A pang shot through my whole body at this last part of his question. I

recalled in an instant all my previous vexation. I remembered the

insults I had met with, not only from the students of Gottingen and

Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead, but from the domestics of Wolstang; and

lastly, I recollected the business which had brought me to the house of

the latter. Everything came as a flash of lightning through my brain,

and I was more perplexed than ever. My first impression was, that the

little man, in spite of his vast learning, was insane, or perhaps, as

Festus said of Paul, his madness was the consequence of too much

learning; but then, if he was insane, the Gottingen students must be

insane, Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead must be insane, and Wolstang's

domestics must be insane. "I am perhaps insane myself," thought I for an

instant; but this idea, I was soon satisfied, was incorrect. I sat for

several minutes pondering deeply upon the matter, and endeavouring to

extricate myself from this vexatious dilemma, while my companion

opposite kept eyeing me through his immense glasses, stroking his chin,

and smiling with the most lugubrious self-complacency. At length,

arousing myself from my stupor, I put the following question to him:--

"Did you ask me if I was sure that I am not Wolstang?"

"I did, sir," answered he with a bow.

"Then, sir, I must tell you that I am not that person, but Frederick

Stadt, student of philosophy in the University of Gottingen." He looked

incredulous.

"What, sir," said I, "do you not believe me?" He shrugged up his

shoulders.

"Confusion, sir! this is not to be borne. I tell you, sir, that my name

is Stadt." This I said in my loudest and most impassioned manner, but it

did not affect him in the least degree. He continued his eternal smile,

and had even the politeness or audacity (I know not which to call it) to

offer me his snuff-box. I was so enraged at this piece of coolness, that

I gave the box a knock, spilling its contents upon his scarlet

waistcoat. Even this did not ruffle him. He commenced, in the most

composed manner imaginable, to collect the particles, remarking with a

smile, "You do not like snuff, sir," and finishing, according to custom,

by one of his everlasting sneezes.

"It is impossible, sir," said I, "that you can mistake me for

Wolstang--seeing that, on my entry, you told me you expected that

gentleman in a short time, and desired me to be seated till he came in."

At this he seemed a little disconcerted, and was beginning to mutter

something in explanation, when I interrupted him. "Besides, sir,

Wolstang is a man at least six inches taller, four stones heavier, and

ten years older than I."

"What an immense fellow he must be, my dear friend! At that rate, he

ought to stand six feet eight inches, and weigh twenty stones."

I could hardly retain my gravity at this calculation. "Pray, what do you

take my stature and weight to be?"

"I should take you," replied he, "to be about six feet two inches high,

and to weigh some sixteen stones."

This admeasurement raised my merriment to its acme, and I laughed aloud.

"Know, then, my good little man, that all your geometry has availed you

nothing, for I only stand five feet eight, and never weighed more than

twelve stones." He shrugged up his shoulders once more, and put on

another of his incredulous looks.

"Eh, eh--I may be mistaken--but I--I--"

"Mistaken!" exclaimed I; "zounds, you were never more egregiously

mistaken, even when you advocated the Pythagorean doctrine of

Metempsychosis!"

"I may be wrong, but I could lay five gilders that I am right. I never

bet high--just a trifle, just a trifle occasionally."

"You had better keep your gilders in your pocket," said I, "and not risk

them so foolishly."

"With your permission, however, I shall back my pieces against

yours,"--and he drew five from a little green silk purse, and put them

on the table. I deposited an equal number.

"Now," said I, "how is this dispute to be settled? where can I get

myself weighed?"

"I believe," answered he, "there is a pair of scales in the room hard

by, and weights too, if I mistake not." He accordingly got up and opened

the door of the adjoining chamber, where, to my surprise, I beheld a

pair of immense scales hanging from the roof, and hundred and

half-hundred weights, &c. lying around. I seated myself in one of the

scales, chuckling very heartily at the scrape into which the little

fellow had brought himself. He lifted up weight after weight, placing

them upon the opposite scale. Eleven stones had been put in, and he was

lifting the twelfth;--"Now," says I, eyeing him waggishly, "for your

five gilders." He dropped the weight, but the beam never moved, and I

still sat on the lowest scale. Thirteen were put on, but my weight yet

triumphed. With amazement I saw fourteen and fifteen successively added

to the number, without effect. At last, on putting down the sixteenth,

the scale on which I sat was gently raised from the ground. I turned my

eyes upwards towards the needle, which I saw quivering as if uncertain

where to stop; at last it paused exactly in the centre, and stood erect:

the beam lay perfectly horizontal, and I sat motionless, poised in

middle air.

"You will observe, sir, that my calculation was correct," observed my

companion, taking a fresh pinch of snuff. "You are just sixteen stones.

Nothing now remains but to measure your height."

"There is no occasion for that," I replied, rising slowly from the

scale. "If you can contrive to make me weigh sixteen stones, you can

readily make me measure six feet two inches." I now threw myself down

on a seat in the study, which both of us had re-entered, placed my

elbows on the table, and buried my face in my hands, absorbed in deep

reflection. I thought and thought again upon every event which had

befallen me since the morning. The students of Gottingen--Doctor Dedimus

Dunderhead--the domestics of Wolstang--the little man with the

snuff-coloured surtout, scarlet waistcoat, and wooden leg, passed like

a whirlwind through my brain. Then the bust of Cicero, which I had

seen in the Louvre, the busts of the others which he drew from his

pockets--geometry--geomancy--transmigration of souls, and the affair of

the scales--the whole formed a combination which I found myself utterly

unable to comprehend. In a few minutes I looked up, exhausted with vain

thought. All the heads were gone except that of Pythagoras, which he

left lying in its place. He now took up his snuff-box and deposited it

in his waistcoat pocket--drew an old-fashioned watch out of his fob, and

looked at the hour--and, lastly, laying his hand upon the ten gilders,

he dropped them one by one into his green purse. "I believe," said he,

with a smile, "the money is mine." So saying, he snatched up his little

cocked-hat, made me half-a-dozen of bows, and bade me adieu, after

promising to see me at the same time and place two days after.

CHAPTER II.

Again did I bury my face in my hands; again did my fit of meditation

come on; I felt my bosom glowing with perplexity. It was now the scales

which occupied my thoughts, to the exclusion of everything else.

"Sixteen stones!--impossible, I cannot believe it. This old rascal has

cheated me. The weights he has put on must be defective--they must be

hollow. I will see to it in a moment, and if there has been any

deception, I shall break his bones the first time I set my eyes upon

him, maugre his wooden leg; I will at least smash his spectacles, trip

up his heels, and pull his hook nose." Full of these resolutions, I

proceeded to the adjoining room. Guess of my amazement, when, instead of

the great machines in which I had been weighed but ten minutes before, I

beheld nothing but a small pair of apothecary's scales, and a few

drachm, scruple, and grain weights scattered upon the floor.

Not knowing what to make of this, I returned to the study, when,

happening to look into a mirror placed behind the chair on which I had

been sitting, I beheld (joyous sight) the reflection of Wolstang. "Ah,

you have come?" said I, turning round to receive him, but nobody was to

be seen. I looked again through every part of the room; no Wolstang was

there. This was passing strange; where could the man have gone in such a

hurry? I was now in a greater funk than ever, when, casting my eyes a

second time upon the mirror, he again made his appearance. I instantly

looked round--no one was present; in another instant I turned to the

glass, and there stood the reflection as before. Not knowing what this

phenomenon could be, and thinking perhaps that my eyes were dazzled by

some phantom, I raised my hands, and rubbed them; Wolstang did the same.

I struck my forehead, bit my lip with vexation, and started back, when,

marvellous to relate, the figure in the glass repeated all my gestures.

I now got alarmed, and, shrinking away from the apparition, threw

himself upon the chair. In a few minutes, my courage being somewhat

revived, I ventured to face the mirror, but without any better

success--the same object presented itself. I desisted, and renewed

the trial several times with the like result. In vain was my

philosophy exerted to unfold this mystery. The doctrines of Aristotle,

the dreams of alchemy, and the wonders of the Cabala, presented

themselves in succession to my disordered fancy. I bethought me of

magic, necromancy, the witch of Endor, Simon Magus, the brazen head of

Friar Bacon, and a multitude of other phantasies. All was in vain;

nothing could account for the present occurrence; nothing in mystical

or scientific lore bore any analogy to it.

In this perturbed state of mind my eye caught the bust of Pythagoras.

This was a flood of light to my understanding. I instantly remembered

what the old fellow had hinted about transmigration of souls: I

remembered what he said about me being myself, or another person. Then

connecting this with the previous events of the day, with the Gottingen

students, with Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead, with Wolstang's domestics,

and, lastly, with the reflection in the looking-glass,--I say, coupling

all these things together, I came to the horrible conclusion that I was

not myself. "There must be some truth in the Pythagorean doctrine, and I

am labouring under a Metempsychosis."

To put the matter beyond a doubt, I went once more to the mirror, where

I beheld the same figure which had first startled me. I then looked at

my hands; they were larger and stronger than formerly. The dress I had

on was also not my own, but evidently that of Wolstang. Every

circumstance contributed to confirm me that I was no longer myself.

It would be a vain attempt for me to describe the horror I endured at

this dreadful transmogrification. After the first burst of dismay was

over, I wept bitterly, bewailing the loss of my dear body, which I now

felt convinced was gone from me for ever. "And poor Wolstang," cried I

lamentably, "you are no longer yourself. You are me and I am you, and

doubtless you are deploring your misfortune as bitterly as your unhappy

friend Stadt."

Night was now coming on, and it became necessary that I should resolve

upon what ought to be done in my present state. I soon perceived that it

would serve no purpose to say that I was myself; no one would have

believed me, and I would run the risk of being put in a strait-jacket as

a lunatic. To avoid these evils, there was no resource but to pass

myself off upon the community as Wolstang. Even here there was

considerable risk of being regarded mad; for how could I at once adapt

myself to his circumstances, get a knowledge of them, think as he

thought, and act as he acted? It was plain, that although I was Wolstang

in body, I was only Stadt in mind; and I knew that in disposition I was

as different as possible from Wolstang. "There is no help," said I,

weeping grievously; "it must be done."

In order to cool my heated brain, I went out into the open air, and

wandered about the streets. I was addressed by a number of persons whom

I did not know; and several of my acquaintances, to whom I inadvertently

spoke, did not know me. With the former I was very short, answering

their questions at random, and getting off as soon as possible. To the

latter I could only apologise, assuring them that they had been mistaken

by me for other persons. I felt my situation most unpleasant; for,

besides the consciousness of no longer being myself, I was constantly

running into the most perplexing blunders. For instance, after strolling

about for a considerable period, I came, as it were, by a sort of

instinct, to my own lodgings. For a time I forgot my situation, and

knocked at the door. It was opened by my domestic, from whom I took the

candle which he held in his hand, and, according to wont, walked into

the study. "Mr Stadt is not in, sir," said the man, following me;

"perhaps you will sit till he comes: I expect him soon." This aroused me

from my reverie, confirming too truly the fact that I was changed. I

started up from the seat into which I had dropped, rushed past him with

dismay, and gained the street. Here I made up my mind to return to

Wolstang's lodgings, which I accordingly did, in a mood which a

condemned criminal would hardly envy.

