or to die in love with little cook-maids of fifteen, or to
pine for the smiles or at the frowns of a prince of the blood,
or to go mad at the refusal of a chamberlain's key. The
last gratification he remembered to have enjoyed, was that
of riding bare-headed in a soaking rain for three hours by
the side of his grand-duke's mistress's coach; taking the
pas of Count Krahwinkel, who challenged him, and was
run through the body for this very dispute. Galgenstein
gained a rheumatic gout by it, which put him to tortures
for many months, and was further gratified with the post
of English envoy. He had a fortune, he asked no salary,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 141

and could look the envoy very well. Father O'Flaherty
did all the duties, and furthermore acted as a spy over the
ambassador — a sinecure post; for the man had no feelings,
wishes, or opinions — absolutely none.

"Upon my life, father," said this worthy man, "I care
for nothing. You have been talking for an hour about the
Regent's death, and the Duchess of Phalaris, and sly old
Fleury, and what not; and I care just as much as if you
told me that one of my bauers at Galgenstein had killed a
pig; or as if my lackey, La Eose, yonder, had made love
to my mistress."

" He does ! " said the reverend gentleman.

"Ah, Monsieur 1'Abbe'! " said La Rose, who was arrang-
ing his master's enormous court periwig, "you are, helas!
wrong. Monsieur le Conite will not be angry at my saying
that I wish the accusation were true? "

The count did not take the slightest notice of La Rose's
wit, but continued his own complaints.

" I tell you, abbe, I care for nothing. I lost a thousand
guineas t'other night at basset; I wish to: my heart I
Could have been vexed about it. Egad ! I remember the
day when to lose a hundred made me half mad for a month.
Well, next day I had my revenge at dice, and threw thir-
teen mains. There was some delay; a call for fresh bones,
I think; and would you believe it? I fell asleep with the
"box in my hand ! "

"A desperate case, indeed," said the abbe.

" If it had not been for Krahwinkel, I should have been
a dead man, that's positive. That pinking him saved

me

t »

" I make no doubt of it," said the abbe. " Had your ex-
cellency not run him through, he, without a doubt, would
have done the same for you. "

" Psha! you mistake my words, Monsieur PAbbe " (yawn-
ing); "I mean— what cursed chocolate !— that I was dying
for want of excitement. Not that I care for dying; no,
d me, if I do ! "

" When you do, your excellency means," said the abbs',

142 CATHERINE: A STORY.

a fat, grey-haired Irishman, from the Irlandois College at
Paris.

His excellency did not laugh, nor understand jokes of
any kind; he was of an undeviating stupidity, and only
replied, "Sir, I mean what T say; I don't care for living;
no, nor for dying either; but I can speak as well as another,
and I'll thank you not to be correcting my phrases as if I
were one of your cursed school-boys, and not a gentleman
of fortune and blood. "

Herewith the count, who had uttered four sentences about
himself (he never spoke of anything else), sunk back on
his pillows again, quite exhausted by his eloquence; the
abbe, who had a seat and a table by his bedside, resumed
the labours which had brought him into the room in the
morning, and busied himself with papers, which occasion-
ally he handed over to his superior for approval.

Presently Monsieur La Rose appeared.

"Here is a person with clothes from Mr. Beinkleider's.
Will your excellency see him, or shall I bid him leave the
clothes?"

The count was very much fatigued by this time; he had
signed three papers, and read the first half-dozen lines of
a pair of them.

"Bid the fellow come in, La Rose; and, harkye, give me
my wig: one must show one's self to be a gentleman be-
fore these scoundrels." And he therefore mounted a large
chestnut-coloured, orange-scented pyramid of horse-hair,
which was to awe the newcomer.

He was a lad of about seventeen, in a smart waistcoat and
a blue riband; our friend, Tom Billings, indeed. He carried
under his arm the count's destined breeches; he did not seem
in the least awed, however, by his excellency's appearance,
but looked at him with a great degree of curiosity and bold-
ness. In the same manner he surveyed the chaplain, and
then nodded to him with a kind look of recognition.

" Where have I seen the lad? " said the father. " Oh, I
have it ! My good friend, you were at the hanging yester-
day, I think?"

CATHERINE: A STORY.

143

Mr. Billings gave a very significant nod with his head.
" I never miss," said he.

"What a young Turk! And pray, sir, do you go for
pleasure, or for business? "

" Business ! what do you mean by business? "

" Oh, I did not know whether you might be brought up
to the trade, or whether your relations be undergoing the
operation."

" My relations," said Mr. Billings, proudly, and staring
the count full in the face, "was not made for no such
thing. I'm a tailor now, but I'm a gentleman's son; as
good a man, ay, as his lordship there; for you a'n't his
lordship — you're the Popish priest, you are ; and we were
very near giving you a touch of a few Protestant stones,
master. "

The count began to be a little amused ; he was pleased to
see the abbe look alarmed, or even foolish.

"Egad, abbe," said he, "you turn as white as a sheet."

" I don't fancy being murdered, my lord," said the abbe',
hastily, " and murdered for a good work. It was but to be
useful to yonder poor Irishman, who saved me as a pris-
oner in Flanders, when Marlborough would have hung me
up like poor Macshane himself was yesterday."

" Ah ! " said the count, bursting out with some energy,
"I was thinking who the fellow could be ever since he
robbed me on the Heath. I recollect the scoundrel now,
he was a second in a duel I had here in the year 9."

"Along with Major Wood, behind Montague House,"
said Mr. Billings. "I've heard on it." And here he
looked more knowing than ever.

" You ! " cried the count, more and more surprised; " and
pray who the devil are you ? "

"My name's Billings."

" Billings? " said the count.

" I come out of Warwickshire," said Mr. Billings.

"Indeed!"

" I was born at Birmingham town. "

MVere you, really!" ^ ^

144 CATHERINE: A STORY.

"My mother's name was Hayes," continued Billings, in
a solemn voice; "I was put out to nurse along with John
Billings, a blacksmith; and my father run away. Now do
you know who I am? "

"Why, upon honour, now," said the count, who was
amused, — "upon honour, Mr. Billings, I have not that
advantage."

" Well, then, my lord, you're my father !"

Mr. Billings, when he said this, came forward to the
count with a theatrical air ; and, flinging down the breeches
of which he was the bearer, held out his arms and stared,
having very little doubt but that his lordship would forth-
with spring out of bed and hug him to his heart. A similar
piece of naivete many fathers of families have, I have no
doubt, remarked in their children; who, not caring for
their parents a single doit, conceive, nevertheless, that the
latter are bound to show all sorts of affection for them.
His lordship did move, but backwards towards the wall,
and began pulling at the bell-rope with an expression of
the most intense alarm.

" Keep back, sirrah ! — keep back ! Suppose I am your
father, do you want to murder me? Good heavens, how
the boy smells of gin and tobacco ! Don't turn away, my
lad; sit down there at a proper distance; and, La Rose,
give him some eau-de-cologne, and get a cup of coffee.
Well, now, go on with your story. Egad, my dear
abbe, I think it is very likely that what the lad says is
true!"

" If it is a family conversation," said the abbe, " I had
better leave you."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, no! I could not stand the boy
alone. Now, mister, ah! what's your name? Have the
goodness to tell your story."

Mr. Billings was woefully disconcerted; for his mother
and he had agreed that, as soon as his father saw him, he
would be recognised at once, and, mayhap, made heir to
the estates and title; in which being disappointed, he very
sulkily went on with his narrative, and detailed many of

CATHERINE: A STORY. 145

those events with which the reader has already been made
acquainted. The count asked the boy 'smother's Christian
name, and being told of it, his memory at once returned to
him.

" What! are you little Cat's son? " said his excellency.
"By heavens, man cher abbe, a charming creature, but a
tigress — positively a tigress. I recollect the whole affair
now; she's a little, fresh, black-haired woman, a'n't she?
With a sharp nose, and thick eyebrows, ay? Ah ! yes,
yes," went on my lord; "I recollect her, I recollect her;
it was at Birmingham I first met her ; she was my Lady
Trippet's woman, wasn't she? "

"She was no such thing," said Mr. Billings, hotly; "her
aunt kept the Bugle Inn on Waltham Green, and your lord-
ship seduced her."

"Seduced her! oh, 'gad, so I did; stap me, now, I did.
Yes, I made her jump on my black horse, and bore her off
like — like .ZEneas bore away his wife from the siege of
Eome! hey, 1'Abbe?"

"The events were precisely similar," said the abbe; "it
is wonderful what a memory you have ! "

"I was always remarkable for it," continued his excel-
lency. " Well, where was I, — at the black horse? Yes,
at the black horse. Well, I mounted her on the black
horse, and rode her en croupe, egad, ha, ha! — to Birming-
ham ; and there we billed and cooed together like a pair of
turtle-doves; yes — ha! — that we did! "

I " And this, I suppose, is the end of some of the billings ? "
said the abbe, pointing to Mr. Tom.

"Billings! what do you mean? Yes, oh, ah, a pun, a
calembourg : fi, done, M. 1'Abbe." And then, after the
wont of very stupid people, M. de Galgenstein went on to
explain to the abbe his own pun. " Well, but to proceed,"
cries he; "we lived together at Birmingham, and I was
going to be married to a rich heiress, egad! when, what
do you think this little Cat does? She murders me, egad!
and makes me manquer the marriage. Twenty thousand,
I think it was, and I wanted the money in those days.

146 CATHERINE: A STORY.

Now, wasn't she an abominable monster, that mother of
yours, hey, Mr. a — What's-your-name? "

" She served you right ! " said Mr. Billings, with a great
oath, starting up out of all patience.

" Fellow ! " said his excellency, quite aghast, " do you
know to whom you speak? — to a nobleman of seventy-eight
descents ; a count of the Holy Eoman empire ; a representa-
tive of a sovereign? ha, egad! Don't stamp, fellow, if you
hope for my protection."

" D — n your protection ! " said Mr. Billings, in a fury.
"Curse you and your protection too! I'm a freeborn

Briton, and no French Papist ! And any man who

insults my mother — ay, or calls me feller, had better look
to himself and the two eyes in his head, I can tell you ! "
And with this Mr. Billings put himself into the most ap-
proved attitude of the Cockpit, and invited his father, the
reverend gentleman, and M. La Rose, the valet, to engage
with him in a pugilistic encounter. The two latter, the
abbe* especially, seemed dreadfully frightened; but the
count now looked on with much interest ; and, giving ut-
terance to a feeble kind of chuckle, which lasted for about
half a minute, said,—

"Paws off, Pompey; you young hangdog, you — egad,
yes, aha! 'Pon honour, you're a lad of spirit; some of
your father's spunk in you, he? I know him by that oath.
Why, sir, when I was sixteen, I used to swear — to swear,
egad, like a Thames waterman, and exactly in this fellow's
way ! Buss me, my lad ; no, kiss my hand, that will do,"
and he held out a very lean, yellow hand, peering from a
pair of yellow ruffles ; it shook very much, and the shaking
made all the rings upon it shine only the more.

"Well," says Mr. Billings, "if you wasn't a-going to
abuse nte nor mother, I don't care if I shake hands with
you : I ain't proud ! "

The abbe laughed with great glee ; and that very evening
sent off to his court a most ludicrous, spicy description of
the whole scene of meeting between this amiable father and
child, in which he said that young Billings was the eleve

CATHERINE: A STORY.

147

favorite of M. Kitch, Ecuyer, le bourreau de Londres,
and which made the duke's mistress laugh so much, that
she vowed that the abbe should have a bishopric on his re-
turn ; for, with such store of wisdom, look you, my son,
was the world governed in those days.

The count and his offspring meanwhile conversed with
some cordiality. The former informed the latter of all the
diseases to which he was subject, his manner of curing
them, his great consideration as chamberlain to the Duke
of Bavaria ; how he wore his court-suits, and of a particular
powder which he had invented for the hair ; how, when he
was seventeen, he had run away with a canoness, egad!
who was afterwards locked up in a convent, and grew to be
sixteen stone in weight ; how he remembered the time when
ladies did not wear patches ; and how the Duchess of Marl-
borough boxed his ears when he was so high, because he
wanted to kiss her.

All these important anecdotes took some time in the tell-
ing, and were accompanied by many profound moral re-
marks ; such as, " I can't abide garlic, nor white-wine, stap
me, nor sauerkraut, though his highness eats half a bushel
per day. I ate it the first time at court ; but, when they
brought it me a second time, I refused — refused, split me
and grill me if I didn't. Everybody stared; his highness
looked as fierce as a Turk ; and that infernal Krahwinkel
(my dear, I did for him afterwards) — that cursed Krah-
winkel, I say, looked as pleased as possible, and whispered
to Countess Fritsch, ' Blitzchen Frau Grafinn,' says he, * it's
all over with G-algenstein.' What did I do? I had the
entree, and demanded it. ' Altesse,' says I, falling on one
knee, ' I ate no kraut at dinner to-day ; you remarked it,
I saw your highness remark it.'

"' I did, M. le Comte,' said his highness, gravely.

" I had almost tears in my eyes, but it was necessary to
come to a resolution, you know. ' Sir,' said I, * I speak
with deep grief to your Highness, who are my benefactor,
my f rienol, my father j but of this I am resolved, I WILL
NEVER EAT SAUERKRAUT MORE ; it don't agree with me.

148 CATHERINE: A STORY.

After being laid up for four weeks by the last dish of
sauerkraut of which I partook, I may say with confidence
— it don't agree with me. By impairing iny health, it im-
pairs my intellect, and weakens my strength, and both I
would keep for your highnesses service.'

" ' Tut, tut ! ' said his highness ; * tut, tut, tut ! ' Those
were his very words.

"' Give me my sword or my pen,' said I; ' give me my
sword or my pen, and with these Maximilian de Galgen-
stein is ready to serve you ; but sure, — sure, a great prince
will pity the weak health of a faithful subject, who does
not know how to eat sauerkraut? ' His highness was
walking about the room, I was still on my knees, and
stretched forward my hand to seize his coat.

" ' GEHT ZUM TEUFEL, sir ! ' said he, in a loud voice (it
means ' Go to the deuce/ my dear), — ' Geht zum teufel,
and eat what you like ! ' With this he went out of the
room abruptly, leaving in my hand one of his buttons,
which I keep to this day. As soon as I was alone, amazed
by his great goodness and bounty, I sobbed aloud — cried
like a child " (the count's eyes filled and winked at the
very recollection); "and when I went back into the card-
room, stepping up to Krahwinkel, * Count,' says I, t who
looks foolish now? ' — Hey, there, La Kose, give me the

diamond Yes, that was the very pun I made, and

very good it was thought. ' Krahwinkel,' says I, 'who
looks foolish now?' and from that day to this I was never
at a court-day asked to eat sauerkraut — never.

11 Hey there, La Rose ! Bring me that diamond snuff-
box in the drawer of my secretaire; " and the snuff-box was
brought. "Look at it, my dear," said the count, "for I
saw you seemed to doubt ; there is the button — the very
one that came off his grace's coat."

Mr. Billings received it, and twisted it about with a
stupid air. The story had quite mystified him ; for he did
not dare yet to think his father was a fool — his respect for
the aristocracy prevented him.

When the count's communications had ceased, which

CATHERINE: A STORY.

149

they did as soon as the story of the sauerkraut was
finished, a silence of some minutes ensued. Mr. Billings
was trying to comprehend the circumstances above nar-
rated; his lordship was exhausted; the chaplain had
quitted the room directly the word sauerkraut was men-
tioned— he knew what was coming. His lordship looked
for some time at his son, who returned the gaze with his
mouth wide open. "Well," said the count; "well, sir?
What are you sitting there for? If you have nothing to
say, sir, you had better go. I had you here to amuse me
— split me — and not to sit there staring ! "

Mr. Billings rose in a fury.

"Hark ye, my lad," said the count, "tell La Kose to
give thee five guineas, and, ah — come again some morning.
A nice, well-grown young lad," mused the count, as Mas-
ter Tommy walked wondering out of the apartment ; " a
pretty fellow enough, and intelligent too."

" Well, he is an odd fellow, my father," thought Mr.
Billings, as he walked out, having received the sum offered
to him. And he immediately went to call upon his friend
Polly Briggs, from whom he had separated in the morning.

What was the result of their interview is not at all nec-
essary to the progress of this history. Having made her,
however, acquainted with the particulars of his visit to his
father, he went to his mother's, and related to her all that
had occurred.

Poor thing, she was very differently interested in the
issue of it!

150 CATHERINE; A STORY,

CHAPTER X.

SHOWING HOW GALGENSTEIN AND MRS. CAT RECOG-
NISE EACH OTHER IN MARYLEBONE GARDENS— AND
HOW THE COUNT DRIVES HER HOME IN HIS CAR-
RIAGE.

ABOUT a month after the touching conversation above
related, there was given, at Marylebone Gardens, a grand
concert and entertainment, at which the celebrated Madame
Amenaide, a dancer of the theatre at Paris, was to per-
form, under the patronage of several English and foreign
noblemen ; among whom was his excellency the Bavarian
envoy. Madame Amenaide was, in fact, no other than the
mattresse en titre of the Monsieur de Galgenstein, who had
her a great bargain from the Duke de Kohan-Chabot at
Paris.

It is not our purpose to make a great and learned display
here, otherwise the costumes of the company assembled at
this f§te might afford scope for at least half a dozen pages
of fine writing ; and we might give, if need were, speci-
mens of the very songs and music sung on the occasion.
Does not the Burney collection of music, at the British
Museum, afford one an ample store of songs from which to
choose? Are there not the memoirs of Colley Gibber?
those of Mrs. Clark, the daughter of Colley? Is there not
Congreve, and Farquhar — nay, and at a pinch, the " Dra-
matic Biography," or even the Spectator, from which the
observant genius might borrow passages, and construct
pretty antiquarian figments? Leave we these trifles to
meaner souls ! Our business is not with the breeches and
periwigs, with the hoops and patches, but with the divine
hearts of men, and of the passions which agitate them.
What need, therefore, have we to say that on this evening,
after the dancing, the music, and the fireworks, Monsieur

CATHERINE: A STOUT.

151

de Galgenstein felt the strange and welcome pangs of appe-
tite, and was picking a cold chicken, along with some other
friends, in an arbour — a cold chicken, with an accompani-
ment of a bottle of champagne — when he was led to remark
that a very handsome, plump little person, in a gorgeous
stiff damask gown and petticoat, was sauntering up and
down the walk running opposite his supping-place, and be-
stowing continual glances towards his excellency. The
lady, whoever she was, was in a mask, such as ladies of
high and low fashion wore at public places in those days,
and had a male companion. He was a lad of only seven-
teen, marvellously well dressed— indeed, no other than the
count's own son, Mr. Thomas Billings; who had at length
received from his mother the silver-hilted sword, and the
wig, which that affectionate parent had promised to him.

In the course of the month which had clasped since the
interview that has been described in the former chapter,
Mr. Billings had several times had occasion to wait on his
father ; but though he had, according to her wishes, fre-
quently alluded to the existence of his mother, the count
had never at any time expressed the slightest wish to re-
new his acquaintance with that lady ; who, if she had seen
him, had only seen him by stealth.

The fact is, that after Billings had related to her the
particulars of his first meeting with his excellency, which
ended, like many of the latter visits, in nothing at all,
Mrs. Hayes had found some pressing business, which con-
tinually took her to Whitehall, and had been prowling
from day to day about Monsieur de Galgenstein7 s lodgings.
Four or five times in the week, as his excellency stepped
into his coach, he might have remarked, had he chosen, a
woman in a black hood, who was looking most eagerly into
his eyes : but those eyes had long since left off the practice
of observing; and Madame Catherine's visits had so far
gone for nothing.

On this night, however, inspired by gaiety and drink,
the count had been amazingly stricken by the gait and
ogling of the lady in the mask. The Eeverend O'Flaherty,

152 CATHERINE: A STORY.

who was with him, and had observed the figure in the
black cloak, recognised, or thought he recognised, her.
"It is the woman who dogs your excellency every day,"
said he. " She is with that tailor lad who loves to see
people hanged — your excellency's son, I mean." And he
was just about to warn the count of a conspiracy evidently
made against him, and that the son had brought, most
likely, the mother to play her arts upon him — he was just
about, I say, to show to the count the folly and danger of
renewing an old liaison with a woman such as he had de-
scribed Mrs. Cat to be, when his excellency, starting up,
and interrupting his ghostly adviser at the very beginning
of his sentence, said, "Egad, 1'Abbe, you are right — it is
my son, and a mighty smart-looking creature with him.
Hey! Mr. What's-your-name — Tom, you rogue, don't you
know your own father? " And so saying, and cocking his
beaver on one side, Monsieur de Galgenstein strutted
jauntily after Mr. Billings and the two ladies.

It was the first time that the count had formally recog-
nised his son.

"Tom, you rogue," stopped at this, and the count came
up. He had a white velvet suit, covered over with stars
and orders, a neat modest wig and bag, and peach-coloured
silk-stockings, with silver clasps. The lady in the mask
gave a start as his excellency came forward. "Law,
mother, don't squeege so," said Tom. The poor woman
was trembling in every limb ; but she had presence of mind
to ' squeege ' Tom a great deal harder ; and the latter took
the hint, I suppose, and was silent.

The splendid count came up. Ye gods, how his em-
broidery glittered in the lamps ! What a royal exhalation
of musk and bergamot came from his wig, his handker-
chief, and his grand lace ruffles and frills ! A broad yel-
low riband passed across his breast, and ended at his hip
in a shining diamond cross — a diamond cross, and a dia-
mond sword-hilt! Was anything ever seen so beautiful?
And might not a poor woman tremble when such a noble

CATHERINE: A STORY.

153

creature drew near to her, and deigned, from the height of
his rank and splendour, to look down upon her? As Jove
came down to Semele in state, in his habits of ceremony,
with all the grand cordons of his orders blazing about his
imperial person — thus dazzling, magnificent, triumphant,
the great Galgenstein descended towards Mrs. Catherine.
Her cheeks glowed red hot under her coy velvet mask, her
heart thumped against the whalebone prison of her stays.
What a delicious storm of vanity was raging in her bosom !
What a rush of long-pent recollections burst forth at the
sound of that enchanting voice !

As you wind up a hundred-guinea chronometer with a
twopenny watch-key — as by means of a dirty wooden plug
you set all the waters of Versailles a-raging, and splashing,
and storming — in like manner, and by like humble agents,
were Mrs. Catherine's tumultuous passions set going. The
count, we have said, slipped up to his son, and merely say-
ing, "How do, Tom?" cut the young gentleman alto-
gether, and passing round to the lady's side, said, "Mad-
am, 'tis a charming evening — egad it is!" She almost
fainted : it was the old voice — there he was, after seventeen
years, once more at her side !

Now I know what I could have done. I can turn out a
quotation from Sophocles (by looking to the index) as well
as another : I can throw off a bit of fine writing too, with
passion, similes, and a moral at the end. What, pray, is
the last sentence but one but the very finest writing?
Suppose, for example, I had made Maximilian, as he stood
by the side of Catherine, look up towards the clouds, and
exclaim, in the words of the voluptuous Cornelius Nepos —

aevdoi

apOupev Qavepal

tipoaepav tyvaiv evayfrroi, n. T. A.

Or suppose, again, I had said, in a style still more popular :
— The count advanced towards the maiden. They both
were mute for a while ; and only the beating of her heart
interrupted that thrilling and passionate silence. Ah,

154 CATHERINE: A STORY.

what years of buried joys and fears, hopes and disappoint-
ments, arose from their graves in the far past, and in
those brief moments flitted before the united ones ! How
sad was that delicious retrospect, and oh, how sweet! The
tears that rolled down the cheek of each were bubbles from
the choked and moss-grown wells of youth ; the sigh that
heaved each bosom had some lurking odours in it — mem-
ories of the fragrance of boyhood, echoes of the hymns of
the young heart ! Thus is it ever — for these blessed recol-
lections the soul always has a place ; and while crime per-
ishes, and sorrow is forgotten, the beautiful alone is
eternal.

" 0 golden legends, written in the skies ! " mused De
Galgensfcein, "ye shine as ye did in the olden days! We
change, but ye speak ever the same language. Gazing in
your abysmal depths, the feeble ratioci - "

There, now, are six columns * of the best writing to be
found in this or any other book. Galgenstein has quoted
Euripides thrice, Plato once, Lycophron nine times, besides
extracts from the Latin syntax and the minor Greek poets.
Catherine's passionate embreathings are of the most fash-
ionable order ; and I call upon the ingenious critic of the
X -- newspaper to say whether they do not possess the
real impress of the giants of the olden time — the real Pla-
tonic smack, in a word? Not that I want in the least to
show off; but it is as well, every now and then, to shew
the public what one can do.

Instead, however, of all this rant and nonsense, how
much finer is the speech that the count really did make?
" It is a very fine evening, — egad it is ! " The " egad " did

* There were six columns, as mentioned by the accurate Mr. Solo-
mons; but we have withdrawn two pages and three-quarters, be-
cause, although our correspondent has been excessively eloquent,
according to custom we were anxious to come to the facts of the
story.

Solomons, by sending to our office, may have the cancelled pas-
J.-0. Y.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 155

the whole business ; Mrs. Cat was as much in love with
him now as ever she had been : and, gathering up all her
energies, she said, " It is dreadful hot too, I think ; " and
with this she made a curtsey.

" Stifling, split me ! " added his excellency. " What do
you say, madam, to a rest in an arbour, and a drink of
something cool? "

" Sir ! " said the lady, drawing back.

"Oh, a drink — a drink by all means," exclaimed Mr.
Billings, who was troubled with a perpetual thirst.

"Come, mo , Mrs. Jones, I mean: you're fond of a

glass of cold punch, you know ; and the rum here is prime,
I can tell you."

The lady in the mask consented with some difficulty to
the proposal of Mr. Billings, and was led by the two gen-
tlemen into an arbour, where she was seated between them ;
and some wax candles being lighted, punch was brought.

She drank one or two glasses very eagerly, and so did
her two companions, although it was evident to see, from
the flushed looks of both of them, that they had little need
of any such stimulus. The count, in the midst of his
champagne, it must be said, had been amazingly stricken
and scandalised by the appearance of such a youth as Bil-
lings in a public place, with a lady under his arm. He was,
the reader will therefore understand, in the moral stage of
liquor ; and when he issued out, it was not merely with the
intention of examining Mr. Billings' s female companion,
but of administering to him some sound correction for ven-
turing, at his early period of life, to form any such ac-
quaintances. On joining Billings, his excellency's first
step was naturally to examine the lady. After they had
been sitting for a while over their punch, he bethought him
of his original purpose, and began to address a number of
moral remarks to his son.

We have already given some specimens of Monsieur de
Galgenstein's sober conversation; and it is hardly neces-
sary to trouble the reader with any further reports of his
speeches. They were intolerably stupid and dull j as eg-

156 CATHERINE: A STORY.

otistical as his morning lecture had been, and a hundred
times more rambling and prosy. If Cat had been in the
possession of her sober senses, she would have seen in five
minutes that her ancient lover was a ninny, and have left
him with scorn ; but she was under the charm of old recol-
lections, and the sound of that silly voice was to her mag-
ical. As for Mr. Billings, he allowed his excellency to
continue his prattle, only frowning, yawning, cursing, oc-
casionally, but drinking continually.

So the count descanted at length upon the enormity of
young Billings' s early liaisons; and then he told his own,
in the year six, with a burgomaster's daughter at Katis-
bon, when he was in the Elector of Bavaria's service —
then, after Blenheim, when he had come over to the Duke
of Marlborough, when a physician's wife at Bonn poisoned
herself for him, etc. etc. ; of a piece with the story of the
canoness, which had been recorded before. All the tales
were true. A clever, ugly man every now and then is suc-
cessful with the ladies ; but a handsome fool is irresistible.
Mrs. Cat listened and listened. Good heavens! she had
heard all these tales before, and recollected the place and
the time — how she was hemming a handkerchief for Max,
who came round and kissed her, vowing that the physi-
cian's wife was nothing compared to her — how he was
tired, and lying on the sofa, just come home from shoot-
ing. How handsome he looked ! Cat thought he was only
the handsomer now ; and looked more grave and thought-
ful, the dear fellow !

The garden was filled with a vast deal of company of all
kinds, and parties were passing every moment before the
arbour where our trio sat. About half an hour after his
excellency had quitted his own box and party, the Eev.
Mr. O' Flaherty came discreetly round, to examine the pro-
ceedings of his diplomatical chef. The lady in the mask
was listening with all her might ; Mr. Billings was draw-
ing figures on the table with punch ; and the count talking
incessantly. The father-confessor listened for a moment;
and then, with something resembling an oath, walked away

CATHERINE. A STORY. 157

to the entry of the gardens, where his excellency's gilt
coach, with three footmen, was waiting to carry him back
to London. " Get me a chair, Joseph," said his reverence,
who infinitely preferred a seat, gratis, in the coach : " that
fool," muttered he, "will not move for this hour." The
reverend gentleman knew that, when the count was on the
subject of the physician's wife, his discourses were intoler-
ably long ; and took upon himself, therefore, to disappear,
along with the rest of the count's party, who procured
other conveyances, and returned to their homes.

After this quiet shadow had passed before the count's
box, many groups of persons passed and repassed; and
among them was no other than Mrs. Polly Briggs, to whom
we have been introduced in the morning. Mrs. Polly was
in company with one or two other ladies, and leaning on
the arm of a gentleman, with large shoulders and calves, a
tierce cock to his hat, and a shabby genteel air. His name
was Mr. Moffat, and his present occupation was that of
doorkeeper at a gambling-house in Covent Garden j where,
though he saw many thousands pass daily under his eyes,
his own salary amounted to no more than f our-and-sixpence
weekly, — a sum quite insufficient to maintain him in the
rank which he held.

Mr. Moffat, had, however, received some funds-
amounting, indeed, to a matter of twelve guineas — within
the last month, and was treating Mrs. Briggs very gener-
ously to the concert. It may be a& well to say, that every
one of the twelve guineas had come out of Mrs. Polly's
own pocket, who, in return, had received them from Mr.
Billings ; and as the reader may remember that, on the day
of Tommy's first interview with his father, he had previ-
ously paid a visit to Mrs. Briggs, having under his arm a
pair of breeches, which Mrs. Briggs coveted: he should
now be informed that she desired these breeches, not for
pincushions, but for Mr. Moffat, who had long been in
want of a pair.

Having thus episodically narrated Mr. Moffat' s history,
let us state that he, his lady, and their friends, passed be-

158 CATHERINE: A STORY.

fore the count's arbour, joining in a melodious chorus, to a
song which one of the society, an actor of Betterton's, was
singing :

" 'Tis my will, when I'm dead, that no tear shall be shed,

No ' Hie Jacet ' be graved on my stone;
But pour o'er my ashes a bottle of red,
And say a good fellow is gone,
My brave boys 1
And say a good fellow is gone."

" My brave boys " was given with vast emphasis by the
party; Mr. Moffat growling it in a rich bass, and Mrs.
Briggs in a soaring treble. As to the notes, when quaver-
ing up to the skies, they excited various emotions among
the people in the gardens. " Silence them blackguards ! "
shouted a barber, who was taking a pint of small-beer
along with his lady. " Stop that there infernal screech-
ing! " said a couple of ladies, who were sipping ratafia in
company with two pretty fellows.

"Dang it, it's Polly!" said Mr. Tom Billings, bolting
out of the box, and rushing towards the sweet-voiced Mrs.
Briggs. When he reached her, which he did quickly, and
made his arrival known by tipping Mrs. Briggs slightly
on the waist, and suddenly bouncing down before her and
her friend, both of the latter drew back somewhat startled.

" Law, Mr. Billings ! " says Mrs. Polly, rather coolly,
" is it you? Who thought of seeing you here? "

"Who's this here young feller?" says towering Mr.
Moffat, with his bass voice.

"It's Mr. Billings, cousin, a friend of mine," said Mrs.
Polly, beseechingly.

"Oh, cousin, if it's a friend of yours, he should know
better how to conduct himself, that's all. Har you a danc-
ing-master, young feller, that you cut them there capers
before gentlemen? " growled Mr. Moffat, who hated Mr.
Billings, for the excellent reason that he lived upon him.

" Dancing-master be hanged ! " said Mr. Billings, with
becoming spirit: "if you call me dancing-master, I'll pull
your nose."

CATHERINE: A STORY. 159

" What ! " roared Mr. Moffat, " pull iny nose? My nose !
I'll tell you what, my lad, if you durst move me, I'll cut
your throat, curse me ! "

" Oh, Moffy — cousin, I mean — 'tis a shame to treat the
poor boy so. Go away, Tommy, do go away; my cousin's
in liquor," whimpered Madam Briggs, who really thought
that the great doorkeeper would put his threat into execu-
tion.

" Tommy ! " said Mr. Moffat, frowning horribly ; " Tom-
my to me too? Dog, get out of my ssss " sight was the

word which Mr. Moffat intended to utter ; but he was in-
terrupted, for, to the astonishment of his friends and him-
self, Mr. Billings did actually make a spring at the mon-
ster's nose, and caught it so firmly, that the latter could
not finish his sentence.

The operation was performed with amazing celerity;
and, having concluded it, Mr. Billings sprung back, and
whisked from out its sheath that new silver-hilted sword
which his mamma had given him. "Now," said he with
a fierce kind of calmness, "now for the throat-cutting
cousin : I'm your man ! "

How the brawl might have ended, no one can say, had
the two gentlemen actually crossed swords ; but Mrs. Polly,
with a wonderful presence of mind, restored peace, by ex-
claiming, " Hush, hush ! the beaks, the beaks ! " Upon
vhich, with one common instinct, the whole party made a
rush for the garden gates, and disappeared into the fields.
Mrs. Briggs knew her company : there was something in
the very name of a constable which sent them all a-flying.

After running a reasonable time, Mr. Billings stopped.
But the great Moffat was nowhere to be seen, and Polly
Briggs had likewise vanished. Then Tom bethought him
that he would go back to his mother ; but, arriving at the
gate of the gardens, was refused admittance, as he had
not a shilling in his pocket. "I've left," says Tommy,
giving himself the airs of a gentleman, "some friends
in the gardens. I'm with his excellency the Bavarian
henvy."

160 CATHERINE: A STORY.

" Then you had better go away with him," said the gate
people.

" But I tell you I left him there, in the grand circle,
with a lady, and, what's more, in the dark walk, I have
left a silver-hilted sword."

"Oh, my lord, I'll go and tell him, then," cried one of
the porters, "if you will wait."

Mr. Billings seated himself on a post near the gate, and
there consented to remain until the return of his messen-
ger. The latter went straight to the dark walk, and found
the sword, sure enough. But, instead of returning it to
its owner, this discourteous knight broke the trenchant
blade at the hilt; and flinging the steel away, pocketed the
baser silver metal, and lurked off by the private door con-
secrated to the waiters and fiddlers.

In the meantime Mr. Billings waited and waited. And
what was the conversation of his worthy parents inside the
garden? I cannot say ; but one of the waiters declared,
that he had served the great foreign count with two bowls
of rack-punch, and some biscuits, in No. 3 : that in the box
with him were first a young gentleman, who went away,
and a lady, splendidly dressed and masked : that when the
lady and his lordship were alone, she edged away to the
farther end of the table, and they had much talk : that at
last, when his grace had pressed her very much, she took
off her mask, and said, " Don't you know me now, Max? "
that he cried out, " My own Catherine, thou art more beau-
tiful than ever ! " and wanted to kneel down and vow
eternal love to her ; but she begged him not to do so in a
place where all the world would see ; that then his high-
ness paid, and they left the gardens, the lady pulling on
her mask again.

When they issued from the gardens, " Ho ! Joseph La
Rose, my coach!" shouted his excellency, in rather a
husky voice ; and the men who had been waiting came up
with the carriage. A young gentleman, who was dozing on
one of the posts at the entry, woke up suddenly at the
blaze of the torches and the noise of the footmen. The

CATHERINE: A STORY. 161

count gave his arm to the lady in the mask, who slipped
in ; and he was whispering La Rose, when the lad who had
been sleeping hit his excellency on the shoulder, and said,
"I say, count, you can give me a cast home too," and
jumped into the coach.

When Catherine saw her son, she threw herself into his
arms, and kissed him with a burst of hysterical tears, of
which Mr. Billings was at a loss to understand the mean-
ing. The count joined them, looking not a little discon-
certed ; and the pair were landed at their own door, where
stood Mr. Hayes, in his nightcap, ready to receive them,
and astounded at the splendour of the equipage in which
his wife returned to him.

162 CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTER XL

OP SOME DOMESTIC QUARRELS, AND THE CONSE-
QUENCE THEREOF.

AN ingenious magazine-writer, who lived in the time of
Mr. Brock and the Duke of Marlborough, compared the
latter gentleman's conduct in battle, when he

"In peaceful thought the field of death surveyed,
To fainting squadrons lent the timely aid ;
Inspired repulsed battalions to engage,
And taught the doubtful battle where to rage " —

Mr. Joseph Addison, I say, compared the Duke of Marl-
borough to an angel, who is sent by Divine command to
chastise a guilty people —

"And pleased his Master's orders to perform,
Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm. "

The four first of these novel lines touch off the duke's dis-
position and genius to a tittle. He had a love for such
scenes of strife : in the midst of them his spirit rose calm
and supreme, soaring (like an angel or not, but any way
the compliment is a very pretty one) on the battle-clouds
majestic, and causing to ebb or to flow the mighty tide of
war.

But as this famous simile might apply with equal pro-
priety to a bad angel as to a good one, it may in like man-
ner be employed to illustrate small quarrels as well as
great — a little family squabble, in which two or three peo-
ple are engaged, as well as a vast national dispute, argued
on each side by the roaring throats of five hundred angry
cannon. The poet means, in fact, that the Duke of Marl-
borough had an immense genius for mischief.

Our friend Brock, or Wood (whose actions we love to

CATHERINE: A STORY. 163

illustrate by the very handsomest similes), possessed this
genius in common with his grace ; and was never so happy,
or seen to so much advantage, as when he was employed
in setting people by the ears. His spirits, usually dull,
then rose into the utmost gaiety and good-humour. When
the doubtful battle flagged, he by his art would instantly
restore it. When, for instance, Tom's repulsed battalions
of rhetoric fled from his mamma's fire, a few words of apt
sneer or encouragement on Wood's part would bring the
fight round again ; or when Mr. Hayes's fainting squadrons
of abuse broke upon the stubborn squares of Tom's bris-
tling obstinacy, it was Wood's delight to rally the former,
and bring him once more to the charge. A great share
had this man in making those bad people worse. Many
fierce words and bad passions, many falsehoods and knav-
eries on Tom's part, much bitterness, scorn, and jealousy,
on the part of Hayes and Catherine, might be attributed to
this hoary old tempter, whose joy and occupation it was to
raise and direct the domestic storms and whirlwinds of the
family of which he was a member. And do not let us be
accused of an undue propensity to use sounding words, be-
cause we compare three scoundrels in the Tyburn Road to
so many armies, and Mr. Wood to a mighty field-marshal.
My dear sir, when you have well studied the world, how
supremely great the meanest thing in this world is, and
how infinitely mean the greatest, I am mistaken if you do
not make a strange and proper jumble of the sublime and
the ridiculous, the lofty and the low. I have looked at
the world, for my part, and come to the conclusion that I
know not which is which.

Well, then, on the night when Mrs. Hayes, as recorded
by us, had been to the Marylebone Gardens, Mr. Wood
had found the sincerest enjoyment in plying her husband
with drink, so that, when Catherine arrived at home, Mr.
Hayes came forward to meet her in a manner which showed
that he was not only surly but drunk. Tom stepped out
of the coach first; and Hayes asked him, with an oath,
where he had been? The oath Mr. Billings sternly flung

164 CATHERINE: A STORY.

back again (with another in its company), and at the same
time refused to give his stepfather any sort of answer to
his query.

"The old man is drunk, mother," said he to Mrs. Hayes,
as he handed that lady out of the coach (before leaving
which she had to withdraw her hand rather violently from
the grasp of the count, who was inside). Hayes instantly
showed the correctness of his surmise by slamming the
door courageously in Tom's face, when he attempted to
enter the house with his mother. And when Mrs. Cath-
erine remonstrated, according to her wont, in a very angry
and supercilious tone, Mr. Hayes replied with equal
haughtiness, and a regular quarrel ensued.

People were accustomed in those days to use much more
simple and expressive terms of language than are now
thought polite ; and it would be dangerous to give, in this
present year 1840, the exact words of reproach which
passed between Hayes and his wife in 1726. Mr. Wood
sat near, laughing his sides out. Mr. Hayes swore that
his wife should not go abroad to tea-gardens in search of
vile Popish noblemen ; to which Mrs. Hayes replied, that
Mr. Hayes was a pitiful, lying, sneaking cur, and that she
would go where she pleased. Mr. Hayes rejoined, that if
she said much more he would take a stick to her. Mr.
Brock whispered, "And serve her right." Mrs. Hayes
thereupon swore, she had stood his cowardly blows once or
twice before, but that if ever he did so again, as sure as
she was born she would stab him. Mr. Brock said, " Curse
him, but he liked her spirit."

Mr. Hayes took another line of argument, and said,
"The neighbours would talk, madam."

"Ay, that they will, no doubt," said Mr. Wood.

"Then let them," said Catherine. "What do we care
about the neighbours? Didn't the neighbours talk when
you sent widow Wilkins to gaol? Didn't the neighbours
talk when you levied on poor old Thomson? You didn't
mind then, Mr. Hayes."

"Business, ma'am, is business; and if I did distrain on

CATHERINE: A STORY. 165

Thomson, and lock up Wilkins, I think you knew about it
as much as I."

"T faith, I believe you're a pair," said Mr. Wood.

"Pray, sir, keep your tongue to yourself. Your opinion
isn't asked, anyhow — no, nor your company wanted nei-
ther," cried Mrs. Catherine, with proper spirit.

At which remark Mr* Wood only whistled.

" I have asked this here gentleman to pass this evening
along with me. We've been drinking together, ma'am."

"That we have," said Mr. Wood, looking at Mrs. Cat
with the most perfect good-humour.

"I say, ma'am, that we've been a-drinking together;
and when we've been a-drinking together, I say that a man
is my friend. Dr. Wood is my friend, madam — the Rev.
Dr. Wood. We've passed the evening in company, talk-
ing about politics, madam — politics and riddle-iddle-igion.
We've not been flaunting in tea-gardens, and ogling the
men."

"It's a lie! " shrieked Mrs. Hayes: "I went with Tom
— you know I did; the boy wouldn't let me rest till I
promised to go. "

"Hang him, I hate him," said Mr. Hayes: "he's al-
ways in my way."

"He's the only friend I have in the world, and the only
being I care a pin for," said Catherine.

"He's an impudent, idle, good-for-nothing scoundrel,
and I hope to see him hanged ! " shouted Mr. Hayes.
"And pray, madam, whose carriage was that as you came
home in? I warrant you paid something for the ride — Ha,
ha ! "

" Another lie ! " screamed Cat, and clutched hold of a

supper-knife. " Say it again, John Hayes, and, by ,

I'll do for you."

"Do for me? Hang me," said Mr. Hayes, flourishing a
stick, and perfectly pot-valiant, " do you think I care for
a bastard and a "

He did not finish the sentence, for the woman ran at
him like a savage, knife in hand. He bounded back, fling-

166 CATHERINE: A STORY.

ing his arms about wildly, and struck her with his staff
sharply across the forehead. The woman went down in-
stantly. A lucky blow was it for Hayes and her : it saved
him from death, perhaps, and her from murder.

All this scene — a very important one of our drama —
might have been described at much greater length ; but, in
truth, the author has a natural horror of dwelling too long
upon such hideous spectacles, nor would the reader be
much edified by a full and accurate knowledge of what
took place. The quarrel, however, though not more violent
than many that had previously taken place between Hayes
and his wife, was about to cause vast changes in the condi-
tion of this unhappy pair.

Hayes was at the first moment of his victory very much
alarmed ; he feared that he had killed the woman ; and
Wood started up rather anxiously too, with the same fancy.
But she soon began to recover. Water was brought ; her
head was raised and bound up ; and in a short time Mrs.
Catherine gave vent to a copious fit of tears, which relieved
her somewhat. These did not affect Hayes much — they
rather pleased him, for he saw he had got the better ; and
although Cat fiercely turned upon him when he made some
small attempt towards reconciliation, he did not heed her
anger, but smiled and winked in a self-satisfied way at
Wood. The coward was quite proud of his victory ; and
finding Catherine asleep, or apparently so, when he fol-
lowed her to bed, speedily gave himself up to slumber too,
and had some pleasant dreams to his portion.

Mr. Wood also went sniggering and happy upstairs to
his chamber. The quarrel had been a real treat to him ; it
excited the old man — tickled him into good-humour ; and
he promised himself a rare continuation of the fun when
Tom should be made acquainted with the circumstances of
the dispute. As for his excellency the count, the ride from
Marylebone Gardens, and a tender squeeze of the band
which Catherine permitted to him on parting, had so in-
flamed the passions of the nobleman, that after sleeping
for nine hours, and taking his chocolate as usual the next

CATHERINE: A STORY. 167

morning, he actually delayed to read the newspaper, and
kept waiting a toy-shop lady from Cornhill (with the
sweetest bargain of mechlin lace), in order to discourse to
his chaplain on the charms of Mrs.. Hayes.

She, poor thing, never closed her lids, except when she
would have had Mr. Hayes imagine that she slumbered ;
but lay beside him, tossing and tumbling, with hot eyes
wide open, and heart thumping, and pulse of a hundred
and ten, and heard the heavy hours tolling ; and at last the
day came peering, haggard, through the window-curtains,
and found her still wakeful and wretched.

Mrs. Hayes had never been, as we have seen, especially
fond of her lord; but now as the day made visible to her
the sleeping figure and countenance of that gentleman, she
looked at him with a contempt and loathing such as she
had never felt even in all the years of her wedded life.
Mr. Hayes was snoring profoundly ; by his bedside, on his
ledger, stood a large, greasy tin candlestick, containing a
lank tallow-candle, turned down in the shaft ; and in the
lower part his keys, purse, and tobacco-pipe ; his feet were
huddled up in his greasy, threadbare clothes ; his head and
half his sallow face muffled up in a red woollen nightcap ;
his beard was of several days* growth ; his mouth was wide
open, and he was snoring profoundly : on a more despicable
little creature the sun never shone. And to this sordid
wretch was Catherine united for ever. What a pretty ras-
cal history might be read in yonder greasy daybook, which
never left the miser! — he never read in any other. Of
what a treasure were yonder keys and purse the keepers!
not a shilling they guarded but was picked from the pocket
of necessity, plundered from needy wantonness, or piti-
lessly squeezed from starvation. "A fool, a miser, and a
coward! Why was I bound to this wretch?" thought
Catherine; "I, who am high-spirited and beautiful (did
not he tell me so?) ; I who, born a beggar, have raised my-
self to competence, and might have mounted — who knows
whither? — if cursed fortune had not balked me ! "

As Mrs. Cat did not utter these sentiments, but only

& Vol. 13

168 CATHERINE: A 8TORY

thought them, we have a right to clothe her thoughts in
the genteelest possible language ; and, to the best of our
power, have done so. If the reader examines Mrs. Hayes's
train of reasoning, he will not, we should think, fail to
perceive how ingeniously she managed to fix all the wrong
upon her husband, and yet to twist oat some consolatory
arguments for her own vanity. This perverse argumenta-
tion we have all of us, no doubt, employed in our time.
How often have we, — we poets, politicians, philosophers,
family men, — found charming excuses for our own rascali-
ties in the monstrous wickedness of the world about us;
how loudly have we abused the times and our neighbours !
All this devil's logic did Mrs. Catherine, lying wakeful in
her bed, on the night of the Mary bone f§te, exert in
gloomy triumph.

It must, however, be confessed, that nothing could be
more just than Mrs. Hayes's sense of her husband's scoun-
drelisin and meanness j for, if we have not proved these in
the course of this history, we have proved nothing. Mrs.
Cat had a shrewd, observing mind; and if she wanted for
proofs against Hayes, she had but to look before and about
her to find them. This amiable pair were lying in a large
walnut bed, with faded silk furniture, which had been
taken from under a respectable old invalid widow, who
had become security for a prodigal son ; the room was hung
round with an antique tapestry (representing Rebecca at the
Well, Bathsheba Bathing, Judith and Holofernes, and
other subjects from Holy Writ), which had been many
score times sold for fifty pounds, and bought back by Mr.
Hayes for two, in those accommodating bargains which he
made with young gentlemen, who received fifty pounds of
money and fifty of tapestry in consideration of their hun-
dred-pound bills. Against this tapestry, and just cutting
off Holofernes's head, stood an enormous ominous black
clock, the spoil of some other usurious transaction. Some
chairs, and a dismal old black cabinet, completed the fur-
niture of this apartment : it wanted but a ghost to render
its gloom complete.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 169

Mrs. Hayes sate up in the bed sternly regarding her hus-
band. There is, be sure, a strong magnetic; influence in
wakeful eyes so examining a sleeping person (do not you,
as a boy, remember waking of bright summer mornings
and finding your mother looking over you? had not the gaze
of her tender eyes stolen into your senses long before you
woke, and cast over your slumbering spirit a sweet spell of
peace, and love, and fresh-springing joy ?) — some such in-
fluence had Catherine's looks upon her husband; for, as
he slept under them, the man began to writhe about un-
easily, and to burrow his head in the pillow, and to utter
quick, strange moans and cries, such as have often jarred
one's ear, while watching at the bed of the feverish sleeper.
It was just upon six, and presently the clock began to utter
those dismal grinding sounds, which issue from clocks at
such periods, and which sound like the death-rattle of the
departing hour. Then the bell struck the knell of it ; and
with this Mr. Hayes awoke, and looked up, and saw Cath-
erine gazing at him.

Their eyes met for an instant, and Catherine turned away
burning red, and looking as if she had been caught in the
commission of a crime.

A kind of blank terror seized upon old Hayes's soul; a
horrible icy fear, and presentiment of coming evil : and yet
the woman had but looked at him. He thought rapidly
over the occurrences of the last night, the quarrel, and the
end of it. He had often struck her before when angry,
and heaped all kinds of bitter words upon her ; but, in the
morning, she bore no malice, and the previous quarrel was
forgotten, or, at least, passed over. Why should the last
night's dispute not have the same end? Hayes calculated
all this, and tried to smile.

"I hope we're friends, Cat?" said he. "You know I
was in liquor last night, and sadly put out by the loss of
that fifty pound. They'll ruin me, dear — J know they
will."

Mrs. Hayes did not answer.

"I should like to see the country again, dear," said he,

170 CATHERINE: A STORY.

in his most wheedling way. " I've a mind, do you know,
to call in all our money. It's you who've made every
farthing of it, that's sure; and it's a matter of two thou-
sand pound by this time. Suppose we go into Stafford-
shire, Cat, and buy a farm, and live genteel. Shouldn't
you like to live a lady in your own county again? How
they'd stare at Birmingham? hey, Gat? "

And with this Mr. Hayes made a motion, as if he would
seize his wife's hand, but she flung his back again.

" Coward! " said she, " you want liquor to give you cour-
age, and then you've only heart enough to strike women."

"It was only in self-defence, my dear," said Hayes,
whose courage was all gone. " You tried, you know, to —

" To stab you j and I wish I had ! " said Mrs. Hayes,
setting her teeth, and glaring at him like a demon ; and so
saying, she sprung out of bed. There was a great stain of
blood on her pillow. "Look at it," said she; "that
blood's of your shedding! " and at this Hayes fairty began
to weep, so utterly downcast and frightened was the miser-
able man. The wretch's tears only inspired his wife with
a still greater rage and loathing ; she cared not so much
for the blow, but she hated the man ; the man to whom
she was tied for ever, for ever! The bar between her and
wealth, happiness, love, rank, perhaps. " If I were free,"
thought Mrs. Hayes (the thought had been sitting at her
pillow all night, and whispering ceaselessly into her ear) —
"if I were free, Max would marry me; I know he would —
he said so yesterday ! "

*****

As if by a kind of intuition, old Wood seemed to read
all this woman's thoughts; for he said that day with a
sneer, that he would wager she was thinking how much
better it would be to be a count's lady than a poor miser's
wife. "And faith," said he, "a count and a chariot-and-
six is better than an old skinflint with a cudgel ! " And
then he asked her if her head was better, and supposed
that she was used to beating, and cut sundry other jokes,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 171

which made the poor wretch's wounds of mind and body
feel a thousand times sorer.

Tom, too, was made acquainted with the dispute, and
swore his accustomed vengeance against his stepfather.-
Such feelings, Wood, with a dexterous malice, would never
let rest; it was his joy, at first quite a disinterested one,
to goad Catherine, and to frighten Hayes; though, in
truth, that unfortunate creature had no occasion for incite-
ments from without, to keep up the dreadful state of terror
and depression into which he had fallen.

For from the morning after the quarrel, the horrible
words and looks of Catherine never left Hayes's memory;
but a cold fear followed him — a 'dreadful prescience. He
strove to overcome this fate as a coward would — to kneel
to it for compassion — to coax and wheedle it into forgive-
ness. He was slavishly gentle to Catherine, and bore her
fierce taunts with mean resignation. He trembled before
young Billings, who was now established in the house (his
mother said to protect her against the violence of her hus-
band), and suffered his brutal language and conduct with-
out venturing to resist.

The young man and his mother lorded over the house ;
he hardly dared to speak in their presence; seldom sat
with the family except at meals ; but slipped away to his
chamber (he slept apart now from his wife), or passed the
evening at the public-house, where he was constrained to
drink — to spend some of his beloved sixpences for drink!

And, of course, the neighbours began to say, "John
Hayes neglects his wife ; " " He tyrannises over her, and
beats her ; " " Always at the public-house, leaving an hon-
est woman alone at home ! "

The unfortunate wretch did not hate his wife. He was
used to her — fond of her as much as he could be fond —
sighed to be friends with her again — repeatedly would creep,
whimpering, to Wood's room, when the latter was alone, and
beg him to bring about a reconciliation They were recon-
ciled as much as ever they could be. The woman looked at
him, thought what she might be but for him, and scorned

172 CATHERINE: A STORY.

and loathed him with a feeling that almost amounted to in-
sanity. What nights she lay awake, weeping and cursing
herself and him ! His humility and beseeching looks only
made him more despicable and hateful to her.

If Hayes did not hate the mother, however, he hated the
boy— hated and feared him dreadfully. He would have
poisoned him if he had had the courage ; but he dared not :
he dared not even look at him as he sate there, the master
of the house, in insolent triumph. 0 God! how the lad's
brutal laughter rung in Hayes's ears; and how the stare of
his fierce, bold, black eyes pursued him ! Of a truth, if Mr.
Wood loved mischief, as he did, honestly and purely for
mischief's sake, he had enough here. There was mean
malice, and fierce scorn, and black revenge, and sinful
desire, boiling up in the hearts of these wretched people,
enough to content Mr, Wood's great master himself.

Hayes's business, as we have said, was nominally that
of a carpenter ; but since, for the last few years, he had
added to it that of a lender of money, the carpenter's trade
had been neglected altogether for one so much more profit-
able. Mrs. Hayes had exerted herself, with much benefit
to her husband, in his usurious business. She was a reso-
lute, clear-sighted, keen woman, that did not love money,
but loved to be rich and push her way in the world. She
would have nothing to do with the trade now, however,
and told her husband to manage it himself. She felt that
she was separated from him for ever, and could no more
be brought to consider her interests as connected with his
own.

The man was well fitted for the creeping and niggliog
of his dastardly trade; and gathered his moneys, and
busied himself with his lawyer, and acted as his own book-
keeper and clerk, not without satisfaction. His wife's
speculations, when they worked in concert, used often to
frighten him. He never sent out his capital without a
pang, and only because he dared not question her superior
judgment and will. He began now to lend no more ; he
could not let the money out of his sight. His sole pleasure

CATHERINE: A STORY. 173

was to creep up into his room, and count and recount it.
When Billings came into the house, Hayes had taken a
room next to that of Wood. It was a protection to him,
for Wood would often rebuke the lad for using Hayes ill ;
and both Catherine and Tom treated the old man with def-
erence.

At last — it was after he had collected a good deal of his
money — Hayes began to reason with himself, " Why should
I stay? — stay to be insulted by that boy, or murdered by
him? He is ready for any crime." He determined to fly.
He would send Catherine money every year. No — she had
the furniture; let her let lodgings — that would support
her. He would go, and live away, abroad in some cheap
place — away from that boy and his horrible threats The
idea of freedom was agreeable to the poor wretch ; and he
began to wind up his affairs as quickly as he could.

Hayes would now allow no one to make his bed or enter
his room ; and Wood could hear him through the panels
fidgeting perpetually to and fro, opening and shutting of
chests, and clinking of coin. At the least sound he would
start up, and would go to Billings' s door and listen.
Wood used to hear him creeping through the passages,
and returning stealthily to his own chamber.

One day the woman and her son had been angrily taunt-
ing him in the presence of a neighbour The neighbour
retired soon ; and Hayes, who had gone with him to the
door, heard, on returning, the voice of Wood in the par-
lour. The old man laughed in his usual saturnine way,
and said, " Have a care, Mrs. Cat, for if Hayes were to
die suddenly, by the Laws, the neighbours would accuse
thee of his death."

Hayes started as if he had been shot. " He too is in the
plot," thought he. "They are all leagued against me;
they will kill me; they are only biding their time." Fear
seized him, and he thought of flying that instant and leav-
ing all ; and he stole into his room and gathered his money
together. But only a half of it was there ; in a few weeks
all would have come in. He had not the heart to go. But

174 CATHERINE: A STORY.

that night Wood heard Hayes pause at his door, before he
went to listen at Mrs. Catherine's. " What is the man
thinking of?" said Wood. "He is gathering his money
together. Has he a hoard yonder unknown to us all? "

Wood thought he would watch him. There was a closet
between the two rooms : Wood bored a hole in the panel,
and peeped through. Hayes had a brace of pistols, and
four or five little bags before him on the table* One of
these he opened, and placed, one by one, five-and-twenty
guineas into it. Such a sum had been due that day —
Catherine spoke of it only in the morning; for the debtor's
name had by chance been mentioned in the conversation.
Hayes commonly kept but a few guineas in the house.
For what was he amassing all these? The next day, Wood
asked for change for a twenty-pound bill. Hayes said he
had but three guineas ; and when asked by Catherine where
the money was that was paid the day before, said that it
was at the banker's. "The man is going to fly," said
Wood; "that is sure: if he does, I know him — he will
leave his wife without a shilling. "

He watched him for several days regularly : two or
three more bags were added to the former number.
"They are pretty things, guineas," thought Wood, "and
tell no tales, like bank-bills." And he thought over the
days when he and Macshane used to ride abroad in search
of them.

I don't know what thoughts entered into Mr Wood's
brain; but the next day, after seeing young Billings, to
whom he actually made a present of a guinea, that young
man, in conversing with his mother, said, " Do you know,
mother, that if you were free, and married the count, I
should be a lord! It's the German law, Mr. Wood says;
and you know he was in them countries with Marl-
borough."

"Ay, that he would," said Mr. Wood, "in Germany:
but Germany isn't England; and it's no use talking of
such things."

"Hush, child," said Mrs, Hayes, quite eagerly: "how

CATHERINE: A STORY. 176

can J marry the count? Besides, a'n't I married, and isn't
lie too great a lord for me? "

"Too great a lord? — not a whit,- mother. If it wasn't
for Hayes, I might be a lord now. He gave me five
guineas only last week ; but curse the skinflint who never
will part with a shilling."

• "It's not so bad as his striking your mother, Tom; I.
had my stick up, and was ready to fell him t'other night,"
added Mr. Wood. And herewith he smiled, and looked
steadily in Mrs. Catherine's face. : She dared not look
again ; but she felt that the old man knew a secret that she
had been trying to hide from herself. Eool! he knew it;
and Hayes knew it dimly : and never, never, since that day
of the gala, had it left her, sleeping or waking. When
Hayes, in his fear, had proposed to sleep away from ;her,
she started with joy: she had been afraid that she, might
talk in her sleep, and so let slip her horrible confession!

Old Wood knew all her history since the period of the
Mary bone fete. He had wormed it out of her, day by day ;
he had counselled her how to act ; warned her not to yield;
to procure, at least, a certain provision for her son, and a
handsome settlement for herself, if she determined on quit-
ting her husband. The old man looked on the business in
a proper philosophical light, told her bluntly that he saw she
was bent upon going off with the count, and bade her take
precautions ; else she might be left as she had been before.

Catherine denied all these charges, but she saw the count
daily, notwithstanding, and took all the measures which
Wood had recommended to her. -. They were very prudent
ones: Galgenstein grew hourly more in love; never had
he felt such a flame, not in the best days of his youth ; not
for the fairest princess, countess, or actress, from Vienna
to Paris.

At length — it was the night after he had seen Hayes
counting his money-bags — old Wood spoke to Mrs. Hayes
very seriously. "That husband of yours, Cat," said he,
"meditates some treason; ay, and fancies we are about
such. He listens nightly at your door and at mine; he is

176 CATHERINE: A STORY.

going to leave you, be sure on't ; and if he leaves you, he
leaves you to starve."

" I can be rich elsewhere," said Mrs. Cat.

" What, with Max? "

" Ay, with Max, and why not? " said Mrs. Hayes.

" Why not, fool ! Do you recollect Birmingham ? Do
you think that Galgenstein, who is so tender now because
he hasn't won you, will be faithful because he has?
Pshaw, woman, men are not made so ! Don't go to him
until you are sure; if you were a widow now, he would
marry you; but never leave yourself at his mercy; if you
were to leave your husband to go to him, he would desert
you in a fortnight ! "

She might have been a countess ! she knew she might,
but for this cursed barrier between her and her fortune.
Wood knew what she was thinking of, and smiled grimly.

"Besides," he continued, "remember Tom. As sure as
you leave Hayes without some security from Max, the
boy's ruined; he who might be a lord, if his mother had
but— — Pshaw! never mind; that boy will go on the
road, as sure as my name's Wood. He's a Turpin-cock in
his eye, my dear, — a regular Tyburn look. He knows too
many of that sort already, and is too fond of a bottle and
a girl to resist and be honest when it comes to the pinch."

"It's all true," says Mrs. Hayes; "Tom's a high met-
tlesome fellow, and would no more mind a ride on Houns-
low Heath than he does a walk now in the Mall."

"Do you want him hanged, my dear? " said Wood.

"Ah, doctor!"

"It is a pity, and that's sure," concluded Mr. Wood,
knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and closing this inter-
esting conversation. " It is a pity that that old skinflint
should be in the way of both your fortunes ; and he about
to fling you over, too ! "

Mrs. Catherine retired musing, as Mr. Billings had
previously done ; a sweet smile of contentment lighted up
the venerable features of Doctor Wood, ami he walked
abroad into the streets as happy a fellow as any in London.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 177

CHAPTER XII.

TREATS OF LOVE, AND PREPARES FOR DEATH.

AND to begin this chapter, we cannot do better than
quote a part of a letter from M. PAbbd 0' Flaherty to
Madame la Comtesse de X at Paris : —

" MADAM, — The little Arouet de Voltaire, who hath come
' hither to take a turn in England/ as I see by the post of
this morning, hath brought me a charming pacquet from
your ladyship's hands, which ought to render a reasonable
man happy; but, alas! makes your slave miserable. I
think of dear Paris (and something more dear than all
Paris, of which, madam, I may not venture to speak fur-
ther)— I think of dear Paris, and find myself in this dis-
mal Vitehall, where, when the fog clears up, I can catch a
glimpse of muddy Thames, and of that fatal palace which
the kings of England have been obliged to exchange for
your noble castle of Saint Germains, that stands so stately
by silver Seine. Truly, no bad bargain; for my part, I
would give my grand ambassadorial saloons, hangings,
gildings, feasts, valets, ambassadors and all, for a bicoque
in sight of the Thuilleries' towers, or my little cell in the
Irlandois.

" My last sheets have given you a pretty notion of our
ambassador's public doings ; now for a pretty piece of pri-
vate scandal respecting that great man. Figure to your-
self, madam, his excellency is in love; actually in love,
talking day and night about a certain fair one whom he
hath picked out of a gutter ; who is well-nigh forty years
old ; who was his mistress when he was in England a cap-
tain of dragoons, some sixty, seventy, or a hundred years
since ; who hath had a son by him, moreover, a sprightly

178 CATHERINE: A STORY.

lad, apprentice to a tailor of eminence that has the honour
of making his excellency's breeches.

" Since one fatal night when he met this fair creature at
a certain place of publique resort, called Mary bone Gar-
dens, our Cyrus hath been an altered creature. Love hath
mastered this brainless ambassador, and his antics afford,
me food for perpetual mirth. He sits now opposite to me
at a table, inditing a letter to his Catherine, and copying it
from — what do you think? — from the "Grand Cyrus." ' /
sivear, madam , that my happiness would be to offer you this
1iand9 as 1 have my heart long ago, and I beg you to bear in
mind this declaration.' I have just dictated to him the
above tender words; for our envoy, I need not tell you, is
not strong at writing or thinking.

"The fair Catherine, I must tell you, is no less than
a carpenter's wife, a well-to-do bourgeois, living at the
Tyburn, or Gallows Road. She found out her ancient lover
very soon after our arrival, and hath a marvellous hanker-
ing to be a count's lady. A pretty little creature is this
Madam Catherine. Billets, breakfasts, pretty walks, pres-
ents of silks and satins, pass daily between the pair; but,
strange to say, the lady is as virtuous as Diana, and hath
resisted all my count's cajoleries hitherto. The poor fellow
told me, with tears in his eyes, that he believed he should
have carried her by storm on the very first night of their
meeting, but that her son stepped into the way, and he or
somebody else hath been in the way ever since. Madam
will never appear alone. I believe it is this wonderful
chastity of the lady that has elicited this wondrous con-
stancy of the gentleman. She is holding out for a settle-
ment, who knows if not for a marriage? Her husband,
she says, is ailing; her lover is fool enough, and she her-
self conducts her negotiations, as I must honestly own, with
a pretty notion of diplomacy."

*****

This is the only part of the reverend gentleman's letter
that directly affects this history. The rest contains some
scandal concerning greater personages about the court j a

CATHERINE: A STORY. 179

great share of abuse of the Elector of Hanover, and a
pretty description of a boxing-match at Mr. Figg's amphi-
theatre in Oxford Road, where John Wells, of Edmund
Bury (as by the papers may be seen), master of the noble
science of self-defence, did ^ngage with Edward Sutton, of
Gravesend, master of the said science, and the issue of the
combat.

"N.B." (adds the father, in a postscript) — "Monsieur
Figue gives a hat to be cudgelled for before the Master
mount ; and the whole of this fashionable information hath
been given me by Monseigneur's son, Monsieur Billings,
gargon-tailleur , Chevalier de Galgenstein."

