Front matter
-.-^.ESO-E^X-i-Erfi* EDITION DICKS' ENGLISH NOVELS. Complete, lrom tne Original Edition.— Numerous Illustrations. LONDON: JOHN DICKS, 313, STRAND. FRIGE SIXPENCE. .-_>._ RT1SEMENT9. THE GEEAT MEDICIN^ ______________________________ It gives instant relief in HEADACHE, SEA or BILIOUS SICK- NESS, CONSTIPATION, INDIGESTION, LASSITUDE, LOW , SPIKITS. HEARTBUEH, and FEVERISH COLDS ; prevents cickly relieves or cures the worst form of TYPHUS, SCARLET, and other PEVBRS, SMAU POX, KEA8I.ES, and ERUPTIVE or SKIN COMPLAINTS, and various other altered conditions of the Blood. The Testimony of Medical Gentlemen and the Professional Pre.s has been unqualified in LAMPLOUGH'S PYRETIC SALINE as possessing most important elements calculateto restore and maintain Health with perfect Vigour of Body and Mild.
It is effervescing and Tasteless, and forms a most invigorating, vitalizing, ant refreshing beverage. DE. MORGAN.—" It furnishes the blood with its lost saiine constituents." DR. TTTRI.EY " I found it act as a specific, in my experience and family, in the wos Scarlet Fever, no other medicine being required." DR. S. GIBBON (formerly Physician to the London Hospital). -. ' Its usefulness in th of disease has long been confirmed by medical experience. I have been in the habit of . practice for many years. In hot climates it is of special vu. DR. SPARKS (Government Medical Inspector of Emij , the port of sites -. have great pleasure in bearing my cordial testimony to its efficacy in the treatment of mat;. and chronic form, of Gastric Complaints and other forms of Febrile Dyspepsia." DR. 3, \K".
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Chapter I. The Mail Coach
It was about half-past four o'clock in the morning ; and although the light of a new-born day was successfully struggling against the receding darkuess of the night, huge masses of vapour and of mist overhung the city of Amiens, and seemed to rest upon the m_.linish.ed towers of the cathedral. The postilion cracked his whip, and the mail proceeded at a rapid rate along a good and level portion of the road. In a few minutes, just as the equipage arrived at a spot where there was a low thicket on the right hand, the sudden report of a pistol fell upon the ears of the Eng lishman, and caused the guard to drop the pipe from his mouth. At the same moment the postilion fell from his seat, severely wounded by a bullet which had struck his right shoulder ; and the horses, instinctively perceiving, as it were, that they had lost their guide, immediately stopped with one accord.
" .Robbers at last !" ejaculated the courier, drawing a brace of pistols from a pocket attached to the side of the vehicle, and handing one of them to his Englislt companion. " But we will receive them roughlv, mor hleu!" The plains around were also seen us it were through a thick gauze veil ; and here and there, upon the pale green surface of the meadows, troops of cattle and flocks of sheep were discovered feeding on the dewy grass. That awe-inspiring and mysterious silence, which pre vails at the early hour of dawn, was suddenly broken by the din of the massive gates of the town creaking tipon their hinges ; and then the noise of wheels and of hotses' hoofs echoed over the wooden bridge across the moat. In a few moments the Paris and Calais mail, on its way to the latter town, cleared the glacis and merged upon the broad and open road, which at that hour was unob structed by other vehicles.
The interieur (or principal compartment) of the mail was empty; but nest to the courier, or guard, in the cowpi (or front division of the vehicle), there was seated one passenger. The words had hardly escaped his lips, when two in dividuals, with naked cutlasses in their hands, sprang from the thicket, and rushed upon the two inmates of the coup.., both of whom discharged their pistols without effect at the same instant. The courier endeavoured to reach his sword, which was suspended to the roof of the coach just above his head : but a blow from the butt-end of a pistol, which one of the assailants drew from his breast and used with no sparing hand, laid him back senseless in the vehicle. This individual was a yonng man of about two or three and twenty ; and his light blue eyes and brown hair seemed to denote that he was not a citizen of the land in which he was travelling.