I kept the house for the whole of next day, employing myself in writing,

in order that the servants might at least see some cause for my

confinement. Notwithstanding this, it was easy to observe that they

perceived something unusual about me; and several remarks which escaped

them, convinced me that they considered my head touched in no slight

degree. Although I did all that I was able to compose myself, it was

impossible that I could think like Wolstang, and still less that I could

know a hundred private and household matters, on which the pert Louise

and sapient Barnabas made a point of consulting me. Whenever I was

spoken to concerning things that I knew, my answers were kind and

condescending; but on any point about which I was ignorant, I utterly

lost temper, and peremptorily forbade them to repeat it. Both shook

their heads at such inconsistent behaviour; and it was soon bruited

among the neighbours that Mr Albert Wolstang had parted with his senses.

The second day arrived, and found me in the same state of mind. The

amazement which succeeded the discovery of my metamorphosis had indeed

given way, and I could look at my reflection in the mirror with less

pain than at first; but my feelings were still as imbittered as ever,

and I ardently longed for death to put an end to such intolerable

misery. While brooding over these matters, the door of the study opened.

Thinking it was one of the domestics, I paid no attention to it; but in

a moment I heard a sneeze, which made my flesh creep, and in another the

little man with the snuff-coloured surtout, the scarlet waistcoat, and

the wooden leg, made his appearance. Since I last saw this old fellow, I

had conceived a mortal hatred against him. I thought, although the idea

was wild enough, that he had some hand in my Metempsychosis--and the

affair of the scales and the marble busts, together with his Pythagorean

opinions, his vast learning, his geomancy and astrology, gave to my idea

a strong confirmation. On the present occasion his politeness was

excessive; he bowed almost to the ground, made fifty apologies for

intruding, and inquired with the most _outre_ affectation of tenderness

into the state of my health. He then seated himself opposite to me, laid

his cocked-hat upon the table, took a pinch of snuff, and commenced his

intolerable system of sneezing. I was never less in a humour to relish

anything like foppery; so throwing myself back upon the chair, putting

on as commanding a look as I could, and looking at him fiercely, I said,

"So, sir, you are back again; I suppose you know me?"

"Know you, my dear friend--eh--yes, I derived great pleasure in being

made acquainted with you the day before yesterday. You are Mr Frederick

Stadt--that is to say, you are Mr Albert Wolstang."--(_A sneeze_).

"Then you know that I am not myself?"

"My dear friend," replied he, with a smile, "I hinted as much the last

time I saw you."

"And pray how did you ascertain that?"

"You don't ask me such a question," said he, with an air of surprise; "I

knew it by your own signature."

"My own signature! I know not what you mean by my signature."

"Eh--eh--the signature, you know--that is, the compact you made with

Wolstang."

"I know of no compact," cried I, in a passion; "nor did I ever make one

with any man living. I defy either you or Wolstang to produce any such

instrument."

"I believe it is in my pocket at this very moment. Look here, my dear

sir." And he brought out a small manuscript book, and, turning up the

leaves, pointed to view the following words:--

"I hereby, in consideration of the sum of fifty gilders, give

to Albert Wolstang the use of my body, at any time he is

disposed, provided that, for the time being, he gives me the

use of his.--FREDERICK STADT."

"It is a damnable forgery," said I, starting up with fury; "a _deceptio

visus_, at least--something like your scales."

"What about the scales, my dear friend?" said he, with a whining voice.

"Go," replied I, "into that room, and you shall see." He accordingly

went, but returned immediately, saying that he observed nothing

remarkable. "No!" said I, rising up; "then I shall take the trouble to

point it out to you." My astonishment may be better conceived than

described, when, instead of the small apothecary's scales, I beheld the

immense ones in which I had been weighed two days before. I felt

confounded and mortified, and returned with him to the study, muttering

something about _deceptio visus_, necromancy, and demonology.

"Well," continued I, after recovering a little, "what about this

compact--when and where was it made?"

"It was made some three days ago, at the Devil's Hoof Tavern. You may

remember that you and Wolstang were drinking there at that time."

"Yes, I remember it well enough; but I understood that I was putting my

name to a receipt for fifty gilders which he paid me. I never read the

writing; I merely subscribed it."

"That was a pity; for really you have bound yourself as firmly as

signing with a person's own blood can do."

"Did I sign it with my own blood?" said I, alarmed.

"Exactly so. You may recollect of cutting your finger. I had the

pleasure of stanching the blood, a sufficient quantity of which was

nevertheless collected to write this document."

"Then you were present," said I;--"yes, I have a recollection of your

face, now that you mention the circumstance. You were then dressed as a

clergyman, if I mistake not."

"Precisely."

"And what," continued I, "are the conditions on which I hold this

strange existence? Suppose Wolstang dies?"

"Then you keep his body till the natural period of your own death."

"Suppose I die?"

"He then keeps your body."

"Then, if he dies, my body is buried and goes to decay, while I am

clogged up in his body, till relieved from it by death?"

"Precisely."

This announcement struck me with terror. "And shall I never," said I,

weeping, "see my dear body again?"

"You may see it, if ever Wolstang comes in your way."

"But shall I never possess it--shall I never be myself again?"

"Not unless he pleases."

"The villain!" exclaimed I, in an agony of grief; "I am then undone--the

tool of a heartless unprincipled miscreant. Is my case hopeless?"

"O no, my dear friend," said the little man, "not at all hopeless; there

is nothing simpler than the remedy. Only put your name here, and you

will be yourself in a minute. The fellow will then lose all power over

your body." I seized with avidity the pen which he presented to me,

dipped it in a vial of red ink, and was proceeding to do as he

directed, when the writing above caught my eye. It ran thus:--

"I hereby engage, after my natural decease, to give over my

soul to the owner of this book."

"Zounds!" said I, "what is this?"

"It is nothing at all; just a form--a mere form of business, of no

intrinsic meaning. If you would just write your name--it is very easily

done."

"Has any other person signed such deeds?" demanded I.

"Many a one. Here, for example, is Wolstang's name attached to a similar

contract. It is, in fact, by virtue of this that he has the power over

your body. The deed which you have signed would have availed him nothing

without this one."

"Then," said I, "if you relieve me from my present condition, you break

faith with Wolstang, seeing that you deprive him of his stipulated

power."

"I deprive him of his power over you, but I give him in return a similar

power over some other person, which will answer his purpose equally

well. I think you had better sign."

"No, you old villain!" said I, wrought up to a pitch of fury at the

infernal plan which I saw he was meditating, "I will never sign your

damnable compact. I have religion enough to know the value of my soul,

and sufficient philosophy to bear with any wretchedness I may endure

under my present form. You may play the Devil if you choose, but you

shall never get me to act the part of Dr Faustus." I pronounced these

words in a voice of thunder; but so far from being angry, he used every

endeavour to soothe me--made a thousand apologies for having been the

unwilling cause of such a commotion; then, snatching up his hat and

making a profound bow, he left the room.

CHAPTER III.

A glow of conscious virtue passed over me on his departure. I found that

I had resisted evil, and gloried in the thought; but this triumphant

feeling gave way to one of revenge against the author of my calamity.

After reflecting for a short time, it occurred to me that the best way

to punish him would be to commit some outrage which might stamp him with

infamy, and render him miserable if ever he thought of resuming his

body. "I shall at least have him expelled from the university. This

shall be the first blow directed against his comfort. He will in time

become weary of my body, and will find very little satisfaction in his

own when he takes it into his head to make an exchange." Full of these

ideas, I entered the College court, where the first object that met my

eyes was Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead coming towards me--the baton in his

hand, the spectacles on his carbuncle nose, and his head thrown back as

he strutted along _a la militaire_. Without a moment's hesitation, I

advanced up to him and knocked off his cocked-hat; nor did I stop to see

how he looked at this extraordinary salutation, but walked deliberately

on. I heard him distinctly call after me, "You shall hear of this, sir,

by to-morrow." "When you please, doctor," was my answer. "Now, Master

Wolstang," said I to myself, "I have driven you from Gottingen College,

and wish you much joy of your expulsion." Such were my thoughts, and the

morrow verified them; for, a meeting of the Senatus Academicus being

summoned by the provost, that learned body declared Albert Wolstang

unfit to be a member of the university, and he was accordingly placarded

upon the gate and expelled, _in terrorem_.

This circumstance being just what I wanted, gave me no uneasiness; but a

few days thereafter an event arose out of it, which subjected me to much

inconvenience. Having unwittingly strolled into the College, I was

rudely collared by one of the officers, which so enraged me that I

knocked down the fellow with a blow of my fist. For this I was

apprehended the same day by three gendarmes, and carried before the

Syndic, who condemned me to suffer two weeks' close confinement, and to

be fed on bread and water. This punishment, though perhaps not

disproportioned to the offence, was, in my estimation, horribly severe;

and now, for the first time, did I feel regret for the absurdity of my

conduct. I found that in endeavouring to punish Wolstang I was in truth

only punishing myself, and that it was a matter of doubt whether he

would ever submit to a corporeal change, seeing that my fortune was much

more considerable than his own, and that he would come at it in the

course of six months. This I had no doubt was the chief consideration

which could have induced the fellow to bring about such a metamorphosis.

On getting out of prison I was the most miserable wretch on earth. The

fierce desire of vengeance had formerly kept up my spirits; but this was

now gone, and they sank to the lowest pitch. I found that I was spurned

by those very persons who were before most anxious to cultivate my

friendship. Barnabas and Louise had left me, resolving no longer to

serve one who had undergone the punishment of a malefactor. In order to

clear up matters, I frequently called at my own house to inquire if I

myself was at home--for so was I obliged to speak of the miscreant who

had possession of my body; but on every occasion I was answered in the

negative. "I had gone out to see a friend in town;" "I had gone to the

country;" "I was expected soon." Never by any possibility could I get a

sight of myself. All this convinced me that the case was hopeless, and

that I must make the best of my deplorable situation. Wolstang had

evidently played my part much better than I did his, for he had an

interest in doing so, and was (thanks to my simplicity) intimately

acquainted with the state of my affairs. If anything could add to this

irritation, it was to notice the improvements, or rather changes, which

the fellow was making in my house. Everything was turned upside down.

Many of the most valuable books in my library were brought to the

hammer, and replaced by more modern works. Some antique MSS. found among

the ruins of Pompeii, and on which I set a high value, were disposed of

in the same manner; together with my porphyry snuff-box, my mother's

diamond ring, my illuminated missal, and Arabic autograph of the Koran.

The money produced by these valuable relics was laid out in new-painting

my study, and in fitting it up with Chinese mandarins, silken pagodas,

and other pieces of Eastern trumpery.

In consequence of the peculiar opportunities which I enjoyed, I soon

discovered that Wolstang, whom I had long thought rather highly of, was

in reality a very bad character. Some persons of the worst description

in Gottingen appeared to have been his associates. Times without number

I was accosted as an acquaintance by gamblers, pickpockets, usurers, and

prostitutes; and through their means I unravelled a train of imposture,

profligacy, and dissipation, in which he had been long deeply involved.

I discovered that he had two mistresses in keeping; that he had seduced

the daughters of several of the most respectable citizens, and was the

father of no less than seven natural children, whom he had by those

unfortunate women. I found out even worse than this--at least what I

dreaded much more. This was a forgery to an immense amount, which he, in

concert with another person, had committed on an extensive mercantile

house. The accomplice, in a high state of trepidation, came to tell me

that the whole was in a fair way of being blown, and that if we wished

to save our necks, an instantaneous departure from the city was

indispensable. Such a piece of intelligence threw me into great alarm.

