The
circumstance
of Clive's legacy he never understood; but
more than once spoke of Barnes to Ethel, and sent his compli-
ments to him, and said he should like to shake him by the hand.
more than once spoke of Barnes to Ethel, and sent his compli-
ments to him, and said he should like to shake him by the hand.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v25 - Tas to Tur
Then she went below and
gathered up the trinkets which had been lying on the floor since
Rebecca dropped them there at her husband's orders, and Lord
Steyne went away.
COLONEL NEWCOME IN THE CAVE OF HARMONY
From The Newcomes >
THE
HERE was once a time when the sun used to shine brighter
than it appears to do in this latter half of the nineteenth
century; when the zest of life was certainly keener; when
tavern wines seemed to be delicious, and tavern dinners the per-
fection of cookery; when the perusal of novels was productive of
immense delight, and the monthly advent of magazine-day was
hailed as an exciting holiday; when to know Thompson, who had
written a magazine article, was an honor and a privilege, and to
see Brown, the author of the last romance, in the flesh, and act-
ually walking in the Park with his umbrella and Mrs. Brown, was
an event remarkable, and to the end of life to be perfectly well
remembered; when the women of this world were a thousand
times more beautiful than those of the present time, and the
houris of the theatres especially so ravishing and angelic, that to
see them was to set the heart in motion, and to see them again
was to struggle for half an hour previously at the door of the
pit; when tailors called at a man's lodgings to dazzle him with
cards of fancy waistcoats; when it seemed necessary to purchase
a grand silver dressing-case, so as to be ready for the beard
which was not yet born (as yearling brides provide lace caps, and
work rich clothes, for the expected darling); when to ride in the
Park on a ten-shilling hack seemed to be the height of fashion-
able enjoyment, and to splash your college tutor as you were
driving down Regent Street in a hired cab the triumph of satire;
when the acme of pleasure seemed to be to meet Jones of Trinity
at the Bedford, and to make an arrangement with him, and with
King of Corpus (who was staying at the Colonnade), and Martin
of Trinity Hall (who was with his family in Bloomsbury Square)
to dine at the Piazza, go to the play and see Braham in 'Fra
Diavolo,' and end the frolic evening by partaking of supper and
a song at the Cave of Harmony. It was in the days of my own
## p. 14702 (#276) ##########################################
14702
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
youth then that I met one or two of the characters who are to
figure in this history; and whom I must ask leave to accompany
for a short while, and until, familiarized with the public, they
can make their own way. As I recall them the roses bloom
again, and the nightingales sing by the calm Bendemeer.
Going to the play then, and to the pit, as was the fashion in
those merry days, with some young fellows of my own age;
having listened delighted to the most cheerful and brilliant of
operas, and laughed enthusiastically at the farce, we became nat-
urally hungry at twelve o'clock at night, and a desire for Welsh
rabbits and good old glee-singing led us to the Cave of Harmony,
then kept by the celebrated Hoskins, among whose friends we
were proud to count.
We enjoyed such intimacy with Mr. Hoskins that he never
failed to greet us with a kind nod; and John, the waiter, made
room for us near the president of the convivial meeting. We
knew the three admirable glee-singers, and many a time they
partook of brandy-and-water at our expense. One of us gave his
call dinner at Hoskins's, and a merry time we had of it. Where
are you, O Hoskins, bird of the night! Do you warble your
songs by Acheron, or troll your choruses by the banks of black
Avernus?
The goes of stout, The Chough and Crow,' the Welsh rabbit,
the 'Red-Cross Knight,' the hot brandy-and-water, (the brown,
the strong! ) the Bloom is on the Rye,' (the bloom isn't on the
rye any more! )-the song and the cup, in a word, passed round
merrily, and I daresay the songs and bumpers were encored. It
happened that there was a very small attendance at the Cave that
night, and we were all more sociable and friendly because the
company was select. The songs were chiefly of the sentimental
class; such ditties were much in vogue at the time of which I
speak.
There came into the Cave a gentleman with a lean brown face
and long black mustaches, dressed in very loose clothes, and evi-
dently a stranger to the place. At least he had not visited it for
a long time. He was pointing out changes to a lad who was in
his company; and calling for sherry-and-water, he listened to the
music, and twirled his mustaches with great enthusiasm.
At the very first glimpse of me the boy jumped up from the
table, bounded across the room, ran to me with his hands out, and
blushing, said, "Don't you know me? "
## p. 14703 (#277) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14703
It was little Newcome, my schoolfellow, whom I had not seen
for six years; grown a fine, tall young stripling now, with the
same bright blue eyes which I remembered when he was quite a
little boy.
"What the deuce brings you here? " said I.
He laughed, and looked roguish. "My father- that's my
father would come. He's just come back from India. He says
all the wits used to come here,- Mr. Sheridan, Captain Morris,
Colonel Hanger, Professor Porson. I told him your name, and
that you used to be very kind to me when I first went to Smith-
field. I've left now; I'm to have a private tutor. I say, I've
got such a jolly pony! It's better fun than old Smiffle. "
Here the whiskered gentleman, Newcome's father, pointing to
a waiter to follow him with his glass of sherry-and-water, strode
across the room, twirling his mustaches, and came up to the
table where we sat, making a salutation with his hat in a very
stately and polite manner, so that Hoskins himself was, as it
were, obliged to bow; the glee-singers murmured among them-
selves (their eyes rolling over their glasses toward one another as
they sucked brandy-and-water); and that mischievous little wag,
little Nadab the Improvisatore (who had just come in), began to
mimic him, feeling his imaginary whiskers after the manner of
the stranger, and flapping about his pocket handkerchief in the
most ludicrous manner. Hoskins checked this ribaldry by sternly
looking toward Nadab; and at the same time called upon the
gents to give their orders, the waiter being in the room, and Mr.
Bellew about to sing a song.
Newcome's father came up and held out his hand to me. I
daresay I blushed; for I had been comparing him to the admi-
rable Harley in 'The Critic,' and had christened him Don Ferolo
Whiskerandos.
―
He spoke in a voice exceedingly soft and pleasant; and with
a cordiality so simple and sincere that my laughter shrank away
ashamed, and gave place to a feeling much more respectful and
friendly. In youth, you see, one is touched by kindness. A man
of the world may of course be grateful or not, as he chooses.
"I have heard of your kindness, sir," says he, "to my boy.
And whoever is kind to him is kind to me. Will you allow me
to sit down by you? and may I beg you to try my cheroots? "
We were friends in a minute-young Newcome snuggling by my
side, his father opposite,- to whom, after a minute or two of
conversation, I presented my three college friends.
## p. 14704 (#278) ##########################################
14704
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
"You have come here, gentlemen, to see the wits," says the
colonel. "Are there any celebrated persons in the room? I have
been five-and-thirty years from home, and want to see all that is
to be seen. "
King of Corpus (who was an incorrigible wag) was on the
point of pulling some dreadful long-bow, and pointing out a half-
dozen of people in the room as R and H and L———,
etc. , the most celebrated wits of that day; but I cut King's shins
under the table, and got the fellow to hold his tongue.
"Maxima debetur pueris," says Jones (a fellow of very kind
feeling, who has gone into the Church since); and writing on
his card to Hoskins, hinted to him that a boy was in the room,
and a gentleman who was quite a greenhorn, hence that the songs
had better be carefully selected.
And so they were. A lady's school might have come in, and
but for the smell of the cigars and brandy-and-water have taken
no harm by what happened. Why should it not always be so?
If there are any Caves of Harmony now, I warrant Messieurs
the landlords their interests would be better consulted by keeping
their singers within bounds. The very greatest scamps like pretty
songs, and are melted by them; so are honest people. It was
worth a guinea to see the simple colonel, and his delight at the
music. He forgot all about the distinguished wits whom he had
expected to see, in his ravishment over the glees.
"I say, Clive, this is delightful. This is better than your
aunt's concert with all the Squallinis, hey? I shall come here
often. Landlord, may I venture to ask those gentlemen if they
will take any refreshments? What are their names? " (to one
of his neighbors) "I was scarcely allowed to hear any singing
before I went out, except an oratorio, where I fell asleep; but
this, by George, is as fine as Incledon! " He became quite excited
over his sherry-and-water: "I'm sorry to see you, gentlemen,
drinking brandy-pawnee," says he. "It plays the deuce with
our young men in India. " He joined in all the choruses with
an exceedingly sweet voice. He laughed at the Derby Ram so
that it did one good to hear him; and when Hoskins sang (as
he did admirably) the 'Old English Gentleman,' and described
in measured cadence the death of that venerable aristocrat, tears
trickled down the honest warrior's cheek, while he held out his
hand to Hoskins and said, "Thank you, sir, for that song: it is
an honor to human nature. " On which Hoskins began to cry
too.
―――――――
## p. 14705 (#279) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14705
And now young Nadab, having been cautioned, commenced
one of those surprising feats of improvisation with which he
used to charm audiences. He took us all off, and had rhymes
pat about all the principal persons in the room: King's pins
(which he wore very splendidly), Martin's red waistcoat, etc. The
colonel was charmed with each feat, and joined delighted with
the chorus-Ritolderolritolderol ritolderolderay (bis). And when,
coming to the colonel himself, he burst out,-
A military gent I see - and while his face I scan,
I think you'll all agree with me he came from Hindostan :
And by his side sits laughing free- a youth with curly head;
I think you'll all agree with me- that he was best in bed.
Ritolderol, etc. ,-
-
-
―――――
the colonel laughed immensely at this sally, and clapped his
son, young Clive, on the shoulder. "Hear what he says of you,
sir? Clive, best be off to bed, my boy-ho, ho! No, no. We
know a trick worth two of that. 'We won't go home till morn-
ing, till daylight does appear. ' Why should we? Why shouldn't
my boy have innocent pleasure? I was allowed none when I
was a young chap, and the severity was nearly the ruin of me.
I must go and speak with that young man -the most astonishing
thing I ever heard in my life. What's his name? Mr. Nadab?
Mr. Nadab, sir, you have delighted me. May I make so free as
to ask you to come and dine with me to-morrow at six. Colonel
Newcome, if you please, Nerot's Hotel, Clifford Street.
