TWO FRENCH “LADIES”
But I am anticipating events, for I have not yet left school. If all had gone well with the studies, the pupils were permitted to celebrate their birthdays by some festivity, and my favourite namesake, Mary Broadwood, and I had for the last two years kept ours together, as they were within a few days of each other. So we set to work, she and I, and made a very free translation from the Italian of one of Alberto Nota’s celebrated comedies, and having cast the company in our own minds, we gained Miss Poggi’s permission to give a dramatic representation of The Bachelor Philosopher, in which the two authors were to perform the two principal male characters. My namesake appeared in what our German neighbours call the “title-role,” and looked very bonnie in a dainty court dress, which showed off her beautiful leg and foot to perfection. And here I must pause to observe that Miss Poggi withstood the request which Madame Michau made, that her husband might accompany her on the night of the performance. “For, you see,” said Miss Poggi, “all our actors are ladies.” But on the evening in question, Madame Michau arrived in company with her belle-mère, a lady of rather a masculine appearance, whose chin had a suspiciously blue colouring; but no questions were asked, and the two French ladies took the places reserved for them.
The character I had selected for myself was that of an Italian nobleman, whose whole soul was entwined around his genealogical tree. My costume consisted of—oh! pride and rapture!—a yellow tunic and blue satin cloak, all glittering with spangles, and a bonâ fide page’s dress, borrowed from the wardrobe of Drury Lane Theatre, by the influence of Elizabeth Richardson; while my fair locks were duly powdered and combed and put into a black satin bag, so that I flattered myself I presented a manly and venerable appearance.
The prettiest girl in the school, Emily Elves by name, was our jeune première, while an elderly spinster was very well impersonated by another member of the community. When the curtain dropped, dancing began, and, in respect of my “noble birth and ancestral tendencies,” I was permitted to lead out the charming daughter[[26]] of the reigning Duke of Bedford. I wonder if she can recall that night as vividly as I can, but if she should ever honour these pages by reading them so far, let me take this opportunity of assuring her that I consider her one of the most delightful partners I ever had, and I have had many since that day.
[26]. Lady Louisa Russell, afterwards wife of James, first Duke of Abercorn.
SMUGGLERS AND COASTGUARD
I have omitted to mention that our school, which was originally situated in Regency Square, had been removed to the extreme end of Brunswick Terrace. Indeed, Miss Poggi was one of the first to go so far away from the frequented part of Brighton. I well remember once, in the dead of night, being roused by hearing shots fired immediately under my window, followed by shouts and cries. The next morning the mystery was solved. There had been an encounter between smugglers and the coastguard; one man had been severely wounded, and had only escaped death by hiding in some miraculous manner. Then one of the officers of the coastguard called upon Miss Poggi, and complained that to the best of his belief the offender had been secreted in her house by one of the maidservants. The reply to that complaint was a natural one: “I have not inquired into the matter, but I should think it most probable that if a woman saw any man flying for his life, she would do her best to save him, without stopping to inquire into the cause of his flight.”
In those days, be it remembered, “smuggling” was considered but a venial crime, and many, especially amongst the gentler sex, were found willing to wink at it.
So wayward is human nature, that I believe I shed as many tears at leaving school as I did on my first arrival, overjoyed though I was at the prospect of returning home for good.