I’ll tell you more; there was a fish taken,
A monstrous fish, with, a sword by’s side, a long sword,
A pike in’s neck, and a gun in’s nose, a huge gun,
And letters of mart in’s mouth, from the Duke of Florence.
_Cleanthes_. This is a monstrous lie.
_Tony_. I do confess it.
Do you think I’d tell you truths!
—FLETCHER’S WIFE FOR A MONTH.
[The following adventures were related to me by the same nervous
gentleman who told me the romantic tale of THE STOUT GENTLEMAN,
published in Bracebridge Hall.
It is very singular, that although I expressly stated that story
to have been told to me, and described the very person who told
it, still it has been received as an adventure that happened to
myself. Now, I protest I never met with any adventure of the
kind. I should not have grieved at this, had it not been
intimated by the author of Waverley, in an introduction to his
romance of Peveril of the Peak, that he was himself the Stout
Gentleman alluded to. I have ever since been importuned by
letters and questions from gentlemen, and particularly from
ladies without number, touching what I had seen of the great
unknown.
Now, all this is extremely tantalizing. It is like being
congratulated on the high prize when one has drawn a blank; for I
have just as great a desire as any one of the public to penetrate
the mystery of that very singular personage, whose voice fills
every corner of the world, without any one being able to tell
from whence it comes. He who keeps up such a wonderful and
whimsical incognito: whom nobody knows, and yet whom every body
thinks he can swear to.
My friend, the nervous gentleman, also, who is a man of very shy,
Retired habits, complains that he has been excessively annoyed in
consequence of its getting about in his neighborhood that he is
the fortunate personage. Insomuch, that he has become a character
of considerable notoriety in two or three country towns; and has
been repeatedly teased to exhibit himself at blue-stocking
parties, for no other reason than that of being “the gentleman
who has had a glimpse of the author of Waverley.”
Indeed, the poor man has grown ten times as nervous as ever,
since he has discovered, on such good authority, who the stout
gentleman was; and will never forgive himself for not having made
a more resolute effort to get a full sight of him. He has
anxiously endeavored to call up a recollection of what he saw of
that portly personage; and has ever since kept a curious eye on
all gentlemen of more than ordinary dimensions, whom he has seen
getting into stage coaches. All in vain! The features he had
caught a glimpse of seem common to the whole race of stout
gentlemen; and the great unknown remains as great an unknown as
ever.]