I am
always proud to make the acquaintance of men of genius, and
you are one, or my name is not Newcome. "
"Sir, you do me Hhonor," says Mr. Nadab, pulling up his shirt
collar, "and perhaps the day will come when the world will do
me justice: may I put down your hhonored name for my book
of poems? "
"Of course, my dear sir," says the enthusiastic colonel: "I'll
send them all over India. Put me down for six copies, and do
me the favor to bring them to-morrow when you come to din-
ner. "
And now, Mr. Hoskins asking if any gentleman would volun-
teer a song, what was our amazement when the simple Colonel
offered to sing himself, at which the room applauded vociferously;
while methought poor Clive Newcome hung down his head and
blushed as red as a peony. I felt for the young lad; and thought
what my own sensations would have been, if in that place, my
XXV-920
## p. 14706 (#280) ##########################################
14706
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
own uncle, Major Pendennis, had suddenly proposed to exert his
lyrical powers.
The Colonel selected the ditty of Wapping Old Stairs' (a
ballad so sweet and touching that surely any English poet might
be proud to be the father of it); and he sang this quaint and
charming old song in an exceedingly pleasant voice, with flour-
ishes and roulades in the old Incledon manner, which has pretty
nearly passed away. The singer gave his heart and soul to the
simple ballad, and delivered Molly's gentle appeal so pathetically
that even the professional gentlemen hummed and buzzed a sin-
cere applause; and some wags who were inclined to jeer at the
beginning of the performance, clinked their glasses and rapped
their sticks with quite a respectful enthusiasm. When the song
was over, Clive held up his head too; after the shock of the first
verse, looked round with surprise and pleasure in his eyes: and
we, I need not say, backed our friend, delighted to see him come
out of his queer scrape so triumphantly. The colonel bowed
and smiled with very pleasant good-nature at our plaudits. It
was like Dr. Primrose preaching his sermon in the prison. There
was something touching in the naïveté and kindness of the placid
and simple gentleman.
Great Hoskins, placed on high amid the tuneful choir, was
pleased to signify his approbation, and gave his guest's health in
his usual dignified manner. "I am much obliged to you, sir,"
said Mr. Hoskins; "the room ought to be much obliged to you,
I drink your 'ealth and song, sir;" and he bowed to the colonel
politely over his glass of brandy-and-water, of which he absorbed
a little in his customer's honor. "I have not heard that song,"
he was kind enough to say, "better performed since Mr. Incle-
don sung it. He was a great singer, sir, and I may say, in the
words of our immortal Shakespeare, that, 'take him for all in all,
we shall not look upon his like again. ""
The colonel blushed in his turn, and turning round to his
boy with an arch smile, said, "I learnt it from Incledon. I
used to slip out from Grey Friars to hear him, Heaven bless me,
forty years ago; and I used to be flogged afterward, and serve.
me right too. Lord! Lord! how the time passes! " He drank off
his sherry-and-water, and fell back in his chair: we could see
he was thinking about his youth-the golden time, the happy,
the bright, the unforgotten. I was myself nearly two-and-twenty
years of age at that period, and felt as old as,-ay, older than
the colonel.
## p. 14707 (#281) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14707
While he was singing his ballad, there had walked, or rather
reeled, into the room, a gentleman in a military frock-coat and
duck trousers of dubious hue, with whose name and person some
of my readers are perhaps already acquainted. In fact, it was
my friend Captain Costigan, in his usual condition at this hour.
of the night.
Holding on by various tables, the captain had sidled up,
without accident to himself or any of the jugs and glasses round
about him, to the table where we sat, and had taken his place
near the writer, his old acquaintance. He warbled the refrain of
the colonel's song, not inharmoniously; and saluted its pathetic
conclusion with a subdued hiccough, and a plentiful effusion of
tears. "Bedad it is a beautiful song," says he, "and many a
time I heard poor Harry Incledon sing it. "
"He's a great character," whispered that unlucky King of
Corpus to his neighbor the colonel; "was a captain in the army.
We call him the General. Captain Costigan, will you take some-
thing to drink? »
"Bedad I will," says the captain, “and I'll sing ye a song tu. ”
And having procured a glass of whisky-and-water from the
passing waiter, the poor old man-settling his face into a hor-
rid grin, and leering as he was wont when he gave what he called
one of his prime songs-began his music.
The unlucky wretch, who scarcely knew what he was doing or
saying, selected one of the most outrageous performances of his
répertoire, fired off a tipsy howl by way of overture, and away
he went. At the end of the second verse the colonel started
up, clapping on his hat, seizing his stick, and looking as fero-
cious as though he had been going to do battle with a Pindaree.
"Silence! " he roared out.
"Hear, hear! " cried certain wags at a farther table. "Go on,
Costigan," said others.
"Go on! " cries the colonel in his high voice, trembling with
anger. "Does any gentleman say 'Go on'? Does any man who
has a wife and sisters, or children at home, say 'Go on' to such
disgusting ribaldry as this? Do you dare, sir, to call yourself a
gentleman, and to say that you hold the king's commission, and
to sit down among Christians and men of honor, and defile the
ears of young boys with this wicked baiderdash! "
"Why do you bring young boys here, old boy! " cries a voice
of the malcontents.
## p. 14708 (#282) ##########################################
14708
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
"Why? Because I thought I was coming to a society of
gentlemen," cried out the indignant Colonel. "Because I never
could have believed that Englishmen could meet together and
allow a man, and an old man, so to disgrace himself. For shame,
you old wretch! Go home to your bed, you hoary old sinner!
And for my part, I'm not sorry that my son should see, for
once in his life, to what shame and degradation and dishonor,
drunkenness and whisky may bring a man. Never mind the
change, sir! curse the change! " says the colonel, facing the
amazed waiter: "keep it till you see me in this place again;
which will be never-by George, never! " And shouldering his
stick, and scowling round at the company of scared bacchanalians,
the indignant gentleman stalked away, his boy after him.
Clive seemed rather shamefaced; but I fear the rest of the
company looked still more foolish.
"Aussi que diable venait-il faire dans cette galère? »* says
King of Corpus to Jones of Trinity: and Jones gave a shrug of
his shoulders which were smarting, perhaps; for that uplifted
cane of the colonel's had somehow fallen on the back of every
man in the room.
―――――
COLONEL NEWCOME'S DEATH.
From The Newcomes'
LIVE, and the boy sometimes with him, used to go daily to
Grey Friars, where the colonel still lay ill. After some
days the fever which had attacked him left him; but left
him so weak and enfeebled that he could only go from his bed
to the chair by his fireside. The season was exceedingly bitter;
the chamber which he inhabited was warm and spacious: it was
considered unadvisable to move him until he had attained greater
strength and till warmer weather. The medical men of the House
hoped he might rally in spring. My friend Dr. Goodenough.
came to him; he hoped too, but not with a hopeful face. A
chamber, luckily vacant, hard by the colonel's, was assigned to
his friends, where we sat when we were too many for him.
Besides his customary attendant, he had two dear and watchful
nurses, who were almost always with him,- Ethel, and Madame
de Florac who had passed many a faithful year by an old man's
*«But what the devil did he come to a place like this for? »
## p. 14709 (#283) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14709
bedside; who would have come, as to a work of religion, to any
sick couch, much more to this one, where he lay for whose life
she would once gladly have given her own.
But our colonel, we all were obliged to acknowledge, was no
more our friend of old days. He knew us again, and was good
to every one round him, as his wont was; especially, when Boy
came his old eyes lighted up with simple happiness, and with
eager trembling hands he would seek under his bedclothes, or
the pockets of his dressing-gown, for toys or cakes, which he
had caused to be purchased for his grandson. There was a little
laughing, red-cheeked, white-headed gown-boy of the school, to
whom the old man had taken a great fancy. One of the symp-
toms of his returning consciousness and recovery, as we hoped,
was his calling for this child, who pleased our friend by his arch-
ness and merry ways; and who, to the old gentleman's unfailing
delight, used to call him "Codd Colonel. " "Tell little F— that
Codd Colonel wants to see him;" and the little gown-boy was
brought to him: and the colonel would listen to him for hours,
and hear all about his lessons and his play; and prattle, almost
as childishly, about Dr. Raine and his own early school-days.
The boys of the school, it must be said, had heard the noble.
old gentleman's touching history, and had all got to know and
love him. They came every day to hear news of him; sent him
in books and papers to amuse him; and some benevolent young
souls God's blessing on all honest boys, say I-painted theat-
rical characters and sent them in to Codd Colonel's grandson.
The little fellow was made free of gown-boys, and once came
thence to his grandfather in a little gown, which delighted the
old man hugely. Boy said he would like to be a little gown-
boy; and I make no doubt, when he is old enough, his father will
get him that post, and put him under the tuition of my friend
Dr. Senior.
So weeks passed away, during which our dear old friend still
remained with us. His mind was gone at intervals, but would
rally feebly; and with his consciousness returned his love, his
simplicity, his sweetness. He would talk French with Madame
de Florac; at which time his memory appeared to awaken with
surprising vividness, his cheek flushed, and he was a youth again,
-
a youth all love and hope,—a stricken old man, with a beard
as white as snow covering the noble careworn face. At such
times he called her by her Christian name of Léonore; he
## p. 14710 (#284) ##########################################
14710
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
addressed courtly old words of regard and kindness to the aged
lady; anon he wandered in his talk, and spoke to her as if they
still were young. Now, as in those early days, his heart was
pure; no anger remained in it; no guile tainted it: only peace
and good-will dwelt in it.
Rosey's death had seemed to shock him for a while when
the unconscious little boy spoke of it. Before that circumstance,
Clive had even forborne to wear mourning, lest the news should
agitate his father. The colonel remained silent and was very
much disturbed all that day, but he never appeared to com-
prehend the fact quite; and once or twice afterward asked why
she did not come to see him? She was prevented, he supposed-
she was prevented, he said, with a look of terror; - he never
once otherwise alluded to that unlucky tyrant of his household
who had made his last years so unhappy.
The circumstance of Clive's legacy he never understood; but
more than once spoke of Barnes to Ethel, and sent his compli-
ments to him, and said he should like to shake him by the hand.
