_Strickland_.
"These doings in my house distract me.
I met a fine gentleman, when I inquired who
He was--why, he came to Clarinda. I met
A footman too, and he came to Clarinda.
My wife had the character of a virtuous
Woman--"
_Suspicious Husband_.
"Let us no more contend
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden in our share of woe."
MILTON.
I do not know a spot on the globe which astonishes and delights, upon
your first landing, as the island of Madeira. The voyager embarks, and
is in all probability confined to his cabin, suffering under the
dreadful protraction of seasickness. Perhaps he has left England in the
gloomy close of the autumn, or the frigid concentration of an English
winter. In a week, or even in a shorter period, he again views that
terra firma which he had quitted with regret, and which in his
sufferings he would have given half that he possessed to regain. When
he lands upon the island, what a change! Winter has become summer, the
naked trees which be left are exchanged for the most luxuriant and
varied foliage, snow and frost for warmth and splendour; the scenery of
the temperate zone for the profusion and magnificence of the tropics;
fruit which he had never before seen, supplies for the table unknown to
him; a bright sky, a glowing sun, hills covered with vines, a deep-blue
sea, a picturesque and novel costume; all meet and delight the eye, just
at the precise moment, when to have been landed even upon a barren
island would have been considered as a luxury. Add to all this, the
unbounded hospitality of the English residents, a sojourn too short to
permit satiety and then is it to be wondered that the island of Madeira
is a "green spot" in the memory of all those who land there, or that
they quit it with regret?
The Bombay Castle had not been two hours at anchor before the passengers
had availed themselves of an invitation from one of the English
residents, and were quartered in a splendid house, which hooked upon a
square and one of the principal churches in the city of Funchal. While
the gentlemen amused themselves at the extensive range of windows with
the novelty of the scene, and the ladies retired to their apartments to
complete the hasty toilet of their disembarkation, Captain Drawlock was
very busy in the counting-house below, with the master of the house.
There were so many pipes of Madeira for the Honourable Company; so many
for the directors' private cellars, besides many other commissions for
friends, which Captain Drawlock had undertaken to execute; for at that
period Madeira wine had not been so calumniated as it latterly has been.
A word upon this subject.--I am a mortal enemy to every description of
humbug; and I believe there is as much in the medical world as in any
other. Madeira wine had for a century been in high and deserved
reputation, when on a sudden some fashionable physician discovers that
it contained more acid than sherry. Whether he was a sleeping partner
in some Spanish house, or whether he had received a present of a few
pipes of sherry, that he might turn the scale of public favour towards
that wine, I know not; but certain it is, that it became fashionable
with all medical gentlemen to prescribe sherry; and when once any thing
becomes fashionable, _c'est une affaire decide_.
I do not pretend to be much of a pathologist; but on reading Mr F---'s
analysis on the component parts of wine, I observed that in one hundred
parts there are perhaps twenty-two parts of acid in Madeira, and
nineteen in sherry; so that, in fact, if you reduce your glass of
Madeira wine, just _one sip_ in quantity, you will imbibe no more acid
than in a full glass of sherry; and when we consider the variety of
acids in sugar and other compounds, which abound in culinary
preparations, the fractional quantity upon which has been grounded the
abuse of Madeira wine, appears to be most ridiculous.
But if not a pathologist, I have a most decided knowledge of what is
good wine; and if the gout should some day honour me with a visit, I
shall at least have the consolation to know that I have by potation most
honestly _earned_ it.
But allowing that the medical gentlemen are correct, still their good
intentions are frustrated by the knavery of the world; and the result of
their prescriptions is, that people drink much more acid than they did
before. I do every justice to good old sherry when it does make its
appearance at table; it is a noble wine when aged and unsophisticated
from its youth; but for once that you meet with it genuine, you are
twenty times disappointed. When Madeira wine was in vogue, the island
could not produce the quantity required for consumption, and the vintage
from the north side of the island, or of Teneriffe, was substituted.
