Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66, No 405, July 1849

Various

Various

Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 66, No 405, July 1849

CHRISTOPHER UNDER CANVASS

Encampment at Cladich. Time – Eleven, A.M.

SCENE – The Portal of the Pavilion.

North – Buller – Seward.

BULLER.

I know there is nothing you dislike so much as personal observations —

NORTH.

On myself to myself – not at all on others.

BULLER.

Yet I cannot help telling you to your face, sir, that you are one of the finest-looking old men —

NORTH.

Elderly gentlemen, if you please, sir.

BULLER.

In Britain, in Europe, in the World. I am perfectly serious, sir. You are.

NORTH.

You needed not to say you were perfectly serious: for I suffer no man to be ironical on Me, Mr Buller. I am.

BULLER.

Such a change since we came to Cladich! Seward was equally shocked, with myself, at your looks on board the Steamer. So lean – so bent – so sallow – so haggard – in a word – so aged!

NORTH.

Were you shocked, Seward?

SEWARD.

Buller has such a blunt way with him that he often makes me blush. I was not shocked, my dear sir, but I was affected.

BULLER.

Turning to me, he said in a whisper, "What a wreck!"

NORTH.

I saw little alteration on you, Mr Seward; but as to Buller, it was with the utmost difficulty I could be brought, by his reiterated asseverations, into a sort of quasi-belief in his personal identity; and even now, it is far from amounting to anything like a settled conviction. Why, his face is twice the breadth it used to be – and so red! It used to be narrow and pale. Then what a bushy head – now, cocker it as he will, bald. In figure was he not slim? Now, stout's the word. Stout – stout – yes, Buller, you have grown stout, and will grow stouter – your doom is to be fat – I prophesy paunch —

BULLER.

Spare me – spare me, sir. Seward should not have interrupted me – 'twas but the first impression – and soon wore off – those Edinboro' people have much to answer for – unmercifully wearing you out at their ceaseless soirées– but since you came to Cladich, sir, Christopher's Himself again – pardon my familiarity – nor can I now, after the minutest inspection, and severest scrutiny, detect one single additional wrinkle on face or forehead – nay, not a wrinkle at all – not one – so fresh of colour, too, sir, that the irradiation is at times ruddy – and without losing an atom of expression, the countenance absolutely – plump. Yes, sir, plump's the word – plump, plump, plump.

NORTH.

Now you speak sensibly, and like yourself, my dear Buller. I wear well.

BULLER.

Your enemies circulated a report —

NORTH.

I did not think I had an enemy in the world.

BULLER.

Your friends, sir, had heard a rumour – that you had mounted a wig.

NORTH.

And was there, among them all, one so weak-minded as to believe it? But to be sure, there are no bounds to the credulity of mankind.

BULLER.

That you had lost your hair – and that, like Sampson —

NORTH.

And by what Delilah had my locks been shorn?

SEWARD.

It all originated, I verily believe, sir, in the moved imagination of the Pensive Public:

"Res est soliciti plena timoris Amor."

NORTH.

Buller, I see little, if any – no change whatever – on you, since the days of Deeside – nor on you, Seward. Yes, I do. Not now, when by yourselves; but when your boys are in Tent, ah! then I do indeed – a pleasant, a happy, a blessed change! Bright boys they are – delightful lads – noble youths – and so are my Two – emphasis on my—

SEWARD AND BULLER.

Yes, all emphasis, and may the Four be friends for life.

NORTH.

In presence of us old folks, composed and respectful – in manly modesty attentive to every word we say – at times no doubt wearisome enough! Yet each ready, at a look or pause, to join in when we are at our gravest – and the solemn may be getting dull – enlivening the sleepy flow of our conversation as with rivulets issuing from pure sources in the hills of the morning —

SEWARD.

Ay – ay; heaven bless them all!