FOOTNOTES
[1] Such an omission seems hardly credible; but the Commission published in the London Gazette of 26th August, 1859, recites only that inquiries are to be made “into the present state, condition, and sufficiency of the fortifications existing for the defence of our United Kingdom, and of examining into all works at present in progress for the improvement thereof, and for considering the most effectual means of rendering the same complete, especially all such works of defence as are intended for the protection of our royal arsenals and dockyards in case of any hostile attack being made by foreign enemies both by sea and land.” Not a word about the metropolis.
[2] “Mais si soixante mille Français prenaient terre entre Hastings et Douvres, et qu’une bataille heureuse leur permit de s’avancer jusque sur les borde de la Medway et de la Tamise, ils pourraient, en vingt-quatre heures, détruire plusieurs milliards de matériels et de marchandise, et porter à la fortune de l’Angleterre un coup dont elle aurait peine à se relever.”—Extract of Lieut.-Col. Ardent’s (of the Corps du Génie) paper on “The Defence of the Country south of London,” from papers on subjects connected with the duties of the corps of Royal Engineers. 1849.
[3] “If, in 1814, Paris had possessed a citadel capable of holding out for only eight days, the destinies of the world would have been changed. If, in 1805, Vienna had been fortified, the battle of Ulm would not have decided the war. If, in 1806, Berlin had been fortified, the army beaten at Jena might have rallied there till the Russian army advanced to its relief. If, in 1808, Madrid had been fortified, the French army, after the victories of Espenosa, Indela, and Somosierra, could never have ventured to march upon that capital, leaving the English army in the neighbourhood of Salamanca in its rear.”—Alison’s Europe, c. 37.
Lovel the Widower.
CHAPTER VI.
Cecilia’s Successor.
Monsieur et honore Lecteur! I see, as perfectly as if you were sitting opposite to me, the scorn depicted on your noble countenance, when you read my confession that I, Charles Batchelor, Esquire, did burglariously enter the premises of Edward Drencher, Esquire, M.R.C.S.I. (phew! the odious pestle-grinder, I never could bear him!) and break open, and read a certain letter, his property. I may have been wrong, but I am candid. I tell my misdeeds; some fellows hold their tongues. Besides, my good man, consider the temptation, and the horrid insight into the paper which Bedford’s report had already given me. Would you like to be told that the girl of your heart was playing at fast and loose with it, had none of her own, or had given hers to another? I don’t want to make a Mrs. Robin Gray of any woman, and merely because “her mither presses her sair” to marry her against her will. “If Miss Prior,” thought I, “prefers this lint-scraper to me, ought I to balk her? He is younger, and stronger, certainly, than myself. Some people may consider him handsome. (By the way, what a remarkable thing it is about many women, that, in affairs of the heart, they don’t seem to care or understand whether a man is a gentleman or not.) It may be it is my superior fortune and social station which may induce Elizabeth to waver in her choice between me and my bleeding, bolusing, toothdrawing rival. If so, and I am only taken from mercenary considerations, what a pretty chance of subsequent happiness do either of us stand! Take the vaccinator, girl, if thou preferrest him! I know what it is to be crossed in love already. It’s hard, but I can bear it! I ought to know, I must know, I will know what is in that paper!” So saying, as I pace round and round the table where the letter lies flickering white under the midnight taper, I stretch out my hand—I seize the paper—I——well, I own it—there—yes—I took it, and I read it.
