[Transcriber's Notes: Text that was in italics in the original book isshown between _underscore characters_ and text that was in small capsis shown as ALL CAPS. Footnotes from the article titles are at the endof the first paragraph of the article; all others follow the paragraphin which they are referenced. The variation in the spelling of somewords is maintained from the original. ]

 THE UNCOLLECTED WRITINGS OF THOMAS DE QUINCEY. 

 WITH A PREFACE AND ANNOTATIONS BY JAMES HOGG. 

 IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. 

 [Illustration]

 LONDON: SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO. , PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 

 1890. 

 RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY. 

CONTENTS. 

 PAGETHE ENGLISH IN CHINA. 7

SHAKSPERE'S TEXT. --SUETONIUS UNRAVELLED. 37

HOW TO WRITE ENGLISH. 55

THE CASUISTRY OF DUELLING. 65

THE LOVE-CHARM. 113

LUDWIG TIECK. 153

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. --THE HOUSE OF WEEPING. 160

THE HOUSEHOLD WRECK. 173

MR. SCHNACKENBERGER; OR, TWO MASTERS FOR ONE DOG. 279

ANGLO-GERMAN DICTIONARIES. 348

THE ENGLISH IN CHINA. 

This Paper, originally written for me in 1857, and published in _Titan_for July of that year, has not appeared in any collective edition of theauthor's works, British or American. It was his closing contribution toa series of three articles concerning Chinese affairs; prepared when ourtroubles with that Empire seemed to render war imminent. The first twowere given in _Titan_ for February and April, 1857, and then issued withadditions in the form of a pamphlet which is now very scarce. Itconsisted of 152 pages thus arranged:--(1) Preliminary Note, i-iv; (2)Preface, pp. 3-68; (3) China (the two _Titan_ papers), pp. 69-149; (4)Postscript, pp. 149-152. 

In the posthumous supplementary volume (XVI. ) of the collected works the_third section_ was reprinted, but all the other matter wasdiscarded--with a rather imperfect appreciation of the labour which theauthor had bestowed upon it, and his own estimate of the value of whathe had condensed in this Series--as frequently expressed to me duringits progress. 

In the twelfth volume of the 'Riverside' Edition of De Quincey's works, published by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. , Boston, U. S. A. , the whole of the 152pp. Of the expanded _China_ reprint are given, but not the final sectionhere reproduced from _Titan_. 

The Chinese questions stirred DE QUINCEY profoundly, and roused all the'John Bullism' of his nature. Two passages from the 'Preliminary Note'will show his object in throwing so much energy into this subject:--

NATIONAL MORALITY. 

'Its purpose[1] is to diffuse amongst those of the middle classes, whosedaily occupations leave them small leisure for direct personalinquiries, some sufficient materials for appreciating the _justice_ ofour British pretensions and attitude in our coming war with China. It isa question frequently raised amongst public journalists, whether weBritish are entitled to that exalted distinction which sometimes weclaim for ourselves, and which sometimes is claimed on our behalf, byneutral observers on the national practice of morality. There is no callin this place for so large a discussion; but, most undoubtedly, in onefeature of so grand a distinction, in one reasonable presumption forinferring a profounder national conscientiousness, as diffused among theBritish people, stands upon record, in the pages of history, thismemorable fact, that always at the opening (and at intervals throughoutthe progress) of any war, there has been much and angry discussionamongst us British as to the equity of its origin, and the moralreasonableness of its objects. Whereas, on the Continent, no man everheard of a question being raised, or a faction being embattled, upon anydemur (great or small) as to the moral grounds of a war. To be able toface the trials of a war--_that_ was its justification; and to winvictories--_that_ was its ratification for the conscience. '

[1] That is--the publication of the pamphlet. --H. 

CHINESE POLICY. 

'The dispute at Shanghai, in 1848, equally as regards the origin of thatdispute, and as regards the Chinese mode of conducting it, will give thereader a key to the Chinese character and the Chinese policy. To beginby making the most arrogant resistance to the simplest demands ofjustice, to end by cringing in the lowliest fashion before the guns of alittle war-brig, there we have, in a representative abstract, theChinese system of law and gospel. The equities of the present war arebriefly summed up in this one question: What is it that our brutal enemywants from us? Is it some concession in a point of international law, orof commercial rights, or of local privilege, or of traditional usage, that the Chinese would exact? Nothing of the kind. It is simply alicense, guaranteed by ourselves, to call us in all proclamations byscurrilous names; and secondly, with our own consent, to inflict uponus, in the face of universal China, one signal humiliation.... Us--thefreemen of the earth by emphatic precedency--us, the leaders ofcivilisation, would this putrescent[2] tribe of hole-and-cornerassassins take upon themselves, not to force into entering by an ignoblegate [the reference here is to a previous passage concerning the lowdoor by which Spanish fanaticism ordained that the _Cagots_ (lepers) ofthe Pyrenees should enter the churches in a stooping attitude], but toexclude from it altogether, and for ever. Briefly, then, for thislicensed scurrility, in the first place; and, in the second, for thisfoul indignity of a spiteful exclusion from a right four times securedby treaty, it is that the Chinese are facing the unhappy issues of war. '

[2] _Putrescent. _ See the recorded opinions of Lord Amherst's suite uponthe personal cleanliness of the Chinese. 

 * * * * *

The position and outcome of matters in those critical years may berecalled by a few lines from the annual summaries of _The Times_ on theNew Years' days of 1858 and 1859. These indicate that DE QUINCEY washere a pretty fair exponent of the growing wrath of the English people. 

[_January 1, 1858. _]

'The presence of the China force on the Indian Seas was especiallyfortunate. The demand for reinforcements at Calcutta (caused by theIndian Mutiny) was obviously more urgent than the necessity forpunishing the insolence at Canton. At a more convenient season thenecessary operations in China will be resumed, and in the meantime theblockading squadron has kept the offending population from despising theresentment of England. The interval which has elapsed has served toremove all reasonable doubt of the necessity of enforcing redress. Public opinion has not during the last twelvemonth become more tolerantof barbarian outrages. There is no reason to believe that the punishmentof the provincial authorities will involve the cessation of intercoursewith the remainder of the Chinese Empire. '

 * * * * *

[_January 1, 1859. _]

'The working of our treaties with China and Japan will be watched withcuriosity both in and out of doors, and we can only hope that nothing willbe done to blunt the edge of that masterly decision by which these twogiants of Eastern tale have been felled to the earth, and reduced to thelevel and bearing of common humanity. '

 * * * * *

The titles which follow are those which were given by DE QUINCEY himself tothe three Sections. --H. 

HINTS TOWARDS AN APPRECIATION OF THE COMING WAR IN CHINA. 

Said before the opening of July, that same warning remark may happen tohave a prophetic rank, and practically, a prophetic value, which twomonths later would tell for mere history, and history paid for by apainful experience. 

The war which is now approaching wears in some respects the strangestfeatures that have yet been heard of in old romance, or in prosaichistory, for we are at war with the southernmost province ofChina--namely, Quantung, and pre-eminently with its chief city ofCanton, but not with the other four commercial ports of China, nor; infact, at present with China in general; and, again, we are at war withYeh, the poisoning Governor of Canton, but (which is strangest of all)not with Yeh's master--the Tartar Emperor--locked up in a far-distantPeking. 

Another strange feature in this war is--the footing upon which ouralliances stand. For allies, it seems, we are to have; nominal, asregards the costs of war, but real and virtual as regards its profits. The French, the Americans, [3] and I believe the Belgians, have pushedforward (absolutely in post-haste advance of ourselves) their severaldiplomatic representatives, who are instructed duly to lodge theirclaims for equal shares of the benefits reaped by our British fighting, but with no power to contribute a single file towards the bloodshed ofthis war, nor a single guinea towards its money costs. Napoleon I. , in acraze of childish spite towards this country, pleased himself withdenying the modern heraldic bearings of Great Britain, and resuscitatingthe obsolete shield of our Plantagenets; he insisted that our truearmorial ensigns were the leopards. But really the Third Napoleon isputting life and significance into his uncle's hint, and using us, as inHindostan they use the cheeta or hunting-leopard, for rousing andrunning down his oriental game. It is true, that in certain desperatecircumstances, when no opening remains for pacific negotiation, theseFrench and American agents are empowered to send home for militarysuccours. A worshipful prospect, when we throw back our eyes upon ourown share in these warlike preparations, with all the advantages of anunparalleled marine. Six months have slipped away since Lord Clarendon, our Foreign Secretary, received, in Downing Street, Sir J. Bowring'sand Admiral Seymour's reports of Yeh's atrocities. Six calendar months, not less, but more, by some days, have run past us since then; andthough some considerable part of our large reinforcements must havereached their ground in April, and even the commander-in-chief (Sir JohnAshburnham) by the middle of May, yet, I believe, that many of thegun-boats, on which mainly will rest the pursuit of Yeh's junks, if anyremain unabsconded northwards, have actually not yet left our ownshores. The war should naturally have run its course in one campaign. Assuredly it will, if confined within the limits of Yeh's command, evensupposing that command to comprehend the two Quangs. Practically, then, it is a fantastic impossibility that any reversionary service to ourBritish expedition, which is held out in prophetic vision asconsecrating our French and American friends from all taint of mercenaryselfishness, ever can be realised. I am not going to pursue thissubject. But a brief application of it to a question at this moment(June 16) urgently appealing to public favour is natural and fair. Canvassers are now everywhere moving on behalf of a ship canal acrossthe Isthmus of Suez. This canal proposes to call upon the subscribersfor £9, 000, 000 sterling; the general belief is, that first and last itwill call for £12, 000, 000 to £15, 000, 000. But at that price, or at anyprice, it is cheap; and ultimate failure is impossible. Why do I mentionit? Everywhere there is a rumour that 'a narrow jealousy' in London isthe bar which obstructs this canal speculation. There is, indeed, andalready before the canal proposal there _was_, a plan in motion for a_railway_ across the isthmus, which seems far enough from meeting thevast and growing necessities of the case. But be _that_ as it may, withwhat right does any man in Europe, or America, impute narrowness ofspirit, local jealousy, or selfishness, to England, when he calls tomind what sacrifices she is at this moment making for those veryoriental interests which give to the ship canal its sole value--the men, the ships, the money spent, or to _be_ spent, upon the Canton war, andthen in fairness connects that expense (or the similar expense made byher in 1840-42) with the operative use to which, in those years, sheapplied all the diplomatic concessions extorted by her arms. The firstword--a memorable word--which she uttered on proposing her terms in1842, was, What I demand for myself, _that_ let all Christendom enjoy. And since that era (_i. E. _, for upwards of fourteen years) allChristendom, that did not fail in the requisite energy for improving theopportunities then first laid open, _has_ enjoyed the very sameadvantages in Chinese ports as Great Britain; secondly, without havingcontributed anything whatever to the winning or the securing of theseadvantages; thirdly, on the pure volunteer intercession made by Britainon their behalf. The world has seen enough of violence and cruelties, the most bloody in the service of commercial jealousies, and nowheremore than in these oriental regions: witness the abominable acts of theDutch at Amboyna, in Japan, and in Java, &c. ; witness the bigotedoppressions, where and when soever they had power, of the colonisingPortuguese and Spaniards. Tyranny and merciless severities for the ruinof commercial rivals have been no rarities for the last three and a halfcenturies in any region of the East. But first of all, from GreatBritain in 1842 was heard the free, spontaneous proclamation--this was ararity--unlimited access, with advantages the very same as her own, to acommerce which it was always imagined that she laboured to hedge roundwith repulsions, making it sacred to her own privileged use. A royalgift was this; but a gift which has not been received by Christendom ina corresponding spirit of liberal appreciation. One proof of _that_ maybe read in the invidious statement, supported by no facts or names, which I have just cited. Were this even true, a London merchant is nottherefore a Londoner, or even a Briton. Germans, Swiss, Frenchmen, &c. , are settled there as merchants, in crowds. No nation, however, iscompromised by any act of her citizens acting as separate anduncountenanced individuals. So that, even if better established as afact, this idle story would still be a calumny; and as a calumny itwould merit little notice. Nevertheless, I have felt it prudent to giveit a prominent station, as fitted peculiarly, by the dark shadows of itsmalice, pointed at our whole nation collectively, to call into morevivid relief the unexampled lustre of that royal munificence in England, which, by one article of a treaty, dictated at the point of herbayonets, threw open in an hour, to all nations, that Chinese commerce, never previously unsealed through countless generations of man. 

[3] '_America_:'--For America in particular there is an Americandefence offered in a Washington paper (the _Weekly Union_, for May 28, 1857), which, for cool ignoring of facts, exceeds anything that Iremember. It begins thus:--'Since our treaty with China in 1844' (and_that_, be it remembered, was possible only in consequence of our warand its close in 1842), 'the most amicable relations have existedbetween the United States and China--China is our friend, and we arehers. ' Indeed! as a brief commentary upon that statement, I recommend tothe reader's attention our Blue-books on China of last winter. TheAmerican commander certainly wound up his quarrel with Yeh in amysterious way, that drew some sneers from the various nationalitiesthen moving in that neighbourhood, but no less certainly he had, duringthe October of 1856, a smart exchange of cannon-shots with Yeh, whichlasted for some days (three, at least, according to my remembrance), andended in the capture of numerous Chinese forts. The American apologistsays in effect, that the United States will not fight, because they haveno quarrel. But that is not the sole question. Does the United Statesmean to take none of the benefits that may be won by our arms? He speaksof the French as more belligerently inclined than the United States. Would that this were really so. No good will come of schisms between thenations of Christendom. There is a posthumous work of Commissioner Lin, in twelve quartos, printed at Peking, urgently pressing the necessityfor China of building upon such schisms the one sole policy that cansave her from ruin. 

Next, then, having endeavoured to place these preliminary points intheir true light, I will anticipate the course by which the campaignwould naturally be likely to travel, supposing no alien and mischievousdisturbance at work for deranging it. Simply to want fighting allieswould be no very menacing evil. We managed to do without them in ourpretty extensive plan of warfare fifteen years ago; and there is noreason why we should find our difficulties now more intractable thanthen. I should imagine that the American Congress and the FrenchExecutive would look on uneasily, and with a sense of shame, at theprospect of sharing largely in commercial benefits which they had notearned, whilst the burdens of the day were falling exclusively upon thetroops of our nation; but _that_ is a consideration for their ownfeelings, and may happen to corrode their hearts and their sense ofhonour most profoundly at some future time, when it may have ceased tobe remediable. If that were all, for us there would be no arrears ofmortified sensibilities to apprehend. But what is ominous even inrelation to ourselves from these professedly inert associates, thesesleeping partners in our Chinese dealings, is, that their presence withno active functions argues a faith lurking somewhere in the possibilityof _talking_ the Chinese into reason. Such a chimera, still survivingthe multiform experience we have had, augurs ruin to the totalenterprise. It is not absolutely impossible that even Yeh, or anyimbecile governor armed with the same obstinacy and brutal arrogance, might, under the terrors of an armament such as he will have to face, simulate a submission that was far from his thoughts. We ourselves foundin the year 1846, when in fidelity to our engagements we gave back theimportant island of Chusan, which we had retained for four years, infact until all the instalments of the ransom money had been paid, that amore negligent ear was turned to our complaints and remonstrances. Thevile mob of Canton, long kept and indulged as so many trained bull-dogs, for the purpose of venting that insolence to Europeans which themandarins could no longer utter personally without coming into collisionwith the treaty, became gradually unmanageable even by their masters. In1847 Lord Palmerston, then Foreign Secretary, was reduced to thenecessity of fulminating this passage against the executive governmentof the murdering city--'You' (Lord Palmerston was addressing Sir JohnDavis, at that time H. M. Plenipotentiary in China) 'will inform theChinese authorities, in plain and distinct terms, that the BritishGovernment will not tolerate that a Chinese mob shall with impunitymaltreat British subjects in China, whenever they get them into theirpower; and that if the Chinese authorities will not punish and preventsuch outrages, the British Government will be obliged to take the matterinto their own hands; and it will not be _their_ fault if, in such case, the innocent are involved in the punishment sought to be inflicted onthe guilty. '

This commanding tone was worthy of Lord Palmerston, and in harmony withhis public acts in all cases where he has understood the ground whichhe occupied. Unhappily he did _not_ understand the case of Canton. TheBritish were admitted by each successive treaty, their right of entrywas solemnly acknowledged by the emperor. Satisfied with this, LordPalmerston said, 'Enough: the principle is secured; the mere details, locally intelligible no doubt, I do not pretend to understand. But allthis will come in time. In time you will be admitted into Canton. Andfor the present rest satisfied with having your right admitted, if notas yet your persons. ' Ay, but unfortunately nothing short of plenaryadmission to British flesh and blood ever will satisfy the organisedruffians of Canton, that they have not achieved a triumph over theBritish; which triumph, as a point still open to doubt amongstmischief-makers, they seek to strengthen by savage renewal as often asthey find a British subject unprotected by armed guardians within theirstreets. In those streets murder walks undisguised. And the only measurefor grappling with it is summarily to introduce the British resident, toprostrate all resistance, and to punish it by the gallows[4] where itproceeds to acts of murder. It is sad consideration for those, either inEngland or China, who were nearly or indirectly connected with Canton(amongst whom must be counted the British Government), that beyond adoubt the murders of our countrymen, which occurred in that city, wouldhave been intercepted by such a mastery over the local ruffians as couldnot be effected so long as the Treaty of Nanking was not carried intoeffect with respect to free entrance and residence of British subjects. As things stood, all that Sir J. Davis could do, in obedience to thedirections from the Home Government, was to order a combined naval andmilitary attack upon all the Chinese forts which belt the approaches toCanton. These were all captured; and the immense number of eight hundredand twenty-seven heavy guns were in a few hours made unserviceable, either by knocking off their trunnions, or by spiking them, or in bothways. The Imperial Commissioner, Keying, previously known so favourablyto the English by his good sense and discretion, had on this occasionthought it his best policy to ignore Lord Palmerston's letter: a copyhad been communicated to him; but he took not the least notice of it. Ifthis were intended for insolence, it was signally punished within a fewhours. It happened that on our English list of grievances there remaineda shocking outrage offered to Colonel Chesney, a distinguished officerof the engineers, [5] and which to a certainty would have terminated inhis murder, but for the coming up at the critical moment of a Chinese inhigh authority. The villains concerned in this outrage were known, werearrested, and (according to an agreement with our plenipotentiary) wereto be punished in our presence. But in contempt of all his engagements, and out of pure sycophantic concession to the Canton mob, Keyingnotified that we the injured party were to be excluded. _In that case nopunishment at all would have been inflicted. _ Luckily, our troops andour shipping had not yet dispersed. Sir J. Davis, therefore, wrote toKeying, openly taxing him with his breach of honour. 'I _was_ going'[these were Sir John's words] 'to Hong-Kong to-morrow; but since youbehave with evasion and bad faith, in not punishing the offenders inthe presence of deputed officers, I shall keep the troops at Canton, andproceed to-morrow in the steamer to Foshan, where, if I meet withinsult, I will burn the town. ' Foshan is a town in the neighbourhood ofCanton, and happened to be the scene of Colonel Chesney's ill usage. Now, upon this vigorous step, what followed? Hear Sir John:--'Towardsmidnight a satisfactory reply was received, and at five o'clock nextmorning three offenders were brought to the guard-house--a mandarin ofhigh rank being present on the part of the Chinese, and deputed officerson the part of the British. The men were bambooed in succession by theChinese officers of justice;' and at the close of the scene, themandarin (upon a requisition from our side) explained to the mob whocrowded about the barriers _why_ the men were punished, and warned themthat similar chastisement for similar offences awaited themselves. Inone point only the example made was unsatisfactory: the men punishedwere not identified as the same who had assaulted Colonel Chesney. Theymight be criminals awaiting punishment for some other offence. With soshuffling a government as the Chinese, always moving through darkness, and on the principles of a crooked policy, no perfect satisfaction mustever be looked for. But still, what a bright contrast between thisenergy of men acquainted with the Chinese character, and the foolishimbecility of our own government in Downing Street, who are alwaysattempting the plan of soothing and propitiating by concession thoseignoble Orientals, in whose eyes all concession, great or small, through the whole scale of graduation, is interpreted as a distinctconfession of weakness. Thus did all our governments: thus, above allothers, did the East India Company for generations deal with theChinese; and the first act of ours that ever won respect from China wasAnson's broadsides, and the second was our refusal of the _ko-tou_. Thusdid our Indian Government, in the early stages of their intercourse, deal with the Burmese. Thus did our government deal with theJapanese--an exaggerated copy of the Chinese. What they wanted withJapan was simply to do her a very kind and courteous service--namely, toreturn safe and sound to their native land seven Japanese who had beendriven by hurricanes in continued succession into the Pacific, and hadultimately been saved from death by British sailors. Our wise governmentat home were well aware of the atrocious inhospitality practisedsystematically by these cruel islanders; and what course did they taketo propitiate them? Good sense would have prescribed the course ofarming the British vessel in so conspicuous a fashion as to inspire thewholesome respect of fear. Instead of which, our government actuallydrew the teeth of the particular vessel selected, by carefullywithdrawing each individual gun. The Japanese cautiously sailed roundher, ascertained her powerless condition, and instantly proceeded toforce her away by every mode of insult; nor were the unfortunateJapanese _ever_ restored to their country. Now, contrast with thisendless tissue of imbecilities, practised through many generations byour blind and obstinate government (for such it really is in its modesof dealing with Asiatics), the instantaneous success of 'sharppractice' and resolute appeals to _fear_ on the part of Sir John Davis. By midnight of the same day on which the British remonstrance had beenlodged an answer is received; and this answer, in a perfect rapture ofpanic, concedes everything demanded; and by sunrise the next morning thewhole affair has been finished. Two centuries, on our old East Indiansystem of negotiating with China, would not have arrived at the samepoint. Later in the very same year occurred another and more atrociousexplosion of Canton ruffianism; and the instantaneous retribution whichfollowed to the leading criminals, showed at once how great an advancehad been made in winning respect for ourselves, and in extorting ourrights, by this energetic mode of action. On Sunday, the 5th ofDecember, six British subjects had gone out into the country on apleasure excursion, some of whom unhappily carried pocket-pistols. Theywere attacked by a mob of the usual Canton character; one Chinese waskilled and one wounded by pistol-shots; but of the six British, encompassed by a countless crowd, not one escaped: all six weremurdered, and then thrown into the river. Immediately, and before theBritish had time to take any steps, the Chinese authorities were all inmotion. The resolute conduct of Sir John Davis had put an end to theChinese policy of shuffling, by making it no longer hopeful. It lostmuch more than it gained. And accordingly it was agreed, after a fewdays' debate, that the emperor's pleasure should not be taken, exceptupon the more doubtful cases. Four, about whose guilt no doubtsexisted, were immediately beheaded; and the others, after communicatingwith Peking, were punished in varying degrees--one or two capitally. 

[4] '_By the gallows:_'--Or much rather by decapitation. Accordingly, weread of a Ming (_i. E. _, native Chinese) emperor, who (upon findinghimself in a dreadfully small minority) retired into his garden with hisdaughter, and there hanged both himself and the lady. On no accountwould he have decapitated either; since in that case the corpses, beingheadless, would in Chinese estimation have been imperfect. 

[5] '_Colonel Chesney:_'--The same, I believe, whose name was at onetime so honourably known in connection with the Euphrates and its steamnavigation. 

CONDUCT OF THE WAR. 

Such is the condition of that guilty town, nearest of all Chinese townsto Hong-Kong, and indissolubly connected with ourselves. From this townit is that the insults to our flag, and the attempts at poisoning, wholesale and retail, have collectively emanated; and all under theoriginal impulse of Yeh. Surely, in speculating on the conduct of thewar, either as probable or as reasonable, the old oracular sentence ofCato the Elder and of the Roman senate (_Delenda est Carthago_) beginsto murmur in our ears--not in this stern form, but in some modification, better suited to a merciful religion and to our western civilization. Itis a great neglect on the part of somebody, that we have no account ofthe baker's trial at Hong-Kong. He was acquitted, it seems; but uponwhat ground? Some journals told us that he represented Yeh as coercinghim into this vile attempt, through his natural affection for hisfamily, alleged to be in Yeh's power at Canton. Such a fact, if true, would furnish some doubtful palliation of the baker's crime, and mighthave weight allowed in the sentence; but surely it would place a mostdangerous power in the hands of Chinese grandees, if, through theleverage of families within their grasp, and by official connivance onour part, they could reach and govern a set of agents in Hong-Kong. Nosympathy with our horror of secret murders by poison, under the shelterof household opportunities, must be counted on from the emperor, for hehas himself largely encouraged, rewarded, and decorated these claims onhis public bounty. The more necessary that such nests of crime asCanton, and such suggestors of crime as Yeh, should be thoroughlydisarmed. This could be done, as regards the city, by threechanges:--First, by utterly destroying the walls and gates; secondly, byadmitting the British to the freest access, and placing their residencein a special quarter, upon the securest footing; thirdly, and as onechief means in that direction, by establishing a police on an Englishplan, and to some extent English in its composition. As to the cost, itis evident enough that the colonial head-quarters at Hong-Kong must infuture keep up a _permanent_ military establishment; and since anydanger threatening this colony must be kindled and fed chiefly inCanton, why not make this large city, sole focus as it is of allmischief to us, and not a hundred miles distant from the little island, the main barrack of the armed force?

Upon this world's tariff of international connections, what is China inrelation to Great Britain? Free is she, or not--free to dissolve herconnection with us? Secondly, what is Great Britain, when commerciallyappraised, in relation to China? Is she of great value or slight valueto China? First, then, concerning China, viewed in its connection withourselves, this vast (but perhaps not proportionably populous) countryoffers by accident the same unique advantage for meeting a social_hiatus_ in our British system that is offered by certain southernregions in the American United States for meeting another _hiatus_within the same British system. Without tea, without cotton, GreatBritain, no longer great, would collapse into a very anomalous sort ofsecond-rate power. Without cotton, the main bulwark of our exportcommerce would depart. And without tea, our daily life would, generallyspeaking, be as effectually-ruined as bees without a Flora. In both ofthese cases it happens that the benefit which we receive is _unique_;that is, not merely ranking foremost upon a scale of similar benefitsreaped from other lands--a largest contribution where others might stillbe large--but standing alone, and in a solitude that we have alwaysreason to regard as alarming. So that, if Georgia, &c. , withdrew fromLiverpool and Manchester her myriads of cotton bales, palsied would beour commercial supremacy; and, if childish China should refuse her tea(for as to her silk, that is of secondary importance), we must all gosupperless to bed: seriously speaking, the social life of England wouldreceive a deadly wound. It is certainly a phenomenon without a parallelin the history of social man--that a great nation, numbering twenty-fivemillions, after making an allowance on account of those amongst the verypoorest of the Irish who do not use tea, should within one hundred yearshave found themselves able so absolutely to revolutionise their diet, asto substitute for the gross stimulation of ale and wine the mostrefined, elegant, and intellectual mode of stimulation that humanresearch has succeeded in discovering. [6] But the material basis of thisstimulation unhappily we draw from the soil of one sole nation--and thatnation (are we ever allowed to forget?) capricious and silly beyond allthat human experience could else have suggested as possible. In thesecircumstances, it was not to be supposed that we should neglect anyopening that offered for making ourselves independent of a nation whichat all times we had so much reason to distrust as the Chinese. Might notthe tea-plant be made to prosper in some district of our Indian Empire?Forty years ago we began to put forth organised botanical efforts forsettling that question. Forty years ago, and even earlier, according tomy remembrance, Dr Roxburgh--in those days the paramount authority uponoriental botany--threw some energy into this experiment for creating ourown nurseries of the tea-plant. But not until our Burmese victories, some thirty years since, and our consequent treaties had put theprovince of Assam into our power, was, I believe, any serious progressmade in this important effort. Mr Fortune has since applied the benefitsof his scientific knowledge, and the results of his own great personalexertions in the tea districts of China, to the service of this mostimportant speculation; with what success, I am not able to report. Meantime, it is natural to fear that the very possibility of doubtshanging over the results in an experiment so vitally national, carrieswith it desponding auguries as to the ultimate issue. Were the prospectsin any degree cheerful, it would be felt as a patriotic duty to reportat short intervals all solid symptoms of progress made in thisenterprise; for it is an enterprise aiming at a triumph far more thanscientific--a triumph over a secret purpose of the Chinese, full ofanti-social malice and insolence against Great Britain. Of late years, as often as we have accomplished a victory over any insult to ournational honour offered or meditated by the Chinese, they have recurredto some old historical tradition (perhaps fabulous, perhaps not), of anemperor, Tartar or Chinese, who, rather than submit to terms ofequitable reciprocity in commercial dealings with a foreign nation, orto terms implying an original equality of the two peoples, caused thewhole establishments and machinery connected with the particular trafficto be destroyed, and all its living agents to be banished or beheaded. It is certain that, in the contemplation of special contingencies likelyto occur between themselves and the British, the high mandarins dalliedat intervals with this ancient precedent, and forbore to act upon it, partly under the salutary military panic which has for years beengathering gloomily over their heads, but more imperatively, perhaps, from absolute inability to dispense with the weekly proceeds from thecustoms, so eminently dependent upon the British shipping. Money, mereweight of dollars, the lovely lunar radiance of silver, this was thespell that moonstruck their mercenary hearts, and kept them for eversee-sawing--

 'Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike. '

Now, upon this--a state of things suspected at times, or perhaps known, but not so established as that it could have been afterwards pleaded inevidence--a very grave question arose, but a question easily settled:had the Chinese a right, under the law of nations, to act upon theirmalicious caprice? No man, under any way of viewing the case, hesitatedin replying, '_No_. ' China, it was argued, had possessed from the firsta clear, undoubted right to dismiss us with our business unaccomplished, _re infectâ_, if that business were the establishment of a reciprocaltraffic. In the initial stage of the relations between the two powers, the field was open to any possible movement in either party; but, according to the course which might be severally pursued on either side, it was possible that one or both should so act as, in the second stageof their dealings, wilfully to forfeit this original liberty of action. Suppose, for instance, that China peremptorily declined all commercialintercourse with Britain, undeniably, it was said, she had the right todo so. But, if she once renounced this right, no matter whether_ex_plicitly in words, or silently and _im_plicitly in acts (as if, forexample, she looked on tranquilly whilst Great Britain erected elaboratebuildings for the safe housing of goods)--in any such case, Chinawilfully divested herself of all that original right to withdraw fromcommercial intercourse. She might say _Go_, or she might say, _Come_;but she could not first say, _Come_; and then, revoking this invitation, capriciously say, _Go_. 

[6] Down to George I. There _could_ have been no breakfast in England for agentleman or lady--there is none even yet in most parts of theContinent--without wine of some class or other. 

To this doctrine, thus limited, no man could reasonably demur. But to somepeople it has seemed that the limitations themselves are the only unsoundpart of the argument. It is denied that this original right of refusing acommercial intercourse has any true foundation in the relations of things orpersons. Vainly, if any such natural right existed, would that broad basishave been laid providentially for insuring intercourse among nations, which, in fact, we find everywhere dispersed. Such a narrow and selfishdistribution of natural gifts, all to one man, or all to one place, has in afirst stage of human inter-relations been established, only that men mightbe hurried forward into a second stage where this false sequestration mightbe unlocked and dispersed. Concentrated masses, impropriations gathered intoa few hands, useless alike to the possessor and to the world, why is itthat, by primary arrangements of nature, they have been frozen into vast, inert insulation? Only that the agencies of commerce may thus the moreloudly be invoked for thawing and setting them free to the world's use. Whereas, by a diffusive scattering, all motives to large social intercoursewould have been neutralised. 

It seems clear that the practical liberation and distribution throughout theworld of all good gifts meant for the whole household of man, has beenconfided to the secret sense of a _right_ existing in man for claiming sucha distribution as part of his natural inheritance. Many articles of almostinestimable value to man, in relation to his physical well-being (at anyrate bearing such a value when substitutional remedies were as yet unknown)such as mercury, Jesuit's bark, through a long period the sole remedy forintermitting fevers, opium, mineral waters, &c. , were at one time _locally_concentred. In such cases, it might often happen, that the medicinal reliefto an hospital, to an encampment, to a nation, might depend entirely uponthe right to _force_ a commercial intercourse. 

Now, on the other hand, having thus noticed the question, whatcommercial value has China irrevocably for England, next in the reversequestion--namely, what commercial value does England bear to China?--Iwould wish to place this in a new light, by bringing it for the firsttime into relation to the doctrine of rent. Multitudes in past days, when political economy was a more favoured study, have spoken andwritten upon the modern doctrine of rent, without apparently perceivinghow immediately it bears upon China, and how summarily it shatters anobjection constantly made to the value of our annual dealing with thatcountry. First, let me sketch, in the very briefest way, an outline ofthis modern doctrine. Two men, without communication, and almostsimultaneously, in the year 1815, discovered the law of rent. Suddenlyit struck them that all manufactured products of human industry mustnecessarily obey one law; whilst the products of land obey another andopposite law. Let us for a moment consider arable land as a naturalmachine for manufacturing bread. Now, in all manufactures depending uponmachinery of human invention, the natural progress is from the worsemachines to the better. No man lays aside a glove-making machine for aworse, but only for one that possesses the old powers at a less cost, orpossesses greater powers, let us suppose, at an equal cost. But, in thenatural progress of the bread-making machines, nature herself compelshim to pursue the opposite course: he travels from the best machines tothe worse. The best land is brought into cultivation first. Aspopulation expands, it becomes necessary to take up a second quality ofland; then a third quality; and so on for ever. Left to the action ofthis one law, bread would be constantly growing dearer through a longsuccession of centuries. Its tendency lies in this direction even now;but this tendency is constantly met, thwarted, and retarded, by acounter-tendency in the general practice of agriculture, which is alwaysslowly improving its own powers--that is, obtaining the same result at acost slowly decreasing. It follows as a consequence, when closelypursued, that, whilst the products of pure human skill and humanmachines are constantly, by tendency, growing cheaper, on the otherhand, by a counter-tendency, the products of natural machines (as theland, mines, rivers, &c. ) are constantly on the ascent. Anotherconsequence is, that the worst of these natural machines gives theprice for the whole; whereas, in a conflict between human machines, allthe products of the worse would be beaten out of the field by those ofthe better. It is in dependency upon this law that all those innumerableproposals for cultivating waste-lands, as in the Scottish Highlands, inthe Irish bogs, &c. , are radically vicious; and, instead of creatingplenty, would by their very success impoverish us. For suppose theselands, which inevitably must have been the lowest in the scale (or elsewhy so long neglected?) to be brought into tillage--what follows?Inevitably this: that their products enter the market as the very loweston the graduated tariff--_i. E. _, as lower than any already cultured. And these it is--namely, the very lowest by the supposition--that mustgive the price for the whole; so that _every_ number on the scale willrise at once to the level fixed by these lowest soils, so ruinously(though benevolently) taken up into active and efficient life. If youadd 20, 000 quarters of wheat to the amount already in the market, you_seem_ to have done a service; but, if these 20, 000 have been gained atan extra cost of half-a-crown on each quarter, and if these it is that, being from the poorest machines, rule the price, then you have addedhalf-a-crown to every quarter previously in the market. 

Meantime, returning to China, it is important to draw attention upon thispoint. A new demand for any product of land may happen to be not very large, and thus may seem not much to affect the markets, or the interests of thosewho produce it. But, since the rent doctrine has been developed, it hasbecome clear that a new demand may affect the producers in two separatemodes: first, in the ordinary known mode; secondly, by happening to callinto activity a lower quality of soil. A very moderate demand, nay, a verysmall one, added to that previously existing, if it happens not to fallwithin the powers of those numbers already in culture (as, suppose, 1, 2, 3, 4), must necessarily call out No. 5; and so on. 

Now, our case, as regards Chinese land in the tea districts, is far beyondthis. Not only has it been large enough to benefit the landholderenormously, by calling out lower qualities of land, which process again hasstimulated the counteracting agencies in the more careful and scientificculture of the plant; but also it has been in a positive sense enormous. Itmight have been large relatively to the power of calling out lower qualitiesof soil, and yet in itself have been small; but _our_ demand, running up atpresent to 100, 000, 000 pounds weight annually, is in all senses enormous. The poorer class of Chinese tea-drinkers use the leaves three timesover--_i. E. _, as the basis of three separate tea-makings. Consequently, even upon that single deduction, 60, 000, 000 of Chinese tea-drinkers countonly as 20, 000, 000 of ours. But I conclude, by repeating that the greatestof the impressions made by ourselves in the China tea districts, has beenderived from this--that, whilst the native demand has probably beenstationary, ours, moving by continual starts forward, must have stimulatedthe tea interest by continual descents upon inferior soils. 

There is no doubt that the Emperor and all his arrogant courtiers havedecupled their incomes from the British stimulation applied to inferiorsoils, that but for us never would have been called into culture. Not aman amongst them is aware of the advantages which he owes to England. But he soon _would_ be aware of them, if for five years this exoticdemand were withdrawn, and the tea-districts resigned to nativepatronage. Upon reviewing what I have said, not the ignorant andunteachable Chinese only, but some even amongst our own well-informedand reflecting people, will see that they have prodigiously underratedthe commercial value of England to China; since, when an Englishmancalls for a hundred tons of tea, he does not (as is usually supposed)benefit the Chinese merchant only by giving him the ordinary profit on aton, repeated for a hundred times, but also infallibly either calls intoprofitable activity lands lying altogether fallow, or else, under theaction of the rent laws, gives a new and secondary value to land alreadyunder culture. 

Other and greater topics connected with this coming Chinese campaignclamorously call for notice: especially these three:--

First, the pretended literature and meagre civilisation of China--whatthey are, and with what real effects such masquerading phantoms operateupon the generation with which accidents of commerce have brought usconnected. 

Secondly, what is the true mode of facing that warfare of kidnapping, garotting, and poisoning, avowed as legitimate subjects of patronage inthe practice and in the edicts of the Tartar Government? Two things maybe said with painful certainty upon this subject: first, the BritishGovernment has signally neglected its duties in this field through aperiod of about ninety years, and apparently is not aware of anyresponsibility attaching in such a case to those who wield the functionsof supreme power. Hyder Ali, the tiger, and his more ferocious sonTippoo, practised, in the face of all India, the atrocities of Virgil'sMezentius upon their British captives. These men filled the stage ofmartial history, through nearly forty years of the eighteenth century, with the tortures of the most gallant soldiers on earth, and were neverquestioned or threatened upon the subject. In this nineteenth century, again, we have seen a Spanish queen and her uncle sharing between themthe infamy of putting to death (unjudged and unaccused) British soldierson the idlest of pretences. Was it then in the power of the BritishGovernment to have made a vigorous and effectual intercession? It was;and in various ways they have the same power over the Chinese sovereign(still more over his agents) at present. The other thing which occurs tosay is this: that, if we do _not_ interfere, some morning we shallprobably all be convulsed with unavailing wrath at a repetition of MrStead's tragic end, on a larger scale, and exemplified in persons ofmore distinguished position. 

Finally, it would have remained to notice the vast approachingrevolution for the total East that will be quickened by this war, andwill be ratified by the broad access to the Orient, soon to be laid openon one plan or other. Then will Christendom first begin to _act_commensurately on the East: Asia will begin to rise from her ancientprostration, and, without exaggeration, the beginnings of a new earthand new heavens will dawn. 

SHAKSPERE'S TEXT. --SUETONIUS UNRAVELLED. 

_To the Editor of 'Titan'. _

Dear Sir, --A year or two ago, [7] I received as a present from adistinguished and literary family in Boston (United States), a smallpamphlet (twin sister of that published by Mr Payne Collier) on the textof Shakspere. Somewhere in the United States, as here in England, someunknown critic, at some unknown time, had, from some unknown source, collected and recorded on the margin of one amongst the Folio reprintsof Shakspere by Heminge & Condell, such new readings as either his ownsagacity had summarily prompted, or calm reflection had recommended, orpossibly local tradition in some instances, and histrionic tradition inothers, might have preserved amongst the _habitués_ of a particulartheatre. In Mr P. Collier's case, if I recollect rightly, it was the_First_ Folio (_i. E. _, by much the best); in this American case, Ithink it is the _Third_ Folio (about the worst) which had received thecorrections. But, however this may be, there are two literary_collaborateurs_ concerned in each of these parallel cases--namely, first, the original collector (possibly author) of the various readings, who lived and died probably within the seventeenth century; and, secondly, the modern editor, who stations himself as a repeatingfrigate that he may report and pass onwards these marginal variations tous of the nineteenth century. 

[7] Written in 1856. H. 

COR. For _Corrector_, is the shorthand designation by which I havedistinguished the _first_; REP. For _Reporter_ designates the other. Mywish and purpose is to extract all such variations of the text as seemto have any claim to preservation, or even, to a momentaryconsideration. But in justice to myself, and in apology for the hurriedway in which the several parts of this little memorandum are broughtinto any mimicry of order and succession, I think it right to say thatmy documents are all dispersed into alien and distant quarters; so thatI am reduced into dependence upon my own unassisted memory. 

[THE TEMPEST. _Act I. Scene 1. _

 'Not a soul But felt a fever of the mad, and play'd Some tricks of desperation. '

COR. Here substitutes, 'But felt a fever of the _mind_:' which substitutionstrikes me as entirely for the worse; 'a fever of the mad' is such a feveras customarily attacks the delirious, and all who have lost the control oftheir reasoning faculties. 

[_Ibid. _

 'O dear father, Make not too rash a trial of him; for He's gentle, and not fearful. '

Upon this the _Reporter's_ remark is, that 'If we take _fearful_ in itscommon acceptation of _timorous_, the proposed change renders the passageclearer;' but that, if we take the word _fearful_ in its rarersignification of _that which excites terror_, 'no alteration is needed. 'Certainly: none _is_ needed; for the mistake (as _I_ regard it) of REP. Liessimply in supposing the passive sense of _fearful_--namely, that which_suffers_ fear--to be the ordinary sense; which now, in the nineteenthcentury, it is; but was _not_ in the age of Shakspere. 

[MACBETH. _Scene 7. _

 'Thus even-handed justice _Commends_ the ingredients of our poison'd chalice To our own lips. '

COR. Proposes, _Returns_ the ingredients of, &c. ; and, after the word_returns_ is placed a comma; which, however, I suppose to be a pressoversight, and no element in the correction. Meantime, I see no call for anychange whatever. The ordinary use of the word _commend_, in any advantageousintroduction of a stranger by letters, seems here to maintainitself--namely, placing him in such a train towards winning favour as maygive a favourable bias to his opportunities. The opportunities are not leftto their own casual or neutral action, but are armed and pointed towards aspecial result by the influence of the recommender. So, also, it is heresupposed that amongst several chalices, which might else all have an equalpower to conciliate notice, one specially--namely, that which contains thepoison--is armed by Providence with a power to bias the choice, and commenditself to the poisoner's favour. 

[_Ibid. _

 'His two chamberlains Will I with wine and wassail so _convince_. '

COR. Is not happy at this point in his suggestion: tinkers are accused(often calumniously, for tinkers have enemies as well as other people) ofinsidiously enlarging holes, making simple into compound fractures, andsometimes of planting two holes where they find one. But I have it on thebest authority--namely, the authority of three tinkers who wereunanimous--that, if sometimes there is a little treachery of this kindamongst the profession, it is no more than would be pronounced 'in reason'by all candid men. And certainly, said one of the three, you wouldn't lookfor perfection in a tinker? Undoubtedly a seraphic tinker would be anunreasonable postulate; though, perhaps, the man in all England that camenearest to the seraphic character in one century _was_ a tinker--namely, John Bunyan. But, as my triad of tinkers urged, men of all professions _do_cheat at uncertain times, _are_ traitors in a small proportion, _must be_perfidious, unless they make an odious hypocritical pretension to thecharacter of angels. That tinkers are not alone in their practice ofmultiplying the blemishes on which their healing art is invoked, seemsbroadly illustrated by the practice of verbal critics. Those who haveapplied themselves to the ancient classics, are notorious for their corruptdealings in this way. And Coleridge founded an argument against the wholebody upon the confessedly dreadful failure of Bentley, prince of all theorder, when applied to a case where most of us could appreciate theresult--namely, to the _Paradise Lost_. If, said Coleridge, this Bentleycould err so extravagantly in a case of mother-English, what must we presumehim often to have done in Greek? Here we may see to this day that practicecarried to a ruinous extent, which, when charged upon tinkers, I have seencause to restrict. In the present case from _Macbeth_, I fear that COR. Isslightly indulging in this tinkering practice. As I view the case, therereally is no hole to mend. The old meaning of the word _convince_ is wellbrought out in the celebrated couplet--

 'He, that's convinc'd against his will, Is of the same opinion still. 

How can _that_ be? I have often heard objectors say. Being convinced by hisopponent--_i. E. _, convinced that his opponent's view is the right one--howcan he retain his own original opinion, which by the supposition is in polaropposition. But this argument rests on a false notion of the sense attachedoriginally to the word _convinced_. That word was used in the sense of_refuted; redargued_, the alternative word, was felt to be pedantic. Thecase supposed was that of a man who is reduced to an absurdity; he cannotdeny that, from his own view, an absurdity _seems_ to follow; and, until hehas shown that this absurdity is only apparent, he is bound to hold himself_provisionally_ answered. Yet that does not reconcile him to his adversary'sopinion; he retains his own, and is satisfied that somewhere an answer to itexists, if only he could discover it. 

Here the meaning is, 'I will convince his chamberlains with wine'--_i. E. _, will refute by means of the confusion belonging to the tragedy itself, whenaided by intoxication, all the arguments (otherwise plausible) which theymight urge in self-defence. 

 ['_Thrice_ and once the hedge-pig whined:'--

This our friend COR. Alters to _twice_; but for the very reason whichshould have checked him--namely, on Theobald's suggestion that '_odd_numbers are used in enchantments and magical operations;' and here hefancies himself to obtain an odd number by the arithmeticalsummation--_twice_ added to _once_ makes thrice. Meantime the odd number isalready secured by viewing the _whines_ separately, and not as a sum. Thehedge-pig whined thrice--that was an odd number. Again he whined, and thistime only once--this also was an odd number. Otherwise COR. Is perfectlyright in his general doctrine, that

 'Numero Deus _impare_ gaudet. '

Nobody ever heard of _even_ numbers in any case of divination. A dog, forinstance, howling under a sick person's window, is traditionally ominous ofevil--but not if he howls twice, or four times. 

 ['I _pull_ in resolution. '--_Act V. Scene 5. _

COR. Had very probably not seen Dr Johnson's edition of _Shakspere_, but incommon with the Doctor, under the simple coercion of good sense, he proposes'I _pall_;' a restitution which is so self-attested, that it oughtfearlessly to be introduced into the text of all editions whatever, let thembe as superstitiously scrupulous as in all reason they ought to be. 

[HAMLET. _Act II. Scene in the Speech of Polonius. _

 'Good sir, or so, or friend, or gentleman, '

is altered by COR. , and in this case with an effect of solemn humour whichjustifies itself, into

 'Good sir, or sir, or friend, or gentleman;'

meaning good sir, or sir simply without the epithet _good_, which impliessomething of familiarity. Polonius, in his superstitious respect for ranksand degrees, provides four forms of address applying to four separate cases:such is the ponderous casuistry which the solemn courtier brings to bearupon the most trivial of cases. 

 * * * * *

At this point, all at once, we find our sheaf of arrows exhausted: trivialas are the new resources offered for deciphering the hidden meanings ofShakspere, their quality is even less a ground of complaint than theirlimitation in quantity. In an able paper published by this journal, duringthe autumn of 1855, upon the new readings offered by Mr Collier's work, Ifind the writer expressing generally a satisfaction with the condition ofShakspere's text. I feel sorry that I cannot agree with him. To me the text, though improved, and gradually moving round to a higher and more hopefulstate of promise, is yet far indeed from the settled state which isdesirable. I wish, therefore, as bearing upon all such hopes and prospects, to mention a singular and interesting case of sudden conquest over adifficulty that once had seemed insuperable. For a period of three centuriesthere had existed an enigma, dark and insoluble as that of the Sphinx, inthe text of Suetonius. Isaac Casaubon had vainly besieged it; then, in amood of revolting arrogance, Joseph Scaliger; Ernesti; Gronovius; manyothers; and all without a gleam of success. 

The passage in Suetonius which so excruciatingly (but so unprofitably) hastormented the wits of such scholars as have sat in judgment upon it througha period of three hundred and fifty years, arises in the tenth section ofhis Domitian. That prince, it seems, had displayed in his outsetconsiderable promise of moral excellence: in particular, neither rapacitynor cruelty was apparently any feature in his character. Both qualities, however, found a pretty early development in his advancing career, butcruelty the earliest. By way of illustration, Suetonius rehearses a list ofdistinguished men, clothed with senatorian or even consular rank, whom hehad put to death upon allegations the most frivolous: amongst them AeliusLamia, a nobleman whose wife he had torn from him by open and insultingviolence. It may be as well to cite the exact words of Suetonius: 'AeliumLamiam (interemit) ob suspiciosos quidem, verum et veteres et innoxiosjocos; quòd post abductam uxorem laudanti vocem suam--dixerat, _Heu taceo_;quòdque Tito hortanti se ad alterum matrimonium, responderat [Greek: mê kaisu gamêsai theleis];'--that is, Aelius Lamia he put to death on account ofcertain jests; jests liable to some jealousy, but, on the other hand, of oldstanding, and that had in fact proved harmless as regarded practicalconsequences--namely, that to one who praised his voice as a singer he hadreplied, _Heu taceo_; and that on another occasion, in reply to the EmperorTitus, when urging him to a second marriage, he had said, 'What now, Isuppose _you_ are looking out for a wife?'

The latter jest is intelligible enough, stinging, and witty. As if the youngmen of the Flavian family could fancy no wives but such as they had won byviolence from other men, he affects in a bitter sarcasm to take for grantedthat Titus, as the first step towards marrying, counselled his friends tomarry as the natural means for creating a fund of eligible wives. Theprimal qualification of any lady as a consort being, in _their_ eyes, thatshe had been torn away violently from a friend, it became evident that thepreliminary step towards a Flavian wedding was, to persuade some incautiousfriend into marrying, and thus putting himself into a capacity of beingrobbed. How many ladies that it was infamous for this family to appropriateas wives, so many ladies that in their estimate were eligible in thatcharacter. Such, at least in the stinging jest of Lamia, was the Flavianrule of conduct. And his friend Titus, therefore, simply as the brother ofDomitian, simply as a Flavian, he affected to regard as indirectly providinga wife, when he urged his friend by marrying to enrol himself as a_pillagee_ elect. 

The latter jest, therefore, when once apprehended, speaks broadly andbitingly for itself. But the other--what can it possibly mean? For centurieshas that question been reiterated; and hitherto without advancing by onestep nearer to solution. Isaac Casaubon, who about 230 years since was theleading oracle in this field of literature, writing an elaborate andcontinuous commentary upon Suetonius, found himself unable to suggest anyreal aids for dispersing the thick darkness overhanging the passage. What hesays is this:--'Parum satisfaciunt mihi interpretes in explicatione hujusLamiæ dicti. Nam quod putant _Heu taceo_ suspirium esse ejus--indicemdoloris ob abductam uxorem magni sed latentis, nobis non ita videtur; sednotatam potius fuisse tyrannidem principis, qui omnia in suo genere pulchraet excellentia possessoribus eriperet, unde necessitas incumbebat sua bonadissimulandi celandique. ' Not at all satisfactory to me are thecommentators in the explanation of the _dictum_ (which is here equivalent to_dicterium_) of Lamia. For, whereas they imagine _Heu taceo_ to be a sigh ofhis--the record and indication of a sorrow, great though concealed, onbehalf of the wife that had been violently torn away from him--me, Iconfess, that the case does not strike in that light; but rather that asatiric blow was aimed at the despotism of the sovereign prince, who toreaway from their possessors all objects whatsoever marked by beauty ordistinguished merit in their own peculiar class: whence arose a pressure ofnecessity for dissembling and hiding their own advantages. '_Sic esseexponendum_, ' that such is the true interpretation (continues Casaubon), '_docent illa verba_ [LAUDANTI VOCEM SUAM], ' (we are instructed by thosewords), [to one who praised his singing voice, &c. ]. 

This commentary was obscure enough, and did no honour to the native goodsense of Isaac Casaubon, usually so conspicuous. For, whilst proclaiming asettlement, in reality it settled nothing. Naturally, it made but a feebleimpression upon the scholars of the day; and not long after the publicationof the book, Casaubon received from Joseph Scaliger a friendly butgasconading letter, in which that great scholar brought forward a newreading--namely, [Greek: entaktô], to which he assigned a profound technicalvalue as a musical term. No person even affected to understand Scaliger. Casaubon himself, while treating so celebrated a man with kind andconsiderate deference, yet frankly owned that, in all his vast reading, hehad never met with this strange Greek word. But, without entering into anydispute upon that verbal question, and conceding to Scaliger the word andhis own interpretation of the word, no man could understand in what way thisnew resource was meant to affect the ultimate question at issue--namely, theextrication of the passage from that thick darkness which overshadowed it. 

'_As you were_' (to speak in the phraseology of military drill), was ineffect the word of command. All things reverted to their original condition. And two centuries of darkness again enveloped this famous perplexity ofRoman literature. The darkness had for a few moments seemed to be unsettlingitself in preparation for flight: but immediately it rolled back again; andthrough seven generations of men this darkness was heavier, because lesshopeful than before. 

Now then, I believe, all things are ready for the explosion of thecatastrophe; 'which catastrophe, ' I hear some malicious reader whispering, 'is doubtless destined to glorify himself' (meaning the unworthy writer ofthis little paper). I cannot deny it. A truth _is_ a truth. And, since nomedal, nor riband, nor cross, of any known order, is disposable for the mostbrilliant successes in dealing with desperate (or what may be called_condemned_) passages in Pagan literature, mere sloughs of despond that yawnacross the pages of many a heathen dog, poet and orator, that I couldmention, the more reasonable it is that a large allowance should be servedout of boasting and self-glorification to all those whose merits upon thisfield national governments have neglected to proclaim. The Scaligers, bothfather and son, I believe, acted upon this doctrine; and drew largely byanticipation upon that reversionary bank which they conceived to beanswerable for such drafts. Joseph Scaliger, it strikes me, was drunk whenhe wrote his letter on the present occasion, and in that way failed to see(what Casaubon saw clearly enough) that he had commenced shouting before hewas out of the wood. For my own part, if I go so far as to say that theresult promises, in the Frenchman's phrase, to 'cover me with glory, ' I begthe reader to remember that the idea of 'covering' is of most variableextent: the glory may envelope one in a voluminous robe--a princely mantlethat may require a long suite of train-bearers, or may pinch and vice one'sarms into that succinct garment (now superannuated) which some eighty yearsago drew its name from the distinguished Whig family in England of Spencer. Anticipating, therefore, that I _shall_--nay, insisting, and mutinously, ifneedful, that I _will_--be covered with glory by the approaching result, Ido not contemplate anything beyond that truncated tunic, once known as a'spencer, ' and which is understood to cover only the shoulders and thechest. 

Now, then, all being ready, and the arena being cleared of competitors(for I suppose it is fully understood that everybody but myself hasretired from the contest), thrice, in fact, has the trumpet sounded, 'Doyou give it up?' Some preparations there are to be made in all cases ofcontest. Meantime, let it be clearly understood what it is that thecontest turns upon. Supposing that one had been called, like OEdipusof old, to a turn-up with that venerable girl the Sphinx, mostessential it would have been that the clerk of the course (or howeveryou designate the judge, the umpire, &c. ) should have read the riddlepropounded to Greece: how else judge of the solution? At present theelements of the case to be decided stand thus:--

A Roman noble, a man, in fact, of senatorial rank, has been robbed, robbed with violence, and with cruel scorn, of a lovely young wife, towhom he was most tenderly attached. But by whom? the indignant readerdemands. By a younger son[8] of the Roman emperor Vespasian. 

