" I have," said I.

"What?" said Taggart.

" Why," said I, " there are those ballads."

Taggart took snuff.

"And those wonderful versions horn Ab
Gwilym."

VOL. II. G



122 UNrV^ERSAL MIXTURE. [Ch. XIII.

Taggart took snuff again.

"You seem to be very fond of snuff," said I;
looking at him angrily.

Taggart tapped his box.

" Have you taken it long?"

" Three- and- twenty years."

" What snuff do you take?"

" Universal mixture."

" And you find it of use ?"

Taggart tapped his box.

" In what respect?" said I.

" In many — there is nothing like it to get a man
through; but for snuff I should scarcely be where
I am now."

" Have you been long here ?"

" Three- and- twenty years."

"Dear me/' said I; "and snuff brought you
through ? Give me a pinch — pah, I don't like it,"
and I sneezed.

" Take another pinch," said Taggart.

" No," said I, " I don't Hke snuff."

" Then you will never do for authorship ; at least
for tliis kind."

" So I begin to tliink — what shall I do ?"



Ch. XIIL] SOME OTHER PUBLISHER. 123

Taggart took snuff.

" You were talking of a great work — what shall
it be?"

Taggart took snuff.

"Do you think I could write one?"

Taggart uplifted his two forefingers as if to tap,
he did not however.

" It would require time," said I, with a half sigh.

Taggart tapped liis box.

"A great deal of time; I really think that my
ballads "

Taggart took snuff.

" If pubhshed, would do me credit. I '11 make
an effort, and offer them to some other publisher."

Taggart took a double quantity of snuff.



G 2



CHAPTER XIV.

FRANCIS ARDRY. THAT WOn't DO, SIR. — OBSERVE MY GESTURES. 1

THINK YOU IMPROVE. — BETTER THAN POLITICS. DELIGHTFUL

YOUNG FRENCHWOMAN. A BURNING SHAME. — MAGNIFICENT IM-
PUDENCE. — PAUNCH. — VOLTAIRE. LUMP OP SUGAR.

Occasionally I called on Francis Ardry. This
young gentleman resided in handsome apartments
in the neighbourhood of a fashionable square, kept
a livery servant, and, upon the whole, lived in very
good style. Going to see him one day, between
one and two, I was informed by the sei'vant that
his master was engaged for the moment, but that,
if I pleased to wait a few minutes, I should find
him at liberty. Ha\ing told the man that I had
no objection, he conducted me into a small apart-
ment which served as antechamber to a drawing-
room; the door of this last being half open, I could
see Francis Ardry at the farther end, speechifying
and gesticulating in a very impressive manner.
The servant, in some confusion, was hastening to



Ch. XIV.] THAT won't DO, SIR. 125

close the door; but, ere lie could effect liis purpose,
Francis Ardry, who had caught a glimpse of me,
exclaimed, " Come in — come in by all means;" and
then proceeded, as before, speechifying and gesti-
culating. Filled with some surprise, I obeyed his
summons.

On entering the room I perceived another indi-
vidual, to whom Francis Ardry appeared to be
addressing himself; this other was a short spare
man of about sixty; his hair was of badger grey,
and his face was covered with wrinldes — without
vouchsafing me a look, he kept his eye, which was
black and lustrous, fixed full on Francis ArdiT, as
if paying the deepest attention to liis discourse.
All of a sudden, however, he cried with a sharp,
cracked voice, *' That won't do, sir; that wont do —
more vehemence — your argument is at present par-
ticularly weak; therefore, more vehemence — you
must confuse them, stun them, stultify them, sir;"
and, at each of these injunctions, he struck the
back of his right hand sharply against the palm of
the left. " Good, sir — good ! " he occasionally ut-
tered, in the same sharp, cracked tone, as the ^oice
of Francis Ardry became more and more vehement.



126 OBSERVE MY GESTURES. [Ch. XIV.

" Infinitely good ! " lie exclaimed, as Francis Ardry
raised his voice to the highest pitch; " and now,
sir, abate; let the tempest of vehemence decline —
gradually, sir; not too fast. Good, sir — very
good!" as the voice of Francis Ai'dry declined
gradually in vehemence. '' And now a little pathos,
su' — try them with a little pathos. That won t do,
sir — that won't do," — as Francis Ardry made an
attempt to become pathetic, — " that will never pass
for pathos — with tones and gesture of that descrip-
tion you will never redress the wrongs of your
country. Now, sir, observe my gestures, and pay
attention to the tone of my voice, sir."