This adulteration no doubt was one cause of its losing its well
established reputation. But Madeira wine has a quality which in itself
proves its superiority over all other wines--namely, that although no
other wine can be passed off as Madeira, yet with Madeira the
wine-merchants may imitate any other wine that is in demand. What is
the consequence? that Madeira, not being any longer in request as
Madeira, now that sherry is the "correct thing," and there not being
sufficient of the latter to meet the increased demand, most of the wine
vended as sherry is made from the inferior Madeira wines. Reader, if
you have ever been in Spain, you may have seen the Xerez or sherry wine
brought from the mountains to be put into the cask. A raw goat-skin,
with the neck-part and the four legs sewed up, forms a leathern bag,
containing perhaps from fifteen to twenty gallons. This is the load of
one man, who brings it down on his shoulder exposed to the burning rays
of the sun. When it arrives, it is thrown down on the sand, to swelter
in the heat with the rest and remains there probably for days before it
is transferred into the cask. It is this proceeding which gives to
sherry that peculiar leather twang which distinguishes it from other
wines--a twang easy to imitate by throwing into a cask of Cape wine a
pair of old boots, and allowing them to remain a proper time. Although
the public refuse to drink Madeira, as Madeira, they are in fact
drinking it in every way disguised--as port, as sherry, etcetera; and it
is a well-known fact that the poorer wines from the north side of the
island are landed in the London Docks, and shipped off to the Continent,
from whence they reappear in bottles as "peculiarly fine flavoured
hock!"
Now, as it is only the indifferent wines which are thus turned into
sherry,--and the more inferior the wine, the more acid it contains,--I
think I have made out a clear case that people are drinking more acid
than they did before this wonderful discovery of the medical gentlemen,
who have for some years led the public by the nose.
There are, however, some elderly persons of my acquaintance who are not
to be dissuaded from drinking Madeira, but who continue to destroy
themselves by the use of this acid, which perfumes the room when the
cork is extracted. I did represent to one of them, that it was a
species of suicide, after what the doctors had discovered; but he
replied, in a very gruff tone of voice, "May be, sir; but you can't
teach an old dog new tricks!"
I consider that the public ought to feel very much indebted to me for
this _expose_. Madeira wine is very low, while sherry is high in price.
They have only to purchase a cask of Madeira and flavour it with
Wellington boots or ladies' shippers, as it may suit their palates. The
former will produce the high-coloured, the latter the pale sherry.
Further, I consider that the merchants of Madeira are bound to send me a
letter of thanks, with a pipe of Bual, to prove its sincerity. Now I
recollect Stoddart did promise me some wine when he was last in England;
but I suppose he has forgotten it.
But from the produce I must return to the island and my passengers. The
first day of their arrival they eat their dinner, took their coffee, and
returned to bed early to enjoy a comfortable night after so many of
constant pitching and tossing. The next morning the ladies were much
better, and received the visits of all the captains of the India ships,
and also of the captain of the frigate who escorted them.
The officers of the Bombay Castle had been invited to dinner; and the
first-mate not being inclined to leave the ship, Newton had for one
accepted the invitation. On his arrival he discovered in the captain of
the frigate his former acquaintance, Captain Carrington, in whose ship
he had obtained a passage from the West Indies, and who on the former
being paid off had been appointed to the command of the Boadicea,
Captain Carrington was delighted to meet Newton; and the attention which
he paid to him, added to the encomiums bestowed when Newton was out of
bearing, raised him very high in the opinion, not only of Captain
Drawlock, but also in the estimation of the ladies. At the request of
Captain Carrington Newton was allowed to remain on shore till their
departure from the island; and from this circumstance he became more
intimate with the ladies than he would in all probability have otherwise
been in the whole course of the voyage. We must pass over the gallop up
to Nostra Senhora da Monte, an expedition opposed by Captain Drawlock on
the score of his responsibility; but he was over-ruled by Captain
Carrington, who declared that Newton and he were quite sufficient
convoy. We must pass over the many compliments paid to Isabel Revel by
Captain Carrington, who appeared desperately in hove after an
acquaintance of four-and-twenty hours, and who discovered a defect in
the Boadicea which would occupy two or three days to make good, that he
might be longer in her company; but we will not pass over one
circumstance which occurred during their week's sojourn at this
delightful island.
