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Updated: June 28, 2025
"There was a boy and a girl Francis and Jessamy. They died, both, in a bad epidemic of typhoid here, five years ago. Francis was five, Jessamy four. 'The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. It was hard losing both of them. They got ill together and died on the same day." He puffed furiously at his pipe. "Mrs. Trenchard keeps the nursery just the same as it used to be.
Dante did not more love his Beatrice, Swift his Stella, Waller his Saccharissa, Goldsmith his Jessamy bride, or Burns his Mary, than did Jerome his Clotelle. Unknown to her father, Miss Wilson could permit these two slaves to enjoy more privileges than any of the other servants.
At this she glanced swiftly at me without lifting her head and in her eyes was an indescribable kindliness and her vivid lips were curved to smile so tender that I stared in joyful bewilderment and forgot all else in the world until roused by the Tinker's voice: "And exactly what o'clock might it be by your chronometer, Jessamy?" "Precisely fifteen minutes an' three quarters past seven, brother."
But when at last she was gone and I alone in the soft luxury of this chamber, desolation filled me and I yearned bitterly for the discomforts of the little camp within the copse; the rustle of leaves, the soft, murmurous gurgle of the brook, the winking stars overhead; for Jeremy, and Jessamy Todd and my loved Diana.
Tom came; with a rush that it seemed nothing might withstand, he hurled himself upon that quiet figure, mighty shoulders hunched, huge body quivering, eager for the fray; ensued a quick, brief trample of feet, the swift play of merciless arms, of mighty fists that smote the air, and then I saw the upward flash of Jessamy's left, heard the impact of a dreadful blow, and as Tom's head and shoulders jerked violently up, I saw the flash of Jessamy's right and the great body of his assailant, rocked and shaken by these two unerring, terrible blows, shrank horribly upon itself, rolled a limp and twisted heap in the dust, and lay still, with Jessamy poised above him, his kindly features transfigured with a wild and terrible joy.
"One for our Tinker and one for Jessamy," I explained. "Foolishness!" she exclaimed. "Indeed, madam?" "It's wicked waste o' money an' don't call me 'madam'!" "I suppose I may be permitted to spend my money to please myself, girl?" "I s'pose so, boy! Easy come, easy go! You can get more any time ye want, just for the askin', can't you?
"Then you don't want to hear about the chest o' drawers?" interrupted Zeb in dudgeon, with a glance at Ruby, who pretended not to see it. "Well, no. To tell 'ee the slap-bang truth, I don't care if I see no trace of 'ee till the dancin' begins to commence to-night." "Then good-day t' ye, friends," answered Young Zeb, and turned the mare. "Cl'k, Jessamy!" He rattled away down the lane.
All this is recorded by the beautiful Mary Horneck, the Jessamy Bride herself; but while she gives these amusing pictures of poor Goldsmith's eccentricities, and of the mischievous pranks played off upon him, she bears unqualified testimony, which we have quoted elsewhere, to the qualities of his head and heart, which shone forth, in his countenance, and gained him the love of all who knew him.
Trueworth, Lord Huntley, Miss Wingman, and other Georgian fashionables that filled the pages of "Betsy Thoughtless" and "Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy" we are transported again to the pale company of Celadon, Alinda, Placentia, Adario, Melanthe. A framework analogous to that in Le Sage's "Le Diable Boiteux" takes the place of a plot.
I wish, though I don't see it in life, that people could be like Jenny and Jessamy, or my lord and lady Clementina in the storybook and fashionable novels, and at once under the ceremony, and, as it were, at the parson's benediction, become perfectly handsome and good and happy ever after." You wicked, satirical creature, I can't abide you!
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