If I remained, my apprehension would be inevitable; and how would it be

possible for me to persuade any one that I was not Wolstang? My

conviction and execution must follow; and though I was now so regardless

of life that I would gladly have been in my grave, yet there was

something revolting in the idea of dying for a villain, merely because I

could not show that I was not myself. These reflections had their due

weight, and I resolved to leave Gottingen next day, and escape from the

country altogether.

While meditating upon this scheme, I walked about three miles out of

town for the purpose of maturing my plans, undisturbed by the noise and

bustle of the streets. As I was going slowly along, I perceived a man

walking about a furlong before me. His gait and dress arrested my

attention particularly, and after a few glances I was convinced that he

must be myself. The joy that pervaded my mind at this sight no language

can describe; it was as a glimpse of heaven, and filled me with perfect

ecstasy. Prudence, however, did not forsake me, and I resolved to steal

slowly upon him, collar him, and demand an explanation. With this view I

approached him, concealing myself as well as I could, and was so

successful that I had actually got within ten yards of my prey without

being discovered. At this instant, hearing footsteps, he turned round,

looked alarmed, and took to his heels. I was after him in a moment, and

the flight on one side, and pursuit on the other, were keenly contested.

Thanks to Wolstang's long legs, they were better than the short ones

with which my antagonist was furnished, and I caught him by the collar

as he was about to enter a wood. I grasped my body with Herculean grip,

so terrified was I to lose it. "And now, you villain," said I, as soon

as I could recover breath, "tell me the meaning of this. Restore me my

body, or by heaven I will----"

"You will do what?" asked he, with the most insolent coolness. This

question was a dagger to my soul, for I knew that any punishment I

inflicted upon him must be inflicted upon myself. I stood mute for a

few seconds, still holding him strongly in my grasp. At last throwing

pity aside, by one vast effort I cried out, "I declare solemnly,

Wolstang, that if you do not give me back my body I shall kill you on

the spot."

"Kill me on the spot!" replied he. "Do you mean to say that you will

kill your own body?"

"I do say so," was my answer. "I will rather destroy my dear body, than

it should be disgraced by a scoundrel like you."

"You are jesting," said Wolstang, endeavouring to extricate himself.

"I shall show you the contrary," rejoined I, giving him a violent blow

on the nose, and another on the ribs. These strokes almost drew tears

from my eyes; and when I saw my precious blood flowing, I certainly

would have wept aloud, but for the terrible energy which rage had given

me. The punishment had its evident effect, however, upon Wolstang, for

he became agitated and alarmed, grew pale, and entreated me to let him

go. "Never, you villain, till you return me back my body. Let me be

myself again, and then you are free."

"That is impossible," said he, "and cannot be done without the agency of

another person, who is absent; but I hereby solemnly swear, that five

days after my death your body shall be your own."

"If better terms cannot be had, I must take even these, but better I

shall have; so prepare to part with what is not your own. Take yourself

back again, or I will beat you to mummy." So saying, I laid on him most

unmercifully--flattened his nose (or rather my own), and laid him

sprawling on the earth without ceremony. While engaged in this business,

I heard a sneeze, and looking to the quarter from which it proceeded,

whom did I see emerging from the wood, but my old acquaintance with the

snuff-coloured surtout, the scarlet waistcoat, and wooden leg. He

saluted me as usual with a smile, and was beginning to regret the length

of time which had elapsed since he last had the pleasure of seeing me,

when I interrupted him. "Come," said I, "this is not a time for

ridiculous grimace; you know all about it, so help me to get my body

back from this scoundrel here."

"Certainly, my dear friend. Heaven forbid that you should be robbed of

so unalienable a property. Wolstang, you must give it up. 'Tis the

height of injustice to deprive him of it."

"Shall I surrender it, then?" said Wolstang with a pitiable voice.

"By all means: let Mr Stadt have his body."

In an instant I felt great pains shoot through me, and I lay on the

ground, breathless and exhausted as if from some dreadful punishment. I

also saw the little gentleman, and the tall stout figure of Wolstang,

walk away arm in arm, and enter the wood. I was now myself again, but

had at first little cause of congratulation on the change, for I was

one heap of bruises, while the unprincipled author of my calamities was

moving off in his own body without a single scratch. If my frame was in

bad case, however, my mind felt relieved beyond conception. A load was

taken from it, and it felt the consciousness of being encased in that

earthly tenement destined by Heaven for its habitation.

CHAPTER IV.

Alas, how transient is human happiness! Scarcely had an hour elapsed

when a shudder came over me, precisely similar to that which occurred

some weeks before on entering the College of Gottingen. I also perceived

that I was stronger, taller, and more vigorous, and, as if by magic,

totally free of pain. At this change a horrid sentiment came across me,

and, on looking at my shadow in a well, I observed that I was no longer

myself, but Wolstang; the diabolical miscreant had again effected a

metempsychosis. Full of distracting ideas, I wandered about the fields

till nightfall, when I returned into the city, and threw myself into

bed, overpowered with fatigue and grief.

Next day I made a point of calling at my own house, and inquiring for

myself. The servant said that I could not be seen, being confined to bed

in consequence of several bruises received in an encounter with two

highwaymen. I called next day, and was still confined. On the third I

did the same, but I had gone out with a friend. On the fourth I learned

that I was dead.

It will readily be believed that this last intelligence was far from

being unwelcome. On hearing of my own death I felt the most lively

pleasure, anticipating the period when I would be myself again. That

period, according to Wolstang's solemn vow, would arrive in five days.

Three of these I had spent in the house, carefully secluding myself from

observation, when I heard a sneeze at the outside of the door. It

opened, and in stepped the little man with the snuff-coloured surtout,

the scarlet waistcoat, and the wooden leg. I had conceived a dislike

approaching to horror at this old rascal, whom I naturally concluded to

be at the bottom of these diabolical transformations; I, however,

contained my wrath till I should hear what he had to say.

"I wish you much joy, my dear friend, that you are going to resume your

own body. There is, however, one circumstance, which perhaps you have

overlooked. Are you aware that you are to be buried to-day?"

"I never thought of it," answered I calmly, "nor is it of any

consequence, I presume. In two days I shall be myself again. I shall

then leave this body behind me, and take possession of my own."

"And where will your own body be then?"

"In the grave," said I with a shudder, as the thought came across me.

"Precisely so, and you will enjoy the pleasure of being buried alive;

that, I suppose, you have not calculated upon."

This remark struck me with blank dismay, and I fell back on my chair,

uttering a deep groan. "Is there then no hope? cannot this dreadful doom

be averted? must I be buried alive?"

"The case is rather a hard one, Mr Stadt, but perhaps not without a

remedy."

"Yes, there is a remedy," cried I, starting up and striking my forehead.

"I shall hie me to my own house, and entreat them to suspend the funeral

for two days."

"I saw the undertaker's men enter the house, as I passed by, for the

purpose, I should think, of screwing down the coffin-lid. The company

also, I find, are beginning to collect, so that there is little hope of

your succeeding. However," continued he, taking a pinch of snuff, "you

may try, and if you fail, I have a scheme in view which will perhaps

suit your purpose. I shall await your return."

In a moment my hat was on my head, in another I was out of the room, and

in a third at my own house. What he had stated was substantially true.

Some of the mourners had arrived, and the undertaker's men were waiting

below, till they should be summoned up-stairs to screw down the lid.

Without an instant of delay I rushed to the chamber where my dear body

was lying in its shell. Some of my friends were there, and I entreated

them, in imploring accents, to stop for two days, and they would see

that the corpse which lay before them would revive. "I am not dead,"

cried I, forgetting myself,--"I assure you I am not dead."

"Poor fellow! he has lost his senses," said one.

"Ah, poor Wolstang," observed another: "he ran deranged some weeks ago,

and has been going about asking for himself ever since."

"I assure you I am not dead," said I, throwing myself upon my knees

before my cousin, who was present.

"I know that, my good fellow," was his answer, "but poor Stadt, you see,

is gone for ever."

"That is not Stadt--it is I--it is I--will you not believe me! I am

Stadt--this is not me--I am not myself. For heaven's sake suspend this

funeral." Such were my exclamations, but they produced no other effect

but that of pity among the bystanders.

"Poor unfortunate fellow, he is crazed. Get a porter, and let him be

taken home."

This order, which was given by my cousin himself, stung me to madness,

and, changing my piteous tones for those of fierce resistance, I swore

that "I would not turn out for any man living. I would not be buried

alive to please them." To this nobody made any reply, but in the course

of a minute four stout porters made their appearance, and I was forced

from the house.

Returning to Wolstang's lodgings, the old man was there in waiting, as

he promised. "What," said I with trepidation,--"what is the scheme you

were to propose? Tell me, and avert the horrible doom which will await

me, for they have refused to suspend the funeral."

"My dear friend," said he in the most soothing manner, "your case is far

from being so bad as you apprehend. You have just to write your name in

this book, and you will be yourself again in an instant. Instead of

coming alive in the grave, you will be alive before the coffin-lid is

put on. Only think of the difference of the two situations."

"A confounded difference indeed," thought I, taking hold of the pen. But

at the very moment when I was going to write, I observed above the

following words:--

"I hereby engage, after my natural decease, to give over my

soul to the owner of this book."

"What!" said I, "this is the old compact; the one you wished me to sign

before?"

"The same, my dear friend."

"Then I'll be d----d if I sign it."

"Only think of the consequences," said he.

"I will abide the consequences rather than sell my soul."

"Buried alive, my dear sir--only think."

"I will not sign the compact."

"Only think of being buried alive," continued he,--"stifled to

death--pent up on all sides--earth above, earth below--no hope--no room

to move in--suffocated, stupified, horror-struck--utter despair. Is not

the idea dreadful? Only think what your feelings will be, when you come

to life in that narrow charnel-house, and know your situation."

I gave a shudder at this picture, which was drawn with horrible truth;

but the energies of religion, and the hopes of futurity, rushed upon my

soul, and sustained it in the dreadful trial. "Away, away," said I,

pushing him back. "I have made up my mind to the sacrifice, since better

may not be. Whatever happens to my body, I am resolved not to risk my

eternal soul for its sake."

"Think again," said he, "and make up your mind. If I leave you, your

fate is irrevocable. Are you decided?"

"I am."

"Only reflect once more. Consider how, by putting your name in this

book, you will save yourself from a miserable death. Are you decided?"

"I am," replied I firmly.

"Then, fool," said he, while a frown perfectly unnatural to him

corrugated his brow, and his eyes shot forth vivid glances of

fire--"then, fool, I leave you to your fate. You shall never see me

again." So saying, he walked out of the room, dispensing with his usual

bows and grimaces, and dashing the door fiercely after him, while I

threw myself upon a couch in an agony of despair.

My doom was now sealed beyond all hope; for, going to the windows a few

minutes thereafter, I beheld my own funeral, with my cousin at the head

of the procession, acting as chief mourner. In a short time I saw the

company returning from the interment. "All is over, then," said I,

wringing my hands at this deplorable sight. "I am the victim of some

infernal agency, and must prepare for the dreadful sacrifice." That

night I was supremely wretched, tossing incessantly in bed, while sleep

was denied to my wearied eyelids. Next morning my haggard look was

remarked by my servant, who proposed sending for a physician; but this I

would not allow, knowing that woe like mine was beyond the reach of

medicine. The greater part of that day was spent in religious exercises,

from which I felt considerable relief. The day after was the last I was

to behold upon earth. It came, and I endeavoured by every means to

subdue the terror which it brought along with it. On arising from bed, I

sent for my servant, an elderly woman whom I had got to supply the place

of Barnabas and Louise, and gave her one hundred gilders, being all the

money I could find in Wolstang's bureau. "Now, Philippa," said I, "as

soon as the clock of the study has struck three, come in, and you will

find me dead. Retire, and do not enter till then." She went away,

promising to do all that I had ordered her.