A certain Portuguese lady of noble birth had been left a widow with two
daughters, and a fine estate to share between them. The daughters were
handsome; but the estate was so much handsomer, that it set all the
mandolins of the Portuguese inamoratos strumming under the windows of
the lady's abode from sunset to the dawn of day.
Now it did so occur that a young English clerk in a mercantile house,
who had a fresh complexion and a clean shirt to boast of (qualifications
unknown to the Portuguese), won the heart of the eldest daughter; and
the old lady, who was not a very strict Catholic, gave her consent to
this heretical union. The Catholic priests, who had long been trying to
persuade the old lady to shut up her daughters in a convent, and endow
the church with her property, expressed a holy indignation at the
intended marriage. The Portuguese gentlemen, who could not brook the
idea of so many fair hills of vines going away to a stranger were
equally indignant: in short, the whole Portuguese population of the
island were in arms; but the old lady, who had always contrived to have
her way before her husband's death, was not inclined to be thwarted now
that she was her own mistress; and, notwithstanding threats and
expostulations from all quarters, she awaited but the arrival of an
English man-of-war that the ceremony might be performed, there being at
that time no Protestant clergyman on the island; for the reader must
know that a marriage on board of a king's ship, by the captain duly
entered in the log-book, is considered as valid as if the ceremony were
performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury.
I once married couple on board of a little ten-gun brig of which I
condescended to take the command, to oblige the first lord of the
Admiralty; offered, I believe to _provide_ for me, and rid the Board of
all future solicitations for employment or promotion.
It was one of my sailors, who had come to a determination to make an
honest woman of Poll and an ass of himself, at one and the same time.
The ceremony took place on the quarter-deck. "Who gives this woman
away?" said I, with due emphasis, according to the ritual. "I do,"
cried the boatswain in a gruff voice, taking the said lady by the arm
and shoving her towards me, as if he thought her not worth keeping.
Every thing went on seriously, nevertheless. The happy pair were
kneeling down on the union-jack, which had been folded on the deck in
consideration of the lady's knees, and I was in the middle of the
blessing, when two pigs which we had procured at St. Jaco's, being them
off that island (creatures more like English pigs on stilts than any
thing else, unless you could imagine a cross between a pig and a
greyhound), in the lightness of their hearts and happy ignorance of
their doom, took a frisk, as you often see pigs do on shore, commenced a
run from forward right aft, and galloping to the spot where we were all
collected, rushed against the two just made one, destroying their centre
of gravity, and upsetting them; and, indeed, destroying the gravity and
upsetting the seriousness of myself and the whole of the ship's company.
The lady recovered her legs, damned the pigs, and, taking her husband's
arm, hastened down the hatchway; so that I lost the kiss to which I was
entitled for my services. I consoled myself by the reflection that,
"please the pigs," I might be more fortunate the next time that I
officiated in my clerical capacity. This is a digression I grant, but I
cannot help it; it is the nature of man to digress. Who can say that he
has through life kept in the straight path? This is a world of
digression; and I beg that critics will take no notice of mine, as I
have an idea that my digressions in this work are as agree able to my
readers, as my digressions in life have been agreeable to myself.
