The Relics of General Chasse

by Anthony Trollope

That Belgium is now one of the European kingdoms, living by its ownlaws, resting on its own bottom, with a king and court, palaces andparliament of its own, is known to all the world. And a very nicelittle kingdom it is; full of old towns, fine Flemish pictures, andinteresting Gothic churches. But in the memory of very many of uswho do not think ourselves old men, Belgium, as it is now called--inthose days it used to be Flanders and Brabant--was a part ofHolland; and it obtained its own independence by a revolution. Inthat revolution the most important military step was the siege ofAntwerp, which was defended on the part of the Dutch by GeneralChasse, with the utmost gallantry, but nevertheless ineffectually.After the siege Antwerp became quite a show place; and among thevisitors who flocked there to talk of the gallant general, and tosee what remained of the great effort which he had made to defendthe place, were two Englishmen. One was the hero of this littlehistory; and the other was a young man of considerably less weightin the world. The less I say of the latter the better; but it isnecessary that I should give some description of the former.The Rev. Augustus Horne was, at the time of my narrative, abeneficed clergyman of the Church of England. The profession whichhe had graced sat easily on him. Its external marks and signs wereas pleasing to his friends as were its internal comforts to himself.He was a man of much quiet mirth, full of polished wit, and on somerare occasions he could descend to the more noisy hilarity of ajoke. Loved by his friends he loved all the world. He had known nocare and seen no sorrow. Always intended for holy orders he hadentered them without a scruple, and remained within their palewithout a regret. At twenty-four he had been a deacon, at twenty-seven a priest, at thirty a rector, and at thirty-five a prebendary;and as his rectory was rich and his prebendal stall well paid, theRev. Augustus Horne was called by all, and called himself, a happyman. His stature was about six feet two, and his corpulenceexceeded even those bounds which symmetry would have preferred asbeing most perfectly compatible even with such a height. Butnevertheless Mr. Horne was a well-made man; his hands and feet weresmall; his face was handsome, frank, and full of expression; hisbright eyes twinkled with humour; his finely-cut mouth disclosed twomarvellous rows of well-preserved ivory; and his slightly aquilinenose was just such a projection as one would wish to see on the faceof a well-fed good-natured dignitary of the Church of England. WhenI add to all this that the reverend gentleman was as generous as hewas rich--and the kind mother in whose arms he had been nurtured hadtaken care that he should never want--I need hardly say that I wasblessed with a very pleasant travelling companion.I must mention one more interesting particular. Mr. Horne was ratherinclined to dandyism, in an innocent way. His clerical starchedneckcloth was always of the whitest, his cambric handkerchief of thefinest, his bands adorned with the broadest border; his sable suitnever degenerated to a rusty brown; it not only gave on alloccasions glossy evidence of freshness, but also of the talent whichthe artisan had displayed in turning out a well-dressed clergyman ofthe Church of England. His hair was ever brushed with scrupulousattention, and showed in its regular waves the guardian care of eachseparate bristle. And all this was done with that ease and gracewhich should be the characteristics of a dignitary of theestablished English Church.I had accompanied Mr. Horne to the Rhine; and we had reachedBrussels on our return, just at the close of that revolution whichended in affording a throne to the son-in-law of George the Fourth.At that moment General Chasse's name and fame were in every man'smouth, and, like other curious admirers of the brave, Mr. Hornedetermined to devote two days to the scene of the late events atAntwerp. Antwerp, moreover, possesses perhaps the finest spire, andcertainly one of the three or four finest pictures, in the world.Of General Chasse, of the cathedral, and of the Rubens, I had heardmuch, and was therefore well pleased that such should be hisresolution. This accomplished we were to return to Brussels; andthence, via Ghent, Ostend, and Dover, I to complete my legal studiesin London, and Mr. Horne to enjoy once more the peaceful retirementof Ollerton rectory. As we were to be absent from Brussels but onenight we were enabled to indulge in the gratification of travellingwithout our luggage. A small sac-de-nuit was prepared; brushes,combs, razors, strops, a change of linen, &c. &c., were carefullyput up; but our heavy baggage, our coats, waistcoats, and otherwearing apparel were unnecessary. It was delightful to feel oneselfso light-handed. The reverend gentleman, with my humble self by hisside, left the portal of the Hotel de Belle Vue at 7 a.m., in goodhumour with all the world. There were no railroads in those days;but a cabriolet, big enough to hold six persons, with rope tracesand corresponding appendages, deposited us at the Golden Fleece insomething less than six hours. The inward man was duly fortified,and we started for the castle.It boots not here to describe the effects which gunpowder and grape-shot had had on the walls of Antwerp. Let the curious in thesematters read the horrors of the siege of Troy, or the history ofJerusalem taken by Titus. The one may be found in Homer, and theother in Josephus. Or if they prefer doings of a later date thereis the taking of Sebastopol, as narrated in the columns of theTimes newspaper. The accounts are equally true, instructive, andintelligible. In