CHAPTER IV.

"Stand back, thou manifest conspirator:

Thou that contrivedst to murder!"

SHAKSPEARE.

"Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers,

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.

Farewell, sweet madam!"

_Idem._

In a small room on the first floor of the old house occupied by the Jew

druggist, sat Otmar once more, on the evening of the important day which

had decided the fortunes of Maria Theresa. He had returned to the

temporary home from which he had been so inhospitably driven, in order to

direct the removal of his scanty baggage, and the few relics that reminded

him of happier times, and the brighter days of his childhood, and which,

during the day, his old attendant had collected together.

The room was wainscoted with blackened oak, the sombre shades of which

were unrelieved by any ornament; and at a table, near the heavy

casement-window, a part of which was open, rather to admit the fading

light of day into the dark apartment than the autumn air of the chill

evening, sat the young noble, tracing slowly the lines of a letter, which

he seemed to compose with difficulty, and not without many a hesitation

and many a heavy sigh.

Upon a packed portmanteau, in the middle of the room, sat Farkas, puffing

from a short pipe small clouds of smoke, which issued in regular but

uneasy jerks from beneath his thick overhanging moustache. From time to

time he nodded his head impatiently, with a sideward movement, and

murmured between his teeth, without interrupting his employment, words

that accompanied his intermittent puffs, like the distant rumbling which

follows the smoke of the cannon on the far-off battle-field.

"_Teremtette!_" he muttered angrily. "I shall not be easy until I am quit

of this den of the old hyena, who has turned my lord out of doors like a

gipsy beggar-boy--and why? The foul fiend only knows. I should like to

wring the old ruffian's neck for him, like a carrion-crow, _eb adta_!"

At length the young noble threw down his pen.

"It is done!" he exclaimed with a sigh. "I have written to the old

advocate at Buda to send me the papers I require. I must not think on my

own fortunes. My father's honour must be saved; and my own beggary shall

be signed before I leave this country."

"Too honest by half to such rascals as those villanous cheating

money-lenders, whoever they may be, _eb adta_!" muttered Farkas again

unheard, with a vexed shrug of the shoulders.

"Is all prepared?" said Otmar, turning to his attendant.

"There is nothing but what I can take upon my own shoulders," answered the

old man with a sigh; "and they are broad enough to bear twice the

weight." And rising from his temporary seat, he jerked it on to his back.

Then seizing up another small valise in his hand, he stood ready for

departure.

"Enter the first inn, and there await my orders, whether they have room to

lodge us or no; as is not probable in the confusion of the town," said

Otmar. "I trust that I may yet find us other and better quarters for

another night; and we can seek a home for once under nature's roof,

without much detriment to our bones."

"What his lord can bear, can old Farkas also," was the attendant's sturdy

answer, and he left the room.

"Farewell then," said Otmar, gazing around him. "Farewell, my poor

chamber, the depositary of so many hopes and aspirations, regrets, sad

thoughts, and air-built castles. Visions, bright visions of beauty and of

love, have illumined thy dark walls; and they, too, have flown--flown

before a stern reality, which proclaimed them folly, madness--ay, madness!

They are gone for ever! But shall they not be followed by dreams of glory,

of renown, of smiles from her beaming eyes to thank her champion--her

friend? Yes--me, too, she has called her friend. Farewell, then, my poor

chamber! Thou hast witnessed little but my wretchedness, and yet I regret

thee; for her spirit--hers--the beautiful, the bright, the unknown--still

hovers around thee. Fare-thee-well!"

Otmar prepared to depart; but he was still lingering to send around him a

last look upon those bare walls which he had thus apostrophized, when

hasty steps were heard to mount the stair, and Farkas abruptly re-entered

the room.

"Quick, quick!" cried the old man. "I saw him coming up the street--him,

you know--that outlandish rascal, whom you fought by the inn on the

roadside, because he would have spoken ill of our Queen--God preserve

her!--the same who, if your doubts prove true, was the villain who tore

that cursed slip in your attila last night--the foul fiend confound him,

_eb adta_! I thought I had a stronger arm--old fool that I was! Quick,

quick!" And seizing Otmar's arm, he dragged him to the open window.

"It is he!" exclaimed the young noble, looking out; "the same tall form

and insolent gait. Ah! he is entering the house. Hark! he is mounting the

stair. God be praised, he falls into my very hands!"

In truth, footsteps were evidently ascending the staircase. Otmar and his

old attendant paused to listen with palpitating interest. The next moment

the door of the Jew's apartment, on the other side of the passage, was

heard to open, and a voice to exclaim, "Hello! old fox, where have you hid

yourself? Out of your hole, I say! I have to speak with you." Then the

door closed, and all was still.

"It is the same voice!" exclaimed Otmar again. "It is he who made that

foul attempt upon her liberty. Villain!" And half-drawing his sabre, he

rushed towards the door of the room.

"Down with him! down with the rascal, _teremtette_!" cried Farkas,

following his master in excitement.

"No, no!" said Otmar, checking his own first impulse, and catching the old

man's arm. "He is a traitor and a spy! It is not for me to punish; it is

for the country's laws. She bids me seek to discover him. Providence has

thrown him into my hands, and enabled me to obey her behest. She would

condemn me were I to take vengeance into my own hands."

"What!" cried Farkas, violently. "My lord has his enemy face to face, and

hesitates to defy him to the death!"

"Peace, old man!" exclaimed Otmar; "you know not what you say. Ah! I see

it all now," he continued. "He is the agent of her enemies, and is in

collusion with our doctor landlord. It is here their villainous schemes

are hatched."

"True! It was he--it must have been he," said Farkas in his turn, "who sat

with the rascally old thief, when I entered his room the night before the

last."

"Hear me, Farkas," continued the young noble. "I must away to the castle.

Maria Theresa may still be there. All shall be revealed. Watch you, at

some distance, in the street, that he leave not the house or escape us."

"Better split the cowardly villain's skull at once, _teremtette_!" cried

the old man once more, indignantly.

"Peace, I say!" said Otmar. "Follow me, and stealthily." And with these

words he left the room, followed down the stairs by his grumbling

attendant, who still muttered many an angry "_teremtette!_" between his

lips, unable to comprehend the hesitation of his young master, when so

good an opportunity was before him of taking revenge upon "such a

villainous scoundrel" as the spy.

Scarcely had they quitted the apartment, when an angle of the wainscoting,

forming the door of a partially concealed closet, opened; and the form of

the Jew money-lender--pale, trembling, and with haggard eyes--staggered

into the room.

"Jehovah! We are lost--irretreviably lost!" he exclaimed with a choked

husky voice. "Cavaliere! Cavaliere!" and he hastened, as fast as his

trembling limbs would carry him, to the door. But, in spite of his agony

and his alarm, his usual habits of caution, and perhaps of

self-appropriation also, did not forsake him, and with the words, "That

paper the young fellow wrote may tell us more!" he turned back, shuffled

to the table, snatched up the letter, which Otmar had forgotten in his

hurry, and then gained his room, where, seated, with gloomy and

discontented brow, the Italian spy waited him.

"_Diavolo!_ Where have you been hiding, Bandini? I need your aid,"

exclaimed the cavaliere, as he entered. "All is ruined, if still stronger

measures be not taken. My grand expedition of last night, which might have

secured all at a blow, has utterly failed, through the interference of a

rash young fool, who has twice crossed my path to baffle me. I myself am

wounded,"--and he pointed to a bandage, partly concealed by a scarf thrown

over his shoulder--"still confused, from a blow dealt upon my head by some

meddling ruffian. The curses of hell blight their arms, one and all! Those

traitors, too, the Hungarians, have broken every promise, to shout

_Vivat!_ to that woman; because she shed before them a few maudlin tears.

Weak fools! weak fools! and that they call enthusiasm! They promise her

supplies of men and money. My schemes are ruined--my services all

naught--your hopes of reward utterly gone, Master Bandini--utterly gone,

do you hear?--if some great _coup-de-main_ be not yet tried. There! look

not so pale and frightened, man, with that ugly wo-begone face of yours.

There are yet means that may be used."

"But we are lost--lost!" stammered the Jew, shaking in every limb, and

struggling in vain to speak.

"Lost! Not yet!" replied the Italian scornfully "whilst I have yet a head

to scheme, and a bold heart to execute."

"We are lost, I tell you. All is discovered. We are betrayed!" cried the

Jew. "That young fellow--in yonder room--alas! he knows all. We must

fly--conceal ourselves."

"How now, man?" exclaimed the cavaliere, in his turn springing up in

alarm.

"I had driven him from the house, at your desire," stammered Bandini,

panting for breath; "but he returned to seek his baggage. They had both

been absent, master and man; and I had thought to look after my own poor

goods and chattels in the room"--

"Or to that which you could lay your hands upon, old thief--I know you.

But proceed! What means this tale?" said the spy.

"Jehovah knows you speak not true!" continued the Jew. "But they came back

suddenly and unawares. I feared they might think evil of me, if they found

me there; and I concealed myself in the closet. I heard all!"

"All!--all what? Speak, man!" exclaimed the Italian furiously.

"He is the same--the same of whom you spoke just now," pursued the old

man, trembling. "He who wounded you last night. He recognised you as you

entered. He knows all. He is gone up to the castle to betray us. Oh! I am

a lost man--a lost man!" and the Jew wrung his hands bitterly.

"Betrayed!" cried the spy--"gone, to the castle! Ten thousand devils drag

him down to hell! Which way did he go? What did you hear? Speak,

man!--speak, I tell you." And he shook the old man violently by the

collar.

