CHAPTER CCIX.

MR. GREEN’S MISSION.

In the meantime Mr. Green had taken a cab, and ordered himself to be driven to the mansion of the Earl of Ellingham in Pall Mall.

While he was proceeding thither, he threw himself back in the vehicle and gave way to a variety of pleasurable reflections. He considered his prospects to be most brilliant; and he believed that he was on the high road to amass as considerable a fortune as that which his late master Heathcote had once enjoyed. It was fortunate for him that he had applied to Jack Rily in the hour of his need: the Doctor had proved of the greatest assistance to him;--and he resolved to run down to Woolwich some day and call upon his old friend at the hulks. For Jack Rily had been tried for the murder of Vitriol Bob, and acquitted of the capital charge: but he was condemned to two years’ imprisonment in a convict-ship for manslaughter, the police having appeared to give him a character which by no means recommended him to the good opinion of the jury nor the mercy of the Court. As for the immense quantity of Bank-notes found upon his person at the time of his arrest, he had positively refused to give any satisfactory account concerning them; and as no one stood forward to claim them, nor to throw any light upon this mysterious subject, they were declared to be forfeited to the Crown on the prisoner’s conviction for manslaughter.

Pondering upon these and other matters, Mr. Green arrived in due course at the noble mansion in Pall Mall; and on inquiring for Mr. Hatfield, he was informed that this gentleman was ill in bed.

“But my business is of the most urgent character,” said the attorney; “and I must see him.”

The domestic to whom this assurance was given, conducted Mr. Green into a parlour, and hastened to report to the Earl of Ellingham the presence of the visitor.

The nobleman accordingly repaired to the room in which Green was waiting, and represented to him that Mr. Hatfield was too much indisposed to receive any stranger.

“If, however,” added the Earl, “you will communicate to me the nature of the affair which has brought you hither, your object will be gained as readily as if you saw Mr. Hatfield. He is an intimate friend of mine--indeed, a bosom friend,” said the nobleman, emphatically; “and we have no secrets from each other.”

“I must respectfully decline to open my business to your lordship in the first instance,” returned Mr. Green. “But I should be glad if your lordship would witness what I have to say to Mr. Hatfield.”

“Your card informs me that you are an attorney, sir,” said the Earl of Ellingham: “may I ask if the object of your visit be of a legal nature?--because in that case, you would do well to address yourself to my solicitor.”

“You must excuse me, my lord,” was the laconic answer, “if I decline giving any explanations.”

“Although I consider your behaviour to be far from courteous, Mr. Green,” said the Earl, “I will communicate to Mr. Hatfield your desire to have an interview with him; and perhaps, under the circumstances, he may see you.”

“Good, my lord,” responded the attorney. “I am in no particular hurry--and will cheerfully wait an hour or two in order to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Hatfield.”

The Earl of Ellingham forthwith repaired to his half-brother’s room, and mentioned to him all that had occurred. Mr. Hatfield, though feeling weak after the long illness which he had experienced, considered the behaviour of the visitor to be so extraordinary that it was advisable to grant the interview demanded.

Lord Ellingham accordingly returned to the parlour, and thence conducted the attorney to the chamber where Mr. Hatfield was lying in bed.

The invalid cast a rapid and searching glance at Green as he entered the room; but he recognised in the visitor no one with whom he remembered to have ever been acquainted.

Scarcely was the door closed, when it opened again--and the Countess of Ellingham, accompanied by Lady Georgiana, made her appearance: but, on perceiving a stranger, they both drew back and were about to withdraw.

“There are no secrets here, ladies--no secrets, I can assure you,” exclaimed Mr. Green, with a smirking expression of countenance, which, nevertheless, had a deep malignity in it.

“In that case, come in,” said Lord Ellingham; and the two ladies accordingly entered the room.

“Will you now explain the object of your visit, sir?” asked Mr. Hatfield, who had observed the sinister aspect which the attorney’s features had ere now assumed, and who entertained a vague presentiment of evil.

“I must begin by informing you,” said Green, taking a seat, and glancing around on those present, as much as to intimate that he spoke to no one in particular, but was addressing them all collectively,--“I must begin by informing you that I am a very extraordinary person in one respect--which is, that I am constantly ferretting about amongst old papers, musty documents, and ancient records; and while engaged in this occupation I frequently light upon strange secrets--very strange indeed.”

While he was yet uttering these last words, the rapid look which he threw around convinced him that he had already made a most unpleasant impression upon his auditory: for the ladies both turned pale and started--while the Earl and Mr. Hatfield exchanged glances significant of alarm.

“Yes--such is the case,” continued Mr. Green, chuckling inwardly, though maintaining an external composure: “and amongst the most singular--the most astounding of the secrets which I have thus dragged to light, the one that I have discovered in connexion with your lordship’s family, is not the least remarkable.”

As he thus spoke, the attorney fixed his eyes upon the nobleman, who coloured deeply in spite of himself: for it naturally struck him that Green alluded to matters with which the reader is already well acquainted. The same apprehension seized upon Hatfield, Lady Georgiana, and the Countess of Ellingham; and the suspense which the lawyer’s auditory now endured, was poignant in the extreme.

“Your lordship can of course conjecture to what I allude,” continued Green; “and you, Mr. Hatfield,” he added, turning towards the invalid, “cannot possibly misunderstand me.”

Lady Georgiana rose from the seat which she had taken on entering the room, and proceeded to place herself instinctively as it were near the head of the couch, so as to be close to her husband. It was a movement which said as eloquently as if her lips had simultaneously explained it--“This man menaces evil: but I am near to console you with all the sympathy of a loving wife.”

“Mr. Green,” exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham, after a few moments’ reflection, “I appeal to you whether it will not be better that these matters at which you have glanced should be discussed privately between yourself and me. Mr. Hatfield has been ill--very ill: and it would be cruel to excite him at the moment when he is approaching convalescence.”

“I have already stated to your lordship that whatever communication I have to make must be in the presence of witnesses,” returned the implacable Green. “I presume that this lady,” he added, with a gentle inclination of his head towards the invalid’s wife, “is Lady Georgiana Hatfield?”

“You are correct, sir,” observed the lady herself, with a haughty tone and distant manner.

“And this lady is the Countess of Ellingham, doubtless?” said Green, altogether unabashed.

The beautiful Esther bowed in an affirmative reply.

“But what mean these questions, sir?” demanded the Earl, impatiently. “Surely you will not use language that may prove outrageous to the feelings of ladies who have never offended you?”

“If the truths which I am about to utter should prove so very disagreeable to hear, my lord,” responded Green, “they must be equally unpleasant to cherish in the depths of the soul. In a word, you are doubtless all too much accustomed to contemplate these truths to be liable to any startling effect when they are shaped in words and whispered to the ear.”

“This is an insolence of behaviour, sir, which I cannot--will not tolerate,” exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham. “You shall not force your way into the bosom of a family with a view to play upon their feelings with a cruelty that is as refined as it is unaccountable.”

“Very good, my lord,” returned Green, rising from his seat, and taking up his hat; “I can as easily proclaim from the head of the stairs--or in the hall of your mansion--every thing I know relative to your family, as I can talk the matter quietly over with you in this room.”

And the villain was moving towards the door, when Lord Ellingham caught him by the arm, saying, “Nay--you must not leave us thus! What object have you in view?--what use do you propose to make of the secrets which you have discovered? Speak frankly--candidly--openly: is it money that you require?”

A new idea flashed to the mind of Mr. Green, as these words fell upon his ears.

By serving Signora Barthelma he would gain a thousand guineas, half of which sum was already in his possession: he had therefore only another five hundred to receive--and it was possible that he might obtain as many thousands by striking a bargain with the nobleman and making a market of the secrets in his possession.

“Wherefore does your lordship ask me if I require money?” he demanded, by way of sounding the Earl’s intentions.

“Because I am rich enough to bribe you,” was the unhesitating response: for the nobleman had already formed a pretty accurate idea of the attorney’s character.