Mr. Billings was, in fact, a frequent visitor at the am-
bassador's house; to whose presence he, by a general order,
was always admitted. As for the connection between Mrs.
Catherine and her former admirer, the abbess history of it
is perfectly correct ; nor can it be said that this wretched
woman, whose tale now begins to wear a darker hue, was,
in anything but soul, faithless to her husband. But she
hated him, longed to leave him, and loved another; the
end was coming quickly, and every one of our unknowing
actors and actresses were to be implicated, more or less,
in the catastrophe.

It will be seen that Mrs. Cat .had followed pretty closely
the injunctions of Mr. Wood in regard to her dealings with
the count, who grew more heart-stricken and tender daily,
as the completion of his wishes was delayed, and his de-
sires goaded by contradiction. The abbe has quoted one
portion of a letter written by him ; here is the entire per-
formance, extracted, as the holy father said, chiefly from
the romance of the " Grand Cyrus " :—

" Unhappy MAXIMILIAN unto unjust CATHEBINA.
" MADAM — It must needs be that I love you better than
any ever did, since, notwithstanding your injustice in call-
ing me perfidious, I love you no less than I did before.
On the contrary, my passion is so violent, and your unjust

180 CATHERINE: A STORY.

accusation makes me so sensible of it, that if you did but
know the resentments of my soule, you would confess your
selfe the most cruell and unjust woman in the world. You
shall, ere long, madam, see me at your f eete ; and as you
were my first passion, so you will be my last.

"On my knees I will tell you, at the first handsom op-
portunity, that the grandure of my passion can only be
equalled by your beauty; it hath driven me to such a fatall
necessity, as that I cannot hide the misery which you have
caused. Sure, the hostil goddes have, to plague me, or-
dayned that fatal marridge, by which you are bound to one
so infinitly below you in degree. Were that bond of ill-
omind Hymen cut in twayn witch binds you, I swear,
madam, that my happiniss woulde be to offer you this
hande, as I have my harte long agoe. And I praye you to
beare in minde this declaration, which I here sign with my
hande, and witch I pray you may one day be called upon
to prove the truth on. Beleave me, madam, that there is
none in the world who doth more honor to your vertue than
myselfe, nor who wishes your happinesse with more zeal
than — MAXIMILIAN.

" From my lodgings in Whitehall, this 25th of February.

" To the incomparable Catkerina, these}
with a scarlet satten petticoat. "

The count had debated about the sentence promising mar-
riage in event of Hayes's death; but the honest abb6 cut
these scruples very short, by saying, justly, that, because
he wrote in that manner, there was no need for him to act
so ; that he had better not sign and address the note in full ;
and that he presumed his excellency was not quite so timid
as to fancy that the woman would follow him all the way
to Germany, when his diplomatic duties would be ended ;
as they would soon.

The receipt of this billet caused such a flush of joy and
exultation to unhappy happy Mrs. Catherine, that Wood
did not fail to remark it, and speedily learned the contents
of the letter. Wood had no need to bid the poor wretch

CATHERINE: A STORY. 181

guard it very carefully : it never from that day forth left
her; it was her title of nobility, — her pass to rank, wealth,
happiness. She began to look down on her neighbours ;
her manner to her husband grew more than ordinarily scorn-
ful ; the poor, vain wretch longed to tell her secret, and to
take her place openly in the world. She a countess, and
Tom a count's son! She felt that she should royally be-
come the title !

About this time — and Hayes was very much frightened
at the prevalence of the rumour — it suddenly began to be
bruited about in his quarter that he was going to quit the
country. The story was in everybody's mouth; people
used to sneer, when he turned pale, and wept, and passion-
ately denied it. It was said, too, that Mrs. Hayes was not
his wife, but his mistress — everybody had this story, — his
mistress, whom he treated most cruelly, and was about to
desert. The tale of the blow which had felled her to the
ground was known in all quarters. When he declared that
the woman tried to stab him, nobody believed him ; the
women said he would have been served right if she had
done so. How had these stories gone abroad? "Three
days more, and I m7Zfly," thought Hayes; " and the world
may say what it pleases."

Ay, fool, fly — away so swiftly, that Fate cannot overtake
thee; hide so cunningly, that Death shall not find thy
place of refuge !

182 CATHERINE : A STORY.

CHAPTER XIII.

BEING A PREPARATION FOR THE END.

THE reader, doubtless, doth now partly understand what
dark acts of conspiracy are beginning to gather around Mr.
Hayes ; and possibly hath comprehended,

1. That if the rumour was universally credited which
declared that Mrs. Catherine was only Hayes's mistress,
and not his wife,

She might, if she so inclined, marry another person,
and thereby not injure her fame, and excite wonderment,
but actually add to her reputation.

2. That if all the world did stedfastly believe that Mr.
Hayes intended to desert this woman, after having cruelly
maltreated her,

The direction which his journey might take would be of
no consequence ; and he might go to Highgate, to Edin-
burgh, to Constantinople, nay, down a well, and no soul
would care to ask whither he had gone.

These points Mr. Hayes had not considered duly. The
latter case had been put to him, and annoyed him, as we have
seen; the former had actually been pressed upon him by Mrs.
Hayes herself, who, in almost the only communication she
had had with him since their last- quarrel, had asked him,
angrily, in the presence of Wood and her son, whether he
had dared to utter such lies, and how it came to pass that
the neighbours looked scornfully at her, and avoided her?

To this charge Mr. Hayes pleaded, very meekly, that he
was not guilty; and young Billings, taking him by the col-
lar, and clinching his fist in his face, swore a dreadful oath
that he would have the life of him, if he dared abuse his
mother. Mrs. Hayes then spoke of the general report
abroad, that he was going to desert her ; which, if he at-
tempted to do, Mr. Billings vowed that he would follow
him to Jerusalem, and have his blood. These threats, and

CATHERINE: A STORY. 183

the insolent language of young Billings, rather calmed
Hayes than agitated him : he longed to be on his journey,
but he began to hope that no obstacle would be placed in
the way of it. For the first time since many days, he be-
gan to enjoy a feeling something akin to security, and could
look with tolerable confidence towards a comfortable com-
pletion of his own schemes of treason.

These points being duly settled, we are now arrived, 0
public, at a point, for which the author's soul hath been
yeaniing ever since this history commenced. We are now
come, O critic, to a stage of the work when this tale begins
to assume an appearance so interestingly horrific, that you
must have a heart of stone if you are not interested by it.
We are now prepared, O candid and discerning reader,
who art sick of the hideous scenes of brutal bloodshed
which have of late come forth from pens of certain eminent
wits, to give to the world a scene infinitely more brutal and
bloody than even the murder of Miss Nancy, or the death
of Sir Roland Trenchard ; if you turn away disgusted from
the book, remember that this passage hath not been written
for you, or such as you, who have taste to know and hate
the style in which it hath been composed; but for the
public, which hath no such taste, — for the public, which
can patronise four different representations of Jack Shep-
pard, — for the public, whom its literary providers have
gorged with blood, and foul Newgate garbage, — and to
whom we poor creatures, humbly following at the tail of
our great high-priests and prophets of the press, may, as
in duty bound, offer some small gift of our own, — a little
mite truly, but given with good will. Come up, then, fair
Catherine, and brave count, — appear, gallant Brock and
faultless Billings, — hasten hither, honest John Hayes : the
former chapters are but flowers in which we have been deck-
ing you for the sacrifice ; ascend to the altar, ye innocent
lambs, and prepare for the final act; lo! the knife is
sharpened, and the sacrificer ready ! Stretch your throats,
sweet ones, — for our god, the public, is thirsty, and must
have blood !

184 CATHERINE: A STORY.

CHAPTER THE LAST.

THAT Mr. Hayes had some notion of the attachment of
Monsieur de Galgenstein for his wife is very certain : the
man could not but perceive that she was more gaily dressed,
and more frequently absent than usual ; and must have
been quite aware, that from the day of the quarrel until
the present period Catherine had never asked him for a
shilling for the house expenses. He had not the heart to
offer, however; nor, in truth, did she seem to remember
that money was due.

She received, in fact, many sums from the tender count.
Tom was likewise liberally provided by the same person-
age; who was, moreover, continually sending presents of
various kinds to the person on whom his affections were
centred.

One of these gifts was a hamper of choice mountain
wine, which had been some weeks in the house, and excited
the longing of Mr. Hayes, who loved wine very much.
This liquor was generally drank by Wood and Billings,
who applauded it greatly; and many times, in passing
through the back-parlour, which he had to traverse in
order to reach the stair, Hayes had cast a tender eye tow-
ards the drink, of which, had he dared, he would have
partaken.

On the 1st of March, in the year 1726, Mr. Hayes had
gathered together almost the whole sum with which he in-
tended to decamp ; and having on that very day recovered
the amount of a bill which he thought almost hopeless, he
returned home in tolerable good-humour, and feeling, so
near was his period of departure, something like security.
Nobody had attempted the least violence on him ; besides,
he was armed with pistols, had his money in bills, and a
belt about his person, and really reasoned with himself
that there was no danger for him to apprehend.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 185

He entered the house about dusk, at five o'clock. Mrs.
Hayes was absent with Mr. Billings ; only Mr. Wood was
smoking, according to his wont, in the little back-parlour ;
and as Mr. Hayes passed, the old gentleman addressed
him in a friendly voice, and, wondering that he had been
such a stranger, invited him to sit and take a glass of wine.
There was a light and a foreman in the shop ; Mr. Hayes
gave his injunctions to that person, and saw no objection to
Mr. Wood's invitation.

The conversation, at first a little stiff between the two
gentlemen, began speedily to grow more easy and confi-
dential ; and so particularly bland and good-humoured was
Mr. , or Doctor, Wood, that his companion was quite caught,
and softened by the charm of his manner, and the pair
became as good friends as in former days of their inter-
course.

" I wish you would come down sometimes of evenings,"
quoth Doctor Wood ; " for, though no book-learned man,
Mr. Hayes, look you, you are a man of the world, and I
can't abide the society of boys. There's Tom, now, since
this tiff with Mrs. Cat, the scoundrel plays the Grand Turk
here! The pair of 'em, betwixt them, have completely
gotten the upper hand of you. Confess that you are beaten,
Master Hayes, and don't like the boy."

"No more I do," said Hayes; "and that's the truth
on't. A man doth not like to have his wife's sins flung in
his face, nor to be perpetually bullied in his own house by
such a fiery sprig as that ! "

"Mischief, sir, — mischief only," said Wood; "'tis the
fun of youth, sir, and will go off as age comes to the lad.
Bad as you may think him — and he is as skittish and fierce,
sure enough, as a young colt — there is good stuff in him;
and though he hath, or fancies he hath, the right to abuse
every one, by the Lord he will let none others do so ! Last
week, now, didn't he tell Mrs. Cat that you served her
right in the last betting matter? and weren't they coming
to knives, just as in your case? By my faith, they were.
Ay, and at the Braund's Head, when some fellow said that

186 CATHERINE: A STORY.

you were a bloody Bluebeard, and would murder your wife,
stab rne if Torn wasn't up in an instant, and knocked the
fellow down for abusing of you ! "

The first of these stories was quite true ; the second was
only a charitable invention of Mr. Wood, and employed,
doubtless, for the amiable purpose of bringing the old and
young men together. The scheme partially succeeded ; for,
though Hayes was not so far mollified towards Tom as to
entertain any affection for a young man whom he had cor-
dially detested ever since he knew him, yet he felt more at
ease and cheerful regarding himself, and surely not with-
out reason. While indulging in these benevolent senti-
ments, Mrs. Catherine and her son arrived, and found,
somewhat to their astonishment, Mr. Hayes seated in the
back-parlour, as in former times ; and they were invited by
Mr. Wood to sit down and drink.

We have said that certain bottles of mountain wine were
presented by the count to Mrs. Catherine : these were, at
Mr. Wood's suggestion, produced; and Hayes, who had
long been coveting them, was charmed to have an oppor-
tunity to drink his fill. He forthwith began bragging of
his great powers as a drinker, and vowed that he could
manage eight bottles without becoming intoxicated.

Mr. Wood grinned strangely, and looked in a peculiar
way at Tom Billings, who grinned too. Mrs. Cat's eyes
were turned towards the ground; but her face was deadly
pale.

The party began drinking. Hayes kept up his reputa-
tion as a toper, and swallowed one, two, three bottles with-
out wincing. He grew talkative and merry, and began to
sing songs and to cut jokes ; at which Wood laughed hugely,
and Billings after him. Mrs. Cat could not laugh; but
sate silent. What ailed her? Was she thinking of the
count? She had been with Max that day, and had prom-
ised him, for the next night at ten, an interview near his
lodgings at Whitehall. It was the first time that she
would see him alone. They were to meet (not a very cheer-
ful place for a love- tryst) at St. Margaret's Churchyard,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 187

near Westminster Abbey. Of this, no doubt, Cat was

thinking ; but what could she mean by whispering to Wood,

"No, no! for God's sake, not to-night! "

. " She means we are to have no more liquor," said Wood

to Mr. Hayes, who heard this sentence, and seemed rather

alarmed.

"That's it, — no more liquor," said Catherine, eagerly;
" you have had enough to-night. Go to bed, and lock your
door, and sleep, Mr. Hayes."

" But I say I've not had enough drink ! " screamed Hayes ;
"I'm good for five bottles more, and wager I will drink
them, too."

" Done, for a guinea ! " said Wood.

" Done, and done ! " said Billings.

" Be you quiet ! " growled Hayes, scowling at the lad j " I
will drink what I please, and ask no counsel of yours;"
and he muttered some more curses against young Billings,
which showed what his feelings were towards his wife's
son; and which the latter, for a wonder, only received
with a scornful smile, and a knowing look at Wood.

Well, the five extra bottles were brought, and drank by
Mr. Hayes; and seasoned by many songs from the recueil
of Mr. Thomas D'Urfey and others , The chief part of the
talk and merriment was on Hayes's part, as, indeed, was
natural, — for, while he drank bottle after bottle of wine,
the other two gentlemen confined themselves to small
beer, — both pleading illness as an excuse for their so-
briety.

And now might we depict, with much accuracy, the
course of Mr. Hayes's intoxication, as it rose from the
merriment of the three-bottle point to the madness of the
four — from the uproarious quarrelsomeness of the sixth
bottle to the sickly stupidity of the seventh; but we are
desirous of bringing this tale to a conclusion, and must
pretermit all consideration of a subject so curious, so, in-
structive, and so delightful. Suffice it to say, as a matter
of history, that Mr. Hayes did actually drink seven bottles
of mountain wine; and that Mr. Thomas Billings went to

188 CATHERINE: A STORY.

the Braund's Head, in Bond Street, and purchased another,
which Hayes likewise drank.

"That'll do/' said Mr. Wood to young Billings; and
they led Hayes up to bed, whither, in truth, he was unable
to walk himself.

Mrs. Springatt, the lodger, came down to ask what the
noise was. "'Tis only Tom Billings making merry with
some friends from the country," answered Mrs. Hayes;
whereupon Springatt retired, and the house was quiet.

Some scuffling and stamping was heard about eleven
o'clock.

After they had seen Mr. Hayes to bed, Billings remem-
bered that he had a parcel to carry to some person in the
neighbourhood of the Strand; and, as the night was re-
markably fine, he and Mr. Wood agreed to walk together,
and set forth accordingly.

[Here follows a description of the THAMES AT MIDNIGHT,
in a fine historical style, with an account of Lambeth,
Westminster, the Savoy, Baynard's Castle, Arundel House,
the Temple ; of Old London Bridge, with its twenty arches,
" on which be houses builded, so that it seemeth rather a
continuall street than a bridge ; " of Bankside, and the Globe
and the Fortune Theatres ; of the ferries across the river,
and of the pirates who infest the same, — namely, tinkler-
men, petermen, hebbermen, trawlerinen; of the fleet of
barges that lay at the Savoy steps ; and of the long lines of
slim wherries sleeping on the river-banks, and basking and
shining in the moonbeams. A combat on the river is de-
scribed, that takes place between the crews of a tinkler-
man's boat and the water-bailiff's. Shouting his war-cry,
u St. Mary Overy, a la rescousse ! " the water-bailiff sprung

CATHERINE: A STORY. 189

at the throat of the tinklennan captain. The crews of both
vessels, as if aware that the struggle of their chiefs would
decide the contest, ceased hostilities, and awaited on their
respective poops the issue of the death-shock. It was not
long coming. " Yield, dog I" said the water-bailiff . The
tinklerman could not answer,— for his throat was grasped too
tight in the iron clench of the city-chain pion ; but drawing
his snickersnee, he plunged it seven times in the bailiff's
chest : still the latter fell not. The death-rattle gurgled
in the throat of his opponent ; his arms fell heavily to his
side. Foot to foot, each standing at the side of his boat,
stood the two brave men, — they were both dead / " In the
name of St. Clement Danes," said the master, "give way,
my men! " and, thrusting forward his halberd (seven feet
long, richly decorated with velvet and brass nails, and
having the city arms, argent a cross gules, and in the first
quarter a dagger displayed of the second), he thrust the
tinklerman' s boat away from his own; and at once the
bodies of the captains plunged down, down, down, down,
in the unfathomable waters.

After this follows another episode. Two masked ladies
quarrel at the door of a tavern overlooking the Thames :
they turn out to be Stella and Vanessa, who have followed
Swift thither; who is in the act of reading "Gulliver's
Travels " to Gay, Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke, and Pope. Two
fellows are sitting, shuddering, under a doorway; to one
of them, Tom Billings flung a sixpence. He little knew
that the names of those two young men were — Samuel
Johnson and Richard Savage."}

100 CATHERINE. A STORY.

ANOTHER LAST CHAPTER.

MR. HAYES did not join the family the next day ; and it
appears that the previous night's reconciliation was not very
durable ; for when Mrs. Springatt asked Wood for Hayes,
Mr. Wood stated that Hayes had gone away, without say-
ing whither he was bound, or how long he might be absent.
He only said, in rather a sulky tone, that he should proba-
bly pass the night at a friend's house. " For my part, I
know of no friend he hath, " added Mr. Wood ; " and pray
Heaven that he may not think of deserting his poor wife,
whom he hath beaten and ill-used so already ! " In this
prayer Mrs. Springatt joined, and so these two worthy
people parted.

What business Billings was about cannot be said ; but he
was this night bound towards Mary bone Fields as he was
the night before for the Strand and Westminster ; and, al-
though the night was very stormy and rainy, as the previ-
ous evening had been fine, old Wood good-naturedly resolved
upon accompanying him ; and forth they sallied together.

Mrs. Catherine, too, had her business, as we have seen ;
but this was of a very delicate nature. At nine o'clock,
she had an appointment with the count; and faithfully, by
that hour, had found her way to St. Margaret's Churchyard,
near Westminster Abbey, where she awaited Monsieur de
Gralgenstein.

The spot was convenient, being very lonely, and at the
same time close to the count's lodgings, at Whitehall. His
excellency came, but somewhat after the hour; for, to say
the truth, being a freethinker, he had the most firm belief
in ghosts and demons, and did not care to pace a church-
yard alone. He was comforted, therefore, when he saw a
woman muffled in a cloak, who held out her hand to him afc
the gate, and said, " Is that you? " He took her hand, —

CATHERINE: A STORY. 191

it was very clammy and cold ; and at her desire he bade
his confidential footman, who had attended him with a
torch, to retire, and leave him to himself.

The torch-bearer retired, and left them quite in darkness ;
and the pair entered the little cemetery, cautiously thread-
ing their way among the tombs. They sate down on one,
underneath a tree it seemed to be ; the wind was very cold,
and its piteous howling was the only noise that broke the
silence of the place. Catherine's teeth were chattering,
for all her wraps; and when Max drew her close to him,
and encircled her waist with one arm, and pressed her
hand, she did not repulse him, but rather came close to
him, and with her own damp fingers feebly returned his
pressure.

The poor thing was very wretched, and weeping. Sh&
confided to Max the cause of her grief. She was alone in
the world, — alone and penniless. Her husband had left
her; she had that very day received a letter from him
which confirmed all that she had suspected so long. He
had left her, carried away all his property, and would not
return !

If we say that a selfish joy filled the breast of Monsieur
de Galgenstein, the reader will not be astonished. A
heartless libertine, he felt glad at the prospect of Catherine's
ruin ; for he hoped that necessity would make her his own.
He clasped the poor thing to his heart, and vowed that he
would replace the husband she had lost, and that his fortune
should be hers.

"Will you replace him? " said she.

" Yes, truly, in everything but the name, dear Catherine;
and when he dies, I swear you shall be Countess of Gal-
genstein."

" Will you swear? " she cried, eagerly.

" By everything that is most sacred, were you free now,
I would " (and here he swore a terrific oath) " at once make
you mine."

We have seen before that it cost Monsieur de Galgen-
stein nothing to make these vows. Hayes was likely, too,

9 Vol. 13

192 CATHERINE : A STORY.

to live as long as Catherine — as long, at least, as the
count's connection with her; but he was caught in his own
snare.

She took his hand and kissed it repeatedly, and bathed
it in her tears, and pressed it to her bosom. " Max," she
said, " 1 am free! Be mine, and I will love you as I have
done for years and years."

Max started back : " What, is he dead? " he said.

"No, no, not dead; but he never was my husband."

He let go her hand, and, interrupting her, said sharply,
"Indeed, madam, if this carpenter never was your hus-
band, I see no cause why / should be. If a lady, who hath:
been for twenty years the mistress of a miserable country
boor, cannot find it in her heart to put up with the protec-
tion of a nobleman — a sovereign's representative — she may
seek a husband elsewhere ! "

"I was no man's mistress except yours," sobbed Cath-
erine, wringing her hands and sobbing wildly: "but, 0
Heaven ! I deserved this — because I was a child, and you
saw, and ruined, and left me — because, in my sorrow and
repentance, I wished to repair my crime, and was touched
by that man's love, and married him — because he too de-
ceives and leaves me — because, after loving you — madly
loving you for twenty years, I will not now forfeit your
respect, and degrade myself by yielding to your will, you
too must scorn me ! It is too much — too much, O Heaven ! "
And the wretched woman fell back almost fainting.

Max was almost frightened by this burst of sorrow on
her part, and was coming forward to support her ; but she
motioned him away, and, taking from her bosom a letter,
said, " If it were light, you could see, Max, how cruelly I
have been betrayed by that man who called himself my
husband. Long before he married me, he was married to
another. This woman is still living, he says; and he says
he leaves me for ever."

At this moment the moon, which had been hidden be-
hind Westminster Abbey, rose above the vast black mass
of that edifice, and poured a flood of silver light upon the

CATHERINE: A STORY. 193

little church of St. Margaret 's, and the spot where the
lovers stood. Max was at a little distance from Catherine,
pacing gloomily up and down the flags. She remained at
her old position, at the tombstone under the tree, or pillar,
as it seemed to be, as the moon got up. She was leaning
against the latter, and holding out to Max, with an arm
beautifully white and rounded, the letter she had received
from her husband. "Kead it, Max," she said: "I asked
for light, and here is Heaven's own, by which you may
read."

But Max did not come forward to receive it. On a sud-
den his face assumed a look of the most dreadful surprise
and agony. He stood still, and stared with wild eyes
starting from their sockets : he stared upwards at a point
seemingly above Catherine's head. At last he raised up his
finger slowly, and said, "Look, Cat — the head — the head!"
Then uttering a horrible laugh, he fell grovelling down
among the stones, gibbering and writhing in a tit of epi-
lepsy.

Catherine started forward and looked up. She had been
standing against a post, not a tree — the moon was shining
full on it now ; and on the summit, strangely distinct, and
smiling ghastly, was a livid human head.

The wretched woman fled — she dared look no more.
And some hours afterwards, when, alarmed by the count's
continued absence, his confidential servant came back to
seek for him in the churchyard, he was found sitting on
the flags, staring full at the head, and laughing, and talk-
ing to it wildly, and nodding at it. He was taken up a
hopeless idiot, and so lived for years and years, clanking
the chain, and moaning under the lash, and howling through
long nights when the moon peered through the bars of his
solitary cell, and he buried his face in the straw.

There — the murder is out! And having indulged him-
self in a chapter of the very finest writing, the author begs
the attention of the British public towards it, humbly con-
ceiving that it possesses some of those peculiar merits which

CATHERINE: A STORY.

have rendered the fine writing in other chapters of the
works of other authors so famous.

Without bragging at all, let us just point out the chief
claims of the above pleasing piece of composition. In the
first place, it is perfectly stilted and unnatural; the dia-
logue and the sentiments being artfully arranged, so as to
be as strong and majestic as possible. Our dear Cat is but
a poor, illiterate country wench, who has come from cut-
ting her husband's throat; and yet, see! she talks and
looks like a tragedy princess, who is suffering in the most
virtuous blank verse. This is the proper end of fiction,
and one of the greatest triumphs that a novelist can achieve ;
for to make people sympathise with virtue is a vulgar trick
that any common fellow can do ; but it is not everybody
who can take a scoundrel, and cause us to weep and whim-
per over him as though he were a very saint. Give a
young lady of five years old a skein of silk and a brace of
netting-needles, and she will in a short time turn you out
a decent silk purse — anybody can ; but try her with a sow's
ear, and see whether she can make a silk purse out of that.
That is the work for your real great artist ; and pleasant it
is to see how many have succeeded in these latter days.

In the next place, if Mr. Yates, Mr. Davidge, Mr. Crum-
mies, and other entrepreneurs of theatres, are at a loss for
theatrical novelties, the following scene is humbly recom-
mended to -their notice, as affording a pretty thrill of hor-
ror: —

WESTMINSTER AT MIDNIGHT

(Organs heard in Westminster Abbey)

THE MEETING AMONG THE TOMBS
THE KISING OF THE STORM!

THE SETTING OF DITTO ! !
THE RISING OF THE MOON! ! !

Fake away ! — all the world will rush to the spectacle ;
and a very pretty one it will be.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 195

The subject, too, is strictly historical, as any one may
see by referring to the Daily Post of March 3, 1726, which
contains the following paragraph : —

"Yesterday morning, early, a man's head, that by the
freshness of it seemed to have been newly cut off from the
body, having its own hair on, was found by the river side,
near Millbank, Westminster, and was afterwards exposed
to public view in St. Margaret's Churchyard, where thou-
sands of people have seen it; but none could tell who the
unhappy person was, much less who committed such a hor-
rid and barbarous action. There are various conjectures
relating to the deceased; but there being nothing certain,
we omit them. The head was much hacked and mangled
in the cutting off."

The same paper adds, that there will be performed, at
the Theatre Koyal in Drury Lane, by their Royal High-
nesses' command, for the benefit of Mrs. Oldfield,

THE PROVOKED WIFE.

And if this be not incident enough, we have some more
in store, which will make the fortune of any theatrical
piece, especially if set off with a little broad comedy, and
some good songs and jokes, such as may easily be thrown
in. For now, having come to that part of the history of
poor Cat and her friends, of which an accomplished and
reverend writer, the ordinary of Newgate, has given a most
careful recital, it will be needless to go to any trouble our-
selves upon the subject; and we shall be content with
arranging and condensing the ordinary's narrative.

The head which caused such an impression upon Mon-
sieur de Galgenstein was, indeed, once on the shoulders of
Mr. John Hayes, who lost it under the following circum-
stances. We have seen how Mr. Hayes was induced to
drink. Having encouraged Mr. Hayes in drinking the
wine, and he growing very merry therewith, he sung and
danced about the room ; but his wife, fearing the quantity
he had drunk would not have the wished-for effect on him,

136 CATHERINE: A STORY.

she sent away for another bottle, of which he drunk also,
which effectually answered their expectations; and Mr.
Hayes became thereby intoxicated, and deprived of his
understanding.

He, however, made shift to get into the other room, and,
throwing himself upon the bed, fell asleep : upon which Mrs.
Hayes reminded them of the affair in hand, and told them
that was the most proper juncture to finish the business.

Hereupon Billings went into the other room where Mr.
Hayes lay sleeping, and going to the bedside with a coal-
hatchet in his hand, struck Mr. Hayes on the back of the
head, whereby he broke his skull. The violence of the
blow, and the agony of the pain, caused Mr. Hayes to
stamp on the ground five or six times with his feet, which
hung over the bedside : whereupon Thomas Wood came
into the room, and struck him twice more with the same
instrument, though the first blow had done his business
effectually.

Upon the noise Mr. Hayes made with his feet, as above-
mentioned, Mrs. Springatt, who lodged up in the garret
over Mr. Hayes's room, came down to inquire the occasion
thereof, complaining that the disturbance was so great that
she could not sleep for it. To which Mrs. Hayes answered
that they had some company there, who, having been drink-
ing, had grown merry; but as they would be going imme-
diately, desired her not to be uneasy.

This satisfied Mrs. Springatt for the present, and she
turned back, and went to bed again, not expecting to hear
anything further.

When the murderers perceived that Hayes was quite
dead, they debated on what manner they should dispose of
the body ; and several expedients were proposed to remove
it, in order to prevent a discovery : but that which appeared
most feasible was of Catherine's own contrivance.

She said if the body was carried away whole, it might
be known, and a discovery would be thereby made, and
therefore proposed that the head should be cut off; and
then the body being removed, could not be known.

CATHERINE: A STORY. 197

This being resolved on, they got a pail, and the murder-
ess carrying a candle, they all three went into the room
where the deceased lay, where Catherine held the pail,
Wood supported the head, and Billings cut it off with his
pocket-knife, — having first dragged the body over the side
of the bed, that the blood might not stain the clothes.

The head being thus cut off, and the body having done
bleeding, they poured the blood into a wooden sink out of
the window, and threw several pails of water after it to
wash it away. Mrs. Hayes then proposed, in order to pre-
vent a discovery, that she would take the head and boil it
in a pot, till only the skin remained, whereby it would be
altogether impossible for anybody to distinguish to whom
it belonged.

This might have been approved of, only it was not alto-
gether so expeditious. It was determined, though, that
Wood and Billings should take the head in a pail, and
carry it down to the Thames, and throw it in there. This
was approved of; and Billings, taking the head in the pail
under his great-coat, went downstairs, with Wood, to dis-
pose thereof, as had been before agreed upon.

Springatt, hearing a bustling in Mrs, Hayes's room,
called again to know who it was. To which Mrs. Hayes
answered it was her husband, who was going a journey into
the country; and pretended to take a formal leave of him,
expressing her sorrow that he was obliged to go out of town
at that time of night, and her fear lest any accident should
befall him.

Billings and Wood being thus gone to dispose of the
head, went towards Whitehall, intending to have thrown
the same into the river there ; but the gates being shut,
they were obliged to go onwards as far as Mr. Macroth's
wharf, near the Horseferry, at Westminster; where Bil-
lings setting down the pail from under his great-coat,
Wood took up the same, with the head therein, and threw
it into the dock before the wharf. It was expected the
same would have been carried away with the tide ; but the
water then ebbing, it was left behind. There were some

198 CATHERINE: A STORY.

lighters lying near the dock ; and one of the lightermen,
being then walking on board, saw them throw the pail into
the dock; but it being then too dark to discover them
clearly, and having no suspicion, he thought no more of
the affair.

They now returned back, and arriving about twelve
o'clock, Mrs. Hayes let them in ; and they found she had
been busily employed in scraping the floor, and washing
the walls, etc. They now all went into the fore-room ; and
Billings and Wood went to bed, Mrs. Hayes sitting by
them the remainder of the night.

In the morning of the 2nd of March, soon after the break
of day, one Robinson, a watchman, saw a man's head lying
in the dock, and a pail near it. He called some persons
to assist in taking up the head ; and finding the pail bloody,
they conjectured that the head had been brought thither in
it. Their suspicions were fully confirmed by the lighter-
man, who saw the head thrown in, as above mentioned.

It was now time for the murderers to consider how they
should dispose of the body; which Mrs. Hayes and Wood
proposed to put into a box, where it might lie concealed
till they had a convenient opportunity to remove it. This
being determined upon, she brought a box ; but, on endeav-
ouring to put the body in, they found the box was not big
enough to hold it. Mrs. Hayes then proposed to cut off
the arms and legs ; but still the box would not hold it.
They then cut off the thighs ; and laying the limbs in the
box, concealed the same till night.

The finding of Hayes's head had, in the meanwhile,
alarmed the town, and information was given to the neigh-
bouring justices of the peace. The parish-officers did all
that was possible towards the discovery of the murderers;
they caused the head to be cleaned, the face to be washed
from the dirt and blood, and the hair to be combed ; and
then the head to be set up on a post in public view in
St. Margaret's Churchyard, Westminster, that everybody
might have free access to the same ; with some of the par-
ish-officers to attend, hoping by that means a discovery

CATHERINE: A STORY. 199

might be made. Other precautions were taken, and a strict
watch kept ; and the head continued to be exposed for some
days, drawing prodigious crowds to see the same, but with-
out any discovery of the murderers.

On the 2nd March, in the evening, Catherine Hayes,
Wood, and Billings took the body and disjointed members
out of the box, and wrapped them in two blankets — the
body in one, and the limbs in the other. Billings and
Wood first took the body, and, about nine o'clock in the
evening, carried it by turns into Marybone Fields, and
threw the same into a pond ; which Wood, in the daytime,
had been hunting for; and, returning back again about
eleven the same night, took up the limbs in the other old
blanket, and carried them by turns to the same place, and
threw them in there also.

On that same day two people saw the head; and one
who was acquainted with Mrs. Hayes communicated the
fact to her, but she smartly reprimanded the fellow for
raising false and scandalous reports. Another person men- 5.
tioned the same suspicions to Billings, at a public-house,
but the latter said Hayes was quite well, and he had seen
him to bed that morning.

On the 3d of March, Wood went away into the country,
and soon after Mrs. Hayes removed from the house where
the murder was committed. Several inquiries were made
regarding Hayes, but these she evaded, and now employed
herself in collecting as much of her husband's property as
she possibly could ; and finding, among other papers, a
bond due to Mr. Hayes from one Davis, who had married
his sister, she wrote to him on the 14th March in her
husband's name, and threatened to sue him for the
money.

In the meantime the head had been taken down from the
pole and was preserved in spirits ; and among the thou-
sands who went to see it was one, a poor woman, from
Kingsland, whose husband had been absent since the 1st of
March, and who fancied that the head resembled him.
Mrs. Hayes, to satisfy her neighbours with regard to her

200 CATHERINE: A STORY.

husband's disappearance, now said he had killed a man
in a duel, and was forced to fly the country.

But one or two of Hayes's acquaintances began to have
suspicions, and going to see the head, declared their full
belief that it was Hayes's; upon which they went before
Justice Lambert, who, at their desire, issued a warrant for
the apprehension of Catherine Hayes, Thomas Wood,
Thomas Billings, and Mary Springatt. Wood was absent,
but Hayes, Billings, and Springatt were seized and com-
mitted each to a separate prison for further examination.
They would acknowledge nothing of the murder, and Hayes
demanded to see the head, which was accordingly shown to
her.

As soon as she saw it in its glass case, she threw herself
on her knees and said, "Oh, it is my dear husband's head
— it is my dear husband's head! " and embracing the glass
in her arms, kissed the outside of it several times. On
this she was told that if it was Hayes's head she should
have a nearer view of it, and it should be taken out of the
glass in order that she might have a full view thereof. Ac-
cordingly, taking hold of it by the hair, the surgeon, who
had preserved it, lifted it out of the glass and brought it
to Catherine, who catched hold of it and kissed it, and
begged to have a lock of the hair, but the surgeon told her
lie feared she had had already too much blood. She fainted
away, and was, on a further examination before Mr. Lam-
bert, committed to Newgate to take her trial.

On the Sunday following, Wood, who had not heard of
the apprehension of his companions, came into town, was
seized, and, in like manner, examined before the magis-
trates ; and finding that it was impossible to prevent a full
discovery or evade the proofs that were against him, he
was induced to make a full confession of the affair, and did
so, as has been related above.

After this Billings confessed ; and, as it appeared from
their statements that Springatt was quite innocent, she
was set free. At their trial the two men pleaded guilty j
but Catherine Hayes, who denied all share in the murder,

CATHERINE: A STORY. 201

declared herself not guilty. She was condemned, however,
with her two associates, and sentence of death was passed
upon them as usual — namely, Wood and Billings were con-
demned to be hanged, and Mrs. Hayes to be burnt alive.

While in prison Catherine, both before and after her trial,
was perpetually sending messages to, and inquiring after,
Billings ; and out of such money as the other had with her,
or was given to her while in prison by charitable persons,
she would send and give the greatest share of it to him.

Wood, while in prison, contracted a violent fever, which
preyed upon him in a severe manner ; and on Wednesday,
the 4th May, died in the condemned hold.

After sentence Mrs. Hayes behaved herself with more
indifference than might have been expected from one in her
circumstances. She frequently expressed herself to be
under no concern at her approaching death ; she showed
more concern for Billings than for herself ; and when in
the chapel, would sit with her hand in his, and lean her
head upon his shoulder. For this she was reprimanded, as
showing her esteem for the murderer of her husband ; not-
withstanding which reason she would not desist, but con-
tinued the same until the minute of her death ; one of her
last expressions to the executioner, as she was going from
the sledge to the stake, being an inquiry whether he had
hanged her dear child.

And, finally, we add the following paragraph in the
Daily Journal, Tuesday, May 10, 1726:—

" Yesterday Thomas Billings was hanged in chains with-
in one hundred yards of the gallows on the road to Pad-
dington.

" Catherine Hayes, as soon as the other was executed,
was, pursuant to a special order, made fast to a stake with
a chain round her waist, her feet on the ground, and a hal-
ter round her neck, the end whereof went through a hole
made in the stake for that purpose. The fuel being placed
round her and lighted with a torch, she begged, for the sake
of Jesus, to be strangled first ; whereupon the executioner
drew tight the halter, but the flame coming to his hand, in

202 CATHERINE: A STORY.

the space of a second he let it go, when she gave three
dreadful shrieks ; but the flames taking her on all sides she
was heard no more, and the executioner throwing a piece
of timber into the fire, it broke her skull$ when her brains
came plentifully out, and, in the course of an hour, she
was entirely reduced to ashes.

"Just before the execution, a scaffold, that had been
built near Tyburn, and had about one hundred and fifty
people upon it, fell down "- — on which, if the reader
pleases, he may fancy that his reverence, the Irish chaplain,
was seated to see the show, and was among the killed : and
so the slate is clean, and the sponge has wiped away all
the figures that have been inscribed in our story.
*****

[All this presents a series of delightful subjects for the
artist and the theatre : —

1

&l

3£

3FS
*§'«

43
,'E

O>

a

!

1.

2.
4.'

Hayes dancing.
(Comic Song.
Ha3res in Bed.
The first Stroke
The Finisher.

Wood, Billings, and Mrs.
" Now 's the Time!"
s with the Axe ! !
(Drinking Of torus.)

Oat.inchoru*.

A Grand Tableau.

MRS. CATHERINE CUTTING OFF HER HUSBAND'S
HEAD.

1. The Carrying of the Pail.

2. The Thames at Midnight. The Emptying of the Pail.
8. The Thames at Low -water. Discovery of the Head.
4. St. Margaret's by Moonlight. The Head on the Pole!

Grand Tableau.
THE MANIAC AMBASSADOR.

1. Old Marybone Fields — evening.

2. The Carrying of the Legs I
8. The Bearers of the Trunk !
4. The Discovery at the Pond I

CATHERINE: A STORY. 203

Grand Tableau.

THE SEIZURE, AND THE APPEARANCE BEFORE THE
MAGISTRATES.

1. The Death of Wood in Prison.

2. Catherine kissing her Husband's Head!

3. The Way to the Scaffold !

4. The Gallows and the Stake!

Grand Tableau. Finale. Blue Lights. Green Lights.
The whole strength of the Band.

CATHERINE BURNING AT THE STAKE! BILLINGS HANGED lu THB
BACKGROUND! ! THE THREE SCREAMS OF THE Vicriif ! ! I

The executioner dashes her brains out with a billet.

The Curtain falls to slow Music.

God save the Queen! No money returned.

Children in arms encouraged, rather than otherwise.]

King, ding, ding ! the gloomy green curtain drops, the
dramatis personce are duly disposed of, the nimble candle-
snuffers put out the lights, and the audience goeth pondering
home. If the critic take the pains to ask why the author,
who hath been so diffuse in describing the early and fabu-
lous acts of Mrs. Catherine's existence, should so hurry off
the catastrophe where a deal of the very finest writing
might have been employed, Solomons replies that the " or-
dinary " narrative as above condensed by him, is far more
emphatic than any composition of his own could be, with
all the rhetorical graces which he might employ. Mr.
Aram's trial, as taken by the penny-a-liners of those days,
hath always interested him more than the lengthened and
poetical report which an eminent novelist (who hath lately,
in compliment to his writings, been gratified by a permis-
sion to wear a bloody hand) has given of the same. Mr.
Turpin's adventures are more instructive and agreeable to
him in the account of the Newgate Plutarch, than in the
learned Ainsworth's " Biographical Dictionary ; " and as he
believes that the professional gentlemen w-ho are employed

204 CATHERINE: A STORY.

to invest such heroes with the rewards that their great ac-
tions merit, will go through the ceremony of the grand
cordon with much more accuracy and despatch than can be
shown by the most distinguished amateur; in like manner
he thinks that the history of such investitures should be
written by people directly concerned, and not by admiring
persons without, who must be ignorant of many of the se-
crets of ketchcraft. We very much doubt if Milton himself
could make a description of an execution half so horrible
as yonder simple lines from the Daily Post of a hundred
and ten years since, that now lies before us, " herrlich wie
am ersten Tag," — as bright and clean as on the day of
publication. Think of it! it has been read by Belinda at
her toilet, scanned at Button's and Will's, sneered at by
wits, talked of in palaces and cottages by a busy race in
wigs, red heels, hoops*, patches, and rags of all variety — a
busy race that hath long since plunged and vanished in the
unfathomable gulf, towards which we march so briskly.

Where are they? " Afflavit deus " — and they are gone!
Hark ! is not the same wind roaring still that shall sweep
us down? and yonder stands the compositor at his types
who shall put up a pretty paragraph some day to say how,
" Yesterday, at his house in Grosvenor Square ; " or, " At
Botany Bay, universally regretted," died So-and-so. Into
what profound moralities is the paragraph concerning Mrs.
Catherine's burning leading us!

Ay, truly, and to that very point have we wished to
come ; for, having finished our delectable meal, it behoves
us to say a word or two by way of grace at its conclusion,
and be heartily thankful that it is over. It has been the
writer's object carefully to exclude from his drama (except
in two very insignificant instances — mere walking-gentle-
men parts) any characters but those of scoundrels of the very
highest degree. That he has not altogether failed in the
object he had in view, is evident from some newspaper cri-
tiques which he has had the good fortune to see ; and which
abuse the tale of "Catherine" as one of the dullest, most
vulgar and immoral works extant. It is highly gratifying

CATHERINE: A STORY. , 205

to the author to find that such opinions are abroad, as they
convince him that the taste for Newgate literature is on the
wane, and that when the public critic has right down undis-
guised immorality set before him, the honest creature is
shocked at it, as he should be, and can declare his indigna-
tion in good round terms of abuse. The characters of the
tale are immoral, and no doubt of it ; but the writer hum-
bly hopes the end is not so. The public was, m our no-
tion, dosed and poisoned by the prevailing style of literary
practice, and it was necessary to administer some medicine
that would produce a wholesome nausea, and afterward*
bring about a more healthy habit.

And, thank Heaven, this effect has been produced in
very many instances, and that the " Catherine " cathartic
has acted most efficaciously. The author has been pleased,
sir, at the disgust which his work has excited, and has
watched with benevolent carefulness the wry faces that
have been made by many of the patients who have swal-
lowed the dose. Solomons remembers, at the establish-
ment in Birchin Lane, where he had the honour of receiv-
ing his education, there used to be administered to the boys a
certain cough-medicine, which was so excessively agreeable
that all the lads longed to have colds in order to partake
of the remedy. Sir, some of our popular novelists have
compounded their drugs in a similar way, and made them
so palatable, that a public, once healthy and honest, has
been well-nigh poisoned by their wares. Solomons defies
any one to say the like of himself — that his doses have
been as pleasant as champagne, and his pills as sweet as
barley-sugar ; — it has been his attempt to make vice to ap-
pear entirely vicious ; and in those instances where he hath
occasionally introduced something like virtue, to make the
sham as evident as possible, and not allow the meanest
capacity a single chance to mistake it.

And what has been the consequence? That wholesome
nausea which it has been his good fortune to create wher-
ever he has been allowed to practise in his humble circle.

Has any one thrown away a halfpenny-worth of sympa-

206 CATHERINE: A STORY.

thy upon any person mentioned in this history? Surely
no. But abler and more famous men than Solomons have
taken a different plan ; and it becomes every man in his
vocation to cry out against such, and expose their errors as
best he may.

To begin with Mr. Dickens. No one has read that re-
markable tale of " Oliver Twist " without being interested
in poor Nancy and her murderer ; and especially amused
and tickled by the gambols of the Artful Dodger and his
companions. The power of the writer is so amazing, that
the reader at once becomes his captive, and must follow
him whithersoever he leads; and to what are we led?
Breathless to watch all the crimes of Fagin, tenderly to de-
plore the errors of Nancy, to have for Bill Sikes a kind of
pity and admiration, and an absolute love for the society
of the Dodger. All these heroes stepped from the novel
on to the stage ; and the whole London public, from peers
to chimney-sweeps, were interested about a set of ruffians
whose occupations are thievery, murder, and prostitution.
A most agreeable set of rascals, indeed, who have their
virtues, too, but not good company for any man. We had
better pass them by in decent silence ; for, as no writer can
or dare tell the whole truth concerning them, and faith-
fully explain their vices, there is no need to give ex-parte
statements of their virtues.

And what came of " Oliver Twist "? The public wanted
something more extravagant still, more sympathy for
thieves, and so " Jack Sheppard " makes his appearance.
Jack and his two wives, and his faithful Blueskin, and his
gin-drinking mother, that sweet Magdalen!— with what a
wonderful gravity are all their adventures related, with
what an honest simplicity and vigour does Jack's biogra-
pher record his actions and virtues ! We are taught to hate
Wild, to be sure ; but then it is because he betrays thieves,
the rogue! And yet bad, ludicrous, monstrous as the idea
of this book is, we read, and read, and are interested, too.
The author has a wondrous faith, and a most respectable
notion, of the vastness of his subject. There is not one par-

CATHERINE: A STORY. 207

tide of banter in his composition ; good and bad ideas, he
hatches all with the same great gravity ; and is just as earn-
est in his fine description of the storm on the Thames, and
his admirable account of the escape from Newgate ; as in the
scenes in Whitefriars, and the conversations at Wild's,
than which nothing was ever written more curiously un-
natural. We are not, however, here criticising the novels,
but simply have to speak of the Newgate part of them,
which gives birth to something a great deal worse than bad
taste, and familiarises the public with notions of crime.
In the dreadful satire of "Jonathan Wild," no reader is so
dull as to make the mistake of admiring, and can overlook
the grand and hearty contempt of the author for the char-
acter he has described ; the bitter wit of the " Beggars'
Opera," too, hits the great, by showing their similarity with
the wretches that figure in the play ; and though the latter
piece* is so brilliant in its mask of gaiety and wit, that a
very dull person may not see the dismal reality thus dis-
guised, moral, at least, there is in the satire, for those who
will take the trouble to find it. But in the sorrows of
Nancy and the exploits of Sheppard, there is no such lurk-
ing moral, as far as we have been able to discover ; we are
asked for downright sympathy in the one case, and are
called on in the second to admire the gallantry of a thief.
The street-walker may be a very virtuous person, and the
robber as brave as Wellington ; but it is better to leave
them alone, and their qualities, good and bad. The pathos
of the workhouse scenes in "Oliver Twist," of the Fleet
Prison descriptions in "Pickwick," is genuine and pure —
as much of this as you please; as tender a hand to the
poor, as kindly a word to the unhappy, as you will ; but,
in the name of common sense, let us not expend our sym-
pathies on cut-throats, and other such prodigies of evil !

Labouring under such ideas, Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior,
produced the romance of Mrs. Cat, and confesses himself
completely happy to have brought it to a conclusion. His
poem may be dull — ay, and probably is. The great Black-
more, the great Dennis, the great Sprat, the great Pomfret,

208 CATHERINE: A STORY.

not to mention great men of our own time — have they not
also been dull, and had pretty reputations, too? Be it
granted Solomons is dull, but don't attack his morality;
he humbly submits that, in his poem, no man shall mistake
virtue for vice, no man shall allow a single sentiment of
pity or admiration to enter his bosom for any character of
the piece ; it being, from beginning to end, a scene of un-
mixed rascality performed by persons who never deviate
into good feeling ; and, although he doth, not pretend to
equal the great modern authors whom he hath mentioned,
in wit or descriptive power ; yet, in the point of moral, he
meekly believes that he has been their superior; feeling
the greatest disgust for the characters he describes, and
using his humble endeavour to cause the public also to hate
them.

HORSEMONGER LAJfE, January, 1840.

MEN'S WIVES.

MEN'S WIVES.

MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY.

CHAPTER I.
THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER HOUSE.

I AM very fond of reading about battles, and have most
of Marlborough's and Wellington's at my fingers' end, but
the most tremendous combat I ever saw, and one that in-
terests me to think of more than Malplaquet or Waterloo
(which, by the way, has grown to be a downright nuisance,
so much do men talk of it after dinner, prating most dis-
gustingly about "The Prussians coming up," and what
not), I say the most tremendous combat ever known was
that between Berry and Biggs, the gown-boy, which com-
menced in a certain place called Middle Briars, which is
situated in the midst of the cloisters that run along the side
of the play-ground of Slaughter House School, near Smith-
field, London. It was there, madam, that your humble
servant had the honour of acquiring, after six years' la-
bour, that immense fund of classical knowledge which in
after life has been so exceedingly useful to him.

The circumstances of the quarrel were these : — Biggs, the
gown-boy (a man who, in those days, I thought was at
least seven feet high, and was quite thunder-struck in find
in after life that he measured no more than five feet four),
was what we called " second cock " of the school ; the first
cock was a great, big, good-humoured, lazy, fair-haired
fellow, Old Hawkins by name, who, because he was large

212 MEN'S WIVES.

and good-humoured, hurt nobody. Biggs, on the contrary,
was a sad bully ; he had half-a-dozen fags, and beat them
all unmercifully. Moreover, he had a little brother, a
boarder in Potky's house, whom, as a matter of course, he
hated and maltreated worse than any one else.

Well, one day, because young Biggs had not brought his
brother his hoops, or had not caught a ball at cricket, or
for some other equally good reason, Biggs the elder so be-
laboured the poor little fellow, that Berry, who was saun-
tering by, and saw the dreadful blows which the elder
brother was dealing to the younger with his hocky-stick,
felt a compassion for the little fellow (perhaps he had a
jealousy against Biggs, and wanted to try a few rounds
with him, but that I can't vouch for) ; however, Berry pass-
ing by, stopped and said, "Don't you think you have
thrashed the boy enough, Biggs? " He spoke this in a
very civil tone, for he never would have thought of inter-
fering rudely with the sacred privilege that an upper boy
at a public school always has of beating a junior, especially
when they happen to be brothers.

The reply of Biggs, as might be expected, was to hit
young Biggs with the hocky-stick twice as hard as before,
until the little wretch howled with pain. " I suppose it's
no business of yours, Berry,'* said Biggs, thumping away
all the while, and laid on worse and worse.

Until Berry (and, indeed, little Biggs) could bear it no
longer, and the former, bouncing forward, wrenched the
stick out of old Biggs' hands, and sent it whirling out of
the cloister window, to the great wonder of a crowd of us
small boys, who were looking on. Little boys always like
to see a little companion of their own soundly beaten.

"There!" said Berry, looking into Biggs' face, as much
as to say, "I've gone and. done it;" and he added to the
brother, "Scud away, you little thief! I've saved you this
time."

"Stop, young Biggs I" roared out his brother after a
pause; "and I'll break every bone in your infernal, scoun-
drelly skin!"

MEN'S WIVES. 213

Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, then
came at his brother's order, as if back to be beaten again,
but lost heart and ran away as fast as his little legs could
carry him.

"I'll do for him another time/' said Biggs. "Here,
under boy, take my coat ; " and we all began to gather
round and formed a ring.

"We had better wait till after school, Biggs," cried Ber-
ry, quite cool, but looking a little pale. " There are only
five minutes now, and it will take you more than that to
thrash me."

Biggs upon this committed a great error ; for he struck
Berry slightly across the face with the back of his hand,
saying, " You are in a funk." But this was a feeling which
Frank Berry did not in the least entertain ; for in reply to
Biggs' back-hander, and as quick as thought, and with all
his might and main — pong ! he delivered a blow upon old
Biggs' nose that made the claret spurt, and sent the second
cock down to the ground as if he had been shot.

He was up again, however, in a minute, his face white
and gashed with blood, his eyes glaring, a ghastly specta-
cle ; and Berry, meanwhile, had taken his coat off, and by
this time there were gathered in the cloisters, on all the
windows, and upon each other's shoulders, one hundred
and twenty young gentlemen at the very least, for the news
had gone out through the play-ground of " a fight between
Berry and Biggs."

But Berry was quite right in his remark about the pro-
priety of deferring the business, for at this minute Mr. Chip,
the second master, came down the cloisters going into school,
and grinned in his queer way as he saw the state of Biggs'
face. "Holloa, Mr. Biggs," said he, "I suppose you have
run against a fmgei"post." That was the regular joke with
us at school, and you may be sure we all laughed heartily,
as we always did when Mr. Chip made a joke, or anything
like a joke. " You had better go to the pump, sir, and get
yourself washed, and not let Dr. Buckle see you in that
condition." So saying, Mr. Chip disappeared to his duties

214 MEN'S WIVES.

in the under school, whither all we little boys followed
him.

It was Wednesday, a half -holiday, as everybody knows,
and boiled beef day at Slaughter House. I was in the
same boarding-house with Berry, and we all looked to see
whether he ate a good dinner, just as one would examine a
man who was going to be hanged. I recollect, in after life,
in Germany, seeing a friend who was going to fight a duel,
eat five larks for his breakfast, and thought I had seldom
witnessed greater courage. Berry ate moderately of the
boiled beef — boiled child we used to call it at school, in our
elegant, jocular way; he knew a great deal better than to
load his stomach upon the eve of such a contest as was go-
ing to take place.

Dinner was very soon over, and Mr. Chip, who had beea
all the while joking Berry, and pressing him to eat, called
him up into his study, to the great disappointment of us
all, for we thought he was going to prevent the fight ; but
no such thing. The Kev. Edward Chip took Berry into,
his study, and poured him out two glasses of port wine,
which he made him take with a biscuit, and patted him on
the back, and went off. I have no doubt he was longing,
like all of us, to see the battle, but etiquette, you know,
forbade.

When we went out into the green, Old Hawkins was
there — the great Hawkins, the cock of the school. I have
never seen the man since, but still think of him as of some-
thing awful, gigantic, mysterious; he who could thrash
everybody, who could beat all the masters : how we longed
for him to put in his hand and lick Buckle! He was a
dull boy, not very high in the school, and had all his exer-
cises written for him. Buckle knew this, but respected
him, never called him up to read Greek plays ; passed over
all his blunders, which were many ; let him go out of half-
holidays into the town as he pleased ; how should any man
dare to stop him — the great, calm, magnanimous, silent
Strength ! They say he licked a Life-Guardsman ; I won-
der whether it was Shaw, who killed all those Frenchmen?

MEN'S WIVES. 215

no, it could not be Shaw, for he was dead au champ d'hon*
neur ; but he would have licked Shaw if he had been alive.
A bargeman I know he licked, at Jack Randall's in Slaugh-
ter House Lane. Old Hawkins was too lazy to play at
cricket; he sauntered all day in the sunshine about the
green, accompanied by little Tippins, who was in the sixth
form, laughed and joked at Hawkins eternally, and was
the person who wrote all his exercises.

Instead of going into town this afternoon, Hawkins re-
mained at Slaughter House, to see the great fight between
the second and third cocks.

The different masters of the school kept boarding-houses
(such as Potky's, Chip's, Wicken's, Pinney's and so on),
and the play-ground, or " green, " as it was called, although,
the only thing green about the place was the broken glass
on the walls that separate Slaughter House from Wilder-
ness Row and Goswell Street — (many a time have I seen
Mr. Pickwick look out of his window in that street, though
we did not know him then) — the play-ground, or green,
was common to all. But if any stray boy from Potky's
was found, for instance, in, or entering into, Chip's house,
the most dreadful tortures were practised upon him, as I
can answer in my own case.

Fancy, then, our astonishment at seeing a little three-
foot wretch, of the name of Wills, one of Hawkins's fags
(they were both in Potky's), walk undismayed amongst us
lions at Chip's house, as the "rich and rare" young lady
did in Ireland. We were going to set upon him and
devour or otherwise maltreat him, when he cried out in
a little, shrill, impertinent voice, " Tell Berry 1 want
him ! "

We all roared with laughter. Berry was in the sixth
form, and Wills or any under boy would as soon have
thought of " wanting " him, as I should of wanting the
Duke of Wellington.

Little Wills looked round in an imperious kind of way.
"Well," says he, stamping his foot, "do you hear? Tell

Berry that HAWKINS wants him ! "

10 Vol. 13

216 MEN'S WIVES.

. As for resisting the law of Hawkins, you might as soon
think of resisting immortal Jove. Berry and Tolmash,
who was to be his bottle-holder, made their appearance im-
mediately, and walked out into the green where Hawkins
was waiting, and, with an irresistible audacity that only
belonged to himself, in the face of nature and all the regu-
lations of the place, was smoking a cigar. When Berry
and Tolmash found him, the three began slowly pacing
up and down in the sunshine, and we little boys watched
them.

Hawkins moved his arms and hands every now and then,
and was evidently laying down the law about boxing. We
saw his fists darting out every now and then with mysteri-
ous swiftness, hitting one, two, quick as thought, as if in
the face of an adversary ; now his left hand went up, as .if
guarding his own head, now his immense right fist dread-
fully flapped the air, as if punishing his imaginary oppo-
nent's miserable ribs. The conversation lasted for some
ten minutes, about which time gown-boys' dinner was over,
and we saw these youths in their black, horned-button
jackets and knee-breeches, issuing from their door in the
cloisters. There were no hoops, no cricket-bats, as usual
on a half-holiday. Who would have thought of play
in expectation of such tremendous sport as was in store
for us?

Towering among the gown-boys, of whom he was the
head and the tyrant, leaning upon Bushby's arm, and fol-
lowed at a little distance by many curious, pale, awe-
stricken boys, dressed in his black silk stockings, which he
always sported, and with a crimson bandanna tied round
his waist, came BIGGS. His nose was ^swollen with the
blow given before school, but his eyes flashed fire. He was
laughing and sneering with Bushby, and evidently intended
to make minced meat of Berry.

The betting began pretty freely : the bets were against
poor Berry. Five to three were offered — in ginger- beer.
I took six to four in raspberry open tarts. The upper boys
carried the thing farther still : and I know for a fact, that

MEN'S WIVES. 217

Swang's book amounted to four pound three (but he hedged
a good deal), and Tittery lost seventeen shillings in a sin-
gle bet to Pitts, who took the odds.

As Biggs and his party arrived, I heard Hawkins say to
Berry, " For Heaven's sake, my boy, fib with your right,
and mind his left hand ! "

Middle Briars was voted, to be too confined a space for
the combat, and it was agreed that it should take place be-
hind the under-school in the shade, whither we all went.
Hawkins, with his immense silver hunting watch, kept the
time ; and water was brought from the pump close to Not-
ley's the pastry-cook's, who did not admire fistycuffs at all
on half -holidays, for the fights kept the boys away from
his shop. Gutley was the only fellow in the school who
remained faithful to him, and he sat on the counter —
the great gormandising brute! — eating tarts the whole
day.

This famous fight, as every Slaughter House man knows,
lasted for two hours and twenty-nine minutes, by Haw-
kins's immense watch. All this time the air resounded
with cries of " Go it, Berry ! " " Go it, Biggs ! " " Pitch
into him ! " " Give it him ! " and so on. Shall I describe
the hundred and two rounds of the combat? — No! — It
would occupy too much space, and the taste for such de-
scriptions has passed away.*

1st round. Both the combatants fresh, and in prime or-
der. The weight and inches somewhat on the gown-boy's
side. Berry goes gallantly in, and delivers a clinker on
the gown-boy's jaw. Biggs makes play with his left.

Berry down.

*****

4th round. Claret drawn in profusion from the gown-
boy's grog-shop. (He went down, and had his front tooth

* As it is very probable that many fair readers may not approve
of the extremely forcible language in which the combat is depicted,
I beg them to skip it and pass on to the next chapter, and to remem-
ber that it has been modelled on the style of the very best writers of
the sporting papers

218 MEN'S WIVES.

knocked out, but the blow cut Berry's knuckles a great

deal.)

*****

15th round. Chancery. Fibbing. Biggs makes dread-
ful work with his left. Break away. Rally. Biggs
down. Betting still six to four on the gown-boy.

* * * * , *

20th round. The men both dreadfully punished. Berry
somewhat shy of his adversary's left hand.

*****

29th to 42nd round. The Chipsite all this while breaks
away from the gown-boy's left, and goes down on a knee.
Six to four on the gown-boy, until the fortieth round, when

the bets became equal.

*****

102nd and last round. For half-an-hour the men had
stood up to each other, but were almost too weary to strike.
The gown-boy's face hardly to be recognised, swollen and
streaming with blood. The Chipsite in a similar condition,
and still more punished about his side from his enemy's
left hand. Berry gives a blow at his adversary's face, and
falls over him as he falls.

The gown-boy can't come up to time. And thus ended
the great fight of Berry and Biggs.

*****

And what, pray, has this horrid description of a battle
and a parcel of school-boys to do with Men's Wives ?

What has it to do with Men's Wives ? — A great deal
more, madam, than you think for. Only read Chapter II. ,
and you shall hear,

MEN'S WIVES. 219

CHAPTER II.
THE COMBAT AT VERSAILLES.

I AFTERWARDS came to be Berry's fag, and, though
beaten by him daily, he allowed, of course, no one else to
lay a hand upon nie, and I got no more thrashing than was
good for me. Thus an intimacy grew up between us, and
after he left Slaughter House and went into the dragoons,
the honest fellow did not forget his old friend, but actually
made his appearance one day in the playground in mous-
taches and a braided coat, and gave me a gold pencil-case
and a couple of sovereigns. I blushed when I took them,
but take them I did; and I think the thing I almost best
recollect in my life, is the sight of Berry getting behind an
immense bay cab-horse, which was held by a correct little
groom, and was waiting near the school in Slaughter House
Square. He proposed, too, to have me to Long's, where
he was lodging for the time ; but this invitation was refused
on my behalf by Dr. Buckle, who said, and possibly with
correctness, that I should get little good by spending my
holiday with such a scapegrace.

Once afterwards he came to see me at Christ Church, and
we made a show of writing to one another, and didn't, and
always had a hearty mutual good-will ; and though we did
not quite burst into tears on parting, were yet quite happy
when occasion threw us together, and so almost lost sight
of each other. I heard lately that Berry was married, and
am rather ashamed to say, that I was not so curious as
even to ask the maiden name of his lady.

Last summer I was at Paris, and had gone over to Ver-
sailles to meet a party, one of which was a young lady
to whom I was tenderly ****** But, never mind.
The day was rainy, and the party did not keep its appoint-
ment; and after yawning through the interminable palace
picture-galleries, and then making an attempt to smoke

220 MEN'S WIVES.

a cigar in the palace-garden — for which crime I was nearly
run through the body by a rascally sentinel — I was driven,
perforce, into the great, bleak, lonely Place before the pal-
ace, with its roads branching off to all the towns in the
world, which Louis and Napoleon once intended to con-
quer, and there enjoyed my favourite pursuit at leisure,
and was meditating whether I should go back to Vefour's
for dinner, or patronise my friend M. Duboux of the Hotel
des Reservoirs, who gives not only a good dinner, but as
dear a one as heart can desire. I was, I say, meditating
these things, when a carriage passed by. It was a smart,
low calash, with a pair of bay horses and a postilion in a
drab jacket, that twinkled with innumerable buttons, and
I was too much occupied in admiring the build of the
machine, and the extreme tightness of the fellow's inex-
pressibles, to look at the personages within the carriage,
when the gentleman roared out " Fitz ! " and the postilion
pulled up, and the lady gave a shrill scream, and a little
black-muzzled spaniel began barking and yelling with all
his might, and a man with moustaches jumped out of the
vehicle, and began shaking me by the hand.

"Drive home, John," said the gentleman; "I'll be with
you, my love, in an instant — it's an old friend. Fitz, let
me present you to Mrs. Berry."

The lady made an exceedingly gentle inclination of her
black velvet bonnet, and said, "Pray, my love, remem-
ber that it is just dinner-time. However, never mind
me." And with another slight toss and a nod to the pos-
tilion, that individual's white leather breeches began to
jump up and down again in the saddle, and the carriage
disappeared, leaving me shaking my old friend Berry by
the hand.

He had long quitted the army, but still wore his military
beard, which gave to his fair, pink face a fierce and lion-
like look. He was extraordinarily glad to see me, as only
men are glad who live in a small town, or in dull company.
There is no destroyer of friendships like London, where a
man has no time to think of his neighbour, and has far too

MEN'S WIVES. 221

many friends to care for them. He told me in a breath of
his marriage, and how happy he was, and straight insisted
that I must come home to dinner, and see more of Angelica,
who had invited me herself — didn't I hear her?

"Mrs. Berry asked you, Frank; but I certainly did not
hear her ask me ! "

" She would not have mentioned the dinner but that she
meant me to ask you. I know she did," cried Frank Berry.
"And, besides — hang it — I'm master of the house. So
come you shall. No ceremony, old boy — one or two friends
— snug family party — and we'll talk of old times over a
bottle of claret."

There did not seem to me to be the slightest objection to
this arrangement, except that my boots were muddy, and
my coat of the morning sort. But as it was quite impossi-
ble to go to Paris and back again in a quarter of an hour,
and as a man may dine with perfect comfort to himself in
a frock-coat, it did not occur to me to be particularly
squeamish, or to decline an old friend's invitation upon a
pretext so trivial.

Accordingly we walked to a small house in the Avenue
de Paris, and were admitted first into a small garden orna-
mented by a grotto, a fountain, and several nymphs in plas-
ter of Paris, then up a mouldy, old, steep stair into a hall,
where a statue of Cupid and another of Venus welcomed us
with their eternal simper ; then through a salle-a-manger,
where covers were laid for six ; and finally to a little saloon,
where Fido the dog began to howl furiously according to
his wont.

It was one of the old pavilions that had been built for a
pleasure-house in the gay days of Versailles, ornamented
with abundance of damp Cupids and cracked gilt cornices,
and old mirrors let into the walls, and gilded once, but
now painted a dingy, French white. The long, low win-
dows looked into the court where the fountain played its
ceaseless dribble, surrounded by numerous rank creepers
and weedy flowers, but in the midst of which the statues
stood with their bases quite moist and green.