"He will probably mount to it by the shorter ascent, along the Jews'

street," gasped forth Bandini with difficulty.

"And is there no quicker way?" exclaimed the Italian hurriedly.

"By the lane opposite," stammered the Jew breathlessly. "Turn to the

left--mount the crooked street--you will find yourself opposite to the

garden, behind my old friend Zachariah's house. On passing through it, you

are at the upper end of the Jews' street, and near the castle plain."

"There is no time to be lost!" cried the spy, flinging his hat upon his

head. "My pistols are primed and loaded," he continued, feeling in an

inner pocket of his coat. "I shall be there before him. He must die. The

same passage will favour my escape. Ah! it is you rascal of a Jew,

villainous miser, who are the cause of all! Dearly shall you repay me

this!" And seizing the old money-lender by the throat, he nearly throttled

him, and, when he was almost black in the face, flung him with violence

into a corner of the room.

As the Italian disappeared, the old man raised himself, with difficulty,

from the ground.

"And such is the poor Jew's reward," he muttered, "from these Christian

dogs, for all his losses, and his sacrifices, and his perils! What is to

be done? If he kill the youth, I have still to fear his wrath. If he come

not in time, we are undone. Every way is danger. Shall I myself turn

informer? It is late--very late in the day--but yet it may be tried. Can I

glean nothing from this paper that may sound like fresh and genuine

information? What have we here?" he continued, rapidly scanning parts of

Otmar's letter with his eye, and murmuring its contents to himself. "'I

leave the country'--'But my father's honour must be covered'--'Send the

papers ceding the estates'--'I am resolved to sign, although it be my

utter ruin'--The name?--'Otmar, Baron Bartori.'--Merciful Jehovah!" burst

forth the Jew. "It is he! It is my young man--and I knew it not--he, whose

sign-manual is to convey to me the estates, in return for my poor moneys

lent: and, if he sign not, the heritage goes to the next male heir; and I

am frustrated of my dues. But he will be killed--die without signing. I am

a ruined man--a ruined man!" And the money-lender clasped his hands in

despair. "No, no--he must not die. Caracalli! Caracalli! touch him not!

touch him not! He must not die, ere I have his precious sign-manual. Save

him! save him! Jehovah! what shall I do? Caracalli! Caracalli!" And thus

madly shouting after the Italian, the Jew rushed from his room in a frenzy

of despair.

In addition to the great and winding carriage-road which leads up to the

summit of the hill on which stands the castle of Presburg, there is a

shorter passage to it, by a narrow tortuous street, lined with old falling

houses, and paved at intervals with terrace-like stone steps to aid the

steep ascent. To this street, in former times, the Israelites residing in

the city were restricted as a dwelling-place, incurring heavy fine and

imprisonment by daring, either openly or under a feigned name, to infringe

this severe rule: and even at the present day, although this restriction

has been removed, it is almost entirely occupied, either from habit or

from choice, by petty and most doubtful traders of the same persuasion,

and is still known under the name of the Jews' Quarter. The upper end of

this steep and winding lane is terminated, between high walls, by a large

old gateway, opening into the castle plain. And under this gateway it was,

that the Italian spy awaited his victim. He had contrived to evade the

vigilance of Farkas, by darting up a lane immediately fronting the St

Michael's gate, and now, having ascertained, by a few hasty words

interchanged with the Jew Zachariah, that no one answering the description

of the young noble had been seen to pass, he felt assured, that, by his

haste in pursuing the shorter cut from behind, he had gained an advance

upon him.

The night was fast closing in, and the Italian felt himself secure from

observation in the dark recess in which he lurked behind the gate. Aware

that by a deed of assassinating alone he could save himself from the

consequences of a revelation which not only ruined all his schemes, but

placed his life at stake, he grasped a pistol in his hand, and waited

firmly, with calmness which showed his long acquaintance with deeds of

hazard and of crime.

He had stood some time, counting with impatience the moments, until he

began to fear that the young noble had taken the longer road, when at last

the sound of footsteps struck upon his ear. Looking out from the corner of

the gateway in which he had concealed himself, he could plainly see, at

some little distance, the form of a man, resembling that of his expected

victim, mounting the stone steps of the lane between the row of walls; and

he drew back, cocked his pistol, and prepared to fire at him as he passed.

Presently hastier footsteps--those of a running man--sounded nearer. Had

he been perceived? Was his purpose divined? Was his victim about to rush

upon him? These thoughts had scarcely time to pass rapidly through his

brain, when a dark form hurried round the angle of the gateway. The

Italian's hand was on the lock. He fired.

A terrific cry, and then a groan, followed the explosion. A body fell. The

Italian bent forward. At his feet lay the form of his associate, the

miserable Jew.

"Kill him not--the sign-manual"--were the only last words that faintly met

the ear of the assassin, before the blood rushed up in torrents into the

mouth of the unhappy man, and choked his voice for ever.

Before the spy had a moment's time to recover from his surprise at the

unexpected deed he had done, another cry of "Murder! murder!" was shouted

close beside him, by a man who had run up. A strong hand grasped his arm.

It was that of his intended victim.

"Assassin!" cried Otmar. "Ah! it is again he! God's will be done!"

"_Mille diavoli!_ Have at thee yet!" exclaimed the Italian, struggling to

disengage himself with a strong effort, and staggering back.

Succeeding in the attempt, he drew his sword. The weapons of the two men

were immediately crossed. Both fought with desperation. Already a wound on

Otmar's arm had rather excited his energies than disabled him, when a

crowd was seen approaching rapidly from the direction of the castle. Some

persons detached themselves from it, and ran forward, attracted by the

previous cry of "murder," and the clash of arms. The cavaliere felt that

he was lost, if he made not a fearful effort to disengage himself at once

from his antagonist, and made a violent lunge at Otmar. The active young

noble swerved aside. The sword passed him unscathed, and the next moment

his sabre descended on to the Italian's head. With a fearful curse, the

spy staggered, reeled backward, and fell to the ground.

When the persons from the castle hurried up, they found the young noble

standing by his prostrate foe, and leaning upon his sabre--his cheek

already pale from the loss of the blood which streamed from his wound.

Before, in the confusion, much explanation could be asked or given, others

of the approaching party had come up: at an order issued, a sedan chair,

borne by eight men, was set down under the gateway; a female form issued

from it, and, in spite of the opposition of those about her, Maria Theresa

advanced through the crowd.

"What has happened? Who disturbs the peace?" she exclaimed, coming forward

with that courage she evinced on all emergencies.

"Retire, I beseech you, to your chair, madam, and allow yourself to be

carried on," said the young Prince Kaunitz, who formed one of the suite.

"This is no sight for a woman, and a queen." And he interposed his person

between his sovereign and the bodies of the Italian and the Jew.

"Permit me, prince," said Maria Theresa, waving him aside; for she had now

caught sight of the pale face of Otmar, brightly illumined by the lighted

torches which some of her attendants bore to light her on her way, upon

her evening transit from the castle to the primate's summer palace.

"You, my young champion, here!" she cried, with tones of evident anxiety,

stepping forward. "What has happened? In God's name, what is this? You are

not hurt, sir?"

"Only a scratch, so please your majesty," replied Otmar; "and happy and

proud I am that I should have gained it in your service."

"Tell me what has passed? How do I find you here? Who is this man?"

continued the young Queen, glancing slightly at the form of the prostrate

Italian.

"It is the same villain who has already dared to lay his hand upon the

sacred person of your majesty," said the young noble proudly. "Chance led

me to his discovery. I was hurrying to seek my Queen, to obey her orders.

The wretch--I know not how--was beforehand with me. He would have waylaid

me, as I must suppose. Another, who passed me at the moment, was his

victim. I attacked him; and there he lies. I know no more."

"And who is that poor man?" said Maria Theresa, pointing to the body of

the Jew.

Some of her attendants raised up the corpse.

"I recognise him," said Otmar. "He was the accomplice of that fellow.

God's justice has fallen on him by the hand of his own confederate. But

how, is still to me a mystery."

"The other still lives," exclaimed the voices of some, who had now lifted

up the form of the Italian.

"Let him be conveyed to the castle," commanded the Queen. "Every inquiry

shall be instituted in this affair. Let justice take its course upon the

spy and traitor."

The Italian was conveyed away.

"But you are hurt, noble youth. Your cheek grows paler still," cried Maria

Theresa. "Help there! Bring water! quick! He may be dying."

"It is nothing!" said Otmar, with sinking voice and failing senses. "A

little faintness! I shall be better soon. A smile from you will repay

all!"

His head whirled, and he fell back into the arms of the bystanders.

In spite of the alarm of the young Queen, a deep blush overspread her

countenance at these last words.

"Ah! should it be so!" she murmured to herself; and, after casting a long

look upon the form of the handsome youth before her, she bent her head to

the earth.

Water was quickly brought from a neighbouring house. In spite of the

increasing crowd attracted to the spot, Maria Theresa disdained not to

bathe with her own hands the temples of the fainting man. Snatching a

perfumed handkerchief from the hand of Kaunitz, she bound it tightly on

the young noble's arm. In a short time, he once more opened his eyes.

Water was given him to drink; and he again was able to stand, weakly, on

his feet.