Green paused--reflected--and began to grow embarrassed. He knew not how to act--how much to demand--what terms to propose. Fearful of spoiling all, by carrying his extortionate views too high, he was likewise apprehensive of losing a large by agreeing to take a small amount.

The Earl guessed what was passing in his mind; and, pointing to writing materials that lay upon the table, he said, “Draw a cheque--and I will sign it.”

Mr. Green sat down, and with trembling hand wrote a draft for five thousand pounds.

Lord Ellingham glanced over it, and immediately affixed his signature to the document, inserting the names of his bankers in the corner.

“Stop!” ejaculated Mr. Hatfield, starting up in his couch: “Arthur, retain that cheque--let not the villain take it!”

And the Earl of Ellingham instantly obeyed this injunction; while Green turned, with a countenance livid through rage and disappointment, towards the invalid.

“Not one shilling shall this man extort from us!” continued Mr. Hatfield, powerfully excited. “His story is a fabrication! There are no documents in existence which can have revealed our family secrets to him. He has been sent hither by an enemy--and who that enemy is I can too well divine!”

“Yes--yes--I understand you!” cried the Earl, the name of _Perdita_ suggesting itself immediately to his memory: but at the same time he recollected that neither the Countess of Ellingham nor Lady Georgiana was acquainted with the secret of that fatal marriage which Charles had contracted.

“Vile--despicable tool that you are!” resumed Mr. Hatfield, addressing himself to the attorney: “I can see through all your conduct as if your very soul were transparent! The vengeance of an enemy sent you hither--and the demand which the Earl of Ellingham made respecting your object, was suggestive of this extortionate deed that you sought to perpetrate. Begone, sir--do your worst--we fear you not! You may reveal family matters that may cause pain--but you can do no serious injury: for if you allude to the secrets which I myself am referring to, your malignant aim is completely baffled--inasmuch as the documents that could alone corroborate your assertions, are no longer in existence. I myself destroyed them!”

And thoroughly exhausted, Mr. Hatfield sank back upon the pillow.

At this moment the door was hastily opened; and Clarence Villiers rushed into the room.

“Pardon this abrupt intrusion,” he exclaimed, not immediately noticing Green: “but I have news of some importance--though of horrible interest--to communicate. That woman Perdita, who ensnared my friend Charles with her wiles and witcheries, is no more!”

“Dead?” cried Mr. Hatfield, again starting up in the couch.

“Murdered--assassinated--and by her own husband!” ejaculated Villiers. “I was driving past Westbourne Terrace ere now--I saw a crowd--I heard appalling rumours--I enquired the cause--and I learnt the outline of the frightful tragedy! She is dead--and Barthelma, her husband, who destroyed her, has perished by his own hand!”

“Then Charles is beyond all danger for the future!” exclaimed Mr. Hatfield;--and again did he fall back on his pillow.

Lady Georgiana and the Countess of Ellingham hastened to administer restoratives to the invalid: although they themselves were greatly excited by the intelligence which had just arrived--for, it will be remembered, they were aware that Charles had fled from London with an abandoned woman who had gained a powerful ascendancy over him; and horrified as they were at the tidings of the murder, they could not help feeling that all apprehension of a relapse on the young man’s part into the meshes of the intriguing Perdita, was now suddenly removed.

While the ladies were ministering to Mr. Hatfield, Clarence Villiers had turned and recognised Green, who was standing stupefied and motionless at the sudden news which revealed to him that his fair client Perdita Barthelma had been murdered!

“Ah! Mr. Green,” exclaimed Villiers, in astonishment at beholding the attorney in the room; “what brings you hither?”

“Do you know this person, Clarence?” demanded the Earl, bending his looks with mingled indignation and abhorrence upon the man.

“I have been acquainted with him for many years----” began Villiers.

“Stop, sir!” cried the nobleman, again seizing the arm of the attorney, who was making for the door. “Before you leave us, you shall be thoroughly unmasked in the presence of a gentleman who appears to address you as a friend.”

“Let me go, my lord!” exclaimed Green, struggling to get away; for he knew that Villiers could reveal a secret which would at once place the infamy of his character beyond question: “let me go, I say--you have no right to detain me against my will!”

“You shall remain yet a few minutes!” cried the Earl, holding his arm with a strong grasp. “This villain,” continued the nobleman, turning towards Clarence, “came hither as the instrument of that woman Perdita’s vengeance! That such is the fact, I have no doubt. But in a short time he changed his character--he began to act a part for himself--he played the scoundrel on his own account--and he attempted to extort from me the sum of five thousand pounds, as the purchase-money for retaining all the secrets which Perdita could alone have revealed to him!”

“You offered me the money--and the amount was not extravagant, considering the purpose for which it was to have been given,” said Green, glancing anxiously at Clarence Villiers.

“I told you to name your own terms--and you drew up this draft,” exclaimed the Earl, exhibiting the slip of paper.

“Then, by heaven! forbearance in respect to such a man as you, is a positive crime on my part!” said Villiers, in an excited tone; and, seizing the wretched attorney by the collar, he cried, “You go not hence, Mr. Green, save in the custody of an officer, and under an accusation of forgery!”

“Forgery!” exclaimed the Earl, in amazement; and at the same time the ladies and Mr. Hatfield became interested observers of the scene that was now passing.

“Yes--forgery, my lord!” cried Villiers, still retaining his hold upon Green. “This man was left joint trustee with myself, on behalf of a youth who had a small sum bequeathed to him: the money was sold out of the funds years ago, my signature to the power of attorney being forged! That forgery was perpetrated by the villain before you. Some six months ago he replaced the money--he called upon me--he confessed the deed--he avowed his contrition--and I promised to shield him. But now, my lord--_now_, that he dares to set himself up as the persecutor of those whom I have so many reasons to esteem and revere,--_now_, that he has ventured to direct his villanies against the peace of an amiable family,--I cannot--will not--must not spare him!”

“No, Clarence--you shall keep your promise,” said the Earl; “and perhaps the man may be moved by gratitude to repentance.”

“My promise was conditional, my lord,” exclaimed Villiers: “and if he have represented it otherwise to a living soul, he has uttered a falsehood. I declared to him at the time that I would forgive him, provided he undertook to enter upon the ways of rectitude and honesty: and it is he who has now forfeited his solemn pledge to that effect! No mercy, then, for this bad--this heartless man!”

“One word!” cried Green, in a menacing tone. “Fulfil your threat, Mr. Villiers, and I will at once--without the slightest hesitation or remorse--proclaim to all the world that the man known as Mr. Hatfield--”

“Silence, villain!” thundered Clarence: “silence!--or I will strangle you!”

“No--no--you shall not coerce me! I _will_ speak out!” cried Green, struggling to disengage himself from the strong grasp in which he was held. “Mark what I say--hear me--hear me, all of you! Mr. Hatfield bears an assumed name--he is the Earl’s eldest brother--the heir to the title--aye, and also Thomas Rainford, who was hanged at Horsemonger Lane Gaol!”

A blow from the clenched fist of Villiers felled the attorney as these last words burst from his lips;--and at the same instant a wild shriek, uttered by Lady Georgiana, rang through the room. For Mr. Hatfield had sunk back upon the pillow, with a low moan and a death-like pallor of countenance;--and almost immediately afterwards, blood oozed from his mouth.

All was now confusion and dismay in the chamber of the invalid: but at this juncture, Sir John Lascelles made his appearance. A few words, hurriedly spoken by the Earl of Ellingham, conveyed to the physician an idea of what had caused the relapse of his patient; and the worthy man speedily ordered the requisite restoratives. But these were all in vain:--Mr. Hatfield had broken a blood-vessel internally--and a few minutes after the arrival of the doctor, he expired without a groan!

* * * * *

We must draw a veil over the scene of sorrow which the chamber of death presented, and which we cannot find words to describe. The intensity of that anguish was increased by the almost frantic grief of Charles Hatfield, who, having been out for several hours upon his own and his father’s business, returned but a few minutes too late to witness the sad catastrophe.

