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satisfaction and unwillingness to gratify her. THE WICKED WOODS OF She exacted from him a hundred little marks TOBEREEVIL. of homage, such as May had never looked BY THB AUTHOR OF ** HESTER'S HISTORY.'* for, nor thought of. He became so busy with her, and so tormented by her, that he soon found he had very little time to CHAPTER XXIX. PAUL S TROUBLES BEGIN. attend to his business. He became curiously DAYS passed, and Katherine had domes­ changed in a short space of time, his temper ticated herself thoroughly at Monasterlea. alternating between bursts of anger at him­ She had taken possession of all the best self and her, indulged in generally during things in the house with the most charming the hours of his absence from her side, and goodwill. The prettiest and most com­ unreasoning fits of mirth, which almost in­ fortable furniture had been carried into her variably took possession of him whilst in room, and she had the warmest seat at the her presence, and left bitterness of heart fire and at the table. The little red couch and exhaustion of body when they passed under the black archway in the parlour, away. Avhich was covered with Miss Martha's Meanwhile May stood aside patiently, knitting, and cushioned with pillows stuffed not wondering that the brilliant beauty with down off Miss Martha's own geese, should be found more amusing and attrac­ she had at once made quite her own. She tive than herself. She stifled her heartache, had taken possession of Bridget, so that for was she not sure of Paul's love ? And the handmaiden did little besides attend why need she be jealous, and ungenerous, upon Miss Archbold. The visitor had also and unkind ? Tender trust such as Paul her hostess in thorough subjection, and she felt in her was a. thousand times more Avrought her will pretty freely upon May, precious than the admiration of a mo­ in spite of that young lady's rebellion ment. Therefore she would be tolerant, against the tyranny of her rule. and await, however longingly, the happy But Katherine's attentions were chiefly hour when Katherine should take her Avay devoted to Paul, and to no one else did back to Camlough. But as weeks went she care to be agreeable. All through the by, and Paul's strange unhappiness in­ dark winter days, in the quiet little cot­ creased, all thought of her own pain passed tage, she was restless and troublesome, and away, and keen fear for his welfare caused sorely tried the patience of her enter­ her a misery far more sharp than she had tainers ; but when the evening brought yet suffered. It was but a short time since Paul her mood was sure to change. She he had begged her to save him from any­ took as much pains to amuse May's lover thing that should look to her like^ the be­ as though her life had depended on his ginning of that evil which he believed to being merry. And Paul was glad to be lie in wait for him. And it seemed to her amused, though he did not like Katherine. now that it was time to be up and doing He did not like Katherine, and yet it for his sake. Avas certain that she exercised an extra­ One night the three young people were ordinary influence over his actions. She sitting late over the fire. The keeping of absorbed his attention, in spite of his dis­ late hours made one of the changes Avhich •^

434 [April G, 1872.] ALL THB YEAR ROUND, [Conducted by Katherine had introduced into the house. is a view of the matter which I did not She loved to amuse herself a long way into take before. But then—suppose I turn the night, though the servants grumbled, into a miser, and some bolder kinsman and even Miss Martha was dissatisfied. comes forward and murders me ? It mio-ht The mild old lady had been obliged to be wiser to take the thing into my own yield the point. She might go to bed her­ hands." self when her eyes would not keep open, " Nonsense !" said Katherine. " I forbid but midnight often found the three young you to ruin yourself by anything so silly. heads bent together over the fire. May on Have a little patience, and don't believe in such occasions would be as merry as her bogies. The old man will die, and you guest. She would have laugh for laugh Avill get possession of all the wealth. You and jest for jest with Katherine; and she will leave this mouldy place, and become would not be disheartened even when a great man in England, Avhere taste and she found that Paul would listen to the money are appreciated. You are cultivated stranger, and would give little heed to her. and accomplished. You can have your AVIU " Tell me about TobereeAdl," said Kathe­ of all the good things of the world. You rine to Paul. " I have heard scraps of the may marry the handsomest woman of your history, but I want to know it all. There time—but, oh, I forgot! I beg 'your par­ could not be a better time for an uncom­ don !" and Katharine glanced at May, and fortable story." laughed in make-believe confusion. Paul's face darkened, as he gloomily But May was bravely at her post, and prepared to comply with her request. He out-laughed her. Avent steadily through the whole of the " Go on, please,"she said, blithely. "Go Avild tale, passing from one lean hero to on and finish the story. We must let another amongst his ancestors, till he nothing interfere Avith the hero's grandeur. <1 finished with Simon, the present terror of You must wed him to a princess—unless, p'i the country. indeed, you can find an unmarried queen. pi "Oh, dear!" said Katherine, when he You are bound not to stop until you have m had done. " And you are the next-of-kin. placed him on a throne." ^\ Why the end of it is that you will be the " I am bound to no such thing!" said o richest man in Ireland." Katherine, pettishly. " And he shall not a: " That is it," said Paul; " and there will go on a throne, for kings are wretched r' not be many wealthier elsewhere. I have creatures." tail lately been calculating the old man's wealth. " Well," said May, "that does not prove Think of the accumulation during many that your hero may not be a king. You have hundreds of years!" not done anything for him yet to prevent He said this with his broAV bent and his his being a very Avretched creature. But eyes on the fire, and a look in his face which all I say is this, that I hope he wfll be May had never seen there before. allowed to look after his poor subjects "What is this old man like?" asked in these parts. There is a long account Katherine, who had lost all her levity, and due to them from the forefathers of his become for once grave and earnest. " Is majesty. We will include the settling he very old ? Is he in good health ? Is of this amongst the pleasures you have he likely to die soon ?" mentioned." "That is as may be," said Paul, grimly. Katherine laughed a cynical laugh. " No, " He may live long enough unless some one indeed!" she said, "no such thing! My interfere to help him out of the world be­ hero shall send Tobereevil to the hammer. fore his time. You know it is on the cards He shall fly from this land of beggars and that I, being his kinsman, may do him that of bogs. He shall revel in his inheritance, good office." not squander it for nothing." " But you could never be so silly !" cried "We talk about 'my hero,' and 'my Katherine, eagerly. " You would be pro­ hero,' " said May, smilingly, " but the heir bably found out, and if you did escape of Tobereevil must declare for himself. Let punishment, there would still be a great him speak and say if he will turn his back deal of trouble and unpleasantness. Be­ upon his people." sides, if you are of a superstitious turn of Both bright pairs of eyes were turned on mind, as I strongly suspect you to be, it Paul, May's with more eagerness and might interfere with the enjoyment of your anxiety lurking in them than their owner happiness." cared that they should betray. Paul gi'ew " That is true," said Paul, dryly. "It troubled and embarrassed under their gaze. Charles Dickeus.] THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL. [Apni e, 1872.] 485 " I don't know," he said; " I am not pre­ while May became like some pale spirit pared to declare. But I am not sure that hovering on the threshold of this dwelling the wisest plan for the future master of which had been her own, and kept aloof Tobereevil Avould not be to get rid of the by the demons that had driven her out. Avhole thing, and leave the curse and the It had taken three strange months to woods to rot or flourish as they please." bring things to this point, and one bleak May grcAV pale, but she answered readily, day in March Katherine took a fancy to before Katherine had time to speak. walk out by herself, away from Monas­ " Well, there will be time enough to terlea, and towards the Woods of Tobe­ decide when the right moment comes. In reevil. It was a gray morning, Avith a the meanwhile, is it not time that this cold and scathing wind, but Katherine meeting should break up ?" was healthy and strong, and clad so as to And the meeting did break up. Kathe­ defy the bitter weather. She was all rine had achieved triumph enough to last wrapped up in furs, and carried a gay hat her for one night, and went singing down and feathers upon her head. As she the cloisters to her chamber. She sang walked along the road people curtsied to her light song Avhile she unbound her her, and looked after her, for her beauty golden hair and put off her jewels, and her shone dazzlingly in the chill of the colour­ laces, and her gown ot glittering silk. And less day. she fell asleep, smiling, and dreamt that It seemed to amuse her to be out thus May Avas weeping at her door, but she alone, and on an errand of her own, for she would not let her in. Yet May was not laughed pleasantly to herself as she went Aveeping; only lying awake in pain, with along. She sometimes looked behind her, Avide - open eyes, and fiercely - throbbing but she did not stop at all till she had heart; for tears could not save Paul, how­ come to the entrance of the Tobereevil ever strength and courage might. Woods. Then she stood still and gazed All the courage was needed, and needed at them. Katherine Archbold had not the yet more urgently as days and weeks went least share of superstition or of poetry in on. The change in Paul became more her nature, yet her mind as she gazed at marked, and Katherine's subtle power the trees was filled with the recollection gathered closer round him, while her of the story of their origin. But she had cunning boldness kept him further out of no shudder for the cruelty of the whole­ the reach of May's wholesome influence. sale murder that had driven their roots into Her conversation ran upon money and the soil. She was not troubled about freez­ poAver, upon the folly of a man's not en­ ing mothers and babes, and famished men. joying whatever he could touch, upon the She thought only of the success of these uselessness of so - called benevolent en­ strong woods which had so forced their roots deavours to do good to one's fellow- into the sad reluctant land, covering many creatures, and every hour Paul showed a a mile with their mighty limbs. She had more restless impatience to possess the in­ a vast admiration for anything that had heritance which the miser had promised triumphed, and she gloried in the triumph should be his. His temper Avas altered; of the trees. every flickering shadow had become a Having gazed her fill at them, she dived sombre cloud, every gleam of his old good in amongst them, walking over the meek humour appeared only under the guise of primroses, and never seeing the young a feverish hilarity. Katherine amused violets. She plunged into the thickets, him with stories of the gay world where and amused herself by forcing her way people did what they pleased without through the underwood, fighting with trouble about duty, and in perfect freedom stubborn branches that barred her way, from the thraldom of what stupid people dehghted when she could break them and call conscience. She showed him that life trample them under foot. The trees in such a dreary corner of the world as thrust her back, but she had her Avay, this was no better than that of the mole in in spite of them, conveying herself into the earth, that gaiety, and excitement, and certain of their fastnesses, where human luxury were the only things that made ex­ footstep seldom made its way. She found istence worth having. And when Kathe­ a pillared chamber of gloom, where the sun rine talked she drove out the devil of could never shine, and by the gradual gloom that tormented his soul; but only spread of Avhose impenetrable roof the that when she had ceased seven others faithful hght of the stars had been one by might enter in and take possession of it: j one put out. Perpetual darkness reigned •••**»»*

436 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by in this spot, and there was also a ceaseless bound to get my Avill whosomedever lends sound of disturbance, for the roar of sway­ me a hand." ing miles of wood surged above and below " Come," said Katherine, "this is interest- in continual thunder. Even the mildest airs ing. My dear wise woman, I thank you of heaven seemed to have secret stings, for your compliments, and I am delighted which goaded the Tobereevil Woods un­ to make your acquaintance. You thouo-ht ceasingly into motion and sound. The dark­ you had something good, and you find you ness and confusion were very awful in this have something naughty ; so you become solitary dungeon which the trees had made quite friendly and tell me your secrets. for themselves. It seemed like a meeting- Nothing could please me more. It gives me place for evil spirits. Katherine approved intense pleasure to meet with people who of it, and, in order to enjoy herself, took intend to have their will. And Avho is your her seat on a fallen trunk over which she boy Con—and what is he to Simon ?" had stumbled. She knew the story well, but chose to hear it from Tibbie. CHAPTER XXX. TWO CONGENIAL SOULS. " He's my sister's own son, an' Simon's KATHERINE had not been long in this nephew," she said. " An' I've swore an oath uncomfortable spot when she heard a sound on my knees that he shall be master o' which, fearless as she was, caused her a Tobeerevil. There was a will that was momentary shock. To hear a footstep in nearly signed whin Paul Finiston he cut such a place was startling. Yet there was in an' turned us out o' doors. I've been a crackling of the underwood to be de­ years starvin' yonder wid the black-beetles tected through, or rather on the surface of, an' the rats; an' I'm bound to have my the roar of the woods. Her eyes, being rcAvard. I'll get back to his kitchen, an' now used to the darkness, distinguished the I'll put my boy into Paul's shoes. I've outline of a woman's form, which was grop­ been begging on the hills, but it's little I'll ing its way amongst the bushes. Presently think o' that when I've the money-bags in my a scream from the new-comer announced clutches, an' I'm come this ways through the fear at the glimmer of Miss Archbold's woods in hopes o' meetin' somethin' wicked white furs. The figure fell and cowered that 'd help me. There do be devils an' fn on the ground, and Katherine amused her­ bad spirits always livin' in the threes—I'm a self for some minutes with the terror of not afraid o' them if they'd give me a ban'. •Hil' this unknoAvn and silly wretch. Then she But I'm mortial feared o' the angels, for touched the prostrate body with the toe of they might keep me from my will."

