Chambers\'s Edinburgh Journal, No. 442
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Various >> Chambers\'s Edinburgh Journal, No. 442
'Parbleu! quite ready; all ready counted in those charming assignats;
and that is the joke of it. I wish the old villain may call or send
soon'----
A gentle tap at the door interrupted the speaker. The son opened it,
and the notary, accompanied by his familiar, Pierre Nadaud, quietly
glided in.
'Talk of the devil,' growled Delessert audibly, 'and you are sure to
get a whisk of his tail. Well, messieurs,' he added more loudly, 'your
business?'
'Money--interest now due on the mortgage for three thousand francs,'
replied M. Destouches with much suavity.
'Interest for two years,' continued the sourly-sardonic accents of
Pierre Nadaud; 'six hundred francs precisely.'
'Very good, you shall have the money directly.' Delessert left the
room; the notary took out and unclasped a note-book; and Pierre Nadaud
placed a slip of _papier timbre_ on the dinner-table, preparatory to
writing a receipt.
'Here,' said Delessert, re-entering with a roll of soiled paper in his
hand, 'here are your six hundred francs, well counted.'
The notary reclasped his note-book, and returned it to his pocket;
Pierre Nadaud resumed possession of the receipt paper.
'You are not aware, then, friend Delessert,' said the notary, 'that
creditors are no longer compelled to receive assignats in payment?'
'How? What do you say?'
'Pierre,' continued M. Destouches, 'read the extract from _Le bulletin
des Lois_, published last week.' Pierre did so with a ringing
emphasis, which would have rendered it intelligible to a child; and
the unhappy debtor fully comprehended that his paper-money was
comparatively worthless! It is needless to dwell upon the fury
manifested by Delessert, the cool obduracy of the notary, or the
cynical comments of the clerk. Enough to say, that M. Destouches
departed without his money, after civilly intimating that legal
proceedings would be taken forthwith. The son strove to soothe his
father's passionate despair, but his words fell upon unheeding ears;
and after several hours passed in alternate paroxysms of stormy rage
and gloomy reverie, the elder Delessert hastily left the house, taking
the direction of Strasbourg. Le Bossu watched his father's retreating
figure from the door until it was lost in the clouds of blinding snow
that was rapidly falling, and then sadly resumed some indoor
employment. It was late when he retired to bed, and his father had not
then returned. He would probably remain, the son thought, at
Strasbourg for the night.
The chill, lead-coloured dawn was faintly struggling on the horizon
with the black, gloomy night, when Le Bossu rose. Ten minutes
afterwards, his father strode hastily into the house, and threw
himself, without a word, upon a seat. His eyes, the son observed, were
blood-shot, either with rage or drink--perhaps both; and his entire
aspect wild, haggard, and fierce. Le Bossu silently presented him with
a measure of _vin ordinaire_. It was eagerly swallowed, though
Delessert's hand shook so that he could scarcely hold the pewter
flagon to his lips.
'Something has happened,' said Le Bossu presently.
'Morbleu!--yes. That is,' added the father, checking himself,
'something _might_ have happened, if---- Who's there?'
'Only the wind shaking the door. What _might_ have happened?'
persisted the son.
'I will tell you, Antoine. I set off for Strasbourg yesterday, to see
Destouches once again, and entreat him to accept the assignats in
part-payment at least. He was not at home. Marguerite, the old
servant, said he was gone to the cathedral, not long since reopened.
Well, I found the usurer just coming out of the great western
entrance, heathen as he is, looking as pious as a pilgrim. I accosted
him, told my errand, begged, prayed, stormed! It was all to no
purpose, except to attract the notice and comments of the passers-by.
Destouches went his way, and I, with fury in my heart, betook myself
to a wine-shop--Le Brun's. He would not even change an assignat to
take for what I drank, which was not a little; and I therefore owe him
for it. When the gendarmes cleared the house at last, I was nearly
crazed with rage and drink. I must have been so, or I should never
have gone to the Rue Bechard, forced myself once more into the
notary's presence, and--and'----
'And what?' quivered the young man, as his father abruptly stopped,
startled as before into silence by a sudden rattling of the crazy
door. 'And what?'