He threw himself upon the corpse of his sire--uttered the most passionate lamentations--and even pushed his mother aside when she endeavoured to console him.

But at length a reaction came; and the violence of the young man’s grief gave way to a profound sorrow,--a sorrow that was deeply, deeply shared by many other hearts!

In the confusion that had taken place when Lady Georgiana’s scream echoed through the room, denoting the occurrence of something dreadful,--Green had risen from the floor and made his escape, inwardly cursing himself for having undertaken to become the agent of Perdita’s vengeance.

But Villiers, who entertained the most sincere friendship for Mr. Hatfield, and who was goaded almost to madness by the conduct of the vile attorney towards the man whom he thus loved as a brother, vowed that such infamy should not go unpunished. Scarcely, therefore, had the terrible conviction burst upon all present in the chamber of death, that Mr. Hatfield was indeed no more, when Villiers rushed franticly in pursuit of him whom he looked upon as the murderer!

The chase was successful--and in less than half an hour, Green was in custody on a charge of forgery!

CONCLUSION.

Our narrative is about to close: but ere we lay aside the pen, a few observations are requisite in order to render the history of each prominent character as complete as possible. Several have already been disposed of: but there yet remain many in whose fate the reader may feel more or less interested; and we accordingly proceed to sum up in a few words all the particulars which are wanting to the faithful accomplishment of our task.

Mr. Green in due time figured at the Old Bailey, where Clarence Villiers appeared to prosecute him for forgery; but the prisoner pleaded guilty in order to obtain the merciful consideration of the court, and was sentenced to transportation for seven years, instead of for the term of his natural life. Preparatory, however, to his expatriation, he was lodged in one of the convict-hulks at Woolwich; and there he encountered his friend Jack Rily the Doctor, who, instead of consoling the wretched attorney, only laughed at him for the tears which he shed and the useless repinings to which he gave vent. Mr. Green is at this present moment occupied in the healthy but disagreeable task of repairing the high roads in Van Diemen’s Land, in company with some of the greatest scoundrels that ever disgraced the human species; and he even looks back with bitter regret to those times when he was the oppressed, crushed, and despised instrument of James Heathcote. Nor was it a source of solace to Mr. Green when one fine morning, about ten months ago, he recognised the Doctor in a new-comer who was thus added to the gang of convicts: for Mr. Rily, having endeavoured to stir up his brethren in the Woolwich hulk to rebellion, was discovered in the attempt and forthwith packed off to the island which Nature had in the origin made a terrestrial paradise, but which the English Government has converted into “a den of thieves.”

James Heathcote, being utterly ruined by the transfer of all his property for the benefit of the numerous clients whom he had robbed,--for this affair was completely carried out by Green’s head clerk,--was compelled to abandon his fine house and take a humble office where he strove hard to reconstruct his once extensive business. But the exposure which his character had received in the Court of Queen’s Bench, proved a fatal blow to his prospects and an insurmountable obstacle in his path; and at the end of six months, being unable to pay his rent, he was turned out of the little nook to which he had retired, and plunged into the deepest poverty. At this juncture his brother Sir Gilbert returned to England; and James wrote him a penitential letter, imploring his succour. The baronet refused to see him, but generously undertook to allow him two guineas a-week in order to keep him from starving; and on this pittance--for such it is in comparison with the wealth he once possessed--the broken-down, baffled, and dispirited man still subsists in some suburb of the metropolis.

The Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks has experienced many ups and downs since we last saw him at the lunatic asylum in Bethnal Green. It appears that one evening Dr. Swinton gave a grand supper to the relatives and friends of his pensioners, who were present on the occasion as usual; and that previously to the repast being served up, the Doctor had been holding forth in a highly eulogistic style upon the excellent qualities, Christian virtues, and profound piety of his chaplain. Now the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks was out at the time, the Doctor both declaring and believing that “the good man had gone to pay his usual evening visits to the poor in the neighbourhood;” and the guests were all very anxious for the return of the worthy individual who possessed such numerous claims upon their esteem, veneration, and respect. But the truth was--and the truth _must_ be told--that the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks, instead of visiting the poor or even dreaming of such a thing, was smoking his pipe and drinking his gin-and-water at the _Cat and the Fiddle_ in Globe Town; and as he happened to take an extra pipe and two extra glasses on this particular occasion, the fumes thereof became more potent than the odour of sanctity. The consequence was that on his return to the lunatic asylum, his walk was so unsteady and irregular that his progress up the gravel walk to the front door resembled that of a ship tacking about in the Channel; and when he entered the supper-room, just as the company were sitting down to the well-spread table, his nose was so red, his cheeks were so flushed, and his eyes so vacant and watery, that the Doctor inquired in a tone of bland anxiety if he were unwell? “No, sir--I am quite well--and I am all right!” was the somewhat savage answer.--“Then will you have the kindness to ask a blessing, Mr. Sheepshanks?” said the Doctor.--“No, sir,” responded the pious gentleman: “I will see you and the blessing at the devil first. You’re drunk, sir--and I’m ashamed of you.”--It would be impossible to describe the dismay--we might almost term it horrified amazement--which this peremptory refusal to say grace, and the scandalous attack upon Dr. Swinton’s sobriety, produced amongst the guests. The physician himself started up in a furious rage, forgetful of all his propriety; and applying his right foot to the proper quarter, he kicked the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks ignominiously forth from the lunatic asylum. On the following morning this pious gentleman, who was endowed with so many Christian virtues, awoke in a station-house to a sense of his altered position; but when introduced to the notice of a magistrate for being “drunk and disorderly, and kicking up a row at Dr. Swinton’s door,” he boldly proclaimed himself a martyr, and held forth at great length, and in a peculiar nasal drone, on the vanities of this world. The magistrate was, however, compelled to cut him short, by inflicting a fine: but as Mr. Sheepshanks had exhausted all his pecuniary resources at the _Cat and the Fiddle_ on the preceding evening, he was doomed to extend his experience of worldly vanities beneath the roof of the House of Correction. There he found that the treadmill was one of the most uncomfortable vanities he had ever yet encountered; and the redness of his nose was considerably subdued by the prison skilly. On his emancipation at the end of a week, he took up his abode at the house of a poor widow with whom he was acquainted, and whom he induced to convert her front-parlour into a receptacle for prayer-meetings. This succeeded very well for a few months, the congregation being delighted with Mr. Sheepshanks’ discourse, and a tolerable amount of pence being collected every evening in furtherance of the pious gentleman’s holy purpose of supplying the benighted Esquimaux with flannel-jackets and religious tracts: but the widow proving at length to be in the family-way, and Mr. Sheepshanks not choosing to wait to have the paternity of the expected offspring fixed upon his reverend shoulders, his sudden evaporation from the neighbourhood led to the break-up of the prayer-meetings and the total ruin of the unfortunate woman. What became of Mr. Sheepshanks for the next six months, we cannot say: but one fine Sunday morning he turned up at the Obelisk in St. George’s Fields, where he addressed a crowd in his usual strain. His discourse was however suddenly cut short by the presence of the poor widow, who, wrapped in rags and with a baby in her arms, was begging in that neighbourhood; and when the reverend gentleman’s delinquencies were proclaimed by the miserable woman, he was hooted, pelted, and maltreated all up the Westminster-road, until he managed to escape from his assailants by diving into one of the narrow streets leading out of that great thoroughfare. After this affair, the pious man again disappeared for a season; and when we last heard of him, he had given up preaching as a trade which he had thoroughly worn out, and had betaken himself to the highly respectable and cheering avocation of beating the drum and playing the month-organ--_alias_ pandean pipes--for a colleague who exhibited a Punch and Judy show.

