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diff --git a/44350-0.txt b/44350-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f76c90 --- /dev/null +++ b/44350-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6887 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44350 *** + +Transcriber's Note: + + Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have + been preserved. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. + + Italic text is denoted by _underscores_. + + + + + MY MISCELLANIES. + + BY WILKIE COLLINS, + + AUTHOR OF 'THE WOMAN IN WHITE,' 'NO NAME,' 'THE DEAD SECRET,' + &C. &C. &C. + + + IN TWO VOLUMES.--VOL. II. + + + LONDON: + + SAMPSON LOW, SON, & CO., LUDGATE HILL. + + 1863. + + The Author reserves the right of Translation. + + LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, + AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOL. II. + + + PAGE + + CASES WORTH LOOKING AT: I. + Memoirs of an Adopted Son 1 + + SKETCHES OF CHARACTER: IV. + The Bachelor Bedroom 30 + + NOOKS AND CORNERS OF HISTORY: III. + A remarkable Revolution 55 + + DOUGLAS JERROLD 75 + + SKETCHES OF CHARACTER: V. + Pray employ Major Namby! 95 + + CASES WORTH LOOKING AT: II. + The Poisoned Meal 114 + + SKETCHES OF CHARACTER: VI. + My Spinsters 173 + + DRAMATIC GRUB STREET. (Explored in Two Letters) 193 + + TO THINK, OR BE THOUGHT FOR? 211 + + SOCIAL GRIEVANCES: IV. + Save Me from my Friends 230 + + CASES WORTH LOOKING AT: III. + The Cauldron of Oil 250 + + BOLD WORDS BY A BACHELOR 281 + + SOCIAL GRIEVANCES: V. + Mrs. Bullwinkle 292 + + + + +MY MISCELLANIES. + + + + +CASES WORTH LOOKING AT.--I. + +MEMOIRS OF AN ADOPTED SON.[A] + + +I.--CIRCUMSTANCES WHICH PRECEDED HIS BIRTH. + +Towards the beginning of the eighteenth century there stood on a rock +in the sea, near a fishing village on the coast of Brittany, a ruined +Tower with a very bad reputation. No mortal was known to have inhabited +it within the memory of living man. The one tenant whom Tradition +associated with the occupation of the place, at a remote period, had +moved into it from the infernal regions, nobody knew why--had lived +in it, nobody knew how long--and had quitted possession, nobody knew +when. Under such circumstances, nothing was more natural than that this +unearthly Individual should give a name to his residence; for which +reason, the building was thereafter known to all the neighbourhood round +as Satanstower. + +Early in the year seventeen hundred, the inhabitants of the village were +startled, one night, by seeing the red gleam of a fire in the Tower, and +by smelling, in the same direction, a preternaturally strong odour of +fried fish. The next morning, the fishermen who passed by the building in +their boats were amazed to find that a stranger had taken up his abode +in it. Judging of him at a distance, he seemed to be a fine tall stout +fellow: he was dressed in fisherman's costume, and he had a new boat of +his own, moored comfortably in a cleft of the rock. If he had inhabited +a place of decent reputation, his neighbours would have immediately made +his acquaintance; but, as things were, all they could venture to do was +to watch him in silence. + +The first day passed, and, though it was fine weather, he made no use of +his boat. The second day followed, with a continuance of the fine weather, +and still he was as idle as before. On the third day, when a violent storm +kept all the boats of the village on the beach--on the third day, in the +midst of the tempest, away went the man of the Tower to make his first +fishing experiment in strange waters! He and his boat came back safe and +sound, in a lull of the storm; and the villagers watching on the cliff +above saw him carrying the fish up, by great basketsful, to his Tower. No +such haul had ever fallen to the lot of any one of them--and the stranger +had taken it in a whole gale of wind! + +Upon this, the inhabitants of the village called a council. The lead +in the debate was assumed by a smart young fellow, a fisherman named +Poulailler, who stoutly declared that the stranger at the Tower was +of infernal origin. "The rest of you may call him what you like," said +Poulailler; "I call him The Fiend-Fisherman!" + +The opinion thus expressed proved to be the opinion of the entire +audience--with the one exception of the village priest. The priest said, +"Gently, my sons. Don't make sure about the man of the Tower, before +Sunday. Wait and see if he comes to church." + +"And if he doesn't come to church?" asked all the fishermen, in a breath. + +"In that case," replied the priest, "I will excommunicate him--and then, +my children, you may call him what you like." + +Sunday came; and no sign of the stranger darkened the church-doors. He +was excommunicated, accordingly. The whole village forthwith adopted +Poulailler's idea; and called the man of the Tower by the name which +Poulailler had given him--"The Fiend-Fisherman." + +These strong proceedings produced not the slightest apparent effect on the +diabolical personage who had occasioned them. He persisted in remaining +idle when the weather was fine; in going out to fish when no other boat +in the place dare put to sea; and in coming back again to his solitary +dwelling-place, with his nets full, his boat uninjured, and himself +alive and hearty. He made no attempts to buy and sell with anybody; +he kept steadily away from the village; he lived on fish of his own +preternaturally strong frying; and he never spoke to a living soul--with +the solitary exception of Poulailler himself. One fine evening, when the +young man was rowing home past the Tower, the Fiend-Fisherman darted out +on to the rock--said, "Thank you, Poulailler, for giving me a name"--bowed +politely--and darted in again. The young fisherman felt the words run cold +down the marrow of his back; and whenever he was at sea again, he gave +the Tower a wide berth from that day forth. + +Time went on--and an important event occurred in Poulailler's life. He +was engaged to be married. On the day when his betrothal was publicly made +known, his friends clustered noisily about him on the fishing-jetty of the +village to offer their congratulations. While they were all in full cry, +a strange voice suddenly made itself heard through the confusion, which +silenced everybody in an instant. The crowd fell back, and disclosed the +Fiend-Fisherman sauntering up the jetty. It was the first time he had ever +set foot--cloven foot--within the precincts of the village. + +"Gentlemen," said the Fiend-Fisherman, "where is my friend, Poulailler?" +He put the question with perfect politeness; he looked remarkably well in +his fisherman's costume; he exhaled a relishing odour of fried fish; he +had a cordial nod for the men, and a sweet smile for the women--but, with +all these personal advantages, everybody fell back from him, and nobody +answered his question. The coldness of the popular reception, however, did +not in any way abash him. He looked about for Poulailler with searching +eyes, discovered the place in which he was standing, and addressed him in +the friendliest manner. + +"So you are going to be married?" remarked the Fiend-Fisherman. + +"What's that to you?" said Poulailler. He was inwardly terrified, but +outwardly gruff--not an uncommon combination of circumstances with men of +his class, in his mental situation. + +"My friend," pursued the Fiend-Fisherman, "I have not forgotten your +polite attention in giving me a name; and I come here to requite it. You +will have a family, Poulailler; and your first child will be a boy. I +propose to make that boy my Adopted Son." + +The marrow of Poulailler's back became awfully cold--but he grew gruffer +than ever, in spite of his back. + +"You won't do anything of the sort," he replied. "If I have the largest +family in France, no child of mine shall ever go near you." + +"I shall adopt your first-born for all that," persisted the +Fiend-Fisherman. "Poulailler! I wish you good morning. Ladies and +gentlemen! the same to all of you." + +With those words, he withdrew from the jetty; and the marrow of +Poulailler's back recovered its temperature. + +The next morning was stormy; and all the village expected to see the boat +from the Tower put out, as usual, to sea. Not a sign of it appeared. +Later in the day, the rock on which the building stood was examined +from a distance. Neither boat nor nets were in their customary places. +At night, the red gleam of the fire was missed for the first time. The +Fiend-Fisherman had gone! He had announced his intentions on the jetty, +and had disappeared. What did this mean? Nobody knew. + +On Poulailler's wedding-day, a portentous circumstance recalled the +memory of the diabolical stranger, and, as a matter of course, seriously +discomposed the bridegroom's back. At the moment when the marriage +ceremony was complete, a relishing odour of fried fish stole into the +nostrils of the company, and a voice from invisible lips said: "Keep up +your spirits, Poulailler; I have not forgotten my promise!" + +A year later, Madame Poulailler was in the hands of the midwife of the +district, and a repetition of the portentous circumstance took place. +Poulailler was waiting in the kitchen to hear how matters ended up-stairs. +The nurse came in with a baby. "Which is it?" asked the happy father; +"girl or boy?" Before the nurse could answer, an odour of supernaturally +fried fish filled the kitchen; and a voice from invisible lips replied: +"A boy, Poulailler--_and I've got him!_" + +Such were the circumstances under which the subject of this Memoir was +introduced to the joys and sorrows of mortal existence. + + +II.--HIS BOYHOOD AND EARLY LIFE. + +When a boy is born under auspices which lead his parents to suppose +that, while the bodily part of him is safe at home, the spiritual part is +subjected to a course of infernal tuition elsewhere--what are his father +and mother to do with him? They must do the best they can--which was +exactly what Poulailler and his wife did with the hero of these pages. + +In the first place, they had him christened instantly. It was observed +with horror that his infant face was distorted with grimaces, and that his +infant voice roared with a preternatural lustiness of tone the moment the +priest touched him. The first thing he asked for, when he learnt to speak, +was "fried fish;" and the first place he wanted to go to, when he learnt +to walk, was the diabolical Tower on the rock. "He won't learn anything," +said the master, when he was old enough to go to school. "Thrash him," +said Poulailler--and the master thrashed him. "He won't come to his +first communion," said the priest. "Thrash him," said Poulailler--and the +priest thrashed him. The farmers' orchards were robbed; the neighbouring +rabbit-warrens were depopulated; linen was stolen from the gardens, and +nets were torn on the beach. "The deuce take Poulailler's boy," was the +general cry. "The deuce has got him," was Poulailler's answer. "And yet +he is a nice-looking boy," said Madame Poulailler. And he was--as tall, +as strong, as handsome a young fellow, as could be seen in all France. +"Let us pray for him," said Madame Poulailler. "Let us thrash him," +said her husband. "Our son has been thrashed till all the sticks in the +neighbourhood are broken," pleaded his mother. "We will try him with the +rope's-end next," retorted his father; "he shall go to sea and live in an +atmosphere of thrashing. Our son shall be a cabin-boy." It was all one to +Poulailler Junior--he knew who had adopted him, as well as his father--he +had been instinctively conscious from infancy of the Fiend-Fisherman's +interest in his welfare--he cared for no earthly discipline--and a +cabin-boy he became at ten years old. + +After two years of the rope's-end (applied quite ineffectually), the +subject of this Memoir robbed his captain, and ran away in an English +port. London became the next scene of his adventures. At twelve years old, +he persuaded society in the Metropolis that he was the forsaken natural +son of a French duke. British benevolence, after blindly providing for him +for four years, opened its eyes and found him out at the age of sixteen; +upon which he returned to France, and entered the army in the capacity +of drummer. At eighteen, he deserted, and had a turn with the gipsies. +He told fortunes, he conjured, he danced on the tight-rope, he acted, +he sold quack medicines, he altered his mind again, and returned to the +army. Here he fell in love with the vivandière of his new regiment. The +sergeant-major of the company, touched by the same amiable weakness, +naturally resented his attentions to the lady. Poulailler (perhaps +unjustifiably) asserted himself by boxing his officer's ears. Out flashed +the swords on both sides, and in went Poulailler's blade through and +through the tender heart of the sergeant-major. The frontier was close at +hand. Poulailler wiped his sword, and crossed it. + +Sentence of death was recorded against him in his absence. When society +has condemned us to die, if we are men of any spirit how are we to return +the compliment? By condemning society to keep us alive--or, in other +words, by robbing right and left for a living. Poulailler's destiny was +now accomplished. He was picked out to be the Greatest Thief of his age; +and when Fate summoned him to his place in the world, he stepped forward +and took it. His life hitherto had been merely the life of a young +scamp--he was now to do justice to the diabolical father who had adopted +him, and to expand to the proportions of a full-grown Robber. + +His first exploits were performed in Germany. They showed such novelty +of combination, such daring, such dexterity, and, even in his most +homicidal moments, such irresistible gaiety and good humour, that a band +of congenial spirits gathered about him in no time. As commander-in-chief +of the Thieves' army, his popularity never wavered. His weaknesses--and +what illustrious man is without them?--were three in number. First +weakness--he was extravagantly susceptible to the charms of the fair sex. +Second weakness--he was perilously fond of practical jokes. Third weakness +(inherited from his adopted parent)--his appetite was insatiable in the +matter of fried fish. As for the merits to set against these defects, +some have been noticed already, and others will appear immediately. Let +it merely be premised, in this place, that he was one of the handsomest +men of his time, that he dressed superbly, and that he was capable +of the most exalted acts of generosity wherever a handsome woman was +concerned--let this be understood, to begin with; and let us now enter on +the narrative of his last exploit in Germany before he returned to France. +This adventure is something more than a mere specimen of his method of +workmanship--it proved, in the future, to be the fatal event of his life. + +On a Monday in the week, he had stopped on the highway, and robbed of +all his valuables and all his papers, an Italian nobleman--the Marquis +Petrucci of Sienna. On Tuesday, he was ready for another stroke of +business. Posted on the top of a steep hill, he watched the road which +wound up to the summit on one side, while his followers were ensconced on +the road which led down from it on the other. The prize expected, in this +case, was the travelling carriage (with a large sum of money inside) of +the Baron de Kirbergen. + +Before long, Poulailler discerned the carriage afar off, at the bottom +of the hill, and in advance of it, ascending the eminence, two ladies +on foot. They were the Baron's daughters--Wilhelmina, a fair beauty; +Frederica, a brunette--both lovely, both accomplished, both susceptible, +both young. Poulailler sauntered down the hill to meet the fascinating +travellers. He looked--bowed--introduced himself--and fell in love with +Wilhelmina on the spot. Both the charming girls acknowledged in the +most artless manner that confinement to the carriage had given them +the fidgets, and that they were walking up the hill to try the remedy +of gentle exercise. Poulailler's heart was touched, and Poulailler's +generosity to the sex was roused in the nick of time. With a polite +apology to the young ladies, he ran back, by a short cut, to the ambush +on the other side of the hill in which his men were posted. + +"Gentlemen!" cried the generous Thief, "in the charming name of Wilhelmina +de Kirbergen, I charge you all, let the Baron's carriage pass free." The +band was not susceptible--the band demurred. Poulailler knew them. He +had appealed to their hearts in vain--he now appealed to their pockets. +"Gentlemen!" he resumed, "excuse my momentary misconception of your +sentiments. Here is my one half share of the Marquis Petrucci's property. +If I divide it among you, will you let the carriage pass free?" The band +knew the value of money--and accepted the terms. Poulailler rushed back +up the hill, and arrived at the top just in time to hand the young ladies +into the carriage. "Charming man!" said the white Wilhelmina to the brown +Frederica, as they drove off. Innocent soul! what would she have said +if she had known that her personal attractions had saved her father's +property? Was she ever to see the charming man again? Yes: she was to see +him the next day--and, more than that, Fate was hereafter to link her fast +to the robber's life and the robbers doom. + +Confiding the direction of the band to his first lieutenant, Poulailler +followed the carriage on horseback, and ascertained the place of the +Baron's residence that night. + +The next morning a superbly-dressed stranger knocked at the door. "What +name, sir?" said the servant. "The Marquis Petrucci of Sienna," replied +Poulailler. "How are the young ladies after their journey?" The Marquis +was shown in, and introduced to the Baron. The Baron was naturally +delighted to receive a brother nobleman--Miss Wilhelmina was modestly +happy to see the charming man again--Miss Frederica was affectionately +pleased on her sister's account. Not being of a disposition to lose time +where his affections were concerned, Poulailler expressed his sentiments +to the beloved object that evening. The next morning he had an interview +with the Baron, at which he produced the papers which proved him to be +the Marquis. Nothing could be more satisfactory to the mind of the most +anxious parent--the two noblemen embraced. They were still in each other's +arms, when a second stranger knocked at the door. "What name, sir?" said +the servant. "The Marquis Petrucci of Sienna," replied the stranger. +"Impossible!" said the servant; "his lordship is now in the house." "Show +me in, scoundrel," cried the visitor. The servant submitted, and the two +Marquises stood face to face. Poulailler's composure was not shaken in the +least; he had come first to the house, and he had got the papers. "You are +the villain who robbed me!" cried the true Petrucci. "You are drunk, mad, +or an impostor," retorted the false Petrucci. "Send to Florence, where I +am known," exclaimed one of the Marquises, apostrophising the Baron. "Send +to Florence by all means," echoed the other, addressing himself to the +Baron also. "Gentlemen," replied the noble Kirbergen, "I will do myself +the honour of taking your advice"--and he sent to Florence accordingly. + +Before the messenger had advanced ten miles on his journey, Poulailler +had said two words in private to the susceptible Wilhelmina--and the pair +eloped from the baronial residence that night. Once more the subject of +this Memoir crossed the frontier, and re-entered France. Indifferent to +the attractions of rural life, he forthwith established himself with the +beloved object in Paris. In that superb city he met with his strangest +adventures, performed his boldest achievements, committed his most +prodigious robberies, and, in a word, did himself and his infernal patron +the fullest justice, in the character of the Fiend-Fisherman's Adopted +Son. + + +III.--HIS CAREER IN PARIS. + +Once established in the French metropolis, Poulailler planned and executed +that vast system of perpetual robbery and occasional homicide which made +him the terror and astonishment of all Paris. In-doors, as well as out, +his good fortune befriended him. No domestic anxieties harassed his mind, +and diverted him from the pursuit of his distinguished public career. +The attachment of the charming creature with whom he had eloped from +Germany, survived the discovery that the Marquis Petrucci was Poulailler +the robber. True to the man of her choice, the devoted Wilhelmina shared +his fortunes, and kept his house. And why not, if she loved him?--in the +all-conquering name of Cupid, why not? + +Joined by picked men from his German followers, and by new recruits +gathered together in Paris, Poulailler now set society and its safeguards +at flat defiance. Cartouche himself was his inferior in audacity and +cunning. In course of time, the whole city was panic-stricken by the new +robber and his band--the very Boulevards were deserted after nightfall. +Monsieur Hérault, lieutenant of police of the period, in despair of +laying hands on Poulailler by any other means, at last offered a reward +of a hundred pistoles and a place in his office worth two thousand livres +a-year to any one who would apprehend the robber alive. The bills were +posted all over Paris--and, the next morning, they produced the very last +result in the world which the lieutenant of police could possibly have +anticipated. + +Whilst Monsieur Hérault was at breakfast in his study, the Count de +Villeneuve was announced as wishing to speak to him. Knowing the Count by +name only, as belonging to an ancient family in Provence, or in Languedoc, +Monsieur Hérault ordered him to be shown in. A perfect gentleman appeared, +dressed with an admirable mixture of magnificence and good taste. "I +have something for your private ear, sir," said the Count. "Will you give +orders that no one must be allowed to disturb us?" + +Monsieur Hérault gave the orders. + +"May I enquire, Count, what your business is?" he asked, when the door +was closed. + +"To earn the reward you offer for taking Poulailler," answered the Count. +"I am Poulailler." + +Before Monsieur Hérault could open his lips, the robber produced a pretty +little dagger and some rose-coloured silk cord. "The point of this dagger +is poisoned," he observed; "and one scratch of it, my dear sir, would be +the death of you." With these words Poulailler gagged the lieutenant of +police, bound him to his chair with the rose-coloured cord, and lightened +his writing-desk of one thousand pistoles. "I'll take money, instead of +taking the place in the office which you kindly offer," said Poulailler. +"Don't trouble yourself to see me to the door. Good morning." + +A few weeks later, while Monsieur Hérault was still the popular subject of +ridicule throughout Paris, business took Poulailler on the road to Lille +and Cambrai. The only inside passenger in the coach besides himself, was +the venerable Dean Potter of Brussels. They fell into talk on the one +interesting subject of the time--not the weather, but Poulailler. + +"It's a disgrace, sir, to the police," said the Dean, "that such a +miscreant is still at large. I shall be returning to Paris, by this road, +in ten days' time, and I shall call on Monsieur Hérault, to suggest a plan +of my own for catching the scoundrel." + +"May I ask what it is?" said Poulailler. + +"Excuse me," replied the Dean; "you are a stranger, sir,--and, moreover, +I wish to keep the merit of suggesting the plan to myself." + +"Do you think the lieutenant of police will see you?" asked Poulailler; +"he is not accessible to strangers, since the miscreant you speak of +played him that trick at his own breakfast-table." + +"He will see Dean Potter of Brussels," was the reply, delivered with the +slightest possible tinge of offended dignity. + +"Oh, unquestionably!" said Poulailler,--"pray pardon me." + +"Willingly, sir," said the Dean--and the conversation flowed into other +channels. + +Nine days later the wounded pride of Monsieur Hérault was soothed by a +very remarkable letter. It was signed by one of Poulailler's band, who +offered himself as King's evidence, in the hope of obtaining a pardon. +The letter stated that the venerable Dean Potter had been waylaid and +murdered by Poulailler, and that the robber, with his customary audacity, +was about to re-enter Paris by the Lisle coach, the next day, disguised +in the Dean's own clothes, and furnished with the Dean's own papers. +Monsieur Hérault took his precautions without losing a moment. Picked +men were stationed, with their orders, at the barrier through which the +coach must pass to enter Paris; while the lieutenant of police waited at +his office, in the company of two French gentlemen who could speak to the +Dean's identity, in the event of Poulailler's impudently persisting in +the assumption of his victim's name. + +At the appointed hour the coach appeared, and out of it got a man in the +Dean's costume. He was arrested in spite of his protestations; the papers +of the murdered Potter were found on him, and he was dragged off to the +police office in triumph. The door opened, and the posse comitatus entered +with the prisoner. Instantly the two witnesses burst out with a cry of +recognition, and turned indignantly on the lieutenant of police. "Gracious +Heaven, sir, what have you done!" they exclaimed in horror; "this is not +Poulailler--here is our venerable friend; here is the Dean himself!" At +the same moment, a servant entered with a letter. "Dean Potter. To the +care of Monsieur Hérault, Lieutenant of Police." The letter was expressed +in these words: "Venerable sir,--Profit by the lesson I have given you. +Be a Christian for the future, and never again try to injure a man unless +he tries to injure you. Entirely yours, Poulailler." + +These feats of cool audacity were matched by others, in which his +generosity to the sex asserted itself as magnanimously as ever. + +Hearing, one day, that large sums of money were kept in the house of a +great lady, one Madame de Brienne, whose door was guarded, in anticipation +of a visit from the famous thief, by a porter of approved trustworthiness +and courage, Poulailler undertook to rob her in spite of her precautions, +and succeeded. With a stout pair of leather straps and buckles in his +pocket, and with two of his band, disguised as a coachman and footman, +he followed Madame de Brienne one night to the theatre. Just before the +close of the performance, the lady's coachman and footman were tempted +away for five minutes by Poulailler's disguised subordinates to have +a glass of wine. No attempt was made to detain them, or to drug their +liquor. But, in their absence, Poulailler had slipped under the carriage, +had hung his leather straps round the pole--one to hold by, and one to +support his feet--and, with these simple preparations, was now ready +to wait for events. Madame de Brienne entered the carriage--the footman +got up behind--Poulailler hung himself horizontally under the pole, and +was driven home with them, under those singular circumstances. He was +strong enough to keep his position after the carriage had been taken into +the coach-house; and he only left it when the doors were locked for the +night. Provided with food beforehand, he waited patiently, hidden in the +coach-house, for two days and nights, watching his opportunity of getting +into Madame de Brienne's boudoir. + +On the third night the lady went to a grand ball--the servants relaxed in +their vigilance while her back was turned--and Poulailler slipped into +the room. He found two thousand louis d'ors, which was nothing like the +sum he expected, and a pocket-book, which he took away with him to open +at home. It contained some stock-warrants for a comparatively trifling +amount. Poulailler was far too well off to care about taking them, and +far too polite, where a lady was concerned, not to send them back again, +under those circumstances. Accordingly, Madame de Brienne received her +warrants, with a note of apology from the polite thief. + +"Pray excuse my visit to your charming boudoir," wrote Poulailler, "in +consideration of the false reports of your wealth, which alone induced +me to enter it. If I had known what your pecuniary circumstances really +were, on the honour of a gentleman, Madam, I should have been incapable +of robbing you. I cannot return your two thousand louis d'ors by post, +as I return your warrants. But if you are at all pressed for money in +future, I shall be proud to assist so distinguished a lady by lending her, +from my own ample resources, double the sum of which I regret to have +deprived her on the present occasion." This letter was shown to royalty +at Versailles. It excited the highest admiration of the Court--especially +of the ladies. Whenever the robber's name was mentioned, they indulgently +referred to him as the Chevalier de Poulailler. Ah! that was the age of +politeness, when good-breeding was recognised, even in a thief. Under +similar circumstances, who would recognise it now? O tempora! O mores! + +On another occasion, Poulailler was out, one night, taking the air +and watching his opportunities on the roofs of the houses; a member +of the band being posted in the street below to assist him in case +of necessity. While in this position, sobs and groans proceeding from +an open back-garret window caught his ear. A parapet rose before the +window, which enabled him to climb down and look in. Starving children +surrounding a helpless mother, and clamouring for food, was the picture +that met his eye. The mother was young and beautiful; and Poulailler's +hand impulsively clutched his purse, as a necessary consequence. Before +the charitable thief could enter by the window, a man rushed in by the +door, with a face of horror; and cast a handful of gold into the lovely +mother's lap. "My honour is gone," he cried; "but our children are +saved! Listen to the circumstances. I met a man in the street below; he +was tall and thin; he had a green patch over one eye; he was looking up +suspiciously at this house, apparently waiting for somebody. I thought of +you--I thought of the children--I seized the suspicious stranger by the +collar. Terror overwhelmed him on the spot. 'Take my watch, my money, and +my two valuable gold snuff-boxes,' he said--'but spare my life.' I took +them." "Noble-hearted man!" cried Poulailler, appearing at the window. +The husband started; the wife screamed; the children hid themselves. "Let +me entreat you to be composed," continued Poulailler. "Sir! I enter on +the scene for the purpose of soothing your uneasy conscience. From your +vivid description, I recognise the man whose property is now in your +wife's lap. Resume your mental tranquillity. You have robbed a robber--in +other words, you have vindicated society. Accept my congratulations on +your restored innocence. The miserable coward whose collar you seized, +is one of Poulailler's band. He has lost his stolen property, as the fit +punishment for his disgraceful want of spirit." + +"Who are you?" exclaimed the husband. + +"I am Poulailler," replied the illustrious man, with the simplicity of an +ancient hero. "Take this purse; and set up in business with the contents. +There is a prejudice, Sir, in favour of honesty. Give that prejudice +a chance. There was a time when I felt it myself; I regret to feel it +no longer. Under all varieties of misfortune, an honest man has his +consolation still left. Where is it left? Here!" He struck his heart--and +the family fell on their knees before him. + +"Benefactor of your species!" cried the husband--"how can I show my +gratitude?" + +"You can permit me to kiss the hand of madame," answered Poulailler. + +Madame started to her feet, and embraced the generous stranger. "What more +can I do?" exclaimed this lovely woman eagerly--"Oh, Heavens! what more?" + +"You can beg your husband to light me down stairs," replied Poulailler. +He spoke, pressed their hands, dropped a generous tear, and departed. At +that touching moment, his own adopted father would not have known him. + +This last anecdote closes the record of Poulailler's career in Paris. +The lighter and more agreeable aspects of that career have hitherto +been designedly presented, in discreet remembrance of the contrast which +the tragic side of the picture must now present. Comedy and Sentiment, +twin sisters of French extraction, farewell! Horror enters next on the +stage--and enters welcome, in the name of the Fiend-Fisherman's Adopted +Son. + + +IV.--HIS EXIT FROM THE SCENE. + +The nature of Poulailler's more serious achievements in the art of +robbery may be realised by reference to one terrible fact. In the police +records of the period, more than one hundred and fifty men and women are +reckoned up as having met their deaths at the hands of Poulailler and his +band. It was not the practice of this formidable robber to take life as +well as property, unless life happened to stand directly in his way--in +which case he immediately swept off the obstacle without hesitation and +without remorse. His deadly determination to rob, which was thus felt by +the population in general, was matched by his deadly determination to +be obeyed, which was felt by his followers in particular. One of their +number, for example, having withdrawn from his allegiance, and having +afterwards attempted to betray his leader, was tracked to his hiding-place +in a cellar, and was there walled up alive in Poulailler's presence; the +robber composing the unfortunate wretch's epitaph, and scratching it on +the wet plaster with his own hand. Years afterwards, the inscription was +noticed, when the house fell into the possession of a new tenant, and was +supposed to be nothing more than one of the many jests which the famous +robber had practised in his time. When the plaster was removed, the +skeleton fell out, and testified that Poulailler was in earnest. + +To attempt the arrest of such a man as this by tampering with his +followers, was practically impossible. No sum of money that could be +offered would induce any one of the members of his band to risk the fatal +chance of his vengeance. Other means of getting possession of him had +been tried, and tried in vain. Five times over, the police had succeeded +in tracking him to different hiding-places; and on all five occasions, +the women--who adored him for his gallantry, his generosity, and his good +looks--had helped him to escape. If he had not unconsciously paved the +way to his own capture, first by eloping with Mademoiselle Wilhelmina +de Kirbergen, and secondly by maltreating her, it is more than doubtful +whether the long arm of the law would ever have reached far enough to +fasten its grasp on him. As it was, the extremes of love and hatred met +at last in the bosom of the devoted Wilhelmina; and the vengeance of a +neglected woman accomplished what the whole police force of Paris had been +powerless to achieve. + +Poulailler, never famous for the constancy of his attachments, had +wearied, at an early period, of the companion of his flight from +Germany--but Wilhelmina was one of those women whose affections, once +aroused, will not take No for an answer. She persisted in attaching +herself to a man who had ceased to love her. Poulailler's patience became +exhausted; he tried twice to rid himself of his unhappy mistress--once +by the knife and once by poison--and failed on both occasions. For the +third and last time, by way of attempting an experiment of another kind, +he established a rival to drive the German woman out of the house. From +that moment his fate was sealed. Maddened by jealous rage, Wilhelmina cast +the last fragments of her fondness to the winds. She secretly communicated +with the police--and Poulailler met his doom. + +A night was appointed with the authorities; and the robber was invited +by his discarded mistress to a farewell interview. His contemptuous +confidence in her fidelity rendered him careless of his customary +precautions. He accepted the appointment; and the two supped together, +on the understanding that they were henceforth to be friends, and nothing +more. Towards the close of the meal, Poulailler was startled by a ghastly +change in the face of his companion. + +"What is wrong with you?" he asked. + +"A mere trifle," she answered, looking at her glass of wine. "I can't +help loving you still, badly as you have treated me. You are a dead man, +Poulailler--and I shall not survive you." + +The robber started to his feet, and seized a knife on the table. + +"You have poisoned me?" he exclaimed. + +"No," she replied. "Poison is my vengeance on myself; not my vengeance +on _you_. You will rise from this table as you sat down to it. But your +evening will be finished in prison; and your life will be ended on the +Wheel." + +As she spoke the words, the door was burst open by the police, and +Poulailler was secured. The same night the poison did its fatal work; +and his mistress made atonement with her life for the first, last, act of +treachery which had revenged her on the man she loved. + +Once safely lodged in the hands of justice, the robber tried to gain time +to escape in, by promising to make important disclosures. The manoeuvre +availed him nothing. In those days, the Laws of the Land had not yet +made acquaintance with the Laws of Humanity. Poulailler was put to the +torture--was suffered to recover--was publicly broken on the Wheel--and +was taken off it alive, to be cast into a blazing fire. By those murderous +means, Society rid itself of a murderous man--and the idlers on the +Boulevards took their evening stroll again in recovered security. + + * * * * * + +Paris had seen the execution of Poulailler--but, if legends are to be +trusted, our old friends, the people of the fishing village in Brittany +saw the end of him afterwards. On the day and hour when he perished, the +heavens darkened, and a terrible storm arose. Once more, and for a moment +only, the gleam of the unearthly fire reddened the windows of the old +Tower. Thunder pealed and struck the building into fragments. Lightning +flashed incessantly over the ruins; and, in the scorching glare of it, the +boat which, in former years, had put off to sea whenever the storm rose +highest, was seen to shoot out into the raging ocean from the cleft in +the rock--and was discovered, on this final occasion, to be doubly manned. +The Fiend-Fisherman sat at the helm; his Adopted Son tugged at the oars; +and a clamour of diabolical voices, roaring awfully through the roaring +storm, wished the pair of them a prosperous voyage. + + + + +SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.--IV. + +THE BACHELOR BEDROOM. + + +The great merit of this subject is that it starts itself. + +The Bachelor Bedroom is familiar to everybody who owns a country house, +and to everybody who has stayed in a country house. It is the one especial +sleeping apartment, in all civilised residences used for the reception of +company, which preserves a character of its own. Married people and young +ladies may be shifted about from bedroom to bedroom as their own caprice +or the domestic convenience of the host may suggest. But the bachelor +guest, when he has once had his room set apart for him, contrives to +dedicate it to the perpetual occupation of single men from that moment. +Who else is to have the room afterwards, when the very atmosphere of +it is altered by tobacco-smoke? Who can venture to throw it open to +nervous spinsters, or respectable married couples, when the footman is +certain, from mere force of habit, to make his appearance at the door, +with contraband bottles and glasses, after the rest of the family have +retired for the night? Where, even if these difficulties could be got +over, is any second sleeping apartment to be found, in any house of +ordinary construction, isolated enough to secure the soberly reposing +portion of the guests from being disturbed by the regular midnight party +which the bachelor persists in giving in his bedroom? Dining-rooms and +breakfast-rooms may change places; double-bedded rooms and single-bedded +rooms may shift their respective characters backwards and forwards +amicably among each other--but the Bachelor Bedroom remains immovably +in its own place; sticks immutably to its own bad character; stands out +victoriously whether the house is full, or whether the house is empty, +the one hospitable institution that no repentant after-thoughts of host +or hostess can ever hope to suppress. + +Such a social phenomenon as this, taken with its surrounding +circumstances, deserves more notice than it has yet obtained. The bachelor +has been profusely served up on all sorts of literary tables; but, +the presentation of him has been hitherto remarkable for a singularly +monotonous flavour of matrimonial sauce. We have heard of his loneliness, +and its remedy; of his solitary position in illness, and its remedy; +of the miserable neglect of his linen, and its remedy. But what have we +heard of him in connexion with his remarkable bedroom, at those periods +of his existence when he, like the rest of the world, is a visitor at his +friend's country house? Who has presented him, in his relation to married +society, under those peculiar circumstances of his life, when he is away +from his solitary chambers, and is thrown straight into the sacred centre +of that home circle from which his ordinary habits are so universally +supposed to exclude him? Here, surely, is a new aspect of the bachelor +still left to be presented; and here is a new subject for worn-out readers +of the nineteenth century, whose fountain of literary novelty has become +exhausted at the source. + +Let me sketch the history--in anticipation of a large and serious work +which I intend to produce, one of these days, on the same subject--of the +Bachelor Bedroom, in a certain comfortable country house, whose hospitable +doors fly open to me with the beginning of summer, and close no more until +the autumn is ended. I must beg permission to treat this interesting topic +from the purely human point of view. In other words, I propose describing, +not the Bedroom itself, but the succession of remarkable bachelors who +have passed through it in my time. + + * * * * * + +The hospitable country-seat to which I refer is Coolcup House, the +residence of that enterprising gentleman-farmer and respected chairman of +Quarter Sessions, Sir John Giles. Sir John's Bachelor Bedroom has been +wisely fitted up on the ground-floor. It is the one solitary sleeping +apartment in that part of the house. Fidgety bachelors can jump out on +to the lawn, at night, through the bow-window, without troubling anybody +to unlock the front door; and can communicate with the presiding genius +of the cellar by merely crossing the hall. For the rest, the room is +delightfully airy and spacious, and fitted up with all possible luxury. +It started in life, under Sir John's careful auspices, the perfection +of neatness and tidiness. But the bachelors have corrupted it long +since. However carefully the servants may clean, and alter, and arrange +it, the room loses its respectability again, and gets slovenly and +unpresentable the moment their backs are turned. Sir John himself, the +tidiest man in existence, has given up all hope of reforming it. He peeps +in occasionally, and sighs and shakes his head, and puts a chair in its +place, and straightens a print on the wall, and looks about him at the +general litter and confusion, and gives it up and goes out again. He is a +rigid man and a resolute in the matter of order, and has his way all over +the rest of the house--but the Bachelor Bedroom is too much for him. + +The first bachelor who inhabited the room when I began to be a guest at +Coolcup House, was Mr. Bigg. + +Mr. Bigg is, in the strictest sense of the word, what you call a fine +man. He stands over six feet, is rather more than stout enough for his +height, holds his head up nobly, and dresses in a style of mingled gaiety +and grandeur which impresses everybody. The morning shirts of Mr. Bigg +are of so large a pattern that nobody but his haberdasher knows what that +pattern really is. You see a bit of it on one side of his collar which +looks square, and a bit of it on the other side which looks round. It +goes up his arm on one of his wristbands, and down his arm on the other. +Men who have seen his shirts off (if such a statement may be permitted), +and scattered loosely, to Sir John's horror, over all the chairs in the +Bedroom, have been questioned, and have not been found able to state that +their eyes ever followed out the patterns of any one of them fairly to +the end. In the matter of beautiful and expensive clothing for the neck, +Mr. Bigg is simply inexhaustible. Every morning he appears at breakfast +in a fresh scarf, and taps his egg magnificently with a daily blaze +of new colour glowing on his capacious chest, to charm the eyes of the +young ladies who sit opposite to him. All the other component parts of +Mr. Bigg's costume are of an equally grand and attractive kind, and are +set off by Mr. Bigg's enviable figure to equal advantage. Outside the +Bachelor Bedroom, he is altogether an irreproachable character in the +article of dress. Outside the Bachelor Bedroom, he is essentially a man +of the world, who can be depended on to perform any part allotted to him +in any society assembled at Coolcup House; who has lived among all ranks +and sorts of people; who has filled a public situation with great breadth +and dignity, and has sat at table with crowned heads, and played his part +there with distinction; who can talk of these experiences, and of others +akin to them, with curious fluency and ease, and can shift about to other +subjects, and pass the bottle, and carve, and draw out modest people, and +take all other social responsibilities on his own shoulders complacently, +at the largest and dreariest county dinner party that Sir John, to his +own great discomfiture, can be obliged to give. Such is Mr. Bigg in the +society of the house, when the door of the Bachelor Bedroom has closed +behind him. + +But what is Mr. Bigg, when he has courteously wished the ladies good +night, when he has secretly summoned the footman with the surreptitious +tray, and when he has deluded the unprincipled married men of the party +into having half an hour's cozy chat with him before they go up-stairs? +Another being--a being unknown to the ladies, and unsuspected by the +respectable guests. Inside the Bedroom, the outward aspect of Mr. Bigg +changes as if by magic; and a kind of gorgeous slovenliness pervades +him from top to toe. Buttons which have rigidly restrained him within +distinct physical boundaries, slip exhausted out of their buttonholes; +and the figure of Mr. Bigg suddenly expands and asserts itself for the +first time as a protuberant fact. His neckcloth flies on to the nearest +chair, his rigid shirt-collar yawns open, his wiry under-whiskers ooze +multitudinously into view, his coat, waistcoat, and braces drop off +his shoulders. If the two young ladies who sleep in the room above, and +who most unreasonably complain of the ceaseless nocturnal croaking and +growling of voices in the Bachelor Bedroom, could look down through the +ceiling now, they would not know Mr. Bigg again, and would suspect that +a dissipated artisan had intruded himself into Sir John's house. + +In the same way, the company who have sat in Mr. Bigg's neighbourhood at +the dinner-table at seven o'clock, would find it impossible to recognise +his conversation at midnight. Outside the Bachelor Bedroom, if his talk +has shown him to be anything at all, it has shown him to be the exact +reverse of an enthusiast. Inside the Bachelor Bedroom, after all due +attention has been paid to the cigar-box and the footman's tray, it +becomes unaccountably manifest to everybody that Mr. Bigg is, after all, +a fanatical character, a man possessed of one fixed idea. Then, and then +only, does he mysteriously confide to his fellow revellers that he is the +one remarkable man in Great Britain who has discovered the real authorship +of Junius's Letters. In the general society of the house, nobody ever +hears him refer to the subject; nobody ever suspects that he takes more +than the most ordinary interest in literary matters. In the select society +of the Bedroom, inspired by the surreptitious tray and the midnight +secrecy, wrapped in clouds of tobacco smoke, and freed from the restraint +of his own magnificent garments, the truth flies out of Mr. Bigg, and the +authorship of Junius's Letters becomes the one dreary subject which this +otherwise variously gifted man persists in dilating on for hours together. +But for the Bachelor Bedroom, nobody alive would ever have discovered that +the true key to unlock Mr. Bigg's character is Junius. If the subject is +referred to the next day by his companions of the night, he declines to +notice it; but, once in the Bedroom again, he takes it up briskly, as if +the attempted reference to it had been made but the moment before. The +last time I saw him was in the Bachelor Bedroom. It was three o'clock in +the morning; two tumblers were broken; half a lemon was in the soap-dish, +and the soap itself was on the chimney-piece; restless married rakes, +who were desperately afraid of waking up their wives when they left us, +were walking to and fro absently, and crunching knobs of loaf-sugar under +foot at every step; Mr. Bigg was standing, with