Chapter 6

"'Thrushes! thousands.'

"'Bravo! You may reckon upon me, captain, for a supply of game. That is, if you will order my fowling-piece to be returned to me. I cannot shoot well with any other.

"'Agreed,' said the captain.

"'Tonino,' said Mademoiselle Zephyrine, 'you promised to take me to the theatre to-morrow. I am curious to see the dancer who has replaced me.'

"'There is no performance to-morrow,' replied the captain, 'and I am not sure the carriage is in good condition. But we can take a ride to Tivoli or Subiaco, if you like.'

"'Will you come with us, my dear M. Louet?' said Mademoiselle Zephyrine.

"'Thank you,' replied I; 'I am not accustomed to ride. I would rather have a day's shooting.'

"'I will keep M. Louet company,' said the lieutenant.

"On retiring to my apartment that night, I found my fowling-piece in one corner, my game-bag in another, and my hundred crowns on the chimney-piece. Captain Tonino was a man of his word.

"Whilst I was undressing, the French cook came to know what I would choose for breakfast. 'Count Villaforte,' he said, 'had ordered that I should be served in my room, as I was going out shooting.' The captain, it appeared, had changed his name as well as his dress.

"The next morning I had just dressed and breakfasted, when the lieutenant came to fetch me, and I accompanied him down-stairs. In front of the villa four saddle-horses were being led up and down--one for the captain, one for Mademoiselle Zephyrine, and the two others for servants. The captain put a brace of double-barrelled pistols into his holsters, and the servants did the same. Master and men had a sort of fancy costume, which allowed them to wear a couteau-de-chasse. The captain saw that I remarked all these precautions.

"'The police is shocking in this country, M. Louet,' said he, 'and there are so many bad characters about, that it is well to be armed.'

"Mademoiselle Zephyrine looked charming in her riding-habit and hat.

"'Much pleasure, my dear M. Louet,' said the captain, as he got on his horse. 'Beaumanoir, take care of M. Louet.'

"'The best possible care, count.' replied the lieutenant.

"'The captain and Zephyrine waved their hands, and cantered away, followed by their servants.

"'Pardon me, sir,' said I, approaching the lieutenant; 'I believe it was you whom the count addressed as Beaumanoir.'

"'It was so.'

"'I thought the family of Beaumanoir had been extinct.'

"'Very possible. I revive it, that's all.'

"'You are perfectly at liberty to do so, sir,' replied I. 'I beg pardon for the observation.'

"'Granted, granted, my dear Louet. Would you like a dog, or not?'

"'Sir, I prefer shooting without a dog. The last I had insulted me most cruelly, and I should not like the same thing to occur again.'

"'As you please. Gaetano, untie Romeo.'

"We commenced our sport. In six shots I killed four thrushes, which satisfied me that the one which I had followed from Marseilles had been an enchanted one. Beaumanoir laughed at me.

"'What!' cried he. 'Do you amuse yourself in firing at such game as that?'

"'Sir,' replied I, 'at Marseilles the thrush is a very rare animal. I have seen but one in my life, and it is to that one I owe the advantage of being in your society.'

"Here and there I saw gardeners and gamekeepers whose faces were familiar to me, and who touched their hats as I passed. They looked to me very like my old friends, the robbers, in a new dress; but I had, of late, seen so many extraordinary things, that nothing astonished me any longer.

"The park was very extensive, and enclosed by a high wall, which had light iron gratings placed here and there, to afford a view of the surrounding country. I happened to be standing near one of these gratings, when M. Beaumanoir fired at a pheasant.

"'_Signore_,' said a countryman, who was passing, '_questo castello e il castello d'Anticoli?_'

"'Villager,' I replied, walking towards the grating, 'I do not understand Italian; speak French, and I shall be happy to answer.'

"'What! Is it you, M. Louet?' exclaimed the peasant.

"'Yes, it is,' said I; 'but how do you know my name?'

"'Hush! I am Ernest, the hussar officer, your travelling companion.'

"'M. Ernest! Ah! Mademoiselle Zephyrine will be delighted.'

