Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 435: Volume 17, New Series, May 1, 1852Various
History
Chambers's Edinburgh Journal, No. 435: Volume 17, New Series, May 1, 1852
Various
Periodicals
imposition, I told him to consider himself fortunate that he had got
that, which was more than such a rogue-_schurke_ was the word I
used--deserved.
'Do you call me a rogue?' said he.
'Certainly; a rogue is your right name,' I replied, and sprang into
the carriage.
'Ho! ho!' said he; 'that is against the law. Hans Felder,' he bawled
to the postilion, 'I charge you not to move; the horses may be led
back to the stable: the gracious gentleman has called me a rogue.
Stiefel, run for the police: the gracious gentleman says I am a rogue.
I will cite him before the council.'
It was in vain that I put my head out of the window, and bawled to the
postilion to proceed. He was evidently afraid to move. In a few
minutes a crowd began to collect around us, and in less than a quarter
of an hour half the inhabitants of the place had assembled in front of
the inn. The noise of a perfect Babel succeeded in an instant to the
dull silence of the quiet town. I soon gathered from the vehement
disputes that arose on all sides, that the populace were about equally
divided into two parties. The more reasonable portion were for
allowing us to proceed on our journey, and this would perhaps have
been permitted, had not my companion, on understanding what was the
matter, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and repeated the
offensive word, accompanying it with a declaration in French, which
many of the bystanders understood, that he considered it generally
applicable. The landlord of the inn now came forth, and after a not
very energetic attempt to conciliate the ostler, who refused to forego
his determination to obtain legal redress, invited us to alight and
resume our quarters in the inn. This we were compelled to do, to
escape the annoyance of the crowd; and the carriage being housed under
a shed, the horses returned to the stable. We had not been three
minutes in the inn before the police appeared to take me into custody,
and march me off to durance vile. By this time I began to see that the
charge, and the dilemma into which it had led us, was no joke. I might
perhaps have bribed the scoundrel who preferred it, and have sent away
the police with a gratuity; but I felt as little disposed to do that
as to go to prison. I refused to leave the inn, protested against the
jurisdiction of their absurd laws over strangers, and at length, with
the assistance of my companion, and a good deal of threatening talk,
succeeded in ejecting the two police functionaries from the room. They
kept watch, however, at the door, and planted sentinels at the
windows, to prevent an ignominious flight that way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account