We must now direct attention to Captain O’Blunderbuss and Mr. Frank Curtis. Upon the strength of the handsome pecuniary present made to them by Lord William Trevelyan, the former forthwith dubbed himself _Major_; and for the first six weeks after this self-bestowed elevation, he was under the disagreeable necessity of thrashing his bosom friend soundly at least once a day for being oblivious of the new rank and calling him _Captain_. At length he succeeded in completely beating into the head of Frank Curtis that he was really a Major; and when they were seated together of an evening over their whisky-and-water, at some public-house, the gallant Irishman never failed to recount to his companion all the military services he had rendered the State, and all the splendours of his paternal mansion of Blunderbuss Park, Connemara. These statements, though ostensibly addressed to Mr. Frank Curtis, were really intended for the behoof of the frequenters of the parlours where they were enunciated; and the quiet tradesmen into whose ears the flaming narratives were thus dinned, ended by being particularly proud of the acquaintance of Major Gorman O’Blunderbuss. At length, what with succulent dinners at eating-houses and oceans of “potheen” every evening, the sum so liberally given by Lord William Trevelyan came to a termination; and the two friends were one day holding a council of war--or rather sitting in “committee of ways and means”--when a paragraph in the newspaper informed them that Lady Blunt and her son had been upset in a boat during an aquatic excursion at Richmond, and drowned “in spite of all the efforts made by the footman to save them.” Up jumped both the Major and Frank Curtis in ectasies of joy, dissolving themselves as a committee then and there by kicking over the table; and away they sped to the mansion in Jermyn Street. The Intelligence was true: Lady Blunt and her son were no more;--and the stout footman was disconsolate. There was no will; and Frank Curtis accordingly found himself, as if by magic, the heir-at-law to all those possessions from which his uncle had sought to exclude him years ago. The day on which the remains of the deceased lady and her son were consigned to the tomb, was the happiest that Major O’Blunderbuss and his friend had ever passed in their lives: for the gallant officer resolved to make a regular Irish wake of it, and the good “potheen” circulated so rapidly that the assembled mourners alarmed the whole street with their noise and laughter. And a most refreshing spectacle was it when Major O’Blunderbuss, with a view to enhance the hilarity of the scene, kicked the stout footman completely out of the house and tossed his clothes and wages ignominiously from the window. In the course of a few days the two friends paid a visit to Mr. Strongitharms, the celebrated engraver in St. James’s Street, for the purpose of having their cards printed with their armorial bearings on the top; and when Frank blandly directed the shopman who took the order to write down in his book the names of _Mr. Curtis_ and _Major O’Bluntherbuss_, the latter exclaimed in a tone of mingled indignation and disgust, “Be Jasus! Frank, and your mimory grows worse and worse ivery day: for, be the holy poker-r! and isn’t it _Colonel O’Bluntherbuss_ that I am, the new rank being conferred upon me by her Gracious Majesty for my services in the East Indies?”--The shopman wrote down _Colonel O’Blunderbuss_ accordingly; and as a colonel is the gallant gentleman known at the present day. Reader, if you happen to be passing along Jermyn Street any time in the evening after five o’clock, you will hear such shouts of laughter and peals of merriment issuing from one of the houses, that there can be no mistake as to the identity of that dwelling. We need not tell you the number of the mansion, because you cannot fail to discover where Colonel O’Blunderbuss and Mr. Curtis reside by means of the uproarious sounds that emanate from the front-parlour, in spite of the closed shutters and heavy draperies. And to tell you the truth, the neighbours look upon that house as a complete nuisance; and rents are falling rapidly in the immediate neighbourhood--for quiet old bachelor-gentlemen, families, and even young blades about town, are frightened away from the lodgings that are let in the three or four nearest tenements on either side of the one where the two friends have settled themselves. But these worthies care nothing for the opinion of their neighbours and are deaf to all remonstrances: they lead a jolly life after their own hearts and in their own peculiar fashion--and to witness them in their happy domesticity, a stranger unacquainted with their history could not tell that the house and the fortune both belonged to Frank Curtis, for the Colonel is as much master of both dwelling and purse as his devoted friend.

Although Rosalie, the French lady’s-maid, has not performed a very conspicuous part on the stage of our narrative, we are nevertheless induced to trace her career up to the present time. Compelled to appear as a witness at the Coroner’s Inquest which was holden upon her late master and mistress, she attracted the notice of a young baronet who attended the proceedings through motives of curiosity: and as the overtures which he subsequently made her, were far from displeasing, she accepted them after a due amount of affected hesitation. The baronet was rich, and provided in a sumptuous manner for his mistress. He hired and furnished a house for her accommodation in a fashionable street at the West End--bought her a brougham and pair of handsome bays--took for her use a box at the Opera--and allowed her fifty guineas a month for her domestic expenses. In return for this generosity, she treated him with a capriciousness that would have been intolerable on the part of a sensible man, but which only confirmed the insensate spendthrift’s infatuation. Rosalie’s conduct was a matter of calculation, and not the unavoidable result of a wilful disposition. She knew that she had only to be kind and winning, in order to coax him into any extravagant expenditure which would minister to her enjoyments; and her smiles were thus literally purchased with gold and diamonds. Six months only did the baronet’s fortune stand this wanton devastation; and when he could no longer draw cheques for the sums which she required, she at once accepted the “protection” of an old nobleman who made her very handsome offers, and who was in his dotage. But now mark the wayward inconsistency of this woman’s conduct! The moment she ceased to be dependent upon the baronet, she conceived a violent affection for him--was never happy save when in his society--bestowed upon him two-thirds of the money which she received from the ancient peer--and even stinted herself to supply his extravagances. She never treated him with the slightest indication of caprice--but served him as if she were a purchased slave, and he a Pacha. He gave way to intemperance, and in his drunken freaks would beat and ill-use her. She endured it all without a murmur, so long as he would _forgive_ her when he was sober! At length the old nobleman died one day of indigestion--and Rosalie passed into the keeping of a Bishop. The Right Reverend Father was one of the most staunch supporters of all measures for the better observance of the Sabbath. He hated Sunday trading as something a shade or two worse than wilful murder--and no one declaimed more eloquently than he against the steam-boats plying on the Lord’s Day. He even wished to prevent the railway-trains from running on the Sabbath; and his heart rejoiced when he read in the newspapers that apple-women, orange-girls, and shrimp-boys had been taken into custody for attempting to earn a penny to buy a meal on the “day of rest.” But every Sunday evening this respectable old prelate made it a rule to dine with his mistress--aye, and remain with her too until past twelve at night; and heaven only knows what lying excuses he made to his wife for these intervals of absence. He was, however, far more stingy towards Rosalie than the deceased nobleman; and she accordingly cut him in favour of his Archdeacon, who was as unmitigated an old sinner as himself. Meantime the baronet continued to be the young woman’s real favourite; and when he happened to find himself locked up in the Queen’s Bench Prison, she never failed to visit him every day. Her diamonds--her jewels--her rings--her very watch she pawned to raise the sum necessary to procure his release; although the more his temper grew soured by adversity, the more brutal became his conduct towards her. From the keeping of the Archdeacon, she passed into that of a wealthy tradesman who had a splendid establishment in Regent Street. He likewise had a wife and six children; but he neglected them for the sake of his mistress--and while he grudged the former even common necessaries, he lavished all his gains upon the latter. At length he learnt that Rosalie was constantly visited by the baronet; and he broke off the connexion. No admirer immediately appearing to supply his place, the Frenchwoman wrote a very pretty letter to the Bishop, complimenting him upon his last speech against Sunday-trading, and declaring how much pleasure she should experience if he would honour her with a visit. The invitation was irresistible--the prelate went--and the result was that Rosalie once more became his mistress. The renewal of their connexion has not since been interrupted; and the baronet is still the object of the young woman’s affection--still the recipient of two-thirds of all the money she can obtain--and still the only person in the world who would dare to raise his hand against her.