"You--my Queen. You have deigned--to look upon your poor subject-to tend

him"--he stammered faintly, as his eyes fell upon the lovely face before

him. "You--the noble--the beautiful--the beloved"--

"Hush! hush, sir," interposed the young Queen hurriedly. "You must not

speak now. Your brain wanders. You shall be conveyed to the castle, and

tended there. As soon as you are fully recovered, a post is ready for you

with the army. You must leave us forthwith. Be brave, be gallant, be

noble, as you have ever shown yourself; and, perhaps, hereafter"--

She checked herself; with a sigh, and turned away her face.

"Yes--away from here! I must away," said Otmar. "The army, the

battle-field, glory, renown, must be my only thoughts." And, sinking his

head on his heart, he murmured lowly--

"_Moriamur pro Rege Nostro._"

CONCLUSION.

It is well known in history, that the rising of the Hungarian saved the

falling fortunes of Maria Theresa. The enthusiasm of this sensitive and

energetic people, once awakened, knew no bounds. All the country nobles,

with their followers, took up arms. Croatia alone supplied twelve

thousand men. Immense sums of money, to support the army, were offered by

the clergy; and, out of the most distant provinces, sprang up, as the

soldiers sown by the teeth of Cadmus from the earth, those countless

savage hordes, who under the name of Pandours carried terror into every

part of Europe. From the moment of the "insurrection," as it is called, of

the Hungarian nobility, the aspect of affairs began to change. The Elector

of Bavaria, who, to the grief of Maria Theresa, had received the imperial

crown of Germany, so long in the possession of the House of Hapsburg,

chiefly by the influence of French intrigues, under the name of Charles

the Seventh, was driven from his States. England and Holland were won over

to the cause of the persecuted Queen; and both, especially the former,

lent her large sums. The whole British nation was interested in her

favour. The English nobility, instigated by the Duchess of Marlborough,

offered her a subscription collected to the amount of a hundred thousand

pounds; but this sum Maria Theresa nobly refused, accepting nothing that

was not granted to her by the nation in Parliament assembled. By the

valour of Hungarian arms, the French were at length driven out of Bohemia;

and what still more contributed to the peace shortly after obtained from a

great portion of the Queen's enemies, was the result of the bloody field

of Hanau, which turned out entirely to the advantage of Maria Theresa and

her noble allies, and at which half of the _noblesse_ of France was either

killed or wounded.

It was shortly after this great battle, in which so many bold spirits fell

on either side, that a catafalk was erected at the upper end of the middle

aisle belonging to the glorious Gothic Church of St Stephen's in Vienna.

The service for the dead had been performed with pomp. The priests had

retired from the aisle. But still, upon the steps, covered with black

cloth, and illumined from above by many wax-lights, knelt two personages.

The one was a female, dressed in deep mourning, who appeared to be praying

fervently. A group of attendants, both male and female, in the attire of

the court mourning of the day, stood at a little distance from her. The

other was an old man, in a well-worn hussar dress, who had thrown himself

forward on to the upper step, upon another side of the catafalk, and had

buried his face in his hands. At length the female rose, gave a last look

at that dark mass, which concealed a coffin, and, within, a corpse; and

then, drawing her veil over her face, moved slowly towards a side-door,

followed by her attendants, with a respect paid only to a royal personage.

A crowd of beggars surrounded the door, where an Imperial carriage waited;

and distributing the contents of a heavy purse among them, the lady said,

with broken voice,

"Pray for the soul of Otmar, Baron Bartori, who died in battle for his

Queen."

MESMERIC MOUNTEBANKS.

In an age of utilitarian philosophy and materialism, we are proud to stand

forth as the champion of he Invisible World. MAGA and MAGIC are words

which we cannot dissociate from one another, either in sound or in

affection. The first was the mistress of our youth--our literary

mother--our guide and instructress in the paths of Toryism,

good-fellowship, and honour. Fain would we hope that, in maturer years, we

have rendered back to the eldest-born of Buchanan some portion of the deep

debt of gratitude which from our childhood upwards we have incurred. We

have ever striven to comport ourselves in sublunary matters as beseemeth

one who has sat at the feet of Christopher, imbibed the ethical lore of a

Tickler, and received the sublimest of peptic precepts and dietetic

instruction from the matchless lips of an Odoherty. Her creed is ours, and

no other--the bold, the true, and the unwavering--and when we die, bewept,

as we trust we shall be by many a youth and maiden of the next generation,

we shall ask no better epitaph for our monument than that selected by poor

John Keats, though with the alteration of a single word--"HERE LIETH ONE

WHOSE NAME IS WRIT IN MAGA."

Magic, however--not Maga--is the theme of our present article; nor do we

scruple at the very outset to proclaim ourselves a devout and fervent

believer in almost every known kind of diablerie, necromancy, and

witchcraft. We are aware that in the present day such confessions are very

rare, and that when made by some reluctant follower of the occult faith,

they are always accompanied with pusillanimous qualifications, and weak

excuses for adherence to opinions which, in one shape or another, pervade

the population of Christendom, and pass for current truth throughout the

extensive realm of Heathenesse. So much the better. We like a fair field

and no auxiliaries; and we are here to do battle for the memory and fair

fame of Michael Scott, Doctor Faustus, and the renowned Cornelius Agrippa.

Sooth to say, we were born and bred long before Peter Parley had

superseded the Fairy Tales, and poisoned the budding faculties of the

infancy of these realms with his confounded philosophical nonsense, and

his endless editions of _Copernicus made Easy_. Our nurserymaid, a hizzie

from the Upper Ward of Lanarkshire, was a confirmed and noted believer in

dreams, omens, tatie-bogles, and sundry other kinds of apparitions. Her

mother was, we believe, the most noted spaewife of the district; and it

was popularly understood that she had escaped at least three times, in

semblance of an enormous hare, from the pursuit of the Laird of Lockhart's

grews. Such at least was the explanation which Lizzy Lindsay gave, before

being admitted as an inmate of our household, of the malignant persecution

which doomed her for three consecutive Sundays to a rather isolated, but

prominent seat in the Kirk of Dolphington Parish: nor did our worthy

Lady-mother see any reason to doubt the accuracy of the statement. For was

it not most natural that the daughter--however comely--and Lizzy was as

strapping a lass as ever danced at a kirn--of a woman who had the evil

reputation of divining surreptitious fortunes by means of the sediment of

a tea-cup--of prophesying future sweethearts in exchange for hoarded

sixpences--and of milking dry her neighbours' cows by aid of cantrips and

an enchanted hair rope--was it not most natural, we say, that the daughter

of the witch should have been looked upon with a suspicious eye by the

minister, who used annually to preach four sermons in vituperation of Her

of Endor, and by the Elders, whose forefathers had turned out doggedly for

the Covenant, and among whom still circulated strange and fantastic tales

of bodily apparitions of the Evil One to the fugitives in the muir and the

wilderness--of hideous shapes, which disturbed the gathered conventicle

by the sides of the lonely burn--of spells, which made the buff-coats of

their adversaries impenetrable as adamant to leaden bullet or the sweep of

the Cameronian steel?

Upon these testimonials, and a strong affidavit from Lizzy, that in every

other earthly matter she was innocent of the slightest peccadillo, the

Lily of Lanark was installed as mistress and governante of the Nursery. We

were then in the days of teething, and sorely tormented with our gums,

which neither for knob of poker, nor handle of kitchen-fork--the ancient

Caledonian corals--would surrender their budding ornaments. We believe,

therefore, that Lizzy Lindsay erred not materially from the path of truth

when she signalized us as "the maist fractious bairn that ever broke a

woman's heart." Night and day did we yell, with Satanic energy, from the

excruciating molar pain, and little sympathy did our tears awaken in our

pillow, as we lay in fevered anguish on the exuberant bosom of our

guardian. Fortunately for us, in these days Daffy's Elixir was a thing

unknown, else no doubt we should have received an early introduction to

dram-drinking by means of the soft carminative. The fertile genius of

Lizzy suggested a better spell for allaying our infant sorrows. Whenever

we indulged in a more than ordinary implacable fit of screeching, she

threatened us with the apparition of "the Boo-man," a hideous spectre

which was then supposed to perambulate the nurseries in the shape of

Napoleon-Bonaparte. In a very short while, no Saracen child ever became

dumber when threatened by its mother with a visit from the Melech-Ric,

than we did at the proposed coming of the dark and sanguinary phantom. For

many years afterwards we believed as sincerely in the existence of this

anthropophagus as in our own; and very nearly became a Bauldy for life,

from having been surprised on one occasion, whilst surreptitiously

investigating the contents of a jampot, by the descent of a climbing-boy

into the nursery, and the terrors of his telegraphic boo! As we grew up,

our nascent intellect received still more supernatural services from the

legendary lore of Lizzy. She taught us the occult and mysterious meaning

of those singular soot-flakes which wave upon the ribs of a remarkably

ill-pokered fire--the dark significance which may be drawn from the

spluttering and cabbaging of a candle--and the misfortunes sure to follow

the mismanagement of the sacred salt. Often, too, her talk was of the

boding death-watch--the owl which flapped its wings at the window of the

dying--and the White Dove that flitted noiselessly from the room at the

fearful, and then to us incomprehensible moment of dissolution. As

Hallowe'en approached, she told us of the mystic hempseed, of the figure

which stalled behind the enterprising navigator of the stacks, and that

awful detention of the worsted clue, which has made the heart of many a

rustic maiden leap hurriedly towards her throat, when in the dead of

night, and beneath the influence of a waning moon, she has dared to pry

into the secrets of futurity, and, lover-seeking, has dropped the ball

into the chasm of the deserted kiln.