During the interval I sat opposite the clock, marking the hours pass

rapidly by. Every tick was as a death-knell to my ear--every movement of

the hands, as the motion of a scimitar levelled to cut me in pieces. I

heard all, and I saw all in horrid silence. Two o'clock at length

struck. "Now," said I, "there is but one hour for me on earth--then the

dreadful struggle begins--then I must live again in the tomb only to

perish miserably." Half an hour passed, then forty minutes, then fifty,

then fifty-five. I saw with utter despair the minute-hand go by the

latter, and approach the meridian number of the dial. As it swept on, a

stupor fell over my spirit, a mist swam before my eyes, and I almost

lost the power of consciousness. At last I heard _one_ strike aloud--my

flesh creeped with dread; then _two_--I gave an universal shudder; then

_three_, and I gasped convulsively, and saw and heard nothing further.

CHAPTER V.

At this moment I was sensible of an insufferable coldness. My heart

fluttered, then it beat strong, and the blood, passing as it were over

my chilled frame, gave it warmth and animation. I also began by slow

degrees to breathe. But though my bodily feelings were thus torpid, my

mental ones were very different. They were on the rack; for I knew that

I was now buried alive, and that the dreadful struggle was about to

commence. Instead of rejoicing as I recovered the genial glow of life, I

felt appalled with blank despair. I was terrified to move, because I

knew I would feel the horrid walls of my narrow prison-house. I was

terrified to breathe, because the pent air within it would be exhausted,

and the suffocation of struggling humanity would seize upon me. I was

even terrified to open my eyes, and gaze upon the eternal darkness by

which I was surrounded. Could I resist?--the idea was madness. What

would my strength avail against the closed coffin, and the pressure

above, below, and on every side? "No, I must abide the struggle, which a

few seconds more will bring on: I must perish deplorably in it. Then the

Epicurean worm will feast upon my remains, and I shall no longer hear

any sound, or see any sight, till the last trumpet shall awaken me from

slumber, and gather me together from the jaws of the tomb."

Meanwhile I felt the necessity of breathing, and I did breathe fully;

and the air was neither so close nor scanty as might have been supposed.

"This, however," thought I, "is but the first of my respirations: a few

more, and the vital air will be exhausted; then will the agony of death

truly commence." I nevertheless breathed again, and again, and again;

but nothing like stifling seized upon me--nothing of the kind, even when

I had made fifty good respirations. On the contrary, I respired with the

most perfect freedom. This struck me as very singular; and being

naturally of an inquisitive disposition, I felt an irresistible wish,

even in my dreadful situation, to investigate if possible the cause of

it. "The coffin must be unconscionably large." This was my first idea;

and to ascertain it, I slightly raised my hands, shuddering at the same

time at the thought of their coming in contact with the lid above me.

However, they encountered no lid. Up, up, up, I elevated them, and met

with nothing. I then groped to the sides, but the coffin laterally

seemed equally capacious; no sides were to be found. "This is certainly

a most extraordinary shell to bury a man of my size in. I shall try if

possible to ascertain its limits before I die--suppose I endeavour to

stand upright." The thought no sooner came across my mind than I carried

it into execution. I got up, raising myself by slow degrees, in case of

knocking my head against the lid. Nothing, however, impeded my

extension, and I stood straight. I even raised my hands on high, to feel

if it were possible to reach the top: no such thing; the coffin was

apparently without bounds. Altogether, I felt more comfortable than a

buried man could expect to be. One thing struck me, and it was this--I

had no grave-clothes upon me. "But," thought I, "this is easily

accounted for: my cousin comes to my property, and the scoundrel has

adopted the most economical means of getting rid of me." I had not as

yet opened my eyes, being daunted at the idea of encountering the dreary

darkness of the grave. But my courage being somewhat augmented by the

foregoing events, I endeavoured to open them. This was impossible; and

on examination, I found that they were bandaged, my head being encircled

with a fillet. On endeavouring to loosen it, I lost my balance, and

tumbled down with a hideous noise. I did not merely fall upon the bottom

of the coffin, as might be expected; on the contrary, I seemed to roll

off it, and fell lower, as it were, into some vault underneath. In

endeavouring to arrest this strange descent, I caught hold of the

coffin, and pulled it on the top of me. Nor was this all; for, before I

could account for such a train of extraordinary accidents below ground,

and while yet stupified and bewildered, I heard a door open, and in an

instant after, human voices. "What, in heaven's name, can be the meaning

of this?" ejaculated I involuntarily. "Is it a dream?--am I asleep, or

am I awake? Am I dead or alive?" While meditating thus, and struggling

to extricate myself from the coffin, I heard some one say distinctly,

"Good God, he is come alive!" My brain was distracted by a whirlwind of

vain conjectures; but before it could arrange one idea, I felt myself

seized upon by both arms, and raised up with irresistible force. At the

same instant the fillet was drawn from my eyes. I opened them with

amazement: instead of the gloom of death, the glorious light of heaven

burst upon them! I was confounded; and, to add to my surprise, I saw

supporting me two men, with whose faces I was familiar. I gazed at the

one, then at the other, with looks of fixed astonishment. "What is

this?" said I; "where am I?"

"You must remain quiet," said the eldest, with a smile. "We must have

you put to bed, and afterwards dressed."

"What is this?" continued I: "am I not dead--was I not buried?"

"Hush, my dear friend--let me throw this great-coat over you."

"But I must speak," said I, my senses still wandering. "Where am I?--who

are you?"

"Do you not know me?"

"Yes," replied I, gazing at him intently--"my friend Doctor Wunderdudt.

Good God! how do you happen to be here? Did I not come alive in the

grave?"

"You may thank us that you did not," said he. "Look around, and say if

you know where you are."

I looked, as he directed, and found myself in a large room fitted up

with benches, and having half-a-dozen skeletons dangling from the roof.

While doing this, he and his friend smiled at each other, and seemed

anxiously awaiting my reply, and enjoying my wonder. At last I satisfied

myself that I was in the anatomical theatre of the University.

"But," said I, "there is something in all this I cannot comprehend.

What--where is the coffin?"

"What coffin, my dear fellow?" said Wunderdudt.

"The coffin that I was in."

"The coffin," said he, smiling; "I suppose it remains where it was put

the day before yesterday."

I rubbed my eyes with vexation, not knowing what to make of these

perplexing circumstances. "I mean," said I, "the coffin--that is, the

coffin I drew over upon me when I fell."

"I do not know of any coffin," answered he, laughing heartily; "but I

know very well that you have pulled upon yourself my good mahogany

table; there it lies." And on looking, I observed the large table,

which stood in the middle of the hall, overturned upon the floor. Doctor

Wunderdudt (he was professor of anatomy to the college) now made me

retire, and had me put in bed till clothing could be procured. But I

would not allow him to depart till he had unravelled the strange web of

perplexity in which I still found myself involved. Nothing would satisfy

me but a philosophical solution of the problem, "Why was I not buried

alive, as I had reason to expect?" The doctor expounded this intricate

point in the following manner:--

"The day before yesterday," said he, "I informed the resurrectionists in

the service of the University, that I was in want of a subject, desiring

them at the same time to set to work with all speed. That very night

they returned, assuring me that they had fished up one which would

answer to a hair, being both young and vigorous. In order to inform

myself of the quality of what they brought me, I examined the body,

when, to my indignation and grief, I found that they had disinterred my

excellent friend, Mr Frederick Stadt, who had been buried the same day."

"What!" said I, starting up from the bed, "did they disinter me?--the

scoundrels!"

"You may well call them scoundrels," said the professor, "for preventing

a gentleman from enjoying the pleasure of being buried alive. The deed

was certainly most felonious; and if you are at all anxious, I shall

have them reported to the Syndic, and tried for their impertinent

interference. But to proceed. No sooner did I observe that they had

fallen upon you than I said, 'My good men, this will never do. You have

brought me here my worthy friend Mr Stadt. I cannot feel in my heart to

anatomise him, so just carry him quietly back to his old quarters, and I

shall pay you his price, and something over and above.'"

"What!" said I, again interrupting the doctor, "is it possible you could

be so inhuman as to make the scoundrels bury me again?"

"Now, Stadt," rejoined he, with a smile, "you are a strange fellow. You

were angry at the _men_ for raising you, and now you are angry at _me_

for endeavouring to repair their error by reinterring you."

"But you forget that I was to come alive?"

"How the deuce was I to know that, my dear boy?"

"Very true. Go on, doctor, and excuse me for interrupting you so often."

"Well," continued he, "the men carried you last night to deposit you in

your long home, when, as fate would have it, they were prevented by a

ridiculous fellow of a tailor, who, for a trifling wager, had engaged to

sit up alone, during the whole night, in the churchyard, exactly at the

spot where your grave lay. So they brought you back to the college,

resolving to inter you to-night, if the tailor, or the devil himself,

should stand in their way. Your timely resuscitation will save them this

trouble. At the same time, if you are still offended at them, they will

be very happy to take you back, and you may yet enjoy the felicity of

being buried alive."

Such was a simple statement of the fact, delivered in the professor's

good-humoured and satirical style; and from it the reader may guess what

a narrow escape I had from the most dreadful of deaths, and how much I

am indebted, in the first instance, to the stupid blundering of the

resurrectionists, and, in the second, to the tailor. I returned to my

own house as soon as possible, to the no small mortification of my

cousin, who was proceeding to invest himself with all that belonged to

me. I made him refund without ceremony, and altered my will, which had

been made in his favour; not forgetting, in so doing, his refusal to let

my body remain two days longer unburied. A day or two afterwards I saw a

funeral pass by, which, on inquiry, I learned to be Wolstang's. He died

suddenly, as I was informed, and some persons remarked it as a curious

event that his death happened at precisely the same moment as my return

to life. This was merely mentioned as a passing observation, but no

inference was deduced from it. The old domestic in Wolstang's house gave

a wonderful account of his death, mentioning the hour at which he said

he was to die, and how it was verified by the event. She said nothing,

however, about the hundred gilders. Many considered her story as a piece

of mere trumpery. She had nevertheless a number of believers.

With respect to myself, I excited a great talk, receiving invitations to

dine with almost all the respectable families in Gottingen. I had the

honour of being waited on by Doctor Dedimus Dunderhead, who, after

shaking me by the hand in the kindest manner, made me give a long

account of my feelings at the instant of coming alive. Of course, I

concealed everything connected with the Metempsychosis, and kept out

many circumstances which at the time I did not wish to be known. He was

nevertheless highly delighted, and gave it as his opinion (which, being

oracular, was instantly acted upon), that a description of the whole

should be inserted in the Annals of the University. I had the farther

honour of being invited to dinner at his house--an honour which I duly

appreciated, knowing that it is almost never conferred except on the

syndics, burgomasters, and deacons of the town, and a few of the

professors.