'And abused him for a flinty-hearted scoundrel, as he is. He ordered
me away, and threatened to call the guard. I was flinging out of the
house, when Marguerite twitched me by the sleeve, and I stepped aside
into the kitchen. "You must not think," she said, "of going home on
such a night as this." It was snowing furiously, and blowing a
hurricane at the time. "There is a straw pallet," Marguerite added,
"where you can sleep, and nobody the wiser." I yielded. The good woman
warmed some soup, and the storm not abating, I lay down to rest--to
rest, do I say?' shouted Delessert, jumping madly to his feet, and
pacing furiously to and fro--'the rest of devils! My blood was in a
flame; and rage, hate, despair, blew the consuming fire by turns. I
thought how I had been plundered by the mercenary ruffian sleeping
securely, as he thought, within a dozen yards of the man he had
ruined--sleeping securely just beyond the room containing the
_secretaire_ in which the mortgage-deed of which I had been swindled
was deposited'----
'Oh, father!' gasped the son.
'Be silent, boy, and you shall know all! It may be that I dreamed all
this, for I think the creaking of a door, and a stealthy step on the
stair, awoke me; but perhaps that, too, was part of the dream.
However, I was at last wide awake, and I got up and looked out on the
cold night. The storm had passed, and the moon had temporarily broken
through the heavy clouds by which she was encompassed. Marguerite had
said I might let myself out, and I resolved to depart at once. I was
doing so, when, looking round, I perceived that the notary's
office-door was ajar. Instantly a demon whispered, that although the
law was restored, it was still blind and deaf as ever--could not see
or hear in that dark silence--and that I might easily baffle the
cheating usurer after all. Swiftly and softly, I darted towards the
half-opened door--entered. The notary's _secretaire_, Antoine, was
wide open! I hunted with shaking hands for the deed, but could not
find it. There was money in the drawers, and I--I think I should have
taken some--did perhaps, I hardly know how--when I heard, or thought I
did, a rustling sound not far off. I gazed wildly round, and plainly
saw in the notary's bedroom--the door of which, I had not before
observed, was partly open--the shadow of a man's figure clearly traced
by the faint moonlight on the floor. I ran out of the room, and out of
the house, with the speed of a madman, and here--here I am!' This
said, he threw himself into a seat, and covered his face with his
hands.
'That is a chink of money,' said Le Bossu, who had listened in dumb
dismay to his father's concluding narrative. 'You had none, you said,
when at the wine-shop.'
'Money! Ah, it may be as I said---- Thunder of heaven!' cried the
wretched man, again fiercely springing to his feet, 'I am lost!'
'I fear so,' replied a commissaire de police, who had suddenly
entered, accompanied by several gendarmes--'if it be true, as we
suspect, that you are the assassin of the notary Destouches.'
The assassin of the notary Destouches! Le Bossu heard but these words,
and when he recovered consciousness, he found himself alone, save for
the presence of a neighbour, who had been summoned to his assistance.
The _proces verbal_ stated, in addition to much of what has been
already related, that the notary had been found dead in his bed, at a
very early hour of the morning, by his clerk Pierre Nadaud, who slept
in the house. The unfortunate man had been stifled, by a pillow it was
thought. His _secretaire_ had been plundered of a very large sum,
amongst which were Dutch gold ducats--purchased by Destouches only the
day before--of the value of more than 6000 francs. Delessert's
mortgage-deed had also disappeared, although other papers of a similar
character had been left. Six crowns had been found on Delessert's
person, one of which was clipped in a peculiar manner, and was sworn
to by an _epicier_ as that offered him by the notary the day previous
to the murder, and refused by him. No other portion of the stolen
property could be found, although the police exerted themselves to the
utmost for that purpose.
There was, however, quite sufficient evidence to convict Delessert of
the crime, notwithstanding his persistent asseverations of innocence.
His known hatred of Destouches, the threats he had uttered concerning
him, his conduct in front of the cathedral, Marguerite's evidence, and
the finding the crown in his pocket, left no doubt of his guilt, and
he was condemned to suffer death by the guillotine. He appealed of
course, but that, everybody felt, could only prolong his life for a
short time, not save it.
There was one person, the convict's son, who did not for a moment
believe that his father was the assassin of Destouches. He was
satisfied in his own mind, that the real criminal was he whose step
Delessert had dreamed he heard upon the stair, who had opened the
office-door, and whose shadow fell across the bedroom floor; and his
eager, unresting thoughts were bent upon bringing this conviction home
to others. After awhile, light, though as yet dim and uncertain, broke
in upon his filial task.