Thereupon, making use of nearly the same terms
which Francis Ardry had employed, the individual
in black uttered several sentences in tones and with
gestures which were intended to express a consider-
able degree of pathos, though it is possible that
some people would have thought both tlie one and
the other highly ludicrous. After a pause, Francis
Ardry recommenced imitating the tones and the
gesture of his monitor in the most admirable man-
ner. Before he had proceeded far, however, he
burst into a fit of laughter, in which I should.



Ch. XIV.] I THINK YOU IMPROVE. 127

perhaps, have joined, pro\dded it were ever my
wont to laugh. " Ha, ha ! " said the other, good-
humouredly, " you are laughing at me. Well, well,
I merely wished to give you a hint ; but you saw
very well what I meant; upon the whole I think
you improve. But I must now go, having two
other pupils to visit before four."

Then taking from the table a kind of three cor-
nered hat, and a cane headed with amber, he shook
Francis Ardry by the hand; and, after glancing at
me for a moment, made me a half bow, attended
with a strange grimace, and departed.

"Who is that gentleman?" said I to Francis
Ardry, as soon as we were alone.

'' Oh, that is " said Frank smiling, " the

gentleman who gives me lessons in elocution."

*' And what need have you of elocution?"

" Oh, I merely obey the commands of my
guardians," said Francis, " who insist that I should,

with the assistance of , quahfy myself for

Parhament; for which they do me the honour to
suppose that I have some natural talent. I dare
not disobey them; for, at the present moment, I



128 BETTER THAN POLITICS. [Ch. XIV.

have particular reasons for wishing to keep on good
terms with them."

" But," said I, " you are a Eoman Cathohc; and
I thought that persons of your rehgion were ex-
cluded from Parliament?"

" Why, upon that very thing the whole matter
hinges; people of our rehgion are determined to
he no longer excluded from Parliament, but to have
a share in the government of the nation. Not that
I care any tiling about the matter; I merely obey
the will of my guardians; my thoughts are fixed
on something better than poUtics."

'* I understand you," said I; ^'dog-fighting —
well, I can easily conceive that to some minds dog-
figbting "

'' I was not thinking of dog-fighting," said
Francis Ardry, interrupting me.

" Not thinking of dog-fighting!" I ejaculated.

" No," said Francis Ardry, " something higher
and much more rational than dog-fighting at pre-
sent occupies my thoughts."

" Dear me," said I, '' I thought I had heard you
say, that there was nothing like it ! "



Ch. XIV.] DELIGHTFUL YOUNG FRENCHWOMAN. 129

" Like what?" said Francis Ardry.

" Dog-fighting, to be sure," said I.

''Pooh," said Francis Ardry; ''who but the
gross and unrefined care anytliing for dog-fighting?
That which at present engages my waking and
sleeping thoughts is love — divine love — there is
nothing Hke that. Listen to me, I have a secret
to confide to you."

And then Francis Ardry proceeded to make me
his confidant. It appeared that he had had the
good fortune to make the acquaintance of the most
delightful young Frenchwoman imaginable, Annette
La Noire by name, who had just arrived from her
native country with the intention of obtaining the
situation of governess in some English family; a
position which, on account of her many accom-
plishments, she was eminently qualified to fill.
Francis Ardry had, however, persuaded her to re-
linquish her intention for the present, on the
ground that, until she had become acclimated in
England, her health would probably suff'er from the
confinement inseparable fi'om the occupation in
wliich she was desirous of engaging; he had, more-
over — for it appeared that she was the most frank

G 3



130 A BURNING SHAME. [Ch. XIV.

and confiding creature in tlie world — succeeded in
persuading her to permit liim to hire for her a very
handsome first floor in his own neighbourhood, and
to accept a few inconsiderable presents in money
and jewellery. "I am looking out for a handsome
gig and horse/' said Francis Ardry, at the conclu-
sion of his narration; "'it were a burning shame
that so divine a creatui'e should have to go about a
place like London on foot, or in a paltry hackney
coach."

" But," said I, " will not the pursuit of pohtics
prevent your devoting much time to this fair lady?"

" It will prevent me devoting all my time," said
Francis Ardrv^, " as I gladly would; but what can I
do ? My guardians wish me to quahfy myself for
a pohtical orator, and I dare not offend them by a
refusal. If I off'end my guardians, I should find
it impossible — unless I have recourse to Jews and
money lenders — to support Annette; present her
with articles of dress and jewelleiy, and purchase a
horse and cabriolet worthy of conve)dng her angehc
person through the streets of London."