222 MEN'S WIVES.

I hate fountains and statues in dark, confined places :
that cheerless, endless plashing of water is the most inhos-
pitable sound ever heard. The stiff grin of those French
statues, or ogling Canova Graces, is by no means more
happy, I think, than the smile of a skeleton, and not so
natural. Those little pavilions in which the old roues
sported, were never meant to be seen by daylight, depend
on't. They were lighted up with a hundred wax-candles*
and the little fountain yonder was meant only to cool their
claret. And so, my first impression of Berry's place of
abode was rather a dismal one. However, I heard him in
the salle-a-manger drawing the corks which went off with
a cloop, and that consoled me.

As for the furniture of the rooms appertaining to the
Berrys, there was a harp in a leather case, and a piano, and
a flute-box, and a huge tambour with a Saracen's nose just
begun, and likewise on the table a multiplicity of those lit-
tle gilt books, half sentimental and half religious, which
the wants of the age and of our young ladies have produced
in such numbers of late. I quarrel with no lady's taste in
that way ; but heigho ! I had rather that Mrs. Fitz-Boodle
should read "Humphrey Clinker."

Besides these works, there was a "Peerage," of course.
What genteel family was ever without one?

I was making for the door to see Frank drawing the
corks, and was bounced at by the amiable, little, black-
muzzled spaniel, who fastened his teeth in my pantaloons,
and received a polite kick in consequence, which sent him
howling to the other end of the room, and the animal was
just in the act of performing that feat of agility, when the
door opened and madame made her appearance. Frank
came behind her peering over her shoulder with rather an
anxious look.

Mrs. Berry is an exceedingly white and lean person.
She has thick eyebrows which meet rather dangerously over
her nose, which is Grecian, and a small mouth with no lips
— a sort of feeble pucker in the face, as it were. Under
Lei eyebrows are a pair of enormous eyes, which she is in

MEN'S WIVES. 223

the habit of turning constantly ceiling- wards. Her hair is
rather scarce and worn in bandeaux, and she commonly
mounts a sprig of laurel, or a dark flower or two, which,
with the sham-tour — I believe that is the name of the knob
of artificial hair that many ladies sport — gives her a rigid
and classical look. She is dressed in black, and has inva-
riably the neatest of silk stockings and shoes ; for forsooth
her foot is a fine one, and she always sits with it before
her, looking at it, stamping it, and admiring it a great deal.
" Fido, " she says to her spaniel, " you have almost crushed
my poor foot;" or, "Frank," to her husband, "bring me
a foot-stool;" or, "I suffer so from cold in the feet," and
so forth ; but be the conversation what it will, she is always
sure to put her foot into it.

She invariably wears on her neck the miniature of her
late father, Sir George Catacomb, apothecary to George
III. ; and she thinks those two men the greatest the world
ever saw. She was born in Baker Street, Portman Square,
and that is saying almost enough of her. She is as long,
as genteel, and as dreary, as that deadly-lively place, and
sports, by way of ornament, her papa's hatchment, as it
were, as every tenth Baker Street house has taught her.

What induced such a jolly fellow as Frank Berry to
marry Miss Angelica Catacomb no one can tell. He met
her, he says, at a ball at Hampton Court, where his regi-
ment was quartered, and where, to this day, lives "her
aunt Lady Pash." She alludes perpetually in conversation
to that celebrated lady ; and if you look in the " Baronet-
age " to the pedigree of the Pash family, you may see
manuscript notes by Mrs. Frank Berry, relative to them
and herself. Thus, when you see in print that Sir John
Pash married Angelica, daughter of Graves Catacomb,
Esq., in a neat hand you find written, and sister of the late
Sir George Catacomb, of Baker Street, Portman Square ;
" A. B. " follows of course. It is a wonder how fond la-
dies are of writing in books and signing their charming ini-
tials! Mrs. Berry's before-mentioned little gilt books are
scored with pencil-marks, or occasionally at the margin

224 MEN'S WIVES.

with a! — note of interjection, or the words "too true. A,
£." And so on. Much may be learned with regard to
lovely woman by a look at the book she reads in; and I
had gained no inconsiderable knowledge of Mrs Berry by
the ten minutes spent in the drawing-room, while she was
at her toilet in the adjoining bed-chamber.

" You have often heard me talk of George Fitz," says
Berry, with an appealing look to inadame

" Very often," answered his lady, in a tone which clearly
meant "a great deal too much." "Pray, sir," continued
she, looking at my boots with all her might, " are we to
have your company at dinner? "

" Of course you are, my dear; what else do you think he
came for? You would not have the man go back to Paris
to get his evening coat, would you? "

" At least, my love, I hope you will go and put on yourst
and change those muddy boots. Lady Pash will be here
in five minutes, and you know Dobus is as punctual as
clock-work." Then turning to me with a sort of apology
that was as consoling as a box on the ear, " We have some
friends at dinner, sir, who are rather particular persons;
but I am sure when they hear that you only came on a sud-
den invitation, they will excuse your morning dress. — Bah,
what a smell of smoke ! "

With this speech madaine placed herself majestically on
a sofa, put out her foot, called Fido, and relapsed into an.
icy silence. Frank had long since evacuated the premises,
with a rueful look at his wife, but never daring to cast a
glance at me. I saw the whole business at once; here was
this lion of a fellow tamed down by a she Van Amburgh,
and fetching and carrying at her orders a great deal more
obediently than her little, yowling, black-muzzled darling
of a Fido.

I am not, however, to be tamed so easily, and was deter-
mined in this instance not to be in the least disconcerted,
or to show the smallest sign of ill-humour : so to renouer
the conversation, I began about Lady Pash

"I heard you mention the name of Pash, I think," said

MEN'S WIVES. 225

I; " I know a lady of that name, and a very ugly one it is
too."

" It is most probably not the same person," answered
Mrs. Berry, with a look which intimated that a fellow like
me could never have had the honour to know so exalted a
person.

" I mean old Lady Pash of Hampton Court. Fat woman
— fair, ain't she — and wears an amethyst in her forehead,
has one eye, a blond wig, and dresses in light green? "

"Lady Pash, sir, is MY AUNT," answered Mrs. Berry
(not altogether displeased, although she expected money
from the old lady; but you know we love to hear our
friends abused when it can be safely done) .

"Oh, indeed 1 she was a daughter of old Catacomb's of
Windsor, I remember, the undertaker. They called her
husband Callipash, and her ladyship Pishpash. So you
see, madam, that I know the whole family ! "

" Mr. Fitz-Simons ! " exclaimed Mrs. Berry, rising, " I
am not accustomed to hear nicknames applied to myself
and my family; and must beg you, when you honour us
with your company, to spare our feelings as much as pos-
sible. Mr. Catacomb had the confidence of his SOVEREIGN,
sir, and Sir John Pash was of Charles II. 's creation. The
one was my uncle, sir, the other my grandfather ! "

"My dear madam, I am extremely sorry, and most sin-
cerely apologise for my inadvertence. But you owe me an
apology too; my name is not Fitz-Simons but Fitz-Boodle."
. "What! of Boodle Hall — my husband's old friend; of
Charles I.'s creation? My dear sir, I beg you a thousand
pardons, and am delighted to welcome a person of whom I
have heard Frank say so much. Frank (to Berry, who
soon entered in very glossy boots and a white waistcoat),
do you know, darling, I mistook Mr. Fitz-Boodle for Mr.
Fitz-Simons — that horrid, Irish, horse-dealing person; and
I never, never, never can pardon myself for being so rude
to him."

The big eyes here assumed an expression that was in-
tended to kill me outright with kindness— from being calm,

226 MEN'S WIVES.

still, reserved, Angelica suddenly became gay, smiling,
confidential, and foldtre. She told me she had heard I was
a sad creature, and that she intended to reform me, and
that I must come and see Frank a great deal.

Now, although Mr, Fitz-Simons, for whom I was mis-
taken, is as low a fellow as ever came out of Dublin, and
having been a captain in somebody's army, is now a black-
leg and horse-dealer by prof ession ; yet if I had brought
him home to Mrs. Fitz-Boodle to dinner, I should have
liked far better that that imaginary lady should have re-
ceived him with decent civility, and not insulted the stran-
ger within her husband's gates. And, although it was de-
lightful to be received so cordially when the mistake was
discovered, yet I found that all Berry's old acquaintances
were by no means so> warmly welcomed; for another old
school-chum presently made his appearance, who was
treated in a very different manner.

This was no other than poor Jack Butts, who is a sort of
small artist and picture-dealer by profession, and was a
day-boy at Slaughter House when we were there, and very
serviceable in bringing in sausages, pots of pickles, and
other articles of merchandise, which we could not other-
wise procure. The poor fellow has been employed, seem-
ingly, in the same office of fetcher and carrier ever since j
and occupied that post for Mrs. Berry. It was, "Mr.
Butts, have you finished that drawing for Lady Pash's al-
bum?" and Butts produced it; and, "Did you match the
silk for me at Delille's? " and there was the silk, bought,
no doubt, with the poor fellow's last five francs; and, " Did
you go to the furniture man in the Rue St. Jacques; and
bring the canary-seed, and call about my shawl at that odi-
ous, dawdling Madame Fichet's; and have you brought
the guitar-strings? "

Butts hadn't brought the guitar-strings; and thereupon
Mrs. Berry's countenance assumed the same terrible expres-
sion which I had formerly remarked in it, and which made
me tremble for Berry.

"My dear Angelica, though," said he with some spirit,

MEN'S WIVES. 227

"Jack Butts isn't a baggage-waggon, nor a Jack-of-all-
trades, you make him paint pictures for your women's al-
bums, and look after your upholsterer, and your canary-
bird, and your milliners, and turn rusty because he forgets
your last message."

" I did not turn rusty, Frank, as you call it elegantly.
I'm very much obliged to Mr. Butts for performing my
commissions — very much obliged. And as for not paying
for the pictures to which you so kindly allude, Frank, /
should never have thought of offering payment for so pal-
try a service; but I'm sure I shall be happy to pay if Mr.
Butts will send me in his bill."

" By Jove, Angelica, this is • too much ! " bounced out
Berry; but the little matrimonial squabble was abruptly
ended, by Berry's French man flinging open the door and
announcing MILADI PASH and Doctor Dobus, which two
personages made their appearance.

The person of old Pash has been already parenthetically
described. But quite different from her dismal niece in
temperament, she is as jolly an old widow as ever wore
weeds. She was attached somehow to the court, and has a
multiplicity of stories about the princesses and the old
king, to which Mrs. Berry never fails to call your attention
in her grave, important way. Lady P^sh has ridden many
a time to the Windsor hounds : she made her husband be-
come a member of the four-in-hand club, and has number-
less stories about Sir Godfrey Webster, Sir John Lade, and
the old heroes of those times. She has lent a rouleau to Dick
Sheridan, and remembers Lord Byron when he was a sulky,
slim, young lad. She says Charles Fox was the pleasantest
fellow she ever met with, and has not the slightest objection
to inform you that one of the princesses was very much in
love with her. Yet somehow she is only fifty-two years
old, and I have never been able to understand her calcula-
tion. One day or other before her eye went out, and before
those pearly teeth of hers were stuck to her gums by gold,
she must have been a pretty-looking body enough. Yet in
Spite of the latter inconvenience, she eats and drinks too

228 MEN'S WIVES.

much every day, and tosses off a glass*of maraschino with
a trembling, pudgy hand, every finger of which twinkles
with a dozen, at least, of old rings. She has a story about
every one of those rings, and a stupid one too. But there
is always something pleasant, I think, in stupid family
stories : they are good-hearted people who tell them.

As for Mrs. Muchit, nothing need be said of her : she is
Pash's companion, she has lived with Lady Pash since the
peace. Nor does my lady take any more notice of her
than of the dust of the earth. She calls her " poor Muchit,"
and considers her a half-witted creature. Mrs. Berry hates
her cordially, and thinks she is a designing toad-eater, who
has formed a conspiracy to rob her of her aunt's fortune.
She never spoke a word to poor Muchit during the whole of
dinner, or offered to help her to anything on the table.

In respect to Dobus, he is an old Peninsular man, as you
are inade to know before you have been very long in his
company; and, like most army surgeons, is a great deal
more military in his looks and conversation, than the com-
batant part of the forces. He has adopted the sham-Duke-
of- Wellington air, which is by no means uncommon in vet-
erans ; and though one of the easiest and softest fellows in
existence, speaks slowly and briefly, and raps out an oath
or two occasionally as it is said a certain great captain
does. Besides the above, we sat down to table with Cap-
tain Goff, late of the Highlanders ; the Rev. Lemuel

Whey, who preaches at St. Germains; little Cutler, and
the Frenchman, who always will be at English parties on
the Continent, and who, after making some frightful efforts
to speak English, subsides and is heard of no more. Young
married ladies and heads of families generally have him for
the purpose of waltzing, and in return he informs his
friends of the club or the cafe that he has made the con-
quest of a charmante Anglaise. Listen to me, all family
men who read this ! and never let an unmarried Frenchman
into your doors. This lecture alone is worth the price of the
whole paper. It is not that they do any harm in one case
out of a thousand, Heaven forbid ! but they mean harm.

MEN'S WIVES. 229

They look on our Susannahs with unholy, dishonest eyes.
Hearken to two of the grinning rogues chattering together
as they clink over the asphalte of the Boulevard with lac-
quered boots, and plastered hair, and waxed moustaches,
and turned-down shirt-collars, and stays and goggling eyes,
Mid hear how they talk of a good, simple, giddy, vain,
dull, Baker Street creature, and canvass her points, and
show her letters, and insinuate — never mind, but I tell you
my soul grows angry when I think of the same ; and I can't
hear of an Englishwoman marrying a Frenchman, without
feeling a sort of shame and pity for her.*

To return to the guests. The Rev. Lemuel Whey is a
tea-party man, with a curl on his forehead and a scented
pocket-handkerchief. He ties his white neckcloth to a
wonder, and I believe sleeps in it. He brings his flute
with him ; and prefers Handel, of course ; but has one or
two pet profane songs of the sentimental kind, and will oc-
casionally lift up his little pipe in a glee. He does not
dance, but the honest fellow would give the world to do it;
and he leaves his clogs in the passage, though it is a wonder
he wears them, for in the muddiest weather he never has
a speck on his foot. He was at St. John's College, Cam-
bridge, and was rather gay for a term or two, he says. Ho
is, in a word, full of the milk-and-water of human kind-
ness, and his family lives near Hackney.

As for Goff, he has a huge, shining, bald forehead, and
immense, bristling, Indian-red whiskers. He wears white
wash-leather gloves, drinks fairly, likes a rubber, and has
a story for after dinner, beginning, " Doctor, ye racklackt
Sandy M'Lellan, who joined us in the West Indies. Wai,
sir," &c. These and little Cutler made up the party.

* Every person who has lived abroad, can, of course, point out a
score of honourable exceptions to the case above hinted at, and
knows many such unions in which it is the Frenchman who honours
the English lady by marrying her. But it must be remembered
that marrying in France means commonly fortune-hunting : and as
for the respect in which marriage is held in France, let all the
French novels in M. Rolandi's library be perused by those who wish
to come to a decision upon the question.

230 MEN'S WIVES.

Now it may not have struck all readers, but any sharp
fellow conversant with writing must have found out long
ago, that if there had been something exceedingly interest-
ing to narrate with regard, to this dinner at Frank Berry's,
I should have come out with it a couple of pages since, nor
have kept the public looking for so long a time at the dish-
covers and ornaments of the table.

But the simple fact must now be told, that there was
nothing of the slightest importance occurred at this repast,
except that it gave me an opportunity of studying Mrs.
Berry in many different ways; and, in spite of the extreme
complaisance which she now showed me, of forming, I am
sorry to say, a most unfavourable opinion of that fair lady.
Truth to tell, I would much rather she should have been
civil to Mrs. Muchit, than outrageously complimentary to
your humble servant ; and, as she professed not to know
what on earth there was for dinner, would it not have been
much more natural for her not to frown, and bob, and wink,
and point, and pinch her lips as often as Monsieur Anatole,
her French domestic, not knowing the ways of English
dinner-tables, placed anything out of its due order? The
allusions to Boodle Hall were innumerable, and I don't
know any greater bore than to be obliged to talk of a place
which belongs to one's elder brother. Many questions
were likewise asked about the dowager and her Scotch rela-
tives, the Plumduffs, about whom Lady Pash knew a great
deal, having seen them at court and at Lord Melville's.
Of course she had seen them at court and at Lord Melville's,
as she might have seen thousands of Scotchmen besides;
but what mattered it to me, who care not a jot for old Lady
Fitz-Boodle? " When you write, you! 11 say you met an
old friend of her ladyship's," says Mrs. Berry, and I faith-
fully promised 1 would when I wrote ; but if the New Post-
Office paid us for writing letters (as very possibly it will
soon), I could not be bribed to send a line to old Lady
Fitz.

In a word I found that Berry, like many simple fellows
before him^ had made choice of an imperious, ill-humoured

MEN'S WIVES. 231

and under-bred female for a wife, and could see with half
an eye that he was a great deal too much her slave.

The struggle was not over yet, however. Witness that
little encounter before dinner ; and once or twice the hon-
est fellow replied rather smartly during the repast, taking
especial care to atone as much as possible for his wife's in-
attention to Jack and Mrs. Muchit, by particular attention
to those personages, whom he helped to everything round
about and pressed perpetually to champagne ; he drank but
little himself, for his amiable wife's eye was constantly
fixed on him.

Just at the conclusion of the dessert, madame, who had
bonded Berry during dinner-time, became particularly gra-
cious to her lord and master, and tenderly asked me if I
did not think the French custom was a good one, of men
leaving table with the ladies.

"Upon my word, ma'am," says I, "I think it's a most
abominable practice."

"And so do I," says Cutler.

"A most abominable practice! Do you hear that?"
cries Berry, laughing, and filling his glass.

" I'm sure, Frank, when we are alone you always come
to the drawing-room," replies the lady, sharply.

"Oh, yes! when we're alone, darling," says Berry,
blushing; " but now we're not alone — ha, ha! Anatole, du
Bordeaux ! "

"I'm sure they sat after the ladies at Carlton House j
didn't they, Lady Pash? " says Dobus, who likes his glass.

" That they did! " says my lady, giving him a jolly nod.

"I racklackt," exclaims Captain Goff, "when I was in
the Mauritius, thatMestress MacWhirter, who commanded
the Saxty-Sackond, used to say, 'Mac, if ye want to get
lively, ye' 11 not stop for more than two hours after the led-
dies have laft ye : if ye want to get drunk, ye' 11 just dine
at the mass.' So ye see, Mestress Barry, what was Mac's
allowance — haw, haw! Mester Whey, I'll trouble ye for
the o-lives."

But although we were in a clear majority, that indomi-

232 MEN'S WIVES.

table woman, Mrs. Berry, determined to make us all as
uneasy as possible, and would take the votes all round.
Poor Jack, of course, sided with her, and Whey said he
loved a cup of tea and a little music better than all the
wine of Bordeaux. As for the Frenchman, when Mrs.
Berry said, " And what do you think, M. le Vicomte? "

" Vat you speak? " said M. de Blagueval, breaking si-
lence for the first time during two hours ; "yase — eh? to
•me you speak? "

" Apry deeny, aimy voo ally avec les dam ? "

" Comment avec les dames ? "

" Ally avec les dam com a Parry, ou resty avec les Messew
com on Onglyterre ? n

" Ah, madame ! vous me le demandez ? " cries the little
wretch starting up in a theatrical way ; and putting out his
hand which Mrs. Berry took, and with this the ladies left
the room. Old Lady Pash trotted after her niece with her
hand in Whey's, very much wondering at such practices,
which were not in the least in vogue in the reign of George
III.

Mrs. Berry cast a glance of triumph at her husband, at
the defection ; and Berry was evidently annoyed that three-
eighths of his male forces had left him.

But fancy our delight and astonishment, when in a
minute they all three came back again; the Frenchman
looking entirely astonished, and the parson and the painter
both very queer. The fact is, old downright Lady Pash,
who had never been in Paris in her life before, and had no
notion of being deprived of her usual hour's respite and
nap, said at once to Mrs. Berry, " My dear Angelica, you're
surely not going to keep these three men here? Send them
back to the dining-room, for I've a thousand things to say
to you." And Angelica, who expects to inherit her aunt's
property, of course did as she was bid ; on which the old
lady fell into an easy chair, and fell asleep immediately,
— so soon, that is, as the shout caused by the reappearance
of the three gentlemen in the dining-room had subsided.

I had meanwhile had some private conversation with lit-

MEN'S WIVES. 233

tie Cutler regarding the character of Mrs. Berry. "She's
a regular screw," whispered he; "a regular tartar. Berry
shows fight though, sometimes, and I've known him have
his own way for a week together. After dinner he is his
own master, and hers when he has had his share of wine ;
and that's why she will never allow him to drink any."

Was it a wicked or was it a noble and honourable thought
which came to us both at the same minute, to rescue Berry
from his captivity? The ladies, of course, will give their
verdict according to their gentle natures ; but I know what
men of courage will think, and by their jovial judgment
will abide.

We received, then, the three lost sheep back into our
innocent fold again with the most joyous shouting and
cheering. We made Berry (who was, in truth, nothing
loth) order up I don't know how much more claret. We
obliged the Frenchman to drink malgre lui ; and in the
course of a short time we had poor Whey in such a state of
excitement, that he actually volunteered to sing a song,
which he said he had heard at some very gay supper party
at Cambridge, and which begins: —

" A pye sat on a pear-tree,
A pye sat on a pear tree,
A pye sat on a pear-tree,
Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho!"

Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the midst
of that Bacchanalian ditty, when she saw no less a person
than the Rev. Lemuel Whey carolling it.

" Is it you, my dear? " cries Berry, as brave now as any
Petruchio. "Come in, and sit down, and hear Whey's
song."

"Lady Pash is asleep, Frank," said she.

" Well, darling! that's the very reason. Give Mrs. Ber-
ry a glass, Jack, will you? "

" Would you wake your aunt, sir? " hissed out madam.

" Never mind me, love ! I'm awake, and like it ! " cried
the venerable Lady Pash, from the salon. "Sing away,
gentlemen ! "

234 MEN'S WIVES.

At which we all set up an audacious cheer; and Mrs.
Berry flounced back to the drawing-room, but did not leave
the door open, that her aunt might hear our melodies.

Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential state
to which a third bottle always brings the well-regulated
mind ; and he made a clean confession to Cutler and myself
of his numerous matrimonial annoyances. He was not al-
lowed to dine out, he said, and but seldom to ask his friends
to meet him at home. He never dared smoke a cigar for
the life of him, not even in the stables. He spent the
mornings dawdling in eternal shops, the evenings at end-
less tea-parties, or in reading poems or missionary tracts
to his wife. He was compelled to take physic whenever
she thought he looked a little pale, to change his shoes and
stockings whenever he came in from a walk. " Look here,"
said he, opening his chest, and shaking his fist at Dobus ;
" look what Angelica and that infernal Dobus have brought
me to."

I thought it might be a flannel waistcoat into which
madam had forced him : but it was worse : I give you my
word of honour it was a pitch-plaster !

We all roared at this, and the doctor as loud as any one ;
but he vowed that he had no hand in the pitch -plaster. It
was a favourite family remedy of the late apothecary, Sir
George Catacomb, and had been put on by Mrs. Berry 's
own fair hands.

When Anatole came in with coffee, Berry was in such
high courage, that he told him to go to the deuce with it ;
and we never caught sight of Lady Pash more, except,
when muffled up to the nose, she passed through the salle-
a-manger to go to her carriage, in which Dobus and the
parson were likewise to be transported to Paris. " Be a
man, Frank," says she, "and hold your own," for the good
old lady had taken her nephew' s part in the matrimonial
business ; " and you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, come and see him
often. You're a good fellow, take old one-eyed Calipash's
word for it. Shall I take you to Paris? "

Dear, kind Angelica, she had told her aunt all I said !

MEN'S WIVES. 235

• "'Don't go, George/' says Berry, squeezing me by the
hand. So I said I was going to sleep at Versailles that
night ; but if she would give a convoy to Jack Butts, it
would be conferring a great obligation on him ; with which
favour the old lady accordingly complied, saying to him,
with great coolness, " Get up, and sit with John in the
rumble, Mr. What-dye-call-'em." The fact is, the good
old soul despises an artist as much as she does a tailor.

Jack tripped to his place very meekly ; and " Remember
Saturday," cried the doctor ; and " Don't forget Thursday,"
exclaimed the divine, — "a bachelor's party, you know."
And so the cavalcade drove thundering down the gloomy
old Avenue de Paris.

The Frenchman, I forgot to say, had gone away exceed-
ingly ill long before ; and the reminiscences of " Thursday "
and " Saturday " evoked by Dobus and Whey, were, to tell
the truth, parts of our conspiracy : for in the heat of Ber-
ry's courage, we had made him promise to dine with us all
round en gargon, with all except Captain Goff, who " rack-
lacted " that he was engaged every day for the next three
weeks, as indeed he is, to a thirty-sous ordinary which the
gallant officer frequents, when not invited elsewhere.

Cutler and I then were the last on the field; and though
we were for moving away, Berry, whose vigour had, if
possible, been excited by the bustle and colloquy in the
night air, insisted upon dragging us back again, and actu-
ally proposed a grill for supper !

We found in the sailer a-manger a strong smell of an ex-
tinguished lamp, and Mrs. Berry was snuffing out the can-
dles on the sideboard.

" Hullo, my dear ! " shouts Berry : " easily, if you please !
we've not done yet ! "

M Not done yet, Mr. Berry ! " groans the lady, in a hol-
low, sepulchral tone.

"No, Mrs. B., not done yet. We are going to have
some supper, ain't we, George? "

"I think it's quite time to go home," said Mr. Fitz-Boo-
die (who, to say the truth, began to tremble himself).

236 MEN'S WIVES.

" I think it is, sir ; you are quite right, sir ; you will par-
don me, gentlemen, 1 have a bad headache, and will retire."

" Good night, my dear ! " said that audacious Berry.
"Anatole, tell the cook to broil a fowl, and bring some
wine."

If the loving couple had been alone, or if Cutler had not
been an attache to the embassy, before whom she was afraid
of making herself ridiculous, I am confident that Mrs.
Berry would have fainted away on the spot ; and that all
Berry 's courage would have tumbled down lifeless by the
side of her. So she only gave a martyrised look, and left
the room ; and while we partook of the very unnecessary
repast, was good enough to sing some hymn tunes to an
exceedingly slow movement in the next room, intimating
that she was awake, and that, though suffering, she found
her consolations in religion.

These melodies did not in the least add to our friend's
courage. The devilled fowl had, somehow, no devil in it.
The champagne in the glasses looked exceedingly fiat and
blue. The fact is, that Cutler and I were now both in a
state of dire consternation, and soon made a move for our
hats, and lighting each a cigar in the hall, made across the
little green where the Cupids and nymphs were listening to
the dribbling fountain in the dark.

" I'm hanged if I don't have a cigar too 1 " says Berry,
rushing after us ; and accordingly putting in his pocket a
key about the size of a shovel, which hung by the little
handle of the outer grille, forth he sallied, and joined us
in our fumigation.

He stayed with us a couple of hours, and returned home-
wards in perfect good spirits, having given me his word of
honour he would dine with us the next day. He put in his
immense key into the grille, and unlocked it ; but the gate
would not open : it was bolted within.

He began to make a furious jangling and ringing at the
bell ; and in oaths, both French and English, called upon,
the recalcitrant Anatole.

After much tolling of the bell, a light came cutting across

MEN'S WIVES. 237

the crevices of the inner door; it was thrown open, and a
figure appeared with a lamp, — a tall, slim figure of a woman,
clothed in white from head to foot.

It was Mrs. Berry, and when Cutler and I saw her, we
both ran as fast as our legs could carry us.

Berry, at this, shrieked with a wild laughter. " Remem-
ber to-morrow, old boys," shouted he, — " six o'clock ; " and
we were a quarter of a mile off when the gate closed, and
the little mansion of the Avenue de Paris was once more
quiet and dark.

The next afternoon, as we were playing at billiards,
Cutler saw Mrs. Berry drive by in her carriage; and as
soon as rather a long rubber was over, I thought I would
go and look for our poor friend, and so went down to the
Pavilion. Every door was open, as the wont is in France,
and I walked in unannounced, and saw this.

He was playing a duet with her on the flute. She had
been out but for half an hour, after not speaking all the
morning ; and having seen Cutler at the billiard-room win-
dow, and suspecting we might take advantage of her ab-
sence, she had suddenly returned home again, and had flung
herself, weeping, into her Frank' s arms, and said she could
not bear to leave him in anger. And so, after sitting for
a little while sobbing on his knee, she had forgotten and
forgiven everything!

The dear angel f I met poor Frank in Bond Street only
yesterday ; but he crossed over to the other side of the way.
He had on galoshes, and is grown very fat and pale. He
has shaved off his moustachios, and instead, wears a respi-
rator. He has taken his name off all his clubs, and lives
very grimly in Baker Street. Well, ladies, no doubt you
say he is right ; and what are the odds, so long as you are
happy?

238 MEN'S WIVES.

DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE.

THERE was an odious Irishwoman and her daughter who
used to frequent the Royal Hotel at Leamington some years
ago, and who went by the name of Mrs. Major Gam. Gam
had been a distinguished officer in His Majesty's service,
whom nothing but death and his own amiable wife could
overcome. The widow mourned her husband in the most
becoming bombazeen sjie could muster, and had at least
half an inch of lamp black round the immense visiting tick-
ets which she left at the houses of the nobility and gentry
her friends.

Some of us, I am sorry to say, used to call her Mrs. Ma-
jor Gammon ; for if the worthy widow had a propensity,
it was to talk largely of herself and family (of her own
family, for she held her husband's very cheap), and of the
wonders of her paternal mansion, Molloyville, County of
Mayo. She was of the Molloys of that county ; and though
I never heard of the family before, I have little doubt,
from what Mrs. Major Gam stated, that they were the most
ancient and illustrious family of that part of Ireland. I
remember there came down to see his aunt a young fellow
with huge red whiskers and tight nankeens, a green coat
and an awful breastpin, who, after two days' stay at the

Spa, proposed marriage to Miss S , or, in default, a

duel with her father ; and who drove a flash curricle with a
bay and a grey, and who was presented with much pride by
Mrs. Gam as Castlereagh Molloy of Molloyville. We all
agreed that he was the most insufferable snob of the whole
season, and were delighted when a bailiff came down in
search of him.

Well, this is all I know personally of the Molloyville
family ; but at the house if you met the Widow Gam, and
talked on any subject in life, you were sure to hear of it.

MEN'S WIVES. 239

If you asked her to have peas at dinner, she would say,
"Oh, sir, after the peas at Molloyville, I really don't care
for any others, — do I, dearest Jemima? We always had
a dish in the month of June, when my father gave his head
gardener a guinea (we had three at Molloyville), and sent
him with his compliments and a quart of peas to our neigh-
bour dear Lord Marrowfat. What a sweet place Marrow-
fat Park is! isn't it, Jemima? " If a carriage passed by
the window, Mrs. Major Gammon would be sure to tell you
that there were three carriages at Molloyville, "the ba-
rouche, the chawiot, and the covered cyar." In the same
manner she would favour you with the number and names
of the footmen of the establishment ; and on a visit to
Warwick Castle (for this bustling woman made one in every
party of pleasure that was formed from the hotel), she gave
us to understand that the great walk by the river was alto-
gether inferior to the principal avenue of Molloyville Park.
I should not have been able to tell so much about Mrs. Gam
and her daughter, but that, between ourselves, I was par-
ticularly sweet upon a young lady at the time, whose papa
lived at the Koyal, and was under the care of Dr. Jephson.

The Jemima appealed to by Mrs. Gam in the above sen-
tence was, of course, her daughter, apostrophised by her
mother, "Jemima, my soul's darling!" or, "Jemima, my
blessed child ! " or, " Jemima, my own love ! " The sacri-
fices that Mrs. Gam had made for that daughter were, she
said, astonishing. The money she had spent in masters
upon her, the illnesses through which she had nursed her,
the ineffable love the mother bore her, were only known to
Heaven, Mrs. Gam said. They used to come into the room
with their arms round each other's waists: at dinner be-
tween the courses the mother would sit with one hand
locked in her daughter's ; and if only two or three young
men were present at the time, would be pretty sure to kiss
her Jemima more than once during the time whilst the
bohea was poured out.

As for Miss Gam, if she was not handsome, candour for-
bids me to say she was ugly. She was neither one nor

" Vol. i.i

240 MEN'S WIVES.

t'other. She was a person who wore ringlets and a band
round her forehead; she knew four songs, which became
rather tedious at the end of a couple of months' acquaint-
ance; she had excessively bare shoulders; she inclined to
wear numbers of cheap ornaments, rings, brooches, ferro-
nieres, smelling-bottles, and was always, we thought, very
smartly dressed, though old Mrs. Lynx hinted that her
gowns and her mother's were turned over and over again,
and that her eyes were almost put out by darning stockings.

These eyes Miss Gam had very large, though rather red
and weak, and used to roll them about at every eligible un-
married man in the place. But though the widow sub-
scribed to all the balls, though she hired a fly to go to the
meet of the hounds, though she was constant at church,
and Jemima sang louder than any person there except the
clerk, and though, probably, any person who made her a
happy husband would be invited down to enjoy the three
footmen, gardeners, and carriages at Molloyville, yet no
English gentleman was found sufficiently audacious to pro-
pose. Old Lynx used to say that the pair had been at
Tunbridge, Harrowgate, Brighton, Ramsgate, Cheltenham,
for this eight years past, where they had met, it seemed,
with no better fortune. Indeed, the widow looked rather
high for her blessed child ; and as she looked with the con-
tempt which no small number of Irish people feel upon all
persons who get their bread by labour or commerce ; and
as she was a person whose energetic manners, costume, and
brogue, were not much to the taste of quiet English coun-
try gentlemen, Jemima, — sweet, spotless flower, — still re-
mained on her hands, a thought withered, perhaps, and
seedy.

Now, at this time, the 120th regiment was quartered at
Weedon Barracks, and with the corps was a certain Assist-
ant-Surgeon Haggarty, a large, lean, tough, raw-boned man,
with big hands, knock-knees, and carroty whiskers, and,
withal, as honest a creature as ever handled a lancet. Hag-
garty, as his name imports, was of the very same nation as
Mrs. Gam, and, what is more, the honest fellow had some

MEN'S WIVES. 241

of the peculiarities which belonged to the widow, and
bragged about his family almost as much as she did. I do
not know of what particular part of Ireland they were
kings, but monarchs they must have been, as have been the
ancestors of so many thousand Hibernian families ; but they
had been men of no small consideration in Dublin, " Where
my father," Haggarty said, "is as well known as King
William's statue, and where he ' rowls his carriage, too,'
let me tell ye."

Hence Haggarty was called by the wags "Howl the car-
riage," and several of them made inquiries of Mrs. Gam.
regarding him: "Mrs. Gam, when you used to go up from.
Molloyville to the Lord Lieutenant's balls, and had your
town-house in Fitzwilliam Square, used you to meet the
famous Doctor Haggarty in society? "

" Is it Surgeon Haggarty of Gloucester Street, ye mean?
The black Papist ! D'ye suppose that the Molloys would sit
down to table with a creature of that sort? "

"Why, isn't he the most famous physician in Dublin,
and doesn't he rowl his carriage there? "

" The horrid wretch ! He keeps a shop, I tell ye, and
•sends his sons out with the medicine. He's got four of
them off into the army, Ulick and Phil, and Terence and
Denny, and now it's Charles that takes out the physic.
But how should I know about these odious creatures?
Their mother was a Burke of Burke' s Town, County Cavan,
and brought Surgeon Haggarty two thousand pounds. She
was a Protestant ; and I am surprised how she could have
taken up with a horrid, odious, Popish apothecary ! "

From the extent of the widow's information, I am led to
suppose that the inhabitants of Dublin are not less anxious
about their neighbours than are the natives of English
cities; and I think it is very probable that Mrs. Gam's ac-
count of the young Haggartys who carried out the medicine
is perfectly correct, for a lad in the 120th made a carica-
ture of Haggarty coming out of a chemist's shop with an
oil-cloth basket under his arm, which set the worthy sur-
geon in such a fury that there would have been a duel be-

242 MEN'S WIVES.

tween him and the ensign, could the fiery doctor have had
his way.

Now, Dionysius Haggarty was of an exceedingly inflam-
mable temperament, and it chanced that of all the invalids,
the visitors, the young squires of Warwickshire, the young
manufacturers from Birmingham, the young officers froin
the barracks, it chanced unluckily for Miss Gam and him-
self, that he was the only individual who was in the least
smitten by her personal charms. He was very tender and
modest about his love, however, for it must be owned that
he respected Mrs. Gam hugely, and fully admitted, like a
good simple fellow as he was, the superiority of that
lady's birth and breeding to his own. How could he hope
that he, a humble assist ant- surgeon, with & thousand pounds
his aunt Kitty left him for all his fortune, — how could he
hope that one of the race of Molloy ville would ever conde-
scend to marry him?

Inflamed, however, by love, and inspired by wine, one
day at a picnic at Kenilworth, Haggarty, whose love and
raptures were the talk of the whole regiment, was in-
duced by his waggish comrades to make a proposal in
form.

"Are you aware, Mr. Haggarty, that you are speaking
to a Molloy? " was all the reply majestic Mrs. Gam made
when, according to the usual formula, the fluttering Jeini-
ma referred her suitor to "mamma."" She left him with
a look which was meant to crush the poor fellow to earth,
she gathered up her cloak and bonnet, and precipitately
called for her fly. She took care to tell every single soul
in Leamington that the son of the odious Papist apothe-
cary had had the audacity to propose for her daughter (in-
deed a proposal, coming from whatever quarter it may,
does no harm), and left Haggarty in a state of extreme de-
pression and despair.

His downheartedness, indeed, surprised most of his ac-
quaintances in and out of the regiment, for the young lady
was no beauty and a doubtful fortune, and Dennis was a
man outwardly of an unromantic turn, who seemed to have

MEN'S WIVES. 243

a great deal more liking for beefsteak and whiskey-punch
than for women, however fascinating.

But there is no doubt this shy, uncouth, rough fellow
had a warmer and more faithful heart hid within him than
many a dandy who is as handsome as Apollo. I, for my
part, never can understand why a man falls in love, and
heartily give him credit for so doing, never mind with what
or whom. That I take to be a point quite as much beyond
an individual's own control as the catching of the small-
pox or the colour of his hair. To the surprise of all,
Assistant- Surgeon Dionysius Haggarty was deeply and se-
riously in love ; and I am told that one day he very nearly
killed the before-mentioned young ensign with a carving-
knife, for venturing to make a second caricature, repre-
senting Lady Gammon and Jemima in a fantastical park,
surrounded by three gardeners, three carriages, three foot-
men, and the covered cyar. He would have no joking con-
cerning them. He became moody and quarrelsome of
habit. He was for some time much more in the surgery
and hospital than in the mess. He gave up the eating, for
the most part, of those vast quantities of beef and pudding,
for which his stomach had used to afford such ample and
swift accommodation ; and when the cloth was drawn, in-
stead of taking twelve tumblers, and singing Irish melo-
dies, as he used to do, in a horrible cracked yelling voice,
he would retire to his own apartment or gloomily pace the
barrack-yard, or madly whip and spur a grey mare he had
on the road to Leamington where his Jemima (although
invisible for him) still dwelt.

The season at Leamington coming to a conclusion by the
withdrawal of the young fellows who frequented that wa-
tering-place, the Widow Gam retired to her usual quarters
for the other months of the year. Where these quarters
were, I think we have no right to ask, for I believe she
had quarrelled with her brother at Molloyville, and be-
sides, was a great deal too proud to be a burden on any-
body.

Not only did the widow quit Leamington, but very soon

244 , MEN'S WIVES.

afterwards the 120th received its inarching orders, and
left Weedon and Warwickshire. Haggarty's appetite was
by this time partially restored, but his love was not altered
and his humour was still morose and gloomy. I am in-
formed that at this period of his life he wrote some poems
relative to his unhappy passion, a wild set of verses of
several lengths, and in his handwriting, being discovered
upon a sheet of paper in which a pitch-plaster was wrapt
up, which Lieutenant and Adjutant Wheezer was com-
pelled to put on for a cold.

Fancy then, three years afterwards, the surprise of all
Haggarty's acquaintances on reading in the public papers
the following announcement : —

"Married at Monkstown on the 12th instant, Dionysius
Haggarty, Esq., of H. M. 120th Foot, to Jemima Amelia
Wilhelmina Molloy, daughter of the late Major Lancelot
Gam, R.M., and granddaughter of the late, and niece of
the present Burke Bodkin Blake Molloy, Esq., Molloyville,
County Mayo. "

Has the course of true love at last begun to run smooth?
thought I, as I laid down the paper ; and the old times,
and the old leering, bragging widow, and the high shoul-
ders of her daughter, and the jolly days with the 120th,
and Doctor Jephson's one-horse chaise, and the Warwick-
shire hunt, and — and Louisa S , but never mind hery

came back to my mind. Has that good-natured, simple
fellow at last met with his reward? Well, if he has not
to marry the mother-in-law, too, he may get on well enough.

Another year announced the retirement of Assistant-
Surgeon Molloy from the 120th, where he was replaced by
Assistant-Surgeon Angus Eothsay Leech, a Scotchman,
probably, with whom I have not the least acquaintance,
and who has nothing whatever to do with this little history.

Still more years passed on, during which time I will not
say that I kept a constant watch upon the fortunes of Mr.

MEN'S WIVES. 245

Haggarty and his lady, for, perhaps, if the truth were
known, I never thought for a moment about them ; until
one day, being at Kingstown, near Dublin, dawdling on
the beach, and staring at the Hill of Howth, as most peo-
ple at that watering-place do, I saw coming towards me a
tall gaunt man, with a pair of bushy red whiskers, of
which I thought I had seen the like in former years, and a
face which could be no other than Haggarty' s. It was
Haggarty, ten years older than when we last met, and
greatly more grim and thin. He had on one shoulder a
young gentleman in a dirty tartan costume, and a face ex-
ceedingly like his own peeping from under a battered plume
of black feathers, while with his other hand he was drag-
ging a light green go-cart, in which reposed a female in-
fant of some two years old. Both were roaring with great
power of lungs.

As soon as Dennis saw me his face lost the dull, puzzled
expression which had seemed to characterise it ; he dropped
the pole of the go-cart from one hand, and his son from
the other, and came jumping forward to greet me with all
his might, leaving his progeny roaring in the road.

" Bless my sowl," says he, " sure it's Fitz-Boodle ! Fitz,
don't you remember me? Dennis Haggarty of the 120th?
Leamington, you know? Molloy, my boy, hould your
tongue, and stop your screeching, and Jemima's too; d'ye
hear? Well, it does good to sore eyes to see an old face.
How fat you're grown, Fitz; and were ye ever in Ireland
before? and an't ye delighted with it? Confess, now, isn't
it beautiful? "

This question regarding the merits of their country,
which I have remarked is put by most Irish persons, being
answered in a satisfactory manner, and the shouts of the
infants appeased from an apple-stall hard-by, Dennis and
I talked of old times, and I congratulated him on his mar-
riage with the lovely girl whom we all admired, and hoped
he had a fortune with her and so forth. His appearance,
however, did not bespeak a great fortune ; he had an old
grey hat, short old trousers, an old waistcoat with regi-

246 MEN'S WIVES.

mental buttons, and patched Blucher boots, such as are not
usually sported by persons in easy life.

" Ah ! " says he, with a sigh, in reply to rny queries,
"times are changed since them days, Fitz-Boodle. My
wife's not what she was — the beautiful creature you knew
her. Molloy, my boy, run off in a hurry to your mamma,
and tell her an English gentleman is coming home to dine,
for you'll dine with me, Fitz, in course? " And I agreed
to partake of that meal, though Master Molloy altogether
declined to obey his papa's orders with respect to announc-
ing the stranger.

" Well, I must announce you myself," said Haggarty,
with a smile. "Come, it's just dinner-time, and my little
cottage is not a hundred yards off/' Accordingly, we all
marched in procession to Dennis's little cottage, which was
one of a row and a half of one-storied houses, with little
court-yards before them, and mostly with very fine names
on the door-posts of each. " Surgeon Haggarty " was em-
blazoned on Dennis's gate, on a stained green copper-plate;
and, not content with this, on the door-post above the bell
was an oval with the inscription of "New Molloy ville."
The bell was broken, of course ; the court, or garden-path,
was mouldy, weedy, seedy ; there were some dirty rocks,
by way of ornament, round a faded glass-plat in the centre,
some clothes and rags hanging out of most part of the win-
dows of New Molloy ville, the immediate entrance to which
was by a battered scraper, under a broken trellis-work, up
which a withered creeper declined any longer to climb.

"Small, but snug," says Haggarty, "Pll lead the way,
Fitz ; put your hat on the flower-pot there, and turn to the
left into the drawing-room." A fog of onions and turf-
smoke filled the whole of the house, and gave signs that
dinner was not far off. Far off? You could hear it frizzling
in the kitchen, where the maid was also endeavouring to
hush the crying of a third refractory child. But as we en-
tered, all three of Haggarty 's darlings were in full war.

" Is it you, Dennis? " cried a sharp raw voice, from a
dark corner in the drawing-room to which we were intro-

MEN'S WIVES. 247

duced, and in which a dirty table-cloth was laid for dinner,
some bottles of porter and a cold mutton-bone being laid
out on a rickety grand-piano hard by. " Ye' re always late,
Mr. Haggarty. Have you brought the whiskey from Now-
lan's? I'll go bail ye've not now."

" My dear, I've brought an old friend of yours and mine
to take pot-luck with us to-day," said Dennis.

" When is he to come? " said the lady. At which speech
I was rather surprised, for I stood before her.

"Here he is, Jemima, my love," answered Dennis, look-
ing at me. "Mr. Fitz-Boodle j don't you remember him
in- Warwickshire, darling?"

" Mr, Fitz-Boodle ! I am very glad to see him," said the
lady, rising and curtseying with much cordiality.

3Irs. Haggarty was blind.

Mrs. Haggarty was not only blind, but it was evident
that small-pox had been the cause of her loss of vision.
Her eyes were bound with a bandage, her features were
entirely swollen, scarred and distorted by the horrible
effects of the malady. She had been knitting in a corner
when we entered^ and was wrapped in a very dirty bed-
gown. Her voice to me was quite different to that in which
she addressed her husband. She spoke to Haggarty in
broad Irish, she addressed me in that most odious of all
languages — Irish-English, endeavouring to the utmost to
disguise her brogue, and to speak with the true dawdling
distingue English air.

"Are you long in I-a-land?" said the poor creature in
this accent. "You must faind it a sad ba'ba'ous place,
Mr. Fitz-Boodle, I'm shu-ah! It was vary kaind of you
to come upon us enfamille, and accept a dinner sans cere-
monie. Mr. Haggarty, I hope you'll put the waine into
aice, Mr. Fitz-Boodle must be melted with this hot
weathah."

• For some time she conducted the conversation in this po-
lite strain, and I was obliged to say in reply to a query of
hers, that I did not find her the least altered, though I
should never have recognised her but for this rencontre.

248 MEN'S WIVES.

She told Haggarty with a significant air to get the wine
from the cellah, and whispered to me that he was his own
butlah, and the poor fellow taking the hint scudded away
into the town for a pound of veal cutlets and a couple of
bottles of wine from the tavern.

" Will the childhren get their potatoes and butther here? "
said a barefoot girl, with long black hair flowing over her
face which she thrust in at the door.

" Let them sup in the nursery, Elizabeth, and send — ah !
Edwards to me."

"Is it cook you mane, ma'am? " said the girl.

" Send her at once ! " shrieked the unfortunate woman ;
and the noise of frying presently ceasing, a hot woman
made her appearance wiping her brows with her apron,
and asking, with an accent decidedly Hibernian, what the
misthress wanted.

" Lead me up to my dressing-room, Edwards, I really
am not fit to be seen in this dishabille by Mr. Fitz-Boodle.M

"Fait' I can't!" says Edwards; "sure the rnasther's
out at the butcher's, and can't look to the kitchen fire! "

" Nonsense, I must go ! " cried Mrs. Haggarty ; and so
Edwards, putting on a resigned air, and giving her arm and
face a further rub with her apron, held out her arm to Mrs.
Dennis, and the pair went up stairs.

She left me to indulge my reflections for half an hour,
at the end of which period she came down stairs dressed in
an old yellow satin, with the poor shoulders exposed just
as much as ever. She had mounted a tawdry cap, which
Haggarty himself must have selected for her, She had all
sorts of necklaces, bracelets, and ear-rings in gold, in gar-
nets, in mother-of-pearl, in ormolu. She brought in a furi-
ous savour of musk, which drove the odours of onions and
turf-smoke before it ; and she waved across her wretched,
angular, mean, scarred features, an old cambric handker-
chief with a yellow lace border.

"And so you would have known me anywhere, Mr.
Fitz-Boodle? " said she, with a grin that was meant to be
most fascinating. " I was sure you would ; for though my

MEN'S WIVES. 249

dreadful illness deprived me of my sight, it is a mercy that
it did not change my features or complexion at all ! "

This mortification had been spared the unhappy woman ;
but I don't know whether with all her vanity, her infernal
pride, folly, and selfishness, it was charitable to leave her
in her error.

Yet why correct her? There is a quality in certain peo-
ple which is above all advice, exposure, or correction.
Only let a man or woman have DULNESS sufficient, and they
need bow to no extant authority. A dullard recognises no
betters; a dullard can't see that he is in the wrong; a dul-
lard has no scruples of conscience, no doubts of pleasing,
or succeeding, or doing right, no qualms for other people's
feelings, no respect but for the fool himself. How can
you make a fool perceive that he is a fool? Such a per-
sonage can no more see his own folly than he can see his
own ears. And the great quality of Dulness is to be unal-
terably contented with itself. What myriads of souls are
there of this admirable sort, — selfish, stingy, ignorant, pas-
sionate, brutal, bad sons, mothers, fathers, never known to
do kind actions !

To pause, however, in this disquisition which was carry-
ing us far off Kingstown, New Molloyville, Ireland, — nay,
into the wide world wherever Dulness inhabits, let it be
stated that Mrs. Haggarty, from my brief acquaintance
with her and her mother, was of the order of persons just
mentioned. There was an air of conscious merit about her,
very hard to swallow along with the infamous dinner poor
Dennis managed, after much delay, to get on the table.
She did not fail to invite me to Molloyville, where she said
her cousin would be charmed to see me ; and she told me
almost as many anecdotes about that place as her mother
used to impart in former days. I observed, moreover, that
Dennis cut her the favourite pieces of the beefsteak, that
she ate thereof with great gusto, and that she drank with
similar eagerness of the various strong liquors at table.
" We Irish ladies are all fond of a leetle glass of punch,"
she said, with a playful air, and Dennis mixed her a power-

250 MEN'S WIVES.

ful tumbler of such violent grog as I myself could swallow
only with some difficulty. She talked of her suffering a
great deal, of her sacrifices, of the luxuries to. which she
had been accustomed before marriage, — in a word, of a
hundred of those themes on which some ladies are in the
custom of enlarging when they wish to plague some hus-
bands.

But honest Dennis, far from being angry at this per-
petual, wearisome, impudent recurrence to her own superi-
ority, rather encouraged the conversation than otherwise.
It pleased him to hear his wife discourse about her merits
and family splendours. He was so thoroughly beaten
down and henpecked, that he, as it were, gloried in his
servitude, and fancied that his wife's magnificence reflected
credit on himself. He looked towards me, who was half
sick of the woman and her egotism, as if expecting me to
exhibit the deepest sympathy, and flung me glances across
the table, as much as to say, u What a gifted creature my
Jemima is, and what a fine fellow I am to be in possession
of her! " When the children came down she scolded them,
of course, and dismissed them abruptly (for which circum-
stance, perhaps, the writer of these pages was not in his
heart very sorry), and, after having sat a preposterously
long time, left us, asking whether we would have coffee
there or in her boudoir.

"Oh! here, of course," said Dennis, with rather a troub-
led air, and in about ten minutes the lovely creature was
led back to us again by "Edwards," and the coffee made its
appearance. After coffee her husband begged her to let
Mr. Fitz-Boodle hear her voice, " He longs for some of his
old favourites."

" No ! do you? " said she ; and was led in triumph to the
jingling old piano, and with a screechy, wiry voice, sung
those very abominable old ditties which I had heard her
sing at Leamington ten years back.

Haggarty, as she sang, flung himself back in his chair
delighted. Husbands always are, and with the same song,
one that they have heard when they were nineteen years

MEN'S WIVES. 251

old, probably; most Englishmen's tunes have that date,
and it is rather affecting, I think, to hear an old gentle-
man of sixty or seventy quavering the old ditty that was
fresh when he was fresh and in his prime. If he has a
musical wife, depend on it he thinks her old songs of 1788
are better than any he has heard since ; in fact he has heard
none since. When the old couple are in high good-humour
the old gentleman will take the old lady round the waist,
and say, "My dear, do sing me one of your own songs,"
and she sits down and sings with her old voice, and, as she
sings, the roses of her youth bloom again for a moment.
Ranelagh resuscitates, and she is dancing a minuet in pow-
der and a train.

: This is another digression. It was occasioned by look-
ing at poor Dennis's face while his wife was screeching
(and, believe me, the former was the most pleasant occu-
pation). Bottom tickled by the fairies could not have been
in greater ecstasies. He thought the music was divine;
and had further reason for exulting in it, which was, that
his wife was always in a good humour after singing, and
never would sing but in that happy frame of mind Dennis
had hinted so much in our little colloquy during the tea
minutes of his lady's absence in the "boudoir;" so, at the
conclusion of each piece, we shouted " Bravo ! " and clapped
our hands like mad.

Such was my insight into the life of Surgeon Dionysius
Haggarty and his wife ; and I must have come upon him at
a favourable moment too, for poor Dennis has spoken, sub-
sequently, of our delightful evening at Kingstown, and evi-
.dently thinks to this day that his friend was fascinated by
the entertainment there. His inward economy was as fol-
lows: he had his half pay, a thousand pounds, about a
hundred a-year that his father left, and his wife had sixty
pounds a-year from the mother, which the mother, of
course, never paid. He had no practice, for he was ab-
sorbed in attention to his Jemima and the children, whom
he used to wash, to dress, to carry out, to walk, or to ride,
as we have seen, and who could not have a servant, as their

252 MEN'S WIVES.

dear blind mother could never be left alone. Mrs. Hag-
garty, a great invalid, used to lie in bed till one, and have
breakfast and hot luncheon there. A fifth part of his in-
come was spent in having her wheeled about in a chair, by
which it was his duty to walk daily for an allotted number
of hours. Dinner would ensue, and the amateur clergy,
who abound in Ireland, and of whom Mrs. Haggarty was a
great admirer, lauded her everywhere as a model of resig-
-nation and virtue, and praised beyond measure the admira-
ble piety with which she bore her sufferings.

Well, every man to his taste. It did not certainly ap-
pear to me that she was the martyr of the family.

"The circumstances of my marriage with Jemima," Den-
nis said to me, in some after conversations we had on this
interesting subject, " were the most romantic and touching
you can conceive. You saw what an impression the dear
girl had made upon me when we were at Weedon ; for from
the first day I set eyes on her, and heard her sing her de-
.lightful song of 'Dark-eyed Maiden of Araby,' I felt, and
said to Turniquet of ours, that very night, that she was the
.dark-eyed maid of Araby for me, — not that she was, you
know, for she was born in Shropshire. But I felt that I
had seen the woman who was to make me happy or misera-
ble for life. You know how I proposed for her at Kenil-
worth, and how I was rejected, and how I almost shot my-
self in consequence, — no, you don't know that, for I said
nothing about it to any one, but I can tell you it was a
very near thing, and a very lucky thing for me I didn't do
it, for, — would you believe it? — the dear girl was in love
with me all the time."

"Was she really?" said I, who recollected that Miss
Gam's love of those days showed itself in a very singular
manner ; but the fact is, when women are most in love they
most disguise it.

" Over head and ears in love with poor Dennis," resumed
that worthy fellow, "who'd ever have thought it? But
I have it from the best authority, from her own mother,
with whom I'm not over and above good friends now,

MEN'S WIVES. 253

but of this fact she assured me, and I'll tell you when and
how.

" We were quartered at Cork three years after we were
at Weedon, and it was our last year at home, and a great
mercy that my dear girl spoke in time, or where should we
have been now ? Well, one day, marching home from pa-
rade, I saw a lady seated at an open window by another,
who seemed an invalid, and the lady at the window, who
was dressed in the profoundest mourning, cried out, with
a scream, ' Gracious heavens ! it's Mr. Haggarty of the
120th.'

"' Sure I know that voice,' says I to Whiskerton.

"' It's a great mercy you don't know it a deal too well,'
says he, ' it's Lady Gammon. She's on some husband-
hunting scheme, depend on it, for that daughter of hers.
She was at Bath last year on the same errand, and at Chel-
tenham the year before, where, Heaven bless you! she's as
well known as the Hen and Chickens.'

"Til thank you not to speak disrespectfully of Miss
Jemima Gam,' said I to Whiskerton; * she's of one of the
first families in Ireland, and whoever says a word against
a woman I once proposed for, insults me, — do you under-
stand!'

"f Well, marry her, if you like,' says Whiskerton, quite
peevish, ( marry her, and be hanged ! '

" Marry her! the very idea of it set my brain a whirling,
and made me a thousand times more mad than I am by
nature.

" You may be sure I walked up the hill to the parade-
ground that afternoon, and with a beating heart too. I
came to the widow's house. It was called * New Molloy-
ville,' as this is. Wherever she takes a house for six
months, she calls it * New Molloyville ; ' and has had one
in Mallow, in Bandon, in Sligo, in Castlebar, in Fermoy, in
Drogheda, and the deuce knows where besides; but the
blinds were down, and though I thought I saw somebody
behind 'em, no notice was taken of poor Denny Haggarty,
and I paced up and down all mess-time in hopes of catch-

254 MEN'S WIVES.

ing a glimpse of Jemima, but in vain. The next day I
was on the ground again; I was just as much in love as
ever, that's the fact. I'd never been in that way before,
look you, and when once caught, I knew it was for life.
.... " There's no use in telling you how long I beat about the
bush, but when I did get admittance to the house (it was
through the means of young Castlereagh Molloy, whom
you may remember at Leamington, and who was at Cork
|or the regatta, and used to dine at our mess, and had taken
a mighty fancy to me), when I did get into the house, I
say, I rushed in medias res at once; I couldn't keep myself
quiet, my heart was too full.

' " Oh Fitz ! I shall never forget the day, — the moment I
was inthrojuiced into the dthrawing-room " (as he begaa
to be agitated, Dennis's brogue broke out with greater rich-
ness than ever, but though a stranger may catch, and re-
peat from memory, a few words, it is next to impossible
for him to keep up a conversation in Irish, so that we had
best give up all attempts to imitate Dennis), " when I saw
old Mother Gam," said he, "my feeling overcame me all at
once; I rowled down on the ground, sir, as if I'd been hit
by a musket-ball. ' Dearest madam,' says I, ' I'll die if
you don't give me Jemima.'

."' Heavens! Mr. Haggarty,' says she, ' how you seize me
with surprise ! Gastlereagh, my dear nephew, had you not
better leave us? ' and away he went, lighting a cigar, and
leaving me still on the floor

" * Rise, Mr. Haggarty,' continued the widow, ' I will not
attempt .to deny that this constancy towards my daughter
is extremely affecting, however sudden your present appeal
may be. I will not attempt to deny that, perhaps, Jemima
may feel a similar ; but, as I said, I never could give my
daughter to a Catholic.'

"'I'm as good a Protestant as yourself, ma'am/ says I;
' my mother was an heiress, and we were all brought up
her way.'

" ' That makes the matter very different,' says she, turn-
ing up the whites of her eyes. ' How could I ever have

MEN'S WIVES. 255

reconciled it to my conscience to see my blessed child mar-
ried to a Papist? How could I ever have taken him to
Molloyville? Well, this obstacle being removed, / must
put myself no longer in the way between two young people.
/ must sacrifice myself, as I always have when my darling
girl was in question. You shall see her, the poor, dear,
lovely, gentle sufferer, and learn your fate from her own
lips.'

"'The sufferer, ma'am,' says I; 'has Miss Gam been
ill?'

" ' What ! haven' t you heard ! ' cried the widow. ' Haven't
you heard of the dreadful illness which so nearly carried
her from me? For nine weeks, Mr. Haggarty, I watched
her day and night, without taking a wink of sleep, — for
nine weeks she lay trembling between death and life, and
I paid the doctor eighty-three guineas. She is restored
now, but she is the wreck of the beautiful creature she was.
Suffering, and, perhaps, another disappointment — but we
won't mention that now — have pulled her so down. But
I will leave you, and prepare my sweet girl for this strange,
this entirely unexpected visit. '

" I won't tell you what took place between me and Jemi-
ma, to whom I was introduced as she sat in. the darkened
room, poor sufferer ! nor describe to you with what a thrill
of joy I seized (after groping about for it) her poor emaci-
ated hand. She did not withdraw it ; I came out of that
room an engaged man, sir ; and now I was enabled to show
her that I had always loved her sincerely, for there was
my will, made three years back, in her favour ; that night
she refused me, as I told ye, I would have shot myself,
but they'd have brought me in nan compos, and my brother
Mick would have contested the will, and so I determined to
live, in order that she might benefit by my dying. I had
but a thousand pounds then, since that my father has left
me two more ; I willed every shilling upon her, as you may
fancy, and settled it upon her when we married, as we did
soon after. It was not for some time that I was allowed
to see the poor girl's face, or, indeed, was aware of the

256 MEN'S WIVES.

horrid loss she had sustained. Fancy my agony, my dear
fellow, when I saw that beautiful wreck."

There was something not a little affecting to think, in
the conduct of this brave fellow ; that he never once, as he
told his story, seemed to allude to the possibility of his de-
clining to marry a woman who was not the same as the
woman he loved ; but that he was quite as faithful to her
now, as he had been when captivated by the poor, tawdry
charms of the silly miss of Leamington. It was hard that
such a noble heart as this should be flung away upon yon-
der foul mass of greedy vanity. Was it hard, or not, that
he should remain deceived in his obstinate humility, and
continue to admire the selfish, silly being whom he had
chosen to worship?

" I should have been appointed surgeon of the regiment, n
continued Dennis, " soon after, when it was ordered abroad
to Jamaica, where it now is. But my wife would not hear
of going, and said she would break her heart if she left her
mother. So I retired on half -pay, and took this cottage ;
and in case any practice should fall in my way, why there
is my name on the brass plate, and I'm ready for anything
that comes. But the only case that ever did come was one
day when I was driving my wife in the chaise, and another,
one night of a beggar with a broken head. My wife makes
me a present of a baby every year, and we've no debts ;
and between you and me and the post, as long as my
mother-in-law is out of the house, I'm as happy as I need
be."

" What, you and the old lady don't get on well? " said I.

"I can't say we do; it's not in nature, you know," said
Dennis, with a faint grin. " She comes into the house, and
turns it topsy-turvy. When she's here I'm obliged to sleep
in the scullery. She's never paid her daughter's income
since the first year, though she brags about her sacrifices as
if she had ruined herself for Jemima; and besides, when
she's here, there's a whole clan of the Molloys, horse, foot,
and dragoons, that are quartered upon us, and eat me out
of house and home."

MEN'S WIVES. 267

" And is Molloy ville such a fine place as the widow de-
scribed it? " asked I, laughing, and not a little curious.

" Oh, a mighty fine place entirely ! n said Dennis.
" There's the oak park of two hundred acres, the finest land
ye ever saw, only they've cut all the wood down. The
garden in the old Molloy 's time, they say, was the finest
ever seen in the west of Ireland; but they've taken all the
glass to mend the house windows, and small blame to them
either. There's a clear rent-roll of three and fifty hundred
a-year, only it's in the hand of receivers; besides other
debts, on which there is no land security."

"Your cousin-in-law, Castlereagh Molloy, won't come
into a large fortune? "

"Oh, he'll do very well," said Dennis. "As long as he
can get credit, he's not the fellow to stint himself. Faith,
I was fool enough to put my name to a bit of paper for
him, and they could not catch him in Mayo ; they laid hold
of me at Kingstown here. And there was a pretty to do.
Didn't Mrs. Gam say I was ruining her family, that's all?
I paid it by instalments (for all my money is settled on
Jemima) ; and Castlereagh, who's an honourable fellow,
offered me any satisfaction in life. Any how, he couldn't
do more than that.''

"Of course not, and now you're friends."

" Yes, and he and his aunt have had a tiff, too ; and he
abuses her properly, I warrant ye. He says that she car-
ried about Jemima from place to place, and flung her at
the head of every unmarried man in England a' most, — my
poor Jemima, and she all the while dying in love with me !
As soon as she got over the small-pox — she took it at Fer-
m0y — God bless her, I wish I'd been by to be her nurse-
tender, — as soon as she was rid of it, the old lady said to
Castlereagh, ' Castlereagh, go to the bar'cks, and find out
in the army list where the 120th is.' Off she came to Cork
hot foot. It appears that while she was ill, Jemima's
love for me showed itself in such a violent way that
her mother was overcome, and promised that, should the
dear child recover, she would try and bring us together.

258 MEN'S WIVES.

Castlereagh says she would have gone after us to Ja-
maica. "

"I have no doubt she would," said I.

" Could you have a stronger proof of love than that? "
cried Dennis. "My dear girl's illness and frightful blind-
ness have, of course, injured her health and her temper.
She cannot in her position look to the children, you know,
and so they come under my charge for the most part ; and
her temper is unequal, certainly. But you see what a sen-
sitive, refined, elegant creature she is, and may fancy that
she's often put out by a rough fellow like me."

Here Dennis left me, saying it was time to go and walk
out the children ; and I think his story has matter of some
wholesome reflection in it for bachelors who are about to
change their condition, or may console some who are mourn-
ing their celibacy. Marry, gentlemen, if you like; leave
your comfortable dinner at the club for cold mutton and
curl papers at your home ; give up your books or pleasures,
and take to yourselves wives and children ; but think well
on what you do first, as I have no doubt you will after this
advice and example. Advice is always useful in matters
of love ; men always take it ; they always follow other peo-
ple's opinions, not their own: they always profit by exam-
ple. When they see a pretty woman, and feel the deli-
cious madness of love coming over them, they always stop
to calculate her temper, her money, their own money, or
suitableness for the married life. * * * Ha, ha, ha!
Let us fool in this way no more. I have been in love
forty-three times with all ranks and conditions of women,
and would have married every time if they would have let
me. How many wives had King Solomon, the wisest of
men? And is not that story a warning to us that Love is
master of the wisest? It is only fools who defy him.

I must come, however, to the last, and perhaps the sad-
dest, part of poor Denny Haggarty's history. I met him
once more, and in such a condition as made me determine
to write this history.

In the month of June last, I happened to be at Rich-

MEN'S WIVES. 259

inond, a delightful little place of retreat ; and there, sun-
ning himself upon the terrace, was my old friend of the
\ 20th ; he looked older, thinner, poorer, and more wretched,
than I had ever seen him.