Barnes Newcome never once offered to touch that honored hand,
though his sister bore her uncle's message to him. They came
often from Bryanstone Square; Mrs. Hobson even offered to sit
with the colonel, and read to him, and brought him books for
his improvement. But her presence disturbed him; he cared not
for her books: the two nurses whom he loved faithfully watched
him; and my wife and I were admitted to him sometimes, both
of whom he honored with regard and recognition. As for F. B. ,
in order to be near his colonel, did not that good fellow take up
his lodgings in Cistercian Lane, at the Red Cow? He is one
whose errors, let us hope, shall be pardoned, quia multum amavit.
I am sure he felt ten times more joy at hearing of Clive's legacy
than if thousands had been bequeathed to himself. May good
health and good fortune speed him!
The days went on; and our hopes, raised sometimes, began to
flicker and fall. One evening the colonel left his chair for his
bed in pretty good spirits; but passed a disturbed night, and the
next morning was too weak to rise. Then he remained in his
bed, and his friends visited him there. One afternoon he asked
for his little gown-boy, and the child was brought to him, and
sat by the bed with a very awe-stricken face; and then gathered
courage, and tried to amuse him by telling him how it was a
half-holiday, and they were having a cricket match with the
## p. 14711 (#285) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
147II
St. Peter's boys in the green, and Grey Friars was in and win-
ning. The colonel quite understood about it: he would like to
see the game; he had played many a game on that green when
he was a boy. He grew excited: Clive dismissed his father's lit-
tle friend, and put a sovereign into his hand; and away he ran
to say that Codd Colonel had come into a fortune, and to buy
tarts, and to see the match out. I, curre, little white-haired gown-
boy! Heaven speed you, little friend.
After the child had gone, Thomas Newcome began to wander
more and more. He talked louder; he gave the word of com-
mand, spoke Hindustanee as if to his men. Then he spoke words
in French rapidly, seizing a hand that was near him, and crying,
"Toujours, toujours! " But it was Ethel's hand which he took.
Ethel and Clive and the nurse were in the room with him; the
nurse came to us, who were sitting in the adjoining apartment;
Madame de Florac was there with my wife and Bayham.
At the look in the woman's countenance Madame de Florac
started up.
"He is very bad; he wanders a great deal," the
nurse whispered. The French lady fell instantly on her knees,
and remained rigid in prayer.
Some time afterward Ethel came in with a scared face to our
pale group. "He is calling for you again, dear lady," she said,
going up to Madame de Florac, who was still kneeling; "and
just now he said he wanted Pendennis to take care of his boy.
He will not know you. " She hid her tears as she spoke.
She went into the room where Clive was at the bed's foot:
the old man within it talked on rapidly for a while; then again
he would sigh and be still; once more I heard him say hur-
riedly, "Take care of him when I'm in India;" and then with a
heart-rending voice he called out, "Léonore, Léonore! " She
was kneeling by his side now. The patient voice sank into faint.
murmurs; only a moan now and then announced that he was not
asleep.
At the usual evening hour the chapel bell began to toll, and
Thomas Newcome's hands outside the bed feebly beat time. And
just as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile shone over
his face, and he lifted up his head a little, and quickly said,
«< Adsum! " and fell back. It was the word we used at school
when names were called; and lo, he, whose heart was as that of a
little child, had answered to his name, and stood in the presence
of The Master.
## p. 14712 (#286) ##########################################
14712
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
FROM THE CHRONICLE OF THE DRUM›
AⓇ
T PARIS, hard by the Maine barriers,
Whoever will choose to repair,
Midst a dozen of wooden-legged warriors
May haply fall in with old Pierre.
On the sunshiny bench of a tavern
He sits and he prates of old wars,
And moistens his pipe of tobacco
With a drink that is named after Mars.
The beer makes his tongue run the quicker,
And as long as his tap never fails,
Thus over his favorite liquor`
Old Peter will tell his old tales.
Says he, "In my life's ninety summers
Strange changes and chances I've seen,-
So here's to all gentlemen drummers
That ever have thumped on a skin.
"Brought up in the art military.
For four generations we are;
My ancestors drummed for King Harry,
The Huguenot lad of Navarre.
And as each man in life has his station
According as Fortune may fix,
While Condé was waving the baton,
My grandsire was trolling the sticks.
-
"Ah! those were the days for commanders!
What glories my grandfather won,
Ere bigots and lackeys and panders
The fortunes of France had undone!
In Germany, Flanders, and Holland,-
What foeman resisted us then?
No; my grandsire was ever victorious,-
My grandsire and Monsieur Turenne.
"The princes that day passed before us,
Our countrymen's glory and hope:
Monsieur, who was learned in Horace,
D'Artois, who could dance the tight-rope.
One night we kept guard for the Queen
At her Majesty's opera-box,
While the King, that majestical monarch,
Sat filing at home at his locks.
## p. 14713 (#287) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14713
་
"Yes, I drummed for the fair Antoinette,
And so smiling she looked and so tender,
That our officers, privates, and drummers
All vowed they would die to defend her.
But she cared not for us honest fellows,
Who fought and who bled in her wars:
She sneered at our gallant Rochambeau,
And turned Lafayette out of doors.
"Ventrebleu! then I swore great oath,
No more to such tyrants to kneel;
And so, just to keep up my drumming,
One day I drummed down the Bastille.
Ho, landlord! a stoup of fresh wine:
Come, comrades, a bumper we'll try,
And drink to the year eighty-nine
And the glorious fourth of July!
"Then bravely our cannon it thundered
As onward our patriots bore:
Our enemies were but a hundred,
And we twenty thousand or more.
They carried the news to King Louis;
He heard it as calm as you please,
And like a majestical monarch,
Kept filing his locks and his keys.
"We showed our republican courage:
We stormed and we broke the great gate in,
And we murdered the insolent governor
For daring to keep us . a-waiting.
Lambesc and his squadrons stood by;
They never stirred finger or thumb:
The saucy aristocrats trembled
As they heard the republican drum.
"Hurrah! what a storm was a-brewing
The day of our vengeance was come!
Through scenes of what carnage and ruin
Did I beat on the patriot drum!
Let's drink to the famed tenth of August:
At midnight I beat the tattoo,
And woke up the pikemen of Paris
To follow the bold Barbaroux.
B
L
## p. 14714 (#288) ##########################################
14714
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
"You all know the Place de la Concorde?
'Tis hard by the Tuileries wall;
Mid terraces, fountains, and statues,
There rises an obelisk tall.
There rises an obelisk tall,
All garnished and gilded the base is:
'Tis surely the gayest of all
Our beautiful city's gay places.
"Around it are gardens and flowers;
And the Cities of France on their thrones,
Each crowned with his circlet of flowers,
Sits watching this biggest of stones!
I love to go sit in the sun there,
The flowers and fountains to see,
And to think of the deeds that were done there
In the glorious year ninety-three.
"'Twas here stood the Altar of Freedom;
And though neither marble nor gilding
Was used in those days to adorn
Our simple republican building,-
Corbleu! but the MÈRE GUILLOTINE
Cared little for splendor or show,
So you gave her an axe and a beam,
And a plank and a basket or so.
"Awful, and proud, and erect,
Here sat our republican goddess:
Each morning her table we decked
With dainty aristocrats' bodies.
The people each day flocked around
As she sat at her meat and her wine:
'Twas always the use of our nation
To witness the sovereign dine.
"Young virgins with fair golden tresses,
Old silver-haired prelates and priests,
Dukes, marquises, barons, princesses,
Were splendidly served at her feasts.
Ventrebleu! but we pampered our ogress
With the best that our nation could bring;
And dainty she grew in her progress,
And called for the head of a King!
## p. 14715 (#289) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14715
"She called for the blood of our King,
And straight from his prison we drew him;
And to her with shouting we led him,
And took him, and bound him, and slew him.
The Monarchs of Europe against me
Have plotted a godless alliance:
I'll fling them the head of King Louis,'
She said, 'as my gage of defiance. '
"I see him, as now for a moment
Away from his jailers he broke;
And stood at the foot of the scaffold,
And lingered, and fain would have spoke.
'Ho, drummer! quick, silence yon Capet,'
Says Santerre, with a beat of your drum':
Lustily then did I tap it,
And the son of St. Louis was dumb. "
WHAT IS GREATNESS?
From The Chronicle of the Drum'
A
H, GENTLE, tender lady mine!
The winter wind blows cold and shrill:
Come, fill me one more glass of wine,
And give the silly fools their will.
And what care we for war and wrack,
How kings and heroes rise and fall?
Look yonder,* in his coffin black
There lies the greatest of them all!
To pluck him down, and keep him up,
Died many million human souls; -
'Tis twelve o'clock and time to sup:
Bid Mary heap the fire with coals.
He captured many thousand guns;
He wrote "The Great" before his name;
And dying, only left his sons
The recollection of his shame.
Though more than half the world was his,
He died without a rood his own;
*This ballad was written at Paris at the time of the second funeral of
Napoleon.
## p. 14716 (#290) ##########################################
14716
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
And borrowed from his enemies
Six foot of ground to lie upon.
He fought a thousand glorious wars,
And more than half the world was his;
And somewhere now, in yonder stars,
Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is.
THE WHITE SQUALL
ON
N DECK, beneath the awning,
I dozing lay and yawning:
It was the gray of dawning,
Ere yet the sun arose;
And above the funnel's roaring,
And the fitful winds' deploring,
I heard the cabin snoring
With universal nose.
I could hear the passengers snorting,
I envied their disporting-
Vainly I was courting.
The pleasure of a doze!
So I lay, and wondered why light
Came not, and watched the twilight,
And the glimmer of the skylight,
That shot across the deck,
And the binnacle pale and steady,
And the dull glimpse of the dead-eye,
And the sparks in fiery eddy
That whirled from the chimney neck.
In our jovial floating prison
There was sleep from fore to mizzen,
And never a star had risen
The hazy sky to speck.
Strange company we harbored;
We'd a hundred Jews to larboard,
Unwashed, uncombed, unbarbered -
Jews black, and brown, and gray:
With terror it would seize ye,
And make your souls uneasy,
To see those Rabbis greasy,
Who did naught but scratch and pray:
## p. 14717 (#291) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14717
Their dirty children puking —
Their dirty saucepans cooking-
Their dirty fingers hooking
Their swarming fleas away.