the mean time allow the Rev. Augustus Horne andmyself to enter the private chambers of the renowned though defeatedgeneral.We rambled for a while through the covered way, over the glacis andalong the counterscarp, and listened to the guide as he detailed tous, in already accustomed words, how the siege had gone. Then wegot into the private apartments of the general, and, havingdexterously shaken off our attendant, wandered at large among thedeserted rooms."It is clear that no one ever comes here," said I."No," said the Rev. Augustus; "it seems not; and to tell the truth,I don't know why any one should come. The chambers in themselvesare not attractive."What he said was true. They were plain, ugly, square, unfurnishedrooms, here a big one, and there a little one, as is usual in mosthouses;--unfurnished, that is, for the most part. In one place wedid find a table and a few chairs, in another a bedstead, and so on.But to me it was pleasant to indulge in those ruminations which anytraces of the great or unfortunate create in softly sympathisingminds. For a time we communicated our thoughts to each other as weroamed free as air through the apartments; and then I lingered for afew moments behind, while Mr. Horne moved on with a quicker step.At last I entered the bedchamber of the general, and there Iovertook my friend. He was inspecting, with much attention, anarticle of the great man's wardrobe which he held in his hand. Itwas precisely that virile habiliment to which a well-known gallantcaptain alludes in his conversation with the posthumous appearanceof Miss Bailey, as containing a Bank of England 5 pound note."The general must have been a large man, George, or he would hardlyhave filled these," said Mr. Horne, holding up to the light therespectable leathern articles in question. "He must have been avery large man,--the largest man in Antwerp, I should think; or elsehis tailor has done him more than justice."They were certainly large, and had about them a charming regimentalmilitary appearance. They were made of white leather, with brightmetal buttons at the knees and bright metal buttons at the top.They owned no pockets, and were, with the exception of thelegitimate outlet, continuous in the circumference of the waistband.No dangling strings gave them an appearance of senile imbecility.Were it not for a certain rigidity, sternness, and mentalinflexibility,--we will call it military ardour,--with which theywere imbued, they would have created envy in the bosom of a fox-hunter.Mr. Horne was no fox-hunter, but still he seemed to be irresistiblytaken with the lady-like propensity of wishing to wear them."Surely, George," he said, "the general must have been a stouter manthan I am"--and he contemplated his own proportions withcomplacency--"these what's-the-names are quite big enough for me."I differed in opinion, and was obliged to explain that I thought hedid the good living of Ollerton insufficient justice."I am sure they are large enough for me," he repeated, withconsiderable obstinacy. I smiled incredulously; and then to settlethe matter he resolved that he would try them on. Nobody had beenin these rooms for the last hour, and it appeared as though theywere never visited. Even the guide had not come on with us, but wasemployed in showing other parties about the fortifications. It wasclear that this portion of the building was left desolate, and thatthe experiment might be safely made. So the sportive rectordeclared that he would for a short time wear the regimentals whichhad once contained the valorous heart of General Chasse.With all decorum the Rev. Mr. Horne divested himself of the work ofthe London artist's needle, and, carefully placing his own garmentsbeyond the reach of dust, essayed to fit himself in military garb.At that important moment--at the critical instant of the attempt--the clatter of female voices was heard approaching the chamber.They must have suddenly come round some passage corner, for it wasevident by the sound that they were close upon us before we had anywarning of their advent. At this very minute Mr. Horne was somewhatembarrassed in his attempts, and was not fully in possession of hisusual active powers of movement, nor of his usual presence of mind.He only looked for escape; and seeing a door partly open, he withdifficulty retreated through it, and I followed him. We found thatwe were in a small dressing-room; and as by good luck the door wasdefended by an inner bolt, my friend was able to protect himself."There shall be another siege, at any rate as stout as the last,before I surrender," said he.As the ladies seemed inclined to linger in the room it became amatter of importance that the above-named articles should fit, notonly for ornament but for use. It was very cold, and Mr. Horne wasaltogether unused to move in a Highland sphere of life. But alas,alas! General Chasse had not been nurtured in the classicalretirement of Ollerton. The ungiving leather would stretch no pointto accommodate the divine, though it had been willing to minister tothe convenience of the soldier. Mr. Horne was vexed and chilled;and throwing the now hateful garments into a corner, and protectinghimself from the cold as best he might by standing with his kneestogether and his body somewhat bent so as to give the skirts of hiscoat an opportunity of doing extra duty, he begged me to see ifthose jabbering females were not going to leave him in peace torecover his own property. I accordingly went to the door, andopening it to a small extent I peeped through.Who shall describe my horror at the sight which I then saw? Thescene, which had hitherto been tinted with comic effect, was nowbecoming so decidedly tragic that I