# The London Magazine/1820–1829/Series 1/Volume 7/May/Mr. Schnackenberger; or, Two Masters for One Dog

Mr. Schnackenberger; or, Two Masters for One Dog Part One
Part Two→
First of a two part translation of "Zwei Herren für einen Hund" from Erzählungen und Schwänke volume 1 (1818).
Mr. Schnackenberger; OR, TWO MASTERS FOR ONE DOG.
FROM THE GERMAN.
CHAPTER I.
In what Manner Mr. Schnackenberger made his Entry into B——.
The sun had just set, and all the invalids at the baths of B—— had retired to their lodgings, when the harsh tones of welcome from the steeple announced the arrival of a new guest. Forthwith all the windows were garrisoned with young faces and old faces, pretty faces and ugly faces; and scarce one but was overspread with instantaneous merriment—a feu-de-joie of laughter, that traveled up the street in company with the very extraordinary object that now advanced from the city gates. Upon a little, meagre, scare-crow of a horse, sate a tall, broad-shouldered, young fellow, in a great-coat of bright pea-green, whose variegated lights and shades, from soaking rains and partial dryings, bore sullen testimony to the changeable state of the weather for the last week. Out of this great-coat shot up, to a monstrous height, a head surmounted by a huge cocked hat, one end of which hung over the stem, the other over the stern of the horse: the legs belonging to this head were sheathed in a pair of monstrous boots, technically called “field-pieces,” which, descending rather too low, were well plaistered with flesh-coloured mud. More, perhaps, in compliance with the established rule, than for any visible use, a switch was in the rider’s hand; for to attribute to such a horse, under such a load, any power to have quitted a pace that must have satisfied the most rigorous police in Poland, was obviously too romantic. Depending from his side, and almost touching the ground, rattled an enormous back-sword, which suggested to the thinking mind a salutary hint to allow free passage, without let or unseasonable jesting, to Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger, student at the University of X——. He, that might be disposed to overlook this hint, would certainly pay attention to a second, which crept close behind the other in the shape of a monstrous dog, somewhat bigger than the horse, and presenting on every side a double tier of most respectable teeth. Observing the general muster of the natives, which his appearance had called to the windows, the rider had unslung and mounted a pipe, under whose moving canopy of clouds and vapours he might advance in greater tranquillity: and during this operation, his very thoughtful and serious horse had struck up a bye-street—and made a dead stop, before his rider was aware, at the sign of the Golden Sow.
Although the gold had long since vanished from the stone beast, and, ​to say the truth, every part of the house seemed to sympathise admirably with the unclean habits of it’s patron image, nevertheless, Mr. Jeremiah thought proper to comply with the instincts of his horse; and, as nobody in the street, or in the yard, came forward to answer his call, he gave himself no further trouble, but rode on through the open door right forwards into the bar.
CHAPTER II.
How Mr. Jeremiah came to take up his Quarters at the Golden Sow.
“The Lord, and his angels, protect us!—As I live, here comes the late governor!” ejaculated the hostess, Mrs. Bridget Sweetbread; suddenly startled out of her afternoon’s nap by the horse’s hoofs—and seeing right before her what she took for the apparition of Don Juan; whom, as it afterwards appeared, she had seen in a pantomime the night before.
“Thunder and lightning! my good woman,” said the student laughing, “would you dispute the reality of my flesh and blood?”
Mrs. Bridget, however, on perceiving her mistake, cared neither for the sword nor for the dog, but exclaimed, “Why then, let me tell you, Sir, it’s not the custom in this country to ride into parlours, and disturb honest folks when they’re taking their rest. Innkeeping’s not the trade it has been to me, God he knows: but, for all that, I’ll not put up with such work from nobody.”
“Good, my dear creature; what you say is good—very good: but let me tell you, it’s not good that I must be kept waiting in the street, and no soul in attendance to take my horse and feed him.”
“Oh that base villain of a hostler!” said the landlady, immediately begging pardon, and taking hold of the bridle, whilst Mr. Schnackenberger dismounted.
“That’s a good creature,” said he; “I love you for this: and I don’t care if I take up my quarters here, which at first was not my intention. Have you room for me?”
“Room!” answered Mrs. Sweetbread; “Ah! now there’s just the whole Golden Sow at your service; the more’s the pity.”
On Mr. Jeremiah’s asking the reason for this superfluity of room, she poured out a torrent of abuse against the landlord of The Double-barreled Gun, who—not content with having at all times done justice to his sign—had latterly succeeded, with the help of vicious coachmen and unprincipled postillions, in drawing away her whole business, and had at length utterly ruined the once famous inn of The Golden Sow. And true it was that the apartment, into which she now introduced her guest, showed some vestiges of ancient splendour, in the pictures of six gigantic sows. The late landlord had been a butcher, and had christened his inn from his practice of slaughtering a pig every week; and the six swine, as large as life, and each bearing a separate name, were designed to record his eminent skill in the art of fattening.