These events, which are here related at full, I can only attest by my

own word, except indeed the affair of the coming alive, which everybody

in Gottingen knows of. If any doubt the more unlikely parts of the

detail, I cannot help it. I have not written this with the view of empty

fame, and still less of profit. Philosophy has taught me to despise the

former, and my income renders the latter an object of no importance. I

merely do it to put my fellow-citizens on their guard against the

machinations of the old fellow with the snuff-coloured surtout, the

scarlet waistcoat, and the wooden leg. Above all, they should carefully

abstain from signing any paper he may present to them, however plausible

his offers may be. By mere thoughtlessness in this respect, I brought

myself into a multitude of dangers and difficulties, from which every

one in the same predicament may not escape so easily as I have done. I

shall conclude with acknowledging that a strong change has been wrought

in my opinions; and that from ridiculing the doctrines of the sage of

Samos, I am now one of their firmest supporters. In a word, I am what I

have designated myself,

"A MODERN PYTHAGOREAN."

COLLEGE THEATRICALS

[_MAGA._ DECEMBER 1843.]

It wanted but two or three weeks to the Christmas vacation (alas! how

many years ago!) and we, the worshipful society of undergraduates of

---- College, Oxford, were beginning to get tired of the eternal round

of supper-parties which usually marked the close of our winter's

campaign, and ready to hail with delight any proposition that had the

charm of novelty. A three weeks' frost had effectually stopped the

hunting; all the best tandem-leaders were completely screwed; the

freshmen had been "larked" till they were grown as cunning as magpies;

and the Dean had set up a divinity lecture at two o'clock, and published

a stringent proclamation against rows in the Quad. It was, in short,

during a particularly uninteresting state of things, with the snow

falling lazily upon the grey roofs and silent quadrangle, that some

half-dozen of us had congregated in Bob Thornhill's rooms, to get over

the time between lunch and dinner with as little trouble to our mental

and corporeal faculties as possible. Those among us who had been for the

last three months promising to themselves to begin to read "next week,"

had now put off that too easy creditor, conscience, till "next term."

One alone had settled his engagements of that nature, or, in the

language of his "_Testamur_"--the prettiest bit of Latin, he declared,

that he ever saw--"_satisfecit examinatoribus_." Unquestionably, in his

case, the examiners must have had the rare virtue of being very easily

satisfied. In fact, Mr Savile's discharge of his educational engagements

was rather a sort of "whitewashing" than a payment in full. His passing

was what is technically called a "shave," a metaphor alluding to that

intellectual density which finds it difficult to squeeze through the

narrow portal which admits to the privileges of a Bachelor of Arts. As

Mr S. himself, being a sporting man, described it, it was "a very close

run indeed;" not that he considered that circumstance to derogate in any

way from his victory; he was rather inclined to consider, that, having

shown the field of examiners capital sport, and fairly got away from

them in the end without the loss of his brush, his examination had been

one of the very best runs of the season. In virtue whereof he was now

mounted on the arm of an easy-chair, with a long chibouque, which became

the gravity of an incipient bachelor better than a cigar, and took upon

himself to give Thornhill (who was really a clever fellow, and

professing to be reading for a first) some advice as to his conducting

himself when his examination should arrive.

"I'll tell you what, Thornhill, old boy, I'll give you a wrinkle; it

doesn't always answer to let out all you know at an examination. That

sly old varmint, West of Magdalen, asked me who Hannibal was. 'Aha!'

said I to myself, 'that's your line of country, is it? You want to walk

me straight into those botheration Punic Wars; it's no go, though; I

shan't break cover in that direction.' So I was mute. 'Can't you tell me

something about Hannibal?' says old West again. 'I can,' thinks I, 'but

I won't.' He was regularly flabergasted; I spoilt his beat entirely,

don't you see? So he looked as black as thunder, and tried it on in a

fresh place. If I had been fool enough to let him dodge me in those

Punic Wars, I should have been run into in no time. Depend upon it,

there's nothing like a judicious ignorance occasionally."

"Why," said Thornhill, "'when ignorance is bliss' (that is, when it gets

through the schools), ''tis folly to be wise.'"

"Ah! that's Shakespeare says that, isn't it? I wish one could take up

Shakespeare for a class! I'm devilish fond of Shakespeare. We used to

act Shakespeare at a private school I was at."

"By Jove!" said somebody from behind a cloud of smoke--whose the

brilliant idea was, was afterwards matter of dispute--"why couldn't we

get up a play?"

"Ah! why not? why not? Capital!"

"It's such a horrid bore learning one's part," lisped the elegant Horace

Leicester, half awake on the sofa.

"Oh, stuff!" said Savile, "it's the very thing to keep us alive! We

could make a capital theatre out of the hall; don't you think the little

vice-principal would give us leave?"

"You had better ask for the chapel at once. Why, don't you know, my dear

fellow, the college hall, in the opinion of the dean and the vice, is

held rather more sacred of the two? Newcome, poor devil, attempted to

cut a joke at the high table one of the times he dined there after he

was elected, and he told me that they all stared at him as if he had

insulted them; and the vice (in confidence) explained to him that such

'levity' was treason against the '_reverentia loci!_'"

"Ay, I remember when that old villain Solomon, the porter, fined me ten

shillings for walking in there with spurs one day when I was late for

dinner; he said the dean always took off his cap when he went in there

by himself, and threatened to turn off old Higgs, when he had been scout

forty years, because he heard him whistling one day while he was

sweeping it out! Well," continued Savile, "you shall have my rooms; I

shan't trouble them much now. I am going to pack all my books down to

old Wise's[A] next week, to turn them into ready _tin_; so you may turn

the study into a carpenter's shop, if you like. Oh, it can be managed

famously!"

[Footnote A: A well-known Oxford auctioneer of that day.]

So, after a few _pros_ and _cons_, it was finally settled that Mr

Savile's rooms should become the Theatre Royal, ---- College; and I was

honoured with the responsible office of stage-manager. What the play was

to be, was a more difficult point to settle. Savile proposed _Romeo and

Juliet_, and volunteered for the hero; but it passed the united strength

of the company to get up a decent _Juliet_. _Richard the Third_ was

suggested; we had "six _Richards_ in the field" at once. We soon gave up

the heroics, and decided on comedy; for since our audience would be sure

to laugh, we should at least have a chance of getting the laugh in the

right place. So, after long discussion, we fixed on _She Stoops to

Conquer_. There were a good many reasons for this selection. First, it

was a piece possessing that grand desideratum in all amateur

performances, that there were several parts in it of equal calibre, and

none which implied decided superiority of talent in its representative;

secondly, there was not much _love_ in it--a material point where, as an

Irishman might say, all the ladies were gentlemen; thirdly, the scenery,

dresses, properties, and decorations, were of the very simplest

description: it was easily "put upon the stage." We found little

difficulty in casting the male characters: old Mrs Hardcastle, not

requiring any great share of personal attractions, and being considered

a part that would tell, soon found a representative; but when we came to

the "donnas"--_prima_ and _seconda_--then it was that the manager's

troubles began. It was really necessary, to insure the most moderate

degree of success to the comedy, that Miss Hardcastle should have at

least a lady-like deportment. The public voice, first in whispers, then

audibly, at last vociferously, called upon Leicester. Slightly formed,

handsome, clever, and accomplished, with naturally graceful manners, and

a fair share of vanity and affectation, there was no doubt of his making

a respectable heroine if he would consent to be made love to. In vain

did he protest against the petticoats, and urge with affecting

earnestness the claims of the whiskers which for the last six months he

had so diligently been cultivating; the chorus of entreaty and

expostulation had its effect, aided by a well-timed compliment to the

aristocratically small hand and foot, of which Horace was pardonably

vain. Shaving was pronounced indispensable to the due growth of the

whiskers; and the importance of the character, and the point of the

situations, so strongly dwelt upon, that he became gradually reconciled

to his fate, and began seriously to discuss the question whether Miss

Hardcastle should wear her hair in curls or bands. A freshman of

seventeen, who had no pretensions in the way of whiskers, and who was

too happy to be admitted on any terms to a share in such a "fast idea"

as the getting up a play, was to be the Miss Neville; and before the

hall bell rang for dinner, an order had been despatched for a dozen

acting copies of _She Stoops to Conquer_.

Times have materially changed since Queen Elizabeth's visit to

Christ-Church; the University, one of the earliest nurses of the infant

drama, has long since turned it out of doors for a naughty child, and

forbid it, under pain of worse than whipping, to come any nearer than

Abingdon or Bicester. Taking into consideration the style of some of the

performances in which undergraduates of some three hundred years ago

were the actors, the "Oxford Theatre" of those days, if it had more

wit in it than the present, had somewhat less decency. The ancient

"moralities" were not over moral, and the "mysteries" rather Babylonish.

So far we have had no great loss. Whether the judicious getting

up of a tragedy of Sophocles or Aeschylus, or even a comedy of

Terence--classically managed, as it could be done in Oxford, and well

acted--would be more unbecoming the gravity of our collected wisdom,

or more derogatory to the dignity of our noble "theatre," than the

squalling of Italian singers, masculine, feminine, and neuter, is a

question which, when I have a seat in the Hebdomadal Council, I shall

certainly propose. Thus much I am sure of,--if a classical playbill were

duly announced for the next grand commemoration, it would "draw" almost

as well as any lion of the day: the dresses might be quite as showy, the

action could hardly be less graceful, than those of the odd-looking

gentlemen who are dubbed doctors of civil law on such occasions; and

the speeches of Prometheus, Oedipus, or Antigone, would be more

intelligible to the learned, and more amusing to the ladies, than

those Latin essays or the Creweian oration.

However, until I am vice-chancellor, the legitimate drama, Greek, Roman,

or English, seems little likely to revive in Oxford. _Our_ branch of

that great family, I confess, bore the bar-sinister. The offspring of

our theatrical affections was unrecognised by college authority. The

fellows of ---- would have done anything but "smile upon its birth."

The dean especially would have burked it at once had he suspected its

existence. Nor was it fostered, like the former Oxford theatricals to

which we have alluded, by royal patronage; we could not, consistently

with decorum, request her Majesty to encourage an illegitimate.