#•. her little boot. Katherine looked at the creature Avith " Get up quickly," she said, "Avhoever admiration. Where in all the land could you may be!" she meet with anything so congenial as The creature, an old woman, rcAdved at this hag, Avho had thus avowed a purpose the human voice, and gathered herself which had made them enemies at once? grotesquely into a sitting posture. They "For I," thought Katherine, "have de­ could see each other now, however dimly. termined that Paul Finiston shall be master Katherine looked like some beautiful fairy, of Tobereevil, and I am resolved to have who had chosen for no good end to pay a my will. And this creature is also bent visit to this spot; the other like some Avitch upon forcing fate, so that ber Con shall in her familiar haunt. For the old woman take his place. Yet Ave shall be friends, was ugly, and she was weird. In short, in spite of this little difference." she was Tibbie. " My dear soul," said she, " sit down on "I know ye now!" she cried, " I know this stump and tell me all about it. I am ye now! Ye're Sir John Archbold's anxious to hear your plans. What do you daughter from beyant the mountain. Many mean to do in order to ruin Paul Finiston ?" a time I have heard o' the beauty o' yer "I Avould not tell you,"" said Tibbie, face, an' the hardness o' yer heart. I know " only that I know you are hard-hearted. y^ by y^r hair, for though my eyes is not If I thought you soft an' good, I wouldn't good, I can see the glint o't. I took ye open my lips to ye, not if ye prayed me on for an angel, an' I'm not good company for yer knees. For Paul Finiston's the sort the angels—not till my boy Con's some­ that women likes." way settled to his property. When Simon " But he is a fool," said Katherine, " an gives him his rights, then I'll set my mind impostor, and a beggar, who must be to goodness; but people can't get their Avills turned by the shoulders out of the country." wid the grace o' God about them. An' I'm Tibbie crowed, and clapped her hands

^ 5^ Charles Dickens.] THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREEVIL. [Apni e, i87>.] 437

with delight. "Oh, musha!" she cried; where it'll be found. I'll get somebody to " you have the purty tongue in your head." pluck It for me that'll not know the harm. " How do you mean to do it ?" asked For I tell ye that I am bound to get my Katherine. " Don't be afraid to tell me, for AviU." there is no one within miles of us. Shall Katherine stood looking on, while the old you give him a taste of nightshade, or a creature thus bemoaned herself. little hemlock-tea ?" "There, now," she said, presently, "do "No," said Tibbie, doubtfully, as if the not cry any more. I have a mandrake idea had not startled her, but was familiar myself, and I will give it to you. It will to her mind. " I have thought o' that, an' be no loss to me, for I have everything I thought o't, an' I'll thry another way. I'll want. I hke meeting Avith difficulties, for do it by a charm. An' that's what brought I have power within myself to break them me here to-day. There's roots that does down. If you like to have the mandrake, be growin' in divils' places like this, an' if I will give it to you." ye can catch them, an' keep them, ye may "Like it!" cried Tibbie. "Is it would do anything ye like." I like it, she says ? Oh, wirra, wirra! " Roots !" said Katherine. " And what isn't her ladyship gone mad ? Like to do you do with them ?" have the mandrake ! Like to get my will! " Some needs wan doin', an' some an­ An' they said ye were hard-hearted. Then other," said Tibbie. " The best of all is a it's soft-hearted ye are, an' I was a fool to mandhrake, for that's a divil in itsel'. It be talkin' to ye. Give away yer luck to looks like a little man, and ye hang it up wan like me ! If I had it I'd see ye die in a corner, where it can see ye walkin' afore I'd give it to ye." about. So long as you threat it well " Oh, very well," said Katherine, turn­ it'll bring ye the luck o' the world. I ing away. " Of course, if you don't want go sarchin' through every bad place in the it, I can give it to some one else." woods, and on the mountains, turnin' up the Tibbie uttered a cry. She fell on the stones, and glowerin' under the bushes, ground, and laid hold of Katherine's gown. hopin' to find a mandhrake that'll do my " Ladyship, ladyship !" she said. " I will. If I can find him, oh, honey ! won't meant no harm. It's on'y amazed I was, I make my own o' the miser ? I'll make an' I ax yer honour's pardon. Give me the keys dance out o' his pockets, and up the mandhrake, an' ye may put yer foot the money-bags dance out o' the holes on me, an' walk on me. I'll do anythin' he has hid them in, an' the goold jump out in the Avorld for ye when I have a divil to o' the bags into Tibbie's pockets. I'll do my will. Ladyship, ladyship, give me make him burn the will that has Paul in it, the mandhrake !" an' write out another that'll put Con in his "There, then," said Katherine, "I pro­ place. I'll have all my own A\'ay; an' the mise that you shall have it; and if ever I ould villain may break his heart and die should want anything of you I expect you widout me needin' to lift a band against to be friendly. Stay, there is one thing 1 him." should like—to see the house of Tobereevil. "Capital," cried Katherine ; "but where Bring me there, noAV, and you shall have will you find the mandrake ? Are you the mandrake to-morrow. I don't want to sure that it groAVS in this country at all ? see the miser; only his den." And suppose it does, don't you know that "Well," said Tibbie, Avho had now got to suit your purpose it must spring from a on her feet, and recovered her self-posses­ murderer's grave ? Then, even when it is sion, " if you can creep, an' hould yer found, there is danger in getting possession tongue, an' if yer shoes don't squeak, I'll of it. It screams when its root is torn take ye through the place. There's little from the earth, and the shriek kills the worth seein' for a lady like yersel', but person who plucks it." come wid me if you like it. On'y don't Tibbie's face fell as she listened. " You're blame Tibbie if Simon finds ye out." larnder nor me," she said. " An' are ye "Leave that to me," said Katherine, " I'm tellin' methethruth?" not afraid of Simon." "Certainly, the truth," said Katherine. Tibbie clasped her hands and rocked Tibbie lifted up her voice and howled herself with delight, " That's the man­ with disappointment. "Everythin's agin dhrake," she muttered. " There's nobody me," she said, rocking herself dismally. can gainsay her wid the mandhrake undher "But I'm not goin' to be baffled. I'll her thumb ; an to-morrow it'll be Tibbie's." cross the says if ye'll tell me the counthry So these new friends set to work to X •««»494>A

f^. 488 [April 6,1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

extricate themselves from the prison of ants of the scene are comprehensively de­ trees in which they had taken pains to scribed as les choristes. In this way the immure themselves. They groped, and pedigree of the " super" gains something pushed, and fought, until they made their of nobility, and may, perhaps, be traced Avay out into the more open woods where back to the chorus of the antique drama, a air and moisture were found plentiful body charged with most momentous duties enough, and where the young vegetation with symbolic mysteries of dance and song, was varied and magnificent, the delicate removed from the perils and catastrophes and wholesome growing mingled with the of the play, yet required in regard to these rank and poisonous. Ivy trailed from to guide and interpret the sympathies of high branches of trees, making beautiful the spectators. In its modern application, traps for uuAvary feet. Grass was long and hoAvever, this generic term has its subdi­ coarse, being nourished with the giant visions, and includes les choristes proper, ferns by creeping sources of the evil well who boast musical attainments, and are of the legend. Streaks of fiery scarlet obedient to the rule of a chef d'attaque, or shining out here and there from the gloom head chorister; les accessoires, performers of greenery, and blackish atmosphere of rot­ permitted speech of a brief kind, who can ting thickets, announced the brazen beauty be intrusted upon occasion with such of the night-shade. Upon this Kathe­ simple functions as opening a door, placing rine pounced, making herself a deathly a chair, or delivering a letter, and who cor­ and brilliant nosegay as she went along; respond in many respects with our actors a poisonous sheaf of burning berries for a of utility; les figurants, the subordinate centre, some stalks of hemlock, some little dancers led by a coryphee ; and lastly, les comparses, who closely resemble our super­ broAvn half-rotted nutleaves with blots of numeraries, and are engaged in more yellow and crimson, some black slender or less numbers, according to the exi­ twigs; the whole surrounded by a lace- gencies of the representation. Of these work of skeleton oak-leaves. She would aids to performance les comparses only have nothing fresh, nothing of the spring, enjoy no regular salaries, are not formally her whim being to make a nosegay out of enrolled among the permanent members of deadliness and decay. the establishment, but are paid simply for appearing—seventy-five centimes for the night and fifty centimes for each rehearsal— THE "SUPER." or upon some such modest scale of remu­ neration. This classification would appear THE theatrical supernumerary—or the to afford opportunities to ambition. Here " super," as he is familiarly called—is a man are steps in the ladder, and merit should who in his time certainly plays many parts, be able to ascend. It is understood, how­ and yet obtains applause in none. His exits ever, that as a rule les comparses do not and his entrances, his debut and his disap­ rise. They are the serfs of the stage, who pearance, alike escape criticism and record. never obtain manumission. They are as His name is not printed in the playbills, conscripts, from whose knapsacks the field- and is for ever unknown to his audience. marshal's baton is almost invariably Even the persons he is supposed to repre­ omitted. They become veterans, but their sent upon the stage always remain anony­ length of service receives no favourable mous. Both as a living and fictitious recognition. Comparses they live and com­ creature he is denied individuality, and has parses they die, or disappear, not appa­ to be considered collectively, massed Avith rently discontented with their doom, how­ others, and inseparable from his companion ever. Meantime the figurant cherishes figures. He is not so much an actor, as sanguine hopes that he may one day rise part of the decorations, the animated fur­ to a prominent position in the ballet, or niture, so to say, of the stage. Neverthe­ that he may become an accessoire ; and the less, " supers" have their importance and accessoire looks forward fervently to rank­ value. For how could the drama exist ing in the future among the regular actors Avithout its background groups: its sol­ or artistes of the theatre, with the right of diers, citizens, peasants, courtiers, nobles, entering its grand foyer, or superior green­ guests, and attendants of all kinds ? These room. Until then he must confine him­ give prominence, support, and effect to the self and his aspirations to the petit foyer leading characters ofthe theatre; and these set apart for the use of players of his class. are the "supers." Thus it is told of a certain accessoire of Upon the French stage the minor assist­ Charles Dickens.] THE " SUPER." [April 6, 1872.] 439 the Porte St. Martin, in years past, who here much concerned. They are not fairly had won a scarcely appreciable measure of to be classed among "supers," and they fame for his adroitness in handing letters pertain almost exclusively to the lyric or coffee-cups upon a salver, and even for stage. It is to be noted, however, that the propriety with which he announced, in they are in some sort evidence of the con­ the part of a footman, the guests and visi- nexion that once existed between the Church toi^s of a drama—such as "Monsieur le and the Theatre ; the ecclesiastical and the Viscomte de St. Remy!" or "Madame la laical drama. At any rate, the chorus Marquise de Roncourt!"—that he applied singers often undertake divided duties in to his manager for an increase of his salary this respect, and accept engagements both on account of the special value of his ser­ at the cathedral and the opera-house. And vices. " I do not expect," he frankly said, sometimes it has happened that the dis­ " immediately to receive twenty-five thou­ charge of their dual obligations has involved sand francs, as Monsieur Frederic Lemaitre them in serious difficulties. Thus, some years does; no, not yet; although I bear in since, there is said to have been a Christ­ mind that Monsieur Lemaitre began his mas spectacle in preparation at the opera- career with fighting broad-sword combats house in Paris. The entertainment was in Madame Saqui's circus ; but my present of a long and elaborate kind, and for its salary is but six hundred francs a year, perfect production numberless rehearsals, and a slight increase " early and late, dress and undress, were im­ "Monsieur Fombonne," interrupted the peratively necessary. Now the chorus of manager, "I acknowledge the justice of the opera also represented the choir of your application. I admire and esteem you. Notre Dame. It was a season of the You are one of the most useful members year for which the Church has appointed of my company. I well knoAV your worth ; many celebrations. The singers were inces­ no one better." santly running to and fro between the opera- house and Notre Dame. Often they had Monsieur Fombonne, glowing Avith plea­ not a moment to spare, and punctuality in sure, bowed in his best manner. attending their appointments was scarcely " I may venture to hope then " possible, while the trouble of so frequently " By all means. Monsieur Fombonne. changing their costumes was extremely irk­ Hope sustains us under all our afflictions. some to them. On one occasion a dress Always hope. For my part hope is the rehearsal at the theatre, which commenced only thing left me. Business is wretched. at a very late hour, after the conclusion The treasury is empty. I cannot possibly of the ordinary performance of the evening, raise your salary. But you are an artist, was so protracted that the time for the and therefore above pecuniary conside­ early service at the cathedral was rapidly rations. I do not—I cannot—offer you approaching. The chorus appeared as money. But I can gratify a laudable am­ demons at the opera, and wore the tight- bition. Hitherto you have ranked only as an fitting scaly dresses which time out of accessoire ; from this time forward you are mind have been invested upon the stage an actor. I give you the right of enter­ with diabolical attributes. What Avere ing the grand foyer. You are permitted to they to do ? Was there time to undress call Monsieur Lemaitre mon camarade ; to and dress again? Scarcely.^ Besides, Avas tutoyer Mademoiselle Theodorine. I am it worth the trouble ? It Avas very dark ; sure. Monsieur Fombonne, that you will bitterly cold; there was not a soul to be thoroughly appreciate the distinction I have seen in the streets; all Paris was abed and conferred upon you." asleep. Moreover, the door of the sacristy Monsieur Fombonne was delighted. He would be ready open to receive them, and was subsequently to discover, however, that their white stoles would be imraediately some disadvantages attended his new dig­ obtainable. Well, the story goes that these nity ; that the medal he had won had its desperate singers, accoutred as they were, reverse. The accessoires and figurants of ran as fast as they could to Notre Dame, the theatre always received their salaries on veiled their satanic dresses beneath the the first day of each month. The artistes snowy surplices of the choir, and accom­ were not paid until the sixth or seventh day. plished their sacred duties without any Monsieur Fombonne had to live upon credit discovery of the impropriety of their con­ for a week as the price of his ncAv pri­ duct. It is true they encountered in their vileges. His gain was shadoAvy; his loss course a patrol of the civic guard; but substantial. the representatives of law and order, form- With the choristes proper we are not J. 440 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

