The Relics of General Chasse: A Tale of Antwerp

by Anthony Trollope

that this portion of thebuilding was left desolate, and that the experiment might be safely made.So the sportive rector declared that he would for a short time wear theregimentals which had once contained the valorous heart of GeneralChassé.

  With all decorum the Rev. Mr. Horne divested himself of the work of theLondon artist’s needle, and, carefully placing his own garments beyondthe reach of dust, essayed to fit himself in military garb.

  At that important moment—at the critical instant of the attempt—theclatter of female voices was heard approaching the chamber. They musthave suddenly come round some passage corner, for it was evident by thesound that they were close upon us before we had any warning of theiradvent. At this very minute Mr. Horne was somewhat embarrassed in hisattempts, and was not fully in possession of his usual active powers ofmovement, nor of his usual presence of mind. He only looked for escape;and seeing a door partly open, he with difficulty retreated through it,and I followed him. We found that we were in a small dressing-room; andas by good luck the door was defended by an inner bolt, my friend wasable to protect himself.

  “There shall be another siege, at any rate as stout as the last, before Isurrender,” said he.

  As the ladies seemed inclined to linger in the room it became a matter ofimportance that the above-named articles should fit, not only forornament but for use. It was very cold, and Mr. Horne was altogetherunused to move in a Highland sphere of life. But alas, alas! GeneralChassé had not been nurtured in the classical retirement of Ollerton.The ungiving leather would stretch no point to accommodate the divine,though it had been willing to minister to the convenience of the soldier.Mr. Horne was vexed and chilled; and throwing the now hateful garmentsinto a corner, and protecting himself from the cold as best he might bystanding with his knees together and his body somewhat bent so as to givethe skirts of his coat an opportunity of doing extra duty, he begged meto see if those jabbering females were not going to leave him in peace torecover his own property. I accordingly went to the door, and opening itto a small extent I peeped through.

  Who shall describe my horror at the sight which I then saw? The scene,which had hitherto been tinted with comic effect, was now becoming sodecidedly tragic that I did not dare at once to acquaint my worthy pastorwith that which was occurring,—and, alas! had already occurred.

  Five country-women of our own—it was easy to know them by their dress andgeneral aspect—were standing in the middle of the room; and one of them,the centre of the group, the senior harpy of the lot, a maiden lady—Icould have sworn to that—with a red nose, held in one hand a huge pair ofscissors, and in the other—the already devoted goods of my mostunfortunate companion! Down from the waistband, through that goodlyexpanse, a fell gash had already gone through and through; and inuseless, unbecoming disorder the broadcloth fell pendant from her arm onthis side and on that. At that moment I confess that I had not thecourage to speak to Mr. Horne,—not even to look at him.

  I must describe that group. Of the figure next to me I could only seethe back. It was a broad back done up in black silk not of the newest.The whole figure, one may say, was dumpy. The black silk was not long,as dresses now are worn, nor wide in its skirts. In every way it wasskimpy, considering the breadth it had to cover; and below the silk I sawthe heels of two thick shoes, and enough to swear by of two woollenstockings. Above the silk was a red and blue shawl; and above that aponderous, elaborate brown bonnet, as to the materials of which I shouldnot wish to undergo an examination. Over and beyond this I could onlysee the backs of her two hands. They were held up as though in wonder atthat which the red-nosed holder of the scissors had dared to do.

  Opposite to this lady, and with her face fully tamed to me, was akindly-looking, fat motherly woman, with light-coloured hair, not in thebest order. She was hot and scarlet with exercise, being perhaps toostout for the steep steps of the fortress; and in one hand she held ahandkerchief, with which from time to time she wiped her brow. In theother hand she held one of the extremities of my friend’s property,feeling—good, careful soul!—what was the texture of the cloth. As shedid so, I could see a glance of approbation pass across her warmfeatures. I liked that lady’s face, in spite of her untidy hair, andfelt that had she been alone my friend would not have been injured.

  On either side of her there stood a flaxen-haired maiden, with longcurls, large blue eyes, fresh red cheeks, an undefined lumpy nose, andlarge good-humoured mouth. They were as like as two peas, only that onewas half an inch taller than the other; and there was no difficulty indiscovering, at a moment’s glance, that they were the children of thatover-heated matron who was feeling the web of my friend’s cloth.