His widow, who was still in mourning for him, must certainly have understood Mr. Schnackenberger’s words, “I love you for this,” in a sense very little intended by the student. For she brought up supper herself; and, with her own hand, unarmed with spoon or other implement, dived after and secured a little insect which was floundering about in the soup. So much the greater was her surprise on observing, that, after such flattering proofs of attention, her guest left the soup untouched; and made no particular application to the other dishes—so well harmonising with the general character of the Golden Sow. At last, however, she explained his want of appetite into the excess of his passion for herself; and, on that consideration, failed not to lay before him a statement of her flourishing circumstances, and placed in a proper light the benefits of a marriage with a woman somewhat older than himself.
Mr. Schnackenberger, whose good-nature was infinite, occasionally interrupted his own conversation with Juno, the great dog, who meantime was dispatching the supper without any of her master’s scruples, to throw in a “Yes,” or a “No,”—a “Well,” or a “So, so.” But at length his patience gave way, and he started up—saying, “Well: Sufficit: Now—​march, old witch!” This harmless expression she took in such ill part, that, for mere peace’ sake, he was obliged to lead her to the door and shut her out: and then, undressing himself, he stept into bed; and, in defiance of the straw which every-where stuck out, and a quilt of a hundred weight, he sunk into a deep slumber under the agreeable serenade of those clamorous outcries which Mrs. Sweetbread still kept up on the outside of the door.
CHAPTER III.
In which our Hero polishes a Rough-rider.
“Fire and furies!” exclaimed Mr. Schnackenberger, as Juno broke out into uproarious barking about midnight: the door was opened from the outside; and in stepped the landlady, arrayed in a night-dress that improved her charms into a rivalry with those of her sign at the street-door; accompanied by a fellow, who, by way of salutation, cracked an immense hunting-whip.
“So it’s here that I’m to get my own again?” cried the fellow: and forthwith Mr. Jeremiah stepped out of bed, and hauled him up to the light of the lamp which the landlady carried.
“Yes, Sir,” said the rough-rider, “it’s I, sure enough;” and, to judge by the countenance of his female conductor, every accent of his anger was music of the spheres to her unquenchable wrath: “I’m the man, sure enough, whose horse you rode away with; and that you’ll find to be a true bill.”
“Rode away with!” cried Mr. Jeremiah: “Now, may the sweetest of all thunderbolts” ——— “but, rascal, this instant what’s to pay? then take thy carrion out of the stable, and be off.” So saying, Mr. Schnackenberger strode to the bed for his well-filled purse.
On these signs of solvency, however, the horse-dealer turned up the gentler phasis of his character, and said, “Nay, nay; since things are so, why it’s all right; and, in the Lord’s name, keep the horse as long as you want him.”
“Dog! in the first place, and firstly, tell me what’s your demand? in the second place, and secondly, go to the d---l.”
But whilst the rough-rider continued with low bows to decline the first offer, being satisfied, as it seemed, with the second, the choleric Mr. Schnackenberger cried out, “Seize him, Juno!” And straightway Juno leaped upon him, and executed the arrest so punctually—that the trembling equestrian, without further regard to ceremony, made out his charge.
Forthwith Mr. Jeremiah paid down the demand upon the table, throwing in something extra, with the words, “That for the fright.” The dealer in horse-flesh returned him a thousand thanks; hoped for his honour’s further patronage; and then, upon being civilly assured by Mr. Jeremiah, that if he did not in one instant walk down the stairs, he would, to his certain knowledge, have to fly down them; the rough-rider, in company with the landlady, took a rapid and polite leave of Mr. Schnackenberger; who was too much irritated by the affront to compose himself again to sleep.
CHAPTER IV.
How Mr. Schnackenberger and Juno conduct themselves when the House becomes too hot to hold them.
Day was beginning to dawn, when a smoke, which forced its way through the door, and which grew every instant thicker and more oppressive, a second time summoned Mr. Schnackenberger from his bed. As he threw open the door, such a volume of flames rolled in from the staircase which was already on fire from top to bottom—that he saw there was no time to be lost: so he took his pipe, loaded it as quickly as possible, lighted it from the flames of the staircase, began smoking, and then, drawing on his pea-green coat and buckling on his sword, he put his ​head out of the window to see if there were any means of escape. To leap right down upon the pavement seemed too hazardous; and the most judicious course, it struck him, would be to let himself down upon the Golden Sow, which was at no great depth below his window, and from this station to give the alarm. Even this, however, could not be reached without a leap: Mr. Schnackenberger attempted it; and, by means of his great talents for equilibristic exercises, he hit the mark so well, that he planted himself in the very saddle, as it were, upon the back of this respectable brute. Unluckily, however, there was no house opposite; and Mrs. Sweetbread with her people slept at the back. Hence it was, that for a very considerable space of time he was obliged to continue riding the sign of the Golden Sow; whilst Juno, for whom he could not possibly make room behind him, looked out of the window, and accompanied her master’s text of occasional clamours for assistance, with a very appropriate commentary of howls.
