"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 sea-sickness. 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 he 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 looked 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 anything becomes fashionable, _c'est une
affaire decidée_.
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, &c.; 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
_exposé_. 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' slippers, 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 ate 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 hearing, 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
overruled 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 love 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 a 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. Everything 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
Jago's, being then off that island (creatures more like English pigs on
stilts than anything 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, d--d 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 agreeable 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 everybody 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 everything;
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
tap 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 Cognac. 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 and 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 it 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 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 the 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 message 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 anything 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!--d--nation! 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 anything which
passed. I did hope to have addressed the lady in person on the subject, and
I came here with that intention."
"I daresay 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 gentleman 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 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.