Commander Snort of the Sneezer will in a brief forenoon emanc.i.p.ate not only Europe and America, but the dweller beyond Jordan and the inhabitant of the diggings by Bendigo. Lay Chiavari in ashes, and you will no longer need Inspector D, nor ask aid from the head-office. Here is what the age especially worships, a remedy combining cheapness with efficiency. It may be said that we have no more right to destroy Chiavari than Kagosima, but that question is at least debatable. Are not the headaches of tens of thousands of more avail than the head of one?

What becomes of that n.o.ble principle, the greatest happiness of the greatest number? The Italians, too, might object: true, but they are neither Americans nor French. They come into the category of states that may be bullied. The countries which have an extended seaboard and weak naval armaments are like people with a large gla.s.s frontage and no shutters. There is nothing to prevent us shying a stone at the Italian window as we pa.s.s up to Constantinople, even though we run away afterwards. I repeat, therefore, the plan is feasible. As to its cheapness, it would not cost a t.i.the of what we spent in destroying the tea-tray fortifications of Satsuma; and as we have a cla.s.sic turn for monuments, a pyramid of barrel-organs in Charing Cross might record to a late posterity the capture of Chiavari.

I am not without a certain sort of self-reproach in all this. I feel it is a weakness perhaps, but I feel that we are all of us too hard on these organ fellows--for, after all, are they not, in a certain sense, the type and embodiment of our age? Is not repet.i.tion, reiteration, our boldest characteristic? Is there, I ask, such a "Grind" in the world as Locke King, and his motion for Reform? What do you say to "Rest and be thankful," and, above all, what to the "Peace-at-any-price people"?

Is 'Cherry ripe' more wearisome than these? Would all Chiavari a.s.sembled on Wimbledon make up a drearier discord than a ministerial explanation?

In all your experience of bad music, do you know anything to equal a Foreign Office despatch? and we are without a remedy against these. Bring up John Bright to-morrow for incessantly annoying the neighbourhood of Birmingham, by insane accusations against his own country and laudations of America, and I doubt if you could find a magistrate on the bench to commit him; and will you tell me that the droning whine of 'Garibaldi's March' is worse than this? As to the _Civis Roma.n.u.s_ cant, it is too painful to dwell on, now that we are derided, ridiculed, and sneered at from Stockholm to Stamboul. Like Canning's philanthropist, we have been asking every one for his story; never was there a soul so full of sympathy for sorrow. We have heard the tale of Italy, the sufferings of the Confederates, the crying wrongs of Poland, and the still more cruel, because less provoked, trials of Denmark. We have thrown up hands and eyes--sighed, groaned, wept; we have even denounced the ill-doers, and said, What a terrible retribution awaited them! but, like our great prototype, when asked for a.s.sistance, we have said,

"I'll see you ------ first."

Let us be merciful, therefore, and think twice before we batter down Chiavari. The organ nuisance is a bore, no doubt; but what are the most droning ditties that ever addled a weary head, compared to the tiresome grind of British moral a.s.sistance, and the greatness of that _Civis Roma.n.u.s_ who hugs his own importance and helps n.o.body?

R. N. F. THE GREAT CHEVALIER D'INDUSTRIE OF OUR DAY.

I was struck the other day by an account of an application made to the Lord Mayor of London by a country clergyman, to give, as a warning to others, publicity to a letter he had just received from the East. The clergyman, it seems, had advertised in the 'Times' for pupils, and gave for address a certain letter of the Greek alphabet. To this address there came in due time an answer from a gentleman, dated Constantinople, stating that he was an Anglo-Indian on his way to England, to place his two sons in an educational establishment; but that having, by an excursion to Jerusalem, exhausted his immediate resources, he was obliged to defer the prosecution of his journey till the arrival of some funds he expected from India--certain to arrive in a month or two.