Some Poles at length passed by: but, not understanding one word of German—and seeing a man thus betimes in the morning mounted on the golden sow, smoking very leisurely, and occasionally hallooing, as if for his private amusement, they naturally took Mr. Schnackenberger for a maniac: until, at length, the universal language of fire, which now began to burst out of the window, threw some light upon the darkness of their Polish understandings. Immediately they ran for assistance, which about the same moment the alarm-bells began to summon.
However, the fire-engines arrived on the ground before the ladders: these last were the particular objects of Mr. Jeremiah’s wishes: meantime, in default of those, and as the second best thing that could happen, the engines played with such a well-directed stream of water upon the window—upon the Golden Sow—and upon Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger, that for one while they were severally rendered tolerably fire-proof. When at length the ladders arrived, and the people were on the point of applying them to the Golden Sow, he earnestly begged that they would, first of all, attend to a case of more urgent necessity: for himself, he was well mounted—as they saw; could assure them that he was by no means in a combustible state; and, if they would be so good as to be a little more parsimonious with their water, he didn’t care if he continued to pursue his morning’s ride a little longer. On the other hand, Juno at the window to the right was reduced every moment to greater extremities, as was pretty plainly indicated by the increasing violence of her howling.
But the people took it ill that they should be desired to rescue a four-legged animal; and peremptorily refused.
“My good lads,” said the man upon the sow, “for heaven’s sake don’t delay any longer: one heaven, as Pfeffel observes, is over all good creatures that are pilgrims on this earth—let their travelling coat (which by the way is none of their own choosing) be what it may;—smooth like yours and mine, or shaggy like Juno’s.”
But all to no purpose: not Pfeffel himself in propriâ personâ could have converted them from the belief that to take any trouble about such a brute was derogatory to the honour of the very respectable citizens of B———.
However, when Mr. Jeremiah drew his purse-strings, and offered a golden ducat to him that would render this service to his dog, instantly so many were the competitors for the honour of delivering the excellent pilgrim in the shaggy coat, that none of them would resign a ladder to any of the rest: and thus, in this too violent zeal for her safety, possibly Juno would have perished—but for a huge Brunswick sausage, which, happening to go past in the mouth of a spaniel, violently irritated the appetite of Juno, and gave her courage for the salto mortale down to the pavement.
“God bless my soul,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, to the men who stood mourning over the golden soap-bubble that had just burst before their eyes, “what’s to be done now?” and, without delay, he offered the ducat to him that would instantly give chase to Juno, who had ​already given chase to the sausage round the street corner, and would restore her to him upon the spot. And such was the agitation of Mr. Schnackenberger’s mind, that for a few moments he seemed as if rising in his stirrups—and on the point of clapping spurs to the Golden Sow for the purpose of joining in the chase.
CHAPTER V.
From which may be descried the object of Mr. Schnackenberger’s Journey to B——, and a Prospect of an Introduction to High Life.
Mr. Schnackenberger’s consternation was, in fact, not without very rational grounds. The case was this. Juno was an English bitch—infamous for her voracious appetite in all the villages, far and wide, about the university—and, indeed, in all respects, without a peer throughout the whole country. Of course, Mr. Schnackenberger was much envied on her account by a multitude of fellow students; and very large offers were made him for the dog. To all such overtures, however, the young man had turned a deaf ear for a long time, and even under the heaviest pecuniary distresses; though he could not but acknowledge to himself that Juno brought him nothing but trouble and vexation. For not only did this brute (generally called the monster) make a practice of visiting other people’s kitchens, and appropriating all unguarded dainties—but she went even to the length of disputing the title to their own property with he-cooks and she-cooks, butchers, and butchers’ wives, &c.; and whosoever had once made acquaintance with the fore-paws of this ravenous lady, allowed her thenceforwards, without resistance, to carry off all sausages or hams which she might choose to sequestrate, and directly presented a bill to her master; in which bill it commonly happened that indemnification for the fright, if not expressly charged as one of the items, had a blank space, however, left for its consideration beneath the sum total. At length, matters came to that pass, that the reimbursement of Juno’s annual outrages amounted to a far larger sum than Mr. Schnackenberger’s own—not very frugal expenditure. On a day, therefore, when Juno had made an entire clearance of the larder appropriated to a whole establishment of day-labourers—and Mr. Schnackenberger had, in consequence, been brought into great trouble in the university courts, in his first moments of irritation he asked his friend Mr. Fabian Sebastian, who had previously made him a large offer for the dog, whether he were still disposed to take her on those terms. “Undoubtedly,” said Mr. Sebastian—promising, at the same time, to lay down the purchase money on that day se’nnight, upon delivery of the article.
Delivery of the article would, no question, have been made upon the spot, had not the vender repented of his bargain the next moment after it was concluded: on that account he still kept the dog in his own possession, and endeavoured, during the week’s respite, to dispose his friend’s mind to the canceling of the contract. He, however, insisted on the punctual fulfilment of the treaty—letter and spirit. Never had Mr. Schnackenberger been so much disturbed in mind as at this period. Simply with the view of chasing away the nervous horrors which possessed his spirits, he had mounted his scare-crow and ridden abroad into the country. A remittance, which he had lately received from home, was still in his purse; and, said he to himself, suppose I were just to ride off to the baths at B— about fifteen miles distant! Nobody would know me there; and I might at any rate keep Juno a fortnight longer! And exactly in this way it had happened that Mr. Schnackenberger had come to B——.