-
To starboard, Turks and Greeks were -
Whiskered and brown their cheeks were
Enormous wide their breeks were,
Their pipes did puff alway;
Each on his mat allotted
In silence smoked and squatted,
Whilst round their children trotted
In pretty, pleasant play.
He can't but smile who traces
The smiles on those brown faces,
And the pretty prattling graces
Of those small heathens gay.
And so the hours kept tolling,
And through the ocean rolling
Went the brave Iberia bowling
Before the break of day—
When A SQUALL, upon a sudden,
Came o'er the waters scudding:
And the clouds began to gather,
And the sea was lashed to lather,
And the lowering thunder grumbled,
And the lightning jumped and tumbled,
And the ship, and all the ocean,
Woke up in wild commotion.
Then the wind set up a howling,
And the poodle dog a yowling,
And the cocks began a crowing,
And the old cow raised a lowing,
As she heard the tempest blowing;
And fowls and geese did cackle,
And the cordage and the tackle
Began to shriek and crackle;
And the spray dashed o'er the funnels,
And down the deck in runnels;
And the rushing water soaks all,
From the seamen in the fo'ksal
To the stokers whose black faces
Peer out of their bed places;
## p. 14718 (#292) ##########################################
14718
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
And the captain he was bawling,
And the sailors pulling, hauling,
And the quarter-deck tarpauling
Was shivered in the squalling;
And the passengers awaken,
Most pitifully shaken;
And the steward jumps up, and hastens
For the necessary basins.
Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered,
And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered,
As the plunging waters met them
And splashed and overset them:
And they call in their emergence
Upon countless saints and virgins;
And their marrowbones are bended,
And they think the world is ended.
And the Turkish women for'ard
Were frightened and behorror'd;
And shrieking and bewildering,
The mothers clutched their children;
The men sang "Allah! Illah!
Mashallah Bismillah! "
As the warring waters doused them,
And splashed them and soused them,
And they called upon the Prophet,
And thought but little of it.
Then all the fleas in Jewry
Jumped up and bit like fury;
And the progeny of Jacob
Did on the main-deck wake up
(I wot those greasy Rabbins
Would never pay for cabins);
And each man moaned and jabbered in
His filthy Jewish gaberdine,
In woe and lamentation,
And howling consternation.
And the splashing water drenches
Their dirty brats and wenches;
And they crawl from bales and benches
In a hundred thousand stenches.
This was the White Squall famous,
Which latterly o'ercame us,
## p. 14719 (#293) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14719
And which all will well remember
On the 28th September;
A
When a Prussian captain of Lancers
(Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers)-
Came on the deck astonished,
By that wild squall admonished,
And wondering cried, "Potztausend!
Wie ist der Sturm jetzt brausend! ”
And looked at Captain Lewis,
Who calmly stood and blew his
Cigar in all the bustle,
And scorned the tempest's tussle.
And oft we've thought thereafter
How he beat the storm to laughter;
For well he knew his vessel
With that vain wind could wrestle;
And when a wreck we thought her,
And doomed ourselves to slaughter,
How gayly he fought her,
And through the hubbub brought her,
And as the tempest caught her,
Cried, "GEORGE! SOME BRANDY-AND-WATER! "
And when, its force expended,
The harmless storm was ended,
And as the sunrise splendid
Came blushing o'er the sea,
I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making
A prayer at home for me.
THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE
STREET there is in Paris famous,
For which no rhyme our language yields:
Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is-
The New Street of the Little Fields.
And here's an inn, not rich and splendid,
But still in comfortable case:
The which in youth I oft attended,
To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse.
## p. 14720 (#294) ##########################################
14720
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is:
A sort of soup or broth, or brew,
Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes,
That Greenwich never could outdo;
Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron,
Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace,-
All these you eat at TERRÉ's tavern,
In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Indeed a rich and savory stew 'tis ;
And true philosophers, methinks,
Who love all sorts of natural beauties,
Should love good victuals and good drinks.
And Cordelier or Benedictine
Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace,
Nor find a fast-day too afflicting,
Which served him up a Bouillabaisse.
I wonder if the house still there is?
Yes, here the lamp is, as before;
The smiling red-cheeked écaillère is
Still opening oysters at the door.
IS TERRÉ still alive and able?
I recollect his droll grimace:
He'd come and smile before your table,
And hope you liked your Bouillabaisse.
We enter, nothing's changed or older.
"How's Monsieur TERRÉ, waiter, pray? "
The waiter stares and shrugs his shoulder:
"Monsieur is dead this many a day. "-
"It is the lot of saint and sinner:
So honest TERRE'S run his race. ".
"What will Monsieur require for dinner? ».
"Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse ? »
-
-
"Oh, oui, Monsieur," 's the waiter's answer:
"Quel vin Monsieur désire-t-il ? » —
"Tell me a good one. "—"That I can, sir:
The Chambertin with yellow seal. "
"SO TERRÉ's gone," I say, and sink in
My old accustomed corner-place:
"He's done with feasting and with drinking,
With Burgundy and Bouillabaisse. "
## p. 14721 (#295) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14721
XXV-921
My old accustomed corner here is,
The table still is in the nook:
Ah! vanished many a busy year is
This well-known chair since last I took.
When first I saw ye, cari luoghi,
I'd scarce a beard upon my face;
And now, a grizzled, grim old fogy,
I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse.
Where are you, old companions trusty
Of early days, here met to dine?
Come, waiter! quick, a flagon crusty-
I'll pledge them in the good old wine.
The kind old voices and old faces
My memory can quick retrace;
Around the board they take their places,
And share the wine and Bouillabaisse.
There's Jack has made a wondrous marriage;
There's laughing Tom is laughing yet;
There's brave Augustus drives his carriage;
There's poor old Fred in the Gazette;
On James's head the grass is growing:
Good Lord! the world has wagged apace
Since here we set the claret flowing,
And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse.
Ah me! how quick the days are flitting!
I mind me of a time that's gone,
When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting,
In this same place - but not alone.
A fair young form was nestled near me,
A dear, dear face looked fondly up,
And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me
There's no one now to share my cup.
**
I drink it as the Fates ordain it.
Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes:
Fill up the lonely glass and drain it
In memory of dear old times.
Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is:
And sit you down and say your grace
With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is.
Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse!
## p. 14722 (#296) ##########################################
14722
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
PEG OF LIMAVADDY
IDING from Coleraine
R (Famed for lovely Kitty),
Came a Cockney bound
Unto Derry city;
Weary was his soul;
Shivering and sad, he
Bumped along the road
Leads to Limavaddy.
Mountains stretched around. —
Gloomy was their tinting;
And the horse's hoofs
Made a dismal clinting;
Wind upon the heath
Howling was and piping,
On the heath and bog,
Black with many a snipe in.
Mid the bogs of black,
Silver pools were flashing,
Crows upon their sides
Pecking were and splashing.
Cockney on the car
Closer folds his plaidy,
Grumbling at the road
Leads to Limavaddy.
Through the crashing woods
Autumn brawled and blustered,
Tossing round about
Leaves the hue of mustard;
Yonder lay Lough Foyle,
Which a storm was whipping,
Covering with the mist
Lake and shores and shipping.
Up and down the hill
(Nothing could be bolder),
Horse went with a raw
Bleeding on his shoulder.
"Where are horses changed? "
Said I to the laddy
Driving on the box:
"Sir, at Limavaddy. "
## p. 14723 (#297) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14723
Limavaddy inn's
But a humble bait-house,
Where you may procure
Whisky and potatoes;
Landlord at the door
Gives a smiling welcome
To the shivering wights
Who to this hotel come.
Landlady within
Sits and knits a stocking,
With a wary foot
Baby's cradle rocking.
To the chimney nook
Having found admittance,
There I watch a pup
Playing with two kittens;
(Playing round the fire,
Which of blazing turf is,
Roaring to the pot
Which bubbles with the murphies;)
And the cradled babe
Fond the mother nursed it,
Singing it a song
As she twists the worsted!
Up and down the stair
Two more young-ones patter,—
Twins were never seen
Dirtier or fatter;
Both have mottled legs,
Both have snubby noses,
Both have Here the host
Kindly interposes:·
"Sure you must be froze
With the sleet and hail, sir:
So will you have some punch,
Or will you have some ale, sir? "
-
:-
Presently a maid
Enters with the liquor
(Half a pint of ale
Frothing in a beaker).
Gads! I didn't know
What my beating heart meant:
## p. 14724 (#298) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14724
Hebe's self, I thought,
Entered the apartment.
As she came she smiled;
And the smile bewitching,
On my word and honor,
Lighted all the kitchen!
With a curtsy neat
Greeting the new-comer,
Lovely, smiling Peg
Offers me the rummer.
But my trembling hand
Up the beaker tilted,
And the glass of ale
Every drop I spilt it;
Spilt it every drop
(Dames, who read my volumes,
Pardon such a word)
On my what-d'ye-call-'ems!
Witnessing the sight
Of that dire disaster,
Out began to laugh
Misses, maid, and master;
Such a merry peal
'Specially Miss Peg's was,
(As the glass of ale
Trickling down my legs was),
That the joyful sound
Of that mingling laughter
Echoed in my ears
Many a long day after.
Such a silver peal!
In the meadows listening,
You who've heard the bells
Ringing to a christening;
You who ever heard
Caradori pretty,
Smiling like an angel,
Singing Giovinetti,'-
Fancy Peggy's laugh,
-
Sweet and clear and cheerful,
At my pantaloons
With half a pint of beer full!
## p. 14725 (#299) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
When the laugh was done,
Peg, the pretty hussy,
Moved about the room
Wonderfully busy:
Now she looks to see
If the kettle keeps hot;
Now she rubs the spoons,
Now she cleans the teapot;
Now she sets the cups
Trimly and secure;
Now she scours a pot:
And so it was I drew her.
Thus it was I drew her
Scouring of a kettle.
(Faith! her blushing cheeks
Reddened on the metal! )
Ah! but 'tis in vain
That I try to sketch it:
The pot perhaps is like,
But Peggy's face is wretched.
gathered up the trinkets which had been lying on the floor since
Rebecca dropped them there at her husband's orders, and Lord
Steyne went away.
