Jephson

“ As a rule, the mention of Miss Medbury’s name brings a flush of joy to Jephson’s face; but now his features wore an expression distinctly approaching a scowl.
“Oh!” he replied, “did you? Well, then, the common-sensed girl loves the military also.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed MacShaughnassy, “what an extraordinary thing. What reason does she give?”
“That there’s a something about them, and that they dance so divinely,” answered Jephson, shortly.
“Well, you do surprise me,” murmured MacShaughnassy, “I am astonished.”
Then to me he said: “And what does the young married woman say? The same?” ”

“ Jephson was a small wiry man, crowned by a vast acreage of bald head, and with the immobile countenance sometimes lovingly known as a "poker face." One felt he could watch the rain pour in torrents on the dowager duchess, Courtney Giles' waist expand visibly before his eyes, the statue of Nelson totter and fall on his shopkeeper, and never move a muscle of that face.
"I am delighted to meet your lordship," said he to Harrowby. "Knew your father, the earl, very well at one time. Had business dealings with him—often. A man after my own heart. Always ready to take a risk. ”

“ Perhaps she is not so very plain. They are sure to meet, or Mrs. Nicholson will bring them together in her tactful way. She has not much time to lose if the girl’s glass ball yarn is true, and it may be true by a fluke. Jephson is rather bitten by a taste for all that “teleopathy” business, as the old Malaprop calls it. On the whole, I shall say no more to him, but let him play the game, if he goes to Walton, off his own bat.’
Presently Merton received a note from Jephson dated ‘The Perch, Walton-on-Dove.’ Jephson expressed his gratitude ”

“ But, O my fluttering breast!—'Tis Theodore!
How sad, and earnestly, he views that paper!
It turns him pale. Beshrew the envious paper!
Why should it steal the colour from that cheek,
Which danger ne'er could blanch? He sees me not.
I'll wait; and should sad thoughts disturb his quiet,
If love has power, with love's soft breath dispel them. ”

“ JEPHSON, ROBERT (1736–1803) , British dramatist, was born in Ireland. After serving for some years in the British army, he retired with the rank of captain, and lived in England, where he was the friend of Garrick, Reynolds, Goldsmith, Johnson, Burke, Burney and Charles Townshend. His appointment as master of the horse to the lord-lieutenant of Ireland took him back to Dublin. ”

“ We know that the late Miss Glasson entertained a very strong affection for Ralph Jephson, and always intended to make him her devisee and legatee—she had no power to dispose of her property except by will—but she was living with her nephew, George Ralph Jephson, and had been bedridden for some time. He kept away every other relative from his house. He took this place in Ireland, brought her hither, and it was not until the announcement of her death that her other relatives knew of her whereabouts. ”

“ Think all alike unjust, my Theodore,
When even thy Adelaide could join to wrong thee!
Jaq. Yet be advis'd——
Adel. Oh, leave me to my grief.—
To whom shall I complain? He but preserv'd
My life a little space, to make me feel
The extremes of joy and sorrow. Ere we met,
My heart was calm as the unconscious babe.
Enter Fabian.
Fab. Madam, my lord comes this way, and commands
To clear these chambers; what he meditates,
'Tis fit indeed were private. My old age
Has liv'd too long, to see my master's shame.
Adel. His shame, eternal shame! Oh, more than cruel!
How shall I smother it! ”

“ It's the other chaps I'm thinking about. You'll find it jolly hard to put Norris off, I'm afraid. He's most awfully sick about the match. He fielded badly, which always makes him shirty. Jephson, too. You'll have a bad time with Jephson. His one wish after the match was to have your gore and plenty of it. Nothing else would have pleased him a bit. And think of the chaps in the House, too. Just consider what a pull this gives Monk and his mob over you. The House'll want some looking after now, I fancy.'
'And they'll get it,' said Gethryn. ”

“ Ethelbertha replied that of course I knew what she meant. She said that she was not thinking of me, and that Jephson was, no doubt, sensible enough (Jephson is engaged) , but she did not see the object of bringing half the parish into it. (Nobody suggested bringing “half the parish” into it. Ethelbertha will talk so wildly.) To suppose that Brown and MacShaughnassy could be of any use whatever, she considered absurd. What could a couple of raw bachelors know about life and human nature? ”

“ Lord Harrowby, interrogated, was merely useless and frantic He couldn't raise a shilling. He couldn't offer a suggestion. "Dear old chap," he moaned, "I depend on you."
Three-thirty! Well, Thacker and Jephson had asked the impossible, that was all. Minot felt he had done his best. No man could do more. He was very sorry for Jephson, but—golden before him opened the possibility of Miss Cynthia Meyrick free to be wooed.
Yet he must be faithful to the last. At a quarter to four he read Jephson's cablegram again. ”

