contrived to extricate himself from the dog; and after adjusting his
disordered cravat, began to express his deep indignation at the insult
he had suffered. He intimated, in a tone tremulous with agitation, but
in rather choice terms, that he should be quite delighted to know by
what law or custom any person was authorized to hurl the corpse of a
huge mastiff at the head of a citizen of the world; and why the alarming
position of an inoffensive father of seven children, struggling to
escape from an animal, which might, for aught he knew, be alive and
rabid, should exhilarate any gentleman, whose parents or guardians were
not cannibals; or any groom, except a Centaur. “If we are to be treated
in this way,” pursued he, “where is the use of tying our hair?--We may
as well go about like logs in a stream, if gentlemen know nothing
of hydrophobia, or the philosophy of the human heart. Even the brute
creation teaches us many of our social duties: the cat washes her face,
and even the duck smooths her feathers, in order that she may be
known on the pond for what she is: but if a man is to embellish his
exterior,--if we are to display the character of our minds by outward
appearances, and yet be thrown at, for sport, like cocks on a Shrove
Tuesday,--why, to speak plainly, the Ganges may as well be turned into a
tea-pot, and the Arabian deserts be covered with Witney blankets.”
“The short and the long of it is,” said Dick, “he means, sir, that
we ought to know, lookye, as how a man who ties his cravat in a small
rosette, and shews a bit of frill, don't give or take horse-play. That's
my translation of his rigmarole, and I'll lay a crown it's a true one.”
“I suspect it is,” said Perry, “and I'm sorry, porter, that--”
“Not a word more,” interrupted Caesar, again suffering his features to
relax from their state of grave restraint into his habitual smile;--“not
a word more, I insist: to evince a disposition to make an ample apology,
is quite satisfactory from one gentleman to a--to a--”
“To another, you would say,” said Charles.
“You honour me vastly by this condescension, sir; and if ever I compose
another cotillon, or Mrs. Devallé presents me with an eighth pledge of
our affection, your name shall certainly be made use of. Gratitude is
implanted even in stocks and stones; and the acorn that is only half
munched by swine, grows into an oak, and, centuries after, becomes
a ship, in which our celebrated breed of pigs is carried to the four
quarters of the world. Even my namesake Cæsar, the Roman, and Hannibal,
the Carthaginian--”
“Exactly,--exactly so,” said Perry, turning on his heel and biting his
lip, as the recollection of the trick which had been played upon him
again flashed across his mind.
“I beg pardon,” said Cesar, following him; “I don't think you foresaw,
precisely--”
“Well, what were you going to say?” inquired Charles, in a tone of
impatience.
“I was about to propose, that we should drown all future animosity in a
bumper;--that is, if you would honour so humble a member of society as
Cosar Devallé, by ordering the liquor. Shall I execute your commands?”
“Dick, get some brandy:--I could drink a glass myself.”
“I'll step for a pint or so,” quoth Cæsar; “I am fond of motion: it
exemplifies the living principle, and--”
“No more of your observations, but begone,” interrupted Charles. Devallé
made a low bow, and immediately left the room. “The fellow's a fool,”
continued Charles, as the Little Black Porter closed the door. “What say
you, Dick, to all this?”
“Why, sir,” replied Dick, “I don't like to be over positive; but, to
me, it looks rather like a pretty kettle of fish. Moreover, I'll lay a
year's perquisites to half a pound, that Mr. Cæsar, the porter, is more
rogue than ninny.”
“What do you mean? Why do you wink in that manner?”
“Ah! I never winks without there's a notion or two in my head. A
sensible horse don't throw his ears forward, unless there's something in
the wind he thinks may be worth looking at. I can't make out which way
we've been jockied in this form. Where lies the fault, sir?--that's what
I want to know. Who put the dog in the box? I wish any one would answer
that simple question.”
“So do I, Dick, with all my heart.”
“Well, then, it's clear there's a screw loose somewhere. I'll lay my leg
it don't lie with little Patty.--Then where can it?”
“Ay, that's the point, Dick.”
“Why, then, if I'm any judge, this little porter isn't twopence
halfpenny better than he should be. He was a long while going for the
trunk, you'll recollect: and when I told him that it was directed to
Godfrey Fairfax, Esquire, 'Ay, ay!' says he, taking the words out of
my mouth, 'Godfrey Fairfax, Esquire, of Demerary.' It did'nt strike me,
then; but it seems rather oddish to me, now; and, in my mind, all the
roguery was done 'twixt here and the wagon-office: I'll bet a guinea it
was.”
“Egad, Dick! you're generally right; and there seems some probability.
But how shall we act?”