[8] But holding what rank, and what precise station, at the time of theoutrage? At this point I acknowledge a difficulty. The criminal was inthis case Domitian, the younger son of Vespasian, the tenth Cæsar, younger Brother of Titus, the eleventh Cæsar, and himself, under thename of Domitian, the twelfth of the Cæsars, consequently the closingprince in that series of the initial twelve Cæsars whom Suetonius hadundertaken to record. Now the difficulty lies here, which yet I havenever seen noticed in any book: was this violence perpetrated before orafter Domitian's assumption of the purple? If _after_, how, then, couldthe injured husband have received that advice from Titus (as torepairing his loss by a second marriage), which forms part of ananecdote and a _bon-mot_ between Titus and Lamia? Yet again, if notafter but before, how was it Lamia had not invoked the protection ofVespasian, or of Titus--the latter of whom enjoyed a theatrically finereputation for equity and moderation?

For some years the wrong has been borne in silence: the sufferer knewhimself to be powerless as against such an oppressor; and that to showsymptoms of impotent hatred was but to call down thunderbolts upon hisown head. Generally, therefore, prudence had guided him. _Patience_ hadbeen the word; _silence_, and below all the deep, deep word--_wait_; andif by accident he were a Christian, not only that same word _wait_ wouldhave been heard, but this beside, look under the altars for others thatalso wait. But poor suffering patience, sense of indignity that ishopeless, must (in order to endure) have saintly resources. Infinitemight be the endurance, if sustained only by a finite hope. But theblack despairing darkness that revealed a tossing sea self-tormented andfighting with chaos, showing neither torch that glimmered in theforeground, nor star that kept alive a promise in the distance, violently refused to be comforted. It is beside an awful aggravation ofsuch afflictions, that the lady herself might have co-operated in thelater stages of the tragedy with the purposes of the imperial ruffian. Lamia had been suffered to live, because as a living man he yielded upinto the hands of his tormentor his whole capacity of suffering; no partof it escaped the hellish range of his enemy's eye. But this advantagefor the torturer had also its weak and doubtful side. Use and monotonymight secretly be wearing away the edge of the organs on and throughwhich the corrosion of the inner heart proceeded. On the whole, therefore, putting together the facts of the case, it seems to have beenresolved that he should die. But previously that he should drink off afinal cup of anguish, the bitterest that had yet been offered. The ladyherself, again--that wife so known historically, so notorious, yet sototal a stranger to man and his generations--had she also suffered insympathy with her martyred husband? That must have been known to acertainty in the outset of the case, by him that knew too profoundly onwhat terms of love they had lived. But at length, seeking for crowningtorments, it may have been that the dreadful Cæsar might have found the'raw' in his poor victim, that offered its fellowship in exalting thefurnace of misery. The lady herself--may we not suppose her at the lastto have given way before the strengthening storm. Possibly to resistindefinitely might have menaced herself with ruin, whilst offering nobenefit to her husband. And, again, though killing to the naturalinterests which accompany such a case, might not the lady herself beworn out, if no otherwise, by the killing nature of the contest? Thereis besides this dreadful fact, placed ten thousand times on record, thatthe very goodness of the human heart in such a case ministers fuel tothe moral degradation of a female combatant. Any woman, and exactly inproportion to the moral sensibility of her nature, finds it painful tolive in the same house with a man not odiously repulsive in manners orin person on terms of eternal hostility. In a community so noblyreleased as was Rome from all base Oriental bondage of women, thisfollowed--that compliances of a nature oftentimes to belie the nativenobility of woman become painfully liable to misinterpretation. Possiblyunder the blinding delusion of secret promises, unknown, nay, inaccessible, to those outside (all contemporaries being as ridiculouslyimpotent to penetrate within the curtain as all posterity), the wife ofLamia, once so pure, may have been over-persuaded to make such _public_manifestations of affection for Domitian as had hitherto, upon onemotive or another, been loftily withheld. Things, that to a lover carryalong with them irreversible ruin, carry with them final desolation ofheart, are to the vast current of ordinary men, who regard societyexclusively from a political centre, less than nothing. Do they deny theexistence of other and nobler agencies in human affairs? Not at all. Readily they confess these agencies: but, as movements obeying laws notknown, or imperfectly known to _them_, these they ignore. What it wascircumstantially that passed, long since has been overtaken andswallowed up by the vast oblivions of time. This only survives--namely, that what he said gave signal offence in the highest quarter, and thathis death followed. But what was it that he _did_ say? That is preciselythe question, and the whole question which we have to answer. At presentwe know, and we do _not_ know, what it was that he said. We havebequeathed to us by history two words--involving eight letters--which intheir present form, with submission to certain grandees of classicliterature, mean exactly nothing. These two words must be regarded asthe raw material upon which we have to work: and out of these we arerequired to turn out a rational saying for Aelius Lamia, under thefollowing five conditions:--First, it must allude to his wife, as onethat is lost to him irrecoverably; secondly, it must glance at a gloomytyrant who bars him from rejoining her; thirdly, it must reply to thecompliment which had been paid to the sweetness of his own voice;fourthly, it should in strictness contain some allusion calculated notonly to irritate, but even to alarm or threaten his jealous and vigilantenemy; fifthly, doing all these things, it ought also to absorb, as itsown main elements, the eight letters contained in the present senselesswords--'_Heu taceo. _'

Here is a monstrous quantity of work to throw upon any two words in anypossible language. Even Shakspere's clown, [9] when challenged to furnisha catholic answer applicable to all conceivable occasions, cannot do itin less than nine letters--namely, _Oh lord, sir_. I, for my part, satisfied that the existing form of _Heu taceo_ was mere indictable andpunishable nonsense, but yet that this nonsense must enter as chiefelement into the stinging sense of Lamia, gazed for I cannot tell howmany weeks at these impregnable letters, viewing them sometimes as afortress that I was called upon to escalade, sometimes as an anagramthat I was called upon to re-organise into the life which it had lostthrough some dislocation of arrangement. Finally the result in which Ilanded, and which fulfilled all the conditions laid down was this:--Letme premise, however, what _at any rate_ the existing darkness attests, that some disturbance of the text must in some way have arisen; whetherfrom the gnawing of a rat, or the spilling of some obliterating fluid atthis point of some critical or unique MS. It is sufficient for us thatthe vital word has survived. I suppose, therefore, that Lamia hadreplied to the friend who praised the sweetness of his voice, 'Sweet isit? Ah, would to Heaven it might prove Orpheutic. ' Ominous in this casewould be the word Orpheutic to the ears of Domitian: for everyschool-boy knows that this means a _wife-revoking voice_. But first letme remark that there is such a legitimate word as _Orpheutaceam_: and inthat case the Latin repartee of Lamia would stand thus--_Suavem dixisti?Quam vellem et Orpheutaceam_. But, perhaps, reader, you fail torecognise in this form our old friend _Heu taceo_. But here he is to acertainty, in spite of the rat: and in a different form of letters thecompositor will show him, up to you as--_vellem et Orp_. [HEU TACEAM]. Possibly, being in good humour, you will be disposed to wink at theseemingly surreptitious AM, though believing the real word to be_taceo_. Let me say, therefore, that one reading, I believe, gives_taceam_. Here, then, shines out at once--(1) Eurydice the lovely wife;(2) detained by the gloomy tyrant Pluto; (3) who, however, is forcedinto surrendering her to her husband, whose voice (the sweetest everknown) drew stocks and stones to follow him, and finally his wife; (4)the word Orpheutic involves an alarming threat, showing that the hope ofrecovering the lady still survived; (5) we have involved in therestoration all the eight, or perhaps nine, letters of the erroneousform. 

[9] In _All's Well that Ends Well_. 

HOW TO WRITE ENGLISH. [10]

Among world-wide objects of speculation, objects rising to the dignityof a mundane or cosmopolitish value, which challenge at this time morethan ever a growing intellectual interest, is the English language. Whyparticularly at this time? Simply, because the interest in that languagerests upon two separate foundations: there are two separate principlesconcerned in its pretensions; and by accident in part, but in part alsothrough the silent and inevitable march of human progress, there hasbeen steadily gathering for many years an interest of something likesceptical and hostile curiosity about each of these principles, considered as problems open to variable solutions, as problems alreadyviewed from different national centres, and as problems also that pressforward to some solution or other with more and more of a clamorousemphasis, in proportion as they tend to consequences no longer merelyspeculative and scholastic, but which more and more reveal featureslargely practical and political. The two principles upon which theEnglish language rests the burden of its paramount interest, arethese:--first, its powers, the range of its endowments; secondly, itsapparent destiny. Some subtle judges in this field of criticism are ofopinion, and ever had that opinion, that amongst the modern languageswhich originally had compass enough of strength and opulence in theirstructure, or had received culture sufficient to qualify them plausiblyfor entering the arena of such a competition, the English had certainpeculiar and inappreciable aptitudes for the highest offices ofinterpretation. Twenty-five centuries ago, this beautiful little planeton which we live might be said to have assembled and opened her firstparliament for representing the grandeur of the human intellect. Thatparticular assembly, I mean, for celebrating the Olympic Games aboutfour centuries and a half before the era of Christ, when Herodotusopened the gates of morning for the undying career of history, byreading to the congregated children of Hellas, to the wholerepresentative family of civilisation, that loveliest of earthlynarratives, which, in nine musical cantos, unfolded the whole luxury ofhuman romance as at the bar of some austere historic Areopagus, and, inversely again, which crowded the total abstract of human records, sealed[11] as with the seal of Delphi in the luxurious pavilions ofhuman romance. 

[10] This fragment appeared in _The Instructor_ for July, 1853. Thesubject was not continued in any form. --H. 

[11] '_Sealed_, ' &c. :--I do not believe that, in the sense of holyconscientious loyalty to his own innermost convictions, any writer ofhistory in any period of time can have surpassed Herodotus. And thereader must remember (or, if unlearned, he must be informed) that thisjudgment has _now_ become the unanimous judgment of all the mostcompetent authorities--that is, of all those who, having first of allthe requisite erudition as to Greek, as to classical archæology, &c. , then subsequently applied this appropriate learning to the searchinginvestigation of the several narratives authorised by Herodotus. In themiddle of the last century, nothing could rank lower than the historiccredibility of this writer. And to parody his title to be regarded asthe 'Father of History, ' by calling him the 'Father of Lies, ' was anunworthy insult offered to his admirable simplicity and candour by morecritics than one. But two points startle the honourable reader, who isloathe to believe of any laborious provider for a great intellectualinterest that he _can_ deliberately have meant to deceive: the firstpoint, and, separately by itself, an all-sufficient demur, isthis--that, not in proportion to the learning and profundity brought tobear upon Herodotus, did the doubts and scruples upon his fidelitystrengthen or multiply. Precisely in the opposite current was themovement of human opinion, as it applied itself to this patriarch ofhistory. Exactly as critics and investigators arose like Larcher--just, reasonable, thoughtful, patient, and combining--or geographers ascomprehensive and as accurate as Major Rennel, regularly in that ratiodid the reports and the judgments of Herodotus command more and morerespect. The other point is this; and, when it is closely considered, itfurnishes a most reasonable ground of demur to the ordinary criticismsupon Herodotus. These criticisms build the principle of their objectiongenerally upon the marvellous or romantic element which intermingleswith the current of the narrative. But when a writer treats (as toHerodotus it happened that repeatedly he treated) tracts of history farremoved in space and in time from the domestic interests of his nativeland, naturally he misses as any available guide the ordinaryutilitarian relations which would else connect persons and events withgreat outstanding interests of his own contemporary system. The veryabstraction which has silently been performed by the mere effect of vastdistances, wildernesses that swallow up armies, and mighty rivers thatare unbridged, together with the indefinite chronological remoteness, doalready of themselves translate such sequestered and insulated chambersof history into the character of moral apologues, where the solesurviving interest lies in the quality of the particular moralillustrated, or in the sudden and tragic change of fortune recorded. Such changes, it is urged, are of rare occurrence; and, recurring toooften, they impress a character of suspicious accuracy upon thenarrative. Doubtless they do so, and reasonably, where the writer ispursuing the torpid current of circumstantial domestic annals. But, inthe rapid abstract of Herodotus, where a century yields but a page ortwo, and considering that two slender octavos, on the particular scaleadopted by Herodotus, embody the total records of the human race down tohis own epoch, really it would furnish no legitimate ground of scrupleor jealousy, though every paragraph should present us with a characterthat seems exaggerated, or with an incident approaching to themarvellous, or a catastrophe that is revolting. A writer is bound--hehas created it into a duty, having once assumed the office of a nationalhistoriographer--to select from the rolls of a nation such events as arethe most striking. And a selection conducted on this principle throughseveral centuries, or pursuing the fortunes of a dynasty reigning overvast populations, _must_ end in accumulating a harvest of results suchas would startle the sobriety of ordinary historic faith. If a medicalwriter should elect for himself, of his own free choice, to record suchcases only in his hospital experience as terminated fatally, it would beabsurd to object the gloomy tenor of his reports as an argument forsuspecting their accuracy, since he himself, by introducing this as acondition into the very terms of his original undertaking with thepublic, has created against himself the painful necessity of continuallydistressing the sensibilities of his reader. To complain of Herodotus, or any public historian, as drawing too continually upon his reader'sprofounder sensibilities, is, in reality, to forget that this belongs asan original element to the very task which he has undertaken. Toundertake the exhibition of human life under those aspects whichconfessedly bring it into unusual conflict with chance and change, is, by a mere self-created necessity, to prepare beforehand the summons to acontinued series of agitations: it is to seek the tragic and thewondrous wilfully, and then to complain of it as violating the laws ofprobability founded on life within the ordinary conditions ofexperience. 

That most memorable of Panhellenic festivals it was, which first madeknown to each other the two houses of Grecian blood that typified itsultimate and polar capacities, the most and the least of exorbitations, the utmost that were possible from its equatorial centre; viz. , on theone side, the Asiatic Ionian, who spoke the sweet musical dialect ofHomer, and, on the other side, the austere Dorian, whom ten centuriescould not teach that human life brought with it any pleasure, or anybusiness, or any holiness of duty, other or loftier than that of war. Ifit were possible that, under the amenities of a Grecian sky, too fiercea memento could whisper itself of torrid zones, under the sterndiscipline of the Doric Spartan it was that you looked for it; or, onthe other hand, if the lute might, at intervals, be heard or fanciedwarbling too effeminately for the martial European key of the Grecianmuses, amidst the sweet blandishments it was of Ionian groves that youarrested the initial elements of such a relaxing modulation. Twenty-fivecenturies ago, when Europe and Asia met for brotherly participation inthe noblest, perhaps, [12] of all recorded solemnities, viz. , theinauguration of History in its very earliest and prelusive page, thecoronation (as with propriety we may call it) of the earliest (perhapseven yet the greatest?) historic artist, what was the language employedas the instrument of so great a federal act? It was that divine Grecianlanguage to which, on the model of the old differential compromise infavour of Themistocles, all rival languages would cordially haveconceded the second honour. If now, which is not impossible, anyoccasion should arise for a modern congress of the leading nations thatrepresent civilisation, not probably in the Isthmus of Corinth, but onthat of Darien, it would be a matter of mere necessity, and so farhardly implying any expression of homage, that the English languageshould take the station formerly accorded to the Grecian. But I comeback to the thesis which I announced, viz. , to the twofold _onus_ whichthe English language is called upon to sustain:--first, to theresponsibility attached to its _powers_; secondly, to the responsibilityand weight of expectation attached to its destiny. To the questionsgrowing out of the first, I will presently return. But for the moment, Iwill address myself to the nature of that DESTINY, which is oftenassigned to the English language: what is it? and how far is it in afair way of fulfilling this destiny?

[12] Perhaps, seriously, the most of a _cosmopolitical_ act that hasever been attempted. Next to it, in point of dignity, I should feeldisposed to class the inauguration of the Crusades. 

As early as the middle of the last century, and by people with as littleenthusiasm as David Hume, it had become the subject of plain prudentialspeculations, in forecasting the choice of a subject, or of the languagein which it should reasonably be treated, that the area of expectationfor an English writer was prodigiously expanding under the developmentof our national grandeur, by whatever names of 'colonial' or 'national'it might be varied or disguised. The issue of the American War, and thesudden expansion of the American Union into a mighty nation on a scalecorresponding to that of the four great European potentates--Russia, Austria, England, and France--was not in those days suspected. But thetendencies could not be mistaken. And the same issue was fullyanticipated, though undoubtedly through the steps of a very much slowerprocess. Whilst disputing about the items on the tess apettiele, thedisputed facts were overtaking us, and flying past us, on the mostgigantic scale. All things were changing: and the very terms of theproblem were themselves changing, and putting on new aspects, in theprocess and at the moment of enunciation. For instance, it had beensufficiently seen that another Christendom, far more colossal than theold Christendom of Europe, _might_, and undoubtedly _would_, form itselfrapidly in America. Against the tens of millions in Europe would riseup, like the earth-born children of Deucalion and Pyrrha (or of theTheban Cadmus and Hermione) American millions counted by hundreds. Butfrom what _radix_? Originally, it would have been regarded as madness totake Ireland, in her Celtic element, as counting for anything. But oflate--whether rationally, however, I will inquire for a brief moment orso--the counters have all changed in these estimates. The late MrO'Connell was the parent of these hyperbolical anticipations. To counthis ridiculous 'monster-meetings' by hundreds of thousands, and then atlast by millions, cost nobody so much as a blush; and considering theopen laughter and merriment with which all O'Connell estimates wereaccepted and looked at, I must think that the _London Standard_ was moredeeply to blame than any other political party, in giving currency andacceptation to the nursery exaggerations of Mr O'Connell. Meantimethose follies came to an end. Mr O'Connell died; all was finished: and anew form of mendacity was transferred to America. There has alwaysexisted in the United States one remarkable phenomenon of Irish politicsapplied to the deception of both English, Americans, and Irish. Allpeople who have given any attention to partisanship and Americanpolitics, are aware of a rancorous malice burning sullenly amongst asmall knot of Irishmen, and applying itself chiefly to the feeding of aninterminable feud against England and all things English. This, as itchiefly expresses itself in American journals, naturally passes for theproduct of American violence; which in reality it is not. And hence ithappens, and for many years it _has_ happened, that both Englishmen andAmericans are perplexed at intervals by a malice and an _acharnement_ ofhatred to England, which reads very much like that atrocious andviperous malignity imputed to the father of Hannibal against the Romans. It is noticeable, both as keeping open a peculiar exasperation of Irishpatriotism absurdly directed against England; as doing a very seriousinjustice to Americans, who are thus misrepresented as the organs ofthis violence, so exclusively Irish; and, finally, as the origin of themonstrous delusion which I now go on to mention. The pretence of lateput forward is, that the preponderant element in the American populationis indeed derived from the British Islands, but by a vast overbalancefrom Ireland, and from the Celtic part of the Irish population. Thismonstrous delusion has recently received an extravagant sanction fromthe London _Quarterly Review_. Half a dozen other concurrent papers, injournals political and literary, hold the same language. And the upshotof the whole is--that, whilst the whole English element (including theearliest colonisation of the New England states at the beginning of theseventeenth century, and including the whole stream of Britishemigration since the French Revolution) is accredited for no more thanthree and a half millions out of pretty nearly twenty millions of_white_ American citizens, on the other hand, against this Englishelement, is set up an Irish (meaning a purely Hiberno-_Celtic_) element, amounting--oh, genius of blushing, whither hast thou fled?--to a totalof eight millions. Anglo-Saxon blood, it seems, is in a miserableminority in the United States; whilst the German blood composes, we aretold, a respectable nation of five millions; and the Irish-Celtic youngnoblemen, though somewhat at a loss for shoes, already count as high aseight millions!

Now, if there were any semblance of truth in all this, we should havevery good reason indeed to tremble for the future prospects of theEnglish language throughout the Union. Eight millions struggling withthree and a half should already have produced some effect on the verycomposition of Congress. Meantime, against these audacious falsehoods Iobserve a reasonable paper in the _Times_ (August 23, 1852), rating theCeltic contribution from Ireland--that is, exclusively of all the_Ulster_ contribution--at about two millions; which, however, I view asalready an exaggeration, considering the number that have always bypreference resorted to the Canadas. Two millions, whom poverty, levity, and utter want of all social or political consideration, have reduced tociphers the most absolute--two millions, in the very lowest and mostabject point of political depression, cannot do much to disturb theweight of the English language: which, accordingly, on anotheroccasion, I will proceed to consider, with and without the aid of thelearned Dr Gordon Latham, and sometimes (if he will excuse me) indefiance of that gentleman, though far enough from defiance in anyhostile or unfriendly sense. 

THE CASUISTRY OF DUELLING. [13]

This mention of Allan Cunningham recalls to my recollection an affairwhich retains one part of its interest to this day, arising out of thevery important casuistical question which it involves. We Protestantnations are in the habit of treating casuistry as a field ofspeculation, false and baseless _per se_; nay, we regard it not so muchin the light of a visionary and idle speculation, as one positivelyerroneous in its principles, and mischievous for its practical results. This is due in part to the disproportionate importance which the Churchof Rome has always attached to casuistry; making, in fact, thissupplementary section of ethics take precedency of its elementarydoctrines in their catholic simplicity: as though the plain and broadhighway of morality were scarcely ever the safe road, but that everycase of human conduct were to be treated as an exception, and never aslying within the universal rule: and thus forcing the simple, honest-minded Christian to travel upon a tortuous by-road, in which hecould not advance a step in security without a spiritual guide at hiselbow: and, in fact, whenever the hair-splitting casuistry is brought, with all its elaborate machinery, to bear upon the simplicities ofhousehold life, and upon the daily intercourse of the world, there ithas the effect (and is expressly cherished by the Romish Church with aview to the effect) of raising the spiritual pastor into a sort ofimportance which corresponds to that of an attorney. The consultingcasuist is, in fact, to all intents and purposes, a moral attorney. For, as the plainest man, with the most direct purposes, is yet reasonablyafraid to trust himself to his own guidance in any affair connected withquestions of law; so also, when taught to believe that an uprightintention and good sense are equally insufficient in morals, as they arein law, to keep him from stumbling or from missing his road, he comes toregard a conscience-keeper as being no less indispensable for his dailylife and conversation, than his legal agent, or his professional 'man ofbusiness, ' for the safe management of his property, and for his guidanceamongst the innumerable niceties which beset the real and inevitableintricacies of rights and duties, as they grow out of human enactmentsand a complex condition of society. Fortunately for the happiness ofhuman nature and its dignity, those holier rights and duties which growout of laws heavenly and divine, written by the finger of God upon theheart of every rational creature, are beset by no such intricacies, andrequire, therefore, no such vicarious agency for their practicalassertion. The primal duties of life, like the primal charities, areplaced high above us--legible to every eye, and shining like the stars, with a splendour that is read in every clime, and translates itself intoevery language at once. Such is the imagery of Wordsworth. But this isotherwise estimated in the policy of papal Rome: and casuistry usurps aplace in her spiritual economy, to which our Protestant feelings demur. So far, however, the question between us and Rome is a question ofdegrees. They push casuistry into a general and unlimited application;we, if at all, into a very narrow one. But another difference there isbetween us even more important; for it regards no mere excess in the_quantity_ of range allowed to casuistry, but in the _quality_ of itsspeculations: and which it is (more than any other cause) that hasdegraded the office of casuistical learning amongst us. Questions areraised, problems are entertained, by the Romish casuistry, which toooften offend against all purity and manliness of thinking. And thatobjection occurs forcibly here, which Southey (either in _The QuarterlyReview_ or in his _Life of Wesley_) has urged and expanded with regardto the Romish and also the Methodist practice of _auricularconfession_--viz. , that, as it _is_ practically managed, not leaving theperson engaged in this act to confess according to the light of his ownconscience, but at every moment interfering, on the part of theconfessor, to suggest _leading questions_ (as lawyers call them), and tothrow the light of confession upon parts of the experience which nativemodesty would leave in darkness, --so managed, the practice of confessionis undoubtedly the most demoralising practice known to any Christiansociety. Innocent young persons, whose thoughts would never havewandered out upon any impure images or suggestions, have their ingenuityand their curiosity sent roving upon unlawful quests: they areinstructed to watch what else would pass undetained in the mind, andwould pass unblameably, on the Miltonic principle: ('Evil into the mindof God or man may come unblamed, ' &c. ) Nay, which is worst of all, unconscious or semi-conscious thoughts and feelings or natural impulses, rising, like a breath of wind under some motion of nature, and againdying away, because not made the subject of artificial review andinterpretation, are now brought powerfully under the focal light of theconsciousness: and whatsoever is once made the subject of consciousness, can never again have the privilege of gay, careless thoughtlessness--theprivilege by which the mind, like the lamps of a mail-coach, movingrapidly through the midnight woods, illuminate, for one instant, thefoliage or sleeping umbrage of the thickets; and, in the next instant, have quitted them, to carry their radiance forward upon endlesssuccessions of objects. This happy privilege is forfeited for ever, whenthe pointed significancy of the confessor's questions, and the directknowledge which he plants in the mind, have awakened a guiltyfamiliarity with every form of impurity and unhallowed sensuality. 

[13] This appeared in _Tait's Magazine_ for February, 1841. Althoughpractically an independent paper, it was included in the series entitled'Sketches of Life and Manners; from the Autobiography of an EnglishOpium-Eater. ' The reference to Allan Cunningham occurs in the previouschapter of these 'Sketches. '--H. 

Here, then, are objections sound and deep, to casuistry, as managed inthe Romish church. Every possible objection ever made to auricularconfession applies with equal strength to casuistry; and someobjections, besides these, are peculiar to itself. And yet, after all, these are but objections to casuistry as treated by a particular church. Casuistry in itself--casuistry as a possible, as a most useful, and amost interesting speculation--remains unaffected by any one of theseobjections; for none applies to the essence of the case, but only to itsaccidents, or separable adjuncts. Neither is this any curious or subtleobservation of little practical value. The fact is as far otherwise ascan be imagined--the defect to which I am here pointing, is one of themost clamorous importance. Of what value, let me ask, is Paley's MoralPhilosophy? What is its imagined use? Is it that in substance it revealsany new duties, or banishes as false any old ones? No; but because theknown and admitted duties--duties recognised in _every_ system ofethics--are here placed (successfully or not) upon new foundations, orbrought into relation with new principles not previously perceived to bein any relation whatever. This, in fact, is the very meaning of atheory[14] or contemplation, [[Greek: Theôria], ] when A, B, C, old andundisputed facts have their relations to each other developed. It isnot, therefore, for any practical benefit in action, so much as for thesatisfaction of the understanding, when reflecting on a man's ownactions, the wish to see what his conscience or his heart promptsreconciled to general laws of thinking--this is the particular serviceperformed by Paley's Moral Philosophy. It does not so much profess totell _what_ you are to do, as the _why_ and the _wherefore_; and, inparticular, to show how one rule of action may be reconciled to someother rule of equal authority, but which, apparently, is in hostility tothe first. Such, then, is the utmost and highest aim of the Paleyian orthe Ciceronian ethics, as they exist. Meantime, the grievous defect towhich I have adverted above--a defect equally found in all systems ofmorality, from the Nichomachéan ethics of Aristotle downwards--is thewant of a casuistry, by way of supplement to the main system, andgoverned by the spirit of the very same laws, which the writer haspreviously employed in the main body of his work. And the immensesuperiority of this supplementary section, to the main body of thesystems, would appear in this, that the latter I have just been saying, aspires only to guide the reflecting judgment in harmonising thedifferent parts of his own conduct, so as to bring them under the samelaw; whereas the casuistical section, in the supplement, would seriouslyundertake to guide the conduct, in many doubtful cases, of action--caseswhich are so regarded by all thinking persons. Take, for example, thecase which so often arises between master and servant, and in so manyvarieties of form--a case which requires you to decide between someviolation of your conscience, on the one hand, as to veracity, by sayingsomething that is not strictly true, as well as by evading (and that isoften done) all answer to inquiries which you are unable to meetsatisfactorily--a violation of your conscience to this extent, and inthis way; or, on the other hand, a still more painful violation of yourconscience in consigning deliberately some young woman--faulty, nodoubt, and erring, but yet likely to derive a lesson from her ownerrors, and the risk to which they have exposed her--consigning her, Isay, to ruin, by refusing her a character, and thus shutting the doorupon all the paths by which she might retrace her steps. This I state asone amongst the many cases of conscience daily occurring in the commonbusiness of the world. It would surprise any reader to find how manythey are; in fact, a very large volume might be easily collected of suchcases as are of ordinary occurrence. _Casuistry_, the very word_casuistry_ expresses the science which deals with such _cases_: for asa case, in the declension of a noun, means a falling away, or adeflection from the upright nominative (_rectus_), so a case in ethicsimplies some falling off, or deflection from the high road of catholicmorality. Now, of all such cases, one, perhaps the most difficult tomanage, the most intractable, whether for consistency of thinking as tothe theory of morals, or for consistency of action as to the practice ofmorals, is the case of DUELLING. 

[14] No terms of art are used so arbitrarily, and with such perfectlevity, as the terms _hypothesis_, _theory_, _system_. Most writers useone or other with the same indifference that they use in constructingthe title of a novel, or, suppose, of a pamphlet, where the phrase_thoughts_, or _strictures_, or _considerations_, upon so and so, areused _ad libitum_. Meantime, the distinctions are essential. That isproperly an _hypothesis_ where the question is about a cause: certainphenomena are known and given: the object is to place below thesephenomena a basis [[Greek: a hypothosis]] capable of supporting them, and accounting for them. Thus, if you were to assign a cause sufficientto account for the _aurora borealis_, that would be an hypothesis. But atheory, on the other hand, takes a multitude of facts all disjointed, or, at most, suspected, of some inter-dependency: these it takes andplaces under strict laws of relation to each other. But here there is noquestion of a cause. Finally, a system is the synthesis of a theory andan hypothesis: it states the relations as amongst an undigested mass, _rudis indigestaque moles_, of known phenomena; and it assigns a basisfor the whole, as in an hypothesis. These distinctions would becomevivid and convincing by the help of proper illustrations. 

As an introduction, I will state my story--the case for the casuist; andthen say one word on the reason of the case. 

First, let me report the case of a friend--a distinguished lawyer at theEnglish bar. I had the circumstances from himself, which lie in a verysmall compass; and, as my friend is known, to a proverb almost, for hisliteral accuracy in all statements of fact, there need be no fear of anymistake as to the main points of the case. He was one day engaged inpleading before the Commissioners of Bankruptcy; a court then, newlyappointed, and differently constituted, I believe, in some respects, from its present form. That particular commissioner, as it happened, whopresided at the moment when the case occurred, had been recentlyappointed, and did not know the faces of those who chiefly practised inthe court. All things, indeed, concurred to favour his mistake: for thecase itself came on in a shape or in a stage which was liable tomisinterpretation, from the partial view which it allowed of the facts, under the hurry of the procedure; and my friend, also, unluckily, hadneglected to assume his barrister's costume, so that he passed, in thecommissioner's appreciation, as an attorney. 'What if he _had_ been anattorney?' it may be said: 'was he, therefore, less entitled to courtesyor justice?' Certainly not; nor is it my business to apologise for thecommissioner. But it may easily be imagined, and (making allowances forthe confusion of hurry and imperfect knowledge of the case) it _does_offer something in palliation of the judge's rashness, that, amongst alarge heap of 'Old Bailey' attorneys, who notoriously attended thiscourt for the express purpose of whitewashing their clients, and whowere in bad odour as tricksters, he could hardly have been expected tomake a special exception in favour of one particular man, who had notprotected himself by the insignia of his order. His main error, however, lay in misapprehending the case: misapprehension lent strength to theassumption that my friend was an 'Old Bailey' (_i. E. _, a sharking)attorney; whilst, on the other hand, that assumption lent strength tohis misapprehension of the case. Angry interruptions began: these, beingretorted or resented with just indignation, produced an irritation andill temper, which, of themselves, were quite sufficient to raise a cloudof perplexity over any law process, and to obscure it for anyunderstanding. The commissioner grew warmer and warmer; and, at length, he had the presumption to say:--'Sir, you are a disgrace to yourprofession. ' When such sugar-plums, as Captain M'Turk the peacemakerobserves, were flying between them, there could be no room for furtherparley. That same night the commissioner was waited on by a friend ofthe barrister's, who cleared up his own misconceptions to thedisconcerted judge; placed him, even to his own judgment, thoroughly inthe wrong; and then most courteously troubled him for a reference tosome gentleman, who would arrange the terms of a meeting for the nextday. The commissioner was too just and grave a man to be satisfied withhimself, on a cool review of his own conduct. Here was a quarrel ripenedinto a mortal feud, likely enough to terminate in wounds, or, possibly, in death to one of the parties, which, on his side, carried with it nopalliations from any provocation received, or from wrong and insult, inany form, sustained: these, in an aggravated shape, could be pleaded bymy friend, but with no opening for retaliatory pleas on the part of themagistrate. That name, again, of magistrate, increased his offence andpointed its moral: he, a conservator of the laws--he, a dispenser ofequity, sitting even at the very moment on the judgment seat--_he_ tohave commenced a brawl, nay to have fastened a quarrel upon a man eventhen of some consideration and of high promise; a quarrel which finallytended to this result--shoot or be shot. That commissioner's situationand state of mind, for the succeeding night, were certainly notenviable: like Southey's erring painter, who had yielded to thetemptation of the subtle fiend, With repentance his only companion he lay; And a dismal companion is she. 

Meantime, my friend--what was _his_ condition; and how did _he_ pass theinterval? I have heard him feelingly describe the misery, the blankanguish of this memorable night. Sometimes it happens that a man'sconscience is wounded; but this very wound is the means, perhaps, bywhich his feelings are spared for the present: sometimes his feelingsare lacerated; but this very laceration makes the ransom for hisconscience. Here, on the contrary, his feelings and his happiness weredimmed by the very same cause which offered pain and outrage to hisconscience. He was, upon principle, a hater of duelling. Under anycircumstances, he would have condemned the man who could, for a lightcause, or almost for the weightiest, have so much as _accepted_ achallenge. Yet, here he was positively _offering_ a challenge; and towhom? To a man whom he scarcely knew by sight; whom he had never spokento until this unfortunate afternoon; and towards whom (now that themomentary excitement of anger had passed away) he felt no atom ofpassion or resentment whatsoever. As a free 'unhoused' young man, therefore, had he been such, without ties or obligations in life, hewould have felt the profoundest compunction at the anticipation of anyserious injury inflicted upon another man's hopes or happiness, or uponhis own. But what was his real situation? He was a married man, marriedto the woman of his choice within a very few years: he was also afather, having one most promising son, somewhere about three years old. His young wife and his son composed his family; and both were dependent, in the most absolute sense, for all they possessed or they expected--forall they had or ever could have--upon his own exertions. Abandoned byhim, losing him, they forfeited, in one hour, every chance of comfort, respectability, or security from scorn and humiliation. The mother, awoman of strong understanding and most excellent judgment--good andupright herself--liable, therefore, to no habit of suspicion, andconstitutionally cheerful, went to bed with her young son, thinking noevil. Midnight came, one, two o'clock; mother and child had long beenasleep; nor did either of them dream of that danger which even now wasyawning under their feet. The barrister had spent the hours from ten totwo in drawing up his will, and in writing such letters as might havethe best chance, in case of fatal issue to himself, for obtaining someaid to the desolate condition of those two beings whom he would leavebehind, unprotected and without provision. Oftentimes he stole into thebedroom, and gazed with anguish upon the innocent objects of his love;and, as his conscience now told him, of his bitterest perfidy. 'Will youthen leave us? Are you really going to betray us? Will you deliberatelyconsign us to life-long poverty, and scorn, and grief?' These affectingapostrophes he seemed, in the silence of the night, to hear almost withbodily ears. Silent reproaches seemed written upon their sleepingfeatures; and once, when his wife suddenly awakened under the glare ofthe lamp which he carried, he felt the strongest impulse to fly from theroom; but he faltered, and stood rooted to the spot. She looked at himsmilingly, and asked why he was so long in coming to bed. He pleaded anexcuse, which she easily admitted, of some law case to study against themorning, or some law paper to draw. She was satisfied; and fell asleepagain. He, however, fearing, above all things, that he might miss thetime for his appointment, resolutely abided by his plan of not going tobed; for the meeting was to take place at Chalk Farm, and by half-pastfive in the morning: that is, about one hour after sunrise. One hour anda half before this time, in the gray dawn, just when the silence ofNature and of mighty London was most absolute, he crept stealthily, andlike a guilty thing, to the bedside of his sleeping wife and child;took, what he believed might be his final look of them: kissed themsoftly; and, according to his own quotation from Coleridge's _Remorse_, In agony that could not be remembered;

and a conflict with himself that defied all rehearsal, he quitted hispeaceful cottage at Chelsea in order to seek for the friend who hadundertaken to act as his second. He had good reason, from what he hadheard on the night before, to believe his antagonist an excellent shot;and, having no sort of expectation that any interruption could offer tothe regular progress of the duel, he, as the challenger, would have tostand the first fire; at any rate, conceiving this to be the fairprivilege of the party challenged, he did not mean to avail himself ofany proposal for drawing lots upon the occasion, even if such a proposalshould happen to be made. Thus far the affair had travelled through theregular stages of expectation and suspense; but the interest of the caseas a story was marred and brought to an abrupt conclusion by the conductof the commissioner. He was a man of known courage, but he also, was aman of conscientious scruples; and, amongst other instances of courage, had the courage to own himself in the wrong. He felt that his conducthitherto had not been wise or temperate, and that he would be sadlyaggravating his original error by persisting in aiming at a man's life, upon which life hung also the happiness of others, merely because he hadoffered to that man a most unwarranted insult. Feeling this, he thoughtfit, at first coming upon the ground, to declare that, having learned, since the scene in court, the real character of his antagonist, and theextent of his own mistake, he was resolved to brave all appearances andill-natured judgments, by making an ample apology; which, accordingly, he did; and so the affair terminated. I have thought it right, however, to report the circumstances, both because they were really true in everyparticular, but, much more, because they place in strong relief onefeature, which is often found in these cases, and which is allowed fartoo little weight in distributing the blame between the parties: to thisI wish to solicit the reader's attention. During the hours of thisnever-to-be-forgotten night of wretchedness and anxiety, my friend'sreflection was naturally forced upon the causes which had produced it. In the world's judgment, he was aware that he himself, as the onecharged with the most weighty responsibility, (those who depended uponhim being the most entirely helpless, ) would have to sustain by much theheaviest censure: and yet what was the real proportion of blame betweenthe parties? He, when provoked and publicly insulted, had retortedangrily: that was almost irresistible under the constitution of humanfeelings; the meekest of men could scarcely do less. But surely the true_onus_ of wrong and moral responsibility for all which might follow, rested upon that party who, giving way to mixed impulses of rashjudgment and of morose temper, had allowed himself to make a mostunprovoked assault upon the character of one whom he did not know; wellaware that such words, uttered publicly by a person in authority, must, by some course or other, be washed out and cancelled; or, if not, thatthe party submitting to such defamatory insults, would at once exilehimself from the society and countenance of his professional brethren. Now, then, in all justice, it should be so ordered that the weight ofpublic indignation might descend upon him, whoever he might be, (and, ofcourse, the more heavily, according to the authority of his station andhis power of inflicting wrong, ) who should thus wantonly abuse his meansof influence, to the dishonour or injury of an unoffending party. Weclothe a public officer with power, we arm him with influentialauthority over public opinion; not that he may apply these authenticsanctions to the backing of his own malice, and giving weight to hisprivate caprices: and, wherever such abuse takes place, then it shouldbe so contrived that some reaction in behalf of the injured personmight receive a sanction equally public. And, upon this point, I shallsay a word or two more, after first stating my own case; a case wherethe outrage was far more insufferable, more deliberate, and moremalicious; but, on the other hand, in this respect less effectual forinjury, that it carried with it no sanction from any official station orrepute in the unknown parties who offered the wrong. The circumstanceswere these:--In 1824, I had come up to London upon an errand in itselfsufficiently vexatious--of fighting against pecuniary embarrassments, byliterary labours; but, as had always happened hitherto, with veryimperfect success, from the miserable thwartings I incurred through thederanged state of the liver. My zeal was great, and my application wasunintermitting; but spirits radically vitiated, chiefly through thedirect mechanical depression caused by one important organ deranged;and, secondly, by a reflex effect of depression through my own thoughts, in estimating my prospects; together with the aggravation of my case, bythe inevitable exile from my own mountain home, --all this reduced thevalue of my exertions in a deplorable way. It was rare indeed that Icould satisfy my own judgment, even tolerably, with the quality of anyliterary article I produced; and my power to make sustained exertions, drooped, in a way I could not control, every other hour of the day:insomuch, that what with parts to be cancelled, and what with whole daysof torpor and pure defect of power to produce anything at all, veryoften it turned out that all my labours were barely sufficient (sometimes not sufficient) to meet the current expenses of my residence inLondon. Three months' literary toil terminated, at times, in a result =0; the whole _plus_ being just equal to the _minus_, created by twoseparate establishments, and one of them in the most expensive city ofthe world. Gloomy, indeed, was my state of mind at that period: for, though I made prodigious efforts to recover my health, (sensible thatall other efforts depended for their result upon this elementary effort, which was the _conditio sine qua non_ for the rest), yet all availed menot; and a curse seemed to settle upon whatever I then undertook. Suchwas my frame of mind on reaching London: in fact it never varied. Onecanopy of murky clouds (a copy of that dun atmosphere which settles sooften upon London) brooded for ever upon my spirits, which were in oneuniformly low key of cheerless despondency; and, on this particularmorning, my depression had been deeper than usual, from the effects of along, continuous journey of 300 miles, and of exhaustion from want ofsleep. I had reached London, about six o'clock in the morning, by one ofthe northern mails; and, resigning myself as usual in such cases, to thechance destination of the coach, after delivering our bags in LombardStreet, I was driven down to a great city hotel. Here there were hotbaths; and, somewhat restored by this luxurious refreshment, about eighto'clock I was seated at a breakfast table; upon which, in a few minutes, as an appendage not less essential than the tea-service, one of thewaiters laid that morning's _Times_, just reeking from the press. The_Times_, by the way, is notoriously the leading journal of Europeanywhere; but, in London, and more peculiarly in the city quarter ofLondon, it enjoys a pre-eminence scarcely understood elsewhere. Here itis not _a_ morning paper, but _the_ morning paper: no other is known, noother is cited as authority in matters of fact. Strolling with my eyeindolently over the vast Babylonian confusion of the enormous columns, naturally as one of the _corps littéraire_, I found my attention drawnto those regions of the paper which announced forthcoming publications. Amongst them was a notice of a satirical journal, very low priced, andalready advanced to its third or fourth number. My heart palpitated alittle on seeing myself announced as the principal theme for the maliceof the current number. The reader must not suppose that I was left inany doubt as to the quality of the notice with which I had beenhonoured; and that, by possibility, I was solacing my vanity with someanticipation of honeyed compliments. That, I can assure him, was madealtogether impossible, by the kind of language which flourished in thevery foreground of the _programme_, and even of the running title. Theexposure and _depluming_ (to borrow a good word from the fine oldrhetorician, Fuller, ) of the leading 'humbugs' of the age--_that_ wasannounced as the regular business of the journal: and the only questionwhich remained to be settled was, the more or less of the degree; andalso one other question, even more interesting still, viz. --whetherpersonal abuse were intermingled with literary. Happiness, as I haveexperienced in other periods of my life, deep domestic happiness, makesa man comparatively careless of ridicule, of sarcasm, or of abuse. Butcalamity--the degradation, in the world's eye, of every man who isfighting with pecuniary difficulties--exasperates beyond all that can beimagined, a man's sensibility to insult. He is even apprehensive ofinsult--tremulously fantastically apprehensive, where none is intended;and like Wordsworth's shepherd, with his very understanding consciouslyabused and depraved by his misfortunes is ready to say, at all hours--

 And every man I met or faced, Methought he knew some ill of me. 

Some notice, perhaps, the newspaper had taken of this new satiricaljournal, or some extracts might have been made from it; at all events, Ihad ascertained its character so well that, in this respect, I hadnothing to learn. It now remained to get the number which professed tobe seasoned with my particular case; and it may be supposed that I didnot loiter over my breakfast after this discovery. Something which I sawor suspected amongst the significant hints of a paragraph oradvertisement, made me fear that there might possibly be insinuations ordownright assertion in the libel requiring instant public notice; and, therefore, on a motive of prudence, had I even otherwise felt thatindifference for slander which now I _do_ feel, but which, in thoseyears, morbid irritability of temperament forbade me to affect, I shouldstill have thought it right to look after the work; which now I did:and, by nine o'clock in the morning--an hour at which few people hadseen me for years--I was on my road to Smithfield. Smithfield? Yes; evenso. All known and respectable publishers having declined any connexionwith the work, the writers had facetiously resorted to this _aceldama_, or slaughtering quarter of London--to these vast shambles, as typical, Isuppose, of their own slaughtering spirit. On my road to Smithfield, Icould not but pause for one moment to reflect on the pure defecatedmalice which must have prompted an attack upon myself. Retaliation orretort it could not pretend to be. To most literary men, scatteringtheir written reviews, or their opinions, by word of mouth, to the rightand the left with all possible carelessness, it never can be matter ofsurprise, or altogether of complaint, (unless as a question of degrees, )that angry notices, or malicious notices, should be taken of themselves. Few, indeed, of literary men can pretend to any absolute innocence fromoffence, and from such even as may have seemed deliberate. But I, for mypart, could. Knowing the rapidity with which all remarks _of_ literarymen _upon_ literary men are apt to circulate, I had studiously andresolutely forborne to say anything, whether of a writer or a book, unless where it happened that I could say something that would be feltas complimentary. And as to written reviews, so much did I dislike theassumption of judicial functions and authority over the works of my ownbrother authors and contemporaries, that I have, in my whole life, written only two; at that time only one; and that one, though a reviewof an English novel, was substantially a review of a German book, takinglittle notice, or none, of the English translator; for, although he, agood German scholar now, was a very imperfect one at that time, and was, therefore, every way open to criticism, I had evaded this invidiousoffice applied to a novice in literature, and (after pointing out one ortwo slight blemishes of trivial importance) all that I said of a generalnature was a compliment to him upon the felicity of his verses. Upon theGerman author I was, indeed, severe, but hardly as much as he deserved. The other review was a tissue of merriment and fun; and though, it istrue, I _did_ hear that the fair authoress was offended at one jest, Imay safely leave it for any reader to judge between us. She, or herbrother, amongst other Latin epigrams had one addressed to a young lady_upon the loss of her keys_. This, the substance of the lines showed tohave been the intention; but (by a very venial error in one who waswriting Latin from early remembrance of it, and not in the character ofa professing scholar) the title was written _De clavis_ instead of _Declavibus amissis_; upon which I observed that the writer had selected asingular topic for condolence with a young lady, --viz. , '_on the loss ofher cudgels_;' (_clavis_, as an ablative, coming clearly from _clava_). This (but I can hardly believe it) was said to have offended Miss H. ;and, at all events, this was the extent of my personalities. Many kindthings I had said; much honour; much admiration, I had professed at thatperiod of my life in occasional papers or private letters, towards manyof my contemporaries, but never anything censorious or harsh; and simplyon a principle of courteous forbearance which I have felt to be duetowards those who are brothers of the same liberal profession with one'sself. I could not feel, when reviewing my whole life, that in any oneinstance, by act, by word, or by intention, I had offered anyunkindness, far less any wrong or insult, towards a brother author. Iwas at a loss, therefore, to decipher the impulse under which themalignant libeller could have written, in making (as I suspectedalready) my private history the subject of his calumnies. Jealousy, Ihave since understood, jealousy, was the foundation of the whole. Alittle book of mine had made its way into drawing-rooms where some bookof his had not been heard of. On reaching Smithfield, I found thepublisher to be a medical bookseller, and, to my surprise, having everyappearance of being a grave, respectable man; notwithstanding thisundeniable fact, that the libellous journal, to which he thought properto affix his sanction, trespassed on decency, not only by its slander, but, in some instances, by downright obscenity; and, worse than that, by prurient solicitations to the libidinous imagination, through blanks, seasonably interspersed. I said nothing to him in the way of inquiry;for I easily guessed that the knot of writers who were here clubbingtheir _virus_, had not so ill combined their plans as to leave them opento detection by a question from any chance stranger. Having, therefore, purchased a set of the journal, then amounting to three or four numbers, I went out; and in the elegant promenades of Smithfield, I read thelucubrations of my libeller. Fit academy for such amenities ofliterature! Fourteen years have gone by since then; and, possibly, theunknown hound who yelled, on that occasion, among this kennel of curs, may, long since, have buried himself and his malice in the grave. Suffice it here to say, that, calm as I am now, and careless onrecalling the remembrance of this brutal libel, at that time I wasconvulsed with wrath. As respected myself, there was a depth ofmalignity in the article which struck me as perfectly mysterious. Howcould any man have made an enemy so profound, and not even havesuspected it? _That_ puzzled me. For, with respect to the other objectsof attack, such as Sir Humphrey Davy, &c. , it was clear that the malicewas assumed; that, at most, it was the gay impertinence of some man upontown, armed with triple Irish brass from original defect of feeling, andwilling to raise an income by running amuck at any person just thenoccupying enough of public interest to make the abuse saleable. But, inmy case, the man flew like a bull-dog at the throat, with a pertinacityand _acharnement_ of malice that would have caused me to laughimmoderately, had it not been for one intolerable wound to my feelings. These mercenary libellers, whose stiletto is in the market, and at anyman's service for a fixed price, callous and insensible as they are, yet retain enough of the principles common to human nature, under everymodification, to know where to plant their wounds. Like savage hackneycoachmen, they know where there is a _raw_. And the instincts of humannature teach them that every man is vulnerable through his femaleconnexions. There lies his honour; there his strength; there hisweakness. In their keeping is the heaven of his happiness; in them andthrough them the earthy of its fragility. Many there are who do not feelthe _maternal_ relation to be one in which any excessive freight ofhonour or sensibility is embarked. Neither is the name of _sister_, though tender in early years, and impressive to the firesidesensibilities, universally and through life the same magical sound. Asister is a creature whose very property and tendency (_qua_ sister) isto alienate herself, not to gather round your centre. But the names of_wife_ and _daughter_ these are the supreme and starry charities oflife: and he who, under a mask, fighting in darkness, attacks you there, that coward has you at disadvantage. I stood in those hideous shamblesof Smithfield: upwards I looked to the clouds, downwards to the earth, for vengeance. I trembled with excessive wrath--such was my infirmity offeeling at that time, and in that condition of health; and had Ipossessed forty thousand lives, all, and every one individually, I wouldhave sacrificed in vindication of her that was thus cruelly libelled. Shall I give currency to his malice, shall I aid and promote it byrepeating it? No. And yet why not? Why should I scruple, as if afraid tochallenge his falsehoods?--why should I scruple to cite them? He, thislibeller, asserted--But faugh!

This slander seemed to have been built upon some special knowledge ofme; for I had often spoken with horror of those who could marry personsin a condition which obliged them to obedience--a case which hadhappened repeatedly within my own knowledge; and I had spoken on thisground, that the authority of a master might be _supposed_ to have beeninterposed, whether it really were so or not in favour of his designs;and thus a presumption, however false it might be, always remained thathis wooing had been, perhaps, not the wooing of perfect freedom, soessential to the dignity of woman, and, therefore, essential to his owndignity; but that perhaps, it had been favoured by circumstances, and byopportunities created, if it had not even been favoured, by expressexertions of authority. The libeller, therefore, _did_ seem to have someknowledge of my peculiar opinions: yet, in other points, either fromsincere ignorance or from affectation, and by way of turning asidesuspicion, he certainly manifested a non-acquaintance with factsrelating to me that must have been familiar enough to all within mycircle. 

Let me pursue the case to its last stage. The reader will say, perhaps, why complain of a paltry journal that assuredly never made any noise;for I, the reader, never heard of it till now. No, that is verypossible; for the truth is, and odd enough it seems, this maliciousjournal prospered so little, that, positively, at the seventh No. Itstopped. Laugh I did, and laugh I could not help but do, at this pictureof baffled malice: writers willing and ready to fire with poisonedbullets, and yet perfectly unable to get an effective aim, from sheerwant of co-operation on the part of the public. 

However, the case as it respected me, went farther than it did withrespect to the public. Would it be believed that human malice, withrespect to a man not even known by sight to his assailants, as was clearfrom one part of their personalities, finally--that is to say, monthsafterwards--adopted the following course:--The journal had sunk underpublic scorn and neglect; neglect at first, but, perhaps, scorn at thelast; for, when the writers found that mere malice availed not to drawpublic attention, they adopted the plan of baiting their hooks withobscenity; and they published a paper, professing to be written by LordByron, called, '_My Wedding Night_;' and very possible, from internalevidence, to have been really written by him; and yet the combinedforces of Byron and obscenity failed to save them, --which is ratherremarkable. Having sunk, one might suppose the journal was at an end, for good and evil; and, especially, that all, who had been molested byit, or held up to ridicule, might now calculate on rest. By no means:First of all they made inquiries about the localities of my residence, and the town nearest to my own family. Nothing was effected unless theycarried the insult, addressed to my family, into the knowledge of thatfamily and its circle. My cottage in Grasmere was just 280 miles fromLondon, and eighteen miles from any town whatsoever. The nearest wasKendal; a place of perhaps 16, 000 inhabitants; and the nearesttherefore, at which there were any newspapers printed. There were two:one denominated _The Gazette_; the other _The Chronicle_. The first wasTory and Conservative; had been so from its foundation; and was, besides, generous in its treatment of private character. My owncontributions to it I will mention hereafter. _The Chronicle_, on theother hand, was a violent reforming journal, and conducted in apartisan spirit. To this newspaper the article was addressed; by thisnewspaper it was published; and by this it was carried into my own'_next-door_' neighbourhood. Next-door neighbourhood? But that surelymust be the very best direction these libellers could give to theirmalice; for there, at least, the falsehood of their malice must benotorious. Why, yes: and in that which _was_ my neighbourhood, accordingto the most literal interpretation of the term, a greater favour couldnot have been done me, nor a more laughable humiliation for myunprovoked enemies. Commentary or refutation there needed none; theutter falsehood of the main allegations were so obvious to every man, woman, and child, that, of necessity, it discredited even those partswhich might, for any thing known to my neighbours, have been true. Nay, it was the means of procuring for me a generous expression of sympathy, that would else have been wanting; for some gentlemen of theneighbourhood, who were but slightly known to me, put the malignantjournal into the fire at a public reading-room. So far was well; but, onthe other hand, in Kendal, a town nearly twenty miles distant, ofnecessity I was but imperfectly known; and though there was a prettygeneral expression of disgust at the character of the publication, andthe wanton malignity which it bore upon its front, since, true or nottrue, no shadow of a reason was pleaded for thus bringing forwardstatements expressly to injure me, or to make me unhappy; yet there musthave been many, in so large a place, who had too little interest in thequestion, or too limited means of inquiry, for ever ascertaining thetruth. Consequently, in _their_ minds, to this hour, my name, as onepreviously known to them, and repeatedly before the town in connexionwith political or literary articles in their Conservative journal, musthave suffered. 