Such being the groundwork of our mystic education, it is little wonder

that we turned our novel knowledge of the alphabet to account, by pouncing

with intense eagerness upon every work of supernatural fiction upon which

we possibly could lay our hands. We speak not now of Jack the

Giant-killer, of the aspiring hero of the Beanstalk, or the appropriator

of the Seven-leagued boots. These were well enough in their way; but not,

in our diseased opinion, sufficiently practical. We liked the fairies

better. For many a day we indulged in the hope that we might yet become

possessed of a pot of that miraculous unguent, which, when applied to the

eye, has the virtue of disclosing the whole secrets of the Invisible

World. We looked with a kind of holy awe upon the emerald rings of the

greensward, and would have given worlds to be present at the hour when the

sloping side of the mountain is opened, and from a great ball, all

sparkling with a thousand prismatic stalactites, ride forth, to the sound

of flute and recorder, the squadrons of the Elfin Chivalry. Well do we

remember the thrill of horror which pervaded our being when we first read

of the Great Spectre of Glenmore, the Headless Fiend that haunts the black

solitudes of the Rothemurchus Forest, whom to see is madness, and to meet

is inexorable death! Much did we acquire in these days of the natural

history of Wraiths and Corpse-candles-of Phantom Funerals encountered on

their way to the kirkyard by some belated peasant, who, marveling at the

strange array at such an hour, turns aside to let the grim procession

pass, and beholds the visionary mourners--his own friends--sweep past,

without sound of footfall or glance of recognition, bearing upon their

shoulders a melancholy burden, wherein, he knows, is stretched the wan

Eidolon of himself! No wonder that he takes to his bed that night, nor

leaves it until the final journey.

Not for worlds would we have left the Grange house, which was then our

summer residence, after nightfall, and, skirting the hill by the old

deserted burial-ground, venture down the little glen, gloomy with the

shade of hazels--cross the burn by the bridge above the Caldron pool--and

finally gaze upon the loch all tranquil in the glory of the stars! Not all

the fish that ever struggled on a night-line-and there were prime

two-pounders, and no end of eels, in the loch--would have tempted us to so

terrible a journey. For just below the bridge, where the rocks shot down

precipitously into the black water, and the big patches of foam went

slowly swirling round--there, we say, in some hideous den, heaven knows

how deep, lurked the hateful Water-Kelpy, whose yell might be heard,

during a spate, above the roar of the thundering stream, and who, if he

did not lure and drown the cat-witted tailor of the district, was, to say

the least of it, the most maligned and slandered individual of his race.

Even in broad day we never liked that place. It had a mischievous and

uncanny look; nor could you ever entirely divest yourself of the idea that

there was something at the bottom of the pool. Bad as was the burn, the

loch was a great deal worse. For here, at no very remote period, the fiend

had emerged from its depths in the shape of a black steed, gentle and

mild-eyed to look upon, and pacing up to three children, not ten minutes

before dismissed from the thraldom of the dominie, had mutely but

irresistibly volunteered the accommodation of an extempore ride. And so,

stepping on with his burden across the gowans--which never grew more, and

never will grow, where the infernal hoof was planted--the demon horse

arrived at the margin of the loch where the bank is broken and the water

deep, and with a neigh of triumph bounded in, not from that day to this

were the bodies of the victims found. Moreover, yonder at the stunted

thorn-trees is the spot where poor Mary Walker drowned herself and her

innocent and unchristened bairn; and they say that, at midnight when all

is quiet, you will hear the wailing of a female voice, as if the spirit of

the murdered infant were bewailing its lost estate; and that a white

figure may be seen wringing its hands in agony, as it flits backwards and

forwards along the range of the solitary loch. Therefore, though the black

beetle is an irresistible bait, we never threw a fly at night on the

surface of the Haunted Tarn.

Penny Encyclopaedias, although Lord Brougham had advanced considerably

towards manhood, were not then the fashion. Information for the people was

not yet collected into hebdomadal tracts; and those who coveted the fruit

of the tree of knowledge were left to pursue their horticultural

researches at their own free will. In the days of which we write, the two

leading weekly serials were the "_Tales of Terror_" and "_The Terrific

Register_," to both of which we regularly subscribed. To our present

taste--somewhat, we hope, improved since then--the latter seems a vulgar

publication. It was neither more nor less than a _rifacciamento_ of the

most heinous and exaggerated murders, by steel, fire, and poison, which

could be culled from the records of ancient and modern villany. It was, in

short, the quintessence of the _Newgate Calendar_, powerful enough to

corrupt a nation; as a proof of which--we mention it with regret--the

servant lad who ten years ago purloined it from our library, has since

been transported for life. We even dare to back it, for pernicious

results, against the moral influence which has been since exercised by

the authors of Oliver Twist and Jack Sheppard, to both of whom the penal

colonies have incurred a debt of lasting gratitude. It is true that, in

point of sentiment, these gentlemen have the advantage of the Editor of

The Terrific Register, but he beats them hollow in the broad delinquency

of his facts. But in the Tales of Terror we possessed a real supernatural

treasure. Every horrible legend of demon, ghost, goule, gnome,

salamandrine, and fire-king, which the corrupted taste of Germany had

hatched, was contained in this precious repository. It was illustrated

also, as we well remember, by woodcuts of the most appalling description,

which used to haunt us in our sleep long after we had stolen to our bed at

half-past eleven punctually, in order that we might be drenched in slumber

before the chiming of the midnight hour--at which signal, according to the

demonologists, the gates of Hades are opened wide, and the defunct usurer

returns to mourn and gibber above the hiding-place of his buried gold.

Gradually, however, we waxed more bold; and by dint of constant study

familiarized ourselves so much with the subject, that we not only ceased

to fear, but absolutely longed for a personal acquaintance with an

apparition. The History of Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay, which shortly

afterwards fell into our hands, inspired us with the ambition of becoming

a practical magician, and we thirsted for a knowledge of the Cabala. We

had already done a little business in the way of turnip lanterns, the

favourite necromantic implements of the ingenuous Scottish youth--hideous

in the whiteness of their vegetable teeth, and not unappalling when

dexterously placed upon the edge of the kirk-yard wall. Electric shocks

conveyed by means of the door-handles, phosphoric writings on the wall,

and the mystery of spontaneous bells, were our next chemical amusements;

nor did we desist from this branch of practice until we had received a

most sound castigation, at the recollection of which our bones still ache,

from a crusty old tutor whose couch we had strewn, not with roses, but

with chopped horse-hair.

We are old enough to recollect the first representation of _Der

Freischutz_, and it is an era in our dramatic reminiscences. Previously to

that, we had seen a Vampire appear upon the boards of the Edinburgh stage,

and after an extravagant consumption of victims throughout the course of

three acts, fall thunder-smitten by an indigo bolt through a deep and

yawning trap-door. But Zamiel, as then represented by Mr Lynch, completely

distanced the Blood-sucker. With feelings of intensest awe, we beheld the

mysterious preparations in the Wolf's Glen--the circle of skull and

bone--the magic ring of light blue that flickered round it--the brazier

with the two kneeling figures beside it--the owl on the blasted tree,

which opened its eyes and flapped its wings with true demoniacal

perseverance--and the awful shapes that appeared at the casting of every

bullet! But when, as the last of them was thrown from the mould, a crash

of thunder pealed along the stage, and lurid lightnings glared from either

wing--when the cataract was converted into blood, and the ferocious form

of Lynch stood forth as the Infernal Hunter, discharging, after the manner

of such beings, two rifles at once--our enthusiasm utterly overcame us; we

gave vent to an exulting cheer, and were conducted from the boxes in a

state of temporary insanity.

We pass over our classical studies. We were no great dab at Virgil, but we

relished Apuleius exceedingly, and considerably petrified the Rector, by

giving up, as the subject of our private reading, "_Wierus de

Proestigiis Demonum_." Our favourite philosopher was Sir Kenelm Digby,

whose notions upon sympathy and antipathy we thought remarkably rational;

so much so, that up to the present time, we recognise no other treatment

for a cut finger than a submersion of the bloody rag in vitriol and water,

and a careful unction of the knife. We lost our degree in medicine by

citing as a case in point the wonderful cure of Telephus by the

application of oxide of iron, which we held to be no specific at all,

except as obtained from the spear of Achilles. This dogma, coupled with

our obstinate adherence to the occult doctrines of Van Helmont, the only

medical writer whose works we ever perused with the slightest

satisfaction, was too much for the bigoted examinators. We were

recommended to go abroad and study homoeopathy. We did so, and we swear

by Hahnemann.

It is now some years since we received our first inkling of mesmeric

revelation. Since then, we have read almost every work which has appeared

upon the subject; and we scruple not to say that we are a profound

believer in all of its varied mysteries. In it we recognise a natural

explanation of all our earlier studies; and we hail with sincere delight

the progress of a science which reconciles us to magic without the

necessity of interposing a diabolic agency. The miracles of Apollonius of

Tyana, as related by Philostratus, become very commonplace performances

when viewed by the light of mesmerism. The veriest bungler who ever

practised the passes can explain to you the nature of that secret

intelligence which enabled the _clair-voyant_ philosopher, then at

Ephesus, to communicate the murder of Domitian to his friends at the

moment it took place at Rome. Second-sight has ceased to be a marvel: the

preternatural powers, long supposed to be confined to Skye, Uist, and

Benbecula, are now demonstrated to be universal, and are exhibited on the

platform by scores of urchins picked up at random from the gutter. Even

the Arabian Nights have become probable. Any perambulating mesmeriser can

show you scores of strapping, fellows, reduced by a single wave of his

hand to the unhappy condition of the young Prince whose lower extremities

were stone. Comus was nothing more than a common Professor of the science;

and Hermotimus a silly blockhead, who could not wake himself from his

trance in time to prevent his wife from consigning him to the funeral

pile.

