* * * * *

The massive folding doors of the Porte-Cocher at the Hotel d’Hollande had not received their morning opening, when a tremendous loud, long, protracted rat-tat-tat-tat-tan, sounded like thunder throughout the extensive square, and brought numerous nightcapped heads to the windows, to see whether the hotel was on fire, or another revolution had broken out.  The maitre d’hotel screamed, the porter ran, the chef de cuisine looked out of his pigeon-hole window, and the garcons and male femmes des chambres rushed into the yard, with fear and astonishment depicted on their countenances, when on peeping through the grating of the little door, Mr. Jorrocks was descried, knocker in hand, about to sound a second edition.  Now, nothing is more offensive to the nerves of a Frenchman than a riotous knock, and the impertinence was not at all migitated by its proceeding from a stranger who appeared to have arrived through the undignified medium of a co-cou.[23] Having scanned his dimensions and satisfied himself that, notwithstanding all the noise, Jorrocks was mere mortal man, the porter unbolted the door, and commenced a loud and energetic tirade of abuse against “Monsieur Anglais,” for his audacious thumping, which he swore was enough to make every man of the National Guard rush “to arms.”  In the midst of the torrent, very little of which Mr. Jorrocks understood, the Yorkshireman appeared, whom he hurried into the co-cou, bundled in after him, cried “ally!” to the driver, and off they jolted at a miserably slow trot.  A little before seven they reached the village of Passy, where it was arranged they should meet and proceed from thence to the Bois de Boulogne, to select a convenient place for the fight; but neither the confectioner nor his second, nor any one on his behalf, was visible and they walked the length and breadth of the village, making every possible inquiry without seeing or hearing anything of them.  At length, having waited a couple of hours, Mr. Jorrocks’s appetite overpowered his desire of revenge, and caused him to retire to the “Chapeau-Rouge” to indulge in a “fork breakfast.”  Nature being satisfied, he called for pen and ink, and with the aid of Mr. Stubbs drew up the following proclamation which to this day remains posted in the salle a manger a copy whereof was transmitted by post to the confectioner at Paris.

[Footnote 23:  Co-cous are nondescript vehicles that ply in the environs of Paris.  They are a sort of cross between a cab and a young Diligence.]

    PROCLAMATION!

I, John Jorrocks, of Great Coram Street, in the County of Middlesex, Member of the Surrey Hunt, in England, and Colonel of the Army when I’m in France, having been grossly insulted by Charles Adolphe Eugene of No. 15 bis, Rue Poupee, confectioner, this day repaired to Passy, with the intention of sarving him out with my fists; but, neither he nor any one for him having come to the scratch, I, John Jorrocks, do hereby proclaim the said Charles Adolphe Eugene to be a shabby fellow and no soldier, and totally unworthy the notice of a fox-hunter and a gentleman sportsman.

    (Signed) JOHN JORROCKS.