But the main purpose, for which I have reported the circumstances ofthese two cases, relates to the casuistry of duelling. Casuistry, as Ihave already said, is the moral philosophy of _cases_--that is, ofanomalous combinations of circumstances--that, for any reasonwhatsoever, do not fall, or do not seem to fall, under the general rulesof morality. As a general rule, it must, doubtless, be unlawful toattempt another man's life, or to hazard your own. Very specialcircumstances must concur to make out any case of exception; and eventhen it is evident, that one of the parties must always be deeply in thewrong. But it _does_ strike me, that the present casuistry of societyupon the question of duelling, is profoundly wrong, and wrong bymanifest injustice. Very little distinction is ever made, in practice, by those who apply their judgments to such cases, between the man who, upon principle, practises the most cautious self-restraint andmoderation in his daily demeanour, never under any circumstance offeringan insult, or any just occasion of quarrel, and resorting to duel onlyunder the most insufferable provocation, between this man, on the oneside, and the most wanton ruffian, on the other, who makes a commonpractice of playing upon other men's feelings, whether in reliance uponsuperior bodily strength, or upon the pacific disposition ofconscientious men, and fathers of families. Yet, surely, the differencebetween them goes the whole extent of the interval between wrong andright. Even the question, 'Who gave the challenge?' which _is_ sometimesput, often merges virtually in the transcendant question, 'Who gave theprovocation?' For it is important to observe, in both the cases which Ihave reported, that the _onus_ of offering the challenge was thrown uponthe unoffending party; and thus, in a legal sense, that party is made togive the provocation who, in a moral sense, received it. But surely, ifeven the law makes allowances for human infirmity, when provoked beyondwhat it can endure, --we, in our brotherly judgments upon each other, ought, _a fortiori_, to take into the equity of our considerations theamount and quality of the offence. It will be objected that the law, sofar from allowing for, expressly refuses to allow for, sudden sallies ofanger or explosions of vindictive fury, unless in so far as they areextempore, and before the reflecting judgment has had time to recoveritself. Any indication that the party had leisure for calm review, orfor a cool selection of means and contrivances in executing hisvindictive purposes, will be fatal to a claim of that nature. This istrue; but the nature of a printed libel is, continually to renew itselfas an insult. The subject of it reads this libel, perhaps, in solitude;and, by a great exertion of self-command, resolves to bear it withfortitude and in silence. Some days after, in a public room, he seesstrangers reading it also: he hears them scoffing and laughing loudly:in the midst of all this, he sees himself pointed out to their notice bysome one of the party who happens to be acquainted with his person; and, possibly, if the libel take that particular shape which excessive maliceis most likely to select, he will hear the name of some female relative, dearer, it may be to him, and more sacred in his ears, than all thisworld beside, bandied about with scorn and mockery by those who have notthe poor excuse of the original libellers, but are, in fact, adoptingthe second-hand malignity of others. Such cases, with respect to libelsthat are quickened into popularity by interesting circumstances, or by apersonal interest attached to any of the parties, or by wit, or byextraordinary malice, or by scenical circumstances, or by circumstancesunusually ludicrous, are but too likely to occur; and, with every freshrepetition, the keenness of the original provocation is renewed, and inan accelerated ratio. Again, with reference to my own case, or to anycase resembling that, let it be granted that I was immoderately andunreasonably transported by anger at the moment;--I thought so myself, after a time, when the journal which published the libel sank under thepublic neglect; but this was an after consideration; and, at the moment, how heavy an aggravation was given to the stings of the malice, by thedeep dejection, from embarrassed circumstances and from disorderedhealth, which then possessed me; aggravations, perhaps, known to thelibellers as encouragements for proceeding at the time, and often enoughlikely to exist in other men's cases. Now, in the case as it actuallyoccurred, it so happened that the malicious writers had, by the libel, dishonoured themselves too deeply in the public opinion, to venture uponcoming forward, in their own persons, to avow their own work; butsuppose them to have done so (as, in fact, even in this case, they mighthave done, had they not published their intention of driving a regulartrade in libel and in slander); suppose them insolently to beard you inpublic haunts; to cross your path continually when in company with thevery female relative upon whom they had done their best to point thefinger of public scorn; and suppose them further, by the whole artilleryof contemptuous looks, words, gestures, and unrepressed laughter, torepublish, as it were, ratify, and publicly to apply, personally, theirown original libel, as often as chance or as opportunity (eagerlyimproved) should throw you together in places of general resort; andsuppose, finally, that the central figure--nay, in their account, thevery butt throughout this entire drama of malice--should chance to be aninnocent, gentle-hearted, dejected, suffering woman, utterly unknown toher persecutors, and selected as their martyr merely for herrelationship to yourself--suppose her, in short, to be your wife--alovely young woman sustained by womanly dignity, or else ready to sinkinto the earth with shame, under the cruel and unmanly insults heapedupon her, and having no protector upon earth but yourself: lay all thistogether, and then say whether, in such a case, the most philosophic orthe most Christian patience might not excusably give way; whether fleshand blood could do otherwise than give way, and seek redress for thepast, but, at all events, security for the future, in what, perhaps, might be the sole course open to you--an appeal to arms. Let it not besaid that the case here proposed, by way of hypothesis, is an extremeone: for the very argument has contemplated extreme cases: since, whilstconceding that duelling is an unlawful and useless remedy for cases ofordinary wrong, where there is no malice to resist a more conciliatorymode of settlement, and where it is difficult to imagine any deliberateinsult except such as is palliated by intoxication--conceding this, Ihave yet supposed it possible that cases may arise, with circumstancesof contumely and outrage, growing out of deep inexorable malice, whichcannot be redressed, _as things now are_, without an appeal to the _voyede fait_. 'But this is so barbarous an expedient in days of highcivilisation. ' Why, yes, it labours with the semi-barbarism ofchivalry: yet, on the other hand, this mention of chivalry reminds meto say, that if this practice of duelling share the blame of chivalry, one memorable praise there is, which also it may claim as common to themboth. It is a praise which I have often insisted on; and the verysublime of prejudice I would challenge to deny it. Burke, in hiswell-known apology for chivalry, thus expresses his sense of theimmeasurable benefits which it conferred upon society, as asupplementary code of law, reaching those cases which the weakness ofmunicipal law was then unavailing to meet, and at a price so trivial inbloodshed or violence--he calls it 'the cheap defence of nations. ' Yes, undoubtedly; and surely the same praise belongs incontestably to the lawof duelling. For one duel _in esse_, there are ten thousand, every dayof our lives, amid populous cities, _in posse_: one challenge is given, a myriad are feared: one life (and usually the most worthless, by anyactual good rendered to society) is sacrificed, suppose triennially, from a nation; _every_ life is endangered by certain modes of behaviour. Hence, then, and at a cost inconceivably trifling, the peace of societyis maintained in cases which no law, no severity of police, ever couldeffectually reach. Brutal strength would reign paramount in the walks ofpublic life; brutal intoxication would follow out its lawless impulses, were it not for the fear which now is always in the rear--the fear ofbeing summoned to a strict summary account, liable to the most perilousconsequences. This is not open to denial: the actual basis upon whichreposes the security of us all, the peace of our wives and ourdaughters, and our own immunity from the vilest degradations under theireyes, is the necessity, known to every gentleman, of answering for hisoutrages in a way which strips him of all unfair advantages, except one(which is not often possessed), which places the weak upon a level withthe strong, and the quiet citizen upon a level with the militaryadventurer, or the ruffian of the gambling-house. The fact, I say, cannot be denied; neither can the low price be denied at which this vastresult is obtained. And it is evident that, on the principle ofexpediency, adopted as the basis of morality by Paley, the justificationof duelling is complete: for the greatest sum of immediate happiness isproduced at the least possible sacrifice. [15] But there are many men ofhigh moral principle, and yet not professing to rest upon Christianity, who reject this prudential basis of ethics as the death of all morality. And these men hold, that the social recognition of any one out of thethree following dangerous and immoral principles, viz. --_1st_, That aman may lawfully sport with his own life; _2dly_, That he may lawfullysport with the life of another; _3dly_, That he may lawfully seek hisredress for a social wrong, by any other channel than the law tribunalsof the land: that the recognition of these, or any of them, by thejurisprudence of a nation, is a mortal wound to the very key-stone uponwhich the whole vast arch of morality reposes. Well, in candour, I mustadmit that, by justifying, in courts of judicature, through the verdictsof juries, that mode of personal redress and self-vindication, to healand prevent which was one of the original motives for gathering intosocial communities, and setting up an empire of public law as paramountto all private exercise of power, a fatal wound is given to the sanctityof moral right, of the public conscience, and of law in its elementaryfield. So much I admit; but I say also, that the case arises out of agreat dilemma, with difficulties on both sides; and that, in all_practical_ applications of philosophy, amongst materials so imperfectas men, just as in all attempts to realize the rigour of mathematicallaws amongst earthly mechanics, inevitably there will arise suchdilemmas and cases of opprobrium to the reflecting intellect. However, in conclusion, I shall say four things, which I request my opponent, whoever he may be, to consider; for they are things which certainlyought to have weight; and some important errors have arisen byneglecting them. 

[15] Neither would it be open to Paley to plead that the final orremotest consequences must be taken into the calculation; and that oneof these would be the weakening of all moral sanctions, and thus, indirectly, an injury to morality, which might more than compensate theimmediate benefit to social peace and security; for this mode of arguingthe case would bring us back to the very principle which his ownimplicitly, or by involution, rejects: since it would tell us to obeythe principle itself without reference to the apparent consequences. Bythe bye, Paley has an express section of his work against the law ofhonour as a valid rule of action; but, as Cicero says of Epicurus, itmatters little what he says; the question for us is _quam sibiconvenienter_, how far consistently with himself. Now, as Sir JamesMackintosh justly remarks, all that Paley says in refutation of theprinciple of worldly honour is hollow and unmeaning. In fact, it ismerely one of the commonplaces adopted by satire, and no philosophy atall. Honour, for instance, allows you, upon paying gambling debts, toneglect or evade all others: honour, again, allows you to seduce amarried woman: and he would secretly insinuate that honour _enjoins_ allthis; but it is evident that honour simply forbears to forbid all this:in other words, it is a very limited rule of action, not applying to onecase of conduct in fifty. It might as well be said, that EcclesiasticalCourts sanction murder, because that crime lies out of theirjurisdiction. 

_First_, then, let him remember that it is the principle at stake--viz. , the recognition by a legal tribunal, as lawful or innocent of anyattempt to violate the laws, or to take the law into our own hands: thisit is and the mortal taint which is thus introduced into the publicmorality of a Christian land, thus authentically introduced; thus sealedand countersigned by judicial authority; the majesty of law actuallyinterfering to justify, with the solemnities of trial, a flagrantviolation of law; this it is, this only, and not the amount of injurysustained by society, which gives value to the question. For, as to theinjury, I have already remarked, that a very trivial annual loss--onelife, perhaps, upon ten millions, and that life often as littlepractically valuable as any amongst us--that pays our fine or ransom inthat account. And, in reality, there is one popular error made upon thissubject, when the question is raised about the institution of some_Court of Honour_, or _Court of Appeal in cases of injury to thefeelings_, under the sanction of parliament, which satisfactorilydemonstrates the trivial amount of injury sustained: it is said on suchoccasions that _de minimis non curat lex_--that the mischief, in fact, is too narrow and limited for the regard of the legislature. And we maybe assured that, if the evil were ever to become an extensive one, thenotice of Parliament soon _would_ be attracted to the subject; and hencewe may derive a hint for an amended view of the policy adopted in pastages. Princes not distinguished for their religious scruples, made it, in different ages and places, a capital offence to engage in a duel:whence it is inferred, falsely, that, in former times, a more publichomage was paid to Christian principle. But the fact is, that not theanti-Christian character of the offence so much as its greaterfrequency, and the consequent extension of a civil mischief was theruling consideration with the lawgiver. Among other causes for thisgreater prevalence of duels, was the composition of armies, more oftenbrought together upon mercenary principles from a large variety ofdifferent nations, whose peculiar usages, points of traditional honour, and even the oddness of their several languages to the ear, formed aperpetual occasion of insult and quarrel. Fluellen's affair with Pistol, we may be sure, was no rare but a representative case. 

_Secondly_, In confirmation of what I have said about duelling, as thegreat conductor for carrying off the excess of angry irritation insociety, I will repeat what was said to me by a man of great ability anddistinguished powers, as well as opportunities for observation, inreference to a provincial English town, and the cabals which prevailedthere. These cabals--some political, arising out of past electioneeringcontests; some municipal, arising out of the corporation disputes; somepersonal, arising out of family rivalships, or old traditionarydisputes--had led to various feuds that vexed the peace of the town in adegree very considerably beyond the common experience of towns reachingthe same magnitude. How was this accounted for? The word _tradesman_ is, more than even the term _middle class_, liable to great ambiguity ofmeaning; for it includes a range so large as to take in some who treadon the heels even of the highest aristocracy, and some at the other end, who rank not at all higher than day-labourers or handicraftsmen. Now, those who ranked with gentlemen, took the ordinary course of gentlemenin righting themselves under personal insults; and the result was, that, amongst _them_ or _their_ families, no feuds were subsisting of ancientstanding. No ill blood was nursed; no calumnies or conspicuous want ofcharity prevailed. Not that they often fought duels: on the contrary, aduel was a very rare event amongst the indigenous gentry of the place;but it was sufficient to secure all the effects of duelling, that it wasknown, with respect to this class, that, in the last resort, they wereready to fight. Now, on the other hand, the lowest order of tradesmenhad _their_ method of terminating quarrels--the old English method oftheir fathers--viz. , by pugilistic contests. And _they_ also cherishedno malice against each other or amongst their families. 'But, ' said myinformant, 'some of those who occupied the intermediate stations in thishierarchy of trade, found themselves most awkwardly situated. So farthey shared in the refinements of modern society, that they disdainedthe coarse mode of settling quarrels by their fists. On the other hand, there was a special and peculiar reason pressing upon this class, whichrestrained them from aspiring to the more aristocratic modes offighting. They were sensible of a ridicule, which everywhere attaches tomany of the less elevated or liberal modes of exercising trade in goingout to fight with sword and pistol. This ridicule was sharpened and mademore effectual, in _their_ case, from the circumstance of the RoyalFamily and the court making this particular town a frequent place ofresidence. Besides that apart from the ridicule, many of them dependedfor a livelihood upon the patronage of royalty or of the nobility, attached to their suite; and most of these patrons would have resentedtheir intrusion upon the privileged ground of the aristocracy inconducting disputes of honour. What was the consequence? These persons, having no natural outlet for their wounded sensibilities, beingabsolutely debarred from _any_ mode of settling their disputes, cherished inextinguishable feuds: their quarrels in fact had no naturalterminations; and the result was, a spirit of malice and mostunchristian want of charity, which could not hope for any final repose, except in death. ' Such was the report of my observing friend: theparticular town may be easily guessed at; and I have little doubt thatits condition continues as of old. 

_Thirdly_, It is a very common allegation against duelling, that theancient Romans and Grecians never practised this mode of settlingdisputes; and the inference is, of course, unfavourable, not toChristianity, but to us as inconsistent disciples of our own religion;and a second inference is, that the principle of personal honour, wellunderstood, cannot require this satisfaction for its wounds. For thepresent I shall say nothing on the former head, but not for want ofsomething to say. With respect to the latter, it is a profound mistake, founded on inacquaintance with the manners and the spirit of mannersprevalent amongst these imperfectly civilised nations. Honour was asense not developed in many of its modifications amongst either Greeksor Romans. Cudgelling was at one time used as the remedy in cases ofoutrageous libel and pasquinade. But it is a point very little to thepraise of either people, that no vindictive notice was taken of anypossible personalities, simply because the most hideous license had beenestablished for centuries in tongue license and unmanly Billingsgate. This had been promoted by the example hourly ringing in their ears ofvernile scurrility. _Verna_--that is, the slave born in the family--hadeach from the other one universal and proverbial character offoul-mouthed eloquence, which heard from infancy, could not but furnisha model almost unconsciously to those who had occasion publicly topractise vituperative rhetoric. What they remembered of this vernilelicentiousness, constituted the staple of their talk in such situations. And the horrible illustrations left even by the most accomplished andliterary of the Roman orators, of their shameless and womanly fluency inthis dialect of unlicensed abuse, are evidences, not to be resisted, ofsuch obtuseness, such coarseness of feeling, so utter a defect of allthe gentlemanly sensibilities, that no man, alive to the real state ofthings amongst them, would ever think of pleading their example in anyother view than as an object of unmitigated disgust. At all events, thelong-established custom of deluging each other in the Forum, or even inthe Senate, with the foulest abuse, the precedent traditionallydelivered through centuries before the time of Cæsar and Cicero, had sorobbed it of its sting, that, as a subject for patient endurance, or anoccasion for self conquest in mastering the feelings, it had no merit atall. Anger, prompting an appeal to the cudgel, there might be, but senseof wounded honour, requiring a reparation by appeal to arms, or awashing away by blood, no such feeling could have been subdued orovercome by a Roman, for none such existed. The feelings of woundedhonour on such occasions, it will be allowed, are mere reflections(through sympathetic agencies) of feelings and opinions alreadyexisting, and generally dispersed through society. Now, in Romansociety, the case was a mere subject for laughter; for there were nofeelings or opinions pointing to honour, personal honour as a principleof action, nor, consequently, to wounded honour as a subject ofcomplaint. The Romans were not above duelling, but simply not up to thatlevel of civilisation. 

_Finally_, with respect to the suggestion of a _Court of Honour_, muchmight be said that my limits will not allow; but two suggestions I willmake. _First_, Recurring to a thing I have already said, I must repeatthat no justice would be shown unless (in a spirit very different fromthat which usually prevails in society) the weight of public indignationand the displeasure of the court were made to settle conspicuously uponthe AGGRESSOR; not upon the challenger, who is often the party sufferingunder insufferable provocation (provocation which even the sternness ofpenal law and the holiness of Christian faith allow for), but upon theauthor of the original offence. _Secondly_, A much more searchinginvestigation must be made into the conduct of the SECONDS than is usualin the unprofessional and careless inquisitions of the public into suchaffairs. Often enough, the seconds hold the fate of their principalsentirely in their hands; and instances are not a few, within even mylimited knowledge, of cases where murder has been really committed, notby the party who fired the fatal bullet, but by him who (having it inhis power to interfere without loss of honour to any party) has cruellythought fit--[and, in some instances, apparently for no purpose butthat of decorating himself with the name of an energetic man, and ofproducing a public '_sensation_, ' as it is called--a sanguinaryaffair]--to goad on the tremulous sensibility of a mind distractedbetween the sense of honour on the one hand, and the agonising claims ofa family on the other, into fatal extremities that might, by a slightconcession, have been avoided. I could mention several instances; but, in some of these, I know the circumstances only by report. In one, however, I had my information from parties who were personally connectedwith the unhappy subject of the affair. The case was this:--A man ofdistinguished merit, whom I shall not describe more particularly, because it is no part of my purpose to recall old buried feuds, or toinsinuate any _personal_ blame whatsoever (my business being not withthis or that man, but with a system and its principles); this man, by astep well-meant but injudicious, and liable to a very obviousmisinterpretation, as though taken in a view of self-interest, hadentangled himself in a quarrel. That quarrel would have been settledamicably, or, if not amicably, at least without bloodshed, had it notbeen for an unlucky accident combined with a very unwise advice. Onemorning, after the main dispute had been pretty well adjusted, he wasstanding at the fireside after breakfast, talking over the affair so faras it had already travelled, when it suddenly and most unhappily cameinto his head to put this general question--'Pray, does it strike youthat people will be apt, on a review of this whole dispute, to thinkthat there has been too much talking and too little doing?' His evilgenius so ordered it, that the man to whom he put this question, was onewho, having no military character to rest on, could not (or thought hecould not) recommend those pacific counsels which a truly brave man isever ready to suggest--I put the most friendly construction upon hisconduct--and his answer was this--'Why, if you insist upon my giving afaithful reply, if you _will_ require me to be sincere (though I reallywish you would not), in that case my duty is to tell you, that the world_has_ been too free in its remarks--that it has, with its usualinjustice, been sneering at literary men and _paper pellets_, as theammunition in which they trade; in short, my dear friend, the world haspresumed to say that not you only, but that both parties, have shown alittle of'----'Yes; I know what you are going to say, ' interrupted theother, 'of the _white feather_. Is it not so?'--'Exactly; you have hitthe mark--that is what they say. But how unjust it is; for, says I, butyesterday, to Mr. L. M. , who was going on making himself merry with theaffair in a way that was perfectly scandalous--"Sir, " says I, '----butthis _says I_ never reached the ears of the unhappy man: he had heardenough; and, as a secondary dispute was still going on that had grownout of the first, he seized the very first opening which offered itselffor provoking the issue of a quarrel. The other party was not backwardor slack in answering the appeal; and thus, in one morning, the prospectwas overcast--peace was no longer possible; and a hostile meeting wasarranged. Even at this meeting much still remained in the power of theseconds: there was an absolute certainty that all fatal consequencesmight have been evaded, with perfect consideration for the honour ofboth parties. The principals must unquestionably have felt _that_; butif the seconds would not move in that direction, of course _their_ lipswere sealed. A more cruel situation could not be imagined: two persons, who never, perhaps, felt more than that fiction of enmity whichbelonged to the situation, that is to say, assumed the enmity whichsociety presumes rationally incident to a certain position--assumed itas a point of honour, but did not heartily feel it; and even for theslight shade of animosity which, for half an hour, they might havereally felt, had thoroughly quelled it before the meeting, these twopersons--under no impulses whatever, good or bad, from within, butpurely in a hateful necessity of servile obedience to a command fromwithout--prepared to perpetrate what must, in that frame ofdispassionate temper have appeared to each, a purpose of murder, asregarded his antagonist--a purpose of suicide, as regarded himself. Simply a word, barely a syllable, was needed from the 'Friends' (suchFriends!) of the parties, to have delivered them, with honour, from thisdreadful necessity: that word was not spoken; and because a breath, amotion of the lips, was wanting--because, in fact, the seconds werethoughtless and without feeling, one of the parties has long slept in apremature grave--his early blossoms scattered to the wind--his goldenpromise of fruit blasted; and the other has since lived that kind oflife, that, in my mind, _he_ was happier who died. Something of the samekind happened in the duel between Lord Camelford and his friend, Mr. Best; something of the same kind in that between Colonel Montgomery andCaptain Macnamara. In the former case, the quarrel was, at least, for anoble subject; it concerned a woman. But in the latter, a dog, and athoughtless lash applied to his troublesome gambols, was the solesubject of dispute. The colonel, as is well known, a very elegant andgenerous young man, fell; and Captain Macnamara had thenceforwards aworm at his heart whose gnawings never died. He was a post-captain; andmy brother afterwards sailed with him in quality of midshipman. Fromhim I have often heard affecting instances of the degree in which thepangs of remorse had availed, to make one of the bravest men in theservice a mere panic-haunted, and, in a moral sense, almost a paralyticwreck. He that, whilst his hand was unstained with blood, would havefaced an army of fiends in discharge of his duty, now fancied danger inevery common rocking of a boat: he made himself at times, the subject oflaughter at the messes of the junior and more thoughtless officers: andhis hand, whenever he had occasion to handle a spy-glass, shook, (to usethe common image, ) or, rather, shivered, like an aspen tree. Now, if aregular tribunal, authenticated, by Parliament, as the fountain of law, and, by the Sovereign, as the fountain of honour, were, under the verynarrowest constitution, to apply itself merely to a review of the wholeconduct pursued by the seconds, even under this restriction such atribunal would operate with great advantage. It is needless to directany severity to the conduct of the principals, unless when that conducthas been outrageous or wanton in provocation: supposing anythingtolerably reasonable and natural in the growth of the quarrel, after thequarrel is once 'constituted, ' (to borrow a term of Scotch law, ) theprincipals, as they are called with relation to the subject of dispute, are neither principals nor even secondaries for the subsequentmanagement of the dispute: they are delivered up, bound hand and foot, into the hands of their technical 'friends'; passive to the law ofsocial usage as regards the general necessity of pursuing the dispute;passive to the directions of their seconds as regards the particularmode of pursuing it. It is, therefore, the seconds who are the properobjects of notice for courts of honour; and the error has been, inframing the project of such a court, to imagine the inquiry too muchdirected upon the behaviour of those who cease to be free agents fromthe very moment that they become liable to any legal investigationwhatever: simply as quarrellers, the parties are no objects of question;they are not within the field of any police review; and the very firstact which brings them within that field, translates the responsibility(because the free agency) from themselves to their seconds. The whole_questio vexata_, therefore, reduces itself to these logical moments, (to speak the language of mathematics:) the two parties mainly concernedin the case of duelling, are Society and the Seconds. The first, byauthorising such a mode of redress; the latter, by conducting it. Now, Ipresume, it will be thought hopeless to arraign Society at the bar ofany earthly court, or apply any censure or any investigation to its modeof thinking. [16] To the _principals_, for the reasons given, it would beunjust to apply them; and the inference is, that the _seconds_ are theparties to whom their main agency should be directed--as the parties inwhose hands lies the practical control of the whole affair, and thewhole machinery of opportunities, (so easily improved by a wisehumanity)--for sparing bloodshed, for promoting reconciliation, formaking those overtures of accommodation and generous apology which thebrave are so ready to agree to, in atonement for hasty words, or rashmovements of passion, but which it is impossible for _them_ tooriginate. In short, for impressing the utmost possible spirit ofhumanising charity and forbearance upon a practice which, after all, must for ever remain somewhat of an opprobrium to a Christian people;but which, tried by the law of worldly wisdom, is the finest bequest ofchivalry; the most economic safety-valve for man's malice that man's witcould devise; the most absolute safe-guard of the weak against thebrutal; and, finally, (once more to borrow the words of Burke, ) in asense the fullest and most practical, 'the cheap defence of nations;'not indeed against the hostility which besieges from _without_, butagainst the far more operative nuisance of bad passions that vex andmolest the social intercourse of men by ineradicable impulses fromwithin. 

[16] If it be asked by what title I represent Society as authorising(nay, as necessitating) duels, I answer, that I do not allude to anyfloating opinions of influential circles in society; for these are incontinual conflict, and it may be difficult even to guess in whichdirection the preponderance would lie. I build upon two undeniableresults, to be anticipated in any regular case of duel, and supported byone uniform course of precedent:--_First_, That, in a civil adjudicationof any such case, assuming only that it has been fairly conducted, andagreeably to the old received usages of England, no other verdict isever given by a jury than one of acquittal. _Secondly_, That, beforemilitary tribunals, the result is still stronger; for the party liableto a challenge is not merely acquitted, as a matter of course, if heaccepts it with any issue whatsoever, but is positively dishonoured anddegraded (nay, even dismissed the service, virtually under colour of arequest that he will sell out) if he does not. These precedents form thecurrent law for English society, as existing amongst gentlemen. Duels, pushed _à l'outrance_, and on the savage principles adopted by a fewgambling ruffians on the Continent, (of which a good description isgiven in the novel of _The most unfortunate Man in the World_, ) or byold buccaneering soldiers of Napoleon, at war with all the world, and inthe desperation of cowardice, demanding to fight in a saw-pit or acrossa table, --this sort of duels is as little recognised by the indulgenceof English law, as, in the other extreme, the mock duels of GermanBurschen are recognised by the gallantry of English society. Duels ofthe latter sort would be deemed beneath the dignity of judicial inquiry:duels of the other sort, beyond its indulgence. But all other duels, fairly managed in the circumstances, are undeniably privileged amongstnon-military persons, and commanded to those who are military. 

I may illustrate the value of one amongst the suggestions I have made, by looking back and applying it to part of my last anecdote: the case ofthat promising person who was cut off so prematurely for himself, and soruinously for the happiness of the surviving antagonist. I may mention, (as a fact known to me on the very best authority, ) that the Duke ofWellington was consulted by a person of distinction, who had beeninterested in the original dispute, with a view to his opinion upon thetotal merits of the affair, on its validity, as a 'fighting' quarrel, and on the behaviour of the parties to it. Upon the last question, theopinion of his Grace was satisfactory. His bias, undoubtedly, if he hasany, is likely to lie towards the wisdom of the peacemaker; andpossibly, like many an old soldier, he may be apt to regard the right ofpursuing quarrels by arms as a privilege not hastily to be extendedbeyond the military body. But, on the other question, as to the natureof the quarrel, the duke denied that it required a duel; or that a duelwas its natural solution. And had the duke been the mediator, it ishighly probable that the unfortunate gentleman would now have beenliving. Certainly, the second quarrel involved far less of irritatingmaterials than the first. It grew out of a hasty word, and nothing more;such as drops from parliamentary debaters every night of any interestingdiscussion--drops hastily, is as hastily recalled, or excused, perhaps, as a venial sally of passion, either by the good sense or themagnanimity of the party interested in the wrong. Indeed, by theunanimous consent of all who took notice of the affair, the seconds, orone of them at least, in this case, must be regarded as deeplyresponsible for the tragical issue; nor did I hear of one person whoheld them blameless, except that one who, of all others, might the mostexcusably have held them wrong in any result. But now, from such a casebrought under the review of a court, such as I have supposed, andimproved in the way I have suggested, a lesson so memorable might havebeen given to the seconds, by a two-years' imprisonment--punishmentlight enough for the wreck of happiness which they caused--that soon, from this single case, raised into a memorable precedent, there wouldhave radiated an effect upon future duels for half a century to come. And no man can easily persuade me that he is in earnest about theextinction of duelling, who does not lend his countenance to asuggestion which would, at least, mitigate the worst evils of thepractice, and would, by placing the main agents in responsibility to thecourt, bring the duel itself immediately under the direct control ofthat court; would make a legal tribunal not reviewers subsequently, but, in a manner, spectators of the scene; and would carry judicialmoderation and skill into the very centre of angry passions; not, as nowthey act, inefficiently to review, and, by implication, sometimes toapprove their most angry ebullitions, but practically to control andrepress them. 

THE LOVE-CHARM. 

A TALE FROM THE GERMAN OF TIECK. [17]

Emilius was sitting in deep thought at his table, awaiting his friendRoderick. The light was burning before him; the winter evening was cold;and to-day he wished for the presence of his fellow-traveller, though atother times wont rather to avoid his society: for on this evening he wasabout to disclose a secret to him, and beg for his advice. The timid, shy Emilius found in every business and accident of life so manydifficulties, such insurmountable hindrances, that it might seem to havebeen an ironical whim of his destiny which brought him and Rodericktogether, Roderick being in everything the reverse of his friend. Inconstant, flighty, always determined by the first impression, andkindling in an instant, he engaged in everything, had a plan for everyoccasion; no undertaking was too arduous for him, no obstacle coulddeter him. But in the midst of the pursuit he slackened and wearied justas suddenly as at first he had caught fire and sprung forward. Whateverthen opposed him, was for him not a spur to urge him onward, but onlyled him to abandon what he had so hotly rushed into; so that Roderickwas every day thoughtlessly beginning something new, and with no bettercause relinquishing and idly forgetting what he had begun the daybefore. Hence, never a day passed but the friends got into a quarrel, which seemed to threaten the death of their friendship; and yet what toall appearance thus severed them, was perhaps the very thing that mostclosely bound them together; each loved the other heartily; but eachfound passing satisfaction in being able to discharge the most justlydeserved reproaches upon his friend. 

[17] See the remarks in Prefatory Note, vol. I. 

Emilius, a rich young man, of a susceptible and melancholy temperament, on the death of his parents had become master of his fortune. He had setout on a journey in order thereby to complete his education, but had nowalready spent several months in a large town, for the sake of enjoyingthe pleasures of the carnival, about which he never gave himself theleast trouble, and of making certain arrangements of importance abouthis fortune with some relations, to whom as yet he had scarcely paid avisit. On the road he had fallen in with the restless, ever-shifting andveering Roderick, who was living at variance with his guardians, andwho, to free himself wholly from them and their burdensome admonitions, eagerly grasped at the opportunity held out to him by his new friend ofbecoming his companion on his travels. During their journey they hadoften been on the point of separating; but each after every dispute hadonly felt the more clearly that he could not live without the other. Scarce had they left their carriage in any town, when Roderick hadalready seen everything remarkable in it, to forget it all again on themorrow; while Emilius took a week to acquire a thorough knowledge of theplace from his books, lest he should omit seeing anything that was to beseen; and after all, from indolence and indifference thought there washardly anything worth his while to go and look at. Roderick hadimmediately made a thousand acquaintances, and visited every publicplace of entertainment; often too he brought his new-made friends to thelonely chamber of Emilius, and would then leave him alone with them, assoon as they began to tire him. At other times he would confound themodest Emilius by extravagantly praising his merits and his acquirementsbefore intelligent and learned men, and by giving them to understand howmuch they might learn from his friend about languages, or antiquities, or the fine arts, although he himself could never find time forlistening to him on such subjects, when the conversation happened toturn on them. But if Emilius ever chanced to be in a more active mood, he might almost make sure of his truant friend having caught cold thenight before at a ball or a sledge-party, and being forced to keep hisbed; so that, with the liveliest, most restless, and most communicativeof men for his companion, Emilius lived in the greatest solitude. 

To-day he confidently expected him; for Roderick had been forced to givehim a solemn promise of spending the evening with him, in order to learnwhat it was that for weeks had been depressing and agitating histhoughtful friend. Meanwhile Emilius wrote down the following lines:

 'Tis sweet when spring its choir assembles, And every nightingale is steeping The trees in his melodious weeping, Till leaf and bloom with rapture trembles. 

 Fair is the net which moonlight weaves; Fair are the breezes' gambolings, As with lime-odours on their wings They chase each other through the leaves. 

 Bright is the glory of the rose, When Love's rich magic decks the earth, From countless roses Love looks forth, Those stars wherewith Love's heaven glows. 

 But sweeter, fairer, brighter far To me that little lamp's pale gleaming, When through the narrow casement streaming, It bids me hail my evening star;

 As from their braids her locks she flings, Then twines them in a flowery band, While at each motion of her hand The white robe to her fair form clings;

 Or when she breaks her lute's deep slumbers, And as at morning's touch up-darting, The notes, beneath her fingers starting, Dance o'er the strings in playful numbers. 

 To stop their flight her voice she pours Full after them; they laugh and fly, And to my heart for refuge hie; Her voice pursues them through its doors. 

 Leave me, ye fierce ones! hence remove! They bar themselves within, and say, 'Till this be broken, here we stay, That thou mayst know what 'tis to love. '

Emilius arose fretfully. It grew darker, and Roderick came not, and he waswishing to tell him of his love for an unknown fair one, who dwelt in theopposite house, and who kept him all day long at home, and waking throughmany a night. At length footsteps sounded up the stairs; the door openedwithout anybody knocking at it, and in walked two gay masks with uglyvisages, one a Turk, dressed in red and blue silk, the other a Spaniard inpale yellow and pink with many waving feathers on his hat. As Emilius wasbecoming impatient, Roderick took off his mask, showed his well-knownlaughing countenance, and said: 'Heyday, my good friend, what a drownedpuppy of a face! Is this the way to look in carnival time? I and our dearyoung officer are come to fetch you away. There is a grand ball to-night atthe masquerade rooms; and as I know you have forsworn ever going out in anyother suit than that which you always wear, of the devil's own colour, comewith us as black as you are, for it is already somewhat late. '

Emilius felt angry, and said: 'You have, it seems, according to custom, altogether forgotten our agreement. I am extremely sorry, ' he continued, turning to the stranger, 'that I cannot possibly accompany you; my friendhas been over-hasty in promising for me; indeed I cannot go out at all, having something of importance to talk to him about. '

The stranger, who was well-bred, and saw what Emilius meant, withdrew; butRoderick, with the utmost indifference, put on his mask again, placedhimself before the glass, and said: 'Verily I am a hideous figure, am I not?To say the truth, it is a tasteless, worthless, disgusting device. '

'That there can be no question about, ' answered Emilius, in highindignation. 'Making a caricature of yourself, and making a fool ofyourself, are among the pleasures you are always driving after at fullgallop. '

'Because you do not like dancing yourself, ' said the other, 'and look upondancing as a mischievous invention, not a soul in the world must wear amerry face. How tiresome it is, when a person is made up of nothing butwhims!'

'Doubtless!' replied his angry friend, 'and you give me ample opportunityfor finding that it is so. I thought after our agreement you would havegiven me this evening; but----'

'But it is the carnival, you know, ' pursued the other, 'and all myacquaintances and certain fair ladies are expecting me at the grand ballto-night. Assure yourself, my good friend, it is mere disease in you thatmakes you so unreasonable against all such matters. '

'Which of us has the fairest claim to disease, ' said Emilius, 'I will notexamine. At least your inconceivable frivolousness, your hunger and thirstafter stop-gaps for every hour you are awake, your wild-goose chase afterpleasures that leave the heart empty, seem not to me altogether thehealthiest state of the soul. In certain things, at all events, you mightmake a little allowance for my weakness, if it must once for all pass forsuch: and there is nothing in the world that so jars through and through meas a ball with its frightful music. Somebody once said, that to a deafperson who cannot hear the music, a set of dancers must look like so manypatients for a mad-house; but, in my opinion, this dreadful music itself, this twirling and whirling and pirouetting of half a dozen notes, eachtreading on its own heels, in those accursed tunes which ram themselvesinto our memories, yea, I might say, mix themselves up with our very blood, so that one cannot get rid of their taint for many a miserable dayafter--this to me is the very trance of madness; and if I could ever bringmyself to think dancing endurable, it must be dancing to the tune ofsilence. '

'Well done, signor Paradox-monger!' exclaimed the mask. 'Why, you are so fargone, that you think the most natural, most innocent, and merriest thing inthe world unnatural, ay, and shocking. '

'I cannot change my feelings, ' said his grave friend. 'From my verychildhood these tunes have made me wretched, and have often well-nigh drivenme out of my senses. They are to me the ghosts and spectres and furies inthe world of sound, and come thus and buzz round my head, and grin at mewith horrid laughter. '

'All nervous irritability!' returned the other; 'just like your extravagantabhorrence of spiders and many other harmless insects. '

'Harmless you call them, ' cried Emilius, now quite untuned, 'because youhave no repugnance toward them. To one, however, who feels the same disgustand loathing, the same nameless horror, that I feel, rise up in his soul andshoot through his whole being at the sight of them, these miscreatedeformities, such as toads, spiders, or that most loathsome of nature'sexcrements, the bat, are not indifferent or insignificant: their veryexistence is directly at enmity and wages war with his. In truth, one mightsmile at the unbelievers whose imagination is too barren for ghosts andfearful spectres, and those births of night which we see in sickness, totake root therein, or who stare and marvel at Dante's descriptions, when thecommonest every-day life brings before our eyes such frightful distortedmaster-pieces among the works of horror. Yet, can we really and faithfullylove the beautiful, without being stricken with pain at the sight of suchmonstrosities?'

'Wherefore stricken with pain?' asked Roderick. 'Why should the great realmof the waters and the seas present us with nothing but those terrors whichyou have accustomed yourself to find there? Why not rather look on suchcreatures as strange, entertaining, and ludicrous mummers, and on the wholeregion in the light of a great masked ball-room? But your whims go stillfurther; for as you love roses with a kind of idolatry, there are manyflowers for which you have a no less vehement hatred: yet what harm has thedear good tulip ever done you, or all the other dutiful children of summerthat you persecute? So again you have an aversion to many colours, to manyscents, and to many thoughts; and you take no pains to harden yourselfagainst these weaknesses, but yield to them and sink down into them as intoa luxurious feather-bed; and I often fear I shall lose you altogether someday, and find nothing but a patchwork of whims and prejudices sitting atthat table instead of my Emilius. '

Emilius was wrath to the bottom of his heart, and answered not a word. He had long given up all design of making his intended confession; nordid the thoughtless Roderick show the least wish to hear the secretwhich his melancholy friend had announced to him with such an air ofsolemnity. He sat carelessly in the arm-chair, playing with his mask, when he suddenly cried: 'Be so kind, Emilius, as to lend me your largecloak. '

'What for?' asked the other. 

'I hear music in the church on the opposite side of the street, 'answered Roderick, 'and this hour has hitherto escaped me every eveningsince we have been here. To-day it comes just as if called for. I canhide my dress under your cloak, which will also cover my mask andturban, and when it is over I can go straight to the ball. '

Emilius muttered between his teeth as he looked in the wardrobe for hiscloak, then constraining himself to an ironical smile, gave it toRoderick, who was already on his legs. 'There is my Turkish dagger whichI bought yesterday, ' said the mask, as he wrapped himself up; 'put it byfor me; it is a bad habit carrying about toys of cold steel: one cannever tell what ill use may be made of them, should a quarrel arise, orany other knot which it is easier to cut than to untie. We meet againto-morrow; farewell; a pleasant evening to you. ' He waited for no reply, but hastened down-stairs. 

When Emilius was alone, he tried to forget his anger, and to fix hisattention on the laughable side of his friend's behaviour. After a whilehis eyes rested upon the shining, finely-wrought dagger, and he said:'What must be the feelings of a man who could thrust this sharp ironinto the breast of an enemy! but oh, what must be those of one who couldhurt a beloved object with it! He locked it up, then gently folded backthe shutters of his window, and looked across the narrow street. But nolight was there; all was dark in the opposite house; the dear form thatdwelt in it, and that used about this time to show herself at herhousehold occupations, seemed to be absent. 'Perhaps she is at theball, ' thought Emilius, little as it suited her retired way of life. 

Suddenly, however, a light entered; the little girl whom his belovedunknown had about her, and with whom, during the day and evening, shebusied herself in various ways, carried a candle through the room, andclosed the window-shutters. An opening remained light, large enough forover-looking a part of the little chamber from the spot where Emiliusstood; and there the happy youth would often bide till after midnight, fixed as though he had been charmed there. He was full of gladness whenhe saw her teaching the child to read, or instructing her in sewing andknitting. Upon inquiry he had learnt that the little girl was a poororphan whom his fair maiden had charitably taken into the house toeducate her. Emilius's friends could not conceive why he lived in thisnarrow street, in this comfortless lodging, why he was so little to beseen in society, or how he employed himself. Without employment, insolitude he was happy: only he felt angry with himself and his owntimidity and shyness, which kept him from venturing to seek a neareracquaintance with this fair being, notwithstanding the friendliness withwhich on many occasions she had greeted and thanked him. He knew notthat she would often bend over him eyes no less love-sick than his own;nor boded what wishes were forming in her heart, of what an effort, ofwhat a sacrifice she felt herself capable, so she might but attain tothe possession of his love. 

After walking a few times up and down the room, when the light haddeparted with the child, he suddenly resolved upon going to the ball, though it was so against his inclination and his nature; for it struckhim that his Unknown might have made an exception to her quiet mode oflife, in order for once to enjoy the world, and its gaieties. Thestreets were brilliantly lighted up, the snow crackled under his feet, carriages rolled by, and masks in every variety of dress whistled andchirped as they passed him. From many a house there sounded thedancing-music he so abhorred, and he could not bring himself to go thenearest way towards the ball-room, whither people from every directionwere streaming and thronging. He walked round the old church, gazed atits lofty tower rising solemnly into the dark sky, and felt gladdened bythe stillness and loneliness of the remote square. Within the recess ofa large door-way, the varied sculptures of which he had alwayscontemplated with pleasure, recollecting, while so engaged, the oldentimes and the arts which adorned them, he now again paused, to givehimself up for a few moments to his thoughts. He had not stood long, before a figure drew his attention, which kept restlessly walking to andfro, and seemed to be waiting for somebody. By the light of a lamp thatwas burning before an image of the Virgin, he clearly distinguished itsfeatures as well as its strange garb. It was an old woman of theuttermost hideousness, which struck the eye the more from being broughtout by its extravagant contrast with a scarlet bodice embroidered withgold; the gown she wore was dark, and the cap on her head shone likewisewith gold. Emilius fancied at first it must be some tasteless mask thathad strayed there by mistake; but he was soon convinced by the clearlight that the old, brown, wrinkled face was one of Nature's ploughing, and no mimic exaggeration. Many minutes had not passed when thereappeared two men, wrapped up in cloaks, who seemed to approach the spotwith cautions footsteps, often looking about them, as if to observewhether anybody was following. The old woman walked up to them. 'Haveyou got the candles?' asked she hastily, and with a gruff voice. 'Herethey are, ' said one of the men; 'you know the price; let the matter besettled forthwith. ' The old woman seemed to be giving him money, whichhe counted over beneath his cloak. 'I rely upon you, ' she again began, 'that they are made exactly according to the prescription, at the righttime and place, so that the work cannot fail. ' 'Feel safe as to that, 'returned the man, and walked rapidly away. The other, who remainedbehind, was a youth: he took the old woman by the hand, and said: 'Canit then be, Alexia, that such rites and forms of words, as those oldstories, in which I never could put faith, tell us, can fetter the freewill of man, and make love and hatred grow in the heart?' 'So it is, 'answered the scarlet woman; 'but one and one must make two, and many aone must be added thereto, before such things come to pass. It is notthese candles alone, moulded beneath the midnight darkness of the newmoon, and drenched with human blood, it is not the muttering magicalwords and invocations alone, that can give you the mastery over the soulof another; much more than this belongs to such works; but it is allknown to the initiated. ' 'I rely on you then, ' said the stranger. 'To-morrow after midnight I am at your service, ' returned the old woman. 'You shall not be the first person that ever was dissatisfied with thetidings I brought him. To-night, as you have heard, I have some one elsein hand, one whose senses and understanding our art shall twist aboutwhichever way we choose, as easily as I twist this hair out of my head. 'These last words she uttered with a half grin: they now separated, andwithdrew in different directions. 

Emilius came from the dark niche shuddering, and raised his looks uponthe image of the Virgin with the Child. 'Before thine eyes, thou mildand blessed one, ' said he, half aloud, 'are these miscreants daring tohold their market, and trafficking in their hellish drugs. But as thouembracest thy Child with thy love, even so doth the unseen Love hold usall in its protecting arms, and we feel their touch, and our poor heartsbeat in joy and in trembling toward a greater heart that will neverforsake us. '

Clouds were wandering along over the pinnacles of the tower and thesteep roof of the church; the everlasting stars looked down from amongstthem, sparkling with mild serenity; and Emilius turned his thoughtsresolutely away from these nightly horrors, and thought upon the beautyof his Unknown. He again entered the living streets, and bent his stepstoward the brightly illuminated ball-room, whence voices, and therattling of carriages, and now and then, between the pauses, theclamorous music came sounding to his ears. 

In the hall he was instantly lost amid the streaming throng; dancerssprang round him, masks shot by him to and fro, kettle-drums andtrumpets deafened his ears, and it was unto him as though human lifewere nothing but a dream. He walked along the lines; his eye alone waswatchful, seeking for those beloved eyes and that fair head with itsbrown locks, for the sight of which he yearned to-day even moreintensely than at other times; and yet he inwardly reproached the adoredbeing for enduring to plunge into and lose itself in such a stormy seaof confusion and folly. 'No, ' said he to himself, 'no heart that lovescan lay itself open to this waste hubbub of noise, in which everylonging and every tear of love is scoffed and mocked at by the pealinglaughter of wild trumpets. The whispering of trees, the murmuring offountains, harp-tones, and gentle song gushing forth from an overflowingbosom, are the sounds in which love abides. But this is the verythundering and shouting of hell in the trance of its despair. '

He found not what he was seeking; for the belief that her beloved facemight perchance be lying hid behind some odious mask was what he couldnot possibly bring himself to. Thrice already had he ranged up and downthe hall, and had vainly passed in array every sitting and unmaskedfemale, when the Spaniard joined him and said: 'I am glad that after allyou are come. You seem to be looking for your friend. '

Emilius had quite forgotten him: he said, however, in some confusion:'Indeed I wonder at not having met him here; his mask is easily known. '

'Can you guess what the strange fellow is about?' answered the youngofficer. 'He did not dance, or even remain half an hour in theball-room; for he soon met with his friend Anderson, who is just comefrom the country. Their conversation fell upon literature. As Andersonhad not yet seen the new poem, Roderick would not rest till they hadopened one of the back rooms for him; and there he now is, sitting withhis companion beside a solitary taper, and declaiming the whole poem tohim, beginning with the invocation to the Muse. '

'It is just like him, ' said Emilius; 'he is always the child of themoment. I have done all in my power, not even shunning some amicablequarrels, to break him of this habit of always living extempore, andplaying away his whole being in impromptus, card after card, as ithappens to turn up, without once looking through his hand. But thesefollies have taken such deep root in his heart, he would sooner partwith his best friend than with them. That very same poem, of which he isso fond that he always carries a copy of it in his pocket, he wasdesirous of reading to me, and I had even urgently entreated him to doso; but we were scarcely over the first description of the moon, when, just as I was resigning myself to an enjoyment of its beauties, hesuddenly jumped up, ran off, came back with the cook's apron round hiswaist, tore down the bell-rope in ringing to have the fire lighted, andinsisted on dressing me some beef-steaks, for which I had not the leastappetite, and of which he fancies himself the best cook in Europe, though, if he is lucky, he spoils them only nine times out of ten. '

The Spaniard laughed, and asked: 'Has he never been in love?'

'In his way, ' replied Emilius very gravely; 'as if he were making gameboth of love and of himself, with a dozen women at a time, and, if youwould believe his words, raving after every one of them; but ere a weekpasses over his head they are all sponged out of it together, and noteven a blot of them remains. '

They parted in the crowd, and Emilius walked toward the remoteapartment, whence already from afar he heard his friend's loudrecitative. 'Ah, so you are here too, ' cried Roderick, as he entered;'that is just what it should be. I have got to the very passage at whichwe broke down the other day; seat yourself, and you may listen to therest. '

'I am not in a humour for it now, ' said Emilius; 'besides, the room andthe hour do not seem to me altogether fitted for such an employment. '

'And why not?' answered Roderick. 'Time and place are made for us, andnot we for time and place. Is not good poetry as good at one place as atanother? Or would you prefer dancing? there is scarcity of men; and withthe help of nothing more than a few hours' jumping and a pair of tiredlegs, you may lay strong siege to the hearts of as many gratefulbeauties as you please. '

'Good-bye!' cried the other, already in the door-way; 'I am going home. '

Roderick called after him: 'Only one word! I set off with this gentlemanat daybreak to-morrow, to spend a few days in the country, but willlook in upon you to take leave before we start. Should you be asleep, asis most likely, do not take the trouble of waking; for in a couple ofdays I shall be with you again. --The strangest being on earth!' hecontinued, turning to his new friend, 'so moping and fretful and gloomy, that he turns all his pleasures sour; or rather there is no such thingas pleasure for him. Instead of walking about with his fellow-creaturesin broad daylight and enjoying himself, he gets down to the bottom ofthe well of his thoughts, for the sake of now and then having a glimpseof a star. Everything must be in the superlative for him; everythingmust be pure and noble and celestial; his heart must be always heavingand throbbing, even when he is standing before a puppet-show. He neverlaughs or cries, but can only smile and weep; and there is mighty littledifference between his weeping and his smiling. When anything, be itwhat you will, falls short of his anticipations and preconceptions, which are always flying up out of reach and sight, he puts on a tragicalface, and complains that it is a base and soulless world. At thismoment, I doubt not, he is exacting, that under the masks of a Pantaloonand a Pulcinello there should be a heart glowing with unearthly desiresand ideal aspirations, and that Harlequin should out moralise Hamletupon the nothingness of sublunary things; and should it not be so, thedew will rise into his eyes, and he will turn his back on the wholescene with desponding contempt. '

'He must be melancholic then?' asked his hearer. 

'Not that exactly, ' answered Roderick. 'He has only been spoilt by hisover-fond parents, and by himself. He has accustomed himself to let hisheart ebb and flow as regularly as the sea, and if this motion everchances to intermit, he cries out _miracle!_ and would offer a prize tothe genius that can satisfactorily explain so marvellous a phenomenon. He is the best fellow under the sun; but all my painstaking to break himof this perverseness is utterly vain and thrown away; and if I would notearn sorry thanks for my good intentions, I must even let him follow hisown course. '

'He seems to need a physician, ' remarked Anderson. 

'It is one of his whims, ' said Roderick, 'to entertain a supremecontempt for the whole medical art. He will have it that every diseaseis something different and distinct in every patient, that it can bebrought under no class, and that it is absurd to think of healing it, either by attention to ancient practice or by what is called theory. Indeed he would much rather apply to an old woman, and make use ofsympathetic cures. On the same principle, he despises all foresight, onwhatever occasion, as well as everything like regularity, moderation, and common sense. The last above all he holds in especial abhorrence, asthe antipodes and arch-enemy of all enthusiasm. From his very childhoodhe framed for himself an ideal of a noble character; and his highest aimis to render himself what he considers such, that is, a being who showshis superiority to all things earthy by his contempt for gold. Merely inorder that he may not be suspected of being parsimonious, or givingunwillingly, or ever talking about money, he tosses it about him rightand left by handfuls; with all his large income is for ever poor anddistressed, and becomes the fool of everybody not endowed with preciselythe same kind of magnanimity, which for himself he is determined that hewill have. To be his friend is the undertaking of all undertakings; forhe is so irritable, one need only cough or eat with one's knife, or evenpick one's teeth, to offend him mortally. '

'Was he never in love?' asked his country friend. 

'Whom should he love? whom could he love?' answered Roderick. 'He scornsall the daughters of earth; and were he ever to suspect that his belovedhad not an angelical contempt for dress, or liked dancing as well asstar-gazing, it would break his heart; still more appalling would it be, if she were ever so unfortunate as to sneeze. '

Meanwhile Emilius was again standing amid the throng; but suddenly therecame over him that uneasiness, that shivering, which had already sooften seized his heart when among a crowd in a state of similarexcitement; it chased him out of the ball-room and house, down along thedeserted streets; nor, till he reached his lonely chamber, did herecover himself and the quiet possession of his senses. The night-lightwas already kindled; he sent his servant to bed; everything in theopposite house was silent and dark; and he sat down to pour forth inverse the feelings which had been aroused by the ball. 

 Within the heart 'tis still; Sleep each wild thought encages; Now stirs a wicked will, Would see how madness rages. And cries, Wild Spirit, awake! Loud cymbals catch the cry And back its echoes shake; And shouting peals of laughter, The trumpet rushes after, And cries, Wild Spirit, awake! Amidst them flute tones fly, Like arrows keen and numberless; And with bloodhound yell Pipes the onset swell; And violins and violoncellos, Creeking, clattering, Shrieking and shattering; And horns whence thunder bellows; To leave the victim slumberless, And drag forth prisoned madness, And cruelly murder all quiet and innocent gladness. What will be the end of this commotion? Where the shore to this turmoiling ocean? What seeks the tossing throng, As it wheels and whirls along? On! on! the lustres Like hell-stars bicker: Let us twine in closer clusters. On! on! ever thicker and quicker! How the silly things throb, throb amain! Hence, all quiet! Hither, riot! Peal more proudly, Squeal more loudly, Ye cymbals, ye trumpets! Be-dull all pain, Till it laugh again. 

 Thou becomest to me, beauty's daughter; Smiles ripple over thy lips, And o'er thine eyes blue water; O let me breathe on thee, Ere parted hence we flee. Ere aught that light eclipse. I know that beauty's flowers soon wither; Those lips within whose rosy cells Thy spirit warbles its sweet spells, Death's clammy kiss ere long will press together. I know, that face so fair and full Is but a masquerading skull; But hail to thee, skull so fair and so fresh! Why should I weep and whine and wail, That what blooms now must soon grow pale, That worms must feed on that sweet flesh? Let me laugh but to-day and to-morrow, And I care not for sorrow, While thus on the waves of the dance by each other we sail!

 Now thou art mine And I am thine: And what though pain and sorrow wait To seize thee at the gate, And sob and tear and groan and sigh Stand ranged in state On thee to fly; Blithely let us look and cheerily On death, that grins so drearily. What would grief with us, or anguish? They are foes that we know how to vanquish. I press thine answering fingers, Thy look upon me lingers, Or the fringe of thy garment will waft me a kiss: Thou rollest on in light; I fall back into night; Even despair is bliss. 

 From this delight, From this wild laughter's surge, Perchance there may emerge Foul jealousy and scorn and spite. But this our glory! and pride! When thee I despise, I turn but mine eyes, And the fair one beside thee will welcome my gaze; And she is my bride; Oh, happy, happy days! Or shall it be her neighbour, Whose eyes like a sabre Flash and pierce, Their glance is so fierce?