Not wishing, however, to delay the execution of his project, and being satisfied with the promises held forth by the advertiser, he purposed placing his sons under his care, and to do so, desired that forty pounds might be remitted him at once, to pay his journey to England, for which convenience he, the writer, would not alone be obliged, but also extend his patronage to the lender, by recommending him to his friend Sir Hugh Rose, who was himself desirous of sending his sons to be educated in England. The address of a banker was given to whom the money should be remitted, and an immediate reply requested, or "application should be made in some other quarter."

Now, the clergyman did not answer this strange appeal, but he inserted another advertis.e.m.e.nt, changing, however, the symbol by which he was to be addressed, and appearing in this way to be a different person. To this new address there came another letter, perfectly identical in style and matter: the only change was, that the writer was now at the Hotel de la Reine d'Angleterre at Buda; but all the former pledges of future protection were renewed, as well as the request for a prompt reply, or "application will be made in another quarter."

The clergyman very properly laid the matter before the Lord Mayor, who, with equal propriety, stamped the attempt as the device of a swindler, against which publicity in the newspapers was the best precaution. The strangest thing of all, however, was, that n.o.body appeared to know the offender; nor was there in the 'Times,' or in the other newspapers where the circ.u.mstances were detailed, one single surmise as to the ident.i.ty of this ingenious individual. It is the more singular, since this man is a specialty--an actual personification of some of the very subtlest rogueries of the age we live in!

If any of my readers can recall a very remarkable exposure the 'Times'

newspaper made some ten or twelve years ago, of a most shameful fraud practised upon governesses, by which they were induced to deposit a sum equivalent to their travelling expenses from England to some town on the Continent, as a guarantee to the employer, they will have discovered the gentleman with the two sons to be educated--the traveller in Syria, the friend of Sir Hugh Rose, the Anglo-Indian who expects eight hundred pounds in two months, but has a present and pressing necessity for forty.

The governess fraud was ingenious. It was done in this way: An advertis.e.m.e.nt appeared in the 'Times,' setting forth that an English gentleman, travelling with his family abroad, wanted a governess--the conditions liberal, the requirements of a high order. The family in question, who mixed with the very best society on the Continent, required that the governess should be a lady of accomplished manners, and one in every respect qualified for that world of fashion to which she would be introduced as a member of the advertiser's family. The advertiser, however, found that all the English ladies who had hitherto filled this situation in his family had, through the facilities thus presented them of entrance into life, made very advantageous marriages; and to protect himself against the loss entailed by the frequent call on him for travelling expenses--bringing out new candidates for the hands of princes and grand-dukes--he proposed that the accepted governess should deposit with him a sum--say fifty pounds--equivalent to the charge of the journey; and which, if she married, should be confiscated to the benefit of her employer.

The scheme was very ingenious; it was, in fact, a lottery in which you only paid for your ticket when you had drawn a prize. Till the lucky number turned up, you never parted with your money. Was there ever any such bribe held forth to a generation of unmarried and marriageable women? There was everything that could captivate the mind: the tour on the Continent--the family who loved society and shared it so generously--the father so parental in his kindness, and who evidently gave the governess the benediction of a parent on the day she may have married the count; and all secured for what--for fifty pounds? No; but for the deposit, the mere storing up of fifty pounds in a strong box; for if, after two years, the lady neither married nor wished to remain, she could claim her money and go her way.

The success was immense; and as the advertiser wrote replies from different towns to different individuals, governesses arrived at Brussels, at Coblentz, at Frankfort, at Mayence, at Munich, at Nice--and heaven knows where besides--whose deposits were lodged in the hands of N. F. That ingenious gentleman straightway departed, and was no more seen, and only heard of when the distress and misery of these unhappy ladies had found their way to the public press. The 'Times,' with all that ability and energy it knows how to employ, took the matter up, published some of the statements--very painful and pathetic they were--of the unfortunate victims of this fraud, and gave more than one "leader" to its exposure. Nor was the Government wanting in proper activity. Orders were sent out from the Foreign Office to the different legations and consulates abroad, to warn the police in the several districts against the machinations of this artful scoundrel, should he chance to be in their neighbourhood. Even more distinct instructions were sent out to certain legations, by which R. N. F. could be arrested on charges that would at least secure his detention till the law officers had declared what steps could be taken in his behalf. It was not the age of photography, but a very accurate description of the man's appearance and address was furnished, and his lofty stature, broad chest, burly look, and bushy whiskers--a shade between red and auburn--were all duly posted in each Chancellerie of the Continent.