ing probably their own conclusions as to Willyam Kendall—to give him for his the significance of the demoniac apparition, said servis everi Aveek of his playing in are said to have prudently taken to flight London ten shillings, and in the countrie in an opposite direction. five shillings, for the Avhich he covenaunteth Upon our early English stage the to be redye at all houres to play in the house " super" had frequent occupation; the of the said Philip, and in no other." It Shakesperian drama, indeed, makes large may be noted that Shakespeare's first con­ demands upon the mute performers. The nexion A\dth the Globe Theatre is shown stage at this time was not very spacious, upon fair evidence to have been originally however, and Avas in part occupied by the that of a " servitor." In that case the more pretentious of the spectators, who, poet must often have been required to seated upon stools, or reclining upon the appear in very subordinate characters— rushes Avhich strcAved the boards, were perhaps even characters not intrusted with attended by their pages, and amused them­ speech. Will it inflame too violently the selves with smoking their pipes and noisily ambition of our modern " supers" to criticising the performance. There was suggest to them that very possibly Shake- little room therefore for any great number speare himself may have preceded them in of supernumeraries. But spectacles—to the performance of their somewhat in­ AA^hich the "super" has always been indis­ glorious duties ? The hired men or ser­ pensable—had already Avon the favour of vitors were under the control and in the playgoers. Sir Henry Wotton writes in pay of the proprietor or manager of the 1613 of a new play produced at the Globe theatre, and their salaries constituted no Theatre, " called All is True, representing charge upon the shares of the chief actors. some principal pieces of the reign of Henry Still these were entitled to complain appa­ rently if the hired men were too few in the Eighth, which was set forth with many number to give due effect to the represen­ extraordinary circumstances of pomp and tations. In 1614 a dispute arose between majesty, even to matting ofthe stage; the HensloAve and his sharing actors, by reason knights of the order Avith their Georges of his having suddenly reduced his ex­ and Garter, the guards Avith their em­ penses by dismissing "four hired men." broidered coats and the like; sufficient, in He had previously sought to charge their truth, within a while to make greatness stipends upon the shares, although bound very familiar, if not ridiculous." " Supers" by agreement to defray these expenses out must surely have been employed on this of the money derived from the galleries, at •ni'ii occasion. It is clear, however, that the this time, perhaps, a managerial perquisite.

• •. money-takers, " or gatherers," as they were But in addition to the servitors, as the called, after the audience had assembled, representatives of minor and mute cha­ and their presence Avas no longer needed at racters, there were also available the jour­ the doors, Avere accustomed to appear upon neymen or apprentices of the more eminent the stage as the representatives of guards, performers. If they paid no premium upon soldiers, &c. An early play refers to the being articled, novices were at any rate combats of the scene being accomplished bound in return for the education they by "theblue-coated stage-keepers," or at­ received to hand their earnings, or a large tendants. And the actors were classified part of them, to their masters. And this is at this time, according to their professional precisely the case at the present time in standing, as " Avhole sharers," " three- regard to the pupils of musical professors quarter sharers," " half sharers," and and the teachers of singing, dancing, and " hired men," or " servitors." The leading feats of the circus. The services of the players Avere as joint proprietor>s in the apprentices were transferable, and could undertaking, and divided the receipts be bought a-nd sold. There is quite a slave- among them according to a prearranged trade aspect about the following entry in scale. Minor characters were sustained Henslowe's Diary. " Bowght my boye by the " servitors" who Avere paid, as our Jeames Brystow, of William Augusten, actors are at the present time, by weekly player, the 8th of December, 1597, for AA'ages, and had no other interest in the eight pounds." Augustine Phillips, the success of the theatre with which they actor, one of Shakespeare's partners, who Avere associated, beyond desire that its ex­ died in 1605, and who hy his wIU be­ chequer might be always equal to their queathed to Shakespeare " a thirty shillings claims upon it. Philip Henslowe's Diary peece in gould," also gave to " Samuell contains an entry regarding a non-sharing Gilborne, my late apprentice, the some of actor: " Hiered as a covenant servant Oharies DickenB.] THE "SUPER. [April 6,1372.] 44X

fortye shillings, and my mouse-coloured the clown and pantaloon. It is not sur­ velvit hose, and a white taffety dublet, a prising altogether that a certain apathy blacke taffety sute, my purple cloke, sword gradually steals over him, and that such and dagger, and my base viall." He also intelhgencc as he ever possessed becomes gave to " James Sands, my apprentice, the in time somewhat numbed by the peculiar some of forty shillings and a citterne, a nature of his profession. Moreover, in bandore, and a lute, to be paid and de­ regard to the play in which he takes part livered unto him at the expiration of his he is generally but dimly informed. Its terme of yeres in his indentur of appren- plot and purpose are a mystery to him. He ticehood." From his bequest of musical never sees it represented or rehearsed as instruments, it has been conjectui'ed that an entirety. His own simple duties accom­ Phillips sometimes played in what is now plished, he is hurried to the rear ofthe stage called the orchestra of the theatre. A sum to be out of the way of the actors. Why of forty shillings in Elizabeth's time repre­ he bends his knee to one performer and sents the value of about ten pounds of our loads another with fetters; why there is currency. What with its " gatherers," banning in this scene and blessing in that; "servitors," and journeymen, the Shake­ why the heroine in white adores the gallant spearian stage was obviously provided suffi­ in blue and abominates her suitor in red, ciently with supernumerary assistants. are to him inexplicable matters. The The "super" is useful, even ornamental dramas in which he figures only impress in his way, though it behoves him always his mind in relation to the dresses he is to stand aloof from the footlights, so that constrained to assume during their repre­ distance may lend his aspect as much en­ sentation, the dresses being never of his chantment as possible; but he is not highly own choosing, rarely fitting him, and their esteemed by the general public. In truth significance being always outside his com­ he has been long the object of ridicule and prehension. To him the tragedy of King John is but the occasion on which he and his caricature. He is charged with stupidity, fellows " wore them tin pots on our 'eads ;" and is popularly considered as a very Julius Caesar the play in which "we went on absurd sort of creature. But he has re­ in sheets." " What are we supposed to be?" signed his own volition, he has but to obey. a curious "super" once inquired of a more He is as a puppet whose wires are pulled by experienced comrade. " Blessed if I know," others. He is under the rule of a " super- was the answer. "Demons I expect." master," who is in his turn governed by They were clothing themselves in chain- the wavings of the prompter's Avhite flag mail, and were "supposed to be"—Cru­ in the wings, the prompter being controlled saders. by the stage-manager, who is supposed to he the executant of the dramatist's inten­ The "super's" dress is, indeed, his prime tions. The "super's" position upon the stage consideration, and out of it arises his is strictly defined for him; sometimes even greatest grievance. He must surrender marked on the boards with chalk. He himself unconditionally to the costumier, may not move until the word of command and obey implicity his behests. Summer is given him, and then every change of or winter, he has no voice in the question ; station or attitude must be pursuant to he must clothe himself warmly or scantily, previous instruction. And his duties are just as he is bidden. "Always fleshings sometimes arduous. He may often be when there's a frost," a " super" was once required to change his attire and assume heard to grumble, who conceived the classi­ a new personality in the course of one cal system of dress or undress—and for that night's performances. A member of a band matter, perhaps, the classical drama also— of brigands in one scene, he may in to be invented solely for his inconvenience another be enrolled in a troop of soldiers, and discomfort. But more trying than this sent to combat with and capture those antique garb is the demoniac mask of pan­ malefactors. In the same play he may tomime, which is as a diver's helmet ill pro­ wear UOAV the robes of a nobleman, and vided with appliances for admitting air or now the rags of a mendicant; A demon permitting out-look. The group of panting possessed of supernatural powers at the "supers," with their'mimic heads under opening of a pantomime, he is certain their arms—their faces smeared with red before its close to be found among those or blue, in accordance with direction, not good-natured people who saunter across of their own choice—to be discovered be­ the stage for the sole purpose, as it would hind the scenes during the performance of seem, of being assaulted and battered by a Christmas piece, is an impressive portion