When Captain Carrington anchored with his convoy in Funchal roads,
immediate application was made by the parties for the ceremony to be
performed on board of his ship. It is true that, as Mr Ferguson had
arrived, it might have taken place on shore; but it was considered
advisable, to avoid interruption and insult, that the parties should be
under the sanctuary of a British man-of-war. On the fourth day after
the Boadicea's arrival the ceremony was performed on board of her by Mr
Ferguson; and the passengers of the Bombay, residing at the house of Mr
---, who was an intimate friend of the bridegroom, received and accepted
the invitation to the marriage-dinner. The feast was splendid, and
after the Portuguese custom. The first course was _boiled_: it
consisted of boiled beef, boiled mutton, boiled hams, boiled tongues,
boiled bacon, boiled fowls, boiled turkeys, boiled sausages, boiled
cabbages, boiled potatoes, and boiled carrots. Duplicates of each were
ranged in opposition, until the table groaned with its superincumbent
weight. All were cut up, placed in one dish, and handed round to the
guests. When they drank wine, every glass was filled, and every body
who filled his glass was expected to drink the health of every guest
separately and by name before he emptied it. The first course was
removed, and the second made its appearance all roasted. Roast beef,
roast veal, roast mutton, roast lamb, roast joints of pork, roasted
turkeys, roasted fowls, roasted sausages, roasted every thing; the
centre dish being a side of a large hog, rolled up like an enormous
fillet of veal. This too was done ample justice to by the Portuguese
part of the company, at least, and all was cleared away for the dessert,
consisting of oranges, melons, pine-apples, guavas, citrons, bananas,
peaches, strawberries, apples, pears, and indeed of almost every fruit
which can be found in the whole world, all of which appear to naturalise
themselves at Madeira. It was now supposed by the uninitiated that the
dinner was over; but not so; the dessert was cleared away, and on came
an _husteron proteron_ medley of pies and puddings, in all their
varieties, smoking hot, boiled and baked, custards and sweetmeats,
cheese and olives, fruits of all kinds preserved, and a hundred other
things, from which the gods preserve us! At last the feast was really
over; the Portuguese picked their teeth with their forks, and the wine
was circulated briskly. On such an occasion as the marriage of her
daughter, the old lady had resolved to take a pipe of Madeira, which
was, at the very least, fifty years old, very fine in flavour, but, from
having been so long in the wood, little inferior in strength to genuine
Cogniac. The consequence was, that many of the gentlemen became noisy
before the dinner was over; and their mirth was increased to positive
uproar upon a message being sent by the bishop, ordering upon pain of
excommunication, that the ceremony should proceed no further. The
ladies retired to the withdrawing room; the gentlemen soon followed; but
the effects of the wine were so apparent upon most of them, that Captain
Drawlock summoned Newton to his assistance, and was in a state of
extreme anxiety until his "responsibilities" were safe at home. Shortly
afterwards, Captain Carrington and those who were the least affected, by
persuasion or force, removed the others from the house; and the bridal
party were left to themselves, to deliberate whether they should or
should not obey the preposterous demands of the reverend bishop.
Captain Carrington was excessively fond of a joke, and never lost the
opportunity when it occurred; now it happened, that in the party invited
there was a merchant of the name of Sullivan, who, upon his last visit
to England, had returned with a very pretty, and at the same time, a
very coquettish young lady as his wife. It happened, in the casualties
of a large dinner party, that the old colonel (Ellice was his name, if I
have not mentioned it before) was seated next to her, and, as usual, was
remarkably attentive. Mr Sullivan, like many other gentlemen, was very
inattentive to his wife, and, unlike most Irishmen, was very jealous of
her. The very marked attention of the colonel had not escaped his
notice; neither did his fidgeting upon this occasion escape the notice
of those about him, who were aware of his disposition. The poor colonel
was one of those upon whose brain the wine had taken the most effect,
and it was not until after sundry falls, and being again placed upon his
legs, that he had been conveyed home, between Captain Carrington and Mr
---, the merchant at whose house the party from the Bombay Castle were
residing. The ensuing morning he did not make his appearance at
breakfast; and the gentlemen residing on the island, commenting upon the
events of the evening before, declared in a joking way that they should
not be surprised at Mr Sullivan sending him a challenge in the course
of the morning; that was, if he was up so soon, as he had quitted the
house in a greater state of inebriety than even the colonel. It was
upon this hint that Captain Carrington proposed to have some amusement;
and having arranged with one of the junior partners of the house, he
went into the room of the colonel, whom he found still in bed.
"Well, colonel, how do you find yourself?" said Captain Carrington, when
he had roused him.