He wore a "handsome blue cloak lined with sable, over a suit of black ; and his head was protected from the piercing cold of the morning by a seal-skin cap, with lapelles falling over his ears. A handsome gold chain, suspended. to his neck, communicated with an elegant little Breguct watch in his waist coat pocket. But it was his appearance and manners which proclaimed him to be a gentleman ; and the strong accent that marked his pronunciation of the French language betrayed his English extraction. "You say that we shall breakfast at Bernay," observed the traveller to the courier. " At what hour do you suppose we shall reach that town?" "At a quarter to eight, Monsieur," was the reply; " provided we meet with no accident to detain us ou the road." The English gentleman, encumbered with his cloak, and possessing no weapons to defend himself, made a desperate but useless resistance ; and in a few moments he was dragged out of the coach, bound hand and foot, and lashed to one of the wheels.
The robbers then com menced the pillage of the mail ; and while they were thus pleasantly engaged, the young Englishman had an op portunity of examining the appearance of the depredators. The first was an individual of about forty. His coal black hair escaped in small curls from beneath an old hat considerably flattened and battered about the crown : one eye was covered with a patch ; and the other glis tened with joy as the contents of the Englishman's well furnished trunk met its glance. He was still handsome — very handsome : but his countenance had evidently been somewhat changed by dissipation and the influenec of evil passions of a powerful nature. His complexion was florid, but weather-beaten — his mouth small — his teeth good — and his whiskers thick and dark : his chin was entirely concealed in a large red neckcloth which was tied loosely round his neck, in a fashion calculated to remind the observer of the way in which a traveller arranges his woollen "comforter."
The ends of this dirty red neckerchief almost entirely concealed a shirt, whose only recommendation existed in the reminiscences of the past : namely, that it had once been clean. His waistcoat was of soiled and tarnished silk ; and his thread bare coat was naturally and artificially of a greenish brown— a colour it had originally derived from the inge nuity of the manufacturer, and since religiously main- "Accident!" exclaimed the Englishman. "It is not very probable that the vehicle will overturn, or that the springs will break ; and as for robbers " "Oh! robbers," interrupted the courier; "I do not fear them ! The mail has not been attacked npon this road for the last twenty years. Some of the southern mails, are occasionally robbed : but the northern ones — never!" " Have you been long on this road?" inquired the tra veller.
" Seven years, Monsieur. I was a sergeant in the Im perial Guard, and was wounded at Austerlitz. My ser vices have not been forgotten : I enjoy a pension and hold the place of courier in the post-office department. Ah! Napoleon was a very great man !" tained through the medium of a constant contiguity with dirt and tobacco smoke. His trousers were of a species of dingy red, as if they had been dyed with a decoction of brickdnst; and thin straps stretched them very tightly over a pair of muddy aud broken shoes. There was alto gether an air of faded dandyism, insolent familiarity, and hypocritical villany about the whole exterior of this in dividual which produced impressions of a ludicrous nature, as well as others of aversion and disgust. In Der son, he was about the middle height, aud somewhat inclined to be stout.
His companion was a thin, miserable-looking, half-fed, half-famished individual, whose attire corresponded ad mirably well with his person. He was clad iu an old and tattered suit of black; his hat had no crown; and his shoes were singularly contrived to admit the fresh air at the toes. In one hand he carried a short thick stick ; aud in the other an old tattered umbrella. His visage was what has been expressively denominated " Ian tern - his eyes were sunken and hollow ; his mouth was pursed up as if he wished to render his throat air tight ; and his whole person bespoke a wretchedness and n iiich he had not the art to conceal by that mask of impudence which his companion so well knew how to assume. He possessed that species of courage which is only stimdlated by example : for he seemed to sneak about his present occupation like a man who feels that he idoing wrong, and is afraid of being captured in the act ige: — whereas his accomplice pursued his work with a species of desperation and philosophic coolness avhich seemed totally reckless of all consequences or con tingencies.