Nevertheless--spite of its being thus born under the rose, it grew and

prospered. Our plan of rehearsal was original. We used to adjourn from

dinner to the rooms of one or other of the company; and there, over our

wine and dessert, instead of quizzing freshmen and abusing tutors, open

each our acting copy, and, with all due emphasis and intonation, go

regularly through the scenes of _She Stoops to Conquer_. This was all

the study we ever gave to our parts; and even thus it was difficult to

get a muster of all the performers, and we had generally to play dummy

for some one or more of the characters, or "double" them, as the

professionals call it. The excuses for absenteeism were various. Mrs

Hardcastle and Tony were gone to Woodstock with a team, and were not to

be waited for; Diggory had a command to dine with the Principal; and

once an interesting dialogue was cut short by the untoward event of Miss

Neville's being "confined"--in consequence of some indiscretion or

other--"to chapel." It was necessary in our management, as much as

in Mr Bunn's or Mr Macready's, to humour the caprices of the stars of

the company; but the lesser lights, if they became eccentric at all

in their orbits, were extinguished without mercy. Their place was

easily supplied; for the moment it became known that a play was in

contemplation, there were plenty of candidates for dramatic fame,

especially among the freshmen; and though we mortally offended one or

two aspiring geniuses, by proffering them the vacant situations of

Ralph, Roger, and Co., in Mr Hardcastle's household, on condition of

having their respective blue dress-coats turned up with yellow to

represent the family livery, there were others to whom the being

admitted behind the scenes, even in these humble characters, was a

subject of laudable ambition. Nay, unimportant as were some parts in

themselves, they were quite enough for the histrionic talent of some of

our friends. Till I became a manager myself, I always used to lose

patience at the wretched manner in which some of the underlings on the

stage went through the little they had to say and do: there seemed

no reason why the "sticks" should be so provokingly sticky; and it

surprised me that a man who could accost one fluently enough at the

stage-door, should make such a bungle as some of them did in a message

of some half-dozen words "in character." But when I first became

initiated into the mysteries of amateur performances, and saw how

entirely destitute some men were of any notion of natural acting, and

how they made a point of repeating two lines of familiar dialogue with

the tone and manner, but without the correctness, of a schoolboy going

through a task--then it ceased to be any matter of wonder that those to

whom acting was no joke, but an unhappily earnest mode of getting bread,

should so often make their performance appear the uneasy effort which it

is. There was one man in particular, a good-humoured, gentlemanly

fellow, a favourite with us all,--not remarkable for talent, but a

pleasant companion enough, with plenty of common-sense. Well, "he would

be an actor"--it was his own fancy to have a part, and, as he was "one

of us," we could not well refuse him. We give him an easy one, for he

was not vain of his own powers, or ambitious of theatrical distinction;

so he was to be "second fellow"--one of Tony's pot-companions. He had

but two lines to speak; but from the very first time I heard him read

them, I set him down as a hopeless case. He read them as if he had just

learned to spell the words; when he repeated them without the book, it

was like a clergyman giving out a text. And so it was with a good many

of the rank and file of the company; we had more labour to drill them

into something like a natural intonation than to learn our own longest

speeches twice over. So we made their attendance at rehearsals a _sine

qua non_. We dismissed a promising "Mat Muggins" because he went to the

"Union" two nights successively, when he ought to have been at "The

Three Pigeons." We superseded a very respectable "landlord" (though he

had actually been measured for a corporation and a pair of calves) for

inattention to business. The only one of the supernumeraries whom it was

at all necessary to conciliate, was the gentleman who was to sing the

comic song instead of Tony (Savile, the representative of the said

Tony, not having music in his soul beyond a view-holloa). He was allowed

to go and come at our readings _ad libitum_, upon condition of being

very careful not to take cold.

When we had become tolerably perfect in the words of our parts, it was

deemed expedient to have a "dress rehearsal"--especially for the ladies.

It is not very easy to move safely--let alone gracefully--in petticoats,

for those who are accustomed to move their legs somewhat more

independently. And it would not have been civil in Messrs Marlow and

Hastings to laugh outright at their lady-loves before company, as they

were sure to do upon their first appearance. A dress rehearsal,

therefore, was a very necessary precaution. But if it was difficult to

get the company together at six o'clock under the friendly disguise of a

wine-party, doubly difficult was it to expect them to muster at eleven

in the morning. The first day that we fixed for it, there came a not

very lady-like note, evidently written in bed, from Miss Hardcastle,

stating, that having been at a supper-party the night before, and there

partaken of brandy-punch to an extent to which she was wholly

unaccustomed, it was quite impossible, in the present state of her

nervous system, for her to make her appearance in character at any

price. There was no alternative but to put off the rehearsal; and that

very week occurred a circumstance which was very near being the cause of

its adjournment _sine die_.

"Mr Hawthorne," said the dean to me one morning, when I was leaving his

rooms, rejoicing in the termination of lecture, "I wish to speak with

you, if you please." The dean's communications were seldom of a very

pleasing kind, and on this particular morning his countenance gave token

that he had hit upon something more than usually piquant. The rest of

the men filed out of the door as slowly as they conveniently could, in

the hope, I suppose, of hearing the dean's fire open upon me; but he

waited patiently till my particular friend, Bob Thornhill, had picked up

carefully, one by one, his miscellaneous collection of note-book,

pencil, pen-knife, and other small wares, and had been obliged at length

to make an unwilling exit; when, seeing the door finally closed, he

commenced with his usual--"Have the goodness to sit down, sir."

Experience had taught me, that it was as well to make one's-self as

comfortable as might be upon these occasions; so I took the easy-chair,

and tried to look as if I thought the dean merely wanted to have a

pleasant half-hour's chat. He marched into a little back-room that he

called his study, and I began to speculate upon the probable subject of

our conference. Strange! that week had been a more than usually quiet

one. No late knocking in; no cutting lectures at chapel; positively I

began to think that, for once, the dean had gone on a wrong scent, and

that I should repel his accusations with all the dignity of injured

innocence; or had he sent for me to offer his congratulations on my

having commenced in the "steady" line, and to ask me to breakfast? I was

not long left to indulge such delusive hopes. Re-enter the dean (O.P.,

as our stage directions would have had it), with--a pair of stays!

By what confounded ill-luck they had got into his possession I could not

imagine; but there they were. The dean touched them as if he felt their

very touch an abomination, threw them on the table, and briefly

said--"These, sir, were found in your rooms this morning. Can you

explain how they came there?"

True enough, Leicester had been trying on the abominable articles in my

bedroom, and I had stuffed them into a drawer till wanted. What to say

was indeed a puzzle. To tell the whole truth would no doubt have ended

the matter at once, and a hearty laugh should I have had at the dean's

expense; but it would have put the stopper on _She Stoops to Conquer_.

It was too ridiculous to look grave about; and blacker grew the

countenance before me, as, with a vain attempt to conceal a smile, I

echoed his words, and stammered out--"In my rooms, sir?"

"Yes, sir, in your bedroom." He rang the bell. "Your servant, Simmons,

most properly brought them to me."

The little rascal! I had been afraid to let him know anything about the

theatricals; for I knew perfectly well the dean would hear of it in half

an hour, for he served him in the double capacity of scout and spy.

Before the bell had stopped, Dick Simmons made his appearance, having

evidently been kept at hand. He did look rather ashamed of himself, when

I asked him, what business he had to search my wardrobe?

"Oh dear, sir! I never did no sich a thing; I was a-making of your bed,

sir, when I sees the tag of a stay-lace hanging out of your topmost

drawer, sir--(I am a married man, sir," to the dean apologetically, "and

I know the tag of a stay-lace, sir)--and so I took it out, sir; and

knowing my duty to the college, sir, though I should be very sorry to

bring you into trouble, Mr Hawthorne, sir"----

"Yes, yes, Simmons, you did quite right," said the dean. "You are bound

to give notice to the college authorities of all irregularities, and

your situation requires that you should be conscientious."

"I hope I am, sir," said the little rascal; "but indeed I am very sorry,

Mr Hawthorne, sir"----

"Oh! never mind," said I; "you did right, no doubt. I can only say those

things are not mine, sir; they belong to a friend of mine."

"I don't ask who they belong to, sir," said the dean indignantly; "I

ask, sir, how came they in your rooms?"

"I believe, sir, my friend (he was in my rooms yesterday) left them

there. Some men wear stays, sir," continued I, boldly; "it's very much

the fashion, I'm told."

"Eh! hum!" said the dean, eyeing the brown jean doubtingly. "I have

heard of such things. Horrid puppies men are now. Never dreamt of such

things in my younger days; but then, sir, we were not allowed to wear

white trousers, and waistcoats of I don't know what colours; we were

made to attend to the statutes--_'Nigri aut subfusci,'_ sir. Ah! times

are changed--times are changed, indeed! And do you mean to say, sir, you

have a friend, a member of this university, who wears such things as

these?"

I might have got clear off, if it had not been for that rascal Simmons.

I saw him give the dean a look, and an almost imperceptible shake of the

head.

"But I don't think, sir," resumed he, "these can be a man's stays--eh,

Simmons?" Simmons looked diligently at his toes. "No," said the dean,

investigating the unhappy garment more closely--"no; I fear, Simmons,

these are female stays!"

The conscientious Simmons made no sign.

"I don't know, sir," said I, as he looked from Simmons to me. "I don't

wear stays, and I know nothing about them. If Simmons were to fetch a

pair of Mrs Simmons's, sir," resumed I, "you could compare them."

Mrs Simmons's figure resembled a sack of flour, with a string round it;

and if she did wear the articles in question, they must have been of a

pattern almost unique--made to order.

"Sir," said the dean, "your flippancy is unbecoming. I shall not pursue

this investigation any further; but I am bound to tell you, sir, this

circumstance is suspicious--very suspicious." I could not resist a smile

for the life of me. "And doubly suspicious, sir, in your case. The eyes

of the college are upon you, sir." He was evidently losing his temper,

so I bowed profoundly, and he grew more irate. "Ever since, sir, that

atrocious business of the frogs, though the college authorities failed

in discovering the guilty parties, there are some individuals, sir,

whose conduct is watched attentively. Good morning, sir."

The "business of the frogs," to which the dean so rancorously alluded,

had, indeed, caused some consternation to the fellows of ----. There had

been a marvellous story going the round of the papers, of a shower of

the inelegant reptiles in question having fallen in some part of the

kingdom. Old women were muttering prophecies, and wise men acknowledged

themselves puzzled. The Ashmolean Society had sat in conclave upon it,

and accounted so satisfactorily for the occurrence, that the only wonder

seemed to be that we had not a shower of frogs, or some equally

agreeable visitors, every rainy morning. Now, every one who has strolled

round Christ-Church meadows on a warm evening, especially after rain,

must have been greeted at intervals by a whole gamut of croaks; and if

he had the curiosity to peer into the green ditches as he passed along,

he might catch a glimpse of the heads of the performers. Well, the joint

reflections of myself and an ingenious friend, who were studying this

branch of zoology while waiting for the coming up of the boats one

night, tended to the conclusion, that a very successful imitation of the

late "Extraordinary Phenomenon" might be got up for the edification of

the scientific in our own college. Animals of all kinds find dealers and

purchasers in Oxford. Curs of lowest degree have their prices. Rats,

being necessary in the education of terriers, come rather expensive. A

polecat--even with three legs only--will command a fancy price.

Sparrows, larks, and other small birds, are retailed by the dozen on

Cowley Marsh to gentlemen undergraduates who are aspiring to the

pigeon-trap. But as yet there had been no demand for frogs, and there

was quite a glut of them in the market. They were cheap accordingly; for

a shilling a-hundred we found that we might inflict the second plague

of Egypt upon the whole university. The next evening, two hampers,

containing, as our purveyor assured us, "very prime 'uns," arrived at my

rooms "from Mr S----, the wine merchant;" and by daylight on the

following morning were judiciously distributed throughout all the

comeatable premises within the college walls. When I awoke the next

morning, I heard voices in earnest conversation under my window, and

looked out with no little curiosity. The frogs had evidently produced a

sensation. The bursar, disturbed apparently from his early breakfast,

stood robed in an ancient dressing-gown, with the _Times_ in his hand,

on which he was balancing a frog as yellow as himself. The dean, in cap

and surplice, on his way from chapel, was eagerly listening to the

account which one of the scouts was giving him of the first discovery of

the intruders.

