1830.] [ 261 ] 



THE FOUETEENTH ; OR, THE UGLY MAN. 



BEFORE I enter upon my explanation of the riddle which I have 

 just written " The Fourteenth" it is necessary that I should introduce 

 myself to the reader " in my habit as I live." 



It is the practice of writers who describe themselves to begin by 

 saying " I am five-and-twenty years of age. My manners are amiable, 

 my address fascinating. My person is well-formed, and my features, 

 though not handsome, are interesting. They are capable at times of an 

 expression that is considered fine indicating purity of mind, firmness of 

 character, and sweetness of disposition/' This at least is the style of 

 those very old, or very young gentlemen, who offer themselves in the 

 "Morning Herald," on such eligible terms, as sacrifices to rich widows and 

 wards in Chancery. I am sorry that I cannot conscientiously adopt 

 this style myself a hero, in these days, being nothing if not handsome. 

 But I must admit at once, in plain language, without shame or equivoca- 

 tion, that I am what the world calls and particularly the female part of 

 it confoundedly ugly ! There is not a feature in my face where it 

 ought to be. I look as if I had just walked out of " Der Freischiitz." 

 You would fancy that I had been, not created, but guessed at or that I 

 had been made by mistake. I have been accused of picking up my 

 countenance at a masquerade; and it has been stated that Mr. Farley 

 invented me for a pantomime. People are surprised that they do not 

 see a line of italics upon my forehead " drawn and etched by George 

 Cruikshank." Listen has frequently expressed his admiration of my 

 ugliness, and regards we with a kind of envious enthusiasm. I was 

 once obliged to fight a duel with a friend, only for looking at his little 

 girl, whose imagination had been excited by reading the history of an 

 ogre ; and was, a short time ago, cast in an action preferred against me 

 for stopping to admire a horse, that happened at the same moment to 

 take fright. I am a particular favourite with the author of " Franken- 

 stein," who thinks me philosophically frightful : I sate to her for the 

 Monster. I have seen people stare at me, as if they wondered how I 

 escaped from St. George, or wished to know when I was last at Wantley. 

 Frequently have I been puzzled to think how Narcissus could fall in love 

 with himself: the thing seems to me impossible. When I have surveyed 

 my face in a glass, I have been rather alarmed lest, instead of passing a 

 pocket, I should put my hand into it. How sorry I have sometimes 

 been, when, calling upon a friend, I have seen all the little children, as 

 they stole a glance at me on my entrance, prefer going to bed to the 

 proffered privilege of a game at forfeits ! Shakspeare must have seen 

 me in a vision when he drew Caliban ; Spencer also has very nearly 

 described me in several places. One day or other, I shall be taken 

 up for a triton that has strayed from its pedestal in a gentleman's pond. 

 I should make a capital study for a knocker : Mr. Nash wishes to take 

 a cast of my face for that purpose. It is not long ago since mine host of 

 the Saracen's Head" offered me a share in the concern, on condition 

 that I put up my portrait for the sign. He little suspected the impossi- 

 bility of painting it ; it would be easier to personify a chaos. Fuseli 

 could not have made me more frightful; nor could Lawrence have 

 extracted a grace from me even when the alchemy of his pencil found 

 gold in all things. No painter, therefore, has yet had the courage to sketch 

 me. Yes : as I stood the other day, looking at a Hercules and laughing at 



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