" Do you take charge of those baubles, Bertrand, my fine fellow," exclaimed the individual whom we first described ; " and leave me to manage the letter -bags." " All right," gruffly returned the person thus addressed, els he received some articles of jewellery from the hands of his companion. " What shall we do with these three fellows, Macaire P" "' Leave them where they are, to be sure," was the answer. " The postilion is only wounded ; and the courier is nothing more than stunned. I like to be economical of life : good people are precious." " 0 Lord ! didn't you hear a noise?" cried Bertrand, leaping from the roof of the mail to the ground, and casting terrified glances around. " No — it was only the creaking of my snuff-box," said Macaire, coolly conveying to his nose the dust which his finger and thumb had extract, d from the box.
" But the least thing terrifies yon ! Now we may depart, and in-pect our booty at leisure. I will carry the mail-bags : an honest man is not above an honourable employment." my hand will strike warmer than you like upon your back. Be more of a philosopher, Bertrand." " Isn't that a " What — a philosopher r " That oVjeet iu the distance — there !" exclaimed Ber trand. " No, fool," cried M " What is it, then?" iuquired Bertrand. " A bush," was the answer. " How nervous it did make me, to be sure!" Here the conversation dropped for a few minutes, during which interval tho two robbers gained the wood. Macaire no\v took the lead, and Btruck iuto the do | recesses, the avenues and paths of which seemed quite familiar to him. The birds were disturbed on their p of resort, as the depredators passed along; and th- I and the rabbit, as they started from their nooks aud scoured through the grove, impressed Bertrand with an almost invincible idea that the gendarmes were ut heels.
In the course of twenty minutes they reached an open space in the midst of the wood ; and Ma< flingiug himself upon the damp ■,. imed, " Thank heavens ! we are now safe. Let us examine spoil ! " "Oh! my precious nerves !" ejaculated Bertrand; "what will become of my poor toes ?" "Why— they will shortly be embellished by a pah of excellent boots," returned Macaire, " Unless they get frost-bitten in the meantime," said Bertrand, in a lachrymose tone of voice. " Frost-bitten in summer!'.* cried Maca.rc, disdain fully. " Oh— ah ! I quite forgot it was summer," observed Bertrand. " But what have you got there t" " A bank-note fora thonsand francs in a letter," replied Robert Macaire, who had already forced open the mail bag, and was now busily employed in examining its con tents through the very simple process of breaking the seals or tearing the wafers of the lettei s. "Well, I shall have a pair of boots, aud a breakfast tco," observed Bertrand, chuckling audibly.
"Here is another note for five hundred francs— and here is a third for five thousand," continued Macaii ■< e open the letters one after another; aud, white he. handed their enclosures to Bertrand, he every now and then stopped to peruse their contents. "A li from a wife to her husband, promi-inc: never to beat him any more, ii he will return home : that is no good ! Here is one from a son to his father, acknowledging a trifling forgery: that will not benefit us ! Ah! this i from a young man to his mistress, declaring that he is about to commit suicide, and advising her to do tin same. The next is a letter from an English thief who has gone to Paris to try his luck there. It is directed to a horse-dealer, named Jones, in some street in the Borough of Southwark, London. By its contents, Jones would appear to be a very useful kind of a rogue.
I shall keep this letter : we may want the services of such a man. And now, what have we here ? Oh I a lengthy document from a mercantile house in Paris to their correspondent in London. Let us read this attentively : any attempt to obtain useful knowledge cannot be eonsiu a crime." "I am ready," urged Bertrand, again looking timor ously up and down the road : "pray make haste." " Let me first pay my respects to this gentleman whom we so cleverly bound to the wheel," said Macaire; ami stepping up to the English traveller, he exclaimed, " Pardon the liberty we have taken with your property, my dear sir; but-be assured that you have acquired the eternal gratitude, and secured to yourself the undying favour, of Robert Macaire and his friend Bertrand. Adieu, sir ! One never loses anything by politeness, Ber trand."
