The Autobiography of Satan

PADDY TOO CLEVER FOR SATAN.

367

up your drink and do your duty to your family; then the Church will stand by you, and all may yet be well.'

"Time rolled rapidly on. Paddy, reformed in character, Idid well in business. His family also increased.

“But the fatal day came. The last hour of the twenty years found the Hermit of Pendle and Paddy's wife on their knees in prayer in an inner room; while the husband, with his courage oozing out at his finger ends, waited in his shop, armed with a missal and holy water, the arrival of the Foul Fiend.' He came; and, shewing Paddy the bond, curtly said, 'Come with me.' 'Your worship!' the terror-stricken man said, 'don't be hard with a poor fellow like me; remember you did not use me well in the matter of those wishes, not one of which did me any good.' 'Well, as you're but a poor simpleton, I give you another wish; turn it to account for the good of your family. The shop-door was open, and that moment Paddy saw a horse grazing in a meadow a short distance from the house. 'Thank your lordship a thousand times for your goodness. I wish that you were riding on that horse back to the place from which you've come.'

"The demon uttered a yell that was heard as far as Colne. The bond dropped from his hands. He leaped on the horse, and was carried away with the swiftness of the whirlwind.

"Having thus got rid of his troublesome creditor, Paddy, under the Hermit's aid and direction, led a sober life, made a little money, took this inn, and put up the sign which drew your attention. The house flourished; for from all parts of Lancashire persons came to see the only man who had fairly outwitted the devil."

The narrator of the story shook his sides heartily with laughing at what he called "a capital trick." I confess his words had not relieved my melancholy.

"And so," I said to myself, "it has come to this! I, who was first an archangel and then the Prince of Darkness, am now the object of sarcasm in village tap-rooms! My end is near !"

368

SATAN AND TIM BOBBIN.

Little pleased with a spot where I had suffered so deep a humiliation, I winged my way to Rochdale ;—why, I hardly know, except that change of locality was relief of mind. Arrived there, I went in the evening for a walk through its not very elegant streets. Coming to a book-stall, I stopped and ran my eye over its dingy treasures. It fell on an engraved portrait of Tim Bobbin, who, from certain symbols at the bottom of the picture, I found to be a quizzical son of the brush. I took the volume into my hand, and, running through its contents, came near the end on these words: "To Mr. Robert Gordon

in Salford,

With the Picture of the Devil on Horseback."

Well! thought I; this looks very like Paddy's tale over again. I'll read it. It ran thus:

"Milnrow, April 8th, 1760. "Sir,—When I began to form the design of old Belzee on horseback, which you and your Newcastle friend ordered, I repented I had not inquired what sort of a devil you would have; i. e. whether you would have a black or a red devil, as white, green, yellow or blue, according to all authors, are out of the question; and also what colour of a horse; and whether if he rid on a mare, it would not do as well. But these necessary queries being unfortunately neglected, I have been obliged to guess at the whole, and have now finished the piece, presuming you'll not be so ungenerous as to turn it on my hands, because I believe it will suit no other person alive but your whimsical friend.

"If we can believe most authors, ancient and modern, clergy and laity, there are many legions of these awkward spirits, some of which go about and roar like lions; yet, though there are such incredible numbers and yell so loud, you cannot imagine how I stood staring with the chalk in my hand, being quite nonplused when I began to hunt for an idea, as having never seen the least glimpse of any one of them.

TIM BOBBIN'S DEVIL ON HORSEBACK.

369

But remembering that old Lucifer might be a child of some man's fancy in times of yore, I did not long hesitate, but thought I had as good authority as any other mortal to make a devil of my own.

"So I fell to it, and drew out my design, which pleased me tolerably well.

"But, alas! when I came to the colouring part, I was entirely gravelled, not knowing what colour to make his galloper. Here I had thoughts of annihilating my whole design, and giving up all thoughts of proceeding; but suddenly recollecting that I had heard old folks talk of 'The Devil upon Dun,' I gave a jump, as thinking I had cleared the most knotty point; but, alas! two circumstances soon quashed this sudden joy. One was, whether this dun must be a horse or a mare, or a gelding; and the other, whether it must be a fat or a lean nag. But not remembering any author that had ever wrote on these abstruse points, I resolved to guess at them; and accordingly have not only made him a dun, but a sprightly, able, dun horse; because it is agreed on all sides that he goes with surprising expedition, especially when employed by court ladies in their gallantries, their husbands in amours, or ministers of state in all treaties which tend to faith-breaking, leaving their allies in a quagmire, or robbing, ruining or seizing their neighbours' territories :-and so much for the horse.

“As for the devil, his jockey, of whom I hinted before that I could not tell whether to make him ride in red or black, have taken a method to obviate all objections, and made him ride in both. In short, he has the horns of a Scotch bullock in his head; a dragon's tail; a negro's hands and face; a lady's scarlet capuchin on his head and shoulders; a rake's ruffles; a parson's coat; a beau's breeches; a tailor's gamashes; a jockey's whip; and a lawyer's saddle. So if this horse and this jockey will not please your fantastical friend, you may tell him when you write to him that I'll never pre

370

SATAN OVERCOME BY RAILLERY.

tend to paint a spirit again whilst I remain (as I hope I ever shall), "Sir, your most, &c.,

"TIM BOBBIN."

This subtle raillery finished my resolution. In retiring from business, I must relieve my character of one stain thrown on it by Mr. Bobbin. I confess that I have worn the several liveries he has dressed me in; but for what he says as to treaty-mongers-no! I have never sunk so low as that; not but I might have done, had I been tempted by certain great diplomatists of this my dying hour, who have lately been busy in "robbing, ruining and seizing their neighbours' territories" but, in truth, they had no need of my aid, being fully equal of themselves to their atrocious plunderings and brutal devastations.

The freedoms taken with me by the last-mentioned writer and artist are far surpassed by a devotee of the quill and the brush of very recent days. I have fallen into the hands of George Cruikshank and his sarcastic playfellows. By them I am stript of my majesty, and held up us a laughing-stock to the world. I am, however, greatly indebted to them, for they write and paint in such a way as to throw my mortality into fullest and sharpest relief. Whoever peruses "The Real Devil's Walk," "The Devil's Visit," "Old Booty," &c.,* can no longer doubt that thousands and tens of thousands in the highest walks of life present my character and, in a measure, my form, with all its human failings and few of its human virtues, before the eyes of the world every passing day. Indeed, these my humanities, as I may term them, are so truly Satanical in the bad sense of the word, that I have been smitten with the fear whether, after all, I can lay down my sceptre to any good effect, so long as there are so many prepared to take it up and sway it perhaps more tyranically than I have done myself.

* London: Kidd, 6, Old Bond Street, 1830, 1831. Illustrations of Burns' "Address to the De'il;" "Gentleman in Black."

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