doubt, as my readers will hereafter see, which form she really
did assume), she suffered not much from the effects of the water
carriage. She had been a great traveller in her time, and, amongst
other good company into which she had fallen during her progresses,
had been admitted into the Serail at Algiers, where, according to an
old poem, it appears, she
"Passed herre tyme amydst ye throng,
As happie as ye deye was long."[40]
Nevertheless, Whittington, after he had been in her society for
a short time, began to doubt (as well he might) her supernatural
powers. He argued, from a knowledge of the sex's little weaknesses,
that if she had had the ability to have assumed any form she had
chosen, she doubtlessly would have adopted a more agreeable one
than that which she actually appeared under; but then, on the other
hand, he contended with himself, that by as much as her real claims
upon notice and attention were weak and groundless, by so much must
her magic be potent, for that unless the Devil himself had taken
possession of the rabble (at her instigation) they never could have
seen anything to admire or respect about her.
Still, however, with that good taste so perceptible in all his
conduct, Matthew, in order to keep up the dignity of his Enchantress,
and to induce spectators to respect her, never ventured to approach
her without the most marked actions of humility, never would be
covered in her presence, nor treat her with less deference than
though she had been a queen.[41]
The more Matthew began to doubt her powers, and to suspect he had
been in some sort duped, the more he raved about the excellent
qualities of his great Lady--Penthesilea, with all her "magna
virtutis documenta" at her back, was not fit to be named in the same
day with her. Berenice, Camilla, Zenobia, Valasca the Bohemian,
or Amelasunta, queen of the Ostrogoths, had neither fortitude,
nor temperance, nor chastity, nor any good qualities to put in
competition with hers. And as for the modern ladies, your Laura
Bossis or Victoria Accarambonis, or even the renowned Donna Maria
Pacheco, Bianca Hedwig, Lady of Duke Henry the beardy of Ligniz,
they would have been considered the small fry, the mere white-bait
of the sex, compared with Whittington's Enchantress.[42] Matthew
daily grew more and more uneasy about his charge: instead of
aspiring to dignity, or performing any of those astonishing feats
which he expected, she appeared addicted to vulgar habits and
coarse pleasures, attracted no respectable admirers, and passed
her time in obscure corners, choosing either woods or barns for her
lurking-places, to which she was followed only by the very lowest of
the rabble.
It was a matter of delicacy with Matthew not to hint that he should
be glad to see some proof of her powers, for by the murmurs which he
heard, in bettermost life, he apprehended that the Legislature would
interfere, in order to put a stop to her imposition.
Matthew now stood in a very awkward situation: he had brought
an unwelcome object into England, contrary to the advice of all
those about her, and in direct opposition to the feelings of all
the respectable part of the community, and had, in fact, drawn
himself into the disagreeable certainty of being wrong under all
circumstances.
If she really were what he boasted her to be, he was amenable to the
laws, which, as Blackstone says, both before and since the Conquest,
have been equally severe, ranking the crime of sorcery and of those
who consult sorcerers in the same class with heresy, and condemning
both to the flames. If she were not, he had foisted a deception upon
the mob, which they never would forgive.
This he knew, and therefore felt his full share of agreeable
sensations arising from the alternative, which presented itself
of being burned alive in one case, and universally laughed at in
the other; not but that it must be allowed that Mr. W. possessed
amongst other characteristics of fortitude, a surprisingly stoical
callousness to ridicule.
His apprehensions about the interference of the Legislature were by
no means groundless. It was evidently necessary to open the eyes of
the country to the flagrant imposition which was carrying on, and to
which poor Whittington most innocently and unintentionally had made
himself a party. The _brave_ man, however, began to feel a few fears,
which had hitherto been strangers to his _great_ heart: testimonies
of his enchantress's charlatanerie were forthcoming from every
quarter, of which she was perfectly aware, but advised Matthew to put
a good face upon the matter and brave it out, assuring him, that if
it came to evidence, she could produce a great many more witnesses of
her innocence than her opponents could bring forward of her guilt.