did not dare at once to acquaintmy worthy pastor with that which was occurring,--and, alas! hadalready occurred.Five country-women of our own--it was easy to know them by theirdress and general aspect--were standing in the middle of the room;and one of them, the centre of the group, the senior harpy of thelot, a maiden lady--I could have sworn to that--with a red nose,held in one hand a huge pair of scissors, and in the other--thealready devoted goods of my most unfortunate companion! Down fromthe waistband, through that goodly expanse, a fell gash had alreadygone through and through; and in useless, unbecoming disorder thebroadcloth fell pendant from her arm on this side and on that. Atthat moment I confess that I had not the courage to speak to Mr.Horne,--not even to look at him.I must describe that group. Of the figure next to me I could onlysee the back. It was a broad back done up in black silk not of thenewest. The whole figure, one may say, was dumpy. The black silkwas not long, as dresses now are worn, nor wide in its skirts. Inevery way it was skimpy, considering the breadth it had to cover;and below the silk I saw the heels of two thick shoes, and enough toswear by of two woollen stockings. Above the silk was a red andblue shawl; and above that a ponderous, elaborate brown bonnet, asto the materials of which I should not wish to undergo anexamination. Over and beyond this I could only see the backs of hertwo hands. They were held up as though in wonder at that which thered-nosed holder of the scissors had dared to do.Opposite to this lady, and with her face fully tamed to me, was akindly-looking, fat motherly woman, with light-coloured hair, not inthe best order. She was hot and scarlet with exercise, beingperhaps too stout for the steep steps of the fortress; and in onehand she held a handkerchief, with which from time to time she wipedher brow. In the other hand she held one of the extremities of myfriend's property, feeling--good, careful soul!--what was thetexture of the cloth. As she did so, I could see a glance ofapprobation pass across her warm features. I liked that lady'sface, in spite of her untidy hair, and felt that had she been alonemy friend would not have been injured.On either side of her there stood a flaxen-haired maiden, with longcurls, large blue eyes, fresh red cheeks, an undefined lumpy nose,and large good-humoured mouth. They were as like as two peas, onlythat one was half an inch taller than the other; and there was nodifficulty in discovering, at a moment's glance, that they were thechildren of that over-heated matron who was feeling the web of myfriend's cloth.But the principal figure was she who held the centre place in thegroup. She was tall and thin, with fierce-looking eyes, renderedmore fierce by the spectacles which she wore; with a red nose as Isaid before; and about her an undescribable something which quiteconvinced me that she had never known--could never know--aught ofthe comforts of married life. It was she who held the scissors andthe black garments. It was she who had given that unkind cut. As Ilooked at her she whisked herself quickly round from one companionto the other, triumphing in what she had done, and ready to triumphfurther in what she was about to do. I immediately conceived a deephatred for that Queen of the Harpies."Well, I suppose they can't be wanted again," said the mother,rubbing her forehead."Oh dear no!" said she of the red nose. "They are relics!" Ithought to leap forth; but for what purpose should I have leaped?The accursed scissors had already done their work; and the symmetry,nay, even the utility of the vestment was destroyed."General Chasse wore a very good article;--I will say that for him,"continued the mother."Of course he did!" said the Queen Harpy. "Why should he not,seeing that the country paid for it for him? Well, ladies, who'sfor having a bit?""Oh my! you won't go for to cut them up," said the stout back."Won't I," said the scissors; and she immediately made anotherincision. "Who's for having a bit? Don't all speak at once.""I should like a morsel for a pincushion," said flaxen-haired MissNo. 1, a young lady about nineteen, actuated by a general affectionfor all sword-bearing, fire-eating heroes. "I should like to havesomething to make me think of the poor general!"Snip, snip went the scissors with professional rapidity, and a roundpiece was extracted from the back of the calf of the left leg. Ishuddered with horror; and so did the Rev. Augustus Horne with cold."I hardly think it's proper to cut them up," said Miss No. 2."Oh isn't it?" said the harpy. "Then I'll do what's improper!" Andshe got her finger and thumb well through the holes in the scissors'handles. As she spoke resolution was plainly marked on her brow."Well, if they are to be cut up, I should certainly like a bit for apen-wiper," said No. 2. No. 2 was a literary young lady with aperiodical correspondence, a journal, and an album. Snip, snip wentthe scissors again, and the broad part of the upper right divisionafforded ample materials for a pen-wiper.Then the lady with the back, seeing that the desecration of thearticle had been completed, plucked up heart of courage and put inher little request; "I think I might have a needle-case out of it,"said she, "just as a suvneer of the poor general"--and a longfragment cut rapidly out of the waistband afforded her unqualifieddelight.Mamma, with the hot face and untidy hair, came next. "Well, girls,"she said, "as you are all served, I don't see why I'm to be leftout. Perhaps, Miss Grogram"--she was an old maid, you see--"perhaps, Miss Grogram, you could get me as much as would make adecent-sized reticule."There was not the slightest difficulty in