“Why, sir, I recommend that we should make him drunk, and pump him.”
“But, suppose his head should prove too hard for ours, Dick.”
“Never fear that, sir; I'll ring the changes, so that he shall do double
duty.”
“You forget, Dick, that all this time he may be making his escape. Run
down stairs and look after him.”
Dick walked to the door, but returned without opening it. “I hear his
hoof on the stairs, sir,” said he: “sharp's the word.”
The Little Black Porter now entered the room, followed by a waiter with
a decanter of brandy and three glasses. Bumpers were immediately filled,
and the Little Black Porter and Dick drank young Perry's health: Charles
then emptied his glass; more liquor was poured out, the Little Black
Porter began to talk, and, in a very short time, the contents of the
decanter were considerably diminished. Devallé drank, alternately, and
it must be confessed, “nothing loath,” to Dick and his master; and
the groom, with much ingenuity, contrived to make him swallow at least
thrice the quantity that either he or young Perry took. Caesar's eyes
gradually grew bright; a slight stutter was perceptible in his speech;
he unnecessarily used words of considerable length; and spoke familiarly
of persons far above his own station in life.
“You seem to be acquainted with nearly all the residents of this
neighbourhood,” said Charles, drawing the Little Black Porter to a
window; “can you inform me who lives in yonder old brick house, the
window-shutters of which always appear closed?”
“The owner, sir,” replied Cæsar, “is an opulent merchant, old and
whimsical,--but age will have its errors; if not, why do we prop a
tottering castle, and patch shoes? Nothing is incomprehensible if we
adopt the doctrine of analogy; which, as more than one great writer
observes, is an irrefragable proof that man is endowed with reasoning
powers. The gentleman, whose house you now see, sir, sleeps by day, and
dines at midnight. Far be it from me to say that he is wrong: there are
quite enough of us, to dance attendance on the sun; why should not Luna
have her votaries? There's no act of parliament to make man fall asleep
at eleven precisely; Spitzbergen does not lie under the tropics, you
know; and, perhaps, if I had my choice,--for flesh is grass,--I should
prefer that latitude where it is three months day and three months
night.”
“And why so, Caesar?”
“Why, I need not tell you there's some difference between a rhinoceros
and a sugar-cane; and, accordingly, I, for one, seldom or ever want to
go to sleep, except when under the influence of a more cheerful cup
than I usually take; in fact, when I'm in a state of inebriation, which
rarely occurs,--for many mole-hills go to a mountain. But, on the other
hand, when I _do_ sleep,--so lovely is nature!--that I never should
wake, for three months at least, I suspect,--though, of course, I never
tried the experiment,--if Mrs. Devallé did not deluge me with soap-suds.
I am told that soap contains alkali; and alkali, to some constitutions,
is wholesome;--for fire, you know, will roast an ox;--and the custom of
bears retiring into winter quarters, meets with my warmest approbation.”
Before Perry and Caesar returned to the table, Doncaster Dick had
secretly procured a fresh supply of brandy; with which Charles plied the
Little Black Porter so vigorously, that Caesar was soon pronounced by
Dick to be sufficiently intoxicated for their purpose. Young Perry
and the groom then began to draw Caesar's attention to the dog; and
endeavoured, by dint of wheedling, threats, and promises, to elicit from
him what had taken place, with regard to the trunk while it was in
his possession: but, as the porter had nothing to confess, all their
attempts, of course, proved ineffectual; and Caesar, at last, dropped
his head on his shoulder, and sank into a profound sleep.
“We have overdone it, Dick,” said Perry; “we gave him too much, you
see.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Dick, “you opened too hotly upon him;--that's clear.
If you had left him to me, I'd have drawn him as gently as a glove.”
Dick and his master, notwithstanding their precaution, had drunk
sufficient to intoxicate them: they were ripe for mischief, and heedless
of consequences. When Charles Perry, therefore, asked Dick what was to
be done with the trunk, it is scarcely a matter of surprise, that Dick
proposed packing the porter in it, and forwarding it according to the
address on its cover; or that Charles, irritated as he felt, and still
suspicious that Cæsar had been a party to the trick which had been
played off upon him, gaily assented to the proposal. Cæsar was lifted
into the box, and the cords securely fastened, in a very few minutes.
Dick then sallied forth to ascertain where the ship lay. He soon
returned with a couple of Pill boatmen, who informed Charles that the
William and Mary was lying at Kingroad, and waiting only for the tide to
put to sea: they were just about to return to Pill, and they undertook,
for a small sum, to carry the chest down the river in their boat, and
place it safely on board the vessel before she sailed.