At this instant, he was indebted to a lucky accident for a momentary diversion of his thoughts from the danger which threatened him in regard to Juno. Amongst other visitors to the baths, who were passing by at this early hour, happened to be the Princess of * *. Her carriage drew up at the very moment when Mr. Jeremiah, having dismounted from the sow, was descending the ladder: with her usual gracious manner, she congratulated ​the student upon his happy deliverance; and, finding that he was a countryman of her own, she invited him to a ball which she gave on the evening of that day, in honour of the King’s birth-day.
Now it must be acknowledged that a ball-room was not exactly the stage on which Mr. Schnackenberger’s habits of life had qualified him for shining: however, the pleasure of a nearer acquaintance with the interesting princess---held out too flattering a prospect to allow of his declining her invitation. Just at this moment Juno returned.
Meantime the fire (occasioned probably by a spark falling from the landlady’s lamp amongst the straw under the staircase) had been extinguished: and Mrs. Sweetbread, who had at length been roused at the back, now made her appearance; and with many expressions of regret for what had happened to Mr. Schnackenberger, who had entirely re-established himself in her esteem by his gold-laden purse, and also by what she called his “very handsome behaviour” to the horse-dealer, she requested that he would be pleased to step into one of her back rooms; at the same time, offering to reinstate his clothes in wearable condition by drying them as rapidly as possible: a necessity which was too clamorously urgent for immediate attention—to allow of the dripping student’s rejecting her offer.
CHAPTER VI.
In what manner Mr. Jeremiah prepared himself for the Ball.
As Mr. Jeremiah stood looking out of the window for the purpose of whiling away a tedious forenoon, it first struck his mind—upon the sight of a number of men dressed very differently from himself—that his wardrobe would scarcely match with the festal splendour of the fête at which he was to be present in the evening. Even if it had been possible to overlook the tarnished lustre of his coat, not much embellished by its late watery trials upon the golden sow, yet he could not possibly make his appearance in a surtout. He sent therefore to one tailor after another: but all assured him that they had their hands much too full of business to undertake the conversion of his surtout into a dress coat against the evening; still less could they undertake to make a new one. Just as vainly did he look about for shoes: many were on sale; but none of them with premises spacious enough to accommodate his very respectable feet.
All this put him into no little perplexity. True it was, that Mrs. Sweetbread had spontaneously thrown open to his inspection the wardrobe of her deceased husband. But even he had contrived to go through this world in shoes of considerably smaller dimensions than Mr. Jeremiah demanded. And from a pretty large choice of coats there was not one which he could turn to account. For, to say nothing of their being one and all too short by a good half ell, even in the very best of them he looked precisely as that man looks who has lately slaughtered a hog, or as that man looks who designs to slaughter a hog.
Now, then, when all his plans for meeting the exigencies of his case had turned out abortive, suddenly a bold idea struck him. In a sort of inspiration he seized a pair of scissors, for the purpose of converting with his own untutored hand of genius his pea-green surtout into a pea-green frock. This operation having, in his own judgment, succeeded to a marvel, he no longer hesitated to cut out a pair of ball shoes from his neat’s-leather “field-pieces.” Whatever equipments were still wanting could be had for money, with the exception of a shirt; and, as to that, the wedding shirt of the late Mr. Sweetbread would answer the purpose very passably.
What provoked our hero most of all were the new patent shoe-buckles, the fine points of which would not take firm hold of the coarse leather shoes, but on every bold step burst asunder—so that he was obliged to keep his eye warily upon them, and in consideration of their tender condition, to set his feet down to the ground very gently.
The hostess had just sunk pretty deep into her customary failing of intoxication, when he went to her and asked how he looked in his gala ​dress. “Look!” said she; “why, like a king baked in gingerbread. Ah! now, such a man as you is the man for my money:—stout, and resolute, and active, and a man that——”
“Basta! sufficit, my dear.”
“To be sure, for his professional merit, I must’nt say any thing against the late Mr. Sweetbread: No, nobody must say any thing against that: he was the man for slaughtering of swine; Oh! he slaughtered them, that it was beautiful to see! pigs in particular, and pigs in general, were what he understood. Ah! lord! to my dying day I shall never forget the great sow that he presented to our gracious princess when she was at the baths, two years come Michaelmas. Says her Highness to him,” says she,—‘Master,’ says she, ‘one may see by your look that you understand how to fatten: any body,’ says she, ‘may see it in his face: a child may see it by the very look on him.’ ‘Ah!’ says her Highness, ‘he’s the man for swine: he was born to converse with hogs: he’s a heaven-born curer of bacon.’—Lord! Mr. Schnackenberger, you’ll not believe how these gracious words revived my very heart! The tears came into my eyes, and I couldn’t speak for joy. But, when all’s said and done, what’s fame? what’s glory? say I. A man like you is the man for me: but for such another lazy old night-cap as the late Mr. Sweetbread——”
“Bah! sufficit, sweetheart;” at the same time squeezing her hand, which she took as an intimation that she ought not to trouble herself with the past, but rather look forward to a joyous futurity.