"Villains!" ejaculated the Englishman: "my ven geance shall yet overtake yon!" Macaire lifted his old hat with mock civility from bis head, saluted the English gentleman, and having assured himself that the courier and postilion were not dead re treated from the spot with his iniquitous bnt more timid companion. The two robbers struck into the thicket, and hastened with the utmost speed to gain a wood that was situate at a distance of about two miles from the spot where the mail had been plundered. " I wish I had thought of one thing," said Bertrand, as he and his confederate ran across the ploughed fields upon which the thicket bordered. " What is that ?" demanded Macaire, impatiently. "To have taken the postilion's large jack-boots," answered Bertrand. Bertrand muttered something about his precious nerves and his poor toes, as he drew himself more closely to Macaire and prepared to listen to the epistle, which, his companion read as follows : — " Rue Montmartre, i " Dear Sir, — " We should have forwarded the accounts and bills of exchange as requested in your favour of the 3rd instant ; but deeming it necessary for the interests of both houses that some of their respective members should be per sonally acquainted with each other, we have resolved upon despatching our junior partner, Monsieur Albert Lebeau, to London, in the course of the month, to hold verbal communication with you on the various specula tions proposed.
We shaU, therefore, request you to honour any drafts or chpques which M. Lebeau may draw upon you during his residence in London— an opportunity of which he will also avail himself to settle aud balance thiaccounts now existing between us. If nothii detain him in Paris, M. Lebeau will leave for London ou the 30th instant. " Fool !" cried Macaire : " would they not have impeded your flight r" " Ah ! that is true," said Bertrand. " I never thought of that ! O Lord ! O Lord I ' ' "What is the matter now?" asked Macaire, impatiently. " The mud and water strikes so cold to my toes," " Your obedient Servants, " LALLZiiAxu and Co. answered Bertrand. 1 . was not likely to excite any other feeling beyond commi seration and charity. It was iu vain that Bertrand implored his leader to permit him to purchase a pair of boots : Macaire was in exorable upon that head ; and his unhappy associate had no other consolation than a free permission to deplore the state of his nerves and toes whenever an opp9rtunity offered.
"I cannot see anything so very important in this letter," said Bertrand. " To whom is it addressed P" *■ To Lumley Pocklington, Esq., Merchant, Obi Broad street, City," answered Macaire ; and for a few minutes he seemed absorbed in the deepest thought. " Well, what are you meditating upon, my dear friend ?" demanded Bertrand, at length : for he was wearied of his protracted silence. "By Jove! Ihaveit. 'Tis an excellent idea !" exclaimed Robert Macaire, joyfully. " Well, I don't think it will be bad," observed Bertrand, " provided it tells us how and where to get a good break fast." " Fool!" ejaculated Macaire ; " do you imagine that I was thinking of such gross matters ? No : I have already arranged in my head the most glorious scheme " "For supplying food impromptu?" said Bertrand, in the spirit of innocent inquiry.
"No: bnt for makiug our fortunes," returned Ma caire, pulling his dirty red neckcloth higher up on his face. "Bertrand!" he cried, after a moment's pause; *' Bertrand !"
Chapter II. The Merchant
Old Broad-street, City, is the least crowded of the bustling localities of London. Even at the busiest hours the pavement is not thronged to inconvenience. At the same time there is an air of wealth about the dingy-looking houses, which bespeaks the extent of the commercial operations carried ou by the tenants of that street. The very people whom you meet, betweenthe hours of two and five, wear upon their countenances a certain expression of importance and conscious worth, which you do not notice as a general rule elsewhere. Broad Street is not so much frequented by the needy spendthrift and the rascally usurer as the other purlieus of the Exchange and the Bank ; hence the individuals whom you. encounter on its pavements are the very select aud the best order of City-meu. Broad Street wears th_ impressive and awe-inspiring exterior of business, without its din and bustle ; and the rich wine-merchant, who despatches hampers of the raciest juices of Freneh or Portuguese grapes from his cellars in Cushion Court to some patrician at the West End, hastens to the nearest taveru at two o'clock to partake of a mutton chop, a potato, and one glass of porter, for which he pays eleven pence.