" What! you have given up Kingstown? " said I, shak-
ing him by the hand.
. "Yes," says he.
• " And is my lady and your family here at Kichmond? "

"No," says he, with a sad shake of the head; and the
poor fellow's hollow eyes tilled with tears.

" Good Heavens, Denny ! what's the matter? " said I.
He was squeezing my hand like a vice as I spoke.

"They've LEFT me! " he burst out with a dreadful shout
of passionate grief — a horrible scream which seemed to be
wrenched out of his heart ; " left me ! " said he, sinking
down on a seat, and clenching his great fists, and shaking
his lean arms wildly. "I'm a wise man now, Mr. Fitz-
Boodle. Jemima has gone away from me, and yet you
'know how I loved her, and how happy we were ! I've got
nobody now; but I'll die soon, that's one comfort; and to
think it's she that'll kill me after all! "
8 The story, which he told with a wild and furious lamen-
tation such as is not known among men of our cooler coun-
try, and such as I don't like now to recall, was a very sim-
ple one. The mother-in-law had taken possession of the
house, and had driven him from it. His property at his
marriage was settled on his wife. She had never loved
him, and told him this secret at last, and drove him out of
doors with her selfish scorn and ill temper. The boy had
died; the girls were better, he said, brought up among the
Molloys than they could be with him; and so he was quite
alone in the world, and was living, or rather dying, on
forty pounds a-year.

His troubles are very likely over by this time. The two
fools who caused his misery will never read this history of
him ; they never read godless stories in magazines : and I
wish, honest reader, that you and I went to church as much
as they do. These people are not wicked because of their

260 MEN'S WIVES.

religious observances, but in spite of them. They are too
dull to understand humility, too blind to see a tender and
simple heart under a rough ungainly bosom. They are
sure that all their conduct towards my poor friend here has
been perfectly righteous, and that they have given proofs
of the most Christian virtue. Haggarty's wife is considered
by her friends as a martyr to a savage husband, and her
mother is the angel that has come to rescue her. All they
did was to cheat him and desert him. And safe in that
wonderful self-complacency with which the fools of this
earth are endowed, they have not a single pang of con-
science for their villainy towards him, and consider their
heartlessness as a proof and consequence of their spotless
piety and virtue.

MEN'S WIVES. 261

THE RAVENSWING.

CHAPTEE I.

WHICH is ENTIRELY INTRODUCTORY — CONTAINS AN AC-
COUNT OF Miss CRUMP, HER SUITORS, AND HER
FAMILY CIRCLE.

IN a certain quiet and sequestered nook of the retired vil-
lage of London — perhaps in the neighbourhood of Berkeley
Square, or at any rate somewhere near Burlington Gardens
— there was once a house of entertainment called the Boot-
jack Hotel. Mr. Crump, the landlord, had, in the outset
of life, performed the duties of boots in some inn even more
frequented than his own, and, far from being ashamed of
his origin, as many persons are in the days of their pros-
perity, had thus solemnly recorded it over the hospitable
gate of his hotel.

Crump married Miss Budge, so well known to the admir-
ers of the festive dance on the other side of the water as
Miss Delancy ; and they had one daughter, named Morgiana
after that celebrated part in the " Forty Thieves " which
Miss Budge performed with unbounded applause both at
the Surrey and the Wells. Mrs. Crump sat in a little bar,
profusely ornamented with pictures of the dancers of all
ages, from Hillisberg, Kose, Parisot, who plied the light
fantastic toe in 1805, down to the Sylphides of our day.
There was in the collection a charming portrait of herself,
done by De Wilde ; she was in the dress of Morgiana, and
in the act of pouring, to very slow music, a quantity of
boiling oil into one of the forty jars. In this sanctuary
she sat, with black eyes, black hair, a purple face and a
turban, and, morning, noon, or night, as you went into the
parlour of the hotel, there was Mrs. Crump taking tea

262 MEN'S WIVES.

(with a little something in it), looking at the fashions, or
reading Cumberland's "British Theatre." The Sunday
Times was her paper, for she voted the Dispatch) that
journal which is taken in by most ladies of her profession,
to be vulgar and Radical, and loved the theatrical gossip
in which the other mentioned journal abounds.

The fact is, that the Royal Bootjack, though a humble,
was a very genteel house; and a very little persuasion
would induce Mr. Crump, as he looked at his own door in
the sun, to tell you that he had himself once drawn off
with that very bootjack the top-boots of His Royal High-
ness the Prince of Wales and the first gentleman in Europe.
While, then, the houses of entertainment in the neighbour-
hood were loud in their pretended liberal politics, the Boot-
jack stuck to the good old Conservative line, and was only
frequented by such persons as were of that way of think-
ing. There were two parlours, much accustomed, one for
the gentlemen of the shoulder-knot, who came from the
houses of their employers hard by ; another for some " gents
who used the 'ouse," as Mrs. Crump would say (Heavea
bless her !) in her simple Cockniao dialect, and who formed
a little club there.

I forgot to say that while Mrs. C. was sipping her eter-
nal tea or washing up her endless blue china, you might
often hear Miss Morgiana, employed at the little red silk
cottage piano, singing^ "Come where the haspens quiver,"
or "Bonny lad march over hill and furrow," or "My art
and lute " or any other popular piece of the day. And the
dear girl sung with very considerable skill too, for she had
a fine loud voice, which, if not always in tune, made up for
that defect by its great energy and activity ; and Morgiana
was not content with singing the mere tune, but gave every
one of the roulades, flourishes, and ornaments as she heard
them at the theatres by Mrs. Humby, Mrs. Waylett, or
Madame Vestris. The girl had a fine black eye like her
mamma, a grand enthusiasm for the stage, as every actor's
child will have, and, if the truth must be known, had ap-
peared many and many a time at the theatre in Catherine

MEN'S WIVES. 263

Street, in minor parts first, and then in Little Pickle, in
Desdemona, in Rosin a, and in Miss Footers part where she
used to dance ; I have not the name to my hand, but think
it is Davidson. Four times in the week, at least, her
mother and she used to sail off at night to some place of
public amusement, for Mrs. Crump had a mysterious ac-
quaintance with all sorts of theatrical personages ; and the
gates of her old haunt, "the Wells," of the Cobourg (by
the kind permission of Mrs. Davidge), nay, of the Lane
and the Market themselves, flew open before her " Open
sesame," as the robbers' door did to her colleague, Ali Ba-
ba (Hornbuckle), in the operatic piece in which she was so
famous.

Beer was Mr. Crump's beverage, variegated by a little
gin, in the evenings ; and little need be said of this gentle-
man except that he discharged his duties honourably, and
filled the president's chair at the club as completely as it
could possibly be filled ; for he could not even sit in it in
his great-coat, so accurately was the seat adapted to him.
His wife and daughter, perhaps, thought somewhat slight-
ingly of him, for he had no literary tastes, and had never
been at a theatre since he took his bride from one. He
was valet to Lord Slapper at the time, and certain it is that
his lordship set him up in the Bootjack, and that stories
had been told. But what are such to you or me? Let by-
gones be bygones, Mrs. Crump was quite as honest as her
neighbours, and Miss had 500£. to be paid down on the day
of her wedding.

Those who know the habits of the British tradesman are
aware that he has gregarious propensities like any lord in
the land; that he loves a joke, that he is not averse to a
glass; that after the day's toil he is happy to consort with
men of his degree ; and that as society is not so far ad-
vanced among us as to allow him to enjoy the comforts of
splendid club-houses, which are open to many persons with
not a tenth part of his pecuniary means, he meets his
friends in the cosy tavern parlour, where a neat sanded
floor, a large Windsor chair, and a glass of hot something

264 MEN'S WIVES.

and water, make him as happy as any of the clubmen in
their magnificent saloons.

At the Bootjack was, as we have said, a very genteel
and select society, called the Kidney Club, from the fact
that on Saturday evenings a little graceful supper of broiled
kidneys was usually discussed by the members of the club.
Saturday was their grand night ; not but that they met on
all other nights in the week when inclined for festivity ;
and indeed some of them could not come on Saturdays in
the summer, having elegant villas in the suburbs, where
they passed the six-and-thirty hours of recreation that are
happily to be found at the end of every week.

There was Mr. Balls, the great grocer of South Audley
Street, a warm man, who, they say, had his 20,000£. ; Jack
Snaffle, of the mews hard by, a capital fellow for a song ;
Clinker, the ironmonger, all married gentlemen and in the
best line of business; Trestle, the undertaker, &c. No
liveries were admitted into the room, as may be imagined,
but one or two select butlers and majordomos joined the
circle, for the persons composing it knew very well how
important it was to be on good terms with these gentlemen :
and many a time my lord's account would never have been
paid, and my lady's large order never have been given, but
for the conversation which took place at the Bootjack, and
the friendly intercourse subsisting between all the members
of the society.

The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, and
two as fashionable tradesmen as any in the town. Mr.
Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famous houses Linsey,
Woolsey, and Co., of Conduit Street, tailors; and Mr.
Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and perfumer of Bond
Street, whose soaps, razors, and patent ventilating scalps,
are known throughout Europe. Linsey, the senior partner
of the tailors' firm, had his handsome mansion in Kegent's
Park, drove his buggy, and did little more than lend his
name to the house. Woolsey lived in it, was the working
man of the firm, and it was said that his cut was as mag-
nificent as that of any man ia the profession. Woolsey

MEN'S WIVES. 265

and Eglantine were rivals in many ways, — rivals in fashion,
rivals in wit, and, above all, rivals for the hand of an ami-
able young lady whom we have already mentioned, the
dark-eyed songstress Morgiana Crump. They were both
desperately in love with her, that was the truth ; and each,
in the absence of the other, abused his rival heartily. Of
the hair-dresser, Woolsey said, that as for Eglantine being
his real name, it was all his (Mr. Woolsey 's) eye; that he
was in the hands of the Jews, and his stock and grand
shop eaten up by usury. And with regard to Woolsey,
Eglantine remarked, that his pretence of being descended
from the cardinal was all nonsense ; that he was a partner,
certainly, in the firm, but had only a sixteenth share ; and
that the firm could never get their moneys in, and had an
immense number of bad debts in their books. As is usual,
there was a great deal of truth and a great deal of malice
in these tales ; however, the gentlemen were, take them all
in all, in a very fashionable way of business, and had their
claims to Miss Morgiana* s hand backed by the parents.
Mr. Crump was a partisan of the tailor; while Mrs. C. was
a strong advocate for the claims of the enticing perfumer.

Now, it was a curious fact, that these two gentlemen
were each in need of the other's services — Woolsey being
afflicted with premature baldness, or some other necessity
for a wig still more fatal — Eglantine being a very fat man,
who required much art to make his figure at all decent. He
wore a brown frock coat and frogs, and attempted by all
sorts of contrivances to hide his obesity ; but Woolsey 's re-
mark, that, dress as he would, he would always look like
a snob, and that there was only one man in England who
could make a gentleman of him, went to the perfumer '9
soul ; and if there was one thing on earth he longed for (not
including the hand of Miss Crump), it was to have a coat
from Linsey's, in which costume he was sure that Mor-
giana would not resist him.

If Eglantine was uneasy about the* coat, on the other
hand he attacked Woolsey atrociously on the score of his
wig; for though the latter went to the best makers, he

266 MEN'S WIVES.

never could get a peruke to sit naturally upon him ; and
the unhappy epithet of Mr. Wiggins, applied to him on
one occasion by the barber, stuck to him ever after in the
club, and made him writhe when it was uttered. Each man
would have quitted the Kidneys in disgust long since, but
for the other, — for each had an attraction in the place, and
dared not leave the field in possession of his rival.

To do Miss Morgiana justice, it must be said, that she
did not encourage one more than another ; but as far as ac-
cepting eau de Cologne and hair-combs from the perfumer,
— some opera tickets, a treat to Greenwich, and a piece of
real Genoa velvet for a bonnet (it had originally been in-
tended for a waistcoat), from the admiring tailor, she had
been equally kind to each, and in return had made each a
present of a lock of her beautiful glossy hair. It was all
she had to give, poor girl! and what could she do but
gratify her admirers by this cheap and artless testimony of
her regard? A pretty scene and quarrel took place between
the rivals on the day when they discovered that each was
in possession of one of Morgiana' s ringlets.

Such, then, were the owners and inmates of the little
Bootjack, from whom and which, as this chapter is exceed-
ingly discursive and descriptive, we must separate the
reader for a while, and carry him — it is only into Bond
Street, so no gentleman need be afraid — carry him into
Bond Street, where some other personages are awaiting his
consideration.

Not far from Mr. Eglantine's shop in Bond Street stand,
as is very well known, the Windsor chambers/ The West
Diddlesex Association (western branch), the British and
Foreign Soap Company, the celebrated attorneys Kite and
Levison, have their respective offices here; and as the
names of the other inhabitants of the chambers are not only
painted on the walls, but also registered in Mrs. Boyle's
" Court Guide," it is quite unnecessary that they should be
repeated here. Among them on the entresol (between the
splendid saloons of the Soap Company on the first floor,
with their statue of Britannia presenting a packet of the

MEN'S WIVES. 267

soap to Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and the West
Diddlesex western branch on the basement) — on the entre-
sol— lives a gentleman by the name of Mr. Howard Walker.
The brass plate on the door of that gentleman's chambers
had the word " Agency " inscribed beneath his name ; and
we are therefore at liberty to imagine that he followed that
mysterious occupation. In person Mr. Walker was very
genteel; he had large whiskers, dark eyes (with a slight
cast in them), a cane, and a velvet waistcoat. He was a
member of a club; had an admission to the opera, and
knew every face behind the scenes ; and was in the habit of
using a number of French phrases in his conversation, hav-
ing picked up a smattering of that language during a resi-
dence " on the Continent ; " in fact, he had found it very
convenient at various times of his life to dwell in the city
of Boulogne, where he acquired a knowledge of smoking,
ecarte, and billiards, which was afterwards of great service
to him. He knew all the best tables in town, and the
marker at Hunt's could only give him ten. He had some
fashionable acquaintances too, and you might see him walk-
ing arm-in-arm with such gentlemen as my Lord Vauxhall,
the Marquess of Billingsgate, or Captain Buff ; and at the
same time nodding to young Moses, the dandy bailiff ; or
Loder,the gambling-house keeper ; or Aminadab, the Cigar-
seller in the Quadrant. Sometimes he wore a pair of mous-
tachios, and was called Captain Walker, grounding his
claim to that title upon the fact of having once held a com-
mission in the service of her majesty the Queen of Portu-
gal. It scarcely need be said that he had been through the
Insolvent Court many times. But to those who did not
know his history intimately there was some difficulty in
identifying him with the individual who had so taken the
benefit of the law, inasmuch as in his schedule his name
appeared as Hooker Walker, wine-merchant, commission-
agent, music-seller, or what not, The fact is, that though
he preferred to call himself Howard, Hooker was his Chris-
tian name, and it had been bestowed on him by his worthy
old father, who was a clergyman, and had intended his soa

268 MEN'S WIVES.

for that profession. But as the old gentleman died in
York gaol, where he was a prisoner for debt, he was never
able to put his pious intentions with regard to his son into
execution; and the young fellow (as he was wont with
many oaths to assert) was thrown on his own resources,
and became a man of the world at a very early age.

What Mr. Howard Walker's age was at the time of the
commencement of this history, and, indeed, for an indefi-
nite period before or afterwards, it is impossible to deter-
mine. If he were eight-and-twenty, as he asserted him-
self, Time had dealt hardly with him ; his hair was thin,
there were many crows' feet about his eyes, and other signs
in his countenance of the progress of decay. If, on the
contrary, he were forty, as Sam Snaffle declared, who him-
self had misfortunes in early life, and vowed he knew Mr.
Walker in Whitecross Street prison in 1820, he was a very
young looking person considering his age. His figure was
active and slim, his leg neat, and he had not in his whis-
kers a single white hair.

It must, however, be owned that he used Mr. Eglantine's
Kegenerative Unction (which will make your whiskers as
black as your boot), and, in fact, he was a pretty constant
visitor at that gentleman's emporium; dealing with him
largely for soaps and articles of perfumery, which he had
at an exceedingly low rate. Indeed, he was never known
to pay Mr. Eglantine one single shilling for those objects
of luxury, and, having them on such moderate terms, was
enabled to indulge in them pretty copiously. Thus Mr.
Walker was almost as great a nosegay as Mr. Eglantine
himself. His handkerchief was scented with verbena, his
hair with jessamine, and his coat had usually a fine per-
fume of cigars, which rendered his presence in a small
room almost instantaneously remarkable. I have described
Mr. Walker thus accurately, because, in truth, it is more
with characters than with astounding events, that this lit-
tle history deals, and Mr. Walker is one of the principal of
our dramatis per sonce.

And so, having introduced Mr. W., we will walk over

MEN'S WIVES. 269

with him to Mr. Eglantine's emporium, where that gentle-
man is in waiting, too, to have his likeness taken.

There is about an acre of plate glass under the royal
arms on Mr. Eglantine's shop window; and at night, when
the gas is lighted, and the washballs are illuminated, and
the lambent flame plays fitfully over numberless bottles of
vari-coloured perfumes — now flashes on a case of razors,
and now lightens up a crystal vase, containing a hundred
thousand of his patent tooth-brushes — the effect of the
sight may be imagined. You don't suppose that he is a
creature who has those odious, simpering wax figures in his
window, that are called by the vulgar dummies? He is
above such a wretched artifice ; and it is my belief that he
would as soon have his own head chopped off, and placed
as a tmnkless decoration to his shop-window, as allow a
dummy to figure there. On one pane you read in elegant
gold letters "Eglantinia" — His his essence for the handker-
chief ; on the other is written " Regenerative Unction " —
His his invaluable pomatum for the hair.

There is no doubt about it: Eglantine's knowledge of his
profession amounts to genius. He sells a cake of soap for
seven shillings, for which another man would not get a
shilling, and his toothbrushes go off like wildfire at half-a-
guinea a-piece. If he has to administer rouge or pearl-
powder to ladies, he does it with a mystery and fascination
which there is no resisting, and the ladies believe there are
no cosmetics like his. He gives his wares unheard-of
names, and obtains for them sums equally prodigious. He
can dress hair — that is a fact — as few men in this age can ;
and has been known to take twenty pounds in a single night
from as many of the first ladies of England when ringlets
were in fashion. The introduction of bands, he says, made
a difference of 2000/. a year in his income ; and if there is
one thing in the world he hates and despises, it is a Ma-
donna. " I'm not," says he, " a tradesman — I'm a hartist
(Mr. Eglantine was born in London). I'm a hartist; and
show me a fine 'ead of air, and I'll dress it for nothink."
He vows that it was his way of dressing Mademoiselle Son-

270 MEN'S WIVES.

tag's hair, that caused the count her husband to fall in love
with her ; and he has a lock of it in a brooch, and says it
was the finest head he ever saw, except one, and that was
Morgiana Crump's.

With his genius and his position in the profession, how
comes it, then, that Mr. Eglantine was not a man of fort-
une, as many a less clever has been? If the truth must be
told, he loved pleasure, and was in the hands of the Jews.
He had been in business twenty years : he had borrowed a
thousand pounds to purchase his stock and shopj and he
calculated that he had paid upwards of twenty thousand
pounds for the use of the one thousand, which was still as
much due as on the first day when he entered business.
He could show that he had received a thousand dozen of
champagne from the disinterested money-dealers with whom
he usually negotiated his paper. He had pictures all over
his " studios," which had been purchased in the same bar-
gains. If he sold his goods at an enormous price, he paid
for them at a rate almost equally exorbitant. There was
not an article in his shop but came to him through his
Israelite providers ; and in the very front shop itself sat a
gentleman who was the nominee of one of them, and who
was called Mr. Mossrose. He was there to superintend the
cash account, and to see that certain instalments were paid
to his principals, according to certain agreements entered
into between Mr. Eglantine and them.

Having that sort of opinion of Mr. Mossrose which Da-
mocles may have had of the sword which hung over his
head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated his foreman profound-
ly. "He an artist," would the former gentleman exclaim,
" why he's only a disguised bailiff! Mossrose, indeed! the
chap's name's Amos, and he sold oranges before he came
here." Mr. Mossrose, on his side, utterly despised Mr.
Eglantine, and looked forward to the day when he would
become the proprietor of the shop, and take Eglantine for
a foreman, and then it would be his turn to sneer and
bully, and ride the high horse.

Thus it will be seen that there was a skeleton in the great

MEN'S WIVES. 271

perfumer's house, as the saying is, a worm in his heart's
core, and though, to all appearance prosperous, he was
really in an awkward position.

What Mr. Eglantine's relations were with Mr. Walker
may be imagined from the following dialogue which took
place between the two gentlemen at five o'clock one sum-
mer's afternoon, when Mr. Walker, issuing from his cham-
bers, came across to the perfumer's shop:
: "Is Eglantine at home, Mr. Mossrose? " said Walker to
the foreman, who sat in the front shop.
. " Don' t know — go and look " (meaning go and be hanged) j
for Mossrose also hated Mr. Walker.

"If you're uncivil I'll break your bones, Mr. Amos,"
says Mr. Walker, sternly.

"•I should like to see you try, Mr. Hooker Walker, >; re-
plies the undaunted shopman, on which the captain, look-
ing several tremendous canings at him, walked into the
back room or "studio." ,

"How are you, Tiny, my buck?" says the captain.
" Much doing? "

"Not a soul in town. I 'aven't touched the hirons
all day," replied Mr. Eglantine, in. rather a desponding
way.

" Well, just get them ready now, and give my whiskers
a turn. I'm going to dine with Billingsgate and some out-
aad-out fellows at the Regent, and so, my lad, just do
your best."

" I can't," says Mr. Eglantine. " I expect ladies, cap-
tain, every minute."

"Very good; I don't want to trouble such a great man,
I'm sure. Good-bye, and let me hear from you this day
wek, Mr. Eglantine." "This day week" meant that at
seven days from that time a certain bill accepted by Mr.
Eglantine would be due, and presented for payment.

"Don't be in such a hurry, Captain — do sit down. I'll
curl you in one minute. And, I say, won't the party re-
new? "
: "Impossible — it's the third renewal."

272 MEN'S WIVES.

"But I'll make the thing handsome to you; — indeed I
will."

"How much? "

" Will ten pounds do the business? "

"What! offer my principal ten pounds? Are you mad,
Eglantine? — A little more of the iron to the left whisker."

"No, I meant for commission."

" Well, I'll see if that will do. The party I deal with,
Eglantine, has power, I know, and can defer the matter,
no doubt. As for me, you know, Tve nothing to do in the
affair, and only act as a friend between you and him. I
give you my honour and soul, I do."

" I know you do, my dear sir. " The two last speeches
were lies. The perfumer knew perfectly well that Mr.
Walker would pocket the 101. ; but he was too easy to care
for paying it, and too timid to quarrel with such a power-
ful friend. And he had on three different occasions al-
ready paid KM. fine for the renewal of the bill in question,
all of which bonuses he knew went to his friend Mr.
Walker.

Here, too, the reader will perceive what was, in part,
the meaning of the word "agency " on Mr. Walker's door.
He was a go-between between money-lenders and bor-
rowers in this world, and certain small sums always re-
mained with him in the course of the transaction. He was
an agent for wine, too; an agent for places to be had
through the influence of great men ; he was an agent for
half-a-dozen theatrical people, male and female, and had
the interests of the latter, especially, it was said, at heart.
Such were a few of the means by which this worthy gen-
tleman contrived to support himself, and if, as he was
fond of high living, gambling, and pleasures of all kinds,
his revenue was not large enough for his expenditure —
why, he got into debt, and settled his bills that way. He
was as much at home in the Fleet as in Pall Mall, and
quite as happy in the one place as in the other. " That's
the way I take things," would this philosopher say. "If
I've money, I spend; if I've credit, I borrow; if I'm

MEN'S WIVES. 273

dunned, I whitewash; and so you can't beat me down."
Happy elasticity of temperament! I do believe that in
spite of his misfortunes and precarious position, there was
no man in England whose conscience was more calm, and
whose slumbers were more tranquil than those of Captain
Howard Walker;

As he was sitting under the hands of Mr. Eglantine, he
reverted to " the ladies," whom the latter gentleman pro-
fessed to expect ; said he was a sly dog, a lucky ditto, and
asked him if the ladies were handsome.

Eglantine thought there could be no harm in telling a
bouncer to a gentleman with whom he was engaged in
money transactions; and so, to give the captain an idea of
his solvency and the brilliancy of his future prospects,
" Captain," said he, " I've got a hundred and eighty pounds
out with you, which you were obliging enough to negotiate
for me. Have I, or have I not, two bills out to that
amount? "

" Well, my good fellow, you certainly have ; and what
then?"

"What then? Why I bet you five pounds to one, that
in three months those bills are paid."

"Done; five pounds to one. I take it."

This sudden closing with him made the perfumer rather
uneasy, but he was not to pay for three months, and so he
said " done " too, and went on, " What would you say if
your bills were paid? "

"Not mine; Pike's."

"Well, if Pike's were paid; and the Minories' man
paid, and every single liability I have cleared off ; and that
Mossrose flung out of winder, and me and my emporium
as free as hair? "

"You don't say so? Is Queen Anne dead? and has she
left you a fortune? or what's the luck in the wind now?"

" It's better than Queen Anne, or anybody dying. What
should you say to seeing in that very place where Mossrose
now sits (hang him!) — in seeing the finest head of 'air now
in Europe ? A woman I tell you — a slap-up lovely woman,

274 MEN'S WIVES.

who, I'm proud to say, will soon be called Mrs. Heglan-
tine, and will bring ine five thousand pounds to her for-
tune."

" Well, Tiny, this is good luck, indeed. I say, you'll
be able to do a bill or two for me then, hay? You won't
forget an old friend? "

"That I won't. I shall have a place at my board for
you, cap ting; and many's the time I shall 'ope to see you
under that ma'ogany. "

"What will the French milliner say? She'll hang her-
self for despair, Eglantine."

"Hush! not a word about 'er. I've sown all my wild
oats, I tell you. Eglantine is no longer the gay young
bachelor, but the sober married man. I want a heart to
share the feelings of mine. I want repose. I'm not so
young as I was, I feel it."

"Pooh, pooh! you are — you are "

" Well, but I sigh for an 'appy fireside ; and I'll have it."

"And give up that club which you belong to, hay? "

"The Kidneys? Oh! of course, no married man should
belong to such places, at least, I'll not; and I'll have my
kidneys broiled at home. But be quiet, captain ; if you
please the ladies appointed to "

" And is it the lady you expect? eh, you rogue ! "

" Well, get along. It's her and her ma."

But Mr. Walker determined he wouldn't get along, and
would see these lovely ladies before he stirred.

The operation on Mr. Walker's whiskers being con-
cluded, he was arranging his toilet before the glass in an
agreeable attitude, his neck out; his enormous pin settled
in his stock to his satisfaction, his eyes complacently di-
rected towards the reflection of his left and favourite
whisker, and Eglantine was laid on a settee in an easy,
though melancholy posture. He was twiddling the tongs
with which he had just operated on Walker with one hand,
and his right-hand ringlet with the other, and he was
thinking — thinking of Morgiana; and then of the bill
which was to become due on the 16th ; and then of a light

MEN'S WIVES. 275

blue velvet waistcoat with gold sprigs, in which he looked
very killing, and so was trudging round in his little cir-
cle of loves, fears, and vanities. " Hang it ! " Mr. Walker
was thinking, "law a handsome man. A pair of whis-
kers like mine are not met with every day. If anybody can

see that my tuft is dyed, may I be " When the door

was flung open, and a large lady with a curl on her fore-
head, yellow shawl, a green velvet bonnet with feathers,
half-boots, and a drab gown with tulips and other large
exotics painted on it — when, in a word, Mrs. Crump and
her daughter bounced into the room.

"Here we are, Mr, E.," cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay,
foldtre, confidential air. "But, law! there's a gent in the
room! "

"Don't mind me, ladies," said the gent alluded to, with
his fascinating way. "I'm a friend of Eglantine's; ain't
I, Egg? a chip of the old block, hay? "

" That you are/' said the perfumer, starting up.

"An 'air-dresser?" asked Mrs. Crump. "Well, I
thought he was; there's something, Mr. E., in gentlemen
of your profession so exceeding, so uncommon distangy."

" Madam, you do me proud," replied the gentleman so
complimented, with great presence of mind. " Will you
allow me to try my skill upon you, or upon miss, your
lovely daughter? I'm not so clever as Eglantine, but no
bad hand, I assure you. "

"Nonsense, captain," interrupted the perfumer, who
was uncomfortable somehow at the rencontre between the
captain and the object of his affection. " He's not in the
profession, Mrs. C. This is my friend Captain Walker,
and proud I am to call him my friend." And then aside
to Mrs. C., "One of the first swells on town, ma'am — a
regular tip-topper."

Humouring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just
made, Mr. Walker thrust the curling-irons into the fire in
a minute, and looked round at the ladies with such a fas-
cinating grace, that both, now made acquainted with his
quality, blushed and giggledf and were quite pleased.

276 MEN'S WIVES.

Mamma looked at 7Gina, and 'Gina looked at mamma;
and then mamma gave 'Gina a little blow in the region of
her little waist, and then both burst out laughing, as ladies
will laugh, and as, let us trust, they 'may laugh for ever
and ever. Why need there be a reason for laughing? Let
us laugh when we are laughy, as we sleep when we are
sleepy. And so Mrs. Crump and her demoiselle laughed
to their heart's content; and both fixed their large shining
black eyes repeatedly on Mr. Walker.

"I won't leave the room," said he, coming forward with
the heated iron in his hand, and smoothing it on the brown
paper with all the dexterity of a professor (for the fact is
Mr. W. every morning curled his own immense whiskers
with the greatest skill and care) — "I won't leave the room,
Eglantine, my boy. My lady here took me for a hair-
dresser, and so, you know, I've a right to stay."

"He can't stay," said Mrs. Crump, all of a sudden,
blushing as red as a peony.

" I shall have on my peignoir, mamma," said miss, look-
ing at the gentleman, and then dropping down her eyes
and blushing too.

"But he can't stay, 'Gina, I tell you; do you think
that I would, before a gentleman, take off my "

"Mamma means her FRONT!" said miss, jumping up,
and beginning to laugh with all her might ; at which the
honest landlady of the Bootjack, who loved a joke, al-
though at her own expense, laughed too, and said that no
one, except Mr. Crump and Mr. Eglantine, had ever seen
her without the ornament in question.

" Do go now, you provoking thing, you ! " continued Miss
C. to Mr. Walker; " I wish to hear the hoverture, and it's
six o'clock now, and we shall never be done against then : n
but the way in which Morgiana said "do go," clearly indi-
cated " don't," to the perspicuous mind of Mr. Walker.

"Perhaps you 'ad better go," continued Mr. Eglantine,
joining in this sentiment, and being, in truth, somewhat
uneasy at the admiration which his " swell friend " excited.

"I'll see you hanged first, Eggy, my boy! Go I won't,

MEN'S WIVES. 277

until these ladies have had their hair dressed : didn't you
yourself tell me that Miss Crump's was the most beautiful
hair in Europe? And do you think that I'll go away with-
out seeing it? No, here I stay."

" You naughty, wicked, odious, provoking man ! " said
Miss Crump. But, at the same time, she took off her bon-
net, and placed it on one of the side candlesticks of Mr.
Eglantine's glass (it was a black velvet bonnet, trimmed
with sham lace, and with a wreath of nasturtiums, convol-
vuluses, and wallflowers within); and then said, "Give me
the peignoir, Mr. Archibald, if you please ; " and Eglantine,
who would do anything for her when she called him Archi-
bald, immediately produced that garment, and wrapped
round the delicate shoulders of the lady, who removing a
sham gold chain which she wore on her forehead, two brass
haircombs set with glass rubies, and the comb which kept
her back hair together, removing them, I say, and turning
her great eyes towards the stranger, and giving her head a
shake, down let tumble such a flood of shining, waving,
heavy, glossy, jetty hair, as would have done Mr. Row-
land's heart good to see. It tumbled down Miss Mor-
giana's back, and it tumbled over her shoulders, it tumbled
over the chair on which she sat, and from the midst of it
her jolly, bright-eyed, rosy face beamed out with a tri-
umphant smile, which said, "A'nt I now the most angelic
being you ever saw? "

" By heavens ! it's the most beautiful thing I ever saw ! "
cried Mr. Walker, with undisguised admiration.

"Isn't it?" said Mrs. Crump, who made her daughter's
triumph her own. " Heigho ! when. I acted at the Wells in
1820, before that dear girl was born, / had such a head of
hair as that, to a shade, sir, to a shade. They called me
Kavenswing on account of it. I lost my head of hair when
that dear child was born, and I often say to her, ' Morgiana,
you came into the world to rob your mother of her 'air.'
Were you ever at the Wells, sir, in 1820? Perhaps you
recollect Miss Delancy? I am that Miss Delancy. Per-
haps you recollect, —

,278 MEN'S WIVES.

"' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink:

By the light of the star,
On the blue river's brink,
I heard a guitar.

" 'I heard a guitar

On the blue waters clear,
And knew by its mu-u-sic,
That Selim was near ! '

You remember that in the " Bagdad Bells " ? Fatima, Delan-
cy ; Selim, Benlomond (his real name was Bunnion ; and he
failed, poor fellow, in the public line afterwards). It was
done to the tambourine, and dancing between each verse, —

" ' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink,

How the soft music swells,
And I hear the soft clink
Of the minaret bells!

" ' Tink-a ' " •

" Oh P' here cried Miss Crump, as if in exceeding pain
(and whether Mr. Eglantine had twitched, pulled, or hurt
any one individual hair of that lovely head I don't know),
. — " Oh, you are killing me, Mr. Eglantine ! "

And with this mamma, who was in her attitude, holding
up the end of her boa as a visionary tambourine, and Mr,
Walker, who was looking at her, and in his amusement at
the mother's performances had almost forgotten the charms
of the daughter, — both turned round at once, and looked
at her with many expressions of sympathy, while Eglan-
tine, in a voice of reproach, said, " Killed you, Morgiana !
I kill you?"

" I'm better now," said the young lady, with a smile, —
"I'm better, Mr. Archibald, now." And if the truth must
be told, no greater coquette than Miss Morgiana existed in
all Mayfair, — no, not among the most fashionable mis-
tresses of the fashionable valets who frequented the Boot-
jack. She believed herself to be the most fascinating crea-
ture that the world ever produced ; she never saw a stranger

MEN'S WIVES. 279

but she tried these fascinations upon him ; and her charms
of manner and person were of that showy sort which is
most popular in this world, where people are wont to ad-
mire most that which gives them the least trouble to see ;
and so you will find a tulip of a woman to be in fashion
when a little humble violet or daisy of creation is passed
over without remark. Morgiana was a tulip among women,
and the tulip-fanciers all came nocking round her.

Well, the said "Oh! " and "I'm better now, Mr. Archi-
bald," thereby succeeded in drawing everybody's attention
to her lovely self. By the latter words Mr. Eglantine was
specially inflamed; he glanced at Mr. Walker, and said,
"Capting! didn't I tell you she was a creecher? See her
hair, sir, it's as black and as glossy as satting. It weighs
fifteen pound that hair, sir; and I wouldn't let my appren-
tice— that blundering Mossrose, for instance (hang him !) —
I wouldn't let any one but myself dress that hair for five
hundred guineas ! Ah, Miss Morgiana, remember that you
may always have Eglantine to dress your hair ! — remember
that, that's all." And with this the worthy gentleman
began rubbing delicately a little of the Eglantinia into
those ambrosial locks, which he loved with all the love of
a man and an artist.

And as for Morgiana showing her hair, I hope none of
my readers will entertain a bad opinion of the poor girl for
doing so. Her locks were her pride ; she acted at the pri-
vate theatre hair parts, where she could appear on purpose
to show them in a dishevelled state ; and that her modesty
was real and not affected may be proved by the fact that
when Mr. Walker, stepping up in the midst of Eglantine's
last speech, took hold of a lock of her hair very gently with
his hand, she cried " Oh ! " and started with all her might.
And Mr. Eglantine observed very gravely, " Capting ! Miss
Crump's hair is to be seen and not to be touched, if you
please."

" No more it is, Mr. Eglantine, " said her mamma ; " and
now as it's come to my turn, I beg the gentleman will be so
obliging as to go."

280 MEN'S WIVES.

" Must I? " cried Mr. Walker ; and as it was half-past
six, and he was engaged to dinner at the Regent Club, and
as he did not wish to make Eglantine jealous, who evident-
ly was annoyed by his staying, he took his hat just as Miss
Crump's coiffure was completed, and saluting her and her
mamma, left the room.

"A tip-top swell, I can assure you," said Eglantine, nod-
ding after him ; " a regular bang-up chap, and no mistake.
Intimate with the Marquess of Billingsgate, and Lord Vaux-
hall, and that set."

"He's very genteel," said Mrs. Crump.

" Law ! I'm sure I think nothing of him," said Morgiana.

And Captain Walker walked towards his club, meditat-
ing on the beauties of Morgiana. " What hair," said he,
"what eyes the girl has! they're as big as billiard balls;
and 5000Z. Eglantine's in luck: 5000Z. — she can't have
it, it's impossible! "

No sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, during the
time of which operation Morgiana sat in perfect content-
ment looking at the last French fashions in the Courrier
des Dames, and thinking how her pink satin slip would
dye, and make just such a mantilla as that represented in
the engraving, — no sooner was Mrs. Crump's front ar-
ranged, than both ladies, taking leave of Mr. Eglantine,
tripped back to the Bootjack Hotel in the neighbourhood,
where a very neat green fly was already in waiting, the
gentleman on the box of which (from a livery-stable in the
neighbourhood) gave a knowing touch to his hat, and a
salute with his whip, to the two ladies, as they entered the
tavern.

"Mr. W.'s inside," said the man, a driver from Mr.
Snaffle's establishment; "he's been in and out this score of
times, and looking down the street for you." And in the
house, in fact, was Mr. Woolsey, the tailor, who had hired
the fly and was engaged to conduct the ladies that evening
to the play.

It was really rather too bad to think that Miss Morgiana,
after going to one lover to have her hair dressed, should go

MEN'S WIVES. 281

with another to the play ; but such is the way with lovely
woman ! Let her have a dozen admirers, and the dear co-
quette will exercise her power upon them all: and as a
lady, when she has a large wardrobe, and a taste for variety
in dress, will appear every day in a different costume ; so
will the young and giddy beauty wear her lovers, encourag-
ing now the black whiskers, now smiling on the brown,
now thinking that the gay smiling rattle of an admirer be-
comes her very well, and now adopting the sad sentimental
melancholy one, according as her changeful fancy prompts
her. Let us not be too angry with these uncertainties and
caprices of beauty, and depend on it that, for the most
part, those females who cry out loudest against the flighti-
ness of their sisters, and rebuke their undue encouragement
of this man or that, would do as much themselves if they
had the chance, and are constant, as I am to my coat just
now, because I have no other.

" Did you see Doubleyou, 'Gina dear? " said her mamma,
addressing that young lady. "He's in the bar with your
pa, and has his military coat with the king's button, and
looks like an officer."

This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being to
look like an army gent, for many of whom he in his capac-
ity of tailor made those splendid red and blue coats which
characterise our military. As for the royal button, had
not he made a set of coats for his late majesty, George IV. ?
and he would add, when he narrated this circumstance,
"Sir, Prince Blucher and Prince Swartzenberg's measure's
in the house now; and what's more, I've cut for Welling-
ton." I believe he would have gone to St. Helena to make
a coat for Napoleon, so great was his ardour. He wore a
blue black wig, and his whiskers were of the same hue.
He was brief and stern in conversation; and he always
went to masquerades and balls in a field-marshal's uni-
form. •

"He looks really quite the thing to-night," continued
Mrs. Crump.

"Yes," said 'Gina; "but he's such an odious wig, and

282 MEN' S WIVE8.

the dye of his whiskers always comes off on his white
gloves."

"Everybody has not their own hair, love," continued
Mrs. Crump with a sigh; "but Eglantine's is beautiful."

"Every hairdresser's is," answered Morgiana, rather
contemptuously ; " but what I can't bear is, that their fin-
gers is always so very fat and pudgy."

In fact, something had gone wrong with the fair Morgi-
ana. Was it that she had but little liking for the one
pretender or the other? Was it that young Glauber, who
acted Romeo in the private theatricals, was far younger and
more agreeable than either? Or was it, that seeing a real
gentleman, such as Mr. Walker, with whom she had had
her first interview, she felt more and more the want of re-
finement in her other declared admirers? Certain, how-
ever, it is, that she was very reserved all the evening, in
spite of the attentions of Mr. Woolsey ; that she repeatedly
looked round at the box-door, as if she expected some one
to enter ; and that she partook of only a very few oysters,
indeed, out of the barrel which the gallant tailor had sent
down to the Bootjack, and off which the party supped,

" What is it? " said Mr. Woolsey to his ally, Crump, as
they sat together after the retirement of the ladies. " She
was dumb all night. She never once laughed at the farce,
nor cried at the tragedy, and you know she laughs and cries
uncommon. She only took half her negus, and not above
a quarter of her beer. "

"No more she did!" replied Mr. Crump, very calmly.
" I think it must be the barber as has been captivating her :
he dressed her hair for the play."

"Hang him, I'll shoot him!" said Mr. Woolsey. "A
fat, foolish, effeminate beast like that marry Miss Morgi-
ana? Never! I will shoot him. I'll provoke him next
Saturday — I'll tread on his toe — I'll pull his nose! "

"No quarrelling at the Kidneys!" answered Crump,
sternly; "there shall be no quarrelling in that room as
long as I'm in the chair! "

" Well, at any rate you'll stand my friend? "

MEN'S WIVES. 283

"You know I will," answered the other. "You are
honourable, and I like you better than Eglantine. I trust
you more than Eglantine, sir. You're more of a man than
Eglantine, though you are a tailor; and I wish with all
my heart you may get Morgiana. Mrs. C. goes the other
way, I know : but I tell you what, women will go their
own ways, sir, and Morgy's like her mother in this point,
and, depend upon it, Morgy will decide for herself."

Mr. Woolsey presently went home, still persisting in his
plan for the assassination of Eglantine. Mr. Crump went
to bed very quietly, and snored through the night at his
usual tone, Mr. Eglantine passed some feverish moments
of jealousy, for he had come down to the club in the even-
ing, and had heard that Morgiana was gone to the play
with his rival. And Miss Morgiana dreamed of a man,
who was, — must we say it? — exceedingly like Captain
Howard Walker. "Mrs. Captain So and So!" thought
she, "0>;I do love a gentleman dearly! "
„ And about this time, too, Mr. Walker himself came roll-
ing home from the Regent, hiccupping, " Such hair ! — such
eyebrows! — such eyes! like b-b-billiard-balls, by Jove!"

CHAPTER II.

IN WHICH MR, WALKER MAKES THREE ATTEMPTS TO
ASCERTAIN THE DWELLING OP MORGIANA.

THE day after the dinner at the Regent Club, Mr.
Walker stepped over to the shop of his friend the per-
fumer, where, as usual, the young man, Mr. Mossrose, was
established in the front premises.

For some reason or other, the captain was particularly
good-humoured; and, quite forgetful of the words which
had passed between him and Mr. Eglantine's lieutenant
the day before, began addressing the latter with extreme
cordiality.

"A good morning to you, Mr. Mossrose," said Captain

284 MEN'S WIVES.

Walker. " Why, sir, you look as fresh as your namesake,
— you do, indeed, now, Mossrose."

"You look ash yellow ash a guinea," responded Mr.
Mossrose, sulkily. He thought the captain was hoaxing
him.

"My good sir," replies the other, nothing cast down, "I
drank rather too freely last night."

" The more beast you ! " said Mr. Mossrose.

"Thank you, Mossrose; the same to you," answered the
captain.

" If you call me a beast I'll punch your head off! " an-
swered the young man, who had much skill in the art
which many of his brethren practise.

"I didn't, my fine fellow," replied Walker; "on the
contrary, you —

"Do you mean to give me the lie?" broke out the in-
dignant Mossrose, who hated the agent fiercely, and did
not in the least care to conceal his hate.

In fact, it was his fixed purpose to pick a quarrel with
Walker, and to drive him, if possible, from Mr. Eglan-
tine's shop. "Do you mean to give me the lie, I. say, Mr.
Hooker Walker? "

"For Heaven's sake, Amos, hold your tongue!" ex-
claimed the captain, to whom the name of Hooker was as
poison; but at this moment, a customer stepping in, Mr.
Amos exchanged his ferocious aspect for a bland grin, and
Mr. Walker walked into the studio.

When in Mr. Eglantine's presence, Walker, too, was all
smiles in a minute, sunk down on a settee, held out his
hand to the perfumer, and began confidentially discoursing
with him.

"Such a dinner, Tiny, my boy," said he; "such prime
fellows to eat it, too! Billingsgate, Vauxhall, Cinqbars,
Buff of the Blues, and half-a-dozen more of the best fel-
lows in town. And what do you think the dinner cost
a-head? I'll wager you'll never guess."

" Was it two guineas a-head? — In course I mean without
wine," said the genteel perfumer.

MEN'S WIVES.

" Guess again ! "

" Well, was it ten guineas a-head? I'll guess any sum
you please," replied Mr. Eglantine; "for I know that
when you nobs are together, you don't spare your money.
I, myself, at the Star and Garter at Eichmond, once
paid—"

"Eighteen-pence?"

" Heighteen-pence, sir? — I paid five-and-thirty shillings
per 'ead. I'd have you to know that I can act as a gen-
tleman as well as any other gentleman, sir," answered the
perfumer with much dignity.

" Well, eighteen-pence was what we paid, and not a rap
more upon my honour. "

"Nonsense, you're joking. The Marquess of Billings-
gate dine for eighteen-pence? Why, hang it, if I was a
marquess, I'd pay a five-pound note for my lunch."

. " You little know the person, Master Eglantine," replied
the captain, with a smile of contemptuous superiority ;
"you little know the real man of fashion, my good fellow.
Simplicity, sir, — simplicity's the characteristic: of the real
gentleman, and so I'll tell you what we had for dinner."

" Turtle and venison, of course ; — no nob dines without
them." i :

"Psha! we're sick of 'em! We had pea-soup and
boiled tripe ! W hat do you think of that ? We had sprats
and herrings, a bullock's heart, a baked shoulder of mut-
ton and potatoes, pig's fry and Irish stew, /ordered the
dinner, sir, and got more credit for inventing it than they
ever gave to Ude or Soyer. The marquess was in ecstasies,
the earl devoured half a bushel of sprats, and if the
viscount is not laid up with a surfeit of bullock's heart,
my name's not Howard Walker. Billy, as I call him, was
in the chair, and gave my health ; and what do you think
the rascal proposed? "

" What did his lordship propose? "

"That every man present should subscribe twopence,
and pay for my share of the dinner. By Jove ! it is true,
and the money was handed to me in a pewter-pot, of

286 MEN'S WIVES.

which they also begged to make me a present. We after-
wards went to Tom Spring's, from Tom's to the Finish,
from the Finish to the watchhouse — that is, they did, — •
and sent for me, just as I was getting into bed, to bail
them all out."

"They're happy dogs, those young noblemen," said Mr.
Eglantine ; " nothing but pleasure from morning till night ;
no affectation, neither, — no hoture ; but manly, downright,
straightforward good fellows."

"Should you like to meet them, Tiny, my boy?" said
the captain.

" If I did, sir, I hope I should show myself to be the
gentleman," answered Mr. Eglantine.

"Well, you shall meet them, and Lady Billingsgate
shall order her perfumes at your shop. We are going to
dine, next week, all our set, at mealy-faced Bob's, and you
shall be my guest," cried the captain, slapping the de-
lighted artist on the back. "And now, my boy, tell me
how you spent the evening."

"At my club, sir," answered Mr. Eglantine, blushing
rather.

" What, not at the play with the lovely black-eyed Miss
— what is her name, Eglantine? "

"Never mind her name, captain," replied Eglantine,
partly from prudence and partly from shame. He had not
the heart to own it was Crump, and he did not care that
the captain should know more of his destined bride.

"You wish to keep the five thousand to yourself, eh!
you rogue? " responded the captain, with a good-humoured
air, although exceedingly mortified ; for, to say the truth,
he had put himself to the trouble of telling the above long
story of the dinner, and of promising to introduce Eglan-
tine to the lords, solely that he might elicit from that gen-
tleman's good-humour some further particulars regarding
the young lady with the billiard-ball eyes. It was for the
very same reason, too, that, he had made the attempt at
reconciliation with Mr Mossrose, which had just so sig-
nally failed. Nor would the reader, did he know Mr. W.

MEN'S WIVES. 287

better, at all require to have the above explanation ; but
as yet we are only at the first chapter of his history, and
who is to know what the hero's motives can be unless we
take the trouble to explain?

Well, the little dignified answer of the worthy dealer in
bergamot, " Never mind her name, captain f " threw the gal-
lant captain quite back ; and though he sat for a quarter of
an hour longer, and was exceedingly kind ; and though he
threw out some skilful hints, yet the perfumer was quite
unconquerable ; or, rather, he was too frightened to tell ;
the poor, fat, timid, easy, good-natured gentleman was al-
ways the prey of rogues, — panting and floundering in one
rascal's snare or another's. He had the dissimulation,
too, which timid men have; and felt the presence of a vic-
tirniser as a hare does of a greyhound. Now he would be
quite still, now he would double, and now he would run,
and then came the end. He knew, by his sure instinct of
fear, that the captain had, in asking these questions, a
scheme against him, and so he was cautious, and trembled,
and doubted. And oh! how he thanked his stars when
Lady Grogmore's chariot drove up, with the Misses Grog-
more, who wanted their hair dressed, and were going to a
breakfast at three o'clock!

"I'll look in again, Tiny," said the captain, on hearing
the summons.

"Do, captain," replied the other: "thank you;" and
went into the lady's studio with a heavy heart.

" Get out of the way you infernal villain ! " roared the
captain, with many oaths, to Lady Grogmore's large foot-
man, with ruby-coloured tights, who was standing inhaling
the ten thousand perfumes of the shop; and the latter,
moving away in great terror, the gallant agent passed out,
quite heedless of the grin of Mr. Mossrose.

Walker was in a fury at his want of success, and walked
down Bond Street in a fury. " I will know where the girl
lives ! " swore he. " I'll spend a five-pound note, by Jove !
rather than not know where she lives ! "

" That you would — / know you would ! " said a little,

13 Vol. 13

MEN'S WIVES.

grave, low, voice, all of a sudden, by his side. "Pooh!
what's money to you? "

Walker looked down ; it was Tom Dale.

Who in London did not know little Tom Dale? He had
cheeks like an apple, and his hair curled every morning,
and a little blue stock, and always two new magazines
under his arm, and an umbrella and a little brown frock
coat, and big square-toed shoes with which he went pap-
ping down the street. He was everywhere at once. Ev-
erybody met him every day, and he knew everything that
everybody ever did ; though nobody ever knew what he
did. He was, they say, a hundred years old, and had
never dined at his own charge once in those hundred years.
He looked like a figure out of a wax- work, with glassy,
clear, meaningless eyes ; he always spoke with a grin ; he
knew what you had for dinner the day before he met you,
and what everybody had had for dinner for a century back
almost. He was the receptacle of all the scandal of all
the world, from Bond Street to Bread Street ; he knew all
the authors, all the actors, all the "notorieties" of the
town, and the private histories of each. That is he never
knew anything really, but supplied deficiencies of truth
and memory, with ready-coined, never-failing lies. He
was the most benevolent man in the universe, and never
saw you without telling you everything most cruel of your
neighbour, and when he left you he went to do the same
kind turn by yourself.

"Pooh! what's money to you, my dear boy? " said little
Tom Dale, who had just come out of Ebers's, where he
had been filching an opera ticket. " You make it in bushels
in the city, you know you do, — in thousands, / saw you
go into Eglantine's. Fine business that; finest in London.
Five shilling cakes of soap, my dear boy. / can't wash
with such; thousands a-year that man has made — hasn't
he?"

"Upon my word, Tom, I don't know," says the cap-
tain.

" You not know? Don't tell me. You know everything

MEN'S WIVES. 289

— you agents. You know he makes five thousand a-year,
— ay, and might make ten but you know why he don't."

"Indeed I don't."

" Nonsense. Don't humbug a poor old fellow like me.
Jews — Amos — fifty per cent, ay? Why can't he get his
money from a good Christian? "

" I have heard something of that sort," said Walker,
laughing. " Why, by Jove, Tom, you know everything ! "

" You know everything, my dear boy. You know what
a rascally trick that opera creature served him, poor fel-
low. Cashmere shawls — Storr and Mortimer's — Star and
Garter. Much better dine quiet off pea-soup and sprats, —
ay? His betters have, as you know very well."

" Pea-soup and sprats ! What have you heard of that
already? "

" Who bailed Lord Billingsgate, ay, you rogue? " and
here Tom gave a knowing and almost demoniacal grin.
"Who wouldn't go to the Finish? Who had the piece of
plate presented to him filled with sovereigns? And you
deserved it, my dear boy — you deserved it. They said it
was only halfpence, but 1 know better ! " and here Tom
went off in a cough.

" I say, Tom," cried Walker, inspired with a sudden
thought, " you, who know everything, and are a theatrical
man, did you ever know a Miss Delancy, an actress? "

"At Sadler's Wells in '16? Of course I did. Real
name was Budge. Lord Slapper admired her very much,
iny dear boy. She married a man by the name of Crump,
his lordship's black footman, and brought him five thou-
sand pounds ; and they keep the Bootjack public-house in
Bunker's Buildings, and they've got fourteen children. Is
one of them handsome, eh, you sly rogue, — and is it that
which you will give five pounds to know? God bless you,
my dear, dear boy. Jones, my dear friend, how are you? "

And now, seizing on Jones, Tom Dale left Mr. Walker
alone, and proceeded to pour into Mr. Jones's ear an ac-
count of the individual whom he had just quitted ; how he
was the best fellow in the world, and Jonos knew it ; how

290 MEN'S WIVES.

he was in a fine way of making his fortune ; how he had
been in the Fleet many times, and how he was at this mo-
ment employed in looking out for a young lady of whom a
certain great marquess (whom Jones knew very well, too)
had expressed an admiration.

But for these observations, which he did not hear, Cap-
tain Walker, it may be pronounced, did not care. His
eyes brightened up, he inarched quickly and gaily away;
and turning into his own chambers opposite Eglantine's
shop, saluted that establishment with a grin of triumph.
" You wouldn't tell me her name, wouldn't you? " said Mr.
Walker. *' Well, the luck's with me now, and here goes."

Two days after as Mr. Eglantine, with white gloves and
a case of eau de Cologne as a present in his pocket, arrived
at the Bootjack Hotel, Little Bunker's Buildings, Berkeley
Square (for it must out — that was the place in which Mr.
Crump's inn was situated), he paused for a moment at the
threshold of the little house of entertainment, and listened,
with beating heart, to the sound of delicious music that a
well-known voice was uttering within.

The moon was playing in silvery brightness down the
gutter of the humble street. A " helper/' rubbing down
one of Lady Smigsmag's carriage horses, even paused in
his whistle to listen to the strain. Mr. Tressle's man, who
had been professionally occupied, ceased his tap-tap upon
the coffin which he was getting in readiness. The green-
grocer (there is always a greengrocer in those narrow
streets, and he goes out in white Berlin gloves as a super-
numerary footman) was standing charmed at his little
green gate ; the cobbler (there is always a cobbler, too) was
drunk, as usual, of evenings, but, with unusual subordina-
tion, never sung except when the refrain of the ditty ar-
rived, when he hiccupped it forth with tipsy loyalty ; and
Eglantine leaned against the Chequers painted on the door-
side under the name of Crump, and looked at the red illu-
mined curtain of the bar, and the vast, well-known shadow
of Mrs. Crump's turban within. Now and again the
shadow of that worthy matron's hand would be seen to

MEN'S WIVES. 291

grasp the shadow of a bottle ; then the shadow of a cup
would rise towards the turban, and still the strain pro-
ceeded. Eglantine, I say, took out his yellow bandana,
and brushed the beady drops from his brow, and laid the
contents of his white kids on his heart, and sighed with
ecstatic sympathy. The song began,—

Come to the greenwood tree,*
Come where the dark woods be,
Dearest, oh come with me !
Let us rove — oh my love — oh my love!
Oh my-y lovet
(Drunken Gobbler without), Oh, my-y love I

" Beast ! " says Eglantine.

Come — 'tis the moonlight hour,
Dew is on leaf and flower,
Come to the linden bower, —
Let us rove — oh my love — oh my love f
Let us ro-o-ove, lurlurliety ; yes we'll rove, lurlurliety,
Through the gro o-ove, lurlurliety — lurlurli e-i-e-i e it
(Gobbler as usual.) Let us ro o ove, &c

" You here?" says another individual, coming clinking
up the street, in a military cut dress-coat, the buttons
whereof shone very bright in the moonlight " You here,
Eglantine? — You're always here."

"Hush, Woolsey," said Mr. Eglantine to his rival the
tailor (for he was the individual in question); and Wool-
sey, accordingly, put his back against the opposite door-
post and Chequers, so that (with poor Eglantine's bulk)
nothing much thicker than a sheet of paper could pass out
or in. And thus these two amorous Caryatides kept guard
as the song continued :—

Dark is the wood, and wide,
Dangers, they say, betide;
But, at my Albert's side,
Nought I fear, oh my love — oh my love I

* The words of this song are copyright, nor will the copyright be
sold for less than twopence-halfpenny.

292 MEN'S WIVES.

Welcome the greenwood tree,
Welcome the forest free,
Dearest, with thee, with thee.
Nought I fear, oh my love— o-h ma-a-y love!

Eglantine's fine eyes were filled with tears as Morgiana
passionately uttered the above beautiful words. Little
Woolsey's eyes glistened, as he clenched his fist with an
oath, and said, " Show me any singing that can beat that.
Cobbler, shut your niouth, or I'll break your head."

But the cobbler, regardless of the threat, continued to
perform the " Lurlaliety " with great accuracy ; and when
that was ended, both on his part and Morgiana' s, a raptur-
ous knocking of glasses was heard in the little bar, then a
great clapping of hands, and finally, somebody shouted
"Brava!"

"Brava!"

At that word Eglantine turned deadly pale, then gave a
start, then a rush forward, which pinned, or rather cush-
ioned, the tailor against the wall, then twisting himself
abruptly, round, he sprung to the door of the bar, and
bounced into that apartment.

" How are you, my nosegay ? " exclaimed the same voice
which had shouted "Brava." It was that of Captain
Walker.

At ten o'clock the next morning a gentleman, with the
king's button on his military coat, walked abruptly into
Mr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. Mossrose, said,
"Tell your master I want to see him."

"He's in his studio," said Mr. Mossrose.

" Well, then, fellow, go and fetch him ! "

And Mossrose, thinking it must be the lord-chamberlain,
or Doctor Prsetorius at least, walked into the studio, where
the perfumer was seated in a very glossy old silk dressing-
gown, his fair hair hanging over his white face, his double
chin over his flaccid, whity-brown shirt-collar, his pea-green
slippers on the hob, and, on the fire, the pot of chocolate
which was simmering for his breakfast A lazier fellow

MEN'S WIVES. 293

than poor Eglantine it would be hard to find ; whereas, on
the contrary, Woolsey was always up and brushed, spick-
and-span, at seven o'clock; and had gone through his
books, and given out the work for the journeymen, and
eaten a hearty breakfast of rashers of bacon, before Eglan-
tine had put the usual pound of grease to his hair (his fin-
gers were always as damp and shiny as if he had them in
a pomatum-pot), and arranged his figure for the day.

"Here's a gent wants you in the shop," says Mr. Moss-
rose, having the door of communication wide open.

" Say I'm in bed, Mr. Mossrose ; I'm out of sperrets,
and really can see nobody."

" It's some one from Vindsor, I think ; he's got the royal
button," says Mossrose.

"It's me — Woolsey," shouted the little man from the
shop.

Mr. Eglantine at this jumped up, made a rush to the
door leading to his private apartment, and disappeared in
a twinkling. But it must not be imagined that he fled in
order to avoid Mr. Woolsey. He only went away for one
minute just to put on his belt, for he was ashamed to be
seen without it by his rival

This being assumed, and his toilet somewhat arranged,
Mr. Woolsey was admitted into his private room And
Mossrose would have heard every word of the conversation
between those two gentlemen, had not Woolsey, opening the
door, suddenly pounced on the assistant, taken him by the
collar, and told him to disappear altogether into the shop,
which Mossrose did, vowing he would have his revenge.

The subject which Woolsey had come to treat was an im-
portant one, "Mr. Eglantine," says he, "there's no use
disguising from one another that we are both of us in love
with Miss Morgiana, and that our chances up to this time
have been pretty equal. But that captain whom you intro-
duced, like an ass as you were "

" An ass, Mr. Woolsey? I'd have you to know, sir, that
I'm no more a hass than you are, sir ; and as for introduc-
ing the captain, I did no such thing."

294 MEN'S WIVES.

" Well, well, he's got a poaching into our preserves some-
how. He's evidently sweet upon the young woman, and
is a more fashionable chap than either of us two We
must get him out of the house, sir — we must circumwent
him ; and then, Mr. Eglantine, will be time enough for you
and me to try which is the best man."

" He the best man ! " thought Eglantine, " the little, bald,
unsightly tailor-creature ! A man with no more soul than
his smoothing-hiron ! " But the perfumer, as may be imag-
ined, did not utter this sentiment aloud, but expressed him-
self quite willing to enter into any hamicable arrangement,
by which the new candidate for Miss Crump's favour must
be thrown over. It was, accordingly, agreed between the
two gentlemen that they should coalesce against the com-
mon enemy; that they should, by reciting many perfectly
well-founded stories in the captain's disfavour, influence
the minds of Miss Crump's parents, and of herself, if pos-
sible, against this wolf in sheep's clothing; and that, when
they were once fairly rid of him, each should be at liberty,
as before, to prefer his own claim.

"I have thought of a subject," said the little tailor,
turning very red, and hemming and hawing a great deal.
"I've thought, I say, of a pint, which may b *. resorted to
with advantage at the present juncture, and in which each
of us may be useful to the other. An exchange, Mr. Eg-
lantine, do you take? "

"Do you mean an accommodation-bill?" said Eglantine,
whose mind ran a good deal on that species of exchange.

"Pooh, nonsense, sir. The name of our firm is, I flatter
myself, a little more up in the market than some other
people's names."

"Do you mean to insult the name of Archibald Eglan-
tine, sir? I'd have you to know that at three months —

"Nonsense!" says Mr. Woolsey, mastering his emotion;
"there's no use a-quarrelling, Mr. E. ; we're not in love
with each other, I know that. You wish me hanged, or as
good, I know that ! "

"Indeed I don't, sir!"

MEN'S WIVES. 205'

"You do, sir; I tell you, you do! and what's more, I
wish the same to you — transported, at any rate! But aft
two sailors, when a boat's a-sinking, though they hate each
other ever so much, will help and bale the boat out ; so, sir,
let us act : let us be the two sailors."

" Bail, sir! " said Eglantine, as usual mistaking the drift
of the argument, "I'll bail no man ! If you're in difficul-
ties, I think you had better go to your senior partner, Mr.
Woolsey;" and Eglantine's cowardly little soul was filled
with a savage satisfaction to think that his enemy was in
distress, and had actually been obliged to come to him for
succour

" You're enough to make Job swear, you great, fat, stu-
pid, lazy, old barber!" roared Mr, Woolsey, in a fury.

Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. The
gallant little tailor laughed.

"There's no need to call in Betsy," said he, "I'm not a-
going to eat you, Eglantine ; you're a bigger man than me :
if you were just to fall on me, you'd smother me! Just
sit still on the sofa and listen to reason."

" Well, sir, pro-ceed," said the barber with a gasp.

"Now, listen! What's the darling wish of your heart?
I know it, sir! you've told it to Mr. Tressle, sir, and other
gents at the club The darling wish of your heart, sir, is
to have a slap-up coat turned out of the ateliers of Messrs.
Linsey, Woolsey. and Company. You said you'd give
twenty guineas for one of our coats, you know you did !
Lord Bolsterton's a fatter man than you, and look what a
figure we turn him out. Can any firm in England dress
Lord Bolsterton but us, so as to make his lordship look
decent? I defy 'em, sir! We could have given Daniel
Lambert a figure ! "

" If I want a coat, sir," said Mr. Eglantine, " and I don't
deny it, there's some people want a head of hair /"

" That's the very point I was coming to," said the tailor,
resuming the violent blush which was mentioned as having
suffused his countenance at the beginning of the conversa-
tion. "Let us have terms of mutual accommodation.

2% MEN'S WIVES.

Make me a wig, Mr. Eglantine, and though I never yet
cut a yard of cloth except for a gentleman, I'll pledge you
my word I'll make you a coat."

" Will you, honour bright? " says Eglantine.

"Honour bright," says the tailor. "Look! " and in an
instant he drew from his pocket one of those slips of parch-
ment which gentlemen of his profession carry, and putting
Eglantine into the proper position, began to take the pre-
liminary observations. He felt Eglantine's heart thump
with happiness as his measure passed over that soft part of
the perfumer's person.

Then putting down the window-blind, and looking that
the door was locked, and blushing still more deeply than
ever, the tailor seated himself in an arm-chair towards
which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, and, taking off his
black wig, exposed his head to the great perruquier's gaze.
Mr. Eglantine looked at it, measured it, manipulated it,
sat for three minutes with his head in his hand and his
elbow on his knee gazing at the tailor's cranium with all
his might, walked round it twice or thrice, and then said,
"It's enough, Mr. Woolsey, consider the job as done.
And now, sir," said he, with a greatly relieved air, "and
now, Woolsey, let us 'ave a glass of cura^oa to celebrate
this hauspicious meeting."

The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never drunk
in a morning, and left the room without offering to shake
Mr. Eglantine by the hand, for he despised that gentleman
very heartily, and himself, too, for coming to any compro-
mise with him, and for so far demeaning himself as to
make a coat for a barber.

Looking from his chambers on the other side of the street,
that inevitable Mr. Walker saw the tailor issuing from the
perfumer's shop, and was at no loss to guess that some-
thing extraordinary must be in progress when two such bit-
ter enemies met together.

MEN'S WIVES. 297

CHAPTER III.

WHAT CAME OF MR. WALKER'S DISCOVERY ov THE
BOOTJACK

IT is very easy to state how the captain came to take up
that proud position at the Bootjack which we have seen
him occupy on the evening when the sound of the fatal
" brava " so astonished Mr. Eglantine.

The mere entry into the establishment was, of coarse,
not difficult* Any person by simply uttering the words,
"A pint of beer," was free of the Bootjack; and it was
some such watchword that Howard Walker employed when
he made his first appearance. He requested to be shown
into a parlour where he might repose himself for a while,
and was ushered into that very sanctum where the Kidney
Club met, Then he stated that the beer was the best he
had ever tasted, except in Bavaria, and in some parts of
Spain, he added ; and professing to be extremely " peckish,"
requested to know if there were any cold meat in the house
whereof he could make a dinner.