"'Zephyrine is really here, then?'

"'Certainly she is. A prisoner like myself.'

"'And Count Villaforte?'

"'Is Captain Tonino.'

"'And the castle?'

"'A den of thieves.'

"'That is all I wanted to know. Adieu, my dear Louet. Tell Zephyrine she shall soon hear from me.' So saying, he plunged into the forest.

"'Here, Romeo, here!' cried Mr. Beaumanoir to his dog, who was fetching the bird he had shot. I hastened to him.

"'A beautiful pheasant!' cried I. 'A fine cock!'

"'Yes, yes. Who were you talking to, M. Louet?'

"'To a peasant, who asked me some question, to which I replied, that unfortunately I did not understand Italian.'

"'Hum!' said Beaumanoir, with a suspicious side-glance at me. Then, having loaded his gun, 'We will change places, if you please,' said he. 'There may be some more peasants passing, and, as I understand Italian, I shall be able to answer their questions.'

"'As you like, M. Beaumanoir,' said I.

"The change was effected; but no more peasants appeared.

"When we returned to the house, the captain and Zephyrine had not yet come back from their ride, and I amused myself in my room with my bass, which I found to be an excellent instrument. I resolved, more than ever, not to part with it, but to take it back to France with me, if ever I returned to that country.

"At the hour of dinner, I repaired to the drawing-room, where I found Count Villaforte and Mademoiselle Zephyrine. I had scarcely closed the door, when it was reopened, and the lieutenant put in his head.

"'Captain!' said he, in a hurried voice.

"'Who calls me captain? Here there is no captain, my dear Beaumanoir, but a Count Villaforte.'

"'Captain, it is a serious matter. One moment, I beg.'

"The captain left the room. When the door was shut, and I was sure he could not hear me, I told Zephyrine of my interview with her lover. I had just finished when the captain reappeared.

"'Well,' said Zephyrine, running to meet him. 'What makes you look so blank? Are there bad news?'

"'Not very good ones.'

"'Do they come from a sure source?' asked she with an anxiety which this time was not assumed.

"'From the surest possible. From one of our friends who is employed in the police.'

"'Gracious Heaven! What is going to happen?'

"'We do not know yet, but it appears we have been traced from Chianciano to the Osteria Barberini. They only lost the scent behind Mount Gennaro. My dear Rina, I fear we must give up our visit to the theatre to-morrow.'

"'But not our dinner to-day, captain, I hope,' said I.

"'Here is your answer,' said the captain, as the door opened, and a servant announced that the soup was on the table.

"The captain and lieutenant dined each with a brace of pistols beside his plate, and in the anteroom I saw two men armed with carbines. The repast was a silent one; I did not dine comfortably myself, for I had a sort of feeling that the catastrophe was approaching, and that made me uneasy.

"'You will excuse me for leaving you,' said the captain, when dinner was over; 'but I must go and take measures for our safety. I would advise you not to undress, M. Louet, for we may have to make a sudden move, and it is well to be ready.'

"The lieutenant conducted me to my apartment, and wished me good-night with great politeness. As he left the room, however, I heard that he double-locked the door. I had nothing better to do than to throw myself on my bed, which I did; but for some hours I found it impossible to sleep, on account of the anxieties and unpleasant thoughts that tormented me. At last I fell into a troubled slumber.

"I do not know how long it had lasted, when I was awakened by being roughly shaken.

"'Subito! subito!' cried a voice.

"'What is the matter?' said I, sitting up on the bed.

"'_Non capisco, seguir me_!' cried the bandit.

"'And where am I to _seguir_ you?' said I, understanding that he told me to follow him.

"'Avanti! Avanti!'

"'May I take my bass?' I asked.

"The man made sign in the affirmative, so I put my beloved instrument on my back, and told him I was ready to follow him. He led me through several corridors and down a staircase; then, opening a door, we found ourselves in the park. Day was beginning to dawn. After many turnings and windings, we entered a copse or thicket, in the depths of which was the opening of a sort of grotto, where one of the robbers was standing sentry. They pushed me into this grotto. It was very dark, and I was groping about with extended arms, when somebody grasped my hand. I was on the point of crying out; but the hand that held mine was too soft to be that of a brigand.