For nearly a year after his attempted suicide, the Marquis of Delmour lived happily with his wife, the past being buried in oblivion. Lady Delmour devoted herself to her husband as far as her own blighted and crushed affections would permit; and she at least had the supreme felicity of witnessing the unalloyed happiness which was experienced by Lord William Trevelyan and the lovely Agnes, who were united about six months after the reconciliation of the young lady’s parents, the consent of the Lord Chancellor being obtained to sanction the marriage. But in the summer of 1847 the Marquis of Delmour was seized with a sudden and alarming illness; and in spite of the unwearied attentions of Sir John Lascelles and Lady Delmour, the old nobleman succumbed to the tyrant sway of Death. Upwards of a year has elapsed since that event; and we observe by a recent paragraph in the newspapers that the Marchioness has bestowed her hand upon Sir Gilbert Heathcote.

Lord William Trevelyan and Agnes are as happy as mortals can hope to be on earth. Their mode of life is somewhat secluded--for it is in each other’s society that their enjoyment of existence consists. Their charity is unbounded, but bestowed privately and unostentatiously; and although you will never hear the name of Lord William Trevelyan proclaimed from the platform of Exeter Hall, amidst a list of liberal subscribers to Missionary Societies and other legalised swindles and robberies of the same class, yet rest assured that many and many a poor family has reason to bless that good nobleman and his amiable wife.

Timothy Splint, _alias_ Tim the Snammer, continues the occupant of a fine farm in the backwoods of the United States: indeed, the property has spread out to an extent which renders the denomination of “estate” the more correct one. Joshua Pedlar and his wife have prospered equally well in Canada; and they are now in possession of a large mercantile establishment at Quebec. Mrs. Bunce is dead: but her husband still resides at Saint Peter’s Port in Guernsey, and earns a very comfortable livelihood. Jeffreys leads a steady, industrious life at Liverpool, where he has became a substantial merchant, and is deservedly respected. Had all these persons been consigned to the horrors of transportation to a penal colony, their redemption from sin would have become an impossibility: but when placed in a condition to earn an honourable independence, even _murderers_ may be put to a better use than hanging them like dogs, or sending them into the midst of a vile community where their example would only produce a deeper demoralisation.

Poor Mr. Bubbleton Styles, having failed in getting up his Railway Company, was compelled to pass through the Insolvents’ Court; and during the eighteen months which have elapsed since that event, he has turned his attention to at least a dozen different occupations. On his discharge from the process of white-washing in Portugal Street, he became a wine-merchant: but finding that this market was completely glutted, he entered the coal and coke trade--with may be a little dealing in slates as a necessary adjunct thereto. This speculation not succeeding “for want of capital,” Mr. Styles turned drysalter--then town-traveller for an ale-brewer--then commission-agent for a house in the woollen line--and then something else. But none of these occupations answering his purpose, and hearing of the good luck which had befallen his friends O’Blunderbuss and Curtis, he put on his last clean shirt and paid them a visit. His reception was not at first very encouraging, inasmuch as the gallant Irishman commenced by knocking him down and bunging up his right eye, for the simple reason that Mr. Styles was unaware of that formidable gentleman’s elevation to the rank of _Colonel_, and had called him _Captain_: but when explanations took place, complete harmony was restored; and the worthy Bubbleton, having been made uncommonly drunk by his two friends, received a cheque for a hundred guineas to enable him to begin the world again. He has made the recommencement accordingly, and seems in a fair way to get a living by adhering to one particular occupation instead of having a hundred upon his hands at the same time.

Clarence Villiers and Adelais continue to reside at Brompton. They are well off in a pecuniary point of view; and though the ardent love of their youth has mellowed down into a deep attachment, still are they as happy in each other’s society as they were in those days when the marriage-state was as yet new with them. And often and often, when seated together of an evening, do they speak with never-failing gratitude and regret of poor Tom Rain!

Our readers will doubtless recollect the manuscript which Lord William Trevelyan discovered at the lunatic-asylum in Bethnal Green, and which recorded the experiences of a victim to that detestable system of quackery which the law allows. We may as well observe that in the course of a short tour which the young nobleman and his wife took to the south of France, a few months back, Trevelyan encountered Mr. Macdonald, the author of that lamentable history. This gentleman had completely recovered his mental equilibrium, and was living in a strict but happy seclusion with his Editha and their son. Trevelyan communicated to him the circumstances under which he had found the manuscript, and the motives which had induced him to convey it away from its place of concealment in the mad-house. Macdonald expressed his fervent gratitude for the young nobleman’s generosity; and the papers were consigned to the flames. We will not mention the name of the town where Mr. Macdonald is residing: for, were we guilty of such imprudence, the extortioner would be assuredly sent after him.

We have now to speak of the inmates of Ellingham House. Reader, the family circle there is as happy as the mournful reminiscence of Mr. Hatfield’s sudden death will permit. Charles has become the husband of the beautiful and accomplished Lady Frances; and the youthful pair continue to dwell at the Earl’s mansion. Lady Georgiana is likewise a permanent resident beneath the same roof; and her son amply repays her by his affectionate devotion for any temporary uneasiness or grief which he might have caused her at the lamentable period of his connexion with Perdita. Sir John Lascelles is a frequent visitor at the mansion in Pall Mall; and we need scarcely add that he is always a welcome guest.

The Republic of Castelcicala flourishes under the free institutions which General Markham gave it. It is the Model-State in Europe; and appears to be the solution of a problem whether it is possible for honest rulers, a conscientious legislature, and a democratic system to extirpate poverty from a country, and make an entire people contented, free, and prosperous. There the Rights of Labour are recognised in all the plenitude of industry’s claims: there no man who is willing to work, can possibly starve. Mendicity is unknown throughout the Republic; and when the Castelcicalans read paragraphs translated from the English papers into their own prints, and detailing how men, women, and children _die of starvation_--aye, and very frequently too--in the British Islands, they say to each other, “It is a hideous mockery to pretend that true freedom has any existence _there_!”

But, thank God! the tide of liberal sentiments is rolling rapidly over Europe--sweeping away the remnants of feudal barbarism--levelling all oppressive institutions--compelling tyrants to bend to the will of the masses--and giving such an impulse to enlightened notions as the world never saw before. And may that tide still flow on with unabating force--not wearing off the asperities of barbaric systems by degrees, but whirling all abuses away at once and in a moment;--not proceeding without certainty or uniformity, like a stream that is sometimes free and sometimes checked--but rushing on in a channel that is broad and deep;--not here diverted from its course by some obstacle--nor there dammed up until the weight of its waters break down the impediment,--but rolling on with a mighty and irresistible volume, and expanding into a glorious and illimitable flood!

THE END.

[ADVERTISEMENT.]

The Proprietor of the “MYSTERIES OF LONDON,” having, at present, an opportunity of carrying out his original design--viz. that of presenting the public with faithful and unexaggerated sketches of every class of society forming the “world of London,” has determined upon submitting to his readers a NEW SERIES of the “MYSTERIES OF LONDON,” and which will be from the pen of a writer of the most eminent reputation,

THOMAS MILLER, ESQ.,

AUTHOR OF “ROYSTON GOWER;” “FAIR ROSAMOND;” “LADY JANE GREY;” “GODFREY MALVERN;” “PICTURES OF COUNTRY LIFE;” “RURAL SKETCHES;” “BEAUTIES OF THE COUNTRY;” “A DAY IN THE WOODS;” “THE POETICAL LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS;” “THE BOY’S YEAR BOOK;” POEMS, ETC. ETC.

This NEW SERIES will be entitled “MYSTERIES OF LONDON; OR, LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE.”

THE FIRST NUMBER WILL APPEAR ON WEDNESDAY, 20th SEPTEMBER.

London: WALTER SULLY, Printer, “Bonner House,” Seacoal Lane.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See the First Series of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.”

[2] See Chapter LIX.

[3] See Chapter LXIV.

[4] See last paragraph of Chapter LXV.

[5] See Chapter LXXIX.

[6] This was when Rainford quitted the packet-ship at Guernsey, and commenced his career as the Blackamoor.

[7] See first paragraph, second column, page 28, of this Volume of the Second Series.