doing this. The harpy inthe centre again went to work, snip, snip, and extracting from thatportion of the affairs which usually sustained the greater portionof Mr. Horne's weight two large round pieces of cloth, presentedthem to the well-pleased matron. "The general knew well where toget a bit of good broadcloth, certainly," said she, again feelingthe pieces."And now for No. 1," said she whom I so absolutely hated; "I thinkthere is still enough for a pair of slippers. There's nothing sonice for the house as good black cloth slippers that are warm to thefeet and don't show the dirt." And so saying, she spread out on thefloor the lacerated remainders."There's a nice bit there," said young lady No. 2, poking at one ofthe pockets with the end of her parasol."Yes," said the harpy, contemplating her plunder. "But I'm thinkingwhether I couldn't get leggings as well. I always wear leggings inthe thick of the winter." And so she concluded her operations, andthere was nothing left but a melancholy skeleton of seams andbuttons.All this having been achieved, they pocketed their plunder andprepared to depart. There are people who have a wonderful appetitefor relics. A stone with which Washington had broken a window whena boy--with which he had done so or had not, for there is littledifference; a button that was on a coat of Napoleon's, or on that ofone of his lackeys; a bullet said to have been picked up at Waterlooor Bunker's Hill; these, and suchlike things are great treasures.And their most desirable characteristic is the ease with which theyare attained. Any bullet or any button does the work. Faith aloneis necessary. And now these ladies had made themselves happy andglorious with "Relics" of General Chasse cut from the ill-usedhabiliments of an elderly English gentleman!They departed at last, and Mr. Horne, for once in an ill humour,followed me into the bedroom. Here I must be excused if I draw aveil over his manly sorrow at discovering what fate had done forhim. Remember what was his position, unclothed in the Castle ofAntwerp! The nearest suitable change for those which had beendestroyed was locked up in his portmanteau at the Hotel de Belle Ruein Brussels! He had nothing left to him--literally nothing, in thatAntwerp world. There was no other wretched being wandering then inthat Dutch town so utterly denuded of the goods of life. For whatis a man fit,--for what can he be fit,--when left in such aposition? There are some evils which seem utterly to crush a man;and if there be any misfortune to which a man may be allowed tosuccumb without imputation on his manliness, surely it is such asthis. How was Mr. Horne to return to his hotel without incurringthe displeasure of the municipality? That was my first thought.He had a cloak, but it was at the inn; and I found that my friendwas oppressed with a great horror at the idea of being left alone;so that I could not go in search of it. There is an old saying,that no man is a hero to his valet de chambre, the reason doubtlessbeing this, that it is customary for his valet to see the herodivested of those trappings in which so much of the heroic consists.Who reverences a clergyman without his gown, or a warrior withouthis sword and sabre-tasche? What would even Minerva be without herhelmet?I do not wish it to be understood that I no longer reverenced Mr.Horne because he was in an undress; but he himself certainly lostmuch of his composed, well-sustained dignity of demeanour. He wasfearful and querulous, cold, and rather cross. When, forgetting hissize, I offered him my own, he thought that I was laughing at him.He began to be afraid that the story would get abroad, and he thenand there exacted a promise that I would never tell it during hislifetime. I have kept my word; but now my old friend has beengathered to his fathers, full of years.At last I got him to the hotel. It was long before he would leavethe castle, cloaked though he was;--not, indeed, till the shades ofevening had dimmed the outlines of men and things, and madeindistinct the outward garniture of those who passed to and fro inthe streets. Then, wrapped in his cloak, Mr. Horne followed mealong the quays and through the narrowest of the streets; and atlength, without venturing to return the gaze of any one in the hotelcourt, he made his way up to his own bedroom.Dinnerless and supperless he went to his couch. But when there hedid consent to receive some consolation in the shape of muttoncutlets and fried potatoes, a savory omelet, and a bottle of claret.The mutton cutlets and fried potatoes at the Golden Fleece atAntwerp are--or were then, for I am speaking now of well-nigh thirtyyears since--remarkably good; the claret, also, was of the best; andso, by degrees, the look of despairing dismay passed from his face,and some scintillations of the old fire returned to his eyes."I wonder whether they find themselves much happier for what theyhave got?" said he."A great deal happier," said I. "They'll boast of those things toall their friends at home, and we shall doubtless see some accountof their success in the newspapers.""It would be delightful to expose their blunder,--to show them up.Would it not, George? To turn the tables on them?""Yes," said I, "I should like to have the laugh against them.""So would I, only that I should compromise myself by telling thestory. It wouldn't do at all to have it told at Oxford with my nameattached to it."To this also I assented. To what would I not have assented in myanxiety to make him happy after his misery?But all was not over yet. He was in bed now, but it was necessarythat he should rise again on the morrow. At home, in England, whatwas required might perhaps have been made during the night; buthere, among