ALL THE YEAE EOUND. - Repositories

"THE STOEY OF OUR LIVES FEOM TEAB TO TEAE."—SHiKiispsAim.
ALL THE YEAE EOUND.
A WEEKLY JOURNAL.
CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.
WITH WHICH IS INCOKPOEATED HOUSEHOLD WOEDS.
X"' 42.] SATVTRDAI, FEBRUAIIT 11, 1860. [PEICE 2*
THE WOMAN IN WHITE.
MISS HALCOMBE'S SABEATIVE COSTimfED.
• • * « «
Blockwater Park, Bampshirp.
JuiTE 37.—Six months to look back on—six
iicr, lonely months, since Laura and I last saw
• h other!
How many days have I still to wait? Onlv
• ! To-morrow, the twenty-eighth, the travel-
• return to England. I con hardly realise my
1! happiness; I can hardly believe that tbe
\t four-and-twenty hours will complete the
~t day of separation between Laura and me.
•^Iie and her husband liave been in Italy all
le winter, and afterwards iu tbe Tyrol. They
rnie back, accompanied by Count Fosco and
wife, who propose to settle somewhere in tbe
gbbourhood of London, and who have engaged
stayat Black water Park forthe summer mouths
Tore deciding on a place of residence. So long
iaura returns, no matter who returns with
Sir Percival may fill the house from floor
:ceiling, if he likes, on condition that his wife
I inhabit it together.
'canwhile, here I am, established at Black-
Park ; " the ancient and interesting seat"
the county history obligingly mforms me)
& Sir Percival Glyde, Bart."—and tbe future
*iing-place (as I may now venture to add, on
own account) of plain Marian Halcombe,
iter, now settled in a snug Uttle sitting-room,
a cup of tea by her side, and all her earthly
ions ranged round her in tbree boxes and
"1 left Limmeridge yesterday; having received
Laura's deliclitful letter from Paris, the day
before. I had been previously uncertain whether
I was to meet them in London, or in Hampshire;
but thia Ust letter informed me, that Sir Percival
proposed to land at Southampton, and to
travel straight on to his country-house. He has
apcnt so much money abroad, tbat he has none
left to defray tbe expenses of living in London,
for the remainder of the season; and he is
economically resolved to pass tbe summer and
UitumQ quietly at Blackwater. Laura has had
Diore than enough of excitement and change of
ocenG; and is pleased at the prospect of country
tranquillity and retirement which her husband's
prudence provides for ber. As for me, I am
ready to be happy anywhere in her society. We
y^ ~ L ^
are all, therefore, well contented in onr various
ways, to berin with.
Last night, I slept iu London, and was delayed
there so long, to-day, by various eaUs and
commissions, that I did not reach Blackwoter,
this evening, till after dusk.
Judging by my vague impressions of the place,
thus far, it is the exact opposite of Limmeridge.
The honse is situated on a dead flat, and seems
to be shut in—almost suff'ocated, to my northconntry
notions—by trees. I have seen nobody,
but the man-servant who opened the door to me,
and the housekeeper, a very civil person who
showed nie the way to my own room, and got
me my tea. I have a mce little boudoir and
bedroom, at tbe end of a long passage ou the
flrst floor. Tbe servants' and some of the spare
rooms are ou the second floor; and all the living
rooms are on the ground floor. I have not seen
one of them yet, and I kuow nothmg about the
house, except tbat one wing of it is said to be
Ave hundred vears old, that it had a moat round
it once, and that it gets its name of Blackwater
from a lake in the pork.
Eleven o'clock has just stmck, in a ghostly
and solemn manner, from a turret over the
centre of the house, which I saw when I came
in, A large dog has been woke, apparently by
tbe sound ot the bell, and is howling and yawning
drearily, somewhere round a corner. 1 hear
echoing footsteps in the passages below, and the
iron thumping of bolts and bars at the house
door. The servants are evidently going to bed.
Shdl I follow their example F
No: I am not half sleepy enough. Sleepy,
did I say P I feel as if I should never close my
eyes again. The bare anticipation of seeing that
dear mce and hearing that well-known voice
to-morrow, keeps me in a perpetual fever of
excitement. If I only had the privileges of a
man, I would order out Sir Percival's best horse
instantly, and tear awajr on a night-gallop, eastward,
to meet the rising sun—a long, hard,
heavy, ceaseless gallop of hours and hours, like
the famous highwayman's ride to York. Being,
however, nothing but a woman, condemned to
patience, propriety, and petticoats, for life, I
must respect the housekeeper's opinions, and try
to compose myself in some feeble and feminine
way.
Reading is out of the question—I can't fix
my attention on books. Let me trr if X can
write myself into sleepiness and fatigue. My

35S [FrinU7.1l,lMig. AIiL XaE lEAE ROUND.
ioonud has been very mnch nM^eeted of Inte. no injufitiee if I describe bim as bi-iii" m^i
!wh«t can Xrecol—standing,jts 1 now do, on the ably relieved, by. haviug the houT
threilioU of a icn Ijfe—of jpcrsoni and events, women. '9ie> iiila of liis milsiii:.'
of oWiqrey aud dusgai,; ituing tliip |nst six sinpljr vropotfeaDus—he asai t-i
months—the long, weatj, empty interval since pass, in Die old times, without att> h
Laura's wedding day P
nei>*Hkad,. in my case and Mrs. V'leave
to consider his telling na boili <
Walter Hartright iaiq>|»ni>f«i iaaag wamacy. haKhejnit-b»fcea«t:oiirdt^rture, to i" irjui-.i.
and he passes first in the shadowy procession of lent to a confession that he was secretly rnnicnl
my abmnt friends. 1 reoetved a low lines from to get rid of ns. His hist caprice \>n~ !

to iiiake all tbe arrangements for the journey.
" Sir Percival" has settled that »e leave on auch
a day; "Sir Percival" has decided that we
travel by such a road. Sometimes she writes,
"Percival" only, but very seldom—inniuecases
out of ten, she gives him his title.
1 cannot And that his habits and opinious have
changed and coloured hers iu any single particular.
The usnai moral trousformal ion which
is-insensibly wrought in a young, fresh, sensitive
woniau by hei- nianiiige, seems ucveir to hBfve
takeu place in Laura. She writes of her own
thoughts and impressions, mnid all the wonders
gke bus soen, exactlv as-she might have written
to some one else, if I had been travelling with
faer instead of her liOBbcind. I see no bd;ra|fal
anywhere, oi' sjinpathy of any kind csistuig
bi;lwcen tliem. Even when she wanders from
the subject of her travels, and occupies heraelf
with the pn^jiects that await her iu England,
Im speculations are busied with her future as.
my sistor, aud persistency neglect to notice her
fnture as Sii- Pereival's wife. In ail this, there
is no undertone of comploiut, to warn me that:
ahe is absolutely unhappy in her married life.
Tlic impression I have aerived from our corre-
>[»>iideJice does not, thank God, lead me tn«ny
liitressiiig condusiou as that. I only see
loE^or, au unchangeable indifference, when
.a my mind from her in the old diaracter
a sister, and look at her, through the medium
"her letters, in the new character of a wife,
otlier words, it is fdways Laura Fairlie who
been writing to me for the lost si^c mouths,
^never Lady Glyde.
"le ati'onee slleuac which she maintains on
itgtot of her husband's diaraeter and couple
preserves with aimoet equal resolution
6w referenees which her later letters eonithe
nauiB of her husband's bosom friend,
Fosco.
For some unexplained reason, the Connt and
his wife appear to h«ve changed their plans
' K-, at the end of laet autinn», and to have
lu Vienna, instead of going to Eome, at
, hit-ter plaee Sir Pei-civnl bad eicpected to
^..1'. iliem when he left England. They only
quilted Vienna in the spring, and travelled as
far as tbe Tyrol to meet tbe bride and bridegroom
un their homeward journey. Laura
writes readily enough about tbe meeting with
Madame Poseo, and assures me that she has
found horauiit so nnzoh changed for the better
—so much quieterand'so much more*sensible.as
a wife tliau she was as a single woman—that I
^b!l hnnil', know her again wlien Isee ber^here,
-uhject of Count Fosco (whointe-
'••ly more than his wil'e), Laura is
icunKpect and silent, ^e only
;•."" ui;ii 11,' puzzles lier, and that she mU not
tp|l me wlmt her imiu'ession of him is, until I
have seen him, and formed my own-opinion first.
Tbis, to my niiad, looks ill for the Count.
Lnum has pi-cscrved, far more perfcctiy than
most people do in later life, the child's subtle^
Tiieiiliv of knowing a friend by instinct; and, If
n^t in assumingthatherflisf. impression
ALL THE TEAH ROUKD. [FnWuByJI, IHO.J 359
of Count Fosco has not been favourable, I, for
one, am in some danger of doubting and distrusting
that illBstrioiiB foreigner before I have so
much as set eyes ou liim. But, patience,
patience; this uncertainty, and many uncertainlies
more, caunot last much longer. Tomorrow
wiU sec all my doubts in a fair way of
being cleared up, sooner or later.
Tweive o'clocjc has struck; ami 1 have just
tome baok to close these pi^ea, after looking out
at my opeu mndow.
It ia a still, Bulfa-y, moonless niglft. The
stars are dull and few. The trees that shut out
tbe view on all sides, look dimly bWk and solid
in the distancp, like a great wall of rock. I hear
the croaking of fr(^a, faint and far off; and the
echoes of the gretit clock bell hum in the airless
oalm, loi^ after the strokes hare ceased. I
wonder how Blaci(mater' Ssak will look in the
da^-timeP I don't altu^ther like'it by night.
2Btli.—A dayof iDvestisatioaE and discoveries
—amore interesting day, tor'manyTeasons, tlmn
I had ventured to autictpate.
I began my sight-seeing, of' course, with- the
house.
The main body of the bulling is of tbe time
of t;hat hi^lyoverrated woman, Quern Elizabdii.
On the ground floor, there are two bragely long
gaHories, with low ceihugs, lying parallel with
each other, and rendered additiounlly dark and
dismal by hideous family portraits—every one of
whieh I should like to burn. Tbe roomB ou the
floor above the two giiUeries, are kept in toler^e
repair, but are very seldom used. The
civil housekeeper, who acted as my guide, offered
to show me over tliem; but oousiderateiy
added that she feared I should fiud them rather
oirt of order. My respect for tbe integrity of.
my own pettiooets and stockings, inflnitely exceeds
my reepect for all the BUzabethau bedrooms
in tbe kingdom ; so I positively declined
exploring the upper regions of dust and dirt at
the risk of soiling my nice clean eluvliea. The
housekeeper said, " I am quite of your opinion,
miss;" and appeared to think me the most
sensible woman she bod met with for a long time
past.
So much, then, for the main building. Two
wings are added, at either end of it. The
half-ruined wing on the left (as you approach
the house) was once a place of residence standing
by itself, aad was built in the fourteenth
century. One of Sir Percival's maternal ancestors—I
don't remember, aud don't care, which
—tacked on the main building, at right angles
to it, in the aforesaid Queen Elizabeth's time.
The housekeeper told me that lbe orchitectuiie
of "the old wing," both outside and inside, waa
considered remaricably fine by good judges. On
further investigation, I discovered that good
judges could ouly exercise their abilities ou Sir
Poieival's piece of antiquity by previously diBmissing
from their minds all fear of damp, darkness,
and rats. Under these oinjnmstaoces, I
unhesitatingly ackuowledaed myself to be no
judge at all; and suggested that w^ sbuuhl treat

