BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
* * * * *
NO. CCCCXXII. DECEMBER, 1850. VOL. LXVIII.
* * * * *
CONTENTS.
MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE. PART IV., 627
ANCIENT AND MODERN ELOQUENCE, 645
LAING'S OBSERVATIONS ON EUROPE, 671
WHO ROLLED THE POWDER IN? 689
A LECTURE ON JOURNALISM, 691
THE GREAT UNKNOWN, 698
MODERN STATE TRIALS. PART III., 712
THE DEFENCES OF BRITAIN, 736
THE POPISH PARTITION OF ENGLAND, 745
INDEX, 755
* * * * *
EDINBURGH:
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS, 45 GEORGE STREET;
AND 37 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON.
_To whom all communications (post paid) must be addressed._
SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
* * * * *
PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.
BLACKWOOD'S
EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.
NO. CCCCXXII. DECEMBER, 1850. VOL. LXVIII.
MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.
BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON.
BOOK II.--CHAPTER VII.
In spite of all his Machiavellian wisdom, Dr Riccabocca had been foiled
in his attempt to seduce Leonard Fairfield into his service, even
though he succeeded in partially winning over the widow to his views.
For to her he represented the worldly advantages of the thing. Lenny
would learn to be fit for more than a day-labourer; he would learn
gardening, in all its branches--rise some day to be a head gardener.
"And," said Riccabocca, "I will take care of his book learning, and
teach him whatever he has a head for."
"He has a head for everything," said the widow.
"Then," said the wise man, "everything shall go into it."
The widow was certainly dazzled; for, as we have seen, she highly
prized scholarly distinction, and she knew that the Parson looked
upon Riccabocca as a wondrous learned man. But still, Riccabocca was
said to be a Papist, and suspected to be a conjuror. Her scruples on
both these points the Italian, who was an adept in the art of talking
over the fair sex, would no doubt have dissipated, if there had
been any use in it; but Lenny put a dead stop to all negotiations.
He had taken a mortal dislike to Riccabocca; he was very much
frightened by him--and the spectacles, the pipe, the cloak, the long
hair, and the red umbrella; and said so sturdily, in reply to every
overture,--"Please, sir, I'd rather not; I'd rather stay along with
mother"--that Riccabocca was forced to suspend all farther experiments
in his Machiavellian diplomacy. He was not at all cast down, however,
by his first failure; on the contrary, he was one of those men whom
opposition stimulates. And what before had been but a suggestion of
prudence, became an object of desire. Plenty of other lads might no
doubt be had, on as reasonable terms as Lenny Fairfield; but the moment
Lenny presumed to baffle the Italian's designs upon him, the special
acquisition of Lenny became of paramount importance in the eyes of
Signor Riccabocca.
Jackeymo, however, lost all his interest in the traps, snares, and gins
which his master proposed to lay for Leonard Fairfield, in the more
immediate surprise that awaited him on learning that Dr Riccabocca had
accepted an invitation to pass a few days at the Hall.
"There will be no one there but the family," said Riccabocca. "Poor
Giacomo, a little chat in the servants' hall will do you good; and the
Squire's beef is more nourishing, after all, than the sticklebacks and
minnows. It will lengthen your life."
"The Padrone jests," said Jackeymo statelily, "as if any one could
starve in his service."
"Um," said Riccabocca. "At least, faithful friend, you have tried that
experiment as far as human nature will permit;" and he extended his
hand to his fellow-exile with that familiarity which exists between
servant and master in the usages of the Continent. Jackeymo bent low,
and a tear fell upon the hand he kissed.
"_Cospetto!_" said Dr Riccabocca, "a thousand mock pearls do not make
up the cost of a single true one! The tears of women, we know their
worth; but the tear of an honest man--Fie, Giacomo!--at least I can
never repay you this! Go and see to our wardrobe."
