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protested that no unbeliever dared to touch dasbing, at a mad gallop, down the single
spurred his lean horse in advance of the I submitted to my fate, and opening the fugitive party. A retreat is the severest Book after I had duly applied my lips to it, trial of human courage ; and ours, I grieve I fell to singing the “ Bismillah errahman to say, was found signally wanting. Each errahim,” in pure orthodox Turkish fashion. of us urged the others on by the furious It so happened that I had lighted on a speed into which he lashed his own horse, chapter, which I had read over and over and in this manner, panting, foaming, and again in the course of my Arabic studies; all but exhausted, we reached Jusufs house and I, consequently, acquitted myself to at nightfall. Early next morning, we properfection. The old Turk was amused, and ceeded to Jarak, and recounted our adventhe Hodza admitted that my singing was as tures and sufferings to the patient ears of good as that of the truest believer.
Ahmed Beg. “I wish that little giour would embrace "It is what I expected,” said he. “But I the true faith!" said the Bimbasha; “I thought you had considered the danger, and would gladly keep him here as Hekim as my advice was not asked for, I did not Effendi !” and turning full upon me, he said, give it." in a louder but a most alarmingly insinua Thus terminated my first and last trip ting tone :
into Bosnia. “ Art thou a horseman 9" “ Yes!" “ And a smoker of chibuks and a drinker We copy the following piquant sketch from of coffee ?”
an old number of the New Monthly “Most certainly."
Magazine. Its authorship is ascribed to “Behold, these shall be thy labors. Stay
BULWER LYTTON :-
5-l'll print it,
And shame the rogues." ---POPE. wedlock, thou mayest marry girls as many as thou pleasest. What canst thou want My friend Fosbrook,-Dick Fosbrook, more ?"
for the abbreviation which his good-fellowI listened with astonishment to this ora- ship had won for him at Westminster and tion-for so it was for a Turk—and, in Cambridge did not desert him upon his reply, begged to decline the Bimbasha's entrance into the real man-and-woman generous offer with my warmest thanks, world of society,—was a very excellent adding :—“I have a house and a wife in my personage. He was something more subown country, nor must I leave them behind; stantial than a mere “good fellow;" he was and I acknowledge no master except God a well-informed, sensible man, with more and his law."
originality of talent than a reserved disposi“Hm !-I understand you: you would be tion permitted to rise to the surface. His your own master. Such things may be in shyness at length took refuge behind a titleyour own country; but here," added the page; that which he found no courage to Bimbasha energetically—“here there is no say, he resolved to write. “ Some sin, his master except me and the Sultan.”
parents' or his own,” indeed, bad dipped him All the Turks in the room crossed their in ink very early in life ; his infant elegy arms and bowed, while we thought it time upon his mother's favorite tabby had been to make our adieux. Mehmed and our es- wept over by every maiden aunt of the cort seemed inclined to see us off, but a house of Fosbrook; his translations had peremptory order from the Bimbasha kept been applauded by Busby ; his prize-poems them back.
had been printed at Cambridge ; he had In another moment we were on horseback, logged in the same house with Lord Byron;
his grandmother was a Hayley ; his bankers, / literary ephemera, basking in the transient Rogers, Towgood, and Co. Such a concat- sunshine of modern fame. enation of impulses was irresistible, and Soon afterwards I landed at Dover, and Dick Fosbrook became an author! One after the due proportion of wrangling at the fatal and highly unpoetical stumble befell custom-house, and grumbling at the dirers him upon the very brink of Helicon. He installments of tough beef-steaks and muddy married !-neither a muse, nor a Madame wine, wherewith Messrs. Wright defy the Dacier ; but a very pretty girl, -reasonably patience of the returning exile, I arrived in rich, and unreasonably silly ;-a professional town,-heard the muffin-bell once more alliance, however, for she was the daughter of a master in Chancery, and was already - "Squilla di lontano at the bar.
