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Froude quotes with approval, as well he might, the words of Campian's admiring biographer Richard Simpson, himself a Catholic, a most learned and accomplished man.
And thereupon a long conversation began between the two, who had been sent together, after the wise method of their order, in obedience to the precept, "Two are better than one," in order that Campian might restrain Parsons' vehemence, and Parsons spur on Campian's gentleness, and so each act as the supplement of the other, and each also, it must be confessed, gave advice pretty nearly contradictory to his fellow's if occasion should require, "without the danger," as their writers have it, "of seeming changeable and inconsistent."
Who being as good a Latiner as Campian's self, and overhearing both the scraps of psalm and the "barbarous islanders," pushed his horse alongside of Mr. Eustace Leigh, and at the first check said, with two low bows towards the two strangers "I hope Mr. Leigh will do me the honor of introducing me to his guests. I should be sorry, and Mr.
Campian, "though we admire it for different reasons. Although a Roman, I am not a Roman Catholic; and Colonel Campian's views on Italian affairs generally would, I fear, not entirely agree with Lord St. Jerome's." "Naturally," said Lady St.
The talk was of Oxford, and was at first chiefly maintained by the colonel and the professor. "And do you share Colonel Campian's feeling about Old England?" inquired Lothair of his hostess. "The present interests me more than the past," said the lady, "and the future more than the present." "The present seems to me as unintelligible as the future," said Lothair.
At last he was bold enough to open the door of his own box and go forth, but he could find no attendant, and some persons passing his open door, and nearly appropriating his lodge, in a fit of that nervous embarrassment which attends inexperience in little things, he secured his rights by returning baffled to his post. There had been a change in Mrs. Campian's box in the interval.
There were rival prima-donnas, and they indulged in competitive screams; the choruses were coarse, and the orchestra much too noisy. But the audience were absorbed or enthusiastic. We may be a musical nation, but our taste would seem to require some refinement. There was a stir in Mrs. Campian's box: a gentleman entered and seated himself. Lothair concluded he was an invited guest, and envied him.
He opened the door of his box with firmness, and slammed it with courage; he had quite lost his shyness, was indeed ready to run a muck with any one who crossed him. The slamming of the door summoned a scudding attendant from a distant post, who with breathless devotion inquired whether Lothair wanted any thing. "Yes, I want you to show me the way to Mrs. Campian's box."
"Take that, for your Lamys and Gorgons to an honest woman!" and in a moment poor Campian's thin legs were cut from under him, while the virago, "mounting on his trunk astride," like that more famous one on Hudibras, cried, "Ten nobles, or I'll kep ye here till morning!" And the ten nobles were paid into her hand.
She was leaning over the bed of one who had been cut down in the olive-wood by a sabre of Campian's force, when a peal of artillery was heard. She thought that her hour had arrived, and the assault had commenced. "Most holy Mary!" she exclaimed, "sustain me." There was another peal, and it was repeated, and again and again at regular intervals.
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