 | THE ADVENTURE
OF
THE POPKINS FAMILY. Tales of a traveller |  |
THE ADVENTURE
OF
THE POPKINS FAMILY.
It was but a few days before that the carriage
of Alderman Popkins had driven up to the inn
of Terracina. Those who have seen an English
family carriage on the continent, must know the
sensation it produces. It is an epitome of England;
a little morsel of the old island rolling
about the world—every thing so compact, so
snug, so finished and fitting. The wheels that
roll on patent axles without rattling; the body
that hangs so well on its springs, yielding to
every motion, yet proof against every shock.
The ruddy faces gaping out of the windows;
sometimes, of a portly old citizen, sometimes of
fresh hoyden, just from boarding school. And
then the dickeys loaded with well-dressed servants,
beef fed and bluff; looking down from their
heights with contempt on all the world around;
profoundly ignorant of the country and the people,
and devoutly certain that every thing not English
must be wrong.
Such was the carriage of Alderman Popkins,
as it made its appearance at Terracina. The
courier who had preceded it, to order horses, and
who was a Neapolitan, had given a magnificent
account of the riches and greatness of his
master, blundering with all an Italian's splendour
of imagination about the alderman's titles
and dignities; the host had added his usual share
of exaggeration, so that by the time the alderman
drove up to the door, he was Milor—Magnifico
—Principe—the Lord knows what!
The alderman was advised to take an escort
to Fondi and Itri, but he refused. It was as
much as a man's life was worth, he said, to stop
him on the king's highway; he would complain
make a national affair of it. The principezza
Popkins, a fresh, motherly dame, seemed perfectly
secure in the protection of her husband, so omnipotent
a man in the city. The signorini Popkins,
two fine bouncing girls looked to their brother
Tom, who had taken lessons in boxing;
and as to the dandy himself, he was sure no scaramouch
of an Italian robber would dare to meddle
with an Englishman. The landlord shrugged
his shoulders and turned out the palms of
his hands with a true Italian grimace, and the
carriage of Milor Popkins rolled on.
They passed through several very suspicious
places without any molestation. The Misses Popkins,
who were very romantic, and had learnt to
draw in water colours, were enchanted with the
savage scenery around; it was so like what they
had read in Mrs. Radcliffe's romances, they
should like of all things to make sketches At
length, the carriage arrived at a place where the
road wound up a long hill. Mrs. Popkins had
sunk into a sleep; the young ladies were reading
Byron, and the dandy was hectoring the postilions
from the coach box. The alderman got
out, as he said, to stretch his legs up the hill.
It was a long winding ascent, and obliged him
every now and then to stop and blow and wipe
his forehead with many a pish! and phew!
being rather pursy and short of wind. As the
carriage, however, was far behind him, and toiling
slowly under the weight of so many well
stuffed trunks and well stuffed travellers, he had
plenty of time to walk at leisure.
On a jutting point of rock that overhung the
road nearly at the summit of the hill, just where
the route began again to descend, he saw a solitary
man seated, who appeared to be tending
goats. Alderman Popkins was one of your
shrewd travellers that always like to be picking
up small information along the road, so he thought
he'd just scramble up to the honest man, and have
a little talk with him by way of learning the
news and getting a lesson in Italian. As he drew
near to the peasant he did not half like his looks.
in the usual long mantle, which, with his slouched
hat, only left a part of a swarthy visage, with
a keen black eye, a beetle brow and a fierce moustache
to be seen. He had whistled several
times to his dog which was roving about the side
of the hill. As the alderman approached he
rose and greeted him. When standing erect he
seemed almost gigantic, at least in the eyes of
Alderman Popkins; who, however, being a short
man, might be deceived.
The latter would gladly now have been back
in the carriage, or even on 'change in London,
for he was by no means well pleased with his
company. However, he determined to put the
best face on matters, and was beginning a conversation
about the state of the weather, the
baddishness of the crops and the price of goats
in that part of the country, when he heard a
violent screaming. He ran to the edge of the
rock, and, looking over, saw away down the road
his carriage surrounded by robbers. One held
down the fat footman, another had the dandy by
one was rummaging a portmanteau, another rummaging
the principezza's pockets, while the two
Misses Popkins were screaming from each window
of the carriage, and their waiting maid
squalling from the dickey.