For a while it seemed as if he lived in retirement--his late success enabled this to be an "elegant retirement"--and it is said that he pa.s.sed it on the Lake of Como, in a villa near that of the once Queen Caroline. There are traditions of a distinguished stranger--a man of rank and a man of letters--who lived there estranged from all the world, and deeply engaged in the education of his two sons. One of these youths, however, not responding to all this parental devotion, involved himself in some sc.r.a.pe, fled from his father's roof, and escaped into Switzerland. N. F., as soon as he could rally from the first shock of the news, hastened after, to bring him back, borrowing a carriage from a neighbouring n.o.bleman in his haste. With this he crossed the frontier at Chia.s.so, but never to come back again. The coachman, indeed, brought tidings of the sale of the equipage, which the ill.u.s.trious stranger had disposed of, thus quitting a neighbourhood he could only a.s.sociate with a sorrowful past, and a considerable number of debts into the bargain.

Another blank occurs here in history, which autobiography alone perhaps could fill. It would be unfair and un-philosophical to suppose that because we cannot trace him he was inactive: we might as reasonably imply that the moon ceased to move when we lost sight of her. At all events, towards the end of autumn of that last year of the war in the Crimea, a stout, well-dressed, portly man, with an air of considerable a.s.surance, swaggered into the Chancellerie of her Majesty's Legation at Munich, notwithstanding the representations of the porter, who would, if he had dared, have denied him admittance, and asked, in a voice of authority, if there were no letters there for Captain F. The gentleman to whom the question was addressed was an attache of the Legation, and at that time in "charge" of the mission, the Minister being absent.

Though young in years, F. could scarcely, in the length and breadth of Europe, have fallen upon one with a more thorough insight into every phase and form of those mysteries by which the F. category of men exist.

Mr L. was an actual amateur in this way, and was no more the man to be angry with F. for being a swindler, than with Ristori for being Medea or Macready being Macbeth. Not that he had the slightest suspicion at the time of F.'s quality, as he a.s.sured him that there were no letters for that name.

"How provoking!" said the Captain, as he bit his lip. "They will be so impatient in England," muttered he to himself, "and I know Sidney Herbert is sure to blame _me_." Then he added aloud, "I am at a dead-lock here. I have come from the Crimea with despatches, and expected to find money here to carry me on to England; and these stupid people at the War Office have forgotten all about it. Is it not enough to provoke a saint?"

"I don't know; I never was a saint," said the impa.s.sive attache.

"Well, it's trying to a sinner," said F., with a slight laugh; for he was one of those happy-natured dogs who are not indifferent to the absurd side of even their own mishaps. "How long does the post take to England?"

"Three days."

"And three back--that makes six; a week--an entire week."

"Omitting Sunday," said the grave attache, who really felt an interest in the other's dilemma.

"All I can say is, it was no fault of mine," cried F., after a moment.

"If I am detained here through their negligence, they must make the best excuse they can. Have you got a cigar?" This was said with his eyes fixed on a roll of Cubans on the table.

"Take one," said the other.

"Thanks," said F., as he selected three. "I'll drop in to-morrow, and hope to have better luck."

"How much money do you want?" asked Mr L.

"Enough to carry me to London."

"How much is that?"

"Let me see. Strasbourg--Paris, a day at Paris; Cowley might detain me two days: fifteen or twenty pounds would do it amply."

"You shall have it."

"All right," said F., who walked to the fire, and, lighting his cigar, smoked away; while the other took some notes from a table-drawer and counted them.

"Shall I give you a formal receipt for this?" asked F.