"'M. Louet!' said a whispering voice, which I at once recognized.

"'What is the meaning of all this, Mademoiselle?' asked I, in the same tone.

"'The meaning is, that they are surrounded by a regiment, and Ernest is at the head of it.'

"'But why are we put into this grotto?'

"'Because it is the most retired place in the whole park, and consequently the one least likely to be discovered. Besides there is a door in it, which communicates probably with some subterraneous passage leading into the open country.'

"Just then we heard a musket shot.

"'Bravo!' cried Zephyrine; 'it is beginning.'

"There was a running fire, then a whole volley.

"'Mademoiselle,' said I, 'it appears to me to be increasing very much.'

"'So much the better,' answered she.

"She was as brave as a lioness, that young girl. For my part I acknowledge I felt very uncomfortable. But it appears I was doomed to witness engagements both by land and sea.

"'The firing is coming nearer,' said Zephyrine.

"'I am afraid so, Mademoiselle,' answered I.

"'On the contrary, you ought to be delighted. It is a sign that the robbers are flying.'

"'I had rather they fled in another direction.'

"There was a loud clamour, and cries as if they were cutting one another's throats, which, in fact, they were. The shouts and cries were mingled with the noise of musketry, the sound of the trumpets, and roll of the drum. There was a strong smell of powder. The fight was evidently going on within a hundred yards of the grotto.

"Suddenly there was a deep sigh, then the noise of a fall, and one of the sentries at the mouth of the cave came rolling to our feet. A random shot had struck him, and as he just fell in, a ray of light which entered the grotto, we were able to see him writhing in the agonies of death. Mademoiselle Zephyrine seized my hands, and I felt that she trembled violently.

"'Oh, M. Louet.' said she, 'it is very horrible to see a man die!'

"At that moment we heard a voice exclaiming--'Stop, cowardly villain! Wait for me!'

"'Ernest!' exclaimed Zephyrine. 'It is the voice of Ernest!'

"As she spoke the captain rushed in, covered with blood.

"'Zephyrine!' cried he, 'Zephyrine, where are you?'

"The sudden change from the light of day to the darkness of the cave, prevented him from seeing us. Zephyrine made me a sign to keep silence. After remaining for a moment as if dazzled, his eyes got accustomed to the darkness. He bounded towards us with the spring of a tiger.

"'Zephyrine, why don't you answer when I call? Come!'

"He seized her arm, and began dragging her towards the door at the back of the grotto.

"'Where are you taking me?' cried the poor girl.

"'Come with me--come along!'

"'Never!' cried she, struggling.

"'What! You won't go with me?'

"'No; why should I? I detest you. You carried me off by force. I won't follow you. Ernest, Ernest, here!'

"'Ernest!' muttered the captain. 'Ha! 'Tis you, then, who betrayed us?'

"'M. Louet!' cried Zephyrine, 'if you are a man, help me!'

"I saw the blade of a poniard glitter. I had no weapon, but I seized my bass by the handle, and, raising it in the air, let it fall with such violence on the captain's skull, that the back of the instrument was smashed in and the bandit's head disappeared in the interior of the bass. Either the violence of the blow, or the novelty of finding his head in a bass, so astonished the captain that he let go his hold of Zephyrine, at the same time uttering a roar like that of a mad bull.

"'Zephyrine! Zephyrine!' cried a voice outside.

"'Ernest!' answered the young girl, darting out of the grotto.

"I followed her, terrified at my own exploit. She was already clasped in the arms of her lover.

"'In there,' cried the young officer to a party of soldiers who just then came up. 'He is in there. Bring him out, dead or alive.'

"They rushed in, but the broken bass was all they found. The captain had escaped by the other door.

"On our way to the house we saw ten or twelve dead bodies. One was lying on the steps leading to the door.