 Thus capering and prancing, All together go dancing Adown life's giddy cave; Nor living nor loving, But dizzily roving Through dreams to a grave. There below 'tis yet worse; Its flowers and its clay Roof a gloomier day, Hide a still deeper curse. Ring then, ye cymbals, enliven this dream! Ye horns, shout a fiercer, more vulture-like scream! And jump, caper, leap, prance, dance yourselves out of breath! For your life is all art; Love has given you no heart: Therefore shout till ye plunge into bottomless death. 

He had ended and was standing at the window. Then came she into theopposite chamber, lovely, as he had never yet seen her; her brown hairfloated freely and played in wanton ringlets about the whitest of necks;she was but lightly clad, and it seemed as though she was about tofinish some household task at this late hour of the night before goingto bed; for she placed two lights in two corners of the room, set torights the green baize on the table, and again retired. Emilius wasstill sunk in his sweet dreams, and gazing on the image which hisbeloved had left on his mind, when to his horror the fearful, thescarlet old woman walked through the chamber; the gold on her head andbreast glared ghastlily as it threw back the light. She had vanishedagain. Was he to believe his eyes? Was it not some blinding deception ofthe night, some spectre that his own feverish imagination had conjuredup before him? But no! she returned still more hideous than before, witha long gray-and-black mane flying wildly and ruggedly about her breastand back. The fair maiden followed her, pale, frozen up; her lovelybosom was without a covering; but the whole form was like a marblestatue. Betwixt them they led the little sweet child, weeping andclinging entreatingly to the fair maiden, who looked not down upon it. The child clasped and lifted up its little beseeching hands, and strokedthe pale neck and cheeks of the marble beauty. But she held it fast bythe hair, and in the other hand a silver basin. Then the old woman gavea growl, and pulled out a long knife, and drew it across the white neckof the child. Here something wound forth from behind them, which theyseemed not to perceive; or it must have produced in them the same deephorror as in Emilius. The ghastly neck of a serpent curled forth, scaleafter scale, lengthening and ever lengthening out of the darkness, andstooped down between them over the child, whose lifeless limbs hung fromthe old woman's arms; its black tongue licked up the spirting red blood, and a green sparkling eye shot over into Emilius's eye, and brain, andheart, so that he fell at the same instant to the ground. 

He was senseless when found by Roderick some hours after. 

 * * * * *

A party of friends was sitting, on the brightest summer morning, in agreen arbour, assembled round an excellent breakfast. Laughter and jestspassed round, and many a time did the glasses kiss with a merry healthto the youthful couple, and a wish that they might be the happiest ofthe happy. The bride and bridegroom were not present; the fair one beingstill busied about her dress, while the young husband was saunteringalone in a distant avenue, musing upon his happiness. 

'What a pity, ' said Anderson, 'that we are to have no music. All ourladies are beclouded at the thought, and never in their whole liveslonged for a dance so much as to-day, when to have one is quite out ofthe question. It is far too painful to his feelings. '

'I can tell you a secret though, ' said a young officer; 'which is, thatwe are to have a dance after all, and a rare madcap and riotous one itwill he. Everything is already arranged; the musicians are comesecretly, and quartered out of sight. Roderick has managed it all; forhe says, one ought not to let him have his own way, or to humour hisstrange prejudices over-much, especially on such a day as this. Besides, he is already grown far more like a human being, and is much moresociable than he used to be; so that I think even he will not dislikethis alteration. Indeed, the whole wedding has been brought about all ofa sudden, in a way that nobody could have expected. '

'His whole life, ' said Anderson, 'is no less singular than hischaracter. You must all remember how, being engaged on his travels, hearrived last autumn in our city, fixed himself there for the winter, lived like a melancholy man, scarcely ever leaving his room, and nevergave himself the least trouble about our theatre or any other amusement. He almost quarrelled with Roderick, his most intimate friend, for tryingto divert him, and not pampering him in all his moping humours. In fact, this exaggerated irritability and moodiness must have been a diseasethat was gathering in his body; for, as you know, he was seized fourmonths since with a most violent nervous fever, so that we were allforced to give him up for lost. After his fancies had raved themselvesout, on returning to his senses, he had almost entirely lost hismemory; his childhood, indeed, and his early youth were still present tohis mind, but he could not recollect anything that had occurred duringhis travels, or immediately before his illness. He was forced to beginanew his acquaintance with all his friends, even with Roderick; and onlyby little and little has it grown lighter with him; but slowly has thepast with all that had befallen him come again, though still in dimcolours, over his memory. He had been removed into his uncle's house, that the better care might be taken of him, and he was like a child, letting them do with him whatever they chose. The first time he went outto enjoy the warmth of spring in the park, he saw a girl sittingthoughtfully by the road-side. She looked up; her eye met his; and, asit were seized with an unaccountable yearning, he bade the carriagestop, got out, sat down by her, took hold of her hands, and pouredhimself forth in a full stream of tears. His friends were again alarmedfor his understanding; but he grew tranquil, lively and conversable, gotintroduced to the girl's parents, and at the very first besought herhand; which, as her parents did not refuse their consent, she grantedhim. Thenceforward he was happy, and a new life sprang up within him;every day he became healthier and more cheerful. A week ago he visitedme at this country-seat of mine, and was above measure delighted withit; indeed so much so that he would not rest till he had made me sell itto him. I might easily have turned his passionate wish to my own goodaccount, and to his injury; for, whenever he sets his heart on a thing, he will have it, and that forthwith. He immediately made hisarrangements, and had furniture brought hither that he may spend thesummer months here; and in this way it has come to pass that we are allnow assembled together to celebrate our friend's marriage at thisvilla, which a few days since belonged to me. '

The house was large, and situated in a very lovely country. One sidelooked down upon a river, and beyond it upon pleasant hills, clad andgirt round with shrubs and trees of various kinds; immediately before itlay a beautiful flower-garden. Here the orange and lemon trees wereranged in a large open hall, from which small doors led to thestore-rooms and cellars, and pantries. On the other side spread thegreen plain of a meadow, which was immediately bordered by a large park;here the two long wings of the house formed a spacious court; and threebroad, open galleries, supported by rows of pillars standing above eachother, connected all the apartments in the building, which gave it onthis side an interesting and singular character; for figures werecontinually moving along these arcades in the discharge of their varioushousehold tasks; new forms kept stepping forth between the pillars andout of every room, which reappeared soon after above or below, to belost behind some other doors; the company too would often assemble therefor tea or for play; and thus, when seen from below, the whole had thelook of a theatre, before which everybody would gladly pause awhile, expecting, as his fancies wandered, that something strange or pleasingwould soon be taking place above. 

The party of young people were just rising, when the full-dressed bridecame through the garden and walked up to them. She was clad inviolet-coloured velvet; a sparkling necklace lay cradled on her whiteneck; the costly lace just allowed her swelling bosom to glimmerthrough; her brown hair was tinged yet more beautifully by its wreath ofmyrtles and white roses. She addressed each in turn with a kindgreeting, and the young men were astonished at her surpassing beauty. She had been gathering flowers in the garden, and was now returning intothe house, to see after the preparations for the dinner. The tables hadbeen placed in the lower open gallery, and shone dazzlingly with theirwhite coverings and their load of sparkling crystal; rich clusters ofmany-coloured flowers rose from the graceful necks of alabaster vases;green garlands, starred with white blossoms, twined round the columns;and it was a lovely sight to behold the bride gliding along with gentlemotion between the tables and the pillars, amid the light of theflowers, overlooking the whole with a searching glance, then vanishing, and re-appearing a moment afterwards higher up to pass into her chamber. 

'She is the loveliest and most enchanting creature I ever saw, ' criedAnderson; 'our friend is indeed the happiest of men. '

'Even her paleness, ' said the officer, taking up the word, 'heightensher beauty. Her brown eyes sparkle only more intensely above those whitecheeks, and beneath those dark locks; and the singular, almost burning, redness of her lips gives a truly magical appearance to her face. '

'The air of silent melancholy that surrounds her, ' said Anderson, 'shedsa lofty majesty over her whole form. '

The bridegroom joined them, and inquired after Roderick. They had allmissed him some time since, and could not conceive where he could betarrying; and they all set out in search of him. 'He is below in thehall, ' said at length a young man whom they happened to ask, 'in themidst of the coachmen, footmen, and grooms, showing off tricks at cards, which they cannot grow tired of staring at. ' They went in, andinterrupted the noisy admiration of the servants, without, however, disturbing Roderick, who quietly pursued his conjuring exhibition. Whenhe had finished, he walked with the others into the garden, and said, 'Ido it only to strengthen the fellows in their faith: for these puzzlesgive a hard blow to their groomships' free-thinking inclinations, andhelp to make them true believers. '

'I see, ' said the bridegroom, 'my all-sufficing friend, among his othertalents, does not think that of a mountebank beneath his cultivation. '

'We live in a strange time, ' replied the other. 'Who knows whethermountebanks may not come to rule the roost in their turn. One ought todespise nothing nowadays: the veriest straw of talent may be that whichis to break the camel's back. '

When the two friends found themselves alone, Emilius again turned downthe dark avenue, and said, 'Why am I in such a gloomy mood on this thehappiest day of my life? But I assure you, Roderick, little as you willbelieve it, I am not made for this moving about among such a mob ofhuman beings; for this keeping my attention on the _qui vive_ for everyletter of the alphabet, so that neither A nor Z may go without allfitting respect; for this making a bow to her tenth, and shaking handswith my twentieth; for this rendering of formal homage to her parents;for this handing a flower from my nosegay of compliments to every ladythat crosses my eye; for this waiting to receive the tide of newcomersas wave after wave rushes over me, and then turning to give orders thattheir servants and horses may have each a full trough and pail setbefore them. '

'That is a watch that goes of its own accord, ' answered Roderick. 'Onlylook at your house, it was just built for such an occasion; and yourhead-butler, with his right hand taking up at the same time that hisleft is setting down, and one leg running north while the other seems tobe making for south, was begotten and born for no other end than to putconfusion in order. He would even set my brains to rights if he couldget at them; were the whole city here he would find room for all; and hewill make your hospitality the proverb of fifty miles round. Leave allsuch things to him and to your lovely bride; and where will you find sosweet a lightener of this world's cares?'

'This morning before sunrise, ' said Emilius, 'I was walking through thewood; my thoughts were solemnly tuned, and I felt to the bottom of mysoul that my life was now receiving its determinate character, that itwas become a serious thing, and that this passion had created for me ahome and a calling. I passed along by that arbour there, and heardsounds: it was my beloved in close conversation. "Has it not turned outnow as I told you?" said a strange voice; "just as I knew it must turnout. You have got your wish, so cheer up and be merry. " I would not gonear them; afterwards I walked toward the arbour, but they had bothalready left it. Since then I keep thinking and thinking, what can thesewords mean?'

Roderick answered: 'Perhaps she may have been in love with you for sometime without your knowing it; you are only so much the happier. '

A late nightingale here upraised her song, and seemed to be wishing thelover health and bliss. Emilius became more thoughtful. 'Come down withme, to cheer up your spirits, ' said Roderick, 'down to the village, where you will find another couple; for you must not fancy that yours isthe only wedding on which to-day's sun is to shine. A young clown, finding his time wear heavily in the house with an ugly old maid, forwant of something better to do, did what makes the booby now thinkhimself bound in honour to transform her into his wife. By this timethey must both be already dressed, so let us not miss the sight; fordoubtless, it will be a most interesting wedding. '

The melancholy man let himself be dragged along by his lively chatteringfriend, and they soon came to the cottage. The procession was justsallying forth, to go to the church. The young countryman was in hisusual linen frock; all his finery consisted in a pair of leatherbreeches, which he had polished till they shone like a field ofdandelions; he was of simple mien, and appeared somewhat confused. Thebride was sun-burnt, with but a few farewell leaves of youth stillhanging about her; she was coarsely and poorly, but cleanly dressed;some red and blue silk ribbons, already a good deal faded; but whatchiefly disfigured her was, that her hair, stiffened with lard, flour, and pins, had been swept back from her forehead, and piled up at the topof her head in a mound, on the summit of which lay the bridal chaplet. She smiled and seemed glad at heart, but was shamefaced and downcast. Next came the aged parents; the father too was only a servant about thefarm, and the hovel, the furniture, and the clothing, all bore witnessthat their poverty was extreme. A dirty, squinting musician followed thetrain, who kept grinning and screaming, and scratching his fiddle, whichwas patched together of wood and pasteboard, and instead of strings hadthree bits of pack-thread. The procession halted when his honour, theirnew master, came up to them. Some mischief-loving servants, young ladsand girls, tittered and laughed, and jeered the bridal couple, especially the ladies' maids, who thought themselves far handsomer, andsaw themselves infinitely better clad, and wondered how people could beso vulgar. A shuddering came over Emilius; he looked round for Roderick, but the latter had already run away from him again. An impertinentcoxcomb, with a head pilloried in his high starched neck-cloth, aservant to one of the visitors, eager to show his wit, pressed up toEmilius, giggling, and cried: 'Now, your honour, what says your honourto this grand couple? They can neither of them guess where they are tofind bread for to-morrow, and yet they mean to give a ball thisafternoon, and that famous performer there is already engaged. ' 'Nobread!' said Emilius; 'can such things be?' 'Their wretchedness, 'continued the chatterbox, 'is known to the whole neighbourhood; but thefellow says he bears the creature the same good-will, although she issuch a sorry bit of clay. Ay, verily, as the song says, love can makeblack white! The couple of baggages have not even a bed, and must passtheir wedding night on the straw. They have just been round to everyhouse begging a pint of small beer, with which they mean to get drunk; aroyal treat for a wedding day, your honour!' Everybody round aboutlaughed loudly, and the unhappy, despised pair cast down their eyes. Emilius indignantly pushed the chatterer away. 'Here, take this!' hecried, and threw a hundred ducats, which he had received that morning, into the hands of the amazed bridegroom. The betrothed couple and theirparents wept aloud, threw themselves clumsily on their knees, and kissedhis hands and the skirts of his coat. He tried to make his escape. 'Letthat keep hunger out of your doors as long as it lasts!' he exclaimed, quite stunned by his feelings. 'Oh!' they all screamed, 'oh, yourhonour! we shall be rich and happy till the day of our deaths, andlonger too, if we live longer. '

He knew not how he got away from them; but he found himself alone, andhastened with unsteady steps into the wood. Here he sought out thethickest, loneliest spot, and threw himself down on a grassy knoll, nolonger keeping back the bursting stream of his tears. 'I am sick oflife, ' he sobbed; 'I cannot be glad and happy, I will not. Make hasteand receive me, thou dear kind earth, and hide me in thy cool, refreshing arms from the wild beasts that tread over thee and callthemselves men. Oh, God in heaven! how have I deserved that I shouldrest upon down and wear silk, that the grape should pour forth her mostprecious blood for me, and that all should throng around me and offerme their homage and love? This poor wretch is better and worthier thanI, and misery is his nurse, and mockery and venomous scorn are the onlysounds that hail his wedding. Every delicacy that is placed before me, every draught out of my costly goblets, my lying on soft beds, mywearing gold and rich garments, will be unto me like so many sins, nowthat I have beheld how the world hunts down many thousand thousandwretches, who are hungering after the dry bread that I throw away, andwho never know what a good meal is. Oh, now I can fully understand yourfeelings, ye holy pious, whom the world despises and scorns and scoffsat, who scatter abroad your all, even unto the raiment of your poverty, and did gird sack-cloth about your loins, and did resolve as beggars toendure the gibes and the kicks wherewith brutal insolence and swillingvoluptuousness drive away misery from their tables, that by so doing yemight thoroughly purge yourselves from the foul sin of wealth. '

The world, with all its forms of being, hung in a mist before his eyes;he determined to look upon the destitute as his brethren, and to departfar away from the communion of the happy. They had already been waitingfor him a long time in the hall, to perform the ceremony; the bride hadbecome uneasy; her parents had gone in search of him through the gardenand park; at length he returned, lighter for having wept away his cares, and the solemn knot was tied. 

The company then walked from the lower hall toward the open gallery, toseat themselves at table. The bride and bridegroom led the way, and therest followed in their train. Roderick offered his arm to a young girlwho was gay and talkative. 'Why does a bride always cry, and look so sadand serious during the ceremony, ' said she, as they mounted the steps. 

'Because it is the first moment in which she feels intensely all theweight and meaning and mystery of life, ' answered Roderick. 

'But our bride, ' continued the girl, 'far surpasses in gravity all Ihave ever yet seen. Indeed, she almost always looks melancholy, and onecan never catch her in a downright hearty laugh. '

'This does more honour to her heart, ' answered Roderick, himself, contrary to custom, feeling somewhat seriously disposed. 'You know not, perhaps, that the bride a few years ago took a lovely little orphan girlinto the house, to educate her. All her time was devoted to the child, and the love of this gentle being was her sweetest reward. The girl wasbecome seven years old, when she was lost during a walk through thetown, and in spite of all the means that have been employed, nobodycould ever find out what became of her. Our noble-minded hostess hastaken this misfortune so much to heart that she has been preyed uponever since by a silent melancholy, nor can anything win her away fromher longing after her little play-fellow. '

'A most interesting adventure, indeed, ' said the lady. 'One might see awhole romance in three volumes grow out of this seed. It will be astrange sight, and it will not be for nothing, when this lost starreappears. What a pretty poem it would make! Don't you think so, sir?'

The party arranged themselves at table. The bride and bridegroom sat inthe centre, and looked out upon the gay landscape. They talked and drankhealths, and the most cheerful humour reigned; the bride's parents werequite happy; the bridegroom alone was reserved and thoughtful, eat butlittle, and took no part in the conversation. He started when somemusical sounds rolled down from above, but grew calm again on finding itwas nothing but the soft notes of a bugle, which wandered along with apleasant murmur over the shrubs and through the park, till they diedaway on the distant hills. Roderick had stationed the musicians in thegallery overhead, and Emilius was satisfied with this arrangement. Toward the end of the dinner he called his butler, and turning to hisbride, said, 'My love, let poverty also have a share of oursuperfluities. ' He then ordered him to send several bottles of wine, some pastry, and other dishes in abundant portions, to the poor couple, so that with them also this day might be a day of rejoicing, unto whichin after-times they might look back with delight. 'See, my friend, 'cried Roderick, 'how beautifully all things in this world hang together. My idle trick of busying myself about other people's concerns, and mychattering, though you are for ever finding fault with them, have afterall been the occasion of this good deed. ' Several persons began makingpretty speeches to their host on his compassion and kind heart, and theyoung lady next to Roderick lisped about romantic feelings andsentimental magnanimity. 'O, hold your tongues, ' cried Emiliusindignantly. 'This is no good action; it is no action at all; it isnothing. When swallows and linnets feed themselves with the crumbs thatare thrown away from the waste of this meal, and carry them to theiryoung ones in their nests, shall not I remember a poor brother who needsmy help? If I durst follow my heart, ye would laugh and jeer at me, justas ye have laughed and jeered at many others who have gone forth intothe wilderness, that they might hear no more of this world and itsgenerosity. '

Everybody was silent, and Roderick, perceiving the most vehementdispleasure in his friend's glowing eyes, feared he might forget himselfstill more in his present ungracious mood, and tried to give theconversation a sudden turn upon other subjects. But Emilius was becomingrestless and absent; his eyes were continually wandering toward theupper gallery, where the servants who lived in the top story had manythings to do. 

'Who is that ugly old woman, ' he at length asked, 'that is so busythere, going backwards and forwards, in her gray cloak?' 'She is one ofmy attendants, ' said his bride; 'she is to overlook and manage mywaiting-maids and the other girls. ' 'How can you bear to have anythingso hideous always at your elbow?' replied Emilius. 'Let her alone, 'answered the young lady; 'God meant the ugly to live as well as thehandsome: and she is such a good, honest creature, she may be of greatuse to us. '

On rising from table, everybody pressed round the new husband, againwished him joy, and urgently begged that he would consent to theirhaving a ball. The bride too said, breathing a gentle kiss on hisforehead: 'You will not deny your wife's first request, my beloved; wehave all been looking forward with delight to this moment. It is solong since I danced last, and you have never yet seen me dance. Have youno curiosity how I shall acquit myself in this new character? My mothertells me I look better than at any other time. '

'I never saw you thus cheerful, ' said Emilius; 'I will be no disturberof your joys: do just what you please; only let me bargain for nobodyasking me to make myself ridiculous by any clumsy capers. '

'Oh, if you are a bad dancer, ' she answered, laughing, 'you may feelquite safe; everybody will readily consent to your sitting still. ' Thebride then retired to put on her ball-dress. 

'She does not know, ' said Emilius to Roderick, with whom he withdrew, 'that I can pass from the next room into hers through a secret door; Iwill surprise her while she is dressing. '

When Emilius had left them, and many of the ladies were also gone tomake such changes in their attire as were necessary for the ball, Roderick took the young men aside, and led the way to his own room. 'Itis wearing toward evening, ' said he, 'and will soon be dark; so makehaste, every one of you, and mask yourselves, that we may render thisnight glorious in the annals of merriment and madness. Give your fanciesfree range in choosing your characters: the wilder and uglier thebetter. Try every combination of shaggy mane, and squinting eye, andmouth like a gaping volcano; build mountains upon your shoulders, orfatten yourselves into Falstaffs; and as a whet to your inventions, Ihereby promise a kiss from the bride to the figure that would be thelikeliest to make her miscarry. A wedding is such a strange event inone's life; the bride and bridegroom are so suddenly plunged, as it wereby magic, head over heels into a new, unaccustomed element, that it isimpossible to infuse too much of madness and folly into this feast, inorder to keep pace with the whirlpool that is bearing a brace of humanbeings from the state in which they were two, into the state in whichthey become one, and to let all things round about them be fitaccompaniments for the dizzy dream on the wings of which they arefloating toward a new life. So let us rave away the night, making allsail before the breeze; and a fig for such as look twice on the gravesour faces that would have you behave rationally. '

'Don't be afraid, ' said the young officer; 'we have brought from townwith us a large chest full of masks and mad carnival dresses, such aswould make even you stare. '

'But see here, ' returned Roderick, 'what a gem I have got from mytailor, who was just going to cut up this peerless robe into strips. Hebought it of an old crone, who must doubtless have worn it on gala dayswhen she went to Lucifer's drawing-room on the Blocksberg. Look at thisscarlet bodice, with its gold tassels and fringe, at this cap besmearedwith the last fee the hag got from Beelzebub or his imps: it will giveme a right worshipful air. To match such jewels, there is this greenvelvet petticoat with its saffron-coloured trimming, and this maskwould melt even Medusa to a grin. Thus accoutred I mean to lead thechorus of Graces, myself their mother-queen, toward the bed-chamber. Make all the haste you can; and we will then go in procession to fetchthe bride. '

The bugles were still playing; the company were walking about thegarden, or sitting before the house. The sun had gone down behind thick, murky clouds, and the country was lying in the gray dusk, when a partinggleam suddenly burst forth athwart the cloudy veil, and flooded everyspot around, but especially the building, and its galleries, andpillars, and wreaths of flowers, as it were with red blood. At thismoment the parents of the bride and the other spectators beheld a trainof the wildest appearances move toward the upper corridor. Roderick ledthe way as the scarlet old woman, and was followed by hump-backs, mountain-paunches, massy wigs, clowns, punches, skeleton-likepantaloons, female figures embanked by enormous hoops and over-canopiedwith three feet of horsehair, powder and pomatum, and by everydisgusting shape that can be conceived, as though a nightmare wereunrolling her stores. They jumped, and twirled, and tottered, andstumbled, and straddled, and strutted, and swaggered along the gallery, and then vanished behind one of the doors. But few of the beholders hadbeen able to laugh: so utterly were they amazed by the strange sight. Suddenly a piercing shriek burst from one of the rooms, and there rushedforth into the blood-red glow of the sunset the pale bride, in a shortwhite frock, round which wreaths of flowers were waving, with her lovelybosom all uncovered, and her rich locks streaming through the air. Asthough mad, with rolling eyes and distorted face, she darted along thegallery, and, blinded by terror, could find neither door nor staircase;and immediately after rushed Emilius in chase of her, with the sparklingTurkish dagger in his high, upraised hand. Now she was at the end of thepassage; she could go no further; he reached her. His masked friends andthe gray old woman were running after him. But he had already furiouslypierced her bosom, and cut through her white neck; her blood spoutedforth into the radiance of the setting sun. The old woman had claspedround him to tear him back; he struggled with her, and hurled himselftogether with her over the railing, and they both fell, almost lifeless, down at the feet of the relations who had been staring in dumb horror atthe bloody scene. Above and below, or hastening down the stairs andalong the galleries, were seen the hideous masks, standing or runningabout in various clusters, like fiends of hell. 

Roderick took his dying friend in his arms. He had found him in hiswife's room playing with the dagger. She was almost dressed when heentered. At the sight of the hated red bodice his memory had rekindled;the horrible vision of the night had risen upon his mind; and gnashinghis teeth he had sprung after his trembling flying bride, to avenge thatmurder and all those devilish doings. The old woman, ere she expired, confessed the crime that had been wrought; and the gladness and mirth ofthe whole house were suddenly changed into sorrow and lamentation anddismay. 

LUDWIG TIECK. 

The author of the foregoing tale, Ludwig Tieck, has lately beenintroduced to the English reader by an admirable translation of his twoexquisite little novels, _The Pictures_ and _The Betrothing_. He is oneamong the great German writers who made their appearance during the lastten years of the eighteenth century; a period--whether from anyextraordinary productiveness in the power that regulates the seed-timeand the harvests of the human race, or from the mighty excitements andstimulants wherewith the world was then teeming--among the richest inthe blossoming of genius. For not to mention the great military talentsfirst developed in those days, among the holders of which were he whoconquered all the continent of Europe, and he before whom that conquerorfell; turning away from the many rank but luxuriant weeds that sprang upin France, after all its plains had been manured with blood; and fixingthe eye solely upon literary excellence, we find in our own country, that the chief part of those men by whom we may hope that the memory ofour days will be transmitted to posterity as a thing precious and to beheld in honour, that Wordsworth, and Coleridge, and Southey, and Lamb, and Landor, and Scott, put forth during those ten years the first-fruitsof their minds; while in Germany, the same period was renderedillustrious by Fichte and John Paul Richter at its commencement, andsubsequently by Schelling, and Hegel, and Steffens, Schleiermacher, andthe Schlegels, and Novalis, and Tieck. Of this noble brotherhood, whoall, I believe, studied at the same university, that of Jena, and whowere all bound together by friendship, by affinity of genius, and byunity of aim, the two latter, Novalis and Tieck, were the poets: forthough there are several things of great poetical beauty in the works ofthe Schlegels, their fame, upon the whole, rests on a different basis. The lovely dreamy mind of Novalis was cut off in the full promise of itsspring; it only just awoke from the blissful visions of its childhood, to breathe forth a few lyrical murmurs about the mysteries it had beenbrooding over, and then fell asleep again. Upon Tieck, therefore, thecharacter of German poetry in the age following those of Goethe andSchiller will mainly depend: and never did Norwegian or Icelandic springburst forth more suddenly than the youth of Ludwig Tieck. I know not inthe whole history of literature, any poet who can count up so many andso great exploits achieved on his first descent into the arena: innumber and variety even Goethe must yield the precedence, though hisyouthful triumphs were _Goetz of Berlichingen_ and _Werther_. There wasin Tieck's early works the promise, and far more than the promise, ofthe greatest dramatic poet whom Europe had seen since the days ofCalderon; there was a rich, elastic, buoyant, comic spirit, not like theanalytical reflection, keen biting wit of Molière and Congreve, andother comic writers of the satirical school, but like the livingmerriment, the uncontrollable, exuberant joyousness, the humour arisingfrom _good_ humour, not, as it often does, from _ill_ humour, theincarnation, so to say, of the principle of mirth, in Shakespeare, andCervantes, and Aristophanes; and as a wreath of flowers to crown thewhole, there was the heavenly purity and starlike loveliness of his_Genoveva_. Had the rest of Tieck's life kept pace with the fertility ofthe six years from 1798 to 1804, he must have been beyond all rivalrythe second of German poets; and as Eschylus in the _Frogs_ shares hissupremacy with Sophocles, so would Goethe have invited Tieck to sitbeside him on his throne. Unfortunately for those who would have feastedupon his fruits, the poet, during the last twenty years, has been soweighed down by almost unintermitting ill health, that he has publishedbut little. There was a short interval indeed that seemed to bid fairer, about the year 1812, when he began to collect his tales and lesserdramas, on a plan something like that of the _Decameron_, in the_Phantasm_, but it has not yet been carried beyond the second reign, outof seven through which it was designed to extend. Of that collection thechief part had been known to the world ten or twelve years before: somethings, however, appeared then for the first time, and among them, Ibelieve, was the tale of _The Love-Charm_. Latterly, Tieck's genius hastaken a new spring, in a somewhat different direction from that of hisyouth. He has written half a dozen novels, in the manner of the couplerecently translated; nor are the others of less excellence than thosetwo; a beautiful tale of magic has also been just published; and thespeedy appearance of several other things that have employed him duringthe long period of seeming inactivity, is promised; wherein he has beenengaged more or less for above a quarter of a century, and to gathermaterials for which he some years since visited England. Of this workthe highest expectations may justly be formed: not many people, even, inthis country, possess a more extensive and accurate acquaintance withour ancient drama than Tieck; no one has entered more fully into thespirit of its great poets, than Tieck has shown himself to have done inthe prefaces to his _Old English Theatre_ and his _Shakespeare'sVorschule_; few have ever bestowed such attention on the history of thestage in all countries, or have so studied the principles of dramaticcomposition and the nature of dramatic effect; hardly any one, I may sayno one, ever learnt so much from Shakespeare: no one, therefore, canhave more to teach us about him; and to judge from the remarks on someof the plays which have already been printed in the _Abendzeitung_, noone was ever so able to trace out the most secret workings of the greatmaster's mind, or to retain his full, calm self-possession whenfollowing him on his highest flights; no one ever united in suchperfection the great critic with the great poet. One may look forward, therefore, with confidence to the greatest work in æsthetical criticismthat even Germany will ever have produced. 

Of the foregoing tale itself little need be said. If the translator hasfailed so grievously that an English reader cannot see its merits, hewould hardly help himself out of the scrape by talking about the effecthe ought to have produced. And grievously he must have failed, if anyreader with a feeling for poetry does not perceive and enjoy the beautyof the descriptions, especially of the two eventful scenes, the powerand passion of the wild dithyramb, the admirable delineation of thecharacters in proportion to their relative importance, and the poeticalharmony and perfect _keeping_ of the whole. Nothing can be more delicatethan the way of softening the horror that might be felt for the bride:she has not even a name, that there may be no distinct object for ourdisgust to fasten on; she is only spoken of under titles of apleasurable meaning; her beauty, like Helen's on the walls of Troy, ismanifested by its effect: the young men are astonished at it; her air ofdeep melancholy impresses even the gayest and most thoughtless, and isthus more powerful than if pages had been employed in giving utteranceto her remorse; besides which, had the latter course been adopted, themain object would have been the wicked heart, not the wicked deed, thesin, not the crime; and sin is always loathsome, whereas a crime mayoften be looked upon with pity. The poet has therefore wisely kept allhis power of characteristic delineation for the two chief persons in thetale; and rarely have any characters been brought out so distinctlywithin a work of such dimensions; the contrast between them runs throughevery feature, yet each is the necessary complement to the other; theabuse which they vent in the ball-room each against his dearest friend, and in the ears of almost a stranger, is in the true style of our frailaffections, veering before the slightest puff of self-will; nor is therea circumstance mentioned about either, which tends not to complete thepicture, and is not all but indispensable. On some occasions a wholelife and character are revealed by a single touch; as for instance whenEmilius exclaims, _No bread! Can such things be?_ No other man couldhave been so ignorant of what goes on in the world, as to marvel at sucha common occurrence; yet Emilius, it is quite certain, would besurprised, when awaked from his dreams, to behold the face of real life;so that this exclamation is, as it were, a great toe from which toconstruct one who is anything rather than a Hercules. Indeed the wholescene of the peasant's marriage, which at first sight may appear like asomewhat idle digression, brought in for no better reason thanamusement, is absolutely necessary to the tale as a work of art: it notonly shows the character of Emilius in a fresh and important point ofview, not only supplies him with fuel, so that he is ready to burn atthe approach of the first spark, as for the former scene he had beenprepared by the arousal of his feelings in the ball-room; which, besides, cast a mysterious haze over the scene, and leave it halfdoubtful how much of the crime was actually perpetrated: the peasant'swedding is necessary as a contrast, as a complement, and as a relief tothe other marriage; nor can that calm and masterly irony, which is amongthe first elements in the mind of a great poet, be more clearlymanifested, than it is here, where the pomp and rejoicing of the greatand wealthy are suddenly turned 'into sorrow and lamentation anddismay;' while the poor and the abashed and the despised are enabled topass their days in what to them is comfort, and to obtain the enjoymentof a day 'unto which in after-times they may look back with delight. '

Everything about the one marriage seems happy; everything about theother seems wretched; but neither is what it seems: they who seem happyare a prey to extravagant and sinful desires; those who seem wretchedhave moderate wishes, and, though they have offended, have not done itwantonly or in malice; they are making what seems to them the onlyatonement in their power, and 'the fellow bears the creature the samegood-will, though she is such a sorry bit of clay'; therefore the end ofeach marriage is according, not unto the outward show and promise, butunto that which lies within the heart. It is thus that poetical justiceendeavours, so far as it may, to anticipate the sentence of Omniscientjustice. 

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. --THE HOUSE OF WEEPING. 

_From Jean Paul Frederick Richter. _

Since the day when the town of Haslau first became the seat of a Court, no man could remember that any one event in its annals (always exceptingthe birth of the hereditary prince) had been looked for with so anxiousa curiosity as the opening of the last will and testament left by Vander Kabel. This Van der Kabel may be styled the Haslau Croesus; andhis whole life might be termed, according to the pleasure of the wits, one long festival of god-sends, or a daily washing of golden sandsnightly impregnated by golden showers of Danæ. Seven distant survivingrelatives of seven distant relatives deceased of the said Van der Kabel, entertained some little hopes of a place amongst his legatees, groundedupon an assurance which he had made, 'that upon his oath he would notfail to _remember them_ in his will. ' These hopes, however, were butfaint and weakly; for they could not repose any extraordinary confidencein his good faith--not only because in all cases he conducted hisaffairs in a disinterested spirit, and with a perverse obstinacy ofmoral principle, whereas his seven relatives were mere novices, andyoung beginners in the trade of morality, --but also because, in allthese moral extravagances of his (so distressing to the feelings of thesincere rascal), he thought proper to be very satirical, and had hisheart so full of odd caprices, tricks, and snares for unsuspiciousscoundrels, that (as they all said) no man who was but raw in the art ofvirtue could deal with him, or place any reliance upon his intentions. Indeed the covert laughter which played about his temples, and thefalsetto tones of his sneering voice, somewhat weakened the advantageousimpression which was made by the noble composition of his face, and by apair of large hands, from which were daily dropping favours little andgreat--benefit nights, Christmas-boxes and New-Year's gifts; for thisreason it was that, by the whole flock of birds who sought shelter inhis boughs, and who fed and built their nests on him, as on any wildservice-tree, he was, notwithstanding, reputed a secret magazine ofspringes; and they were scarce able to find eyes for the visible berrieswhich fed them, in their scrutiny after the supposed gossamer snares. 

In the interval between two apoplectic fits he had drawn up his will, and had deposited it with the magistrate. When he was just at the pointof death he transferred to the seven presumptive heirs the certificateof this deposit; and even then said, in his old tone--how far it wasfrom his expectation, that by any such anticipation of his approachingdecease, he could at all depress the spirits of men so steady andsedate, whom, for his own part, he would much rather regard in the lightof laughing than of weeping heirs; to which remark one only of the wholenumber, namely, Mr. Harprecht, inspector of police, replied as a coolironist to a bitter one--'that the total amount of concern and of_interest_, which might severally belong to them in such a loss, wasnot (they were sincerely sorry it was not) in their power to determine. '

At length the time is come when the seven heirs have made theirappearance at the town-hall, with their certificate--of deposit;_videlicet_, the ecclesiastical councillor Glantz; Harprecht, theinspector of police; Neupeter, the court-agent; the court-fiscal, Knoll;Pasvogel, the bookseller; the reader of the morning lecture, Flacks; andMonsieur Flitte, from Alsace. Solemnly, and in due form, they demandedof the magistrate the schedule of effects consigned to him by the lateKabel, and the opening of his will. The principal executor of this willwas Mr Mayor himself; the sub-executors were the rest of thetown-council. Thereupon, without delay, the schedule and the will werefetched from the register office of the council to the council chamber:both were exhibited in rotation to the members of the council and theheirs, in order that they might see the privy seal of the town impressedupon them: the registry of consignment, indorsed upon the schedule, wasread aloud to the seven heirs by the town-clerk: and by that registry itwas notified to them, that the deceased had actually consigned theschedule to the magistrate, and entrusted it to the corporation-chest;and that on the day of consignment he was still of sound mind: finally, the seven seals, which he had himself affixed to the instrument, werefound unbroken. These preliminaries gone through, it was now (but notuntil a brief registry of all these forms had been drawn up by thetown-clerk) lawful, in God's name, that the will should be opened andread aloud by Mr Mayor, word for word as follows:--

'I, Van der Kabel, on this 7th day of May, 179-, being in my house atHaslau, situate in Dog-street, deliver and make known this for my lastwill; and without many millions of words, notwithstanding I have beenboth a German notary and a Dutch schoolmaster. Howsoever I may disgracemy old professions by this parsimony of words, I believe myself to be sofar at home in the art and calling of a notary, that I am competent toact for myself as a testator in due form, and as a regular devisor ofproperty. 

'It is a custom of testators to premise the moving causes of theirwills. These, in my case, as in most others, are regard for my happydeparture, and for the disposal of the succession to my property--which, by the way, is the object of a tender passion in various quarters. Tosay anything about my funeral, and all that, would be absurd and stupid. This, and what shape my remains shall take, let the eternal sun settleabove, not in any gloomy winter, but in some of his most verdantsprings. 

'As to those charitable foundations and memorial institutions ofbenevolence, about which notaries are so much occupied, in my case Iappoint as follows: to three thousand of my poor townsmen of everyclass, I assign just the same number of florins, which sum I will that, on the anniversary of my death, they shall spend in feasting upon thetown common, where they are previously to pitch their camp, unless themilitary camp of his Serene Highness shall be already pitched there, inpreparation for the reviews; and when the gala is ended, I would havethem cut up the tents into clothes. Item, to all the school-masters inour locality I bequeath one golden augustus. Item, to the Jews of thisplace I bequeath my pew in the high church. --As I would wish that mywill should be divided into clauses, this is considered to be the first. 

 * * * * *

CLAUSE II. 

'Amongst the important offices of a will, it is universally agreed to beone, that from amongst the presumptive and presumptuous expectants, itshould name those who are, and those who are not, to succeed to theinheritance; that it should create heirs and destroy them. In conformity tothis notion, I give and bequeath to Mr Glantz, the councillor forecclesiastical affairs, as also to Mr Knoll, the exchequer officer; likewiseto Mr Peter Neupeter, the court-agent; item to Mr Harprecht, director ofpolice; furthermore to Mr Flacks, the morning lecturer; in like manner tothe court-bookseller, Mr Pasvogel; and finally to Monsieur Flitte, --nothing;not so much because they have no just claims upon me--standing, as they do, in the remotest possible degree of consanguinity; nor again, because theyare for the most part themselves rich enough to leave handsome inheritances;as because I am assured, indeed I have it from their own lips, that theyentertain a far stronger regard for my insignificant person than for mysplendid property; my body, therefore, or as large a portion of it as theycan get, I bequeath to them. '

At this point seven faces, like those of the Seven Sleepers, graduallyelongated into preternatural extent. The ecclesiastical councillor, a youngman, but already famous throughout Germany for his sermons printed orpreached, was especially aggrieved by such offensive personality; MonsieurFlitte rapped out a curse that rattled even in the ears of magistracy; thechin of Flacks the morning lecturer gravitated downwards into the dimensionsof a patriarchal beard; and the town-council could distinguish an assortmentof audible reproaches to the memory of Mr Kabel, such as prig, rascal, profane wretch, &c. But the Mayor motioned with his hand, and immediatelythe fiscal and the bookseller recomposed their features and set their faceslike so many traps with springs, and triggers, at full cock, that they mightcatch every syllable; and then with a gravity that cost him some efforts:--

 * * * * *

CLAUSE III. 

'Excepting always, and be it excepted, my present house in Dog-street: whichhouse by virtue of this third clause is to descend and to pass in fullproperty just as it now stands, to that one of my seven relativesabove-mentioned, who shall, within the space of one half-hour (to becomputed from the reciting of this clause), shed, to the memory of me hisdeparted kinsman, sooner than the other six competitors, one, or, ifpossible, a couple of tears, in the presence of a respectable magistrate, who is to make a protocol thereof. Should, however, _all remain dry_, inthat case, the house must lapse to the heir-general--whom I shall proceed toname. '

Here Mr Mayor closed the will: doubtless, he observed, the condition annexedto the bequest was an unusual one, but yet, in no respect contrary to law:to him that wept the first the court was bound to adjudge the house: andthen placing his watch on the session table, the pointers of which indicatedthat it was now just half-past eleven, he calmly sat down--that he mightduly witness in his official character of executor, assisted by the wholecourt of aldermen, who should be the first to produce the requisite tear ortears on behalf of the testator. 

That since the terraqueous globe has moved or existed, there can everhave met a more lugubrious congress, or one more out of temper andenraged than this of Seven United Provinces, as it were, all dry and allconfederated for the purpose of weeping, --I suppose no impartial judgewill believe. At first some invaluable minutes were lost in pureconfusion of mind, in astonishment, in peals of laughter: the congressfound itself too suddenly translated into the condition of the dog towhich, in the very moment of his keenest assault upon some object of hisappetite, the fiend cried out--Halt! Whereupon, standing up as he was, on his hind legs, his teeth grinning, and snarling with the fury ofdesire, he halted and remained petrified:--from the graspings of hope, however distant, to the necessity of weeping for a wager, the congressfound the transition too abrupt and harsh. 

One thing was evident to all--that for a shower that was to come down atsuch a full gallop, for a baptism of the eyes to be performed at such ahunting pace, it was vain to think of any pure water of grief: nohydraulics could effect this: yet in twenty-six minutes (fourunfortunately were already gone), in one way or other, perhaps, somebusiness might be done. 

'Was there ever such a cursed act, ' said the merchant Neupeter, 'such aprice of buffoonery enjoined by any man of sense and discretion? For mypart, I can't understand what the d----l it means. ' However, heunderstood this much, that a house was by possibility floating in hispurse upon a tear: and _that_ was enough to cause a violent irritationin his lachrymal glands. 

Knoll, the fiscal, was screwing up, twisting, and distorting hisfeatures pretty much in the style of a poor artisan on Saturday night, whom some fellow-workman is bar_ber_ously razoring and scraping by thelight of a cobbler's candle: furious was his wrath at this abuse andprofanation of the title _Last Will and Testament_: and at one time, poor soul! he was near enough to tears--of vexation. 

The wily bookseller, Pasvogel, without loss of time, sate down quietlyto business: he ran through a cursory retrospect of all the works anyways moving or affecting that he had himself either published or sold oncommission;--took a flying survey of the pathetic in general: and inthis way of going to work, he had fair expectations that in the end heshould brew something or other: as yet, however, he looked very muchlike a dog who is slowly licking off an emetic which the Parisiansurgeon Demet has administered by smearing it on his nose:time--gentlemen, time was required for the operation. 

Monsieur Flitte, from Alsace, fairly danced up and down the sessionschamber; with bursts of laughter he surveyed the rueful faces aroundhim: he confessed that he was not the richest among them, but for thewhole city of Strasburg, and Alsace to boot, he was not the man thatcould or would weep on such a merry occasion. He went on with hisunseasonable laughter and indecent mirth, until Harprecht, the policeinspector, looked at him very significantly, and said--that perhapsMonsieur flattered himself that he might by means of laughter squeeze orexpress the tears required from the well-known meibomian glands, thecaruncula, &c. , and might thus piratically provide himself withsurreptitious rain;[18] but in that case, he must remind him that hewould no more win the day with any such secretions than he could carryto account a course of sneezes or wilfully blowing his nose; a channelinto which it was well known that very many tears, far more than werenow wanted, flowed out of the eyes through the nasal duct; more indeedby a good deal than were ever known to flow downwards to the bottom ofmost pews at a funeral sermon. Monsieur Flitte of Alsace, however, protested that he was laughing out of pure fun, for his own amusement;and, upon his honour, with no _ulterior views_. 

[18] In the original, the word is Fenster schweiss, window-sweat, _i. E. _ (as the translator understands the passage) Monsieur Flitte wassuspected of a design to swindle the company by exhibiting his twowindows streaming with spurious moisture, such as hoar frost produces onthe windows when melted by the heat of the room, rather than with thegenuine and unadulterated rain which Mr Kabel demanded. 

The inspector on his side, being pretty well acquainted with thehopeless condition of his own dephlegmatised heart, endeavoured to forceinto his eyes something that might meet the occasion by staring withthem wide open and in a state of rigid expansion. 

The morning-lecturer, Flacks, looked like a Jew beggar mounted on astallion which is running away with him: meantime, what by domestictribulations, what by those he witnessed at his own lecture, his heartwas furnished with such a promising bank of heavy-laden clouds, that hecould easily have delivered upon the spot the main quantity of waterrequired had it not been for the house which floated on the top of thestorm; and which, just as all was ready, came driving in with the tide, too gay and gladsome a spectacle not to banish his gloom, and thusfairly dammed up the waters. 

The ecclesiastical councillor--who had become acquainted with his ownnature by long experience in preaching funeral sermons, and sermons onthe New Year, and knew full well that he was himself always the firstperson and frequently the last, to be affected by the pathos of his owneloquence--now rose with dignified solemnity, on seeing himself and theothers hanging so long by the dry rope, and addressed the chamber:--Noman, he said, who had read his printed works, could fail to know that hecarried a heart about him as well as other people; and a heart, he wouldadd, that had occasion to repress such holy testimonies of itstenderness as tears, lest he should thereby draw too heavily on thesympathies and the purses of his fellow-men, rather than elaborately toprovoke them by stimulants for any secondary views, or to serve anindirect purpose of his own: 'This heart, ' said he, 'has already shedtears (but they were already shed secretly), for Kabel was my friend;'and, so saying, he paused for a moment and looked about him. 

With pleasure he observed that all were sitting as dry as corks: indeed, at this particular moment, when he himself, by interrupting theirseveral water-works, had made them furiously angry, it might as wellhave been expected that crocodiles, fallow-deer, elephants, witches, orravens should weep for Van der Kabel, as his presumptive heirs. Amongthem all, Flacks was the only one who continued to make way: he keptsteadily before his mind the following little extempore assortment ofobjects:--Van der Kabel's good and beneficent acts; the old petticoatsso worn and tattered, and the gray hair of his female congregation atmorning service; Lazarus with his dogs; his own long coffin; innumerabledecapitations; the Sorrows of Werther; a miniature field of battle; andfinally, himself and his own melancholy condition at this moment, itselfenough to melt any heart, condemned as he was in the bloom of youth bythe second clause of Van der Kabel's will to tribulation, and tears, andstruggles:--Well done, Flacks! Three strokes more with the pump-handle, and the water is pumped up and the house along with it. 

Meantime Glantz, the ecclesiastical councillor, proceeded in hispathetic harangue--'Oh, Kabel, my Kabel!' he ejaculated, and almost weptwith joy at the near approach of his tears, 'the time shall come that bythe side of thy loving breast, covered with earth, mine also shall liemouldering and in cor----' _ruption_ he would have said; but Flacks, starting up in trouble, and with eyes overflowing, threw a hasty glancearound him, and said, 'With submission, gentlemen, to the best of mybelief I am weeping. ' Then sitting down, with great satisfaction heallowed the tears to stream down his face; that done, he soon recoveredhis cheerfulness and his _aridity_. Glantz the councillor thus saw theprize fished away before his eyes--those very eyes which he had alreadybrought into an _Accessit_, [19] or inchoate state of humidity; thisvexed him: and his mortification was the greater on thinking of his ownpathetic exertions, and the abortive appetite for the prize which he hadthus uttered in words as ineffectual as his own sermons; and at thismoment he was ready to weep for spite--and 'to weep the more because hewept in vain. ' As to Flacks, a protocol was immediately drawn up of hiswatery compliance with the will of Van der Kabel: and the messuage inDog-street was knocked down to him for ever. The Mayor adjudged it tothe poor devil with all his heart: indeed, this was the first occasionever known in Haslau, on which the tears of a schoolmaster and a curatehad converted themselves--not into mere amber that incloses only aworthless insect, like the tears of Heliodes, but like those of thegoddess Freia, into heavy gold. Glantz congratulated Flacks verywarmly; and observed with a smiling air, that possibly he had himselflent him a helping hand by his pathetic address. As to the others, theseparation between them and Flacks was too palpable, in the mortifyingdistinction of _wet_ and _dry_, to allow of any cordiality between them;and they stood aloof therefore: but they stayed to hear the rest of thewill, which they now awaited in a state of anxious agitation. 

[19] To the English reader it may be necessary to explain, that in thecontinental universities, etc. , when a succession of prizes is offered, graduated according to the degrees of merit, the illiptical formula of'_Accessit_' denotes the second prize; and hence, where only a singleprize is offered, the second degree of merit may properly be expressedby the term here used. 

THE HOUSEHOLD WRECK. 

'_To be weak_, ' we need not the great archangel's voice to tell us, '_isto be miserable_. ' All weakness is suffering and humiliation, no matterfor its mode or its subject. Beyond all other weakness, therefore, andby a sad prerogative, as more miserable than what is most miserable inall, that capital weakness of man which regards the _tenure_ of hisenjoyments and his power to protect, even for a moment, the crown offlowers--flowers, at the best, how frail and few!--which sometimessettles upon his haughty brow. There is no end, there never will be anend, of the lamentations which ascend from earth and the rebelliousheart of her children, upon this huge opprobrium of human pride--theeverlasting mutabilities of all which man can grasp by his power or byhis aspirations, the fragility of all which he inherits, and thehollowness visible amid the very raptures of enjoyment to every eyewhich looks for a moment underneath the draperies of the shadowy_present_--the hollowness--the blank treachery of hollowness, upon whichall the pomps and vanities of life ultimately repose. This trite butunwearying theme, this impassioned commonplace of humanity, is thesubject in every age of variation without end, from the Poet, theRhetorician, the Fabulist, the Moralist, the Divine, and thePhilosopher. All, amidst the sad vanity of their sighs and groans, labour to put on record and to establish this monotonous complaint, which needs not other record or evidence than those very sighs andgroans. What is life? Darkness and formless vacancy for a beginning, orsomething beyond all beginning--then next a dim lotos of humanconsciousness, finding itself afloat upon the bosom of waters without ashore--then a few sunny smiles and many tears--a little love andinfinite strife--whisperings from paradise and fierce mockeries from theanarchy of chaos--dust and ashes--and once more darkness circling round, as if from the beginning, and in this way rounding or making an islandof our fantastic existence, --_that_ is human life; _that_ the inevitableamount of man's laughter and his tears--of what he suffers and hedoes--of his motions this way and that way--to the right or to theleft--backwards or forwards--of all his seeming realities and all hisabsolute negations--his shadowy pomps and his pompous shadows--ofwhatsoever he thinks, finds, makes or mars, creates or animates, loves, hates, or in dread hope anticipates;--so it is, so it has been, so itwill be, for ever and ever. 

Yet in the lowest deep there still yawns a lower deep; and in the vasthalls of man's frailty there are separate and more gloomy chambers of afrailty more exquisite and consummate. We account it frailty thatthreescore years and ten make the upshot of man's pleasurable existence, and that, far before that time is reached, his beauty and his power havefallen among weeds and forgetfulness. But there is a frailty, bycomparison with which this ordinary flux of the human race seems to havea vast duration. Cases there are, and those not rare, in which a singleweek--a day--an hour sweeps away all vestiges and landmarks of amemorable felicity; in which the ruin travels faster than the flyingshowers upon the mountain-side, faster 'than a musician scatterssounds;' in which 'it was' and 'it is not' are words of the self-sametongue, in the self-same minute; in which the sun that at noon beheldall sound and prosperous, long before its setting hour looks out upon atotal wreck, and sometimes upon the total abolition of any fugitivememorial that there ever had been a vessel to be wrecked, or a wreck tobe obliterated. 

These cases, though here spoken of rhetorically, are of dailyoccurrence; and, though they may seem few by comparison with theinfinite millions of the species, they are many indeed, if they bereckoned absolutely for themselves; and throughout the limits of a wholenation, not a day passes over us but many families are robbed of theirheads, or even swallowed up in ruin themselves, or their course turnedout of the sunny beams into a dark wilderness. Shipwrecks and nightlyconflagrations are sometimes, and especially among some nations, wholesale calamities; battles yet more so; earthquakes, the famine, thepestilence, though rarer, are visitations yet wider in their desolation. Sickness and commercial ill-luck, if narrower, are more frequentscourges. And most of all, or with most darkness in its train, comes thesickness of the brain--lunacy--which, visiting nearly one thousand inevery million, must, in every populous nation, make many ruins in eachparticular day. 'Babylon in ruins, ' says a great author, 'is not so sada sight as a human soul overthrown by lunacy. ' But there is a saddereven than _that_, --the sight of a family-ruin wrought by crime is evenmore appalling. Forgery, breaches of trust, embezzlement, of private orpublic funds--(a crime sadly on the increase since the example ofFauntleroy, and the suggestion of its great feasibility first made byhim)--these enormities, followed too often, and countersigned for theirfinal result to the future happiness of families, by the appallingcatastrophe of suicide, must naturally, in every wealthy nation, orwherever property and the modes of property are much developed, constitute the vast majority of all that come under the review of publicjustice. Any of these is sufficient to make shipwreck of all peace andcomfort for a family; and often, indeed, it happens that the desolationis accomplished within the course of one revolving sun; often the wholedire catastrophe, together with its total consequences, is bothaccomplished and made known to those whom it chiefly concerns within oneand the same hour. The mighty Juggernaut of social life, moving onwardswith its everlasting thunders, pauses not for a moment to spare--topity--to look aside, but rushes forward for ever, impassive as themarble in the quarry--caring not for whom it destroys, for the how many, or for the results, direct and indirect, whether many or few. Theincreasing grandeur and magnitude of the social system, the more itmultiplies and extends its victims, the more it conceals them; and forthe very same reason: just as in the Roman amphitheatres, when they grewto the magnitude of mighty cities (in some instances accommodating400, 000 spectators, in many a fifth part of that amount), births anddeaths became ordinary events, which, in a small modern theatre, arerare and memorable; and exactly as these prodigious accidentsmultiplied, _pari passu_, they were disregarded and easily concealed:for curiosity was no longer excited; the sensation attached to them waslittle or none. 

From these terrific tragedies, which, like monsoons or tornadoes, accomplish the work of years in an hour, not merely an impressive lessonis derived, sometimes, perhaps, a warning, but also (and this is ofuniversal application) some consolation. Whatever may have been themisfortunes or the sorrows of a man's life, he is still privileged toregard himself and his friends as amongst the fortunate by comparison, in so far as he has escaped these wholesale storms, either as an actorin producing them, or a contributor to their violence--or even moreinnocently (though oftentimes not less miserably)--as a participator inthe instant ruin, or in the long arrears of suffering which theyentail. 