He throws down a shilling, however : there is a penny for the waiter. The clothes and the boots of the City-merchant are always clean. He invariably travels by the omnibus and carries au umbrella. He eats his dinner with his hat on, and reads his letters in the street as he walks along. Ho. is tho only mau in London who does not converse for au hour about the weather, when he meets an acquaintance. " You know very well that I am at your elbow," was the quiet reply : " what is the use of bawliug so? You make one quite nervous !" ' We will go to England, my boy !" ejaculated Macaire, starting from the ground and throwing himself into an imposing attitude, by placing his left on his hip, and ex tending his right arm, while he eyed his friend with a glance of the most perfect satisfaction. " Travelling will enlarge our minds, as well as our purses ; and as we both happen to speak English tolerably well, we cannot fail to succeed."
" To England !" said Bertrand. " Oh, my precious nerves ; how delightful that will be!" " Let us see what ready money we possess," cried Macaire ; " and we wdl then pursue our journey towards the frontier forthwith. We must embark at Dunkirk." " I have got four sous in my pocket," said Bertrand, extracting the coin alluded to from his old waistcoat. " Idiot ! have we not thousands of francs in these letters !" cried Macaire. " Reams of paper can be turned into mines of gold." "Ah ! I never thought of that !" exclaimed Bertrand. " Thirteen thousaudfive hundred francs," said Macaire, after a moment's silence, during which he counted the bank-notes that he had extracted from the various Letters. "That is five hundred and eighty pounds in British coin — a sum that will enable us to appear as gentlemen in the English metropolis.
Let us now con tinue our journey : a little exercise will do us good this fine morning." Bertrand rose, in obedience to the wishes of his com panion, and the two robbers emerged from the wood into the open fields. The sun now shed an invigorating heat upou the earth, aud dried the damp clothes of the travellers. At the same time, any unpleasant effects of his radiance were diminished by the refreshing breeze that swept the face of the country aud agitated the corn fields, which had not as yet succumbed to the hand of the reaper. Mr. Lumley Pocklington was a rich merchant, whose dwelling, warehouse, and offices were all in Old Broad Street. It is about ten at night when we must first in troduce him to the reader ; and at the supper table wit-h his family that we shall form his delectable acquaintance.
Mr. Pocklington was a mau of about five -and -fifty. He was short and thin, with small grey eyes, a sallow com plexion, and a very meagre supply of wiiite hair and whiskers of the same. He wore a dark-green dress coat, a buff waistcoat, black trousers, and boots. From his fob depended a goodly supply of seals hanging to a massive gold chain ; and an eye-glass was attached by a black silk riband to his neck. Such was Mr. Pocklington : and at the moment when we present him to the reader, he was helping Mrs. Pocklington to the wing of a cold fowl. The wife of Mr. P.'s sincerest and best affections had arisen to the enviable eminence from the very respectable though less comfortable situation of cook and house keeper to him, who, with a due appreciation of her merits, promoted her from the kitchen to the parlour ; or, in other words, made her his wife.
Mrs. Pocklington's education had not been exactly neglected, because it had never been attended to at all : but the moment she changed her condition, she learnt to read and eveu to write correct English — from a copy. She adored Byron, and worshipped Sir Walter Scott: beyond these authors she would not venture. Two other books, however, en grossed her attention — her honse and washing-books ; and in those she was more skilled than in " Childe Harold" or " Ivanhoe." Vulgar she was — oh! supremely vulgar : but her vulgarity was almost forgotten in her hospitality aud imperturbable good-humour. To do her justice, she was an excellent wife; and Mr. Pocklington was justly proud of her; for she made admirable jams and jellies : and, in a word, was " fat, fair, and forty." No children resulted from this happy union ; and yet we find a third person seated at the supper -table !