his fourth cigar in his +mouth, before the fire; one of his hands was in the tumbled bosom of his +shirt, the other was grasping mine, while he pathetically appointed me his +literary executor, and generously bequeathed to me his great discovery +of the authorship of Junius's Letters. Upon the whole, Mr. Bigg is the +most incorrigible bachelor on record in the annals of the Bedroom; he +has consumed more candles, ordered more footmen's trays, seen more early +daylight, and produced more pale faces among the gentlemen at breakfast +time, than any other single visitor at Coolcup House. + + * * * * * + +The next bachelor in the order of succession, and the completest contrast +conceivable to Mr. Bigg, is Mr. Jeremy. + +Mr. Jeremy is, perhaps, the most miserable-looking little man that +ever tottered under the form of humanity. Wear what clothes he may, he +invariably looks shabby in them. He is the victim of perpetual accidents +and perpetual ill-health; and the Bachelor Bedroom, when he inhabits it, +is turned into a doctor's shop, and bristles all over with bottles and +pills. Mr. Jeremy's personal tribute to the hospitalities of Coolcup House +is always paid in the same singularly unsatisfactory manner to his host. +On one day in the week, he gorges himself gaily with food and drink, and +soars into the seventh heaven of convivial beatitude. On the other six, +he is invariably ill in consequence, is reduced to the utmost rigours +of starvation and physic, sinks into the lowest depths of depression, +and takes the bitterest imaginable views of human life. Hardly a single +accident has happened at Coolcup House in which he has not been personally +and chiefly concerned; hardly a single malady can occur to the human frame +the ravages of which he has not practically exemplified in his own person +under Sir John's roof. If any one guest, in the fruit season, terrifies +the rest by writhing under the internal penalties in such cases made +and provided by the laws of nature, it is Mr. Jeremy. If any one tumbles +up-stairs, or down-stairs, or off a horse, or out of a dog-cart, it is Mr. +Jeremy. If you want a case of sprained ankle, a case of suppressed gout, a +case of complicated earache, toothache, headache, and sore-throat, all in +one, a case of liver, a case of chest, a case of nerves, or a case of low +fever, go to Coolcup House while Mr. Jeremy is staying there, and he will +supply you, on demand, at the shortest notice and to any extent. It is +conjectured by the intimate friends of this extremely wretched bachelor, +that he has but two sources of consolation to draw on, as a set-off +against his innumerable troubles. The first is the luxury of twisting his +nose on one side, and stopping up his air-passages and Eustachian tubes +with inconceivably large quantities of strong snuff. The second is the +oleaginous gratification of incessantly anointing his miserable little +beard and mustachios with cheap bear's-grease, which always turns rancid +on the premises before he has half done with it. When Mr. Jeremy gives a +party in the Bachelor Bedroom, his guests have the unexpected pleasure +of seeing him take his physic, and hearing him describe his maladies +and recount his accidents. In other respects, the moral influence of the +Bedroom over the characters of those who occupy it, which exhibits Mr. +Bigg in the unexpected literary aspect of a commentator on Junius, is +found to tempt Mr. Jeremy into betraying a horrible triumph and interest +in the maladies of others, of which nobody would suspect him in the +general society of the house. + +"I noticed you, after dinner to-day," says this invalid bachelor, on such +occasions, to any one of the Bedroom guests who may be rash enough to +complain of the slightest uneasiness in his presence; "I saw the corners +of your mouth get green, and the whites of your eyes look yellow. You +have got a pain here," says Mr. Jeremy, gaily indicating the place to +which he refers on his own shattered frame, with an appearance of extreme +relish--"a pain _here_, and a sensation like having a cannon-ball inside +you, _there_. You will be parched with thirst and racked with fidgets +all to-night; and to-morrow morning you will get up with a splitting +headache, and a dark-brown tongue, and another cannon-ball in your inside. +My dear fellow, I'm a veteran at this sort of thing; and I know exactly +the state you will be in next week, and the week after, and when you will +have to try the sea-side, and how many pounds' weight you will lose to +a dead certainty, before you can expect to get over this attack. Suppose +we look under his ribs, on the right side of him?" continues Mr. Jeremy, +addressing himself confidentially to the company in general. "I'll lay +anybody five to one we find an alarming lump under the skin. And that lump +will be his liver!" + +Thus, while Mr. Bigg always astonishes the Bedroom guests on the subject +of Junius, Mr. Jeremy always alarms them on the subject of themselves. +Mr. Smart, the next, and third bachelor, placed in a similar situation, +displays himself under a more agreeable aspect, and makes the society that +surrounds him, for the night at least, supremely happy. + + * * * * * + +On the first day of his arrival at Coolcup House, Mr. Smart deceived us +all. When he was first presented to us, we were deeply impressed by the +serene solemnity of this gentleman's voice, look, manner, and costume. He +was as carefully dressed as Mr. Bigg himself, but on totally different +principles. Mr. Smart was fearfully and wonderfully gentlemanly in his +avoidance of anything approaching to bright colour on any part of his +body. Quakerish drabs and greys clothed him in the morning. Dismal black, +unrelieved by an atom of jewellery, undisturbed even by so much as a +flower in his button-hole, encased him grimly in the evening. He moved +about the room and the garden with a ghostly and solemn stalk. When the +ladies got brilliant in their conversation, he smiled upon them with a +deferential modesty and polite Grandisonian admiration that froze the +blood of "us youth" in our veins. When he spoke, it was like reading +a passage from an elegant moral writer--the words were so beautifully +arranged, the sentences were turned so musically, the sentiment conveyed +was so delightfully well regulated, so virtuously appropriate to nothing +in particular. At such times he always spoke in a slow, deep, and gentle +drawl, with a thrillingly clear emphasis on every individual syllable. His +speech sounded occasionally like a kind of highly-bred foreign English, +spoken by a distinguished stranger who had mastered the language to such +an extent that he had got beyond the natives altogether. We watched +enviously all day for any signs of human infirmity in this surprising +individual. The men detected him in nothing. Even the sharper eyes of +the women only discovered that he was addicted to looking at himself +affectionately in every glass in the house, when he thought that nobody +was noticing him. At dinner-time we all pinned our faith on Sir John's +excellent wine, and waited anxiously for its legitimate effect on the +superb and icy stranger. Nothing came of it; Mr. Smart was as carefully +guarded with the bottle as he was with the English language. All through +the evening he behaved himself so dreadfully well that we quite began to +hate him. When the company parted for the night, and when Mr. Smart (who +was just mortal enough to be a bachelor) invited us to a cigar in the +Bedroom, his highly-bred foreign English was still in full perfection; his +drawl had reached its elocutionary climax of rich and gentle slowness; and +his Grandisonian smile was more exasperatingly settled and composed than +ever. + +The Bedroom door closed on us. We took off our coats, tore open our +waistcoats, rushed in a body on the new bachelor's cigar-box, and summoned +the evil genius of the footman's tray. + +At the first round of the tumblers, the false Mr. Smart began to +disappear, and the true Mr. Smart approached, as it were, from a +visionary distance, and took his place among us. He chuckled--Grandison +chuckled--within the hearing of every man in the room! We were surprised +at that; but what were our sensations when, in less than ten minutes +afterwards, the highly-bred English and the gentle drawl mysteriously +disappeared, and there came bursting out upon us, from the ambush of +Mr. Smart's previous elocution, the jolliest, broadest, and richest +Irish brogue we had ever heard in our lives! The mystery was explained +now. Mr. Smart had a coat of the smoothest English varnish laid over +him, for highly-bred county society, which nothing mortal could peel +off but bachelor company and whiskey-and-water. He slipped out of his +close-fitting English envelope, in the loose atmosphere of the Bachelor +Bedroom, as glibly as a tightly-laced young lady slips out of her stays +when the admiring eyes of the world are off her waist for the night. Never +was man so changed as Mr. Smart was now. His moral sentiments melted like +the sugar in his grog; his grammar disappeared with his white cravat. +Wild and lavish generosity suddenly became the leading characteristic +of this once reticent man. We tried all sorts of subjects, and were +obliged to drop every one of them, because Mr. Smart would promise to +make us a present of whatever we talked about. The family mansion in +Ireland contained everything that this world can supply; and Mr. Smart +was resolved to dissipate that priceless store in gifts distributed to +the much-esteemed company. He promised me a schooner yacht, and made +a memorandum of the exact tonnage in his pocket-book. He promised my +neighbour, on one side, a horse, and, on the other, a unique autograph +letter of Shakespeare's. We had all three been talking respectively of +sailing, hunting, and the British Drama; and we now held our tongues for +fear of getting new presents if we tried new subjects. Other members of +the festive assembly took up the ball of conversation, and were prostrated +forthwith by showers of presents for their pains. When we all parted in +the dewy morning, we left Mr. Smart with dishevelled hair, checking off +his voluminous memoranda of gifts with an unsteady pencil, and piteously +entreating us, in the richest Irish-English, to correct him instantly if +we detected the slightest omission anywhere. + +The next morning, at breakfast, we rather wondered which nation +our friend would turn out to belong to. He set all doubts at rest +the moment he opened the door, by entering the room with the old +majestic stalk; saluting the ladies with the serene Grandison smile; +trusting we had all rested well during the night, in a succession of +elegantly-turned sentences; and enunciating the highly-bred English with +the imperturbably-gentle drawl which we all imagined, the night before, +that we had lost for ever. He stayed more than a fortnight at Coolcup +House; and, in all that time, nobody ever knew the true Mr. Smart except +the guests in the Bachelor Bedroom. + +The fourth Bachelor on the list deserves especial consideration and +attention. In the first place, because he presents himself to the reader, +in the character of a distinguished foreigner. In the second place, +because he contrived, in the most amiable manner imaginable, to upset +all the established arrangements of Coolcup House--inside the Bachelor +Bedroom, as well as outside it--from the moment when he entered its doors, +to the moment when he left them behind him on his auspicious return to his +native country. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a rare, probably a unique, +species of bachelor; and Mr. Bigg, Mr. Jeremy, and Mr. Smart have no claim +whatever to stand in the faintest light of comparison with him. + +When I mention that the distinguished guest now introduced to notice is +Herr von Müffe, it will be unnecessary for me to add that I refer to the +distinguished German poet, whose far-famed Songs Without Sense have aided +so immeasurably in thickening the lyric obscurities of his country's +Harp. On his arrival in London, Herr von Müffe forwarded his letter of +introduction to Sir John by post, and immediately received, in return, +the usual hospitable invitation to Coolcup House. + +The eminent poet arrived barely in time to dress for dinner; and made his +first appearance in our circle while we were waiting in the drawing-room +for the welcome signal of the bell. He waddled in among us softly and +suddenly, in the form of a very short, puffy, florid, roundabout old +gentleman, with flowing grey hair and a pair of huge circular spectacles. +The extreme shabbiness and dinginess of his costume was so singularly set +off by the quantity of foreign orders of merit which he wore all over the +upper part of it, that a sarcastic literary gentleman among the guests +defined him to me, in a whisper, as a compound of "decorations and dirt." +Sir John advanced to greet his distinguished guest, with friendly right +hand extended as usual. Herr von Müffe, without saying a word, took the +hand carefully in both his own, and expressed affectionate recognition +of English hospitality, by transferring it forthwith to that vacant space +between his shirt and his waistcoat which extended over the region of the +heart. Sir John turned scarlet, and tried vainly to extricate his hand +from the poet's too affectionate bosom. The dinner-bell rang, but Herr +von Müffe still held fast. The principal lady in the company half rose, +and looked perplexedly at her host--Sir John made another and a desperate +effort to escape--failed again--and was marched into the dining-room, +in full view of his servants and his guests, with his hand sentimentally +imprisoned in his foreign visitor's waistcoat. + +After this romantic beginning, Herr von Müffe rather surprised us by +showing that he was decidedly the reverse of a sentimentalist in the +matter of eating and drinking. + +Neither dish nor bottle passed the poet, without paying heavy tribute, +all through the repast. He mixed his liquors, especially, with the most +sovereign contempt for all sanitary considerations; drinking champagne +and beer, the sweetest Constantia and the tawniest port, all together, +with every appearance of the extremest relish. Conversation with Herr +von Müffe, both at dinner, and all through the evening, was found to be +next to impossible, in consequence of his knowing all languages (his +own included) equally incorrectly. His German was pronounced to be a +dialect never heard before; his French was inscrutable; his English was +a philological riddle which all of us guessed at and none of us found +out. He talked, in spite of these difficulties, incessantly; and, seeing +that he shed tears several times in the course of the evening, the +ladies assumed that his topics were mostly of a pathetic nature, while +the coarser men compared notes with each other, and all agreed that the +distinguished guest was drunk. When the time came for retiring, we had +to invite ourselves into the Bachelor Bedroom; Herr von Müffe having no +suspicion of our customary midnight orgies, and apparently feeling no +desire to entertain us, until we informed him of the institution of the +footman's tray--when he became hospitable on a sudden, and unreasonably +fond of his gay young English friends. + +While we were settling ourselves in our places round the bed, a member of +the company kicked over one of the poet's capacious Wellington boots. To +the astonishment of every one, there instantly ensued a tinkling of coin, +and some sovereigns and shillings rolled surprisingly out on the floor +from the innermost recesses of the boot. On receiving his money back, Herr +von Müffe informed us, without the slightest appearance of embarrassment, +that he had not had time, before dinner, to take more than his watch, +rings, and decorations, out of his boots. Seeing us all stare at this +incomprehensible explanation, our distinguished friend kindly endeavoured +to enlighten us further by a long personal statement in his own polyglot +language. From what we could understand of this narrative (which was not +much), we gathered that Herr von Müffe had started at noon, that day, as a +total stranger in our metropolis, to reach the London-bridge station in a +cab; and that the driver had taken him, as usual, across Waterloo-bridge. +On going through the Borough, the narrow streets, miserable houses, and +squalid population, had struck the lively imagination of Herr von Müffe, +and had started in his mind a horrible suspicion that the cabman was +driving him into a low neighbourhood, with the object of murdering a +helpless foreign fare, in perfect security, for the sake of the valuables +he carried on his person. Chilled to the very marrow of his bones by +this idea, the poet raised the ends of his trousers stealthily in the +cab, slipped his watch, rings, orders, and money into the legs of his +Wellington boots, arrived at the station quaking with mortal terror, and +screamed "Help!" at the top of his voice, when the railway policeman +opened the cab door. The immediate starting of the train had left him +no time to alter the singular travelling arrangements he had made in the +Borough; and he arrived at Coolcup House, the only individual who had ever +yet entered that mansion with his property in his boots. + +Amusing as it was in itself, this anecdote failed a little in its effect +on us at the time, in consequence of the stifling atmosphere in which we +were condemned to hear it. + +Although it was then the sultry middle of summer, and we were all smoking, +Herr von Müffe insisted on keeping the windows of the Bachelor Bedroom +fast closed, because it was one of his peculiarities to distrust the +cooling effect of the night air. We were more than half inclined to go, +under these circumstances; and we were altogether determined to remove, +when the tray came in, and when we found our German friend madly mixing +his liquors again by pouring gin and sherry together into the same +tumbler. We warned him, with a shuddering prevision of consequences, that +he was mistaking gin for water; and he blandly assured us in return that +he was doing nothing of the kind. "It is good for My ----" said Herr von +Müffe, supplying his ignorance of the word stomach by laying his chubby +forefinger on the organ in question, with a sentimental smile. "It is bad +for Our ----" retorted the wag of the party, imitating the poet's action, +and turning quickly to the door. We all followed him--and, for the first +time in the annals of Coolcup House, the Bachelor Bedroom was emptied of +company before midnight. + +Early the next morning, one of Sir John's younger sons burst into my room +in a state of violent excitement. + +"I say, what's to be done with Müffe?" inquired the young gentleman, with +wildly staring eyes. + +"Open his windows, and fetch the doctor," I answered, inspired by the +recollections of the past night. + +"Doctor!" cried the boy; "the doctor won't do--it's the barber." + +"Barber?" I repeated. + +"He's been asking me _to shave him_!" roared my young friend, with +vehement comic indignation. "He rang his bell, and asked for 'the Son of +the House'--and they made me go; and there he was, grinning in the big +arm-chair, with his mangy little shaving-brush in his hand, and a towel +over his shoulder. 'Good morning, my dear. Can you shave My ----' says he, +and taps his quivering old double chin with his infernal shaving-brush. +Curse his impudence! What's to be done with him?" + +I arranged to explain to Herr von Müffe, at the first convenient +opportunity, that it was not the custom in England, whatever it might be +in Germany, for "the Son of the House" to shave his father's guests; and +undertook, at the same time, to direct the poet to the residence of the +village barber. When the German guest joined us at breakfast, his unshaven +chin, and the external results of his mixed potations and his seclusion +from fresh air, by no means tended to improve his personal appearance. In +plain words, he looked the picture of dyspeptic wretchedness. + +"I am afraid, sir, you are hardly so well this morning as we could all +wish?" said Sir John, kindly. + +Herr von Müffe looked at his host affectionately, surveyed the company +all round the table, smiled faintly, laid the chubby forefinger once +more on the organ whose name he did not know, and answered with the most +enchanting innocence and simplicity: + +"I am _so_ sick!" + +There was no harm--upon my word, there was no harm in Herr Von Müffe. +On the contrary, there was a great deal of good-nature and genuine +simplicity in his composition. But he was a man naturally destitute of +all power of adapting himself to new persons and new circumstances; and +he became amiably insupportable, in consequence, to everybody in the +house, throughout the whole term of his visit. He could not join one of +us in any country diversions. He hung about the house and garden in a +weak, pottering, aimless manner, always turning up at the wrong moment, +and always attaching himself to the wrong person. He was dexterous in a +perfectly childish way at cutting out little figures of shepherds and +shepherdesses in paper; and he was perpetually presenting these frail +tributes of admiration to the ladies, who always tore them up and threw +them away in secret the moment his back was turned. When he was not +occupied with his paper figures, he was out in the garden, gathering +countless little nosegays, and sentimentally presenting them to everybody; +not to the ladies only, but to lusty agricultural gentlemen as well, +who accepted them with blank amazement; and to schoolboys, home for +the holidays, who took them, bursting with internal laughter at the +"molly-coddle" gentleman from foreign parts. As for poor Sir John, he +suffered more than any of us; for Herr von Müffe was always trying to kiss +him. In short, with the best intentions in the world, this unhappy foreign +bachelor wearied out the patience of everybody in the house; and, to our +shame be it said, we celebrated his departure, when he left us at last, +by a festival-meeting in the Bachelor Bedroom, in honour of the welcome +absence of Herr von Müffe. + +I cannot say in what spirit my fellow-revellers have reflected on our +behaviour since that time; but I know, for my own part, that I now look +back at my personal share in our proceedings with rather an uneasy +conscience. I am afraid we were all of us a little hard on Herr von +Müffe; and I hereby desire to offer him my own individual tribute of tardy +atonement, by leaving him to figure as the last and crowning type of the +Bachelor species presented in these pages. If he has produced anything +approaching to a pleasing effect on the reader's mind, that effect shall +not be weakened by the appearance of any more single men, native or +foreign. Let the door of the Bachelor Bedroom close with our final glimpse +of the German guest; and permit the present chronicler to lay down the +pen when it has traced penitently, for the last time, the name of Herr +von Müffe. + + + + +NOOKS AND CORNERS OF HISTORY. + +III. + +A REMARKABLE REVOLUTION. + + +A revolution which is serious enough to overthrow a reigning +sovereign--which is short enough to last only nine hours--and which is +peaceable enough to begin and end without the taking of a single life or +the shedding of a drop of blood, is certainly a phenomenon in the history +of human affairs which is worth being carefully investigated. Such a +revolution actually happened, in the empire of Russia, little more than a +century and a quarter ago. The narrative here attempted of its rise, its +progress, and its end, may be trusted throughout as faithful to the truth. +Extraordinary as they may appear, the events described in this fragment +of history are matters of fact from first to last. + +We start with a famous Russian character--Peter the Great. His son, who +may be not unfairly distinguished as Peter the Small, died in the year +seventeen hundred and thirty. With the death of this last personage the +political difficulties arose, which ended in the easy pulling down of one +sovereign ruler at midnight, and the easy setting up of another by nine +o'clock the next morning. + +Besides the son whom he left to succeed him, Peter the Great had a +daughter, whose title was princess, and whose name was Elizabeth. Peter's +widow, the famous Empress Catherine, being a far-seeing woman, made a will +which contained the expression of her wishes in regard to the succession +to the throne, and which plainly and properly designated the Princess +Elizabeth (there being no Salic law in Russia) as the reigning sovereign +to be chosen after the death of her brother, Peter the Small. Nothing, +apparently, could be more straightforward than the course to be followed, +at that time, in appointing a new ruler over the Russian people. + +But there happened to be living at Court two noblemen--Prince d'Olgorowki +and Count Osterman--who had an interest of their own in complicating the +affairs connected with the succession. + +These two distinguished personages had possessed considerable power and +authority, under the feeble reign of Peter the Small, and they knew enough +of his sister's resolute and self-reliant character to doubt what might +become of their court position and their political privileges after the +Princess Elizabeth was seated on the throne. Accordingly they lost no +time in nominating a rival candidate of their own choosing, whom they +dexterously raised to the Imperial dignity, before there was time for the +partisans of the Princess Elizabeth to dispute the authority under which +they acted. The new sovereign, thus unjustly invested with power, was a +woman--Anne, Dowager Duchess of Courland--and the pretence under which +Prince d'Olgorowki and Count Osterman proclaimed her Empress of Russia, +was that Peter the Small had confidentially communicated to them, on +his death-bed, a desire that the Dowager Duchess should be chosen as the +sovereign to succeed him. + +The main result of the Dowager Duchess's occupation of the throne was the +additional complication of the confused political affairs of Russia. The +new empress had an eye to the advancement of her family; and, among the +other relatives for whom she provided, was a niece, named Catherine, whom +she married to the Prince of Brunswick, brother-in-law of the King of +Prussia. The first child born of the marriage was a boy named Ivan. Before +he had reached the age of two years, the new Empress died; and, when her +will was opened, it was discovered, to the amazement of every one, that +she had appointed this child to succeed her on the throne of Russia. + +The private motive which led the Empress to take this extraordinary +course, was her desire to place the sovereign power in the hands of one +of her favourites, the Duke de Biren, by nominating that nobleman as the +guardian of the infant Ivan. To accomplish this purpose, she had not only +slighted the legitimate claims of Peter the Great's daughter, the Princess +Elizabeth, but had also entirely overlooked the interests of Ivan's +mother, who naturally felt that she had a right to ascend the throne, +as the nearest relation of the deceased empress, and the mother of the +child who was designated to be the future emperor. To the bewilderment and +dissatisfaction thus produced, a further element of confusion was added by +the total incapacity of the Duke de Biren to occupy creditably the post +of authority which had been assigned to him. Before he had been long in +office, he gave way altogether under the double responsibility of guiding +the affairs of Russia and directing the education of the future emperor. +Ivan's mother saw the chance of asserting her rights which the weakness +of the duke afforded to her. She was a resolute woman; and she seized her +opportunity by banishing Biren to Siberia, and taking his place as Regent +of the Empire and guardian of her infant son. + +Such was the result, thus far, of the great scramble for the crown which +began with the death of the son of Peter the Great. Such was the position +of affairs in Russia at the time when the revolution broke out. + +Through all the contentions which distracted the country, the Princess +Elizabeth lived in the retirement of her own palace, waiting secretly, +patiently, and vigilantly for the fit opportunity of asserting her rights. +She was, in every sense of the word, a remarkable woman, and she numbered +two remarkable men among the adherents of her cause. One was the French +ambassador at the court of Russia, the Marquis de la Chétardie. The other +was the surgeon of Elizabeth's household, a German, named Lestoc. The +Frenchman had money to spend; the German had brains to plot. Both were +men of tried courage and resolute will; and both were destined to take +the foremost places in the coming struggle. It is certainly not the least +curious circumstance in the extraordinary revolution which we are now +about to describe, that it was planned and carried out by two foreigners. +In the struggle for the Russian throne, the natives of the Russian soil +were used only as instruments to be handled and directed at the pleasure +of the French ambassador and the German surgeon. + +The Marquis and Lestoc, watching the signs of the times, arrived at the +conclusion that the period of the banishment of the Duke de Biren and +of the assumption of the supreme power by the mother of Ivan, was also +the period for effecting the revolution which was to place the Princess +Elizabeth on the throne of her ancestors. The dissatisfaction in Russia +had, by this time, spread widely among all classes. The people chafed +under a despotism inflicted on them by foreigners. The native nobility +felt outraged by their exclusion from privileges which had been conceded +to their order under former reigns, before the aliens from Courland had +seized on power. The army was for the most part to be depended on to +answer any bold appeal that might be made to it, in favour of the daughter +of Peter the Great. With these chances in their favour, the Frenchman +and the German set themselves to the work of organising the scattered +elements of discontent. The Marquis opened his well-filled purse; and +Surgeon Lestoc prowled about the city and the palace with watchful eyes, +with persuasive tongue, with delicately-bribing hands. The great point +to be achieved was to tamper successfully with the regiment on duty at +the palace; and this was skilfully and quickly accomplished by Lestoc. +In the course of a few days only, he contrived to make sure of all the +considerable officers of the regiment, and of certain picked men from the +ranks besides. On counting heads, the members of the military conspiracy +thus organised came to thirty-three. Exactly the same number of men had +once plotted the overthrow of Julius Cæsar, and had succeeded in the +attempt. + +Matters had proceeded thus far when the suspicions of the Duchess +Regent (that being the title which Ivan's mother had now assumed) were +suddenly excited, without the slightest apparent cause to arouse them. +Nothing dangerous had been openly attempted as yet, and not one of the +conspirators had betrayed the secret. Nevertheless the Duchess Regent +began to doubt; and, one morning, she astonished and alarmed the Marquis +and Lestoc by sending, without any previous warning, for the Princess +Elizabeth, and by addressing a series of searching questions to her at a +private interview. Fortunately for the success of the plot, the daughter +of Peter the Great was more than a match for the Duchess Regent. From +first to last Elizabeth proved herself equal to the dangerous situation +in which she was placed. The Duchess discovered nothing; and the heads of +the thirty-three conspirators remained safe on their shoulders. + +This piece of good fortune operated on the cunning and resolute Lestoc +as a warning to make haste. Between the danger of waiting to mature the +conspiracy, and the risk of letting it break out abruptly before the +organisation of it was complete, he chose the latter alternative. The +Marquis agreed with him that it was best to venture everything, before +there was time for the suspicions of the Duchess to be renewed; and the +Princess Elizabeth, on her part, was perfectly ready to be guided by the +advice of her two trusty adherents. The fifteenth of January, seventeen +hundred and forty-one, had been the day originally fixed for the breaking +out of the revolution. Lestoc now advanced the period for making the great +attempt by nine days. On the night of the sixth of January the Duchess +Regent and the Princess Elizabeth were to change places, and the throne +of Russia was to become once more the inheritance of the family of Peter +the Great. + +Between nine and ten o'clock, on the night of the sixth, Surgeon Lestoc +strolled out, with careless serenity on his face, and devouring anxiety +at his heart, to play his accustomed game of billiards at a French +coffee-house. The stakes were ten ducats, and Lestoc did not play quite +so well as usual that evening. When the clock of the coffee-house struck +ten, he stopped in the middle of the game, and drew out his watch. + +"I beg ten thousand pardons," he said to the gentleman with whom he was +playing; "but I am afraid I must ask you to let me go before the game +is done. I have a patient to see at ten o'clock, and the hour has just +struck. Here is a friend of mine," he continued, bringing forward one +of the bystanders by the arm, "who will, with your permission, play in +my place. It is quite immaterial to me whether he loses or whether he +wins: I am merely anxious that your game should not be interrupted. Ten +thousand pardons again. Nothing but the necessity of seeing a patient +could have induced me to be guilty of this apparent rudeness. I wish you +much pleasure, gentlemen, and I most unwillingly bid you good night." + +With that polite farewell, he departed. The patient whom he was going to +cure was the sick Russian Empire. + +He got into his sledge, and drove off to the palace of the Princess +Elizabeth. She trembled a little when he told her quietly that the hour +had come for possessing herself of the throne; but, soon recovering +her spirits, dressed to go out, concealed a knife about her in case of +emergency, and took her place by the side of Lestoc in the sledge. The +two then set forth together for the French embassy to pick up the second +leader of the conspiracy. + +They found the Marquis alone, cool, smiling, humming a gay French tune, +and quietly amusing himself by making a drawing. Elizabeth and Lestoc +looked over his shoulder, and the former started a little when she +saw what the subject of the drawing was. In the background appeared a +large monastery, a grim prison-like building, with barred windows and +jealously-closed gates; in the foreground were two high gibbets and two +wheels of the sort used to break criminals on. The drawing was touched +in with extraordinary neatness and steadiness of hand; and the Marquis +laughed gaily when he saw how seriously the subject represented had +startled and amazed the Princess Elizabeth. + +"Courage, madam!" he said. "I was only amusing myself by making a sketch +illustrative of the future which we may all three expect if we fail in +our enterprise. In an hour from this time, you will be on the throne, +or on your way to this ugly building." (He touched the monastery in the +background of the drawing lightly with the point of his pencil.) "In an +hour from this time, also, our worthy Lestoc and myself will either be the +two luckiest men in Russia, or the two miserable criminals who are bound +on these" (he touched the wheels) "and hung up afterwards on those" (he +touched the gibbets). "You will pardon me, madam, for indulging in this +ghastly fancy? I was always eccentric from childhood. My good Lestoc, as +we seem to be quite ready, perhaps you will kindly precede us to the door, +and allow me the honour of handing the Princess to the sledge?" + +They left the house, laughing and chatting as carelessly as if they were +a party going to the theatre. Lestoc took the reins. "To the palace of +the Duchess Regent, coachman!" said the Marquis, pleasantly. And to the +palace they went. + +They made no attempt to slip in by backdoors, but boldly drove up to the +grand entrance, inside of which the guard-house was situated. + +"Who goes there?" cried the sentinel as they left the sledge and passed in. + +The Marquis took a pinch of snuff. + +"Don't you see, my good fellow?" he said. "A lady and two gentlemen." + +The slightest irregularity was serious enough to alarm the guard at +the Imperial palace in those critical times. The sentinel presented his +musket at the Marquis, and a drummer-boy who was standing near, ran to +his instrument and caught up his drum-sticks to beat the alarm. + +Before the sentinel could fire, he was surrounded by the thirty-three +conspirators, and was disarmed in an instant. Before the drummer-boy could +beat the alarm, the Princess Elizabeth had drawn out her knife and had +stabbed--not the boy, but--the drum! These slight preliminary obstacles +being thus disposed of, Lestoc and the Marquis, having the Princess +between them, and being followed by their thirty-three adherents, marched +resolutely into the great hall of the palace, and there confronted the +entire guard. + +"Gentlemen," said the Marquis, "I have the honour of presenting you to +your future empress, the daughter of Peter the Great." + +Half the guard had been bribed by the cunning Lestoc. The other half, +seeing their comrades advance and pay homage to the Princess, followed the +example of loyalty. Elizabeth was escorted into a room on the ground-floor +by a military court formed in the course of five minutes. The Marquis and +the faithful thirty-three went up-stairs to the sleeping apartments of +the palace. Lestoc ran out, and ordered a carriage to be got ready--then +joined the Marquis and the conspirators. The Duchess Regent and her child +were just retiring for the night, when the German surgeon and the French +ambassador politely informed them that they were prisoners. Entreaties +were of no avail; resistance was out of the question. Both mother and son +were led down to the carriage that Lestoc had ordered, and were driven +off, under a strong guard, to the fortress of Riga. + +The palace was secured, and the Duchess was imprisoned, but Lestoc and +the Marquis had not done their night's work yet. It was necessary to make +sure of three powerful personages connected with the government. Three +more carriages were ordered out when the Duchess's carriage had been +driven off; and three noblemen--among them Count Osterman, the original +cause of the troubles in Russia--were woke out of their first sleep with +the information that they were state prisoners, and were started before +daylight on their way to Siberia. At the same time, the thirty-three +conspirators were scattered about in every barrack-room in St. Petersburg, +proclaiming Elizabeth Empress, in right of her illustrious parentage, +and in the name of the Russian people. Soon after daylight, the moment +the working population was beginning to be astir, the churches were +occupied by trusty men under Lestoc's orders, and the oaths of fidelity +to Elizabeth were administered to the willing populace as fast as they +came in to morning prayers. By nine o'clock the work was done; the people +were satisfied; the army was gained over; Elizabeth sat on her father's +throne, unopposed, unquestioned, unstained by the shedding of a drop of +blood; and Lestoc and the Marquis could rest from their labours at last, +and could say to each other with literal truth, "The government of Russia +has been changed in nine hours, and we two foreigners are the men who have +worked the miracle!" + + * * * * * + +This was the Russian revolution of seventeen hundred and forty-one. It +was not the less effectual because it had lasted but a few hours, and had +been accomplished without the sacrifice of a single life. The Imperial +inheritance which it had placed in the hands of Elizabeth was not snatched +from them again. The daughter of the great Czar lived and died Empress of +Russia. + +And what became of the two men who had won the throne for her? The story +of the after-conduct of the Marquis and Lestoc must answer that question. +The events of the revolution itself are hardly more strange than the +events in the lives of the French Ambassador and the German surgeon, +when the brief struggle was over, and the change in the dynasty was +accomplished. + +To begin with the Marquis. He had laid the Princess Elizabeth under +serious obligations to his courage and fidelity; and his services were +repaid by such a reward as, in his vainest moments, he could never have +dared to hope for. His fidelity had excited Elizabeth's gratitude, but his +personal qualities had done more--they had touched her heart. As soon as +she was settled quietly on the throne, she proved her admiration of his +merits, his services, and himself by offering to marry him. + +This proposal, which conferred on the Marquis the highest distinction in +Russia, fairly turned his brain. The imperturbable man who had preserved +his coolness in a situation of the deadliest danger, lost all control over +himself the moment he rose to the climax of prosperity. Having obtained +leave of absence from his Imperial mistress, he returned to France to ask +leave from his own sovereign to marry the Empress. This permission was +readily granted. After receiving it, any man of ordinary discretion would +have kept the fact of the Empress's partiality for him as strictly secret +as possible, until it could be openly avowed on the marriage-day. Far from +this, the Marquis's vanity led him to proclaim the brilliant destiny in +store for him all over Paris. He commissioned the King's genealogist to +construct a pedigree which should be made to show that he was not unworthy +to contract a royal alliance. When the pedigree was completed he had the +incredible folly to exhibit it publicly, along with the keepsakes which +the Empress had given to him, and the rich presents which he intended +to bestow as marks of his favour on the lords and ladies of the Russian +court. Nor did his imprudence end even here. When he returned to St. +Petersburg, he took back with him, among the other persons comprising his +train, a woman of loose character, dressed in the disguise of a page. The +persons about the Russian court, whose prejudices he had never attempted +to conciliate--whose envy at his success waited only for the slightest +opportunity to effect his ruin--suspected the sex of the pretended page, +and took good care that the report of their suspicions should penetrate +gradually to the foot of the throne. It seems barely credible, but it +is, nevertheless, unquestionably the fact, that the infatuated Marquis +absolutely allowed the Empress an opportunity of seeing his page. +Elizabeth's eye, sharpened by jealousy, penetrated instantly to the truth. +Any less disgraceful insult she would probably have forgiven, but such +an outrage as this, no woman--especially no woman in her position--could +pardon. With one momentary glance of anger and disdain, she dismissed the +Marquis from her presence, and never, from that moment, saw him again. + +The same evening his papers were seized, all the presents that he had +received from the Empress were taken from him, and he was ordered to +leave the Russian dominions for ever, within eight days' time. He was +not allowed to write, or take any other means of attempting to justify +himself; and, on his way back to his native country, he was followed to +the frontier by certain officers of the Russian army, and there stripped, +with every mark of ignominy, of all the orders of nobility which he had +received from the Imperial court. He returned to Paris a disgraced man, +lived there in solitude, obscurity, and neglect for some years, and died +in a state of positive want--the unknown inhabitant of one of the meanest +dwellings in the whole city. + + * * * * * + +The end of Lestoc is hardly less remarkable than the end of the Marquis. + +In their weak points, as in their strong, the characters of these +two men seem to have been singularly alike. Making due allowance for +the difference in station between the German surgeon and the French +ambassador, it is undeniable that Elizabeth showed her sense of the +services of Lestoc as gratefully and generously as she had shown her +sense of the services of the Marquis. The ex-surgeon was raised at once +to the position of the chief favourite and the most powerful man about +the Court. Besides the privileges which he shared equally with the highest +nobles of the period, he was allowed access to the Empress on all private +as well as on all public occasions. He had a perpetual right of entry +into her domestic circle, which was conceded to no one else; and he held +a place, on days of public reception, that placed him on an eminence to +which no other man in Russia could hope to attain. Such was his position; +and, strange to say, it had precisely the same maddening effect on his +vanity which the prospect of an imperial alliance had exercised over +the vanity of the Marquis. Lestoc's audacity became ungovernable; his +insolence knew no bounds. He abused the privileges conferred upon him by +Elizabeth's grateful regard, with such baseness and such indelicacy, that +the Empress, after repeatedly cautioning him in the friendliest possible +terms, found herself obliged, out of regard to her own reputation and to +the remonstrances which assailed her from all the persons of her Court, +to deprive him of the privilege of entry into her private apartments. + +This check, instead of operating as a timely warning to Lestoc, irritated +him into the commission of fresh acts of insolence, so wanton in their +nature that Elizabeth at last lost all patience, and angrily reproached +him with the audacious ingratitude of his behaviour. The reproach was +retorted by Lestoc, who fiercely accused the Empress of forgetting the +great services that he had rendered her, and declared that he would turn +his back on her and her dominions, after first resenting the contumely +with which he had been treated by an act of revenge that she would +remember to the day of her death. + +The vengeance which he had threatened proved to be the vengeance of a +forger and a cheat. The banker in St. Petersburg who was charged with the +duty of disbursing the sums of state money which were set apart for the +Empress's use, received an order, one day, to pay four hundred thousand +ducats to a certain person who was not mentioned by name, but who, it was +stated, would call, with the proper credentials, to receive the money. The +banker was struck by this irregular method of performing the preliminaries +of an important matter of business, and he considered it to be his duty to +show the document which he had received to one of the Ministers. Secret +inquiries were immediately set on foot, and they ended in the discovery +that the order was a false one, and that the man who had forged it was no +other than Lestoc. + +For a crime of this kind the punishment was death. But the Empress +had declared, on her accession, that she would sign no warrant for the +taking away of life during her reign, and, moreover, she still generously +remembered what she had owed in former times to Lestoc. Accordingly, she +changed his punishment to a sentence of exile to Siberia, with special +orders that the life of the banished man should be made as easy to him as +possible. He had not passed many years in the wildernesses of Siberia, +before Elizabeth's strong sense of past obligation to him, induced her +still further to lighten his punishment by ordering that he should be +brought back to St. Petersburg, and confined in the fortress there, +where her own eyes might assure her that he was treated with mercy and +consideration. It is probable that she only intended this change as a +prelude to the restoration of his liberty; but the future occasion for +pardoning him never came. Shortly after his return to St. Petersburg, +Lestoc ended his days in the prison of the fortress. + +So the two leaders of the Russian revolution lived, and so they died. It +has been said, and said well, that the only sure proof of a man's strength +of mind is to be discovered by observing the manner in which he bears +success. History shows few such remarkable examples of the truth of this +axiom as are afforded by the lives of the Marquis de la Chétardie and +the German surgeon Lestoc. Two stronger men in the hour of peril and two +weaker men in the hour of security, have not often appeared in this world +to vanquish adverse circumstances like heroes, and to be conquered like +cowards afterwards by nothing but success. + + + + +DOUGLAS JERROLD.