"Oh! very bad indeed: my head is ready to split: never felt such a
sensation in my head before, except when I was struck with a spent ball
at the battle of--"
"I am very sorry for your headache, colonel, but more sorry that the
wine should have played you such a trick last night."
"Trick indeed!" replied the colonel; "I was completely overcome: I do
not recollect a word that passed after I had quitted the dinner table."
"Are you serious? Do you not recollect the scene with Mrs Sullivan?"
"Mrs Sullivan! My dear sir, what scene? I certainly paid every
attention due to a very pretty woman; but I recollect no further."
"Not the scene in the drawing-room?"
"God bless me!--No--I do not even recollect ever going into the
drawing-room! Pray tell me what I said or did: I hope nothing
improper."
"Why that depends very much whether a lady likes it or not: but in the
presence of so many people--"
"Merciful powers! Captain Carrington, pray let me know at once what
folly it was that I committed."
"Why, really, I am almost ashamed to enter into particulars: suffice to
say, that you used most unwarrantable freedom towards her."
"Is it possible?" cried the colonel.--"Now, Captain Carrington, are you
not joking?"
"Ask this gentleman; he was present."
The assertion of the captain was immediately corroborated, and the
colonel was quite aghast.
"Excuse me, gentlemen, I will run immediately--that abominable wine; I
must go and make a most ample apology. I am bound to do it, as a
gentleman, as an officer, and as a man of honour."
Captain Carrington and his confederate quitted the room, satisfied with
the success of their plot. The colonel rose, and soon afterwards made
his appearance. He swallowed a cup of coffee, and then proceeded on his
visit, to make the _amende honorable_.
When Mr Sullivan awoke from the lethargy produced from the stupefying
effects of the wine, he tried to recollect the circumstances of the
preceding evening; but he could trace no further than to the end of the
dinner, after which his senses had been overpowered. All that he could
call to memory was, that somebody had paid great attention to his wife,
and that what had passed afterwards was unknown. This occasioned him to
rise in a very jealous humour; and he had not been up more than an hour,
when the colonel sent up his card, requesting, as a particular favour
that the lady would admit him.
The card and messenger were taken by the servant to Mr Sullivan, whose
jealousy was again roused by the circumstance; and wishing to know if
the person who had now called was the same who had been so attentive to
his wife on the preceding evening, and the motives of the call, he
requested that the colonel might be shown in, without acquainting his
wife, whom he had not yet seen, with his arrival. The colonel, who
intended to have made an apology to the lady without the presence of a
third person, least of all of her husband, ascended the stairs,
adjusting his hair and cravat, and prepared with all the penitent
assurance and complimentary excuses of a too ardent lover. The fact
was, that, although the colonel had expressed to Captain Carrington his
regret and distress at the circumstance, yet, as an old Adonis, he was
rather proud of this instance of juvenile indiscretion. When therefore
he entered the room, and perceived, instead of the lady. Mr Sullivan
raised up to his utmost height, and looking any thing but good humoured,
he naturally started back, and stammered out something which was
unintelligible. His behaviour did not allay the suspicions of Mr
Sullivan, who requested, in a haughty tone, to be informed of the reason
why he had been honoured with a visit. The colonel became more
confused, and totally losing his presence of mind, replied:--
"I called, sir,--on Mrs Sullivan,--to offer an apology for my conduct
last night; but as I perceive that she is not visible, I will take a
more favourable opportunity."
"Any apology you may have to offer to my wife, sir," replied Mr
Sullivan, "may be confided to me. May I inquire the circumstances which
have occurred to render an apology necessary?" and Mr Sullivan walked
to the door and closed it.
"Why, really, Mr Sullivan, you must be aware that circumstances may
occur," replied the colonel, more confused: "the fact is, that I
consider it my duty, as a gentleman and a man of honour, to express my
regrets to your fair lady."
"My fair lady! for what, sir, may I ask?"
"Why, sir," stammered the colonel, "to state the truth, for, as a
gentleman, and a man of honour, I ought not to be ashamed to acknowledge
my error--for--the very improper behaviour which I was guilty of last
night."