“ But, Oh my Edmund!—Thou remember'st, Fabian,
How blithe he went to seek the forest's sport!
Fab. 'Would I could not remember!
Count. That cursed barb,
(My fatal gift) that dash'd him down the cliff,
Seem'd proud of his gay burden.—Breathless, mangled,
They bore him back to me. Fond man! I hoped
This day, this happy match with Isabel
Had made our line perpetual; and, this day,
The unfruitful grave receives him. Yes, 'tis fate!
That dreadful denunciation 'gainst my house,
No prudence can avert, nor prayers can soften.
Fab. Think not on that; some visionary's dream. ”

“ From Godfrey's fearful claim?
Countess. Too well I know it;
A fearful claim indeed!
Aust. To-morrow's sun
Will see him at these gates; but trust my faith,
No violence shall reach you. The rash count
(Lost to himself) by force detains me here.
Vain is his force:—our holy sanctuary,
Whate'er betides, shall give your virtue shelter ”

“ Theod. Fairer than thee! Oh, heavens! the delicate hand
Of nature, in her daintiest mood, ne'er fashion'd
Beauty so rare. Love's roseate deity,
Fresh from his mother's kiss, breath'd o'er thy mould
[pg 47]
That soft, ambrosial hue,—Fairer than thee!
'Twere blasphemy in any tongue but thine,
So to disparage thy unmatch'd perfections.
Adel. No, Theodore, I dare not hear thee longer;
Perhaps, indeed, there is some fatal cause.
Theod. There is not, cannot be. 'Tis but his pride,
Stung by resentment 'gainst thy furious father—
Adel. ”

“ About two hours afterwards Gethryn discovered a suitable retort, but, coming to the conclusion that better late than never does not apply to repartees, refrained from speaking it.
It was Mr Jephson's usual custom to sally out after supper on Sunday evenings to smoke a pipe (or several pipes) with one of the other House-masters. On this particular evening he made for Robertson's, which was one of the four Houses on the opposite side of the School grounds. He could hardly have selected a better man to take his grievance to. ”

“ Why do you shake thus? Death! your bloodless cheeks
Send fear into me. You, sir, what's the matter?
2 Offi. We have found the lady.
Count. My good fellows, where?
1 Offi. Here, from this spot, you may yourself behold her;
Her face is towards the altar.
Count. [Looking out.] Blasts upon me!
Wither my eyes for ever!—Ay, 'tis she;
Austin with Theodore; he joins their hands:—
Destruction seize them! O dull, tardy fool!
My love, and my ambition, both defeated!
A marriage in my sight! Come forth! come forth!
[Draws a Dagger.
[pg 59]
Arise, grim Vengeance, and wash out my shame! ”

“ Oh, name not Heaven!
'Tis too profane abuse.
Count. Win her consent.
(I know thy sway is boundless o'er her will,)
Then join my hand to blooming Isabel.
Thus, will you do to all most worthy service;
[pg 29]
The curse, averted thus, shall pass from Narbonne;
My house again may flourish; and proud Godfrey,
Who now disputes, will ratify my title,
Pleas'd with the rich succession to his heirs.
Aust. Has passion drown'd all sense, all memory?
She was affianc'd to your son, young Edmund.
Count. She never lov'd my son. Our importunity
Won her consent, but not her heart, to Edmund. ”

“ By vile suspicions, suck'd from nature's dregs,
And the loose, ravings of distemper'd fancy.
Countess. Yet, Oh, decline this challenge!
Count. That, hereafter.
Mean time, prepare my daughter to receive
A husband of my choice. Should Godfrey come,
(Strife might be so prevented) bid her try
Her beauty's power. Stand thou but neuter, Fate!
Courage, and art, shall arm me from mankind.
[Exeunt.
[pg 19]
ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. A Chamber.
Enter Fabian and Jaqueline.
Fab. No, no, it cannot be. ”

“ Have you seen Mr. Hitchcock’s History of the Irish Stage? It is the first volume of a work commencing at the earliest and proceeding to the latest date of theatres in this kingdom. It is full of wretched blunders in facts, and stuffed with whole pages of follies in opinions.
I fancy Jephson is the only one of my acquaintance you have in London now. Pray give him my best compliments, and believe me, dear sir, most sincerely your servant and friend, J. P. Kemble. ”

