Conversion of the Lambeth Baths into a Circus—Garlick and the
Wild Beasts—Batty’s Company at the Surrey—White Conduit
Gardens—Re-opening of Astley’s—Batty’s Circus on its Travels—Batty
and the Sussex Justices—Equestrianism at the Lyceum—Lions and
Lion-tamers at Astley’s—Franconi’s Circus at Cremorne Gardens—An
Elephant on the Tight-rope—The Art of Balancing—Franconi’s Company
at Drury Lane—Van Amburgh at Astley’s—The Black Tiger—Pablo
Fanque—Rivalry of Wallett and Barry—Wallett’s Circus—Junction with
Franconi’s.
While waiting for the reconstruction of Astley’s, Batty obtained
possession of the Lambeth Baths, a spacious building in the immediate
vicinity of the Amphitheatre, and converted them, without loss of time,
into a circus, which he was enabled to open at the close of November,
1841. Though the process of conversion had been hastily carried out, the
accommodation and decorations left little to be desired; and, as
Dewhurst, the clown, observed on the opening night, ‘it, like a
punch-bowl, looked all the better for being full.’
‘The performances last night,’ said a critic, ‘were multifarious. First,
there was the phenomenon rider, the volant Mr T. Lee, who, while riding
one or more fiery steeds, made “extraordinary and wonderful leaps,” as
the play-bill says, round the arena, and whose sinewy and symmetrical
form, and untiring activity, drew forth the admiration of the audience.
The clown, however, thought proper to pass a criticism upon his leg,
declaring it was like a bad candle, having more cotton than fat. Next
came Herr Ludovic’s “celebrated extravaganza of Jim Crow and his
granny,” in which the old trick of carrying two faces under one hat is
ludicrously exemplified. Mr Walker followed, with his wonderful feats on
the flying rope and his celebrated _tourbillions_, in which he proved
himself to be anything but a walker. He was speedily displaced by M.
Leonard, the great French rider, on two fleet steeds, who was
miraculously adventurous,—“hazarding contusion of neck and spine.” A
group of ponies was then introduced, and delighted the spectators with a
variety of amusing and sagacious tricks; they fought, they leaped over
poles, and through hoops, they sat down and stood up at command, they
wore cocked hats and cloaks, lace caps and mantles, and supped with the
clowns on oaten pies, sitting at the table with all proper decorum; they
fetched and carried, they played at leap-frog, they marched, they
danced, they walked on their hind legs, they bowed, and they went down
on their knees, for here that was an accomplishment, and not a
detriment, to any nag.
‘A company of vaulters next performed some daring leaps and threw
somersaults _ad infinitum_, backwards or forwards, in rapid succession.
After this Miss O’Donnell performed some pretty evolutions on horseback.
Wonderful feats of “ponderosity” were next displayed by M. Lavater Lee,
who balanced a feather and a plank forty feet long with equal dexterity,
and by various jugglings frequently placed his physiognomy in jeopardy.
These performances being over there came, “for the first time, a novel
introduction, replete with new and splendid dresses, properties, and
state carriage drawn by four diminutive steeds,” in which the whole
juvenile company appeared, entitled _The Little Glass Slipper_. The
foundation of this pantomime is old; but it was produced with new faces
last night, and elicited loud and universal approbation. Some of the
performers were scarcely able to toddle, but the acting of the whole was
unique, and deserving of all the praise it received. The dresses and
arrangements were superlative in their style and effect. A series of
gymnastics and equestrian exhibitions, with a new piece, called _The
Wanderers of Hohonor and the Sifans_, wound up the entertainments of the
evening, which were interspersed with the witticisms and waggeries of
two very clever clowns, one of whom is a good punster, and the other a
supple posture-master and a capital performer on—the penny trumpet.‘
Early in 1842, the programme was varied by a romantic spectacle called
_The Council of Clermont_, devised for the introduction of a group of
trained lions, tigers, and leopards, brought from Batty’s menagerie,
accompanied by their performer, Garlick. The spectacle comprised a
triumphal cavalcade of Frankish warriors, mediæval sports in rejoicing
for victory, the tricks of a Greek captive’s horse, and the adventures
of the Greek among the wild beasts to whom he is thrown to be devoured.