"Me and my missis, sir," quoth John, "was a-coming into college when it

was hardly to say daylight, when she, as I reckon, sets foot upon one of

'em, and was like to have been back'ards with a set of breakfast chiney,

as she was a-bringing in for one of the fresh gentlemen. She scritches

out, in course, and I looks down, and then I sees two or three a-'oppin

about; but I didn't take much notice till I gets to the thoroughfare,

when there was a whole row on 'em a-trying to climb up the bottom step;

and then I calls Solomon the porter, and"----

Here I left my window, and, making a hasty toilet, joined a group of

undergraduates, who were now collecting round the dean and bursar. I

cast my eyes round the quadrangle, and was delighted with the success of

our labours. There had been a heavy shower in the night, and the frogs

were as lively as they could be on so ungenial a location as a gravelled

court. In every corner was a goodly cluster, who were making ladders of

each other's backs, as if determined to scale the college walls. Some,

of more retiring disposition, were endeavouring to force themselves into

crevices, and hiding their heads behind projections to escape the gaze

of academic eyes; while a few active spirits seemed to be hopping a

sweepstakes right for the common-room door. Just as I made my

appearance, the Principal came out of the door of his lodgings, with

another of the fellows, having evidently been summoned to assist at the

consultation. Good old soul! his study of zoology had been chiefly

confined to the class edibles, and a shower of frogs, authenticated upon

the oaths of the whole Convocation, would not have been half so

interesting to him as an importation of turtle. However, to do him

justice, he put on his spectacles, and looked as scientific as anybody.

After due examination of the specimen of the genus Rana which the bursar

still held in captivity, and pronouncing a unanimous opinion, that,

come from where he would, he was a _bona fide_ frog, with nothing

supernatural about him, the conclave proceeded round the quadrangle,

calculating the numbers, and conjecturing the probable origin of these

strange visitors. Equally curious, if not equally scientific, were the

undergraduates who followed them; for, having strictly kept our own

secret, my friend and myself were the only parties who could solve the

mystery; and though many suspected that the frogs were unwilling

emigrants, none knew to whom they were indebted for their introduction

to college. The collected wisdom of the dons soon decided that a shower

of full-grown frogs was a novelty even in the extraordinary occurrences

of newspapers; and as not even a single individual croaker was to be

discovered outside the walls of ----, it became evident that the whole

affair was, as the dean described it, "another of those outrages upon

academic discipline, which were as senseless as they were disgraceful."

I daresay the dean's anathema was "as sensible as it was sincere;" but

it did not prevent our thoroughly enjoying the success of the

"_outrage_" at the time; nor does it, unfortunately, suffice at this

present moment to check something like an inward chuckle, when I think

of the trouble which it cost the various retainers of the college to

clear it effectually of its strange visitors. Hopkins, the old butler,

who was of rather an imaginative temperament, and had a marvellous tale

to tell any one who would listen, of a departed bursar, who, having

caught his death of cold by superintending the laying down of three

pipes of port, might ever afterwards be heard, upon such interesting

occasions, walking about the damp cellars after nightfall in

pattens,--Hopkins, the oracle of the college "tap," maintained that the

frogs were something "off the common;" and strengthened his opinion by

reference to a specimen which he had selected--a lank, black, skinny

individual, which really looked ugly enough to have come from anywhere.

Scouts, wives, and children (they always make a point of having large

families, in order to eat up the spare commons), all were busy, through

that eventful day, in a novel occupation, and by dinner-time not a frog

was to be seen; but long, long afterwards, on a moist evening, fugitives

from the general proscription might be seen making their silent way

across the quadrangle, and croakings were heard at night-time, which

might (as Homer relates of his frogs) have disturbed Minerva, only that

the goddess of wisdom, in chambers collegiate, sleeps usually pretty

sound.

The "business of the stays," however, bid fair to supersede the business

of the frogs, in the dean's record of my supposed crimes; and as I fully

intended to clear myself, even to his satisfaction, of any suspicion

which might attach to me from the possession of such questionable

articles so soon as our theatre closed for the season, I resolved that

my successful defence from this last imputation would be an admirable

ground on which to assume the dignity of a martyr, to appeal against all

uncharitable conclusions from insufficient premises, and come out as the

personification of injured innocence throughout my whole college career.

When my interview with the dean was over, I ordered some luncheon up to

Leicester's rooms, where, as I expected, I found most of my own "set"

collected, in order to hear the result. A private conference with the

official aforesaid seldom boded good to the party so favoured; the dean

seldom made his communications so agreeable as he might have done. In

college, as in most other societies, La Rochefoucauld's maxim holds

good, that "there is always something pleasant in the misfortunes of

one's friends;" and whenever an unlucky wight did get into a row, he

might pretty confidently reckon upon being laughed at. In fact,

undergraduates considered themselves as engaged in a war of stratagem

against an unholy alliance of deans, tutors, and proctors; and in every

encounter the defeated party was looked upon as the deluded victim of

superior ingenuity--as having been "done," in short. So, if a lark

succeeded, the authorities aforesaid were decidedly done, and laughed

at accordingly; if it failed, why, the other party were done, and there

was still somebody to laugh at. No doubt, the jest was richer in the

first case supposed; but in the second there was the additional gusto,

so dear to human philanthropy, of having the victim present, and

enjoying his discomfiture, which, in the case of the dons being the

sufferers, was denied us. It may seem to argue something of a want of

sympathy to find amusement in misfortunes which might any day be our

own; but any one who ever witnessed the air of ludicrous alarm with

which an undergraduate prepares to obey the summons (capable of

but one interpretation)--"The dean wishes to see you, sir, at ten

o'clock"--which so often, in my time at least, was sent as a whet to

some of the assembled guests at a breakfast-party; whoever has been

applied to on such occasions for the loan of a tolerable cap (that of

the delinquent having its corners in such dilapidated condition as to

proclaim its owner a "rowing man" at once), or has responded to the

pathetic appeal, "Do I look _very_ seedy?"--any one to whom such absurd

recollections of early days occur (and if you, good reader, are a

university man, as, being a gentleman, I am bound in charity to conclude

you are, and yet have no such reminiscences, allow me to suggest that

you must have been a very slow coach indeed)--any one, I say once more,

who knows the ridiculous figure which a man cuts when "hauled up" before

the college Minos or Radamanthus, will easily forgive his friends for

being inclined to laugh at him.

However, in the present case, any anticipations of fun at my expense,

which the party in Leicester's rooms might charitably entertain, were

somewhat qualified by the fear that the consequences of any little

private difference between the dean and myself might affect the

prosperity of our unlicensed theatre. And when they heard how very

nearly the discovery of the stays had been fatal to our project,

execrations against Simmons's espionage were mingled with admiration

of my escape from so critical a position.

The following is, I apprehend, a unique specimen of an Oxford bill, and

the only one, out of a tolerably large bundle which I keep for the sake

of the receipts attached (a precaution by no means uncalled for), which

I find any amusement in referring to:--

---- HAWTHORNE, ESQ.,

To M. MOORE. _s._ _d._

2 pr. brown jean corsets 8 0

Padding for do., made to order 2 6

-------

10 6

Recd. same day, M. M.

Very much surprised was the old lady, of whom I made the purchase in my

capacity of stage-manager, at so uncommon a customer in her line of

business; and when, after enjoying her mystification for some time, I

let her into the secret, so delighted was she at the notion, that she

gave me sundry hints as to the management of the female toilet, and

offered to get made up for me any dresses that might be required. So I

introduced Leicester and his fellow-heroines to my friend Mrs Moore,

and, by the joint exertions of their own tastes and her experience, they

became possessed of some very tolerable costumes. There was a good deal

of fun going on, I fancy, in fitting and measuring, in her back parlour;

for there was a daughter, or a niece, or something of the sort, who cut

out the dresses with the prettiest hands in the world, as Leicester

declared; but I was too busy with carpenters, painters, and other

assistants, to pay more than a flying visit to the ladies' department.

At last the rehearsal did come on. As Hastings, I had not much in the

way of dress to alter; and, having some engagement in the early part of

the morning, I did not arrive at the theatre until the rest of the

characters were already dressed and ready to begin. Though I had been

consulted upon all manner of points, from the arranging of a curl for

Miss Neville to the colour of Diggory's stockings, and knew the costume

of every individual as well as my own, yet so ludicrous was the effect

of the whole when I entered the room, that I threw myself into the

nearest chair, and laughed myself nearly into convulsions. The figure

which first met my eyes was a little ruddy freshman, who had the part of

the landlord, and who, in his zeal to do honour to our preference, had

dressed the character most elaborately. A pillow, which he could

scarcely see over, puffed out his red waistcoat; and his hair was cut

short, and powdered with such good-will that for weeks afterwards, in

spite of diligent brushing, he looked as grey as the Principal. There he

stood, his legs clothed in grey worsted, retreating far beyond his

little white apron, as if ashamed of their unusual appearance--

"The mother that him bare,

She had not known her son."

Every one, however, had not been so classical in their costume. There

was Sir Charles Marlow in what had been a judge's wig, and Mr Hardcastle

in a barrister's; both sufficiently unlike themselves, at any rate, if

not very correct copies of their originals. Then the women! As for Mrs

Hardcastle, she was perfection. There never was, I believe, a better

representation of the character. It was well dressed, and turned out a

first-rate bit of acting--very far superior to any amateur performance I

ever saw, and, with practice, would have equalled that of any actress on

the stage. Her very curtsy was comedy itself. When I recovered my breath

a little, I was able to attend to the dialogue which was going on,

which was hardly less ridiculous than the strange disguises round me.

"Now, Miss Hardcastle" (Marlow _loquitur_), "I have no objection to your

smoking cigars during rehearsal, of course--because you won't do that on

Monday night, I suppose; but I must beg you to get out of the practice

of standing or sitting cross-legged, because it's not lady-like, or even

bar-maid like--and don't laugh when I make love to you; for if you do, I

shall break down to a certainty." "Thornhill, do you think my waist will

do?" said the anxious representative of the fair Constance. "I have worn

these cursed stays for an hour every evening for the last week, and

drawn them an inch tighter every time; but I don't think I'm a very good

figure after all--just try if they'll come any closer, will you?" "Oh!

Hawthorne, I'm glad you are come," said Savile, whom I hardly knew, in a

red wig; "now, isn't there to be a bowl of real punch in the scene at

the Three Pigeons--one can't _pretend_ to drink, you know, with any

degree of spirit?"--"Oh! of course," said I; "that's one of the

landlord's properties; Miller, you must provide that, you know: send

down for some cold tankards now; they will do very well for rehearsal."

At last we got to work, and proceeded, with the prompter's assistance,

pretty smoothly, and mutually applauding each other's performance, going

twice over some of the most difficult scenes, and cutting out a good

deal of love and sentiment. The play was fixed for the next Monday

night, playbills ordered to be printed, and cards of invitation issued

to all the performers' intimate friends. Every scout in the college, I

believe, except my rascal Simmons, was in the secret, and probably some

of the fellows had a shrewd guess at what was going on; but no one

interfered with us. We carried on all our operations as quietly as

possible; and the only circumstance likely to arouse suspicion in the

minds of the authorities, was the unusual absence of all disturbances of

a minor nature within the walls, in consequence of the one engrossing

freak in which most of the more turbulent spirits were engaged.

At length the grand night arrived. By nine o'clock the theatre in

Savile's rooms was as full as it could be crammed with any degree of

comfort to actors and audience; and in the study and bedroom, which,

being on opposite sides, served admirably for dressing-rooms behind the

scenes, the usual bustle of preparation was going on. As is common in

such cases, some essential properties had been forgotten until the last

moment. No bonnet had been provided for Mrs Hardcastle to take her walks

abroad in; and when the little hair-dresser, who had been retained to

give a finishing touch to some of the coiffures, returned with one

belonging to his "missis," which he had volunteered to lend, the roar

of uncontrollable merriment which this new embellishment of our

disguised friend called forth, made the audience clamorous for the

rising of the curtain--thinking, very excusably, that it was quite

unjustifiable to keep all the fun to ourselves.