[8] “An obscure threepenny print, called the _Daily News_, published in its impression of November 2nd, an article purporting to be a notice of the leading works belonging to the sphere of Cheap Literature, but in which a vile, cowardly, and ruffian-like attack was made upon Mrs. Reynolds’s novel of ‘GRETNA GREEN.’ The article alluded to appeared in the evening of the same date in the _Express_, a paper made up from the contents of the other, but of whose existence we were totally unaware until the occurrence of the matter in question. The attack, though evidently written by some silly boy, was so savage and malignant, and was made up of such a pack of atrocious lies, that it became necessary to take some kind of notice of it, although neither the _Daily News_ nor its evening reflex enjoy a circulation or an influence sufficient to effect the amount of mischief which the dastardly scribe sought to accomplish. Our solicitors were accordingly instructed to write to the Editors of the _News_ and _Express_, requiring a complete contradiction to the libel, or menacing an action as the alternative. The letter which our legal advisers despatched was a gentlemanly and talented remonstrance, which soon brought the stupid Editors of the _Daily News_ and the _Express_ to reason. Bradbury and Evans, the proprietors of those threepenny prints, shook in their shoes at the idea of an action, they already having enough law business on their hands in consequence of their treatment of Messrs. Powell and Wareing:--and, accordingly, the _News_ and _Express_ ate their own words, on Tuesday, Nov. 9th, in the following terms:--

“‘We have received a letter, protesting against Mrs. S. F. Reynolds’ work of “GRETNA GREEN” being included in that list of popular works described as marked by “looseness, warmth of colouring in criminal scenes, and the false glow cast around guilty indulgencies.” We must admit that “GRETNA GREEN” does not merit this; and that, whatever its faults it certainly contains nothing derogatory to the character or delicacy of a lady writer.’

“Now let our readers mark well the atrocity of the proceeding on the part of the _News_ and the _Express_. They first denounce ‘GRETNA GREEN’ in the strongest terms: they are afterwards compelled, _by the fear of law proceedings_, to ’admit that “GRETNA GREEN” does not merit this, and that it contains nothing derogatory to the character or delicacy of a lady writer.’ Then how dared the wretched scribe to act such a miscreant’s part as to accuse a lady of writing with ’looseness,’ when he must have known the charge to be unfounded? He told a downright, deliberate, wilful lie: he has proclaimed himself, and likewise admitted himself to be, an abominable liar! And as such we denounce him.

“But of what value can criticisms of the _News_ and _Express_ be, when a contemptible scribe is thus allowed to make the columns of these prints the vehicle for his own beastly malignity? What authority can belong to a reviewer who is obliged to say on the 9th of November, ‘I was guilty of a foul, cowardly, and unjustifiable calumny against a lady’s character on the 2nd of November.’ And these two papers belong to men who are so very particular that they turned off their sub--editors. Messrs. Powell and Wareing, because, forsooth, these gentlemen gave insertion to a particular bankruptcy case which the bankrupt himself had written to implore Bradbury and Evans _not_ to publish!

“We hope the contemptible slanderer who ‘does the criticisms’ for the _News_ and _Express_ will treat his readers (two grown-up persons and a small boy for the _News_, and the small boy without the grown-up persons for the _Express_) with an account of the origin, progress, and present condition of those threepenny things. If so, he must state how the _News_ first came out at five-pence with the intention of smashing every thing,--how Charles Dickens was the man entrusted with the obstetric process of introducing this phenomenon to the world,--how froth was never so frothy, and vapouring never so vapoury, as when the bills, placards, and advertisements appeared,--and how the mountain at last brought forth a mouse! In fact, no failure was ever more miserable--more ludicrous--more contemptible than that of the _Daily News_. When a friend once spoke of his uppermost garment to Brummell, the ‘exquisite,’ laying his finger upon the collar thereof, said, ‘Do you call this thing a coat?’--and when the _News_ first came out, people held it up between the tips of their forefinger and thumb, and asked each other innocently, ‘Do you call this thing a newspaper?’ Well, after continuing remarkably sickly for some time, and seeing the utter folly of hoping to compete with the established daily newspapers, Bradbury and Evans--dear, kind, worthy souls!--said one morning to each other, ‘This will never do: the public will not be gulled--we must really sell our wares at what they are worth;’--and so down went the price of the _News_ to twopence-halfpenny! ‘Hurrah for the _cheap_ newspaper press!’ vociferated they who now affect to look down with contempt on cheap literature altogether: and forthwith they fetch Mr. Dilk all the way from the _Athenæum_ office in Wellington Street to manage their paper for them. And such management as it has been! Mr. Dilk knows about as much of newspapers in general as he does of courtesy in the _Athenæum_ in particular;--and Bradbury and Evans very soon found that a twopenny-halfpenny daily thing was ‘no go.’ The price is accordingly raised to threepence; and, just to eke out by hook and by crook, the _Express_ is issued as an evening paper, its contents being precisely those of the _News_, with perhaps half-a-dozen lines of new matter just to make a show under the head of ‘Latest Intelligence.’ Thus has the _Daily News_ been tinkered about in all shapes and ways, with the hope of establishing it on some kind of basis or another;--and, after such a career, it fancies itself to be respectable and influential enough to undertake the duties of Mentor! But it has entrusted the office to a disgusting twaddler who scruples not to season his mawkish composition with diabolical lies, as a make-shift for ‘Attic salt.’ However, enough of this for the present:--we have compelled the _News_ and the _Express_ to acknowledge themselves to be slanderers;--but we are afraid that after all they have got the better of us, inasmuch as they probably provoked us only for the purpose of obtaining _a gratuitous advertisement_ through the medium of any reply which might be made to them in THE MISCELLANY.”--_Reynolds’s Miscellany, No. 56._

[9] The readers of the First Series of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON” will recollect the character of Lady Adeline Enfield in the “History of an Unfortunate Woman.” Lady Caroline Jerningham is drawn expressly in contrast with that heroine,--one of the objects of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON” being to depict the good and the bad--the generous and the selfish--of all classes of society.

[10] Fact.

[11] Fact. This incident shows how the Ministers of the Established Church will at times unscrupulously set the laws of the land at defiance.

[12] Equivalent to “Miss” in English.

[13] The Industrious classes in Great Britain should take into their serious consideration the ensuing plan, which the operatives in France have submitted to the Provisional Government. The basis of a similar scheme might be established in London; and there are doubtless many persons, possessing the intelligence required for the initiative of the grand work, who would devote a few hours per week, without fee or reward, to the foundation of so glorious an institution. The plan alluded to is conceived as follows; but we have substituted the equivalent sums of English money for the French coins specified in the original document;--

“Petition for a bill to establish a National Pension Fund for every workman that has attained the age of fifty-five years.

“Every citizen of the two sexes from seventeen to fifty-five years of age shall be bound to pay each day one farthing, or 7½_d._ per month, or 7_s._ 6_d._ per annum; every town or village shall be bound to pay for the totality of its inhabitants.

“Every workman employing workmen or servants is bound to keep back this amount from their wages, and is to be considered responsible therefore.

“Every father of a family who is unfortunate, and has several mouths to support, shall be _de jure_ exempted from paying his annual quota until such time as his family shall be able to work.

“Are excluded from the advantages of the pension-fund all persons having a revenue above 32_l._ a year; the most severe laws to be made against such persons as should rob the money of the poor.

“A scale of pension is to be fixed, giving 20_l._ a year at 55 years, 28_l._ at 65 years, and 44_l._ at 75 years.

“The pension-fund is to be for all citizens: thus bankers, notaries, advocates, in a word, all persons who may have been favoured by fortune all their life-time, will have as much right to it, if they become unfortunate, as the workman who all his life-time has known only labour and privation.

“What workman is there who cannot save 1¾d. per week? Who is there that would not blush to receive alms when age shall have weakened his strength and courage?

