her debts. She had sold gradually all her furniture, she had nothing left but this cross, bequeathed to her by her late mistress, and she had come to pawn it to procure for herself an asylum in l’Hospice des Menages. Man is naturally benevolent, the twenty persons round her, who heard the story, all gave her some tokens of the interest excited by it, and fortunately there were some so situated as to be able to lend her the money she wanted, requesting her to keep the pledge in her own hands.
My turn came; I presented my duplicate; I was desired to come again the following day. I asked the reason of a delay I had not before observed; I was told the article I wanted must be sent for from the head office, or I must go there and claim it myself. This was an opportunity for seeing an establishment, of which I as yet knew only one of the subdivisions, I submitted to the usual formalities, and set out for the rue des Blancs Manteaux: where the Mont de Piètè has established its grand depôt.
The magnificence of the building, its vast offices, the air of business about it, give at once an idea of the importance of such an establishment. Large warehouses occupy the first floor; and the pledges of every kind are arranged in admirable order. An immense hall, so managed as to prevent disorder and confusion, is open to the crowd of borrowers, who, with their packets, sometimes wait a whole day for the turn of the ticket they receive on their entrance. It is not unusual to see two or three hundred persons assembled in this apartment. They generally belong to the lower classes of society. The chief office seldom receives from the first hand, laces, trinkets, shawls, all those gew-gaws of luxury, all those ruinous superfluities, the value of which is only estimated in the circles where they are used. It is by means of the agents that the higher ranks communicate with the head; and it is to the discretion of these brokers that the luxurious, extravagant, and vain, confide the secret of their wants. The number of the ticket that had been given me, convinced me that it would not be possible for me to get the family watch before the evening, I therefore gave up the business, determining to come earlier another day. A clerk, who saw me going away, advised me not to come on a Saturday, when the people came in crowds to get money for their Sunday pleasures; and equally to avoid a Monday, the day when people come to borrow money to make up for the foolish expenses of the preceding day. This observation, which had been made in different words, by the agent, might form the foundation of serious reflections; but those who are interested in them have already made them, and those who are not would think it lost time to read them. L. Z.
THE DOG WITH TWO MASTERS.
[Original Translation from the German of Frederic Laun.]
[CONCLUDED FROM OUR LAST.]
Chapter 23. In which the hero does not appear to advantage.—Jeremiah had been wandering during several hours to no purpose. The hunting party seemed to have withdrawn to another part of the forest; and he began to grow so weary and hungry, that he resolved to return to the forest-house, whatever might be the consequences; because his wants were of such a nature, that they could not be trifled with any longer. One of them became, indeed, so pressing, that, rejecting the distant hostelry altogether, he resolved to satisfy it there and then; but as, notwithstanding the universally acknowledged exigency of such cases, decency required retirement, he cast his eyes about in all directions, and, having ascertained that there was no human creature within sight, he did what he could not help. Yet before he could recover his usual attitude and appearance, he heard the sound of horns at no great distance, and, almost at the same time, the hounds were upon him: they had probably lost the track of their real game, and appeared to regard him as a welcome substitute; they formed a circle around him, and called for their commanders with loud and unanimous barking.
Jeremiah had several times been a hunting himself, and he knew that the dogs will do nothing but bark, as long as the boar remains quiet; but that they rush upon him the moment he offers to stir; consequently his life and limbs were at stake, and it behoved him to preserve the position he was in, although it was the more unpleasant, as one foot happened to stand in the midst of an ant’s-hill, the inhabitants of which were already creeping upon the disturber of their republic. In the mean time, the hunters had come up, and they called in the dogs as soon as their laughter would permit. Jeremiah still flattered himself that the Princess might not be amongst them, as with her mild disposition it was not likely that she should be a lover of this kind of sport; but the hunting party having been chiefly arranged on her account, she could not have avoided joining it, and the poor sufferer had the mortification to distinguish her otherwise so welcome voice, as she was giving the needful directions; and his grief became boundless when he understood that he was recognized, although he had used the precaution of shutting his own eyes from the very beginning of the scene.
The hunters and dogs withdrew at last, and Mr. Schnackenberger was left to enjoy the wished-for privacy; but he was now in no humour for it. His appetite had, indeed, completely forsaken him, and he had also forgotten his lassitude; but he was, nevertheless, resolved to go in search of a dwelling-house, because the ants were tormenting him in every part of his body, and he was under the absolute necessity of stripping. He had the good luck to fall in with the landlord of the Forest-house, and so far to move him by the exposition of his distressful circumstances, that he actually managed to smuggle him into a little room, where he might relieve himself. The place was snug and retired, yet not so much so but that he could hear the loud bursts of laughter which the returning hunters set up at his expense. He heard plainly that he was called the master of the sow, and that his riding upon the stone-image, his supposed connexion with Mrs. Liquorice, and his being taken by the hounds for a boar, were all mixed up in so ludicrous a manner by the company, that his belonging to the swinish multitude could scarcely be doubted by any body to whom the facts were thus represented.