After a pause, in which Francis Ardiy appeared
lost in thought, his mind being probably occupied



Ch. XIV.] MAGNIFICENT IMPUDENCE. 131

with the subject of Annette, I broke silence by
observing, " So your feUow-rehgionists are really
going to make a serious attempt to procure their
emancipation?"

"Yes," said Francis Ardry, starting from his
reverie; "everything has been arranged; even a
leader has been chosen, at least for us of Ireland,
upon the whole the most suitable man in the world
for the occasion — a barrister of considerable talent,
mighty voice, and magnificent impudence. With
emancipation, liberty, and redress for the wrongs of
Ireland in his mouth, he is to force his way into
the British Souse of Commons, dragging myself
and others behind him — he will succeed, and when

he is in he will cut a figure ; I have heard

himself, who has heard him speak, say that he ^dll
cut a figure."

"And is competent to judge?" I de-
manded.

"Who but he?" said Francis Ardry; "no one
questions his judgment concerning what relates to
elocution. His fame on that point is so well
established, that the greatest orators do not disdain
occasionally to consult him ; C himself, as



132 PAUNCH. [Ch. XIV.

I have been told, when anxious to produce any
particular effect in the House, is in the habit of
calHng in for a consultation."

"As to matter, or manner?" said I.

" Chiefly the latter," said Francis Ai'dry, " though
he is competent to give ad\dce as to both, for he
has been an orator in his day, and a leader of the
people; though he confessed to me that he was not
exactly qualified to play the latter part — ' I want
paunch,' said he."

"It is not always indispensable," said I; "there
is an orator in my town, a hunchback and watch-
maker, without it, who not only leads the people, but
the mayor too; perhaps he has a succedaneum in
his hunch : but, tell me, is the leader of your move-
ment in possession of that which wants?"

" No more deficient in it than in brass," said
Francis Ardry.

" Well," said I, " whatever liis qualifications may
be, I wish him success in the cause which he has
taken up — I love religious liberty."

" We shall succeed," said Francis Ardry; " John
Bull upon the w^hole is rather indifferent on the
subject, and then we are sure to be backed by the



Ch. XIV.] VOLTAIRE. 13B

Kadical party, who, to gratify tlieir political pre-
judices, would join with Satan himself."

" There is one thing," said I, " connected with
this matter which surprises me — your own luke-
warmness. Yes, making every allowance for your
natural predilection for dog-fighting, and your pre-
sent enamoured state of mind, your apathy at the
commencement of such a movement is to me unac-
countahle."

" You would not have cause to complain of my
indifference," said Frank, ^' provided I thought my
country would he henefited hy this movement; hut
I happen to know the origin of it. The priests are
the originators, ' and what country was ever hene-
fited hy a movement which owed its origin to
them?' so says Voltaire, a page of whom I occa-
sionally read. By the present move they hope to
increase their influence, and to further certain de-
signs which they entertain both with regard to this
country and Ireland. I do not speak rashly or
unadvisedly. A strange fellow — a half ItaUan,
half Enghsh priest, — who was recommended to me
hy my guardians, partly as a spiritual — 2)^^'^^y ^^ ^
temporal guide, has let me into a secret or two ; he



134 LUMP OF SUGAR. [Ch. XIV.

is fond of a glass of gin and water — and over a
glass of gin and water cold, with a lump of sugar in
it, lie has been more communicative, perhaps, than
was altogether prudent. Were I my own master, I
would kick him, politics, and rehgious movements,
to a considerable distance. And now, if you are
going away, do so quickly; I have an appointment
with Annette, and must make myself fit to appear
before her."



CHAPTER XV.

PROGRESS. GLORIOUS JOHN. — UTTERLTT UNINTELLIGIBLE. — WHAT A

DIFFERENCE.

By the month of October I had, in spite of all dif-
ficulties and obstacles, accomplished about two-
thirds of the principal task wliich I had undertaken,
the compihng of the Newgate hves; I had also
made some progress in translating the pubHsher's
philosophy into German. But about this time I
began to see very clearly that it was impossible that
our connection should prove of long duration ; yet,
in the event of my leaving the big man, what other
resource had I — another publisher? But what had
I to offer? There were my ballads, my Ab Gwilym,
but then I thought of Taggart and his snuff, his
pinch of snuff. However, I determined to see what
could be done, so I took my ballads under my arm,
and went to various pubhshers; some took snuff.