[B] + + +Some seventy years ago, there lived a poor country player, named Samuel +Jerrold. His principal claim to a prominent position among the strolling +company to which he was attached, consisted in the possession of a pair of +shoes once belonging to the great Garrick himself. Samuel Jerrold always +appeared on the stage in these invaluable "properties"--a man, surely, +who deserves the regard of posterity, as the only actor of modern times +who has shown himself capable of standing in Garrick's shoes. + +Samuel Jerrold was twice married--the second time to a wife so much his +junior that he was older than his own mother-in-law. Partly, perhaps, +in virtue of this last great advantage on the part of the husband, the +marriage was a very happy one. The second Mrs. Samuel was a clever, +good-tempered, notable woman; and helped her husband materially in his +theatrical affairs, when he rose in time (and in Garrick's shoes) to be +a manager of country theatres. Young Mrs. Samuel brought her husband a +family--two girls to begin with; and, on the third of January, eighteen +hundred and three, while she was staying in London, a boy, who was +christened Douglas William, and who was destined, in after life, to make +the name of the obscure country manager a household word on the lips of +English readers. + +In the year eighteen hundred and seven, Samuel Jerrold became the +lessee of the Sheerness Theatre; and little Douglas was there turned to +professional account, as a stage-child. He appeared in _The Stranger_ as +one of the little cherubs of the frail and interesting Mrs. Haller; and +he was "carried on" by Edmund Kean, as the child in _Rolla_. These early +theatrical experiences (whatever influence they might have had, at a later +time, in forming his instincts as a dramatist) do not appear to have at +all inclined him towards his father's profession when he grew older. The +world of ships and sailors amid which he lived at Sheerness, seems to +have formed his first tastes and influenced his first longings. As soon +as he could speak for himself on the matter of his future prospects, he +chose the life of a sailor; and, at ten years old, he entered on board +the guardship, Namur, as a first-class volunteer. + +Up to this time the father had given the son as good an education as it +lay within his means to command. Douglas had been noted as a studious +boy at school; and he brought with him a taste for reading and for quiet +pursuits when he entered on board the Namur. Beginning his apprenticeship +to the sea as a Midshipman, in December, eighteen hundred and thirteen, +he was not transferred from the guardship to active service until April, +eighteen hundred and fifteen, when he was drafted off, with forty-six men, +to his Majesty's gun-brig, Ernest. + +Those were stirring times. The fierce struggle of Waterloo was at hand; +and Douglas's first cruise was across the Channel to Ostend, at the head +of a fleet of transports carrying troops and stores to the battle-field. +Singularly enough, his last cruise connected him with the results of the +great fight, as his first had connected him with the preparations for +it. In the July of the Waterloo year, the Ernest brought her share of the +wounded back to Sheerness. On the deck of that brig, Jerrold first stood +face to face with the horror of war. In after life, when other pens were +writing glibly enough of the glory of war, his pen traced the dark reverse +of the picture, and set the terrible consequences of all victories, +righteous as well as wicked, in their true light. + +The great peace was proclaimed, and the nations rested at last. In +October, eighteen hundred and fifteen, the Ernest was "paid off." Jerrold +stepped on shore, and never returned to the service. He was without +interest; and the peace virtually closed his professional prospects. To +the last day of his life he had a genuinely English love for the sea and +sailors; and, short as his naval experience had been, neither he nor his +countrymen were altogether losers by it. If the Midshipman of the Ernest +had risen to be an Admiral, what would have become then of the author of +Black-Eyed Susan? + +Douglas's prospects were far from cheering when he returned to his home +on shore. The affairs of Samuel Jerrold (through no fault of his own) had +fallen into sad confusion. In his old age his vocation of manager sank +from under him; his theatre was sold; and, at the end of the Waterloo +year, he and his family found themselves compelled to leave Sheerness. +On the first day of eighteen hundred and sixteen they sailed away in the +Chatham boat, to try their fortune in London. + +The first refuge of the Jerrolds was at Broad Court, Bow Street. Poor +old Samuel was now past his work; and the chief dependence of the ruined +family rested on Douglas and his mother. Mrs. Samuel contrived to get +some theatrical employment in London; and Douglas, after beginning life +as an officer in the navy, was apprenticed to a printer, in Northumberland +Street, Strand. + +He accepted his new position with admirable cheerfulness and resolution; +honestly earning his money, and affectionately devoting it to the +necessities of his parents. A delightful anecdote of him, at this time +of his life, is told by his son. On one of the occasions when his mother +and sister were absent in the country, the little domestic responsibility +of comforting the poor worn-out old father with a good dinner, rested +on Douglas's shoulders. With the small proceeds of his work, he bought +all the necessary materials for a good beef-steak pie--made the pie +himself, succeeding brilliantly with the crust--himself took it to the +bake-house--and himself brought it back, with one of Sir Walter Scott's +novels, which the dinner left him just money enough to hire from a +library, for the purpose of reading a story to his father in the evening, +by way of dessert. For our own parts, we shall henceforth always rank that +beef-steak pie as one among the many other works of Douglas Jerrold which +have established his claim to remembrance and to regard. The clue to the +bright affectionate nature of the man--sometimes lost by those who knew +him imperfectly, in after life--could hardly be found in any pleasanter +or better place, now that he is gone from among us, than on the poor +dinner-table in Broad Court. + +Although he was occupied for twelve hours out of the twenty-four at the +printing-office, he contrived to steal time enough from the few idle +intervals allowed for rest and meals, to store his mind with all the +reading that lay within his reach. As early as at the age of fourteen, +the literary faculty that was in him seems to have struggled to develop +itself in short papers and scraps of verse. Only a year later, he made +his first effort at dramatic composition, producing a little farce, with +a part in it for an old friend of the family, the late Mr. Wilkinson, the +comedian. Although Samuel Jerrold was well remembered among many London +actors as an honest country manager; and although Douglas could easily +secure, from his father's friends, his admission to the theatre whenever +he was able to go to it, he does not appear to have possessed interest +enough to gain a reading for his piece when it was first sent in to the +English Opera House. After three years had elapsed, however, Mr. Wilkinson +contrived to get the lad's farce produced at Sadler's Wells, under the +title of More Frightened than Hurt. It was not only successful on its +first representation, but it also won the rare honour of being translated +for the French stage. More than this, it was afterwards translated back +again, by a dramatist who was ignorant of its original history, for the +stage of the Olympic Theatre; where it figured in the bills under the new +title of Fighting by Proxy, with Liston in the part of the hero. Such is +the history of Douglas Jerrold's first contribution to the English drama. +When it was produced on the boards of Sadler's Wells, its author's age +was eighteen years. + +He had appeared in public, however, as an author, before this time; having +composed some verses which were printed in a forgotten periodical called +Arliss's Magazine. The loss of his first situation, through the bankruptcy +of his master, obliged him to seek employment anew in the printing-office +of one Mr. Bigg, who was also the editor of a newspaper called the _Sunday +Monitor_. In this journal appeared his first article--a critical paper +on _Der Freischütz_. He had gone to the theatre with an order to see the +opera; and had been so struck by the supernatural drama and the wonderful +music to which it was set, that he noted down his impressions of the +performance, and afterwards dropped what he had written, anonymously, into +the editor's box. The next morning, his own article was handed to him to +set up in type for the forthcoming number of the Sunday Monitor. + +After this first encouragement, he began to use his pen frequently in +the minor periodicals of the time; still sticking to the printer's work, +however, and still living at home with his family. The success of his +little farce at Sadler's Wells led to his writing three more pieces for +that theatre. They all succeeded; and the managers of some of the other +minor theatres began to look after the new man. Just at this time, when +his career as dramatist and journalist was beginning to open before him, +his father died. After that loss, the next important event in his life was +his marriage. In the year eighteen hundred and twenty-four, when he was +twenty-one years of age, he married his "first love," Miss Mary Swann, the +daughter of a gentleman who held an appointment in the Post Office. He and +his bride settled, with his mother and sister and a kind old friend of his +boyish days, in Holborn; and here--devoting his days to the newspapers, +and his evenings to the drama--the newly-married man started as author by +profession, and met the world and its cares bravely at the point of the +pen. + +The struggle at starting was a hard one. His principal permanent +source of income was a small weekly salary paid to him as dramatist +to the establishment, by one Davidge, manager of the Coburg (now the +Victoria) Theatre. This man appears to have treated Jerrold, whose dramas +brought both money and reputation to his theatre, with an utter want +of common consideration and common gratitude. He worked his poor author +pitilessly; and it is, on that account, highly satisfactory to know that +he overreached himself in the end, by quarrelling with his dramatist, at +the very time when Jerrold had a theatrical fortune (so far as managers' +interests were concerned) lying in his desk, in the shape of Black-Eyed +Susan. With that renowned play (the most popular of all nautical dramas) +in his hand, Douglas left the Coburg to seek employment at the Surrey +Theatre--then under the management of Mr. Elliston. This last tradesman in +plays--who subsequently showed himself to be a worthy contemporary of the +other tradesman at the Coburg--bid rather higher for Jerrold's services, +and estimated the sole monopoly of the fancy, invention, and humour of +a man who had already proved himself to be a popular, money-bringing +dramatist, at the magnificent rate of five pounds a week. The bargain +was struck; and Jerrold's first play produced at the Surrey Theatre was +Black-Eyed Susan. + +He had achieved many enviable dramatic successes before this time. He +had written domestic dramas--such as Fifteen Years of a Drunkard's Life, +and Ambrose Gwinett--the popularity of which is still well remembered by +play-goers of the old generation. But the reception of Black-Eyed Susan +eclipsed all previous successes of his or of any other dramatist's in +that line. Mr. T. P. Cooke, who, as the French say, "created" the part +of William, not only found half London flocking into the Borough to see +him; but was actually called upon, after acting in the play, as a first +piece, at the Surrey Theatre, to drive off in his sailor's dress, and +act in it again on the same night, as the last piece, at Covent Garden +Theatre. Its first "run" mounted to three hundred nights: it afterwards +drew money into the empty treasury of Drury Lane: it remains, to this day, +a "stock-piece" on which managers and actors know that they can depend; +and, strangest phenomenon of all, it is impossible to see the play now, +without feeling that its great and well-deserved dramatic success has been +obtained with the least possible amount of assistance from the subtleties +and refinements of dramatic art. The piece is indebted for its hold on the +public sympathy solely to the simple force, the irresistible directness, +of its appeal to some of the strongest affections in our nature. It has +succeeded, and it will succeed, not because the dialogue is well, or, as +to some passages of it, even naturally written; not because the story is +neatly told, for it is (especially in the first act) full of faults in +construction; but solely because the situations in which the characters +are placed appeal to the hearts of every husband and every wife in the +theatre. In this aspect of it, and in this only, the play is a study to +any young writer; for it shows on what amazingly simple foundations rest +the main conditions of the longest, the surest, and the widest dramatic +success. + +It is sad, it is almost humiliating, to be obliged to add, in reference +to the early history of Jerrold's first dramatic triumph, that his share +of the gains which Black-Eyed Susan poured into the pockets of managers +on both sides of the water was just seventy pounds. Mr. Elliston, whose +theatre the play had raised from a state of something like bankruptcy to +a condition of prosperity which, in the Surrey annals, has not since been +paralleled, not only abstained from presenting Jerrold with the smallest +fragment of anything in the shape of a token of gratitude, but actually +had the pitiless insolence to say to him, after Black-Eyed Susan had run +its three hundred nights, "My dear boy, why don't you get your friends to +present you with a bit of plate?"[C] + +The extraordinary success of Black-Eyed Susan opened the doors of the +great theatres to Jerrold, as a matter of course. He made admirable +use of the chances in his favour which he had so well deserved, and +for which he had waited so long. At the Adelphi, at Drury Lane, and +at the Haymarket, drama after drama flowed in quick succession from +his pen. The Devil's Ducat, the Bride of Ludgate, the Rent Day, Nell +Gwynne, the Housekeeper--this last, the best of his plays in point of +construction--date, with many other dramatic works, from the period +of his life now under review. The one slight check to his career of +prosperity occurred in eighteen hundred and thirty-six, when he and his +brother-in-law took the Strand Theatre, and when Jerrold acted a character +in one of his own plays. Neither the theatrical speculation nor the +theatrical appearance proved to be successful; and he wisely abandoned, +from that time, all professional connection with the stage, except in his +old and ever-welcome character of dramatist. In the other branches of his +art--to which he devoted himself, at this turning-point of his career, as +faithfully as he devoted himself to the theatrical branch--his progress +was not less remarkable. As journalist and essayist, he rose steadily +towards the distinguished place which was his due among the writers of +his time. This middle term of his literary exertions produced, among other +noticeable results, the series of social studies called Men of Character, +originally begun in Blackwood's Magazine, and since republished among his +collected works. + +He had now advanced, in a social as well as in a literary point of view, +beyond that period in the lives of self-made men which may be termed +the adventurous period. Whatever difficulties and anxieties henceforth +oppressed him were caused by the trials and troubles which, more or less, +beset the exceptional lives of all men of letters. The struggle for a +hearing, the fight for a fair field in which to show himself, had now been +bravely and creditably accomplished; and all that remains to be related +of the life of Douglas Jerrold is best told in the history of his works. + +Taking his peculiar literary gifts into consideration, the first great +opportunity of his life, as a periodical writer, was offered to him, +unquestionably, by the starting of _Punch_. The brilliant impromptu +faculty which gave him a place apart, as thinker, writer, and talker, +among the remarkable men of his time, was exactly the faculty which such +a journal as Punch was calculated to develop to the utmost. The day on +which Jerrold was secured as a contributor would have been a fortunate day +for that periodical, if he had written nothing in it but the far-famed +Caudle Lectures, and the delightful Story of a Feather. But the service +that he rendered to Punch must by no means be associated only with the +more elaborate contributions to its pages which are publicly connected +with his name. His wit often flashed out at its brightest, his sarcasm +often cut with its keenest edge, in those well-timed paragraphs and short +articles which hit the passing event of the day, and which, so far as +their temporary purpose with the public is concerned, are all-important +ingredients in the success of such a periodical as Punch. A contributor +who can strike out new ideas from the original resources of his own +mind, is one man, and a contributor who can be depended on for the small +work-a-day emergencies which are felt one week and forgotten the next, +is generally another. Jerrold united these two characters in himself; and +the value of him to Punch, on that account only, can never be too highly +estimated. + +At this period of his life, the fertility of his mental resources showed +itself most conspicuously. While he was working for Punch, he was also +editing and largely contributing to the Illuminated Magazine. In this +publication appeared, among a host of shorter papers, the series called +The Chronicles of Clovernook, which he himself always considered to be +one of his happiest efforts, and which does indeed contain, in detached +passages, some of the best things that ever fell from his pen. On the +cessation of The Illuminated Magazine, he started The Shilling Magazine, +and contributed to it his well-known novel, Saint Giles and Saint James. +These accumulated literary occupations and responsibilities would have +been enough for most men; but Jerrold's inexhaustible energy and variety +carried him on through more work still. Theatrical audiences now found +their old favourite addressing them again, and occupying new ground as +a writer of five act and three act comedies. Bubbles of the Day, Time +Works Wonders, The Catspaw, Retired from Business, Saint Cupid, were all +produced, with other plays, after the period when he became a regular +writer in Punch. + +Judged from the literary point of view these comedies were all original +and striking contributions to the library of the stage. From the dramatic +point of view, however, it must not be concealed that they were less +satisfactory; and that some of them were scarcely so successful with +audiences as their author's earlier and humbler efforts. The one solid +critical reason which it is possible to assign for this, implies in itself +a compliment which could be paid to no other dramatist of modern times. +The perpetual glitter of Jerrold's wit seems to have blinded him to some +of the more sober requirements of the Dramatic art. When Charles Kemble +said, and said truly, that there was wit enough for three comedies in +Bubbles of the Day, he implied that this brilliant overflow left little +or no room for the indispensable resources of story and situation to +display themselves fairly on the stage. The comedies themselves, examined +with reference to their success in representation, as well as to their +intrinsic merits, help to support this view. Time Works Wonders was the +most prosperous of all, and it is that comedy precisely which has the +most story and the most situation in it. The idea and the management of +the charming love-tale out of which the events of this play spring, show +what Jerrold might have achieved in the construction of other plots, if +his own superabundant wit had not dazzled him and led him astray. As it +is, the readers of these comedies, who can appreciate the rich fancy, +the delicate subtleties of thought, the masterly terseness of expression, +and the exquisite play and sparkle of wit scattered over every page, may +rest assured that they rather gain than lose--especially in the present +condition of theatrical companies--by not seeing the last dramatic works +of Douglas Jerrold represented on the stage. + +The next, and, sad to say, the final achievement of his life, connected +him most honourably and profitably with the newspaper press. Many readers +will remember the starting of Douglas Jerrold's Weekly Newspaper--its +great temporary success--and then its sudden decline, through defects +in management, to which it is not now necessary to refer at length. +The signal ability with which the editorial articles in the paper were +written, the remarkable aptitude which they displayed in striking straight +at the sympathies of large masses of readers, did not escape the notice +of men who were well fitted to judge of the more solid qualifications +which go to the production of a popular journalist. In the spring of +the year eighteen hundred and fifty-two, the proprietor of Lloyd's +Weekly Newspaper proposed the editorship to Jerrold, on terms of such +wise liberality as to ensure the ready acceptance of his offer. From +the spring of eighteen hundred and fifty-two, to the spring of eighteen +hundred and fifty-seven--the last he was ever to see--Jerrold conducted +the paper, with such extraordinary success as is rare in the history of +journalism. Under his supervision, and with the regular assistance of his +pen, Lloyd's Newspaper rose, by thousands and thousands a week, to the +great circulation which it now enjoys. Of the many successful labours of +Jerrold's life, none had been so substantially prosperous as the labour +that was destined to close it. + +His health had shown signs of breaking, and his heart was known to be +affected, for some little time before his last brief illness; but the +unconquerable energy and spirit of the man upheld him through all bodily +trials, until the first day of June, eighteen hundred and fifty-seven. +Even his medical attendant did not abandon all hope when his strength +first gave way. But he sank rapidly--so rapidly, that in one short week +the struggle was over. On the eighth day of June, surrounded by his family +and his friends, preserving all his faculties to the last, passing away +calmly, resignedly, affectionately, Douglas Jerrold closed his eyes on the +world which it had been the long and noble purpose of his life to inform +and to improve. + +It is too early yet to attempt any estimate of the place which his +writings will ultimately occupy in English literature. So long as honesty, +energy, and variety are held to be the prominent qualities which should +distinguish a genuine writer, there can be no doubt of the vitality of +Douglas Jerrold's reputation. The one objection urged against the works, +which, feeble and ignorant though it was, often went to the heart of +the writer, was the objection of bitterness. Calling to mind many of the +passages in his books in which this bitterness most sharply appears, and +seeing plainly in those passages what the cause was that provoked it, we +venture to speak out our own opinion boldly, and to acknowledge at once, +that we admire this so-called bitterness as one of the great and valuable +qualities of Douglas Jerrold's writings; because we can see for ourselves +that it springs from the uncompromising earnestness and honesty of the +author. In an age when it is becoming unfashionable to have a positive +opinion about anything; when the detestable burlesque element scatters +its profanation with impunity on all beautiful and all serious things; +when much, far too much, of the current literature of the day vibrates +contemptibly between unbelieving banter and unblushing clap-trap, that +element of bitterness in Jerrold's writings--which never stands alone in +them; which is never disassociated from the kind word that goes before, +or the generous thought that comes after--is in our opinion an essentially +wholesome element, breathing that admiration of truth, and that hatred of +falsehood, which is the chiefest and brightest jewel in the crown of any +writer, living or dead. + +This same cry of bitterness, which assailed him in his literary character, +assailed him in his social character also. Absurd as the bare idea of +bitterness must appear in connection with such a nature as his, to those +who really knew him, the reason why strangers so often and so ridiculously +misunderstood him, is not difficult to discover. That marvellous +brightness and quickness of perception which has distinguished him far and +wide as the sayer of some of the wittiest, and often some of the wisest +things also, in the English language, expressed itself almost with the +suddenness of lightning. This absence of all appearance of artifice or +preparation, this flash and readiness which made the great charm of his +wit, rendered him, at the same time, quite incapable of suppressing a good +thing from prudential considerations. It sparkled off his tongue before +he was aware of it. It was always a bright surprise to himself; and it +never occurred to him that it could be anything but a bright surprise to +others. All his so-called bitter things, were said with a burst of hearty +schoolboy laughter, which showed how far he was himself from attaching +a serious importance to them. Strangers apparently failed to draw this +inference, plain as it was; and often mistook him accordingly. If they +had seen him in the society of children; if they had surprised him in +the house of any one of his literary brethren who was in difficulty and +distress; if they had met him by the bedside of a sick friend, how simply +and how irresistibly the gentle, generous, affectionate nature of the man +would then have disclosed itself to the most careless chance acquaintance +who ever misunderstood him! Very few men have won the loving regard of so +many friends so rapidly, and have kept that regard so enduringly to the +last day of their lives, as Douglas Jerrold. + + + + +SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.--V. + +PRAY EMPLOY MAJOR NAMBY! + +[A Privileged Communication From A Lady in Distress.] + + +I have such an extremely difficult subject to write about, that I really +don't know how to begin. The fact is, I am a single lady--single, you +will please to understand, entirely because I have refused many excellent +offers. Pray don't imagine from this that I am old. Some women's offers +come at long intervals, and other women's offers come close together. Mine +came remarkably close together--so, of course, I cannot possibly be old. +Not that I presume to describe myself as absolutely young, either; so much +depends on people's points of view. I have heard female children of the +ages of eighteen or nineteen called young ladies. This seems to me to be +ridiculous--and I have held that opinion, without once wavering from it, +for more than ten years past. It is, after all, a question of feeling; +and, shall I confess it? I feel so young! + +Dear, dear me! this is dreadfully egotistical; and, besides, it is not in +the least what I want. May I be kindly permitted to begin again? + +Is there any chance of our going to war with somebody, before long? This +is such a dreadful question for a lady to put, that I feel called upon +to apologise and explain myself. I don't rejoice in bloodshed--I don't, +indeed. The smell of gunpowder is horrible to me; and the going off of the +smallest imaginable gun invariably makes me scream. But if on some future +occasion we--of course, I mean the government--find it quite impossible +to avoid plunging into the horrors of war--then, what I want to know is, +whether my next door neighbour, Major Namby, will be taken from his home +by the Horse Guards, and presented with his fit post of command in the +English army? It will come out sooner or later; so there is no harm in my +acknowledging at once, that it would add immeasurably to my comfort and +happiness if the major were ordered off on any service which would take +him away from his own house. + +I am really very sorry, but I must leave off beginning already, and go +back again to the part before the beginning (if there is such a thing) in +order to explain the nature of my objection to Major Namby, and why it +would be such a great relief to me (supposing we are unfortunate enough +to plunge into the horrors of war), if he happened to be one of the first +officers called out for the service of his Queen and country. + + * * * * * + +I live in the suburbs, and I have bought my house. The major lives in the +suburbs, next door to me, and _he_ has bought his house. I don't object +to this, of course. I merely mention it to make things straight. + +Major Namby has been twice married. His first wife--dear, dear! how can +I express it? Shall I say, with vulgar abruptness, that his first wife +had a family? And must I descend into particulars, and add that they +are four in number, and that two of them are twins? Well, the words are +written; and if they will do over again for the same purpose, I beg to +repeat them in reference to the second Mrs. Namby (still alive), who +has also had a family, and is----no, I really cannot say, is likely to +go on having one. There are certain limits, in a case of this kind, and +I think I have reached them. Permit me simply to state that the second +Mrs. Namby has three children, at present. These, with the first Mrs. +Namby's four, make a total of seven. The seven are composed of five girls +and two boys. And the first Mrs. Namby's family all have one particular +kind of constitution, and the second Mrs. Namby's family all have another +particular kind of constitution. Let me explain once more that I merely +mention these little matters, and that I don't object to them. + +Now pray be patient: I am coming fast to the point--I am indeed. But +please let me say a little word or two about Major Namby himself. + +In the first place, I have looked out his name in the Army List, and I +cannot find that he was ever engaged in battle anywhere. He appears to +have entered the army, most unfortunately for his own renown, just after, +instead of just before, the battle of Waterloo. He has been at all sorts +of foreign stations, at the very time, in each case, when there was no +military work to do--except once at some West Indian Island, where he +seems to have assisted in putting down a few poor unfortunate negroes +who tried to get up a riot. This is the only active service that he has +ever performed: so I suppose it is all owing to his being well off and to +those dreadful abuses of ours that he has been made a major for not having +done a major's work. So far as looks go, however, he is military enough +in appearance to take the command of the British army at five minutes' +notice. He is very tall and upright, and carries a martial cane, and wears +short martial whiskers, and has an awfully loud martial voice. His face +is very pink, and his eyes are extremely round and staring, and he has +that singularly disagreeable-looking roll of fat red flesh at the back +of his neck, between the bottom of his short grey hair and the top of his +stiff black stock, which seems to be peculiar to all hearty old officers +who are remarkably well to do in the world. He is certainly not more than +sixty years of age; and, if a lady may presume to judge of such a thing, +I should say decidedly that he had an immense amount of undeveloped energy +still left in him, at the service of the Horse Guards. + +This undeveloped energy--and here, at length, I come to the point--not +having any employment in the right direction, has run wild in the wrong +direction, and has driven the major to devote the whole of his otherwise +idle time to his domestic affairs. He manages his children instead of +his regiment, and establishes discipline in the servants'-hall instead of +in the barrack-yard. Have I any right to object to this? None whatever, +I readily admit. I may hear (most unwillingly) that Major Namby has +upset the house by going into the kitchen and objecting to the smartness +of the servants' caps; but as I am not, thank Heaven, one of those +unfortunate servants, I am not called on to express my opinion of such +unmanly meddling, much as I scorn it. I may be informed (entirely against +my own will) that Mrs. Namby's husband has dared to regulate, not only +the size and substance, but even the number, of certain lower and inner +articles of Mrs. Namby's dress, which no earthly consideration will +induce me particularly to describe; but as I do not (I thank Heaven again) +occupy the degraded position of the major's wife, I am not justified in +expressing my indignation at domestic prying and pettifogging, though I +feel it all over me, at this very moment, from head to foot. What Major +Namby does and says, inside his own house, is his business and not mine. +But what he does and says, outside his own house, on the gravel walk of +his front garden--under my own eyes and close to my own ears, as I sit at +work at the window--is as much my affair as the major's, and more, for it +is I who suffer by it. + +Pardon me a momentary pause for relief, a momentary thrill of +self-congratulation. I have got to my destination at last--I have taken +the right literary turning at the end of the preceding paragraph; and the +fair high-road of plain narrative now spreads engagingly before me. + +My complaint against Major Namby is, in plain terms, that he transacts +the whole of his domestic business in his front garden. Whether it arises +from natural weakness of memory, from total want of a sense of propriety, +or from a condition of mind which is closely allied to madness of the +eccentric sort, I cannot say--but the major certainly does sometimes +partially, and sometimes entirely, forget his private family matters, +and the necessary directions connected with them, while he is inside +the house; and does habitually remember them, and repair all omissions, +by bawling through his windows, at the top of his voice, as soon as he +gets outside the house. It never seems to occur to him that he might +advantageously return in-doors, and there mention what he has forgotten +in a private and proper way. The instant the lost idea strikes him--which +it invariably does, either in his front garden, or in the roadway outside +his house--he roars for his wife, either from the gravel walk, or over +the low wall; and (if I may use so strong an expression) empties his mind +to her in public, without appearing to care whose ears he wearies, whose +delicacy he shocks, or whose ridicule he invites. If the man is not mad, +his own small family fusses have taken such complete possession of all +his senses, that he is quite incapable of noticing anything else, and +perfectly impenetrable to the opinions of his neighbours. Let me show +that the grievance of which I complain is no slight one, by giving a few +examples of the general persecution that I suffer, and the occasional +shocks that are administered to my delicacy, at the coarse hands of Major +Namby. + +We will say it is a fine warm morning. I am sitting in my front room, with +the window open, absorbed over a deeply interesting book. I hear the door +of the next house bang; I look up, and see the major descending the steps +into his front garden. + +He walks--no, he marches--half way down the front garden path, with +his head high in the air, and his chest stuck out, and his military +cane fiercely flourished in his right hand. Suddenly, he stops, stamps +with one foot, knocks up the hinder part of the brim of his extremely +curly hat with his left hand, and begins to scratch at that singularly +disagreeable-looking roll of fat red flesh in the back of his neck (which +scratching, I may observe, in parenthesis, is always a sure sign, in the +case of this horrid man, that a lost domestic idea has suddenly come back +to him). He waits a moment in the ridiculous position just described, then +wheels round on his heel, looks up at the first-floor window, and instead +of going back into the house to mention what he has forgotten, bawls out +fiercely from the middle of the walk: + +"Matilda!" + +I hear his wife's voice--a shockingly shrill one; but what can you expect +of a woman who has been seen over and over again, in a slatternly striped +wrapper, as late as two o'clock in the afternoon--I hear his wife's voice +answer from inside the house: + +"Yes, dear." + +"I said it was a south wind." + +"Yes, dear." + +"It isn't a south wind." + +"Lor', dear!" + +"It's south-east. I won't have Georgina taken out to-day." (Georgina is +one of the first Mrs. Namby's family, and they are all weak in the chest.) +"Where's nurse?" + +"Here, sir!" + +"Nurse, I won't have Jack allowed to run. Whenever that boy perspires, +he catches cold. Hang up his hoop. If he cries, take him into my +dressing-room, and show him the birch rod. Matilda!" + +"Yes, dear." + +"What the devil do they mean by daubing all that grease over Mary's hair? +It's beastly to see it--do you hear?--beastly! Where's Pamby?" (Pamby is +the unfortunate work-woman who makes and mends the family linen.) + +"Here, sir." + +"Pamby, what are you about now?" + +No answer. Pamby, or somebody else, giggles faintly. The major flourishes +his cane in a fury. + +"Why the devil don't you answer me? I give you three seconds to answer +me, or leave the house. One--two--three. Pamby! what are you about now?" + +"If you please, sir, I'm doing something----" + +"What?" + +"Something particular for baby, sir." + +"Drop it directly, whatever it is. Matilda! how many pair of trousers has +Katie got?" + +"Only three, dear." + +"Pamby!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Shorten all Miss Katie's trousers directly, including the pair she's got +on. I've said, over and over again, that I won't have those frills of hers +any lower down than her knees. Don't let me see them at the middle of her +shins again. Nurse!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Mind the crossings. Don't let the children sit down if they're hot. Don't +let them speak to other children. Don't let them get playing with strange +dogs. Don't let them mess their things. And, above all, don't bring Master +Jack back in a perspiration. Is there anything more, before I go out?" + +"No, sir." + +"Matilda! Is there anything more?" + +"No, dear." + +"Pamby! Is there anything more?" + +"No, sir." + +Here the domestic colloquy ends, for the time being. Will any sensitive +person--especially a person of my own sex--please to imagine what I must +suffer, as a delicate single lady, at having all these family details +obtruded on my attention, whether I like it or not, in the major's +rasping martial voice, and in the shrill answering screams of the women +inside? It is bad enough to be submitted to this sort of persecution +when one is alone; but it is far worse to be also exposed to it--as I am +constantly--in the presence of visitors, whose conversation is necessarily +interrupted, whose ears are necessarily shocked, whose very stay in my +house is necessarily shortened, by Major Namby's unendurably public way +of managing his private concerns. + +Only the other day, my old, dear, and most valued friend Lady Malkinshaw +was sitting with me, and was entering at great length into the interesting +story of her second daughter's unhappy marriage engagement, and of +the dignified manner in which the family ultimately broke it off. For +a quarter of an hour or so our interview continued to be delightfully +uninterrupted. At the end of that time, however, just as Lady Malkinshaw, +with the tears in her eyes, was beginning to describe the effect of +her daughter's dreadful disappointment on the poor dear girl's mind and +looks, I heard the door of the major's house bang as usual; and, looking +out of the window in despair, saw the major himself strut half way down +the walk, stop, scratch violently at his roll of red flesh, wheel round +so as to face the house, consider a little, pull his tablets out of his +waistcoat-pocket, shake his head over them, and then look up at the front +windows, preparatory to bawling as usual at the degraded female members +of his household. Lady Malkinshaw, quite ignorant of what was coming, +happened at the same moment, to be proceeding with her pathetic story in +these terms: + +"I do assure you, my poor dear girl behaved throughout with the heroism of +a martyr. When I had told her of the vile wretch's behaviour, breaking it +to her as gently as I possibly could; and when she had a little recovered, +I said to her----" + +("Matilda!") + +The major's rasping voice sounded louder than ever as he bawled out that +dreadful name, just at the wrong moment. Lady Malkinshaw started as if +she had been shot. I put down the window in despair; but the glass was +no protection to our ears--Major Namby can roar through a brick wall. I +apologised--I declared solemnly that my next-door neighbour was mad--I +entreated Lady Malkinshaw to take no notice, and to go on. That sweet +woman immediately complied. I burn with indignation when I think of what +followed. Every word from the Namby's garden (which I distinguish below by +parentheses) came, very slightly muffled by the window, straight into my +room, and mixed itself up with her ladyship's story in this inexpressibly +ridiculous and impertinent manner: + +"Well," my kind and valued friend proceeded, "as I was telling you, when +the first natural burst of sorrow was over, I said to her----" + +"Yes, dear Lady Malkinshaw?" I murmured, encouragingly. + +"I said to her----" + +("By jingo, I've forgotten something! Matilda! when I made my memorandum +of errands, how many had I to do?") + +"'My dearest, darling child,' I said----" + +("Pamby! how many errands did your mistress give me to do?") + +"I said, 'my dearest, darling child----'" + +("Nurse! how many errands did your mistress give me to do?") + +"'My own love,' I said----" + +("Pooh! pooh! I tell you, I had four errands to do, and I've only got +three of 'em written down. Check me off, all of you--I'm going to read my +errands.") + +"'Your own proper pride, love,' I said, 'will suggest to you----'" + +("Grey powder for baby.") + +--"'the necessity of making up your mind, my angel, to----'" + +("Row the plumber for infamous condition of back kitchen sink.") + +--"'to return all the wretch's letters, and----'" + +("Speak to the haberdasher about patching Jack's shirts.") + +--"'all his letters and presents, darling. You need only make them up into +a parcel, and write inside----'" + +("Matilda! is that all?") + +--"'and write inside----'" + +("Pamby! is that all?") + +--"'and write inside----'" + +("Nurse! is that all?") + +"'I have my mother's sanction for making one last request to you. It is +this----'" + +("What have the children got for dinner to-day?") + +--"'it is this: Return me my letters, as I have returned yours. You will +find inside----'" + +("A shoulder of mutton and onion sauce? And a devilish good dinner, too.") + +The coarse wretch roared out those last shocking words cheerfully, at the +top of his voice. Hitherto, Lady Malkinshaw had preserved her temper with +the patience of an angel; but she began--and who can wonder?--to lose it, +at last. + +"It is really impossible, my dear," she said, rising from her chair, "to +continue any conversation while that very intolerable person persists in +talking to his family from his front garden. No! I really cannot go on--I +cannot, indeed." + +Just as I was apologising to my sweet friend for the second time, I +observed, to my great relief (having my eye still on the window) that +the odious major had apparently come to the end of his domestic business +for that morning, and had made up his mind at last to relieve us of his +presence. I distinctly saw him put his tablets back in his pocket, wheel +round again on his heel, and march straight to the garden gate. I waited +until he had his hand on the lock to open it, and then, when I felt that +we were quite safe, I informed dear Lady Malkinshaw that my detestable +neighbour had at last taken himself off, and, throwing open the window +again to get a little air, begged and entreated her to oblige me by +resuming her charming narrative. + +"Where was I?" inquired my distinguished friend. + +"You were telling me what you recommended your poor darling to write +inside her enclosure," I answered. + +"Ah, yes--so I was. Well, my dear, she controlled herself by an admirable +effort, and wrote exactly what I told her. You will excuse a mother's +partiality, I am sure--but I think I never saw her look so lovely--so +mournfully lovely, I should say--as when she was writing those last lines +to the man who had so basely trifled with her. The tears came into my eyes +as I looked at her sweet pale cheeks; and I thought to myself----" + +("Nurse! which of the children was sick, last time, after eating onion +sauce?") + +He had come back again!--the monster had come back again, from the very +threshold of the garden gate, to shout that unwarrantably atrocious +question in at his nursery window! + +Lady Malkinshaw bounced off her chair at the first note of his horrible +voice, and changed towards me instantly--as if it had been _my_ fault!--in +the most alarming and unexpected manner. Her ladyship's face became +awfully red; her ladyship's head trembled excessively; her ladyship's eyes +looked straight into mine with an indescribable fierceness. + +"Why am I thus insulted?" inquired Lady Malkinshaw, with a slow and +dignified sternness which froze the blood in my veins. "What do you mean +by it?" continued her ladyship, with a sudden rapidity of utterance that +quite took my breath away. + +Before I could remonstrate with my friend for visiting her natural +irritation on poor innocent me: before I could declare that I had seen +the major actually open his garden gate to go away, the provoking brute's +voice burst in on us again. + +"Ha! yes!" we heard him growl to himself, in a kind of shameless domestic +soliloquy. "Yes, yes, yes--Sophy was sick, to be sure. Curious. All Mrs. +Namby's step-children have weak chests and strong stomachs. All Mrs. +Namby's own children have weak stomachs and strong chests. _I_ have a +strong stomach _and_ a strong chest.--Pamby!" + +"I consider this," continued Lady Malkinshaw, literally glaring at me, +in the fulness of her indiscriminate exasperation--"I consider this to be +unwarrantable and unladylike. I beg to know----" + +"Where's Bill?" burst in the major, from below, before her ladyship could +add another word. "Matilda! Nurse! Pamby! where's Bill? I didn't bid Bill +good-bye--hold him up at the window, one of you!" + +"My dear Lady Malkinshaw," I remonstrated, "why blame _me_? What have I +done?" + +"Done!" repeated her ladyship. "Done!!!--all that is most unfriendly, most +unwarrantable, most unladylike----" + +"Ha! ha! ha-a-a-a!" roared the major, shouting her ladyship down, and +stamping about the garden in fits of fond paternal laughter. "Bill, my +boy, how are you? There's a young Turk for you! Pull up his frock--I want +to see his jolly legs----" + +Lady Malkinshaw screamed, and rushed to the door. I sank into a chair, +and clasped my hands in despair. + +"Ha! ha! ha-a-a-a! What calves the dog's got! Pamby! look at his calves. +Aha! bless his heart, his legs are the model of his father's! The Namby +build, Matilda: the Namby build, every inch of him. Kick again, Bill--kick +out, like mad. I say, ma'am! I beg your pardon, ma'am----" + +_Ma'am?_ I ran to the window. Was the major actually daring to address +Lady Malkinshaw, as she passed, indignantly, on her way out, down my front +garden? He was! The odious monster was pointing out his--his, what shall +I say?--his _undraped_ offspring to the notice of my outraged visitor. + +"Look at him, ma'am. If you're a judge of children, look at him. There's +a two-year-older for you! Ha! ha! ha-a-a-a! Show the lady your legs, +Bill--kick out for the lady, you dog, kick out!" + + * * * * * + +I can write no more: I have done great violence to myself in writing +so much. Further specimens of the daily outrages inflicted on me by my +next-door neighbour (though I could add them by dozens) could do but +little more to illustrate the intolerable nature of the grievance of +which I complain. Although Lady Malkinshaw's naturally fine sense of +justice suffered me to call and remonstrate the day after she left my +house; although we are now faster friends than ever, how can I expect +her ladyship to visit me again, after the reiterated insults to which +she was exposed on the last occasion of her esteemed presence under my +roof? How can I ask my niece--a young person who has been most carefully +brought up--to come and stay with me, when I know that she will be taken +into the major's closest domestic confidence on the first morning of +her arrival, whether she likes it or not? Of all the dreary prospects, +stretching before all the single ladies in the world, mine seems the most +hopeless. My neighbours can't help me, and I can't help myself. The law +of the land contains no provision against the habitual management of a +wife and family in a front garden. Private remonstrance addressed to a +man so densely impenetrable to a sense of propriety as the major, would +only expose me to ridicule, and perhaps to insult. I can't leave my house, +for it exactly suits me, and I have bought it. The major can't leave his +house, for it exactly suits him, and he has bought it. There is actually +no remedy possible but the forcible removal of my military neighbour from +his home; and there is but one power in the country which is strong enough +to accomplish that removal--the Horse Guards, infuriated by the horrors +of war. + + + + +CASES WORTH LOOKING AT.