^ 442 [AprU 6, 1872.1 ALL THE YEAR ROUND* [Conducted by

of the spectacle, although it is withheld naturally asserts itself in his costume from the contemplation of the audience. which will not bear critical investigation. There have been " supers" who approached His boots are of the homeliest and some­ very near to death by suffocation, from the times of the muddiest; course dabs of hurtful nature of their attire, rather than rouge appear upon his battered cheeks; fail in the discharge of their duties. For his wig—for a " super" of this class almost there is heroism everywhere. always wears a wig—is unkempt and de­ The stage has always been fertile in the cayed; his white cravat has a burlesque matter of anecdotage, and of course comical air ; and his gloves are of cotton. There stories of "supers" have abounded; for are even stories extant of very economical these, the poorest of players, are readily " supers" who have gone halves in a pair" available for facetious purposes. Thus, so of "berlins," and even expended rouge far back as the days of Quin, there is record on but one side of their faces, pleading of a curious misapprehension on the part that they were required to stand only on of the supernumeraries of the time. Quin's the right or the left of the stage, as the pronunciation was of a broad old-fashioned case might *be, and as they could thus be kind, a following of a traditional method seen but in profile by the audience, these of elocution from which Garrick did much defects in their appearance could not to release the theatre. The play was possibly attract notice. Altogether the Thomson's Coriolanus, and Quin appeared " super's" least effective performance is that as the hero. In the scene of the Roman of "a guest." ladies' entry in procession, to solicit the It is a real advance for a " super" when he return to Rome of Coriolanus, the stage is charged with some smaU theatrical task, AA^as filled with tribunes and centurions of Avhich removes him from the ranks of his the Volscian army, bearing fasces, their fellows. He acquires individuality, though ensigns of authority. Quin, as the hero, of an inferior kind. But his promotion commanded them to " lower their fasces" entails responsibilities for which he is not pi by w^ay of homage to the matrons of Rome. always prepared. Lekain, the French But the representatives of the centurions tragedian, playing the part of Tancred, at H understood him to mean their faces^ and Bordeaux, required a supernumerary to act ri much to the amusement of the audience as his squire, and carry his helmet, lance, o all reverently bowed their heads with ab­ and shield. Lekain's personal appearance 31 surd unanimity. was insignificant, and his manner at re­ r?r But it is as the performers of "guests" hearsal had been very subdued. The that the "supers" have especially moved " super" thought little of the hero he was derision in our theatres ; and, indeed, on to serve, and deemed his own duties slight the Parisian stage les invites have long been enough. But at night Lekain's majesty of established provocatives of laughter. The port, and the commanding tone in which he assumption of evening dress and some­ cried, " Suivez moi!" to his squire, so thing of the manners of polite society, has startled and overcame that attendant that always been severely trying to the super­ he suddenly let fall, with a great crash, numerary actor. What can he really the weapons and armour he was carrying. know of balls and fashionable assemblies ? Something of the same kind has often Of course, speech is not demanded of him, happened upon our own stage. " You dis­ nor is his presence needed very near to tressed me very much, sir," said a famous the proscenium, but he is required to give tragedian once to a " super," who had com­ animation to the background, and to be as mitted default in some important business easy and graceful as he may in his aspect of the scene. " Not more than you fright­ and movements. The result is not satis­ ened me, sir," the " super" frankly said. factory. He is more at home in less re­ He was forgiven his failure on account of fined situations. He is prone to indulge the homage it conveyed to the tragedian's in rather grotesque gestures, expressive of impress! veness. admiration of the brilliant decorations sur­ M. Etienne Arago, writing some years rounding him, and profuse, even servile since upon les choristes, calls attention to gratitude for the hospitality extended to the important services rendered to the him. He interchanges mute remarks, enli­ stage by its mute performers, and demands vened by surprising grimaces, with the lady their wider recognition. He holds that as of the ballet, in the shabbiest of ball much, or even more talent is necessary to dresses, who hangs affectionately upon his constitute a tolerable figurant as to make arm. The limited amount of his stipend a good actor. He describes the figurant

X \ A Charies Dickens.] THE "SUPER." [April 6,1872.] 443

as a multiform actor, a dramatic chameleon, " Our new play will be a great go !" a compelled by the special nature of his oc­ promoted "super" once observed to certain cupation, or rather by its lack of special of his fellows. "/ play a policeman! I nature, to appear young or old, crooked or go on in the last scene, and handcuff Mr. straight, noble or base-born, savage or Rant. I have to say, ' Murder's the civihzed, according to the good pleasure of charge! Stand back!' Won't theit fetch the dramatist. " Thus, when Tancred de­ the house?" claims, ' Toi superbeOrbassan, c'est toi que There are soldiers doomed to perish in je defie !' and flings his gauntlet upon the their first battle. And there have been stage, Orbassan has but to wave his hand "supers" who have failed to justify their ad­ and an attendant advances boldly, stoops, vancement, and silenced forever have had to picks up the gage of battle, and resumes his fall back into the ranks again. The French former position. That is thought to be stage has a story of a figurant who ruined a very simple duty. But to accomplish it at once a new tragedy and his own pro­ Avithout provoking the mirth of the audi­ spects by an unhappy lapsus linguae, the ence is le sublime du metier—le triomphe result of undue haste and nervous excite­ de I'art!" ment. He had but to cry, aloud, in the The emotions of an author who for the crisis of the drama: "Le roi se meurt!" first time sees himself in print, have often He was perfect at rehearsal; he earned been descanted upon. The sensations of a the applause even of the author. A bril­ "super," raised from the ranks, intrusted liant future, as he deemed, was open to Avith the utterance of a few words, and him. But at night he could only utter, in enabled to read the entry of his OAvn name broken tones, "Le meurt se roi !" and the in the playbills, are scarcely less entitled tragic situation was dissolved in laughter. to sympathy. His task may be slight So, in our own theatre, there is the es­ enough, the measure of speech permitted tablished legend of Delpini, the Italian him most limited ; the reference to him in clown, who, charged to exclaim at a critical the programmes may simply run— moment, " Pluck them asunder!" could produce no more inteUigible speech than CHARLES (a waiter) . . Mr. JONES; " Massonder em plocket!" Much mirth in or even the house and dismay on the stage ensued. But Delpini had gained his object. He RAILWAY PORTER . Mr. BROWN ; had become qualified as an actor to partici­ but the delight of the performer is infinite. pate in the benefits of the Theatrical Fund. His promotion is indeed of a prodigious As a mere pantomimist he was without a kind. Hitherto but a lay-figure, he is now title. But John Kemble had kindly furthered endoAved with life. He has become an the claim ofthe foreign clown by intrusting actor! The world is at length informed him for once with "a speaking part." The of his existence. He has emerged from tragedian, however, had been quite unpre­ the crowd, and though it may be but for a pared for the misadventure that was to moment, can assert his individuality. He result. carries his part about with him every­ Delpini was, it appears, doomed to mor­ where—it is but a slip of paper with tification in regard to his attempts at one line of writing running across it. He English speech upon the stage. He was exhibits it boastfully to his friends. He engaged as clown at the Bast London, or reads it again and again; recites it in Royalty Theatre, in Goodman's Fields, at every tone of voice he can command— a time w^hen that establishment was Avith­ practises his elocutionary powers upon out a license for dramatic performances, every possible occasion. A Parisian figu­ and was incurring the bitter hostility of rant, advanced to the position of accessoire, the patent managers. It was understood, was so elated that he is said to have ex­ hoAvever, that musical and pantomimic en­ pressed surprise that the people he met tertainments could lawfully be presented. in the streets did not boAv to him ; that the But the unhappy clown, in the course of a sentinels on guard did not present arms as harlequinade, had ventured to utter the he passed. His reverence for the author simple words, " Roast Beef !" and forthwith in whose play he is to appear is boundless ; he was prosecuted and sent to prison as a he regards him as a second. Shakespeare, if rogue and a vagabond. For a time he seems not something more. His devotion to the to have been even reduced to prison fare. manager, who has given him the part, for His case is referred to in a prologue written a time approaches deliriousness. by Miles Peter Andrews, and dehvered upon

^ <^: 444 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by the occasion of a benefit, Avhen the per­ still less that the whole band might adopt formances not being for " gain, hire, or re­ it. But this had happened. For the ward," were held to be permissible. The future their guns were given them loaded. address was a kind of dialogue, spoken by ' '' ' • I—-. 1. Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Gibbs, in the cha­ LOST HOURS. racters of Melpomene and Thalia. IT was a mournful watch she kept, In the soundless winter night, "Well, friendSj we both are come your hands to kiss, "While all her world around her slept, The tragic lady and the comic miss; And the pitiless stars shone bright; But should we both attempt to keep possession For she saw the years in long review, Warrants may be issued from the Quarter Session : The years she had trifled past, For tho' alone, our tone;ues may be untied well The years when life was bright and new, A dialogue will send us both to Bridewell: And, what had they left at last! Think of our danger should we meet again And she cried, as she thought of her drooping flowers, The informing carpenter of Drury Lane ; Her baffled hopes and her failing powers: Danger so dire it staggers all belief, " Oh my lost hours!" Water and bread, for calling OHt * Roast Beef I'" What a harvest might have been garnered in, When the golden grain was wasted! It used to be said that at the Parisian What a nectar of life it was hers to win, Cirque, once famous for its battle pieces, When the draught was barely tasted I refractory "supers" were ahvays punished What happy memories might have shone, Had folly never stained them! by being required to represent "the enemy" What noble heights to rest upon, of the evening: the Russians, Prussians, If a steadier foot had gained them ! And she cried as she sat mid her faded flowers, English, or Arabs, as the case might be— " Rashness and weakness bring fatal dowers; who were to be overcome by the victorious Oh my lost hours!" soldiers of France—repulsed at the point of Too late for battle, too late for fame, the bayonet, trampled upon and routed in a Comes the vision of better life. variety of ignominious Avays. The repre­ With eyes that are burning with tears of shame She looks on the world's keen strife; sentatives of " the enemy" complained The patient love cannot pardon now, that they could not endure to be hopelessly Or the fond believing cheer. beaten night after night. Their expostu­ Where the white cross stands and the violets blow. Lie the loved that made life so dear. lation was unpatriotic ; but it Avas natural. Kind nature renews her perished flowers, For "supers" have their feelings, moi^l But death recks nothing of sun or showers ; as well as physical. At one of our own Ah, for lost hours I theatres a roulette table was introduced in a scene portraying the salon at Homburg, or Baden-Baden. Certain of the " supers" AMONG THE MARKETS. petitioned that' they should not always IN TWO PARTS. PART I. appear as the losing gamesters. They THANKS to the Avholesale demolition of desired sometimes to figure among the ancient slums, Smithfield, or Smoothfield, Avinners. It need hardly be said that the the ancient " campus planus," is no longer money that changed hands upon the occa­ difficult of access. The narrow streets and sion Avas only of that valueless kind that tortuous approaches, once made dangerous has no sort of currency off the stage. to life and limb by countless herds of over­ When "supers" appear as modern driven cattle, have disappeared, leaving in soldiers in action, it is found advisable their place broad roadways and open spaces to load their guns for them. They fear to be let for building purposes, at prices the " kick" of their Aveapons, and A^dll, if which would make even the fortunate possible, avoid firing them. Once in a shoddy aristocrats of Fifth Avenue stare military play a troop of grenadiers were Avith amazement. The old streets and required to fire a volley. Their officer time-honoured landmarks have been swept waved his sword and gave the AVord of away, and the fine old English cattle-dealer, command superbly ; but no sound followed, with mouth full of strange oaths and greasy save only that of the snapping of locks. pocket well lined with oleaginous country Not a gun had been loaded. An unfor­ notes, has disappeared from the ancient field. tunate unanimity had prevailed among the grenadiers. Bach had forborne to load his The cattle-pens are gone, and the poor Aveapon, trusting that his omission Avould goaded oxen and worried sheep have be­ escape notice in the general noise, and as­ taken themselves to Islington. Often have sured that a shot more or less could be of I Avondered what became of the sorry hacks little consequence. It had occurred to no formerly sold in Smithfield. What could one of them that his scheme might be put those poor wall-eyed, Avind-galled, spa­ into operation by others beside himself— vined, foundered, staggery bags of bones