"'Take away this carrion,' said Ernest.

"Two soldiers turned the body over. It was the last of the Beaumanoirs.

"We remained but a few minutes at the house, and then Zephyrine and myself got into a carriage and set off, escorted by M. Ernest and a dozen men. I did not forget to carry off my hundred crowns, my fowling-piece, and game-bag. As to my poor bass, the captain's head had completely spoiled it.

"After an hour's drive, we came in sight of a large city with an enormous dome the middle of it. It was Rome.

"'And did you see the Pope, M. Louet?'

"'At that time he was at Fontainbleau, but I saw him afterwards, and his successor too; for M. Ernest got me an appointment as bass-player at the Teatro de la Valle, and I remained there till the year 1830. When I at last returned to Marseilles, they did not know me again, and for some time refused to give me back my place in the orchestra, under pretence that I was not myself.'

"'And Mademoiselle Zephyrine?'

"'I heard that she married M. Ernest, whose other name I never knew, and that he became a general, and she a very great lady."

"'And Captain Tonino? Did you hear nothing more of him?'

"'Three years afterwards he came to the theatre in disguise; was recognised, arrested, and hung.'

"'And thus it was, sir,' concluded M. Louet, 'that a thrush led me into Italy, and caused me to pass twenty years at Rome.'"

And so ends the thrush-hunt. One word at parting, to qualify any too sweeping commendation we may have bestowed on M. Dumas in the early part of this paper. While we fully exonerate his writings from the charge of grossness, and recognise the absence of those immoral and pernicious tendencies which disfigure the works of many gifted French writers of the day, we would yet gladly see him abstain from the somewhat too Decameronian incidents and narratives with which he occasionally varies his pages. That he is quite independent of such meretricious aids, is rendered evident by his entire avoidance of them in some of his books, which are not on that account a whit the less _piquant_. With this single reservation, we should hail with pleasure the appearance on our side the Channel of a few such sprightly and amusing writers as Alexander Dumas.

* * * * *

HIGH LIFE IN THE LAST CENTURY.[5]

[5] _George Selwyn and his Contemporaries, with Memoirs and Notes_. By T.H. Jesse. 4 vols.

The volumes of which we are about to give fragments and anecdotes, contain a portion of the letters addressed to a man of witty memory, whose existence was passed almost exclusively among men and women of rank; his life, in the most expressive sense of the word, West End; and even in that West End, his chief haunt St James's Street. Parliament and the Clubs divided his day, and often his night. The brilliant roués, the steady gamesters, the borough venders, and the lordly ex-members of ex-cabinets, were the only population of whose living and breathing he suffered himself to have any cognizance. In reverse of Gray's learned mouse, eating its way through the folios of an ancient library--and to whom

"A river or a sea was but a dish of tea, And a kingdom bread and butter,"

to George Selwyn, the world and all that it inhabits, were concentrated in Charles Fox, William Pitt, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and the circle of men of pleasantry, loose lives, and vivacious temperaments, who, with whatever diminishing lustre, revolved round them.

Of the City of London, Selwyn probably had heard; for though fixed to one spot, he was a man fond of collecting curious knowledge; but nothing short of proof positive can ever convince us that he had passed Temple Bar. He, of course, knew that there were such things on the globe as merchants and traders, because their concerns were occasionally talked of in "the House," where, however, he heard as little as possible about them; for in the debates of the time he took no part but that of a listener, and even then he abridged the difficulty, by generally sleeping through the sitting. He was supposed to be the only rival of Lord North in the happy faculty of falling into a sound slumber at the moment when any of those dreary persons, who chiefly speak on such subjects, was on his legs. St James's, and the talk of St James's, were his business, his pleasures, the exciters of his wit, and the rewarders of his toil. He had applied the art of French cookery to the rude material of the world, and refined and reduced all things into a _sauce piquante_--all its realities were concentrated in essences; and, disdaining the grosser tastes of mankind, he lived upon the _aroma_ of high life--an epicure even among epicures; yet not an indolent enjoyer of the luxuries of his condition, but a keen, restless, and eager _student_ of pleasurable sensations--an Apicius, polished by the manners, and furnished with the arts of the most self-enjoying condition of mankind, that of an English gentleman of fortune in the 18th century.