1.36 GLORIOUS JOHN. [Ch. XV.

Others did not, but none took my ballads or Ab
Gwilym, they would not even look at them. One
asked me if I had anything else — he was a snuff-
taker — I said yes ; and going home, returned with
my translation of the Gennan novel, to which I
have before alluded. After keeping it for a fort-
night, he returned it to me on my visiting him, and,
taking a pinch of snuff, told me it would not do.
There were marks of snuff on the outside of the
manuscript, which w^as a roll of paper bound with
red tape, but there were no marks of snuff on the
interior of the manuscript, from which I concluded
that he had never opened it.

I had often heard of one Glorious John, who lived
at the western end of the town ; on consulting Tag-
gart, he told me that it was possible that Glorious
John would pubHsh my ballads and Ab Gwilym,
that is, said he, taking a pinch of snuff, provided
you can see him ; so I went to the house where
Glorious John resided, and a glorious house it was,
but I could not see Glorious John — I called a dozen
times, but I never could see Glorious John. Twenty
years after, by the greatest chance in the world, I
saw Glorious John, and sm*e enough Glorious Jolm



Ch. XV.] UTTERLY UNINTELLIGIBLE. 137

published my books, but they were different books
from the first ; I never offered my ballads or Ab
Gwilym to Glorious John. Glorious John was no
snuff- taker. He asked me to dinner, and treated
me with superb Khenish wine. Glorious John is
now gone to his rest, but I — what was I going to
say? — the world will never forget Glorious John.

So I returned to my last resource for the time
then being — to the publisher, persevering doggedly
in my labour. One day, on visiting the pubhsher,
I found him stamping with fui*y upon certain frag-
ments of paper. " Sir," said he, " you know no-
thing of German ; I have shown your translation of
the first chapter of my Pliilosophy to several Ger-
mans : it is utterly unintelligible to them." " Did
they see the Philosophy ? " I replied. " They did,
sir, but they did not profess to understand EngHsh.
No more do I," I rephed, '' if that Philosophy be
EngHsh."

The publisher was furious — I was silent. Eor
want of a pinch of snuff, I had recourse to some-
thing which is no bad substitute for a pinch of snuff,
to those who can't take it, silent contempt ; at first it
made the pubhsher more furious, as perhaps a pinch



138 WHAT A DIFFERENCE. [Ch. XV.

of snuff would; it, however, eventually calmed
him, and he ordered me hack to my occupations,
in other words, the compilation. To he hrief, the
compilation was completed, I got paid in the usual
manner, and forthwith left him.

He was a clever man, but what a difference in
clever men !



CHAPTER XVI.

THE OLD SPOT. — A LONG HISTORY. — THOU SHALT NOT STEAL. — NO
HARM. — EDUCATION. — NECESSITY. — FOAM ON YOUR LIP. — APPLES
AND PEARS. WHAT WILL YOU REAdI METAPHOR. — THE FUR CAP.

— I don't know him.

It was past mid-Tvinter, and I sat on London
Bridge, in company with the old apple-woman :
she had just returned to the other side of the bridge,
to her place in the booth where I had originally
found her. This she had done after frequent
conversations with me ; " she liked the old place
best," she said, which she would never have
left but for the terror which she experienced
when the boys ran away with her book. So I sat
with her at the old spot, one afternoon past mid-
winter, reading the book, of which I had by this
time come to the last pages. I had observed that
the old woman for some time past had shown much
less anxiety about the book than she had been in
the habit of doing. I was, however, not quite
prepared for her offering to make me a present of it,



140 A LONG HISTORY. [Ch. XVI.

which she did that afternoon ; when, having finished
it, I returned it to her, with many thanks for the
pleasure and instruction I had derived from its
perusal. " You may keep it, dear," said the old
woman, Tvdth a sigh; "you may carry it to your
lodging, and keep it for your own."

Looking at the old woman with surprise, I ex-
claimed, " Is it possible that you are willing to
part with the book which has been your source of
comfort so long ? "

Whereupon the old woman entered into a long
histor}^ fr'om wliich I gathered that the book had
become distasteful to her ; she hardly ever opened it
of late, she said, or if she did, it was only to shut
it again ; also, that other things which she had been
fond of, though of a widely different kind, were now
distasteful to her. Porter and beef- steaks were no
longer grateful to her palate, her present diet chiefly
consisting of tea, and bread and butter.

" Ah," said I, " you have been ill, and when
people are ill, they seldom hke the things which
give them pleasure when they are in health." I
learned, moreover, that she slept little at night, and
had all kinds of strange thoughts ; that as she lay



Ch. XVI.] THOU SHALT NOT STEAL. 141

awake many things connected witli lier youth, which
she had quite forgotten, came into her mind. There
were certain words that came into her mind the
night before the last, which were continually hum-
ming in her ears : I found that the words were,
" Thou shalt not steal."