After some little trial of our "public's" patience, the play began in

good earnest, and was most favourably received. Indeed, as the only

price of admission exacted was a promise of civil behaviour, and there

were two servants busily employed in handing about punch and "bishop,"

it would have been rather hard if we did not succeed in propitiating

their good-humour. With the exception of two gentlemen who had been

dining out, and were rather noisy in consequence, and evinced a strong

inclination occasionally to take a part in the dialogue, all behaved

wonderfully well, greeting each performer, as he made his first

entrance, with a due amount of cheering; rapturously applauding all the

best scenes; laughing (whether at the raciness of the acting, or the

grotesque metamorphoses of the actors, made no great difference), and

filling up any gap which occurred in the proceedings on the stage, in

spite of the prompter, with vociferous encouragement to the "sticket"

actor. With an audience so disposed, each successive scene went off

better and better. One deserves to be particularised. It was the second

in the first act of the comedy; the stage directions for it are as

follows: "Scene--An alehouse room--Several shabby fellows with punch and

tobacco; Tony at the head of the table, &c., discovered." Never,

perhaps, in any previous representation, was the _mise en scene_ so

perfect; it drew three rounds of applause. A very equivocal compliment

to ourselves it may be; but such jolly-looking "shabby fellows" as sat

round the table at which our Tony presided, were never furnished by the

supernumeraries of Drury or Covent Garden. They were as classical, in

their way, as Macready's Roman mob. Then there was no make-believe

puffing of empty pipes, and fictitious drinking of small-beer for punch;

every nose among the audience could appreciate the genuineness of both

liquor and tobacco; and the hearty encore which the song, with its

stentorian chorus, was honoured with, gave all the parties engaged time

to enjoy their punch and their pipes to their satisfaction. It was quite

a pity, as was unanimously agreed, when the entrance of Marlow and

Hastings, as in duty bound, interrupted so jovial a society. But "all

that's bright must fade"--and so the Three Pigeons' scene, and the play

too, came to an end in due course. The curtain fell amidst universal

applause, modified only by the urgent request, which, as manager, I had

more than once to repeat, that gentlemen would be kind enough to

restrain their feelings for fear of disturbing the dons. The house

resolved itself into its component elements--all went their ways,--the

reading men probably to a Greek play, by way of afterpiece; sleepy ones

to bed, and idle ones to their various inventions; and the actors, after

the fatigues of the night, to a supper, which was to be the "finish." It

was to take place in one of the men's rooms which happened to be on the

same staircase, and had been committed to the charge of certain parties,

who understood our notions of an unexceptionable spread. And a right

merry party we were, all sitting down in character--Mrs Hardcastle at

the top of the table, her worthy partner at bottom, with the "young

ladies" on each side. It was the best tableau of the evening; pity there

was neither artist to sketch, nor spectators to admire it! But, like

many other merry meetings, there are faithful portraits of it--proof

impressions--in the memories of many who were present, not yet

obliterated, hardly even dimmed, by time; laid by, like other valuables,

which, in the turmoil of life, we find no time to look at, but not

thrown aside or forgotten, and brought out sometimes, in holidays

and quiet hours, for us to look at once more, and enjoy their beauty,

and feel, after all, how much what we have changed is "_coelum

non animum_." I am now--no matter what. Of my companions at that

well-remembered supper, one is a staid and orthodox divine; one a rising

barrister; a third a respectable country gentleman, justice of the

peace, "and quorum;" a fourth, they tell me, a semi-Papist: but set us

all down together in that same room, draw the champagne corks, and let

some Lethe (the said champagne, if you please) wash out all that has

passed over us in the last few years, and my word on it, three out of

four of us are but boys still; and though much shaving, pearl powder,

and carmine, might fail to make of any of the party a heroine of any

more delicate class than Meg Merrilies, I have no doubt we could all

of us once more smoke a pipe in character at "The Three Pigeons."

Merrily the evening passed off, and merrily the little hours came on,

and song and laugh rather grew gayer than slackened. The strings of the

stays had long ago been cut, and the tresses, which were in the way of

the cigars, were thrown back in dishevelled elegance. The landlord found

his stuffing somewhat warm, and had laid aside half his fleshy

encumbrance. Every one was at his ease, and a most uproarious chorus had

just been sung by the whole strength of the company, when we heard the

ominous sound of a quiet double-rap at the outer door.

"Who's there?" said one of the most self-possessed of the company.

"I wish to speak to Mr Challoner," was the quiet reply.

The owner of the rooms was luckily in no more _outre_ costume than that

of Sir Charles Marlow; and having thrown off his wig, and buttoned his

coat over a deep-flapped waistcoat, looked tolerably like himself as he

proceeded to answer the summons. I confess I rather hoped than otherwise

that the gentleman, whoever he was, would walk in, when, if he intended

to astonish us, he was very likely to find the tables turned. However,

even college dons recognise the principle that every man's house is his

castle, and never violate the sanctity of even an undergraduate's rooms.

The object of this present visit, however, was rather friendly than

otherwise. One of the fellows, deservedly popular, had been with the

dean, and had left him in a state of some excitement from the increasing

merriment which came somewhat too audibly across the quadrangle from our

party. He had called, therefore, to advise Challoner either to keep his

friends quiet, or to get rid of them, if he wished to keep out of the

dean's jurisdiction. As it was towards three in the morning, we thought

it prudent to take this advice as it was meant, and in a few minutes

began to wend our respective ways homewards. Leicester and myself, whose

rooms lay in the same direction, were steering along, very soberly,

under a bright moonlight, when something put it into the heads of some

other stragglers of the party to break out, at the top of their voices,

into a stanza of that immortal ditty, "We won't go home till morning."

Instantly we could hear a window, which we well knew to be the dean's,

open above us, and as the unmelodious chorus went on, his wrath found

vent in the usual strain--"Who is making that disturbance?"

No one volunteering an explanation, he went on.

"Who are those in the quadrangle?"

Leicester and I walked somewhat faster. I am not sure that our dignity

did not condescend to run, as we heard steps coming down from No. 5, at

a pace that evidently portended a chase, and remembered for the first

time the remarkable costume which, to common observers, would indicate

that there was a visitor of an unusual character enjoying the moonlight

in the quadrangle. When we reached the "thoroughfare," the passage from

the inner to the outer quadrangle, we fairly bolted; and as the steps

came pretty fast after us, and Leicester's rooms were the nearest, we

both made good our retreat thither, and sported oak.

The porter's lodge was in the next number; and hearing a knocking in

that quarter, Leicester gently opened the window, and we could catch the

following dialogue:--

"Solomon! open this door directly--it is I, the dean."

"Good dear sir!" said Solomon, apparently asleep, and fumbling for the

keys of the college gates--"let you out? O yes, sir--directly."

"Listen to me, Solomon: I am not going out. Did you let any one out just

now--just before I called you?"

"No, sir; nobody whatsomdever."

"Solomon! I ask you, did you not, just now, let a _woman_ out?"

"Lawk! no, sir--Lord forbid!" said Solomon, now thoroughly wakened.

"Now, Solomon, bring your light, and come with me; this must be inquired

into. I saw a woman run this way, and if she is not gone through the

gate, she is gone into this next number. Whose rooms are in No. 13?"

"There's Mr Dyson's, sir, on the ground-floor."

Mr Dyson was the very fellow who had called at Challoner's rooms. "Hah!

well, I'll call Mr Dyson up. Whose besides?"

"There's Mr Leicester, sir, above his'n."

"Very well, Solomon; call up Mr Dyson, and say I wish to speak with him

particularly."

And so saying, the dean proceeded up-stairs.

The moment Leicester heard his name mentioned, he began to anticipate a

domiciliary visit. The thing was so ridiculous that we hardly knew what

to do.

"Shall I get into bed, Hawthorne? I don't want to be caught in this

figure."

"Why, I don't know that you will be safe there, in the present state of

the dean's suspicions. No; tuck up those confounded petticoats, clap on

your pea-jacket, twist those love-locks up under your cap, light this

cigar, and sit in your easy-chair. The dean must be 'cuter than usual if

he finds you out as the lady he is in search of."

Leicester had hardly time to take this advice--the best I could hit upon

at the moment--when the dean knocked at the door.

"Who are you? Come in," said we both in a breath.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Leicester," said the dean in his most official

tone; "nothing but actually imperative duty occasions my intrusion at

this unseasonable hour, but a most extraordinary circumstance must be my

excuse. I saw, gentlemen--I saw with my own eyes," he continued, looking

blacker as he caught sight of me, and remembering, no doubt, the little

episode of the stays--"I saw a female figure move in this direction but

a few minutes ago. No such person has passed the gate, for I have made

inquiry; certainly I have no reason to suppose any such person is

concealed here; but I am bound to ask you, sir, on your honour as a

gentleman--for I have no wish to make a search--is there any such person

concealed in your apartments?"

"On my honour, sir, no one is or has been lately here, but myself and Mr

Hawthorne."

Here Dyson came into the room, looking considerably mystified.

"What's the matter, Mr Dean?" said he, nodding good-humouredly to us.

"A most unpleasant occurrence, my dear sir; I have seen a woman in this

direction not five minutes back. Unfortunately, I cannot be mistaken.

She either passed into the porter's lodge or into this staircase."

"She is not in my rooms, I assure you," said he, laughing; "I should

think you made a mistake: it must have been some man in a white

mackintosh."

I smiled, and Leicester laughed outright.

"I am not mistaken, sir," said the dean warmly. "I shall take your word,

Mr Leicester; but allow me to tell you, that your conduct in lolling in

that chair, as if in perfect contempt, and neither rising, nor removing

your cap, when Mr Dyson and myself are in your rooms, is consistent

neither with the respect due from an undergraduate, nor the behaviour I

should expect from a gentleman."

Poor Leicester coloured, and unwittingly removed his cap. The chestnut

curls, some natural and some artificial, which had been so studiously

arranged for Miss Hardcastle's head-dress, fell in dishevelled

luxuriance round his face; and as he half rose from his previous

position in the chair, a pink-silk dress began to descend from under the

pea-jacket. Concealment was at an end; the dean looked bewildered at

first, and then savage; but a hearty laugh from Dyson settled the

business.

"What, Leicester! you're the lady the dean has been hunting about

college! Upon my word, this is the most absurd piece of

masquerading!--what on earth is it all about?"

I pitied Leicester, he looked such an extraordinary figure in his

ambiguous dress, and seemed so thoroughly ashamed of himself; so,

displaying the tops and cords in which I had enacted Hastings, I

acknowledged my share in the business, and gave a brief history of the

drama during my management. The dean endeavoured to look grave: Dyson

gave way to undisguised amusement, and repeatedly exclaimed, "Oh! why

did you not send me a ticket? When do you perform again?"

Alas! never. Brief, as bright, was our theatrical career. But the memory

of it lives in the college still--of the comedy, and the supper, and the

curious mistake which followed it; and the dean has not to this hour

lost the credit which he then gained, of having a remarkably keen eye

for a petticoat.

PRINTED BY WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH.

* * * * *

Transcriber's note:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise,

every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and

intent.