We certainly are not the champions of this style of life. We think that man has other matters to consider than _pâtés_ and _consommés_, the flavour of his Burgundy and pines, or even the _bons-mots_ of his friends. We are afraid that we must, after all, regard the whole Selwyn class as little better than the brutes in their stables, or on their hearth-rugs; with the advantage to the brutes of following their natural appetites, having no twinges of either conscience or the gout, and not being from time to time stripped by their friends, or plundered by the Jews. The closing hours of the horse or the dog are also, perhaps, more complacent in general, and their deaths are less a matter of rejoicing to those who are to succeed to their mangers and cushions. Of higher and more startling contemplations, this is not the place to speak. If such men shall yet have the power of looking down from some remoter planet on their idle, empty, and self-indulgent course in our own, perhaps they would rejoice to have exchanged with the lot of him whose bread was earned by the sweat of his brow, yet who had fulfilled the duties of his station; and whose hand had been withheld by necessity from that banquet, where all the nobler purposes of life were forgotten, and where the senses absorbed the higher nature. Still, we admit that these are topics on which no man ought to judge the individual with severity. We have spoken only of the class. The individual may have had virtues of which the world can know nothing; he may have been liberal, affectionate, and zealous, when his feelings were once awakened; his purse may have dried many a tear, and soothed many a pulse of secret suffering. It is, at all events, more kindly to speak of poor human nature with fellow feeling for those exposed to the strong temptations of fortune, than to establish an arrogant comparison between the notorious errors of others, and the secret failures of our own.

But we have something to settle with Mr Jesse. He is alive, and therefore may be instructed; he is making books with great rapidity, and therefore may be advantageously warned of the perils of book-making. The _title_ of his volumes has altogether deceived us. We shall not charge him with intending this; but it has unquestionably had the effect. "_George Selwyn_ and his contemporaries." We opened the volumes, expecting to find our witty clubbist in every page; George in his full expansion, "in his armour as he lived;" George, every inch a wit, glittering before us in his full court suit, in his letters, his anecdotes, his whims, his odd views of mankind, his caustic sneerings at the glittering world round him; an epistolary HB., turning every thing into the pleasant food of his pen and pungency. But we cannot discover any letters from him, excepting a few very trifling ones of his youth. We have letters from all sorts of persons, great lords and little, statesmen and travellers, placemen and place-hunters; and amusing enough many of them are. Walpole furnishes some sketches, and nothing can be better. In fact the volumes exhibit, not George Selwyn, the only one whose letters we should have cared to see, but those who wrote to him. And the disappointment is not the less, that in those letters constant allusions are made to his "sparkling, delightful, sportive, characteristic, &c. &c., epistles." Great ladies constantly urge him to write to _them_. Maids, wives, and widows, pour out a stream of perpetual laudation. Men of rank, men of letters, men at home, and men abroad, unite in one common supplication for "London news" _réchaufféed_, spiced, and served up, by the perfect _cuisinerie_ of George's art of story-telling; like the horse-leech's two daughters, the cry is, "Give, give." And this is what we wanted to see. Selwyn, the whole Selwyn, and nothing but Selwyn.

It is true that there is a preface which talks in this wise:--

It seems to have been one of the peculiarities of George Selwyn, to preserve not only every letter addressed to him by his correspondents during the course of his long life, but also the most trifling notes and memoranda. To this peculiarity, the reader is indebted for whatever amusement he may derive from the perusal of these volumes. The greater portion of their contents consists of letters addressed to Selwyn, by persons who, in their day, moved in the first circles of wit, genius, and fashion."

We have thus let Mr Jesse speak for himself. If the public are satisfied, so let it be. But people seldom read prefaces. The title is the thing, and that title is, "_George Selwyn_ and his contemporaries." If it had been "Letters of the contemporaries of George Selwyn," we should have understood the matter.