Page:Once a Week Volume V.djvu/193

 186 shawl; Taurus stops, stares, and again trots forward. More shouting and waving of the shawl; more bellowing and trotting. By this time Amelia has reached the gate; Taurus being quite satisfied about this makes his rush; Orlando then performs astounding feats with stones and his hat, steadily retreating at every opportunity. Finally, with all the skill of a matador, he blinds the bull with the shawl and escapes through the gate. The Earl, who has seen all this from his study-window, now comes forward, places Amelia’s hand in Orlando’s, blesses them with many tears, and then they all go in to luncheon. The bull observing this from his side of the gate, apparently thinks it a good idea, and returns to his pasture. That is the regular course. Sometimes it is varied with labourers armed with pitchforks and hoes, but it comes to exactly the same thing in the end: the bull is foiled and the lovers are made happy.

The principal attributes of the novel bull appear to be these. A great taste for stamping, bellowing, staring, lashing himself with his tail, and digging up the turf with his horns. All true to Nature, doubtless, but still rather wearying on the tenth or twentieth recital. Then good-nature and forbearance are very strong points of his. For he never really hurts the lady after all. He’s only in fun. A careful study of the novel bull has assured me of this fact, that he never makes his rush till the lady has got to the gate. Still further, he never hurts the lover. He makes rushes at him, he stamps on his hat, sometimes sends his horns through his coat, but hurt him! not for the smiles of all the cows in England. Like the lion that will not touch the true prince, the novel bull will not touch the true lover. He is “as valiant as Hercules—but beware instinct.” Hurt the true lover! He would die first, as did his great ancestor, who founded the family. Yes. That bull that ran at Lucy Ashton and was shot by Edgar Ravenswood, in dying gave life to hundreds. It would be impossible to name half his descendants. Sometimes they appear in herds; sometimes singly; sometimes you have both the single bull and the herd. But however, or whenever, the novel bull appears, it is for a good purpose: to show the daring of the true lover, or the cowardice of the false; to excite the affection of the lady, or the gratitude of the parent. How bad soever things may look, let the bull once show his face and they are sure to mend. Oh! heroes and heroines, fear him not for the future. Though his bellow may sound very harsh, it is in reality “an amiable low.”

Bless the bull! all the novelists that ever made use of him, and their name is Legion, ought to subscribe and raise a statue to him. It would look well in Trafalgar Square, and should stand near Jenner’s. People would think it had some reference to vaccination. Bless that bull! In how many love affairs has he not assisted? How many stern parents has he not softened? Oh yes! If you are in love with Virgo, the Virgin, pray for the aid of Taurus, the Bull.

Now these are a few of the commonest novel incidents. I don’t deny that they are all quite natural and very effective, but though we may still feel the thrill of excitement when we read of the house on fire and the water party, though that rich old uncle and that good-natured bull may still be dear to us all,—as how could they be otherwise after so long an acquaintance,—yet surely novelists might shape their ends with means a little more original—a little less hackneyed than these. I think—if it is not so, I am greatly mistaken—I think the word novel has some connection with novelty. Why does this connection hold good in etymology alone?

newspaper readers must often notice a certain class of advertisements in some of the London papers announcing that “Officers on full pay, clergymen, reversioners of real or personal property, and heirs to landed estates can be confidentially advised on loans for long or short periods on liberal terms. Address X. Y. Z., &c.”

It is in vain that Hogarth painted his wonderful pictures of the Rake’s Progress, and that the oft-told tales of ruin appear in the annals of the Insolvent Court; for, in spite of these constant warnings, there are numbers of young men—and middle-aged men too—who will drink their fill of pleasure at any price. The simple act of writing his name across a little strip of stamped paper will furnish young Scapegrace with horses, carriages, opera-boxes, Richmond dinners, and drags for the races—in fact, with the aid of bill discounters, he can procure for himself a prominent place in the fashionable world.

The bill discounter has nothing to do but to sit quietly in his handsomely furnished chambers ready to receive his victims, like a spider in its web watching for flies. Let us christen the fashionable bill discounter Mr. Lasher: I never knew any one of that name, so it is a harmless coinage. His chambers are at the West End, and are generally artfully arranged, so that the client going in never meets the man who is coming out. Lasher’s habits are expensive. His horses and carriages are showy; his house in the suburbs of London is gorgeously furnished, and Mrs. Lasher’s diamonds sparkle brilliantly as she sits at the head of her table on grand days when Lasher entertains some of his customers.

If Lasher is not an attorney, he is sure to have a brother or relative of some kind who is; and when poor Prodigal comes home with nothing to show for his riotous living but a writ in the action of Lasher v. Prodigal, the family solicitor has only to glance at the attorney’s name on the back of the writ to see whether Lasher’s, or Mordecai’s, or Israel Solomon’s gang have robbed the unhappy defendant.

Probably the most frequent victims of bill discounters are young fellows in the army. If a youngster takes a fancy to cards, billiards, racing, and similar expensive amusements, it will be a long time before he discovers that all is vanity; and unless he has the purse of Fortunatus, he must fall into the hands of the bill discounters. Nor is the temptation of raising money confined to London. The leading bill discounters have agents in every garrison in England, Scotland, and Ireland, and no doubt in the colonies too. It