"Improper behaviour, sir!--damnation! with my wife?" roared Mr
Sullivan, in his rage. "What behaviour, sir? and when, sir?"
"Really, sir, I was too much affected with the wine to know any thing
which passed. I did hope to have addressed the lady in person on the
subject, and I came here with that intention."
"I dare say you did, sir?"
"But," continued the colonel, "as it appears I am not to have that
honour, I consider that I have done my duty in requesting that you will
convey my sentiments of regret for what has passed;--and, now, sir, I
wish you a good morning."
"Good morning," retorted the husband, with a sneer; "and observe, sir, I
will not trouble you to call again, William, show this gentleman outside
the door."
The colonel, who was descending the stairs, turned round to Mr Sullivan
at the latter part of his speech, and then, as if thinking better of it,
he resumed his descent, and the door was immediately closed upon him.
Mr Sullivan, as soon as he was satisfied that the colonel was shut out,
immediately repaired to his wife's dressing-room, where he found her
reading.
"Madam," said he, fixing his eyes sternly on her, "I have been informed
of what took place last night."
"I'm sure I do not know what that was," replied the lady, coolly,
"except that you were very tipsy."
"Granted, madam: you took advantage of it; and your conduct--"
"My conduct, Mr Sullivan!" replied his wife, kindling with anger.
"Yes, Mrs Sullivan, your conduct. A married woman, madam, who allows
gentlemen--"
"Gentlemen, Mr Sullivan! I allow no gentlemen but yourself. Are you
sure that you are quite sober?"
"Yes, madam, I am; but this affected coolness will not avail you: deny,
if you can, that Colonel Ellice did not last night--"
"Well, then, I do deny it. Neither Colonel Ellice nor any other man
ever did--"
"Did what, madam?" interrupted the husband, in a rage.
"I was going to observe, if you had not interrupted me, that no one was
wanting in proper respect towards me," replied the lady, who grew more
cool as her husband increased in choler. "Pray, Mr Sullivan, may I
inquire who is the author of this slander?"
"The author, madam! look at me--to your confusion look at me!"
"Well, I'm looking."
"'Twas, madam--the colonel himself."
"The colonel himself!"
"Yes, madam, the colonel himself, who called this morning to see you,
and renew the intimacy, I presume; but, by mistake, was shown up to me,
and then made an apology for his conduct."
"It's excessively strange! first the colonel is rude, without my
knowledge, and then apologises to you! Mr Sullivan, I'm afraid that
your head is not right this morning."
"Indeed, madam, I only wish that your heart was as sound," replied the
husband with a sneer; "but, madam, I am not quite blind. An honest
woman--a virtuous woman, Mrs Sullivan, would have immediately
acquainted her husband with what had passed--not have concealed it;
still less have had the effrontery to deny it, when acknowledged by her
_paramour_."
"_Paramour_!" cried the lady, with an hysterical laugh; "Mr Sullivan!
when I select a _paramour_, it shall be a handsome young man--not an
old, yellow-faced--"
"Pshaw, madam! there's no accounting for taste; when once a woman
deviates from the right path--"
"Right path! if ever I deviated from the right path, as you call it, it
was when I married such a wretch as you! Yes, sir! continued the lady,
bursting into tears, I tell it you now--my life has been a torment to me
ever since I married (sobbing)--always suspected for nothing (sob,
sob)--jealous, detestable temper (sob)--go to my friends (sob)--
hereafter may repent (sob)--then know what you've lost" (sob, sob, sob).
"And, madam," replied Mr Sullivan, "so may you also know what you have
lost, before a few hours have passed away; then, madam, the time may
come when the veil of folly will be rent from your eyes, and your
conduct appear in all its deformity. Farewell, madam--perhaps for
ever!"
The lady made no reply; Mr Sullivan quitted the room, and, repairing to
his counting-house, wrote a challenge to the colonel, and confided the
delivery of it to one of his friends, who unwillingly accepted the
office of second.