It will, doubtless, be recollected that we left Godfrey Fairfax in a
state of delightful agitation, on the deck of the William and Mary,
while several of the crew were preparing to hoist his trunk out of the
hold. As soon as it was brought on deck, Godfrey, with tears of joy
glistening in his eyes, fell on his knees in front of it, and eagerly
unfastened the cords. He trembled to find the bolt of the lock already
shot back, and with the most anxious solicitude, threw up the cover:
instead of the lovely face of Isabel, his eyes fell on that of the
Little Black Porter! Uttering a shriek of horror, he leaped upon his
feet, and stood aghast and speechless for several moments, gazing on
Devallé.
[Illustration: 384]
The crew crowded round the chest, and Cæsar, who had been roused by
Godfrey's exclamation, raised himself, and stared on the various objects
by which he was surrounded,--expressing the utter astonishment he felt
at his novel situation by such strange contortions of countenance and
incoherent expressions, that the sailors, who at the first glimpse they
had of Cæsar, in the box, were almost as much amazed as the Little
Black Porter himself, began to laugh most heartily. Godfrey, at length,
recovered sufficient possession of his faculties to grasp Devallé by the
throat, and violently exclaim,--“Villain, explain! What have you done?”
“That is precisely what I wish to know,” replied Cæsar, as soon as he
could disengage himself from young Fairfax. “What have I done?--Why do I
find myself here?--And where in the world am I?”
“In de Bristol Channel,” chuckled the black cook, who stood tuning
a fiddle by the side of the chest. “Him shipped in good order and
condition, aboard de good ship William and Mary.”
“Consigned, I see,” added a sailor, “to Godfrey Fairfax, Esquire, of
Demerara,--whither we're bound, direct,--'with care this side upwards.'”
“Godfrey Fairfax, of Demerara!--consigned to Demerara!”
exclaimed Caesar, leaping out of the trunk: “Don't play with my
feelings,--don't,--don't! If you are men, don't trifle with me. Your
words are poisoned arrows to my poor heart.”
“Massa Blackee no runaway slave, eh?” inquired the cook. “Unfortunate
wretch that I am!” replied Cæsar; “flesh is frail, and liberty's wand is
a sugar-cane. I feel driven by present circumstances to confess, that
I certainly did escape in the hold of the Saucy Jane, from Demerara,
thirty years ago. Fellow-creatures, do not refund me to my old
master:--I was the property of Mr. Fairfax.”
“Of my father!” exclaimed Godfrey.
“Miserable me! His son here, too!” said Caesar. “I have been
kidnapped,--cheated! I'm a free man, though;--a citizen of the world;
a housekeeper, and the father of seven lovely children: do not deprive
them of their paternal support. Remember, I stand upon my rights: there
are laws even for rabbits; English oak is the offspring of the land of
liberty, and consequently I command somebody to put me ashore.”
“How can we put you ashore, my good man?” asked a fellow in the garb of
an hostler; “we're cantering along at the rate of twelve miles an hour
before the wind; and I've lost sight of land this long time.”
“I don't care for that:--a kangaroo isn't a cockroach, and I demand my
privileges. Put back the ship, I say; I'm here by mistake.”
“Put back the ship!” repeated the man in the stableman's dress; “don't
make yourself so disagreeable in company. Do you think every body is
to be turned to the right-about for you? I've got fifteen mules aboard
under my care, and every hour is an object.”
“My good sir,” said Devallé, with a smile which he deemed irresistible,
“think of my wife and family.”
“Oh, nonsense! think of my mules.”
“If there were but a being endowed with the sublime light of reason,
among you,” exclaimed Caesar, “I would shew by analogy,--yea, I would
convince even any muleteer but this gentleman--”
“Now don't fatigue yourself, nor put yourself out of the way,”
interrupted the man whom Caesar designated as the muleteer; “we all
know, that once free, always free; at least, so I've been told by them
that ought to be dead as a nail upon such things: therefore it's only a
pleasant trip for you to Demerary and back. Your old master can't take
you again.”
“But he will,” said Cosar.
“But he can't,” retorted the muleteer.
“But he will, I tell you: what is the use of your saying a bull can't
legally gore me through the stomach, when I know that he will, whether
he can or no? I must lift up my voice,--curse that fiddle! it's all out
of tune,” continued Devallé, snatching the instrument from the cook,
who was scraping an old march upon it: “I shall lift up my voice, and
protest loudly against this outrage. The downfal of Rome may be dated
from the Sabine occurrence; therefore, I warn every body to restore me
at once to my adopted land. Retract, I say,” pursued the Little Black
Porter, almost unconsciously tuning the fiddle, and then handing it back
to the cook as he spoke; “retract, and land me, or you'll find, to your
cost, that Demosthenes didn't put pebbles into his mouth for nothing.”