COLONEL NEWCOME IN THE CAVE OF HARMONY
From The Newcomes >
THE
HERE was once a time when the sun used to shine brighter
than it appears to do in this latter half of the nineteenth
century; when the zest of life was certainly keener; when
tavern wines seemed to be delicious, and tavern dinners the per-
fection of cookery; when the perusal of novels was productive of
immense delight, and the monthly advent of magazine-day was
hailed as an exciting holiday; when to know Thompson, who had
written a magazine article, was an honor and a privilege, and to
see Brown, the author of the last romance, in the flesh, and act-
ually walking in the Park with his umbrella and Mrs. Brown, was
an event remarkable, and to the end of life to be perfectly well
remembered; when the women of this world were a thousand
times more beautiful than those of the present time, and the
houris of the theatres especially so ravishing and angelic, that to
see them was to set the heart in motion, and to see them again
was to struggle for half an hour previously at the door of the
pit; when tailors called at a man's lodgings to dazzle him with
cards of fancy waistcoats; when it seemed necessary to purchase
a grand silver dressing-case, so as to be ready for the beard
which was not yet born (as yearling brides provide lace caps, and
work rich clothes, for the expected darling); when to ride in the
Park on a ten-shilling hack seemed to be the height of fashion-
able enjoyment, and to splash your college tutor as you were
driving down Regent Street in a hired cab the triumph of satire;
when the acme of pleasure seemed to be to meet Jones of Trinity
at the Bedford, and to make an arrangement with him, and with
King of Corpus (who was staying at the Colonnade), and Martin
of Trinity Hall (who was with his family in Bloomsbury Square)
to dine at the Piazza, go to the play and see Braham in 'Fra
Diavolo,' and end the frolic evening by partaking of supper and
a song at the Cave of Harmony. It was in the days of my own
## p. 14702 (#276) ##########################################
14702
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
youth then that I met one or two of the characters who are to
figure in this history; and whom I must ask leave to accompany
for a short while, and until, familiarized with the public, they
can make their own way. As I recall them the roses bloom
again, and the nightingales sing by the calm Bendemeer.
Going to the play then, and to the pit, as was the fashion in
those merry days, with some young fellows of my own age;
having listened delighted to the most cheerful and brilliant of
operas, and laughed enthusiastically at the farce, we became nat-
urally hungry at twelve o'clock at night, and a desire for Welsh
rabbits and good old glee-singing led us to the Cave of Harmony,
then kept by the celebrated Hoskins, among whose friends we
were proud to count.
We enjoyed such intimacy with Mr. Hoskins that he never
failed to greet us with a kind nod; and John, the waiter, made
room for us near the president of the convivial meeting. We
knew the three admirable glee-singers, and many a time they
partook of brandy-and-water at our expense. One of us gave his
call dinner at Hoskins's, and a merry time we had of it. Where
are you, O Hoskins, bird of the night! Do you warble your
songs by Acheron, or troll your choruses by the banks of black
Avernus?
The goes of stout, The Chough and Crow,' the Welsh rabbit,
the 'Red-Cross Knight,' the hot brandy-and-water, (the brown,
the strong! ) the Bloom is on the Rye,' (the bloom isn't on the
rye any more! )-the song and the cup, in a word, passed round
merrily, and I daresay the songs and bumpers were encored. It
happened that there was a very small attendance at the Cave that
night, and we were all more sociable and friendly because the
company was select. The songs were chiefly of the sentimental
class; such ditties were much in vogue at the time of which I
speak.
There came into the Cave a gentleman with a lean brown face
and long black mustaches, dressed in very loose clothes, and evi-
dently a stranger to the place. At least he had not visited it for
a long time. He was pointing out changes to a lad who was in
his company; and calling for sherry-and-water, he listened to the
music, and twirled his mustaches with great enthusiasm.
At the very first glimpse of me the boy jumped up from the
table, bounded across the room, ran to me with his hands out, and
blushing, said, "Don't you know me? "
## p. 14703 (#277) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14703
It was little Newcome, my schoolfellow, whom I had not seen
for six years; grown a fine, tall young stripling now, with the
same bright blue eyes which I remembered when he was quite a
little boy.
"What the deuce brings you here? " said I.
He laughed, and looked roguish. "My father- that's my
father would come. He's just come back from India. He says
all the wits used to come here,- Mr. Sheridan, Captain Morris,
Colonel Hanger, Professor Porson. I told him your name, and
that you used to be very kind to me when I first went to Smith-
field. I've left now; I'm to have a private tutor. I say, I've
got such a jolly pony! It's better fun than old Smiffle. "
Here the whiskered gentleman, Newcome's father, pointing to
a waiter to follow him with his glass of sherry-and-water, strode
across the room, twirling his mustaches, and came up to the
table where we sat, making a salutation with his hat in a very
stately and polite manner, so that Hoskins himself was, as it
were, obliged to bow; the glee-singers murmured among them-
selves (their eyes rolling over their glasses toward one another as
they sucked brandy-and-water); and that mischievous little wag,
little Nadab the Improvisatore (who had just come in), began to
mimic him, feeling his imaginary whiskers after the manner of
the stranger, and flapping about his pocket handkerchief in the
most ludicrous manner. Hoskins checked this ribaldry by sternly
looking toward Nadab; and at the same time called upon the
gents to give their orders, the waiter being in the room, and Mr.
Bellew about to sing a song.
Newcome's father came up and held out his hand to me. I
daresay I blushed; for I had been comparing him to the admi-
rable Harley in 'The Critic,' and had christened him Don Ferolo
Whiskerandos.
―
He spoke in a voice exceedingly soft and pleasant; and with
a cordiality so simple and sincere that my laughter shrank away
ashamed, and gave place to a feeling much more respectful and
friendly. In youth, you see, one is touched by kindness. A man
of the world may of course be grateful or not, as he chooses.
"I have heard of your kindness, sir," says he, "to my boy.
And whoever is kind to him is kind to me. Will you allow me
to sit down by you? and may I beg you to try my cheroots? "
We were friends in a minute-young Newcome snuggling by my
side, his father opposite,- to whom, after a minute or two of
conversation, I presented my three college friends.
## p. 14704 (#278) ##########################################
14704
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
"You have come here, gentlemen, to see the wits," says the
colonel. "Are there any celebrated persons in the room? I have
been five-and-thirty years from home, and want to see all that is
to be seen. "
King of Corpus (who was an incorrigible wag) was on the
point of pulling some dreadful long-bow, and pointing out a half-
dozen of people in the room as R and H and L———,
etc. , the most celebrated wits of that day; but I cut King's shins
under the table, and got the fellow to hold his tongue.
"Maxima debetur pueris," says Jones (a fellow of very kind
feeling, who has gone into the Church since); and writing on
his card to Hoskins, hinted to him that a boy was in the room,
and a gentleman who was quite a greenhorn, hence that the songs
had better be carefully selected.
And so they were. A lady's school might have come in, and
but for the smell of the cigars and brandy-and-water have taken
no harm by what happened. Why should it not always be so?
If there are any Caves of Harmony now, I warrant Messieurs
the landlords their interests would be better consulted by keeping
their singers within bounds. The very greatest scamps like pretty
songs, and are melted by them; so are honest people. It was
worth a guinea to see the simple colonel, and his delight at the
music. He forgot all about the distinguished wits whom he had
expected to see, in his ravishment over the glees.
"I say, Clive, this is delightful. This is better than your
aunt's concert with all the Squallinis, hey? I shall come here
often. Landlord, may I venture to ask those gentlemen if they
will take any refreshments? What are their names? " (to one
of his neighbors) "I was scarcely allowed to hear any singing
before I went out, except an oratorio, where I fell asleep; but
this, by George, is as fine as Incledon! " He became quite excited
over his sherry-and-water: "I'm sorry to see you, gentlemen,
drinking brandy-pawnee," says he. "It plays the deuce with
our young men in India. " He joined in all the choruses with
an exceedingly sweet voice. He laughed at the Derby Ram so
that it did one good to hear him; and when Hoskins sang (as
he did admirably) the 'Old English Gentleman,' and described
in measured cadence the death of that venerable aristocrat, tears
trickled down the honest warrior's cheek, while he held out his
hand to Hoskins and said, "Thank you, sir, for that song: it is
an honor to human nature. " On which Hoskins began to cry
too.
―――――――
## p. 14705 (#279) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14705
And now young Nadab, having been cautioned, commenced
one of those surprising feats of improvisation with which he
used to charm audiences. He took us all off, and had rhymes
pat about all the principal persons in the room: King's pins
(which he wore very splendidly), Martin's red waistcoat, etc. The
colonel was charmed with each feat, and joined delighted with
the chorus-Ritolderolritolderol ritolderolderay (bis). And when,
coming to the colonel himself, he burst out,-
A military gent I see - and while his face I scan,
I think you'll all agree with me he came from Hindostan :
And by his side sits laughing free- a youth with curly head;
I think you'll all agree with me- that he was best in bed.
Ritolderol, etc. ,-
-
-
―――――
the colonel laughed immensely at this sally, and clapped his
son, young Clive, on the shoulder. "Hear what he says of you,
sir? Clive, best be off to bed, my boy-ho, ho! No, no. We
know a trick worth two of that. 'We won't go home till morn-
ing, till daylight does appear. ' Why should we? Why shouldn't
my boy have innocent pleasure? I was allowed none when I
was a young chap, and the severity was nearly the ruin of me.
I must go and speak with that young man -the most astonishing
thing I ever heard in my life. What's his name? Mr. Nadab?
Mr. Nadab, sir, you have delighted me. May I make so free as
to ask you to come and dine with me to-morrow at six. Colonel
Newcome, if you please, Nerot's Hotel, Clifford Street.
