great attention to our dress. But among us
were some revolutionary elements, and the
fomenter of all was a certain half Mexican,
Manuel Nuños. He was a sort of "red," but a
very pusillanimous "red," who, though wearing
a great beard and moustache, had been known,
when his intrigues were exposed, to go down on
his knees, and roar and cry not to be sent home to
Mexico. I recollect this crafty emissary working
on the younger Epicureans, artfully stirring
them up and inflaming their fancied wrongs.
It was he and some others who skilfully worked
the agitation against the French professor: a
most accomplished gentleman and admirable
scholar, who superintended our studies. He
worked on our national prejudices. Some of us,
especially Linton, claimed to be "men of the
world," and were sarcastic, though politely
so, of course. Linton was about two-and-
twenty, had spent years in Paris, was good-
looking, and had a perfect wardrobe of
fashionably-cut coats, which he wore with
corresponding grace. It was noticed that when
strangers came, Linton could speak to them
with natural easiness of equality, yet without
familiarity. We felt oppressed by a sense of
awe and reverence, as if in the presence of
superior beings. By a mere elevation of the
eyebrows and an amused smile, perfectly
respectful all the time, Linton could embarrass
our French professor to an amazing degree.
That gentleman spoke our tongue wonderfully,
for a Frenchman, but in presence of Linton—at
dinner, say—who seemed to listen with a
respectfully amused air until he should finish—he
always faltered. Laboriously anxious that he
might apprehend his meaning, Linton would,
with many excuses, lay the blame of misunderstanding
on himself, and beg that he would
repeat it. The open laughter all round at these
studiously polite passages—we were sadly boorish
—would make our poor professor colour
and be confused. At last, one day, he lost
all patience and temper, and told Linton that
he was ungenerous, unmanly, and shabby;
that he saw and understood perfectly what he
was doing; and that he thought it mean, and did
not envy his (Linton's) feelings. We delighted
in repeating a passage in this expostulation,
which was said to have taken the shape of
"onjenny Russe, onmanlee, and shebbee!" And
even at dinner, before the master's face, we
would tell each other that we were "shebbee."
But our hero and man of the world, Linton,
had him on the hip. He at once took on
himself to call a meeting in the billiard-room on a
matter affecting our interest. He addressed us
there. We had all seen "the uncalled-for attack"
that had been made on him, and what he must
call the remarkable temper with which he had
received it. He was going to lay the matter
before a higher tribunal. That concerned
himself; but there was another view affecting us.
How long was this to go on? If we allowed
ourselves to be treated any way, why, well and
good. But in the world it was usually observed
that people encroached, the more licence they
got. It was purely for us to consider this
general aspect of the question.

Linton went himself to wait on the Head of
the House, stated his case with great deference
and politeness, and gave what he called a plain
and unvarnished history of the matter. The Head
of the House, a little taken aback, said he would
send for the French professor. We could see
by the silent and injured looks of our professor
at dinner that the matter had been given against
him. Linton, with his wonderful air of the
world, addressed him with cordiality several
times, and even tried to encourage him by
bringing on—generously, as we thought—the
subject of French politics. But it would not
do. "You see," Linton afterwards said, with
a wave of his hand, "what the man is! Perhaps
it is more his country than himself that is to
blame." We were indignant at this behaviour,
worked on by the Mexican. Besides, it was
given out that our professor was addicted to
various "mean French ways" (there was not a
particle of truth in this), and that he listened
with his ear to keyholes, and spied after every
one. Indeed, the Mexican went so far as to
say he had "caught him at the end of the gallery
on his knees, with his eye to Johnson's door, just
before evening." There was a circumstantial
particularity about this charge that lifted it above
suspicion. The man of the world had prepared a
paper, a document. He had thrown together a
few ideas. It was "an address" to the head of the
House, couched in the most elegant and respectful
terms known to the English language, praying
for the removal of the professor. It was
drawn up in heads, "I., II.," &c., and I
distinctly remember the wording of one paragraph:
"And the gentlemen Epicureans would respectfully
suggest the unsuitability of a foreigner
whose natural ignorance of English tastes and
habits unfit him," &c. There were other
complaints as to diet, &c., drawn up with almost
legal nicety and roundness, in which, too, a
sarcastic allusion was made to "the bringing
up of English gentlemen who were accustomed
to the ordinary delicacies of the table." The
document was written out on a large deed-shaped
piece of paper (formed by gumming several
sheets of foolscap together), and was beautifully
engrossed by the most accomplished penman of
our society. At another meeting, called in the
billiard-room, it was duly signed. But there
were recusants. Our man of the world came out
wonderfully on this head, saying, "By all means
let Jackson stand alone, if he wished. He (Linton)
wished this to be a free act; in that lay all
its moral force. There were others who had
scruples too; but we had all wished to be in the
same boat, like gentlemen. I make it a point now
that this shall make no difference in our dealings
with Jackson." (How noble!) Jackson could
not hold out any longer, and signed. A
deputation was "told off" to present the memorial,
of which I was one. The Head of the House, it
was known, would only receive complaints
through the proper officer—his deputy and our
professor. With a boldness that bordered on