MO
ALL THE YEAR ROUND.
"the old win^' precisely as we had previously
treated tbe Eluabethan bedrooms. Once more,
the houaekeeper said, " I am quite of your
opinion, miss;" and ouce more sbe looked at
me, with undisguised admiration of my extraordinary
common sense.
We went, next, to the wing on the right,
which was built, by way of completing the wonderful
architectural jumble at Blackwater Park,
in the lime of Geoi^ the Second. This is the
habitable part of the house, which haa been repaired
and redecorated, inside, on Laura's
account. My two rooms, and all the good bedrooms
besides, are on the first fioor; and the
basement eontaius a drawing-room, a dmingroom,
a momiiig-room, a library, and a pretty
little boudoir for Laura—all very nicely ornamented
in tbe bright modem war, and all very
elegantly furnished with the delightful modem
luxuries. None of the rooms are anything like
so large and airy as our rooms at Limmendgc;
hut they all look pleasant to live in. I was
terribly afraid, from what I had heard of Blackwater
Park, of fatiguing antique chairs, aud
dismal stained glass, aud musty, frouzy hangings,
and all the barbarous lumber which people born
without a sense of comfort accumulate about
them, in defiance of all consideration due to the
conveiueuce of tbeir friends. It is an inexpressible
relief to find that the nineteenth century has
invaded this strange future home of mine, and
bas swept the dirty " good old times" out of tbe
way of our daily life.
I dawdled away the moming—part of the
time in the rooms down stairs ; and part, out of
doors, iu the great square which is formed by the
three sides of the bouse, and by the lofty u-on
railings and gates which protect it iu front. A
large circular fishpond, with stone sides and an
allegorical leaden monster in the middle, occupies
the centre of the square. The pond itself
IS full of gold aud sdver iisb, and is encircled by
a broad belt of the softest turf I ever walked on.
I loitered here, oo the shady side, pleasantly
enougb, till lunobcon time ; and, after that, took
my broad straw hat, and wandered out alone, iu
the warm lovely sunlight, to explore the grouuds.
Daylight confirmed the impression which I
bad felt the nigbt before, of there being too
many trees at Blackwater. The house is stifled
hy them. Tbcy are, for the most part, young,
and planted far too thickly. I suspect there
must have been a nimous cutting down of
timber, aE over the estate, before Sir Percival's
time, and an angry anxiety, on tbe part of Ihe
next possessor, to fill up all the ^ps as thickly
sud rapidly as possible" After looking about
me, m front of the honse, I observed a flowergarden
on my left hand, aud walked towarda it,
to see what I could discover in that direction.
On a nearer view, the garden proved to be
small and poor and ill-ke|)t. I left it behind
me, opened a little gate in a ring fence, and
found myself in a plantation of fir-trees. A
pretty, winding path, artificially made, led me
on among the trees; aud my north-country experience
soou informed me that I was approach­
77'
ing sandy, heathy ground. After a wuli
more thiui half a mue, I should think, &ath took a sharp tum; the '
abruptly ceased to appear on eilhci" side uf
and I fonnd myselt standing sudiii:
margin of a vast open space, and )<
at the Blackwater lake from whicii
takes its name.
The ground, shelving away below me, WUBII I
sand, with a few little heathy hillocks tn hrmk
tbe monotony of it in certain place? T'- • '
itself had evidentW once flowed to '•'
which I stood, and had been grailit
and dried up to less than a third i^t
size. I saw its still, stagnant wate:
of a mile away from me in thehollu.
into pools and ponds, by twininj.
rushes, aud little knolls of eanli
farther bank from ine, the trees iagain,
and shut out the view, aiul
black shadows on the sluggish, sh^'.'
As I walked down to the lake, I .'^•..
ground on its farther side was
marshy, overgrown with rank grass ,
willows. The water, which was clt:
on the opeu sandy side, wheiv
shone, looked black and poisonru
to me, where it lay deeper under
of the spongy bonks and the rank i'\
thickets and tangled trees. The I:
croaking, mid the rats were elifipiug
of the shadowy water, like Uve sh-.ul
selves, as I got nearer to the inars)i> ..
lake. I saw here, lying half in ancl iiuii nw
tbe water, the rotten wreck of an old overturn
boat, with a sickly spot of sunlight dimmer,
through a gap iuj^he trees on its drv ""'
and a snake basking in the midst ul :
footastically coiled, and treacherously
and near, tbe view suggested the sai
impressions of solitude and decay; ml !•
glorious brightness of the summer sky overhi' :
seemed only to deepen and harden'tlii^ ^1'"
and barrenness of the wilderness on '
shone. I tnmed and retraced my s:
high, heathy ground; directing llif;
aside from my former path, towartis
old woodeu shed, which stood ou the
of the fir [>lantation, and which li;.::
been too unimportant to shore my uoii^. •
the wide, wild prospect of the lake.
Ou approaching the shed, I found (hat il iu •
onee been a boat-house, aud tliat an attempt li.i
apparently been made to convert It afterwo;into
a sort of mde arbour, by placing insult
a finvood seat, a few stools, and a tabic. •
entered the place, and sat downfor alitUev
to rest and get my breath again. 4
I had not been iu tbe boat-house mon'.R
minute, when it struck me that tbe I
my own quick breathing was very «_.^
echoed by something beneath me. I l^j
intently for a moment, and heard a loifi
sobbing breath that seemed to come fi
ground under the seat which I waa occ
My nerves are not easily shaken by triflcii;
ou this occasion, I started to my feet in a 8

CluiilM Dkkon*.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. rFebrnmy 11, ie» 1 361
—called out—received ao answer—summoned
hack nij recreant courage—and looked under
the seat.
There, crouched up in the farthest comer,
lay the forlorn cause of my terror, in the shape
of n poor little dog—a blaek and white spaniel.
Tlie creature moaned feebly when I looked at it
and called to it, bnt never stirred. I moved
away the seat and looked closer. The poor little
dog s eyes were glazing fast, and there were
spots of blood on its glossy white side. The
misery of a weak, helpless, dumb creatiu*e is
surely one of the saddest of all the mournful
sights which this world can show. I lifted the
poor dog m my arms as gently as I could, and
contrived a sort of make-shift hammock for him
to bc in, by gathering up the front of my dress
atl rouud bim. In tins way, I took the creature,
as painlessly as possible, and as fast as possible,
back to the house.
Finding no oue in the hall, I went up at once
to my own sitting-room, made a bed for tbe dojf
with ouc of my old shawls, and rang the bell.
The largest and fattest of all possible housemaids
answered it, in a state of cheerful stupidity
which would have provoked the patience
of a saint. The girl's fat, shapeless face actually
stretched into a broad grin, at the sight of
the wounded creature on the floor.
" What do you see there to laugh at ?" I
asked, as anerily as if she had been a servant of
my own. "Do you know whose dog it is ?"
" No, miss, that I certainly don't." She
stopped, and looked down at tne spaniel's injured
aide^brightened suddenly vrith the irradiation
of a new idea—and, pointing to the wound
wilh a chuckle of satisfaction, said, "That's
Baxter's doings, that is."
I was so exasperated that I could have boxed
her ears. "Baxter?" I said. " Who is the brute
you call Baxter ?"
The girl grinned again, more cheerfully than
ever, " Bless you, miss! Baxter's the keeper;
and when be finds strange dogs bunting about,
he takes and shoots 'em. It s keeper's dooty,
miss. I think that dog will die. Here's where
he's been shot, ain't it r That's Baxter's doings,
tbat is. Baxter's doings, miss, and Baxter's
dooty."
I was almost wicked enough to wish that
Baxter bad shot the housemaid instead of the
dog. Seeing that it was qnite useless to expect
this densely impenetrable personage to give me
any help m relieving the sufl'ering creature
at our feet, I told her to request the housekeeper's
attendance, with my compliments. She
went out exactly as she had come in, grinning
from car to ear. As the door closed on her, she
said to herself, softly, "It's Baxter's doings and
Baxter's dooty—that's what it is."
The housekeeper, a person of some education
and intelligence, thoughtfully brought up-stairs
with her some nulk and some warm water. The
instaut she saw the dog on the floor, ahe started
and changed colour.
" Why, Lord bless me," cried the housekeeper,
' must be Mrs. Catherick's dog!"
" Whose ?'
ment.
I asked, in the utmost astonish-
" Mrs. Catherick's. Tou seem to know Mrs.
Catherick, Miss Halcombe?"
Not personally. But I have heard of her.
Does she live here P Has she had any news of
her daughter?"
" No, Miss Halcombe. She came here to ask
for news ?"
"WhenP"
"Only yesterday. Slie said some one had
reportea that a stranger answering to the description
of her daughter had been seen in our
neighbourhood. No snch report has reached
ns here ; and no such report was known in the
village, when I sent to make inquiries there on
Mrs. Catherick's account. She certainly bronght
this poor little dog with her when she came;
and I saw it trot out after her wheu she went
away. I suppose the creature strayed into the
plantations, and got shot. Where did you fiud
it. Miss Halcombe?"
" In tbe old shed that looks ont on the lake."
" Ah, yes, that is the plantation side, and the
poor thing dragged itself, I suppose, to the
nearest shelter, as dogs will, to die. If yon can
moisten its lips with the milii. Miss Halcombe,
I will wash the clotted hair from tbe wonnd. I
am very much afraid it is too late to do any good.
However, we can but try,"
Mrs. Catherick! The name stiU rang in my
ears, as if the housekeeper had only that moment
surprised me by uttering it. While we were
attending to the dog, the words of Walter Hartright's
caution to me returned to ray memory.
"If ever Anne Catberick crosses your path,
make better use of the opportunity. Miss Htdcombe,
than I made of it.'* The finding of the
wounded spaniel had led me already to the discovery
of Mrs. Catherick's visit to Blackwater
Park ; aud that event migh^lead, in its turn, to
something more. I determined to make the most
of the chance which was now offered me, and
to gain as much information as I could.
" Did you say that Mrs. Catherick hved anywhere
in this neighbourhood?" I asked.
" Oh, dear no," said the housekeeper. " She
lives at Welmingbam ; quite at the other end of
the county—five-and-twenty miles off at least."
" I suppose you have known Mrs. Catherick
for some years ?"
" On the contrary. Miss Halcombe; I never
saw ber before she came here, yesterday. I had
heard of her, of course, because I had heard of
Sir Percival's kindness in putting her daughter
under medical care. Mrs. Catherick is rather
a strange peraon in her manners, but extremely
respectable-looking. She seemed sorely put out,
when she found that there was no foundation—
none, at least, that any of 7is conld discover—for
the report of her daughter having beeu seen in
this neighbourhood."
" I am rather interested about Mrs. Catherick,"
I went on, continuing the conversation as
long as possible. " I wish I had arrived here
soon enougli to see her yesterday. Did she stay
for any length of time ?

MZ* Tm TF.A"R ROUND.
" "im," awd't^c lunuekeoiMt, " she stayed for
some time. And I think she would have remained
Iw^er, if I had pot tnoa oUed amaj to
speak to a strai^ gentlemui—« gendemao who
came to aik KV£QD Sir fierciral was exfMoted
back. Um. Qalheriak gat up aad 1^ at onoe,
when she heard the maid lell me what the
visitor's eniuuiwoi. BheasMl^tone, at parting,
that there was no need to tell Sir Percival of her
coming here. I thought that rather an odd
remark lo make, eepecuUf tn a pusoa iu n^ rcspoQsihle
sRuation."
I thought it on. oddrwnaik, too. SirBereival
had oertaiuly led ne to believe, at Liatnieridge,
that the most pEwfeoteo^dBiioeexiatod between:
himself and Mrs. Catheriok. ^ If that was the
case, why should she be anxious to have her
visit, at Blat^imter Park k^ a secret from
him ?
" Probably," I aud, seeing that the honaekeeper
expected me to give my opiniou on
Mrs. Catherick's parting words ; " prooably, die
thought the anaounoemeut of her visit might
vex Sir Percival to no purpose, by reminding
him that her lost daughter was not found yet,
Did she talk much on tiiat subject ?"
" Very little," replied the housekeeper. " She
talked priucipally of Sir Percival, and asked a
great many questious about where be had been
travelling, and what sort of lady hie newwiCs
was. She seemed to be more s(Hired and put
out than distressed, by failing to find any traces
of her daughter-in these.parts. 'I give her up,'
were the last words ahe said tbat I can remember;'
I give hor np, ma'am,, for lost.* And from
fliaf, she passed at once to her questions about
Lndy Glyne; wanting to know if she was a
handsome, amiable lady, comely and healthy and
youiig Ah, dear! I thought how it would
end. Look, Miss Halcombe ! the poor thmg is
ont of its misery at last!"
The dog was dead. It had given a faint,
sobbing cry, it,had suffered aa instant's conrulsion
of the limbs, just as those last words,
" comely and healthy and young," dropped from
the housekeeper's tips. The cJiange bad happened
witb startling saddeimeas—in onemoment,
the creatuiie lay liHless under our baads.
Eight o'clock. I liave just returned from
dining down stairs, in solitary state. The sunset
is buniiiig redlj on tJie wilderacss of trees
that I see from my window; and I am poring
over my joucLal again, to calm ny impatience
for the return of thk Icavellers. They ou^t to
liave arrived, by jay calculations, before litis.
How StiU and lonely the house is in the drowsy
evening quiet 1 Ob, me! how mauy minutes
more before I hear tiie carriage-wheels aad run
down stairs to flud myself in Laura's amis ?
The poor little dog! I wish my firat day at
Blackwater Park had not beeu associated witb
death—though it is only the death of s stray
animal.
Welminghara—I see, ou looking back through
these private pages of mine, that Wdmingham
is the name of the place where Mrs. Catherick
lives. Her nati»-i» atiU in my posvi
note in a&sviir'tO'tbat totter :i'r
daughter wbieh Sir Percival < '•
One of thon dm, w4ien I c i ^,.
portunity, Iwill take tlie nn' y
of istroductioD, and try w)i. '.{
Mrs. Catherick st a jiersonul i
nndecstand ber-wkliingto coi^^^^ .... ^.-^v. IQ
this pilw:e from Sir PenoviBaffaiowiad)^; and I
don't feel half so sure, esitiivlvusdeeepcr tnat
to do, that her dang^itar Aoiae is not in the
ndgUbomiteod, .after all. What would Waller
Hartruht linve said in this>emQrgeiiDy ? Poor,
dear ^oitriglitl I am beginnii^ to fori tho
nant of his lionest advice and hia wilUng hdp,
already.
Sunely, I heard sometiungP Tes! there is a
bustle of footsteps below stairs. I honr tbs
horses* feet; T bear the'railing of wheels. Away
with my jonmal and my pen and ink! Iiu
travellers have retiumed—my darling Lomii it
home again at Ust I
TURKISH SHOPS AND SHOWEEEPBHS.
I AM uot gouif just yet to -prononiKio •
tolismanic te:^ of the £oDan as an "Open,
Sesame!" and then ploage, bohllyand aiiveQturously,
out of the fiery sun into tbe dim vault B
of the Const onlinople bazaars; I am nuRiy
going to stroll throi^ tbe narrow, steep strecU
of the Sick Man'«'City, -SHOPWNG,
I asanot about tosaythat London .walking; ii
dull walking, when to me, well as I know, ad
much as I love, the pure green countrv, Fleetstreet
is always fairy-land, and Regent-street enchanted
ground; bnt still I tbiuk Eu|^ish ahops
are not to be compared to those of Sruinb^, in
their power of affording ploasure and aimucmrnt
to the itinerant traveller and poetical or ardBtie
vagaboudiser, for reasons I will disclose anon.
London shops, partieukrly your cork lei^ 5liD{^
yonr glass.eye shop, your Christmas toy rfioji,
your seal engraver's shop, fumishiBretty material
to the thongltfful humorist (and win can bcarttJ
humoristwithout being thoughtful); but f licnya
have to bkrat ycnvr nose against glass, alresdj
opaquely steamed withyouthtul breath, ort'jsneilt
about doorways, at tlie imminent risk of being
suspected as a swell ntabsman, en* a crncksmin,
whereas in the Orient.shops, all ie ojien nir life.
The shops have tbe lids off; they one pics without
crust, Thegoods arelaidomt onslojiiiig sliihi,
saeh as onr English fiahmongera use to display
their icbthyologioai specimens npon; they
are small bulklieads, or mere ii^encratly narw*
open stalls, without doors or windows, and wi*
limited plstrem camiters, upon wluch robed taa
turbaned Turks sit, as if they had been acting
stories from the Aiabian Nights in privite
theatricals'the night before, and hod oot yet boo
time to change their clothes. Those grave a'w
reverend seigniors are always to bc seen silt"
cross!ecged, generally smoking (Ali Baba
Mustapha), am half dozing, takii^ a quiet,'
hurried, kind, aad coatemplatrve view of 1'
^^