I am
always proud to make the acquaintance of men of genius, and
you are one, or my name is not Newcome. "
"Sir, you do me Hhonor," says Mr. Nadab, pulling up his shirt
collar, "and perhaps the day will come when the world will do
me justice: may I put down your hhonored name for my book
of poems? "
"Of course, my dear sir," says the enthusiastic colonel: "I'll
send them all over India. Put me down for six copies, and do
me the favor to bring them to-morrow when you come to din-
ner. "
And now, Mr. Hoskins asking if any gentleman would volun-
teer a song, what was our amazement when the simple Colonel
offered to sing himself, at which the room applauded vociferously;
while methought poor Clive Newcome hung down his head and
blushed as red as a peony. I felt for the young lad; and thought
what my own sensations would have been, if in that place, my
XXV-920
## p. 14706 (#280) ##########################################
14706
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
own uncle, Major Pendennis, had suddenly proposed to exert his
lyrical powers.
The Colonel selected the ditty of Wapping Old Stairs' (a
ballad so sweet and touching that surely any English poet might
be proud to be the father of it); and he sang this quaint and
charming old song in an exceedingly pleasant voice, with flour-
ishes and roulades in the old Incledon manner, which has pretty
nearly passed away. The singer gave his heart and soul to the
simple ballad, and delivered Molly's gentle appeal so pathetically
that even the professional gentlemen hummed and buzzed a sin-
cere applause; and some wags who were inclined to jeer at the
beginning of the performance, clinked their glasses and rapped
their sticks with quite a respectful enthusiasm. When the song
was over, Clive held up his head too; after the shock of the first
verse, looked round with surprise and pleasure in his eyes: and
we, I need not say, backed our friend, delighted to see him come
out of his queer scrape so triumphantly. The colonel bowed
and smiled with very pleasant good-nature at our plaudits. It
was like Dr. Primrose preaching his sermon in the prison. There
was something touching in the naïveté and kindness of the placid
and simple gentleman.
Great Hoskins, placed on high amid the tuneful choir, was
pleased to signify his approbation, and gave his guest's health in
his usual dignified manner. "I am much obliged to you, sir,"
said Mr. Hoskins; "the room ought to be much obliged to you,
I drink your 'ealth and song, sir;" and he bowed to the colonel
politely over his glass of brandy-and-water, of which he absorbed
a little in his customer's honor. "I have not heard that song,"
he was kind enough to say, "better performed since Mr. Incle-
don sung it. He was a great singer, sir, and I may say, in the
words of our immortal Shakespeare, that, 'take him for all in all,
we shall not look upon his like again. ""
The colonel blushed in his turn, and turning round to his
boy with an arch smile, said, "I learnt it from Incledon. I
used to slip out from Grey Friars to hear him, Heaven bless me,
forty years ago; and I used to be flogged afterward, and serve.
me right too. Lord! Lord! how the time passes! " He drank off
his sherry-and-water, and fell back in his chair: we could see
he was thinking about his youth-the golden time, the happy,
the bright, the unforgotten. I was myself nearly two-and-twenty
years of age at that period, and felt as old as,-ay, older than
the colonel.
## p. 14707 (#281) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14707
While he was singing his ballad, there had walked, or rather
reeled, into the room, a gentleman in a military frock-coat and
duck trousers of dubious hue, with whose name and person some
of my readers are perhaps already acquainted. In fact, it was
my friend Captain Costigan, in his usual condition at this hour.
of the night.
Holding on by various tables, the captain had sidled up,
without accident to himself or any of the jugs and glasses round
about him, to the table where we sat, and had taken his place
near the writer, his old acquaintance. He warbled the refrain of
the colonel's song, not inharmoniously; and saluted its pathetic
conclusion with a subdued hiccough, and a plentiful effusion of
tears. "Bedad it is a beautiful song," says he, "and many a
time I heard poor Harry Incledon sing it. "
"He's a great character," whispered that unlucky King of
Corpus to his neighbor the colonel; "was a captain in the army.
We call him the General. Captain Costigan, will you take some-
thing to drink? »
"Bedad I will," says the captain, “and I'll sing ye a song tu. ”
And having procured a glass of whisky-and-water from the
passing waiter, the poor old man-settling his face into a hor-
rid grin, and leering as he was wont when he gave what he called
one of his prime songs-began his music.
The unlucky wretch, who scarcely knew what he was doing or
saying, selected one of the most outrageous performances of his
répertoire, fired off a tipsy howl by way of overture, and away
he went. At the end of the second verse the colonel started
up, clapping on his hat, seizing his stick, and looking as fero-
cious as though he had been going to do battle with a Pindaree.
"Silence! " he roared out.
"Hear, hear! " cried certain wags at a farther table. "Go on,
Costigan," said others.
"Go on! " cries the colonel in his high voice, trembling with
anger. "Does any gentleman say 'Go on'? Does any man who
has a wife and sisters, or children at home, say 'Go on' to such
disgusting ribaldry as this? Do you dare, sir, to call yourself a
gentleman, and to say that you hold the king's commission, and
to sit down among Christians and men of honor, and defile the
ears of young boys with this wicked baiderdash! "
"Why do you bring young boys here, old boy! " cries a voice
of the malcontents.
## p. 14708 (#282) ##########################################
14708
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
"Why? Because I thought I was coming to a society of
gentlemen," cried out the indignant Colonel. "Because I never
could have believed that Englishmen could meet together and
allow a man, and an old man, so to disgrace himself. For shame,
you old wretch! Go home to your bed, you hoary old sinner!
And for my part, I'm not sorry that my son should see, for
once in his life, to what shame and degradation and dishonor,
drunkenness and whisky may bring a man. Never mind the
change, sir! curse the change! " says the colonel, facing the
amazed waiter: "keep it till you see me in this place again;
which will be never-by George, never! " And shouldering his
stick, and scowling round at the company of scared bacchanalians,
the indignant gentleman stalked away, his boy after him.
Clive seemed rather shamefaced; but I fear the rest of the
company looked still more foolish.
"Aussi que diable venait-il faire dans cette galère? »* says
King of Corpus to Jones of Trinity: and Jones gave a shrug of
his shoulders which were smarting, perhaps; for that uplifted
cane of the colonel's had somehow fallen on the back of every
man in the room.
―――――
COLONEL NEWCOME'S DEATH.
From The Newcomes'
LIVE, and the boy sometimes with him, used to go daily to
Grey Friars, where the colonel still lay ill. After some
days the fever which had attacked him left him; but left
him so weak and enfeebled that he could only go from his bed
to the chair by his fireside. The season was exceedingly bitter;
the chamber which he inhabited was warm and spacious: it was
considered unadvisable to move him until he had attained greater
strength and till warmer weather. The medical men of the House
hoped he might rally in spring. My friend Dr. Goodenough.
came to him; he hoped too, but not with a hopeful face. A
chamber, luckily vacant, hard by the colonel's, was assigned to
his friends, where we sat when we were too many for him.
Besides his customary attendant, he had two dear and watchful
nurses, who were almost always with him,- Ethel, and Madame
de Florac who had passed many a faithful year by an old man's
*«But what the devil did he come to a place like this for? »
## p. 14709 (#283) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14709
bedside; who would have come, as to a work of religion, to any
sick couch, much more to this one, where he lay for whose life
she would once gladly have given her own.
But our colonel, we all were obliged to acknowledge, was no
more our friend of old days. He knew us again, and was good
to every one round him, as his wont was; especially, when Boy
came his old eyes lighted up with simple happiness, and with
eager trembling hands he would seek under his bedclothes, or
the pockets of his dressing-gown, for toys or cakes, which he
had caused to be purchased for his grandson. There was a little
laughing, red-cheeked, white-headed gown-boy of the school, to
whom the old man had taken a great fancy. One of the symp-
toms of his returning consciousness and recovery, as we hoped,
was his calling for this child, who pleased our friend by his arch-
ness and merry ways; and who, to the old gentleman's unfailing
delight, used to call him "Codd Colonel. " "Tell little F— that
Codd Colonel wants to see him;" and the little gown-boy was
brought to him: and the colonel would listen to him for hours,
and hear all about his lessons and his play; and prattle, almost
as childishly, about Dr. Raine and his own early school-days.
The boys of the school, it must be said, had heard the noble.
old gentleman's touching history, and had all got to know and
love him. They came every day to hear news of him; sent him
in books and papers to amuse him; and some benevolent young
souls God's blessing on all honest boys, say I-painted theat-
rical characters and sent them in to Codd Colonel's grandson.
The little fellow was made free of gown-boys, and once came
thence to his grandfather in a little gown, which delighted the
old man hugely. Boy said he would like to be a little gown-
boy; and I make no doubt, when he is old enough, his father will
get him that post, and put him under the tuition of my friend
Dr. Senior.
So weeks passed away, during which our dear old friend still
remained with us. His mind was gone at intervals, but would
rally feebly; and with his consciousness returned his love, his
simplicity, his sweetness. He would talk French with Madame
de Florac; at which time his memory appeared to awaken with
surprising vividness, his cheek flushed, and he was a youth again,
-
a youth all love and hope,—a stricken old man, with a beard
as white as snow covering the noble careworn face. At such
times he called her by her Christian name of Léonore; he
## p. 14710 (#284) ##########################################
14710
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
addressed courtly old words of regard and kindness to the aged
lady; anon he wandered in his talk, and spoke to her as if they
still were young. Now, as in those early days, his heart was
pure; no anger remained in it; no guile tainted it: only peace
and good-will dwelt in it.
Rosey's death had seemed to shock him for a while when
the unconscious little boy spoke of it. Before that circumstance,
Clive had even forborne to wear mourning, lest the news should
agitate his father. The colonel remained silent and was very
much disturbed all that day, but he never appeared to com-
prehend the fact quite; and once or twice afterward asked why
she did not come to see him? She was prevented, he supposed-
she was prevented, he said, with a look of terror; - he never
once otherwise alluded to that unlucky tyrant of his household
who had made his last years so unhappy.
The circumstance of Clive's legacy he never understood; but
more than once spoke of Barnes to Ethel, and sent his compli-
ments to him, and said he should like to shake him by the hand.
Barnes Newcome never once offered to touch that honored hand,
though his sister bore her uncle's message to him. They came
often from Bryanstone Square; Mrs. Hobson even offered to sit
with the colonel, and read to him, and brought him books for
his improvement. But her presence disturbed him; he cared not
for her books: the two nurses whom he loved faithfully watched
him; and my wife and I were admitted to him sometimes, both
of whom he honored with regard and recognition. As for F. B. ,
in order to be near his colonel, did not that good fellow take up
his lodgings in Cistercian Lane, at the Red Cow? He is one
whose errors, let us hope, shall be pardoned, quia multum amavit.