"I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord," said he,
flinging down a half-sovereign for payment of the beer;
" but your parlour looks so comfortable and the Windsor
chairs are so snug, that I'm sure I could not dine better at
the first club in London."

" One of the first clubs in London is held in this very
room," said Mr. Crump, very well pleased; "and attended
by some of the best gents in town, too. We call it the
Kidney Club."

" Why, bless my soul! it is the very club my friend, Eg-
lantine, has so often talked to me about, and attended by
some of the tip-top tradesmen of the metropolis ! "

"There's better men here than Mr. Eglantine," re-
plied Mr. Crump; "though he's a good man — I don't
say he's not a good man — but there's better. Mr, Clinker,

298 MEN'S WIVES.

sir; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, Woolsey and
Co."

" The great array-clothiers ! " cried Walker ; " the first
house in town ! " and so continued, with exceeding urbani-
ty, holding conversation with Mr. Crump, until the honest
landlord retired delighted, and told Mrs. Crump in the bar
that there was a tip-top swell in the Kidney parlour, who
was a-going to have his dinner there.

Fortune favoured the brave captain in every way, it was
just Mr. Crump's own dinner-hour; and on Mrs. Crump's
stepping into the parlour to ask the guest whether he would
like a slice of the joint to which the family were about to
sit down, fancy that lady's start of astonishment at recog-
nising Mr. Eglantine's facetious friend of the day before.
The captain at once demanded permission to partake of the
joint at the family table ; the lady could not with any great
reason deny this request ; the captain was inducted into the
bar, and Miss Crump, who always came down late for din-
\ier, was even more astonished than her mamma on behold-
ing the occupier of the fourth place at the table Had she
expected to see the fascinating stranger so soon again? I
think she had. Her big eyes said as much, as, furtively
looking up at Mr. Walker's face, they caught his looks;
and then bouncing down again towards her plate, pretended
to be very busy in looking at the boiled beef and carrots
there displayed. She blushed far redder than those car-
rots, but her shining ringlets hid her confusion together
with her lovely face.

Sweet Morgiana ! the billiard-ball eyes had a tremendous
effect on the captain, They fell plump, as it were, into the
pocket of his heart ; and he gallantly proposed to treat the
company to a bottle of champagne, which was accepted
without much difficulty.

Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar (where
he said he had some cases of the finest champagne in Eu-
rope), called Dick, the boy, to him, and dispatched him
with all speed to a wine-merchant's, where a couple of bot-
tles of the liquor were procured.

MEN'S WIVES. 299

" Bring up two bottles, Mr. C.," Captain Walker gal-
lantly said when Crump made his move, as it were, to the
cellar ; and it may be imagined after the two bottles were
drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at least nine glasses to
her share), how happy, merry, and confidential the whole
party had become. Crump told his story of the Bootjack,
and whose boot it had drawn ; the former Miss Delancy ex-
patiated on her past theatrical life, and the pictures hang-
ing round the room. Miss was equally communicative!
and, in short, the captain had all the secrets of the little
family in his possession ere sunset. He knew that Miss
cared little for either of her suitors, about whom mamma
and papa had a little quarrel. He heard Mrs. Crump talk
of Morgiana's property, and fell more in love with her than
ever. Then came tea, the luscious crumpet, the quiet
game at cribbage, and the song — the song which poor Eg-
lantine heard, and which caused Woolsey's rage and his
despair.

At the close of the evening the tailor was in a greater
rage, and the perfumer in greater despair than ever. He
had made his little present of eau de Cologne. " Oh fie ! "
says the captain, with a hoarse laugh, "it smells of the
shop ! " He taunted the tailor about his wig, and the hon-
est fellow had only an oath to give by way of repartee.
He told his stories about his club and his lordly friends.
What chance had either against the all-accomplished How-
ard Walker?

Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and wrong,
hated the man; Mrs. Crump did not feel quite at her ease
regarding him, but Morgiana thought him the most delight-
ful person the world ever produced.

Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin neck-
cloth embroidered with butterflies and ornamented with a
brandy-ball brooch, a light shawl waistcoat, and a rhubarb-
coloured coat of the sort which, I believe, are called Tag-
lionis, and which have no waist-buttons, and make a pre-
tence, as it were, to have no waists, but are in reality
adopted by the fat in order to give them a waist. Nothing

300 MEN'S WIVES.

easier for an obese man than to have a waist ; he has but
to pinch his middle part a little, and the very fat on either
side pushed violently forward makes a waist, as it were, and
our worthy perfumer's figure was that of a bolster cut
almost in two with a string.

Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning in
this costume, twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy greasy
fingers, glittering with oil and rings, and looking so exceed-
ingly contented and happy that the estate-agent felt assured
some very satisfactory conspiracy had been planned between
the tailor and him. How was Mr. Walker to learn what
the scheme was? Alas, the poor fellow's vanity and de-
light were such, -that he could not keep silent as to the
cause of his satisfaction, and rather than not mention it at
all, in the fulness of his heart he would have told his secret
to Mr. Mossrose himself.

"When I get my coat," thought the Bond Street Alnas-
char, " I'll hire of Snaffle that easy-going cream-coloured
?oss that he bought from Astley's, and I'll canter through
the Park, and won't I pass through Little Bunker's Build-
ings, that's all? I'll wear my gray trousers with the vel-
vet stripe down the side, and get my spurs lacquered up,
and with a French polish to my boot; and if I don't do for
the captain and the tailor too, my name's not Archibald,
and I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll hire the small Clarence,
and invite the Crumps to dinner at the Gar and Starter
(this was his facetious way of calling the Star and Garter),
and I'll ride by them all the way to Richmond. It's rather
a long ride, but with Snaffle's soft saddle I can do it pretty
easy, I dare say." And so the honest fellow built castles
upon castles in the air ; and the last and most beautiful
vision of all was Miss Crump "in white satting, with a
horange flower in her 'air," putting him in possession of
her lovely hand before the altar of St. George's, 'Anover
Square. As for Woolsey, Eglantine determined that he
should have the best wig his art could produce, for he had
not the least fear of his rival.

These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's

MEN'S WIVES. 301

satisfaction, what does he do but send out for half a quire
of pink note-paper, and in a filagree envelope dispatch a
note of invitation to the ladies at the Bootjack: —

" BOWER OF BLOOM, BOND STREET,
" THURSDAY.

"Mr. Archibald Eglantine presents his compliments to
Mrs. and Miss Crump, and requests the honour and pleas-
ure of their company at the Star and Garter at Richmond
to an early dinner on Sunday next.

" If agreeable, Mr. Eglantine's carriage will be at your
door at three o'clock, and I propose to accompany them on
horseback if agreeable like wise. "

This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to its
destination ; and of course Mr. Eglantine went himself for
the answer in the evening : and of course he told the ladies
to look out for a certain new coat he was going to sport on
Sunday; and of course Mr. Walker happens to call the
next day with spare tickets for Mrs. Crump and her daugh-
ter, when the whole secret was laid bare to him, — how the
ladies were going to Richmond on Sunday in Mr. Snaffle's
Clarence, and how Mr. Eglantine was to ride by their side.

Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own, his magnifi-
cent friends at the Regent had plenty in their stables, and
some of these were at livery at the establishment of the
captain's old "college" companion, Mr. Snaffle. It was
easy, therefore, for the captain to renew his acquaintance
with that individual. So, hanging on the arm of my Lord
Vauxhall, Capt. Walker next day made his appearance at
Snaffle's livery-stables and looked at the various horses
there for sale or at bait, and soon managed, by putting
some facetious questions to Mr. Snaffle regarding the Kid-
ney Club, &c., to place himself on a friendly footing with
that gentleman, and to learn from him what horse Mr. Eg-
lantine was to ride on Sunday.

The monster Walker had fully determined in his mind
that Eglantine should fall off that horse in the course of
Ms Sunday's ride.

302 MEN'S WIVES.

"That singular hanimal," said Mr. Snaffle, pointing to the
old horse, " is the celebrated Hemperor that was the wonder
of Hastley's some years back, and was parted with by Mr.
Ducrow honly because his feelin's wouldn't allow him to
keep him no longer after the death of the first Mrs. D., who
invariably rode him. I bought him, thinking that p'raps
ladies and cockney-bucks might like to ride him (for his
haction is wonderful, and he canters like a harm-chair)
but he's not safe on any day except Sundays."

"And why's that?" asked Captain Walker. "Why is
he safer on Sundays than other days? "

" Because there's no music in the streets on Sundays.
The first gent that rode him found himself dancing a
quadrille in Hupper Brooke Street to an 'urdy-gurdy that
was playin' l Cherry ripe/ such is the natur of the hani-
mal. And if you recklect the play of the ' Battle of Hoys-
terlitz,' in which Mrs. D. hacted ' the female hussar,' you
may remember how she and the horse died in the third act
to the toon of ' God preserve the Emperor,' from which this
horse took his name. Only play that toon to him, and he
rears hisself up, beats the hair in time with his fore legs,
and then sinks gently to the ground, as though he were
carried off by a cannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite
Hapsley Ouse so one day, and since then I've never let him
out to a friend except on Sunday, when, in course, there's
no danger. Heglantine is a friend of mine, and of course I
wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I couldn't trust."

After a little more conversation, my lord and his friend
quitted Mr. Snaffle's, and as they walked away towards the
Regent, his lordship might be heard shrieking with laugh-
ter, crying " Capital, by jingo ! exthlent ! Dwive down in
the dwag! Take Lungly. Worth a thousand pound, by
Jove!" and similar ejaculations, indicative of exceeding
delight.

On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, Mr.
Woolsey called at Mr. Eglantine's with a yellow handker-
chief under his arm. It contained the best and handsomest
body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It fitted Eglantine

MEN'S WIVES. 303

to a nicety — it did not pinch him in the least, and yet it was
of so exquisite a cut that the perfumer found, as he gazed
delighted in the glass, that he looked like a manly, portly,
high-bred gentleman — a lieutenant-colonel in the army, at
the very least.

" You're a full man, Eglantine," said the tailor, delight-
ed, too, with his own work; "but that can't be helped.
You look more like Hercules than Falstaff now, sir ; and
if a coat can make a gentleman, a gentleman you are. Let
me recommend you to sink the blue cravat, and take the
stripes off your trousers. Dress quiet, sir ; draw it mild.
Plain waistcoat, dark trousers, black neckcloth, black hat,
and if there's a hotter dressed man in Europe to-morrow
I'm a Dutchman."

"Thank you, Woolsey — thank you, my dear sir," said
the charmed perfumer. "And now I'll just trouble you to
try on this here."

The wig had been made with equal skill ; it was not in
the florid style which Mr. Eglantine loved in his own per-
son, but, as the perfumer said, a simple, straightforward
head of hair. " It seems as if it had grown there all your
life, Mr. Woolsey ; nobody would tell that it was not your
nat'ral colour (Mr. Woolsey blushed), it makes you look
ten year younger; and as for that scarecrow yonder, you'll
never, I think, want to wear that again."

Woolsey looked in the glass and was delighted too. The
two rivals shook hands and straightway became friends,
and in the overflowing of his heart the perfumer mentioned
to the tailor the party which he had arranged for the next
day, and offered him a seat in the carriage and at the din-
ner at the Star and Garter. "Would you like to ride?"
said Eglantine, with rather a consequential air, "Snaffle
will mount you, and we can go one on each side of the la-
dies, if you like."

But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, and
gladly consented to take a place in the Clarence carriage,
provided he was allowed to bear half the expenses of the
entertainment, This proposal was agreed to by Mr. Eg-

304 MEN'S WIVES.

Ian tine, and the two gentlemen parted to meet once more at
the Kidneys that night, when everybody was edified by
the friendly tone adopted between them.

Mr. Snaffle, at the club-meeting, made the very same
proposal to Mr. Woolsey that the perfumer had made ; and
stated that as Eglantine was going to ride Hemperor, Wool-
sey, at least, ought to mount too. But he was met by the
same modest refusal on the tailor's part, who stated that
he had never mounted a horse yet, and preferred greatly
the use of a coach.

Eglantine's character as a " swell " rose greatly with the
club that evening.

Two o'clock on Sunday came; the two beaux arrived
punctually at the door to receive the two smiling ladies.

"Bless us, Mr. Eglantine!" said Miss Crump, quite
struck by him, " I never saw you look so handsome in your
life." He could have flung his arms around her neck at
the compliment. " And, law, ma ! what has happened to
Mr. Woolsey? doesn't he look ten years younger than yes-
terday? " Mamma assented, and Woolsey bowed gallantly,
and the two gentlemen exchanged a nod of hearty friend-
ship.

The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced along mag-
nificently on his cantering arm-chair, with his hat on one
ear, his left hand on his side, and his head flung over his
shoulder, and throwing under glances at Morgiana when-
ever the Emperor was in advance of the Clarence. The
Emperor pricked up his ears a little uneasily passing the
Ebenezer chapel in Richmond, where the congregation were
singing a hymn, but beyond this no accident occurred; nor
was Mr. Eglantine in the least stiff or fatigued by the time
the party reached Richmond, where he arrived time enough
to give his steed into the charge of an hostler, and to pre-
sent his elbow to the ladies as they alighted from the Clar-
ence carriage.

What this jovial party ate for dinner at the Star and
Garter need not here be set down. If they did not drink
champagne I am very much mistaken. They were as merry

MEN'S WIVES. 305

as any four people in Christendom ; and between the bewil-
dering attentions of the perfumer, and the manly courtesy
of the tailor, Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant cap-
tain, or, at least, was very happy in his absence.

At eight o'clock they began to drive homewards. " Won't
you come into the carriage? " said Morgiana to Eglantine,
with one of her tenderest looks ; " Dick can ride the horse."
But Archibald was too great a lover of equestrian exercise.
"I'm afraid to trust anybody on this horse," said he with
a knowing look ; and so he pranced away by the side of the
little carriage. The moon was brilliant, and, with the aid
of the gas-lamps, illuminated the whole face of the country
in a way inexpressibly lively.

Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive notes
of a bugle were heard, and the performer, with great deli-
cacy, executed a religious air. " Music, too ! heavenly ! "
said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to the stars. The
music came nearer and nearer, and the delight of the com-
pany was only more intense. The fly was going at about
four miles an hour, and the Emperor began cantering to
time at the same rapid pace.

" This must be some gallantry of yours, Mr. Woolsey,"
said the romantic Morgiana, turning upon that gentleman.
"Mr. Eglantine treated us to the dinner, and you have
provided us with the music."

Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dissatisfied
during the course of the evening's entertainment, by fancy-
ing that Eglantine, a much more voluble person than him-
self, had obtained rather an undue share of the ladies' fa-
vour ; and as he himself paid half of the expenses, he felt
very much vexed to think that the perfumer should take
all the credit of the business to himself. So when Miss
Crump asked if he had provided the music, he foolishly
made an evasive reply to her query, and rather wished her
to imagine that he had performed that piece of gallantry.
"If it pleases you, Miss Morgiana," said this artful schnei-
der, "what more need any man ask? wouldn't I have all
Drury Lane orchestra to please you? "

306 MEN'S WIVES.

The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to the
Clarence carriage, and if Morgiana had looked round she
might have seen whence the music came. Behind her came
slowly a drag, or private stage coach, with four horses.
Two grooms with cockades and folded arms were behind ^
and driving on the box, a little gentleman, with a blue,
bird's-eye neckcloth, and a white coat. A bugleman was
by his side, who performed the melodies which so delighted
Miss Crump. He played very gently and sweetly, and
" God save the King " trembled so softly out of the brazea
orifice of his bugle, that the Crumps, the tailor, and Eglan-
tine himself, who was riding close by the carriage, were
quite charmed and subdued.

"Thank you, dear Mr. Woolsey," said the grateful Mor-
giana; which made Eglantine stare, and Woolsey was just
saying, "Really, upon my word, I've nothing to do with
it," when the man on the drag-box said to the bugleman,
"Now!"

The bugleman began the tune of —

"Heaven preserve our Emperor Fra-an-cis,
Rum tum-ti-tum-ti-titty-ti."

At the sound, the Emperor reared himself (with a roar
from Mr. Eglantine), reared and beat the air with his fore-
paws; Eglantine flung his arms round the beast's neck,
still he kept beating time with his fore-paws. Mrs. Crump
screamed; Mr. Woolsey, Dick, the Clarence coachman,
Lord Vauxhall (for it was he), and his lordship's two
grooms, burst into a shout of laughter; Morghtna cries
" Mercy ! mercy ! " Eglantine yells " Stop ! » — " Wo ! "—
" 0 ! " and a thousand ejaculations of hideous terror ; until,
at last, down drops the Emperor stone dead in the middle
of the road, as if carried off by a cannon-ball.

Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at the
misery of humanity, fancy the situation of poor Eglantine
under the Emperor. He had fallen very easy, the animal'
lay perfectly quiet, and the perfumer was to all intents and
purposes as dead as the animal. He had not fainted, but

MEN'S WIVES. 307

he was immovable with terror; he lay in a puddle, and
thought it was his own blood gushing from him ; and he
would have lain there until Monday morning, if my Lord's
grooms descending, had not dragged him by the coat-collars
from under the beast, who still lay quiet.

"Play ' Charming Judy Callaghan,7 will ye? " says Mr.
Snaffle's man, the fly-driver ; on which the bugler performed
that lively air, and up started the horse, and the grooms,
who were rubbing Mr. Eglantine down against a lamp-post
invited him to remount.

But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies gladly
made room for him in the Clarence. Dick mounted Em-
peror and rode homewards. The drag, too, drove away,
playing, "O dear what can the matter be?" and with a
scowl of furious hate, Mr. Eglantine sat and regarded his
rival. His pantaloons were split, and his coat torn up the
back.

"Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald?" said Mor-
giana, with unaffected compassion.

"N-not much," said the poor fellow, ready to burst into
tears.

"0, Mr. Woolsey," added the good-natured girl, "how
could you play such a trick? "

"Upon my word," Woolsey began, intending to plead
innocence ; but the ludicrousness of the situation was once
more too much for him, and he burst out into a roar of
laughter.

" You! you cowardly beast," howled out Eglantine, now
driven to fury, "you laugh at me, you miserable cretur!
Take that, sir ! " and he fell upon him with all his might,
and well-nigh throttled the tailor, and pummelling his
eyes, his nose, his ears, with inconceivable rapidity,
wrenched, finally, his wig off his head, and flung it into
the road.

Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair.*

* A French proverbe furnished the author with the notion of the
rivalry between the Barber and the Tailor.

308 MEN'S WIVES.

CHAPTER IV.

IN WHICH THE HEROINE HAS A NUMBER MORE LOVERS,
AND CUTS A VERY DASHING FIGURE IN THE WORLD.

Two years have elapsed since the festival at Richmond,
which, begun so peaceably, ended in such general uproar.
Morgiana never could be brought to pardon Woolsey 'a red
hair, nor to help laughing at Eglantine's disasters, nor
could the two gentlemen be reconciled to one another.
Woolsey, indeed, sent a challenge to the perfumer to meet
him with pistols, which the latter declined, saying, justly,
that tradesmen had no business with such weapons : on this
the tailor proposed to meet him with coats off, and have it
out like men, in the presence of their friends of the Kid-
ney Club. The perfumer said he would be party to no such
vulgar transaction ; on which, Woolsey, exasperated, made
an oath that he would tweak the perfumer's nose so surely
as he ever entered the club-room, and thus one member of
the Kidneys was compelled to vacate his arm-chair.

Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, but
he did not evince that gaiety and good-humour which ren-
ders men's company agreeable in clubs. On arriving, he
would order the boy to " tell him when that scoundrel Eg-
lantine came," and, hanging up his hat on a peg, would
scowl round the room, and tuck up his sleeves very high,
and stretch, and shake his fingers and wrists, as if getting
them ready for that pull of the nose which he intended to
bestow upon his rival. So prepared, he would sit down
and smoke his pipe quite silently, glaring at all, and jump-
ping up, and hitching up his coat-sleeves, when any one
entered the room.

The Kidneys did not like this behaviour. Clinker ceased
to come. Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to come. As for
Snaffle, he also disappeared, for Woolsey wished to make
him answerable for the misbehaviour of Eglantine, and

MEN'S WIVES. 309

proposed to him the duel which the latter had declined.
So Snaffle went. Presently they all went, except the Tailor
and Tressle, who lived down the street, and these two
would sit and puff their tobacco, one on each side of Crump,
the landlord, as silent as Indian chiefs in a wigwam. There
grew to be more and more room for poor old Crump in his
chair and in his clothes ; the Kidneys were gone, and why
should he remain? One Saturday he did not come down to
preside at the club (as he still fondly called it), and the
Saturday following Tressle had made a coffin for him ; and
Woolsey, with the undertaker by his side, followed to the
grave the father of the Kidneys.

Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. " How alone? "
says some innocent and respected reader. Ah ! my dear
sir, do you know so little of human nature as not to be aware
that, one week after the Richmond affair, Morgiana married
Captain Walker? That did she privately, of course; and,
after the ceremony, came tripping back to her parents, as
young people do in plays, and said, " Forgive me, dear pa
and ma, I'm married, and here is my husband, the cap-
tain ! " Papa and mamma did forgive her, as why shouldn't
they? and papa paid over her fortune to her, which she
carried home delighted to the captain. This happened sev-
eral months before the demise of old Crump ; and Mrs.
Captain Walker was on the Continent with her Howard
when that melancholy event took place, hence Mrs. Crump's
loneliness and unprotected condition. Morgiana had not
latterly seen much of the old people ; how could she, mov-
ing in her exalted sphere, receive at her genteel, new resi-
dence in the Edgeware Road, the old publican and his
wife?

Being, then, alone in the world, Mrs. Crump could not
abear, she said, to live in the house where she had been so
respected and happy : so she sold the good-will of the Sun,
and, with the money arising from this sale and her own
private fortune, being able to muster some sixty pounds
per annum, retired to the neighbourhood of her dear old
Sadler's Wells, where she boarded with one of Mrs. Serle's

310 MEN'S WIVES.

forty pupils. Her heart was broken, she said ; but never-
theless, about nine months after Mr. Crump's death, the
wallflowers, nasturtiums, polyanthuses and convolvuluses
began to blossom under her bonnet as usual ; in a year she
was dressed quite as fine as ever, and now never missed the
Wells, or some other place of entertainment, one single
night, but was as regular as the box-keeper. Nay, she
was a buxom widow still, and an old flame of hers, Fisk,
so celebrated as pantaloon in Grimaldi's time, but now do-
ing the " heavy fathers " at the Wells, proposed to her to
exchange her name for his.

But this proposal the worthy widow declined altogether.
To say truth, she was exceedingly proud of her daughter,
Mrs. Captain Walker. They did not see each other much
at first; but every now and then Mrs. Crump would pay
her visit to the folks in Connaught Square ; and on the
days when "the captain's" lady called in the City Road,
there was not a single official at the " Wells," from the first
tragedian down to the call-boy, who was not made aware
of the fact.

It has been said that Morgiana carried home her fortune
in her own reticule, and smiling placed the money in her
husband's lap; and hence the reader may imagine, who
knows Mr. Walker to be an extremely selfish fellow, that
a great scene of anger must have taken place, and many
coarse oaths and epithets of abuse must have come from
him, when he found that five hundred pounds was all that
his wife had, although he had expected five thousand with
her. But, to say the truth, Walker was at this time almost
in love with his handsome, rosy, good-humoured, simple
wife. They had made a fortnight's tour, during which
they had been exceedingly happy ; and there was something
so frank and touching in the way in which the kind crea-
ture flung her all into his lap, saluting him with a hearty
embrace at the same time, and wishing that it were a thou-
sand billion, billion times more, so that her darling How-
ard might enjoy it, that the man would have been a ruffian
indeed could he have found it in his heart to be angry with

MEN'S WIVES. 311

her; and so he kissed her in return, and patted her on the
shining ringlets, and then counted over the notes with
rather a disconsolate air, and ended by locking them up in
his portfolio. In fact, she had never deceived him ; Eglan-
tine had, and he in return had out-tricked Eglantine ; and
so warm were his affections for Morgiana at this time, that,
upon my word and honour, I don't think he repented of
his bargain. Besides, five hundred pounds in crisp bank-
notes was a sum of money such as the captain was not in
the habit of handling every day ; a dashing, sanguine fel-
low, he fancied there was no end to it, and already thought
of a dozen ways by which it should increase and multiply
into a plumb. Woe is me ! Has not many a simple soul
examined five new hundred-pound notes in this way, and
calculated their powers of duration and multiplication !

This subject, however, is too painful to. be dwelt on.
Let us hear what Walker did with his money. Why, he
furnished the house in the Edgeware Road before men-
tioned, he ordered a handsome service of plate, he sported
a phaeton and two ponies, he kept a couple of smart maids
and a groom foot-boy, — in fact, he mounted just such a
neat, unpretending, gentlemanlike establishment as becomes
a respectable young couple on their outset in life. "I've
sown my wild oats," he would say to his acquaintances;
" a few years since, perhaps, I would have longed to cut a
dash, but now prudence is the word; and I've settled every
farthing of Mrs. Walker's fifteen thousand on herself."
And the best proof that the world had confidence in him is
the fact, that for the articles of plate, equipage, and furni-
ture, which have been mentioned as being in his possession,
he did not pay one single shilling; and so prudent was he,
that but for turnpikes, postage-stamps, and king's taxes,
he hardly had occasion to change a five-pound note of his
wife's fortune.

To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to make
his fortune. And what is easier in London? Is not the
share-market open to all? Do not Spanish and Colum-
bian bonds rise and fall? For what are companies in-

14 Vol. 13

312 MEN'S WIVES.

vented but to place thousands in the pockets of share-
holders and directors? Into these commercial pursuits
the gallant captain now plunged with great energy, and
made some brilliant hits at first starting, and bought
and sold so opportunely, that his name began to rise in the
city as a capitalist, and might be seen in the printed list of
directors of many excellent and philanthropic schemes, of
which there is never any lack in London. Business to the
amount of thousands was done at his agency; shares of
vast value were bought and sold under his management.
How poor Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and envy him,
as from the door of his emporium (the firm was Eglantine
and Mossrose now) he saw the captain daily arrive in his
pony-phaeton, and heard of the start he had taken in life.

The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did not
enjoy enough of her husband's society. His business called
him away all day ; his business, too, obliged him to leave
her of evenings very frequently alone ; whilst he (always
in pursuit of business) was dining with his great friends at
the club, and drinking claret and champagne to the same
end.

She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, and
never made him a single reproach ; but when he could pass
an evening at home with her she was delighted, and when
he could drive with her in the Park she was happy for a
week after. On these occasions, and in the fulness of her
heart, she would drive to her mother and tell her story.
" Howard drove with me in the Park yesterday, mamma ; "
"Howard has promised to take me to the Opera," and so
forth. And that evening the manager, Mr. Gawler, the
first tragedian, Mrs. Serle and her forty pupils, all the box-
keepers, bonnet-women — nay, the ginger-beer girls them-
selves at the Wells, knew that Captain and Mrs. Walker
were at Kensington Gardens, or were to have the Marchion-
ess of Billingsgate's box at the Opera. One night — oh!
joy of joys ! — Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a private
box at the Wells. That's she with the black ringlets and
Cashmere shawl, smelling-bottle, black velvet gown, and

MEN'S WIVES. 313

bird of paradise in her hat. Goodness gracious ! how they
all acted at her, Crawler and all, and how happy Mrs.
Crump was ! She kissed her daughter between all the acts,
she nodded to all her friends on the stage, in the slips, or
in the real water ; she introduced her daughter, Mrs. Cap-
tain Walker, to the box-opener, and Melvil Delamere (the
first comic) Canterfield (the tyrant), and Jonesini (the cele-
brated Fontarabian Statuesque), were all on the steps, and
shouted for Mrs. Captain Walker's carriage, and waved
their hats, and bowed as the little pony-phaeton drove
away. Walker, in his moustachios, had come in at the
end of the play, and was not a little gratified by the com-
pliments paid to himself and lady.

Among the other articles of luxury with which the cap-
tain furnished his house we must not omit to mention an
extremely grand piano, which occupied four-fifths of Mrs.
Walker's little back drawing-room, and at which she was
in the habit of practising continually. All day and all
night during Walker's absences (and these occurred all
night and all day) you might hear — the whole street might
hear — the voice of the lady at No. 23 gurgling, and shak-
ing, and quavering, as ladies do when they practise. The
street did not approve of the continuance of the noise, but
neighbours are difficult to please, and what would Morgi-
ana have had to do if she had ceased to sing? It would be
hard to lock a blackbird in a cage and prevent him from
singing too. And so Walker's blackbird, in the snug little
cage in the Edgeware Koad, sang and was not unhappy.

After the pair had been married for about a year, the
omnibus that passes both by Mrs. Crump's house, near the
Wells, and by Mrs. Walker's street off the Edgeware Road,
brought up the former-named lady almost every day to her
daughter. She came when the captain had gone to his
business; she staid to a two o'clock dinner with Morgiana,
she drove with her in the pony-carriage round the Park,
but she never stopped later than six. Had she not to go
to the play at seven? And, besides, the captain might
come home with some of his great friends, and he always

314 MEN'S WIVES.

swore and grumbled much if he found his mother-in-law
on the premises. As for Morgiana, she was one of those
women who encourage despotism in husbands. What the
husband says must be right, because he says it j what he
orders must be obeyed tremblingly. Mrs. Walker gave up
her entire reason to her lord. Why was it? Before mar-
riage she had been an independent little person ; she had
far more brains than her Howard. I think it must have
been his moustachios that frightened her and caused in her
this humility.

Selfish husbands have this advantage in maintaining with
easy-minded wives a rigid and inflexible behaviour, viz.
that, if they do by any chance grant a little favour, the la-
dies receive it with such transports of gratitude as they
would never think of showing to a lord and master who
was accustomed to give them everything they asked for;
and hence, when Captain Walker signified his assent to his
wife's prayer that she should take a singing-master she
thought his generosity almost divine, and fell upon her
mamma's neck, when that lady came the next day, and said
what a dear adorable angel her Howard was, and what
ought she not to do for a man who had taken her from her
humble situation, and raised her to be what she was!
What she was, poor soul ! She was the wife of a swindling
parvenu gentleman. She received visits from six ladies of
her husband's acquaintances, the two attorneys' ladies, his
bill-broker's lady, and one or two more, of whose characters
we had best, if you please, say nothing ; and she thought it
an honour to be so distinguished, as if Walker had been a
Lord Exeter to marry a humble maiden, or a noble prince to
fall in love with a humble Cinderella, or a majestic Jove to
come down from heaven and woo a Semele. Look through
the world, respectable reader, and among your honourable
acquaintances, and say if this sort of faith in women is not
very frequent? They will believe in their husbands, what-
ever the latter do. Let John be dull, ugly, vulgar, and a
humbug, his Mary Anne never finds it out ; let him tell his
stories ever so many times, there is she always ready with

MEN'S WIVES. 315

her kind smile ; let him be stingy, she says he is prudent j
let him quarrel with his best friend, she says he is always in
the right j let him be prodigal, she says he is generous, and
that his health requires enjoyment; let him be idle, he
must have relaxation ; and she will pinch herself and her
household that he may have a guinea for his club. Yes ;
and every morning, as she wakes and looks at the face,
snoring on the pillow by her side — every morning, I say,
she blesses that dull, ugly countenance, and the dull ugly
soul reposing there, and thinks both are something divine.
I want to know how it is that women do not find out their
husbands to be humbugs? Nature has so provided it, and
thanks to her. When last year they were acting the " Mid-
summer Night's Dream," and all the boxes began to roar
with great coarse heehaws at Titania hugging Bottom's
long long ears — to me, considering these things, it seemed
that there were a hundred other male brutes squatted round
about, and treated just as reasonably as Bottom was. Their
Titanias lulled them to sleep in their laps, summoned a
hundred smiling, delicate, household fairies to tickle their
gross intellects and minister to their vulgar pleasures ; and
(as the above remarks are only supposed to apply to honest
women loving their own lawful spouses) a mercy it is that
no wicked Puck is in the way to open their eyes, and point
out their folly. Cui bono ? let them live on in their deceit ;
I know two lovely ladies who will read this, and will say it
is just very likely, and not see in the least that it has been
written regarding them.

Another point of sentiment, and one curious to speculate
on. Have you not remarked the immense works of art
that women get through? The worsted-work sofas, the
counterpanes patched or knitted (but these are among the
old-fashioned in the country), the bushels of pincushions,
the albums they laboriously fill, the tremendous pieces of
music they practise, the thousand other fiddle-faddles which
occupy the attention of the dear souls — nay, have we not
seen them seated of evenings in a squad or company, Louisa
employed at the worsted-work before mentioned, Eliza at

316 MEN'S WIVES.

the pincushions, Amelia at card-racks or filagree matches,
and, in the midst, Theodosia, with one of the candles,
reading out a novel aloud? Ah ! my dear sir, mortal crea-
tures must be very hard put to it for amusement, be sure
of that, when they are forced to gather together in a com-
pany and hear novels read aloud ! They only do it because
they can't help it, depend upon it; it is a sad life, a poor
pastime. Mr. Dickens, in his American book, tells of the
prisoners at the silent prison, how they had ornamented
their rooms, some of them with a frightful prettiness and
elaboration. Women's fancy-work is of this sort often —
only prison work, done because there was no other exercis-
ing-ground for their poor little thoughts and fingers ; and
hence these wonderful pincushions are executed, these coun-
terpanes woven, these sonatas learned. By everything
sentimental, when I see two kind, innocent, fresh-cheeked
young women go to a piano, and sit down opposite to it
upon two chairs piled with more or less music-books (ac-
cording to their convenience), and, so seated, go through a
set of double-barrelled variations upon this or that tune by
Herz or Kalkbrenner, — I say, far from receiving any satis-
faction at the noise made by the performance, my too
susceptible heart is given up entirely to bleeding for the
performers. What hours, and weeks, nay, preparatory
years of study, has that infernal jingle cost them ! What
sums has papa paid, what scoldings has mamma adminis-
tered (" Lady Bullblock does not play herself," Sir Thomas
says, " but she has naturally the finest ear for music ever
known ! ") ; what evidences of slavery, in a word, are there !
It is the condition of the young lady's existence. She
breakfasts at eight, she does "Hangnail's Questions" with
the governess till ten, she practises till one, she walks in
the square with bars round her till two, then she practises
again, then she sows or hems, or reads French, or Hume's
"History," then she comes down to play to papa, because
he likes music whilst he is asleep after dinner, and then it
is bedtime, and the morrow is another day with what are
called the same " duties " to be gone through. A friend of

MEN'S WIVES. 317

mine went to call at a nobleman's house the other day, and
one of the young ladies of the house came into the room
with a tray on her head ; this tray was to give Lady Maria
a graceful carriage. Mon Dieu ! and who knows but at
that moment Lady Bell was at work with a pair of her
dumb namesakes, and Lady Sophy lying flat on a stretch-
ing-board? I could write whole articles on this theme,
but peace! we are keeping Mrs. Walker waiting all the
while.

Well, then, if the above disquisitions have anything to
do with the story, as no doubt they have, I wish it to be
understood that, during her husband's absence and her own
solitary confinement, Mrs. Howard Walker bestowed a pro-
digious quantity of her time and energy on the cultivation
of her musical talent, and having, as before stated, a very
fine loud voice, speedily attained no ordinary skill in the
use of it. She first had for teacher little Podmore, the fat
chorus-master at the Wells, and who had taught her mother
the " Tink-a-tink " song which has been such a favourite
since it first appeared. He grounded her well, and bade
her eschew the singing of all those Eagle Tavern ballads in
which her heart formerly delighted, and when he had
brought her to a certain point of skill, the honest little
chorus-master said she should have a still better instructor,
and wrote a note to Captain Walker (enclosing his own lit-
tle account), speaking in terms of the most flattering enco-
mium of his lady's progress, and recommending that she
should take lessons of the celebrated Baroski. Captain
Walker dismissed Podmore then, and engaged Signor Ba-
roski, at a vast expense, as he did not fail to tell his wife.
In fact, he owed Baroski no less than a hundred-and-
twenty guineas when he came to file his Sched. * * *
But we are advancing matters.

Little Baroski is the author of the opera of " Eliogabalo,"
of the oratorio of "Purgatorio," which made such an im-
mense sensation, of songs and ballet-musics innumerable.
He is a German by birth, and shows such an outrageous
partiality for pork and sausages, and attends at church so

318 MEN'S WIVES.

constantly, that I am sure there cannot be any foundation
in the story that he is a member of the ancient religion.
He is a fat little man, with a hooked nose and jetty whis-
kers, and coal-black shining eyes, and plenty of rings and
jewels on his fingers and about his person, and a very con-
siderable portion of his shirt-sleeves turned over his coat to
take the air. His great hands (which can sprawl over half
a piano, and produce those effects on the instrument for
which he is celebrated) are encased in lemon-coloured kids,
new, or cleaned daily. Parenthetically, let us ask why so
many men, with coarse red wrists and big hands, persist
in the white kid glove and wristband system? Baroski's
gloves alone must cost him a little fortune ; only, he says
with a leer, when asked the question, " Get along vid you ;
don't you know dere is a gloveress that lets me have dem
verysheap?" He rides in the Park; has splendid lodg-
ings in Dover Street ; and is a member of the Regent Club,
where he is a great source of amusement to the members,
to whom he tells astonishing stories of his successes with
the ladies, and for whom he has always play and opera
tickets in store. His eye glistens and his little heart beats
when a lord speaks to him ; and he has been known to
spend large sums of money in giving treats to young sprigs
of fashion at Richmond and elsewhere. "In my boly-
ticks," he says, "I am consarevatiff to de bag-bone." In
fine, he is a puppy, and withal a man of considerable genius
in his profession.

This gentleman then undertook to complete the musical
education of Mrs. Walker. He expressed himself at once
"enshanted vid her gababilities," found that the extent of
her voice was "brodigious," and guaranteed that she should
become a first-rate singer. The pupil was apt, the master
was exceedingly skilful ; and, accordingly, Mrs. Walker's
progress was very remarkable; although, for her part,
honest Mrs. Crump, who used to attend her daughter's les-
sons, would grumble not a little at the new system, and
the endless exercises which she, Morgiana, was made to go
through. It was very different in her time, she said. In-

MEN'S WIVES. 319

cledon knew no music> and who could sing so wellnow?
Give her a good English ballad ; it was a thousand times
sweeter than your " Figaros " and " Semiramides."

In spite of these objections, however, and with amazing
perseverance and cheerfulness, Mrs. Walker pursued the
method of study pointed out to her by her master. As
soon as her husband went to the city in the morning her
operations began ; if he remained away at dinner, her la-
bours still continued ; nor is it necessary for me to particu-
larise her course of study, nor, indeed, possible, for, be-
tween ourselves, none of the male Fitz-Boodles ever could
sing a note, and the jargon of scales and solfeggios is quite
unknown to me. But as no man can have seen persons ad-
dicted to music without remarking the prodigious energies
they display in the pursuit, as there is no father of daugh-
ters, however ignorant, but is aware of the piano-rattling
and voice-exercising which goes on in his house from morn-
ing till night, so let all fancy, without further inquiry, how
the heroine of our story was at this stage of her existence
occupied.

Walker was delighted with her progress, and did every-
thing but pay Baroski, her instructor. We know why he
didn't pay. It was his nature not to pay bills, except on
extreme compulsion ; but why did not Baroski employ that
extreme compulsion? Because, if he had received his
money, he would have lost his pupil, and because he loved
his pupil more than money. Bather than lose her, he
would have given her a guinea as well as her cachet. He
would sometimes disappoint a great personage, but he never
missed his attendance on her; and the truth must out, that
lie was in love with her, as Woolsey and Eglantine had
been before.

"By the immortel Chofe!" he would say, "dat letell
ding sents me mad vid her big ice ! But only vait avile, in
six veeks I can bring any vornan in England on her knees
tome; and you shall see vat I vill do vid my Morgiana."
He attended her for six weeks punctually, and yet Morgi-
ana was never brought down on her knees ; he exhausted

320 MEN'S WIVES.

his best stock of "gombliinends," and she never seemed
disposed to receive them with anything but laughter. And,
as a matter of course, he only grew more infatuated with
the lovely creature who was so provokingly good-humoured
and so laughingly cruel.

Benjamin Baroski was one of the chief ornaments of the
musical profession in London ; he charged a guinea for a
lesson of three-quarters of an hour abroad, and he had,
furthermore, a school at his own residence, where pupils
assembled in considerable numbers, and of that curious
mixed kind which those may see who frequent these places
of instruction. There were very innocent young ladies
with their mammas, who would hurry bhern off trembling
to the farther corner of the room when certain doubtful
professional characters made their appearance. There was
Miss Grigg, who sang at the Foundling, and Mr. Johnson,
who sang at the Eagle Tavern, and Madame Fioravanti (a
very doubtful character), who sang nowhere, but was al-
ways coming out at the Italian Opera. There was Lumley
Limpiter (Lord Tweedledale's son), one of the most accom-
plished tenors in town, and who, we have heard, sings
with the professionals at a hundred concerts; and with
him, too, was Captain Guzzard of the Guards, with his tre-
mendous bass voice, which all the world declared to be as
fine as Porto's, and who shared the applauses of Baroski's
school, with Mr. Bulger, the dentist of Sackville Street,
who neglected his ivory and gold plates for his voice, as
every unfortunate individual will do who is bitten by the
music mania. Then among the ladies there were a half-
score of dubious pale governesses and professionals with
turned frocks and lank damp bandeaux of hair under shab-
by little bonnets ; luckless creatures these, who were part-
ing with their poor little store of half -guineas to be enabled
to say they were pupils of Signor Baroski, and so get pu-
pils of their own among the British youths, or employment
in the choruses of the theatres.

The prima donna of the little company was Amelia Lar-
kins, Baroski' s own articled pupil, on whose future reputa-

MEN'S WIVES. 321

tion the eminent master staked his own, whose profits he
was to share, and whom he had farmed, to this end, from
her father, a most respectable sheriff's officer's assistant,
and now, by his daughter's exertions, a considerable capi-
talist. Amelia is blonde and blue-eyed, her complexion is
as bright as snow, her ringlets of the colour of straw, her

figure but why describe her figure? Has not all the

world seen her at the theatres royal and in America under
the name of Miss Ligonier?

Until Mrs. Walker arrived, Miss Larkins was the undis-
puted princess of the Baroski company — the Semiramide,
the E/osina, the Tamina, the Donna Anna. Baroski vaunted
her everywhere as the great rising genius of the day, bade
Catalani look to her laurels, and questioned whether Miss
Stephens could sing a ballad like his pupil. Mrs. Howard
Walker arrived, and created, on the first occasion, no small
sensation. She improved, and the little society became
speedily divided into Walkerites and Larkinsians ; and be-
tween these two ladies (as, indeed, between Guzzard and
Bulger before mentioned, between Miss Brunck and Miss
Horsman, the two contraltos and between the chorus-singers,
after their kind) a great rivalry arose. Larkins was cer-
tainly the better singer ; but could her straw-coloured curls
and dumpy high-shouldered figure bear any comparison with
the jetty ringlets and stately form of Morgiana? Did not
Mrs. Walker, too, come to the music-lesson in her carriage,
and with a black velvet gown and Cashmere shawl, while
poor Larkins meekly stepped from Bell Yard, Temple Bar,
in an old print gown and clogs, which she left in the hall?
"Larkins sing!" said Mrs. Crump, sarcastically; "I'm
sure she ought; her mouth's big enough to sing a duet."
Poor Larkins had no one to make epigrams in her behoof;
her mother was at home tending the younger ones, her
father abroad following the duties of his profession, she
had but one protector, as she thought, and that one was
Baroski. Mrs. Crump did not fail to tell Lumley Limpiter
of her own former triumphs, and to sing him " Tink-a-
tink," which we have previously heard, and to state how

322 MEN'S WIVES.

in former days she had been called the Ravenswing. And
Lumley, on this hint, made a poem, in which he compared
Morgiana's hair to the plumage of the Ravenswing, and
Larkinissa's to that of the canary; by which two names
the ladies began soon to be known in the school.

Ere long, the flight of the Ravenswing became evidently
stronger, whereas that of the canary was seen evidently
to droop. When Morgiana sang, all the room would cry
brava; when Amelia performed, scarce a hand was raised
for applause of her, except Morgiana's own, and that the
Larkinses thought was lifted in odious triumph rather than
in sympathy, for Miss L. was of an envious turn, and little
understood the generosity of her rival.

At last, one day, the crowning victory of the Ravens-
wing came. In the trio of Baroski's own opera of " Elioga-
balo," "Rosy lips and rosy wine," Miss Larkins, who was
evidently unwell, was taking the part of the English cap-
tive, which she had sung in public concerts before royal
dukes, and with considerable applause, and, from reason,
performed it so ill, that Baroski, slapping down the music
on the piano in a fury, cried, "Mrs. Howard Walker, as
Miss Larkins cannot sing to-day, will you favour us by
taking the part of Boadicetta? " Mrs. Walker got up smil-
ingly to obey — the triumph was too great to be withstood j
and, as she advanced to the piano, Miss Larkins looked
wildly at her, and stood silent for a while, and, at last,
shrieked out " Benjamin ! " in a tone of extreme agony,
and dropped fainting down on the ground. Benjamin
looked extremely red, it must be confessed, at being thus
called by what we shall denominate his Christian name,
and Limpiter looked round at Guzzard, and Miss Brunck
nudged Miss Horsman, and the lesson concluded rather
abruptly that day, for Miss Larkins was carried off
to the next room, laid on a couch, and sprinkled with
water.

Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother should
take Miss Larkins to Bell Yard in her carriage, and went
herself home on foot; but I don't know that this piece of

MEN'S WIVES. 323

kindness prevented Larkins from hating her. I should
doubt if it did.

Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the astute
Captain Walker determined to take advantage of it for the
purpose of increasing his "connexion." He had Lumley
Limpiter at his house before long, which was, indeed, no
great matter, for honest Lum would go anywhere for a
good dinner, and an opportunity to show off his voice after-
wards, and Lumley was begged to bring any more clerks
in the Treasury of his acquaintance ; Captain Guzzard was
invited, and any officers of the Guards whom he might
choose to bring ; Bulger received occasional cards ; — in a
word, and after a short time, Mrs. Howard Walker's musi-
cal parties began to be considerably suivies. Her husband
had the satisfaction to see his rooms filled by many great
personages ; and once or twice in return (indeed, whenever
she was wanted, or when people could not afford to hire
the first singers) she was asked to parties elsewhere, and
treated with that killing civility which our English aristoc-
racy knows how to bestow on artists. Clever and wise
aristocracy! It is sweet to mark your ways, and study
your commerce with inferior men.

I was just going to commence a tirade regarding the aris-
tocracy here, and to rage against that cool assumption of
superiority which distinguishes their lordships' commerce
with artists of all sorts, that politeness which, if it conde-
scend to receive artists at all, takes care to have them alto-
gether, so that there can be no mistake about their rank —
that august patronage of art which rewards it with a silly
flourish of knighthood, to be sure, but takes care to exclude
it from any contact with its betters in society — I was, I
say, just going to commence a tirade against the aristocracy
for excluding artists from their company, and to be ex-
tremely satirical upon them, for instance, for not receiving
my friend Morgiana, when it suddenly came into my head
to ask, was Mrs. Walker fit to move in the best society? —
to which query it must humbly be replied that she was not.
Her education was not such as to make her quite the equal

324 MEN'S WIVES.

of Baker Street. She was a kind, honest, and clever crea-
ture; but, it must be confessed, not refined. Wherever
she went she had, if not the finest, at any rate the most
showy gown in the room ; her ornaments were the biggest ;
her hats, toques, berets, marabouts, and other fallals, al-
ways the most conspicuous. She drops "h's" here and
there. I have seen her eat peas with a knife (and Walker,
scowling on the opposite side of the table, striving in vain
to catch her eye) ; and I shall never forget Lady Smigmag's
horror when she asked for porter at dinner at Eichmond,
and began to drink it out of the pewter pot. It was a fine
sight. She lifted up the tankard with one of the finest
arms, covered with the biggest bracelets ever seen ; and had
a bird-of -paradise on her head, that curled round the pew-
ter-disk of the pot as she raised it, like a halo. These pe-
culiarities she had, and has still. She is best away from the
genteel world, that is the fact. When she says that " The
weather is so ?ot that it is quite debiliating ; " when she
laughs, when she hits her neighbour at dinner on the side
of the waistcoat (as she will if he should say anything that
amuses her), she does what is perfectly natural and unaf-
fected on her part, but what is not customarily done among
polite persons, who can sneer at her odd manners and her
vanity, but don't know the kindness, honesty, and simplicity
which distinguish her. This point being admitted, it fol-
lows, of course, that the tirade against the aristocracy
would, in the present instance, be out of place — so it shall
be reserved for some other occasion.

The Ravenswing was a person admirably disposed by na-
ture to be happy. She had a disposition so kindly that any
small attention would satisfy it ; was pleased when alone ;
was delighted in a crowd ; was charmed with a joke, how-
ever old ; was always ready to laugh, to sing, to dance, or
to be merry ; was so tender-hearted that the smallest bal-
lad would make her cry, and hence was supposed, by many
persons, to be extremely affected, and by almost all, to be
a downright coquette. Several competitors for her favour
presented themselves besides Baroski. Young dandies

MEN'S WIVES. 325

used to canter round her phaeton in the Park, and might
be seen haunting her doors in the mornings. The fashion-
able artist of the day made a drawing of her, which was
engraved and sold in the shops ; a copy of it was printed in
a song, " Black-eyed Maiden of Araby," the words by Des-
mond Mulligan, Esq., the music composed and dedicated
to MRS. HOWARD WALKER, by her most faithful and
obliged servant, Benjamin Baroski, and at night her Opera-
box was full. Her Opera-box? Yes, the heiress of the
Bootjack actually had an Opera-box, and some of the most
fashionable manhood of London attended it.

Now, in fact, was the time of her greatest prosperity ;
and her husband gathering these fashionable characters
about him, extended his " agency " considerably, and began
to thank his stars that he had married a woman who was
as good as a fortune to him.

In extending his agency, however, Mr. Walker increased
his expenses proportionably, and multiplied his debts ac-
cordingly. More furniture and more plate, more wines and
more dinner-parties, became necessary; the little pony-
phaeton was exchanged for a brougham of evenings ; and
we may fancy our old friend Mr. Eglantine's rage and dis-
gust, as he looked up from the pit of the Opera, to see Mrs.
Walker surrounded by what he called " the swell young
nobs" about London, bowing to my lord, and laughing
with his grace, and led to her carriage by Sir John.

The B-avenswing's position at this period was rather an
exceptional one. She was an honest woman, visited by
that peculiar class of our aristocracy who chiefly associate
with ladies who are not honest. She laughed with all, but
she encouraged none. Old Crump was constantly at her
side now when she appeared in public, the most watchful
of mammas, always awake at the Opera, though she seemed
to be always asleep ; but no dandy debauchee could deceive
her vigilance, and for this reason, Walker, who disliked
her, as every man naturally will, must, and should dislike
his mother-in-law, was contented to suffer her in his house
to act as a chaperon to Morgiana,

326 MEN'S WIVES.

None of the young dandies ever got admission of morn-
ings to the little mansion in the Edgeware Road ; the blinds
were always down; and though you might hear Morgiana's
voice half across the Park as she was practising, yet the
youthful hall-porter, in the sugar-loaf buttons, was in-
structed to deny her, and always declared that his mistress
was gone out, with the most admirable assurance.

After some two years of her life of splendour, there
were, to be sure, a good number of morning visitors, who
oame with single knocks, and asked for Captain Walker,
but these were no more admitted than the dandies afore-
said, and were referred, generally, to the captain' s Office,
whither they went or not at their convenience. The only
man who obtained admission into the house was Baroski,
whose cab transported him thrice a week to the neighbour-
hood of Connaught Square, and who obtained ready en-
trance in his professional capacity.

But even then, and much to the wicked little music-mas-
ter's disappointment, the dragon Crump was always at
the piano with her endless worsted work, or else reading
her unfailing Sunday Times / and Baroski could only em-
ploy "de langvitch of de ice," as he called it, with his
fair pupil, who used to mimic his manner of rolling his
eyes about afterwards, and perform "Baroski in love," for
the amusement of her husband and her mamma. The for-
mer had his reasons for overlooking the attentions of the
little music-master ; and as for the latter, had she not been
on the stage, and had not many hundreds of persons, in
jest or earnest, made love to her? What else can a pretty
woman expect, who is much before the public? And so
the worthy mother counselled her daughter to bear these
attentions with good humour, rather than to make them a
subject of perpetual alarm and quarrel.

Baroski, then, was allowed to go on being in love, and
was never in the least disturbed in his passion; and if he
was not successful, at least the little wretch could have the
pleasure of hinting that he was, and looking particularly
roguish when the Kavenswing was named, and assuring his

MEN'S WIVES. 327

friends at the club, that " upon his vort dere vas no trut in
dat rebort."

At last one day it happened that Mrs. Crump did not
arrive in time for her daughter's lesson (perhaps it rained,
and the omnibus was full — a smaller circumstance than
that has changed a whole life ere now) — Mrs. Crump did
not arrive, and Baroski did, and Morgiana, seeing no great
harm, sat down to her lesson as usual, and in the midst of
it down went the music-master on his knees, and made a
declaration in the most eloquent terms he could muster.

"Don't be a fool, Baroski! " said the lady (I can't help
it if her language was not more choice, and if she did not
rise with cold dignity, exclaiming, "Unhand me, sir!") —
" don't be a fool ! " said Mrs. Walker, " but get up and let's
finish the lesson."

" You hard-hearted adorable little greature, vill you not
listen to me? "

"No, I vill not listen to you, Benjamin! " concluded the
lady ; " get up and take a chair, and don't go on in that
ridiklous way, don't! "

But Baroski, having a speech by heart, determined to
deliver himself of it in that posture, and begged Morgiana
not to turn avay her divine hice, and to listen to de voice
of his despair, and so forth, and seized the lady's hand,
and was going to press it to his lips, when she said, with
more spirit, perhaps, than grace, —

" Leave go my hand, sir, I'll box your ears if you don't ! "

But Baroski wouldn't release her hand, and was proceed-
ing to imprint a kiss upon it, and Mrs. Crump, who had
taken the omnibus at a quarter past twelve instead of that
at twelve, had just opened the drawing-room door and was
walking in, when Morgiana, turning as red as a peony, and
unable to disengage her left hand which the musician held,
raised up her right hand, and, with all her might and main,
gave her lover such a tremendous slap in the face as caused
him abruptly to release the hand which he held, and would
have laid him prostrate on the carpet but for Mrs. Crump,
who rushed forward and prevented him from falling by ad-

328 MEN'S WIVES.

ministering right and left a whole shower of slaps, such as
he had never endured since the day he was at school.

"What imperence! " said that worthy lady; "you'll lay
hands on my daughter will you? (one, two). You'll in-
sult a woman in distress, will you, you little coward? (one,
two). Take that, and mind your manners, you filthy mon-
ster!"

Baroski bounced up in a fury. " By Chofe, you shall
hear of dis ! " shouted he ; " you shall pay me dis ! "

"As many more as you please, little Benjamin," cried
the widow. "Augustus (to the page), was that the cap-
tain's knock? " At this Baroski made for his hat. "Au-
gustus, show this imperence to the door, and, if he tries to
come in again, call a policeman, do you hear? "

The music-master vanished very rapidly, and the two la-
dies, instead of being frightened, or falling into hysterics
as their betters would have done, laughed at the odious
monster's discomfiture, as they called him. "Such a man
as that set himself up against my Howard ! " said Morgiana,
with becoming pride ; but it was agreed between them that
Howard should know nothing of what had occurred for
fear of quarrels, or lest he should be annoyed. So when
he came home not a word was said ; and only that his wife
met him with more warmth than usual, you could not have
guessed that anything extraordinary had occurred. It is
not my fault that my heroine's sensibilities were not more
keen, that she had not the least occasion for sal-volatile or
symptom of a fainting fit ; but so it was, and Mr. Howard
Walker knew nothing of the quarrel between his wife and
her instructor, until * * *

Until he was arrested next day at the suit of Benjamin
Baroski for two hundred and twenty guineas, and, in de-
fault of payment, was conducted by Mr. Tobias Larkins to
his principal's lock-up house in Chancery Lane.

MEN'S WIVES. 329

CHAPTER V.

IN WHICH MR. WALKER FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES, AND
MRS. WALKER MAKES MANY FOOLISH ATTEMPTS TO
RESCUE HIM.

I HOPE the beloved reader is not silly enough to imagine
that Mr. Walker on finding himself inspunged for debt in
Chancery Lane, was so foolish as to think of applying to
any of his friends (those great personages who have ap-
peared every now and then in the course of this little his-
tory, and have served to give it a fashionable air). No,
no; he knew the world too well: and that, though Bil-
lingsgate would give him as many dozen of claret as he
could carry away under his belt, as the phrase is (I can't
help it, Madam, if the phrase is not more genteel), and
though Vauxhall would lend him his carriage, slap him
on the back, and dine at his house ; their lordships would
have seen Mr. Walker depending from a beam in front of
the Old Bailey rather than have helped him to a hundred
pounds.

And why, forsooth, should we expect otherwise in the
world? I observe that men who complain of its selfishness
are quite as selfish as the world is, and no more liberal of
money than their neighbours ; and I am quite sure with
regard to Captain Walker that he would have treated a
friend in want exactly as he when in want was treated.
There was only his lady who in the least was afflicted by
his captivity ; and as for the club, that went on, we are
bound to say, exactly as it did on the day previous to his
disappearance.

By the way, about clubs — could we not, but for fear of
detaining the fair reader too long, enter into a wholesome
dissertation here, on the manner of friendship established
in those institutions, and the noble feeling of selfishness
which they are likely to encourage in the male race? I put

330 MEN'S WIVES.

out of the question the stale topics of complaint, such as
leaving home, encouraging gormandising, and luxurious
habits, &c. ; but look also at the dealings of club-men with
one another. Look at the rush for the evening paper!
See how Shiverton orders a fire in the dog-days, and Swet-
tenham opens the windows in February. See how Cramley
takes the whole breast of the turkey on his plate, and how
many times Jenkins sends away his beggarly half -pint of
sherry! Clubbery is organised egotism. Club intimacy is
carefully and wonderfully removed from friendship. You
meet Smith for twenty years, exchange the day's news
with him, laugh with him over the last joke, grow as well
acquainted as two men may be together — and one day, at
the end of the list of members of the club, you read in a
little paragraph by itself, with all the honours,

MEMBER DECEASED.

Smith, John, Esq.;

or he, on the other hand, has the advantage of reading
your own name selected for a similar typographical distinc-
tion. There it is, that abominable little exclusive list at
the end of every club-catalogue — you can't avoid it — I be-
long to eight clubs myself, and know that one year Fitz-
Boodle, George Savage, Esq. (unless it should please fate
to remove my brother and his six sons, when of course it
would be Fitz-Boodle, Sir George Savage, Bart.), will ap-
pear in the dismal category. There is that list; down I
must go in it : — the day will come, and I shan't be seen
in the bow-window, some one else will be sitting in the
vacant arm-chair : the rubber will begin as usual, and yet
somehow Fitz will not be there. " Where's Fitz? " says
Trumpington, just arrived from the Rhine. "Don't you
know? " says Punter, turning down his thumb to the car-
pet. " You led the club, I think? " says Ruff to his part-
ner (the other partner!), and the waiter snuffs the candles.

I hope in the course of the above little pause, every sin-

MEN'S WIVES. 331

gle member of a club who reads this has profited by the
perusal. He may belong, I say, to eight clubs, he will die
and not be missed by any of the five thousand members.
Peace be to him; the waiters will forget him, and his
name will pass away, and another great-coat will hang on
the hook whence his own used to be dependent.

And this I need not say is the beauty of the club-insti-
tutions. If it were otherwise, — if forsooth we were to be
sorry when our friends died, or to draw our purses when
our friends were in want, we should be insolvent, and life
would be miserable. Be it ours to button up our pockets
and our hearts ; and to make merry — it is enough to swim
down this life-stream for ourselves ; if Poverty is clutching
hold of our heels, or Friendship would catch an arm, kick
them both off. Every man for himself, is the word, and
plenty to do too.

My friend Captain Walker had practised the above
maxims so long and resolutely as to be quite aware when
he came himself to be in distress, that not a single soul in
the whole universe would help him, and he took his meas-
ures accordingly.

When carried to Mr. Bendigo's lock-up house, he sum-
moned that gentleman in a very haughty way, took a blank
banker's cheque out of his pocket-book, and filling it up
for the exact sum of the writ, orders Mr. Bendigo forth-
with to open the door and let him go forth.

Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and put-
ting a finger covered all over with diamond rings to his ex-
tremely aquiline nose, inquired of Mr. Walker whether he
saw anything green about his face? intimating by this^gay
and good-humoured interrogatory his suspicion of the un-
satisfactory nature of the document handed over to him by
Mr. Walker.

" Hang it, sir ! " says Mr. Walker, " go and get the
cheque cashed, and be quick about it. Send your man in
a cab, and here's a half-crown to "pay for it." The con-
fident air somewhat staggers the bailiff, who asked him
whether he would like any refreshment while his man was

332 MEN'S WIVES.

absent getting the amount of the cheque, and treats his
prisoner with great civility during the time of the messen-
ger's journey.

But as Captain Walker had but a balance of two pounds
five and two-pence (this sum was afterwards divided
among his creditors, the law -expenses being previously
deducted from, it), the bankers of course declined to cash
the captain's draft for two hundred and odd pounds, sim-
ply writing the words "no effects" on the paper; on
receiving which reply Walker, far from being cast down,
burst out laughing very gayly, produced a real five-pound
note, and called upon his host for a bottle of champagne,
which the two worthies drank in perfect friendship and
good-humour. The bottle was scarcely finished, and the
young Israelitish gentleman who acts as waiter in Cursitor
Street had only time to remove the flask and the glasses,
when poor Morgiana with a flood of tears rushed into her
husband's arms, and flung herself on his neck, and calling
Mm her "dearest, blessed Howard," would have fainted at
his feet; but that he, breaking out in a fury of oaths,
asked her how, after getting him into that scrape through
her infernal extravagance, she dared to show her face be-
fore him? This address speedily frightened the poor thing
out of her fainting fit — there is nothing so good for female
hysterics as a little conjugal sternness, nay brutality, as
many husbands can aver who are in the habit of employ-
ing the remedy.

" My extravagance, Howard? " said she, in a faint way ;
and quite put off her purpose of swooning by the sudden
attack made upon her — " Surely, my love, you have nothing
to complain of "

"To complain of, ma' am? " roared the excellent Walker.
u Is two hundred guineas to a music-master nothing to
complain of? Did you bring me such a fortune as to
authorise your taking guinea lessons? Haven't I raised
you out of your sphere of life and introduced you to
the best of the land? Haven't I dressed you like a
duchess? Haven't I been for you such a husband as very

MEN'S WIVES. 333

few women in the world ever had, madam — answer me
that? "

" Indeed, Howard, you were always very kind," sobbed
the lady.

" Haven't I toiled and slaved for you, — been out all day
working for you? Haven't I allowed your vulgar old
mother to come to your house — to my house, I say?
Haven't I done all this? "

She could not deny it, and Walker, who was in a rage
(and when a man is in a rage, for what on earth is a wife
made for but that he should vent his rage on her?), con-
tinued for some time in this strain, and so abused, fright-
ened, and overcame poor Morgiana, that she left her hus-
band fully convinced that she was the most guilty of
beings, and bemoaning his double bad fortune that her
Howard was ruined and she the cause of his misfortunes.

When she was gone, Mr. Walker resumed his equanimity
(for he was not one of those men whom a few months of
the King's Bench were likely to terrify), and drank several
glasses of punch in company with his host, with whom in
perfect calmness he talked over his affairs. That he in-
tended to pay his debt and quit the spunging-house next
day is a matter of course ; no one ever was yet put in a
spunging-house that did not pledge his veracity he in-
tended to quit it to-morrow. Mr. Bendigo said he should
be heartily glad to open the door to him, and in the mean-
time sent out diligently to see among his friends if there
were any more detainers against the Captain, and to inform
the Captain's creditors to come forward against him.

Morgiana went home in profound grief it may be imag-
ined, and could hardly refrain from bursting into tears,
when the sugar-loaf page asked whether master was com-
ing home early, or whether he had taken his key ; and lay
awake tossing and wretched the whole night, and very
early in the morning rose up, and dressed, and went out.

Before nine o'clock she was inCursitor Street; and once
more joyfully bounced into her husband's arms, who woke
up yawning and swearing somewhat, with a severe head-

334 MEN'S WIVES.

ache, occasioned by the jollification of the previous night;
for, strange though it may seein, there are perhaps no
places in Europe where jollity is more practised than in
prisons for debt; and I declare for my own part (I mean,
of course, that I went to visit a friend) I have dined at
Mr. Aniinadab's as sumptuously as at Long's.

But it is necessary to account for Morgiana's joyfulness,
which was strange in her husband's perplexity, and after
her sorrow of the previous night. Well, then, when Mrs.
Walker went out in the morning, as she did with a very
large basket under her arm, " Shall I carry the basket,
ma'am? " said the page, seizing it with much alacrity.

"No, thank you," cried his mistress, with equal eager-
ness : " it's only -"

"Of course, ma'am," replied the boy, sneering, "I knew
it was that."

"Glass," continued Mrs. Walker turning extremely red.
" Have the goodness to call a coach, sir, and not to speak
till you are questioned."

The young gentleman disappeared upon his errand : the
coach was called and came. Mrs. Walker slipped into it
with her basket, and the page went downstairs to his com-
panions in the kitchen, and said, "It's a comin' ! master's
in quod, and missus has gone out to pawn the plate."
When the cook went out that day, she somehow had by
mistake placed in her basket a dozen of table-knives and a
plated egg-stand. When the lady's-maid took a walk in
the course of the afternoon, she found she had occasion
for eight cambric pocket-handkerchiefs (marked with her
mistress's cipher), half a dozen pair of shoes, gloves, long
and short, some silk stockings, and a gold-headed scent-
bottle. "Both the new cashmires is gone," said she, "and
there's nothing left in Mrs. Walker's trinket-box but a
paper of pins and an old coral bracelet." As for the page,
he rushed incontinently to his master's dressing-room and
examined every one of the pockets of his clothes : made a
parcel of some of them, and opened all the drawers which
Walker had not locked before his departure. He only

MEN'S WIVES. 335

found three-halfpence and a bill-stamp, and about forty-
five tradesmen's accounts, neatly labelled and tied up with
red tape. These three worthies, a groom, who was a great
admirer of Trimmer the lady's-maid, and a policeman, a
friend of the cook's, sat down to a comfortable dinner at
the usual hour, and it was agreed among them all that
Walker's ruin was certain. The cook made the policeman
a present of a china punch-bowl which Mrs. Walker had
given her; and the lady's-maid gave her friend the "Book
of Beauty" for last year, and the third volume of Byron's
poems from the drawing-room table.