--II. + +THE POISONED MEAL. + +[From The Records of the French Courts.] + + +CHAPTER I. THE POCKETS. + +This case takes us across the Channel to Normandy; and introduces us to +a young French girl, named Marie-Françoise-Victoire Salmon. + +Her father was a poor Norman labourer. Her mother died while she was a +child. From an early age Marie had learnt to get her own living by going +out to service. Three different mistresses tried her while she was a very +young girl, and found every reason to be satisfied with her conduct. She +entered her fourth place, in the family of one Monsieur Dumesnil, when +she was twenty years of age. This was the turning-point in her career; +and here the strange story of her life properly begins. + +Among the persons who often visited Monsieur Dumesnil and his wife, was +a certain Monsieur Revel, a relation of Madame Dumesnil's. He was a man +of some note in his part of the country, holding a responsible legal +appointment at the town of Caen in Normandy; and he honoured Marie, when +he first saw her at her master's house, with his special attention and +approval. She had an innocent face, and a winning manner; and Monsieur +Revel became almost oppressively anxious, in a strictly paternal way, that +she should better her condition, by seeking service at Caen, where places +were plentiful and wages higher than in the country; and where, it is also +necessary to remember, Monsieur Revel himself happened to live. + +Marie's own idea, however, of the best means of improving her condition +was a little at variance with the idea of her disinterested adviser. Her +ambition was to gain her living independently, if she could, by being a +sempstress. She left the service of Monsieur Dumesnil of her own accord, +without so much as the shadow of a stain on her character, and went to the +old town of Bayeux to try what she could do by taking in needlework. As +a means of subsistence, needlework soon proved itself to be insufficient; +and she found herself thrown back again on the old resource of going out +to service. Most unfortunately, as events afterwards turned out, she now +called to mind Monsieur Revel's paternal advice, and resolved to seek +employment as a maid-of-all-work at Caen. + +She left Bayeux with the little bundle of clothes which represented all +the property she had in the world, on the first of August, seventeen +hundred and eighty-one. It will be well to notice this date particularly, +and to remember--in case some of the events of Marie's story should seem +almost incredible--that it marks the period which immediately preceded +the first outbreak of the French Revolution. + +Among the few articles of the maid's apparel which the bundle contained, +and to which it is necessary to direct attention at the outset, were _two +pairs of pockets_, one of them being still in an unfinished condition. +She had a third pair which she wore on her journey. In the last century, +a country girl's pockets were an important and prominent part of her +costume. They hung on each side of her, ready to her hand. They were +sometimes very prettily embroidered, and they were almost always large +and of a bright colour. + +On the first of August, seventeen hundred and eighty-one, Marie left +Bayeux, and early on the same day she reached Caen. Her good manners, +her excellent character, and the modesty of her demands in the matter of +wages, rendered it easy for her to find a situation. On the very evening +of her arrival she was suited with a place; and her first night at Caen +was passed under the roof of her new employers. + +The family consisted of Marie's master and mistress, Monsieur and +Madame Huet Duparc (both highly respectable people); of two sons, aged +respectively twenty-one and eleven years; of their sister, aged seventeen +years; and of Monsieur and Madame de Beaulieu, the father and mother of +Madame Duparc, one eighty-eight years old, the other eighty-six. + +Madame Duparc explained to Marie the various duties which she was expected +to perform, on the evening when she entered the house. She was to begin +the day by fetching some milk--that being one of the ingredients used +in preparing the hasty-pudding which formed the favourite morning meal +of the old gentleman, Monsieur de Beaulieu. The hasty-pudding was always +to be got ready by seven o'clock exactly. When this had been done, Marie +was next required to take the infirm old lady, Madame de Beaulieu, every +morning to mass. She was then to go to market, and get all the provisions +that were wanted for the daily use of the family; and she was, finally, to +look to the cooking of the food, and to make herself additionally useful +(with some occasional assistance from Madame Duparc and her daughter) +in every remaining branch of household work. The yearly wages she was to +receive for performing all these conflicting duties, amounted to precisely +two pounds sterling of English money. + +She had entered her new place on a Wednesday. On Thursday she took her +first lesson in preparing the old gentleman's morning meal. One point +which her mistress then particularly impressed on her was, that she was +_not_ to put any salt in the hasty-pudding. + +On the Saturday following, when she went out to buy milk, she made a +little purchase on her own account. Of course the purchase was an article +of dress--a piece of fine bright orange-coloured stuff, for which she paid +nearly the whole price on the spot, out of her small savings. The sum +of two sous six deniers (about a penny English) was all that Marie took +credit for. On her return to the house she showed the piece of stuff to +Madame Duparc, and asked to be advised whether she should make an apron +or a jacket of it. + +The next day being Sunday, Marie marked the occasion by putting on all the +little finery she had. Her pair of festive pockets, striped with blue and +white, came out of her bundle along with other things. When she had put +them on, she hung the old work-a-day pockets which she had worn on leaving +Bayeux, to the back of a chair in her bed-chamber. This was a little room +on the ground-floor, situated close to the dining-room, and perfectly easy +of access to every one in the house. Long afterwards, Marie remembered +how pleasantly and quietly that Sunday passed. It was the last day of +happiness the poor creature was to enjoy in the house of Madame Duparc. + +On the Monday morning, she went to fetch the milk as usual. But the +milkwoman was not in the shop to serve her. After returning to the house, +she proposed making a second attempt; but her mistress stopped her, +saying that the milk would doubtless be sent before long. This turned +out to be the case, and Marie, having cleaned the saucepan for Monsieur +de Beaulieu's hasty-pudding, received from the hands of Madame Duparc, +the earthen vessel containing the meal used in the house. She mixed this +flour and put it into the saucepan in the presence of Madame Duparc and +her daughter. She had just set the saucepan on the fire, when her mistress +said, with a very remarkable abruptness: + +"Have you put any salt in it?" + +"Certainly not, ma'am," answered Marie, amazed by the question. "You told +me yourself that I was never to put salt in it." + +Upon this, Madame Duparc snatched up the saucepan without saying another +word, turned to the dresser, stretched out her hand towards one of +four salt-cellars which always stood there, and sprinkled salt into +the saucepan--or (to speak with extreme correctness, the matter being +important), if not salt something which she took for salt. + +The hasty-pudding made, Marie poured it from the saucepan into a +soup-plate which her mistress held. Madame Duparc herself then took +it to Monsieur de Beaulieu. She and her daughter, and one of her sons +remained with the old man, while he was eating his breakfast. Marie, left +in the kitchen, prepared to clean the saucepan; but, before she could do +so, she was suddenly called in two different directions, by Madame de +Beaulieu, and Madame Duparc. The old lady wished to be taken to mass; +and her mistress wanted to send her on a number of errands. Marie did +not stop even to pour some clean water, as usual, into the saucepan. She +went at once to get her instructions from Madame Duparc, and to attend +on Madame de Beaulieu. Taking the old lady to church, and then running on +her mistress's errands, kept her so long away from the house, that it was +half-past eleven in the forenoon, before she got back to the kitchen. + +The first news that met her on her return was that Monsieur de Beaulieu +had been suffering, ever since nine o'clock, from a violent attack of +vomiting and colic. Madame Duparc ordered her to help the old man to +bed immediately; and inquired, when these directions had been followed, +whether Marie felt capable of looking after him herself, or whether +she would prefer that a nurse should be sent for. Being a kind-hearted, +willing girl, always anxious to make herself useful, Marie replied that +she would gladly undertake the nursing of the old man; and, thereupon, +her bed was moved at once into Monsieur de Beaulieu's room. + +Meanwhile, Madame Duparc fetched from a neighbouring apothecary's, one of +the apprentices of the shop, to see her father. The lad was quite unfit +to meet the emergency of the case, which was certainly serious enough +to require the attention of his master, if not of a regularly qualified +physician. Instead of applying any internal remedies, the apprentice +stupidly tried blistering. This course of treatment proved utterly +useless; but no better advice was called in. After he had suffered for +hours without relief, Monsieur de Beaulieu began to sink rapidly towards +the afternoon. At half-past five o'clock he had ceased to exist. + +This shocking catastrophe, startling and suspicious as it was, did not +appear to discompose the nerves of Madame Duparc. While her eldest son +immediately left the house to inform his father (who had been absent in +the country all day) of what had happened, she lost no time in sending +for the nearest nurse to lay out the corpse of Monsieur de Beaulieu. On +entering the chamber of death, the nurse found Marie there alone, praying +by the old man's bedside. + +"He died suddenly, did he not?" said the nurse. + +"Very suddenly," answered Marie. "He was walking about only yesterday, in +perfect health." + +Soon afterwards the time came when it was customary to prepare supper. +Marie went into the kitchen, mechanically, to get the meal ready. Madame +Duparc, her daughter, and her youngest son, sat down to it as usual. +Madame de Beaulieu, overwhelmed by the dreadful death of her husband, was +incapable of joining them. + +When supper was over, Marie assisted the old lady to bed. Then, worn +out though she was with fatigue, she went back to the nurse to keep her +company in watching by the dead body. Monsieur de Beaulieu had been kind +to Marie, and had spoken gratefully of the little attentions she had +shown him. She remembered this tenderly now that he was no more; and +she could not find it in her heart to leave a hired mourner to be the +only watcher by his death-bed. All that night she remained in the room, +entirely ignorant of what was passing the while in every other part of +the house--her own little bed-room included, as a matter of course. + +About seven o'clock the next morning, after sitting up all night, she went +back again wearily to the kitchen to begin her day's work. Her mistress +joined her there, and saluted her instantly with a scolding. + +"You are the most careless, slovenly girl I ever met with," said Madame +Duparc. "Look at your dress; How can you expect to be decent on a Sunday, +if you wear your best pair of pockets on week-days?" + +Surely Madame Duparc's grief for the loss of her father must have been +slight enough, if it did not prevent her from paying the strictest +attention to her servant's pockets! Although Marie had only known the +old man for a few days, she had been too deeply impressed by his illness +and its fatal end, to be able to think of such a trifle as the condition +of her dress. And now, of all the people in the world, it was Monsieur +de Beaulieu's daughter who reminded her that she had never thought of +changing her pockets, only the day after the old man's dreadful death. + +"Put on your old pockets, directly, you untidy girl!" said Madame Duparc. + +The old pockets were of course hanging where Marie had left them, at the +back of the chair in her own room--the room which was open to any one who +chose to go into it--the room which she herself had not entered during the +past night. She left the kitchen to obey her mistress; and taking the old +pair of pockets off the chair, tied them on as quickly as possible. From +that fatal moment the friendless maid-of-all-work was a ruined girl. + + +CHAPTER II. THE ARSENIC. + +On returning to the kitchen to go on with her work, the exhaustion against +which Marie had hitherto fought successfully, overpowered her the moment +she sat down; her heavy head drooped, her eyes closed in spite of her, and +she fell into a broken, uneasy slumber. Madame Duparc and her daughter, +seeing the condition she was in, undertook the preparation of the day's +dinner themselves. Among the dishes which they got ready, and which +they salted from the cellars on the dresser, were two different kinds of +soup--one kind for themselves, made from fresh "stock"--the other, for +Marie and the nurse, made from old "stock." They were engaged over their +cookery, when Monsieur Duparc arrived from the country; and Marie was +awakened to take the horse he had ridden to the stables, to unsaddle the +animal, and to give him his feed of corn. + +While she was thus engaged, Madame Duparc and her daughter remained alone +in the kitchen. When she left the stable it was time for her to lay the +cloth. She was told to put plates for seven persons. Only six, however, +sat down to dinner. Those six were, Madame de Beaulieu, Monsieur and +Madame Duparc, the youngest of their two sons, Madame Beauguillot (sister +of Madame Duparc), and Monsieur Beauguillot (her son). Mademoiselle Duparc +remained in the kitchen to help Marie in serving up the dinner, and only +took her place at table after the soup had been put on. Her elder brother, +after summoning his father home, had not returned to the house. + +After the soup had been taken away, and while Marie was waiting at table +during the eating of the second course, young Duparc complained that he +felt something gritty between his teeth. His mother made precisely the +same remark. Nobody else, however, agreed with them, and the subject +was allowed to drop. When the second course was done with, the dessert +followed, consisting of a plate of cherries. With the dessert there +arrived a visitor, Monsieur Fergant, a relation of Madame Duparc's. This +gentleman placed himself at table with the rest of the company. + +Meanwhile, the nurse and Marie were making their dinner in the kitchen +off the soup which had been specially provided for them--Marie having +previously placed the dirty plates and the empty soup-tureen from the +dining-room, in the scullery, as usual, to be washed at the proper time. +While she and her companion were still engaged over their soup, young +Duparc and his mother suddenly burst into the kitchen, followed by the +other persons who had partaken of dinner. + +"We are all poisoned!" cried Madame Duparc, in the greatest terror. "Good +heavens! I smell burnt arsenic in the kitchen!" + +Monsieur Fergant, the visitor, hearing these last words, politely stepped +forward to echo them. + +"Burnt arsenic, beyond a doubt," said Monsieur Fergant. When this +gentleman was subsequently questioned on the subject, it may not be amiss +to mention, that he was quite unable to say what burnt arsenic smelt +like. Neither is it altogether out of place to inquire how Madame Duparc +happened to be so amazingly apt at discovering the smell of burnt arsenic? +The answer to the question does not seem easy to discover. + +Having settled that they were all poisoned, and having even found out +(thanks to those two intelligent amateur chemists, Madame Duparc and +Monsieur Fergant) the very nature of the deadly drug that had been used +to destroy them, the next thing the company naturally thought of was the +necessity of summoning medical help. Young Monsieur Beauguillot obligingly +ran off (it was apparently a very mild case of poisoning, so far as he +was concerned) to the apothecary's shop, and fetched, not the apprentice +this time, but the master. The master, Monsieur Thierry, arrived in great +haste, and found the dinner-eaters all complaining of nausea and pains in +the stomach. He naturally asked what they had eaten. The reply was, that +they had eaten nothing but soup. + +This was, to say the least of it, rather an unaccountable answer. The +company had had for dinner, besides soup, a second course of boiled meat +and ragout of beef, and a dessert of cherries. Why was this plain fact +concealed? Why was the apothecary's attention to be fixed exclusively on +the soup? Was it because the tureen was empty, and because the alleged +smell of burnt arsenic might be accounted for on the theory that the +remains of the soup brought from the dining-room had been thrown on the +kitchen fire? But no remains of soup came down--it had been all consumed +by the guests. And what is still more remarkable, the only person in the +kitchen (excepting Marie and the nurse) who could not discover the smell +of burnt arsenic, was the person of all others who was professionally +qualified to find it out first--the apothecary himself. + +After examining the tureen and the plates, and stirring up the wood ashes +on the fire, and making no sort of discovery, Monsieur Thierry turned +to Marie, and asked if she could account for what had happened. She +simply replied, that she knew nothing at all about it; and, thereupon, +her mistress and the rest of the persons present all overwhelmed her +together with a perfect torrent of questions. The poor girl, terrified +by the hubbub, worn out by a sleepless night and by the hard work and +agitation of the day preceding it, burst into an hysterical fit of tears, +and was ordered out of the kitchen to lie down and recover herself. The +only person who showed her the least pity and offered her the slightest +attention, was a servant-girl like herself, who lived next door, and who +stole up to the room in which she was weeping alone, with a cup of warm +milk and water to comfort her. + +Meanwhile, the report had spread in the town that the old man, Monsieur +de Beaulieu, and the whole Duparc family, had been poisoned by their +servant. Madame Duparc did her best to give the rumour the widest possible +circulation. Entirely forgetting, as it would seem, that she was on her +own showing a poisoned woman, she roamed excitably all over the house +with an audience of agitated female friends at her heels; telling the +burnt-arsenic story over and over again to every fresh detachment of +visitors that arrived to hear it; and finally leading the whole troop of +women into the room where Marie was trying to recover herself. The poor +girl was surrounded in a moment; angry faces and shrill voices met her on +every side; the most insolent questions, the most extravagant accusations, +assailed her; and not one word that she could say in her own defence was +listened to for an instant. She had sprung up in the bed, on her knees, +and was frantically entreating for permission to speak in her own defence, +when a new personage appeared on the scene, and stilled the clamour by his +presence. This individual was a surgeon named Hébert, a friend of Madame +Duparc's, who announced that he had arrived to give the family the benefit +of his assistance, and who proposed to commence operations, by searching +the servant's pockets without farther delay. + +The instant Marie heard him make this proposal, she untied her pockets, +and gave them to Surgeon Hébert with her own hands. He examined them on +the spot. In one, he found some copper money and a thimble. In the other +(to use his own words, given in evidence) he discovered "various fragments +of bread, sprinkled over with some minute substance which was white and +shining. He kept the fragments of bread, and left the room immediately +without saying a word." By this course of proceeding, he gave Marie no +chance of stating at the outset whether she knew of the fragments of +bread being in her pocket, or whether she was totally ignorant how they +came there. Setting aside, for the present, the question, whether there +was really any arsenic on the crumbs at all, it would clearly have been +showing the unfortunate maid-of-all-work no more than common justice to +have allowed her the opportunity of speaking before the bread was carried +away. + +It was now seven o'clock in the evening. The next event was the arrival +of another officious visitor. The new friend in need belonged to the +legal profession--he was an advocate named Friley. Monsieur Friley's legal +instincts led him straightway to a conclusion which seriously advanced the +progress of events. Having heard the statement of Madame Duparc and her +daughter, he decided that it was his duty to lodge an information against +Marie before the Procurator of the King, at Caen. + +The Procurator of the King is, by this time, no stranger to the reader. +He was the same Monsieur Revel who had taken such an amazingly strong +interest in Marie's fortunes, and who had strongly advised her to try +her luck at Caen. Here then, surely, was a friend found at last for the +forlorn maid-of-all-work. We shall see how Monsieur Revel acted, after +Friley's information had been duly lodged. + +The French law of the period, and, it may be added, the commonest +principles of justice also, required the Procurator to perform certain +plain duties as soon as the accusation against Marie had reached his ears. + +He was, in the first place, bound to proceed immediately, accompanied by +his official colleague, to the spot where the alleged crime of poisoning +was supposed to have taken place. Arrived there, it was his business to +ascertain for himself the condition of the persons attacked with illness; +to hear their statements; to examine the rooms, the kitchen utensils, +and the family medicine-chest, if there happened to be one in the house; +to receive any statement the accused person might wish to make; to take +down her answers to his questions; and, lastly, to keep anything found on +the servant (the breadcrumbs, for instance, of which Surgeon Hébert had +coolly taken possession), or anything found about the house which it might +be necessary to produce in evidence, in a position of absolute security, +under the hand and seal of justice. + +These were the plain duties which Monsieur Revel, the Procurator, was +officially bound to fulfil. In the case of Marie, he not only neglected to +perform any one of them, but actually sanctioned a scheme for entrapping +her into prison, by sending a commissary of police to the house, in plain +clothes, with an order to place her in solitary confinement. To what +motive could this scandalous violation of his duties and of justice be +attributed? The last we saw of Monsieur Revel, he was so benevolently +disposed towards Marie that he condescended to advise her about her +prospects in life, and even went the length of recommending her to seek +for a situation in the very town in which he lived himself. And now, +we find him so suddenly and bitterly hostile towards the former object +of his patronage, that he actually lends the assistance of his high +official position to sanction an accusation against her, into the truth +or falsehood of which he had not made a single inquiry! Can it be that +Monsieur Revel's interest in Marie was, after all, not of the purest +possible kind, and that the unfortunate girl proved too stubbornly +virtuous to be taught what the real end was towards which the attentions +of her over-benevolent adviser privately pointed? There is no evidence +attaching to the case (as how should there be?) to prove this. But is +there any other explanation of Monsieur Revel's conduct, which at all +tends to account for the extraordinary inconsistency of it? + +Having received his secret instructions, the commissary of police--a +man named Bertot--proceeded to the house of Monsieur and Madame Duparc, +disguised in plain clothes. His first proceeding was to order Marie to +produce the various plates, dishes, and kitchen utensils which had been +used at the dinner of Tuesday, the seventh of August (that being the day +on which the poisoning of the company was alleged to have taken place). +Marie produced a saucepan, an earthen vessel, a stewpan, and several +plates piled on each other, in one of which there were the remains of some +soup. These articles Bertot locked up in the kitchen cupboard, and took +away the key with him. He ought to have taken the additional precaution +of placing a seal on the cupboard, so as to prevent any tampering with the +lock, or any treachery with a duplicate key. But this he neglected to do. + +His next proceeding was to tell Marie that the Procurator Revel wished +to speak to her, and to propose that she should accompany him to the +presence of that gentleman forthwith. Not having the slightest suspicion +of any treachery, she willingly consented, and left the house with the +commissary. A friend of the Duparcs, named Vassol, accompanied them. + +Once out of the house, Bertot led his unsuspecting prisoner straight +to the gaol. As soon as she was inside the gates, he informed her that +she was arrested, and proceeded to search her person in the presence of +Vassol, of the gaoler of the prison, and of a woman named Dujardin. The +first thing found on her was a little linen bag, sewn to her petticoat, +and containing a species of religious charm, in the shape of a morsel +of the sacramental wafer. Her pockets came next under review (the +pockets which Surgeon Hébert had previously searched). A little dust was +discovered at the bottom of them, which was shaken out on paper, wrapped +up along with the linen bag, sealed in one packet, and taken to the +Procurator's office. Finally, the woman Dujardin found in Marie's bosom a +little key, which she readily admitted to be the key of her own cupboard. + +The search over, one last act of cruelty and injustice was all that +remained to be committed for that day. The unfortunate girl was placed at +once in solitary confinement. + + +CHAPTER III. THE EVIDENCE. + +Thus far, the case is one of suspicion only. Waiting until the end of the +trial before we decide on whom that suspicion ought to rest, let us now +hear the evidence by which the Duparcs and their adherents proceeded to +justify their conspiracy against the liberty and the life of a friendless +girl. + +Having secured Marie in solitary confinement, and having thus left the +house and all that it contained for a whole night at the free disposal +of the Duparcs, the Procurator Revel bethought himself, the morning after +the arrest of his prisoner, of the necessity of proceeding with something +like official regularity. He accordingly issued his requisition to the +Lieutenant-Criminel to accompany him to the house of Monsieur Duparc, +attended by the medical officers and the clerk, to inquire into the +circumstances under which the suspected death by poisoning of Monsieur de +Beaulieu had taken place. Marie had been imprisoned on the evening of the +seventh of August, and this requisition is dated on the morning of the +eighth. The document betrays one remarkable informality. It mentions the +death of Monsieur de Beaulieu; but is absolutely silent on the subject +of the alleged poisoning of seven persons at dinner the next day. And +yet, it was this latter circumstance only which first directed suspicion +against Marie, and which induced Friley to lodge the information against +her on which the Procurator was now acting. Probably Monsieur Revel's +legal acumen convinced him, at the outset, that the story of the poisoned +dinner was too weak to be relied on. + +The officers of the law, accompanied by the doctors, proceeded to the +house of the Duparcs on the eighth of August. After viewing the body +of Monsieur de Beaulieu, the medical men were directed to open and +examine it. They reported the discovery in the stomach of a reddish, +brick-coloured liquid, somewhat resembling the lees of wine. The mucous +membrane was detached in some places, and its internal surface was +corroded. On examining the reddish liquid, they found it to contain a +crystallised sediment, which, on analysation, proved to be arsenic. Upon +this, the doctors delivered it as their opinion that Monsieur de Beaulieu +had been poisoned, and that poison had been the cause of his death. + +The event having taken this serious turn, the first duty of the +Lieutenant-Criminel (according to the French law) was to send for the +servant on whom suspicion rested, to question her, and to confront her +with the Duparcs. He did nothing of the kind; he made no inquiry after +the servant (being probably unwilling to expose his colleague, the +Procurator, who had illegally arrested and illegally imprisoned her); he +never examined the kitchen utensils which the Commissary had locked up; +he never opened the servant's cupboard with the key that had been taken +from her when she was searched in prison. All he did was to reduce the +report of the doctors to writing, and to return to his office with his +posse-comitatus at his heels. + +It was necessary to summon the witnesses and examine them. But the +Procurator Revel now conveniently remembered the story of the poisoned +dinner, and he sent the Lieutenant-Criminel to examine the Duparcs and +their friends at the private residence of the family, in consideration of +the sickly condition of the eaters of the adulterated meal. It may be as +well to observe, here as elsewhere, that these highly-indulged personages +had none of them been sufficiently inconvenienced even to go to bed, or +in any way to alter their ordinary habits. + +On the afternoon of the eighth, the Lieutenant-Criminel betook himself +to the house of Monsieur Duparc, to collect evidence touching the death +by poison of Monsieur de Beaulieu. The first witness called was Monsieur +Duparc. + +This gentleman, it will be remembered, was away from home, on Monday, the +sixth, when Monsieur de Beaulieu died, and only returned, at the summons +of his eldest son, at half-past eleven on the forenoon of the seventh. He +had nothing to depose connected with the death of his father-in-law, or +with the events which might have taken place in the house on the night +of the sixth and the morning of the seventh. On the other hand, he had +a great deal to say about the state of his own stomach after the dinner +of the seventh--a species of information not calculated to throw much +light on the subject of inquiry, which was the poisoning of Monsieur de +Beaulieu. + +The old lady, Madame de Beaulieu, was next examined. She could give +no evidence of the slightest importance touching the matter in hand; +but, like Monsieur Duparc, she had something to say on the topic of the +poisoned dinner. + +Madame Duparc followed on the list of witnesses. The report of her +examination--so thoroughly had she recovered from the effects of the +dinner of the seventh--ran to a prodigious length. Five-sixths of it +related entirely to her own sensations and suspicions, and the sensations +and suspicions of her relatives and friends, after they had risen from +table. As to the point at issue, the point which affected the liberty, +and perhaps the life, of her unfortunate servant, she had so little to +say that her testimony may be repeated here in her own words: + +"The witness (Madame Duparc) deposed, that after Marie had helped Monsieur +de Beaulieu to get up, she (Marie) hastened out for the milk, and, on +her return with it, prepared the hasty-pudding, took it herself off the +fire, and herself poured it out into the plate--then left the kitchen to +accompany Madame de Beaulieu to mass. Four or five minutes after Monsieur +de Beaulieu had eaten the hasty-pudding, he was seized with violent +illness." + +Short as it is, this statement contains several distinct suppressions of +the truth. + +First, Madame Duparc is wrong in stating that Marie fetched the milk, +for it was the milkwoman who brought it to the house. Secondly, Madame +Duparc conceals the fact that she handed the flour to the servant to +make the hasty-pudding. Thirdly, Madame Duparc does not mention that she +held the plate for the pudding to be poured into, and took it to her +father. Fourthly, and most important of all, Madame Duparc altogether +omits to state, that she sprinkled salt, with her own hands, over the +hasty-pudding--although she had expressly informed her servant, a day or +two before, that salt was never to be mixed with it. At a subsequent stage +of the proceedings, she was charged with having salted the hasty-pudding +herself, and she could not, and did not, deny it. + +The examination of Madame Duparc ended the business on the day of the +eighth. The next morning, the Lieutenant-Criminel, as politely attentive +as before, returned to resume his inquiry at the private residence of +Monsieur Duparc. + +The first witness examined on the second day was Mademoiselle Duparc. She +carefully followed her mother's lead--saying as little as possible about +the preparation of the hasty-pudding on the morning of Monday, and as +much as possible about the pain suffered by everybody after the dinner +of Tuesday. Madame Beauguillot, the next witness, added her testimony, +as to the state of her own digestive organs, after partaking of the same +meal--speaking at such prodigious length that the poison would appear, in +her case, to have produced its principal effect (and that of a stimulating +kind) on her tongue. Her son, Monsieur de Beauguillot, was next examined, +quite uselessly in relation to the death by poison which was the object +of inquiry. The last witness was Madame Duparc's younger son--the same who +had complained of feeling a gritty substance between his teeth at dinner. +In one important respect, his evidence flatly contradicted his mother's. +Madame Duparc had adroitly connected Monsieur de Beaulieu's illness with +the hasty-pudding, by describing the old man as having been taken ill four +or five minutes after eating it. Young Duparc, on the contrary, declared +that his grandfather first felt ill at nine o'clock--exactly two hours +after he had partaken of his morning meal. + +With the evidence of this last witness, the examinations at the private +residence of Monsieur Duparc ended. Thus far, out of the seven persons, +all related to each other, who had been called as witnesses, three +(Monsieur Duparc himself, Madame Beauguillot, and her son) had not been +in the house on the day when Monsieur de Beaulieu died. Of the other +four, who had been present (Madame de Beaulieu, Madame Duparc, her son +and her daughter), not one deposed to a single fact tending to fix on +Marie any reasonable suspicion of having administered poison to Monsieur +de Beaulieu. + +The remaining witnesses, called before the Lieutenant-Criminel, were +twenty-nine in number. Not one of them had been in the house on the Monday +which was the day of the old man's death. Twenty-six of them had nothing +to offer but hearsay evidence on the subject of the events which had taken +place at, and after, the dinner of Tuesday. The testimony of the remaining +three, namely, of Friley, who had lodged the information against Marie; +of Surgeon Hébert, who had searched her pockets in the house; and of +Commissary Bertot, who had searched her for the second time, after taking +her to prison,--was the testimony on which the girl's enemies mainly +relied for substantiating their charges by positively associating her with +the possession of arsenic. + +Let us see what amount of credit can be attached to the evidence of these +three witnesses. + +Friley was the first to be examined. After stating what share he had taken +in bringing Marie to justice (it will be remembered that he lodged his +information against her at the instance of Madame Duparc, without allowing +her to say a word in her own defence), he proceeded to depose that he +hunted about the bed on which the girl had lain down to recover herself, +and that he discovered on the mattress seven or eight scattered grains of +some substance, which resembled the powder reported to have been found +on the crumbs in her pockets. He added further, that on the next day, +about two hours before the body of Monsieur de Beaulieu was examined, he +returned to the house; searched under the bed, with Monsieur Duparc and +a soldier named Cauvin; and found there four or five grains more of the +same substance which he had discovered on the mattress. + +Here were two separate portions of poison found, then. What did Friley do +with them? Did he seal them up immediately in the presence of witnesses, +and take them to the legal authorities? Nothing of the sort. On being +asked what he did with the first portion, he replied that he gave it to +young Monsieur Beauguillot. Beauguillot's evidence was thereupon referred +to; and it was found that he had never mentioned receiving the packet of +powder from Friley. He had made himself extremely officious in examining +the kitchen utensils; he had been as anxious as any one to promote the +discovery of arsenic; and when he had the opportunity of producing it, if +Friley were to be believed, he held it back, and said not one word about +the matter. So much for the first portion of the mysterious powder, and +for the credibility of Friley's evidence thus far! + +On being questioned as to what he had done with the second portion, +alleged to have been found under the bed, Friley replied that he had +handed it to the doctors who opened the body, and that they had tried to +discover what it was, by burning it between two copper pieces. A witness +who had been present at this proceeding declared, on being questioned, +that the experiment had been made with some remains of hasty-pudding +scraped out of the saucepan. Here again was a contradiction, and here, +once more, Friley's evidence was, to say the least of it, not to be +depended on. + +Surgeon Hébert followed. What had he done with the crumbs of bread +scattered over with white powder, which he had found in Marie's pocket? He +had, after showing them to the company in the drawing-room, exhibited them +next to the apothecary, and handed them afterwards to another medical man. +Being finally assured that there was arsenic on the bread, he had sealed +up the crumbs, and given the packet to the legal authorities. When had +he done that? On the day of his examination as a witness--the fourteenth +of August. When did he find the crumbs? On the seventh. Here was the +arsenic, in this case, then, passing about from hand to hand, and not +sealed up, for seven days. Had Surgeon Hébert anything more to say? Yes, +he had another little lot of arsenic to hand in, which a lady-friend of +his had told him she had found on Marie's bed, and which, like the first +lot, had been passed about privately for seven days, from hand to hand, +before it was sealed up. To us, in these later and better days, it seems +hardly credible that the judge should have admitted these two packets in +evidence. It is, nevertheless, the disgraceful fact that he did so receive +them. + +Commissary Bertot came next. He and the man named Vassol, who had helped +him to entrap Marie into prison, and to search her before she was placed +in solitary confinement, were examined in succession, and contradicted +each other on oath, in the flattest manner. + +Bertot stated that he had discovered the dust at the bottom of her +pockets; had shaken it out on paper; had placed with it the little linen +bag, containing a morsel of the sacramental wafer, which had been sewn +to her petticoat; had sealed the two up in one packet; and had taken the +packet to the proper office. Vassol, on the other hand, swore that _he_ +had shaken out the pockets, and had made up the packet; and that Bertot +had done nothing in the matter but lend his seal. Contradicting each other +in these details, both agreed that what they had found on the girl was +inclosed and sealed up in _one_ packet, which they had left at the office, +neglecting to take such a receipt for it as might have established its +identity in writing. At this stage of the proceedings the packet was sent +for. Three packets appeared instead of one! Two were composed of paper, +and contained dust and a little white powder. The third was the linen bag, +presented without any covering at all. Vassol, bewildered by the change, +declared that of these three separate objects, he could only identify +one--the linen bag. In this case, it was as clear as daylight that +somebody must have tampered with the single sealed packet which Bertot and +Vassol swore to having left at the office. No attempt, however, was made +to investigate this circumstance; and the case for the prosecution--so far +as the accusation of poisoning was concerned--closed with the examination +of Bertot and Vassol. + +Such was the evidence produced in support of a charge which involved +nothing less than the life or death of a human being. + + +CHAPTER IV. THE SENTENCE. + +While the inquiry was in course of progress, various details connected +with it found their way out of doors. The natural sense of justice among +the people which had survived the corruptions of the time, was aroused to +assert itself on behalf of the maid-of-all-work. The public voice spoke as +loudly as it dared, in those days, in Marie's favour, and in condemnation +of the conspiracy against her. + +People persisted, from the first, in inquiring how it was that arsenic +had got into the house of Monsieur Duparc; and rumour answered, in more +than one direction, that a member of the family had purchased the poison +a short time since, and that there were persons in the town who could +prove it. To the astonishment of every one, no steps were taken by the +legal authorities to clear up this report, and to establish the truth or +the falsehood of it, before the trial. Another circumstance, of which +also no explanation was attempted, filled the public mind with natural +suspicion. This was the disappearance of the eldest son of Monsieur and +Madame Duparc. On the day of his grandfather's sudden death, he had been +sent, as may be remembered, to bring his father back from the country; +and, from that time forth, he had never reappeared at the house, and +nobody could say what had become of him. Was it not natural to connect +together the rumours of purchased poison and the mysterious disappearance +of this young man? Was it not utterly inconsistent with any proceedings +conducted in the name of justice to let these suspicious circumstances +exist, without making the slightest attempt to investigate and to explain +them? + +But, apart from all other considerations, the charge against Marie, was on +the face of it preposterously incredible. A friendless young girl arrives +at a strange town, possessing excellent testimonials to her character, +and gets a situation in a family every member of which is utterly unknown +to her until she enters the house. Established in her new place, she +instantly conceives the project of poisoning the whole family, and carries +it out in five days from the time when she first took her situation, by +killing one member of the household, and producing suspicious symptoms +of illness in the cases of all the rest. She commits this crime having +nothing to gain by it; and she is so inconceivably reckless of detection +that she scatters poison about the bed on which she lies down, leaves +poison sticking to crumbs in her pockets, puts those pockets on when +her mistress tells her to do so, and hands them over without a moment's +hesitation to the first person who asks permission to search them. What +mortal evidence could substantiate such a wild charge as this? How does +the evidence actually presented substantiate it? No shadow of proof that +she had purchased arsenic is offered, to begin with. The evidence against +her is evidence which attempts to associate her with the actual possession +of poison. What is it worth? In the first place, the witnesses contradict +each other. In the second place, in no one case in which powdered +substances were produced in evidence against her, had those powdered +substances been so preserved as to prevent their being tampered with. Two +packets of the powder pass about from hand to hand for seven days; two +have been given to witnesses who can't produce them, or account for what +has become of them; and one, which the witnesses who made it up swear to +as a single packet, suddenly expands into three when it is called for in +evidence! + +Careless as they were of assuming even the external decencies of justice, +the legal authorities, and their friends the Duparcs, felt that there +would be some risk in trying their victim for her life on such evidence as +this, in a large town like Caen. It was impossible to shift their ground +and charge her with poisoning accidentally; for they either could not, or +would not, account on ordinary grounds for the presence of arsenic in the +house. And, even if this difficulty were overcome, and if it were alleged +that arsenic purchased for killing vermin, had been carelessly placed in +one of the saltcellars on the dresser, Madame Duparc could not deny that +her own hands had salted the hasty-pudding on the Monday, and that her +servant had been too ill through exhaustion to cook the dinner on the +Tuesday. Even supposing there were no serious interests of the vilest kind +at stake, which made the girl's destruction a matter of necessity, it was +clearly impossible to modify the charge against her. One other alternative +remained--the alternative of adding a second accusation which might help +to strengthen the first, and to degrade Marie in the estimation of those +inhabitants of the town who were now disposed to sympathise with her. + +The poor girl's character was so good, her previous country life had been +so harmless, that no hint or suggestion for a second charge against her +could be found in her past history. If her enemies were to succeed, it was +necessary to rely on pure invention. Having hesitated before no extremes +of baseness and falsehood, thus far, they were true to themselves in +regard to any vile venture which remained to be tried. + +A day or two after the examination of the witnesses called to prove the +poisoning had been considered complete, the public of Caen were amazed +to hear that certain disclosures had taken place which would render it +necessary to try Marie, on a charge of theft as well as of poisoning. +She was now not only accused of the murder of Monsieur de Beaulieu, +but of robbing her former mistress, Madame Dumesnil (a relation, be it +remembered, of Monsieur Revel's), in the situation she occupied before +she came to Caen; of robbing Madame Duparc; and of robbing the shopwoman +from whom she had bought the piece of orange-coloured stuff, the purchase +of which is mentioned in an early part of this narrative. + +There is no need to hinder the progress of the story by entering into +details in relation to this second atrocious charge. When the reader +is informed that the so-called evidence in support of the accusation of +theft was got up by Procurator Revel, by Commissary Bertot, and by Madame +Duparc, he will know beforehand what importance to attach to it, and what +opinion to entertain on the question of the prisoner's innocence or guilt. + +The preliminary proceedings were now considered to be complete. During +their progress, Marie had been formally interrogated, in her prison, +by the legal authorities. Fearful as her situation was, the poor girl +seems to have maintained self-possession enough to declare her innocence +of poisoning, and her innocence of theft, firmly. Her answers, it is +needless to say, availed her nothing. No legal help was assigned to her; +no such institution as a jury was in existence in France. Procurator Revel +collected the evidence, Procurator Revel tried the case, Procurator Revel +delivered the sentence. Need the reader be told that Marie's irresponsible +judge and unscrupulous enemy had no difficulty whatever in finding her +guilty? She had been arrested on the seventh of August, seventeen hundred +and eighty-one. Her doom was pronounced on the seventeenth of April, +seventeen hundred and eighty-two. Throughout the whole of that interval +she remained in prison. + +The sentence was delivered in the following terms. It was written, +printed, and placarded in Caen; and it is here translated from the +original French: + +"The Procurator Royal of the Bailiwick and civil and criminal Bench and +Presidency of Caen, having taken cognizance of the documents concerning +the trial specially instituted against Marie-Françoise-Victoire-Salmon, +accused of poisoning; the said documents consisting of an official report +of the capture of the said Marie-Françoise-Victoire-Salmon on the seventh +of August last, together