In the course of a few minutes we hear the bustling maid-servant address this third person as " Miss Maria :" then Mrs. Pocklington desires the aforesaid domestic " to hand Miss Leslie's plate;" and lastly, Mr. Pocklington makes some observation or another which betrays him to be the young lady's uncle. The flocks were feeding peaceably in the meadows ; the milk-maids were already proceeding to the pastures whither their avocations called them ; and activity prevailed in the country as well as in the town. The poor were rising from their slumbers to toil for the rich, who still reposed beneath canopies of silk and velvet ; yet haply the black bread and cold milk of the former were relished with a far better appetite than that which waited upon the sumptuous tables of the affluent. In the course of an hour, Macaire and his companion, who had left the letters, despoiled of their valuable con tents, a prey to the winds,— like the hopes and the fear3, the joys aud the sorrows, which their loss would occasion in the hearts of those who expected them,— arrived at a small cottage, where they halted aud partook of an ome let and some sour wine which an old woman speedily set before them.
Having allowed themselves half-an-hour to rest, they remunerated the crone and resumed their journey. Macaire was an admirable geographer and a skilful topographer : as a guide he was consequently fanltless. The principal precaution which he adopted was to avoid the high roads, and pursue his journey through the fields, coasting the hedges, where there were any, and carefully eluding all hamlets or villages. The rural police he did not fear ; for the ragged attire of himself and companion ROBERT ____._. _.!___£- Young, did we say ? Yes : young and beautiful was she as one of Nature's faultless creations can be ! "Ah! I always thought he would," exclaimed the amiable lady, in a triumphant tone of voice. " Why?" demanded Mr. Pocklington. " Because he wore those odious striped trousers," replied Mrs. Pocklington: "and the only two men whn ever stole anything out of our safe was dressed in pantaloons of that kind.
It has made mesuspicious ever since, Mr. P. ; and you see that I am not wrong." "A little piece more fowl, Maria?" said the mcr- Sixteen summers had arrayed her cheeks with the hues of the rose : and sixteen winters had lent the whiteness of their snows to her brow, her neck, and her budding bosom. Bnt the d^es of the cherry were npon her pout ing lips ; the deep soft blue of the early violet in her large and melting eyes ; and the fragrance of the cowslip in her breath. chant. The undulations of her beautiful form were almost visible through the virgin-white gown, which concealed it. The fall of her shoulders, the taper of her waist, the roundness of the arm; the hand, the fingers, and the ankles were all modelled by the taste of that sculptor who is the most skilful when devoid of caprice or whim ; for what other sculptor could have formed one so fair as this young girl, beside Nature ?
Nature knows no art and no artifice ; she is time to her self ; her charms need not cosmetics to enhance them. Man cannot imitate the down of the peach — the soft tints of the rose — nor the beautiful white of the lily. And all those were possessed by the young Maria, — the down of the peach, the tints of the rose, and the white of the lily! She was the only and orphan daughter of the merchant's sister. Deprived of her parents at an early age, but entitled to a handsome fortune as soon as she should attain her majority, Maria became the inmate of her uncle's house, and no expense was spared in her educa tion. She was therefore as accomplished as she was beautiful : but neither the embellishments of her mind nor the attractions of her person engendered the slightest sentiment of vanity in her bosom.
" No, I thank you, uncle," was the answer. " Then we have all done, it appears," continued Mr. Pocklington. " Maria — will you oblige me presently ?" The beautiful girl roso; and as soon as the supper things were cleared away, and Mr. Pocklington was ac commodated with an excellent glass of brandy-and-water — a wine-glass full of which he nanded to his better half — Maria seated herself at her piano, and played several airs to her uncle, who was passionately fond of music, without knowing a single note himself. "Very pretty— very pretty, indeed," said Mrs. Pock lington : " it's them quivers that I love." ' Will you not join your voice tc; that sweet music, Maria ?" said the merchant, iu a coaxing tone. " With pleasure, my dear uncle," returned the amiable girl. "Shall I sing you my favourite ballad, TheScotti i Warrior?"
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You’ve reached the end of [Robert Macaire in England.] Robert Macaire; or, the French bandit in England ... With ... engravings, drawn by Henry Anelay.