About ten days after the conviction of Delessert, Pierre Nadaud called
upon M. Huguet, the procureur-general of Strasbourg. He had a serious
complaint to make of Delessert, _fils_. The young man, chiefly, he
supposed, because he had given evidence against his father, appeared
to be nourishing a monomaniacal hatred against him, Pierre Nadaud.
'Wherever I go,' said the irritated complainant, 'at whatever hour,
early in the morning and late at night, he dogs my steps. I can in no
manner escape him, and I verily believe those fierce, malevolent eyes
of his are never closed. I really fear he is meditating some violent
act. He should, I respectfully submit, be restrained--placed in a
_maison de sante_, for his intellects are certainly unsettled; or
otherwise prevented from accomplishing the mischief I am sure he
contemplates.'
M. Huguet listened attentively to this statement, reflected for a few
moments, said inquiry should be made in the matter, and civilly
dismissed the complainant.
In the evening of the same day, Le Bossu was brought before M. Huguet.
He replied to that gentleman's questioning by the avowal, that he
believed Nadaud had murdered M. Destouches. 'I believe also,' added
the young man, 'that I have at last hit upon a clue that will lead to
his conviction.'
'Indeed! Perhaps you will impart it to me?'
'Willingly. The property in gold and precious gems carried off has not
yet been traced. I have discovered its hiding-place.'
'Say you so? That is extremely fortunate.'
'You know, sir, that beyond the Rue des Vignes there are three houses
standing alone, which were gutted by fire some time since, and are now
only temporarily boarded up. That street is entirely out of Nadaud's
way, and yet he passes and repasses there five or six times a day.
When he did not know that I was watching him, he used to gaze
curiously at those houses, as if to notice if they were being
disturbed for any purpose. Lately, if he suspects I am at hand, he
keeps his face determinedly _away_ from them, but still seems to have
an unconquerable hankering after the spot. This very morning, there
was a cry raised close to the ruins, that a child had been run over by
a cart. Nadaud was passing: he knew I was close by, and violently
checking himself, as I could see, kept his eyes fixedly _averted_ from
the place, which I have no longer any doubt contains the stolen
treasure.'
'You are a shrewd lad,' said M. Huguet, after a thoughtful pause. 'An
examination shall at all events take place at nightfall. You, in the
meantime, remain here under surveillance.'
Between eleven and twelve o'clock, Le Bossu was again brought into M.
Huguet's presence. The commissary who arrested his father was also
there. 'You have made a surprising guess, if it _be_ a guess,' said
the procureur. 'The missing property has been found under a
hearth-stone of the centre house.' Le Bossu raised his hands, and
uttered a cry of delight. 'One moment,' continued M. Huguet. 'How do
we know this is not a trick concocted by you and your father to
mislead justice?'
'I have thought of that,' replied Le Bossu calmly. 'Let it be given
out that I am under restraint, in compliance with Nadaud's request;
then have some scaffolding placed to-morrow against the houses, as if
preparatory to their being pulled down, and you will see the result,
if a quiet watch is kept during the night.' The procureur and
commissary exchanged glances, and Le Bossu was removed from the room.
It was verging upon three o'clock in the morning, when the watchers
heard some one very quietly remove a portion of the back-boarding of
the centre house. Presently, a closely-muffled figure, with a
dark-lantern and a bag in his hand, crept through the opening, and
made direct for the hearth-stone; lifted it, turned on his light
slowly, gathered up the treasure, crammed it into his bag, and
murmured with an exulting chuckle as he reclosed the lantern and stood
upright: 'Safe--safe, at last!' At the instant, the light of half a
dozen lanterns flashed upon the miserable wretch, revealing the stern
faces of as many gendarmes. 'Quite safe, M. Pierre Nadaud!' echoed
their leader. 'Of that you may be assured.' He was unheard: the
detected culprit had fainted.
There is little to add. Nadaud perished by the guillotine, and
Delessert was, after a time, liberated. Whether or not he thought his
ill-gotten property had brought a curse with it, I cannot say; but, at
all events, he abandoned it to the notary's heirs, and set off with Le
Bossu for Paris, where, I believe, the sign of 'Delessert et Fils,
Ferblantiers,' still flourishes over the front of a respectably
furnished shop.
PHILOSOPHY OF THE SHEARS.
The vestiarian profession has always been ill-treated by the world.