So far is his master's wardrobe was concerned, that order was pleasing
to Jackeymo; for the Doctor had in his drawers suits which Jackeymo
pronounced to be as good as new, though many a long year had passed
since they left the tailor's hands. But when Jackeymo came to examine
the state of his own clothing department, his face grew considerably
longer. It was not that he was without other clothes than those on
his back--quantity was there, but the quality! Mournfully he gazed
on two suits, complete in the three separate members of which man's
raiments are composed: the one suit extended at length upon his bed,
like a veteran stretched by pious hands after death; the other brought
piecemeal to the invidious light--the _torso_ placed upon a chair, the
limbs dangling down from Jackeymo's melancholy arm. No bodies long
exposed at the Morgue could evince less sign of resuscitation than
those respectable defuncts! For, indeed, Jackeymo had been less thrifty
of his apparel--more _profusus sui_--than his master. In the earliest
days of their exile, he preserved the decorous habit of dressing for
dinner--it was a respect due to the Padrone--and that habit had lasted
till the two habits on which it necessarily depended had evinced the
first symptoms of decay; then the evening clothes had been taken into
morning wear, in which hard service they had breathed their last.
The Doctor, notwithstanding his general philosophical abstraction from
such household details, had more than once said, rather in pity to
Jackeymo, than with an eye to that respectability which the costume
of the servant reflects on the dignity of the master--"Giacomo, thou
wantest clothes: fit thyself out of mine!"
And Jackeymo had bowed his gratitude, as if the donation had been
accepted: but the fact was, that that same fitting-out was easier said
than done. For though--thanks to an existence mainly upon sticklebacks
and minnows--both Jackeymo and Riccabocca had arrived at that state
which the longevity of misers proves to be most healthful to the
human frame,--viz., skin and bone--yet, the bones contained in the
skin of Riccabocca all took longitudinal directions; while those in
the skin of Jackeymo spread out latitudinally. And you might as well
have made the bark of a Lombardy poplar serve for the trunk of some
dwarfed and pollarded oak--in whose hollow the Babes of the Wood
could have slept at their ease--as have fitted out Jackeymo from the
garb of Riccabocca. Moreover, if the skill of the tailor could have
accomplished that undertaking, the faithful Jackeymo would never have
had the heart to avail himself of the generosity of his master. He
had a sort of religious sentiment, too, about those vestments of the
Padrone. The ancients, we know, when escaping from shipwreck, suspended
in the votive temple the garments in which they had struggled through
the wave. Jackeymo looked on those relics of the past with a kindred
superstition. "This coat the Padrone wore on such an occasion. I
remember the very evening the Padrone last put on those pantaloons!"
And coat and pantaloons were tenderly dusted, and carefully restored to
their sacred rest.
But now, after all, what was to be done? Jackeymo was much too
proud to exhibit his person, to the eyes of the Squire's butler, in
habiliments discreditable to himself and the Padrone. In the midst of
his perplexity the bell rang, and he went down into the parlour.
Riccabocca was standing on the hearth under his symbolical
representation of the "Patriæ Exul."
"Giacomo," quoth he, "I have been thinking that thou hast never done
what I told thee, and fitted thyself out from my superfluities. But we
are going now into the great world: visiting once begun, Heaven knows
where it may stop! Go to the nearest town and get thyself clothes.
Things are dear in England. Will this suffice?" And Riccabocca extended
a £5 note.
Jackeymo, we have seen, was more familiar with his master than
we formal English permit our domestics to be with us. But in his
familiarity he was usually respectful. This time, however, respect
deserted him.
"The Padrone is mad!" he exclaimed; "he would fling away his whole
fortune if I would let him. Five pounds English, or a hundred and
twenty-six pounds Milanese![1] Santa Maria! Unnatural father! And what
is to become of the poor Signorina? Is this the way you are to marry
her in the foreign land?"
"Giacomo," said Riccabocca, bowing his head to the storm; "the
Signorina to-morrow; to-day, the honour of the house. Thy
small-clothes, Giacomo. Miserable man, thy small-clothes!"
"It is just," said Jackeymo, recovering himself, and with humility;
"and the Padrone does right to blame me, but not in so cruel a way. It
is just--the Padrone lodges and boards me, and gives me handsome wages,
and he has a right to expect that I should not go in this figure."
