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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2796-0.txt b/2796-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bb48431 --- /dev/null +++ b/2796-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6847 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush + The Yellowplush Papers + +Author: William Makepeace Thackeray + +Posting Date: January 10, 2009 [EBook #2796] +Release Date: September, 2001 +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MR. YELLOWPLUSH *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + + +By William Makepeace Thackeray + + + +CONTENTS + + + MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND + + THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE + + FORING PARTS + + MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS:-- + + CHAP. I. The Two Bundles of Hay + + II. “Honor thy Father” + + III. Minewvring + + IV. “Hitting the Nale on the Hedd” + + V. The Griffin's Claws + + VI. The Jewel + + VII. The Consquinsies + + VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo + + IX. The Marriage + + X. The Honey-moon + + MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW + + SKIMMINGS FROM “THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV.” + + EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI + + + + + +MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + + + + +MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and am, in +consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me Charles James +Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to several noble families, +and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, +and drove the Lord Mayor of London. + +Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the name of +a part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through life, in which I +was, as it were, a footman by buth. + +Praps he was my father--though on this subjict I can't speak suttinly, +for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be illygitmit, I may +have been changed at nuss; but I've always had genlmnly tastes through +life, and have no doubt that I come of a genlmnly origum. + +The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creatur was +very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in her. +Why, I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led a strange +life; sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and sometimes in rags +and dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes kix; sometimes gin, +and sometimes shampang; law bless us! how she used to swear at me, and +cuddle me; there we were, quarrelling and making up, sober and tipsy, +starving and guttling by turns, just as ma got money or spent it. +But let me draw a vail over the seen, and speak of her no more--its +'sfishant for the public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, +and we lived in the New Cut. + +My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her! and I was left alone +in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy me a penny +roal for my brexfast. But there was some amongst our naybors (and let me +tell you there's more kindness among them poor disrepettable creaturs, +than in half a dozen lords or barrynets) who took pity upon poor Sal's +orfin (for they bust out laffin when I called her Miss Montmorency), and +gev me bred and shelter. I'm afraid, in spite of their kindness, that +my MORRILS wouldn't have improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But a +benny-violent genlmn saw me, and put me to school. The academy which I +went to was called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less--the +young genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsisnames, a tin +plate on the left arm, and a cap about the size of a muffing. I stayed +there sicks years; from sicks, that is to say, till my twelth year, +during three years of witch I distinguished myself not a little in the +musicle way, for I bloo the bellus of the church horgin, and very fine +tunes we played too. + +Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what trix we +used to play the applewoman! and how we put snuff in the old clark's +Prayer-book--my eye!); but one day, a genlmn entered the school-room--it +was on the very day when I went to subtraxion--and asked the master for +a young lad for a servant. They pitched upon me glad enough; and nex +day found me sleeping in the sculry, close under the sink, at Mr. Bago's +country-house at Pentonwille. + +Bago kep a shop in Smithfield market, and drov a taring good trade in +the hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he cleared no less +than fifty pounds every year by letting his front room at hanging time. +His winders looked right opsit Newgit, and many and many dozen chaps has +he seen hanging there. Laws was laws in the year ten, and they screwed +chaps' nex for nex to nothink. But my bisniss was at his country-house, +where I made my first ontray into fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, +and stable-boy then, and an't ashamed to own it; for my merrits have +raised me to what I am--two livries, forty pound a year, malt-licker, +washin, silk-stocking, and wax candles--not countin wails, which is +somethink pretty considerable at OUR house, I can tell you. + +I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got me a very +different situation. A handsome young genlmn, who kep a tilbry and a +ridin horse at livry, wanted a tiger. I bid at once for the place; and, +being a neat tidy-looking lad, he took me. Bago gave me a character, and +he my first livry; proud enough I was of it, as you may fancy. + +My new master had some business in the city, for he went in every +morning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, and had it +waiting for him at six; when, if it was summer, he spanked round into +the Park, and drove one of the neatest turnouts there. Wery proud I was +in a gold-laced hat, a drab coat and a red weskit, to sit by his side, +when he drove. I already began to ogle the gals in the carridges, and to +feel that longing for fashionabl life which I've had ever since. When +he was at the oppera, or the play, down I went to skittles, or to White +Condick Gardens; and Mr. Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, I +warrant: to be sure there is very few man-servants at Pentonwille, the +poppylation being mostly gals of all work; and so, though only fourteen, +I was as much a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem. + +But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was such a gay +chap, should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-floor in John +Street--a parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way, and only came in +with his boots and brexfast of a morning. + +The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. They were a poor +but proliffic couple, who had rented the place for many years; and they +and their family were squeezed in it pretty tight, I can tell you. + +Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been a +sub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such think; and, as +I heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave on account of his +NERVOUSNESS. He was such a coward, the fact is, that he was considered +dangerous to the harmy, and sent home. + +He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss Slamcoe. She was +a Bristol gal; and her father being a bankrup in the tallow-chandlering +way, left, in course, a pretty little sum of money. A thousand pound +was settled on her; and she was as high and mighty as if it had been a +millium. + +Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly daughters by +Miss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther a narrow income for +one of her appytite and pretensions. In an unlucky hour for Shum she +met him. He was a widower with a little daughter of three years old, +a little house at Pentonwille, and a little income about as big as her +own. I believe she bullyd the poor creature into marridge; and it was +agreed that he should let his ground-floor at John Street, and so add +somethink to their means. + +They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I can +tell you. She was always talking and blustering about her famly, the +celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the Slamcoes. They +had a six-roomed house (not counting kitching and sculry), and now +twelve daughters in all; whizz.--4 Miss Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, Miss +Dosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny; 1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum's +daughter, and seven others, who shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum was a fat, +red-haired woman, at least a foot taller than S.; who was but a yard and +a half high, pale-faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose +and shut-frill all brown with snuff. + +Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly was +all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged to be +done by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each, and four +small goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of linning or other. +The hall was a regular puddle: wet dabs of dishclouts flapped in your +face; soapy smoking bits of flanning went nigh to choke you; and while +you were looking up to prevent hanging yourself with the ropes which +were strung across and about, slap came the hedge of a pail against your +shins, till one was like to be drove mad with hagony. The great slattnly +doddling girls was always on the stairs, poking about with nasty +flower-pots, a-cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seats +with greasy curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An infernal pianna was +jingling from morning till night--two eldest Miss Buckmasters, “Battle +of Prag”--six youngest Miss Shums, “In my Cottage,” till I knew every +note in the “Battle of Prag,” and cussed the day when “In my Cottage” + was rote. The younger girls, too, were always bouncing and thumping +about the house, with torn pinnyfores, and dogs-eard grammars, and large +pieces of bread and treacle. I never see such a house. + +As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink but +lay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold, scream, and go +into hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old newspaper from weeks' end +to weeks' end, when he was not engaged in teaching the children, or goin +for the beer, or cleanin the shoes: for they kep no servant. This house +in John Street was in short a regular Pandymony. + +What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a place? +The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum. + +And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other daughters +were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty little pink, +modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue eyes, and a neck +as white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal old black gownd, which +had grown too short for her, and too tight; but it only served to show +her pretty angles and feet, and bewchus figger. Master, though he had +looked rather low for the gal of his art, had certainly looked in the +right place. Never was one more pretty or more hamiable. I gav her +always the buttered toast left from our brexfust, and a cup of tea or +chocklate, as Altamont might fancy: and the poor thing was glad enough +of it, I can vouch; for they had precious short commons up stairs, and +she the least of all. + +For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the poor +thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at her. It was, +Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the public-house for the +beer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean stockens out walking, or your +new bonnet to church. Only her poor father was kind to her; and he, poor +old muff! his kindness was of no use. Mary bore all the scolding like +a hangel, as she was: no, not if she had a pair of wings and a goold +trumpet, could she have been a greater hangel. + +I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when Master was +in the city; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I happened to be +listening on the stairs. The old scolding was a-going on, and the old +tune of that hojus “Battle of Prag.” Old Shum made some remark; and Miss +Buckmaster cried out, “Law, pa! what a fool you are!” All the gals began +laffin, and so did Mrs. Shum; all, that is, excep Mary, who turned as +red as flams, and going up to Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two such +wax on her great red ears as made them tingle again. + +Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger. Her great +arms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cuffed and thumped +poor Mary for taking her pa's part. Mary Shum, who was always a-crying +before, didn't shed a tear now. “I will do it again,” she said, “if +Betsy insults my father.” New thumps, new shreex; and the old horridan +went on beatin the poor girl till she was quite exosted, and fell down +on the sophy, puffin like a poppus. + +“For shame, Mary,” began old Shum; “for shame, you naughty gal, you! for +hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating your kind sister.” + +“Why, it was because she called you a--” + +“If she did, you pert miss,” said Shum, looking mighty dignitified, “I +could correct her, and not you.” + +“You correct me, indeed!” said Miss Betsy, turning up her nose, if +possible, higher than before; “I should like to see you erect me! +Imperence!” and they all began laffin again. + +By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her exsize, and she +began to pour in HER wolly. Fust she called Mary names, then Shum. + +“Oh, why,” screeched she, “why did I ever leave a genteel famly, where +I ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a creatur like this? He is +unfit to be called a man, he is unworthy to marry a gentlewoman; and as +for that hussy, I disown her. Thank heaven she an't a Slamcoe; she is +only fit to be a Shum!” + +“That's true, mamma,” said all the gals; for their mother had taught +them this pretty piece of manners, and they despised their father +heartily: indeed, I have always remarked that, in famlies where the wife +is internally talking about the merits of her branch, the husband is +invariably a spooney. + +Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the sofy, at her old +trix--more screeching--more convulshuns: and she wouldn't stop, this +time, till Shum had got her half a pint of her old remedy, from the +“Blue Lion” over the way. She grew more easy as she finished the gin; +but Mary was sent out of the room, and told not to come back agin all +day. + +“Miss Mary,” says I,--for my heart yurned to the poor gal, as she came +sobbing and miserable down stairs: “Miss Mary,” says I, “if I might make +so bold, here's master's room empty, and I know where the cold bif and +pickles is.” “Oh, Charles!” said she, nodding her head sadly, “I'm too +retched to have any happytite.” And she flung herself on a chair, and +began to cry fit to bust. + +At this moment who should come in but my master. I had taken hold of +Miss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I should have kist it, when, +as I said, Haltamont made his appearance. “What's this?” cries he, +lookin at me as black as thunder, or as Mr. Phillips as Hickit, in the +new tragedy of MacBuff. + +“It's only Miss Mary, sir,” answered I. + +“Get out, sir,” says he, as fierce as posbil; and I felt somethink (I +think it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and found myself, +nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets and things. + +The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, as I was +cussin and crying out. “It's only Charles, ma,” screamed out Miss Betsy. + +“Where's Mary?” says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy. + +“She's in Master's room, miss,” said I. + +“She's in the lodger's room, ma,” cries Miss Shum, heckoing me. + +“Very good; tell her to stay there till he comes back.” And then Miss +Shum went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing of Haltamont's +return. + + . . . . . . + +I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after Mary +Shum; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake that he took +and kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the sake of love, which +is above being mersnary, fourteen shillings a wick was a LITTLE too +strong for two such rat-holes as he lived in. I do blieve the famly +had nothing else but their lodger to live on: they brekfisted off his +tea-leaves, they cut away pounds and pounds of meat from his jints (he +always dined at home), and his baker's bill was at least enough for six. +But that wasn't my business. I saw him grin, sometimes, when I laid down +the cold bif of a morning, to see how little was left of yesterday's +sirline; but he never said a syllabub: for true love don't mind a pound +of meat or so hextra. + +At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals; Miss Betsy, +in partickler, grew mighty fond of him: they sat, for whole evenings, +playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her tea and muffing; +but as it was improper for her to come alone, she brought one of her +sisters, and this was genrally Mary,--for he made a pint of asking her, +too,--and one day, when one of the others came instead, he told her, +very quitely, that he hadn't invited her; and Miss Buckmaster was too +fond of muffings to try this game on again: besides, she was jealous of +her three grown sisters, and considered Mary as only a child. Law bless +us! how she used to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play “Meet +Me by Moonlike,” on an old gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head: +but he wouldn't have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere. + +One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for +“Ashley's,” and proposed to take the two young ladies--Miss Betsy and +Miss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me aside that afternoon, +assuming a solamon and misterus hare, “Charles,” said he, “ARE YOU UP TO +SNUFF?” + +“Why sir,” said I, “I'm genrally considered tolerably downy.” + +“Well,” says he, “I'll give you half a suffering if you can manage this +bisness for me; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. When the theatre is +over, you must be waitin with two umbrellows; give me one, and hold the +other over Miss Buckmaster: and, hark ye, sir, TURN TO THE RIGHT when +you leave the theater, and say the coach is ordered to stand a little +way up the street, in order to get rid of the crowd.” + +We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit Cartliche's +hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble! talk of Magreedy! +Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in the principal part. But this +is nothink to the porpus. When the play was over, I was at the door with +the umbrellos. It was raining cats and dogs, sure enough. + +Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his arm, and Miss +Betsy following behind, rayther sulky. “This way, sir,” cries I, pushin +forward; and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy, fit to smother her. +Mr. A. and Miss Mary skipped on and was out of sight when Miss Betsy's +cloak was settled, you may be sure. + +“They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the street, +away from the crowd of carridges.” And off we turned TO THE RIGHT, and +no mistake. + +After marchin a little through the plash and mud, “Has anybody seen +Coxy's fly?” cries I, with the most innocent haxent in the world. + +“Cox's fly!” hollows out one chap. “Is it the vaggin you want?” says +another. “I see the blackin wan pass,” giggles out another gentlmn; and +there was such a hinterchange of compliments as you never heerd. I pass +them over though, because some of 'em were not wery genteel. + +“Law, miss,” said I, “what shall I do? My master will never forgive me; +and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a coach.” Miss Betsy was just +going to call one when I said that; but the coachman wouldn't have it at +that price, he said, and I knew very well that SHE hadn't four or five +shillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in the midst of that tarin rain, +at midnight, we had to walk four miles, from Westminster Bridge to +Pentonwille; and what was wuss, I DIDN'T HAPPEN TO KNOW THE WAY. A very +nice walk it was, and no mistake. + +At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My master was at the +garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms, while master begun +cussin and swearing at me for disobeying his orders, and TURNING TO THE +RIGHT INSTEAD OF TO THE LEFT! Law bless me! his hacting of hanger was +very near as natral and as terrybl as Mr. Cartlich's in the play. + +They had waited half an hour, he said, in the fly, in the little street +at the left of the theater; they had drove up and down in the greatest +fright possible; and at last came home, thinking it was in vain to wait +any more. They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and roast oysters for supper, +and this consoled her a little. + +I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for HER share in this +adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and I do believe is +hignorant to this day of our little strattygim. Besides, all's fair in +love; and, as my master could never get to see her alone, on account +of her infernal eleven sisters and ma, he took this opportunity of +expressin his attachment to her. + +If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid it him back +again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were as tender as two +tuttle-doves--which fully accounts for the axdent what happened to me, +in being kicked out of the room: and in course I bore no mallis. + +I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master was in love +with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down to his parlor as +much as ever. + +Now comes the sing'lar part of my history. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or what +was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I said to him on +a wery rainy day, “Sir, shall I bring the gig down to your office?” and +he gave me one of his black looks and one of his loudest hoaths, and +told me to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Another +day,--it was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,--Miss +M., who adoared him, as I have said already, kep on asking him what was +his buth, parentidg, and ediccation. “Dear Frederic,” says she, “why +this mistry about yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little +Mary”--they were as tender as this, I can tell you--“your buth and your +professin?” + +I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he +said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, “Mary,” said he, “if you love +me, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know that I am a +honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery for you to larn, +must hang over all my actions--that is from ten o'clock till six.” + +They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus +way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses in +Pentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear rayther +better outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his secret, he +swore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing should prevent +him, he said, from leading her to the halter, from makin her his +adoarable wife. After this was a slight silence. “Dearest Frederic,” + mummered out miss, speakin as if she was chokin, “I am yours--yours +for ever.” And then silence agen, and one or two smax, as if there +was kissin going on. Here I thought it best to give a rattle at the +door-lock; for, as I live, there was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the +stairs! + +It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed-rum +window, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half an hour +afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who was a dragon of +vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and frowning, as fat and +as fierce as a old sow at feedin time. + +“Where's the lodger, fellow?” says she to me. + +I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street--“If you mean, ma'am, +my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept in, and is +puttin on clean shoes in his bedroom.” + +She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening the +parlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a-drooping +down her head like a pale lily. + +“Did you come into my famly,” says she, “to corrupt my daughters, and to +destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come here, sir, as +a seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!”--and she folded her +arms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums in the Tragic Mews. + +“I came here, Mrs. Shum,” said he, “because I loved your daughter, or +I never would have condescended to live in such a beggarly hole. I have +treated her in every respect like a genlmn, and she is as innocent now, +ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry me, I am ready; +if she'll leave you, she shall have a home where she shall be neither +bullyd nor starved: no hangry frumps of sisters, no cross mother-in-law, +only an affeckshnat husband, and all the pure pleasures of Hyming.” + +Mary flung herself into his arms--“Dear, dear Frederic,” says she, “I'll +never leave you.” + +“Miss,” says Mrs. Shum, “you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster, thank +God. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and he may +insult me--brave me--trample on my feelinx in my own house--and there's +no-o-o-obody by to defend me.” + +I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and she +began screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the eleven +gals and old Shum. There was a pretty row. “Look here, sir,” says she, +“at the conduck of your precious trull of a daughter--alone with this +man, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides.” + +“What, he?” cries Miss Betsy--“he in love with Mary. Oh, the wretch, the +monster, the deceiver!”--and she falls down too, screeching away as loud +as her mamma; for the silly creature fancied still that Altamont had a +fondness for her. + +“SILENCE THESE WOMEN!” shouts out Altamont, thundering loud. “I love +your daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny, and can afford +to keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll come of her own will. +Is that enough?--may I have her?” + +“We'll talk of this matter, sir,” says Mr. Shum, looking as high and +mighty as an alderman. “Gals, go up stairs with your dear mamma.”--And +they all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage ended. + +You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a husband for +his daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better than all the +pack which had been brought him or born to him by Mrs. Buckmaster. But, +strange to say, when he came to talk of settlements and so forth, not +a word would my master answer. He said he made four hundred a year +reglar--he wouldn't tell how--but Mary, if she married him, must share +all that he had, and ask no questions; only this he would say, as he'd +said before, that he was a honest man. + +They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house at +Islington; but still my master went away to business, and nobody knew +where. Who could he be? + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a chance +of happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There house at +Cannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could be. Carpited +from top to to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; and three +deomestix: of which I, in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy as +in Mr. A.'s bachelor days; but, what then? The three W's is my maxum: +plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep his +gig no longer, but went to the city in an omlibuster. + +One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an effeckshnut +husband, might have been as happy as her blessid majisty. Nothing of the +sort. For the fust six months it was all very well; but then she grew +gloomier and gloomier, though A. did everythink in life to please her. + +Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row, where +he lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little man was a +thought too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's the night that +I've had to support him home. And you may be sure that Miss Betsy did +not now desert her sister: she was at our place mornink, noon, and +night; not much to my mayster's liking, though he was too good-natured +to wex his wife in trifles. + +But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and hated +Altamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things into +the head of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety and +cheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid, just as +if she had been the most misrable woman in the world. + +In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs. +Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and made her +retchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamont +came home: she used to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say, “My +child, my child, your father is false to me;” or, “your father deceives +me;” or “what will you do when your pore mother is no more?” or such +like sentimental stuff. + +It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found out. +The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the house, its a +servant's DUTY to listen; and listen I did, one day when Mrs. was cryin +as usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin her, as she called it: +though, heaven knows, she only grew wuss and wuss for the consolation. + +Well, I listened; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis cryin as +yousual. + +“Pore dear innocint,” says Mrs. S., heavin a great sigh, “you're the +child of a unknown father and a misrable mother.” + +“Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma,” says missis; “he is all kindness +to me.” + +“All kindness, indeed! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a fine gownd, +and a ride in a fly whenever you please; but WHERE DOES ALL HIS +MONEY COME FROM? Who is he--what is he? Who knows that he mayn't be a +murderer, or a housebreaker, or a utterer of forged notes? How can he +make his money honestly, when he won't say where he gets it? Why does he +leave you eight hours every blessid day, and won't say where he goes to? +Oh, Mary, Mary, you are the most injured of women!” + +And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin; and Miss Betsy began yowling like +a cat in a gitter; and pore missis cried, too--tears is so remarkable +infeckshus. + +“Perhaps, mamma,” wimpered out she, “Frederic is a shop-boy, and don't +like me to know that he is not a gentleman.” + +“A shopboy,” says Betsy, “he a shopboy! O no, no, no! more likely a +wretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing all day, and feedin +you with the fruits of his ill-gotten games!” + +More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby joined; and +made a very pretty consort, I can tell you. + +“He can't be a robber,” cries missis; “he's too good, too kind, for +that: besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is always home +at eight.” + +“But he can be a forger,” says Betsy, “a wicked, wicked FORGER. Why does +he go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why does he go to +the city? to be near banks and places, and so do it more at his +convenience.” + +“But he brings home a sum of money every day--about thirty +shillings--sometimes fifty: and then he smiles, and says it's a good +day's work. This is not like a forger,” said pore Mrs. A. + +“I have it--I have it!” screams out Mrs. S. “The villain--the sneaking, +double-faced Jonas! he's married to somebody else he is, and that's why +he leaves you, the base biggymist!” + +At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away. A +dreadful business it was--hystarrix; then hystarrix, in course, from +Mrs. Shum; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up and down +stairs with hot water! If ever there is a noosance in the world, it's a +house where faintain is always goin on. I wouldn't live in one,--no, not +to be groom of the chambers, and git two hundred a year. + +It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place; and such +a row it was, that nobody but me heard master's knock. He came in, and +heard the hooping, and screeching, and roaring. He seemed very much +frightened at first, and said, “What is it?” + +“Mrs. Shum's here,” says I, “and Mrs. in astarrix.” + +Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word which I +don't like to name,--let it suffice that it begins with a D and ends +with a NATION; and he tore up stairs like mad. + +He bust open the bedroom door; missis lay quite pale and stony on the +sofy; the babby was screechin from the craddle; Miss Betsy was sprawlin +over missis; and Mrs. Shum half on the bed and half on the ground: all +howlin and squeelin, like so many dogs at the moond. + +When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a sudding. There +had been one or two tiffs before between them, and they feared him as if +he had been a hogre. + +“What's this infernal screeching and crying about?” says he. “Oh, Mr. +Altamont,” cries the old woman, “you know too well; it's about you that +this darling child is misrabble!” + +“And why about me, pray, madam?” + +“Why, sir, dare you ask why? Because you deceive her, sir; because you +are a false, cowardly traitor, sir; because YOU HAVE A WIFE ELSEWHERE, +SIR!” And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to roar again as loud as +ever. + +Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the door wide open; nex he +seized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he world her out of +the room; then up he goes to Mrs. S. “Get up,” says he, thundering loud, +“you lazy, trolloping, mischsef-making, lying old fool! Get up, and get +out of this house. You have been the cuss and bain of my happyniss +since you entered it. With your d----d lies, and novvle rending, and +histerrix, you have perwerted Mary, and made her almost as mad as +yourself.” + +“My child! my child!” shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings round missis. But +Altamont ran between them, and griping the old lady by her arm, dragged +her to the door. “Follow your daughter, ma'm,” says he, and down she +went. “CHAWLS, SEE THOSE LADIES TO THE DOOR,” he hollows out, “and never +let them pass it again.” We walked down together, and off they went: and +master locked and double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin, +of course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You may be +sure that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result of +their confidence. + +As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. “Mary,” + says master, “you're no longer the merry greatful gal I knew and loved +at Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you--there's no +smilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! Your mother and +sister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's why I've drove them +from this house, which they shall not re-enter in my life.” + +“O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I. Why do you have any +mistry from me? Where do you spend your days? Why did you leave me, +even on the day of your marridge, for eight hours, and continue to do so +every day?” + +“Because,” says he, “I makes my livelihood by it. I leave you, and don't +tell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the happier to know.” + +It was in this way the convysation ren on--more tears and questions on +my missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it ended +for the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel. Wery +difrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and kewing which +had proceeded their nupshuls. + +Master went out, slamming the door in a fury; as well he might. Says he, +“If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly one;” and so +he went off to the hed tavern, and came home that evening beesly +intawsicated. When high words begin in a family drink generally follows +on the genlman's side; and then, fearwell to all conjubial happyniss! +These two pipple, so fond and loving, were now sirly, silent, and full +of il wil. Master went out earlier, and came home later; missis cried +more, and looked even paler than before. + +Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in the +mopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and curosity; until a +singlar axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr. Altamont. + +It was the tenth of January; I recklect the day, for old Shum gev me +half a crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by the way): +he was dining along with master, and they were making merry together. + +Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and little Shum +his twelfth or so--master said, “I see you twice in the City to-day, Mr. +Shum.” + +“Well, that's curous!” says Shum. “I WAS in the City. To-day's the day +when the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid; and me and Mrs. S. went for +our half-year's inkem. But we only got out of the coach, crossed the +street to the Bank, took our money, and got in agen. How could you see +me twice?” + +Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. “O!” says he, “I +was passing--passing as you went in and out.” And he instantly turned +the conversation, and began talking about pollytix, or the weather, or +some such stuff. + +“Yes, my dear,” said my missis, “but how could you see papa TWICE?” + Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever. Still she +would continy on. “Where was you, my dear, when you saw pa? What were +you doing, my love, to see pa twice?” and so forth. Master looked +angrier and angrier, and his wife only pressed him wuss and wuss. + +This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler; and I knew pritty +well that he could git very little further; for, as reglar as the +thirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, and its +consquinzes. I was obliged to leed him home to John Street, where I left +him in the hangry arms of Mrs. Shum. + +“How the d--,” sayd he all the way, “how the d-dd--the +deddy--deddy--devil--could he have seen me TWICE?” + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It was a sad slip on Altamont's part, for no sooner did he go out the +next morning than missis went out too. She tor down the street, and +never stopped till she came to her pa's house at Pentonwill. She was +clositid for an hour with her ma, and when she left her she drove +straight to the City. She walked before the Bank, and behind the Bank, +and round the Bank: she came home disperryted, having learned nothink. + +And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's house for the +next ten days there was nothing but expyditions into the city. Mrs. +S., tho her dropsicle legs had never carred her half so fur before, was +eternally on the key veve, as the French say. If she didn't go, Miss +Betsy did, or misses did: they seemed to have an attrackshun to the +Bank, and went there as natral as an omlibus. + +At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house--(she wasn't admitted +when master was there, but came still in his absints)--and she wore a +hair of tryumph, as she entered. “Mary,” says she, “where is the money +your husbind brought to you yesterday?” My master used always to give it +to missis when he returned. + +“The money, ma!” says Mary. “Why here!” And pulling out her puss, she +showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an odd-looking little coin. + +“THAT'S IT! that's it!” cried Mrs. S. “A Queene Anne's sixpence, isn't +it, dear--dated seventeen hundred and three?” + +It was so sure enough: a Queen Ans sixpence of that very date. + +“Now, my love,” says she, “I have found him! Come with me to-morrow, and +you shall KNOW ALL!” + +And now comes the end of my story. + + . . . . . . + +The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked behind, doing +the genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. We walked down the +New Road--we walked down the City Road--we walked to the Bank. We were +crossing from that heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all of a +sudden missis shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away. + +I rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms: spiling thereby a new +weskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard. I say, very +nearly knocking down the old sweeper who was hobbling away as fast as +posibil. We took her to Birch's; we provided her with a hackney-coach +and every lucksury, and carried her home to Islington. + + . . . . . . + +That night master never came home. Nor the nex night, nor the nex. +On the fourth day an octioneer arrived; he took an infantry of the +furnitur, and placed a bill in the window. + +At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He was haggard and +pale; not so haggard, however, not so pale as his miserable wife. + +He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that I coppied +MY look to Miss ----. He looked at her very tendrilly and held out his +arms. She gev a suffycating shreek, and rusht into his umbraces. + +“Mary,” says he, “you know all now. I have sold my place; I have got +three thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. I've sold my house +and furnitur, and that brings me another. We'll go abroad and love each +other, has formly.” + +And now you ask me, Who he was? I shudder to relate.--Mr. Haltamont SWEP +THE CROSSING FROM THE BANK TO CORNHILL!! + +Of cors, I left his servis. I met him, few years after, at +Badden-Badden, where he and Mrs. A. were much respectid, and pass for +pipple of propaty. + + + + +THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. + + +DIMOND CUT DIMOND. + + +The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more ellygant and +youfonious than that of my fust. I now found myself boddy servant to the +Honrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son of the Earl +of Crabs. + +Halgernon was a barrystir--that is, he lived in Pump Cort, Temple: a +wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. Suffiz to say, it's on +the confines of the citty, and the choasen aboad of the lawyers of this +metrappolish. + +When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean that he +went sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply that he kep +chambers, lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a commitionarship, or +a revisinship, or any other place that the Wig guvvyment could give +him. His father was a Wig pier (as the landriss told me), and had been +a Toary pier. The fack is, his lordship was so poar, that he would be +anythink or nothink, to get provisions for his sons and an inkum for +himself. + +I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year; and it would have +been a very comforable maintenants, only he knever paid him. + +Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake; he got his +allowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble and +fashnabble manner. He kep a kab---he went to Holmax--and Crockfud's--he +moved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the law boox very little, +I can tell you. Those fashnabble gents have ways of getten money, witch +comman pipple doan't understand. + +Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he had +the welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as common as +haypince--clarrit and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin; and +verry glad I was, to be sure, to be a valley to a zion of the nobillaty. + +Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of paper. +The names of his family was wrote on it; it was wrote in the shape of +a tree, a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and the names were on +little plates among the bows. The pictur said that the Deuceaces kem +into England in the year 1066, along with William Conqueruns. My master +called it his podygree. I do bleev it was because he had this pictur, +and because he was the HONRABBLE Deuceace, that he mannitched to live +as he did. If he had been a common man, you'd have said he was no +better than a swinler. It's only rank and buth that can warrant such +singularities as my master show'd. For it's no use disgysing it--the +Honrabble Halgernon was a GAMBLER. For a man of wulgar family, it's the +wust trade that can be--for a man of common feelinx of honesty, this +profession is quite imposbil; but for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it's +the esiest and most prophetable line he can take. + +It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should live in +the Temple; but it must be recklected, that it's not only lawyers who +live in what's called the Ins of Cort. Many batchylers, who have nothink +to do with lor, have here their loginx; and many sham barrysters, who +never put on a wig and gownd twise in their lives, kip apartments in the +Temple, instead of Bon Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble places. + +Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there was +8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar, +Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys; fust floar, Mr. Sergeant +Flabber--opsite, Mr. Counslor Bruffy; and secknd pair, Mr. Haggerstony, +an Irish counslor, praktising at the Old Baly, and lickwise what they +call reporter to the Morning Post nyouspapper. Opsite him was wrote + + + MR. RICHARD BLEWITT; + + +and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. + +This young fellow was a new comer into the Temple, and unlucky it was +for him too--he'd better have never been born; for it's my firm apinion +that the Temple ruined him--that is, with the help of my master and Mr. +Dick Blewitt: as you shall hear. + +Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man, had just left +the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his own--six +thousand pound, or so--in the stox. He was jest of age, an orfin who +had lost his father and mother; and having distinkwished hisself at +Collitch, where he gained seffral prices, was come to town to push his +fortn, and study the barryster's bisness. + +Not bein of a very high fammly hisself--indeed, I've heard say his +father was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort--Dawkins was glad +to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to rich Squire +Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him. + +Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr. Blewitt's +gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters,--mine being +too much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr. Blewitt's sort. +Blewitt was what they call a bettin man; he went reglar to Tattlesall's, +kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and a +cut-away coat. In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, who +was a slim, ellygant man as ever I see--he had very white hands, rayther +a sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed and +as black as Warren's jet--he spoke very low and soft--he seemed to be +watchin the person with whom he was in convysation, and always flatterd +everybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He was always +swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty as posbill. +He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one would trust with +life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at least; who, though a quiet young +man, fond of his boox, novvles, Byron's poems, foot-playing, and such +like scientafic amusemints, grew hand in glove with honest Dick Blewitt, +and soon after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw! he +thought he was makin good connexions and real frends--he had fallen in +with a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that ever lived. + +Before Mr. Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barely +condysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt; it was only about a month after +that suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very friendly +with him. The reason was pretty clear,--Deuceace WANTED HIM. Dawkins had +not been an hour in master's company before he knew that he had a pidgin +to pluck. + +Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended to +keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the Honrabble +Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's clause, who +thought he had it safe. In fact, he'd brought Dawkins to these chambers +for that very porpos, thinking to have him under his eye, and strip him +at leisure. + +My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game. Gamblers +know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation; and though Mr. +Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr. Deuceace, they knew each +other's dealins and caracters puffickly well. + +“Charles you scoundrel,” says Deuceace to me one day (he always spoak in +that kind way), “who is this person that has taken the opsit chambers, +and plays the flute so industrusly?” + +“It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a great +friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir,” says I; “they seem to live in each +other's rooms.” + +Master said nothink, but he GRIN'D--my eye, how he did grin. Not the +fowl find himself could snear more satannickly. + +I knew what he meant: + +Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. + +Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. + +Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and when the +simpleton is RICH, one knows pretty well what will come of it. + +I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as my +master; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless us! there +was four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men as you ever see: +Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. Blewitt's, and me--and +we knew what our masters was about as well as thay did theirselfs. +Frinstance, I can say this for MYSELF, there wasn't a paper in +Deuceace's desk or drawer, not a bill, a note, or mimerandum, which I +hadn't read as well as he: with Blewitt's it was the same--me and his +young man used to read 'em all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that we +didn't get a glass out of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have some +lumps of it. We had keys to all the cubbards--we pipped into all the +letters that kem and went---we pored over all the bill-files--we'd the +best pickens out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemit +balls out of the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals +and candles, we left them to the landrisses. You may call this +robry--nonsince--it's only our rights--a suvvant's purquizzits is as +sacred as the laws of Hengland. + +Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, esquire, was +sityouated as follows: He'd an incum of three hundred a year from his +father. Out of this he had to pay one hundred and ninety for money +borrowed by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, seventy more for his +hoss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and about three hundred and +fifty for a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park; besides this, +his pockit-money, say a hunderd, his eatin, drinkin, and wine-marchant's +bill, about two hunderd moar. So that you see he laid by a pretty +handsome sum at the end of the year. + +My master was diffrent; and being a more fashnable man than Mr. B., in +course he owed a deal more mony. There was fust: + + + Account contray, at Crockford's L 3711 0 0 + Bills of xchange and I. O. U.'s (but he + didn't pay these in most cases) 4963 0 0 + 21 tailors' bills, in all 1306 11 9 + 3 hossdealers' do 402 0 0 + 2 coachbuilder 506 0 0 + Bills contracted at Cambridtch 2193 6 8 + Sundries 987 10 0 + ------------ + L 14069 8 5 + + +I give this as a curosity--pipple doan't know how in many cases +fashnabble life is carried on; and to know even what a real gnlmn OWES +is somethink instructif and agreeable. + +But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the inquiries +concerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned already, he met Mr. Blewitt on +the stairs; and byoutiffle it was to see how this gnlmn, who had before +been almost cut by my master, was now received by him. One of +the sweetest smiles I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's +countenance. He held out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, and +said, in the most frenly tone of vice posbill, “What! Mr. Blewitt? It is +an age since we met. What a shame that such near naybors should see each +other so seldom!” + +Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing-gown, +smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked surprised, +flattered, and then suspicious. + +“Why, yes,” says he, “it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time.” + +“Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By-the-by, what +an evening that was--hay, Mr. Blewitt? What wine! what capital songs! I +recollect your 'May-day in the morning'--cuss me, the best comick song +I ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it only +yesterday. You know the duke, I think?” + +Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, “No, I don't.” + +“Not know him!” cries master; “why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows YOU; as +every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your good +things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket.” + +And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust answered +him quite short and angry: but, after a little more flummery, he grew as +pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry, and bleeved all +his lies. At last the door shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt's +chambers together. + +Of course I can't say what past there; but in an hour master kem up to +his own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo smoke. I +never see any genmln more sick than he was; HE'D BEEN SMOAKIN SEAGARS +along with Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho I'd often heard him +xpress his horrow of backo, and knew very well he would as soon swallow +pizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a reason: if +he'd been smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to some porpus. + +I didn't hear the convysation betwean 'em; but Mr. Blewitt's man did: +it was,--“Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars! Have you one for +a friend to smoak?” (The old fox, it wasn't only the SEAGARS he was +a-smoakin!) “Walk in,” says Mr. Blewitt; and they began a chaffin +together; master very ankshous about the young gintleman who had come +to live in our chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to that +subject,--saying that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly; how +glad he'd be, for his part, to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and ANY FRIEND OF +HIS, and so on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap +laid for him. “I really don't know this Dawkins,” says he: “he's a +chismonger's son, I hear; and tho I've exchanged visits with him, I +doan't intend to continyou the acquaintance,--not wishin to assoshate +with that kind of pipple.” So they went on, master fishin, and Mr. +Blewitt not wishin to take the hook at no price. + +“Confound the vulgar thief!” muttard my master, as he was laying on his +sophy, after being so very ill; “I've poisoned myself with his infernal +tobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor! he thinks +he'll ruin this poor Cheese-monger, does he? I'll step in, and WARN +him.” + +I thought I should bust a-laffin, when he talked in this style. I knew +very well what his “warning” meant,--lockin the stable-door but stealin +the hoss fust. + +Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. Dawkins we +exicuted; and very pritty it was. + +Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, had some +other parshallities--wiz., he was very fond of good eatin and drinkin. +After doddling over his music and boox all day, this young genlmn used +to sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a tavern, drinkin all +sorts of wine along with his friend Mr. Blewitt. He was a quiet young +fellow enough at fust; but it was Mr. B. who (for his own porpuses, no +doubt,) had got him into this kind of life. Well, I needn't say that he +who eats a fine dinner, and drinks too much overnight, wants a bottle +of soda-water, and a gril, praps, in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinses +case; and reglar almost as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from “Dix +Coffy-House” was to be seen on our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D.'s hot +breakfast. + +No man would have thought there was anythink in such a trifling +cirkumstance; master did, though, and pounced upon it like a cock on a +barlycorn. + +He sent me out to Mr. Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's called a +Strasbug-pie--in French, a “patty defau graw.” He takes a card, and +nails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws come generally in a +round wooden box, like a drumb); and what do you think he writes on it? +why, as follos:--“For the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace, &c. &c. &c. +With Prince Talleyrand's compliments.” + +Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed! I laff when I think of it, still, +the old surpint! He WAS a surpint, that Deuceace, and no mistake. + +Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day punctially +as Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming UP the stairs, Mr. Halgernon Percy +Deuceace was going DOWN. He was as gay as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, +and twizzting round his head his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he went +very fast, and by a most unlucky axdent struck his cane against the +waiter's tray, and away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, +soda-water and all! I can't think how my master should have choas such +an exact time; to be sure, his windo looked upon the court, and he could +see every one who came into our door. + +As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a rage as, to +be sure, no man ever was in befor; he swoar at the waiter in the most +dreddfle way; he threatened him with his stick, and it was only when he +see that the waiter was rayther a bigger man than hisself that he was +in the least pazzyfied. He returned to his own chambres; and John, the +waiter, went off for more gril to Dixes Coffy-house. + +“This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles,” says master to me, +after a few minits paws, during witch he had been and wrote a note, +put it into an anvelope, and sealed it with his big seal of arms. “But +stay--a thought strikes me--take this note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pye +you brought yesterday; and hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where you +got it I will break every bone in your skin!” + +These kind of promises were among the few which I knew him to keep: and +as I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I carried the noat, and of cors +said nothink. Waiting in Mr. Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, I +returned to my master with an anser. I may as well give both of these +documence, of which I happen to have taken coppies: + + + I. + + THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. + + “TEMPLE, Tuesday. + + “Mr. DEUCEACE presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at + the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for + the accident which has just taken place. + + “May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to + remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power if Mr. + Dawkins will do him the favor to partake of the contents of the + accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a + friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps + he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the plat which Mr. + Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. + + “It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to + the original donor of the 'pate', when he learns that it has fallen + into the hands of so celebrated a bon vivant as Mr. Dawkins. + + “T. S. DAWKINS, Esq., &c. &c. &c.” + + + II. + + FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + + “MR. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS presents his grateful compliments to the + Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. + Deuceace's generous proffer. + + “It would be one of the HAPPIEST MOMENTS of Mr. Smith Dawkins's + life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would EXTEND HIS GENEROSITY still + further, and condescend to partake of the repast which his + MUNIFICENT POLITENESS has furnished. + + “TEMPLE, Tuesday.” + + +Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters, which +I had wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's copyin clark. Deuceace's +flam about Prince Tallyram was puffickly successful. I saw young Dawkins +blush with delite as he red the note; he toar up for or five sheets +before he composed the answer to it, which was as you red abuff, and +roat in a hand quite trembling with pleasyer. If you could but have seen +the look of triumph in Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he read the +noat! I never see a deamin yet, but I can phansy 1, a holding a writhing +soal on his pitchfrock, and smilin like Deuceace. He dressed himself in +his very best clothes, and in he went, after sending me over to say that +he would except with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. + +The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun betwixt the two +genlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. He spoke to Mr. Dawkins in +the most respeckful and flatrin manner,--agread in every think he +said,--prazed his taste, his furniter, his coat, his classick nolledge, +and his playin on the floot; you'd have thought, to hear him, that such +a polygon of exlens as Dawkins did not breath,--that such a modist, +sinsear, honrabble genlmn as Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xcept +in Pump Cort. Poor Daw was complitly taken in. My master said he'd +introduce him to the Duke of Doncaster, and heaven knows how many nobs +more, till Dawkins was quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as a +fac (and it pretty well shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he went +that very day and ordered 2 new coats, on porpos to be introjuiced to +the lords in. + +But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and swarink--up +stares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung opn Mr. Dawkins's door, shouting +out, “Daw my old buck, how are you?” when, all of a sudden, he sees Mr. +Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, +and looked as if a stror would knock him down. “My dear Mr. Blewitt,” + says my master, smilin and offring his hand, “how glad I am to see you. +Mr. Dawkins and I were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down.” + +Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other out; but +law bless you! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my master: all the time he +was fidgetty, silent, and sulky; on the contry, master was charmin. +I never herd such a flo of conversatin, or so many wittacisms as he +uttered. At last, completely beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf; that +instant master followed him; and passin his arm through that of Mr. +Dick, led him into our chambers, and began talkin to him in the most +affabl and affeckshnat manner. + +But Dick was too angry to listen; at last, when master was telling him +some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt burst out-- + +“A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr. Deuceace, don't +you be running your rigs upon me; I ain't the man to be bamboozl'd by +long-winded stories about dukes and duchesses. You think I don't know +you; every man knows you and your line of country. Yes, you're after +young Dawkins there, and think to pluck him; but you shan't,--no, +by ---- you shan't.” (The reader must recklect that the oaths which +interspussed Mr. B.'s convysation I have left out.) Well, after he'd +fired a wolley of 'em, Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as possbill. + +“Hark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal thieves and +scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector with me, I will cane you; if +you want more, I'll shoot you; if you meddle between me and Dawkins, I +will do both. I know your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. +I know you have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and want +all. I will have half, or you never shall have a penny.” It's quite true +that master knew things; but how was the wonder. + +I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on the wrong +side of the door; but there was a considdrable paws after thuse +complymints had passed between the two genlmn,--one walkin quickly up +and down the room--tother, angry and stupid, sittin down, and stampin +with his foot. + +“Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt,” continues master at last. “If you're +quiet, you shall have half this fellow's money: but venture to win a +shilling from him in my absence, or without my consent, and you do it at +your peril.” + +“Well, well, Mr. Deuceace,” cries Dick, “it's very hard, and I must say, +not fair: the game was of my startin, and you've no right to interfere +with my friend.” + +“Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday not to know this +man, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should like to know +by what law of honor I am bound to give him up to you?” + +It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talkin about HONOR. I +declare I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of the +precious way in which these chaps were going to serve him. But if THEY +didn't know what honor was, I did; and never, never did I tell tails +about my masters when in their sarvice--OUT, in cors, the hobligation is +no longer binding. + +Well, the nex day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White soop, +turbit, and lobstir sos; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and M'Arony; +wines, shampang, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and ever so many +of clarrit. The compny presint was three; wiz., the Honrabble A. P. +Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. My i, how we genlmn in +the kitchin did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when it +was brot out of the parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik; Mr. +Dawkinses genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of age) grew so il with +M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's. +pils, which 1/2 kild him. But this is all promiscuous: I an't talkin of +the survants now, but the masters. + +Would you bleeve it? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine between +the 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game where only 2 plays, and +where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on. + +Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game they +were wonderful equill; and about supper-time (when grilled am, more +shampang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stood +thus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt 30 shillings; the +Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost 3L. l0s. After the devvle and the +shampang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and five +pound the bet. I thought, to be sure, after hearing the complymints +between Blewitt and master in the morning, that now poor Dawkins's time +was come. + +Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and giving him +the very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt five +o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was counting up the skore on +a card. + +“Blewitt,” says he, “I've been unlucky. I owe you, let me see--yes, +five-and-forty pounds?” + +“Five-and-forty,” says Blewitt, “and no mistake!” + +“I will give you a cheque,” says the honrabble genlmn. + +“Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!” But master got a grate sheet +of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit and Co., his +bankers. + +“Now,” says master, “I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. Dawkins. +If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sum +of money. Voyons, thirteen points at a pound--it is easy to calculate;” + and drawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, +which shon till they made my eyes wink. + +So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drew +them in. + +“Let me say,” added master, “let me say (and I've had some little +experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I ever +sat down.” + +Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, “Law, +Deuceace, you flatter me.” + +FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which master +ment. + +“But mind you, Dawkins,” continyoud he, “I must have my revenge; for I'm +ruined--positively ruined by your luck.” + +“Well, well,” says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he had +gained a millium, “shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you?” + +Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, +consented too. “We'll meet,” says he, “at your chambers. But mind, my +dear fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especially +when I have to play ecarte with YOU.” + +Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. “Here, Charles,” says +he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew what was +a-comin! + +But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, MASTER +HAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 more, from +that young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interview +with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. + + +Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bit +wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his money; as +it was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very short +time to part with it. + +Nex day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. Dawkins +had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev his +party,--dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D.'s as befoar. Play +begins at 11. This time I knew the bisness was pretty serious, for +we suvvants was packed off to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to +chambers--no master--he kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a little +toilit, ordered more devvles and soda-water, and back again he went to +Mr. Dawkins's. + +They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all the +vittles came out to us genlmn: they had in more wine though, and must +have drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. + +At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to his +chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar drunk. He +staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he swoar, he flung me +a heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk down exosted on his bed; I pullin +off his boots and close, and making him comfrabble. + +When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of every +servant to do--I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book and +all his letters: a number of axdents have been prevented that way. + +I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty dockyment-- + + + I. O. U. + L 4700. + THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS. + Friday, 16th January. + + +There was another bit of paper of the same kind--“I. 0. U. four hundred +pounds: Richard Blewitt:” but this, in corse, ment nothink. + + . . . . . . + +Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He drest, +and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and the two +gentlmn went together. + +“Where shall he drive, sir?” says I. + +“Oh, tell him to drive to THE BANK.” + +Pore Dawkins! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkenniss, gave a +shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle; and they drove on. + +That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred +pounds. + + . . . . . . + +Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up the +stairs with a sollum and important hair. + +“Is your master at home?” says he. + +“Yes, sir,” says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to the +keyhole, listning with all my mite. + +“Well,” says Blewitt, “we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. +Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins.” + +“Settled!” says master. “Oh, yes--yes--I've settled with him.” + +“Four thousand seven hundred, I think?” + +“About that--yes.” + +“That makes my share--let me see--two thousand three hundred and fifty; +which I'll thank you to fork out.” + +“Upon my word--why--Mr. Blewitt,” says master, “I don't really +understand what you mean.” + +“YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!” says Blewitt, in an axent such as I never +before heard. “You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me that +we were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the other +night to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't you swear, on your honor as +a gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair?” + +“Agreed, sir,” says Deuceace; “agreed.” + +“Well, sir, and now what have you to say?” + +“Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool and +ninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I was going +to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, that +you should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! Or, +stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note of hand, +sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passed +between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace.” + +I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He +stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began blubbring; +now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace to +grant him mercy. + +At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I didn't +tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, “Charles, show the +gentleman down stairs!” My master looked at him quite steddy. Blewitt +slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven +knows where he was! + + . . . . . . + +“Charles,” says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, “I'm going to +Paris; you may come, too, if you please.” + + + + +FORING PARTS. + + +It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had won +this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as extravygant +and osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he determined on going +to Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of all them winnings of his; +didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leave +his natiff shoars--neigh--didn't even so much as call together his +tradesmin, and pay off their little bills befor his departure. + +On the contry, “Chawles,” said he to me, “stick a piece of paper on my +door,” which is the way that lawyers do, “and write 'Back at seven' +upon it.” Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it on our outer oak. And so +mistearus was Deuceace about his continental tour (to all except me), +that when the landriss brought him her account for the last month +(amountain, at the very least, to 2L. 10s.), master told her to leave it +till Monday morning, when it should be properly settled. It's extrodny +how ickonomical a man becomes, when he's got five thousand lbs. in his +pockit. + +Back at 7 indeed! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover Road, in the +Reglator Coach--master inside, me out. A strange company of people there +was, too, in that wehicle,--3 sailors; an Italyin with his music-box and +munky; a missionary, going to convert the heathens in France; 2 oppra +girls (they call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure-aunts' mothers +inside; 4 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and mustashes, singing, +chattering, and jesticklating in the most vonderful vay. Such +compliments as passed between them and the figure-aunts! such a munshin +of biskits and sippin of brandy! such “O mong Jews,” and “O sacrrres,” + and “kill fay frwaws!” I didn't understand their languidge at that time, +so of course can't igsplain much of their conwersation; but it pleased +me, nevertheless, for now I felt that I was reely going into foring +parts: which, ever sins I had had any edication at all, was always my +fondest wish. Heavin bless us! thought I, if these are specimeens of +all Frenchmen, what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's monky, sittin +mopin and meluncolly on his box, was not half so ugly, and seamed quite +as reasonabble. + +Well, we arrived at Dover--“Ship Hotel” weal cutlets half a ginny, +glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half a crownd, a hapnyworth of +wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master paid without grumbling; +as long as it was for himself he never minded the expens: and nex day we +embarked in the packit for Balong sir-mare--which means in French, the +town of Balong sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foring +wonders, expected this to be the fust and greatest: phansy, then, my +disapintment, when we got there, to find this Balong, not situated on +the sea, but on the SHOAR. + +But oh! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I did wish for Pump Court +agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel! Gentle reader, av you +ever been on the otion?--“The sea, the sea, the open sea!” as Barry +Cromwell says. As soon as we entered our little wessel, and I'd +looked to master's luggitch and mine (mine was rapt up in a very small +hankercher), as soon, I say, as we entered our little wessel, as soon +as I saw the waives, black and frothy, like fresh drawn porter, a-dashin +against the ribs of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, splittin +the billoes in two, the sales a-flaffin in the hair, the standard of +Hengland floating at the mask-head, the steward a-getting ready the +basins and things, the capting proudly tredding the deck and giving +orders to the salers, the white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheens +disappearing in the distans--then, then I felt, for the first time, +the mite, the madgisty of existence. “Yellowplush my boy,” said I, in a +dialogue with myself, “your life is now about to commens--your carear, +as a man, dates from your entrans on board this packit. Be wise, be +manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are no longer +a boy now, but a FOOTMAN. Throw down your tops, your marbles, your +boyish games--throw off your childish habbits with your inky clerk's +jackit--throw up your--” + + . . . . . . + +Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the fust place +singlar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly overpowering, +had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, and now I found +myself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me to describe. Suffis to +say, that now I dixcovered what basins was made for--that for many, many +hours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and porpuses, +the rain pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body--the +panes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been about four hours in +this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to that +part of the deck where we servants were all huddled up together, and +calls out “Charles!” + +“Well,” says I, gurgling out a faint “yes, what's the matter?” + +“You're wanted.” + +“Where?” + +“Your master's wery ill,” says he, with a grin. + +“Master be hanged!” says I, turning round, more misrable than ever. I +woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand masters--no, not for the +Empror of Russia or the Pop of Room. + +Well, to cut this sad subjik short, many and many a voyitch have I sins +had upon what Shakspur calls the “wasty dip,” but never such a retched +one as that from Dover to Balong, in the year Anna Domino 1818. Steemers +were scarce in those days; and our journey was made in a smack. At last, +when I was in a stage of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myself +at Death's doar, we got to the end of our journey. Late in the evening +we hailed the Gaelic shoars, and hankered in the arbor of Balong +sir-mare. + +It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master: and as we entered the +calm water, and saw the comfrabble lights gleaming in the houses, and +felt the roal of the vessel degreasing, never was two mortials gladder, +I warrant, than we were. At length our capting drew up at the key, and +our journey was down. But such a bustle and clatter, such jabbering, +such shrieking and swaring, such wollies of oafs and axicrations as +saluted us on landing, I never knew! We were boarded, in the fust place, +by custom-house officers in cock-hats, who seased our luggitch, and +called for our passpots: then a crowd of inn-waiters came, tumbling and +screaming on deck--“Dis way, sare,” cries one; “Hotel Meurice,” says +another; “Hotel de Bang,” screeches another chap--the tower of Babyle +was nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a +big fellow with ear-rings, who very nigh knock me down, in wrenching +master's carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carrying it to the hotell. +But we got to it safe at last; and, for the fust time in my life, I slep +in a foring country. + +I shan't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been visited by +not less (on an avaridg) than two milliums of English since I fust +saw it twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known already. It's a dingy +melumcolly place, to my mind; the only thing moving in the streets is +the gutter which runs down 'em. As for wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em; +and for frogs, upon my honor I never see a single Frenchman swallow +one, which I had been led to beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, +custom. One thing which amazed me was the singlar name which they give +to this town of Balong. It's divided, as every boddy knows, into +an upper town (sitouate on a mounting, and surrounded by a wall, or +bullyvar) and a lower town, which is on the level of the sea. Well, will +it be believed that they call the upper town the Hot Veal, and the other +the Base Veal, which is on the contry, genrally good in France, though +the beaf, it must be confest, is excrabble. + +It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at the Hotel +de Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew; and if he'd +been the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of Canterbury, he could +not have given himself greater hairs, I can tell you. Nothink was too +fine for us now; we had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, which +belonged to the prime minister of France (at least the landlord said +they were the premier's); and the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had +not paid his landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to think +that goold was too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would break +down with a man of his weight. Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, +besides bordo, clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the +delixes of the Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, +and did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the bench, and +watch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of them long, +sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know why, tallow-scoops. +Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped here were boath numerous and +daliteful; nothink, in fact, could be more pickong, as they say. In the +morning before breakfast we boath walked on the Peer; master in a blue +mareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new livry; both provided with long +sliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I don't know Y, but I suppose +it's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. With these we igsamined, very +attentively, the otion, the sea-weed, the pebbles, the dead cats, the +fishwimmin, and the waives (like little children playing at leap-frog), +which came tumblin over 1 another on to the shoar. It seemed to me as if +they were scrambling to get there, as well they might, being sick of the +sea, and anxious for the blessid, peaceable terry firmy. + +After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his beat, and me +on mine,--for my place in this foring town was a complete shinycure), +and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, we egsamined a little +more the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on; and this lasted till +dinner, and dinner till bedtime, and bedtime lasted till nex day, when +came brexfast, and dinner, and tally-scooping, as before. This is the +way with all people of this town, of which, as I've heard say, there is +ten thousand happy English, who lead this plesnt life from year's end to +year's end. + +Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentlemen, a little +dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowygers. In none of these +amusements did we partake. We were a LITTLE too good to play crown pints +at cards, and never get paid when we won; or to go dangling after the +portionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops and penny-wist along +with the old ladies. No, no; my master was a man of fortn now, and +behayved himself as sich. If ever he condysended to go into the public +room of the Hotel de Bang--the French (doubtless for reasons best known +to themselves) call this a sallymanjy--he swoar more and lowder than +any one there; he abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his +glas in his i, he staired at every body. He took always the place before +the fire. He talked about “my carridge,” “my currier,” “my servant;” and +he did wright. I've always found through life, that if you wish to be +respected by English people, you must be insalent to them, especially +if you are a sprig of nobiliaty. We LIKE being insulted by noblemen,--it +shows they're familiar with us. Law bless us! I've known many and many +a genlmn about town who'd rather be kicked by a lord than not be noticed +by him; they've even had an aw of ME, because I was a lord's footman. +While my master was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airs +I gave myself in the kitching, I can tell you; and the consequints was, +that we were better served, and moar liked, than many pipple with twice +our merit. + +Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him so long at +Balong; and it clearly was his wish to act the man of fortune there for +a little time before he tried the character of Paris. He purchased a +carridge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine new livry blazin +with lace, and he past through the Balong bank a thousand pounds of the +money he had won from Dawkins, to his credit at a Paris house; showing +the Balong bankers at the same time, that he'd plenty moar in his +potfolie. This was killin two birds with one stone; the bankers' clerks +spread the nuse over the town, and in a day after master had paid the +money every old dowyger in Balong had looked out the Crabs' family +podigree in the Peeridge, and was quite intimate with the Deuceace name +and estates. If Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's many +vurtuous English mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. + +Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town without +excommunicating with his father on the subject of his intended +continental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my Lord +Crabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a copy. It ran thus:-- + + +“BOULOGNE, January 25. + +“MY DEAR FATHER,--I have long, in the course of my legal studies, found +the necessity of a knowledge of French, in which language all the early +history of our profession is written, and have determined to take a +little relaxation from chamber reading, which has seriously injured +my health. If my modest finances can bear a two months' journey, and a +residence at Paris, I propose to remain there that period. + +“Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to Lord +Bobtail, our ambassador? My name, and your old friendship with him, I +know would secure me a reception at his house; but a pressing letter +from yourself would at once be more courteous, and more effectual. + +“May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an expensive +man, my dear father, as you know; but we are no chameleons, and fifty +pounds (with my little earnings in my profession) would vastly add to +the agremens of my continental excursion. + +“Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish the +hard portion of a younger son had not been mine, and that I could live +without the dire necessity for labor, happy among the rural scenes of my +childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters and you! Heaven bless +you, dearest father, and all those beloved ones now dwelling under the +dear old roof at Sizes. + +“Ever your affectionate son, + +“Algernon. + +“THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS, &c., + +SIZES COURT, BUCKS.” + + +To this affeckshnat letter his lordship replied, by return of poast, as +follos:-- + + +“MY DEAR ALGERNON,--Your letter came safe to hand and I enclose you the +letter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and has one of +the best cooks in Europe. + +“We were all charmed with your warm remembrances of us, not having seen +you for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family affection +which, in spite of time and absence, still clings so fondly to home. It +is a sad, selfish world, and very few who have entered it can afford to +keep those fresh feelings which you have, my dear son. + +“May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer. Be sure, +dear Algernon, that they will be through life your greatest comfort, as +well as your best worldly ally; consoling you in misfortune, cheering +you in depression, aiding and inspiring you to exertion and success. + +“I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at Coutts's is so low, +just now, as to render a payment of your allowance for the present +impossible. I see by my book that I owe you now nine quarters, or 450L. +Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully paid over to +you on the first opportunity. + +“By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the newspapers, which +may interest you: and have received a very strange letter from a Mr. +Blewitt, about a play transaction, which, I suppose, is the case alluded +to in these prints. He says you won 4700L. from one Dawkins: that the +lad paid it; that he, Blewitt, was to go what he calls 'snacks' in the +winning; but that you refused to share the booty. How can you, my dear +boy, quarrel with these vulgar people, or lay yourself in any way open +to their attacks? I have played myself a good deal, and there is no man +living who can accuse me of a doubtful act. You should either have shot +this Blewitt or paid him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late to +do the former; and, perhaps, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. +My dearest boy! recollect through life that YOU NEVER CAN AFFORD TO BE +DISHONEST WITH A ROQUE. Four thousand seven hundred pounds was a great +coup, to be sure. + +“As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Algernon! lend +me five hundred pounds? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay you. Your +brothers and sisters send you their love. I need not add, that you have +always the blessings of your affectionate father, + +“CRABS.” + +“P.S.--Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a thousand.” + + . . . . . . + +I needn't say that this did not QUITE enter into Deuceace's eyedears. +Lend his father 500 pound, indeed! He'd as soon have lent him a box on +the year! In the fust place, he hadn seen old Crabs for seven years, as +that nobleman remarked in his epistol; in the secknd he hated him, and +they hated each other; and nex, if master had loved his father ever +so much, he loved somebody else better--his father's son, namely: and +sooner than deprive that exlent young man of a penny, he'd have sean all +the fathers in the world hangin at Newgat, and all the “beloved ones,” + as he called his sisters, the Lady Deuceacisses, so many convix at +Bottomy Bay. + +The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret WE wished to keep +the play transaction, the public knew it now full well. Blewitt, as I +found after, was the author of the libels which appeared right and left: + + +“GAMBLING IN HIGH LIFE--the HONORABLE Mr. D--c--ce again!--This +celebrated whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some profit. +On Friday, the 16th January, he won five thousand pounds from a VERY +young gentleman, Th-m-s Sm-th D-wk-ns, Esq., and lost two thousand five +hundred to R. Bl-w-tt, Esq., of the T-mple. Mr. D. very honorably paid +the sum lost by him to the honorable whist-player, but we have not heard +that, BEFORE HIS SUDDEN TRIP TO PARIS, Mr. D--uc--ce paid HIS losings to +Mr. Bl-w-tt.” + + +Nex came a “Notice to Corryspondents:” + + +“Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the notorious +Deuceace? We answer, WE DO; and, in our very next Number, propose to +make some of them public.” + + . . . . . . + +They didn't appear, however; but, on the contry, the very same +newspeper, which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, was now loud in +his praise. It said:-- + + +“A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last week, +most unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of high birth and +talents, the son of the exemplary E-rl of Cr-bs. We repel, with scorn +and indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the malignant slanderer +who vilified Mr. De--ce-ce, and beg to offer that gentleman the only +reparation in our power for having thus tampered with his unsullied +name. We disbelieve the RUFFIAN and HIS STORY, and most sincerely +regret that such a tale, or SUCH A WRITER, should ever have been brought +forward to the readers of this paper.” + + +This was satisfactory, and no mistake: and much pleased we were at the +denial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased that master sent +him a ten-pound noat, and his complymints. He'd sent another to the same +address, BEFORE this parrowgraff was printed; WHY, I can't think: for I +woodn't suppose any thing musnary in a littery man. + +Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the carridge +smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we bade ojew to +Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure we cut! and, my i, +what a figger the postillion cut! A cock-hat, a jackit made out of a +cow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-tale about 3 fit in length, +and a pair of boots! Oh, sich a pare! A bishop might almost have +preached out of one, or a modrat-sized famly slep in it. Me and Mr. +Schwigshhnaps, the currier, sate behind in the rumbill; master aloan in +the inside, as grand as a Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off +we sett, bowing gracefly to the crowd; the harniss-bells jinglin, the +great white hosses snortin, kickin, and squeelin, and the postilium +cracking his wip, as loud as if he'd been drivin her majesty the quean. + + . . . . . . + +Well, I shan't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties, +willitches, and metrappolishes; sleeping the fust night at Amiens, +witch, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for +what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done with +sugar and brown sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the boasting about +them, I think I like our marrowphats better. + +Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here concarning +them. Master, who was brexfasting before going away, told me to go and +get him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald the waiter of the +inn, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always do), said “Bong” (which +means, very well), and presently came back. + +I'M BLEST IF HE DIDN'T BRING MASTER A PLATE OF CABBITCH! Would you +bleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they say +there's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses are so +extonishingly ignorant as to call a CABBIDGE a SHOO! Never, never let +it be said, after this, that these benighted, souperstitious, misrabble +SAVIDGES, are equill, in any respex, to the great Brittish people. The +moor I travvle, the moor I see of the world, and other natiums, I am +proud of my own, and despise and deplore the retchid ignorance of the +rest of Yourup. + + . . . . . . + +My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early opportunity. Me and +Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you. + + + + +MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY. + + +Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K.C.B., was about seventy-five +years old when he left this life, and the East Ingine army, of which he +was a distinguished ornyment. Sir George's first appearance in Injar was +in the character of a cabbingboy to a vessel; from which he rose to be +clerk to the owners at Calcutta, from which he became all of a sudden a +capting in the Company's service; and so rose and rose, until he rose to +be a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising altogether--hopping the +twig of this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors must do. + +Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the name of Griffin. +A widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching twenty-three, +was left behind to deploar his loss, and share his proppaty. On old Sir +George's deth, his interesting widdo and orfan, who had both been with +him in Injer, returned home--tried London for a few months, did not +like it, and resolved on a trip to Paris; where very small London people +become very great ones, if they've money, as these Griffinses had. +The intelligent reader need not be told that Miss Griffin was not the +daughter of Lady Griffin; for though marritches are made tolrabbly early +in Injer, people are not quite so precoashoos as all that: the fact is, +Lady G. was Sir George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that Miss +Matilda Griffin wos the offspring of his fust marritch. + +Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken out to +Calcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disposed of +by her uncle, Capting Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she married Sir +George at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine of whom kep a +school at Islington (the other 4 being married variously in the city), +were not a little envius of my lady's luck, and not a little proud of +their relationship to her. One of 'em, Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, +and by no means the least ugly of the sett, was staying with her +ladyship, and gev me all the partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, +being of a lo sort, I in course no nothink; MY acquaintance, thank my +stars, don't lie among them, or the likes of them. + +Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat sister, +in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing! I'd a soon be a gally +slave, as lead the life she did! Every body in the house despised her; +her ladyship insulted her; the very kitching gals scorned and flouted +her. She roat the notes, she kep the bills, she made the tea, she +whipped the chocklate, she cleaned the canary birds, and gev out the +linning for the wash. She was my lady's walking pocket, or rettycule; +and fetched and carried her handkercher, or her smell-bottle, like a +well-bred spaniel. All night, at her ladyship's swarries, she thumped +kidrills (nobody ever thought of asking HER to dance!); when Miss +Griffing sung, she played the piano, and was scolded because the singer +was out of tune; abommanating dogs, she never drove out without her +ladyship's puddle in her lap; and, reglarly unwell in a carriage, she +never got anything but the back seat. Poar Jemima! I can see her now +in my lady's SECKND-BEST old clothes (the ladies'-maids always got the +prime leavings): a liloc sattn gown, crumpled, blotched, and greasy; a +pair of white sattn shoes, of the color of Inger rubber; a faded yellow +velvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl flowers run to sead, and a bird +of Parrowdice perched on the top of it, melumcolly and moulting, with +only a couple of feathers left in his unfortunate tail. + +Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Lady and Miss Griffin kept a +number of other servants in the kitching; 2 ladies'-maids; 2 footmin, +six feet high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white cassymear +pantyloons; a coachmin to match; a page: and a Shassure, a kind +of servant only known among forriners, and who looks more like a +major-general than any other mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a unicorn +covered with silver lace, mustashos, eplets, and a sword by his side. +All these to wait upon two ladies; not counting a host of the fair sex, +such as cooks, scullion, housekeepers, and so forth. + +My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a grand sweet +of rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having thus described their +house, and their servants' hall, I may give a few words of description +concerning the ladies themselves. + +In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My lady was +twenty-seven--a widdo of two years--fat, fair, and rosy. A slow, quiet, +cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals generally are, it seemed +difficult to rouse her either into likes or dislikes; to the former, +at least. She never loved any body but ONE, and that was herself. She +hated, in her calm, quiet way, almost every one else who came near +her--every one, from her neighbor, the duke, who had slighted her at +dinner, down to John the footman, who had torn a hole in her train. I +think this woman's heart was like one of them lithograffic stones, you +CAN'T RUB OUT ANY THING when once it's drawn or wrote on it; nor could +you out of her ladyship's stone--heart, I mean--in the shape of an +affront, a slight, or real, or phansied injury. She boar an exlent, +irreprotchable character, against which the tongue of scandal never +wagged. She was allowed to be the best wife posbill--and so she was; but +she killed her old husband in two years, as dead as ever Mr. Thurtell +killed Mr. William Weare. She never got into a passion, not she--she +never said a rude word; but she'd a genius--a genius which many women +have--of making A HELL of a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures of +her family, until they were wellnigh drove mad. + +Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as amiable as +her mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted; my lady, to do her +justice, was straight, and looked the same way with her i's. She was +dark, and my lady was fair--sentimental, as her ladyship was cold. My +lady was never in a passion--Miss Matilda always; and awfille were the +scenes which used to pass between these 2 women, and the wickid, wickid +quarls which took place. Why did they live together? There was the +mistry. Not related, and hating each other like pison, it would surely +have been easier to remain seprat, and so have detested each other at a +distans. + +As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it was clear, +was very considrabble--300 thousand lb. at the least, as I have heard +say. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. Some said that her ladyship +was sole mistriss of it, others that it was divided, others that she had +only a life inkum, and that the money was all to go (as was natral) to +Miss Matilda. These are subjix which are not praps very interesting to +the British public, but were mighty important to my master, the +Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, +etsettler. + +For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very intimat in this +house; and that we were now comfortably settled at the Hotel Mirabew +(pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rew delly Pay, at Paris. We had +our cab, and two riding horses; our banker's book, and a thousand pound +for a balantz at Lafitt's; our club at the corner of the Rew Gramong; +our share in a box at the oppras; our apartments, spacious and elygant; +our swarries at court; our dinners at his excellency Lord Bobtail's +and elsewhere. Thanks to poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, we were as +complete gentlemen as any in Paris. + +Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself at the head of +a smart sum of money, and in a country where his debts could not bother +him, determined to give up for the present every think like gambling--at +least, high play; as for losing or winning a ralow of Napoleums at whist +or ecarty, it did not matter; it looks like money to do such things, and +gives a kind of respectabilaty. “But as for play, he wouldn't--oh no! +not for worlds!--do such a thing.” He HAD played, like other young men +of fashn, and won and lost [old fox! he didn't say he had PAID]; but he +had given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said, to live +on his inkum. The fact is, my master was doing his very best to act +the respectable man: and a very good game it is, too; but it requires a +precious great roag to play it. + +He made his appearans reglar at church--me carrying a handsome large +black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the psalms and lessons marked +out with red ribbings; and you'd have thought, as I graivly laid the +volloms down before him, and as he berried his head in his nicely +brushed hat, before service began, that such a pious, proper morl, young +nobleman was not to be found in the whole of the peeridge. It was a +comfort to look at him. Efry old tabby and dowyger at my Lord Bobtail's +turned up the wights of their i's when they spoke of him, and vowed they +had never seen such a dear, daliteful, exlent young man. What a good son +he must be, they said; and oh, what a good son-in-law! He had the pick +of all the English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, +unfortunately, most of them were poar; and love and a cottidge was not +quite in master's way of thinking. + +Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. made their appearants +at Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon changed his noat. +He sate near them at chapple, and sung hims with my lady: he danced with +'em at the embassy balls; he road with them in the Boy de Balong and +the Shandeleasies (which is the French High Park); he roat potry in Miss +Griffin's halbim, and sang jewets along with her and Lady Griffin; he +brought sweet-meats for the puddle-dog; he gave money to the footmin, +kissis and gloves to the sniggering ladies'-maids; he was sivvle even +to poar Miss Kicksey; there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses that +didn't adoar this good young man. + +The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each other +now wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy between them: +miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty; madam of miss's espree: miss +taunting my lady about the school at Islington, and my lady sneering at +miss for her squint and her crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. +They both fell in love with Mr. Deuceace--my lady, that is to say, as +much as she could, with her cold selfish temper. She liked Deuceace, who +amused her and made her laff. She liked his manners, his riding, and his +good loox; and being a pervinew herself had a dubble respect for real +aristocratick flesh and blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flams +and fury. She'd always been at this work from the time she had been at +school, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master; next with +a footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no means unnatral or +unusyouall, as I COULD SHOW IF I LIKED); and so had been going on sins +fifteen. She reglarly flung herself at Deuceace's head--such sighing, +crying, and ogling, I never see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, +as I brought master skoars of rose-colored billydoos, folded up like +cockhats, and smellin like barber's shops, which this very tender young +lady used to address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and no +mistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good breading; and miss CAME +A LITTLE TOO STRONG (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression) with her +hardor and attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides, she had a crookid +spine, and a squint; so that (supposing their fortns tolrabbly equal) +Deuceace reely preferred the mother-in-law. + +Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most money. With +an English famly this would have been easy: a look at a will at Doctor +Commons'es would settle the matter at once. But this India naybob's +will was at Calcutty, or some outlandish place; and there was no getting +sight of a coppy of it. I will do Mr. Algernon Deuceace the justass to +say, that he was so little musnary in his love for Lady Griffin, that he +would have married her gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds less +than Miss Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both in +play, until he could strike the best fish of the two--not a difficult +matter for a man of his genus: besides, Miss was hooked for certain. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +“HONOR THY FATHER.” + + +I said that my master was adoard by every person in my Lady Griffin's +establishmint. I should have said by every person excep one,--a young +French gnlmn, that is, who, before our appearants, had been mighty +partiklar with my lady, ockupying by her side exackly the same +pasition which the Honrable Mr. Deuceace now held. It was bewtiffle +and headifying to see how coolly that young nobleman kicked the poar +Shevalliay de L'Orge out of his shoes, and how gracefully he himself +stept into 'em. Munseer de L'Orge was a smart young French jentleman, +of about my master's age and good looks, but not possest of half my +master's impidince. Not that that quallaty is uncommon in France; +but few, very few, had it to such a degree as my exlent employer, Mr. +Deuceace. Besides De L'Orge was reglarly and reely in love with Lady +Griffin, and master only pretending: he had, of coars, an advantitch, +which the poor Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and gaty, +while Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My master had said twenty +pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the shevalier had finished +smoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his weskit. +O luv, luv! THIS isn't the way to win a woman, or my name's not Fitzroy +Yellowplush! Myself, when I begun my carear among the fair six, I +was always sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman. What was the +consquints? The foar fust women I adoared lafft at me, and left me for +something more lively. With the rest I have edopted a diffrent game, +and with tolerable suxess, I can tell you. But this is eggatism, which I +aboar. + +Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdinand Hyppolite +Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was reglar cut out by Munseer +Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand did not leave the +house--he hadn't the heart to do that--nor had my lady the desire +to dismiss him. He was usefle in a thousand different ways, gitting +oppra-boxes, and invitations to French swarries, bying gloves, and O de +Colong, writing French noats, and such like. Always let me recommend +an English famly, going to Paris, to have at least one young man of the +sort about them. Never mind how old your ladyship is, he will make love +to you; never mind what errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and do +them. Besides, he's always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx moar +than a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to consider. +Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de L'Orge--the greatest use +and comfort to my lady posbill; if it was but to laff at his bad +pronunciatium of English, it was somethink amusink; the fun was to pit +him against poar Miss Kicksey, she speakin French, and he our naytif +British tong. + +My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this poar young +Frenchman; and having kicked him out of the place which he occupied, +sertingly treated his fallen anymy with every respect and consideration. +Poar modist, down-hearted little Ferdinand adoured my lady as a goddice! +and so he was very polite likewise to my master--never venturing once to +be jellows of him, or to question my Lady Griffin's right to change her +lover, if she choase to do so. + +Thus, then, matters stood; master had two strinx to his bo, and might +take either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred: com bong lwee +somblay, as the Frentch say. His only pint was to discover how the money +was disposed off, which evidently belonged to one or other, or boath. +At any rate he was sure of one; as sure as any mortal man can be in this +sublimary spear, where nothink is suttin except unsertnty. + + . . . . . . + +A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal changed +my master's calkylations. + +One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after suppink +of white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang glassy (which means eyced), +at their house in the Plas Vandom, me and master droav hoam in the cab, +as happy as possbill. + +“Chawls you d----d scoundrel,” says he to me (for he was in an exlent +humer), “when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis.” + +This he might do, to be sure, without injuring himself, seeing that he +had us yet never paid me any. But, what then? Law bless us! things +would be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived on our WAGIS; our +puckwisits is the thing, and no mistake. + +I ixprest my gratitude as best I could; swoar that it wasn't for wagis +I served him--that I would as leaf weight upon him for nothink; and that +never, never, so long as I livd, would I, of my own accord, part from +such an exlent master. By the time these two spitches had been made--my +spitch and his--we arrived at the “Hotel Mirabeu;” which, us every body +knows, ain't very distant from the Plas Vandome. Up we marched to our +apartmince, me carrying the light and the cloax, master hummink a hair +out of the oppra, as merry as a lark. + +I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in the room; +an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floar, another on the table; near +which the sofy was drawn, and on it lay a stout old genlmn, smoaking +seagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room. + +Deuceace (who abommunates seagars, as I've already shown) bust into +a furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see for the +smoak; and, with a number of oaves quite unnecessary to repeat, asked +him what bisniss he'd there. + +The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his seagar, began a ror of +laffin, and said, “What! Algy my boy! don't you know me?” + +The reader may praps recklect a very affecting letter which was +published in the last chapter of these memoars; in which the writer +requested a loan of five hundred pound from Mr. Algernon Deuceace, and +which boar the respected signatur of the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Deuceace's +own father. It was that distinguished arastycrat who was now smokin and +laffin in our room. + +My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A stowt, burly, +red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose seemed blushing at what his +mouth was continually swallowing; whose hand, praps, trembled a little; +and whose thy and legg was not quite so full or as steddy as they +had been in former days. But he was a respecktabble, fine-looking old +nobleman; and though it must be confest, 1/2 drunk when we fust made our +appearance in the salong, yet by no means moor so than a reel noblemin +ought to be. + +“What, Algy my boy!” shouts out his lordship, advancing and seasing +master by the hand, “doan't you know your own father?” + +Master seemed anythink but overhappy. “My lord,” says he, looking very +pail, and speakin rayther slow, “I didn't--I confess--the unexpected +pleasure--of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir, said he,” recovering +himself a little; “the fact is, there was such a confounded smoke of +tobacco in the room, that I really could not see who the stranger was +who had paid me such an unexpected visit.” + +“A bad habit, Algernon; a bad habit,” said my lord, lighting another +seagar: “a disgusting and filthy practice, which you, my dear child, +will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, but a nasty, idle +pastime, unfitting a man as well for mental exertion as for respectable +society; sacrificing, at once, the vigor of the intellect and the graces +of the person. By-the-by, what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, in +this hotel. Could not you send your servant to get me a few seagars at +the Cafe de Paris? Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, +that's a good fellow.” + +Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of shampang. +Very sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me on the errint. + +Knowing the Cafe de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say a word, +but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room; where, as it happened +by a singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of the conversation +between this exlent pair of relatifs. + +“Help yourself, and get another bottle,” says my lord, after a sollum +paws. My poar master, the king of all other compnies in which he moved, +seamed here but to play secknd fiddill, and went to the cubbard, +from which his father had already igstracted two bottils of his prime +Sillary. + +He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the windows, +stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and suttnly +seamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no use; the old +one would not budg. “Help yourself,” says he again, “and pass me the +bottil.” + +“You are very good, father,” says master; “but really, I neither drink +nor smoke.” + +“Right, my boy: quite right. Talk about a good conscience in this +life--a good STOMACK is everythink. No bad nights, no headachs--eh? +Quite cool and collected for your law studies in the morning?--eh?” And +the old nobleman here grinned, in a manner which would have done creddit +to Mr. Grimoldi. + +Master sate pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier under the cat. +He didn't anser a word. His exlent pa went on, warming as he continued +to speak, and drinking a fresh glas at evry full stop. + +“How you must improve, with such talents and such principles! Why, +Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance: you're not +merely a philosopher, man; hang it! you've got the philosopher's stone. +Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all for 200 a year!” + +“I presume, sir,” says my master, “that you mean the two hundred a year +which YOU pay me?” + +“The very sum, my boy; the very sum!” cries my lord, laffin as if he +would die. “Why, that's the wonder! I never pay the two hundred a year, +and you keep all this state up upon nothing. Give me your secret, O you +young Trismegistus! Tell your old father how such wonders can be worked, +and I will--yes, then, upon my word, I will--pay you your two hundred a +year!” + +“Enfin, my lord,” says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and losing all +patience, “will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit means? +You leave me to starve, for all you care; and you grow mighty facetious +because I earn my bread. You find me in prosperity, and--” + +“Precisely, my boy; precisely. Keep your temper, and pass that bottle. +I find you in prosperity; and a young gentleman of your genius and +acquirements asks me why I seek your society? Oh, Algernon! Algernon! +this is not worthy of such a profound philosopher. WHY do I seek you? +Why, because you ARE in prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil should +I bother my self about you? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, +ever get from you a single affectionate feeling? Did we, or any other of +your friends or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honest +or generous action? Did we ever pretend any love for you, or you for us? +Algernon Deuceace, you don't want a father to tell you that you are +a swindler and a spendthrift! I have paid thousands for the debts of +yourself and your brothers; and, if you pay nobody else, I am determined +you shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means, when I wrote +to you and asked you for a loan of money. I knew you would not. Had +I written again to warn you of my coming, you would have given me the +slip; and so I came, uninvited, to FORCE you to repay me. THAT'S why I +am here, Mr. Algernon; and so help yourself and pass the bottle.” + +After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, and puffed +as much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chimley of a +steam-injian. I was pleased, I confess, with the sean, and liked to see +this venrabble and virtuous old man a-nocking his son about the hed; +just as Deuceace had done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, as I've before +shown. Master's face was, fust, red-hot; next, chawk-white: and then +sky-blew. He looked, for all the world, like Mr. Tippy Cooke in the +tragady of Frankinstang. At last, he mannidged to speek. + +“My lord,” says he, “I expected when I saw you that some such scheme was +on foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at least it is but a family +failing; and I am indebted for my virtues to my father's precious +example. Your lordship has, I perceive, added drunkenness to the list +of your accomplishments, and, I suppose, under the influence of that +gentlemanly excitement, has come to make these preposterous propositions +to me. When you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, +that, fool as I may be, I am not such a fool as you think me; and that +if I have got money, I intend to keep it--every farthing of it, though +you were to be ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening as you +are now.” + +“Well, well, my boy,” said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have been half +asleep during his son's oratium, and received all his sneers and +surcasms with the most complete good-humor; “well, well, if you will +resist, tant pis pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you, recollect, and +am not in the slightest degree angry but I must and will have a thousand +pounds. You had better give me the money at once; it will cost you more +if you don't.” + +“Sir,” says Mr. Deuceace, “I will be equally candid. I would not give +you a farthing to save you from--” + +Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my hat, said, “I +have been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the house is shut.” + +“Bon: there's a good lad; you may keep the five francs. And now, get me +a candle and show me down stairs.” + +But my master seized the wax taper. “Pardon me, my lord,” says he. +“What! a servant do it, when your son is in the room? Ah, par exemple, +my dear father,” said he, laughing, “you think there is no politeness +left among us.” And he led the way out. + +“Good night, my dear boy,” said Lord Crabs. + +“God bless you, sir,” says he. “Are you wrapped warm? Mind the step!” + +And so this affeckshnate pair parted. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +MINEWVRING. + + +Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants--he seamed to +think that his pa's visit boded him no good. I heard him muttering at +his brexfast, and fumbling among his hundred pound notes; once he had +laid a parsle of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to his +father. “But no,” says he at last, clutching them all up together again, +and throwing them into his escritaw, “what harm can he do me? If he is +a knave, I know another who's full as sharp. Let's see if we cannot beat +him at his own weapons.” With that Mr. Deuceace drest himself in his +best clothes, and marched off to the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to the +fair widdo and the intresting orfn. + +It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on seeing +them, a number of planns for the day's rackryation. Riding in the Body +Balong, going to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet (who was then +the raining sufferin of the French crownd) go to chapple, and, finely, +a dinner at 5 o'clock at the Caffy de Parry; whents they were all to +adjourn, to see a new peace at the theatre of the Pot St. Martin, called +Sussannar and the Elders. + +The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepositiums. “We have +an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon,” said my lady. “Look--a very kind +letter from Lady Bobtail.” And she handed over a pafewmd noat from that +exolted lady. It ran thus:-- + + +“FBG. ST. HONORE, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. + +“MY DEAR LADY GRIFFIN,--It is an age since we met. Harassing public +duties occupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have scarce time +to see our private friends; among whom, I hope, my dear Lady Griffin +will allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so unceremonious an +invitation, and dine with us at the embassy to-day? We shall be en +petite comite, and shall have the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some of +your charming daughter's singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, to +have addressed a separate, note to dear Miss Griffin; but I hope she +will pardon a poor diplomate, who has so many letters to write, you +know. + +“Farewell till seven, when I POSITIVELY MUST see you both. Ever, dearest +Lady Griffin, your affectionate + +“ELIZA BOBTAIL.” + + +Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's Shassure, and +sealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody in the middling ranx +of life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with delight; and, long before my +master's arrivle, she'd sent Mortimer and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, +along with a polite reply in the affummatiff. + +Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt that there +was somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, though he could not tell +how, was sure that some danger was near him. That old fox of a father of +his had begun his M'Inations pretty early! + +Deuceace handed back the letter; sneared, and poohd, and hinted that +such an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a pees ally); +and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent because Lady Bobtail +wanted to fill up two spare places at her table. But Lady Griffin and +Miss would not have his insinwations; they knew too fu lords ever to +refuse an invitatium from any one of them. Go they would; and poor +Deuceace must dine alone. After they had been on their ride, and had had +their other amusemince, master came back with them, chatted, and laft; +he was mighty sarkastix with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss; +and left them both in high sperrits to perform their twollet, before +dinner. + +As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the house), +as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw master very +quietly taking his pocket-book (or pot fool, as the French call it) and +thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the sofa. What game is this? +thinx I. + +Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the ladies were +gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of his potfolio; +and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it there. + +“Pray,” says he, on going in, “ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for a +single moment.” And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy to +see him. + +“Law, Mr. Deuceace!” says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she +could, “you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really, +being alone, to admit a gentleman.” + +“Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here for +a double purpose--to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may, +perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will have the great +goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice +tea?” + +NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had eaten +a morsle of dinner! + +Never mind: down to tea they sat. “Do you take cream and sugar, dear +sir?” says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff. + +“Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!” answers master; who stowed in a power of +sashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman. + +I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master and +this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to +talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to find +out from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at +once which of the two Griffinses he should marry. + +The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In +a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, “turned her +inside out.” He knew everything that she knew; and that, poar creature, +was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, +in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies +signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly +divided betwigst them. + +NINE THOUSAND A YEAR! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his heart +beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be master +of five thousand per hannum! + +Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? All the +tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and Deuceace +thought it a pity that he could not marry both. + + . . . . . . + +The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception at +the ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin drive +on with a gentlemin who had handed them out--a stout old gentlemin, who +shook hands most tenderly at parting, and promised to call often upon my +Lady Griffin. He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the stairs with +her ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. “Edward,” says she to +the coachmin, quite loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotel +should hear her, “you will take the carriage, and drive HIS LORDSHIP +home.” Now, can you guess who his lordship was? The Right Hon. the +Earl of Crabs, to be sure; the very old genlmn whom I had seen on such +charming terms with his son the day before. Master knew this the nex +day, and began to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousand +pound. + +Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's only came +to my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, word for +word, as they was told me by the very genlmn who waited behind Lord +Crabseses chair. + +There was only a “petty comity” at dinner, as Lady Bobtail said; and my +Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Griffinses, being mighty ellygant +and palite to both. “Allow me,” says he to Lady G. (between the soop and +the fish), “my dear madam, to thank you--fervently thank you for your +goodness to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, but, +I am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which must +fill a fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his child. Believe +me,” says my lord, looking her full and tenderly in the face, “that the +favors you have done to another have been done equally to myself, and +awaken in my bosom the same grateful and affectionate feelings with +which you have already inspired my son Algernon.” + +Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell into her +fish-plate: and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as she would so +many musharuins. My lord (whose powers of slack-jaw was notoarious) nex +addrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceace +was SITUATED. Miss blusht--what a happy dog he was--Miss blusht crimson, +and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and lobster +sos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless you! he was no moar +equill to the old man than a mole-hill is to a mounting. Before the +night was over, he had made as much progress as another man would in a +ear. One almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked +leering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, +and, above all, the bewtific, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of his +genral conservation. Praps you will say that these ladies were, for such +rich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated; but recklect, my dear sir, that +they were fresh from Injar,--that they'd not sean many lords,--that +they adoared the peeridge, as every honest woman does in England who has +proper feelinx, and has read the fashnabble novvles,--and that here at +Paris was their fust step into fashnabble sosiaty. + +Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing “Die tantie,” or “Dip +your chair,” or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs (when she began +this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets hold of Lady +Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a very different +strane. + +“What a blessing it is for us all,” says he, “that Algernon has found a +friend so respectable as your ladyship.” + +“Indeed, my lord; and why? I suppose I am not the only respectable +friend that Mr. Deuceace has?” + +“No, surely; not the only one he HAS HAD: his birth, and, permit me to +say, his relationship to myself, have procured him many. But--” (here my +lord heaved a very affecting and large sigh). + +“But what?” says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal face. +“You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them or is unworthy of them?” + +“I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, thoughtless, +extravagant, and embarrassed: and you know a man under these +circumstances is not very particular as to his associates.” + +“Embarrassed? Good heavens! He says he has two thousand a year left him +by a god-mother; and he does not seem even to spend his income--a very +handsome independence, too, for a bachelor.” + +My lord nodded his head sadly, and said,--“Will your ladyship give me +your word of honor to be secret? My son has but a thousand a year, which +I allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, madam, I fear; +and for this reason I am so glad to hear that he is in a respectable +domestic circle, where he may learn, in the presence of far greater and +purer attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which has +been his bane.” + +My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was Deuceace +sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper wooing her +for her money? Could she doubt her informer? his own father, and, what's +more, a real flesh and blood pear of parlyment? She determined she would +try him. Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, until +she kem to feel how much she should HATE him if she found he'd been +playing her false. + +The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen,--my lord +driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking up +stairs to their own apartmince. + +Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, and +evidently full of a secret,--something mighty pleasant, to judge from +her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies +(for in that house they took a cup regular before bedtime), “Well, my +lady,” says she, “who do you think has been to drink tea with me?” Poar +thing, a frendly face was a event in her life--a tea-party quite a hera! + +“Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid,” says my lady, looking grave. “I wish, +Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics. +Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin.” + +“No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome +gentleman, too.” + +“Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then,” says Miss; “he promised to bring +me some guitar-strings.” + +“No, nor yet M. de l'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to ask +for me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. Algernon +Deuceace;” and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, and +looked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin. + +“Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?” says my lady, who recklected all +that his exlent pa had been saying to her. + +“Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the +second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, and +stayed with me an hour, or moar.” + +“And pray, Miss Kicksey,” said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, “what +may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. Algernon? Did +you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics?” Miss M. +being what was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are), +always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects. + +“No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know, +Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about the +weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked +best; and then we talked” (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) “about poor +dear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he was, and--” + +“What a good fortune he left, eh, Miss Kicksey?” says my lady, with a +hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. + +“Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband, +and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming to +hear him, dear man!” + +“And pray, Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him?” + +“Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year, and--” + +“What then?” + +“Why, nothing; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had ninety,” says +poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. + +“Ninety fiddlesticks! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the money was left, +and to which of us?” + +“Yes; but I could not tell him.” + +“I knew it!” says my lady, slapping down her tea-cup,--“I knew it!” + +“Well!” says Miss Matilda, “and why not, Lady Griffin? There is no +reason you should break your tea-cup, because Algernon asks a harmless +question. HE is not mercenary; he is all candor, innocence, generosity! +He is himself blessed with a sufficient portion of the world's goods to +be content; and often and often has he told me he hoped the woman of his +choice might come to him without a penny, that he might show the purity +of his affection.” + +“I've no doubt,” says my lady. “Perhaps the lady of his choice is Miss +Matilda Griffin!” and she flung out of the room, slamming the door, and +leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, as was her reglar custom, and +pour her loves and woas into the buzzom of Miss Kicksey. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +“HITTING THE NALE ON THE HEDD.” + + +The nex morning, down came me and master to Lady Griffinses,--I amusing +myself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying his devours to the +ladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming on her gitter; my lady was +before a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers' books, +lawyers' letters, and what not. Law bless us! it's a kind of bisniss I +should like well enuff; especially when my hannual account was seven or +eight thousand on the right side, like my lady's. My lady in this house +kep all these matters to herself. Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentle +to mind business. + +Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in; she pinted gracefully to +a place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. My lady only looked +up for a moment, smiled very kindly, and down went her head among the +papers agen, as busy as a B. + +“Lady Griffin has had letters from London,” says Miss, “from nasty +lawyers and people. Come here and sit by me, you naughty man you!” + +And down sat master. “Willingly,” says he, “my dear Miss Griffin; why, I +declare, it is quits a tete-a-tete.” + +“Well,” says Miss (after the prillimnary flumries, in coarse), “we met a +friend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace.” + +“My father, doubtless; he is a great friend of the ambassador, and +surprised me myself by a visit the night before last.” + +“What a dear delightful old man! how he loves you, Mr. Deuceace!” + +“Oh, amazingly!” says master, throwing his i's to heaven. + +“He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you!” + +Master breathed more freely. “He is very good, my dear father; but +blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached to me.” + +“He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you were +not his eldest son. 'I can but leave him the small portion of a younger +brother,' he said; 'but never mind, he has talents, a noble name, and an +independence of his own.'” + +“An independence? yes, oh yes; I am quite independent of my father.” + +“Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother; the very same +you told us you know.” + +“Neither more nor less,” says master, bobbing his head; “a sufficiency, +my dear Miss Griffin,--to a man of my moderate habits an ample +provision.” + +“By-the-by,” cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the conversation, “you +who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to the +aid of poor ME! Come, naughty boy, and help me out with this long long +sum.” + +DIDN'T HE GO--that's all! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt across +the room, and seated himself by my lady! + +“Look!” said she, “my agents write me over that they have received a +remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. a rupee. Do tell me what the sum +is, in pounds and shillings;” which master did with great gravity. + +“Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good; I daresay you are right. I'm sure +I can't go through the fatigue to see. And now comes another question. +Whose money is this, mine or Matilda's? You see it is the interest of a +sum in India, which we have not had occasion to touch; and, according to +the terms of poor Sir George's will, I really don't know how to dispose +of the money except to spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it?” + +“La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business yourself.” + +“Well, then, Algernon, YOU tell me;” and she laid her hand on his and +looked him most pathetickly in the face. + +“Why,” says he, “I don't know how Sir George left his money; you must +let me see his will, first.” + +“Oh, willingly.” + +Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns; he was +obliged to HOLD HIMSELF DOWN. + +“Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir George's own +manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not employ lawyers much, and this +was written on the night before going into action.” And she read, “'I, +George Griffin,' &c. &c.--you know how these things begin--'being now of +sane mind'--um, um, um,--'leave to my friends, Thomas Abraham Hicks, +a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, and to John Monro +Mackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, at +Calcutta), the whole of my property, to be realized as speedily as they +may (consistently with the interests of the property), in trust for +my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only +legitimate child, Matilda Griffin. The interest resulting from such +property to be paid to them, share and share alike; the principal +to remain untouched, in the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. +Mackirkincroft, until the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, when +it shall be paid to my daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors, +or assigns.'” + +“There,” said my lady, “we won't read any more; all the rest is stuff. +But now you know the whole business, tell us what is to be done with the +money?” + +“Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided between you.” + +“Tant mieux, say I; I really thought it had been all Matilda's.” + + . . . . . . + +There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been read. Master +left the desk at which he had been seated with her ladyship, paced up +and down the room for a while, and then came round to the place where +Miss Matilda was seated. At last he said, in a low, trembling voice,-- + +“I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have read that will +to me; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear, mercenary, +when the object of it is so greatly favored by worldly fortune. Miss +Griffin--Matilda! I know I may say the word; your dear eyes grant me the +permission. I need not tell you, or you, dear mother-in-law, how long, +how fondly, I have adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will +not affect to say I have not read your heart ere this, and that I have +not known the preference with which you have honored me. SPEAK IT, +dear girl! from your own sweet lips: in the presence of an affectionate +parent, utter the sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. +Matilda, dearest Matilda! say, oh say, that you love me!” + +Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell on +master's neck, whispering hodibly, “I DO!” + +My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth grinding, her i's +glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white; for all the world +like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of “Mydear” (when she's goin to mudder +her childring, you recklect); and out she flounced from the room, +without a word, knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near the +dor, and leaving my master along with his crook-back mistress. + +I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, I got +it in a ruff copy; only on the copy it's wrote, “Lady Griffin, Leonora!” + instead of “Miss Griffin, Matilda,” as in the abuff, and so on. + +Master had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thought: but his +adventors an't over yet. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GRIFFIN'S CLAWS. + + +Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time: thanx to +luck--the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the GOOLD NOBB, which +was the part Deuceace most valued, as well he should; being a connyshure +as to the relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much preferring +virging goold like this to poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin. + +And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace now +snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas, had +never stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idleness, +extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all kinds (which an't +GENERALLY very favorable to a young man who has to make his way in the +world); in spite of all, there he was, I say, at the topp of the trea, +the fewcher master of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of a +fool of a wife. What can mortial man want more? Vishns of ambishn now +occupied his soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full; +hunters at Melton; a seat in the house of Commins: heaven knows what! +and not a poar footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, in +cors, pennytrate into the idears and the busms of men. + +You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick now +from the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; and now, +nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in they came, +till my pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried 'em out) was +puffickly intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, and +other sense with which they were impregniated. Here's the contense +of three on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty years as +skeewriosities. Faw! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as I am copying +them down. + + +BILLY DOO. No. I. + +“Monday morning, 2 o'clock. + +“'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber, and falls +upon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing these words to +thee, my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my soul's lord! when shall +the time come when the tedious night shall not separate us, nor the +blessed day? Twelve! one! two! I have heard the bells chime, and the +quarters, and never cease to think of my husband. My adored Percy, +pardon the girlish confession,--I have kissed the letter at this place. +Will thy lips press it too, and remain for a moment on the spot which +has been equally saluted by your + +“MATILDA?” + + +This was the FUST letter, and was brot to our house by one of the poar +footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning. I thot it was +for life and death, and woak master at that extraornary hour, and gave +it to him. I shall never forgit him, when he red it; he cramped it up, +and he cust and swoar, applying to the lady who roat, the genlmn that +brought it, and me who introjuiced it to his notice such a collection of +epitafs as I seldum hered, excep at Billinxgit. The fact is thiss; for a +fust letter, miss's noat was RATHER too strong and sentymentle. But that +was her way; she was always reading melancholy stoary books--“Thaduse of +Wawsaw,” the “Sorrows of MacWhirter,” and such like. + +After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them, but handid them +over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be answered, +in order to kip up appearuntses. The next letter is + + +No. II. + +“BELOVED! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one! Lady Griffin, +since your avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your poor Matilda; +has declared that she will admit no one (heigho! not even you, my +Algernon); and has locked herself in her own dressing-room. I do believe +that she is JEALOUS, and fancies that you were in love with HER! Ha, ha! +I could have told her ANOTHER TALE--n'est-ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu! A +thousand thousand million kisses! + +“M. G. + +“Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock.” + + +There was another letter kem before bedtime; for though me and master +called at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter at no price. Mortimer +and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to say we were going to be +relations; but I don't spose master was very sorry when he was obleached +to come back without seeing the fare objict of his affeckshns. + +Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game; ditto on Wensday; only, when +we called there, who should we see but our father, Lord Crabs, who was +waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying HE SHOULD BE BACK TO DINNER +AT 7, just as me and master came up the stares. There was no admittns +for us though. “Bah! bah! never mind,” says my lord, taking his +son affeckshnately by the hand. “What, two strings to your bow; ay, +Algernon? The dowager a little jealous, miss a little lovesick. But my +lady's fit of anger will vanish, and I promise you, my boy, that you +shall see your fair one to-morrow.” + +And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking at him as +tender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as posbill. Master +did not know what to think of it. He never new what game his old father +was at; only he somehow felt that he had got his head in a net, in spite +of his suxess on Sunday. I knew it--I knew it quite well, as soon as I +saw the old genlmn igsammin him by a kind of smile which came over his +old face, and was somethink betwigst the angellic and the direbollicle. + +But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every thing was bright +again. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath of witch I +here copy:-- + + +No. IX. + +“Thursday morning. + +“Victoria, Victoria! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to our +union, but her consent to receive you as before; and has promised +to forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever think of you as +anything but the lover of your Matilda? I am in a whirl of delicious +joy and passionate excitement. I have been awake all this long night, +thinking of thee, my Algernon, and longing for the blissful hour of +meeting. + +“Come! M. G.” + + +This is the inclosier from my lady:-- + + +“I will not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply shock +me. I had been foolish enough to think of other plans, and to fancy your +heart (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere than on one at whose foibles +you have often laughed with me, and whose person at least cannot have +charmed you. + +“My step-daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least going +through the ceremony of asking my consent; I cannot, as yet, give it. +Have I not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in trusting herself +to you? + +“But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house all +those who may be agreeable to her,--certainly you, who are likely to be +one day so nearly connected with her. If I have honest reason to believe +that your love for Miss Griffin is sincere; if I find in a few months +that you yourself are still desirous to marry her, I can, of course, +place no further obstacles in your way. + +“You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise to +receive you as I did of old; you would despise me if I did. I can +promise, however, to think no more of all that has passed between +us, and yield up my own happiness for that of the daughter of my dear +husband. + +“L. E. G.” + + +Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and natral +from a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated most scuvvily? +Master thought so, and went and made a tender, respeckful speach to Lady +Griffin (a little flumry costs nothink). Grave and sorroflle he kist her +hand, and, speakin in a very low adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witness +how he deplord that his conduct should ever have given rise to such an +unfornt ideer; but if he might offer her esteem, respect, the warmest +and tenderest admiration, he trusted she would accept the same, and a +deal moar flumry of the kind, with dark, sollum glansis of the eyes, and +plenty of white pockit-hankercher. + +He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool! he was in a net--sich a net as +I never yet see set to ketch a roag in. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE JEWEL. + + +The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my last, +who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming it so +very strong, now came back to his old place by the side of Lady Griffin: +there was no love now, though, betwigst him and master, although the +shevallier had got his lady back agin; Deuceace being compleatly devoted +to his crookid Veanus. + +The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt creature; and I +shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the heart to do +harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious tiger and +fire-eater as my master. But I see putty well, after a week, from his +manner of going on--of speakin at master, and lookin at him, and olding +his lips tight when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him with +his i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy. + +Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him: hated him wuss +than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in-law. Praps +you phansy that the letter you have juss red was honest; praps you +amadgin that the sean of the reading of the will came on by mere chans, +and in the reglar cors of suckmstansies: it was all a GAME, I tell +you--a reglar trap; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, as +neatly put his foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve. + +The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off the +feald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender than +befor. Por fellow, por fellow! he really loved this woman. He might as +well have foln in love with a bore-constructor! He was so blinded and +beat by the power wich she had got over him, that if she told him black +was white he'd beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'd +do it: she wanted something very like it, I can tell you. + +I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, master +used to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. The little +creature had a thowsnd of these; and being small, and a Frenchman, +master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humored kind of contemp +which a good Brittn ot always to show. He rayther treated him like an +intelligent munky than a man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean my +lady's footman. + +All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl betwigst +master and Lady Griffin; when that lady took care to turn the tables. +Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've heard the servants +say), she used to laff at shevalliay for his obeajance and sivillatty +to master. For her part, she wondered how a man of his birth could act +a servnt: how any man could submit to such contemsheous behavior from +another; and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at him +behind his back; how, in fact, he ought to hate him corjaly, and how it +was suttaly time to show his sperrit. + +Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was angry +or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. There got +to be frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words flung at each +other across the dinner-table; dispewts about handing ladies their +smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge; or going in and out of +a roam fust, or any such nonsince. + +“For hevn's sake,” I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these tiffs, +say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, “do, do be calm, Mr. +Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him. You are, +both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family, that for its +peace as well as your own, you should forbear to quarrel.” + +It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, and +it ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never forgit poar +little De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady said “both of you.” He stair'd +at my lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, going +round to master, shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr. +Deuceace only bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately; Miss +heaved a loud O from her busm, and looked up in his face with an +igspreshn jest as if she could have eat him up with love; and the little +shevalliay sate down to his soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest +if he wasn't crying! He thought the widdow had made her declyration, and +would have him; and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time +mighty bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking with Miss. + +Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might have +done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her marrying +anybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this confision +which she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the French shevaleer. + +And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, that +when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag: you find him out at onst +when he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his cloven foot the +very instnt you tread on it. At least, this is what YOUNG roags do; it +requires very cool blood and long practis to get over this pint, and not +to show your pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. Old +Crabs wouldn't do it; being like another noblemin, of whom I heard the +Duke of Wellington say, while waiting behind his graci's chair, that if +you were kicking him from behind, no one standing before him would know +it, from the bewtifle smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't +got so far in the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. +And it's also to be remarked (a very profownd observatin for a footmin, +but we have i's though we DO wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked, +I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angry than another, +because honest men yield to other people, roags never do; honest men +love other people, roags only themselves; and the slightest thing which +comes in the way of thir beloved objects sets them fewrious. Master +hadn't led a life of gambling, swindling, and every kind of debotch to +be good-tempered at the end of it, I prommis you. + +He was in a pashun, and when he WAS in a pashn, a more insalent, +insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. + +This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him; for I must +tell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set master +and the shevalliay by the years, she had suxeaded only so far as to +make them hate each profowndly: but somehow or other, the 2 cox wouldn't +FIGHT. + +I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of her +ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls which +daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to come +from her; on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker between +them, as I've just shown in the tiff which took place at the door of +the Sally Mangy. Besides, the 2 young men, though reddy enough to snarl, +were natrally unwilling to come to bloes. I'll tell you why: being +friends, and idle, they spent their mornins as young fashnabbles +genrally do, at billiads, fensing, riding, pistle-shooting, or some such +improoving study. In billiads, master beat the Frenchman hollow (and +had won a pretious sight of money from him: but that's neither here nor +there, or, as the French say, ontry noo); at pistle-shooting, master +could knock down eight immidges out of ten, and De l'Orge seven; and in +fensing, the Frenchman could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry one +of his weskit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than onst, for +every Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd to do so in the +cors of his bisniss; and knowing each other's curridg, as well as the +fact that either could put a hundrid bolls running into a hat at 30 +yards, they wairnt very willing to try such exparrymence upon their own +hats with their own heads in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only +grould at each other. + +But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers; and when +in this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said that he walked +away from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in his sudden bust +of joyfle good-humor; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, +so very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and hotty, and, +taking his seat at table, no moor mindid the brandishments of Miss +Griffin, but only replied to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us +servnts, or abuse of the soop, or the wine; cussing and swearing like a +trooper, and not like a well-bred son of a noble British peer. + +“Will your ladyship,” says he, slivering off the wing of a pully ally +bashymall, “allow me to help you?” + +“I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge.” And towards +that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile. + +“Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de l'Orge's +carving. You used to like mine once.” + +“You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will partake +of something a little simpler.” + +The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy. +A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandrewed +down his shert-collar and virging-white weskit. + +“Confound you!” says he, “M. de l'Orge, you have done this on purpose.” + And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler of wine, a deal +of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready to +cry. + +My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the best +joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. “Pardong,” says he; +“meal pardong, mong share munseer.” * And he looked as if he would have +done it again for a penny. + + * In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to + change the peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush. + +The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of a +suddn at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned against +his rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in English +to take a glass of wine. + +“Veal you,” says he, in his jargin, “take a glas of Madere viz me, mi +ladi?” And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English manner +and pronunciation. + +“With the greatest pleasure,” says Lady G., most graciously nodding at +him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused master +before, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer. + +Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, making +himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; and +my lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing every +think to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came: and by +this time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy +with pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with +smiles and master bloo with rage. + +“Mr. Deuceace,” says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a little +chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), “may I trouble +you for a few of those grapes? they look delicious.” + +For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it sliding +down the table to De l'Orge; upsetting, in his way, fruit-plates, +glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what. + +“Monsieur de l'Orge,” says he, shouting out at the top of his voice, +“have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted MY grapes long ago, +and has found out they are sour!” + + . . . . . . + +There was a dead paws of a moment or so. + + . . . . . . + +“Ah!” says my lady, “vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans ma +propre maison--c'est par trop fort, monsieur.” And up she got, and flung +out of the room. Miss followed her, screeching out, “Mamma--for God's +sake--Lady Griffin!” and here the door slammed on the pair. + +Her ladyship did very well to speak French. DE L'ORGE WOULD NOT HAVE +UNDERSTOOD HER ELSE; as it was he heard quite enough; and as the +door clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer and +Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master, and hits +him a slap on the face, and says, “prends ca, menteur et lache!” which +means, “Take that, you liar and coward!”