As the hour drew near for presenting himself in the circle of the princess, Mr. Jeremiah recommended to her the most vigilant care of Juno, from whom he very unwillingly separated himself in these last days of their connexion—and not until he had satisfied himself that it was absolutely impossible to take her with him to the ball. Another favourite, namely, his pipe, ought also, he feared, in strict propriety to be left behind. But in the first place, “who knows,” thought he, “but there may be one room reserved for such ladies and gentlemen as choose to smoke?” And, secondly, let that be as it might, he considered that the great meerschaum head of his pipe—over which he watched as over the apple of his eye—could no where be so safely preserved as in his own pocket: as to any protuberance that it might occasion, that he valued not at a rush. Just as little did he care for the grotesque appearance of the mouth-piece, which in true journeyman’s fashion stuck out from the opening of his capacious pocket to a considerable distance.
“And now don’t you go and forget some people in the midst of all this show of powdered puppies,” cried the landlady after him.
“Ah! my darling!” said he, laughing, “just mind Juno: have an eye to Juno, my darling;” and for Juno’s sake he suppressed the “old witch,” that his lips were itching a second time to be delivered of.
CHAPTER VII.
Mr. Schnackenberger is enamoured, and of whom; and what Prospects open upon him in his Pursuit of “La Belle Passion.”
At the hotel of the princess, all the resources of good taste and hospitality were called forth to give éclat to the fête, and do honour to the day; and by ten o’clock, a very numerous and brilliant company had already assembled.
So much the more astounding must have been the entry of Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger; who, by the way, was already familiar to the eyes of many, from his very public entrance into the city on the preceding evening, and to others from his morning’s exhibition on the golden sow. His eyes and his thoughts being occupied by the single image of the fascinating hostess, of course ​it no more occurred to him to remark that his self-constructed coat was detaching itself at every step from its linings, whilst the pockets of the ci-devant surtout still displayed their original enormity of outline—than in general it would ever have occurred to him that the tout ensemble of his costume was likely to make, and had, in fact, made a very great sensation.
This very general attention to Mr. Schnackenberger, and the total unconsciousness of this honour on the part of Mr. Schnackenberger himself, did not escape the notice of the princess; and, at the first opportunity, she dispatched a gentleman to draw his attention to the indecorum of his dress—and to put him in the way of making the proper alterations. Laughter and vexation struggled in Mr. Schnackenberger’s mind, when he became aware of the condition of his equipments: and he very gladly accompanied the ambassador of his hostess into a private room, where clothes and shoes were furnished him, in which he looked like any other reasonable man. On his return to the ball-room, he lost no time in making his acknowledgments to the princess, and explaining the cause of his unbecoming attire. The princess, with a natural goodness of heart and true hospitality, was anxious to do what she could to restore her strange guest to satisfaction with himself, and to establish him in some credit with the company: she had besides discovered with pleasure that amidst all his absurdities, Mr. Schnackenberger was really a man of some ability: on these several considerations, therefore, she exerted herself to maintain a pretty long conversation with him; which honour Mr. Jeremiah so far misinterpreted, as to ascribe it to an interest of a very tender character. To Mr. Schnackenberger, who had taken up the very extraordinary conceit that his large person had some attractions about it, there could naturally be nothing very surprising in all this: and he felt himself called upon not to be wanting to himself, but to push his good fortune. Accordingly, he kept constantly about the person of the princess: let her move in what direction she would, there was Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger at hand ready to bewitch her with his conversation; and, having discovered that she was an amateur of botany, and purposed visiting a botanical garden on the following day, he besieged her with offers of his services in the capacity of guide.
“Possibly, when the time comes,” said the princess, aloud, “I shall avail myself of your goodness;” and the visible displeasure, with which she withdrew herself from his worrying importunities, so obviously disposed all the by-standers to smile—that Mr. Schnackenberger himself became alive to his own bétise, and a blush of shame and vexation suffused his countenance. What served at the moment greatly to exasperate these feelings, was the behaviour of a certain Mr. Von Pilsen—who had from the first paid uncommon attention to the very extraordinary phenomenon presented by Mr. Schnackenberger’s person—had watched the whole course of the persecutions with which he had distressed the princess—and at this moment seemed quite unable to set any bounds to his laughter. In extreme dudgeon, Mr. Schnackenberger hastened into one of the most remote apartments, and flung himself back upon a sofa. Covering his eyes with his hands, he saw none of the numbers who passed by him. But the first time that he looked up, behold! a paper was lying upon his breast. He examined it attentively; and found the following words written in pencil, to all appearance by a female hand: “We are too narrowly watched in this place. To-morrow morning about nine o’clock! The beautiful botanic gardens will secure us a fortunate rendezvous.”