The practical utility of the science is no less prodigious. Is it nothing,

think you, if you have suffered a compound fracture of the leg, so bad

that amputation is indispensable, to be relieved from all the horrors of

the operation, from the sickening sight of the basins, the bandages, and

the saw--to feel yourself sinking into a delicious slumber at the wave of

the surgeon's hand, and to wake up ten minutes afterwards an unsuffering

uniped, and as fresh as the Marquis of Anglesea? Is it nothing, when that

back-grinder of yours gives you such intolerable agony that the very

maid-servants in the attics cannot sleep o'nights because of your

unmitigated roaring--is it nothing to avoid the terrible necessity of a

conscious Tusculan disputation with Nasmith or Spence--to settle down for

a few moments into a state of unconsciousness, and to revive with your

masticators in such a condition as to defy the resistance of a navy

biscuit? Or, if you are a stingy person and repugnant to postage, do you

think it is no advantage to get gratis information about your friends in

India through the medium of your eldest son, who, though apparently

sitting like a senseless booby in your armchair, is at this moment

invisibly present in the mess-room at Hyderabad, and will express, if you

ask him, his wonder at the extreme voracity with which Uncle David devours

his curry? Why, in that boy you possess an inestimable treasure! You may

send him to Paris at a moment's notice for a state of the French funds--he

will be at St Petersburg and back again in the twinkling of an eye--and if

our own sight is failing, you have nothing to do but to clap the last

number of the Magazine below him, and he will straightway regale your

heart with the contents of the leading article.

There is a great deal of romance about Mesmerism. We have nowhere read a

more touching story than that of the two consumptive sisters who were

thrown into the Magic trance about the end of autumn, who lay folded in

each other's arms--pale lilies--throughout the whole of the dreary winter,

and awoke to life and renovated health in the joyous month of May, when

the leaves were green, the flowers in bud, and the lambkins frolicking on

the meadow! Read you ever any thing in novels so touching and pathetic as

this? Nor is the case once recounted to us by a friend of our own, a noted

mesmerizer, one whit less marvellous. In the ardent prosecution of his

art, he had cast his glamour upon a fair Parisian damsel of the name of

Leontine--we believe she was a laundress--and daily held conference with

the dormant Delphic girl. On one occasion he left her, wrapt in the

profoundest sleep, in his chamber, and proceeded to perambulate the

Boulevards on his own secular affairs. On returning, he found poor

Leontine suffused in tears; deep and stifling sobs disturbed her

utterance, nor was it until the charmer had soothed her with a few

additional passes, that she could falter out the tender reproach--"Why did

you not bring me some bonbons on the shop where you eat those three

ice-creams?" Our friend had not walked alone through Paris. The spirit of

the loving Leontine was invisibly clinging to his arm.

Now, although we make it an invariable rule to believe every thing which

we read or hear, we were not a little desirous to behold with our own eyes

an exhibition of these marvellous phenomena. But somehow or other, whilst

the papers told us of Mesmeric miracles performed in every other part of

the world, Edinburgh remained without a prophet. Either the Thessalian

influence had not extended so far, or the Scottish frame was unsusceptible

to the subtle fluid of the conjuror. One or two rumours reached us of

young ladies who had become spellbound; but on inquiring more minutely

into the circumstances, we found that there was an officer in each case,

and we therefore were inclined to think that the symptoms might be

naturally accounted for. There was, however, no want of curiosity on the

part of the public. The new science had made a great noise in the world,

and was the theme of conversation at every tea-table. Various attempts at

mesmerization were made, but without success. We ourselves tried it; but

after looking steadfastly for about twenty minutes into a pair of laughing

blue eyes, we were compelled to own that the power was not in us, and that

all the fascination had been exercised on the other side. Nobody had

succeeded, if we except a little cousin of ours--rather addicted to

fibbing--who averred that she had thrown a cockatoo into a deep and

mysterious slumber.

Great, therefore, was our joy, and great was the public excitement, when

at length a genuine professor of the art vouchsafed to favour us with a

visit. He was one of those intelligent and patriotic men who go lecturing

from town to town, inspired thereto by no other consideration than an

ardour for the cause of science. The number of them is absolutely amazing.

Throughout the whole winter, which is popularly called the lecturing

season, the dead walls of every large city in the empire are covered with

placards, announcing that Mr Tomlinson will have the honour of delivering

six lectures upon Syria, or that Mr. Whackingham, the famous Timbuctoo

traveller, will describe the interior of Africa. They are even clannish in

their subjects. The Joneses are generally in pay of the League, and hold

forth upon the iniquity of the Corn-duties. The Smiths, with laudable

impartiality, are divided between slavery and liberation, and lecture

_pro_ or _con_, as the humour or opportunity may serve. The

Macgillicuddies support the Seceding interest, and deliver facers in the

teeth of all establishments whatsoever. The Robinsons are phrenological,

the Browns chemical, and the Bletheringtons are great on the subject of

universal education for the people. To each and all of these interesting

courses you may obtain admittance for the expenditure of a trifling sum,

and imbibe, in exchange for your shilling or half-crown, a considerable

allowance of strong and full-flavoured information. Always ardent in the

cause of science, we never, if we can help it, miss one of these seducing

soirees: and we invariably find, that whatever may have been the

heterodoxy of our former opinion, we become a convert through the powerful

arguments of these peripatetic apostles of science.

Our new Xavier belonged to what is called the mesmerico-phrenological

school. He was a man of bumps as well as passes--a disciple alike of

German Spurzheim and of English Elliotson. His placard was a modest one.

It set forth, as usual; the disinterested nature of his journey, which was

to expound to the intelligent citizens of Edinburgh a few of the great

truths of mesmerism, illustrated by a series of experiments. He

studiously disclaimed all connexion with preternatural art, and ventured

to assure every visitor, that, so far as he was concerned, no advantage

should be taken of their attendance at his _Seance_ in any future stage of

their existence. This distinct pledge removed from our minds any little

scruple which we otherwise might have felt. We became convinced that the

lecturer was far too much of a gentleman to take advantage of our

weakness, and report us to the Powers of Evil; and accordingly, on the

appointed night, after a bottle or so of fortifying port, we took our way

to the exhibition-room, where Isis was at last to be revealed to our

adoring eyes.

We selected and paid for a front seat, and located ourselves in the

neighbourhood of a very smart bonnet, which had mesmerically attracted our

eye. Around us were several faces well known in the northern metropolis,

some of them wearing an expression of dull credulity, and others with a

sneer of marked derision on the lip. On looking at the platform, we were

not altogether surprised at the earliness of the latter demonstration.

There was no apparatus there beyond a few chairs; but around a sort of

semicircular screen were suspended a series of the most singular portraits

we ever had the fortune to behold. One head was graced with a mouth big

enough to contain a haggis, and a coronal of erected hair like a

hearth-brush surmounting it left no doubt in our mind that it was intended

for a representation of Terror. It was enough, as a young Indian officer

afterwards remarked, to have made a Chimpanzee miscarry. Joy was the exact

portraiture of a person undergoing the punishment of death by means of

tickling. We should not like to have met Benevolence in a dark lane: he

looked confoundedly like a fellow who would have eased you of your last

copper, and knocked you down into the bargain. As for Amativeness, he

seemed to us the perfect incarnation of hydrophobia. In fact, out of some

two dozen passions, the only presentable personage was Self-esteem, a

prettyish red-haired girl, with an expression of fun about the eyes.

In a short time the lecturer made his appearance. To do him justice, he

did not look at all like a conjuror, nor did he use any of those becoming

accessories which threw an air of picturesque dignity around the wizard of

the middle ages. We could not say of him as of Lord Gifford,

"His shoes were mark'd with cross and spell,

Upon his breast pentacle;

His zone, of virgin parchment thin,

Or, as some tell, of dead-man's skin,

Bore many a planetary sign,

Combust, and retrograde, and trine."

On the contrary, he was simply attired in a black coat and tweed

terminations; and his attendant imps consisted of half a dozen young

gentlemen, who might possibly, by dint of active exertion, have been made

cleaner, and whose free-and-easy manner, as they scrambled towards their

chairs, elicited some hilarious expressions from the more distant portion

of the audience.

The introductory portion of the lecture appeared to us a fair specimen of

Birmingham rhetoric. There was a great deal in it about mysterious

agencies, invisible fluids, connexion of mind and matter, outer and inner

man, and suchlike phrases, all of which sounded very deep and

unintelligible--so much so indeed, that we suspected certain passages of

it to have been culled with little alteration from the emporium of Sartor

Resartus. Meanwhile the satellites upon the platform amused themselves by

grimacing at each other, and exchanging a series of telegraphic gestures,

which proved that they were all deep adepts in the art of masonry as

practised by the youth of the Lawnmarket. The exposition might have lasted

about a quarter of an hour, when sundry shufflings of the feet gave a hint

to the lecturer that he had better stop discoursing, and proceed

incontinently to experiment. He therefore turned to the imps, who

straightway desisted from mowing, and remained mute and motionless before

the eye of the mighty master. Seizing one of them by the hands, the

operator looked steadfastly in his face. A dull film seemed to gather over

the orbs of the gaping urchin--his jaw fell--his toes quivered--a few

spasmodic jerks of the elbows showed that his whole frame was becoming

Leyden, jar of animal electricity--his arms dropped fecklessly down--few

waves across the forehead, and the Lazarillo of Dunedin was transported to

the Invisible World!