I am sure he felt ten times more joy at hearing of Clive's legacy
than if thousands had been bequeathed to himself. May good
health and good fortune speed him!
The days went on; and our hopes, raised sometimes, began to
flicker and fall. One evening the colonel left his chair for his
bed in pretty good spirits; but passed a disturbed night, and the
next morning was too weak to rise. Then he remained in his
bed, and his friends visited him there. One afternoon he asked
for his little gown-boy, and the child was brought to him, and
sat by the bed with a very awe-stricken face; and then gathered
courage, and tried to amuse him by telling him how it was a
half-holiday, and they were having a cricket match with the
## p. 14711 (#285) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
147II
St. Peter's boys in the green, and Grey Friars was in and win-
ning. The colonel quite understood about it: he would like to
see the game; he had played many a game on that green when
he was a boy. He grew excited: Clive dismissed his father's lit-
tle friend, and put a sovereign into his hand; and away he ran
to say that Codd Colonel had come into a fortune, and to buy
tarts, and to see the match out. I, curre, little white-haired gown-
boy! Heaven speed you, little friend.
After the child had gone, Thomas Newcome began to wander
more and more. He talked louder; he gave the word of com-
mand, spoke Hindustanee as if to his men. Then he spoke words
in French rapidly, seizing a hand that was near him, and crying,
"Toujours, toujours! " But it was Ethel's hand which he took.
Ethel and Clive and the nurse were in the room with him; the
nurse came to us, who were sitting in the adjoining apartment;
Madame de Florac was there with my wife and Bayham.
At the look in the woman's countenance Madame de Florac
started up.
"He is very bad; he wanders a great deal," the
nurse whispered. The French lady fell instantly on her knees,
and remained rigid in prayer.
Some time afterward Ethel came in with a scared face to our
pale group. "He is calling for you again, dear lady," she said,
going up to Madame de Florac, who was still kneeling; "and
just now he said he wanted Pendennis to take care of his boy.
He will not know you. " She hid her tears as she spoke.
She went into the room where Clive was at the bed's foot:
the old man within it talked on rapidly for a while; then again
he would sigh and be still; once more I heard him say hur-
riedly, "Take care of him when I'm in India;" and then with a
heart-rending voice he called out, "Léonore, Léonore! " She
was kneeling by his side now. The patient voice sank into faint.
murmurs; only a moan now and then announced that he was not
asleep.
At the usual evening hour the chapel bell began to toll, and
Thomas Newcome's hands outside the bed feebly beat time. And
just as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile shone over
his face, and he lifted up his head a little, and quickly said,
«< Adsum! " and fell back. It was the word we used at school
when names were called; and lo, he, whose heart was as that of a
little child, had answered to his name, and stood in the presence
of The Master.
## p. 14712 (#286) ##########################################
14712
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
FROM THE CHRONICLE OF THE DRUM›
AⓇ
T PARIS, hard by the Maine barriers,
Whoever will choose to repair,
Midst a dozen of wooden-legged warriors
May haply fall in with old Pierre.
On the sunshiny bench of a tavern
He sits and he prates of old wars,
And moistens his pipe of tobacco
With a drink that is named after Mars.
The beer makes his tongue run the quicker,
And as long as his tap never fails,
Thus over his favorite liquor`
Old Peter will tell his old tales.
Says he, "In my life's ninety summers
Strange changes and chances I've seen,-
So here's to all gentlemen drummers
That ever have thumped on a skin.
"Brought up in the art military.
For four generations we are;
My ancestors drummed for King Harry,
The Huguenot lad of Navarre.
And as each man in life has his station
According as Fortune may fix,
While Condé was waving the baton,
My grandsire was trolling the sticks.
-
"Ah! those were the days for commanders!
What glories my grandfather won,
Ere bigots and lackeys and panders
The fortunes of France had undone!
In Germany, Flanders, and Holland,-
What foeman resisted us then?
No; my grandsire was ever victorious,-
My grandsire and Monsieur Turenne.
"The princes that day passed before us,
Our countrymen's glory and hope:
Monsieur, who was learned in Horace,
D'Artois, who could dance the tight-rope.
One night we kept guard for the Queen
At her Majesty's opera-box,
While the King, that majestical monarch,
Sat filing at home at his locks.
## p. 14713 (#287) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14713
་
"Yes, I drummed for the fair Antoinette,
And so smiling she looked and so tender,
That our officers, privates, and drummers
All vowed they would die to defend her.
But she cared not for us honest fellows,
Who fought and who bled in her wars:
She sneered at our gallant Rochambeau,
And turned Lafayette out of doors.
"Ventrebleu! then I swore great oath,
No more to such tyrants to kneel;
And so, just to keep up my drumming,
One day I drummed down the Bastille.
Ho, landlord! a stoup of fresh wine:
Come, comrades, a bumper we'll try,
And drink to the year eighty-nine
And the glorious fourth of July!
"Then bravely our cannon it thundered
As onward our patriots bore:
Our enemies were but a hundred,
And we twenty thousand or more.
They carried the news to King Louis;
He heard it as calm as you please,
And like a majestical monarch,
Kept filing his locks and his keys.
"We showed our republican courage:
We stormed and we broke the great gate in,
And we murdered the insolent governor
For daring to keep us . a-waiting.
Lambesc and his squadrons stood by;
They never stirred finger or thumb:
The saucy aristocrats trembled
As they heard the republican drum.
"Hurrah! what a storm was a-brewing
The day of our vengeance was come!
Through scenes of what carnage and ruin
Did I beat on the patriot drum!
Let's drink to the famed tenth of August:
At midnight I beat the tattoo,
And woke up the pikemen of Paris
To follow the bold Barbaroux.
B
L
## p. 14714 (#288) ##########################################
14714
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
"You all know the Place de la Concorde?
'Tis hard by the Tuileries wall;
Mid terraces, fountains, and statues,
There rises an obelisk tall.
There rises an obelisk tall,
All garnished and gilded the base is:
'Tis surely the gayest of all
Our beautiful city's gay places.
"Around it are gardens and flowers;
And the Cities of France on their thrones,
Each crowned with his circlet of flowers,
Sits watching this biggest of stones!
I love to go sit in the sun there,
The flowers and fountains to see,
And to think of the deeds that were done there
In the glorious year ninety-three.
"'Twas here stood the Altar of Freedom;
And though neither marble nor gilding
Was used in those days to adorn
Our simple republican building,-
Corbleu! but the MÈRE GUILLOTINE
Cared little for splendor or show,
So you gave her an axe and a beam,
And a plank and a basket or so.
"Awful, and proud, and erect,
Here sat our republican goddess:
Each morning her table we decked
With dainty aristocrats' bodies.
The people each day flocked around
As she sat at her meat and her wine:
'Twas always the use of our nation
To witness the sovereign dine.
"Young virgins with fair golden tresses,
Old silver-haired prelates and priests,
Dukes, marquises, barons, princesses,
Were splendidly served at her feasts.
Ventrebleu! but we pampered our ogress
With the best that our nation could bring;
And dainty she grew in her progress,
And called for the head of a King!
## p. 14715 (#289) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14715
"She called for the blood of our King,
And straight from his prison we drew him;
And to her with shouting we led him,
And took him, and bound him, and slew him.
The Monarchs of Europe against me
Have plotted a godless alliance:
I'll fling them the head of King Louis,'
She said, 'as my gage of defiance. '
"I see him, as now for a moment
Away from his jailers he broke;
And stood at the foot of the scaffold,
And lingered, and fain would have spoke.
'Ho, drummer! quick, silence yon Capet,'
Says Santerre, with a beat of your drum':
Lustily then did I tap it,
And the son of St. Louis was dumb. "
WHAT IS GREATNESS?
From The Chronicle of the Drum'
A
H, GENTLE, tender lady mine!
The winter wind blows cold and shrill:
Come, fill me one more glass of wine,
And give the silly fools their will.
And what care we for war and wrack,
How kings and heroes rise and fall?
Look yonder,* in his coffin black
There lies the greatest of them all!
To pluck him down, and keep him up,
Died many million human souls; -
'Tis twelve o'clock and time to sup:
Bid Mary heap the fire with coals.
He captured many thousand guns;
He wrote "The Great" before his name;
And dying, only left his sons
The recollection of his shame.
Though more than half the world was his,
He died without a rood his own;
*This ballad was written at Paris at the time of the second funeral of
Napoleon.
## p. 14716 (#290) ##########################################
14716
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
And borrowed from his enemies
Six foot of ground to lie upon.
He fought a thousand glorious wars,
And more than half the world was his;
And somewhere now, in yonder stars,
Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is.
THE WHITE SQUALL
ON
N DECK, beneath the awning,
I dozing lay and yawning:
It was the gray of dawning,
Ere yet the sun arose;
And above the funnel's roaring,
And the fitful winds' deploring,
I heard the cabin snoring
With universal nose.
I could hear the passengers snorting,
I envied their disporting-
Vainly I was courting.
The pleasure of a doze!
So I lay, and wondered why light
Came not, and watched the twilight,
And the glimmer of the skylight,
That shot across the deck,
And the binnacle pale and steady,
And the dull glimpse of the dead-eye,
And the sparks in fiery eddy
That whirled from the chimney neck.
In our jovial floating prison
There was sleep from fore to mizzen,
And never a star had risen
The hazy sky to speck.
Strange company we harbored;
We'd a hundred Jews to larboard,
Unwashed, uncombed, unbarbered -
Jews black, and brown, and gray:
With terror it would seize ye,
And make your souls uneasy,
To see those Rabbis greasy,
Who did naught but scratch and pray:
## p. 14717 (#291) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14717
Their dirty children puking —
Their dirty saucepans cooking-
Their dirty fingers hooking
Their swarming fleas away.
-
To starboard, Turks and Greeks were -
Whiskered and brown their cheeks were
Enormous wide their breeks were,
Their pipes did puff alway;
Each on his mat allotted
In silence smoked and squatted,
Whilst round their children trotted
In pretty, pleasant play.