Men have owed much, and in more senses than one, to their tailors, and
have been accustomed to pay their debt in sneers and railleries--often
in nothing else. The stage character of the tailor is stereotyped from
generation to generation; his goose is a perennial pun; and his
habitual melancholy is derived to this day from the flatulent diet on
which he _will_ persist in living--cabbage. He is effeminate,
cowardly, dishonest--a mere fraction of a man both in soul and body.
He is represented by the thinnest fellow in the company; his starved
person and frightened look are the unfailing signals for a laugh; and
he is never spoken to but in a gibe at his trade:
'Thou liest, thou thread,
Thou thimble,
Thou yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, nail;
Away thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant;
Or I shall so bemete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt think on prating while thou liv'st!'
All this is not a very favourable specimen of the way in which the
stage holds the mirror up to nature. We may suppose that a certain
character of effeminacy attached to a tailor in that olden time when
he was the fashioner for women as well as men; but now that he has no
professional dealings with the fair sex but when they assume masculine
'habits,' it is unreasonable to continue the stigma. In like manner,
when the cloth belonged to the customer, it was allowable enough to
suspect him of a little amiable weakness for cabbage; but now that he
is himself the clothier, the joke is pointless and absurd. Tailors,
however, can afford to laugh, as well as other people, at their
conventional double--or rather _ninth_, for at least in our own day
they have wrought very hard to elevate their calling into a science.
The period of lace and frippery of all kinds has passed away, and this
is the era of simple form, in which sartorial genius has only cloth to
work upon as severely plain as the statuary's marble. It is true, we
ourselves do not understand the 'anatomical principles' on which the
more philosophical of the craft proceed, nor does our scholarship
carry us quite the length of their Greek (?) terminology; but we
acknowledge the result in their workmanship, although we cannot trace
the steps by which it is brought about.
Very different is the plan now from what it was in the days of Shemus
nan Snachad, James of the Needle, hereditary tailor to Vich Ian Vohr,
when men were measured as classes rather than as individuals, and when
a cutter had only to glance at the customer to ascertain to which
category he belonged.
'You know the measure of a well-made man? Two double nails to the
small of the leg'----
'Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist. I give your honour
leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of shears in the Highlands
that has a baulder sneck than her ain at the _camadh an truais_ (shape
of the trews).' And so the thing was done, without tape or figures,
without a word of Greek or anatomy! However, the anatomical tailors we
shall not meddle with for the present, because we do not understand
their science; nor with the Greek tailors, because we fear to take
the liberty; nor with the Hebrew tailors, because we are only a
Gentile ourselves. Our object is to draw attention to the doings of an
individual who interferes with no science but his own, and who
patronises exclusively his mother-tongue, which is not Hebrew, but
broad Scotch.
This individual is Mr Macdonald, a near neighbour of ours, who, about
eighteen years ago, listened with curiosity, but not with dread, to
the clamorous pretensions of the craft to which he belonged. At that
time, every man had a 'new principle' of his own for the sneck of the
shears, some theoretical mode of cutting, which was to make the coat
fit like the skin. Our neighbour, who had a practical and mechanical,
rather than a speculative head, resolved not to be behind in the race
of competition, but to proceed in a different way. 'It is all very
well,' thought he, 'to talk of principles and theories; but with the
requisite apparatus, the human figure may be measured as accurately as
a block of stone;' and accordingly he set to work, not to invent a
theory, but to construct a machine. This machine, though exhibited
some time ago in the School of Arts, and received with great favour,
we happened not to hear of till a few days ago; but a visit to our
neighbour puts it now in our power to report that his apparatus does
much more, as we shall presently explain, than measure a customer.
The machine consists of three perpendicular pieces of wood, the centre
one between six and seven feet high, with a plinth for the measuree to
stand upon. The wood is marked from top to bottom with inches and
parts of an inch, and is furnished with slides, fitting closely, but
movable at the pleasure of the operator. When the customer places
himself upon this machine, standing at his full height, he has much
the appearance of a man suffering the punishment of crucifixion, only
his arms, instead of being extended, hang motionless by his sides,
with the fingers pointed. A slide is now run up between the victim's
legs, to give the measurement of what is technically called the fork;
while others mark in like manner upon the inch scale, the position of
the knees, hips, tips of the fingers, shoulder, neck, head, &c. When
the operator is satisfied that he has thus obtained the accurate
admeasurement of the figure, in its natural position when standing
erect, the gentleman steps from the machine, and turning round, sees
an exact diagram, in wood, of his own proportions.