Muttered exclamations--for the sanctity of the scene was too great to

admit of ruffing--were now heard throughout the room. "Did you ever?"--"By

Jove, there's a go!"--"Lord save us! but that's fearsome!"--"I say, Bob,

d'ye no see him winking?" and other similar ejaculations caught our ear.

Presently the operator abandoned his first victim, and advanced towards

another, with the look of a rattlesnake, who, having bolted one rabbit, is

determined to exterminate the warren. The second gutter-blood succumbed.

His resistance to the mesmeric agency was even weaker than the other's:

and, indeed, to judge from the rapidity of his execution, the marvellous

fluid was now pouring in cataracts from the magic fingers of the adept. In

a very few seconds the whole of the lads were as fast asleep as dormice.

Leaving them in their chairs, like so many slumbering Cupids, the lecturer

next proceeded to favour us with a dissertation upon the functions of the

brain. Cries of "Get on!"--"Gar them speak!"--"We ken a' aboot it!"

assured him at once of the temper and the acquired information of the

Modem Athenians; so, turning round once more, he pitched upon Lazarillo as

a subject. So far as our memory will serve us, the following is a fair

report of the colloquy.

"Are you asleep, my little boy?"

"I should think sae!"

"Do you feel comfortable?"

"No that ill. What was ye speering for?"

"Ha! a cautious boy! You observe, ladies and gentlemen, how remarkably the

natural character is developed during the operation of the mesmeric

trance. An English boy, I assure you, would have given me a very different

reply. Let us now proceed to another test. You see, I take him by the

hand, and at the same time introduce this piece of lump sugar into my own

mouth. Remark how instantaneously the muscles of his face are affected. My

little fellow, what is that you are eating?"

"Sweeties."

"Where did you get them?"

"What's yeer bizziness?"

"Well, well--we must not irritate him. Let us now change the

experiment--how do you like this?"

"Fich!--proots!--Ye nastie fellie, if ye pit saut in ma mooth, I'll hit ye

a duff in the muns!"

"How! I do not understand you!"

"A dad in the haffits."

Here a benevolent gentleman, with a bald head and spectacles, was kind

enough to act as interpreter, and explained to the scientific Anglican the

meaning of the minatory term.

"Ha! our young friend is becoming a little restive. We must alter his

frame of mind. Observe, ladies and gentlemen, I shall now touch the organ

of Benevolence."

With an alacrity which utterly dumbfoundered us, the young hope of the

Crosscauseway now sprung to his feet. His hands were precipitately plunged

into the inmost recesses of his corduroys.

"Puir man! puir man!" he exclaimed with a deep expression of sympathy,

"ye're looking far frae weel! Ay, ay! a wife and saxteen weans at hame,

and you just oot o' the hospital!--Hech-how! but this is a weary warld.

Hae--it's no muckle I can gie ye, but tak it a'--tak it a'!"

So saying, he drew forth from his pockets a miscellaneous handful of

slate-pencil, twine, stucco-bowls, and, if we mistake not, gib--a

condiment much prized by the rising generation of the metropolis--all of

which he deposited, as from a cornucopia, at the feet of the delighted

lecturer.

A loud hum of admiration arose from the back-benches. Charity is a popular

virtue, as you may learn at the theatre, from the tumultuous applause of

the gallery whenever the hero of the melodrama chucks a purse at the head

of some unfortunate starveling. Two old ladies in our neighbourhood began

to whimper; and one of them publicly expressed her intention of rewarding

with half-a-crown the good intentions of the munificent Lazarillo, so soon

as the lecture was over. This seemed to inspire him with a fresh accession

of benevolence; for, the organ being still excited, he made another

desperate attempt, and this time fished up a brass button.

"Let us now," said the magician, "excite the counter organ of

Secretiveness; and, in order to give this experiment its full effect, I

shall also irritate the kindred organs of Acquisitiveness and Caution."

To our great disgust, Lazarillo instantly threw off the character of

Howard, and appeared in that of David Haggart. He was evidently mentally

prowling with an associate in the vicinity of a stall bedecked with

tempting viands, irresistible to the inner Adam of the boy.

"I say, Tam! did ye ever see sic speldrings? Eh, man--but they'd be grand

chowin! What'n rock!--and thae bonnie red-cheekit aipples! Whisht-ye,

man--bide back in the close-head, or auld Kirsty will see ye! Na--she's no

lookin' now. Gang ye ahint her, and cry oot that ye see a mad dowg, and

I'll make a spang at the stall! That's yeer sort! I've gotten a hantle o'

them. Stick them into ma pouches for fear they tumble oot, and we'll rin

doon to the King's Park and hide them at the auld dyke!"

"This boy," said the operator, "evidently imagines himself to be engaged

in an act of larceny. Such is the wonderful power of mesmerism, and such

and so varied is the peculiar idiosyncrasy of the human frame. What we

call man is a shell of virtue and of vice. In the same brain are contained

the virtues of an Aristides, and the coarse malignity of a Nero. I could

now, ladies and gentlemen, very easily procure from this lad the

restitution of his imaginary spoils, by simply exciting the organ of

Justice, which at once would prompt him to a full and candid confession.

But I shall prefer to develop the experiment, by slightly awakening the

powerful functions of Terror, an organ which we dare not trifle with, as

the consequences are sometimes calamitous. I think, however, from the

peculiar construction of this boy's head, that we may safely make the

attempt. Mark the transition."

The hair of Lazarillo bristled.

"Gosh, Tam! are ye sure naebody seed us! Wha's that wi' the white breeks

comin' down the close? Rin, man, rin--as sure's death it's the poliss! O

Lord! what will become o' ma puir mither gin they grup me! O man--let's

in! let's in! The door's fast steekit--Mercy--mercy--mercy--! Tak' yeer

knuckles oot o' ma neck, and I'll gie ye the hale o' them back. It wasna

me, it was Tam that did it! Ye're no gaun to tak us up to the office for

sic a thing as that?--O dear me--dear me--dear me!" and the voice of

Lazarillo died away in almost inarticulate moaning.

This scene had so affected the nerves of our fair neighbour in the bonnet,

that, out of common civility, we felt ourselves compelled to offer a

little consolation. In the mean time, the stern operator continued to

aggravate the terrors of poor Lazarillo, whose cup of agony was full even

to the brim, and who now fancied himself in the dock, tried, and found

guilty, and awaiting with fear and tribulation the tremendous sentence of

the law.

"O, ma lord, will ye no hae mercy on us? As true as I'm stannin' here,

it's the first time I ever stealt ony thing. O whaur's mither? Is that her

greeting outside? O, ma lord, what are ye puttin' on that black hat for?

Ye daurna hang us surely for a wheen wizzened speldrings!--O dear--O dear!

Is there naebody will say a word for me? O mercy--mercy! Wae's me--wae's

me! To be hangit by the neck till I'm deid, and me no fifteen year auld!"

"We shall now," said the operator, "conduct our young friend to the

scaffold"--

"Stop, sir!" cried the benevolent gentleman in the spectacles--"I insist

that we shall have no more of this. Are you aware, sir, that you are

answerable for the intellects of that unhappy boy? Who knows but that the

cruel excitement he has already undergone may have had the effect of

rendering him a maniac for life? I protest against any further exhibition

of this nature, which is absolutely harrowing to my own feelings and to

those of all around me. What if the boy should die?"

"Let alane Jimsy!" cried a voice from the back row. "I ken him fine; he'll

dee nane."

"I shall have much pleasure, sir," said the mesmerist, with a polite bow,

"in complying with your humane suggestion. At the same time, let me assure

you that your apprehensions are without foundation. Never, I trust, in my

hands, shall science be perverted from its legitimate object, or the

glorious truths I am permitted to display, minister in the slightest

degree to the wretchedness of any one individual of the great human

family. I shall now awaken this boy from his trance, when you will find

him wholly unconscious of every thing which has taken place."

Accordingly, he drew forth his bandana, flapped it a few times before the

eyes of Lazarillo, and then breathed lightly on his forehead. The boy

yawned, rubbed his eyes, stretched his limbs, sneezed, and then rose up.

"How do you feel?" asked the operator.

"A wee stiff--that's a.'"

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"I'd rather hae yill."

"Do you recollect what you have been doing?"

"I've been sleeping, I think."

"Nothing more?"

"Naething. What else should I hae been doing? I say--I want to gang hame."

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think we may dismiss this boy."

Lazarillo, however, did not show any immediate hurry to depart. He

lingered for a while near that edge of the platform where the two aged

ladies were seated, as though some faint vaticination of the advent of

half-a-crown still haunted his bewildered faculties. But the profligacy of

his latter conduct had effaced all memory of the liberality with which he

first dispensed his earthly treasures. His unhallowed propensity for

speldrings had exhibited itself in too glaring colours, and each lady,

while she thought of the pilfered Kirsty, clutched her reticule with a

firmer grasp, as though she deemed that the contents thereof were not

altogether safe in the vicinity of the marvellous boy. At length, finding

that delay was fruitless, Lazarillo, _alias_ Jimsy, went his way.