"For the board and the lodgment, good," said Riccabocca. "For the
handsome wages, they are the visions of thy fancy!"
"They are no such thing," said Jackeymo, "they are only in arrear.
As if the Padrone could not pay them some day or other--as if I was
demeaning myself by serving a master who did not intend to pay his
servants! And can't I wait? Have I not my savings too? But be cheered,
be cheered; you shall be contented with me. I have two beautiful suits
still. I was arranging them when you rang for me. You shall see, you
shall see."
And Jackeymo hurried from the room, hurried back into his own chamber,
unlocked a little trunk which he kept at his bed head, tossed out a
variety of small articles, and from the deepest depth extracted a
leathern purse. He emptied the contents on the bed. They were chiefly
Italian coins, some five-franc pieces, a silver medallion enclosing
a little image of his patron saint--San Giacomo--one solid English
guinea, and two or three pounds' worth in English silver. Jackeymo
put back the foreign coins, saying prudently, "One will lose on them
here;" he seized the English coins, and counted them out. "But are you
enough, you rascals?" quoth he angrily, giving them a good shake. His
eye caught sight of the medallion--he paused; and after eyeing the tiny
representation of the saint with great deliberation, he added, in a
sentence which he must have picked up from the proverbial aphorisms of
his master--
"What's the difference between the enemy who does not hurt me, and
the friend who does not serve me? _Monsignore San Giacomo_, my patron
saint, you are of very little use to me in the leathern bag. But if
you help me to get into a new pair of small-clothes on this important
occasion, you will be a friend indeed. _Alla bisogna, Monsignore._"
Then, gravely kissing the medallion, he thrust it into one pocket, the
coins into the other, made up a bundle of the two defunct suits, and,
muttering to himself, "Beast, miser that I am, to disgrace the Padrone,
with all these savings in his service!" ran down stairs into his
pantry, caught up his hat and stick, and in a few moments more was seen
trudging off to the neighbouring town of L----.
Apparently the poor Italian succeeded, for he came back that evening in
time to prepare the thin gruel which made his master's supper, with a
suit of black--a little threadbare, but still highly respectable--two
shirt fronts, and two white cravats. But, out of all this finery,
Jackeymo held the small-clothes in especial veneration; for as they
had cost exactly what the medallion had sold for, so it seemed to him
that San Giacomo had heard his prayer in that quarter to which he had
more exclusively directed the saint's direction. The other habiliments
came to him in the merely human process of sale and barter; the
small-clothes were the personal gratuity of San Giacomo!
CHAPTER VIII.
Life has been subjected to many ingenious comparisons; and if we do
not understand it any better, it is not for want of what is called
"reasoning by illustration." Amongst other resemblances, there are
moments when, to a quiet contemplator, it suggests the image of one
of those rotatory entertainments commonly seen in fairs, all known by
the name of "whirligigs or roundabouts," in which each participator of
the pastime, seated on his hobby, is always apparently in the act of
pursuing some one before him, while he is pursued by some one behind.
Man, and woman too, are naturally animals of chase; the greatest still
finds something to follow, and there is no one too humble not to be an
object of prey to another. Thus, confining our view to the village of
Hazeldean, we behold in this whirligig Dr Riccabocca spurring his hobby
after Lenny Fairfield; and Miss Jemima, on her decorous side-saddle,
whipping after Dr Riccabocca. Why, with so long and intimate a
conviction of the villany of our sex, Miss Jemima should resolve upon
giving the male animal one more chance of redeeming itself in her
eyes, I leave to the explanation of those gentlemen who profess to
find "their only hooks in woman's looks" Perhaps it might be from the
over-tenderness and clemency of Miss Jemima's nature; perhaps it might
be that, as yet, she had only experienced the villany of man born and
reared in these cold northern climates; and in the land of Petrarch
and Romeo, of the citron and myrtle, there was reason to expect that
the native monster would be more amenable to gentle influences, less
obstinately hardened in his iniquities. Without entering farther into
these hypotheses, it is sufficient to say, that on Signor Riccabocca's
appearance in the drawing-room, at Hazeldean, Miss Jemima felt more
than ever rejoiced that she had relaxed in his favour her general
hostility to man. In truth, though Frank saw something quizzical in the
old-fashioned and outlandish cut of the Italian's sober dress; in his
long hair, and the _chapeau bras_, over which he bowed so gracefully,
and then pressed it, as if to his heart, before tucking it under his
arm, after the fashion in which the gizzard reposes under the wing of
a roasted pullet; yet it was impossible that even Frank could deny
to Riccabocca that praise which is due to the air and manner of all
unmistakeable gentleman. And certainly as, after dinner, conversation
grew more familiar, and the Parson and Mrs Dale, who had been invited
to meet their friend, did their best to draw him out, his talk, though
sometimes a little too wise for his listeners, became eminently
animated and agreeable. It was the conversation of a man who, besides
the knowledge which is acquired from books and life, had studied the
art which becomes a gentleman--that of pleasing in polite society.