  But the principal figure was she who held the centre place in the group.She was tall and thin, with fierce-looking eyes, rendered more fierce bythe spectacles which she wore; with a red nose as I said before; andabout her an undescribable something which quite convinced me that shehad never known—could never know—aught of the comforts of married life.It was she who held the scissors and the black garments. It was she whohad given that unkind cut. As I looked at her she whisked herselfquickly round from one companion to the other, triumphing in what she haddone, and ready to triumph further in what she was about to do. Iimmediately conceived a deep hatred for that Queen of the Harpies.

  “Well, I suppose they can’t be wanted again,” said the mother, rubbingher forehead.

  “Oh dear no!” said she of the red nose. “They are relics!” I thought toleap forth; but for what purpose should I have leaped? The accursedscissors had already done their work; and the symmetry, nay, even theutility of the vestment was destroyed.

  “General Chassé wore a very good article;—I will say that for him,”continued the mother.

  “Of course he did!” said the Queen Harpy. “Why should he not, seeingthat the country paid for it for him? Well, ladies, who’s for having abit?”

  “Oh my! you won’t go for to cut them up,” said the stout back.

  “Won’t I,” said the scissors; and she immediately made another incision.“Who’s for having a bit? Don’t all speak at once.”

  “I should like a morsel for a pincushion,” said flaxen-haired Miss No. 1,a young lady about nineteen, actuated by a general affection for allsword-bearing, fire-eating heroes. “I should like to have something tomake me think of the poor general!”

  Snip, snip went the scissors with professional rapidity, and a roundpiece was extracted from the back of the calf of the left leg. Ishuddered with horror; and so did the Rev. Augustus Horne with cold.

  “I hardly think it’s proper to cut them up,” said Miss No. 2.

  “Oh isn’t it?” said the harpy. “Then I’ll do what’s improper!” And shegot her finger and thumb well through the holes in the scissors’ handles.As she spoke resolution was plainly marked on her brow.

  “Well, if they are to be cut up, I should certainly like a bit for apen-wiper,” said No. 2. No. 2 was a literary young lady with aperiodical correspondence, a journal, and an album. Snip, snip went thescissors again, and the broad part of the upper right division affordedample materials for a pen-wiper.

  Then the lady with the back, seeing that the desecration of the articlehad been completed, plucked up heart of courage and put in her littlerequest; “I think I might have a needle-case out of it,” said she, “justas a suvneer of the poor general”—and a long fragment cut rapidly out ofthe waistband afforded her unqualified delight.

  Mamma, with the hot face and untidy hair, came next. “Well, girls,” shesaid, “as you are all served, I don’t see why I’m to be left out.Perhaps, Miss Grogram”—she was an old maid, you see—“perhaps, MissGrogram, you could get me as much as would make a decent-sized reticule.”

  There was not the slightest difficulty in doing this. The harpy in thecentre again went to work, snip, snip, and extracting from that portionof the affairs which usually sustained the greater portion of Mr. Horne’sweight two large round pieces of cloth, present
ed them to thewell-pleased matron. “The general knew well where to get a bit of goodbroadcloth, certainly,” said she, again feeling the pieces.

  “And now for No. 1,” said she whom I so absolutely hated; “I think thereis still enough for a pair of slippers. There’s nothing so nice for thehouse as good black cloth slippers that are warm to the feet and don’tshow the dirt.” And so saying, she spread out on the floor the laceratedremainders.

  “There’s a nice bit there,” said young lady No. 2, poking at one of thepockets with the end of her parasol.

  “Yes,” said the harpy, contemplating her plunder. “But I’m thinkingwhether I couldn’t get leggings as well. I always wear leggings in thethick of the winter.” And so she concluded her operations, and there wasnothing left but a melancholy skeleton of seams and buttons.

  All this having been achieved, they pocketed their plunder and preparedto depart. There are people who have a wonderful appetite for relics. Astone with which Washington had broken a window when a boy—with which hehad done so or