It had a very brief run, however, and was succeeded by the elephant, and
subsequently by a tournament, to which was given the anachronical title
of _The Eglinton Tournament, or The Lists of Ashby!_ Shakspeare, it may
be said, has given, as the locality of the scene of an incident in one
of his plays, ‘a sea-port in Bohemia;’ but the making the Eglinton
tournament take place at Ashby-de-la-Zouch is an anachronism as glaring
as the incongruity of elephants and zebras in a Cossack camp.
The Olympic Arena, as Batty’s new circus was called, was the scene of
some feats too remarkable to be omitted from this record. Walker, on one
occasion, sustained the weight of six men, and held six cart-wheels
suspended, while hanging by the feet from slings; but it must be
remarked that he held only two of the wheels with his hands, the others
being attached in pairs to his feet, which were secured in the slings,
so that the weight fell chiefly upon the rope to which the slings were
attached. More remarkable feats were performed by Lavater Lee on his
benefit night, when he vaulted over fourteen horses, threw a dozen
half-hundred weights over his head, bent backward over a chair, and in
that position lifted a bar of iron weighing a hundred pounds, threw a
back somersault on a horse going at full speed, and turned twenty-one
forward somersaults, without the aid of a spring-board.
Dewhurst, the clown, must be allowed to speak for himself in the bill
which he issued for his benefit, and which, as regards his own
performances, was as follows:—
‘This is the night to see DEWHURST’S long and LOFTY JUMPS, without the
assistance of a spring-board:—1. Over a garter 14 feet high. 2. Over a
man standing on a horse lengthways. 3. Through a hoop of fire two feet
in diameter. 4. Through a circle of pointed daggers. 5. Over 10 horses.
6. Through six balloons. 7. Over three horses, one standing on the backs
of the other two. And finally, to crown his extraordinary efforts, he
will leap through a MILITARY DRUM, and over a REAL POST-CHAISE AND PAIR
OF HORSES.
‘During the evening will be introduced several NEW ACTS OF HORSEMANSHIP,
during the intervals of which Mr DEWHURST will perform many surprising
Feats; amongst the number, he will _tie his body in a complete knot_.
After which he will _walk on his hands_, and carry in his mouth _two
fifty-six pound weights_; in finis, it will be a GRAND BANQUET NIGHT!!
More entertainments than all the Aldermen in London can swallow. Dishes
to please Old and Young, Father and Son—Daughter and Mother, Sister and
Brother—Fat and Lean, Dirty and Clean—Short and Small, Big and Tall—Wise
and Witty, Ugly and Pretty—Good and Bad, Simple or Sad—All may enjoy,
and plenty to pick and choose among—Curious Speeches, Mild Observations,
Strange Questions, and Ugly Answers—Shakspeare reversed, and Milton with
a glass eye—Conundrums, Riddles, Charades, Enigmas, and Problems—With a
variety of real Nonsensical Nonsense, too innumerable to mention—hem!
‘Mr DEWHURST will on this night dance an ORIGINAL MOCK CACHOUCA, in a
style nothing like MADAME TAGLIONI. Mr D. will likewise dance the
CRACOVIENNE, as originally danced by Mademoiselle FANNY ELSLER, at her
Majesty’s Theatre, Italian Opera House. He will also _burlesque a
favourite dance of_ MADAME CELESTE; and conclude with a New Comic
Lancashire HORNPIPE IN CLOGS.’
Batty removed his company and stud at Whitsuntide to the Surrey, for a
short season, Dewhurst taking another benefit, on which occasion he
issued the following characteristic appeal:—
‘On this particular occasion Mr Dewhurst’s tongue will be placed on a
swivel in the centre, and black-leaded at both ends, to bring laughing
into fashion.
‘I wonder how the people can
Call me Mr Merryman!
Worn are my clothes almost out
By being whipped and knocked about;
Torn is my face in twenty places
By stretching wide to make grimaces.
My worthy cits,
Now is it fit
That you should sit,
Gallanting it,
The whole kit,
In box and pit,
To see me hit,
Boxed, cuffed, and smit,
Sham dead as a nit,
And laugh at it,
Till your sides split?
There you sit,
Though requisite
To rack my wit
These rhymes to knit,
Which I have writ
To bring the folks to a house well lit,
To fill the house before we quit,
For a great attraction all admit
Will be on Dewhurst’s benefit.’