“The pension which he will receive will be the economy of his whole life; and if he throws a glance backwards, it will be to bless the progress of civilisation.

“The day on which this law will pass, the payment of the pension may commence; since from the age of 17 to 55 all citizens will contribute to the common stock; and since the funds, in place of being capitalised, will be distributed every year. During 15 years the State will have little to add in order to complete the pensions, but after that period it will every year have some sacrifice to make. Let, during the fifteen years, the money hitherto spent on royalty be capitalised. Let the resources of the Civil List be added to them, and the sum will be more than sufficient. If fears are entertained not to obtain a sum sufficient to pay all the pensions, let the diamonds of the crown be sold. The most glorious crown of a government aught to be the happiness of the people.”

[14] Witness the noble conduct of the Parisian operatives, as described in the following extract from the _Constitutional_ newspaper:--

“We have already stated that by the care of the Minister of the Interior prompt measures had been taken to ensure the preservation of the furniture and other articles of value at the Tuileries. The following are some further details:--The citizen Chalon d’Argé, one of the special commissaries appointed by the minister, after having concerted with Captain St. Amand, commandant of the Tuileries, proceeded to an inventory of the jewels, objects of art, &c., found there. These gentlemen soon ascertained that the people had respected the various articles scattered about. The apartment of the Duke de Nemours had alone been thrown into disorder, but nothing was taken away. The apartments of the other members of the royal family remained intact. Not a picture was touched in the saloons of the late Duke of Orleans, containing, as they did, a celebrated collection. The most valuable pictures were taken to the Louvre, under the direction of M. Mérinée. A great quantity of coined money was found in the different apartments; a man of the people conceived the idea of throwing all this money into a baignoire, over which he placed a coverlet, so as to give it the appearance of a couch. He then placed himself on it, and waited in that position until some persons came up who could save the treasure which he had collected. To give an idea of the wealth thus preserved, we may state that on Saturday alone four fourgons, and on Sunday two others, transported to the Treasury masses of silver plate, as well as coffers containing the diamonds of the ex-princesses. In these fourgons there was property to the amount of several millions. The same people which had contributed to save these valuable articles helped to pack them up, and escorted them to the national Treasury. It was a touching sight to behold these hard hands taking up with the greatest precautions diamonds, necklaces, jewels of all kinds. It is useless to say that not an article in the inventory was missing. When M. Bastide and M. Bixio, who had been entrusted by the Provisional Government to take charge of the jewels and other valuable property left behind in the Tuileries, and which had been collected and packed up by men of the people, and an inventory taken of them under the superintendence of a student of the Polytechnic School, and a National Guard, the Government commissioners found the chests, trunks, and other packages in which they had been placed, under the charge of some of the people who had been employed in collecting them. When the whole were removed, one of the men went up to M. Bastide, and said, ‘_Sir, we have been forgotten since yesterday. It is now twelve o’clock, and we have not yet anything to eat. Can you order me some bread?_ All present were deeply affected by this proof of disinterested fidelity to men, resisting the temptation of property at their command greater in value than any they had ever before seen, and demanding a piece of bread as their only reward. M. Bastide repeatedly urged the man who spoke to him to give his name, but he constantly refused, saying--‘_We want nothing more. We can earn our food by our labour. To-morrow we shall return to work, and to-day ask only for the bread we have been unable to obtain._’ They were then fed, and took their departure with the same resolution.”

[15] At the “monster meeting” in Trafalgar-square, on Monday, March 6th, we were called upon to preside in the absence of Mr. Cochrane. The _London Telegraph_ contained the ensuing sketch or outline of the speech which we delivered on that occasion, and which we now transfer to the pages of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON” simply for the purpose of convincing our readers that we are not afraid to proclaim in all possible ways the opinions which we have for years promulgated through the medium of our writings:--

“Mr. Reynolds rose, and, suggesting that the parties present should form a meeting to congratulate the Parisians on their recent triumph, addressed the meeting. He had been voted to preside at this assembly, in the absence of Mr. Cochrane. Where that gentleman was, he could not say. His conduct was, at least, extraordinary, in convening a meeting which he neglected to attend. He (Mr. Reynolds) must beg of the meeting to be orderly; it was moral force which would gain their ends for them. Let them, therefore, show that, though met to demand their rights, they knew how to conduct themselves. The French revolution was a glorious triumph of public feeling. The French had recognised the rights of the working-classes. What the people of this country wanted was, that every man who was willing to work and fit for work should have work to do. (Loud cheers.) The working-classes only wanted fair wages. They were willing to give the fair value of labour for them. (Hear.) The right of labour had been recognised in France; and the rights of labour must be recognised in England. Let them not take the leading articles of aristocratic newspapers as the public voice; but let them listen to the shout which they would now hear from thousands of people met to express their adhesion to the principles of liberty. (Loud cheers). This meeting had been called to oppose the income-tax. Let them show by their cheers that they were opposed to all oppressive taxation. But let them be peaceable. Let there be no disturbance. Let them show the police and the Government-spies in plain clothes, that the working-classes of England could conduct themselves in a quiet orderly manner when met to discuss their wrongs. Mr. Reynolds sat down amidst the most vociferous cheering.”

In the evening of the same day we attended another “monster meeting” held on Clerkenwell Green, on which occasion the following outline of the speech which we delivered was given by the _London Telegraph_ and other newspapers:--

“Mr. Reynolds, the well-known author, next spoke at some length. He drew attention to the meeting which had taken place that day in Trafalgar-square, and commented on the aggressive conduct of the police. The time, he also contended, was come, when they ought no longer to mince matters. (Cheers.) The people of France had really done their duty, and it now remained with the people of this country to do the same. They were bound to demand their rights by every moral means; and if they were forced to have recourse to bloodshed, their oppressors would have to account for the result, not themselves. (Cheers.) He rejoiced at the exhibition of feeling that had taken place in France. (Cheers.) The people had raised a man to power, who had turned round and sought, by a large array of armed forces, to crush them. (Groans.) They, however, he rejoiced to find, gave him his deserts, and hurled him from his throne. (Cheers.) He was now in this country--an exiled villain. (Cheers.) Far, indeed, was it from him (the speaker) to wish that the tyrant should be molested or disturbed while suffering in a foreign land the pangs of remorse. No; he wished him to remain harmless and in insignificance. (Hear, hear.) But he did not see why the gallant and noble people of France were to be insulted by the feelings of sympathy which Her Majesty and some other personages were exhibiting towards the exiled tyrant (Hear.) He complained of this, and particularly that the people of England should be identified with the anti-liberal opinions of those persons. (Hear, hear.) What, if the gallant people of France were to be so exasperated as to declare war against this country, would the hard-working people of England, Scotland, and Ireland consent to be war-taxed became of the caprice of a number of individuals--(no, no)--who, while wallowing in luxury, had no sympathy whatever with the masses of their fellow-creatures suffering from sickness and starvation? Mr. Reynolds, at some length, very ably and forcibly dwelt on the evils of class-legislation, and showed, from his writings, that he had ever been the friend of the working-men. He concluded, amidst much cheering, by proposing the first resolution.”

[16] Letting the thieves know that he was aware of the fact of the robbery, and demanding a portion for himself. This is a common practice amongst thieves; and the claim of the person thus “declaring on” is seldom disputed, even though he had nothing to do with the robbery.

[17] Share of the plunder.

[18] This mighty warrior _ran away_ from London when danger was apprehended in consequence of the glorious democratic meeting of 250,000 enlightened working men, at Kennington Common, on the 10th of April, 1848.

[19] The memorable day of the 10th of April, 1848.

[20] With deep sorrow and indignation we have frequently noticed blackguard boys and dirty vagabonds insult private soldiers in the streets. Nothing can be more reprehensible than such conduct as this; but we are sure that the British soldier is too enlightened and too generous-hearted to suppose that any respectable working-man would treat him with indignity. There is and ought to be a deep sympathy between the military and the operative-classes,--both alike being diabolically oppressed by the aristocratic and wealthy classes, and both having rights to claim, privileges to acquire, abuses to rectify, and tyranny to subdue. In the name of common sense and common justice, let no insult ever be offered to the private soldier who conducts himself properly.