with other official reports, &c., + +"Requires that the prisoner shall be declared duly convicted, + +"I. Of having, on the Monday morning of the sixth of August last, cooked +some hasty-pudding for Monsieur Paisant de Beaulieu, father-in-law +of Monsieur Huet-Duparc, in whose house the prisoner had lived in the +capacity of servant from the first day of the said month of August; and +of having put arsenic in the said hasty-pudding while cooking it, by which +arsenic the said Monsieur de Beaulieu died poisoned, about six o'clock on +the same evening. + +"II. Of having on the next day, Tuesday, the seventh of August last, put +arsenic into the soup which was served, at noon, at the table of Monsieur +and Madame Duparc, her employers, in consequence of which all those +persons who sat at table and eat of the said soup were poisoned and made +dangerously ill, to the number of seven. + +"III. Of having been discovered with arsenic in her possession, which +arsenic was found on the said Tuesday, in the afternoon, not only in the +pockets of the prisoner, but upon the mattress of the bed on which she +was resting; the said arsenic having been recognised as being of the same +nature and precisely similar to that which the guests discovered to have +been put into their soup, as also to that which was found the next day, +in the body of the aforesaid Monsieur de Beaulieu, and in the saucepan in +which the hasty-pudding had been cooked, of which the aforesaid Monsieur +de Beaulieu had eaten. + +"IV. Of being _strongly suspected_ of having put some of the same arsenic +into a plate of cherries which she served to Madame de Beaulieu, on the +same Tuesday morning, and again on the afternoon of the same day at the +table of Monsieur and Madame Duparc. + +"V. Of having, at the period of Michaelmas, seventeen hundred and eighty, +committed different robberies at the house of Monsieur Dumesnil, where +she lived in the capacity of servant, and notably of stealing a sheet, of +which she made herself a petticoat and an apron. + +"VI. Of having, at the beginning of the month of August last, stolen, in +the house of Monsieur Huet-Duparc, the different articles enumerated at +the trial, and which were found locked up in her cupboard. + +"VII. Of being _strongly suspected_ of stealing, at the beginning of the +said month of August, from the woman Lefévre, a piece of orange-coloured +stuff. + +"For punishment and reparation of which offences, she, the said +Marie-Françoise-Victoire-Salmon, shall be condemned to make atonement, in +her shift, with a halter round her neck, holding in her hands a burning +wax candle of the weight of two pounds, before the principal gate and +entrance of the church of St. Peter, to which she shall be taken and +led by the executioner of criminal sentences, who will tie in front of +her and behind her back, a placard, on which shall be written in large +characters, these words:--_Poisoner and Domestic Thief_. And there, being +on her knees, she shall declare that she has wickedly committed the said +robberies and poisonings, for which she repents and asks pardon of God +and Justice. This done, she shall be led by the said executioner to the +square of the market of Saint Saviour's, to be there fastened to a stake +with a chain of iron, and to be burnt alive; her body to be reduced to +ashes, and the ashes to be cast to the winds; her goods to be acquired +and confiscated to the king, or to whomsoever else they may belong. Said +goods to be charged with a fine of ten livres to the king, in the event +of the confiscation not turning to the profit of his Majesty. + +"Required, additionally, that the said prisoner shall be previously +submitted to the Ordinary and Extraordinary Torture, to obtain information +of her accomplices, and notably of those who either sold to her or gave +to her the arsenic found in her possession. Order hereby given for the +printing and placarding of this sentence, in such places as shall be +judged fit. Deliberated at the bar, this seventeenth April, seventeen +hundred and eighty-two. + + "(Signed) REVEL." + +On the next day, the eighteenth, this frightful sentence was formally +confirmed. + +The matter had now become public, and no one could prevent the unfortunate +prisoner from claiming whatever rights the law still allowed her. She had +the privilege of appealing against her sentence before the parliament of +Rouen. And she appealed accordingly; being transferred, as directed by +the law in such cases, from the prison at Caen to the prison at Rouen, to +await the decision of the higher tribunal. + +On the seventeenth of May the Rouen parliament delivered its judgment, +and confirmed the original sentence. + +There was some difficulty, at first, in making the unhappy girl understand +that her last chance for life had failed her. When the fact that her +sentence was ordered to be carried out was at length impressed on her +mind, she sank down with her face on the prison floor--then started up on +her knees, passionately shrieking to Heaven to have pity on her, and to +grant her the justice and the protection which men denied. Her agitation +at the frightful prospect before her was so violent, her screams of +terror were so shrill and piercing, that all the persons connected with +the management of the prison hurried together to her cell. Among the +number were three priests, who were accustomed to visit the prisoners and +to administer spiritual consolation to them. These three men mercifully +set themselves to soothe the mental agony from which the poor creature +was suffering. When they had partially quieted her, they soon found her +willing and anxious to answer their questions. They inquired carefully +into the main particulars of her sad story; and all three came to the same +conclusion, that she was innocent. Seeing the impression she had produced +on them, she caught, in her despair, at the idea that they might be able +to preserve her life; and the dreadful duty devolved on them of depriving +her of this last hope. After the confirmation of the sentence, all that +they could do was to prove their compassion by preparing her for eternity. + +On the 26th of May, the priests spoke their last words of comfort to her +soul. She was taken back again, to await the execution of her sentence in +the prison of Caen. The day was at last fixed for her death by burning, +and the morning came when the Torture-Chamber was opened to receive her. + + +CHAPTER V. HUSHED-UP. + +The saddest part of Marie's sad story now remains to be told. + +One resource was left her, by employing which it was possible, at the +last moment, to avert for a few months the frightful prospect of the +torture and the stake. The unfortunate girl might stoop, on her side, +to use the weapons of deception against her enemies, and might defame +her own character by pleading pregnancy. That one miserable alternative +was all that now remained; and, in the extremity of mortal terror, +with the shadow of the executioner on her prison, and with the agony of +approaching torment and death at her heart, the forlorn creature accepted +it. If the law of strict morality must judge her in this matter without +consideration, and condemn her without appeal, the spirit of Christian +mercy--remembering how sorely she was tried, remembering the frailty of +our common humanity, remembering the warning word which forbade us to +judge one another--may open its sanctuary of tenderness to a sister in +affliction, and may offer her the tribute of its pity, without limit and +without blame. + +The plea of pregnancy was admitted, and, at the eleventh hour, the period +of the execution was deferred. On the day when her ashes were to have been +cast to the winds, she was still in her prison, a living, breathing woman. +Her limbs were spared from the torture, her body was released from the +stake, until the twenty-ninth of July, seventeen hundred and eighty-two. +On that day her reprieve was to end, and the execution of her sentence +was absolutely to take place. + +During the short period of grace which was now to elapse, the situation of +the friendless girl, accused of such incredible crimes and condemned to +so awful a doom, was discussed far and wide in French society. The case +became notorious beyond the limits of Caen. The report of it spread by +way of Rouen, from mouth to mouth, till it reached Paris; and from Paris +it penetrated into the palace of the King at Versailles. That unhappy +man, whose dreadful destiny it was to pay the penalty which the long and +noble endurance of the French people had too mercifully abstained from +inflicting on his guilty predecessors, had then lately mounted the fatal +steps of the throne. Louis the Sixteenth was sovereign of France when the +story of the poor servant-girl obtained its first court-circulation at +Versailles. + +The conduct of the King, when the main facts of Marie's case came to +his ears, did all honour to his sense of duty and his sense of justice. +He instantly despatched his Royal order to suspend the execution of the +sentence. The report of Marie's fearful situation had reached him so short +a time before the period appointed for her death, that the Royal mandate +was only delivered to the parliament of Rouen on the twenty-sixth of July. + +The girl's life now hung literally on a thread. An accident happening to +the courier, any delay in fulfilling the wearisome official formalities +proper to the occasion--and the execution might have taken its course. +The authorities at Rouen, feeling that the King's interference implied +a rebuke of their inconsiderate confirmation of the Caen sentence, did +their best to set themselves right for the future by registering the +Royal order on the day when they received it. The next morning, the +twenty-seventh, it was sent to Caen; and it reached the authorities there +on the twenty-eighth. + +That twenty-eighth of July, seventeen hundred and eighty-two, fell on a +Sunday. Throughout the day and night the order lay in the office unopened. +Sunday was a holiday, and Procurator Revel was not disposed to occupy it +by so much as five minutes, performance of week-day work. + +On Monday, the twenty-ninth, the crowd assembled to see the execution. The +stake was set up, the soldiers were called out, the executioner was ready. +All the preliminary horror of the torturing and burning was suffered to +darken round the miserable prisoner, before the wretches in authority saw +fit to open the message of mercy and to deliver it at the prison-gate. + +She was now saved, as if by a miracle, for the second time! But the +cell-door was still closed on her. The only chance of ever opening it--the +only hope of publicly asserting her innocence, lay in appealing to the +King's justice by means of a written statement of her case, presenting +it exactly as it stood in all its details, from the beginning at Madame +Duparc's to the end in the prison of Caen. The production of such a +document as this was beset with obstacles; the chief of them being the +difficulty of gaining access to the voluminous reports of the evidence +given at the trial, which were only accessible in those days to persons +professionally connected with the courts of law. If Marie's case was to be +placed before the King, no man in France but a lawyer could undertake the +duty with the slightest chance of serving the interests of the prisoner +and the interests of truth. + +In this disgraceful emergency a man was found to plead the girl's +cause, whose profession secured to him the privilege of examining the +evidence against her. This man--a barrister, named Lecauchois--not only +undertook to prepare a statement of the case from the records of the +court--but further devoted himself to collecting money for Marie, from +all the charitably-disposed inhabitants of the town. It is to be said +to his credit that he honestly faced the difficulties of his task, and +industriously completed the document which he had engaged to furnish. On +the other hand, it must be recorded to his shame, that his motives were +interested throughout, and that with almost incredible meanness he paid +himself for the employment of his time by putting the greater part of the +sum which he had collected for his client in his own pocket. With her one +friend, no less than with all her enemies, it seems to have been Marie's +hard fate to see the worst side of human nature, on every occasion when +she was brought into contact with her fellow-creatures. + +The statement pleading for the revision of Marie's trial was sent to +Paris. An eminent barrister at the Court of Requests framed a petition +from it, the prayer of which was granted by the King. Acting under the +Royal order, the judges of the Court of Requests furnished themselves with +the reports of the evidence as drawn up at Caen; and after examining the +whole case, unanimously decided that there was good and sufficient reason +for the revision of the trial. The order to that effect was not issued to +the parliament of Rouen before the twenty-fourth of May, seventeen hundred +and eighty-four--nearly two years after the King's mercy had saved Marie +from the executioner. Who can say how slowly that long, long time must +have passed to the poor girl who was still languishing in her prison? + +The Rouen parliament, feeling that it was held accountable for its +proceedings to a high court of judicature, acting under the direct +authority of the King himself, recognised at last, readily enough, that +the interests of its own reputation and the interests of rigid justice +were now intimately bound up together; and applied itself impartially, on +this occasion at least, to the consideration of Marie's case. + +As a necessary consequence of this change of course, the authorities of +Caen began, for the first time, to feel seriously alarmed for themselves. +If the parliament of Rouen dealt fairly by the prisoner, a fatal exposure +of the whole party would be the certain result. Under these circumstances, +Procurator Revel and his friends sent a private requisition to the +authorities at Rouen, conjuring them to remember that the respectability +of their professional brethren was at stake, and suggesting that the legal +establishment of Marie's innocence was the error of all others which it +was now most urgently necessary to avoid. The parliament of Rouen was, +however, far too cautious, if not too honest, to commit itself to such +an atrocious proceeding as was here plainly indicated. After gaining as +much time as possible by prolonging their deliberations to the utmost, the +authorities resolved on adopting a middle course, which on the one hand +should not actually establish the prisoner's innocence, and, on the other, +should not publicly expose the disgraceful conduct of the prosecution +at Caen. Their decree, not issued until the twelfth of March, seventeen +hundred and eighty-five, annulled the sentence of Procurator Revel on +technical grounds; suppressed the further publication of the statement +of Marie's case, which had been drawn out by the advocate Lecauchois, +as libellous towards Monsieur Revel and Madame Duparc; and announced +that the prisoner was ordered to remain in confinement until more ample +information could be collected relating to the doubtful question of her +innocence or her guilt. No such information was at all likely to present +itself (more especially after the only existing narrative of the case +had been suppressed); and the practical effect of the decree, therefore, +was to keep Marie in prison for an indefinite period, after she had +been illegally deprived of her liberty already from August, seventeen +hundred and eighty-one, to March, seventeen hundred and eighty-five. Who +shall say that the respectable classes did not take good care of their +respectability on the eve of the French Revolution! + +Marie's only hope of recovering her freedom, and exposing her unscrupulous +enemies to the obloquy and the punishment which they richly deserved, lay +in calling the attention of the higher tribunals of the capital to the +cruelly cunning decree of the parliament of Rouen. Accordingly, she once +more petitioned the throne. The King referred the document to his council; +and the council issued an order submitting the Rouen decree to the final +investigation of the parliament of Paris. + +At last, then, after more than three miserable years of imprisonment, +the victim of Madame Duparc and Procurator Revel had burst her way +through all intervening obstacles of law and intricacies of office, to +the judgment-seat of that highest law-court in the country, which had the +final power of ending her long sufferings and of doing her signal justice +on her adversaries of all degrees. The parliament of Paris was now to +estimate the unutterable wrong that had been inflicted on her; and the +eloquent tongue of one of the first advocates of that famous bar was to +plead her cause openly before God, the king, and the country. + +The pleading of Monsieur Fournel (Marie's counsel) before the parliament +of Paris, remains on record. At the outset, he assumes the highest ground +for the prisoner. He disclaims all intention of gaining her liberty by +taking the obvious technical objections to the illegal and irregular +sentences of Caen and Rouen. He insists on the necessity of vindicating +her innocence legally and morally before the world, and of obtaining the +fullest compensation that the law allows for the merciless injuries which +the original prosecution had inflicted on his client. In pursuance of this +design, he then proceeds to examine the evidence of the alleged poisoning +and the alleged robbery, step by step, pointing out in the fullest detail +the monstrous contradictions and improbabilities which have been already +briefly indicated in this narrative. The course thus pursued, with +signal clearness and ability, leads, as every one who has followed the +particulars of the case from the beginning will readily understand, to a +very serious result. The arguments for the defence cannot assert Marie's +innocence without shifting the whole weight of suspicion, in the matter +of Monsieur de Beaulieu's death by poisoning, on to the shoulders of her +mistress, Madame Duparc. + +It is necessary, in order to prepare the reader for the extraordinary +termination of the proceedings, to examine this question of suspicion in +some of its most striking details. + +The poisoning of Monsieur de Beaulieu may be accepted, in consideration +of the medical evidence, as a proved fact, to begin with. The question +that remains is, whether that poisoning was accidental or premeditated. +In either case, the evidence points directly at Madame Duparc, and leads +to the conclusion that she tried to shift the blame of the poisoning (if +accidental) and the guilt of it (if premeditated) from herself to her +servant. + +Suppose the poisoning to have been accidental. Suppose arsenic to have +been purchased for some legitimate domestic purpose, and to have been +carelessly left in one of the salt-cellars, on the dresser--who salts +the hasty-pudding? Madame Duparc. Who--assuming that the dinner next +day really contained some small portion of poison, just enough to swear +by--prepared that dinner? Madame Duparc and her daughter, while the +servant was asleep. Having caused the death of her father, and having +produced symptoms of illness in herself and her guests, by a dreadful +accident, how does the circumstantial evidence further show that Madame +Duparc tried to fix the responsibility of that accident on her servant, +before she openly charged the girl with poisoning? + +In the first place, Madame Duparc is the only one of the dinner-party +who attributes the general uneasiness to poison. She not only does this, +but she indicates the kind of poison used, and declares in the kitchen +that it is burnt,--so as to lead to the inference that the servant, +who has removed the dishes, has thrown some of the poisoned food on the +fire. Here is a foregone conclusion on the subject of arsenic in Madame +Duparc's mind, and an inference in connection with it, directed at the +servant by Madame Duparc's lips. In the second place, if any trust at all +is to be put in the evidence touching the finding of arsenic on or about +Marie's person, that trust must be reposed in the testimony of Surgeon +Hébert, who first searched the girl. Where does he find the arsenic and +the bread crumbs? In Marie's pockets. Who takes the most inexplicably +officious notice of such a trifle as Marie's dress, at the most shockingly +inappropriate time, when the father of Madame Duparc lies dead in the +house? Madame Duparc herself. Who tells Marie to take off her Sunday +pockets, and sends her into her own room (which she herself has not +entered during the night, and which has been open to the intrusion of any +one else in the house) to tie on the very pockets in which the arsenic is +found? Madame Duparc. Who put the arsenic into the pockets? Is it jumping +to a conclusion to answer once more--Madame Duparc? + +Thus far we have assumed that the mistress attempted to shift the blame +of a fatal accident on to the shoulders of the servant. Do the facts bear +out that theory, or do they lead to the suspicion that the woman was a +parricide, and that she tried to fix on the friendless country girl the +guilt of her dreadful crime? + +If the poisoning of the hasty-pudding (to begin with) was accidental, +the salting of it, through which the poisoning was, to all appearance, +effected, must have been a part of the habitual cookery of the dish. So +far, however, from this being the case, Madame Duparc had expressly warned +her servant not to use salt; and only used the salt (or the arsenic) +herself, after asking a question which implied a direct contradiction of +her own directions, and the inconsistency of which she made no attempt +whatever to explain. Again, when her father was taken ill, if Madame +Duparc had been only the victim of an accident, would she have remained +content with no better help than that of an apothecary's boy? would she +not have sent, as her father grew worse, for the best medical assistance +which the town afforded? The facts show that she summoned just help +enough, barely to save appearances, and no more. The facts show that +she betrayed a singular anxiety to have the body laid out as soon as +possible after life was extinct. The facts show that she maintained +an unnatural composure on the day of the death. These are significant +circumstances. They speak for themselves independently of the evidence +given afterwards, in which she and her child contradicted each other as +to the time that elapsed when the old man had eaten his fatal meal, before +he was taken ill. Add to these serious facts the mysterious disappearance +from the house of the eldest son, which was never accounted for; and +the rumour of purchased poison, which was never investigated. Consider, +besides, whether the attempt to sacrifice the servant's life be not more +consistent with the ruthless determination of a criminal, than with the +terror of an innocent woman who shrinks from accepting the responsibility +of a frightful accident--and determine, at the same time, whether the +infinitesimal amount of injury done by the poisoned dinner can be most +probably attributed to lucky accident, or to premeditated doctoring of the +dishes with just arsenic enough to preserve appearances, and to implicate +the servant without too seriously injuring the company on whom she waited. +Give all these serious considerations their due weight; then look back to +the day of Monsieur de Beaulieu's death: and say if Madame Duparc was the +victim of a dreadful accident, or the perpetrator of an atrocious crime! + +That she was one or the other, and that, in either case, she was the +originator of the vile conspiracy against her servant which these pages +disclose, was the conclusion to which Monsieur Fournel's pleading +on his client's behalf inevitably led. That pleading satisfactorily +demonstrated Marie's innocence of poisoning and theft, and her fair claim +to the fullest legal compensation for the wrong inflicted on her. On the +twenty-third of May, seventeen hundred and eighty-six, the parliament of +Paris issued its decree, discharging her from the remotest suspicion of +guilt, releasing her from her long imprisonment, and authorizing her to +bring an action for damages against the person or persons who had falsely +accused her of murder and theft. The truth had triumphed, and the poor +servant-girl had found laws to protect her at last. + +Under these altered circumstances, what happened to Madame Duparc? What +happened to Procurator Revel and his fellow-conspirators? What happened +to the authorities of the parliament of Rouen? + +Nothing. + +The premonitory rumblings of that great earthquake of nations which +History calls the French Revolution, were, at this time, already +beginning to make themselves heard; and any public scandal which affected +the wealthier and higher classes involved a serious social risk, the +importance of which no man in France could then venture to estimate. If +Marie claimed the privilege which a sense of justice, or rather a sense +of decency, had forced the parliament of Paris to concede to her,--and, +through her counsel, she did claim it,--the consequences of the legal +inquiry into her case which her demand for damages necessarily involved, +would probably be the trying of Madame Duparc, either for parricide, or +for homicide by misadventure; the dismissal of Procurator Revel from the +functions which he had disgracefully abused; and the suspension from +office of the authorities at Caen and Rouen, who had in various ways +forfeited public confidence by aiding and abetting him. + +Here, then, was no less a prospect in view than the disgrace of +a respectable family, and the dishonouring of the highest legal +functionaries of two important provincial towns! And for what end was the +dangerous exposure to be made? Merely to do justice to the daughter of +a common day-labourer, who had been illegally sentenced to torture and +burning, and illegally confined in prison for nearly five years. To make a +wholesale sacrifice of her superiors, no matter how wicked they might be, +for the sake of giving a mere servant-girl compensation for the undeserved +obloquy and misery of many years, was too preposterous and too suicidal +an act of justice to be thought of for a moment. Accordingly, when Marie +was prepared to bring her action for damages, the lawyers laid their +heads together, in the interests of society. It was found possible to put +her out of court at once and for ever, by taking a technical objection +to the proceedings in which she was plaintiff, at the very outset. This +disgraceful means of escape once discovered, the girl's guilty persecutors +instantly took advantage of it. She was formally put out of court, without +the possibility of any further appeal. Procurator Revel and the other +authorities retained their distinguished legal positions; and the question +of the guilt or innocence of Madame Duparc, in the matter of her father's +death, remains a mystery which no man can solve to this day. + +After recording this scandalous termination of the legal proceedings, +it is gratifying to be able to conclude the story of Marie's unmerited +sufferings with a picture of her after-life which leaves an agreeable +impression on the mind. + +If popular sympathy, after the servant-girl's release from prison, +could console her for the hard measure of injustice under which she had +suffered so long and so unavailingly, that sympathy was now offered to +her heartily and without limit. She became quite a public character in +Paris. The people followed her in crowds wherever she went. A subscription +was set on foot, which, for the time at least, secured her a comfortable +independence. Friends rose up in all directions to show her such attention +as might be in their power; and the simple country girl, when she was +taken to see the sights of Paris, actually beheld her own name placarded +in the showmen's bills, and her presence advertised as the greatest +attraction that could be offered to the public. When, in due course of +time, all this excitement had evaporated, Marie married prosperously, +and the government granted her its licence to open a shop for the sale of +stamped papers. The last we hear of her is, that she was a happy wife and +mother, and that she performed every duty of life in such a manner as to +justify the deep interest which had been universally felt for her by the +people of France. + + * * * * * + +Her story is related here, not only because it seemed to contain some +elements of interest in itself, but also because the facts of which it is +composed may claim to be of some little historical importance, as helping +to expose the unendurable corruptions of society in France before the +Revolution. It may not be amiss for those persons whose historical point +of view obstinately contracts its range to the Reign of Terror, to look +a little farther back--to remember that the hard case of oppression here +related had been, for something like one hundred years, the case (with +minor changes of circumstance) of the forlorn many against the powerful +few, all over France--and then to consider whether there was not a reason +and a necessity, a dreadful last necessity, for the French Revolution. +That Revolution has expiated, and is still expiating, its excesses, by +political failures, which all the world can see. But the social good +which it indisputably effected remains to this day. Take, as an example, +the administration of justice in France at the present time. Whatever its +shortcomings may still be, no innocent French woman could be treated, now, +as an innocent French woman was once treated at a period so little remote +from our own time as the end of the last century. + + + + +SKETCHES OF CHARACTER.-VI. + +MY SPINSTERS. + +[Introduced by an Innocent Old Man.] + + +My young bachelor friends, suspend your ordinary avocations for a few +minutes and listen to me. I am a benevolent old gentleman, residing +in a small country town, possessing a comfortable property, a devoted +housekeeper, and some charming domestic animals. I have no wife, no +children, no poor relations, no cares, and nothing to do. I am a nice, +harmless, idle old man; and I want to have a word with you in confidence, +my worthy young bachelor friends. + +I have a mania. Is it saving money? No. Good living? No. Music? Smoking? +Angling? Pottery? Pictures? No, no, no,--nothing of the selfish sort. +My mania is as amiable as myself: it contemplates nothing less than the +future happiness of all the single ladies of my acquaintance. I call them +My Spinsters; and the one industrious object of my idle existence is to +help them to a matrimonial settlement in life. In my own youth I missed +the chance of getting a wife, as I have always firmly believed, for want +of meeting with a tender-hearted old gentleman like myself to help me to +the necessary spinster. It is possibly this reflection which originally +led to the formation of the benevolent mania that now possesses me. +Perhaps sheer idleness, a gallant turn of mind, and living in a small +country town, have had something to do with it also. You see I shirk +nothing. I do not attempt any deception as to the motive which induces me +to call you together. I appear before you in the character of an amateur +matrimonial agent having a few choice spinsters to dispose of; and I can +wait patiently, my brisk young bachelor friends, until I find that you +are ready to make me a bid. + +Shall we proceed at once to business? Shall we try some soft and +sentimental Spinsters to begin with? I am anxious to avoid mistakes at +the outset, and I think softness and sentiment are perhaps the safest +attractions to start upon. Let us begin with the six unmarried sisters of +my friend Mr. Bettifer. + +I became acquainted, gentlemen, with Mr. Bettifer in our local +reading-rooms, immediately after he came to settle in my neighbourhood. +He was then a very young man, in delicate health, with a tendency to +melancholy and a turn for metaphysics. I profited by his invitation as +soon as he was kind enough to ask me to call on him; and I found that he +lived with his six sisters, under the following agreeable circumstances. + +On the morning of my visit, I was shown into a very long room, with a +piano at one end of it and an easel at another. Mr. Bettifer was alone at +his writing-desk when I came in. I apologised for interrupting him, but he +very politely assured me that my presence acted as an inestimable relief +to his mind, which had been stretched--to use his own strong language--on +the metaphysical rack all the morning. He gave his forehead a violent rub +as he mentioned this circumstance, and we sat down and looked seriously +at one another, in silence. Though not at all a bashful old man, I began +nevertheless to feel a little confused at this period of the interview. + +"I know no question so embarrassing," began Mr. Bettifer, by way of +starting the talk pleasantly, "as the question on which I have been +engaged this morning--I refer to the subject of our own Personality. +Here am I, and there are you--let us say two Personalities. Are we a +permanent, or are we a transient thing? There is the problem, my dear sir, +which I have been vainly trying to solve since breakfast-time. Can you +(metaphysically speaking) be one and the same person, for example, for two +moments together, any more than two successive moments can be one and the +same moment?--My sister Kitty." + +The door opened as my host propounded this alarming dilemma, and a tall +young lady glided serenely into the room. I rose and bowed. The tall young +lady sank softly into a chair opposite me. Mr. Bettifer went on: + +"You may tell me that our substance is constantly changing. I grant you +that; but do you get me out of the difficulty? Not the least in the world. +For it is not substance, but----My sister Maria." + +The door opened again. A second tall young lady glided in, and sank into +a chair by her sister's side. Mr. Bettifer went on: + +"As I was about to remark, it is not substance, but consciousness, which +constitutes Personality. Now what is the nature of consciousness?--My +sisters Emily and Jane." + +The door opened for the third time, and two tall young ladies glided in, +and sank into two chairs by the sides of their two sisters. Mr. Bettifer +went on: + +"The nature of consciousness I take to be that it cannot be the same in +any two moments, nor consequently the personality constituted by it. Do +you grant me that?" + +Lost in metaphysical bewilderment, I granted it directly. Just as I +said yes, the door opened again, a fifth tall young lady glided in, +and assisted in lengthening the charming row formed by her sisters. Mr. +Bettifer murmured indicatively, "My sister Elizabeth," and made a note of +what I had granted him, on the manuscript by his side. + +"What lovely weather," I remarked, to change the conversation. + +"Beautiful!" answered five melodious voices. + +The door opened again. + +"Beautiful, indeed!" said a sixth melodious voice. + +"My sister Harriet," said Mr. Bettifer, finishing his note of my +metaphysical admission. + +They all sat in one fascinating row. It was like being at a party. I felt +uncomfortable in my coloured trowsers--more uncomfortable still, when Mr. +Bettifer's sixth sister begged that she might not interrupt our previous +conversation. + +"We are so fond of metaphysical subjects," said Miss Elizabeth. + +"Except that we think them rather exhausting for dear Alfred," said Miss +Jane. + +"Dear Alfred!" repeated the Misses Emily, Maria, and Kitty, in mellifluous +chorus. + +Not having a heart of stone, I was so profoundly touched, that I would +have tried to resume the subject. But, Mr. Bettifer waved his hand +impatiently, and declared that my admission had increased the difficulties +of the original question until they had become quite insuperable. I had, +it appeared, innocently driven him to the conclusion, that our present +self was not our yesterday's self, but another self mistaken for it, +which, in its turn, had no connection with the self of to-morrow. As this +certainly sounded rather unsatisfactory, I agreed with Mr. Bettifer that +we had exhausted that particular view of the subject, and that we had +better defer starting another until a future opportunity. An embarrassing +pause followed our renunciation of metaphysics for the day. Miss Elizabeth +broke the silence by asking me if I was fond of pictures; and before I +could say Yes, Miss Harriet followed her by asking me if I was fond of +music. + +"Will you show your picture, dear?" said Miss Elizabeth to Miss Harriet. + +"Will you sing, dear?" said Miss Harriet to Miss Elizabeth. + +"Do, dear!" said the Misses Jane and Emily to Miss Elizabeth. + +"Do, dear!" said the Misses Maria and Kitty to Miss Harriet. + +There was an artless symmetry and balance of affection in all that these +six sensitive creatures said and did. The fair Elizabeth was followed to +the end of the room where the piano was, by Jane and Emily. The lovely +Harriet was attended in the direction of the easel by Maria and Kitty. I +went to see the picture first. + +The scene was the bottom of the sea; and the subject, A Forsaken Mermaid. +The unsentimental, or fishy lower half of the sea nymph was dexterously +hidden in a coral grove before which she was sitting, in an atmosphere +of limpid blue water. She had beautiful long green hair, and was shedding +those solid tears which we always see in pictures and never in real life. +Groups of pet fishes circled around her with their eyes fixed mournfully +on their forlorn mistress. A line at the top of the picture, and a strip +of blue above it, represented the surface of the ocean, and the sky; +the monotony of this part of the composition being artfully broken by a +receding golden galley with a purple sail, containing the fickle fisher +youth who had forsaken the mermaid. I had hardly had time to say what +a beautiful picture it was, before Miss Maria put her handkerchief to +her eyes, and, overcome by the pathetic nature of the scene portrayed, +hurriedly left the room. Miss Kitty followed, to attend on and console +her; and Miss Harriet, after covering up her picture with a sigh, followed +to assist Miss Kitty. I began to doubt whether I ought not to have +gone out next, to support all three; but Mr. Bettifer, who had hitherto +remained in the background, lost in metaphysical speculation, came forward +to remind me that the music was waiting to claim my admiration next. + +"Excuse their excessive sensibility," he said. "I have done my best to +harden them and make them worldly; but it is not of the slightest use. +Will you come to the piano?" + +Miss Elizabeth began to sing immediately, with the attendant sylphs, Jane +and Emily, on either side of her, to turn over the music. + +The song was a ballad composition--music and words by the lovely singer +herself. A lady was dreaming in an ancient castle; a dog was howling in a +ruined courtyard; an owl was hooting in a neighbouring forest; a tyrant +was striding in an echoing hall; and a page was singing among moonlit +flowers. First five verses. Pause--and mournful symphony on the piano, +in the minor key. Ballad resumed:--The lady wakes with a scream. The +tyrant loads his arquebus. The faithful page, hearing the scream among +the moonlit flowers, advances to the castle. The dog gives a warning +bark. The tyrant fires a chance shot in the darkness. The page welters +in his blood. The lady dies of a broken heart. Miss Jane is so affected +by the catastrophe that Miss Emily is obliged to lead her from the room; +and Miss Elizabeth is so anxious about them both as to be forced to shut +up the piano, and hasten after them with a smelling-bottle in her hand. +Conclusion of the performance; and final exit of the six Miss Bettifers. + +Tell yourselves off, my fortunate young bachelor friends, to the +corresponding number of half-a-dozen, with your offers ready on your +tongues, and your hearts thrown open to tender investigation, while +favourable circumstances yet give you a chance. My boys, my eager boys, +do you want pale cheeks, limpid eyes, swan-like necks, low waists, tall +forms, and no money? You do--I know you do. Go then, enviable youths!--go +tenderly--go immediately--go by sixes at a time, and try your luck with +the Miss Bettifers! + + * * * * * + +Let me now appeal to other, and possibly to fewer tastes, by trying a +sample of a new kind. It shall be something neither soft, yielding, nor +hysterical this time. You who agree with the poet that + + Discourse may want an animated No, + To brush the surface and to make it flow-- + +you who like girls to have opinions of their own, and to play their parts +spiritedly in the give and take of conversation, do me the favour to +approach, and permit me to introduce you to the three Miss Cruttwells. At +the same time, gentlemen, I must inform you, with my usual candour, that +these Spinsters are short, sharp, and, on occasion, shrill. You must have +a talent for arguing, and a knack at instantaneous definition, or you will +find the Miss Cruttwells too much for you, and had better wait for my next +sample. And yet for a certain peculiar class of customer, these are really +very choice spinsters. For instance, any unmarried legal gentleman, who +would like to have his wits kept sharp for his profession, by constant +disputation, could not do better than address himself (as logically as +possible) to one of the Miss Cruttwells. Perhaps my legal bachelor will +be so obliging as to accompany me on a morning call? + +It is a fine spring day, with a light air and plenty of round white clouds +flying over the blue sky, when we pay our visit. We find the three young +ladies in the morning room. Miss Martha Cruttwell is fond of statistical +subjects, and is annotating a pamphlet. Miss Barbara Cruttwell likes +geology, and is filling a cabinet with ticketed bits of stone. Miss +Charlotte Cruttwell has a manly taste for dogs, and is nursing two fat +puppies on her lap. All three have florid complexions; all three have +a habit of winking both eyes incessantly, and a way of wearing their +hair very tight, and very far off their faces. All three acknowledge my +young legal friend's bow in--what may seem to him--a very short, sharp +manner; and modestly refrain from helping him by saying a word to begin +the conversation. He is, perhaps, unreasonably disconcerted by this, and +therefore starts the talk weakly by saying that it is a fine day. + +"Fine!" exclaims Miss Martha, with a look of amazement at her sister. +"Fine!" with a stare of perplexity at my young legal friend. "Dear me! +what do you mean, now, by a fine day?" + +"We were just saying how cold it was," says Miss Barbara. + +"And how very like rain," says Miss Charlotte, with a look at the white +clouds outside, which happen to be obscuring the sun for a few minutes. + +"But what do you mean, now, by a fine day?" persists Miss Martha. + +My young legal friend is put on his mettle by this time, and answers with +professional readiness: + +"At this uncertain spring season, my definition of a fine day, is a day +on which you do not feel the want of your great-coat, your goloshes, or +your umbrella." + +"Oh, no," says Miss Martha, "surely not! At least, that does not appear +to me to be at all a definition of a fine day. Barbara? Charlotte?" + +"We think it quite impossible to call a day--when the sun is not +shining--a fine day," says Miss Barbara. + +"We think that when clouds are in the sky there is always a chance +of rain; and, when there is a chance of rain, we think it is very +extraordinary to say that it is a fine day," adds Miss Charlotte. + +My legal bachelor starts another topic, and finds his faculty for +impromptu definition exercised by the three Miss Cruttwells, always +in the same briskly-disputatious manner. He goes away--as I hope and +trust--thinking what an excellent lawyer's wife any one of the three +young ladies would make. If he could only be present in the spirit, after +leaving the abode of the Miss Cruttwells in the body, his admiration of +my three disputatious spinsters would, I think, be greatly increased. He +would find that, though they could all agree to a miracle in differing +with him while he was present, they would begin to vary in opinion, the +moment their visitor's subjects of conversation were referred to in his +absence. He would, probably, for example, hear them take up the topic of +the weather again, the instant the house-door had closed after him, in +these terms: + +"Do you know," he might hear Miss Martha say, "I am not so sure after all, +Charlotte, that you were right in saying that it could not be a fine day, +because there were clouds in the sky?" + +"You only say that," Miss Charlotte would be sure to reply, "because the +sun happens to be peeping out, just now, for a minute or two. If it rains +in half-an-hour, which is more than likely, who would be right then?" + +"On reflection," Miss Barbara might remark next, "I don't agree with +either of you, and I also dispute the opinion of the gentleman who has +just left us. It is neither a fine day, nor a bad day." + +"But it must be one or the other." + +"No, it needn't. It may be an indifferent day." + +"What do you mean by an indifferent day?" + +So they go on, these clever girls of mine, these mistresses in the art of +fencing applied to the tongue. I have not presented this sample from my +collection, as one which is likely to suit any great number. But, there +are peculiarly constituted bachelors in this world; and I like to be able +to show that my assortment of spinsters is various enough to warrant me +in addressing even the most alarming eccentricities of taste. Will nobody +offer for this disputatious sample--not even for the dog-fancying Miss +Charlotte, with the two fat puppies thrown in? No? Take away the Miss +Cruttwells, and let us try what we can do, thirdly and lastly, with the +Miss Duckseys produced in their place. + +I confidently anticipate a brisk competition and a ready market for the +spinsters now about to be submitted to inspection. You have already had a +sentimental sample, gentlemen, and a disputatious sample. In now offering +a domestic sample, I have but one regret, which is, that my spinsters +on the present occasion are unhappily limited to two in number. I wish +I had a dozen to produce of the same interesting texture and the same +unimpeachable quality. + +The whole world, gentlemen, at the present writing, means, in the +estimation of the two Miss Duckseys, papa, mamma, and brother George. This +loving sample can be warranted never yet to have looked beyond the sacred +precincts of the family circle. All their innocent powers of admiration +and appreciation have been hitherto limited within the boundaries of home. +If Miss Violet Ducksey wants to see a lovely girl, she looks at Miss Rose +Ducksey, and vice versâ; if both want to behold manly dignity, matronly +sweetness, and youthful beauty, both look immediately at papa, mamma, and +brother George. I have been admitted into the unparalleled family circle, +of which I now speak. I have seen--to say nothing, for the present, of +papa and mamma--I have seen brother George come in from business, and sit +down by the fireside, and be welcomed by Miss Violet and Miss Rose, as +if he had just returned, after having been reported dead, from the other +end of the world. I have seen those two devoted sisters race across the +room, in fond contention which should sit first on brother George's knee. +I have even seen both sit upon him together, each taking a knee, when +he has been half-an-hour later than usual at the office. I have never +beheld their lovely arms tired of clasping brother George's neck, never +heard their rosy lips cease kissing brother George's cheeks, except when +they were otherwise occupied for the moment in calling him "Dear!" On the +word of honour of a harmless spinster-fancying old man, I declare that I +have seen brother George fondled to such an extent by his sisters that, +although a lusty and long-suffering youth, he has fallen asleep under +it from sheer exhaustion. Even then, I have observed Miss Rose and Miss +Violet contending (in each other's arms) which should have the privilege +of casting her handkerchief over his face. And that touching contest +concluded, I have quitted the house at a late hour, leaving Violet on +papa's bosom, and Rose entwined round mamma's waist. Beautiful! beautiful! + +Am I exaggerating? Go, and judge for yourselves, my bachelor friends. Go, +if you like, and meet my domestic sample at a ball. + +My bachelor is introduced to Miss Violet, and takes his place with her +in a quadrille. He begins a lively conversation, and finds her attention +wandering. She has not heard a word that he has been saying, and she +interrupts him in the middle of a sentence with a question which has not +the slightest relation to anything that he has hitherto offered by way of +a remark. + +"Have you ever met my sister Rose before?" + +"No, I have not had the honour--" + +"She is standing there, at the other end, in a blue dress. Now, do tell +me, does she not look charming?" + +My bachelor makes the necessary answer, and goes on to another subject. +Miss Violet's attention wanders again, and she asks another abrupt +question. + +"What did you think of mamma, when you were introduced to her?" + +My bachelor friend makes another necessary answer. Miss Violet, without +appearing to be at all impressed by it, looks into the distance in search +of her maternal parent, and then addresses her partner again: + +"It is not a pleasant thing for young people to confess," she says, +with the most artless candour, "but I really do think that mamma is the +handsomest woman in the room. There she is, taking an ice, next to the old +lady with the diamonds. Is she not beautiful? Do you know, when we were +dressing to-night, Rose and I begged and prayed her not to wear a cap. +We said, 'Don't, mamma; please don't. Put it off for another year.' And +mamma said, in her sweet way, 'Nonsense, my loves! I am an old woman. You +must accustom yourselves to that idea, and you must let me wear a cap; +you must, darlings, indeed.' And we said--what do you think we said?" + +(Another necessary answer.) + +"We said, 'You are studying papa's feelings, dear--you are afraid of being +taken for our youngest sister if you go in your hair,--and it is on papa's +account that you wear a cap. Sly mamma!'