“Aye,” said Mr. Jeremiah, “sure enough it’s from her!” He read the note again and again: and the more unhappy he had just now been, so much the more was he now intoxicated with his dawning felicities.
CHAPTER VIII.
In which Juno plays a principal Part.
The rattling of a chain through crashing glass and porcelain, which spread alarm through the ball-room, would hardly have drawn Mr. ​Schnackenberger’s attention in his present condition of rapturous elevation, had not the well-known voice of Juno reached his ears at the same moment. He hurried after the sound—shocked, and to be shocked. The fact was simply this: Juno had very early in the evening withdrawn herself from the surveillance of the Golden Sow, and had followed her master’s steps. Often ejected from the mansion of the princess, she had as often returned; so that at last it was thought best to chain her up in the garden. Unfortunately, a kitten belonging to a young female attendant of the princess had suddenly run past; Juno made a rush after it; the chain broke away from the wood-work of the kennel; the panic-struck kitten retreated into the house—taking the first road which presented: close upon the rear of the kitten pressed Juno and her chain; close upon the rear of Juno pressed the young woman in anguish for her kitten’s life, and armed with a fly-flapper; and, the road happening to lead into the ball-room, the whole train—pursuers and pursued—helter skelter fell into the quarters of the waltzers. The kitten attempted to take up a position behind a plateau on one of the side-boards: but from this she was immediately dislodged by Juno; and the retreat commencing afresh right across the side-boards which were loaded with refreshments, all went to wreck—glasses and china, all was afloat—sherbet and lemonade, raspberry-vinegar and orgeat: and at the very moment when Mr. Jeremiah returned, the belligerent powers dripping with celestial nectar—having just charged up a column of dancers—were wheeling through the door by which he had entered: and the first check to the wrath of Juno was the seasonable arrest of her master’s voice.
That the displeasure of the dancers, who had been discomposed and besprinkled by Juno, fell entirely upon her master, was pretty evident from their faces. Of all the parties concerned, however, none was more irritated than the young woman; she was standing upon the stairs, caressing and fondling her kitten, as Mr. Schnackenberger went down, leading Juno in his pocket handkerchief; and she let drop some such very audible hints upon the ill-breeding and boorishness of certain pretended gentlemen, that Mr. Schnackenberger would, without doubt, have given her a very severe reprimand—if he had not thought it more dignified to affect to overlook her.
CHAPTER IX.
Which treats of Experiments not very common at Birth-day Fêtes.
“Now, my dears,” said Mr. Von Pilsen to a party who were helping him to laugh at the departed Mr. Schnackenberger, “as soon as the fellow returns, we must get him into our party at supper.”
“Returns?” exclaimed another; “why I should fancy he had had enough of birth-day fêtes for one life.”
“You think so?” said Von Pilsen: “So do not I. No, no, my good creature; I flatter myself that I go upon pretty sure grounds: I saw those eyes which he turned upon the princess on making his exit: and mind what I say, he takes his beast home, and——comes back again. Therefore, be sure, and get him amongst us at supper, and set the barrel abroach. I wouldn’t for all the world the monster should go away untapped.”
The words were scarce uttered, when, sure enough, the body, or “barrel,” of Mr. Schnackenberger did roll into the room for a second time. Forthwith Von Pilsen and his party made up to him; and Pilsen having first with much art laboured to efface any suspicions which might have possessed the student’s mind in consequence of his former laughter, proceeded to thank him for the very extraordinary sport which his dog had furnished; and protested that he must be better acquainted with him.
“Why, as to that,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, “a better acquaintance must naturally be very agreeable to me. But, in respect to the dog, and what you call the sport, I’m quite of another opinion; and would give all I’m worth that it had not happened.”
​“Oh! no,” they all declared; “the fête would have wanted its most brilliant features if Mr. Schnackenberger or his dog had been absent. No, no: without flattery he must allow them to call him the richest fund of amusement—the brightest attraction of the evening.” But Schnackenberger shook his head incredulously; said he wished he could think so: but with a deep sigh he persisted in his own opinion; in which he was the more confirmed, when he perceived that the princess, who was now passing him to the supper-room, turned away her eyes the moment she perceived him.
In this state of mind Mr. Jeremiah naturally, but unconsciously, lent himself to the designs of his new acquaintances. Every glass that the devil of mischief and of merry malice poured out, did the devil of Schnackenberger’s despair drink off; until at last the latter devil was tolerably well drowned in wine.
About this time enter Juno again—being her second (and positively last) appearance upon these boards. Mr. Jeremiah’s new friends paid so much homage to the promising appearance of her jaws, that they made room for her very respectfully as she pressed up to her master. He, whose recent excesses in wine had re-established Juno in the plenitude of her favour, saw with approving calmness his female friend lay both her fore-paws on the table—and appropriate all that remained on his plate, to the extreme astonishment of all present.
“My friend,” said Mr. Jeremiah, to a footman who was on the point of pulling away the unbidden guest, “don’t you, for God’s sake, get into any trouble. My Juno understands no jesting on these occasions: and it might so happen that she would leave a mark of her remembrance with you, that you would not forget so long as you lived.”