From the Surrey, Batty and his company removed to White Conduit Gardens,
where a temporary circus was erected for the summer season, and in early
autumn to the theatre at Brighton. Astley’s was re-opened shortly
afterwards with a powerful company and a numerous stud of beautiful and
well-trained horses. Batty was himself a capital rider; Newsome, his
articled pupil, was already a very promising equestrian; and the company
was now joined by the celebrated Stickney, who was a great attraction
during several seasons. A bull-fight was one of the special features of
the programme of 1842–3, a horse being, as on other occasions when the
conflicts of the _Corrida de los Toros_ have been represented in the
arena, trained to play the part of the bull.
While performing at Brighton, Batty was convicted of having performed a
pantomime in a place unlicensed for theatrical performances, whereby he
had incurred a penalty of £50 under an Act of the reign of George II.,
which has been exercised on several occasions to the vexation and loss
of the circus proprietors against whom it has been enforced. Batty
appealed against the conviction, and engaged counsel, by whom it was
elicited from the witnesses that the dialogue did not exceed fourteen
lines, and was merely an introduction to an equestrian and acrobatic
entertainment without scenery. It was argued for the appellant that the
spectacle which had been represented was neither a pantomime nor a stage
play; and that if an entertainment without a stage or scenery was a
‘stage play,’ the well-known tailor’s ride to Brentford was a stage
play, and, if dialogue alone made an entertainment a stage play, the
clown must not crack jokes with the ring-master, nor Punch appeal to the
drummer outside his temple. Counsel reminded the bench that the Lord
Chamberlain’s jurisdiction did not extend to the Surrey side of the
Thames, and that magistrates had power to grant licenses only at a
distance of twenty miles from the metropolis; so that Astley’s, the
Surrey, the Victoria, and the Bower infringed with impunity the Act
under which Batty had been convicted. The conviction was quashed, but
the result of the appeal has not prevented other circus proprietors from
being similarly molested in other parts of the country.
During the summer of 1843, Batty’s company performed in the Victoria
Gardens, at Norwich, where the feats of Masotta, ‘the dare-devil rider,’
from Franconi’s, formed a striking feature of the programme. He was
famous for leaping on and off the horse, from side to side, and backward
and forward, while the animal was in full career. Plége, the
rope-dancer, and Kemp, the pole performer, were also in the company.
On the company and stud returning to Astley’s in the autumn, the
stirring events of the war in Afghanistan were embodied in one of those
patriotic and military spectacles for which the establishment was
famous. The national pulse did not beat so ardently at beat of drum and
call of trumpet as it had done a quarter of a century before, however,
and the run of the piece was proportionately short. It was followed by a
spectacular play founded upon incidents connected with the battle of
Worcester; a romantic equestrian drama, illustrative of the final
struggle between the Spaniards and the Moors; and, towards the close of
the season, by the ever-attractive _Mazeppa_.
Young Newsome, who displayed considerable ability as an equestrian
pantomimist, was a great attraction in the circle, which now began to be
enlivened by the humour of Tom Barry, who continued to be principal
clown at this establishment for several years. Among the more remarkable
of the ring performances during this season, other than equestrian, were
the feats of one of the Henglers on the _corde volante_, and Kemp’s
tricks on the ‘magic pole.’
Equestrian entertainments were given in 1844, for a short season, at the
Lyceum Theatre; and, in the absence of rivalry, attracted good houses.
At Astley’s, new aspirants to fame and popular favour appeared in Plége,
the French rope-dancer, and Germani, a clever equestrian juggler, whose
performance seems to have somewhat resembled that given a few years ago
at the Holborn Amphitheatre by Agouste, with the difference that Germani
performed his feats on the back of a horse. He juggled with balls,
oranges, and knives alternately, and then with a marble, which he caught
in the neck of a bottle while the horse was in full career.
Carter, the lion-tamer, was also engaged towards the close of the
season; and, his re-appearance having shown that the exhibition of
trained lions and tigers was still attractive, another of the
profession, named White, was engaged by Batty in 1845, with a group of
performing lions, tigers, and leopards. White, however, never produced
the sensation created by the performances of Van Amburgh and Carter. The
equestrianism was a very strong feature of the programme this season,
those accomplished riders, John Bridges and Alfred Cooke, being engaged,
while Batty and Newsome were pillars of strength in themselves. Cooke’s
company appeared this year at the Standard, and was succeeded in the two
following years by Tournaire’s and Columbia’s, but equestrian
performances did not attract there.
In 1846, Simpson, host of the Albion Tavern, opposite Drury Lane
Theatre, opened Cremorne Gardens, for which he engaged the company and
stud of the famous Parisian circus of Franconi.
At Astley’s, in this year, Newsome revived Ducrow’s feat of riding six
horses at once, in an act called the Post-boy of Antwerp; and a German
equestrian named Hinné, with his daughter Pauline, were engaged. Young
Newsome and Mdlle Hinné sometimes rode together in double acts, and in
this manner an acquaintance sprang up between them which, becoming
tenderer as it progressed, eventually ripened into marriage.
It was during the season of 1846 that the extraordinary spectacle was
witnessed at Astley’s of an elephant on the tight-rope. It is not more
difficult, however, for an elephant, or any other beast, to balance
itself upon a stretched rope than for a man to do so; the real
difficulty is in inducing the animal to mount the rope. The art of
balancing consists in the maintenance of the centre of gravity, which,
it may be explained, is that point in any body, animate or inanimate,
upon or about which it balances itself, or remains in a state of
equilibrium in any position. In any regular-shaped body, whether round
or angular, provided its density is uniform through all its parts, the
centre of gravity is the centre of the body; but in an irregular-shaped
body, or a combination of two or more bodies, the centre of gravity is
the point at which they balance each other. If we place any
regular-shaped body on a table, it will remain stationary, or in a state
of rest, provided an imaginary line drawn from its centre of gravity,
and passing downward in a direction perpendicular to the table, falls
within its base. But, if the centre of gravity is in a part of the body
above any part of the table that is outside the base, the object will
topple over, and assume some position in which the centre of gravity
will be within the base. Take, for example, a five-sided block of wood,
and place it upon the table. If the five sides are each of the same
superficies, it will stand upon either of them; but if they are unequal,
and it is so placed that the centre of gravity is above a part of the
table that is outside the face upon which you attempt to make it stand,
it will fall down.
There is a little toy which I remember having seen when a child, and
which, as it illustrates the natural law upon which the art of balancing
depends, I will here describe. It was made of elder pith, fashioned and
coloured into a rough resemblance to the human figure, and weighted with
a piece of lead, like the half of a small bullet, which was attached to
its feet with glue. The centre of gravity was, consequently, so low
that, in whatever position the figure might be placed, it immediately
assumed the perpendicular, and could be kept in any other only by
holding it. Now, if the feet of a human being were as much heavier than
the head and trunk, as the lead in this toy was heavier than the pith,
we should never be in any danger of losing our balance; and an infant
might be allowed to make its first essay in walking as soon as its legs
were strong enough to support it, without being in any danger of a fall.
But the head is, in proportion to its bulk, much heavier than the trunk;
and the breadth of the trunk considerably exceeds that of the feet,
which constitute the base. The balance is, therefore, easily lost;
because a stumble throws the centre of gravity beyond the base.
Though the maintenance of the centre of gravity is rendered more
difficult in proportion to the height to which it is raised above the
base, as my younger readers may have found when constructing a house of
cards, this is not the case when any disturbance of the equilibrium can
be counteracted immediately, as in the case of a stick balanced on the
tip of the finger. A stick three or four feet long is more easily
balanced on the finger than one much shorter, because the tendency to
topple over can be counteracted by the movement of the finger in the
direction in which it leans, so as to maintain the centre of gravity.
Those who make an experiment of this kind for the first time will be apt
to find that the balancing of a stick or a broom upon the finger is
difficult, owing to the smallness of the base in proportion to the
height of the centre of gravity, unless the eyes are directed towards
the top. The stick is at rest at the base, and any deviation from the
perpendicular must commence at the upper extremity. Keep your eye on the
top, and you can balance a scaffold-pole or a ladder, if you can sustain
the weight. Whatever difficulty there was in the feat of balancing a
ladder, to the top of which a small donkey was attached, as exhibited in
my juvenile days by an itinerating performer,—whence the saying,
‘Twopence more, and up goes the donkey!’—was due entirely to the weight
of the animal; because, if it was properly attached to the ladder, the
centre of gravity would be in precisely the same situation as if the
ladder alone had to be balanced.