Alderman Popkins felt all the fury of the parent
and the magistrate roused within him. He grasped
his cane and was on the point of scrambling
down the rocks, either to assault the robbers or
to read the riot act, when he was suddenly grasped
by the arm. It was by his friend the goatherd,
whose cloak, falling partly off, discovered a belt
stuck full of pistols and stilettos. In short, he
found himself in the clutches of the captain of
the band, who had stationed himself on the rock
to look out for travellers and to give notice to
his men.
A sad ransacking took place. Trunks were
turned inside out, and all the finery and the frippery
of the Popkins family scattered about the
road. Such a chaos of Venice beads and Roman
mosaics; and Paris bonnets of the young
and lamb's wool stockings, and the dandy's hair
brushes, stays, and starched cravats.
The gentlemen were eased of their purses and
their watches; the ladies of their jewels, and the
whole party were on the point of being carried
up into the mountain, when fortunately the appearance
of soldiery at a distance obliged the
robbers to make off with the spoils they had secured,
and leave the Popkins family to gather together
the remnants of their effects, and make the
best of their way to Fondi.
When safe arrived, the alderman made a terrible
blustering at the inn; threatened to complain
to the ambassador at Naples, and was ready to
shake his cane at the whole country. The dandy
had many stories to tell of his scuffles with
the brigands, who overpowered him merely by
numbers. As to the Misses Popkins, they were
quite delighted with the adventure, and were occupied
the whole evening in writing it in their
journals. They declared the captain of the band
to be a most romantic looking man; they dared to
and several of the band to be very handsome
young men—“quite picturesque!”
“In verity,” said mine host of Terracina,
“they say the captain of the band is un galant
uomo.”
“A gallant man!” said the Englishman. “I'd
have your gallant man hang'd like a dog!”
“To dare to meddle with Englishmen!” said
Mr. Hobbs.
“And such a family as the Popkinses!” said
Mr. Dobbs.
“They ought to come upon the county for
damages!” said Mr. Hobbs.
“Our ambassador should make a complaint
to the government of Naples,” said Mr. Dobbs.
“They should be requested to drive these rascals
out of the country,” said Hobbs.
“If they did not, we should declare war against
them!” said Dobbs.
The Englishman was a little wearied by this
story, and by the ultra zeal of his countrymen,
and was glad when a summons to their supper
walked out with his Venetian friends and a young
Frenchman of an interesting demeanour, who had
become sociable with them in the course of the
conversation. They directed their steps toward
the sea, which was lit up by the rising moon.
The Venetian, out of politeness, left his beautiful
wife to be escorted by the Englishman. The
latter, however, either from shyness or reserve,
did not avail himself of the civility, but walked
on without offering his arm. The fair Venetian,
with all her devotion to her husband, was a little
nettled at a want of gallantry to which her charms
had rendered her unaccustomed, and took the
profered arm of the Frenchman with a pretty
air of pique, which, however, was entirely lost
upon the phlegmatic delinquent.
Not far distant from the inn they came to
where there was a body of soldiers on the beach,
encircling and guarding a number of galley slaves,
who were permitted to refresh themselves in the
evening breeze, and to sport and roll upon the
sand.
“It was difficult,” the Frenchman observed,
“to conceive a more frightful mass of crime than
was here collected. The parricide, the fratricide,
the infanticide, who had first fled from justice
and turned mountain bandit, and then, by
betraying his brother desperadoes, had bought a
commutation of punishment, and the privilege of
wallowing on the shore for an hour a day, with
this wretched crew of miscreants!”
The remark of the Frenchman had a strong
effect upon the company, particularly upon the
Venetian lady, who shuddered as she cast a timid
look at this horde of wretches at their evening
relaxation. “They seemed,” she said, “like so
many serpents, wreathing and twisting together.”
The Frenchman now adverted to the stories
they had been listening to at the inn, adding, that
if they had any farther curiosity on the subject,
he could recount an adventure which happened
to himself among the robbers, and which might
give them some idea of the habits and manners
of those beings. There was an air of modesty
and frankness about the Frenchman which had
excepting the Englishman. They all gladly accepted
his proposition; and as they strolled slowly
up and down the sea shore, he related the
following adventure.
| THE ADVENTURE
OF
THE POPKINS FAMILY. Tales of a traveller | |