 * * * * *

The following story falls within the class of hasty tragedies, and suddendesolations here described. The reader is assured that every incident isstrictly true: nothing, in that respect, has been altered; nor, indeed, anywhere except in the conversations, of which, though the results andgeneral outline are known, the separate details have necessarily been lostunder the agitating circumstances which produced them. It has been judgedright and delicate to conceal the name of the great city, and therefore ofthe nation in which these events occurred, chiefly out of consideration forthe descendants of one person concerned in the narrative: otherwise, itmight not have been requisite: for it is proper to mention, that everyperson directly a party to the case has been long laid in the grave: all ofthem, with one solitary exception, upwards of fifty years. 

 * * * * *

It was early spring in the year 17--; the day was the 6th of April; and theweather, which had been of a wintry fierceness for the preceding six orseven weeks--cold indeed beyond anything known for many years, gloomy forever, and broken by continual storms--was now by a Swedish transformationall at once bright--genial--heavenly. So sudden and so early a prelusion ofsummer, it was generally feared, could not last. But that only madeeverybody the more eager to lose no hour of an enjoyment that might prove sofleeting. It seemed as if the whole population of the place, a populationamong the most numerous in Christendom, had been composed of hybernatinganimals suddenly awakened by the balmy sunshine from their long winter'storpor. Through every hour of the golden morning the streets were resonantwith female parties of young and old, the timid and the bold, nay even ofthe most delicate valetudinarians, now first tempted to lay aside theirwintry clothing together with their fireside habits, whilst the whole ruralenvirons of our vast city, the woodlands, and the interminable meadows begandaily to re-echo the glad voices of the young and jovial awaking once again, like the birds and the flowers, and universal nature, to the luxurioushappiness of this most delightful season. 

Happiness do I say? Yes, happiness; happiness to me above all others. For Ialso in those days was among the young and the gay; I was healthy; I wasstrong; I was prosperous in a worldly sense! I owed no man a shilling;feared no man's face; shunned no man's presence. I held a respectablestation in society; I was myself, let me venture to say it, respectedgenerally for my personal qualities, apart from any advantages I might drawfrom fortune or inheritance; I had reason to think myself popular amongstthe very slender circle of my acquaintance; and finally, which perhaps wasthe crowning grace to all these elements of happiness, I suffered not fromthe presence of _ennui_; nor ever feared to suffer: for my temperament wasconstitutionally ardent; I had a powerful animal sensibility; and I knew theone great secret for maintaining its equipoise, viz. By powerful dailyexercise; and thus I lived in the light and presence, or (if I should not besuspected of seeking rhetorical expressions, I would say)--in one eternalsolstice, of unclouded hope. 

These, you will say, were blessings; these were golden elements of felicity. They were so; and yet, with the single exception of my healthy frame andfirm animal organisation, I feel that I have mentioned hitherto nothing butwhat by comparison might be thought of a vulgar quality. All the otheradvantages that I have enumerated, had they been yet wanting, might havebeen acquired; had they been forfeited, might have been reconquered; hadthey been even irretrievably lost, might, by a philosophic effort, havebeen dispensed with; compensations might have been found for any of them, many equivalents, or if not, consolations at least, for their absence. Butnow it remains to speak of other blessings too mighty to be valued, notmerely as transcending in rank and dignity all other constituents ofhappiness, but for a reason far sadder than that--because, once lost, theywere incapable of restoration, and because not to be dispensed with;blessings in which 'either we must live or have no life:' lights to thedarkness of our paths and to the infirmity of our steps--which, onceextinguished, never more on this side the gates of Paradise can any man hopeto see re-illumined for himself. Amongst these I may mention an intellect, whether powerful or not in itself, at any rate most elaborately cultivated;and, to say the truth, I had little other business before me in this lifethan to pursue this lofty and delightful task. I may add, as a blessing, notin the same _positive_ sense as that which I have just mentioned, becausenot of a nature to contribute so hourly to the employment of the thoughts, but yet in this sense equal, that the absence of either would have been anequal affliction, --namely, a conscience void of all offence. It was littleindeed that I, drawn by no necessities of situation into temptations of thatnature, had done no injury to any man. That was fortunate; but I could notmuch value myself upon what was so much an accident of my situation. Something, however, I might pretend to beyond this _negative_ merit; for Ihad originally a benign nature; and, as I advanced in years andthoughtfulness, the gratitude which possessed me for my own exceedinghappiness led me to do that by principle and system which I had alreadydone upon blind impulse; and thus upon a double argument I was incapable ofturning away from the prayer of the afflicted, whatever had been thesacrifice to myself. Hardly, perhaps, could it have been said in asufficient sense at that time that I was a religious man: yet undoubtedly Ihad all the foundations within me upon which religion might hereafter havegrown. My heart overflowed with thankfulness to Providence: I had a naturaltone of unaffected piety; and thus far at least I might have been called areligious man, that in the simplicity of truth I could have exclaimed, 'O, Abner, I fear God, and I fear none beside. '

But wherefore seek to delay ascending by a natural climax to that finalconsummation and perfect crown of my felicity--that almighty blessing whichratified their value to all the rest? Wherefore, oh! wherefore do I shrinkin miserable weakness from----what? Is it from reviving, from calling upagain into fierce and insufferable light the images and features of along-buried happiness? That would be a natural shrinking and a reasonableweakness. But how escape from reviving, whether I give it utterance or not, that which is for ever vividly before me? What need to call into artificiallight that which, whether sleeping or waking--by night or by day--foreight-and-thirty years has seemed by its miserable splendour to scorch mybrain? Wherefore shrink from giving language, simple vocal utterance, tothat burden of anguish which by so long an endurance has lost no atom of itsweight, nor can gain any most surely by the loudest publication? Need therecan be none, after this, to say that the priceless blessing, which I haveleft to the final place in this ascending review, was the companion of mylife--my darling and youthful wife. Oh! dovelike woman! fated in an hour themost defenceless to meet with the ravening vulture, --lamb fallen amongstwolves, --trembling--fluttering fawn, whose path was inevitably to be crossedby the bloody tiger;--angel, whose most innocent heart fitted thee for tooearly a flight from this impure planet; if indeed it were a necessity thatthou shouldst find no rest for thy footing except amidst thy native heavens, if indeed to leave what was not worthy of thee were a destiny not to beevaded--a summons not to be put by, --yet why, why, again and again Idemand--why was it also necessary that this thy departure, so full of wo tome, should also to thyself be heralded by the pangs of martyrdom? Saintedlove, if, like the ancient children of the Hebrews, like Meshech andAbednego, thou wert called by divine command, whilst yet almost a child, towalk, and to walk alone, through the fiery furnace, --wherefore then couldstnot thou, like that Meshech and that Abednego, walk unsinged by the dreadfultorment, and come forth unharmed? Why, if the sacrifice were to be total, was it necessary to reach it by so dire a struggle? and if the cup, thebitter cup, of final separation from those that were the light of thy eyesand the pulse of thy heart might not be put aside, --yet wherefore was itthat thou mightst not drink it up in the natural peace which belongs to asinless heart?

But these are murmurings, you will say, rebellious murmurings againstthe proclamations of God. Not so: I have long since submitted myself, resigned myself, nay even reconciled myself, perhaps, to the great wreckof my life, in so far as it was the will of God, and according to theweakness of my imperfect nature. But my wrath still rises, like atowering flame, against all the earthly instruments of this ruin; I amstill at times as unresigned as ever to this tragedy, in so far as itwas the work of human malice. Vengeance, as a mission for _me_, as atask for _my_ hands in particular, is no longer possible; thethunder-bolts of retribution have been long since launched by otherhands; and yet still it happens that at times I do--I must--I shallperhaps to the hour of death, rise in maniac fury, and seek, in the veryimpotence of vindictive madness, groping as it were in blindness ofheart, for that tiger from hell-gates that tore away my darling from myheart. Let me pause, and interrupt this painful strain, to say a word ortwo upon what she was--and how far worthy of a love more honourable toher (that was possible) and deeper (but that was not possible) thanmine. When first I saw her, she--my Agnes--was merely a child, not much(if anything) above sixteen. But, as in perfect womanhood she retained amost childlike expression of countenance, so even then in absolutechildhood she put forward the blossoms and the dignity of a woman. Never yet did my eye light upon creature that was born of woman, norcould it enter my heart to conceive one, possessing a figure morematchless in its proportions, more statuesque, and more deliberately andadvisedly to be characterised by no adequate word but the word_magnificent_ (a word too often and lightly abused). In reality, speaking of women, I have seen many beautiful figures, but hardly oneexcept Agnes that could without hyperbole be styled truly and memorablymagnificent. Though in the first order of tall women, yet, being full inperson, and with a symmetry that was absolutely faultless, she seemed tothe random sight as little above the ordinary height. Possibly from thedignity of her person, assisted by the dignity of her movements, astranger would have been disposed to call her at a distance a woman of_commanding_ presence; but never after he had approached near enough tobehold her face. Every thought of artifice--of practised effect--or ofhaughty pretension, fled before the childlike innocence--the sweetfeminine timidity--and the more than cherub loveliness of thatcountenance, which yet in its lineaments was noble, whilst itsexpression was purely gentle and confiding. A shade of pensiveness therewas about her; but _that_ was in her manners, scarcely ever in herfeatures; and the exquisite fairness of her complexion, enriched by thevery sweetest and most delicate bloom that ever I have beheld, shouldrather have allied it to a tone of cheerfulness. Looking at this noblecreature, as I first looked at her, when yet upon the early threshold ofwomanhood--

 'With household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty'--

you might have supposed her some Hebe or young Aurora of the dawn. Whenyou saw only her superb figure, and its promise of womanly development, with the measured dignity of her step, you might for a moment havefancied her some imperial Medea of the Athenian stage--some Volumniafrom Rome, 'Or ruling bandit's wife amidst the Grecian isles. '

But catch one glance from her angelic countenance--and then combiningthe face and the person, you would have dismissed all such fancies, andhave pronounced her a Pandora or an Eve, expressly accomplished and heldforth by nature as an exemplary model or ideal pattern for the futurefemale sex:

 'A perfect woman, nobly plann'd, To warn, to comfort, to command: And yet a spirit too, and bright With something of an angel light. '

To this superb young woman, such as I have here sketched her, Isurrendered my heart for ever, almost from my first opportunity ofseeing her: for so natural and without disguise was her character, andso winning the simplicity of her manners, due in part to her own nativedignity of mind, and in part to the deep solitude in which she had beenreared, that little penetration was required to put me in possession ofall her thoughts; and to win her love, not very much more than to lether see, as see she could not avoid, in connection with that chivalroushomage which at any rate was due to her sex and her sexual perfections, a love for herself on my part, which was in its nature as exalted apassion and as profoundly rooted as any merely human affection can everyet have been. 

On the seventeenth birthday of Agnes we were married. Oh! calendar ofeverlasting months--months that, like the mighty rivers, shall flow onfor ever, immortal as thou, Nile, or Danube, Euphrates, or St. Lawrence!and ye, summer and winter, day and night, wherefore do you bring roundcontinually your signs, and seasons, and revolving hours, that stillpoint and barb the anguish of local recollections, telling me of thisand that celestial morning that never shall return, and of too blessedexpectations, travelling like yourselves through a heavenly zodiac ofchanges, till at once and for ever they sank into the grave! Often do Ithink of seeking for some quiet cell either in the Tropics or in Arcticlatitudes, where the changes of the year, and the external signscorresponding to them, express themselves by no features like those inwhich the same seasons are invested under our temperate climes: so that, if knowing, we cannot at least feel the identity of their revolutions. We were married, I have said, on the birthday--the seventeenthbirthday--of Agnes; and pretty nearly on her eighteenth it was that sheplaced me at the summit of my happiness, whilst for herself she thuscompleted the circle of her relations to this life's duties, bypresenting me with a son. Of this child, knowing how wearisome tostrangers is the fond exultation of parents, I shall simply say, that heinherited his mother's beauty; the same touching loveliness andinnocence of expression, the same chiselled nose--mouth--and chin, thesame exquisite auburn hair. In many other features, not of personmerely, but also of mind and manners, as they gradually began to openbefore me, this child deepened my love to him by recalling the image ofhis mother; and what other image was there that I so much wished to keepbefore me, whether waking or asleep? At the time to which I am nowcoming but too rapidly, this child, still our only one, and unusuallypremature, was within four months of completing his third year;consequently Agnes was at that time in her twenty-first year; and I mayhere add, with respect to myself, that I was in my twenty-sixth. 

But before I come to that period of wo, let me say one word on thetemper of mind which so fluent and serene a current of prosperity may bethought to have generated. Too common a course I know it is, when thestream of life flows with absolute tranquillity, and ruffled by nomenace of a breeze--the azure overhead never dimmed by a passing cloud, that in such circumstances the blood stagnates: life, from excess andplethora of sweets, becomes insipid: the spirit of action droops: and itis oftentimes found at such seasons that slight annoyances andmolestations, or even misfortunes in a lower key, are not whollyundesirable, as means of stimulating the lazy energies, and disturbing aslumber which is, or soon will be, morbid in its character. I have knownmyself cases not a few, where, by the very nicest gradations, and bysteps too silent and insensible for daily notice, the utmost harmony andreciprocal love had shaded down into fretfulness and petulance, purelyfrom too easy a life, and because all nobler agitations that might haveruffled the sensations occasionally, and all distresses even on thenarrowest scale that might have reawakened the solicitudes of love, byopening necessities for sympathy--for counsel--or for mutual aid, hadbeen shut out by foresight too elaborate, or by prosperity too cloying. But all this, had it otherwise been possible with my particular mind, and at my early age, was utterly precluded by one remarkable peculiarityin my temper. Whether it were that I derived from nature some jealousyand suspicion of all happiness which seems too perfect and unalloyed--[aspirit of restless distrust which in ancient times often led men tothrow valuable gems into the sea, in the hope of thus propitiating thedire deity of misfortune, by voluntarily breaking the fearful chain ofprosperity, and led some of them to weep and groan when the gems thussacrificed were afterwards brought back to their hands by simplefishermen, who had recovered them in the intestines of fishes--aportentous omen, which was interpreted into a sorrowful indication thatthe Deity thus answered the propitiatory appeal, and made solemnproclamation that he had rejected it]--whether, I say, it were thisspirit of jealousy awaked in me by too steady and too profound afelicity--or whether it were that great overthrows and calamities havesome mysterious power to send forward a dim misgiving of their advancingfootsteps, and really and indeed

 'That in to-day already walks to-morrow;'--

or whether it were partly, as I have already put the case in my firstsupposition, a natural instinct of distrust, but irritated and enlivenedby a particular shock of superstitious alarm; which, or whether any ofthese causes it were that kept me apprehensive, and on the watch fordisastrous change, I will not here undertake to determine. Too certainit is that I was so. I never ridded myself of an over-mastering andbrooding sense, shadowy and vague, a dim abiding feeling (that sometimeswas and sometimes was not exalted into a conscious presentiment) of somegreat calamity travelling towards me; not perhaps immediatelyimpending--perhaps even at a great distance; but already--dating fromsome secret hour--already in motion upon some remote line of approach. This feeling I could not assuage by sharing it with Agnes. No motivecould be strong enough for persuading me to communicate so gloomy athought with one who, considering her extreme healthiness, was but tooremarkably prone to pensive, if not to sorrowful contemplations. Andthus the obligation which I felt to silence and reserve, strengthenedthe morbid impression I had received; whilst the remarkable incident Ihave adverted to served powerfully to rivet the superstitious chainwhich was continually gathering round me. The incident was this--andbefore I repeat it, let me pledge my word of honour, that I report toyou the bare facts of the case, without exaggeration, and in thesimplicity of truth:--There was at that time resident in the great citywhich is the scene of my narrative a woman, from some part of Hungary, who pretended to the gift of looking into futurity. She had made herselfknown advantageously in several of the greatest cities of Europe underthe designation of the Hungarian Prophetess; and very extraordinaryinstances were cited amongst the highest circles of her success in theart which she professed. So ample were the pecuniary tributes which shelevied upon the hopes and the fears, or the simple curiosity of thearistocracy, that she was thus able to display not unfrequently adisinterestedness and a generosity, which seemed native to herdisposition, amongst the humbler classes of her applicants; for sherejected no addresses that were made to her, provided only they were notexpressed in levity or scorn, but with sincerity, and in a spirit ofconfiding respect. It happened, on one occasion, when a nursery-servantof ours was waiting in her anteroom for the purpose of taking her turnin consulting the prophetess professionally, that she had witnessed ascene of consternation and unaffected maternal grief in this Hungarianlady upon the sudden seizure of her son, a child of four or five yearsold, by a spasmodic inflammation of the throat (since called croup), peculiar to children, and in those days not very well understood bymedical men. The poor Hungarian, who had lived chiefly in warm, or atleast not damp climates, and had never so much as heard of thiscomplaint, was almost wild with alarm at the rapid increase of thesymptoms which attend the paroxysms, and especially of that loud anddistressing sound which marks the impeded respiration. Great, therefore, was her joy and gratitude on finding from our servant that she hadherself been in attendance more than once upon cases of the same nature, but very much more violent, --and that, consequently, she was wellqualified to suggest and to superintend all the measures of instantnecessity, such as the hot-bath, the peculiar medicines, &c. , which arealmost sure of success when applied in an early stage. Staying to giveher assistance until a considerable improvement had taken place in thechild, our servant then hurried home to her mistress. Agnes, it may beimagined, despatched her back with such further and more precisedirections as in a very short time availed to re-establish the child inconvalescence. These practical services, and the messages of maternalsympathy repeatedly conveyed from Agnes, had completely won the heart ofthe grateful Hungarian, and she announced her intention of calling withher little boy, to make her personal acknowledgments for the kindnesswhich had been shown to her. She did so, and we were as much impressedby the sultana-like style of her Oriental beauty, as she, on her part, was touched and captivated by the youthful loveliness of my angelicwife. After sitting for above an hour, during which time she talked witha simplicity and good feeling that struck us as remarkable in a personprofessing an art usually connected with so much of conscious fraud, sherose to take her leave. I must mention that she had previously had ourlittle boy sitting on her knee, and had at intervals thrown a hastyglance upon the palms of his hands. On parting, Agnes, with her usualfrankness, held out her hand. The Hungarian took it with an air of sadsolemnity, pressed it fervently, and said, --'Lady, it is my part in thislife to look behind the curtain of fate; and oftentimes I see suchsights in futurity--some near, some far off--as willingly I would _not_see. For you, young and charming lady, looking like that angel which youare, no destiny can be equal to your deserts. Yet sometimes, true it is, God sees not as man sees; and He ordains, after His unfathomablecounsels, to the heavenly-minded a portion in heaven, and to thechildren whom He loves a rest and a haven not built with hands. Something that I have seen dimly warns me to look no farther. Yet, ifyou desire it, I will do my office, and I will read for you with truththe lines of fate as they are written upon your hands. ' Agnes was alittle startled, or even shocked, by this solemn address; but, in aminute or so, a mixed feeling--one half of which was curiosity, and theother half a light-hearted mockery of her own mysterious awe in thepresence of what she had been taught to view as either fraud orinsanity--prompted her playfully to insist upon the fullest applicationof the Hungarian's art to her own case; nay, she would have the hands ofour little Francis read and interpreted as well as her own, and shedesired to hear the full professional judgment delivered withoutsuppression or softening of its harshest awards. She laughed whilst shesaid all this; but she also trembled a little. The Hungarian first tookthe hand of our young child, and perused it with a long and steadyscrutiny. She said nothing, but sighed heavily as she resigned it. Shethen took the hand of Agnes--looked bewildered and aghast--then gazedpiteously from Agnes to her child--and at last, bursting into tears, began to move steadily out of the room. I followed her hastily, andremonstrated upon this conduct, by pointing her attention to the obvioustruth--that these mysterious suppressions and insinuations, which leftall shadowy and indistinct, were far more alarming than the mostdefinite denunciations. Her answer yet rings in my ear:--'Why should Imake myself odious to you and to your innocent wife? Messenger of evil Iam, and have been to many; but evil I will not prophesy to her. Watchand pray! Much may be done by effectual prayer. Human means, fleshlyarms, are vain. There is an enemy in the house of life' [here shequitted her palmistry for the language of astrology]; 'there is afrightful danger at hand, both for your wife and your child. Already onthat dark ocean, over which we are all sailing, I can see dimly thepoint at which the enemy's course shall cross your wife's. There is butlittle interval remaining--not many hours. All is finished; all isaccomplished; and already he is almost up with the darlings of yourheart. Be vigilant, be vigilant, and yet look not to yourself, but toheaven, for deliverance. '

This woman was not an impostor: she spoke and uttered her oracles undera wild sense of possession by some superior being, and of mysticcompulsion to say what she would have willingly left unsaid; and neveryet, before or since, have I seen the light of sadness settle with sosolemn an expression into human eyes as when she dropped my wife's hand, and refused to deliver that burden of prophetic wo with which shebelieved herself to be inspired. 

The prophetess departed; and what mood of mind did she leave behind herin Agnes and myself? Naturally there was a little drooping of spirits atfirst; the solemnity and the heart-felt sincerity of fear and griefwhich marked her demeanour, made it impossible, at the moment when wewere just fresh from their natural influences, that we should recoilinto our ordinary spirits. But with the inevitable elasticity of youthand youthful gaiety we soon did so; we could not attempt to persuadeourselves that there had been any conscious fraud or any attempt atscenical effect in the Hungarian's conduct. She had no motive fordeceiving us; she had refused all offerings of money, and her wholevisit had evidently been made under an overflow of the most gratefulfeelings for the attentions shown to her child. We acquitted her, therefore, of sinister intentions; and with our feelings of jealousy, feelings in which we had been educated, towards everything that tendedto superstition, we soon agreed to think her some gentle maniac or sadenthusiast, suffering under some form of morbid melancholy. Forty-eighthours, with two nights' sleep, sufficed to restore the wontedequilibrium of our spirits; and that interval brought us onwards to the6th of April--the day on which, as I have already said, my storyproperly commences. 

On that day, on that lovely 6th of April, such as I have described it, that 6th of April, about nine o'clock in the morning, we were seated atbreakfast near the open window--we, that is Agnes, myself, and littleFrancis; the freshness of morning spirits rested upon us; the goldenlight of the morning sun illuminated the room; incense was floatingthrough the air from the gorgeous flowers within and without the house;there in youthful happiness we sat gathered together, a family of love, and there we never sat again. Never again were we three gatheredtogether, nor ever shall be, so long as the sun and its goldenlight--the morning and the evening--the earth and its flowers endure. 

Often have I occupied myself in recalling every circumstance the mosttrivial of this the final morning of what merits to be called my life. Eleven o'clock, I remember, was striking when Agnes came into my study, and said that she would go into the city (for we lived in a quite ruralsuburb), that she would execute some trifling commissions which she hadreceived from a friend in the country, and would be at home againbetween one and two for a stroll which we had agreed to take in theneighbouring meadows. About twenty minutes after this she again cameinto my study dressed for going abroad; for such was my admiration ofher, that I had a fancy--fancy it must have been, and yet still I feltit to be real--that under every change she looked best; if she put on ashawl, then a shawl became the most feminine of ornaments; if she laidaside her shawl and her bonnet, then how nymph-like she seemed in herundisguised and unadorned beauty! Full-dress seemed for the time to bebest, as bringing forward into relief the splendour of her person, andallowing the exposure of her arms; a simple morning-dress, again, seemedbetter still, as fitted to call out the childlike innocence of her face, by confining the attention to that. But all these are feelings of fondand blind affection, hanging with rapture over the object of somethingtoo like idolatry. God knows, if that be a sin, I was but too profound asinner; yet sin it never was, sin it could not be, to adore a beautysuch as thine, my Agnes. Neither was it her beauty by itself, and thatonly, which I sought at such times to admire; there was a peculiar sortof double relation in which she stood at moments of pleasurableexpectation and excitement, since our little Francis had become of anage to join our party, which made some aspects of her character treblyinteresting. She was a wife--and wife to one whom she looked up to asher superior in understanding and in knowledge of the world, whom, therefore, she leaned to for protection. On the other hand, she was alsoa mother. Whilst, therefore, to her child she supported the matronlypart of guide, and the air of an experienced person; to me she wore, ingenuously and without disguise, the part of a child herself, with allthe giddy hopes and unchastised imaginings of that buoyant age. Thisdouble character, one aspect of which looks towards her husband and oneto her children, sits most gracefully upon many a young wife whose heartis pure and innocent; and the collision between the two separate partsimposed by duty on the one hand, by extreme youth on the other, the onetelling her that she is a responsible head of a family and thedepository of her husband's honour in its tenderest and most vitalinterests, the other telling her, through the liveliest language ofanimal sensibility, and through the very pulses of her blood, that sheis herself a child; this collision gives an inexpressible charm to thewhole demeanour of many a young married woman, making her otherfascinations more touching to her husband, and deepening the admirationshe excites; and the more so, as it is a collision which cannot existexcept among the very innocent. Years, at any rate, will irresistiblyremove this peculiar charm, and gradually replace it by the graces ofthe matronly character. But in Agnes this change had not yet beeneffected, partly from nature, and partly from the extreme seclusion ofher life. Hitherto she still retained the unaffected expression of herchildlike nature; and so lovely in my eyes was this perfect exhibitionof natural feminine character, that she rarely or never went out aloneupon any little errand to town which might require her to rely upon herown good sense and courage, that she did not previously come to exhibitherself before me. Partly this was desired by me in that lover-likefeeling of admiration already explained, which leads one to court thesight of a beloved object under every change of dress, and under alleffects of novelty. Partly it was the interest I took in that exhibitionof sweet timidity, and almost childish apprehensiveness, half disguisedor imperfectly acknowledged by herself, which (in the way I have justexplained) so touchingly contrasted with (and for that very reason sotouchingly drew forth) her matronly character. But I hear some objectorsay at this point, ought not this very timidity, founded (as in part atleast it was) upon inexperience and conscious inability to face thedangers of the world, to have suggested reasons for not leaving her toher own protection? And does it not argue on my part, an arrogant or tooblind a confidence in the durability of my happiness, as though charmedagainst assaults, and liable to no shocks of sudden revolution? I replythat, from the very constitution of society, and the tone of manners inthe city which we inhabited, there seemed to be a moral impossibilitythat any dangers of consequence should meet her in the course of thosebrief absences from my protection, which only were possible; that evento herself any dangers, of a nature to be anticipated under the knowncircumstances of the case, seemed almost imaginary; that even _she_acknowledged a propriety in being trained, by slight and briefseparations from my guardianship, to face more boldly those cases oflonger separation and of more absolute consignment to her own resourceswhich circumstances might arise to create necessarily, and perhapsabruptly. And it is evident that, had she been the wife of any manengaged in the duties of a profession, she might have been summoned fromthe very first, and without the possibility of any such gradualtraining, to the necessity of relying almost singly upon her own courageand discretion. For the other question, whether I did not depend tooblindly and presumptuously upon my good luck in not at least affordingher my protection so long as nothing occurred to make it impossible? Imay reply most truly that all my feelings ran naturally in the veryopposite channel. So far from confiding too much in my luck, in thepresent instance I was engaged in the task of writing upon some pointsof business which could not admit of further delay; but now, and at alltimes, I had a secret aversion to seeing so gentle a creature throwneven for an hour upon her own resources, though in situations whichscarcely seemed to admit of any occasion for taxing those resources; andoften I have felt anger towards myself for what appeared to be anirrational or effeminate timidity, and have struggled with my own mindupon occasions like the present, when I knew that I could not haveacknowledged my tremors to a friend without something like shame, and afear to excite his ridicule. No; if in anything I ran into excess, itwas in this very point of anxiety as to all that regarded my wife'ssecurity. Her good sense, her prudence, her courage (for courage she hadin the midst of her timidity), her dignity of manner, the moreimpressive from the childlike character of her countenance, all shouldhave combined to reassure me, and yet they did not. I was still anxiousfor her safety to an irrational extent; and to sum up the whole in amost weighty line of Shakspeare, I lived under the constant presence ofa feeling which only that great observer of human nature (so far as I amaware) has ever noticed, viz. , that merely the excess of my happinessmade me jealous of its ability to last, and in that extent less capableof enjoying it; that in fact the prelibation of my tears, as a homage toits fragility, was drawn forth by my very sense that my felicity was tooexquisite; or, in the words of the great master--

 'I wept to have' [absolutely, by anticipation, shed tears in possessing] 'what I so feared to lose. '

Thus end my explanations, and I now pursue my narrative: Agnes, as I havesaid, came into my room again before leaving the house--we conversed forfive minutes--we parted--she went out--her last words being that she wouldreturn at half-past one o'clock; and not long after that time, if ever mimicbells--bells of rejoicing, or bells of mourning, are heard in desert spacesof the air, and (as some have said), in unreal worlds, that mock our own, and repeat, for ridicule, the vain and unprofitable motions of man, then toosurely, about this hour, began to toll the funeral knell of my earthlyhappiness--its final hour had sounded. 

 * * * * *

One o'clock had arrived; fifteen minutes after, I strolled into thegarden, and began to look over the little garden-gate in expectation ofevery moment descrying Agnes in the distance. Half an hour passed, andfor ten minutes more I was tolerably quiet. From this time tillhalf-past two I became constantly more agitated--_agitated_, perhaps, istoo strong a word--but I was restless and anxious beyond what I shouldhave chosen to acknowledge. Still I kept arguing, What is half anhour?--what is an hour? A thousand things might have occurred to causethat delay, without needing to suppose any accident; or, if an accident, why not a very trifling one? She may have slightly hurt her foot--shemay have slightly sprained her ankle. 'Oh, doubtless, ' I exclaimed tomyself, 'it will be a mere trifle, or perhaps nothing at all. ' But Iremember that, even whilst I was saying this, I took my hat and walkedwith nervous haste into the little quiet lane upon which our garden-gateopened. The lane led by a few turnings, and after a course of about fivehundred yards, into a broad high-road, which even at that day had begunto assume the character of a street, and allowed an unobstructed rangeof view in the direction of the city for at least a mile. Here Istationed myself, for the air was so clear that I could distinguishdress and figure to a much greater distance than usual. Even on such aday, however, the remote distance was hazy and indistinct, and at anyother season I should have been diverted with the various mistakes Imade. From occasional combinations of colour, modified by light andshade, and of course powerfully assisted by the creative state of theeye under this nervous apprehensiveness, I continued to shape intoimages of Agnes forms without end, that upon nearer approach presentedthe most grotesque contrasts to her impressive appearance. But I hadceased even to comprehend the ludicrous; my agitation was now sooverruling and engrossing that I lost even my intellectual sense of it;and now first I understood practically and feelingly the anguish of hopealternating with disappointment, as it may be supposed to act upon thepoor shipwrecked seaman, alone and upon a desolate coast, straining hissight for ever to the fickle element which has betrayed him, but whichonly can deliver him, and with his eyes still tracing in the fardistance

 'Ships, dim-discover'd, dropping from the clouds, '--

which a brief interval of suspense still for ever disperses into hollowpageants of air or vapour. One deception melted away only to besucceeded by another; still I fancied that at last to a certainty Icould descry the tall figure of Agnes, her gipsy hat, and even thepeculiar elegance of her walk. Often I went so far as to laugh atmyself, and even to tax my recent fears with unmanliness and effeminacy, on recollecting the audible throbbings of my heart, and the nervouspalpitations which had besieged me; but these symptoms, whethereffeminate or not, began to come back tumultuously under the gloomydoubts that succeeded almost before I had uttered this self-reproach. Still I found myself mocked and deluded with false hopes; yet still Irenewed my quick walk, and the intensity of my watch for that radiantform that was fated never more to be seen returning from the cruel city. 

It was nearly half-past three, and therefore close upon two hours beyondthe time fixed by Agnes for her return, when I became absolutelyincapable of supporting the further torture of suspense, and I suddenlytook the resolution of returning home and concerting with my femaleservants some energetic measures, though _what_ I could hardly say, onbehalf of their mistress. On entering the garden-gate I met our littlechild Francis, who unconsciously inflicted a pang upon me which heneither could have meditated nor have understood. I passed him at hisplay, perhaps even unaware of his presence, but he recalled me to thatperception by crying aloud that he had just seen his mamma. 

'When--where?' I asked convulsively. 

'Up-stairs in her bedroom, ' was his instantaneous answer. 

His manner was such as forbade me to suppose that he could be joking;and, as it was barely possible (though, for reasons well-known to me, inthe highest degree improbable), that Agnes might have returned by aby-path, which, leading through a dangerous and disreputable suburb, would not have coincided at any one point with the public road where Ihad been keeping my station. I sprang forward into the house, up-stairs, and in rapid succession into every room where it was likely that shemight be found; but everywhere there was a dead silence, disturbed onlyby myself, for, in my growing confusion of thought, I believe that Irang the bell violently in every room I entered. No such summons, however, was needed, for the servants, two of whom at the least weremost faithful creatures, and devotedly attached to their young mistress, stood ready of themselves to come and make inquiries of me as soon asthey became aware of the alarming fact that I had returned without her. 

Until this moment, though having some private reasons for surprise thatshe should have failed to come into the house for a minute or two at thehour prefixed, in order to make some promised domestic arrangements forthe day, they had taken it for granted that she must have met with me atsome distance from home--and that either the extreme beauty of the dayhad beguiled her of all petty household recollections, or (as aconjecture more in harmony with past experiences) that my impatience andsolicitations had persuaded her to lay aside her own plans for themoment at the risk of some little domestic inconvenience. Now, however, in a single instant vanished _every_ mode of accounting for theirmistress's absence; and the consternation of our looks communicatedcontagiously, by the most unerring of all languages, from each to theother what thoughts were uppermost in our panic-stricken hearts. If toany person it should seem that our alarm was disproportioned to theoccasion, and not justified at least by anything as yet made known tous, let that person consider the weight due to the two followingfacts--first, that from the recency of our settlement in thisneighbourhood, and from the extreme seclusion of my wife's previous lifeat a vast distance from the metropolis, she had positively no friends onher list of visitors who resided in this great capital; secondly, andfar above all beside, let him remember the awful denunciations, sounexpectedly tallying with this alarming and mysterious absence, of theHungarian prophetess; these had been slighted--almost dismissed from ourthoughts; but now in sudden reaction they came back upon us with afrightful power to lacerate and to sting--the shadowy outline of aspiritual agency, such as that which could at all predict the events, combining in one mysterious effect, with the shadowy outline of thosevery predictions. The power, that could have predicted, was as dim andas hard to grasp as was the precise nature of the evil that had beenpredicted. 

An icy terror froze my blood at this moment when I looked at thesignificant glances, too easily understood by me, that were exchangedbetween the servants. My mouth had been for the last two hours growingmore and more parched, so that at present, from mere want of moisture, Icould not separate my lips to speak. One of the women saw the vainefforts I was making, and hastily brought me a glass of water. With thefirst recovery of speech, I asked them what little Francis had meant bysaying that he had seen his mother in her bedroom. Their reply was--thatthey were as much at a loss to discover his meaning as I was; that hehad made the same assertion to them, and with so much earnestness, thatthey had, all in succession, gone up-stairs to look for her, and withthe fullest expectation of finding her. This was a mystery whichremained such to the very last; there was no doubt whatsoever that thechild believed himself to have seen his mother; that he could not haveseen her in her human bodily presence, there is as little doubt as thereis, alas! that in this world he never _did_ see her again. The poorchild constantly adhered to his story, and with a circumstantiality farbeyond all power of invention that could be presumed in an artlessinfant. Every attempt at puzzling him or entangling him incontradictions by means of cross-examination was but labour thrown away;though, indeed, it is true enough that for those attempts, as will soonbe seen, there was but a brief interval allowed. 

Not dwelling upon this subject at present, I turned to Hannah--a womanwho held the nominal office of cook in our little establishment, butwhose real duties had been much more about her mistress's person--andwith a searching look of appeal I asked her whether, in this moment oftrial, when (as she might see) I was not so perfectly master of myselfas perhaps always to depend upon seeing what was best to be done, shewould consent to accompany me into the city, and take upon herself thoseobvious considerations of policy or prudence which might but too easilyescape my mind, darkened, and likely to be darkened, as to its power ofdiscernment by the hurricane of affliction now too probably at hand. Sheanswered my appeal with the fervour I expected from what I had alreadyknown of her character. She was a woman of a strong, fiery, perhaps Imight say of heroic mind, supported by a courage that was absolutelyindomitable, and by a strength of bodily frame very unusual in a woman, and beyond the promise even of her person. She had suffered as deep awrench in her own affections as a human being can suffer; she had losther one sole child, a fair-haired boy of most striking beauty andinteresting disposition, at the age of seventeen, and by the worst ofall possible fates; he lived (as we did at that time) in a largecommercial city overflowing with profligacy, and with temptations ofevery order; he had been led astray; culpable he had been, but by verymuch the least culpable of the set into which accident had thrown him, as regarded acts and probable intentions; and as regarded palliationsfrom childish years, from total inexperience, or any other alleviatingcircumstances that could be urged, having everything to plead--and ofall his accomplices the only one who had anything to plead. Interest, however, he had little or none; and whilst some hoary villains of theparty, who happened to be more powerfully befriended, were finallyallowed to escape with a punishment little more than nominal, he and twoothers were selected as sacrifices to the offended laws. They sufferedcapitally. All three behaved well; but the poor boy in particular, witha courage, a resignation, and a meekness, so distinguished and beyondhis years as to attract the admiration and the liveliest sympathy of thepublic universally. If strangers could feel in that way, if the merehardened executioner could be melted at the final scene, --it may bejudged to what a fierce and terrific height would ascend the afflictionof a doating mother, constitutionally too fervid in her affections. Ihave heard an official person declare, that the spectacle of herdesolation and frantic anguish was the most frightful thing he had everwitnessed, and so harrowing to the feelings, that all who could bytheir rank venture upon such an irregularity, absented themselves duringthe critical period from the office which corresponded with thegovernment; for, as I have said, the affair took place in a largeprovincial city, at a great distance from the capital. All who knew thiswoman, or who were witnesses to the alteration which one fortnight hadwrought in her person as well as her demeanour, fancied it impossiblethat she could continue to live; or that, if she did, it must be throughthe giving way of her reason. They proved, however, to be mistaken; or, at least, if (as some thought) her reason did suffer in some degree, this result showed itself in the inequality of her temper, in moody fitsof abstraction, and the morbid energy of her manner at times under theabsence of all adequate external excitement, rather than in any positiveand apparent hallucinations of thought. The charm which had mainlycarried off the instant danger to her faculties, was doubtless theintense sympathy which she met with. And in these offices of consolationmy wife stood foremost. For, and that was fortunate, she had foundherself able, without violence to her own sincerest opinions in thecase, to offer precisely that form of sympathy which was most soothingto the angry irritation of the poor mother; not only had she shown a_direct_ interest in the boy, and not a mere interest of _reflection_from that which she took in the mother, and had expressed it by visitsto his dungeon, and by every sort of attention to his comforts which hiscase called for, or the prison regulations allowed; not only had shewept with the distracted woman as if for a brother of her own; but, which went farther than all the rest in softening the mother's heart, she had loudly and indignantly proclaimed her belief in the boy'sinnocence, and in the same tone her sense of the crying injusticecommitted as to the selection of the victims, and the proportion of thepunishment awarded. Others, in the language of a great poet, 'Had pitied _her_ and not her grief;'

they had either not been able to see, or, from carelessness, had neglectedto see, any peculiar wrong done to her in the matter which occasioned hergrief, --but had simply felt compassion for her as for one summoned, in aregular course of providential and human dispensation, to face anaffliction, heavy in itself, but not heavy from any special defect ofequity. Consequently their very sympathy, being so much built upon theassumption that an only child had offended to the extent implied in hissentence, oftentimes clothed itself in expressions which she felt to be notconsolations but insults, and, in fact, so many justifications of those whomit relieved her overcharged heart to regard as the very worst of enemies. Agnes, on the other hand, took the very same view of the case as herself;and, though otherwise the gentlest of all gentle creatures, yet here, fromthe generous fervour of her reverence for justice, and her abhorrence ofoppression, she gave herself no trouble to moderate the energy of herlanguage: nor did I, on my part, feeling that substantially she was in theright, think it of importance to dispute about the exact degrees of thewrong done or the indignation due to it. In this way it happened naturallyenough that at one and the same time, though little contemplating either ofthese results, Agnes had done a prodigious service to the poor desolatemother by breaking the force of her misery, as well as by arming the activeagencies of indignation against the depressing ones of solitary grief, andfor herself had won a most grateful and devoted friend, who would have gonethrough fire and water to serve her, and was thenceforwards most anxious forsome opportunity to testify how deep had been her sense of the goodnessshown to her by her benign young mistress, and how incapable of sufferingabatement by time. It remains to add, which I have slightly noticed before, that this woman was of unusual personal strength: her bodily frame matchedwith her intellectual: and I notice this _now_ with the more emphasis, because I am coming rapidly upon ground where it will be seen that this onequalification was of more summary importance to us--did us more 'yeoman'sservice' at a crisis the most awful--than other qualities of greater nameand pretension. _Hannah_ was this woman's Christian name; and her name andher memory are to me amongst the most hallowed of my earthly recollections. 

One of her two fellow-servants, known technically amongst us as the'parlour-maid, ' was also, but not equally, attached to her mistress; andmerely because her nature, less powerfully formed and endowed, did not allowher to entertain or to comprehend any service equally fervid of passion orof impassioned action. She, however, was good, affectionate, and worthy tobe trusted. But a third there was, a nursery-maid, and therefore morenaturally and more immediately standing within the confidence of hermistress--her I could not trust: her I suspected. But of that hereafter. Meantime, Hannah--she upon whom I leaned as upon a staff in all whichrespected her mistress, ran up-stairs, after I had spoken and received heranswer, in order hastily to dress and prepare herself for going out alongwith me to the city. I did not ask her to be quick in her movements: I knewthere was no need: and, whilst she was absent, I took up, in one of myfretful movements of nervousness, a book which was lying upon a side table:the book fell open of itself at a particular page; and in that, perhaps, there was nothing extraordinary; for it was a little portable edition of_Paradise Lost_; and the page was one which I must naturally have turned tomany a time: for to Agnes I had read all the great masters of literature, especially those of modern times; so that few people knew the high classicsmore familiarly: and as to the passage in question, from its divine beauty Ihad read it aloud to her, perhaps, on fifty separate occasions. All this Imention to take away any appearance of a vulgar attempt to create omens; butstill, in the very act of confessing the simple truth, and thus weakeningthe marvellous character of the anecdote, I must notice it as a strangeinstance of the '_Sortes Miltonianæ_'--that precisely at such a moment asthis I should find thrown in my way, should feel tempted to take up, andshould open, a volume containing such a passage as the following: andobserve, moreover, that although the volume, _once being taken up_, wouldnaturally open where it had been most frequently read, there were, however, many passages which had been read _as_ frequently--or more so. Theparticular passage upon which I opened at this moment was that mostbeautiful one in which the fatal morning separation is described betweenAdam and his bride--that separation so pregnant with wo, which eventuallyproved the occasion of the mortal transgression--the last scene between ourfirst parents at which both were innocent and both were happy--although thesuperior intellect already felt, and, in the slight altercation precedingthis separation, had already expressed a dim misgiving of some comingchange: these are the words, and in depth of pathos they have rarely beenapproached:--

 'Oft he to her his charge of quick return Repeated; she to him as oft engag'd To be returned by noon amid the bow'r, And all things in best order to invite Noon-tide repast, or afternoon's repose. Oh much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve! Of thy presumed return, event perverse! Thou never from that hour in Paradise Found'st either sweet repast, or sound repose. '

'_My_ Eve!' I exclaimed, 'partner in _my_ paradise, where art thou? _Muchfailing_ thou wilt not be found, nor _much deceived_; innocent in any casethou art; but, alas! too surely by this time _hapless_, and the victim ofsome diabolic wickedness. ' Thus I murmured to myself; thus I ejaculated;thus I apostrophised my Agnes; then again came a stormier mood. I could notsit still; I could not stand in quiet; I threw the book from me withviolence against the wall; I began to hurry backwards and forwards in ashort uneasy walk, when suddenly a sound, a step; it was the sound of thegarden-gate opening, followed by a hasty tread. Whose tread! Not for amoment could it be fancied the oread step which belonged to that daughter ofthe hills--my wife, my Agnes; no, it was the dull massy tread of a man: andimmediately there came a loud blow upon the door, and in the next moment, the bell having been found, a furious peal of ringing. Oh coward heart! notfor a lease of immortality could I have gone forwards myself. My breathfailed me; an interval came in which respiration seemed to be stifled--theblood to halt in its current; and then and there I recognised in myself theforce and living truth of that Scriptural description of a heart consciouslybeset by evil without escape: 'Susannah _sighed_. ' Yes, a long long sigh--adeep deep sigh--that is the natural language by which the overcharged heartutters forth the wo that else would break it. I sighed--oh how profoundly!But that did not give me power to move. Who will go to the door? I whisperedaudibly. Who is at the door? was the inaudible whisper of my heart. Thenmight be seen the characteristic differences of the three women. That one, whom I suspected, I heard raising an upper window to look out andreconnoitre. The affectionate Rachael, on the other hand, ran eagerlydown-stairs; but Hannah, half dressed, even her bosom exposed, passed herlike a storm; and before I heard any sound of opening a door, I saw from thespot where I stood the door already wide open, and a man in the costume of apoliceman. All that he said I could not hear; but this I heard--that I waswanted at the police office, and had better come off without delay. Heseemed then to get a glimpse of me, and to make an effort towards comingnearer; but I slunk away, and left to Hannah the task of drawing from himany circumstances which he might know. But apparently there was not much totell, or rather, said I, there is too much, the _much_ absorbs the _many_;some one mighty evil transcends and quells all particulars. At length thedoor was closed, and the man was gone. Hannah crept slowly along thepassage, and looked in hesitatingly. Her very movements and stealthy pacetestified that she had heard nothing which, even by comparison, she couldthink good news. 'Tell me not now, Hannah, ' I said; 'wait till we are inthe open air. ' She went up-stairs again. How short seemed the time till shedescended!--how I longed for further respite! 'Hannah!' I said at lengthwhen we were fairly moving upon the road, 'Hannah! I am too sure you havenothing good to tell. But now tell me the worst, and let that be in thefewest words possible. '

'Sir, ' she said, 'we had better wait until we reach the office; for really Icould not understand the man. He says that my mistress is detained upon somecharge; but _what_, I could not at all make out. He was a man that knewsomething of you, sir, I believe, and he wished to be civil, and keptsaying, "Oh! I dare say it will turn out nothing at all, many such chargesare made idly and carelessly, and some maliciously. " "But what charges?" Icried, and then he wanted to speak privately to you. But I told him that ofall persons he must not speak to you, if he had anything painful to tell;for that you were too much disturbed already, and had been for some hours, out of anxiety and terror about my mistress, to bear much more. So, when heheard that, he was less willing to speak freely than before. He might provewrong, he said; he might give offence; things might turn out far otherwisethan according to first appearances; for his part, he could not believeanything amiss of so sweet a lady. And alter all it would be better to waittill we reached the office. '

Thus much then was clear--Agnes was under some accusation. This was alreadyworse than the worst I had anticipated. 'And then, ' said I, thinking aloudto Hannah, 'one of two things is apparent to me; either the accusation isone of pure hellish malice, without a colour of probability or the shadow ofa foundation, and that way, alas! I am driven in my fears by that Hungarianwoman's prophecy; or, which but for my desponding heart I should be moreinclined to think, the charge has grown out of my poor wife's rusticignorance as to the usages then recently established by law with regard tothe kind of money that could be legally tendered. This, however, was asuggestion that did not tend to alleviate my anxiety; and my nervousness hadmounted to a painful, almost to a disabling degree, by the time we reachedthe office. Already on our road thither some parties had passed us who wereconversing with eagerness upon the case: so much we collected from the manyand ardent expressions about 'the lady's beauty, ' though the rest of suchwords as we could catch were ill calculated to relieve my suspense. This, then, at least, was certain--that my poor timid Agnes had already beenexhibited before a tumultuous crowd; that her name and reputation had goneforth as a subject of discussion for the public; and that the domesticseclusion and privacy within which it was her matronly privilege to move hadalready undergone a rude violation. 

The office, and all the purlieus of the office, were occupied by a densecrowd. That, perhaps, was always the case, more or less, at this time ofday; but at present the crowd was manifestly possessed by a more thanordinary interest; and there was a unity in this possessing interest; allwere talking on the same subject, the case in which Agnes had so recentlyappeared in some character or other; and by this time it became but toocertain in the character of an accused person. Pity was the prevailingsentiment amongst the mob; but the opinions varied much as to the probablecriminality of the prisoner. I made my way into the office. The presidingmagistrates had all retired for the afternoon, and would not reassembleuntil eight o'clock in the evening. Some clerks only or officers of thecourt remained, who were too much harassed by applications for various formsand papers connected with the routine of public business, and by otherofficial duties which required signatures or attestations, to find muchleisure for answering individual questions. Some, however, listened with amarked air of attention to my earnest request for the circumstantial detailsof the case, but finally referred me to a vast folio volume, in which wereentered all the charges, of whatever nature, involving any serioustendency--in fact, all that exceeded a misdemeanour--in the regularchronological succession according to which they came before the magistrate. Here, in this vast calendar of guilt and misery, amidst the _aliases_ orcant designations of ruffians--prostitutes--felons, stood the description, at full length, Christian and surnames all properly registered, of myAgnes--of her whose very name had always sounded to my ears like the veryecho of mountain innocence, purity, and pastoral simplicity. Here in anothercolumn stood the name and residence of her accuser. I shall call him_Barratt_, for that was amongst his names, and a name by which he had at oneperiod of his infamous life been known to the public, though not hisprincipal name, or the one which he had thought fit to assume at this era. James Barratt, then, as I shall here call him, was a haberdasher--keeping alarge and conspicuous shop in a very crowded and what was then considered afashionable part of the city. The charge was plain and short. Did I live toread it? It accused Agnes M---- of having on that morning secreted in hermuff, and feloniously carried away, a valuable piece of Mechlin lace, theproperty of James Barratt. And the result of the first examination was thuscommunicated in a separate column, written in red ink--'Remanded to thesecond day after to-morrow for final examination. ' Everything in thissin-polluted register was in manuscript; but at night the records of eachday were regularly transferred to a printed journal, enlarged by commentsand explanatory descriptions from some one of the clerks, whose province itwas to furnish this intelligence to the public journals. On that same night, therefore, would go forth to the world such an account of the case, and sucha description of my wife's person, as would inevitably summon to the nextexhibition of her misery, as by special invitation and advertisement, thewhole world of this vast metropolis--the idle, the curious, the brutal, thehardened amateur in spectacles of wo, and the benign philanthropist whofrequents such scenes with the purpose of carrying alleviation to theirafflictions. All alike, whatever might be their motives or the spirit oftheir actions, would rush (as to some grand festival of curiosity andsentimental luxury) to this public martyrdom of my innocent wife. 

Meantime, what was the first thing to be done? Manifestly, to see Agnes:her account of the affair might suggest the steps to be taken. Prudence, therefore, at any rate, prescribed this course; and my heart would not havetolerated any other. I applied, therefore, at once, for information as tothe proper mode of effecting this purpose without delay. What was my horrorat learning that, by a recent regulation of all the police offices, underthe direction of the public minister who presided over that department ofthe national administration, no person could be admitted to an interviewwith any accused party during the progress of the official examinations--or, in fact, until the final committal of the prisoner for trial. This rule wassupposed to be attended by great public advantages, and had rarely beenrelaxed--never, indeed, without a special interposition of the policeminister authorising its suspension. But was the exclusion absolute anduniversal? Might not, at least, a female servant, simply as the bearer ofsuch articles as were indispensable to female delicacy and comfort, haveaccess to her mistress? No; the exclusion was total and unconditional. Toargue the point was manifestly idle; the subordinate officers had nodiscretion in the matter; nor, in fact, had any other official person, whatever were his rank, except the supreme one; and to him I neither had anyobvious means of introduction, nor (in case of obtaining such anintroduction) any chance of success; for the spirit of the rule, I foresawit would be answered, applied with especial force to cases like the present. 

Mere human feelings of pity, sympathy with my too visible agitation, superadded to something of perhaps reverence for the blighting misery thatwas now opening its artillery upon me--for misery has a privilege, andeverywhere is felt to be a holy thing--had combined to procure for me someattention and some indulgence hitherto. Answers had been given withprecision, explanations made at length, and anxiety shown to satisfy myinquiries. But this could not last; the inexorable necessities of publicbusiness coming back in a torrent upon the official people after thismomentary interruption, forbade them to indulge any further considerationfor an individual case, and I saw that I must not stay any longer. I wasrapidly coming to be regarded as a hindrance to the movement of publicaffairs; and the recollection that I might again have occasion for someappeal to these men in their official characters, admonished me not to abusemy privilege of the moment. After returning thanks, therefore, for thedisposition shown to oblige me, I retired. 

Slowly did I and Hannah retrace our steps. Hannah sustained, in the tone ofher spirits, by the extremity of her anger, a mood of feeling which I didnot share. Indignation was to her in the stead of consolation and hope. I, for my part, could not seek even a momentary shelter from my tempestuousaffliction in that temper of mind. The man who could accuse my Agnes, andaccuse her of such a crime, I felt to be a monster; and in my thoughts hewas already doomed to a bloody atonement (atonement! alas! what atonement!)whenever the time arrived that _her_ cause would not be prejudiced, or thecurrent of public feeling made to turn in his favour by investing him withthe semblance of an injured or suffering person. So much was settled in mythoughts with the stern serenity of a decree issuing from a judgment-seat. But that gave no relief, no shadow of relief, to the misery which was nowconsuming me. Here was an end, in one hour, to the happiness of a life. Inone hour it had given way, root and branch--had melted like so muchfrost-work, or a pageant of vapoury exhalations. In a moment, in thetwinkling of an eye, and yet for ever and ever, I comprehended the totalruin of my situation. The case, as others might think, was yet in suspense;and there was room enough for very rational hopes, especially where therewas an absolute certainty of innocence. Total freedom from all doubt on thatpoint seemed to justify almost more than hopes. This might be said, and mostpeople would have been more or less consoled by it. I was not. I felt ascertain, as irredeemably, as hopelessly certain of the final results asthough I had seen the record in the books of heaven. 'Hope nothing, ' I saidto myself; 'think not of hope in this world, but think only how best to walksteadily, and not to reel like a creature wanting discourse of reason, orincapable of religious hopes under the burden which it has pleased God toimpose, and which in this life cannot be shaken off. The countenance of manis made to look upward and to the skies. Thither also point henceforwardsyour heart and your thoughts. Never again let your thoughts travelearthwards. Settle them on the heavens, to which your Agnes is alreadysummoned. The call is clear, and not to be mistaken. Little in _her_ fatenow depends upon you, or upon anything that man can do. Look, therefore, toyourself; see that you make not shipwreck of your heavenly freight becauseyour earthly freight is lost; and miss not, by any acts of wild andpresumptuous despair, that final reunion with your Agnes, which can only bedescried through vistas that open through the heavens. '

Such were the thoughts, thoughts often made audible, which camespontaneously like oracles from afar, as I strode homewards with Hannahby my side. Her, meantime, I seemed to hear; for at times I seemed and Iintended to answer her. But answer her I did not; for not ten words ofall that she said did I really and consciously hear. How I went throughthat night is more entirely a blank in my memory, more entirely achapter of chaos and the confusion of chaos, than any other passage themost impressive in my life. If I even slumbered for a moment, as atintervals I did sometimes, though never sitting down, but standing orpacing about throughout the night, and if in this way I attained amomentary respite from self-consciousness, no sooner had I reached thisenviable state of oblivion, than some internal sting of irritation asrapidly dispersed the whole fickle fabric of sleep; and as if themomentary trance--this fugitive beguilement of my wo--had been concededby a demon's subtle malice only with the purpose of barbing the pang, bythus forcing it into a stronger relief through the insidious peacepreceding it. It is a well-known and most familiar experience to all thesons and daughters of affliction, that under no circumstances is thepiercing, lancinating torment of a recent calamity felt so keenly as inthe first moments of awaking in the morning from the night's slumbers. Just at the very instant when the clouds of sleep, and the wholefantastic illusions of dreaminess are dispersing, just as the realitiesof life are re-assuming their steadfast forms--re-shapingthemselves--and settling anew into those fixed relations which they areto preserve throughout the waking hours; in that particular crisis oftransition from the unreal to the real, the wo which besieges the brainand the life-springs at the heart rushes in afresh amongst the othercrowd of realities, and has at the moment of restoration literally theforce and liveliness of a new birth--the very same pang, and no whitfeebler, as that which belonged to it when it was first made known. From the total hush of oblivion which had buried it and sealed it up, asit were, during the sleeping hours, it starts into sudden life on ourfirst awaking, and is to all intents and purposes a new and not an oldaffliction--one which brings with it the old original shock whichattended its first annunciation. 