^^ :&> Charies Dickens.] AMONG THE MARKETS, [April 6,1872.] 445

he good f»r ? For the knacker's yard ? Slopes of Victoria Regina. With light, Not always. Fate was not always so kind springy step, he daintily trod the " Seve- to these poor played-out Bucephali, but rals" or the "Limekilns," or, Avith thun­ granted them a short respite from the dering hoof, spurned the broad green tanner, the glue-maker, and the cat's-meat ribbon of the Rowley Mile. man, only that the last glimmering of At last came the great day when Dog- vitality might be driven out of their stealer (by Birdcatcher—Nancy) was to wretched carcasses—that they might lite­ prove his mettle, and carry the fortunes of rally die in harness. Living, some few that ignoble Cassar, his OAvner, to victory. years ago, about ten miles from London, The vast Roodee was crammed with eager it was my luck to be driven on a four-horse spectators, the walls of ancient Chester omnibus every morning to the City by an covered with anxious bettors clinging like exceedingly flashy driver. Tommy Ames flies on the steep sides of the natural amphi­ was a great artist in his Avalk, or rather theatre. The favourite was the cynosure drive of life; not a gentleman coachman, of all eyes, the observed of all, as, steered lifting the ribbons nearly over his head at by a tiny miniature man in shining satin^ a pull-up, but a thorough workman, keep­ he took his preliminary canter. The hour ing each individual animal up to collar, had come, and the horse; the flag fell, and taking every ounce out of his team. and Dogstealer made short work of his His omnibus was the shabbiest, his harness numerous opponents. Bearing his colours the seediest, his horses the most woebegone gallantly to the fore, he came away at the "hair trunks" on the road, but his pace distance, and amid shouts of " The favourite was undeniable, beating out of sight the Avalks in," passed the post, the winner of neat vehicles and well-fed animals of the the Chester " Coop." He was a proud opposition. Much as I relished the pace, horse that day. Eyes hitherto blinded by I could not help pitying the poor over­ prejudice or hoodwinked by antagonism worked beasts, and one day could not suddenly opened to his good points. Per­ refrain from asking Tommy if his horses sistent detractors who had denounced him never got any rest. as a fiddle-headed, slack-ribbed brute, with "Rest," he answered, coolly, "my 'osses "too much daylight under him," sorrow­ rest when they're dead. You see, sir, I fully confessed him a veritable "clinker." buy 'em at Smiffle, two pun ten a head Bright eyes looked lovingly upon him, and all round, and sell 'em dead for a sov. small white plump hands—long to be They mostly last from six weeks to two gloved with the proceeds of his victory— months, so my 'osses don't take much out applauded him enthusiastically. Flushed of me. In course I picks them as has a with victory, his owner—with whom it bit o' blood in 'em, and I looks out for a had been a case of " man or mouse" that Avicious heye ; I likes a AVICIOUS heye, I do. day—led the beautiful animal in to weigh; A 'oss as has wice in him has go in him, the tidings of Dogstealer's feat sped far and safe as the Bank; and temper Or no temper, near, Avhile his lucky backers rubbed their let me alone for putting 'em along." And hands amid the ominous silence of the the heartless Automedon put them along ring, and drank Dogstealer's health in accordingly. Unfortunate "tits " persuaded rivers of champagne. He did not get by all-powerful whipcord to "spank "along on so well afterwards. Defeat after de­ sorely against their Avill! That near leader, feat dimmed the glory of his scutcheon; now quivering under the lash of a vulgar down he went, ever loAver and lower vet— 'bus driver is a thorough-bred equine aristo­ to the cab, and ultimately to that loAvest crat, every inch of him. The blood of the deep of " Smiffle." There is some comfort Barley Arabian, his desert-born ancestor, in reflecting that bis ungrateful owner was courses through his veins and throbs in hanged. the great heart age and ill-usage have The Smithfield of tradition is no more. A failed to quell. The condition of those stately building, chiefly of iron and glass, shaky fore-legs, sadly battered about the but with external facing of red brick and knees, was once a source of care and sleep­ white stone, as if indicating the streaks of less nights to the high and mighty ones of fat and lean Avithin, is dedicated to the the land, for he was then a popular favourite purpose of a metropolitan dead meat mar­ for a great " event." His morning gaUops, ket. Light and graceful, but immensely Avatched from afar by vigilant touts, were strong iron arches, enclose a vast space duly chronicled Avith the same loving furnished with material for countless minuteness that records the walks on the Homeric banquets.

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446 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

On Saturdays—when retail as well as done to death to supply the roast beef of wholesale business is done—the market pre­ old England. Huge Leicesters and plump sents a very animated spectacle; the spoils Southdowns elbow the tiny dainty Welsh of slaughtered flocks and herds lie around sheep, while huge porkers look scornfully in gigantic heaps, while busy, stalwart men doAvn on the meek little sucking-pigs ready hurry past, carrying barons of beefj whole for the spit, there to be roasted until their sheep, and fat po:^ers in every direction. eyes drop out—^the index of perfect cookery But the chief glory of the new meat —and then to be devoured with plum-sauce, market is in its admirable subterranean according to the dictum of the late Mr. arrangements. Beneath the busy mart is Rush, the eminent murderer (hanged some an immense vault occupied by a vast cob­ years since at Norwich), or to be absorbed web of raihvay tracks. Hither come the by milder mannered men with soothino- trucks laden with meat from metropolitan apple-sauce. But the poultry market is abattoirs, or more distant Scotland. By perhaps the chief glory of Leadenhall. admirable mechanical contrivances, the What regiments of geese, not green light ponderous masses of juicy beef and fine­ weights, but substantial stubble-fed mag­ grained mutton are hoisted to the level of nates, await their final stuffing of sage the floor above, at a notable saving of and onions and a glorious tomb in an ap­ cartage, porterage, and human labour gene­ preciative stomach ! Not regiments, but rally. The City has reason to be proud of brigades, nay, whole armies of fowls, echpse its model market, and will probably find the geese in number if not in majesty, while the two milhons spent upon it turn out no turkeys are comparatively scarce, probably unprofitable investment. knowing their mission, and reserving their Within shot of Smithfield is the vege­ energies for Christmas. Plump pigeons, table market of Farringdon, once aspiring their cooing stayed for ever, vainly struggle to, and even now not despairing of a suc­ for notice among their more majestic com­ cessful rivalry with Covent Garden. It is, petitors, and are only kept in countenance however, although well stocked with vege­ by hecatombs of tiny but toothsome larks. tables of all sorts and sizes, from huge Tenants of moor and marsh, copse and drumheads to doll's cabbages packed by stubble, " birds of rare plume," with their fn once gorgeous tints now, alas ! dimmed by O hundreds in neat baskets, entirely devoid of the features which give to the often- death, hang around in rich luxuriance. r* described Covent Garden its never-failing Cock-pheasants, glittering with metalhc interest. Sanguine people, however, hope hues, are linked with their soberly clad r.'-. t'. for better times, and there is talk of re­ mates. Little broAvn partridges, modest building Farringdon Market altogether, and in their suit of humble broAvn, are not giving it every chance of success against its altogether put out of court by their mere­ more favoured rival. tricious French cousins, gay in their upper It is very doubtful to me whether any attire and red as to their extremities. From person not actually "located" within its his heathery home on the breezy hillside precincts ever succeeded in finding his way comes the succulent grouse. Near him is about Leadenhall Market. Such a won­ his more stately cousin, the blackcock, derful labyrinth surely never existed since boasting beneath his raven plumage three the days of ill-used Ariadne. It would several kinds of meat, while further on have puzzled Theseus to have found his hangs the great monarch of the race, the Avay in and out of the innumerable alleys, lordly capercailzie, auerhahn, or cock of courts, and passages, making up this won­ the wood, saturated with the aroma of fra­ derful depot of every imaginable comestible. grant pine-buds cuUed in the gloomy forests All kinds of creatures, furred or feathered, of his native Norway. Plump hares, no biped or quadruped, dead or alive, are here scraggy rascals in fine training, but broad- for sale. A square covered space is as­ backed fellows from Norfolk, ten and eleven signed to the raiment that but recently pounders, doubtful as yet of their ultimate clad the lordly steer. There they lay, hides, fate—the fragrant roast or the savoury jug horns and all, in quaint layers, shadowing —tiny aristocratic wild rabbits, disdaining forth the grand proportions of their once companionship with the bloated plebeians mighty proprietors, who now fill the meat from Ostend, await a final asphyxia at the market inside, where meat enough to fur­ hands of the much-abused, indispensable, nish a thousand lord mayor's feasts lies tear - compelling onion. Round- breasted, heaped. Short-horned Devon, and long- plump-thighed woodcock turn up their horned, ruddy, curly Hereford, have been slender bills at the neighbourhood of their / ^

Charles Dickens.] AMONG THE MARKETS, [April ^,1872.] 447

poor relation the snipe, while curly-tailed Walking one day in the market, enjoy­ mallard, prim' little teal, and juicy Avidgeon ing the happy mental condition lyrically await the lemon and cayenne which are ascribed to the Jolly Young Waterman, their inevitable fate. who "roAved along thinking of nothing at But live dogs distract attention from all," I espied a lovely " purp " reclining in dead game. The friend of man demands his little humble bed. He was asleep. his notice with exacting bark, or insinu­ Doubtless, in his doggish dreams visions ating whine. Huge mastiff's tug impatiently of future greatness floated before him; at their chains, bull-dogs—fine old conser­ whole hecatombs of rats, untimely slain, vatives these—blink sleepily through half- ministering to his glory, and stamping closed eyes at the scene, regarding the him as no unworthy scion of a noble race. whole market, and indeed the world of He opened one eye—his left eye, adorned these degenerate days, with ineffable scorn, with a patch of brindle—and gave me a as utterly gone and lost since the fine old glance that went straight to my heart. English pastime of bull-baiting was abo- We had divined each other. From that hshed. More hopeful of the future are moment our interests were identical. The the sleek, wiry, graceful black-and-tan wary proprietor—doggiest of men—had terriers ; and they are in the right, for rats not been unobservant of my affectionate are not likely to become as rare as bus­ looks. "Fine purp that, sir," he remarked tards for some time to come. Contemp­ in oily tones ; "his father is the best bred tuously sneering at the mixed society dawg in Hingland. Maybe you've heard, around them, supercilious pugs turn up sir, of Muggins's Boxer ?" their wrinkled noses in disdain, or lolling Much humbled, I confessed that I had carelessly on their cushions look hopefully not had the advantage of numberiug that forward to the happy time when they renowned animal among my acquaintance. shall exchange the atmosphere of Leaden­ " Best dawg livin'," said my doggy friend ; hall for the more rarefied ether of Mayfair " has killed rats afore the royal family, and or Belgravia. 'arf the crowned 'eds in Europe." With sharp joyous " yap" the jovial It dawned upon me that the owner of Scotch terriers invite notice; pushing fel­ this canine pearl was drawing slightly on lows these, not easily put down nor snubbed, his imagination, but I was too much en­ but used to petting, to having their own chained by admiration to contradict him. way, and working their own wicked Avill on I Avas the captive of his bow—his very tassels, fringes, and other attractive odds long bow—and of his spear. I became and ends; tough little doggies too, and able, the owner of the celestial pup, parting, " on a pinch," to take their own part right with a sigh, with my last sovereign, as one well. It was once my privilege to number upon whose like I might not look again one of these dogs among my dearest friends. for some time to come. The dog grew I have seen the little rogue run furiously apace, increasing daily in beauty, and up to a huge Newfoundland, seize the good- already sweet visions of an impromptu natured monster by the neck, and while rat-pit in the back kitchen flitted across swinging in the air enjoy in his doggish my mind, when—but why revive an un­ imagination the idea that he was giving speakable grief ?—he was stolen: lost to the giant a good shaking ! me for ever. No treasure I could off'er, Long-eared King Charles' spaniels—who and "no questions asked," sufficed to re­ appear to think that their mission in life is store Nipper to my longing arms; he was confined to crossing their paws and looking gone like a lovely flower torn from its pretty—recline with languid, high-bred stem. ease in dainty baskets near a brace of Apparently unheeding the cries of their milk-white bull-terrier pups. Now white natural enemies, whole flocks of pigeons bull-terriers have a fatal fascination for the enjoy a happy, if crowded existence. They present writer. I have ever cherished a are here of all sorts, sizes, and varieties. Avarm admiration for these charming ani­ Slender, wattled carriers wait impatiently mals, uniting as they do pluck, strength, for the time when they shall again spread fidelity, and beauty. I am not particular their wings, bearing to anxious men tidings as to their entire whiteness, as a beauty- of joy or sorrow, of sudden wealth or spot near the tail, and a brindled patch dire disaster, of battle, victory, or of death. over one eye, only invest the lovely posses­ Graceful tumblers—aerial acrobats—pent sor with an additional charm, like a patch in narrow space, meek little black-hooded of court-plaister on the cheek of Belinda. nuns, frilled Jacobins, vain fantails, snowy- P