On inquiring where she had first heard these words,
I learned that she had read them at school, in a
book called the primer ; to this school she had been
sent by her mother, who was a poor widow, and fol-
lowed the trade of apple- selling in the very spot
where her daughter followed it now. It seems that
the mother was a very good kind of woman, but
quite ignorant of letters, the benefit of wliich she
was willing to procure for her child; and at the
school the daughter learned to read, and subse-
quently experienced the pleasure and benefit of let-
ters, in being able to read the book which she found
in an obscure closet of her mother's house, and
which had been her principal companion and com-
fort for many years of her life.

But, as I have said before, she was now dissatisfied
with the book, and with most other tilings in which



142 NO HARM. [Ch. XVI.

she had taken pleasui'e; she dwelt much on the
words, " Thou shalt not steal ; " she had never stolen
things herself, but then she had bought things which
other people had stolen, and which she knew had
been stolen ; and her dear son had been a thief, which
he perhaps would not have been but for the example
which she set him in buying things from characters,
as she called them, who associated with her.

On inquiring how she had become acquainted
with these characters, I learned that times had gone
hard with her ; that she had married, but her hus-
band had died after a long sickness, wliich had re-
duced them to great distress ; that her fruit trade
was not a profitable one, and that she had bought
and sold things wliich had been stolen to support
herself and her son. That for a long time she sup-
posed there was no harm in doing so, as her book
was fall of entertaining tales of stealing ; but she
now thought that the book was a bad book, and
that learning to read was a bad thing ; her mother
had never been able to read, but had died in peace,
though poor.

So here was a woman who attributed the vices



Ch. XVL] EDUCATION. 143

and follies of her life to being able to read; her
mother, she said, who could not read, lived respect-
ably, and died in peace ; and what was the essential
difference between the mother and daughter, save
that the latter could read ? But for her literature she
might in all probability have lived respectably and
honestly, hke her mother, and might eventually
have died in peace, which at present she could
scarcely hope to do. Education had failed to pro-
duce any good in tliis poor woman ; on the con-
trary, there could be Httle doubt that she had been
injured by it. Then was education a bad thing ?
Eousseau was of opinion that it was ; but Kousseau
was a Frenchman, at least wrote in French, and T
cared not the snap of my fingers for Eousseau.
But education has certainly been of benefit in some
instances ; well, what did that prove, but that par-
tiahty existed in the management of the afiairs of
the world — if education was a benefit to some, why
was it not a benefit to others ? Could some avoid
abusing it, any more than others could avoid turn-
ing it to a profitable account ? I did not see how
they could ; this poor simple woman found a book



144 NECESSITY. [Ch. XVI.

in her mother's closet ; a book, which was a capital
book for those who could turn it to the account for
which it was intended ; a book, from the perusal of
which I felt myself wiser and better, but which was
by no means suited to the intellect of this poor
simple woman, who thought that it was written in
praise of thie\dng; yet she found it, she read it,
and — and — I felt myself getting into a maze ; what
is right, thought I ? what is wrong ? Do I exist ?
Does the world exist? if it does, every action is
bound up with necessity.

" Necessity!" I exclaimed, and cracked my finger
joints.

" Ah, it is a bad thing," said the old woman.

" What is a bad thing ? " said I.

" Why to be poor, dear."

" You talk Hke a fool," said I, '' riches and
poverty are only different forms of necessity."

" You should not call me a fool, dear; you should
not call your own mother a fool."

" You are not my mother," said I.

" Not your mother, dear ? — no, no more I am ;
but your calling me fool put me in mind of my dear



Ch. XVI.] FOAM ON YOUR LIP. 145

son, -who often used to call me fool — and you just
now looked as he sometimes did, with a blob of
foam on your lip."

" After all, I don't know that you are not my
mother."

" Don't you, dear ? I *m glad of it; I wish you
would make it out."

" How should I make it out ? who can speak
from his own knowledge as to the circumstances of
his birth ? Besides, before attempting to establish
our relationship, it would be necessary to prove that
such people exist."

" What people, dear ? "

" You and I."

'' Lord, child, you are mad ; that book has made
you so."

" Don't abuse it," said I ; '*â–  the book is an ex-
cellent one, that is, provided it exists."

'' I wish it did not," said the old woman ; " but it
shan't long; I '11 bum it, or fling it into the river —
the voices at night tell me to do so."