That night--that first night of separation from my wife--_how_ itpassed, I know not; I know only _that_ it passed, I being in our commonbedchamber, that holiest of all temples that are consecrated to humanattachments whenever the heart is pure of man and woman and the love isstrong--I being in that bedchamber, once the temple now the sepulchre ofour happiness, --I there, and my wife--my innocent wife--in a dungeon. Asthe morning light began to break, somebody knocked at the door; it wasHannah; she took my hand--misery levels all feeble distinctions ofstation, sex, age--she noticed my excessive feverishness, and gravelyremonstrated with me upon the necessity there was that I should maintainas much health as possible for the sake of 'others, ' if not for myself. She then brought me some tea, which refreshed me greatly; for I hadtasted nothing at all beyond a little water since the precedingmorning's breakfast. This refreshment seemed to relax and thaw the stifffrozen state of cheerless, rayless despair in which I had passed thenight; I became susceptible of consolation--that consolation which liesinvolved in kindness and gentleness of manner--if not susceptible morethan before of any positive hope. I sat down; and, having no witnessesto my weakness but this kind and faithful woman, I wept, and I found arelief in tears; and she, with the ready sympathy of woman, wept alongwith me. All at once she ventured upon the circumstances (so far as shehad been able to collect them from the reports of those who had beenpresent at the examination) of our calamity. There was little indeedeither to excite or to gratify any interest or curiosity separate fromthe _personal_ interest inevitably connected with a case to which therewere two such parties as a brutal, sensual, degraded ruffian, on oneside in character of accuser, and on the other as defendant, a meekangel of a woman, timid and fainting from the horrors of her situation, and under the licentious gaze of the crowd--yet, at the same time, boldin conscious innocence, and in the very teeth of the suspicions whichbeset her, winning the good opinion, as well as the good wishes of allwho saw her. There had been at this first examination little for her tosay beyond the assigning her name, age, and place of abode; and here itwas fortunate that her own excellent good sense concurred with herperfect integrity and intuitive hatred of all indirect or crookedcourses in prompting her to an undisguised statement of the simpletruth, without a momentary hesitation or attempt either at evasion orsuppression. With equally good intentions in similar situations many awoman has seriously injured her cause by slight evasions of the entiretruth, where nevertheless her only purpose has been the natural andingenuous one of seeking to save the reputation untainted of a namewhich she felt to have been confided to her keeping. The purpose was anhonourable one, but erroneously pursued. Agnes fell into no such error. She answered calmly, simply, and truly, to every question put by themagistrates; and beyond _that_ there was little opportunity for her tospeak; the whole business of this preliminary examination being confinedto the deposition of the accuser as to the circumstances under which healleged the act of felonious appropriation to have taken place. Thesecircumstances were perfectly uninteresting, considered in themselves;but amongst them was one which to us had the most shocking interest, from the absolute proof thus furnished of a deep-laid plot againstAgnes. But for this one circumstance there would have been a possibilitythat the whole had originated in error--error growing out of and actingupon a nature originally suspicious, and confirmed perhaps by anunfortunate experience. And in proportion as that was possible, thechances increased that the accuser might, as the examinations advanced, and the winning character of the accused party began to develop itself, begin to see his error, and to retract his own over-hasty suspicions. But now we saw at a glance that for this hope there was no countenancewhatever, since one solitary circumstance sufficed to establish aconspiracy. The deposition bore--that the lace had been secreted andafterwards detected in a muff; now it was a fact as well-known to bothof us as the fact of Agnes having gone out at all--that she had laidaside her winter's dress for the first time on this genial sunny day. Muff she had not at the time, nor could have had appropriately from thestyle of her costume in other respects. What was the effect upon us ofthis remarkable discovery! Of course there died at once the hope of anyabandonment by the prosecutor of his purpose; because here was proof ofa predetermined plot. This hope died at once; but then, as it was onewhich never had presented itself to my mind, I lost nothing by which Ihad ever been solaced. On the other hand, it will be obvious that a newhope at the same time arose to take its place, viz. , the reasonable onethat by this single detection, if once established, we might raise astrong presumption of conspiracy, and moreover that, as a leading factor clue, it might serve to guide us in detecting others. Hannah wassanguine in this expectation; and for a moment her hopes werecontagiously exciting to mine. But the hideous despondency which in mymind had settled upon the whole affair from the very first, thesuperstitious presentiment I had of a total blight brooding over theentire harvest of my life and its promises (tracing itself originally, Iam almost ashamed to own, up to that prediction of the Hungarianwoman)--denied me steady light, anything--all in short but a wanderingray of hope. It was right, of course, nay, indispensable, that thecircumstance of the muff should be strongly insisted upon at the nextexamination, pressed against the prosecutor, and sifted to theuttermost. An able lawyer would turn this to a triumphant account; andit would be admirable as a means of pre-engaging the good opinion aswell as the sympathies of the public in behalf of the prisoner. But, forits final effect--my conviction remained, not to be shaken, that allwould be useless; that our doom had gone forth, and was irrevocable. 

Let me not linger too much over those sad times. Morning came on asusual; for it is strange, but true, that to the very wretched it seemswonderful that times and seasons should keep their appointed courses inthe midst of such mighty overthrows and such interruption to the coursesof their own wonted happiness and their habitual expectations. Whyshould morning and night, why should all movements in the natural worldbe so regular, whilst in the moral world all is so irregular andanomalous? Yet the sun and the moon rise and set as usual upon themightiest revolutions of empire and of worldly fortune that this planetever beholds; and it is sometimes even a comfort to know that this willbe the case. A great criminal, sentenced to an agonising punishment, hasderived a fortitude and a consolation from recollecting that the daywould run its inevitable course--that a day after all was _but_ aday--that the mighty wheel of alternate light and darkness must andwould revolve--and that the evening star would rise as usual, and shinewith its untroubled lustre upon the dust and ashes of what _had_ indeedsuffered, and so recently, the most bitter pangs, but would then haveceased to suffer. 'La Journée, ' said Damien, 'La journée sera dure, mais elle se passera. '

'----_Se passera_:' yes, that is true, I whispered to myself; my day also, my season of trial will be hard to bear; but that also will have an end;that also '_se passera_. ' Thus I talked or thought so long as I thought atall; for the hour was now rapidly approaching when thinking in any shapewould for some time be at an end for me. 

That day, as the morning advanced, I went again, accompanied by Hannah, to the police court and to the prison--a vast, ancient, in partsruinous, and most gloomy pile of building. In those days theadministration of justice was, if not more corrupt, certainly in itsinferior departments by far more careless than it is at present, andliable to thousands of interruptions and mal-practices, supportingthemselves upon old traditionary usages which required at least half acentury, and the shattering everywhere given to old systems by theFrench Revolution, together with the universal energy of mind applied tothose subjects over the whole length and breadth of Christendom, toapproach with any effectual reforms. Knowing this, and having myself haddirect personal cognizance of various cases in which bribery had beenapplied with success, I was not without considerable hope that perhapsHannah and myself might avail ourselves of this irregular passportthrough the gates of the prison. And, had the new regulation been ofsomewhat longer standing, there is little doubt that I should have beenfound right; unfortunately, as yet it had all the freshness of new-bornvigour, and kept itself in remembrance by the singular irritation itexcited. Besides this, it was a pet novelty of one particular ministernew to the possession of power, anxious to distinguish himself, proud ofhis creative functions within the range of his office, and verysensitively jealous on the point of opposition to his mandates. Vain, therefore, on this day were all my efforts to corrupt the jailers; and, in fact, anticipating a time when I might have occasion to corrupt someof them for a more important purpose and on a larger scale, I did notthink it prudent to proclaim my character beforehand as one who tamperedwith such means, and thus to arm against myself those jealousies inofficial people which it was so peculiarly important that I should keepasleep. 

All that day, however, I lingered about the avenues and vast courts inthe precincts of the prison, and near one particular wing of thebuilding, which had been pointed out to me by a jailer as the sectionallotted to those who were in the situation of Agnes; that is, waitingtheir final commitment for trial. The building generally he couldindicate with certainty, but he professed himself unable to indicate theparticular part of it which 'the young woman brought in on the dayprevious' would be likely to occupy; consequently he could not point outthe window from which her cell (her '_cell!_' what a word!) would belighted. 'But, master, ' he went on to say, 'I would advise nobody to trythat game. ' He looked with an air so significant, and at the same timeused a gesture so indicative of private understanding, that I at onceapprehended his meaning, and assured him that he had altogethermisconstrued my drift; that, as to attempts at escape, or at any mode ofcommunicating with the prisoner from the outside, I trusted all _that_was perfectly needless; and that at any rate in my eyes it was perfectlyhopeless. 'Well, master, ' he replied, 'that's neither here nor there. You've come down handsomely, that I _will_ say; and where a gentlemanacts like a gentleman, and behaves himself as such, I'm not the man togo and split upon him for a word. To be sure it's quite nat'ral that agentleman--put case that a young woman is his fancy woman--it's nothingbut nat'ral that he should want to get her out of such an old rat-holeas this, where many's the fine-timbered creature, both he and she, thathas lain to rot, and has never got out of the old trap at all, first orlast'----'How so?' I interrupted him; 'surely they don't detain thecorpses of prisoners?' 'Ay, but mind you--put case that he or that sheshould die in this rat-trap before sentence is past, why then the prisoncounts them as its own children, and buries them in its own chapel--thatold stack of pigeon-holes that you see up yonder to the right hand. ' So, then, after all, thought I, if my poor Agnes should, in her desolationand solitary confinement to these wretched walls, find her frailstrength give way--should the moral horrors of her situation work theirnatural effect upon her health, and she should chance to die within thisdungeon, here within this same dungeon will she lie to the resurrection, and in that case her prison-doors have already closed upon her for ever. The man, who perhaps had some rough kindness in his nature, thoughtainted by the mercenary feelings too inevitably belonging to hissituation, seemed to guess at the character of my ruminations by thechange in my countenance, for he expressed some pity for my being 'in somuch trouble'; and it seemed to increase his respect for me that thistrouble should be directed to the case of a woman, for he appeared tohave a manly sense of the peculiar appeal made to the honour andgallantry of man, by the mere general fact of the feebleness and thedependence of woman. I looked at him more attentively in consequence ofthe feeling tone in which he now spoke, and was surprised that I had notmore particularly noticed him before; he was a fine-looking, youngishman, with a bold Robin-hood style of figure and appearance; and, morallyspeaking, he was absolutely transfigured to my eyes by the effect workedupon him for the moment, through the simple calling up of his betternature. However, he recurred to his cautions about the peril in a legalsense of tampering with the windows, bolts, and bars of the old decayingprison; which, in fact, precisely according to the degree in which itsabsolute power over its prisoners was annually growing less and less, grew more and more jealous of its own reputation, and punished theattempts to break loose with the more severity, in exact proportion asthey were the more tempting by the chances of success. I persisted indisowning any schemes of the sort, and especially upon the ground oftheir hopelessness. But this, on the other hand, was a ground that inhis inner thoughts he treated with scorn; and I could easily see that, with a little skilful management of opportunity, I might, upon occasion, draw from him all the secrets he knew as to the special points ofinfirmity in this old ruinous building. For the present, and until itshould certainly appear that there was some use to be derived from thisspecies of knowledge, I forbore to raise superfluous suspicions byavailing myself further of his communicative disposition. Taking, however, the precaution of securing his name, together with hisparticular office and designation in the prison, I parted from him as ifto go home, but in fact to resume my sad roamings up and down theprecincts of the jail. 

What made these precincts much larger than otherwise they would havebeen, was the circumstance that, by a usage derived from older days, both criminal prisoners and those who were prisoners for debt, equallyfell under the custody of this huge caravanserai for the indifferentreception of crime, of misdemeanour, and of misfortune. And those whocame under the two first titles were lodged here through all stages oftheir connection with public justice; alike when mere objects of vaguesuspicion to the police, when under examination upon a specific charge, when fully committed for trial, when convicted and under sentence, awaiting the execution of that sentence, and, in a large proportion ofcases, even through their final stage of punishment, when it happened tobe of any nature compatible with indoor confinement. Hence it arose thatthe number of those who haunted the prison gates with or without a titleto admission was enormous; all the relatives, or more properly theacquaintances and connections of the criminal population within theprison, being swelled by all the families of needy debtors who camedaily either to offer the consolation of their society, or to diminishtheir common expenditure by uniting their slender establishments. One ofthe rules applied to the management of this vast multitude that wereevery day candidates for admission was, that to save the endless troubleas well as risk, perhaps, of opening and shutting the main gates toevery successive arrival, periodic intervals were fixed for theadmission by wholesale: and as these periods came round every two hours, it would happen at many parts of the day that vast crowds accumulatedwaiting for the next opening of the gate. These crowds were assembled intwo or three large outer courts, in which also were many stalls andbooths, kept there upon some local privilege of ancient inheritance, orupon some other plea made good by gifts or bribes--some by Jews andothers by Christians, perhaps equally Jewish. Superadded to thesestationary elements of this miscellaneous population, were others, drawnthither by pure motives of curiosity, so that altogether an almostpermanent mob was gathered together in these courts; and amid this mobit was, --from I know not what definite motive, partly because I thoughtit probable that amongst these people I should hear the case of Agnespeculiarly the subject of conversation; and so, in fact, it did reallyhappen, --but partly, and even more, I believe, because I now awfullybegan to shrink from solitude. Tumult I must have, and distraction ofthought. Amid this mob, I say, it was that I passed two days. Feverish Ihad been from the first, --and from bad to worse, in such a case, was, atany rate, a natural progress; but, perhaps, also amongst this crowd ofthe poor, the abjectly wretched, the ill-fed, the desponding, and thedissolute, there might be very naturally a larger body of contagionlurking than accorded to their mere numerical expectations. There was atthat season a very extensive depopulation going on in some quarters ofthis great metropolis, and in other cities of the same empire, by meansof a very malignant typhus. This fever is supposed to be the peculiarproduct of jails; and though it had not as yet been felt as a scourgeand devastator of this particular jail, or at least the consequentmortality had been hitherto kept down to a moderate amount, yet it washighly probable that a certain quantity of contagion, much beyond theproportion of other popular assemblages less uniformly wretched in theircomposition, was here to be found all day long; and doubtless my excitedstate, and irritable habit of body, had offered a peculiarpredisposition that favoured the rapid development of this contagion. However this might be, the result was, that on the evening of the secondday which I spent in haunting the purlieus of the prison (consequentlythe night preceding the second public examination of Agnes), I wasattacked by ardent fever in such unmitigated fury, that before morning Ihad lost all command of my intellectual faculties. For some weeks Ibecame a pitiable maniac, and in every sense the wreck of my formerself; and seven entire weeks, together with the better half of an eighthweek, had passed over my head whilst I lay unconscious of time and itsdreadful freight of events, excepting in so far as my disordered brain, by its fantastic coinages, created endless mimicries and mockeries ofthese events--less substantial, but oftentimes less afflicting, or lessagitating. It would have been well for me had my destiny decided that Iwas not to be recalled to this world of wo. But I had no such happinessin store. I recovered, and through twenty and eight years my groanshave recorded the sorrow I feel that I did. 

 * * * * *

I shall not rehearse circumstantially, and point by point, the sadunfolding, as it proceeded through successive revelations to me, of allwhich had happened during my state of physical incapacity. When I firstbecame aware that my wandering senses had returned to me, and knew, by thecessation of all throbbings, and the unutterable pains that had so longpossessed my brain, that I was now returning from the gates of death, a sadconfusion assailed me as to some indefinite cloud of evil that had beenhovering over me at the time when I first fell into a state ofinsensibility. For a time I struggled vainly to recover the lost connectionof my thoughts, and I endeavoured ineffectually to address myself to sleep. I opened my eyes, but found the glare of light painful beyond measure. Strength, however, it seemed to me that I had, and more than enough, toraise myself out of bed. I made the attempt, but fell back, almost giddywith the effort. At the sound of the disturbance which I had thus made, awoman whom I did not know came from behind a curtain, and spoke to me. Shrinking from any communication with a stranger, especially one whosediscretion I could not estimate in making discoveries to me with therequisite caution, I asked her simply what o'clock it was. 

'Eleven in the forenoon, ' she replied. 

'And what day of the month?'

'The second, ' was her brief answer. 

I felt almost a sense of shame in adding--'The second! but of what month?'

'Of June, ' was the startling rejoinder. 

On the 8th of April I had fallen ill, and it was now actually the 2nd ofJune. Oh! sickening calculation! revolting register of hours! for in thatsame moment which brought back this one recollection, perhaps by steadyingmy brain, rushed back in a torrent all the other dreadful remembrances ofthe period, and now the more so, because, though the event was stilluncertain as regarded my knowledge, it must have become dreadfully certainas regarded the facts of the case, and the happiness of all who wereconcerned. Alas! one little circumstance too painfully assured me that thisevent had not been a happy one. Had Agnes been restored to her liberty andher home, where would she have been found but watching at my bedside? Thattoo certainly I knew, and the inference was too bitter to support. 

 * * * * *

On this same day, some hours afterwards, upon Hannah's return from the city, I received from her, and heard with perfect calmness, the whole sum of evilwhich awaited me. Little Francis--she took up her tale at that point--'waswith God:' so she expressed herself. He had died of the same fever which hadattacked me--had died and been buried nearly five weeks before. Too probablyhe had caught the infection from me. Almost--such are the caprices of humanfeeling--almost I could have rejoiced that this young memorial of myvanished happiness had vanished also. It gave me a pang, nevertheless, thatthe grave should thus have closed upon him before I had seen his fair littleface again. But I steeled my heart to hear worse things than this. Next shewent on to inform me that already, on the first or second day of ourcalamity, she had taken upon herself, without waiting for authority, onobserving the rapid approaches of illness in me, and arguing the state ofhelplessness which would follow, to write off at once a summons in the mosturgent terms to the brother of my wife. This gentleman, whom I shall callPierpoint, was a high-spirited, generous young man as I have ever known. When I say that he was a sportsman, that at one season of the year he didlittle else than pursue his darling amusement of fox-hunting, for whichindeed he had almost a maniacal passion--saying this, I shall already haveprejudged him in the opinions of many, who fancy all such persons the slavesof corporal enjoyments. But, with submission, the truth lies the other way. According to my experience, people of these habits have their bodies morethan usually under their command, as being subdued by severe exercise; andtheir minds, neither better nor worse on an average than those of theirneighbours, are more available from being so much more rarely clogged bymorbid habits in that uneasy yoke-fellow of the intellectual part--the body. He at all events was a man to justify in his own person this way ofthinking; for he was a man not only of sound, but even of bold and energeticintellect, and in all moral respects one whom any man might feel proud tocall his friend. This young man, Pierpoint, without delay obeyed thesummons; and on being made acquainted with what had already passed, thefirst step he took was to call upon Barratt, and without further questionthan what might ascertain his identity, he proceeded to inflict upon him asevere horsewhipping. A worse step on his sister's account he could not havetaken. Previously to this the popular feeling had run strongly againstBarratt, but now its unity was broken. A new element was introduced into thequestion: Democratic feelings were armed against this outrage; gentlemen andnobles, it was said, thought themselves not amenable to justice; and again, the majesty of the law was offended at this intrusion upon an affair alreadyunder solemn course of adjudication. Everything, however, passes away underthe healing hand of time, and this also faded from the public mind. Peopleremembered also that he was a brother, and in that character, at any rate, had a right to some allowances for his intemperance; and what quickened theoblivion of the affair was, which in itself was sufficiently strange, thatBarratt did not revive the case in the public mind by seeking legalreparation for his injuries. It was, however, still matter of regret thatPierpoint should have indulged himself in this movement of passion, sinceundoubtedly it broke and disturbed the else uniform stream of publicindignation by investing the original aggressor with something like thecharacter of an injured person; and therefore with some set-off to pleadagainst his own wantonness of malice: his malice might now assume the nobleraspect of revenge. 

Thus far, in reporting the circumstances, Hannah had dallied--thus far Ihad rejoiced that she dallied, with the main burden of the wo; but nowthere remained nothing to dally with any longer--and she rushed along inher narrative, hurrying to tell--I hurrying to hear. A second, a thirdexamination had ensued, then a final committal--all this within a week. By that time all the world was agitated with the case; literally not thecity only, vast as that city was, but the nation was convulsed anddivided into parties upon the question, Whether the prosecution were oneof mere malice or not? The very government of the land was reported tobe equally interested, and almost equally divided in opinion. In thisstate of public feeling came the trial. Image to yourself, oh reader, whosoever you are, the intensity of the excitement which by that timehad arisen in all people to be spectators of the scene--then image toyourself the effect of all this, a perfect consciousness that in herselfas a centre was settled the whole mighty interest of theexhibition--that interest again of so dubious and mixed acharacter--sympathy in some with mere misfortune--sympathy in otherswith female frailty and guilt, not perhaps founded upon an absoluteunwavering belief in her innocence even amongst those who were most loudand positive as partisans in affirming it, --and then remember that allthis hideous scenical display and notoriety settled upon one whose verynature, constitutionally timid, recoiled with the triple agony ofwomanly shame--of matronly dignity--of insulted innocence, from everymode and shape of public display. Combine all these circumstances andelements of the case, and you may faintly enter into the situation of mypoor Agnes. Perhaps the best way to express it at once is by recurringto the case of a young female Christian martyr, in the early ages ofChristianity, exposed in the bloody amphitheatre of Rome or Verona to'fight with wild beasts, ' as it was expressed in mockery--she to fight!the lamb to fight with lions! But in reality the young martyr _had_ afight to maintain, and a fight (in contempt of that cruel mockery)fiercer than the fiercest of her persecutors could have facedperhaps--the combat with the instincts of her own shrinking, trembling, fainting nature. Such a fight had my Agnes to maintain; and at that timethere was a large party of gentlemen in whom the gentlemanly instinctwas predominant, and who felt so powerfully the cruel indignities of hersituation, that they made a public appeal in her behalf. One thing, anda strong one, which they said, was this:--'We all talk and move in thiscase as if, because the question appears doubtful to some people, andthe accused party to some people wears a doubtful character, it wouldfollow that she therefore had in reality a mixed character composed injoint proportions of the best and the worst that is imputed to her. Butlet us not forget that this mixed character belongs not to her, but tothe infirmity of our human judgments--_they_ are mixed--_they_ aredubious--but she is not--she is, or she is not, guilty--there is nomiddle case--and let us consider for a single moment, that if this younglady (as many among us heartily believe) _is_ innocent, then and uponthat supposition let us consider how cruel we should all think thepublic exposure which aggravates the other injuries (as in that casethey must be thought) to which her situation exposes her. ' They went onto make some suggestions for the officers of the court in preparing thearrangements for the trial, and some also for the guidance of theaudience, which showed the same generous anxiety for sparing thefeelings of the prisoner. If these did not wholly succeed in repressingthe open avowal of coarse and brutal curiosity amongst the intenselyvulgar, at least they availed to diffuse amongst the neutral andindifferent part of the public a sentiment of respect and forbearancewhich, emanating from high quarters, had a very extensive influence uponmost of what met the eye or the ear of my poor wife. She, on the day oftrial, was supported by her brother; and by that time she needed supportindeed. I was reported to be dying; her little son was dead; neither hadshe been allowed to see him. Perhaps these things, by weaning her fromall further care about life, might have found their natural effect inmaking her indifferent to the course of the trial, or even to its issue. And so, perhaps, in the main, they did. But at times some lingeringsense of outraged dignity, some fitful gleams of old sympathies, 'thehectic of a moment, ' came back upon her, and prevailed over thedeadening stupor of her grief. Then she shone for a moment into a starrylight--sweet and woful to remember. Then----but why linger? I hurry tothe close: she was pronounced guilty; whether by a jury or a bench ofjudges, I do not say--having determined, from the beginning, to give nohint of the land in which all these events happened; neither is that ofthe slightest consequence. Guilty she was pronounced: but sentence atthat time was deferred. Ask me not, I beseech you, about the muff orother circumstances inconsistent with the hostile evidence. Thesecircumstances had the testimony, you will observe, of my own servantsonly; nay, as it turned out, of one servant exclusively: _that_naturally diminished their value. And, on the other side, evidence wasarrayed, perjury was suborned, that would have wrecked a wilderness ofsimple truth trusting to its own unaided forces. What followed? Didthis judgment of the court settle the opinion of the public? Opinion ofthe public! Did it settle the winds? Did it settle the motion of theAtlantic? Wilder, fiercer, and louder grew the cry against the wretchedaccuser: mighty had been the power over the vast audience of thedignity, the affliction, the perfect simplicity, and the Madonna beautyof the prisoner. That beauty so childlike, and at the same time sosaintly, made, besides, so touching in its pathos by means of theabandonment--the careless abandonment and the infinite desolation of herair and manner--would of itself, and without further aid, have made manyconverts. Much more was done by the simplicity of her statements, andthe indifference with which she neglected to improve any strong pointsin her own favour--the indifference, as every heart perceived, ofdespairing grief. Then came the manners on the hostile side--the haggardconsciousness of guilt, the drooping tone, the bravado and fierce strutwhich sought to dissemble all this. Not one amongst all the witnesses, assembled on that side, had (by all agreement) the bold natural tone ofconscious uprightness. Hence it could not be surprising that the stormof popular opinion made itself heard with a louder and a louder sound. The government itself began to be disturbed; the ministers of thesovereign were agitated; and, had no menaces been thrown out, it wasgenerally understood that they would have given way to the popularvoice, now continually more distinct and clamorous. In the midst of allthis tumult obscure murmurs began to arise that Barratt had practisedthe same or similar villainies in former instances. One case inparticular was beginning to be whispered about, which at once threw alight upon the whole affair: it was the case of a young and verybeautiful married woman, who had been on the very brink of a catastrophesuch as had befallen my own wife, when some seasonable interference, ofwhat nature was not known, had critically delivered her. This case arose'like a little cloud no bigger than a man's hand, ' then spread andthreatened to burst in tempest upon the public mind, when all at once, more suddenly even than it had arisen, it was hushed up, or in some waydisappeared. But a trifling circumstance made it possible to trace thiscase:--in after times, when means offered, but unfortunately noparticular purpose of good, nor any purpose, in fact, beyond that ofcuriosity, it _was_ traced: and enough was soon ascertained to haveblown to fragments any possible conspiracy emanating from this Barratt, had that been of any further importance. However, in spite of all thatmoney or art could effect, a sullen growl continued to be heard amongstthe populace of villainies many and profound that had been effected orattempted by this Barratt; and accordingly, much in the same way as wasmany years afterwards practised in London, when a hosier had causedseveral young people to be prosecuted to death for passing forgedbank-notes, the wrath of the people showed itself in marking the shopfor vengeance upon any favourable occasion offering through fire orriots, and in the meantime in deserting it. These things had been goingon for some time when I awoke from my long delirium; but the effect theyhad produced upon a weak and obstinate and haughty government, or atleast upon the weak and obstinate and haughty member of the governmentwho presided in the police administration, was, to confirm and rivet theline of conduct which had been made the object of popular denunciation. More energetically, more scornfully, to express that determination offlying in the face of public opinion and censure, four days before myawakening, Agnes had been brought up to receive her sentence. On thatsame day (nay, it was said in that same hour), petitions, verynumerously signed, and various petitions from different ranks, differentages, different sexes, were carried up to the throne, praying, uponmanifold grounds, but all noticing the extreme doubtfulness of the case, for an unconditional pardon. By whose advice or influence, it wasguessed easily, though never exactly ascertained, these petitions wereunanimously, almost contemptuously, rejected. And to express thecontempt of public opinion as powerfully as possible, Agnes wassentenced by the court, reassembled in full pomp, order, and ceremonialcostume, to a punishment the severest that the laws allowed--viz. Hardlabour for ten years. The people raged more than ever; threats publicand private were conveyed to the ears of the minister chiefly concernedin the responsibility, and who had indeed, by empty and ostentatioustalking, assumed that responsibility to himself in a way that wasperfectly needless. 

Thus stood matters when I awoke to consciousness: and this was the fataljournal of the interval--interval so long as measured by my fiercecalendar of delirium--so brief measured by the huge circuit of eventswhich it embraced, and their mightiness for evil. Wrath, wrathimmeasurable, unimaginable, unmitigable, burned at my heart like acancer. The worst had come. And the thing which kills a man foraction--the living in two climates at once--a torrid and a frigidzone--of hope and fear--that was past. Weak--suppose I were for themoment: I felt that a day or two might bring back my strength. Nomiserable tremors of hope _now_ shook my nerves: if they shook from thatinevitable rocking of the waters that follows a storm, so much might bepardoned to the infirmity of a nature that could not lay aside itsfleshly necessities, nor altogether forego its homage to 'these frailelements, ' but which by inspiration already lived within a region whereno voices were heard but the spiritual voices of transcendantpassions--of

 'Wrongs unrevenged, and insults unredress'd. '

Six days from that time I was well--well and strong. I rose from bed; Ibathed; I dressed: dressed as if I were a bridegroom. And that _was_ infact a great day in my life. I was to see Agnes. Oh! yes: permission hadbeen obtained from the lordly minister that I should see my wife. Is itpossible? Can such condescensions exist? Yes: solicitations from ladies, eloquent notes wet with ducal tears, these had won from the thriceradiant secretary, redolent of roseate attar, a countersign to someorder or other, by which I--yes I--under license of a fop, andsupervision of a jailer--was to see and for a time to converse with myown wife. 

The hour appointed for the first day's interview was eight o'clock inthe evening. On the outside of the jail all was summer light andanimation. The sports of children in the streets of mighty cities arebut sad, and too painfully recall the circumstances of freedom andbreezy nature that are not there. But still the pomp of glorious summer, and the presence, 'not to be put by, ' of the everlasting light, that iseither always present, or always dawning--these potent elementsimpregnate the very city life, and the dim reflex of nature which isfound at the bottom of well-like streets, with more solemn powers tomove and to soothe in summer. I struck upon the prison gates, the firstamong multitudes waiting to strike. Not because we struck, but becausethe hour had sounded, suddenly the gate opened; and in we streamed. I, as a visitor for the first time, was immediately distinguished by thejailers, whose glance of eye is fatally unerring. 'Who was it that Iwanted?' At the name a stir of emotion was manifest, even there: the drybones stirred and moved: the passions outside had long ago passed to theinterior of this gloomy prison: and not a man but had his hypothesis onthe case; not a man but had almost fought with some comrade (many hadliterally fought) about the merits of their several opinions. 

If any man had expected a scene at this reunion, he would have beendisappointed. Exhaustion, and the ravages of sorrow, had left to dearAgnes so little power of animation or of action, that her emotions wererather to be guessed at, both for kind and for degree, than directly tohave been perceived. She was in fact a sick patient, far gone in anillness that should properly have confined her to bed; and was as muchpast the power of replying to my frenzied exclamations, as a dyingvictim of fever of entering upon a strife of argument. In bed, however, she was not. When the door opened she was discovered sitting at a tableplaced against the opposite wall, her head pillowed upon her arms, andthese resting upon the table. Her beautiful long auburn hair had escapedfrom its confinement, and was floating over the table and her ownperson. She took no notice of the disturbance made by our entrance, didnot turn, did not raise her head, nor make an effort to do so, nor byany sign whatever intimate that she was conscious of our presence, untilthe turnkey in a respectful tone announced me. Upon that a low groan, orrather a feeble moan, showed that she had become aware of my presence, and relieved me from all apprehension of causing too sudden a shock bytaking her in my arms. The turnkey had now retired; we were alone. Iknelt by her side, threw my arms about her, and pressed her to my heart. She drooped her head upon my shoulder, and lay for some time like onewho slumbered; but, alas! not as she had used to slumber. Her breathing, which had been like that of sinless infancy, was now frightfully shortand quick; she seemed not properly to breathe, but to gasp. This, thought I, may be sudden agitation, and in that case she will graduallyrecover; half an hour will restore her. Wo is me! she did _not_ recover;and internally I said--she never _will_ recover. The arrows have gonetoo deep for a frame so exquisite in its sensibility, and already herhours are numbered. 

At this first visit I said nothing to her about the past; _that_, andthe whole extent to which our communications should go, I left rather toher own choice. At the second visit, however, upon some word or otherarising which furnished an occasion for touching on this hateful topic, I pressed her, contrary to my own previous intention, for as full anaccount of the fatal event as she could without a distressing effortcommunicate. To my surprise she was silent--gloomily--almost it mighthave seemed obstinately silent. A horrid thought came into my mind;could it, might it have been possible that my noble-minded wife, suchshe had ever seemed to me, was open to temptations of this nature? Couldit have been that in some moment of infirmity, when her better angel wasaway from her side, she had yielded to a sudden impulse of frailty, suchas a second moment for consideration would have resisted, but whichunhappily had been followed by no such opportunity of retrieval? I hadheard of such things. Cases there were in our own times (and notconfined to one nation), when irregular impulses of this sort were knownto have haunted and besieged natures not otherwise ignoble or base. Iran over some of the names amongst those which were taxed with thispropensity. More than one were the names of people in a technical senseheld noble. That, nor any other consideration, abated my horror. Better, I said, better (because more compatible with elevation of mind) betterto have committed some bloody act--some murderous act. Dreadful was thepanic I underwent. God pardon the wrong I did; and even now I pray tohim--as though the past thing were a future thing and capable ofchange--that he would forbid her for ever to know what was thederogatory thought I had admitted. I sometimes think, by recollecting amomentary blush that suffused her marble countenance, --I think--I fearthat she might have read what was fighting in my mind. Yet that wouldadmit of another explanation. If she did read the very worst, meeksaint! she suffered no complaint or sense of that injury to escape her. It might, however, be that perception, or it might be that fear whichroused her to an effort that otherwise had seemed too revolting toundertake. She now rehearsed the whole steps of the affair from first tolast; but the only material addition, which her narrative made to thatwhich the trial itself had involved, was the following:--On twoseparate occasions previous to the last and fatal one, when she hadhappened to walk unaccompanied by me in the city, the monster Barratthad met her in the street. He had probably, --and this was, indeed, subsequently ascertained, --at first, and for some time afterwards, mistaken her rank, and had addressed some proposals to her, which, fromthe suppressed tone of his speaking, or from her own terror andsurprise, she had not clearly understood; but enough had reached heralarmed ear to satisfy her that they were of a nature in the last degreelicentious and insulting. Terrified and shocked rather than indignant, for she too easily presumed the man to be a maniac, she hurriedhomewards; and was rejoiced, on first venturing to look round when closeto her own gate, to perceive that the man was not following. There, however, she was mistaken; for either on this occasion, or on someother, he had traced her homewards. The last of these rencontres hadoccurred just three months before the fatal 6th of April; and if, in anyone instance, Agnes had departed from the strict line of her duty as awife, or had shown a defect of judgment, it was at this point--in nothaving frankly and fully reported the circumstances to me. On the lastof these occasions I had met her at the garden-gate, and hadparticularly remarked that she seemed agitated; and now, at recallingthese incidents, Agnes reminded me that I had noticed that circumstanceto herself, and that she had answered me faithfully as to the main fact. It was true she had done so; for she had said that she had just met alunatic who had alarmed her by fixing his attention upon herself, andspeaking to her in a ruffian manner; and it was also true that she didsincerely regard him in that light. This led me at the time to construethe whole affair into a casual collision with some poor maniac escapingfrom his keepers, and of no future moment, having passed by withoutpresent consequences. But had she, instead of thus reporting her ownerroneous impression, reported the entire circumstances of the case, Ishould have given them a very different interpretation. Affection forme, and fear to throw me needlessly into a quarrel with a man ofapparently brutal and violent nature--these considerations, as too oftenthey do with the most upright wives, had operated to check Agnes in theperfect sincerity of her communications. She had told nothing _but_ thetruth--only, and fatally it turned out for us both, she had not told the_whole_ truth. The very suppression, to which she had reconciled herselfunder the belief that thus she was providing for my safety and her ownconsequent happiness, had been the indirect occasion of ruin to both. Itwas impossible to show displeasure under such circumstances, or underany circumstances, to one whose self-reproaches were at any rate toobitter; but certainly, as a general rule, every conscientious womanshould resolve to consider her husband's honour in the first case, andfar before all other regards whatsoever; to make this the first, thesecond, the third law of her conduct, and his personal safety but thefourth or fifth. Yet women, and especially when the interests ofchildren are at stake upon their husband's safety, rarely indeed areable to take this Roman view of their duties. 

To return to the narrative. --Agnes had not, nor could have, the mostremote suspicion of this Barratt's connection with the shop which shehad not accidentally entered; and the sudden appearance of this wretchit was, at the very moment of finding herself charged with so vile anddegrading an offence, that contributed most of all to rob her of hernatural firmness, by suddenly revealing to her terrified heart the depthof the conspiracy which thus yawned like a gulf below her. And not onlyhad this sudden horror, upon discovering a guilty design in what beforehad seemed accident, and links uniting remote incidents which elseseemed casual and disconnected, greatly disturbed and confused hermanner, which confusion again had become more intense upon her ownconsciousness that she _was_ confused, and that her manner was greatlyto her disadvantage; but--which was the worst effect of all, because therest could not operate against her, except upon those who were presentto witness it, whereas this was noted down and recorded--so utterly didher confusion strip her of all presence of mind, that she did notconsciously notice (and consequently could not protest against at themoment when it was most important to do so, and most natural) theimportant circumstance of the muff. This capital objection, therefore, though dwelt upon and improved to the utmost at the trial, was lookedupon by the judges as an after-thought; and merely because it had notbeen seized upon by herself, and urged in the first moments of heralmost incapacitating terror on finding this amongst the circumstancesof the charge against her--as if an ingenuous nature, in the very act ofrecoiling with horror from a criminal charge the most degrading, and inthe very instant of discovering, with a perfect rapture of alarm, thetoo plausible appearance of probability amongst the circumstances, wouldbe likely to pause, and with attorney-like dexterity, to pick out theparticular circumstance that might admit of being _proved_ to be false, when the conscience proclaimed, though in despondence for the result, that all the circumstances were, as to the use made of them, one tissueof falsehoods. Agnes, who had made a powerful effort in speaking of thecase at all, found her calmness increase as she advanced; and she nowtold me, that in reality there were two discoveries which she made inthe same instant, and not one only, which had disarmed her firmness andordinary presence of mind. One I have mentioned--the fact of Barratt, the proprietor of the shop, being the same person who had in formerinstances persecuted her in the street; but the other was even morealarming--it has been said already that it was _not_ a pure matter ofaccident that she had visited this particular shop. In reality, thatnursery-maid, of whom some mention has been made above, and in termsexpressing the suspicion with which even then I regarded her, hadpersuaded her into going thither by some representations which Agnes hadalready ascertained to be altogether unwarranted. Other presumptionsagainst this girl's fidelity crowded dimly upon my wife's mind at thevery moment of finding her eyes thus suddenly opened. And it was notfive minutes after her first examination, and in fact five minutes afterit had ceased to be of use to her, that she remembered anothercircumstance which now, when combined with the sequel, told its owntale;--the muff had been missed some little time before the 6th ofApril. Search had been made for it; but, the particular occasion whichrequired it having passed off, this search was laid aside for thepresent, in the expectation that it would soon reappear in some cornerof the house before it was wanted: then came the sunny day, which madeit no longer useful, and would perhaps have dismissed it entirely fromthe recollection of all parties, until it was now brought back in thismemorable way. The name of my wife was embroidered within, upon thelining, and it thus became a serviceable link to the hellish cabalagainst her. Upon reviewing the circumstances from first to last, uponrecalling the manner of the girl at the time when the muff was missed, and upon combining the whole with her recent deception, by which she hadmisled her poor mistress into visiting this shop, Agnes began to see theentire truth as to this servant's wicked collusion with Barratt, though, perhaps, it might be too much to suppose her aware of the unhappy resultto which her collusion tended. All this she saw at a glance when it wastoo late, for her first examination was over. This girl, I must add, hadleft our house during my illness, and she had afterwards a melancholyend. 

One thing surprised me in all this, Barratt's purpose must manifestlyhave been to create merely a terror in my poor wife's mind, and to stopshort of any legal consequences, in order to profit of that panic andconfusion for extorting compliances with his hideous pretensions. Itperplexed me, therefore, that he did not appear to have pursued thismanifestly his primary purpose, the other being merely a mask to concealhis true ends, and also (as he fancied) a means for effecting them. Inthis, however, I had soon occasion to find that I was deceived. He had, but without the knowledge of Agnes, taken such steps as were then opento him, for making overtures to her with regard to the terms upon whichhe would agree to defeat the charge against her by failing to appear. But the law had travelled too fast for him and too determinately; sothat, by the time he supposed terror to have operated sufficiently infavour of his views, it had already become unsafe to venture upon suchexplicit proposals as he would otherwise have tried. His own safety wasnow at stake, and would have been compromised by any open or writtenavowal of the motives on which he had been all along acting. In fact, atthis time he was foiled by the agent in whom he confided; but much morehe had been confounded upon another point--the prodigious interestmanifested by the public. Thus it seems--that, whilst he meditated onlya snare for my poor Agnes, he had prepared one for himself; and finally, to evade the suspicions which began to arise powerfully as to his truemotives, and thus to stave off his own ruin, had found himself in amanner obliged to go forward and consummate the ruin of another. 

 * * * * *

The state of Agnes, as to health and bodily strength, was now becomingsuch that I was forcibly warned--whatsoever I meditated doing, to doquickly. There was this urgent reason for alarm: once conveyed into thatregion of the prison in which sentences like hers were executed, itbecame hopeless that I could communicate with her again. All intercoursewhatsoever, and with whomsoever, was then placed under the most rigorousinterdict; and the alarming circumstance was, that this transfer wasgoverned by no settled rules, but might take place at any hour, andwould certainly be precipitated by the slightest violence on my part, the slightest indiscretion, or the slightest argument for suspicion. Hard indeed was the part I had to play, for it was indispensable that Ishould appear calm and tranquil, in order to disarm suspicions aroundme, whilst continually contemplating the possibility that I myself mightbe summoned to extremities which I could not so much as trust myself toname or distinctly to conceive. But thus stood the case; theGovernment, it was understood, angered by the public opposition, resolute for the triumph of what they called 'principle, ' had settledfinally that the sentence should be carried into execution. Now thatshe, that my Agnes, being the frail wreck that she had become, couldhave stood one week of this sentence practically and literallyenforced--was a mere chimera. A few hours probably of the experimentwould have settled that question by dismissing her to the death shelonged for; but because the suffering would be short, was I to stand byand to witness the degradation--the pollution--attempted to be fastenedupon her. What! to know that her beautiful tresses would be shornignominiously--a felon's dress forced upon her--a vile taskmaster withauthority to----; blistered be the tongue that could go on to utter, inconnection with her innocent name, the vile dishonours which were tosettle upon her person! I, however, and her brother had taken suchresolutions that this result was one barely possible; and yet I sickened(yes, literally I many times experienced the effect of physicalsickness) at contemplating our own utter childish helplessness, andrecollecting that every night during our seclusion from the prison thelast irreversible step might be taken--and in the morning we might finda solitary cell, and the angel form that had illuminated it gone wherewe could not follow, and leaving behind her the certainty that we shouldsee her no more. Every night, at the hour of locking up, _she_, atleast, manifestly had a fear that she saw us for the last time; she puther arms feebly about my neck, sobbed convulsively, and, I believe, guessed--but, if really so, did not much reprove or quarrel with thedesperate purposes which I struggled with in regard t o her own life. One thing was quite evident--that to the peace of her latter days, nowhurrying to their close, it was indispensable that she should pass themundivided from me; and possibly, as was afterwards alleged, when itbecame easy to allege anything, some relenting did take place in highquarters at this time; for upon some medical reports made just now, amost seasonable indulgence was granted, viz. That Hannah was permittedto attend her mistress constantly; and it was also felt as a greatalleviation of the horrors belonging to this prison, that candles werenow allowed throughout the nights. But I was warned privately that theseindulgences were with no consent from the police minister; and thatcircumstances might soon withdraw the momentary intercession by which weprofited. With this knowledge we could not linger in our preparations;we had resolved upon accomplishing an escape for Agnes, at whatever riskor price; the main difficulty was her own extreme feebleness, whichmight forbid her to co-operate with us in any degree at the criticalmoment; and the main danger was--delay. We pushed forward, therefore, inour attempts with prodigious energy, and I for my part with an energylike that of insanity. 

 * * * * *

The first attempt we made was upon the fidelity to his trust of thechief jailer. He was a coarse vulgar man, brutal in his manners, butwith vestiges of generosity in his character--though damaged a good dealby his daily associates. Him we invited to a meeting at a tavern in theneighbourhood of the prison, disguising our names as too certain tobetray our objects, and baiting our invitation with some hints which wehad ascertained were likely to prove temptations under his immediatecircumstances. He had a graceless young son whom he was most anxious towean from his dissolute connections, and to steady, by placing him insome office of no great responsibility. Upon this knowledge we framedthe terms of our invitation. 

These proved to be effectual, as regarded our immediate object ofobtaining an interview of persuasion. The night was wet; and at seveno'clock, the hour fixed for the interview, we were seated in readiness, much perplexed to know whether he would take any notice of ourinvitation. We had waited three quarters of an hour, when we heard aheavy lumbering step ascending the stair. The door was thrown open toits widest extent, and in the centre of the door-way stood a short, stout-built man, and the very broadest I ever beheld--staring at us withbold enquiring eyes. His salutation was something to this effect. 

'What the hell do you gay fellows want with me? What the blazes is thishumbugging letter about? My son, and be hanged! what do you know of myson?'

Upon this overture we ventured to request that he would come in andsuffer us to shut the door, which we also locked. Next we produced theofficial paper nominating his son to a small place in the customs, --notyielding much, it was true, in the way of salary, but fortunately, andin accordance with the known wishes of the father, unburdened with anydangerous trust. 

'Well, I suppose I must say thank ye: but what comes next? What am I todo to pay the damages?' We informed him that for this particular littleservice we asked no return. 

'No, no, ' said he, 'that'll not go down: that cat'll not jump. I'm notgreen enough for that. So, say away--what's the damage?' We thenexplained that we had certainly a favour and a great one to ask: ['Ay, I'll be bound you have, ' was his parenthesis:] but that for this we wereprepared to offer a separate remuneration; repeating that with respectto the little place procured for his son, it had not cost us anything, and therefore we did really and sincerely decline to receive anything inreturn; satisfied that, by this little offering, we had procured theopportunity of this present interview. At this point we withdrew acovering from a table upon which we had previously arranged a heap ofgold coins, amounting in value to twelve hundred English guineas: thisbeing the entire sum which circumstances allowed us to raise on sosudden a warning: for some landed property that we both had was sosettled and limited, that we could not convert it into money either byway of sale, loan, or mortgage. This sum, stating to him its exactamount, we offered to his acceptance, upon the single condition that hewould look aside, or wink hard, or (in whatever way he chose to expressit) would make, or suffer to be made, such facilities for our liberatinga female prisoner as we would point out. He mused: full five minutes hesat deliberating without opening his lips; At length he shocked us bysaying, in a firm decisive tone that left us little hope of altering hisresolution, --'No: gentlemen, it's a very fair offer, and a good deal ofmoney for a single prisoner. I think I can guess at the person. It's afair offer--fair enough. But, bless your heart! if I were to do thething you want----why perhaps another case might be overlooked: but thisprisoner, no: there's too much depending. No, they would turn me out ofmy place. Now the place is worth more to me in the long run than whatyou offer; though you bid fair enough, if it were only for my time init. But look here: in case I can get my son to come into harness, I'mexpecting to get the office for him after I've retired. So I can't doit. But I'll tell you what: you've been kind to my son: and thereforeI'll not say a word about it. You're safe for me. And so good-night toyou. ' Saying which, and standing no further question, he walkedresolutely out of the room and down-stairs. 

Two days we mourned over this failure, and scarcely knew which way toturn for another ray of hope;--on the third morning we receivedintelligence that this very jailer had been attacked by the fever, which, after long desolating the city, had at length made its way intothe prison. In a very few days the jailer was lying without hope ofrecovery: and of necessity another person was appointed to fill hisstation for the present. This person I had seen, and I liked him less bymuch than the one he succeeded: he had an Italian appearance, and hewore an air of Italian subtlety and dissimulation. I was surprised tofind, on proposing the same service to him, and on the same terms, thathe made no objection whatever, but closed instantly with my offers. Inprudence, however, I had made this change in the articles: a sum equalto two hundred English guineas, or one-sixth part of the whole money, hewas to receive beforehand as a retaining fee; but the remainder was tobe paid only to himself, or to anybody of his appointing, at the verymoment of our finding the prison gates thrown open to us. He spokefairly enough, and seemed to meditate no treachery; nor was there anyobvious or known interest to serve by treachery; and yet I doubted himgrievously. 

The night came: it was chosen as a gala night, one of two nightsthroughout the year in which the prisoners were allowed to celebrate agreat national event: and in those days of relaxed prison management theutmost license was allowed to the rejoicing. This indulgence wasextended to prisoners of all classes, though, of course, under morerestrictions with regard to the criminal class. Ten o'clock came--thehour at which we had been instructed to hold ourselves in readiness. Wehad been long prepared. Agnes had been dressed by Hannah in such acostume externally (a man's hat and cloak, &c. ) that, from her height, she might easily have passed amongst a mob of masquerading figures inthe debtors' halls and galleries for a young stripling. Pierpoint andmyself were also to a certain degree disguised; so far at least, that weshould not have been recognised at any hurried glance by those of theprison officers who had become acquainted with our persons. We were allmore or less disguised about the face; and in that age when masks werecommonly used at all hours by people of a certain rank, there would havebeen nothing suspicious in any possible costume of the kind in a nightlike this, if we could succeed in passing for friends of debtors. 

I am impatient of these details, and I hasten over the ground. Oneentire hour passed away, and no jailer appeared. We began to despondheavily; and Agnes, poor thing! was now the most agitated of us all. Atlength eleven struck in the harsh tones of the prison-clock. A fewminutes after, we heard the sound of bolts drawing, and barsunfastening. The jailer entered--drunk, and much disposed to beinsolent. I thought it advisable to give him another bribe, and heresumed the fawning insinuation of his manner. He now directed us, bypassages which he pointed out, to gain the other side of the prison. There we were to mix with the debtors and their mob of friends, and toawait his joining us, which in that crowd he could do without muchsuspicion. He wished us to traverse the passages separately; but thiswas impossible, for it was necessary that one of us should support Agneson each side. I previously persuaded her to take a small quantity ofbrandy, which we rejoiced to see had given her, at this moment ofstarting, a most seasonable strength and animation. The gloomy passageswere more than usually empty, for all the turnkeys were employed in avigilant custody of the gates, and examination of the parties going out. So the jailer had told us, and the news alarmed us. We came at length toa turning which brought us in sight of a strong iron gate, that dividedthe two main quarters of the prison. For this we had not been prepared. The man, however, opened the gate without a word spoken, only puttingout his hand for a fee; and in my joy, perhaps, I gave him oneimprudently large. After passing this gate, the distant uproar of thedebtors guided us to the scene of their merriment; and when there, suchwas the tumult and the vast multitude assembled, that we now hoped ingood earnest to accomplish our purpose without accident. Just at thismoment the jailer appeared in the distance; he seemed looking towardsus, and at length one of our party could distinguish that he wasbeckoning to us. We went forward, and found him in some agitation, realor counterfeit. He muttered a word or two quite unintelligible about theman at the wicket, told us we must wait a while, and he would then seewhat could be done for us. We were beginning to demur, and to expressthe suspicions which now too seriously arose, when he, seeing, oraffecting to see some object of alarm, pushed us with a hurried movementinto a cell opening upon the part of the gallery at which we were nowstanding. Not knowing whether we really might not be retreating fromsome danger, we could do no otherwise than comply with his signals; butwe were troubled at finding ourselves immediately locked in from theoutside, and thus apparently all our motions had only sufficed toexchange one prison for another. 

We were now completely in the dark, and found, by a hard breathing fromone corner of the little dormitory, that it was not unoccupied. Havingtaken care to provide ourselves separately with means for striking alight, we soon had more than one torch burning. The brilliant lightfalling upon the eyes of a man who lay stretched on the iron bedstead, woke him. It proved to be my friend the under-jailer, Ratcliffe, but nolonger holding any office in the prison. He sprang up, and a rapidexplanation took place. He had become a prisoner for debt; and on thisevening, after having caroused through the day with some friends fromthe country, had retired at an early hour to sleep away hisintoxication. I on my part thought it prudent to entrust himunreservedly with our situation and purposes, not omitting our gloomysuspicions. Ratcliffe looked, with a pity that won my love, upon thepoor wasted Agnes. He had seen her on her first entrance into theprison, had spoken to her, and therefore knew _from_ what she hadfallen, _to_ what. Even then he had felt for her; how much more at thistime, when he beheld, by the fierce light of the torches, her wo-wornfeatures!

'Who was it, ' he asked eagerly, 'you made the bargain with? Manasseh?'

'The same. '

'Then I can tell you this--not a greater villain walks the earth. He isa Jew from Portugal; he has betrayed many a man, and will many another, unless he gets his own neck stretched, which might happen, if I told allI know. '

'But what was it probable that this man meditated? Or how could itprofit him to betray us?'