^ 448 [April 6,1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by white in plumage, conceited pouters, puffed crawl in life of Chelonius, has many ad­ and swollen with a preposterous dignity, vantages. The sober iron-clad does not tender, softly cooing doves, and swift wear " his heart upon his sleeve for dawg blue-rocks, chosen victims of the gun, to peck at," not he; but when insulted, divide the honours of the live poultry kicked, or trampled on by an unapprecia- shops with the stately Shanghai, the tive world, votes himself "incompris," draws fashionable Brahmapootra, and the game in his horns, and retires into himself, there little Bantam. Casting a wistful glance to wait till called for. I love the unobtru­ at a fine lop-eared rabbit—a choice variety sive tortoise right weU, mainly, I beheve, —our old friend Reynard shows his cun­ on account of his family resemblance to ning vizard. Poor fellow 1 I warrant he the luscious diamond-backed terrapin, de­ would rather be leading a field of well- fined by the Transatlantic showman as " an mounted gentlemen, riding " on a lot o' amphibberous animile—can't live on land money," a merry dance over the grass and dies in the water." counties, than be sitting here, with dry Many a time and oft have I met that in- pads and mangy-looking brush. teresting creature, and never have I expe­ Parrots grey, parrots green, cunning rienced the slightest difficulty in "putting parakeets, gorgeous lories, and swinging, myself outside " of him. Admirable as crested cockatoos, split the air with their my hard-shell friend is in soup, the highest screams, shrieking the praises of Pretty and most apoplectic authorities agree in Poll, and demanding, with such pertina­ declaring that the terrapin "prefers" to cious repetition, to be informed of the time be eaten stcAved. of day, that one cannot shake off" the im­ Like Sir Richard Strachan, "burning to pression that they must have important beat 'em," blear-eyed ferrets blink viciously appointments to keep, and, perhaps, heavy at noisy, conceited ducks ; game-cocks settlements to make with the monkeys trumpet their shrill note of defiance; hedge­ grinning and chattering opposite them. hogs suggest a few pointed remarks. But W Loquacious magpies add to the din, but it is getting late, the shops are shutting do not Interrupt the profound cogitations up, the last haggler for a cheap ox-head m of the solemn, glossy-coated raven, who, is carrying off" bis prize in triumph, so we unheeding the chatter of the thoughtless, will emerge into the open street, turn our X volatile creatures around him, wraps him­ backs upon the "tall bully" of Fish-street- mil •Oi'fll self in his meditations, and ponders on hill, and wending our Avay homewards, w grave and solemn subjects far above the look forward hopefully to the next market- comprehension of the vulgar croA\^d. Long- day. billed curlcAvs pine for a " sniff* of the briny," and look curiously at plump, happy little dormice, sleek, comfortable BRITISH AMAZONS. little beasts; funny little guinea pigs nibble at their greenmeat, making a mighty fuss AMAZONIAN dames, be it said rejoicingly, over a humble cabbage-leaf, while beneath are not common products of British soil; them crawls a creature of lower organism still it has now and again given bnth to — the humble tortoise — whom a time- women as ready with the SAvord as their honoured fable has immortalised as the sisters Avith the more natural weapons of type of the slow, steady, meritorious plod­ the sex. Boadicea led the Iceni against der—the winner of the most celebrated the legions of Suetonius, with a courage stern Avager on record. What a source deserving better fortune. Athelfleda, the of comfort has that well-worn fable been warlike daughter of Alfred, directed the to the dull mediocrities of all succeed­ slaughter of the Danes in the streets of ing ages ! It Avas well enough, no doubt, Derby. Our early English queens Avere in its day, when sailors were afraid of familiar enough with the tented field and the losing sight of land; when the lumber­ clang of battle; but the Mauds, Eleanors, ing war-chariot was quoted as a type of Isabellas, and Philippas, were alien born. fearful velocity, and the sounding javelin Had the Armada succeeded in landing its imagined to be a terrible Aveapon ; but the armed freight, the Prince of Parma Avould "form" of Chelonius is hardly good have had to try conclusions with an antago­ enough for these latter days: it requires nist more than Avorthy of his steel, in the pace as well as bottom to bring folks into greatest of the Tudor sovereigns. When the front rank in the year of grace 1872. Elizabeth, marshalhng her enthusiastic For all this, the modest walk, or rather troops at Tilbury, declared she Avould be

N Charles Dickens.] BRITISH AMAZONS. [April 6,1872] 449 their general rather than dishonour should their veins could play the soldier well, befal her realm, telling them, " I am come chronicler Hall testifies. Recording the amongst you at this time, not for my OA\m battle near Naworth Castle, in 1570, be­ recreation or sport, but being resolved, in tween Lords Hunsdon and Dacres, he says, the midst and heat of battle, to live and " There were amongst the rebels many die amongst you all; to lay down for my desperate women that gave the adventure God, for my kingdom, and for my people, of their lives, and fought right stoutly." my honour and blood even to the dust;" One such plebeian virago has a triple depend upon it, not a man Avho heard her chance of escaping oblivion, her name spirit-kindling words, or saw her being enshrined in the verse of Ben Jon­ Most hravely mounted on a stately steed, son, Beaumont and Fletcher, and Butler, With truncheon in her hand, to say nothing of her having a ballad all doubted, if the occasion came, that his to herself. English Moll, as Butler calls queen's actions would justify her proud her, distinguished herself in the attempt speech, and prove she had, as she boasted, to recover Ghent from the Prince of Parma, the heart of a king, and of a king of in 1584: England too ! When captains courageous, whom Death did not daunt, For centuries after the Conquest, En­ Did march to the siege of the city of Gaunt, glishmen were never happy unless they They mustered their soldiers by two and by three, And the foremost in battle was IVIary Ambree. had some fighting on hand. If they were, for a wonder, at peace with France and Armed Avith sword and target, and encased Scotland, they contriv^ed to find something in mail, this Amazon is said to have placed to fight about among themselves—to-day herself at the head of a thousand and the crown, to-morrow the charter. Belli­ three men, and sustained an unequal com­ cose barons were never at a loss for rebellion bat with three thousand Spaniards for when every question was settled by force of seven hours, displaying wonderful skill arms, and the hardest hitter had the best and strength, and when forced to draAv off" of the argument; and while they marched her men, retiring into a castle, from Avhich to help their party or their king, their she defied the enemy, and challenged any strongholds were left in charge of their three Spaniards to try their prowess wives. This necessitated the assumption, against her single arm. Summoned to at least, of a martial spirit on the part of surrender, she spurned the off'er with con­ the lady of the castle, since, if her lord's tempt, telling the Spanish commander. friends got the worst of the bout, the No knight, sir, of England, or captain you see. victors were pretty sure to call upon her But a poor simple lass called Mary Ambree. at their earliest convenience ; and when She came out of the war unscathed, and put to the touch, many a lady of high de­ returned to England, but of her ultimate gree shoAved herself proficient in the art of fate the balladist, Avho sang so heartily of self-defence. The Northampton Dudleys her valour, is silent. OAve their curious crest—a helmeted female, Our next specimen of the British Ama­ Avith bare bosom and dishevelled hair—to zon is a modern one. Hannah Snell, an Amazon pro tem., Agnes Hotot. The the youngest daughter of a Worcester father of this plucky and stalwart girl, hosier, came of a martial-minded stock; having a dispute with a neighbour as to each of her three brothers shouldered a the ownership of a certain piece of land, musket in the king's service, and all her agreed to settle the matter by ordeal four sisters chose soldiers or sailors for of battle. When the day came, Hotot their husbands. Hannah was born upon lay ill and incapable, fretting and fuming St. George's Day, 1723, and even as a in his bed at the thought of losing his child preferred playing at soldiers to land without striking a blow for it. Miss any more feminine game. When seven­ Agnes, determined that neither father nor teen, she lost father and mother, and by foe should be disappointed, donned a suit consequence, her home, finding a new one of armour, mounted her sire's horse, ap­ with a married sister in London. Three peared at the rendezvous, and acted her years later, she was married by a Fleet part so ably, that she unhorsed her adver­ parson to a Dutch seaman, who, after ill- sary, and made him sue for mercy, where­ treating her and half starving her for upon she made herself known to the seven months, suddenly disappeared. One raortified gentleman, and rode home in would have thought Hannah w^ould have triumph. rejoiced at getting rid of her ill-condi­ That women with no gentle blood in tioned mate; but she determined to go in •^*t48*?*»*r«9^