Cæsar, however, was not endowed with sufficient eloquence to get
restored to “home, love, and liberty.” He appealed in vain to the
officers of the ship: they said it was impossible for them to lie to,
and land him; for night was coming on--the wind blew a capful--time
was of the utmost importance--they touched nowhere on the voyage--and,
unwilling as they were to be encumbered with him,--Jack in the box, (as
Cæsar was already familiarly termed,) must positively go with them to
Demerara.
Leaving the Little Black Porter and Godfrey Fairfax (who scarcely spoke
a dozen words during the first week of the voyage) on board the William
and Mary, we shall now return to some of the other characters in our
tale.
Firmly believing that he had been the dupe of Patty, Isabel, and one or
both of his rivals, Squire Perry concealed the circumstances which had
occurred at the Dog and Dolphin; and, in a few months, to the great joy
of Doctor Plympton, he left the neighbourhood entirely. George Wharton's
affection for Isabel, in the mean time, had become so apparent, that
several good-natured friends alluded to it, at the Doctor's table, in
such plain terms, that the old gentleman was, at length, compelled to
notice it. He said nothing, however, either to Isabel or George; but
wrote to the young gentleman's father, in Jamaica, stating, that,
singular to say, the young people had clearly fallen in love with each
other, in the opinion of many who were very well qualified to judge in
such matters, although, for his own part, he protested that he could
scarcely believe it. “I entreat you,” he continued, “not to attach any
blame to me, on this occasion: I have done my duty to your son, who is
as fine a scholar as ever I turned out of hand; although, I must
confess, that, latterly, his diligence has visibly decreased. I beseech
you, therefore, as he is sufficiently advanced in the classics to enter
upon the grand stage of life, instead of suffering him to remain with me
another year, which I believe was your intention, to send for him at
once, and so blight this unhappy passion for my child in its very bud.”
To the Doctor's astonishment, Mr. Wharton wrote, in reply, that nothing
could give him greater pleasure than an alliance with so respectable a
family as that of his old friend Plympton; that he highly approved of
his son's choice; that he was by no means opposed to early marriages;
that he had, by the same packet, communicated his ideas as to a
settlement, to an able professional gentleman, who would, doubtless,
speedily wait upon the Doctor for his approval to a draft deed; and that
the sooner the match was made the better.
Adam Burdock, the old attorney of Furnival's Inn, was the professional
gentleman alluded to in Mr. Wharton's epistle; and, in a few days after
its arrival, Doctor Plympton, who found himself unable to communicate
what had transpired to George and Isabel in person, made an excuse
to come to London, and thence, by letter, afforded them the welcome
intelligence.
The deeds were prepared with extraordinary despatch; and, after an
absence of eleven days only, Doctor Plympton, accompanied by the
attorney, returned home. On entering the parlour, he was rather
surprised to find his own capacious elbow-chair occupied by a stranger
of very singular appearance. After gazing for a moment at his unknown
visitor, who was fast asleep, he turned to his companion, and muttered
a few incoherent phrases, by which the attorney discovered that his host
was extremely anxious to disclaim all previous acquaintance with the
gentleman in the chair. The stranger still slept. He was attired in a
short nankeen coat and waistcoat,--the latter lying open from the second
button upward, evidently to display a frilled and very full-bosomed
shirt; black small clothes, much the worse for wear; white silk
stockings, hanging in bags about the calves, and exhibiting an elaborate
specimen, from the knee-band to the instep, of the art of darning:
his hands rested on a fine bamboo, and his head was embellished with a
well-powdered wig:--it was the Little Black Porter.
Doctor Plympton coughed thrice with considerable emphasis, moved a chair
with unnecessary violence, and very energetically poked the fire; but
his guest still snored. He inquired of the attorney, by a look, what he
should do. Burdock shrugged up his shoulders, smiled, and took a seat.
Patty Wallis, who had been busy hitherto in receiving the luggage
from the driver, now entered the room; George and Isabel immediately
followed; and the joyous laugh of the latter at once produced the
desired effect on the Little Black Porter. He was awake and on his legs
in an instant; and, while he stood bowing and grinning at Isabel and the
Doctor, Patty informed George, who had just returned with Isabel from
a walk, that the stranger knocked at the door about ten minutes before,
inquired for Miss Plympton, and, on being informed that she was out, but
would probably return within half an hour, requested permission to wait,
as he had something of importance to communicate.
