_Coke Clifton to Guy Fairfax_
_London, Dover Street_
I am caught, Fairfax! Spring guns and man traps have been set for me,
and I am legged! Meshed! Shot through the heart! I have been their
puppet! They have led me, with a string through my nose, a fine dance!
From the farthest part of all Italy here to London, in order to tie me
up! Noose me with a wife! And, what is more strange, I am thanking and
praising and blessing them for it, in spite of my teeth! I swallow the
dose as eagerly as if it had been prepared and sweetened by my own
hand; and it appears I have had nothing to do in the matter! I am a
mere automaton; and as such they have treated me!
Is it not cursed odd that I cannot be angry? And yet, when I recollect
all this, I really suspect I am not pleased. Damn it! To be made their
convenient utensil! To be packed up, their very obedient jack in a
bandbox, and with a proper label on my back, posted with other lumber
from city to city, over hills and seas, to be taken out and looked at,
and if not liked returned as damaged ware! Ought I to sneak and submit
to this? Tell me, will not the court of honour hoot me out of its
precincts? Will not the very footmen point after me, with a 'There goes
the gentleman that miss had upon liking?' Why it is not yet full two
months, since I was the very prince of high blooded noble sportsmen, in
the romantic manors, domains, coverts and coveys of Venus! By what
strange necromancy am I thus metamorphosed, thus tamed?
I feel myself a husband by anticipation! I am become as pretty a
modest, well-behaved, sober, sentimental gentleman, as any you shall
see on a summer's day! I get phrases by rote, and repeat them too! I
say 'God bless you, madam,' when the cat sneezes: and mumble amen to
grace after meat!
I told you that I had my catechism to learn; and, what is worse, it is
not the questions and commands of good old mother church, with all the
chance-medley promises and vows of godfathers and godmothers made in my
name, [For which, by the bye, I think both godfathers and godmothers
are fools, and knaves.] but I have the Lord knows how much more to
learn than ever I supposed the most outrageous morality could have
exacted. And I am obliged to answer yes, and no, and I thank you
kindly, while my finger's ends are smoking, tingling, and aching under
the stroke of the ferula! Yes! I, Coke Clifton, with my sweetmeats in
one hand and my horn-book in the other, am whipped till I pule, coaxed
till I am quiet, and sent supperless to bed, if I presume to murmur!
Why what the devil is the English of all this, say you, Clifton? What
does it mean? My head is so full of it, and I have it so all by rote
myself, that it had totally escaped me that every word I have uttered
must be heathen Greek to you. Nay I had forgotten to tell you we have
changed the scene, which now is London.
And as for accidents, by sea and land, why we have had some of them
too. Frank Henley has again shewn his dexterity. I could eat my
fingers, to think that he should hit upon a certain and safe mode of
acting, in a moment of danger, sooner than I! But so it is. He seems
born to cross me! We should all have been tossed into the sea, and some
of us certainly drowned at the very water's edge, if we had not been
alert. He took the command upon himself, as imperiously as if it were
his by right indisputable; and I saw no expedient but to obey, or
perhaps behold her perish. For curse upon me if I know whether any
other motive, on earth, could have induced me to act as his
subordinate. But, as it was, I did as he bid me; and sat grinding my
teeth at the helm, while I saw him reap all the honour of taking her in
his arms; and after her the rest, and landing them in safety! If,
Fairfax, you can conceive any anguish on earth more excruciating than
this, why tell it; and you shall be appointed head-tormentor to the
infernal regions, for your ingenuity!
What was I going to say?--My brain is as murky as the clouds under
which I am writing--Oh!--I recollect--She had no hand in spreading the
trammel, into which, buzzard like, I have been lured. It was the scheme
of my very good and careful mother; for which I have been very
sincerely writing her a letter with more thanks than words; and of the
wise Sir Arthur; who, wise though he be, is not one of the magi. She
knew nothing of it for some time, nor would have known but for my
communicative sister; and, as she scorns deception, for by my soul she
scorns every thing that is base, or derogatory, it was she who informed
me of the trap in which I have been taken; of which otherwise perhaps I
might have remained in eternal ignorance.