the slow Flemings, any such exertion would have beenimpossible. Mr. Horne, moreover, had no desire to be troubled inhis retirement by a tailor.Now the landlord of the Golden Fleece was a very stout man,--a verystout man indeed. Looking at him as he stood with his hands in hispockets at the portal of his own establishment, I could not butthink that he was stouter even than Mr. Horne. But then he wascertainly much shorter, and the want of due proportion probablyadded to his unwieldy appearance. I walked round him once or twicewishfully, measuring him in my eye, and thinking of what texturemight be the Sunday best of such a man. The clothes which he thenhad on were certainly not exactly suited to Mr. Horne's tastes.He saw that I was observing him, and appeared uneasy and offended.I had already ascertained that he spoke a little English. OfFlemish I knew literally nothing, and in French, with which probablyhe was also acquainted, I was by no means voluble. The businesswhich I had to transact was intricate, and I required the use of mymother-tongue.It was intricate and delicate, and difficult withal. I began byremarking on the weather, but he did not take my remarks kindly. Iam inclined to fancy that he thought I was desirous of borrowingmoney from him. At any rate he gave me no encouragement in my firstadvances."Vat misfortune?" at last he asked, when I had succeeded in makinghim understand that a gentleman up stairs required his assistance."He has lost these things," and I took hold of my own garments."It's a long story, or I'd tell you how; but he has not a pair inthe world till he gets back to Brussels,--unless you can lend himone.""Lost hees br-?" and he opened his eyes wide, and looked at me withastonishment."Yes, yes, exactly so," said I, interrupting him. "Most astonishingthing, isn't it? But it's quite true.""Vas hees money in de pocket?" asked my auspicious landlord."No, no, no. It's not so bad as that, his money is all right. Ihad the money, luckily.""Ah! dat is better. But he have lost hees b-?""Yes, yes;" I was now getting rather impatient. "There is nomistake about it. He has lost them as sure as you stand there."And then I proceeded to explain that as the gentleman in questionwas very stout, and as he, the landlord, was stoat also, he mightassist us in this great calamity by a loan from his own wardrobe.When he found that the money was not in the pocket, and that hisbill therefore would be paid, he was not indisposed to be gracious.He would, he said, desire his servant to take up what was requiredto Mr. Horne's chamber. I endeavoured to make him understand that asombre colour would be preferable; but he only answered that hewould put the best that he had at the gentleman's disposal. Hecould not think of offering anything less than his best on such anoccasion. And then he turned his back and went his way, mutteringas he went something in Flemish, which I believed to be anexclamation of astonishment that any man should, under anycircumstances, lose such an article.It was now getting late; so when I had taken a short stroll bymyself, I went to bed without disturbing Mr. Horne again that night.On the following morning I thought it best not to go to him unlesshe sent for me; so I desired the boots to let him know that I hadordered breakfast in a private room, and that I would await himthere unless he wished to see me. He sent me word back to say thathe would be with me very shortly.He did not keep me waiting above half an hour, but I confess thatthat half hour was not pleasantly spent. I feared that his temperwould be tried in dressing, and that he would not be able to eat hisbreakfast in a happy state of mind. So that when I heard his heavyfootstep advancing along the passage my heart did misgive me, and Ifelt that I was trembling.That step was certainly slower and more ponderous than usual. Therewas always a certain dignity in the very sound of his movements, butnow this seemed to have been enhanced. To judge merely by the stepone would have said that a bishop was coming that way instead of aprebendary.And then he entered. In the upper half of his august person noalteration was perceptible. The hair was as regular and as gracefulas ever, the handkerchief as white, the coat as immaculate; butbelow his well-filled waistcoat a pair of red plush began to shinein unmitigated splendour, and continued from thence down to withinan inch above his knee; nor, as it appeared, could any pullinginduce them to descend lower. Mr. Horne always wore black silkstockings,--at least so the world supposed, but it was now apparentthat the world had been wrong in presuming him to be guilty of suchextravagance. Those, at any rate, which he exhibited on the presentoccasion were more economical. They were silk to the calf, butthence upwards they continued their career in white cotton. Thesethen followed the plush; first two snowy, full-sized pillars ofwhite, and then two jet columns of flossy silk. Such was theappearance, on that well-remembered morning, of the Rev. AugustusHorne, as he entered the room in which his breakfast was prepared.I could see at a glance that a dark frown contracted his eyebrows,and that the compressed muscles of his upper lip gave a strangedegree of austerity to his open face. He carried his head proudlyon high, determined to be dignified in spite of his misfortunes, andadvanced two steps into the room without a remark, as though he wereable to show that neither red plush nor black cloth could disarrangethe equal poise of his mighty mind!And after all what are a man's garments but the outward husks inwhich the fruit is kept, duly tempered from the wind?"The rank is but the guinea stamp,

　　The man's the gowd for a' that."