--Have you been introduced to +papa?" + +Later in the evening my bachelor friend is presented to Miss Rose. He asks +for the honour of dancing with her. She inquires if it is for the waltz, +and hearing that it is, draws back and curtsies apologetically. + +"Thank you, I must keep the waltz for my brother George. My sister and I +always keep waltzes for our brother George." + +My bachelor draws back. The dance proceeds. He hears a soft voice behind +him. It is Miss Violet who is speaking. + +"You are a judge of waltzing?" she says, in tones of the gentlest +insinuation. "Do pray look at George and Rose. No, thank you: I never +dance when George and Rose are waltzing. It is a much greater treat to me +to look on. I always look on. I do, indeed." + +Perhaps my bachelor does not frequent balls. It is of no consequence. Let +him be a diner-out; let him meet my domestic sample at the social board; +and he will only witness fresh instances of that all-absorbing interest +in each other, which is the remarkable peculiarity of the whole Ducksey +family, and of the young ladies in particular. He will find them admiring +one another with the same touching and demonstrative affection over the +dishes on the dinner-table, as amid the mazes of the dance. He will hear +from the venerable Mr. Ducksey that George never gave him a moment's +uneasiness from the hour of his birth. He will hear from Mrs. Ducksey +that her one regret in this life is, that she can never be thankful +enough for her daughters. And (to return to the young ladies, who are +the main objects of these remarks), he will find, by some such fragments +of dialogue as the following, that no general subjects of conversation +whatever have the power of alluring the minds of the two Miss Duckseys +from the contemplation of their own domestic interests, and the faithful +remembrance of their own particular friends. + +It is the interval, let us say, between the removal of the fish and the +appearance of the meat. The most brilliant man in the company has been +talking with great sprightliness and effect; has paused for a moment to +collect his ideas before telling one of the good stories for which he is +famous; and is just ready to begin--when Miss Rose stops him and silences +all her neighbours by anxiously addressing her sister, who sits opposite +to her at the table. + +"Violet, dear." + +"Yes, dear." + +(Profound silence follows. The next course fails to make its appearance. +Nobody wanting to take any wine. The brilliant guest sits back in his +chair, dogged and speechless. The host and hostess look at each other +nervously. Miss Rose goes on with the happy artlessness of a child, as if +nobody but her sister was present.) + +"Do you know I have made up my mind what I shall give mamma's Susan when +she is married?" + +"Not a silk dress? That's my present." + +"What do you think, dear, of a locket with our hair in it?" + +"Sweet." + +(The silence of the tomb falls on the dinner-table. The host and hostess +begin to get angry. The guests look at each other. The second course +persists in not coming in. The brilliant guest suffers from a dry cough. +Miss Violet, in her turn, addresses Miss Rose across the table.) + +"Rose, I met Ellen Davis to-day." + +"Has she heard from Clara?" + +"Yes; Clara's uncle and aunt won't let her come." + +"Tiresome people! Did you go on to Brompton? Did you see Jane? Is Jane to +be depended on?" + +"If Jane's cold gets better, she and that odious cousin of hers are sure +to come. Uncle Frank, of course, makes his usual excuse." + +So the simple-hearted sisters prattle on in public; so do they carry +their own innocent affections and interests about with them into the +society they adorn; so do they cast the extinguishing sunshine of their +young hearts over the temporary flashes of worldly merriment, and the +short-lived blaze of dinner eloquence. Without another word of preliminary +recommendation, I confidently submit the Miss Duckseys to brisk public +competition. I can promise the two fortunate youths who may woo and win +them, plenty of difficulties in weaning their affections from the family +hearth, with showers of tears and poignant bursts of anguish on the +wedding day. All properly-constituted bridegrooms feel, as I have been +given to understand, inexpressibly comforted and encouraged by a display +of violent grief on the part of the bride when she is starting on her +wedding tour. And, besides, in the particular case of the Miss Duckseys, +there would always be the special resource of taking brother George into +the carriage, as a sure palliative, during the first few stages of the +honeymoon trip. + + + + +DRAMATIC GRUB STREET.[D] + +EXPLORED IN TWO LETTERS. + + +LETTER THE FIRST. FROM MR. READER TO MR. AUTHOR. + +MY DEAR SIR,--I am sufficiently well-educated, and sufficiently refined +in my tastes and habits, to be a member of the large class of persons +usually honoured by literary courtesy with the title of the Intelligent +Public. In the interests of the order to which I belong, I have a little +complaint to make against the managers of our theatres, and a question to +put afterwards, which you, as a literary man, will, I have no doubt, be +both able and willing to answer. + +Like many thousands of other people, I am fond of reading and fond of +going to the theatre. In regard to my reading, I have no complaint +to make--for the press supplies me abundantly with English poems, +histories, biographies, novels, essays, travels, criticisms, all of modern +production. But, in regard to going to the theatre, I write with something +like a sense of injury--for nobody supplies me with a good play. There +is living literature of a genuine sort in the English libraries of the +present time. Why (I beg to inquire) is there no living literature of a +genuine sort in the English theatre of the present time, also? + +Say, I am a Frenchman, fond of the imaginative literature of my country, +well-read in all the best specimens of it,--I mean, best in a literary +point of view, for I am not touching moral questions now. When I shut up +Balzac, Victor Hugo, Dumas, and Soulié, and go to the theatre--what do I +find? Balzac, Victor Hugo, Dumas, and Soulié again. The men who have been +interesting me in my arm-chair, interesting me once more in my stall. +The men who can really invent and observe for the reader, inventing and +observing for the spectator also. What is the necessary consequence? The +literary standard of the stage is raised; and the dramatist by profession +must be as clever a man, in his way, as good an inventor, as correct a +writer, as the novelist. And what, in my case, follows that consequence? +Clearly this: the managers of theatres get my money at night, as the +publishers of books get it in the day. + +Do the managers get my money from me in England? By no manner of means. +For they hardly ever condescend to address me. + +I get up from reading the best works of our best living writers, and go +to the theatre, here. What do I see? The play that I have seen before +in Paris. This may do very well for my servant, who does not understand +French, or for my tradesman, who has never had time to go to Paris,--but +it is only showing _me_ an old figure in a foreign dress, which does +not become it like its native costume. But, perhaps, our dramatic +entertainment is not a play adapted from the French Drama. Perhaps, it +is something English--a Burlesque. Delightful, I have no doubt, to a fast +young farmer from the country, or to a convivial lawyer's clerk, who has +never read anything but a newspaper in his life. But is it satisfactory +to _me_? It is, if I want to go and see the Drama satirised. But I go to +enjoy a new play--and I am rewarded by seeing all my favourite ideas and +characters in some old play, ridiculed. This, like the adapted drama, is +the sort of entertainment I do _not_ want. + +I read at home many original stories, by many original authors, that +delight me. I go to the theatre, and naturally want original stories by +original authors, which will also delight me there. Do I get what I ask +for? Yes, if I want to see an old play over again. But, if I want a new +play? Why, _then_ I must have the French adaptation, or the Burlesque. +The publisher can understand that there are people among his customers +who possess cultivated tastes, and can cater for them accordingly, when +they ask for something new. The manager, in the same case, recognises +no difference between me and my servant. My footman goes to see the +play-actors, and cares very little what they perform in. If my taste is +not his taste, we may part at the theatre door,--he goes in, and I go +home. It may be said, Why is my footman's taste not to be provided for? +By way of answering that question, I will ask another:--Why is my footman +not to have the chance of improving his taste, and making it as good as +mine? + +The case between the two countries seems to stand thus, then:--In France, +the most eminent imaginative writers work, as a matter of course, for +the stage, as well as for the library table. In England, the most eminent +imaginative writers work for the library table alone. What is the reason +of this? To what do you attribute the present shameful dearth of stage +literature? To the dearth of good actors?--or, if not to that, to what +other cause? + +Of one thing I am certain, that there is no want of a large and a ready +audience for original English plays, possessing genuine dramatic merit, +and appealing, as forcibly as our best novels do, to the tastes, the +interests, and the sympathies of our own time. You, who have had some +experience of society, know as well as I do, that there is in this country +a very large class of persons whose minds are stiffened by no Puritanical +scruples, whose circumstances in the world are easy, whose time is at +their own disposal, who are the very people to make a good audience and a +paying audience at a theatre, and who yet, hardly ever darken theatrical +doors more than two or three times in a year. You know this; and you know +also that the systematic neglect of the theatre in these people, has been +forced on them, in the first instance, by the shock inflicted on their +good sense by nine-tenths of the so-called new entertainments which are +offered to them. I am not speaking now of gorgeous scenic revivals of old +plays--for which I have a great respect, because they offer to sensible +people the only decent substitute for genuine dramatic novelty to be met +with at the present time. I am referring to the "new entertainments" +which are, in the vast majority of cases, second-hand entertainments +to every man in the theatre who is familiar with the French writers--or +insufferably coarse entertainments to every man who has elevated his taste +by making himself acquainted with the best modern literature of his own +land. Let my servant, let my small tradesman, let the fast young farmers +and lawyers' clerks, be all catered for! But surely, if they have their +theatre, I, and my large class, ought to have our theatre too? The fast +young farmer has his dramatists, just as he has his novelists in the penny +journals. We, on our side, have got our great novelists (whose works the +fast young farmer does not read)--why, I ask again, are we not to have +our great dramatists as well? + +With high esteem, yours, my dear Sir, + + A. READER. + + +LETTER THE SECOND. FROM MR. AUTHOR TO MR. READER. + +MY DEAR SIR,--I thoroughly understand your complaint, and I think I can +answer your question. My reply will probably a little astonish you--for I +mean to speak the plain truth boldly. The public ought to know the real +state of the case, as regards the present position of the English stage +towards English Literature, for the public alone can work the needful +reform. + +You ask, if I attribute the present dearth of stage literature to the +dearth of good actors? I reply to that in the negative. When the good +literature comes, the good actors will come also, where they are wanted. +In many branches of the theatrical art they are not wanted. We have as +good living actors among us now as ever trod the stage. And we should have +more if dramatic literature called for more. It is literature that makes +the actor--not the actor who makes literature. I could name men to you, +now on the stage, whose advance in their profession they owe entirely to +the rare opportunities, which the occasional appearance of a genuinely +good play has afforded to them, of stepping out--men whose sense of the +picturesque and the natural in their art, lay dormant, until the pen of +the writer woke it into action. Show me a school of dramatists, and I +will show you a school of actors soon afterwards--as surely as the effect +follows the cause. + +You have spoken of France. I will now speak of France also; for the +literary comparison with our neighbours is as applicable to the main point +of my letter as it was to the main point of yours. + +Suppose me to be a French novelist. If I am a successful man, my work has +a certain market value at the publisher's. So far my case is the same if +I am an English novelist--but there the analogy stops. In France, the +manager of the theatre can compete with the publisher for the purchase +of any new idea that I have to sell. In France, the market value of my +new play is as high, or higher, than the market value of my new novel. +Remember, I am not now writing of French theatres which have assistance +from the Government, but of French theatres which depend, as our theatres +do, entirely on the public. Any one of those theatres will give me +as much, I repeat, for the toil of my brains, on their behalf, as the +publisher will give for the toil of my brains on his. Now, so far is this +from being the case in England, that it is a fact perfectly well known to +every literary man in the country, that, while the remuneration for every +other species of literature has enormously increased in the last hundred +years, the remuneration for dramatic writing has steadily decreased, to +such a minimum of pecuniary recognition as to make it impossible for a +man who lives by the successful use of his pen, as a writer of books, to +alter the nature of his literary practice, and live, or nearly live, in +comfortable circumstances, by the use of his pen, as a writer of plays. It +is time that this fact was generally known, to justify successful living +authors for their apparent neglect of one of the highest branches of their +Art. I tell you, in plain terms, that I could only write a play for the +English stage--a successful play, mind--by consenting to what would be, +in my case, and in the cases of all my successful brethren, a serious +pecuniary sacrifice. + +Let me make the meanness of the remuneration for stage-writing in our +day, as compared with what that remuneration was in past times, clear to +your mind by one or two examples. Rather more than a hundred years ago, +Doctor Johnson wrote a very bad play called Irene, which proved a total +failure on representation, and which tottered, rather than "ran," for +just nine nights, to wretched houses. Excluding his literary copyright +of a hundred pounds, the Doctor's dramatic profit on a play that was a +failure--remember that!--amounted to one hundred and ninety-five pounds, +being just forty-five pounds _more_ than the remuneration now paid, to +my certain knowledge, for many a play within the last five years, which +has had a successful run of sixty, and, in some cases, even of a hundred +nights! + +I can imagine your amazement at reading this--but I can also assure you +that any higher rate of remuneration is exceptional. Let me, however, give +the managers the benefit of the exception. Sometimes two hundred pounds +have been paid, within the last five years, for a play; and, on one or +two rare occasions, three hundred. If Shakspere came to life again, and +took Macbeth to an English theatre, in this year, eighteen hundred and +sixty-three, that is the highest market remuneration he could get for it. +You are to understand that this miserable decline in the money-reward held +out to dramatic literature is peculiar to our own day. Without going back +again so long as a century--without going back farther than the time of +George Colman, the younger--I may remind you that the Comedy of John Bull +brought the author twelve hundred pounds. Since then, six or seven hundred +pounds have been paid for a new play; and, later yet, five hundred pounds. +We have now dropped to three hundred pounds, as the exception, and to +one hundred and fifty, as the rule. I am speaking, remember, of plays in +not less than three acts, which are, or are supposed to be, original--of +plays which run from sixty to a hundred nights, and which put their bread +(buttered thickly on both sides) into the mouths of actors and managers. +As to the remuneration for ordinary translations from the French, I would +rather not mention what that is. And, indeed, there is no need I should +do so. We are talking of the stage in its present relation to English +literature. Suppose I wrote for it, as some of my friends suggest I +should; and suppose I could produce one thoroughly original play, with a +story of my own sole invention, with characters of my own sole creation, +every year. The utmost annual income the English stage would, at present +prices, pay me, after exhausting my brains in its service, would be three +hundred pounds! + +I use the expression "exhausting my brains," advisedly. For a man who +produces a new work, every year, which has any real value and completeness +as a work of literary art, does, let him be who he may, for a time, +exhaust his brain by the process, and leave it sorely in need of an +after-period of absolute repose. Three hundred a-year, therefore, is the +utmost that a fertile original author can expect to get by the English +stage, at present market-rates of remuneration. + +Such is now the position of the dramatic writer--a special man, with a +special faculty. What is now the position of the dramatic performer, when +he happens to be a special man, with a special faculty also? Is his income +three hundred a-year? Is his manager's income three hundred a-year? The +popular actors of the time when Colman got his twelve hundred pounds would +be struck dumb with amazement, if they saw what salaries their successors +are getting now. If stage remuneration has decreased sordidly in our time +for authorship, it has increased splendidly for actorship. When a manager +tells me now that his theatre cannot afford to pay me as much for my idea +in the form of a play, as the publisher can afford to pay me for it in +the form of a novel--he really means that he and his actors take a great +deal more now from the nightly receipts of the theatres than they ever +thought of taking in the time of John Bull. When the actors' profits from +the theatre are largely increased, somebody else's profits from the same +theatre must be decreased. That somebody else is the dramatic author. +There you have the real secret of the mean rate at which the English stage +now estimates the assistance of English Literature. + +There are persons whose interest it may be to deny this; and who will +deny it. It is not a question of assertion or denial, but a question +of figures. How much per week did a popular actor get in Colman's time? +How much per week does a popular actor get now? The biographies of dead +players will answer the first question. And the managers' books, for +the past ten or fifteen years, will answer the second. I must not give +offence by comparisons between living and dead men--I must not enter +into details, because they would lead me too near to the private affairs +of other people. But I tell you again, that the remuneration for acting +has immensely increased, and the remuneration for dramatic writing has +immensely decreased, in our time; and I am not afraid of having that +assertion contradicted by proofs. + +It is useless to attempt a defence of the present system by telling me +that a different plan of remunerating the dramatic author was adopted in +former times, and that a different plan is also practised on the French +stage. I am not discussing which plan is best, or which plan is worst. I +am only dealing with the plain fact, that the present stage-estimate of +the author is barbarously low--an estimate which men who had any value for +literature, any idea of its importance, any artist-like sympathy with its +great difficulties, and its great achievements, would be ashamed to make. +I prove that fact by reference to the proceedings of a better past time, +and by a plain appeal to the market-value of all kinds of literature, +off the stage, at the present time; and I leave the means of effecting a +reform to those who are bound in common honour and common justice to make +the reform. It is not my business to re-adjust the commercial machinery +of theatres; I don't sit in the treasury, and handle the strings of the +moneybags. I say that the present system is a base one towards literature, +and that the history of the past, and the experience of the present, prove +it to be so. All the reasoning in the world which tries to convince us +that a wrong is necessary, will not succeed in proving that wrong to be +right. + +Having now established the existence of the abuse, it is easy enough to +get on to the consequences that have arisen from it. At the present low +rate of remuneration, a man of ability wastes his powers if he writes for +the stage--unless he is prepared to put himself out of the category of +authors, by turning manager and actor, and taking a theatre for himself. +There are men still in existence, who occasionally write for the stage, +for the love and honour of their Art. Once, perhaps, in two or three +years, one of these devoted men will try single-handed to dissipate the +dense dramatic fog that hangs over the theatre and the audience. For +the brief allotted space of time, the one toiling hand lets in a little +light, unthanked by the actors, unaided by the critics, unnoticed by +the audience. The time expires--the fog gathers back--the toiling hand +disappears. Sometimes it returns once more bravely to the hard, hopeless +work: and out of all the hundreds whom it has tried to enlighten, there +shall not be one who is grateful enough to know it again. + +These exceptional men--too few, too scattered, too personally unimportant +in the republic of letters, to have any strong or lasting influence--are +not the professed dramatists of our times. These are not the writers +who make so much as a clerk's income out of the stage. The few men of +practical ability who now write for the English Theatre, are men of the +world, who know that they are throwing away their talents if they take +the trouble to invent, for an average remuneration of one hundred and +fifty pounds. The well-paid Frenchman supplies them with a story and +characters ready made. The Original Adaptation is rattled off in a week: +and the dramatic author beats the clerk after all, by getting so much +more money for so much less manual exercise in the shape of writing. +Below this clever tactician, who foils the theatre with its own weapons, +come the rank-and-file of hack-writers, who work still more cheaply, and +give still less (I am rejoiced to say) for the money. The stage results +of this sort of authorship, as you have already implied, virtually drive +the intelligent classes out of the theatre. Half a century since, the +prosperity of the manager's treasury would have suffered in consequence. +But the increase of wealth and population, and the railway connection +between London and the country, more than supply in quantity what +audiences have lost in quality. Not only does the manager lose nothing in +the way of profit--he absolutely gains by getting a vast nightly majority +into his theatre, whose ignorant insensibility nothing can shock. Let him +cast what garbage he pleases before them, the unquestioning mouths of his +audience open, and snap at it. I am sorry and ashamed to write in this way +of any assemblage of my own countrymen; but a large experience of theatres +forces me to confess that I am writing the truth. If you want to find +out who the people are who know nothing whatever, even by hearsay, of the +progress of the literature of their own time--who have caught no chance +vestige of any one of the ideas which are floating about before their +very eyes--who are, to all social intents and purposes, as far behind the +age they live in, as any people out of a lunatic asylum can be--go to a +theatre, and be very careful, in doing so, to pick out the most popular +performance of the day. The actors themselves, when they are men of any +intelligence, are thoroughly aware of the utter incapacity of the tribunal +which is supposed to judge them. Not very long ago, an actor, standing +deservedly in the front rank of his profession, happened to play even more +admirably than usual in a certain new part. Meeting him soon afterwards, +I offered him my mite of praise in all sincerity. "Yes," was his reply. +"I know that I act my very best in that part, for I hardly get a hand of +applause in it through the whole evening." Such is the condition to which +the dearth of good literature has now reduced the audiences of English +theatres--even in the estimation of the men who act before them. + +And what is to remedy this? Nothing can remedy it but a change for the +better in the audiences. + +I have good hope that this change is slowly, very slowly, beginning. "When +things are at the worst they are sure to mend." I really think that, in +dramatic matters, they have been at the worst; and I have therefore some +belief that the next turn of Fortune's wheel may be in our favour. In +certain theatres, I fancy I notice already symptoms of a slight additional +sprinkling of intelligence among the audiences. If I am right; if this +sprinkling increases; if the few people who have brains in their heads +will express themselves boldly; if those who are fit to lead the opinion +of their neighbours will resolutely make the attempt to lead it, instead +of indolently wrapping themselves up in their own contempt--then there +may be a creditable dramatic future yet in store for the countrymen of +Shakspere. Perhaps we may yet live to see the day when managers will be +forced to seek out the writers who are really setting their mark on the +literature of the age--when "starvation prices" shall have given place to +a fair remuneration--and when the prompter shall have his share with the +publisher in the best work that can be done for him by the best writers +of the time. + +Meanwhile, there is a large audience of intelligent people, with plenty +of money in their pockets, waiting for a theatre to go to. Supposing +that such an amazing moral portent should ever appear in the English +firmament, as a theatrical speculator who can actually claim some slight +acquaintance with contemporary literature; and supposing that unparalleled +man to be smitten with a sudden desire to ascertain what the circulation +actually is of serial publications and successful novels which address +the educated classes; I think I may safely predict the consequences that +would follow, as soon as our ideal manager had received his information +and recovered from his astonishment. London would be startled, one fine +morning, by finding a new theatre opened. Names that are now well known +on title-pages only, would then appear on play-bills also; and tens of +thousands of readers, who now pass the theatre-door with indifference, +would be turned into tens of thousands of play-goers also. What a cry of +astonishment would be heard thereupon in the remotest fastnesses of old +theatrical London! "Merciful Heaven! There is a large public, after all, +for well-paid original plays, as well as for well-paid original books. +And a man has turned up, at last, of our own managerial order, who has +absolutely found it out!" + +With true regard, yours, my dear Sir, + + A. N. AUTHOR. + + + + +TO THINK, OR BE THOUGHT FOR? + + +If anything I can say here, on the subject of the painter's Art, will +encourage intelligent people of any rank to turn a deaf ear to all that +critics, connoisseurs, lecturers, and compilers of guide-books can tell +them; to trust entirely to their own common sense when they are looking +at pictures; and to express their opinions boldly, without the slightest +reference to any precedents whatever--I shall have exactly achieved the +object with which I now apply myself to the writing of this paper. + +Let me first ask, in regard to pictures in general, what it is that +prevents the public from judging for themselves, and why the influence +of Art in England is still limited to select circles,--still unfelt, as +the phrase is, by all but the cultivated classes? Why do people want to +look at their guide-books, before they can make up their minds about +an old picture? Why do they ask connoisseurs and professional friends +for a marked catalogue, before they venture inside the walls of the +exhibition-rooms in Trafalgar Square? Why, when they are, for the most +part, always ready to tell each other unreservedly what books they like, +or what musical compositions are favourites with them, do they hesitate +the moment pictures turn up as a topic of conversation, and intrench +themselves doubtfully behind such cautious phrases, as, "I don't pretend +to understand the subject,"--"I believe such and such a picture is much +admired,"--"I am no judge," and so on? + +No judge! Does a really good picture want you to be a judge? Does it want +you to have anything but eyes in your head, and the undisturbed possession +of your senses? Is there any other branch of intellectual art which has +such a direct appeal, by the very nature of it, to every sane human being +as the art of painting? There it is, able to represent through a medium +which offers itself to you palpably, in the shape of so many visible feet +of canvass, actual human facts, and distinct aspects of Nature, which +poetry can only describe, and which music can but obscurely hint at. The +Art which can do this--and which has done it over and over again both +in past and present times--is surely of all arts that one which least +requires a course of critical training, before it can be approached on +familiar terms. Whenever I see an intelligent man, which I often do, +standing before a really eloquent and true picture, and asking his marked +catalogue, or his newspaper, or his guide-book, whether he may safely +admire it or not--I think of a man standing winking both eyes in the +full glare of a cloudless August noon, and inquiring deferentially of an +astronomical friend whether he is really justified in saying that the sun +shines! + +But, we have not yet fairly got at the main obstacle which hinders the +public from judging of pictures for themselves, and which, by a natural +consequence, limits the influence of Art on the nation generally. For my +own part, I have long thought, and shall always continue to believe, that +this same obstacle is nothing more or less than the Conceit of Criticism, +which has got obstructively between Art and the people,--which has kept +them asunder, and will keep them asunder, until it is fairly pulled out +of the way, and set aside at once and for ever in its proper background +place. + +This is a bold thing to say; but I think I can advance some proofs that +my assertion is not altogether so wild as it may appear at first sight. +By the Conceit of Criticism, I desire to express, in one word, the +conventional laws and formulas, the authoritative rules and regulations +which individual men set up to guide the tastes and influence the opinions +of their fellow-creatures. When Criticism does not speak in too arbitrary +a language, and when the laws it makes are ratified by the consent and +approbation of intelligent people in general, I have as much respect +for it as any one. But, when Criticism sits altogether apart, speaks +opinions that find no answering echo in the general heart, and measures +the greatness of intellectual work by anything rather than by its power +of appealing to all capacities for admiration and enjoyment, from the +very highest to the very humblest,--then, as it seems to me, Criticism +becomes the expression of individual conceit, and forfeits all claim to +consideration and respect. From that moment, it is Obstructive--for it +has set itself up fatally between the Art of Painting and the honest and +general appreciation of that Art by the People. + +Let me try to make this still clearer by an example. A great deal of +obstructive criticism undoubtedly continues to hang as closely as it can +about Poetry and Music. But there are, nevertheless, stateable instances, +in relation to these two Arts, of the voice of the critic and the voice of +the people being on the same side. The tragedy of Hamlet, for example, is +critically considered to be the masterpiece of dramatic poetry; and the +tragedy of Hamlet is also, according to the testimony of every sort of +manager, the play, of all others, which can be invariably depended on to +fill a theatre with the greatest certainty, act it when and how you will. +Again, in music, the Don Giovanni of Mozart, which is the admiration even +of the direst pedant producible from the ranks of musical connoisseurs, +is also the irresistible popular attraction which is always sure to fill +the pit and gallery at the opera. Here, at any rate, are two instances in +which two great achievements of the past in poetry and music are alike +viewed with admiration by the man who appreciates by instinct, and the +man who appreciates by rule. + +If we apply the same test to the achievements of the past in Painting, +where shall we find a similar instance of genuine concurrence between the +few who are appointed to teach, and the many who are expected to learn? + +I put myself in the position of a man of fair capacity and average +education, who labours under the fatal delusion that he will be helped to +a sincere appreciation of the works of the Old Masters by asking critics +and connoisseurs to form his opinions for him. I am sent to Italy as a +matter of course. A general chorus of learned authorities tells me that +Michael Angelo and Raphael are the two greatest painters that ever lived; +and that the two recognised masterpieces of the highest High Art are the +Last Judgment, in the Sistine Chapel, and the Transfiguration, in the +Vatican picture gallery. It is not only Lanzi and Vasari, and hosts of +later sages running smoothly along the same critical grooves, who give +me this information. Even the greatest of English portrait-painters, Sir +Joshua Reynolds, sings steadily with the critical chorus, note for note. +When experience has made me wiser, I am able to detect clearly enough in +the main principles which Reynolds has adopted in his Lectures on Art, the +reason of his notorious want of success whenever he tried to rise above +portraits to the regions of historical painting. But at the period of my +innocence, I am simply puzzled and amazed, when I come to such a passage +as the following in Sir Joshua's famous Fifth Lecture, where he sums up +the comparative merits of Michael Angelo and Raphael:-- + + "If we put these great artists in a line of comparison with each + other (lectures Sir Joshua), Raphael had more taste and fancy, + Michael Angelo more genius and imagination. The one excelled + in beauty, the other in energy. Michael Angelo had more of the + poetical inspiration; his ideas are vast and sublime; his people + are a superior order of beings; there is nothing about them, + nothing in the air of their actions or their attitudes, or the + style and cast of their limbs or features, that reminds us of + their belonging to our own species." + +Here I get plainly enough at what Sir Joshua considers to be the crowning +excellence of high art. It is one great proof of the poetry and sublimity +of Michael Angelo's pictures that the people represented in them never +remind us of our own species: which seems equivalent to saying that the +representation of a man made in the image of Michael Angelo is a grander +sight than the representation of a man made in the image of God. I am a +little staggered by these principles of criticism; but as all the learned +authorities that I can get at seem to have adopted them, I do my best to +follow the example of my teachers, and set off reverently for Rome to see +the two works of art which my critical masters tell me are the sublimest +pictures that the world has yet beheld. + +I go first to the Sistine Chapel; and, on a great blue-coloured wall at +one end of it, I see painted a confusion of naked, knotty-bodied figures, +sprawling up or tumbling down below a single figure, posted aloft in the +middle, and apparently threatening the rest with his hand. If I ask Lanzi, +or Vasari, or Sir Joshua Reynolds, or the gentleman who has compiled +Murray's Handbook for Central Italy, or any other competent authorities, +what this grotesquely startling piece of painter's work can possibly be, +I am answered that it is actually intended to represent the unimaginably +awful spectacle of the Last Judgment! And I am further informed that, +estimated by the critical tests applied to it by these competent +authorities, the picture is pronounced to be a masterpiece of grandeur and +sublimity. I resolve to look a little closer at this celebrated work, and +to try if I can get at any fair estimate of it by employing such plain, +uncritical tests, as will do for me and for everybody. + +Here is a fresco, which aspires to represent the most impressive of all +Christian subjects; it is painted on the wall of a Christian church, by +a man belonging to a Christian community--what evidences of religious +feeling has it to show me? I look at the lower part of the composition +first, and see--a combination of the orthodox nursery notion of the devil, +with the Heathen idea of the conveyance to the infernal regions, in the +shape of a horned and tailed ferryman giving condemned souls a cast across +a river! Pretty well, I think, to begin with. + +Let me try and discover next what evidences of extraordinary intellectual +ability the picture presents. I look up towards the top now, by way of +a change, and I find Michael Angelo's conception of the entrance of a +martyr into the kingdom of Heaven, displayed before me in the shape of +a flayed man, presenting his own skin, as a sort of credential, to the +hideous figure with the threatening hand--which I will not, even in +writing, identify with the name of Our Saviour. Elsewhere, I see nothing +but unnatural distortion and hopeless confusion; fighting figures, +tearing figures, tumbling figures, kicking figures; and, to crown all, +a caricatured portrait, with a pair of ass's ears, of a certain Messer +Biagio of Sienna, who had the sense and courage, when the Last Judgment +was first shown on completion, to protest against every figure in it being +painted stark-naked! + +I see such things as these, and many more equally preposterous, which it +is not worth while to mention. All other people with eyes in their heads +see them, too. They are actual matters of fact, not debateable matters +of taste. But I am not--on that account--justified, nor is any other +uncritical person justified, in saying a word against the picture. It may +palpably outrage all the religious proprieties of the subject; but, then, +it is full of "fine foreshortening," and therefore we uncritical people +must hold our tongues. It may violate just as plainly all the intellectual +proprieties, counting from the flayed man with his skin in his hand, at +the top, to Messer Biagio of Sienna with his ass's ears, at the bottom; +but, then, it exhibits "masterly anatomical detail," and therefore we +uncritical spectators must hold our tongues. It may strike us forcibly +that, if people are to be painted at all, as in this picture, rising out +of their graves in their own bodies as they lived, it is surely important +(to say nothing of giving them the benefit of the shrouds in which they +were buried) to represent them as having the usual general proportions of +human beings. But Sir Joshua Reynolds interposes critically, and tells us +the figures on the wall and ceiling of the Sistine Chapel are sublime, +because they don't remind us of our own species. Why should they not +remind us of our own species? Because they are prophets, sibyls, and such +like, cries the chorus of critics indignantly. And what then? If I had +been on intimate terms with Jeremiah, or if I had been the ancient king +to whom the sibyl brought the mysterious books, would not my friend in the +one case, and the messenger in the other, have appeared before me bearing +the ordinary proportions and exhibiting the usual appearance of my own +species? Does not Sacred History inform me that the prophet was a Man, and +does not Profane History describe the sibyl as an Old Woman? Is old age +never venerable and striking in real life?--But I am uttering heresies. I +am mutinously summoning reason and common sense to help me in estimating +an Old Master. This will never do: I had better follow the example of all +the travellers I see about me, by turning away in despair, and leaving +the Last Judgment to the critics and connoisseurs. + +Having thus discovered that one masterpiece of High Art does not address +itself to me, and to the large majority whom I represent, let me go +next to the picture gallery, and see how the second masterpiece (the +Transfiguration, by Raphael) can vindicate its magnificent reputation +among critics and connoisseurs. This picture I approach under the +advantage of knowing, beforehand, that I must make allowances for minor +defects in it, which are recognised by the learned authorities themselves. +I am indeed prepared to be disappointed, at the outset, because I have +been prepared to make allowances: + +First, for defects of colour, which spoil the general effect of the +picture on the spectator; all the lights being lividly tinged with green, +and all the shadows being grimly hardened with black. This mischief is +said to have been worked by the tricks of French cleaners and restorers, +who have so fatally tampered with the whole surface, that Raphael's +original colouring must be given up as lost. Rather a considerable loss, +this, to begin with; but not Raphael's fault. Therefore, let it by no +means depreciate the picture in my estimation. + +Secondly, I have to make allowances for the introduction of two Roman +Catholic Saints (St. Julian and St. Lawrence), represented by the painter +as being actually present at the Transfiguration, in order to please +Cardinal de' Medici, for whom the picture was painted. This _is_ Raphael's +fault. This sets him forth in the rather anomalous character of a great +painter with no respect for his art. I have some doubts about him, after +that,--doubts which my critical friends might possibly share if Raphael +were only a modern painter. + +Thirdly, I have to make allowances for the scene of the Transfiguration +on the high mountain, and the scene of the inability of the disciples +to cure the boy possessed with a devil, being represented, without the +slightest division, one at the top and the other at the bottom of the same +canvass,--both events thus appearing to be connected by happening in the +same place, within view of each other, when we know very well that they +were only connected by happening at the same time. Also, when I see some +of the disciples painted in the act of pointing up to the Transfiguration, +the mountain itself being the background against which they stand, I am to +remember (though the whole of the rest of the picture is most absolutely +and unflinchingly literal in treatment) that here Raphael has suddenly +broken out into allegory, and desires to indicate by the pointing hands +of the disciples that it is the duty of the afflicted to look to Heaven +for relief in their calamities. Having made all these rather important +allowances, I may now look impartially at the upper half of this famous +composition. + +I find myself soon looking away again. It may be that three figures +clothed in gracefully fluttering drapery, and dancing at symmetrically +exact distances from each other in the air, represent such an unearthly +spectacle as the Transfiguration to the satisfaction of great judges of +art. I can also imagine that some few select persons may be able to look +at the top of the high mountain, as represented in the picture, without +feeling their gravity in the smallest degree endangered by seeing that +the ugly knob of ground on which the disciples are lying prostrate, is +barely big enough to hold them, and most certainly would not hold them +if they all moved briskly on it together. These things are matters of +taste, on which I have the misfortune to differ with the connoisseurs. Not +feeling bold enough to venture on defending myself against the masters +who are teaching me to appreciate High Art, I can only look away from +the upper part of the picture, and try if I can derive any useful or +pleasant impressions from the lower half of the composition, in which +no supernatural event is depicted, and which it is therefore perfectly +justifiable to judge by referring it to the standard of dramatic truth, +or, in one word, of Nature. + +As for this portion of the picture, I can hardly believe my eyes when +I first look at it. Excepting the convulsed face of the boy, and a +certain hard eagerness in the look of the man who is holding him, all +the other faces display a stony inexpressiveness, which, when I think of +the great name of Raphael in connection with what I see, fairly amazes +me. I look down incredulously at my guide-book. Yes! there is indeed +the critical authority of Lanzi quoted for my benefit. Lanzi tells me +in plain terms that I behold represented in the picture before me "the +most pathetic story Raphael ever conceived," and refers, in proof of +it, to the "compassion evinced by the apostles." I look attentively +at them all, and behold an assembly of hard-featured, bearded men, +standing, sitting, and gesticulating, in conventional academic attitudes; +their faces not expressing naturally, not even affecting to express +artificially, compassion for the suffering boy, humility at their own +incapability to relieve him, or any other human emotion likely to be +suggested by the situation in which they are placed. I find it still more +dismaying to look next at the figure of a brawny woman, with her back +to the spectator, entreating the help of the apostles theatrically on +one knee, with her insensible classical profile turned in one direction, +and both her muscular arms stretched out in the other; it is still more +dismaying to look at such a figure as this, and then to be gravely +told by Lanzi that I am contemplating "the affliction of a beautiful +and interesting female." I observe, on entering the room in which the +Transfiguration is placed, as I have previously observed on entering +the Sistine Chapel, groups of spectators before the picture consulting +their guide-books--looking attentively at the work of High Art which +they are ordered to admire--trying hard to admire it--then, with dismay +in their faces, looking round at each other, shutting up their books, +and retreating from High Art in despair. I observe these groups for a +little while, and I end in following their example. We members of the +general public may admire Hamlet and Don Giovanni, honestly, along with +the critics, but the two sublimest pictures (according to the learned +authorities) which the world has yet beheld, appeal to none of us; and we +leave them, altogether discouraged on the subject of Art for the future. +From that time forth we look at pictures with a fatal self-distrust. Some +of us recklessly take our opinions from others; some of us cautiously keep +our opinions to ourselves; and some of us indolently abstain from having +anything to do with an opinion at all. + +Is this exaggerated? Have I misrepresented facts in the example I have +quoted of obstructive criticism on Art, and of its discouraging effects +on the public mind? Let the doubting reader, by all means, judge for +himself. Let him refer to any recognised authority he pleases, and he will +find that the two pictures of which I have been writing are critically +and officially considered, to this day, as the two masterworks of the +highest school of painting. Having ascertained that, let him next, if +possible, procure a sight of some print or small copy from any part of +either picture (there is a copy of the whole of the Transfiguration in the +Gallery at the Crystal Palace), and practically test the truth of what I +have said. Or, in the event of his not choosing to take that trouble, let +him ask any unprofessional and uncritical friend who has seen the pictures +themselves--and the more intelligent and unprejudiced that friend, the +better for my purpose--what the effect on him was of The Last Judgment, +or The Transfiguration. If I can only be assured of the sincerity of the +witness, I shall not be afraid of the result of the examination. + +Other readers who have visited the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Gallery +can testify for themselves (but, few of them will--I know them!) whether I +have misrepresented their impressions or not. To that part of my audience +I have nothing to say, except that I beg them not to believe that I am +a heretic in relation to all works by all old masters, because I have +spoken out about the Last Judgment and the Transfiguration. I am not +blind, I hope, to the merits of any picture, provided it will bear honest +investigation on uncritical principles. I have seen such exceptional +works by ones and twos, amid many hundreds of utterly worthless canvasses +with undeservedly famous names attached to them, in Italy and elsewhere. +My valet-de-place has not pointed them out to me; my guide-book, which +criticises according to authority, has not recommended me to look at +them, except in very rare cases indeed. I discovered them for myself, +and others may discover them as readily as I did, if they will only +take their minds out of leading-strings when they enter a gallery, and +challenge a picture boldly to do its duty by explaining its own merits to +them without the assistance of an interpreter. Having given that simple +receipt for the finding out and enjoying of good pictures, I need give no +more. It is no part of my object to attempt to impose my own tastes and +preferences on others. I want--if I may be allowed to repeat my motives +once more in the plainest terms--to do all I can to shake the influence +of authority in matters of Art, because I see that authority standing +drearily and persistently aloof from all popular sympathy; because I see +it keeping pictures and the people apart; because I find it setting up as +masterpieces, two of the worst of many palpably bad and barbarous works +of past times; and lastly, because I find it purchasing pictures for the +National Gallery of England, for which, in nine cases out of ten, the +nation has no concern or care, which have no merits but technical merits, +and which have not the last and lowest recommendation of winning general +approval even among the critics and connoisseurs themselves. + +And what remedy against this? I say at the end, as I said at the +beginning, the remedy is to judge for ourselves, and to express our +opinions, privately and publicly, on every possible occasion, without +hesitation, without compromise, without reference to any precedents +whatever. Public opinion has had its victories in other matters, and may +yet have its victory in matters of Art. We, the people, have a gallery +that is called ours; let us do our best to have it filled for the future +with pictures (no matter when or by whom painted), that we can get some +honest enjoyment and benefit from. Let us, in Parliament and out of +it, before dinner and after dinner, in the presence of authorities just +as coolly as out of the presence of authorities, say plainly once for +all, that the sort of High Art which is professedly bought _for us_, +and which does actually address itself to nobody but painters, critics, +and connoisseurs, is not High Art at all, but the lowest of the Low: +because it is the narrowest as to its sphere of action, and the most +scantily furnished as to its means of doing good. We shall shock the +connoisseurs (especially the elderly ones) by taking this course; we +shall get indignantly reprimanded by the critics, and flatly contradicted +by the lecturers; but we shall also, sooner or later, get a collection +of pictures bought for us that we, mere mankind, can appreciate and +understand. It may be a revolutionary sentiment, but I think that the +carrying out of this reform (as well as of a few others) is a part of +the national business which the people of England have got to do for +themselves, and in which no existing authorities will assist them. There +is a great deal of social litter accumulating about us. Suppose, when +we start the business of setting things to rights, that we try the new +broom gently at first, by sweeping away a little High Art, and having the +temerity to form our own opinions? + + + + +SOCIAL GRIEVANCES.