This mode of exculpation has been recorded by a very popular writer
of much later days.[43] He relates an anecdote where a murder was
clearly proved against a prisoner by the concurrent testimony of
seven witnesses: when the culprit was called on for his defence, he
complained of want of evidence against him; for, said he, "My Lord
and Gentlemen of the Jury, you lay great stress upon the production
of seven persons who swear that they saw me commit the crime. If
that be all, I will produce you seven times as many who will swear
that they did not see me do it." Much on a par with this was the
favourable evidence on which this eminent piece of injured innocence
relied for exculpation.[44]
The most singular part of the story is, that with all Matthew's
well-known intelligence, good sense, prudence, amiability, and
virtue, his zeal got the better of his consistency. He and his
friends who most warmly espoused the cause of the great impostor,
were those who from time immemorial had upheld the democracy of the
constitution, had rung the changes upon all the virtuous attributes
of low life, "Honest Poverty," and "The Sovereignty of the People;"
but, strange to say, in their excessive zeal for their new idol,
these equalizing politicians decided unanimously, that all the
witnesses who were to prove her misdeeds, were perjured villains and
infamous rogues, even before they had said a syllable on the subject,
because, forsooth, they were poor and shabbily clothed, as if a line
coat were essential to truth and justice, or that a poor man could
not speak truth.
Now really to me their poverty (if one may judge by the accounts
which have been handed down of them,) appears one of the strongest
proofs of their honesty; for, had they been tampered with as
Whittington insinuated, it is not improbable that some part of their
earnings would have been expended in the purchase of such habits as
might at least have protected them from insult in the streets.
There was one objection to their evidence, which, inasmuch as it is
patriotic, is honourable--they were foreigners, and therefore not to
be believed.----Now, touching the justice of this sweeping decision
much may be said; and it is by no means unpleasing to see that even
in these days there is still a national prejudice against foreign
habits and manners; the looseness of conduct, and general want of
delicacy of the continental nations, are at variance with the pure
and better regulated habits of our countrymen and countrywomen;
and in Whittington's days it clearly appears that morality had so
firmly established itself in England, that a foreigner was not to be
credited on oath.
In the instance of this nondescript lady, this feeling certainly
had not so much weight as it might have had in many others, nor was
the expression of it over-gallant, considering that she herself
was a foreigner and educated, if St. Cas and other authors are to
be believed, in one of the most licentious schools of continental
incontinence.
One strong argument against the credibility of these persons was the
general venality of all the natives of the country they came from,
which was so flagrant that a man might be bought for five shillings
to swear any thing. The witnesses which the Cat lady intended,
it appears, to produce in her defence, were all from the same
nation--this objection, unfortunately for her, tells both ways.
Be that as it may, it appears pretty evident, that at the period
to which I am now alluding Whittington, whether voluntarily or not
I cannot pretend to determine, was separated from the object of
all his hopes and fears;--indeed, how the separation between them
was brought about has puzzled all who have hitherto considered the
subject: some writers suppose that she never had any superior or
supernatural powers, but that she was altogether an impostor, others
positively maintain (particularly one) that she was a person of
prudence, wisdom, delicacy, and virtue.[45]
Those who deny her existence at _any time_ in human shape are by no
means few; amongst their number is, as we have seen, my excellent
friend Doctor Snodgrass: these aver with every appearance of truth,
that she was neither more nor less than a domestic cat, but that she
was stolen from Whittington by the monks of the monastery "_Sancti
Stephani apud Westmonasteriensis_," for the purpose of catching
certain great rats which infested their chapel and the adjoining
house, and that the poor Alderman cut a very ridiculous figure when
deprived of his favourite raree-show.
Some, on the other hand, incline to believe that Mr. Whittington
got sick of his bargain, and assert that what with caterwauling and
bringing crowds of followers into the gutters of his residence, she
turned out to be so troublesome an inmate, that he got rid of her as
soon as he could, and prevailed on an old maid in the neighbourhood
to take care of her.[46]
For me, however, till now, has been reserved the important, the
enviable task of unravelling all the mysteries in which this subject
has been hitherto involved. To me it is granted to reconcile all
contending opinions, and to simplify all the difficulties which have
baffled my predecessors in the attainment of truth. I am enabled, as
I firmly believe, beyond the power of contradiction, to declare to
the world _who_ the Cat was, and _what_ she was. I am competent to
display in its true colours the character of Mr. Matthew Whittington,
to illustrate and make clear his views, his motives, and the other
eight points which I have before noticed to be in dispute, even to
the cause and nature of his death, an event hitherto equally obscure
with his birth.
Gifted as I am with this power to illuminate the literary world, is
it not natural that I should feel anxious to make use of it for their
advantage? One consideration alone checks me in my desire to afford
the purchasers of this Tentamen all the information I possess; that
consideration I trust I shall not be censured for attending to. I
confess it is a prudential one, inasmuch as were I in this small
specimen to give my readers all the details, narratives, and general
information I possess, I am apprehensive that the work itself would
not meet with that encouragement which is at present promised, and
which alone can repay me for the labour of years, and that ceaseless
anxiety which an undertaking so diffusely elaborate naturally has
entailed upon its author.
[Illustration: (end of section icon)]
MISCELLANIES, IN VERSE AND PROSE.
MISCELLANIES.
MR. WARD'S ALLEGORICAL PICTURE OF WATERLOO.[47]
We have the highest respect for the arts and for artists; we are
perfectly aware of the numerous qualifications requisite for a
painter--we know and feel the difficulty, and duly consider the
quantity of talent necessary to the painting even of a bad picture.
The years of probationary labour expended before even the palette
comes into use, the days and nights of watching, and toil after it
is assumed, and the variety of chemical, mechanical, and scientific
knowledge which must be brought to bear upon a subject before the
idea of the painter can be transferred to the canvas.
These feelings, and this respect for the art, and professors of
painting, make us slow to censure; and, although we have long had
our eyes upon some of the public exhibitions of the season, we have
refrained from commenting upon them till the common curiosity of the
town had repaid, in some measure, the care and anxiety of those in
whose studies they had their origin.
Mr. Haydon, a sonnet-writing Cockney, ranking high in the
administration of the smoky kingdom of Cockaigne, distinguished
himself last year, by exhibiting a picture of the "Entry into
Jerusalem," which, like Tom Thumb's Cow, was "larger than the largest
size." Elated with the success of this immense performance, (of which
one group only was at all finished,) Mr. Haydon, this year, put forth
a work representing "the Agony in the Garden:" the divine subject
saved the silly artist, and we were upon that account silent; else,
for Mr. Haydon, who wears his shirt collars open, and curls his hair
in long ringlets, because Rafaele did so, and who, if it did not
provokingly turn down over his mouth, would turn up his nose at the
Royal Academy, indeed we should have felt very little tenderness.
But with respect to Mr. Ward's allegorical picture of Waterloo, we
had different feelings--the picture had good principle about it,
and the weeks, months, and years which have been bestowed upon it
demanded some recompense; the idlers of Piccadilly did not feel the
occasional disbursement of a shilling. In pleasant society Ward's
exhibition-room was as good a place wherein to "laugh a sultry hour
away" as any other; and anxious that Mr. Ward, after having expended
so much time, canvas, and colour, should get something by it, we
have patiently let him draw his reward from the pockets of those
good easy folks, who read newspaper puffs and believe them; and who
go and vow all over London that a picture is wonderful and sublime,
merely because the painter, at the trifling charge of seven shillings
and sixpence, has thought proper to tell them that it is so, in the
public journals.
But when we find that this picture was painted for the directors
of the British Institution, founded "for the express purpose
of encouraging the Fine Arts," and is about to be engraved and
disseminated throughout the country, as a specimen of the works taken
under the especial care of that Institution; it really becomes a duty
to save the nation from a charge of bad taste so heavy as must arise
out of the patronage of such a ludicrous daub.
This may be a picture painted for the Institution at their desire,
and the execution of it is no proof of their want of judgment,
because they desired to have such a picture, and they have got it,
and we have thereby no proof of their approbation; but since they
have got themselves into a scrape, they certainly should not allow a
print to be made from it, even if they suffer the painting to remain
in existence.
