REMARKS ON ALTHAM AND HIS
WIFE.

THE writer of this little tale is decidedly a member of what a certain correspondent of ours has stamped, we suspect pretty indelibly, with the name of the Cockney School." He is, however, apparently a clever, and, in spite of several affectations of manner, and even of a more seriously culpable twist in some of his notions of human life, an amiable man-we are, upon the whole, pleased with him, and have read his story from beginning to endthe highest compliment for which, from those hacked in the ways of booksfrom those to whom coach-parcels come weekly, and smack-bails monthly, a modern author of the serious or of the comic breed can hope.

The scene of his tale is laid in the very heart of the kingdom of Cockaigne. Its hero is a clerk or secretary at the beginning of the book, then he keeps a music-shop, and then he is a schoolmaster at one of the "House Establishments" on the road to Camberwell. He inhabits a parlour furnished with an upright piano-forte, a small sofa, a fine brasshandled tea-urn, several prints framed in oak, and two plaster of Paris casts in niches. A few poems and novels are disposed at one end in shelves edged with green baize, and above these there is placed a "down-looking bust of one of those old Greeks." The "taste of this" is just as it should be; the only pity is, that so well furnished a mansion should want a mistress one to pour out the tea, thrum on the forte-piano, order " loaf-puddings" for dinner, and comfort with the appearance of a well-washed face, neat cap, and slim fingers, the elegant dilettante who rather pays for, than Occupies its chambers.

goes one evening with his friend (and biographer) to the theatre, to see Miss O'Neill play Imogen, and there, even in the pit, his stars have prepared for him the first view of his beloved. An old gentleman (of course an annuitant) and his daughter come in too late to get seats; Frank and his friend accommodate the young lady with one of their's, and take the other in turn with the annuitant. Peu-a-peu on se lie davantage-a critical conversation is commenced, in which the old annuitant, his daughter, Mr Altham, and his frier.d, discuss the merits of the play and the performance, every bit as well as they could have done, although Hazlitt himself (the Aristotle of the same school whose Homer is Mr Leigh Hunt) had been at their elbows to prompt them. The party are, of course, too fine for staying the "foolish farce;" they despise Liston, and rush to the piazzas. But alas! the heavens interfere to interrupt their departure.

"The air, we thought, struck damp on our coming to the outer passages of the theatre, and we were surprised to find them intersected by a number of wet and muddy paths; as we advanced, a pretty smart pattering of rain became audible, and we missed the usual vociferation and bustle of the streets,-nothing remained but the sound of coach-wheels, so that we knew with tolerable accuracy before we got out what sort of rain it was we had to encounter. The door was at length pulled open, and what a night! Ten thousand drops, flung back by the violence of their descent on the flag stones, took the shapes of so many diminutive pyramids, and seemed chasing each other before the wind,-others were boiling in an immense passion in the gutters; and when every now and then a pause in this ebullition would occur, you saw the lamps and shop lights almost as plainly reflected in the pavement as if they had fallen on a body of clear water; then the storm, having as it were gathered breath, began to drive away with increased violence, and in an instant the ground was fretted again by those innumerable little pyramids, and the reflections were broken into atoms.'

All in good time. Frank Altham

rain continues on their arrival at the

A blade of grasse,

Or shake the downie blow-ball from his stalke,'

no,-she carried in her face, and in the significance of her black eyes, the signs of health and animal spirits ;-her shape was round and fleshy where it ought to be so, and when she walked, it was put into that delicious kind of undulation which you always see in the gait of a fine woman."

An acquaintance commenced so delightfully, is " one of those things that may not be undone." A system of tea and supper visits is begun and kept up with spirit, till at last, one fine evening after tea, to use, as the author has already done, the beautiful words of the poet,

A warm, still, balmy night of June,
Low-murmuring with a fitful tune
From yonder grove of pines.
In the silence of that starry sky,
Exchanging vows of constancy,
Two happy lovers stray.

Frank and Miss Heseltine are married, he in the Cockney livery of yellow breeches and pink stockings, with chapeau, quizzing glass, and all needful apurtenances, she looking very charming in her blushes, and a new satin pelisse, fitted close to the waist. We had almost forgot to mention, that she has a white satin bonnet and Spanish "down-tumbling" feather to match. Miss Essex, the bride's maid, the old annuitant, the bride and bridegroom themselves, the maidservants of the family, clustered in the door-way, and peeping in with privileged impertinence-all, in short, except the parson, are extremely affected with the ceremony. The same thing may be remarked at an execution. The spectators gaze and weep, the unhappy VOL. III.

person, about to cut capers upon nothing, is pale, and dead already in every lineament, with expectation→→ but turn to the hangman. See with what a grave edifying solemnity and non-chalance he goes through his part

how he arranges the rope-ends, as if he were only tying up a window curtain-how he bows demurely to the culprit, as if he were only about to introduce him into a rout-room. Even so calm and business-like is the clergyman amidst the sobbings of a marriage. The breakfast or luncheontable is indeed laid out in style, as if for many partakers, but he, and he only appears to feel upon this occasion what Homer rather satirically calls the

66

holy desire" of stuffing ;—a wedding treat would cost comparatively little were it not for the guzzling of the divine.