--IV. + +SAVE ME FROM MY FRIENDS. + + +A few days ago, I was walking in a street at the western part of London, +and I encountered a mendicant individual of an almost extinct species. +Some years since, the oratorical beggar, who addressed himself to the +public on each side of the way, in a neat speech spoken from the middle +of the road, was almost as constant and regular in his appearances as the +postman himself. Of late, however, this well-known figure--this cadger +Cicero of modern days--has all but disappeared; the easy public ear having +probably grown rather deaf, in course of time, to the persuasive power +of orators with only two subjects to illustrate--their moral virtues and +their physical destitution. + +With these thoughts in my mind, I stopped to look at the rare and wretched +object for charity whom I had met by chance, and to listen to the address +which he was delivering for the benefit of the street population and the +street passengers on both sides of the pavement. He was a tall, sturdy, +self-satisfied, healthy-looking vagabond, with a face which would have +been almost handsome if it had not been disfigured by the expression +which Nature sets, like a brand, on the countenance of a common impostor. +As for his style of oratory, I will not do him the injustice of merely +describing it. Here is a specimen, faithfully reported for the public, +from the original speech:-- + +"Good Christian people, will you be so obliging as to leave off your +various occupations for a few minutes only, and listen to the harrowing +statement of a father of a family, who is reduced to acknowledge his +misfortunes in the public streets? Work, honest work, is all I ask for; +and I cannot get it. Why?--I ask, most respectfully, why? Good Christian +people, I think it is because I have no friends. Alas! indeed I have no +friends. My wife and seven babes are, I am shocked to tell you, without +food. Yes, without food. Oh, yes, without food. Because we have no +friends: I assure you I am right in saying because we have no friends. +Why am I and my wife and my seven babes starving in a land of plenty? +Why have I no share in the wholesome necessaries of life, which I see, +with my hungry eyes, in butchers' and bakers' shops on each side of me? +Can anybody give me a reason for this? I think, good Christian people, +nobody can. Must I perish in a land of plenty because I have no work +and because I have no friends? I cannot perish in a land of plenty. No, +I cannot perish in a land of plenty. Oh, no, I cannot perish in a land +of plenty. Bear with my importunity, if you please, and listen to my +harrowing statement. I am the father of a starving family, and I have got +no friends." + +With this neat return to the introductory passage of his speech, the +mendicant individual paused; collected the pecuniary tokens of public +approval; and walked forward, with a funereal slowness of step, to deliver +a second edition of his address in another part of the street. + +While I had been looking at this man, I had also been insensibly led to +compare myself, as I stood on the pavement, with my oratorical vagrant, +as he stood in the roadway. In some important respects, I found, to +my own astonishment, that the result of the comparison was not by any +means flattering on my side. I might certainly assume, without paying +myself any extraordinary compliment, that I was the honester man of the +two; also that I was better educated and a little better clad. But here +my superiority ceased. The beggar was far in advance of me in all the +outward and visible signs of inward mental comfort which combine to form +the appearance of a healthily-constituted man. After perplexing myself, +for some time, in the attempt to discover the reason for the enviably +prosperous and contented aspect of this vagabond--which appeared palpably +to any sharp observer, through his assumed expression of suffering +and despair--I came to the singular conclusion that the secret of his +personal advantages over me, lay in the very circumstance on which he +chiefly relied for awakening the sympathies of the charitable public--the +circumstance of his having no friends. + +"No friends!" I repeated to myself, as I walked away. "Happily-situated +vagrant! there is the true cause of your superiority over me--you have no +friends! But can the marvellous assertion be true? Can this enviable man +really go home and touch up his speech for to-morrow, with the certainty +of not being interrupted? I am going home to finish an article, without +knowing whether I shall have a clear five minutes to myself, all the +time I am at work. Can he take his money back to his drawer, in broad +daylight, and meet nobody by the way who will say to him, 'Remember our +old friendship, and lend me a trifle'? I have money waiting for me at my +publisher's, and I dare not go and fetch it, except under cover of the +night. Is that spoilt child of fortune, from whom I have just separated +myself, really and truly never asked to parties and obliged to go to them? +He has a button on his coat--I am positively certain I saw it--and is +there no human finger and thumb to lay hold of it, and no human tongue to +worry him, the while? He does not live in the times of the pillory, and +he has his ears--the lucky wretch. Have those organs actually enjoyed the +indescribable blessedness of freedom from the intrusion of 'well-meant +advice'? Can he write--and has he got no letters to answer? Can he +read--and has he no dear friend's book to get through, whether he likes it +or not? No wonder that he looks prosperous and healthy, though he lives +in a dingy slum, and that I look peevish and pale, though I reside on +gravel, in an airy neighbourhood. Good Heavens! does he dare to speak of +his misfortunes, when he has no calls to make? Irrational Sybarite! what +does he want next, I wonder?" + + * * * * * + +These are crabbed sentiments. But, perhaps, as it is the fashion, +now-a-days, to take an inveterately genial view of society in general, my +present outbreak of misanthropy may be pardoned, in consideration of its +involving a certain accidental originality of expression in relation to +social subjects. It is a dreadful thing to say; but it is the sad truth +that I have never yet been able to appreciate the advantage of having a +large circle of acquaintances, and that I could positively dispense with +a great many of my dearest friends. + + * * * * * + +There is my Boisterous Friend, for instance--an excellent creature, who +has been intimate with me from childhood, and who loves me as his brother. +I always know when he calls, though my study is at the top of the house. I +hear him in the passage, the moment the door is opened--he is so hearty; +and, like other hearty people, he has such a loud voice. I have told my +servant to say that I am engaged, which means simply, that I am hard at +work. "Dear old boy!" I hear my Boisterous Friend exclaim, with a genial +roar, "writing away, just as usual--eh, Susan? Lord bless you! he knows +me--he knows I don't want to interrupt him. Up-stairs, of course? I know +my way. Just for a minute, Susan--just for a minute." The voice stops, +and heavily-shod feet (all boisterous men wear thick boots) ascend the +stairs, two at a time. My door is burst open, as if with a battering-ram +(no boisterous man ever knocks), and my friend rushes in like a mad bull. +"Ha, ha, ha! I've caught you," says the associate of my childhood. "Don't +stop for me, dear old boy; I'm not going to interrupt you (bless my soul, +what a lot of writing!)--and you're all right, eh? That's all I wanted to +know. By George, it's quite refreshing to see you here forming the public +mind! No! I won't sit down; I won't stop another instant. So glad to have +seen you, dear fellow--good-bye." By this time, his affectionate voice +has made the room ring again; he has squeezed my hand, in his brotherly +way, till my fingers are too sore to hold the pen; and he has put to +flight, for the rest of the day, every idea that I had when I sat down to +work. And yet (as he would tell me himself) he has not been in the room +more than a minute--though he might well have stopped for hours, without +doing any additional harm. Could I really dispense with him? I don't deny +that he has known me from the time when I was in short frocks, and that +he loves me like a brother. Nevertheless, I could dispense--yes, I could +dispense--oh, yes, I could dispense--with my Boisterous Friend. + +Again, there is my Domestic Friend, whose time for calling on me is late +in the afternoon, when I have wrought through my day's task; and when a +quiet restorative half-hour by myself, over the fire, is precious to me +beyond all power of expression. There is my Domestic Friend, who comes +to me at such times, and who has no subject of conversation but the +maladies of his wife and children. No efforts that I can make to change +the subject, can get me out of the range of the family sick-room. If +I start the weather, I lead to a harrowing narrative of its effect on +Mrs. Ricketts, or the Master and Miss Rickettses. If I try politics or +literature, my friend apologises for knowing nothing about any recent +events in which ministers or writers are concerned, by telling me how +his time has been taken up by illness at home. If I attempt to protect +myself by asking him to meet a large party, where the conversation must +surely be on general topics, he brings his wife with him (though he +told me, when I invited her, that she was unable to stir from her bed), +and publicly asks her how she feels, at certain intervals; wafting that +affectionate question across the table, as easily as if he was handing +the salt-cellar, or passing the bottle. I have given up defending myself +against him of late, in sheer despair. I am resigned to my fate. Though +not a family man, I know (through the vast array of facts in connection +with the subject, with which my friend has favoured me) as much about the +maladies of young mothers and their children, as the doctor himself. Does +any other unmedical man know when half a pint of raw brandy may be poured +down the throat of a delicate and sensitive woman, without producing the +slightest effect on her, except of the restorative kind? I know when it +may be done--when it must be done--when, I give you my sacred word of +honour, the exhibition of alcohol in large quantities, may be the saving +of one precious life--ay, sir, and perhaps of two! Possibly it may yet +prove a useful addition to my stores of information, to know what I +know now on such interesting subjects as these. It may be so--but, good +Christian people, it is not the less true, that I could also dispense with +my Domestic Friend. + +My Country Friends--I must not forget them--and least of all, my +hospitable hostess, Lady Jinkinson, who is in certain respects the type +and symbol of my whole circle of rural acquaintance. + +Lady Jinkinson is the widow of a gallant general officer. She has a +charming place in the country. She has also sons who are splendid fellows, +and daughters who are charming girls. She has a cultivated taste for +literature--so have the charming girls--so have not the splendid fellows. +She thinks a little attention to literary men is very becoming in persons +of distinction; and she is good enough to ask me to come and stay at her +country-house, where a room shall be specially reserved for me, and where +I can write my "fine things" in perfect quiet, away from London noises +and London interruptions. I go to the country-house with my work in my +portmanteau--work which must be done by a certain time. I find a charming +little room made ready for me, opening into my bed-room, and looking out +on the lovely garden-terrace, and the noble trees in the park beyond. I +come down to breakfast in the morning; and after the second cup of tea. +I get up to return to my writing-room. A chorus of family remonstrances +rises instantly. Oh, surely I am not going to begin writing on the very +first day. Look at the sun, listen to the birds, feel the sweet air. A +drive in the country, after the London smoke, is absolutely necessary--a +drive to Shockley Bottom, and a picnic luncheon (so nice!), and back by +Grimshawe's Folly (such a view from the top!), and a call, on the way +home, at the Abbey, that lovely old house, where the dear Squire has +had my last book read aloud to him (only think of that! the very last +thing in the world that I could possibly have expected!) by darling Emily +and Matilda, who are both dying to know me. Possessed by a (printer's) +devil, I gruffly break through this string of temptations to be idle, and +resolutely make my escape. + +"Lunch at half-past one," says Lady Jinkinson, as I retire. + +"Pray, don't wait for me," I answer. + +"Lunch at half-past one," persists Lady Jinkinson, as if she thought I +had not heard her. + +"And cigars in the billiard-room," adds one of the splendid fellows. + +"And in the green-house, too," continues one of the charming girls, "where +your horrid smoking is really of some use." + +I shut the door desperately. The last words I hear are from Lady +Jinkinson. "Lunch at half-past one." + +I get into my writing-room, and take the following inventory of the +contents:-- + +Table of rare inlaid woods, on which a drop of ink would be downright +ruin. Silver inkstand of enormous size, holding about a thimbleful of +ink. Clarified pens in scented papier-mâché box. Blotting-book lined with +crimson watered silk, full of violet and rose-coloured note-paper with the +Jinkinson crest stamped in silver at the top of each leaf. Pen-wiper, of +glossy new cloth, all ablaze with beads; tortoise-shell paper-knife; also +paper-weight, exhibiting a view of the Colosseum in rare Mosaic; also, +light green taper, in ebony candlestick; wax in scented box; matches in +scented box; pencil-tray made of fine gold, with a turquoise eruption +breaking out all over it. Upon the whole, about two hundred pounds' worth +of valuable property, as working materials for me to write with. + +I remove every portable article carefully from the inlaid table--look +about me for the most worthless thing I can discover to throw over it, in +case of ink-splashes,--find nothing worthless in the room, except my own +summer paletôt,--take that, accordingly, and make a cloth of it,--pull +out my battered old writing-case, with my provision of cheap paper, and +my inky steel pen in my two-penny holder. With these materials before +me on my paletôt (price one guinea), I endeavour to persuade myself, by +carefully abstaining from looking about the room, that I am immersed in +my customary squalor, and upheld by my natural untidiness. After a little +while, I succeed in the effort, and begin to work. + +Birds. The poets are all fond of birds. Can they write, I wonder, when +their favourites are singing in chorus close outside their window? I, +who only produce prose, find birds a nuisance. Cows also. Has that one +particular cow who bellows so very regularly, a bereavement to mourn? +I think we shall have veal for dinner to-day; I do think we shall have +nice veal and stuffing. But this is not the train of thought I ought to +be engaged in. Let me be deaf to these pastoral noises (including the +sharpening of the gardener's scythe on the lawn), and get on with my work. + +Tum-dum-tiddy-hidy-dum--tom-tom-tiddy-hiddy-tom--ti-too-tidy-hidy-ti-- +ti-ti-ti-tum. Yes, yes, that famous tenor bit in the Trovatore, played +with prodigious fire on the piano in the room below, by one of the +charming girls. I like the Trovatore (not being, fortunately for +myself, a musical critic). Let me lean back in my chair on this balmy +morning--writing being now clearly out of the question--and float away +placidly on the stream of melody. Brava! Brava! Bravissima! She is +going through the whole opera, now in one part of it, and now in +another. No, she stops, after only an hour's practice. A voice calls +to her; I hear her ringing laugh, in answer: no more piano--silence. +Work, work, you must be done! Oh, my ideas, my only stock in trade, +mercifully come back to me--or, like the famous Roman, I have lost a +day. + +Let me see; where was I when the Trovatore began? At the following passage +apparently, for the sentence is left unfinished. + +"_The farther we enter into this interesting subject, the more light_"---- +What had I got to say about light, when the Trovatore began? Was it, +"flows in upon us"? No; nothing so commonplace as that. I had surely a +good long metaphor, and a fine round close to the sentence. "The more +light"----shines? beams? bursts? dawns? floods? bathes? quivers? Oh, me! +what was the precious next word I had in my head, when the Trovatore took +possession of my poor crazy brains? It is useless to search for it. Strike +out "the more light," and try something else. + +"_The farther we enter into this interesting subject, the more prodigally +we find scattered before us the gems of truth which--so seldom ride over +to see us now._" + +"So seldom ride over to see us now?" Mercy on me, what am I about? +Ending my unfortunate sentence by mechanically taking down a few polite +words, spoken by the melodious voice of one of the charming girls on the +garden-terrace under my window. What do I hear, in a man's voice? "Regret +being so long an absentee, but my schools and my poor"--Oh, a young +clerical visitor; I know him by his way of talking. All young clergymen +speak alike--who teaches them, I wonder? Let me peep out of window. + +I am right. It is a young clergyman--no whiskers, apostolic hair, sickly +smile, long frock coat, a wisp of muslin round his neck, and a canonical +black waistcoat with no gap in it for the display of profane linen. The +charming girl is respectfully devouring him with her eyes. Are they going +to have their morning chat under my window? Evidently they are. This +is pleasant. Every word of their small, fluent, ceaseless, sentimental +gabble comes into my room. If I ask them to get out of hearing I am rude. +If I go to the window, and announce my presence by a cough, I confuse +the charming girl. No help for it, but to lay the pen down again, and +wait. This is a change for the worse, with a vengeance. The Trovatore was +something pleasant to listen to; but the reverend gentleman's opinions +on the terrace flowers which he has come to admire; on the last volume of +modern poetry which he has borrowed from the charming girl; on the merits +of the church system in the Ages of Faith, and on the difficulties he +has had to contend with in his Infant School, are, upon the whole, rather +wearisome to listen to. And this is the house that I entered in the full +belief that it would offer me the luxury of perfect quiet to work in! And +down stairs sits Lady Jinkinson, firmly believing that she has given me +such an opportunity of distinguishing myself with my pen, as I have never +before enjoyed in all my life! Patience, patience. + +Half an hour; three quarters of an hour. Do I hear him taking his leave? +Yes, at last. Pen again; paper again. Where was I? + +"_The farther we enter into this interesting subject, the more prodigally +do we find scattered before us the gems of truth, which_"---- + +What was I going to say the gems of truth did, when the young clergyman +and the charming girl began their sentimental interview on the terrace? +Gone--utterly gone. Strike out the gems of truth, and try another way. + +"_The farther we enter into this interesting subject, the more its vast +capabilities_"---- + +A knock at the door. + +"Yes." + +"Her Ladyship wishes me to say, sir, that luncheon is ready." + +"Very well." + + * * * * * + +"_The farther we enter into this interesting subject, the more clearly +its vast capabilities display themselves to our view. The mind, indeed, +can hardly be pronounced competent_"---- + +A knock at the door. + +"Yes." + +"Her Ladyship wishes me to remind you, sir, that luncheon is ready." + +"Pray beg Lady Jinkinson not to wait for me." + + * * * * * + +"_The mind, indeed, can hardly be pronounced competent to survey the +extended field of observation_"---- + +A knock at the door. + +"Yes." + +"I beg your pardon, sir, but her Ladyship desires me to say that a friar's +omelette has just come up, which she very much wishes you to taste. And +she is afraid it will get cold, unless you will be so good as to come +down-stairs at once." + +"Say, I will come directly." + + * * * * * + +"_The mind, indeed, can hardly be pronounced competent to survey the +extended field of observation, which_"--which?--which?--Gone again! What +else could I expect? A nice chance literature has in this house against +luncheon. + +I descend to the dining-room, and am politely told that I look as if I had +just achieved a wonderful morning's work. "I dare say you have not written +in such perfect quiet as this for months past?" says Lady Jinkinson, +helping me to the friar's omelette. I begin with that dainty: where I +end is more than my recollection enables me to say. Everybody feeds me, +under the impression that I am exhausted with writing. All the splendid +fellows will drink wine with me, "to set me going again." Nobody believes +my rueful assertion that I have done nothing, which they ascribe to +excessive modesty. When we rise from table (a process which is performed +with extreme difficulty, speaking for myself), I am told that the carriage +will be ready in an hour. Lady Jinkinson will not hear of any objections. +"No! no!" she says. "I have not asked you here to overwork yourself. I +really can't allow that." + +I get back to my room, with an extraordinary tightness in my waistcoat, +and with slight symptoms of a determination of Sherry to the head. Under +these circumstances, returning to work immediately is not to be thought +of. Returning to bed is by far the wiser proceeding. I lie down to arrange +my ideas. Having none to arrange, I yield to Nature, and go to sleep. + +When I wake, my head is clear again. I see my way now to the end of that +bit about "the extended field of observation;" and make for my table in +high spirits. Just as I sit down, comes another knock at the door. The +carriage is ready. The carriage! I had forgotten all about it. There +is no way of escape, however. Hours must give way to me, when I am at +home; I must give way to hours, when I am at Lady Jinkinson's. My papers +are soon shuffled together in my case; and I am once more united with +the hospitable party down-stairs. "More bright ideas?" cry the ladies +interrogatively, as I take my place in the carriage. "Not the dimmest +vestige of one," I answer. Lady Jinkinson shakes her parasol reproachfully +at me. "My dear friend, you were always absurdly modest when speaking of +yourself; and, do you know, I think it grows on you." + +We get back in time to dress for dinner. After dinner, there is the +social evening, and more Trovatore. After that, cigars with the splendid +fellows in the billiard-room. I look over my day's work, with the calmness +of despair, when I get to bed at last. It amounts to four sentences +and a half; every line of which is perfectly worthless as a literary +composition. + +The next morning, I rise before the rest of the family are up, leave a +note of apology on my table, and take the early train for London. This +is very ungrateful behaviour to people who have treated me with extreme +kindness. But here, again, I must confess the hard truth. The demands +of my business in life are imperative; and, sad to say, they absolutely +oblige me to dispense with Lady Jinkinson. + + * * * * * + +I have now been confessing my misanthropical sentiments at some length; +but I have not by any means done yet with the number of my dear friends +whom I could dispense with. To say nothing of my friend who borrows +money of me (an obvious nuisance), there is my self-satisfied friend, who +can talk of nothing but himself, and his successes in life; there is my +inattentive friend, who is perpetually asking me irrelevant questions, +and who has no power of listening to my answers; there is my accidental +friend, whom I always meet when I go out; there is my hospitable friend, +who is continually telling me that he wants so much to ask me to dinner, +and who never does really ask me by any chance. All these intimate +associates of mine are persons of fundamentally irreproachable characters, +and of well-defined positions in the world; and yet so unhappily is my +nature constituted, that I am not exaggerating when I acknowledge that I +could positively dispense with every one of them. + +To proceed a little farther, now that I have begun to unburden my mind-- + + * * * * * + +A double knock at the street door stops my pen suddenly. I make no +complaint, for I have been, to my own amazement, filling these pages for +the last three hours, in my parlour after dinner, without interruption. +A well-known voice in the passage smites my ear, inquiring for me, on +very particular business, and asking the servant to take in the name. The +servant appears at my door, and I make up my mind to send these leaves +to the printer, unfinished as they are. No necessity, Susan, to mention +the name; I have recognised the voice. This is my friend who does not at +all like the state of my health. He comes, I know beforehand, with the +address of a new doctor, or the recipe of a new remedy; and he will stay +for hours, persuading me that I am in a bad way. No escaping from him, as +I know by experience. Well, well, I have made my confession, and eased my +mind. Let my friend who doesn't like the state of my health, end the list, +for the present, of the dear friends whom I could dispense with. Show him +in, Susan--show him in. + + + + +CASES WORTH LOOKING AT.--III. + +THE CAULDRON OF OIL. + + +About one French league distant from the city of Toulouse, there is a +village called Croix-Daurade. In the military history of England, this +place is associated with a famous charge of the eighteenth hussars, which +united two separated columns of the British army, on the day before the +Duke of Wellington fought the battle of Toulouse. In the criminal history +of France, the village is memorable as the scene of a daring crime, which +was discovered and punished under circumstances sufficiently remarkable +to merit preservation in the form of a plain narrative. + + +I. THE PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. + +In the year seventeen hundred, the resident priest of the village of +Croix-Daurade was Monsieur Pierre-Célestin Chaubard. He was a man of no +extraordinary energy or capacity, simple in his habits, and sociable +in his disposition. His character was irreproachable; he was strictly +conscientious in the performance of his duties; and he was universally +respected and beloved by all his parishioners. + +Among the members of his flock, there was a family named Siadoux. The head +of the household, Saturnin Siadoux, had been long established in business +at Croix-Daurade as an oil-manufacturer. At the period of the events now +to be narrated, he had attained the age of sixty, and was a widower. His +family consisted of five children--three young men, who helped him in the +business, and two daughters. His nearest living relative was his sister, +the widow Mirailhe. + +The widow resided principally at Toulouse. Her time in that city was +mainly occupied in winding up the business affairs of her deceased +husband, which had remained unsettled for a considerable period after +his death, through delays in realising certain sums of money owing to his +representative. The widow had been left very well provided for--she was +still a comely attractive woman--and more than one substantial citizen +of Toulouse had shown himself anxious to persuade her into marrying for +the second time. But the widow Mirailhe lived on terms of great intimacy +and affection with her brother Siadoux and his family; she was sincerely +attached to them, and sincerely unwilling, at her age, to deprive her +nephews and nieces, by a second marriage, of the inheritance, or even of +a portion of the inheritance, which would otherwise fall to them on her +death. Animated by these motives, she closed her doors resolutely on all +suitors who attempted to pay their court to her, with the one exception +of a master-butcher of Toulouse, whose name was Cantegrel. + +This man was a neighbour of the widow's, and had made himself useful by +assisting her in the business complications which still hung about the +realisation of her late husband's estate. The preference which she showed +for the master-butcher was, thus far, of the purely negative kind. She +gave him no absolute encouragement; she would not for a moment admit +that there was the slightest prospect of her ever marrying him--but, at +the same time, she continued to receive his visits, and she showed no +disposition to restrict the neighbourly intercourse between them, for the +future, within purely formal bounds. Under these circumstances, Saturnin +Siadoux began to be alarmed, and to think it time to bestir himself. +He had no personal acquaintance with Cantegrel, who never visited the +village; and Monsieur Chaubard (to whom he might otherwise have applied +for advice) was not in a position to give an opinion: the priest and the +master-butcher did not even know each other by sight. In this difficulty, +Siadoux bethought himself of inquiring privately at Toulouse, in the hope +of discovering some scandalous passages in Cantegrel's early life, which +might fatally degrade him in the estimation of the widow Mirailhe. The +investigation, as usual in such cases, produced rumours and reports in +plenty, the greater part of which dated back to a period of the butcher's +life when he had resided in the ancient town of Narbonne. One of these +rumours, especially, was of so serious a nature, that Siadoux determined +to test the truth or falsehood of it, personally, by travelling to +Narbonne. He kept his intention a secret not only from his sister and his +daughters, but also from his sons; they were young men, not over-patient +in their tempers--and he doubted their discretion. Thus, nobody knew his +real purpose but himself, when he left home. + +His safe arrival at Narbonne was notified in a letter to his family. +The letter entered into no particulars relating to his secret errand: +it merely informed his children of the day when they might expect him +back, and of certain social arrangements which he wished to be made to +welcome him on his return. He proposed, on his way home, to stay two days +at Castelnaudry, for the purpose of paying a visit to an old friend who +was settled there. According to this plan, his return to Croix-Daurade +would be deferred until Tuesday, the twenty-sixth of April, when his +family might expect to see him about sunset, in good time for supper. +He further desired that a little party of friends might be invited to +the meal, to celebrate the twenty-sixth of April (which was a feast-day +in the village), as well as to celebrate his return. The guests whom +he wished to be invited were, first, his sister; secondly, Monsieur +Chaubard, whose pleasant disposition made him a welcome guest at all the +village festivals; thirdly and fourthly, two neighbours, business-men like +himself, with whom he lived on terms of the friendliest intimacy. That +was the party; and the family of Siadoux took especial pains, as the time +approached, to provide a supper worthy of the guests, who had all shown +the heartiest readiness in accepting their invitations. + +This was the domestic position, these were the family prospects, on +the morning of the twenty-sixth of April--a memorable day, for years +afterwards, in the village of Croix-Daurade. + + +II. THE EVENTS OF THE DAY. + +Besides the curacy of the village church, good Monsieur Chaubard held some +small ecclesiastical preferment in the cathedral church of St. Stephen +at Toulouse. Early in the forenoon of the twenty-sixth, certain matters +connected with this preferment took him from his village curacy to the +city--a distance which has been already described as not greater than one +French league, or between two and three English miles. + +After transacting his business, Monsieur Chaubard parted with his clerical +brethren, who left him by himself in the sacristy (or vestry) of the +church. Before he had quitted the room, in his turn, the beadle entered +it, and inquired for the Abbé de Mariotte, one of the officiating priests +attached to the cathedral. + +"The Abbé has just gone out," replied Monsieur Chaubard. "Who wants him?" + +"A respectable-looking man," said the beadle. "I thought he seemed to be +in some distress of mind, when he spoke to me." + +"Did he mention his business with the Abbé?" + +"Yes, sir; he expressed himself as anxious to make his confession +immediately." + +"In that case," said Monsieur Chaubard, "I may be of use to him in the +Abbé's absence--for I have authority to act here as confessor. Let us +go into the church, and see if this person feels disposed to accept my +services." + +When they went into the church, they found the man walking backwards and +forwards in a restless, disordered manner. His looks were so strikingly +suggestive of some serious mental perturbation, that Monsieur Chaubard +found it no easy matter to preserve his composure, when he first addressed +himself to the stranger. + +"I am sorry," he began, "that the Abbé de Mariotte is not here to offer +you his services----" + +"I want to make my confession," said the man, looking about him vacantly, +as if the priest's words had not attracted his attention. + +"You can do so at once, if you please," said Monsieur Chaubard. "I am +attached to this church, and I possess the necessary authority to receive +confessions in it. Perhaps, however, you are personally acquainted with +the Abbé de Mariotte? Perhaps you would prefer waiting----" + +"No!" said the man, roughly. "I would as soon, or sooner, confess to a +stranger." + +"In that case," replied Monsieur Chaubard, "be so good as to follow me." + +He led the way to the confessional. The beadle, whose curiosity was +excited, waited a little, and looked after them. In a few minutes, he +saw the curtains, which were sometimes used to conceal the face of the +officiating priest, suddenly drawn. The penitent knelt with his back +turned to the church. There was literally nothing to see--but the beadle +waited nevertheless, in expectation of the end. + +After a long lapse of time, the curtain was withdrawn, and priest and +penitent left the confessional. + +The change which the interval had worked in Monsieur Chaubard was so +extraordinary, that the beadle's attention was altogether withdrawn, in +the interest of observing it, from the man who had made the confession. He +did not remark by which door the stranger left the church--his eyes were +fixed on Monsieur Chaubard. The priest's naturally ruddy face was as white +as if he had just risen from a long sickness--he looked straight before +him, with a stare of terror--and he left the church as hurriedly as if he +had been a man escaping from prison; left it without a parting word, or +a farewell look, although he was noted for his courtesy to his inferiors +on all ordinary occasions. + +"Good Monsieur Chaubard has heard more than he bargained for," said the +beadle, wandering back to the empty confessional, with an interest which +he had never felt in it till that moment. + + * * * * * + +The day wore on as quietly as usual in the village of Croix-Daurade. At +the appointed time, the supper-table was laid for the guests in the house +of Saturnin Siadoux. The widow Mirailhe, and the two neighbours, arrived a +little before sunset. Monsieur Chaubard, who was usually punctual, did not +make his appearance with them; and when the daughters of Saturnin Siadoux +looked out from the upper windows, they saw no signs on the high road of +their father's return. + +Sunset came--and still neither Siadoux nor the priest appeared. The little +party sat waiting round the table, and waited in vain. Before long, a +message was sent up from the kitchen, representing that the supper must +be eaten forthwith, or be spoilt; and the company began to debate the two +alternatives, of waiting, or not waiting, any longer. + +"It is my belief," said the widow Mirailhe, "that my brother is not coming +home to-night. When Monsieur Chaubard joins us, we had better sit down to +supper." + +"Can any accident have happened to my father?" asked one of the two +daughters, anxiously. + +"God forbid!" said the widow. + +"God forbid!" repeated the two neighbours, looking expectantly at the +empty supper-table. + +"It has been a wretched day for travelling," said Louis, the eldest son. + +"It rained in torrents, all yesterday," added Thomas, the second son. + +"And your father's rheumatism makes him averse to travelling in wet +weather," suggested the widow, thoughtfully. + +"Very true!" said the first of the two neighbours, shaking his head +piteously at his passive knife and fork. + +Another message came up from the kitchen, and peremptorily forbade the +company to wait any longer. + +"But where is Monsieur Chaubard?" said the widow. "Has he been taking a +journey too? Why is _he_ absent? Has anybody seen him to-day?" + +"I have seen him to-day," said the youngest son, who had not spoken yet. +This young man's name was Jean; he was little given to talking, but he +had proved himself, on various domestic occasions, to be the quickest and +most observant member of the family. + +"Where did you see him?" asked the widow. + +"I met him, this morning, on his way into Toulouse." + +"He has not fallen ill, I hope? Did he look out of sorts when you met him?" + +"He was in excellent health and spirits," said Jean. "I never saw him look +better----" + +"And _I_ never saw him look worse," said the second of the neighbours, +striking into the conversation with the aggressive fretfulness of a hungry +man. + +"What! this morning?" cried Jean, in astonishment. + +"No; this afternoon," said the neighbour. "I saw him going into our church +here. He was as white as our plates will be--when they come up. And what +is almost as extraordinary, he passed without taking the slightest notice +of me." + +Jean relapsed into his customary silence. It was getting dark; the clouds +had gathered while the company had been talking; and, at the first pause +in the conversation, the rain, falling again in torrents, made itself +drearily audible. + +"Dear, dear me!" said the widow. "If it was not raining so hard, we might +send somebody to inquire after good Monsieur Chaubard." + +"I'll go and inquire," said Thomas Siadoux. "It's not five minutes' +walk. Have up the supper; I'll take a cloak with me; and if our excellent +Monsieur Chaubard is out of his bed, I'll bring him back, to answer for +himself." + +With those words he left the room. The supper was put on the table +forthwith. The hungry neighbour disputed with nobody from that moment, +and the melancholy neighbour recovered his spirits. + +On reaching the priest's house, Thomas Siadoux found him sitting alone +in his study. He started to his feet, with every appearance of the most +violent alarm, when the young man entered the room. + +"I beg your pardon, sir," said Thomas; "I am afraid I have startled you." + +"What do you want?" asked Monsieur Chaubard, in a singularly abrupt, +bewildered manner. + +"Have you forgotten, sir, that this is the night of our supper?" +remonstrated Thomas. "My father has not come back; and we can only +suppose----" + +At those words the priest dropped into his chair again, and trembled from +head to foot. Amazed to the last degree by this extraordinary reception +of his remonstrance, Thomas Siadoux remembered, at the same time, that he +had engaged to bring Monsieur Chaubard back with him; and, he determined +to finish his civil speech, as if nothing had happened. + +"We are all of opinion," he resumed, "that the weather has kept my father +on the road. But that is no reason, sir, why the supper should be wasted, +or why you should not make one of us, as you promised. Here is a good warm +cloak----" + +"I can't come," said the priest. "I'm ill; I'm in bad spirits; I'm not +fit to go out." He sighed bitterly, and hid his face in his hands. + +"Don't say that, sir," persisted Thomas. "If you are out of spirits, let +us try to cheer you. And you, in your turn, will enliven us. They are all +waiting for you at home. Don't refuse, sir," pleaded the young man, "or +we shall think we have offended you, in some way. You have always been a +good friend to our family----" + +Monsieur Chaubard again rose from his chair, with a second change +of manner, as extraordinary and as perplexing as the first. His eyes +moistened as if the tears were rising in them; he took the hand of Thomas +Siadoux, and pressed it long and warmly in his own. There was a curious +mixed expression of pity and fear in the look which he now fixed on the +young man. + +"Of all the days in the year," he said, very earnestly, "don't doubt my +friendship to-day. Ill as I am, I will make one of the supper-party, for +your sake----" + +"And for my father's sake?" added Thomas, persuasively. + +"Let us go to the supper," said the priest. + +Thomas Siadoux wrapped the cloak round him, and they left the house. + +Every one at the table noticed the change in Monsieur Chaubard. He +accounted for it by declaring, confusedly, that he was suffering +from nervous illness; and then added that he would do his best, +notwithstanding, to promote the social enjoyment of the evening. His talk +was fragmentary, and his cheerfulness was sadly forced; but he contrived, +with these drawbacks, to take his part in the conversation--except in the +case when it happened to turn on the absent master of the house. Whenever +the name of Saturnin Siadoux was mentioned--either by the neighbours, +who politely regretted that he was not present; or by the family, who +naturally talked about the resting-place which he might have chosen +for the night--Monsieur Chaubard either relapsed into blank silence, or +abruptly changed the topic. Under these circumstances, the company, by +whom he was respected and beloved, made the necessary allowances for his +state of health; the only person among them, who showed no desire to cheer +the priest's spirits, and to humour him in his temporary fretfulness, +being the silent younger son of Saturnin Siadoux. + +Both Louis and Thomas noticed that, from the moment when Monsieur +Chaubard's manner first betrayed his singular unwillingness to touch on +the subject of their father's absence, Jean fixed his eyes on the priest, +with an expression of suspicious attention; and never looked away from him +for the rest of the evening. The young man's absolute silence at table +did not surprise his brothers, for they were accustomed to his taciturn +habits. But the sullen distrust betrayed in his close observation of the +honoured guest and friend of the family, surprised and angered them. The +priest himself seemed once or twice to be aware of the scrutiny to which +he was subjected, and to feel uneasy and offended, as he naturally might. +He abstained, however, from openly noticing Jean's strange behaviour; and +Louis and Thomas were bound, therefore, in common politeness, to abstain +from noticing it also. + +The inhabitants of Croix-Daurade kept early hours. Towards eleven o'clock, +the company rose and separated for the night. Except the two neighbours, +nobody had enjoyed the supper, and even the two neighbours, having eaten +their fill, were as glad to get home as the rest. In the little confusion +of parting, Monsieur Chaubard completed the astonishment of the guests at +the extraordinary change in him, by slipping away alone, without waiting +to bid anybody good night. + +The widow Mirailhe and her nieces withdrew to their bed-rooms, and left +the three brothers by themselves in the parlour. + +"Jean," said Thomas Siadoux, "I have a word to say to you. You stared +at our good Monsieur Chaubard in a very offensive manner all through the +evening. What did you mean by it?" + +"Wait till to-morrow," said Jean; "and perhaps I may tell you." + +He lit his candle, and left them. Both the brothers observed that his hand +trembled, and that his manner--never very winning--was, on that night, +more serious and more unsociable than usual. + + +III. THE YOUNGER BROTHER. + +When post-time came on the morning of the twenty-seventh, no letter +arrived from Saturnin Siadoux. On consideration, the family interpreted +this circumstance