Although the presence of his unknown guest was particularly annoying to
him, Doctor Plympton addressed the Little Black Porter with his usual
suavity, and begged he would resume his seat. A very awkward silence
of several moments ensued; during which Cæsar took snuff with great
self-complacency, brushed away the particles which had fallen on his
frill, threw himself back in the chair, and seemed to be proud of the
curiosity which he excited.
“My friend Doctor Plympton,” at length observed the attorney, fixing
his eye on Cæsar so firmly--to use his own expression--that he could not
flinch from it, “my friend here, sir, would, doubtless, be happy to know
what fortunate circumstance he is indebted to for the honour of your
company?”
“I dare say he would,” replied Cæsar; “but my business is with the young
lady.”
“With Isabel Plympton!” exclaimed George.
“Ay, sir!” replied the porter; “Cupid, the little blind god of hearts,
you know--eh! Doctor? Ha, ha!--Well! who has not been young?--Cupid and
his bow, and then his son Hymen! My toast, when I'm in spirits, always
is--May Cupid's arrows be cut into matches to light Hymen's torch, but
his bow never be destroyed in the conflagration.”
“Come, come, sir!--this is foolery,” said Wharton, who seemed to be much
agitated;--“your business, at once.”
“Foolery!” exclaimed Cæsar; “I will not suffer the dignity of man to be
outraged in my person, remember; so take warning. Foolery, indeed!--but
never mind; time is precious; wisdom has been rather improperly painted
as an old woman with a flowing beard, and some of us have not long to
live: so, as we are all friends, I will speak out my business without
delay, provided I am honoured with Miss Isabel's permission.”
“I would rather hear it in private,” said the young lady. “Then I am
dumb,” quoth Cæsar: “Venus has sealed my lips with adamant.”
“You are joking, Bell;--surely you are joking!” exclaimed young Wharton.
“Decidedly you are, child,--I say, decidedly,” cried the Doctor.
“Indeed I am not, father,” replied Isabel, with a gravity of manner
which, with her, was almost unprecedented. “If he have aught to say to
me, and to me alone, I will hear it alone, or not at all.”
“You see, gentlemen,” said Cæsar, “I should be very happy--but Venus has
stopped my breath. I have been always a slave to the sex. Mahomet went
to the mountain; and it is insolence in a rushlight to rival the moon.
Do not entreat me, for I'm inflexible.”
“No one entreats you, man,” said George: “if Isabel Plympton, and such
as you, have any private business with each other, I, for one, will not
trouble you with my presence.”
Young Wharton had no sooner uttered these words, than he walked out of
the room.
“Good Heavens!” exclaimed the Doctor, “I never saw George so roused.
Sir,” added he, addressing the attorney, “he's the quietest creature in
existence,--gentle as a lamb,--meek as a dove; his enemies, if it were
possible for one of his kind disposition to have any, would say he
was even too passive. I'm quite alarmed;--pray come with me,--pray do:
assist me, sir, to soothe him. I'm quite unused to such events, and
scarcely know how to act.--Excuse me, sir, a moment.”
The last words of the Doctor were addressed, as he drew the attorney out
of the room, to the Little Black Porter. “Don't mention it, sir,” said
Cæsar; “if we can't make free, why should crickets be respected? And
now, young lady, as we are quite alone--”
“You come from Godfrey Fairfax,” interrupted Isabel.
“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Cæsar;--“a witch!--the world's at an end! But
I ascribe it to Cupid. How do you know--”
“I guessed--I was sure of it:--I dreamt of him last night. Give me his
letter.”
“His letter?”
“Yes;--have you not one from him?”
“I will not deny that I have; but I was only to deliver it on
condition--”
“Don't talk of conditions give it to me, at once.”
“There it is, then: your commands are my law. I have been a martyr to
my submission to the fair, but I don't repent; and, as philosophy and
analogy both concur--”
“Not another word,” interrupted Isabel, “but leave the house:--go. What!
Cupid's messenger, and demur?”
“Never:--I will fly. Wish for me, and Cæsar Devallé shall appear. I kiss
your fair fingers.”
The Little Black Porter perpetrated a bow in his best style, and closed
the front door behind him, as Doctor Plympton returned to the parlour.
“He's very obstinate--George is,” said the Doctor; “I can't account for
it;--he won't come in. But where's the gentleman of colour?”
“Gone, father.”
“Gone!”
“Yes; his business with me was brief, you see.”
“That may be; but I assure you, Bell, I do not feel exactly satisfied
with you. I should like to know--”
“Ask me no questions to-night, papa: I am not well, and I wish to
retire. If you will permit me to go to my room at once. I will dutifully
answer any thing you please in the morning.”
“Well, go, my love;--go, and God bless you! but it's very mysterious for
all that.”