“But I suppose, Sir, you won’t expect that a dog can be allowed to sup with her Highness’s company?”
“Oh! faith, Sir, credit me—the dog is a more respectable member of society than yourself, and many a one here present: so just leave me and my Juno unmolested. Else I may, perhaps, take the trouble to make an example of you.”
The princess, whose attention was now drawn, made a sign to the servant to retire; and Von Pilsen and his friends could scarcely keep down their laughter to a well-bred key, when Mr. Schnackenberger drew his pipe from his pocket—loaded it—lit it at one of the chandeliers over the supper-table—and, in one minute, wrapt the whole neighbourhood in a voluminous cloud of smoke.
As some little damper to their merriment, however, Mr. Schnackenberger addressed a few words to them from time to time:—“You laugh, gentlemen,” said he; “and, doubtless, there’s something or other very amusing,—no doubt, infinitely amusing, if one could but find it out. However, I could make your appetites for laughing vanish—aye, vanish in one moment. For, understand me now, one word—one little word from me to Juno, and, in two minutes, the whole room shall be as empty as if it had been swept out with a broom. Just the first that I look at, no matter whom, she catches by the breast—aye, just you, Sir, or you Sir, or you Mr. Von Pilsen,” (fixing his eye upon him) “if I do but say—seize him, Juno!” The word had fled: and in the twinkling of an eye, Juno’s fore-paws, not over clean, were fixed in the elegant white silk waistcoat of Mr. Von Pilsen.
This scene was the signal for universal uproar and alarm. Even Mr. Jeremiah, on remarking the general rising of the company, though totally unaware that his harmless sport had occasioned it, rose also; called the dog off: and comforted Von Pilsen, who was half dead with fright, by assuring him that had he but said—“Bite him, Juno!”—matters would have ended far worse.
On Mr. Schnackenberger’s standing up, his bodily equilibrium was manifestly so much endangered, that one of the company, out of mere humanity, offered his servant to see him safe home. A slight consciousness of his own condition induced our hero to accept of this offer: through some misunderstanding, however, the servant led him, not to the Golden Sow, but to the Double-barreled Gun.
Mr. Schnackenberger, on being asked for his number, said “No. 5;” that being the number of his room ​at the Golden Sow. He was accordingly shown up to No. 5: and, finding a bed under an alcove, he got into it dressed as he was; and, in one moment, had sunk into a profound slumber.
CHAPTER X.
Which narrates an Engagement on unequal Terms—first for one side, then for the other.
Half an hour after came the true claimant; who, being also drunk, went right up stairs without troubling the waiter: and forthwith getting into bed, laid himself right upon Mr. Jeremiah Schnackenberger.
“D——n this heavy quilt,” said the student, waking up and recollecting the hundred-pounder of the preceding night; and, without further ceremony, he kicked the supposed quilt into the middle of the room.
Now began war: for the “quilt” rose up without delay; and Mr. Schnackenberger, who had been somewhat worse handled than his opponent by the devil of drunkenness, would doubtless have come by the worst, had he not in his extremity ejaculated “Juno!” whereupon she, putting aside all selfish considerations, which at the moment had fastened her to a leg of venison in the kitchen, rushed up on the summons of duty, and carried a reinforcement that speedily turned the scale of victory. The alarm, which this hubbub created, soon brought to the field of battle the whole population of the inn, in a very picturesque variety of night-dresses; and the intruding guest would in all likelihood have been kicked back to the Golden Sow; but that the word of command to the irritated Juno, which obviously trembled on his lips, was deemed worthy of very particular attention and respect.
CHAPTER XI.
In which unfortunate Love meditates Revenge.
At half-past ten on the following morning, at which time Mr. Schnackenberger first unclosed his eyes, behold! at the foot of his bed was sitting my hostess of the Golden Sow. “Aye,” said she, “I think it’s time, Sir: and it’s time, I think, to let you know what it is to affront a creditable body before all the world.”
“Nay, for God’s sake, old one, what’s the matter?” said Mr. Schnackenberger, laughing and sitting bolt upright in bed.
“Old? Well, if I have a few more years on my head, I’ve a little more thought in it; but, perhaps, you’re not altogether so thoughtless as I’ve been fancying in your actings towards me poor unfortunate widow: if that’s the case, you are a base wicked man; and you deserve—
“Why, woman, how now? Has a tarantula bit you; or what is it? Speak.