Che paja 'l giorno pianger che si muore !" The duties of his legal vocation did not at present interfere with his homage to the and deposited myself and my yellow valet, Nine; or, as his wife persisted in calling Gioacchino, in an hotel in Brook-street. The them, the foolish virgins. He wrote, he next day I wandered to my old club, which published, and wrote and published again ; was grown as fine and uncomfortable as and if “ the learned world said nothing to “ Ninette à la cour;" heard my contempohis paradoxes," he was equally taciturn as raries observe, as they glanced towards a to the amount of the printer's bill, which he | mirror, that I was miserably altered; lost annually pocketed with a genuine Christmas my way in a wilderness of new streets, and groan! He flattered himself he wrote for my footing in a plunge through the puddles immortality; that post-obit bond, the dis- of a Macadamized square ; and just as I was honoring of which falls so lightly on our recovering my equilibrium of body, if not of feelings !-and his wife and her relations, temper, I perceived a lank, rueful visage, who regarded authorship as a lawless and gazing sympathizingly upon my mischance, cabalistic calling, inimical to the interests of 'Twas a strangely familiar face,-'twas Fos. church and state, and an increasing family, brook's; not Dick's, but the “ popular auexulted in the premature deaths which un- | thor's !" failingly awaited his literary progeny. I His dolorous physiognomy expanded into dined with him once or twice at this period smiles on this unexpected recognition. He of his domestic felicity and public misfor- took my arm, and my way onwards, and we tunes, and I never beheld a happier or more turned literally and figuratively to the pascontented man; he laughed at my bad jokes sages of our youth, till he almost became upon withered laurels, and Lethe, and the Dick again by the force of reminiscence. stream of Time; he told me that the indul. Nay! had it not been for the deferential gent public was a dunce, “sans ears, sans salutation of two wise men, two very learned eyes, sans taste, sans every thing;" while pundits, and the raised hats of a bustling his wife, half aside, whispered to me that Westminster-ward member or two, whom the ingratitude of this senseless dunce bad we met scuffling down Regent-street, his nearly alienated his mind from his former popularity and his authorship would have unprofitable studies.
been forgotten between us. “Dine with me "Sur ces entrefaites," my own equally prof.to-morrow," said he at parting, “ we shall be itless pursuits led ine to the Continent; and alone, and can gossip over our Trinity days." in the course of the three years I was vaga. “With all my heart," I answered. “At bondizing through Italy, an incidental para- five-in Gower-street !" graph in Galignani's Journal bore honorable | “No, no! at seven in Curzon-street;" but mention of " Mr. Fosbrook, the popular au- the words came not trippingly from his thor!” “Poor Dick !" said I, involuntarily, tongue. “no relation of thine, I fear !"
The morrow came, and I was delighted to Yet 'twas the same,--the very Dick I find that, among the various removes of the knew! One of his least meritorious works day, dear old Bond-street had not changed had made what is called a bit; he was now its town residence, although“ almost ashamed the “ darling of the Muses;" and what is to know itself;" and as I re-paraded my better still, of the booksellers; one of the daily walks and ancient neighborhood, I was startled by the sight of poor Fosbrook's room-Mrs. Fosbrook, looking as dressy as face frowning in all the panes of the print- the frontispiece of “ La Belle Assemblée." shops. There, at least, he was no Dick of But if her gown were couleur de rose, her mine ; for his worthy countenance was dis- / brow was as black as Erebus ; the honors torted into a most cynical sneer, and he which had made him sad, had made her looked as blue and yellow as an Edinburgh cross. I did not care; I had never abbrereview.
viated her name; 80 as it was the May of a Rain came on, and I was driven to the London summer, I turned for consolation cruel refuge of a morning visit; when, towards a fire bright enough to roast St. having excused myself from an impromptu Lawrence. This movement necessitated a dinner invitation, through my “pre-engage- glance towards the card-rack, and I observed ment to my friend Mr. Fosbrook,”—“ The that its prominent features were“ At Homes" popular author ?"-I was amused to find that from L. House and D. House, and a "requests even to be his friend was a rising point in the honor" from the Dowager Lady C. “Ah! the thermometer of fashion ; and my inter- ah!" said I to myself, “ your popular author vention was humbly prayed to render him is ever a diner out." my friend's friend too. Poor Fosbrook! 1 I trust my friend Fosbrook was an habitual remember the time when I scarcely contrived one; or at least that he did not affect to be to procure a third man to make up dummy“ L'Amphitryon ou l'on dine.” The solid whist with him; he was considered a chart. joint and solid pudding of St. Pancras had ered bore, by right divine, and according to been ill-exchanged, in his menu, for the unthe most approved authorities!