'That's more than I can tell. He wants to get your money, and that hedoesn't know how to bring about without doing his part. But that's whathe never _will_ do, take my word for it. That would cut him out of allchance for the head-jailer's place. ' He mused a little, and then told usthat he could himself put us outside the prison-walls, and _would_ do itwithout fee or reward. 'But we must be quiet, or that devil will bethinkhim of me. I'll wager something he thought that I was out merry-makinglike the rest; and if he should chance to light upon the truth, he'll beback in no time. ' Ratcliffe then removed an old fire-grate, at the backof which was an iron plate, that swung round into a similar fireplacein the contiguous cell. From that, by a removal of a few slightobstacles, we passed, by a long avenue, into the chapel. Then he leftus, whilst he went out alone to reconnoitre his ground. Agnes was now inso pitiable a condition of weakness, as we stood on the very brink ofour final effort, that we placed her in a pew, where she could rest asupon a sofa. Previously we had stood upon graves, and with monumentsmore or less conspicuous all around us: some raised by friends to thememory of friends--some by subscriptions in the prison--some bychildren, who had risen into prosperity, to the memory of a father, brother, or other relative, who had died in captivity. I was grievedthat these sad memorials should meet the eye of my wife at this momentof awe and terrific anxiety. Pierpoint and I were well armed, and all ofus determined not to suffer a recapture, now that we were free of thecrowds that made resistance hopeless. This Agnes easily perceived; and_that_, by suggesting a bloody arbitration, did not lessen heragitation. I hoped therefore that, by placing her in the pew, I might atleast liberate her for the moment from the besetting memorials of sorrowand calamity. But, as if in the very teeth of my purpose, one of thelarge columns which supported the roof of the chapel had its basis andlower part of the shaft in this very pew. On the side of it, and justfacing her as she lay reclining on the cushions, appeared a muraltablet, with a bas-relief in white marble, to the memory of twochildren, twins, who had lived and died at the same time, and in thisprison--children who had never breathed another air than that ofcaptivity, their parents having passed many years within these walls, under confinement for debt. The sculptures were not remarkable, being atrite, but not the less affecting, representation of angels descendingto receive the infants; but the hallowed words of the inscription, distinct and legible--'Suffer little children to come unto me, andforbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God'--met her eye, and, by the thoughts they awakened, made me fear that she would becomeunequal to the exertions which yet awaited her. At this moment Ratcliffereturned, and informed us that all was right; and that, from the ruinousstate of all the buildings which surrounded the chapel, no difficultyremained for us, who were, in fact, beyond the strong part of theprison, excepting at a single door, which we should be obliged to breakdown. But had we any means arranged for pursuing our flight, and turningthis escape to account when out of confinement? All that, I assured him, was provided for long ago. We proceeded, and soon reached the door. Wehad one crow-bar amongst us, but beyond that had no better weapons thanthe loose stones found about some new-made graves in the chapel. Ratcliffe and Pierpoint, both powerful men, applied themselves by turnsto the door, whilst Hannah and I supported Agnes. The door did notyield, being of enormous strength; but the wall did, and a large mass ofstone-work fell outwards, twisting the door aside; so that, byafterwards working with our hands, we removed stones many enough toadmit of our egress. Unfortunately this aperture was high above theground, and it was necessary to climb over a huge heap of loose rubbishin order to profit by it. My brother-in-law passed first in order toreceive my wife, quite helpless at surmounting the obstacle by her ownefforts, out of my arms. He had gone through the opening, and, turning, round so as to face me, he naturally could see something that I did_not_ see. 'Look behind!' he called out rapidly. I did so, and saw themurderous villain Manasseh with his arm uplifted and in the act ofcutting at my wife, nearly insensible as she was, with a cutlass. Theblow was not for me, but for her, as the fugitive prisoner; and the lawwould have borne him out in the act. I saw, I comprehended the whole. Igroped, as far as I could without letting my wife drop, for my pistols;but all that I could do would have been unavailing, and too late--shewould have been murdered in my arms. But--and that was what none of ussaw--neither I, nor Pierpoint, nor the hound Manasseh--one person stoodback in the shade; one person had seen, but had not uttered a word onseeing Manasseh advancing through the shades; one person only hadforecast the exact succession of all that was coming; me she sawembarrassed and my hands preoccupied--Pierpoint and Ratcliffe useless byposition--and the gleam of the dog's eye directed her to his aim. Thecrow-bar was leaning against the shattered wall. This she had silentlyseized. One blow knocked up the sword; a second laid the villainprostrate. At this moment appeared another of the turnkeys advancingfrom the rear, for the noise of our assault upon the door had drawnattention in the interior of the prison, from which, however, no greatnumber of assistants could on this dangerous night venture to absentthemselves. What followed for the next few minutes hurried onwards, incident crowding upon incident, like the motions of a dream:--Manasseh, lying on the ground, yelled out 'The bell! the bell!' to him whofollowed. The man understood, and made for the belfry-door attached tothe chapel; upon which Pierpoint drew a pistol, and sent the bulletwhizzing past his ear so truly, that fear made the man obedient to thecounter-orders of Pierpoint for the moment. He paused and awaited theissue. --In a moment had all cleared the wall, traversed the wasteground beyond it, lifted Agnes over the low railing, shaken hands withour benefactor Ratcliffe and pushed onwards as rapidly as we were ableto the little dark lane, a quarter of a mile distant, where had stoodwaiting for the last two hours a chaise-and-four. 

[Ratcliffe, before my story closes, I will pursue to the last of myacquaintance with him, according to the just claims of his services. Hehad privately whispered to me, as we went along, that he could speak tothe innocence of that lady, pointing to my wife, better than anybody. Hewas the person whom (as then holding an office in the prison) Barratthad attempted to employ as agent in conveying any messages that he foundit safe to send--obscurely hinting the terms on which he would desistfrom prosecution. Ratcliffe had at first undertaken the negotiation frommere levity of character. But when the story and the public interestspread, and after himself becoming deeply struck by the prisoner'saffliction, beauty, and reputed innocence, he had pursued it only as ameans of entrapping Barratt into such written communications and suchprivate confessions of the truth as might have served Agnes effectually. He wanted the art, however, to disguise his purposes: Barratt came tosuspect him violently, and feared his evidence so far, even for thoseimperfect and merely oral overtures which he had really sent throughRatcliffe--that on the very day of the trial he, as was believed, thoughby another nominally, contrived that Ratcliffe should be arrested fordebt; and, after harassing him with intricate forms of business, hadfinally caused him to be conveyed to prison. Ratcliffe was thusinvolved in his own troubles at the time; and afterwards supposed that, without written documents to support his evidence, he could not be ofmuch service to the re-establishment of my wife's reputation. Six monthsafter his services in the night-escape from the prison, I saw him, andpressed him to take the money so justly forfeited to him by Manasseh'sperfidy. He would, however, be persuaded to take no more than paid hisdebts. A second and a third time his debts were paid by myself andPierpoint. But the same habits of intemperance and dissolute pleasurewhich led him into these debts, finally ruined his constitution; and hedied, though otherwise of a fine generous manly nature, a martyr todissipation at the early age of twenty-nine. With respect to his prisonconfinement, it was so frequently recurring in his life, and wasalleviated by so many indulgences, that he scarcely viewed it as ahardship: having once been an officer of the prison, and having thusformed connections with the whole official establishment, and doneservices to many of them, and being of so convivial a turn, he was, evenas a prisoner, treated with distinction, and considered as a privilegedson of the house. ]

It was just striking twelve o'clock as we entered the lane where thecarriage was drawn up. Rain, about the profoundest I had ever witnessed, was falling. Though near to midsummer, the night had been unusually darkto begin with, and from the increasing rain had become much more so. Wecould see nothing; and at first we feared that some mistake had occurredas to the station of the carriage--in which case we might have soughtfor it vainly through the intricate labyrinth of the streets in thatquarter. I first descried it by the light of a torch, reflectedpowerfully from the large eyes of the leaders. All was ready. Horse-keepers were at the horses' heads. The postilions were mounted;each door had the steps let down: Agnes was lifted in: Hannah and Ifollowed: Pierpoint mounted his horse; and at the word--Oh! how strangea word!--'_All's right_, ' the horses sprang off like leopards, a mannerill suited to the slippery pavement of a narrow street. At that moment, but we valued it little indeed, we heard the prison-bell ringing outloud and clear. Thrice within the first three minutes we had to pull upsuddenly, on the brink of formidable accidents, from the dangerous speedwe maintained, and which, nevertheless, the driver had orders tomaintain, as essential to our plan. All the stoppages and hinderances ofevery kind along the road had been anticipated previously, and met bycontrivance, of one kind or other; and Pierpoint was constantly a littleahead of us to attend to anything that had been neglected. Theconsequence of these arrangements was--- that no person along the roadcould possibly have assisted to trace us by anything in our appearance:for we passed all objects at too flying a pace, and through darkness tooprofound, to allow of any one feature in our equipage being distinctlynoticed. Ten miles out of town, a space which we traversed in forty-fourminutes, a second relay of horses was ready; but we carried on the samepostilions throughout. Six miles a-head of this distance we had a secondrelay; and with this set of horses, after pushing two miles furtheralong the road, we crossed by a miserable lane five miles long, scarcelyeven a bridge road, into another of the great roads from the capital;and by thus crossing the country, we came back upon the city at a pointfar distant from that at which we left it. We had performed a distanceof forty-two miles in three hours, and lost a fourth hour upon thewretched five miles of cross-road. It was therefore four o'clock, andbroad daylight, when we drew near the suburbs of the city; but a mosthappy accident now favoured us; a fog the most intense now prevailed;nobody could see an object six feet distant; we alighted in anuninhabited new-built street, plunged into the fog, thus confounding ourtraces to any observer. We then stepped into a hackney-coach which hadbeen stationed at a little distance. Thence, according to our plan, wedrove to a miserable quarter of the town, whither the poor only and thewretched resorted; mounted a gloomy dirty staircase, and, befriended bythe fog, still growing thicker and thicker, and by the early hour of themorning, reached a house previously hired, which, if shocking to the eyeand the imagination from its squalid appearance and its gloom, still wasa home--a sanctuary--an asylum from treachery, from captivity, frompersecution. Here Pierpoint for the present quitted us: and once moreAgnes, Hannah, and I, the shattered members of a shattered family, werethus gathered together in a house of our own. 

Yes: once again, daughter of the hills, thou sleptst as heretofore in myencircling arms; but not again in that peace which crowned thy innocencein those days, and should have crowned it now. Through the whole of ourflying journey, in some circumstances at its outset strikingly recallingto me that blessed one which followed our marriage, Agnes slept awayunconscious of our movements. She slept through all that day and thefollowing night; and I watched over her with as much jealousy of allthat might disturb her, as a mother watches over her new-born baby; forI hoped, I fancied, that a long--long rest, a rest, a halcyon calm, adeep, deep Sabbath of security, might prove healing and medicinal. Ithought wrong; her breathing became more disturbed, and sleep was nowhaunted by dreams; all of us, indeed, were agitated by dreams; the pastpursued me, and the present, for high rewards had been advertised byGovernment to those who traced us; and though for the moment we weresecure, because we never went abroad, and could not have been naturallysought in such a neighbourhood, still that very circumstance wouldeventually operate against us. At length, every night I dreamed of ourinsecurity under a thousand forms; but more often by far my dreamsturned upon our wrongs; wrath moved me rather than fear. Every night, for the greater part, I lay painfully and elaborately involved, by deepsense of wrong, '----in long orations, which I pleaded Before unjust tribunals. '[20]

And for poor Agnes, her also did the remembrance of mighty wrongs occupythrough vast worlds of sleep in the same way--though coloured by thattenderness which belonged to her gentler nature. One dream inparticular--a dream of sublime circumstances--she repeated to me somovingly, with a pathos so thrilling, that by some profound sympathy ittransplanted itself to my own sleep, settled itself there, and is tothis hour a part of the fixed dream-scenery which revolves at intervalsthrough my sleeping life. This it was:--She would hear a trumpetsound--though perhaps as having been the prelude to the solemn entry ofthe judges at a town which she had once visited in her childhood; otherpreparations would follow, and at last all the solemnities of a greattrial would shape themselves and fall into settled images. The audiencewas assembled, the judges were arrayed, the court was set. The prisonerwas cited. Inquest was made, witnesses were called; and false witnessescame tumultuously to the bar. Then again a trumpet was heard, but thetrumpet of a mighty archangel; and then would roll away thick clouds andvapours. Again the audience, but another audience, was assembled; againthe tribunal was established; again the court was set; but a tribunaland a court--how different to her! _That_ had been composed of menseeking indeed for truth, but themselves erring and fallible creatures;the witnesses had been full of lies, the judges of darkness. But herewas a court composed of heavenly witnesses--here was a righteoustribunal--and then at last a judge that could not be deceived. The judgesmote with his eye a person who sought to hide himself in the crowd; theguilty man stepped forward; the poor prisoner was called up to thepresence of the mighty judge; suddenly the voice of a little child washeard ascending before her. Then the trumpet sounded once again; andthen there were new heavens and a new earth; and her tears and heragitation (for she had seen her little Francis) awoke the poorpalpitating dreamer. 

[20] From a MS. Poem of a great living Poet. [Written in January 1838. The lines occur in Wordsworth's _Prelude_, Book Tenth, line 410. Thepassage stands thus:--

 ----------'the unbroken dream entangled me In long orations, which I strove to plead Before unjust tribunals, --with a voice Labouring, a brain confounded, and a sense, Death-like, of treacherous desertion, felt In the last place of refuge--my own soul. '--H. ]

 * * * * *

Two months passed on: nothing could possibly be done materially to raisethe standard of those wretched accommodations which the house offered. The dilapidated walls, the mouldering plaster, the blackenedmantel-pieces, the stained and polluted wainscots--what could beattempted to hide or to repair all this by those who durst not ventureabroad? Yet whatever could be done, Hannah did, and, in the meantime, very soon indeed my Agnes ceased to see or to be offended by theseobjects. First of all her sight went from her; and nothing whichappealed to that sense could ever more offend her. It is to me the oneonly consolation I have, that my presence and that of Hannah, with suchinnocent frauds as we concerted together, made her latter days pass in aheavenly calm, by persuading her that our security was absolute, andthat all search after us had ceased, under a belief on the part ofGovernment that we had gained the shelter of a foreign land. All thiswas a delusion; but it was a delusion--blessed be Heaven!--which lastedexactly as long as her life, and was just commensurate with itsnecessity. I hurry over the final circumstances. 

There was fortunately now, even for me, no fear that the hand of anypoliceman or emissary of justice could effectually disturb the latterdays of my wife; for, besides pistols always lying loaded in an innerroom, there happened to be a long narrow passage on entering the house, which, by means of a blunderbuss, I could have swept effectually, andcleared many times over; and I know what to do in a last extremity. Justtwo months it was, to a day, since we had entered the house; and ithappened that the medical attendant upon Agnes, who awakened nosuspicion by his visits, had prescribed some opiate or anodyne which hadnot come; being dark early, for it was now September, I had ventured outto fetch it. In this I conceived there could be no danger. On my returnI saw a man examining the fastenings of the door. He made no oppositionto my entrance, nor seemed much to observe it--but I was disturbed. Twohours after, both Hannah and I heard a noise about the door, and voicesin low conversation. It is remarkable that Agnes heard this also--soquick had grown her hearing. She was agitated, but was easily calmed;and at ten o'clock we were all in bed. The hand of Agnes was in mine; soonly she felt herself in security. She had been restless for an hour, and talking at intervals in sleep. Once she certainly wakened, for shepressed her lips to mine. Two minutes after, I heard something in herbreathing which did not please me. I rose hastily--brought alight--raised her head--two long, long gentle sighs, that scarcely movedthe lips, were all that could be perceived. At that moment, at that verymoment, Hannah called out to me that the door was surrounded. 'Open it!'I said; six men entered; Agnes it was they sought; I pointed to the bed;they advanced, gazed, and walked away in silence. 

After this I wandered about, caring little for life or its affairs, androused only at times to think of vengeance upon all who had contributedto lay waste my happiness. In this pursuit, however, I was confounded asmuch by my own thoughts as by the difficulties of accomplishing mypurpose. To assault and murder either of the two principal agents inthis tragedy, what would it be, what other effect could it have, than toinvest them with the character of injured and suffering people, and thusto attract a pity or a forgiveness at least to their persons which neverotherwise could have illustrated their deaths? I remembered, indeed, thewords of a sea-captain who had taken such vengeance as had offered atthe moment upon his bitter enemy and persecutor (a young passenger onboard his ship), who had informed against him at the Custom-house on hisarrival in port, and had thus effected the confiscation of his ship, andthe ruin of the captain's family. The vengeance, and it was all thatcircumstances allowed, consisted in coming behind the young manclandestinely and pushing him into the deep waters of the dock, when, being unable to swim, he perished by drowning. 'And the like, ' said thecaptain, when musing on his trivial vengeance, 'and the like happens tomany an honest sailor. ' Yes, thought I, the captain was right. Themomentary shock of a pistol-bullet--what is it? Perhaps it may save thewretch after all from the pangs of some lingering disease; and thenagain I shall have the character of a murderer, if known to have shothim; he will with many people have no such character, but at worst thecharacter of a man too harsh (they will say), and possibly mistaken inprotecting his property. And then, if not known as the man who shot him, where is the shadow even of vengeance? Strange, it seemed to me, andpassing strange, that I should be the person to urge arguments in behalfof letting this man escape. For at one time I had as certainly, asinexorably, doomed him as ever I took any resolution in my life. But thefact is, and I began to see it upon closer view, it is not easy by anymeans to take an adequate vengeance for any injury beyond a very trivialstandard; and that with common magnanimity one does not care to avenge. Whilst I was in this mood of mind, still debating with myself whether Ishould or should not contaminate my hands with the blood of thismonster, and still unable to shut my eyes upon one fact, viz. That myburied Agnes could above all things have urged me to abstain from suchacts of violence, too evidently useless, listlessly and scarcely knowingwhat I was in quest of, I strayed by accident into a church where avenerable old man was preaching at the very moment I entered; he waseither delivering as a text, or repeating in the course of his sermon, these words--'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. ' By someaccident also he fixed his eyes upon me at the moment; and thisconcurrence with the subject then occupying my thoughts so muchimpressed me, that I determined very seriously to review my half-formedpurposes of revenge; and well it was that I did so: for in that sameweek an explosion of popular fury brought the life of this wretchedBarratt to a shocking termination, pretty much resembling the fate ofthe De Witts in Holland. And the consequences to me were such, and sofull of all the consolation and indemnification which this world couldgive me, that I have often shuddered since then at the narrow escape Ihad had from myself intercepting this remarkable retribution. Thevillain had again been attempting to play off the same hellish schemewith a beautiful young rustic which had succeeded in the case of myill-fated Agnes. But the young woman in this instance had a high, and, in fact, termagant spirit. Rustic as she was, she had been warned of thecharacter of the man; everybody, in fact, was familiar with the recenttragedy. Either her lover or her brother happened to be waiting for heroutside the window. He saw in part the very tricks in the act ofperpetration by which some article or other, meant to be claimed asstolen property, was conveyed into a parcel she had incautiously laiddown. He heard the charge against her made by Barratt, and seconded byhis creatures--heard her appeal--sprang to her aid--dragged the ruffianinto the street, when in less time than the tale could be told, andbefore the police (though tolerably alert) could effectually interposefor his rescue, the mob had so used or so abused the opportunity theyhad long wished for, that he remained the mere disfigured wreck of whathad once been a man, rather than a creature with any resemblance tohumanity. I myself heard the uproar at a distance, and the shouts andyells of savage exultation; they were sounds I shall never forget, though I did not at that time know them for what they were, orunderstood their meaning. The result, however, to me was somethingbeyond this, and worthy to have been purchased with my heart's blood. Barratt still breathed; spite of his mutilations he could speak; he wasrational. One only thing he demanded--it was that his dying confessionmight be taken. Two magistrates and a clergyman attended. He gave a listof those whom he had trepanned, and had failed to trepan, by hisartifices and threats, into the sacrifice of their honour. He expiredbefore the record was closed, but not before he had placed my wife'sname in the latter list as the one whose injuries in his dying momentsmost appalled him. This confession on the following day went into thehands of the hostile minister, and my revenge was perfect. 

MR. SCHNACKENBERGER;

OR, TWO MASTERS FOR ONE DOG. 

FROM THE GERMAN. 

CHAPTER I. 

IN WHAT MANNER MR. SCHNACKENBERGER MADE HIS ENTRY INTO B----. 

The sun had just set, and all the invalids at the baths of B---- hadretired to their lodgings, when the harsh tones of welcome from thesteeple announced the arrival of a new guest. Forthwith all the windowswere garrisoned with young faces and old faces, pretty faces and uglyfaces; and scarce one but was overspread with instantaneous merriment--a_feu-de-joie_ of laughter, that travelled up the street in company withthe very extraordinary object that now advanced from the city gates. Upon a little, meagre, scare-crow of a horse, sate a tall, broad-shouldered young fellow, in a great-coat of bright pea-green, whose variegated lights and shades, from soaking rains and partialdryings, bore sullen testimony to the changeable state of the weatherfor the last week. Out of this great-coat shot up, to a monstrousheight, a head surmounted by a huge cocked hat, one end of which hungover the stem, the other over the stern of the horse: the legs belongingto this head were sheathed in a pair of monstrous boots, technicallycalled 'field-pieces, ' which, descending rather too low, were wellplaistered with flesh-coloured mud. More, perhaps, in compliance withthe established rule, than for any visible use, a switch was in therider's hand; for to attribute to such a horse, under such a load, anypower to have quitted a pace that must have satisfied the most rigorouspolice in Poland, was obviously too romantic. Depending from his side, and almost touching the ground, rattled an enormous back-sword, whichsuggested to the thinking mind a salutary hint to allow free passage, without let or unseasonable jesting, to Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger, student at the University of X----. He, that might be disposed tooverlook this hint, would certainly pay attention to a second, whichcrept close behind the other in the shape of a monstrous dog, somewhatbigger than the horse, and presenting on every side a double tier ofmost respectable teeth. Observing the general muster of the natives, which his appearance had called to the windows, the rider had unslungand mounted a pipe, under whose moving canopy of clouds and vapours hemight advance in greater tranquillity: and during this operation, hisvery thoughtful and serious horse had struck up a by-street--and made adead stop, before his rider was aware, at the sign of the Golden Sow. 

Although the gold had long since vanished from the stone beast, and, tosay the truth, every part of the house seemed to sympathise admirablywith the unclean habits of its patron image, nevertheless, Mr. Jeremiahthought proper to comply with the instincts of his horse; and, as nobodyin the street, or in the yard, came forward to answer his call, he gavehimself no further trouble, but rode on through the open door rightforwards into the bar. 

CHAPTER II. 

HOW MR. JEREMIAH CAME TO TAKE UP HIS QUARTERS AT THE GOLDEN SOW. 

'The Lord, and his angels, protect us!--As I live, here comes the lategovernor!' ejaculated the hostess, Mrs. Bridget Sweetbread; suddenlystartled out of her afternoon's nap by the horse's hoofs--and seeingright before her what she took for the apparition of Don Juan; whom, asit afterwards appeared, she had seen in a pantomime the night before. 

'Thunder and lightning! my good woman, ' said the student laughing, 'would you dispute the reality of my flesh and blood?'

Mrs. Bridget, however, on perceiving her mistake, cared neither for thesword nor for the dog, but exclaimed, 'Why then, let me tell you, Sir, it's not the custom in this country to ride into parlours, and disturbhonest folks when they're taking their rest. Innkeeping's not the tradeit has been to me, God he knows: but, for all that, I'll not put up withsuch work from nobody. '

'Good, my dear creature; what you say is good--very good: but let metell you, it's _not_ good that I must be kept waiting in the street, andno soul in attendance to take my horse and feed him. '

'Oh, that base villain of a hostler!' said the landlady, immediatelybegging pardon, and taking hold of the bridle, whilst Mr. Schnackenberger dismounted. 

'That's a good creature, ' said he; 'I love you for this: and I don'tcare if I take up my quarters here, which at first was not my intention. Have you room for me?'

'Room!' answered Mrs. Sweetbread; 'ah! now there's just the whole GoldenSow at your service; the more's the pity. '

On Mr. Jeremiah's asking the reason for this superfluity of room, shepoured out a torrent of abuse against the landlord of _TheDouble-barrelled Gun_, who--not content with having at all times donejustice to his sign--had latterly succeeded, with the help of viciouscoachmen and unprincipled postilions, in drawing away her wholebusiness, and had at length utterly ruined the once famous inn of _TheGolden Sow_. And true it was that the apartment, into which she nowintroduced her guest, showed some vestiges of ancient splendour, in thepictures of six gigantic sows. The late landlord had been a butcher, andhad christened his inn from his practice of slaughtering a pig everyweek; and the six swine, as large as life, and each bearing a separatename, were designed to record his eminent skill in the art of fattening. 

His widow, who was still in mourning for him, must certainly haveunderstood Mr. Schnackenberger's words, '_I love you for this_, ' in asense very little intended by the student. For she brought up supperherself; and, with her own hand, unarmed with spoon or other implement, dived after and secured a little insect which was floundering about inthe soup. So much the greater was her surprise on observing, that, aftersuch flattering proofs of attention, her guest left the soup untouched;and made no particular application to the other dishes--so wellharmonising with the general character of the Golden Sow. At last, however, she explained his want of appetite into the excess of hispassion for herself; and, on that consideration, failed not to laybefore him a statement of her flourishing circumstances, and placed ina proper light the benefits of a marriage with a woman somewhat olderthan himself. 

Mr. Schnackenberger, whose good-nature was infinite, occasionallyinterrupted his own conversation with Juno, the great dog, who meantimewas dispatching the supper without any of her master's scruples, tothrow in a 'Yes, ' or a 'No, '--a, 'Well, ' or a 'So, so. ' But at lengthhis patience gave way, and he started up--saying, 'Well: _Sufficit_:Now--march, old witch!' This harmless expression she took in such illpart, that, for mere peace' sake, he was obliged to lead her to the doorand shut her out: and then, undressing himself, he stepped into bed;and, in defiance of the straw which everywhere stuck out, and a quilt ofa hundred-weight, [21] he sunk into a deep slumber under the agreeableserenade of those clamorous outcries which Mrs. Sweetbread still kept upon the outside of the door. 

[21] The custom in North Germany is to sleep _under_ a bed as well as_upon_ one; consequently, when this happens to be a cheap one, it cannotbe stuffed with feathers, down, &c. , but with some heavier material. 

CHAPTER III. 

IN WHICH OUR HERO POLISHES A ROUGH-RIDER. 

'Fire and furies!' exclaimed Mr. Schnackenberger, as Juno broke out intouproarious barking about midnight: the door was opened from the outside;and in stepped the landlady, arrayed in a night-dress that improved hercharms into a rivalry with those of her sign at the street-door;accompanied by a fellow, who, by way of salutation, cracked an immensehunting-whip. 

'So it's here that I'm to get my own again?' cried the fellow: andforthwith Mr. Jeremiah stepped out of bed, and hauled him up to thelight of the lamp which the landlady carried. 

'Yes, Sir, ' said, the rough-rider, 'it's I, sure enough;' and, to judgeby the countenance of his female conductor, every accent of his angerwas music of the spheres to her unquenchable wrath: 'I'm the man, sureenough, whose horse you rode away with; and _that_ you'll find to be atrue bill. '

'Rode away with!' cried Mr. Jeremiah: 'Now, may the sweetest of allthunderbolts----But, rascal, this instant what's to pay? then take thycarrion out of the stable, and be off. ' So saying, Mr. Schnackenbergerstrode to the bed for his well-filled purse. 

On these signs of solvency, however, the horse-dealer turned up thegentle phasis of his character, and said, 'Nay, nay; since things areso, why it's all right; and, in the Lord's name, keep the horse as longas you want him. '

'Dog! in the first place, and firstly, tell me what's your demand? inthe second place, and secondly, go to the d----l. '

But whilst the rough-rider continued with low bows to decline the firstoffer, being satisfied, as it seemed, with the second, the choleric Mr. Schnackenberger cried out, 'Seize him, Juno!' And straightway Junoleaped upon him, and executed the arrest so punctually--that thetrembling equestrian, without further regard to ceremony, made out hischarge. 

Forthwith Mr. Jeremiah paid down the demand upon the table, throwing insomething extra, with the words, '_That_ for the fright. ' The dealer inhorse-flesh returned him a thousand thanks; hoped for his honour'sfurther patronage; and then, upon being civilly assured by Mr. Jeremiah, that if he did not in one instant _walk_ down the stairs, he would, tohis certain knowledge, have to _fly_ down them; the rough-rider, incompany with the landlady, took a rapid and polite leave of Mr. Schnackenberger; who was too much irritated by the affront to composehimself again to sleep. 

CHAPTER IV. 

HOW MR. SCHNACKENBERGER AND JUNO CONDUCT THEMSELVES WHEN THE HOUSEBECOMES TOO HOT TO HOLD THEM. 

Day was beginning to dawn, when a smoke, which forced its way throughthe door, and which grew every instant thicker and more oppressive, asecond time summoned Mr. Schnackenberger from his bed. As he threw openthe door, such a volume of flames rolled in from the staircase--whichwas already on fire from top to bottom--that he saw there was no time tobe lost: so he took his pipe, loaded it as quickly as possible, lightedit from the flames of the staircase, began smoking, and then, drawing onhis pea-green coat and buckling on his sword, he put his head out of thewindow to see if there were any means of escape. To leap right down uponthe pavement seemed too hazardous; and the most judicious course, itstruck him, would be to let himself down upon the Golden Sow, which wasat no great depth below his window, and from this station to give thealarm. Even this, however, could not be reached without a leap: Mr. Schnackenberger attempted it; and, by means of his great talents forequilibristic exercises, he hit the mark so well, that he plantedhimself in the very saddle, as it were, upon the back of thisrespectable brute. Unluckily, however, there was no house opposite; andMrs. Sweetbread with her people slept at the back. Hence it was, thatfor a very considerable space of time he was obliged to continue ridingthe sign of the Golden Sow; whilst Juno, for whom he could not possiblymake room behind him, looked out of the window, and accompanied hermaster's text of occasional clamours for assistance, with a veryappropriate commentary of howls. 

Some Poles at length passed by: but, not understanding one word ofGerman--and seeing a man thus betimes in the morning mounted on thegolden sow, smoking very leisurely, and occasionally hallooing, as iffor his private amusement, they naturally took Mr. Schnackenberger for amaniac: until, at length, the universal language of fire, which nowbegan to burst out of the window, threw some light upon the darkness oftheir Polish understandings. Immediately they ran for assistance, whichabout the same moment the alarm-bells began to summon. 

However, the fire-engines arrived on the ground before the ladders:these last were the particular objects of Mr. Jeremiah's wishes:meantime, in default of those, and as the second best thing that couldhappen, the engines played with such a well-directed stream of waterupon the window--upon the Golden Sow--and upon Mr. JeremiahSchnackenberger, that for one while they were severally renderedtolerably fire-proof. When at length the ladders arrived, and the peoplewere on the point of applying them to the Golden Sow, he earnestlybegged that they would, first of all, attend to a case of more urgentnecessity: for himself, he was well mounted--as they saw; could assurethem that he was by no means in a combustible state; and, if they wouldbe so good as to be a little more parsimonious with their water, hedidn't care if he continued to pursue his morning's ride a littlelonger. On the other hand, Juno at the window to the right was reducedevery moment to greater extremities, as was pretty plainly indicated bythe increasing violence of her howling. 

But the people took it ill that they should be desired to rescue afour-legged animal; and peremptorily refused. 

'My good lads, ' said the man upon the sow, 'for heaven's sake don'tdelay any longer: one heaven, as Pfeffel observes, is over all goodcreatures that are pilgrims on this earth--let their travelling coat(which by the way is none of their own choosing) be what it may;--smoothlike yours and mine, or shaggy like Juno's. '

But all to no purpose: not Pfeffel himself _in propriâ personâ_ couldhave converted them from the belief that to take any trouble about sucha brute was derogatory to the honour of the very respectable citizens ofB----. 

However, when Mr. Jeremiah drew his purse-strings, and offered a goldenducat to him that would render this service to his dog, instantly somany were the competitors for the honour of delivering the excellentpilgrim in the shaggy coat, that none of them would resign a ladder toany of the rest: and thus, in this too violent zeal for her safety, possibly Juno would have perished--but for a huge Brunswick sausage, which, happening to go past in the mouth of a spaniel, violentlyirritated the appetite of Juno, and gave her courage for the _saltomortale_ down to the pavement. 

'God bless my soul, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, to the men who stoodmourning over the golden soap-bubble that had just burst before theireyes, 'what's to be done now?' and, without delay, he offered the ducatto him that would instantly give chase to Juno, who had already givenchase to the sausage round the street corner, and would restore her tohim upon the spot. And such was the agitation of Mr. Schnackenberger'smind, that for a few moments he seemed as if rising in his stirrups--andon the point of clapping spurs to the Golden Sow for the purpose ofjoining in the chase. 

CHAPTER V. 

FROM WHICH MAY BE DESCRIED THE OBJECT OF MR. SCHNACKENBERGER'S JOURNEYTO B----, AND A PROSPECT OF AN INTRODUCTION TO HIGH LIFE. 

Mr. Schnackenberger's consternation was, in fact, not without veryrational grounds. The case was this. Juno was an English bitch--infamousfor her voracious appetite in all the villages, far and wide, about theuniversity--and, indeed, in all respects, without a peer throughout thewhole country. Of course, Mr. Schnackenberger was much envied on heraccount by a multitude of fellow students; and very large offers weremade him for the dog. To all such overtures, however, the young man hadturned a deaf ear for a long time, and even under the heaviest pecuniarydistresses; though he could not but acknowledge to himself that Junobrought him nothing but trouble and vexation. For not only did thisbrute (generally called the monster) make a practice of visiting otherpeople's kitchens, and appropriating all unguarded dainties--but shewent even to the length of disputing the title to their own propertywith he-cooks and she-cooks, butchers, and butchers' wives, &c. ; andwhosoever had once made acquaintance with the fore-paws of this ravenouslady, allowed her thenceforwards, without resistance, to carry off allsausages or hams which she might choose to sequestrate, and directlypresented a bill to her master; in which bill it commonly happened thatindemnification for the fright, if not expressly charged as one of theitems, had a blank space, however, left for its consideration beneaththe sum total. At length, matters came to that pass, that thereimbursement of Juno's annual outrages amounted to a far larger sumthan Mr. Schnackenberger's own--not very frugal expenditure. On a day, therefore, when Juno had made an entire clearance of the larderappropriated to a whole establishment of day-labourers--and Mr. Schnackenberger had, in consequence, been brought into great trouble inthe university courts, in his first moments of irritation he asked hisfriend Mr. Fabian Sebastian, who had previously made him a large offerfor the dog, whether he were still disposed to take her on those terms. 'Undoubtedly, ' said Mr. Sebastian--promising, at the same time, to laydown the purchase money on that day se'nnight, upon delivery of thearticle. 

Delivery of the article would, no question, have been made upon thespot, had not the vendor repented of his bargain the next moment afterit was concluded: on that account he still kept the dog in his ownpossession, and endeavoured, during the week's respite, to dispose hisfriend's mind to the cancelling of the contract. He, however, insistedon the punctual fulfilment of the treaty--letter and spirit. Never hadMr. Schnackenberger been so much disturbed in mind as at this period. Simply with the view of chasing away the nervous horrors which possessedhis spirits, he had mounted his scare-crow and ridden abroad into thecountry. A remittance, which he had lately received from home, was stillin his purse; and, said he to himself, suppose I were just to ride offto the baths at B---- about fifteen miles distant! Nobody would know methere; and I might at any rate keep Juno a fortnight longer! And exactlyin this way it had happened that Mr. Schnackenberger had come to B----. 

At this instant, he was indebted to a lucky accident for a momentarydiversion of his thoughts from the danger which threatened him in regardto Juno. Amongst other visitors to the baths, who were passing by atthis early hour, happened to be the Princess of * *. Her carriage drewup at the very moment when Mr. Jeremiah, having dismounted from the sow, was descending the ladder: with her usual gracious manner, shecongratulated the student upon his happy deliverance; and, finding thathe was a countryman of her own, she invited him to a ball which she gaveon the evening of that day, in honour of the King's birthday. 

Now it must be acknowledged that a ball-room was not exactly the stageon which Mr. Schnackenberger's habits of life had qualified him forshining: however, the pleasure of a nearer acquaintance with theinteresting princess--held out too flattering a prospect to allow ofhis declining her invitation. Just at this moment Juno returned. 

Meantime the fire (occasioned probably by a spark falling from thelandlady's lamp amongst the straw under the staircase) had beenextinguished: and Mrs. Sweetbread, who had at length been roused at theback, now made her appearance; and with many expressions of regret forwhat had happened to Mr. Schnackenberger, who had entirelyre-established himself in her esteem by his gold-laden purse, and alsoby what she called his 'very handsome behaviour' to the horse-dealer, she requested that he would be pleased to step into one of her backrooms; at the same time, offering to reinstate his clothes in wearablecondition by drying them as rapidly as possible: a necessity which wastoo clamorously urgent for immediate attention--to allow of the drippingstudent's rejecting her offer. 

CHAPTER VI. 

IN WHAT MANNER MR. JEREMIAH PREPARED HIMSELF FOR THE BALL. 

As Mr. Jeremiah stood looking out of the window for the purpose ofwhiling away a tedious forenoon, it first struck his mind--upon thesight of a number of men dressed very differently from himself--thathis wardrobe would scarcely match with the festal splendour of the_fête_ at which he was to be present in the evening. Even if it had beenpossible to overlook the tarnished lustre of his coat, not muchembellished by its late watery trials upon the golden sow, yet he couldnot possibly make his appearance in a surtout. He sent therefore to onetailor after another: but all assured him that they had their hands muchtoo full of business to undertake the conversion of his surtout into adress coat against the evening; still less could they undertake to makea new one. Just as vainly did he look about for shoes: many were onsale; but none of them with premises spacious enough to accommodate hisvery respectable feet. 

All this put him into no little perplexity. True it was, that Mrs. Sweetbread had spontaneously thrown open to his inspection the wardrobeof her deceased husband. But even _he_ had contrived to go through thisworld in shoes of considerably smaller dimensions than Mr. Jeremiahdemanded. And from a pretty large choice of coats there was not onewhich he could turn to account. For, to say nothing of their being oneand all too short by a good half ell, even in the very best of them helooked precisely as that man looks who has lately slaughtered a hog, oras that man looks who designs to slaughter a hog. 

Now, then, when all his plans for meeting the exigencies of his case hadturned out abortive, suddenly a bold idea struck him. In a sort ofinspiration he seized a pair of scissors, for the purpose of convertingwith his own untutored hand of genius his pea-green surtout into apea-green frock. This operation having, in his own judgment, succeededto a marvel, he no longer hesitated to cut out a pair of ball shoes fromhis neat's-leather 'field-pieces. ' Whatever equipments were stillwanting could be had for money, with the exception of a shirt; and, asto _that_, the wedding shirt of the late Mr. Sweetbread would answer thepurpose very passably. 

What provoked our hero most of all were the new patent shoe-buckles, thefine points of which would not take firm hold of the coarse leathershoes, but on every bold step burst asunder--so that he was obliged tokeep his eye warily upon them, and in consideration of their tendercondition, to set his feet down to the ground very gently. 

The hostess had just sunk pretty deep into her customary failing ofintoxication, when he went to her and asked how he looked in his galadress. 

'Look!' said she; 'why, like a king baked in gingerbread. Ah! now, sucha man as you is the man for my money:--stout, and resolute, and active, and a man that----'

'Basta! sufficit, my dear. '

'To be sure, for his professional merit, I mustn't say anything againstthe late Mr. Sweetbread: No, nobody must say anything against _that_: hewas the man for slaughtering of swine; Oh! he slaughtered them, that itwas beautiful to see! pigs in particular, and pigs in general, were whathe understood. Ah! lord! to my dying day I shall never forget the greatsow that he presented to our gracious princess when she was at thebaths, two years come Michaelmas. Says her Highness to him, saysshe, --"Master, " says she, "one may see by your look that you understandhow to fatten: anybody, " says she, "may see it in his face: a child maysee it by the very look on him. Ah!" says her Highness, "he's the manfor swine: he was born to converse with hogs: he's a heaven-born curerof bacon. "--Lord! Mr. Schnackenberger, you'll not believe how thesegracious words revived my very heart! The tears came into my eyes, and Icouldn't speak for joy. But, when all's said and done, what's fame?what's glory? say I. A man like you is the man for me: but for suchanother lazy old night-cap as the late Mr. Sweetbread----'

'Bah! sufficit, sweetheart;' at the same time squeezing her hand, whichshe took as an intimation that she ought not to trouble herself with thepast, but rather look forward to a joyous futurity. 

As the hour drew near for presenting himself in the circle of theprincess, Mr. Jeremiah recommended to her the most vigilant care ofJuno, from whom he very unwillingly separated himself in these last daysof their connection--and not until he had satisfied himself that it wasabsolutely impossible to take her with him to the ball. Anotherfavourite, namely, his pipe, ought also, he feared, in strict proprietyto be left behind. But in the first place, 'who knows, ' thought he, 'butthere may be one room reserved for such ladies and gentlemen as chooseto smoke?' And, secondly, let _that_ be as it might, he considered thatthe great _meerschaum_[22] head of his pipe--over which he watched asover the apple of his eye--could nowhere be so safely preserved as inhis own pocket: as to any protuberance that it might occasion, _that_ hevalued not at a rush. Just as little did he care for the grotesqueappearance of the mouth-piece, which in true journeyman's fashion stuckout from the opening of his capacious pocket to a considerable distance. 

[22] '_Meerschaum_:' I believe a particular kind of clay, called'sea-spray, ' from its fineness and lightness, from which the boles ofpipes are made in Turkey--often at enormous prices, and much importedinto Germany, where they are in great request. Such is the extent of_my_ knowledge on the subject; or perhaps of my ignorance. But, in fact, I know nothing about it. 

'And now don't you go and forget some people in the midst of all thisshow of powdered puppies, ' cried the landlady after him. 

'Ah! my darling!' said he, laughing, 'just mind Juno: have an eye toJuno, my darling;' and for Juno's sake he suppressed the '_old witch_, 'that his lips were itching a second time to be delivered of. 

CHAPTER VII. 

MR. SCHNACKENBERGER IS ENAMOURED, AND OF WHOM; AND WHAT PROSPECTS OPENUPON HIM IN HIS PURSUIT OF 'LA BELLE PASSION. '

At the hotel of the princess, all the resources of good taste andhospitality were called forth to give _éclat_ to the _fête_, and dohonour to the day; and by ten o'clock, a very numerous and brilliantcompany had already assembled. 

So much the more astounding must have been the entry of Mr. JeremiahSchnackenberger; who, by the way, was already familiar to the eyes ofmany, from his very public entrance into the city on the precedingevening, and to others from his morning's exhibition on the golden sow. His eyes and his thoughts being occupied by the single image of thefascinating hostess, of course it no more occurred to him to remark thathis self-constructed coat was detaching itself at every step from itslinings, whilst the pockets of the ci-devant surtout still displayedtheir original enormity of outline--than in general it would ever haveoccurred to him that the _tout ensemble_ of his costume was likely tomake, and _had_, in fact, made a very great sensation. 

This very general attention to Mr. Schnackenberger, and the totalunconsciousness of this honour on the part of Mr. Schnackenbergerhimself, did not escape the notice of the princess; and, at the firstopportunity, she dispatched a gentleman to draw his attention to theindecorum of his dress--and to put him in the way of making the properalterations. Laughter and vexation struggled in Mr. Schnackenberger'smind, when he became aware of the condition of his equipments: and hevery gladly accompanied the ambassador of his hostess into a privateroom, where clothes and shoes were furnished him, in which he lookedlike any other reasonable man. On his return to the ball-room, he lostno time in making his acknowledgments to the princess, and explainingthe cause of his unbecoming attire. The princess, with a naturalgoodness of heart and true hospitality, was anxious to do what she couldto restore her strange guest to satisfaction with himself, and toestablish him in some credit with the company: she had besidesdiscovered with pleasure that amidst all his absurdities, Mr. Schnackenberger was really a man of some ability: on these severalconsiderations, therefore, she exerted herself to maintain a pretty longconversation with him; which honour Mr. Jeremiah so far misinterpreted, as to ascribe it to an interest of a very tender character. To Mr. Schnackenberger, who had taken up the very extraordinary conceit thathis large person had some attractions about it, there could naturally benothing very surprising in all this: and he felt himself called upon notto be wanting to himself, but to push his good fortune. Accordingly, hekept constantly about the person of the princess: let her move in whatdirection she would, there was Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger at handready to bewitch her with his conversation; and, having discovered thatshe was an amateur of botany, and purposed visiting a botanical gardenon the following day, he besieged her with offers of his services in thecapacity of guide. 

'Possibly, when the time comes, ' said the princess, aloud, 'I shallavail myself of your goodness;' and the visible displeasure, with whichshe withdrew herself from his worrying importunities, so obviouslydisposed all the bystanders to smile--that Mr. Schnackenberger himselfbecame alive to his own _bétise_, and a blush of shame and vexationsuffused his countenance. What served at the moment greatly toexasperate these feelings, was the behaviour of a certain Mr. VonPilsen--who had from the first paid uncommon attention to the veryextraordinary phenomenon presented by Mr. Schnackenberger's person--hadwatched the whole course of the persecutions with which he haddistressed the princess--and at this moment seemed quite unable to setany bounds to his laughter. In extreme dudgeon, Mr. Schnackenbergerhastened into one of the most remote apartments, and flung himself backupon a sofa. Covering his, eyes with his hands, he saw none of thenumbers who passed by him. But the first time that he looked up, behold!a paper was lying upon his breast. He examined it attentively; and foundthe following, words written in pencil, to all appearance by a femalehand: 'We are too narrowly watched in this place. To-morrow morningabout nine o'clock! The beautiful botanic gardens will secure us afortunate rendezvous. '

'Aye, ' said Mr. Jeremiah, 'sure enough it's from her!' He read the noteagain and again: and the more unhappy he had just now been, so much themore was he now intoxicated with his dawning felicities. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

IN WHICH JUNO PLAYS A PRINCIPAL PART. 

The rattling of a chain through crashing glass and porcelain, whichspread alarm through the ball-room, would hardly have drawn Mr. Schnackenberger's attention in his present condition of rapturouselevation, had not the well-known voice of Juno reached his ears at thesame moment. He hurried after the sound--shocked, and to be shocked. Thefact was simply this: Juno had very early in the evening withdrawnherself from the _surveillance_ of the Golden Sow, and had followed hermaster's steps. Often ejected from the mansion of the princess, she hadas often returned; so that at last it was thought best to chain her upin the garden. Unfortunately, a kitten belonging to a young femaleattendant of the princess had suddenly run past; Juno made a rush afterit; the chain broke away from the woodwork of the kennel; thepanic-struck kitten retreated into the house--taking the first roadwhich presented: close upon the rear of the kitten pressed Juno and herchain; close upon the rear of Juno pressed the young woman in anguishfor her kitten's life, and armed with a fly-flapper; and, the roadhappening to lead into the ball-room, the whole train--pursuers andpursued--helter-skelter fell into the quarters of the waltzers. Thekitten attempted to take up a position behind a plateau on one of theside-boards: but from this she was immediately dislodged by Juno; andthe retreat commencing afresh right across the side-boards which wereloaded with refreshments, all went to wreck--glasses and china, all wasafloat--sherbet and lemonade, raspberry-vinegar and orgeat: and at thevery moment when Mr. Jeremiah returned, the belligerent powers drippingwith celestial nectar--having just charged up a column of dancers--werewheeling through the door by which he had entered: and the first checkto the wrath of Juno was the seasonable arrest of her master's voice. 

That the displeasure of the dancers, who had been discomposed andbesprinkled by Juno, fell entirely upon her master, was pretty evidentfrom their faces. Of all the parties concerned, however, none was moreirritated than the young woman; she was standing upon the stairs, caressing and fondling her kitten, as Mr. Schnackenberger went down, leading Juno in his pocket-handkerchief; and she let drop some such veryaudible hints upon the ill-breeding and boorishness of certain pretendedgentlemen, that Mr. Schnackenberger would, without doubt, have given hera very severe reprimand--if he had not thought it more dignified toaffect to overlook her. 

CHAPTER IX. 

WHICH TREATS OF EXPERIMENTS NOT VERY COMMON AT BIRTHDAY _FÊTES_. 

'Now, my dears, ' said Mr. Von Pilsen to a party who were helping him tolaugh at the departed Mr. Schnackenberger, 'as soon as the fellowreturns, we must get him into our party at supper. '

'Returns?' exclaimed another; 'why I should fancy he had had enough ofbirthday _fêtes_ for one life. '

'You think so?' said Von Pilsen: 'so do not I. No, no, my good creature;I flatter myself that I go upon pretty sure grounds: I saw those eyeswhich he turned upon the princess on making his exit: and mind what Isay, he takes his beast home, and----comes back again. Therefore, besure, and get him amongst us at supper, and set the barrel abroach. Iwouldn't for all the world the monster should go away untapped. '

The words were scarce uttered, when, sure enough, the body, or 'barrel, 'of Mr. Schnackenberger did roll into the room for a second time. Forthwith Von Pilsen and his party made up to him; and Pilsen havingfirst with much art laboured to efface any suspicions which might havepossessed the student's mind in consequence of his former laughter, proceeded to thank him for the very extraordinary sport which his doghad furnished; and protested that he must be better acquainted withhim. 

'Why, as to _that_, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, 'a better acquaintancemust naturally be very agreeable to me. But, in respect to the dog, andwhat you call the sport, I'm quite of another opinion; and would giveall I'm worth that it had not happened. '

'Oh! no, ' they all declared; 'the _fête_ would have wanted its mostbrilliant features if Mr. Schnackenberger or his dog had been absent. No, no: without flattery he must allow them to call him the richest fundof amusement--the brightest attraction of the evening. ' ButSchnackenberger shook his head incredulously; said he wished he couldthink so: but with a deep sigh he persisted in his own opinion; in whichhe was the more confirmed, when he perceived that the princess, who wasnow passing him to the supper-room, turned away her eyes the moment sheperceived him. 

In this state of mind Mr. Jeremiah naturally, but unconsciously, lenthimself to the designs of his new acquaintances. Every glass that thedevil of mischief and of merry malice poured out, did the devil ofSchnackenberger's despair drink off; until at last the latter devil wastolerably well drowned in wine. 

About this time enter Juno again--being her second (and positively last)appearance upon these boards. Mr. Jeremiah's new friends paid so muchhomage to the promising appearance of her jaws, that they made room forher very respectfully as she pressed up to her master. He, whose recentexcesses in wine had re-established Juno in the plenitude of her favour, saw with approving calmness his female friend lay both her fore-paws onthe table--and appropriate all that remained on his plate, to theextreme astonishment of all present. 

'My friend, ' said Mr. Jeremiah, to a footman who was on the point ofpulling away the unbidden guest, 'don't you, for God's sake, get intoany trouble. My Juno understands no jesting on these occasions: and itmight so happen that she would leave a mark of her remembrance with you, that you would not forget so long as you lived. '

'But I suppose, Sir, you won't expect that a dog can be allowed to supwith her Highness's company!'

'Oh! faith, Sir, credit me--the dog is a more respectable member ofsociety than yourself, and many a one here present: so just leave me andmy Juno unmolested. Else I may, perhaps, take the trouble to make anexample of you. '

The princess, whose attention was now drawn, made a sign to the servantto retire; and Von Pilsen and his friends could scarcely keep down theirlaughter to a well-bred key, when Mr. Schnackenberger drew his pipe fromhis pocket--loaded it--lit it at one of the chandeliers over thesupper-table--and, in one minute, wrapped the whole neighbourhood in avoluminous cloud of smoke. 

As some little damper to their merriment, however, Mr. Schnackenbergeraddressed a few words to them from time to time:--'You laugh, gentlemen, ' said he; 'and, doubtless, there's something or other veryamusing, --no doubt, infinitely amusing, if one could but find it out. However, I could make your appetites for laughing vanish--aye, vanish inone moment. For, understand me now, one word--one little word from me toJuno, and, in two minutes, the whole room shall be as empty as if it hadbeen swept out with a broom. Just the first that I look at, no matterwhom, she catches by the breast--aye, just you, Sir, or you, Sir, oryou, Mr. Von Pilsen, ' (fixing his eye upon him) 'if I do but say--seizehim, Juno!' The word had fled: and in the twinkling of an eye, Juno'sfore-paws, not over clean, were fixed in the elegant white silkwaistcoat of Mr. Von Pilsen. 

This scene was the signal for universal uproar and alarm. Even Mr. Jeremiah, on remarking the general rising of the company, though totallyunaware that his harmless sport had occasioned it, rose also; called thedog off: and comforted Von Pilsen, who was half dead with fright, byassuring him that had he but said--'Bite him, Juno!'--matters would haveended far worse. 

On Mr. Schnackenberger's standing up, his bodily equilibrium wasmanifestly so much endangered, that one of the company, out of merehumanity, offered his servant to see him safe home. A slightconsciousness of his own condition induced our hero to accept of thisoffer: through some misunderstanding, however, the servant led him, notto the Golden Sow, but to the Double-barrelled Gun. 

Mr. Schnackenberger, on being asked for his number, said 'No. 5;' thatbeing the number of his room at the Golden Sow. He was accordingly shownup to No. 5: and, finding a bed under an alcove, he got into it dressedas he was; and, in one moment, had sunk into a profound slumber. 

CHAPTER X. 

WHICH NARRATES AN ENGAGEMENT ON UNEQUAL TERMS--FIRST FOR ONE SIDE, THENFOR THE OTHER. 

Half an hour after came the true claimant; who, being also drunk, wentright up-stairs without troubling the waiter; and forthwith getting intobed, laid himself right upon Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger. 

'D----n this heavy quilt, ' said the student, waking up and recollectingthe hundred-pounder of the preceding night; and, without furtherceremony, he kicked the supposed quilt into the middle of the room. 

Now began war: for the 'quilt' rose up without delay; and Mr. Schnackenberger, who had been somewhat worse handled than his opponentby the devil of drunkenness, would doubtless have come by the worst, hadhe not in his extremity ejaculated 'Juno!' whereupon she, putting asideall selfish considerations, which at the moment had fastened her to aleg of mutton in the kitchen, rushed up on the summons of duty, andcarried a reinforcement that speedily turned the scale of victory. Thealarm, which this hubbub created, soon brought to the field of battlethe whole population of the inn, in a very picturesque variety ofnight-dresses; and the intruding guest would in all likelihood have beenkicked back to the Golden Sow; but that the word of command to theirritated Juno, which obviously trembled on his lips, was deemed worthyof very particular attention and respect. 

CHAPTER XI. 

IN WHICH UNFORTUNATE LOVE MEDITATES REVENGE. 

At half-past ten on the following morning, at which time Mr. Schnackenberger first unclosed his eyes, behold! at the foot of his bedwas sitting my hostess of the Golden Sow. 'Aye, ' said she, 'I think it'stime, Sir: and it's time, I think, to let you know what it is to affronta creditable body before all the world. '

'Nay, for God's sake, old one, what's the matter?' said Mr. Schnackenberger, laughing and sitting bolt upright in bed. 

'Old? Well, if I have a few more years on my head, I've a little morethought _in_ it: but, perhaps, you're not altogether so thoughtless asI've been fancying in your actings towards me poor unfortunate widow: ifthat's the case, you are a base wicked man; and you deserve--'

'Why, woman, how now? Has a tarantula bit you; or what is it? Speak. '

'Speak! Aye, I'll speak; and all the world shall hear me. First of allcome you riding into my bar like a crazy man: and I, good easy creature, let myself be wheedled, carry you meat--drink--everything--with my ownhands; sit by your side; keep you in talk the whole evening, for fearyou should be tired; and, what was my reward? "March, " says you, "oldwitch. " Well, that passed on. At midnight I am called out of my bed--foryour sake: and the end of that job is, that along of you the Sow is halfburned down. But for all that, I say never an ill word to you. I openthe late Mr. Sweetbread's clothes-presses to you: his poor innocentwedding-shirt you don over your great shameless body; go off; leave mebehind with a masterful dog, that takes a roast leg of mutton from offthe spit; and, when he should have been beat for it, runs off with itinto the street. You come back with the beast. Not to offend you, I saynever a word of what he has done. Off you go again: well: scarce is yourback turned, when the filthy carrion begins running my rabbits up anddown the yard; eats up all that he can catch; and never a one would havebeen left to tell the tale, if the great giantical hostler (him asblacked your shoes) hadn't ha' cudgelled him off. And after all this, there are you hopping away at the ball wi' some painted doll--lookingbabies in her eyes--quite forgetting me that has to sit up for you athome pining and grieving: and all isn't enough, but at last you musttrot off to another inn. '

'What then, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, 'is it fact that I'm not at theGolden Sow?'

'Charming!' said Mrs. Sweetbread; 'and so you would make believe youdon't know it; but I shall match you, or find them as will: rest yousure of _that_. '

'Children!' said Mr. Schnackenberger to the waiter and boots, who werelistening in astonishment with the door half-open; 'of all loves, rid meof this monster. '

'Aye, what!' said she in a voice of wrath; and put herself on thedefensive. But a word or two of abuse against the landlord of theDouble-barrelled Gun, which escaped her in her heat, irritated the mento that degree, that in a few moments afterwards Mrs. Sweetbread wasventing her wrath in the street--to the wonder of all passers-by, wholooked after her until she vanished into the house of a well-knownattorney. 