“Speak! Aye, I’ll speak; and all the world shall hear me. First of all come you riding into my bar like a crazy man: and I, good easy creature, let myself be wheedled, carry you meat—drink—every thing—with my own hands; sit by your side; keep you in talk the whole evening, for fear you should be tired; and what was my reward? ‘March,’ says you, ‘old witch.’ Well, that passed on. At midnight I am called out of my bed—for your sake: and the end of that job is, that along of you the Sow is half burned down. But for all that, I say never an ill word to you. I open the late Mr. Sweetbread’s clothes’-presses to you: his poor innocent wedding-shirt you don over your great shameless body; go off; leave me behind with a masterful dog, that takes a roast leg of mutton from off the spit; and, when he should have been beat for it, runs off with it into the street. You come back with the beast. Not to offend you, I say never a word of what he has done. Off you go again: well: scarce is your back turned, when the filthy carrion begins running my rabbits up and down the yard; eats up all that he can catch; and never a one would have been left to tell the tale, if the great giantical hostler (him as blacked your shoes) hadn’t ha’ cudgeled him off. And after all this, there are you hopping away at ​the ball wi’ some painted doll—looking babies in her eyes—quite forgetting me that has to sit up for you at home pining and grieving: and all isn’t enough, but at last you must trot off to another inn.
“What then,” said Mr. Schnackenberger, “is it fact that I’m not at the Golden Sow?”
“Charming!” said Mrs. Sweetbread; “and so you would make believe you don’t know it; but I shall match you, or find them as will: rest you sure of that.”
“Children!” said Mr. Schnackenberger to the waiter and boots, who were listening in astonishment with the door half-open; “of all loves, rid me of this monster.”
“Aye, what!” said she in a voice of wrath; and put herself on the defensive. But a word or two of abuse against the landlord of the Double-barreled Gun, which escaped her in her heat, irritated the men to that degree, that in a few moments afterwards Mrs. Sweetbread was venting her wrath in the street—to the wonder of all passers-by, who looked after her until she vanished into the house of a well-known attorney.
Meantime, Mr. Schnackenberger, having on inquiry learned from the waiter in what manner he had come to the inn—and the night-scene which had followed, was apologizing to the owner of No. 5,—when to his great alarm the church clock struck eleven. “Nine,” he remembered, was the hour fixed by the billet: and the more offence he might have given to the princess by his absurdities over-night, of which he had some obscure recollection, so much the more necessary was it that he should keep the appointment. The botanic garden was two miles off: so, shutting up Juno, he ordered a horse; and in default of boots, which, alas! existed no longer in that shape, he mounted in silk stockings and pumps; and rode off at a hand gallop.
CHAPTER XII.
Mr. Schnackenberger’s Engagement with an Old Butterwoman.
The student was a good way advanced on his road, when he descried the princess, attended by another lady and a gentleman approaching in an open carriage. As soon, however, as he was near enough to be recognized by the party in the carriage, the princess turned away her head with manifest signs of displeasure—purely, as it appeared, to avoid noticing Mr. Jeremiah. Scarcely, however, was the carriage past him, together with Mr. Von Pilsen, who galloped by him in a tumult of laughter, when the ill-fate of our hero so ordered it, that all eyes which would not notice him for his honour should be reverted upon his disgrace. The white turnpike gate so frightened our rider’s horse, that he positively refused to pass it: neither whip nor spur would bring him to reason. Meantime, up comes an old butterwoman. At the very moment when she was passing, the horse in his panic steps back and deposits one of his hind legs in the basket of the butterwoman: down comes the basket with all its eggs, rotten and sound; and down comes the old woman, squash, into the midst of them. “Murder! Murder!” shouted the butterwoman; and forthwith every individual thing that could command a pair or two pair of legs ran out of the turnpike-house; the carriage of the princess drew up, to give the ladies a distant view of Mr. Schnackenberger engaged with the butterwoman; and Mr. Von Pilsen wheeled his horse round into a favourable station for seeing any thing the ladies might overlook. Rage gave the old butterwoman strength; she jumped up nimbly, and seized Mr. Schnackenberger so stoutly by the laps of his coat, that he vainly endeavoured to extricate himself from her grasp. At this crisis, up came Juno, and took her usual side in such disputes. But to do this with effect, Juno found it necessary first of all to tear off the coat lap; for, the old woman keeping such firm hold of it, how else could Juno lay her down on her back—set her paws upon her breast—and then look up to her master, as if asking for a cer​tificate of having acquitted herself to his satisfaction?
To rid himself of spectators, Mr. Jeremiah willingly paid the old woman the full amount of her demand, and then returned to the city. It disturbed him greatly, however, that the princess should thus again have seen him under circumstances of disgrace. Anxious desire to lay open his heart before her—and to place himself in a more advantageous light, if not as to his body, yet at all events as to his intellect—determined him to use his utmost interest with her to obtain a private audience; “at which,” thought he, “I can easily beg her pardon for having overslept the appointed hour.”
(To be concluded in next Number.)
* ↑ The custom in North Germany is to sleep under a bed as well as upon one; consequently, when this happens to be a cheap one, it cannot be stuffed with feathers, down, &c., but with some heavier material.
* ↑ “Meerschaum:” I believe a particular kind of clay, called “sea-spray,” from its fineness and lightness, from which the boles of pipes are made in Turkey—often at enormous prices, and much imported into Germany, where they are in great request. Such is the extent of my knowledge on the subject; or perhaps of my ignorance. But, in fact, I know nothing about it.
* ↑ In the original—“eine marketenderin.” a female sutler: but I have altered it, to save an explanation of what the old sutler was after.
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