　　And is not the tailor's art as little worthy, as insignificant asthat of the king who makes"A marquis, duke, and a' that"?Who would be content to think that his manly dignity depended on hiscoat and waistcoat, or his hold on the world's esteem on any othergarment of usual wear? That no such weakness soiled his mind Mr.Horne was determined to prove; and thus he entered the room withmeasured tread, and stern dignified demeanour.Having advanced two steps his eye caught mine. I do not knowwhether he was moved by some unconscious smile on my part;--for intruth I endeavoured to seem as indifferent as himself to the natureof his dress;--or whether he was invincibly tickled by some inwardfancy of his own, but suddenly his advancing step ceased, a broadflash of comic humour spread itself over his features, he retreatedwith his back against the wall, and then burst out into animmoderate roar of loud laughter.And I--what else could I then do but laugh? He laughed, and Ilaughed. He roared, and I roared. He lifted up his vast legs toview till the rays of the morning sun shone through the window onthe bright hues which he displayed; and he did not sit down to hisbreakfast till he had in every fantastic attitude shown off to thebest advantage the red plush of which he had so recently becomeproud.An Antwerp private cabriolet on that day reached the yard of theHotel de Belle Vue at about 4 p.m., and four waiters, in a frenzy ofastonishment, saw the Reverend Augustus Horne descend from thevehicle and seek his chamber dressed in the garments which I havedescribed. But I am inclined to think that he never again favouredany of his friends with such a sight.It was on the next evening after this that I went out to drink teawith two maiden ladies, relatives of mine, who kept a seminary forEnglish girls at Brussels. The Misses Macmanus were very worthywomen, and earned their bread in an upright, painstaking manner. Iwould not for worlds have passed through Brussels without payingthem this compliment. They were, however, perhaps a little dull,and I was aware that I should not probably meet in their drawing-room many of the fashionable inhabitants of the city. Mr. Horne haddeclined to accompany me; but in doing so he was good enough toexpress a warm admiration for the character of my worthy cousins.The elder Miss Macmanus, in her little note, had informed me thatshe would have the pleasure of introducing me to a few of my"compatriots." I presumed she meant Englishmen; and as I was in thehabit of meeting such every day of my life at home, I cannot saythat I was peculiarly elevated by the promise. When, however, Ientered the room, there was no Englishman there;--there was no manof any kind. There were twelve ladies collected together with theview of making the evening pass agreeably to me, the single virilebeing among them all. I felt as though I were a sort of Mohammed inParadise; but I certainly felt also that the Paradise was none of myown choosing.In the centre of the amphitheatre which the ladies formed sat thetwo Misses Macmanus;--there, at least, they sat when they hadcompleted the process of shaking hands with me. To the left ofthem, making one wing of the semicircle, were arranged the fivepupils by attending to whom the Misses Macmanus earned their living;and the other wing consisted of the five ladies who had furnishedthemselves with relics of General Chasse. They were my"compatriots."I was introduced to them all, one after the other; but their namesdid not abide in my memory one moment. I was thinking too much ofthe singularity of the adventure, and could not attend to suchminutiae. That the red-rosed harpy was Miss Grogram, that Iremembered;--that, I may say, I shall never forget. But whether themotherly lady with the somewhat blowsy hair was Mrs. Jones, or Mrs.Green, or Mrs. Walker, I cannot now say. The dumpy female with thebroad back was always called Aunt Sally by the young ladies.Too much sugar spoils one's tea; I think I have heard that evenprosperity will cloy when it comes in overdoses; and a schoolboy hasbeen known to be overdone with jam. I myself have always beenpeculiarly attached to ladies' society, and have avoided bachelorparties as things execrable in their very nature. But on thisspecial occasion I felt myself to be that schoolboy;--I wasliterally overdone with jam. My tea was all sugar, so that I couldnot drink it. I was one among twelve. What could I do or say? Theproportion of alloy was too small to have any effect in changing thenature of the virgin silver, and the conversation became absolutelyfeminine.I must confess also that my previous experience as to thesecompatriots of mine had not prejudiced me in their favour. Iregarded them with,--I am ashamed to say so, seeing that they wereladies,--but almost with loathing. When last I had seen them theiroccupation had reminded me of some obscene feast of harpies, oralmost of ghouls. They had