The phrenological organs of the remaining lads were now subjected to

similar experiments. These were, we freely admit, remarkably interesting.

One youth, being called upon to give a specimen of his imitative powers,

took off our friend Frederick Lloyd of the Theatre-Royal to the life;

whilst another treated us to a very fair personification of Edmund Glover.

Some youths in the back gallery began to whistle and scream, and the

sounds were regularly caught up and transmitted by the slumbering mimics.

A learned Pundit, who sate on the same bench with ourselves, favoured them

with a German sentence, which did certainly appear to us to be repeated

with some slight difference of accent. A Highland divinity student went

the length of asserting that the reply was conveyed in Gaelic, which, if

true, must be allowed to throw some light upon the knotty subject of the

origin of languages. Is it possible that, in the mesmeric trance, the mind

in some cases rejects as artificial fabric all the educated

conventionality of tongues, and resumes unconsciously the original and

genuine dialect of the world? We have a great mind, at some future moment

of leisure, to indite an article on the subject, and vindicate, in all its

antiquity, the speech of Ossian and of Adam.

We shall pass over several of the same class of experiments, such as the

display of Adoration, which struck us as bordering very closely upon the

limits of profanity. In justice to the operator, we ought to mention that

they were all remarkably successful. We admired the dexterity with which

two lads, under the savage influence of combativeness, punched and squared

at each other; we were pleased with the musical talents of another boy,

who varied the words, airs, and style of his singing as the fingers of the

mesmerist wandered around the several protuberances of his cranium. In

fact, we saw before us a human organ of sound, played upon with as much

ease as a mere pianoforte. After such exhibitions as these, it was

impossible to remain a sceptic.

A grand chorus by the patients, of "Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," under

the influence of some bump corresponding to Patriotism, terminated this

portion of the evening's entertainments. But all was not yet over. The

lecturer informed us that he would now exhibit the power of mesmerism over

the body, apart from the enchainment of the mental faculties--that is,

that he would produce paralysis in the limbs of a thinking and a sentient

being. We are ashamed to say that a cry of "Gammon!" arose from different

parts of the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said the undaunted sorcerer, "some incredulous

persons seem to doubt my power. You shall see it with your own eyes. I

shall now proceed to waken these boys, and submit them to the new

experiment."

In the twinkling of a handkerchief they were awake and lively, and beyond

a slight complaint from the pugilists of pain in the region of the

abdomen, and a very reasonable demand on the part of the musician for

lozenges, they did not seem at all the worse in consequence of their

recent exercise. One of them was now desired to stretch out his arm. He

did so. A few passes were made along it, and he remained in the attitude

of a fakeer.

"That lad's arm," said he of the mysterious art, "is now as fixed as

marble. He cannot take it down. Can you, O'Shaughnessy?"

"The divil a bit!" replied the Hibernian, a stout and brawny villain of

some two and twenty.

"Would any gentleman like to try it?" inquired the operator.

"It's myself has no manner of objections at all!" exclaimed a stalwart

medical student, springing upon the platform, amidst a shout of general

exultation. "Hould yerself tight, Pat, my boy; for, by the powers, I'll

twist ye like an ounce of pig-tail!"

"Tear and owns!"--replied O'Shaughnessy, looking somewhat dismayed, for

the volunteer was about as stout a Connaughter as it ever was our fortune

to behold. "Tear and owns! it isn't after breaking my arm you'd be at? Och

wirra! Would ye take a dirty advantage of a decent lad, and him as stiff

as a poker?"

"I protest against this exhibition!" said the benevolent gentleman, in

whom we now recognised a Vice-President of the Fogie Club. "The shoulder

of the man may be dislocated--or there may be a fracture of the ulna--or

some other horrid catastrophe may happen, and we shall all be prosecuted

for murder!"

"And am I not here to set the bone!" demanded the student indignantly

"Give us a hould of ye, Pat, and stand firm on your pins, for I'll work ye

like a pump-handle."

So saying, he closed with O'Shaughnessy. But that wary individual, whilst

he abandoned his arm to the student, evidently considered himself under no

obligation to forego the use of his legs. He spun round and round like a

teetotum, and stooped whenever an attempt was made to draw him down, but

still the arm remained extended.

"You see, ladies and gentlemen!" said the operator, after the scuffle was

over--"You see how the power of the mesmeric fluid operates above the

exertion of physical force. This amazingly powerful young gentleman has

totally failed to move the arm one inch from its place."

"I'd move it fast enough, if he'd only stand still," replied the student.

"I'll tell you what. I look upon the whole thing as egregious humbug.

There's my own arm out, and I defy either you or Pat to bring it down!"

"Excuse me, sir," replied the mesmerist with dignity--"We do not meet here

to practise feats of strength, but to discuss a scientific question. I

appeal to this intelligent individual, who has taken so distinguished a

part in the interesting proceedings of this evening, whether I am in any

way bound to accept such a challenge."

"Certainly not--certainly not!" said the Vice-President, delighted with

this appeal to his understanding.

"You hear the remark of the gentleman, sir," said the mesmerist. "May I

now beg you will retire, and permit me to go on with the experiments?"

"Take it all your own way, then," replied the student, reluctantly

retiring from the platform; "but as sure's I am out of purgatory, that

lad's arm was no more fixed than your tongue!"

This slight episode over, the work went on accordingly. Paralysis

flourished in all its shapes. One lad was spellbound to the floor, and

could not move a yard from the spot, though encouraged to do so by an

offer of twenty pounds from the liberal and daring artist. What effect the

superadded security of the Vice-President might have had upon the

patient's powers of locomotion, we really cannot say. Another, as he

assured us, was utterly deprived of sight by a few cross passes of the

operator--a third was charmed into dumbness--whilst a fourth declared his

readiness to be converted into a pin-cushion; but was, at the intreaty of

some ladies and our benevolent acquaintance, exempted from that

metamorphosis, and merely endured, without murmuring, a few nips from the

fingers of the lecturer.

This closed the _seance_. We moved a vote of thanks to the Mesmerist for

his gratifying exertions, and then retired to our Club to meditate upon

the subject over a comfortable board of pandores. A few days afterwards,

we met our friend the young Indian officer in Prince's Street.

"I say, old fellow," quoth the Jemadar, "that was a confounded take-in the

other night."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, that magnetizing nonsense. Not a soul of then was asleep after all."

"Do you wish me to disbelieve the evidence of my own senses?"

"You may believe whatever you like; I only wish you had been with us last

Tuesday at a meeting we held in the Cafe. If you've got any tin about you,

and don't mind standing an ice or so at Mrs Stewart's, I'll tell you all

about it."

Our desire for truth overcame our habitual parsimony. We led the way into

the back saloon, and at a moderate expenditure became possessed of the

following particulars:--

"You see," said the Jemadar, sipping his cherry bounce, "there were a lot

of clever fellows sitting near me the other night, and I made out from

what they said that they were by no means satisfied with the whole

proceeding. Now, as I have seen a thing or two in India, where, by Jove, a

native will make a mango-tree grow out of a flowerpot before your eyes,

and bear fruit enough in a few months to keep a large family for a year in

pickles--and as I knew all about snake-charming, the singeing of tiger's

whiskers, and so forth, I thought I might be of some use to the scientific

birds; so, when the meeting broke up, I proposed an adjournment and a

tumbler. I looked about for you, but you seemed more agreeably occupied."

"You never were in a greater mistake in your life."

"Well--that's all one; but I thought so. They were quite agreeable, and we

passed a very pleasant evening. There were two or three young advocates

who went the pace in regular style, a fair sprinkling of medicos, and that

Irish student who handled the humbug on the platform; and who, let me tell

you, is little short of a perfect trump. We reviewed the whole

experiments, quite impartially, over a moderate allowance of alcohol, and

were unanimously of opinion that it was necessary, for the interests of

science, to examine into the matter more closely. One of the company

undertook to procure the attendance of some of those lads whom you saw

upon the platform; and another, who believes in mesmerism, but scouts the

idea of phrenology, was acquainted with a creditable magnetizer, who, he

said, would be sure to attend. We fixed our meeting for the second evening

afterwards, and then adjourned.

"When the appointed hour came, we mustered to the number of about thirty.

Some scientific fellows about town had got wind of the thing, and wished

to be present: to this we made no manner of objection, as it was not a

hole-and-corner meeting. Of course, we took care that the lecturer should

know nothing about it--indeed, he had left Edinburgh, for the purpose, I

suppose, of enlightening the gallant Glaswegians; so that we had nothing

to fear on the ground of secret influence. Well, sir, we elected a

President, who gave his vote in favour of the postponement of beer until

all the experiments were over, and had in the raggamuffins, who at their

own request were each accompanied by a friend. They did not look quite

easy on finding themselves introduced to such an assemblage, but native

brass prevailed--they were in for it, and they durst not recede.

"After a pretty tight examination by the President as to their former

experiences and sensations, which of course resulted in nothing, one of

the lads--the fellow who became blind--consented to be mesmerised by his

brother. The latter, a very sheepish-looking sort of journeyman, went

awkwardly through the usual flummery of passes, and then ensued this

dialogue.

"'Hoo are ye, Jock?'"

"'Man, I'm blind!'"

"'Can ye see naething?'"

"'Naething ava. It's jist a' blackness afore me. Gudesake, dinna keep us

lang this way--it's positeevely fearsome.'"