Riccabocca, however, had more than this art--he had one which is
often less innocent--the art of penetrating into the weak side of his
associates, and of saying the exact thing which hits it plump in the
middle, with the careless air of a random shot.
The result was, that all were charmed with him; and that even Captain
Barnabas postponed the whist-table for a full hour after the usual
time. The Doctor did not play--he thus became the property of the two
ladies, Miss Jemima, and Mrs Dale.
Seated between the two, in the place rightfully appertaining to
Flimsey, who this time was fairly dislodged, to her great wonder and
discontent, the Doctor was the emblem of true Domestic Felicity, placed
between Friendship and Love.
Friendship, as became her, worked quietly at the embroidered
pocket-handkerchief, and left Love to its more animated operations.
"You, must be very lonely at the Casino," said Love, in a sympathising
tone.
"Madam," replied Riccabocca, gallantly, "I shall think so when I leave
you."
Friendship cast a sly glance at Love--Love blushed or looked down
on the carpet, which comes to the same thing. "Yet," began Love
again--"yet solitude, to a feeling heart--"
Riccabocca thought of the note of invitation, and involuntarily
buttoned his coat, as if to protect the individual organ thus
alarmingly referred to.
"Solitude, to a feeling heart, has its charms. It is so hard even for
us, poor ignorant women, to find a congenial companion--but for _you_!"
Love stopped short, as if it had said too much, and smelt confusedly at
its bouquet.
Dr Riccabocca cautiously lowered his spectacles, and darted one glance,
which, with the rapidity and comprehensiveness of lightning, seemed
to envelope and take in it, as it were, the whole inventory of Miss
Jemima's personal attractions. Now, Miss Jemima, as I have before
observed, had a mild and pensive expression of countenance, and she
would have been positively pretty had the mildness looked a little more
alert, and the pensiveness somewhat less lackadaisical. In fact, though
Miss Jemima was constitutionally mild, she was not _de naturâ_ pensive;
she had too much of the Hazeldean blood in her veins for that sullen
and viscid humour called melancholy, and therefore this assumption of
pensiveness really spoilt her character of features, which only wanted
to be lighted up by a cheerful smile to be extremely prepossessing.
The same remark might apply to the figure, which--thanks to the same
pensiveness--lost all the undulating grace which movement and animation
bestow on the fluent curves of the feminine form. The figure was a
good figure, examined in detail--a little thin, perhaps, but by no
means emaciated--with just and elegant proportions, and naturally light
and flexible. But that same unfortunate pensiveness gave the whole a
character of inertness and languor; and when Miss Jemima reclined on
the sofa, so complete seemed the relaxation of nerve and muscle, that
you would have thought she had lost the use of her limbs. Over her face
and form, thus defrauded of the charms Providence had bestowed on them,
Dr Riccabocca's eye glanced rapidly; and then moving nearer to Mrs
Dale--"Defend me" (he stopped a moment, and added,) "from the charge of
not being able to appreciate congenial companionship."
"Oh, I did not say that!" cried Miss Jemima.