approachable filets and fricandeaux of St. It was, however, with a feeling nearly George's; and hot sauterne and iced Lafitte amounting to respect for his new bonors, / were abominable substitutes for the old Mathat I trod lightly upon the creaking step of deira and old port of old times. By the my hackney.coach at the door of his new time the cloth and the lady were withdrawa, mansion, and was ushered by a sulky butler I was as much out of humor as Mrs. Foginto a very literary-looking drawing-room. brook with popular authorship. To judge Over the marble sphinxed chimney-piece by the lowering brow of my host, his feel. hung a fine portrait of its master, in oils, and ings were tuned to as doleful a key as my by Lawrence! and over a bubl secretaire, own. As we were tête-à-tête, I ventured an a spirited sketch by Hayter-being the ori- apostrophe to the memory of the Gowerginal of the authorial print of the Bond-street street port; it was a fortunate digression ; windows. Poor Fosbrook! I remember the the butler was summoned; the cork squeaked time when a paltry profile was the only beneath the screw, and Richard was himself copy of his countenance! Several proofs again! of splendid new engravings were “ordered ' “ You have an excellent house here, Fos. to lie on the table,” besides a few presenta- brook !" tion copies of the latest works of the day. “Why, yes ;—the situation is good, and “ Are they good for any thing ?" said I to the distribution better; yet somehow or Dick, who found me with a volume in my other, even in my perfection of a 'gentlehands.
man's room,' I always regret my Crusoe's " I really cannot take upon me to say," he cave in Gower-street. There I was never replied gravely, and with the air of a man interrupted by importunate idlers; my books who is afraid of committing himself. “One ungilt and unprisoned behind the glittering of the worst consequences of scribbling our wires of a library, came at my call; in short, selves is, that we have no leisure to look I was able to read, and think, and write, as over these light productions, which are some- I liked.” times far from unamusing."
“ And as others liked,” said I, courteously. “ We !"—thinks I to myself, editorial ; | "My return to England has discovered to while Richard (I will never Dick him any me an old friend in the most popular author more) turned to the final page of the several of the day.”. works, and determined their length as the Fosbrook literally shuddered at the word. standard of their merits.
“No more of that, an thou lovest me l” exA very light production now entered the claimed he, in a tone of acute sensibility.
“Keep the name for the first dog you wish | my family took me for a genius, and my to see hanged."
servants for a conjuror ;-but now—my " Pho! pho!” said I, “the mere cant of pages and myself are cut together.” affected modesty! You have won your “My dear Dick!” said I soothingly, for laurels bravely; do not wear them like a he had really talked himself into a fit of coward. They were long, it is true, in put. irritation, “ remember how often and how ting forth their verdant honors; but now it philosophically you have declared yourself would seem as “ Birnam wood were come to indifferent to the award of criticism.” Dunsinane.''
“ There you have me on the hip. My Fosbrook shook his head despondingly; wife's family, and all the generation of bores and his whole air was so completely that of at that, my former end of the town, are conMatthew's admirable hypochondriac, that, stantly reminding me that it is idle to value spite of myself, I burst into a hearty fit of public opinion, since I have often proved to laughter. By good luck it proved contagious, them that the world is an overgrown booby; and having roared and shouted“ à qui mieux to which I can only reply, like Benedict, mieux,” a happy tone of confidence was im- that “When I said I would die a bachelor, mediately established between us.
I did not think I should live to be married.' " The fact is, my dear fellow,” resumed When I wrote the public down an ass, I Fosbrook, lowering bis voice, “that I have little expected to become a popular author." led the life of a galley slave since I came to · But after all,” I observed, “ these are my title_”
mere trivial vexations compared with the “ Title ?"
glories of the daily incense burnt upon your "Of popular author! a title good for altars,—of the solid gains achieved by your nothing but to expose one without redress exertions." to the insolence of every scribbler whose “ I will show some of the daily incense," pen is the channel of his venom. No one said Fosbrook, opening his pocket-book ; presumes to insult a gentleman, or to tell a “unfortunately it is made to be read first man that he is a fool ; but a popular author and burnt afterwards. It is a paragraph is the property of the public,—' its goods, from a morning paper.” its chattels, its ox, its ass, its every thing ! Lege, Dick, lege.” a culprit stuck up in the pillory of celebrity “We copy the following interesting into be pelted by all the ragamuffins of the telligence from the Newcastle Mercury. times.”
Mr. Fosbrook the popular author. We " And yet I can remember your eyes be are happy to be the first to congratulate oar ing upturned towards the Temple of Fame, townsmen upon the near and dear claim ve as a devotee gazes upon the sanctuary.” can boast upon the parentage of this cele
" Ay, ay; I looked at it through a tele- brated man. Richard Toppletoe, formerly scope :
a master tailor in North Lane, but at the
period of his decease a much respected • 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view!