If it be possible to imagine one thing upon earth more irresistibly
ridiculous than another, it is the composition of this enormous
thing--the size of it is thirty-five feet by twenty-one--in the
centre appears the Duke of Wellington in a pearl car--under his
feet are legs and arms, and heads in glorious confusion--before him
rides a pretty little naked boy upon a lion--over him in the clouds
are a group of young gentlemen with wings, representing the Duke's
victories, who look like Mrs. Wilkinson's Preparatory Academy turned
out for a bathe; and amongst these pretty little dears are Peace and
Plenty, and a great angel overshadowing the whole party.
But this very absurd jumble (at which, through a little hole, Blucher
and Platoff are looking with some surprise,) is by no means the
most ludicrous part of the affair--in the clouds are two persons,
called by Mr. Ward, Ignorance and Error, (one of whom has a dirty
handkerchief tied over his eyes,) beneath whom are dogs' heads with
wings--a tipsy-looking cock-eyed owl trampling a heavy stone Osiris
into the earth--a little calf without a head--a red night-cap--a
watchman's rattle--an old crow--Paine's "Rights of Man"--Voltaire's
works, a sick harpy--a devil sucking his fingers--a hobby-horse's
head, and a heap of chains--here is the allegory--all of which we
shall attempt to explain in Mr. Ward's own words, for he is an author
as well as a painter, and, absurd as are the productions of his
pencil, the nonsense of his pen is, of the two, the most exquisite.
In the foreground of the picture is a skeleton evidently afflicted
with the head-ache, before whom runs a little wide-mouthed waddling
frog with a long tail, and beyond these a group which defies
description.
The horses (particularly the near wheeler) have a very droll and
cunning expression about the eye; but the four persons leading them,
whether considered as to their drawing or colouring, are beneath all
criticism: a pupil of six months' standing ought to have been flogged
for doing anything so bad.
In short, the whole thing in its kind closely resembles the overgrown
transparencies painted to be stuck up at Vauxhall, or the Cumberland
Gardens, or for public rejoicings, and ought, as soon as it has
answered its purpose like those, be obliterated, and the stuff worked
up for something else.
In a book published upon this performance, Mr. Ward modestly says,
that he is not ambitious to be considered an author, and adds, that
there exists some insuperable objection to his ever being one; but
still, he professes to attempt in his own simple style an explanation
of his own ideas. He feels quite confident of public favour and
indulgence, and then gives us his view of the thing:--as a specimen
of this said style, we shall quote his notions about envy--its
beauty, we confess, is evident--its simplicity we are afraid is
somewhat questionable.
"Where shall we find a safe retreat for envied greatness, from
the miry breath or slander's feverish tongue; dark in the bosom
of the ocean's fathomless abyss, on the cloud-cleaving Atlas,
or at the extremity of east or west. High on the gilded dome,
or palace pinnacle, should merit's fairest hard-earned honours
shine, once seated there, the sickly eye of speckled Jealousy,
or Envy's snaky tribe, with iron nerve, and cold in blood, well
scan the mark, and the envenomed javelin cast, with secret but
unerring aim, and what is to screen him from the foul attack? The
shield of Worth intrinsic, bound about with truth, and conscious
innocence, and where that lives, all other covering only tends to
hide its blushing beauties from the rising sun, and dim the face
of day.
"So the firm oak's deep roots, eccentric, winding through the
heaving earth, fast bound and chasmed deep, with many a widening
gap, by blazing Sol's mid ray, at summer's sultry noon, opposes
strength to strength; or round the impervious rocks, in weighty
balance to its broad branch, and highly-lifted head, up to
the mountain's summit, shrinks not from the prospect of the
blackening storm, and while it sends its sweeping arms around
over the circling numerous acres, shadowing under its expanded
greatness, fears not the threatening blast, nor for protection
looks to man. Too great to need a screen; it were children's
play to throw a mantle over its full broad majesty, to try to
save its foliage luxuriant from the rude element. The attempt
would be as weedy muslin's cobweb insipidity; its flimsy partial
covering would only hide its full matured richness; and the first
breeze of whirlwind's opening rising tempest, tear from the
disdainful surface to streaming raggedness the feeble effort, and
open to the eye the golden fruit, freshening by the tempest, and
glittering in the storm."