He can't but smile who traces
The smiles on those brown faces,
And the pretty prattling graces
Of those small heathens gay.
And so the hours kept tolling,
And through the ocean rolling
Went the brave Iberia bowling
Before the break of day—
When A SQUALL, upon a sudden,
Came o'er the waters scudding:
And the clouds began to gather,
And the sea was lashed to lather,
And the lowering thunder grumbled,
And the lightning jumped and tumbled,
And the ship, and all the ocean,
Woke up in wild commotion.
Then the wind set up a howling,
And the poodle dog a yowling,
And the cocks began a crowing,
And the old cow raised a lowing,
As she heard the tempest blowing;
And fowls and geese did cackle,
And the cordage and the tackle
Began to shriek and crackle;
And the spray dashed o'er the funnels,
And down the deck in runnels;
And the rushing water soaks all,
From the seamen in the fo'ksal
To the stokers whose black faces
Peer out of their bed places;
## p. 14718 (#292) ##########################################
14718
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
And the captain he was bawling,
And the sailors pulling, hauling,
And the quarter-deck tarpauling
Was shivered in the squalling;
And the passengers awaken,
Most pitifully shaken;
And the steward jumps up, and hastens
For the necessary basins.
Then the Greeks they groaned and quivered,
And they knelt, and moaned, and shivered,
As the plunging waters met them
And splashed and overset them:
And they call in their emergence
Upon countless saints and virgins;
And their marrowbones are bended,
And they think the world is ended.
And the Turkish women for'ard
Were frightened and behorror'd;
And shrieking and bewildering,
The mothers clutched their children;
The men sang "Allah! Illah!
Mashallah Bismillah! "
As the warring waters doused them,
And splashed them and soused them,
And they called upon the Prophet,
And thought but little of it.
Then all the fleas in Jewry
Jumped up and bit like fury;
And the progeny of Jacob
Did on the main-deck wake up
(I wot those greasy Rabbins
Would never pay for cabins);
And each man moaned and jabbered in
His filthy Jewish gaberdine,
In woe and lamentation,
And howling consternation.
And the splashing water drenches
Their dirty brats and wenches;
And they crawl from bales and benches
In a hundred thousand stenches.
This was the White Squall famous,
Which latterly o'ercame us,
## p. 14719 (#293) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14719
And which all will well remember
On the 28th September;
A
When a Prussian captain of Lancers
(Those tight-laced, whiskered prancers)-
Came on the deck astonished,
By that wild squall admonished,
And wondering cried, "Potztausend!
Wie ist der Sturm jetzt brausend! ”
And looked at Captain Lewis,
Who calmly stood and blew his
Cigar in all the bustle,
And scorned the tempest's tussle.
And oft we've thought thereafter
How he beat the storm to laughter;
For well he knew his vessel
With that vain wind could wrestle;
And when a wreck we thought her,
And doomed ourselves to slaughter,
How gayly he fought her,
And through the hubbub brought her,
And as the tempest caught her,
Cried, "GEORGE! SOME BRANDY-AND-WATER! "
And when, its force expended,
The harmless storm was ended,
And as the sunrise splendid
Came blushing o'er the sea,
I thought, as day was breaking,
My little girls were waking,
And smiling, and making
A prayer at home for me.
THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE
STREET there is in Paris famous,
For which no rhyme our language yields:
Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is-
The New Street of the Little Fields.
And here's an inn, not rich and splendid,
But still in comfortable case:
The which in youth I oft attended,
To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse.
## p. 14720 (#294) ##########################################
14720
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is:
A sort of soup or broth, or brew,
Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes,
That Greenwich never could outdo;
Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron,
Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace,-
All these you eat at TERRÉ's tavern,
In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Indeed a rich and savory stew 'tis ;
And true philosophers, methinks,
Who love all sorts of natural beauties,
Should love good victuals and good drinks.
And Cordelier or Benedictine
Might gladly, sure, his lot embrace,
Nor find a fast-day too afflicting,
Which served him up a Bouillabaisse.
I wonder if the house still there is?
Yes, here the lamp is, as before;
The smiling red-cheeked écaillère is
Still opening oysters at the door.
IS TERRÉ still alive and able?
I recollect his droll grimace:
He'd come and smile before your table,
And hope you liked your Bouillabaisse.
We enter, nothing's changed or older.
"How's Monsieur TERRÉ, waiter, pray? "
The waiter stares and shrugs his shoulder:
"Monsieur is dead this many a day. "-
"It is the lot of saint and sinner:
So honest TERRE'S run his race. ".
"What will Monsieur require for dinner? ».
"Say, do you still cook Bouillabaisse ? »
-
-
"Oh, oui, Monsieur," 's the waiter's answer:
"Quel vin Monsieur désire-t-il ? » —
"Tell me a good one. "—"That I can, sir:
The Chambertin with yellow seal. "
"SO TERRÉ's gone," I say, and sink in
My old accustomed corner-place:
"He's done with feasting and with drinking,
With Burgundy and Bouillabaisse. "
## p. 14721 (#295) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14721
XXV-921
My old accustomed corner here is,
The table still is in the nook:
Ah! vanished many a busy year is
This well-known chair since last I took.
When first I saw ye, cari luoghi,
I'd scarce a beard upon my face;
And now, a grizzled, grim old fogy,
I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse.
Where are you, old companions trusty
Of early days, here met to dine?
Come, waiter! quick, a flagon crusty-
I'll pledge them in the good old wine.
The kind old voices and old faces
My memory can quick retrace;
Around the board they take their places,
And share the wine and Bouillabaisse.
There's Jack has made a wondrous marriage;
There's laughing Tom is laughing yet;
There's brave Augustus drives his carriage;
There's poor old Fred in the Gazette;
On James's head the grass is growing:
Good Lord! the world has wagged apace
Since here we set the claret flowing,
And drank, and ate the Bouillabaisse.
Ah me! how quick the days are flitting!
I mind me of a time that's gone,
When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting,
In this same place - but not alone.
A fair young form was nestled near me,
A dear, dear face looked fondly up,
And sweetly spoke and smiled to cheer me
There's no one now to share my cup.
**
I drink it as the Fates ordain it.
Come, fill it, and have done with rhymes:
Fill up the lonely glass and drain it
In memory of dear old times.
Welcome the wine, whate'er the seal is:
And sit you down and say your grace
With thankful heart, whate'er the meal is.
Here comes the smoking Bouillabaisse!
## p. 14722 (#296) ##########################################
14722
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
PEG OF LIMAVADDY
IDING from Coleraine
R (Famed for lovely Kitty),
Came a Cockney bound
Unto Derry city;
Weary was his soul;
Shivering and sad, he
Bumped along the road
Leads to Limavaddy.
Mountains stretched around. —
Gloomy was their tinting;
And the horse's hoofs
Made a dismal clinting;
Wind upon the heath
Howling was and piping,
On the heath and bog,
Black with many a snipe in.
Mid the bogs of black,
Silver pools were flashing,
Crows upon their sides
Pecking were and splashing.
Cockney on the car
Closer folds his plaidy,
Grumbling at the road
Leads to Limavaddy.
Through the crashing woods
Autumn brawled and blustered,
Tossing round about
Leaves the hue of mustard;
Yonder lay Lough Foyle,
Which a storm was whipping,
Covering with the mist
Lake and shores and shipping.
Up and down the hill
(Nothing could be bolder),
Horse went with a raw
Bleeding on his shoulder.
"Where are horses changed? "
Said I to the laddy
Driving on the box:
"Sir, at Limavaddy. "
## p. 14723 (#297) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14723
Limavaddy inn's
But a humble bait-house,
Where you may procure
Whisky and potatoes;
Landlord at the door
Gives a smiling welcome
To the shivering wights
Who to this hotel come.
Landlady within
Sits and knits a stocking,
With a wary foot
Baby's cradle rocking.
To the chimney nook
Having found admittance,
There I watch a pup
Playing with two kittens;
(Playing round the fire,
Which of blazing turf is,
Roaring to the pot
Which bubbles with the murphies;)
And the cradled babe
Fond the mother nursed it,
Singing it a song
As she twists the worsted!
Up and down the stair
Two more young-ones patter,—
Twins were never seen
Dirtier or fatter;
Both have mottled legs,
Both have snubby noses,
Both have Here the host
Kindly interposes:·
"Sure you must be froze
With the sleet and hail, sir:
So will you have some punch,
Or will you have some ale, sir? "
-
:-
Presently a maid
Enters with the liquor
(Half a pint of ale
Frothing in a beaker).
Gads! I didn't know
What my beating heart meant:
## p. 14724 (#298) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
14724
Hebe's self, I thought,
Entered the apartment.
As she came she smiled;
And the smile bewitching,
On my word and honor,
Lighted all the kitchen!
With a curtsy neat
Greeting the new-comer,
Lovely, smiling Peg
Offers me the rummer.
But my trembling hand
Up the beaker tilted,
And the glass of ale
Every drop I spilt it;
Spilt it every drop
(Dames, who read my volumes,
Pardon such a word)
On my what-d'ye-call-'ems!
Witnessing the sight
Of that dire disaster,
Out began to laugh
Misses, maid, and master;
Such a merry peal
'Specially Miss Peg's was,
(As the glass of ale
Trickling down my legs was),
That the joyful sound
Of that mingling laughter
Echoed in my ears
Many a long day after.
Such a silver peal!
In the meadows listening,
You who've heard the bells
Ringing to a christening;
You who ever heard
Caradori pretty,
Smiling like an angel,
Singing Giovinetti,'-
Fancy Peggy's laugh,
-
Sweet and clear and cheerful,
At my pantaloons
With half a pint of beer full!
## p. 14725 (#299) ##########################################
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
When the laugh was done,
Peg, the pretty hussy,
Moved about the room
Wonderfully busy:
Now she looks to see
If the kettle keeps hot;
Now she rubs the spoons,
Now she cleans the teapot;
Now she sets the cups
Trimly and secure;
Now she scours a pot:
And so it was I drew her.
Thus it was I drew her
Scouring of a kettle.
(Faith! her blushing cheeks
Reddened on the metal! )
Ah! but 'tis in vain
That I try to sketch it:
The pot perhaps is like,
But Peggy's face is wretched.