in a favourable light. If the master of the house had +not written to them, it followed, surely, that he meant to make writing +unnecessary by returning on that day. + +As the hours passed, the widow and her nieces looked out, from time to +time, for the absent man. Towards noon, they observed a little assembly +of people approaching the village. Ere long, on a nearer view, they +recognised at the head of the assembly, the chief magistrate of Toulouse, +in his official dress. He was accompanied by his Assessor (also in +official dress), by an escort of archers, and by certain subordinates +attached to the town-hall. These last appeared to be carrying some burden, +which was hidden from view by the escort of archers. The procession +stopped at the house of Saturnin Siadoux; and the two daughters, hastening +to the door, to discover what had happened, met the burden which the men +were carrying, and saw, stretched on a litter, the dead body of their +father. + +The corpse had been found that morning on the banks of the river Lers. +It was stabbed in eleven places with knife or dagger wounds. None of the +valuables about the dead man's person had been touched; his watch and his +money were still in his pockets. Whoever had murdered him, had murdered +him for vengeance, not for gain. + +Some time elapsed before even the male members of the family were +sufficiently composed to hear what the officers of justice had to say to +them. When this result had been at length achieved, and when the necessary +inquiries had been made, no information of any kind was obtained which +pointed to the murderer, in the eye of the law. After expressing his +sympathy, and promising that every available means should be tried to +effect the discovery of the criminal, the chief magistrate gave his orders +to his escort, and withdrew. + +When night came, the sister and the daughters of the murdered man retired +to the upper part of the house, exhausted by the violence of their grief. +The three brothers were left once more alone in the parlour, to speak +together of the awful calamity which had befallen them. They were of hot +Southern blood, and they looked on one another with a Southern thirst for +vengeance in their tearless eyes. + +The silent younger son was now the first to open his lips. + +"You charged me yesterday," he said to his brother Thomas, "with looking +strangely at Monsieur Chaubard all the evening; and I answered that I +might tell you _why_ I looked at him when to-morrow came. To-morrow has +come, and I am ready to tell you." + +He waited a little, and lowered his voice to a whisper when he spoke again. + +"When Monsieur Chaubard was at our supper-table last night," he said, "I +had it in my mind that something had happened to our father, and that the +priest knew it." + +The two elder brothers looked at him in speechless astonishment. + +"Our father has been brought back to us a murdered man!" Jean went on, +still in a whisper. "I tell you, Louis--and you, Thomas--that the priest +knows who murdered him." + +Louis and Thomas shrank from their younger brother, as if he had spoken +blasphemy. + +"Listen," said Jean. "No clue has been found to the secret of the murder. +The magistrate has promised us to do his best--but I saw in his face that +he had little hope. We must make the discovery ourselves--or our father's +blood will have cried to us for vengeance, and cried in vain. Remember +that--and mark my next words. You heard me say yesterday evening, that +I had met Monsieur Chaubard on his way to Toulouse in excellent health +and spirits. You heard our old friend and neighbour contradict me at the +supper-table, and declare that he had seen the priest, some hours later, +go into our church here with the face of a panic-stricken man. You saw, +Thomas, how he behaved when you went to fetch him to our house. You saw, +Louis, what his looks were like when he came in. The change was noticed by +everybody--what was the cause of it? _I_ saw the cause in the priest's own +face, when our father's name turned up in the talk round the supper-table. +Did Monsieur Chaubard join in that talk? He was the only person present +who never joined in it once. Did he change it, on a sudden, whenever +it came his way? It came his way four times; and four times he changed +it--trembling, stammering, turning whiter and whiter, but still, as true +as the Heaven above us, shifting the talk off himself, every time! Are +you men? Have you brains in your heads? Don't you see, as I see, what +this leads to? On my salvation I swear it--the priest knows the hand that +killed our father!" + +The faces of the two elder brothers darkened vindictively, as the +conviction of the truth fastened itself on their minds. + +"_How_ could he know it?" they inquired, eagerly. + +"He must tell us himself," said Jean. + +"And if he hesitates--if he refuses to open his lips?" + +"We must open them by main force." + +They drew their chairs together after that last answer, and consulted, +for some time, in whispers. + +When the consultation was over, the brothers rose and went into the room +where the dead body of their father was laid out. The three kissed him, in +turn, on the forehead--then took hands together, and looked, meaningly, +in each other's faces--then separated. Louis and Thomas put on their +hats, and went at once to the priest's residence; while Jean withdrew by +himself to the great room at the back of the house, which was used for +the purposes of the oil-factory. + +Only one of the workmen was left in the place. He was watching an immense +cauldron of boiling linseed-oil. + +"You can go home," said Jean, patting the man kindly on the shoulder. +"There is no hope of a night's rest for me, after the affliction that +has befallen us--I will take your place at the cauldron. Go home, my good +fellow--go home." + +The man thanked him, and withdrew. Jean followed, and satisfied himself +that the workman had really left the house. He then returned, and sat down +by the boiling cauldron. + +Meanwhile, Louis and Thomas presented themselves at the priest's house. +He had not yet retired to bed, and he received them kindly--but with +the same extraordinary agitation in his face and manner which had +surprised all who saw him on the previous day. The brothers were prepared +beforehand with an answer, when he inquired what they wanted of him. They +replied immediately that the shock of their father's horrible death had +so seriously affected their aunt and their eldest sister, that it was +feared the minds of both might give way, unless spiritual consolation and +assistance were afforded to them that night. The unhappy priest--always +faithful and self-sacrificing where the duties of his ministry were in +question--at once rose to accompany the young men back to the house. He +even put on his surplice, and took the crucifix with him, to impress his +words of comfort all the more solemnly on the afflicted women whom he was +called on to succour. + +Thus innocent of all suspicion of the conspiracy to which he had fallen a +victim, he was taken into the room where Jean sat waiting by the cauldron +of oil; and the door was locked behind him. + +Before he could speak, Thomas Siadoux openly avowed the truth. + +"It is we three who want you," he said--"not our aunt, and not our sister. +If you answer our questions truly, you have nothing to fear. If you +refuse----" He stopped, and looked toward Jean and the boiling cauldron. + +Never, at the best of times, a resolute man; deprived, since the day +before, of such resources of energy as he possessed, by the mental +suffering which he had undergone in secret--the unfortunate priest +trembled from head to foot, as the three brothers closed round him. Louis +took the crucifix from him, and held it; Thomas forced him to place his +right hand on it; Jean stood in front of him and put the questions. + +"Our father has been brought home a murdered man," he said. "Do you know +who killed him?" + +The priest hesitated; and the two elder brothers moved him nearer to the +cauldron. + +"Answer us, on peril of your life," said Jean. "Say, with your hand on +the blessed crucifix, do you know the man who killed our father?" + +"I do know him." + +"When did you make the discovery?" + +"Yesterday." + +"Where?" + +"At Toulouse." + +"Name the murderer." + +At those words, the priest closed his hand fast on the crucifix, and +rallied his sinking courage. + +"Never!" he said firmly. "The knowledge I possess was obtained in the +confessional. The secrets of the confessional are sacred. If I betray +them, I commit sacrilege. I will die first!" + +"Think!" said Jean. "If you keep silence, you screen the murderer. If you +keep silence, you are the murderer's accomplice. We have sworn over our +father's dead body to avenge him--if you refuse to speak, we will avenge +him on _you_. I charge you again, name the man who killed him." + +"I will die first," the priest reiterated, as firmly as before. + +"Die then!" said Jean. "Die in that cauldron of boiling oil." + +"Give him time," cried Louis and Thomas, earnestly pleading together. + +"We will give him time," said the younger brother. "There is the clock +yonder, against the wall. We will count five minutes by it. In those five +minutes, let him make his peace with God--or make up his mind to speak." + +They waited, watching the clock. In that dreadful interval, the priest +dropped on his knees and hid his face. The time passed in dead silence. + +"Speak! for your own sake, for our sakes, speak!" said Thomas Siadoux, as +the minute hand reached the point at which the five minutes expired. + +The priest looked up--his voice died away on his lips--the mortal agony +broke out on his face in great drops of sweat--his head sank forward on +his breast. + +"Lift him!" cried Jean, seizing the priest on one side. "Lift him, and +throw him in!" + +The two elder brothers advanced a step--and hesitated. + +"Lift him, on your oath over our father's body!" + +The two brothers seized him on the other side. As they lifted him to a +level with the cauldron, the horror of the death that threatened him, +burst from the lips of the miserable man in a scream of terror. The +brothers held him firm at the cauldron's edge. "Name the man!" they said +for the last time. + +The priest's teeth chattered--he was speechless. But he made a sign with +his head--a sign in the affirmative. They placed him in a chair, and +waited patiently until he was able to speak. + +His first words were words of entreaty. He begged Thomas Siadoux to give +him back the crucifix. When it was placed in his possession, he kissed +it, and said faintly, "I ask pardon of God for the sin that I am about to +commit." He paused; and then looked up at the younger brother, who still +stood in front of him. "I am ready," he said. "Question me, and I will +answer." + +Jean repeated the questions which he had put, when the priest was first +brought into the room. + +"You know the murderer of our father?" + +"I know him." + +"Since when?" + +"Since he made his confession to me yesterday, in the cathedral of +Toulouse." + +"Name him." + +"His name is Cantegrel." + +"The man who wanted to marry our aunt?" + +"The same." + +"What brought him to the confessional?" + +"His own remorse." + +"What were the motives for his crime?" + +"There were reports against his character; and he discovered that your +father had gone privately to Narbonne to make sure that they were true." + +"Did our father make sure of their truth?" + +"He did." + +"Would those discoveries have separated our aunt from Cantegrel if our +father had lived to tell her of them?" + +"They would. If your father had lived, he would have told your aunt that +Cantegrel was married already; that he had deserted his wife at Narbonne; +that she was living there with another man, under another name; and that +she had herself confessed it in your father's presence." + +"Where was the murder committed?" + +"Between Villefranche and this village. Cantegrel had followed your father +to Narbonne; and had followed him back again to Villefranche. As far as +that place, he travelled in company with others, both going and returning. +Beyond Villefranche, he was left alone at the ford over the river. There +Cantegrel drew the knife to kill him, before he reached home and told his +news to your aunt." + +"How was the murder committed?" + +"It was committed while your father was watering his pony by the bank of +the stream. Cantegrel stole on him from behind, and struck him as he was +stooping over the saddle-bow." + +"This is the truth, on your oath?" + +"On my oath, it is the truth." + +"You may leave us." + + * * * * * + +The priest rose from his chair without assistance. From the time when +the terror of death had forced him to reveal the murderer's name, a great +change had passed over him. He had given his answers with the immoveable +calmness of a man on whose mind all human interests had lost their hold. +He now left the room, strangely absorbed in himself; moving with the +mechanical regularity of a sleep-walker; lost to all perception of things +and persons about him. At the door he stopped--woke, as it seemed, from +the trance that possessed him--and looked at the three brothers with a +steady changeless sorrow, which they had never seen in him before, which +they never afterwards forgot. + +"I forgive you," he said, quietly and solemnly. "Pray for me, when my time +comes." + +With those last words, he left them. + + +IV. THE END. + +The night was far advanced; but the three brothers determined to set forth +instantly for Toulouse, and to place their information in the magistrate's +hands, before the morning dawned. + +Thus far, no suspicion had occurred to them of the terrible consequences +which were to follow their night-interview with the priest. They were +absolutely ignorant of the punishment to which a man in holy orders +exposed himself, if he revealed the secrets of the confessional. No +infliction of that punishment had been known in their neighbourhood--for, +at that time, as at this, the rarest of all priestly offences was a +violation of the sacred trust confided to the confessor by the Roman +Church. Conscious that they had forced the priest into the commission of +a clerical offence, the brothers sincerely believed that the loss of his +curacy would be the heaviest penalty which the law could exact from him. +They entered Toulouse that night, discussing the atonement which they +might offer to Monsieur Chaubard, and the means which they might best +employ to make his future life easy to him. + +The first disclosure of the consequences which would certainly follow +the outrage they had committed, was revealed to them when they made their +deposition before the officer of justice. The magistrate listened to their +narrative with horror vividly expressed in his face and manner. + +"Better you had never been born," he said, "than have avenged your +father's death, as you three have avenged it. Your own act has doomed the +guilty and the innocent to suffer alike." + +Those words proved prophetic of the truth. The end came quickly, as the +priest had foreseen it, when he spoke his parting words. + + * * * * * + +The arrest of Cantegrel was accomplished without difficulty, the next +morning. In the absence of any other evidence on which to justify this +proceeding, the private disclosure to the authorities of the secret which +the priest had violated, became inevitable. The Parliament of Languedoc +was, under these circumstances, the tribunal appealed to; and the decision +of that assembly immediately ordered the priest and the three brothers +to be placed in confinement, as well as the murderer Cantegrel. Evidence +was then immediately sought for, which might convict this last criminal, +without any reference to the revelation that had been forced from the +priest--and evidence enough was found to satisfy judges whose minds +already possessed the foregone certainty of the prisoner's guilt. He was +put on his trial, was convicted of the murder, and was condemned to be +broken on the wheel. The sentence was rigidly executed, with as little +delay as the law would permit. + +The cases of Monsieur Chaubard, and of the three sons of Siadoux, next +occupied the judges. The three brothers were found guilty of having forced +the secret of a confession from a man in holy orders, and were sentenced +to death by hanging. A far more terrible expiation of his offence awaited +the unfortunate priest. He was condemned to have his limbs broken on the +wheel, and to be afterwards, while still living, bound to the stake, and +destroyed by fire. + +Barbarous as the punishments of that period were, accustomed as the +population was to hear of their infliction, and even to witness it, the +sentences pronounced in these two cases dismayed the public mind; and the +authorities were surprised by receiving petitions for mercy from Toulouse, +and from all the surrounding neighbourhood. But the priest's doom had been +sealed. All that could be obtained, by the intercession of persons of +the highest distinction, was, that the executioner should grant him the +mercy of death, before his body was committed to the flames. With this +one modification, the sentence was executed, as the sentence had been +pronounced, on the curate of Croix-Daurade. + +The punishment of the three sons of Siadoux remained to be inflicted. But +the people, roused by the death of the ill-fated priest, rose against this +third execution, with a resolution before which the local government gave +way. The cause of the young men was taken up by the hot-blooded populace, +as the cause of all fathers and all sons; their filial piety was exalted +to the skies; their youth was pleaded in their behalf; their ignorance +of the terrible responsibility which they had confronted in forcing the +secret from the priest, was loudly alleged in their favour. More than +this, the authorities were actually warned that the appearance of the +prisoners on the scaffold would be the signal for an organised revolt and +rescue. Under this serious pressure, the execution was deferred, and the +prisoners were kept in confinement until the popular ferment had subsided. + +The delay not only saved their lives, it gave them back their liberty +as well. The infection of the popular sympathy had penetrated through +the prison doors. All three brothers were handsome, well-grown young +men. The gentlest of the three in disposition--Thomas Siadoux--aroused +the interest and won the affection of the head-gaoler's daughter. Her +father was prevailed on at her intercession to relax a little in his +customary vigilance; and the rest was accomplished by the girl herself. +One morning, the population of Toulouse heard, with every testimony of +the most extravagant rejoicing, that the three brothers had escaped, +accompanied by the gaoler's daughter. As a necessary legal formality, they +were pursued, but no extraordinary efforts were used to overtake them: +and they succeeded, accordingly, in crossing the nearest frontier. + +Twenty days later, orders were received from the capital, to execute +their sentence in effigy. They were then permitted to return to France, +on condition that they never again appeared in their native place, or in +any other part of the province of Languedoc. With this reservation they +were left free to live where they pleased, and to repent the fatal act +which had avenged them on the murderer of their father at the cost of the +priest's life. + +Beyond this point the official documents do not enable us to follow their +career. All that is now known has been now told of the village-tragedy at +Croix-Daurade. + + + + +BOLD WORDS BY A BACHELOR. + + +The postman's knocks at my door have been latterly more frequent than +usual; and out of the increased number of letters left for me, it has +happened that an unusually large proportion have contained wedding cards. +Just as there seem to be certain days when all the beautiful women in +London take to going out together, certain days when all the people we +know appear to be conspiring to meet us at every turn in one afternoon's +walk--so there seem to be times and seasons when all our friends are +inexplicably bent on getting married together. Capricious in everything, +the law of chances is especially whimsical, according to my experience, +in its influence over the solemnisation of matrimony. Six months ago, +there was no need for me to leave a single complimentary card anywhere, +for weeks and weeks together. Just at the present time, I find myself +in danger of wearing out my card-case by incessant use. My friends are +marrying recklessly in all sorts of opposite directions, and are making +the bells a greater nuisance than usual in every parish of London. + +These curious circumstances have set me thinking on the subject of +marriage, and have recalled to my mind certain reflections in connection +with that important change in life, which I first made when I was not +quite such an incurably-settled old bachelor as I am at the present +moment. + +It occurred to me, at that past time, and it occurs to me still, that +while great stress is laid in ordinary books and ordinary talk on the +personal interest which a man has himself, and on the family interest +which his near relations have also, in his marrying an affectionate +and sensible woman, sufficient importance has not been attached to the +interest of another sort, which the tried and worthy friends of his +bachelor days ought to feel, and, for the most part, do feel, in his +getting a good wife. It really and truly depends upon her, in more cases +than I should like to enumerate, whether her husband's friendships are +to be continued, after his marriage, in all their integrity, or are +only to be maintained as a mere social form. It is hardly necessary for +me to repeat--but I will do so, in order to avoid the slightest chance +of misconstruction--that I am here speaking only of the worthiest, the +truest, the longest-tried friends of a man's bachelor days. Towards these +every sensible married woman feels, as I believe, that she owes a duty for +her husband's sake. But, unfortunately, there are such female phenomena +in the world as fond wives and devoted mothers, who are anything rather +than sensible women the moment they are required to step out of the sphere +of their conjugal and maternal instincts. Women of this sort have an +unreasonable jealousy of their husbands in small things; and on the misuse +of their influence to serve the interests of that jealousy, lies but too +often the responsibility of severing such friendships as no man can hope +to form for the second time in the course of his life. By the severing +of friendships, I do not mean the breaking off of all intercourse, but +the fatal changing of the terms on which a man lives with his friend--the +casting of the first slight shadow which alters the look of the whole +prospect. It is astonishing by what a multitude of slight threads the firm +continuity of brotherly regard is maintained. Many a woman has snapped +asunder all the finer ligaments which once connected her husband and his +friend; and has thought it enough if she left the two still attached by +the coarser ties which are at the common disposal of all the world. Many a +woman--delicate, affectionate, and kind within her own narrow limits--has +committed that heavy social offence, and has never felt afterwards a +single pang of pity or remorse. + +These bold words will be unpopular enough, I am afraid, with certain +readers; but I am an old bachelor, and I must have licence to speak the +unwelcome truth. I respect and admire a good husband and father, but I +cannot shake off the equally sincere reverence that I feel for a good +friend; and I must be allowed to tell some married ladies--what Society +ought to tell them a little oftener--that there are other affections, in +this world, which are noble and honourable, besides those of conjugal and +parental origin. It may be an assertion of a very shocking and unexpected +kind, but I must nevertheless be excused for saying, that some of the +best wives and mothers in the land have given the heart-ache to some of +the best friends. While they have been behaving like patterns of conjugal +propriety, they have been estranging men who would once have gone to the +world's end to serve each other. I, as a single man, can say nothing of +the dreadful wrench--not the less dreadful because it is inevitable--when +a father and mother lose a daughter, in order that a lover may gain a +wife. But I can speak feelingly of the shock of losing a dear friend, in +order that a bride may gain a devoted husband. Nothing shall ever persuade +me (possibly because I am not married) that there is not a flaw of some +sort in the love for a wife which is made complete, in some people's eyes, +by forced contributions from the love which belongs to a friend. I know +that a man and woman who make a happy marriage have gained the summit of +earthly felicity; but do they never reach that enviable eminence without +having trampled underfoot something venerable, or something tender, by +the way? + +Bear with me, indignant wives, if I recall the long-past time when one of +the handsomest women I ever saw, took my dearest friend away from me, and +destroyed, in one short day, the whole pleasant edifice that we two had +been building up together since we were boys at school. + +I shall never be as fond of any human being again, as I was of that one +friend, and, until the beautiful woman came between us, I believe there +was nothing in this world that he would not have sacrificed and have +done for me. Even while he was courting, I kept my hold on him. Against +opposition on the part of his bride and her family, he stipulated that +I should be his best man on the wedding-day. The beautiful woman grudged +me my one small corner in his heart, even at that time; but he was true +to me--he persisted--and I was the first to shake hands with him when +he was a married man. I had no suspicion then that I was to lose him +from that moment. I only discovered the truth when I went to pay my +first visit to the bride and bridegroom at their abode in the country. +I found a beautiful house, exquisitely kept from top to bottom; I found +a hearty welcome; I found a good dinner and an airy bed-room; I found +a pattern husband and a pattern wife: the one thing I did not find was +my old friend. Something stood up in his clothes, shook hands with me, +pressed wine on me, called me by my Christian name, and inquired what I +was doing in my profession. It was certainly something that had a trick +of looking like my former comrade and brother; something that nobody in +my situation could have complained of with the smallest reason; something +with all the brightness of the old metal about it, but without the +sterling old ring; something, in short, which made me instinctively take +my chamber-candlestick early on the first night of my arrival, and say +good night while the beautiful woman and pattern wife was present to keep +her eye on me. + +Can I ever forget the language of that eye on that occasion!--the volumes +it spoke in one glance of cruel triumph! "No more sacred secrets between +you two," it said, brightly. "When you trust him now, you must trust me. +You may sacrifice yourself for your love of him over and over again still, +but he shall make no sacrifices now for you, until he has first found out +how they affect my convenience and my pleasure. Your place in his heart +now, is where I choose it to be. I have stormed the citadel, and I will +bring children by-and-by to keep the ramparts; and you, the faithful old +soldier of former years--you have got your discharge, and may sit and sun +yourself as well as you can at the outer gates. You have been his truest +friend, but he has another now, and need trouble you no longer, except in +the capacity of witness of his happiness. This, you will observe, is in +the order of nature, and in the recognised fitness of things; and he hopes +you will see it--and so do I. And he trusts you will sleep well under his +(and my) new roof--and so do I. And he wishes you good night--and so do +I!" + +Many, many years have passed since I first learned these hard truths; +but I can never forget the pang that it cost me to get them by heart at +a moment's notice. My old friend lives still--that is to say, I have an +intimate acquaintance, who asks me to all his dinners, and who made me +godfather to one of his children; but the brother of my love, who died +to me on the day when I paid him the marriage visit, has never come back +to life since that time. On the altar at which we two once sacrificed, +the ashes lie cold. A model husband and father has risen from them, and +that result is, I suppose, the only one that any third person has a right +to expect. It may be so; but, to this day, I cannot help thinking that +the beautiful woman would have done better if she could have made a fond +husband, without at the same time marring a good friend. + +Readers will, I am afraid, not be wanting, who will be inclined to tell +me that the lady to whom I have been referring, only asserted the fair +privilege that was hers by right of marriage; and that my sense of injury +springs from the touchy selfishness of an old bachelor. Without attempting +to defend myself, I may at least be allowed to inquire into the lady's +motive for using her privilege--or, in plainer terms, for altering the +relations in which my friend and I had stood towards one another since +boyhood. + +Her idea, I presume to have been, that, if I preserved my old footing +with her husband, I should be taking away some part of his affection that +belonged to her. According to my idea of it, she was taking away something +which had belonged to me, and which no effort on her part could afterwards +convert to her own use. It is hard to make some women understand that a +husband's heart--let him be ever so devoted and affectionate--has vacant +places in it which they can never hope to fill. It is a house in which +they and their children, naturally and properly, occupy all the largest +apartments and supply all the prettiest furniture; but there are spare +rooms which they cannot enter, which are reserved all through the lease +of life for inevitable guests of some sort from the world outside. It is +better to let in the old friend than some of the substituted visitors, who +are sure, sooner or later, to enter where there are rooms ready for them, +by means of pass-keys obtained without the permission of the permanent +tenants. Am I wrong in making such assertions as these? I should be +willing enough to think it probable--being only a bachelor--if my views +were based on mere theory. But my opinions, such as they are, have been +formed with the help of proofs and facts. I have met with bright examples +of wives who have strengthened their husbands' friendships as they never +could have been strengthened except under the influence of a woman's +care, employed in the truest, the tenderest, the most delicate way. I +have seen men rescued from the bad habits of half a lifetime by the luck +of keeping faithful friends who were the husbands of sensible wives. It +is a very trite and true remark that the deadliest enmities between men +have been occasioned by women. It is not less certain--though it is a +far less widely-accepted truth--that some (I wish I could say many) of +the strongest friendships have been knit most closely by women's helping +hands. + +The real fact seems to be, that the general idea of the scope and purpose +of the Institution of Marriage is a miserably narrow one. The same +senseless prejudice which leads some people, when driven to extremes, to +the practical confession (though it may not be made in plain words) that +they would rather see murder committed under their own eyes, than approve +of any project for obtaining a law of divorce which shall be equal in its +operation on husbands and wives of all ranks who cannot live together, +is answerable also for the mischievous error in principle of narrowing +the practice of the social virtues, in married people, to themselves and +their children. A man loves his wife--which is, in other words, loving +himself--and loves his offspring, which is equivalent to saying that he +has the natural instincts of humanity; and, when he has gone thus far, +he has asserted himself as a model of all the virtues of life, in the +estimation of some people. In my estimation, he has only begun with the +best virtues, and has others yet to practise before he can approach to the +standard of a socially complete man. Can there be a lower idea of Marriage +than the idea which makes it, in fact, an institution for the development +of selfishness on a large and respectable scale? If I am not justified in +using the word selfishness, tell me what character a good husband presents +(viewed plainly as a man) when he goes out into the world, leaving all +his sympathies in his wife's boudoir, and all his affections up-stairs +in the nursery, and giving to his friends such shreds and patches of +formal recognition, in place of true love and regard, as consist in asking +them to an occasional dinner-party, and granting them the privilege of +presenting his children with silver mugs? He is a model of a husband, the +ladies will say. I dare not contradict them; but I should like to know +whether he is also a model of a friend? + +No. Bachelor as I am, I have a higher idea of Marriage than this. The +social advantages which it is fitted to produce ought to extend beyond +one man and one woman, to the circle of society amid which they move. +The light of its beauty must not be shut up within the four walls which +enclose the parents and the family, but must flow out into the world, and +shine upon the childless and the solitary, because it has warmth enough +and to spare, and because it may make them, even in their way, happy too. +I began these few lines by asking sympathy and attention for the interest +which a man's true friends have, when he marries, in his choosing a wife +who will let them be friends still, who will even help them to mingling in +closer brotherhood, if help they need. I lay down the pen, suggesting to +some ladies--affectionately suggesting, if they will let me use the word, +after some of the bold things I have said--that it is in their power to +deprive the bachelor of the sole claim he has left to social recognition +and preeminence, by making married men what many of them are, and what +more might be--the best and truest friends that are to be found in the +world. + + + + +SOCIAL GRIEVANCES.--V. + +MRS. BULLWINKLE. + + +Ladies and gentlemen. Give me five minutes' sympathy and attention. I have +something serious to say to you. + +I am a married man, with an income which is too miserably limited to be +worth mentioning. About a month since, my wife advanced me one step nearer +to the Court for the Relief of Insolvent Debtors, by presenting me with +another child. On five previous occasions, her name had appeared in the +List of British Mothers which adorns the daily Supplement of the Times +newspaper. At each of these trying periods (I speak entirely of myself +when I use the word "trying") she was attended by the same Monthly Nurse. +On this last, and sixth, occasion, we were not so fortunate as to secure +the services of our regular functionary. She was already engaged; and a +new Nurse, with excellent recommendations, was, therefore, employed in +her stead. When I first heard of her, and was told that her name was Mrs. +Bullwinkle, I laughed. It was then the beginning of the month. It is now +the end of it, and I write down that once comical name with a settled +gravity which nothing can disturb. + +We all know Mrs. Gamp. My late Monthly Nurse is the exact antipodes of +her. Mrs. Bullwinkle is tall and dignified; her complexion is fair; her +Grecian nose is innocent of all convivial colouring; her figure is not +more than agreeably plump; her manners are icily composed; her dress is +quiet and neat; her age cannot be more than five-and-thirty; her style +of conversation, when she talks, is flowing and grammatical--upon the +whole, she appears to be a woman who is much too ladylike for her station +in life. When I first met Mrs. Bullwinkle on the stairs, I felt inclined +to apologise for my wife's presumption in engaging her services. Though I +checked this absurd impulse, I could not resist answering the new nurse's +magnificent curtsy by expressing a polite hope that she would find her +situation everything that she could wish, under my roof. + +"I am not accustomed to exact much, sir," said Mrs. Bullwinkle. "The cook +seems, I am rejoiced to say, to be an intelligent and attentive person. +I have been giving her some little hints on the subject of my meals. I +have ventured to tell her, that I eat little and often; and I think she +thoroughly understands me." + +I am ashamed to say I was not so sharp as the cook. I did not thoroughly +understand Mrs. Bullwinkle, until it became my duty, through my wife's +inability to manage our domestic business, to settle the weekly bills. I +then became sensible of an alarming increase in our household expenditure. +If I had given two dinner-parties in the course of the week, the bills +could not have been more exorbitant: the butcher, the baker, and the +grocer could not have taken me at a heavier pecuniary disadvantage. My +heart sank as I thought of my miserable income. I looked up piteously from +the bills to the cook for an explanation. + +The cook looked back at me compassionately, shook her head, and said: + +"Mrs. Bullwinkle." + +I reckoned up additional joints, additional chops, additional steaks, +fillets, kidneys, gravy beef. I told off a terrible supplement to the +usual family consumption of bread, flour, tea, sugar, and alcoholic +liquids. I appealed to the cook again; and again the cook shook her head, +and said, "Mrs. Bullwinkle." + +My miserable income obliges me to look after sixpences, as other men look +after five-pound notes. Ruin sat immovable on the pile of weekly bills, +and stared me sternly in the face. I went up into my wife's room. The new +nurse was not there. The unhappy partner of my pecuniary embarrassments +was reading a novel. My innocent infant was smiling in his sleep. I had +taken the bills with me. Ruin followed them up-stairs, and sat spectral +on one side of the bed, while I sat on the other. + +"Don't be alarmed, love," I said, "if you hear the police in the house. +Mrs. Bullwinkle has a large family, and feeds them all out of our +provisions. A search shall be instituted, and slumbering Justice shall be +aroused. Look at these joints, these chops, these steaks, these fillets, +these kidneys, these gravy beefs!" + +My wife shook her head, exactly as the cook had shaken hers; and answered, +precisely as the cook had answered, "Mrs. Bullwinkle." + +"But where does she hide it all?" I exclaimed. + +My wife shut her eyes, and shuddered. + +"John!" she said, "I have privately consulted the doctor; and the doctor +says Mrs. Bullwinkle is a Cow." + +"If the doctor had to pay these bills," I retorted savagely, "he would +not be quite so free with his jokes." + +"He is in earnest, dear. He explained to me, what I never knew before, +that a Cow is an animal with many stomachs----" + +"What!" I cried out, in amazement; "do you mean to tell me that all these +joints, these chops, these steaks, these fillets, these kidneys, these +gravy beefs--these loaves, these muffins, these mixed biscuits--these +teas, these sugars, these brandies, gins, sherries, and beers, have +disappeared in one week, down Mrs. Bullwinkle's throat?" + +"All, John," said my wife, sinking back on the pillow with a groan. + +It was impossible to look at the bills and believe it. I questioned +and cross-questioned my wife, and still elicited nothing but the one +bewildering answer, "All, John." Determined--for I am a man of a logical +and judicial mind--to have this extraordinary and alarming case properly +investigated, I took out my pocket-book and pencil, and asked my wife if +she felt strong enough to make a few private entries for my satisfaction. +Finding that she willingly accepted the responsibility, I directed her +to take down, from her own personal investigation, a statement of Mrs. +Bullwinkle's meals, and of the time at which she partook of each of them, +for twenty-four hours, beginning with one morning and ending with another. +After making this arrangement, I descended to the parlour, and took +the necessary business measures for using the cook as a check upon her +mistress. Having carefully instructed her to enter, on the kitchen slate, +everything that was sent up to Mrs. Bullwinkle, for twenty-four hours, I +felt that my machinery for investigating the truth was now complete. If +the statement of the mistress, in bed on the second floor, agreed with the +statement of the cook, in the distant sphere of the kitchen, there could +be no doubt that I had obtained reliable information on the mysterious +subject of Mrs. Bullwinkle's meals. + +In due time, the two reports were sent in, and I had an opportunity of +understanding at last, what "eating little and often" really meant, in the +case of my wife's monthly nurse. Except in one particular, to be hereafter +adverted to, both statements agreed exactly. Here is the List, accompanied +by a correct time-table, of Mrs. Bullwinkle's meals, beginning with the +morning of Monday and ending with the morning of Tuesday. I certify, on my +honour as a British husband and housekeeper, that the copy is correctly +taken from my wife's entries in my pocket-book, checked impartially by +the cook's slate:[E] + +A.M. + +7. Breakfast.--Tea, Toast, Half-quartern Loaf, Butter, Eggs, Bacon. + +9.30. First Morning Snack.--A glass of pale Sherry, and a plate of +Mixed Biscuits. + +11. Second Morning Snack.--A Basin of Beef Tea, and a tumbler of +Brandy and Water. + +P.M. + +12.45. Dinner.--A Roast Loin of Mutton and Mashed Potatoes. With +Dinner, Ale, spiced and warmed. After Dinner, a tumbler of Hot Gin and +Water. + +P.M. + +3. Afternoon Snack.--A glass of pale Sherry, and a plate of Mixed +Biscuits. + +4.30. Tea and Muffins. + +7. Evening Snack.--Stewed Cheese, Toast, and a tumbler of Brandy and +Water. + +9. Supper.--Nice juicy Steak, and two glasses of Beer. Second +Course.--Stewed Cheese, and a tumbler of Gin and Water. + +ADDITIONAL PARTICULARS. (Not vouched for by the cook's slate.)--During +the night of Monday Mrs. Bullwinkle partook, at intervals, of Caudle. +At 4.30 A.M., on the morning of Tuesday, my wife was awakened by +hearing the nurse walking up and down the room, and sighing bitterly. +The following conversation then took place between them: + +_My Wife._--Are you ill? + +_Mrs. Bullwinkle._--No. Hungry. + +I can certify that the above List correctly, and even moderately, +represents Mrs. Bullwinkle's daily bill of fare, for one month. I can +assert, from my own observation, that every dish, at every hour of the +day, which went up to her full, invariably came down from her empty. Mrs. +Bullwinkle was not a wasteful eater. She could fully appreciate, in roast +meat, for example, the great value of "lean;" but she was not, on that +account, insensible to the humbler merits of fat, skin, and "outside." +All--emphatically, all--was fish that came to her net; and the net itself, +as I can personally testify, was never once over-weighted and never out of +order. I have watched, in the case of this perfectly unparalleled human +cormorant, for symptoms of apoplexy, or at least of visible repletion, +with a dreadful and absorbing interest; and have, on no occasion, been +rewarded by making the smallest discovery. Mrs. Bullwinkle was never, +while in my service, even so much as partially intoxicated. Her face was +never flushed; her articulation was never thickened; her brain was never +confused; her movements were never uncertain. After the breakfast, the two +morning snacks, and the dinner,--all occurring within the space of six +hours,--she could move about the room with unimpeded freedom of action; +could keep my wife and the baby in a state of the strictest discipline; +could curtsy magnificently, when the unoffending master, whom she was +eating out of house and home, entered the room, preserving her colour, her +equilibrium, and her staylaces, when she sank down and when she swelled up +again, without the vestige of an apparent effort. During the month of her +devastating residence under my roof, she had two hundred and forty-eight +meals, including the snacks; and she went out of the house no larger and +no redder than she came in. After the statement of one such fact as that, +further comment is superfluous. + +I leave this case in the hands of the medical and the married public. +I present it, as a problem, to physiological science. I offer it, as a +warning, to British husbands with limited incomes. While I write these +lines, while I give my married countrymen this friendly caution, my wife +is weeping over the tradesmen's bills; my children are on half-allowance +of food; my cook is worked off her legs; my purse is empty. Young +husbands, and persons about to marry, commit to memory the description +here given of my late monthly nurse! Avoid a tall and dignified woman, +with a flowing style of conversation and impressively ladylike manners! +Beware, my struggling friends, my fellow-toilers along the heavily-taxed +highways of domestic happiness--beware of Mrs. Bullwinkle! + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + + + [A] The curious legend connected with the birth of this "Adopted + Son," and the facts relating to his extraordinary career in after + life, are derived from the "Records" of the French Police of the + period. In this instance, and in the instances of those other + papers in the present collection which deal with foreign incidents + and characters, while the facts of each narrative exist in print, + the form in which the narrative is cast is of my own devising. If + these facts had been readily accessible to readers in general, the + papers in question would not have been reprinted. But the scarce + and curious books from which my materials are derived, have been + long since out of print, and are, in all human probability, never + likely to be published again. + + [B] The biographical facts mentioned in this little sketch, are + derived from Mr. Blanchard Jerrold's interesting narrative of his + father's Life and Labours. For the rest--that is to say, for the + opinions here expressed on Jerrold's works, and for the estimate + attempted of his personal character--I am responsible. This is the + only instance of a reprinted article in the present collection, + any part of which is founded on a modern and an accessible + book. The reader will perhaps excuse and understand my making an + exception here to my own rules, when I add that Douglas Jerrold + was one of the first and the dearest friends of my literary life. + + [C] When this article was first published in Household Words, + a son of Mr. Elliston wrote to the conductor to protest against + the epithets which I had attached to his father's name. In the + present reprint I have removed the epithets; not because I think + them undeserved, but because they merely represented my own angry + sense of Mr. Elliston's treatment of Jerrold--a sense which I have + no wish needlessly to gratify at the expense of a son's regard + for his father's memory. But the facts of the case as they were + originally related, and as I heard them from Jerrold himself, + remain untouched--exactly as my own opinion of Mr. Elliston's + conduct remains to this day unaltered. If the "impartial" reader + wishes to have more facts to decide on than those given in the + text, he is referred to Raymond's Life of Elliston--in which work + he will find the clear profits put into the manager's pocket by + Black-Eyed Susan, estimated at one hundred and fifty pounds a + week. + + [D] This paper, and the paper on Art entitled 'To Think, or Be + Thought For,' which immediately follows it, provoked, at the time + of their first appearance, some remonstrance both of the public + and the private sort. I was blamed--so far as I could understand + the objections--for letting out the truth about the Drama, and + for speaking my mind (instead of keeping it to myself, as other + people did) on the subject of the Old Masters. Finding, however, + that my positions remained practically unrefuted, and that my + views were largely shared by readers with no professional interest + in theatres, and no vested critical rights in old pictures--and + knowing, besides, that I had not written without some previous + inquiry and consideration--I held steadily to my own convictions; + and I hold to them still. These articles are now reprinted (as + they were originally produced) to serve two objects which I + persist in thinking of some importance:--Freedom of inquiry into + the debased condition of the English Theatre; and freedom of + thought on the subject of the Fine Arts. + + [E] This time-table is no invention of mine. It is accurately + copied from an "original document" sent to me by the victim of a + monthly nurse. + + + + + THE END. + + + + + LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFORD STREET, + AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's My Miscellanies, Vol. 2 (of 2), by Wilkie Collins + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44350 *** |