Donkeys may pass and bump i^ainst tbe
door-iKJSts, ihieves may ruu by (as 1 have seen
litem), pursued by angry soldiers ^^th drawu
uud flashing sabres, the Sick Man hiiiiself mav
ride past, bad, and hopeless, and felon-faced, with
the amba^siidors he is so sick of—mortally siob
of—al his elbows, still, nothing moves oor fricml
m the decent, unruffled mushroom button of
a white or ^cen turban. If a Jab's messenger
were tu come in and say tbat his thirtvthird-wire
was dead, or that fire from Allah had
burnt down his villa at Bnyukdcrc, the most
Mustaph* would do would 6e to lill hs pipe
rather quickcT thau nsiiiil, and puffing a Jiille
(aster than usual, to tell his bends, mid ourse the
iufidels all over the world.
A Turkiah ^ophoBperls^oods never project
into the road ; he hns no outside counter, like cnif
vendors of old books; he has uo old clothes and
rogimeutuls fluttering obtrusively ima bankropt,
Huicide way at his outer doors. 'His litlle quiet
shop is fiush with the roadside wall, and, sell he
mouthpieces of pijies, clc^ forthebarh-rooni, or
fez caps, ihey are allloeirt iuside tbe little bin of
a shop, on the fioor of wluch, and at tlic cafcrauae
of n bicb, sits the I'ork, tlic. master, with his red
slippers before him.
iircd of travellers' generalities, and really
ALL THE YEAR ROCKD. :iM>iu(rii,i«w.} 303
that lead to tbem and from tbem, that face Ihem,
that back tlicni, that bring them cnHtoniers,
that lame the said customers they take away.
In like manner as'the nineteenth century Turk
is one and the same with the Turk of the
sevwiteonth century, so are t^e Stamboul streets
of 18G0 much what the Stamboul streets mnst
have been in 1660. Drive the Turk bock tomorrow
to his Asian tent, and be would be as
fit for it as ever he wns. Turn him out to-morrow
from tlie city he (dole from Christianity,
and you will find the aame streets that you
would have found when Busbequins or Grelot
visited Tiirkt^'—no better, no worse. In fact,
cramp a Moslem in Paris boots'till corns sprii^
ontallover him,piB0hlH3 broirn lists iu Joavin'a
white kid gloves, pqueeae him iu invisible-green
YoTkshireoloth,seent-him, oye-ghiss him, grease
him, Tniiform him as you like, tbe Turk will
still remain the unirnworable Chiusmaxi of the
world, his religion a dEmgerous lie, his polygamy
detestable, every comrtry he governs adunghiil
or a desert. I longed to tell Mustapha so, when
he used to sit stolid and'divinely contemptuous
if I came In a hurry for sonre tufted Broussa
bath towels, n|ion which I know he wmUd have
bowed and wishednie peace, belieriiig'tbat IWM
complimenting him in my own tongue. I never
: 11?^ to paint truly, brightly, and minutdy could have becn*Bgry, howevo:, with Muatopha,
• I see, 1 yet knowsDorcelv how to convey a uidess he bad actnally stmck me er called me
•iii,'h impression of Turkish shops. Whether "dog," beoauae, however chcidiHghe is, he is
i ur BO, Ironst do it partly by negatives. snch a gentleman,, with his mildness and his
iiienot esaorDious!cdoared-ontgromidtlotws' courtesy; he never'does anything Indicrous, or
vi^lUng liouses, as in Loudon, but raUier gauche, or intrusive, orfusay, orvulgar; he la
. r.T-like, oae-storied oovci'cd stallsi where never pert, never pompows, but looks like
a turbanod qniet man, Jiided by a black- Abraham and'Jtniab, and Isaac and Jacob, and
i_iree;k, or Sat brown Amionian boy, who, King Solomon all in. one. He seems to be
' rent the good phlegaaalir uiiui osi^ his incapable of frct or worry, and' when he dies it
get dowu from sltelvos, or fnwn the inner willoe, I aan-sme, withoutastrag^, forhewan
d bin, tbe striped silks, the sandal-wood never fully nwadcc yet.
-. the aloes wood, the liippopotamifs hide As to the streets that lead to other shops
~. the spongy both towels, or wkadever it tlian Mostapha-A. In the first place, th^
liC you want.
are as narrow as Shoe-laae, yes, even tbat
II ooold, I found, hardly inragine a man R^ent-street of Constantino)^ which leads to
,• to cheat you who was in no hurry to get St. Sophia, or the Piccadilly that branches on to
.. his gold striped tdotlis, wbo requested the ffippodrome, is a mere rough path; and
lutuck npyour legsonhia'couuter, who sent Stamboul being, like Rome, a city of Seven
"III. lor lemonaaeorslierbet.,orealled'forpipes and Hills, half its lanes are five times as steen as
coffee, lusedalwaysto think, when I coiled my­ Hotborn-hill, London. Theyhaveno smooth slabs
self up to buy some soiall'trille (a little redpipe ©f side pavement, no kerbs, no iKups, no names,
' "I, or a [air of stippei's, starred with seed no guarding side-posts. Tiey are covered with
I, tbat Mustapha treated nie mofe like some wlittt is merely a jolting mass of boulder stones
^d Arabian merchant who liad come to thrown down loose as wben uncarted, or if
. u month with him, than a "loofing" ia- sound trottoir for a few yards, in another step
\riio was ia a bunuag hurry, and bad only or two ground iutoholea orcrashed into somo-
Lieign or two to spend. But wben tbat thing like a stoneinasons'-yard, or a pebbly sea
r.ible and majestic Turk, sitting with bis beadi bristly vrith gcolo^cai spwrimeas. H a bar­
^d alijtpn^ before him, began to ask me exactly ricade badjiMt been pulled down, and not yet
iwu huudred times tbe worth of Utat piiie and leTOlled, so ^\-ould it look; if it were tbe street of
I hose slippers, ray reroect for tbe tvadiBg in- a mountain village, so would it be. As ui the
sliucts of the patriareiial old bearded hinnbi^ days of Adam, and before Macadam waa thought
increased Iremendoasly, thongh 1 knew be longed of, so lire tbe streets still.
to spit in my ooffee, aud to toolball my unshorn To ladies impossible, to men terrible, imagine,
iioaa upaiid dowu the knubbly street. pins, these torrent beds of streets, moun-
But I cannot desoribe Turkish aliops and baiu defies alter an innndalion, or a land­
cnabhs readerste decide what age of civilisation slip avalanche of shingle, a continuous stream
': V bidong to, unleas I also deecribe the streets of ox-carts, water-carriers and oil-carriers, ass
/"

S61 [MTMwy U, un.]
^
ALL THB TEAK ROUND.
drivers, bread sellers, oarriages with Turkish
ladies, paidiu and thair moonied retinue, packborscB,
^^hil'^"«"l and Circuaian loungers. 'Then,
on ever; ncant spot strew praying dervishes.
Bleeping, conchant, or rampant wild dogs,
melon-stalls aud beggars, throw up ahove a ball
of solid fire and cad it the sun, and you have
some small idea of the delight of walking ni the
Dying Man's city.
But let us stroll down this street, where the
planes toss their green jagged leaves over those
eratmgs, and through wbiwi I see the atone lur-
^ns of tombstones, with, below, blue-and-gilt
verses from the Koran; aud let us get to this
slovenly, downhill lane, leading towards the
bazaars. In it we ahaU find nearly every class
of Turkish trade. Those Armenian porters, with
their knots and ropes on their backs, seem
smilingly to promise as much, when they offer to
carry Gome tbe English sultan's purchases for
him; and as for that, I believe the^ would carry
home a houae ou their bocks, if it only had
handles.
" Way there !"—what a howl of "Guardia
Guard-(iiah"! Just as I am stoppmg for a
cup of water at a gilded fountain, I am driven
into a mastic shop oy eight Armenian porters,
four behind mid four iu front, who are staggerin"
up-hill with a gigantic steel-bound bale, cou-
^erably larger thou a chest of drawers, out of
which ooze some yellow webs of silk; the load
vibrates on two enormous lance-wood poles, thin
at the ends and thick in the middh:. Now, for
a Diomeut, these brawny men stop to rest the
hurdeu, and wipe their browu, mgged, beaded
foreheads. Honour the sturdy industry of the
honest Armenian hammols^ who stop for no one,
not even tbe Sultau himself, wbo pass, howling
out a rapid caution, through wcepmg funeral or
langhiug wedding procession, marching soldiers,
anything, any one; and who, for a ^w pence,
unapplauded, perform the labours of Hercules
iu tlie Sick Man's city.
Attentive to trade interests, as well as to the
rights of hospitality, the Turk in the shop where
I have taken refuge, points to the heaps of
mastic upou his counter, aud I buy a httie to
chew, because I bave heard that Turkish ladies
spend the greater part of their lives in this
harmless, but unintellectual occupatiou. Mastic
resembles gum Arabic; it is crystally cracked,
yellow in colour, like a pale fiawed topaz, and
has uo taste at all to meution. It produces no
effect, opiate or otherwise, and for all I could
sec, I ought as well have spent my time sucking
a little pebble, as schoolboys do wheu they are
going to ruu a race, and want to improve their
" wind." It lasted me about half an hour, till I
got to the square of Bajazet. At the end of that
time, I got alarmed, and taking it out of my mouth
and looking at it, I found it changed to a sodden
opaque lump of a dull white coloui', which tasted
like chewed india-mbber; so I flipped it at a
street dog in disgust, and the street dog swallowed
it immediately, as he would have done, no
doubt, had I thrown him a shocing-hom or a
pair of old braces.
My Turk now wanted mo to buy soiix :.. u i
powder for the ladies of my hnrecm. bul 1 d. -
clined, upon which he chipped his hands, as \(
to call his negro boy, and m bounded a bushy
white cat that ne had dyed a rose pink to prov'u
the excellence of his drugs ; but eveu this did
not induce me to buy anything, for a clog shop
next door tbcnallured me,aud I stopped to sec the
apprentices witb short adzes cleaving the wood,
with which they fashioned the wooden sole, ami
tbe stilted supports of the " chopines," on which
the Turkish ladies clatter across the cold marble
floor of their fountoin-spriuklcd bath-rooms into
the inner cells, where they disappear in a
cloud of bot steam, from which merry laughmg
and the splashing^of water is heard at intervals.
This is quite a West-end shop for Turkey, and
they sell all kinds of bath clogs here, from the
plaia wooden to the rich polished jtain, that are
lozeu^d and starred with mother-of-pearl, in a
stylent for Zobeide herself.
How quiet and industrious the workmen oral
twice as vigorous as Spaniards, aud patiently en.
joying the labour, with scarcely even^an eye for
passing scenes m the street. No plate-glaas herej
no varnished brackets, no pattern dwarf boot, or
skeleton bone foot; nothing but chips and ahar*
ings, and split, spht, hammer, hammer; amonst
work behind, wilh some curious glue, is iasertiof;
tbe patterns of pearl into the wooden shibi
cleverly enough.
A pipe-shop next. Oue Nubian and three
young Turks, with a patriarch watching them,
while he does the finer work himself. One
turban and three scarlet fezes, all cross-lc^ed,
and the Nubian holding his work between his
bare feet, for bis toes are handier than many
men's fingers. Good-natured, like all his race,
a chronic grm of unctuous content is on his
face. A worse specimen of a slave for platform
aud infiammatory purposes could not be found.
The shop is not much bigger than six cobblers'
stalls thrown into oue, and the wall at the back
is liued with pipe-stems, that rest against it like
so mauy javelins. They are surely old Arab
spear-shafts, pierced for new and more peaceful
purposes. The dark-red ones are cherry atenw
from Asia Minor ; the rough light-brown ones,
jasmin saplings from Albania. They are about
five feet long, and form the real chibouk th»t
the Turk loves when it is finished off with i
small red lea-cup of a bowl, and that bowl is
crammed with the choicest tobacco of Siilonica.
But what are those coloured coils, like variegated
eels, that twine and curl on the floor—for
this is not a serpent charmer's ? Those, innoMnt
Frank, making a Guy of thyself with tliat hoodaging
of white muslia around thy wide-awake,
are the tubes of narghiles, that the TorkB
love even more than tbe chibouk to smoke, because
it is handier for small rooms, aud does not
require an orbit of five feet to each puffer.
Look opposite at that coffee-shop, which is the
Turkish tavern: see those four men. Tbey :^:
mere poor men, but they eome in to lunch oH
farthing cup of eoffee, withont milk or su?
aud a puff of a narghQe. How dignified tin
-y^

CIiatteiDickCDi.] ALL THE lEAR ROUND. [FAra«7ll. IW.] 365
ait, till the globular bottles with the tubes coiled
round them, are brought, the tobacco burning red
above on its little cup of charcoal. See, only a
dozen puffs, and the pure water from the fouiiiiiin
yonder is polluted in the bottles to a lemonade
colour by the smoke it softens, and its bubble and
gurgleissoothingtolistento! Milesof thattubiu^,
red, green, blue, and crimson, are made annually
in Constantinople. See how nattily the men bind
the tubes with fiue wire, to make them at once
flexible and endurable. A Roman alderman
once wished he had a throat three yards long.
The Turkish epicure of smoke has realised the
favourite dish, and tbe people are very poor,
what can one expect ?
Who shall say the Turks are bigoted and intolerant,
when here, next door to a baker's, is a
shop with coarse Greek prints, representing
Botzaris, the Greek hero, putting to death heaps
of Turks, and here are tous of illustrations, m
which the Turk i3_ always getting theworst of
it. There was a time wben to even delineate a
human being was death in Turkey, but now •
It was bard times for the bakers twenty years
ago, wheu you could hardly be a week in C!ou-
stontinople wilhout ^eing one of the tribe
wish by making his pinch of tobacco go further roaning with a nail through his ear, fastening
than any one else's. Now, having bought ten f im to his own shop door. That was the
yards of narghile tube, wilh a fringed end, do time when women were drowned in sacks in
yoi "fou want an amber mouthpiece for your chi- broad daylight, and when the sight of a rebel
boi Ktuk ? Old Turk^ think they make the smoke pasha's head, brought io in trinmpli, has taken
bitter and harsh, and therefore prefer the plain away the appetite of many an Enghshman break­
cherry-wood pur et simple, sucking the smoke fasting wilh 0 Tui'kish minister. But there he
throuo-h it, and not patting the pipe between {the baker) is now, floury, ghostly, and serious
their Ups at all; but taatea mffer.
aa ever, groping in tbat black cave of an oven
Here is the shop. Cases on the counter; within at the bock of his shop, or twisthig rings of
them, rows of mouthpieces, looking like sucked bread with all tbe unction of a feeder of man­
barley sugar, golden and transparent. The amber kind and a wetl-p£ud philoutbropist.
is of all shades of yellow, from opaque lemon to The fez shops are very numerous in tbe Sick
burnt saffron. Some of those more shiny ones are Man's city, for tnrbons decrease, though slowly.
only glass, the dearer ones have little fillets of They are of a deep crimson, and have at the
diamonds round their necks, and are worth a top o little red stiuk, to which the heavy bli^
purse full of piastres. Then there are dull green tassel is tied, aud which always, to prevent en­
ones for cheap pipes, and meerschaum cigaret tanglement, is kept iu stock with a sort of or-
holders for the cursed Frank, who had better take nameut of paper cut into a lace pattern round
care he is not made a fool of, for greasy Turkish it. The blocks, too, for fezes to be kept on, are
bank-notes are all alike, except for the numeral, sold in distinct shops. You see tbem round as
which it requires practice to read; and then there cheeses ranged in front of a Turk, who watches
are old and new notes, and had gold Medjids, them as if expecting tbem to grow. Some­
and Heaven knows what ebeatings, in this scortimes you could hardly lielp thinking they
pions' nest of foreign rogues and schemers. Do were poik-piea, were it not for the barelegged
you want rosaries r Here are talismans made boy in the background, who, pushing the block
of chips of red cornelian, and aloes wood for in- with the flexible sole of his foot, keeps it even
ceuse. But here a ruder shop, not matted, nor upou tbe lathe.
cushioned, arrests us. Plain beaten earth floor, Stationers and booksellers hardly show at oil
mde counter. It looks more like a deserted in Stamboul but in tbe bazaar, and there in a very
blacksmith's shop than anytbiog else. It belongs limited way, and in o way, too, that makes the
to a maker of vermicelli. The owner, ghostly Englishmauwishtheywcrc away altogether. The
white in face, ia brushing a huge tin tray round tailor, too, does uot figure largely, though you
and round. The brush must be of wire, or be see Turks busy in their shops sewing at quilted
grooved or toothed, for I see the coked material gowns and coverUds stuffed with down ; and you
under which the fire is, is drawn and cut into seldom pass down a street without seeing a
tubed threads, and be draws it out as it dries, Uke man with a bow, such as the Saracen of Suow-
so much carded flax, dexterously indeed. I see that hill could scarcely have drawn, bowing cotton,
he kuows when it is done by its threads snap­ with the twang and flutter peculiar to that ocping
ond springing up, crisp and loose, from the cupation, the slave behind half buried tn flock,
tm shield, (jood-natured people that the Turks or emerging from a swansdown sea of loose
are! He smiles and nods to me, quite pleased white feathers.
at the interest the wanderii^, spying out Giaonr The jewellers (frequently Jews) ore chiefly
takea in his performauce.
in the bazaars, both for safety and convenience.
Now, moving ou, I get into a strata of edibles, There they sit, sorting great heaps of seed
for here, at a' window, lolls an immense hide full pearl, like so much rice, squinting tbrough
of white cheese, looking like stale cream cheese, lumps of emerald, or weighing filigree earrings,
become dry aud powdery. It comes from Odessa, witb veiled lodies looking on, and black duennas
I am told, or is made of buffalo's milk, and is m yellow boots iu waiting; but still there
brought by camels from the interior of Anatolia, are also a few outsiders who sell coarse Euro­
for butter and milk are all but unknown iu pean watches with unseemly French cases, and
Turkey. At the next stall are dried devil-fish, large bossy silver cases for rose-water, or aome
looking horrible with their hundred leathery such frivolous use, shoped like huge melons,
arms; but here, where sword-fish were once a aud crusted with patterning, much watched

866 [ftbftwirii.M'i'] ALL THE TEAR ROUND.
over by the Turteah poliee, who, la bke tunics,
red fexcs, and white tromcn^ mode about
rat^Hf inglorioa^, ocnng for. the eraamented
bolster at tlisir tett, xa w^k their pistols
lurk.
It is not poflsiUs bo f^ Bp a Turkic street,
if it oontain any shops, without also finding
among them a furniture shop, where Chinese.
looking stools and lai^ chests are sold, theii
whole surface diced over with squares of
mother-of-pearl, frequently dry and loose wilb
extreme- age. They are now, wc believe, rather
out of fioshiou in tlie palvn on the Baephomi.
But these are the first-rate streets in the
lower alleys. Rotmd the gates of the Golden
Horn side of the city, down by the timber stores
and the fish-market, the ahopa are mere workshops,
and alternate with mere sheds, and with
rooms full to the very door with shining millet
or sesame, which looks like caraway seed; with
charcoal stores, and fmit^stands where little
green peaches are sold, the true Tnric preferring
raw fruit to ripe.
In these lower Thames-street sort of neighbourhoods—in
winter knee-deep in mud, and in
EimimeT almoat impassable for traffic, towards
tbe Greek quarter espeoially—you are sui'e to
find a comb-shop, a little place abont as large
as four parrots' cages, where an old tnj^d
Turk and a dirty boy are at work, straightenmg
crooked bullocks' boras by hcat,sawing them into
shoes, chopping them thinner and tliinoer, and
cutting out the coarse teeth. The workman,
powdered with yellow bora dust, perhaps stops
now mid then to drink from the red earth jug
that b bj his side, or deals vrith a mohabiji,
or sf reel sweelseller, fbr that delicious sort of rice
bloncmanf^e he sells—yellow all throngh, powdered
with white sugar, and ealen with a brass
spoon of delightfully antiqne shape ; or, he is
discussing a shovelful of burnt ehesnuts; or, a
head of msize boiled to a flowery pulp, eaten with
a riug of bread, and washed down with a draught
from the nearest fountain; or he is stopping, the
patriarch master being away, to listen to the
strains uf aa itinerant Nubian, wbo stands under
a mosqne wall yonder, with a curious banjo slung
round his black neck, tbe liandle a big knotted
reed, the body large as a groom's sieve and of the
same shape. Some blade female servantsiare near,
also listening, and I can tell from what African
province t hey are by the scars of the three gaslies
that, as they think, adorn their left cmeeks.
Close to where they stand, perhaps, is a shop
fuU of fleas and pigeons, the latter always
hnsftling abont and cooing, and evidently on
sale.
But sliall I forget the tobacco shops that are
incessant, that are everywhere ; upoa the hills
and down bytbe water, round St. Sophia and close
even to the Sublime Porte itself? In England,
Ihave always from a boy envied two tradesmen,
the oue the cabinet-maker, the of,her the ivoryturaer;
the one, dealing with such a dainty ma­
"^ ^
with a stock so portable and costly, the olhgr
with a trade so much palronised yet requiriuc
so little mparatna. Tne tailor fag;s hi.s eyes ont,
but the tobaeoo mercdiaot buys bis skiiifitU nf
tc^coo, or his Itntliem bogfols of t'' ^'
jibili, the patient hammal throws ii
his shop, he buys a tobacco-cutter,
scales, a brass tiara of a tray

Cbulei Dkkcni.] AIJL laiE 12EAR ROUND. 367
of a woman, and was ruddled, not merely painted,! an exhfluatiye slrtpe of its contents. Wliat this
wilh rouge ; the fair Persian had Indian luk eye- mau did witJi hypocritic reluctance, hundreds
brows, joining architecturally over her no*e; dui—as I was very well assured—without any
aud Scheherazade was white aa a wall wilh reluctance at all, under the protection and shelter
smears of paint that marred her onoe pretty of aEuropeaii's roof. They feel the prohibition is
nose and dimpling mouth. As soon as they absurd; they know (he Sultan has bartered IHS
were trotted off iu their little pea-gieen. mid gilt very throne for a champagne flask, as his fatlier
carriage, guardian iiegress and all, I went into did before bim; so, secretly they drink and
the shop, about which I had ail this time been are drunken. Indeed, I was told that the more
loahngly prowling, and called, clappiui^ mv philosophical Tiu'ks consider champagne merdy
hands, tor some violet sherbet; becaui>e Mussut- a sort of heavenly bottled beer: in the first
mnn tradition distinctly tells us that that great place, because it froths, which Eastern wine
Arab epicure aud seusualiat, Mohamed, called doss not; seei»dly, because it is of a dull
this his favourite beverage. And now do I greatly yellow colour, when their wme is red. Besides,
desire to tell my readers all about the flavour as long as nations choose the wisest, and bravest,
and fra^nce of Uiat well.and eupliouiously and best of their nation for monarch, must they
named drink ; only one thing prevents me, and not followbis example, and (saving the Prophet)
that is, that my Turk did not sell it, and no oua get wisely, bravely, and iu tbe best and most
else that I conld find out ever did, so 1 did not secret way possible, dmuk.from pure loyalty P
taste it, and cannot compare it to all sorts of Peoph: have often laughed at Chateaubriand's
thiugs as I should otherwise decidedly have French dancing-master giving soir^ to the
done.
Dog-rib Ini^is, and abetter subjeet foT'afarce
Wine and spirits would not be sold at all ia could scarcely be conceived; cmt all incou-
Stamboul—at least openly—but tlmt British subgruous tilings are ridiculous, when tbey are not,
jects claim that privilege of sale. Raki, a sort of on tlie'one hand, also hateful, or, on the other,
fiery oily anisette, peculiarly deleterious, is drunk when they do not excite our pity. So, apropos of
with great relish by the Greeks, and by those raki, and the 'Purklsh rnkes who drink it, I must
Turks who are lax in their religious ebservance, describe the small English tavern that I stum­
whenever they can get it unobserved. 1 am afiaid bled into just oui side the Arsenal walls. It
that tying dowu poor human nature with uune- was kept by a Greek, and was in tbe Greek
ceasory reatraints makes, sad hypocrites'Ofim^ manner ; but I found it was specially patroniaed
who find it difficult enough to keep even the great by the English mechanics whom the SuUan keeps
laws, and arc always inventing some excusoto slip to superintend the goverament manufactories.
off Nature's handcuffs. I remember particularly These intensely English men, of course despis­
one fresh bright morning that I was ou the. deek ing sherbet, which they profanely and ahnost
of o Turkish steamer that was ploughing through insultingly called " pig's-wash," and detcsling
the Sea of Marmora, and just sighting tlio raki because it was the secret beverage of " them
Seven Towers, beyond whioh the cypresses and precious villains of Turks," resorted to this grimy
minarets were risu^ in a great watchful army, hostelrie, dirtier than the meanest village inn in
guarding the creaceated domes of the still " dear old England," to wash the steel filings
sleeping city. The deck wasfitrewn with Alba­ from their throats and the sawdust from their
nians in their hairy capotes, with slavish-lookiug lips, with real expensive, oily, bilious, "old
tliievish Greeks, and with Tin-ks grave and Jamaiker"—aoold that the red andOTeen labels
I ; s-Iegged on their prayer-carpets. Here and on. the bottles were browu and fly-blown—and
: 0, aeated on the benches, were two or tbree with " Hollands," in square, black-green, high-
.1 Europeauised Turks, attemptingoumbi'OUBly shouldered Ostade bottles. It was deliglitful

369 [l*r«^ll,l«l
X.
ALL THE TEAR KOUND.
twice "pulled up" and nearly decapitated in a
row for not salanmina, " and all that rubbish."
And now, while 1 am in this tavern den,
trying to cat some horseflesh stew, there
staii£ before me a ran;ed Greek vagabond,
crafty as Ulysses, voluble as the winged-worded
Poriclea, who, in hopes o^f a stray piastre,
harangues me and the engineers on a certain
English pasha to whom he was ouce right hand
num. His gestures alone would be eloquence,
for he beats his chest, aud rends his dirty merino
waistcoat.
" He (English pasha) keep white horse, black
horse, red harae, blue horse, every sort horse ;
and I drive him, whip him, saddle bim, break
him, 'coa he (English pasha) Sultan great friend
—every day at palace. I too at palace. I eat
lamb, pistachio-nut. I eat kibob (very nice
kibob), I driidt shirab and champagne wine.
I wear scarlet jacket and fustanella—white
fustanella—servant under me—horse under me
knots, or gimffe knots, or gastronomic knots.
We should unhesitatingly declare tbat an inclination
to the Gordum knot betrayed a teudeniy
to diplomacy. Did Brillat Savarin wear a
gastronomic knot, and was Cnvicr'a winduipc
hidden by the giraffe P History ia ailciit on tnese
important poinla.
There have been dabblers, however, in the hij.
toiy of the neckcloth, who have collected materials,
su^^ested chapters, and run up hnsly
theories. There have been controversies on llie
origin of cravats, in which the focalia of (he
Romans moke a prominent figure, and in whicli
the pretensions of the Croats are supported and
rebutted.
How the neckband of the shirt grew into tho
prodigious frills of the sixteenth centurv ; Iio',v
these linen walls fell over upon tin n,
shoulders of the Puritans of the s>i ^
centurv; bow the cravats became u .
under the second Charles; are progresses wmcii
— money—drink — all right—all good. All belong to the future historian—to the coming
at ooce come wicked mau to English sultan, man.
whisper ear—say, 'Take care, Anastase bad The cravat proper, with its elegantly adiustcil
man, rogue-man. EngUsh sultan coll me, tell folds, it is stoutly asserted, was first brought into
me, flog me—drive out faithful Anastase-— Prance by French officers, on tbeir return from
take away horses—cveryting. Now, Anastase Germany, in sixteen thirty-six. As stoutly is it
dirty mon, poor man, thief man (laughs ironi­ maintained by Furetiere, against Menage, tlmt
cally), uo raJci, no kibob, no drink, no eat. Go the word cravat is nothing more than a corrup­
'bout ask good rich Englishman for little money. tion ot Croat. Tbe Croats, who guarded tuc
Thank, air (smiles), drink health I"
Turkish frontiers of Austria, and who acted as
scouts on the flanks of the army, wore Imcn
round their necks, tied in front, the officcra wear­
CONCERNING CRAVATS. ing muslin, or silk. When France organlwd a
regiment on the model of tbe Croats, these linen
WE must not despair. Everything willhave Croats, or cravats, were also imitated. The
its history told in its turn. Already English Royal Cravat was the name of a French regi­
umbrellas and French lamps bave their respecment to the time of the French Revolution. So
tive histories in print; theu wby should not the much for the origin of the crovot.
kind protector of the human windpipe have its We are reminded tbat the cravat did not
useful story related? The art of tying the moke its way suddeidy; sinee, in the archivM
cravat was written, some considerable number of of the Calvinistic college in Langucdoc, where
years since, by on author who signed himself the Boyle was educated, may be seen an order, com­
Baron de I'Empese; but, although we are assured manding the scholars to wear black clothing, and
tbat the baron brought the patience of a Bene­ not to indulge in canes, cravats, nor other thuw»
dictine monk to his works, ne did not exhaust that violote modesty. Bnt what would too
his subjeet. Could the history of the cravat be learned doctors of Puylawrens hove thonght of
told in a hundred printed pages, and with only splendid Louis the Fourteenth's cravats, with
five illustrative phites ? As well endeavour to scarlet and sky-blue satin knots, and tbeir
exhaust the history of England on a sheet of note- lace falb? Not thot the old Calvinists couW
paper. The worthy historiao of the cravat must have commanded much attention had they beM
consider the meu who wear cravats, and the iu the neighbourhood of great Louis; French
reat men wbo have not worn them. The vivacity and audacity had their play there; the
torou reminds us that the cravat makes humour of the moment wos the law of the mo­
the man. Is it not, then, of importance ment ; and this humour took its graceful tuna
to the world to Icam that M. de Cha­ now and then. For instance, the nrinccs,
teaubriand and M. de ViUfele, two eminent dressing hastily for the battle of Steinkcrq"'
statesmen, could never decently dispose their cast their cravats negligently round their thro;;'
cravats ? Could M. de ViUfele conduct o straight­ After the victory, charming won-.eu, look.: _
forward policy with liis neckcloth awry ? No. lovingly ot the victors, adorned themaelves wi'4
It is to the honour of the boron that, thirty gracefully careless little kerchiefs, and called
years ago, he discovered a new point of view tbem Steinkerqaes. Advertisers bave vnlgarisea
from which men might advontageously look upon these feminine gentillesses of old. It is ^'^'^
human affairs ; that view was from man's neck­ that Parisian lames wear, at this moment, ^
tie ! The wearer of the Gordian knot must have feriuo mantillas, and that fl^enrs are

the tradesmen who "inspire" Le Follet. These
will have their day, as even the Great Louis
cravots hod their day.
Way for the flowing Chancellor cravats of
Louis the Fifteenth's time !—they also mtist have
their day. Aud their day sh^ end at the peace
of Hanover, wben tbe Duke of Choiseul shall
command the army of France to wear stiff stocks.
Itwas a sad dayfor French ondfor English soldiers
when these instruments of torture were invented.
Civilinns soou broke through fhem; but only
to he bound up anew in the starched muslin of
Louis the Sixteenth's time. These barricades
about the windpipe were especially conspicuous
on o certain day when tbe National Assembly
met at Versaille*; the stiff military stocks, or
elegant lace cravats of the nobility, contrasting
strongly (perhaps ominously) with the plain
white of the commoners' neckcloths.
The Revolution tore the cravat from men's
throats. How could men coll loud enongh for
blood, in the days of Terror, with the windpipe
siiaeklcd by starched muslin? The Sans-Culottes
must have their throats free, for the exercise of
tbeir lungs; their enemies must have tbeir
throats free, also, for the convenience of La
Guillotine. Thns, tbe Marats would have
done violence to the cravat; hod uot Robi;»piene
set his grim, green head, upon a
column of starched muslin, mathematically set
up. The crovot was saved; and Republican
generals, to make it doubly safe, wore two—a
small black one over a large white one. There
were generals, however (Piehegra, for instance),
who disdained the voluminous starched bands of
Paris, How the cravat grew rouud the chin,
lill it threatened to burke the wearer, our
readers must remember from the thousands of
drawings of thiswildlydressiugtime. Men carried
their poUtical faith, in those days, rouud their
necks, The royalists distinguished themselves
by wearing green neckcloths. And we, in ouiturn,
imitated even the republicans. The first
gentleman in Europe passed hia youth wrapped
aliout the neck like a fresh mummy. Brumniel
must be approached witb awe by the coming
historian of the neckcloth. Was the delicacy
with which he passed his thumb and forefinger
round the upper edge of his spotless muslin
ever equalled ?
Let us treat this subject with the gravity it
deserves. We are told that in the year nine of
the Repubhc, the collar began to peep timidly
above the cravat. Democratic collar! which in
spite of Toryism in bross buttons and nankeens,
stoutly defending the cravat in all its integrity,
was destined to triumph at last iu that porticularly
demonstrative tvpe of the species known
as "the all-rounder!" But—not to anticipate
—throughout the Consulate, the crovot held its
own, ond grew, till the man was almost second to
the neckcloth. The Empire brought back some
of the lace of royalty. The deucate work of
AlencoD encompassed the throat of tbe hero of
Arcole on his coronation day. His senators
imitated him ; and civilians began to stmt about
with huce white knots, called ehoux. We are
ALL THE YEAR ROUND. rF.bu7ii,iteo] 369
assured that General Lasallc's cravat was thick
enongh to turn a bullet aud save his life; and
it bas been moref ban hinted that Napoleon owed
the defeat of Waterloo to the fact that on that
great doy he wore a white cravat, with a flowing
knot, " contrary to his custom."
His fall moi-ked the beginning of a perilous
era iu the history of the neckcloth. The
Restoration took to stocks. Stocks of velvet,
aud even of morocco leather, were adopted. The
cravat was at (lie poiut of death, when some
clever cheniisier gave it a galvanic apasm, by
attaching it to the stock. It was no longer free
to float in the air, however. Prodigious golden
pins held it fast, uutil after the revolution of
eighteen thirty, when it regained Its liberty.
But it was clearly in its dotage, and to thia hour
it remains in obscurity, dreaming of the glorious
time when it encircled the throat of the Great
Louis.
One of tbe practical sages of this practical
lime has calculated that the man who wears a
neckcloth, and ties it properly, wastes four
thousand honrs in forty years upon its knot!
This same sage vehemently pane^rises the loose
neck geor of the present time. Fond of figures,
he bids us enjoy a knowledge of the fact (according
to him), that six thousand workwomen
make a good living in Paris, in arranging neckties
for the civilised world.
Gr. de M.—to whom wc humbly confess ourselves
indebted for some of tbe materials for a
serious history of the neck-cloth (whicii we uow
put at the service of any ambitious frequenter
of tbe British Museum reading-room who may
chance to read these lines)—Gr. de M. is not
equal to his subject. It overpowers him.
FACES DT THE FIEE.
I WATCH the drowsy night expire,
And Fancy paints at my desire,
Her magic pictures in the Gre.
An island-farm 'mid seas of com,
Swayed by the wandering breath of mom,
The happy spot where I was born.
The picture fadeth in its place;
Amid the glow I seem to trace
The shifting semblance of a face.
'TIS now a little childish form,
Red lips for kisses pouted warm,
Aud elf-locks tangled in the storm.
Tis now a grave and gentle maid.
At her own beauty half afraid,
Shrinking, yet willing to be stayed.
'Tis now a matron with ber boys,
Dear centre of domestic joys:
I seem to hear the merry noise.
Oh, time was yoang, aud life was warm,
When first I saw tbat fairj- form,
Her dark hair tossing in the storm ;
And fast and free these pulses played,
"nHieD last I met that gentle maid—
When loBt her hand in mine it s laid.
Those locks of jet are turned to grey,
And ahe Is strange and far away,
That might have been mine own to-day—

Tlwim%bthaM

ALL THE YEAR ROUKD. [Fabnuj 11, UM.] 371
oreat allculion bestowed ou accomplishments al wholly impossible to explain this phenomenon
fliat hidy's establishment. Accomp!i.shnientsare by any other means than by attributing it to Ins
very good things in their place, and we all excessive and morbid philanthropy. He is for
kuow that there is no gentleman fworlby of the ever in the most delicate manner suggesting to
name) who would not prefer a brdliantly exe­ you that you are too self-denying inyour diet. He
cuted piece of Chopin's to a well-served Uttle is always giving you credit, in his htlle account,
dinner, and who would not fmd consolation for for supplementary sweetbreads, chops which
every deficiency in his table and household ore the chUdreu of his imogiuation, half-ponnds
arrangemeiifs, iu a water-colour drawing of a of beef-suet which were left at the door
rustic eoltiige, with blue smoke coming out of of your next-door neighbour. His mistakes
its chimney, a poplar or two, a half-dozen of always take this form j ne never by any chance
spruce lira emerging from its roof, and cleau attributes to you a sparer diet than yon bave
agricultural cliildren playing before its door. indulged in, or omits to post to your (//^credit
There is, then, no gentleman, worthy of the a single ounce of that thin end of tlie neck
name, who would not prefer occomplisbments which was really the joint banded lost Wednes­
to bou-sewifery—that ia an established fact. But day over your area railinga. Now, all these
then there is, most unfortunately, a very large things require to be vigilantly looked after, and
ckss of gentlemen who, in tlus respect, are un­ the wretches of men bave a notion that to attend
worthy of the name. There is—I aay it with to such matters ia part of woman's mission •
sorrow—a very large chiss of men who, coming Are my girls thus educated, with a view to
home after a hard day's work, would prefer the cultivoUon of those qualities which I have
fiuding a bright little woman waiting for them shown wUl he expected of them P Are they
with a smiling face and a neat and supervised (if taught that one day tbey will hove practical
I may bc allowed the expression) dinner, to a duties to perform—that they will probaoly bave
greeting of the most trium|ihant l^ind on the lo make the most, for some years at any rate,
piano, lollowed by a meal which save tokens of of a small income? It is astonishing what a
naving been bonded over to the exclusive core " most" may be made of it, by a little thought
of the servants. There are also certain abject men and good taste. Are they taught that one day
who would hardly be consoled for a aeries of they willhave to merge their ovm identity in
mistakes in the weekly bills, by the best water- some one else's identity F Axe they initiated In
colour drawing—as above described—ever exe­ the mysteries of cooking, iu the arcana of
cuted by amateur fingers; and, worst of all, butchers' bills ? I think uot.
there ore—I know it for a fact—aome men ex- Now, I hove to propose an Institution for
taut who, belonging to professions which tax girls, for their occupatiou during the holidays,
the head throughout the day to an excess, and and at the conclusion of their education, which
iu which a day of great effort is not uucommonly shall be somewhat aualogotis (the difference of
bestowed in vain, the work turning out a failure sex being taken into consideration) to that sug­
after alij these men, liable, from the tension of gested for boys in the article to which I have
the brain, to occasional attacks of irritability, already alluded, as appearing a short time ago
aud fiuding tliot such irritability is dispersed in the pages of this journal.
very rapidly by a few soft aud sympathetic My mstituticwi is, in one or two respects, to
words uttered in a woman's gentlest tones— reseralde that just spoken of. A considerable
these peraous, I say, will hold that, when this fit decree of attention is to be bestowed ou tbe
is ou ihcm, it is hardly right or kind of their boddy structure of thoae who should frequent
better lialves to take that opportunity to give it, ou its growth, its strength, its due develop­
Way to temper, to answer uiisympathetically or ment. My giris don't get up early enough
unkiudly, or even to keep a sullen silence, to re­ in tbe morning, they don't take exercise enough,
tire to the sofa and to a study of the Reverend they don't eat enough. They are inclined to
runchcou Head's last volume of Sermons. dawdle, to feel relieved when luncheon-time
Such men as I have hinted at above exist, comes, and the morning is proclaimed by that
and, what is more dreadful still, they arc by no fact to have passed away. They shall never be
means uucommoa. Uncommon ? I om not sure allowed to dawdle, or be idle, or listless, m my
but that they preponderate. In fact, if the institution ou any pretence whatsoever.
truth must out, I kuow that ihey do preponde­ In developing my notion of the " GIRLS'
rate.
Hei-iDAT OccupATioK IssTiruTE," I propose
But it will be said that a wife is not to do the that there shall be the following classes: A
work of servants. No, sbe is not. Bul she is Physical-Education Class; a Cookery Class; a
to do tbo work that servants will not or cannot Household-Bill-ouditiug Class; a Shiit-buttondo.
No household left to servants wiU prosper. Supervision Class; and a Mangy-Gossip-Sup-
Tliat supervision spoken of above, is indispenpression Ckss. Tliese ore to begm with; many
sable. Depend upou it the household arrange­ more would suggest themselves as the project
ments will never go on without it. The dinners advanced.
will fail, and the bills It is one of the Some of these classes almost speak for them­
moat remarkable things connected with psycholoselves and require but little description of the
gical studies to observe the tendency of the manner in which they should be worked. Tbe
liuinan mind, as it is exhibited in the Butish Physical-Edueatiou Class, for instance, proclaims
tradesman} .lu inaccuracy in liis accounts. It ia by its name that every kind of driU and calls-

872 [FAniur II. UM.! ALL THE YEAR ROUND. c

ChKlrtDIdiwu-] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Ptbniary 11, ISM-J 373
showing ii, shall be a prize pupil, shall be considered
perfect in thia department of the institution,
and shall pass on to the higher branches
of the Mangy-Gossip-Suppression Class, and the
Dre.'^s-Kcsignalion Class.
If the different departments already enlarged
upon are important, in what words shall
I speak of the necessity there is for the prompt
organisation of my establishment, in order that
the Mangy-Gossip-Suppression Class may be instantly
brought into action P Its working ahould
be of tliia sort. Talking of the freest kind
should be promoted among the pupils for a certain
length of time, after which they should go
through an exanimalion in connexion with it,
and the students who were swiftest to detect
at what particular points the recent convei-sation
had degenerated into gossip shoidd be promoted
to high places in the establishment, and should
be exonerated for a certaiu number of days from
attendance iu the Household-Bill-auditing and
irocuroble from the London shambles, never
fistens to any auch narratives any more.
Tbe instances of departments quoted above
will be sufficient to furnish some idea of the
establishment which I propose should be started
with OS little delay as posaible. Many more
examples might be given, aa, for instance, the
Dress-Resignation Class, in which young ladies
shoidd be induced to settheirbeartsou somenewfashioned
garment, aud should resign it at the
request of other pupils, who should be supposed
to personate husbands unconvinced of the
oeauty, and quite convinced, of the expense,
of the article of costume iu question. A consideration
of this branch of mysubject suggests to
me at once the inquiry: Whom do my girls
dress for ? Do my eldest girl, for iiwtance, who
is engaged to young Mr. Judex, the barrister,
dress to please that discriminating personage ?
Is it to please him that she wears a bonnet with
a great, hard, empty crown sfickiu" out behind,
Shirt - button- Supervision Classes — o reward which is (or was five mmutes ago) the fashion
which should lilcewise be conferred upon all , in Paris, and with a blazing rlbbou and rosette
pupils who had declined to listen to stories oppended to it ? Is it to gratify his taste that sbe
seasoned with that most piquaute of all sauces, puts ou a red petticoat with a steel cage under­
the disparagement of a dear and mtimate friend. neath it, whicii renders it impossible for that
The students in this deportment ahould also go young man to give her his arm when they walk
tiirough 0 course of instruction, iu which they out, aud which swept the cloth and the lamp clean
should be tought to look with suspicion upon off my work-table only last ni^ht F Is it to
ail such members of the Institution as should please Mr. Judex that she does aQ this ? Not a
conic into the room in a hm-ried, breathless, aud bit of it. I think I have heard thot gentlemau
fussy state of importance, saying, '* I've come, express, more than once, views ou all these
at great personal inconvenience, to tell you some­ matters diametrically opposed to the adoption
thing which I think you ought to know;" or, of the fashions just spoken of. The young
" I have just heard a report about Miss Lamb, ladies dress for themselves, and at each other.
m connexion with last week's bill-auditing, The details of my Institution grow uuder my
and as to the truth of which Miss Wolf, who is hands, and I find it difficult to abstain from a
well-informed ou the subjeet, is ready to pledge still more lengthened development of its iu-
herself at any moment."
teiitioo and the mauner of its working, than
Great pains should be taken with the Mangy- eveu tliis into which I have entered. The com­
Gohsip-Suppression Class. The elder pupils bination of public nurseries with the esta­
sliuulu be instructed to enter into plots with each blishment, for instance, is a thing that suggests
other for the concoction of some very intricate itself at once as desirable. All yonng girls are
story, and the junior members of the class shuuld foud of nursing, and the advantages that would
be lured in all conceivable ways to listen to oc- accrue to my pupils from an occasional supercouuls
of the same, furnished by all sorts of intendence of temporary homes forcbildren whose
persons, who should be especially qualified for mothers are employed at work, would be very
puiTcying the exact truth of the matter by great indeed.
Kuowmg nothing whatever about it, Then, in But whither, some one asks, is all this tend­
reference to this very question of the rights ing ? You are training up these young ladies to
and the wrongs of the dispute between Mesdemoi- be upper-nurses and upper-housekeepers. Not
selles Wolf and Lamb, who is there who could so. I am training tbem up to be wives and
approach the new pupd, little Credula Swallow, mothers. It niust uot be forgotteu for a mo­
with auch ceriaiu information as to oil the parment that my Institution is only supposed lo be
ticulars of the qubstion in dispute as Miss supplementary to those establishments where
Chiuk, who had it from Miss Keyhole, who, iu the accomplishments aud studies of which an
her turn, heard all about it from the next-door- ordinary education consists are done ample
but-five neighbours of the Peep-o'-day-boys, justice to. What I ask is this: is equal justice
whose estates in Ireland are in immediate con­ done to those accomplishments the importance
tact with the bog-country, which belongs to the of which I am venturing to urge ?
Irish branch (non-resident) of the Fox family, At my time of life I seldom or never go to
who arc related, as everybody knows, by the parties, but last summer I was persuaded, when
mother's side, to this very Miss Wolf herself, ot Cheltenham, lo attend one of these festivities
about whom the story is circulated ! Of courae, ot the house of o very old and dear friend. At
the new pupil falls iuto the trap, and^ listens to the conclusion of the party, as X was comiug
all this, and being punished by a week's auditing oway, I happened to look into a back-drawing-
, ot the moat mtricate (and greasy) butchers' hdls room whicii I thought was empty, and thereT

874 Ali-FHE YEAR ROUNT>:
[rn-rtt-trt^y
saw a figure wbidi I«liidliierer forget. Itwas aupp'"-"^ —' ""•
was a celemrated beantywhowas-tfans occupied, from tbe eye of the mui whose kinsm
and as I looked and remembered'whiit «he was murdered seewred to him quite a-snil,.
onoe, and what she might hare been, I asked snrance tliat Home was no longer a
myseV'wiietfacr timwvs a bril^aat termhiation to bim. Perhaps, also, he felt no desi
a career P
a city in which law and order wcro^
There is no-dressin thewardiouse of Messrs. to bc paramount. 60 he cfftne frcBB^^
Howell and James which will so set aff and sence of Bixlus, and told Vittoria T
decorate a woman's charms, believe me, aa that must seek a home elsewiiere. She,
garb wlitch she weaves abimt Iter by her own was ready enoug'h to tum'her back \
good deeds. There is no splendoor of deco­ for'Romewas begimiing, we are told. ^^^
ration which will win for her tbe admiratiou— baok on her. Ntit by any means, it n; 1
to pnt it on no ki^ier ground—which the derstood, because it was felt that ber *
reputation that she has ordered her household had been base, unwomanly, or .__ ~
WMI, will gain for her from all the world. because it had been imprmeiif, and*!!
There is no wreath of flowers, no coronet sagacity and judgment. "There is 1^
of jewels, which will surround Wr bead witb says the historian, " the tittle-tattle aiif
such a blow of glory, as tbisieport—that, as a of the Roman hidics about her, Om
wife aud as a mother, she lived without a fault. a person of Irigh rank, who had 'at \.
Let my girls once .get this into their heads. Let very fond of hw, conld not refrain froi., ,.,.,„ .,
tliem once feel assured that Ihey come out to disdoinFully, 'See, now, what that silly 1ml
more advantage — a million-fold—occnpied in Vittoria hag done for herself I She might havi;
their home duties, than ID the gayest ball-dresses been the flrst princess in Rome; and ahe lirin
that modem ingenuity can devise; once let taken for a husband a living gangrene, full cf
these things be thoroughly reco^leed, and I sores, and ftfly years old !' "
tlnnk I may answer for it Ihat the Ili^strar- It ia worth noting that to be the wife of:!
Geueral mil not have to complain of a decline pope's favourite nephew, even though jxin ini
in the number of marriages, and that SirCres- neTjliew be peasant bom, is evidently ili
well Cre»we!l will hove on easier time of it than the Roman dames of rank a biglier po,-:it •
he has had of late.
to be wife to the proudest and most po^':! M .
baron in Italy, And ia a society far tuo 1 • •; •to
recognise nonourablcncss as anything • i. •; .'
VITTORIA ACCORAMBONI. from profit and power, or to estimate ii
A TEUE IiALUM HisxoRT. Is NiKE CHAPIEBS. in proportion.to its productiveness of these, % I
examples of the Riarci, the Borgtns, and lb
CHAfTBK Vn. A WEDDING EXCUBSIOII.
Famesi, abundantly justify tiie correctness of
TffE remark of one of tbe biographers of tbeir appreciation. Vittoria's mother, it mayl*
Sixtus—the monk Tcmpesti—on the conduct of said, was of a different opinion. But the choice
the Pope towards Orsini, is too curiously illus­ before her was not between Orsini and a pope's
trative of the moral sense and notions of the nephew, but between tie latter and one who
time to be passed over. The' disobedience of migbt, or who possibly might never, become ihc
the prince to the precept foriiidding him to former. It is further veiy noticeable that tk
marry Vittoria, would have afforded, says the kidy of rank who calls Vittoria "a siliyfooV
monk, an excellent opportunity of taking ven­ (matta)—for having played her cards as she
geance for the murder of Peretti. But, barmg had done, evidently takes it for granted that siic
pardoned the flrst oflenee when cardmal, Sixtus was a consenting party to the murder of her
did not like immediately to punish the second as first husband, inasmuch as ou uo other soppo-
pope. He, therefore, intimated to him the order sirion could it be aaid tbait sbe might iiave been,
to send away his bandit followers, so that if he OS Francesco Peretti's wife, tbe greatest princess
disobeyed this command "this fault might serve in Rome.
as an opportunity of punishing tlte first most itwas aboutthe middle of June,. 1585, not
heinous offence. A serttiaeni truly w&rthf aad qnite two months after the electiou of Sixtu-S
prinfe'y.'"
tlmt Orsini and his wife left Rome. A pretext
The general coirrse of the conduct and ad- fw their departure—for such a step could not
mmistration of Sixtus, however, were such as with any decorum be taken by anch a pcrsonaire
to j«stify us in believing that his sentiments iu those d^s without a false reason to hide tii£
were less prmecJy than his admiring biographer true one;—was fouud iu the recommendation of
^^

CbSllM Dtrhtn. J ALL THE YEAR ROUND. TH, ;«!).] 375
his physicians that he shoidd try certain .mineral the head of a little bay on tbe western shore
waters in the neighbourhood of the Lago di of the lake, ot no very great distance from
Garda for his health.
Brescia.
Vittoria smd her husband were accompanied Ludovico Orsini, iu the mean linae, had gone
on tlieir joumoy by that Ludovico Orsini of ou to Venice; and shortly succeeded in obtain­
whoae dealings with the peace ofiiccrs of tbe ing from tbe senate the command of the Vene­
city the reader has already beoKl. He, too, as tian troops iu Corfn.
may readily be imagined, found Rome nnder Orsini and his wife remained during the rest
Sixtus the Fifth no longer a desirable residence. of the summer at Salo; wh?re, says the his­
Things were not as tbey were. Tbe good old torian, " he bu-ed a superb villa, and strove by
times, when a gentleman could live like a gen­ various jKistimes to ttivert his wife, and h«
tleman, were gone. Rome was goiu^ to the own profound melancholy caused by his infir­
dogs, andlie, for his part, did not know what mities of body, whieh became more and more
things were coming to. We have heard similar frooblesome, and by tbe memories of Rome,
grumblings under similar cireumstances, with a nnd df his own excesses," Tbe picture of the
similar impressiian of the aocuratc truth of the " interior" of Vittoria and her princely husband
last nf the com^aincr's aascrtioiis.
in their delicioas ^'illa in oae of tbe loveliest
Thia Ludovioo, who had thus fjdlen on bad spots in Europe, is not hard to imagine. OuW^
times, was a cousin of the prince; and being, wc should be inclined to suggest, that iu aU
as we have seen, a gentleman of high and nice probabihty the parts sustained in that dosaestie
feelings when the honour of the family waa in drama, as far as the efforts to amuse were con­
question, had been grievously p:uncd and ofcerned, were ratherthe reverse of the oast supfended
by the misjillianoc made oy the head of posed by the historiaai. Wc canuot but sus­
hia race. The enmilyarieing frwn this circumpect that. Uiese " efforts " fell to thesiare of liB
stance was, wilh tbat chivalrous sense of justice young wife, while the all too' unaoHuable
and fairness which is ever found nnited with patient was the princely husband. Perhaps,
the feelings that moved Ludovico, exhibited by alao, we might venture to infer t4»t thoeesweet
liim, not towarda the powerful and wadtliy summ^ months on the beautiful shores of the
lake beteved by poets, were not a period of im-
: fellow !" but whoUy ogaiioflt Vittoria, tlie mixed connubial felicity to the lady Vittoria.
itebicg. So tbat, ^r ber at least, this The reward of ambitionhad not oomeyet. But
addition to the &imtly travelling party did periiaps it waS'coming, and that in no very dis­
not promise to alleviate awy of the dis- tant future. That one's newly uisrried husband
:;i^e;d)le circumstances whjci neceaaarily ot- should weigh twenty stmie, and bavea"lnpa"
li'd tO'it.
consuming his bloated limbs, may in c«e point
r.i'arinff in mind Whatjjonrneys were in thoae of view be unfavourable circumstances. But
s under the best circumstances, ctue may from a different staud^oiut they may be very
'V that Vittoria, wilh ber diseased and mnch the reverse. After all, a wdl-jointurea
'kingly unwieldy husbtuid, and tlie hostile widowiiood, to be made tbe most of whale yet
: ii-'inan, who hated her oe t^eieauee not only iu the flower of her age and tbe pride of her
uf disgrace to his family, bnt of this exile from beauty, with the rank of a piinoees, and the
Iheii' homes in the world's cepital,ilidDot much revenue ef one, oDght be a better thing than
enjoy her " bridal trip." We are ioelined to to be the wife of cither •a pope's nephew
decidedly of the opinion of the HMuan lady or a great prince. We oan imderstand that
i :ink,J3id to think that there was nolhing, at the position of a wife may well have begun
1 events yet, to repay oue fox" uiuideriug' a to show itself to the b«iatifal and accom­
Husband.
plished Vittoria as uot the most desirable in the
It was in the territory of Venice that Orsiui world.
had determined on seoking a safe offjrlam and Still Vittoria could not disguise from herself
a liome. There had beeu a connexion of long that she had rather difficult csa^ to play. The
standing between the girrerBment of the great %vhole of tbe great Orsial dan were her enemies,
republic and the Orsini faiiuly,.iiieee than oue forthe same reason that snoved the enmity of
of the imme havingheld eominandof tbe forces Ludovico. From the Pope sbe hod little Teasou
of tho Queen of the Adriatic. And whanat length to expect either fiiwur or protection. Tlie Duke
the traveilers had arrived witlun a sliort dis- of Florence, and the powerful Cardinal dei
tttoe of the city, tbe senate sent nesaetigers Modioi, bis'toother, vrere hostile to her, on tlw
"~ lor'Onsini a guard of honour, audio puwic grounds whioh have been explained. Her own.
' bdo tha city. Thia, however, the nrinoe eldest brotlier, the only one of them who Ind
ltd; and tliinkiog, probably, that under all such a position aa could have enabled bim io-
ta oiroomstsncos the less of publicity attteading afford her any aupjiort or protection, had also
hia movements the better, he detennuied'ou'not been estranged from her l^ tbe marri^e she
eoiiip to Venice at all. Tumiwg bis steps, had contraeted in despite of his prohibitien. It
''•••rpfore, towards P-adiia, he hired in that city was a dreary outlook into ther futore for a ycrong
ii:igmfieont poluoe for his residence during beauty only a few years out of her girtiiooir
oming winter, and Ihen moving on in the And as her husbnnd's increasing malady bronght
• ion of the Lago di Garda, estabUshed bim- the consideration of it more ctlosely before ber,
ir the summer at Salo, .a lovely «pot at/ she felt that she should need all that the most
I
head of his house, who " had been bewitched,
C

376 ALL THE YEAR HOUND.
cautious prudence and self-possessioii could
effect.
Onini, to do him jnstice, seems to hove been
anxious, whcai the conviction of the great preoariousnne
of bis life forced itself on bim, to
aaka the beet provision he could for ber who
had been eitlier the partner or tbe victim of his
crime. Ahout the he^nning of November in
that autumn of I5S5, he made spontaneously,
aa tlie historians especially assure ns, a will
bequeathing to Vittoria a hundred thousand
to be too great a mnn to be contradicted. The
dinner was brought, aud once again the groat
body hod the pleasure of swallowing. Ths
prince, says tbe hiatorion, ate and drank ta
usual. But, scarcely hod bc finished his repast,
before he fell iuto a stale of inscnsibililv; in
which condition he remmncd till two hours
before sunset, when he expired.
CIUPTER Vni. WIDOWHOOD IK THE EUTEtSTu
CENTDBY : ITS PUDS AND CONS.
crowns in money, beaides a very considerable TH]S Sudden cataatrophe was a terrible hlon-
roperty in plate, jewels, furniture, carriages, to Vittoria, wbo seems to have been perfectly
Eoraes, &c. It was further ordered that a palace well aware of all tbe dangers and difiicullics of
should be purchased for ber m any city of Italy her position. "As soonas sue saw thot the prmce
she might select, of the volue of ten thousand was dead," writes the monk Tcmpesti, " tac iU-
crowns, and a villa of the value of six thouadvised Vittoria-fell into a swoou; and when
sand. Moreover, a household of forty servauts she recovered from it, gave wayto utter despair,
was to be maintmned for her. And the Duke oppressed by the tumult of thoughts which all
of Ferrara was named tbe executor of this at once rushed to her mind. She tliought of the
wiU.
loss of her present grandeur, of tbe necessity of re­
Having made this provision, the prince deturning to an obscure life vrithout protecton
termined on a journey to Venice in search of and without support, exposed to the rage of the
better medical aid. But a journey In this direc­ Orsini, deteated by Ludovico, by the Cardiii.il
tion did not by any means suit tbe plans which dei Medici, and by all that royal family. She
Viltoria had determined on. Reflecting on the sow vividly before her, her first murdered hus­
dangerous amount of hostility wliich would band, who upbraided her with the gfrcat lovi'
surround her on every side as soon as her hus­ he held borne ner. And this painful thought was
band should have breathed his last, and conscious rendered more insupportable by the conaidcra-
that this would be increased by the exorbitancy tion of the incomparaole greatness of the Pcrelii
of the provisions of the will In ber favour, she family, now that Sixtus was pope. Overpowered
bad made up her nund that her only safe course by these bitter reflections, which thus shaped
was to get faer husband out of Italy while it themselves to her mind, 'If only I had uod
was yet possible, over tbe Swiss frontier, whicii better judgment, I should now be a princess in
is at no great distance from Sato, so that at the the enjoyment of every happiness in Rome! I
moment of his death sbe and her property might should be waited on, coui-ted, worshipped hy all
bc in safety under the protection of the Cantons. Rome, instead of being an exile, a wanderer,
But tbe journey to Venice threatened to destroy wilh treachery around me ou sdl sides, and
this scheme, for it became, daily more evident odious to Sixtus, whom T bave so deeply out­
that the end was not far off.
raged !' Sbe felt so keen a pang of shtune and
Viltorio, therefore, strove to persuade him, despair, that she seized a pistol to put an end
before they had got tar on their way, io return to ner troubles. But her brother Flammio
to Salo. And, as the sufferings of the invalid in (who had joined ber immedialelv after her hui-
traveUing were greater thau he had anticipated, bond's death) struck it from herhand."
slie had not much difficulty in doing so ; though Her brother Marcello hod olso joined her at
the difficulty of moving, which drove him Salo, aud the first step they took was to write
back, seemed to promise ill for tbe scheme of to announce the death to her enemy Ludovioo,
gettii^ him to travel very far in the opposite who was still, it seems, at Venice, not havmg
direction.
yet departed to enter on his new dutiffl at
Onthe twelfth of November, however, Orsini "Corfu.
felt a little better. On the thirteenth his phy­ Prince Paolo Giordano Orsini had left by liB
sicians bled him, ond left hira with somewhat first wife, Isabella dei Medici, a son, Virginio
of better hope tbat, by strict attention to a Orsini, who was at the time of hia father's oeatli
severe system of diet, aud extreme temperance, beiu" educated at Florence, uuder the care of
some degree of restoration might be looked for, the duke, his maternal uncle. This young man
To Vittoria this reprieve was all-important, as was, of course, the ootural heir of the deceased
promising a possibility of putting her plon for prince; and the will made in favour of his
escaping into a secure asylum mto execution. widow, though it in no wise touched the im­
Tbe noble potieut only knew that he felt better mense territorial possessions, nor would, accord­
than he had for many days; and, Uttle in the ing to our mode of feeling on such matters,
habit of suffering a denial to the demand-^ of any appear an unreasonably large provbion forllic
of his appetites, and dehghted to find that any widow of a man of such fortune and position,
of chem were stiU sufficiently alive to afford him woa denounced by the famdv as monstrouily
the means of a gratification, he ordered, as soou unjust towoi'ds the heir. Their first step was lu
as ever the doctors were out of the house, that attempt to set tbe document aside, legolly.on the
dinner should be served him. Nobody dared to ground of its having been made at the insiigalin'
disobey or to remonstrate; so fine a tliiug is it qf loo violent an affection.
~7^

ALL THE YE.AR ROUND. [Folpromrr 11, IMO.] 377
Vittoria, when the first violence of her despair havmg thus shown her the vanity of all earthly
had ia some degree subsided, ou looking; round hopes and pleasures, and put the possing hoars
her to see where she migbt hope for aid, tlccided to profit in preporiiig herself for eternity, as it
on making three applications. Her first letter waa very evident that the Orsiui would not be
was to the Duke of Fcrrara, who bad been named content vrithout compassing her death.
the executor of her husband's will. Aud the The dramatis personie of this faithful extract
duke, it would seem, promised that he would, from the chronicles of the good old times, are,
and did take care, that any questions arising on every one of them, it must be admitted, far from
it should be honestly and fairly determined by engaging characters. Bnt the present writer
the proper tribunals, and that it should receive may mention, as a little bit of confidence between
full execution. The second letter was to the bim and the reader, that he, for his part, would
senate of Venice, in which sbe set forth her experience less repugnance in takbg any one of
friendless position, mentioned modestly her them by the haud—even the uoble twenty-stone
claims on llic protection of the republic as the Orsini himself—than this young man of saintly
widow of an Orsini, and besought the senators morals developed into a bishop.
to see that she had jnstice done her. Thia ap­ In the mean time, Ludovico Orsini had arrived
plication also was favourably received ; aud the in Padua from Venice ; and his first interview with
senate ordered their governor inPadua to see that the beautifid widow showed her only too clearly
she was put in possession of at least tbat valu­ what, sbe hod to expect of justice, forbearance,
able movable properW in jewels, &c., which was or knightly bearing from so illustrious a noble­
then in tbat city. Tue third application was n man. He come with a retinue of armed men at
more difficult one to make; and in it sbe took a his heels, whom he bade to surround the house,
totally different tone. In ber letters to the aud keep good watch that nothing left It; while
Duke of Feri-ara and to the Venetian Senate, she be went in, and roughly calling the frightened
evidently had not abandoned the hope of secur­ widow to bis presence, oade her give account to
ing the splendid position which her husband had him of everything the late prince had left.
intended to provide for her. But in the tliird, Having no means of resistance, Vittoria had no
which was to no other thanPope Sixtus, she repre­ choice Dnt to obey. But Ludovico, finding, we
sent s herself to stand in a very different position. are told, that certain objects of value which he
She appeoi-s to take it as cerlain, in writing to knew his cousiu to have hod in his possession
liim, that she shall fail in making good her claim to were not forthcoming, became so violeut in his
;i ny provision whatever under her husband's vrill; threats, that, bemg ui fear for her life, she pro­
ildos not even intimate any intention of resisting duced the missing articles, " and gave bim good
the intentions of his family; talks much of her words, and behaved with so much submission,
If iiiorse, and repentance, disgust with the world that he wrote off to the Cardinal dei Medici, that
iiid all its vanities; and begs of hia charity an there would be no difficulty in the busmess, and
;i[iiis of five hundred crowns^to enable her to that the whole matter was In his own hands."
I'uter some convent either in Rome or Venice. Ou learning, however, shortly afterwards, that,
It may bc shrewdly doubted whether Vittoria notwithstanding her timidity and apparent suh-
intended this humble pica for the injured Pope's missiveness, the widow had already mode appli­
merciful cousideration to be taken by him quite cation to powerful protectors, and had taken
literally. Sixtus, however, cither did not, or steps for the enforcing of her legal rights, the
would not, see any other meaning in it. Hiti noble bully was all the more enraged, from having
•ii-iter Cammilla, whose a^ony for the loss of her prematurely boasted to the Medici of his power
-I we bave seen, and who found it too hard a to crush her and her pretensions so easily.
~k to pardon the false wife, who bod, as she Vittoria, moreover, immediately, as it would
i'libted not, conspired to murder him, would seem, after this scene of violence, took the
fain have bod the Pope reject her supplication. prudent step of removing to the house her bus-
But, " Whot!" said Sixtus, " if this wretched oand had hired in Padua. She was there more
creature repents, ond wishes to spend the re­ immediately under the protection of tbe podesta
mainder of her life in God's service, shall we, his of that city, who bad been charged by the senate
Vicar, refuse to her the means of doing so ?" So to see that the will iu her favour was duly car­
be gave orders that the exact sum asked, neither ried into executiou as far as tbe goods situated
more nor less, should be remitted to her at within the territory of the republic were con­
Padua.
cerned ; and was altogetber, in such o city as
• Vittoria wrote also to ber brother, the Bishop Padua, less exposed to any hiwless violence than
of Fossombrone, acquainting him with the mis­ at Salo.
fortune that had befallen her. It is likely that Meanwhile the Duke of Ferroro hod also beeu
ahe bad placed no great reliance on help or taking steps to have Vittoria's title to the
comfort from this quarter. But she, in all pro­ chattel property duly decided by the Venetian
bability, hardly expected to receive a reply, in courts. Aud ou the tweuty-third of December a
which the right reverend prelate, whose morals decision was given on tbe various points raised in
had by this time, it is to be supposed, reached a her favour. Whether she would ever be able to
pitch of the most aggravating sanctity, told her, make good her chum to the remainder of the
tiiat since her present position was maerable, large property to which sbe was eutilled nnder
nnd there was every reason to suppose thai her husband's will, seemed exceedingly doubt­
• ISO was at hand, she ought to thank God for ful. But, as was always tbe case at that period,