Chapter 24th. Explanations.—Before the collegian ventured to emerge from his retirement, he learned, by a pretty loud conversation which took place in an adjoining room, that Mr. De Pilsen had been at the bottom of the tricks by which he had been deluded into a belief of the appointments to meet the Princess. One of the chamber-maids in the suite of the Princess had written the notes which deceived him, and a bribed male attendant had undertaken to play upon the feelings of the widowed hostess. The instigator of the intrigue boasted highly of his performance; and he stated, moreover, that he thought Jeremiah a mere poltroon, notwithstanding his warlike and Herculean outside; in consequence of which he invited all present to give him the meeting at the Fox, where he intended to give the fellow a complete dressing in the evening.
This information was very agreeable to the listener, who had already made up his mind to drop his claims to the heart of the Princess. He felt that after the scene in the forest nothing could possibly place him again in an advantageous light with her; her fancy would ever represent him to her in the unglorious attitude in which he had there presented himself; and even the finest protestations of eternal love and devotion could only produce involuntary fits of laughter. Convinced of this truth, he had already thought of the farewell letter which it would be necessary to write; and he quite rejoiced when he perceived that there was no occasion for such a measure.
The landlord of the forest-house gave him also another piece of comfort, by telling him that Mrs. Liquorice and the valiant butcher had come to such terms with each other as would secure him from the further amorous attacks of that lady.
Chapter 25th. Jupiter in danger.—A messenger from the corporation was in waiting for Mr. Schnackenberger, at the turnpike, in order to request his attendance at the Town-hall; where, for the first time, a full court was held on a holiday. The cause of this extraordinary proceeding was Jupiter. His howlings had been so intolerable at the inn, that the ostler had taken upon himself to give him his liberty, and this had no sooner been done than he ran directly towards the residence of the Princess. It has never been fully ascertained whether he did so in the hope of finding his master or merely for the sake of plunder: but chance would so have it that he got a sight of the same cat which he had previously pursued with so much eagerness; he renewed the chase forthwith; and a frightened female had but just time to receive grimalkin into her apron, and to retire with her charge into a room. This saved the cat; but it brought on the loss of semething infinitely more valuable, viz.—a trimming of lace, which the fille de chambre had been busy washing in milk in the anti-room, and which the voracious dog lapped up in no time. The Princess was highly incensed at this new and daring misdemeanour; and she had sent word to the magistrate, that she fully expected to be freed from such intrusions by the speedy removal of the animal.
The Burgomaster told his old acquaintance that the request was not only just in itself, but that, coming from such a quarter, it required immediate attention, and that it was absolutely necessary to take some steps to pacify her Highness. The student replied that the dog should not leave his side again, if he could get him within his call; and that he would remain answerable for any damage that might be done by him. The Justice, who had not yet recovered from his dread of being caricatured, was anxious to avoid falling out with the gentleman. He was just preparing a submissive reply to the request, in order to assuage the gathering storm, when a new blast made all his endeavours vain. The Recorder came bouncing into the room, and stated that the liver of the finest goose that had ever been hatched and reared in the town, from time immemorial, had just been fetched out of his own kitchen. It was to have been the chief ornament of a supper which he intended to give in honour of his lady’s birth-day: but, alas! the remorseless brute which had been introduced from foreign parts had seized and consumed it. He vowed vengeance on the perpetrator of the atrocious deed: and nothing would satisfy him but a formal declaration of outlawry, by which this enemy of public peace and comfort would be removed beyond the boundaries within twelve hours; and, after this period, it would be lawful in any individual to use such means, in just self-defence, as would lead to the ultimate destruction of the devourer.
The Recorder’s speech quite electrified the Council. The broken china, the torn cloths, the murdered rabbits, the swallowed lace, and all the various other encroachments upon domestic happiness, were so artfully brought forward in the discourse, that the Burgomaster was fairly outvoted: he entreated the student, with tears in his eyes, not to make him suffer for the obstinacy of his colleagues; and signed the verdict with a trembling hand.
Chapter 26th. Acme of misfortune.—Oppressed by the events of the day, Jeremiah looked out of his window, and the clouds of smoke which he blew forth from his mouth, seemed to indicate that something of vast importance was then passing through his head. Jupiter had but a short time to stop; his enemies were too numerous and powerful to leave any hope of alleviation of his fate; and the magistrates seemed to be in earnest, although they were not remarkable for energy on other occasions. The beadle was making his round with a drum, in order to proclaim, at every corner, the banishment which had been decreed against him. The assembled rabble received the news with shouts of approbation: but at that very moment the quadruped made an attack on a listening cake-merchant, and scattered the contents of his baskets on the ground. The proprietor cried “Murder!” and Schnackenberger lost patience himself. “Woe unto thee,” he exclaimed, throwing his pipe at the animal, and then he hastened down stairs. He rushed out of the house in a great passion; but dog and mob were gone: he found only his pipe under the window, his fine and valuable pipe, the pride of the University, and the object of general envy; which had been so long and so carefully wrapped up in silk handkerchiefs, that pipe he found smashed to atoms! oh cruel! cruel!