"'Gentlemen,' said the brother, 'I hope you'll no be ower lang wi' oor

Jock. Puir fallow! he's no jist a' thegether right in the nerves, and a

wee thing is eneuch to upset him. Dinna handle him roughly, sir!' he

continued, as one of our party commenced turning up his sleeves

preparatory to an ocular demonstration; 'ye manna pit your hand upon

him--it's enough to destroy the haill mesmereesin' influence, and he'll

gang into a fit. Nane but the operawtor should touch him. Gin ye want to

look into his een, I'se haud up the lids myself.'

"He did so; and sure enough he disclosed a couple of unmeaning grey

gooseberry orbs which stared perseveringly upon vacancy. A medical

gentleman approached a candle towards them without any visible effect. The

urchin was perfect in his calling. He did not even shrink at the rapid

approach of a finger.

"I was convinced in my own mind," continued the Jemadar, "that this was a

piece of absolute humbug. The anxiety of the brother to keep every person

at a distance was quite palpable, so I had recourse to stratagem to get

him out of the way. We pretended to give the boy a momentary respite, and

a proffered pot of porter proved a bait too tempting to the Argus of the

blind. In short, we got him out of the room, and then resumed our

examination of Jock, who still pled, like another Homer, to absolute want

of vision.

"'This is really very extraordinary, gentlemen,' said I, assuming the airs

of a lecturer, but getting carefully in the rear of patient. 'I am now

perfectly convinced that this boy is, by some inexplicable means, deprived

of the functions of sight. You observe that when I advance the finger of

my right hand towards his right eye--so--there is not the slightest

shrinking or palpable contraction of the iris. It is the same when I

approach the left eye--thus. If any gentleman doubts the success of the

experiment, I shall again make it on the right eye.'

"But this time, instead of probing the dexter orbit, for which he was

prepared, I made a rapid pass at the other. The effect was instantaneous.

A spasmodic twitch of the eyelid betrayed the acuteness of Jock's ocular

perception.

"'He winks, by the soul of Lord Monboddo!' cried one of my legal

acquaintances. 'I saw it perfectly plainly!'

"'Ye're leein'!' retorted Jock, whose pease-soup complexion suddenly

became flushed with crimson--"'Ye're leein'! I winkit nane. It was a flea.

Did ye no see that I winkit nane when ye pit the lancet forrard?'

"'Oh! my fine fellow!' replied the Advocate, a youth who had evidently

picked up a wrinkle or two at circuit, 'you've fairly put your foot into

it this time. Not a living soul has said a single word about a lancet, and

how could you know that this gentleman held in his hand unless you

positively saw it?'

"This was a floorer, but Jock would not abandon his point.

"'Ye dinna ken what mesmereesin' is,' he exclaimed. 'It's a shame for a

wheen muckle chaps like you to be trying yer cantrips that way on a laddie

like me. It's no fair, and I'll no stand it ony langer. Whaur's my

brither? Let me gang, I say--I'm no weel ava'!' and straightway the

miraculous boy girded up his loins, and flew swiftly from the apartment.

"Pat O'Shaughnessy was next brought forward to exhibit once more his

unparalleled feat of rigidity. Confident in the strength of his brawny

arm, the young Milesian evinced no scruples. The magnetist who had

attended, at our request--a pleasant gentlemanly person--made the usual

passes along the arm, and O'Shaughnessy stood out in the attitude of the

Pythian Apollo.

"I tried to bend his arm at the elbow, but sure enough I could not do it.

The fellow had the muscles of a rhinosceros, and defied my utmost efforts.

The magnetizer now began to exhibit another phenomenon. He made a few

passes downwards, and the arm gradually fell, as if there were some

undefinable attraction in the hand of the operator. He then reversed the

motion, and the arm slowly ascended. Being quite convinced that in this

case there was no collusion, I said a few words to the operator, who then

took his post _behind_ the giant carcase of the navigator. A friend of the

latter, who was detected dodging in front of him, was politely conducted

to the door, and in this way the experiment was tried.

"'Now sir,' said I, 'will you have the kindness to attract his arm

upwards? I am curious to see if the mesmeric principle applies equally to

all the muscles.'

"'Faix!' volunteered O'Shaughnessy, 'it does that, and no mistake. Ye

might make me hould up my fist on the other side of an oak door!'

"I am sorry for the honour of Tipperary. The operator, as had been

privately agreed on, commenced the downward passes, when, to our extreme

delight, the arm of O'Shaughnessy rose directly upwards, until his fist

pointed to the zenith!

"'Beautiful!--admirable!--miraculous!' shouted half a dozen voices.

"'Now, sir, will you try if you can take it down?'

"'The magnetiser made efforts which, if successful, would have enabled

O'Shaughnessy to count the number of his own dorsal vertebrae. He didn't

seem, however, to have any such passion for osteology. The arm gradually

declined, and at last reposed passively by his side. A general cheer

proclaimed the success of the experiment.

"'Mr Chairman,' said one gentleman, 'I move that it be recorded as the

opinion of this meeting, that the late exhibitions of mesmerism, as

exhibited in this city, were neither more nor less than a tissue of

unmitigated humbug!'

"'After what we have seen this evening,' said another, 'I do not feel the

slightest hesitation in seconding that motion.'

"'And I move,' said a third, 'that in case that motion should be carried,

we do incontinently proceed to supper.'

"So far as I recollect, there was not a dissentient voice in the room to

either proposition.

"'Axing yer pardon,' said O'Shaughnessy, advancing to the chairman, 'it's

five shillings I was promised for time and trouble, and expinces in

attending this mating. Perhaps yer honour will allow a thrifle over and

above to my friend Teddy yonder, who came to see that I wasn't bothered

all at onst?'

"'You are an impudent scoundrel, sir,' said the chairman, 'and deserve to

be kicked down stairs. However, a promise is a promise. There is your

money, and let us never see your face again.'

"'Och, long life to yese all!' said the undaunted O'Shaughnessy, 'but its

mismirism is a beautiful science! Divil a barrow have I wheeled this last

month on the North British Railway, and it isn't soon that I'll be after

doing it again. Teddy, ye sowl! let's be off to the ould place, and dhrink

good luck to the gintlemin in a noggin.'

"Such," concluded the Jemadar, "was the result of our meeting; and I can

tell you that you lost a rich treat by not hearing of it in time."

"I don't want to be disenchanted," said we. "Nothing that you have said

can shake my firm belief in mesmerism in all its stages. I allow that the

science, like every thing else, is liable to abuse, but that does not

affect my faith in the slightest degree. Have you ever read Chauncey Hare

Townshend's book? Why, my dear fellow, he has magnetized a female patient,

through mere volition alone, at the other end of the town; and I have not

the remotest doubt that it is quite possible to exercise the same powers

between Edinburgh and Madras. What a beautiful thought it is that two

lovers, separated by land and ocean, may yet exercise a sweet influence

over each other--that at a certain hour, a balmy slumber, stealing over

their frames, apprises them that their souls are about to meet in

undisturbed and tranquil union! That in a few moments, perhaps, far, far

above the galaxy"--

"Oh, confound the galaxy!" interrupted the prosaic Jemadar. "If you're

going on in that style, I shall be off at once. I have no idea of any

communication quicker than the electric telegraph; and as for your

sympathies, and that sort of rubbish, any body may believe them that

likes. I suppose, too, you believe in clair-voyance?"

"Most assuredly," we replied. "The case of Miss M'Avoy of Liverpool--of

Prince Hohenlohe, and many others"----

"Are all very wonderful, I daresay; but I should like to see the thing

with my own eyes. A friend of mine told me, no later than yesterday, that

he had been present at a meeting, held in a professional gentleman's

house, for the purpose of testing the powers of a lad said to be

clair-voyant, who was exhibited by one of those itinerant lecturers. In

addition to the usual bandages, of which there was much suspicion, a mask,

previously prepared, was put upon the face, so that all deception was

impossible. In this state, the boy, though professedly in the mesmeric

sleep, could see nothing. He fingered the cards--fumbled with the

books--but could read no more than my poodle-dog. In fact, the whole thing

was considered by every one present not only a failure, but a rank and

palpable sham; and until I have some better evidence in support of these

modern miracles, I shall take the liberty of denouncing the system as one

of most impudent imposture."

"But, my dear fellow, recollect the number of persons of rank and

station--the highly intellectual and cultivated minds which have formed a

directly opposite opinion. What say you to Van Helmont? What say you to

Michael Scott,

'A wizard of such dreaded fame,

That when in Salamanca's cave,

Him listed his magic wand to wave,

The bells would ring in Notre Dame?'

What say you to the sympathetic secrets still known to be preserved in the

monastery of Mount Carmel? What say you"--

"I say," replied the Jemadar, "that you are beginning to talk most

infernal nonsense, and that I must be off, as I have an engagement at

three to play a match at billiards. In the meantime, you'll oblige me by

settling with Mrs Stewart for the ices."

COOKERY AND CIVILISATION.[12]

It is only after passing through an ordeal cruelly insidious, tolerably

severe, and rather protracted, that we feel conscientiously entitled to

assert our ability to dine every day of every week at the Reform Club,

without jeopardy to those immutable principles which are incorruptible by

Whigs and indestructible by Rats. A sneer, perhaps, is curling with

"beautiful disdain" the lips of some Conservative Achilles. Let us nip his

complacent sense of invulnerability in the bud. To eat and to err are

equally attributes of humanity. Looking at ourselves in the mirror of

honest criticism, we behold features as unchangeable as sublunary

vicissitudes will allow.

"Time writes no wrinkles on our azure brow."