"You can tell them at the Office," said L., as he dipped his pen into the ink and continued the work he had been previously engaged in. F.

said a few civil words--the offhand grat.i.tude of a man who was fully as much in the habit of bestowing as of receiving favours, and withdrew. L.

scarcely noticed his departure; he was deep in his despatch, and wrote on. At length he came to the happy landing-place, that spot of rest for the weary foot--"I have the honour to be, my Lord," and he arose and stood at the fire.

As L. smoked his cigar he reflected, and as he reflected he remembered; and, to refresh his memory, he took out some papers from a pigeon-hole, and at last finding what he sought, sat down to read it. The doc.u.ment was a despatch, dated a couple of years back, instructing H.M.'s representative at the Court of Munich to secure the person of a certain N. F., and hold him in durance till application should be made to the Bavarian Government for his extradition and conveyance to England. Then followed a very accurate description of the individual--his height, age, general looks, voice, and manner--every detail of which L. now saw closely tallied with the appearance of his late visitor.

He pondered for a while over the paper, and then looked at his watch. It was five o'clock! The first train to Augsburg was to start at six. There was little time, consequently, to take the steps necessary to arrest a person on suspicion; for he should first of all have to communicate with the Minister for Foreign Affairs, who should afterwards back his application to the Prefect of Police. The case was one for detail, and for what the Germans insist upon, much writing--and there was very little time to do it in. L., however, was not one to be easily defeated.

If baffled in one road, he usually found out another. He therefore wrote a brief note to the Minister, stating that he might require his a.s.sistance at a later hour of the evening, and at a time not usually official. This done, he despatched another note to Captain E. F., saying familiarly it was scarcely worth while trying to catch the mail-train that night, and that perhaps instead he would come over and take a _tete-a-tete_ dinner with him at the Legation.

F. was overjoyed as he read it! No man ever felt a higher pleasure in good company, nor knew better how to make it profitable. If he had been asked to choose, he would infinitely rather have had the invitation to dine than the twenty pounds he had pocketed in the morning. The cognate men of the world--and all members of the diplomatic career are to a certain extent in this category--were in F.'s estimation the "trump cards" of the pack, with which he could "score tricks" innumerable, and so he accepted at once; and, in a very few minutes after his acceptance, made his appearance in a correct dinner-dress and a most unexceptionable white tie.

"Couldn't refuse that pleasant offer of yours, L." (he was familiar at once, and called him L.), "and here I am!" said he, as he threw himself into an easy-chair with all the bland satisfaction of one who looked forward to a good dinner and a very enjoyable evening.

"I am happy to have secured you," said L., with a little laugh to himself at the epigram of his phrase. "Do you like caviar?"

"Delight in it!"

"I have just got some fresh from St Petersburg, and our cook here is rather successful in his caviar soup. We have a red trout from the _Tegen See_, a saddle of Tyrol mutton, and a pheasant--_voila votre diner!_ but I can promise you a more liberal _carte_ in drinkables; just say what you like in the way of wine!"

F.'s face beamed over with ecstasy. It was one of the grand moments of his life; and if he could, hungry as he was, he would have prolonged it!

To be there the guest of her Majesty's mission; to know, to feel, that the arms of England were over the door! that he was to be waited on by flunkies in the livery of the Legation, fed by the cook who had ministered to official palates, his gla.s.s filled with wine from the cellar of him who represented royalty! These were very glorious imaginings; and little wonder that F., whose whole life was a Poem in its way, should feel that they almost overcame him. In fact, like the woman in the nursery song, he was ready to exclaim, "This is none of me!" but still there were abundant evidences around him that all was actual, positive, and real.

"By the way," said L., in a light, careless way, "did you ever in your wanderings chance upon a namesake of yours, only that he interpolates another Christian name, and calls himself R. Napoleon F.?"

The stranger started: the fresh, ruddy glow of his cheek gave way to a sickly yellow, and, rising from his chair, he said, "Do you mean to 'split' on me, sir?"

"I'm afraid, F.," said the other, jauntily, "the thing looks ugly. You are R. N. F.!"