In the animal world, the centre of gravity is invariably so placed as to
produce an exact equilibrium and harmony of parts. Every animal
furnished with legs is balanced upon them; so that in man the centre of
gravity is the crown of the head. The reader may test this by leaning
forward or laterally, with the arms by the side, and the legs straight,
when a tendency to fall will be experienced, which can be counteracted
only by extending an arm or a leg in the opposite direction. The art of
balancing the body in extraordinary situations, as exemplified in the
feats of rope-walkers and gymnasts, depends, therefore, on the same
natural law as that which enables us to balance a stick upon the finger.
The centre of gravity must be kept perpendicular to the rope or bar, any
tendency to sway to the right or left being corrected by the arms, or by
the balancing-pole, if preferred, by performers on the rope.
I have dwelt upon this subject a little after the manner of a lecturer,
because so many of the feats performed in the arena of a circus depend
upon the natural law which I have endeavoured to explain, and many of my
readers, who have witnessed them, without being able to account for
them, may like to know something of the _rationale_. It may be asked,
and the question is a very pertinent one, why do not equestrians fall in
performing feats of horsemanship in a standing position, in which, as
the horse careers round the ring, they lean inward? This phenomenon is
due to the counterpoise which, in the case of bodies in a state of rapid
motion, the centrifugal force presents to the weight of the body.
Centrifugal force, it must be explained, is the tendency which bodies
have to fly off in a straight line from motion round a centre; and the
power which prevents bodies from flying off, and draws them towards a
centre, is called centripetal force. All bodies moving in a circle are
constantly acted upon by these opposing forces, as may be seen by
attaching one end of a piece of string to a ball, and the other to a
stick driven into the ground. If the ball is thrown horizontally, with
the string in a state of tension, it will fly round the stick; but, if
it becomes disengaged from the string, the centrifugal force, or its
tendency to fly off, will cause it to proceed in a straight line from
the point at which the separation is effected.
Let us now see how these forces operate in the case of the riders in a
circus. The equestrian leans inward so much that, if he were to stand
still in that position, he would inevitably fall off the horse; but the
centrifugal force, which has a tendency to impel him outward from the
circle, or in a straight line of motion, sustains him, and he careers
onward safely and gracefully. The tendency of the centrifugal force to
impel him outward is counteracted by the inward leaning, while it forms
an invisible support to the overhanging body. It will be observed also
that the horse assumes the same counteracting posture; and a horse
quickly turning a corner does the same.
Resuming our record of circus performances, we find Pablo Fanque at
Astley’s in 1847, with a wonderful trained horse, Plége again appearing
on the tight-rope, and Le Fort, ‘the sprite of the pole,’ in a novel and
clever gymnastic performance. The political events of which Paris was
the scene in the following year caused the managers of Franconi’s Cirque
to transfer their company and stud to Drury Lane Theatre, so that London
had two circuses open at the same time for the first time since the days
of Astley and Hughes.
John Powell appeared during this season at Astley’s, and an additional
attraction was provided in Van Amburgh’s trained animals, to which there
was now added a black tiger, a rare variety, and one which had never
been exhibited in a state of docility before. It was introduced in the
drama of the _Wandering Jew_, a story which was then creating a great
sensation all over Europe; and Van Amburgh personated the beast-tamer,
Morok, through whose instrumentality the Jesuits endeavour to delay the
old soldier, Dagobert, on his journey to Paris, by exposing his horse to
the fangs of a ferocious black panther.
It was in this year, it may here be remarked, that Sir Edwin Landseer’s
great picture of Van Amburgh in the midst of his beasts was exhibited at
the Royal Academy, where it attracted as much attention as the originals
had done at Astley’s.
Pablo Fanque’s circus had, in the mean time, moved from Wakefield to
Leeds, where a catastrophe occurred which has, unfortunately, had too
many parallels in the annals of travelling circuses. On a benefit night
in March, 1848, the circus was so crowded that the gallery fell, and
Pablo’s wife was killed, and Wallett’s wife and several other persons
were more or less injured. Wallett then joined Ryan’s circus, which,
however, was on its last legs; bailiffs were in possession, and its
declining fortunes were brought to a climax by a ‘strike’ of the band.
At this crisis Wallett had the good fortune to be engaged for Astley’s,
where a keen rivalry soon ensued between him and Barry, who claimed the
choice of acts in the ring, in his exercise of which Wallett was not
disposed to acquiesce. Thompson, the manager, took the same view as the
latter of the equality of position of the two clowns; and Barry, in
consequence, refused to perform, unless the choice of acts was conceded
to him. A very attractive act was in rehearsal at this time, in which
John Dale was to appear as an Arab, with a highly-trained horse, and
Barry as a rollicking Irishman. As Wallett had attended all the
rehearsals he was as capable of taking this part as the other clown was,
and, on Barry failing to appear, he was requested by Thompson to take
the part which had been assigned to his rival. Wallett complied, and
enacted the part of Barney Brallaghan with complete success. Barry
thereupon retired, and for many years afterwards kept a public-house in
the immediate vicinity of the theatre.
Thompson was succeeded in the management by William Broadfoot, the
brother-in-law of Ducrow, whom he resembled very much in disposition and
temper. One day, during the rehearsal of a military spectacle, a cannon
ball, which was among the stage properties, was thrown at him, which so
enraged him that he offered a reward of £2 for information as to the
person by whom it had been thrown, the hand which had impelled the
missile being unknown at least to himself. There was a fine of ten
shillings for practical joking during rehearsals, but the reward left a
wide margin for its payment, and tempted Wallett to acknowledge that he
was the offender. Broadfoot paid the reward, and Wallett paid the fine,
afterwards expending the balance of thirty shillings in a supper, shared
with Ben Crowther, Tom Lee, and Harvey, the dancer.
There was another supper at Astley’s which the parties did not find
quite so pleasant. Batty produced an equestrian drama called the
_Devil’s Horse_, in which Wallett had to play a subordinate part, one
agreeable incident of which was the eating of a plate of soup. One
night, James Harwood, the equestrian actor, intercepted the soup in
transit, and refreshed himself with a portion of it, which so enraged
Wallett that he broke the plate on the offender’s head. By this assault
he incurred the penalty of being mulcted of a week’s salary, the means
of evading which exercised his mind in an unusual degree. The expedient
which he hit upon was the borrowing of ten pounds from the treasurer,
George Francis, having obtained which he went his way rejoicing. He did
not present himself at the treasury on the following Saturday; and
Batty, meeting him on Monday morning, inquired the reason of his
absence.
‘I had no salary to receive,’ replied Wallett. ‘I had borrowed ten
pounds of Mr Francis in the week.’
‘Then your fine will be a set off against next week’s salary,’ observed
Batty.
‘Aren’t you aware, sir,’ rejoined Wallett, ‘that the time I was engaged
for expired on Saturday night?’
By this stratagem he escaped the payment of the fine; but his engagement
was not renewed, and, having saved some money, he started a circus, and
opened with it at Yarmouth. Business was very bad there, and he
proceeded to Colchester, where part of the circus was blown down by a
high wind, and this accident created an impression of insecurity which
damaged his prospects in that town beyond repair. At Bury St Edmunds and
Leicester he was equally unsuccessful, and determined to proceed
northward. Nottingham afforded good houses, but Leeds was a failure, and
at Huddersfield the gallery gave way, and the alarm created by the
accident deterred persons from venturing into the circus afterwards.
Franconi’s company were doing good business at Manchester, in the Free
Trade Hall, at this time; and Wallett, after two more experiments, at
Burnley and Wigan, with continued ill fortune, effected an amalgamation
with the French troupe. James Hernandez, one of the most accomplished
equestrians who have ever entered the arena, made his _début_ at
Manchester while the combined companies and studs were performing there,
and proved so sterling an attraction that he was engaged for the
following season at Astley’s.
Crowther, who has been incidentally mentioned in connection with
Wallett, married Miss Vincent, ‘the acknowledged heroine of the domestic
drama,’ as she was styled in the Victoria bills. The union was not a
happy one, though the cause of its infelicity never transpired. It was
whispered about, however, that a prior attachment on Crowther’s part to
another lady had something to do with it; and there were many
significant nods and winks, and grave shakings of the head, at the bar
of the Victoria Tavern, and at the Rodney and the Pheasant, over the
circumstance of his strange behaviour in the church at which he and the
fair Eliza were married. The talk was, that the bride’s position and
worldly possessions had tempted him to break the word of promise he had
plighted to another, and that compunction for his faithlessness was the
cause of his strangeness of demeanour on the wedding-day, and of the
domestic infelicity which it preluded. But nothing ever transpired to
show that these rumours had any foundation in fact.