Meantime, Mr. Schnackenberger, having on inquiry learned from the waiter inwhat manner he had come to the inn--and the night-scene which had followed, was apologizing to the owner of No. 5, --when, to his great alarm the churchclock struck eleven. 'Nine, ' he remembered, was the hour fixed by thebillet: and the more offence he might have given to the princess by hisabsurdities over-night, of which he had some obscure recollection, so muchthe more necessary was it that he should keep the appointment. The botanicgarden was two miles off: so, shutting up Juno, he ordered a horse: and indefault of boots, which, alas! existed no longer in that shape, he mountedin silk stockings and pumps; and rode off at a hand gallop. 

CHAPTER XII. 

MR. SCHNACKENBERGER'S ENGAGEMENT WITH AN OLD BUTTERWOMAN. 

The student was a good way advanced on his road, when he descried theprincess, attended by another lady and a gentleman approaching in an opencarriage. As soon, however, as he was near enough to be recognised by theparty in the carriage, the princess turned away her head with manifest signsof displeasure--purely, as it appeared, to avoid noticing Mr. Jeremiah. Scarcely, however, was the carriage past him, together with Mr. Von Pilsen, who galloped by him in a tumult of laughter, when the ill-fate of our heroso ordered it, that all eyes which would not notice him for his honourshould be reverted upon his disgrace. The white turnpike gate so frightenedour rider's horse, that he positively refused to pass it: neither whip norspur would bring him to reason. Meantime, up comes an old butterwoman. [23]At the very moment when she was passing, the horse in his panic steps backand deposits one of his hind legs in the basket of the butterwoman: downcomes the basket with all its eggs, rotten and sound; and down comes the oldwoman, squash, into the midst of them. "Murder! Murder!" shouted thebutterwoman; and forthwith every individual thing that could command a pairor two pair of legs ran out of the turnpike-house; the carriage of theprincess drew up, to give the ladies a distant view of Mr. Schnackenbergerengaged with the butterwoman; and Mr. Von Pilsen wheeled his horse roundinto a favourable station for seeing anything the ladies might overlook. Rage gave the old butterwoman strength; she jumped up nimbly, and seized Mr. Schnackenberger so stoutly by the laps of his coat, that he vainlyendeavoured to extricate himself from her grasp. At this crisis, up cameJuno, and took her usual side in such disputes. But to do this with effect, Juno found it necessary first of all to tear off the coat lap; for, the oldwoman keeping such firm hold of it, how else could Juno lay her down on herback--set her paws upon her breast--and then look up to her master, as ifasking for a certificate of having acquitted herself to his satisfaction?

[23] In the original--'eine marketenderin, ' a female sutler: but I havealtered it, to save an explanation of what the old sutler was after. 

To rid himself of spectators, Mr. Jeremiah willingly paid the old woman thefull amount of her demand, and then returned to the city. It disturbed himgreatly, however, that the princess should thus again have seen him undercircumstances of disgrace. Anxious desire to lay open his heart beforeher--and to place himself in a more advantageous light, if not as to hisbody, yet at all events as to his intellect--determined him to use hisutmost interest with her to obtain a private audience; 'at which, ' thoughthe, 'I can easily beg her pardon for having overslept the appointed hour. '

CHAPTER XIII. 

IN WHICH GOOD LUCK AND BAD LUCK ARE DISTRIBUTED IN EQUAL PROPORTIONS. 

The good luck seemed to have anticipated Mr. Schnackenberger's nearestwishes. For on reaching the Double-barrelled Gun, whither he arrived withoutfurther disturbance than that of the general gazing to which he was exposedby the fragment of a coat which survived from the late engagement, a billetwas put into his hands of the following tenor: 'Come and explain thisevening, if you can explain, your astonishing neglect of this morning'sappointment. I shall be at the theatre; and shall do what I can to dismissmy attendants. '

But bad luck came also--in the person of a lawyer. The lawyer stated that hecalled on the part of the landlady of the Golden Sow, to put the questionfor the last time in civil terms, 'whether Mr. Schnackenberger were preparedto fulfil those just expectations which he had raised in her heart; orwhether she must be compelled to pursue her claims by due course of law. '

Mr. Schnackenberger was beginning to launch out with great fury upon theshameless and barefaced impudence of such expectations: but the attorneyinterrupted him; and observed with provoking coolness, 'that there was nooccasion for any warmth--no occasion in the world; that certainly Mrs. Sweetbread could not have framed these expectations wholly out of the air:something (and he grinned sarcastically), something, it must be supposed, had passed: now, for instance, this wedding-shirt of the late Mr. Sweetbread--she would hardly, I think, have resigned this to your use, Mr. Schnackenberger, unless some engagements had preceded either in the shape ofwords or of actions. However, said he, this is no part of my business: whatremains for me to do on this occasion is to present her account; and let meadd, that I am instructed to say that, if you come to a proper understandingwith her on the first point, no further notice will be taken of this lastpart of my client's demand. 

The unfortunate Mr. Schnackenberger considered the case most ruefully and inawful perturbation. He perspired exceedingly. However, at length--'Come, Idon't care, ' said he, 'I know what I'll do:' and then sitting down, he drewup a paper, which he presented to Mr. Attorney; at the same time, explainingto him that, rather than be exposed in a court of justice as a supposedlover of Mrs. Sweetbread's, he was content to pay the monstrous charges ofher bill without applying to a magistrate for his revision: but upon thiscondition only, that Mrs. Sweetbread should for herself, heirs, andassigns, execute a general release with regard to Mr. JeremiahSchnackenberger's body, according to the form here drawn up by himself, andshould engage on no pretence whatever to set up any claim to him in times tocome. 

The attorney took his leave for the purpose of laying this _release_ beforehis client: but the landlord of the Double-barrelled Gun, to whom inconfidence Mr. Jeremiah disclosed his perilous situation, shook his head, and said, that if the other party signed the release on the conditionsoffered, it would be fortunate: as in that case, Mr. Schnackenberger wouldcome off on much easier terms than twenty-three other gentlemen had done, who had all turned into the Golden Sow on different occasions, but not oneof whom had ever got clear of the Golden Sow without an expensive contest atlaw. 'God bless my soul!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, who now 'funked'[24]enormously; 'if that's the case, she might well have so much spare room tooffer me: twenty-three gentlemen! God bless my soul!'

[24] If any reader should happen not to be acquainted with this word, which, however, is fine old English, and classical at Eton, &c. --the nearestsynonym which I remember at this moment is _Expavesco_. 

At this instant, a servant brought back the shoes and clothes of Mr. Schnackenberger's own manufacture, which had been pulled off and left at thehotel of the princess. The student gave up the pumps and the borrowed coatto the astonished servant, with an assurance that he would wait on herHighness and make his personal excuses to her, on account of 'a littleaccident' which had that morning befallen the coat. He then dispatched hisown coat to a quarter where something or other might be done to fit it forthis sublunary world. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

IN WHAT WAY MR. JEREMIAH SUPPLIES THE WANT OF HIS COAT. 

The play-hour was arrived; and yet no coat was forthcoming from the tailor:on the contrary, the tailor himself was gone to the play. The landlord ofthe Double-barrelled Gun, who would readily have lent one, was off upon arural excursion, and not expected at home before the next morning; and thewaiter, whose assistance would not have been disdained in such a pressingemergency, was of so spare and meagre a habit, that, in spite of furiousexertions on the part of Mr. Schnackenberger, John's coat would not letitself be entered upon by this new tenant. In this exigency, John bethoughthim of an old clothesman in the neighbourhood. There he made inquiries. Buthe, alas! was out on his summer rounds with his whole magazine of clothes;no one article being left with his wife, except a great box-coat, such as istechnically called a 'dreadnought, ' for which it was presumed that no demandcould possibly arise at this season of the year. 

On this report being made, to the great astonishment of the waiter, Mr. Jeremiah said, 'Well, then, let us have the dreadnought. If the Fatesordain that I should go to the play in the dog-days apparelled in adreadnought, let not me vainly think of resisting their decrees. '

'But, ' said the waiter, shrugging his shoulders, 'the people----'

'The what?' said Mr. Schnackenberger: 'the _people_--was it you said; the_people_? Pray how many people do you reckon to a man? No, Sir, do as I bidyou; just bring me the dreadnought and a round hat. '

The waiter obeyed: and, although the dreadnought was by one good ell tooshort, yet Mr. Jeremiah exulted in his strange apparel, because he flatteredhimself that in such a disguise he could preserve a strict incognito; with aview to which he also left Juno behind, recommending her to the vigilantattentions of the waiter. 

CHAPTER XV. 

WHICH CONTAINS A PLAY WITHIN A PLAY. 

All the world was astonished, when from the door of the Double-barrelled Guna man stepped forth on the hottest day in August, arrayed as for a Siberianwinter in a dreadnought, guarded with furs, and a hat pressed down, so asalmost to cover his face. The train of curious persons who attended hismotions naturally grew larger at every step. 

Whosoever had hitherto doubted whether this man were mad--doubted nolonger when he was seen to enter the theatre; where in the lightestsummer-clothing the heat was scarcely supportable. 

Within the theatre, the attention of all people was directed soundividedly upon himself, that even Mr. Schnackenberger began to opinethat he had undertaken something extraordinary: so much the more, thought he, will it be prudent to hide my face, that I may not againcompromise my dignity in the presence of her Highness. But thisconcealment of his face raised the strongest suspicions against him. Throughout the whole house--pit--boxes--and galleries--there was but onesubject of conversation, viz. The man in the dreadnought; and, whilstin all other parts the house was crowded to excess, upon his bench nosoul would sit: and he _created_ as much superfluity of room as he had_found_ at the Golden Sow. At length the manager waited upon him, andrequested that he would either retire from the theatre, or that he wouldexplain what could have induced him to make his appearance in a costumewhich had spread alarm and anxiety through the public mind; and whichwas likely to do a serious injury to the receipts of the night. 

At this moment several children began to cry--taking him for black[25]Robert. The consequence was, that, as they could not be pacified, thefirst scene was mere dumb show to the audience; and some giddy youngpeople set up a loud 'off, off, Dreadnought!' which cry was instantlyseconded by the public. Nevertheless, as the princess at that instantentered her box, Mr. Schnackenberger, however hard pressed, thought itbecame him to maintain his post to the last extremity. This extremityforthwith appeared in the shape of three armed soldiers, who, on behalfof the police, took him into custody. Possibly Mr. Jeremiah might haveshown himself less tractable to the requests of these superannuatedantiquities--but for two considerations; first, that an opportunitymight thus offer of exchanging his dreadnought for a less impressivecostume; and, secondly, that in case of his declining to accompany them, he saw signs abroad that a generous and enlightened public did veryprobably purpose to kick him out; a conjecture which was considerablystrengthened by the universal applause which attended his exit at quicktime. 

[25] In the original _Knecht Rupert_. The allusion is to an oldChristmas usage of North Germany: a person comes in disguise, in thecharacter of an ambassador from heaven, with presents for all the youngchildren who are reported to him as good and obedient: but those who arenaughty he threatens and admonishes. See Coleridge's _Friend_, vol. Ii. P. 322. 

Mr. Schnackenberger was escorted by an immense retinue of oldstreet-padders and youthful mud-larks to the city gaol. His own view ofthe case was, that the public had been guilty of a row, and ought to bearrested. But the old Mayor, who was half-deaf, comprehended not asyllable of what he said: all his remonstrances about 'pressingbusiness' went for nothing: and, when he made a show of escaping uponseeing the gloomy hole into which he was now handed, his worshipthreatened him with drawing out the city guard. 

From one of this respectable body, who brought him straw to lie upon, and the wretched prison allowance of food, he learned that hisexamination could not take place that day nor even the next; for thenext was a holiday, on which Mr. Mayor never did any business. Onreceiving this dolorous information, Mr. Schnackenberger's first impulsewas to knock down his informant and run away: but a moment'sconsideration satisfied him--that, though he might by this means escapefrom his cell, he could have no chance of forcing the prison gates. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

IN WHAT WAY MR. JEREMIAH ESCAPES; AND WHAT HE FINDS IN THE STREET. 

A most beautiful moonlight began at this juncture to throw its beams inthe prison, when Mr. Schnackenberger, starting up from his sleeplesscouch, for pure rage, seized upon the iron bars of his window, and shookthem with a fervent prayer, that instead of bars it had pleased God toput Mr. Mayor within his grasp. To his infinite astonishment, the barswere more obedient to his wrath than could have been expected. One shakemore, and like a row of carious teeth they were all in Mr. Schnackenberger's hand. 

It may be supposed that Mr. Schnackenberger lost no time in using hisgood fortune; indeed, a very slight jump would suffice to place him atliberty. Accordingly, when the sentinel had retired to a littledistance, he flung his dreadnought out of the window--leaped uponit--and stood without injury on the outside of the prison. 

'Who goes there?' cried the alarmed sentinel, coyly approaching the spotfrom which the noise issued. 

'Nobody, ' said the fugitive: and by way of answer to thechallenge--'Speak, or I must fire'--which tremulously issued from thelips of the city hero, Mr. Schnackenberger, gathering up hisdreadnought to his breast, said in a hollow voice, 'Fellow, thou art adead man. '

Straightway the armed man fell upon his knees before him, and criedout--'ah! gracious Sir! have mercy upon me. I am a poor wig-maker; and abad trade it is; and I petitioned his worship, and have done for thismany a year, to be taken into the city guard; and yesterday I passed--'

'Passed what?'

'Passed my examination, your honour:--his worship put me through themanual exercise: and I was 'triculated into the corps. It would be a sadthing, your honour, to lose my life the very next day after I was'triculated. '

'Well, ' said Mr. Jeremiah, who with much ado forbore laughingimmoderately, 'for this once I shall spare your life: but thenremember--not a word, no sound or syllable. '

'Not one, your honour, I vow to heaven. '

'And down upon the spot deliver me your coat, side arms, and hat. '

But the martial wig-maker protested that, being already ill of a cold, he should, without all doubt, perish if he were to keep guard in hisshirt-sleeves. 

'Well, in that case, this dreadnought will be a capital article: allowme to prescribe it--it's an excellent sudorific. '

Necessity has no law: and so, to save his life, the city hero, aftersome little struggle, submitted to this unusual exchange. 

'Very good!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, as the warrior in thedreadnought, after mounting his round hat, again shouldered hismusket:--'Now, good-night;' and so saying, he hastened off to theresidence of the Mayor. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

MR. JEREMIAH'S NIGHT INTERVIEW WITH THE MAYOR UPON STATE AFFAIRS. 

'Saints in heaven! is this the messenger of the last day?' screamed outa female voice, as the doorbell rang out a furious alarum--peal uponpeal--under that able performer, Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger. Shehastened to open the door; but, when she beheld a soldier in the stateuniform, she assured him it was all over with him; for his worship wasgone to bed; and, when _that_ was the case, he never allowed of anydisturbance without making an example. 

'Aye, but I come upon state business. '

'No matter, ' said the old woman, 'it's all one: when his worship sleeps, business must sleep: that's the law, I'll assure you, and _has_ been anytime since I can think on. He always commits, at the least. '

'Very likely; but I _must_ speak to him. '

'Well, then, take the consequences on yourself, ' said she: 'recollect, you're a state soldier; you'll be brought to a court-martial; you'll beshot. '

'Ah! well: that's _my_ concern. '

'Mighty well, ' said the old woman: 'one may as well speak to the wind. However, _I_'ll get out the way: _I_'ll not come near the hurricane. Anddon't you say, I didn't warn you. '

So saying, she let him up to her master's bed-room door, and thentrotted off as fast and as far as she could. 

At this moment Mr. Mayor, already wakened and discomposed by the violenttintinnabulation, rushed out: 'What!' said he, 'am I awake? Is it aguardsman that has this audacity?'

'No guardsman, Mr. Mayor, ' said our hero; in whose face his worship wasvainly poring with the lamp to spell out the features of some oneamongst the twelve members of the state-guard; 'no guardsman, but agentleman that was apprehended last night at the theatre. '

'Ah!' said the Mayor, trembling in every limb, 'a prisoner, and escaped?And perhaps has murdered the guard?--What would you have of me--me, apoor, helpless, unfortunate man?'

And, at every word he spoke, he continued to step back towards a bellthat lay upon the table. 

'_Basta_, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, taking the bell out of his hands. 'Mr. Mayor, I'm just the man in the dreadnought. And I've a question toask you, Mr. Mayor; and I thought it was rather long to wait untilmorning; so I took the liberty of coming for an answer to-night; and I'dthink myself particularly obliged to you for it now:--Upon whatauthority do you conceive yourself entitled to commit me, an innocentman, and without a hearing, to an abominable hole of a dungeon? I havenot murdered the guard, Mr. Mayor: but I troubled him for his regimentalcoat, that I might gain admittance to your worship: and I left him thedreadnought in exchange. '

'The dreadnought?' said the Mayor. 'Aye: now this very dreadnought itwas, Sir, that compelled me (making a low bow) to issue my warrant foryour apprehension. ' And it then came out, that in a list of stolengoods recently lodged with the magistrates, a dreadnought wasparticularly noticed: and Mr. Mayor having seen a man enter the theatrein an article answering to the description, and easily identified by ablack cross embroidered upon the back, was obliged by his duty to havehim arrested; more especially as the wearer had increased the suspicionagainst himself by concealing his face. 

This explanation naturally reconciled Mr. Schnackenberger to the arrest:and as to the filthy dungeon, _that_ admitted of a still simplerapology, as it seemed that the town afforded no better. 

'Why then, Mr. Mayor, --as things stand, it seems to me that in the pointof honour I ought to be satisfied: and in that case I still considermyself your prisoner, and shall take up my quarters for this night inyour respectable mansion. '

'But no!' thought Mr. Mayor: 'better let a rogue escape, than keep a manwithin my doors that may commit a murder on my body. ' So he assured Mr. Schnackenberger--that he had accounted in the most satisfactory mannerfor being found in possession of the dreadnought; took down the name ofthe old clothesman from whom it was hired; and lighting down his nowdischarged prisoner, he declared, with a rueful attempt at smiling, thatit gave him the liveliest gratification on so disagreeable an occasionto have made so very agreeable an acquaintance. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

MISERY ACQUAINTS MR. SCHNACKENBERGER WITH STRANGE BEDFELLOWS. 

When Mr. Schnackenberger returned home from his persecutions, he foundthe door of the Double-barrelled Gun standing wide open: and, as he hadobserved a light in his own room, he walked right up-stairs withoutdisturbing the sleeping waiter. But to his great astonishment, twogigantic fellows were posted outside the door; who, upon his affirmingthat he must be allowed to enter his own room, seemed in some foreignand unintelligible language to support the negative of that proposition. Without further scruple or regard to their menacing gestures, he pressedforwards to the chamber door; but immediately after felt himself laidhold of by the two fellows--one at his legs, the other at his head--and, spite of his most indignant protests, carried down-stairs into the yard. There he was tumbled into a little _dépôt_ for certain four-footedanimals--with whose golden representative he had so recently formed anacquaintance no less intimate;--and, the height of the building notallowing of his standing upright, he was disposed to look back withsorrow to the paradise lost of his station upon the back of the quietanimal whom he had ridden on the preceding day. Even the dungeonappeared an elysium in comparison with his present lodgings, where hefelt the truth of the proverb brought home to him--that it is better tobe alone than in bad company. 

Unfortunately, the door being fastened on the outside, there remainednothing else for him to do than to draw people to the spot by a vehementhowling. But the swine being disturbed by this unusual outcry, and ageneral uproar taking place among the inhabitants of the stye, Mr. Schnackenberger's single voice, suffocated by rage, was over-powered bythe swinish accompaniment. Some little attention was, however, drawn tothe noise amongst those who slept near to the yard: but on the waiter'sassuring them that it was 'only a great pig who would soon be quiet, 'that the key could not be found, and no locksmith was in the way at thattime of night, the remonstrants were obliged to betake themselves to thesame remedy of patience, which by this time seemed to Mr. Jeremiah alsothe sole remedy left to himself. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

WHOSE END RECONCILES OUR HERO WITH ITS BEGINNING. 

Mr. Schnackenberger's howling had (as the waiter predicted) graduallydied away, and he was grimly meditating on his own miseries, to whichhe had now lost all hope of seeing an end before daylight, when thesudden rattling of a key at the yard door awakened flattering hopes inhis breast. It proved to be the waiter, who came to make a gaoldelivery--and on letting him out said, 'I am commissioned by thegentlemen to secure your silence;' at the same time putting into hishand a piece of gold. 

'The d----l take your gold!' said Mr. Schnackenberger: 'is this thepractice at your house--first to abuse your guests, and then have theaudacity to offer them money?'

'Lord, protect us!' said the waiter, now examining his face, 'is it you?but who would ever have looked for you in such a dress as this? Thegentlemen took you for one of the police. Lord! to think what a troubleyou'll have had!'

And it now came out, that a party of foreigners had pitched upon Mr. Jeremiah's room as a convenient one for playing at hazard and some otherforbidden games; and to prevent all disturbance from the police, hadposted their servants, who spoke not a word of German, as sentinels atthe door. 

'But how came you to let my room for such a purpose?'

'Because we never expected to see you to-night; we had heard that thegentleman in the dreadnought had been taken up at the theatre, andcommitted. But the gentlemen are all gone now; and the room's quite atyour service. '

Mr. Schnackenberger, however, who had lost the first part of the night'ssleep from suffering, was destined to lose the second from pleasure: forthe waiter now put into his hands the following billet: 'No doubt youmust have waited for me to no purpose in the passages of the theatre:but alas! our firmest resolutions we have it not always in our power toexecute; and on this occasion, I found it quite impossible consistentlywith decorum to separate myself from my attendants. Will you thereforeattend the hunt to-morrow morning? there I hope a better opportunitywill offer. '

It added to his happiness on this occasion that the princess hadmanifestly not detected him as the man in the dreadnought. 

CHAPTER XX. 

IN WHICH MR. SCHNACKENBERGER ACTS UPON THE AMBITIOUS FEELINGS OF A MANIN OFFICE FOR AN AMIABLE PURPOSE. 

Next morning, when the Provost-marshal came to fetch back theappointments of the military wig-maker, it struck our good-naturedstudent that he had very probably brought the poor fellow into anunpleasant scrape. He felt, therefore, called upon as a gentleman, towait upon the Mayor, and do his best to beg him off. In fact, he arrivedjust in time: for all the arrangements were complete for demonstratingto the poor wig-maker, by an _à posteriori_ line of argument, theimportance of valour in his new employment. 

Mr. Schnackenberger entreated the Mayor to be lenient: courage, he said, was not every man's business: as a wig-maker, the prisoner could havehad little practice in that virtue: the best of wigs were often made bycowards: 'and even as a soldier, ' said he, 'it's odds if there should besuch another alarm for the next hundred years. ' But all in vain: hisjudge was too much incensed: 'Such a scandalous dereliction of duty!'said he; 'No, no: I must make an example of him. '

Hereupon, Mr. Jeremiah observed, that wig-makers were not the onlypeople who sometimes failed in the point of courage: 'Nay, ' said he, 'Ihave known even mayors who by no means shone in that department of duty:and in particular, I am acquainted with some who would look exceedinglyblue, aye d----lish blue indeed, if a student whom I have the honour toknow should take it into his head to bring before the public a littleincident in which they figured, embellished with wood-cuts, representinga retreat by forced marches towards a bell in the background. '

Mr. Mayor changed colour; and pausing a little to think, at length hesaid--'Sir, you are in the right; every man has his weak moments. Butit would be unhandsome to expose them to the scoffs of the public. '

'Why, yes, upon certain conditions. '

'Which conditions I comply with, ' said his worship; and forthwith hecommuted the punishment for a reprimand and a short confinement. 

On these terms Mr. Schnackenberger assured him of his entire silencewith respect to all that had passed. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

IN WHICH THE HOPES OF TWO LOVERS ARE WRECKED AT ONCE. 

'Beg your pardon, Sir, are you Mr. Schnackenberger?' said a young man toour hero, as he was riding out of the city gate. 

'Yes, Sir, I'm the man; what would you have with me?' and, at the sametime looking earnestly at him, he remembered his face amongst thefootmen on the birth-night. 

'At the Forester's house--about eleven o'clock, ' whispered the manmysteriously. 

'Very good, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, nodding significantly; andforthwith, upon the wings of rapturous anticipation, he flew to theplace of rendezvous. 

On riding into the Forester's court-yard, among several other opencarriages, he observed one lined with celestial blue, which, with astrange grossness of taste, exhibited upon the cushions a medley ofhams, sausages, &c. On entering the house, he was at no loss to discoverthe owner of the carriage; for in a window-seat of the bar sate thelandlady of the Golden Sow, no longer in widow's weeds, but arrayed incolours brighter than a bed of tulips. 

Mr. Schnackenberger was congratulating himself on his quarrel with her, which he flattered himself must preclude all amicable intercourse, whenshe saw him, and to his horror approached with a smiling countenance. Some overtures towards reconciliation he saw were in the wind: but, asthese could not be listened to except on one condition, he determined tomeet her with a test question: accordingly, as she drew near, simperingand languishing, 'Have you executed?' said he abruptly, 'Have you executed?'

'Have I what?' said Mrs. Sweetbread. 

'Executed? Have you executed the release?'

'Oh! you bad man! But come now: I know----'

At this moment, however, up came some acquaintances of Mrs. Sweetbread's, who had ridden out to see the hunt; and, whilst herattention was for one moment drawn off to them, Mr. Schnackenbergerslipped unobserved into a parlour: it was now half-past ten by theForester's clock; and he resolved to wait here until the time fixed bythe princess. Whilst sitting in this situation, he heard in an adjoiningroom (separated only by a slight partition) his own name often repeated:the voice was that of Mr. Von Pilsen; loud laughter followed everysentence; and on attending more closely, Mr. Schnackenberger perceivedthat he was just terminating an account of his own adventures at theGolden Sow, and of his consequent embroilment with the amorous landlady. All this, however, our student would have borne with equanimity. Butnext followed a disclosure which mortified his vanity in the uttermostdegree. A few words sufficed to unfold to him that Mr. Von Pilsen, inconcert with the waiter of the Double-barrelled Gun and that youngfemale attendant of the princess, whose kitten had been persecuted byJuno, had framed the whole plot, and had written the letters which Mr. Schnackenberger had ascribed to her Highness. He had scarce patience tohear out the remainder. In some way or other, Von Pilsen had so farmistaken our hero, as to pronounce him 'chicken-hearted:' and upon thisground, he invited his whole audience to an evening party at the publicrooms of the Double-barrelled Gun--where he promised to play off Mr. Schnackenberger as a glorious exhibition for this night only. 

Furious with wrath, and moreover anxious to escape before Von Pilsen andhis party should see him, and know that this last forgery no less thanthe others had succeeded in duping him into a punctual observance of theappointment, Mr. Schnackenberger rushed out of the room, seized hishorse's bridle--and was just on the point of mounting, when up came hisfemale tormentor, Mrs. Sweetbread. 

'Come, come, now, ' said she, smiling in her most amiable manner; 'wewere both under a mistake yesterday morning: and both of us were toohasty. The booby of a lad took you to the Gun, when you wanted nothingbut the Sow: you were a little "fresh, " and didn't know it; and Ithought you did it on purpose. But I know better now. And here I am tofetch you back to the Sow: so come along: and we'll forget and forgiveon both sides. '

So saying, she would have taken his arm most lovingly: but Mr. Schnackenberger stoutly refused. He had nothing to do with her but topay his bill; he wanted nothing of her but his back-sword, which he hadleft at the Sow; and he made a motion towards his stirrup. But Mrs. Sweetbread laid her hand upon his arm, and asked him tenderly--if herperson were then so utterly disgusting to him that, upon thus meetinghim again by his own appointment, he had at once forgotten all hisproposals?

'Proposals! what proposals?' shrieked the persecuted student;'Appointment! what appointment?'

'Oh, you base, low-lived villain! don't you go for to deny it, now:didn't you offer to be reconciled? didn't you bid me to come here, thatwe might settle all quietly in the forest? Aye, and we _will_ settle it:and nothing shall ever part us more; nothing in the world; for what Godhas joined----'

'Drunken old witch!' interrupted Mr. Jeremiah, now sufficientlyadmonished by the brandy fumes which assailed him as to the proximatecause of Mrs. Sweetbread's boldness; 'seek lovers elsewhere. ' Andhastily turning round to shake her off, he perceived to his horror thatan immense crowd had by this time assembled behind them. In the rear, and standing upon the steps of the Forester's house, stood Von Pilsenand his party, convulsed with laughter; immediately below them was thewhole body of the hunters, who had called here for refreshment--uponwhose faces struggled a mixed expression of merriment and wonder: and atthe head of the whole company stood a party of butchers and butchers'boys returning from the hunt, whose fierce looks and gestures made itevident that they sympathized with the wrongs of Mrs. Sweetbread, therelict of a man who had done honour to their body--and were prepared toavenge them in any way she might choose. She, meantime, whose wholemighty love was converted into mighty hatred by the opprobrious wordsand fierce repulse of Mr. Schnackenberger, called heaven and earth, andall present, to witness her wrongs; protested that he had himselfappointed the meeting at the Forest-house; and in confirmation drewforth a letter. 

At sight of the letter, a rattling peal of laughter from Mr. Von Pilsenleft no room to doubt, in our student's mind, from whose wittymanufactory it issued; and a rattling peal of wrath from the butchers'boys left no room to doubt in anybody's mind what would be itsconsequences. The letter was, in fact, pretty much what Mrs. Sweetbreadalleged: it contained a large and unlimited offer of Mr. Schnackenberger's large and unlimited person; professed an ardour ofpassion which could brook no delay; and entreated her to grant him aninterview for the final arrangement of all preliminaries at theForest-house. 

Whilst this letter was reading, Mr. Schnackenberger perceived that therewas no time to be lost: no Juno, unfortunately, was present, no 'deus exmachinâ' to turn the scale of battle, which would obviously be toounequal, and in any result (considering the quality of the assailants)not very glorious. So, watching his opportunity, he vaulted into hissaddle, and shot off like an arrow. Up went the roar of laughter fromVon Pilsen and the hunters: up went the roar of fury from the butchersand their boys: in the twinkling of an eye all were giving chase;showers of stones sang through the trees; threats of vengeance were inhis ears; butchers' dogs were at his horse's heels; butchers' curseswere on the wind; a widow's cries hung upon his flight. The huntersjoined in the pursuit; a second chase was before them; Mr. Pilsen hadfurnished them a second game. Again did Mr. Schnackenberger perspireexceedingly; once again did Mr. Schnackenberger 'funk' enormously; yet, once again did Mr. Schnackenberger shiver at the remembrance of theGolden Sow, and groan at the name of Sweetbread. He retained, however, presence of mind enough to work away at his spurs incessantly; nor everonce turned his head until he reached the city gates, which he enteredat the _pas de charge_, thanking heaven that he was better mounted thanon his first arrival at B----. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS. 

Rapidly as Mr. Schnackenberger drove through the gates, he was arrestedby the voice of the warder, who cited him to instant attendance at thetown-hall. Within the memory of man, this was the first time that anybusiness had been transacted on a holiday; an extraordinary sitting wasnow being held; and the prisoner under examination was----Juno. 'Oh!heaven and its mercies! when will my afflictions cease?' said theexhausted student; 'when shall I have a respite?' Respite there could benone at present; for the case was urgent; and, unless Juno could findgood bail, she was certain of being committed on three very seriouscharges of 1. Trespass; 2. Assault and battery; 3. Stealing in adwelling-house. The case was briefly this: Juno had opened sodetestable an overture of howling on her master's departure for theforest, that the people at the Double-barrelled Gun, out of mereconsideration for the city of B----, had found it necessary to set herat liberty; whereupon, as if the devil drove her, forthwith the brutehad gone off in search of her old young enemy the kitten, at the hotelof the princess. She beat up the kitten's quarters again; and again shedrove in the enemy pell-mell into her camp in the kitchen. The youngmistress of the kitten, out of her wits at seeing her darling's danger, had set down a pail of milk, in which she was washing a Brussels' veiland a quantity of Mechlin lace belonging to the princess--and hurriedher kitten into a closet. In a moment she returned, and found--milk, Brussels' veil, Mechlin lace, vanished--evaporated into Juno's throat, 'abiit--evasit--excessit--erupit!' only the milk-pail, upon somepunctilio of delicacy in Juno, was still there; and Juno herself stoodby, complacently licking her milky lips, and expressing a livelysatisfaction with the texture of Flanders' manufactures. The princess, vexed at these outrages on her establishment, sent a message to thetown-council, desiring that banishment for life might be inflicted on adog of such revolutionary principles, whose presence (as she understood)had raised a general consternation throughout the city of B----. 

Mr. Mayor, however, had not forgotten the threatened report of a certainretreat to a bell, illustrated by wood-cuts; and therefore, afterassuring her Highness of his readiness to serve her, he added, thatmeasures would be adopted to prevent similar aggressions--but thatunhappily, from peculiar circumstances connected with this case, nofurther severities could be inflicted. Meantime, while this note waswriting, Juno had contrived to liberate herself from arrest. 

Scarce had she been absent three minutes, when in rushed to thetown-council the eternal enemy of the Mayor--Mr. Deputy Recorder. Thelarge goose's liver, the largest, perhaps, that for some centuries hadbeen bred and born in B----, and which was destined this very night tohave solemnised the anniversary of Mrs. Deputy Recorder's birth; thisliver, and no other, had been piratically attacked, boarded, andcaptured, in the very sanctuary of the kitchen, 'by that flibustier(said he) that buccaneer--that Paul Jones of a Juno. ' Dashing the tearsfrom his eyes, Mr. Deputy Recorder went on to perorate; 'I ask, ' saidhe, 'whether such a Kentucky marauder ought not to be outlawed by allnations, and put to the ban of civilised Europe? If not'--and then Mr. Deputy paused for effect, and struck the table with his fist--'if not, and such principles of Jacobinism and French philosophy are to betolerated; then, I say, there is an end to social order and religion:Sansculotterie, Septemberising, and red night-caps, will flourish overonce happy Europe; and the last and best of kings, and our most shininglights, will follow into the same bottomless abyss, which has alreadyswallowed up (and his voice faltered)--my liver. '

'Lights and liver!' said Mr. Schnackenberger; 'I suppose you mean liverand lights; but, lord! Mr. Recorder, what a bilious view you take of thecase! Your liver weighs too much in this matter; and where that happens, a man's judgment is sure to be jaundiced. '

However, the council thought otherwise: Mr. Deputy's speech had produceda deep impression; and, upon his motion, they adjudged that, in twelvehours, Juno should be conducted to the frontiers of the city lands, andthere solemnly outlawed: after which it should be free to all citizensof B---- to pursue her with fire and sword; and even before that period, if she were met without a responsible guide. Mr. Schnackenberger pleadedearnestly for an extension of the armistice; but then arose, for thesecond time, with Catonic severity of aspect, Mr. Deputy Recorder; heurged so powerfully the necessity of uncompromising principle in thesedangerous times, insisted so cogently on the false humanity of misplacedlenity, and wound up the whole by such a pathetic array of the crimescommitted by Juno--of the sausages she had robbed, the rabbits she hadstrangled, the porcelain she had fractured, the raspberry-vinegar shehad spilt, the mutton she had devoted to chops ('her own "chops, "remember, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger), the Brussels' veil, and theMechlin lace, which she had swallowed, the domestic harmony which shehad disturbed, the laws of the land which she had insulted and outraged, the peace of mind which she had invaded, and, finally, (said he) 'as ifall this were not enough, the liver--the goose's liver--_my_ liver--myunoffending liver'--('and lights, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger) 'which shehas burglariously and inhumanly immolated to her brutal propensities:'on all this Mr. Deputy executed such a bravura, and the sins of Junochased each other so rapidly, and assumed so scarlet a hue, that thecouncil instantly negatived her master's proposition; the singledissentient voice being that of Mr. Mayor, who, with tears in his eyes, conjured Mr. Schnackenberger not to confound the innocent with theguilty. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

IN WHICH MISFORTUNE EMPTIES HER LAST VIAL UPON THE HEAD OF MR. SCHNACKENBERGER. 

Exhausted by the misfortunes of the day, towards evening Mr. Jeremiahwas reposing at his length, and smoking in the window-seat of his room. Solemn clouds of smoke expressed the gloomy vapours which rested on hisbrain. The hours of Juno's life, it seemed to him, were numbered; everysoul in B----was her sworn foe--bipeds and quadrupeds, men, women, dogs, cats, children, kittens, deputy-recorders, rabbits, cooks, legs-of-mutton, to say nothing of goose-livers, sausages, haunches ofvenison, and 'quilts. '--If he were to take country-lodgings for her, andto send her out of B----, what awaited her there? Whither could she go, but some butcher--some butterwoman--some rough-rider or other had aprivate account to settle with her?--'Unhappy creature!' ejaculated thestudent, 'torment of my life!'

At this moment Mr. Schnackenberger's anxious ruminations were furtherenforced by the appearance of the town-crier under his window: inert asthe town-council were in giving effect to their own resolutions, on thisoccasion it was clear that they viewed the matter as no joke; and werebent on rigorously following up their sentence. For the crier proclaimedthe decree by beat of drum; explained the provisos of the twelve hours'truce, and enjoined all good citizens, and worthy patriots, at theexpiration of that period, to put the public enemy to the sword, wherever she should be found, and even to rise _en masse_, if thatshould be necessary, for the extermination of the national robber--asthey valued their own private welfare, or the honour and dignity of thestate. 

'English fiend!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, 'will nothing reclaim thee?Now that I am rid of my German plague, must I be martyred by my Englishplague?' For be it mentioned that, on our hero's return from thecouncil, he had received some little comfort in his afflictions fromhearing that Mrs. Sweetbread had, upon her return to B----, testifiedher satisfaction with the zealous leader of the butchers' boys, byforthwith bestowing upon him her widowed hand and heart, together withthe Sow and its appurtenances. 'English fiend!' resumed Mr. Schnackenberger, 'most _e_dacious and _au_dacious of quadrupeds! cannothing be done for thee? Is it impossible to save thy life?' And againhe stopped to ruminate. For her _meta_physics it was hopeless to cure;but could nothing be done for her _physics_? At the university of X----she had lived two years next door neighbour to the Professor of MoralPhilosophy, and had besides attended many of his lectures without anysort of benefit to her morals, which still continued of the very worstdescription. 'But could no course of medical treatment, ' thought hermaster, 'correct her inextinguishable voracity? Could not her pulse belowered? Might not her appetite, or her courage, be tamed? Would acourse of tonics be of service to her? Suppose I were to take her toEngland to try the effect of her native air; would any of the greatEnglish surgeons or physicians be able to prescribe for her effectually?Would opium cure her? Yet there was a case of bulimy at Toulouse, wherethe French surgeons caught the patient and saturated him with opium; butit was of no use; for he ate[26] as many children after it as before. Would Mr. Abernethy, with his blue pill and his Rufus pill, be of anyservice to her? Or the acid bath--or the sulphate of zinc--or the whiteoxide of bismuth?--or soda-water? For, perhaps, her liver may beaffected. But, lord! what talk I of her liver? Her liver's as sound asmine. It's her disposition that's in fault; it's her moral principlesthat are relaxed; and something must be done to brace them. Let meconsider. '

[26] This man, whose case I have read in some French Medical Memoirs, was a desperate fellow: he cared no more for an ounce of opium, than fora stone of beef, or half a bushel of potatoes: all three would not havemade him a breakfast. As to children, he denied in the most tranquilmanner that he ate them. ''Pon my honour, ' he sometimes said, 'betweenourselves, I never _do_ eat children. ' However, it was generally agreed, that he was pædophagous, or infantivorous. Some said that he firstdrowned them; whence I sometimes called him the pædobaptist. Certain itis, that wherever he appeared, a sudden scarcity of childrenprevailed. --_Note of the Translator. _

At this moment a cry of 'murder, murder!' drew the student's eyes tothe street below him; and there, to afflict his heart, stood hisgraceless Juno, having just upset the servant of a cook's shop, in thevery act of rifling her basket; the sound of the drum was yet ringingthrough the streets; the crowd collected to hear it had not yetwithdrawn from the spot; and in this way was Juno expressing herreverence for the proclamation of the town-council of B----. 

'Fiend of perdition!' said Mr. Schnackenberger, flinging his darlingpipe at her head, in the anguish of his wrath, and hastening down toseize her. On arriving below, however, there lay his beautiful sea-foampipe in fragments upon the stones; but Juno had vanished--to reappear nomore in B----. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

AND SET YOU DOWN THAT IN ALEPPO ONCE--OTHELLO. 

The first thing Mr. Schnackenberger did was to draw his purse-strings, and indemnify the cook-maid. The next thing Mr. Schnackenberger did wasto go into the public-room of the Gun, call for a common pipe, and seathimself growling in a corner. --Of all possible privileges conferred bythe laws, the very least desirable is that of being created game: Junowas now invested with that 'painful pre-eminence;' she was solemnlyproclaimed game: and all qualified persons, _i. E. _ every man, woman, and child, were legally authorised to sink--burn--or destroy her. 'Nowthen, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger to himself, 'if such an event shouldhappen--if any kind soul should blow out the frail light of Juno's life, in what way am I to answer the matter to her purchaser, Mr. FabianSebastian?' Such were the thoughts which fumed away from the anxiousmind of Mr. Schnackenberger in surging volumes of smoke. 

Together with the usual evening visitors of the public-rooms at the Gun, were present also Mr. Von Pilsen, and his party. Inflamed with wine andinsolence, Mr. Von Pilsen began by advancing the following proposition:That in this sublunary world there are marvellous fools. 'Upon thishint' he spake: and 'improving' his text into a large commentary, hepassed in review various sketches from the life of Mr. Schnackenbergerin B----, not forgetting the hunting scene; and everywhere threw in suchrich embellishments and artist-like touches, that at last the room rangwith laughter. 

Mr. Jeremiah alone sat moodily in his corner, and moved no muscle of hisface; so that even those, who were previously unacquainted with thecircumstances, easily divined at whose expense Mr. Von Pilsen's wittyperformance proceeded. 

At length Von Pilsen rose and said, 'Gentlemen, you think, perhaps, that I am this day in the best of all possible humours. Quite thecontrary, I assure you: pure fiction--mere counterfeit mirth--put on todisguise my private vexation; for vexed I am, and will be, that I canfind nobody on whom to exercise my right arm. Ah! what a heavenly fatewere mine, if any man would take it into his head to affront me; or ifany other man would take it into his head to think that I had affrontedhim, and would come hither to demand satisfaction!' So saying, heplanted himself in a chair in the very middle of the saloon; and everand anon leered at Mr. Schnackenberger in so singular a manner, that noone could fail to see at whom his shafts were pointed. 

Still it seemed as if our hero had neither ears nor eyes. For hecontinued doggedly to work away at his 'cloud-compelling' pipe ([Greek:nephelêgereta Schnakenberger]), without ever looking at his challenger. 

When at length he rose, everybody supposed that probably he had hadbadgering enough by this time, and meant to decamp quietly. All presentwere making wry faces, in order to check their bursting laughter, untilMr. Schnackenberger were clear of the room; that done, each prepared togive free vent to his mirth and high compliments to Mr. Von Pilsen, uponthe fine style in which he had 'done execution upon Cawdor. '_De_camping, however, entered not into Mr. Schnackenberger's militaryplans; he rather meant to _en_camp over against Von Pilsen's position:calmly, therefore, with a leisurely motion, and _gradu militari_, did headvance towards his witty antagonist. The latter looked somewhat palerthan usual: but, as this was no time for retreating, and he saw thenecessity of conducting the play with spirit to its _dénouement_, --hestarted up, and exclaimed: 'Ah! here is the very man I was wishing for!framed after my very heart's longing. Come, dear friend, embrace me: letus have a fraternal hug. '

'Basta!' cried Mr. Jeremiah, attaching his shoulder, and squeezing him, with a right hand of 'high pressure, ' down into his chair--'This is avery good story, Mr. Von Pilsen, that you have told us: and pity it werethat so good a story should want a proper termination. In future, therefore, my Pilsen, When you shall these unhappy deeds relate, be sure you do not forget the little sequel which I shall furnish: tell itto the end, my Pilsen:

 And set you down that in Aleppo once--'

Here the whole company began to quake with the laughter of anticipation--

 'And set you down that in Aleppo once--

when a fribble--a coxcomb--a puppy dared to traduce a student from theuniversity of X----

 I took the circumcised dog by the nose, And smote him thus----'

at the same time breaking his pipe calmly on the very prominent nose of Mr. Von Pilsen. 

Inextinguishable laughter followed from all present: Mr. Von Pilsen quittedthe room forthwith: and next morning was sought for in vain in B----. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

WHICH CONTAINS A DUEL--AND A DEATH. 

Scarcely had Mr. Schnackenberger withdrawn to his apartment, when a pair of'field-pieces' were heard clattering up-stairs--such and so mighty as, amongall people that on earth do dwell, no mortal wore, himself only except, andthe student, Mr. Fabian Sebastian. Little had he thought under his eveningcanopy of smoke, that Nemesis was treading so closely upon his heels. 

'Sir, my brother, ' began Mr. Student Fabian, 'the time is up: and here am I, to claim my rights. Where is the dog? The money is ready: deliver thearticle: and payment shall be made. '

Mr. Schnackenberger shrugged his shoulders. 

'Nay, my brother, no jesting (if you please) on such serious occasions: Idemand my article. '

'What, if the article have vanished?'

'Vanished!' said Mr. Fabian; 'why then we must fight, until it comes backagain. --Sir, my brother, you have acted nefariously enough in abscondingwith goods that you had sold: would you proceed to yet greater depths innefariousness, by now withholding from me my own article?'

So saying, Mr. Fabian paid down the purchase money in hard gold upon thetable. 'Come, now, be easy, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, 'and hear me. '

'Be easy, do you say? _That_ will I not: but hear I will, and with all myheart, provided it be nothing unhearable--nor anything in question of myright to the article: else, you know, come knocks. ' 'Knocks!' said Jeremiah:'and since when, I should be glad to know, has the Schnackenberger been inthe habit of taking knocks without knocking again, and paying a pretty largeper centage?'

'Ah! very likely. That's your concern. As to me, I speak only for myself andfor my article. ' Hereupon Mr. Schnackenberger made him acquainted with thecircumstances, which were so unpalatable to the purchaser of 'the article, 'that he challenged Mr. Schnackenberger to single combat there and then. 

'Come, ' said Mr. Fabian; 'but first put up the purchase money: for I, atleast, will practise nothing that is nefarious. '

Mr. Schnackenberger did so; redeemed his sword from Mrs. Sweetbread bysettling her bill; buckled it on; and attended Mr. Fabian to theneighbouring forest. 

Being arrived at a spot suitable to their purpose, and their swords drawn, Mr. Schnackenberger said--'Upon my word it's a shocking thing that we mustfight upon this argument: not but it's just what I have long expected. Junonian quarrels I have had, in my time, 747; and a Junonian duel isnothing more than I have foreseen for this last week. Yet, after all, brother, I give you my honour that the brute is not worth a duel: for, foolsas we have been in our rivalship about her, between ourselves she is a mereagent of the fiend, and minister of perdition, to him who is so unhappy asto call her his. '

'Like enough, my brother; haven't a doubt you're in the right, for you knowher best: still it would be nefarious in a high degree if our blades were topart without crossing each other. We must tilt a bit: Sir, my brother, wemust tilt. So lunge away at me; and never fear but I'll lunge as fast asyou. '

So said--so done: but scarce had Mr. Sebastian pushed his first 'carte overthe arm, ' which was well parried by his antagonist, when, with a loudoutcry, in rushed Juno; and, without troubling herself about the drawnswords, she drove right at the pit of Mr. Sebastian's stomach, knocked thebreath out of his body, the sword out of his hand, and himself upon hisback. 

'Ah! my goddess, my Juno!' cried Mr. Schnackenberger; 'Nec vox hominemsonat, oh Dea certe!'

'Nec vox hominem sonat?' said Mr. Fabian, rising: 'Faith, you're rightthere; for I never heard a voice more like a brute's in my life. '

'Down then, down, Juno, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, as Juno was preparing fora second campaign against Mr. Fabian's stomach: Mr. Fabian, on his part, held out his hand to his brother student--saying, 'all quarrels are nowended. ' Mr. Jeremiah accepted his hand cordially. Mr. Fabian offered toresign 'the article, ' however agitating to his feelings. Mr. Jeremiah, though no less agitated, protested he should not. 'I will, by all that'smagnanimous, ' said Mr. Fabian. 'By the memory of Curtius, or whatever elseis most sacred in self-sacrifice, you shall not, ' said Mr. Jeremiah. 'Hearme, thou light of day, ' said Mr. Fabian kneeling. 'Hear _me_, ' interruptedMr. Jeremiah, kneeling also: yes, the Schnackenberger knelt, but carefullyand by circumstantial degree; for he was big and heavy as a rhinoceros, andafraid of capsizing, and perspired freely. Mr. Fabian kneeled like adactyle: Mr. Jeremiah kneeled like a spondee, or rather like a molossus. Juno, meantime, whose feelings were less affected, did not kneel at all;but, like a tribrach, amused herself with chasing a hare which just thencrossed one of the forest ridings. A moment after was heard the report of afowling-piece. Bitter presentiment of the truth caused the kneeling dueliststo turn their heads at the same instant. Alas! the subject of theirhigh-wrought contest was no more: English Juno lay stretched in her blood!Up started the 'dactyle;' up started the 'spondee;' out flew their swords;curses, dactylic and spondaic, began to roll; and the gemini of theuniversity of X, side by side, strode after the Junonicide, who proved to bea forester. The forester wisely retreated, before the storm, into hiscottage; from an upper window of which he read to the two coroners, in thisinquest after blood, a section of the forest-laws, which so fully justifiedwhat he had done--that, like the reading of the English riot act, itdispersed the gemini, both dactylic and spondaic, who now held it advisableto pursue the matter no further. 

'Sir, my brother, ' said Mr. Fabian, embracing his friend over the corpse ofJuno, 'see what comes of our imitating Kotzebue's plays! Nothing but ournefarious magnanimity was the cause of Juno's untimely end. For had we, instead of kneeling (which by the way seemed to "punish" you a good deal), had we, I say, vested the property in one or other of us, she, instead ofdiverting her ennui by hunting, would have been trotting home by the side ofher master--and the article would have been still living. '

CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE FUNERAL GAMES. 

'Now then, ' said Mr. Schnackenberger, entering the Double-barrelled Gun withhis friend, --'Now, waiter, let us have Rhenish and Champagne, and all othergood things with which your Gun is charged: fire off both barrels upon us:Come, you dog, make ready--present; for we solemnise a funeral to-day:' and, at the same time, he flung down the purchase-money of Juno upon the table. The waiter hastened to obey his orders. 

The longer the two masters of Juno drank together, the more did theyconvince themselves that her death was a real blessing to herself, who hadthus obviously escaped a life of severe cudgelling, which her voracity wouldhave entailed upon her: 'yes, ' they both exclaimed; 'a blessing toherself--to her friends in particular--and to the public in general. '

To conclude, the price of Juno was honourably drunk up to the last farthing, in celebration of her obsequies at this one sitting. 

[Greek: Hôs hoi g'amphiepon taphon Hektoros hippodamoio. ]

END OF 'MR. SCHNACKENBERGER. '

ANGLO-GERMAN DICTIONARIES. 

The German dictionaries, compiled for the use of Englishmen studying thatlanguage, are all bad enough, I doubt not, even in this year 1823; but thoseof a century back are the most ludicrous books that ever mortal read:_read_, I say, for they are well worth reading, being often as good as ajest book. In some instances, I am convinced that the compilers (Germansliving in Germany) had a downright hoax put upon them by some facetiousBriton whom they had consulted; what is given as the English equivalent forthe German word being not seldom a pure coinage that never had any existenceout of Germany. Other instances there are, in which the words, though not offoreign manufacture, are almost as useless to the English student as if theywere; slang-words, I mean, from the slang vocabulary, current about thelatter end of the seventeenth century. These must have been laboriouslyculled from the works of Tom Brown, Sir Roger L'Estrange, Echard, JeremyCollier, and others, from 1660 to 1700, who were the great masters of this_vernacular_ English (as it might emphatically be called, with a referenceto the primary[27] meaning of the word _vernacular_): and I verily believe, that, if any part of this slang has become, or ever should become a deadlanguage to the English critic, his best guide to the recovery of its truemeaning will be the German dictionaries of Bailey, Arnold, &c. In theirearliest editions. By one of these, the word _Potztausend_ (a common Germanoath) is translated, to the best of my remembrance, thus:--'Udzooks, Udswiggers, Udswoggers, Bublikins, Boblikins, Splitterkins, ' &c. And so on, with a large choice of other elegant varieties. Here, I take it, our friendthe hoaxer had been at work: but the drollest example I have met with oftheir slang is in the following story told to me by Mr. Coleridge. About theyear 1794, a German, recently imported into Bristol, had happened to hear ofMrs. X. , a wealthy widow. He thought it would be a good speculation to offerhimself to the lady's notice as well qualified to 'succeed' to the late Mr. X. ; and accordingly waited on the lady with that intention. Having no greatfamiliarity with English, he provided himself with a copy of one of thedictionaries I have mentioned; and, on being announced to the lady, hedetermined to open his proposal with this introductory sentence--Madam, having heard that Mr. X. , late your husband, is dead: but coming to the lastword 'gestorben' (dead), he was at a loss for the English equivalent; so, hastily pulling out his dictionary (a huge 8vo. ), he turned to the word'sterben, ' (to die), --and there found----; but what he found will be bestcollected from the dialogue which followed, as reported by the lady:--

_German. _ Madam, hahfing heard that Mein Herr X. , late your man, is----(these words he kept chiming over as if to himself, until he arrivedat No. 1 of the interpretations of 'sterben, '--when he roared out, in highglee at his discovery)----is, dat is--has, _kicked de bucket_. 

_Widow. _ (With astonishment. )--'Kicked the bucket, ' Sir!--what--

_German. _ Ah! mein Gott!--Alway Ich make mistake: I vou'd havesaid--(beginning again with the same solemnity of tone)--since dat Mein HerrX. , late your man, hav--_hopped de twig_--(which words he screamed out withdelight, certain that he had now hit the nail upon the head). 

_Widow. _ Upon my word, Sir, I am at a loss to understand you: 'Kicked thebucket, ' and 'hopped the twig----!'

_German. _ (Perspiring with panic. ) Ah, Madam! von--two--tree--ten tousandpardon: vat sad, wicket dictionary I haaf, dat alway bring me in trouble:but now you shall hear--(and then, recomposing himself solemnly for a thirdeffort, he began as before)--Madam, since I did hear, or wash hearing, datMein Herr X. , late your man, haaf--(with a triumphant shout) haaf, I say, _gone to Davy's locker_----

[27] What I mean is this. Vernacular (from _verna_, a slave born in hismaster's house). 1. The homely idiomatic language in opposition to any mixedjargon, or lingua franca, spoken by an imported slave:--2. Hence, generally, the pure mother-tongue as opposed to the same tongue corrupted by falserefinement. By vernacular English, therefore, in the primary sense, and Imean, such homely English as is banished from books and polite conversationto Billingsgate and Wapping. 

Further he would have gone; but the widow could stand no more: this nauticalphrase, familiar to the streets of Bristol, allowed her no longer tomisunderstand his meaning; and she quitted the room in a tumult oflaughter, sending a servant to show her unfortunate suitor out of the house, with his false friend the dictionary; whose help he might, perhaps, invokefor the last time, on making his exit, in the curses--'Udswoggers, Boblikins, Bublikins, Splitterkins!'

N. B. As test words for trying a _modern_ German dictionary, I will advisethe student to look for the words--_Beschwichtigen Kulisse_, and _Mansarde_. The last is originally French, but the first is a true German word; and, ona question arising about its etymology, at the house of a gentleman inEdinburgh, could not be found in any one, out of five or six modernAnglo-German dictionaries. 

 THE END. 

 RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY.