John Leech, His Life and Work Volume II Part 13

Leech's drawings which decorate "Miss Kilmansegg" display his appreciation of beauty and character, and are, in some examples, of great artistic excellence--notably in the portrait of the foreign gentleman who became the husband of the heiress. Some of them are, of course, deficient in the artistic qualities with which his long practice enabled him to enrich his latest work.

My s.p.a.ce will not permit of my making many extracts from Hood's admirable work--only, indeed, so far as to explain Leech's drawings; but to those of my readers who make Miss Kilmansegg's acquaintance for the first time in these pages, I heartily recommend a perusal of the poem, and envy them the pleasure they will find in reading it.

Of course Miss Kilmansegg

"... learnt to sing and to dance, To sit on a horse although he should prance, And to speak a French not spoken in France Any more than at Babel's building."

The steed was a thoroughbred of great spirit--

"A regular thoroughbred Irish horse, And he ran away, as a matter of course, With a girl worth her weight in guineas."

I think it would be very difficult to find a description of any event in any book to equal Hood's account of the mad career of the Irish horse and its unfortunate rider:

"Away went the horse in the madness of fright, And away went the horsewoman mocking the sight; Was yonder blue flash a flash of blue light, Or only the flash of her habit?

"Away she flies, and the groom behind"--

encountering all the perils of London streets, till the inevitable catastrophe takes place:

"On and on! still frightfully fast!

Dover Street, Bond Street, all are past!

But--yes--no--yes!--they're down at last!

There's a shriek and a sob And the dense dark mob Like a billow closes around them!

'She breathes!'

'She don't'

'She'll recover!'

'She won't.'

'She's stirring! she's living by Nemesis!'

Gold, still gold, on counter and shelf, Golden dishes as plenty as delf, Miss Kilmansegg's coming again to herself On an opulent goldsmith's premises!"

The heiress recovers; but, alas! in her fall she broke her leg, and as "the limb was doomed it couldn't be saved." A subst.i.tute must be found.

Of what, then, shall the "proxy limb" be made?

"She couldn't--she shouldn't--she wouldn't have wood!

Nor a leg of cork, if she never stood; And she swore an oath, or something as good, The proxy limb should be golden!

So a leg was made in a comely mould Of gold--fine virgin, glittering gold-- As solid as man could make it; Solid in foot, and calf, and shank, A prodigious sum of money it sank; In fact 'twas a Branch of the family Bank, And no easy matter to break it."

The golden leg became the talk of the town, kicking away all other attractions. The new novel, the new murder, even "wild Irish riots and rum-p.u.s.s.es," were neglected; in fact, "the leg was in everybody's mouth," and a grand fancy ball was given at the Kilmansegg mansion to celebrate the heiress's recovery, as well as to exhibit the golden leg.

All the world and his wife worship at the golden shrine:

"In they go--in jackets, and cloaks, Plumes and bonnets, turbans and tokes, As if to a congress of nations: Greeks and Malays, with daggers and dirks, Spaniards and Jews, Chinese and Turks-- Some like original foreign works, But mostly like bad translations.

But where--where--where? with one accord Cried Moses and Mufti, Jack and my Lord, w.a.n.g-Fong and Il Bondacani-- When slow and heavy, and dead as a dump, They heard a foot begin to stump, Thump! lump!

Lump! thump!

Like the spectre in 'Don Giovanni!'

"And lo! the heiress, Miss Kilmansegg, With her splendid, brilliant, beautiful leg, In the garb of a G.o.ddess olden-- Like chaste Diana going to hunt With a golden spear--which of course was blunt, And a tunic looped up to a gem in front, To show the leg was golden."

The fancy ball was a great success, and at supper--which the poet describes in glowing language--the heiress's health was proposed:

"'Miss Kilmansegg, Full gla.s.ses I beg.

Miss Kilmansegg and her Precious Leg!'

And away went the bottle careering!

Wine in b.u.mpers! and shouts in peals!

Till the clown didn't know his head from his heels, The Mussulman's eyes danced two-some reels, And the Quaker was hoa.r.s.e with cheering!"

The party being over, and the last guest gone, Miss Kilmansegg went to bed and to dream:

"Miss Kilmansegg took off her leg And laid it down like a cribbage-peg, For the rout was done and the riot; The square was hushed, not a sound was heard The sky was gray, and no creature stirr'd Except one little precocious bird That chirped--and then was quiet.

"And then on the bed her frame she cast, The time for repose had come at last; But long, long after the storm is past Rolls the turbid, turbulent billow."

She dreams:

"Gold! she saw at her golden foot The Peer whose tree has an olden root; The Proud, the Great, the Learned to boot, The handsome, the gay, and the witty-- The man of Science--of Arms--of Art, The man who deals but at Pleasure's mart, And the man who deals in the City."

The poet now rhymes delightfully of the time--the perilous time--when a choice has to be made of a partner in life for the heiress. The dream was realized so far as regards the number of her suitors, for--

"to tell the rigid truth, Her favour was sought by Age and Youth, For the prey will find a prowler!

She was followed, flattered, courted, address'd, Woo'd and coo'd and wheedl'd, and press'd By suitors from North, South, East, and West, Like that Heiress in song, 'Tibbie Fowler.'"

The _embarras de choix_ resulted, as often happens, in the selection of the worst of the group:

"A foreign Count--who came incog.

Not under a cloud, but under a fog, In a Calais packet's fore-cabin,

To charm some lady British-born, With his eyes as black as the fruit of the thorn, And his hooky nose, and his beard half shorn, Like a half-converted Rabbin.

"He was dressed like one of the glorious trade-- At least, when Glory is off parade-- With a stock, and a frock, well trimmed with braid, And frogs--that went a-wooing."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE FOREIGN COUNT."]

He could

"act the tender, and do the cruel; For amongst his other killing parts, He had broken a brace of female hearts, And murdered three men in a duel.

"Savage at heart, and false of tongue; Subtle with age, and smooth to the young, Like a snake in his coiling and curling, Such was the Count--to give him a niche-- Who came to court that heiress rich, And knelt at her foot--one needn't say which-- Besieging her Castle of _Sterling_."

In the whole range of Leech's art, no more subtle realization of character can be found than this wonderful drawing presents; in every touch, in every line, can be read the savage brutality of the man to whom the happiness of Hood's poor rich heroine is confided. How evident is "the trail of the serpent" over features not unhandsome! The love that could fail to be warned by such a face must be blind indeed. The poet's comments, and the contrast he shows between the lots of those who "marry for money" and those in whom simple and true love have been the guiding stars, are delightful. I add an example: