We have a butler and an under-butler that have nothing to do: things standing in this posture, what are we doing but wasting those things which others would be happy to partake in the enjoyment of? What is avarice but the worst sort of waste? What is griping all to oneself but avarice? What is charity but a distribution? What is generosity but calling our friends about us, and tasting the good things which heaven has given us together? What is charity but a duty What generosity but a virtue? If I am to live in the middle of a great wood here, I must beg to make a few conditions.' Name them,' quoth Mr. Decastro. 'A few friends,' quoth she'Granted,' quoth he. That the boys be bred in the world,' quoth she Hum,' quoth he. The boys are young at present, but when birds-nesting time is over with them, what can they find to do in a wood?-If I am invited to a friend's house, though it be in London, I must have leave of absence for two or three months in a year.' Granted,' quoth he. Four horses to my carriage?' Granted,' quoth he. Be allowed the same for pin-money as usual?' 'Granted,' quoth he. Well, but the boys?' quoth she. What of the boys?' quoth he. Send them to a public school,' quoth she. Send them to the devil,' quoth he. The devil will find them out in private, as well as in public,' quoth she. Hum,' quoth he, and Hah!' quoth Old Crab, who had just come into the room unobserved; you have set up your wife for an idol, so come down upon your knees and worship her, you great blockhead! You will run all risks of my taking your advice?' said Mr. Decastro to his wife. 'I will,' quoth she-all the merit of the thing, if it turn out well, being mine. And all the blame,' quoth he, if the thing turn out ill, being yours also? Well, quoth she, but whose fault is it to be, if you are no judge, if my advice should be taken? If the thing turn out well,' quoth he, you will have all the merit of the advice; but if ill, am I to have all the blame for acting upon it? Come,' quoth she, we had best leave no stones to break windows, we will share and share alike.' But,' quoth he, you will not blame me if the thing turn out ill, because I took your advice? Neither,' quoth she, if it turns out well shall you carry all the merit at all events the merit of the advice will be mine.' 'It needs must,' quoth he, as well as the blame, if matters come wrong, be yours also. Look you, my dear, I have a right of choice to 6 6 do as I please, you know, you must needs lay that down: well, you give advice I take it or refuse it as I will-if I take it and it falls out ill, you have the blame of the ill advice, and I the blame for taking it. If I take it and it fall out well, I have the merit of taking it, and you the merit of the good advice.' Come,' quoth she, I'll risk my share, take it.' Mr. Decastro did so, and soon afterwards ordered his carriage, and wheeled off his seed to Eton College." Upon this comfortable understanding, Mr. and Mrs. Decastro jog pleasantly on, and leave the stage to newer actors; retiring altogether behind the scenes, with the exception of one little episodical farce which they play, amusing enough, but too long to transcribe; and Old Crab, though making frequent appearances, is no longer so prominent a personage as before. And now one of the most singular characters in the book is introduced, viz. John Mathers, commonly called Old Comical; being no other than the John Mathers who appears on the title-page as the inditer of the merry matter contained in the book; though how he comes to figure in the double capacity of author, and one of the dramatis persona, is a mystery which is not explained. Old Comical, returning home from the University of Gottingen, where he has been bred, finds that his elder brother has succeeded to the whole property, while he is disinherited, or at least said to be so. However, he takes the matter very philosophically, for he "sat down under a hedge and wrote a song, and, begging a bit of board of a carpenter, being asked to pay for it, he put three legs in it, and mounting the stool, sung the carpenter his ballad. The carpenter was very well satisfied with the song, and suffered Old Comical to depart in peace." This ballad subsequently stands him in good stead, assisted by the effect of his singular aspect, which is thus described: "He was so deeply marked by the small-pox that his face looked like a red honey-comb, so deeply pitted that a towel was of little use to him; and, being a neat man, he used to clean his face with a brush, which very much increased his natural floridity. Old Comical was as bald as a doll, and his pate was seamed and lined all over with a map of the roads: his eyes were dark blue, clear as crystal and very fine, one of which he almost always kept shut, like one taking aim, so he passed with many for a man of one eye, till he convinced them of their mistake by a sudden stare which had such oddity in it as made people laugh; he had a very wide mouth, and throat, so that when he laughed one might almost see what he had in his stomach.' After a series of extraordinarily facetious adventures, Old Comical arrives at Oaken Grove. "As people in decay run the farthest from those places wherein they shone the most in their better days, so Old Comical ran out of the south directly into the north, and after begging, ballad-singing, and stealing by turns, he at length came to the ferry at Oaken Grove: and dangling the horn in his hands which hung on the post, not knowing what well to make of it, put it to his mouth at last, and blew it with all his might. The ferryman unchained his boat at the accustomed signal, and when he arrived at the opposite shore, called Old Comical an impudent scoundrel, and asked who was to wait on him? Old Comical humbly begged pardon, and a penny, of the ferryman, and said, had he known the uses of the horn, he had sooner heard the devil blow it than he: the ferryman, struck with the oddity of Old Comical, gave him a penny, and forgave him his trouble, and Old Comical offering some ballads to sale, the ferryman bought sixpenny-worth of Old Comical's poetry. Upon which, Is there any charity,' quoth he, to be found on the other side of the water?' The ferryman, who loved fun and drollery, upon this took Old Comical into his boat and landed him on the opposite shore telling him that nobody lived in the old castle, but he would perhaps get a platter of broken meat at Mr. Decastro's, describing a farm-house situated on the left hand of it. Upon hearing the name of Decastro, Old Comical called to mind his old friend and fellow-student at the University in Germany, but not much expecting to find him there, he mounted his stool at the door, and began to sing. Old Crab, who was then at dinner with his wife in his little parlour, hearing Old Comical's voice, turned his head, for he sat with his back to the window, and seeing a beggar upon a stool, began to scold his wife for encouraging a pack of Comical, as what remains to be said of wards to keep the flies off his forehead, him will show." We have no intention of following through its mazes the thread of the story, which, besides being in itself not particularly interesting, and latterly altogether extravagant, proceeds in such an odd desultory fashion, halting for a few chapters, then leaping forward with an immense bound, then back again with a great jerk into a former generation, and pursuing altogether such a zigzag, devious, erratic course, that one might as well try to give a resumé of the plot of Tristram Shandy. If two people wanted to read the book at the same time, one of them might, without losing anything, begin with the second volume, and read alternately backwards and forwards a method which, as already stated, we were ourself forced to pursue. It is the quaint sense, the quaint humour, and the quaint characters, that give the book its value; and as we hope the reader has by this time a great regard for Old Crab, with his surly good nature-his rude massive integrity-his rough manners and his fine heart-his good principles and his bad language we will now extract a scene in which his visit to his Aunt Biddy (a highly diverting old person) forms a tolerably complete episode, though it has very little to do with the story. "How busy Old Crab was at this time! for what with setting his brotherin-law Lord Budemere's house in order, and darning his estates, and making his aunt Biddy's last will and testament, he scarce knew on what hand to turn him. "Old Comical was smoking his pipe over his toast and ale and nutmeg in the porch at the farm. 'John!' quoth Old Crab, 'come for orders:' forasmuch as it may be remembered that Old Comical was Old Crab's bailiff and clerk of the parish, and said Amen to all Old Crab said in church o' Sundays-John!' quoth Old Crab, 'come for orders.' Whereupon Old Comical made his appearance in Old Crab's little parlour with his brown jug in one hand-what! leave such precious liquor all alone in the porch with his brown jug in one hand, and his pipe in one corner of his mouth, and his wig turned bush for 'Master,' quoth Old Comical, with his pipe stuck in his face, 'here am I.' Old Comical smoked a long-tailed pipe in summer; forasmuch as the vapour, coming through a long vein, came cooler Comical smoked a short pipe in winter into his mouth, but the aforesaid Old to keep his nose warm, which hung over the bowl thereof with a purple chilblain at the end of it, for the frost snapt at Old Comical in winter time as if it would bite his nose off: Master,' quoth Old Comical, ‘here am I.' 'John,' quoth Old Crab, 'I am called into Northamptonshire to make my aunt Biddy's will, for she hath taken into her head she may die, it appearing by the Register, here, that lies on the table, that she is orders for what I would have done in ninety years of age: this paper contains the farm, and this purse money to pay the men for three weeks; bid the carter give Old Crop a good feed of corn, I shall set out for Northamptonshire tomorrow morning; take these three sermons to Dr. Rosy bottom, and tell him to serve my church three Sundays. A word with you, John: if you cannot sing psalms without making such faces, you shall sing no more; you have set the people a-laughing these two last Sundays: if you cannot sing psalms about in such a manner, you shall not without screwing your confounded jaws sing at all, but sit still in your desk and let others sing-twisting your chaps about as if you did it on purpose to disturb the congregation.' 'Look you, master,' quoth Old Comical, I sing with my quid in my mouth, and that is the cause thereof; the tobacco lies quiet enough in plain singing, but when I come to a shake the quid dances about like a devil.' Old Crab said that he was not at all pleased with Old Comical's behaviour at church, and if he would not behave better in it, he could order the church-wardens to put him out of it, and disgrace him in the presence of the congregation; subjoining, that if he found no better return for the clerkship which he had given him than turning the psalms into ridicule, and setting folks a-laughing in church, Old Comical should be turned out of that too as well as the church, and another take his office. "Now it came to pass that the next morning at four o'clock Old Crab mounted Old Crop at the upping stock at the house door; whereupon he smote the old mare with his oaken towel, and off trotted Old Crop with Old Crab and his saddle-bags. "Now, upon the arrival of Old Crop and Old Crab at Skeleton House, for that was the name of his aunt Biddy's palace, he found the old lady's carriage at the door, and her already dressed in her best tackle to go to a ball. Now at the time the clock struck ten, and the cock had been upon the perch an hour: Aunt Biddy,' quoth Old Crab, after the usual cereinonies of salutation, 'I am come to make your will;' and cast thereupon his eye over a gay knot of artificial flowers stuck with an air into the old lady's cap. 'Hæ, hæ, nephey,' quoth the frisky old lass with a smile, it will be time enough for that to-morrow, I am going to a dance in the neighbourhood:' when, giving her people orders to take care of Old Crab and Old Crop, the old lady stept into her carriage with a little more alacrity than her aged limbs could well afford, that complained in half-a-dozen loud cracks that they were in no such skipping humour. Old Crab sucked up his cheeks at the gay old lady, who scuttled into her coach too quickly to leave him any time for a reply. The next morning at breakfast,Aunt Biddy,' quoth Old Crab, d'ye mean to dance into your grave with a tabor and pipe? In the devil's name, d'ye know how old you are?' 'Past fifteen, nephey,' quoth the merry old virgin with a smile. 'Past fifteen!' quoth Old Crab; d'ye know how many fifteens there are in ninety? I love the age of fifteen so well,' quoth she, 'that I don't care how often it comes over.' 'You have got it in your head, it seems,' quoth Old Crab, that it is time to make your will; now, look ye, madam, if you can get the fiddles out of your brains I have a world of work on my hands, and could be glad to come to the business;' upon which he went on to tell her that he had a great deal to do for her nephew Lord Budemere, who was running post haste to the devil. 'His lordship should have come there long ago,' quoth she, for everybody said that he took the nearest way whenever he gets there, however, he will be sure to meet with a warm reception, for he and the devil are old friends; hand and glove, nephey Bat, on the best of terms. You have another lame dog to help over a stile, then, it seems, nephey Bat; but John is upon good ground again, you tell me.' 'Yes, but this is the most confounded business of the two by much,' quoth Old Crab; 'I have just written to the blockhead, and told him that I must put him on spare diet these ten years, before I can get this lame dog upon all fours again. I got disinherited, and kicked out of the kingdom, for giving that very advice, which, if taken, had saved my sister's fortune; that, and all the money the frugal old lord left, is spent: but come to the will it has been high time any day these last forty years.' Accidents may happen, nephey,' quoth she, 'accidents may happen to the youngest of us all.' 'Accidents may happen!' thundered Old Crab; 'ay, you may die in a ballroom, and be fiddled into eternity: the devil take these colt's teeth, how they stick in your mouth, old woman! What d'ye mean to do with your money? 'tis time you thought about it while the spark of life sticks in your old tinder, if a serious thought can come into such a bedlami.' Come, come, old Crab,' quoth aunt Biddy, 'will you never leave of spitting brimstone and sulphur? Will you never leave off galloping, dancing, rigging and romping amongst the boys and girls? answer me that, old female. What money have you in your banker's hands? Not a groat,' said aunt Biddy. Not a groat!' quoth Old Crab; 'why, how the plague can you contrive to spend three thousand pounds a-year? answer me that, ye old romp.' I never was a miser, nephey,' quoth the old lady; but you know, who manage all my money matters, madcap as I am, that I never once outran the constable: and, truly, what is money good for? how can we put a penny to a better use than to call one's friends about one's house, and make them all happy, hæ, nephey Bat? if one is merry and wise, hæ, nephey Bat?' You are merry enough,' quoth Old Crab, if you were but as wise, and old enough too to be more of the one and less of the other, to my thinking.' Why, look you, nephey, the more merry the more wise, that's my motto, though it mayn't be so much to your liking.-I give a ball to-morrow, and tonight I am going to a masquerade, so if you please we will come to a parish business as soon as we have done breakfast. I may die, hæ, nephey Bat? I may die; the youngest of us all may die, nephey Bat, ha, ha, hæ, nephey Bat!' Whereupon the old lass clapt her hand gaily on Old Crab's shoulder, and sang the following staves: [We omit the old lady's song as peculiar.] What d'ye think of that? hah, hah, nephey Bat?' A merry old cat!' quoth Old Crab. Merry! ay, nephey,' quoth aunt Biddy, ́ ́I danced four dances last night, fell in love, and dreamed that I was kissing my partner. Die! why you don't think I mean to die because I sent for you to make my will, Old Crab! I'm not dead yet, nephey Bat-I am not dead yet.' I will tell you a piece of my mind,' quoth Old Crab; the sooner you are dead, the better for the reputation of ages past; you may be taken for a sample of what women were formerly, and bring more disgrace upon our great grandmothers than their share comes to, galloping about at this time o' day to balls, routs, and masquerades; I wonder what the plague ails you, for my part, or what the devil is come to a parcel of old bones! Come, send the crockery away if a will is to be made.' Upon which the old lady rang her bell, and having cleared the breakfast table, the butler put an inkstand under Old Crab's nose, who, dipping his pen therein, and taking a sheet of paper, said, 'Now, aunt, what is your will, what d'ye mean to do with your money? Why,' said she, folks are apt to part with their money when they can keep it no longer: John, you tell me, is upon good ground, and like to keep so-and a man worth threeandtwenty thousand pounds a year has enough and to spare for himself and his children; there is my nephew Lamsbroke too is rolling in money; and as for my lord, he would spend Mexico in one day and Peru in another, and not know where to find money to buy a supper before he went to bed; besides, these good folks never come near me, never make any inquiries after me no more than if I had a ton of marble upon my bones-not they; I know as little of them and care as little; they all live at a vast distance from me,certainly, but a kind letter now and then would comfort my old soul; you have always been a kind and dutiful nephey, taken care of my money, done all my business for me, all my little matters, saved me all expense and all trouble, and moreover put three hundred pounds a year to my income by your skill and knowledge in the money markets-you, therefore, I make my heir, who ought to have all that John enjoys at this moment, if my brother had not listened, like a hot-headed fool, to Lord Budemere, who, to tell you a secret, was the sole cause of your being turned out of your estates: I tell you this that you may take no trouble in that man's matters, who has been the greatest enemy that you ever had to your back.' In the first place, aunt,' quoth Old Crab, 'I have to say that this thing is no secret to me, for I VOL. LXXXI. found a packet of letters and their answers, among John's papers, when I settled his matters, that told me everything; in the next I have to add that I will have none of your money, madam; what I have done I have done, but I will have none of your money: John lets me have my farm cheap, and I have improved my church: I have enough, and will take none of your money, not I.' 'Highty, tighty,' quoth the old lady, none of my money, quoth-a: why, you don't know what is good, nephey—you don't know what is good; not take any of my money! O' my conscience 'tis the first time a bag of gold ever went a-begging! For the shame of the world and the speech of the people! what will folks say if I leave my money to another after all you have done for me? Who will tell my story for me after my bones are dry, when some fleering coxcomb shall lift his foot upon my tombstone and say, here lies an old toad under a slab that deserved to be buried under a dog-kennel-how she used her nephey Bat after all he had done for her, a man that would ride five hundred miles on end upon a full gallop to come and cut her corns for her! an old harridan to cut such a man off with a shilling! My Lady Wixwax and I had a world of talk upon this matter the other evening over a dish of gunpowder-tea, but I believe neither of us heard one word of what the other said for four hours, for we both talked together the whole time;. seeing how matters were like to go, we agreed, at last, to take it by turns to hold one another's tongues in the sugarnippers; gracious heaven! how Lady Wixwax did run on after the ninth dish of gunpowder! I paid her off, though, when it was my turn to nip, though her tongue quivered all the while between my fingers as if I had got hold of the tail of a snake! Never trust me, nephey Bat, if I think there is a woman beneath the silent sun that can talk so long, so lively, and so loud as the old Countess of Wixwax. We came both of us at last upon one thing dab, phiz, that you was the man for my money; and if you will not take it, or take it. into your own family, I shall not go out of the world with a quiet soul.' What have I done to deserve your money,' quoth Old Crab, what the plague have I done to deserve your money? I'll have none of your money.' 'My name,' quoth the old virgin, will offend above ground. after my body is turned into snuff and my coffin into a snuff-box; I cannot abide ingratitude, nephey Bat: what did I know about worldly matters? I 8 |