“ John Jephson 1764–1826, preb. of Armagh) . b. 16 Dec. 1819; ed. at Trin. coll. Dublin, B.A. 1843; C. of Monewden, Suffolk 1853–6; C. of Hutton near Brentwood, Essex 1856–64; V. of Childerditch near Brentwood 1864; F.S.A. 24 May 1855; author of Narrative of a walking tour in Brittany 1859; Shakespere, his birthplace, home and grave 1864; edited the Literary Gazette early in 1858. d. Childerditch vicarage 1 Jany. 1865.
JEPHSON-NORREYS, Sir Charles Denham Orlando, 1 Baronet (son of lieut. col. Wm. Jephson of Egham, Surrey) . b. Englefield Green, Surrey 1799; ed. ”

“ But here I bid farewell to grief and fondness:
Let him go kneel, and sigh to Isabel:
And may he as obdurate find her heart,
As his has been to me.
Aust. Why, that's well said;—
'Tis better thus, than with consuming sorrow
To feed on your own life. Give anger scope:
Time, then, at length, will blunt this killing sense;
And peace, he ne'er must know again, be yours.
Countess. I was a woman, full of tenderness;
I am a woman, stung by injuries.
Narbonne was once my husband—my protector ”

“ They never dream of asking for wages. They’ll work eighteen hours a day, and put up with anything just to be allowed to stop.”
“A. B.” profited by this information, and engaged the girl who offered the five pounds premium. She found her a perfect treasure of a servant. She was invariably willing and respectful, slept on a sofa in the kitchen, and was always contented with an egg for her dinner.
The truth of this story I cannot vouch for. Myself, I can believe it. Brown and MacShaughnassy made no attempt to do so, which seemed unfriendly. Jephson excused himself on the plea of a headache. ”

“ His laborious efforts at the same time to achieve reputation as a poet, dramatist, and literary moralist failed signally. The pertinacity with which he wrote and printed contemptible tragedies, none of which were acted, and occasional verse, led to the publication of facetious satires, written mainly by Robert Jephson [q.v.] ”

“ Model'd that deed, which, barring Godfrey's right,
And other claims from kindred, nam'd Count Raymond
Lord of these fair possessions.
Count. Ha! I have it;
'Tis Godfrey's calumny; he has coin'd this lie;
And his late visit to the Holy Land,
No doubt, has furnish'd likelihood of proof,
To give his fiction colour.
Fab. Sure, 'tis so.
Count. He, too, has forg'd this idle prophecy,
(To shake me with false terrors) this prediction,
Which, but to think of, us'd to freeze my veins;
"That no descendant from my father's loins,
Should live to see a grandson ”

“ Yes, Adelaide, I go to fight for him:
Thy father, shall not fall ingloriously;
But, when he sees this arm strike at his foes,
Shall own, thy Theodore deserv'd his daughter.
[Exeunt.
[pg 50]
ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I. A Hall.
Enter Count, Fabian, Austin, Attendants with Prisoners.
Count. Hence to a dungeon with those mutinous slaves ”

“ Ere night, thy kinsman Godfrey, will be master
Of all thy story:—
He is brave, and just,
And will support thy claim. Should proof and reason
Fail with the usurper, thou must try thy sword
(And Heaven will strike for thee) in combat with him.
The conscious flash of this thy grandsire's mail,
Worse than the horrors of the fabled Gorgon,
That curdled blood to stone, will shrink his sinews,
And cast the wither'd boaster at thy feet.
Theod. Grant it ye powers! but not to shed his blood:
The father of my Adelaide, that name—
Aust. ”

“ Since now full seventeen years, the unfruitful curse
Has fallen upon Hortensia. Are these signs,
(Tremendous signs, that startle Nature's order!)
Graves casting up their sleepers, earth convuls'd,
Meteors that glare my children's timeless deaths,
Obscure to thee alone?—I have found the cause.
There is no crime our holy church abhors,
Not one high Heaven more strongly interdicts,
Than that commixture, by the marriage rite,
Of blood too near, as mine is to Hortensia.
Aust. Too near of blood! oh, specious mockery! ”

“ Hutton, Marion's maid, recognized her at once; and what's more, Ronald's dog, Wiggs, recognized her, too. I'll swear he did."
"Old women and dogs! Do you mind my feeling your ducal skull, Osterley? You must be suffering from softening of the brain. The child is my housekeeper, Mary Bride. She has been about the Temple for the last two years; and scores of people can swear that she was at Muttle-Deeping for ten years before that," said the Honorable John Ruffin in incisive tones.
"If I could only be sure that Caroline herself had not put you all up to this game," said the duke dismally. ”