brought down to the verge of desperationthe man whom of all men I most venerated. On these accounts I wasinclined to be taciturn with reference to them;--and then what couldI have to say to the Misses Macmanus's five pupils?My cousin at first made an effort or two in my favour, but theseefforts were fruitless. I soon died away into utter unrecognisedinsignificance, and the conversation, as I have before said, becamefeminine. And indeed that horrid Miss Grogram, who was, as it were,the princess of the ghouls, nearly monopolised the whole of it.Mamma Jones--we will call her Jones for the occasion--put in a wordnow and then, as did also the elder and more energetic MissMacmanus. The dumpy lady with the broad back ate tea-cakeincessantly; the two daughters looked scornful, as though they wereabove their company with reference to the five pupils; and the fivepupils themselves sat in a row with the utmost propriety, each withher hands crossed on her lap before her.Of what they were talking at last I became utterly oblivious. Theyhad ignored me, going into realms of muslin, questions of maid-servants, female rights, and cheap under-clothing; and I thereforehad ignored them. My mind had gone back to Mr. Horne and hisgarments. While they spoke of their rights, I was thinking of hiswrongs; when they mentioned the price of flannel, I thought of thatof broadcloth.But of a sudden my attention was arrested. Miss Macmanus had saidsomething of the black silks of Antwerp, when Miss Grogram repliedthat she had just returned from that city and had there enjoyed agreat success. My cousin had again asked something about the blacksilks, thinking, no doubt, that Miss Grogram had achieved somebargain, but that lady had soon undeceived her."Oh no," said Miss Grogram, "it was at the castle. We got suchbeautiful relics of General Chasse! Didn't we, Mrs. Jones?""Indeed we did," said Mrs. Jones, bringing out from beneath theskirts of her dress and ostensibly displaying a large black bag."And I've got such a beautiful needle-case," said the broad-back,displaying her prize. "I've been making it up all the morning."And she handed over the article to Miss Macmanus."And only look at this duck of a pen-wiper," simpered flaxen-hairNo. 2. "Only think of wiping one's pens with relics of GeneralChasse!" and she handed it over to the other Miss Macmanus."And mine's a pin-cushion," said No. 1, exhibiting the trophy."But that's nothing to what I've got," said Miss Grogram. "In thefirst place, there's a pair of slippers,--a beautiful pair;--they'renot made up yet, of course; and then--"The two Misses Macmanus and their five pupils were sitting open-eared, open-eyed, and open-mouthed. How all these sombre-lookingarticles could be relics of General Chasse did not at first appearclear to them."What are they, Miss Grogram?" said the elder Miss Macmanus, holdingthe needle-case in one hand and Mrs. Jones's bag in the other. MissMacmanus was a strong-minded female, and I reverenced my cousin whenI saw the decided way in which she intended to put down the greedyarrogance of Miss Grogram."They are relics.""But where do they come from, Miss Grogram?""Why, from the castle, to be sure;--from General Chasse's ownrooms.""Did anybody sell them to you?""No.""Or give them to you?""Why, no;--at least not exactly give.""There they were, and she took 'em," said the broad-back. Oh, whata look Miss Grogram gave her! "Took them! of course I took them.That is, you took them as much as I did. They were things that wefound lying about.""What things?" asked Miss Macmanus, in a peculiarly strong-mindedtone.Miss Grogram seemed to be for a moment silenced. I had beenignored, as I have said, and my existence forgotten; but now Iobserved that the eyes of the culprits were turned towards me,--theeyes, that is, of four of them. Mrs. Jones looked at me frombeneath her fan; the two girls glanced at me furtively, and thentheir eyes fell to the lowest flounces of their frocks.Miss Grogram turned her spectacles right upon me, and I fancied thatshe nodded her head at me as a sort of answer to Miss Macmanus. Thefive pupils opened their mouths and eyes wider; but she of the broadback was nothing abashed. It would have been nothing to her hadthere been a dozen gentlemen in the room. "We just found a pair ofblack--." The whole truth was told in the plainest possiblelanguage."Oh, Aunt Sally!" "Aunt Sally, how can you?" "Hold your tongue,Aunt Sally!""And then Miss Grogram just cut them up with her scissors,"continued Aunt Sally, not a whit abashed, "and gave us each a bit,only she took more than half for herself." It was clear to me thatthere had been some quarrel, some delicious quarrel, between AuntSally and Miss Grogram. Through the whole adventure I had ratherrespected Aunt Sally. "She took more than half for herself,"continued Aunt Sally. "She kept all the--""Jemima," said the elder Miss Macmanus, interrupting the speaker andaddressing her sister, "it is time, I think, for the young ladies toretire. Will you be kind enough to see them to their rooms?" Thefive pupils thereupon rose from their seats--and courtesied. Theythen left the room in file, the younger Miss Macmanus showing themthe way."But we haven't done any harm, have we?" asked Mrs. Jones, with sometremulousness in her voice."Well, I don't know," said Miss Macmanus. "What I'm thinking of nowis this;--to whom, I wonder, did the garments properly belong? Whohad been the owner and wearer of them?""Why, General Chasse of course," said Miss Grogram."They were the general's," repeated the two young ladies; blushing,however, as they alluded to the subject."Well, we thought they were the general's, certainly; and a veryexcellent article they were," said Mrs. Jones."Perhaps they were the butler's?" said Aunt Sally. I certainly hadnot given her credit for so much sarcasm."Butler's!" exclaimed Miss Grogram, with a toss of her head."Oh, Aunt Sally, Aunt Sally! how can you?" shrieked the two youngladies."Oh laws!" ejaculated Mrs. Jones."I don't think that they could have belonged to the butler," saidMiss Macmanus, with much authority, "seeing that domestics in thiscountry are never clad in garments of that description; so far myown observation enables me to speak with certainty. But it isequally sure that they were never the property of the general latelyin command at Antwerp. Generals, when they are in full dress, wearornamental lace upon their--their regimentals; and when--" So muchshe said, and something more, which it may be unnecessary that Ishould repeat; but such were her eloquence and logic that no doubtwould have been left on the mind of any impartial hearer. If anargumentative speaker ever proved anything, Miss Macmanus provedthat General Chasse had never been the wearer of the article inquestion."But I know very well they were his!" said Miss Grogram, who was notan impartial hearer. "Of course they were; whose else's should theybe?""I'm sure I hope they were his," said one of the young ladies,almost crying."I wish I'd never taken it," said the other."Dear, dear, dear!" said Mrs. Jones."I'll give you my needle-case, Miss Grogram," said Aunt Sally.I had sat hitherto silent during the whole scene, meditating howbest I might confound the red-nosed harpy. Now, I thought, was thetime for me to strike in."I really think, ladies, that there has been some mistake," said I."There has been no mistake at all, sir!" said Miss Grogram."Perhaps not," I answered, very mildly; "very likely not. But someaffair of a similar nature was very much talked about in Antwerpyesterday.""Oh laws!" again ejaculated Mrs. Jones."The affair I allude to has been talked about a good deal,certainly," I continued. "But perhaps it may be altogether adifferent circumstance.""And what may be the circumstance to which you allude?" asked MissMacmanus, in the same authoritative tone."I dare say it has nothing to do with these ladies," said I; "but anarticle of dress, of the nature they have described, was cut up inthe Castle of Antwerp on the day before yesterday. It belonged to agentleman who was visiting the place; and I was given to understandthat he is determined to punish the people who have wronged him.""It can't be the same," said Miss Grogram; but I could see that shewas trembling."Oh laws! what will become of us?" said Mrs. Jones."You can all prove that I didn't touch them, and that I warned hernot," said Aunt Sally. In the mean time the two young ladies hadalmost fainted behind their fans."But how had it come to pass," asked Miss Macmanus, "that thegentleman had--""I know nothing more about it, cousin," said I; "only it does seemthat there is an odd coincidence."Immediately after this I took my leave. I saw that I had avenged myfriend, and spread dismay in the hearts of these who had injuredhim. I had learned in the course of the evening at what hotel thefive ladies were staying; and in the course of the next morning Isauntered into the hall, and finding one of the porters alone, askedif they were still there. The man told me that they had started bythe earliest diligence. "And," said he, "if you are a friend oftheirs, perhaps you will take charge of these things, which theyhave left behind them?" So saying, he pointed to a table at theback of the hall, on which were lying the black bag, the blackneedle-case, the black pin cushion, and the black pen-wiper. Therewas also a heap of fragments of cloth which I well knew had beenintended by Miss Grogram for the comfort of her feet and ancles.I declined the commission, however. "They were no special friendsof mine," I said; and I left all the relics still lying on thelittle table in the back hall."Upon the whole, I am satisfied!" said the Rev. Augustus Horne, whenI told him the finale of the story.

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *

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