Transcribed from the 1864 Chapman and Hall “Tales of AllCountries” edition , email
That Belgium is now one of theEuropean kingdoms, living by its own laws, resting on its ownbottom, with a king and court, palaces and parliament of its own,is known to all the world. And a very nice little kingdomit is; full of old towns, fine Flemish pictures, and interestingGothic churches. But in the memory of very many of us whodo not think ourselves old men, Belgium, as it is nowcalled—in those days it used to be Flanders andBrabant—was a part of Holland; and it obtained its ownindependence by a revolution. In that revolution the mostimportant military step was the siege of Antwerp, which wasdefended on the part of the Dutch by General Chassé, withthe utmost gallantry, but nevertheless ineffectually.
After the siege Antwerp became quite a show place; and amongthe visitors who flocked there to talk of the gallant general,and to see what remained of the great effort which he had made todefend the place, were two Englishmen. One was the hero ofthis little history; and the other was a young man ofconsiderably less weight in the world. The less I say ofthe latter the better; but it is necessary that I should givesome description of the former.
The Rev. Augustus Horne was, at the time of my narrative, abeneficed clergyman of the Church of England. Theprofession which he had graced sat easily on him. Itsexternal marks and signs were as pleasing to his friends as wereits internal comforts to himself. He was a man of muchquiet mirth, full of polished wit, and on some rare occasions hecould descend to the more noisy hilarity of a joke. Lovedby his friends he loved all the world. He had known no careand seen no sorrow. Always intended for holy orders he hadentered them without a scruple, and remained within their palewithout a regret. At twenty-four he had been a deacon, attwenty-seven a priest, at thirty a rector, and at thirty-five aprebendary; and as his rectory was rich and his prebendal stallwell paid, the Rev. Augustus Horne was called by all, and calledhimself, a happy man. His stature was about six feet two,and his corpulence exceeded even those bounds which symmetrywould have preferred as being most perfectly compatible even withsuch a height. But nevertheless Mr. Horne was a well-mademan; his hands and feet were small; his face was handsome, frank,and full of expression; his bright eyes twinkled with humour; hisfinely-cut mouth disclosed two marvellous rows of well-preservedivory; and his slightly aquiline nose was just such a projectionas one would wish to see on the face of a well-fed good-natureddignitary of the Church of England. When I add to all thisthat the reverend gentleman was as generous as he wasrich—and the kind mother in whose arms he had been nurturedhad taken care that he should never want—I need hardly saythat I was blessed with a very pleasant travelling companion.
I must mention one more interesting particular. Mr. Horne wasrather inclined to dandyism, in an innocent way. Hisclerical starched neckcloth was always of the whitest, hiscambric handkerchief of the finest, his bands adorned with thebroadest border; his sable suit never degenerated to a rustybrown; it not only gave on all occasions glossy evidence offreshness, but also of the talent which the artisan had displayedin turning out a well-dressed clergyman of the Church ofEngland. His hair was ever brushed with scrupulousattention, and showed in its regular waves the guardian care ofeach separate bristle. And all this was done with that easeand grace which should be the characteristics of a dignitary ofthe established English Church.
I had accompanied Mr. Hor