We know very little of human nature, if Mr. Ward, in spite of his
disclaiming any wish to be considered as an author, does not think
all this very fine. By way of simply explaining his allegory, it is
particularly useful;--of Mr. Ward's view of the necessity of such
explanation we may assure ourselves by his very apposite allusion
to Milton, Walter Scott, Homer, and Burn (as he calls him). This
paragraph we must quote:--
"It is contended by some, that a picture should be made up only
of such materials as are capable of telling its own story;
such confinement would shut out the human mind from a depth of
pursuit in every branch of art. Poetry requires prose fully to
explain its meaning, and to create an interest; for who would be
without the notes in Walter Scott's 'Lay of the Last Minstrel,'
or a glossary to the poems of Burn, the argument to Milton
or Homer? If then it be necessary to make use of language to
explain poetry, should not the same medium be used to explain
personification? It has been thought necessary on the stage to
send a person between the acts as a comment on the past, and a
preface to the future, and can we, I ask, understand what is
going on even in nature, by dumb show? If we see a crowd of
people assembled in the streets, do we expect that the action and
expression should inform us the cause of their congregating in an
unusual manner? Experience proves more than volumes of argument.
We ask 'what does all this mean?'"
To which we most candidly reply, we really do not know.
Mr. Ward then proceeds in the following manner:--
"Wellington has his hand upon the tri-coloured cross, on the
shield of Britannia, expressive of the Christian's emblem,
and the three colours of which it is composed are the colours
answerable to the three principles in Trinity!!!
Red is the first fiery principle in the Godhead;
Blue the second in the Saviour, or Mediator;
White the third in the Dove of Peace."
This ingenious explanation of the mysteries of the Union Jack must be
highly satisfactory to every thinking Englishman: there is, indeed,
but one drawback to the holy pleasure we feel at Mr. Ward's sublime
discovery, which is, that the Revolutionary flag of France was
composed of the same three colours.
The enlightened artist then informs us--speaking of Britannia, "that
the twisted lock of hair _laying_ in front upon her bosom, and over
the right arm, is emblematic of"--what do you suppose, reader?--"of
the spirit of justice."
"Justice, stern and unrelenting, whose sword is forward, and
whose plaited hair is answerable to that sword, and makes in the
person of Justice the number three, as expressive of the Trinity,
or the whole of Godhead manifested in the awful administration of
justice. That sword is serpentine, as expressive of flame, Deity
in its principle of fire."
This is "finely confused, and very alarming;" but observe:--
"With the other hand she points through the medium of the Trident
to the Trinity in Unity, commanding him to look up to Providence
as alone able to give success to his efforts."
This puzzles us; pointing through the medium of "the Trident" appears
to us to be something like looking at the Sun through the medium of
a toasting-fork; but we may be wrong.
Mr. Ward then continues:--
"The cat and broken spear are emblems of rebellion and
anarchy."--P. 11.
"The British Lion is majestically observing the effects of his
own operations; his countenance shows no symptom of the reign of
passion--anger is alone signified by the movement of his tail."
For this illustration of natural history Mr. Ward appears to be
indebted to Mathews, who, in his "At Home," told a capital story of a
showman and one of the noble beasts in question, in which, while his
head is in the lion's mouth, he anxiously inquires of a by-stander,
"Doth he wag his tail?" That bit of waggery being indicative (as Mr.
Ward has comically painted it) of the ire of lions generally.
Mr. Ward, as matter of information, tells us, page 19, that "the
palm-tree grows to the height of five hundred feet, and bears the
date and cocoa-nut." What date the trees Mr. Ward alludes to might
have borne we cannot say; but certain it is, that modern palms
have left off growing to the height of five hundred feet; which,
considering it to be about three times the height of the Monument,
and one hundred feet more than the height of St. Paul's, is not so
very surprising.
The following information, conveyed in page 20, is likely to be very
interesting from its importance:--
"Juvenile antagonists in the streets dare not strike an unfair
blow, take the other by the hair, or maltreat him when fallen
upon the ground. In such case, he not only loses his battle, but
also--his character!!!"