"I'm dash'd if she ain't taken the little French clock,
too," said the page, and so indeed Mrs. Walker had; it
slipped in the basket where it lay enveloped in one of her
shawls, and then struck madly and unnaturally a great
number of times, as Morgiana was lifting her store of
treasures out of the hackney-coach. The coachman wagged
his head sadly as he saw her walking as quick as she could
under her heavy load, and disappearing round the corner
of the street at which Mr. Ball's celebrated jewellery
establishment is situated. It is a grand shop, with mag-
nificent silver cups and salvers, rare gold-headed canes,
flutes, watches, diamond brooches, and a few fine speci-
mens of the old masters in the window, and under the
words —

BALLS, JEWELLER,
you read, Money Lent

in the very smallest type, on the door.

The interview with Mr. Balls need not be described, but
it must have been a satisfactory one, for at the end of half
an hour, Morgiana returned and bounded into the coach
with sparkling eyes, and told the driver to gallop to Cur-
sitor Street, which, smiling, he promised to do : and ac-
cordingly set off in that direction at the rate of four miles
an hour. "I thought so," said the philosophic charioteer.
"When a man's in quod, a woman don't mind her silver
spoons ; " and he was so delighted with her action, that

15 Vol. 13

336 MEN'S WIVES.

he forgot to grumble when she came to settle accounts
with him, even though she gave him only double his
fare.

"Take me to him," said she to the young Hebrew who
opened the door.

"To whom? " says the sarcastic youth; "there's twenty
hims here. You're precious early."

"To Captain Walker, young man," replied Morgiana
haughtily, whereupon the youth opening the second door,
and seeing Mr. Bendigo in a flowered dressing-gown de-
scending the stairs exclaimed, "Papa, here's a lady for the
Captain." "I'm come to free him," said she, trembling
and holding out a bundle of banknotes. "Here's the
amount of your claim, sir — two hundred and twenty
pounds, as you told me last night ; " and the Jew took the
notes, and grinned as he looked at her, and grinned double
as he looked at his son, and begged Mrs. Walker to step
into his study and take a receipt. When the door of that
apartment closed upon the lady and his father, Mr. Ben-
digo the younger fell back in an agony of laughter, which
it is impossible to describe in words, and presently ran out
into a court where some of the luckless inmates of the
house were already taking the air, and communicated
something to them which made those individuals also laugh
as uproariously as he had previously done.

Well, after joyfully taking the receipt from Mr. Bendigo
(how her cheeks flushed and her heart fluttered as she
dried it on the blotting-book!), and after turning very pale
again on hearing that the Captain had had a very bad
night; "And well he might, poor dear!" said she (at
which Mr. Bendigo, having no person to grin at, grinned
at a marble bust of Mr. Pitt, which ornamented his side-
board). Morgiana, I say, these preliminaries being con-
cluded, was conducted to her husband's apartment, and
once more flinging her arms round her dearest Howard's
neck, told him with one of the sweetest smiles in the world
to make haste and get up and come home, for breakfast
was waiting and the carriage at the door.

MEN'S WIVES. 337

"What do you mean, love?" said the Captain, starting
up and looking exceedingly surprised.

" I mean that my dearest is free ; that the odious little
creature is paid — at least the horrid bailiff is."

"Have you been to Baroski?" said Walker, turning
very red.

"Howard! " said his wife, quite indignant.

"Did — did your mother give you the money? " asked the
Captain.

"No ; I had it by me," replies Mrs. Walker, with a very
knowing look.

Walker was more surprised than ever. " Have you any
more money by you? " said he.

Mrs. Walker showed him her purse with two guineas;
"That is all, love," she said. "And I wish," continued
she, "you would give me a draft to pay a whole list of
little bills that have somehow all come in within the last
few days."

"Well, well, you shall have the cheque," continued Mr.
Walker, and began forthwith to make his toilet, which
completed, he rung for Mr. Bendigo, and his bill, and in-
timated his wish to go home directly.

The honoured bailiff brought the bill, but with regard to
his being free, said it was impossible.

"How impossible? " said Mrs. Walker, turning very red
and then very pale. " Did I not pay just now? "

"So you did, and you've got the reshipt; but there's an-
other detainer against the Captain for a hundred and fifty.
Eglantine and Mossrose, of Bond Street; — perfumery for
five years, you know."

" You don't mean to say you were such a fool as to pay
without asking if there were any more detainers? " roared
Walker to his wife.

"Yes, she was though," chuckled Mr. Bendigo; "but
she'll know better the next time: and, besides, Captain,
what's a hundred and fifty pounds to you? "

Though Walker desired nothing so much in the world
at that moment as the liberty to knock down his wife, his

338 MEN'S WIVES.

sense of prudence overcame his desire for justice, if that
feeling may^be called prudence on his part which consisted
in a strong wish to cheat the bailiff into the idea that he
(Walker) was an exceedingly respectable and wealthy
man. Many worthy persons indulge in this fond notion,
that they are imposing upon the world, strive to fancy, for
instance, that their bankers consider them men of property
because they keep a tolerable balance, pay little trades-
men7 s bills with ostentatious punctuality, and so forth, —
but the world, let us be pretty sure, is as wise as need be,
and guesses our real condition with a marvellous instinct,
or learns it with curious skill. The London tradesman is
one of the keenest judges of human nature extant; and if
a tradesman, how much more a bailiff? though, in reply to
the ironic question, "What's a hundred and fifty pounds
to you?" Walker, collecting himself, answers, "It is an
infamous imposition, and I owe the money no more than
you do, but, nevertheless, I shall instruct my lawyers to
pay it in the course of the morning, under protest of
course."

"Oh, of course," said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and quitting
the room, and leaving Mrs. Walker to the pleasure of a
tete-a-tete with her husband.

And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, the
worthy gentleman began an address to her which cannot be
put down on paper here ; because the world is exceedingly
squeamish, and does not care to hear the whole truth about
rascals, and because the fact is that almost every other
word of the Captain's speech was a curse, such as would
shock the beloved reader were it put in print.

Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel
disappointed and in a fury, wreaking his brutal revenge
upon an amiable woman, who sits trembling and pale, and
wondering at this sudden exhibition of wrath. Fancy
how he clenches his fists and stands over her, and stamps
and screams out curses with a livid face, growing "wilder
and wilder in his rage; wrenching her hand when she
wants to turn away, and only stopping at last when she

MEN'S WIVES. 339

has fallen off the chair in a fainting fit, with a heart-break-
ing sob that made the Jew -boy who was listening at the
key-hole turn quite pale and walk away. Well, it is best,
perhaps, that such a conversation should not be told at
length : — at the end of it, when Mr. Walker had his wife
lifeless on the floor, he seized a water-jug and poured it
over her, which operation pretty soon brought her to her-
self, and shaking her black ringlets, she looked up once
more again timidly into his face, and took his hand, and
began to cry.

He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice : and let her
keep paddling on with his hand as before; he couldn't
speak very fiercely to the poor girl in her attitude of de-
feat, and tenderness, and supplication. "Morgiana," said
he, "your extravagance and carelessness have brought me
to ruin, I'm afraid. If you'd chosen to have gone to
Baroski, a word from you would have made him withdraw
the writ; and my property wouldn't have been sacrificed
as it has now been for nothing. It mayn't be yet too late,
however, to retrieve ourselves. This bill of Eglantine's is
a regular conspiracy, I am sure, between Mossrose and
Bendigo here: you must goto Eglantine — he's an old —
an old flame of yours, you know."

She dropped his hand; "I can't go to Eglantine after
what has passed between us," she said; but Walker's face
instantly began to wear a certain look, and she said with a
shudder, "Well, well, dear, I will go." "You will go to
Eglantine, and ask him to take a bill for the amount of this
shameful demand — at any date, never mind what. Mind,
however, to see him alone, and I'm sure if you choose you
can settle the business. Make haste ; set off directly, and
come back, as there may be more detainers in."

Trembling, and in a great flutter, Morgiana put on her
bonnet and gloves and went towards the door. " It's a fine
morning," said Mr. Walker, looking out; "a walk will
do you good; and — Morgiana — didn't you say you had a
couple of guineas in your pocket? "

"Here it is," said she, smiling all at once, and holding

340 MEN'S WIVES.

up her face to be kissed. She paid the two guineas for
the kiss. Was it not a mean act? "Is it possible that
people can love where they do not respect? " says Miss
Prim: "2 never would." Nobody asked you, Miss Prim:
but recollect Morgiana was not born with your advantages
of education and breeding ; and was, in fact, a poor vulgar
creature, who loved Mr. Walker, not because her mamma
told her, nor because he was an exceedingly eligible and
well-brought up young man; but because she could not
help it, and knew no better. Nor is Mrs. Walker set up as
a model of virtue : ah no ! when I want a model of virtue
I will call in Baker Street, and ask for a sitting of my
dear (if I may be permitted to say so) Miss Prim.

We have Mr. Howard Walker safely housed in Mr. Ben-
digo's establishment in Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane;
and it looks like mockery and want of feeling towards the
excellent hero of this story, or, as should rather be said
towards the husband of the heroine, to say what he might
have been but for the unlucky little circumstance of Ba-
roski's passion for Morgiana.

If Baroski had not fallen in love with Morgiana, he
would not have given her two hundred guineas' worth of
lessons, he would not have so far presumed as to seize her
hand and attempt to kiss it ; if he had not attempted to
kiss her, she would not have boxed his ears ; he would not
have taken out the writ against Walker; Walker would
have been free, very possibly rich, and therefore certainly
respected; he always said that a month's more liberty
would have set him beyond the reach of misfortune.

The assertion is very likely a correct one : for Walker
had a flashy, enterprising genius, which ends in wealth
sometimes, in the King's Bench not seldom, occasionally,
alas, in Van Diemen's land! He might have been rich,
could he have kept his credit, and had not his personal ex-
penses and extravagances pulled him down. He had gal-
lantly availed himself of his wife's fortune; nor could any
man in London, as he proudly said, have made five hun-
dred pounds go so far. He had, as we have seen, fur*

MEN'S WIVES. 341

nished a house, sideboard, and cellar with it ; he had a car-
riage, and horses in his stable, and with the remainder he
had purchased shares in four companies — of three of which
he was founder and director, had conducted innumerable
bargains in the foreign stocks, had lived and entertained
sumptuously, and made himself a very considerable income.
He had set up The Capitol Loan and Life Assurance Com-
pany, had discovered the Chimborazo gold mines, and the
Society for Recovering and Draining the Pontine Marshes;
capital ten millions; patron, His Holiness the Pope. It
certainly was stated in an evening paper that his Holiness
had made him a Knight of the Spur, and had offered to
him the rank of Count ; and he was raising a loan for His
Highness the Cacique of Panama, who has sent him (by
way of dividend) the grand cordon of his Highness' s order
of the Castle and Falcon, which might be seen any day at
his office in Bond Street, with the parchments signed and
sealed by the Grand Marshal and Falcon King at Arms of
his Highness. In a week more, Walker would have
raised a hundred thousand pounds, on his Highness' s
twenty per cent, loan ; he would have had fifteen thousand
pounds commission for himself ; his companies would have
risen to par, he would have realised his shares ; he would
have gone into parliament, he would have been made a
baronet, who knows? a peer, probably! "And I appeal
to you, sir," Walker would say to his friends, "could any
man have shown better proof of his affection for his wife,
than by laying out her little miserable money as I did?
They call me heartless, sir, because I didn't succeed;
sir, my life has been a series of sacrifices for that woman,
such as no man ever performed before."

A proof of Walker' s dexterity and capability for business
may be seen in the fact that he had actually appeased and
reconciled one of his bitterest enemies — our honest friend
Eglantine. After Walker's marriage, Eglantine, who had
now no mercantile dealings with his former agent became
so enraged with him, that, as the only means of revenge in
his power, he sent him in his bill for goods supplied to the

342 MEN'S WIVES.

amount of one hundred and fifty guineas, and sued him
for the amount. But Walker stepped boldly over to hia
enemy, and in the course of half an hour they were friends.

Eglantine promised to forego his claim ; and accepted in
lieu of it three 100Z. shares of the ex-Panama stock, bear-
ing 25 per cent. , payable half-yearly at the house of Hocus
Brothers, St. Swithin's Lane; three 100£. shares, the sec-
ond class of the order of the Castle and Falcon, with the
riband and badge. " In four years, Eglantine, my boy, I
hope to get you the Grand Cordon of the order," said
Walker ; " I hope to see you a Knight Grand Cross : with
a grant of a hundred thousand acres reclaimed from the
Isthmus."

To do my poor Eglantine justice, he did not care for
the hundred thousand acres — it was the star that delighted
him ; — ah ! how his fat chest heaved with delight as he
sewed on the cross and riband to his dress coat ; and lighted
up four wax candles and looked at himself in the glass.
He was known to wear a great-coat after that — it was that
he might wear the cross under it. That year he went on
a trip to Boulogne. He was dreadfully ill during the
voyage, but as the vessel entered the port he was seen to
emerge from the cabin, his coat open, the star blazing on
his chest, the soldiers saluted him as he walked the streets,
he was called Monsieur le Chevalier, and when he went
home he entered into negotiations with Walker, to purchase
a commission in his Highness' s service. Walker said he
would get the nominal rank of Captain, the fees at the
Panama War Office were five-and-twenty pounds, which
sum honest Eglantine produced, and had his commission,
and a pack of visiting cards printed as Captain Archibald
Eglantine, K.C.F. Many a time he looked at them as
they lay in his desk, and he kept the cross in his dressing-
table, and wore it as he shaved every morning.

His Highness the Cacique, it is well known, came to
England, and had lodgings in Regent Street, where he held
a levee, at which Eglantine appeared in the Panama uni-
form, and was most graciously received by his Sovereign.

MEN'S WIVES. 343

His Highness proposed to make Captain Eglantine his aide-
de-camp with the rank of Colonel, but the Captain's ex-
chequer was rather low at that moment, and the fees at the
" War-Office " were peremptory. Meanwhile his Highness
left Eegent Street, was said by some to have returned to
Panama, by others to be in his native city of Cork, by
others to be leading a life of retirement in the New Cut,
Lambeth; at any rate was not visible for some time, so
that Captain Eglantine's advancement did not take place.
Eglantine was somehow ashamed to mention his military
and chivalric rank to Mr. Mossrose, when that gentleman
came into partnership with him ; and left these facts secret
until they were detected by a very painful circumstance.

On the very day when Walker was arrested at the suit
of Benjamin Baroski, there appeared in the newspapers an
account of the imprisonment of his Highness the Prince of
Panama, for a bill owing to a licensed victualler in Eatcliff
Highway. The magistrate to whom the victualler subse-
quently came to complain, passed many pleasantries on the
occasion. He asked whether his Highness did not drink
like a swan with two necks ; whether he had brought any
Belles savages with him from Panama, and so forth ; and
the whole court, said the report, "was convulsed with
laughter, when Boniface produced a green and yellow
riband with a large star of the order of the Castle and Fal-
con, with which his Highness proposed to gratify him, in
lieu of paying his little bill."

It was as he was reading the above document with a
bleeding heart that Mr. Mossrose came in from his daily
walk to the City. "Veil, Eglantine," says he, "have you
heard the newsh? "

"About his Highness?"

"About your friend Valker; he's arrested for two hun-
dred poundsh ! "

Eglantine at this could contain no more ; but told his
story of how he had been induced to accept 300L of
Panama stock for his account against Walker, and cursed
his stars for his folly.

344 MEN'S WIVES.

"Veil, you've only to bring in another bill," said the
younger perfumer; "swear he owes you a hundred and
fifty pounds, and we'll have a writ out against him this
afternoon."

And so a second writ was taken out against Captain
Walker.

"You'll have his wife here very likely in a day or two,"
said Mr. Mossrose to his partner; "them chaps always
sends their wives, and I hope you know how to deal with
her."

"I don't value her a fig's hend," said Eglantine. " I'll
treat her like the dust of the hearth. After that woman's
conduct to me, I should like to see her have the haudacity
to come here; and if she does, you'll see how I'll serve
her."

The worthy perfumer was, in fact, resolved to be ex-
ceedingly hard-hearted, in his behaviour towards his old
love, and acted over at night in bed the scene which was to
occur when the meeting should take place. Oh, thought
he, but it will be a grand thing to see the proud Morgiana
on her knees to me ; and me a pointing to the door ; and
saying, "Madam, you've steeled this 'eart against you,
you have ; — bury the recollection of old times, of those old
times when I thought my 'eart would have broke, but it
didn't — no, 'earts are made of sterner stuff. I didn't die
as I thought I should; I stood it, and live to see the
woman I despised at my feet — ha, ha, at my feet ! "

In the midst of these thoughts Mr. Eglantine fell asleep ;
but it was evident that the idea of seeing Morgiana once
more agitated him considerably, else why should he have
been at the pains of preparing so much heroism? His
sleep was exceedingly fitful and troubled ; he saw Morgiana
in a hundred shapes; he dreamed that he was dressing
her hair ; that he was riding with her to Richmond ; that
the horse turned into a dragon, and Morgiana into Wool-
sey, who took him by the throat and choked him, while
the dragon played the key-bugle. And in the morning
when Mossrose was gone to his business in the City, and

MEN'S WIVES. 345

lie sat reading the Morning Post in his study, ah! what
a thump his heart gave as the lady of his dreams actually
stood before him !

Many a lady who purchased brushes at Eglantine's shop
would have given ten guineas for such a colour as his when
he saw her. His heart beat violently, he was almost chok-
ing in his stays — he had been prepared for the visit, but
his courage failed him now it had come. They were both
silent for some minutes.

"You know what I am come f or," at last said Mor-
giana from under her veil, but she put it aside as she
spoke.

"I — that is — yes — it's a painful affair, mem," he said,
giving one look at her pale face, and then turning away in a
flurry. " I beg to refer you to Blunt, Hone, and Sharpus,
my lawyers, mem," he added, collecting himself.

"I didn't expect this from you, Mr. Eglantine, "said the
lady, and began to sob.

"And after what's 'appened, I didn't expect a visit from
you, mem. I thought Mrs. Capting Walker was too great
a dame to visit poor Harchibald Eglantine (though some
of the first men in the country do visit him). Is there
anything in which I can oblige you, mem? "

" 0 heavens ! " cried the poor woman ; " have I no friend
left? I never thought that you, too, would have deserted
me, Mr. Archibald."

The "Archibald," pronounced in the old way, had evi-
dently an effect on the perfumer ; he winced and looked at
her very eagerly for a moment. "What can I do for you,
mem? " at last said he.

" What is this bill against Mr. Walker, for which he is
now in prison? "

" Perfumery supplied for five years ; that man used more
'air-brushes than any duke in the land, and as for Eau de
Cologne he must have bathed himself in it. He hordered
me about like a lord. He never paid me one shilling, — he
stabbed me in my most vital part — but, ah ! ah ! never mind
that: and I said I would be revenged, and I am."

346 MEN'S WIVES.

The perfumer was quite in a rage again by this time,
and wiped his fat face with his pocket-handkerchief, and
glared upon Mrs. Walker with a most determined air.

"Revenged on whom? Archibald — Mr. Eglantine, re-
venged on me — on a poor woman whom you made miser-
able. You would not have done so once."

"Ha! and a precious way you treated me once," said
Eglantine; "don't talk to me, mem, of once. Bury the
recollection of once for hever! I though my 'eart would
have broke once, but no; 'earts are made of sterner stuff.
I didn't die as I thought I should; I stood it — and I live
to see the woman who despised me at my feet."

" Oh, Archibald ! " was all the lady could say, and she
fell to sobbing again ; it was perhaps her best argument
with the perfumer.

"Oh, Harchibald, indeed!" continued he, beginning to
swell ; " don' t call me Harchibald, Morgiana. Think what
a position you might have held, if you'd chose: when,
when — you might have called me Harchibald. Now it's
no use," added he, with harrowing pathos; "but, though
I've been wronged, I can't bear to see women in tears —
tell me what I can do? "

"Dear, good Mr. Eglantine, send to your lawyers and
stop this horrid prosecution — take Mr. Walker's acknowl-
edgment for the debts. If he is free, he is sure to have a
very large sum of money in a few days, and will pay you
all. Do not ruin him — do not ruin me by persisting now.
Be the old kind Eglantine you were."

Eglantine took a hand, which Morgiana did not refuse ;
lie thought about old times. He had known her since
childhood almost ; as a girl he dandled her on his knee at
the Kidneys; as a woman he had adored her, — his heart
was melted.

"He did pay me in a sort of way," reasoned the per-
fumer with himself — " these bonds, though they are not
worth much, I took 'em for better or for worse, and I can't
bear to see her crying, and to trample on a woman in dis-
tress. Morgiana," he added, in a loud cheerful voice,

MEN'S WIVES. 347

"cheer up; I'll give you a release for your husband: I will
be the old kind Eglantine I was."

" Be the old kind jackass you vash ! " here roared a voice
that made Mr. Eglantine start. " Yy, vat an old fat fool
you are, Eglantine, to give up our just debts because a
voman comes snivelling and crying to you — and such a vo-
man, too ! " exclaimed Mr. Mossrose, for his was the voice.

"Such a woman, sir? " cried the senior partner.

"Yes; such a woman — vy didn't she jilt you herself? —
hasn't she been trying the same game with Baroski ; and
are you so green as to give up a hundred and fifty pounds
because she takes a fancy to come vimpering here? I
won't, I can tell you. The money's as much mine as it is
yours, and I'll have it, or keep Walker's body, that's what
I will."

At the presence of his partner, the timid good genius of
Eglantine which had prompted him to mercy and kindness,
at once outspread its frightened wings and flew away.

"You see how it is, Mrs. W.," said he, looking down;
"it's an affair of business — in all these here affairs of busi-
ness Mr. Mossrose is the managing man; ain't you, Mr.
Mossrose? "

"A pretty business it would be if I wasn't," replied
Mossrose, doggedly. "Come, ma'am," says he, "I'll tell
you vat I do : I take fifty per shent ; not a farthing less —
give me that, and out your husband goes."

"Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week."

" Yell, den let him stop at my uncle Bendigo's for a
week, and come out den — he's very comfortable there,"
said Shylock with a grin. "Hadn't you better go to the
shop, Mr. Eglantine," continued he, "and look after your
business ? Mrs. Walker can't want you to listen to her all
day."

Eglantine was glad of the excuse, and slunk out of the
studio, not into the shop but into his parlour ; where he
drank off a great glass of Maraschino ; and sate blushing
and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrose came to tell him
that Mrs. W. was gone, and wouldn't trouble him any

348 MEN'S WIVES.

more. But although he drank several more glasses of
Maraschino, and went to the play that night, and to the
cider-cellars afterwards, neither the liquor, nor the play,
nor the delightful comic songs at the cellars, could drive
Mrs. Walker out of his head, and the memory of old
times, and the image of her pale weeping face.

Morgiana tottered out of the shop, scarcely heeding the
voice of Mr. Mossrose, who said, "I'll take forty per
shent " (and went back to his duty cursing himself for a
soft-hearted fool for giving up so much of his rights to a
puling woman). Morgiana, I say, tottered out of the
shop, and went up Conduit Street, weeping, weeping with
all her eyes. She was quite faint, for she had taken
nothing that morning but the glass of water which the
pastry-cook in the Strand had given her, and was forced
to take hold of the railings of a house for support, just as
a little gentleman with a yellow handkerchief under his
arm was issuing from the door.

"Good heavens, Mrs. Walker!" said the gentleman, it
was no other than Mr. Woolsey, who was going forth to
try a body coat for a customer, "are you ill? — what's the
matter? for God's sake come in!" and he took her arm
under his, and led her into his back-parlour, and seated
her, and had some wine-and-water before her in one minute,
before she had said one single word regarding herself .

As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with the
interruption of a thousand sobs, the poor thing told as well
as she could her little story. Mr. Eglantine had arrested
Mr. Walker : she had been trying to gain time for him,
Eglantine had refused.

"The hard-hearted, cowardly brute to refuse Tier any-
thing!" said loyal Mr. Woolsey. "My dear," says he,
"I've no reason to love your husband, and I know too
much about him to respect him; but I love and respect
you, and will spend my last shilling to serve you." At
which Morgiana could only take his hand and cry a great
deal more than ever. She said Mr. Walker would have a
great deal of money in a week, that he was the best of

MEN'S WIVES 349

husbands, and she was sure Mr. Woolsey would think bet-
ter of him when he knew him; that Mr. Eglantine's bill
was one hundred and fifty pounds, but that Mr. Mossrose
would take forty per cent., if Mr. Woolsey could say how
much that was.

"I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good," said Mr.
Woolsey, bouncing up; "stay here for ten minutes, my
dear, until my return, and all shall be right, as you will
see." He was back in ten minutes, and had called a cab
from the stand opposite (all the coachmen there had seen
and commented on Mrs. Walker's woe-begone looks), and
they were off for Cursitor Street in a moment. "They'll
settle the whole debt for twenty pounds," said he, and
showed an order to that effect from Mr. Mossrose to Mr.
Bendigo's, empowering the latter to release Walker on re-
ceiving Mr. Woolsey' s acknowledgment for the above sum.
# * # # #

"There's no use paying it," said Mr. Walker, doggedly,
" it would only be robbing you, Mr. Woolsey — seven more
detainers have come in while my wife has been away. I
must go through the court now; but," he added in a whis-
per to the tailor, " my good sir, my debts of honour are
sacred, and if you will have the goodness to lend me the
twenty pounds, I pledge you my word as a gentleman to
return it when I come out of quod. "

It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this ; for as
soon as he was gone, Walker, in a tremendous fury, began
cursing his wife for dawdling three hours on the road.
"Why the deuce, ma'am, didn't you take a cab?" roared
he, when he heard she had walked to Bond Street. " Those
writs have only been in half an hour, and I might have
been off but for you. "

"0, Howard," said she, " didn't you take — didn't I give
you my — my last shilling? " and fell back and wept again
more bitterly than ever.

"Well, love," said her amiable husband, turning rather
red; "never mind, it wasn't your fault. It is but going
through the court. It is no great odds. I forgive you."

350 MEN'S WIVES.

CHAPTEE VI.

IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL KEMAINS IN DIFFICUL-
TIES, BUT SHOWS GREAT KESIGNATION UNDER His

MISFORTUNES.

THE exemplary Walker seeing that escape from his ene-
mies was hopeless, and that it was his duty as a man to
turn on them and face them, now determined to quit the
splendid though narrow lodgings which Mr. Bendigo had
provided for him, and undergo the martyrdom of the Fleet.
Accordingly in company with that gentleman, he came
over to her Majesty's prison, and gave himself into the
custody of the officers there ; and did not apply for the ac-
commodation of the rules (by which in those days the cap-
tivity of some debtors was considerably lightened), because
he knew perfectly well that there was no person in the wide
world who would give a security for the heavy sums for
which Walker was answerable. What these sums were is
no matter, and on this head we do not think it at all nec-
essary to satisfy the curiosity of the reader. He may have
owed hundreds — thousands, his creditors only can tell ; he
paid the dividend which has been formerly mentioned, and
showed thereby his desire to satisfy all claims upon him to
the uttermost farthing.

As for the little house in Connaught Square, when, after
quitting her husband, Morgiana drove back thither, the door
was opened by the page, who instantly thanked her to pay
his wages; and in the drawing-room, on a yellow satin
sofa, sat a seedy man (with a pot of porter beside him
placed on an album for fear of staining the rosewood
table), and the seedy man signified that he had taken pos-
session of the furniture in execution for a judgment debt.
Another seedy man was in the dining-room, reading a
newspaper and drinking gin; he informed Mrs. Walker
that he was the representative of another judgment debt

MEN'S WIVES. 351

and of another execution : — " There's another on 'em in the
kitchen," said the page, "taking an inwentory of the fur-
niture ; and he swears he'll have you took up for swindling,
for pawning the plate."

"Sir," said Mr. Woolsey, for that worthy man had con-
ducted Morgiana home, " sir," said he, shaking his stick at
the young page, " if you give any more of your impudence
I'll beat every button off your jacket : " and as there were
some four hundred of these ornaments, the page was silent.
It was a great mercy for Morgiana that the honest and
faithful tailor had accompanied her. The good fellow had
waited very patiently for her for an hour in the parlour or
coffee-room of the lock-up house, knowing full well that
she would want a protector on her way homewards ; and
his kindness will be more appreciated when it is stated that
during the time of his delay in the coffee-room he had been
subject to the entreaties, nay, to the insults of Cornet Fip-
kin of the Blues, who was in prison at the suit of Linsey,
Woolsey, and Co., and who happened to be taking his
breakfast in the apartment when his obdurate creditor en-
tered it. The cornet (a hero of eighteen, who stood at
least five feet three in his boots, and owed fifteen thousand
pounds) was so enraged at the obduracy of his creditor
that he said he would have thrown him out of the window
but for the bars which guarded it ; and entertained ' serious
thoughts of knocking the tailor's head off, but that the lat-
ter, putting his right leg forward and his fists in a proper
attitude, told the young officer to " come on ; " on which
the cornet cursed the tailor for a "snob," and went back to
his breakfast.

The execution people having taken charge of Mr. Walker's
house, Mrs. Walker was driven to take refuge with her
mamma near Sadler's Wells, and the captain remained com-
fortably lodged in the Fleet. He had some ready money,
and with it managed to make his existence exceedingly
comfortable. He lived with the best society of the place,
consisting of several distinguished young noblemen and gen-
tlemen. He spent the morning playing at fives and smok-

352 MEN'S WIVES.

ing cigars ; the evening smoking cigars and dining com-
fortably. Cards came after dinner; and, as the captain
was an experienced player, and near a score of years older
than most of his friends, he was generally pretty success-
ful ; and indeed if he had received all the money that was
owed to him, he might have come out of prison and paid
his creditors twenty shillings in the pound — that is if he
had been minded to do so. But there is no use in examin-
i ing into that point too closely, for the fact is, young Fip-
kin only paid him forty pounds out of seven hundred, for
which he gave him I. 0. U.'s. Algernon Ducease not only
did not pay him three hundred and twenty which he lost
at blind hooky, but actually borrowed seven and sixpence
in money from Walker, which have never been repaid to
this day ; and Lord Doublequits actually lost nineteen thou-
sand pounds to him at heads and tails, which he never
paid, pleading drunkenness and his minority. The reader
may recollect a paragraph which went the round of the pa-
pers entitled, "Affair of Honour in the Fleet Prison. — Yes-
terday morning (behind the pump in the second court) Lord
D-bl-qu-ts and Captain H-w-rd W-lk-r (a near relative,
we understand, of His Grace the Duke of N-rf-lk) had a
hostile meeting and exchanged two shots. These two
young sprigs of nobility were attended to the ground by
Major Flush, who, by the way, is flush no longer, and

Captain Pam, late of the Dragoons. Play is said to

have been the cause of the quarrel, and the gallant captain
is reported to have handled the noble lord's nose rather
roughly at one stage of the transactions." When Morgiana
at Sadler's Wells heard these news, she was ready to faint
with terror; and rushed to the Fleet Prison, and embraced
her lord and master with her usual expansion and fits of
tears, very much to that gentleman's annoyance, who hap-
pened to be in company with Pam and Flush at the time,
and did not care that his handsome wife should be seen too
much in the dubious precincts of the Fleet. He had at
least so much shame about him, and had always rejected
her entreaties to be allowed to inhabit the prison with him.

MEN'S WIVES. 353

"It is enough," would he say, casting his eyes heaven-
ward, and with a most lugubrious countenance — "it is
enough, Morgiana, that 1 should suffer, even though your
thoughtlessness has been the cause of my ruin. But enough
of that ! I will not rebuke you for faults for which I know
you are now repentant ; and I never could bear to see you
in the midst of the miseries of this horrible place. Remain
at home with your mother, and let me drag on the weary
days here alone. If you can get me any more of that pale
sherry, my love, do. I require something to cheer me in
solitude, and have found my chest very much relieved by
that wine. Put more pepper and eggs, my dear, into the
next veal -pie you make me. I can't eat the horrible messes
in the coffee-room here."

It was Walker's wish, I can't tell why, except that it is
the wish of a great number of other persons in this strange
world, to make his wife believe that he was wretched in
mind and ill in health ; and all assertions to this effect the
simple creature received with numberless tears of credulity,
and would go home to Mrs. Crump, and say how her dar-
ling Howard was pining away, how he was ruined for her,
and with what angelic sweetness he bore his captivity*
The fact is, he bore it with so much resignation that no
other person in the world could see that he was unhappy.
His life was undisturbed by duns ; his day was his own
from morning till night ; his diet was good, his acquaint-
ances jovial, his purse tolerably well supplied, and he had
not one single care to annoy him.

Mrs. Crump and Woolsey, perhaps, received Morgiana' s
account of her husband's miseries with some incredulity.
The latter was now a daily visitor to Sadler's Wells. His
love for Morgiana had become a warm, fatherly, generous
regard for her; it was out of the honest fellow's cellar that
the wine used to come which did so much good to Mr.
Walker's chest; and he tried a thousand ways to make
Morgiana happy.

A very happy day, indeed, it was when, returning from
her visit to the Meet, she found in her mother's sitting.

354 MEN'S WIVES.

room her dear grand rosewood piano, and every one of her
music-books, which the kind-hearted tailor had purchased
at the sale of Walker 's effects. And I am not ashamed to
say, that Morgiana herself was so charmed, that when as
usual, Mr. Woolsey came to drink tea in the evening, she
actually gave him a kiss, which frightened Mr. Woolsey,
and made him blush exceedingly. She sat down, and
played him that evening every one of the songs which he
liked — the old songs — none of your Italian stuff. Pod-
more, the old music-master, was there too ; and was de-
lighted and astonished at the progress in singing which
Morgiana had made ; and when the little party separated,
he took Mr. Woolsey by the hand, and said, " Give me
leave to tell you, sir, that you're a trump."

"That he is," said Canterfield, the first tragic; "an hon-
our to human nature. A man whose hand is open as day
to melting charity, and whose heart ever melts at the tale
of woman's distress."

"Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonsense, sir," said the tailor;
but, upon my word, Mr. Canterfield' s words were perfectly
correct. I wish as much could be said in favour of Wool-
sey's old rival, Mr. Eglantine, who attended the sale too,
but it was with a horrid kind of satisfaction at the thought
that Walker was ruined. He bought the yellow satin sofa
before mentioned, and transferred it to what he calls his
"sitting-room," where it is to this day, bearing many marks
of the best beards-grease. Woolsey bid against Baroski for
the piano, very nearly up to the actual value of the instru-
ment, when the artist withdrew from competition; and
when he was sneering at the ruin of Mr. Walker, the tailor
sternly interrupted him by saying, "What the deuce are
you sneering at? You did it, sir; and you're paid every
shilling of your claim, ain't you? " On which Baroski
turned round to Miss Larkins, and said, "Mr. Woolsey
was a ' snop ; ' " the very words, though pronounced some-
what differently, which the gallant Cornet Fipkin had ap-
plied to him.

Well ; so he was a snob. But, vulgar as he was, I de-

MEN'S WIVES. 355

clare, for iny part, that I have a greater respect for Mr.
Woolsey than for any single nobleman or gentleman men-
tioned in this true history.

It will be seen from the names of Messrs, Canterfield and
Podmore that Morgiana was again in the midst of the widow
Crump's favourite theatrical society; and this, indeed,
Was the case. The widow's little room was hung round
with the pictures which were mentioned at the commence-
ment of the story as decorating the bar of the Bootjack;
and several times in a week she received her friends from
the Wells, and entertained them with such humble refresh-
ments of tea and crumpets as her modest means permitted
her to purchase. Among these persons Morgiana lived and
sung quite as contentedly as she had ever done among the
demireps of her husband's society; and, only she did not
dare to own it to herself, was a great deal happier than she
had been for many a day. Mrs. Captain Walker was still
a great lady amongst them. Even in his ruin, Walker, the
director of three companies, and the owner of the splendid
pony-chaise, was to these simple persons an awful charac-
ter ; and when mentioned, they talked with a great deal of
gravity of his being in the country, and hoped Mrs. Cap-
tain W. had good news of him. They all knew he was in
the Fleet ; but had he not in prison fought a duel with a
viscount? Montmorency (of the Norfolk circuit) was in
the Fleet too ; and when Canterfield went to see poor Mon-
tey, the latter had pointed out Walker to his friend, who
actually hit Lord George Tennison across the shoulders in
play with a racket-bat ; which event was soon made known
to the whole green-room.

"They had me up one day," said Montmorency, "to sing
a comic song, and give my recitations ; and we had cham-
pagne and lobster-salad ; such nobs ! n added the player.
"Billingsgate and Vauxhall were there too, and left college
at eight o'clock."

When Morgiana was told of the circumstance by her
mother, she hoped her dear Howard had enjoyed the even-
ing, and was thankful that for once he could forget his

356 MEN'S WIVES.

sorrows. Nor, somehow, was she ashamed of herself for
being happy afterwards, but gave way to her natural good
humour without repentance or self -rebuke. I believe, in-
deed (alas ! why are we made acquainted with the same
fact regarding ourselves long after it is past and gone?) — •
I believe these were the happiest days of Morgiana's whole
life. She had no cares except the pleasant one of attend-
ing on her husband, an easy, smiling temperament which
made her regardless of to-morrow ; and add to this a de-
lightful hope relative to a certain interesting event which
was about to occur, and which I shall not particularise
further than by saying, that she was cautioned against too
much singing by Mr. Squills, her medical attendant ; and
that widow Crump was busy making-up a vast number of
little caps and diminutive cambric shirts, such as delighted
grandmothers are in the habit of fashioning. I hope this is
as genteel a way of signifying the circumstance which was
about to take place in the Walker family as Miss Prim her-
self could desire. Mrs. Walker's mother was about to be-
come a grandmother. There' s a phrase ! The Morning Post,
which says this story is vulgar, I'm sure cannot quarrel
with that. I don't believe the whole " Court Guide " would
convey an intimation more delicately.

Well, Mrs. Crump's little grandchild was born, entirely
to the dissatisfaction, I must say, of his father ; who, when
the infant was brought to him in the Fleet, had him abruptly
covered up in his cloak again, from which he had been re-
moved by the jealous prison door-keepers; why, do you
think? Walker had a quarrel with one of them, and the
wretch persisted in believing that the bundle Mrs. Crump
was bringing to her son-in-law was a bundle of disguised
brandy !

"The brutes! " said the lady; "and the father's a brute,
too," said she. "He takes no more notice of me than if I
was a kitchen-maid, and of Woolsey than if he was a leg
of mutton — the dear, blessed little cherub ! "

Mrs. Crump was a mother-in-law; let us pardon her ha-
tred of her daughter's husband.

MEN'S WIVES. 357

The Woolsey compared in the above sentence both to a
leg of mutton and a cherub, was not the eminent member
of the firm of Linsey, Woolsey, and Co., but the little baby,
who was christened Howard Woolsey Walker, with the full
consent of the father, who said the tailor was a deuced
good fellow, and felt really obliged to him for the sherry,
for a frock-coat which he let him have in prison, and for
his kindness to Morgiana. The tailor loved the little boy
with all his soul ; he attended his mother to her churching,
and the child to the font; and, as a present to his little
godson on his christening, he sent two yards of the finest
white kerseymere in his shop to make him a cloak. The
duke had had a pair of inexpressibles off that very piece.

House-furniture is bought and sold, music-lessons are
given, children are born and christened, ladies are confined
and churched — time, in other wor.ds, passes, — and yet Cap-
tain Walker still remains in prison4! Does it not seem
strange that he should still languish there between pali-
saded walls near Fleet Market, and that he should not be
restored to that active and fashionable world of which he
was an ornament? The fact is, the captain had been be-
fore the court for the examination of his debts ; and the
commissioners, with a cruelty quite shameful towards a
fallen man, had qualified his ways of getting money in
most severe language, and had sent him back to prison
again for the space of nine calendar months, an indefinite
period, and until his accounts could be made up. This de-
lay Walker bore like a philosopher, and, far from repining,
was still the gayest fellow of the tennis-court, and the soul
of the midnight carouse.

There is no use in raking up old stories, and hunting
through files of dead newspapers, to know what were the
specific acts which made the commissioner so angry with
Captain Walker. Many a rogue has come before the court,
and passed through it since then : and I would lay a wager
that Howard Walker was not a bit worse than his neigh-
bours. But as he was not a lord, and as he had no friends
on coming out of prison, and had settled no money on his

358 MEN'S WIVES.

wife, and had, as it must be confessed, an exceedingly bad
character, it is not likely that the latter would be forgiven
him when once more free in the world. For instance, when
Doublequits left the Fleet, he was received with open arms
by his family and had two-and-thirty horses in his stables
before a week was over. Pain, of the Dragoons, came out,
and instantly got a place as government courier, — a place
found so good of late years (and no wonder, it is better pay
than that of a colonel), that our noblemen and gentry
eagerly press for it. Frank Hurricane was sent out as
registrar of Tobago, or Sago, or Ticonderago ; in fact, for a
younger son of good family it is rather advantageous to get
into debt twenty or thirty thousand pounds ; you are sure
of a good place afterwards in the colonies. Your friends
are so anxious to get rid of you, that they will move heaven
and earth to serve you. And so all the above companions
of misfortune with Walker were speedily made comfortable ;
but he had no rich parents ; his old father was dead in
York jail. How was he to start in the world again? What
friendly hand was there to fill his pocket with gold, and
his cup with sparkling champagne? He was, in fact, an
object of the greatest pity, — for I know of no greater than
a gentleman of his habits without the means of gratifying
them. He must live well, and he has not the means. Is
there a more pathetic case? As for a mere low beggar —
some labourless labourer, or some weaver out of place —
don't let us throw away our compassion upon tliem. Psha!
they're accustomed to starve. They can sleep upon boards,
or dine off a crust ; whereas a gentleman would die in the
same situation. I think this was poor Morgiana's way of
reasoning.

For Walker's cash in prison beginning presently to run
low, and knowing quite well that the dear fellow could not
exist there without the luxuries to which he had been ac-
customed, she borrowed money from her mother, until the
poor old lady was a sec. She even confessed, with tears,
to Woolsey, that she was in particular want of twenty
pounds, to pay a poor milliner, whose debt she could not

MEN'S WIVES. 359

bear to put in her husband's schedule. And I need not
say she carried the money to her husband, who might have
been greatly benefited by it, — only he had a bad run of luck
at the cards ; and how the deuce can a man help that ?

Woolsey had repurchased for her one of the Cashmere
shawls. She left it behind her one day at the Fleet prison,
and some rascal stole it there, having the grace, however,
to send Woolsey the ticket, signifying the place where it
had been pawned. Who could the scoundrel have been?
Woolsey swore a great oath, and fancied he knew ; but if
it was Walker himself (as Woolsey fancied, and probably
as was the case) who made away with the shawl, being
pressed thereto by necessity, was it fair to call him a scoun-
drel for so doing, and should we not rather laud the deli-
cacy of his proceeding? He was poor ; who can command
the cards? but he did not wish his wife should know how
poor ; he could not bear that she should suppose him arrived
at the necessity of pawning a shawl.

She who had such beautiful ringlets of a sudden pleaded
cold in the head, took to wearing caps. One summer even-
ing, as she and the baby and Mrs. Crump and Woolsey (let
us say all four babies together) were laughing and playing
in Mrs. Crump's drawing-room — playing the most absurd
gambols, fat Mrs. Crump, for instance, hiding behind the
sofa, Woolsey chuck- chucking, cock-a-doodle-doing, and
performing those indescribable freaks which gentlemen with
philoprogenitive organs will execute in the company of chil-
dren, in the midst of their play the baby gave a tug at his
mother's cap ; off it came — her hair was cut close to her head !

Morgiana turned as red as sealing-wax, and trembled
very much ; Mrs. Crump screamed, " My child, where is
your hair? " and Woolsey bursting out with a most tremen-
dous oath against Walker that would send Miss Prim into
convulsions, put his handkerchief to his face, and actually
wept. " The infernal bubble-ubble-ackguard ! " said he,
roaring and clenching his fists.

As he had passed the Bower of Bloom a few days before,
he saw Mossrose, who was combing out a jet-black ringlet,

16 Vol. 13

360 MEN'S WIYES.

and held it up as if for Woolsey' s examination, with a
peculiar grin. The tailor did not understand the joke, but
he saw now what had happened. Morgiana had sold her
hair for five guineas ; she would have sold her arm had her
husband bidden her. On looking in her drawers it was
found she had sold almost all her wearing apparel ; the
child's clothes were all there, however. It was because
her husband talked of disposing of a gilt coral that the
child had, that she had parted with the locks which had
formed her pride.

"I'll give you twenty guineas for that hair, you infa-
mous fat coward," roared the little tailor to Eglantine that
evening. " Give it up, or I'll kill you — me "

" Mr. Mossrose ! Mr. Mossrose ! " shouted the perfumer.

"Veil, vatsh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, my
boys; two to one on the tailor," said Mr. Mossrose, much
enjoying the sport (for Woolsey, striding through the shop
without speaking to him, had rushed into the studio, where
he plumped upon Eglantine).

"Tell him about that hair, sir."

"That hair! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister Timble,
and don't tink for to bully me. You mean Mrs. Valker's
'air? Vy, she sold it me."

" And the more blackguard you for buying it ! Will you
take twenty guineas for it? "

"No," said Mossrose.

"Twenty -five?"

"Can't," said Mossrose.

" Hang it ; will you take forty? There."

"I vish I'd kep it," said the Hebrew gentleman, with
unfeigned regret. "Eglantine dressed it this very night."

"For Countess Baldenstiern, the Swedish Hambassador's
lady," says Eglantine (his Hebrew partner was by no means
a favourite with the ladies, and only superintended the
accounts of the concern). " It's this very night at Devon-
shire 'Ouse, with four hostrich plumes, lappets, and trim-
mings. And now, Mr. Woolsey, I'll trouble you to apolo-
gise."

MEN'S WIVES. 3d

Mr. Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to Mr. Eg-
lantine and snapped his fingers so close under the perfum-
er's nose that the latter started back and seized the bell-
rope. Mossrose burst out laughing, and the tailor walked
majestically from the shop, with both hands stuck between
the lappets of his coat.

"My dear," said he to Morgiana a short time afterwards,
" you must not encourage that husband of yours in his ex-
travagance, and sell the clothes off your poor back, that he
may feast and act the fine gentleman in prison."

"It is his health, poor dear soul!" interposed Mrs.
Walker, " his chest. Every farthing of the money goes to
the doctors, poor fellow ! "

" Well, now listen : I am a rich man (it was a great fib,
for Woolsey 's income, as a junior partner of the firm, was
but a small one) ; I can very well afford to make him an
allowance while he is in the Fleet, and have written to him
to say so. But if you ever give him a penny, or sell a trin-
ket belonging to you, upon my word and honour I will
withdraw the allowance, and, though it would go to my
heart, Fll never see you again. You wouldn't make me
unhappy, would you? "

"Fdgo on my knees to serve you, and Heaven bless
you," said the wife.

" Well, then, you must give me this promise." And she
did. "And now," said he, "your mother, and Podmore,
and I, have been talking over matters, and we've agreed
that you may make a very good income for yourself, though,
to be sure, I wish it could have been managed any other
way; but needs must, you know. You're the finest singer
in the universe."

" La ! " said Morgiana, highly delighted.

"/never heard anything like you, though I'm no judge.
Podrnore says he is sure you will do very well, and has no
doubt you might get very good engagements at concerts or
on the stage ; and as that husband will never do any good,
and you have a child to support, sing you must."

" Oh ! how glad I should be to pay his debts and repay

362 MEN'S WIVES.

all he has done for me," cried Mrs. Walker. "Think of
his giving two hundred guineas to Mr. Baroski to have me
taught. Was not that kind of him? Do you really think
I should succeed? "

"There's Miss Larkins has succeeded."

" The little, high-shouldered, vulgar thing ! " says Mor-
giana. "I'm sure I ought to succeed if she did."

" She sing against Morgiana? " said Mrs. Crump. "I'd
like to see her, indeed! She ain't fit to snuff a candle to
tor."

"I dare say not," said the tailor, "though I don't un-
derstand the thing myself; but if Morgiana can make a
fortune, why shouldn't she? "

"Heaven knows we want it, Woolsey," cried Mrs.
Crump. " And to see her on the stage was always the
wish of my heart; " and so it had formerly been the wish
of Morgiana, and now, with the hope of helping her hus-
band and child, the wish became a duty, and she fell to
practising once more from morning till night.

One of the most generous of men and tailors who ever
lived now promised, if further instruction should be con-
sidered necessary (though that he could hardly believe pos-
sible), that he would lend Morgiana any sum required for
the payment of lessons ; and accordingly she once more be-
took herself, under Podmore's advice, to the singing school.
Baroski' s academy was, after the passages between them,
out of the question, and she placed herself under the in-
struction of the excellent English composer Sir George
Thrum, whose large and awful wife, Lady Thrum, dragon
of virtue and propriety, kept watch over the master and
the pupils, and was the sternest guardian of female virtue
on or off any stage.

Morgiana came at a propitious moment. Baroski had
launched Miss Larkins under the name of Ligonier. The
Ligonier was enjoying considerable success, and was sing-
ing classical music to tolerable audiences, whereas Miss
Butts, Sir George's last pupil, had turned out a complete
failure, and the rival house was only able to make a faint

MEN'S WIVES. 363

opposition to the new star with Miss M'Whirter, who,
though an old favourite, had lost her upper notes and her
front teeth, and, the fact was, drew no longer.

Directly Sir George heard Mrs. Walker he tapped Pod-
more, who accompanied her, on the waistcoat, and said,
" Poddy, thank you ; we'll cut the orange boy's throat with
that voice." It was by the familiar title of orange-boy
that the great Baroski was known among his opponents.

"We'll crush him, Podinore," said Lady Thrum, in her
deep hollow voice. " You may stop and dine." And Pod-
more stayed to dinner, and ate cold mutton, and drank
Marsala with the greatest reverence for the great English
composer. The very next day Lady Thrum hired a pair
of horses, and paid a visit to Mrs. Crump and her daughter
at Sadler's Wells.

All these things were kept profoundly secret from Walk-
er, who received very magnanimously the allowance of
two guineas a-week which Woolsey made him, and with
the aid of the few shillings his wife could bring him, man-
aged to exist as best he might. He did not dislike gin
when he could get no claret, and the former liquor, under
the name of " tape " used to be measured out pretty liber-
ally in what was formerly her Majesty's prison of the Fleet.

Morgiana pursued her studies under Thrum, and we shall
hear in the next chapter how it was she changed her name
to KAVENSWING.

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHICH MORGIANA ADVANCES TOWARDS FAME AND
HONOUR, AND IN WHICH SEVERAL GREAT LITERARY
CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE.

"WE must begin, my dear madam," said Sir George
Thrum, " by unlearning all that Mr. Baroski (of whom I
do not wish to speak with the slightest disrespect) has
taught you ! "

364 MEN'S WIVES.

Morgiana knew that every professor says as much, and
submitted to undergo the study requisite for Sir George's
system with perfect good grace. Au fond, as I was given
to understand, the methods of the two artists were pretty
similar ; but as there was rivalry between them, and con-
tinual desertion of scholars from one school to another, it
was fair for each to take all the credit he could get in the
success of any pupil. If a pupil failed, for instance,
Thrum would say Baroski had spoiled her irretrievably;
while the German would regret " Dat dat yong voman, who
had a good organ, should have trown away her dime wid
dat old Drum." When one of these deserters succeeded,
" Yes, yes," would either professor cry, " I formed her,
she owes her fortune to me." Both of them thus, in future
days, claimed the education of the famous Kavenswing;
and even Sir George Thrum, though he wished to ecraser the
Ligonier, pretended that her present success was his work,
because once she had been brought by her mother, Mrs.
Larkins, to sing for Sir George's approval.

When the two professors met it was with the most de-
lighted cordiality on the part of both. " Mein Lieber
Herr" Thrum would say (with some malice), "your sonata
in x flat is divine." "Chevalier," Baroski would reply,
" Dat andante movement in w is worthy of Beethoven. I
gif you my sacred honour," and so forth. In fact, they
loved each other, as gentlemen in their profession always
do.

The two famous professors conduct their academies on
very opposite principles. Baroski writes ballet music;
Thrum, on the contrary, says " he cannot but deplore the
dangerous fascinations of the dance," and writes more for
Exeter Hall and Birmingham. While Baroski drives a cab
in the park with a very suspicious Mademoiselle Leocaclie,
or Ame'naide, by his side, you may see Thrum walking to
evening church with his lady, and hymns are sung there of
his own composition. He belongs to the Athenaeum Club,
he goes to the levee once a-year, he does everything that a
respectable man should, and if, by the means of this re-

MEN'S WIVES.

365

spectability, lie manages to make his little trade far more
profitable than it otherwise would be, are we to quarrel
with him for it?

Sir George, in fact, had every reason to be respectable.
He had been a choir-boy at Windsor, had played to the old
king's violoncello, had been intimate with him, and had
received knighthood at the hand of his revered sovereign.
He had a snuff-box which his majesty gave him, and por-
traits of him and the young princes all over the house.
He had also a foreign order (no other, indeed, than the
Elephant and Castle of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel), con-
ferred upon him by the Grand Duke when here with the
allied sovereigns in 1814. With this riband round his
neck, on gala days, and in a white waistcoat, the old gen-
tleman looked splendid as he moved along in a Windsor
button, and neat black small-clothes, and silk stockings.
He lived in an old, tall, dingy house, furnished in the reign
of George III., his beloved master, and not much more
cheerful now than a family vault. They are awfully fu-
nereal those ornaments of the close of the last century, —
tall, gloomy, horse-hair chairs, mouldy Turkey carpets, with
wretched druggets to guard them, little cracked sticking-
plaster miniatures of people in tours and pig-tails over high-
shouldered mantel-pieces, two dismal urns on each side of
a lanky side-board, and in the midst a queer twisted recep-
tacle for worn-out knives with green handles. Under the
side-board stands a cellaret that looks as if it held half a
bottle of currant wine, and a shivering plate-warmer that
never could get any comfort out of the wretched old
cramped grate yonder. Don't you know in such houses the
gray gloom that hangs over the stairs, the dull-coloured
old carpet that winds its way up the same, growing thinner,
duller, and more threadbare, as it mounts to the bed-room
floors? There is something awful in the bed-room of a re-
spectable old couple of sixty-five. Think of the old feath-
ers, turbans, bugles, petticoats, pomatum-pots, spencers,
white satin shoes, false fronts, the old flaccid, boneless
stays tied up in faded riband, the dusky fans, the old forty

366 MEN'S WIVES.

years old baby-linen, letters of Sir George when he was
young, poor Maria's doll, who died in 1803, Frederick's
first corduroy breeches, and the newspaper which contains
the account of his distinguishing himself at the siege of
Seringapatam. All these lie somewhere damp and squeezed
down into glum old presses and wardrobes. At that glass
the wife has sat many times these fifty years ; in that old
morocco bed her children were born. Where are they now?
Fred, the brave captain, and Charles, the saucy colleger ;
there hangs a drawing of him done by Mr. Beechy, and
that sketch by Cosway was the very likeness of Louisa
before * * *

" Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! for Heaven's sake come down. What
are you doing in a lady's bed-room? "

"The fact is, madam, I had no business there in life,
but, having had quite enough wine with Sir George, my
thoughts had wandered upstairs into the sanctuary of
female excellence, where your ladyship nightly reposes.
You do not sleep so well now as in old days, though there
is no patter of little steps to wake you overhead."

They call that room the nursery still, and the little
wicket still hangs at the upper stairs : it has been there for
forty years — bon Dieu! Can't you see the ghosts of little
faces peering over it? I wonder whether they get up in
the night as the moonlight shines into the blank, vacant
old room, and play there solemnly with little ghostly
horses, and the spirits of dolls, and tops that turn and turn,
but don't hum.

Once more, sir, come down to the lower story — that is,
to the Morgiana story — with which the above sentences
have no more to do than this morning's leading article in
the Times ; only it was at this house of Sir George Thrum's
that I met Morgiana. Sir George, in old days, had in-
structed some of the female members of our family, and I
recollect cutting my fingers as a child with one of these at-
tenuated green-handled knives in the queer box yonder.

In those days Sir George Thrum was the first great musi-
cal teacher of London, and the royal patronage brought

MEN'S WIVES. 367

him a great number of fashionable pupils, of whom Lady
Fitz-Boodle was one. It was a long, long time ago; in
fact, Sir George Thrum was old enough to remember per-
sons who had been present at Mr. Braham's first appear-
ance, and the old gentleman's days of triumph had been
those of Billington and Incledon, Catalani and Madame
Storace.

He was the author of several operas ("The Camel
Driver," " Britons Alarmed ; or, the Siege of Bergen-op-
Zoonij" &c. &c.), and, of course, of songs which had con-
siderable success in their day, but are forgotten now, and
are as much faded and out of fashion as those old carpets
which we have described in the professor's house, and
which were, doubtless, very brilliant once. But such is the
fate of carpets, of 9 flowers, of music, of men, and of the
most admirable novels — even this story will not be alive for
many centuries. Well, well, why struggle against Fate?

•But, though his hey-day of fashion was gone, Sir George
still held his place among the musicians of the old school,
conducted occasionally at the Ancient Concerts and the
Philharmonic, and his glees are still favourites after public
dinners, and are sung by those old bacchanalians, in chest-
nut wigs, who attend for the purposes of amusing the
guests on such- occasions of festivity. The great old peo-
ple at the gloomy old concerts before mentioned always pay
Sir George marked respect ; and, indeed, from the old gen-
tleman's peculiar behaviour to his superiors it is impossible
they should not be delighted with him, so he leads at al-
most every one of the concerts in the old-fashioned houses
in town.

Becomingly obsequious to his superiors, he is with the
rest of the world properly majestic, and has obtained no
small success by his admirable and undeviating respecta-
bility. Respectability has been his great card through life ;
ladies can trust their daughters at Sir George Thrum's
academy. "A good musician, madam," says he to the
mother of a new pupil, " should not only have a fine ear, a
good voice, and an indomitable industry, but, above all, a

368

MEN'S WIVES.

faultless character — faultless, that is, as far as our poor
nature will permit. And you will remark that those young
persons with whom your lovely daughter, Miss Smith, will
pursue her musical studies, are all, in a moral point of
view, as spotless as that charming young lady. How
should it be otherwise? I have been myself the father of
a family ; I have been honoured with the intimacy of the
wisest and best of kings, my late sovereign George III.,
and I can proudly show an example of decorum to my pu-
pils in my Sophia. Mrs. Smith, I have the honour of in-
troducing to you my Lady Thrum."

The old lady would rise at this, and make a gigantic
curtsey, such a one as had begun the minuet at Kanelagh
fifty years ago, and, the introduction ended, Mrs. Smith
would retire, after having seen the portraits of the princes,
his late majesty's snuff-box, and a piece of music which he
used to play, noted by himself — Mrs. Smith, I say, would
drive back to Baker Street delighted to think that her
Frederica had secured so eligible and respectable a master.
I forgot to say that, during the interview between Mrs.
Smith and Sir George, the latter would be called out of his
study by his black servant, and my Lady Thrum would
take that opportunity of mentioning when he was knighted,
and how he got his foreign order, and deploring the sad con-
dition of other musical professors, and the dreadful immo-
rality which sometimes arose in consequence of their lax-
ness. Sir George was a good deal engaged to dinners in
the season, and if invited to dine with a nobleman, as he
might possibly be on the day when Mrs. Smith requested
the honour of his company, he would write back " that he
should have had the sincerest happiness in waiting upon
Mrs. Smith in Baker Street, if, previously, my Lord Twee-
dledale had not been so kind as to engage him." This let-
ter, of course, shown by Mrs. Smith to her friends, was
received by them with proper respect ; and thus, in spite
of age and new fashions, Sir George still reigned pre-emi-
nent for a mile round Cavendish Square. By the young
pupils of the academy he was called Sir Charles Grandison,

MEN'S WIVES.

369

and, indeed, fully deserved this title on account of the in-
domitable respectability of his whole actions.

It was under this gentleman that Morgiana made her
debut in public life. I do not know what arrangements
may have been made between Sir George Thrum and his
pupil regarding the profits which were to accrue to the for-
mer from engagements procured by him for the latter ; but
.there was, no doubt, an understanding between them. For
Sir George, respectable as he was, had the reputation of
being extremely clever at a bargain j and Lady Thrum her-
self, in her great high-tragedy way, could purchase a pair
of soles or select a leg of mutton with the best housekeeper
in London.

When, however, Morgiana had been for some six months
under his tuition, he began for some reason or other to be
exceedingly hospitable, and invited his friends to numerous
entertainments, at one of which, as I have said, I had the
pleasure of meeting Mrs. Walker.

Although the worthy musician's dinners were not good,
the old knight had some excellent wine in his cellar, and
his arrangement of his party deserves to be commended.

For instance, he meets me and Bob Fitz-Urse in Pall
Mall, at whose paternal house he was also a visitor. " My
dear young gentlemen," says he, "will you come and dine
with a poor musical composer? I have some comet-hock,
and, what is more curious to you perhaps, as men of wit,
one or two of the great literary characters of London whom
you would like to see— quite curiosities, my dear young
friends." And we agreed to go.

To the literary men he says, " I have a little quiet party
at home, Lord Eoundtowers, the Honourable Mr. Fitz-
Urse of the Life Guards, and a few more. Can you tear
yourself away from the war of wits, and take a quiet din-
ner with a few mere men about town? n

The literary men instantly purchase new satin stocks and
white gloves, and are delighted to fancy themselves mem-
bers of the world of fashion. Instead of inviting twelve
Royal Academicians, or a dozen authors, or a dozen men of

370

MEN'S WIVES.

science to dinner, as his Grace the Duke of , and the

Eight Honourable Sir Robert , are in the habit of do-
ing once a year, this plan of fusion is the one they should
adopt. Not invite all artists, as they would invite all
farmers to a rent-dinner ; but they should have a proper
commingling of artists and men of the world. There is
one of the latter whose name is George Savage Fitz-Boodle,
who But let us return to Sir George Thrum.

Fitz-Urse and I arrive at the dismal old house, and are
conducted up the staircase by a black servant, who shouts
out, "Missa Fiss-Boodle — the Honourable Missa Fiss-
Urse ! " It was evident that Lady Thrum had instructed the
swarthy groom of the chambers (for there is nothing particu-
larly honourable in my friend Fitz's face that I know of,
unless an abominable squint may be said to be so). Lady
Thrum, whose figure is something like that of the shot-
tower opposite Waterloo Bridge, makes a majestic inclina-
tion and a speech to signify her pleasure at receiving under
her roof two of the children of Sir George's best pupils.
A lady in black velvet is seated by the old fireplace, with
whom a stout gentleman in an exceedingly light coat and
ornamental waistcoat is talking very busily. " The great
star of the night," whispers our host. "Mrs. Walker, gen-
tlemen— the Ravenswing ! She is talking to the famous
Mr. Slang, of the theatre."

"Is she a fine singer?" says Fitz-Urse. "She's a very
fine woman."

" My dear young friends, you shall hear to-night ! I,
who have heard every fine voice in Europe, confidently
pledge my respectability that the Kavenswing is equal to
them all. She has the graces, sir, of a Venus, with the
mind of a muse. She is a syren, sir, without the danger-
ous qualities of one. She is hallowed, sir, by her misfor-
tunes as by her genius j and I am proud to think that my
instructions have been the means of developing the won-
drous qualities that were latent within her until now."

" You don't say so! " says gobernouche Fitz-Urse.

Having thus indoctrinated Mr. Fitz-Urse, Sir George

MEN'S WIVES. 371

takes another of his guests, and proceeds to work upon
him, "My dear Mr. Bludyer, how do you do? Mr. Fitz-
Boodle, Mr. Bludyer, the brilliant and accomplished wit,
whose sallies in the Tomahawk delight us every Satur-
day. Nay, no blushes, my dear sir ; you are very wicked,
but oh ! so pleasant. Well, Mr. Bludyer, I am glad to see
you, sir, and hope you will have a favourable opinion of
our genius, sir. As I was saying to Mr. Fitz-Boodle, she
has the graces of a Venus with the mind of a muse. She
is a syren, without the dangerous qualities of one," &c.
This little speech was made to half-a-dozen persons in the
course of the evening — persons, for the most part, con-
nected with the public journals or the theatrical world.
There was Mr. Squinny, the editor of the Flowers of
Fashion, Mr. Desmond Mulligan, the poet, and reporter
for a morning paper ; and other worthies of their calling.
For though Sir George is a respectable man, and as high-
minded and moral an old gentleman as ever wore knee-
buckles, he does not neglect the little arts of popularity, and
can condescend to receive very queer company if need be.

For instance, at the dinner party at which I had the
honour of assisting, and at which on the right hand of
Lady Thrum sat the oblige nobleman, whom the Thrums
were a great deal too wise to omit (the sight of a lord does
good to us commoners, or why else should we be so anx-
ious to have one?). In the second place of honour, and on
her ladyship's left hand, sat Mr. Slang, the manager of
one of the theatres, a gentleman whom my Lady Thrum
would scarcely, but for a great necessity's sake, have been
induced to invite to her table. He had the honour of lead-
ing Mrs. Walker to dinner, who looked splendid in black
velvet and turban, full of health and smiles.

Lord Eoundtowers is an old gentleman who has been at
the theatres five times a week for these fifty years, a liv-
ing dictionary of the stage, recollecting every actor and ac-
tress who has appeared upon it for half a century. He
perfectly well remembered Miss Delancy in Morgiana; he
knew what had become of Ali Baba, and how Cassim had

372 MEN'S WIVES.

left the stage, and was now the keeper of a public-house.
All this store of knowledge he kept quietly to himself, or
only delivered in confidence to his next neighbour in the
intervals of the banquet, which he enjoys prodigiously.
He lives at an hotel : if not invited to dine, eats a mutton-
chop very humbly at his club, and finishes his evening after
the play at Crockford's, whither he goes not for the sake
of the play but of the supper there. He is described in
the "Court Guide" as of Simmer's Hotel, and of Eound-
towers, County Cork. It is said that the round towers
really exist. But he has not been in Ireland since the re-
bellion; and his property is so hampered with ancestral
mortgages, and rent-charges, and annuities, that his income
is barely sufficient to provide the modest mutton-chop be-
fore alluded to. He has, any time these fifty years, lived
in the wickedest company in London, and is, withal, as
harmless, mild, good-natured, innocent an old gentleman,
as can readily be seen.

"Roundy," shouts the elegant Mr. Slang, across the
table, with a voice which makes Lady Thrum shudder,
"Tuff, a glass of wine."

My lord replies meekly, " Mr. Slang, I shall have very
much pleasure. What shall it be? "

" There is Madeira near you, my lord," says my lady,
pointing to a tall thin decanter of the fashion of the year.

"Madeira! Marsala, by Jove, your ladyship means?"
shouts Mr. Slang. " No, no, old birds are not caught with
chaff. Thrum, old boy, let's have some of your comet-
hock."