"Pardon me," said the Italian, "if I am so dull as to misunderstand
you. One may well lose one's head, at least, in such a neighbourhood as
this." He rose as he spoke, and bent over Frank's shoulder to examine
some Views of Italy, which Miss Jemima (with what, if wholly unselfish,
would have been an attention truly delicate) had extracted from the
library in order to gratify the guest.
"Most interesting creature, indeed," sighed Miss Jemima, "but too--too
flattering!"
"Tell me," said Mrs Dale gravely, "do you think, love, that you could
put off the end of the world a little longer, or must we make haste in
order to be in time?"
"How wicked you are!" said Miss Jemima, turning aside.
Some few minutes afterwards, Mrs Dale contrived it so that Dr
Riccabocca and herself were in a farther corner of the room, looking at
a picture said to be by Wouvermans.
MRS DALE.--"She is very amiable, Jemima, is she not?"
RICCABOCCA.--"Exceedingly so. Very fine battle-piece!"
MRS DALE.--"So kind-hearted."
RICCABOCCA.--"All ladies are. How naturally that warrior makes his
desperate cut at the runaway!"
MRS DALE.--"She is not what is called regularly handsome, but she has
something very winning."
RICCABOCCA, with a smile.--"So winning, that it is strange she is not
won. That gray mare in the foreground stands out very boldly!"
MRS DALE, distrusting the smile of Riccabocca, and throwing in a more
effective grape charge.--"Not won yet; and it is strange!--she will
have a very pretty fortune."
RICCABOCCA.--"Ah!"
MRS DALE.--"Six thousand pounds, I daresay--certainly four."
RICCABOCCA, suppressing a sigh, and with his wonted address.--"If Mrs
Dale were still single, she would never need a friend to say what her
portion might be; but Miss Jemima is so good that I am quite sure it is
not Miss Jemima's fault that she is still--Miss Jemima!"
The foreigner slipped away as he spoke, and sate himself down beside
the whist-players.
Mrs Dale was disappointed, but certainly not offended.--"It would be
such a good thing for both," muttered she, almost inaudibly.
"Giacomo," said Riccabocca, as he was undressing, that night, in the
large, comfortable, well-carpeted English bedroom, with that great
English four-posted bed in the recess which seems made to shame folks
out of single-blessedness--"Giacomo, I have had this evening the offer
of probably six thousand pounds--certainly of four thousand."
"_Cosa meravigliosa!_" exclaimed Jackeymo--"miraculous thing!" and
he crossed himself with great fervour. "Six thousand pounds English!
why, that must be a hundred thousand--blockhead that I am!--more than
a hundred and fifty thousand pounds Milanese!" And Jackeymo, who was
considerably enlivened by the Squire's ale, commenced a series of
gesticulations and capers, in the midst of which he stopped and cried,
"But not for nothing?"
"Nothing! no!"
"These mercenary English!--the Government wants to bribe you."
"That's not it."
"The priests want you to turn heretic."
"Worse than that," said the philosopher.
"Worse than that! O Padrone! for shame!"
"Don't be a fool, but pull off my pantaloons--they want me never to
wear _these_ again!"
"Never to wear what?" exclaimed Jackeymo, staring outright at his
master's long legs in their linen drawers--"never to wear--"
"The breeches," said Riccabocca laconically.
"The barbarians!" faltered Jackeymo.
"My nightcap!--and never to have any comfort in this," said Riccabocca,
drawing on the cotton head-gear; "and never to have any sound sleep
in that," pointing to the four-posted bed. "And to be a bondsman and
a slave," continued Riccabocca, waxing wroth; "and to be wheedled
and purred at, and pawed, and clawed, and scolded, and fondled,
and blinded, and deafened, and bridled, and saddled--bedevilled
and--married."
"Married!" said Jackeymo, more dispassionately--"that's very bad,
certainly; but more than a hundred and fifty thousand _lire_, and
perhaps a pretty young lady, and"--
"Pretty young lady!" growled Riccabocca, jumping into bed and drawing
the clothes fiercely over him. "Put out the candle, and get along with
you--do, you villanous old incendiary!"