450 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by quest of the truant, borrowed a suit of her her recovery she was sent on board the brother-in-law's clothes, and thus disguised, Tartar, pink, and served as a common found her way to Coventry. Here she en­ sailor, until turned over, in the same listed in Captain Miller's company of capacity, to the Eltham, man-of-war. The Guise's regiment, and began her cam­ smoothness of her face and chin earned her paigning with a twenty-two days' march the sobriquet of Miss Molly Gray, but when to Carlisle. Unluckily for her prospects, her new shipmates found her ready to join our heroine made a mortal enemy of one in any fun afoot, they rechristened her of the sergeants, by thAvarting him in some Hearty Jemmy. While on shore at Lisbon, dishonourable scheme, and he soon con­ she learned by the merest accident that her trived to revenge her interference by ac­ faithless husband had been executed for cusing her of neglect of duty, and getting the murder of a gentleman at Genoa. The her sentenced to receive six hundred lashes. Eltham was paid off* in 1750, and Hannah These, or rather four hundred of them, resumed her petticoats. Her story was were duly administered, if we may trust talked about, and the manager of the her biographer, although it is hard to Royalty Theatre, in Wellclose-square, in­ understand how such a punishment could duced her to appear there in several naval be inflicted without her sex being disco­ and military characters. The Duke of vered. Disgusted with this harsh treat­ Cumberland obtained her a pension of ment, Hannah left the regiment without twenty pounds, and changing her vocation troubling the authorities for a formal once more, she took a public house at discharge, and after wandering about for Wapping, attracting customers thereto a month, found herself in Portsmouth, by a sign representing a sailor and a with empty pockets. In this predicament, marine, with the legend. The Widow in she could think of nothing better than ac­ Masquerade, or the Female Warrior. The cepting his majesty's bounty again, and venture proved successful, and unmindful of ere many hours elapsed, Hannah was her first failure, Hannah married a carpenter transformed into a marine, and doing duty named Eyles, and had a son born to her, on board the sloop Swallow, attached to to Avhom a lady of fashion stood godmother, Boscawen's fleet, bound for the East and carried out a godmother's duty by Indies. paying for his education. Brave Hannah's, James Gray, as she called herself, be­ career came to a peaceful but sad end; in came popular on board the sloop on 1789 she became insane, and was removed W account of her readiness to help her mess­ to Bethlehem Hospital, where she died on mates in washing and mending their the 8th of February, 1792, at the age of clothes. After a futile attempt on Mau­ sixty-nine. •<1 ritius, the fleet made for Fort St. David's, Christian Kavanagh was the daughter of on the coast of Coromandel, and the ma­ an Irish maltster, Avho, soon after the battle rines disembarked to strengthen the army of the Boyne, went to the bad in his busi­ besieging Aracopong. Gray Avas engaged ness, and was glad to have her taken off in several skirmishes, and witnessed the his hands by an aunt, the hostess of a bloAving up of the enemy's magazine, Dublin inn. In course of time Christian which brought the siege to an end. occupied her aunt's place, and married her Marching on Pondicherry, the troops were Avaiter, Richard Welsh. Two children obliged to ford a river running breast came, and for four years her life jogged on high, in the face of the French batteries, comfortably and quietly enough. One day and our female warrior was the first Welsh went to pay the brewer, and never " man" to cross. She took her share in came back; for twelvemonths his wife picket duty, Avorked hard at trench- heard nothing of him ; then came a letter making, and when the trenches were made relating how he had been inveigled on sat in them for seven successive nights board a vessel taking recruits to Flanders, mid-deep in water; she received six shots how he had spent his money, and in despe­ in one leg, and five in the other, and then ration enlisted. Mrs. Welsh was not long was hit in the groin. Not caring to ask deciding what to do. She placed her chil­ the aid of the regimental surgeon, Hannah dren with some relatives, donned male secured the services and secrecy of a black attire, and followed her husband's ex­ woman, with whose help she extracted the ample. ball and cured the wound. Sickness next Taking kindly to drill, Christian Welsh struck her doAvn, and obliged her to go was quickly despatched to Holland, fought into the hospital for three months. Upon her first fight at Landen, received her =i N Charles Dickens.] BRITISH AMAZONS, [April 6, 1872.] 451 first wound, and was invalided for a couple to become a widow again, before St. Venant; of months. This bad beginning did not but she followed the fortunes of the army damp her ardour; on the contrary, she till the war came to an end, and her occu­ ffrcAV so attached to a military life that shepatio n Avith it. foro-ot the purpose for which she embraced Taking the advice of the Duke of Argyll, it and never troubled herself to make any Christian Jones petitioned Queen Anne, inquiries about her Richard. The following setting forth that she had served her summer, while foraging, she was taken country as a soldier for twelve years, had prisoner, but was soon exchanged and back received several wounds, and lost two with her regiment. While quartered at husbands in her majesty's service. The Gorcum, Christian had the impudence to petition, presented in person, was most make love to a burgher's daughter, actually graciously received. Perceiving that the fio-hting a duel with a rival, and wounding petitioner would soon give her another him dangerously. This rival Avas a sergeant, subject, the queen ordered fifty pounds to and but for the intercession of the girl's be given her to defray expenses, promising father the victorious Amazon would have that if the child proved a boy, he should paid dearly for her triumph; as it was, she receive a commission as soon as he was was dismissed the regiment. She immedi­ born. Great was Christian's chagrin when ately entered Lord John Hayes's dragoons, she became the mother of a girl. However, serving wath them at the capture of Namur. the queen did not forget her. A pension At the peace of Ryswick the regiment was of a shilling a day was bestowed on her, disbanded, and the she-dragoon returned and she again changed her name by mar­ to England, but never went home—her rying one Davis, a soldier, of course, mind was thoroughly unsexed, and she settling down at Chelsea and laying the hated the idea of confessing her woman­ gentry and military under contribution whenever she needed any extra comforts. hood. While engaged in nursing her husband, Upon the breaking out of the war of the Christian caught cold; this brought on Spanish succession. Christian went back to serious illness, and ended her adventurous her old regiment, and did a man's part in life on the 7th of July, 1739. This extra­ most of the engagements of Marlborough's ordinary woman was interred with military campaign of 1702-3. At the battle of Dona- honours in the burying-ground of the vert, in 1704, a ball penetrated her hip. The Soldiers' Hospital. doctors failed to extract the bullet, but nearly discovered her secret. At the battle of In 1761, a woman enlisted under the Hochstadt, she was one of a party detached name of Paul Daniel, in the hope of being to guard the prisoners; while performing sent to Germany, where her husband was this duty she came across her husband, serving in the army, but was detected by whom she had not seen for twelve years, a keen-eyed sergeant. In 1813, a farmer's and discovered that he had consoled himself daughter, hailing from Denbighshire, took hy taking a Dutch Avoman as her successor. his majesty's shilling, and entered the The irate dame, making herself known to Fifty-third Regiment, in order to be near the astonished man, gave hira a bit of her her lover. She had, however, made a mind, but relieved his fears by declaring slio-ht mistake, and Avhen she found her she had no intention of claiming her rights, SAveetheart had joined the Forty-third, the but would be a brother to him so long as damsel's martial desires evaporated, and he did not betray her confidence. This she obtained her discharge. curious bargain was faithfully kept, until a Amazons have not been unknown to the shell fractured Christian's skull at Ramil- naval service. One Ann Mills served as lies, and the surgeon who trepanned her a seaman on board the Maidstone frigate, found out the long hidden truth, and his and distinguished herself by her personal patient was of course dismissed the service. prowess in an action with a French ship. The officers saw her remarried to Welsh, In 1761, Hannah Whitney, while disport­ and subscribed a handsome sura by way of ing herself in male attire, was seized by a dowry. No longer allowed to fight, the press-gang, and sent, with other victims, to stout-hearted matron turned cook and Plymouth prison. Indignant at this treat­ sutler; the officers did not look very closely ment, the fair captive declared she was not into her doings, and she, consequently, Avhat she seemed to be, at the same time turned the change to profitable account. Her letting the authorities know their harsh­ husband was killed at Taisnieres. Eleven ness had lost them the services of a marine weeks afterwards she married a grenadier, of five years' experience. The fact that a

/ A ^ 452 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by woman fought and died on board one of '' Joan, when we w^ere talking about Nelson's ships, came to light in a curious ghosts the other night, at the rectory, you way. In 1807, a young woman, calling only said something about it in joke. What herself Rebecca Ann Johnston, Avas brought do you think seriously ?" before the lord mayor, having been found, " Seriously, my dear, I think there is no in a sad condition, intbe streets. She Avas necessity to make up one's mind, as we dressed as a sailor, and said she came from are not at all likely to be troubled with Whitby, having deserted from a collier, such vdsitations." after serving four out of the seven years' " If you saw a ghost, what would you apprenticeship to Avhich she had been think ? what would you do ?" bound by her step-father, who had likewise " Have you seen a ghost ?" I asked, to bound her mother to the sea, on which she bring matters to a point. met her death at the bombardment of She looked up at me earnestly. Copenhagen. The last female warrior of " Joan, I declare to you solemnly that I whom we have anything to say, can believe I have: not once, nor twice, but scarcely be called a British Amazon, un­ many, many times. My life has been less her having served under the British made Avretched ; my nights—oh ! how can flag entitles her to the designation. All I have such nights, and keep my life and we know about her is contained in the reason ?" following paragraph from the Annual Re­ She was trembling violently. I felt that gister of 1815 : " Amongst the crew of it must all be told noAV; stroking down the Queen Charlotte, one hundred and ten her hair, I said, as quietly as possible: guns, recently paid off*, it is now discovered " Tell me all about it, child, as distinctly was a female African, who had served as as you can; it Avill be all right, depend seaman in the royal navy for upwards of upon it." eleven years, several of Avhich she has " I will—I will tell you all. Hold me . 'i been rated able on the books of the above closer, Joan—hoAV I love your dear old ship, by the name of William Brown; and steady hand. You will hold mine when I W has served as the captain of the foretop, am dying, won't you, Joany? You Arill H highly to the satisfaction of the officers. take care of me to the last ?" c» She is a smart figure, about five feet four " Go on, my dear; you are not going to inches in height, possessed of considerable die just yet." •Mil' •Wff strength and great activity; her features " I don't know—sometimes I feel as if I CHI are rather handsome for a black, and she could not bear much more of this; but I appears to be about twenty-six years of don't want to die, it is horrible to think age. Her share of prize-money is said to of drifting out into the cold shadow-world, be considerable, respecting which she has Avhere—where they are—where she is. been several times Avithin the last fcAV days Oh ! Joan, listen to the Avind." at Somerset-place. In her manners she " Never mind the wind, my child," said exhibits all the traits of a British tar, and I, " and as to death—though it is hfe takes her grog with her late shipmates you should be thinking about—Avhat is Avith the greatest gaiety. She says she is death but going to our mother, to your a married woman, and went to sea in con­ father—to the Great, Good Father of us sequence of a quarrel with her husband, ah ?" who, it is said, has entered a caveat against " But the valley of the shadow of death, her receiving her prize-money. She de­ the king of terrors ! Those words have clares her intention of again entering the meaning, Joan. Well, I am telling you service as a volunteer." nothing; be patient, and I will. You re­ member the day we examined the cabinet, and saw her picture ? the day Mrs. Brace­ LELGAEDE'S INHERITANCE. bridge told us that sad story ?" • " Yes ; and how you waked me up at an IN TWELVE CHAPTERS. CHAPTER VII. unearthly hour the next morning." LELGARDE had forced me into an arm­ " You asked me if I had slept badly. chair, and flung herself down on a footstool Now, Joan, I am going to tell you the at my feet, turning so that she could speak history of that night, solemnly and truly. Avithout my seeing her face. These pre­ " Go on, httle woman, I am listening to parations almost frightened me. What yon-" T was she going to say ? Her beginning " I fell asleep—and how long I slept I took me by surprise. do not know—I can hardly say I awoke: 2= Charles Dickens.] LELGARDE'S INHERITANCE. [April G, 1872.] 453 that does not describe it—but I became con­ is distinct. The vision, or dream, if you scious suddenly; and what roused me Avas like, fades away, and the next thing that the sound of Aveeping—such weeping, so happens is that it is morning." despairing, so terrible, Joan, that it made " Then this has happened more than my heart stand still." once?" " My poor little pet, it was Mrs. Brace­ " More than once ? Night after night! bridge had been telling us about those Joan"—she hesitated here—" you fancy terrible hysterical weepings — you were that my liking for Mr. Seymour Kennedy over-Avrought by the story, that is all." is strange. Do you know the reason of it ? "Let me go on: next I became con­ He has power to lay the ghost." scious that I could see. There was some " What can you mean ?" sort of light, but whether from window, "I mean that the night after his visit, fire, or candle, I cannot tell you, but I and sometimes the night before, I am never sa,w—yes, distinctly, a figure by my bed­ troubled. It is strange, is it not ? I don't side; I never can remember the dress, like him really; he is most unlike all that I I have only a vague impression of some have been used to make my type of excel­ loose wrapper, of a light colour; but the lence ; but surely he must be destined in face! oh, Joan, believe me, I am not fancy­ some way to rule my fate, or why has he ing things ; it was the face of Miss Hilda's this strange influence over the curse that portrait, only older, far older, AVorn and pursues me ?" white, and bathed in tears—such a face of " A curse !—my dear, strong language ! despair, that if you really saw such a one, Those dreams shoAV a bad state of health, you would be wretched for days after­ and you ought to have mentioned them wards." before." "But, fortunately, it was only seen in a Lelgarde rose and stood before me, look­ dream, my pretty one : a dream very easily ing like a ghost herself in her white accounted for. Come, is that all?" wrapper. " I Avish it were. Now, Joan, all this "Joan," she said, "I have allowed you does not seem to me like a dream in look­ to talk about dreams, but it will not do; it ing back upon it; but what came nest, you is no dream, no fency. Something docs will say must have been. I had a vague really visit my room at night." feeling of being carried—hurried along Her voice, her tone of conviction, the dark galleries, and down cold stairs. Oh, remembrance of the servants' gossip, all this I never can make you understand. I made my blood curdle. Unimaginative as can't get at my own idea, or put it into I am, little as I "believe in ghosts, I could words. It was I who endured all this, it hardly command my voice in asking Lel­ Avas I who felt the cold, and the wretched­ garde to explain her reasons for what she ness, and the sickening, overwhelming said. terror; and yet it was not I, but another "Every night I lock my door, and I creature : and I pitied that other creature always find it locked in the morning; but —that other, that was I, and yet not I." my room is entered nevertheless. I always "Nightmare." put my candle on this chair by the bed. I " Call it so if you will. I grew more con­ have repeatedly in the morning found the scious, but the scene was changed. I stood chair moved, the candle and match-box before that cabinet. Do you remember my put on the table. You knoAv," and she saying I fancied it had a secret recess some- smiled a little, " how you used to fidget me Avhere ?" about putting my shoes side by side, and "I do." that I have got into the fixed habit of doing " Well, that recess opened at a touch— so. Well, I have found them separated, as mine, or that other's—and something was if some foot, treading perhaps in doubtful found there, something was said to me. I light, had disarranged them." have tried for hours and hours to recollect " A substantial spirit then, Lelgarde, by what, but I cannot—it is all a blank. Only your own showing." one sentence I seem to have carried away " You mean that you think some one is Avith me, wailed into my ears in a despair­ playing me a trick ? Who could be so ing moan, ' Remember, when the day comes, fiendishly cruel ? Besides, how do you that wrong can never be right.' " account for the cabinet, the secret recess, " And was this all your dream?" all those strange visions Avhich, even in the " It ends always Avith some vague feeling daytime, haunt me ? I vow to you, Joan, of cold and discomfort, but nothing more that I can never shake them off", except