"My Lady Thrum, I believe that is Marsala," says the
knight, blushing a little, in reply to a question from his
Sophia. " Ajax, the hock to Mr. Slang."

"I'm in that," yells Bludyer from the end of the table.
"My lord, I'll join you."

" Mr. , I beg your pardon — I shall be very happy to

take wine with, you, sir."

" It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper writer,"
whispers Lady Thrum.

MEN'S WIVES. 373

" Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare say.
He has a very load voice, and reminds me of Brett. Does
your ladyship remember Brett, who played the 'Fathers'
at the Haymarket in 1802? "

" What an old stupid Koundtowers is ! " says Slang,
archly, nudging Mrs. Walker in the side. "How's Walk-
er, eh? "

" My husband is in the country," replied Mrs. Walker,
hesitatingly.

" Gammon ! / know where he is ! Law bless you ! —
don't blush. I've been there myself a dozen times. We
were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. Were you ever in
college? "

" I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, when
the sovereigns were there, and at Cambridge when Sir
George received his degree of Doctor of Music. "

"Laud, Laud, that's not the college we mean."

" There is also the college in Gower Street, where my
grandson "

"This is the college in Queer Street, ma'am, haw, haw!
Mulligan, you divvle (in an Irish accent), a glass of wine
with you. Wine, here, you waiter! What's your name,
you black niggar? 'Possom up a gum-tree, eh? Fill him
up. Dere he go" (imitating the Mandingo manner of
speaking English).

In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, speed-
ily making himself the centre of the conversation, and
addressing graceful familiarities to all the gentlemen and
ladies round him.

It was good to see how the little knight, the most moral
and calm of men, was compelled to receive Mr. Slang's
stories, and the frightened air with which at the conclusion
of one of them, he would venture upon a commendatory
grin. His lady, on her part too, had been laboriously
civil ; and, on the occasion on which I had the honour of
meeting this gentleman and Mrs. Walker, it was the latter
who gave the signal for the withdrawing to the lady of the
house, by saying, " I think, Lady Thrum, it is quite time

374 MEN'S WIVES.

for us to retire." Some exquisite joke of Mr. Slang's was
the cause of this abrupt disappearance. But, as they went
upstairs to the drawing-room, Lady Thrum took occasion
to say, " My dear, in the course of your profession you will
have to submit to many such familiarities on the part of
persons of low breeding, such as I fear Mr. Slang is. But
let me caution you against giving way to your temper as
you did. Did you not perceive that J never allowed him
to see my inward dissatisfaction? And I make it a par-
ticular point that you should be very civil to him to-night.
Your interests — our interests — depend upon it."

" And are my interests to make me civil to a wretch like
that? "

" Mrs. Walker, would you wish to give lessons in mo-
rality and behaviour to Lady Thrum? " said the old lady,
drawing herself up with great dignity. It was evident
that she had a very strong desire indeed to conciliate Mr.
Slang ; and hence I have no doubt that Sir George was to
have a considerable share of Morgiana's earnings.

Mr. Bludyer, the famous editor of the Tomahawk whose
jokes Sir George pretended to admire so much (Sir George
who never made a joke in his life), was a press bravo of
considerable talent and no principle, and who, to use his
own words, would " back himself for a slashing article
against any man in England ! " He would not only write,
but fight on a pinch, was a good scholar, and as savage
in his manner as with his pen. Mr. Squinny is of ex-
actly the opposite school, as delicate as milk and water,
harmless in his habits, fond of the flute when the state of
his chest would allow him, a great practiser of waltzing
and dancing in general, and in his journal mildly mali-
cious. He never goes beyond the bounds of politeness, but
manages to insinuate a great deal that is disagreeable to an
author in the course of twenty lines of criticism. Person-
ally he is quite respectable, and lives with two maiden
aunts at Brompton. Nobody, on the contrary, knows
where Mr. Bludyer lives. He has houses of call, mysteri-
ous taverns where he may be found at particular hours by

MEN'S WIVES. 375

those who need him, and where panting publishers are in
the habit of hunting him up. For a bottle of wine and a
guinea he will write a page of praise or abuse of any man
living, or on any subject or on any line of politics. " Hang
it, sir," says he, " pay me enough and I will write down
my own father ! " According to the state of his credit he
is dressed either almost in rags, or else in the extrernest
flush of fashion. With the latter attire he puts on a
haughty and aristocratic air, and would slap a duke on the
shoulder. If there is one thing more dangerous than to
refuse to lend him a sum of money when he asks for it, it
is to lend it to him, for he never pays, and never pardons
a man to whom he owes. " Walker refused to cash a bill
for me," he had been heard to say, "and Til do for his
wife when she comes out on the stage ! " Mrs. Walker and
Sir George Thrum were in an agony about the Tomahawk,
hence the latter* s invitation to Mr. Bludyer. Sir George
was in a great tremor about the Flowers of Fashion, hence
his invitation to Mr. Squinny. Mr. Squinny was intro-
duced to Lord Eoundtowers and Mr. Fitz-Urse as one of
the most delightful and talented of our young men of
genius; and Fitz, who believes everything any one tells
him, was quite pleased to have the honour of sitting near
the live editor of a paper. I have reason to think that Mr.
Squinny himself was no less delighted. I saw him giving
his card to Fitz-Urse at the end of the second course.

No particular attention was paid to Mr. Desmond Mulli-
gan. Political enthusiasm is his forte. He lives and
writes in a rapture. He is, of course, a member of an inn
of court, and greatly addicted to after-dinner speaking as
a preparation for the bar, where as a young man of genius
he hopes one day to shine. He is almost the only man to
whom Bludyer is civil, for, if the latter will fight doggedly
when there is a necessity for so doing, the former fights
like an Irishman, and has a pleasure in it. He has been
" on the ground " I don't know how many times, and quitted
his country on account of a quarrel with government re-
garding certain articles published by him in the Phoenix

376 MEN'S WIVES.

newspaper. With the third bottle, he becomes overpower-
ingly great on the wrongs of Ireland, and at that period
generally volunteers a couple or more of Irish melodies,
selecting the most melancholy in the collection. At five
in the afternoon, you are sure to see him about the House
of Commons, and he knows the Keform Club (he calls it
the Eefawrum) as well as if he were a member. It is
curious for the contemplative mind to mark those myste-
rious hangers-on of Irish members of parliament — strange
runners and aides-de-camp which all the honourable gen-
tlemen appear to possess. Desmond, in his political
capacity, is one of these, and besides his calling as re-
porter to a newspaper, is " our well-informed correspond-
ent" of that famous Munster paper, the Green Flag of
iSkibbereen.

With Mr. Mulligan's qualities and history I only be-
came subsequently acquainted. On the present evening
he made but a brief stay at the dinner-table, being com-
pelled by his professional duties to attend the House of
Commons.

The above formed the party with whom I had the hon-
our to dine. What other repasts Sir George Thrum may
have given, what assemblies of men of mere science he may
have invited to give their opinion regarding his prodigy,
what other editors of papers he may have pacified or ren-
dered favourable, who knows? On the present occasion,
we did not quit the dinner-table until Mr. Slang the man-
ager was considerably excited by wine, and music had been
heard for some time in the drawing-room overhead during
our absence. An addition had been made to the Thrum
party by the arrival of several persons to spend the even-
ing,— a man to play on the violin between the singing, a
youth to play on the piano, Miss Horsman to sing with
Mrs. Walker, and other scientific characters. In a corner
sat a red-faced old lady, of whom the mistress of the man-
sion took little notice; and a gentleman with a royal but-
ton, who blushed and looked exceedingly modest.

"Hang me! " says Mr. Bludyer, who had perfectly good

MEN'S WIVES. 377

reasons for recognising Mr. Woolsey, and who on this day
chose to assume his aristocratic air, "there's a tailor in the
room ! What do they mean by asking me to meet trades-
men? "

"Delancy, my dear," cries Slang, entering the room with
a reel, "how's your precious health? Give us your hand.
When are we to be married? Make room for me on the
sofa, that's a duck! "

"Get along, Slang," says Mrs. Crump, addressed by the
manager by her maiden name (artists generally drop the
title of honour which people adopt in the world, and call
each other by their simple surnames) — "get along, Slang,
or I'll tell Mrs. S. ! " The enterprising manager replies by
sportively striking Mrs. Crump on the side a blow which
causes a great giggle from the lady insulted, and a most
good-humoured threat to box Slang's ears. I fear very
much that Morgiana's mother thought Mr. Slang an ex-
ceedingly gentlemanlike and agreeable person; besides,
she was eager to have his good opinion of Mrs. Walker's
singing.

The manager stretched himself out with much graceful-
ness on the sofa, supporting two little dumpy legs encased
in varnished boots on a chair.

"Ajax, some tea to Mr. Slang," said my lady, looking
towards that gentleman with a countenance expressive of
some alarm, I thought.

" That's right, Ajax, my black prince ! " exclaimed Slang,
when the negro brought the required refreshment; "and
now I suppose you'll be wanted in the orchestra yonder.
Don't Ajax play the cymbals, Sir George? "

" Ha, ha ha ! very good '—capital ! " answered the knight,
exceedingly frightened ; " but ours is not a military band.
Miss Horsman, Mr. Craw, my dear Mrs. Ravenswing,
shall we begin the trio? Silence, gentlemen, if you please,
it is a little piece from my opera of the ' Brigand's Bride.'
Miss Horsman takes the Page's part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto
the Brigand, my accomplished pupil is the Bride," and the
music began.

378 MEN'S WIVES.

" The Bride.

My heart with joy is beating,
My eyes with tears are dim;

TJie Page.

Her heart with joy is beating,
Her eyes are fixed on him ;

Tlie Brigand.

My heart with rage is beating,
In blood my eye-balls swim! "

What may have been the merits of the music or the sing-
ing I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum sat opposite
the tea-cups, nodding her head and beating time very
gravely. Lord Roundtowers, by her side, nodded his head
too, for a while, and then fell asleep. I should have done
the same but for the manager, whose actions were worthy
of remark. He sung with all the three singers, and a great
deal louder than any of them ; he shouted bravo ! or hissed
as he thought proper ; he criticised all the points of Mrs.
Walker's person. "She'll do, Crump, she'll do — a splen-
did arm — you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery ! What
sort of a foot has she? She's five feet three, if she's
an inch ! Bravo — slap up — capital — hurra ! " and he con-
cluded by saying, with the aid of the Ravens wing, he
would put Ligonier's nose out of joint!

The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled Lady
Thrum to the abruptness of his manners, and even caused
Sir George to forget that his chorus had been interrupted
by the obstreperous familiarity of the manager.

"And what do you think, Mr. Bludyer," said the tailor,
delighted that his protegee should be thus winning all
hearts, " isn't Mrs. Walker a tip-top singer, ey, sir? "

"I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey ! " said the
illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all comniuDvca-
tions with a tailor to whom he owed forty pounds.

"Then, sir," says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, "I'll— I'll
thank you to pay me my little bill! "

MEN'S WIVES. '379

It is true there was no connexion between Mrs. Walker's
singing and Woolsey 's little bill ; that the " Then, sir," was
perfectly illogical on Woolsey' s part, but it was a very
happy hit for the future fortunes of Mrs. Walker. Who
knows what would ^have come of her debut but for that
" Then, sir," and whether a " smashing article from the
Tomahawk might not have ruined her for ever? "

"Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's? " said Mr. Blud-
yer, in reply to the angry tailor.

"What's that to you, whether I am or not?" replied
Woolsey, fiercely. "But I'm the friend of Mrs. Walker,
sir ; proud am I to say so, sir ; and, as the poet says, sir,
'a little learning's a dangerous thing,' sir; and I think a
man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue quiet at
least, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom everybody else
praises, sir. You shan't humbug me anymore, sir; you
shall hear from my attorney to-morrow, so mark that ! "

"Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey," cried the literary man,
"don't make a noise; come into this window; is Mrs.
Walker really a friend of yours? "

"I've told you so, sir."

" Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve her ;
and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to send
about her to the Tomahawk I promise you I'll put in."

" Will you, though? then we'll say nothing about the
little bill."

"You may do on that point," answered Bludyer, haugh-
tily, "exactly as you please. I am not to be frightened
from my duty, mind that ; and mind, too, that I can write
a slashing article better than any man in England : I could
crush her by ten lines."

The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey 's turn
to be alarmed.

" Pooh ! pooh ! I was angry," said he, " because you abused
Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth; but I'm very will-
ing to apologise. I say — come — let me take your measure
for some new clothes, eh! Mr. B.? "

"I'll come to your shop," answered the literary man,

380 MEN'S WIVES.

quite appeased. "Silence! they're beginning another
song."

The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, upon
my word and honour, as far as / can understand matters, I
believe, to this day, that Mrs. Walker was only an ordi-
nary singer), the songs lasted a great deal longer than I
liked, but I was nailed, as it were, to the spot, having
agreed to sup at Knightsbridge barracks with Fitz-Urse,
whose carriage was ordered at eleven o'clock.

"My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said our old host tome,
"you can do me the greatest service in the world."

"Speak, sir! "said I.

" Will you ask your honourable and gallant friend, the
captain, to drive home Mr. Squinny to Brompton? "

" Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab? " Sir G-eorge looked par-
ticularly arch.

" Generalship, my dear young friend, — a little harmless
generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give much for my opin-
ion of my pupil, but he will value very highly the opinion
of the Honourable Mr. Fitz-Urse."

For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever fel-
low? He had bought Mr. Squinny for a dinner worth ten
shillings, and for a ride in a carriage with a lord's son.
Squinny was carried to Brompton, and set down at his
aunt's door, delighted with his new friends, and exceed-
ingly sick with a cigar they had made him smoke.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN WHICH MR. WALKER SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE AND
FORBEARANCE.

THE describing of all these persons does not advance
Morgiana's story much. But, perhaps, some country read-
ers are not acquainted with the class of persons by whose
printed opinions they are guided, and are simple enough
to imagine that mere merit will make a reputation on the

MEN'S WIVES. 381

stage or elsewhere. The making of a theatrical success is
a much more complicated and curious thing than such per-
sons fancy it to be. Immense are the pains taken to get a
good word from Mr. This of the Star, or Mr. That of the
Courier, to propitiate the favour of the critic of the day,
and get the editors of the metropolis into a good humour,
— above all, to have the name of the party to be puffed
perpetually before the public. Artists cannot be advertised
like Macassar oil or blacking, and they want it to the full
as much ; hence endless ingenuity must be practised in or-
der to keep the popular attention awake. Suppose a great
actor moves from London to Windsor, the Brentford Cham-
pion must state, "That yesterday Mr. Blazes and suite
passed rapidly through our city ; the celebrated comedian
is engaged, we hear, at Windsor, to give some of his inimi-
table readings of our great national bard to the most illus-
trious audience in the realm." This piece of intelligence
the Hammersmith Observer will question the next week, as
thus: — "A contemporary, the Brentford Champion, says
that Blazes is engaged to give Shaksperean readings, at
Windsor, to * the most illustrious audience in the realm.'
We question this fact very much. We would, indeed, that
it were true ; but the most illustrious audience in the realm
prefers foreign melodies to the native wood-notes wild of the
sweet song-bird of Avon. Mr. Blazes is simply gone to
Eton, where his son, Master Massinger Blazes, is suffering,
we regret to hear, under a severe attack of the chicken-pox.
This complaint (incident to youth) has raged, we under-
stand, with frightful virulence in Eton School. "

And if, after the above paragraphs, some London paper
chooses to attack the folly of the provincial press, which
talks of Mr. Blazes, and chronicles his movements, as if he
were a crowned head, what harm is done? Blazes can
write in his own name to the London journal, and say that
it is not his fault if provincial journals choose to chronicle
his movements, and that he was far from wishing that the
afflictions of those who are dear to him should form the
subject of public comment, and be held up to public ridicule.

382 MEN'S WIVES.

" We had no intention of hurting the feelings of an estima-
ble public servant," writes the editor; "and our remarks
on the chicken-pox were general, not personal. We sin-
cerely trust that Master Massinger Blazes has recovered
from that complaint, and that he may pass through the
measles, the hooping-cough, the fourth form, and all other
diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort to him-
self, and credit to his parents and teachers." At his next
appearance on the stage after this controversy, a British
public calls for Blazes three times after the play, and some-
how there is sure to be some one with a laurel-wreath in
a stage-box, who flings that chaplet at the inspired artist's
feet.

I don't know how it was, but before the debut of Morgi-
ana the English press began to heave and throb in a con-
vulsive manner, as if indicative of the near birth of some
great thing. For instance, you read in one paper,—

"Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weber. — When the author
of * Oberon ' was in England, he was invited by a noble
duke to dinner, and some of the most celebrated of our ar-
tists were assembled to meet him. The signal being given
to descend to the salle-a-manger, the German composer was
invited by his noble host (a bachelor) to lead the way.
'Is it not the fashion in your country,' said he, simply,
'for the man of the first eminence to take the first place?
Here is one whose genius entitles him to be first any-
where.1 And, so saying, he pointed to our admirable Eng-
lish composer, Sir George Thrum. The two musicians
were friends to the last, and Sir George has still the iden-
tical piece of rosin which the author of the ' Freischutz *
gave him." — The Moon (morning paper), 2d June.

" George III. a Composer. — Sir George Thrum has in his
possession the score of an air, the words from ( Samson
Agonistes,' an autograph of the late revered monarch. We
hear that that excellent composer has in store for us not
only an opera, but a pupil, with whose transcendant merits

MEN'S WIVES. 383

the elite of our aristocracy are already familiar."-— /W&,
June 5.

" Music with a Vengeance. — The march to the sound of
which the 49th and 75th regiments rushed up the breach
of Badajoz was the celebrated air from ' Britons Alarmed ;
or, the Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom/ by our famous English
composer, Sir George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that
the French line never stood when that air was performed
to the charge of the bayonet. We hear the veteran musi-
cian has an opera now about to appear, and have no doubt
that Old England will now, as then, show its superiority
over all foreign opponents." — Albion.

" We have been accused of preferring the produit of the
etranger to the talent of our own native shores ; — but those
who speak so, little know us. We are fanatici per la mu~
sica wherever it be, and welcome merit dans chaque pays
du monde. What do we say? Le merite n* a point de payst
as Napoleon said ; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de
Pordre de P Elephant et Chateau, de Panama) is a maestro,
whose fame appartient a I' Europe.

" We have just heard the lovely eleve, whose rare quali-
ties the cavaliere has brought to perfection, — we have heard
THE RAVENS WING (pourquoicacher un nom que demain un
monde va saluer} , and a creature more beautiful and gifted
never bloomed before dans nos climats. She sung the de-
licious duet of the 'Nabucodonosore,' with Count Pizzicato,
with a bellezza, a grandezza, a raggio, that excited in the
bosom of the audience a corresponding furore : her scher-
zando was exquisite, though we confess we thought the
concluding fioritura in the passage in y flat, a leetle, a very
leetle sporzata* Surely the words,

' Giorno d'orrore,
Delire, dolore,
Nabucodonosore, '

should be given andante, and not con strepito : but this is

a faute bien legere in the midst of such unrivalled excel-

17 Vol. 13

384 MEN'S WIVES.

lence, and only mentioned here that we may have something
to criticise.

" We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the
royal theatres has made an engagement with the Diva;
and, if we have a regret, it is that she should be compelled
to sing in the unfortunate language of our rude northern
clime, which does not prefer itself near so well to the bocca
of the cantatrice as do the mellifluous accents of the Lingua
Toscana, the langue par excellence of song.

"The Bavenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso
of nine octaves," &c. — Flowers of Fashion, June 10.

" Old Thrum, the composer, is bringing out an opera and
a pupil. The opera is good, the pupil first-rate. The
opera will do much more than compete with the infernal
twaddle and disgusting slip-slop of Donizetti, and the milk-
and-water fools who imitate him : it will (and we ask the
readers of the Tomahawk, were we EVER mistaken?) sur-
pass all these ; it is good, of downright English stuff. The
airs are fresh and pleasing, the choruses large and noble,
the instrumentation solid and rich, the music is carefully
written. We wish old Thrum and his opera well.

" His pupil is a SURE CARD, a splendid woman, and a
splendid singer. She is so handsome that she might sing
as much out of tune as Miss Ligonier, and the public would
forgive her ; and sings so well, that were she as ugly as the
aforesaid Ligonier, the audience would listen to her. The
Eavenswing, that is her fantastical theatrical name (her
real name is the same with that of a notorious scoundrel in
the Fleet, who invented the Panama swindle, the Pontine
marshes' swindle, the soap swindle — how are you off for
soap now, Mr. W-lk-r?) the Eavenswing, we say, will DO.
Slang has engaged her at thirty guineas per week, and she
appears next month in Thrum's opera, of which the words
are written by a great ass with some talent, we mean Mr.
Mulligan.

" There is a foreign fool in the Flowers of Fashion who
is doing his best to disgust the public by his filthy flattery.

MEN'S WIVES.

385

It is enough to make one sick. Why is the foreign
beast not kicked out of the paper?" — The Tomahawk,
June 17.

The three first " anecdotes " were supplied by Mulligan
to his paper, with many others which need not here be re-
peated ; he kept them up with amazing energy and variety.
Anecdotes of Sir George Thrum met you unexpectedly in
queer corners of country papers ; puffs of the English school
of music appeared perpetually in "notices to correspond-
ents " in the Sunday prints, some of which Mr. Slang com-
manded, and in others over which the indefatigable Mulli-
gan had a control. This youth was the soul of the little
conspiracy for raising Morgiana into fame ; and humble as
he is, and great and respectable as is Sir George Thrum, it
is my belief that the Kavenswing would never have been
the Ravenswing she is but for the ingenuity and energy of
the honest Hibernian reporter.

It is only the business of the great man who writes the
leading articles which appear in the large type of the daily
papers to compose those astonishing pieces of eloquence ;
the other parts of the paper are left to the ingenuity of the
sub-editor, whose duty it is to select paragraphs, reject or
receive horrid accidents, police reports, &c. ; with which,
occupied as he is in the exercise of his tremendous func-
tions, the editor himself cannot be expected to meddle.
The fate of Europe is his province, the rise and fall of em-
pires, and the great questions of state demand the editor's
attention : the humble puff, the paragraph about the last
murder, or the state of the crops, or the sewers in Chan-
cery Lane, is confided to the care of the sub ; and it is curi-
ous to see what a prodigious number of Irishmen exist
among the sub-editors of London. When the liberator
enumerates the services of his countrymen, how the battle
of Fontenoy was won by the Irish brigade, how the battle
of Waterloo would have been lost but for the Irish regi-
ments, and enumerates other acts for which we are indebted
to Milesian heroism and genius, — he ought at least to men-

386 MEN'S WIVES.

tion the Irish brigade of the press, and the amazing services
they do to this country.

The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear to
do their duty right well ; and my friend Mr. Mulligan is
one of the former. Having the interests of his opera and
the Eavenswing strongly at heart, and being amongst his
brethren an exceedingly popular fellow, he managed mat-
ters so that never a day passed but some paragraph appeared
' somewhere regarding the new singer, in whom, for their
countryman's sake, all his brothers and sub-editors felt an
interest.

These puffs, destined to make known to all the world
the merits of the Eavenswing, of course had an effect upon
a gentleman very closely connected with that lady, the re-
spectable prisoner in the Fleet, Captain Walker. As long
as he received his weekly two guineas from Mr. Woolsey,
and the occasional half-crowns which his wife could spare
in her almost daily visits to him, he had never troubled
himself to inquire what her pursuits were, and had allowed
her (though the worthy woman longed with all her might
to betray herself) to keep her secret. He was far from
thinking indeed, that his wife would prove such a treasure
to him.

But when the voice of fame and the columns of the pub-
lic journals brought him each day some new story regard-
ing the merits, genius, and beauty, of the Eavenswing:
when rumours reached him that she was the favourite pu-
pil of Sir George Thrum ; when she brought him five guin-
eas after singing at the Philharmonic (other five the good
soul had spent in purchasing some smart new cockades,
hats, cloaks, and laces, for her little son) ; when, finally,
it was said that Slang, the great manager, offered her an
engagement at thirty guineas per week, Mr. Walker be-
came exceedingly interested in his wife's proceedings, of
which he demanded from her the fullest explanation.

Using his marital authority, he absolutely forbade Mrs.
Walker's appearance on the public stage; he wrote to Sir
George Thrum a letter expressive of his highest indignation

MEN'S WIVES.

387

that negotiations so important should ever have been com-
menced without his authorisation ; and he wrote to his dear
Slang (for these gentlemen were very intimate, and in the
course of his transactions as an agent Mr. W. had had
many dealings with Mr. S.) asking his dear Slang whether
the latter thought his friend Walker would be so green as
to allow his wife to appear on the stage, and he remain in
prison with all his debts on his head?

And it was a curious thing now to behold how eager
those very creditors who but yesterday (and with perfect
correctness) had denounced Mr. Walker as a swindler ; who
had refused to come to any composition with him, and had
sworn never to release him ; how they on a sudden became
quite eager to come to an arrangement with him, and
offered, nay, begged and prayed him to go free, — only giv-
ing them his own and Mrs. Walker's acknowledgment of
their debt, with a promise that a part of the lady's salary
should be devoted to the payment of the claim.

"The lady's salary!" said Mr. Walker, indignantly, to
these gentlemen and their attorneys. " Do you suppose I
will allow Mrs. Walker to go on the stage? — do you sup-
pose I am such a fool as to sign bills to the fall amount of
these claims against me, when in a few months more I can
walk out of prison without paying a shilling? Gentle-
men, you take Howard Walker for an idiot. I like the
Fleet, and rather than pay I'll stay here for these tea
years."

In other words, it was the captain's determination to
make some advantageous bargain for himself with his cred-
itors and the gentlemen who were interested in bringing
forward Mrs. Walker on the stage. And who can say that
in so determining he did not act with laudable prudence
and justice?

" You do not, surely, consider, my very dear sir, that
half the amount of Mrs. Walker's salaries is too much for
my immense trouble and pains in teaching her? " cried Sir
George Thrum (who, in reply to Walker's note, thought it
most prudent to wait personally on that gentleman). " Re-

388 MEN'S WIVES.

member that I am the first master in England ; that I have
the best interest in England ; that I can bring her out at
the Palace, and at every concert and musical festival in
England; that I am obliged to teach her every single note
that she utters ; and that without me she could no more
sing a song than her little baby could walk without its
nurse."

"I believe about half what you say," said Mr. Walker.

" My dear Captain Walker ! would you question my in-
tegrity? Who was it that made Mrs. Millington's fortune,
— the celebrated Mrs. Millington, who has now got a hun-
dred thousand pounds? Who was it that brought out the
finest tenor in Europe, Poppleton? Ask the Musical World,
ask those great artists themselves, and they will tell you
they owe their reputation, their fortune, to Sir George
Thrum."

"It is very likely," replied the captain, coolly. "You
are a good master, I dare say, Sir George ; but I am not
going to article Mrs. Walker to you for three years, and
sign her articles in the Fleet. Mrs. Walker shan't sing till
I'm a free man, that's flat; if I stay here till you're dead
she shan't."

" Gracious powers, sir ! " exclaimed Sir George, " do you
expect me to pay your debts? "

"Yes, old boy," answered the captain, "and to give me
something handsome in hand, too; and that's my ultima-
tum : and so I wish you good morning, for I'm engaged to
play a match at tennis below. "

This little interview exceedingly frightened the worthy
knight, who went home to his lady in a delirious state of
alarm occasioned by the audacity of Captain Walker.

Mr. Slang's interview with him was scarcely more satis-
factory. He owed, he said, four thousand pounds. His
creditors might be brought to compound for five shillings
in the pound. He would not consent to allow his wife to
make a single engagement until the creditors were satisfied,
and until he had a handsome sum in hand to begin the
world with. "Unless my wife comes out, you'll be in the

MEN'S WIVES. 389

Gazette yourself, you know you will. So you may take
her or leave her, as you think fit."

" Let her sing one night as a trial," said Mr. Slang.

"If she sings one night, the creditors will want their
money in full," replied the captain. "I shan't let her la-
bour, poor thing, for the profit of those scoundrels ! " add-
ed the prisoner, with much feeling. And Slang left him
with a much greater respect for Walker than he had ever
before possessed. He was struck with the gallantry of the
man who could triumph over misfortunes, nay, make mis-
fortune itself an engine of good luck.

Mrs. Walker was instructed instantly to have a severe
sore throat. The journals in Mr. Slang's interest deplored
this illness pathetically; while the papers in the interest
of the opposition theatre magnified it with great malice.
"The new singer," said one, "the great wonder which
Slang promised us, is as hoarse as a raven ! " "Dr. Thorax
pronounces," wrote another paper, " that the quinsy, which
has suddenly prostrated Mrs. Eavenswing, whose singing
at the Philharmonic, previous to her appearance at the T.

E , excited so much applause, has destroyed the lady's

voice for ever. We luckily need no other prirna donna,
when that place, as nightly thousands acknowledge, is held
by Miss Ligonier." The Looker-on said, "That although
some well-informed contemporaries had declared Mrs. W.
Eavenswing7 s complaint to be a quinsy, others, on whose
authority they could equally rely, had pronounced it to be
a consumption. At all events, she was in an exceedingly
dangerous state, from which, though we do not expect, we
heartily trust she may recover. Opinions differ as to the
merits of this lady, some saying that she was altogether
inferior to Miss Ligonier, while other connoisseurs declare
the latter lady to be by no means so accomplished a per-
son. This point, we fear," continued the Looker-on, " can
never now be settled, unless, which we fear is improbable,
Mrs. Eavenswing should ever so far recover as to be able
to make her debut ; and even then, the new singer will not
have a fair chance unless her voice and strength shall be

390 MEN'S WIVES.

fully restored. This information, which we have from ex-
clusive resources, may be relied on," concluded the Looker-
on, "as authentic."

It was Mr. Walker himself, that artful and audacious
Eleet prisoner, who concocted those very paragraphs
against his wife's health which appeared in the journals
of the Ligonier party. The partisans of that lady were de-
lighted, the creditors of Mr. Walker astounded, at reading
them. Even Sir George Thrum was taken in, and came
to the Fleet prison in considerable alarm.

"Mum's the word, my good sir!" said Mr. Walker.
" Now is the time to make arrangements with the creditors, "

Well, these arrangements were finally made. It does
not matter how many shillings in the pound satisfied the
rapacious creditors of Morgiana's husband. But it is cer-
tain that her voice returned to her all of a sudden upon
the captain's release. The papers of the Mulligan faction
again trumpeted her perfections; the agreement with Mr.
Slang was concluded; that with Sir George Thrum the
great composer satisfactorily arranged; and the new opera
underlined in immense capitals in the bills, and put in re-
hearsal with immense expenditure on the part of the scene-
painter and costumier.

Need we fcell with what triumphant success the " Brig-
and's Bride " was received? All the Irish sub-editors the
next morning took care to have such an account of it as
made Miss Ligonier and Baroski die with envy. All the
reporters who could spare time were in the boxes to sup-
port their friend's work. All the journeymen tailors of
the establishment of Linsey, WToolsey, and Co., had pit
tickets given to them, and applauded with all their might.
All Mr. Walker's friends of the Regent Club lined the side-
boxes with white kid gloves; and in a little box by them-
selves sat Mrs. Crump and Mr. Woolsey, a great deal too
much agitated to applaud — so agitated, that Woolsey even
forgot to fling down the bouquet he had brought for the
Ravenswing

MEN'S WIVES. 391

But there was no lack of those horticultural ornaments.
The theatre servants wheeled away a wheelbarrow full
(which were flung on the stage the next night over again) ;
and Morgiana blushing, panting, weeping, was led off by
Mr. Poppleton, the eminent tenor, who had crowned her
with one of the most conspicuous of the chaplets.

Here she flew to her husband, and flung her arms round
his neck. He was flirting behind the side-scenes with
Mademoiselle Flicflac, who had been dancing in the diver-
tissement ; and was probably the only man in the theatre
of those who witnessed the embrace that did not care for
it. Even Slang was affected, and said with perfect sin-
cerity that he wished he had been in Walker's place. The
manager's fortune was made, at least for the season. He
acknowledged so much to Walker, who took a week's sal-
ary for his wife in advance that very night.

There was, as usual, a grand supper in the green-room.
The terrible Mr. Bludyer appeared in a new coat of the
well-known Woolsey cut, and the little tailor himself and
Mrs. Crump were not the least happy of the party. But
when the Bavenswing took Woolsey ?s hand, and said she
never would have been there but for him, Mr. Walker
looked very grave, and hinted to her that she must not, in
her position, encourage the attentions of persons in that
rank of life. "I shall pay," said he, proudly, "every
farthing that is owing to Mr. Woolsey, and shall employ
him for the future. But you understand, my love, that
one cannot at one's own table receive one's own tailor."

Slang proposed Morgiana' s health in a tremendous
speech, which elicited cheers, and laughter, and sobs, such
as only managers have the art of drawing from the theatri-
cal gentlemen and ladies an their employ. It was observed,
especially among the chorus-singers at the bottom of the
table, that their emotion was intense. They had a meeting
the next day and voted a piece of plate to Adolphus Slang,
Esq., for his eminent services in the cause of the drama.

Walker returned thanks for -his lady. That was, he
said, the proudest moment of his life. He w°s proud to

392

MEN'S WIVES.

think that he had educated her for the stage, happy to
think that his sufferings had not been vain, and that his
exertions in her behalf were crowned with full success. In
her name and his own he thanked the company, and sat
down, and was once more particularly attentive to Made-
moiselle Flicflac.

Then came an oration from Sir George Thrum, in reply
to Slang's toast to him. It was very much to the same
effect as the speech by Walker, the two gentlemen attribut-
ing to themselves individually the merit of bringing out
Mrs. Walker. He concluded by stating that he should
always hold Mrs. Walker as the daughter of his heart, and
to the last moment of his life should love and cherish her.
It is certain that Sir George was exceedingly elated that
night, and would have been scolded by his lady on hia re-
turn home but for the triumph of the evening.

Mulligan's speech of thanks, as author of the "Brig-
and's Bride," was, it must be confessed, extremely tedi-
ous. It seemed there would be no end to it ; when he got
upon the subject of Ireland especially, which somehow was
found to be intimately connected with the interests of music
and the theatre. Even the choristers pooh-poohed this
speech, coming though it did from the successful author,
whose songs of wine, love, and battle, they had been re-
peating that night.

The "Brigand's Bride" ran for many nights. Its cho-
ruses were tuned on the organs of the day. Morgiana's
airs "the Rose upon my Balcony, " and "the Lightning on
the Cataract" (recitative and scena) were on everybody's
lips, and brought so many guineas to Sir George Thrum
that he was encouraged to have his portrait engraved,
which still may be seen in the music-shops. Not many
persons, I believe, bought proof impressions of the plate,
price two guineas : whereas, on the contrary, all the young
clerks in banks, and all the fast young men of the universi-
ties, had pictures of the Ravenswing in their apartments
— as Biondetta (the brigand's bride), as Zelyma (in the
"Nuptials of Benares"), as Barbareska (in the "Mine of

MEN'S WIVES.

Tobolsk "), and in all her famous characters. In the latter
she disguises herself as an uhlan, in order to save her
father, who is in prison ; and the Kavenswing looked so
fascinating in this costume in pantaloons and yellow boots,
that Slang was for having her instantly in Captain Mac-
heath, whence arose their quarrel.

She was replaced at Slang's theatre by Snooks, the rhi-
noceros-tamer, with his breed of wild buffaloes. Their
success was immense. Slang gave a supper, at which all
the company burst into tears, and assembling in the green-
room next day, they, as usual, voted a piece of plate to
Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent services to the
drama.

In the Captain Macheath dispute Mr. Walker would have
had his wife yield ; but on this point, and for once, she diso-
beyed her husband and left the theatre. And when Walker
cursed her (according to his wont) for her abominable self-
ishness and disregard of his property, she burst into tears
and said she had spent but twenty guineas on herself and
baby during the year, that her theatrical dressmaker's bills
were yet unpaid, and that she had never asked him how
much he spent on that odious French figurante.

All this was true, except about the French figurante.
Walker, as the lord and master, received all Morgiana's
earnings, and spent them as a gentleman should. He gave
very neat dinners at a cottage in the Kegent's Park (Mr.
and Mrs. Walker lived in Green Street, Grosvenor Square),
he played a good deal at the Kegent ; but for the French
figurante, it must be confessed, that Mrs. Walker was in a
Sad error; that lady and the captain had parted long ago;
it was Madame Dolores de Tras-os-Montes who inhabited
the cottage in St. John's Wood now.

But if some little errors of this kind might be attributa-
ble to the captain, on the other hand, when his wife was in
the provinces, he was the most attentive of husbands;
inade all her bargains, and received every shilling before
he would permit her to sing :. note. Thus he prevented
her from being cheated, as a person of her easy temper

394

MEN'S WIVES.

doubtless would have been, by designing managers and
needy concert-givers. They always travelled with four
horses ; and Walker was adored in every one of the princi-
pal hotels in England. The waiters flew at his bell. The
chambermaids were afraid he was a sad naughty man, and
thought his wife no such great beauty ; the landlords pre-
ferred him. to any duke. He never looked at their bills,
not he ! In fact his income was at least four thousand a
year for some years of his life.

Master Woolsey Walker was put to Dr. Wapshot's sem-
inary, whence after many disputes on the doctor's part as
to getting his half-year's accounts paid, and after much
complaint of ill-treatment on the little boy's side, he was
withdrawn, and placed under the care of the Rev. Mr.
Swishtail, at Turnham Green ; where all his bills are paid
by his godfather, now the head of the firm of Woolsey and
Co.

As a gentleman, Mr. Walker still declines to see him;
but he has not, as far as I have heard, paid the sums of
money which he threatened to refund ; and, as he is seldom
at home, the worthy tailor can come to Green Street at his
leisure ; and he and Mrs. Crump, and Mrs. Walker, often
take the omnibus to Brentford, and a cake with them to
little Woolsey at school; to whom the tailor says he will
leave every shilling of his property.

The Walkers have no other children ; but when she takes
her airing in the Park she always turns away at the sight
of a low phaeton, in which sits a woman with rouged
cheeks, and a great number of over-dressed children with
a French bonne, whose name, I am given to understand, is
Madame Dolores de Tras-os-Montes. Madame de Tras-os-
Montes always puts a great gold glass to her eye as the
Eavenswing's carriage passes, and looks into it with a
sneer. The two coachmen used always to exchange queer
winks at each other in the ring, until Madame de Tras-os-
Montes lately adopted a tremendous chasseur, with huge
whiskers and a green and gold livery; since which time
the formerly named gentlemen do not recognise each other.

MEN'S WIVES.

395

The Ravenswing's life is one of perpetual triumph on
the stage ; and, as every one of the fashionable men about
town have been in love with her, you may fancy what a
pretty character she has. Lady Thrum would die sooner
than speak to that unhappy young woman; and, in fact,
the Thrums have a new pupil, who is a syren without the
dangerous qualities of one, who has the person of a Venus
and the mind of a Muse, and who is coming out at one of
the theatres immediately. Baroski says, " De liddle Ra-
fenschwing is just as font of me as effer!" People are
very shy about receiving her in society! and when she goes
to sing at a concert, Miss Prim starts up and skurries off
in a state of the greatest alarm, lest " that person " should
speak to her.

Walker is voted a good, easy, rattling, gentlemanly fel-
low, and nobody's enemy but his own. His wife, they
say, is dreadfully extravagant ; and, indeed, since his mar-
riage, and, in spite of his wife's large income, he has been
in the Bench several times, but she signs some bills and he
comes out again, and is as gay and genial as ever. All
mercantile speculations he has wisely long since given up;
he likes to throw a main of an evening, -as I have said, and
to take his couple of bottles at dinner. On Friday he at-
tends at the theatre for his wife's salary, and transacts no
other business during the week. He grows exceedingly
stout, dyes his hair, and has a bloated purple look about
the nose and cheeks, very different from that which first
charmed the heart of Morgiana.

By the way, Eglantine has been turned out of the Bower
of Bloom, and now keeps a shop at Tunbridge Wells. Go-
ing down thither last year without a razor, I asked a fat,
seedy man, lolling in a faded nankeen jacket at the door of
a tawdry little shop in the Pantiles, to shave me. He said
in reply, " Sir, I do not practise in that branch of the pro-
fession ! " and turned back into the little shop. It was
Archibald Eglantine. But in the wreck of his fortunes, he
still has his captain's uniform, and his grand cross of the
order of the Elephant and Castle of Panama.

396

MEN'S WIVES.

POSTSCEIPT.
G. FITZ-BOODLE, ESQ., TO 0. YORKE, ESQ.

ZUM TRIERISCHEN HOF, COBLENZ, July 10, 1843.

MY DEAR YORKE, — The story of the Ravenswing was
•written a long time since, and I never could account for the
bad taste of the publishers of the metropolis who refused
it an insertion in their various magazines. This fact would
never have been alluded to but for the following circum-
stance : —

Only yesterday, as I was dining at this excellent hotel,
I remarked a bald-headed gentleman in a blue coat and
brass buttons, who looked like a colonel on half -pay, and
by his side a lady and a little boy of twelve, whom the
gentleman was cramming with an amazing quantity of
cherries and cakes. A stout old dame in a wonderful cap
and ribands was seated by the lady's side, and it was easy
to see they were English, and I thought I had already
made their acquaintance elsewhere.

The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an
accompanying blush.

" Surely," said I, " I have the honour of speaking to Mrs.
Ravenswing? "

"Mrs. WOOLSEY, sir," said the gentleman; "my wife
has long since left the stage : " and at this the old lady in
the wonderful cap trod on my toes very severely, and
nodded her head and all her ribands in a most mysterious
way. Presently the two ladies rose and left the table, the
elder declaring that she heard the baby crying.

" Woolsey, my dear, go with your mamma," said Mr.
Woolsey, patting the boy on the head : the young gentle-
man obeyed the command, carrying off a plate of macaroons
with him.

" Your son is a fine boy, sir," said I.

"My step-son, sir," answered Mr. Woolsey; and added

MEN'S WIVES.

397

in a louder voice, " I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, at once,
but did not mention your name for fear of agitating my
wife. She don't like to have the memory of old times re-
newed, sir ; her former husband, whom you knew, Captain
Walker, made her very unhappy. He died in America,
sir, of this, I fear" (pointing to the bottle), "and Mrs.
W. quitted the stage a year before I quitted business. Are
you going on to Wiesbaden? "

They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on
the box making great efforts to blow out of the postilion's
tasselled horn.

I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and
hasten to inform you of the fact : I am going to visit the
old haunts of my youth at Pumpernickel.

Adieu. Yours, G. F. B.

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY

CHAPTER I.

OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON,
AND OF THE TWO GREAT FACTIONS IN THE TOWN
OF OLDBOROUGH.

" MY dear John," cried Lucy, with a very wise look in-
deed, " it must and shall be so. As for Doughty-street,
with our means, a house is out of the question. We must
keep three servants, and Aunt Biggs says the taxes are
one- and- twenty pounds a year."

" I have seen a sweet place at Chelsea," remarked John ;
" Paradise-row, No. 17, — garden — greenhouse — fifty pounds
a year — omnibus to town within a mile."

" What, that I may be left alone all day, and you spend
a fortune in driving backward and forward in those horrid
breakneck cabs? My darling, I should die there — die of
fright, I know I should. Did you not say yourself that
the road was not as yet lighted, and that the place
swarmed with public-houses and dreadful tipsy Irish brick-
layers? Would you kill me, John? "

" My da — arling," said John, with tremendous fondness,
clutching Miss Lucy suddenly round the waist, and rap-
ping the hand of that young person violently against his
waistcoat, — "my — da — arling, don't say such things, even

* A story of Charles de Bernard furnished the plot of " The Bed-
ford-Row Conspiracy."

402 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

in a joke. If I objected to the chambers, it is only be-
cause you, my love, with your birth and connections, ought
to have a house of your own. The chambers are quite
large enough, and certainly quite good enough for me."
And so after some more sweet parley 011 the part of these
young people, it was agreed that they should take up their
abode, when married, in a part of the house, number one
hundred and something, Bedford-row.

It will be necessary to explain to the reader, that John
was no other than John Perkins, Esq., of the Middle Tem-
ple, barrister-at-law, and that Miss Lucy was the daughter
of the late Captain Gorgon, and Marianne Biggs, his wife.
The captain being of noble connections, younger son of a
baronet, cousin to Lord XL. and related to the Y. family,
had angered all his relatives, by marrying a very silly,
pretty young woman, who kept a ladies' school at Canter-
bury. She had six hundred pounds to her fortune, which
the captain laid out in the purchase of a sweet travelling-
carriage and dressing-case for himself; and going abroad
with his lady, spent several years in the principal prisons
of Europe, in one of which he died. His wife and daugh-
ter were meantime supported by the contributions of Mrs.
Jemima Biggs, who still kept the ladies' school.

At last a dear old relative — such a one as one reads of in
romances — died and left seven thousand pounds apiece to
the two sisters, whereupon the elder gave up schooling and
retired to London; and the younger managed to live with
some comfort and decency at Brussels, upon two hundred
and ten pounds per annum. Mrs. Gorgon never touched a
shilling of her capital, for the very good reason that it
was placed entirely out of her reach ; so that when she
died, her daughter found herself in possession of a sum of
money that is not always to be met with in this world.

Her aunt, the baronet's lady, and her aunt, the ex-
schoolmistress, both wrote very pressing invitations to her,
and she resided with each for six months after her arrival
in England. Now, for a second time, she had come to
Mrs. Biggs, Caroline -place, Mecklenburgh-square. It was

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 403

under the roof of that respectable old lady, that John
Perkins, Esq., being invited to take tea, wooed and won
Miss Gorgon.

Having thus described the circumstances of Miss Gor-
gon's life, let us pass for a moment from that young lady,
and lift up the veil of mystery which envelopes the deeds
and character of Perkins.

Perkins, too, was an orphan ; and he and his Lucy, of
summer evenings, when Sol descending lingered fondly yet
about the minarets of the Foundling, and gilded the grass-
plots of Mecklenburgh- square — Perkins, I say, and Lucy
would often sit together in the summer-house of that
pleasure-ground, and muse upon the strange coincidences
of their life. Lucy was motherless and fatherless ; so, too,
was Perkins. If Perkins was brotherless and sisterless,
was not Lucy likewise an only child? Perkins was twenty-
three — his age and Lucy's united, amounted to forty-six;
and it was to be remarked, as a fact still more extraor-
dinary, that while Lucy's relatives were aunts, John's
were uncles; mysterious spirit of love ! — let us treat thee
with respect and whisper not too many of thy secrets.
The fact is, John and Lucy were a pair of fools (as every
young couple ought to be who have hearts that are worth a
farthing), and were ready to find coincidences, sympathies,
hidden gushes of feeling, mystic unions of the soul, and
what not, in every single circumstance that occurred from
the rising of the sun to the going down thereof, and in the
intervals. Bedford-row, where Perkins lived, is not very
far from Mecklenburgh-square ; and John used to say, that
he felt a comfort that his house and Lucy's were served by
the same muffin-man.

Further comment is needless. A more honest, simple,
clever, warm-hearted, soft, whimsical, romantical, high-
spirited young fellow than John Perkins did not exist.
When his father, Dr. Perkins, died, this, his only son, was
placed uuder the care of John Perkins, Esq., of the house
of Perkins, Scully, and Perkins, those celebrated attorneys
in the trading town of Oldborough, which the second part-

404

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

ner, William Pitt Scully, Esq., represented in parliament
and in London.

All John's fortune was the house in Bedford-row, which,
at his father's death, was let out into chambers, and
brought in a clear hundred a-year. Under his uncle's roof
at Oldborough, where he lived with thirteen red-haired
male and female cousins, he was only charged fifty pounds
for board, clothes, and pocket-money, and the remainder
of his rents was carefully put by for him until his majority.
When he approached that period — when he came to belong
to two spouting clubs at Oldborough, among the young
merchants and lawyers' -clerks — to blow the flute nicely,
and play a good game at billiards — to have written one or
two smart things in the Oldborough Sentinel — to be fond
of smoking (in which act he was discovered by his faint-
ing aunt at three o'clock one morning) — in one word, when.
John Perkins arrived at manhood, he discovered that he
was quite unfit to be an attorney, that he detested all the
ways of his uncle's stern, dull, vulgar, regular, red -headed
family, and he vowed that he would go to London and
make his fortune. Thither he went, his aunt and cousins,
who were all "serious," vowing that he was a lost boy,
and when his history opens, John had been two years in
the metropolis, inhabiting his own garrets ; and a very nice
compact set of apartments, looking into the back-garden,
at this moment falling vacant, the prudent Lucy Gorgon
had visited them, and vowed that she and her John should
there commence housekeeping.

All these explanations are tedious, but necessary ; and
furthermore, it must be said, that as John's uncle's partner
was the liberal member for Oldborough, so Lucy's uncle
was its ministerial representative.

This gentleman, the brother of the deceased Captain
Gorgon, lived at the paternal mansion of Gorgon Castle,
and rejoiced in the name and title of Sir John Grimsby
Gorgon. He, too, like his younger brother, had married
a lady beneath his own rank in life : having espoused the
daughter and heiress of Mr. Hicks, the great brewer at

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 405

Oldborough, who held numerous mortgages on the Gorgon
property, all of which he yielded up, together with his
daughter Eliza, to the care of the baronet.

What Lady Gorgon was in character, this history will
show. In person, if she may be compared to any vulgar
animal, one of her father's heavy, healthy, broad-flanked,
Eoman-nosed, white dray-horses, might, to the poetic
mind, appear to resemble her. At twenty she was a splen-
did creature, and though not at her full growth, yet re-
markable for strength and sinew : at forty-five she was as
fine a woman as any in his majesty's dominions. Five feet
seven in height, thirteen stone, her own teeth and hair,
she looked as if she were the mother of a regiment of gren-
adier guards. She had three daughters of her own size,
and at length ten years after the birth of the last of the
young ladies, a son — one son — George Augustus Frederic
Grimsby Gorgon, the godson of a royal duke, whose steady
officer in waiting Sir George had been for many years.

It is needless to say, after entering so largely into a
description of Lady Gorgon, that her husband was a little,
shrivelled, weazen-faced creature, eight inches shorter
than her ladyship. This is the way of the world, as every
single reader of this book must have remarked ; for frolic
love delights to join giants and pigmies of different sexes
in the bonds of matrimony. When you saw her ladyship,
in flame-coloured satin, and gorgeous toque and feathers,
entering the drawing-room, as footmen along the stairs
shouted melodiously, " Sir George and Lady Gorgon," you
beheld in her company a small withered old gentleman,
with powder and large royal household buttons, who
tripped at her elbow as a little weak-legged colt does at the
side of a stout mare.

The little General had been present at about a hundred
and twenty pitch-battles on Hounslow Heath and Worm-
wood Scrubs, but had never drawn his sword against an
enemy. As might be expected, therefore, his talk and
tenue were outrageously military. He had the whole army-
list by heart— that is, as far as the field-oincers— -all be-

406 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

low them he scorned. A bugle at Gorgon Castle always
sounded at breakfast and dinner : a gun announced sunset.
He clung to his pigtail for many years after the army had
forsaken that ornament, and could never be brought to
think much of the Peninsular men for giving it up. When
he spoke of the duke, he used to call him " My Lord Well-
ington— 1 recollect him as Captain Wesley." He swore
fearfully in conversation — was most regular at church, and
regularly read to his family and domestics the morning and
evening prayer ; he bullied his daughters, seemed to bully
his wife, who led him whither she chose ; gave grand en-
tertainments, and never asked a friend by chance; had
splendid liveries, and starved his people ; and was as dull,
stingy, pompous, insolent, cringing, ill-tempered a little
creature as ever was known.

With such qualities you may fancy that he was generally
admired in society and by his country. So he was : and I
never knew a man so endowed whose way through life was
not safe — who had fewer pangs of conscience — more positive
enjoyments — more respect shown to him — more favours
granted to him, than such a one as my friend the general.

Her ladyship was just suited to him, and they did in
reality admire each other hugely. Previously to her mar-
riage with the baronet, many love-passages had passed be-
tween her and William Pitt Scully, Esq., the attorney, and
there was especially one story, apropos of certain syllabubs
and Sally-Lunn cakes, which seemed to show that matters
had gone very far. Be this as it may, no sooner did the
general (Major Gorgon he was then) cast an eye on her,
than Scully's five years' fabric of love was instantly dashed
to the ground. She cut him pitilessly, cut Sally Scully,
his sister, her dearest friend and confidante, and bestowed
her big person upon the little aide-de-camp at the end of
a fortnight's wooing. In the course of time, their mutual
fathers died ; the Gorgon estates were unincumbered : pa-
tron of both the seats in the borough of Oldborough, and
occupant of one, Sir George Grinisby Gorgon, baronet,
was a personage of no small importance.

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 407

He was, it scarcely need be said, a Tory ; and this was
the reason why William Pitt Scully, Esq., of the firm of
Perkins and Scully, deserted those principles in which he
had been bred and christened ; deserted that church which
he had frequented, for he could not bear to see Sir John
and my lady flaunting in their grand pew ; — deserted, I
say, the church, adopted the conventicle, and became one
of the most zealous and eloquent supporters that Freedom
has known in our time. Scully, of the house of Scully
and Perkins, was a dangerous enemy. In five years from
that marriage, which snatched from the jilted solicitor his
heart's young affections, Sir George Gorgon found that he
must actually spend seven hundred pounds to keep his two
seats. At the next election, a liberal was set up against
his man, and actually run him hard; and finally, at the
end of eighteen years, the rejected Scully — the mean at-
torney— was actually the first member for Oldborough,
Sir George Grimsby Gorgon, baronet, being only the sec-
ond!

The agony of that day cannot be imagined — the dreadful
curses of Sir George, who saw fifteen hundred a year
robbed from under his very nose — the religious resignation
of my lady — the hideous window-smashing that took place
at the Gorgon Arms, and the discomfiture of the pelted
mayor and corporation. The very next Sunday, Scully was
reconciled to the church (or attended it in the morning,
and the meeting twice in the afternoon), and as Doctor
Snorter uttered the prayer for the high court of parliament,
his eye — the eye of his whole party — turned towards Lady
Gorgon and Sir George in a most unholy triumph. Sir
George (who always stood during prayers, like a military
man) fairly sunk down among the hassocks, and Lady
Gorgon was heard to sob as audibly as ever did little
beadle-belaboured urchin.

Scully, when at Oldborough, came from that day forth
to church. "What," said he, "was it to him? were we
not all brethren? " Old Perkins, however, kept religiously
to the Squaretoes' congregation. In fact, to tell the truth,

18 Vol. 13

408 THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY.

this subject had been debated between the partners, who
saw the advantage of courting both the establishment and
the dissenters — a manoeuvre which, I need not say, is re-
peated in almost every country town in England, where a
solicitor's house has this kind of power and connection.

Three months after this election came the races at Old-
borough, and the race-ball. Gorgon was so infuriated by
this defeat, that he gave "the Gorgon cup and cover," a
matter of fifteen pounds. Scully, "although anxious," as
he wrote from town, " anxious beyond measure to preserve
the breed of horses for which our beloved country has ever
been famous, could attend no such sports as these, which
but too often degenerated into vice." It was voted a
shabby excuse. Lady Gorgon was radiant in her barouche
and four, and gladly became the patroness of the ball that
was to ensue ; and which all the gentry and townspeople,
Tory and Whig, were in the custom of attending. The
ball took place on the last day of the races — on that day,
the walls of the market-house, the principal public build-
ings, and the Gorgon Arms hotel itself, were plastered with
the following —

LETTER FROM OUR DISTINGUISHED REPRESENTATIVE
WILLIAM P. SCULLY, ESQ., ETC. ETC.

" HOUSE OF COMMONS, Wednesday, June 9, 18 — .

"MY DEAR HEELTAP, — You know my opinion about
horse-racing, and though I blame neither you nor any
brother Englishman who enjoys that manly sport, you will,
I am sure, appreciate the conscientious motives which in-
duce me not to appear among my friends and constituents
on the festival of the 3rd, 4th, and 5th instant. If 7, how-
ever, cannot allow my name to appear among your list of
stewards, one at least of the representatives of Oldborough
has no such scruples. Sir George Gorgon is among you :
and though I differ from that honourable baronet on more
than one, vital point, I am glad to think that he is with
you — a gentleman, a soldier, a man of property in the

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

409

county, how can he be better employed than in forwarding
the county's amusements, and in forwarding the happiness
of all?

" Had I no such scruples as those to which I have just
alluded, I must still have refrained from coming among
you. Your great Oldborough common -drainage and in-
closure bill comes on to-night, and I shall be at my post.
I am sure, if Sir George Gorgon were here, he and I
should on this occasion vote side by side, and that party
strife would be forgotten in the object of our common in-
terest— our dear native tmvn.

" There is, however, another occasion at hand, in which
I shall be proud to meet him. Your ball is on the night
of the 6th. Party forgotten — brotherly union — innocent
mirth — beauty, our dear town's beautyy our daughters in
the joy of their expanding loveliness, our matrons in the
exquisite contemplation of their children's bliss, — can you,
can I, can Whig or Tory, can any Briton be indifferent to
a scene like this, or refuse to join in this heart-stirring
festival? If there be such let them pardon me, — I, for
one, my dear Heeltap, will be among you on Friday night,
— ay, and hereby invite all pretty Tory Misses, who are in
want of a partner.

" I am here in the very midst of good things, you know,
and we old folks like a supper after a dance. Please to
accept a brace of bucks and a turtle, which come herewith.
My worthy colleague, who was so liberal last year of his
soup to the poor, will not, I trust, refuse to taste a little of
Alderman Birch's — 'tis offered on my part with hearty
good will. Hey for the 6th, and vive lajoie.
"Ever, my dear Heeltap, your faithful,

"W. PITT SCULLY.

"P.S. Of course this letter is strictly private. Say that
the venison, &c., came from a well-wisher to Oldborough."

This amazing letter was published in defiance of Mr.
Scully's injunctions by the enthusiastic Heeltap, who said
bluntly in a preface, " That he saw no reason why Mr.

410 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

Scully should be ashamed of his action, and he, for his
part, was glad to let all friends at Oldborough know of it."

The allusion about the Gorgon soup was killing ; thirteen
paupers in Oldborough had, it was confidently asserted,
died of it. Lady Gorgon, on the reading of this letter,
was struck completely dumb — Sir George Gorgon was wild
— ten dozen of champagne was he obliged to send down to
the Gorgon Arms, to be added to the festival. He would
have stayed away if he could, but he dared not.

At nine o'clock, he in general's uniform, his wife in blue
satin and diamonds, his daughters in blue crape and white
roses, his niece, Lucy Gorgon, in white muslin, his son,
George Augustus Frederic Grimsby Gorgon, in a blue vel-
vet jacket, sugar-loaf buttons, and nankeens, entered the
north door of the ball-room to much cheering, and the
sound of " God save the King ! "

At that very same moment, and from the south door, is-
sued William Pitt Scully, Esq., M.P., and his staff. Mr.
Scully had a bran new blue coat and brass buttons, buff
waistcoat, white kerseymere tights, pumps with large
rosettes, and pink silk stockings.

"This wool," said he to a friend, "was grown on Old-
borough sheep, this cloth was spun in Oldborough looms,
these buttons were cast in an Oldborough manufactory,
these shoes were made by an Oldborough tradesman, this
heart first beat in Oldborough town, and pray Heaven may
be buried there ! "

Could anything resist a man like this? John Perkins,
who had come down as one of Scully's aides-de-camp, in a
fit of generous enthusiasm, leaped on a whist-table, flung up
a pocket-handkerchief , and shrieked — "SCULLY FOREVER! "

Heeltap, who was generally drunk, fairly burst into
tears, and the grave tradesmen and Whig gentry, who had
dined with the member at his inn, and accompanied him
thence to the Gorgon Arms, lifted their deep voices and
shouted, "Hear! Good! Bravo! Noble! Scully for-
ever! God bless him! and Hurra! "

The scene was turnultuously affecting, and when young

THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY. 411

Perkins sprang down from the table, and came blushing
up to the member, that gentleman said,

"Thank you, Jack! thank you, my boy! THANK you,"
in a way which made Perkins think that his supreme cup
of bliss was quaffed, that he had but to die ; for that life
had no other such joy in store for him. Scully was Per-
kins's Napoleon — he yielded himself up to the attorney,
body and soul.

Whilst this scene was going on under one chandelier of
the ball-room; beneath the other, scarlet little General
Gorgon, sumptuous Lady Gorgon, the daughter and niece
Gorgons were standing, surrounded by their Tory court,
who affected to sneer and titter at the Whig demonstra-
tions which were taking place.

" What a howwid thmell of whithkey ! " lisped Cornet
Fitch of the dragoons to Miss Lucy, confidentially : " and
the the are what they call Whigth, are they? he ! he ! "

" They are drunk — me — drunk by ! " said the Gen-
eral to the mayor.

" Which is Scully? " said Lady Gorgon, lifting her glass
gravely (she was at that very moment thinking of the syl-
labubs) . " Is it that tipsy man in the green coat, or that
vulgar creature in the blue one? "

"Law, my lady!" said the mayoress; "have you for-
gotten him? Why that's him in blue and buff."

"And a monthous fine man, too," said Cornet Fitch; "I
wish we had him in our twoop — he's thix feet thwee, if
he'th an inch; ain't he, genewal? "

No reply.

"And Heavens! mamma," shrieked the three Gorgons
in a breath, " see, one creature is on the whist-table. Oh,
the wretch ! "

"I'm sure he's very good looking," said Lucy, simply.

Lady Gorgon darted at her an angry look, and was
about to say something very contemptuous, when, at that
instant, John Perkins's shout taking effect, Master George
Augustus Frederic Grimsby Gorgon, not knowing better,
incontinently raised a small shout on his side.

412 THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY.

"Hear! good! bravo!" exclaimed he ; "Scully forever!
Hurra-a-a-ay ! " and fell skipping about like the Whigs
opposite.

" Silence, you brute, you ! " groaned Lady Gorgon ; and
seizing him by the shirt- frill and coat-collar, carried him
away to his nurse, who, with many other maids of the
Whig and Tory parties, stood giggling and peeping at the
landing-place.

Fancy how all these small incidents augmented the heap
of Lady Gorgon's anger and injuries! She was a dull
phlegmatic woman, for the most part, and contented her-
self generally with merely despising her neighbours ; but
oh ! what a fine active hatred raged in her bosom for vic-
torious Scully ! At this moment Mr. Perkins had finished
shaking hands with his Napoleon— Napoleon seemed bent
upon some tremendous enterprise. He was looking at
Lady Gorgon very hard.

"She's a fine woman," said Scully, thoughtfully; he
was still holding the hand of Perkins. And then, after
a pause, "Gad! I think I'll try."

"Try what, sir?"

"She's a deuced fine woman! " burst out again the ten-
der solicitor. " I will go. Springer, tell the fiddlers to
strike up."

Springer scuttled across the room, and gave the leader
of the band a knowing nod. Suddenly, "God save the
King " ceased, and " Sir Koger de Coverley " began. The
rival forces eyed each other ; Mr. Scully, accompanied by
his friend, came forward, looking very red, and fumbling
two large kid gloves.

" He's going to ask me to dance" hissed out Lady Gor-
gon, with a dreadful intuition, and she drew back behind
her lord.

"D — it, madam, then dance with him!" said the gen-
eral. " Don't you see that the scoundrel is carrying it all

his own way! — him, and him, and — — him."

(All of which dashes the reader may fill up with oaths of
such strength as may be requisite.)

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 413

" General ! " cried Lady Gorgon, but could say no more.
Scully was before her.

" Madam ! " exclaimed the liberal member for Oldbor-
ough, " in a moment like this — I say — that is — that on the
present occasion — your ladyship — unaccustomed as I am —
pooh, psha — will your ladyship give me the distinguished
honour and pleasure of going down the country-dance with
your ladyship? "

An immense heave of her ladsyhip's ample chest was
perceptible. Yards of blond lace, which might be com-
pared to a foam of the sea, were agitated at the same mo-
ment, and by the same mighty emotion. The river of dia-
monds which flowed round her ladyship's neck, seemed to
swell and to shine more than ever. The tall plumes on
her ambrosial head bowed down beneath the storm. In
other words, Lady Gorgon, in a furious rage, which she
was compelled to restrain, trembled, drew up, and bowing
majestically said,

"Sir, I shall have much pleasure." With this, she ex-
tended her hand. Scully, trembling, thrust forward one
of his huge kid gloves, and led her to the head of the
country-dance. John Perkins, who I presume had been
drinking pretty freely so as to have forgotten his ordinary
bashfulness, looked at the three Gorgons in blue, then at
the pretty smiling one in white, and stepping up to her,
without the smallest hesitation, asked her if she would
dance with him. The young lady smilingly agreed. The
great example of Scully and Lady Gorgon was followed
by all dancing men and women. Political enmities were
forgotten. Whig voters invited Tory voters' wives to the
dance. The daughters of Eef oral accepted the hands of the
sons of Conservatism. The reconciliation of the Komans
and Sabines was not more touching than this sweet fusion.
Whack! whack! Mr. Springer clapped his hands; and
the fiddlers adroitly obeying the cheerful signal, began
playing " Sir Roger de Coverley " louder than ever.

I do not know by what extraordinary charm (nescio qua
prceter solitum, &c.) ; but young Perkins, who all his life

414 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

had hated country-dances, was delighted with this one,
and skipped, and laughed, poussetting, crossing, down-the-
middling, with his merry little partner, till every one of
the bettermost sort of the thirty-nine couples had dropped
panting away, and till the youngest Miss Gorgon, coming
up to his partner, said, in a loud hissing, scornful whis-
per, " Lucy, mamma thinks you have danced quite enough
with this — this person." And Lucy, blushing, starting
back, and looking at Perkins in a very melancholy way,
made him a little curtesy, and went off to the Gorgonian
party with her cousin. Perkins was too frightened to lead
her back to her place — too frightened at first, and then too
angry. " Person ! " said he : his soul swelled with a des-
perate republicanism : he went back to his patron more of
a radical than ever.

He found that gentleman in the solitary tea-room, pacing
up and down before the observant landlady and hand-
maidens of the Gorgon Arms, wiping his brows, gnawing
his fingers — his ears looming over his stiff white shirt-col-
lar, as red as fire. Once more the great man seized John
Perkins's hand as the latter came up.

" D — the aristocrats ! " roared the ex-follower of
Squaretoes.