member of our corporation, proves to hare and the farther the better! I had not then been his maternal grandfather. Many still assumed the “foolscap uniform turned up surviving among us retain a lively rememwith ink;' I had not donned the livery of brance of the full-buckled flaxen wig and the booksellers to 'fetch and carry sing song brocaded waistcoat of old Toppletoe ; and up and down ! I published, it is true,—but there can be little doubt that from this ee what then? The sin lay dormant between centric knight of the shears, Mr. Fosbrook you and me and the press! I lived secure derives much of his originality of mind, his from criticism : not a reptile of a magazine baptismal name, and private fortune.' * deigned to tickle me with its puny antennæ. “ Very provoking, certainly,” said I, perMy wife, however angry, borrowed no sar- ceiving that some comment was unavoidable. casms from the leading reviews, I found “ Till I read that cursed paragraph," obnot Jeffrey's satire on her lips,-1 slept the served Fosbrook, “I had always believed next night well-was free-was bappy.' and proclaimed myself to be of irreproachOn the strength of my uncut pages, I passed able descent, and the heir of an old Northfor a literary man, in my own select circle; umberland family ; had I never become a
popular author, I should have remained in of their first application for a loan, on the ignorance that I had a Tuppletoe for my second edition of my last work ; nor does mother! But listen to ancther of these there exist a literary institution, or an esprecious bulletins of the state of my reputa- tablishment for the encouragement of the tion.
Fine Arts, for which my guineas have not “ Bow Street. Mr. Fosbrook.—Another been peremptorily claimed. Meanwhile, my instance of the irregularities of genius came law has long since left me in the lurch, and this morning before the attention of the my father-in-law abhors me because I play bench. The above popular author, returning shorts. He has persuaded my wife to send the froin a deep carouse with some brother wits, boys to school, lest I should undermine their
—some choice spirits, who appear to have morals; for the old gentleman holds that been partial to proof spirits,-chancing to all modern authors are atheists." unite the rampart valor of Othello with the “But what is become of your orthodox disastrous plight of Cassio, fell into an out friend, the Dean of — ?" rageous affray with the guardians of the “We have not been on speaking terms night-("Guardians! I wished they would these six months: he is persuaded he can make her a ward in Chancery !' ejaculated detect my hand in the anatomization of his Dick,) and was at length victoriously lodged Emancipation pamphlet in the new review." in the watch-house. Our worthy chief “And Lorimer, our college chum ?" magistrate considerately gave this delicate “Has basely deserted my cause ; he goes case a hearing in his private room; and about, 'with his hand in his breeches' after a few pertinent (qy. im ?) observations pocket, like a crocodile,' whispering that I to the delinquent, upon the respect due to have been puffed beyond my strength; that public decency, even from the genus irri. I have no stamina for the tug of war, and tabile, be fined him five shillings, and dis- shall run away, à la Goderich, at the first missed him with costs; judging, probably, shot. All my old friends affect to suppose that Mr. Fosbrook had already received that I have risen above them; and since I poetical justice in the shape of two black have been noticed by half a dozen rhyming eyes."
lords, my wife's relations say I am grown “ Very provoking," said I again. “And fine, and have given over inviting me ; while did you pass the night in the watch-house?” Sophia, as if in retribution, will never visit
Not I-I appeared before Sir Richard balf a mile from Russell-square,—the land as a witness in favor of an Irish applewom- of ancestors !-She is gone there to-night.” an, whom I had caught the parish beadle in “Mrs. Fosbrook gone out !” I exclaimed. the act of maltreating, by virtue of some “Then come with me to the Opera; we shall street bill. Unfortunately, I was recognized be in time for Brocard.” by some dirty reporter, who doubled bis “ Willingly, I have a silver ticket.” morning's pay by compounding this scur- We rose from table; the butler was rilous attack."
hastily summoned, and entered with a huge “ But of course you remonstrated with the and portentous packet in either hand. Dick editor
broke the seal of the largest, and read “I did; and my very forbearing letter aloudproduced a second paragraph, headed · Mr.
" Albemarle-street. Fosbrook, We are authorized by this “Dear Sir, I beg to forward you the centleman to state that he did not appear Number of the Review, which appearbefore Sir Richard Birnie with two black
ed this day, and which contains some strictures on your new work. Permit me to say
that I consider them highly illiberal, and “Well, well !" said I,“ these idle slanders, that I have always thought the editor an if they filch from you your good name, do envious little man. not steal the trash from your purse. Think
“I have the honor to be," of the solid profits, my dear Dick.”
&c. &c. &c. “I do, and with regret; for they are all “Don't read the article, my dear Dick. gone. Every poor relation, (Toppletoes in Pray don't. It will only make you bilious." particular,) and every literary acquaintance “I will not," he replied, resolutely tossing I bad in the world, gave ine the preference it aside, “ Martin 1-call a coach."