'Postquam exempta fames, et amor compressus edendi," the whole party are stuffed into a glass-coach, and set out for Richmond. They dine there, but things look very dull and so so; and, with the exception of Miss Essex, they are all glad to leave the pair pretty early to themselves. The marriage jaunt extends no farther; the couple return to town next morning-at least before dinner ;-and the series of marriage dinners, the most dull and weariesome (expertus loquor). of all the many taedia vitæ consequent upon that rash step, is commenced.

At one of these marriage dinners, at the house of a Mr Marriott, they meet with a disagreeable methodist, one Simpson, who takes offence at the piano-forte, and talks about experiences, Baxter's Discourses, the Crook in the Lot, &c. while all the rest of the party are making themselves merry. Altham, who is a nice young fellow, but rather fond of shewing off, takes occasion, very needlessly, to enter into a religious controversy with this melancholy man, who is clothed in a black coat, dark striped Manchester stuff waistcoat, corduroy breeches, and ribbed cotton stockings, and who wears moreover a shirt without a frill," and a glaring "yellow broach." What horror must our elegant Frank have felt for this gothic costume! He certainly gives the hypochondriac some smart wipes touching his notions. The following we think the best hit.

66

"When a woman ornaments herself she pays a homage to nature, one of whose 3Z

principles is splendour. There is something amounting almost to impiety in the Quaker, who thinks to please the Divine Being by a system so opposite to his own. Should he chance to walk into a spring meadow, what must he think of his eternal drab, on beholding that bright green floor, from which a thousand golden eyes are looking up to a blue arch above them. The dames and chevaliers represented in the pictures of Watteau, with dresses of beautiful colours, and reclining in a garden under the shade of tall trees, with their guitars, their wine, and fruit, look like more religious and thankful persons than the starch and selfdenying Quakers."

Altham, it will be suspected, is an epicurean philosopher of the modern race; abhorrence between him and the man in the Manchester waistcoat is instant and reciprocal. The Methodist, however, is the more vindictive of the two, and sets about immediately doing all he can to ruin Altham's character, by representing him as an atheist, and "one that has made a compact with the enemy." What nonsense is this to be told of Londoners that attend wedding dinners in the 19th century! Our novellist makes it do however: poor Altham soon feels the frost of having sneered at the word "conventicle" in presence of a "religioso." The rumour flies far and near. His clerkship is taken from him; his music-shop fails; his school is deserted; the tax-gatherer is insolent; the butcher and baker won't trust his wife; one whole day is spent in starvation, and then he goes to jail for the window lights. Very opportunely, how ever, after he has been a few days in limbo, a Mr Butler, whose failure had once cost Altham a few hundred pounds, remits, from the regions of wealth in North America, " fourfold" what he owed him, in a paper parcel addressed to a respectable house in Cornhill. Things turns round as quickly as ever fortune's wheel did. The sofa, the plaster-of-paris casts, the piana-forte, the oak-framed prints -all make once again their appearance. They visit a pleasant circle of artists, &c.-Altham writes sonnets almost worthy of his betters-Laura produces annually a fine stout child; the world goes on, in short, as well as possible, and they are as happy as the day is long. As a specimen of our author's powers of narrative, we shall transcribe great part of the last chap

ter.

"The sleep of Frank during this night was calmer and more refreshing than any he had enjoyed for months past. Could the anodyne alone effected this? Before he opened his eyes, and while yet the light slumber of the morning was on him, he had an indistinct perception of unusual coolness, and freshness, and simple fragrance, like that which is brought by the air travelling over hay fields. This was associated with his dreams, out of which he feared to awake, the sensation was so luxurious. If he moved his head upon the pillow, his face seemed to brush against sweet and crisp sheets; and there was a perfect stillnes round him. How could this be? The room in the prison had other occupiers than himself; was hot, suffocating, noisy, and not clean. Putting away those dim warnings of identity that sometimes come to us in dreams, Frank endeavoured to cherish his slumbers and prolong the bland delusion. These very efforts, however, tended to dissipate it, till at length the unbroken and unaccustomed silence, that, as it were, vibrated in his ears, startled him wide awake. He gazed about; and instead of seeing the dingy walls, and smutched cieling of the prison-room, was astonished to find himself closed in by a tester and curtains of snowy whiteness. Pausing a moment or so in bewilderment, he drew them aside, and looked into a large, comfortable bed-room, across one of the lattices of which danced the shadows from a bough of a cherry-tree with its garland of white blossoms waving in the sun; and ever and anon he heard the small birds' mo

mentary chirpings that cut their sudden way through the silence, as do the twinklings of a remote star through the dark. While he was wondering at these things, the door of the room opened, and a woman entered on tiptoe, who, seeing Frank awake, rushed to the bedside and folded him in her arms.