"And so say I; but what's the matter, sir? "

"What's the matter? — Why, that woman — that infer-
nal haughty, strait-laced, cold-blooded brewer's daughter!
I loved that woman, sir — I kissed that woman, sir, twenty
years ago — we were all but engaged, sir — we've walked for
hours and hours, sir; us and the governess — I've got a
lock of her hair, sir, among my papers now — and to-night,
would you believe it? — as soon as she got to the bottom of
the set, away she went — not one word would she speak to
me all the way down : and when I wanted to lead her to
her place, and asked her if she would have a glass of
negus, i Sir,' says she, ' I have done my duty; I bear no
malice: but I consider you a traitor to Sir George Gor-
gon's family — a traitor and an upstart! I consider your
speaking to me as a piece of insolent vulgarity, and beg

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 415

you will leave me to myself!' There's her speech, sir.
Twenty people heard it, and all of her Tory set, too. I'll
tell you what, Jack, at the next election I'll put you up.
Oh ! that woman ! that woman ! — and to think that I love
her still ! " Here Mr. Scully paused, and fiercely consoled
himself by swallowing three cups of Mrs. Rincer's green
tea.

The fact is, that Lady Gorgon's passion had completely
got the better of her reason. Her ladyship was naturally
cold and artificially extremely squeamish, and when this
great red-faced enemy of hers looked tenderly at her
through his red little eyes, and squeezed her hand, and at-
tempted to renew old acquaintance, she felt such an intol-
erable disgust at his triumph, at his familiarity, and at the
remembrance of her own former liking for him, that she
gave utterance to the speech above correctly reported. The
Tories were delighted with her spirit, and Cornet Fitch,
with much glee, told the story to the general ; but that offi-
cer, who was at whist with some of his friends, flung down
his cards, and coming up to his lady, said briefly,

" Madam, you are a fool ! "

" I will not stay here to be bearded by that disgusting
man! — Mr. Fitch, call my people. — Henrietta, bring Miss
Lucy from that linendraper with whom she is dancing. I
will not stay, general, once for all."

Henrietta ran — she hated her cousin ; Cornet Fitch was
departing. "Stop, Fitch," said Sir George, seizing him
by the arm. — "You are a fool, Lady Gorgon," said he,

"and I repeat it— a fool! This fellow, Scully, is

carrying all before him : he has talked with everybody,
laughed with everybody — and you, with your infernal airs

— a brewer's daughter, by , must sit like a queen, and

not speak to a soul! You've lost me one seat of my bor-
ough, with your infernal pride — fifteen hundred a year, by
Jove ! — and you think you will bully me out of another.
No, madam, you shall stay, and stay supper too — and the
girls shall dance with every cursed chimney-sweep and
butcher in the room : they shall— confound me ! "

416 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

Her ladyship saw that it was necessary to submit ; and
Mr. Springer, the master of the ceremonies, was called,
and requested to point out some eligible partners for the
young ladies. One went off with a whig auctioneer; an-
other figured in a quadrille with a very liberal apothecary,
and the third, Miss Henrietta, remained.

"Hallo! you sir," roared the little general to John Per-
kins who was passing by. John turned round and faced
him.

"You were dancing with my niece just now — show us
your skill now, and dance with one of my daughters.
Stand up, Miss Henrietta Gorgon — Mr. What's-your-
name? "

"My name," said John, with marked and majestic em-
phasis, "is PERKINS," and he looked towards Lucy, who
dared not look again.

"Miss Gorgon — Mr. Perkins. There, now go and
dance."

"Mr. Perkins regrets, madam," said John, making a
bow to Miss Henrietta, " that he is not able to dance this
evening. I am this moment obliged to look to the supper,
but you will find, no doubt, some other PERSON who will
have much pleasure."

"Go to — , sir! " screamed the general, starting up, and
shaking his cane.

"Calm yourself, dearest George," said Lady Gorgon
clinging fondly to him. Fitch twiddled his mustaches.
Miss Henrietta Gorgon stared with open mouth. The silks
of the surrounding dowagers rustled — the countenances of
all looked grave.

" I will follow you, sir, wherever you please ; and you
may hear of me whenever you like," said Mr. Perkins,
bowing and retiring. He heard little Lucy sobbing in a
corner. He was lost at once — lost in love ; he felt as if he
could combat fifty generals ! he never was so happy in his
life!

The supper came ; but as that meal cost five shillings a
head, General Gorgon dismissed the four spinsters of his

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 417

family homewards in the carriage, and so saved himself a
pound. This added to Jack Perkins's wrath; he had
hoped to have seen Miss Lucy once more. He was a stew-
ard, and in the General's teeth, would have done his duty.
He was thinking how he would have helped her to the most
delicate chicken-wings and blanc-manges, how he would
have made her take champagne. Under the noses of in-
dignant aunt and uncle, what glorious fun it would have
been!

Out of place as Mr. Scully's present was, and though
Lady Gorgon and her party sneered at the vulgar notion of
venison and turtle for supper, all the world at Oldborough
ate very greedily of those two substantial dishes ; and the
mayor's wife became from that day forth a mortal enemy
of the Gorgons: for, sitting near her ladyship, who re-
fused the proffered soup and meat, the mayoress thought
herself obliged to follow this disagreeable example. She
sent away the plate of turtle with a sigh, saying, however,
to the baronet's lady, "I thought, mem, that the Lord
Mayor of London always had turtle to his supper."

"And what if he didn't, Biddy?" said his honour the
mayor; "a good thing's a good thing, and here goes!"
wherewith he plunged his spoon into the savoury mess.
The mayoress, as we have said, dared not ; but she hated
Lady Gorgon, and remembered it at the next election.

The pride, in fact, and insolence of the Gorgon party,
rendered every person in the room hostile to them ; so soon
as, gorged with meat, they began to find that courage
which Britons invariably derive from their victuals. The
show of the Gorgon plate seemed to offend the people.
The Gorgon champagne was a long time, too, in making
its appearance. Arrive, however, it did; the people were
waiting for it. The young ladies not accustomed to that
drink, declined pledging their admirers until it was pro-
duced ; the men, too, despised the bucellas and sherry—
and were looking continually towards the door. At last,
Mr. Eincer, the landlord, Mr. Hock, Sir George's butler,
and sundry others, entered the room. Bang went the

418 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

corks — fizz the foamy liquor sparkled into all sorts of
glasses that were held out for its reception. Mr. Hock
helped Sir George and his party, who drank with great
gusto: the wine which was administered to the persons
immediately around Mr. Scully was likewise pronounced
to be good. But Mr. Perkins, who had taken his seat
among the humbler individuals, and in the very middle of
the table, observed that all these persons after drinking,
made to each other very wry and ominous faces, and whis-
pered much. He tasted his wine — it was a villanous com-
pound of sugar, vitriol, soda, water, and green gooseberries.
At this moment a great clatter of forks was made by the
president's and vice-president's party. Silence for a toast
— 'twas silence all.

"Landlord," said Mr. Perkins, starting up (the rogue,
where did his impudence come from?) "have you any
champagne of your own ? "

" Silence ! down ! " roared the Tories, the ladies looking
aghast. " Silence, sit down, you ! " shrieked the well-
known voice of the general.

"I beg your pardon, general," said young John Perkins;
" but where could you have bought this champagne? My
worthy friend I know is going to propose the ladies ; let us
at any rate drink such a toast in good wine." (Hear,
hear!) "Drink her ladyship's health in this stuff? I de-
clare to goodness I would sooner drink it in beer ! "

No pen can describe the uproar which arose ; the anguish
of the Gorgonites — the shrieks, jeers, cheers, ironic cries
of " Swipes, &c. ! " which proceeded from the less genteel,
but more enthusiastic Scullyites.

"This vulgarity is too much," said Lady Gorgon, rising;
and Mrs. Mayoress, and the ladies of the party did so too.

The general, two squires, the clergyman, the Gorgon
apothecary and attorney, with their respective ladies, fol-
lowed her — they were plainly beaten from the field. Such
of the Tories as dared remained, and in inglorious com-
promise shared the jovial Whig feast.

"Gentlemen and ladies," hiccupped Mr. Heeltap, "I'll

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

419

give you a toast, l Champagne to our real — hie — friends/
no, ' real champagne to our friends/ and — hie — pooh!
'Champagne to our friends, and real pain to our enemies,'
— huzzay ! "

The Scully faction on this day bore the victory away,
and if the polite reader has been shocked by certain vul-
garities on the part of Mr. Scully and his friends, he must
remember imprimis that Oldborough was an inconsiderable
place — that the inhabitants thereof were chiefly trades-
people, not of refined habits — that Mr. Scully himself had
only for three months mingled among the aristocracy — that
his young friend, Perkins, was violently angry — and finally,
and to conclude, that the proud vulgarity of the great Sir
George Gorgon and his family, were infinitely more odious
and contemptible than the mean vulgarity of the Scullyites
and their leader.

Immediately after this event, Mr. Scully and his young
friend, Perkins, returned to town ; the latter to his garrets
in Bedford-row — the former to his apartments on the first
floor of the same house. He lived here to superintend his
legal business; his London agents, Messrs. Higgs, Biggs,
& Blatherwick, occupying the ground-floor — the junior
partner, Mr. Gustavus Blatherwick, the second-flat of the
house. Scully made no secret of his profession or residence
— he was an attorney, and proud of it — he was the grand-
son of a labourer, and thanked God for it — he had made
his fortune by his own honest labour, and why should he be
ashamed of it?

And now, having explained at full length who the sev-
eral heroes and heroines of this history were, and how they
conducted themselves in the country, let us describe their
behaviour in London, and the great events which occurred
there.

You must know that Mr. Perkins bore away the tender-
est recollections of the young lady with whom he had
danced at the Oldborough ball, and, having taken particu-
lar care to find out where she dwelt when in the metropolis,
managed soon to become acquainted with aunt Biggs, and

420 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

made himself so amiable to that lady, that she begged he
would pass all his disengaged evenings at her lodgings in
Caroline-place. Mrs. Biggs was perfectly aware that the
young gentleman did not come for her bohea and muffins,
so much as for the sweeter conversation of her niece, Miss
Gorgon ; but seeing that these two young people were of
an age when ideas of love and marriage will spring up, do
what you will ; seeing that her niece had a fortune, and
Mr. Perkins had the prospect of a place, and was moreover
a very amiable and well-disposed young fellow, she thought
her niece could not do better than marry him ; and Miss
Gorgon thought so too. Now the public will be able to
understand the meaning of that important conversation
which is recorded at the very commencement of this his-
tory.

Lady Gorgon and her family were likewise in town ; but
when in the metropolis, they never took notice of their
relative, Miss Lucy; the idea of acknowledging an ex-
schoolmistress, living in Mecklenburgh-square, being much
too preposterous for a person of my Lady Gorgon's breed-
ing and fashion. She did not, therefore, know of the
progress which sly Perkins was making all this while ; for
Lucy Gorgon did not think it was at all necessary to in-
form her ladyship how deeply she was smitten by the
wicked young gentleman, who had made all the disturb-
ance at the Oldborough ball.

The intimacy of these young persons had, in fact, be-
come so close, that on a certain sunshiny Sunday in De-
cember, after having accompanied aunt Biggs to church,
they had pursued their walk as far as that rendezvous of
lovers — the Regent's Park, and were talking of their com-
ing marriage with much confidential tenderness, before the
bears in the Zoological Gardens.

Miss Lucy was ever and anon feeding those interesting
animals with buns, to perform which act of charity she
had clambered up on the parapet which surrounds their
den. Mr. Perkins was below ; and Miss Lucy, having dis-
tributed her buns, was on the point of following,— but

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 421

whether from timidity, or whether from a desire to do
young Perkins an essential service, I know not ; however,
she found herself quite unwilling to jump down unaided.

"My dearest John," said she, "I never can jump that."

Whereupon, John stepped up, put one hand round
Lucy's waist; and as one of hers gently fell upon his
shoulder, Mr. Perkins took the other, and said, —

"Now jump."

Hoop! jump she did, and so excessively active and
clever was Mr. John Perkins, that he jumped Miss Lucy
plump into the middle of a group formed of

Lady Gorgon,

The Misses Gorgon,

Master George Augustus Frederic Grimsby Gorgon,

And a footman, poodle, and French governess, who had
all been for two or three minutes listening to the billings
and cooings of these imprudent young lovers.

422 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

CHAPTER II.

SHOWS HOW THE PLOT BEGAN TO THICKEN IN OR
ABOUT BEDFORD-ROW.

"Miss LUCY!"

" Upon iny word ! "

"I'm hanged if it arn't Lucy! How do, Lucy?" ut-
tered Lady, the Misses, and Master Gorgon in a breath.

Lucy came forward, bending down her ambrosial curls,
and blushing, as a modest young woman should; for, in
truth, the scrape was very awkward, and as for John Per-
kins, he made a start, and then a step forwards, and then
two backwards, and then began laying hands upon his
black satin stock — in shbrt, the sun did not shine at that
moment upon a man who looked so exquisitely foolish.

" Miss Lucy Gorgon, is your aunt — is Mrs. Briggs here? "
said Gorgon, drawing herself up with much state.

" Mrs. Biggs, aunt," said Lucy demurely.

"Biggs or Briggs, madam, it is not of the slightest con-
sequence. I presume that persons in my rank of life are
not expected to know everybody's name in Magdeburg-
square? " (Lady Gorgon had a house in Baker-street, and
a dismal house it was. ) " Not here," continued she, rightly
interpreting Lucy's silence, "NOT here?— and may I ask
how long is it that young ladies have been allowed to walk
abroad without chaperons, and to — to take a part in such
scenes as that which we have just seen acted? "

To this question — and indeed it was rather difficult to
answer — Miss Gorgon had no reply. There were the six
grey eyes of her cousins glowering at her — there was
George Augustus Frederic examining her with an air of
extreme wonder, Mademoiselle the governess turning her
looks demurely away, and awful Lady Gorgon glancing

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

423

fiercely at her in front. Not mentioning the footman and
poodle, what could a poor, modest, timid girl plead be-
fore such an inquisition, especially when she was clearly
guilty? Add to this, that as Lady Gorgon, that majestic
woman, always remarkable for her size and insolence of
demeanour, had planted herself in the middle of the path,
and spoke at the extreme pitch of her voice, many persons
walking in the neighbourhood had heard her ladyship's
speech and stopped, and seemed disposed to await the re-
joinder.

"For Heaven's sake, aunt, don't draw a crowd around
us," said Lucy, who, indeed, was glad of the only escape
that lay in her power. " I will tell you of the — of the
circumstances of — of my engagement with this gentleman
— with Mr. Perkins," added she, in a softer tone — so soft
that the 'erkins was quite inaudible.

"A Mr. What? An engagement without consulting
your guardians ! " screamed her ladyship, " this must be
looked to! Jerningham, call round my carriage. Made-
moiselle, you will have the goodness to walk home with
Master Gorgon, and carry him if you please, where there
is wet; and, girls, as the day is fine, you will do likewise.
Jerningham, you will attend the young ladies. Miss Gor-
gon, I will thank you to follow me immediately ; " and so
saying, and looking at the crowd with ineffable scorn, and
at Mr. Perkins not at all, the lady bustled away forwards,
the files of Gorgon daughters and governess closing round
and enveloping poor Lucy, who found herself carried for-
ward against her will, and in a minute seated in her aunt's
coach, along with that tremendous person.

Her case was bad enough, but what was it to Perkins's?
Fancy his blank surprise and rage at having his love thus
suddenly ravished from him, and his delicious tete-a-tete
interrupted. He managed, in an inconceivably short space
of time, to conjure up half a million obstacles to his union.
What should he do? he would rush on to Baker-street, and
wait there until his Lucy left Lady Gorgon's house.

He could find no vehicle for him in the Regent's Park,

424 THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY.

and was in consequence obliged to make his journey on
foot. Of course, lie nearly killed himself with running,
and ran BO quick, that he was just in time to see the two
ladies step out of Lady Gorgon's carriage at her own
house, and to hear Jerningham's fellow-footman roar to
the Gorgonian coachman, "Half -past seven!" at which
hour we are, to this day, convinced that Lady Gorgon was
going out to dine. Mr. Jerningham's associate having
banged to the door, with an insolent look towards Perkins,
who was prying in with the most suspicious and indecent
curiosity, retired, exclaiming, " That chap has a hi to our
greatcoats, I reckon ! " and left John Perkins to pace the
street and be miserable.

John Perkins then walked resolutely up and down dis-
mal Baker- street, determined on an eclaircissement. He
was for some time occupied in thinking how it was that the
Gorgons were not at church, they who made such a parade
of piety ; and John Perkins smiled as he passed the chapel,
and saw that two charity sermons were to be preached
that day — and therefore it was that General Gorgon read
prayers to his family at home in the morning.

Perkins, at last, saw that little general, in blue frock-
coat and spotless buff gloves, saunter scowling home ; and
half an hour before his arrival, had witnessed the entrance
of Jerningham, and the three gaunt Miss Gorgons, poodle,
son-and-heir, and French governess, protected by him, into
Sir George's mansion.

" Can she be going to stay all night? " mused poor John,
after being on the watch for three hours, " that footman is
the only person who has left the house," when presently, to
his inexpressible delight, he saw a very dirty hackney-
coach clatter up to the Gorgon door, out of which first
issued the ruby plush breeches and stalwart calves of Mr.
Jerningham ; these were followed by his body, and then
the gentleman, ringing modestly, was admitted.

Again the door opened — a lady came out, nor was she
followed by the footman, who crossed his legs at the door-
post, and allowed her to mount the jingling vehicle as best

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 425

she might. Mr. Jerningham had witnessed the scene in
the Park-gardens, had listened to the altercation through
the library keyhole, and had been mighty sulky at being
ordered to call a coach for this young woman. He did
not therefore deign to assist her to mount.

But there was one who did ! Perkins was by the side of
his Lucy: he had seen her start back, and cry, "La,
John ! " — had felt her squeeze his arm — had mounted with
her into the coach, and then shouted with a voice of thun-
der to the coachman, " Caroline-place, Mecklenburgh-
square."

But Mr. Jerningham would have been much more sur-
prised and puzzled if he had waited one minute longer, and
seen this Mr. Perkins, who had so gallantly escaladed the
hackney-coach, step out of it with the most mortified, mis-
erable, chapfallen countenance possible.

The fact is, he had found poor Lucy sobbing fit to break
her heart, and instead of consoling her as he expected, he
only seemed to irritate her further: for she said, "Mr.
Perkins — I beg — I insist, that you leave the carriage ; "
and when Perkins made some movement (which, not being
in the vehicle at the time, we have never been able to com-
prehend), she suddenly sprung from the back-seat, and
began pulling at a large piece of cord, which communicated
with the wrisfc of the gentleman driving; and, screaming
to him at the top of her voice, bade him immediately stop.

This Mr. Coachman did, with a curious, puzzled, grin-
ning air.

Perkins descended, and on being asked, " Vere ham I to
drive the young 'onian, sir?" I am sorry to say muttered
something like an oath, and uttered the above-mentioned
words, "Caroline-place, Mecklenburgh-square," in a tone
which I should be inclined to describe as both dogged and
sheepish, — very different from that cheery voice which he
had used when he first gave the order.

Poor Lucy, in the course of those fatal three hours
which had passed while Mr. Perkins was pacing up and
down Baker-street, had received a lecture which lasted

426 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY

exactly one hundred and eighty minutes — from her aunt
first, then from her uncle, whom we have seen marching
homewards, and often from both together

Sir George Gorgon and his lady poured out such a flood
of advice and abuse against the poor girl, that she came
away from the interview quite timid and cowering; and
when she saw John Perkins (the sly rogue ! how well he
thought he had managed the trick !) she shrunk from him
as if he had been a demon of wickedness, ordered him out
of the carriage, and went home by herself, convinced that
she had committed some tremendous sin.

While, then, her coach jingled away to Caroline -place,
Perkins, once more alone, bent his steps in the same direc-
tion— a desperate heart- stricken man — he passed by the
beloved's door — saw lights in the front drawing-room —
felt probably that she was there — but he could not go in.
Moodily he paced down Doughty-street, and turning
abruptly into Bedford-row, rushed into his own chambers,
where Mrs. Snooks, the laundress, had prepared his hum-
ble Sabbath meal.

A cheerful fire blazed in his garret, and Mrs. Snooks had
prepared for him the favourite blade-bone he loved (blest
four days' dinner for a bachelor, roast, cold, hashed, grilled
blade-bone, the fourth being better than the first) ; but al-
though he usually did rejoice in this meal, ordinarily, in-
deed, grumbling that there was not enough to satisfy him
— he, on this occasion, after two mouthfuls, flung down his
knife and fork, and buried his two claws in his hair.

"Snooks," said he at last, very moodily, "remove this
d — mutton, give me my writing things, and some hot
bran dy-and- water. "

This was done without much alarm, for you must know
that Perkins used to dabble in poetry, and ordinarily pre-
pared himself for composition by this kind of stimulus.

He wrote hastily a few lines.

"Snooks, put on your bonnet," said he, "and carry this
— you know where ? " he added, in such a hollow, heart-
breaking tone of voice, that affected poor Snooks almost to

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 427

tears. She went, however, with the note, which was to
this purpose : —

"Lucy! Lucy! my soul's love— what, what has hap-
pened? I ani writing this (a gulp of brandy-and-water) in
a state bordering on distraction — madness — insanity (an-
other). Why did you send me out of the coach in that
cruel, cruel way? Write to me a word, a line— tell me,
tell me, I may come to you — and leave me not in this
agonising condition ; your faithful (glog — glog>—glog, — the
whole glass). J. P."

He never signed John Perkins in full — he couldn't, it
was so unromantic.

Well, this missive was despatched by Mrs. Snooks, and
Perkins, in a fearful state of excitement, haggard, wild,
and with more brandy-and-water, awaited the return of his
messenger.

When at length, after about an absence of forty years, as
it seemed to him, the old lady returned with a large packet,
Perkins seized it with a trembling hand, and was yet more
frightened to see the handwriting of Mrs. or Miss Biggs.

"My dear Mr. Perkins," she began, "although I am not
your soul's adored, I performed her part for once, since I
have read your letter, as I told her ; — you need not be very
much alarmed, although Lucy is at this moment in bed and
unwell, for the poor girl has had a sad scene at her grand
uncle's house in Baker-street, and came home very much
affected. Rest, however, will restore her, for she is not
one of your nervous sort, and I hope when you come in the
morning, you will see her as blooming as she was when
you went out to-day on that unlucky walk.

"See what Sir George Gorgon says of us all! You
won't challenge him I know, as he is to be your uncle, and
so I may show you his letter.

" Good night, my dear John ; do not go quite distracted
before morning; and believe me your loving aunt,

"BARBARA BIGGS."

428 THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY.

" BAKER STREET, llth December.

"Major-General Sir George Gorgon has heard with the
utmost disgust and surprise of the engagement which Miss
Lucy Gorgon has thought fit to form.

"The major-general cannot conceal his indignation at
the share which Miss Biggs has taken in this disgraceful
transaction.

" Sir George Gorgon puts an absolute veto upon all fur-
ther communication between his niece and the low-born ad-
venturer who has been admitted into her society, and begs
to say that Lieutenant Fitch, of the Life Guards, is the
gentleman who he intends shall marry Miss Gorgon.

"It is the major-general's wish, that on the 28th Miss
Gorgon should be ready to come to his house, in Baker-
street, where she will be more safe from impertinent intru-
sions than she has been in Muckle bury-square.
"Mrs. Biggs,

" Caroline-place,

" Mecklenburgh-square."

When poor John Perkins read this epistle, blank rage
and wonder filled his soul, at the audacity of the little
general, who thus, without the smallest title in the world,
pretended to dispose of the hand and fortune of his niece.
The fact is, that Sir George had such a transcendent notion
of his own dignity and station, that it never for a moment
entered his head that his niece, or anybody else connected
with him, should take a single step in life without pre-
viously receiving his orders, and Mr. Fitch, a baronet's
son, having expressed an admiration of Lucy, Sir George
had determined that his suit should be accepted, and really
considered Lucy's preference of another as downright
treason.

John Perkins determined on the death of Fitch as the
very least reparation that should satisfy him ; and vowed
too that some of the general's blood should be shed for the
words which he had dared to utter.

We have said that William Pitt Scully, Esq., M.P., oc-

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 429

cupied the first floor of Mr. Perkins's house, in Bedford-
row ; and the reader is further to be informed that an
immense friendship had sprung up between these two gen-
tlemen. The fact is, that poor John was very much nat-
tered by Scully's notice, and began in a very short time to
fancy himself a political personage ; for he had made sev-
eral of Scully's speeches, written more than one letter from
him to his constituents, and, in a word, acted as his gratis
clerk. At least a guinea a-week did Mr. Perkins save to
the pockets of Mr. Scully, and with hearty good will too,
for he adored the great William Pitt, and believed every
word that dropped from the pompous lips of that gentle-
man.

Well, after having discussed Sir George Gorgon's letter,
poor Perkins, in the utmost fury of mind that his darling
should be slandered so, feeling a desire for fresh air, de-
termined to descend to the garden, and smoke a cigar in
that rural, quiet spot. The night was very calm. The
moonbeams slept softly upon the herbage of Gray's Inn-
gardens, and bathed with silver splendour Theobald' s-row.
A million of little frisky twinkling stars attended their
queen, who looked with bland round face upon their gam-
bols, as they peeped in and out from the azure heavens;
Along Gray's Inn wall a lazy row of cabs stood listlessly,
for who would call a cab on such a night? Meanwhile
their drivers, at the alehouse near, smoked the short pipe
or quaffed the foaming beer. Perhaps from Gray's Inn-
lane some broken sounds of Irish revelry might rise. Issu-
ing perhaps from Raymond-buildings gate, six lawyers'
clerks might whoop a tipsy song — or the loud watchman
yell the passing hour — but beyond this all was silence, and
young Perkins, as he sat in the summer-house at the bot-
tom of the garden, and contemplated the peaceful heaven,
felt some influences of it entering into his soul, and almost
forgetting revenge, thought but of peace and love.

Presently, he was aware there was some one else pacing
the garden. Who could it be?— Not Blatherwick, for he
passed the Sabbath with his grandmamma at Clapham —

430 THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY.

not Scully surely, for he always went to Bethesda chapel,
and to a select prayer-meeting afterwards. Alas ! it was
Scully — for though that gentleman said that he went to
chapel, we have it for a fact that he did not always keep
his promise, and was at this moment employed in rehears-
ing an extempore speech, which he proposed to deliver at
St. Stephen's.

" Had I, sir, " spouted he, with folded arms, slowly pac-
ing to and fro, " had I, sir, entertained the smallest possible
intention of addressing the House on the present occasion
—hum, on the present occasion — I would have endeav-
oured to prepare myself in a way that should have at least
shown my sense of the .greatness of the subject before the
House's consideration, and the nature of the distinguished
audience I have the honour to address. I am, sir, a plain
man — born of the people — myself one of the people, hav-
ing won, thank Heaven, an honourable fortune and posi-
tion by my own honest labour ; and standing here as I

do—"

# # # * #

Here Mr. Scully (it may be said that he never made a
speech without bragging about himself, and an excellent
plan it is, for people cannot help believing you at last) —
here, I say, Mr. Scully, who had one arm raised, felt him-
self suddenly tipped on the shoulder, and heard a voice
saying, " Your money or your life ! "

The honourable gentleman twirled round as if he had
been shot — the papers on which a great part of this im-
promptu were written dropped from his lifted hand, and
some of them were actually borne on the air into neighbour-
ing gardens. The man was, in fact, in the direst fright.

" It's only I," said Perkins, with rather a forced laugh,
when he saw the effect that his wit had produced.

"Only you! And pray what the dev — what right have
you to — to come upon a man of my rank in that way, and
disturb me in the midst of very important meditations? n
asked Mr. Scully, beginning to grow fierce.

"I want your advice," said Perkins, "on a matter of the

THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY. 431

very greatest importance to me. You know my idea of
marrying? "

"Marry!" said Scully; "I thought you had given up
that silly scheme. And how, pray, do you intend to live? "

" Why my intended has a couple of hundreds a year, and
my clerkship in the Tape-and-Sealing-Wax Office will be
as much more."

" Clerkship — Tape-and-Sealing-Wax Office — government
sinecure ! — Why, good Heavens ! John Perkins, you don't
tell me that you are going to accept any such thing? "

" It is a very small salary, certainly," said John, who
had a decent notion of his own merits ; " but consider, six
months' vacation, two hours in the day, and those spent
over the newspapers. After all, it's " ,

"After all, it's a swindle," roared out Mr. Scully, "a
swindle upon the country ; an infamous tax upon the peo-
ple, who starve that you may fatten in idleness. But take
this clerkship in the Tape-and-Sealing-Wax Office," con-
tinued the patriot, his bosom heaving with noble indigna-
tion, and his eye flashing the purest fire, — " Take this
clerkship, John Perkins, and sanction tyranny, by becom-
ing one of its agents ; sanction dishonesty by sharing in its
plunder — do this, BUT never more be friend of mine. Had
I a child," said the patriot, clasping his hands and raising
his eyes to heaven, " I would rather see him — dead, sir —
dead, dead at my feet, than the servant of a government
which all honest men despise ; " and here giving a search-
ing glance at Perkins, Mr. Scully began tramping up and
down the garden in a perfect fury.

" Good Heavens ! " exclaimed the timid John Perkins —
" don't say so. My dear Mr. Scully, I'm not the dishonest
character you suppose me to be — I never looked at the
matter in this light. I'll — I'll consider of it. I'll tell
Crarnpton that I will give up the place ; but for Heaven's
sake, don't let me forfeit your friendship, which is dearer
to me than any place in the world."

Mr. Scully pressed his hand, and said nothing; and
though their interview lasted a full half hour longer, dur-
J9 Vol. 13

432 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

ing which they paced up and down the gravel-walk, we
shall not breathe a single syllable of their conversation, as
it has nothing to do with our tale.

The next morning, after an interview with Miss Lucy,
John Perkins, Esq., was seen to issue from Mrs. Biggs'
house, looking particularly pale, melancholy, and thought-
ful ; and he did not stop until he reached a certain door in
Downing-street, where was the office of a certain great
minister, and the offices of the clerks in his lordship's de-
partment.

The head of them was Mr. Josiah Crampton, who has
now to be introduced to the public. He was a little old
gentleman, some sixty years of age, maternal uncle to John
Perkins ; a bachelor, who had been about forty-two years
employed in the department of which he was now the head.

After waiting four hours in an ante-room, where a num-
ber of Irishmen, some newspaper editors, many pompous-
looking political personages, asking for the " first lord ; " a
few sauntering clerks, and numbers of swift active mes-
sengers passed to and fro. After waiting for four hours,
making drawings on the blotting-book, and reading the
Morning Post for that day week, Mr. Perkins was in-
formed that he might go into his uncle's room, and did so
accordingly.

He found a little hard old gentleman seated at a table
covered with every variety of sealing-wax, blotting-paper,
envelopes, despatch-boxes, green-tapers, &c. &c. An im-
mense fire was blazing in the grate, an immense sheet-
almanac hung over that, a screen, three or four chairs, and
a faded Turkey carpet formed the rest of the furniture of
this remarkable room, which I have described thus particu-
larly, because, in the course of a long official life, I have
remarked that such is the invariable decoration of political
rooms.

" Well, John," said the little hard old gentleman, point-
ing to an arm-chair, "I'm told you've been here since
eleven. Why the deuce do you come so early? "

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 433

"I had important business," answered Mr. Perkins,
stoutly ; and as his uncle looked up with a comical expres-
sion of wonder, John began in a solemn tone to deliver a
little speech which he had composed, and which proved
him to be a very worthy, easy, silly fellow.

" Sir, " said Mr. Perkins, " you have known for some
time past the nature of my political opinions, and the in-
timacy which I have had the honour to form with one —
with some of the leading members of the liberal party.
(A grin from Mr. Crampton.) When first, by your kind-
ness, I was promised the clerkship in the Tape-and- Seal-
ing- Wax Office, my opinions were not formed as they are
now ; and having taken the advice of the gentlemen with
whom I act, — (an enormous grin,) — the advice, I say, of
the gentlemen with whom I act, and the counsel likewise
of my own conscience, I am compelled, with the deepest
grief j to say, my dear uncle, that I — I —

"That you — what, sir? " exclaimed little Mr. Crampton,
bouncing off his chair. "You don't mean to say that you
are such a fool as to decline the place? "

"I do decline the place," said Perkins, whose blood rose
at the word " fool ; " " as a man of honour, I cannot take
it."

"Not take it! and how are you to live? On the rent
of that house of yours? For by gad, sir, if you give up
the clerkship, I never will give you a shilling. "

"It cannot be helped," said Mr. Perkins, looking as
much like a martyr as he possibly could, and thinking
himself a very fine fellow. " I have talents, sir, which I
hope to cultivate; and am member of a profession by
which a man may hope to rise to the very highest offices
of the state."

" Prof ession, talents, offices of the state ! Are you mad,
John Perkins, that you come to me with such insufferable
twaddle as this? Why, do you think if you had been
capable of rising at the bar, I would have taken so much
trouble about getting you a place? No, sir; you are too
fond of pleasure, and bed, and tea-parties, and small-talk,

434 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

and reading novels, and playing the flute, and writing son-
nets. You would no more rise at the bar than my messen-
ger, sir ; it was because I knew your disposition — that hope-
less, careless, irresolute, good humour of yours, that I had
determined to keep you Out of danger, by placing you in a
snug shelter, where the storms of the world would not
come near you. You must have principles, forsooth ! and
you must marry Miss Gorgon, of course ; and by the time
you have gone ten circuits, and had six children, you will
have eaten up every shilling of your wife's fortune, and be
as briefless as you are now. Who the deuce has put all
this nonsense into your head? I think I know."

Mr. Perkins's ears tingled as these hard words saluted
them ; and he scarcely knew whether he ought to knock
his uncle down or fall at his feet, and say, " Uncle, I have
been a fool, and I know it." The fact is, that in his in-
terview with Miss Gorgon and her aunt in the morning,
when he came to tell them of the resolution he had formed
to give up the place, both the ladies and John himself had
agreed, with a thousand rapturous tears and exclamations,
that he was one of the noblest young men that ever lived,
had acted as became himself, and might with perfect pro-
priety give up the place, his talents being so prodigious that
no power on earth could hinder him from being lord chan-
cellor. Indeed, John and Lucy had always thought the
clerkship quite beneath him, and were not a little glad,
perhaps, at finding a pretext for decently refusing it. But
as Perkins was a young gentleman whose candour was such
that he was always swayed by the opinions of the last
speaker, he did begin to feel now the truth of his uncle's
statements, however disagreeable they might be.

Mr. Crampton continued:—

"I think I know the cause of your patriotism. Has not
William Pitt Scully, Esq., had something to do with it? "

Mr. Perkins could not turn any redder than he was, but
confessed with deep humiliation that "he had consulted
Mr. Scully, among other friends."

Mr. Crampton smiled — drew a letter from a heap before

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 435

iim, and tearing off the signature, handed over the docu-
ment to his nephew. It contained the following para-
graphs : —

" Hawksby has sounded Scully : we can have him any
day we want him. He talks very big at present, and says
he would not take anything under a * * *. This is
absurd. He has a Yorkshire nephew coming up to town,
and wants a place for him. There is one vacant in the
Tape Office, he says : have you not a promise of it? "

"I can't — I can't believe it," said John; "this, sir, is
some weak invention of the enemy. Scully is the most
honourable man breathing."

" Mr. Scully is a gentleman in a very fair way to make
a fortune," answered Mr. Crampton. " Look you, John —
it is just as well for your sake that I should give you the
news a few weeks before the papers, for I don't want you
to be ruined, if I can help it, as I don't wish to have you
on my hands. We know all the particulars of Scully's
history. He was a Tory attorney at Oldborough ; he was
jilted by the present Lady Gorgon! turned Kadical, and
fought Sir George in his own borough. Sir George would
have had the peerage he is dying for, had he not lost that
second seat (by-the-by, my lady will be here in five min-
utes), and Scully is now quite firm there. Well, my dear
lad, we have bought your incorruptible Scully. Look
here," — and Mr. Crampton produced three Morning Posts.

"'THE HONOURABLE HENRY HAWKSBY'S DINNER
PARTY.— Lord So-and-So— Duke of So-and-So— W. Pitt
Scully, Esq., M.P.'

" Hawksby is our neutral, our dinner-giver.

"'LADY DIANA DOLDRUM'S ROUT. — W. Pitt Scully
Esq., again.'

" ' THE EARL OF MANTRAP'S GRAND DINNER. — A Duke
— four lords — Mr. Scully, and Sir George Gorgon.' '

"Well, but I don't see how you have bought him; look
at his votes."

"My dear John," said Mr. Crampton, jingling his watch-
seals very complacently, "I am letting you into fearful

436 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

secrets. The great common end of party is to buy your
opponents — the great statesman buys them for nothing."

Here the attendant genius of Mr. Crampton made his
appearance, and whispered something, to which the little
gentleman said, "Show her ladyship in," — when the at-
tendant disappeared.

"John," said Mr. Crampton, with a very queer smile,
"you can't stay in this room while Lady Gorgon is with
me ; but there is a little clerk's room behind the screen
there, where you can wait until I call you."

John retired, and as he closed the door of communica-
tion, strange to say, little Mr. Crampton sprung up and
said, " Confound the young ninny, he has shut the door ! "

Mr. Crampton then, remembering that he wanted a map
in the next room, sprang into it, left the door half open in
coming out, and was in time to receive her ladyship with
smiling face as she, ushered by Mr. Strongitharm, majes-
tically sailed in.

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 437

CHAPTEE III.

BEHIND THE SCENES.

IN issuing from, and leaving open, the door of the inner
room, Mr. Crampton had bestowed upon Mr. Perkins a
look so peculiarly arch, that even he, simple as he was,
began to imagine that some mystery was about to be
cleared up, or some mighty matter to be discussed. Pres-
ently he heard the well-known voice of Lady Gorgon in
conversation with his uncle. What could their talk be
about? Mr. Perkins was dying to know, and, shall we
say it? advanced to the door on tiptoe and listened with
all his might.

Her ladyship, that Juno of a woman, if she had not bor-
rowed Venus' s girdle to render herself irresistible, at least
had adopted a tender, coaxing, wheedling, frisky tone,
quite different from her ordinary dignified style of conver-
sation. She called Mr. Crampton a naughty man, for neg-
lecting his old friends, vowed that Sir George was quite
hurt at his not coming to dine — nor fixing a day when he
would come — and added with a most engaging ogle, that
she had three fine girls at home, who would perhaps make
an evening pass pleasantly, even to such a gay bachelor as
Mr. Crampton.

" Madam, " said he, with much gravity, " the daughters
of such a mother must be charming, but I, who have seen
your ladyship, am, alas! proof against even them."

Both parties here heaved tremendous sighs, and affected
to be wonderfully unhappy about something.

"I wish," after a pause, said Lady Gorgon — "I wish,
dear Mr. Crampton, you would not use that odious title
'my ladyship/ you know it always makes me melancholy."

" Melancholy, my dear Lady Gorgon, and why? "

438 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

" Because it makes me think of another title that ought
to have been mine — ours (I speak for dear Sir George's
and my darling boy's sake, Heaven knows, not mine).
What a sad disappointment it has been to my husband,
that after all his services, all the promises he has had,
they have never given him his peerage. As for me, you
know "

" For you, my dear madam, I know quite well that you
care for no such bauble as a coronet, except in so far as it
may confer honour upon those most dear to you — excellent
wife and noble mother as you are. Heigho! what a happy
man is Sir George ! "

Here there was another pause, and if Mr. Perkins could
have seen what was taking place behind the screen, he
would have beheld little Mr. Crampton looking into Lady
Gorgon's face, with as love-sick a Romeo-gaze as he could
possibly counterfeit, while her ladyship, blushing somewhat
and turning her own grey gogglers up to heaven, received
all his words for gospel, and sat fancying herself to be the
best, most meritorious, and most beautiful creature in the
three kingdoms.

"You men are terrible flatterers," continued she, "but
you say right, for myself I value not these empty distinc-
tions. I am growing old, Mr. Crampton, — yes, indeed, I
am, although you smile so incredulously, — and let me add,
that my thoughts are fixed upon higher things than earthly
crowns. But tell me, you who are all-in-all with Lord
Bagwig, are we never to have our peerage? His majesty,
I know, is not averse ; the services of dear Sir George to a
member of his majesty's august family, I know, have been
appreciated in the highest quarter. Ever since the peace
we have had a promise. Four hundred pounds has Sir
George spent at the heralds' office, (I, myself, am of one
of the most ancient families in the kingdom, Mr. Cramp-
ton,) and the poor dear man's health is really ruined by
the anxious, sickening feeling of hope so long delayed. "

Mr. Crampton now assumed an air of much solemnity.

"My dear Lady Gorgon," said he, "will you let me be

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 439

frank with you, and will you promise solemnly that what
I am going to tell you shall never be repeated to a single
soul? "

Lady Gorgon promised.

" Well, then, since the truth you must know, you your-
selves have been in part the cause of the delay of which
you complain. You gave us two votes five years ago, you
now only give us one. If Sir George were to go up to the
Peers, we should lose even that one vote ; and would it be
common sense in us to incur such a loss? Mr. Scully, the
Liberal, would return another member of his own way of
thinking ; and as for the Lords, we have, you know, a ma-
jority there."

" Oh, that horrid man ! " said Lady Gorgon, cursing Mr.
Scully in her heart, and beginning to play a rapid tattoo
with her feet, " that miscreant, that traitor, that — that at-
torney has been our ruin."

" Horrid man if you please, but give me leave to tell you
that the horrid man is not the sole cause of your ruin — if
ruin you will call it. I am sorry to say that I do candidly
think ministers think that Sir George Gorgon has lost his
influence in Oldborough as much through his own fault, as
through Mr. Scully 's cleverness."

" Our own fault ! ' Good heavens ! Have we not done
everything — everything that persons of our station in the
county could do, to keep those misguided men? Have we
not remonstrated, threatened, taken away our custom from
the mayor, established a Conservative apothecary — in fact
done all that gentlemen could do? But these are such
times, Mr. Crampton, the spirit of revolution is abroad,
and the great families of England are menaced by demo-
cratic insolence."

This was Sir George Gorgon's speech always after dinner,
and was delivered by his lady with a great deal of stateli-
ness. Somewhat, perhaps, to her annoyance, Mr. Cramp-
ton only smiled, shook his head, and said —

"Nonsense, my dear Lady Gorgon — pardon the phrase,
but I am a plain old man, and call things by their names.

440 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

Now, will you let me whisper in your ear one word of
truth? You have tried all sorts of remonstrances, and
exerted yourself to maintain your influence in every way,
except the right one, and that is ! "

" What, in Heaven's name? "

"Conciliation. We know your situation in the borough.
Mr. Scully's whole history, and, pardon me for saying so
(but we men in office know everything), yours —

Lady Gorgon's ears and cheeks now assumed the hottest
hue of crimson. She thought of her former passages with
Scully, and of the days when — but never mind when, for
she suffered her veil to fall, and buried her head in the
folds of her handkerchief. Vain folds ! The wily little
Mr. Crarnpton could see all that passed behind the cambric,
and continued —

"Yes, madam, we know the absurd hopes that were
formed by a certain attorney twenty years since. We
know how, up to this moment, he boasts of certain
walks "

" With the governess — we were always with the gover-
ness! " shrieked out Lady Gorgon, clasping her hands.
"She was not the wisest of women."

"With the governess, of course," said Mr. Crampton,
firmly. " Do you suppose that any man dare breathe a syl-
lable against your spotless reputation? Never, my dear
madam ; but what I would urge is this — you have treated
your disappointed admirer too cruelly."

" What, the traitor who has robbed us of our rights? "

" He never would have robbed you of your rights if you
had been more kind to him. You should be gentle,
madam; you should forgive him — you should be friends
with him."

" With a traitor, never ! "

" Think what made him a traitor, Lady Gorgon ; look in
your glass, and say if there be not some excuse for him.
Think of the feelings of the man who saw beauty such as
yours — I am a plain man and must speak — Virtue such as
yours, in the possession of a rival. By heavens, madam,

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 441

I think he was right to hate Sir George Gorgon ! Would
you have him allow such a prize to be ravished from him
without a pang on his part? "

"He was, I believe, very much attached to me," said
Lady Gorgon quibe delighted; "but you must be aware
that a young man of his station in life could not look up
to a person of my rank."

" Surely not ; it was monstrous pride and arrogance in
Mr. Scully; but que voulez-vous ? Such is the world's way
— Scully could not help loving you — who that knows you
can? I am a plain man, and say what I think. He loves
you still. Why make an enemy of him, who would at a
word be at your feet? Dearest Lady Gorgon, listen to me.
Sir George Gorgon and Mr. Scully have already met — their
meeting was our contrivance, it is for our interest, for
yours, that they should be friends ; if there were two min-
isterial members for Oldborough, do you think your hus-
band's peerage would be less secure? I am not at liberty
to tell you all I know on this subject; but do, I entreat
you, be reconciled to him."

And after a little more conversation which was carried
on by Mr. Crampton in the same tender way, this impor-
tant interview closed, and Lady Gorgon, folding her shawl
round her, threaded certain mysterious passages, and found
her way to her carriage in Whitehall.

" I hope you have not been listening, you rogue, " said
Mr. Crampton to his nephew, who blushed most absurdly
by way of answer. " You would have heard great state
secrets, if you had dared to do so. That woman is per-
petually here, and if peerages are to be had for the asking,
she ought to have been a duchess by this time. I would
not have admitted her but for a reason that I have. Go
you now and ponder upon what you have heard and seen.
Be on good terms with Scully, and, above all, speak not
a word concerning our interview — no, not a word even to
your mistress. By the way, I presume, sir, you will recall
your resignation? "

The bewildered Perkins was about to stammer out a

442 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

speech, when his uncle, cutting it short, pushed him gently
out of the door.

*****

At the period when the important events occurred which
have been recorded here, parties ran very high, and a
mighty struggle for the vacant speakership was about to
come on. The Eight Honourable Robert Pincher was the
ministerial candidate, and Sir Charles Macabaw was patro-
nised by the opposition. The two members for Oldborough
of course took different sides, the baronet being of the
Pincher faction, while Mr. William Pitt Scully strongly
supported the Macabaw party.

It was Mr. Scully's intention to deliver an impromptu
speech upon the occasion of the election, and he and his
faithful Perkins prepared it between them ; for the latter
gentleman had wisely kept his uncle's counsel and his own,
and Mr. Scully was quite ignorant of the conspiracy that
was brooding. Indeed, so artfully had that young Machi-
avel of a Perkins conducted himself, that when asked by
his patron whether he had given up his place in the Tape-
and-Sealing- Wax Office, he replied that " he had tendered
his resignation," but did not say one word about having
recalled it.

"You were right, my boy, quite right," said Mr. Scully;
"a man of uncompromising principles should make no
compromise ; " and herewith he sat down and wrote off a
couple of letters, one to Mr. Rlngwood, telling him that
the place in the Sealing- Wax Office was, as he had reason
to know, vacant ; and the other to his nephew, stating that
it was to be his. "Under the rose, my dear Bob," added
Mr. Scully, " it will cost you five hundred pounds, but you
cannot invest your money better."

It is needless to state that the affair was to be conducted
"with the strictest secrecy and honour," and that the
money was to pass through Mr. Scully's hands.

While, however, the great Pincher and Macabaw ques-
tion was yet undecided, an event occurred to Mr. Scully,
which had a great influence upon his after-life. A second

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 443

grand banquet was given at the Earl of Mantrap's; Lady
Mantrap requested him to conduct Lady Gorgon to dinner,
and the latter, with a charming timidity, and a gracious
melancholy look into his face, (after which her veined eye-
lids veiled her azure eyes,) put her hand into the trembling
one of Mr. Scully, and said, as much as looks could say,
"Forgive and forget."

Down went Scully to dinner ; there were dukes on his
right hand, and earls on his left ; there were but two per-
sons without title in the midst of that glittering assem-
blage; the very servants looked like noblemen, the cook
had done wonders, the wines were cool and rich, and Lady
Gorgon was splendid ! What attention did everybody pay
to her and to him ! Why would she go on gazing into his
face with that tender, imploring look? In other words,
Scully, after partaking of soup and fish, (he, during their
discussion, had been thinking over all the former love-and-
hate passages between himself and Lady Gorgon,) turned
very red, and began talking to her.

" Were you not at the opera on Tuesday? " began he, as-
suming at once the airs of a man of fashion. " I thought
I caught a glimpse of you in the Duchess of Diddlebury's
box."

, "Opera, Mr. Scully?" (pronouncing the word "Scully"
with the utmost softness.) "Ah, no! we seldom go, and
yet too often. For serious persons the enchantments of
that place are too dangerous — I am so nervous — so delicate ;
the smallest trifle so agitates, depresses, or irritates me,
that I dare not yield myself up to the excitement of music.
I am too passionately attached to it ; and shall I tell you,
it has such a strange influence upon me, that the smallest
false note almost drives me to distraction, and for that
very reason I hardly ever go to a concert or a ball."

"Egad," thought Scully, "I recollect when she would
dance down a matter of five-and-forty couple, and jingle
away at the Battle of Prague all day."

She continued, "Don't you recollect, I do— with, oh,
what regret! — that day at Oldborough race-ball, when I

444 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

behaved with such sad rudeness to you ; you will scarcely
believe me, and yet I assure you 'tis the fact, the music
had made me almost mad ; do let me ask your pardon for
my conduct. I was not myself. Oh, Mr. Scully ! I am
no worldly woman; I know my duties, and I feel my
wrongs. Nights and nights have I lain awake weeping
and thinking of that unhappy day. That I should ever
speak so to an old friend, for we were old friends, were
we not? "

Scully did not speak ; but his eyes were bursting out of
his head, and his face was the exact colour of a deputy-
lieutenant's uniform.

" That I should ever forget myself and you so ! How
I have been longing for this opportunity to ask you to for-
give me ! I asked Lady Mantrap, when I heard you were
to be here, to invite me to her party. Come, I know you
will forgive me — your eyes say you will. You used to look
so in old days, and forgive me my caprices then. Do give
me a little wine — we will drink to the memory of old
days."

Her eyes filled with tears, and poor Scully's hand caused
such a rattling and trembling of the glass and the decan-
ter, that the Duke of Doldrum, who had been, during the
course of this whispered sentimentality, describing a fa-
mous run with the queen's hounds at the top of his voice,
stopped at the jingling of the glass, and his tale was lost
for ever. Scully hastily drank his wine, and Lady Gorgon
turned round to her next neighbour, a little gentleman in
black, between whom and herself certain conscious looks
passed.

"I am glad poor Sir George is not here," said he, smil-
ing.

Lady Gordon said, " Pooh, for shame ! " The little gen-
tleman was no other than Josiah Crampton, Esq., that em-
inent financier, and he was now going through the curious
calculation which we mentioned in our last, and by which
you buy a man for nothing. He intended to pay the very
same price for Sir George Gorgon, too, but there was no

THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY. 445

need to tell the baronet so; only of this the reader must
be made aware.

While Mr. Crampton was conducting this intrigue, which
was to bring a new recruit to the ministerial ranks, his
mighty spirit condescended to ponder upon subjects of in-
finitely less importance, and to arrange plans for the wel-
fare of his nephew and the young woman to whom he had
made a present of his heart. These young persons, as we
said before, had arranged to live in Mr. Perkins's own
house in Bedford-row. It was of a peculiar construction,
and might more properly be called a house and a half; for
a snug little tenement of four chambers protruded from the
back of the house into the garden. These rooms communi-
cated with the drawing-rooms occupied by Mr. Scully ; and
Perkins, who acted as his friend and secretary, used fre-
quently to sit in the one nearest the member's study, in
order that he might be close at hand to confer with that
great man. The rooms had a private entrance, too, were
newly decorated, and in them the young couple proposed
to live ; the kitchen and garrets being theirs likewise.
What more could they need? We are obliged to be par-
ticular in describing these apartments, for extraordinary
events occurred therein.

To say the truth, until the present period Mr. Crampton
had taken no great interest in his nephew's marriage, or,
indeed, in the young man himself. The old gentleman was
of a saturnine turn, and inclined to undervalue the quali-
ties of Mr. Perkins, which were idleness, simplicity, en-
thusiasm, and easy good-nature.

"Such fellows never do anything in the world," he
would say, and for such he had accordingly the most pro-
found contempt. But when, after John Perkins's repeated
entreaties, he had been induced to make the acquaintance
of Miss Gorgon, he became instantly charmed with her,
and warmly espoused her cause against her overbearing re-
lations.

At his suggestion she wrote back to decline Sir George
Gorgon's peremptory invitation, and hinted at the same

446 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

time that she had attained an age and a position which en-
abled her to be the mistress of her own actions. To this
letter there came an answer from Lady Gorgon which we
shall not copy, bat which simply stated, that Miss Lucy
Gorgon's conduct was unchristian, ungrateful, unladylike,
and immodest ; that the Gorgon family disowned her for
the future, and left her at liberty to form whatever base
connections she pleased.

"A pretty world this," said Mr. Crampton, in a great
rage, when the letter was shown to him. "This same
fellow, Scully, dissuades my nephew from taking a place,
because Scully wants it for himself. This prude of a Lady
Gorgon cries out shame, and disowns an innocent amiable
girl ; she, a heartless jilt herself once, and a heartless flirt
now. The Pharisees, the Pharisees ! And to call mine a
base family, too ! "

Now, Lady Gorgon did not in the least know Mr. Cramp-
ton's connection with Mr. Perkins, or she would have been
much more guarded in her language ; but whether she knew
it or not, the old gentleman felt a huge indignation, and
determined to have his revenge.

"That's right, uncle; shall I call Gorgon out? " said the
impetuous young Perkins, who was all for blood.

"John, you are a fool," said his uncle. "You shall
have a better revenge; you shall be married from Sir
George Gorgon's house, and you shall see Mr. William
Pitt Scully sold for nothing." This to the veteran diplo-
matist, seemed to be the highest triumph which man could
possibly enjoy.

It was very soon to take place ; and as has been the case
ever since the world began, woman, lovely woman was to
be the cause of Scully's fall. The tender scene at Lord
Mantrap's was followed by many others equally senti-
mental. Sir George Gorgon called upon his colleague the
very next day, and brought with him a card from Lady
Gorgon, inviting Mr. Scully to dinner. The attorney ea-
gerly accepted the invitation, was received in Baker-street
by the whole amiable family with much respectful cordial-

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 447

ity, and was pressed to repeat his visits as country neigh-
bours should. More than once did he call, and somehow
always at the hour when Sir George was away at his club,
or riding in the park, or elsewhere engaged. Sir George
Gorgon was very old, very feeble, very much shattered in
constitution. Lady Gorgon used to impart her fears to Mr.
Scully every time he called there, and the sympathising
attorney used to console her as best he might. Sir George's
country agent neglected the property — his lady consulted
Mr. Scully concerning it ; he knew to a fraction how large
her jointure was ; how she was to have Gorgon Castle for
her life; and how, in the event of the young baronet's
death, (he, too, was a sickly poor boy,) the chief part of
the estates, bought by her money, would be at her absolute
disposal.

" What a pity these odious politics prevent me from hav-
ing you for our agent," would Lady Gorgon say; and in-
deed Scully thought it was a pity too. Ambitious Scully !
what wild notions filled his brain. He used to take leave
of Lady Gorgon and ruminate upon these things; and when
he was gone, Sir George and her ladyship used to laugh.

" If we can but commit him — if we can but make him
vote for Pincher," said the general, " my peerage is secure.
Hawksby and Crarnpton as good as told me so."

The point had been urged upon Mr. Scully repeatedly
and adroitly. " Is not Pincher a more experienced man
than Macabaw? " would Sir George say to his guest over
their wine. Scully allowed it. "Can't you vote for him
on personal grounds, and say so in the house? " Scully
wished he could, — how he wished he could! Every time
the General coughed, Scully saw his friend's desperate
situation more and more, and thought how pleasant it would
be to be Lord of Gorgon Castle. " Knowing my property,"
cried Sir George, " as you do, and with your talents and
integrity, what a comfort it would be could I leave you as
guardian to my boy ! But these cursed politics prevent it,
my dear fellow. Why will you be a Radical? " And
Scully cursed politics too. " Hang the low-bred rogue,"

448 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

added Sir George, when William Pitt Scully left the house,
"he will do everything but promise. n

" My dear General," said Lady Gorgon, sidling up to him
and patting him on his old yellow cheek — "my dear
Georgy, tell me one thing, — are you jealous?"

" Jealous, my dear ! and jealous of that fellow — pshaw ! "
" Well, then, give me leave, and you shall have the prom-
ise to-morrow."

*****

To-morrow arrived. It was a remarkably fine day, and
in the forenoon Mr. Perkins gave his accustomed knock at
Scully's study, which was only separated from his own
sitting-room by a double door. John had wisely followed
his uncle's advice, and was on the best terms with the hon-
ourable member.

"Here are a few sentences," said he, "which I think
may suit your purpose. Great public services — undeniable
merit — years of integrity — cause of reform, and Macabaw
for ever ! " He put down the paper. It was, in fact, a
speech in favour of Mr. Macabaw.

"Hush," said Scully, rather surlily, for he was thinking
how disagreeable it was to support Macabaw, and besides,
there were clerks in the room, whom the thoughtless Per-
kins had not at first perceived. As soon as that gentleman
saw them, " You are busy, I see," continued he in a lower
tone. " I came to say, that I must be off duty to-day, for
I am engaged to take a walk with some ladies of my ac-
quaintance."

So saying, the light-hearted young man placed his hat
unceremoniously on his head, and went off through his own
door, humming a song. He was in such high spirits, that
he did not even think of closing the doors of communica-
tion, and Scully looked after him with a sneer.

" Ladies, forsooth," thought he; "I know who they are.
This precious girl that he is fooling with, for one, I sup-
pose." He was right, Perkins was off on the wings of love,
to see Miss Lucy; and she and aunt Biggs, and uncle
Crampton had promised this very day to come and look at

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 449

the apartments which. Mrs. John Perkins was to occupy
with her happy husband.

"Poor devil," so continued Mr. Scully's meditations, "it
is almost too bad to do him out of his place, but my Bob
wants it, and John's girl has, I hear, seven thousand
pounds. His uncle will get him another place before all
that money is spent ; " and herewith Mr. Scully began con-
ning the speech which Perkins had made for him.

He had not read it more than six times, — in truth, he was
getting it by heart, — when his head-clerk came to him from
the front room, bearing a card : a footman had brought it,
who said his lady was waiting below. Lady Gorgon's
name was on the card ! To seize his hat and rush down-
stairs was, with Mr. Scully, the work of an infinitesimal
portion of time.

It was indeed Lady Gorgon, in her Gorgonian chariot.

"Mr. Scully," said she, popping her head out of window
and smiling in a most engaging way, " I want to speak to
you on something very particular indeed," and she held
him out her hand. Scully pressed it most tenderly; he
hoped all heads in Bedford-row were at the windows to see
kirn. "I can't ask you into the carriage, for you see the
governess is with me, and I want to talk secrets to you."

"Shall I go and make a little promenade? " said made-
moiselle, innocently. And her mistress hated her for that
speech.

" No. Mr. Scully, I am sure, will let me come in for
five minutes."

Mr. Scully was only too happy. My lady descended
and walked upstairs, leaning on the happy solicitor's arm.
But how should he manage? The front room was conse-
crated to clerks ; there were clerks, too, as ill-luck would
have it, in his private room. "Perkins is out for the day,"
thought Scully ; " I will take her into his room ; " and into
Perkins's room he took her — ay, and he shut the double
doors after him too, and trembled as he thought of his own
happiness.

" What a charming little study," said Lady Gorgon, seat-

450 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

ing herself. And indeed it was very pretty, for Perkins
had furnished it beautifully, and laid out a neat tray with
cakes, a cold fowl, and sherry, to entertain his party
withal. " And do you bachelors always live so well? "
continued she, pointing to the little cold collation.

Mr. Scully looked rather blank when he saw it, and a
dreadful suspicion crossed his soul ; but there was no need
to trouble Lady Gorgon with explanations, therefore, at
once, and with much presence of mind, he asked her to
partake of his bachelor's fare (she would refuse Mr. Scully
nothing that day). A pretty sight would it have been for
young Perkins to see strangers so unceremoniously devour-
ing his feast. She drank — Mr. Scully drank — and so em-
boldened was he by the draught that he actually seated
himself by the side of Lady Gorgon, on John Perkinses
new sofa.

Her ladyship had of course something to say to him.
She was a pious woman, and had suddenly conceived a vio-
lent wish for building a chapel-of-ease at Oldborough, to
which she entreated him to subscribe. She enlarged upon
the benefits that the town would derive from it, spoke of
Sunday-schools, sweet spiritual instruction, and the duty
of all well-minded persons to give aid to the scheme.

"I will subscribe a hundred pounds," said Scully, at the
end of her ladyship's harangue : " would I not do anything
for you? "

" Thank you, thank you, dear Mr. Scully," said the en-
thusiastic woman. (How the " dear " went burning through
his soul !) " Ah ! " added she, " if you would but do any-
thing for me — if you, who are so eminently, so truly distin-
guished, in a religious point of view, would but see the
truth in politics, too; and if I could see your name among
those of the true patriot party in this empire, how blest —
oh ! how blest, should I be ! Poor Sir George often says
he should go to his grave happy, could he but see you the
guardian of his boy, and I, your old friend, (for we were
friends, William,) how have I wept to think of you, as one
of those who are bringing our monarchy to ruin. Do, do,

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 451

promise me this too ! " and she took his hand and pressed
it between hers.

The heart of William Pitt Scully, during this speech,
was thumping up and down with a frightful velocity and
strength. His old love, the agency of the Gorgon prop-
erty — the dear widow — five thousand a-year clear — a
thousand delicious hopes rushed madly through his brain,
and almost took away his reason. And there she sat —
she, the loved one, pressing his hand and looking softly
into his eyes.

Down, down, he plumped on his knees.

"Juliana!" shrieked he, "don't take away your hand!
My love — my only love ! — speak but those blessed words
again ! Call me William once more, and do with me what
you will."

Juliana cast down her eyes and said, in the very smallest
type,

"William!"

* # # # #

when the door opened, and in walked Mr. Crampton, lead-
ing Mrs. Biggs, who could hardly contain herself for laugh-
ing, and Mr. John Perkins, who was squeezing the arm of
Miss Lucy. They had heard every word of the two last
speeches.

For at the very moment when Lady Gorgon had stopped
at Mr. Scully's door, the four above-named individuals had
issued from Great James-street into Bedford-row. Lucy
cried out that it was her aunt's carriage, and they all saw
Mr. Scully come out, bare-headed, in the sunshine, and my
lady descend, and the pair go into the house. They mean-
while entered by Mr. Perkins's own private door, and had
been occupied in examining the delightful rooms on the
ground floor, which were to be his dining-room and library,
from which they ascended a stair to visit the other two
rooms, which were to form Mrs. John Perkins's drawing-
room and bed-room. Now whether it was that they trod
softly, or that the stairs were covered with a grand new
carpet and drugget, as was the case, or that the party

452 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY.

within were too much occupied in themselves to heed any
outward disturbances, I know not ; but Lucy, who was ad-
vancing within John, (he was saying something about one
of the apartments the rogue !) — Lucy suddenly started, and
whispered, " There is somebody in the rooms ! " and at that
instant began the speech already reported, " Thank you,
thank you, dear Mr. Scully" &c. &c. which was delivered
by Lady Gorgon, in a full, clear voice ; for, to do her lady-
ship justice, she had not one single grain of love for Mr.
Scully, and, during the delivery of her little oration, was
as cool as the coolest cucumber.

Then began the impassioned rejoinder to which the four
listened on the landing-place ; and then the little " Wil-
liam," as narrated above; at which juncture Mr. Crampton
thought proper to rattle at the door, and after a brief
pause, to enter with his party.

" William " had had time to bounce off his knees, and
was on a chair at the other end of the room.

" What, Lady Gorgon! " said Mr. Crampton, with excel-
lent surprise, " how delighted I am to see you ! Always,
I see, employed in works of charity, (the chapel-of-ease pa-
per was on her knees,) and on such an occasion, too, — it is
really the most wonderful coincidence ! My dear madam,
here is a silly fellow, a nephew of mine, who is going to
marry a silly girl, a niece of your own. "

" Sir, I— ' began Lady Gorgon, rising.

"They heard every word," whispered Mr. Crampton,
eagerly. "Come forward, Mr. Perkins, and show your-
self." Mr. Perkins made a genteel bow. "Miss Lucy,
please to shake hands with your aunt ; and this, my dear
madam, is Mrs. Biggs, of Mecklenburgh-square, who, if
she were not too old, might marry a gentleman in the treas-
ury, who is your very humble servant ; " and with this
gallant speech, old Mr. Crampton began helping everybody
to sherry and cake.

As for William Pitt Scully, he had disappeared, evapo-
rated, in the most absurd, sneaking way imaginable. Lady
Gorgon made good her retreat presently, with much digni-

THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 453

ty, her countenance undismayed, and her face turned reso-
lutely to the foe. * * *

About five days afterwards, that memorable contest took
place in the House of Commons, in which the partisans of
Mr. Macabaw were so very nearly getting him the speaker-
ship. On the day that the report of the debate appeared
in the Times, there appeared also an announcement in the
Gazette as follows : —

"The king has been pleased to appoint John Perkins,
Esq., to be Deputy-subcomptroller of his majesty's Tape-
office, and Gustos of the Sealing-wax department."

Mr. Crampton showed this to his nephew with great
glee, and was chuckling to think how Mr. William Pitt
Scully would be annoyed, who had expected the place,
when Perkins burst out laughing, and said, " By Heavens !
here is my own speech; Scully has spoken every word of
it, he has only put in Mr. Pincher's name in the place of
Mr. Macabaw7 s."

"He is ours now," responded his uncle, "and I told you
we would have him for nothing. I told you, too, that you
should be married from Sir George Gorgon's, and here is
proof of it. "

It was a letter from Lady Gorgon, in which she said
that, " had she known Mr. Perkins to be a nephew of her
friend Mr. Crampton, she never for a moment would have
opposed his marriage with her niece, and she had written
that morning to her dear Lucy, begging that the marriage
breakfast should take place in Baker-street."

" It shall be in Mecklenburgh-square," said John Per-
kins, stoutly ; and in Mecklenburgh-square it was.

William Pitt Scully, Esq., was, as Mr. Crampton said,
hugely annoyed at the loss of the place for his nephew.
He had still, however, his hopes to look forward to, but
these were unluckily dashed by the coming in of the Whigs.
As for Sir George Gorgon, when he came to ask about his
peerage, Hawskby told him that they could not afford to
lose him in the Commons, for a Liberal member would in-
fallibly fill his place.

454 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY,

And now that the Tories are out and the Whigs are in,
strange to say a Liberal does fill his place. This Liberal
is no other than Sir George Gorgon himself, who is still
longing to be a lord, and his lady is still devout and in-
triguing. So that the members for Oldborough have
changed sides, and taunt each other with apostasy, and
hate each other cordially. Mr. Crampton still chuckles
over the manner in which he tricked them both, and talks
of those five minutes during which he stood on the landing-
place, and hatched and executed his " Bedford-row Con-
spiracy."

THE END.

/

THAKERAY, V,' M

PR

AUTHOR works

.FOO
v.13

TITLE Catherine- A story, etc

M

Works

Catherine- A story,

PR

5600.
.FOO
v.13

etc