This instrument, it will be seen, is very well adapted for the object
for which it was intended; but it would, nevertheless, have escaped
our inspection but for the other purposes of observation to which it
has been applied by the ingenious inventor. He has measured in all
about 5000 adults, registering in a book the measurement of each, with
the names written by themselves. Among the autographs, we find that of
Sir David Wilkie in the neighbourhood of the names of half a dozen
American Indians. Here would be a new branch of inquiry for those who
are addicted to the study of character through the handwriting. With
such abundant materials before them, they would doubtless be able to
determine the height and general proportions of their unseen
correspondents. In the article of height, many men correspond to the
minutest portion of an inch; but in the other proportions of the
figure, it would seem that no two human beings are alike. So great is
the disparity in persons of the same height, that the trunk of an
individual of five feet and a half, is occasionally found to be as
long as that of a man of six feet. In fact, Mr Macdonald, in an early
period of his measurements, was so confounded by the difference in the
proportions, that he at once came to the conclusion, that our
population is made up of mixed tribes of mankind.
In the midst of all this diversity, the question was, What were the
proper proportions? or, in other words, What proportions constituted a
handsome figure? and here our vestiarian philosopher was for a long
time at a loss. At length, however, he took 300 measurements, without
selection, including the length of the trunk, of the head and neck,
and of the fork, and adding them all together, struck the average:
from which it resulted, that the average head and neck gives 10-1/2
inches; trunk, 25 inches; and fork, 32 inches; making the whole
figure, from the crown of the head to the sole of the _shoe_, 5 feet
7-1/2 inches. The word we have italicised is the drawback: a tailor
measures with the shoes on; and Mr Macdonald can only approximate to
the truth when he deducts half an inch for the sole, and declares the
average height of our population to be five feet seven inches. On this
basis, however, he constructed a scale of beauty applying to all
heights: If a man of 5 feet 7 inches give 10-1/2 inches for head and
neck, 25 for trunk, and 31-1/2 for fork, what should another give, of
6 feet, or any other height? The approximation of a man's actual
measurement to this rule of three determines his pretensions in the
way of symmetry; and the inventor of the _shibboleth_ has found it so
far to answer, that a figure coming near the rule invariably pleases
the eye, and gives the assurance of a handsome man. Independently of
this advantage, a man of such proportions has great strength, and is
able to withstand the fatigue of violent exercise for a longer period
than one less symmetrically formed.
The term 'adult,' however, used by Mr Macdonald to designate those he
measured, is not satisfactory--it does not inform us that the persons
measured had reached their full development; for men continue to grow,
as has been shewn by M. Quetelet, even after twenty-five. The height
given, notwithstanding--five feet seven inches--in all probability
approximates pretty closely to the true average; and the very
different result shewn in Professor Forbes's measurements in the
University must be set pretty nearly out of the question. The number
of Scotsmen measured by the professor was 523 in all; but these were
of eleven different ages, from fifteen to twenty-five, all averaged
separately; and supposing the number of each age to have been alike,
this would give less than fifty of the age of twenty-five--the average
height of whom was 69.3 inches. But independently of the smallness of
the number, the professor's customers were volunteers, and it is not
to be supposed that under-sized persons would put themselves forward
on such an occasion. It may be added, that even the height of the
boot-heels of young collegians of twenty-five would tend to falsify
the average.
Men do not only differ in their proportions from other men, but from
themselves. The arms and legs may be paired, but they are not matched,
and in every respect one side of the body is different from the other:
the eyes are not set straight across the face, neither is the mouth;
the nose is inclined to one side; the ears are of different sizes, and
one is nearer the crown of the head than the other; there are not two
fingers, nor two nails on the fingers, alike, and the same
disagreement runs through the whole figure. This, however, is so
common an observation, that we should not have thought it necessary to
mention it, but for the bearing the facts given by our statist have
upon the common theory by which the irregularity is sought to be
accounted for. This declares, that use is the cause of the greater
growth of one limb, &c.: that the right hand, for instance, is larger
than the left, because it is in more active service. It appears,
however, that although the left limbs are in general smaller, this is
not, as it is usually supposed, invariably the case; while the ears
and eyes, that are used indiscriminately, present the same relative
difference of size. We do not, therefore, make our own proportions in
this respect: we come into the world with them, and our occupations
merely exaggerate a natural defect. An idle man will have one arm half
an inch longer than the other; while a woman, who has been accustomed
in early years to carry a child, exhibits a difference amounting
sometimes to an inch and a half.