"It is I,' said she, Laura, your wife, certainly over. come to tell you all our troubles are over, Do not look so faint, dear Frank,-there, lay your head on my bosom. We shall be happy again now, and merry too, I assure you. I have much good news to tell. What! not a smile for your wife? Well then, I'll go and fetch little Robert up, he is running about there in the garden.'

66 6 Stay, dear girl,' said Frank; I ought perplexes me so, that I dare not trust my to be rejoiced at what you tell me, but it self with rejoicings. I was almost distracted yesterday, I think it was yesterday,-and among other miseries it came into my mind that you were dead; so in my tears, and wretchedness, and stupefaction, I laid down on the bed in that close room; but I find myself now in a quiet chamber, with you speak of, Laura? But I feel weak and by my side. What garden is that you

giddy, and will lie down for a few minutes before you explain these mysteries. Sit by me, dear girl."

"A silence of half an hour ensued; when

Frank, feeling more composed, asked his wife to proceed with her communications. "Well then,' said she, Mr Butler, who has been very fortunate abroad, has returned your property with a fourfold increase; and on the very day that this arrived, the secret of your repeated ill success was laid open. It should have been made known before, for now we are out of reach of its consequences. Do you recollect having an argument with a Mr Simpson once at Marriott's house? This person in religious zeal, and resentment of that dispute, has gone about with strange stories against you; but he is afflicted now with sickness and remorse, and Mr Marriott, who says he is more unfortunate than vicious, has been comforting him, and promising your forgiveness.'

666

It is quite proper,' answered Frank, that he should be forgiven; and I sincerely hope he does not know the full effect his machinations have had on us. I cannot speak much about it at present, especially when I look at that pale face of thine, dear girl. But where am I, and how did I come here?'

"It's all a contrivance of mine, Frank,' she replied. "You are in Mr Marriott's house, in the village of West End. After you had been in bed yesterday for about an hour, I went to look at you. You looked exhausted; but the sleep you were in seemed so deep in consequence of the opiate you had taken, that I thought you might be safely removed, and in the morning open your eyes away from that hateful place. I knew that would do you good. Mr Marriott thought so too; and having satisfied the goaler for your liberation, we found means (I will tell how some of these days) to convey you here.'

"Other conversation ensued, till Frank was ready to descend into the breakfastroom, where, with unspeakable rapture, he kissed his two children, and was greeted most affectionately by his friend. He could not, however, in his weak state, at once leap into felicity, but kept dropping into little moods of low spirits, out of which Marriott endeavoured to rouse him by encomiums on the landscape, or, in a jocular strain, on the pastoral style of the breakfast table, which was adorned with flowers from his own garden. The mention of such pure and simple subjects, he judged would, above any other thing, refresh Frank's care-eaten soul. "You must abolish this thoughtfulness,' said he, at least for to-day, as I have an invitation for you and Mrs Altham to a pleasant party this evening. It is at the house of a neighbour of mine here, an artist. He has a manner of refining on these entertainments greatly; and when I tell you that you will see some beautiful sketches and pictures, and casts from antique sculpture, and choice books, and hear music well performed from your favourite masters, I think you will not refuse to go with me.'

6

“Thank you,' answered Frank, the

"And most delightful was the evening to Frank. I question if his very weariness, and the subdued state of his spirits, did not add a luxury to the time. He reposed quietly amidst the refined productions of art.

The day had been remarkably fine, and the evening, considering it was in the month of April, was warm and still. Marriott had not over-rated his friend's taste. The room in which the company assembled, opened, through windows reaching to the floor, on a vista of fir-trees. Between the windows were white marble slabs, heaped up with a profusion of rare plants of all colours, which were set off by the quiet light of a groundglass lamp; so that as you walked along the room, the fragrance of these exotics, in one part, was answered in another by the aromatic odour of the firs stealing in through the windows, which were left open for a short time in the early part of the evening. Then as to pictures, there were some beautiful sketches of landscapes in the highest taste of poetry, by the gentleman of the house, and a specimen or two of Claude, Gaspar Poussin, and some others. Casts from the antique, as large as the originals, stood in niches. There were the Apollo of the Vatican, the Venus rising from the bath, a Muse, and the graceful Antinous, with their several gentle attitudes. They looked as though they were confederated with the evening calm.

"The concert consisted of the opera of Proserpina, by Winter, with its pathetic airs and pastoral choruses, breathing of Sicilian fields. Winter, in this work, has indeed obeyed the innovation of the poet :

"Play to Proserpina Something Sicilian, some delightful pastoral; For she once played on the Sicilian shores, The shores of Etna, and sung Dorian songs.

"The entertainment was prolonged with wine and conversation, and the company walked home in the morning light.

"It is now a week since Frank's emancipation from his troubles. Mr Heseltine has returned from Wales, to the infinite joy of his children. Frank's debts are all paid, and enough remains of the money sent by Mr Butler to establish him in independence, according to his moderate desires."

We observe that our author is soon to publish a novel on a larger scale; if he would only give up his Cockney notions in regard to matters of taste and religion, that is, if he would just look a little deeper into things, he possesses fine talents, and is well adapted for such a task.