[21] It may seem astonishing how any respectable journals could be induced to lend themselves to such disgraceful puffery: but we will give our readers some little explanation upon the subject. The fact is that the quacks pay in the first instance for the insertion of the puffs as “paragraph-advertisements,” and then quote them as being the editorial opinions of the newspapers in which they are thus inserted! We quote from some of the quack-advertisements a few specimens of these “_ad captandum_” notices:--

“The task of preparing and producing the work entitled * * * *, by Messrs. * * *, though apparently not one of magnitude, demands a most intimate acquaintance with the mysteries of a profession of the highest character. To say that the author has produced a volume which cannot be otherwise considered than as a treasure, and a blessing to the community, is not saying too much; and being written by a duly qualified medical practitioner, its pages give evidence of the results of much personal investigation, and great researches in the study of medicine. In a word, the work has merits which develope no superficial attainments, and we cordially and most earnestly recommend it for general perusal.--_Weekly Chronicle._”

“To the gay and thoughtless we trust this little work will serve as a beacon to warn them of the danger attendant upon the too rash indulgence of their passions; whilst to some it may serve as a monitor in the hour of temptation, and to the afflicted as a sure guide to health.--_Chronicle._”

“Their long experience and reputation is the patient’s guarantee, and well deserves for the work its immense circulation.--_Era._”

“This is a medical publication, ably written, and developes the treatment of a class of painful maladies which has too long been the prey of the illiterate and the designing.--_United Service Gazette._”

“The author of this singular and talented work is a legally qualified medical man, who has had considerable experience in the treatment of the various disorders arising from the follies of early indiscretion. The engravings demonstrate the consequences of excesses, and, by its perusal, many questions may be satisfactorily replied to that admit of no appeal, even to the most confidential friend.--_Era._”

To explain more fully still the proceedings of the quacks and the artfulness of quackery, we refer our readers to the _Weekly Dispatch_ of Sunday, July 2; and at the bottom of a column (not in the regular advertising department) will be found the ensuing advertisement:--

“[ADVERTISEMENT.]--Holloway’s Pills an excellent Remedy for Indigestion, Bilious and Liver Complaints.--All painful and distressing sensations arising from these complaints (which are too well known to sufferers to require a description here of their symptoms) may be easily removed by a few doses of this inestimable medicine; for such is its efficacy, that the most debilitated constitutions are effectually strengthened, and the aversion to motion overcome, thus giving buoyancy to the spirits, creating an appetite, and promoting digestion. At this season, when epidemics are so prevalent, these pills should be taken, as they surpass every other remedy as a preventative of disorders, even of the most malignant kind. Sold by all Druggists, and at Professor Holloway’s Establishment, 244, Strand, London.”

This advertisement was of course duly paid for: but Mr. Holloway may now, if he choose to do so, quote the _Dispatch_ as having recommended the efficacy of his medicines to “strengthen the most debilitated constitutions;” and the public, trusting to such a powerful and honest authority as the _Dispatch_, will be induced to purchase the pills. Our readers can now comprehend how the medical quacks obtain reviews of their obscene books.

[22] Luck.

[23] Piece of luck.

[24] Money.

[25] In a publication entitled _The Medical Adviser_, and issued some years ago, we find the following observations relative to quacks and quackery:--“The legislators in almost every civilized society have considered them as pests and a disgrace to every country where they are to be found, and penal laws have therefore been enacted for the suppression of quackery. The Colleges of Physicians were instituted in different kingdoms of Europe, to examine all persons who undertook the practice of the art, to inspect all drugs in the apothecaries’ shops, and destroy such as were unfit; and there can be no doubt but their power extended to the examinations of nostrums in general, and on their report, the vendors were subject to severe penalties. In the reign of James I., an order of council, grounded on former laws, was issued for the apprehension of all quacks, in order to their being examined by the censors of the College of Physicians; on that occasion several mountebanks, water-tasters, ague-charmers, and vendors of nostrums were fined, imprisoned, and banished. This wholesome severity, it may be supposed, checked the evil for a time; but in the reign of William III. it became again necessary to put the laws in force against these base vermin and miscreants, in consequence of which many of them, when examined, confessed their utter ignorance to such a degree, as to be unable either to read or write; others, it was found, had been attempting to procure abortion in unfortunate single women; several of them were discovered to be fortune-tellers, match-makers, frauders, pimps, and bawds; some of these miscreants were set in the pillory, some put on horseback with their faces to the horse’s tail, with their noses and lips slit, and their necks decorated with a collar of urinals, and afterwards whipped, imprisoned, branded, and banished.”

The victims of quacks might even now show the scoundrels, if they chose, that there are laws in existence fully strong enough to punish them; and we should advise those who have been plundered to state their cases to their solicitors. It is intolerable that the public should be prayed upon by a set of villains who live in splendid mansions, ride in their carriages, and maintain luxurious tables at the expense of the unfortunate dupes whom their advertisements entrap.

Several years ago, Mr. Charles Dunne, a surgeon, presented to Parliament a petition against Quackery; and in that well reasoned document we find the ensuing paragraph, which, we feel convinced, our readers will peruse with interest:--

“That the mal-practices of quack doctors are wisely guarded against in every country of Europe, except Britain; for no person (under pain of fine and imprisonment), is allowed to take the charge of the sick, or even to direct the application of medicines, without having gone through the proper ordeals of examination as to his professional knowledge and acquirements. In England it is notorious that we have not only carpenters, tailors, bricklayers’ labourers, lead-pencil-makers, Jews old clothes men, journeymen, linen-drapers, and men of colour, but even women quacks, who practise their duplicities on the unwary and unthinking part of the public, by plundering all those who have the folly to approach them, whilst many are absolutely deprived of life by them, and others, who have the misfortune to escape death, are left to drag on a miserable existence with an entirely broken constitution for the remainder of their days. The baneful effects, too, of patent medicines, as they are called, deserve particular notice, the composition of which is formed in such a manner as to render their administration at all times dangerous, and but too often fraught with death; whereas, on the Continent, no medicines (similar to those with us called patent) are permitted to be sold, without first having been analyzed by the constituted chemical authorities, and duly examined by the respective faculties of medicine. It is clear from what occurs in law, divinity, and physic, that a foundation or competent education by a course of study, is essentially necessary to exercise any of these different departments, and whoever exercises them without this education cannot possibly do it with advantage to the community. For an unscientific knowledge of the treatment of any disease, even if occasionally successful in its object, can never be trusted to; for if any unforeseen circumstance should arise, such practitioner can neither avert the mischief, nor find means to relieve the patient, as a man of real science would do;--mere experience alone, devoid of science, can have no other claim on public notice than as empiricism, and, like a seaman, incapable of taking an observation when anything inauspicious occurs at sea, is unable to direct his course. Empiricism in all professions being the opposite to science, and directed by no regular principle but the knowledge of one or two isolated facts, is evidently hostile to the advancement of liberal principles, and too often ruinous to those confiding in such hollow pretensions. Empiricism, therefore, in religion, law, politics, and physic, is the hydra to be guarded against, as the bane of real knowledge and improvement; and wherever encouraged, such empiricism is always subversive of the best interests of mankind. The great object of legislation should be to impose a wholesome restraint on any attempt calculated to overstep the just and fair bounds, which the welfare of the people requires.”

[26] Flash, or fictitious, notes.

[27] Pass off, or change.

[28] Dark lanthorn.

[29] A crow-bar used by burglars.

[30] Burglary.

[31] Eliza Sydney. See First Series of “THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.”

[32] This was the case with the celebrated Watt, the improver of the steam-engine. He was driven from the city of London, at the commencement of his career, through his inability to pay the fine, then amounting to 40_l._ This fact remains on record to the immortal disgrace of the Corporation.

[Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.]