/" .i ^ 454 [April 6, 1872.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND [Conducted by

when Mr. Kennedy is here. He is so amus­ CHAPTER VIII. ing and clever, and I get sometimes so much IT AA^as not till daylight was peeping in entertained, and sometimes so angry with through the chinks in the closed shutters him, that just for that time I forget my­ that Lelgarde opened her eyes with a ''^ self." freshened, invigorated look which did " And then you do not dream ? Dearest, my heart good. does not that show that it is an eff'ect of "Yes," she said, in answer to my imagination—the whole thing ?" anxious questions, "I have slept soundly " I have told myself so ; I almost believed indeed. It seems only a minute ago that it. And then I began to observe the dis­ I went to bed. Oh! dearest old Joan! arrangements in my room. Joan, it is use­ what a blessing you are to me !" less to fight against it. I am doomed to "And this heavy-treading ghost has not be hunted down—that is what I feel, that been here to-night," I said, pointing to % and nothing else. Tell me, why could I the little slippers ; " everything is just as \: not live here as a child ? What was it we left it; let us hope that it is exorcised that scared me nearly to death or mad­ for good and all." ness ?" Nevertheless, I was resolved to carry I She was kneeling before me now, look­ Lelgarde away for a little while. I must ., ing at me with her great woful eyes, full of a own that I felt almost as anxious as she dark terror which I felt almost powerless to could be to get away from Athelstanes, i fight against. the servants' talk tallying so uncomfortably "We will go away, Lelgarde," I cried; with what she herself had told me, had " you are rich, my darling; you shall not impressed on my mind a vague sense that stay here to be ill. Let us go to Italy: let everything was weird and uncanny, and I us go to Rome, and look up your old friend went about, feeling ready to jump and Harry." scream on the smallest provocation. But Things were come to a pass, indeed, when several days and nights passed, and nothing I was driven to this suggestion ! I was happened to frighten either of us. Deter­ glad to see her cheeks colour up, and a more mined not to let Lelgarde pass another natural look return to her eyes. solitary night as long as we were under " Yes, I should like that," she said. " I that roof, I had a mattress carried into a should dearly like it—but I thought I ought her room every night, and I had the satisfac­ to stay here ; it is my home, and my duties tion of seeing her look fresher and brighter ma lie here." at every aAvakening. She had ceased to hang W "Your first duty is to get well and restlessly about Miss Hilda's room, and I strong, my pet." was quite sorry, when, one afternoon, only " Perhaps so; as it is, I am getting two or three days before that fixed for weaker every day. I cannot tire myself our departure, Mrs. Bracebridge requested into sound sleeping, as I used to do; and her presence there to decide on some oh! do you wonder that I dread death ? question of new chintz or dimity, which To become myself one of that fearful, might quite as well have waited till our shadowy world !" return. " Hush, Lelgarde, we will talk no more But Mrs. Bracebridge's requests were about it to-night. You shall sleep in not easy to refuse or shirk; and she was my arms, as you did in your baby days. anxious to set all her handmaidens to their Come, let us say our prayers and go to sewing while we were away; so she dis­ bed ; and let the ghosts think twice before coursed, pointing out the tattered state of they come and torment my child, now the garniture in question, and Lelgarde she has her old Joan to take care of her." assented, her eyes all the time roving about I succeeded in making Lelgarde smile, with the hunted look which I hoped had but I must confess that I was feeling very entirely left them. I cut short the good old shaky, for all my bold speeches. Lelgarde, lady's speech as much as I could, and Avhen thoroughly exhausted, and safe in my arms, she Avas gone I tried to hurry my sister off" at was soon sleeping heavily Avith her head once to the drawing-room; but she lingered, pillowed on my shoulder; but I lay awake and, as if drawn by some irresistible attrac­ all night long, listening to the wind, trem­ tion to the ebony cabinet, opened it, and bling at the driving rain, and hearing in again began fingering it in every direction, every slamming door and creaking window Avith the perplexed look of a child over a ghostly footsteps coming to haunt my puzzle. darhng. " I cannot make it out," she murmured.

•--1 <= Charles Dickens.] LELGARDE'S INHERITANCE. [AprU 6,1872.] 455 " Sunday, to-morrow," I said, as if I had as I had often seen with what more than not heard her; "I suppose Mr. Seymour waking caution she could guide her steps. Kennedy will be here; our sudden move Evenly and softly she moved down the will take him by surprise." broad, shallow stairs; across the hall, " He has a fine evening for his journey," and into Miss Hilda's room; I following. she said, closing the cabinet, and we went Straight to the cabinet she walked—the into the drawing-room. moon filled the room with its pale That night I awoke suddenly, with the brightness, and I could see all her peculiar sensation of not waking naturally, actions distinctly. She opened the doors, with a tightening ofthe breath, and a vague she took out and laid aside, without an feeling of terror. My bed faced the door instant's hesitation, the third drawer on —and that door—that door which I had the right-hand side: she ran her fingers myself locked overnight—stood wide open, over some small ivory mouldings, which showing the black passage outside. It had formed a pattern round the pigeon-hole come then, whatever it was—this night- thus revealed; they were exactly alike, but walking horror—its haunting presence was I saw her select one, and then—not press to manifest itself also to me. We burned it, as she had always tried to do Avhen awake a night-light, and I raised myself softly, and —but draw it towards her. It remained looked at Lelgarde's bed to see if she were in her hand, a long, ivory-headed peg, and awake or not. The bed was empty ! there dropped into the aperture from Never shall I forget that moment of above a small square receptacle—a sort wild, perfectly unreasoning horror. Had of drawer, closely packed with papers. this dreadful thing the power to lure her She took them, unfolded them one by away to some fearful doom ? Could such one, looking with her fixed, unseeing things be permitted in a world God go­ eyes, straight before her all the while; verned ? folded them up and put them back, re­ These thoughts Avent whirling through placing one after the other, box, peg, my brain, while I threw myself out of and drawer, closed the cabinet, then re­ bed, and made one spring to the door; at peated, in the dull voice of a child saying the same moment the moonlight came a lesson which it does not understand ; streaming through the long line of win­ " If that day should ever come, I will dows along the gallery; and, a few yards look here, and remember that Avrong can in front of me, full in the flood of light, never be right." glided along a white-robed female figure. Then she left the room, mounted the On, on, on, with even footsteps—at the stairs, traversed the long gallery, finally, h^ead of the stairs it paused for half a to my intense relief, entered her room, re- moment, and I got a clearer view of it. locked the door, barely giving me time to Is it the spirit of Hilda Atheling ? No— slip in after her, and laid herself down in that desolate figure in Harry Goldie's pic­ her bed. I took the precaution of extract­ ture has surely stepped out of his canvas. ing the door-key, and putting it under my It is Lelgarde, Lelgarde herself 1 though pillow: and then, chilled to the bone, and the fixed, corpse-like features, the dead ex­ a good deal perplexed, but wonderfully pression of the eyes are most unlike her. comforted, I composed myself to sleep. Thanks to stout nerves and common sense, "Are you certain ? Was it really so ?" in one minute I understood the whole— Lelgarde asked incredulously, when kneel­ Lelgarde had resumed the naughty tricks ing by her bedside in the early morning I of her childhood, and was walking in her told her all the adventures of the night. sleep. All was explained now; the white Then, throwing her arm round my neck, and figure, the disarranged room, the unfas­ drawing my ear down close to her lips, tened door. In the relief of that moment she whispered: I could have laughed aloud, but I checked "Are you sure I was alone?" And I every sound that could disturb her sleep. felt her quiver with superstitious dread. The doctor's assurances, long ago uttered, " My dearest, you must use your com­ recurred to my mind, that to wake her mon sense," I said, with all the authority hastily might cost her her reason or her life. I could muster ; " you know this is nothing As I had often done in days gone by, new, only an old habit resumed." I crept after her, keeping doAvn my breath, "A habit that grew out of my first visit holding myself ready to clasp and soothe here, Joan ; and what natural power could her, should she suddenly awake, and toler­ lead me to find out that secret drawer ably free from uneasiness about her safety, Avhich I can never have seen opened ?*? > •••*fl«**4»l»*ifl

•^ 456 ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [April 6, 1872.]

" Are you sure that you never saw it was that poor, weeping, terrible woman opened ? Do you remember our conversa­ my cousin Hilda. Yes, that was when it tion the first evening that we met Mr. Sey­ —my vision, I mean—really happened, in mour Kennedy ? I begin to think that some truth, not in fancy. It was she who used recollection of your first visit has all this to come, with her terrible weeping, and time been working in your brain without wake me up at night, and bring me down your own knowledge." here, poor little, cold, scared thing, and " Are you certain that you did not dream shoAv me the secret of the hiding-place, all this yourself?" and repeat again and again those words " Well, that is a question we can soon about wrong never being right; and make settle; I wiU undertake to teach you the me promise to look here in case I should way to open the hidden drawer as you ever be mistress of Athelstanes. What taught it to me last night." ever these papers contain, remember, Joan, The breakfast-bell sounded before we I said all this before I looked at them." were ready for it: and we would not keep "Then Miss Hilda, not Miss Ethel­ the servants loitering over their work on a dreda, was your tormentor after all. But Sunday morning: but, as soon as we had surely, Lelgarde, she was bed-ridden, or, despatched the meal, we hastened to search rather, sofa-ridden; had she not lost the the ebony cabinet. I must confess that I use of her limbs ?" felt a little doubtful of my OAvn senses, " Of course she had; every one said so. when I saw its improbable aspect, and Oh ! I see this room now just as it used to Lelgarde was inclined to laugh at me, per­ be, and her waxen-looking face and hands, haps really to hide some little tremor. and draperies, all as white as snow, on this "Is this the little ivory knob? This red couch. That was the dreadful thin^; third one on the right side ? I do not be­ seeing her lie motionless all day, and then lieve it, Joan; it is impossible to get a being visited by her in this stealthy, y\ sufficient hold of it to pull it—ah !" fearful way at night; and then she wept. She broke off" suddenly; with unexpected Oh ! how is it I ever forgot that weeping ?" m force the little projection seemed almost to " She must have been a most persistent H spring to meet her fingers, and, as she humbug, or else crazy," I said, feehng any­ drew out the peg, down fell the small un­ thing but charitable towards Miss Hilda. m covered box with its hoard of tightly com­ " Let us see what she had had to turn ML*' pressed papers. her brain. I almost begin to think I can "There! was I dreaming?" I ex­ guess," said Lelgarde, growing a shade claimed ; but Lelgarde interrupted me paler. She opened the first paper, glanced with a shrill cry, half fright, half relief, over the few lines which it contained, did and clasped her fingers over her eyes. the same with the next, and then placed "I see—I see it all. I remember the them in my hands A\dth a strange sort of whole of it!" she cried, eagerly; "it all smile. " No wonder," was all she said. comes back to me. Oh, poor little crea­ The first paper was a certificate of the ture, how I suffered I how scared and ter­ marriage of Hilda Atheling with Henry rified I used to be." Hamilton at some church in the City ; the " Are you crazy, my child ? What is it second, bearing date about a year later, you remember ?" recorded the baptism of a second Henry " This drawer—that opening—was not Hamilton, at a seaside town, far away in it just what a child would remember? the West of England. And the way I was shoAvn it—the fright! The secret of Hilda Atheling's life was Oh, no wonder I had a nervous fever—no out at last. Avonder I ran away: this has reminded me of everything." On the 27th of April will be commenced "Tell me what it is, quickly, dearest; but don't get so excited about it." A NEW SERIAL STORY, Gathering the papers up in her hand, ENTITLED she said; " I do not know what these are, I never THE YELLOW FLAG. did know ; but, Joan, I know now who it BY EDIVIUND YATES, was that frightened me at Athelstanes; it Author of " BLACK SHEBP," " ]S"OBODT'S FOETUITB/* &C.

Published at the OOice, 26, Wellington St., Strand, Printed by O. WHITING, Beaufort House, Duke St., Lincoln's Inn Fioldi.