srs
AEL TEE YEAR RODNX).
mhokaierj m^IaiKcr portion of the wealth
of ths mk anuBteiriii plate, gema, in all prfibability to haw already
workm a-okonge in the fair wuLmr's views 'as to
tbe desirability of endmg her days in a^onreat,
andosrtainly not disposuig her to f^opt.her reverend
brother's pwuB and fratenud node of
looking at her position and pros^ieets.
But if the.sentenoe of the judges' at Paduo
was of soffieicoit inpovboM to toake a notsble
difference in tbe-proefeots of Vittoria,.it had un­
happily a faUff prnpoBticinate effect in exas-
Mnting tiie rage and cnpidity of her enemies.
And thereeult wbidiioUowea in the powerfid
and pofinloiu walled city of Padua, under the
alrong and vigilant govemmeot of (be Republic
of Venice—by far the best of any then existing
ia Italy—is a notable and strikii^ sample en
tbe social life of the sixteenth ecstucy.
That same ni^, the ni^t of the twenty-third
of Deeenil>er, uie house m which Vittona was
living was forcibly entered by forty armed men
in disguise. The firat person tbey met wae
Flaminio Accoramboni, who was imsiediately
slain. Marcello, the other brotlicr,.bad left the
home but a short time ivevionaly, and thus
saved his life. The assassins then proceeded to
the chamber of Vittoria, and one of them, o
certain Count Paganello, aa it afterwaids
appeared, seized h^ by the aems, astshe threw
herself upon her knees, and held her, while
Bortolomoo Visconti—anotlier uoble, observe—
plunged a dag«cr into her side, aud " wrenched
It ujiwurds and downwurds until be found her
heart."
CKAPTEH rx. THE SIAJESTT OF THE LAW.
HAD the deed thus quickly doue, and quickly
toW, beeu perpetrated in those days in any other
part of lUily save the territory of the Queen
of the Adriatic (aud, it is fair to add, save Rome,
alss, during the abort five yeara of the papacy of
Bixlus the Fifth), this history would protebty
have been all told, and have ended here. But
the government of Venice, Willi oU ita faults,
did perform more of the duties for which all
govenunents are eslablialied, than tbat of any
of the Italian afatea of that day, and meted
out justice with an importialily ond a vigour
unknown elsewhere. How mucli vigour was
needed for the task, aid how hard o struggle
law—even in the liands of the powerful
and unbending oligarchy of Venice—hod with
lawless violence, is curiously shown by what follows.
The paucity of dates, universal in the old
Italian chroniclers, has already been complained
of. But with regard to the concluding facts of
this history, we are puzzled by the multiplicity
of them. They all, however, especially as given
by a contemporary writer, whose account was
reproduced in the pages of the Revue des Deux
Mondee some twenty years ago, mention days of
the mouth oaly. The dhurderof Vitton,,.. . ,
tofaavetakaaphioft oa theucfafc of the cveiin
third of Deoerobar: Anditbel^MMh-iifitantei:
the story na not douUiag that tlds vntlw lieembsr
foUewun tlu SoToidba if -r' -
Orsini died. Yet itr is hordly^powibl'
pose thst oil which raiwt bam &amH-i<
mterim, the protest ofoiast tl»wul, l;:< i .. .„
tatioBfi b^ween Ludovico and the Mt.'dict ei
Floreooe, t^ action in ths matter of tlie Diikv
of Fernua, and, dbove all, the lc§^ exuinirialinii
and dedsian of the Paduan law eoarls, ull took
pdaoe within forty daya. Moreover, SOIIK; of ilie
dates assigned te the remaiDing ^ete of (he
story are evidently erroneous. Aaeumiiiir, llicu,
that the date ofthe murder is corrcotlyi,n»i'ii,as
being tbat least likely to have been fotpittoii,
tlic remaining facts may beat batold, witliout
attempting any accurate atatement of Die dayt
on which they occurred. They uo dynbl ha\\pened
aa related, iraracdiBtely after the cuoimisaion
of the murder.
On the momiug following, the bodies of lbf<
murdered brother and sister were taid ia n
ueighb&uriiu; church, and all Padta'thronicedto
see the pitiml sight. The exceediug beauty of
Vittoria moved to frensy the pity aiid iudi^^ntion
of a people whose capacity for emoii-a '.
fostered and cultivated by every peeui .^ui
the social system in which they liviJ • •
expense of their reflectiveipowersami j:; •
They "gnashed witb thetr teetii," a^ '
toriao says, against those who could i.
heart to destroy so lovely a form. (': >
the news of such a murder was veryraiiiili <
all over Italy ; and when It readied K

Clurlei DleltMii,] ALL TME YEAR SOUND. »j 37!:
derer was probably no little astonished at the would be sufficient to convince the magistrates
measures the Venetian maeistratea were taking. llmt the easiest and beat course was to drop the
His Roman experiences lulLy jui-ilitied him in matter, as he had so often seen to lye the case.
thinking that ifc was quite ouL of the question So lie gathered his men 111*0 his house, barri-
tbat a man of Uis name aud sSation should he ettded doors and wmdows, and ])i«pared to stand
in earnest calle*! upon to aiiBwer for his'deeds. a siege.
And lie probably little thought, even ye t^ that The audacity, and to modem notions, the
the outrage hia bravoes liail eomiuittcd would absurdity, of au individual thus attempting to
bo foUowed by any serioiiis results. When brave the whole power' of the state, and that
ordered to put liis answer to the queBtaoas of sl'Ote V«iiiee, is to ns hardly intelligible. But
tlte tribunal into writing, he positively refused powerfoliaB the senate of Venice was—far more
to degrade hunself by doing auything of the [lowerful than any other Italimi government of
kiud. But he offered to show-tiie'raagdstratcs that peiiiod—and fully determined as the magis­
a letter, which ho had wiitten to his' mlative, trates were to vlndieate the outrage done to
the Prince Viri^inio Orsini, iil: Fiownee, in whieli.
the truth, SB far as licwas concerned, respecting
the latC'Occm'reBQes, was stated, and. wiiich he
demanded to be allowed to send. Themt^'jitrales
coneiUled on the propraety of at once
arresting Ium. But the presence of hia band of
armed followers, and^ tlic certainty that the
arrest would not be effected wilhait the loss .of
pi'obably many ilives, induced)them;to teflroorase.
He was permitted to send the letter^ wluch, of
course, represenfed' him as alliogether igjuorant
of the- means by which the Prinsess VSttoriaimd
met her death, and to depart from' the townhall.
But the' magistrates ^ve instant orders that
thegoftesand walls of the city should be^^uarded,
and no one pffirmitted, without speciel license, to
leave the town. They also caused the meesenger,
who was carrying Orsini's letter to his
cousin, to ba stopped aaaoon as he wos'clearof
the city gates; and, on searching him, found a
second letter; to the following effect:
"XO THE IIXCrSTIUOUS tOW^ THE EHDfCE
VIIlGnflO OBSINI.
" MOST ILLUSTRIOUS SIGNOB. We.have execiil
ed that which was determined ou between
n^; and that in snch sort, that we have.entirely
(lu|)ed the noble Captain Tondini [probably the
fliief of the Paduan magistrates], so that I pass
iuie for the most upright man m the world. I
•iili the job in peraon. Do not fail, therefore, to
udhere forthwith the people yon kuow of."
This letter -was- iimnediately seut off to Venice
by tke magistrates. And.the.same ovemug.(say
the contemporary aocownts, though, bearing in
mind the distance, about twenty miles, and the
usual rate of locomotion at that day, tlik seems
hardly credible) a special commissioner, Signor
Luigi Bra^adino, no leas a maU'than one of the
chiefs of tJie Council of Ten, arrived m Padua
with full powers from the senate, and orders to
take, alive or dead, at any cost, Ludovico Orsini
aud all his followers.
The lion of St. Mark was a different guess
sort of power to have to deal with from the imbecile
and corrupt successors of St. Peter, under
whose no-rule Orsini had formed his ideas of
public juetice. Things began to look very serious.
But still he could not yet imagine that it would
literally come to pass that he should be seized
ond brought to trial, like a common plebeian.
He thought, probably, that a show of resistance
y ^
their authority by the perpetrators of the late
crime, "at any cost," as their orders ran, the
•means to whicii they were obligedto resort for
the attEunment' of this end are a very significant
proof of the sort of difficnlties the civil
ipower had to anitend with' in aixteenth-century
Italy.
Luiffi Bi-agadino; chief of the dreaded Ifeu,
immedtabely on his arrival proceeded to the
town-hall, ancl sat there iu council with the
podesta aud etiptaiu mere than an hour, A
pi-ookmatiffli wae then, issued, calling on all
well-disposed subjects c£ St. Mark to pressat
theme^ves armed in'the neighbourhood of the
houae iOoe«pied"by the priuce. Those who had
noormswere directedto apply attiie fortress,
where-orms woald be diatribut&d to them. Two
thousand dacats were promised toany mau who
shonld deliver Ludovico Orsini, alive or dead, to
the captam; and five hundred daeats for any
oneof liis followers. Cannon were placed on
the city walls, nearwhich the house held bythe
enemy was situated. Boats full of armed men
were stationed on thte river, which likewise
passed near the house,- to prevent the possibility
of escape by that means. A body of cavalry
was placed in an open spot in the vicinity.
Barricades were erected in the streets of the
city, in ease the enemy should moke a united
sally against the citnzeus. And, finally, all
persone-who were-not armed were enjoined to
keep within doors, that tbey might uot run iuto
danger needlessly, or -embarrass th« movements
of the 'Ormed men.
It must' be admitted that these- preparations
for the asrrest of a murderer testify that the
Venetian government, if it declined to admit the
noble Signer Ludovico's theory that an Orsini
ought lo be allowed to do whatever he pleased
unquestioned, was at least abundantly impressed
with the difficulty of laying'bonds on so great a
man. Oneof the old- writers,indeed, who has
recorded these warlike dispositions, seems to
liftve felt that his readers midtt be struck by
theopporent disproportion of ilie extent of them
to the object iu view. Aud to explain it, he
enlarges on the'cousideral ion that the desperadoes
under Orsini's orders, though but fortv
meu, were all soldiers, thoroughly onned, occustomed
to warfare, and to desperate deeds of all
sorts, opposed to citizens altogether unused to
arms. And he seems to imply that even the
paid men-at-arms at the disposal of the city

S80
ALL THE YBAR ROUND.
authorities, were naturaUy to be expected to be
soldiers of a very different stamp from the daredevil
ruffians in the pay of Orsiui.
When these mamfold preparations were all
ready, three of the principal citizens of the town
were sent to Orsini to ask If he would surrender;
intimating that in doing so lay bis only hope of
meroy.
The noble felon took a very lofty tone vrith
these ambassadors. If all the forces assembled
against him were immediately withdrawn, he
said, he would consent to meet the magistrotes
with three or four only of his followers, " to
treat respecting the matter," ou the express
condition that he should be at liberty to retum
to his house whensoever he so pleased.
The magistrates, on receiving this Insolent
reply, sent the hearers of it back again, with
orders to assure Orsini that if he old not at
once and unconditionally surrender himself,
they would raze the house to the ground.
He answered, that he would die rather than
moke such a submission. So the attack was
begun.
The magistrates might, one of the norrotors
tells us, have levelled the house with the ground
by one discharge of all the artillery th^ had.
And they were blamed by public opinion for not
doing so, uiosmuch as the course adopted by
tbem involved a greater risk of the possibility
that the besieged might make a sortie. And
then, said the townsfolk, who knew what the
result might bave been ? Bnt the worthy chief
of the Ten, wbo, in the midst of his vigorous
measures " had yet o prudent mind," and did
not forget thot St. Mark would have a bill to
pay for the mischief done, when it was all over,
was bent on unkennelling the vermin with as
little damage to property as might be.
One or two guns accordingly were directed
agauist a colonnade in front of the house, which
speedily came dowu. This did not seem, however,
to abate a jot the courage of the besieged,
who kept np a brisk fire from the windows,
without, however, doing other damage than
wounding one townsman in the shoulder. Some
cannou of heavier calibre were then diiected
against one comer of the main budding, and at
the first discharge brought dowu a targe mass of
wall, and with it one Pandolfo Lesprati, of
Camerino, "a man of great course, ond a
bandit of much importance. He was outlawed
in the Stoles of the Church, and the illustrious
Signor Vitelli had put a price of four hundred
crowns on his head for the murder of Vincent
Vitelli, who had beeu killed in his carriage bv
stabs given by Ludovico Orsini by the arm of
Pandolfo. Stunned by his fall, he could not
move, and a certain man, a servant of the Lista
family, advanced and very bravely cut off his
head, and carried it to the magistrates ot the
fortress."
Auother shot brought down another fragment
of the house, and with it another of the cliirfs
of Ludovico's band, crushed to death in Hi^
rums. Orsini now became aware that further
resistance was hopeless. It was evident tliat
the magistrates were in earnest in their determination
to bave him in their power; and bidding
his people not to aurrender till they had
orders from him, be came out and gave himself
up. He, probably, still thought that the senate
would not think of proceeding to extremity wilh
"a man of his sort," as he frequently aaid. Ami
when brought before the magistrates he behaved
in this aupercihoua mauner, "leaning agaiiist
the balcony, and cutting his noils with a Uttle
pair of scissors," while they questioned hini.
When told that he would be imprisoned, he
deaired only that it might be in some phice " Gt
for a man of his quality;" and on tliat condition
he consented to send orders to his followers to
surrender.
Thetownsoldiers.fberefore, entered the house,
and marched off to prison, two and two, (jl iJie
survivors they found In it; and " the bodies of
the slain were left to tbe dogs!" Ludovico
Orsini was strangled in his prison the aanu;
night. Two of his men were hung the no.i
day; tliirteen the day after; " and the gallows,"
says the contemporary chronicler, " is siiil
standing for the execution of the rcmftiiiiiiL'
nineteen, on the first day that ia not a festival.
But the executioner is excessively fatigucJ.
and the people are, as it were, ^onised \n
the si^ht of so many deaths. So they Imvr'
put offthe remaining executions for o couple af
days."
Aud so ends the history of the marvellously
beautiful Vittoria Accoramboni and her t^i'i
husbands; a striking, but by no mewis iitii.;
or abnormal sample of a state of soi.'l-•
duced and fashioned, according to tin
and invariable operation of God's moral Lv,,-, .
the same evil influences, lay and spiritmilabsolutely
the same in kind, if somewhat niiiigated
in intensity—from which Italy is no^v
straining every nerve to escape.
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