--rayther strong igspreshns for +one genlmn to use to another. + +Master staggered back and looked bewildered; and then he gave a kind +of a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then me and +Mortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence embraced the +shevalliay. + +“A demain!” says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away, not +very sorry to git off. + +When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master: who swallowed +a goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pullout his pus, he +presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. “I will +give you five more to-morrow,” says he, “if you will promise to keep +this secrit.” + +And then he walked in to the ladies. “If you knew,” says he, going up +to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at the +keyhole), “the pain I have endured in the last minute, in consequence of +the rudeness and insolence of which I have been guilty to your ladyship, +you would think my own remorse was punishment sufficient, and would +grant me pardon.” + +My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. Deuceace +was her daughter's guest, and not hers; but she certainly would never +demean herself by sitting again at table with him. And so saying out she +boltid again. + +“Oh! Algernon! Algernon!” says Miss, in teers, “what is this dreadful +mystery--these fearful shocking quarrels? Tell me, has anything +happened? Where, where is the chevalier?” + +Master smiled and said, “Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. De +l'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute; he was too much in +love for that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe; and will +return to coffee.” + +I knew what master's game was, for if miss had got a hinkling of the +quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her screeming +at the “Hotel Mirabeu,” and the juice and all to pay. He only stopt +for a few minnits and cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend, +Captain Bullseye, of the Rifles; with whom, I spose, he talked over this +unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De l'Orge, saying +where his secknd was to be seen. + +Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's Messinger, +which I hear beg leaf to transcribe:-- + + +“FEARFUL DUEL.--Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took place, +in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D--ce-ce, a younger son +of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de l'O---. The chevalier was +attended by Major de M---, of the Royal Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D--- +by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far as we have been +able to learn the particulars of this deplorable affair, the dispute +originated in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliant +ornaments of our embassy), and the duel took place on the morning +ensuing. + +“The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateur +swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and the +combat took place with pistols. + +“The combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to advance +to a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each was furnished +with two pistols. Monsieur de l'O--- fired almost immediately, and the +ball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, who dropped the +pistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directly with his +right, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A +ball has entered above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope that +he can recover. + +“We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow which +the chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is some +reason for the unusual and determined manner in which the duel was +fought. + +“Mr. Deu--a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, the +Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sad +news, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate parental +attention. The news only reached his lordship yesterday at noon, while +at breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The noble +earl fainted on receiving the intelligence; but in spite of the shock to +his own nerves and health, persisted in passing last night by the couch +of his son.” + + +And so he did. “This is a sad business, Charles,” says my lord to me, +after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. “Have you +any segars in the house? And hark ye, send me up a bottle of wine and +some luncheon. I can certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dear +boy.” + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE CONSQUINSIES. + + +The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own accord, in +the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which was brot on by the +wound. He was kept in bed for 6 weeks though, and did not recover for a +long time after. + +As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of his +advisary. Inflammation came on too; and, to make an ugly story short, +they were obliged to take off his hand at the rist. + +He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was well, and +his wound heel'd; but I never see a man look so like a devvle as he used +sometimes, when he looked down at the stump! + +To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd him the mor. She +sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her beloved, her +unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. I've kep some of the +noats, as I tell you, and curiously sentimentle they are, beating the +sorrows of MacWhirter all to nothing. + +Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and seagars +at our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there was an exycution +in his own house in England; and his son was a sure find (as they say) +during his illness, and couldn't deny himself to the old genlmn. His +eveninx my lord spent reglar at Lady Griffin's; where, as master was +ill, I didn't go any more now, and where the shevalier wasn't there to +disturb him. + +“You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace,” says my lord, one day, in +a fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady Griffin: “SHE +HAS NOT DONE WITH YOU YET, I tell you fairly.” + +“Curse her,” says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm--“curse +her! but I will be even with her one day. I am sure of Matilda: I took +care to put that beyond the reach of a failure. The girl must marry me, +for her own sake.” + +“FOR HER OWN SAKE! O ho! Good, good!” My lord lifted his i's, and said +gravely, “I understand, my dear boy: it is an excellent plan.” + +“Well,” says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his exlent old +father, “as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from the fiend of a +step-mother?” + +My lord only gev a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up his hat, +walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Vandome, and go in quite +calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless his old face! +such a puffickly good-natured, kind-hearted, merry, selfish old +scoundrel, I never shall see again. + +His lordship was quite right in saying to master that “Lady Griffin +hadn't done with him.” No moar she had. But she never would have thought +of the nex game she was going to play, IF SOMEBODY HADN'T PUT HER UP TO +IT. Who did? If you red the above passidge, and saw how a venrabble old +genlmn took his hat, and sauntered down the Plas Vandome (looking hard +and kind at all the nussary-maids--buns they call them in France--in +the way), I leave you to guess who was the author of the nex scheam: a +woman, suttnly, never would have pitcht on it. + +In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuceace's adventers, +and his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkins and Blewitt, I had the honor +of laying before the public a skidewl of my master's detts, in witch was +the following itim: + + + “Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s, 4963L. 0s. 0d.” + + +The I.O.U.se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills amountid to +four thowsnd moar. + +Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in England, and +a French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew the Englishman who +has drawn them, even though he should be in France. Master did not know +this fact--laboring under a very common mistak, that, when onst out of +England, he might wissle at all the debts he left behind him. + +My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who made +arrangemints with the persons who possest the fine collection of +ortografs on stampt paper which master had left behind him; and they +were glad enuff to take any oppertunity of getting back their money. + +One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard of our +hotel, talking to the servant-gals, as was my reglar custom, in order to +improve myself in the French languidge, one of them comes up to me and +says, “Tenez, Monsieur Charles, down below in the office there is +a bailiff, with a couple of gendarmes, who is asking for your +master--a-t-il des dettes par hasard?” + +I was struck all of a heap--the truth flasht on my mind's hi. +“Toinette,” says I, for that was the gal's name--“Toinette,” says +I, giving her a kiss, “keep them for two minits, as you valyou my +affeckshn;” and then I gave her another kiss, and ran up stares to our +chambers. Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound, and was +aloud to drive abowt: it was lucky for him that he had the strength to +move. “Sir, sir,” says I, “the bailiffs are after you, and you must run +for your life.” + +“Bailiff?” says he: “nonsense! I don't, thank heaven, owe a shilling to +any man.” + +“Stuff, sir,” says I, forgetting my respeck; “don't you owe money in +England? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will be on you in a +moment.” + +As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the antyshamber, +and there they were sure enough! + +What was to be done? Quick as litening, I throws off my livry coat, +claps my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put on my livry. +Then I wraps myself up in his dressing-gown, and lolling down on the +sofa, bids him open the dor. + +There they were--the bailiff--two jondarms with him--Toinette, and an +old waiter. When Toinette sees master, she smiles, and says: “Dis donc, +Charles! ou est donc ton maitre? Chez lui, n'est-ce pas? C'est le jeune +a monsieur,” says she, curtsying to the bailiff. + +The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, “Mais ce n'est pas!” when +Toinette stops him, and says, “Laissez donc passer ces messieurs, vieux +bete;” and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking their post in the hall. + +Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and touching MY hat +says, “Have you any orders about the cab, sir?” + +“Why, no, Chawls,” says I; “I shan't drive out to-day.” + +The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having had plenty +of English customers), and says in French, as master goes out, “I think, +sir, you had better let your servant get a coach, for I am under the +painful necessity of arresting you, au nom de la loi, for the sum of +ninety-eight thousand seven hundred francs, owed by you to the Sieur +Jacques Francois Lebrun, of Paris;” and he pulls out a number of bills, +with master's acceptances on them sure enough. + +“Take a chair, sir,” says I; and down he sits; and I began to chaff him, +as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, my sad axdent, having +lost one of my hands, which was stuck into my busum, and so on. + +At last, after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and bust out +in a horse laff. + +The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect somethink. +“Hola!” says he; “gendarmes! a moi! a moi! Je suis floue, vole,” which +means, in English, that he was reglar sold. + +The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and the +waiter. Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand from my +dressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck up on the chair one of the +neatest legs ever seen. + +I then pinted majestickly--to what do you think?--to my PLUSH TITES! +those sellabrated inigspressables which have rendered me famous in +Yourope. + +Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts rord out laffing; and +so did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old Grippard the +bailiff looked as if he would faint in his chare. + +I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel-gate, and knew then +that my master was safe. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE END OF MR. DEUCEACE'S HISTORY. LIMBO. + + +My tail is droring rabidly to a close; my suvvice with Mr. Deuceace +didn't continyou very long after the last chapter, in which I described +my admiral strattyjam, and my singlar self-devocean. There's very few +servnts, I can tell you, who'd have thought of such a contrivance, and +very few moar would have eggsycuted it when thought of. + +But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in selling +master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may remember I woar, +and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets,--beyond this, +I say, there was to poar master very little advantich in what had been +done. It's true he had escaped. Very good. But Frans is not like Great +Brittin; a man in a livry coat, with 1 arm, is pretty easily known, and +caught, too, as I can tell you. + +Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moarover, if he +would. What was to become, in that case, of his bride--his unchbacked +hairis? He knew that young lady's temprimong (as the Parishers say) too +well to let her long out of his site. She had nine thousand a yer. +She'd been in love a duzn times befor, and mite be agin. The Honrabble +Algernon Deuceace was a little too wide awake to trust much to the +constnsy of so very inflammable a young creacher. Heavn bless us, it was +a marycle she wasn't earlier married! I do bleave (from suttn seans +that past betwigst us) that she'd have married me, if she hadn't been +sejuiced by the supearor rank and indianuity of the genlmn in whose +survace I was. + +Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. How was he to +manitch? He coodn get away from his debts, and he wooden quit the fare +objict of his affeckshns. He was ableejd, then, as the French say, to +lie perdew,--going out at night, like a howl out of a hivy-bush, and +returning in the daytime to his roast. For its a maxum in France (and I +wood it were followed in Ingland), that after dark no man is lible for +his detts; and in any of the royal gardens--the Twillaries, the Pally +Roil, or the Lucksimbug, for example--a man may wander from sunrise to +evening, and hear nothing of the ojus dunns: they an't admitted into +these places of public enjyment and rondyvoo any more than dogs; the +centuries at the garden-gates having orders to shuit all such. + +Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation--neither liking to go +nor to stay! peeping out at nights to have an interview with his miss; +ableagd to shuffle off her repeated questions as to the reason of all +this disgeise, and to talk of his two thowsnd a year jest as if he had +it and didn't owe a shilling in the world. + +Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch. + +He roat as many noats as she had done befor; swoar against delay and +cerymony; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, the ardship that the ardor +of two arts should be allowed to igspire, the folly of waiting for the +consent of Lady Griffin. She was but a step-mother, and an unkind one. +Miss was (he said) a major, might marry whom she liked; and suttnly had +paid Lady G. quite as much attention as she ought, by paying her the +compliment to ask her at all. + +And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when master was pressed +about his cause for not coming out till night-time, he was misterus; +and Miss Griffin, when asked why she wooden marry, igsprest, or rather, +DIDN'T igspress, a simlar secrasy. Wasn't it hard? the cup seemed to be +at the lip of both of 'em, and yet somehow, they could not manitch to +take a drink. + +But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote by my master +over night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer from his soal's beluffd, +which ran thus:-- + + +MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + +“DEAREST,--You say you would share a cottage with me; there is no need, +luckily, for that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits at +our delayed union. Beloved, do you think MY heart rejoices at our +separation? You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady Griffin, and tell +me that I owe her no further duty. + +“Adored Algernon! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to lose a +single chance of reconciliation with this unnatural step-mother. Respect +for the memory of my sainted father bid me do all in my power to gain +her consent to my union with you: nay, shall I own it? prudence dictated +the measure; for to whom should she leave the share of money accorded to +her by my father's will but to my father's child. + +“But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go; and, thank +heaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid wealth: we +have a competency without her. Is it not so, dearest Algernon? + +“Be it as you wish, then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor Matilda +has yielded to you her heart long ago; she has no longer need to keep +back her name. Name the hour, and I will delay no more; but seek for +refuge in your arms from the contumely and insult which meet me ever +here. + +“MATILDA. + +“P.S. Oh, Algernon! if you did but know what a noble part your dear +father has acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to further +our plans, and to soften Lady Griffin! It is not his fault that she is +inexorable as she is. I send you a note sent by her to Lord Crabs; we +will laugh at it soon, n'est-ce pas?” + + +II. + +“MY LORD,--In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in favor of +your son, Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat what I before have +been under the necessity of stating to you,--that I do not believe a +union with a person of Mr. Deuceace's character would conduce to my +stepdaughter's happiness, and therefore REFUSE MY CONSENT. I will +beg you to communicate the contents of this note to Mr. Deuceace; and +implore you no more to touch upon a subject which you must be aware is +deeply painful to me. + +“I remain your lordship's most humble servant, + +“L. E. GRIFFIN. + +“THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS.” + + +“Hang her ladyship!” says my master, “what care I for it?” As for the +old lord who'd been so afishous in his kindness and advice, master +recknsiled that pretty well, with thinking that his lordship knew he was +going to marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to get some share of +it; for he roat back the following letter to his father, as well as a +flaming one to Miss: + + +“Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awkward business. +You know how painfully I am situated just now, and can pretty well guess +BOTH THE CAUSES of my disquiet. A marriage with my beloved Matilda will +make me the happiest of men. The dear girl consents, and laughs at +the foolish pretensions of her mother-in-law. To tell you the truth, I +wonder she yielded to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, +and find for us a parson, a license, and make us two into one. We are +both major, you know; so that the ceremony of a guardian's consent is +unnecessary. + +“Your affectionate + +“ALGERNON DEUCEACE. + +“How I regret that difference between us some time back! Matters are +changed now, and shall be more still AFTER THE MARRIAGE.” + + +I knew what my master meant,--that he would give the old lord the money +after he was married; and as it was probble that miss would see the +letter he roat, he made it such as not to let her see two clearly into +his present uncomfrable situation. + +I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, reading both +of 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, gave an +inegspressable look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, and +prest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then they +fell a-talking together; and told me to wait awhile, and I should git an +anser. + +After a deal of counseltation, my lord brought out a card, and there was +simply written on it, + + + To-morrow, at the Ambassador's, at Twelve. + + +“Carry that back to your master, Chawls,” says he, “and bid him not to +fail.” + +You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave him the card +and the messinge. Master looked sattasfied with both; but suttnly +not over happy; no man is the day before his marridge; much more his +marridge with a hump-back, Harriss though she be. + +Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did what every +man in such suckmstances ought to do; he made his will,--that is, he +made a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to his creditors +telling them of his lucky chance; and that after his marridge he would +sutnly pay them every stiver. BEFORE, they must know his povvaty well +enough to be sure that paymint was out of the question. + +To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing that was +right, now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenients to do so. + +“Chawls,” says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, “here's your wagis, +and thank you for getting me out of the scrape with the bailiffs: when +you are married, you shall be my valet out of liv'ry, and I'll treble +your salary.” + +His vallit! praps his butler! Yes, thought I, here's a chance--a vallit +to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave him, and read his +notes, and let my whiskers grow; to dress in spick and span black, and a +clean shut per day; muffings every night in the housekeeper's room; the +pick of the gals in the servants' hall; a chap to clean my boots for me, +and my master's opera bone reglar once a week. I knew what a vallit was +as well as any genlmn in service; and this I can tell you, he's genrally +a hapier, idler, handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his master. He +has more money to spend, for genlmn WILL leave their silver in their +waistcoat pockets; more suxess among the gals; as good dinners, and +as good wine--that is, if he's friends with the butler: and friends in +corse they will be if they know which way their interest lies. + +But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call shutter +d'Espang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr. +Deuceace's vallit. + +Days will pass at last--even days befor a wedding, (the longist and +unpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you, excep, +may be, the day before his hanging); and at length Aroarer dawned on +the suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds of Hyming the +Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss Matilda Griffin. My +master's wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had been; for he'd left the +whole of his nicknax and trumpry of dressing-cases and rob dy shams, his +bewtifle museum of varnished boots, his curous colleckshn of Stulz and +Staub coats, when he had been ableaged to quit so suddnly our pore dear +lodginx at the Hotel Mirabew; and being incog at a friend's house, +ad contentid himself with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a +common tailor, with a suffishnt quantaty of linning. + +Well, he put on the best of his coats--a blue; and I thought it my duty +to ask him whether he'd want his frock again: he was good natured and +said, “Take it and be hanged to you.” Half-past eleven o'clock came, +and I was sent to look out at the door, if there were any suspicious +charicters (a precious good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I can +tell you, and an i which will almost see one round a corner); and +presenly a very modest green glass coach droave up, and in master +stept. I didn't in corse, appear on the box; because, being known, my +appearints might have compromised master. But I took a short cut, and +walked as quick as posbil down to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, where +his exlnsy the English ambasdor lives, and where marridges are always +performed betwigst English folk at Paris. + + . . . . . . + +There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, of +that lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine-houses; and jest +as master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach drove off, out of +which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well,--suffiz, that one had +a humpback, and the ingenious reader will know why SHE came there; the +other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. + +Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards of +the door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gits coachmin +to open the door, and comes I to give Mr. Deuceace an arm, when out +of the cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up betwigst the coach and +embassy-doar; two other chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, +opening it, one says--“Rendez-vous, M. Deuceace! Je vous arrete au nom +de la loi!” (which means, “Get out of that, Mr. D.; you are nabbed and +no mistake.”) Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side +of the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and +was for making off that way; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigst +libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, +“Fouettez, cocher!” (which means, “Go it, coachmm!”) in a despert loud +voice; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. + +The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the door +two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all; I knew my duty, and +so very mornfly I got up behind. + +“Tiens,” says one of the chaps in the street; “c'est ce drole qui nous a +floure l'autre jour.” I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to smile. + +“Ou irons-nous donc?” says coachmin to the genlmn who had got inside. + +A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the coachmin, “A +SAINTE PELAGIE!” + + . . . . . . + +And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the prizn of +Sainte Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or Queen's Bentch: but on +this subject I'm rather shy of writing, partly because the admiral Boz +has, in the history of Mr. Pickwick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, +that mine wooden read very amyousingly afterwids; and, also, because, +to tell you the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer to +waist my igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such a dull +place. + +My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat from master +to his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken aback, as I can +tell you, when she found, after remaining two hours at the Embassy, that +her husband didn't make his appearance. And so, after staying on and on, +and yet seeing no husband, she was forsed at last to trudge dishconslit +home, where I was already waiting for her with a letter from my master. + +There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he confest +it at onst: but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery of a friend, +infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. However, it didn't matter much; +if he had told her that he had been betrayed by the man in the moon, she +would have bleavd him. + +Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She kep one +drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another; they quarld so +much that praps it was best they should live apart; only my Lord Crabs +used to see both, comforting each with that winning and innsnt way he +had. He came in as Miss, in tears, was lisning to my account of master's +seazure, and hoping that the prisn wasn't a horrid place, with a nasty +horrid dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, and nasty horrid bread and water. +Law bless us! she had borrod her ideers from the novvles she had been +reading! + +“O my lord, my lord,” says she, “have you heard this fatal story?” + +“Dearest Matilda, what? For heaven's sake, you alarm me! +What--yes--no--is it--no, it can't be! Speak!” says my lord, seizing me +by the choler of my coat. “What has happened to my boy?” + +“Please you, my lord,” says I, “he's at this moment in prisn, no +wuss,--having been incarserated about two hours ago.” + +“In prison! Algernon in prison! 'tis impossible! Imprisoned, for what +sum? Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing in my power.” + +“I'm sure your lordship is very kind,” says I (recklecting the sean +betwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a thowsand +lb.); “and you'll be happy to hear he's only in for a trifle. Five +thousand pound is, I think, pretty near the mark.” + +“Five thousand pounds!--confusion!” says my lord, clasping his hands, +and looking up to heaven, “and I have not five hundred! Dearest Matilda, +how shall we help him?” + +“Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know how Lady Griffin +has the--” + +“Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say; but be of good +cheer--Algernon, you know, has ample funds of his own.” + +Thinking my lord meant Dawkins's five thousand, of which, to be sure, a +good lump was left, I held my tung; but I cooden help wondering at Lord +Crabs's igstream compashn for his son, and Miss, with her 10,000L. a +year, having only 3 guineas is her pockit. + +I took home (bless us, what a home!) a long and very inflamble letter +from Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the disappointment; +swoar she lov'd him only the moar for his misfortns; made light of them; +as a pusson for a paltry sum of five thousand pound ought never to be +cast down, 'specially as he had a certain independence in view; and +vowed that nothing, nothing, should ever injuice her to part from him, +etsettler, etsettler. + +I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst me and my +lord, and of his handsome offers, and his horrow at hearing of his son's +being taken; and likewise mentioned how strange it was that Miss should +only have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn: bless us, I should have thot +that she would always have carried a hundred thowsnd lb. in her pockit! + +At this master only said Pshaw! But the rest of the story about his +father seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me repeat it over +agin. + +He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new lite +was breaking in upon him. + +“Chawls,” says he, “did you observe--did Miss--did my father seem +PARTICULARLY INTIMATE with Miss Griffin?” + +“How do you mean, sir?” says I. + +“Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin?” + +“He was suttnly very kind to her.” + +“Come, sir, speak at once: did Miss Griffin seem very fond of his +lordship?” + +“Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed VERY fond of him.” + +“What did he call her?” + +“He called her his dearest gal.” + +“Did he take her hand?” + +“Yes, and he--” + +“And he what?” + +“He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about the +misfortn which had hapnd to you.” + +“I have it now!” says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashly +pail--“I have it now--the infernal old hoary scoundrel! the wicked, +unnatural wretch! He would take her from me!” And he poured out a volley +of oaves which are impossbill to be repeatid here. + +I thot as much long ago: and when my lord kem with his vizits so +pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such game +was in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a somethink of it from the Griffinses +servnts, that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. + +One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal capassaties; +he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very small chance +of having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, or his respectid +father might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. Oh! he saw it all +now--the fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixt at 12 o'clock, and +the bayliffs fixt to come and intarup the marridge!--the jewel, praps, +betwigst him and De l'Orge: but no, it was the WOMAN who did that--a +MAN don't deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son: a woman +may, poar thing!--she's no other means of reventch, and is used to fight +with underhand wepns all her life through. + +Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear that +he'd been beat by his father at his own game--a trapp set for him +onst, which had been defitted by my presnts of mind--another trap set +afterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as he +was, was much too good-natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly for +the sake of doing it. He'd got to that pich that he didn't mind +injaries--they were all fair play to him--he gave 'em, and reseav'd +them, without a thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it was +to benefick himself. And how was this to be done? By getting the hairiss +to himself, to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so; but I knew +his feelinx well enough--he regretted that he had not given the old +genlmn the money he askt for. + +Poar fello! he thought he had hit it; but he was wide of the mark after +all. + +Well, but what was to be done? It was clear that he must marry the gal +at any rate--cootky coot, as the French say: that is, marry her, and +hang the igspence. + +To do so he must first git out of prisn--to get out of prisn he must +pay his debts--and to pay his debts, he must give every shilling he +was worth. Never mind: four thousand pound is a small stake to a reglar +gambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot for life in prisn; and +when, if he plays it well, it will give him ten thousand a year. + +So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, and +accordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin:-- + + +“MY ADORED MATILDA,--Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor +fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed +in his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it within a +prison wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has brought these +liabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me so +much. But what matters! We have, as you say, enough, even though I +must pay this shameful demand upon me; and five thousand pounds are as +nothing, compared to the happiness which I lose in being separated a +night from thee! Courage, however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you; +and I were heartless indeed if I allowed my own losses to balance for a +moment against your happiness. + +“Is it not so, beloved one? IS not your happiness bound up with mine, +in a union with me? I am proud to think so--proud, too, to offer such a +humble proof as this of the depth and purity of my affection. + +“Tell me that you will still be mine; tell me that you will be mine +tomorrow; and to-morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I will +be free once more--or if bound, only bound to you! My adorable Matilda! +my betrothed bride! Write to me ere the evening closes, for I shall +never be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon my prison couch, until +they have been first blessed by the sight of a few words from thee! +Write to me, love! write to me! I languish for the reply which is to +make or mar me for ever. Your affectionate + +“A. P. D.” + + +Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to carry, +and bade me at the same time to try and give it into Miss Griffin's hand +alone. I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I found Miss, as I desired, in +a sollatary condition; and I presented her with master's pafewmed Billy. + +She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and the +tears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed until I +thought she would bust. She even claspt my hand in her's, and said, “O +Charles! is he very, very miserable?” + +“He is, ma'am,” says I; “very miserable indeed--nobody, upon my honor, +could be miserablerer.” + +On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at onst: and +sitting down to her eskrewtaw, she immediantly ableaged master with an +answer. Here it is in black and white: + + +“My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in these +arms! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the same place, at +the same hour. Then, then, it will be impossible for aught but death to +divide us. + +“M. G.” + + +This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles, and +cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better is it +to be puffickly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to the +writing of the heart. This is MY style: artyfiz I despise, and trust +compleatly to natur: but revnong a no mootong, as our continential +friends remark: to that nice white sheep, Algernon Percy Deuceace, +Exquire; that wenrabble old ram, my Lord Crabs his father; and that +tender and dellygit young lamb, Miss Matilda Griffin. + +She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the noat +transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, according to +my master's orders, “Miss, if you please, the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace +would be very much ableaged to you to keep the seminary which is to take +place to-morrow a profound se--,” when my master's father entered, and I +fell back to the door. Miss, without a word, rusht into his arms, burst +into teers agin, as was her reglar way (it must be confest she was of +a very mist constitution), and showing to him his son's note, cried, +“Look, my dear lord, how nobly your Algernon, OUR Algernon, writes +to me. Who can doubt, after this, of the purity of his matchless +affection?” + +My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused, and +returning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, “My dear Miss +Griffin, he certainly does seem in earnest; and if you choose to make +this match without the consent of your mother-in-law, you know the +consequence, and are of course your own mistress.” + +“Consequences!--for shame, my lord! A little money, more or less, what +matters it to two hearts like ours?” + +“Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but Three-per-Cents +are better.” + +“Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the aid of Lady +Griffin?” + +My lord shrugged his shoulders. “Be it so, my love,” says he. “I'm sure +I can have no other reason to prevent a union which is founded upon such +disinterested affection.” + +And here the conversation dropt. Miss retired, clasping her hands, and +making play with the whites of her i's. My lord began trotting up and +down the room, with his fat hands stuck in his britchis pockits, his +countnince lighted up with igstream joy, and singing, to my inordnit +igstonishment: + + + “See the conquering hero comes! + Tiddy diddy doll--tiddy doll, doll, doll.” + + +He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like mad. +I stood amazd--a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't going, then, to +make love to Miss Griffin! Master might marry her! Had she not got the +for--? + +I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands +puppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughts +passing in my mind, when my lord having got to the last “doll” of his +song, just as I came to the sillible “for” of my ventriloquism, or +inward speech--we had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, when the +meditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of his +singin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me up +aginst one end of the room, himself flying back to the other: and it +was only after considrabble agitation that we were at length restored to +anything like a liquilibrium. + +“What, YOU here, you infernal rascal?” says my lord. + +“Your lordship's very kind to notus me,” says I; “I am here.” And I gave +him a look. + +He saw I knew the whole game. + +And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave +he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in five +minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up to me, +says: + +“Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow.” + +“Must it, sir?” says I; “now, for my part, I don't think--” + +“Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you gain?” + +This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situation, for +master had but just enough money to pay his detts; and it wooden soot my +book to serve him in prisn or starving. + +“Well,” says my lord, “you see the force of my argument. Now, look +here!” and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! “If +my son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this; and +I will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you double your +present wages.” + +Flesh and blood cooden bear it. “My lord,” says I, laying my hand upon +my busm, “only give me security, and I'm yours for ever.” + +The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. “Right, my +lad,” says he, “right--you're a nice promising youth. Here is the best +security.” And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the hundred-pun +bill, and takes out one for fifty. “Here is half to-day; to-morrow you +shall have the remainder.” + +My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit of +paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had in my +life. I cast my i upon the amount: it was a fifty sure enough--a bank +poss-bill, made payable to Leonora Emilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. +The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to see +the game. + +“Recollect, from this day you are in my service.” + +“My lord, you overpoar me with your faviors.” + +“Go to the devil, sir,” says he: “do your duty, and hold your tongue.” + +And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon Deuceace to +that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs. + + . . . . . . + +On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus place +to which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him; and felt for him, I +must say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he--a swindler, who +had robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance; who had cheated his +fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridge +with a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn on +my purt; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckmstansies of my +privit intervew with his exlnsy my presnt master. + +I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satasfied air. +Then, turning to me, says he: “You gave this to Miss Griffin alone?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You gave her my message?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave either +the message or the note?” + +“Not there upon my honor,” says I. + +“Hang your honor, sir! Brush my hat and coat, and go CALL A COACH--do +you hear?” + + . . . . . . + +I did as I was ordered; and on coming back found master in what's +called, I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in waiting had +out a great register, and was talking to master in the French tongue, in +coarse; a number of poar prisners were looking eagerly on. + +“Let us see, my lor,” says he; “the debt is 98,700 francs; there are +capture expenses, interest so much; and the whole sum amounts to a +hundred thousand francs, moins 13.” + +Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocketbook four +thowsnd pun notes. “This is not French money, but I presume that you +know it, M. Greffier,” says he. + +The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, who had one +or two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to be there. “Les billets +sont bons,” says he. “Je les prendrai pour cent mille douze cent francs, +et j'espere, my lor, de vous revoir.” + +“Good,” says the greffier; “I know them to be good, and I will give my +lor the difference, and make out his release.” + +Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the great +dubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace stept out +and me after him, to breathe the fresh hair. + +He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free again--free, +and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day. But, for all that, he +lookt very faint and pale. He HAD put down his great stake; and when he +came out of Sainte Pelagie, he had but fifty pounds left in the world! + +Never mind--when onst the money's down, make your mind easy; and so +Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew, where he ordered +apartmince infinately more splendid than befor; and I pretty soon told +Toinette, and the rest of the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, and how +he valyoud four thousnd pound no more than ditch water. And such was the +consquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, that +the delighted landlady immediantly charged him dubble what she would +have done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. + +He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week; a +carridge-and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely; and +having settled all these things, went quietly to the “Roshy de Cancale,” + where he dined: as well he might, for it was now eight o'clock. I +didn't spare the shompang neither that night, I can tell you; for when +I carried the note he gave me for Miss Griffin in the evening, informing +her of his freedom, that young lady remarked my hagitated manner of +walking and speaking, and said, “Honest Charles! he is flusht with the +events of the day. Here, Charles, is a napoleon; take it and drink to +your mistress.” + +I pockitid it; but, I must say, I didn't like the money--it went against +my stomick to take it. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE MARRIAGE. + + +Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was waiting at the +ambasdor's doar; and Miss Griffin and the faithfle Kicksey were punctial +to the apintment. + +I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary--how the embasy chapling +jined the hands of this loving young couple--how one of the embasy +footmin was called in to witness the marridge--how Miss wep and fainted +as usial--and how Deuceace carried her, fainting, to the brisky, and +drove off to Fontingblo, where they were to pass the fust weak of the +honey-moon. They took no servnts, because they wisht, they said, to +be privit. And so, when I had shut up the steps, and bid the postilion +drive on, I bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and went off strait to +his exlent father. + +“Is it all over, Chawls?” said he. + +“I saw them turned off at igsactly a quarter past 12, my lord,” says I. + +“Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before her +marriage?” + +“I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bobtail's man; who +can swear to her having had it.” + +I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper which Lady Griffin +had written, and which I was comishnd to give in the manner menshnd +abuff. It ran to this effect:-- + + +“According to the authority given me by the will of my late dear +husband, I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honorable +Algernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union, I warn +her that she must abide by the consequences of her act. + +“LEONORA EMILIA GRIFFIN.” + +“RUE DE RIVOLI, May 8, 1818.” + + +When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit before my +master's arrivle, she only read it contemptiously, and said, “I laugh at +the threats of Lady Griffin;” and she toar the paper in two, and walked +on, leaning on the arm of the faithful and obleaging Miss Kicksey. + +I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my lord. +Not that there was any necessaty; for he'd kep a copy, and made me and +another witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) read them both, before he +sent either away. + +“Good!” says he; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of that +bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. “I keep my +promise, you see, Charles,” says he. “You are now in Lady Griffin's +service, in the place of Mr. Fitzclarence, who retires. Go to Froje's, +and get a livery.” + +“But, my lord,” says I, “I was not to go into Lady Griffnses service, +according to the bargain, but into--” + +“It's all the same thing,” says he; and he walked off. I went to Mr. +Froje's, and ordered a new livry; and found, likwise, that our coachmin +and Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My lady's livery was changed, +and was now of the same color as my old coat at Mr. Deuceace's; and I'm +blest if there wasn't a tremenjious great earl's corronit on the butins, +instid of the Griffin rampint, which was worn befoar. + +I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured; and slep that +night at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with the carridge for a day +or two, though; my lady only taking one footmin, she said, until HER NEW +CARRIDGE was turned out. + +I think you can guess what's in the wind NOW! + +I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzen lawn +sherts and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary for a +genlmn in my rank. Silk stockings was provided by the rules of the +house. And I completed the bisniss by writing the follying ginteel +letter to my late master:-- + + +“CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE A. P. DEUCEACE. + +“SUR,--Suckmstansies have acurd sins I last had the honner of wating on +you, which render it impossbil that I should remane any longer in your +suvvice. I'll thank you to leave out my thinx, when they come home on +Sattady from the wash. + +“Your obeajnt servnt, + +“CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH.” + +“PLAS VENDOME.” + + +The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious; but ke +voolyvoo? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the expearance in writing +which I've enjide sins. + +Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in the nex +chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE HONEY-MOON. + + +The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away; and at the end of it, our son +and daughter-in-law--a pare of nice young tuttle-duvs--returned to their +nest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I suspeck that the COCK turtle-dove was +preshos sick of his barging. + +When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table was a large +parsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a couple of cards, +tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the parsle was a hansume piece +of plum-cake, with a deal of sugar. On the cards was wrote, in Goffick +characters, + + + Earl of Crabs. + + +And, in very small Italian, + + + Countess of Crabs. + + +And in the paper was the following parrowgraff:-- + + +“MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.--Yesterday, at the British embassy, the Right +Honorable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl of Crabs, to Leonora +Emilia, widow of the late Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. +B. An elegant dejeune was given to the happy couple by his Excellency +Lord Bobtail, who gave away the bride. The elite of the foreign +diplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia on +behalf of H. M. the King of France, honored the banquet and the marriage +ceremony. Lord and Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at Saint +Cloud.” + + +The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of which I have +also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace on their arrivle from +Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what Deuceace said; but I can +fancy how he LOOKT, and how poor Mrs. Deuceace lookt. They weren't much +inclined to rest after the fiteeg of the junny; for, in 1/2 an hour +after their arrival at Paris, the hosses were put to the carridge +agen, and down they came thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud +(pronounst by those absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chaste +loves and delishs marridge injyments. + +My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on a sofa at +an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle; her ladyship, who, to du her +justice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end of the room, and +was working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an umbrellore case, or a +coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would have thought to have sean +'em that they had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon +this conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, “My lord, here's +your son and daughter-in-law.” + +“Well,” says my lord, quite calm, “and what then?” + +“Mr. Deuceace!” says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. + +“Yes, my love, my son; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, say +that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace; +and that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. Sit still, my +blessing--take things coolly. Have you got the box with the papers?” + +My lady pointed to a great green box--the same from which she had taken +the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them,--and handed over to my lord a +fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, gave +my messinge, and bowed them palitely in. + +My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little quicker, +but I can't say); my lady sat upright, looking handsum and strong. +Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his wife and hat on +the other. He looked very pale and frightened; his wife, poar thing! had +her head berried in her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. + +Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she was +less than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at onst, and +held out her arms--she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and I respect her +for it. The poor hunchback flung herself into Miss's arms, with a kind +of whooping screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite a +historical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, in cors, +left the door ajar. + +“Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy!” says my lord, in a loud, hearty +voice. “You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you rogue? But +we knew it, my dear fellow: we knew the whole affair--did we not, my +soul?--and you see, kept our secret better than you did yours.” + +“I must confess, sir,” says Deuceace, bowing, “that I had no idea of the +happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law.” + +“No, you dog; no, no,” says my lord, giggling: “old birds, you know, not +to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we are, all spliced +and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon; let us smoke a segar, and talk +over the perils and adventures of the last month. My love,” says my +lord, turning to his lady, “you have no malice against poor Algernon, I +trust? Pray shake HIS HAND.” (A grin.) + +But my lady rose and said, “I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I never +wished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, to +change my opinion.” And herewith she sailed out of the room, by the door +through which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. + +“Well, well,” says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, “I was in hopes she +had forgiven you; but I know the whole story, and I must confess you +used her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow!--that was your game, was +it, you rogue?” + +“Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and Lady +Grif--Lady Crabs, before our quarrel?” + +“Perfectly--you made love to her, and she was almost in love with +you; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off in +revenge: no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace; no more sauter la coupe. I +can't think how the deuce you will manage to live without them.” + +“Your lordship is very kind; but I have given up play altogether,” says +Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. + +“Oh, indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he? This is better and +better. Are you thinking of going into the church, Deuceace?” + +“My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious?” + +“Serious! a quoi bon? I am serious--serious in my surprise that, when +you might have had either of these women, you should have preferred that +hideous wife of yours.” + +“May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish about +a wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to your own +son?” says Deuceace, growing fierce. + +“How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand pounds--there +is an execution at Sizes Hall--every acre I have is in the hands of +my creditors; and that's why I married her. Do you think there was any +love? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's not a fool--she +married me for my coronet, and I married her for her money.” + +“Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married the +daughter-in-law.” + +“Yes, but I DO, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to live? Dawkins's +five thousand pounds won't last forever; and afterwards?” + +“You don't mean, my lord--you don't--I mean, you can't-- D---!” says he, +starting up, and losing all patience, “you don't dare to say that Miss +Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year?” + +My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another segar; he +lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly-- + +“Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year.” + +“Well, sir, and has she not got it now? Has she spent it in a week?” + +“SHE HAS NOT GOT A SIX-PENCE NOW: SHE MARRIED WITHOUT HER MOTHER'S +CONSENT!” + +Deuceace sunk down in a chair; and I never see such a dreadful picture +of despair as there was in the face of that retchid man!--he writhed, +and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled madly the stump +of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he threw it over his livid pale +face, and sinking backwards, fairly wept alowd. + +Bah! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying! his pashn torn up from +the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git such a +vent. My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and went on. + +“My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have left you +alone in peace, with your four thousand pounds: you might have lived +decently upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per cent, where your +duns would not find you, and a couple of hundred a year would have kept +you and your wife in comfort. But, you see, Lady Crabs would not listen +to it. You had injured her; and, after she had tried to kill you and +failed, she determined to ruin you, and succeeded. I must own to you +that I directed the arresting business, and put her up to buying your +protested bills: she got them for a trifle, and as you have paid them, +has made a good two thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painful +thing to be sure, for a father to get his son arrested; but que +voulez-vous! I did not appear in the transaction: she would have you +ruined; and it was absolutely necessary that YOU should marry before I +could, so I pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the happy +man you are. You rogue, you rogue! you thought to match your old father, +did you? But, never mind; lunch will be ready soon. In the meantime, +have a segar, and drink a glass of Sauterne.” + +Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up wildly. + +“I'll not believe it,” he said: “it's a lie, an infernal lie! forged +by you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet you have +married. I'll not believe it; show me the will. Matilda! Matilda!” + shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and flinging open the door by which she +had gone out. + +“Keep your temper, my boy. You ARE vexed, and I feel for you: but don't +use such bad language: it is quite needless, believe me.” + +“Matilda!” shouted out Deuceace again; and the poor crooked thing came +trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. + +“Is this true, woman?” says he, clutching hold of her hand. + +“What, dear Algernon?” says she. + +“What?” screams out Deuceace,--“what? Why that you are a beggar, for +marrying without your mother's consent--that you basely lied to me, in +order to bring about this match--that you are a swindler, in conspiracy +with that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife?” + +“It is true,” sobbed the poor woman, “that I have nothing; but--” + +“Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool?” + +“I have nothing!--but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is that +not enough for us? You love me for myself, don't you, Algernon? You have +told me so a thousand times--say so again, dear husband; and do not, do +not be so unkind.” And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, and +tried to catch his hand, and kiss it. + +“How much did you say?” says my lord. + +“Two thousand a year, sir; he has told us so a thousand times.” + +“TWO THOUSAND! Two thou--ho, ho, ho!--haw! haw! haw!” roars my lord. +“That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My dear +creature, he has not a shilling--not a single maravedi, by all the gods +and goddesses.” And this exlnt noblemin began laffin louder than ever: a +very kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. + +There was a paws: and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing at +her husband as he had done at her: she only said, “O Algernon! is this +true?” and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. + +My lord opened the great box. “If you or your lawyers would like to +examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your service; you will see +here the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire fortune to +Lady Griffin--Lady Crabs that is: and here, my dear boy, you see the +danger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed you the FIRST PAGE +OF THE WILL, of course; she wanted to try you. You thought you made a +great stroke in at once proposing to Miss Griffin--do not mind it, my +love, he really loves you now very sincerely!--when, in fact, you +would have done much better to have read the rest of the will. You were +completely bitten, my boy--humbugged, bamboozled--ay, and by your old +father, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused to lend +me a portion of your Dawkins money. I told you I would; and I DID. I had +you the very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy; don't +try your luck again against such old hands: look deuced well before you +leap: audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, read both sides of the +will. I think lunch is ready; but I see you don't smoke. Shall we go +in?” + +“Stop, my lord,” says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: “I shall not share your +hospitality--but--but you know my condition; I am penniless--you know +the manner in which my wife has been brought up--” + +“The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, as if +nothing had occurred to interrupt the friendship between her dear mother +and herself.” + +“And for me, sir,” says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow; “I +hope--I trust--I think, my lord, you will not forget me?” + +“Forget you, sir; certainly not.” + +“And that you will make some provision--?” + +“Algernon Deuceace,” says my lord, getting up from the sophy, and +looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as I never see, “I declare, +before heaven, that I will not give you a penny!” + +Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, “My dear, +will you join your mother and me? We shall always, as I said, have a +home for you.” + +“My lord,” said the poar thing, dropping a curtsy, “my home is with +HIM!” + + . . . . . . + +About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, and +the autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my lady, me and Mortimer, +were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong, the carridge driving on slowly +ahead, and us as happy as possbill, admiring the pleasant woods and the +goldn sunset. + +My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit beauty of the +sean, and pouring forth a host of butifle and virtuous sentaments +sootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. “Ah!” said he, +“black must be the heart, my love, which does not feel the influence +of a scene like this; gathering as it were, from those sunlit skies, +a portion of their celestial gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven with +each pure draught of this delicious air!” + +Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked upwards. Mortimer +and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean, and lent on our +goold sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to us, and my lord +and my lady sauntered slowly tords it. + +Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a poorly drest +woman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom I thought I'd +sean befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat, with white seems and +copper buttons; a torn hat was on his head, and great quantaties of +matted hair and whiskers disfiggared his countnints. He was not shaved, +and as pale as stone. + +My lord and lady didn tak the slightest notice of him, but past on to +the carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took OUR places. As we past, the +man had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, who was holding down her +head sobbing bitterly. + +No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, with igstream +dellixy and good natur, burst into a ror of lafter, peal upon peal, +whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening silents. + +DEUCEACE turned round. I see his face now--the face of a devvle of hell! +Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to it with his maimed +arm; then he raised the other, AND STRUCK THE WOMAN BY HIS SIDE. She +fell, screaming. + +Poor thing! Poor thing! + + + + +MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. + + +The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end of my +corrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part with me as I am +with the public; becaws I fansy reely that we've become frends, and feal +for my part a becoming greaf at saying ajew. + +It's imposbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I have +done--violetting the rules of authography, and trampling upon the fust +princepills of English grammar. When I began, I knew no better: when I'd +carrid on these papers a little further, and grew accustmd to writin, I +began to smel out somethink quear in my style. Within the last sex weaks +I have been learning to spell: and when all the world was rejoicing at +the festivvaties of our youthful Quean--*when all i's were fixed upon +her long sweet of ambasdors and princes, following the splendid carridge +of Marshle the Duke of Damlatiar, and blinking at the pearls and dimince +of Prince Oystereasy--Yellowplush was in his loanly pantry--HIS eyes +were fixt upon the spelling-book--his heart was bent upon mastring the +diffickleties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, CONVERTID. + + +* This was written in 1838. + + +You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house; and ever sins his +third son has got a place in the Treasury, his secknd a captingsy in the +Guards, his fust, the secretary of embasy at Pekin, with a prospick +of being appinted ambasdor at Loo Choo--ever sins master's sons have +reseaved these attentions, and master himself has had the promis of a +pearitch, he has been the most reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in +or out of the House of Commins. + +Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave littery +pipple; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose name do you think +I had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a wick ago? After +several dukes and markises had been enounced, a very gentell fly drives +up to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen. One was pail, and wor +spektickles, a wig, and a white neckcloth. The other was slim with a +hook nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a pare of falling shoulders, a +tight coat, and a catarack of black satting tumbling out of his busm, +and falling into a gilt velvet weskit. The little genlmn settled his +wigg, and pulled out his ribbins; the younger one fluffed the dust of +his shoes, looked at his whiskers in a little pockit-glas, settled his +crevatt; and they both mounted upstairs. + +“What name, sir?” says I, to the old genlmn. + +“Name!--a! now, you thief o' the wurrld,” says he, “do you pretind +nat to know ME? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa--no, I mane the Litherary +Chran--psha!--bluthanowns!--say it's DOCTHOR DIOCLESIAN LARNER--I think +he'll know me now--ay, Nid?” But the genlmn called Nid was at the botm +of the stare, and pretended to be very busy with his shoo-string. So the +little genlmn went upstares alone. + +“DOCTOR DIOLESIUS LARNER!” says I. + +“DOCTOR ATHANASIUS LARDNER!” says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd footman, +on the fust landing-place. + +“DOCTOR IGNATIUS LOYOLA!” says the groom of the chambers, who pretends +to be a scholar; and in the little genlmn went. When safely housed, +the other chap came; and when I asked him his name, said, in a thick, +gobbling kind of voice: + +“Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig.” + +“Sir what?” says I, quite agast at the name. + +“Sawedwad--no, I mean MISTAWedwad Lyttn Bulwig.” + +My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice shook, as +I past up the venrabble name to the other footman, and saw this fust of +English writers go up to the drawing-room! + +It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the compny, or to +dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to say that the two +littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have good appytights; +igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who et, drunk, and talked +as much as a duzn. He told how he'd been presented at cort by his +friend, Mr. Bulwig, and how the Quean had received 'em both, with a +dignity undigscribable; and how her blessid Majisty asked what was the +bony fidy sale of the Cabinit Cyclopaedy, and how be (Doctor Larner) +told her that, on his honner, it was under ten thowsnd. + +You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, was pretty far +gone. The fact is, that whether it was the coronation, or the goodness +of the wine (cappitle it is in our house, I can tell you), or the natral +propensaties of the gests assembled, which made them so igspecially +jolly, I don't know; but they had kep up the meating pretty late, and +our poar butler was quite tired with the perpechual baskits of clarrit +which he'd been called upon to bring up. So that about 11 o'clock, if I +were to say they were merry, I should use a mild term; if I wer to say +they were intawsicated, I should use a nigspresshn more near to the +truth, but less rispeckful in one of my situashn. + +The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute extonishment. + +“Pray, Doctor Larnder,” says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep up the +littery conversation, “what is the Cabinet Cyclopaedia?” + +“It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld,” says he; “and sure your +lordship must have seen it; the latther numbers ispicially--cheap as +durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shillings a vollum. The illusthrious +neems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther Southey, Sir James +Mackintosh, Docther Donovan, and meself, are to be found in the list of +conthributors. It's the Phaynix of Cyclopajies--a litherary Bacon.” + +“A what?” says the genlmn nex to him. + +“A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age; fild wid the pure end +lambent flame of science, burning with the gorrgeous scintillations of +divine litherature--a monumintum, in fact, are perinnius, bound in pink +calico, six shillings a vollum.” + +“This wigmawole,” said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather disgusted that his +friend should take up so much of the convassation), “this wigmawole +is all vewy well; but it's cuwious that you don't wemember, in +chawactewising the litewawy mewits of the vawious magazines, cwonicles, +weviews, and encyclopaedias, the existence of a cwitical weview and +litewary chwonicle, which, though the aewa of its appeawance is +dated only at a vewy few months pwevious to the pwesent pewiod, is, +nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic mewits as to be wead, not +in the metwopolis alone, but in the countwy--not in Fwance merely, +but in the west of Euwope--whewever our pure Wenglish is spoken, it +stwetches its peaceful sceptre--pewused in Amewica, fwom New York to +Ningawa--wepwinted in Canada, from Montweal to Towonto--and, as I am +gwatified to hear fwom my fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle, +wegularly weceived in Afwica, and twanslated into the Mandingo +language by the missionawies and the bushwangers. I need not say, +gentlemen--sir--that is, Mr. Speaker--I mean, Sir John--that I allude +to the Litewary Chwonicle, of which I have the honor to be pwincipal +contwibutor.” + +“Very true; my dear Mr. Bullwig,” says my master: “you and I being +Whigs, must of course stand by our own friends; and I will agree, +without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary what-d'ye-call'em is +the prince of periodicals.” + +“The pwince of pewiodicals?” says Bullwig; “my dear Sir John, it's the +empewow of the pwess.” + +“Soit,--let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically call it: +but, between ourselves, confess it,--Do not the Tory writers beat your +Whigs hollow? You talk about magazines. Look at--” + +“Look at hwat?” shouts out Larder. “There's none, Sir Jan, compared to +ourrs.” + +“Pardon me, I think that--” + +“It is 'Bentley's Mislany' you mane?” says Ignatius, as sharp as a +niddle. + +“Why, no; but--” + +“O thin, it's Co'burn, sure! and that divvle Thayodor--a pretty paper, +sir, but light--thrashy, milk-and-wathery--not sthrong, like the +Litherary Chran--good luck to it.” + +“Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name of the +periodical, it's FRASER'S MAGAZINE.” + +“FRESER!” says the Doctor. “O thunder and turf!” + +“FWASER!” says Bullwig. “O--ah--hum--haw--yes--no--why,--that is +weally--no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the name +of the pewiodical. By the by, Sir John, what wemarkable good clawet this +is; is it Lawose or Laff--?” + +Laff, indeed! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could kip +it neither,--for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind the +skreend, settlin somethink for the genlmn, I bust into such a raw of +laffing as never was igseeded. + +“Hullo!” says Bullwig, turning red. “Have I said anything impwobable, +aw widiculous? for, weally, I never befaw wecollect to have heard in +society such a twemendous peal of cachinnation--that which the twagic +bard who fought at Mawathon has called an anewithmon gelasma.” + +“Why, be the holy piper,” says Larder, “I think you are dthrawing a +little on your imagination. Not read Fraser! Don't believe him, my lord +duke; he reads every word of it, the rogue! The boys about that magazine +baste him as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out, Sir +Jan, was because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has every +syllable of it be heart--from the pailitix down to the 'Yellowplush +Correspondence.'” + +“Ha, ha!” says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my ears +prickt up when I heard the name of the “Yellowplush Correspondence”). +“Ha, ha! why, to tell truth, I HAVE wead the cowespondence to which you +allude: it's a gweat favowite at court. I was talking with Spwing Wice +and John Wussell about it the other day.” + +“Well, and what do you think of it?” says Sir John, looking mity +waggish--for he knew it was me who roat it. + +“Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about the +cweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwabability, and +the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a positive +study to compwehend it.” + +“Yes, faith,” says Larner; “the arthagraphy is detestible; it's as bad +for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a brrogue. +Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my lord, and good +luck to you.” + +“Yaw wemark,” says Bullwig, “is vewy appwopwiate. You will wecollect, +Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you know more about Iwish +than about Gweek),--you will wecollect, without doubt, a stowy nawwated +by that cwedulous though fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind of +sheep which is known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of which +the tail is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or is +bound up by the shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, or +cart, which makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus 'the sheep +of Awabia have their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this +clawet is weally nectaweous)--I have often, I say, thought that the +wace of man may be compawed to these Awabian sheep--genius is our tail, +education our wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop it, this +genius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or injured +by the wocks upon the way: with the wheelbawwow it is stwengthened, +incweased, and supported--a pwide to the owner, a blessing to mankind.” + +“A very appropriate simile,” says Sir John; “and I am afraid that the +genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support.” + +“Apropos,” said Bullwig, “who IS Yellowplush? I was given to understand +that the name was only a fictitious one, and that the papers were +written by the author of the 'Diary of a Physician;' if so, the man has +wonderfully improved in style, and there is some hope of him.” + +“Bah!” says the Duke of Doublejowl; “everybody knows it's Barnard, the +celebrated author of 'Sam Slick.'” + +“Pardon, my dear duke,” says Lord Bagwig; “it's the authoress of 'High +Life,' 'Almack's,' and other fashionable novels.” + +“Fiddlestick's end!” says Doctor Larner; “don't be blushing and +pretinding to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It's +you yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the very +beginning.” + +Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interrupted them, +and said,--“I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush is no +other than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your last +glass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an +ornament of my kitchen!” + +“Gad!” says Doublejowl, “let's have him up.” + +“Hear, hear!” says Bagwig. + +“Ah, now,” says Larner, “your grace is not going to call up and talk to +a footman, sure? Is it gintale?” + +“To say the least of it,” says Bullwig, “the pwactice is iwwegular, and +indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way +pwofitable.” + +But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and +everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was wrung; +butler came. “Send up Charles,” says master; and Charles, who was +standing behind the skreand, was persnly abliged to come in. + +“Charles,” says master, “I have been telling these gentlemen who is the +author of the 'Yellowplush Correspondence' in Fraser's Magazine.” + +“It's the best magazine in Europe,” says the duke. + +“And no mistake,” says my lord. + +“Hwhat!” says Larner; “and where's the Litherary Chran?” + +I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like +pickle-cabbitch. + +“Mr. Yellowplush,” says his grace, “will you, in the first place, drink +a glass of wine?” + +I boughed agin. + +“And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy?” + +“Why, your grace,” says I, “I know my place, and ain't above kitchin +wines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to the health of this +honrabble compny.” + +When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me the +honor to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit; when my +master said:-- + +“Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's Magazine +with so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of your talents as a +writer, that I really cannot keep you as a footman any longer, or allow +you to discharge duties for which you are now quite unfit. With all my +admiration for your talents, Mr. Yellowplush, I still am confident that +many of your friends in the servants'-hall will clean my boots a great +deal better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to +do--it is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may be +writing articles in magazines. But--you need not look so red, my good +fellow, and had better take another glass of port--I don't wish to throw +you upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have made +interest for a little place which you will have under government, and +which will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum; which you can +double, I presume, by your literary labors.” + +“Sir,” says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, “do not--for +heaven's sake, do not!--think of any such think, or drive me from your +suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in magaseens. Glans +but one moment at your honor's plate--every spoon is as bright as a +mirror; condysend to igsamine your shoes--your honor may see reflected +in them the fases of every one in the company. I blacked them shoes, I +cleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the footman in +the litterary man, and committed to paper my remindicences of fashnabble +life, it was from a sincere desire to do good, and promote nollitch: and +I appeal to your honor,--I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of +this noble company beg you to say, When you rung your bell, who came to +you fust? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up for +you? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his station, +and answered the two-pair bell? Oh, sir,” says I, “I know what's what; +don't send me away. I know them littery chaps, and, beleave me, I'd +rather be a footman. The work's not so hard--the pay is better: the +vittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to clean my things, and run my +errints, and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! Mr. +Bullwig! an't I right? shall I quit MY station and sink--that is to say, +rise--to YOURS?” + +Bullwig was violently affected; a tear stood in his glistening i. +“Yellowplush,” says he, seizing my hand, “you ARE right. Quit not your +present occupation; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all your +life, but don't turn literary man. Look at me. I am the first novelist +in Europe. I have ranged with eagle wing over the wide regions of +literature, and perched on every eminence in its turn. I have gazed with +eagle eyes on the sun of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depths +of the human mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts are +known to me, all men understood by me. I have gathered wisdom from +the honeyed lips of Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of +Acadames--wisdom, too, from the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked +our 'backy in Seven Dials. Such must be the studies, and such is the +mission, in this world, of the Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge +is only emptiness; the initiation is but misery; the initiated, a man +shunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh,” said Bullwig, clasping his +hands, and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, “the curse of +Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue them +from genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the heaven-scaler, the +fire-stealer! Wo and thrice bitter desolation! Earth is the wock on +which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim--men, the vultures +that feed and fatten on him. Ai, ai! it is agony eternal--gwoaning and +solitawy despair! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these mystewies: +you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twemendous Pwesence. +Beware; as you value your peace, beware! Withdwaw, wash Neophyte! +For heaven's sake--O for heaven's sake!”--here he looked round with +agony--“give me a glass of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is beginning +to disagwee with me.” + +Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own +sattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then swigged +off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as he took the +last gulph; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, in +order to show his independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, +addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn present, in the following +manner:-- + +“Hark ye,” says he, “my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the nonsinse +of that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, my bhoy: that's the +rale, undoubted thruth; and it's only to keep you out of litherary +life that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you what--Plush ye +blackguard,--my honorable frind the mimber there has told me a hunder +times by the smallest computation, of his intense admiration of your +talents, and the wonderful sthir they were making in the world. He can't +bear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatableness. Look at +him, Plush, and look at me. My father was not a juke exactly, nor aven +a markis, and see, nevertheliss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no +ixpinse; I'm the iditor of a cople of pariodicals; I dthrive about in me +carridge: I dine wid the lords of the land; and why--in the name of the +piper that pleed before Mosus, hwy? Because I'm a litherary man. Because +I know how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther Larner, in fact, and +mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remained +all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as that +offered you by Sir Jan; but I came to London--to London, my boy, and now +see! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He IS a gentleman, to be sure, and +bad luck to 'im, say I; and what has been the result of his litherary +labor? I'll tell you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the +shade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him a BARINET.” + +“A BARNET, Doctor!” says I; “you don't mean to say they're going to make +him a barnet!” + +“As sure as I've made meself a docthor,” says Larner. + +“What, a baronet, like Sir John?” + +“The divle a bit else.” + +“And pray what for?” + +“What faw?” says Bullwig. “Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? Ask +Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat Bwitish +nation, what faw? The blood in my veins comes puwified thwough ten +thousand years of chivalwous ancestwy; but that is neither here +nor there: my political principles--the equal wights which I have +advocated--the gweat cause of fweedom that I have celebwated, are known +to all. But this, I confess, has nothing to do with the question. No, +the question is this--on the thwone of litewature I stand unwivalled, +pwe-eminent; and the Bwitish government, honowing genius in me, +compliments the Bwitish nation by lifting into the bosom of the +heweditawy nobility, the most gifted member of the democwacy.” (The +honrabble genlm here sunk down amidst repeated cheers.) + +“Sir John,” says I, “and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint frend +Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has just sate +down, have made me change the detummination which I had the honor of +igspressing just now. + +“I igsept the eighty pound a year; knowing that I shall ave plenty of +time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set on that +same bentch of barranites, which is deckarated by the presnts of my +honrabble friend. + +“Why shooden I? It's trew I ain't done anythink as YET to deserve +such an honor; and it's very probable that I never shall. But +what then?--quaw dong, as our friends say? I'd much rayther have a +coat-of-arms than a coat of livry. I'd much rayther have my blud-red +hand spralink in the middle of a shield, than underneath a tea-tray. A +barranit I will be; and, in consiquints, must cease to be a footmin. + +“As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled: +they are, I know, necessary; but they ain't necessary UNTIL ASKT FOR; +besides, I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, and so ignirince on this +pint would be inigscusable. + +“But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit, and +another a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and another the +wife of a governor of the Cape of Good Hope, I begin to perseave that +the littery trade ain't such a very bad un; igspecially if you're up to +snough, and know what's o'clock. I'll learn to make myself usefle, in +the fust place; then I'll larn to spell; and, I trust, by reading the +novvles of the honrabble member, and the scientafick treatiseses of the +reverend doctor, I may find the secrit of suxess, and git a litell for +my own share. I've sevral frends in the press, having paid for many of +those chaps' drink, and given them other treets; and so I think I've got +all the emilents of suxess; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, to +igsept your kind offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yous +of when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however--” + +“I wish you'd withdraw yourself,” said Sir John, bursting into a most +igstrorinary rage, “and not interrupt the company with your infernal +talk! Go down, and get us coffee: and, hark ye! hold your impertinent +tongue, or I'll break every bone in your body. You shall have the place +as I said; and while you're in my service, you shall be my servant; but +you don't stay in my service after to-morrow. Go down stairs, sir; and +don't stand staring here!” + + . . . . . . + +In this abrupt way, my evening ended; it's with a melancholy regret that +I think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am an altered, a +wiser, and, I trust, a better man. + +I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in the +style of my friend Bullwig; and preparing for publigation, in the +Doctor's Cyclopedear, “The Lives of Eminent British and Foring +Wosherwomen.” + + + +SKIMMINGS FROM “THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV.” + + +CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* + +DEAR WHY,--Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me +(who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshire +for six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old English +hospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our +sports in the country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four +posterses could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the +two vollumes of a new book; which, as I have been away from the literary +world, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying +neglected in my pantry, among my knife-cloaths, and dekanters, and +blacking-bottles, and bed-room candles, and things. + + +* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it +may be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that +“Oliver Yorke” is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical. + + +This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. I see +sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, and +have given their apinions concerning it: specially the Quotly Revew, +which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of the +Times of George IV.* + + +* Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed +with Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from various +other distinguished Persons. + + “Tot ou tard, tout se scait.”--MAINTENON. + +In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn. + + +That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, +as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femail +wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, I, in coarse, can't +conjecter: and indeed, common galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only +judge of the book itself; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching +upon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz. fashnabble life, as igsibited +in the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. + +But I bare no mallis--infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matter +where the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from that +distinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed--whether, I say, +it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a scullion to that +diffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is nollidge; never mind how we +have it. Nollidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit--it's always +good, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. + +Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonal +intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my private +memoars--though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, by +cuttin short the tail of my narratif--though much that I had to say in +souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my orytory, the +benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus +abruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor +writing English; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I am +puffickly prepaired to say, to gainsay which no man can say a word--yet +I say, that I say I consider this publication welkom. Far from viewing +it with enfy, I greet it with applaws; because it increases that most +exlent specious of nollidge, I mean “FASHNABBLE NOLLIDGE:” compayred +to witch all other nollidge is nonsince--a bag of goold to a pare of +snuffers. + +Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say what he had +tu say better? We are marters, both of us, to prinsple; and every body +who knows eather knows that we would sacrafice anythink rather than +that. Fashion is the goddiss I adoar. This delightful work is an offring +on her srine; and as sich all her wushippers are bound to hail it. +Here is not a question of trumpry lords and honrabbles, generals and +barronites, but the crown itself, and the king and queen's actions; +witch may be considered as the crown jewels. Here's princes, and +grand-dukes and airsparent, and heaven knows what; all with blood-royal +in their veins, and their names mentioned in the very fust page of the +peeridge. In this book you become so intmate with the Prince of Wales, +that you may follow him, if you please, to his marridge-bed: or, if +you prefer the Princiss Charlotte, you may have with her an hour's +tator-tator.* + + +* Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tete-a-tete.--O. Y. + + +Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this book have been given +already (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say,) I shall trouble +you, nevertheless, with a few; partly because they can't be repeated +too often, and because the toan of obsyvation with which they have been +genrally received by the press, is not igsackly such as I think they +merit. How, indeed, can these common magaseen and newspaper pipple know +anythink of fashnabble life, let alone ryal? + +Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has done reel good +on this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look through it, +for the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, and which I +think may be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick. + +For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that this is +no common catchpny book, like that of most authors and authoresses, who +write for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless you! the Dairy-maid is +above anything musnary. She is a woman of rank, and no mistake; and is +as much above doin a common or vulgar action as I am superaor to taking +beer after dinner with my cheese. She proves that most satisfackarily, +as we see in the following passidge:-- + + +“Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phrases +on different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes to have +published: her whole correspondence with the prince relative to Lady +J---'s dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the princess; and, finally, +the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland, +&c., at the time of the secret inquiry: when, if proof could have +been brought against her, it certainly would have been done; and which +acquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to the +justice of the nation in general, was not made public at the time. A +common criminal is publicly condemned or acquitted. Her royal highness +commanded me to have these letters published forthwith, saying, 'You may +sell them for a great sum.' At first (for she had spoken to me +before concerning this business), I thought of availing myself of the +opportunity; but upon second thoughts, I turned from this idea with +detestation: for, if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavoring +to serve her, I will do so at least from good and disinterested motives, +not from any sordid views. The princess commands me, and I will obey +her, whatever may be the issue; but not for fare or fee. I own I +tremble, not so much for myself, as for the idea that she is not taking +the best and most dignified way of having these papers published. Why +make a secret of it at all? If wrong, it should not be done; if right +it should be done openly, and in the face of her enemies. In her royal +highness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, why do +they shrink from straightforward dealings, and rather have recourse to +crooked policy? I wish, in this particular instance, I could make +her royal highness feel thus: but she is naturally indignant at being +falsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation.” + + +Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The Dairy-lady is +quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no favior! “I +won't do behind my back what I am ashamed of before my face: not I!” No +more she does; for you see that, though she was offered this manyscrip +by the princess FOR NOTHINK, though she knew that she could actially get +for it a large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble, +grateful, fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and never +will have recors to disguise or crookid polacy. This ought to be an +ansure to them RADICLE SNEERERS, who pretend that they are the equals +of fashnabble pepple; wheras it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar +roagues have no notion of honor. + +And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her ladyship +(long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!)--after this +positif declaration, that, even for the porpus of DEFENDING her +missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a peculiarly +consideration, it is actially asserted in the public prints by a +booxeller, that he has given her A THOUSAND POUND for the Dairy. A +thousand pound! nonsince!--it's a phigment! a base lible! This woman +take a thousand pound, in a matter where her dear mistriss, friend, and +benyfactriss was concerned! Never! A thousand baggonits would be more +prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion. + +But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of my +expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionally +vulgar, and not such as is genrally used in those exqizzit famlies which +I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in this book, wrote as +all the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of kings and queens +as if they were as common as sand-boys--there is in this book more +wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dare +TO THINK ON, and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I was a boy at +school. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his own: never mind spellin, +I say, so long as the sence is right. + +Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming lady of +honor; and a very nice corryspondent he is, too, without any mistake: + + +“Lady O---, poor Lady O---! knows the rules of prudence, I fear me, as +imperfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars: or she +hath let her brother, who is a sad swine, become master of her secrets, +and then contrived to quarrel with him. You would see the outline of the +melange in the newspapers; but not the report that Mr. S--- is about to +publish a pamphlet, as an addition to the Harleian Tracts, setting forth +the amatory adventures of his sister. We shall break our necks in haste +to buy it, of course crying 'Shameful' all the while; and it is said +that Lady O--- is to be cut, which I cannot entirely believe. Let her +tell two or three old women about town that they are young and handsome, +and give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep the society +which she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as they once +were, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with anything like +impunity. People were full as gallant many years ago. But the days are +gone by wherein my lord-protector of the commonwealth of England was +wont to go a lovemaking to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. + +“And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband at last, and +Miss Laura Manners left without a mate! She and Lord Stair should marry +and have children in mere revenge. As to Miss Gordon, she's a Venus well +suited for such a Vulcan,--whom nothing but money and a title could +have rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen wench. It is said that the +matrimonial correspondence between this couple is to be published, full +of sad scandalous relations, of which you may be sure scarcely a word +is true. In former times, the Duchess of St. A---s made use of these +elegant epistles in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone: but that ruse +would not avail; so in spite, they are to be printed. What a cargo +of amiable creatures! Yet will some people scarcely believe in the +existence of Pandemonium. + +“Tuesday Morning.--You are perfectly right respecting the hot rooms +here, which we all cry out against, and all find very comfortable--much +more so than the cold sands and bleak neighborhood of the sea; which +looks vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon crimson +damask, but hideous and shocking in reality. H--- and his 'elle' +(talking of parties) were last night at Cholmondeley House, but seem +not to ripen in their love. He is certainly good-humored, and I believe, +good-hearted, so deserves a good wife; but his cara seems a genuine +London miss made up of many affectations. Will she form a comfortable +helpmate? For me, I like not her origin, and deem many strange things to +run in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil. + +“Thursday.--I verily do believe that I shall never get to the end of +this small sheet of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have I had; +and now I have been to Vauxhall, and caught the toothache. I was of Lady +E. B---m and H---'s party: very dull--the Lady giving us all a supper +after our promenade-- + + + 'Much ado was there, God wot + She would love, but he would not.' + + +He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it: and +she 'faisoit les yeux doux' enough not only to have melted all the ice +which he swallowed, but his own hard heart into the bargain. The thing +will not do. In the meantime, Miss Long hath become quite cruel to +Wellesley Pole, and divides her favor equally between Lords Killeen and +Kilworth, two as simple Irishmen as ever gave birth to a bull. I wish +to Hymen that she were fairly married, for all this pother gives one a +disgusting picture of human nature.” + + +A disgusting pictur of human nature, indeed--and isn't he who moralizes +about it, and she to whom he writes, a couple of pretty heads in +the same piece? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, the scandle or the +scandle-mongers? See what it is to be a moral man of fashn. Fust, +he scrapes togither all the bad stoaries about all the people of +his acquentance--he goes to a ball, and laffs or snears at everybody +there--he is asked to a dinner, and brings away, along with meat and +wine to his heart's content, a sour stomick filled with nasty stories of +all the people present there. He has such a squeamish appytite, that all +the world seems to DISAGREE with him. And what has he got to say to his +delicate female frend? Why that-- + +Fust. Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady O---, his +sister, which everybody's goin to by. + +Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an usband; and that +all their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too. + +3. That Lord H. is going to be married; but there's some thing rong in +his wife's blood. + +4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two Irish lords. + +Wooden you phancy, now, that the author of such a letter, instead of +writin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin Vinegar Yard? +Would you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin to was a chased, modist +lady of honor, and mother of a famly? O trumpery! O morris! as Homer +says: this is a higeous pictur of manners, such as I weap to think of, +as evry morl man must weap. + +The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life: what follows +is about families even higher situated than the most fashnabble. Here +we have the princessregient, her daughter the Princess Sharlot, +her grandmamma the old quean, and her madjisty's daughters the two +princesses. If this is not high life, I don't know where it is to be +found; and it's pleasing to see what affeckshn and harmny rains in such +an exolted spear. + + +“Sunday 24th.--Yesterday, the princess went to meet the Princess +Charlotte at Kensington. Lady ---- told me that, when the latter +arrived, she rushed up to her mother, and said, 'For God's sake, be +civil to her,' meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. Lady +---- said she felt sorry for the latter; but when the Princess of Wales +talked to her, she soon became so free and easy, that one could not +have any FEELING about her FEELINGS. Princess Charlotte, I was told, was +looking handsome, very pale, but her head more becomingly dressed,--that +is to say, less dressed than usual. Her figure is of that full round +shape which is now in its prime; but she disfigures herself by wearing +her bodice so short, that she literally has no waist. Her feet are very +pretty; and so are her hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape of +her head. Her countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions to +play upon it; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, express so +many powerful and varied emotions. Lady ---- told me that the Princess +Charlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in a very +quiet, but determined way, she WOULD NOT BEAR IT, and that as soon as +parliament met, she intended to come to Warwick House, and remain there; +that she was also determined not to consider the Duchess of Leeds as +her GOVERNESS but only as her FIRST LADY. She made many observations +on other persons and subjects; and appears to be very quick, very +penetrating, but imperious and wilful. There is a tone of romance, too, +in her character, which will only serve to mislead her. + +“She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsor +between the queen and the prince, the former refusing to give up +Miss Knight from her own person to attend on Princess Charlotte as +sub-governess. But the prince-regent had gone to Windsor himself, and +insisted on her doing so; and the 'old Beguin' was forced to submit, +but has been ill ever since: and Sir Henry Halford declared it was a +complete breaking up of her constitution--to the great delight of the +two princesses, who were talking about this affair. Miss Knight was the +very person they wished to have; they think they can do as they like +with her. It has been ordered that the Princess Charlotte should not see +her mother alone for a single moment; but the latter went into her room, +stuffed a pair of large shoes full of papers, and having given them to +her daughter, she went home. Lady ---- told me everything was written +down and sent to Mr. Brougham NEXT DAY.” + + +See what discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies. Here +are six of 'em--viz., the quean and her two daughters, her son, and his +wife and daughter; and the manner in which they hate one another is a +compleat puzzle. + + {his mother. + The Prince hates... {his wife. + {his daughter. + + Princess Charlotte hates her father. + + Princess of Wales hates her husband. + +The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death; and her two +jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a happy, fashnabble, +Christian famly! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if this is the way in the +drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live below, in pease and charaty with +all men; writin, as I am now, in my pantry, or els havin a quiet game at +cards in the servants-all. With US there's no bitter, wicked, quarling +of this sort. WE don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish +'em ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and queens +do. When we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, WE don't fill +our letters with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of our +fellow-servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does. But, +in coarse, it's not for us to judge of our betters;--these great people +are a supeerur race, and we can't comprehend their ways. + +Do you recklect--it's twenty years ago now--how a bewtiffle princess +died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole nation of Hengland +wep, as though it was one man, over that sweet woman and child, in which +were sentered the hopes of every one of us, and of which each was as +proud as of his own wife or infnt? Do you recklect how pore fellows +spent their last shillin to buy a black crape for their hats, and +clergymen cried in the pulpit, and the whole country through was no +better than a great dismal funeral? Do you recklet, Mr. Yorke, who +was the person that we all took on so about? We called her the Princis +Sharlot of Wales; and we valyoud a single drop of her blood more than +the whole heartless body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as a +kind of saint or angle, and blest God (such foolish loyal English pipple +as we ware in those days) who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. +But heaven bless you! it was only souperstition. She was no better than +she should be, as it turns out--or at least the Dairy-maid says so. No +better?--if my daughters or yours was 1/2 so bad, we'd as leaf be dead +ourselves, and they hanged. But listen to this pritty charritable story, +and a truce to reflexshuns:-- + + +“Sunday, January, 9, 1814.--Yesterday, according to appointment, I went +to Princess Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp-player, Dizzi; +was asked to remain and listen to his performance, but was talked to +during the whole time, which completely prevented all possibility of +listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her daughter were in +the room, but left it soon. Next arrived Miss Knight, who remained all +the time I was there. Princess Charlotte was very gracious--showed me +all her bonny dyes, as B---would have called them--pictures, and cases, +and jewels, &c. She talked in a very desultory way, and it would be +difficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very low +spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise? This +QUESTIONING answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves two +purposes--i.e. avoids committing oneself, or giving offence by silence. +There was hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst others, that +very much resembled the Duke of D---. I asked Miss Knight whom it +represented. She said that was not known; it had been supposed a +likeness of the Pretender, when young. This answer suited my thoughts so +comically I could have laughed, if one ever did at courts anything but +the contrary of what one was inclined to do. + +“Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in her +countenance--a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen in +connection with such soft and shadeless coloring. Her hands and arms +are beautiful; but I think her figure is already gone, and will soon be +precisely like her mother's: in short it is the very picture of her, and +NOT IN MINIATURE. I could not help analyzing my own sensations during +the time I was with her, and thought more of them than I did of her. Why +was I at all flattered, at all more amused, at all more supple to this +young princess, than to her who is only the same sort of person set +in the shade of circumstances and of years? It is that youth, and the +approach of power, and the latent views of self-interest, sway the heart +and dazzle the understanding. If this is so with a heart not, I trust, +corrupt, and a head not particularly formed for interested calculations, +what effect must not the same causes produce on the generality of +mankind? + +“In the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived to +edge in a good deal of tum-de-dy, and would, if I had entered into +the thing, have gone on with it, while looking at a little picture of +herself, which had about thirty or forty different dresses to put over +it, done on isinglass, and which allowed the general coloring of the +picture to be seen through its transparency. It was, I thought, a pretty +enough conceit, though rather like dressing up a doll. 'Ah!,' said Miss +Knight, 'I am not content though, madame--for I yet should have liked +one more dress--that of the favorite Sultana.' + +“'No, no!' said the princess, 'I never was a favorite, and never can be +one,'--looking at a picture which she said was her father's, but which +I do not believe was done for the regent any more than for me, but +represented a young man in a hussar's dress--probably a former favorite. + +“The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that was +taken of her birthday. After keeping me for two hours and a half she +dismissed me; and I am sure I could not say what she said, except that +it was an olio of decousus and heterogeneous things, partaking of the +characteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger scion. I dined +tete-a-tete with my dear old aunt: hers is always a sweet and soothing +society to me.” + + +There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you! An innocent young +thing of fifteen has picturs of TWO lovers in her room, and expex a +good number more. This dellygate young creature EDGES in a good deal of +TUMDEDY (I can't find it in Johnson's Dixonary), and would have GONE ON +WITH THE THING (ellygence of languidge), if the dairy-lady would have +let her. + +Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't beleave a single +syllible of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust place, +that the princess would have talked a good deal of TUMDEDY: which means, +I suppose, indeasnsy, if she, the lady of honner WOULD HAVE LET HER. +This IS a good one! Why, she lets every body else talk tumdedy to their +hearts' content; she lets her friends WRITE tumdedy, and, after keeping +it for a quarter of a sentry, she PRINTS it. Why then, be so squeamish +about HEARING a little! And, then, there's the stoary of the two +portricks. This woman has the honner to be received in the frendlyest +manner by a British princess; and what does the grateful loyal creature +do? 2 picturs of the princess's relations are hanging in her room, and +the Dairy-woman swears away the poor young princess's carrickter, by +swearing they are picturs of her LOVERS. For shame, oh, for shame! you +slanderin backbitin dairy-woman you! If you told all them things to +your “dear old aunt,” on going to dine with her, you must have had very +“sweet and soothing society” indeed. + +I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write about; but +I think I have said enough about this Dairy: in fack, the butler, and +the gals in the servants'-hall are not well pleased that I should go +on reading this naughty book; so we'll have no more of it, only one +passidge about Pollytics, witch is sertnly quite new:-- + + +“No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the Crown +Prince, from the intimate knowledge he possessed of his character. +Bernadotte was also instigated against Bonaparte by one who not only +owed him a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind equal to his, and +who gave the Crown Prince both information and advice how to act. This +was no less a person than Madame de Stael. It was not, as some have +asserted, THAT SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH BERNADOTTE; for, at the time of +their intimacy, MADAME DE STAEL WAS IN LOVE WITH ROCCA. But she used her +influence (which was not small) with the Crown Prince, to make him +fight against Bonaparte, and to her wisdom may be attributed much of the +success which accompanied his attack upon him. Bernadotte has raised the +flame of liberty, which seems fortunately to blaze all around. May it +liberate Europe; and from the ashes of the laurel may olive branches +spring up, and overshadow the earth!” + + +There's a discuvery! that the overthrow of Boneypart is owing to MADAME +DE STAEL! What nonsince for Colonel Southey or Doctor Napier to write +histories of the war with that Capsican hupstart and murderer, when here +we have the whole affair explaned by the lady of honor! + + +“Sunday, April 10, 1814.--The incidents which take place every hour are +miraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive; subdued, but allowed to +choose his place of residence. The island of Elba is the spot he has +selected for his ignominious retreat. France is holding forth repentant +arms to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. +to the scaffold are presenting flowers to the Emperor of Russia, +the restorer of their legitimate king! What a stupendous field for +philosophy to expatiate in! What an endless material for thought! What +humiliation to the pride of mere human greatness! How are the mighty +fallen! Of all that was great in Napoleon, what remains? Despoiled +of his usurped power, he sinks to insignificance. There was no +moral greatness in the man. The meteor dazzled, scorched, is put +out,--utterly, and for ever. But the power which rests in those who have +delivered the nations from bondage, is a power that is delegated to them +from heaven; and the manner in which they have used it is a guarantee +for its continuance. The Duke of Wellington has gained laurels unstained +by any useless flow of blood. He has done more than conquer others--he +has conquered himself: and in the midst of the blaze and flush of +victory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not been betrayed +into the commission of any act of cruelty or wanton offence. He was as +cool and self-possessed under the blaze and dazzle of fame as a common +man would be under the shade of his garden-tree, or by the hearth of his +home. But the tyrant who kept Europe in awe is now a pitiable object for +scorn to point the finger of derision at: and humanity shudders as it +remembers the scourge with which this man's ambition was permitted to +devastate every home tie, and every heartfelt joy.” + + +And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflections and +pious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall only quot +one little extrak more:-- + + +“All goes gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell told +me she regrets not seeing all these curious personages; but she says, +the more the princess is forsaken, the more happy she is at having +offered to attend her at this time. THIS IS VERY AMIABLE IN HER, and +cannot fail to be gratifying to the princess.” + + +So it is--wery amiable, wery kind and considerate in her, indeed. Poor +Princess! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you for your own +sake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its back kep steady to +you. As for believing that Lady Sharlot had any hand in this book,* +heaven forbid! she is all gratitude, pure gratitude, depend upon it. SHE +would not go for to blacken her old frend and patron's carrickter, after +having been so outrageously faithful to her; SHE wouldn't do it, at no +price, depend upon it. How sorry she must be that others an't quite +so squemish, and show up in this indesent way the follies of her kind, +genrus, foolish bennyfactris! + + +* The “authorized” announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets this +question at rest. It is declared that her ladyship is not the writer of +the Diary.--O. Y. + + + + +EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. + + +CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. + +JOHN THOMAS SMITH, ESQ., TO C--S Y--H, ESQ. + + +NOTUS. + + +The suckmstansies of the following harticle are as follos:--Me and +my friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each other in the +Haymarket Theatre, during the performints of the new play. I was settn +in the gallery, and sung out to him (he was in the pit), to jine us +after the play, over a glass of bear and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, +the family being out. + +Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of the comady; +and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a letter to the +other, giving our notiums of the pease. Paper was brought that momint; +and Smith writing his harticle across the knife-bord, I dasht off mine +on the dresser. + +Our agreement was, that I (being remarkabble for my style of riting) +should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up with the plot +of the play; and the candied reader will parding me for having holtered +the original address of my letter, and directed it to Sir Edward +himself; and for having incopperated Smith's remarks in the midst of my +own:-- + + +MAYFAIR, Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite. + +HONRABBLE BARNET!--Retired from the littery world a year or moar, I +didn't think anythink would injuice me to come forrards again: for I +was content with my share of reputation, and propoas'd to add nothink to +those immortial wux which have rendered this Magaseen so sallybrated. + +Shall I tell you the reazn of my re-appearants?--a desire for the +benefick of my fellow-creatures? Fiddlestick! A mighty truth with which +my busm labored, and which I must bring forth or die? Nonsince--stuff: +money's the secret, my dear Barnet,--money--l'argong, gelt, spicunia. +Here's quarter-day coming, and I'm blest if I can pay my landlud, unless +I can ad hartificially to my inkum. + +This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to blacard the +streets with it, or to tell the British public that Fitzroy Y-ll-wpl-sh +is short of money, or that the sallybrated hauthor of the Y--- Papers is +in peskewniary difficklties, or is fiteagued by his superhuman littery +labors, or by his famly suckmstansies, or by any other pusnal matter: +my maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be as quiet as posbile. What +the juice does the public care for you or me? Why must we always, in +prefizzes and what not, be a-talking about ourselves and our igstrodnary +merrats, woas, and injaries? It is on this subjick that I porpies, my +dear Barnet, to speak to you in a frendly way; and praps you'll find my +advise tolrabbly holesum. + +Well, then,--if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil, of us +poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like you, Barnet. +I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entry nou, that last stoary I +roat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir as ever was)--I've had +my fling at you; but I like you. One may objeck to an immense deal of +your writings, which, betwigst you and me, contain more sham scentiment, +sham morallaty, sham poatry, than you'd like to own; but, in spite of +this, there's the STUFF in you: you've a kind and loyal heart in you, +Barnet--a trifle deboshed, perhaps; a kean i, igspecially for what's +comic (as for your tradgady, it's mighty flatchulent), and a ready +plesnt pen. The man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don't +believe him, Barnet! not that I suppose you wil,--for, if I've formed +a correck apinion of you from your wucks, you think your small-beear as +good as most men's: every man does,--and why not? We brew, and we love +our own tap--amen; but the pint betwigst us, is this stewpid, absudd way +of crying out, because the public don't like it too. Why shood they, +my dear Barnet? You may vow that they are fools; or that the critix are +your enemies; or that the wuld should judge your poams by your critticle +rules, and not their own: you may beat your breast, and vow you are a +marter, and you won't mend the matter. Take heart, man! you're not so +misrabble after all: your spirits need not be so VERY cast down; you are +not so VERY badly paid. I'd lay a wager that you make, with one thing +or another--plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and +there--your three thowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig that +works for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you? Three thowsnd a +year is no such bad thing,--let alone the barnetcy: it must be a great +comfort to have that bloody hand in your skitching. + +But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and fond +of a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints,--this ceaseless +groning, and moning, and wining of yours, is igsackly the thing which +makes people laff and snear more? If you were ever at a great school, +you must recklect who was the boy most bullid, and buffited, and +purshewd--he who minded it most. He who could take a basting got but +few; he who rord and wep because the knotty boys called him nicknames, +was nicknamed wuss and wuss. I recklect there was at our school, in +Smithfield, a chap of this milksop, spoony sort, who appeared among the +romping, ragged fellers in a fine flanning dressing-gownd, that his mama +had given him. That pore boy was beaten in a way that his dear ma and +aunts didn't know him; his fine flanning dressing-gownd was torn all to +ribbings, and he got no pease in the school ever after, but was abliged +to be taken to some other saminary, where, I make no doubt, he was paid +off igsactly in the same way. + +Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet? Mutayto nominy--you know what +I mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy is the dressing-gownd. You +dress yourself out finer than other chaps and they all begin to sault +and hustle you; it's human nature, Barnet. You show weakness, think +of your dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry: it's all over with you; +the whole school is at you--upper boys and under, big and little; the +dirtiest little fag in the place will pipe out blaggerd names at you, +and takes his pewny tug at your tail. + +The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of stowt +shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggymuffins. A good +bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, “Wha dares meddle wi' me?” When +Scott got HIS barnetcy, for instans, did any one of us cry out? No, by +the laws, he was our master; and wo betide the chap that said neigh to +him! But there's barnets and barnets. Do you recklect that fine chapter +in “Squintin Durward,” about the too fellos and cups, at the siege of +the bishop's castle? One of them was a brave warner, and kep HIS cup; +they strangled the other chap--strangled him, and laffed at him too. + +With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice: brazen it +out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of schoolboys--childish, +greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always ready to fight. What +must be a man's conduck among such? He must either take no notis, and +pass on myjastick, or else turn round and pummle soundly--one, two, +right and left, ding dong over the face and eyes; above all, never +acknowledge that he is hurt. Years ago, for instans (we've no ill-blood, +but only mention this by way of igsample), you began a sparring with +this Magaseen. Law bless you, such a ridicklus gaym I never see: a man +so belaybord, beflustered, bewolloped, was never known; it was the laff +of the whole town. Your intelackshal natur, respected Barnet, is not +fizzickly adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You must +not indulge in combats with us course bullies of the press: you have not +the STAMINY for a reglar set-to. What, then, is your plan? In the midst +of the mob to pass as quiet as you can: you won't be undistubbed. Who +is? Some stray kix and buffits will fall to you--mortial man is subjick +to such; but if you begin to wins and cry out, and set up for a marter, +wo betide you! + +These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure you, +written in perfick good-natur, and have been inspired by your play of +the “Sea Capting,” and prefiz to it; which latter is on matters intirely +pusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this kind of ad hominam +(as they say) disk-cushion. I propose, honrabble Barnit, to cumsider +calmly this play and prephiz, and to speak of both with that honisty +which, in the pantry or studdy, I've been always phamous for. Let us, +in the first place, listen to the opening of the “Preface of the Fourth +Edition:” + + +“No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults and +deficiencies to be found in this play; but, perhaps, when it is +considered how very rarely it has happened in the history of our +dramatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, except by +those who have either been actors themselves, or formed their habits of +literature, almost of life, behind the scenes, I might have looked for +a criticism more generous, and less exacting and rigorous, than that +by which the attempts of an author accustomed to another class of +composition have been received by a large proportion of the periodical +press. + +“It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain +faults of two kinds, first, the faults of one who has necessarily much +to learn in the mechanism of his art; and, secondly, of one who, having +written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not unfrequently +mistake the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add to +these, perhaps, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health and +broken spirits, which render the author more susceptible than he might +have been some years since to that spirit of depreciation and hostility +which it has been his misfortune to excite amongst the general +contributors to the periodical press for the consciousness that every +endeavor will be made to cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in +fine, if possible, to RUN DOWN, will occasionally haunt even the hours +of composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. + +“Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope that +I may ultimately do better, should I continue to write for the stage +(which nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I may yet +bring some little aid to the drama, at a time when any aid, however +humble, ought to be welcome to the lovers of the art, could induce me to +do), may I be permitted to say a few words as to some of the objections +which have been made against this play?” + + +Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put forrards +here, why your play shouldn't be good. + +First. Good plays are almost always written by actors. + +Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. + +Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade, +and not a play-writer. + +Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. + +Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. + +For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these,--what painful +pewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven or +eight and thutty years old--“in the morning of youth,” as the flosofer +says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What, +you, an old hand amongst us,--an old soljer of our sovring quean the +press,--you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay, +and DESERVED them too!--I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, “I +AM a man of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says so”),--you to lose heart, and cry +pickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys fling stones at you! +Fie, man! take courage; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, +as the poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man, +or bear your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such +misrabble lodgic as that above. + +What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (the +secknd is naught,--for your no such chicking at play-writing, this being +the forth). You show that the play must be bad, and THEN begin to deal +with the critix for finding folt! + +Was there ever wuss generalship? The play IS bad,--your right--a wuss I +never see or read. But why kneed YOU say so? If it was so VERY bad, why +publish it? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO SERVE THE DRAMA! O fie! don't lay that +flattering function to your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believe +that this “Sea Capting” can serve the drama? Did you never intend that +it should serve anything, or anybody ELSE? Of cors you did! You wrote it +for money,--money from the maniger, money from the bookseller,--for the +same reason that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very same +reasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Away +with this canting about great motifs! Let us not be too prowd, my dear +Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters or apostels. +We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and not for righteousness' +sake. Let's try and work honestly; but don't let us be prayting pompisly +about our “sacred calling.” The taylor who makes your coats (and very +well they are made too, with the best of velvit collars)--I say Stulze, +or Nugee, might cry out that THEIR motifs were but to assert the eturnle +truth of tayloring, with just as much reazn; and who would believe them? + +Well; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come sefral pages +of attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry have found with it. +With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You defend all the characters +1 by 1, and conclude your remarks as follows:-- + + +“I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs. When every +means is employed to misrepresent, it becomes, perhaps, allowable to +explain. And if I do not think that my faults as a dramatic author are +to be found in the study and delineation of character, it is precisely +because THAT is the point on which all my previous pursuits in +literature and actual life would be most likely to preserve me from the +errors I own elsewhere, whether of misjudgment or inexperience. + +“I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and talent +with which they have embodied the characters entrusted to them. The +sweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit embellished the part of +Violet, which, though only a sketch, is most necessary to the coloring +and harmony of the play, were perhaps the more pleasing to the audience +from the generosity, rare with actors, which induced her to take a +part so far inferior to her powers. The applause which attends the +performance of Mrs. Warner and Mr. Strickland attests their success +in characters of unusual difficulty; while the singular beauty and +nobleness, whether of conception or execution, with which the greatest +of living actors has elevated the part of Norman (so totally different +from his ordinary range of character), is a new proof of his versatility +and accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be scarcely +gracious to conclude these remarks without expressing my acknowledgment +of that generous and indulgent sense of justice which, forgetting all +political differences in a literary arena, has enabled me to appeal to +approving audiences--from hostile critics. And it is this which alone +encourages me to hope that, sooner or later, I may add to the dramatic +literature of my country something that may find, perhaps, almost as +many friends in the next age as it has been the fate of the author to +find enemies in this.” + + +See, now, what a good comfrabble vanaty is! Pepple have quarld with the +dramatic characters of your play. “No,” says you; “if I AM remarkabble +for anythink, it's for my study and delineation of character; THAT is +presizely the pint to which my littery purshuits have led me.” Have you +read “Jil Blaw,” my dear sir? Have you pirouzed that exlent tragady, the +“Critic?” There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and the +Archbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't laff till my sides +ake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which you are +famus!--the roags! And spose they had said the plot was absudd, or the +langwitch absudder still, don't you think you would have had a word in +defens of them too--you who hope to find frends for your dramatic wux +in the nex age? Poo! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will be +wiser and better than this; and do you think that it will imply itself a +reading of your trajadies? This is misantrofy, Barnet--reglar Byronism; +and you ot to have a better apinian of human natur. + +Your apinion about the actors I shan't here meddle with. They all acted +exlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your write in giving +them all possible prays. But let's consider the last sentence of the +prefiz, my dear Barnet, and see what a pretty set of apiniuns you lay +down. + +1. The critix are your inymies in this age. + +2. In the nex, however, you hope to find newmrous frends. + +3. And it's a satisfackshn to think that, in spite of politticle +diffrances, you have found frendly aujences here. + +Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with what my friend +Father Prout calls an argamantum ad misericorjam, who ignowledges that +his play is bad, that his pore dear helth is bad, and those cussid +critix have played the juice with him--I say, for a man who beginns in +such a humbill toan, it's rather RICH to see how you end. + +My dear Barnet, DO you suppose that POLITTICLE DIFFRANCES prejudice +pepple against YOU? What ARE your politix? Wig, I presume--so are mine, +ontry noo. And what if they ARE Wig, or Raddiccle, or Cumsuvvative? Does +any mortial man in England care a phig for your politix? Do you think +yourself such a mity man in parlymint, that critix are to be angry with +you, and aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because they treat you +fairly? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat the “Rifles” and “School +for Scandle” (I saw the “Rifles” after your play, and, O Barnet, if +you KNEW what a relief it was!)--there, I say, was Sherridn--he WAS a +politticle character, if you please--he COULD make a spitch or two--do +you spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third +himself, wooden go to see the “Rivles”--ay, and clap hands too, and +laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery? Do you spose the critix wouldn't +applaud too? For shame, Barnet! what ninnis, what hartless raskles, you +must beleave them to be,--in the fust plase, to fancy that you are a +politticle genus; in the secknd, to let your politix interfear with +their notiums about littery merits! + +“Put that nonsince out of your head,” as Fox said to Bonypart. Wasn't +it that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's time, +who fansid that the French king wooden make pease unless Dennis +was delivered up to him? Upon my wud, I doan't think he carrid +his diddlusion much further than a serting honrabble barnet of my +aquentance. + +And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another diddlusion; +a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y--sh. These plays +immortial? Ah, parrysampe, as the French say, this is too strong--the +small-beer of the “Sea Capting,” or of any suxessor of the “Sea +Capting,” to keep sweet for sentries and sentries! Barnet, Barnet! do +you know the natur of bear? Six weeks is not past, and here your last +casque is sour--the public won't even now drink it; and I lay a wager +that, betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and the end of the +year, the barl will be off the stox altogether, never, never to return. + +I've notted down a few frazes here and there, which you will do well do +igsamin:-- + + + NORMAN. + + “The eternal Flora + Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind; + While circling round and upwards from the boughs, + Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, + Melody, like a happy soul released, + Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes + Shakes sweetness down!” + + + NORMAN. + + “And these the lips + Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss + Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left + By ANGELS when they touch the earth and vanish.” + + + NORMAN. + + “Hark! she has blessed her son! I bid ye witness, + Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air: + The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur + Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes + Aloud--aloft--to the Great Parent's ear, + The blessing of the mother on her child.” + + + NORMAN. + + “I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart + Mingled with mine--a deathless heritage, + Which I can take unsullied to the STARS, + When the Great Father calls his children home.” + + + NORMAN. + + “The blue air, breathless in the STARRY peace, + After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled + With happy thoughts as heaven with ANGELS.” + + + NORMAN. + + “Till one calm night, when over earth and wave + Heaven looked its love from all its numberless STARS.” + + + NORMAN. + + “Those eyes, the guiding STARS by which I steered.” + + + NORMAN. + + “That great mother + (The only parent I have known), whose face + Is bright with gazing ever on the STARS-- + The mother-sea.” + + + NORMAN. + + “My bark shall be our home; + The STARS that light the ANGEL palaces + Of air, our lamps.” + + + NORMAN. + + “A name that glitters, like a STAR, amidst + The galaxy of England's loftiest born.” + + + LADY ARUNDEL. + + “And see him princeliest of the lion tribe, + Whose swords and coronals gleam around the throne, + The guardian STARS of the imperial isle.” + + +The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the papers, as real, +reglar poatry. Those wickid critix! they must have been laffing in their +sleafs when they quoted it. Malody, suckling round and uppards from the +bows, like a happy soul released, hangs in the air, and from invizable +plumes shakes sweetness down. Mighty fine, truly! but let mortial man +tell the meannink of the passidge. Is it MUSICKLE sweetniss that Malody +shakes down from its plumes--its wings, that is, or tail--or some +pekewliar scent that proceeds from happy souls released, and which they +shake down from the trees when they are suckling round and uppards? IS +this poatry, Barnet? Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly: +Is it poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, and +won't bear the commanest test of comman sence? + +In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though in a more +comprehensable way: the air, the leaves, the otion, are fild with +emocean at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore Nature is dragged in to +partisapate in his joys, just as she has been befor. Once in a poem, +this universle simfithy is very well; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet: +and that once should be in some great suckmstans, surely,--such as the +meeting of Adam and Eve, in “Paradice Lost,” or Jewpeter and Jewno, in +Hoamer, where there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. But sea-captings +should not be eternly spowting and invoking gods, hevns, starrs, angels, +and other silestial influences. We can all do it, Barnet; nothing in +life is esier. I can compare my livry buttons to the stars, or the +clouds of my backopipe to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna; +or I can say that angels are looking down from them, and the tobacco +silf, like a happy sole released, is circling round and upwards, and +shaking sweetness down. All this is as esy as drink; but it's not +poatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers reckonize them, +don't howl about the suckumambient air, and paws to think of the happy +leaves a-rustling--at least, one mistrusts them if they do. Take +another instans out of your own play. Capting Norman (with his eternil +SLACK-JAW!) meets the gal of his art:-- + + + “Look up, look up, my Violet--weeping? fie! + And trembling too--yet leaning on my breast. + In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter. + Look up! I come to woo thee to the seas, + My sailor's bride! Hast thou no voice but blushes? + Nay--From those roses let me, like the bee, + Drag forth the secret sweetness! + + + VIOLET. + + “Oh what thoughts + Were kept for SPEECH when we once more should meet, + Now blotted from the PAGE; and all I feel + Is--THOU art with me!” + + +Very right, Miss Violet--the scentiment is natral, affeckshnit, +pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge, and +no harm done); but never mind, the feeling is pritty; and I can fancy, +my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weeping lass, looking up in a man's +face and saying it. But the capting!--oh, this capting!--this windy, +spouting captain, with his prittinesses, and conseated apollogies for +the hardness of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies, and his +wishes to be a bee! Pish! Men don't make love in this finniking +way. It's the part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a galliant +gentleman, in command of one of her Madjisty's vessels of war. + +Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknollidge that +Capting Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with his endless jabber +about stars and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist of Lady +Arundel's spitch, too, who, in the corse of three lines, has made her +son a prince, a lion, with a sword and coronal, and a star. Why jumble +and sheak up metafors in this way? Barnet, one simily is quite enuff in +the best of sentenses (and I preshume I kneedn't tell you that it's as +well to have it LIKE, when you are about it). Take my advise, honrabble +sir--listen to a humble footmin: it's genrally best in poatry to +understand puffickly what you mean yourself, and to ingspress your +meaning clearly afterwoods--in the simpler words the better, praps. You +may, for instans, call a coronet a coronal (an “ancestral coronal,” p. +74) if you like, as you might call a hat a “swart sombrero,” “a glossy +four-and-nine,” “a silken helm, to storm impermeable, and lightsome as +the breezy gossamer;” but, in the long run, it's as well to call it +a hat. It IS a hat; and that name is quite as poetticle as another. I +think it's Playto, or els Harrystottle, who observes that what we call a +rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Confess, now, dear Barnet, +don't you long to call it a Polyanthus? + +I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry you seem to +have bean, that you have actially in some sentences forgot to put in the +sence. What is this, for instance?-- + + + “This thrice precious one + Smiled to my eyes--drew being from my breast-- + Slept in my arms;--the very tears I shed + Above my treasures were to men and angels + Alike such holy sweetness!” + + +In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked--Raphael, Gabriel, +Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael--what does this “holy sweetness” mean? We're not +spinxes to read such durk conandrums. If you knew my state sins I came +upon this passidg--I've neither slep nor eton; I've neglected my pantry; +I've been wandring from house to house with this riddl in my hand, and +nobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomy +at one another, and asking what this may be. All the cumtributors have +been spoak to. The Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried and +giv'n up; we've sent to Docteur Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics a +deal ezier than my way of spellin'--no anser. Quick! quick with a +fifth edition, honored Barnet, and set us at rest! While your about it, +please, too, to igsplain the two last lines:-- + + + “His merry bark with England's flag to crown her.” + + +See what dellexy of igspreshn, “a flag to crown her!” + + + “His merry bark with England's flag to crown her, + Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares.” + + +Likewise the following:-- + + + “Girl, beware, + THE LOVE THAT TRIFLES ROUND THE CHARMS IT GILDS + OFT RUINS WHILE IT SHINES.” + + +Igsplane this, men and angels! I've tried every way; backards, forards, +and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus:-- + + + The love that ruins round the charms it shines, + Gilds while it trifles oft; + +Or, + + The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, + Oft trifles while it shines; + +Or, + + The ruins that love gilds and shines around, + Oft trifles where it charms; + +Or, + + Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, + The trifles that it gilds; + +Or, + + The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, + While round the charms it shines. + + +All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. + +And with this I'll alow my friend Smith, who has been silent all this +time, to say a few words. He has not written near so much as me (being +an infearor genus, betwigst ourselves), but he says he never had such +mortial difficklty with anything as with the dixcripshn of the plott of +your pease. Here his letter:-- + + +To CH-RL-S F-TZR-Y PL-NT-G-N-T Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., &c. &c. + +30th Nov. 1839. + +MY DEAR AND HONORED SIR,--I have the pleasure of laying before you the +following description of the plot, and a few remarks upon the style of +the piece called “The Sea Captain.” + +Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a daughter, +heiress of his estates and property; a poor cousin, Sir Maurice Beevor +(being next in succession); and a page, Arthur Le Mesnil by name. + +The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young persons were +married unknown to his lordship. + +Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that period +favorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed to run away +together, and had reached a chapel near on the sea-coast, from which +they were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put a stop to their +proceedings by causing one Gaussen, a pirate, to murder the page. + +His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three days, gave +birth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of this birth I cannot say; +the infant, however, was never acknowledged, but carried by Sir Maurice +Beevor to a priest, Onslow by name, who educated the lad and kept him +for twelve years in profound ignorance of his birth. The boy went by the +name of Norman. + +Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a widow, but had a +second son, who was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord Ashdale. Old +Lord Arundel died, and her ladyship became countess in her own right. + +When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who wished to +“WAFT young Arthur to a distant land,” had him sent on board ship. Who +should the captain of the ship be but Gaussen, who received a smart +bribe from Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the lad. Accordingly, Gaussen tied +him to a plank, and pitched him overboard. + + . . . . . . + +About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan niece +of Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass a few weeks with her +ladyship. She had just come from a sea-voyage, and had been saved from a +wicked Algerine by an English sea captain. This sea captain was no other +than Norman, who had been picked up off his plank, and fell in love +with, and was loved by, Miss Violet. + +A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain came to +pay her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady Arundel's +residence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue Gaussen's ship anchored +in the harbor too. Gaussen at once knew his man, for he had “tracked” + him, (after drowning him,) and he informed Sir Maurice Beevor that young +Norman was alive. + +Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should she get rid of him? +In this wise. He was in love with Violet, let him marry her and be off; +for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin too; and, of course, could +not marry a young woman in her station of life. “You have a chaplain on +board,” says her ladyship to Captain Norman; “let him attend to-night +in the ruined chapel, marry Violet, and away with you to sea.” By this +means she hoped to be quit of him forever. + +But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor, and +reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel and carry +off Violet; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel to kill both +Ashdale and Norman; thus there would only be Lady Arundel between him +and the title. + +Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the chapel, had just +seen his worthy old friend, the priest, most barbarously murdered there. +Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon him; his reverence was coming +with the papers concerning Norman's birth, which Beevor wanted in order +to extort money from the countess. Gaussen was, however, obliged to run +before he got the papers; and the clergyman had time, before he died, +to tell Norman the story, and give him the documents, with which Norman +sped off to the castle to have an interview with his mother. + +He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to be left alone +with her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room, surlily quits it; +but, going out, cunningly puts on Norman's cloak. “It will be dark,” + says he, “down at the chapel; Violet won't know me; and, egad! I'll run +off with her!” + +Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges him, for she cannot +help it; but will not embrace him, love him, or have anything to do with +him. + +Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there waiting to marry him +to Violet, his boat was there to carry him on board his ship, and Violet +was there, too. + +“Norman,” says she, in the dark, “dear Norman, I knew you by your white +cloak; here I am.” And she and the man in a cloak go off to the inner +chapel to be married. + +There waits Master Gaussen; he has seized the chaplain and the boat's +crew, and is just about to murder the man in the cloak, when-- + +NORMAN rushes in and cuts him down, much to the surprise of Miss, for +she never suspected it was sly Ashdale who had come, as we have seen, +disguised, and very nearly paid for his masquerading. + +Ashdale is very grateful; but, when Norman persists in marrying Violet, +he says--no, he shan't. He shall fight; he is a coward if he doesn't +fight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he WON'T fight; and-- + +Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rushing in, says, +“Hold! this is your brother, Percy--your elder brother!” Here is some +restiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by embracing his brother. + +Norman burns all the papers; vows he will never peach; reconciles +himself with his mother; says he will go loser; but, having ordered his +ship to “veer” round to the chapel, orders it to veer back again, for he +will pass the honeymoon at Arundel Castle. + +As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that there are +one or two very good notions in this plot. But the author does not fail, +as he would modestly have us believe, from ignorance of stage-business; +he seems to know too much, rather than too little, about the stage; to +be too anxious to cram in effects, incidents, perplexities. There is +the perplexity concerning Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and the +priest's murder, and the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. There is +the perplexity about the papers, and that about the hat and cloak, (a +silly, foolish obstacle,) which only tantalize the spectator, and retard +the march of the drama's action: it is as if the author had said, +“I must have a new incident in every act, I must keep tickling the +spectator perpetually, and never let him off until the fall of the +curtain.” + +The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of intrigue you may +remark in the author's drama of “Richelieu.” “The Lady of Lyons” was a +much simpler and better wrought plot; the incidents following each other +either not too swiftly or startlingly. In “Richelieu,” it always seemed +to me as if one heard doors perpetually clapping and banging; one +was puzzled to follow the train of conversation, in the midst of the +perpetual small noises that distracted one right and left. + +Nor is the list of characters of “The Sea Captain” to be despised. The +outlines of all of them are good. A mother, for whom one feels a proper +tragic mixture of hatred and pity; a gallant single-hearted son, whom +she disdains, and who conquers her at last by his noble conduct; a +dashing haughty Tybalt of a brother; a wicked poor cousin, a pretty +maid, and a fierce buccaneer. These people might pass three hours very +well on the stage, and interest the audience hugely; but the author +fails in filling up the outlines. His language is absurdly stilted, +frequently careless; the reader or spectator hears a number of loud +speeches, but scarce a dozen lines that seem to belong of nature to the +speakers. + +Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the continual +sham-religious clap-traps which the author has put into the mouth of +his hero; nothing more unsailor-like than his namby-pamby starlit +descriptions, which my ingenious colleague has, I see, alluded to. “Thy +faith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven,” cries the gallant captain to +his lady. See how loosely the sentence is constructed, like a thousand +others in the book. The captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faith +in her own eyes; either image might pass by itself, but together, like +the quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The captain tells +his lieutenant to BID HIS BARK VEER ROUND to a point in the harbor. Was +ever such language? My lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand pounds to WAFT +him (her son) to some distant shore. Nonsense, sheer nonsense; and what +is worse, affected nonsense! + +Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. “There is a great deal of game on +the estate--partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and plovers (SMACKING +HIS LIPS)--besides a magnificent preserve of sparrows, which I can sell +TO THE LITTLE BLACKGUARDS in the streets at a penny a hundred. But I am +very poor--a very poor old knight!” + +Is this wit or nature? It is a kind of sham wit; it reads as if it were +wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the little blackguard +boys! what flimsy ecstasies and silly “smacking of lips” about the +plovers. Is this the man who writes for the next age? O fie! Here is +another joke:-- + + + “Sir Maurice. Mice! zounds, how can I + Keep mice! I can't afford it! They were starved + To death an age ago. The last was found + Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone + In that same larder, so consumed and worn + By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it! + I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, + And set it in the porch--a solemn warning + To thieves and beggars!” + + +Is not this rare wit? “Zounds! how can I keep mice?” is well enough for +a miser; not too new, or brilliant either; but this miserable dilution +of a thin joke, this wretched hunting down of the poor mouse! It is +humiliating to think of a man of esprit harping so long on such a mean, +pitiful string. A man who aspires to immortality, too! I doubt whether +it is to be gained thus; whether our author's words are not too loosely +built to make “starry pointing pyramids of.” Horace clipped and squared +his blocks more carefully before he laid the monument which imber edax, +or aquila impotens, or fuga temporum might assail in vain. Even old +Ovid, when he raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had placed +some columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two which deserved the +immortality that he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself. But +let not all be looking forward to a future, and fancying that, “incerti +spatium dum finiat aevi,” our books are to be immortal. Alas! the way to +immortality is not so easy, nor will our “Sea Captain” be permitted such +an unconscionable cruise. If all the immortalities were really to have +their wish, what a work would our descendants have to study them all! + +Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved this +deathless consummation. There will come a day (may it be long distant!) +when the very best of his novels will be forgotten; and it is reasonable +to suppose that his dramas will pass out of existence, some time or +other, in the lapse of the secula seculorum. In the meantime, my dear +Plush, if you ask me what the great obstacle is towards the dramatic +fame and merit of our friend, I would say that it does not lie so much +in hostile critics or feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, +and a peevish vanity which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. +The question of original capacity I will not moot; one may think very +highly of the honorable baronet's talent, without rating it quite so +high as he seems disposed to do. + +And to conclude: as he has chosen to combat the critics in person, the +critics are surely justified in being allowed to address him directly. + + With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, + I have the honor to be, dear Sir, + Your most faithful and obliged + humble servant, + JOHN THOMAS SMITH. + + +And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I think I can't do better than +clothes mine lickwise; for though I should never be tired of talking, +praps the public may of hearing, and therefore it's best to shut up +shopp. + +What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take unkind. A +play, you see, is public property for every one to say his say on; and +I think, if you read your prefez over agin, you'll see that it ax as a +direct incouridgment to us critix to come forrard and notice you. But +don't fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiated by hostillaty; fust +write a good play, and you'll see we'll prays it fast enuff. Waiting +which, Agray, Munseer le Chevaleer, l'ashurance de ma hot cumsideratun. + +Voter distangy, + +Y. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MR. 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Yellowplush, by William Makepeace Thackeray + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush + The Yellowplush Papers + +Author: William Makepeace Thackeray + +Release Date: January 10, 2009 [EBook #2796] +Last Updated: March 5, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MR. YELLOWPLUSH *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By William Makepeace Thackeray + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH</b> + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> FORING PARTS. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> <b>MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and am, in + consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me Charles James + Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to several noble families, + and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, and + drove the Lord Mayor of London. + </p> + <p> + Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the name of a + part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through life, in which I was, + as it were, a footman by buth. + </p> + <p> + Praps he was my father—though on this subjict I can't speak + suttinly, for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be illygitmit, I + may have been changed at nuss; but I've always had genlmnly tastes through + life, and have no doubt that I come of a genlmnly origum. + </p> + <p> + The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creatur was + very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in her. Why, + I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led a strange life; + sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and sometimes in rags and + dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes kix; sometimes gin, and + sometimes shampang; law bless us! how she used to swear at me, and cuddle + me; there we were, quarrelling and making up, sober and tipsy, starving + and guttling by turns, just as ma got money or spent it. But let me draw a + vail over the seen, and speak of her no more—its 'sfishant for the + public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the + New Cut. + </p> + <p> + My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her! and I was left alone in + this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy me a penny roal + for my brexfast. But there was some amongst our naybors (and let me tell + you there's more kindness among them poor disrepettable creaturs, than in + half a dozen lords or barrynets) who took pity upon poor Sal's orfin (for + they bust out laffin when I called her Miss Montmorency), and gev me bred + and shelter. I'm afraid, in spite of their kindness, that my MORRILS + wouldn't have improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But a benny-violent + genlmn saw me, and put me to school. The academy which I went to was + called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less—the young + genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsisnames, a tin plate on + the left arm, and a cap about the size of a muffing. I stayed there sicks + years; from sicks, that is to say, till my twelth year, during three years + of witch I distinguished myself not a little in the musicle way, for I + bloo the bellus of the church horgin, and very fine tunes we played too. + </p> + <p> + Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what trix we used to + play the applewoman! and how we put snuff in the old clark's Prayer-book—my + eye!); but one day, a genlmn entered the school-room—it was on the + very day when I went to subtraxion—and asked the master for a young + lad for a servant. They pitched upon me glad enough; and nex day found me + sleeping in the sculry, close under the sink, at Mr. Bago's country-house + at Pentonwille. + </p> + <p> + Bago kep a shop in Smithfield market, and drov a taring good trade in the + hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he cleared no less than + fifty pounds every year by letting his front room at hanging time. His + winders looked right opsit Newgit, and many and many dozen chaps has he + seen hanging there. Laws was laws in the year ten, and they screwed chaps' + nex for nex to nothink. But my bisniss was at his country-house, where I + made my first ontray into fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, and + stable-boy then, and an't ashamed to own it; for my merrits have raised me + to what I am—two livries, forty pound a year, malt-licker, washin, + silk-stocking, and wax candles—not countin wails, which is somethink + pretty considerable at OUR house, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got me a very + different situation. A handsome young genlmn, who kep a tilbry and a ridin + horse at livry, wanted a tiger. I bid at once for the place; and, being a + neat tidy-looking lad, he took me. Bago gave me a character, and he my + first livry; proud enough I was of it, as you may fancy. + </p> + <p> + My new master had some business in the city, for he went in every morning + at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, and had it waiting for + him at six; when, if it was summer, he spanked round into the Park, and + drove one of the neatest turnouts there. Wery proud I was in a gold-laced + hat, a drab coat and a red weskit, to sit by his side, when he drove. I + already began to ogle the gals in the carridges, and to feel that longing + for fashionabl life which I've had ever since. When he was at the oppera, + or the play, down I went to skittles, or to White Condick Gardens; and Mr. + Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, I warrant: to be sure there is + very few man-servants at Pentonwille, the poppylation being mostly gals of + all work; and so, though only fourteen, I was as much a man down there, as + if I had been as old as Jerusalem. + </p> + <p> + But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was such a gay chap, + should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-floor in John Street—a + parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way, and only came in with his boots + and brexfast of a morning. + </p> + <p> + The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. They were a poor but + proliffic couple, who had rented the place for many years; and they and + their family were squeezed in it pretty tight, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been a sub-deputy + assistant vice-commissary, or some such think; and, as I heerd afterwards, + had been obliged to leave on account of his NERVOUSNESS. He was such a + coward, the fact is, that he was considered dangerous to the harmy, and + sent home. + </p> + <p> + He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss Slamcoe. She was a + Bristol gal; and her father being a bankrup in the tallow-chandlering way, + left, in course, a pretty little sum of money. A thousand pound was + settled on her; and she was as high and mighty as if it had been a + millium. + </p> + <p> + Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly daughters by + Miss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther a narrow income for + one of her appytite and pretensions. In an unlucky hour for Shum she met + him. He was a widower with a little daughter of three years old, a little + house at Pentonwille, and a little income about as big as her own. I + believe she bullyd the poor creature into marridge; and it was agreed that + he should let his ground-floor at John Street, and so add somethink to + their means. + </p> + <p> + They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I can tell you. + She was always talking and blustering about her famly, the celebrity of + the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the Slamcoes. They had a six-roomed + house (not counting kitching and sculry), and now twelve daughters in all; + whizz.—4 Miss Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, Miss Dosy, Miss Biddy, and + Miss Winny; 1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum's daughter, and seven others, + who shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum was a fat, red-haired woman, at least a + foot taller than S.; who was but a yard and a half high, pale-faced, + red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose and shut-frill all brown + with snuff. + </p> + <p> + Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly was + all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged to be done + by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each, and four small + goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of linning or other. The hall + was a regular puddle: wet dabs of dishclouts flapped in your face; soapy + smoking bits of flanning went nigh to choke you; and while you were + looking up to prevent hanging yourself with the ropes which were strung + across and about, slap came the hedge of a pail against your shins, till + one was like to be drove mad with hagony. The great slattnly doddling + girls was always on the stairs, poking about with nasty flower-pots, + a-cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seats with greasy + curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An infernal pianna was jingling from + morning till night—two eldest Miss Buckmasters, “Battle of Prag”—six + youngest Miss Shums, “In my Cottage,” till I knew every note in the + “Battle of Prag,” and cussed the day when “In my Cottage” was rote. The + younger girls, too, were always bouncing and thumping about the house, + with torn pinnyfores, and dogs-eard grammars, and large pieces of bread + and treacle. I never see such a house. + </p> + <p> + As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink but lay + on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold, scream, and go into + hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old newspaper from weeks' end to + weeks' end, when he was not engaged in teaching the children, or goin for + the beer, or cleanin the shoes: for they kep no servant. This house in + John Street was in short a regular Pandymony. + </p> + <p> + What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a place? + The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum. + </p> + <p> + And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other daughters + were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty little pink, + modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue eyes, and a neck as + white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal old black gownd, which had + grown too short for her, and too tight; but it only served to show her + pretty angles and feet, and bewchus figger. Master, though he had looked + rather low for the gal of his art, had certainly looked in the right + place. Never was one more pretty or more hamiable. I gav her always the + buttered toast left from our brexfust, and a cup of tea or chocklate, as + Altamont might fancy: and the poor thing was glad enough of it, I can + vouch; for they had precious short commons up stairs, and she the least of + all. + </p> + <p> + For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the poor + thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at her. It was, + Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the public-house for the + beer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean stockens out walking, or your new + bonnet to church. Only her poor father was kind to her; and he, poor old + muff! his kindness was of no use. Mary bore all the scolding like a + hangel, as she was: no, not if she had a pair of wings and a goold + trumpet, could she have been a greater hangel. + </p> + <p> + I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when Master was in + the city; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I happened to be listening + on the stairs. The old scolding was a-going on, and the old tune of that + hojus “Battle of Prag.” Old Shum made some remark; and Miss Buckmaster + cried out, “Law, pa! what a fool you are!” All the gals began laffin, and + so did Mrs. Shum; all, that is, excep Mary, who turned as red as flams, + and going up to Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two such wax on her great + red ears as made them tingle again. + </p> + <p> + Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger. Her great arms + vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cuffed and thumped poor Mary for + taking her pa's part. Mary Shum, who was always a-crying before, didn't + shed a tear now. “I will do it again,” she said, “if Betsy insults my + father.” New thumps, new shreex; and the old horridan went on beatin the + poor girl till she was quite exosted, and fell down on the sophy, puffin + like a poppus. + </p> + <p> + “For shame, Mary,” began old Shum; “for shame, you naughty gal, you! for + hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating your kind sister.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it was because she called you a—” + </p> + <p> + “If she did, you pert miss,” said Shum, looking mighty dignitified, “I + could correct her, and not you.” + </p> + <p> + “You correct me, indeed!” said Miss Betsy, turning up her nose, if + possible, higher than before; “I should like to see you erect me! + Imperence!” and they all began laffin again. + </p> + <p> + By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her exsize, and she + began to pour in HER wolly. Fust she called Mary names, then Shum. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, why,” screeched she, “why did I ever leave a genteel famly, where I + ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a creatur like this? He is unfit + to be called a man, he is unworthy to marry a gentlewoman; and as for that + hussy, I disown her. Thank heaven she an't a Slamcoe; she is only fit to + be a Shum!” + </p> + <p> + “That's true, mamma,” said all the gals; for their mother had taught them + this pretty piece of manners, and they despised their father heartily: + indeed, I have always remarked that, in famlies where the wife is + internally talking about the merits of her branch, the husband is + invariably a spooney. + </p> + <p> + Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the sofy, at her old + trix—more screeching—more convulshuns: and she wouldn't stop, + this time, till Shum had got her half a pint of her old remedy, from the + “Blue Lion” over the way. She grew more easy as she finished the gin; but + Mary was sent out of the room, and told not to come back agin all day. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Mary,” says I,—for my heart yurned to the poor gal, as she + came sobbing and miserable down stairs: “Miss Mary,” says I, “if I might + make so bold, here's master's room empty, and I know where the cold bif + and pickles is.” “Oh, Charles!” said she, nodding her head sadly, “I'm too + retched to have any happytite.” And she flung herself on a chair, and + began to cry fit to bust. + </p> + <p> + At this moment who should come in but my master. I had taken hold of Miss + Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I should have kist it, when, as I + said, Haltamont made his appearance. “What's this?” cries he, lookin at me + as black as thunder, or as Mr. Phillips as Hickit, in the new tragedy of + MacBuff. + </p> + <p> + “It's only Miss Mary, sir,” answered I. + </p> + <p> + “Get out, sir,” says he, as fierce as posbil; and I felt somethink (I + think it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and found myself, nex + minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets and things. + </p> + <p> + The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, as I was cussin + and crying out. “It's only Charles, ma,” screamed out Miss Betsy. + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mary?” says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy. + </p> + <p> + “She's in Master's room, miss,” said I. + </p> + <p> + “She's in the lodger's room, ma,” cries Miss Shum, heckoing me. + </p> + <p> + “Very good; tell her to stay there till he comes back.” And then Miss Shum + went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing of Haltamont's return. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after Mary Shum; + indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake that he took and kep + his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the sake of love, which is above + being mersnary, fourteen shillings a wick was a LITTLE too strong for two + such rat-holes as he lived in. I do blieve the famly had nothing else but + their lodger to live on: they brekfisted off his tea-leaves, they cut away + pounds and pounds of meat from his jints (he always dined at home), and + his baker's bill was at least enough for six. But that wasn't my business. + I saw him grin, sometimes, when I laid down the cold bif of a morning, to + see how little was left of yesterday's sirline; but he never said a + syllabub: for true love don't mind a pound of meat or so hextra. + </p> + <p> + At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals; Miss Betsy, in + partickler, grew mighty fond of him: they sat, for whole evenings, playing + cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her tea and muffing; but as it + was improper for her to come alone, she brought one of her sisters, and + this was genrally Mary,—for he made a pint of asking her, too,—and + one day, when one of the others came instead, he told her, very quitely, + that he hadn't invited her; and Miss Buckmaster was too fond of muffings + to try this game on again: besides, she was jealous of her three grown + sisters, and considered Mary as only a child. Law bless us! how she used + to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play “Meet Me by Moonlike,” on + an old gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head: but he wouldn't have + it, bein better ockypied elsewhere. + </p> + <p> + One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for “Ashley's,” + and proposed to take the two young ladies—Miss Betsy and Miss Mary, + in course. I recklect he called me aside that afternoon, assuming a + solamon and misterus hare, “Charles,” said he, “ARE YOU UP TO SNUFF?” + </p> + <p> + “Why sir,” said I, “I'm genrally considered tolerably downy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says he, “I'll give you half a suffering if you can manage this + bisness for me; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. When the theatre is + over, you must be waitin with two umbrellows; give me one, and hold the + other over Miss Buckmaster: and, hark ye, sir, TURN TO THE RIGHT when you + leave the theater, and say the coach is ordered to stand a little way up + the street, in order to get rid of the crowd.” + </p> + <p> + We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit Cartliche's + hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble! talk of Magreedy! Ashley's + for my money, with Cartlitch in the principal part. But this is nothink to + the porpus. When the play was over, I was at the door with the umbrellos. + It was raining cats and dogs, sure enough. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his arm, and Miss Betsy + following behind, rayther sulky. “This way, sir,” cries I, pushin forward; + and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy, fit to smother her. Mr. A. and + Miss Mary skipped on and was out of sight when Miss Betsy's cloak was + settled, you may be sure. + </p> + <p> + “They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the street, away + from the crowd of carridges.” And off we turned TO THE RIGHT, and no + mistake. + </p> + <p> + After marchin a little through the plash and mud, “Has anybody seen Coxy's + fly?” cries I, with the most innocent haxent in the world. + </p> + <p> + “Cox's fly!” hollows out one chap. “Is it the vaggin you want?” says + another. “I see the blackin wan pass,” giggles out another gentlmn; and + there was such a hinterchange of compliments as you never heerd. I pass + them over though, because some of 'em were not wery genteel. + </p> + <p> + “Law, miss,” said I, “what shall I do? My master will never forgive me; + and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a coach.” Miss Betsy was just going + to call one when I said that; but the coachman wouldn't have it at that + price, he said, and I knew very well that SHE hadn't four or five + shillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in the midst of that tarin rain, at + midnight, we had to walk four miles, from Westminster Bridge to + Pentonwille; and what was wuss, I DIDN'T HAPPEN TO KNOW THE WAY. A very + nice walk it was, and no mistake. + </p> + <p> + At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My master was at the + garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms, while master begun + cussin and swearing at me for disobeying his orders, and TURNING TO THE + RIGHT INSTEAD OF TO THE LEFT! Law bless me! his hacting of hanger was very + near as natral and as terrybl as Mr. Cartlich's in the play. + </p> + <p> + They had waited half an hour, he said, in the fly, in the little street at + the left of the theater; they had drove up and down in the greatest fright + possible; and at last came home, thinking it was in vain to wait any more. + They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and roast oysters for supper, and this + consoled her a little. + </p> + <p> + I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for HER share in this + adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and I do believe is + hignorant to this day of our little strattygim. Besides, all's fair in + love; and, as my master could never get to see her alone, on account of + her infernal eleven sisters and ma, he took this opportunity of expressin + his attachment to her. + </p> + <p> + If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid it him back + again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were as tender as two + tuttle-doves—which fully accounts for the axdent what happened to + me, in being kicked out of the room: and in course I bore no mallis. + </p> + <p> + I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master was in love + with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down to his parlor as + much as ever. + </p> + <p> + Now comes the sing'lar part of my history. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <p> + But who was this genlmn with a fine name—Mr. Frederic Altamont? or + what was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I said to him + on a wery rainy day, “Sir, shall I bring the gig down to your office?” and + he gave me one of his black looks and one of his loudest hoaths, and told + me to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Another day,—it + was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,—Miss M., + who adoared him, as I have said already, kep on asking him what was his + buth, parentidg, and ediccation. “Dear Frederic,” says she, “why this + mistry about yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little Mary”—they + were as tender as this, I can tell you—“your buth and your + professin?” + </p> + <p> + I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he said, + in a voice hagitated by emotion, “Mary,” said he, “if you love me, ask me + this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know that I am a honest man, + and that a secret, what it would be misery for you to larn, must hang over + all my actions—that is from ten o'clock till six.” + </p> + <p> + They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus way, and + I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses in Pentonwille + have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear rayther better outside + the room than in. But, though he kep up his secret, he swore to her his + affektion this day pint blank. Nothing should prevent him, he said, from + leading her to the halter, from makin her his adoarable wife. After this + was a slight silence. “Dearest Frederic,” mummered out miss, speakin as if + she was chokin, “I am yours—yours for ever.” And then silence agen, + and one or two smax, as if there was kissin going on. Here I thought it + best to give a rattle at the door-lock; for, as I live, there was old Mrs. + Shum a-walkin down the stairs! + </p> + <p> + It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed-rum + window, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half an hour + afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who was a dragon of + vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and frowning, as fat and as + fierce as a old sow at feedin time. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the lodger, fellow?” says she to me. + </p> + <p> + I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street—“If you mean, ma'am, + my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept in, and is + puttin on clean shoes in his bedroom.” + </p> + <p> + She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening the + parlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a-drooping down + her head like a pale lily. + </p> + <p> + “Did you come into my famly,” says she, “to corrupt my daughters, and to + destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come here, sir, as a + seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!”—and she folded her + arms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums in the Tragic Mews. + </p> + <p> + “I came here, Mrs. Shum,” said he, “because I loved your daughter, or I + never would have condescended to live in such a beggarly hole. I have + treated her in every respect like a genlmn, and she is as innocent now, + ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry me, I am ready; if + she'll leave you, she shall have a home where she shall be neither bullyd + nor starved: no hangry frumps of sisters, no cross mother-in-law, only an + affeckshnat husband, and all the pure pleasures of Hyming.” + </p> + <p> + Mary flung herself into his arms—“Dear, dear Frederic,” says she, + “I'll never leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss,” says Mrs. Shum, “you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster, thank + God. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and he may insult + me—brave me—trample on my feelinx in my own house—and + there's no-o-o-obody by to defend me.” + </p> + <p> + I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and she + began screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the eleven gals + and old Shum. There was a pretty row. “Look here, sir,” says she, “at the + conduck of your precious trull of a daughter—alone with this man, + kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides.” + </p> + <p> + “What, he?” cries Miss Betsy—“he in love with Mary. Oh, the wretch, + the monster, the deceiver!”—and she falls down too, screeching away + as loud as her mamma; for the silly creature fancied still that Altamont + had a fondness for her. + </p> + <p> + “SILENCE THESE WOMEN!” shouts out Altamont, thundering loud. “I love your + daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny, and can afford to + keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll come of her own will. Is + that enough?—may I have her?” + </p> + <p> + “We'll talk of this matter, sir,” says Mr. Shum, looking as high and + mighty as an alderman. “Gals, go up stairs with your dear mamma.”—And + they all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage ended. + </p> + <p> + You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a husband for his + daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better than all the pack + which had been brought him or born to him by Mrs. Buckmaster. But, strange + to say, when he came to talk of settlements and so forth, not a word would + my master answer. He said he made four hundred a year reglar—he + wouldn't tell how—but Mary, if she married him, must share all that + he had, and ask no questions; only this he would say, as he'd said before, + that he was a honest man. + </p> + <p> + They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house at + Islington; but still my master went away to business, and nobody knew + where. Who could he be? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <p> + If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a chance of + happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There house at Cannon + Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could be. Carpited from top to + to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; and three deomestix: of which I, + in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy as in Mr. A.'s bachelor days; + but, what then? The three W's is my maxum: plenty of work, plenty of + wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep his gig no longer, but went to + the city in an omlibuster. + </p> + <p> + One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an effeckshnut + husband, might have been as happy as her blessid majisty. Nothing of the + sort. For the fust six months it was all very well; but then she grew + gloomier and gloomier, though A. did everythink in life to please her. + </p> + <p> + Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row, where he + lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little man was a thought + too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's the night that I've had + to support him home. And you may be sure that Miss Betsy did not now + desert her sister: she was at our place mornink, noon, and night; not much + to my mayster's liking, though he was too good-natured to wex his wife in + trifles. + </p> + <p> + But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and hated + Altamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things into the head + of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety and cheerfulness, grew + to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid, just as if she had been the + most misrable woman in the world. + </p> + <p> + In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs. Shum, + who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and made her retchider and + retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamont came home: she used + to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say, “My child, my child, your + father is false to me;” or, “your father deceives me;” or “what will you + do when your pore mother is no more?” or such like sentimental stuff. + </p> + <p> + It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found out. The + fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the house, its a servant's + DUTY to listen; and listen I did, one day when Mrs. was cryin as usual, + and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin her, as she called it: though, heaven + knows, she only grew wuss and wuss for the consolation. + </p> + <p> + Well, I listened; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis cryin as + yousual. + </p> + <p> + “Pore dear innocint,” says Mrs. S., heavin a great sigh, “you're the child + of a unknown father and a misrable mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma,” says missis; “he is all kindness to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “All kindness, indeed! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a fine gownd, + and a ride in a fly whenever you please; but WHERE DOES ALL HIS MONEY COME + FROM? Who is he—what is he? Who knows that he mayn't be a murderer, + or a housebreaker, or a utterer of forged notes? How can he make his money + honestly, when he won't say where he gets it? Why does he leave you eight + hours every blessid day, and won't say where he goes to? Oh, Mary, Mary, + you are the most injured of women!” + </p> + <p> + And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin; and Miss Betsy began yowling like a + cat in a gitter; and pore missis cried, too—tears is so remarkable + infeckshus. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, mamma,” wimpered out she, “Frederic is a shop-boy, and don't + like me to know that he is not a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “A shopboy,” says Betsy, “he a shopboy! O no, no, no! more likely a + wretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing all day, and feedin you + with the fruits of his ill-gotten games!” + </p> + <p> + More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby joined; and + made a very pretty consort, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + “He can't be a robber,” cries missis; “he's too good, too kind, for that: + besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is always home at + eight.” + </p> + <p> + “But he can be a forger,” says Betsy, “a wicked, wicked FORGER. Why does + he go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why does he go to the + city? to be near banks and places, and so do it more at his convenience.” + </p> + <p> + “But he brings home a sum of money every day—about thirty shillings—sometimes + fifty: and then he smiles, and says it's a good day's work. This is not + like a forger,” said pore Mrs. A. + </p> + <p> + “I have it—I have it!” screams out Mrs. S. “The villain—the + sneaking, double-faced Jonas! he's married to somebody else he is, and + that's why he leaves you, the base biggymist!” + </p> + <p> + At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away. A + dreadful business it was—hystarrix; then hystarrix, in course, from + Mrs. Shum; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up and down stairs + with hot water! If ever there is a noosance in the world, it's a house + where faintain is always goin on. I wouldn't live in one,—no, not to + be groom of the chambers, and git two hundred a year. + </p> + <p> + It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place; and such a + row it was, that nobody but me heard master's knock. He came in, and heard + the hooping, and screeching, and roaring. He seemed very much frightened + at first, and said, “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Shum's here,” says I, “and Mrs. in astarrix.” + </p> + <p> + Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word which I don't + like to name,—let it suffice that it begins with a D and ends with a + NATION; and he tore up stairs like mad. + </p> + <p> + He bust open the bedroom door; missis lay quite pale and stony on the + sofy; the babby was screechin from the craddle; Miss Betsy was sprawlin + over missis; and Mrs. Shum half on the bed and half on the ground: all + howlin and squeelin, like so many dogs at the moond. + </p> + <p> + When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a sudding. There + had been one or two tiffs before between them, and they feared him as if + he had been a hogre. + </p> + <p> + “What's this infernal screeching and crying about?” says he. “Oh, Mr. + Altamont,” cries the old woman, “you know too well; it's about you that + this darling child is misrabble!” + </p> + <p> + “And why about me, pray, madam?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sir, dare you ask why? Because you deceive her, sir; because you are + a false, cowardly traitor, sir; because YOU HAVE A WIFE ELSEWHERE, SIR!” + And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to roar again as loud as ever. + </p> + <p> + Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the door wide open; nex he + seized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he world her out of the + room; then up he goes to Mrs. S. “Get up,” says he, thundering loud, “you + lazy, trolloping, mischsef-making, lying old fool! Get up, and get out of + this house. You have been the cuss and bain of my happyniss since you + entered it. With your d——d lies, and novvle rending, and + histerrix, you have perwerted Mary, and made her almost as mad as + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “My child! my child!” shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings round missis. But + Altamont ran between them, and griping the old lady by her arm, dragged + her to the door. “Follow your daughter, ma'm,” says he, and down she went. + “CHAWLS, SEE THOSE LADIES TO THE DOOR,” he hollows out, “and never let + them pass it again.” We walked down together, and off they went: and + master locked and double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin, of + course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You may be sure + that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result of their + confidence. + </p> + <p> + As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. “Mary,” says + master, “you're no longer the merry greatful gal I knew and loved at + Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you—there's no smilin + welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! Your mother and + sister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's why I've drove them + from this house, which they shall not re-enter in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I. Why do you have any mistry + from me? Where do you spend your days? Why did you leave me, even on the + day of your marridge, for eight hours, and continue to do so every day?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” says he, “I makes my livelihood by it. I leave you, and don't + tell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the happier to know.” + </p> + <p> + It was in this way the convysation ren on—more tears and questions + on my missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it ended + for the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel. Wery + difrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and kewing which + had proceeded their nupshuls. + </p> + <p> + Master went out, slamming the door in a fury; as well he might. Says he, + “If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly one;” and so he + went off to the hed tavern, and came home that evening beesly + intawsicated. When high words begin in a family drink generally follows on + the genlman's side; and then, fearwell to all conjubial happyniss! These + two pipple, so fond and loving, were now sirly, silent, and full of il + wil. Master went out earlier, and came home later; missis cried more, and + looked even paler than before. + </p> + <p> + Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in the mopes, + missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and curosity; until a singlar + axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr. Altamont. + </p> + <p> + It was the tenth of January; I recklect the day, for old Shum gev me half + a crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by the way): he was + dining along with master, and they were making merry together. + </p> + <p> + Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and little Shum + his twelfth or so—master said, “I see you twice in the City to-day, + Mr. Shum.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's curous!” says Shum. “I WAS in the City. To-day's the day + when the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid; and me and Mrs. S. went for + our half-year's inkem. But we only got out of the coach, crossed the + street to the Bank, took our money, and got in agen. How could you see me + twice?” + </p> + <p> + Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. “O!” says he, “I was + passing—passing as you went in and out.” And he instantly turned the + conversation, and began talking about pollytix, or the weather, or some + such stuff. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my dear,” said my missis, “but how could you see papa TWICE?” Master + didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever. Still she would continy + on. “Where was you, my dear, when you saw pa? What were you doing, my + love, to see pa twice?” and so forth. Master looked angrier and angrier, + and his wife only pressed him wuss and wuss. + </p> + <p> + This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler; and I knew pritty well + that he could git very little further; for, as reglar as the thirteenth + came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, and its consquinzes. I was + obliged to leed him home to John Street, where I left him in the hangry + arms of Mrs. Shum. + </p> + <p> + “How the d—,” sayd he all the way, “how the d-dd—the deddy—deddy—devil—could + he have seen me TWICE?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <p> + It was a sad slip on Altamont's part, for no sooner did he go out the next + morning than missis went out too. She tor down the street, and never + stopped till she came to her pa's house at Pentonwill. She was clositid + for an hour with her ma, and when she left her she drove straight to the + City. She walked before the Bank, and behind the Bank, and round the Bank: + she came home disperryted, having learned nothink. + </p> + <p> + And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's house for the next + ten days there was nothing but expyditions into the city. Mrs. S., tho her + dropsicle legs had never carred her half so fur before, was eternally on + the key veve, as the French say. If she didn't go, Miss Betsy did, or + misses did: they seemed to have an attrackshun to the Bank, and went there + as natral as an omlibus. + </p> + <p> + At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house—(she wasn't + admitted when master was there, but came still in his absints)—and + she wore a hair of tryumph, as she entered. “Mary,” says she, “where is + the money your husbind brought to you yesterday?” My master used always to + give it to missis when he returned. + </p> + <p> + “The money, ma!” says Mary. “Why here!” And pulling out her puss, she + showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an odd-looking little coin. + </p> + <p> + “THAT'S IT! that's it!” cried Mrs. S. “A Queene Anne's sixpence, isn't it, + dear—dated seventeen hundred and three?” + </p> + <p> + It was so sure enough: a Queen Ans sixpence of that very date. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my love,” says she, “I have found him! Come with me to-morrow, and + you shall KNOW ALL!” + </p> + <p> + And now comes the end of my story. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked behind, doing + the genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. We walked down the New + Road—we walked down the City Road—we walked to the Bank. We + were crossing from that heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all + of a sudden missis shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away. + </p> + <p> + I rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms: spiling thereby a new weskit + and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard. I say, very nearly + knocking down the old sweeper who was hobbling away as fast as posibil. We + took her to Birch's; we provided her with a hackney-coach and every + lucksury, and carried her home to Islington. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + That night master never came home. Nor the nex night, nor the nex. On the + fourth day an octioneer arrived; he took an infantry of the furnitur, and + placed a bill in the window. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He was haggard and + pale; not so haggard, however, not so pale as his miserable wife. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that I coppied + MY look to Miss ——. He looked at her very tendrilly and held + out his arms. She gev a suffycating shreek, and rusht into his umbraces. + </p> + <p> + “Mary,” says he, “you know all now. I have sold my place; I have got three + thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. I've sold my house and + furnitur, and that brings me another. We'll go abroad and love each other, + has formly.” + </p> + <p> + And now you ask me, Who he was? I shudder to relate.—Mr. Haltamont + SWEP THE CROSSING FROM THE BANK TO CORNHILL!! + </p> + <p> + Of cors, I left his servis. I met him, few years after, at Badden-Badden, + where he and Mrs. A. were much respectid, and pass for pipple of propaty. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. + </h2> + <p> + DIMOND CUT DIMOND. + </p> + <p> + The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more ellygant and + youfonious than that of my fust. I now found myself boddy servant to the + Honrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son of the Earl of + Crabs. + </p> + <p> + Halgernon was a barrystir—that is, he lived in Pump Cort, Temple: a + wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. Suffiz to say, it's on + the confines of the citty, and the choasen aboad of the lawyers of this + metrappolish. + </p> + <p> + When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean that he went + sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply that he kep chambers, + lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a commitionarship, or a + revisinship, or any other place that the Wig guvvyment could give him. His + father was a Wig pier (as the landriss told me), and had been a Toary + pier. The fack is, his lordship was so poar, that he would be anythink or + nothink, to get provisions for his sons and an inkum for himself. + </p> + <p> + I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year; and it would have + been a very comforable maintenants, only he knever paid him. + </p> + <p> + Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake; he got his + allowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble and + fashnabble manner. He kep a kab—-he went to Holmax—and + Crockfud's—he moved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the law + boox very little, I can tell you. Those fashnabble gents have ways of + getten money, witch comman pipple doan't understand. + </p> + <p> + Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he had the + welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as common as haypince—clarrit + and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin; and verry glad I was, to + be sure, to be a valley to a zion of the nobillaty. + </p> + <p> + Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of paper. The + names of his family was wrote on it; it was wrote in the shape of a tree, + a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and the names were on little + plates among the bows. The pictur said that the Deuceaces kem into England + in the year 1066, along with William Conqueruns. My master called it his + podygree. I do bleev it was because he had this pictur, and because he was + the HONRABBLE Deuceace, that he mannitched to live as he did. If he had + been a common man, you'd have said he was no better than a swinler. It's + only rank and buth that can warrant such singularities as my master + show'd. For it's no use disgysing it—the Honrabble Halgernon was a + GAMBLER. For a man of wulgar family, it's the wust trade that can be—for + a man of common feelinx of honesty, this profession is quite imposbil; but + for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it's the esiest and most prophetable line + he can take. + </p> + <p> + It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should live in the + Temple; but it must be recklected, that it's not only lawyers who live in + what's called the Ins of Cort. Many batchylers, who have nothink to do + with lor, have here their loginx; and many sham barrysters, who never put + on a wig and gownd twise in their lives, kip apartments in the Temple, + instead of Bon Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble places. + </p> + <p> + Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there was 8 sets + of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar, Screwson, + Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys; fust floar, Mr. Sergeant Flabber—opsite, + Mr. Counslor Bruffy; and secknd pair, Mr. Haggerstony, an Irish counslor, + praktising at the Old Baly, and lickwise what they call reporter to the + Morning Post nyouspapper. Opsite him was wrote + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. RICHARD BLEWITT; +</pre> + <p> + and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. + </p> + <p> + This young fellow was a new comer into the Temple, and unlucky it was for + him too—he'd better have never been born; for it's my firm apinion + that the Temple ruined him—that is, with the help of my master and + Mr. Dick Blewitt: as you shall hear. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man, had just left + the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his own—six + thousand pound, or so—in the stox. He was jest of age, an orfin who + had lost his father and mother; and having distinkwished hisself at + Collitch, where he gained seffral prices, was come to town to push his + fortn, and study the barryster's bisness. + </p> + <p> + Not bein of a very high fammly hisself—indeed, I've heard say his + father was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort—Dawkins was + glad to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to rich Squire + Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him. + </p> + <p> + Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr. Blewitt's + gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters,—mine being + too much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr. Blewitt's sort. + Blewitt was what they call a bettin man; he went reglar to Tattlesall's, + kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and a + cut-away coat. In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, who + was a slim, ellygant man as ever I see—he had very white hands, + rayther a sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly + trimmed and as black as Warren's jet—he spoke very low and soft—he + seemed to be watchin the person with whom he was in convysation, and + always flatterd everybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. + He was always swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty + as posbill. He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one would + trust with life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at least; who, though a + quiet young man, fond of his boox, novvles, Byron's poems, foot-playing, + and such like scientafic amusemints, grew hand in glove with honest Dick + Blewitt, and soon after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw! + he thought he was makin good connexions and real frends—he had + fallen in with a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that ever lived. + </p> + <p> + Before Mr. Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barely + condysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt; it was only about a month after that + suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very friendly with + him. The reason was pretty clear,—Deuceace WANTED HIM. Dawkins had + not been an hour in master's company before he knew that he had a pidgin + to pluck. + </p> + <p> + Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended to keep this + one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the Honrabble Halgernon + manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's clause, who thought he + had it safe. In fact, he'd brought Dawkins to these chambers for that very + porpos, thinking to have him under his eye, and strip him at leisure. + </p> + <p> + My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game. Gamblers know + gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation; and though Mr. + Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr. Deuceace, they knew each + other's dealins and caracters puffickly well. + </p> + <p> + “Charles you scoundrel,” says Deuceace to me one day (he always spoak in + that kind way), “who is this person that has taken the opsit chambers, and + plays the flute so industrusly?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a great friend + of Mr. Blewittses, sir,” says I; “they seem to live in each other's + rooms.” + </p> + <p> + Master said nothink, but he GRIN'D—my eye, how he did grin. Not the + fowl find himself could snear more satannickly. + </p> + <p> + I knew what he meant: + </p> + <p> + Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. + </p> + <p> + Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. + </p> + <p> + Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and when the + simpleton is RICH, one knows pretty well what will come of it. + </p> + <p> + I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as my + master; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless us! there + was four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men as you ever see: + Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. Blewitt's, and me—and we + knew what our masters was about as well as thay did theirselfs. + Frinstance, I can say this for MYSELF, there wasn't a paper in Deuceace's + desk or drawer, not a bill, a note, or mimerandum, which I hadn't read as + well as he: with Blewitt's it was the same—me and his young man used + to read 'em all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that we didn't get a glass + out of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have some lumps of it. We had + keys to all the cubbards—we pipped into all the letters that kem and + went—-we pored over all the bill-files—we'd the best pickens + out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemit balls out of + the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals and candles, we left + them to the landrisses. You may call this robry—nonsince—it's + only our rights—a suvvant's purquizzits is as sacred as the laws of + Hengland. + </p> + <p> + Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, esquire, was + sityouated as follows: He'd an incum of three hundred a year from his + father. Out of this he had to pay one hundred and ninety for money + borrowed by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, seventy more for his + hoss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and about three hundred and fifty + for a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park; besides this, his + pockit-money, say a hunderd, his eatin, drinkin, and wine-marchant's bill, + about two hunderd moar. So that you see he laid by a pretty handsome sum + at the end of the year. + </p> + <p> + My master was diffrent; and being a more fashnable man than Mr. B., in + course he owed a deal more mony. There was fust: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Account contray, at Crockford's L 3711 0 0 + Bills of xchange and I. O. U.'s (but he + didn't pay these in most cases) 4963 0 0 + 21 tailors' bills, in all 1306 11 9 + 3 hossdealers' do 402 0 0 + 2 coachbuilder 506 0 0 + Bills contracted at Cambridtch 2193 6 8 + Sundries 987 10 0 + —————— + L 14069 8 5 +</pre> + <p> + I give this as a curosity—pipple doan't know how in many cases + fashnabble life is carried on; and to know even what a real gnlmn OWES is + somethink instructif and agreeable. + </p> + <p> + But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the inquiries + concerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned already, he met Mr. Blewitt on + the stairs; and byoutiffle it was to see how this gnlmn, who had before + been almost cut by my master, was now received by him. One of the sweetest + smiles I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's countenance. He held + out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, and said, in the most frenly + tone of vice posbill, “What! Mr. Blewitt? It is an age since we met. What + a shame that such near naybors should see each other so seldom!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing-gown, + smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked surprised, + flattered, and then suspicious. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” says he, “it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By-the-by, what an + evening that was—hay, Mr. Blewitt? What wine! what capital songs! I + recollect your 'May-day in the morning'—cuss me, the best comick + song I ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it only + yesterday. You know the duke, I think?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, “No, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Not know him!” cries master; “why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows YOU; as + every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your good + things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket.” + </p> + <p> + And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust answered + him quite short and angry: but, after a little more flummery, he grew as + pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry, and bleeved all his + lies. At last the door shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt's + chambers together. + </p> + <p> + Of course I can't say what past there; but in an hour master kem up to his + own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo smoke. I never + see any genmln more sick than he was; HE'D BEEN SMOAKIN SEAGARS along with + Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho I'd often heard him xpress his + horrow of backo, and knew very well he would as soon swallow pizon as + smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a reason: if he'd been + smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to some porpus. + </p> + <p> + I didn't hear the convysation betwean 'em; but Mr. Blewitt's man did: it + was,—“Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars! Have you one for a + friend to smoak?” (The old fox, it wasn't only the SEAGARS he was + a-smoakin!) “Walk in,” says Mr. Blewitt; and they began a chaffin + together; master very ankshous about the young gintleman who had come to + live in our chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to that subject,—saying + that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly; how glad he'd be, for + his part, to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and ANY FRIEND OF HIS, and so on. Mr. + Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap laid for him. “I really + don't know this Dawkins,” says he: “he's a chismonger's son, I hear; and + tho I've exchanged visits with him, I doan't intend to continyou the + acquaintance,—not wishin to assoshate with that kind of pipple.” So + they went on, master fishin, and Mr. Blewitt not wishin to take the hook + at no price. + </p> + <p> + “Confound the vulgar thief!” muttard my master, as he was laying on his + sophy, after being so very ill; “I've poisoned myself with his infernal + tobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor! he thinks he'll + ruin this poor Cheese-monger, does he? I'll step in, and WARN him.” + </p> + <p> + I thought I should bust a-laffin, when he talked in this style. I knew + very well what his “warning” meant,—lockin the stable-door but + stealin the hoss fust. + </p> + <p> + Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. Dawkins we + exicuted; and very pritty it was. + </p> + <p> + Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, had some other + parshallities—wiz., he was very fond of good eatin and drinkin. + After doddling over his music and boox all day, this young genlmn used to + sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a tavern, drinkin all sorts of + wine along with his friend Mr. Blewitt. He was a quiet young fellow enough + at fust; but it was Mr. B. who (for his own porpuses, no doubt,) had got + him into this kind of life. Well, I needn't say that he who eats a fine + dinner, and drinks too much overnight, wants a bottle of soda-water, and a + gril, praps, in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinses case; and reglar + almost as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from “Dix Coffy-House” was to be + seen on our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D.'s hot breakfast. + </p> + <p> + No man would have thought there was anythink in such a trifling + cirkumstance; master did, though, and pounced upon it like a cock on a + barlycorn. + </p> + <p> + He sent me out to Mr. Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's called a + Strasbug-pie—in French, a “patty defau graw.” He takes a card, and + nails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws come generally in a round + wooden box, like a drumb); and what do you think he writes on it? why, as + follos:—“For the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace, &c. &c. + &c. With Prince Talleyrand's compliments.” + </p> + <p> + Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed! I laff when I think of it, still, + the old surpint! He WAS a surpint, that Deuceace, and no mistake. + </p> + <p> + Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day punctially as + Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming UP the stairs, Mr. Halgernon Percy + Deuceace was going DOWN. He was as gay as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, + and twizzting round his head his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he went very + fast, and by a most unlucky axdent struck his cane against the waiter's + tray, and away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, soda-water and + all! I can't think how my master should have choas such an exact time; to + be sure, his windo looked upon the court, and he could see every one who + came into our door. + </p> + <p> + As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a rage as, to be + sure, no man ever was in befor; he swoar at the waiter in the most + dreddfle way; he threatened him with his stick, and it was only when he + see that the waiter was rayther a bigger man than hisself that he was in + the least pazzyfied. He returned to his own chambres; and John, the + waiter, went off for more gril to Dixes Coffy-house. + </p> + <p> + “This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles,” says master to me, + after a few minits paws, during witch he had been and wrote a note, put it + into an anvelope, and sealed it with his big seal of arms. “But stay—a + thought strikes me—take this note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pye you + brought yesterday; and hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where you got it + I will break every bone in your skin!” + </p> + <p> + These kind of promises were among the few which I knew him to keep: and as + I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I carried the noat, and of cors said + nothink. Waiting in Mr. Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, I returned to + my master with an anser. I may as well give both of these documence, of + which I happen to have taken coppies: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. + + THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. + + “TEMPLE, Tuesday. + + “Mr. DEUCEACE presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at + the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for + the accident which has just taken place. + + “May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to + remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power if Mr. + Dawkins will do him the favor to partake of the contents of the + accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a + friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps + he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the plat which Mr. + Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. + + “It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to + the original donor of the 'pate', when he learns that it has fallen + into the hands of so celebrated a bon vivant as Mr. Dawkins. + + “T. S. DAWKINS, Esq., &c. &c. &c.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + II. + + FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + + “MR. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS presents his grateful compliments to the + Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. + Deuceace's generous proffer. + + “It would be one of the HAPPIEST MOMENTS of Mr. Smith Dawkins's + life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would EXTEND HIS GENEROSITY still + further, and condescend to partake of the repast which his + MUNIFICENT POLITENESS has furnished. + + “TEMPLE, Tuesday.” + </pre> + <p> + Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters, which I had + wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's copyin clark. Deuceace's flam + about Prince Tallyram was puffickly successful. I saw young Dawkins blush + with delite as he red the note; he toar up for or five sheets before he + composed the answer to it, which was as you red abuff, and roat in a hand + quite trembling with pleasyer. If you could but have seen the look of + triumph in Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he read the noat! I never + see a deamin yet, but I can phansy 1, a holding a writhing soal on his + pitchfrock, and smilin like Deuceace. He dressed himself in his very best + clothes, and in he went, after sending me over to say that he would except + with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. + </p> + <p> + The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun betwixt the two + genlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. He spoke to Mr. Dawkins in the + most respeckful and flatrin manner,—agread in every think he said,—prazed + his taste, his furniter, his coat, his classick nolledge, and his playin + on the floot; you'd have thought, to hear him, that such a polygon of + exlens as Dawkins did not breath,—that such a modist, sinsear, + honrabble genlmn as Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xcept in Pump Cort. + Poor Daw was complitly taken in. My master said he'd introduce him to the + Duke of Doncaster, and heaven knows how many nobs more, till Dawkins was + quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as a fac (and it pretty well + shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he went that very day and ordered + 2 new coats, on porpos to be introjuiced to the lords in. + </p> + <p> + But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and swarink—up + stares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung opn Mr. Dawkins's door, shouting + out, “Daw my old buck, how are you?” when, all of a sudden, he sees Mr. + Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, and + looked as if a stror would knock him down. “My dear Mr. Blewitt,” says my + master, smilin and offring his hand, “how glad I am to see you. Mr. + Dawkins and I were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down.” + </p> + <p> + Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other out; but + law bless you! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my master: all the time he was + fidgetty, silent, and sulky; on the contry, master was charmin. I never + herd such a flo of conversatin, or so many wittacisms as he uttered. At + last, completely beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf; that instant master + followed him; and passin his arm through that of Mr. Dick, led him into + our chambers, and began talkin to him in the most affabl and affeckshnat + manner. + </p> + <p> + But Dick was too angry to listen; at last, when master was telling him + some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt burst out— + </p> + <p> + “A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr. Deuceace, don't you be + running your rigs upon me; I ain't the man to be bamboozl'd by long-winded + stories about dukes and duchesses. You think I don't know you; every man + knows you and your line of country. Yes, you're after young Dawkins there, + and think to pluck him; but you shan't,—no, by —— you + shan't.” (The reader must recklect that the oaths which interspussed Mr. + B.'s convysation I have left out.) Well, after he'd fired a wolley of 'em, + Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as possbill. + </p> + <p> + “Hark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal thieves and + scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector with me, I will cane you; if + you want more, I'll shoot you; if you meddle between me and Dawkins, I + will do both. I know your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. I + know you have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and want all. I + will have half, or you never shall have a penny.” It's quite true that + master knew things; but how was the wonder. + </p> + <p> + I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on the wrong side + of the door; but there was a considdrable paws after thuse complymints had + passed between the two genlmn,—one walkin quickly up and down the + room—tother, angry and stupid, sittin down, and stampin with his + foot. + </p> + <p> + “Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt,” continues master at last. “If you're + quiet, you shall have half this fellow's money: but venture to win a + shilling from him in my absence, or without my consent, and you do it at + your peril.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Mr. Deuceace,” cries Dick, “it's very hard, and I must say, + not fair: the game was of my startin, and you've no right to interfere + with my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday not to know this + man, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should like to know + by what law of honor I am bound to give him up to you?” + </p> + <p> + It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talkin about HONOR. I declare + I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of the precious + way in which these chaps were going to serve him. But if THEY didn't know + what honor was, I did; and never, never did I tell tails about my masters + when in their sarvice—OUT, in cors, the hobligation is no longer + binding. + </p> + <p> + Well, the nex day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White soop, + turbit, and lobstir sos; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and M'Arony; wines, + shampang, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and ever so many of clarrit. + The compny presint was three; wiz., the Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. + Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. My i, how we genlmn in the kitchin did + enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when it was brot out of the + parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik; Mr. Dawkinses genlmn (who + was only abowt 13 years of age) grew so il with M'Arony and plumb-puddn, + as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's. pils, which 1/2 kild him. But + this is all promiscuous: I an't talkin of the survants now, but the + masters. + </p> + <p> + Would you bleeve it? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine between the + 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game where only 2 plays, and + where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on. + </p> + <p> + Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game they were + wonderful equill; and about supper-time (when grilled am, more shampang, + devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stood thus: Mr. + Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt 30 shillings; the Honrabble Mr. + Deuceace having lost 3L. l0s. After the devvle and the shampang the play + was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and five pound the bet. I + thought, to be sure, after hearing the complymints between Blewitt and + master in the morning, that now poor Dawkins's time was come. + </p> + <p> + Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and giving him the + very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt five + o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was counting up the skore on a + card. + </p> + <p> + “Blewitt,” says he, “I've been unlucky. I owe you, let me see—yes, + five-and-forty pounds?” + </p> + <p> + “Five-and-forty,” says Blewitt, “and no mistake!” + </p> + <p> + “I will give you a cheque,” says the honrabble genlmn. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!” But master got a grate sheet of + paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit and Co., his bankers. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” says master, “I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. Dawkins. If + you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sum of + money. Voyons, thirteen points at a pound—it is easy to calculate;” + and drawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, + which shon till they made my eyes wink. + </p> + <p> + So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drew + them in. + </p> + <p> + “Let me say,” added master, “let me say (and I've had some little + experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I ever sat + down.” + </p> + <p> + Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, “Law, Deuceace, + you flatter me.” + </p> + <p> + FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which master + ment. + </p> + <p> + “But mind you, Dawkins,” continyoud he, “I must have my revenge; for I'm + ruined—positively ruined by your luck.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he had + gained a millium, “shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, + consented too. “We'll meet,” says he, “at your chambers. But mind, my dear + fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especially when I + have to play ecarte with YOU.” + </p> + <p> + Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. “Here, Charles,” says he, + and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew what was a-comin! + </p> + <p> + But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, MASTER + HAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 more, from that + young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interview with + master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. + </p> + <p> + Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bit + wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his money; as it + was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very short time to + part with it. + </p> + <p> + Nex day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. Dawkins had + only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev his party,—dinner + at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D.'s as befoar. Play begins at 11. This + time I knew the bisness was pretty serious, for we suvvants was packed off + to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to chambers—no master—he + kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a little toilit, ordered more + devvles and soda-water, and back again he went to Mr. Dawkins's. + </p> + <p> + They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all the + vittles came out to us genlmn: they had in more wine though, and must have + drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. + </p> + <p> + At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to his + chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar drunk. He + staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he swoar, he flung me a + heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk down exosted on his bed; I pullin off + his boots and close, and making him comfrabble. + </p> + <p> + When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of every servant + to do—I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book and all + his letters: a number of axdents have been prevented that way. + </p> + <p> + I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty dockyment— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + I. O. U. + L 4700. + THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS. + Friday, 16th January. +</pre> + <p> + There was another bit of paper of the same kind—“I. 0. U. four + hundred pounds: Richard Blewitt:” but this, in corse, ment nothink. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He drest, and + was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and the two gentlmn went + together. + </p> + <p> + “Where shall he drive, sir?” says I. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, tell him to drive to THE BANK.” + </p> + <p> + Pore Dawkins! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkenniss, gave a + shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle; and they drove on. + </p> + <p> + That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred pounds. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up the + stairs with a sollum and important hair. + </p> + <p> + “Is your master at home?” says he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to the + keyhole, listning with all my mite. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Blewitt, “we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. + Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins.” + </p> + <p> + “Settled!” says master. “Oh, yes—yes—I've settled with him.” + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand seven hundred, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “About that—yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes my share—let me see—two thousand three hundred and + fifty; which I'll thank you to fork out.” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my word—why—Mr. Blewitt,” says master, “I don't really + understand what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!” says Blewitt, in an axent such as I never + before heard. “You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me that we + were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the other night to + pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't you swear, on your honor as a + gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair?” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed, sir,” says Deuceace; “agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, and now what have you to say?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool and ninny! + do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I was going to the + expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, that you should profit + by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! Or, stop—here—I + will give you four hundred pounds—your own note of hand, sir, for + that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passed between us, + and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace.” + </p> + <p> + I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He + stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began blubbring; now + cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace to grant him + mercy. + </p> + <p> + At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I didn't + tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, “Charles, show the + gentleman down stairs!” My master looked at him quite steddy. Blewitt + slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven + knows where he was! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + “Charles,” says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, “I'm going to + Paris; you may come, too, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FORING PARTS. + </h2> + <p> + It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had won + this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as extravygant and + osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he determined on going to + Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of all them winnings of his; + didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leave his + natiff shoars—neigh—didn't even so much as call together his + tradesmin, and pay off their little bills befor his departure. + </p> + <p> + On the contry, “Chawles,” said he to me, “stick a piece of paper on my + door,” which is the way that lawyers do, “and write 'Back at seven' upon + it.” Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it on our outer oak. And so + mistearus was Deuceace about his continental tour (to all except me), that + when the landriss brought him her account for the last month (amountain, + at the very least, to 2L. 10s.), master told her to leave it till Monday + morning, when it should be properly settled. It's extrodny how ickonomical + a man becomes, when he's got five thousand lbs. in his pockit. + </p> + <p> + Back at 7 indeed! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover Road, in the Reglator + Coach—master inside, me out. A strange company of people there was, + too, in that wehicle,—3 sailors; an Italyin with his music-box and + munky; a missionary, going to convert the heathens in France; 2 oppra + girls (they call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure-aunts' mothers inside; + 4 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and mustashes, singing, chattering, and + jesticklating in the most vonderful vay. Such compliments as passed + between them and the figure-aunts! such a munshin of biskits and sippin of + brandy! such “O mong Jews,” and “O sacrrres,” and “kill fay frwaws!” I + didn't understand their languidge at that time, so of course can't + igsplain much of their conwersation; but it pleased me, nevertheless, for + now I felt that I was reely going into foring parts: which, ever sins I + had had any edication at all, was always my fondest wish. Heavin bless us! + thought I, if these are specimeens of all Frenchmen, what a set they must + be. The pore Italyin's monky, sittin mopin and meluncolly on his box, was + not half so ugly, and seamed quite as reasonabble. + </p> + <p> + Well, we arrived at Dover—“Ship Hotel” weal cutlets half a ginny, + glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half a crownd, a hapnyworth of + wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master paid without grumbling; as + long as it was for himself he never minded the expens: and nex day we + embarked in the packit for Balong sir-mare—which means in French, + the town of Balong sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foring + wonders, expected this to be the fust and greatest: phansy, then, my + disapintment, when we got there, to find this Balong, not situated on the + sea, but on the SHOAR. + </p> + <p> + But oh! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I did wish for Pump Court + agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel! Gentle reader, av you ever + been on the otion?—“The sea, the sea, the open sea!” as Barry + Cromwell says. As soon as we entered our little wessel, and I'd looked to + master's luggitch and mine (mine was rapt up in a very small hankercher), + as soon, I say, as we entered our little wessel, as soon as I saw the + waives, black and frothy, like fresh drawn porter, a-dashin against the + ribs of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, splittin the billoes in + two, the sales a-flaffin in the hair, the standard of Hengland floating at + the mask-head, the steward a-getting ready the basins and things, the + capting proudly tredding the deck and giving orders to the salers, the + white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheens disappearing in the distans—then, + then I felt, for the first time, the mite, the madgisty of existence. + “Yellowplush my boy,” said I, in a dialogue with myself, “your life is now + about to commens—your carear, as a man, dates from your entrans on + board this packit. Be wise, be manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of + your youth. You are no longer a boy now, but a FOOTMAN. Throw down your + tops, your marbles, your boyish games—throw off your childish + habbits with your inky clerk's jackit—throw up your—” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the fust place + singlar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly overpowering, + had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, and now I found + myself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me to describe. Suffis to + say, that now I dixcovered what basins was made for—that for many, + many hours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and + porpuses, the rain pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body—the + panes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been about four hours in + this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to that + part of the deck where we servants were all huddled up together, and calls + out “Charles!” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says I, gurgling out a faint “yes, what's the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “You're wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Your master's wery ill,” says he, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “Master be hanged!” says I, turning round, more misrable than ever. I + woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand masters—no, not for + the Empror of Russia or the Pop of Room. + </p> + <p> + Well, to cut this sad subjik short, many and many a voyitch have I sins + had upon what Shakspur calls the “wasty dip,” but never such a retched one + as that from Dover to Balong, in the year Anna Domino 1818. Steemers were + scarce in those days; and our journey was made in a smack. At last, when I + was in a stage of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myself at + Death's doar, we got to the end of our journey. Late in the evening we + hailed the Gaelic shoars, and hankered in the arbor of Balong sir-mare. + </p> + <p> + It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master: and as we entered the + calm water, and saw the comfrabble lights gleaming in the houses, and felt + the roal of the vessel degreasing, never was two mortials gladder, I + warrant, than we were. At length our capting drew up at the key, and our + journey was down. But such a bustle and clatter, such jabbering, such + shrieking and swaring, such wollies of oafs and axicrations as saluted us + on landing, I never knew! We were boarded, in the fust place, by + custom-house officers in cock-hats, who seased our luggitch, and called + for our passpots: then a crowd of inn-waiters came, tumbling and screaming + on deck—“Dis way, sare,” cries one; “Hotel Meurice,” says another; + “Hotel de Bang,” screeches another chap—the tower of Babyle was + nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a big fellow + with ear-rings, who very nigh knock me down, in wrenching master's + carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carrying it to the hotell. But we got + to it safe at last; and, for the fust time in my life, I slep in a foring + country. + </p> + <p> + I shan't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been visited by + not less (on an avaridg) than two milliums of English since I fust saw it + twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known already. It's a dingy melumcolly + place, to my mind; the only thing moving in the streets is the gutter + which runs down 'em. As for wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em; and for frogs, + upon my honor I never see a single Frenchman swallow one, which I had been + led to beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, custom. One thing which + amazed me was the singlar name which they give to this town of Balong. + It's divided, as every boddy knows, into an upper town (sitouate on a + mounting, and surrounded by a wall, or bullyvar) and a lower town, which + is on the level of the sea. Well, will it be believed that they call the + upper town the Hot Veal, and the other the Base Veal, which is on the + contry, genrally good in France, though the beaf, it must be confest, is + excrabble. + </p> + <p> + It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at the Hotel de + Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew; and if he'd been + the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of Canterbury, he could not have + given himself greater hairs, I can tell you. Nothink was too fine for us + now; we had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, which belonged to the + prime minister of France (at least the landlord said they were the + premier's); and the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had not paid his + landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to think that goold was + too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would break down with a man of + his weight. Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, besides bordo, clarit, + burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the delixes of the Balong + kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, and did nothing from + morning till night excep walk on the bench, and watch the ships going in + and out of arber, with one of them long, sliding opra-glasses, which they + call, I don't know why, tallow-scoops. Our amusements for the fortnit we + stopped here were boath numerous and daliteful; nothink, in fact, could be + more pickong, as they say. In the morning before breakfast we boath walked + on the Peer; master in a blue mareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new + livry; both provided with long sliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I + don't know Y, but I suppose it's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. With + these we igsamined, very attentively, the otion, the sea-weed, the + pebbles, the dead cats, the fishwimmin, and the waives (like little + children playing at leap-frog), which came tumblin over 1 another on to + the shoar. It seemed to me as if they were scrambling to get there, as + well they might, being sick of the sea, and anxious for the blessid, + peaceable terry firmy. + </p> + <p> + After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his beat, and me on + mine,—for my place in this foring town was a complete shinycure), + and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, we egsamined a little more + the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on; and this lasted till dinner, and + dinner till bedtime, and bedtime lasted till nex day, when came brexfast, + and dinner, and tally-scooping, as before. This is the way with all people + of this town, of which, as I've heard say, there is ten thousand happy + English, who lead this plesnt life from year's end to year's end. + </p> + <p> + Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentlemen, a little + dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowygers. In none of these + amusements did we partake. We were a LITTLE too good to play crown pints + at cards, and never get paid when we won; or to go dangling after the + portionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops and penny-wist along with + the old ladies. No, no; my master was a man of fortn now, and behayved + himself as sich. If ever he condysended to go into the public room of the + Hotel de Bang—the French (doubtless for reasons best known to + themselves) call this a sallymanjy—he swoar more and lowder than any + one there; he abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his glas + in his i, he staired at every body. He took always the place before the + fire. He talked about “my carridge,” “my currier,” “my servant;” and he + did wright. I've always found through life, that if you wish to be + respected by English people, you must be insalent to them, especially if + you are a sprig of nobiliaty. We LIKE being insulted by noblemen,—it + shows they're familiar with us. Law bless us! I've known many and many a + genlmn about town who'd rather be kicked by a lord than not be noticed by + him; they've even had an aw of ME, because I was a lord's footman. While + my master was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airs I gave + myself in the kitching, I can tell you; and the consequints was, that we + were better served, and moar liked, than many pipple with twice our merit. + </p> + <p> + Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him so long at + Balong; and it clearly was his wish to act the man of fortune there for a + little time before he tried the character of Paris. He purchased a + carridge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine new livry blazin with + lace, and he past through the Balong bank a thousand pounds of the money + he had won from Dawkins, to his credit at a Paris house; showing the + Balong bankers at the same time, that he'd plenty moar in his potfolie. + This was killin two birds with one stone; the bankers' clerks spread the + nuse over the town, and in a day after master had paid the money every old + dowyger in Balong had looked out the Crabs' family podigree in the + Peeridge, and was quite intimate with the Deuceace name and estates. If + Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's many vurtuous English + mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town without + excommunicating with his father on the subject of his intended continental + tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my Lord Crabbs a + letter, of which I happen to have a copy. It ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + “BOULOGNE, January 25. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR FATHER,—I have long, in the course of my legal studies, + found the necessity of a knowledge of French, in which language all the + early history of our profession is written, and have determined to take a + little relaxation from chamber reading, which has seriously injured my + health. If my modest finances can bear a two months' journey, and a + residence at Paris, I propose to remain there that period. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to Lord + Bobtail, our ambassador? My name, and your old friendship with him, I know + would secure me a reception at his house; but a pressing letter from + yourself would at once be more courteous, and more effectual. + </p> + <p> + “May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an expensive + man, my dear father, as you know; but we are no chameleons, and fifty + pounds (with my little earnings in my profession) would vastly add to the + agremens of my continental excursion. + </p> + <p> + “Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish the hard + portion of a younger son had not been mine, and that I could live without + the dire necessity for labor, happy among the rural scenes of my + childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters and you! Heaven bless + you, dearest father, and all those beloved ones now dwelling under the + dear old roof at Sizes. + </p> + <p> + “Ever your affectionate son, + </p> + <p> + “Algernon. + </p> + <p> + “THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS, &c., + </p> + <p> + SIZES COURT, BUCKS.” + </p> + <p> + To this affeckshnat letter his lordship replied, by return of poast, as + follos:— + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR ALGERNON,—Your letter came safe to hand and I enclose you + the letter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and has one + of the best cooks in Europe. + </p> + <p> + “We were all charmed with your warm remembrances of us, not having seen + you for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family affection + which, in spite of time and absence, still clings so fondly to home. It is + a sad, selfish world, and very few who have entered it can afford to keep + those fresh feelings which you have, my dear son. + </p> + <p> + “May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer. Be sure, + dear Algernon, that they will be through life your greatest comfort, as + well as your best worldly ally; consoling you in misfortune, cheering you + in depression, aiding and inspiring you to exertion and success. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at Coutts's is so low, just now, + as to render a payment of your allowance for the present impossible. I see + by my book that I owe you now nine quarters, or 450L. Depend on it, my + dear boy, that they shall be faithfully paid over to you on the first + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the newspapers, which may + interest you: and have received a very strange letter from a Mr. Blewitt, + about a play transaction, which, I suppose, is the case alluded to in + these prints. He says you won 4700L. from one Dawkins: that the lad paid + it; that he, Blewitt, was to go what he calls 'snacks' in the winning; but + that you refused to share the booty. How can you, my dear boy, quarrel + with these vulgar people, or lay yourself in any way open to their + attacks? I have played myself a good deal, and there is no man living who + can accuse me of a doubtful act. You should either have shot this Blewitt + or paid him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late to do the former; + and, perhaps, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. My dearest boy! + recollect through life that YOU NEVER CAN AFFORD TO BE DISHONEST WITH A + ROQUE. Four thousand seven hundred pounds was a great coup, to be sure. + </p> + <p> + “As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Algernon! lend me + five hundred pounds? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay you. Your + brothers and sisters send you their love. I need not add, that you have + always the blessings of your affectionate father, + </p> + <p> + “CRABS.” + </p> + <p> + “P.S.—Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a + thousand.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + I needn't say that this did not QUITE enter into Deuceace's eyedears. Lend + his father 500 pound, indeed! He'd as soon have lent him a box on the + year! In the fust place, he hadn seen old Crabs for seven years, as that + nobleman remarked in his epistol; in the secknd he hated him, and they + hated each other; and nex, if master had loved his father ever so much, he + loved somebody else better—his father's son, namely: and sooner than + deprive that exlent young man of a penny, he'd have sean all the fathers + in the world hangin at Newgat, and all the “beloved ones,” as he called + his sisters, the Lady Deuceacisses, so many convix at Bottomy Bay. + </p> + <p> + The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret WE wished to keep the + play transaction, the public knew it now full well. Blewitt, as I found + after, was the author of the libels which appeared right and left: + </p> + <p> + “GAMBLING IN HIGH LIFE—the HONORABLE Mr. D—c—ce again!—This + celebrated whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some profit. On + Friday, the 16th January, he won five thousand pounds from a VERY young + gentleman, Th-m-s Sm-th D-wk-ns, Esq., and lost two thousand five hundred + to R. Bl-w-tt, Esq., of the T-mple. Mr. D. very honorably paid the sum + lost by him to the honorable whist-player, but we have not heard that, + BEFORE HIS SUDDEN TRIP TO PARIS, Mr. D—uc—ce paid HIS losings + to Mr. Bl-w-tt.” + </p> + <p> + Nex came a “Notice to Corryspondents:” + </p> + <p> + “Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the notorious + Deuceace? We answer, WE DO; and, in our very next Number, propose to make + some of them public.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + They didn't appear, however; but, on the contry, the very same newspeper, + which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, was now loud in his praise. + It said:— + </p> + <p> + “A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last week, most + unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of high birth and talents, + the son of the exemplary E-rl of Cr-bs. We repel, with scorn and + indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the malignant slanderer who + vilified Mr. De—ce-ce, and beg to offer that gentleman the only + reparation in our power for having thus tampered with his unsullied name. + We disbelieve the RUFFIAN and HIS STORY, and most sincerely regret that + such a tale, or SUCH A WRITER, should ever have been brought forward to + the readers of this paper.” + </p> + <p> + This was satisfactory, and no mistake: and much pleased we were at the + denial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased that master sent him a + ten-pound noat, and his complymints. He'd sent another to the same + address, BEFORE this parrowgraff was printed; WHY, I can't think: for I + woodn't suppose any thing musnary in a littery man. + </p> + <p> + Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the carridge + smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we bade ojew to + Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure we cut! and, my i, + what a figger the postillion cut! A cock-hat, a jackit made out of a cow's + skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-tale about 3 fit in length, and a + pair of boots! Oh, sich a pare! A bishop might almost have preached out of + one, or a modrat-sized famly slep in it. Me and Mr. Schwigshhnaps, the + currier, sate behind in the rumbill; master aloan in the inside, as grand + as a Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off we sett, bowing gracefly + to the crowd; the harniss-bells jinglin, the great white hosses snortin, + kickin, and squeelin, and the postilium cracking his wip, as loud as if + he'd been drivin her majesty the quean. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + Well, I shan't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties, willitches, + and metrappolishes; sleeping the fust night at Amiens, witch, as + everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for what's called the + Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done with sugar and brown sos, in + the Amiens way. But after all the boasting about them, I think I like our + marrowphats better. + </p> + <p> + Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here concarning + them. Master, who was brexfasting before going away, told me to go and get + him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald the waiter of the inn, who + stared, grinned (as these chaps always do), said “Bong” (which means, very + well), and presently came back. + </p> + <p> + I'M BLEST IF HE DIDN'T BRING MASTER A PLATE OF CABBITCH! Would you bleave + it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they say there's + schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses are so extonishingly + ignorant as to call a CABBIDGE a SHOO! Never, never let it be said, after + this, that these benighted, souperstitious, misrabble SAVIDGES, are + equill, in any respex, to the great Brittish people. The moor I travvle, + the moor I see of the world, and other natiums, I am proud of my own, and + despise and deplore the retchid ignorance of the rest of Yourup. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early opportunity. Me and + Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. + </h2> + <p> + THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY. + </p> + <p> + Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K.C.B., was about seventy-five + years old when he left this life, and the East Ingine army, of which he + was a distinguished ornyment. Sir George's first appearance in Injar was + in the character of a cabbingboy to a vessel; from which he rose to be + clerk to the owners at Calcutta, from which he became all of a sudden a + capting in the Company's service; and so rose and rose, until he rose to + be a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising altogether—hopping + the twig of this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors must + do. + </p> + <p> + Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the name of Griffin. A + widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching twenty-three, was + left behind to deploar his loss, and share his proppaty. On old Sir + George's deth, his interesting widdo and orfan, who had both been with him + in Injer, returned home—tried London for a few months, did not like + it, and resolved on a trip to Paris; where very small London people become + very great ones, if they've money, as these Griffinses had. The + intelligent reader need not be told that Miss Griffin was not the daughter + of Lady Griffin; for though marritches are made tolrabbly early in Injer, + people are not quite so precoashoos as all that: the fact is, Lady G. was + Sir George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that Miss Matilda Griffin + wos the offspring of his fust marritch. + </p> + <p> + Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken out to + Calcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disposed of by + her uncle, Capting Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she married Sir George + at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine of whom kep a school at + Islington (the other 4 being married variously in the city), were not a + little envius of my lady's luck, and not a little proud of their + relationship to her. One of 'em, Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, and by + no means the least ugly of the sett, was staying with her ladyship, and + gev me all the partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, being of a lo sort, + I in course no nothink; MY acquaintance, thank my stars, don't lie among + them, or the likes of them. + </p> + <p> + Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat sister, in + the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing! I'd a soon be a gally + slave, as lead the life she did! Every body in the house despised her; her + ladyship insulted her; the very kitching gals scorned and flouted her. She + roat the notes, she kep the bills, she made the tea, she whipped the + chocklate, she cleaned the canary birds, and gev out the linning for the + wash. She was my lady's walking pocket, or rettycule; and fetched and + carried her handkercher, or her smell-bottle, like a well-bred spaniel. + All night, at her ladyship's swarries, she thumped kidrills (nobody ever + thought of asking HER to dance!); when Miss Griffing sung, she played the + piano, and was scolded because the singer was out of tune; abommanating + dogs, she never drove out without her ladyship's puddle in her lap; and, + reglarly unwell in a carriage, she never got anything but the back seat. + Poar Jemima! I can see her now in my lady's SECKND-BEST old clothes (the + ladies'-maids always got the prime leavings): a liloc sattn gown, + crumpled, blotched, and greasy; a pair of white sattn shoes, of the color + of Inger rubber; a faded yellow velvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl + flowers run to sead, and a bird of Parrowdice perched on the top of it, + melumcolly and moulting, with only a couple of feathers left in his + unfortunate tail. + </p> + <p> + Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Lady and Miss Griffin kept a number + of other servants in the kitching; 2 ladies'-maids; 2 footmin, six feet + high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white cassymear pantyloons; a + coachmin to match; a page: and a Shassure, a kind of servant only known + among forriners, and who looks more like a major-general than any other + mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a unicorn covered with silver lace, + mustashos, eplets, and a sword by his side. All these to wait upon two + ladies; not counting a host of the fair sex, such as cooks, scullion, + housekeepers, and so forth. + </p> + <p> + My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a grand sweet of + rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having thus described their + house, and their servants' hall, I may give a few words of description + concerning the ladies themselves. + </p> + <p> + In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My lady was + twenty-seven—a widdo of two years—fat, fair, and rosy. A slow, + quiet, cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals generally are, it + seemed difficult to rouse her either into likes or dislikes; to the + former, at least. She never loved any body but ONE, and that was herself. + She hated, in her calm, quiet way, almost every one else who came near her—every + one, from her neighbor, the duke, who had slighted her at dinner, down to + John the footman, who had torn a hole in her train. I think this woman's + heart was like one of them lithograffic stones, you CAN'T RUB OUT ANY + THING when once it's drawn or wrote on it; nor could you out of her + ladyship's stone—heart, I mean—in the shape of an affront, a + slight, or real, or phansied injury. She boar an exlent, irreprotchable + character, against which the tongue of scandal never wagged. She was + allowed to be the best wife posbill—and so she was; but she killed + her old husband in two years, as dead as ever Mr. Thurtell killed Mr. + William Weare. She never got into a passion, not she—she never said + a rude word; but she'd a genius—a genius which many women have—of + making A HELL of a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures of her family, + until they were wellnigh drove mad. + </p> + <p> + Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as amiable as her + mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted; my lady, to do her justice, + was straight, and looked the same way with her i's. She was dark, and my + lady was fair—sentimental, as her ladyship was cold. My lady was + never in a passion—Miss Matilda always; and awfille were the scenes + which used to pass between these 2 women, and the wickid, wickid quarls + which took place. Why did they live together? There was the mistry. Not + related, and hating each other like pison, it would surely have been + easier to remain seprat, and so have detested each other at a distans. + </p> + <p> + As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it was clear, was + very considrabble—300 thousand lb. at the least, as I have heard + say. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. Some said that her ladyship + was sole mistriss of it, others that it was divided, others that she had + only a life inkum, and that the money was all to go (as was natral) to + Miss Matilda. These are subjix which are not praps very interesting to the + British public, but were mighty important to my master, the Honrable + Algernon Percy Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, etsettler. + </p> + <p> + For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very intimat in this + house; and that we were now comfortably settled at the Hotel Mirabew + (pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rew delly Pay, at Paris. We had our + cab, and two riding horses; our banker's book, and a thousand pound for a + balantz at Lafitt's; our club at the corner of the Rew Gramong; our share + in a box at the oppras; our apartments, spacious and elygant; our swarries + at court; our dinners at his excellency Lord Bobtail's and elsewhere. + Thanks to poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, we were as complete + gentlemen as any in Paris. + </p> + <p> + Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself at the head of a + smart sum of money, and in a country where his debts could not bother him, + determined to give up for the present every think like gambling—at + least, high play; as for losing or winning a ralow of Napoleums at whist + or ecarty, it did not matter; it looks like money to do such things, and + gives a kind of respectabilaty. “But as for play, he wouldn't—oh no! + not for worlds!—do such a thing.” He HAD played, like other young + men of fashn, and won and lost [old fox! he didn't say he had PAID]; but + he had given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said, to live on + his inkum. The fact is, my master was doing his very best to act the + respectable man: and a very good game it is, too; but it requires a + precious great roag to play it. + </p> + <p> + He made his appearans reglar at church—me carrying a handsome large + black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the psalms and lessons marked + out with red ribbings; and you'd have thought, as I graivly laid the + volloms down before him, and as he berried his head in his nicely brushed + hat, before service began, that such a pious, proper morl, young nobleman + was not to be found in the whole of the peeridge. It was a comfort to look + at him. Efry old tabby and dowyger at my Lord Bobtail's turned up the + wights of their i's when they spoke of him, and vowed they had never seen + such a dear, daliteful, exlent young man. What a good son he must be, they + said; and oh, what a good son-in-law! He had the pick of all the English + gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, unfortunately, most + of them were poar; and love and a cottidge was not quite in master's way + of thinking. + </p> + <p> + Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. made their appearants at + Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon changed his noat. He + sate near them at chapple, and sung hims with my lady: he danced with 'em + at the embassy balls; he road with them in the Boy de Balong and the + Shandeleasies (which is the French High Park); he roat potry in Miss + Griffin's halbim, and sang jewets along with her and Lady Griffin; he + brought sweet-meats for the puddle-dog; he gave money to the footmin, + kissis and gloves to the sniggering ladies'-maids; he was sivvle even to + poar Miss Kicksey; there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses that + didn't adoar this good young man. + </p> + <p> + The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each other now + wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy between them: miss + jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty; madam of miss's espree: miss + taunting my lady about the school at Islington, and my lady sneering at + miss for her squint and her crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. + They both fell in love with Mr. Deuceace—my lady, that is to say, as + much as she could, with her cold selfish temper. She liked Deuceace, who + amused her and made her laff. She liked his manners, his riding, and his + good loox; and being a pervinew herself had a dubble respect for real + aristocratick flesh and blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flams + and fury. She'd always been at this work from the time she had been at + school, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master; next with a + footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no means unnatral or + unusyouall, as I COULD SHOW IF I LIKED); and so had been going on sins + fifteen. She reglarly flung herself at Deuceace's head—such sighing, + crying, and ogling, I never see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, as + I brought master skoars of rose-colored billydoos, folded up like + cockhats, and smellin like barber's shops, which this very tender young + lady used to address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and no + mistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good breading; and miss CAME A + LITTLE TOO STRONG (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression) with her hardor + and attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides, she had a crookid spine, + and a squint; so that (supposing their fortns tolrabbly equal) Deuceace + reely preferred the mother-in-law. + </p> + <p> + Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most money. With + an English famly this would have been easy: a look at a will at Doctor + Commons'es would settle the matter at once. But this India naybob's will + was at Calcutty, or some outlandish place; and there was no getting sight + of a coppy of it. I will do Mr. Algernon Deuceace the justass to say, that + he was so little musnary in his love for Lady Griffin, that he would have + married her gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds less than Miss + Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both in play, until he + could strike the best fish of the two—not a difficult matter for a + man of his genus: besides, Miss was hooked for certain. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. + </h2> + <h3> + “HONOR THY FATHER.” + </h3> + <p> + I said that my master was adoard by every person in my Lady Griffin's + establishmint. I should have said by every person excep one,—a young + French gnlmn, that is, who, before our appearants, had been mighty + partiklar with my lady, ockupying by her side exackly the same pasition + which the Honrable Mr. Deuceace now held. It was bewtiffle and headifying + to see how coolly that young nobleman kicked the poar Shevalliay de L'Orge + out of his shoes, and how gracefully he himself stept into 'em. Munseer de + L'Orge was a smart young French jentleman, of about my master's age and + good looks, but not possest of half my master's impidince. Not that that + quallaty is uncommon in France; but few, very few, had it to such a degree + as my exlent employer, Mr. Deuceace. Besides De L'Orge was reglarly and + reely in love with Lady Griffin, and master only pretending: he had, of + coars, an advantitch, which the poor Frentchman never could git. He was + all smiles and gaty, while Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My master + had said twenty pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the shevalier had + finished smoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his + weskit. O luv, luv! THIS isn't the way to win a woman, or my name's not + Fitzroy Yellowplush! Myself, when I begun my carear among the fair six, I + was always sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman. What was the + consquints? The foar fust women I adoared lafft at me, and left me for + something more lively. With the rest I have edopted a diffrent game, and + with tolerable suxess, I can tell you. But this is eggatism, which I + aboar. + </p> + <p> + Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdinand Hyppolite + Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was reglar cut out by Munseer + Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand did not leave the house—he + hadn't the heart to do that—nor had my lady the desire to dismiss + him. He was usefle in a thousand different ways, gitting oppra-boxes, and + invitations to French swarries, bying gloves, and O de Colong, writing + French noats, and such like. Always let me recommend an English famly, + going to Paris, to have at least one young man of the sort about them. + Never mind how old your ladyship is, he will make love to you; never mind + what errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and do them. Besides, he's + always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx moar than a pint of wine at + dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to consider. Such a conveniants of a + man was Munseer de L'Orge—the greatest use and comfort to my lady + posbill; if it was but to laff at his bad pronunciatium of English, it was + somethink amusink; the fun was to pit him against poar Miss Kicksey, she + speakin French, and he our naytif British tong. + </p> + <p> + My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this poar young + Frenchman; and having kicked him out of the place which he occupied, + sertingly treated his fallen anymy with every respect and consideration. + Poar modist, down-hearted little Ferdinand adoured my lady as a goddice! + and so he was very polite likewise to my master—never venturing once + to be jellows of him, or to question my Lady Griffin's right to change her + lover, if she choase to do so. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, matters stood; master had two strinx to his bo, and might take + either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred: com bong lwee somblay, as + the Frentch say. His only pint was to discover how the money was disposed + off, which evidently belonged to one or other, or boath. At any rate he + was sure of one; as sure as any mortal man can be in this sublimary spear, + where nothink is suttin except unsertnty. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal changed + my master's calkylations. + </p> + <p> + One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after suppink of + white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang glassy (which means eyced), at + their house in the Plas Vandom, me and master droav hoam in the cab, as + happy as possbill. + </p> + <p> + “Chawls you d——d scoundrel,” says he to me (for he was in an + exlent humer), “when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis.” + </p> + <p> + This he might do, to be sure, without injuring himself, seeing that he had + us yet never paid me any. But, what then? Law bless us! things would be at + a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived on our WAGIS; our puckwisits is + the thing, and no mistake. + </p> + <p> + I ixprest my gratitude as best I could; swoar that it wasn't for wagis I + served him—that I would as leaf weight upon him for nothink; and + that never, never, so long as I livd, would I, of my own accord, part from + such an exlent master. By the time these two spitches had been made—my + spitch and his—we arrived at the “Hotel Mirabeu;” which, us every + body knows, ain't very distant from the Plas Vandome. Up we marched to our + apartmince, me carrying the light and the cloax, master hummink a hair out + of the oppra, as merry as a lark. + </p> + <p> + I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in the room; an + empty shampang bottle roalin on the floar, another on the table; near + which the sofy was drawn, and on it lay a stout old genlmn, smoaking + seagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room. + </p> + <p> + Deuceace (who abommunates seagars, as I've already shown) bust into a + furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see for the smoak; + and, with a number of oaves quite unnecessary to repeat, asked him what + bisniss he'd there. + </p> + <p> + The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his seagar, began a ror of + laffin, and said, “What! Algy my boy! don't you know me?” + </p> + <p> + The reader may praps recklect a very affecting letter which was published + in the last chapter of these memoars; in which the writer requested a loan + of five hundred pound from Mr. Algernon Deuceace, and which boar the + respected signatur of the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Deuceace's own father. It was + that distinguished arastycrat who was now smokin and laffin in our room. + </p> + <p> + My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A stowt, burly, + red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose seemed blushing at what his + mouth was continually swallowing; whose hand, praps, trembled a little; + and whose thy and legg was not quite so full or as steddy as they had been + in former days. But he was a respecktabble, fine-looking old nobleman; and + though it must be confest, 1/2 drunk when we fust made our appearance in + the salong, yet by no means moor so than a reel noblemin ought to be. + </p> + <p> + “What, Algy my boy!” shouts out his lordship, advancing and seasing master + by the hand, “doan't you know your own father?” + </p> + <p> + Master seemed anythink but overhappy. “My lord,” says he, looking very + pail, and speakin rayther slow, “I didn't—I confess—the + unexpected pleasure—of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir, said + he,” recovering himself a little; “the fact is, there was such a + confounded smoke of tobacco in the room, that I really could not see who + the stranger was who had paid me such an unexpected visit.” + </p> + <p> + “A bad habit, Algernon; a bad habit,” said my lord, lighting another + seagar: “a disgusting and filthy practice, which you, my dear child, will + do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, but a nasty, idle pastime, + unfitting a man as well for mental exertion as for respectable society; + sacrificing, at once, the vigor of the intellect and the graces of the + person. By-the-by, what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, in this + hotel. Could not you send your servant to get me a few seagars at the Cafe + de Paris? Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, that's a + good fellow.” + </p> + <p> + Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of shampang. Very + sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me on the errint. + </p> + <p> + Knowing the Cafe de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say a word, + but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room; where, as it happened by a + singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of the conversation between + this exlent pair of relatifs. + </p> + <p> + “Help yourself, and get another bottle,” says my lord, after a sollum + paws. My poar master, the king of all other compnies in which he moved, + seamed here but to play secknd fiddill, and went to the cubbard, from + which his father had already igstracted two bottils of his prime Sillary. + </p> + <p> + He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the windows, stirred + the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and suttnly seamed as + uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no use; the old one would not + budg. “Help yourself,” says he again, “and pass me the bottil.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, father,” says master; “but really, I neither drink nor + smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Right, my boy: quite right. Talk about a good conscience in this life—a + good STOMACK is everythink. No bad nights, no headachs—eh? Quite + cool and collected for your law studies in the morning?—eh?” And the + old nobleman here grinned, in a manner which would have done creddit to + Mr. Grimoldi. + </p> + <p> + Master sate pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier under the cat. + He didn't anser a word. His exlent pa went on, warming as he continued to + speak, and drinking a fresh glas at evry full stop. + </p> + <p> + “How you must improve, with such talents and such principles! Why, + Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance: you're not + merely a philosopher, man; hang it! you've got the philosopher's stone. + Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all for 200 a year!” + </p> + <p> + “I presume, sir,” says my master, “that you mean the two hundred a year + which YOU pay me?” + </p> + <p> + “The very sum, my boy; the very sum!” cries my lord, laffin as if he would + die. “Why, that's the wonder! I never pay the two hundred a year, and you + keep all this state up upon nothing. Give me your secret, O you young + Trismegistus! Tell your old father how such wonders can be worked, and I + will—yes, then, upon my word, I will—pay you your two hundred + a year!” + </p> + <p> + “Enfin, my lord,” says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and losing all patience, + “will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit means? You leave me + to starve, for all you care; and you grow mighty facetious because I earn + my bread. You find me in prosperity, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, my boy; precisely. Keep your temper, and pass that bottle. I + find you in prosperity; and a young gentleman of your genius and + acquirements asks me why I seek your society? Oh, Algernon! Algernon! this + is not worthy of such a profound philosopher. WHY do I seek you? Why, + because you ARE in prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil should I + bother my self about you? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, ever + get from you a single affectionate feeling? Did we, or any other of your + friends or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honest or + generous action? Did we ever pretend any love for you, or you for us? + Algernon Deuceace, you don't want a father to tell you that you are a + swindler and a spendthrift! I have paid thousands for the debts of + yourself and your brothers; and, if you pay nobody else, I am determined + you shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means, when I wrote to you + and asked you for a loan of money. I knew you would not. Had I written + again to warn you of my coming, you would have given me the slip; and so I + came, uninvited, to FORCE you to repay me. THAT'S why I am here, Mr. + Algernon; and so help yourself and pass the bottle.” + </p> + <p> + After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, and puffed as + much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chimley of a steam-injian. + I was pleased, I confess, with the sean, and liked to see this venrabble + and virtuous old man a-nocking his son about the hed; just as Deuceace had + done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, as I've before shown. Master's face was, + fust, red-hot; next, chawk-white: and then sky-blew. He looked, for all + the world, like Mr. Tippy Cooke in the tragady of Frankinstang. At last, + he mannidged to speek. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” says he, “I expected when I saw you that some such scheme was + on foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at least it is but a family + failing; and I am indebted for my virtues to my father's precious example. + Your lordship has, I perceive, added drunkenness to the list of your + accomplishments, and, I suppose, under the influence of that gentlemanly + excitement, has come to make these preposterous propositions to me. When + you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, that, fool as I + may be, I am not such a fool as you think me; and that if I have got + money, I intend to keep it—every farthing of it, though you were to + be ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening as you are now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, my boy,” said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have been half asleep + during his son's oratium, and received all his sneers and surcasms with + the most complete good-humor; “well, well, if you will resist, tant pis + pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you, recollect, and am not in the + slightest degree angry but I must and will have a thousand pounds. You had + better give me the money at once; it will cost you more if you don't.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” says Mr. Deuceace, “I will be equally candid. I would not give you + a farthing to save you from—” + </p> + <p> + Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my hat, said, “I + have been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the house is shut.” + </p> + <p> + “Bon: there's a good lad; you may keep the five francs. And now, get me a + candle and show me down stairs.” + </p> + <p> + But my master seized the wax taper. “Pardon me, my lord,” says he. “What! + a servant do it, when your son is in the room? Ah, par exemple, my dear + father,” said he, laughing, “you think there is no politeness left among + us.” And he led the way out. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, my dear boy,” said Lord Crabs. + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, sir,” says he. “Are you wrapped warm? Mind the step!” + </p> + <p> + And so this affeckshnate pair parted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. + </h2> + <h3> + MINEWVRING. + </h3> + <p> + Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants—he seamed to + think that his pa's visit boded him no good. I heard him muttering at his + brexfast, and fumbling among his hundred pound notes; once he had laid a + parsle of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to his father. + “But no,” says he at last, clutching them all up together again, and + throwing them into his escritaw, “what harm can he do me? If he is a + knave, I know another who's full as sharp. Let's see if we cannot beat him + at his own weapons.” With that Mr. Deuceace drest himself in his best + clothes, and marched off to the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to the fair + widdo and the intresting orfn. + </p> + <p> + It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on seeing them, + a number of planns for the day's rackryation. Riding in the Body Balong, + going to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet (who was then the raining + sufferin of the French crownd) go to chapple, and, finely, a dinner at 5 + o'clock at the Caffy de Parry; whents they were all to adjourn, to see a + new peace at the theatre of the Pot St. Martin, called Sussannar and the + Elders. + </p> + <p> + The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepositiums. “We have + an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon,” said my lady. “Look—a very + kind letter from Lady Bobtail.” And she handed over a pafewmd noat from + that exolted lady. It ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + “FBG. ST. HONORE, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR LADY GRIFFIN,—It is an age since we met. Harassing public + duties occupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have scarce time to + see our private friends; among whom, I hope, my dear Lady Griffin will + allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so unceremonious an invitation, and + dine with us at the embassy to-day? We shall be en petite comite, and + shall have the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some of your charming + daughter's singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, to have addressed a + separate, note to dear Miss Griffin; but I hope she will pardon a poor + diplomate, who has so many letters to write, you know. + </p> + <p> + “Farewell till seven, when I POSITIVELY MUST see you both. Ever, dearest + Lady Griffin, your affectionate + </p> + <p> + “ELIZA BOBTAIL.” + </p> + <p> + Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's Shassure, and + sealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody in the middling ranx of + life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with delight; and, long before my master's + arrivle, she'd sent Mortimer and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, along with + a polite reply in the affummatiff. + </p> + <p> + Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt that there was + somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, though he could not tell how, + was sure that some danger was near him. That old fox of a father of his + had begun his M'Inations pretty early! + </p> + <p> + Deuceace handed back the letter; sneared, and poohd, and hinted that such + an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a pees ally); and, the + ladies might depend upon it, was only sent because Lady Bobtail wanted to + fill up two spare places at her table. But Lady Griffin and Miss would not + have his insinwations; they knew too fu lords ever to refuse an invitatium + from any one of them. Go they would; and poor Deuceace must dine alone. + After they had been on their ride, and had had their other amusemince, + master came back with them, chatted, and laft; he was mighty sarkastix + with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss; and left them both in + high sperrits to perform their twollet, before dinner. + </p> + <p> + As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the house), + as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw master very + quietly taking his pocket-book (or pot fool, as the French call it) and + thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the sofa. What game is this? + thinx I. + </p> + <p> + Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the ladies were + gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of his potfolio; and + back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it there. + </p> + <p> + “Pray,” says he, on going in, “ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for a + single moment.” And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy to + see him. + </p> + <p> + “Law, Mr. Deuceace!” says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she could, + “you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really, being alone, + to admit a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here for a + double purpose—to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and + may, perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will have the + great goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your + nice tea?” + </p> + <p> + NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had eaten a + morsle of dinner! + </p> + <p> + Never mind: down to tea they sat. “Do you take cream and sugar, dear sir?” + says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff. + </p> + <p> + “Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!” answers master; who stowed in a power of + sashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman. + </p> + <p> + I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master and + this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to + talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to find out + from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at once + which of the two Griffinses he should marry. + </p> + <p> + The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In a + quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, “turned her + inside out.” He knew everything that she knew; and that, poar creature, + was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, in + money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies signed + papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly divided + betwigst them. + </p> + <p> + NINE THOUSAND A YEAR! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his heart + beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be master of + five thousand per hannum! + </p> + <p> + Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? All the + tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and Deuceace + thought it a pity that he could not marry both. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception at + the ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin drive on + with a gentlemin who had handed them out—a stout old gentlemin, who + shook hands most tenderly at parting, and promised to call often upon my + Lady Griffin. He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the stairs with + her ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. “Edward,” says she to the + coachmin, quite loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotel should + hear her, “you will take the carriage, and drive HIS LORDSHIP home.” Now, + can you guess who his lordship was? The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs, to + be sure; the very old genlmn whom I had seen on such charming terms with + his son the day before. Master knew this the nex day, and began to think + he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousand pound. + </p> + <p> + Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's only came to + my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, word for word, as + they was told me by the very genlmn who waited behind Lord Crabseses + chair. + </p> + <p> + There was only a “petty comity” at dinner, as Lady Bobtail said; and my + Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Griffinses, being mighty ellygant + and palite to both. “Allow me,” says he to Lady G. (between the soop and + the fish), “my dear madam, to thank you—fervently thank you for your + goodness to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, but, I + am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which must fill a + fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his child. Believe me,” says my + lord, looking her full and tenderly in the face, “that the favors you have + done to another have been done equally to myself, and awaken in my bosom + the same grateful and affectionate feelings with which you have already + inspired my son Algernon.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell into her + fish-plate: and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as she would so + many musharuins. My lord (whose powers of slack-jaw was notoarious) nex + addrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceace + was SITUATED. Miss blusht—what a happy dog he was—Miss blusht + crimson, and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and + lobster sos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless you! he was no + moar equill to the old man than a mole-hill is to a mounting. Before the + night was over, he had made as much progress as another man would in a + ear. One almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked + leering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, and, + above all, the bewtific, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of his genral + conservation. Praps you will say that these ladies were, for such rich + pipple, mightaly esaly captivated; but recklect, my dear sir, that they + were fresh from Injar,—that they'd not sean many lords,—that + they adoared the peeridge, as every honest woman does in England who has + proper feelinx, and has read the fashnabble novvles,—and that here + at Paris was their fust step into fashnabble sosiaty. + </p> + <p> + Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing “Die tantie,” or “Dip + your chair,” or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs (when she began + this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets hold of Lady + Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a very different + strane. + </p> + <p> + “What a blessing it is for us all,” says he, “that Algernon has found a + friend so respectable as your ladyship.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, my lord; and why? I suppose I am not the only respectable friend + that Mr. Deuceace has?” + </p> + <p> + “No, surely; not the only one he HAS HAD: his birth, and, permit me to + say, his relationship to myself, have procured him many. But—” (here + my lord heaved a very affecting and large sigh). + </p> + <p> + “But what?” says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal face. + “You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them or is unworthy of them?” + </p> + <p> + “I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, thoughtless, + extravagant, and embarrassed: and you know a man under these circumstances + is not very particular as to his associates.” + </p> + <p> + “Embarrassed? Good heavens! He says he has two thousand a year left him by + a god-mother; and he does not seem even to spend his income—a very + handsome independence, too, for a bachelor.” + </p> + <p> + My lord nodded his head sadly, and said,—“Will your ladyship give me + your word of honor to be secret? My son has but a thousand a year, which I + allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, madam, I fear; and for + this reason I am so glad to hear that he is in a respectable domestic + circle, where he may learn, in the presence of far greater and purer + attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which has been + his bane.” + </p> + <p> + My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was Deuceace + sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper wooing her + for her money? Could she doubt her informer? his own father, and, what's + more, a real flesh and blood pear of parlyment? She determined she would + try him. Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, until she + kem to feel how much she should HATE him if she found he'd been playing + her false. + </p> + <p> + The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen,—my lord + driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking up + stairs to their own apartmince. + </p> + <p> + Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, and + evidently full of a secret,—something mighty pleasant, to judge from + her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies + (for in that house they took a cup regular before bedtime), “Well, my + lady,” says she, “who do you think has been to drink tea with me?” Poar + thing, a frendly face was a event in her life—a tea-party quite a + hera! + </p> + <p> + “Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid,” says my lady, looking grave. “I wish, Miss + Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics. + Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome + gentleman, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then,” says Miss; “he promised to bring me + some guitar-strings.” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor yet M. de l'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to ask for + me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. Algernon + Deuceace;” and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, and + looked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?” says my lady, who recklected all that + his exlent pa had been saying to her. + </p> + <p> + “Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the second, + he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, and stayed with + me an hour, or moar.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, Miss Kicksey,” said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, “what + may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. Algernon? Did you + talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics?” Miss M. being what + was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are), always made + a pint to speak on these grand subjects. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know, + Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about the + weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked + best; and then we talked” (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) “about poor + dear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he was, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What a good fortune he left, eh, Miss Kicksey?” says my lady, with a + hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband, and + seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming to hear + him, dear man!” + </p> + <p> + “And pray, Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year, and—” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, nothing; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had ninety,” says + poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Ninety fiddlesticks! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the money was left, and + to which of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I could not tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew it!” says my lady, slapping down her tea-cup,—“I knew it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” says Miss Matilda, “and why not, Lady Griffin? There is no reason + you should break your tea-cup, because Algernon asks a harmless question. + HE is not mercenary; he is all candor, innocence, generosity! He is + himself blessed with a sufficient portion of the world's goods to be + content; and often and often has he told me he hoped the woman of his + choice might come to him without a penny, that he might show the purity of + his affection.” + </p> + <p> + “I've no doubt,” says my lady. “Perhaps the lady of his choice is Miss + Matilda Griffin!” and she flung out of the room, slamming the door, and + leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, as was her reglar custom, and + pour her loves and woas into the buzzom of Miss Kicksey. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. + </h2> + <h3> + “HITTING THE NALE ON THE HEDD.” + </h3> + <p> + The nex morning, down came me and master to Lady Griffinses,—I + amusing myself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying his devours to the + ladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming on her gitter; my lady was before + a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers' books, lawyers' + letters, and what not. Law bless us! it's a kind of bisniss I should like + well enuff; especially when my hannual account was seven or eight thousand + on the right side, like my lady's. My lady in this house kep all these + matters to herself. Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentle to mind + business. + </p> + <p> + Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in; she pinted gracefully to a + place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. My lady only looked up + for a moment, smiled very kindly, and down went her head among the papers + agen, as busy as a B. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Griffin has had letters from London,” says Miss, “from nasty lawyers + and people. Come here and sit by me, you naughty man you!” + </p> + <p> + And down sat master. “Willingly,” says he, “my dear Miss Griffin; why, I + declare, it is quits a tete-a-tete.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says Miss (after the prillimnary flumries, in coarse), “we met a + friend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace.” + </p> + <p> + “My father, doubtless; he is a great friend of the ambassador, and + surprised me myself by a visit the night before last.” + </p> + <p> + “What a dear delightful old man! how he loves you, Mr. Deuceace!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, amazingly!” says master, throwing his i's to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you!” + </p> + <p> + Master breathed more freely. “He is very good, my dear father; but blind, + as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached to me.” + </p> + <p> + “He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you were not + his eldest son. 'I can but leave him the small portion of a younger + brother,' he said; 'but never mind, he has talents, a noble name, and an + independence of his own.'” + </p> + <p> + “An independence? yes, oh yes; I am quite independent of my father.” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother; the very same you + told us you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Neither more nor less,” says master, bobbing his head; “a sufficiency, my + dear Miss Griffin,—to a man of my moderate habits an ample + provision.” + </p> + <p> + “By-the-by,” cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the conversation, “you + who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to the + aid of poor ME! Come, naughty boy, and help me out with this long long + sum.” + </p> + <p> + DIDN'T HE GO—that's all! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt across + the room, and seated himself by my lady! + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said she, “my agents write me over that they have received a + remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. a rupee. Do tell me what the sum + is, in pounds and shillings;” which master did with great gravity. + </p> + <p> + “Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good; I daresay you are right. I'm sure I + can't go through the fatigue to see. And now comes another question. Whose + money is this, mine or Matilda's? You see it is the interest of a sum in + India, which we have not had occasion to touch; and, according to the + terms of poor Sir George's will, I really don't know how to dispose of the + money except to spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Algernon, YOU tell me;” and she laid her hand on his and + looked him most pathetickly in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” says he, “I don't know how Sir George left his money; you must let + me see his will, first.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, willingly.” + </p> + <p> + Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns; he was + obliged to HOLD HIMSELF DOWN. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir George's own + manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not employ lawyers much, and this was + written on the night before going into action.” And she read, “'I, George + Griffin,' &c. &c.—you know how these things begin—'being + now of sane mind'—um, um, um,—'leave to my friends, Thomas + Abraham Hicks, a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, and to John + Monro Mackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, + at Calcutta), the whole of my property, to be realized as speedily as they + may (consistently with the interests of the property), in trust for my + wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only legitimate + child, Matilda Griffin. The interest resulting from such property to be + paid to them, share and share alike; the principal to remain untouched, in + the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. Mackirkincroft, until the + death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, when it shall be paid to my + daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors, or assigns.'” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said my lady, “we won't read any more; all the rest is stuff. But + now you know the whole business, tell us what is to be done with the + money?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided between you.” + </p> + <p> + “Tant mieux, say I; I really thought it had been all Matilda's.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been read. Master + left the desk at which he had been seated with her ladyship, paced up and + down the room for a while, and then came round to the place where Miss + Matilda was seated. At last he said, in a low, trembling voice,— + </p> + <p> + “I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have read that will to + me; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear, mercenary, when the + object of it is so greatly favored by worldly fortune. Miss Griffin—Matilda! + I know I may say the word; your dear eyes grant me the permission. I need + not tell you, or you, dear mother-in-law, how long, how fondly, I have + adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will not affect to say I + have not read your heart ere this, and that I have not known the + preference with which you have honored me. SPEAK IT, dear girl! from your + own sweet lips: in the presence of an affectionate parent, utter the + sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. Matilda, dearest Matilda! + say, oh say, that you love me!” + </p> + <p> + Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell on master's + neck, whispering hodibly, “I DO!” + </p> + <p> + My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth grinding, her i's + glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white; for all the world + like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of “Mydear” (when she's goin to mudder her + childring, you recklect); and out she flounced from the room, without a + word, knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near the dor, and + leaving my master along with his crook-back mistress. + </p> + <p> + I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, I got it + in a ruff copy; only on the copy it's wrote, “Lady Griffin, Leonora!” + instead of “Miss Griffin, Matilda,” as in the abuff, and so on. + </p> + <p> + Master had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thought: but his + adventors an't over yet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <h3> + THE GRIFFIN'S CLAWS. + </h3> + <p> + Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time: thanx to luck—the + crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the GOOLD NOBB, which was the + part Deuceace most valued, as well he should; being a connyshure as to the + relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much preferring virging goold + like this to poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin. + </p> + <p> + And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace now + snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas, had + never stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idleness, + extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all kinds (which an't + GENERALLY very favorable to a young man who has to make his way in the + world); in spite of all, there he was, I say, at the topp of the trea, the + fewcher master of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of a fool of a + wife. What can mortial man want more? Vishns of ambishn now occupied his + soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full; hunters at + Melton; a seat in the house of Commins: heaven knows what! and not a poar + footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, in cors, pennytrate + into the idears and the busms of men. + </p> + <p> + You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick now from + the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; and now, nite, + noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in they came, till my + pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried 'em out) was puffickly + intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, and other sense + with which they were impregniated. Here's the contense of three on 'em, + which I've kep in my dex these twenty years as skeewriosities. Faw! I can + smel 'em at this very minit, as I am copying them down. + </p> + <p> + BILLY DOO. No. I. + </p> + <p> + “Monday morning, 2 o'clock. + </p> + <p> + “'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber, and falls + upon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing these words to thee, + my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my soul's lord! when shall the time + come when the tedious night shall not separate us, nor the blessed day? + Twelve! one! two! I have heard the bells chime, and the quarters, and + never cease to think of my husband. My adored Percy, pardon the girlish + confession,—I have kissed the letter at this place. Will thy lips + press it too, and remain for a moment on the spot which has been equally + saluted by your + </p> + <p> + “MATILDA?” + </p> + <p> + This was the FUST letter, and was brot to our house by one of the poar + footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning. I thot it was for + life and death, and woak master at that extraornary hour, and gave it to + him. I shall never forgit him, when he red it; he cramped it up, and he + cust and swoar, applying to the lady who roat, the genlmn that brought it, + and me who introjuiced it to his notice such a collection of epitafs as I + seldum hered, excep at Billinxgit. The fact is thiss; for a fust letter, + miss's noat was RATHER too strong and sentymentle. But that was her way; + she was always reading melancholy stoary books—“Thaduse of Wawsaw,” + the “Sorrows of MacWhirter,” and such like. + </p> + <p> + After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them, but handid them + over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be answered, + in order to kip up appearuntses. The next letter is + </p> + <p> + No. II. + </p> + <p> + “BELOVED! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one! Lady Griffin, + since your avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your poor Matilda; + has declared that she will admit no one (heigho! not even you, my + Algernon); and has locked herself in her own dressing-room. I do believe + that she is JEALOUS, and fancies that you were in love with HER! Ha, ha! I + could have told her ANOTHER TALE—n'est-ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu! + A thousand thousand million kisses! + </p> + <p> + “M. G. + </p> + <p> + “Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + There was another letter kem before bedtime; for though me and master + called at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter at no price. Mortimer + and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to say we were going to be + relations; but I don't spose master was very sorry when he was obleached + to come back without seeing the fare objict of his affeckshns. + </p> + <p> + Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game; ditto on Wensday; only, when we + called there, who should we see but our father, Lord Crabs, who was + waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying HE SHOULD BE BACK TO DINNER + AT 7, just as me and master came up the stares. There was no admittns for + us though. “Bah! bah! never mind,” says my lord, taking his son + affeckshnately by the hand. “What, two strings to your bow; ay, Algernon? + The dowager a little jealous, miss a little lovesick. But my lady's fit of + anger will vanish, and I promise you, my boy, that you shall see your fair + one to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking at him as tender + and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as posbill. Master did not + know what to think of it. He never new what game his old father was at; + only he somehow felt that he had got his head in a net, in spite of his + suxess on Sunday. I knew it—I knew it quite well, as soon as I saw + the old genlmn igsammin him by a kind of smile which came over his old + face, and was somethink betwigst the angellic and the direbollicle. + </p> + <p> + But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every thing was bright + again. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath of witch I here + copy:— + </p> + <p> + No. IX. + </p> + <p> + “Thursday morning. + </p> + <p> + “Victoria, Victoria! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to our + union, but her consent to receive you as before; and has promised to + forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever think of you as anything + but the lover of your Matilda? I am in a whirl of delicious joy and + passionate excitement. I have been awake all this long night, thinking of + thee, my Algernon, and longing for the blissful hour of meeting. + </p> + <p> + “Come! M. G.” + </p> + <p> + This is the inclosier from my lady:— + </p> + <p> + “I will not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply shock me. + I had been foolish enough to think of other plans, and to fancy your heart + (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere than on one at whose foibles you have + often laughed with me, and whose person at least cannot have charmed you. + </p> + <p> + “My step-daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least going + through the ceremony of asking my consent; I cannot, as yet, give it. Have + I not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in trusting herself to + you? + </p> + <p> + “But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house all + those who may be agreeable to her,—certainly you, who are likely to + be one day so nearly connected with her. If I have honest reason to + believe that your love for Miss Griffin is sincere; if I find in a few + months that you yourself are still desirous to marry her, I can, of + course, place no further obstacles in your way. + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise to + receive you as I did of old; you would despise me if I did. I can promise, + however, to think no more of all that has passed between us, and yield up + my own happiness for that of the daughter of my dear husband. + </p> + <p> + “L. E. G.” + </p> + <p> + Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and natral from + a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated most scuvvily? Master + thought so, and went and made a tender, respeckful speach to Lady Griffin + (a little flumry costs nothink). Grave and sorroflle he kist her hand, + and, speakin in a very low adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witness how he + deplord that his conduct should ever have given rise to such an unfornt + ideer; but if he might offer her esteem, respect, the warmest and + tenderest admiration, he trusted she would accept the same, and a deal + moar flumry of the kind, with dark, sollum glansis of the eyes, and plenty + of white pockit-hankercher. + </p> + <p> + He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool! he was in a net—sich a net + as I never yet see set to ketch a roag in. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. + </h2> + <h3> + THE JEWEL. + </h3> + <p> + The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my last, + who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming it so very + strong, now came back to his old place by the side of Lady Griffin: there + was no love now, though, betwigst him and master, although the shevallier + had got his lady back agin; Deuceace being compleatly devoted to his + crookid Veanus. + </p> + <p> + The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt creature; and I + shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the heart to do + harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious tiger and + fire-eater as my master. But I see putty well, after a week, from his + manner of going on—of speakin at master, and lookin at him, and + olding his lips tight when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him + with his i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy. + </p> + <p> + Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him: hated him wuss + than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in-law. Praps + you phansy that the letter you have juss red was honest; praps you amadgin + that the sean of the reading of the will came on by mere chans, and in the + reglar cors of suckmstansies: it was all a GAME, I tell you—a reglar + trap; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, as neatly put his + foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve. + </p> + <p> + The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off the + feald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender than befor. + Por fellow, por fellow! he really loved this woman. He might as well have + foln in love with a bore-constructor! He was so blinded and beat by the + power wich she had got over him, that if she told him black was white he'd + beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'd do it: she wanted + something very like it, I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, master used + to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. The little creature + had a thowsnd of these; and being small, and a Frenchman, master, in cors, + looked on him with that good-humored kind of contemp which a good Brittn + ot always to show. He rayther treated him like an intelligent munky than a + man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean my lady's footman. + </p> + <p> + All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl betwigst + master and Lady Griffin; when that lady took care to turn the tables. + Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've heard the servants + say), she used to laff at shevalliay for his obeajance and sivillatty to + master. For her part, she wondered how a man of his birth could act a + servnt: how any man could submit to such contemsheous behavior from + another; and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at him + behind his back; how, in fact, he ought to hate him corjaly, and how it + was suttaly time to show his sperrit. + </p> + <p> + Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was angry + or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. There got to be + frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words flung at each other + across the dinner-table; dispewts about handing ladies their + smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge; or going in and out of a + roam fust, or any such nonsince. + </p> + <p> + “For hevn's sake,” I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these tiffs, + say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, “do, do be calm, Mr. + Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him. You are, both + of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family, that for its peace + as well as your own, you should forbear to quarrel.” + </p> + <p> + It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, and it + ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never forgit poar + little De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady said “both of you.” He stair'd at my + lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, going round to + master, shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr. Deuceace only + bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately; Miss heaved a loud O from + her busm, and looked up in his face with an igspreshn jest as if she could + have eat him up with love; and the little shevalliay sate down to his + soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest if he wasn't crying! He + thought the widdow had made her declyration, and would have him; and so + thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time mighty bitter and + contempshus, and then fell a-talking with Miss. + </p> + <p> + Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might have + done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her marrying + anybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this confision which + she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the French shevaleer. + </p> + <p> + And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, that + when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag: you find him out at onst when + he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his cloven foot the very + instnt you tread on it. At least, this is what YOUNG roags do; it requires + very cool blood and long practis to get over this pint, and not to show + your pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. Old Crabs + wouldn't do it; being like another noblemin, of whom I heard the Duke of + Wellington say, while waiting behind his graci's chair, that if you were + kicking him from behind, no one standing before him would know it, from + the bewtifle smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't got so far + in the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. And it's also + to be remarked (a very profownd observatin for a footmin, but we have i's + though we DO wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked, I say, that one of + these chaps is much sooner maid angry than another, because honest men + yield to other people, roags never do; honest men love other people, roags + only themselves; and the slightest thing which comes in the way of thir + beloved objects sets them fewrious. Master hadn't led a life of gambling, + swindling, and every kind of debotch to be good-tempered at the end of it, + I prommis you. + </p> + <p> + He was in a pashun, and when he WAS in a pashn, a more insalent, + insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. + </p> + <p> + This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him; for I must + tell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set master and + the shevalliay by the years, she had suxeaded only so far as to make them + hate each profowndly: but somehow or other, the 2 cox wouldn't FIGHT. + </p> + <p> + I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of her + ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls which daily + took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to come from her; + on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker between them, as I've + just shown in the tiff which took place at the door of the Sally Mangy. + Besides, the 2 young men, though reddy enough to snarl, were natrally + unwilling to come to bloes. I'll tell you why: being friends, and idle, + they spent their mornins as young fashnabbles genrally do, at billiads, + fensing, riding, pistle-shooting, or some such improoving study. In + billiads, master beat the Frenchman hollow (and had won a pretious sight + of money from him: but that's neither here nor there, or, as the French + say, ontry noo); at pistle-shooting, master could knock down eight + immidges out of ten, and De l'Orge seven; and in fensing, the Frenchman + could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry one of his weskit buttns. + They'd each of them been out more than onst, for every Frenchman will + fight, and master had been obleag'd to do so in the cors of his bisniss; + and knowing each other's curridg, as well as the fact that either could + put a hundrid bolls running into a hat at 30 yards, they wairnt very + willing to try such exparrymence upon their own hats with their own heads + in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only grould at each other. + </p> + <p> + But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers; and when in + this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said that he walked away + from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in his sudden bust of + joyfle good-humor; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, so + very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and hotty, and, taking + his seat at table, no moor mindid the brandishments of Miss Griffin, but + only replied to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us servnts, or abuse + of the soop, or the wine; cussing and swearing like a trooper, and not + like a well-bred son of a noble British peer. + </p> + <p> + “Will your ladyship,” says he, slivering off the wing of a pully ally + bashymall, “allow me to help you?” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge.” And towards that + gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile. + </p> + <p> + “Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de l'Orge's + carving. You used to like mine once.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will partake of + something a little simpler.” + </p> + <p> + The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy. A + great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandrewed down + his shert-collar and virging-white weskit. + </p> + <p> + “Confound you!” says he, “M. de l'Orge, you have done this on purpose.” + And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler of wine, a deal of + it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready to cry. + </p> + <p> + My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the best + joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. “Pardong,” says he; + “meal pardong, mong share munseer.” * And he looked as if he would have + done it again for a penny. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to + change the peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush. +</pre> + <p> + The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of a suddn + at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned against his + rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in English to + take a glass of wine. + </p> + <p> + “Veal you,” says he, in his jargin, “take a glas of Madere viz me, mi + ladi?” And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English manner and + pronunciation. + </p> + <p> + “With the greatest pleasure,” says Lady G., most graciously nodding at + him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused master + before, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer. + </p> + <p> + Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, making + himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; and my + lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing every think + to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came: and by this + time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy with + pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with smiles and + master bloo with rage. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Deuceace,” says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a little + chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), “may I trouble + you for a few of those grapes? they look delicious.” + </p> + <p> + For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it sliding down + the table to De l'Orge; upsetting, in his way, fruit-plates, glasses, + dickanters, and heaven knows what. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de l'Orge,” says he, shouting out at the top of his voice, “have + the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted MY grapes long ago, and has + found out they are sour!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + There was a dead paws of a moment or so. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + “Ah!” says my lady, “vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans ma propre + maison—c'est par trop fort, monsieur.” And up she got, and flung out + of the room. Miss followed her, screeching out, “Mamma—for God's + sake—Lady Griffin!” and here the door slammed on the pair. + </p> + <p> + Her ladyship did very well to speak French. DE L'ORGE WOULD NOT HAVE + UNDERSTOOD HER ELSE; as it was he heard quite enough; and as the door + clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence, + the family footmen, he walks round to my master, and hits him a slap on + the face, and says, “prends ca, menteur et lache!” which means, “Take + that, you liar and coward!”—rayther strong igspreshns for one genlmn + to use to another. + </p> + <p> + Master staggered back and looked bewildered; and then he gave a kind of a + scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then me and Mortimer + flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence embraced the shevalliay. + </p> + <p> + “A demain!” says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away, not very + sorry to git off. + </p> + <p> + When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master: who swallowed a + goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pullout his pus, he + presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. “I will + give you five more to-morrow,” says he, “if you will promise to keep this + secrit.” + </p> + <p> + And then he walked in to the ladies. “If you knew,” says he, going up to + Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at the keyhole), + “the pain I have endured in the last minute, in consequence of the + rudeness and insolence of which I have been guilty to your ladyship, you + would think my own remorse was punishment sufficient, and would grant me + pardon.” + </p> + <p> + My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. Deuceace was + her daughter's guest, and not hers; but she certainly would never demean + herself by sitting again at table with him. And so saying out she boltid + again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Algernon! Algernon!” says Miss, in teers, “what is this dreadful + mystery—these fearful shocking quarrels? Tell me, has anything + happened? Where, where is the chevalier?” + </p> + <p> + Master smiled and said, “Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. De l'Orge + did not understand a word of the dispute; he was too much in love for + that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe; and will return to + coffee.” + </p> + <p> + I knew what master's game was, for if miss had got a hinkling of the + quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her screeming + at the “Hotel Mirabeu,” and the juice and all to pay. He only stopt for a + few minnits and cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend, Captain + Bullseye, of the Rifles; with whom, I spose, he talked over this unplesnt + bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De l'Orge, saying where his + secknd was to be seen. + </p> + <p> + Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's Messinger, which + I hear beg leaf to transcribe:— + </p> + <p> + “FEARFUL DUEL.—Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took + place, in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D—ce-ce, a + younger son of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de l'O—-. The + chevalier was attended by Major de M—-, of the Royal Guard, and the + Hon. Mr. D—- by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far + as we have been able to learn the particulars of this deplorable affair, + the dispute originated in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most + brilliant ornaments of our embassy), and the duel took place on the + morning ensuing. + </p> + <p> + “The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateur + swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and the + combat took place with pistols. + </p> + <p> + “The combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to advance to + a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each was furnished with + two pistols. Monsieur de l'O—- fired almost immediately, and the + ball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, who dropped the + pistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directly with his + right, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A + ball has entered above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope that + he can recover. + </p> + <p> + “We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow which the + chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is some reason + for the unusual and determined manner in which the duel was fought. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Deu—a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, + the Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sad + news, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate parental + attention. The news only reached his lordship yesterday at noon, while at + breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The noble earl + fainted on receiving the intelligence; but in spite of the shock to his + own nerves and health, persisted in passing last night by the couch of his + son.” + </p> + <p> + And so he did. “This is a sad business, Charles,” says my lord to me, + after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. “Have you + any segars in the house? And hark ye, send me up a bottle of wine and some + luncheon. I can certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dear boy.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. + </h2> + <h3> + THE CONSQUINSIES. + </h3> + <p> + The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own accord, in + the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which was brot on by the + wound. He was kept in bed for 6 weeks though, and did not recover for a + long time after. + </p> + <p> + As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of his + advisary. Inflammation came on too; and, to make an ugly story short, they + were obliged to take off his hand at the rist. + </p> + <p> + He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was well, and + his wound heel'd; but I never see a man look so like a devvle as he used + sometimes, when he looked down at the stump! + </p> + <p> + To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd him the mor. She + sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her beloved, her + unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. I've kep some of the + noats, as I tell you, and curiously sentimentle they are, beating the + sorrows of MacWhirter all to nothing. + </p> + <p> + Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and seagars at + our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there was an exycution in his + own house in England; and his son was a sure find (as they say) during his + illness, and couldn't deny himself to the old genlmn. His eveninx my lord + spent reglar at Lady Griffin's; where, as master was ill, I didn't go any + more now, and where the shevalier wasn't there to disturb him. + </p> + <p> + “You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace,” says my lord, one day, in a + fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady Griffin: “SHE HAS + NOT DONE WITH YOU YET, I tell you fairly.” + </p> + <p> + “Curse her,” says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm—“curse + her! but I will be even with her one day. I am sure of Matilda: I took + care to put that beyond the reach of a failure. The girl must marry me, + for her own sake.” + </p> + <p> + “FOR HER OWN SAKE! O ho! Good, good!” My lord lifted his i's, and said + gravely, “I understand, my dear boy: it is an excellent plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his exlent old + father, “as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from the fiend of a + step-mother?” + </p> + <p> + My lord only gev a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up his hat, + walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Vandome, and go in quite + calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless his old face! such + a puffickly good-natured, kind-hearted, merry, selfish old scoundrel, I + never shall see again. + </p> + <p> + His lordship was quite right in saying to master that “Lady Griffin hadn't + done with him.” No moar she had. But she never would have thought of the + nex game she was going to play, IF SOMEBODY HADN'T PUT HER UP TO IT. Who + did? If you red the above passidge, and saw how a venrabble old genlmn + took his hat, and sauntered down the Plas Vandome (looking hard and kind + at all the nussary-maids—buns they call them in France—in the + way), I leave you to guess who was the author of the nex scheam: a woman, + suttnly, never would have pitcht on it. + </p> + <p> + In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuceace's adventers, and + his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkins and Blewitt, I had the honor of + laying before the public a skidewl of my master's detts, in witch was the + following itim: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s, 4963L. 0s. 0d.” + </pre> + <p> + The I.O.U.se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills amountid to + four thowsnd moar. + </p> + <p> + Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in England, and a + French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew the Englishman who has + drawn them, even though he should be in France. Master did not know this + fact—laboring under a very common mistak, that, when onst out of + England, he might wissle at all the debts he left behind him. + </p> + <p> + My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who made + arrangemints with the persons who possest the fine collection of ortografs + on stampt paper which master had left behind him; and they were glad enuff + to take any oppertunity of getting back their money. + </p> + <p> + One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard of our hotel, + talking to the servant-gals, as was my reglar custom, in order to improve + myself in the French languidge, one of them comes up to me and says, + “Tenez, Monsieur Charles, down below in the office there is a bailiff, + with a couple of gendarmes, who is asking for your master—a-t-il des + dettes par hasard?” + </p> + <p> + I was struck all of a heap—the truth flasht on my mind's hi. + “Toinette,” says I, for that was the gal's name—“Toinette,” says I, + giving her a kiss, “keep them for two minits, as you valyou my affeckshn;” + and then I gave her another kiss, and ran up stares to our chambers. + Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound, and was aloud to drive + abowt: it was lucky for him that he had the strength to move. “Sir, sir,” + says I, “the bailiffs are after you, and you must run for your life.” + </p> + <p> + “Bailiff?” says he: “nonsense! I don't, thank heaven, owe a shilling to + any man.” + </p> + <p> + “Stuff, sir,” says I, forgetting my respeck; “don't you owe money in + England? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will be on you in a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the antyshamber, and + there they were sure enough! + </p> + <p> + What was to be done? Quick as litening, I throws off my livry coat, claps + my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put on my livry. Then I + wraps myself up in his dressing-gown, and lolling down on the sofa, bids + him open the dor. + </p> + <p> + There they were—the bailiff—two jondarms with him—Toinette, + and an old waiter. When Toinette sees master, she smiles, and says: “Dis + donc, Charles! ou est donc ton maitre? Chez lui, n'est-ce pas? C'est le + jeune a monsieur,” says she, curtsying to the bailiff. + </p> + <p> + The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, “Mais ce n'est pas!” when + Toinette stops him, and says, “Laissez donc passer ces messieurs, vieux + bete;” and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking their post in the hall. + </p> + <p> + Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and touching MY hat says, + “Have you any orders about the cab, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, Chawls,” says I; “I shan't drive out to-day.” + </p> + <p> + The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having had plenty of + English customers), and says in French, as master goes out, “I think, sir, + you had better let your servant get a coach, for I am under the painful + necessity of arresting you, au nom de la loi, for the sum of ninety-eight + thousand seven hundred francs, owed by you to the Sieur Jacques Francois + Lebrun, of Paris;” and he pulls out a number of bills, with master's + acceptances on them sure enough. + </p> + <p> + “Take a chair, sir,” says I; and down he sits; and I began to chaff him, + as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, my sad axdent, having + lost one of my hands, which was stuck into my busum, and so on. + </p> + <p> + At last, after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and bust out in + a horse laff. + </p> + <p> + The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect somethink. “Hola!” + says he; “gendarmes! a moi! a moi! Je suis floue, vole,” which means, in + English, that he was reglar sold. + </p> + <p> + The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and the waiter. + Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand from my dressing-gownd, + and, flinging it open, stuck up on the chair one of the neatest legs ever + seen. + </p> + <p> + I then pinted majestickly—to what do you think?—to my PLUSH + TITES! those sellabrated inigspressables which have rendered me famous in + Yourope. + </p> + <p> + Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts rord out laffing; and so + did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old Grippard the bailiff + looked as if he would faint in his chare. + </p> + <p> + I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel-gate, and knew then that + my master was safe. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. + </h2> + <h3> + THE END OF MR. DEUCEACE'S HISTORY. LIMBO. + </h3> + <p> + My tail is droring rabidly to a close; my suvvice with Mr. Deuceace didn't + continyou very long after the last chapter, in which I described my + admiral strattyjam, and my singlar self-devocean. There's very few + servnts, I can tell you, who'd have thought of such a contrivance, and + very few moar would have eggsycuted it when thought of. + </p> + <p> + But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in selling + master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may remember I woar, and + in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets,—beyond this, I + say, there was to poar master very little advantich in what had been done. + It's true he had escaped. Very good. But Frans is not like Great Brittin; + a man in a livry coat, with 1 arm, is pretty easily known, and caught, + too, as I can tell you. + </p> + <p> + Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moarover, if he + would. What was to become, in that case, of his bride—his unchbacked + hairis? He knew that young lady's temprimong (as the Parishers say) too + well to let her long out of his site. She had nine thousand a yer. She'd + been in love a duzn times befor, and mite be agin. The Honrabble Algernon + Deuceace was a little too wide awake to trust much to the constnsy of so + very inflammable a young creacher. Heavn bless us, it was a marycle she + wasn't earlier married! I do bleave (from suttn seans that past betwigst + us) that she'd have married me, if she hadn't been sejuiced by the + supearor rank and indianuity of the genlmn in whose survace I was. + </p> + <p> + Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. How was he to + manitch? He coodn get away from his debts, and he wooden quit the fare + objict of his affeckshns. He was ableejd, then, as the French say, to lie + perdew,—going out at night, like a howl out of a hivy-bush, and + returning in the daytime to his roast. For its a maxum in France (and I + wood it were followed in Ingland), that after dark no man is lible for his + detts; and in any of the royal gardens—the Twillaries, the Pally + Roil, or the Lucksimbug, for example—a man may wander from sunrise + to evening, and hear nothing of the ojus dunns: they an't admitted into + these places of public enjyment and rondyvoo any more than dogs; the + centuries at the garden-gates having orders to shuit all such. + </p> + <p> + Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation—neither liking to go + nor to stay! peeping out at nights to have an interview with his miss; + ableagd to shuffle off her repeated questions as to the reason of all this + disgeise, and to talk of his two thowsnd a year jest as if he had it and + didn't owe a shilling in the world. + </p> + <p> + Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch. + </p> + <p> + He roat as many noats as she had done befor; swoar against delay and + cerymony; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, the ardship that the ardor of + two arts should be allowed to igspire, the folly of waiting for the + consent of Lady Griffin. She was but a step-mother, and an unkind one. + Miss was (he said) a major, might marry whom she liked; and suttnly had + paid Lady G. quite as much attention as she ought, by paying her the + compliment to ask her at all. + </p> + <p> + And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when master was pressed + about his cause for not coming out till night-time, he was misterus; and + Miss Griffin, when asked why she wooden marry, igsprest, or rather, DIDN'T + igspress, a simlar secrasy. Wasn't it hard? the cup seemed to be at the + lip of both of 'em, and yet somehow, they could not manitch to take a + drink. + </p> + <p> + But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote by my master + over night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer from his soal's beluffd, + which ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + </p> + <p> + “DEAREST,—You say you would share a cottage with me; there is no + need, luckily, for that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits at our + delayed union. Beloved, do you think MY heart rejoices at our separation? + You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady Griffin, and tell me that I owe + her no further duty. + </p> + <p> + “Adored Algernon! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to lose a + single chance of reconciliation with this unnatural step-mother. Respect + for the memory of my sainted father bid me do all in my power to gain her + consent to my union with you: nay, shall I own it? prudence dictated the + measure; for to whom should she leave the share of money accorded to her + by my father's will but to my father's child. + </p> + <p> + “But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go; and, thank + heaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid wealth: we + have a competency without her. Is it not so, dearest Algernon? + </p> + <p> + “Be it as you wish, then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor Matilda + has yielded to you her heart long ago; she has no longer need to keep back + her name. Name the hour, and I will delay no more; but seek for refuge in + your arms from the contumely and insult which meet me ever here. + </p> + <p> + “MATILDA. + </p> + <p> + “P.S. Oh, Algernon! if you did but know what a noble part your dear father + has acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to further our plans, + and to soften Lady Griffin! It is not his fault that she is inexorable as + she is. I send you a note sent by her to Lord Crabs; we will laugh at it + soon, n'est-ce pas?” + </p> + <p> + II. + </p> + <p> + “MY LORD,—In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in favor + of your son, Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat what I before have + been under the necessity of stating to you,—that I do not believe a + union with a person of Mr. Deuceace's character would conduce to my + stepdaughter's happiness, and therefore REFUSE MY CONSENT. I will beg you + to communicate the contents of this note to Mr. Deuceace; and implore you + no more to touch upon a subject which you must be aware is deeply painful + to me. + </p> + <p> + “I remain your lordship's most humble servant, + </p> + <p> + “L. E. GRIFFIN. “THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS.” + </p> + <p> + “Hang her ladyship!” says my master, “what care I for it?” As for the old + lord who'd been so afishous in his kindness and advice, master recknsiled + that pretty well, with thinking that his lordship knew he was going to + marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to get some share of it; for he + roat back the following letter to his father, as well as a flaming one to + Miss: + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awkward business. + You know how painfully I am situated just now, and can pretty well guess + BOTH THE CAUSES of my disquiet. A marriage with my beloved Matilda will + make me the happiest of men. The dear girl consents, and laughs at the + foolish pretensions of her mother-in-law. To tell you the truth, I wonder + she yielded to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, and find + for us a parson, a license, and make us two into one. We are both major, + you know; so that the ceremony of a guardian's consent is unnecessary. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate + </p> + <p> + “ALGERNON DEUCEACE. + </p> + <p> + “How I regret that difference between us some time back! Matters are + changed now, and shall be more still AFTER THE MARRIAGE.” + </p> + <p> + I knew what my master meant,—that he would give the old lord the + money after he was married; and as it was probble that miss would see the + letter he roat, he made it such as not to let her see two clearly into his + present uncomfrable situation. + </p> + <p> + I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, reading both of + 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, gave an inegspressable + look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, and prest it to her busm. + Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then they fell a-talking together; and + told me to wait awhile, and I should git an anser. + </p> + <p> + After a deal of counseltation, my lord brought out a card, and there was + simply written on it, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + To-morrow, at the Ambassador's, at Twelve. +</pre> + <p> + “Carry that back to your master, Chawls,” says he, “and bid him not to + fail.” + </p> + <p> + You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave him the card + and the messinge. Master looked sattasfied with both; but suttnly not over + happy; no man is the day before his marridge; much more his marridge with + a hump-back, Harriss though she be. + </p> + <p> + Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did what every + man in such suckmstances ought to do; he made his will,—that is, he + made a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to his creditors + telling them of his lucky chance; and that after his marridge he would + sutnly pay them every stiver. BEFORE, they must know his povvaty well + enough to be sure that paymint was out of the question. + </p> + <p> + To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing that was right, + now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenients to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Chawls,” says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, “here's your wagis, and + thank you for getting me out of the scrape with the bailiffs: when you are + married, you shall be my valet out of liv'ry, and I'll treble your + salary.” + </p> + <p> + His vallit! praps his butler! Yes, thought I, here's a chance—a + vallit to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave him, and read + his notes, and let my whiskers grow; to dress in spick and span black, and + a clean shut per day; muffings every night in the housekeeper's room; the + pick of the gals in the servants' hall; a chap to clean my boots for me, + and my master's opera bone reglar once a week. I knew what a vallit was as + well as any genlmn in service; and this I can tell you, he's genrally a + hapier, idler, handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his master. He has more + money to spend, for genlmn WILL leave their silver in their waistcoat + pockets; more suxess among the gals; as good dinners, and as good wine—that + is, if he's friends with the butler: and friends in corse they will be if + they know which way their interest lies. + </p> + <p> + But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call shutter + d'Espang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr. + Deuceace's vallit. + </p> + <p> + Days will pass at last—even days befor a wedding, (the longist and + unpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you, excep, may + be, the day before his hanging); and at length Aroarer dawned on the + suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds of Hyming the Honrable + Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss Matilda Griffin. My master's + wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had been; for he'd left the whole of his + nicknax and trumpry of dressing-cases and rob dy shams, his bewtifle + museum of varnished boots, his curous colleckshn of Stulz and Staub coats, + when he had been ableaged to quit so suddnly our pore dear lodginx at the + Hotel Mirabew; and being incog at a friend's house, ad contentid himself + with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a common tailor, with a + suffishnt quantaty of linning. + </p> + <p> + Well, he put on the best of his coats—a blue; and I thought it my + duty to ask him whether he'd want his frock again: he was good natured and + said, “Take it and be hanged to you.” Half-past eleven o'clock came, and I + was sent to look out at the door, if there were any suspicious charicters + (a precious good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I can tell you, and an + i which will almost see one round a corner); and presenly a very modest + green glass coach droave up, and in master stept. I didn't in corse, + appear on the box; because, being known, my appearints might have + compromised master. But I took a short cut, and walked as quick as posbil + down to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, where his exlnsy the English + ambasdor lives, and where marridges are always performed betwigst English + folk at Paris. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, of that + lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine-houses; and jest as + master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach drove off, out of + which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well,—suffiz, that one had + a humpback, and the ingenious reader will know why SHE came there; the + other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. + </p> + <p> + Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards of + the door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gits coachmin to + open the door, and comes I to give Mr. Deuceace an arm, when out of the + cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up betwigst the coach and + embassy-doar; two other chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, + opening it, one says—“Rendez-vous, M. Deuceace! Je vous arrete au + nom de la loi!” (which means, “Get out of that, Mr. D.; you are nabbed and + no mistake.”) Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side of + the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and was + for making off that way; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigst + libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, + “Fouettez, cocher!” (which means, “Go it, coachmm!”) in a despert loud + voice; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. + </p> + <p> + The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the door + two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all; I knew my duty, and + so very mornfly I got up behind. + </p> + <p> + “Tiens,” says one of the chaps in the street; “c'est ce drole qui nous a + floure l'autre jour.” I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to smile. + </p> + <p> + “Ou irons-nous donc?” says coachmin to the genlmn who had got inside. + </p> + <p> + A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the coachmin, “A + SAINTE PELAGIE!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the prizn of Sainte + Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or Queen's Bentch: but on this + subject I'm rather shy of writing, partly because the admiral Boz has, in + the history of Mr. Pickwick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, that mine + wooden read very amyousingly afterwids; and, also, because, to tell you + the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer to waist my + igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such a dull place. + </p> + <p> + My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat from master to + his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken aback, as I can tell + you, when she found, after remaining two hours at the Embassy, that her + husband didn't make his appearance. And so, after staying on and on, and + yet seeing no husband, she was forsed at last to trudge dishconslit home, + where I was already waiting for her with a letter from my master. + </p> + <p> + There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he confest it + at onst: but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery of a friend, + infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. However, it didn't matter much; + if he had told her that he had been betrayed by the man in the moon, she + would have bleavd him. + </p> + <p> + Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She kep one + drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another; they quarld so + much that praps it was best they should live apart; only my Lord Crabs + used to see both, comforting each with that winning and innsnt way he had. + He came in as Miss, in tears, was lisning to my account of master's + seazure, and hoping that the prisn wasn't a horrid place, with a nasty + horrid dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, and nasty horrid bread and water. + Law bless us! she had borrod her ideers from the novvles she had been + reading! + </p> + <p> + “O my lord, my lord,” says she, “have you heard this fatal story?” + </p> + <p> + “Dearest Matilda, what? For heaven's sake, you alarm me! What—yes—no—is + it—no, it can't be! Speak!” says my lord, seizing me by the choler + of my coat. “What has happened to my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “Please you, my lord,” says I, “he's at this moment in prisn, no wuss,—having + been incarserated about two hours ago.” + </p> + <p> + “In prison! Algernon in prison! 'tis impossible! Imprisoned, for what sum? + Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing in my power.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure your lordship is very kind,” says I (recklecting the sean + betwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a thowsand lb.); + “and you'll be happy to hear he's only in for a trifle. Five thousand + pound is, I think, pretty near the mark.” + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand pounds!—confusion!” says my lord, clasping his hands, + and looking up to heaven, “and I have not five hundred! Dearest Matilda, + how shall we help him?” + </p> + <p> + “Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know how Lady Griffin + has the—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say; but be of good cheer—Algernon, + you know, has ample funds of his own.” + </p> + <p> + Thinking my lord meant Dawkins's five thousand, of which, to be sure, a + good lump was left, I held my tung; but I cooden help wondering at Lord + Crabs's igstream compashn for his son, and Miss, with her 10,000L. a year, + having only 3 guineas is her pockit. + </p> + <p> + I took home (bless us, what a home!) a long and very inflamble letter from + Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the disappointment; swoar + she lov'd him only the moar for his misfortns; made light of them; as a + pusson for a paltry sum of five thousand pound ought never to be cast + down, 'specially as he had a certain independence in view; and vowed that + nothing, nothing, should ever injuice her to part from him, etsettler, + etsettler. + </p> + <p> + I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst me and my lord, + and of his handsome offers, and his horrow at hearing of his son's being + taken; and likewise mentioned how strange it was that Miss should only + have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn: bless us, I should have thot that + she would always have carried a hundred thowsnd lb. in her pockit! + </p> + <p> + At this master only said Pshaw! But the rest of the story about his father + seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me repeat it over agin. + </p> + <p> + He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new lite + was breaking in upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Chawls,” says he, “did you observe—did Miss—did my father + seem PARTICULARLY INTIMATE with Miss Griffin?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean, sir?” says I. + </p> + <p> + “Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin?” + </p> + <p> + “He was suttnly very kind to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir, speak at once: did Miss Griffin seem very fond of his + lordship?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed VERY fond of him.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he call her?” + </p> + <p> + “He called her his dearest gal.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he take her hand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and he—” + </p> + <p> + “And he what?” + </p> + <p> + “He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about the + misfortn which had hapnd to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I have it now!” says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashly pail—“I + have it now—the infernal old hoary scoundrel! the wicked, unnatural + wretch! He would take her from me!” And he poured out a volley of oaves + which are impossbill to be repeatid here. + </p> + <p> + I thot as much long ago: and when my lord kem with his vizits so pretious + affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such game was in the + wind. Indeed, I'd heard a somethink of it from the Griffinses servnts, + that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. + </p> + <p> + One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal capassaties; + he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very small chance of + having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, or his respectid father + might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. Oh! he saw it all now—the + fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixt at 12 o'clock, and the bayliffs + fixt to come and intarup the marridge!—the jewel, praps, betwigst + him and De l'Orge: but no, it was the WOMAN who did that—a MAN don't + deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son: a woman may, poar + thing!—she's no other means of reventch, and is used to fight with + underhand wepns all her life through. + </p> + <p> + Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear that he'd + been beat by his father at his own game—a trapp set for him onst, + which had been defitted by my presnts of mind—another trap set + afterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as he + was, was much too good-natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly for the sake + of doing it. He'd got to that pich that he didn't mind injaries—they + were all fair play to him—he gave 'em, and reseav'd them, without a + thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it was to benefick + himself. And how was this to be done? By getting the hairiss to himself, + to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so; but I knew his feelinx + well enough—he regretted that he had not given the old genlmn the + money he askt for. + </p> + <p> + Poar fello! he thought he had hit it; but he was wide of the mark after + all. + </p> + <p> + Well, but what was to be done? It was clear that he must marry the gal at + any rate—cootky coot, as the French say: that is, marry her, and + hang the igspence. + </p> + <p> + To do so he must first git out of prisn—to get out of prisn he must + pay his debts—and to pay his debts, he must give every shilling he + was worth. Never mind: four thousand pound is a small stake to a reglar + gambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot for life in prisn; and + when, if he plays it well, it will give him ten thousand a year. + </p> + <p> + So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, and accordingly + wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin:— + </p> + <p> + “MY ADORED MATILDA,—Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor + fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed in + his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it within a prison + wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has brought these liabilities + upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me so much. But what + matters! We have, as you say, enough, even though I must pay this shameful + demand upon me; and five thousand pounds are as nothing, compared to the + happiness which I lose in being separated a night from thee! Courage, + however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you; and I were heartless indeed + if I allowed my own losses to balance for a moment against your happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Is it not so, beloved one? IS not your happiness bound up with mine, in a + union with me? I am proud to think so—proud, too, to offer such a + humble proof as this of the depth and purity of my affection. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me that you will still be mine; tell me that you will be mine + tomorrow; and to-morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I will be + free once more—or if bound, only bound to you! My adorable Matilda! + my betrothed bride! Write to me ere the evening closes, for I shall never + be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon my prison couch, until they have + been first blessed by the sight of a few words from thee! Write to me, + love! write to me! I languish for the reply which is to make or mar me for + ever. Your affectionate + </p> + <p> + “A. P. D.” + </p> + <p> + Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to carry, and + bade me at the same time to try and give it into Miss Griffin's hand + alone. I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I found Miss, as I desired, in a + sollatary condition; and I presented her with master's pafewmed Billy. + </p> + <p> + She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and the tears + which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed until I thought + she would bust. She even claspt my hand in her's, and said, “O Charles! is + he very, very miserable?” + </p> + <p> + “He is, ma'am,” says I; “very miserable indeed—nobody, upon my + honor, could be miserablerer.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at onst: and sitting + down to her eskrewtaw, she immediantly ableaged master with an answer. + Here it is in black and white: + </p> + <p> + “My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in these + arms! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the same place, at + the same hour. Then, then, it will be impossible for aught but death to + divide us. + </p> + <p> + “M. G.” + </p> + <p> + This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles, and + cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better is it to be + puffickly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to the writing of + the heart. This is MY style: artyfiz I despise, and trust compleatly to + natur: but revnong a no mootong, as our continential friends remark: to + that nice white sheep, Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire; that wenrabble + old ram, my Lord Crabs his father; and that tender and dellygit young + lamb, Miss Matilda Griffin. + </p> + <p> + She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the noat + transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, according to my + master's orders, “Miss, if you please, the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace would be + very much ableaged to you to keep the seminary which is to take place + to-morrow a profound se—,” when my master's father entered, and I + fell back to the door. Miss, without a word, rusht into his arms, burst + into teers agin, as was her reglar way (it must be confest she was of a + very mist constitution), and showing to him his son's note, cried, “Look, + my dear lord, how nobly your Algernon, OUR Algernon, writes to me. Who can + doubt, after this, of the purity of his matchless affection?” + </p> + <p> + My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused, and + returning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, “My dear Miss + Griffin, he certainly does seem in earnest; and if you choose to make this + match without the consent of your mother-in-law, you know the consequence, + and are of course your own mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “Consequences!—for shame, my lord! A little money, more or less, + what matters it to two hearts like ours?” + </p> + <p> + “Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but Three-per-Cents + are better.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the aid of Lady + Griffin?” + </p> + <p> + My lord shrugged his shoulders. “Be it so, my love,” says he. “I'm sure I + can have no other reason to prevent a union which is founded upon such + disinterested affection.” + </p> + <p> + And here the conversation dropt. Miss retired, clasping her hands, and + making play with the whites of her i's. My lord began trotting up and down + the room, with his fat hands stuck in his britchis pockits, his countnince + lighted up with igstream joy, and singing, to my inordnit igstonishment: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “See the conquering hero comes! + Tiddy diddy doll—tiddy doll, doll, doll.” + </pre> + <p> + He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like mad. I + stood amazd—a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't going, then, to + make love to Miss Griffin! Master might marry her! Had she not got the for—? + </p> + <p> + I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands + puppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughts passing + in my mind, when my lord having got to the last “doll” of his song, just + as I came to the sillible “for” of my ventriloquism, or inward speech—we + had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, when the meditations of both + were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of his singin and trottin + match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me up aginst one end of the + room, himself flying back to the other: and it was only after considrabble + agitation that we were at length restored to anything like a liquilibrium. + </p> + <p> + “What, YOU here, you infernal rascal?” says my lord. + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship's very kind to notus me,” says I; “I am here.” And I gave + him a look. + </p> + <p> + He saw I knew the whole game. + </p> + <p> + And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave he'd + have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in five minits), + after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up to me, says: + </p> + <p> + “Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Must it, sir?” says I; “now, for my part, I don't think—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you gain?” + </p> + <p> + This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situation, for + master had but just enough money to pay his detts; and it wooden soot my + book to serve him in prisn or starving. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says my lord, “you see the force of my argument. Now, look here!” + and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! “If my son + and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this; and I will, + moreover, take you into my service, and give you double your present + wages.” + </p> + <p> + Flesh and blood cooden bear it. “My lord,” says I, laying my hand upon my + busm, “only give me security, and I'm yours for ever.” + </p> + <p> + The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. “Right, my lad,” + says he, “right—you're a nice promising youth. Here is the best + security.” And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the hundred-pun bill, + and takes out one for fifty. “Here is half to-day; to-morrow you shall + have the remainder.” + </p> + <p> + My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit of paper, + about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had in my life. I + cast my i upon the amount: it was a fifty sure enough—a bank + poss-bill, made payable to Leonora Emilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. + The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to see + the game. + </p> + <p> + “Recollect, from this day you are in my service.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, you overpoar me with your faviors.” + </p> + <p> + “Go to the devil, sir,” says he: “do your duty, and hold your tongue.” + </p> + <p> + And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon Deuceace to + that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus place to + which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him; and felt for him, I must + say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he—a swindler, who + had robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance; who had cheated his + fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridge + with a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn on + my purt; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckmstansies of my + privit intervew with his exlnsy my presnt master. + </p> + <p> + I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satasfied air. + Then, turning to me, says he: “You gave this to Miss Griffin alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “You gave her my message?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave either the + message or the note?” + </p> + <p> + “Not there upon my honor,” says I. + </p> + <p> + “Hang your honor, sir! Brush my hat and coat, and go CALL A COACH—do + you hear?” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + I did as I was ordered; and on coming back found master in what's called, + I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in waiting had out a great + register, and was talking to master in the French tongue, in coarse; a + number of poar prisners were looking eagerly on. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see, my lor,” says he; “the debt is 98,700 francs; there are + capture expenses, interest so much; and the whole sum amounts to a hundred + thousand francs, moins 13.” + </p> + <p> + Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocketbook four thowsnd + pun notes. “This is not French money, but I presume that you know it, M. + Greffier,” says he. + </p> + <p> + The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, who had one or + two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to be there. “Les billets sont + bons,” says he. “Je les prendrai pour cent mille douze cent francs, et + j'espere, my lor, de vous revoir.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” says the greffier; “I know them to be good, and I will give my lor + the difference, and make out his release.” + </p> + <p> + Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the great dubble + iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace stept out and me + after him, to breathe the fresh hair. + </p> + <p> + He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free again—free, + and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day. But, for all that, he + lookt very faint and pale. He HAD put down his great stake; and when he + came out of Sainte Pelagie, he had but fifty pounds left in the world! + </p> + <p> + Never mind—when onst the money's down, make your mind easy; and so + Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew, where he ordered + apartmince infinately more splendid than befor; and I pretty soon told + Toinette, and the rest of the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, and how he + valyoud four thousnd pound no more than ditch water. And such was the + consquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, that the + delighted landlady immediantly charged him dubble what she would have + done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. + </p> + <p> + He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week; a + carridge-and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely; and having + settled all these things, went quietly to the “Roshy de Cancale,” where he + dined: as well he might, for it was now eight o'clock. I didn't spare the + shompang neither that night, I can tell you; for when I carried the note + he gave me for Miss Griffin in the evening, informing her of his freedom, + that young lady remarked my hagitated manner of walking and speaking, and + said, “Honest Charles! he is flusht with the events of the day. Here, + Charles, is a napoleon; take it and drink to your mistress.” + </p> + <p> + I pockitid it; but, I must say, I didn't like the money—it went + against my stomick to take it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. + </h2> + <h3> + THE MARRIAGE. + </h3> + <p> + Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was waiting at the + ambasdor's doar; and Miss Griffin and the faithfle Kicksey were punctial + to the apintment. + </p> + <p> + I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary—how the embasy + chapling jined the hands of this loving young couple—how one of the + embasy footmin was called in to witness the marridge—how Miss wep + and fainted as usial—and how Deuceace carried her, fainting, to the + brisky, and drove off to Fontingblo, where they were to pass the fust weak + of the honey-moon. They took no servnts, because they wisht, they said, to + be privit. And so, when I had shut up the steps, and bid the postilion + drive on, I bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and went off strait to his + exlent father. + </p> + <p> + “Is it all over, Chawls?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I saw them turned off at igsactly a quarter past 12, my lord,” says I. + </p> + <p> + “Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before her marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bobtail's man; who can + swear to her having had it.” + </p> + <p> + I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper which Lady Griffin + had written, and which I was comishnd to give in the manner menshnd abuff. + It ran to this effect:— + </p> + <p> + “According to the authority given me by the will of my late dear husband, + I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honorable Algernon Percy + Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union, I warn her that she must + abide by the consequences of her act. + </p> + <p> + “LEONORA EMILIA GRIFFIN.” + </p> + <p> + “RUE DE RIVOLI, May 8, 1818.” + </p> + <p> + When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit before my + master's arrivle, she only read it contemptiously, and said, “I laugh at + the threats of Lady Griffin;” and she toar the paper in two, and walked + on, leaning on the arm of the faithful and obleaging Miss Kicksey. + </p> + <p> + I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my lord. Not + that there was any necessaty; for he'd kep a copy, and made me and another + witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) read them both, before he sent + either away. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” says he; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of that + bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. “I keep my promise, + you see, Charles,” says he. “You are now in Lady Griffin's service, in the + place of Mr. Fitzclarence, who retires. Go to Froje's, and get a livery.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my lord,” says I, “I was not to go into Lady Griffnses service, + according to the bargain, but into—” + </p> + <p> + “It's all the same thing,” says he; and he walked off. I went to Mr. + Froje's, and ordered a new livry; and found, likwise, that our coachmin + and Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My lady's livery was changed, and + was now of the same color as my old coat at Mr. Deuceace's; and I'm blest + if there wasn't a tremenjious great earl's corronit on the butins, instid + of the Griffin rampint, which was worn befoar. + </p> + <p> + I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured; and slep that + night at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with the carridge for a day or + two, though; my lady only taking one footmin, she said, until HER NEW + CARRIDGE was turned out. + </p> + <p> + I think you can guess what's in the wind NOW! + </p> + <p> + I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzen lawn sherts + and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary for a genlmn in my + rank. Silk stockings was provided by the rules of the house. And I + completed the bisniss by writing the follying ginteel letter to my late + master:— + </p> + <p> + “CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE A. P. DEUCEACE. + </p> + <p> + “SUR,—Suckmstansies have acurd sins I last had the honner of wating + on you, which render it impossbil that I should remane any longer in your + suvvice. I'll thank you to leave out my thinx, when they come home on + Sattady from the wash. + </p> + <p> + “Your obeajnt servnt, + </p> + <p> + “CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH.” “PLAS VENDOME.” + </p> + <p> + The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious; but ke voolyvoo? + I was only eighteen, and hadn then the expearance in writing which I've + enjide sins. + </p> + <p> + Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in the nex + chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. + </h2> + <h3> + THE HONEY-MOON. + </h3> + <p> + The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away; and at the end of it, our son + and daughter-in-law—a pare of nice young tuttle-duvs—returned + to their nest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I suspeck that the COCK turtle-dove + was preshos sick of his barging. + </p> + <p> + When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table was a large + parsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a couple of cards, + tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the parsle was a hansume piece + of plum-cake, with a deal of sugar. On the cards was wrote, in Goffick + characters, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Earl of Crabs. +</pre> + <p> + And, in very small Italian, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Countess of Crabs. +</pre> + <p> + And in the paper was the following parrowgraff:— + </p> + <p> + “MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.—Yesterday, at the British embassy, the Right + Honorable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl of Crabs, to Leonora + Emilia, widow of the late Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. B. + An elegant dejeune was given to the happy couple by his Excellency Lord + Bobtail, who gave away the bride. The elite of the foreign diplomacy, the + Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia on behalf of H. M. the + King of France, honored the banquet and the marriage ceremony. Lord and + Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at Saint Cloud.” + </p> + <p> + The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of which I have + also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace on their arrivle from + Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what Deuceace said; but I can + fancy how he LOOKT, and how poor Mrs. Deuceace lookt. They weren't much + inclined to rest after the fiteeg of the junny; for, in 1/2 an hour after + their arrival at Paris, the hosses were put to the carridge agen, and down + they came thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud (pronounst by those + absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chaste loves and delishs + marridge injyments. + </p> + <p> + My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on a sofa at + an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle; her ladyship, who, to du her + justice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end of the room, and was + working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an umbrellore case, or a + coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would have thought to have sean + 'em that they had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon + this conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, “My lord, here's + your son and daughter-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” says my lord, quite calm, “and what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Deuceace!” says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my love, my son; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, say + that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace; and + that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. Sit still, my blessing—take + things coolly. Have you got the box with the papers?” + </p> + <p> + My lady pointed to a great green box—the same from which she had + taken the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them,—and handed over to my + lord a fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, + gave my messinge, and bowed them palitely in. + </p> + <p> + My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little quicker, + but I can't say); my lady sat upright, looking handsum and strong. + Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his wife and hat on + the other. He looked very pale and frightened; his wife, poar thing! had + her head berried in her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. + </p> + <p> + Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she was less + than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at onst, and held out + her arms—she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and I respect her for + it. The poor hunchback flung herself into Miss's arms, with a kind of + whooping screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite a + historical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, in cors, + left the door ajar. + </p> + <p> + “Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy!” says my lord, in a loud, hearty + voice. “You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you rogue? But we knew + it, my dear fellow: we knew the whole affair—did we not, my soul?—and + you see, kept our secret better than you did yours.” + </p> + <p> + “I must confess, sir,” says Deuceace, bowing, “that I had no idea of the + happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you dog; no, no,” says my lord, giggling: “old birds, you know, not + to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we are, all spliced and + happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon; let us smoke a segar, and talk over + the perils and adventures of the last month. My love,” says my lord, + turning to his lady, “you have no malice against poor Algernon, I trust? + Pray shake HIS HAND.” (A grin.) + </p> + <p> + But my lady rose and said, “I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I never wished + to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, to change my + opinion.” And herewith she sailed out of the room, by the door through + which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, “I was in hopes she + had forgiven you; but I know the whole story, and I must confess you used + her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow!—that was your game, was + it, you rogue?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and Lady + Grif—Lady Crabs, before our quarrel?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly—you made love to her, and she was almost in love with + you; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off in + revenge: no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace; no more sauter la coupe. I + can't think how the deuce you will manage to live without them.” + </p> + <p> + “Your lordship is very kind; but I have given up play altogether,” says + Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he? This is better and + better. Are you thinking of going into the church, Deuceace?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious?” + </p> + <p> + “Serious! a quoi bon? I am serious—serious in my surprise that, when + you might have had either of these women, you should have preferred that + hideous wife of yours.” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish about a + wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to your own son?” + says Deuceace, growing fierce. + </p> + <p> + “How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand pounds—there + is an execution at Sizes Hall—every acre I have is in the hands of + my creditors; and that's why I married her. Do you think there was any + love? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's not a fool—she + married me for my coronet, and I married her for her money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married the + daughter-in-law.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I DO, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to live? Dawkins's five + thousand pounds won't last forever; and afterwards?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean, my lord—you don't—I mean, you can't— D—-!” + says he, starting up, and losing all patience, “you don't dare to say that + Miss Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year?” + </p> + <p> + My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another segar; he + lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly— + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, and has she not got it now? Has she spent it in a week?” + </p> + <p> + “SHE HAS NOT GOT A SIX-PENCE NOW: SHE MARRIED WITHOUT HER MOTHER'S + CONSENT!” + </p> + <p> + Deuceace sunk down in a chair; and I never see such a dreadful picture of + despair as there was in the face of that retchid man!—he writhed, + and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled madly the stump + of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he threw it over his livid pale + face, and sinking backwards, fairly wept alowd. + </p> + <p> + Bah! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying! his pashn torn up from + the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git such a vent. + My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and went on. + </p> + <p> + “My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have left you alone + in peace, with your four thousand pounds: you might have lived decently + upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per cent, where your duns would + not find you, and a couple of hundred a year would have kept you and your + wife in comfort. But, you see, Lady Crabs would not listen to it. You had + injured her; and, after she had tried to kill you and failed, she + determined to ruin you, and succeeded. I must own to you that I directed + the arresting business, and put her up to buying your protested bills: she + got them for a trifle, and as you have paid them, has made a good two + thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painful thing to be sure, for a + father to get his son arrested; but que voulez-vous! I did not appear in + the transaction: she would have you ruined; and it was absolutely + necessary that YOU should marry before I could, so I pleaded your cause + with Miss Griffin, and made you the happy man you are. You rogue, you + rogue! you thought to match your old father, did you? But, never mind; + lunch will be ready soon. In the meantime, have a segar, and drink a glass + of Sauterne.” + </p> + <p> + Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up wildly. + </p> + <p> + “I'll not believe it,” he said: “it's a lie, an infernal lie! forged by + you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet you have + married. I'll not believe it; show me the will. Matilda! Matilda!” shouted + he, screaming hoarsely, and flinging open the door by which she had gone + out. + </p> + <p> + “Keep your temper, my boy. You ARE vexed, and I feel for you: but don't + use such bad language: it is quite needless, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + “Matilda!” shouted out Deuceace again; and the poor crooked thing came + trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. + </p> + <p> + “Is this true, woman?” says he, clutching hold of her hand. + </p> + <p> + “What, dear Algernon?” says she. + </p> + <p> + “What?” screams out Deuceace,—“what? Why that you are a beggar, for + marrying without your mother's consent—that you basely lied to me, + in order to bring about this match—that you are a swindler, in + conspiracy with that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” sobbed the poor woman, “that I have nothing; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool?” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing!—but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is that + not enough for us? You love me for myself, don't you, Algernon? You have + told me so a thousand times—say so again, dear husband; and do not, + do not be so unkind.” And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, + and tried to catch his hand, and kiss it. + </p> + <p> + “How much did you say?” says my lord. + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand a year, sir; he has told us so a thousand times.” + </p> + <p> + “TWO THOUSAND! Two thou—ho, ho, ho!—haw! haw! haw!” roars my + lord. “That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My dear + creature, he has not a shilling—not a single maravedi, by all the + gods and goddesses.” And this exlnt noblemin began laffin louder than + ever: a very kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. + </p> + <p> + There was a paws: and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing at her + husband as he had done at her: she only said, “O Algernon! is this true?” + and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. + </p> + <p> + My lord opened the great box. “If you or your lawyers would like to + examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your service; you will see here + the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire fortune to Lady + Griffin—Lady Crabs that is: and here, my dear boy, you see the + danger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed you the FIRST PAGE + OF THE WILL, of course; she wanted to try you. You thought you made a + great stroke in at once proposing to Miss Griffin—do not mind it, my + love, he really loves you now very sincerely!—when, in fact, you + would have done much better to have read the rest of the will. You were + completely bitten, my boy—humbugged, bamboozled—ay, and by + your old father, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused + to lend me a portion of your Dawkins money. I told you I would; and I DID. + I had you the very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy; + don't try your luck again against such old hands: look deuced well before + you leap: audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, read both sides of the + will. I think lunch is ready; but I see you don't smoke. Shall we go in?” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, my lord,” says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: “I shall not share your + hospitality—but—but you know my condition; I am penniless—you + know the manner in which my wife has been brought up—” + </p> + <p> + “The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, as if + nothing had occurred to interrupt the friendship between her dear mother + and herself.” + </p> + <p> + “And for me, sir,” says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow; “I hope—I + trust—I think, my lord, you will not forget me?” + </p> + <p> + “Forget you, sir; certainly not.” + </p> + <p> + “And that you will make some provision—?” + </p> + <p> + “Algernon Deuceace,” says my lord, getting up from the sophy, and looking + at him with sich a jolly malignity, as I never see, “I declare, before + heaven, that I will not give you a penny!” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, “My dear, + will you join your mother and me? We shall always, as I said, have a home + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the poar thing, dropping a curtsy, “my home is with HIM!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, and the + autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my lady, me and Mortimer, were + taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong, the carridge driving on slowly ahead, + and us as happy as possbill, admiring the pleasant woods and the goldn + sunset. + </p> + <p> + My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit beauty of the sean, + and pouring forth a host of butifle and virtuous sentaments sootable to + the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. “Ah!” said he, “black must be the + heart, my love, which does not feel the influence of a scene like this; + gathering as it were, from those sunlit skies, a portion of their + celestial gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven with each pure draught of + this delicious air!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked upwards. Mortimer + and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean, and lent on our goold + sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to us, and my lord and my + lady sauntered slowly tords it. + </p> + <p> + Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a poorly drest woman, + and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom I thought I'd sean + befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat, with white seems and copper + buttons; a torn hat was on his head, and great quantaties of matted hair + and whiskers disfiggared his countnints. He was not shaved, and as pale as + stone. + </p> + <p> + My lord and lady didn tak the slightest notice of him, but past on to the + carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took OUR places. As we past, the man + had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, who was holding down her head + sobbing bitterly. + </p> + <p> + No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, with igstream + dellixy and good natur, burst into a ror of lafter, peal upon peal, + whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening silents. + </p> + <p> + DEUCEACE turned round. I see his face now—the face of a devvle of + hell! Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to it with his + maimed arm; then he raised the other, AND STRUCK THE WOMAN BY HIS SIDE. + She fell, screaming. + </p> + <p> + Poor thing! Poor thing! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. + </h2> + <p> + The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end of my + corrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part with me as I am with + the public; becaws I fansy reely that we've become frends, and feal for my + part a becoming greaf at saying ajew. + </p> + <p> + It's imposbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I have done—violetting + the rules of authography, and trampling upon the fust princepills of + English grammar. When I began, I knew no better: when I'd carrid on these + papers a little further, and grew accustmd to writin, I began to smel out + somethink quear in my style. Within the last sex weaks I have been + learning to spell: and when all the world was rejoicing at the + festivvaties of our youthful Quean—*when all i's were fixed upon her + long sweet of ambasdors and princes, following the splendid carridge of + Marshle the Duke of Damlatiar, and blinking at the pearls and dimince of + Prince Oystereasy—Yellowplush was in his loanly pantry—HIS + eyes were fixt upon the spelling-book—his heart was bent upon + mastring the diffickleties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, + CONVERTID. + </p> + <p> + * This was written in 1838. + </p> + <p> + You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house; and ever sins his + third son has got a place in the Treasury, his secknd a captingsy in the + Guards, his fust, the secretary of embasy at Pekin, with a prospick of + being appinted ambasdor at Loo Choo—ever sins master's sons have + reseaved these attentions, and master himself has had the promis of a + pearitch, he has been the most reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in + or out of the House of Commins. + </p> + <p> + Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave littery + pipple; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose name do you think I + had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a wick ago? After + several dukes and markises had been enounced, a very gentell fly drives up + to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen. One was pail, and wor + spektickles, a wig, and a white neckcloth. The other was slim with a hook + nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a pare of falling shoulders, a tight + coat, and a catarack of black satting tumbling out of his busm, and + falling into a gilt velvet weskit. The little genlmn settled his wigg, and + pulled out his ribbins; the younger one fluffed the dust of his shoes, + looked at his whiskers in a little pockit-glas, settled his crevatt; and + they both mounted upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “What name, sir?” says I, to the old genlmn. + </p> + <p> + “Name!—a! now, you thief o' the wurrld,” says he, “do you pretind + nat to know ME? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa—no, I mane the + Litherary Chran—psha!—bluthanowns!—say it's DOCTHOR + DIOCLESIAN LARNER—I think he'll know me now—ay, Nid?” But the + genlmn called Nid was at the botm of the stare, and pretended to be very + busy with his shoo-string. So the little genlmn went upstares alone. + </p> + <p> + “DOCTOR DIOLESIUS LARNER!” says I. + </p> + <p> + “DOCTOR ATHANASIUS LARDNER!” says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd footman, + on the fust landing-place. + </p> + <p> + “DOCTOR IGNATIUS LOYOLA!” says the groom of the chambers, who pretends to + be a scholar; and in the little genlmn went. When safely housed, the other + chap came; and when I asked him his name, said, in a thick, gobbling kind + of voice: + </p> + <p> + “Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir what?” says I, quite agast at the name. + </p> + <p> + “Sawedwad—no, I mean MISTAWedwad Lyttn Bulwig.” + </p> + <p> + My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice shook, as I + past up the venrabble name to the other footman, and saw this fust of + English writers go up to the drawing-room! + </p> + <p> + It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the compny, or to + dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to say that the two + littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have good appytights; + igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who et, drunk, and talked as + much as a duzn. He told how he'd been presented at cort by his friend, Mr. + Bulwig, and how the Quean had received 'em both, with a dignity + undigscribable; and how her blessid Majisty asked what was the bony fidy + sale of the Cabinit Cyclopaedy, and how be (Doctor Larner) told her that, + on his honner, it was under ten thowsnd. + </p> + <p> + You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, was pretty far + gone. The fact is, that whether it was the coronation, or the goodness of + the wine (cappitle it is in our house, I can tell you), or the natral + propensaties of the gests assembled, which made them so igspecially jolly, + I don't know; but they had kep up the meating pretty late, and our poar + butler was quite tired with the perpechual baskits of clarrit which he'd + been called upon to bring up. So that about 11 o'clock, if I were to say + they were merry, I should use a mild term; if I wer to say they were + intawsicated, I should use a nigspresshn more near to the truth, but less + rispeckful in one of my situashn. + </p> + <p> + The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute extonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Doctor Larnder,” says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep up the + littery conversation, “what is the Cabinet Cyclopaedia?” + </p> + <p> + “It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld,” says he; “and sure your + lordship must have seen it; the latther numbers ispicially—cheap as + durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shillings a vollum. The illusthrious + neems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther Southey, Sir James + Mackintosh, Docther Donovan, and meself, are to be found in the list of + conthributors. It's the Phaynix of Cyclopajies—a litherary Bacon.” + </p> + <p> + “A what?” says the genlmn nex to him. + </p> + <p> + “A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age; fild wid the pure end + lambent flame of science, burning with the gorrgeous scintillations of + divine litherature—a monumintum, in fact, are perinnius, bound in + pink calico, six shillings a vollum.” + </p> + <p> + “This wigmawole,” said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather disgusted that his + friend should take up so much of the convassation), “this wigmawole is all + vewy well; but it's cuwious that you don't wemember, in chawactewising the + litewawy mewits of the vawious magazines, cwonicles, weviews, and + encyclopaedias, the existence of a cwitical weview and litewary chwonicle, + which, though the aewa of its appeawance is dated only at a vewy few + months pwevious to the pwesent pewiod, is, nevertheless, so wemarkable for + its intwinsic mewits as to be wead, not in the metwopolis alone, but in + the countwy—not in Fwance merely, but in the west of Euwope—whewever + our pure Wenglish is spoken, it stwetches its peaceful sceptre—pewused + in Amewica, fwom New York to Ningawa—wepwinted in Canada, from + Montweal to Towonto—and, as I am gwatified to hear fwom my fwend the + governor of Cape Coast Castle, wegularly weceived in Afwica, and + twanslated into the Mandingo language by the missionawies and the + bushwangers. I need not say, gentlemen—sir—that is, Mr. + Speaker—I mean, Sir John—that I allude to the Litewary + Chwonicle, of which I have the honor to be pwincipal contwibutor.” + </p> + <p> + “Very true; my dear Mr. Bullwig,” says my master: “you and I being Whigs, + must of course stand by our own friends; and I will agree, without a + moment's hesitation, that the Literary what-d'ye-call'em is the prince of + periodicals.” + </p> + <p> + “The pwince of pewiodicals?” says Bullwig; “my dear Sir John, it's the + empewow of the pwess.” + </p> + <p> + “Soit,—let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically call + it: but, between ourselves, confess it,—Do not the Tory writers beat + your Whigs hollow? You talk about magazines. Look at—” + </p> + <p> + “Look at hwat?” shouts out Larder. “There's none, Sir Jan, compared to + ourrs.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, I think that—” + </p> + <p> + “It is 'Bentley's Mislany' you mane?” says Ignatius, as sharp as a niddle. + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; but—” + </p> + <p> + “O thin, it's Co'burn, sure! and that divvle Thayodor—a pretty + paper, sir, but light—thrashy, milk-and-wathery—not sthrong, + like the Litherary Chran—good luck to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name of the + periodical, it's FRASER'S MAGAZINE.” + </p> + <p> + “FRESER!” says the Doctor. “O thunder and turf!” + </p> + <p> + “FWASER!” says Bullwig. “O—ah—hum—haw—yes—no—why,—that + is weally—no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the + name of the pewiodical. By the by, Sir John, what wemarkable good clawet + this is; is it Lawose or Laff—?” + </p> + <p> + Laff, indeed! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could kip it + neither,—for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind the + skreend, settlin somethink for the genlmn, I bust into such a raw of + laffing as never was igseeded. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” says Bullwig, turning red. “Have I said anything impwobable, aw + widiculous? for, weally, I never befaw wecollect to have heard in society + such a twemendous peal of cachinnation—that which the twagic bard + who fought at Mawathon has called an anewithmon gelasma.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, be the holy piper,” says Larder, “I think you are dthrawing a little + on your imagination. Not read Fraser! Don't believe him, my lord duke; he + reads every word of it, the rogue! The boys about that magazine baste him + as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out, Sir Jan, was + because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has every syllable of it be + heart—from the pailitix down to the 'Yellowplush Correspondence.'” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha!” says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my ears prickt + up when I heard the name of the “Yellowplush Correspondence”). “Ha, ha! + why, to tell truth, I HAVE wead the cowespondence to which you allude: + it's a gweat favowite at court. I was talking with Spwing Wice and John + Wussell about it the other day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, and what do you think of it?” says Sir John, looking mity waggish—for + he knew it was me who roat it. + </p> + <p> + “Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about the + cweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwabability, and the + orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a positive study + to compwehend it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, faith,” says Larner; “the arthagraphy is detestible; it's as bad for + a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a brrogue. + Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my lord, and good + luck to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yaw wemark,” says Bullwig, “is vewy appwopwiate. You will wecollect, Sir + John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you know more about Iwish than + about Gweek),—you will wecollect, without doubt, a stowy nawwated by + that cwedulous though fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind of sheep + which is known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of which the tail + is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or is bound up by + the shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, or cart, which + makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus 'the sheep of Awabia have + their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this clawet is weally + nectaweous)—I have often, I say, thought that the wace of man may be + compawed to these Awabian sheep—genius is our tail, education our + wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop it, this genius dwops on + the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or injured by the wocks upon the + way: with the wheelbawwow it is stwengthened, incweased, and supported—a + pwide to the owner, a blessing to mankind.” + </p> + <p> + “A very appropriate simile,” says Sir John; “and I am afraid that the + genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support.” + </p> + <p> + “Apropos,” said Bullwig, “who IS Yellowplush? I was given to understand + that the name was only a fictitious one, and that the papers were written + by the author of the 'Diary of a Physician;' if so, the man has + wonderfully improved in style, and there is some hope of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” says the Duke of Doublejowl; “everybody knows it's Barnard, the + celebrated author of 'Sam Slick.'” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, my dear duke,” says Lord Bagwig; “it's the authoress of 'High + Life,' 'Almack's,' and other fashionable novels.” + </p> + <p> + “Fiddlestick's end!” says Doctor Larner; “don't be blushing and pretinding + to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It's you yourself, you thief + of the world: we smoked you from the very beginning.” + </p> + <p> + Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interrupted them, + and said,—“I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush is no + other than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your last glass + of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an ornament + of my kitchen!” + </p> + <p> + “Gad!” says Doublejowl, “let's have him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Hear, hear!” says Bagwig. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now,” says Larner, “your grace is not going to call up and talk to a + footman, sure? Is it gintale?” + </p> + <p> + “To say the least of it,” says Bullwig, “the pwactice is iwwegular, and + indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way + pwofitable.” + </p> + <p> + But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and + everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was wrung; butler + came. “Send up Charles,” says master; and Charles, who was standing behind + the skreand, was persnly abliged to come in. + </p> + <p> + “Charles,” says master, “I have been telling these gentlemen who is the + author of the 'Yellowplush Correspondence' in Fraser's Magazine.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the best magazine in Europe,” says the duke. + </p> + <p> + “And no mistake,” says my lord. + </p> + <p> + “Hwhat!” says Larner; “and where's the Litherary Chran?” + </p> + <p> + I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like pickle-cabbitch. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Yellowplush,” says his grace, “will you, in the first place, drink a + glass of wine?” + </p> + <p> + I boughed agin. + </p> + <p> + “And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, your grace,” says I, “I know my place, and ain't above kitchin + wines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to the health of this + honrabble compny.” + </p> + <p> + When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me the honor + to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit; when my master said:— + </p> + <p> + “Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's Magazine + with so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of your talents as a + writer, that I really cannot keep you as a footman any longer, or allow + you to discharge duties for which you are now quite unfit. With all my + admiration for your talents, Mr. Yellowplush, I still am confident that + many of your friends in the servants'-hall will clean my boots a great + deal better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to do—it + is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may be writing + articles in magazines. But—you need not look so red, my good fellow, + and had better take another glass of port—I don't wish to throw you + upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have made + interest for a little place which you will have under government, and + which will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum; which you can + double, I presume, by your literary labors.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, “do not—for + heaven's sake, do not!—think of any such think, or drive me from + your suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in magaseens. Glans + but one moment at your honor's plate—every spoon is as bright as a + mirror; condysend to igsamine your shoes—your honor may see + reflected in them the fases of every one in the company. I blacked them + shoes, I cleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the footman + in the litterary man, and committed to paper my remindicences of + fashnabble life, it was from a sincere desire to do good, and promote + nollitch: and I appeal to your honor,—I lay my hand on my busm, and + in the fase of this noble company beg you to say, When you rung your bell, + who came to you fust? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat + up for you? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his + station, and answered the two-pair bell? Oh, sir,” says I, “I know what's + what; don't send me away. I know them littery chaps, and, beleave me, I'd + rather be a footman. The work's not so hard—the pay is better: the + vittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to clean my things, and run my + errints, and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! Mr. + Bullwig! an't I right? shall I quit MY station and sink—that is to + say, rise—to YOURS?” + </p> + <p> + Bullwig was violently affected; a tear stood in his glistening i. + “Yellowplush,” says he, seizing my hand, “you ARE right. Quit not your + present occupation; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all your life, + but don't turn literary man. Look at me. I am the first novelist in + Europe. I have ranged with eagle wing over the wide regions of literature, + and perched on every eminence in its turn. I have gazed with eagle eyes on + the sun of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depths of the human + mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts are known to me, all + men understood by me. I have gathered wisdom from the honeyed lips of + Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of Acadames—wisdom, too, from + the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked our 'backy in Seven Dials. Such + must be the studies, and such is the mission, in this world, of the + Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge is only emptiness; the initiation is + but misery; the initiated, a man shunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh,” + said Bullwig, clasping his hands, and throwing his fine i's up to the + chandelier, “the curse of Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and + punishment pursue them from genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the + heaven-scaler, the fire-stealer! Wo and thrice bitter desolation! Earth is + the wock on which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim—men, + the vultures that feed and fatten on him. Ai, ai! it is agony eternal—gwoaning + and solitawy despair! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these + mystewies: you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twemendous + Pwesence. Beware; as you value your peace, beware! Withdwaw, wash + Neophyte! For heaven's sake—O for heaven's sake!”—here he + looked round with agony—“give me a glass of bwandy-and-water, for + this clawet is beginning to disagwee with me.” + </p> + <p> + Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own sattasfackshn, + looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then swigged off the glass of + brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as he took the last gulph; and then + Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, in order to show his + independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the + rest of the genlmn present, in the following manner:— + </p> + <p> + “Hark ye,” says he, “my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the nonsinse of + that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, my bhoy: that's the rale, + undoubted thruth; and it's only to keep you out of litherary life that + he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you what—Plush ye + blackguard,—my honorable frind the mimber there has told me a hunder + times by the smallest computation, of his intense admiration of your + talents, and the wonderful sthir they were making in the world. He can't + bear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatableness. Look at him, + Plush, and look at me. My father was not a juke exactly, nor aven a + markis, and see, nevertheliss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no + ixpinse; I'm the iditor of a cople of pariodicals; I dthrive about in me + carridge: I dine wid the lords of the land; and why—in the name of + the piper that pleed before Mosus, hwy? Because I'm a litherary man. + Because I know how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther Larner, in fact, + and mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remained + all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as that + offered you by Sir Jan; but I came to London—to London, my boy, and + now see! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He IS a gentleman, to be sure, + and bad luck to 'im, say I; and what has been the result of his litherary + labor? I'll tell you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the + shade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him a BARINET.” + </p> + <p> + “A BARNET, Doctor!” says I; “you don't mean to say they're going to make + him a barnet!” + </p> + <p> + “As sure as I've made meself a docthor,” says Larner. + </p> + <p> + “What, a baronet, like Sir John?” + </p> + <p> + “The divle a bit else.” + </p> + <p> + “And pray what for?” + </p> + <p> + “What faw?” says Bullwig. “Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? Ask + Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat Bwitish + nation, what faw? The blood in my veins comes puwified thwough ten + thousand years of chivalwous ancestwy; but that is neither here nor there: + my political principles—the equal wights which I have advocated—the + gweat cause of fweedom that I have celebwated, are known to all. But this, + I confess, has nothing to do with the question. No, the question is this—on + the thwone of litewature I stand unwivalled, pwe-eminent; and the Bwitish + government, honowing genius in me, compliments the Bwitish nation by + lifting into the bosom of the heweditawy nobility, the most gifted member + of the democwacy.” (The honrabble genlm here sunk down amidst repeated + cheers.) + </p> + <p> + “Sir John,” says I, “and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint frend + Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has just sate down, + have made me change the detummination which I had the honor of igspressing + just now. + </p> + <p> + “I igsept the eighty pound a year; knowing that I shall ave plenty of time + for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set on that same + bentch of barranites, which is deckarated by the presnts of my honrabble + friend. + </p> + <p> + “Why shooden I? It's trew I ain't done anythink as YET to deserve such an + honor; and it's very probable that I never shall. But what then?—quaw + dong, as our friends say? I'd much rayther have a coat-of-arms than a coat + of livry. I'd much rayther have my blud-red hand spralink in the middle of + a shield, than underneath a tea-tray. A barranit I will be; and, in + consiquints, must cease to be a footmin. + </p> + <p> + “As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled: they + are, I know, necessary; but they ain't necessary UNTIL ASKT FOR; besides, + I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, and so ignirince on this pint would + be inigscusable. + </p> + <p> + “But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit, and + another a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and another the + wife of a governor of the Cape of Good Hope, I begin to perseave that the + littery trade ain't such a very bad un; igspecially if you're up to + snough, and know what's o'clock. I'll learn to make myself usefle, in the + fust place; then I'll larn to spell; and, I trust, by reading the novvles + of the honrabble member, and the scientafick treatiseses of the reverend + doctor, I may find the secrit of suxess, and git a litell for my own + share. I've sevral frends in the press, having paid for many of those + chaps' drink, and given them other treets; and so I think I've got all the + emilents of suxess; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, to igsept your + kind offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yous of when I + refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you'd withdraw yourself,” said Sir John, bursting into a most + igstrorinary rage, “and not interrupt the company with your infernal talk! + Go down, and get us coffee: and, hark ye! hold your impertinent tongue, or + I'll break every bone in your body. You shall have the place as I said; + and while you're in my service, you shall be my servant; but you don't + stay in my service after to-morrow. Go down stairs, sir; and don't stand + staring here!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + In this abrupt way, my evening ended; it's with a melancholy regret that I + think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am an altered, a + wiser, and, I trust, a better man. + </p> + <p> + I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in the style + of my friend Bullwig; and preparing for publigation, in the Doctor's + Cyclopedear, “The Lives of Eminent British and Foring Wosherwomen.” + </p> + <p> + SKIMMINGS FROM “THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV.” CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO + OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* + </p> + <p> + DEAR WHY,—Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me + (who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshire for + six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old English hospitalaty. + This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our sports in the + country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four posterses could + gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the two vollumes of a + new book; which, as I have been away from the literary world, and emplied + solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying neglected in my pantry, + among my knife-cloaths, and dekanters, and blacking-bottles, and bed-room + candles, and things. + </p> + <p> + * These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it may + be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that “Oliver + Yorke” is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical. + </p> + <p> + This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. I see + sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, and have + given their apinions concerning it: specially the Quotly Revew, which has + most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of the Times of + George IV.* + </p> + <p> + * Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed with + Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from various other + distinguished Persons. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Tot ou tard, tout se scait.”—MAINTENON. +</pre> + <p> + In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn. + </p> + <p> + That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, + as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femail + wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, I, in coarse, can't + conjecter: and indeed, common galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only + judge of the book itself; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching + upon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz. fashnabble life, as igsibited in + the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. + </p> + <p> + But I bare no mallis—infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matter + where the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from that + distinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed—whether, I say, + it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a scullion to that + diffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is nollidge; never mind how we + have it. Nollidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit—it's + always good, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. + </p> + <p> + Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonal + intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my private + memoars—though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, by + cuttin short the tail of my narratif—though much that I had to say + in souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my orytory, the + benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus + abruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor + writing English; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I am + puffickly prepaired to say, to gainsay which no man can say a word—yet + I say, that I say I consider this publication welkom. Far from viewing it + with enfy, I greet it with applaws; because it increases that most exlent + specious of nollidge, I mean “FASHNABBLE NOLLIDGE:” compayred to witch all + other nollidge is nonsince—a bag of goold to a pare of snuffers. + </p> + <p> + Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say what he had tu + say better? We are marters, both of us, to prinsple; and every body who + knows eather knows that we would sacrafice anythink rather than that. + Fashion is the goddiss I adoar. This delightful work is an offring on her + srine; and as sich all her wushippers are bound to hail it. Here is not a + question of trumpry lords and honrabbles, generals and barronites, but the + crown itself, and the king and queen's actions; witch may be considered as + the crown jewels. Here's princes, and grand-dukes and airsparent, and + heaven knows what; all with blood-royal in their veins, and their names + mentioned in the very fust page of the peeridge. In this book you become + so intmate with the Prince of Wales, that you may follow him, if you + please, to his marridge-bed: or, if you prefer the Princiss Charlotte, you + may have with her an hour's tator-tator.* + </p> + <p> + * Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tete-a-tete.—O. Y. + </p> + <p> + Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this book have been given + already (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say,) I shall trouble you, + nevertheless, with a few; partly because they can't be repeated too often, + and because the toan of obsyvation with which they have been genrally + received by the press, is not igsackly such as I think they merit. How, + indeed, can these common magaseen and newspaper pipple know anythink of + fashnabble life, let alone ryal? + </p> + <p> + Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has done reel good on + this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look through it, for + the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, and which I think may + be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick. + </p> + <p> + For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that this is no + common catchpny book, like that of most authors and authoresses, who write + for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless you! the Dairy-maid is above + anything musnary. She is a woman of rank, and no mistake; and is as much + above doin a common or vulgar action as I am superaor to taking beer after + dinner with my cheese. She proves that most satisfackarily, as we see in + the following passidge:— + </p> + <p> + “Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phrases on + different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes to have published: + her whole correspondence with the prince relative to Lady J—-'s + dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the princess; and, finally, the + acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland, &c., + at the time of the secret inquiry: when, if proof could have been brought + against her, it certainly would have been done; and which acquittal, to + the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to the justice of the + nation in general, was not made public at the time. A common criminal is + publicly condemned or acquitted. Her royal highness commanded me to have + these letters published forthwith, saying, 'You may sell them for a great + sum.' At first (for she had spoken to me before concerning this business), + I thought of availing myself of the opportunity; but upon second thoughts, + I turned from this idea with detestation: for, if I do wrong by obeying + her wishes and endeavoring to serve her, I will do so at least from good + and disinterested motives, not from any sordid views. The princess + commands me, and I will obey her, whatever may be the issue; but not for + fare or fee. I own I tremble, not so much for myself, as for the idea that + she is not taking the best and most dignified way of having these papers + published. Why make a secret of it at all? If wrong, it should not be + done; if right it should be done openly, and in the face of her enemies. + In her royal highness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, + why do they shrink from straightforward dealings, and rather have recourse + to crooked policy? I wish, in this particular instance, I could make her + royal highness feel thus: but she is naturally indignant at being falsely + accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation.” + </p> + <p> + Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The Dairy-lady is quite + fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no favior! “I won't do + behind my back what I am ashamed of before my face: not I!” No more she + does; for you see that, though she was offered this manyscrip by the + princess FOR NOTHINK, though she knew that she could actially get for it a + large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble, grateful, + fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and never will have + recors to disguise or crookid polacy. This ought to be an ansure to them + RADICLE SNEERERS, who pretend that they are the equals of fashnabble + pepple; wheras it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar roagues have no + notion of honor. + </p> + <p> + And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her ladyship + (long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!)—after this + positif declaration, that, even for the porpus of DEFENDING her missis, + she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a peculiarly + consideration, it is actially asserted in the public prints by a + booxeller, that he has given her A THOUSAND POUND for the Dairy. A + thousand pound! nonsince!—it's a phigment! a base lible! This woman + take a thousand pound, in a matter where her dear mistriss, friend, and + benyfactriss was concerned! Never! A thousand baggonits would be more + prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion. + </p> + <p> + But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of my + expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionally vulgar, + and not such as is genrally used in those exqizzit famlies which I + frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in this book, wrote as all + the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of kings and queens as if + they were as common as sand-boys—there is in this book more + wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dare TO + THINK ON, and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I was a boy at + school. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his own: never mind spellin, I + say, so long as the sence is right. + </p> + <p> + Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming lady of + honor; and a very nice corryspondent he is, too, without any mistake: + </p> + <p> + “Lady O—-, poor Lady O—-! knows the rules of prudence, I fear + me, as imperfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars: or + she hath let her brother, who is a sad swine, become master of her + secrets, and then contrived to quarrel with him. You would see the outline + of the melange in the newspapers; but not the report that Mr. S—- is + about to publish a pamphlet, as an addition to the Harleian Tracts, + setting forth the amatory adventures of his sister. We shall break our + necks in haste to buy it, of course crying 'Shameful' all the while; and + it is said that Lady O—- is to be cut, which I cannot entirely + believe. Let her tell two or three old women about town that they are + young and handsome, and give some well-timed parties, and she may still + keep the society which she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as + they once were, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with anything + like impunity. People were full as gallant many years ago. But the days + are gone by wherein my lord-protector of the commonwealth of England was + wont to go a lovemaking to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. + </p> + <p> + “And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband at last, and + Miss Laura Manners left without a mate! She and Lord Stair should marry + and have children in mere revenge. As to Miss Gordon, she's a Venus well + suited for such a Vulcan,—whom nothing but money and a title could + have rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen wench. It is said that the + matrimonial correspondence between this couple is to be published, full of + sad scandalous relations, of which you may be sure scarcely a word is + true. In former times, the Duchess of St. A—-s made use of these + elegant epistles in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone: but that ruse + would not avail; so in spite, they are to be printed. What a cargo of + amiable creatures! Yet will some people scarcely believe in the existence + of Pandemonium. + </p> + <p> + “Tuesday Morning.—You are perfectly right respecting the hot rooms + here, which we all cry out against, and all find very comfortable—much + more so than the cold sands and bleak neighborhood of the sea; which looks + vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon crimson damask, + but hideous and shocking in reality. H—- and his 'elle' (talking of + parties) were last night at Cholmondeley House, but seem not to ripen in + their love. He is certainly good-humored, and I believe, good-hearted, so + deserves a good wife; but his cara seems a genuine London miss made up of + many affectations. Will she form a comfortable helpmate? For me, I like + not her origin, and deem many strange things to run in blood, besides + madness and the Hanoverian evil. + </p> + <p> + “Thursday.—I verily do believe that I shall never get to the end of + this small sheet of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have I had; + and now I have been to Vauxhall, and caught the toothache. I was of Lady + E. B—-m and H—-'s party: very dull—the Lady giving us + all a supper after our promenade— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Much ado was there, God wot + She would love, but he would not.' +</pre> + <p> + He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it: and + she 'faisoit les yeux doux' enough not only to have melted all the ice + which he swallowed, but his own hard heart into the bargain. The thing + will not do. In the meantime, Miss Long hath become quite cruel to + Wellesley Pole, and divides her favor equally between Lords Killeen and + Kilworth, two as simple Irishmen as ever gave birth to a bull. I wish to + Hymen that she were fairly married, for all this pother gives one a + disgusting picture of human nature.” + </p> + <p> + A disgusting pictur of human nature, indeed—and isn't he who + moralizes about it, and she to whom he writes, a couple of pretty heads in + the same piece? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, the scandle or the + scandle-mongers? See what it is to be a moral man of fashn. Fust, he + scrapes togither all the bad stoaries about all the people of his + acquentance—he goes to a ball, and laffs or snears at everybody + there—he is asked to a dinner, and brings away, along with meat and + wine to his heart's content, a sour stomick filled with nasty stories of + all the people present there. He has such a squeamish appytite, that all + the world seems to DISAGREE with him. And what has he got to say to his + delicate female frend? Why that— + </p> + <p> + Fust. Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady O—-, + his sister, which everybody's goin to by. + </p> + <p> + Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an usband; and that all + their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too. + </p> + <p> + 3. That Lord H. is going to be married; but there's some thing rong in his + wife's blood. + </p> + <p> + 4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two Irish lords. + </p> + <p> + Wooden you phancy, now, that the author of such a letter, instead of + writin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin Vinegar Yard? Would + you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin to was a chased, modist lady of + honor, and mother of a famly? O trumpery! O morris! as Homer says: this is + a higeous pictur of manners, such as I weap to think of, as evry morl man + must weap. + </p> + <p> + The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life: what follows is + about families even higher situated than the most fashnabble. Here we have + the princessregient, her daughter the Princess Sharlot, her grandmamma the + old quean, and her madjisty's daughters the two princesses. If this is not + high life, I don't know where it is to be found; and it's pleasing to see + what affeckshn and harmny rains in such an exolted spear. + </p> + <p> + “Sunday 24th.—Yesterday, the princess went to meet the Princess + Charlotte at Kensington. Lady —— told me that, when the latter + arrived, she rushed up to her mother, and said, 'For God's sake, be civil + to her,' meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. Lady —— + said she felt sorry for the latter; but when the Princess of Wales talked + to her, she soon became so free and easy, that one could not have any + FEELING about her FEELINGS. Princess Charlotte, I was told, was looking + handsome, very pale, but her head more becomingly dressed,—that is + to say, less dressed than usual. Her figure is of that full round shape + which is now in its prime; but she disfigures herself by wearing her + bodice so short, that she literally has no waist. Her feet are very + pretty; and so are her hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape of her + head. Her countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions to play + upon it; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, express so many + powerful and varied emotions. Lady —— told me that the + Princess Charlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in a very + quiet, but determined way, she WOULD NOT BEAR IT, and that as soon as + parliament met, she intended to come to Warwick House, and remain there; + that she was also determined not to consider the Duchess of Leeds as her + GOVERNESS but only as her FIRST LADY. She made many observations on other + persons and subjects; and appears to be very quick, very penetrating, but + imperious and wilful. There is a tone of romance, too, in her character, + which will only serve to mislead her. + </p> + <p> + “She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsor between + the queen and the prince, the former refusing to give up Miss Knight from + her own person to attend on Princess Charlotte as sub-governess. But the + prince-regent had gone to Windsor himself, and insisted on her doing so; + and the 'old Beguin' was forced to submit, but has been ill ever since: + and Sir Henry Halford declared it was a complete breaking up of her + constitution—to the great delight of the two princesses, who were + talking about this affair. Miss Knight was the very person they wished to + have; they think they can do as they like with her. It has been ordered + that the Princess Charlotte should not see her mother alone for a single + moment; but the latter went into her room, stuffed a pair of large shoes + full of papers, and having given them to her daughter, she went home. Lady + —— told me everything was written down and sent to Mr. + Brougham NEXT DAY.” + </p> + <p> + See what discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies. Here are + six of 'em—viz., the quean and her two daughters, her son, and his + wife and daughter; and the manner in which they hate one another is a + compleat puzzle. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + {his mother. + The Prince hates... {his wife. + {his daughter. + + Princess Charlotte hates her father. + + Princess of Wales hates her husband. +</pre> + <p> + The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death; and her two + jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a happy, fashnabble, + Christian famly! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if this is the way in the + drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live below, in pease and charaty with + all men; writin, as I am now, in my pantry, or els havin a quiet game at + cards in the servants-all. With US there's no bitter, wicked, quarling of + this sort. WE don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish 'em + ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and queens do. When + we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, WE don't fill our letters + with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of our fellow-servants, as + this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does. But, in coarse, it's not + for us to judge of our betters;—these great people are a supeerur + race, and we can't comprehend their ways. + </p> + <p> + Do you recklect—it's twenty years ago now—how a bewtiffle + princess died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole nation of + Hengland wep, as though it was one man, over that sweet woman and child, + in which were sentered the hopes of every one of us, and of which each was + as proud as of his own wife or infnt? Do you recklect how pore fellows + spent their last shillin to buy a black crape for their hats, and + clergymen cried in the pulpit, and the whole country through was no better + than a great dismal funeral? Do you recklet, Mr. Yorke, who was the person + that we all took on so about? We called her the Princis Sharlot of Wales; + and we valyoud a single drop of her blood more than the whole heartless + body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as a kind of saint or angle, + and blest God (such foolish loyal English pipple as we ware in those days) + who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. But heaven bless you! it was + only souperstition. She was no better than she should be, as it turns out—or + at least the Dairy-maid says so. No better?—if my daughters or yours + was 1/2 so bad, we'd as leaf be dead ourselves, and they hanged. But + listen to this pritty charritable story, and a truce to reflexshuns:— + </p> + <p> + “Sunday, January, 9, 1814.—Yesterday, according to appointment, I + went to Princess Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp-player, Dizzi; + was asked to remain and listen to his performance, but was talked to + during the whole time, which completely prevented all possibility of + listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her daughter were in the + room, but left it soon. Next arrived Miss Knight, who remained all the + time I was there. Princess Charlotte was very gracious—showed me all + her bonny dyes, as B—-would have called them—pictures, and + cases, and jewels, &c. She talked in a very desultory way, and it + would be difficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very low + spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise? This + QUESTIONING answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves two purposes—i.e. + avoids committing oneself, or giving offence by silence. There was hung in + the apartment one portrait, amongst others, that very much resembled the + Duke of D—-. I asked Miss Knight whom it represented. She said that + was not known; it had been supposed a likeness of the Pretender, when + young. This answer suited my thoughts so comically I could have laughed, + if one ever did at courts anything but the contrary of what one was + inclined to do. + </p> + <p> + “Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in her + countenance—a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen + in connection with such soft and shadeless coloring. Her hands and arms + are beautiful; but I think her figure is already gone, and will soon be + precisely like her mother's: in short it is the very picture of her, and + NOT IN MINIATURE. I could not help analyzing my own sensations during the + time I was with her, and thought more of them than I did of her. Why was I + at all flattered, at all more amused, at all more supple to this young + princess, than to her who is only the same sort of person set in the shade + of circumstances and of years? It is that youth, and the approach of + power, and the latent views of self-interest, sway the heart and dazzle + the understanding. If this is so with a heart not, I trust, corrupt, and a + head not particularly formed for interested calculations, what effect must + not the same causes produce on the generality of mankind? + </p> + <p> + “In the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived to + edge in a good deal of tum-de-dy, and would, if I had entered into the + thing, have gone on with it, while looking at a little picture of herself, + which had about thirty or forty different dresses to put over it, done on + isinglass, and which allowed the general coloring of the picture to be + seen through its transparency. It was, I thought, a pretty enough conceit, + though rather like dressing up a doll. 'Ah!,' said Miss Knight, 'I am not + content though, madame—for I yet should have liked one more dress—that + of the favorite Sultana.' + </p> + <p> + “'No, no!' said the princess, 'I never was a favorite, and never can be + one,'—looking at a picture which she said was her father's, but + which I do not believe was done for the regent any more than for me, but + represented a young man in a hussar's dress—probably a former + favorite. + </p> + <p> + “The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that was + taken of her birthday. After keeping me for two hours and a half she + dismissed me; and I am sure I could not say what she said, except that it + was an olio of decousus and heterogeneous things, partaking of the + characteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger scion. I dined + tete-a-tete with my dear old aunt: hers is always a sweet and soothing + society to me.” + </p> + <p> + There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you! An innocent young + thing of fifteen has picturs of TWO lovers in her room, and expex a good + number more. This dellygate young creature EDGES in a good deal of TUMDEDY + (I can't find it in Johnson's Dixonary), and would have GONE ON WITH THE + THING (ellygence of languidge), if the dairy-lady would have let her. + </p> + <p> + Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't beleave a single syllible + of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust place, that the + princess would have talked a good deal of TUMDEDY: which means, I suppose, + indeasnsy, if she, the lady of honner WOULD HAVE LET HER. This IS a good + one! Why, she lets every body else talk tumdedy to their hearts' content; + she lets her friends WRITE tumdedy, and, after keeping it for a quarter of + a sentry, she PRINTS it. Why then, be so squeamish about HEARING a little! + And, then, there's the stoary of the two portricks. This woman has the + honner to be received in the frendlyest manner by a British princess; and + what does the grateful loyal creature do? 2 picturs of the princess's + relations are hanging in her room, and the Dairy-woman swears away the + poor young princess's carrickter, by swearing they are picturs of her + LOVERS. For shame, oh, for shame! you slanderin backbitin dairy-woman you! + If you told all them things to your “dear old aunt,” on going to dine with + her, you must have had very “sweet and soothing society” indeed. + </p> + <p> + I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write about; but I + think I have said enough about this Dairy: in fack, the butler, and the + gals in the servants'-hall are not well pleased that I should go on + reading this naughty book; so we'll have no more of it, only one passidge + about Pollytics, witch is sertnly quite new:— + </p> + <p> + “No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the Crown Prince, + from the intimate knowledge he possessed of his character. Bernadotte was + also instigated against Bonaparte by one who not only owed him a personal + hatred, but who possessed a mind equal to his, and who gave the Crown + Prince both information and advice how to act. This was no less a person + than Madame de Stael. It was not, as some have asserted, THAT SHE WAS IN + LOVE WITH BERNADOTTE; for, at the time of their intimacy, MADAME DE STAEL + WAS IN LOVE WITH ROCCA. But she used her influence (which was not small) + with the Crown Prince, to make him fight against Bonaparte, and to her + wisdom may be attributed much of the success which accompanied his attack + upon him. Bernadotte has raised the flame of liberty, which seems + fortunately to blaze all around. May it liberate Europe; and from the + ashes of the laurel may olive branches spring up, and overshadow the + earth!” + </p> + <p> + There's a discuvery! that the overthrow of Boneypart is owing to MADAME DE + STAEL! What nonsince for Colonel Southey or Doctor Napier to write + histories of the war with that Capsican hupstart and murderer, when here + we have the whole affair explaned by the lady of honor! + </p> + <p> + “Sunday, April 10, 1814.—The incidents which take place every hour + are miraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive; subdued, but allowed to + choose his place of residence. The island of Elba is the spot he has + selected for his ignominious retreat. France is holding forth repentant + arms to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. to + the scaffold are presenting flowers to the Emperor of Russia, the restorer + of their legitimate king! What a stupendous field for philosophy to + expatiate in! What an endless material for thought! What humiliation to + the pride of mere human greatness! How are the mighty fallen! Of all that + was great in Napoleon, what remains? Despoiled of his usurped power, he + sinks to insignificance. There was no moral greatness in the man. The + meteor dazzled, scorched, is put out,—utterly, and for ever. But the + power which rests in those who have delivered the nations from bondage, is + a power that is delegated to them from heaven; and the manner in which + they have used it is a guarantee for its continuance. The Duke of + Wellington has gained laurels unstained by any useless flow of blood. He + has done more than conquer others—he has conquered himself: and in + the midst of the blaze and flush of victory, surrounded by the homage of + nations, he has not been betrayed into the commission of any act of + cruelty or wanton offence. He was as cool and self-possessed under the + blaze and dazzle of fame as a common man would be under the shade of his + garden-tree, or by the hearth of his home. But the tyrant who kept Europe + in awe is now a pitiable object for scorn to point the finger of derision + at: and humanity shudders as it remembers the scourge with which this + man's ambition was permitted to devastate every home tie, and every + heartfelt joy.” + </p> + <p> + And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflections and + pious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall only quot one + little extrak more:— + </p> + <p> + “All goes gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell told me + she regrets not seeing all these curious personages; but she says, the + more the princess is forsaken, the more happy she is at having offered to + attend her at this time. THIS IS VERY AMIABLE IN HER, and cannot fail to + be gratifying to the princess.” + </p> + <p> + So it is—wery amiable, wery kind and considerate in her, indeed. + Poor Princess! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you for your + own sake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its back kep steady to + you. As for believing that Lady Sharlot had any hand in this book,* heaven + forbid! she is all gratitude, pure gratitude, depend upon it. SHE would + not go for to blacken her old frend and patron's carrickter, after having + been so outrageously faithful to her; SHE wouldn't do it, at no price, + depend upon it. How sorry she must be that others an't quite so squemish, + and show up in this indesent way the follies of her kind, genrus, foolish + bennyfactris! + </p> + <p> + * The “authorized” announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets this + question at rest. It is declared that her ladyship is not the writer of + the Diary.—O. Y. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. + </h2> + <p> + CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. JOHN THOMAS + SMITH, ESQ., TO C—S Y—H, ESQ. NOTUS. + </p> + <p> + The suckmstansies of the following harticle are as follos:—Me and my + friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each other in the Haymarket + Theatre, during the performints of the new play. I was settn in the + gallery, and sung out to him (he was in the pit), to jine us after the + play, over a glass of bear and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, the family + being out. + </p> + <p> + Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of the comady; and, + after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a letter to the other, + giving our notiums of the pease. Paper was brought that momint; and Smith + writing his harticle across the knife-bord, I dasht off mine on the + dresser. + </p> + <p> + Our agreement was, that I (being remarkabble for my style of riting) + should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up with the plot of + the play; and the candied reader will parding me for having holtered the + original address of my letter, and directed it to Sir Edward himself; and + for having incopperated Smith's remarks in the midst of my own:— + </p> + <p> + MAYFAIR, Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite. + </p> + <p> + HONRABBLE BARNET!—Retired from the littery world a year or moar, I + didn't think anythink would injuice me to come forrards again: for I was + content with my share of reputation, and propoas'd to add nothink to those + immortial wux which have rendered this Magaseen so sallybrated. + </p> + <p> + Shall I tell you the reazn of my re-appearants?—a desire for the + benefick of my fellow-creatures? Fiddlestick! A mighty truth with which my + busm labored, and which I must bring forth or die? Nonsince—stuff: + money's the secret, my dear Barnet,—money—l'argong, gelt, + spicunia. Here's quarter-day coming, and I'm blest if I can pay my + landlud, unless I can ad hartificially to my inkum. + </p> + <p> + This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to blacard the + streets with it, or to tell the British public that Fitzroy Y-ll-wpl-sh is + short of money, or that the sallybrated hauthor of the Y—- Papers is + in peskewniary difficklties, or is fiteagued by his superhuman littery + labors, or by his famly suckmstansies, or by any other pusnal matter: my + maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be as quiet as posbile. What the juice + does the public care for you or me? Why must we always, in prefizzes and + what not, be a-talking about ourselves and our igstrodnary merrats, woas, + and injaries? It is on this subjick that I porpies, my dear Barnet, to + speak to you in a frendly way; and praps you'll find my advise tolrabbly + holesum. + </p> + <p> + Well, then,—if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil, of us + poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like you, Barnet. + I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entry nou, that last stoary I + roat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir as ever was)—I've + had my fling at you; but I like you. One may objeck to an immense deal of + your writings, which, betwigst you and me, contain more sham scentiment, + sham morallaty, sham poatry, than you'd like to own; but, in spite of + this, there's the STUFF in you: you've a kind and loyal heart in you, + Barnet—a trifle deboshed, perhaps; a kean i, igspecially for what's + comic (as for your tradgady, it's mighty flatchulent), and a ready plesnt + pen. The man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don't believe him, + Barnet! not that I suppose you wil,—for, if I've formed a correck + apinion of you from your wucks, you think your small-beear as good as most + men's: every man does,—and why not? We brew, and we love our own tap—amen; + but the pint betwigst us, is this stewpid, absudd way of crying out, + because the public don't like it too. Why shood they, my dear Barnet? You + may vow that they are fools; or that the critix are your enemies; or that + the wuld should judge your poams by your critticle rules, and not their + own: you may beat your breast, and vow you are a marter, and you won't + mend the matter. Take heart, man! you're not so misrabble after all: your + spirits need not be so VERY cast down; you are not so VERY badly paid. I'd + lay a wager that you make, with one thing or another—plays, novvles, + pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and there—your three thowsnd a + year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig that works for less, and lives + content. Why shouldn't you? Three thowsnd a year is no such bad thing,—let + alone the barnetcy: it must be a great comfort to have that bloody hand in + your skitching. + </p> + <p> + But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and fond of a + joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints,—this ceaseless + groning, and moning, and wining of yours, is igsackly the thing which + makes people laff and snear more? If you were ever at a great school, you + must recklect who was the boy most bullid, and buffited, and purshewd—he + who minded it most. He who could take a basting got but few; he who rord + and wep because the knotty boys called him nicknames, was nicknamed wuss + and wuss. I recklect there was at our school, in Smithfield, a chap of + this milksop, spoony sort, who appeared among the romping, ragged fellers + in a fine flanning dressing-gownd, that his mama had given him. That pore + boy was beaten in a way that his dear ma and aunts didn't know him; his + fine flanning dressing-gownd was torn all to ribbings, and he got no pease + in the school ever after, but was abliged to be taken to some other + saminary, where, I make no doubt, he was paid off igsactly in the same + way. + </p> + <p> + Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet? Mutayto nominy—you know + what I mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy is the dressing-gownd. You + dress yourself out finer than other chaps and they all begin to sault and + hustle you; it's human nature, Barnet. You show weakness, think of your + dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry: it's all over with you; the whole + school is at you—upper boys and under, big and little; the dirtiest + little fag in the place will pipe out blaggerd names at you, and takes his + pewny tug at your tail. + </p> + <p> + The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of stowt + shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggymuffins. A good + bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, “Wha dares meddle wi' me?” When + Scott got HIS barnetcy, for instans, did any one of us cry out? No, by the + laws, he was our master; and wo betide the chap that said neigh to him! + But there's barnets and barnets. Do you recklect that fine chapter in + “Squintin Durward,” about the too fellos and cups, at the siege of the + bishop's castle? One of them was a brave warner, and kep HIS cup; they + strangled the other chap—strangled him, and laffed at him too. + </p> + <p> + With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice: brazen it + out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of schoolboys—childish, + greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always ready to fight. What + must be a man's conduck among such? He must either take no notis, and pass + on myjastick, or else turn round and pummle soundly—one, two, right + and left, ding dong over the face and eyes; above all, never acknowledge + that he is hurt. Years ago, for instans (we've no ill-blood, but only + mention this by way of igsample), you began a sparring with this Magaseen. + Law bless you, such a ridicklus gaym I never see: a man so belaybord, + beflustered, bewolloped, was never known; it was the laff of the whole + town. Your intelackshal natur, respected Barnet, is not fizzickly adapted, + so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You must not indulge in combats + with us course bullies of the press: you have not the STAMINY for a reglar + set-to. What, then, is your plan? In the midst of the mob to pass as quiet + as you can: you won't be undistubbed. Who is? Some stray kix and buffits + will fall to you—mortial man is subjick to such; but if you begin to + wins and cry out, and set up for a marter, wo betide you! + </p> + <p> + These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure you, + written in perfick good-natur, and have been inspired by your play of the + “Sea Capting,” and prefiz to it; which latter is on matters intirely + pusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this kind of ad hominam (as + they say) disk-cushion. I propose, honrabble Barnit, to cumsider calmly + this play and prephiz, and to speak of both with that honisty which, in + the pantry or studdy, I've been always phamous for. Let us, in the first + place, listen to the opening of the “Preface of the Fourth Edition:” + </p> + <p> + “No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults and deficiencies + to be found in this play; but, perhaps, when it is considered how very + rarely it has happened in the history of our dramatic literature that good + acting plays have been produced, except by those who have either been + actors themselves, or formed their habits of literature, almost of life, + behind the scenes, I might have looked for a criticism more generous, and + less exacting and rigorous, than that by which the attempts of an author + accustomed to another class of composition have been received by a large + proportion of the periodical press. + </p> + <p> + “It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain faults + of two kinds, first, the faults of one who has necessarily much to learn + in the mechanism of his art; and, secondly, of one who, having written + largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not unfrequently mistake + the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add to these, + perhaps, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health and broken + spirits, which render the author more susceptible than he might have been + some years since to that spirit of depreciation and hostility which it has + been his misfortune to excite amongst the general contributors to the + periodical press for the consciousness that every endeavor will be made to + cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in fine, if possible, to RUN + DOWN, will occasionally haunt even the hours of composition, to check the + inspiration, and damp the ardor. + </p> + <p> + “Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope that I may + ultimately do better, should I continue to write for the stage (which + nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I may yet bring some + little aid to the drama, at a time when any aid, however humble, ought to + be welcome to the lovers of the art, could induce me to do), may I be + permitted to say a few words as to some of the objections which have been + made against this play?” + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put forrards + here, why your play shouldn't be good. + </p> + <p> + First. Good plays are almost always written by actors. + </p> + <p> + Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. + </p> + <p> + Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade, and + not a play-writer. + </p> + <p> + Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. + </p> + <p> + Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. + </p> + <p> + For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these,—what painful + pewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven or eight + and thutty years old—“in the morning of youth,” as the flosofer + says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What, you, an + old hand amongst us,—an old soljer of our sovring quean the press,—you, + who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay, and DESERVED + them too!—I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, “I AM a man + of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says so”),—you to lose heart, and cry + pickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys fling stones at you! Fie, + man! take courage; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, as the + poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man, or bear + your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such misrabble + lodgic as that above. + </p> + <p> + What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (the + secknd is naught,—for your no such chicking at play-writing, this + being the forth). You show that the play must be bad, and THEN begin to + deal with the critix for finding folt! + </p> + <p> + Was there ever wuss generalship? The play IS bad,—your right—a + wuss I never see or read. But why kneed YOU say so? If it was so VERY bad, + why publish it? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO SERVE THE DRAMA! O fie! don't lay that + flattering function to your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believe that + this “Sea Capting” can serve the drama? Did you never intend that it + should serve anything, or anybody ELSE? Of cors you did! You wrote it for + money,—money from the maniger, money from the bookseller,—for + the same reason that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very same + reasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Away + with this canting about great motifs! Let us not be too prowd, my dear + Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters or apostels. We + are but tradesmen, working for bread, and not for righteousness' sake. + Let's try and work honestly; but don't let us be prayting pompisly about + our “sacred calling.” The taylor who makes your coats (and very well they + are made too, with the best of velvit collars)—I say Stulze, or + Nugee, might cry out that THEIR motifs were but to assert the eturnle + truth of tayloring, with just as much reazn; and who would believe them? + </p> + <p> + Well; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come sefral pages + of attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry have found with it. + With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You defend all the characters 1 + by 1, and conclude your remarks as follows:— + </p> + <p> + “I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs. When every + means is employed to misrepresent, it becomes, perhaps, allowable to + explain. And if I do not think that my faults as a dramatic author are to + be found in the study and delineation of character, it is precisely + because THAT is the point on which all my previous pursuits in literature + and actual life would be most likely to preserve me from the errors I own + elsewhere, whether of misjudgment or inexperience. + </p> + <p> + “I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and talent + with which they have embodied the characters entrusted to them. The + sweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit embellished the part of Violet, + which, though only a sketch, is most necessary to the coloring and harmony + of the play, were perhaps the more pleasing to the audience from the + generosity, rare with actors, which induced her to take a part so far + inferior to her powers. The applause which attends the performance of Mrs. + Warner and Mr. Strickland attests their success in characters of unusual + difficulty; while the singular beauty and nobleness, whether of conception + or execution, with which the greatest of living actors has elevated the + part of Norman (so totally different from his ordinary range of + character), is a new proof of his versatility and accomplishment in all + that belongs to his art. It would be scarcely gracious to conclude these + remarks without expressing my acknowledgment of that generous and + indulgent sense of justice which, forgetting all political differences in + a literary arena, has enabled me to appeal to approving audiences—from + hostile critics. And it is this which alone encourages me to hope that, + sooner or later, I may add to the dramatic literature of my country + something that may find, perhaps, almost as many friends in the next age + as it has been the fate of the author to find enemies in this.” + </p> + <p> + See, now, what a good comfrabble vanaty is! Pepple have quarld with the + dramatic characters of your play. “No,” says you; “if I AM remarkabble for + anythink, it's for my study and delineation of character; THAT is + presizely the pint to which my littery purshuits have led me.” Have you + read “Jil Blaw,” my dear sir? Have you pirouzed that exlent tragady, the + “Critic?” There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and the + Archbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't laff till my sides + ake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which you are famus!—the + roags! And spose they had said the plot was absudd, or the langwitch + absudder still, don't you think you would have had a word in defens of + them too—you who hope to find frends for your dramatic wux in the + nex age? Poo! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will be wiser and + better than this; and do you think that it will imply itself a reading of + your trajadies? This is misantrofy, Barnet—reglar Byronism; and you + ot to have a better apinian of human natur. + </p> + <p> + Your apinion about the actors I shan't here meddle with. They all acted + exlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your write in giving + them all possible prays. But let's consider the last sentence of the + prefiz, my dear Barnet, and see what a pretty set of apiniuns you lay + down. + </p> + <p> + 1. The critix are your inymies in this age. + </p> + <p> + 2. In the nex, however, you hope to find newmrous frends. + </p> + <p> + 3. And it's a satisfackshn to think that, in spite of politticle + diffrances, you have found frendly aujences here. + </p> + <p> + Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with what my friend + Father Prout calls an argamantum ad misericorjam, who ignowledges that his + play is bad, that his pore dear helth is bad, and those cussid critix have + played the juice with him—I say, for a man who beginns in such a + humbill toan, it's rather RICH to see how you end. + </p> + <p> + My dear Barnet, DO you suppose that POLITTICLE DIFFRANCES prejudice pepple + against YOU? What ARE your politix? Wig, I presume—so are mine, + ontry noo. And what if they ARE Wig, or Raddiccle, or Cumsuvvative? Does + any mortial man in England care a phig for your politix? Do you think + yourself such a mity man in parlymint, that critix are to be angry with + you, and aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because they treat you + fairly? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat the “Rifles” and “School for + Scandle” (I saw the “Rifles” after your play, and, O Barnet, if you KNEW + what a relief it was!)—there, I say, was Sherridn—he WAS a + politticle character, if you please—he COULD make a spitch or two—do + you spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third himself, + wooden go to see the “Rivles”—ay, and clap hands too, and laff and + ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery? Do you spose the critix wouldn't applaud + too? For shame, Barnet! what ninnis, what hartless raskles, you must + beleave them to be,—in the fust plase, to fancy that you are a + politticle genus; in the secknd, to let your politix interfear with their + notiums about littery merits! + </p> + <p> + “Put that nonsince out of your head,” as Fox said to Bonypart. Wasn't it + that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's time, who fansid + that the French king wooden make pease unless Dennis was delivered up to + him? Upon my wud, I doan't think he carrid his diddlusion much further + than a serting honrabble barnet of my aquentance. + </p> + <p> + And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another diddlusion; a + gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y—sh. These plays + immortial? Ah, parrysampe, as the French say, this is too strong—the + small-beer of the “Sea Capting,” or of any suxessor of the “Sea Capting,” + to keep sweet for sentries and sentries! Barnet, Barnet! do you know the + natur of bear? Six weeks is not past, and here your last casque is sour—the + public won't even now drink it; and I lay a wager that, betwigst this day + (the thuttieth November) and the end of the year, the barl will be off the + stox altogether, never, never to return. + </p> + <p> + I've notted down a few frazes here and there, which you will do well do + igsamin:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “The eternal Flora + Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind; + While circling round and upwards from the boughs, + Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, + Melody, like a happy soul released, + Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes + Shakes sweetness down!” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “And these the lips + Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss + Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left + By ANGELS when they touch the earth and vanish.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “Hark! she has blessed her son! I bid ye witness, + Ye listening heavens—thou circumambient air: + The ocean sighs it back—and with the murmur + Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes + Aloud—aloft—to the Great Parent's ear, + The blessing of the mother on her child.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart + Mingled with mine—a deathless heritage, + Which I can take unsullied to the STARS, + When the Great Father calls his children home.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “The blue air, breathless in the STARRY peace, + After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled + With happy thoughts as heaven with ANGELS.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “Till one calm night, when over earth and wave + Heaven looked its love from all its numberless STARS.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “Those eyes, the guiding STARS by which I steered.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “That great mother + (The only parent I have known), whose face + Is bright with gazing ever on the STARS— + The mother-sea.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “My bark shall be our home; + The STARS that light the ANGEL palaces + Of air, our lamps.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + NORMAN. + + “A name that glitters, like a STAR, amidst + The galaxy of England's loftiest born.” + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + LADY ARUNDEL. + + “And see him princeliest of the lion tribe, + Whose swords and coronals gleam around the throne, + The guardian STARS of the imperial isle.” + </pre> + <p> + The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the papers, as real, + reglar poatry. Those wickid critix! they must have been laffing in their + sleafs when they quoted it. Malody, suckling round and uppards from the + bows, like a happy soul released, hangs in the air, and from invizable + plumes shakes sweetness down. Mighty fine, truly! but let mortial man tell + the meannink of the passidge. Is it MUSICKLE sweetniss that Malody shakes + down from its plumes—its wings, that is, or tail—or some + pekewliar scent that proceeds from happy souls released, and which they + shake down from the trees when they are suckling round and uppards? IS + this poatry, Barnet? Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly: Is + it poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, and + won't bear the commanest test of comman sence? + </p> + <p> + In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though in a more + comprehensable way: the air, the leaves, the otion, are fild with emocean + at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore Nature is dragged in to partisapate in + his joys, just as she has been befor. Once in a poem, this universle + simfithy is very well; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet: and that once + should be in some great suckmstans, surely,—such as the meeting of + Adam and Eve, in “Paradice Lost,” or Jewpeter and Jewno, in Hoamer, where + there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. But sea-captings should not be + eternly spowting and invoking gods, hevns, starrs, angels, and other + silestial influences. We can all do it, Barnet; nothing in life is esier. + I can compare my livry buttons to the stars, or the clouds of my backopipe + to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna; or I can say that angels + are looking down from them, and the tobacco silf, like a happy sole + released, is circling round and upwards, and shaking sweetness down. All + this is as esy as drink; but it's not poatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, + when their mothers reckonize them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, + and paws to think of the happy leaves a-rustling—at least, one + mistrusts them if they do. Take another instans out of your own play. + Capting Norman (with his eternil SLACK-JAW!) meets the gal of his art:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Look up, look up, my Violet—weeping? fie! + And trembling too—yet leaning on my breast. + In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter. + Look up! I come to woo thee to the seas, + My sailor's bride! Hast thou no voice but blushes? + Nay—From those roses let me, like the bee, + Drag forth the secret sweetness! +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + VIOLET. + + “Oh what thoughts + Were kept for SPEECH when we once more should meet, + Now blotted from the PAGE; and all I feel + Is—THOU art with me!” + </pre> + <p> + Very right, Miss Violet—the scentiment is natral, affeckshnit, + pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge, and no + harm done); but never mind, the feeling is pritty; and I can fancy, my + dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weeping lass, looking up in a man's face + and saying it. But the capting!—oh, this capting!—this windy, + spouting captain, with his prittinesses, and conseated apollogies for the + hardness of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies, and his wishes + to be a bee! Pish! Men don't make love in this finniking way. It's the + part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a galliant gentleman, in + command of one of her Madjisty's vessels of war. + </p> + <p> + Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknollidge that Capting + Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with his endless jabber about stars + and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist of Lady Arundel's spitch, + too, who, in the corse of three lines, has made her son a prince, a lion, + with a sword and coronal, and a star. Why jumble and sheak up metafors in + this way? Barnet, one simily is quite enuff in the best of sentenses (and + I preshume I kneedn't tell you that it's as well to have it LIKE, when you + are about it). Take my advise, honrabble sir—listen to a humble + footmin: it's genrally best in poatry to understand puffickly what you + mean yourself, and to ingspress your meaning clearly afterwoods—in + the simpler words the better, praps. You may, for instans, call a coronet + a coronal (an “ancestral coronal,” p. 74) if you like, as you might call a + hat a “swart sombrero,” “a glossy four-and-nine,” “a silken helm, to storm + impermeable, and lightsome as the breezy gossamer;” but, in the long run, + it's as well to call it a hat. It IS a hat; and that name is quite as + poetticle as another. I think it's Playto, or els Harrystottle, who + observes that what we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. + Confess, now, dear Barnet, don't you long to call it a Polyanthus? + </p> + <p> + I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry you seem to + have bean, that you have actially in some sentences forgot to put in the + sence. What is this, for instance?— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “This thrice precious one + Smiled to my eyes—drew being from my breast— + Slept in my arms;—the very tears I shed + Above my treasures were to men and angels + Alike such holy sweetness!” + </pre> + <p> + In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked—Raphael, + Gabriel, Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael—what does this “holy sweetness” + mean? We're not spinxes to read such durk conandrums. If you knew my state + sins I came upon this passidg—I've neither slep nor eton; I've + neglected my pantry; I've been wandring from house to house with this + riddl in my hand, and nobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are + wild, looking gloomy at one another, and asking what this may be. All the + cumtributors have been spoak to. The Doctor, who knows every languitch, + has tried and giv'n up; we've sent to Docteur Pettigruel, who reads + horyglifics a deal ezier than my way of spellin'—no anser. Quick! + quick with a fifth edition, honored Barnet, and set us at rest! While your + about it, please, too, to igsplain the two last lines:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “His merry bark with England's flag to crown her.” + </pre> + <p> + See what dellexy of igspreshn, “a flag to crown her!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “His merry bark with England's flag to crown her, + Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares.” + </pre> + <p> + Likewise the following:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Girl, beware, + THE LOVE THAT TRIFLES ROUND THE CHARMS IT GILDS + OFT RUINS WHILE IT SHINES.” + </pre> + <p> + Igsplane this, men and angels! I've tried every way; backards, forards, + and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The love that ruins round the charms it shines, + Gilds while it trifles oft; +</pre> + <p> + Or, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, + Oft trifles while it shines; +</pre> + <p> + Or, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The ruins that love gilds and shines around, + Oft trifles where it charms; +</pre> + <p> + Or, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, + The trifles that it gilds; +</pre> + <p> + Or, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, + While round the charms it shines. +</pre> + <p> + All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. + </p> + <p> + And with this I'll alow my friend Smith, who has been silent all this + time, to say a few words. He has not written near so much as me (being an + infearor genus, betwigst ourselves), but he says he never had such mortial + difficklty with anything as with the dixcripshn of the plott of your + pease. Here his letter:— + </p> + <p> + To CH-RL-S F-TZR-Y PL-NT-G-N-T Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., &c. &c. + </p> + <p> + 30th Nov. 1839. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR AND HONORED SIR,—I have the pleasure of laying before you + the following description of the plot, and a few remarks upon the style of + the piece called “The Sea Captain.” + </p> + <p> + Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a daughter, heiress + of his estates and property; a poor cousin, Sir Maurice Beevor (being next + in succession); and a page, Arthur Le Mesnil by name. + </p> + <p> + The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young persons were married + unknown to his lordship. + </p> + <p> + Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that period + favorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed to run away + together, and had reached a chapel near on the sea-coast, from which they + were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put a stop to their proceedings + by causing one Gaussen, a pirate, to murder the page. + </p> + <p> + His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three days, gave + birth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of this birth I cannot say; the + infant, however, was never acknowledged, but carried by Sir Maurice Beevor + to a priest, Onslow by name, who educated the lad and kept him for twelve + years in profound ignorance of his birth. The boy went by the name of + Norman. + </p> + <p> + Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a widow, but had a + second son, who was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord Ashdale. Old + Lord Arundel died, and her ladyship became countess in her own right. + </p> + <p> + When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who wished to “WAFT + young Arthur to a distant land,” had him sent on board ship. Who should + the captain of the ship be but Gaussen, who received a smart bribe from + Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the lad. Accordingly, Gaussen tied him to a + plank, and pitched him overboard. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + . . . . . . +</pre> + <p> + About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan niece of + Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass a few weeks with her ladyship. + She had just come from a sea-voyage, and had been saved from a wicked + Algerine by an English sea captain. This sea captain was no other than + Norman, who had been picked up off his plank, and fell in love with, and + was loved by, Miss Violet. + </p> + <p> + A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain came to pay + her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady Arundel's + residence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue Gaussen's ship anchored + in the harbor too. Gaussen at once knew his man, for he had “tracked” him, + (after drowning him,) and he informed Sir Maurice Beevor that young Norman + was alive. + </p> + <p> + Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should she get rid of him? + In this wise. He was in love with Violet, let him marry her and be off; + for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin too; and, of course, could + not marry a young woman in her station of life. “You have a chaplain on + board,” says her ladyship to Captain Norman; “let him attend to-night in + the ruined chapel, marry Violet, and away with you to sea.” By this means + she hoped to be quit of him forever. + </p> + <p> + But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor, and + reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel and carry off + Violet; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel to kill both Ashdale + and Norman; thus there would only be Lady Arundel between him and the + title. + </p> + <p> + Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the chapel, had just + seen his worthy old friend, the priest, most barbarously murdered there. + Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon him; his reverence was coming with + the papers concerning Norman's birth, which Beevor wanted in order to + extort money from the countess. Gaussen was, however, obliged to run + before he got the papers; and the clergyman had time, before he died, to + tell Norman the story, and give him the documents, with which Norman sped + off to the castle to have an interview with his mother. + </p> + <p> + He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to be left alone + with her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room, surlily quits it; + but, going out, cunningly puts on Norman's cloak. “It will be dark,” says + he, “down at the chapel; Violet won't know me; and, egad! I'll run off + with her!” + </p> + <p> + Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges him, for she cannot + help it; but will not embrace him, love him, or have anything to do with + him. + </p> + <p> + Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there waiting to marry him to + Violet, his boat was there to carry him on board his ship, and Violet was + there, too. + </p> + <p> + “Norman,” says she, in the dark, “dear Norman, I knew you by your white + cloak; here I am.” And she and the man in a cloak go off to the inner + chapel to be married. + </p> + <p> + There waits Master Gaussen; he has seized the chaplain and the boat's + crew, and is just about to murder the man in the cloak, when— + </p> + <p> + NORMAN rushes in and cuts him down, much to the surprise of Miss, for she + never suspected it was sly Ashdale who had come, as we have seen, + disguised, and very nearly paid for his masquerading. + </p> + <p> + Ashdale is very grateful; but, when Norman persists in marrying Violet, he + says—no, he shan't. He shall fight; he is a coward if he doesn't + fight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he WON'T fight; and— + </p> + <p> + Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rushing in, says, + “Hold! this is your brother, Percy—your elder brother!” Here is some + restiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by embracing his brother. + </p> + <p> + Norman burns all the papers; vows he will never peach; reconciles himself + with his mother; says he will go loser; but, having ordered his ship to + “veer” round to the chapel, orders it to veer back again, for he will pass + the honeymoon at Arundel Castle. + </p> + <p> + As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that there are + one or two very good notions in this plot. But the author does not fail, + as he would modestly have us believe, from ignorance of stage-business; he + seems to know too much, rather than too little, about the stage; to be too + anxious to cram in effects, incidents, perplexities. There is the + perplexity concerning Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and the + priest's murder, and the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. There is the + perplexity about the papers, and that about the hat and cloak, (a silly, + foolish obstacle,) which only tantalize the spectator, and retard the + march of the drama's action: it is as if the author had said, “I must have + a new incident in every act, I must keep tickling the spectator + perpetually, and never let him off until the fall of the curtain.” + </p> + <p> + The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of intrigue you may + remark in the author's drama of “Richelieu.” “The Lady of Lyons” was a + much simpler and better wrought plot; the incidents following each other + either not too swiftly or startlingly. In “Richelieu,” it always seemed to + me as if one heard doors perpetually clapping and banging; one was puzzled + to follow the train of conversation, in the midst of the perpetual small + noises that distracted one right and left. + </p> + <p> + Nor is the list of characters of “The Sea Captain” to be despised. The + outlines of all of them are good. A mother, for whom one feels a proper + tragic mixture of hatred and pity; a gallant single-hearted son, whom she + disdains, and who conquers her at last by his noble conduct; a dashing + haughty Tybalt of a brother; a wicked poor cousin, a pretty maid, and a + fierce buccaneer. These people might pass three hours very well on the + stage, and interest the audience hugely; but the author fails in filling + up the outlines. His language is absurdly stilted, frequently careless; + the reader or spectator hears a number of loud speeches, but scarce a + dozen lines that seem to belong of nature to the speakers. + </p> + <p> + Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the continual + sham-religious clap-traps which the author has put into the mouth of his + hero; nothing more unsailor-like than his namby-pamby starlit + descriptions, which my ingenious colleague has, I see, alluded to. “Thy + faith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven,” cries the gallant captain to + his lady. See how loosely the sentence is constructed, like a thousand + others in the book. The captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faith in + her own eyes; either image might pass by itself, but together, like the + quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The captain tells his + lieutenant to BID HIS BARK VEER ROUND to a point in the harbor. Was ever + such language? My lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand pounds to WAFT him + (her son) to some distant shore. Nonsense, sheer nonsense; and what is + worse, affected nonsense! + </p> + <p> + Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. “There is a great deal of game on + the estate—partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and plovers + (SMACKING HIS LIPS)—besides a magnificent preserve of sparrows, + which I can sell TO THE LITTLE BLACKGUARDS in the streets at a penny a + hundred. But I am very poor—a very poor old knight!” + </p> + <p> + Is this wit or nature? It is a kind of sham wit; it reads as if it were + wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the little blackguard + boys! what flimsy ecstasies and silly “smacking of lips” about the + plovers. Is this the man who writes for the next age? O fie! Here is + another joke:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Sir Maurice. Mice! zounds, how can I + Keep mice! I can't afford it! They were starved + To death an age ago. The last was found + Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone + In that same larder, so consumed and worn + By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it! + I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, + And set it in the porch—a solemn warning + To thieves and beggars!” + </pre> + <p> + Is not this rare wit? “Zounds! how can I keep mice?” is well enough for a + miser; not too new, or brilliant either; but this miserable dilution of a + thin joke, this wretched hunting down of the poor mouse! It is humiliating + to think of a man of esprit harping so long on such a mean, pitiful + string. A man who aspires to immortality, too! I doubt whether it is to be + gained thus; whether our author's words are not too loosely built to make + “starry pointing pyramids of.” Horace clipped and squared his blocks more + carefully before he laid the monument which imber edax, or aquila + impotens, or fuga temporum might assail in vain. Even old Ovid, when he + raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had placed some columns in it, + and hewn out a statue or two which deserved the immortality that he + prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself. But let not all be looking + forward to a future, and fancying that, “incerti spatium dum finiat aevi,” + our books are to be immortal. Alas! the way to immortality is not so easy, + nor will our “Sea Captain” be permitted such an unconscionable cruise. If + all the immortalities were really to have their wish, what a work would + our descendants have to study them all! + </p> + <p> + Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved this + deathless consummation. There will come a day (may it be long distant!) + when the very best of his novels will be forgotten; and it is reasonable + to suppose that his dramas will pass out of existence, some time or other, + in the lapse of the secula seculorum. In the meantime, my dear Plush, if + you ask me what the great obstacle is towards the dramatic fame and merit + of our friend, I would say that it does not lie so much in hostile critics + or feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, and a peevish vanity + which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. The question of original + capacity I will not moot; one may think very highly of the honorable + baronet's talent, without rating it quite so high as he seems disposed to + do. + </p> + <p> + And to conclude: as he has chosen to combat the critics in person, the + critics are surely justified in being allowed to address him directly. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, + I have the honor to be, dear Sir, + Your most faithful and obliged + humble servant, + JOHN THOMAS SMITH. +</pre> + <p> + And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I think I can't do better than + clothes mine lickwise; for though I should never be tired of talking, + praps the public may of hearing, and therefore it's best to shut up shopp. + </p> + <p> + What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take unkind. A play, + you see, is public property for every one to say his say on; and I think, + if you read your prefez over agin, you'll see that it ax as a direct + incouridgment to us critix to come forrard and notice you. But don't + fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiated by hostillaty; fust write a + good play, and you'll see we'll prays it fast enuff. Waiting which, Agray, + Munseer le Chevaleer, l'ashurance de ma hot cumsideratun. + </p> + <p> + Voter distangy, + </p> + <p> + Y. <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MR. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush + The Yellowplush Papers + +Author: William Makepeace Thackeray + +Posting Date: January 10, 2009 [EBook #2796] +Release Date: September, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MR. YELLOWPLUSH *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Lainson + + + + + +MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + + +By William Makepeace Thackeray + + + +CONTENTS + + + MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND + + THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE + + FORING PARTS + + MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS:-- + + CHAP. I. The Two Bundles of Hay + + II. "Honor thy Father" + + III. Minewvring + + IV. "Hitting the Nale on the Hedd" + + V. The Griffin's Claws + + VI. The Jewel + + VII. The Consquinsies + + VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo + + IX. The Marriage + + X. The Honey-moon + + MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW + + SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV." + + EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI + + + + + +MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + + + + +MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and am, in +consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me Charles James +Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to several noble families, +and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, +and drove the Lord Mayor of London. + +Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the name of +a part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through life, in which I +was, as it were, a footman by buth. + +Praps he was my father--though on this subjict I can't speak suttinly, +for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be illygitmit, I may +have been changed at nuss; but I've always had genlmnly tastes through +life, and have no doubt that I come of a genlmnly origum. + +The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creatur was +very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in her. +Why, I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led a strange +life; sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and sometimes in rags +and dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes kix; sometimes gin, +and sometimes shampang; law bless us! how she used to swear at me, and +cuddle me; there we were, quarrelling and making up, sober and tipsy, +starving and guttling by turns, just as ma got money or spent it. +But let me draw a vail over the seen, and speak of her no more--its +'sfishant for the public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, +and we lived in the New Cut. + +My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her! and I was left alone +in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy me a penny +roal for my brexfast. But there was some amongst our naybors (and let me +tell you there's more kindness among them poor disrepettable creaturs, +than in half a dozen lords or barrynets) who took pity upon poor Sal's +orfin (for they bust out laffin when I called her Miss Montmorency), and +gev me bred and shelter. I'm afraid, in spite of their kindness, that +my MORRILS wouldn't have improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But a +benny-violent genlmn saw me, and put me to school. The academy which I +went to was called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less--the +young genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsisnames, a tin +plate on the left arm, and a cap about the size of a muffing. I stayed +there sicks years; from sicks, that is to say, till my twelth year, +during three years of witch I distinguished myself not a little in the +musicle way, for I bloo the bellus of the church horgin, and very fine +tunes we played too. + +Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what trix we +used to play the applewoman! and how we put snuff in the old clark's +Prayer-book--my eye!); but one day, a genlmn entered the school-room--it +was on the very day when I went to subtraxion--and asked the master for +a young lad for a servant. They pitched upon me glad enough; and nex +day found me sleeping in the sculry, close under the sink, at Mr. Bago's +country-house at Pentonwille. + +Bago kep a shop in Smithfield market, and drov a taring good trade in +the hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he cleared no less +than fifty pounds every year by letting his front room at hanging time. +His winders looked right opsit Newgit, and many and many dozen chaps has +he seen hanging there. Laws was laws in the year ten, and they screwed +chaps' nex for nex to nothink. But my bisniss was at his country-house, +where I made my first ontray into fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, +and stable-boy then, and an't ashamed to own it; for my merrits have +raised me to what I am--two livries, forty pound a year, malt-licker, +washin, silk-stocking, and wax candles--not countin wails, which is +somethink pretty considerable at OUR house, I can tell you. + +I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got me a very +different situation. A handsome young genlmn, who kep a tilbry and a +ridin horse at livry, wanted a tiger. I bid at once for the place; and, +being a neat tidy-looking lad, he took me. Bago gave me a character, and +he my first livry; proud enough I was of it, as you may fancy. + +My new master had some business in the city, for he went in every +morning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, and had it +waiting for him at six; when, if it was summer, he spanked round into +the Park, and drove one of the neatest turnouts there. Wery proud I was +in a gold-laced hat, a drab coat and a red weskit, to sit by his side, +when he drove. I already began to ogle the gals in the carridges, and to +feel that longing for fashionabl life which I've had ever since. When +he was at the oppera, or the play, down I went to skittles, or to White +Condick Gardens; and Mr. Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, I +warrant: to be sure there is very few man-servants at Pentonwille, the +poppylation being mostly gals of all work; and so, though only fourteen, +I was as much a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem. + +But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was such a gay +chap, should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-floor in John +Street--a parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way, and only came in +with his boots and brexfast of a morning. + +The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. They were a poor +but proliffic couple, who had rented the place for many years; and they +and their family were squeezed in it pretty tight, I can tell you. + +Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been a +sub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such think; and, as +I heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave on account of his +NERVOUSNESS. He was such a coward, the fact is, that he was considered +dangerous to the harmy, and sent home. + +He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss Slamcoe. She was +a Bristol gal; and her father being a bankrup in the tallow-chandlering +way, left, in course, a pretty little sum of money. A thousand pound +was settled on her; and she was as high and mighty as if it had been a +millium. + +Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly daughters by +Miss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther a narrow income for +one of her appytite and pretensions. In an unlucky hour for Shum she +met him. He was a widower with a little daughter of three years old, +a little house at Pentonwille, and a little income about as big as her +own. I believe she bullyd the poor creature into marridge; and it was +agreed that he should let his ground-floor at John Street, and so add +somethink to their means. + +They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I can +tell you. She was always talking and blustering about her famly, the +celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the Slamcoes. They +had a six-roomed house (not counting kitching and sculry), and now +twelve daughters in all; whizz.--4 Miss Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, Miss +Dosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny; 1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum's +daughter, and seven others, who shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum was a fat, +red-haired woman, at least a foot taller than S.; who was but a yard and +a half high, pale-faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose +and shut-frill all brown with snuff. + +Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly was +all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged to be +done by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each, and four +small goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of linning or other. +The hall was a regular puddle: wet dabs of dishclouts flapped in your +face; soapy smoking bits of flanning went nigh to choke you; and while +you were looking up to prevent hanging yourself with the ropes which +were strung across and about, slap came the hedge of a pail against your +shins, till one was like to be drove mad with hagony. The great slattnly +doddling girls was always on the stairs, poking about with nasty +flower-pots, a-cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seats +with greasy curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An infernal pianna was +jingling from morning till night--two eldest Miss Buckmasters, "Battle +of Prag"--six youngest Miss Shums, "In my Cottage," till I knew every +note in the "Battle of Prag," and cussed the day when "In my Cottage" +was rote. The younger girls, too, were always bouncing and thumping +about the house, with torn pinnyfores, and dogs-eard grammars, and large +pieces of bread and treacle. I never see such a house. + +As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink but +lay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold, scream, and go +into hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old newspaper from weeks' end +to weeks' end, when he was not engaged in teaching the children, or goin +for the beer, or cleanin the shoes: for they kep no servant. This house +in John Street was in short a regular Pandymony. + +What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a place? +The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum. + +And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other daughters +were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty little pink, +modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue eyes, and a neck +as white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal old black gownd, which +had grown too short for her, and too tight; but it only served to show +her pretty angles and feet, and bewchus figger. Master, though he had +looked rather low for the gal of his art, had certainly looked in the +right place. Never was one more pretty or more hamiable. I gav her +always the buttered toast left from our brexfust, and a cup of tea or +chocklate, as Altamont might fancy: and the poor thing was glad enough +of it, I can vouch; for they had precious short commons up stairs, and +she the least of all. + +For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the poor +thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at her. It was, +Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the public-house for the +beer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean stockens out walking, or your +new bonnet to church. Only her poor father was kind to her; and he, poor +old muff! his kindness was of no use. Mary bore all the scolding like +a hangel, as she was: no, not if she had a pair of wings and a goold +trumpet, could she have been a greater hangel. + +I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when Master was +in the city; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I happened to be +listening on the stairs. The old scolding was a-going on, and the old +tune of that hojus "Battle of Prag." Old Shum made some remark; and Miss +Buckmaster cried out, "Law, pa! what a fool you are!" All the gals began +laffin, and so did Mrs. Shum; all, that is, excep Mary, who turned as +red as flams, and going up to Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two such +wax on her great red ears as made them tingle again. + +Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger. Her great +arms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cuffed and thumped +poor Mary for taking her pa's part. Mary Shum, who was always a-crying +before, didn't shed a tear now. "I will do it again," she said, "if +Betsy insults my father." New thumps, new shreex; and the old horridan +went on beatin the poor girl till she was quite exosted, and fell down +on the sophy, puffin like a poppus. + +"For shame, Mary," began old Shum; "for shame, you naughty gal, you! for +hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating your kind sister." + +"Why, it was because she called you a--" + +"If she did, you pert miss," said Shum, looking mighty dignitified, "I +could correct her, and not you." + +"You correct me, indeed!" said Miss Betsy, turning up her nose, if +possible, higher than before; "I should like to see you erect me! +Imperence!" and they all began laffin again. + +By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her exsize, and she +began to pour in HER wolly. Fust she called Mary names, then Shum. + +"Oh, why," screeched she, "why did I ever leave a genteel famly, where +I ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a creatur like this? He is +unfit to be called a man, he is unworthy to marry a gentlewoman; and as +for that hussy, I disown her. Thank heaven she an't a Slamcoe; she is +only fit to be a Shum!" + +"That's true, mamma," said all the gals; for their mother had taught +them this pretty piece of manners, and they despised their father +heartily: indeed, I have always remarked that, in famlies where the wife +is internally talking about the merits of her branch, the husband is +invariably a spooney. + +Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the sofy, at her old +trix--more screeching--more convulshuns: and she wouldn't stop, this +time, till Shum had got her half a pint of her old remedy, from the +"Blue Lion" over the way. She grew more easy as she finished the gin; +but Mary was sent out of the room, and told not to come back agin all +day. + +"Miss Mary," says I,--for my heart yurned to the poor gal, as she came +sobbing and miserable down stairs: "Miss Mary," says I, "if I might make +so bold, here's master's room empty, and I know where the cold bif and +pickles is." "Oh, Charles!" said she, nodding her head sadly, "I'm too +retched to have any happytite." And she flung herself on a chair, and +began to cry fit to bust. + +At this moment who should come in but my master. I had taken hold of +Miss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I should have kist it, when, +as I said, Haltamont made his appearance. "What's this?" cries he, +lookin at me as black as thunder, or as Mr. Phillips as Hickit, in the +new tragedy of MacBuff. + +"It's only Miss Mary, sir," answered I. + +"Get out, sir," says he, as fierce as posbil; and I felt somethink (I +think it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and found myself, +nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets and things. + +The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, as I was +cussin and crying out. "It's only Charles, ma," screamed out Miss Betsy. + +"Where's Mary?" says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy. + +"She's in Master's room, miss," said I. + +"She's in the lodger's room, ma," cries Miss Shum, heckoing me. + +"Very good; tell her to stay there till he comes back." And then Miss +Shum went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing of Haltamont's +return. + + . . . . . . + +I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after Mary +Shum; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake that he took +and kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the sake of love, which +is above being mersnary, fourteen shillings a wick was a LITTLE too +strong for two such rat-holes as he lived in. I do blieve the famly +had nothing else but their lodger to live on: they brekfisted off his +tea-leaves, they cut away pounds and pounds of meat from his jints (he +always dined at home), and his baker's bill was at least enough for six. +But that wasn't my business. I saw him grin, sometimes, when I laid down +the cold bif of a morning, to see how little was left of yesterday's +sirline; but he never said a syllabub: for true love don't mind a pound +of meat or so hextra. + +At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals; Miss Betsy, +in partickler, grew mighty fond of him: they sat, for whole evenings, +playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her tea and muffing; +but as it was improper for her to come alone, she brought one of her +sisters, and this was genrally Mary,--for he made a pint of asking her, +too,--and one day, when one of the others came instead, he told her, +very quitely, that he hadn't invited her; and Miss Buckmaster was too +fond of muffings to try this game on again: besides, she was jealous of +her three grown sisters, and considered Mary as only a child. Law bless +us! how she used to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play "Meet +Me by Moonlike," on an old gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head: +but he wouldn't have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere. + +One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for +"Ashley's," and proposed to take the two young ladies--Miss Betsy and +Miss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me aside that afternoon, +assuming a solamon and misterus hare, "Charles," said he, "ARE YOU UP TO +SNUFF?" + +"Why sir," said I, "I'm genrally considered tolerably downy." + +"Well," says he, "I'll give you half a suffering if you can manage this +bisness for me; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. When the theatre is +over, you must be waitin with two umbrellows; give me one, and hold the +other over Miss Buckmaster: and, hark ye, sir, TURN TO THE RIGHT when +you leave the theater, and say the coach is ordered to stand a little +way up the street, in order to get rid of the crowd." + +We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit Cartliche's +hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble! talk of Magreedy! +Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in the principal part. But this +is nothink to the porpus. When the play was over, I was at the door with +the umbrellos. It was raining cats and dogs, sure enough. + +Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his arm, and Miss +Betsy following behind, rayther sulky. "This way, sir," cries I, pushin +forward; and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy, fit to smother her. +Mr. A. and Miss Mary skipped on and was out of sight when Miss Betsy's +cloak was settled, you may be sure. + +"They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the street, +away from the crowd of carridges." And off we turned TO THE RIGHT, and +no mistake. + +After marchin a little through the plash and mud, "Has anybody seen +Coxy's fly?" cries I, with the most innocent haxent in the world. + +"Cox's fly!" hollows out one chap. "Is it the vaggin you want?" says +another. "I see the blackin wan pass," giggles out another gentlmn; and +there was such a hinterchange of compliments as you never heerd. I pass +them over though, because some of 'em were not wery genteel. + +"Law, miss," said I, "what shall I do? My master will never forgive me; +and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a coach." Miss Betsy was just +going to call one when I said that; but the coachman wouldn't have it at +that price, he said, and I knew very well that SHE hadn't four or five +shillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in the midst of that tarin rain, +at midnight, we had to walk four miles, from Westminster Bridge to +Pentonwille; and what was wuss, I DIDN'T HAPPEN TO KNOW THE WAY. A very +nice walk it was, and no mistake. + +At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My master was at the +garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms, while master begun +cussin and swearing at me for disobeying his orders, and TURNING TO THE +RIGHT INSTEAD OF TO THE LEFT! Law bless me! his hacting of hanger was +very near as natral and as terrybl as Mr. Cartlich's in the play. + +They had waited half an hour, he said, in the fly, in the little street +at the left of the theater; they had drove up and down in the greatest +fright possible; and at last came home, thinking it was in vain to wait +any more. They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and roast oysters for supper, +and this consoled her a little. + +I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for HER share in this +adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and I do believe is +hignorant to this day of our little strattygim. Besides, all's fair in +love; and, as my master could never get to see her alone, on account +of her infernal eleven sisters and ma, he took this opportunity of +expressin his attachment to her. + +If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid it him back +again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were as tender as two +tuttle-doves--which fully accounts for the axdent what happened to me, +in being kicked out of the room: and in course I bore no mallis. + +I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master was in love +with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down to his parlor as +much as ever. + +Now comes the sing'lar part of my history. + + + +CHAPTER II. + + +But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or what +was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I said to him on +a wery rainy day, "Sir, shall I bring the gig down to your office?" and +he gave me one of his black looks and one of his loudest hoaths, and +told me to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Another +day,--it was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,--Miss +M., who adoared him, as I have said already, kep on asking him what was +his buth, parentidg, and ediccation. "Dear Frederic," says she, "why +this mistry about yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little +Mary"--they were as tender as this, I can tell you--"your buth and your +professin?" + +I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he +said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, "Mary," said he, "if you love +me, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know that I am a +honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery for you to larn, +must hang over all my actions--that is from ten o'clock till six." + +They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus +way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses in +Pentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear rayther +better outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his secret, he +swore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing should prevent +him, he said, from leading her to the halter, from makin her his +adoarable wife. After this was a slight silence. "Dearest Frederic," +mummered out miss, speakin as if she was chokin, "I am yours--yours +for ever." And then silence agen, and one or two smax, as if there +was kissin going on. Here I thought it best to give a rattle at the +door-lock; for, as I live, there was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the +stairs! + +It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed-rum +window, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half an hour +afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who was a dragon of +vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and frowning, as fat and +as fierce as a old sow at feedin time. + +"Where's the lodger, fellow?" says she to me. + +I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street--"If you mean, ma'am, +my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept in, and is +puttin on clean shoes in his bedroom." + +She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening the +parlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a-drooping +down her head like a pale lily. + +"Did you come into my famly," says she, "to corrupt my daughters, and to +destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come here, sir, as +a seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!"--and she folded her +arms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums in the Tragic Mews. + +"I came here, Mrs. Shum," said he, "because I loved your daughter, or +I never would have condescended to live in such a beggarly hole. I have +treated her in every respect like a genlmn, and she is as innocent now, +ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry me, I am ready; +if she'll leave you, she shall have a home where she shall be neither +bullyd nor starved: no hangry frumps of sisters, no cross mother-in-law, +only an affeckshnat husband, and all the pure pleasures of Hyming." + +Mary flung herself into his arms--"Dear, dear Frederic," says she, "I'll +never leave you." + +"Miss," says Mrs. Shum, "you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster, thank +God. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and he may +insult me--brave me--trample on my feelinx in my own house--and there's +no-o-o-obody by to defend me." + +I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and she +began screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the eleven +gals and old Shum. There was a pretty row. "Look here, sir," says she, +"at the conduck of your precious trull of a daughter--alone with this +man, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides." + +"What, he?" cries Miss Betsy--"he in love with Mary. Oh, the wretch, the +monster, the deceiver!"--and she falls down too, screeching away as loud +as her mamma; for the silly creature fancied still that Altamont had a +fondness for her. + +"SILENCE THESE WOMEN!" shouts out Altamont, thundering loud. "I love +your daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny, and can afford +to keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll come of her own will. +Is that enough?--may I have her?" + +"We'll talk of this matter, sir," says Mr. Shum, looking as high and +mighty as an alderman. "Gals, go up stairs with your dear mamma."--And +they all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage ended. + +You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a husband for +his daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better than all the +pack which had been brought him or born to him by Mrs. Buckmaster. But, +strange to say, when he came to talk of settlements and so forth, not +a word would my master answer. He said he made four hundred a year +reglar--he wouldn't tell how--but Mary, if she married him, must share +all that he had, and ask no questions; only this he would say, as he'd +said before, that he was a honest man. + +They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house at +Islington; but still my master went away to business, and nobody knew +where. Who could he be? + + + +CHAPTER III. + + +If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a chance +of happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There house at +Cannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could be. Carpited +from top to to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; and three +deomestix: of which I, in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy as +in Mr. A.'s bachelor days; but, what then? The three W's is my maxum: +plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep his +gig no longer, but went to the city in an omlibuster. + +One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an effeckshnut +husband, might have been as happy as her blessid majisty. Nothing of the +sort. For the fust six months it was all very well; but then she grew +gloomier and gloomier, though A. did everythink in life to please her. + +Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row, where +he lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little man was a +thought too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's the night that +I've had to support him home. And you may be sure that Miss Betsy did +not now desert her sister: she was at our place mornink, noon, and +night; not much to my mayster's liking, though he was too good-natured +to wex his wife in trifles. + +But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and hated +Altamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things into +the head of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety and +cheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid, just as +if she had been the most misrable woman in the world. + +In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs. +Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and made her +retchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamont +came home: she used to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say, "My +child, my child, your father is false to me;" or, "your father deceives +me;" or "what will you do when your pore mother is no more?" or such +like sentimental stuff. + +It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found out. +The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the house, its a +servant's DUTY to listen; and listen I did, one day when Mrs. was cryin +as usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin her, as she called it: +though, heaven knows, she only grew wuss and wuss for the consolation. + +Well, I listened; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis cryin as +yousual. + +"Pore dear innocint," says Mrs. S., heavin a great sigh, "you're the +child of a unknown father and a misrable mother." + +"Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma," says missis; "he is all kindness +to me." + +"All kindness, indeed! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a fine gownd, +and a ride in a fly whenever you please; but WHERE DOES ALL HIS +MONEY COME FROM? Who is he--what is he? Who knows that he mayn't be a +murderer, or a housebreaker, or a utterer of forged notes? How can he +make his money honestly, when he won't say where he gets it? Why does he +leave you eight hours every blessid day, and won't say where he goes to? +Oh, Mary, Mary, you are the most injured of women!" + +And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin; and Miss Betsy began yowling like +a cat in a gitter; and pore missis cried, too--tears is so remarkable +infeckshus. + +"Perhaps, mamma," wimpered out she, "Frederic is a shop-boy, and don't +like me to know that he is not a gentleman." + +"A shopboy," says Betsy, "he a shopboy! O no, no, no! more likely a +wretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing all day, and feedin +you with the fruits of his ill-gotten games!" + +More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby joined; and +made a very pretty consort, I can tell you. + +"He can't be a robber," cries missis; "he's too good, too kind, for +that: besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is always home +at eight." + +"But he can be a forger," says Betsy, "a wicked, wicked FORGER. Why does +he go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why does he go to +the city? to be near banks and places, and so do it more at his +convenience." + +"But he brings home a sum of money every day--about thirty +shillings--sometimes fifty: and then he smiles, and says it's a good +day's work. This is not like a forger," said pore Mrs. A. + +"I have it--I have it!" screams out Mrs. S. "The villain--the sneaking, +double-faced Jonas! he's married to somebody else he is, and that's why +he leaves you, the base biggymist!" + +At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away. A +dreadful business it was--hystarrix; then hystarrix, in course, from +Mrs. Shum; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up and down +stairs with hot water! If ever there is a noosance in the world, it's a +house where faintain is always goin on. I wouldn't live in one,--no, not +to be groom of the chambers, and git two hundred a year. + +It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place; and such +a row it was, that nobody but me heard master's knock. He came in, and +heard the hooping, and screeching, and roaring. He seemed very much +frightened at first, and said, "What is it?" + +"Mrs. Shum's here," says I, "and Mrs. in astarrix." + +Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word which I +don't like to name,--let it suffice that it begins with a D and ends +with a NATION; and he tore up stairs like mad. + +He bust open the bedroom door; missis lay quite pale and stony on the +sofy; the babby was screechin from the craddle; Miss Betsy was sprawlin +over missis; and Mrs. Shum half on the bed and half on the ground: all +howlin and squeelin, like so many dogs at the moond. + +When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a sudding. There +had been one or two tiffs before between them, and they feared him as if +he had been a hogre. + +"What's this infernal screeching and crying about?" says he. "Oh, Mr. +Altamont," cries the old woman, "you know too well; it's about you that +this darling child is misrabble!" + +"And why about me, pray, madam?" + +"Why, sir, dare you ask why? Because you deceive her, sir; because you +are a false, cowardly traitor, sir; because YOU HAVE A WIFE ELSEWHERE, +SIR!" And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to roar again as loud as +ever. + +Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the door wide open; nex he +seized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he world her out of +the room; then up he goes to Mrs. S. "Get up," says he, thundering loud, +"you lazy, trolloping, mischsef-making, lying old fool! Get up, and get +out of this house. You have been the cuss and bain of my happyniss +since you entered it. With your d----d lies, and novvle rending, and +histerrix, you have perwerted Mary, and made her almost as mad as +yourself." + +"My child! my child!" shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings round missis. But +Altamont ran between them, and griping the old lady by her arm, dragged +her to the door. "Follow your daughter, ma'm," says he, and down she +went. "CHAWLS, SEE THOSE LADIES TO THE DOOR," he hollows out, "and never +let them pass it again." We walked down together, and off they went: and +master locked and double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin, +of course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You may be +sure that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result of +their confidence. + +As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. "Mary," +says master, "you're no longer the merry greatful gal I knew and loved +at Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you--there's no +smilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! Your mother and +sister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's why I've drove them +from this house, which they shall not re-enter in my life." + +"O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I. Why do you have any +mistry from me? Where do you spend your days? Why did you leave me, +even on the day of your marridge, for eight hours, and continue to do so +every day?" + +"Because," says he, "I makes my livelihood by it. I leave you, and don't +tell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the happier to know." + +It was in this way the convysation ren on--more tears and questions on +my missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it ended +for the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel. Wery +difrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and kewing which +had proceeded their nupshuls. + +Master went out, slamming the door in a fury; as well he might. Says he, +"If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly one;" and so +he went off to the hed tavern, and came home that evening beesly +intawsicated. When high words begin in a family drink generally follows +on the genlman's side; and then, fearwell to all conjubial happyniss! +These two pipple, so fond and loving, were now sirly, silent, and full +of il wil. Master went out earlier, and came home later; missis cried +more, and looked even paler than before. + +Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in the +mopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and curosity; until a +singlar axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr. Altamont. + +It was the tenth of January; I recklect the day, for old Shum gev me +half a crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by the way): +he was dining along with master, and they were making merry together. + +Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and little Shum +his twelfth or so--master said, "I see you twice in the City to-day, Mr. +Shum." + +"Well, that's curous!" says Shum. "I WAS in the City. To-day's the day +when the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid; and me and Mrs. S. went for +our half-year's inkem. But we only got out of the coach, crossed the +street to the Bank, took our money, and got in agen. How could you see +me twice?" + +Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. "O!" says he, "I +was passing--passing as you went in and out." And he instantly turned +the conversation, and began talking about pollytix, or the weather, or +some such stuff. + +"Yes, my dear," said my missis, "but how could you see papa TWICE?" +Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever. Still she +would continy on. "Where was you, my dear, when you saw pa? What were +you doing, my love, to see pa twice?" and so forth. Master looked +angrier and angrier, and his wife only pressed him wuss and wuss. + +This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler; and I knew pritty +well that he could git very little further; for, as reglar as the +thirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, and its +consquinzes. I was obliged to leed him home to John Street, where I left +him in the hangry arms of Mrs. Shum. + +"How the d--," sayd he all the way, "how the d-dd--the +deddy--deddy--devil--could he have seen me TWICE?" + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It was a sad slip on Altamont's part, for no sooner did he go out the +next morning than missis went out too. She tor down the street, and +never stopped till she came to her pa's house at Pentonwill. She was +clositid for an hour with her ma, and when she left her she drove +straight to the City. She walked before the Bank, and behind the Bank, +and round the Bank: she came home disperryted, having learned nothink. + +And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's house for the +next ten days there was nothing but expyditions into the city. Mrs. +S., tho her dropsicle legs had never carred her half so fur before, was +eternally on the key veve, as the French say. If she didn't go, Miss +Betsy did, or misses did: they seemed to have an attrackshun to the +Bank, and went there as natral as an omlibus. + +At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house--(she wasn't admitted +when master was there, but came still in his absints)--and she wore a +hair of tryumph, as she entered. "Mary," says she, "where is the money +your husbind brought to you yesterday?" My master used always to give it +to missis when he returned. + +"The money, ma!" says Mary. "Why here!" And pulling out her puss, she +showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an odd-looking little coin. + +"THAT'S IT! that's it!" cried Mrs. S. "A Queene Anne's sixpence, isn't +it, dear--dated seventeen hundred and three?" + +It was so sure enough: a Queen Ans sixpence of that very date. + +"Now, my love," says she, "I have found him! Come with me to-morrow, and +you shall KNOW ALL!" + +And now comes the end of my story. + + . . . . . . + +The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked behind, doing +the genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. We walked down the +New Road--we walked down the City Road--we walked to the Bank. We were +crossing from that heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all of a +sudden missis shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away. + +I rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms: spiling thereby a new +weskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard. I say, very +nearly knocking down the old sweeper who was hobbling away as fast as +posibil. We took her to Birch's; we provided her with a hackney-coach +and every lucksury, and carried her home to Islington. + + . . . . . . + +That night master never came home. Nor the nex night, nor the nex. +On the fourth day an octioneer arrived; he took an infantry of the +furnitur, and placed a bill in the window. + +At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He was haggard and +pale; not so haggard, however, not so pale as his miserable wife. + +He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that I coppied +MY look to Miss ----. He looked at her very tendrilly and held out his +arms. She gev a suffycating shreek, and rusht into his umbraces. + +"Mary," says he, "you know all now. I have sold my place; I have got +three thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. I've sold my house +and furnitur, and that brings me another. We'll go abroad and love each +other, has formly." + +And now you ask me, Who he was? I shudder to relate.--Mr. Haltamont SWEP +THE CROSSING FROM THE BANK TO CORNHILL!! + +Of cors, I left his servis. I met him, few years after, at +Badden-Badden, where he and Mrs. A. were much respectid, and pass for +pipple of propaty. + + + + +THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. + + +DIMOND CUT DIMOND. + + +The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more ellygant and +youfonious than that of my fust. I now found myself boddy servant to the +Honrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son of the Earl +of Crabs. + +Halgernon was a barrystir--that is, he lived in Pump Cort, Temple: a +wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. Suffiz to say, it's on +the confines of the citty, and the choasen aboad of the lawyers of this +metrappolish. + +When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean that he +went sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply that he kep +chambers, lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a commitionarship, or +a revisinship, or any other place that the Wig guvvyment could give +him. His father was a Wig pier (as the landriss told me), and had been +a Toary pier. The fack is, his lordship was so poar, that he would be +anythink or nothink, to get provisions for his sons and an inkum for +himself. + +I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year; and it would have +been a very comforable maintenants, only he knever paid him. + +Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake; he got his +allowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble and +fashnabble manner. He kep a kab---he went to Holmax--and Crockfud's--he +moved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the law boox very little, +I can tell you. Those fashnabble gents have ways of getten money, witch +comman pipple doan't understand. + +Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he had +the welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as common as +haypince--clarrit and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin; and +verry glad I was, to be sure, to be a valley to a zion of the nobillaty. + +Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of paper. +The names of his family was wrote on it; it was wrote in the shape of +a tree, a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and the names were on +little plates among the bows. The pictur said that the Deuceaces kem +into England in the year 1066, along with William Conqueruns. My master +called it his podygree. I do bleev it was because he had this pictur, +and because he was the HONRABBLE Deuceace, that he mannitched to live +as he did. If he had been a common man, you'd have said he was no +better than a swinler. It's only rank and buth that can warrant such +singularities as my master show'd. For it's no use disgysing it--the +Honrabble Halgernon was a GAMBLER. For a man of wulgar family, it's the +wust trade that can be--for a man of common feelinx of honesty, this +profession is quite imposbil; but for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it's +the esiest and most prophetable line he can take. + +It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should live in +the Temple; but it must be recklected, that it's not only lawyers who +live in what's called the Ins of Cort. Many batchylers, who have nothink +to do with lor, have here their loginx; and many sham barrysters, who +never put on a wig and gownd twise in their lives, kip apartments in the +Temple, instead of Bon Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble places. + +Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there was +8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar, +Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys; fust floar, Mr. Sergeant +Flabber--opsite, Mr. Counslor Bruffy; and secknd pair, Mr. Haggerstony, +an Irish counslor, praktising at the Old Baly, and lickwise what they +call reporter to the Morning Post nyouspapper. Opsite him was wrote + + + MR. RICHARD BLEWITT; + + +and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. + +This young fellow was a new comer into the Temple, and unlucky it was +for him too--he'd better have never been born; for it's my firm apinion +that the Temple ruined him--that is, with the help of my master and Mr. +Dick Blewitt: as you shall hear. + +Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man, had just left +the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his own--six +thousand pound, or so--in the stox. He was jest of age, an orfin who +had lost his father and mother; and having distinkwished hisself at +Collitch, where he gained seffral prices, was come to town to push his +fortn, and study the barryster's bisness. + +Not bein of a very high fammly hisself--indeed, I've heard say his +father was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort--Dawkins was glad +to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to rich Squire +Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him. + +Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr. Blewitt's +gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters,--mine being +too much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr. Blewitt's sort. +Blewitt was what they call a bettin man; he went reglar to Tattlesall's, +kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and a +cut-away coat. In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, who +was a slim, ellygant man as ever I see--he had very white hands, rayther +a sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed and +as black as Warren's jet--he spoke very low and soft--he seemed to be +watchin the person with whom he was in convysation, and always flatterd +everybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He was always +swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty as posbill. +He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one would trust with +life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at least; who, though a quiet young +man, fond of his boox, novvles, Byron's poems, foot-playing, and such +like scientafic amusemints, grew hand in glove with honest Dick Blewitt, +and soon after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw! he +thought he was makin good connexions and real frends--he had fallen in +with a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that ever lived. + +Before Mr. Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barely +condysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt; it was only about a month after +that suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very friendly +with him. The reason was pretty clear,--Deuceace WANTED HIM. Dawkins had +not been an hour in master's company before he knew that he had a pidgin +to pluck. + +Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended to +keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the Honrabble +Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's clause, who +thought he had it safe. In fact, he'd brought Dawkins to these chambers +for that very porpos, thinking to have him under his eye, and strip him +at leisure. + +My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game. Gamblers +know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation; and though Mr. +Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr. Deuceace, they knew each +other's dealins and caracters puffickly well. + +"Charles you scoundrel," says Deuceace to me one day (he always spoak in +that kind way), "who is this person that has taken the opsit chambers, +and plays the flute so industrusly?" + +"It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a great +friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir," says I; "they seem to live in each +other's rooms." + +Master said nothink, but he GRIN'D--my eye, how he did grin. Not the +fowl find himself could snear more satannickly. + +I knew what he meant: + +Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. + +Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. + +Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and when the +simpleton is RICH, one knows pretty well what will come of it. + +I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as my +master; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless us! there +was four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men as you ever see: +Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. Blewitt's, and me--and +we knew what our masters was about as well as thay did theirselfs. +Frinstance, I can say this for MYSELF, there wasn't a paper in +Deuceace's desk or drawer, not a bill, a note, or mimerandum, which I +hadn't read as well as he: with Blewitt's it was the same--me and his +young man used to read 'em all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that we +didn't get a glass out of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have some +lumps of it. We had keys to all the cubbards--we pipped into all the +letters that kem and went---we pored over all the bill-files--we'd the +best pickens out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemit +balls out of the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals +and candles, we left them to the landrisses. You may call this +robry--nonsince--it's only our rights--a suvvant's purquizzits is as +sacred as the laws of Hengland. + +Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, esquire, was +sityouated as follows: He'd an incum of three hundred a year from his +father. Out of this he had to pay one hundred and ninety for money +borrowed by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, seventy more for his +hoss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and about three hundred and +fifty for a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park; besides this, +his pockit-money, say a hunderd, his eatin, drinkin, and wine-marchant's +bill, about two hunderd moar. So that you see he laid by a pretty +handsome sum at the end of the year. + +My master was diffrent; and being a more fashnable man than Mr. B., in +course he owed a deal more mony. There was fust: + + + Account contray, at Crockford's L 3711 0 0 + Bills of xchange and I. O. U.'s (but he + didn't pay these in most cases) 4963 0 0 + 21 tailors' bills, in all 1306 11 9 + 3 hossdealers' do 402 0 0 + 2 coachbuilder 506 0 0 + Bills contracted at Cambridtch 2193 6 8 + Sundries 987 10 0 + ------------ + L 14069 8 5 + + +I give this as a curosity--pipple doan't know how in many cases +fashnabble life is carried on; and to know even what a real gnlmn OWES +is somethink instructif and agreeable. + +But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the inquiries +concerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned already, he met Mr. Blewitt on +the stairs; and byoutiffle it was to see how this gnlmn, who had before +been almost cut by my master, was now received by him. One of +the sweetest smiles I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's +countenance. He held out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, and +said, in the most frenly tone of vice posbill, "What! Mr. Blewitt? It is +an age since we met. What a shame that such near naybors should see each +other so seldom!" + +Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing-gown, +smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked surprised, +flattered, and then suspicious. + +"Why, yes," says he, "it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time." + +"Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By-the-by, what +an evening that was--hay, Mr. Blewitt? What wine! what capital songs! I +recollect your 'May-day in the morning'--cuss me, the best comick song +I ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it only +yesterday. You know the duke, I think?" + +Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, "No, I don't." + +"Not know him!" cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows YOU; as +every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, your good +things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket." + +And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust answered +him quite short and angry: but, after a little more flummery, he grew as +pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry, and bleeved all +his lies. At last the door shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt's +chambers together. + +Of course I can't say what past there; but in an hour master kem up to +his own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo smoke. I +never see any genmln more sick than he was; HE'D BEEN SMOAKIN SEAGARS +along with Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho I'd often heard him +xpress his horrow of backo, and knew very well he would as soon swallow +pizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a reason: if +he'd been smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to some porpus. + +I didn't hear the convysation betwean 'em; but Mr. Blewitt's man did: +it was,--"Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars! Have you one for +a friend to smoak?" (The old fox, it wasn't only the SEAGARS he was +a-smoakin!) "Walk in," says Mr. Blewitt; and they began a chaffin +together; master very ankshous about the young gintleman who had come +to live in our chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to that +subject,--saying that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly; how +glad he'd be, for his part, to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and ANY FRIEND OF +HIS, and so on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap +laid for him. "I really don't know this Dawkins," says he: "he's a +chismonger's son, I hear; and tho I've exchanged visits with him, I +doan't intend to continyou the acquaintance,--not wishin to assoshate +with that kind of pipple." So they went on, master fishin, and Mr. +Blewitt not wishin to take the hook at no price. + +"Confound the vulgar thief!" muttard my master, as he was laying on his +sophy, after being so very ill; "I've poisoned myself with his infernal +tobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor! he thinks +he'll ruin this poor Cheese-monger, does he? I'll step in, and WARN +him." + +I thought I should bust a-laffin, when he talked in this style. I knew +very well what his "warning" meant,--lockin the stable-door but stealin +the hoss fust. + +Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. Dawkins we +exicuted; and very pritty it was. + +Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, had some +other parshallities--wiz., he was very fond of good eatin and drinkin. +After doddling over his music and boox all day, this young genlmn used +to sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a tavern, drinkin all +sorts of wine along with his friend Mr. Blewitt. He was a quiet young +fellow enough at fust; but it was Mr. B. who (for his own porpuses, no +doubt,) had got him into this kind of life. Well, I needn't say that he +who eats a fine dinner, and drinks too much overnight, wants a bottle +of soda-water, and a gril, praps, in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinses +case; and reglar almost as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from "Dix +Coffy-House" was to be seen on our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D.'s hot +breakfast. + +No man would have thought there was anythink in such a trifling +cirkumstance; master did, though, and pounced upon it like a cock on a +barlycorn. + +He sent me out to Mr. Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's called a +Strasbug-pie--in French, a "patty defau graw." He takes a card, and +nails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws come generally in a +round wooden box, like a drumb); and what do you think he writes on it? +why, as follos:--"For the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace, &c. &c. &c. +With Prince Talleyrand's compliments." + +Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed! I laff when I think of it, still, +the old surpint! He WAS a surpint, that Deuceace, and no mistake. + +Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day punctially +as Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming UP the stairs, Mr. Halgernon Percy +Deuceace was going DOWN. He was as gay as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, +and twizzting round his head his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he went +very fast, and by a most unlucky axdent struck his cane against the +waiter's tray, and away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, +soda-water and all! I can't think how my master should have choas such +an exact time; to be sure, his windo looked upon the court, and he could +see every one who came into our door. + +As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a rage as, to +be sure, no man ever was in befor; he swoar at the waiter in the most +dreddfle way; he threatened him with his stick, and it was only when he +see that the waiter was rayther a bigger man than hisself that he was +in the least pazzyfied. He returned to his own chambres; and John, the +waiter, went off for more gril to Dixes Coffy-house. + +"This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles," says master to me, +after a few minits paws, during witch he had been and wrote a note, +put it into an anvelope, and sealed it with his big seal of arms. "But +stay--a thought strikes me--take this note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pye +you brought yesterday; and hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where you +got it I will break every bone in your skin!" + +These kind of promises were among the few which I knew him to keep: and +as I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I carried the noat, and of cors +said nothink. Waiting in Mr. Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, I +returned to my master with an anser. I may as well give both of these +documence, of which I happen to have taken coppies: + + + I. + + THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. + + "TEMPLE, Tuesday. + + "Mr. DEUCEACE presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at + the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for + the accident which has just taken place. + + "May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to + remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power if Mr. + Dawkins will do him the favor to partake of the contents of the + accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a + friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps + he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the plat which Mr. + Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. + + "It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to + the original donor of the 'pate', when he learns that it has fallen + into the hands of so celebrated a bon vivant as Mr. Dawkins. + + "T. S. DAWKINS, Esq., &c. &c. &c." + + + II. + + FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + + "MR. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS presents his grateful compliments to the + Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. + Deuceace's generous proffer. + + "It would be one of the HAPPIEST MOMENTS of Mr. Smith Dawkins's + life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would EXTEND HIS GENEROSITY still + further, and condescend to partake of the repast which his + MUNIFICENT POLITENESS has furnished. + + "TEMPLE, Tuesday." + + +Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters, which +I had wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's copyin clark. Deuceace's +flam about Prince Tallyram was puffickly successful. I saw young Dawkins +blush with delite as he red the note; he toar up for or five sheets +before he composed the answer to it, which was as you red abuff, and +roat in a hand quite trembling with pleasyer. If you could but have seen +the look of triumph in Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he read the +noat! I never see a deamin yet, but I can phansy 1, a holding a writhing +soal on his pitchfrock, and smilin like Deuceace. He dressed himself in +his very best clothes, and in he went, after sending me over to say that +he would except with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. + +The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun betwixt the two +genlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. He spoke to Mr. Dawkins in +the most respeckful and flatrin manner,--agread in every think he +said,--prazed his taste, his furniter, his coat, his classick nolledge, +and his playin on the floot; you'd have thought, to hear him, that such +a polygon of exlens as Dawkins did not breath,--that such a modist, +sinsear, honrabble genlmn as Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xcept +in Pump Cort. Poor Daw was complitly taken in. My master said he'd +introduce him to the Duke of Doncaster, and heaven knows how many nobs +more, till Dawkins was quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as a +fac (and it pretty well shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he went +that very day and ordered 2 new coats, on porpos to be introjuiced to +the lords in. + +But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and swarink--up +stares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung opn Mr. Dawkins's door, shouting +out, "Daw my old buck, how are you?" when, all of a sudden, he sees Mr. +Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, +and looked as if a stror would knock him down. "My dear Mr. Blewitt," +says my master, smilin and offring his hand, "how glad I am to see you. +Mr. Dawkins and I were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down." + +Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other out; but +law bless you! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my master: all the time he +was fidgetty, silent, and sulky; on the contry, master was charmin. +I never herd such a flo of conversatin, or so many wittacisms as he +uttered. At last, completely beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf; that +instant master followed him; and passin his arm through that of Mr. +Dick, led him into our chambers, and began talkin to him in the most +affabl and affeckshnat manner. + +But Dick was too angry to listen; at last, when master was telling him +some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt burst out-- + +"A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr. Deuceace, don't +you be running your rigs upon me; I ain't the man to be bamboozl'd by +long-winded stories about dukes and duchesses. You think I don't know +you; every man knows you and your line of country. Yes, you're after +young Dawkins there, and think to pluck him; but you shan't,--no, +by ---- you shan't." (The reader must recklect that the oaths which +interspussed Mr. B.'s convysation I have left out.) Well, after he'd +fired a wolley of 'em, Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as possbill. + +"Hark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal thieves and +scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector with me, I will cane you; if +you want more, I'll shoot you; if you meddle between me and Dawkins, I +will do both. I know your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. +I know you have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and want +all. I will have half, or you never shall have a penny." It's quite true +that master knew things; but how was the wonder. + +I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on the wrong +side of the door; but there was a considdrable paws after thuse +complymints had passed between the two genlmn,--one walkin quickly up +and down the room--tother, angry and stupid, sittin down, and stampin +with his foot. + +"Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt," continues master at last. "If you're +quiet, you shall have half this fellow's money: but venture to win a +shilling from him in my absence, or without my consent, and you do it at +your peril." + +"Well, well, Mr. Deuceace," cries Dick, "it's very hard, and I must say, +not fair: the game was of my startin, and you've no right to interfere +with my friend." + +"Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday not to know this +man, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should like to know +by what law of honor I am bound to give him up to you?" + +It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talkin about HONOR. I +declare I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of the +precious way in which these chaps were going to serve him. But if THEY +didn't know what honor was, I did; and never, never did I tell tails +about my masters when in their sarvice--OUT, in cors, the hobligation is +no longer binding. + +Well, the nex day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White soop, +turbit, and lobstir sos; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and M'Arony; +wines, shampang, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and ever so many +of clarrit. The compny presint was three; wiz., the Honrabble A. P. +Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. My i, how we genlmn in +the kitchin did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when it +was brot out of the parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik; Mr. +Dawkinses genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of age) grew so il with +M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's. +pils, which 1/2 kild him. But this is all promiscuous: I an't talkin of +the survants now, but the masters. + +Would you bleeve it? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine between +the 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game where only 2 plays, and +where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on. + +Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game they +were wonderful equill; and about supper-time (when grilled am, more +shampang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stood +thus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt 30 shillings; the +Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost 3L. l0s. After the devvle and the +shampang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and five +pound the bet. I thought, to be sure, after hearing the complymints +between Blewitt and master in the morning, that now poor Dawkins's time +was come. + +Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and giving him +the very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt five +o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was counting up the skore on +a card. + +"Blewitt," says he, "I've been unlucky. I owe you, let me see--yes, +five-and-forty pounds?" + +"Five-and-forty," says Blewitt, "and no mistake!" + +"I will give you a cheque," says the honrabble genlmn. + +"Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!" But master got a grate sheet +of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit and Co., his +bankers. + +"Now," says master, "I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. Dawkins. +If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sum +of money. Voyons, thirteen points at a pound--it is easy to calculate;" +and drawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, +which shon till they made my eyes wink. + +So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drew +them in. + +"Let me say," added master, "let me say (and I've had some little +experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I ever +sat down." + +Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, "Law, +Deuceace, you flatter me." + +FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which master +ment. + +"But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, "I must have my revenge; for I'm +ruined--positively ruined by your luck." + +"Well, well," says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he had +gained a millium, "shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you?" + +Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, +consented too. "We'll meet," says he, "at your chambers. But mind, my +dear fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especially +when I have to play ecarte with YOU." + +Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. "Here, Charles," says +he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew what was +a-comin! + +But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, MASTER +HAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 more, from +that young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interview +with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. + + +Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bit +wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his money; as +it was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very short +time to part with it. + +Nex day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. Dawkins +had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev his +party,--dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D.'s as befoar. Play +begins at 11. This time I knew the bisness was pretty serious, for +we suvvants was packed off to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to +chambers--no master--he kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a little +toilit, ordered more devvles and soda-water, and back again he went to +Mr. Dawkins's. + +They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all the +vittles came out to us genlmn: they had in more wine though, and must +have drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. + +At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to his +chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar drunk. He +staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he swoar, he flung me +a heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk down exosted on his bed; I pullin +off his boots and close, and making him comfrabble. + +When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of every +servant to do--I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book and +all his letters: a number of axdents have been prevented that way. + +I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty dockyment-- + + + I. O. U. + L 4700. + THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS. + Friday, 16th January. + + +There was another bit of paper of the same kind--"I. 0. U. four hundred +pounds: Richard Blewitt:" but this, in corse, ment nothink. + + . . . . . . + +Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He drest, +and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and the two +gentlmn went together. + +"Where shall he drive, sir?" says I. + +"Oh, tell him to drive to THE BANK." + +Pore Dawkins! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkenniss, gave a +shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle; and they drove on. + +That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred +pounds. + + . . . . . . + +Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up the +stairs with a sollum and important hair. + +"Is your master at home?" says he. + +"Yes, sir," says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to the +keyhole, listning with all my mite. + +"Well," says Blewitt, "we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. +Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins." + +"Settled!" says master. "Oh, yes--yes--I've settled with him." + +"Four thousand seven hundred, I think?" + +"About that--yes." + +"That makes my share--let me see--two thousand three hundred and fifty; +which I'll thank you to fork out." + +"Upon my word--why--Mr. Blewitt," says master, "I don't really +understand what you mean." + +"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" says Blewitt, in an axent such as I never +before heard. "You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me that +we were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the other +night to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't you swear, on your honor as +a gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair?" + +"Agreed, sir," says Deuceace; "agreed." + +"Well, sir, and now what have you to say?" + +"Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool and +ninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I was going +to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, that +you should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! Or, +stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note of hand, +sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passed +between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace." + +I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He +stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began blubbring; +now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace to +grant him mercy. + +At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I didn't +tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, "Charles, show the +gentleman down stairs!" My master looked at him quite steddy. Blewitt +slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven +knows where he was! + + . . . . . . + +"Charles," says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, "I'm going to +Paris; you may come, too, if you please." + + + + +FORING PARTS. + + +It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had won +this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as extravygant +and osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he determined on going +to Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of all them winnings of his; +didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leave +his natiff shoars--neigh--didn't even so much as call together his +tradesmin, and pay off their little bills befor his departure. + +On the contry, "Chawles," said he to me, "stick a piece of paper on my +door," which is the way that lawyers do, "and write 'Back at seven' +upon it." Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it on our outer oak. And so +mistearus was Deuceace about his continental tour (to all except me), +that when the landriss brought him her account for the last month +(amountain, at the very least, to 2L. 10s.), master told her to leave it +till Monday morning, when it should be properly settled. It's extrodny +how ickonomical a man becomes, when he's got five thousand lbs. in his +pockit. + +Back at 7 indeed! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover Road, in the +Reglator Coach--master inside, me out. A strange company of people there +was, too, in that wehicle,--3 sailors; an Italyin with his music-box and +munky; a missionary, going to convert the heathens in France; 2 oppra +girls (they call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure-aunts' mothers +inside; 4 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and mustashes, singing, +chattering, and jesticklating in the most vonderful vay. Such +compliments as passed between them and the figure-aunts! such a munshin +of biskits and sippin of brandy! such "O mong Jews," and "O sacrrres," +and "kill fay frwaws!" I didn't understand their languidge at that time, +so of course can't igsplain much of their conwersation; but it pleased +me, nevertheless, for now I felt that I was reely going into foring +parts: which, ever sins I had had any edication at all, was always my +fondest wish. Heavin bless us! thought I, if these are specimeens of +all Frenchmen, what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's monky, sittin +mopin and meluncolly on his box, was not half so ugly, and seamed quite +as reasonabble. + +Well, we arrived at Dover--"Ship Hotel" weal cutlets half a ginny, +glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half a crownd, a hapnyworth of +wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master paid without grumbling; +as long as it was for himself he never minded the expens: and nex day we +embarked in the packit for Balong sir-mare--which means in French, the +town of Balong sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foring +wonders, expected this to be the fust and greatest: phansy, then, my +disapintment, when we got there, to find this Balong, not situated on +the sea, but on the SHOAR. + +But oh! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I did wish for Pump Court +agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel! Gentle reader, av you +ever been on the otion?--"The sea, the sea, the open sea!" as Barry +Cromwell says. As soon as we entered our little wessel, and I'd +looked to master's luggitch and mine (mine was rapt up in a very small +hankercher), as soon, I say, as we entered our little wessel, as soon +as I saw the waives, black and frothy, like fresh drawn porter, a-dashin +against the ribs of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, splittin +the billoes in two, the sales a-flaffin in the hair, the standard of +Hengland floating at the mask-head, the steward a-getting ready the +basins and things, the capting proudly tredding the deck and giving +orders to the salers, the white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheens +disappearing in the distans--then, then I felt, for the first time, +the mite, the madgisty of existence. "Yellowplush my boy," said I, in a +dialogue with myself, "your life is now about to commens--your carear, +as a man, dates from your entrans on board this packit. Be wise, be +manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are no longer +a boy now, but a FOOTMAN. Throw down your tops, your marbles, your +boyish games--throw off your childish habbits with your inky clerk's +jackit--throw up your--" + + . . . . . . + +Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the fust place +singlar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly overpowering, +had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, and now I found +myself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me to describe. Suffis to +say, that now I dixcovered what basins was made for--that for many, many +hours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and porpuses, +the rain pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body--the +panes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been about four hours in +this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to that +part of the deck where we servants were all huddled up together, and +calls out "Charles!" + +"Well," says I, gurgling out a faint "yes, what's the matter?" + +"You're wanted." + +"Where?" + +"Your master's wery ill," says he, with a grin. + +"Master be hanged!" says I, turning round, more misrable than ever. I +woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand masters--no, not for the +Empror of Russia or the Pop of Room. + +Well, to cut this sad subjik short, many and many a voyitch have I sins +had upon what Shakspur calls the "wasty dip," but never such a retched +one as that from Dover to Balong, in the year Anna Domino 1818. Steemers +were scarce in those days; and our journey was made in a smack. At last, +when I was in a stage of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myself +at Death's doar, we got to the end of our journey. Late in the evening +we hailed the Gaelic shoars, and hankered in the arbor of Balong +sir-mare. + +It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master: and as we entered the +calm water, and saw the comfrabble lights gleaming in the houses, and +felt the roal of the vessel degreasing, never was two mortials gladder, +I warrant, than we were. At length our capting drew up at the key, and +our journey was down. But such a bustle and clatter, such jabbering, +such shrieking and swaring, such wollies of oafs and axicrations as +saluted us on landing, I never knew! We were boarded, in the fust place, +by custom-house officers in cock-hats, who seased our luggitch, and +called for our passpots: then a crowd of inn-waiters came, tumbling and +screaming on deck--"Dis way, sare," cries one; "Hotel Meurice," says +another; "Hotel de Bang," screeches another chap--the tower of Babyle +was nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a +big fellow with ear-rings, who very nigh knock me down, in wrenching +master's carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carrying it to the hotell. +But we got to it safe at last; and, for the fust time in my life, I slep +in a foring country. + +I shan't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been visited by +not less (on an avaridg) than two milliums of English since I fust +saw it twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known already. It's a dingy +melumcolly place, to my mind; the only thing moving in the streets is +the gutter which runs down 'em. As for wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em; +and for frogs, upon my honor I never see a single Frenchman swallow +one, which I had been led to beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, +custom. One thing which amazed me was the singlar name which they give +to this town of Balong. It's divided, as every boddy knows, into +an upper town (sitouate on a mounting, and surrounded by a wall, or +bullyvar) and a lower town, which is on the level of the sea. Well, will +it be believed that they call the upper town the Hot Veal, and the other +the Base Veal, which is on the contry, genrally good in France, though +the beaf, it must be confest, is excrabble. + +It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at the Hotel +de Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew; and if he'd +been the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of Canterbury, he could +not have given himself greater hairs, I can tell you. Nothink was too +fine for us now; we had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, which +belonged to the prime minister of France (at least the landlord said +they were the premier's); and the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had +not paid his landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to think +that goold was too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would break +down with a man of his weight. Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, +besides bordo, clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the +delixes of the Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, +and did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the bench, and +watch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of them long, +sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know why, tallow-scoops. +Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped here were boath numerous and +daliteful; nothink, in fact, could be more pickong, as they say. In the +morning before breakfast we boath walked on the Peer; master in a blue +mareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new livry; both provided with long +sliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I don't know Y, but I suppose +it's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. With these we igsamined, very +attentively, the otion, the sea-weed, the pebbles, the dead cats, the +fishwimmin, and the waives (like little children playing at leap-frog), +which came tumblin over 1 another on to the shoar. It seemed to me as if +they were scrambling to get there, as well they might, being sick of the +sea, and anxious for the blessid, peaceable terry firmy. + +After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his beat, and me +on mine,--for my place in this foring town was a complete shinycure), +and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, we egsamined a little +more the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on; and this lasted till +dinner, and dinner till bedtime, and bedtime lasted till nex day, when +came brexfast, and dinner, and tally-scooping, as before. This is the +way with all people of this town, of which, as I've heard say, there is +ten thousand happy English, who lead this plesnt life from year's end to +year's end. + +Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentlemen, a little +dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowygers. In none of these +amusements did we partake. We were a LITTLE too good to play crown pints +at cards, and never get paid when we won; or to go dangling after the +portionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops and penny-wist along +with the old ladies. No, no; my master was a man of fortn now, and +behayved himself as sich. If ever he condysended to go into the public +room of the Hotel de Bang--the French (doubtless for reasons best known +to themselves) call this a sallymanjy--he swoar more and lowder than +any one there; he abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his +glas in his i, he staired at every body. He took always the place before +the fire. He talked about "my carridge," "my currier," "my servant;" and +he did wright. I've always found through life, that if you wish to be +respected by English people, you must be insalent to them, especially +if you are a sprig of nobiliaty. We LIKE being insulted by noblemen,--it +shows they're familiar with us. Law bless us! I've known many and many +a genlmn about town who'd rather be kicked by a lord than not be noticed +by him; they've even had an aw of ME, because I was a lord's footman. +While my master was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airs +I gave myself in the kitching, I can tell you; and the consequints was, +that we were better served, and moar liked, than many pipple with twice +our merit. + +Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him so long at +Balong; and it clearly was his wish to act the man of fortune there for +a little time before he tried the character of Paris. He purchased a +carridge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine new livry blazin +with lace, and he past through the Balong bank a thousand pounds of the +money he had won from Dawkins, to his credit at a Paris house; showing +the Balong bankers at the same time, that he'd plenty moar in his +potfolie. This was killin two birds with one stone; the bankers' clerks +spread the nuse over the town, and in a day after master had paid the +money every old dowyger in Balong had looked out the Crabs' family +podigree in the Peeridge, and was quite intimate with the Deuceace name +and estates. If Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's many +vurtuous English mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. + +Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town without +excommunicating with his father on the subject of his intended +continental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my Lord +Crabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a copy. It ran thus:-- + + +"BOULOGNE, January 25. + +"MY DEAR FATHER,--I have long, in the course of my legal studies, found +the necessity of a knowledge of French, in which language all the early +history of our profession is written, and have determined to take a +little relaxation from chamber reading, which has seriously injured +my health. If my modest finances can bear a two months' journey, and a +residence at Paris, I propose to remain there that period. + +"Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to Lord +Bobtail, our ambassador? My name, and your old friendship with him, I +know would secure me a reception at his house; but a pressing letter +from yourself would at once be more courteous, and more effectual. + +"May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an expensive +man, my dear father, as you know; but we are no chameleons, and fifty +pounds (with my little earnings in my profession) would vastly add to +the agremens of my continental excursion. + +"Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish the +hard portion of a younger son had not been mine, and that I could live +without the dire necessity for labor, happy among the rural scenes of my +childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters and you! Heaven bless +you, dearest father, and all those beloved ones now dwelling under the +dear old roof at Sizes. + +"Ever your affectionate son, + +"Algernon. + +"THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS, &c., + +SIZES COURT, BUCKS." + + +To this affeckshnat letter his lordship replied, by return of poast, as +follos:-- + + +"MY DEAR ALGERNON,--Your letter came safe to hand and I enclose you the +letter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and has one of +the best cooks in Europe. + +"We were all charmed with your warm remembrances of us, not having seen +you for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family affection +which, in spite of time and absence, still clings so fondly to home. It +is a sad, selfish world, and very few who have entered it can afford to +keep those fresh feelings which you have, my dear son. + +"May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer. Be sure, +dear Algernon, that they will be through life your greatest comfort, as +well as your best worldly ally; consoling you in misfortune, cheering +you in depression, aiding and inspiring you to exertion and success. + +"I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at Coutts's is so low, +just now, as to render a payment of your allowance for the present +impossible. I see by my book that I owe you now nine quarters, or 450L. +Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully paid over to +you on the first opportunity. + +"By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the newspapers, which +may interest you: and have received a very strange letter from a Mr. +Blewitt, about a play transaction, which, I suppose, is the case alluded +to in these prints. He says you won 4700L. from one Dawkins: that the +lad paid it; that he, Blewitt, was to go what he calls 'snacks' in the +winning; but that you refused to share the booty. How can you, my dear +boy, quarrel with these vulgar people, or lay yourself in any way open +to their attacks? I have played myself a good deal, and there is no man +living who can accuse me of a doubtful act. You should either have shot +this Blewitt or paid him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late to +do the former; and, perhaps, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. +My dearest boy! recollect through life that YOU NEVER CAN AFFORD TO BE +DISHONEST WITH A ROQUE. Four thousand seven hundred pounds was a great +coup, to be sure. + +"As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Algernon! lend +me five hundred pounds? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay you. Your +brothers and sisters send you their love. I need not add, that you have +always the blessings of your affectionate father, + +"CRABS." + +"P.S.--Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a thousand." + + . . . . . . + +I needn't say that this did not QUITE enter into Deuceace's eyedears. +Lend his father 500 pound, indeed! He'd as soon have lent him a box on +the year! In the fust place, he hadn seen old Crabs for seven years, as +that nobleman remarked in his epistol; in the secknd he hated him, and +they hated each other; and nex, if master had loved his father ever +so much, he loved somebody else better--his father's son, namely: and +sooner than deprive that exlent young man of a penny, he'd have sean all +the fathers in the world hangin at Newgat, and all the "beloved ones," +as he called his sisters, the Lady Deuceacisses, so many convix at +Bottomy Bay. + +The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret WE wished to keep +the play transaction, the public knew it now full well. Blewitt, as I +found after, was the author of the libels which appeared right and left: + + +"GAMBLING IN HIGH LIFE--the HONORABLE Mr. D--c--ce again!--This +celebrated whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some profit. +On Friday, the 16th January, he won five thousand pounds from a VERY +young gentleman, Th-m-s Sm-th D-wk-ns, Esq., and lost two thousand five +hundred to R. Bl-w-tt, Esq., of the T-mple. Mr. D. very honorably paid +the sum lost by him to the honorable whist-player, but we have not heard +that, BEFORE HIS SUDDEN TRIP TO PARIS, Mr. D--uc--ce paid HIS losings to +Mr. Bl-w-tt." + + +Nex came a "Notice to Corryspondents:" + + +"Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the notorious +Deuceace? We answer, WE DO; and, in our very next Number, propose to +make some of them public." + + . . . . . . + +They didn't appear, however; but, on the contry, the very same +newspeper, which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, was now loud in +his praise. It said:-- + + +"A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last week, +most unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of high birth and +talents, the son of the exemplary E-rl of Cr-bs. We repel, with scorn +and indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the malignant slanderer +who vilified Mr. De--ce-ce, and beg to offer that gentleman the only +reparation in our power for having thus tampered with his unsullied +name. We disbelieve the RUFFIAN and HIS STORY, and most sincerely +regret that such a tale, or SUCH A WRITER, should ever have been brought +forward to the readers of this paper." + + +This was satisfactory, and no mistake: and much pleased we were at the +denial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased that master sent +him a ten-pound noat, and his complymints. He'd sent another to the same +address, BEFORE this parrowgraff was printed; WHY, I can't think: for I +woodn't suppose any thing musnary in a littery man. + +Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the carridge +smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we bade ojew to +Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure we cut! and, my i, +what a figger the postillion cut! A cock-hat, a jackit made out of a +cow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-tale about 3 fit in length, +and a pair of boots! Oh, sich a pare! A bishop might almost have +preached out of one, or a modrat-sized famly slep in it. Me and Mr. +Schwigshhnaps, the currier, sate behind in the rumbill; master aloan in +the inside, as grand as a Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off +we sett, bowing gracefly to the crowd; the harniss-bells jinglin, the +great white hosses snortin, kickin, and squeelin, and the postilium +cracking his wip, as loud as if he'd been drivin her majesty the quean. + + . . . . . . + +Well, I shan't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties, +willitches, and metrappolishes; sleeping the fust night at Amiens, +witch, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for +what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done with +sugar and brown sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the boasting about +them, I think I like our marrowphats better. + +Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here concarning +them. Master, who was brexfasting before going away, told me to go and +get him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald the waiter of the +inn, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always do), said "Bong" (which +means, very well), and presently came back. + +I'M BLEST IF HE DIDN'T BRING MASTER A PLATE OF CABBITCH! Would you +bleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they say +there's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses are so +extonishingly ignorant as to call a CABBIDGE a SHOO! Never, never let +it be said, after this, that these benighted, souperstitious, misrabble +SAVIDGES, are equill, in any respex, to the great Brittish people. The +moor I travvle, the moor I see of the world, and other natiums, I am +proud of my own, and despise and deplore the retchid ignorance of the +rest of Yourup. + + . . . . . . + +My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early opportunity. Me and +Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you. + + + + +MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY. + + +Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K.C.B., was about seventy-five +years old when he left this life, and the East Ingine army, of which he +was a distinguished ornyment. Sir George's first appearance in Injar was +in the character of a cabbingboy to a vessel; from which he rose to be +clerk to the owners at Calcutta, from which he became all of a sudden a +capting in the Company's service; and so rose and rose, until he rose to +be a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising altogether--hopping the +twig of this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors must do. + +Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the name of Griffin. +A widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching twenty-three, +was left behind to deploar his loss, and share his proppaty. On old Sir +George's deth, his interesting widdo and orfan, who had both been with +him in Injer, returned home--tried London for a few months, did not +like it, and resolved on a trip to Paris; where very small London people +become very great ones, if they've money, as these Griffinses had. +The intelligent reader need not be told that Miss Griffin was not the +daughter of Lady Griffin; for though marritches are made tolrabbly early +in Injer, people are not quite so precoashoos as all that: the fact is, +Lady G. was Sir George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that Miss +Matilda Griffin wos the offspring of his fust marritch. + +Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken out to +Calcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disposed of +by her uncle, Capting Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she married Sir +George at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine of whom kep a +school at Islington (the other 4 being married variously in the city), +were not a little envius of my lady's luck, and not a little proud of +their relationship to her. One of 'em, Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, +and by no means the least ugly of the sett, was staying with her +ladyship, and gev me all the partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, +being of a lo sort, I in course no nothink; MY acquaintance, thank my +stars, don't lie among them, or the likes of them. + +Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat sister, +in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing! I'd a soon be a gally +slave, as lead the life she did! Every body in the house despised her; +her ladyship insulted her; the very kitching gals scorned and flouted +her. She roat the notes, she kep the bills, she made the tea, she +whipped the chocklate, she cleaned the canary birds, and gev out the +linning for the wash. She was my lady's walking pocket, or rettycule; +and fetched and carried her handkercher, or her smell-bottle, like a +well-bred spaniel. All night, at her ladyship's swarries, she thumped +kidrills (nobody ever thought of asking HER to dance!); when Miss +Griffing sung, she played the piano, and was scolded because the singer +was out of tune; abommanating dogs, she never drove out without her +ladyship's puddle in her lap; and, reglarly unwell in a carriage, she +never got anything but the back seat. Poar Jemima! I can see her now +in my lady's SECKND-BEST old clothes (the ladies'-maids always got the +prime leavings): a liloc sattn gown, crumpled, blotched, and greasy; a +pair of white sattn shoes, of the color of Inger rubber; a faded yellow +velvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl flowers run to sead, and a bird +of Parrowdice perched on the top of it, melumcolly and moulting, with +only a couple of feathers left in his unfortunate tail. + +Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Lady and Miss Griffin kept a +number of other servants in the kitching; 2 ladies'-maids; 2 footmin, +six feet high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white cassymear +pantyloons; a coachmin to match; a page: and a Shassure, a kind +of servant only known among forriners, and who looks more like a +major-general than any other mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a unicorn +covered with silver lace, mustashos, eplets, and a sword by his side. +All these to wait upon two ladies; not counting a host of the fair sex, +such as cooks, scullion, housekeepers, and so forth. + +My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a grand sweet +of rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having thus described their +house, and their servants' hall, I may give a few words of description +concerning the ladies themselves. + +In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My lady was +twenty-seven--a widdo of two years--fat, fair, and rosy. A slow, quiet, +cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals generally are, it seemed +difficult to rouse her either into likes or dislikes; to the former, +at least. She never loved any body but ONE, and that was herself. She +hated, in her calm, quiet way, almost every one else who came near +her--every one, from her neighbor, the duke, who had slighted her at +dinner, down to John the footman, who had torn a hole in her train. I +think this woman's heart was like one of them lithograffic stones, you +CAN'T RUB OUT ANY THING when once it's drawn or wrote on it; nor could +you out of her ladyship's stone--heart, I mean--in the shape of an +affront, a slight, or real, or phansied injury. She boar an exlent, +irreprotchable character, against which the tongue of scandal never +wagged. She was allowed to be the best wife posbill--and so she was; but +she killed her old husband in two years, as dead as ever Mr. Thurtell +killed Mr. William Weare. She never got into a passion, not she--she +never said a rude word; but she'd a genius--a genius which many women +have--of making A HELL of a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures of +her family, until they were wellnigh drove mad. + +Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as amiable as +her mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted; my lady, to do her +justice, was straight, and looked the same way with her i's. She was +dark, and my lady was fair--sentimental, as her ladyship was cold. My +lady was never in a passion--Miss Matilda always; and awfille were the +scenes which used to pass between these 2 women, and the wickid, wickid +quarls which took place. Why did they live together? There was the +mistry. Not related, and hating each other like pison, it would surely +have been easier to remain seprat, and so have detested each other at a +distans. + +As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it was clear, +was very considrabble--300 thousand lb. at the least, as I have heard +say. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. Some said that her ladyship +was sole mistriss of it, others that it was divided, others that she had +only a life inkum, and that the money was all to go (as was natral) to +Miss Matilda. These are subjix which are not praps very interesting to +the British public, but were mighty important to my master, the +Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, +etsettler. + +For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very intimat in this +house; and that we were now comfortably settled at the Hotel Mirabew +(pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rew delly Pay, at Paris. We had +our cab, and two riding horses; our banker's book, and a thousand pound +for a balantz at Lafitt's; our club at the corner of the Rew Gramong; +our share in a box at the oppras; our apartments, spacious and elygant; +our swarries at court; our dinners at his excellency Lord Bobtail's +and elsewhere. Thanks to poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, we were as +complete gentlemen as any in Paris. + +Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself at the head of +a smart sum of money, and in a country where his debts could not bother +him, determined to give up for the present every think like gambling--at +least, high play; as for losing or winning a ralow of Napoleums at whist +or ecarty, it did not matter; it looks like money to do such things, and +gives a kind of respectabilaty. "But as for play, he wouldn't--oh no! +not for worlds!--do such a thing." He HAD played, like other young men +of fashn, and won and lost [old fox! he didn't say he had PAID]; but he +had given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said, to live +on his inkum. The fact is, my master was doing his very best to act +the respectable man: and a very good game it is, too; but it requires a +precious great roag to play it. + +He made his appearans reglar at church--me carrying a handsome large +black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the psalms and lessons marked +out with red ribbings; and you'd have thought, as I graivly laid the +volloms down before him, and as he berried his head in his nicely +brushed hat, before service began, that such a pious, proper morl, young +nobleman was not to be found in the whole of the peeridge. It was a +comfort to look at him. Efry old tabby and dowyger at my Lord Bobtail's +turned up the wights of their i's when they spoke of him, and vowed they +had never seen such a dear, daliteful, exlent young man. What a good son +he must be, they said; and oh, what a good son-in-law! He had the pick +of all the English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, +unfortunately, most of them were poar; and love and a cottidge was not +quite in master's way of thinking. + +Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. made their appearants +at Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon changed his noat. +He sate near them at chapple, and sung hims with my lady: he danced with +'em at the embassy balls; he road with them in the Boy de Balong and +the Shandeleasies (which is the French High Park); he roat potry in Miss +Griffin's halbim, and sang jewets along with her and Lady Griffin; he +brought sweet-meats for the puddle-dog; he gave money to the footmin, +kissis and gloves to the sniggering ladies'-maids; he was sivvle even +to poar Miss Kicksey; there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses that +didn't adoar this good young man. + +The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each other +now wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy between them: +miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty; madam of miss's espree: miss +taunting my lady about the school at Islington, and my lady sneering at +miss for her squint and her crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. +They both fell in love with Mr. Deuceace--my lady, that is to say, as +much as she could, with her cold selfish temper. She liked Deuceace, who +amused her and made her laff. She liked his manners, his riding, and his +good loox; and being a pervinew herself had a dubble respect for real +aristocratick flesh and blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flams +and fury. She'd always been at this work from the time she had been at +school, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master; next with +a footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no means unnatral or +unusyouall, as I COULD SHOW IF I LIKED); and so had been going on sins +fifteen. She reglarly flung herself at Deuceace's head--such sighing, +crying, and ogling, I never see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, +as I brought master skoars of rose-colored billydoos, folded up like +cockhats, and smellin like barber's shops, which this very tender young +lady used to address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and no +mistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good breading; and miss CAME +A LITTLE TOO STRONG (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression) with her +hardor and attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides, she had a crookid +spine, and a squint; so that (supposing their fortns tolrabbly equal) +Deuceace reely preferred the mother-in-law. + +Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most money. With +an English famly this would have been easy: a look at a will at Doctor +Commons'es would settle the matter at once. But this India naybob's +will was at Calcutty, or some outlandish place; and there was no getting +sight of a coppy of it. I will do Mr. Algernon Deuceace the justass to +say, that he was so little musnary in his love for Lady Griffin, that he +would have married her gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds less +than Miss Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both in +play, until he could strike the best fish of the two--not a difficult +matter for a man of his genus: besides, Miss was hooked for certain. + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"HONOR THY FATHER." + + +I said that my master was adoard by every person in my Lady Griffin's +establishmint. I should have said by every person excep one,--a young +French gnlmn, that is, who, before our appearants, had been mighty +partiklar with my lady, ockupying by her side exackly the same +pasition which the Honrable Mr. Deuceace now held. It was bewtiffle +and headifying to see how coolly that young nobleman kicked the poar +Shevalliay de L'Orge out of his shoes, and how gracefully he himself +stept into 'em. Munseer de L'Orge was a smart young French jentleman, +of about my master's age and good looks, but not possest of half my +master's impidince. Not that that quallaty is uncommon in France; +but few, very few, had it to such a degree as my exlent employer, Mr. +Deuceace. Besides De L'Orge was reglarly and reely in love with Lady +Griffin, and master only pretending: he had, of coars, an advantitch, +which the poor Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and gaty, +while Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My master had said twenty +pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the shevalier had finished +smoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his weskit. +O luv, luv! THIS isn't the way to win a woman, or my name's not Fitzroy +Yellowplush! Myself, when I begun my carear among the fair six, I +was always sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman. What was the +consquints? The foar fust women I adoared lafft at me, and left me for +something more lively. With the rest I have edopted a diffrent game, +and with tolerable suxess, I can tell you. But this is eggatism, which I +aboar. + +Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdinand Hyppolite +Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was reglar cut out by Munseer +Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand did not leave the +house--he hadn't the heart to do that--nor had my lady the desire +to dismiss him. He was usefle in a thousand different ways, gitting +oppra-boxes, and invitations to French swarries, bying gloves, and O de +Colong, writing French noats, and such like. Always let me recommend +an English famly, going to Paris, to have at least one young man of the +sort about them. Never mind how old your ladyship is, he will make love +to you; never mind what errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and do +them. Besides, he's always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx moar +than a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to consider. +Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de L'Orge--the greatest use +and comfort to my lady posbill; if it was but to laff at his bad +pronunciatium of English, it was somethink amusink; the fun was to pit +him against poar Miss Kicksey, she speakin French, and he our naytif +British tong. + +My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this poar young +Frenchman; and having kicked him out of the place which he occupied, +sertingly treated his fallen anymy with every respect and consideration. +Poar modist, down-hearted little Ferdinand adoured my lady as a goddice! +and so he was very polite likewise to my master--never venturing once to +be jellows of him, or to question my Lady Griffin's right to change her +lover, if she choase to do so. + +Thus, then, matters stood; master had two strinx to his bo, and might +take either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred: com bong lwee +somblay, as the Frentch say. His only pint was to discover how the money +was disposed off, which evidently belonged to one or other, or boath. +At any rate he was sure of one; as sure as any mortal man can be in this +sublimary spear, where nothink is suttin except unsertnty. + + . . . . . . + +A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal changed +my master's calkylations. + +One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after suppink +of white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang glassy (which means eyced), +at their house in the Plas Vandom, me and master droav hoam in the cab, +as happy as possbill. + +"Chawls you d----d scoundrel," says he to me (for he was in an exlent +humer), "when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis." + +This he might do, to be sure, without injuring himself, seeing that he +had us yet never paid me any. But, what then? Law bless us! things +would be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived on our WAGIS; our +puckwisits is the thing, and no mistake. + +I ixprest my gratitude as best I could; swoar that it wasn't for wagis +I served him--that I would as leaf weight upon him for nothink; and that +never, never, so long as I livd, would I, of my own accord, part from +such an exlent master. By the time these two spitches had been made--my +spitch and his--we arrived at the "Hotel Mirabeu;" which, us every body +knows, ain't very distant from the Plas Vandome. Up we marched to our +apartmince, me carrying the light and the cloax, master hummink a hair +out of the oppra, as merry as a lark. + +I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in the room; +an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floar, another on the table; near +which the sofy was drawn, and on it lay a stout old genlmn, smoaking +seagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room. + +Deuceace (who abommunates seagars, as I've already shown) bust into +a furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see for the +smoak; and, with a number of oaves quite unnecessary to repeat, asked +him what bisniss he'd there. + +The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his seagar, began a ror of +laffin, and said, "What! Algy my boy! don't you know me?" + +The reader may praps recklect a very affecting letter which was +published in the last chapter of these memoars; in which the writer +requested a loan of five hundred pound from Mr. Algernon Deuceace, and +which boar the respected signatur of the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Deuceace's +own father. It was that distinguished arastycrat who was now smokin and +laffin in our room. + +My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A stowt, burly, +red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose seemed blushing at what his +mouth was continually swallowing; whose hand, praps, trembled a little; +and whose thy and legg was not quite so full or as steddy as they +had been in former days. But he was a respecktabble, fine-looking old +nobleman; and though it must be confest, 1/2 drunk when we fust made our +appearance in the salong, yet by no means moor so than a reel noblemin +ought to be. + +"What, Algy my boy!" shouts out his lordship, advancing and seasing +master by the hand, "doan't you know your own father?" + +Master seemed anythink but overhappy. "My lord," says he, looking very +pail, and speakin rayther slow, "I didn't--I confess--the unexpected +pleasure--of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir, said he," recovering +himself a little; "the fact is, there was such a confounded smoke of +tobacco in the room, that I really could not see who the stranger was +who had paid me such an unexpected visit." + +"A bad habit, Algernon; a bad habit," said my lord, lighting another +seagar: "a disgusting and filthy practice, which you, my dear child, +will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, but a nasty, idle +pastime, unfitting a man as well for mental exertion as for respectable +society; sacrificing, at once, the vigor of the intellect and the graces +of the person. By-the-by, what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, in +this hotel. Could not you send your servant to get me a few seagars at +the Cafe de Paris? Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, +that's a good fellow." + +Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of shampang. +Very sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me on the errint. + +Knowing the Cafe de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say a word, +but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room; where, as it happened +by a singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of the conversation +between this exlent pair of relatifs. + +"Help yourself, and get another bottle," says my lord, after a sollum +paws. My poar master, the king of all other compnies in which he moved, +seamed here but to play secknd fiddill, and went to the cubbard, +from which his father had already igstracted two bottils of his prime +Sillary. + +He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the windows, +stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and suttnly +seamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no use; the old +one would not budg. "Help yourself," says he again, "and pass me the +bottil." + +"You are very good, father," says master; "but really, I neither drink +nor smoke." + +"Right, my boy: quite right. Talk about a good conscience in this +life--a good STOMACK is everythink. No bad nights, no headachs--eh? +Quite cool and collected for your law studies in the morning?--eh?" And +the old nobleman here grinned, in a manner which would have done creddit +to Mr. Grimoldi. + +Master sate pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier under the cat. +He didn't anser a word. His exlent pa went on, warming as he continued +to speak, and drinking a fresh glas at evry full stop. + +"How you must improve, with such talents and such principles! Why, +Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance: you're not +merely a philosopher, man; hang it! you've got the philosopher's stone. +Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all for 200 a year!" + +"I presume, sir," says my master, "that you mean the two hundred a year +which YOU pay me?" + +"The very sum, my boy; the very sum!" cries my lord, laffin as if he +would die. "Why, that's the wonder! I never pay the two hundred a year, +and you keep all this state up upon nothing. Give me your secret, O you +young Trismegistus! Tell your old father how such wonders can be worked, +and I will--yes, then, upon my word, I will--pay you your two hundred a +year!" + +"Enfin, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and losing all +patience, "will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit means? +You leave me to starve, for all you care; and you grow mighty facetious +because I earn my bread. You find me in prosperity, and--" + +"Precisely, my boy; precisely. Keep your temper, and pass that bottle. +I find you in prosperity; and a young gentleman of your genius and +acquirements asks me why I seek your society? Oh, Algernon! Algernon! +this is not worthy of such a profound philosopher. WHY do I seek you? +Why, because you ARE in prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil should +I bother my self about you? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, +ever get from you a single affectionate feeling? Did we, or any other of +your friends or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honest +or generous action? Did we ever pretend any love for you, or you for us? +Algernon Deuceace, you don't want a father to tell you that you are +a swindler and a spendthrift! I have paid thousands for the debts of +yourself and your brothers; and, if you pay nobody else, I am determined +you shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means, when I wrote +to you and asked you for a loan of money. I knew you would not. Had +I written again to warn you of my coming, you would have given me the +slip; and so I came, uninvited, to FORCE you to repay me. THAT'S why I +am here, Mr. Algernon; and so help yourself and pass the bottle." + +After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, and puffed +as much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chimley of a +steam-injian. I was pleased, I confess, with the sean, and liked to see +this venrabble and virtuous old man a-nocking his son about the hed; +just as Deuceace had done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, as I've before +shown. Master's face was, fust, red-hot; next, chawk-white: and then +sky-blew. He looked, for all the world, like Mr. Tippy Cooke in the +tragady of Frankinstang. At last, he mannidged to speek. + +"My lord," says he, "I expected when I saw you that some such scheme was +on foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at least it is but a family +failing; and I am indebted for my virtues to my father's precious +example. Your lordship has, I perceive, added drunkenness to the list +of your accomplishments, and, I suppose, under the influence of that +gentlemanly excitement, has come to make these preposterous propositions +to me. When you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, +that, fool as I may be, I am not such a fool as you think me; and that +if I have got money, I intend to keep it--every farthing of it, though +you were to be ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening as you +are now." + +"Well, well, my boy," said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have been half +asleep during his son's oratium, and received all his sneers and +surcasms with the most complete good-humor; "well, well, if you will +resist, tant pis pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you, recollect, and +am not in the slightest degree angry but I must and will have a thousand +pounds. You had better give me the money at once; it will cost you more +if you don't." + +"Sir," says Mr. Deuceace, "I will be equally candid. I would not give +you a farthing to save you from--" + +Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my hat, said, "I +have been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the house is shut." + +"Bon: there's a good lad; you may keep the five francs. And now, get me +a candle and show me down stairs." + +But my master seized the wax taper. "Pardon me, my lord," says he. +"What! a servant do it, when your son is in the room? Ah, par exemple, +my dear father," said he, laughing, "you think there is no politeness +left among us." And he led the way out. + +"Good night, my dear boy," said Lord Crabs. + +"God bless you, sir," says he. "Are you wrapped warm? Mind the step!" + +And so this affeckshnate pair parted. + + + +CHAPTER III. + +MINEWVRING. + + +Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants--he seamed to +think that his pa's visit boded him no good. I heard him muttering at +his brexfast, and fumbling among his hundred pound notes; once he had +laid a parsle of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to his +father. "But no," says he at last, clutching them all up together again, +and throwing them into his escritaw, "what harm can he do me? If he is +a knave, I know another who's full as sharp. Let's see if we cannot beat +him at his own weapons." With that Mr. Deuceace drest himself in his +best clothes, and marched off to the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to the +fair widdo and the intresting orfn. + +It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on seeing +them, a number of planns for the day's rackryation. Riding in the Body +Balong, going to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet (who was then +the raining sufferin of the French crownd) go to chapple, and, finely, +a dinner at 5 o'clock at the Caffy de Parry; whents they were all to +adjourn, to see a new peace at the theatre of the Pot St. Martin, called +Sussannar and the Elders. + +The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepositiums. "We have +an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon," said my lady. "Look--a very kind +letter from Lady Bobtail." And she handed over a pafewmd noat from that +exolted lady. It ran thus:-- + + +"FBG. ST. HONORE, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. + +"MY DEAR LADY GRIFFIN,--It is an age since we met. Harassing public +duties occupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have scarce time +to see our private friends; among whom, I hope, my dear Lady Griffin +will allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so unceremonious an +invitation, and dine with us at the embassy to-day? We shall be en +petite comite, and shall have the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some of +your charming daughter's singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, to +have addressed a separate, note to dear Miss Griffin; but I hope she +will pardon a poor diplomate, who has so many letters to write, you +know. + +"Farewell till seven, when I POSITIVELY MUST see you both. Ever, dearest +Lady Griffin, your affectionate + +"ELIZA BOBTAIL." + + +Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's Shassure, and +sealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody in the middling ranx +of life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with delight; and, long before my +master's arrivle, she'd sent Mortimer and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, +along with a polite reply in the affummatiff. + +Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt that there +was somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, though he could not tell +how, was sure that some danger was near him. That old fox of a father of +his had begun his M'Inations pretty early! + +Deuceace handed back the letter; sneared, and poohd, and hinted that +such an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a pees ally); +and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent because Lady Bobtail +wanted to fill up two spare places at her table. But Lady Griffin and +Miss would not have his insinwations; they knew too fu lords ever to +refuse an invitatium from any one of them. Go they would; and poor +Deuceace must dine alone. After they had been on their ride, and had had +their other amusemince, master came back with them, chatted, and laft; +he was mighty sarkastix with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss; +and left them both in high sperrits to perform their twollet, before +dinner. + +As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the house), +as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw master very +quietly taking his pocket-book (or pot fool, as the French call it) and +thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the sofa. What game is this? +thinx I. + +Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the ladies were +gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of his potfolio; +and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it there. + +"Pray," says he, on going in, "ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her for a +single moment." And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, and happy to +see him. + +"Law, Mr. Deuceace!" says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she +could, "you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, really, +being alone, to admit a gentleman." + +"Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here for +a double purpose--to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, and may, +perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will have the great +goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice +tea?" + +NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had eaten +a morsle of dinner! + +Never mind: down to tea they sat. "Do you take cream and sugar, dear +sir?" says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle-duff. + +"Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!" answers master; who stowed in a power of +sashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman. + +I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master and +this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the trouble to +talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He wanted to find +out from her all she knew about the famly money matters, and settle at +once which of the two Griffinses he should marry. + +The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. In +a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, "turned her +inside out." He knew everything that she knew; and that, poar creature, +was very little. There was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, +in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies +signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed equilly +divided betwigst them. + +NINE THOUSAND A YEAR! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his heart +beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he liked, be master +of five thousand per hannum! + +Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? All the +tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and Deuceace +thought it a pity that he could not marry both. + + . . . . . . + +The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their reception at +the ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, bid coachmin drive +on with a gentlemin who had handed them out--a stout old gentlemin, who +shook hands most tenderly at parting, and promised to call often upon my +Lady Griffin. He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the stairs with +her ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. "Edward," says she to +the coachmin, quite loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotel +should hear her, "you will take the carriage, and drive HIS LORDSHIP +home." Now, can you guess who his lordship was? The Right Hon. the +Earl of Crabs, to be sure; the very old genlmn whom I had seen on such +charming terms with his son the day before. Master knew this the nex +day, and began to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousand +pound. + +Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's only came +to my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, word for +word, as they was told me by the very genlmn who waited behind Lord +Crabseses chair. + +There was only a "petty comity" at dinner, as Lady Bobtail said; and my +Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Griffinses, being mighty ellygant +and palite to both. "Allow me," says he to Lady G. (between the soop and +the fish), "my dear madam, to thank you--fervently thank you for your +goodness to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, but, +I am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which must +fill a fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his child. Believe +me," says my lord, looking her full and tenderly in the face, "that the +favors you have done to another have been done equally to myself, and +awaken in my bosom the same grateful and affectionate feelings with +which you have already inspired my son Algernon." + +Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell into her +fish-plate: and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as she would so +many musharuins. My lord (whose powers of slack-jaw was notoarious) nex +addrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceace +was SITUATED. Miss blusht--what a happy dog he was--Miss blusht crimson, +and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and lobster +sos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless you! he was no moar +equill to the old man than a mole-hill is to a mounting. Before the +night was over, he had made as much progress as another man would in a +ear. One almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked +leering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, +and, above all, the bewtific, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of his +genral conservation. Praps you will say that these ladies were, for such +rich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated; but recklect, my dear sir, that +they were fresh from Injar,--that they'd not sean many lords,--that +they adoared the peeridge, as every honest woman does in England who has +proper feelinx, and has read the fashnabble novvles,--and that here at +Paris was their fust step into fashnabble sosiaty. + +Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing "Die tantie," or "Dip +your chair," or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs (when she began +this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets hold of Lady +Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a very different +strane. + +"What a blessing it is for us all," says he, "that Algernon has found a +friend so respectable as your ladyship." + +"Indeed, my lord; and why? I suppose I am not the only respectable +friend that Mr. Deuceace has?" + +"No, surely; not the only one he HAS HAD: his birth, and, permit me to +say, his relationship to myself, have procured him many. But--" (here my +lord heaved a very affecting and large sigh). + +"But what?" says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal face. +"You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them or is unworthy of them?" + +"I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, thoughtless, +extravagant, and embarrassed: and you know a man under these +circumstances is not very particular as to his associates." + +"Embarrassed? Good heavens! He says he has two thousand a year left him +by a god-mother; and he does not seem even to spend his income--a very +handsome independence, too, for a bachelor." + +My lord nodded his head sadly, and said,--"Will your ladyship give me +your word of honor to be secret? My son has but a thousand a year, which +I allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, madam, I fear; +and for this reason I am so glad to hear that he is in a respectable +domestic circle, where he may learn, in the presence of far greater and +purer attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which has +been his bane." + +My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was Deuceace +sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper wooing her +for her money? Could she doubt her informer? his own father, and, what's +more, a real flesh and blood pear of parlyment? She determined she would +try him. Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, until +she kem to feel how much she should HATE him if she found he'd been +playing her false. + +The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen,--my lord +driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking up +stairs to their own apartmince. + +Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, and +evidently full of a secret,--something mighty pleasant, to judge from +her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making tea for the ladies +(for in that house they took a cup regular before bedtime), "Well, my +lady," says she, "who do you think has been to drink tea with me?" Poar +thing, a frendly face was a event in her life--a tea-party quite a hera! + +"Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my lady, looking grave. "I wish, +Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my domestics. +Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin." + +"No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome +gentleman, too." + +"Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then," says Miss; "he promised to bring +me some guitar-strings." + +"No, nor yet M. de l'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to ask +for me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. Algernon +Deuceace;" and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands together, and +looked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin. + +"Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?" says my lady, who recklected all +that his exlent pa had been saying to her. + +"Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the +second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, and +stayed with me an hour, or moar." + +"And pray, Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, "what +may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. Algernon? Did +you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or metaphysics?" Miss M. +being what was called a blue (as most hump-backed women in sosiaty are), +always made a pint to speak on these grand subjects. + +"No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you know, +Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked about the +weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked +best; and then we talked" (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) "about poor +dear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he was, and--" + +"What a good fortune he left, eh, Miss Kicksey?" says my lady, with a +hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. + +"Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed husband, +and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite charming to +hear him, dear man!" + +"And pray, Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him?" + +"Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year, and--" + +"What then?" + +"Why, nothing; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had ninety," says +poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. + +"Ninety fiddlesticks! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the money was left, +and to which of us?" + +"Yes; but I could not tell him." + +"I knew it!" says my lady, slapping down her tea-cup,--"I knew it!" + +"Well!" says Miss Matilda, "and why not, Lady Griffin? There is no +reason you should break your tea-cup, because Algernon asks a harmless +question. HE is not mercenary; he is all candor, innocence, generosity! +He is himself blessed with a sufficient portion of the world's goods to +be content; and often and often has he told me he hoped the woman of his +choice might come to him without a penny, that he might show the purity +of his affection." + +"I've no doubt," says my lady. "Perhaps the lady of his choice is Miss +Matilda Griffin!" and she flung out of the room, slamming the door, and +leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, as was her reglar custom, and +pour her loves and woas into the buzzom of Miss Kicksey. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"HITTING THE NALE ON THE HEDD." + + +The nex morning, down came me and master to Lady Griffinses,--I amusing +myself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying his devours to the +ladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming on her gitter; my lady was +before a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers' books, +lawyers' letters, and what not. Law bless us! it's a kind of bisniss I +should like well enuff; especially when my hannual account was seven or +eight thousand on the right side, like my lady's. My lady in this house +kep all these matters to herself. Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentle +to mind business. + +Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in; she pinted gracefully to +a place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. My lady only looked +up for a moment, smiled very kindly, and down went her head among the +papers agen, as busy as a B. + +"Lady Griffin has had letters from London," says Miss, "from nasty +lawyers and people. Come here and sit by me, you naughty man you!" + +And down sat master. "Willingly," says he, "my dear Miss Griffin; why, I +declare, it is quits a tete-a-tete." + +"Well," says Miss (after the prillimnary flumries, in coarse), "we met a +friend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace." + +"My father, doubtless; he is a great friend of the ambassador, and +surprised me myself by a visit the night before last." + +"What a dear delightful old man! how he loves you, Mr. Deuceace!" + +"Oh, amazingly!" says master, throwing his i's to heaven. + +"He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you!" + +Master breathed more freely. "He is very good, my dear father; but +blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached to me." + +"He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you were +not his eldest son. 'I can but leave him the small portion of a younger +brother,' he said; 'but never mind, he has talents, a noble name, and an +independence of his own.'" + +"An independence? yes, oh yes; I am quite independent of my father." + +"Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother; the very same +you told us you know." + +"Neither more nor less," says master, bobbing his head; "a sufficiency, +my dear Miss Griffin,--to a man of my moderate habits an ample +provision." + +"By-the-by," cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the conversation, "you +who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would come to the +aid of poor ME! Come, naughty boy, and help me out with this long long +sum." + +DIDN'T HE GO--that's all! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt across +the room, and seated himself by my lady! + +"Look!" said she, "my agents write me over that they have received a +remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. a rupee. Do tell me what the sum +is, in pounds and shillings;" which master did with great gravity. + +"Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good; I daresay you are right. I'm sure +I can't go through the fatigue to see. And now comes another question. +Whose money is this, mine or Matilda's? You see it is the interest of a +sum in India, which we have not had occasion to touch; and, according to +the terms of poor Sir George's will, I really don't know how to dispose +of the money except to spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it?" + +"La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business yourself." + +"Well, then, Algernon, YOU tell me;" and she laid her hand on his and +looked him most pathetickly in the face. + +"Why," says he, "I don't know how Sir George left his money; you must +let me see his will, first." + +"Oh, willingly." + +Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns; he was +obliged to HOLD HIMSELF DOWN. + +"Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir George's own +manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not employ lawyers much, and this +was written on the night before going into action." And she read, "'I, +George Griffin,' &c. &c.--you know how these things begin--'being now of +sane mind'--um, um, um,--'leave to my friends, Thomas Abraham Hicks, +a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, and to John Monro +Mackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, at +Calcutta), the whole of my property, to be realized as speedily as they +may (consistently with the interests of the property), in trust for +my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only +legitimate child, Matilda Griffin. The interest resulting from such +property to be paid to them, share and share alike; the principal +to remain untouched, in the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. +Mackirkincroft, until the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, when +it shall be paid to my daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors, +or assigns.'" + +"There," said my lady, "we won't read any more; all the rest is stuff. +But now you know the whole business, tell us what is to be done with the +money?" + +"Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided between you." + +"Tant mieux, say I; I really thought it had been all Matilda's." + + . . . . . . + +There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been read. Master +left the desk at which he had been seated with her ladyship, paced up +and down the room for a while, and then came round to the place where +Miss Matilda was seated. At last he said, in a low, trembling voice,-- + +"I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have read that will +to me; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear, mercenary, +when the object of it is so greatly favored by worldly fortune. Miss +Griffin--Matilda! I know I may say the word; your dear eyes grant me the +permission. I need not tell you, or you, dear mother-in-law, how long, +how fondly, I have adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will +not affect to say I have not read your heart ere this, and that I have +not known the preference with which you have honored me. SPEAK IT, +dear girl! from your own sweet lips: in the presence of an affectionate +parent, utter the sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. +Matilda, dearest Matilda! say, oh say, that you love me!" + +Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell on +master's neck, whispering hodibly, "I DO!" + +My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth grinding, her i's +glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white; for all the world +like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of "Mydear" (when she's goin to mudder +her childring, you recklect); and out she flounced from the room, +without a word, knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near the +dor, and leaving my master along with his crook-back mistress. + +I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, I got +it in a ruff copy; only on the copy it's wrote, "Lady Griffin, Leonora!" +instead of "Miss Griffin, Matilda," as in the abuff, and so on. + +Master had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thought: but his +adventors an't over yet. + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GRIFFIN'S CLAWS. + + +Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time: thanx to +luck--the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the GOOLD NOBB, which +was the part Deuceace most valued, as well he should; being a connyshure +as to the relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much preferring +virging goold like this to poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin. + +And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace now +snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas, had +never stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idleness, +extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all kinds (which an't +GENERALLY very favorable to a young man who has to make his way in the +world); in spite of all, there he was, I say, at the topp of the trea, +the fewcher master of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of a +fool of a wife. What can mortial man want more? Vishns of ambishn now +occupied his soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full; +hunters at Melton; a seat in the house of Commins: heaven knows what! +and not a poar footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, in +cors, pennytrate into the idears and the busms of men. + +You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick now +from the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; and now, +nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in they came, +till my pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried 'em out) was +puffickly intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, and +other sense with which they were impregniated. Here's the contense +of three on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty years as +skeewriosities. Faw! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as I am copying +them down. + + +BILLY DOO. No. I. + +"Monday morning, 2 o'clock. + +"'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber, and falls +upon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing these words to +thee, my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my soul's lord! when shall +the time come when the tedious night shall not separate us, nor the +blessed day? Twelve! one! two! I have heard the bells chime, and the +quarters, and never cease to think of my husband. My adored Percy, +pardon the girlish confession,--I have kissed the letter at this place. +Will thy lips press it too, and remain for a moment on the spot which +has been equally saluted by your + +"MATILDA?" + + +This was the FUST letter, and was brot to our house by one of the poar +footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning. I thot it was +for life and death, and woak master at that extraornary hour, and gave +it to him. I shall never forgit him, when he red it; he cramped it up, +and he cust and swoar, applying to the lady who roat, the genlmn that +brought it, and me who introjuiced it to his notice such a collection of +epitafs as I seldum hered, excep at Billinxgit. The fact is thiss; for a +fust letter, miss's noat was RATHER too strong and sentymentle. But that +was her way; she was always reading melancholy stoary books--"Thaduse of +Wawsaw," the "Sorrows of MacWhirter," and such like. + +After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them, but handid them +over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be answered, +in order to kip up appearuntses. The next letter is + + +No. II. + +"BELOVED! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one! Lady Griffin, +since your avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your poor Matilda; +has declared that she will admit no one (heigho! not even you, my +Algernon); and has locked herself in her own dressing-room. I do believe +that she is JEALOUS, and fancies that you were in love with HER! Ha, ha! +I could have told her ANOTHER TALE--n'est-ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu! A +thousand thousand million kisses! + +"M. G. + +"Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock." + + +There was another letter kem before bedtime; for though me and master +called at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter at no price. Mortimer +and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to say we were going to be +relations; but I don't spose master was very sorry when he was obleached +to come back without seeing the fare objict of his affeckshns. + +Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game; ditto on Wensday; only, when +we called there, who should we see but our father, Lord Crabs, who was +waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying HE SHOULD BE BACK TO DINNER +AT 7, just as me and master came up the stares. There was no admittns +for us though. "Bah! bah! never mind," says my lord, taking his +son affeckshnately by the hand. "What, two strings to your bow; ay, +Algernon? The dowager a little jealous, miss a little lovesick. But my +lady's fit of anger will vanish, and I promise you, my boy, that you +shall see your fair one to-morrow." + +And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking at him as +tender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as posbill. Master +did not know what to think of it. He never new what game his old father +was at; only he somehow felt that he had got his head in a net, in spite +of his suxess on Sunday. I knew it--I knew it quite well, as soon as I +saw the old genlmn igsammin him by a kind of smile which came over his +old face, and was somethink betwigst the angellic and the direbollicle. + +But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every thing was bright +again. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath of witch I +here copy:-- + + +No. IX. + +"Thursday morning. + +"Victoria, Victoria! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to our +union, but her consent to receive you as before; and has promised +to forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever think of you as +anything but the lover of your Matilda? I am in a whirl of delicious +joy and passionate excitement. I have been awake all this long night, +thinking of thee, my Algernon, and longing for the blissful hour of +meeting. + +"Come! M. G." + + +This is the inclosier from my lady:-- + + +"I will not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply shock +me. I had been foolish enough to think of other plans, and to fancy your +heart (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere than on one at whose foibles +you have often laughed with me, and whose person at least cannot have +charmed you. + +"My step-daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least going +through the ceremony of asking my consent; I cannot, as yet, give it. +Have I not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in trusting herself +to you? + +"But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house all +those who may be agreeable to her,--certainly you, who are likely to be +one day so nearly connected with her. If I have honest reason to believe +that your love for Miss Griffin is sincere; if I find in a few months +that you yourself are still desirous to marry her, I can, of course, +place no further obstacles in your way. + +"You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise to +receive you as I did of old; you would despise me if I did. I can +promise, however, to think no more of all that has passed between +us, and yield up my own happiness for that of the daughter of my dear +husband. + +"L. E. G." + + +Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and natral +from a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated most scuvvily? +Master thought so, and went and made a tender, respeckful speach to Lady +Griffin (a little flumry costs nothink). Grave and sorroflle he kist her +hand, and, speakin in a very low adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witness +how he deplord that his conduct should ever have given rise to such an +unfornt ideer; but if he might offer her esteem, respect, the warmest +and tenderest admiration, he trusted she would accept the same, and a +deal moar flumry of the kind, with dark, sollum glansis of the eyes, and +plenty of white pockit-hankercher. + +He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool! he was in a net--sich a net as +I never yet see set to ketch a roag in. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE JEWEL. + + +The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my last, +who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming it so +very strong, now came back to his old place by the side of Lady Griffin: +there was no love now, though, betwigst him and master, although the +shevallier had got his lady back agin; Deuceace being compleatly devoted +to his crookid Veanus. + +The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt creature; and I +shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the heart to do +harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious tiger and +fire-eater as my master. But I see putty well, after a week, from his +manner of going on--of speakin at master, and lookin at him, and olding +his lips tight when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him with +his i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy. + +Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him: hated him wuss +than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in-law. Praps +you phansy that the letter you have juss red was honest; praps you +amadgin that the sean of the reading of the will came on by mere chans, +and in the reglar cors of suckmstansies: it was all a GAME, I tell +you--a reglar trap; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, as +neatly put his foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve. + +The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off the +feald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender than +befor. Por fellow, por fellow! he really loved this woman. He might as +well have foln in love with a bore-constructor! He was so blinded and +beat by the power wich she had got over him, that if she told him black +was white he'd beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'd +do it: she wanted something very like it, I can tell you. + +I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, master +used to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. The little +creature had a thowsnd of these; and being small, and a Frenchman, +master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humored kind of contemp +which a good Brittn ot always to show. He rayther treated him like an +intelligent munky than a man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean my +lady's footman. + +All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl betwigst +master and Lady Griffin; when that lady took care to turn the tables. +Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've heard the servants +say), she used to laff at shevalliay for his obeajance and sivillatty +to master. For her part, she wondered how a man of his birth could act +a servnt: how any man could submit to such contemsheous behavior from +another; and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at him +behind his back; how, in fact, he ought to hate him corjaly, and how it +was suttaly time to show his sperrit. + +Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was angry +or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. There got +to be frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words flung at each +other across the dinner-table; dispewts about handing ladies their +smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge; or going in and out of +a roam fust, or any such nonsince. + +"For hevn's sake," I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these tiffs, +say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, "do, do be calm, Mr. +Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him. You are, +both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family, that for its +peace as well as your own, you should forbear to quarrel." + +It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, and +it ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never forgit poar +little De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady said "both of you." He stair'd +at my lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, going +round to master, shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr. +Deuceace only bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately; Miss +heaved a loud O from her busm, and looked up in his face with an +igspreshn jest as if she could have eat him up with love; and the little +shevalliay sate down to his soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest +if he wasn't crying! He thought the widdow had made her declyration, and +would have him; and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time +mighty bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking with Miss. + +Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might have +done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her marrying +anybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this confision +which she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the French shevaleer. + +And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, that +when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag: you find him out at onst +when he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his cloven foot the +very instnt you tread on it. At least, this is what YOUNG roags do; it +requires very cool blood and long practis to get over this pint, and not +to show your pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. Old +Crabs wouldn't do it; being like another noblemin, of whom I heard the +Duke of Wellington say, while waiting behind his graci's chair, that if +you were kicking him from behind, no one standing before him would know +it, from the bewtifle smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't +got so far in the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. +And it's also to be remarked (a very profownd observatin for a footmin, +but we have i's though we DO wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked, +I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angry than another, +because honest men yield to other people, roags never do; honest men +love other people, roags only themselves; and the slightest thing which +comes in the way of thir beloved objects sets them fewrious. Master +hadn't led a life of gambling, swindling, and every kind of debotch to +be good-tempered at the end of it, I prommis you. + +He was in a pashun, and when he WAS in a pashn, a more insalent, +insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. + +This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him; for I must +tell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set master +and the shevalliay by the years, she had suxeaded only so far as to +make them hate each profowndly: but somehow or other, the 2 cox wouldn't +FIGHT. + +I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of her +ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls which +daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to come +from her; on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker between +them, as I've just shown in the tiff which took place at the door of +the Sally Mangy. Besides, the 2 young men, though reddy enough to snarl, +were natrally unwilling to come to bloes. I'll tell you why: being +friends, and idle, they spent their mornins as young fashnabbles +genrally do, at billiads, fensing, riding, pistle-shooting, or some such +improoving study. In billiads, master beat the Frenchman hollow (and +had won a pretious sight of money from him: but that's neither here nor +there, or, as the French say, ontry noo); at pistle-shooting, master +could knock down eight immidges out of ten, and De l'Orge seven; and in +fensing, the Frenchman could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry one +of his weskit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than onst, for +every Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd to do so in the +cors of his bisniss; and knowing each other's curridg, as well as the +fact that either could put a hundrid bolls running into a hat at 30 +yards, they wairnt very willing to try such exparrymence upon their own +hats with their own heads in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only +grould at each other. + +But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers; and when +in this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said that he walked +away from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in his sudden bust +of joyfle good-humor; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, +so very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and hotty, and, +taking his seat at table, no moor mindid the brandishments of Miss +Griffin, but only replied to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us +servnts, or abuse of the soop, or the wine; cussing and swearing like a +trooper, and not like a well-bred son of a noble British peer. + +"Will your ladyship," says he, slivering off the wing of a pully ally +bashymall, "allow me to help you?" + +"I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge." And towards +that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile. + +"Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de l'Orge's +carving. You used to like mine once." + +"You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will partake +of something a little simpler." + +The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy. +A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandrewed +down his shert-collar and virging-white weskit. + +"Confound you!" says he, "M. de l'Orge, you have done this on purpose." +And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler of wine, a deal +of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready to +cry. + +My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the best +joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. "Pardong," says he; +"meal pardong, mong share munseer." * And he looked as if he would have +done it again for a penny. + + * In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to + change the peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush. + +The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of a +suddn at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned against +his rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in English +to take a glass of wine. + +"Veal you," says he, in his jargin, "take a glas of Madere viz me, mi +ladi?" And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English manner +and pronunciation. + +"With the greatest pleasure," says Lady G., most graciously nodding at +him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused master +before, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer. + +Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, making +himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; and +my lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing every +think to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came: and by +this time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy +with pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with +smiles and master bloo with rage. + +"Mr. Deuceace," says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a little +chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), "may I trouble +you for a few of those grapes? they look delicious." + +For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it sliding +down the table to De l'Orge; upsetting, in his way, fruit-plates, +glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what. + +"Monsieur de l'Orge," says he, shouting out at the top of his voice, +"have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted MY grapes long ago, +and has found out they are sour!" + + . . . . . . + +There was a dead paws of a moment or so. + + . . . . . . + +"Ah!" says my lady, "vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans ma +propre maison--c'est par trop fort, monsieur." And up she got, and flung +out of the room. Miss followed her, screeching out, "Mamma--for God's +sake--Lady Griffin!" and here the door slammed on the pair. + +Her ladyship did very well to speak French. DE L'ORGE WOULD NOT HAVE +UNDERSTOOD HER ELSE; as it was he heard quite enough; and as the +door clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer and +Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master, and hits +him a slap on the face, and says, "prends ca, menteur et lache!" which +means, "Take that, you liar and coward!"--rayther strong igspreshns for +one genlmn to use to another. + +Master staggered back and looked bewildered; and then he gave a kind +of a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then me and +Mortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence embraced the +shevalliay. + +"A demain!" says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away, not +very sorry to git off. + +When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master: who swallowed +a goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pullout his pus, he +presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. "I will +give you five more to-morrow," says he, "if you will promise to keep +this secrit." + +And then he walked in to the ladies. "If you knew," says he, going up +to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at the +keyhole), "the pain I have endured in the last minute, in consequence of +the rudeness and insolence of which I have been guilty to your ladyship, +you would think my own remorse was punishment sufficient, and would +grant me pardon." + +My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. Deuceace +was her daughter's guest, and not hers; but she certainly would never +demean herself by sitting again at table with him. And so saying out she +boltid again. + +"Oh! Algernon! Algernon!" says Miss, in teers, "what is this dreadful +mystery--these fearful shocking quarrels? Tell me, has anything +happened? Where, where is the chevalier?" + +Master smiled and said, "Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. De +l'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute; he was too much in +love for that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe; and will +return to coffee." + +I knew what master's game was, for if miss had got a hinkling of the +quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her screeming +at the "Hotel Mirabeu," and the juice and all to pay. He only stopt +for a few minnits and cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend, +Captain Bullseye, of the Rifles; with whom, I spose, he talked over this +unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De l'Orge, saying +where his secknd was to be seen. + +Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's Messinger, +which I hear beg leaf to transcribe:-- + + +"FEARFUL DUEL.--Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took place, +in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D--ce-ce, a younger son +of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de l'O---. The chevalier was +attended by Major de M---, of the Royal Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D--- +by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far as we have been +able to learn the particulars of this deplorable affair, the dispute +originated in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliant +ornaments of our embassy), and the duel took place on the morning +ensuing. + +"The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateur +swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and the +combat took place with pistols. + +"The combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to advance +to a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each was furnished +with two pistols. Monsieur de l'O--- fired almost immediately, and the +ball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, who dropped the +pistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directly with his +right, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A +ball has entered above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope that +he can recover. + +"We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow which +the chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is some +reason for the unusual and determined manner in which the duel was +fought. + +"Mr. Deu--a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, the +Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sad +news, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate parental +attention. The news only reached his lordship yesterday at noon, while +at breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The noble +earl fainted on receiving the intelligence; but in spite of the shock to +his own nerves and health, persisted in passing last night by the couch +of his son." + + +And so he did. "This is a sad business, Charles," says my lord to me, +after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. "Have you +any segars in the house? And hark ye, send me up a bottle of wine and +some luncheon. I can certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dear +boy." + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE CONSQUINSIES. + + +The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own accord, in +the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which was brot on by the +wound. He was kept in bed for 6 weeks though, and did not recover for a +long time after. + +As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of his +advisary. Inflammation came on too; and, to make an ugly story short, +they were obliged to take off his hand at the rist. + +He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was well, and +his wound heel'd; but I never see a man look so like a devvle as he used +sometimes, when he looked down at the stump! + +To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd him the mor. She +sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her beloved, her +unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. I've kep some of the +noats, as I tell you, and curiously sentimentle they are, beating the +sorrows of MacWhirter all to nothing. + +Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and seagars +at our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there was an exycution +in his own house in England; and his son was a sure find (as they say) +during his illness, and couldn't deny himself to the old genlmn. His +eveninx my lord spent reglar at Lady Griffin's; where, as master was +ill, I didn't go any more now, and where the shevalier wasn't there to +disturb him. + +"You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace," says my lord, one day, in +a fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady Griffin: "SHE +HAS NOT DONE WITH YOU YET, I tell you fairly." + +"Curse her," says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm--"curse +her! but I will be even with her one day. I am sure of Matilda: I took +care to put that beyond the reach of a failure. The girl must marry me, +for her own sake." + +"FOR HER OWN SAKE! O ho! Good, good!" My lord lifted his i's, and said +gravely, "I understand, my dear boy: it is an excellent plan." + +"Well," says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his exlent old +father, "as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from the fiend of a +step-mother?" + +My lord only gev a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up his hat, +walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Vandome, and go in quite +calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless his old face! +such a puffickly good-natured, kind-hearted, merry, selfish old +scoundrel, I never shall see again. + +His lordship was quite right in saying to master that "Lady Griffin +hadn't done with him." No moar she had. But she never would have thought +of the nex game she was going to play, IF SOMEBODY HADN'T PUT HER UP TO +IT. Who did? If you red the above passidge, and saw how a venrabble old +genlmn took his hat, and sauntered down the Plas Vandome (looking hard +and kind at all the nussary-maids--buns they call them in France--in +the way), I leave you to guess who was the author of the nex scheam: a +woman, suttnly, never would have pitcht on it. + +In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuceace's adventers, +and his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkins and Blewitt, I had the honor +of laying before the public a skidewl of my master's detts, in witch was +the following itim: + + + "Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s, 4963L. 0s. 0d." + + +The I.O.U.se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills amountid to +four thowsnd moar. + +Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in England, and +a French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew the Englishman who +has drawn them, even though he should be in France. Master did not know +this fact--laboring under a very common mistak, that, when onst out of +England, he might wissle at all the debts he left behind him. + +My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who made +arrangemints with the persons who possest the fine collection of +ortografs on stampt paper which master had left behind him; and they +were glad enuff to take any oppertunity of getting back their money. + +One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard of our +hotel, talking to the servant-gals, as was my reglar custom, in order to +improve myself in the French languidge, one of them comes up to me and +says, "Tenez, Monsieur Charles, down below in the office there is +a bailiff, with a couple of gendarmes, who is asking for your +master--a-t-il des dettes par hasard?" + +I was struck all of a heap--the truth flasht on my mind's hi. +"Toinette," says I, for that was the gal's name--"Toinette," says +I, giving her a kiss, "keep them for two minits, as you valyou my +affeckshn;" and then I gave her another kiss, and ran up stares to our +chambers. Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound, and was +aloud to drive abowt: it was lucky for him that he had the strength to +move. "Sir, sir," says I, "the bailiffs are after you, and you must run +for your life." + +"Bailiff?" says he: "nonsense! I don't, thank heaven, owe a shilling to +any man." + +"Stuff, sir," says I, forgetting my respeck; "don't you owe money in +England? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will be on you in a +moment." + +As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the antyshamber, +and there they were sure enough! + +What was to be done? Quick as litening, I throws off my livry coat, +claps my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put on my livry. +Then I wraps myself up in his dressing-gown, and lolling down on the +sofa, bids him open the dor. + +There they were--the bailiff--two jondarms with him--Toinette, and an +old waiter. When Toinette sees master, she smiles, and says: "Dis donc, +Charles! ou est donc ton maitre? Chez lui, n'est-ce pas? C'est le jeune +a monsieur," says she, curtsying to the bailiff. + +The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, "Mais ce n'est pas!" when +Toinette stops him, and says, "Laissez donc passer ces messieurs, vieux +bete;" and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking their post in the hall. + +Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and touching MY hat +says, "Have you any orders about the cab, sir?" + +"Why, no, Chawls," says I; "I shan't drive out to-day." + +The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having had plenty +of English customers), and says in French, as master goes out, "I think, +sir, you had better let your servant get a coach, for I am under the +painful necessity of arresting you, au nom de la loi, for the sum of +ninety-eight thousand seven hundred francs, owed by you to the Sieur +Jacques Francois Lebrun, of Paris;" and he pulls out a number of bills, +with master's acceptances on them sure enough. + +"Take a chair, sir," says I; and down he sits; and I began to chaff him, +as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, my sad axdent, having +lost one of my hands, which was stuck into my busum, and so on. + +At last, after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and bust out +in a horse laff. + +The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect somethink. +"Hola!" says he; "gendarmes! a moi! a moi! Je suis floue, vole," which +means, in English, that he was reglar sold. + +The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and the +waiter. Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand from my +dressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck up on the chair one of the +neatest legs ever seen. + +I then pinted majestickly--to what do you think?--to my PLUSH TITES! +those sellabrated inigspressables which have rendered me famous in +Yourope. + +Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts rord out laffing; and +so did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old Grippard the +bailiff looked as if he would faint in his chare. + +I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel-gate, and knew then +that my master was safe. + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE END OF MR. DEUCEACE'S HISTORY. LIMBO. + + +My tail is droring rabidly to a close; my suvvice with Mr. Deuceace +didn't continyou very long after the last chapter, in which I described +my admiral strattyjam, and my singlar self-devocean. There's very few +servnts, I can tell you, who'd have thought of such a contrivance, and +very few moar would have eggsycuted it when thought of. + +But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in selling +master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may remember I woar, +and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets,--beyond this, +I say, there was to poar master very little advantich in what had been +done. It's true he had escaped. Very good. But Frans is not like Great +Brittin; a man in a livry coat, with 1 arm, is pretty easily known, and +caught, too, as I can tell you. + +Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moarover, if he +would. What was to become, in that case, of his bride--his unchbacked +hairis? He knew that young lady's temprimong (as the Parishers say) too +well to let her long out of his site. She had nine thousand a yer. +She'd been in love a duzn times befor, and mite be agin. The Honrabble +Algernon Deuceace was a little too wide awake to trust much to the +constnsy of so very inflammable a young creacher. Heavn bless us, it was +a marycle she wasn't earlier married! I do bleave (from suttn seans +that past betwigst us) that she'd have married me, if she hadn't been +sejuiced by the supearor rank and indianuity of the genlmn in whose +survace I was. + +Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. How was he to +manitch? He coodn get away from his debts, and he wooden quit the fare +objict of his affeckshns. He was ableejd, then, as the French say, to +lie perdew,--going out at night, like a howl out of a hivy-bush, and +returning in the daytime to his roast. For its a maxum in France (and I +wood it were followed in Ingland), that after dark no man is lible for +his detts; and in any of the royal gardens--the Twillaries, the Pally +Roil, or the Lucksimbug, for example--a man may wander from sunrise to +evening, and hear nothing of the ojus dunns: they an't admitted into +these places of public enjyment and rondyvoo any more than dogs; the +centuries at the garden-gates having orders to shuit all such. + +Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation--neither liking to go +nor to stay! peeping out at nights to have an interview with his miss; +ableagd to shuffle off her repeated questions as to the reason of all +this disgeise, and to talk of his two thowsnd a year jest as if he had +it and didn't owe a shilling in the world. + +Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch. + +He roat as many noats as she had done befor; swoar against delay and +cerymony; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, the ardship that the ardor +of two arts should be allowed to igspire, the folly of waiting for the +consent of Lady Griffin. She was but a step-mother, and an unkind one. +Miss was (he said) a major, might marry whom she liked; and suttnly had +paid Lady G. quite as much attention as she ought, by paying her the +compliment to ask her at all. + +And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when master was pressed +about his cause for not coming out till night-time, he was misterus; +and Miss Griffin, when asked why she wooden marry, igsprest, or rather, +DIDN'T igspress, a simlar secrasy. Wasn't it hard? the cup seemed to be +at the lip of both of 'em, and yet somehow, they could not manitch to +take a drink. + +But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote by my master +over night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer from his soal's beluffd, +which ran thus:-- + + +MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + +"DEAREST,--You say you would share a cottage with me; there is no need, +luckily, for that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits at +our delayed union. Beloved, do you think MY heart rejoices at our +separation? You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady Griffin, and tell +me that I owe her no further duty. + +"Adored Algernon! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to lose a +single chance of reconciliation with this unnatural step-mother. Respect +for the memory of my sainted father bid me do all in my power to gain +her consent to my union with you: nay, shall I own it? prudence dictated +the measure; for to whom should she leave the share of money accorded to +her by my father's will but to my father's child. + +"But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go; and, thank +heaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid wealth: we +have a competency without her. Is it not so, dearest Algernon? + +"Be it as you wish, then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor Matilda +has yielded to you her heart long ago; she has no longer need to keep +back her name. Name the hour, and I will delay no more; but seek for +refuge in your arms from the contumely and insult which meet me ever +here. + +"MATILDA. + +"P.S. Oh, Algernon! if you did but know what a noble part your dear +father has acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to further +our plans, and to soften Lady Griffin! It is not his fault that she is +inexorable as she is. I send you a note sent by her to Lord Crabs; we +will laugh at it soon, n'est-ce pas?" + + +II. + +"MY LORD,--In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in favor of +your son, Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat what I before have +been under the necessity of stating to you,--that I do not believe a +union with a person of Mr. Deuceace's character would conduce to my +stepdaughter's happiness, and therefore REFUSE MY CONSENT. I will +beg you to communicate the contents of this note to Mr. Deuceace; and +implore you no more to touch upon a subject which you must be aware is +deeply painful to me. + +"I remain your lordship's most humble servant, + +"L. E. GRIFFIN. + +"THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS." + + +"Hang her ladyship!" says my master, "what care I for it?" As for the +old lord who'd been so afishous in his kindness and advice, master +recknsiled that pretty well, with thinking that his lordship knew he was +going to marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to get some share of +it; for he roat back the following letter to his father, as well as a +flaming one to Miss: + + +"Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awkward business. +You know how painfully I am situated just now, and can pretty well guess +BOTH THE CAUSES of my disquiet. A marriage with my beloved Matilda will +make me the happiest of men. The dear girl consents, and laughs at +the foolish pretensions of her mother-in-law. To tell you the truth, I +wonder she yielded to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, +and find for us a parson, a license, and make us two into one. We are +both major, you know; so that the ceremony of a guardian's consent is +unnecessary. + +"Your affectionate + +"ALGERNON DEUCEACE. + +"How I regret that difference between us some time back! Matters are +changed now, and shall be more still AFTER THE MARRIAGE." + + +I knew what my master meant,--that he would give the old lord the money +after he was married; and as it was probble that miss would see the +letter he roat, he made it such as not to let her see two clearly into +his present uncomfrable situation. + +I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, reading both +of 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, gave an +inegspressable look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, and +prest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then they +fell a-talking together; and told me to wait awhile, and I should git an +anser. + +After a deal of counseltation, my lord brought out a card, and there was +simply written on it, + + + To-morrow, at the Ambassador's, at Twelve. + + +"Carry that back to your master, Chawls," says he, "and bid him not to +fail." + +You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave him the card +and the messinge. Master looked sattasfied with both; but suttnly +not over happy; no man is the day before his marridge; much more his +marridge with a hump-back, Harriss though she be. + +Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did what every +man in such suckmstances ought to do; he made his will,--that is, he +made a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to his creditors +telling them of his lucky chance; and that after his marridge he would +sutnly pay them every stiver. BEFORE, they must know his povvaty well +enough to be sure that paymint was out of the question. + +To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing that was +right, now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenients to do so. + +"Chawls," says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, "here's your wagis, +and thank you for getting me out of the scrape with the bailiffs: when +you are married, you shall be my valet out of liv'ry, and I'll treble +your salary." + +His vallit! praps his butler! Yes, thought I, here's a chance--a vallit +to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave him, and read his +notes, and let my whiskers grow; to dress in spick and span black, and a +clean shut per day; muffings every night in the housekeeper's room; the +pick of the gals in the servants' hall; a chap to clean my boots for me, +and my master's opera bone reglar once a week. I knew what a vallit was +as well as any genlmn in service; and this I can tell you, he's genrally +a hapier, idler, handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his master. He +has more money to spend, for genlmn WILL leave their silver in their +waistcoat pockets; more suxess among the gals; as good dinners, and +as good wine--that is, if he's friends with the butler: and friends in +corse they will be if they know which way their interest lies. + +But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call shutter +d'Espang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr. +Deuceace's vallit. + +Days will pass at last--even days befor a wedding, (the longist and +unpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you, excep, +may be, the day before his hanging); and at length Aroarer dawned on +the suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds of Hyming the +Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss Matilda Griffin. My +master's wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had been; for he'd left the +whole of his nicknax and trumpry of dressing-cases and rob dy shams, his +bewtifle museum of varnished boots, his curous colleckshn of Stulz and +Staub coats, when he had been ableaged to quit so suddnly our pore dear +lodginx at the Hotel Mirabew; and being incog at a friend's house, +ad contentid himself with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a +common tailor, with a suffishnt quantaty of linning. + +Well, he put on the best of his coats--a blue; and I thought it my duty +to ask him whether he'd want his frock again: he was good natured and +said, "Take it and be hanged to you." Half-past eleven o'clock came, +and I was sent to look out at the door, if there were any suspicious +charicters (a precious good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I can +tell you, and an i which will almost see one round a corner); and +presenly a very modest green glass coach droave up, and in master +stept. I didn't in corse, appear on the box; because, being known, my +appearints might have compromised master. But I took a short cut, and +walked as quick as posbil down to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, where +his exlnsy the English ambasdor lives, and where marridges are always +performed betwigst English folk at Paris. + + . . . . . . + +There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, of +that lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine-houses; and jest +as master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach drove off, out of +which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well,--suffiz, that one had +a humpback, and the ingenious reader will know why SHE came there; the +other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. + +Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few yards of +the door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down gits coachmin +to open the door, and comes I to give Mr. Deuceace an arm, when out +of the cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up betwigst the coach and +embassy-doar; two other chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, +opening it, one says--"Rendez-vous, M. Deuceace! Je vous arrete au nom +de la loi!" (which means, "Get out of that, Mr. D.; you are nabbed and +no mistake.") Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side +of the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and +was for making off that way; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigst +libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, +"Fouettez, cocher!" (which means, "Go it, coachmm!") in a despert loud +voice; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. + +The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the door +two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all; I knew my duty, and +so very mornfly I got up behind. + +"Tiens," says one of the chaps in the street; "c'est ce drole qui nous a +floure l'autre jour." I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to smile. + +"Ou irons-nous donc?" says coachmin to the genlmn who had got inside. + +A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the coachmin, "A +SAINTE PELAGIE!" + + . . . . . . + +And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the prizn of +Sainte Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or Queen's Bentch: but on +this subject I'm rather shy of writing, partly because the admiral Boz +has, in the history of Mr. Pickwick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, +that mine wooden read very amyousingly afterwids; and, also, because, +to tell you the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer to +waist my igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such a dull +place. + +My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat from master +to his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken aback, as I can +tell you, when she found, after remaining two hours at the Embassy, that +her husband didn't make his appearance. And so, after staying on and on, +and yet seeing no husband, she was forsed at last to trudge dishconslit +home, where I was already waiting for her with a letter from my master. + +There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he confest +it at onst: but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery of a friend, +infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. However, it didn't matter much; +if he had told her that he had been betrayed by the man in the moon, she +would have bleavd him. + +Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She kep one +drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another; they quarld so +much that praps it was best they should live apart; only my Lord Crabs +used to see both, comforting each with that winning and innsnt way he +had. He came in as Miss, in tears, was lisning to my account of master's +seazure, and hoping that the prisn wasn't a horrid place, with a nasty +horrid dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, and nasty horrid bread and water. +Law bless us! she had borrod her ideers from the novvles she had been +reading! + +"O my lord, my lord," says she, "have you heard this fatal story?" + +"Dearest Matilda, what? For heaven's sake, you alarm me! +What--yes--no--is it--no, it can't be! Speak!" says my lord, seizing me +by the choler of my coat. "What has happened to my boy?" + +"Please you, my lord," says I, "he's at this moment in prisn, no +wuss,--having been incarserated about two hours ago." + +"In prison! Algernon in prison! 'tis impossible! Imprisoned, for what +sum? Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing in my power." + +"I'm sure your lordship is very kind," says I (recklecting the sean +betwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a thowsand +lb.); "and you'll be happy to hear he's only in for a trifle. Five +thousand pound is, I think, pretty near the mark." + +"Five thousand pounds!--confusion!" says my lord, clasping his hands, +and looking up to heaven, "and I have not five hundred! Dearest Matilda, +how shall we help him?" + +"Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know how Lady Griffin +has the--" + +"Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say; but be of good +cheer--Algernon, you know, has ample funds of his own." + +Thinking my lord meant Dawkins's five thousand, of which, to be sure, a +good lump was left, I held my tung; but I cooden help wondering at Lord +Crabs's igstream compashn for his son, and Miss, with her 10,000L. a +year, having only 3 guineas is her pockit. + +I took home (bless us, what a home!) a long and very inflamble letter +from Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the disappointment; +swoar she lov'd him only the moar for his misfortns; made light of them; +as a pusson for a paltry sum of five thousand pound ought never to be +cast down, 'specially as he had a certain independence in view; and +vowed that nothing, nothing, should ever injuice her to part from him, +etsettler, etsettler. + +I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst me and my +lord, and of his handsome offers, and his horrow at hearing of his son's +being taken; and likewise mentioned how strange it was that Miss should +only have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn: bless us, I should have thot +that she would always have carried a hundred thowsnd lb. in her pockit! + +At this master only said Pshaw! But the rest of the story about his +father seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me repeat it over +agin. + +He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new lite +was breaking in upon him. + +"Chawls," says he, "did you observe--did Miss--did my father seem +PARTICULARLY INTIMATE with Miss Griffin?" + +"How do you mean, sir?" says I. + +"Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin?" + +"He was suttnly very kind to her." + +"Come, sir, speak at once: did Miss Griffin seem very fond of his +lordship?" + +"Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed VERY fond of him." + +"What did he call her?" + +"He called her his dearest gal." + +"Did he take her hand?" + +"Yes, and he--" + +"And he what?" + +"He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about the +misfortn which had hapnd to you." + +"I have it now!" says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashly +pail--"I have it now--the infernal old hoary scoundrel! the wicked, +unnatural wretch! He would take her from me!" And he poured out a volley +of oaves which are impossbill to be repeatid here. + +I thot as much long ago: and when my lord kem with his vizits so +pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such game +was in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a somethink of it from the Griffinses +servnts, that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. + +One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal capassaties; +he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very small chance +of having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, or his respectid +father might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. Oh! he saw it all +now--the fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixt at 12 o'clock, and +the bayliffs fixt to come and intarup the marridge!--the jewel, praps, +betwigst him and De l'Orge: but no, it was the WOMAN who did that--a +MAN don't deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son: a woman +may, poar thing!--she's no other means of reventch, and is used to fight +with underhand wepns all her life through. + +Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear that +he'd been beat by his father at his own game--a trapp set for him +onst, which had been defitted by my presnts of mind--another trap set +afterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as he +was, was much too good-natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly for +the sake of doing it. He'd got to that pich that he didn't mind +injaries--they were all fair play to him--he gave 'em, and reseav'd +them, without a thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it was +to benefick himself. And how was this to be done? By getting the hairiss +to himself, to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so; but I knew +his feelinx well enough--he regretted that he had not given the old +genlmn the money he askt for. + +Poar fello! he thought he had hit it; but he was wide of the mark after +all. + +Well, but what was to be done? It was clear that he must marry the gal +at any rate--cootky coot, as the French say: that is, marry her, and +hang the igspence. + +To do so he must first git out of prisn--to get out of prisn he must +pay his debts--and to pay his debts, he must give every shilling he +was worth. Never mind: four thousand pound is a small stake to a reglar +gambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot for life in prisn; and +when, if he plays it well, it will give him ten thousand a year. + +So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, and +accordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin:-- + + +"MY ADORED MATILDA,--Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor +fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed +in his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it within a +prison wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has brought these +liabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me so +much. But what matters! We have, as you say, enough, even though I +must pay this shameful demand upon me; and five thousand pounds are as +nothing, compared to the happiness which I lose in being separated a +night from thee! Courage, however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you; +and I were heartless indeed if I allowed my own losses to balance for a +moment against your happiness. + +"Is it not so, beloved one? IS not your happiness bound up with mine, +in a union with me? I am proud to think so--proud, too, to offer such a +humble proof as this of the depth and purity of my affection. + +"Tell me that you will still be mine; tell me that you will be mine +tomorrow; and to-morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I will +be free once more--or if bound, only bound to you! My adorable Matilda! +my betrothed bride! Write to me ere the evening closes, for I shall +never be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon my prison couch, until +they have been first blessed by the sight of a few words from thee! +Write to me, love! write to me! I languish for the reply which is to +make or mar me for ever. Your affectionate + +"A. P. D." + + +Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to carry, +and bade me at the same time to try and give it into Miss Griffin's hand +alone. I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I found Miss, as I desired, in +a sollatary condition; and I presented her with master's pafewmed Billy. + +She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and the +tears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed until I +thought she would bust. She even claspt my hand in her's, and said, "O +Charles! is he very, very miserable?" + +"He is, ma'am," says I; "very miserable indeed--nobody, upon my honor, +could be miserablerer." + +On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at onst: and +sitting down to her eskrewtaw, she immediantly ableaged master with an +answer. Here it is in black and white: + + +"My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in these +arms! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the same place, at +the same hour. Then, then, it will be impossible for aught but death to +divide us. + +"M. G." + + +This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles, and +cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better is it +to be puffickly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to the +writing of the heart. This is MY style: artyfiz I despise, and trust +compleatly to natur: but revnong a no mootong, as our continential +friends remark: to that nice white sheep, Algernon Percy Deuceace, +Exquire; that wenrabble old ram, my Lord Crabs his father; and that +tender and dellygit young lamb, Miss Matilda Griffin. + +She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the noat +transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, according to +my master's orders, "Miss, if you please, the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace +would be very much ableaged to you to keep the seminary which is to take +place to-morrow a profound se--," when my master's father entered, and I +fell back to the door. Miss, without a word, rusht into his arms, burst +into teers agin, as was her reglar way (it must be confest she was of +a very mist constitution), and showing to him his son's note, cried, +"Look, my dear lord, how nobly your Algernon, OUR Algernon, writes +to me. Who can doubt, after this, of the purity of his matchless +affection?" + +My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused, and +returning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, "My dear Miss +Griffin, he certainly does seem in earnest; and if you choose to make +this match without the consent of your mother-in-law, you know the +consequence, and are of course your own mistress." + +"Consequences!--for shame, my lord! A little money, more or less, what +matters it to two hearts like ours?" + +"Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but Three-per-Cents +are better." + +"Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the aid of Lady +Griffin?" + +My lord shrugged his shoulders. "Be it so, my love," says he. "I'm sure +I can have no other reason to prevent a union which is founded upon such +disinterested affection." + +And here the conversation dropt. Miss retired, clasping her hands, and +making play with the whites of her i's. My lord began trotting up and +down the room, with his fat hands stuck in his britchis pockits, his +countnince lighted up with igstream joy, and singing, to my inordnit +igstonishment: + + + "See the conquering hero comes! + Tiddy diddy doll--tiddy doll, doll, doll." + + +He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like mad. +I stood amazd--a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't going, then, to +make love to Miss Griffin! Master might marry her! Had she not got the +for--? + +I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands +puppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughts +passing in my mind, when my lord having got to the last "doll" of his +song, just as I came to the sillible "for" of my ventriloquism, or +inward speech--we had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, when the +meditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of his +singin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me up +aginst one end of the room, himself flying back to the other: and it +was only after considrabble agitation that we were at length restored to +anything like a liquilibrium. + +"What, YOU here, you infernal rascal?" says my lord. + +"Your lordship's very kind to notus me," says I; "I am here." And I gave +him a look. + +He saw I knew the whole game. + +And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave +he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in five +minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up to me, +says: + +"Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow." + +"Must it, sir?" says I; "now, for my part, I don't think--" + +"Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you gain?" + +This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situation, for +master had but just enough money to pay his detts; and it wooden soot my +book to serve him in prisn or starving. + +"Well," says my lord, "you see the force of my argument. Now, look +here!" and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! "If +my son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have this; and +I will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you double your +present wages." + +Flesh and blood cooden bear it. "My lord," says I, laying my hand upon +my busm, "only give me security, and I'm yours for ever." + +The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. "Right, my +lad," says he, "right--you're a nice promising youth. Here is the best +security." And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the hundred-pun +bill, and takes out one for fifty. "Here is half to-day; to-morrow you +shall have the remainder." + +My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit of +paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had in my +life. I cast my i upon the amount: it was a fifty sure enough--a bank +poss-bill, made payable to Leonora Emilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. +The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to see +the game. + +"Recollect, from this day you are in my service." + +"My lord, you overpoar me with your faviors." + +"Go to the devil, sir," says he: "do your duty, and hold your tongue." + +And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon Deuceace to +that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs. + + . . . . . . + +On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus place +to which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him; and felt for him, I +must say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he--a swindler, who +had robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance; who had cheated his +fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridge +with a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn on +my purt; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckmstansies of my +privit intervew with his exlnsy my presnt master. + +I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satasfied air. +Then, turning to me, says he: "You gave this to Miss Griffin alone?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You gave her my message?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave either +the message or the note?" + +"Not there upon my honor," says I. + +"Hang your honor, sir! Brush my hat and coat, and go CALL A COACH--do +you hear?" + + . . . . . . + +I did as I was ordered; and on coming back found master in what's +called, I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in waiting had +out a great register, and was talking to master in the French tongue, in +coarse; a number of poar prisners were looking eagerly on. + +"Let us see, my lor," says he; "the debt is 98,700 francs; there are +capture expenses, interest so much; and the whole sum amounts to a +hundred thousand francs, moins 13." + +Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocketbook four +thowsnd pun notes. "This is not French money, but I presume that you +know it, M. Greffier," says he. + +The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, who had one +or two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to be there. "Les billets +sont bons," says he. "Je les prendrai pour cent mille douze cent francs, +et j'espere, my lor, de vous revoir." + +"Good," says the greffier; "I know them to be good, and I will give my +lor the difference, and make out his release." + +Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the great +dubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace stept out +and me after him, to breathe the fresh hair. + +He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free again--free, +and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day. But, for all that, he +lookt very faint and pale. He HAD put down his great stake; and when he +came out of Sainte Pelagie, he had but fifty pounds left in the world! + +Never mind--when onst the money's down, make your mind easy; and so +Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew, where he ordered +apartmince infinately more splendid than befor; and I pretty soon told +Toinette, and the rest of the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, and how +he valyoud four thousnd pound no more than ditch water. And such was the +consquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, that +the delighted landlady immediantly charged him dubble what she would +have done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. + +He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week; a +carridge-and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely; and +having settled all these things, went quietly to the "Roshy de Cancale," +where he dined: as well he might, for it was now eight o'clock. I +didn't spare the shompang neither that night, I can tell you; for when +I carried the note he gave me for Miss Griffin in the evening, informing +her of his freedom, that young lady remarked my hagitated manner of +walking and speaking, and said, "Honest Charles! he is flusht with the +events of the day. Here, Charles, is a napoleon; take it and drink to +your mistress." + +I pockitid it; but, I must say, I didn't like the money--it went against +my stomick to take it. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE MARRIAGE. + + +Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was waiting at the +ambasdor's doar; and Miss Griffin and the faithfle Kicksey were punctial +to the apintment. + +I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary--how the embasy chapling +jined the hands of this loving young couple--how one of the embasy +footmin was called in to witness the marridge--how Miss wep and fainted +as usial--and how Deuceace carried her, fainting, to the brisky, and +drove off to Fontingblo, where they were to pass the fust weak of the +honey-moon. They took no servnts, because they wisht, they said, to +be privit. And so, when I had shut up the steps, and bid the postilion +drive on, I bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and went off strait to +his exlent father. + +"Is it all over, Chawls?" said he. + +"I saw them turned off at igsactly a quarter past 12, my lord," says I. + +"Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before her +marriage?" + +"I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bobtail's man; who +can swear to her having had it." + +I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper which Lady Griffin +had written, and which I was comishnd to give in the manner menshnd +abuff. It ran to this effect:-- + + +"According to the authority given me by the will of my late dear +husband, I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honorable +Algernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union, I warn +her that she must abide by the consequences of her act. + +"LEONORA EMILIA GRIFFIN." + +"RUE DE RIVOLI, May 8, 1818." + + +When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit before my +master's arrivle, she only read it contemptiously, and said, "I laugh at +the threats of Lady Griffin;" and she toar the paper in two, and walked +on, leaning on the arm of the faithful and obleaging Miss Kicksey. + +I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my lord. +Not that there was any necessaty; for he'd kep a copy, and made me and +another witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) read them both, before he +sent either away. + +"Good!" says he; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of that +bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. "I keep my +promise, you see, Charles," says he. "You are now in Lady Griffin's +service, in the place of Mr. Fitzclarence, who retires. Go to Froje's, +and get a livery." + +"But, my lord," says I, "I was not to go into Lady Griffnses service, +according to the bargain, but into--" + +"It's all the same thing," says he; and he walked off. I went to Mr. +Froje's, and ordered a new livry; and found, likwise, that our coachmin +and Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My lady's livery was changed, +and was now of the same color as my old coat at Mr. Deuceace's; and I'm +blest if there wasn't a tremenjious great earl's corronit on the butins, +instid of the Griffin rampint, which was worn befoar. + +I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured; and slep that +night at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with the carridge for a day +or two, though; my lady only taking one footmin, she said, until HER NEW +CARRIDGE was turned out. + +I think you can guess what's in the wind NOW! + +I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzen lawn +sherts and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary for a +genlmn in my rank. Silk stockings was provided by the rules of the +house. And I completed the bisniss by writing the follying ginteel +letter to my late master:-- + + +"CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE A. P. DEUCEACE. + +"SUR,--Suckmstansies have acurd sins I last had the honner of wating on +you, which render it impossbil that I should remane any longer in your +suvvice. I'll thank you to leave out my thinx, when they come home on +Sattady from the wash. + +"Your obeajnt servnt, + +"CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH." + +"PLAS VENDOME." + + +The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious; but ke +voolyvoo? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the expearance in writing +which I've enjide sins. + +Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in the nex +chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE HONEY-MOON. + + +The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away; and at the end of it, our son +and daughter-in-law--a pare of nice young tuttle-duvs--returned to their +nest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I suspeck that the COCK turtle-dove was +preshos sick of his barging. + +When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table was a large +parsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a couple of cards, +tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the parsle was a hansume piece +of plum-cake, with a deal of sugar. On the cards was wrote, in Goffick +characters, + + + Earl of Crabs. + + +And, in very small Italian, + + + Countess of Crabs. + + +And in the paper was the following parrowgraff:-- + + +"MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.--Yesterday, at the British embassy, the Right +Honorable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl of Crabs, to Leonora +Emilia, widow of the late Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. +B. An elegant dejeune was given to the happy couple by his Excellency +Lord Bobtail, who gave away the bride. The elite of the foreign +diplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia on +behalf of H. M. the King of France, honored the banquet and the marriage +ceremony. Lord and Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at Saint +Cloud." + + +The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of which I have +also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace on their arrivle from +Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what Deuceace said; but I can +fancy how he LOOKT, and how poor Mrs. Deuceace lookt. They weren't much +inclined to rest after the fiteeg of the junny; for, in 1/2 an hour +after their arrival at Paris, the hosses were put to the carridge +agen, and down they came thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud +(pronounst by those absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chaste +loves and delishs marridge injyments. + +My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on a sofa at +an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle; her ladyship, who, to du her +justice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end of the room, and +was working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an umbrellore case, or a +coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would have thought to have sean +'em that they had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon +this conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, "My lord, here's +your son and daughter-in-law." + +"Well," says my lord, quite calm, "and what then?" + +"Mr. Deuceace!" says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. + +"Yes, my love, my son; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, say +that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace; +and that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. Sit still, my +blessing--take things coolly. Have you got the box with the papers?" + +My lady pointed to a great green box--the same from which she had taken +the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them,--and handed over to my lord a +fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, gave +my messinge, and bowed them palitely in. + +My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little quicker, +but I can't say); my lady sat upright, looking handsum and strong. +Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his wife and hat on +the other. He looked very pale and frightened; his wife, poar thing! had +her head berried in her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. + +Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she was +less than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at onst, and +held out her arms--she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and I respect her +for it. The poor hunchback flung herself into Miss's arms, with a kind +of whooping screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite a +historical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, in cors, +left the door ajar. + +"Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy!" says my lord, in a loud, hearty +voice. "You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you rogue? But +we knew it, my dear fellow: we knew the whole affair--did we not, my +soul?--and you see, kept our secret better than you did yours." + +"I must confess, sir," says Deuceace, bowing, "that I had no idea of the +happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law." + +"No, you dog; no, no," says my lord, giggling: "old birds, you know, not +to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we are, all spliced +and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon; let us smoke a segar, and talk +over the perils and adventures of the last month. My love," says my +lord, turning to his lady, "you have no malice against poor Algernon, I +trust? Pray shake HIS HAND." (A grin.) + +But my lady rose and said, "I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I never +wished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, to +change my opinion." And herewith she sailed out of the room, by the door +through which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. + +"Well, well," says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, "I was in hopes she +had forgiven you; but I know the whole story, and I must confess you +used her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow!--that was your game, was +it, you rogue?" + +"Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and Lady +Grif--Lady Crabs, before our quarrel?" + +"Perfectly--you made love to her, and she was almost in love with +you; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off in +revenge: no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace; no more sauter la coupe. I +can't think how the deuce you will manage to live without them." + +"Your lordship is very kind; but I have given up play altogether," says +Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. + +"Oh, indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he? This is better and +better. Are you thinking of going into the church, Deuceace?" + +"My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious?" + +"Serious! a quoi bon? I am serious--serious in my surprise that, when +you might have had either of these women, you should have preferred that +hideous wife of yours." + +"May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish about +a wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to your own +son?" says Deuceace, growing fierce. + +"How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand pounds--there +is an execution at Sizes Hall--every acre I have is in the hands of +my creditors; and that's why I married her. Do you think there was any +love? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's not a fool--she +married me for my coronet, and I married her for her money." + +"Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married the +daughter-in-law." + +"Yes, but I DO, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to live? Dawkins's +five thousand pounds won't last forever; and afterwards?" + +"You don't mean, my lord--you don't--I mean, you can't-- D---!" says he, +starting up, and losing all patience, "you don't dare to say that Miss +Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year?" + +My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another segar; he +lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly-- + +"Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year." + +"Well, sir, and has she not got it now? Has she spent it in a week?" + +"SHE HAS NOT GOT A SIX-PENCE NOW: SHE MARRIED WITHOUT HER MOTHER'S +CONSENT!" + +Deuceace sunk down in a chair; and I never see such a dreadful picture +of despair as there was in the face of that retchid man!--he writhed, +and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled madly the stump +of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he threw it over his livid pale +face, and sinking backwards, fairly wept alowd. + +Bah! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying! his pashn torn up from +the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git such a +vent. My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and went on. + +"My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have left you +alone in peace, with your four thousand pounds: you might have lived +decently upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per cent, where your +duns would not find you, and a couple of hundred a year would have kept +you and your wife in comfort. But, you see, Lady Crabs would not listen +to it. You had injured her; and, after she had tried to kill you and +failed, she determined to ruin you, and succeeded. I must own to you +that I directed the arresting business, and put her up to buying your +protested bills: she got them for a trifle, and as you have paid them, +has made a good two thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painful +thing to be sure, for a father to get his son arrested; but que +voulez-vous! I did not appear in the transaction: she would have you +ruined; and it was absolutely necessary that YOU should marry before I +could, so I pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the happy +man you are. You rogue, you rogue! you thought to match your old father, +did you? But, never mind; lunch will be ready soon. In the meantime, +have a segar, and drink a glass of Sauterne." + +Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up wildly. + +"I'll not believe it," he said: "it's a lie, an infernal lie! forged +by you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet you have +married. I'll not believe it; show me the will. Matilda! Matilda!" +shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and flinging open the door by which she +had gone out. + +"Keep your temper, my boy. You ARE vexed, and I feel for you: but don't +use such bad language: it is quite needless, believe me." + +"Matilda!" shouted out Deuceace again; and the poor crooked thing came +trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. + +"Is this true, woman?" says he, clutching hold of her hand. + +"What, dear Algernon?" says she. + +"What?" screams out Deuceace,--"what? Why that you are a beggar, for +marrying without your mother's consent--that you basely lied to me, in +order to bring about this match--that you are a swindler, in conspiracy +with that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife?" + +"It is true," sobbed the poor woman, "that I have nothing; but--" + +"Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool?" + +"I have nothing!--but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is that +not enough for us? You love me for myself, don't you, Algernon? You have +told me so a thousand times--say so again, dear husband; and do not, do +not be so unkind." And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, and +tried to catch his hand, and kiss it. + +"How much did you say?" says my lord. + +"Two thousand a year, sir; he has told us so a thousand times." + +"TWO THOUSAND! Two thou--ho, ho, ho!--haw! haw! haw!" roars my lord. +"That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My dear +creature, he has not a shilling--not a single maravedi, by all the gods +and goddesses." And this exlnt noblemin began laffin louder than ever: a +very kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. + +There was a paws: and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing at +her husband as he had done at her: she only said, "O Algernon! is this +true?" and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. + +My lord opened the great box. "If you or your lawyers would like to +examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your service; you will see +here the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire fortune to +Lady Griffin--Lady Crabs that is: and here, my dear boy, you see the +danger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed you the FIRST PAGE +OF THE WILL, of course; she wanted to try you. You thought you made a +great stroke in at once proposing to Miss Griffin--do not mind it, my +love, he really loves you now very sincerely!--when, in fact, you +would have done much better to have read the rest of the will. You were +completely bitten, my boy--humbugged, bamboozled--ay, and by your old +father, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused to lend +me a portion of your Dawkins money. I told you I would; and I DID. I had +you the very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy; don't +try your luck again against such old hands: look deuced well before you +leap: audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, read both sides of the +will. I think lunch is ready; but I see you don't smoke. Shall we go +in?" + +"Stop, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: "I shall not share your +hospitality--but--but you know my condition; I am penniless--you know +the manner in which my wife has been brought up--" + +"The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, as if +nothing had occurred to interrupt the friendship between her dear mother +and herself." + +"And for me, sir," says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow; "I +hope--I trust--I think, my lord, you will not forget me?" + +"Forget you, sir; certainly not." + +"And that you will make some provision--?" + +"Algernon Deuceace," says my lord, getting up from the sophy, and +looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as I never see, "I declare, +before heaven, that I will not give you a penny!" + +Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, "My dear, +will you join your mother and me? We shall always, as I said, have a +home for you." + +"My lord," said the poar thing, dropping a curtsy, "my home is with +HIM!" + + . . . . . . + +About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, and +the autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my lady, me and Mortimer, +were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong, the carridge driving on slowly +ahead, and us as happy as possbill, admiring the pleasant woods and the +goldn sunset. + +My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit beauty of the +sean, and pouring forth a host of butifle and virtuous sentaments +sootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. "Ah!" said he, +"black must be the heart, my love, which does not feel the influence +of a scene like this; gathering as it were, from those sunlit skies, +a portion of their celestial gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven with +each pure draught of this delicious air!" + +Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked upwards. Mortimer +and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean, and lent on our +goold sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to us, and my lord +and my lady sauntered slowly tords it. + +Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a poorly drest +woman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom I thought I'd +sean befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat, with white seems and +copper buttons; a torn hat was on his head, and great quantaties of +matted hair and whiskers disfiggared his countnints. He was not shaved, +and as pale as stone. + +My lord and lady didn tak the slightest notice of him, but past on to +the carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took OUR places. As we past, the +man had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, who was holding down her +head sobbing bitterly. + +No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, with igstream +dellixy and good natur, burst into a ror of lafter, peal upon peal, +whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening silents. + +DEUCEACE turned round. I see his face now--the face of a devvle of hell! +Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to it with his maimed +arm; then he raised the other, AND STRUCK THE WOMAN BY HIS SIDE. She +fell, screaming. + +Poor thing! Poor thing! + + + + +MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. + + +The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end of my +corrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part with me as I am +with the public; becaws I fansy reely that we've become frends, and feal +for my part a becoming greaf at saying ajew. + +It's imposbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I have +done--violetting the rules of authography, and trampling upon the fust +princepills of English grammar. When I began, I knew no better: when I'd +carrid on these papers a little further, and grew accustmd to writin, I +began to smel out somethink quear in my style. Within the last sex weaks +I have been learning to spell: and when all the world was rejoicing at +the festivvaties of our youthful Quean--*when all i's were fixed upon +her long sweet of ambasdors and princes, following the splendid carridge +of Marshle the Duke of Damlatiar, and blinking at the pearls and dimince +of Prince Oystereasy--Yellowplush was in his loanly pantry--HIS eyes +were fixt upon the spelling-book--his heart was bent upon mastring the +diffickleties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, CONVERTID. + + +* This was written in 1838. + + +You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house; and ever sins his +third son has got a place in the Treasury, his secknd a captingsy in the +Guards, his fust, the secretary of embasy at Pekin, with a prospick +of being appinted ambasdor at Loo Choo--ever sins master's sons have +reseaved these attentions, and master himself has had the promis of a +pearitch, he has been the most reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in +or out of the House of Commins. + +Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave littery +pipple; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose name do you think +I had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a wick ago? After +several dukes and markises had been enounced, a very gentell fly drives +up to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen. One was pail, and wor +spektickles, a wig, and a white neckcloth. The other was slim with a +hook nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a pare of falling shoulders, a +tight coat, and a catarack of black satting tumbling out of his busm, +and falling into a gilt velvet weskit. The little genlmn settled his +wigg, and pulled out his ribbins; the younger one fluffed the dust of +his shoes, looked at his whiskers in a little pockit-glas, settled his +crevatt; and they both mounted upstairs. + +"What name, sir?" says I, to the old genlmn. + +"Name!--a! now, you thief o' the wurrld," says he, "do you pretind +nat to know ME? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa--no, I mane the Litherary +Chran--psha!--bluthanowns!--say it's DOCTHOR DIOCLESIAN LARNER--I think +he'll know me now--ay, Nid?" But the genlmn called Nid was at the botm +of the stare, and pretended to be very busy with his shoo-string. So the +little genlmn went upstares alone. + +"DOCTOR DIOLESIUS LARNER!" says I. + +"DOCTOR ATHANASIUS LARDNER!" says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd footman, +on the fust landing-place. + +"DOCTOR IGNATIUS LOYOLA!" says the groom of the chambers, who pretends +to be a scholar; and in the little genlmn went. When safely housed, +the other chap came; and when I asked him his name, said, in a thick, +gobbling kind of voice: + +"Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig." + +"Sir what?" says I, quite agast at the name. + +"Sawedwad--no, I mean MISTAWedwad Lyttn Bulwig." + +My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice shook, as +I past up the venrabble name to the other footman, and saw this fust of +English writers go up to the drawing-room! + +It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the compny, or to +dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to say that the two +littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have good appytights; +igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who et, drunk, and talked +as much as a duzn. He told how he'd been presented at cort by his +friend, Mr. Bulwig, and how the Quean had received 'em both, with a +dignity undigscribable; and how her blessid Majisty asked what was the +bony fidy sale of the Cabinit Cyclopaedy, and how be (Doctor Larner) +told her that, on his honner, it was under ten thowsnd. + +You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, was pretty far +gone. The fact is, that whether it was the coronation, or the goodness +of the wine (cappitle it is in our house, I can tell you), or the natral +propensaties of the gests assembled, which made them so igspecially +jolly, I don't know; but they had kep up the meating pretty late, and +our poar butler was quite tired with the perpechual baskits of clarrit +which he'd been called upon to bring up. So that about 11 o'clock, if I +were to say they were merry, I should use a mild term; if I wer to say +they were intawsicated, I should use a nigspresshn more near to the +truth, but less rispeckful in one of my situashn. + +The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute extonishment. + +"Pray, Doctor Larnder," says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep up the +littery conversation, "what is the Cabinet Cyclopaedia?" + +"It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld," says he; "and sure your +lordship must have seen it; the latther numbers ispicially--cheap as +durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shillings a vollum. The illusthrious +neems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther Southey, Sir James +Mackintosh, Docther Donovan, and meself, are to be found in the list of +conthributors. It's the Phaynix of Cyclopajies--a litherary Bacon." + +"A what?" says the genlmn nex to him. + +"A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age; fild wid the pure end +lambent flame of science, burning with the gorrgeous scintillations of +divine litherature--a monumintum, in fact, are perinnius, bound in pink +calico, six shillings a vollum." + +"This wigmawole," said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather disgusted that his +friend should take up so much of the convassation), "this wigmawole +is all vewy well; but it's cuwious that you don't wemember, in +chawactewising the litewawy mewits of the vawious magazines, cwonicles, +weviews, and encyclopaedias, the existence of a cwitical weview and +litewary chwonicle, which, though the aewa of its appeawance is +dated only at a vewy few months pwevious to the pwesent pewiod, is, +nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic mewits as to be wead, not +in the metwopolis alone, but in the countwy--not in Fwance merely, +but in the west of Euwope--whewever our pure Wenglish is spoken, it +stwetches its peaceful sceptre--pewused in Amewica, fwom New York to +Ningawa--wepwinted in Canada, from Montweal to Towonto--and, as I am +gwatified to hear fwom my fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle, +wegularly weceived in Afwica, and twanslated into the Mandingo +language by the missionawies and the bushwangers. I need not say, +gentlemen--sir--that is, Mr. Speaker--I mean, Sir John--that I allude +to the Litewary Chwonicle, of which I have the honor to be pwincipal +contwibutor." + +"Very true; my dear Mr. Bullwig," says my master: "you and I being +Whigs, must of course stand by our own friends; and I will agree, +without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary what-d'ye-call'em is +the prince of periodicals." + +"The pwince of pewiodicals?" says Bullwig; "my dear Sir John, it's the +empewow of the pwess." + +"Soit,--let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically call it: +but, between ourselves, confess it,--Do not the Tory writers beat your +Whigs hollow? You talk about magazines. Look at--" + +"Look at hwat?" shouts out Larder. "There's none, Sir Jan, compared to +ourrs." + +"Pardon me, I think that--" + +"It is 'Bentley's Mislany' you mane?" says Ignatius, as sharp as a +niddle. + +"Why, no; but--" + +"O thin, it's Co'burn, sure! and that divvle Thayodor--a pretty paper, +sir, but light--thrashy, milk-and-wathery--not sthrong, like the +Litherary Chran--good luck to it." + +"Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name of the +periodical, it's FRASER'S MAGAZINE." + +"FRESER!" says the Doctor. "O thunder and turf!" + +"FWASER!" says Bullwig. "O--ah--hum--haw--yes--no--why,--that is +weally--no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the name +of the pewiodical. By the by, Sir John, what wemarkable good clawet this +is; is it Lawose or Laff--?" + +Laff, indeed! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could kip +it neither,--for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind the +skreend, settlin somethink for the genlmn, I bust into such a raw of +laffing as never was igseeded. + +"Hullo!" says Bullwig, turning red. "Have I said anything impwobable, +aw widiculous? for, weally, I never befaw wecollect to have heard in +society such a twemendous peal of cachinnation--that which the twagic +bard who fought at Mawathon has called an anewithmon gelasma." + +"Why, be the holy piper," says Larder, "I think you are dthrawing a +little on your imagination. Not read Fraser! Don't believe him, my lord +duke; he reads every word of it, the rogue! The boys about that magazine +baste him as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out, Sir +Jan, was because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has every +syllable of it be heart--from the pailitix down to the 'Yellowplush +Correspondence.'" + +"Ha, ha!" says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my ears +prickt up when I heard the name of the "Yellowplush Correspondence"). +"Ha, ha! why, to tell truth, I HAVE wead the cowespondence to which you +allude: it's a gweat favowite at court. I was talking with Spwing Wice +and John Wussell about it the other day." + +"Well, and what do you think of it?" says Sir John, looking mity +waggish--for he knew it was me who roat it. + +"Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about the +cweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwabability, and +the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a positive +study to compwehend it." + +"Yes, faith," says Larner; "the arthagraphy is detestible; it's as bad +for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a brrogue. +Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my lord, and good +luck to you." + +"Yaw wemark," says Bullwig, "is vewy appwopwiate. You will wecollect, +Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you know more about Iwish +than about Gweek),--you will wecollect, without doubt, a stowy nawwated +by that cwedulous though fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind of +sheep which is known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of which +the tail is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or is +bound up by the shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, or +cart, which makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus 'the sheep +of Awabia have their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this +clawet is weally nectaweous)--I have often, I say, thought that the +wace of man may be compawed to these Awabian sheep--genius is our tail, +education our wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop it, this +genius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or injured +by the wocks upon the way: with the wheelbawwow it is stwengthened, +incweased, and supported--a pwide to the owner, a blessing to mankind." + +"A very appropriate simile," says Sir John; "and I am afraid that the +genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support." + +"Apropos," said Bullwig, "who IS Yellowplush? I was given to understand +that the name was only a fictitious one, and that the papers were +written by the author of the 'Diary of a Physician;' if so, the man has +wonderfully improved in style, and there is some hope of him." + +"Bah!" says the Duke of Doublejowl; "everybody knows it's Barnard, the +celebrated author of 'Sam Slick.'" + +"Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig; "it's the authoress of 'High +Life,' 'Almack's,' and other fashionable novels." + +"Fiddlestick's end!" says Doctor Larner; "don't be blushing and +pretinding to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It's +you yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the very +beginning." + +Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interrupted them, +and said,--"I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush is no +other than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your last +glass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an +ornament of my kitchen!" + +"Gad!" says Doublejowl, "let's have him up." + +"Hear, hear!" says Bagwig. + +"Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and talk to +a footman, sure? Is it gintale?" + +"To say the least of it," says Bullwig, "the pwactice is iwwegular, and +indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in any way +pwofitable." + +But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and +everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was wrung; +butler came. "Send up Charles," says master; and Charles, who was +standing behind the skreand, was persnly abliged to come in. + +"Charles," says master, "I have been telling these gentlemen who is the +author of the 'Yellowplush Correspondence' in Fraser's Magazine." + +"It's the best magazine in Europe," says the duke. + +"And no mistake," says my lord. + +"Hwhat!" says Larner; "and where's the Litherary Chran?" + +I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like +pickle-cabbitch. + +"Mr. Yellowplush," says his grace, "will you, in the first place, drink +a glass of wine?" + +I boughed agin. + +"And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy?" + +"Why, your grace," says I, "I know my place, and ain't above kitchin +wines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to the health of this +honrabble compny." + +When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me the +honor to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit; when my +master said:-- + +"Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's Magazine +with so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of your talents as a +writer, that I really cannot keep you as a footman any longer, or allow +you to discharge duties for which you are now quite unfit. With all my +admiration for your talents, Mr. Yellowplush, I still am confident that +many of your friends in the servants'-hall will clean my boots a great +deal better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to +do--it is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may be +writing articles in magazines. But--you need not look so red, my good +fellow, and had better take another glass of port--I don't wish to throw +you upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have made +interest for a little place which you will have under government, and +which will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum; which you can +double, I presume, by your literary labors." + +"Sir," says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, "do not--for +heaven's sake, do not!--think of any such think, or drive me from your +suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in magaseens. Glans +but one moment at your honor's plate--every spoon is as bright as a +mirror; condysend to igsamine your shoes--your honor may see reflected +in them the fases of every one in the company. I blacked them shoes, I +cleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the footman in +the litterary man, and committed to paper my remindicences of fashnabble +life, it was from a sincere desire to do good, and promote nollitch: and +I appeal to your honor,--I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of +this noble company beg you to say, When you rung your bell, who came to +you fust? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up for +you? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his station, +and answered the two-pair bell? Oh, sir," says I, "I know what's what; +don't send me away. I know them littery chaps, and, beleave me, I'd +rather be a footman. The work's not so hard--the pay is better: the +vittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to clean my things, and run my +errints, and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! Mr. +Bullwig! an't I right? shall I quit MY station and sink--that is to say, +rise--to YOURS?" + +Bullwig was violently affected; a tear stood in his glistening i. +"Yellowplush," says he, seizing my hand, "you ARE right. Quit not your +present occupation; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all your +life, but don't turn literary man. Look at me. I am the first novelist +in Europe. I have ranged with eagle wing over the wide regions of +literature, and perched on every eminence in its turn. I have gazed with +eagle eyes on the sun of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depths +of the human mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts are +known to me, all men understood by me. I have gathered wisdom from +the honeyed lips of Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of +Acadames--wisdom, too, from the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked +our 'backy in Seven Dials. Such must be the studies, and such is the +mission, in this world, of the Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge +is only emptiness; the initiation is but misery; the initiated, a man +shunned and bann'd by his fellows. Oh," said Bullwig, clasping his +hands, and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, "the curse of +Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue them +from genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the heaven-scaler, the +fire-stealer! Wo and thrice bitter desolation! Earth is the wock on +which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim--men, the vultures +that feed and fatten on him. Ai, ai! it is agony eternal--gwoaning and +solitawy despair! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these mystewies: +you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twemendous Pwesence. +Beware; as you value your peace, beware! Withdwaw, wash Neophyte! +For heaven's sake--O for heaven's sake!"--here he looked round with +agony--"give me a glass of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is beginning +to disagwee with me." + +Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own +sattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then swigged +off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as he took the +last gulph; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a chans, and, in +order to show his independence, began flatly contradicting his friend, +addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn present, in the following +manner:-- + +"Hark ye," says he, "my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the nonsinse +of that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, my bhoy: that's the +rale, undoubted thruth; and it's only to keep you out of litherary +life that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you what--Plush ye +blackguard,--my honorable frind the mimber there has told me a hunder +times by the smallest computation, of his intense admiration of your +talents, and the wonderful sthir they were making in the world. He can't +bear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatableness. Look at +him, Plush, and look at me. My father was not a juke exactly, nor aven +a markis, and see, nevertheliss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no +ixpinse; I'm the iditor of a cople of pariodicals; I dthrive about in me +carridge: I dine wid the lords of the land; and why--in the name of the +piper that pleed before Mosus, hwy? Because I'm a litherary man. Because +I know how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther Larner, in fact, and +mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have remained +all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an incom as that +offered you by Sir Jan; but I came to London--to London, my boy, and now +see! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He IS a gentleman, to be sure, and +bad luck to 'im, say I; and what has been the result of his litherary +labor? I'll tell you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the +shade of Saint Patrick, they're going to make him a BARINET." + +"A BARNET, Doctor!" says I; "you don't mean to say they're going to make +him a barnet!" + +"As sure as I've made meself a docthor," says Larner. + +"What, a baronet, like Sir John?" + +"The divle a bit else." + +"And pray what for?" + +"What faw?" says Bullwig. "Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? Ask +Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat Bwitish +nation, what faw? The blood in my veins comes puwified thwough ten +thousand years of chivalwous ancestwy; but that is neither here +nor there: my political principles--the equal wights which I have +advocated--the gweat cause of fweedom that I have celebwated, are known +to all. But this, I confess, has nothing to do with the question. No, +the question is this--on the thwone of litewature I stand unwivalled, +pwe-eminent; and the Bwitish government, honowing genius in me, +compliments the Bwitish nation by lifting into the bosom of the +heweditawy nobility, the most gifted member of the democwacy." (The +honrabble genlm here sunk down amidst repeated cheers.) + +"Sir John," says I, "and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint frend +Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has just sate +down, have made me change the detummination which I had the honor of +igspressing just now. + +"I igsept the eighty pound a year; knowing that I shall ave plenty of +time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set on that +same bentch of barranites, which is deckarated by the presnts of my +honrabble friend. + +"Why shooden I? It's trew I ain't done anythink as YET to deserve +such an honor; and it's very probable that I never shall. But +what then?--quaw dong, as our friends say? I'd much rayther have a +coat-of-arms than a coat of livry. I'd much rayther have my blud-red +hand spralink in the middle of a shield, than underneath a tea-tray. A +barranit I will be; and, in consiquints, must cease to be a footmin. + +"As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled: +they are, I know, necessary; but they ain't necessary UNTIL ASKT FOR; +besides, I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, and so ignirince on this +pint would be inigscusable. + +"But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit, and +another a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and another the +wife of a governor of the Cape of Good Hope, I begin to perseave that +the littery trade ain't such a very bad un; igspecially if you're up to +snough, and know what's o'clock. I'll learn to make myself usefle, in +the fust place; then I'll larn to spell; and, I trust, by reading the +novvles of the honrabble member, and the scientafick treatiseses of the +reverend doctor, I may find the secrit of suxess, and git a litell for +my own share. I've sevral frends in the press, having paid for many of +those chaps' drink, and given them other treets; and so I think I've got +all the emilents of suxess; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, to +igsept your kind offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yous +of when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however--" + +"I wish you'd withdraw yourself," said Sir John, bursting into a most +igstrorinary rage, "and not interrupt the company with your infernal +talk! Go down, and get us coffee: and, hark ye! hold your impertinent +tongue, or I'll break every bone in your body. You shall have the place +as I said; and while you're in my service, you shall be my servant; but +you don't stay in my service after to-morrow. Go down stairs, sir; and +don't stand staring here!" + + . . . . . . + +In this abrupt way, my evening ended; it's with a melancholy regret that +I think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am an altered, a +wiser, and, I trust, a better man. + +I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in the +style of my friend Bullwig; and preparing for publigation, in the +Doctor's Cyclopedear, "The Lives of Eminent British and Foring +Wosherwomen." + + + +SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV." + + +CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* + +DEAR WHY,--Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and me +(who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in Yorkshire +for six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old English +hospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our +sports in the country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four +posterses could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the +two vollumes of a new book; which, as I have been away from the literary +world, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying +neglected in my pantry, among my knife-cloaths, and dekanters, and +blacking-bottles, and bed-room candles, and things. + + +* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it +may be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that +"Oliver Yorke" is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical. + + +This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. I see +sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with me, and +have given their apinions concerning it: specially the Quotly Revew, +which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author of this Dairy of the +Times of George IV.* + + +* Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed +with Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, and from various +other distinguished Persons. + + "Tot ou tard, tout se scait."--MAINTENON. + +In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn. + + +That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the writing, +as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most suttnly a femail +wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, I, in coarse, can't +conjecter: and indeed, common galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only +judge of the book itself; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching +upon my ground and favrite subjicks, viz. fashnabble life, as igsibited +in the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. + +But I bare no mallis--infamation is infamation, and it doesn't matter +where the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from that +distinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed--whether, I say, +it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a scullion to that +diffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is nollidge; never mind how we +have it. Nollidge, as our cook says, is like trikel-possit--it's always +good, though you was to drink it out of an old shoo. + +Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my pussonal +intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my private +memoars--though many, many guineas, is taken from my pockit, by +cuttin short the tail of my narratif--though much that I had to say in +souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of my orytory, the +benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus +abruply brot befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor +writing English; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, what I am +puffickly prepaired to say, to gainsay which no man can say a word--yet +I say, that I say I consider this publication welkom. Far from viewing +it with enfy, I greet it with applaws; because it increases that most +exlent specious of nollidge, I mean "FASHNABBLE NOLLIDGE:" compayred +to witch all other nollidge is nonsince--a bag of goold to a pare of +snuffers. + +Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say what he had +tu say better? We are marters, both of us, to prinsple; and every body +who knows eather knows that we would sacrafice anythink rather than +that. Fashion is the goddiss I adoar. This delightful work is an offring +on her srine; and as sich all her wushippers are bound to hail it. +Here is not a question of trumpry lords and honrabbles, generals and +barronites, but the crown itself, and the king and queen's actions; +witch may be considered as the crown jewels. Here's princes, and +grand-dukes and airsparent, and heaven knows what; all with blood-royal +in their veins, and their names mentioned in the very fust page of the +peeridge. In this book you become so intmate with the Prince of Wales, +that you may follow him, if you please, to his marridge-bed: or, if +you prefer the Princiss Charlotte, you may have with her an hour's +tator-tator.* + + +* Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tete-a-tete.--O. Y. + + +Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this book have been given +already (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say,) I shall trouble +you, nevertheless, with a few; partly because they can't be repeated +too often, and because the toan of obsyvation with which they have been +genrally received by the press, is not igsackly such as I think they +merit. How, indeed, can these common magaseen and newspaper pipple know +anythink of fashnabble life, let alone ryal? + +Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has done reel good +on this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look through it, +for the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, and which I +think may be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick. + +For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that this is +no common catchpny book, like that of most authors and authoresses, who +write for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless you! the Dairy-maid is +above anything musnary. She is a woman of rank, and no mistake; and is +as much above doin a common or vulgar action as I am superaor to taking +beer after dinner with my cheese. She proves that most satisfackarily, +as we see in the following passidge:-- + + +"Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phrases +on different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes to have +published: her whole correspondence with the prince relative to Lady +J---'s dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the princess; and, finally, +the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland, +&c., at the time of the secret inquiry: when, if proof could have +been brought against her, it certainly would have been done; and which +acquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to the +justice of the nation in general, was not made public at the time. A +common criminal is publicly condemned or acquitted. Her royal highness +commanded me to have these letters published forthwith, saying, 'You may +sell them for a great sum.' At first (for she had spoken to me +before concerning this business), I thought of availing myself of the +opportunity; but upon second thoughts, I turned from this idea with +detestation: for, if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavoring +to serve her, I will do so at least from good and disinterested motives, +not from any sordid views. The princess commands me, and I will obey +her, whatever may be the issue; but not for fare or fee. I own I +tremble, not so much for myself, as for the idea that she is not taking +the best and most dignified way of having these papers published. Why +make a secret of it at all? If wrong, it should not be done; if right +it should be done openly, and in the face of her enemies. In her royal +highness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, why do +they shrink from straightforward dealings, and rather have recourse to +crooked policy? I wish, in this particular instance, I could make +her royal highness feel thus: but she is naturally indignant at being +falsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation." + + +Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The Dairy-lady is +quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no favior! "I +won't do behind my back what I am ashamed of before my face: not I!" No +more she does; for you see that, though she was offered this manyscrip +by the princess FOR NOTHINK, though she knew that she could actially get +for it a large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble, +grateful, fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and never +will have recors to disguise or crookid polacy. This ought to be an +ansure to them RADICLE SNEERERS, who pretend that they are the equals +of fashnabble pepple; wheras it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar +roagues have no notion of honor. + +And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her ladyship +(long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!)--after this +positif declaration, that, even for the porpus of DEFENDING her +missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a peculiarly +consideration, it is actially asserted in the public prints by a +booxeller, that he has given her A THOUSAND POUND for the Dairy. A +thousand pound! nonsince!--it's a phigment! a base lible! This woman +take a thousand pound, in a matter where her dear mistriss, friend, and +benyfactriss was concerned! Never! A thousand baggonits would be more +prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion. + +But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of my +expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionally +vulgar, and not such as is genrally used in those exqizzit famlies which +I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in this book, wrote as +all the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of kings and queens +as if they were as common as sand-boys--there is in this book more +wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dare +TO THINK ON, and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I was a boy at +school. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his own: never mind spellin, +I say, so long as the sence is right. + +Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming lady of +honor; and a very nice corryspondent he is, too, without any mistake: + + +"Lady O---, poor Lady O---! knows the rules of prudence, I fear me, as +imperfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars: or she +hath let her brother, who is a sad swine, become master of her secrets, +and then contrived to quarrel with him. You would see the outline of the +melange in the newspapers; but not the report that Mr. S--- is about to +publish a pamphlet, as an addition to the Harleian Tracts, setting forth +the amatory adventures of his sister. We shall break our necks in haste +to buy it, of course crying 'Shameful' all the while; and it is said +that Lady O--- is to be cut, which I cannot entirely believe. Let her +tell two or three old women about town that they are young and handsome, +and give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep the society +which she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as they once +were, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with anything like +impunity. People were full as gallant many years ago. But the days are +gone by wherein my lord-protector of the commonwealth of England was +wont to go a lovemaking to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. + +"And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband at last, and +Miss Laura Manners left without a mate! She and Lord Stair should marry +and have children in mere revenge. As to Miss Gordon, she's a Venus well +suited for such a Vulcan,--whom nothing but money and a title could +have rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen wench. It is said that the +matrimonial correspondence between this couple is to be published, full +of sad scandalous relations, of which you may be sure scarcely a word +is true. In former times, the Duchess of St. A---s made use of these +elegant epistles in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone: but that ruse +would not avail; so in spite, they are to be printed. What a cargo +of amiable creatures! Yet will some people scarcely believe in the +existence of Pandemonium. + +"Tuesday Morning.--You are perfectly right respecting the hot rooms +here, which we all cry out against, and all find very comfortable--much +more so than the cold sands and bleak neighborhood of the sea; which +looks vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon crimson +damask, but hideous and shocking in reality. H--- and his 'elle' +(talking of parties) were last night at Cholmondeley House, but seem +not to ripen in their love. He is certainly good-humored, and I believe, +good-hearted, so deserves a good wife; but his cara seems a genuine +London miss made up of many affectations. Will she form a comfortable +helpmate? For me, I like not her origin, and deem many strange things to +run in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil. + +"Thursday.--I verily do believe that I shall never get to the end of +this small sheet of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have I had; +and now I have been to Vauxhall, and caught the toothache. I was of Lady +E. B---m and H---'s party: very dull--the Lady giving us all a supper +after our promenade-- + + + 'Much ado was there, God wot + She would love, but he would not.' + + +He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it: and +she 'faisoit les yeux doux' enough not only to have melted all the ice +which he swallowed, but his own hard heart into the bargain. The thing +will not do. In the meantime, Miss Long hath become quite cruel to +Wellesley Pole, and divides her favor equally between Lords Killeen and +Kilworth, two as simple Irishmen as ever gave birth to a bull. I wish +to Hymen that she were fairly married, for all this pother gives one a +disgusting picture of human nature." + + +A disgusting pictur of human nature, indeed--and isn't he who moralizes +about it, and she to whom he writes, a couple of pretty heads in +the same piece? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, the scandle or the +scandle-mongers? See what it is to be a moral man of fashn. Fust, +he scrapes togither all the bad stoaries about all the people of +his acquentance--he goes to a ball, and laffs or snears at everybody +there--he is asked to a dinner, and brings away, along with meat and +wine to his heart's content, a sour stomick filled with nasty stories of +all the people present there. He has such a squeamish appytite, that all +the world seems to DISAGREE with him. And what has he got to say to his +delicate female frend? Why that-- + +Fust. Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady O---, his +sister, which everybody's goin to by. + +Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an usband; and that +all their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too. + +3. That Lord H. is going to be married; but there's some thing rong in +his wife's blood. + +4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two Irish lords. + +Wooden you phancy, now, that the author of such a letter, instead of +writin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin Vinegar Yard? +Would you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin to was a chased, modist +lady of honor, and mother of a famly? O trumpery! O morris! as Homer +says: this is a higeous pictur of manners, such as I weap to think of, +as evry morl man must weap. + +The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life: what follows +is about families even higher situated than the most fashnabble. Here +we have the princessregient, her daughter the Princess Sharlot, +her grandmamma the old quean, and her madjisty's daughters the two +princesses. If this is not high life, I don't know where it is to be +found; and it's pleasing to see what affeckshn and harmny rains in such +an exolted spear. + + +"Sunday 24th.--Yesterday, the princess went to meet the Princess +Charlotte at Kensington. Lady ---- told me that, when the latter +arrived, she rushed up to her mother, and said, 'For God's sake, be +civil to her,' meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. Lady +---- said she felt sorry for the latter; but when the Princess of Wales +talked to her, she soon became so free and easy, that one could not +have any FEELING about her FEELINGS. Princess Charlotte, I was told, was +looking handsome, very pale, but her head more becomingly dressed,--that +is to say, less dressed than usual. Her figure is of that full round +shape which is now in its prime; but she disfigures herself by wearing +her bodice so short, that she literally has no waist. Her feet are very +pretty; and so are her hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape of +her head. Her countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions to +play upon it; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, express so +many powerful and varied emotions. Lady ---- told me that the Princess +Charlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in a very +quiet, but determined way, she WOULD NOT BEAR IT, and that as soon as +parliament met, she intended to come to Warwick House, and remain there; +that she was also determined not to consider the Duchess of Leeds as +her GOVERNESS but only as her FIRST LADY. She made many observations +on other persons and subjects; and appears to be very quick, very +penetrating, but imperious and wilful. There is a tone of romance, too, +in her character, which will only serve to mislead her. + +"She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsor +between the queen and the prince, the former refusing to give up +Miss Knight from her own person to attend on Princess Charlotte as +sub-governess. But the prince-regent had gone to Windsor himself, and +insisted on her doing so; and the 'old Beguin' was forced to submit, +but has been ill ever since: and Sir Henry Halford declared it was a +complete breaking up of her constitution--to the great delight of the +two princesses, who were talking about this affair. Miss Knight was the +very person they wished to have; they think they can do as they like +with her. It has been ordered that the Princess Charlotte should not see +her mother alone for a single moment; but the latter went into her room, +stuffed a pair of large shoes full of papers, and having given them to +her daughter, she went home. Lady ---- told me everything was written +down and sent to Mr. Brougham NEXT DAY." + + +See what discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies. Here +are six of 'em--viz., the quean and her two daughters, her son, and his +wife and daughter; and the manner in which they hate one another is a +compleat puzzle. + + {his mother. + The Prince hates... {his wife. + {his daughter. + + Princess Charlotte hates her father. + + Princess of Wales hates her husband. + +The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death; and her two +jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a happy, fashnabble, +Christian famly! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if this is the way in the +drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live below, in pease and charaty with +all men; writin, as I am now, in my pantry, or els havin a quiet game at +cards in the servants-all. With US there's no bitter, wicked, quarling +of this sort. WE don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish +'em ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and queens +do. When we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, WE don't fill +our letters with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of our +fellow-servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does. But, +in coarse, it's not for us to judge of our betters;--these great people +are a supeerur race, and we can't comprehend their ways. + +Do you recklect--it's twenty years ago now--how a bewtiffle princess +died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole nation of Hengland +wep, as though it was one man, over that sweet woman and child, in which +were sentered the hopes of every one of us, and of which each was as +proud as of his own wife or infnt? Do you recklect how pore fellows +spent their last shillin to buy a black crape for their hats, and +clergymen cried in the pulpit, and the whole country through was no +better than a great dismal funeral? Do you recklet, Mr. Yorke, who +was the person that we all took on so about? We called her the Princis +Sharlot of Wales; and we valyoud a single drop of her blood more than +the whole heartless body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as a +kind of saint or angle, and blest God (such foolish loyal English pipple +as we ware in those days) who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. +But heaven bless you! it was only souperstition. She was no better than +she should be, as it turns out--or at least the Dairy-maid says so. No +better?--if my daughters or yours was 1/2 so bad, we'd as leaf be dead +ourselves, and they hanged. But listen to this pritty charritable story, +and a truce to reflexshuns:-- + + +"Sunday, January, 9, 1814.--Yesterday, according to appointment, I went +to Princess Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp-player, Dizzi; +was asked to remain and listen to his performance, but was talked to +during the whole time, which completely prevented all possibility of +listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her daughter were in +the room, but left it soon. Next arrived Miss Knight, who remained all +the time I was there. Princess Charlotte was very gracious--showed me +all her bonny dyes, as B---would have called them--pictures, and cases, +and jewels, &c. She talked in a very desultory way, and it would be +difficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very low +spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise? This +QUESTIONING answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves two +purposes--i.e. avoids committing oneself, or giving offence by silence. +There was hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst others, that +very much resembled the Duke of D---. I asked Miss Knight whom it +represented. She said that was not known; it had been supposed a +likeness of the Pretender, when young. This answer suited my thoughts so +comically I could have laughed, if one ever did at courts anything but +the contrary of what one was inclined to do. + +"Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in her +countenance--a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen in +connection with such soft and shadeless coloring. Her hands and arms +are beautiful; but I think her figure is already gone, and will soon be +precisely like her mother's: in short it is the very picture of her, and +NOT IN MINIATURE. I could not help analyzing my own sensations during +the time I was with her, and thought more of them than I did of her. Why +was I at all flattered, at all more amused, at all more supple to this +young princess, than to her who is only the same sort of person set +in the shade of circumstances and of years? It is that youth, and the +approach of power, and the latent views of self-interest, sway the heart +and dazzle the understanding. If this is so with a heart not, I trust, +corrupt, and a head not particularly formed for interested calculations, +what effect must not the same causes produce on the generality of +mankind? + +"In the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived to +edge in a good deal of tum-de-dy, and would, if I had entered into +the thing, have gone on with it, while looking at a little picture of +herself, which had about thirty or forty different dresses to put over +it, done on isinglass, and which allowed the general coloring of the +picture to be seen through its transparency. It was, I thought, a pretty +enough conceit, though rather like dressing up a doll. 'Ah!,' said Miss +Knight, 'I am not content though, madame--for I yet should have liked +one more dress--that of the favorite Sultana.' + +"'No, no!' said the princess, 'I never was a favorite, and never can be +one,'--looking at a picture which she said was her father's, but which +I do not believe was done for the regent any more than for me, but +represented a young man in a hussar's dress--probably a former favorite. + +"The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that was +taken of her birthday. After keeping me for two hours and a half she +dismissed me; and I am sure I could not say what she said, except that +it was an olio of decousus and heterogeneous things, partaking of the +characteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger scion. I dined +tete-a-tete with my dear old aunt: hers is always a sweet and soothing +society to me." + + +There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you! An innocent young +thing of fifteen has picturs of TWO lovers in her room, and expex a +good number more. This dellygate young creature EDGES in a good deal of +TUMDEDY (I can't find it in Johnson's Dixonary), and would have GONE ON +WITH THE THING (ellygence of languidge), if the dairy-lady would have +let her. + +Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't beleave a single +syllible of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust place, +that the princess would have talked a good deal of TUMDEDY: which means, +I suppose, indeasnsy, if she, the lady of honner WOULD HAVE LET HER. +This IS a good one! Why, she lets every body else talk tumdedy to their +hearts' content; she lets her friends WRITE tumdedy, and, after keeping +it for a quarter of a sentry, she PRINTS it. Why then, be so squeamish +about HEARING a little! And, then, there's the stoary of the two +portricks. This woman has the honner to be received in the frendlyest +manner by a British princess; and what does the grateful loyal creature +do? 2 picturs of the princess's relations are hanging in her room, and +the Dairy-woman swears away the poor young princess's carrickter, by +swearing they are picturs of her LOVERS. For shame, oh, for shame! you +slanderin backbitin dairy-woman you! If you told all them things to +your "dear old aunt," on going to dine with her, you must have had very +"sweet and soothing society" indeed. + +I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write about; but +I think I have said enough about this Dairy: in fack, the butler, and +the gals in the servants'-hall are not well pleased that I should go +on reading this naughty book; so we'll have no more of it, only one +passidge about Pollytics, witch is sertnly quite new:-- + + +"No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the Crown +Prince, from the intimate knowledge he possessed of his character. +Bernadotte was also instigated against Bonaparte by one who not only +owed him a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind equal to his, and +who gave the Crown Prince both information and advice how to act. This +was no less a person than Madame de Stael. It was not, as some have +asserted, THAT SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH BERNADOTTE; for, at the time of +their intimacy, MADAME DE STAEL WAS IN LOVE WITH ROCCA. But she used her +influence (which was not small) with the Crown Prince, to make him +fight against Bonaparte, and to her wisdom may be attributed much of the +success which accompanied his attack upon him. Bernadotte has raised the +flame of liberty, which seems fortunately to blaze all around. May it +liberate Europe; and from the ashes of the laurel may olive branches +spring up, and overshadow the earth!" + + +There's a discuvery! that the overthrow of Boneypart is owing to MADAME +DE STAEL! What nonsince for Colonel Southey or Doctor Napier to write +histories of the war with that Capsican hupstart and murderer, when here +we have the whole affair explaned by the lady of honor! + + +"Sunday, April 10, 1814.--The incidents which take place every hour are +miraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive; subdued, but allowed to +choose his place of residence. The island of Elba is the spot he has +selected for his ignominious retreat. France is holding forth repentant +arms to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. +to the scaffold are presenting flowers to the Emperor of Russia, +the restorer of their legitimate king! What a stupendous field for +philosophy to expatiate in! What an endless material for thought! What +humiliation to the pride of mere human greatness! How are the mighty +fallen! Of all that was great in Napoleon, what remains? Despoiled +of his usurped power, he sinks to insignificance. There was no +moral greatness in the man. The meteor dazzled, scorched, is put +out,--utterly, and for ever. But the power which rests in those who have +delivered the nations from bondage, is a power that is delegated to them +from heaven; and the manner in which they have used it is a guarantee +for its continuance. The Duke of Wellington has gained laurels unstained +by any useless flow of blood. He has done more than conquer others--he +has conquered himself: and in the midst of the blaze and flush of +victory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not been betrayed +into the commission of any act of cruelty or wanton offence. He was as +cool and self-possessed under the blaze and dazzle of fame as a common +man would be under the shade of his garden-tree, or by the hearth of his +home. But the tyrant who kept Europe in awe is now a pitiable object for +scorn to point the finger of derision at: and humanity shudders as it +remembers the scourge with which this man's ambition was permitted to +devastate every home tie, and every heartfelt joy." + + +And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflections and +pious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall only quot +one little extrak more:-- + + +"All goes gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell told +me she regrets not seeing all these curious personages; but she says, +the more the princess is forsaken, the more happy she is at having +offered to attend her at this time. THIS IS VERY AMIABLE IN HER, and +cannot fail to be gratifying to the princess." + + +So it is--wery amiable, wery kind and considerate in her, indeed. Poor +Princess! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you for your own +sake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its back kep steady to +you. As for believing that Lady Sharlot had any hand in this book,* +heaven forbid! she is all gratitude, pure gratitude, depend upon it. SHE +would not go for to blacken her old frend and patron's carrickter, after +having been so outrageously faithful to her; SHE wouldn't do it, at no +price, depend upon it. How sorry she must be that others an't quite +so squemish, and show up in this indesent way the follies of her kind, +genrus, foolish bennyfactris! + + +* The "authorized" announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets this +question at rest. It is declared that her ladyship is not the writer of +the Diary.--O. Y. + + + + +EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. + + +CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. + +JOHN THOMAS SMITH, ESQ., TO C--S Y--H, ESQ. + + +NOTUS. + + +The suckmstansies of the following harticle are as follos:--Me and +my friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each other in the +Haymarket Theatre, during the performints of the new play. I was settn +in the gallery, and sung out to him (he was in the pit), to jine us +after the play, over a glass of bear and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, +the family being out. + +Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of the comady; +and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a letter to the +other, giving our notiums of the pease. Paper was brought that momint; +and Smith writing his harticle across the knife-bord, I dasht off mine +on the dresser. + +Our agreement was, that I (being remarkabble for my style of riting) +should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up with the plot +of the play; and the candied reader will parding me for having holtered +the original address of my letter, and directed it to Sir Edward +himself; and for having incopperated Smith's remarks in the midst of my +own:-- + + +MAYFAIR, Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite. + +HONRABBLE BARNET!--Retired from the littery world a year or moar, I +didn't think anythink would injuice me to come forrards again: for I +was content with my share of reputation, and propoas'd to add nothink to +those immortial wux which have rendered this Magaseen so sallybrated. + +Shall I tell you the reazn of my re-appearants?--a desire for the +benefick of my fellow-creatures? Fiddlestick! A mighty truth with which +my busm labored, and which I must bring forth or die? Nonsince--stuff: +money's the secret, my dear Barnet,--money--l'argong, gelt, spicunia. +Here's quarter-day coming, and I'm blest if I can pay my landlud, unless +I can ad hartificially to my inkum. + +This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to blacard the +streets with it, or to tell the British public that Fitzroy Y-ll-wpl-sh +is short of money, or that the sallybrated hauthor of the Y--- Papers is +in peskewniary difficklties, or is fiteagued by his superhuman littery +labors, or by his famly suckmstansies, or by any other pusnal matter: +my maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be as quiet as posbile. What +the juice does the public care for you or me? Why must we always, in +prefizzes and what not, be a-talking about ourselves and our igstrodnary +merrats, woas, and injaries? It is on this subjick that I porpies, my +dear Barnet, to speak to you in a frendly way; and praps you'll find my +advise tolrabbly holesum. + +Well, then,--if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil, of us +poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like you, Barnet. +I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entry nou, that last stoary I +roat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir as ever was)--I've had +my fling at you; but I like you. One may objeck to an immense deal of +your writings, which, betwigst you and me, contain more sham scentiment, +sham morallaty, sham poatry, than you'd like to own; but, in spite of +this, there's the STUFF in you: you've a kind and loyal heart in you, +Barnet--a trifle deboshed, perhaps; a kean i, igspecially for what's +comic (as for your tradgady, it's mighty flatchulent), and a ready +plesnt pen. The man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don't +believe him, Barnet! not that I suppose you wil,--for, if I've formed +a correck apinion of you from your wucks, you think your small-beear as +good as most men's: every man does,--and why not? We brew, and we love +our own tap--amen; but the pint betwigst us, is this stewpid, absudd way +of crying out, because the public don't like it too. Why shood they, +my dear Barnet? You may vow that they are fools; or that the critix are +your enemies; or that the wuld should judge your poams by your critticle +rules, and not their own: you may beat your breast, and vow you are a +marter, and you won't mend the matter. Take heart, man! you're not so +misrabble after all: your spirits need not be so VERY cast down; you are +not so VERY badly paid. I'd lay a wager that you make, with one thing +or another--plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and +there--your three thowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig that +works for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you? Three thowsnd a +year is no such bad thing,--let alone the barnetcy: it must be a great +comfort to have that bloody hand in your skitching. + +But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and fond +of a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints,--this ceaseless +groning, and moning, and wining of yours, is igsackly the thing which +makes people laff and snear more? If you were ever at a great school, +you must recklect who was the boy most bullid, and buffited, and +purshewd--he who minded it most. He who could take a basting got but +few; he who rord and wep because the knotty boys called him nicknames, +was nicknamed wuss and wuss. I recklect there was at our school, in +Smithfield, a chap of this milksop, spoony sort, who appeared among the +romping, ragged fellers in a fine flanning dressing-gownd, that his mama +had given him. That pore boy was beaten in a way that his dear ma and +aunts didn't know him; his fine flanning dressing-gownd was torn all to +ribbings, and he got no pease in the school ever after, but was abliged +to be taken to some other saminary, where, I make no doubt, he was paid +off igsactly in the same way. + +Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet? Mutayto nominy--you know what +I mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy is the dressing-gownd. You +dress yourself out finer than other chaps and they all begin to sault +and hustle you; it's human nature, Barnet. You show weakness, think +of your dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry: it's all over with you; +the whole school is at you--upper boys and under, big and little; the +dirtiest little fag in the place will pipe out blaggerd names at you, +and takes his pewny tug at your tail. + +The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of stowt +shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggymuffins. A good +bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, "Wha dares meddle wi' me?" When +Scott got HIS barnetcy, for instans, did any one of us cry out? No, by +the laws, he was our master; and wo betide the chap that said neigh to +him! But there's barnets and barnets. Do you recklect that fine chapter +in "Squintin Durward," about the too fellos and cups, at the siege of +the bishop's castle? One of them was a brave warner, and kep HIS cup; +they strangled the other chap--strangled him, and laffed at him too. + +With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice: brazen it +out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of schoolboys--childish, +greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always ready to fight. What +must be a man's conduck among such? He must either take no notis, and +pass on myjastick, or else turn round and pummle soundly--one, two, +right and left, ding dong over the face and eyes; above all, never +acknowledge that he is hurt. Years ago, for instans (we've no ill-blood, +but only mention this by way of igsample), you began a sparring with +this Magaseen. Law bless you, such a ridicklus gaym I never see: a man +so belaybord, beflustered, bewolloped, was never known; it was the laff +of the whole town. Your intelackshal natur, respected Barnet, is not +fizzickly adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You must +not indulge in combats with us course bullies of the press: you have not +the STAMINY for a reglar set-to. What, then, is your plan? In the midst +of the mob to pass as quiet as you can: you won't be undistubbed. Who +is? Some stray kix and buffits will fall to you--mortial man is subjick +to such; but if you begin to wins and cry out, and set up for a marter, +wo betide you! + +These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure you, +written in perfick good-natur, and have been inspired by your play of +the "Sea Capting," and prefiz to it; which latter is on matters intirely +pusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this kind of ad hominam +(as they say) disk-cushion. I propose, honrabble Barnit, to cumsider +calmly this play and prephiz, and to speak of both with that honisty +which, in the pantry or studdy, I've been always phamous for. Let us, +in the first place, listen to the opening of the "Preface of the Fourth +Edition:" + + +"No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults and +deficiencies to be found in this play; but, perhaps, when it is +considered how very rarely it has happened in the history of our +dramatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, except by +those who have either been actors themselves, or formed their habits of +literature, almost of life, behind the scenes, I might have looked for +a criticism more generous, and less exacting and rigorous, than that +by which the attempts of an author accustomed to another class of +composition have been received by a large proportion of the periodical +press. + +"It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain +faults of two kinds, first, the faults of one who has necessarily much +to learn in the mechanism of his art; and, secondly, of one who, having +written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not unfrequently +mistake the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add to +these, perhaps, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health and +broken spirits, which render the author more susceptible than he might +have been some years since to that spirit of depreciation and hostility +which it has been his misfortune to excite amongst the general +contributors to the periodical press for the consciousness that every +endeavor will be made to cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in +fine, if possible, to RUN DOWN, will occasionally haunt even the hours +of composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. + +"Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope that +I may ultimately do better, should I continue to write for the stage +(which nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I may yet +bring some little aid to the drama, at a time when any aid, however +humble, ought to be welcome to the lovers of the art, could induce me to +do), may I be permitted to say a few words as to some of the objections +which have been made against this play?" + + +Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put forrards +here, why your play shouldn't be good. + +First. Good plays are almost always written by actors. + +Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. + +Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade, +and not a play-writer. + +Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. + +Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. + +For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these,--what painful +pewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven or +eight and thutty years old--"in the morning of youth," as the flosofer +says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What, +you, an old hand amongst us,--an old soljer of our sovring quean the +press,--you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay, +and DESERVED them too!--I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, "I +AM a man of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says so"),--you to lose heart, and cry +pickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys fling stones at you! +Fie, man! take courage; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, +as the poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man, +or bear your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such +misrabble lodgic as that above. + +What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (the +secknd is naught,--for your no such chicking at play-writing, this being +the forth). You show that the play must be bad, and THEN begin to deal +with the critix for finding folt! + +Was there ever wuss generalship? The play IS bad,--your right--a wuss I +never see or read. But why kneed YOU say so? If it was so VERY bad, why +publish it? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO SERVE THE DRAMA! O fie! don't lay that +flattering function to your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believe +that this "Sea Capting" can serve the drama? Did you never intend that +it should serve anything, or anybody ELSE? Of cors you did! You wrote it +for money,--money from the maniger, money from the bookseller,--for the +same reason that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very same +reasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Away +with this canting about great motifs! Let us not be too prowd, my dear +Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters or apostels. +We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and not for righteousness' +sake. Let's try and work honestly; but don't let us be prayting pompisly +about our "sacred calling." The taylor who makes your coats (and very +well they are made too, with the best of velvit collars)--I say Stulze, +or Nugee, might cry out that THEIR motifs were but to assert the eturnle +truth of tayloring, with just as much reazn; and who would believe them? + +Well; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come sefral pages +of attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry have found with it. +With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You defend all the characters +1 by 1, and conclude your remarks as follows:-- + + +"I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs. When every +means is employed to misrepresent, it becomes, perhaps, allowable to +explain. And if I do not think that my faults as a dramatic author are +to be found in the study and delineation of character, it is precisely +because THAT is the point on which all my previous pursuits in +literature and actual life would be most likely to preserve me from the +errors I own elsewhere, whether of misjudgment or inexperience. + +"I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and talent +with which they have embodied the characters entrusted to them. The +sweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit embellished the part of +Violet, which, though only a sketch, is most necessary to the coloring +and harmony of the play, were perhaps the more pleasing to the audience +from the generosity, rare with actors, which induced her to take a +part so far inferior to her powers. The applause which attends the +performance of Mrs. Warner and Mr. Strickland attests their success +in characters of unusual difficulty; while the singular beauty and +nobleness, whether of conception or execution, with which the greatest +of living actors has elevated the part of Norman (so totally different +from his ordinary range of character), is a new proof of his versatility +and accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be scarcely +gracious to conclude these remarks without expressing my acknowledgment +of that generous and indulgent sense of justice which, forgetting all +political differences in a literary arena, has enabled me to appeal to +approving audiences--from hostile critics. And it is this which alone +encourages me to hope that, sooner or later, I may add to the dramatic +literature of my country something that may find, perhaps, almost as +many friends in the next age as it has been the fate of the author to +find enemies in this." + + +See, now, what a good comfrabble vanaty is! Pepple have quarld with the +dramatic characters of your play. "No," says you; "if I AM remarkabble +for anythink, it's for my study and delineation of character; THAT is +presizely the pint to which my littery purshuits have led me." Have you +read "Jil Blaw," my dear sir? Have you pirouzed that exlent tragady, the +"Critic?" There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and the +Archbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't laff till my sides +ake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which you are +famus!--the roags! And spose they had said the plot was absudd, or the +langwitch absudder still, don't you think you would have had a word in +defens of them too--you who hope to find frends for your dramatic wux +in the nex age? Poo! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will be +wiser and better than this; and do you think that it will imply itself a +reading of your trajadies? This is misantrofy, Barnet--reglar Byronism; +and you ot to have a better apinian of human natur. + +Your apinion about the actors I shan't here meddle with. They all acted +exlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your write in giving +them all possible prays. But let's consider the last sentence of the +prefiz, my dear Barnet, and see what a pretty set of apiniuns you lay +down. + +1. The critix are your inymies in this age. + +2. In the nex, however, you hope to find newmrous frends. + +3. And it's a satisfackshn to think that, in spite of politticle +diffrances, you have found frendly aujences here. + +Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with what my friend +Father Prout calls an argamantum ad misericorjam, who ignowledges that +his play is bad, that his pore dear helth is bad, and those cussid +critix have played the juice with him--I say, for a man who beginns in +such a humbill toan, it's rather RICH to see how you end. + +My dear Barnet, DO you suppose that POLITTICLE DIFFRANCES prejudice +pepple against YOU? What ARE your politix? Wig, I presume--so are mine, +ontry noo. And what if they ARE Wig, or Raddiccle, or Cumsuvvative? Does +any mortial man in England care a phig for your politix? Do you think +yourself such a mity man in parlymint, that critix are to be angry with +you, and aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because they treat you +fairly? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat the "Rifles" and "School +for Scandle" (I saw the "Rifles" after your play, and, O Barnet, if +you KNEW what a relief it was!)--there, I say, was Sherridn--he WAS a +politticle character, if you please--he COULD make a spitch or two--do +you spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third +himself, wooden go to see the "Rivles"--ay, and clap hands too, and +laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery? Do you spose the critix wouldn't +applaud too? For shame, Barnet! what ninnis, what hartless raskles, you +must beleave them to be,--in the fust plase, to fancy that you are a +politticle genus; in the secknd, to let your politix interfear with +their notiums about littery merits! + +"Put that nonsince out of your head," as Fox said to Bonypart. Wasn't +it that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's time, +who fansid that the French king wooden make pease unless Dennis +was delivered up to him? Upon my wud, I doan't think he carrid +his diddlusion much further than a serting honrabble barnet of my +aquentance. + +And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another diddlusion; +a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y--sh. These plays +immortial? Ah, parrysampe, as the French say, this is too strong--the +small-beer of the "Sea Capting," or of any suxessor of the "Sea +Capting," to keep sweet for sentries and sentries! Barnet, Barnet! do +you know the natur of bear? Six weeks is not past, and here your last +casque is sour--the public won't even now drink it; and I lay a wager +that, betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and the end of the +year, the barl will be off the stox altogether, never, never to return. + +I've notted down a few frazes here and there, which you will do well do +igsamin:-- + + + NORMAN. + + "The eternal Flora + Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind; + While circling round and upwards from the boughs, + Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, + Melody, like a happy soul released, + Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes + Shakes sweetness down!" + + + NORMAN. + + "And these the lips + Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss + Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left + By ANGELS when they touch the earth and vanish." + + + NORMAN. + + "Hark! she has blessed her son! I bid ye witness, + Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air: + The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur + Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes + Aloud--aloft--to the Great Parent's ear, + The blessing of the mother on her child." + + + NORMAN. + + "I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart + Mingled with mine--a deathless heritage, + Which I can take unsullied to the STARS, + When the Great Father calls his children home." + + + NORMAN. + + "The blue air, breathless in the STARRY peace, + After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled + With happy thoughts as heaven with ANGELS." + + + NORMAN. + + "Till one calm night, when over earth and wave + Heaven looked its love from all its numberless STARS." + + + NORMAN. + + "Those eyes, the guiding STARS by which I steered." + + + NORMAN. + + "That great mother + (The only parent I have known), whose face + Is bright with gazing ever on the STARS-- + The mother-sea." + + + NORMAN. + + "My bark shall be our home; + The STARS that light the ANGEL palaces + Of air, our lamps." + + + NORMAN. + + "A name that glitters, like a STAR, amidst + The galaxy of England's loftiest born." + + + LADY ARUNDEL. + + "And see him princeliest of the lion tribe, + Whose swords and coronals gleam around the throne, + The guardian STARS of the imperial isle." + + +The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the papers, as real, +reglar poatry. Those wickid critix! they must have been laffing in their +sleafs when they quoted it. Malody, suckling round and uppards from the +bows, like a happy soul released, hangs in the air, and from invizable +plumes shakes sweetness down. Mighty fine, truly! but let mortial man +tell the meannink of the passidge. Is it MUSICKLE sweetniss that Malody +shakes down from its plumes--its wings, that is, or tail--or some +pekewliar scent that proceeds from happy souls released, and which they +shake down from the trees when they are suckling round and uppards? IS +this poatry, Barnet? Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly: +Is it poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, and +won't bear the commanest test of comman sence? + +In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though in a more +comprehensable way: the air, the leaves, the otion, are fild with +emocean at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore Nature is dragged in to +partisapate in his joys, just as she has been befor. Once in a poem, +this universle simfithy is very well; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet: +and that once should be in some great suckmstans, surely,--such as the +meeting of Adam and Eve, in "Paradice Lost," or Jewpeter and Jewno, in +Hoamer, where there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. But sea-captings +should not be eternly spowting and invoking gods, hevns, starrs, angels, +and other silestial influences. We can all do it, Barnet; nothing in +life is esier. I can compare my livry buttons to the stars, or the +clouds of my backopipe to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna; +or I can say that angels are looking down from them, and the tobacco +silf, like a happy sole released, is circling round and upwards, and +shaking sweetness down. All this is as esy as drink; but it's not +poatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers reckonize them, +don't howl about the suckumambient air, and paws to think of the happy +leaves a-rustling--at least, one mistrusts them if they do. Take +another instans out of your own play. Capting Norman (with his eternil +SLACK-JAW!) meets the gal of his art:-- + + + "Look up, look up, my Violet--weeping? fie! + And trembling too--yet leaning on my breast. + In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter. + Look up! I come to woo thee to the seas, + My sailor's bride! Hast thou no voice but blushes? + Nay--From those roses let me, like the bee, + Drag forth the secret sweetness! + + + VIOLET. + + "Oh what thoughts + Were kept for SPEECH when we once more should meet, + Now blotted from the PAGE; and all I feel + Is--THOU art with me!" + + +Very right, Miss Violet--the scentiment is natral, affeckshnit, +pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge, and +no harm done); but never mind, the feeling is pritty; and I can fancy, +my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weeping lass, looking up in a man's +face and saying it. But the capting!--oh, this capting!--this windy, +spouting captain, with his prittinesses, and conseated apollogies for +the hardness of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies, and his +wishes to be a bee! Pish! Men don't make love in this finniking +way. It's the part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a galliant +gentleman, in command of one of her Madjisty's vessels of war. + +Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknollidge that +Capting Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with his endless jabber +about stars and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist of Lady +Arundel's spitch, too, who, in the corse of three lines, has made her +son a prince, a lion, with a sword and coronal, and a star. Why jumble +and sheak up metafors in this way? Barnet, one simily is quite enuff in +the best of sentenses (and I preshume I kneedn't tell you that it's as +well to have it LIKE, when you are about it). Take my advise, honrabble +sir--listen to a humble footmin: it's genrally best in poatry to +understand puffickly what you mean yourself, and to ingspress your +meaning clearly afterwoods--in the simpler words the better, praps. You +may, for instans, call a coronet a coronal (an "ancestral coronal," p. +74) if you like, as you might call a hat a "swart sombrero," "a glossy +four-and-nine," "a silken helm, to storm impermeable, and lightsome as +the breezy gossamer;" but, in the long run, it's as well to call it +a hat. It IS a hat; and that name is quite as poetticle as another. I +think it's Playto, or els Harrystottle, who observes that what we call a +rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Confess, now, dear Barnet, +don't you long to call it a Polyanthus? + +I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry you seem to +have bean, that you have actially in some sentences forgot to put in the +sence. What is this, for instance?-- + + + "This thrice precious one + Smiled to my eyes--drew being from my breast-- + Slept in my arms;--the very tears I shed + Above my treasures were to men and angels + Alike such holy sweetness!" + + +In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked--Raphael, Gabriel, +Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael--what does this "holy sweetness" mean? We're not +spinxes to read such durk conandrums. If you knew my state sins I came +upon this passidg--I've neither slep nor eton; I've neglected my pantry; +I've been wandring from house to house with this riddl in my hand, and +nobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomy +at one another, and asking what this may be. All the cumtributors have +been spoak to. The Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried and +giv'n up; we've sent to Docteur Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics a +deal ezier than my way of spellin'--no anser. Quick! quick with a +fifth edition, honored Barnet, and set us at rest! While your about it, +please, too, to igsplain the two last lines:-- + + + "His merry bark with England's flag to crown her." + + +See what dellexy of igspreshn, "a flag to crown her!" + + + "His merry bark with England's flag to crown her, + Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares." + + +Likewise the following:-- + + + "Girl, beware, + THE LOVE THAT TRIFLES ROUND THE CHARMS IT GILDS + OFT RUINS WHILE IT SHINES." + + +Igsplane this, men and angels! I've tried every way; backards, forards, +and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus:-- + + + The love that ruins round the charms it shines, + Gilds while it trifles oft; + +Or, + + The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, + Oft trifles while it shines; + +Or, + + The ruins that love gilds and shines around, + Oft trifles where it charms; + +Or, + + Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, + The trifles that it gilds; + +Or, + + The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, + While round the charms it shines. + + +All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. + +And with this I'll alow my friend Smith, who has been silent all this +time, to say a few words. He has not written near so much as me (being +an infearor genus, betwigst ourselves), but he says he never had such +mortial difficklty with anything as with the dixcripshn of the plott of +your pease. Here his letter:-- + + +To CH-RL-S F-TZR-Y PL-NT-G-N-T Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., &c. &c. + +30th Nov. 1839. + +MY DEAR AND HONORED SIR,--I have the pleasure of laying before you the +following description of the plot, and a few remarks upon the style of +the piece called "The Sea Captain." + +Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a daughter, +heiress of his estates and property; a poor cousin, Sir Maurice Beevor +(being next in succession); and a page, Arthur Le Mesnil by name. + +The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young persons were +married unknown to his lordship. + +Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that period +favorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed to run away +together, and had reached a chapel near on the sea-coast, from which +they were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put a stop to their +proceedings by causing one Gaussen, a pirate, to murder the page. + +His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three days, gave +birth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of this birth I cannot say; +the infant, however, was never acknowledged, but carried by Sir Maurice +Beevor to a priest, Onslow by name, who educated the lad and kept him +for twelve years in profound ignorance of his birth. The boy went by the +name of Norman. + +Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a widow, but had a +second son, who was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord Ashdale. Old +Lord Arundel died, and her ladyship became countess in her own right. + +When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who wished to +"WAFT young Arthur to a distant land," had him sent on board ship. Who +should the captain of the ship be but Gaussen, who received a smart +bribe from Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the lad. Accordingly, Gaussen tied +him to a plank, and pitched him overboard. + + . . . . . . + +About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan niece +of Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass a few weeks with her +ladyship. She had just come from a sea-voyage, and had been saved from a +wicked Algerine by an English sea captain. This sea captain was no other +than Norman, who had been picked up off his plank, and fell in love +with, and was loved by, Miss Violet. + +A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain came to +pay her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady Arundel's +residence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue Gaussen's ship anchored +in the harbor too. Gaussen at once knew his man, for he had "tracked" +him, (after drowning him,) and he informed Sir Maurice Beevor that young +Norman was alive. + +Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should she get rid of him? +In this wise. He was in love with Violet, let him marry her and be off; +for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin too; and, of course, could +not marry a young woman in her station of life. "You have a chaplain on +board," says her ladyship to Captain Norman; "let him attend to-night +in the ruined chapel, marry Violet, and away with you to sea." By this +means she hoped to be quit of him forever. + +But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor, and +reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel and carry +off Violet; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel to kill both +Ashdale and Norman; thus there would only be Lady Arundel between him +and the title. + +Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the chapel, had just +seen his worthy old friend, the priest, most barbarously murdered there. +Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon him; his reverence was coming +with the papers concerning Norman's birth, which Beevor wanted in order +to extort money from the countess. Gaussen was, however, obliged to run +before he got the papers; and the clergyman had time, before he died, +to tell Norman the story, and give him the documents, with which Norman +sped off to the castle to have an interview with his mother. + +He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to be left alone +with her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room, surlily quits it; +but, going out, cunningly puts on Norman's cloak. "It will be dark," +says he, "down at the chapel; Violet won't know me; and, egad! I'll run +off with her!" + +Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges him, for she cannot +help it; but will not embrace him, love him, or have anything to do with +him. + +Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there waiting to marry him +to Violet, his boat was there to carry him on board his ship, and Violet +was there, too. + +"Norman," says she, in the dark, "dear Norman, I knew you by your white +cloak; here I am." And she and the man in a cloak go off to the inner +chapel to be married. + +There waits Master Gaussen; he has seized the chaplain and the boat's +crew, and is just about to murder the man in the cloak, when-- + +NORMAN rushes in and cuts him down, much to the surprise of Miss, for +she never suspected it was sly Ashdale who had come, as we have seen, +disguised, and very nearly paid for his masquerading. + +Ashdale is very grateful; but, when Norman persists in marrying Violet, +he says--no, he shan't. He shall fight; he is a coward if he doesn't +fight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he WON'T fight; and-- + +Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rushing in, says, +"Hold! this is your brother, Percy--your elder brother!" Here is some +restiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by embracing his brother. + +Norman burns all the papers; vows he will never peach; reconciles +himself with his mother; says he will go loser; but, having ordered his +ship to "veer" round to the chapel, orders it to veer back again, for he +will pass the honeymoon at Arundel Castle. + +As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that there are +one or two very good notions in this plot. But the author does not fail, +as he would modestly have us believe, from ignorance of stage-business; +he seems to know too much, rather than too little, about the stage; to +be too anxious to cram in effects, incidents, perplexities. There is +the perplexity concerning Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and the +priest's murder, and the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. There is +the perplexity about the papers, and that about the hat and cloak, (a +silly, foolish obstacle,) which only tantalize the spectator, and retard +the march of the drama's action: it is as if the author had said, +"I must have a new incident in every act, I must keep tickling the +spectator perpetually, and never let him off until the fall of the +curtain." + +The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of intrigue you may +remark in the author's drama of "Richelieu." "The Lady of Lyons" was a +much simpler and better wrought plot; the incidents following each other +either not too swiftly or startlingly. In "Richelieu," it always seemed +to me as if one heard doors perpetually clapping and banging; one +was puzzled to follow the train of conversation, in the midst of the +perpetual small noises that distracted one right and left. + +Nor is the list of characters of "The Sea Captain" to be despised. The +outlines of all of them are good. A mother, for whom one feels a proper +tragic mixture of hatred and pity; a gallant single-hearted son, whom +she disdains, and who conquers her at last by his noble conduct; a +dashing haughty Tybalt of a brother; a wicked poor cousin, a pretty +maid, and a fierce buccaneer. These people might pass three hours very +well on the stage, and interest the audience hugely; but the author +fails in filling up the outlines. His language is absurdly stilted, +frequently careless; the reader or spectator hears a number of loud +speeches, but scarce a dozen lines that seem to belong of nature to the +speakers. + +Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the continual +sham-religious clap-traps which the author has put into the mouth of +his hero; nothing more unsailor-like than his namby-pamby starlit +descriptions, which my ingenious colleague has, I see, alluded to. "Thy +faith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven," cries the gallant captain to +his lady. See how loosely the sentence is constructed, like a thousand +others in the book. The captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faith +in her own eyes; either image might pass by itself, but together, like +the quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The captain tells +his lieutenant to BID HIS BARK VEER ROUND to a point in the harbor. Was +ever such language? My lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand pounds to WAFT +him (her son) to some distant shore. Nonsense, sheer nonsense; and what +is worse, affected nonsense! + +Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. "There is a great deal of game on +the estate--partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and plovers (SMACKING +HIS LIPS)--besides a magnificent preserve of sparrows, which I can sell +TO THE LITTLE BLACKGUARDS in the streets at a penny a hundred. But I am +very poor--a very poor old knight!" + +Is this wit or nature? It is a kind of sham wit; it reads as if it were +wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the little blackguard +boys! what flimsy ecstasies and silly "smacking of lips" about the +plovers. Is this the man who writes for the next age? O fie! Here is +another joke:-- + + + "Sir Maurice. Mice! zounds, how can I + Keep mice! I can't afford it! They were starved + To death an age ago. The last was found + Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone + In that same larder, so consumed and worn + By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it! + I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, + And set it in the porch--a solemn warning + To thieves and beggars!" + + +Is not this rare wit? "Zounds! how can I keep mice?" is well enough for +a miser; not too new, or brilliant either; but this miserable dilution +of a thin joke, this wretched hunting down of the poor mouse! It is +humiliating to think of a man of esprit harping so long on such a mean, +pitiful string. A man who aspires to immortality, too! I doubt whether +it is to be gained thus; whether our author's words are not too loosely +built to make "starry pointing pyramids of." Horace clipped and squared +his blocks more carefully before he laid the monument which imber edax, +or aquila impotens, or fuga temporum might assail in vain. Even old +Ovid, when he raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had placed +some columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two which deserved the +immortality that he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself. But +let not all be looking forward to a future, and fancying that, "incerti +spatium dum finiat aevi," our books are to be immortal. Alas! the way to +immortality is not so easy, nor will our "Sea Captain" be permitted such +an unconscionable cruise. If all the immortalities were really to have +their wish, what a work would our descendants have to study them all! + +Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved this +deathless consummation. There will come a day (may it be long distant!) +when the very best of his novels will be forgotten; and it is reasonable +to suppose that his dramas will pass out of existence, some time or +other, in the lapse of the secula seculorum. In the meantime, my dear +Plush, if you ask me what the great obstacle is towards the dramatic +fame and merit of our friend, I would say that it does not lie so much +in hostile critics or feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, +and a peevish vanity which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. +The question of original capacity I will not moot; one may think very +highly of the honorable baronet's talent, without rating it quite so +high as he seems disposed to do. + +And to conclude: as he has chosen to combat the critics in person, the +critics are surely justified in being allowed to address him directly. + + With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, + I have the honor to be, dear Sir, + Your most faithful and obliged + humble servant, + JOHN THOMAS SMITH. + + +And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I think I can't do better than +clothes mine lickwise; for though I should never be tired of talking, +praps the public may of hearing, and therefore it's best to shut up +shopp. + +What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take unkind. A +play, you see, is public property for every one to say his say on; and +I think, if you read your prefez over agin, you'll see that it ax as a +direct incouridgment to us critix to come forrard and notice you. But +don't fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiated by hostillaty; fust +write a good play, and you'll see we'll prays it fast enuff. Waiting +which, Agray, Munseer le Chevaleer, l'ashurance de ma hot cumsideratun. + +Voter distangy, + +Y. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush, by +William Makepeace Thackeray + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMOIRS OF MR. 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YELLOWPLUSH + +by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY + + + + +CONTENTS + + +MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND + +THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE + +FORING PARTS + +MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS:-- + + CHAP. I. The Two Bundles of Hay + + II. "Honor thy Father" + + III. Minewvring + + IV. "Hitting the Nale on the Hedd" + + V. The Griffin's Claws + + VI. The Jewel + + VII. The Consquinsies + + VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo + + IX. The Marriage + + X. The Honey-moon + +MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW + +SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV." + +EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI + + + + +MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH + + + +MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and +am, in consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me +Charles James Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to +several noble families, and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she +knew, who wore a yellow livry, and drove the Lord Mayor of London. + +Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the +name of a part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through +life, in which I was, as it were, a footman by buth. + +Praps he was my father--though on this subjict I can't speak +suttinly, for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be +illygitmit, I may have been changed at nuss; but I've always had +genlmnly tastes through life, and have no doubt that I come of a +genlmnly origum. + +The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creatur +was very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in +her. Why, I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led +a strange life; sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and +sometimes in rags and dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes +kix; sometimes gin, and sometimes shampang; law bless us! how she +used to swear at me, and cuddle me; there we were, quarrelling and +making up, sober and tipsy, starving and guttling by turns, just as +ma got money or spent it. But let me draw a vail over the seen, +and speak of her no more--its 'sfishant for the public to know, +that her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the New Cut. + +My poor mother died one morning, Hev,n bless her! and I was left +alone in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy +me a penny roal for my brexfast. But there was some amongst our +naybors (and let me tell you there's more kindness among them poor +disrepettable creaturs, than in half a dozen lords or barrynets) +who took pity upon poor Sal's orfin (for they bust out laffin when +I called her Miss Montmorency), and gev me bred and shelter. I'm +afraid, in spite of their kindness, that my MORRILS wouldn't have +improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But a benny-violent genlmn +saw me, and put me to school. The academy which I went to was +called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less--the young +genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsisnames, a tin +plate on the left arm, and a cap about the size of a muffing. I +stayed there sicks years; from sicks, that is to say, till my +twelth year, during three years of witch I distinguished myself not +a little in the musicle way, for I bloo the bellus of the church +horgin, and very fine tunes we played too. + +Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what trix we +used to play the applewoman! and how we put snuff in the old +clark's Prayer-book--my eye!); but one day, a genlmn entered the +school-room--it was on the very day when I went to subtraxion--and +asked the master for a young lad for a servant. They pitched upon +me glad enough; and nex day found me sleeping in the sculry, close +under the sink, at Mr. Bago's country-house at Pentonwille. + +Bago kep a shop in Smithfield market, and drov a taring good trade +in the hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he cleared +no less than fifty pounds every year by letting his front room at +hanging time. His winders looked right opsit Newgit, and many and +many dozen chaps has he seen hanging there. Laws was laws in the +year ten, and they screwed chaps' nex for nex to nothink. But my +bisniss was at his country-house, where I made my first ontray into +fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, and stable-boy then, and an't +ashamed to own it; for my merrits have raised me to what I am--two +livries, forty pound a year, malt-licker, washin, silk-stocking, +and wax candles--not countin wails, which is somethink pretty +considerable at OUR house, I can tell you. + +I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got me a +very different situation. A handsome young genlmn, who kep a +tilbry and a ridin horse at livry, wanted a tiger. I bid at once +for the place; and, being a neat tidy-looking lad, he took me. +Bago gave me a character, and he my first livry; proud enough I was +of it, as you may fancy. + +My new master had some business in the city, for he went in every +morning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, and had it +waiting for him at six; when, if it was summer, he spanked round +into the Park, and drove one of the neatest turnouts there. Wery +proud I was in a gold-laced hat, a drab coat and a red weskit, to +sit by his side, when he drove. I already began to ogle the gals +in the carridges, and to feel that longing for fashionabl life +which I've had ever since. When he was at the oppera, or the play, +down I went to skittles, or to White Condick Gardens; and Mr. +Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, I warrant: to be sure +there is very few man-servants at Pentonwille, the poppylation +being mostly gals of all work; and so, though only fourteen, I was +as much a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem. + +But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was such a gay +chap, should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-floor in +John Street--a parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way, and only +came in with his boots and brexfast of a morning. + +The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. They were a +poor but proliffic couple, who had rented the place for many years; +and they and their family were squeezed in it pretty tight, I can +tell you. + +Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been a +sub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such think; and, as +I heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave on account of his +NERVOUSNESS. He was such a coward, the fact is, that he was +considered dangerous to the harmy, and sent home. + +He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss Slamcoe. +She was a Bristol gal; and her father being a bankrup in the +tallow-chandlering way, left, in course, a pretty little sum of +money. A thousand pound was settled on her; and she was as high +and mighty as if it had been a millium. + +Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly +daughters by Miss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther +a narrow income for one of her appytite and pretensions. In an +unlucky hour for Shum she met him. He was a widower with a little +daughter of three years old, a little house at Pentonwille, and a +little income about as big as her own. I believe she bullyd the +poor creature into marridge; and it was agreed that he should let +his ground-floor at John Street, and so add somethink to their +means. + +They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I can +tell you. She was always talking and blustering about her famly, +the celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the +Slamcoes. They had a six-roomed house (not counting kitching and +sculry), and now twelve daughters in all; whizz.--4 Miss +Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, Miss Dosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny; +1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum's daughter, and seven others, who +shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum was a fat, red-haired woman, at least +a foot taller than S.; who was but a yard and a half high, pale- +faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose and shut-frill +all brown with snuff. + +Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly +was all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged +to be done by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each, +and four small goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of +linning or other. The hall was a regular puddle: wet dabs of +dishclouts flapped in your face; soapy smoking bits of flanning +went nigh to choke you; and while you were looking up to prevent +hanging yourself with the ropes which were strung across and about, +slap came the hedge of a pail against your shins, till one was like +to be drove mad with hagony. The great slattnly doddling girls was +always on the stairs, poking about with nasty flower-pots, a- +cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seats with greasy +curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An infernal pianna was +jingling from morning till night--two eldest Miss Buckmasters, +"Battle of Prag"--six youngest Miss Shums, "In my Cottage," till I +knew every note in the "Battle of Prag," and cussed the day when +"In my Cottage" was rote. The younger girls, too, were always +bouncing and thumping about the house, with torn pinnyfores, and +dogs-eard grammars, and large pieces of bread and treacle. I never +see such a house. + +As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink +but lay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold, +scream, and go into hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old +newspaper from weeks' end to weeks' end, when he was not engaged in +teaching the children, or goin for the beer, or cleanin the shoes: +for they kep no servant. This house in John Street was in short a +regular Pandymony. + +What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a +place? The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum. + +And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other +daughters were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty +little pink, modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue +eyes, and a neck as white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal +old black gownd, which had grown too short for her, and too tight; +but it only served to show her pretty angles and feet, and bewchus +figger. Master, though he had looked rather low for the gal of his +art, had certainly looked in the right place. Never was one more +pretty or more hamiable. I gav her always the buttered toast left +from our brexfust, and a cup of tea or chocklate, as Altamont might +fancy: and the poor thing was glad enough of it, I can vouch; for +they had precious short commons up stairs, and she the least of +all. + +For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the +poor thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at +her. It was, Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the +public-house for the beer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean +stockens out walking, or your new bonnet to church. Only her poor +father was kind to her; and he, poor old muff! his kindness was of +no use. Mary bore all the scolding like a hangel, as she was: no, +not if she had a pair of wings and a goold trumpet, could she have +been a greater hangel. + +I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when Master +was in the city; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I happened +to be listening on the stairs. The old scolding was a-going on, +and the old tune of that hojus "Battle of Prag." Old Shum made +some remark; and Miss Buckmaster cried out, "Law, pa! what a fool +you are!" All the gals began laffin, and so did Mrs. Shum; all, +that is, excep Mary, who turned as red as flams, and going up to +Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two such wax on her great red ears +as made them tingle again. + +Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger. Her +great arms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cuffed and +thumped poor Mary for taking her pa's part. Mary Shum, who was +always a-crying before, didn't shed a tear now. "I will do it +again," she said, "if Betsy insults my father." New thumps, new +shreex; and the old horridan went on beatin the poor girl till she +was quite exosted, and fell down on the sophy, puffin like a +poppus. + +"For shame, Mary," began old Shum; "for shame, you naughty gal, +you! for hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating your +kind sister." + +"Why, it was because she called you a--" + +"If she did, you pert miss," said Shum, looking mighty dignitified, +"I could correct her, and not you." + +"You correct me, indeed!" said Miss Betsy, turning up her nose, if +possible, higher than before; "I should like to see you erect me! +Imperence!" and they all began laffin again. + +By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her exsize, +and she began to pour in HER wolly. Fust she called Mary names, +then Shum. + +"Oh, why," screeched she, "why did I ever leave a genteel famly, +where I ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a creatur like +this? He is unfit to be called a man, he is unworthy to marry a +gentlewoman; and as for that hussy, I disown her. Thank heaven she +an't a Slamcoe; she is only fit to be a Shum!" + +"That's true, mamma," said all the gals; for their mother had +taught them this pretty piece of manners, and they despised their +father heartily: indeed, I have always remarked that, in famlies +where the wife is internally talking about the merits of her +branch, the husband is invariably a spooney. + +Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the sofy, at her +old trix--more screeching--more convulshuns: and she wouldn't stop, +this time, till Shum had got her half a pint of her old remedy, +from the "Blue Lion" over the way. She grew more easy as she +finished the gin; but Mary was sent out of the room, and told not +to come back agin all day. + +"Miss Mary," says I,--for my heart yurned to the poor gal, as she +came sobbing and miserable down stairs: "Miss Mary," says I, "if I +might make so bold, here's master's room empty, and I know where +the cold bif and pickles is." "Oh, Charles!" said she, nodding her +head sadly, "I'm too retched to have any happytite." And she flung +herself on a chair, and began to cry fit to bust. + +At this moment who should come in but my master. I had taken hold +of Miss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I should have kist it, +when, as I said, Haltamont made his appearance. "What's this?" +cries he, lookin at me as black as thunder, or as Mr. Phillips as +Hickit, in the new tragedy of MacBuff. + +"It's only Miss Mary, sir," answered I. + +"Get out, sir," says he, as fierce as posbil; and I felt somethink +(I think it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and found +myself, nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets +and things. + +The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, as I was +cussin and crying out. "It's only Charles, ma," screamed out Miss +Betsy. + +"Where's Mary?" says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy. + +"She's in Master's room, miss," said I. + +"She's in the lodger's room, ma," cries Miss Shum, heckoing me. + +"Very good; tell her to stay there till he comes back." And then +Miss Shum went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing of +Haltamont's return. + + . . . . . . + +I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after Mary +Shum; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake that he +took and kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the sake of +love, which is above being mersnary, fourteen shillings a wick was +a LITTLE too strong for two such rat-holes as he lived in. I do +blieve the famly had nothing else but their lodger to live on: they +brekfisted off his tea-leaves, they cut away pounds and pounds of +meat from his jints (he always dined at home), and his baker's bill +was at least enough for six. But that wasn't my business. I saw +him grin, sometimes, when I laid down the cold bif of a morning, to +see how little was left of yesterday's sirline; but he never said a +syllabub: for true love don't mind a pound of meat or so hextra. + +At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals; Miss +Betsy, in partickler, grew mighty fond of him: they sat, for whole +evenings, playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her +tea and muffing; but as it was improper for her to come alone, she +brought one of her sisters, and this was genrally Mary,--for he +made a pint of asking her, too,--and one day, when one of the +others came instead, he told her, very quitely, that he hadn't +invited her; and Miss Buckmaster was too fond of muffings to try +this game on again: besides, she was jealous of her three grown +sisters, and considered Mary as only a child. Law bless us! how +she used to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play "Meet Me by +Moonlike," on an old gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head: +but he wouldn't have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere. + +One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for +"Ashley's," and proposed to take the two young ladies--Miss Betsy +and Miss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me aside that +afternoon, assuming a solamon and misterus hare, "Charles," said +he, "ARE YOU UP TO SNUFF?" + +"Why sir," said I, "I'm genrally considered tolerably downy." + +"Well," says he, "I'll give you half a suffering if you can manage +this bisness for me; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. When the +theatre is over, you must be waitin with two umbrellows; give me +one, and hold the other over Miss Buckmaster: and, hark ye, sir, +TURN TO THE RIGHT when you leave the theater, and say the coach is +ordered to stand a little way up the street, in order to get rid of +the crowd." + +We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit +Cartliche's hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble! talk +of Magreedy! Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in the +principal part. But this is nothink to the porpus. When the play +was over, I was at the door with the umbrellos. It was raining +cats and dogs, sure enough. + +Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his arm, and Miss +Betsy following behind, rayther sulky. "This way, sir," cries I, +pushin forward; and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy, fit to +smother her. Mr. A. and Miss Mary skipped on and was out of sight +when Miss Betsy's cloak was settled, you may be sure. + +"They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the +street, away from the crowd of carridges." And off we turned TO +THE RIGHT, and no mistake. + +After marchin a little through the plash and mud, "Has anybody seen +Coxy's fly?" cries I, with the most innocent haxent in the world. + +"Cox's fly!" hollows out one chap. "Is it the vaggin you want?" +says another. "I see the blackin wan pass," giggles out another +gentlmn; and there was such a hinterchange of compliments as you +never heerd. I pass them over though, because some of 'em were not +wery genteel. + +"Law, miss," said I, "what shall I do? My master will never +forgive me; and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a coach." Miss +Betsy was just going to call one when I said that; but the coachman +wouldn't have it at that price, he said, and I knew very well that +SHE hadn't four or five shillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in the +midst of that tarin rain, at midnight, we had to walk four miles, +from Westminster Bridge to Pentonwille; and what was wuss, I DIDN'T +HAPPEN TO KNOW THE WAY. A very nice walk it was, and no mistake. + +At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My master was +at the garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms, while +master begun cussin and swearing at me for disobeying his orders, +and TURNING TO THE RIGHT INSTEAD OF TO THE LEFT! Law bless me! his +hacting of hanger was very near as natral and as terrybl as Mr. +Cartlich's in the play. + +They had waited half an hour, he said, in the fly, in the little +street at the left of the theater; they had drove up and down in +the greatest fright possible; and at last came home, thinking it +was in vain to wait any more. They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and +roast oysters for supper, and this consoled her a little. + +I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for HER share in +this adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and I do +believe is hignorant to this day of our little strattygim. Besides, +all's fair in love; and, as my master could never get to see her +alone, on account of her infernal eleven sisters and ma, he took +this opportunity of expressin his attachment to her. + +If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid it him +back again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were as +tender as two tuttle-doves--which fully accounts for the axdent +what happened to me, in being kicked out of the room: and in course +I bore no mallis. + +I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master was in +love with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down to his +parlor as much as ever. + +Now comes the sing'lar part of my history. + + +CHAPTER II. + + +But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or +what was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I +said to him on a wery rainy day, "Sir, shall I bring the gig down +to your office?" and he gave me one of his black looks and one of +his loudest hoaths, and told me to mind my own bizziness, and +attend to my orders. Another day,--it was on the day when Miss +Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,--Miss M., who adoared him, as I +have said already, kep on asking him what was his buth, parentidg, +and ediccation. "Dear Frederic," says she, "why this mistry about +yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little Mary"--they +were as tender as this, I can tell you--"your buth and your +professin?" + +I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he +said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, "Mary," said he, "if you +love me, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know +that I am a honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery +for you to larn, must hang over all my actions--that is from ten +o'clock till six." + +They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus +way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses +in Pentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear +rayther better outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his +secret, he swore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing +should prevent him, he said, from leading her to the halter, from +makin her his adoarable wife. After this was a slight silence. +"Dearest Frederic," mummered out miss, speakin as if she was +chokin, "I am yours--yours for ever." And then silence agen, and +one or two smax, as if there was kissin going on. Here I thought +it best to give a rattle at the door-lock; for, as I live, there +was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the stairs! + +It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed- +rum window, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half +an hour afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who +was a dragon of vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and +frowning, as fat and as fierce as a old sow at feedin time. + +"Where's the lodger, fellow?" says she to me. + +I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street--"If you mean, +ma'am, my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept +in, and is puttin on clean shoes in his bedroom." + +She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening the +parlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a- +drooping down her head like a pale lily. + +"Did you come into my famly," says she, "to corrupt my daughters, +and to destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come +here, sir, as a seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!"-- +and she folded her arms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums +in the Tragic Mews. + +"I came here, Mrs. Shum," said he, "because I loved your daughter, +or I never would have condescended to live in such a beggarly hole. +I have treated her in every respect like a genlmn, and she is as +innocent now, ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry +me, I am ready; if she'll leave you, she shall have a home where +she shall be neither bullyd nor starved: no hangry frumps of +sisters, no cross mother-in-law, only an affeckshnat husband, and +all the pure pleasures of Hyming." + +Mary flung herself into his arms--"Dear, dear Frederic," says she, +"I'll never leave you." + +"Miss," says Mrs. Shum, "you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster, +thank God. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and +he may insult me--brave me--trample on my feelinx in my own house-- +and there's no-o-o-obody by to defend me." + +I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and +she began screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the +eleven gals and old Shum. There was a pretty row. "Look here, +sir," says she, "at the conduck of your precious trull of a +daughter--alone with this man, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows +what besides." + +"What, he?" cries Miss Betsy--"he in love with Mary. Oh, the +wretch, the monster, the deceiver!"--and she falls down too, +screeching away as loud as her mamma; for the silly creature +fancied still that Altamont had a fondness for her. + +"SILENCE THESE WOMEN!" shouts out Altamont, thundering loud. "I +love your daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny, and +can afford to keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll come +of her own will. Is that enough?--may I have her?" + +"We'll talk of this matter, sir," says Mr. Shum, looking as high +and mighty as an alderman. "Gals, go up stairs with your dear +mamma."--And they all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage ended. + +You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a husband +for his daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better than +all the pack which had been brought him or born to him by Mrs. +Buckmaster. But, strange to say, when he came to talk of +settlements and so forth, not a word would my master answer. He +said he made four hundred a year reglar--he wouldn't tell how--but +Mary, if she married him, must share all that he had, and ask no +questions; only this he would say, as he'd said before, that he was +a honest man. + +They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house at +Islington; but still my master went away to business, and nobody +knew where. Who could he be? + + +CHAPTER III. + + +If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a +chance of happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There +house at Cannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could +be. Carpited from top to to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; +and three deomestix: of which I, in course, was one. My life +wasn't so easy as in Mr. A.'s bachelor days; but, what then? The +three W's is my maxum: plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and +plenty of wages. Altamont kep his gig no longer, but went to the +city in an omlibuster. + +One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an +effeckshnut husband, might have been as happy as her blessid +majisty. Nothing of the sort. For the fust six months it was all +very well; but then she grew gloomier and gloomier, though A. did +everythink in life to please her. + +Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row, +where he lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little +man was a thought too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's +the night that I've had to support him home. And you may be sure +that Miss Betsy did not now desert her sister: she was at our place +mornink, noon, and night; not much to my mayster's liking, though +he was too good-natured to wex his wife in trifles. + +But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and +hated Altamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things +into the head of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety +and cheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and +retchid, just as if she had been the most misrable woman in the +world. + +In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs. +Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and made her +retchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamont +came home: she used to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say, +"My child, my child, your father is false to me;" or, "your father +deceives me;" or "what will you do when your pore mother is no +more?" or such like sentimental stuff. + +It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found +out. The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the +house, its a servant's DUTY to listen; and listen I did, one day +when Mrs. was cryin as usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin +her, as she called it: though, heaven knows, she only grew wuss and +wuss for the consolation. + +Well, I listened; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis cryin +as yousual. + +"Pore dear innocint," says Mrs. S., heavin a great sigh, "you're +the child of a unknown father and a misrable mother." + +"Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma," says missis; "he is all +kindness to me." + +"All kindness, indeed! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a fine +gownd, and a ride in a fly whenever you please; but WHERE DOES ALL +HIS MONEY COME FROM? Who is he--what is he? Who knows that he +mayn't be a murderer, or a housebreaker, or a utterer of forged +notes? How can he make his money honestly, when he won't say where +he gets it? Why does he leave you eight hours every blessid day, +and won't say where he goes to? Oh, Mary, Mary, you are the most +injured of women!" + +And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin; and Miss Betsy began yowling +like a cat in a gitter; and pore missis cried, too--tears is so +remarkable infeckshus. + +"Perhaps, mamma," wimpered out she, "Frederic is a shop-boy, and +don't like me to know that he is not a gentleman." + +"A shopboy," says Betsy, "he a shopboy! O no, no, no! more likely +a wretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing all day, and +feedin you with the fruits of his ill-gotten games!" + +More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby +joined; and made a very pretty consort, I can tell you. + +"He can't be a robber," cries missis; "he's too good, too kind, for +that: besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is always +home at eight." + +"But he can be a forger," says Betsy, "a wicked, wicked FORGER. +Why does he go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why +does he go to the city? to be near banks and places, and so do it +more at his convenience." + +"But he brings home a sum of money every day--about thirty +shillings--sometimes fifty: and then he smiles, and says it's a +good day's work. This is not like a forger," said pore Mrs. A. + +"I have it--I have it!" screams out Mrs. S. "The villain--the +sneaking, double-faced Jonas! he's married to somebody else he is, +and that's why he leaves you, the base biggymist!" + +At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away. +A dreadful business it was--hystarrix; then hystarrix, in course, +from Mrs. Shum; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up and +down stairs with hot water! If ever there is a noosance in the +world, it's a house where faintain is always goin on. I wouldn't +live in one,--no, not to be groom of the chambers, and git two +hundred a year. + +It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place; and +such a row it was, that nobody but me heard master's knock. He +came in, and heard the hooping, and screeching, and roaring. He +seemed very much frightened at first, and said, "What is it?" + +"Mrs. Shum's here," says I, "and Mrs. in astarrix." + +Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word which I +don't like to name,--let it suffice that it begins with a D and +ends with a NATION; and he tore up stairs like mad. + +He bust open the bedroom door; missis lay quite pale and stony on +the sofy; the babby was screechin from the craddle; Miss Betsy was +sprawlin over missis; and Mrs. Shum half on the bed and half on the +ground: all howlin and squeelin, like so many dogs at the moond. + +When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a sudding. +There had been one or two tiffs before between them, and they +feared him as if he had been a hogre. + +"What's this infernal screeching and crying about?" says he. "Oh, +Mr. Altamont," cries the old woman, "you know too well; it's about +you that this darling child is misrabble!" + +"And why about me, pray, madam?" + +"Why, sir, dare you ask why? Because you deceive her, sir; because +you are a false, cowardly traitor, sir; because YOU HAVE A WIFE +ELSEWHERE, SIR!" And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to roar +again as loud as ever. + +Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the door wide open; +nex he seized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he world +her out of the room; then up he goes to Mrs. S. "Get up," says he, +thundering loud, "you lazy, trolloping, mischsef-making, lying old +fool! Get up, and get out of this house. You have been the cuss +and bain of my happyniss since you entered it. With your d----d +lies, and novvle rending, and histerrix, you have perwerted Mary, +and made her almost as mad as yourself." + +"My child! my child!" shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings round +missis. But Altamont ran between them, and griping the old lady by +her arm, dragged her to the door. "Follow your daughter, ma'm," +says he, and down she went. "CHAWLS, SEE THOSE LADIES TO THE +DOOR," he hollows out, "and never let them pass it again." We +walked down together, and off they went: and master locked and +double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin, of course, to +have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You may be sure +that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result of +their confidence. + +As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. +"Mary," says master, "you're no longer the merry greatful gal I +knew and loved at Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you-- +there's no smilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! +Your mother and sister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's +why I've drove them from this house, which they shall not re-enter +in my life." + +"O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I. Why do you have +any mistry from me? Where do you spend your days? Why did you +leave me, even on the day of your marridge, for eight hours, and +continue to do so every day?" + +"Because," says he, "I makes my livelihood by it. I leave you, +and don't tell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the +happier to know." + +It was in this way the convysation ren on--more tears and questions +on my missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it +ended for the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel. +Wery difrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and +kewing which had proceeded their nupshuls. + +Master went out, slamming the door in a fury; as well he might. +Says he, "If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly +one;" and so he went off to the hed tavern, and came home that +evening beesly intawsicated. When high words begin in a family +drink generally follows on the genlman's side; and then, fearwell +to all conjubial happyniss! These two pipple, so fond and loving, +were now sirly, silent, and full of il wil. Master went out +earlier, and came home later; missis cried more, and looked even +paler than before. + +Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in the +mopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and curosity; until +a singlar axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr. +Altamont. + +It was the tenth of January; I recklect the day, for old Shum gev +me half a crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by the +way): he was dining along with master, and they were making merry +together. + +Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and little +Shum his twelfth or so--master said, "I see you twice in the City +to-day, Mr. Shum." + +"Well, that's curous!" says Shum. "I WAS in the City. To-day's +the day when the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid; and me and Mrs. +S. went for our half-year's inkem. But we only got out of the +coach, crossed the street to the Bank, took our money, and got in +agen. How could you see me twice?" + +Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. "O!" says he, +"I was passing--passing as you went in and out." And he instantly +turned the conversation, and began talking about pollytix, or the +weather, or some such stuff. + +"Yes, my dear," said my missis, "but how could you see papa TWICE?" +Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever. Still +she would continy on. "Where was you, my dear, when you saw pa? +What were you doing, my love, to see pa twice?" and so forth. +Master looked angrier and angrier, and his wife only pressed him +wuss and wuss. + +This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler; and I knew +pritty well that he could git very little further; for, as reglar +as the thirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, +and its consquinzes. I was obliged to leed him home to John +Street, where I left him in the hangry arms of Mrs. Shum. + +"How the d--," sayd he all the way, "how the d-dd--the deddy-- +deddy--devil--could he have seen me TWICE?" + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +It was a sad slip on Altamont's part, for no sooner did he go out +the next morning than missis went out too. She tor down the +street, and never stopped till she came to her pa's house at +Pentonwill. She was clositid for an hour with her ma, and when she +left her she drove straight to the City. She walked before the +Bank, and behind the Bank, and round the Bank: she came home +disperryted, having learned nothink. + +And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's house for +the next ten days there was nothing but expyditions into the city. +Mrs. S., tho her dropsicle legs had never carred her half so fur +before, was eternally on the key veve, as the French say. If she +didn't go, Miss Betsy did, or misses did: they seemed to have an +attrackshun to the Bank, and went there as natral as an omlibus. + +At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house--(she wasn't +admitted when master was there, but came still in his absints)-- +and she wore a hair of tryumph, as she entered. "Mary," says she, +"where is the money your husbind brought to you yesterday?" My +master used always to give it to missis when he returned. + +"The money, ma!" says Mary. "Why here!" And pulling out her puss, +she showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an odd-looking +little coin. + +"THAT'S IT! that's it!" cried Mrs. S. "A Queene Anne's sixpence, +isn't it, dear--dated seventeen hundred and three?" + +It was so sure enough: a Queen Ans sixpence of that very date. + +"Now, my love," says she, "I have found him! Come with me to- +morrow, and you shall KNOW ALL!" + +And now comes the end of my story. + + . . . . . . + +The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked behind, +doing the genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. We +walked down the New Road--we walked down the City Road--we walked +to the Bank. We were crossing from that heddyfiz to the other side +of Cornhill, when all of a sudden missis shreeked, and fainted +spontaceously away. + +I rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms: spiling thereby a new +weskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard. I say, +very nearly knocking down the old sweeper who was hobbling away as +fast as posibil. We took her to Birch's; we provided her with a +hackney-coach and every lucksury, and carried her home to Islington. + + . . . . . . + +That night master never came home. Nor the nex night, nor the nex. +On the fourth day an octioneer arrived; he took an infantry of the +furnitur, and placed a bill in the window. + +At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He was +haggard and pale; not so haggard, however, not so pale as his +miserable wife. + +He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that I +coppied MY look to Miss ----. He looked at her very tendrilly and +held out his arms. She gev a suffycating shreek, and rusht into +his umbraces. + +"Mary," says he, "you know all now. I have sold my place; I have +got three thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. I've sold my +house and furnitur, and that brings me another. We'll go abroad +and love each other, has formly." + +And now you ask me, Who he was? I shudder to relate.--Mr. Haltamont +SWEP THE CROSSING FROM THE BANK TO CORNHILL!! + +Of cors, I left his servis. I met him, few years after, at Badden- +Badden, where he and Mrs. A. were much respectid, and pass for +pipple of propaty. + + + + +THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. + + +DIMOND CUT DIMOND. + + +The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more ellygant and +youfonious than that of my fust. I now found myself boddy servant +to the Honrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, youngest and fifth son +of the Earl of Crabs. + +Halgernon was a barrystir--that is, he lived in Pump Cort, Temple: +a wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. Suffiz to say, +it's on the confines of the citty, and the choasen aboad of the +lawyers of this metrappolish. + +When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean that +he went sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply that +he kep chambers, lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a +commitionarship, or a revisinship, or any other place that the Wig +guvvyment could give him. His father was a Wig pier (as the +landriss told me), and had been a Toary pier. The fack is, his +lordship was so poar, that he would be anythink or nothink, to get +provisions for his sons and an inkum for himself. + +I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year; and it would +have been a very comforable maintenants, only he knever paid him. + +Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake; he got his +allowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble +and fashnabble manner. He kep a kab---he went to Holmax--and +Crockfud's--he moved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the +law boox very little, I can tell you. Those fashnabble gents have +ways of getten money, witch comman pipple doan't understand. + +Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he +had the welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as common as +haypince--clarrit and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin; +and verry glad I was, to be sure, to be a valley to a zion of the +nobillaty. + +Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of +paper. The names of his family was wrote on it; it was wrote in +the shape of a tree, a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and +the names were on little plates among the bows. The pictur said +that the Deuceaces kem into England in the year 1066, along with +William Conqueruns. My master called it his podygree. I do bleev +it was because he had this pictur, and because he was the HONRABBLE +Deuceace, that he mannitched to live as he did. If he had been a +common man, you'd have said he was no better than a swinler. It's +only rank and buth that can warrant such singularities as my master +show'd. For it's no use disgysing it--the Honrabble Halgernon was +a GAMBLER. For a man of wulgar family, it's the wust trade that +can be--for a man of common feelinx of honesty, this profession is +quite imposbil; but for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it's the +esiest and most prophetable line he can take. + +It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should live +in the Temple; but it must be recklected, that it's not only +lawyers who live in what's called the Ins of Cort. Many +batchylers, who have nothink to do with lor, have here their +loginx; and many sham barrysters, who never put on a wig and gownd +twise in their lives, kip apartments in the Temple, instead of Bon +Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble places. + +Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there was +8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar, +Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys; fust floar, Mr. Sergeant +Flabber--opsite, Mr. Counslor Bruffy; and secknd pair, Mr. +Haggerstony, an Irish counslor, praktising at the Old Baly, and +lickwise what they call reporter to the Morning Post nyouspapper. +Opsite him was wrote + + + MR. RICHARD BLEWITT; + + +and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. + +This young fellow was a new comer into the Temple, and unlucky it +was for him too--he'd better have never been born; for it's my firm +apinion that the Temple ruined him--that is, with the help of my +master and Mr. Dick Blewitt: as you shall hear. + +Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man, had just +left the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortn of his +own--six thousand pound, or so--in the stox. He was jest of age, +an orfin who had lost his father and mother; and having +distinkwished hisself at Collitch, where he gained seffral prices, +was come to town to push his fortn, and study the barryster's +bisness. + +Not bein of a very high fammly hisself--indeed, I've heard say his +father was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort--Dawkins was +glad to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to rich +Squire Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him. + +Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me and Mr. +Blewitt's gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters,-- +mine being too much of the aristoxy to associate with one of Mr. +Blewitt's sort. Blewitt was what they call a bettin man; he went +reglar to Tattlesall's, kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue +berd's-eye handkercher, and a cut-away coat. In his manners he was +the very contrary of my master, who was a slim, ellygant man as +ever I see--he had very white hands, rayther a sallow face, with +sharp dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed and as black as +Warren's jet--he spoke very low and soft--he seemed to be watchin +the person with whom he was in convysation, and always flatterd +everybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He was +always swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty +as posbill. He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom one +would trust with life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at least; who, +though a quiet young man, fond of his boox, novvles, Byron's poems, +foot-playing, and such like scientafic amusemints, grew hand in +glove with honest Dick Blewitt, and soon after with my master, the +Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw! he thought he was makin good +connexions and real frends--he had fallen in with a couple of the +most etrocious swinlers that ever lived. + +Before Mr. Dawkins's arrivial in our house, Mr. Deuceace had barely +condysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt; it was only about a month +after that suckumstance that my master, all of a sudding, grew very +friendly with him. The reason was pretty clear,--Deuceace WANTED +HIM. Dawkins had not been an hour in master's company before he +knew that he had a pidgin to pluck. + +Blewitt knew this too: and bein very fond of pidgin, intended to +keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the +Honrabble Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of +Blewitt's clause, who thought he had it safe. In fact, he'd +brought Dawkins to these chambers for that very porpos, thinking to +have him under his eye, and strip him at leisure. + +My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game. +Gamblers know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation; +and though Mr. Blewitt moved in a much lower speare than Mr. +Deuceace, they knew each other's dealins and caracters puffickly +well. + +"Charles you scoundrel," says Deuceace to me one day (he always +spoak in that kind way), "who is this person that has taken the +opsit chambers, and plays the flute so industrusly?" + +"It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and a great +friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir," says I; "they seem to live in each +other's rooms." + +Master said nothink, but he GRIN'D--my eye, how he did grin. Not +the fowl find himself could snear more satannickly. + +I knew what he meant: + +Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. + +Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. + +Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and +when the simpleton is RICH, one knows pretty well what will come of +it. + +I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, as well as +my master; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough. Law bless +us! there was four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young men +as you ever see: Mr. Bruffy's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. +Blewitt's, and me--and we knew what our masters was about as well +as thay did theirselfs. Frinstance, I can say this for MYSELF, +there wasn't a paper in Deuceace's desk or drawer, not a bill, a +note, or mimerandum, which I hadn't read as well as he: with +Blewitt's it was the same--me and his young man used to read 'em +all. There wasn't a bottle of wine that we didn't get a glass out +of, nor a pound of sugar that we didn't have some lumps of it. We +had keys to all the cubbards--we pipped into all the letters that +kem and went---we pored over all the bill-files--we'd the best +pickens out of the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemit +balls out of the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals +and candles, we left them to the landrisses. You may call this +robry--nonsince--it's only our rights--a suvvant's purquizzits is +as sacred as the laws of Hengland. + +Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, esquire, +was sityouated as follows: He'd an incum of three hundred a year +from his father. Out of this he had to pay one hundred and ninety +for money borrowed by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, +seventy more for his hoss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and +about three hundred and fifty for a sepparat establishment in the +Regency Park; besides this, his pockit-money, say a hunderd, his +eatin, drinkin, and wine-marchant's bill, about two hunderd moar. +So that you see he laid by a pretty handsome sum at the end of the +year. + +My master was diffrent; and being a more fashnable man than Mr. B., +in course he owed a deal more mony. There was fust: + + + Account contray, at Crockford's L3711 0 0 + Bills of xchange and I. O. U.'s (but he + didn't pay these in most cases) 4963 0 0 + 21 tailors' bills, in all 1306 11 9 + 3 hossdealers' do 402 0 0 + 2 coachbuilder 506 0 0 + Bills contracted at Cambridtch 2193 6 8 + Sundries 987 10 0 + ------------ + L14069 8 5 + + +I give this as a curosity--pipple doan't know how in many cases +fashnabble life is carried on; and to know even what a real gnlmn +OWES is somethink instructif and agreeable. + +But to my tail. The very day after my master had made the +inquiries concerning Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned already, he met +Mr. Blewitt on the stairs; and byoutiffle it was to see how this +gnlmn, who had before been almost cut by my master, was now +received by him. One of the sweetest smiles I ever saw was now +vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's countenance. He held out his hand, +covered with a white kid glove, and said, in the most frenly tone +of vice posbill, "What! Mr. Blewitt? It is an age since we met. +What a shame that such near naybors should see each other so +seldom!" + +Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green dressing- +gown, smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, looked +surprised, flattered, and then suspicious. + +"Why, yes," says he, "it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time." + +"Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By-the-by, +what an evening that was--hay, Mr. Blewitt? What wine! what +capital songs! I recollect your 'May-day in the morning'--cuss me, +the best comick song I ever heard. I was speaking to the Duke of +Doncaster about it only yesterday. You know the duke, I think?" + +Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, "No, I don't." + +"Not know him!" cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he knows YOU; +as every sporting man in England does, I should think. Why, man, +your good things are in everybody's mouth at Newmarket." + +And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at fust +answered him quite short and angry: but, after a little more +flummery, he grew as pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's +flatry, and bleeved all his lies. At last the door shut, and they +both went into Mr. Blewitt's chambers together. + +Of course I can't say what past there; but in an hour master kem up +to his own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of backo +smoke. I never see any genmln more sick than he was; HE'D BEEN +SMOAKIN SEAGARS along with Blewitt. I said nothink, in course, tho +I'd often heard him xpress his horrow of backo, and knew very well +he would as soon swallow pizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to +do a thing without a reason: if he'd been smoakin, I warrant he had +smoked to some porpus. + +I didn't hear the convysation betwean 'em; but Mr. Blewitt's man +did: it was,--"Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars! Have you +one for a friend to smoak?" (The old fox, it wasn't only the +SEAGARS he was a-smoakin!) "Walk in," says Mr. Blewitt; and they +began a chaffin together; master very ankshous about the young +gintleman who had come to live in our chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and +always coming back to that subject,--saying that people on the same +stairkis ot to be frenly; how glad he'd be, for his part, to know +Mr. Dick Blewitt, and ANY FRIEND OF HIS, and so on. Mr. Dick, +howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap laid for him. "I really +don't know this Dawkins," says he: he's a chismonger's son, I hear; +and tho I've exchanged visits with him, I doan't intend to +continyou the acquaintance,--not wishin to assoshate with that kind +of pipple." So they went on, master fishin, and Mr. Blewitt not +wishin to take the hook at no price. + +"Confound the vulgar thief!" muttard my master, as he was laying on +his sophy, after being so very ill; "I've poisoned myself with his +infernal tobacco, and he has foiled me. The cursed swindling boor! +he thinks he'll ruin this poor Cheese-monger, does he? I'll step +in, and WARN him." + +I thought I should bust a-laffin, when he talked in this style. I +knew very well what his "warning" meant,--lockin the stable-door +but stealin the hoss fust. + +Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. Dawkins +we exicuted; and very pritty it was. + +Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, had some +other parshallities--wiz., he was very fond of good eatin and +drinkin. After doddling over his music and boox all day, this +young genlmn used to sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a +tavern, drinkin all sorts of wine along with his friend Mr. +Blewitt. He was a quiet young fellow enough at fust; but it was +Mr. B. who (for his own porpuses, no doubt,) had got him into this +kind of life. Well, I needn't say that he who eats a fine dinner, +and drinks too much overnight, wants a bottle of soda-water, and a +gril, praps, in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinses case; and +reglar almost as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from "Dix Coffy- +House" was to be seen on our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D.'s hot +breakfast. + +No man would have thought there was anythink in such a trifling +cirkumstance; master did, though, and pounced upon it like a cock +on a barlycorn. + +He sent me out to Mr. Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's called a +Strasbug-pie--in French, a "patty defau graw." He takes a card, +and nails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws come generally +in a round wooden box, like a drumb); and what do you think he +writes on it? why, as follos:--"For the Honorable Algernon Percy +Deuceace, &c. &c. &c. With Prince Talleyrand's compliments." + +Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed! I laff when I think of it, +still, the old surpint! He WAS a surpint, that Deuceace, and no +mistake. + +Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day +punctially as Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming UP the stairs, Mr. +Halgernon Percy Deuceace was going DOWN. He was as gay as a lark, +humming an Oppra tune, and twizzting round his head his hevy gold- +headed cane. Down he went very fast, and by a most unlucky axdent +struck his cane against the waiter's tray, and away went Mr. +Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, soda-water and all! I can't think +how my master should have choas such an exact time; to be sure, his +windo looked upon the court, and he could see every one who came +into our door. + +As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a rage as, +to be sure, no man ever was in befor; he swoar at the waiter in the +most dreddfle way; he threatened him with his stick, and it was +only when he see that the waiter was rayther a bigger man than +hisself that he was in the least pazzyfied. He returned to his own +chambres; and John, the waiter, went off for more gril to Dixes +Coffy-house. + +"This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles," says master +to me, after a few minits paws, during witch he had been and wrote +a note, put it into an anvelope, and sealed it with his big seal of +arms. "But stay--a thought strikes me--take this note to Mr. +Dawkins, and that pye you brought yesterday; and hearkye, you +scoundrel, if you say where you got it I will break every bone in +your skin!" + +These kind of promises were among the few which I knew him to keep: +and as I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I carried the noat, and +of cors said nothink. Waiting in Mr. Dawkinses chambus for a few +minnits, I returned to my master with an anser. I may as well give +both of these documence, of which I happen to have taken coppies: + + + I. + + THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. + + "TEMPLE, Tuesday. + +"Mr. DEUCEACE presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at +the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for +the accident which has just taken place. + +"May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to +remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power if Mr. +Dawkins will do him the favor to partake of the contents of the +accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a +friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps +he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the plat which Mr. +Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. + +"It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to +the original donor of the 'pate', when he learns that it has fallen +into the hands of so celebrated a bon vivant as Mr. Dawkins. + +"T. S. DAWKINS, Esq., &c. &c. &c." + + + II. + +FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + +"MR. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS presents his grateful compliments to the +Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. +Deuceace's generous proffer. + +"It would be one of the HAPPIEST MOMENTS of Mr. Smith Dawkins's +life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would EXTEND HIS GENEROSITY still +further, and condescend to partake of the repast which his +MUNIFICENT POLITENESS has furnished. + +"TEMPLE, Tuesday." + + +Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters, +which I had wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's copyin clark. +Deuceace's flam about Prince Tallyram was puffickly successful. I +saw young Dawkins blush with delite as he red the note; he toar up +for or five sheets before he composed the answer to it, which was +as you red abuff, and roat in a hand quite trembling with pleasyer. +If you could but have seen the look of triumph in Deuceace's wicked +black eyes, when he read the noat! I never see a deamin yet, but I +can phansy 1, a holding a writhing soal on his pitchfrock, and +smilin like Deuceace. He dressed himself in his very best clothes, +and in he went, after sending me over to say that he would except +with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. + +The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun betwixt +the two genlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. He spoke to Mr. +Dawkins in the most respeckful and flatrin manner,--agread in every +think he said,--prazed his taste, his furniter, his coat, his +classick nolledge, and his playin on the floot; you'd have thought, +to hear him, that such a polygon of exlens as Dawkins did not +breath,--that such a modist, sinsear, honrabble genlmn as Deuceace +was to be seen nowhere xcept in Pump Cort. Poor Daw was complitly +taken in. My master said he'd introduce him to the Duke of +Doncaster, and heaven knows how many nobs more, till Dawkins was +quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as a fac (and it pretty +well shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he went that very day +and ordered 2 new coats, on porpos to be introjuiced to the lords +in. + +But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and +swarink--up stares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung opn Mr. +Dawkins's door, shouting out, "Daw my old buck, how are you?" when, +all of a sudden, he sees Mr. Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned +chocky white, and then burnin red, and looked as if a stror would +knock him down. "My dear Mr. Blewitt," says my master, smilin and +offring his hand, "how glad I am to see you. Mr. Dawkins and I +were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down." + +Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other +out; but law bless you! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my master: all +the time he was fidgetty, silent, and sulky; on the contry, master +was charmin. I never herd such a flo of conversatin, or so many +wittacisms as he uttered. At last, completely beat, Mr. Blewitt +took his leaf; that instant master followed him; and passin his arm +through that of Mr. Dick, led him into our chambers, and began +talkin to him in the most affabl and affeckshnat manner. + +But Dick was too angry to listen; at last, when master was telling +him some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt burst out-- + +A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr. Deuceace, don't +you be running your rigs upon me; I ain't the man to be bamboozl'd +by long-winded stories about dukes and duchesses. You think I +don't know you; every man knows you and your line of country. Yes, +you're after young Dawkins there, and think to pluck him; but you +shan't,--no, by ---- you shan't." (The reader must recklect that +the oaths which interspussed Mr. B.'s convysation I have left out.) +Well, after he'd fired a wolley of 'em, Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool +as possbill. + +"Hark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal +thieves and scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector with me, I +will cane you; if you want more, I'll shoot you; if you meddle +between me and Dawkins, I will do both. I know your whole life, +you miserable swindler and coward. I know you have already won two +hundred pounds of this lad, and want all. I will have half, or you +never shall have a penny." It's quite true that master knew +things; but how was the wonder. + +I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on the +wrong side of the door; but there was a considdrable paws after +thuse complymints had passed between the two genlmn,--one walkin +quickly up and down the room--tother, angry and stupid, sittin +down, and stampin with his foot. + +"Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt," continues master at last. "If +you're quiet, you shall have half this fellow's money: but venture +to win a shilling from him in my absence, or without my consent, +and you do it at your peril." + +"Well, well, Mr. Deuceace," cries Dick, "it's very hard, and I must +say, not fair: the game was of my startin, and you've no right to +interfere with my friend." + +"Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday not to know +this man, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should +like to know by what law of honor I am bound to give him up to +you?" + +It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talkin about HONOR. I +declare I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of +the precious way in which these chaps were going to serve him. But +if THEY didn't know what honor was, I did; and never, never did I +tell tails about my masters when in their sarvice--OUT, in cors, +the hobligation is no longer binding. + +Well, the nex day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White +soop, turbit, and lobstir sos; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and +M'Arony; wines, shampang, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and +ever so many of clarrit. The compny presint was three; wiz., the +Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. +My i, how we genlmn in the kitchin did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man +eat so much grous (when it was brot out of the parlor), that I +reely thought he would be sik; Mr. Dawkinses genlmn (who was only +abowt 13 years of age) grew so il with M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as +to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's. pils, which 1/2 kild him. +But this is all promiscuous: I an't talkin of the survants now, but +the masters. + +Would you bleeve it? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine +between the 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game where +only 2 plays, and where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks +on. + +Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game +they were wonderful equill; and about supper-time (when grilled am, +more shampang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the +play stood thus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt 30 +shillings; the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost 3L. l0s. After +the devvle and the shampang the play was a little higher. Now it +was pound pints, and five pound the bet. I thought, to be sure, +after hearing the complymints between Blewitt and master in the +morning, that now poor Dawkins's time was come. + +Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and giving +him the very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was +abowt five o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was +counting up the skore on a card. + +"Blewitt," says he, "I've been unlucky. I owe you, let me see-- +yes, five-and-forty pounds?" + +"Five-and-forty," says Blewitt, "and no mistake!" + +"I will give you a cheque," says the honrabble genlmn. + +"Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!" But master got a grate sheet +of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit and Co., +his bankers. + +"Now," says master, "I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. +Dawkins. If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very +handsome sum of money. Voyons, thirteen points at a pound--it is +easy to calculate;" and drawin out his puss, he clinked over the +table 13 goolden suverings, which shon till they made my eyes wink. + +So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and +drew them in. + +"Let me say," added master, "let me say (and I've had some little +experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I +ever sat down." + +Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, "Law, +Deuceace, you flatter me." + +FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which +master ment. + +"But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, "I must have my revenge; +for I'm ruined--positively ruined by your luck." + +"Well, well," says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he +had gained a millium, "shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say +you?" + +Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little +demurring, consented too. "We'll meet," says he, "at your +chambers. But mind, my dear fello, not too much wine: I can't +stand it at any time, especially when I have to play ecarte with +YOU." + +Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. "Here, Charles," +says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew +what was a-comin! + +But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, +MASTER HAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 +more, from that young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, +since his interview with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. + + +Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least +bit wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his +money; as it was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a +very short time to part with it. + +Nex day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. +Dawkins had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev +his party,--dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D.'s as +befoar. Play begins at 11. This time I knew the bisness was +pretty serious, for we suvvants was packed off to bed at 2 o'clock. +On Friday, I went to chambers--no master--he kem in for 5 minutes +at about 12, made a little toilit, ordered more devvles and soda- +water, and back again he went to Mr. Dawkins's. + +They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all +the vittles came out to us genlmn: they had in more wine though, +and must have drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. + +At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to +his chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar +drunk. He staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he +swoar, he flung me a heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk down +exosted on his bed; I pullin off his boots and close, and making +him comfrabble. + +When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of every +servant to do--I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book +and all his letters: a number of axdents have been prevented that +way. + +I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty +dockyment-- + + + I. O. U. + L4700. + THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS. + Friday, 16th January. + + +There was another bit of paper of the same kind--"I. 0. U. four +hundred pounds: Richard Blewitt:" but this, in corse, ment nothink. + + . . . . . . + +Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He +drest, and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and +the two gentlmn went together. + +"Where shall he drive, sir?" says I. + +"Oh, tell him to drive to THE BANK." + +Pore Dawkins! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkenniss, +gave a shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle; and they +drove on. + +That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred +pounds. + + . . . . . . + +Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up +the stairs with a sollum and important hair. + +"Is your master at home?" says he. + +"Yes, sir," says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to +the keyhole, listning with all my mite. + +"Well," says Blewitt, "we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. +Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins." + +"Settled!" says master. "Oh, yes--yes--I've settled with him." + +"Four thousand seven hundred, I think?" + +"About that--yes." + +"That makes my share--let me see--two thousand three hundred and +fifty; which I'll thank you to fork out." + +"Upon my word--why--Mr. Blewitt," says master, "I don't really +understand what you mean." + +"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" says Blewitt, in an axent such as I +never before heard. "You don't know what I mean! Did you not +promise me that we were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty +sovereigns the other night to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't +you swear, on your honor as a gentleman, to give me half of all +that might be won in this affair?" + +"Agreed, sir," says Deuceace; "agreed." + +"Well, sir, and now what have you to say?" + +"Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool +and ninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I +was going to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, +that you should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! +Or, stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note +of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that +has passed between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon +Deuceace." + +I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He +stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began +blubbring; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. +Deuceace to grant him mercy. + +At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I +didn't tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, "Charles, +show the gentleman down stairs!" My master looked at him quite +steddy. Blewitt slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. +As for Dawkins, heaven knows where he was! + + . . . . . . + +"Charles," says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, "I'm +going to Paris; you may come, too, if you please." + + + + +FORING PARTS. + + +It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though he had +won this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to be as +extravygant and osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet, when he +determined on going to Paris, he didn't let a single frend know of +all them winnings of his; didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his father, +that he was about to leave his natiff shoars--neigh--didn't even so +much as call together his tradesmin, and pay off their little bills +befor his departure. + +On the contry, "Chawles," said he to me, "stick a piece of paper on +my door," which is the way that lawyers do, "and write 'Back at +seven' upon it." Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it on our outer +oak. And so mistearus was Deuceace about his continental tour (to +all except me), that when the landriss brought him her account for +the last month (amountain, at the very least, to 2L. 10s.), master +told her to leave it till Monday morning, when it should be +properly settled. It's extrodny how ickonomical a man becomes, +when he's got five thousand lbs. in his pockit. + +Back at 7 indeed! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover Road, in the +Reglator Coach--master inside, me out. A strange company of people +there was, too, in that wehicle,--3 sailors; an Italyin with his +music-box and munky; a missionary, going to convert the heathens in +France; 2 oppra girls (they call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure- +aunts' mothers inside; 4 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and +mustashes, singing, chattering, and jesticklating in the most +vonderful vay. Such compliments as passed between them and the +figure-aunts! such a munshin of biskits and sippin of brandy! such +"O mong Jews," and "O sacrrres," and "kill fay frwaws!" I didn't +understand their languidge at that time, so of course can't +igsplain much of their conwersation; but it pleased me, nevertheless, +for now I felt that I was reely going into foring parts: which, ever +sins I had had any edication at all, was always my fondest wish. +Heavin bless us! thought I, if these are specimeens of all +Frenchmen, what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's monky, +sittin mopin and meluncolly on his box, was not half so ugly, and +seamed quite as reasonabble. + +Well, we arrived at Dover--"Ship Hotel" weal cutlets half a ginny, +glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half a crownd, a +hapnyworth of wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master paid +without grumbling; as long as it was for himself he never minded +the expens: and nex day we embarked in the packit for Balong sir- +mare--which means in French, the town of Balong sityouated on the +sea. I who had heard of foring wonders, expected this to be the +fust and greatest: phansy, then, my disapintment, when we got +there, to find this Balong, not situated on the sea, but on the +SHOAR. + +But oh! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I did wish for Pump +Court agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel! Gentle +reader, av you ever been on the otion?--"The sea, the sea, the open +sea!" as Barry Cromwell says. As soon as we entered our little +wessel, and I'd looked to master's luggitch and mine (mine was rapt +up in a very small hankercher), as soon, I say, as we entered our +little wessel, as soon as I saw the waives, black and frothy, like +fresh drawn porter, a-dashin against the ribs of our galliant bark, +the keal like a wedge, splittin the billoes in two, the sales a- +flaffin in the hair, the standard of Hengland floating at the mask- +head, the steward a-getting ready the basins and things, the +capting proudly tredding the deck and giving orders to the salers, +the white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheens disappearing in the +distans--then, then I felt, for the first time, the mite, the +madgisty of existence. Yellowplush my boy," said I, in a dialogue +with myself, "your life is now about to commens--your carear, as a +man, dates from your entrans on board this packit. Be wise, be +manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are no +longer a boy now, but a FOOTMAN. Throw down your tops, your +marbles, your boyish games--throw off your childish habbits with +your inky clerk's jackit--throw up your--" + + . . . . . . + +Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the fust +place singlar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly +overpowering, had come upon me while I was making the abuff speach, +and now I found myself in a sityouation which Dellixy for Bids me +to describe. Suffis to say, that now I dixcovered what basins was +made for--that for many, many hours, I lay in a hagony of exostion, +dead to all intense and porpuses, the rain pattering in my face, +the salers tramplink over my body--the panes of purgatory going on +inside. When we'd been about four hours in this sityouation (it +seam'd to me four ears), the steward comes to that part of the deck +where we servants were all huddled up together, and calls out +"Charles!" + +"Well," says I, gurgling out a faint "yes, what's the matter?" + +"You're wanted." + +"Where?" + +"Your master's wery ill," says he, with a grin. + +"Master be hanged!" says I, turning round, more misrable than ever. +I woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand masters--no, not +for the Empror of Russia or the Pop of Room. + +Well, to cut this sad subjik short, many and many a voyitch have I +sins had upon what Shakspur calls the "wasty dip," but never such a +retched one as that from Dover to Balong, in the year Anna Domino +1818. Steemers were scarce in those days; and our journey was made +in a smack. At last, when I was in a stage of despare and +exostion, as reely to phansy myself at Death's doar, we got to the +end of our journey. Late in the evening we hailed the Gaelic +shoars, and hankered in the arbor of Balong sir-mare. + +It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master: and as we +entered the calm water, and saw the comfrabble lights gleaming in +the houses, and felt the roal of the vessel degreasing, never was +two mortials gladder, I warrant, than we were. At length our +capting drew up at the key, and our journey was down. But such a +bustle and clatter, such jabbering, such shrieking and swaring, +such wollies of oafs and axicrations as saluted us on landing, I +never knew! We were boarded, in the fust place, by custom-house +officers in cock-hats, who seased our luggitch, and called for our +passpots: then a crowd of inn-waiters came, tumbling and screaming +on deck--"Dis way, sare," cries one; "Hotel Meurice," says another; +"Hotel de Bang," screeches another chap--the tower of Babyle was +nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a big +fellow with ear-rings, who very nigh knock me down, in wrenching +master's carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carrying it to the +hotell. But we got to it safe at last; and, for the fust time in +my life, I slep in a foring country. + +I shan't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been +visited by not less (on an avaridg) than two milliums of English +since I fust saw it twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known +already. It's a dingy melumcolly place, to my mind; the only thing +moving in the streets is the gutter which runs down 'em. As for +wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em; and for frogs, upon my honor I +never see a single Frenchman swallow one, which I had been led to +beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, custom. One thing which +amazed me was the singlar name which they give to this town of +Balong. It's divided, as every boddy knows, into an upper town +(sitouate on a mounting, and surrounded by a wall, or bullyvar) and +a lower town, which is on the level of the sea. Well, will it be +believed that they call the upper town the Hot Veal, and the other +the Base Veal, which is on the contry, genrally good in France, +though the beaf, it must be confest, is excrabble. + +It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at the +Hotel de Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del Ascew; +and if he'd been the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of +Canterbury, he could not have given himself greater hairs, I can +tell you. Nothink was too fine for us now; we had a sweet of rooms +on the first floor, which belonged to the prime minister of France +(at least the landlord said they were the premier's); and the Hon. +Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had not paid his landriss, and came to +Dover in a coach, seamed now to think that goold was too vulgar for +him, and a carridge and six would break down with a man of his +weight. Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, besides bordo, +clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the delixes of +the Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, and +did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the bench, and +watch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of them long, +sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know why, tallow- +scoops. Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped here were boath +numerous and daliteful; nothink, in fact, could be more pickong, as +they say. In the morning before breakfast we boath walked on the +Peer; master in a blue mareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new +livry; both provided with long sliding opra-glasses, called as I +said (I don't know Y, but I suppose it's a scientafick term) +tallow-scoops. With these we igsamined, very attentively, the +otion, the sea-weed, the pebbles, the dead cats, the fishwimmin, +and the waives (like little children playing at leap-frog), which +came tumblin over 1 another on to the shoar. It seemed to me as if +they were scrambling to get there, as well they might, being sick +of the sea, and anxious for the blessid, peaceable terry firmy. + +After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his beat, +and me on mine,--for my place in this foring town was a complete +shinycure), and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, we +egsamined a little more the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on; +and this lasted till dinner, and dinner till bedtime, and bedtime +lasted till nex day, when came brexfast, and dinner, and tally- +scooping, as before. This is the way with all people of this town, +of which, as I've heard say, there is ten thousand happy English, +who lead this plesnt life from year's end to year's end. + +Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentlemen, a +little dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowygers. In none +of these amusements did we partake. We were a LITTLE too good to +play crown pints at cards, and never get paid when we won; or to go +dangling after the portionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops +and penny-wist along with the old ladies. No, no; my master was a +man of fortn now, and behayved himself as sich. If ever he +condysended to go into the public room of the Hotel de Bang--the +French (doubtless for reasons best known to themselves) call this a +sallymanjy--he swoar more and lowder than any one there; he +abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his glas in his +i, he staired at every body. He took always the place before the +fire. He talked about "my carridge," "my currier," "my servant;" +and he did wright. I've always found through life, that if you +wish to be respected by English people, you must be insalent to +them, especially if you are a sprig of nobiliaty. We LIKE being +insulted by noblemen,--it shows they're familiar with us. Law +bless us! I've known many and many a genlmn about town who'd +rather be kicked by a lord than not be noticed by him; they've even +had an aw of ME, because I was a lord's footman. While my master +was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airs I gave myself +in the kitching, I can tell you; and the consequints was, that we +were better served, and moar liked, than many pipple with twice our +merit. + +Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him so long +at Balong; and it clearly was his wish to act the man of fortune +there for a little time before he tried the character of Paris. He +purchased a carridge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine +new livry blazin with lace, and he past through the Balong bank a +thousand pounds of the money he had won from Dawkins, to his credit +at a Paris house; showing the Balong bankers at the same time, that +he'd plenty moar in his potfolie. This was killin two birds with +one stone; the bankers' clerks spread the nuse over the town, and +in a day after master had paid the money every old dowyger in +Balong had looked out the Crabs' family podigree in the Peeridge, +and was quite intimate with the Deuceace name and estates. If +Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's many vurtuous +English mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. + +Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town without +excommunicating with his father on the subject of his intended +continental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my +Lord Crabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a copy. It ran +thus:-- + + +"BOULOGNE, January 25. + +"MY DEAR FATHER,--I have long, in the course of my legal studies, +found the necessity of a knowledge of French, in which language all +the early history of our profession is written, and have determined +to take a little relaxation from chamber reading, which has +seriously injured my health. If my modest finances can bear a two +months' journey, and a residence at Paris, I propose to remain +there that period. + +"Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to +Lord Bobtail, our ambassador? My name, and your old friendship +with him, I know would secure me a reception at his house; but a +pressing letter from yourself would at once be more courteous, and +more effectual. + +"May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an +expensive man, my dear father, as you know; but we are no +chameleons, and fifty pounds (with my little earnings in my +profession) would vastly add to the agremens of my continental +excursion. + +"Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish +the hard portion of a younger son had not been mine, and that I +could live without the dire necessity for labor, happy among the +rural scenes of my childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters +and you! Heaven bless you, dearest father, and all those beloved +ones now dwelling under the dear old roof at Sizes. + +"Ever your affectionate son, + +"Algernon. + +"THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS, &c., + +SIZES COURT, BUCKS." + + +To this affeckshnat letter his lordship replied, by return of +poast, as follos:-- + + +"MY DEAR ALGERNON,--Your letter came safe to hand and I enclose you +the letter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and +has one of the best cooks in Europe. + +"We were all charmed with your warm remembrances of us, not having +seen you for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family +affection which, in spite of time and absence, still clings so +fondly to home. It is a sad, selfish world, and very few who have +entered it can afford to keep those fresh feelings which you have, +my dear son. + +"May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer. Be +sure, dear Algernon, that they will be through life your greatest +comfort, as well as your best worldly ally; consoling you in +misfortune, cheering you in depression, aiding and inspiring you to +exertion and success. + +"I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at Coutts's is so low, +just now, as to render a payment of your allowance for the present +impossible. I see by my book that I owe you now nine quarters, or +450L. Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully +paid over to you on the first opportunity. + +"By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the newspapers, +which may interest you: and have received a very strange letter +from a Mr. Blewitt, about a play transaction, which, I suppose, is +the case alluded to in these prints. He says you won 4700L. from +one Dawkins: that the lad paid it; that he, Blewitt, was to go what +he calls 'snacks' in the winning; but that you refused to share the +booty. How can you, my dear boy, quarrel with these vulgar people, +or lay yourself in any way open to their attacks? I have played +myself a good deal, and there is no man living who can accuse me of +a doubtful act. You should either have shot this Blewitt or paid +him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late to do the former; +and, perhaps, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. My +dearest boy! recollect through life that YOU NEVER CAN AFFORD TO BE +DISHONEST WITH A ROQUE. Four thousand seven hundred pounds was a +great coup, to be sure. + +"As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Algernon! +lend me five hundred pounds? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay +you. Your brothers and sisters send you their love. I need not +add, that you have always the blessings of your affectionate +father, + +"CRABS." + +"P.S.--Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a +thousand." + + . . . . . . + +I needn't say that this did not QUITE enter into Deuceace's +eyedears. Lend his father 500 pound, indeed! He'd as soon have +lent him a box on the year! In the fust place, he hadn seen old +Crabs for seven years, as that nobleman remarked in his epistol; in +the secknd he hated him, and they hated each other; and nex, if +master had loved his father ever so much, he loved somebody else +better--his father's son, namely: and sooner than deprive that +exlent young man of a penny, he'd have sean all the fathers in the +world hangin at Newgat, and all the "beloved ones," as he called +his sisters, the Lady Deuceacisses, so many convix at Bottomy Bay. + +The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret WE wished to +keep the play transaction, the public knew it now full well. +Blewitt, as I found after, was the author of the libels which +appeared right and left: + + +"GAMBLING IN HIGH LIFE--the HONORABLE Mr. D--c--ce again!--This +celebrated whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some +profit. On Friday, the 16th January, he won five thousand pounds +from a VERY young gentleman, Th-m-s Sm-th D-wk-ns, Esq., and lost +two thousand five hundred to R. Bl-w-tt, Esq., of the T-mple. Mr. +D. very honorably paid the sum lost by him to the honorable whist- +player, but we have not heard that, BEFORE HIS SUDDEN TRIP TO +PARIS, Mr. D--uc--ce paid HIS losings to Mr. Bl-w-tt." + + +Nex came a "Notice to Corryspondents:" + + +"Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the +notorious Deuceace? We answer, WE DO; and, in our very next +Number, propose to make some of them public." + + . . . . . . + +They didn't appear, however; but, on the contry, the very same +newspeper, which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, was now +loud in his praise. It said:-- + + +"A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last +week, most unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of high +birth and talents, the son of the exemplary E-rl of Cr-bs. We +repel, with scorn and indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the +malignant slanderer who vilified Mr. De--ce-ce, and beg to offer +that gentleman the only reparation in our power for having thus +tampered with his unsullied name. We disbelieve the RUFFIAN and +HIS STORY, and most sincerely regret that such a tale, or SUCH A +WRITER, should ever have been brought forward to the readers of +this paper." + + +This was satisfactory, and no mistake: and much pleased we were at +the denial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased that +master sent him a ten-pound noat, and his complymints. He'd sent +another to the same address, BEFORE this parrowgraff was printed; +WHY, I can't think: for I woodn't suppose any thing musnary in a +littery man. + +Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the +carridge smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we +bade ojew to Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What a figure +we cut! and, my i, what a figger the postillion cut! A cock-hat, a +jackit made out of a cow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig- +tale about 3 fit in length, and a pair of boots! Oh, sich a pare! +A bishop might almost have preached out of one, or a modrat-sized +famly slep in it. Me and Mr. Schwigshhnaps, the currier, sate +behind in the rumbill; master aloan in the inside, as grand as a +Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off we sett, bowing +gracefly to the crowd; the harniss-bells jinglin, the great white +hosses snortin, kickin, and squeelin, and the postilium cracking +his wip, as loud as if he'd been drivin her majesty the quean. + + . . . . . . + +Well, I shan't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties, +willitches, and metrappolishes; sleeping the fust night at Amiens, +witch, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for +what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done +with sugar and brown sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the +boasting about them, I think I like our marrowphats better. + +Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened here +concarning them. Master, who was brexfasting before going away, +told me to go and get him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald +the waiter of the inn, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always +do), said "Bong" (which means, very well), and presently came back. + +I'M BLEST IF HE DIDN'T BRING MASTER A PLATE OF CABBITCH! Would you +bleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they say +there's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses are so +extonishingly ignorant as to call a CABBIDGE a SHOO! Never, never +let it be said, after this, that these benighted, souperstitious, +misrabble SAVIDGES, are equill, in any respex, to the great +Brittish people. The moor I travvle, the moor I see of the world, +and other natiums, I am proud of my own, and despise and deplore +the retchid ignorance of the rest of Yourup. + + . . . . . . + +My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early opportunity. Me +and Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you. + + + + +MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. + + +CHAPTER I. + + +THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY. + + +Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K.C.B., was about seventy- +five years old when he left this life, and the East Ingine army, of +which he was a distinguished ornyment. Sir George's first +appearance in Injar was in the character of a cabbingboy to a +vessel; from which he rose to be clerk to the owners at Calcutta, +from which he became all of a sudden a capting in the Company's +service; and so rose and rose, until he rose to be a leftenant- +general, when he stopped rising altogether--hopping the twig of +this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors must do. + +Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the name of +Griffin. A widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching +twenty-three, was left behind to deploar his loss, and share his +proppaty. On old Sir George's deth, his interesting widdo and +orfan, who had both been with him in Injer, returned home--tried +London for a few months, did not like it, and resolved on a trip to +Paris; where very small London people become very great ones, if +they've money, as these Griffinses had. The intelligent reader +need not be told that Miss Griffin was not the daughter of Lady +Griffin; for though marritches are made tolrabbly early in Injer, +people are not quite so precoashoos as all that: the fact is, Lady +G. was Sir George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that Miss +Matilda Griffin wos the offspring of his fust marritch. + +Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken out to +Calcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disposed +of by her uncle, Capting Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she +married Sir George at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine +of whom kep a school at Islington (the other 4 being married +variously in the city), were not a little envius of my lady's luck, +and not a little proud of their relationship to her. One of 'em, +Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, and by no means the least ugly of +the sett, was staying with her ladyship, and gev me all the +partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, being of a lo sort, I in +course no nothink; MY acquaintance, thank my stars, don't lie among +them, or the likes of them. + +Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat +sister, in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing! I'd a +soon be a gally slave, as lead the life she did! Every body in the +house despised her; her ladyship insulted her; the very kitching +gals scorned and flouted her. She roat the notes, she kep the +bills, she made the tea, she whipped the chocklate, she cleaned the +canary birds, and gev out the linning for the wash. She was my +lady's walking pocket, or rettycule; and fetched and carried her +handkercher, or her smell-bottle, like a well-bred spaniel. All +night, at her ladyship's swarries, she thumped kidrills (nobody +ever thought of asking HER to dance!); when Miss Griffing sung, she +played the piano, and was scolded because the singer was out of +tune; abommanating dogs, she never drove out without her ladyship's +puddle in her lap; and, reglarly unwell in a carriage, she never +got anything but the back seat. Poar Jemima! I can see her now in +my lady's SECKND-BEST old clothes (the ladies'-maids always got the +prime leavings): a liloc sattn gown, crumpled, blotched, and +greasy; a pair of white sattn shoes, of the color of Inger rubber; +a faded yellow velvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl flowers run +to sead, and a bird of Parrowdice perched on the top of it, +melumcolly and moulting, with only a couple of feathers left in his +unfortunate tail. + +Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Lady and Miss Griffin kept a +number of other servants in the kitching; 2 ladies'-maids; 2 +footmin, six feet high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white +cassymear pantyloons; a coachmin to match; a page: and a Shassure, +a kind of servant only known among forriners, and who looks more +like a major-general than any other mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a +unicorn covered with silver lace, mustashos, eplets, and a sword by +his side. All these to wait upon two ladies; not counting a host +of the fair sex, such as cooks, scullion, housekeepers, and so +forth. + +My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a grand +sweet of rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having thus +described their house, and their servants' hall, I may give a few +words of description concerning the ladies themselves. + +In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My lady +was twenty-seven--a widdo of two years--fat, fair, and rosy. A +slow, quiet, cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals +generally are, it seemed difficult to rouse her either into likes +or dislikes; to the former, at least. She never loved any body but +ONE, and that was herself. She hated, in her calm, quiet way, +almost every one else who came near her--every one, from her +neighbor, the duke, who had slighted her at dinner, down to John +the footman, who had torn a hole in her train. I think this +woman's heart was like one of them lithograffic stones, you CAN'T +RUB OUT ANY THING when once it's drawn or wrote on it; nor could +you out of her ladyship's stone--heart, I mean--in the shape of an +affront, a slight, or real, or phansied injury. She boar an +exlent, irreprotchable character, against which the tongue of +scandal never wagged. She was allowed to be the best wife posbill-- +and so she was; but she killed her old husband in two years, as +dead as ever Mr. Thurtell killed Mr. William Weare. She never got +into a passion, not she--she never said a rude word; but she'd a +genius--a genius which many women have--of making A HELL of a +house, and tort'ring the poor creatures of her family, until they +were wellnigh drove mad. + +Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as amiable +as her mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted; my lady, to +do her justice, was straight, and looked the same way with her i's. +She was dark, and my lady was fair--sentimental, as her ladyship +was cold. My lady was never in a passion--Miss Matilda always; and +awfille were the scenes which used to pass between these 2 women, +and the wickid, wickid quarls which took place. Why did they live +together? There was the mistry. Not related, and hating each +other like pison, it would surely have been easier to remain +seprat, and so have detested each other at a distans. + +As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it was +clear, was very considrabble--300 thousand lb. at the least, as I +have heard say. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. Some said +that her ladyship was sole mistriss of it, others that it was +divided, others that she had only a life inkum, and that the money +was all to go (as was natral) to Miss Matilda. These are subjix +which are not praps very interesting to the British public, but +were mighty important to my master, the Honrable Algernon Percy +Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, etsettler. + +For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very intimat in +this house; and that we were now comfortably settled at the Hotel +Mirabew (pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rew delly Pay, at +Paris. We had our cab, and two riding horses; our banker's book, +and a thousand pound for a balantz at Lafitt's; our club at the +corner of the Rew Gramong; our share in a box at the oppras; our +apartments, spacious and elygant; our swarries at court; our +dinners at his excellency Lord Bobtail's and elsewhere. Thanks to +poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, we were as complete gentlemen +as any in Paris. + +Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself at the +head of a smart sum of money, and in a country where his debts +could not bother him, determined to give up for the present every +think like gambling--at least, high play; as for losing or winning +a ralow of Napoleums at whist or ecarty, it did not matter; +it looks like money to do such things, and gives a kind of +respectabilaty. "But as for play, he wouldn't--oh no! not for +worlds!--do such a thing." He HAD played, like other young men of +fashn, and won and lost [old fox! he didn't say he had PAID]; but +he had given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said, to +live on his inkum. The fact is, my master was doing his very best +to act the respectable man: and a very good game it is, too; but it +requires a precious great roag to play it. + +He made his appearans reglar at church--me carrying a handsome +large black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the psalms and +lessons marked out with red ribbings; and you'd have thought, as I +graivly laid the volloms down before him, and as he berried his +head in his nicely brushed hat, before service began, that such a +pious, proper morl, young nobleman was not to be found in the whole +of the peeridge. It was a comfort to look at him. Efry old tabby +and dowyger at my Lord Bobtail's turned up the wights of their i's +when they spoke of him, and vowed they had never seen such a dear, +daliteful, exlent young man. What a good son he must be, they +said; and oh, what a good son-in-law! He had the pick of all the +English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, +unfortunately, most of them were poar; and love and a cottidge was +not quite in master's way of thinking. + +Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. made their +appearants at Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon +changed his noat. He sate near them at chapple, and sung hims with +my lady: he danced with 'em at the embassy balls; he road with them +in the Boy de Balong and the Shandeleasies (which is the French +High Park); he roat potry in Miss Griffin's halbim, and sang jewets +along with her and Lady Griffin; he brought sweet-meats for the +puddle-dog; he gave money to the footmin, kissis and gloves to the +sniggering ladies'-maids; he was sivvle even to poar Miss Kicksey; +there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses that didn't adoar this +good young man. + +The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each +other now wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy between +them: miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty; madam of miss's +espree: miss taunting my lady about the school at Islington, and my +lady sneering at miss for her squint and her crookid back. And now +came a stronger caws. They both fell in love with Mr. Deuceace--my +lady, that is to say, as much as she could, with her cold selfish +temper. She liked Deuceace, who amused her and made her laff. She +liked his manners, his riding, and his good loox; and being a +pervinew herself had a dubble respect for real aristocratick flesh +and blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flams and fury. +She'd always been at this work from the time she had been at +school, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master; next +with a footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no means +unnatral or unusyouall, as I COULD SHOW IF I LIKED); and so had +been going on sins fifteen. She reglarly flung herself at +Deuceace's head--such sighing, crying, and ogling, I never see. +Often was I ready to bust out laffin, as I brought master skoars of +rose-colored billydoos, folded up like cockhats, and smellin like +barber's shops, which this very tender young lady used to address +to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and no mistake, he was +a gentlemin, and a man of good breading; and miss CAME A LITTLE TOO +STRONG (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression) with her hardor and +attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides, she had a crookid +spine, and a squint; so that (supposing their fortns tolrabbly +equal) Deuceace reely preferred the mother-in-law. + +Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most money. +With an English famly this would have been easy: a look at a will +at Doctor Commons'es would settle the matter at once. But this +India naybob's will was at Calcutty, or some outlandish place; and +there was no getting sight of a coppy of it. I will do Mr. +Algernon Deuceace the justass to say, that he was so little musnary +in his love for Lady Griffin, that he would have married her +gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds less than Miss Matilda. +In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both in play, until he +could strike the best fish of the two--not a difficult matter for a +man of his genus: besides, Miss was hooked for certain. + + +CHAPTER II. + +"HONOR THY FATHER." + + +I said that my master was adoard by every person in my Lady +Griffin's establishmint. I should have said by every person excep +one,--a young French gnlmn, that is, who, before our appearants, +had been mighty partiklar with my lady, ockupying by her side +exackly the same pasition which the Honrable Mr. Deuceace now held. +It was bewtiffle and headifying to see how coolly that young +nobleman kicked the poar Shevalliay de L'Orge out of his shoes, and +how gracefully he himself stept into 'em. Munseer de L'Orge was a +smart young French jentleman, of about my master's age and good +looks, but not possest of half my master's impidince. Not that +that quallaty is uncommon in France; but few, very few, had it to +such a degree as my exlent employer, Mr. Deuceace. Besides De +L'Orge was reglarly and reely in love with Lady Griffin, and master +only pretending: he had, of coars, an advantitch, which the poor +Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and gaty, while +Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My master had said twenty +pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the shevalier had finished +smoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his +weskit. O luv, luv! THIS isn't the way to win a woman, or my +name's not Fitzroy Yellowplush! Myself, when I begun my carear +among the fair six, I was always sighing and moping, like this poar +Frenchman. What was the consquints? The foar fust women I adoared +lafft at me, and left me for something more lively. With the rest +I have edopted a diffrent game, and with tolerable suxess, I can +tell you. But this is eggatism, which I aboar. + +Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdinand +Hyppolite Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was reglar cut out +by Munseer Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand did +not leave the house--he hadn't the heart to do that--nor had my +lady the desire to dismiss him. He was usefle in a thousand +different ways, gitting oppra-boxes, and invitations to French +swarries, bying gloves, and O de Colong, writing French noats, and +such like. Always let me recommend an English famly, going to +Paris, to have at least one young man of the sort about them. +Never mind how old your ladyship is, he will make love to you; +never mind what errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and do +them. Besides, he's always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx +moar than a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to +consider. Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de L'Orge--the +greatest use and comfort to my lady posbill; if it was but to laff +at his bad pronunciatium of English, it was somethink amusink; the +fun was to pit him against poar Miss Kicksey, she speakin French, +and he our naytif British tong. + +My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this poar +young Frenchman; and having kicked him out of the place which he +occupied, sertingly treated his fallen anymy with every respect and +consideration. Poar modist, down-hearted little Ferdinand adoured +my lady as a goddice! and so he was very polite likewise to my +master--never venturing once to be jellows of him, or to question +my Lady Griffin's right to change her lover, if she choase to do +so. + +Thus, then, matters stood; master had two strinx to his bo, and +might take either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred: com bong +lwee somblay, as the Frentch say. His only pint was to discover +how the money was disposed off, which evidently belonged to one or +other, or boath. At any rate he was sure of one; as sure as any +mortal man can be in this sublimary spear, where nothink is suttin +except unsertnty. + + . . . . . . + +A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal +changed my master's calkylations. + +One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after +suppink of white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang glassy (which +means eyced), at their house in the Plas Vandom, me and master +droav hoam in the cab, as happy as possbill. + +"Chawls you d----d scoundrel," says he to me (for he was in an +exlent humer), "when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis." + +This he might do, to be sure, without injuring himself, seeing that +he had us yet never paid me any. But, what then? Law bless us! +things would be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived on our +WAGIS; our puckwisits is the thing, and no mistake. + +I ixprest my gratitude as best I could; swoar that it wasn't for +wagis I served him--that I would as leaf weight upon him for +nothink; and that never, never, so long as I livd, would I, of my +own accord, part from such an exlent master. By the time these two +spitches had been made--my spitch and his--we arrived at the "Hotel +Mirabeu;" which, us every body knows, ain't very distant from the +Plas Vandome. Up we marched to our apartmince, me carrying the +light and the cloax, master hummink a hair out of the oppra, as +merry as a lark. + +I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in the +room; an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floar, another on the +table; near which the sofy was drawn, and on it lay a stout old +genlmn, smoaking seagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room. + +Deuceace (who abommunates seagars, as I've already shown) bust into +a furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see for +the smoak; and, with a number of oaves quite unnecessary to repeat, +asked him what bisniss he'd there. + +The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his seagar, began a ror of +laffin, and said, "What! Algy my boy! don't you know me?" + +The reader may praps recklect a very affecting letter which was +published in the last chapter of these memoars; in which the writer +requested a loan of five hundred pound from Mr. Algernon Deuceace, +and which boar the respected signatur of the Earl of Crabs, Mr. +Deuceace's own father. It was that distinguished arastycrat who +was now smokin and laffin in our room. + +My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A stowt, +burly, red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose seemed blushing +at what his mouth was continually swallowing; whose hand, praps, +trembled a little; and whose thy and legg was not quite so full or +as steddy as they had been in former days. But he was a +respecktabble, fine-looking old nobleman; and though it must be +confest, 1/2 drunk when we fust made our appearance in the salong, +yet by no means moor so than a reel noblemin ought to be. + +"What, Algy my boy!" shouts out his lordship, advancing and seasing +master by the hand, "doan't you know your own father?" + +Master seemed anythink but overhappy. "My lord," says he, looking +very pail, and speakin rayther slow, "I didn't--I confess--the +unexpected pleasure--of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir, +said he," recovering himself a little; "the fact is, there was such +a confounded smoke of tobacco in the room, that I really could not +see who the stranger was who had paid me such an unexpected visit." + +"A bad habit, Algernon; a bad habit," said my lord, lighting +another seagar: "a disgusting and filthy practice, which you, my +dear child, will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, +but a nasty, idle pastime, unfitting a man as well for mental +exertion as for respectable society; sacrificing, at once, the +vigor of the intellect and the graces of the person. By-the-by, +what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, in this hotel. Could not +you send your servant to get me a few seagars at the Cafe de Paris? +Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, that's a good +fellow." + +Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of +shampang. Very sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me on +the errint. + +Knowing the Cafe de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say a +word, but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room; where, as it +happened by a singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of the +conversation between this exlent pair of relatifs. + +"Help yourself, and get another bottle," says my lord, after a +sollum paws. My poar master, the king of all other compnies in +which he moved, seamed here but to play secknd fiddill, and went to +the cubbard, from which his father had already igstracted two +bottils of his prime Sillary. + +He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the windows, +stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and +suttnly seamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no +use; the old one would not budg. "Help yourself," says he again, +"and pass me the bottil." + +"You are very good, father," says master; "but really, I neither +drink nor smoke." + +"Right, my boy: quite right. Talk about a good conscience in this +life--a good STOMACK is everythink. No bad nights, no headachs-- +eh? Quite cool and collected for your law studies in the morning?-- +eh?" And the old nobleman here grinned, in a manner which would +have done creddit to Mr. Grimoldi. + +Master sate pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier under the +cat. He didn't anser a word. His exlent pa went on, warming as he +continued to speak, and drinking a fresh glas at evry full stop. + +"How you must improve, with such talents and such principles! Why, +Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance: +you're not merely a philosopher, man; hang it! you've got the +philosopher's stone. Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all +for 200 a year!" + +"I presume, sir," says my master, "that you mean the two hundred a +year which YOU pay me?" + +"The very sum, my boy; the very sum!" cries my lord, laffin as if +he would die. "Why, that's the wonder! I never pay the two +hundred a year, and you keep all this state up upon nothing. Give +me your secret, O you young Trismegistus! Tell your old father how +such wonders can be worked, and I will--yes, then, upon my word, I +will--pay you your two hundred a year!" + +"Enfin, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and losing all +patience, "will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit +means? You leave me to starve, for all you care; and you grow +mighty facetious because I earn my bread. You find me in +prosperity, and--" + +"Precisely, my boy; precisely. Keep your temper, and pass that +bottle. I find you in prosperity; and a young gentleman of your +genius and acquirements asks me why I seek your society? Oh, +Algernon! Algernon! this is not worthy of such a profound +philosopher. WHY do I seek you? Why, because you ARE in +prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil should I bother my self +about you? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, ever get from +you a single affectionate feeling? Did we, or any other of your +friends or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honest +or generous action? Did we ever pretend any love for you, or you +for us? Algernon Deuceace, you don't want a father to tell you +that you are a swindler and a spendthrift! I have paid thousands +for the debts of yourself and your brothers; and, if you pay nobody +else, I am determined you shall repay me. You would not do it by +fair means, when I wrote to you and asked you for a loan of money. +I knew you would not. Had I written again to warn you of my +coming, you would have given me the slip; and so I came, uninvited, +to FORCE you to repay me. THAT'S why I am here, Mr. Algernon; and +so help yourself and pass the bottle." + +After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, and puffed +as much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chimley of a +steam-injian. I was pleased, I confess, with the sean, and liked +to see this venrabble and virtuous old man a-nocking his son about +the hed; just as Deuceace had done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, as +I've before shown. Master's face was, fust, red-hot; next, chawk- +white: and then sky-blew. He looked, for all the world, like Mr. +Tippy Cooke in the tragady of Frankinstang. At last, he mannidged +to speek. + +"My lord," says he, "I expected when I saw you that some such +scheme was on foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at least it +is but a family failing; and I am indebted for my virtues to my +father's precious example. Your lordship has, I perceive, added +drunkenness to the list of your accomplishments, and, I suppose, +under the influence of that gentlemanly excitement, has come to +make these preposterous propositions to me. When you are sober, +you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, that, fool as I may be, +I am not such a fool as you think me; and that if I have got money, +I intend to keep it--every farthing of it, though you were to be +ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening as you are now." + +"Well, well, my boy," said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have been half +asleep during his son's oratium, and received all his sneers and +surcasms with the most complete good-humor; "well, well, if you +will resist, tant pis pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you, +recollect, and am not in the slightest degree angry but I must and +will have a thousand pounds. You had better give me the money at +once; it will cost you more if you don't." + +"Sir," says Mr. Deuceace, "I will be equally candid. I would not +give you a farthing to save you from--" + +Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my hat, said, +"I have been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the house is shut." + +"Bon: there's a good lad; you may keep the five francs. And now, +get me a candle and show me down stairs." + +But my master seized the wax taper. "Pardon me, my lord," says he. +"What! a servant do it, when your son is in the room? Ah, par +exemple, my dear father," said he, laughing, "you think there is no +politeness left among us." And he led the way out. + +"Good night, my dear boy," said Lord Crabs, + +"God bless you, sir," says he. "Are you wrapped warm? Mind the +step!" + +And so this affeckshnate pair parted. + + +CHAPTER III. + +MINEWVRING. + + +Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants--he seamed to +think that his pa's visit boded him no good. I heard him muttering +at his brexfast, and fumbling among his hundred pound notes; once +he had laid a parsle of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send +'em to his father. "But no," says he at last, clutching them all +up together again, and throwing them into his escritaw, "what harm +can he do me? If he is a knave, I know another who's full as +sharp. Let's see if we cannot beat him at his own weapons." With +that Mr. Deuceace drest himself in his best clothes, and marched +off to the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to the fair widdo and the +intresting orfn. + +It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on seeing +them, a number of planns for the day's rackryation. Riding in the +Body Balong, going to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet (who +was then the raining sufferin of the French crownd) go to chapple, +and, finely, a dinner at 5 o'clock at the Caffy de Parry; whents +they were all to adjourn, to see a new peace at the theatre of the +Pot St. Martin, called Sussannar and the Elders. + +The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepositiums. +"We have an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon," said my lady. +"Look--a very kind letter from Lady Bobtail." And she handed over +a pafewmd noat from that exolted lady. It ran thus:-- + + +"FBG. ST. HONORE, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. + +"MY DEAR LADY GRIFFIN,--It is an age since we met. Harassing +public duties occupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have +scarce time to see our private friends; among whom, I hope, my dear +Lady Griffin will allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so +unceremonious an invitation, and dine with us at the embassy to- +day? We shall be en petite comite, and shall have the pleasure of +hearing, I hope, some of your charming daughter's singing in the +evening. I ought, perhaps, to have addressed a separate, note to +dear Miss Griffin; but I hope she will pardon a poor diplomate, who +has so many letters to write, you know. + +"Farewell till seven, when I POSITIVELY MUST see you both. Ever, +dearest Lady Griffin, your affectionate + +"ELIZA BOBTAIL." + + +Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's +Shassure, and sealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody in +the middling ranx of life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with delight; +and, long before my master's arrivle, she'd sent Mortimer and +Fitzclarence, her two footmin, along with a polite reply in the +affummatiff. + +Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt that +there was somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, though he +could not tell how, was sure that some danger was near him. That +old fox of a father of his had begun his M'Inations pretty early! + +Deuceace handed back the letter; sneared, and poohd, and hinted +that such an invitation was an insult at best (what he called a +pees ally); and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent +because Lady Bobtail wanted to fill up two spare places at her +table. But Lady Griffin and Miss would not have his insinwations; +they knew too fu lords ever to refuse an invitatium from any one of +them. Go they would; and poor Deuceace must dine alone. After +they had been on their ride, and had had their other amusemince, +master came back with them, chatted, and laft; he was mighty +sarkastix with my lady; tender and sentrymentle with Miss; and left +them both in high sperrits to perform their twollet, before dinner. + +As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of the +house), as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab, I saw +master very quietly taking his pocket-book (or pot fool, as the +French call it) and thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the +sofa. What game is this? thinx I. + +Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he knew the +ladies were gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the loss of +his potfolio; and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek for it +there. + +"Pray," says he, on going in, "ask Miss Kicksey if I may see her +for a single moment." And down comes Miss Kicksey, quite smiling, +and happy to see him. + +"Law, Mr. Deuceace!" says she, trying to blush as hard as ever she +could, "you quite surprise me! I don't know whether I ought, +really, being alone, to admit a gentleman." + +"Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey! for do you know, I came here +for a double purpose--to ask about a pocket-book which I have lost, +and may, perhaps, have left here; and then, to ask you if you will +have the great goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and give him a +cup of your nice tea?" + +NICE TEA! I thot I should have split; for I'm blest if master had +eaten a morsle of dinner! + +Never mind: down to tea they sat. "Do you take cream and sugar, +dear sir?" says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a tuttle- +duff. + +"Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!" answers master; who stowed in a power +of sashong and muffinx which would have done honor to a washawoman. + +I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master +and this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took the +trouble to talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea. He +wanted to find out from her all she knew about the famly money +matters, and settle at once which of the two Griffinses he should +marry. + +The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as my master. +In a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspression, +"turned her inside out." He knew everything that she knew; and +that, poar creature, was very little. There was nine thousand a +year, she had heard say, in money, in houses, in banks in Injar, +and what not. Boath the ladies signed papers for selling or +buying, and the money seemed equilly divided betwigst them. + +NINE THOUSAND A YEAR! Deuceace went away, his cheex tingling, his +heart beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning, if he +liked, be master of five thousand per hannum! + +Yes. But how? Which had the money, the mother or the daughter? +All the tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of nollidge; and +Deuceace thought it a pity that he could not marry both. + + . . . . . . + +The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their +reception at the ambasdor's; and, stepping out of their carridge, +bid coachmin drive on with a gentlemin who had handed them out--a +stout old gentlemin, who shook hands most tenderly at parting, and +promised to call often upon my Lady Griffin. He was so polite, +that he wanted to mount the stairs with her ladyship; but no, she +would not suffer it. "Edward," says she to the coachmin, quite +loud, and pleased that all the people in the hotel should hear her, +"you will take the carriage, and drive HIS LORDSHIP home." Now, +can you guess who his lordship was? The Right Hon. the Earl of +Crabs, to be sure; the very old genlmn whom I had seen on such +charming terms with his son the day before. Master knew this the +nex day, and began to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the +thousand pound. + +Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's only +came to my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em here, +word for word, as they was told me by the very genlmn who waited +behind Lord Crabseses chair. + +There was only a "petty comity" at dinner, as Lady Bobtail said; +and my Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Griffinses, being +mighty ellygant and palite to both. "Allow me," says he to Lady G. +(between the soop and the fish), "my dear madam, to thank you-- +fervently thank you for your goodness to my poor boy. Your +ladyship is too young to experience, but, I am sure, far too tender +not to understand the gratitude which must fill a fond parent's +heart for kindness shown to his child. Believe me," says my lord, +looking her full and tenderly in the face, "that the favors you +have done to another have been done equally to myself, and awaken +in my bosom the same grateful and affectionate feelings with which +you have already inspired my son Algernon." + +Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell +into her fish-plate: and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as +she would so many musharuins. My lord (whose powers of slack-jaw +was notoarious) nex addrast another spitch to Miss Griffin. He +said he'd heard how Deuceace was SITUATED. Miss blusht--what a +happy dog he was--Miss blusht crimson, and then he sighed deeply, +and began eating his turbat and lobster sos. Master was a good un +at flumry, but, law bless you! he was no moar equill to the old man +than a mole-hill is to a mounting. Before the night was over, he +had made as much progress as another man would in a ear. One +almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked +leering i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of +annygoats, and, above all, the bewtific, morl, religious, and +honrabble toan of his genral conservation. Praps you will say that +these ladies were, for such rich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated; +but recklect, my dear sir, that they were fresh from Injar,--that +they'd not sean many lords,--that they adoared the peeridge, as +every honest woman does in England who has proper feelinx, and has +read the fashnabble novvles,--and that here at Paris was their fust +step into fashnabble sosiaty. + +Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing "Die tantie," or +"Dip your chair," or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs (when +she began this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my lord gets +hold of Lady Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her in a +very different strane. + +"What a blessing it is for us all," says he, "that Algernon has +found a friend so respectable as your ladyship." + +"Indeed, my lord; and why? I suppose I am not the only respectable +friend that Mr. Deuceace has?" + +"No, surely; not the only one he HAS HAD: his birth, and, permit me +to say, his relationship to myself, have procured him many. But--" +(here my lord heaved a very affecting and large sigh). + +"But what?" says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his dismal +face. "You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them or is +unworthy of them?" + +"I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, +thoughtless, extravagant, and embarrassed: and you know a man under +these circumstances is not very particular as to his associates." + +"Embarrassed? Good heavens! He says he has two thousand a year +left him by a god-mother; and he does not seem even to spend his +income--a very handsome independence, too, for a bachelor." + +My lord nodded his head sadly, and said,--"Will your ladyship give +me your word of honor to be secret? My son has but a thousand a +year, which I allow him, and is heavily in debt. He has played, +madam, I fear; and for this reason I am so glad to hear that he is +in a respectable domestic circle, where he may learn, in the +presence of far greater and purer attractions, to forget the dice- +box, and the low company which has been his bane." + +My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true? Was +Deuceace sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a +sharper wooing her for her money? Could she doubt her informer? +his own father, and, what's more, a real flesh and blood pear of +parlyment? She determined she would try him. Praps she did not +know she had liked Deuceace so much, until she kem to feel how much +she should HATE him if she found he'd been playing her false. + +The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen,--my lord +driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and Miss walking +up stairs to their own apartmince. + +Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and smiling, +and evidently full of a secret,--something mighty pleasant, to +judge from her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was making +tea for the ladies (for in that house they took a cup regular +before bedtime), "Well, my lady," says she, "who do you think has +been to drink tea with me?" Poar thing, a frendly face was a event +in her life--a tea-party quite a hera! + +"Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my lady, looking grave. "I +wish, Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing with my +domestics. Recollect, madam, that you are sister to Lady Griffin." + +"No, my lady, it was not Lenoir; it was a gentleman, and a handsome +gentleman, too." + +"Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then," says Miss; "he promised to +bring me some guitar-strings." + +"No, nor yet M. de l'Orge. He came, but was not so polite as to +ask for me. What do you think of your own beau, the Honorable Mr. +Algernon Deuceace;" and, so saying, poar Kicksey clapped her hands +together, and looked as joyfle as if she'd come in to a fortin. + +"Mr. Deuceace here; and why, pray?" says my lady, who recklected +all that his exlent pa had been saying to her. + +"Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in the +second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea; which he took, +and stayed with me an hour, or moar." + +"And pray, Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite contempshusly, +"what may have been the subject of your conversation with Mr. +Algernon? Did you talk politics, or music, or fine arts, or +metaphysics?" Miss M. being what was called a blue (as most hump- +backed women in sosiaty are), always made a pint to speak on these +grand subjects. + +"No, indeed; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had, you +know, Matilda, I should never have understood him. First we talked +about the weather, next about muffins and crumpets. Crumpets, he +said, he liked best; and then we talked" (here Miss Kicksey's voice +fell) "about poor dear Sir George in heaven! what a good husband he +was, and--" + +"What a good fortune he left, eh, Miss Kicksey?" says my lady, with +a hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. + +"Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed +husband, and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was quite +charming to hear him, dear man!" + +"And pray, Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him?" + +"Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a year, and--" + +"What then?" + +"Why, nothing; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had ninety," +says poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. + +"Ninety fiddlesticks! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the money was +left, and to which of us?" + +"Yes; but I could not tell him." + +"I knew it!" says my lady, slapping down her tea-cup,--"I knew it!" + +"Well!" says Miss Matilda, "and why not, Lady Griffin? There is no +reason you should break your tea-cup, because Algernon asks a +harmless question. HE is not mercenary; he is all candor, +innocence, generosity! He is himself blessed with a sufficient +portion of the world's goods to be content; and often and often has +he told me he hoped the woman of his choice might come to him +without a penny, that he might show the purity of his affection." + +"I've no doubt," says my lady. "Perhaps the lady of his choice is +Miss Matilda Griffin!" and she flung out of the room, slamming the +door, and leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, as was her +reglar custom, and pour her loves and woas into the buzzom of Miss +Kicksey. + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"HITTING THE NALE ON THE HEDD." + + +The nex morning, down came me and master to Lady Griffinses,--I +amusing myself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying his devours +to the ladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming on her gitter; my +lady was before a great box of papers, busy with accounts, bankers' +books, lawyers' letters, and what not. Law bless us! it's a kind +of bisniss I should like well enuff; especially when my hannual +account was seven or eight thousand on the right side, like my +lady's. My lady in this house kep all these matters to herself. +Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentle to mind business. + +Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in; she pinted +gracefully to a place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace took. +My lady only looked up for a moment, smiled very kindly, and down +went her head among the papers agen, as busy as a B. + +"Lady Griffin has had letters from London," says Miss, "from nasty +lawyers and people. Come here and sit by me, you naughty man you!" + +And down sat master. "Willingly," says he, "my dear Miss Griffin; +why, I declare, it is quits a tete-a-tete." + +"Well," says Miss (after the prillimnary flumries, in coarse), "we +met a friend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace." + +"My father, doubtless; he is a great friend of the ambassador, and +surprised me myself by a visit the night before last." + +"What a dear delightful old man! how he loves you, Mr. Deuceace!" + +"Oh, amazingly!" says master, throwing his i's to heaven. + +"He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you!" + +Master breathed more freely. "He is very good, my dear father; but +blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached to me." + +"He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted that you +were not his eldest son. 'I can but leave him the small portion of +a younger brother,' he said; 'but never mind, he has talents, a +noble name, and an independence of his own.'" + +"An independence? yes, oh yes; I am quite independent of my +father." + +"Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother; the very +same you told us you know." + +"Neither more nor less," says master, bobbing his head; a +sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin,--to a man of my moderate habits +an ample provision." + +"By-the-by," cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the conversation, +"you who are talking about money matters there, I wish you would +come to the aid of poor ME! Come, naughty boy, and help me out +with this long long sum." + +DIDN'T HE GO--that's all! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt +across the room, and seated himself by my lady! + +"Look!" said she, "my agents write me over that they have received +a remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. a rupee. Do tell me what +the sum is, in pounds and shillings;" which master did with great +gravity. + +"Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good; I daresay you are right. +I'm sure I can't go through the fatigue to see. And now comes +another question. Whose money is this, mine or Matilda's? You see +it is the interest of a sum in India, which we have not had +occasion to touch; and, according to the terms of poor Sir George's +will, I really don't know how to dispose of the money except to +spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it?" + +"La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business yourself." + +"Well, then, Algernon, YOU tell me;" and she laid her hand on his +and looked him most pathetickly in the face. + +"Why," says he, "I don't know how Sir George left his money; you +must let me see his will, first." + +"Oh, willingly." + +Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns; +he was obliged to HOLD HIMSELF DOWN. + +"Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir George's +own manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not employ lawyers much, +and this was written on the night before going into action." And +she read, "'I, George Griffin,' &c. &c.--you know how these things +begin--'being now of sane mind'--um, um, um,--'leave to my friends, +Thomas Abraham Hicks, a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, +and to John Monro Mackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, +Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, at Calcutta), the whole of my property, +to be realized as speedily as they may (consistently with the +interests of the property), in trust for my wife, Leonora Emilia +Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only legitimate child, Matilda +Griffin. The interest resulting from such property to be paid to +them, share and share alike; the principal to remain untouched, in +the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. Mackirkincroft, until +the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, when it shall be paid +to my daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors, or assigns.'" + +"There," said my lady, "we won't read any more; all the rest is +stuff. But now you know the whole business, tell us what is to be +done with the money?" + +"Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided between you." + +"Tant mieux, say I; I really thought it had been all Matilda's." + + . . . . . . + +There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been read. +Master left the desk at which he had been seated with her ladyship, +paced up and down the room for a while, and then came round to the +place where Miss Matilda was seated. At last he said, in a low, +trembling voice,-- + +"I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have read that +will to me; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear, +mercenary, when the object of it is so greatly favored by worldly +fortune. Miss Griffin--Matilda! I know I may say the word; your +dear eyes grant me the permission. I need not tell you, or you, +dear mother-in-law, how long, how fondly, I have adored you. My +tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will not affect to say I have not +read your heart ere this, and that I have not known the preference +with which you have honored me. SPEAK IT, dear girl! from your own +sweet lips: in the presence of an affectionate parent, utter the +sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. Matilda, dearest +Matilda! say, oh say, that you love me!" + +Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell on +master's neck, whispering hodibly, "I DO!" + +My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth grinding, +her i's glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock white; for +all the world like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of "Mydear" (when +she's goin to mudder her childring, you recklect); and out she +flounced from the room, without a word, knocking down poar me, who +happened to be very near the dor, and leaving my master along with +his crook-back mistress. + +I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The fact is, +I got it in a ruff copy; only on the copy it's wrote, "Lady +Griffin, Leonora!" instead of "Miss Griffin, Matilda," as in the +abuff, and so on. + +Master had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thought: +but his adventors an't over yet. + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE GRIFFIN'S CLAWS. + + +Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time: thanx to +luck--the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the GOOLD NOBB, +which was the part Deuceace most valued, as well he should; being a +connyshure as to the relletiff valyou of pretious metals, and much +preferring virging goold like this to poor old battered iron like +my Lady Griffin. + +And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. Deuceace +now snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him +Justas, had never stood much in his way), and in spite of his +povatty, idleness, extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all +kinds (which an't GENERALLY very favorable to a young man who has +to make his way in the world); in spite of all, there he was, I +say, at the topp of the trea, the fewcher master of a perfect +fortun, the defianced husband of a fool of a wife. What can +mortial man want more? Vishns of ambishn now occupied his soal. +Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes always full; hunters at +Melton; a seat in the house of Commins: heaven knows what! and not +a poar footman, who only describes what he's seen, and can't, in +cors, pennytrate into the idears and the busms of men. + +You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty thick +now from the Griffinses. Miss was always a-writing them befoar; +and now, nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and sopper, in +they came, till my pantry (for master never read 'em, and I carried +'em out) was puffickly intolrabble from the odor of musk, ambygrease, +bargymot, and other sense with which they were impregniated. Here's +the contense of three on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty +years as skeewriosities. Faw! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as +I am copying them down. + + +BILLY DOO. No. I. + +"Monday morning, 2 o'clock. + +"'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber, and +falls upon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing these +words to thee, my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my soul's +lord! when shall the time come when the tedious night shall not +separate us, nor the blessed day? Twelve! one! two! I have heard +the bells chime, and the quarters, and never cease to think of my +husband. My adored Percy, pardon the girlish confession,--I have +kissed the letter at this place. Will thy lips press it too, and +remain for a moment on the spot which has been equally saluted by +your + +"MATILDA?" + + +This was the FUST letter, and was brot to our house by one of the +poar footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning. I +thot it was for life and death, and woak master at that extraornary +hour, and gave it to him. I shall never forgit him, when he red +it; he cramped it up, and he cust and swoar, applying to the lady +who roat, the genlmn that brought it, and me who introjuiced it to +his notice such a collection of epitafs as I seldum hered, excep at +Billinxgit. The fact is thiss; for a fust letter, miss's noat was +RATHER too strong and sentymentle. But that was her way; she was +always reading melancholy stoary books--"Thaduse of Wawsaw," the +"Sorrows of MacWhirter," and such like. + +After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them, but handid +them over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be +answered, in order to kip up appearuntses. The next letter is + + +No. II. + +"BELOVED! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one! Lady +Griffin, since your avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your +poor Matilda; has declared that she will admit no one (heigho! not +even you, my Algernon); and has locked herself in her own dressing- +room. I do believe that she is JEALOUS, and fancies that you were +in love with HER! Ha, ha! I could have told her ANOTHER TALE-- +n'est-ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu! A thousand thousand million +kisses! + +"M. G. + +"Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock." + + +There was another letter kem before bedtime; for though me and +master called at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter at no +price. Mortimer and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to say +we were going to be relations; but I don't spose master was very +sorry when he was obleached to come back without seeing the fare +objict of his affeckshns. + +Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game; ditto on Wensday; only, +when we called there, who should we see but our father, Lord Crabs, +who was waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying HE SHOULD BE +BACK TO DINNER AT 7, just as me and master came up the stares. +There was no admittns for us though. "Bah! bah! never mind," says +my lord, taking his son affeckshnately by the hand. "What, two +strings to your bow; ay, Algernon? The dowager a little jealous, +miss a little lovesick. But my lady's fit of anger will vanish, +and I promise you, my boy, that you shall see your fair one to- +morrow." + +And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking at him as +tender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as posbill. +Master did not know what to think of it. He never new what game +his old father was at; only he somehow felt that he had got his +head in a net, in spite of his suxess on Sunday. I knew it--I knew +it quite well, as soon as I saw the old genlmn igsammin him by a +kind of smile which came over his old face, and was somethink +betwigst the angellic and the direbollicle. + +But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every thing was +bright again. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath +of witch I here copy:-- + + +No. IX. + +"Thursday morning. + +"Victoria, Victoria! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to +our union, but her consent to receive you as before; and has +promised to forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever think +of you as anything but the lover of your Matilda? I am in a whirl +of delicious joy and passionate excitement. I have been awake all +this long night, thinking of thee, my Algernon, and longing for the +blissful hour of meeting. + +"Come! M. G." + + +This is the inclosier from my lady:-- + + +"I will not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply +shock me. I had been foolish enough to think of other plans, and +to fancy your heart (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere than on +one at whose foibles you have often laughed with me, and whose +person at least cannot have charmed you. + +"My step-daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least going +through the ceremony of asking my consent; I cannot, as yet, give +it. Have I not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in +trusting herself to you? + +"But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house +all those who may be agreeable to her,--certainly you, who are +likely to be one day so nearly connected with her. If I have +honest reason to believe that your love for Miss Griffin is +sincere; if I find in a few months that you yourself are still +desirous to marry her, I can, of course, place no further obstacles +in your way. + +"You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise +to receive you as I did of old; you would despise me if I did. I +can promise, however, to think no more of all that has passed +between us, and yield up my own happiness for that of the daughter +of my dear husband. + +"L. E. G." + + +Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and +natral from a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated most +scuvvily? Master thought so, and went and made a tender, respeckful +speach to Lady Griffin (a little flumry costs nothink). Grave and +sorroflle he kist her hand, and, speakin in a very low adgitayted +voice, calld Hevn to witness how he deplord that his conduct should +ever have given rise to such an unfornt ideer; but if he might offer +her esteem, respect, the warmest and tenderest admiration, he +trusted she would accept the same, and a deal moar flumry of the +kind, with dark, sollum glansis of the eyes, and plenty of white +pockit-hankercher. + +He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool! he was in a net--sich a +net as I never yet see set to ketch a roag in. + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE JEWEL. + + +The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my +last, who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming +it so very strong, now came back to his old place by the side of +Lady Griffin: there was no love now, though, betwigst him and +master, although the shevallier had got his lady back agin; +Deuceace being compleatly devoted to his crookid Veanus. + +The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt creature; +and I shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the +heart to do harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a +tremendious tiger and fire-eater as my master. But I see putty +well, after a week, from his manner of going on--of speakin at +master, and lookin at him, and olding his lips tight when Deuceace +came into the room, and glaring at him with his i's, that he hated +the Honrabble Algernon Percy. + +Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him: hated him +wuss than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in- +law. Praps you phansy that the letter you have juss red was +honest; praps you amadgin that the sean of the reading of the will +came on by mere chans, and in the reglar cors of suckmstansies: it +was all a GAME, I tell you--a reglar trap; and that extrodnar +clever young man, my master, as neatly put his foot into it, as +ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve. + +The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off +the feald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender +than befor. Por fellow, por fellow! he really loved this woman. +He might as well have foln in love with a bore-constructor! He was +so blinded and beat by the power wich she had got over him, that if +she told him black was white he'd beleave it, or if she ordered him +to commit murder, he'd do it: she wanted something very like it, I +can tell you. + +I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, +master used to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. +The little creature had a thowsnd of these; and being small, and a +Frenchman, master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humored +kind of contemp which a good Brittn ot always to show. He rayther +treated him like an intelligent munky than a man, and ordered him +about as if he'd bean my lady's footman. + +All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl +betwigst master and Lady Griffin; when that lady took care to turn +the tables. Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've +heard the servants say), she used to laff at shevalliay for his +obeajance and sivillatty to master. For her part, she wondered how +a man of his birth could act a servnt: how any man could submit to +such contemsheous behavior from another; and then she told him how +Deuceace was always snearing at him behind his back; how, in fact, +he ought to hate him corjaly, and how it was suttaly time to show +his sperrit. + +Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was +angry or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. +There got to be frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words +flung at each other across the dinner-table; dispewts about handing +ladies their smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge; or +going in and out of a roam fust, or any such nonsince. + +"For hevn's sake," I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these +tiffs, say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, "do, do be +calm, Mr. Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to forgive +him. You are, both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this +family, that for its peace as well as your own, you should forbear +to quarrel." + +It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, +and it ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never +forgit poar little De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady said "both of +you." He stair'd at my lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd +wild, and then, going round to master, shook his hand as if he +would have wrung it off. Mr. Deuceace only bow'd and grin'd, and +turned away quite stately; Miss heaved a loud O from her busm, and +looked up in his face with an igspreshn jest as if she could have +eat him up with love; and the little shevalliay sate down to his +soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest if he wasn't crying! +He thought the widdow had made her declyration, and would have him; +and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time mighty +bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking with Miss. + +Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might +have done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her +marrying anybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this +confision which she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the +French shevaleer. + +And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, +that when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag: you find him out +at onst when he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his +cloven foot the very instnt you tread on it. At least, this is +what YOUNG roags do; it requires very cool blood and long practis +to get over this pint, and not to show your pashn when you feel it +and snarl when you are angry. Old Crabs wouldn't do it; being like +another noblemin, of whom I heard the Duke of Wellington say, while +waiting behind his graci's chair, that if you were kicking him from +behind, no one standing before him would know it, from the bewtifle +smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't got so far in +the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. And it's +also to be remarked (a very profownd observatin for a footmin, but +we have i's though we DO wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked, +I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angry than +another, because honest men yield to other people, roags never do; +honest men love other people, roags only themselves; and the +slightest thing which comes in the way of thir beloved objects sets +them fewrious. Master hadn't led a life of gambling, swindling, +and every kind of debotch to be good-tempered at the end of it, I +prommis you. + +He was in a pashun, and when he WAS in a pashn, a more insalent, +insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. + +This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him; for I +must tell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set +master and the shevalliay by the years, she had suxeaded only so +far as to make them hate each profowndly: but somehow or other, the +2 cox wouldn't FIGHT. + +I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of her +ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls which +daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to +come from her; on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker +between them, as I've just shown in the tiff which took place at +the door of the Sally Mangy. Besides, the 2 young men, though +reddy enough to snarl, were natrally unwilling to come to bloes. +I'll tell you why: being friends, and idle, they spent their +mornins as young fashnabbles genrally do, at billiads, fensing, +riding, pistle-shooting, or some such improoving study. In +billiads, master beat the Frenchman hollow (and had won a pretious +sight of money from him: but that's neither here nor there, or, as +the French say, ontry noo); at pistle-shooting, master could knock +down eight immidges out of ten, and De l'Orge seven; and in +fensing, the Frenchman could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry +one of his weskit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than +onst, for every Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd +to do so in the cors of his bisniss; and knowing each other's +curridg, as well as the fact that either could put a hundrid bolls +running into a hat at 30 yards, they wairnt very willing to try +such exparrymence upon their own hats with their own heads in them. +So you see they kep quiet, and only grould at each other. + +But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers; and +when in this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said that +he walked away from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in +his sudden bust of joyfle good-humor; and who, I do bleave, would +have hugd a she-bear, so very happy was he. Master walked away +from him pale and hotty, and, taking his seat at table, no moor +mindid the brandishments of Miss Griffin, but only replied to them +with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us servnts, or abuse of the soop, +or the wine; cussing and swearing like a trooper, and not like a +well-bred son of a noble British peer. + +"Will your ladyship," says he, slivering off the wing of a pully +ally bashymall, "allow me to help you?" + +"I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge." And +towards that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating +smile. + +"Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de +l'Orge's carving. You used to like mine once." + +"You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will +partake of something a little simpler." + +The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the +gravy. A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and +myandrewed down his shert-collar and virging-white weskit. + +"Confound you!" says he, "M. de l'Orge, you have done this on +purpose." And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler +of wine, a deal of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked +fritened and ready to cry. + +My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the +best joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. +"Pardong," says he; "meal pardong, mong share munseer."* And he +looked as if he would have done it again for a penny. + + +* In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to change the +peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush. + + +The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of +a suddn at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned +against his rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my +lady in English to take a glass of wine. + +"Veal you," says he, in his jargin, "take a glas of Madere viz me, +mi ladi?" And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English +manner and pronunciation. + +"With the greatest pleasure," says Lady G., most graciously nodding +at him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused +master before, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer. + +Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, making +himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; +and my lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, +doing every think to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. +Desert came: and by this time, Miss was stock-still with fright, +the chevaleer half tipsy with pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my +lady puffickly raygent with smiles and master bloo with rage. + +"Mr. Deuceace," says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a +little chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), +"may I trouble you for a few of those grapes? they look delicious." + +For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it +sliding down the table to De l'Orge; upsetting, in his way, fruit- +plates, glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what. + +"Monsieur de l'Orge," says he, shouting out at the top of his +voice, "have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted MY +grapes long ago, and has found out they are sour!" + + . . . . . . + +There was a dead paws of a moment or so. + + . . . . . . + +"Ah!" says my lady, "vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans ma +propre maison--c'est par trop fort, monsieur." And up she got, and +flung out of the room. Miss followed her, screeching out, "Mamma-- +for God's sake--Lady Griffin!" and here the door slammed on the +pair. + +Her ladyship did very well to speak French. DE L'ORGE WOULD NOT +HAVE UNDERSTOOD HER ELSE; as it was he heard quite enough; and as +the door clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer +and Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master, +and hits him a slap on the face, and says, "prends ca, menteur et +lache!" which means, "Take that, you liar and coward!"--rayther +strong igspreshns for one genlmn to use to another. + +Master staggered back and looked bewildered; and then he gave a +kind of a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then +me and Mortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence +embraced the shevalliay. + +"A demain!" says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away, +not very sorry to git off. + +When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master: who swallowed +a goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pullout his pus, +he presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. +"I will give you five more to-morrow," says he, "if you will +promise to keep this secrit." + +And then he walked in to the ladies. "If you knew," says he, going +up to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at +the keyhole), "the pain I have endured in the last minute, in +consequence of the rudeness and insolence of which I have been +guilty to your ladyship, you would think my own remorse was +punishment sufficient, and would grant me pardon." + +My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. +Deuceace was her daughter's guest, and not hers; but she certainly +would never demean herself by sitting again at table with him. And +so saying out she boltid again. + +"Oh! Algernon! Algernon!" says Miss, in teers, "what is this +dreadful mystery--these fearful shocking quarrels? Tell me, has +anything happened? Where, where is the chevalier?" + +Master smiled and said, "Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. +De l'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute; he was too much +in love for that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe; +and will return to coffee." + +I knew what master's game was, for if miss had got a hinkling of +the quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her +screeming at the "Hotel Mirabeu," and the juice and all to pay. He +only stopt for a few minnits and cumfitted her, and then drove off +to his friend, Captain Bullseye, of the Rifles; with whom, I spose, +he talked over this unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a +note from De l'Orge, saying where his secknd was to be seen. + +Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's +Messinger, which I hear beg leaf to transcribe:-- + + +"FEARFUL DUEL.--Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took +place, in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D--ce-ce, a +younger son of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de l'O---. The +chevalier was attended by Major de M---, of the Royal Guard, and +the Hon. Mr. D--- by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. +As far as we have been able to learn the particulars of this +deplorable affair, the dispute originated in the house of a lovely +lady (one of the most brilliant ornaments of our embassy), and the +duel took place on the morning ensuing. + +"The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished +amateur swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the +weapons, and the combat took place with pistols. + +"The combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to +advance to a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each +was furnished with two pistols. Monsieur de l'O--- fired almost +immediately, and the ball took effect in the left wrist of his +antagonist, who dropped the pistol which he held in that hand. He +fired, however, directly with his right, and the chevalier fell to +the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A ball has entered above his +hip-joint, and there is very little hope that he can recover. + +"We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow +which the chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, +there is some reason for the unusual and determined manner in which +the duel was fought. + +"Mr. Deu--a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, +the Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of +the sad news, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate +parental attention. The news only reached his lordship yesterday +at noon, while at breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our +ambassador. The noble earl fainted on receiving the intelligence; +but in spite of the shock to his own nerves and health, persisted +in passing last night by the couch of his son." + + +And so he did. "This is a sad business, Charles," says my lord to +me, after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. +"Have you any segars in the house? And hark ye, send me up a +bottle of wine and some luncheon. I can certainly not leave the +neighborhood of my dear boy." + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE CONSQUINSIES. + + +The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own +accord, in the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which was +brot on by the wound. He was kept in bed for 6 weeks though, and +did not recover for a long time after. + +As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of his +advisary. Inflammation came on too; and, to make an ugly story +short, they were obliged to take off his hand at the rist. + +He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was well, +and his wound heel'd; but I never see a man look so like a devvle +as he used sometimes, when he looked down at the stump! + +To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd him the mor. +She sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her +beloved, her unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. +I've kep some of the noats, as I tell you, and curiously +sentimentle they are, beating the sorrows of MacWhirter all to +nothing. + +Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and +seagars at our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there was +an exycution in his own house in England; and his son was a sure +find (as they say) during his illness, and couldn't deny himself to +the old genlmn. His eveninx my lord spent reglar at Lady Griffin's; +where, as master was ill, I didn't go any more now, and where the +shevalier wasn't there to disturb him. + +"You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace," says my lord, one +day, in a fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady +Griffin: "SHE HAS NOT DONE WITH YOU YET, I tell you fairly." + +"Curse her," says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm-- +"curse her! but I will be even with her one day. I am sure of +Matilda: I took care to put that beyond the reach of a failure. +The girl must marry me, for her own sake." + +"FOR HER OWN SAKE! O ho! Good, good!" My lord lifted his i's, +and said gravely, "I understand, my dear boy: it is an excellent +plan." + +"Well," says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his exlent +old father, "as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from the +fiend of a step-mother?" + +My lord only gev a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up his +hat, walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Vandome, and go +in quite calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless +his old face! such a puffickly good-natured, kind-hearted, merry, +selfish old scoundrel, I never shall see again. + +His lordship was quite right in saying to master that "Lady Griffin +hadn't done with him." No moar she had. But she never would have +thought of the nex game she was going to play, IF SOMEBODY HADN'T +PUT HER UP TO IT. Who did? If you red the above passidge, and saw +how a venrabble old genlmn took his hat, and sauntered down the +Plas Vandome (looking hard and kind at all the nussary-maids--buns +they call them in France--in the way), I leave you to guess who was +the author of the nex scheam: a woman, suttnly, never would have +pitcht on it. + +In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuceace's adventers, +and his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkins and Blewitt, I had the +honor of laying before the public a skidewl of my master's detts, in +witch was the following itim: + + + "Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s, 4963L. 0s. 0d." + + +The I.O.U.se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills +amountid to four thowsnd moar. + +Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in England, +and a French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew the +Englishman who has drawn them, even though he should be in France. +Master did not know this fact--laboring under a very common mistak, +that, when onst out of England, he might wissle at all the debts he +left behind him. + +My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who made +arrangemints with the persons who possest the fine collection of +ortografs on stampt paper which master had left behind him; and +they were glad enuff to take any oppertunity of getting back their +money. + +One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard of our +hotel, talking to the servant-gals, as was my reglar custom, in +order to improve myself in the French languidge, one of them comes +up to me and says, "Tenez, Monsieur Charles, down below in the +office there is a bailiff, with a couple of gendarmes, who is +asking for your master--a-t-il des dettes par hasard?" + +I was struck all of a heap--the truth flasht on my mind's hi. +"Toinette," says I, for that was the gal's name--"Toinette," says +I, giving her a kiss, "keep them for two minits, as you valyou my +affeckshn;" and then I gave her another kiss, and ran up stares to +our chambers. Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound, +and was aloud to drive abowt: it was lucky for him that he had the +strength to move. "Sir, sir," says I, "the bailiffs are after you, +and you must run for your life." + +"Bailiff?" says he: "nonsense! I don't, thank heaven, owe a +shilling to any man." + +"Stuff, sir," says I, forgetting my respeck; "don't you owe money +in England? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will be on you +in a moment." + +As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the antyshamber, +and there they were sure enough! + +What was to be done? Quick as litening, I throws off my livry +coat, claps my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put +on my livry. Then I wraps myself up in his dressing-gown, and +lolling down on the sofa, bids him open the dor. + +There they were--the bailiff--two jondarms with him--Toinette, and +an old waiter. When Toinette sees master, she smiles, and says: +"Dis donc, Charles! ou est donc ton maitre? Chez lui, n'est-ce +pas? C'est le jeune a monsieur," says she, curtsying to the +bailiff. + +The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, "Mais ce n'est pas!" +when Toinette stops him, and says, "Laissez donc passer ces +messieurs, vieux bete;" and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking +their post in the hall. + +Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and touching MY +hat says, "Have you any orders about the cab, sir?" + +"Why, no, Chawls," says I; "I shan't drive out to-day." + +The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having had +plenty of English customers), and says in French, as master goes +out, "I think, sir, you had better let your servant get a coach, +for I am under the painful necessity of arresting you, au nom de la +loi, for the sum of ninety-eight thousand seven hundred francs, +owed by you to the Sieur Jacques Francois Lebrun, of Paris;" and he +pulls out a number of bills, with master's acceptances on them sure +enough. + +"Take a chair, sir," says I; and down he sits; and I began to chaff +him, as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, my sad +axdent, having lost one of my hands, which was stuck into my busum, +and so on. + +At last, after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and bust +out in a horse laff. + +The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect somethink. +"Hola!" says he; "gendarmes! a moi! a moi! Je suis floue, vole," +which means, in English, that he was reglar sold. + +The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and the +waiter. Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand from my +dressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck up on the chair one of +the neatest legs ever seen. + +I then pinted majestickly--to what do you think?--to my PLUSH +TITES! those sellabrated inigspressables which have rendered me +famous in Yourope. + +Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts rord out laffing; +and so did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old +Grippard the bailiff looked as if he would faint in his chare. + +I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel-gate, and knew +then that my master was safe. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE END OF MR. DEUCEACE'S HISTORY. LIMBO. + + +My tail is droring rabidly to a close; my suvvice with Mr. Deuceace +didn't continyou very long after the last chapter, in which I +described my admiral strattyjam, and my singlar self-devocean. +There's very few servnts, I can tell you, who'd have thought of +such a contrivance, and very few moar would have eggsycuted it when +thought of. + +But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in selling +master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may remember I +woar, and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets,-- +beyond this, I say, there was to poar master very little advantich +in what had been done. It's true he had escaped. Very good. But +Frans is not like Great Brittin; a man in a livry coat, with 1 arm, +is pretty easily known, and caught, too, as I can tell you. + +Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moarover, if +he would. What was to become, in that case, of his bride--his +unchbacked hairis? He knew that young lady's temprimong (as the +Parishers say) too well to let her long out of his site. She had +nine thousand a yer. She'd been in love a duzn times befor, and +mite be agin. The Honrabble Algernon Deuceace was a little too +wide awake to trust much to the constnsy of so very inflammable a +young creacher. Heavn bless us, it was a marycle she wasn't +earlier married! I do bleave (from suttn seans that past betwigst +us) that she'd have married me, if she hadn't been sejuiced by the +supearor rank and indianuity of the genlmn in whose survace I was. + +Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. How was +he to manitch? He coodn get away from his debts, and he wooden +quit the fare objict of his affeckshns. He was ableejd, then, as +the French say, to lie perdew,--going out at night, like a howl out +of a hivy-bush, and returning in the daytime to his roast. For its +a maxum in France (and I wood it were followed in Ingland), that +after dark no man is lible for his detts; and in any of the royal +gardens--the Twillaries, the Pally Roil, or the Lucksimbug, for +example--a man may wander from sunrise to evening, and hear nothing +of the ojus dunns: they an't admitted into these places of public +enjyment and rondyvoo any more than dogs; the centuries at the +garden-gates having orders to shuit all such. + +Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation--neither liking to +go nor to stay! peeping out at nights to have an interview with his +miss; ableagd to shuffle off her repeated questions as to the +reason of all this disgeise, and to talk of his two thowsnd a year +jest as if he had it and didn't owe a shilling in the world. + +Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch. + +He roat as many noats as she had done befor; swoar against delay +and cerymony; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, the ardship that +the ardor of two arts should be allowed to igspire, the folly of +waiting for the consent of Lady Griffin. She was but a step- +mother, and an unkind one. Miss was (he said) a major, might marry +whom she liked; and suttnly had paid Lady G. quite as much +attention as she ought, by paying her the compliment to ask her at +all. + +And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when master was +pressed about his cause for not coming out till night-time, he was +misterus; and Miss Griffin, when asked why she wooden marry, +igsprest, or rather, DIDN'T igspress, a simlar secrasy. Wasn't it +hard? the cup seemed to be at the lip of both of 'em, and yet +somehow, they could not manitch to take a drink. + +But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote by my +master over night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer from his +soal's beluffd, which ran thus:-- + + +MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. + +"DEAREST,--You say you would share a cottage with me; there is no +need, luckily, for that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits +at our delayed union. Beloved, do you think MY heart rejoices at +our separation? You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady Griffin, +and tell me that I owe her no further duty. + +"Adored Algernon! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to +lose a single chance of reconciliation with this unnatural step- +mother. Respect for the memory of my sainted father bid me do all +in my power to gain her consent to my union with you: nay, shall I +own it? prudence dictated the measure; for to whom should she leave +the share of money accorded to her by my father's will but to my +father's child. + +"But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go; and, +thank heaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid +wealth: we have a competency without her. Is it not so, dearest +Algernon? + +"Be it as you wish, then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor +Matilda has yielded to you her heart long ago; she has no longer +need to keep back her name. Name the hour, and I will delay no +more; but seek for refuge in your arms from the contumely and +insult which meet me ever here. + +"MATILDA. + +"P.S. Oh, Algernon! if you did but know what a noble part your +dear father has acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to +further our plans, and to soften Lady Griffin! It is not his fault +that she is inexorable as she is. I send you a note sent by her to +Lord Crabs; we will laugh at it soon, n'est-ce pas? + +II. + +"MY LORD,--In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in +favor of your son, Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat what I +before have been under the necessity of stating to you,--that I do +not believe a union with a person of Mr. Deuceace's character would +conduce to my stepdaughter's happiness, and therefore REFUSE MY +CONSENT. I will beg you to communicate the contents of this note +to Mr. Deuceace; and implore you no more to touch upon a subject +which you must be aware is deeply painful to me. + +"I remain your lordship's most humble servant, + +"L. E. GRIFFIN. + +"THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF CRABS." + + +"Hang her ladyship!" says my master, "what care I for it?" As for +the old lord who'd been so afishous in his kindness and advice, +master recknsiled that pretty well, with thinking that his lordship +knew he was going to marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to +get some share of it; for he roat back the following letter to his +father, as well as a flaming one to Miss: + + +"Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awkward +business. You know how painfully I am situated just now, and can +pretty well guess BOTH THE CAUSES of my disquiet. A marriage with +my beloved Matilda will make me the happiest of men. The dear girl +consents, and laughs at the foolish pretensions of her mother-in- +law. To tell you the truth, I wonder she yielded to them so long. +Carry your kindness a step further, and find for us a parson, a +license, and make us two into one. We are both major, you know; so +that the ceremony of a guardian's consent is unnecessary. + +"Your affectionate + +"ALGERNON DEUCEACE. + +"How I regret that difference between us some time back! Matters +are changed now, and shall be more still AFTER THE MARRIAGE." + + +I knew what my master meant,--that he would give the old lord the +money after he was married; and as it was probble that miss would +see the letter he roat, he made it such as not to let her see two +clearly into his present uncomfrable situation. + +I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, reading both +of 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, gave an +inegspressable look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, and +prest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then +they fell a-talking together; and told me to wait awhile, and I +should git an anser. + +After a deal of counseltation, my lord brought out a card, and +there was simply written on it, + + + To-morrow, at the Ambassador's, at Twelve. + + +"Carry that back to your master, Chawls," says he, "and bid him not +to fail." + +You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave him the +card and the messinge. Master looked sattasfied with both; but +suttnly not over happy; no man is the day before his marridge; much +more his marridge with a hump-back, Harriss though she be. + +Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did what +every man in such suckmstances ought to do; he made his will,--that +is, he made a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to his +creditors telling them of his lucky chance; and that after his +marridge he would sutnly pay them every stiver. BEFORE, they must +know his povvaty well enough to be sure that paymint was out of the +question. + +To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing that was +right, now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenients to do so. + +"Chawls," says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, "here's your +wagis, and thank you for getting me out of the scrape with the +bailiffs: when you are married, you shall be my valet out of +liv'ry, and I'll treble your salary." + +His vallit! praps his butler! Yes, thought I, here's a chance--a +vallit to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave him, and +read his notes, and let my whiskers grow; to dress in spick and +span black, and a clean shut per day; muffings every night in the +housekeeper's room; the pick of the gals in the servants' hall; a +chap to clean my boots for me, and my master's opera bone reglar +once a week. I knew what a vallit was as well as any genlmn in +service; and this I can tell you, he's genrally a hapier, idler, +handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his master. He has more money to +spend, for genlmn WILL leave their silver in their waistcoat +pockets; more suxess among the gals; as good dinners, and as good +wine--that is, if he's friends with the butler: and friends in +corse they will be if they know which way their interest lies. + +But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call shutter +d'Espang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr. +Deuceace's vallit. + +Days will pass at last--even days befor a wedding, (the longist and +unpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you, +excep, may be, the day before his hanging); and at length Aroarer +dawned on the suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds of +Hyming the Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss +Matilda Griffin. My master's wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had +been; for he'd left the whole of his nicknax and trumpry of +dressing-cases and rob dy shams, his bewtifle museum of varnished +boots, his curous colleckshn of Stulz and Staub coats, when he had +been ableaged to quit so suddnly our pore dear lodginx at the Hotel +Mirabew; and being incog at a friend's house, ad contentid himself +with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a common tailor, +with a suffishnt quantaty of linning. + +Well, he put on the best of his coats--a blue; and I thought it my +duty to ask him whether he'd want his frock again: he was good +natured and said, "Take it and be hanged to you." Half-past eleven +o'clock came, and I was sent to look out at the door, if there were +any suspicious charicters (a precious good nose I have to find a +bailiff out, I can tell you, and an i which will almost see one +round a corner); and presenly a very modest green glass coach +droave up, and in master stept. I didn't in corse, appear on the +box; because, being known, my appearints might have compromised +master. But I took a short cut, and walked as quick as posbil down +to the Rue de Foburg St. Honore, where his exlnsy the English +ambasdor lives, and where marridges are always performed betwigst +English folk at Paris. + + . . . . . . + +There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel, +of that lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine-houses; +and jest as master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach +drove off, out of which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well,-- +suffiz, that one had a humpback, and the ingenious reader will know +why SHE came there; the other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came to +see her turned off. + +Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few +yards of the door; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down +gits coachmin to open the door, and comes I to give Mr. Deuceace an +arm, when out of the cabaray shoot four fellows, and draw up +betwigst the coach and embassy-doar; two other chaps go to the +other doar of the carridge, and, opening it, one says--"Rendez- +vous, M. Deuceace! Je vous arrete au nom de la loi!" (which means, +"Get out of that, Mr. D.; you are nabbed and no mistake.") Master +turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side of the coach, as +if a serpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and was for +making off that way; but he saw the four chaps standing betwigst +libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and screams out, +"Fouettez, cocher!" (which means, "Go it, coachmm!" in a despert +loud voice; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. + +The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to the +door two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all; I knew +my duty, and so very mornfly I got up behind. + +"Tiens," says one of the chaps in the street; "c'est ce drole qui +nous a floure l'autre jour." I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly to +smile. + +"Ou irons-nous donc?" says coachmin to the genlmn who had got +inside. + +A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the +coachmin, "A SAINTE PELAGIE!" + + . . . . . . + +And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the prizn of +Sainte Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or Queen's Bentch: +but on this subject I'm rather shy of writing, partly because the +admiral Boz has, in the history of Mr. Pickwick, made such a +dixcripshun of a prizn, that mine wooden read very amyousingly +afterwids; and, also, because, to tell you the truth, I didn't stay +long in it, being not in a humer to waist my igsistance by passing +away the ears of my youth in such a dull place. + +My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat from +master to his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken +aback, as I can tell you, when she found, after remaining two hours +at the Embassy, that her husband didn't make his appearance. And +so, after staying on and on, and yet seeing no husband, she was +forsed at last to trudge dishconslit home, where I was already +waiting for her with a letter from my master. + +There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he +confest it at onst: but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery +of a friend, infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. However, it +didn't matter much; if he had told her that he had been betrayed by +the man in the moon, she would have bleavd him. + +Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She kep +one drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another; they +quarld so much that praps it was best they should live apart; only +my Lord Crabs used to see both, comforting each with that winning +and innsnt way he had. He came in as Miss, in tears, was lisning +to my account of master's seazure, and hoping that the prisn wasn't +a horrid place, with a nasty horrid dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, +and nasty horrid bread and water. Law bless us! she had borrod her +ideers from the novvles she had been reading! + +"O my lord, my lord," says she, "have you heard this fatal story?" + +"Dearest Matilda, what? For heaven's sake, you alarm me! What-- +yes--no--is it--no, it can't be! Speak!" says my lord, seizing me +by the choler of my coat. "What has happened to my boy?" + +"Please you, my lord," says I, "he's at this moment in prisn, no +wuss,--having been incarserated about two hours ago." + +"In prison! Algernon in prison! 'tis impossible! Imprisoned, for +what sum? Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing in my +power." + +"I'm sure your lordship is very kind," says I (recklecting the sean +betwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a +thowsand lb.); "and you'll he happy to hear he's only in for a +trifle. Five thousand pound is, I think, pretty near the mark." + +"Five thousand pounds!--confusion!" says my lord, clasping his +hands, and looking up to heaven, "and I have not five hundred! +Dearest Matilda, how shall we help him?" + +"Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know how Lady +Griffin has the--" + +"Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say; but be of good +cheer--Algernon, you know, has ample funds of his own." + +Thinking my lord meant Dawkins's five thousand, of which, to be +sure, a good lump was left, I held my tung; but I cooden help +wondering at Lord Crabs's igstream compashn for his son, and Miss, +with her 10,000L. a year, having only 3 guineas is her pockit. + +I took home (bless us, what a home!) a long and very inflamble +letter from Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the +disappointment; swoar she lov'd him only the moar for his +misfortns; made light of them; as a pusson for a paltry sum of five +thousand pound ought never to be cast down, 'specially as he had a +certain independence in view; and vowed that nothing, nothing, +should ever injuice her to part from him, etsettler, etsettler. + +I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst me and my +lord, and of his handsome offers, and his horrow at hearing of his +son's being taken; and likewise mentioned how strange it was that +Miss should only have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn: bless us, I +should have thot that she would always have carried a hundred +thowsnd lb. in her pockit! + +At this master only said Pshaw! But the rest of the story about +his father seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me +repeat it over agin. + +He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new +lite was breaking in upon him. + +"Chawls," says he, "did you observe--did Miss--did my father seem +PARTICULARLY INTIMATE with Miss Griffin?" + +"How do you mean, sir?" says I. + +"Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin?" + +"He was suttnly very kind to her." + +"Come, sir, speak at once: did Miss Griffin seem very fond of his +lordship?" + +"Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed VERY fond of +him." + +"What did he call her?" + +"He called her his dearest gal." + +"Did he take her hand?" + +"Yes, and he--" + +"And he what?" + +"He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about the +misfortn which had hapnd to you." + +"I have it now!" says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashly +pail--"I have it now--the infernal old hoary scoundrel! the wicked, +unnatural wretch! He would take her from me!" And he poured out a +volley of oaves which are impossbill to be repeatid here. + +I thot as much long ago: and when my lord kem with his vizits so +pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such +game was in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a somethink of it from the +Griffinses servnts, that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. + +One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal +capassaties; he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very +small chance of having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, +or his respectid father might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. +Oh! he saw it all now--the fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixt +at 12 o'clock, and the bayliffs fixt to come and intarup the +marridge!--the jewel, praps, betwigst him and De l'Orge: but no, it +was the WOMAN who did that--a MAN don't deal such fowl blows, +igspecially a father to his son: a woman may, poar thing!--she's no +other means of reventch, and is used to fight with underhand wepns +all her life through. + +Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear +that he'd been beat by his father at his own game--a trapp set for +him onst, which had been defitted by my presnts of mind--another +trap set afterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my +lord, roag as he was, was much too good-natured to do an unkind +ackshn, mearly for the sake of doing it. He'd got to that pich +that he didn't mind injaries--they were all fair play to him--he +gave 'em, and reseav'd them, without a thought of mallis. If he +wanted to injer his son, it was to benefick himself. And how was +this to he done? By getting the hairiss to himself, to be sure. +The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so; but I knew his feelinx well +enough--he regretted that he had not given the old genlmn the money +he askt for. + +Poar fello! he thought he had hit it; but he was wide of the mark +after all. + +Well, but what was to be done? It was clear that he must marry the +gal at any rate--cootky coot, as the French say: that is, marry +her, and hang the igspence. + +To do so he must first git out of prisn--to get out of prisn he +must pay his debts--and to pay his debts, he must give every +shilling he was worth. Never mind: four thousand pound is a small +stake to a reglar gambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot +for life in prisn; and when, if he plays it well, it will give him +ten thousand a year. + +So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, and +accordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin:-- + + +"MY ADORED MATILDA,--Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a +poor fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most +blessed in his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it +within a prison wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has +brought these liabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which +has cost me so much. But what matters! We have, as you say, +enough, even though I must pay this shameful demand upon me; and +five thousand pounds are as nothing, compared to the happiness +which I lose in being separated a night from thee! Courage, +however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you; and I were heartless +indeed if I allowed my own losses to balance for a moment against +your happiness. + +"Is it not so, beloved one? IS not your happiness bound up with +mine, in a union with me? I am proud to think so--proud, too, to +offer such a humble proof as this of the depth and purity of my +affection. + +"Tell me that you will still be mine; tell me that you will be mine +tomorrow; and to-morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I +will be free once more--or if bound, only bound to you! My +adorable Matilda! my betrothed bride! Write to me ere the evening +closes, for I shall never be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon +my prison couch, until they have been first blessed by the sight of +a few words from thee! Write to me, love! write to me! I languish +for the reply which is to make or mar me for ever. Your affectionate + +"A. P. D." + + +Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to +carry, and bade me at the same time to try and give it into Miss +Griffin's hand alone. I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I found +Miss, as I desired, in a sollatary condition; and I presented her +with master's pafewmed Billy. + +She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and the +tears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed +until I thought she would bust. She even claspt my hand in her's, +and said, "O Charles! is he very, very miserable?" + +"He is, ma'am," says I; "very miserable indeed--nobody, upon my +honor, could be miserablerer." + +On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at onst: and +sitting down to her eskrewtaw, she immediantly ableaged master with +an answer. Here it is in black and white: + + +"My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in +these arms! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the +same place, at the same hour. Then, then, it will be impossible +for aught but death to divide us. + +"M. G." + + +This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles, and +cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better is +it to be puffickly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to +the writing of the heart. This is MY style: artyfiz I despise, and +trust compleatly to natur: but revnong a no mootong, as our +continential friends remark: to that nice white sheep, Algernon +Percy Deuceace, Exquire; that wenrabble old ram, my Lord Crabs his +father; and that tender and dellygit young lamb, Miss Matilda +Griffin. + +She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the noat +transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, according +to my master's orders, "Miss, if you please, the Honrabble Mr. +Deuceace would be very much ableaged to you to keep the seminary +which is to take place to-morrow a profound se--," when my master's +father entered, and I fell back to the door. Miss, without a word, +rusht into his arms, burst into teers agin, as was her reglar way +(it must be confest she was of a very mist constitution), and +showing to him his son's note, cried, "Look, my dear lord, how +nobly your Algernon, OUR Algernon, writes to me. Who can doubt, +after this, of the purity of his matchless affection?" + +My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused, and +returning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, "My dear +Miss Griffin, he certainly does seem in earnest; and if you choose +to make this match without the consent of your mother-in-law, you +know the consequence, and are of course your own mistress." + +"Consequences!--for shame, my lord! A little money, more or less, +what matters it to two hearts like ours?" + +"Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but Three-per- +Cents are better." + +"Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the aid of +Lady Griffin?" + +My lord shrugged his shoulders. "Be it so, my love," says he. +"I'm sure I can have no other reason to prevent a union which is +founded upon such disinterested affection." + +And here the conversation dropt. Miss retired, clasping her hands, +and making play with the whites of her i's. My lord began trotting +up and down the room, with his fat hands stuck in his britchis +pockits, his countnince lighted up with igstream joy, and singing, +to my inordnit igstonishment: + + + "See the conquering hero comes! + Tiddy diddy doll--tiddy doll, doll, doll." + + +He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room like +mad. I stood amazd--a new light broke in upon me. He wasn't +going, then, to make love to Miss Griffin! Master might marry her! +Had she not got the for--? + +I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands +puppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary thoughts +passing in my mind, when my lord having got to the last "doll" of +his song, just as I came to the sillible "for" of my ventriloquism, +or inward speech--we had eatch jest reached the pint digscribed, +when the meditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the +midst of his singin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar +me, sending me up aginst one end of the room, himself flying back +to the other: and it was only after considrabble agitation that we +were at length restored to anything like a liquilibrium. + +"What, YOU here, you infernal rascal?" says my lord. + +"Your lordship's very kind to notus me," says I; "I am here." And +I gave him a look. + +He saw I knew the whole game. + +And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I bleave +he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be hanged in +five minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and coming up +to me, says: + +"Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-morrow." + +"Must it, sir?" says I; "now, for my part, I don't think--" + +"Stop, my good fellow; if it does not take place, what do you +gain?" + +This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a +situation, for master had but just enough money to pay his detts; +and it wooden soot my book to serve him in prisn or starving. + +"Well," says my lord, "you see the force of my argument. Now, look +here!" and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy HUNDRED-PUN NOTE! +"If my son and Miss Griffin are married to-morrow, you shall have +this; and I will, moreover, take you into my service, and give you +double your present wages." + +Flesh and blood cooden bear it. "My lord," says I, laying my hand +upon my busm, "only give me security, and I'm yours for ever." + +The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. "Right, my +lad," says he, "right--you're a nice promising youth. Here is the +best security." And he pulls out his pockit-book, returns the +hundred-pun bill, and takes out one for fifty. "Here is half to- +day; to-morrow you shall have the remainder." + +My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit of +paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever had +in my life. I cast my i upon the amount: it was a fifty sure +enough--a bank poss-bill, made payable to Leonora Emilia Griffin, +and indorsed by her. The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle +reader, I spose you begin to see the game. + +"Recollect, from this day you are in my service." + +"My lord, you overpoar me with your faviors." + +"Go to the devil, sir," says he: "do your duty, and hold your +tongue." + +And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon +Deuceace to that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs. + + . . . . . . + +On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that oajus +place to which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him; and felt +for him, I must say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle such as he-- +a swindler, who had robbed poar Dawkins of the means of igsistance; +who had cheated his fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt, and who was +making a musnary marridge with a disgusting creacher like Miss +Griffin, didn merit any compashn on my purt; and I determined quite +to keep secret the suckmstansies of my privit intervew with his +exlnsy my presnt master. + +I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a satasfied +air. Then, turning to me, says he: "You gave this to Miss Griffin +alone?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You gave her my message?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you gave +either the message or the note?" + +"Not there upon my honor," says I. + +"Hang your honor, sir! Brush my hat and coat, and go CALL A COACH-- +do you hear?" + + . . . . . . + +I did as I was ordered; and on coming back found master in what's +called, I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in waiting +had out a great register, and was talking to master in the French +tongue, in coarse; a number of poar prisners were looking eagerly +on. + +"Let us see, my lor," says he; "the debt is 98,700 francs; there +are capture expenses, interest so much; and the whole sum amounts +to a hundred thousand francs, moins 13." + +Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocketbook four +thowsnd pun notes. "This is not French money, but I presume that +you know it, M. Greffier," says he. + +The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, who had +one or two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to be there. +"Les billets sont bons," says he. "Je les prendrai pour cent mille +douze cent francs, et j'espere, my lor, de vous revoir." + +"Good," says the greffier; "I know them to be good, and I will give +my lor the difference, and make out his release." + +Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the great +dubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace stept +out and me after him, to breathe the fresh hair. + +He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free again-- +free, and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day. But, for +all that, he lookt very faint and pale. He HAD put down his great +stake; and when he came out of Sainte Pelagie, he had but fifty +pounds left in the world! + +Never mind--when onst the money's down, make your mind easy; and so +Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew, where he ordered +apartmince infinately more splendid than befor; and I pretty soon +told Toinette, and the rest of the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, +and how he valyoud four thousnd pound no more than ditch water. +And such was the consquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I +got for us boath, that the delighted landlady immediantly charged +him dubble what she would have done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. + +He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week; a carridge- +and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely; and having +settled all these things, went quietly to the "Roshy de Cancale," +where he dined: as well he might, for it was now eight o'clock. I +didn't spare the shompang neither that night, I can tell you; for +when I carried the note he gave me for Miss Griffin in the evening, +informing her of his freedom, that young lady remarked my hagitated +manner of walking and speaking, and said, "Honest Charles! he is +flusht with the events of the day. Here, Charles, is a napoleon; +take it and drink to your mistress." + +I pockitid it; but, I must say, I didn't like the money--it went +against my stomick to take it. + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE MARRIAGE. + + +Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was waiting at +the ambasdor's doar; and Miss Griffin and the faithfle Kicksey were +punctial to the apintment. + +I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary--how the embasy +chapling jined the hands of this loving young couple--how one of +the embasy footmin was called in to witness the marridge--how Miss +wep and fainted as usial--and how Deuceace carried her, fainting, +to the brisky, and drove off to Fontingblo, where they were to pass +the fust weak of the honey-moon. They took no servnts, because +they wisht, they said, to be privit. And so, when I had shut up +the steps, and bid the postilion drive on, I bid ajew to the +Honrabble Algernon, and went off strait to his exlent father. + +"Is it all over, Chawls?" said he. + +"I saw them turned off at igsactly a quarter past 12, my lord," +says I. + +"Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before her +marriage?" + +"I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bobtail's man; +who can swear to her having had it." + +I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper which Lady +Griffin had written, and which I was comishnd to give in the manner +menshnd abuff. It ran to this effect:-- + + +"According to the authority given me by the will of my late dear +husband, I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honorable +Algernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union, I +warn her that she must abide by the consequences of her act. + +"LEONORA EMILIA GRIFFIN." + +"RUE DE RIVOLI, May 8, 1818." + + +When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit +before my master's arrivle, she only read it contemptiously, and +said, "I laugh at the threats of Lady Griffin;" and she toar the +paper in two, and walked on, leaning on the arm of the faithful and +obleaging Miss Kicksey. + +I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my lord. +Not that there was any necessaty; for he'd kep a copy, and made me +and another witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) read them both, +before he sent either away. + +"Good!" says he; and he projuiced from his potfolio the fello of +that bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. "I +keep my promise, you see, Charles," says he. "You are now in Lady +Griffin's service, in the place of Mr. Fitzclarence, who retires. +Go to Froje's, and get a livery." + +"But, my lord," says I, "I was not to go into Lady Griffnses +service, according to the bargain, but into--" + +"It's all the same thing," says he; and he walked off. I went to +Mr. Froje's, and ordered a new livry; and found, likwise, that our +coachmin and Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My lady's livery +was changed, and was now of the same color as my old coat at Mr. +Deuceace's; and I'm blest if there wasn't a tremenjious great +earl's corronit on the butins, instid of the Griffin rampint, which +was worn befoar. + +I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured; and slep +that night at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with the carridge +for a day or two, though; my lady only taking one footmin, she +said, until HER NEW CARRIDGE was turned out. + +I think you can guess what's in the wind NOW! + +I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzen lawn +sherts and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary for a +genlmn in my rank. Silk stockings was provided by the rules of the +house. And I completed the bisniss by writing the follying ginteel +letter to my late master:-- + + +"CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE A. P. DEUCEACE. + +"SUR,--Suckmstansies have acurd sins I last had the honner of +wating on you, which render it impossbil that I should remane any +longer in your suvvice. I'll thank you to leave out my thinx, when +they come home on Sattady from the wash. + +"Your obeajnt servnt, + +"CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH." + +"PLAS VENDOME." + + +The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious; but ke +voolyvoo? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the expearance in +writing which I've enjide sins. + +Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in the nex +chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE HONEY-MOON. + + +The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away; and at the end of it, +our son and daughter-in-law--a pare of nice young tuttle-duvs-- +returned to their nest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I suspeck that the +COCK turtle-dove was preshos sick of his barging. + +When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table was a +large parsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a +couple of cards, tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the +parsle was a hansume piece of plum-cake, with a deal of sugar. On +the cards was wrote, in Goffick characters, + + + Earl of Crabs. + + +And, in very small Italian, + + + Countess of Crabs. + + +And in the paper was the following parrowgraff:-- + + +"MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE.--Yesterday, at the British embassy, the +Right Honorable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl of Crabs, +to Leonora Emilia, widow of the late Lieutenant-General Sir George +Griffin, K. C. B. An elegant dejeune was given to the happy couple +by his Excellency Lord Bobtail, who gave away the bride. The elite +of the foreign diplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the +Duke of Dalmatia on behalf of H. M. the King of France, honored the +banquet and the marriage ceremony. Lord and Lady Crabs intend +passing a few weeks at Saint Cloud." + + +The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of which I +have also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace on their +arrivle from Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what +Deuceace said; but I can fancy how he LOOKT, and how poor Mrs. +Deuceace lookt. They weren't much inclined to rest after the +fiteeg of the junny; for, in 1/2 an hour after their arrival at +Paris, the hosses were put to the carridge agen, and down they came +thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud (pronounst by those +absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chaste loves and +delishs marridge injyments. + +My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on a +sofa at an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle; her ladyship, +who, to du her justice, didn mind the smell, occupied another end +of the room, and was working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an +umbrellore case, or a coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You +would have thought to have sean 'em that they had been married a +sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon this conjugal tator-tator, +and said, very much alarmed, "My lord, here's your son and +daughter-in-law." + +"Well," says my lord, quite calm, "and what then?" + +"Mr. Deuceace!" says my lady, starting up, and looking fritened. + +"Yes, my love, my son; but you need not be alarmed. Pray, Charles, +say that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr. and Mrs. +Deuceace; and that they must excuse us receiving them en famille. +Sit still, my blessing--take things coolly. Have you got the box +with the papers?" + +My lady pointed to a great green box--the same from which she had +taken the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them,--and handed over to +my lord a fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace and his wife on +the stepps, gave my messinge, and bowed them palitely in. + +My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a little +quicker, but I can't say); my lady sat upright, looking handsum and +strong. Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast, his +wife and hat on the other. He looked very pale and frightened; his +wife, poar thing! had her head berried in her handkerchief, and +sobd fit to break her heart. + +Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her, she +was less than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace at +onst, and held out her arms--she had a heart, that old Kicksey, and +I respect her for it. The poor hunchback flung herself into Miss's +arms, with a kind of whooping screech, and kep there for some time, +sobbing in quite a historical manner. I saw there was going to be +a sean, and so, in cors, left the door ajar. + +"Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy!" says my lord, in a loud, +hearty voice. "You thought you would give us the slip, eh, you +rogue? But we knew it, my dear fellow: we knew the whole affair-- +did we not, my soul?--and you see, kept our secret better than you +did yours." + +"I must confess, sir," says Deuceace, bowing, "that I had no idea +of the happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-law." + +"No, you dog; no, no," says my lord, giggling: "old birds, you +know, not to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But here we +are, all spliced and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon; let us +smoke a segar, and talk over the perils and adventures of the last +month. My love," says my lord, turning to his lady, you have no +malice against poor Algernon, I trust? Pray shake HIS HAND." (A +grin.) + +But my lady rose and said, "I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I never +wished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no reason, now, to +change my opinion." And herewith she sailed out of the room, by +the door through which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs. Deuceace. + +"Well, well," says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, "I was in hopes +she had forgiven you; but I know the whole story, and I must +confess you used her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow!--that +was your game, was it, you rogue?" + +"Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past between me and +Lady Grif--Lady Crabs, before our quarrel?" + +"Perfectly--you made love to her, and she was almost in love with +you; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your hand off +in revenge: no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace; no more sauter la +coupe. I can't think how the deuce you will manage to live without +them." + +"Your lordship is very kind; but I have given up play altogether," +says Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. + +"Oh, indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he? This is +better and better. Are you thinking of going into the church, +Deuceace?" + +"My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious?" + +"Serious! a quoi bon? I am serious--serious in my surprise that, +when you might have had either of these women, you should have +preferred that hideous wife of yours." + +"May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little squeamish +about a wife, as to choose a woman who had just been making love to +your own son?" says Deuceace, growing fierce. + +"How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand pounds-- +there is an execution at Sizes Hall--every acre I have is in the +hands of my creditors; and that's why I married her. Do you think +there was any love? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman, but she's +not a fool--she married me for my coronet, and I married her for +her money." + +"Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married the +daughter-in-law." + +"Yes, but I DO, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to live? +Dawkins's five thousand pounds won't last forever; and afterwards?" + +"You don't mean, my lord--you don't--I mean, you can't-- D---!" +says he, starting up, and losing all patience, "you don't dare to +say that Miss Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand a year?" + +My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, another +segar; he lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly-- + +"Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year." + +"Well, sir, and has she not got it now? Has she spent it in a +week?" + +"SHE HAS NOT GOT A SIX-PENCE NOW: SHE MARRIED WITHOUT HER MOTHER'S +CONSENT!" + +Deuceace sunk down in a chair; and I never see such a dreadful +picture of despair as there was in the face of that retchid man!-- +he writhed, and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and +wriggled madly the stump of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he +threw it over his livid pale face, and sinking backwards, fairly +wept alowd. + +Bah! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying! his pashn torn up +from the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git +such a vent. My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and +went on. + +"My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have left +you alone in peace, with your four thousand pounds: you might have +lived decently upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per cent, +where your duns would not find you, and a couple of hundred a year +would have kept you and your wife in comfort. But, you see, Lady +Crabs would not listen to it. You had injured her; and, after she +had tried to kill you and failed, she determined to ruin you, and +succeeded. I must own to you that I directed the arresting +business, and put her up to buying your protested bills: she got +them for a trifle, and as you have paid them, has made a good two +thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painful thing to be sure, +for a father to get his son arrested; but que voulez-vous! I did +not appear in the transaction: she would have you ruined; and it +was absolutely necessary that YOU should marry before I could, so I +pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the happy man +you are. You rogue, you rogue! you thought to match your old +father, did you? But, never mind; lunch will be ready soon. In +the meantime, have a segar, and drink a glass of Sauterne." + +Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up wildly. + +"I'll not believe it," he said: "it's a lie, an infernal lie! +forged by you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet +you have married. I'll not believe it; show me the will. Matilda! +Matilda!" shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and flinging open the +door by which she had gone out. + +"Keep your temper, my boy. You ARE vexed, and I feel for you: but +don't use such bad language: it is quite needless, believe me." + +"Matilda!" shouted out Deuceace again; and the poor crooked thing +came trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. + +"Is this true, woman?" says he, clutching hold of her hand. + +"What, dear Algernon?" says she. + +"What?" screams out Deuceace,--"what? Why that you are a beggar, +for marrying without your mother's consent--that you basely lied to +me, in order to bring about this match--that you are a swindler, in +conspiracy with that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife?" + +"It is true," sobbed the poor woman, "that I have nothing; but--" + +"Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool?" + +"I have nothing!--but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is +that not enough for us? You love me for myself, don't you, +Algernon? You have told me so a thousand times--say so again, dear +husband; and do not, do not be so unkind." And here she sank on +her knees, and clung to him, and tried to catch his hand, and kiss +it. + +"How much did you say?" says my lord. + +"Two thousand a year, sir; he has told us so a thousand times." + +"TWO THOUSAND! Two thou--ho, ho, ho!--haw! haw! haw!" roars my +lord. "That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My +dear creature, he has not a shilling--not a single maravedi, by all +the gods and goddesses." And this exlnt noblemin began laffin +louder than ever: a very kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all +must confess. + +There was a paws: and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing +at her husband as he had done at her: she only said, "O Algernon! +is this true?" and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. + +My lord opened the great box. "If you or your lawyers would like +to examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your service; you will +see here the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire +fortune to Lady Griffin--Lady Crabs that is: and here, my dear boy, +you see the danger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed +you the FIRST PAGE OF THE WILL, of course; she wanted to try you. +You thought you made a great stroke in at once proposing to Miss +Griffin--do not mind it, my love, he really loves you now very +sincerely!--when, in fact, you would have done much better to have +read the rest of the will. You were completely bitten, my boy-- +humbugged, bamboozled--ay, and by your old father, you dog. I told +you I would, you know, when you refused to lend me a portion of +your Dawkins money. I told you I would; and I DID. I had you the +very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy; don't +try your luck again against such old hands: look deuced well before +you leap: audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, read both sides +of the will. I think lunch is ready; but I see you don't smoke. +Shall we go in?" + +"Stop, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: "I shall not share +your hospitality--but--but you know my condition; I am penniless-- +you know the manner in which my wife has been brought up--" + +"The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, +as if nothing had occurred to interrupt the friendship between her +dear mother and herself." + +"And for me, sir," says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow; "I +hope--I trust--I think, my lord, you will not forget me?" + +"Forget you, sir; certainly not." + +"And that you will make some provision--?" + +"Algernon Deuceace," says my lord, getting up from the sophy, and +looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as I never see, "I +declare, before heaven, that I will not give you a penny!" + +Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, "My +dear, will you join your mother and me? We shall always, as I +said, have a home for you." + +"My lord," said the poar thing, dropping a curtsy, "my home is with +HIM!" + + . . . . . . + +About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, +and the autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my lady, me and +Mortimer, were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong, the carridge +driving on slowly ahead, and us as happy as possbill, admiring the +pleasant woods and the goldn sunset. + +My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit beauty of the +sean, and pouring forth a host of butifle and virtuous sentaments +sootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. "Ah!" said +he, "black must be the heart, my love, which does not feel the +influence of a scene like this; gathering as it were, from those +sunlit skies, a portion of their celestial gold, and gaining +somewhat of heaven with each pure draught of this delicious air!" + +Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked upwards. +Mortimer and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean, and +lent on our goold sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to +us, and my lord and my lady sauntered slowly tords it. + +Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a poorly drest +woman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom I thought +I'd sean befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat, with white +seems and copper buttons; a torn hat was on his head, and great +quantaties of matted hair and whiskers disfiggared his countnints. +He was not shaved, and as pale as stone. + +My lord and lady didn tak the slightest notice of him, but past on +to the carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took OUR places. As we +past, the man had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, who was +holding down her head sobbing bitterly. + +No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, with +igstream dellixy and good natur, burst into a ror of lafter, peal +upon peal, whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening +silents. + +DEUCEACE turned round. I see his face now--the face of a devvle of +hell! Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to it with +his maimed arm; then he raised the other, AND STRUCK THE WOMAN BY +HIS SIDE. She fell, screaming. + +Poor thing! Poor thing! + + + + +MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. + + +The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end of my +corrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part with me as I +am with the public; becaws I fansy reely that we've become frends, +and feal for my part a becoming greaf at saying ajew. + +It's imposbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I have +done--violetting the rules of authography, and trampling upon the +fust princepills of English grammar. When I began, I knew no +better: when I'd carrid on these papers a little further, and grew +accustmd to writin, I began to smel out somethink quear in my +style. Within the last sex weaks I have been learning to spell: +and when all the world was rejoicing at the festivvaties of our +youthful Quean--*when all i's were fixed upon her long sweet of +ambasdors and princes, following the splendid carridge of Marshle +the Duke of Damlatiar, and blinking at the pearls and dimince of +Prince Oystereasy--Yellowplush was in his loanly pantry--HIS eyes +were fixt upon the spelling-book--his heart was bent upon mastring +the diffickleties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, +CONVERTID. + + +* This was written in 1838. + + +You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house; and ever sins +his third son has got a place in the Treasury, his secknd a +captingsy in the Guards, his fust, the secretary of embasy at +Pekin, with a prospick of being appinted ambasdor at Loo Choo--ever +sins master's sons have reseaved these attentions, and master +himself has had the promis of a pearitch, he has been the most +reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in or out of the House of +Commins. + +Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave littery +pipple; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose name do you +think I had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a wick +ago? After several dukes and markises had been enounced, a very +gentell fly drives up to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen. +One was pail, and wor spektickles, a wig, and a white neckcloth. +The other was slim with a hook nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a +pare of falling shoulders, a tight coat, and a catarack of black +satting tumbling out of his busm, and falling into a gilt velvet +weskit. The little genlmn settled his wigg, and pulled out his +ribbins; the younger one fluffed the dust of his shoes, looked at +his whiskers in a little pockit-glas, settled his crevatt; and they +both mounted upstairs. + +"What name, sir?" says I, to the old genlmn. + +"Name!--a! now, you thief o' the wurrld," says he, "do you pretind +nat to know ME? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa--no, I mane the +Litherary Chran--psha!--bluthanowns!--say it's DOCTHOR DIOCLESIAN +LARNER--I think he'll know me now--ay, Nid?" But the genlmn called +Nid was at the botm of the stare, and pretended to be very busy +with his shoo-string. So the little genlmn went upstares alone. + +"DOCTOR DIOLESIUS LARNER!" says I. + +"DOCTOR ATHANASIUS LARDNER!" says Greville Fitz-Roy, our secknd +footman, on the fust landing-place. + +"DOCTOR IGNATIUS LOYOLA!" says the groom of the chambers, who +pretends to be a scholar; and in the little genlmn went. When +safely housed, the other chap came; and when I asked him his name, +said, in a thick, gobbling kind of voice: + +"Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig." + +"Sir what?" says I, quite agast at the name. + +"Sawedwad--no, I mean MISTAWedwad Lyttn Bulwig." + +My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice shook, +as I past up the venrabble name to the other footman, and saw this +fust of English writers go up to the drawing-room! + +It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the compny, or to +dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to say that the +two littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have good +appytights; igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who et, +drunk, and talked as much as a duzn. He told how he'd been +presented at cort by his friend, Mr. Bulwig, and how the Quean had +received 'em both, with a dignity undigscribable; and how her +blessid Majisty asked what was the bony fidy sale of the Cabinit +Cyclopaedy, and how be (Doctor Larner) told her that, on his +honner, it was under ten thowsnd. + +You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, was pretty +far gone. The fact is, that whether it was the coronation, or the +goodness of the wine (cappitle it is in our house, I can tell you), +or the natral propensaties of the gests assembled, which made them +so igspecially jolly, I don't know; but they had kep up the meating +pretty late, and our poar butler was quite tired with the +perpechual baskits of clarrit which he'd been called upon to bring +up. So that about 11 o'clock, if I were to say they were merry, I +should use a mild term; if I wer to say they were intawsicated, I +should use a nigspresshn more near to the truth, but less +rispeckful in one of my situashn. + +The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute extonishment. + +"Pray, Doctor Larnder," says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep up +the littery conversation, "what is the Cabinet Cyclopaedia?" + +"It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld," says he; "and sure +your lordship must have seen it; the latther numbers ispicially-- +cheap as durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shillings a vollum. +The illusthrious neems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther +Southey, Sir James Mackintosh, Docther Donovan, and meself, are to +be found in the list of conthributors. It's the Phaynix of +Cyclopajies--a litherary Bacon." + +"A what?" says the genlmn nex to him. + +"A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age; fild wid the pure end +lambent flame of science, burning with the gorrgeous scintillations +of divine litherature--a monumintum, in fact, are perinnius, bound +in pink calico, six shillings a vollum." + +"This wigmawole," said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather disgusted that +his friend should take up so much of the convassation), "this +wigmawole is all vewy well; but it's cuwious that you don't +wemember, in chawactewising the litewawy mewits of the vawious +magazines, cwonicles, weviews, and encyclopaedias, the existence of +a cwitical weview and litewary chwonicle, which, though the aewa of +its appeawance is dated only at a vewy few months pwevious to the +pwesent pewiod, is, nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic +mewits as to be wead, not in the metwopolis alone, but in the +countwy--not in Fwance merely, but in the west of Euwope--whewever +our pure Wenglish is spoken, it stwetches its peaceful sceptre-- +pewused in Amewica, fwom New York to Ningawa--wepwinted in Canada, +from Montweal to Towonto--and, as I am gwatified to hear fwom my +fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle, wegularly weceived in +Afwica, and twanslated into the Mandingo language by the +missionawies and the bushwangers. I need not say, gentlemen-- +sir--that is, Mr. Speaker--I mean, Sir John--that I allude to the +Litewary Chwonicle, of which I have the honor to be pwincipal +contwibutor." + +"Very true; my dear Mr. Bullwig," says my master: "you and I being +Whigs, must of course stand by our own friends; and I will agree, +without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary what-d'ye-call'em +is the prince of periodicals." + +"The pwince of pewiodicals?" says Bullwig; "my dear Sir John, it's +the empewow of the pwess." + +"Soit,--let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically call +it: but, between ourselves, confess it,--Do not the Tory writers +beat your Whigs hollow? You talk about magazines. Look at--" + +"Look at hwat?" shouts out Larder. "There's none, Sir Jan, +compared to ourrs." + +"Pardon me, I think that--" + +"It is 'Bentley's Mislany' you mane?" says Ignatius, as sharp as a +niddle. + +"Why, no; but--" + +"O thin, it's Co'burn, sure! and that divvle Thayodor--a pretty +paper, sir, but light--thrashy, milk-and-wathery--not sthrong, like +the Litherary Chran--good luck to it." + +"Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name of the +periodical, it's FRASER'S MAGAZINE." + +"FRESER!" says the Doctor. "O thunder and turf!" + +"FWASER!" says Bullwig. "O--ah--hum--haw--yes--no--why,--that is +weally--no, weally, upon my weputation, I never before heard the +name of the pewiodical. By the by, Sir John, what wemarkable good +clawet this is; is it Lawose or Laff--?" + +Laff, indeed! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could +kip it neither,--for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind +the skreend, settlin somethink for the genlmn, I bust into such a +raw of laffing as never was igseeded. + +"Hullo!" says Bullwig, turning red. "Have I said anything +impwobable, aw widiculous? for, weally, I never befaw wecollect to +have heard in society such a twemendous peal of cachinnation--that +which the twagic bard who fought at Mawathon has called an +anewithmon gelasma." + +"Why, be the holy piper," says Larder, "I think you are dthrawing a +little on your imagination. Not read Fraser! Don't believe him, +my lord duke; he reads every word of it, the rogue! The boys about +that magazine baste him as if he was a sack of oatmale. My reason +for crying out, Sir Jan, was because you mintioned Fraser at all. +Bullwig has every syllable of it be heart--from the pailitix down +to the 'Yellowplush Correspondence.'" + +"Ha, ha!" says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure my ears +prickt up when I heard the name of the "Yellowplush Correspondence"). +"Ha, ha! why, to tell truth, I HAVE wead the cowespondence to which +you allude: it's a gweat favowite at court. I was talking with +Spwing Wice and John Wussell about it the other day." + +"Well, and what do you think of it?" says Sir John, looking mity +waggish--for he knew it was me who roat it. + +"Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness about the +cweature; but it's low, disgustingly low: it violates pwabability, +and the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a +positive study to compwehend it." + +"Yes, faith," says Larner; "the arthagraphy is detestible; it's as +bad for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a +brrogue. Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my +lord, and good luck to you." + +"Yaw wemark," says Bullwig, "is vewy appwopwiate. You will +wecollect, Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you know +more about Iwish than about Gweek),--you will wecollect, without +doubt, a stowy nawwated by that cwedulous though fascinating +chwonicler, of a certain kind of sheep which is known only in a +certain distwict of Awabia, and of which the tail is so enormous, +that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or is bound up by the +shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, or cart, which +makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus 'the sheep of +Awabia have their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this +clawet is weally nectaweous)--I have often, I say, thought that the +wace of man may be compawed to these Awabian sheep--genius is our +tail, education our wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop +it, this genius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or +injured by the wocks upon the way: with the wheelbawwow it is +stwengthened, incweased, and supported--a pwide to the owner, a +blessing to mankind." + +"A very appropriate simile," says Sir John; "and I am afraid that +the genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such support." + +"Apropos," said Bullwig, "who IS Yellowplush? I was given to +understand that the name was only a fictitious one, and that the +papers were written by the author of the 'Diary of a Physician;' if +so, the man has wonderfully improved in style, and there is some +hope of him." + +"Bah!" says the Duke of Doublejowl; "everybody knows it's Barnard, +the celebrated author of 'Sam Slick.'" + +"Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig; "it's the authoress of +'High Life,' 'Almack's,' and other fashionable novels." + +"Fiddlestick's end!" says Doctor Larner; "don't be blushing and +pretinding to ask questions; don't we know you, Bullwig? It's you +yourself, you thief of the world: we smoked you from the very +beginning." + +Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John interrupted +them, and said,--"I must correct you all, gentlemen; Mr. Yellowplush +is no other than Mr. Yellowplush: he gave you, my dear Bullwig, your +last glass of champagne at dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, +and an ornament of my kitchen!" + +"Gad!" says Doublejowl, "let's have him up." + +"Hear, hear!" says Bagwig. + +"Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up and +talk to a footman, sure? Is it gintale?" + +"To say the least of it," says Bullwig, "the pwactice is iwwegular, +and indecowous; and I weally don't see how the interview can be in +any way pwofitable." + +But the vices of the company went against the two littery men, and +everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell was +wrung; butler came. "Send up Charles," says master; and Charles, +who was standing behind the skreand, was persnly abliged to come +in. + +"Charles," says master, "I have been telling these gentlemen who +is the author of the 'Yellowplush Correspondence' in Fraser's +Magazine." + +"It's the best magazine in Europe," says the duke. + +"And no mistake," says my lord. + +"Hwhat!" says Larner; "and where's the Litherary Chran?" + +I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like pickle- +cabbitch. + +"Mr. Yellowplush," says his grace, "will you, in the first place, +drink a glass of wine?" + +I boughed agin. + +"And what wine do you prefer, sir? humble port or imperial burgundy?" + +"Why, your grace," says I, "I know my place, and ain't above +kitchin wines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to the +health of this honrabble compny." + +When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself did me the +honor to pour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit; when my +master said:-- + +"Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in Fraser's +Magazine with so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of +your talents as a writer, that I really cannot keep you as a +footman any longer, or allow you to discharge duties for which you +are now quite unfit. With all my admiration for your talents, Mr. +Yellowplush, I still am confident that many of your friends in the +servants'-hall will clean my boots a great deal better than a +gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to do--it is for this +purpose I employ footmen, and not that they may be writing articles +in magazines. But--you need not look so red, my good fellow, and +had better take another glass of port--I don't wish to throw you +upon the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have +made interest for a little place which you will have under +government, and which will give you an income of eighty pounds per +annum; which you can double, I presume, by your literary labors." + +"Sir," says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, "do not-- +for heaven's sake, do not!--think of any such think, or drive me +from your suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in +magaseens. Glans but one moment at your honor's plate--every spoon +is as bright as a mirror; condysend to igsamine your shoes--your +honor may see reflected in them the fases of every one in the +company. I blacked them shoes, I cleaned that there plate. If +occasionally I've forgot the footman in the litterary man, and +committed to paper my remindicences of fashnabble life, it was from +a sincere desire to do good, and promote nollitch: and I appeal to +your honor,--I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of this +noble company beg you to say, When you rung your bell, who came to +you fust? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up +for you? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of his +station, and answered the two-pair bell? Oh, sir," says I, "I know +what's what; don't send me away. I know them littery chaps, and, +beleave me, I'd rather be a footman. The work's not so hard--the +pay is better: the vittels incompyrably supearor. I have but to +clean my things, and run my errints, and you put clothes on my +back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! Mr. Bullwig! an't I right? shall +I quit MY station and sink--that is to say, rise--to YOURS?" + +Bullwig was violently affected; a tear stood in his glistening i. +"Yellowplush," says he, seizing my hand, "you ARE right. Quit not +your present occupation; black boots, clean knives, wear plush, all +your life, but don't turn literary man. Look at me. I am the +first novelist in Europe. I have ranged with eagle wing over the +wide regions of literature, and perched on every eminence in its +turn. I have gazed with eagle eyes on the sun of philosophy, and +fathomed the mysterious depths of the human mind. All languages +are familiar to me, all thoughts are known to me, all men +understood by me. I have gathered wisdom from the honeyed lips of +Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of Acadames--wisdom, too, from +the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked our 'backy in Seven Dials. +Such must be the studies, and such is the mission, in this world, +of the Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge is only emptiness; the +initiation is but misery; the initiated, a man shunned and bann'd +by his fellows. Oh," said Bullwig, clasping his hands, and +throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, "the curse of +Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue them +from genewation to genewation! Wo to genius, the heaven-scaler, +the fire-stealer! Wo and thrice bitter desolation! Earth is the +wock on which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim--men, +the vultures that feed and fatten on him. Ai, ai! it is agony +eternal--gwoaning and solitawy despair! And you, Yellowplush, +would penetwate these mystewies: you would waise the awful veil, +and stand in the twemendous Pwesence. Beware; as you value your +peace, beware! Withdwaw, wash Neophyte! For heaven's sake--O for +heaven's sake!--" here he looked round with agony--give me a glass +of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is beginning to disagwee with +me." + +Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own +sattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and then +swigged off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a sollum sigh as +he took the last gulph; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed for a +chans, and, in order to show his independence, began flatly +contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn +present, in the following manner:-- + +"Hark ye," says he, "my gossoon, doan't be led asthray by the +nonsinse of that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, my bhoy: +that's the rale, undoubted thruth; and it's only to keep you out of +litherary life that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you +what--Plush ye blackguard,--my honorable frind the mimber there has +told me a hunder times by the smallest computation, of his intense +admiration of your talents, and the wonderful sthir they were +making in the world. He can't bear a rival. He's mad with envy, +hatred, oncharatableness. Look at him, Plush, and look at me. My +father was not a juke exactly, nor aven a markis, and see, +nevertheliss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no ixpinse; I'm +the iditor of a cople of pariodicals; I dthrive about in me +carridge: I dine wid the lords of the land; and why--in the name of +the piper that pleed before Mosus, hwy? Because I'm a litherary +man. Because I know how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther +Larner, in fact, and mimber of every society in and out of Europe. +I might have remained all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never +made such an incom as that offered you by Sir Jan; but I came to +London--to London, my boy, and now see! Look again at me friend +Bullwig. He IS a gentleman, to be sure, and bad luck to 'im, say +I; and what has been the result of his litherary labor? I'll tell +you what; and I'll tell this gintale society, by the shade of Saint +Patrick, they're going to make him a BARINET." + +"A BARNET, Doctor!" says I; "you don't mean to say they're going to +make him a barnet!" + +"As sure as I've made meself a docthor," says Larner. + +"What, a baronet, like Sir John?" + +"The divle a bit else." + +"And pray what for?" + +"What faw?" says Bullwig. "Ask the histowy of litwatuwe what faw? +Ask Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, ask the gweat +Bwitish nation, what faw? The blood in my veins comes puwified +thwough ten thousand years of chivalwous ancestwy; but that is +neither here nor there: my political principles--the equal wights +which I have advocated--the gweat cause of fweedom that I have +celebwated, are known to all. But this, I confess, has nothing to +do with the question. No, the question is this--on the thwone of +litewature I stand unwivalled, pwe-eminent; and the Bwitish +government, honowing genius in me, compliments the Bwitish nation +by lifting into the bosom of the heweditawy nobility, the most +gifted member of the democwacy." (The honrabble genlm here sunk +down amidst repeated cheers.) + +"Sir John," says I, "and my lord duke, the words of my rivrint +frend Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn who has +just sate down, have made me change the detummination which I had +the honor of igspressing just now. + +"I igsept the eighty pound a year; knowing that I shall ave plenty +of time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day to set +on that same bentch of barranites, which is deckarated by the +presnts of my honrabble friend. + +"Why shooden I? It's trew I ain't done anythink as YET to deserve +such an honor; and it's very probable that I never shall. But what +then?--quaw dong, as our friends say? I'd much rayther have a +coat-of-arms than a coat of livry. I'd much rayther have my blud- +red hand spralink in the middle of a shield, than underneath a tea- +tray. A barranit I will be; and, in consiquints, must cease to be +a footmin. + +"As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled: +they are, I know, necessary; but they ain't necessary UNTIL ASKT +FOR; besides, I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, and so +ignirince on this pint would be inigscusable. + +"But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit, and +another a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and another +the wife of a governor of the Cape of Good Hope, I begin to +perseave that the littery trade ain't such a very bad un; +igspecially if you're up to snough, and know what's o'clock. I'll +learn to make myself usefle, in the fust place; then I'll larn to +spell; and, I trust, by reading the novvles of the honrabble +member, and the scientafick treatiseses of the reverend doctor, I +may find the secrit of suxess, and git a litell for my own share. +I've sevral frends in the press, having paid for many of those +chaps' drink, and given them other treets; and so I think I've got +all the emilents of suxess; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, +to igsept your kind offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I +made yous of when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, +however--" + +"I wish you'd withdraw yourself," said Sir John, bursting into a +most igstrorinary rage, "and not interrupt the company with your +infernal talk! Go down, and get us coffee: and, hark ye! hold your +impertinent tongue, or I'll break every bone in your body. You +shall have the place as I said; and while you're in my service, you +shall be my servant; but you don't stay in my service after to- +morrow. Go down stairs, sir; and don't stand staring here!" + + . . . . . . + +In this abrupt way, my evening ended; it's with a melancholy regret +that I think what came of it. I don't wear plush any more. I am +an altered, a wiser, and, I trust, a better man. + +I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), in the +style of my friend Bullwig; and preparing for publigation, in the +Doctor's Cyclopedear, "The Lives of Eminent British and Foring +Wosherwomen." + + + +SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV." + + +CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* + +DEAR WHY,--Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir John and +me (who is a member of parlyment) had gone down to our place in +Yorkshire for six wicks, to shoot grows and woodcox, and enjoy old +English hospitalaty. This ugly Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end +to our sports in the country, and brot us up to Buckly Square as +fast as four posterses could gallip. When there, I found your +parcel, containing the two vollumes of a new book; which, as I have +been away from the literary world, and emplied solely in athlatic +exorcises, have been laying neglected in my pantry, among my knife- +cloaths, and dekanters, and blacking-bottles, and bed-room candles, +and things. + + +* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and +it may be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, +that "Oliver Yorke" is the assumed name of the editor of that +periodical. + + +This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the work. +I see sefral of the papers and magazeens have been befoarhand with +me, and have given their apinions concerning it: specially the +Quotly Revew, which has most mussilessly cut to peases the author +of this Dairy of the Times of George IV.* + + +* Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, +interspersed with Original Letters from the late Queen Caroline, +and from various other distinguished Persons. + + "Tot ou tard, tout se scait."--MAINTENON. + +In 2 vols. London, 1838. Henry Colburn. + + +That it's a woman who wrote it is evydent from the style of the +writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most +suttnly a femail wrote this Dairy; but who this Dairy-maid may be, +I, in coarse, can't conjecter: and indeed, common galliantry +forbids me to ask. I can only judge of the book itself; which, it +appears to me, is clearly trenching upon my ground and favrite +subjicks, viz. fashnabble life, as igsibited in the houses of the +nobility, gentry, and rile fammly. + +But I bare no mallis--infamation is infamation, and it doesn't +matter where the infamy comes from; and whether the Dairy be from +that distinguished pen to which it is ornarily attributed--whether, +I say, it comes from a lady of honor to the late quean, or a +scullion to that diffunct majisty, no matter: all we ask is +nollidge; never mind how we have it. Nollidge, as our cook says, +is like trikel-possit--it's always good, though you was to drink it +out of an old shoo. + +Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my +pussonal intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in +my private memoars--though many, many guineas, is taken from my +pockit, by cuttin short the tail of my narratif--though much that I +had to say in souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance +of my orytory, the benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of +my agreble wit, is thus abruply brot befor the world by an inferior +genus, neither knowing nor writing English; yet I say, that +nevertheless I must say, what I am puffickly prepaired to say, to +gainsay which no man can say a word--yet I say, that I say I +consider this publication welkom. Far from viewing it with enfy, I +greet it with applaws; because it increases that most exlent +specious of nollidge, I mean "FASHNABBLE NOLLIDGE:" compayred to +witch all other nollidge is nonsince--a bag of goold to a pare of +snuffers. + +Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say what he +had tu say better? We are marters, both of us, to prinsple; and +every body who knows eather knows that we would sacrafice anythink +rather than that. Fashion is the goddiss I adoar. This delightful +work is an offring on her srine; and as sich all her wushippers are +bound to hail it. Here is not a question of trumpry lords and +honrabbles, generals and barronites, but the crown itself, and the +king and queen's actions; witch may be considered as the crown +jewels. Here's princes, and grand-dukes and airsparent, and heaven +knows what; all with blood-royal in their veins, and their names +mentioned in the very fust page of the peeridge. In this book you +become so intmate with the Prince of Wales, that you may follow +him, if you please, to his marridge-bed: or, if you prefer the +Princiss Charlotte, you may have with her an hour's tator-tator.* + + +* Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tete-a-tete.--O. Y. + + +Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this book have been +given already (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say,) I shall +trouble you, nevertheless, with a few; partly because they can't be +repeated too often, and because the toan of obsyvation with which +they have been genrally received by the press, is not igsackly such +as I think they merit. How, indeed, can these common magaseen and +newspaper pipple know anythink of fashnabble life, let alone ryal? + +Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has done reel +good on this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look +through it, for the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, +and which I think may be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick. + +For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that this +is no common catchpny book, like that of most authors and +authoresses, who write for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless +you! the Dairy-maid is above anything musnary. She is a woman of +rank, and no mistake; and is as much above doin a common or vulgar +action as I am superaor to taking beer after dinner with my cheese. +She proves that most satisfackarily, as we see in the following +passidge:-- + + +"Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phrases on +different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes to have +published: her whole correspondence with the prince relative to +Lady J---'s dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the princess; and, +finally, the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of +Portland, &c., at the time of the secret inquiry: when, if proof +could have been brought against her, it certainly would have been +done; and which acquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, +as well as to the justice of the nation in general, was not made +public at the time. A common criminal is publicly condemned or +acquitted. Her royal highness commanded me to have these letters +published forthwith, saying, 'You may sell them for a great sum.' +At first (for she had spoken to me before concerning this business), +I thought of availing myself of the opportunity; but upon second +thoughts, I turned from this idea with detestation: for, if I do +wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavoring to serve her, I will do +so at least from good and disinterested motives, not from any sordid +views. The princess commands me, and I will obey her, whatever may +be the issue; but not for fare or fee. I own I tremble, not so much +for myself, as for the idea that she is not taking the best and most +dignified way of having these papers published. Why make a secret +of it at all? If wrong, it should not be done; if right it should +be done openly, and in the face of her enemies. In her royal +highness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, why do +they shrink from straightforward dealings, and rather have recourse +to crooked policy? I wish, in this particular instance, I could +make her royal highness feel thus: but she is naturally indignant at +being falsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed +explanation." + + +Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The Dairy-lady +is quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she, and no +favior! "I won't do behind my back what I am ashamed of before my +face: not I!" No more she does; for you see that, though she was +offered this manyscrip by the princess FOR NOTHINK, though she knew +that she could actially get for it a large sum of money, she was +above it, like an honest, noble, grateful, fashnabble woman, as she +was. She aboars secrecy, and never will have recors to disguise or +crookid polacy. This ought to be an ansure to them RADICLE +SNEERERS, who pretend that they are the equals of fashnabble +pepple; wheras it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar roagues have +no notion of honor. + +And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her +ladyship (long life to her! I've often waited behind her chair!)-- +after this positif declaration, that, even for the porpus of +DEFENDING her missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink +like a peculiarly consideration, it is actially asserted in the +public prints by a booxeller, that he has given her A THOUSAND +POUND for the Dairy. A thousand pound! nonsince!--it's a phigment! +a base lible! This woman take a thousand pound, in a matter where +her dear mistriss, friend, and benyfactriss was concerned! Never! +A thousand baggonits would be more prefrabble to a woman of her +xqizzit feelins and fashion. + +But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some of my +expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occasionally +vulgar, and not such as is genrally used in those exqizzit famlies +which I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager that there is in this +book, wrote as all the world knows, by a rele lady, and speakin of +kings and queens as if they were as common as sand-boys--there is +in this book more wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness +than ever I would dare TO THINK ON, and more bad grammar than ever +I wrote since I was a boy at school. As for authografy, evry +genlmn has his own: never mind spellin, I say, so long as the sence +is right. + +Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming +lady of honor; and a very nice corryspondent he is, too, without +any mistake: + + +"Lady O---, poor Lady O---! knows the rules of prudence, I fear me, +as imperfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars: +or she hath let her brother, who is a sad swine, become master of +her secrets, and then contrived to quarrel with him. You would see +the outline of the melange in the newspapers; but not the report +that Mr. S--- is about to publish a pamphlet, as an addition to the +Harleian Tracts, setting forth the amatory adventures of his +sister. We shall break our necks in haste to buy it, of course +crying 'Shameful' all the while; and it is said that Lady O--- is +to be cut, which I cannot entirely believe. Let her tell two or +three old women about town that they are young and handsome, and +give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep the society +which she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as they +once were, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta with +anything like impunity. People were full as gallant many years +ago. But the days are gone by wherein my lord-protector of the +commonwealth of England was wont to go a lovemaking to Mrs. +Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. + +"And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband at last, +and Miss Laura Manners left without a mate! She and Lord Stair +should marry and have children in mere revenge. As to Miss Gordon, +she's a Venus well suited for such a Vulcan,--whom nothing but +money and a title could have rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen +wench. It is said that the matrimonial correspondence between this +couple is to be published, full of sad scandalous relations, of +which you may be sure scarcely a word is true. In former times, +the Duchess of St. A---s made use of these elegant epistles in +order to intimidate Lady Johnstone: but that ruse would not avail; +so in spite, they are to be printed. What a cargo of amiable +creatures! Yet will some people scarcely believe in the existence +of Pandemonium. + +"Tuesday Morning.--You are perfectly right respecting the hot rooms +here, which we all cry out against, and all find very comfortable-- +much more so than the cold sands and bleak neighborhood of the sea; +which looks vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures hung upon +crimson damask, but hideous and shocking in reality. H--- and his +'elle' (talking of parties) were last night at Cholmondeley House, +but seem not to ripen in their love. He is certainly good-humored, +and I believe, good-hearted, so deserves a good wife; but his cara +seems a genuine London miss made up of many affectations. Will she +form a comfortable helpmate? For me, I like not her origin, and +deem many strange things to run in blood, besides madness and the +Hanoverian evil. + +"Thursday.--I verily do believe that I shall never get to the end +of this small sheet of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have +I had; and now I have been to Vauxhall, and caught the toothache. +I was of Lady E. B---m and H---'s party: very dull--the Lady giving +us all a supper after our promenade-- + + + 'Much ado was there, God wot + She would love, but he would not.' + + +He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it: +and she 'faisoit les yeux doux' enough not only to have melted all +the ice which he swallowed, but his own hard heart into the +bargain. The thing will not do. In the meantime, Miss Long hath +become quite cruel to Wellesley Pole, and divides her favor equally +between Lords Killeen and Kilworth, two as simple Irishmen as ever +gave birth to a bull. I wish to Hymen that she were fairly +married, for all this pother gives one a disgusting picture of +human nature." + + +A disgusting pictur of human nature, indeed--and isn't he who +moralizes about it, and she to whom he writes, a couple of pretty +heads in the same piece? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, the +scandle or the scandle-mongers? See what it is to be a moral man +of fashn. Fust, he scrapes togither all the bad stoaries about all +the people of his acquentance--he goes to a ball, and laffs or +snears at everybody there--he is asked to a dinner, and brings +away, along with meat and wine to his heart's content, a sour +stomick filled with nasty stories of all the people present there. +He has such a squeamish appytite, that all the world seems to +DISAGREE with him. And what has he got to say to his delicate +female frend? Why that-- + +Fust. Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady O---, +his sister, which everybody's goin to by. + +Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an usband; and +that all their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too. + +3. That Lord H. is going to be married; but there's some thing +rong in his wife's blood. + +4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two Irish +lords. + +Wooden you phancy, now, that the author of such a letter, instead +of writin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin Vinegar +Yard? Would you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin to was a +chased, modist lady of honor, and mother of a famly? O trumpery! +O morris! as Homer says: this is a higeous pictur of manners, such +as I weap to think of, as evry morl man must weap. + +The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life: what +follows is about families even higher situated than the most +fashnabble. Here we have the princessregient, her daughter the +Princess Sharlot, her grandmamma the old quean, and her madjisty's +daughters the two princesses. If this is not high life, I don't +know where it is to be found; and it's pleasing to see what +affeckshn and harmny rains in such an exolted spear. + + +"Sunday 24th.--Yesterday, the princess went to meet the Princess +Charlotte at Kensington. Lady ---- told me that, when the latter +arrived, she rushed up to her mother, and said, 'For God's sake, be +civil to her,' meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. +Lady ---- said she felt sorry for the latter; but when the Princess +of Wales talked to her, she soon became so free and easy, that one +could not have any FEELING about her FEELINGS. Princess Charlotte, +I was told, was looking handsome, very pale, but her head more +becomingly dressed,--that is to say, less dressed than usual. Her +figure is of that full round shape which is now in its prime; but +she disfigures herself by wearing her bodice so short, that she +literally has no waist. Her feet are very pretty; and so are her +hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape of her head. Her +countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions to play +upon it; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, express so +many powerful and varied emotions. Lady ---- told me that the +Princess Charlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in +a very quiet, but determined way, she WOULD NOT BEAR IT, and that +as soon as parliament met, she intended to come to Warwick House, +and remain there; that she was also determined not to consider the +Duchess of Leeds as her GOVERNESS but only as her FIRST LADY. She +made many observations on other persons and subjects; and appears +to be very quick, very penetrating, but imperious and wilful. +There is a tone of romance, too, in her character, which will only +serve to mislead her. + +"She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsor +between the queen and the prince, the former refusing to give up +Miss Knight from her own person to attend on Princess Charlotte as +sub-governess. But the prince-regent had gone to Windsor himself, +and insisted on her doing so; and the 'old Beguin' was forced to +submit, but has been ill ever since: and Sir Henry Halford declared +it was a complete breaking up of her constitution--to the great +delight of the two princesses, who were talking about this affair. +Miss Knight was the very person they wished to have; they think +they can do as they like with her. It has been ordered that the +Princess Charlotte should not see her mother alone for a single +moment; but the latter went into her room, stuffed a pair of large +shoes full of papers, and having given them to her daughter, she +went home. Lady ---- told me everything was written down and sent +to Mr. Brougham NEXT DAY." + + +See what discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies. +Here are six of 'em--viz., the quean and her two daughters, her +son, and his wife and daughter; and the manner in which they hate +one another is a compleat puzzle. + + {his mother. +The Prince hates . . . {his wife. + {his daughter. + +Princess Charlotte hates her father. + +Princess of Wales hates her husband. + +The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death; and her +two jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a happy, +fashnabble, Christian famly! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if this is +the way in the drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live below, in +pease and charaty with all men; writin, as I am now, in my pantry, +or els havin a quiet game at cards in the servants-all. With US +there's no bitter, wicked, quarling of this sort. WE don't hate +our children, or bully our mothers, or wish 'em ded when they're +sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and queens do. When we're +writing to our friends or sweethearts, WE don't fill our letters +with nasty stoaries, takin away the carricter of our fellow- +servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' moral frend does. But, +in coarse, it's not for us to judge of our betters;--these great +people are a supeerur race, and we can't comprehend their ways. + +Do you recklect--it's twenty years ago now--how a bewtiffle +princess died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole +nation of Hengland wep, as though it was one man, over that sweet +woman and child, in which were sentered the hopes of every one of +us, and of which each was as proud as of his own wife or infnt? Do +you recklect how pore fellows spent their last shillin to buy a +black crape for their hats, and clergymen cried in the pulpit, and +the whole country through was no better than a great dismal +funeral? Do you recklet, Mr. Yorke, who was the person that we all +took on so about? We called her the Princis Sharlot of Wales; and +we valyoud a single drop of her blood more than the whole heartless +body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as a kind of saint +or angle, and blest God (such foolish loyal English pipple as we +ware in those days) who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. +But heaven bless you! it was only souperstition. She was no better +than she should be, as it turns out--or at least the Dairy-maid +says so. No better?--if my daughters or yours was 1/2 so bad, we'd +as leaf be dead ourselves, and they hanged. But listen to this +pritty charritable story, and a truce to reflexshuns:-- + + +"Sunday, January, 9, 1814.--Yesterday, according to appointment, I +went to Princess Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp- +player, Dizzi; was asked to remain and listen to his performance, +but was talked to during the whole time, which completely prevented +all possibility of listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds +and her daughter were in the room, but left it soon. Next arrived +Miss Knight, who remained all the time I was there. Princess +Charlotte was very gracious--showed me all her bonny dyes, as B--- +would have called them--pictures, and cases, and jewels, &c. She +talked in a very desultory way, and it would be difficult to say of +what. She observed her mother was in very low spirits. I asked +her how she supposed she could be otherwise? This QUESTIONING +answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves two purposes--i.e. +avoids committing oneself, or giving offence by silence. There was +hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst others, that very much +resembled the Duke of D---. I asked Miss Knight whom it represented. +She said that was not known; it had been supposed a likeness of the +Pretender, when young. This answer suited my thoughts so comically +I could have laughed, if one ever did at courts anything but the +contrary of what one was inclined to do. + +"Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in her +countenance--a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen +in connection with such soft and shadeless coloring. Her hands and +arms are beautiful; but I think her figure is already gone, and +will soon be precisely like her mother's: in short it is the very +picture of her, and NOT IN MINIATURE. I could not help analyzing +my own sensations during the time I was with her, and thought more +of them than I did of her. Why was I at all flattered, at all more +amused, at all more supple to this young princess, than to her who +is only the same sort of person set in the shade of circumstances +and of years? It is that youth, and the approach of power, and the +latent views of self-interest, sway the heart and dazzle the +understanding. If this is so with a heart not, I trust, corrupt, +and a head not particularly formed for interested calculations, +what effect must not the same causes produce on the generality of +mankind? + +"In the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived +to edge in a good deal of tum-de-dy, and would, if I had entered +into the thing, have gone on with it, while looking at a little +picture of herself, which had about thirty or forty different +dresses to put over it, done on isinglass, and which allowed the +general coloring of the picture to be seen through its transparency. +It was, I thought, a pretty enough conceit, though rather like +dressing up a doll. 'Ah!,' said Miss Knight, 'I am not content +though, madame--for I yet should have liked one more dress--that of +the favorite Sultana.' + +"'No, no!' said the princess, 'I never was a favorite, and never +can be one,'--looking at a picture which she said was her father's, +but which I do not believe was done for the regent any more than +for me, but represented a young man in a hussar's dress--probably a +former favorite. + +"The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that +was taken of her birthday. After keeping me for two hours and a +half she dismissed me; and I am sure I could not say what she said, +except that it was an olio of decousus and heterogeneous things, +partaking of the characteristics of her mother, grafted on a +younger scion. I dined tete-a-tete with my dear old aunt: hers is +always a sweet and soothing society to me." + + +There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you! An innocent +young thing of fifteen has picturs of TWO lovers in her room, and +expex a good number more. This dellygate young creature EDGES in a +good deal of TUMDEDY (I can't find it in Johnson's Dixonary), and +would have GONE ON WITH THE THING (ellygence of languidge), if the +dairy-lady would have let her. + +Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't beleave a single +syllible of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust +place, that the princess would have talked a good deal of TUMDEDY: +which means, I suppose, indeasnsy, if she, the lady of honner WOULD +HAVE LET HER. This IS a good one! Why, she lets every body else +talk tumdedy to their hearts' content; she lets her friends WRITE +tumdedy, and, after keeping it for a quarter of a sentry, she +PRINTS it. Why then, be so squeamish about HEARING a little! And, +then, there's the stoary of the two portricks. This woman has the +honner to be received in the frendlyest manner by a British +princess; and what does the grateful loyal creature do? 2 picturs +of the princess's relations are hanging in her room, and the Dairy- +woman swears away the poor young princess's carrickter, by swearing +they are picturs of her LOVERS. For shame, oh, for shame! you +slanderin backbitin dairy-woman you! If you told all them things +to your "dear old aunt," on going to dine with her, you must have +had very "sweet and soothing society" indeed. + +I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write about; +but I think I have said enough about this Dairy: in fack, the +butler, and the gals in the servants'-hall are not well pleased +that I should go on reading this naughty book; so we'll have no +more of it, only one passidge about Pollytics, witch is sertnly +quite new:-- + + +"No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the Crown +Prince, from the intimate knowledge he possessed of his character. +Bernadotte was also instigated against Bonaparte by one who not +only owed him a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind equal to +his, and who gave the Crown Prince both information and advice how +to act. This was no less a person than Madame de Stael. It was +not, as some have asserted, THAT SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH BERNADOTTE; +for, at the time of their intimacy, MADAME DE STAEL WAS IN LOVE +WITH ROCCA. But she used her influence (which was not small) with +the Crown Prince, to make him fight against Bonaparte, and to her +wisdom may be attributed much of the success which accompanied his +attack upon him. Bernadotte has raised the flame of liberty, which +seems fortunately to blaze all around. May it liberate Europe; and +from the ashes of the laurel may olive branches spring up, and +overshadow the earth!" + + +There's a discuvery! that the overthrow of Boneypart is owing to +MADAME DE STAEL! What nonsince for Colonel Southey or Doctor +Napier to write histories of the war with that Capsican hupstart +and murderer, when here we have the whole affair explaned by the +lady of honor! + + +"Sunday, April 10, 1814.--The incidents which take place every hour +are miraculous. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive; subdued, but +allowed to choose his place of residence. The island of Elba is +the spot he has selected for his ignominious retreat. France is +holding forth repentant arms to her banished sovereign. The +Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. to the scaffold are presenting +flowers to the Emperor of Russia, the restorer of their legitimate +king! What a stupendous field for philosophy to expatiate in! +What an endless material for thought! What humiliation to the +pride of mere human greatness! How are the mighty fallen! Of all +that was great in Napoleon, what remains? Despoiled of his usurped +power, he sinks to insignificance. There was no moral greatness in +the man. The meteor dazzled, scorched, is put out,--utterly, and +for ever. But the power which rests in those who have delivered +the nations from bondage, is a power that is delegated to them from +heaven; and the manner in which they have used it is a guarantee +for its continuance. The Duke of Wellington has gained laurels +unstained by any useless flow of blood. He has done more than +conquer others--he has conquered himself: and in the midst of the +blaze and flush of victory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he +has not been betrayed into the commission of any act of cruelty or +wanton offence. He was as cool and self-possessed under the blaze +and dazzle of fame as a common man would be under the shade of his +garden-tree, or by the hearth of his home. But the tyrant who kept +Europe in awe is now a pitiable object for scorn to point the +finger of derision at: and humanity shudders as it remembers the +scourge with which this man's ambition was permitted to devastate +every home tie, and every heartfelt joy." + + +And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflections +and pious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall +only quot one little extrak more:-- + + +"All goes gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell +told me she regrets not seeing all these curious personages; but +she says, the more the princess is forsaken, the more happy she is +at having offered to attend her at this time. THIS IS VERY AMIABLE +IN HER, and cannot fail to be gratifying to the princess." + + +So it is--wery amiable, wery kind and considerate in her, indeed. +Poor Princess! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you for +your own sake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its back +kep steady to you. As for believing that Lady Sharlot had any hand +in this book,* heaven forbid! she is all gratitude, pure gratitude, +depend upon it. SHE would not go for to blacken her old frend and +patron's carrickter, after having been so outrageously faithful to +her; SHE wouldn't do it, at no price, depend upon it. How sorry +she must be that others an't quite so squemish, and show up in this +indesent way the follies of her kind, genrus, foolish bennyfactris! + + +* The "authorized" announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets +this question at rest. It is declared that her ladyship is not the +writer of the Diary.--O. Y. + + + + +EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. + + +CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. + +JOHN THOMAS SMITH, ESQ., TO C--S Y--H, ESQ. + + +NOTUS. + + +The suckmstansies of the following harticle are as follos:--Me and +my friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each other in the +Haymarket Theatre, during the performints of the new play. I was +settn in the gallery, and sung out to him (he was in the pit), to +jine us after the play, over a glass of bear and a cold hoyster, in +my pantry, the family being out. + +Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of the comady; +and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a letter to +the other, giving our notiums of the pease. Paper was brought that +momint; and Smith writing his harticle across the knife-bord, I +dasht off mine on the dresser. + +Our agreement was, that I (being remarkabble for my style of +riting) should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up +with the plot of the play; and the candied reader will parding me +for having holtered the original address of my letter, and directed +it to Sir Edward himself; and for having incopperated Smith's +remarks in the midst of my own:-- + + +MAYFAIR, Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite. + +HONRABBLE BARNET!--Retired from the littery world a year or moar, I +didn't think anythink would injuice me to come forrards again: for +I was content with my share of reputation, and propoas'd to add +nothink to those immortial wux which have rendered this Magaseen so +sallybrated. + +Shall I tell you the reazn of my re-appearants?--a desire for the +benefick of my fellow-creatures? Fiddlestick! A mighty truth with +which my busm labored, and which I must bring forth or die? +Nonsince--stuff: money's the secret, my dear Barnet,--money-- +l'argong, gelt, spicunia. Here's quarter-day coming, and I'm blest +if I can pay my landlud, unless I can ad hartificially to my inkum. + +This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to blacard +the streets with it, or to tell the British public that Fitzroy +Y-ll-wpl-sh is short of money, or that the sallybrated hauthor of +the Y--- Papers is in peskewniary difficklties, or is fiteagued by +his superhuman littery labors, or by his famly suckmstansies, or by +any other pusnal matter: my maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be +as quiet as posbile. What the juice does the public care for you or +me? Why must we always, in prefizzes and what not, be a-talking +about ourselves and our igstrodnary merrats, woas, and injaries? It +is on this subjick that I porpies, my dear Barnet, to speak to you +in a frendly way; and praps you'll find my advise tolrabbly holesum. + +Well, then,--if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil, of +us poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like you, +Barnet. I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entry nou, that +last stoary I roat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir as +ever was)--I've had my fling at you; but I like you. One may +objeck to an immense deal of your writings, which, betwigst you and +me, contain more sham scentiment, sham morallaty, sham poatry, than +you'd like to own; but, in spite of this, there's the STUFF in you: +you've a kind and loyal heart in you, Barnet--a trifle deboshed, +perhaps; a kean i, igspecially for what's comic (as for your +tradgady, it's mighty flatchulent), and a ready plesnt pen. The +man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don't believe him, +Barnet! not that I suppose you wil,--for, if I've formed a correck +apinion of you from your wucks, you think your small-beear as good +as most men's: every man does,--and why not? We brew, and we love +our own tap--amen; but the pint betwigst us, is this stewpid, +absudd way of crying out, because the public don't like it too. +Why shood they, my dear Barnet? You may vow that they are fools; +or that the critix are your enemies; or that the wuld should judge +your poams by your critticle rules, and not their own: you may beat +your breast, and vow you are a marter, and you won't mend the +matter. Take heart, man! you're not so misrabble after all: your +spirits need not be so VERY cast down; you are not so VERY badly +paid. I'd lay a wager that you make, with one thing or another-- +plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and there-- +your three thowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig that +works for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you? Three +thowsnd a year is no such bad thing,--let alone the barnetcy: it +must be a great comfort to have that bloody hand in your skitching. + +But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and +fond of a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints,--this +ceaseless groning, and moning, and wining of yours, is igsackly the +thing which makes people laff and snear more? If you were ever at +a great school, you must recklect who was the boy most bullid, and +buffited, and purshewd--he who minded it most. He who could take a +basting got but few; he who rord and wep because the knotty boys +called him nicknames, was nicknamed wuss and wuss. I recklect +there was at our school, in Smithfield, a chap of this milksop, +spoony sort, who appeared among the romping, ragged fellers in a +fine flanning dressing-gownd, that his mama had given him. That +pore boy was beaten in a way that his dear ma and aunts didn't know +him; his fine flanning dressing-gownd was torn all to ribbings, and +he got no pease in the school ever after, but was abliged to be +taken to some other saminary, where, I make no doubt, he was paid +off igsactly in the same way. + +Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet? Mutayto nominy--you +know what I mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy is the +dressing-gownd. You dress yourself out finer than other chaps and +they all begin to sault and hustle you; it's human nature, Barnet. +You show weakness, think of your dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry: +it's all over with you; the whole school is at you--upper boys and +under, big and little; the dirtiest little fag in the place will +pipe out blaggerd names at you, and takes his pewny tug at your +tail. + +The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of stowt +shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggymuffins. A +good bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, "Wha dares meddle wi' +me?" When Scott got HIS barnetcy, for instans, did any one of us +cry out? No, by the laws, he was our master; and wo betide the +chap that said neigh to him! But there's barnets and barnets. Do +you recklect that fine chapter in "Squintin Durward," about the too +fellos and cups, at the siege of the bishop's castle? One of them +was a brave warner, and kep HIS cup; they strangled the other chap-- +strangled him, and laffed at him too. + +With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice: brazen +it out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of schoolboys-- +childish, greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always ready +to fight. What must be a man's conduck among such? He must either +take no notis, and pass on myjastick, or else turn round and pummle +soundly--one, two, right and left, ding dong over the face and +eyes; above all, never acknowledge that he is hurt. Years ago, for +instans (we've no ill-blood, but only mention this by way of +igsample), you began a sparring with this Magaseen. Law bless you, +such a ridicklus gaym I never see: a man so belaybord, beflustered, +bewolloped, was never known; it was the laff of the whole town. +Your intelackshal natur, respected Barnet, is not fizzickly +adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You must not +indulge in combats with us course bullies of the press: you have +not the STAMINY for a reglar set-to. What, then, is your plan? In +the midst of the mob to pass as quiet as you can: you won't be +undistubbed. Who is? Some stray kix and buffits will fall to you-- +mortial man is subjick to such; but if you begin to wins and cry +out, and set up for a marter, wo betide you! + +These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure +you, written in perfick good-natur, and have been inspired by your +play of the "Sea Capting," and prefiz to it; which latter is on +matters intirely pusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this +kind of ad hominam (as they say) disk-cushion. I propose, honrabble +Barnit, to cumsider calmly this play and prephiz, and to speak of +both with that honisty which, in the pantry or studdy, I've been +always phamous for. Let us, in the first place, listen to the +opening of the "Preface of the Fourth Edition:" + + +"No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults and +deficiencies to be found in this play; but, perhaps, when it is +considered how very rarely it has happened in the history of our +dramatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, +except by those who have either been actors themselves, or formed +their habits of literature, almost of life, behind the scenes, I +might have looked for a criticism more generous, and less exacting +and rigorous, than that by which the attempts of an author +accustomed to another class of composition have been received by a +large proportion of the periodical press. + +"It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain +faults of two kinds, first, the faults of one who has necessarily +much to learn in the mechanism of his art; and, secondly, of one +who, having written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may +not unfrequently mistake the effects of a novel for the effects of +a drama. I may add to these, perhaps, the deficiencies that arise +from uncertain health and broken spirits, which render the author +more susceptible than he might have been some years since to that +spirit of depreciation and hostility which it has been his +misfortune to excite amongst the general contributors to the +periodical press for the consciousness that every endeavor will be +made to cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in fine, if +possible, to RUN DOWN, will occasionally haunt even the hours of +composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. + +"Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope +that I may ultimately do better, should I continue to write for the +stage (which nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I +may yet bring some little aid to the drama, at a time when any aid, +however humble, ought to be welcome to the lovers of the art, could +induce me to do), may I be permitted to say a few words as to some +of the objections which have been made against this play?" + + +Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put +forrards here, why your play shouldn't be good. + +First. Good plays are almost always written by actors. + +Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. + +Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by +trade, and not a play-writer. + +Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. + +Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. + +For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these,--what painful +pewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven +or eight and thutty years old--"in the morning of youth," as the +flosofer says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn +prisoner. What, you, an old hand amongst us,--an old soljer of our +sovring quean the press,--you, who have had the best pay, have held +the topmost rank (ay, and DESERVED them too!--I gif you lef to quot +me in sasiaty, and say, "I AM a man of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says +so"),--you to lose heart, and cry pickavy, and begin to howl, +because little boys fling stones at you! Fie, man! take courage; +and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, as the poet says, +punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man, or bear your +own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such +misrabble lodgic as that above. + +What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is +bad (the secknd is naught,--for your no such chicking at play- +writing, this being the forth). You show that the play must be +bad, and THEN begin to deal with the critix for finding folt! + +Was there ever wuss generalship? The play IS bad,--your right--a +wuss I never see or read. But why kneed YOU say so? If it was so +VERY bad, why publish it? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO SERVE THE DRAMA! +O fie! don't lay that flattering function to your sole, as Milton +observes. Do you believe that this "Sea Capting" can serve the +drama? Did you never intend that it should serve anything, or +anybody ELSE? Of cors you did! You wrote it for money,--money +from the maniger, money from the bookseller,--for the same reason +that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very same +reasons, and I never heard that he bragged about serving the drama. +Away with this canting about great motifs! Let us not be too +prowd, my dear Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, +marters or apostels. We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and +not for righteousness' sake. Let's try and work honestly; but +don't let us be prayting pompisly about our "sacred calling." The +taylor who makes your coats (and very well they are made too, with +the best of velvit collars)--I say Stulze, or Nugee, might cry out +that THEIR motifs were but to assert the eturnle truth of +tayloring, with just as much reazn; and who would believe them? + +Well; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come sefral +pages of attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry have found +with it. With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You defend +all the characters 1 by 1, and conclude your remarks as follows:-- + + +"I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs. When +every means is employed to misrepresent, it becomes, perhaps, +allowable to explain. And if I do not think that my faults as a +dramatic author are to be found in the study and delineation of +character, it is precisely because THAT is the point on which all +my previous pursuits in literature and actual life would be most +likely to preserve me from the errors I own elsewhere, whether of +misjudgment or inexperience. + +"I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and +talent with which they have embodied the characters entrusted to +them. The sweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit embellished +the part of Violet, which, though only a sketch, is most necessary +to the coloring and harmony of the play, were perhaps the more +pleasing to the audience from the generosity, rare with actors, +which induced her to take a part so far inferior to her powers. +The applause which attends the performance of Mrs. Warner and Mr. +Strickland attests their success in characters of unusual +difficulty; while the singular beauty and nobleness, whether of +conception or execution, with which the greatest of living actors +has elevated the part of Norman (so totally different from his +ordinary range of character), is a new proof of his versatility and +accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be +scarcely gracious to conclude these remarks without expressing my +acknowledgment of that generous and indulgent sense of justice +which, forgetting all political differences in a literary arena, +has enabled me to appeal to approving audiences--from hostile +critics. And it is this which alone encourages me to hope that, +sooner or later, I may add to the dramatic literature of my country +something that may find, perhaps, almost as many friends in the +next age as it has been the fate of the author to find enemies in +this." + + +See, now, what a good comfrabble vanaty is! Pepple have quarld +with the dramatic characters of your play. "No," says you; "if I +AM remarkabble for anythink, it's for my study and delineation of +character; THAT is presizely the pint to which my littery purshuits +have led me." Have you read "Jil Blaw," my dear sir? Have you +pirouzed that exlent tragady, the "Critic?" There's something so +like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and the Archbishop of Granadiers, +that I'm blest if I can't laff till my sides ake. Think of the +critix fixing on the very pint for which you are famus!--the roags! +And spose they had said the plot was absudd, or the langwitch +absudder still, don't you think you would have had a word in defens +of them too--you who hope to find frends for your dramatic wux in +the nex age? Poo! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will be +wiser and better than this; and do you think that it will imply +itself a reading of your trajadies? This is misantrofy, Barnet-- +reglar Byronism; and you ot to have a better apinian of human +natur. + +Your apinion about the actors I shan't here meddle with. They all +acted exlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your write +in giving them all possible prays. But let's consider the last +sentence of the prefiz, my dear Barnet, and see what a pretty set +of apiniuns you lay down. + +1. The critix are your inymies in this age. + +2. In the nex, however, you hope to find newmrous frends. + +3. And it's a satisfackshn to think that, in spite of politticle +diffrances, you have found frendly aujences here. + +Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with what my +friend Father Prout calls an argamantum ad misericorjam, who +ignowledges that his play is bad, that his pore dear helth is bad, +and those cussid critix have played the juice with him--I say, for +a man who beginns in such a humbill toan, it's rather RICH to see +how you end. + +My dear Barnet, DO you suppose that POLITTICLE DIFFRANCES prejudice +pepple against YOU? What ARE your politix? Wig, I presume--so are +mine, ontry noo. And what if they ARE Wig, or Raddiccle, or +Cumsuvvative? Does any mortial man in England care a phig for your +politix? Do you think yourself such a mity man in parlymint, that +critix are to be angry with you, and aujences to be cumsidered +magnanamous because they treat you fairly? There, now, was +Sherridn, he who roat the "Rifles" and "School for Scandle" (I saw +the "Rifles" after your play, and, O Barnet, if you KNEW what a +relief it was!)--there, I say, was Sherridn--he WAS a politticle +character, if you please--he COULD make a spitch or two--do you +spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third +himself, wooden go to see the "Rivles"--ay, and clap hands too, and +laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery? Do you spose the critix +wouldn't applaud too? For shame, Barnet! what ninnis, what +hartless raskles, you must beleave them to be,--in the fust plase, +to fancy that you are a politticle genus; in the secknd, to let +your politix interfear with their notiums about littery merits! + +"Put that nonsince out of your head," as Fox said to Bonypart. +Wasn't it that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff and Poop's +time, who fansid that the French king wooden make pease unless +Dennis was delivered up to him? Upon my wud, I doan't think he +carrid his diddlusion much further than a serting honrabble barnet +of my aquentance. + +And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another +diddlusion; a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not Y--sh. +These plays immortial? Ah, parrysampe, as the French say, this is +too strong--the small-beer of the "Sea Capting," or of any suxessor +of the "Sea Capting," to keep sweet for sentries and sentries! +Barnet, Barnet! do you know the natur of bear? Six weeks is not +past, and here your last casque is sour--the public won't even now +drink it; and I lay a wager that, betwigst this day (the thuttieth +November) and the end of the year, the barl will be off the stox +altogether, never, never to return. + +I've notted down a few frazes here and there, which you will do +well do igsamin:-- + + + NORMAN. + + "The eternal Flora + Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind; + While circling round and upwards from the boughs, + Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, + Melody, like a happy soul released, + Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes + Shakes sweetness down!" + + + NORMAN. + + "And these the lips + Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss + Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left + By ANGELS when they touch the earth and vanish." + + + NORMAN. + + "Hark! she has blessed her son! I bid ye witness, + Ye listening heavens--thou circumambient air: + The ocean sighs it back--and with the murmur + Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes + Aloud--aloft--to the Great Parent's ear, + The blessing of the mother on her child." + + + NORMAN. + + "I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart + Mingled with mine--a deathless heritage, + Which I can take unsullied to the STARS, + When the Great Father calls his children home." + + + NORMAN. + + "The blue air, breathless in the STARRY peace, + After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled + With happy thoughts as heaven with ANGELS." + + + NORMAN. + + "Till one calm night, when over earth and wave + Heaven looked its love from all its numberless STARS." + + + NORMAN. + + "Those eyes, the guiding STARS by which I steered." + + + NORMAN. + + "That great mother + (The only parent I have known), whose face + Is bright with gazing ever on the STARS-- + The mother-sea." + + + NORMAN. + + "My bark shall be our home; + The STARS that light the ANGEL palaces + Of air, our lamps." + + + NORMAN. + + "A name that glitters, like a STAR, amidst + The galaxy of England's loftiest born." + + + LADY ARUNDEL. + + "And see him princeliest of the lion tribe, + Whose swords and coronals gleam around the throne, + The guardian STARS of the imperial isle." + + +The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the papers, as +real, reglar poatry. Those wickid critix! they must have been +laffing in their sleafs when they quoted it. Malody, suckling +round and uppards from the bows, like a happy soul released, hangs +in the air, and from invizable plumes shakes sweetness down. +Mighty fine, truly! but let mortial man tell the meannink of the +passidge. Is it MUSICKLE sweetniss that Malody shakes down from +its plumes--its wings, that is, or tail--or some pekewliar scent +that proceeds from happy souls released, and which they shake down +from the trees when they are suckling round and uppards? IS this +poatry, Barnet? Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly: +Is it poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, +and won't bear the commanest test of comman sence? + +In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though in a +more comprehensable way: the air, the leaves, the otion, are fild +with emocean at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore Nature is dragged +in to partisapate in his joys, just as she has been befor. Once in +a poem, this universle simfithy is very well; but once is enuff, my +dear Barnet: and that once should be in some great suckmstans, +surely,--such as the meeting of Adam and Eve, in "Paradice Lost," +or Jewpeter and Jewno, in Hoamer, where there seems, as it were, a +reasn for it. But sea-captings should not be eternly spowting and +invoking gods, hevns, starrs, angels, and other silestial +influences. We can all do it, Barnet; nothing in life is esier. I +can compare my livry buttons to the stars, or the clouds of my +backopipe to the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna; or I can +say that angels are looking down from them, and the tobacco silf, +like a happy sole released, is circling round and upwards, and +shaking sweetness down. All this is as esy as drink; but it's not +poatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers reckonize +them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, and paws to think of +the happy leaves a-rustling--at least, one mistrusts them if they +do. Take another instans out of your own play. Capting Norman +(with his eternil SLACK-JAW!) meets the gal of his art:-- + + + "Look up, look up, my Violet--weeping? fie! + And trembling too--yet leaning on my breast. + In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter. + Look up! I come to woo thee to the seas, + My sailor's bride! Hast thou no voice but blushes? + Nay--From those roses let me, like the bee, + Drag forth the secret sweetness! + + + VIOLET. + + "Oh what thoughts + Were kept for SPEECH when we once more should meet, + Now blotted from the PAGE; and all I feel + Is--THOU art with me!" + + +Very right, Miss Violet--the scentiment is natral, affeckshnit, +pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge, +and no harm done); but never mind, the feeling is pritty; and I can +fancy, my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weeping lass, looking up +in a man's face and saying it. But the capting!--oh, this +capting!--this windy, spouting captain, with his prittinesses, and +conseated apollogies for the hardness of his busm, and his old, +stale, vapid simalies, and his wishes to be a bee! Pish! Men +don't make love in this finniking way. It's the part of a +sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a galliant gentleman, in command +of one of her Madjisty's vessels of war. + +Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknollidge that +Capting Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with his endless +jabber about stars and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist +of Lady Arundel's spitch, too, who, in the corse of three lines, +has made her son a prince, a lion, with a sword and coronal, and a +star. Why jumble and sheak up metafors in this way? Barnet, one +simily is quite enuff in the best of sentenses (and I preshume I +kneedn't tell you that it's as well to have it LIKE, when you are +about it). Take my advise, honrabble sir--listen to a humble +footmin: it's genrally best in poatry to understand puffickly +what you mean yourself, and to ingspress your meaning clearly +afterwoods--in the simpler words the better, praps. You may, for +instans, call a coronet a coronal (an "ancestral coronal," p. 74) +if you like, as you might call a hat a "swart sombrero," "a glossy +four-and-nine," "a silken helm, to storm impermeable, and lightsome +as the breezy gossamer;" but, in the long run, it's as well to call +it a hat. It IS a hat; and that name is quite as poetticle as +another. I think it's Playto, or els Harrystottle, who observes +that what we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. +Confess, now, dear Barnet, don't you long to call it a Polyanthus? + +I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry you +seem to have bean, that you have actially in some sentences forgot +to put in the sence. What is this, for instance?-- + + + "This thrice precious one + Smiled to my eyes--drew being from my breast-- + Slept in my arms;--the very tears I shed + Above my treasures were to men and angels + Alike such holy sweetness!" + + +In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked--Raphael, +Gabriel, Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael--what does this "holy sweetness" +mean? We're not spinxes to read such durk conandrums. If you knew +my state sins I came upon this passidg--I've neither slep nor eton; +I've neglected my pantry; I've been wandring from house to house +with this riddl in my hand, and nobody can understand it. All Mr. +Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomy at one another, and asking +what this may be. All the cumtributors have been spoak to. The +Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried and giv'n up; we've +sent to Docteur Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics a deal ezier than +my way of spellin'--no anser. Quick! quick with a fifth edition, +honored Barnet, and set us at rest! While your about it, please, +too, to igsplain the two last lines:-- + + + "His merry bark with England's flag to crown her." + + +See what dellexy of igspreshn, "a flag to crown her!" + + + "His merry bark with England's flag to crown her, + Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares." + + +Likewise the following:-- + + + "Girl, beware, + THE LOVE THAT TRIFLES ROUND THE CHARMS IT GILDS + OFT RUINS WHILE IT SHINES." + + +Igsplane this, men and angels! I've tried every way; backards, +forards, and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus:-- + + + The love that ruins round the charms it shines, + Gilds while it trifles oft; + +Or, + + The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, + Oft trifles while it shines; + +Or, + + The ruins that love gilds and shines around, + Oft trifles where it charms; + +Or, + + Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, + The trifles that it gilds; + +Or, + + The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, + While round the charms it shines. + + +All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. + +And with this I'll alow my friend Smith, who has been silent all +this time, to say a few words. He has not written near so much as +me (being an infearor genus, betwigst ourselves), but he says he +never had such mortial difficklty with anything as with the +dixcripshn of the plott of your pease. Here his letter:-- + + +To CH-RL-S F-TZR-Y PL-NT-G-N-T Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., &c. &c. + +30th Nov. 1839. + +MY DEAR AND HONORED SIR,--I have the pleasure of laying before you +the following description of the plot, and a few remarks upon the +style of the piece called "The Sea Captain." + +Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a daughter, +heiress of his estates and property; a poor cousin, Sir Maurice +Beevor (being next in succession); and a page, Arthur Le Mesnil by +name. + +The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young persons were +married unknown to his lordship. + +Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that period +favorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed to run away +together, and had reached a chapel near on the sea-coast, from +which they were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put a stop to +their proceedings by causing one Gaussen, a pirate, to murder the +page. + +His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three days, +gave birth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of this birth I +cannot say; the infant, however, was never acknowledged, but +carried by Sir Maurice Beevor to a priest, Onslow by name, who +educated the lad and kept him for twelve years in profound +ignorance of his birth. The boy went by the name of Norman. + +Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a widow, but had +a second son, who was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord +Ashdale. Old Lord Arundel died, and her ladyship became countess +in her own right. + +When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who wished +to "WAFT young Arthur to a distant land," had him sent on board +ship. Who should the captain of the ship be but Gaussen, who +received a smart bribe from Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the lad. +Accordingly, Gaussen tied him to a plank, and pitched him overboard. + + . . . . . . + +About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan +niece of Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass a few weeks +with her ladyship. She had just come from a sea-voyage, and had +been saved from a wicked Algerine by an English sea captain. This +sea captain was no other than Norman, who had been picked up off +his plank, and fell in love with, and was loved by, Miss Violet. + +A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain came +to pay her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady +Arundel's residence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue +Gaussen's ship anchored in the harbor too. Gaussen at once knew +his man, for he had "tracked" him, (after drowning him,) and he +informed Sir Maurice Beevor that young Norman was alive. + +Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should she get rid +of him? In this wise. He was in love with Violet, let him marry +her and be off; for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin too; +and, of course, could not marry a young woman in her station of +life. "You have a chaplain on board," says her ladyship to Captain +Norman; "let him attend to-night in the ruined chapel, marry +Violet, and away with you to sea." By this means she hoped to be +quit of him forever. + +But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor, +and reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel +and carry off Violet; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel +to kill both Ashdale and Norman; thus there would only be Lady +Arundel between him and the title. + +Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the chapel, had +just seen his worthy old friend, the priest, most barbarously +murdered there. Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon him; his +reverence was coming with the papers concerning Norman's birth, +which Beevor wanted in order to extort money from the countess. +Gaussen was, however, obliged to run before he got the papers; and +the clergyman had time, before he died, to tell Norman the story, +and give him the documents, with which Norman sped off to the +castle to have an interview with his mother. + +He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to be left +alone with her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room, surlily +quits it; but, going out, cunningly puts on Norman's cloak. "It +will be dark," says he, "down at the chapel; Violet won't know me; +and, egad! I'll run off with her!" + +Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges him, for she +cannot help it; but will not embrace him, love him, or have +anything to do with him. + +Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there waiting to +marry him to Violet, his boat was there to carry him on board his +ship, and Violet was there, too. + +"Norman," says she, in the dark, "dear Norman, I knew you by your +white cloak; here I am." And she and the man in a cloak go off to +the inner chapel to be married. + +There waits Master Gaussen; he has seized the chaplain and the +boat's crew, and is just about to murder the man in the cloak, +when-- + +NORMAN rushes in and cuts him down, much to the surprise of Miss, +for she never suspected it was sly Ashdale who had come, as we have +seen, disguised, and very nearly paid for his masquerading. + +Ashdale is very grateful; but, when Norman persists in marrying +Violet, he says--no, he shan't. He shall fight; he is a coward if +he doesn't fight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he WON'T +fight; and-- + +Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rushing in, +says, "Hold! this is your brother, Percy--your elder brother!" +Here is some restiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by +embracing his brother. + +Norman burns all the papers; vows he will never peach; reconciles +himself with his mother; says he will go loser; but, having ordered +his ship to "veer" round to the chapel, orders it to veer back +again, for he will pass the honeymoon at Arundel Castle. + +As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that +there are one or two very good notions in this plot. But the +author does not fail, as he would modestly have us believe, from +ignorance of stage-business; he seems to know too much, rather than +too little, about the stage; to be too anxious to cram in effects, +incidents, perplexities. There is the perplexity concerning +Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and the priest's murder, and +the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. There is the perplexity +about the papers, and that about the hat and cloak, (a silly, +foolish obstacle,) which only tantalize the spectator, and retard +the march of the drama's action: it is as if the author had said, +"I must have a new incident in every act, I must keep tickling the +spectator perpetually, and never let him off until the fall of the +curtain." + +The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of intrigue you +may remark in the author's drama of "Richelieu." "The Lady of +Lyons" was a much simpler and better wrought plot; the incidents +following each other either not too swiftly or startlingly. In +"Richelieu," it always seemed to me as if one heard doors +perpetually clapping and banging; one was puzzled to follow the +train of conversation, in the midst of the perpetual small noises +that distracted one right and left. + +Nor is the list of characters of "The Sea Captain" to be despised. +The outlines of all of them are good. A mother, for whom one feels +a proper tragic mixture of hatred and pity; a gallant single- +hearted son, whom she disdains, and who conquers her at last by his +noble conduct; a dashing haughty Tybalt of a brother; a wicked poor +cousin, a pretty maid, and a fierce buccaneer. These people might +pass three hours very well on the stage, and interest the audience +hugely; but the author fails in filling up the outlines. His +language is absurdly stilted, frequently careless; the reader or +spectator hears a number of loud speeches, but scarce a dozen lines +that seem to belong of nature to the speakers. + +Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the +continual sham-religious clap-traps which the author has put into +the mouth of his hero; nothing more unsailor-like than his namby- +pamby starlit descriptions, which my ingenious colleague has, I +see, alluded to. "Thy faith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven," +cries the gallant captain to his lady. See how loosely the +sentence is constructed, like a thousand others in the book. The +captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faith in her own eyes; +either image might pass by itself, but together, like the +quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The captain tells +his lieutenant to BID HIS BARK VEER ROUND to a point in the harbor. +Was ever such language? My lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand +pounds to WAFT him (her son) to some distant shore. Nonsense, +sheer nonsense; and what is worse, affected nonsense! + +Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. "There is a great deal of +game on the estate--partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and +plovers (SMACKING HIS LIPS)--besides a magnificent preserve of +sparrows, which I can sell TO THE LITTLE BLACKGUARDS in the streets +at a penny a hundred. But I am very poor--a very poor old knight!" + +Is this wit or nature? It is a kind of sham wit; it reads as if it +were wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the little +blackguard boys! what flimsy ecstasies and silly "smacking of lips" +about the plovers. Is this the man who writes for the next age? +O fie! Here is another joke:-- + + + "Sir Maurice. Mice! zounds, how can I + Keep mice! I can't afford it! They were starved + To death an age ago. The last was found + Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone + In that same larder, so consumed and worn + By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it! + I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, + And set it in the porch--a solemn warning + To thieves and beggars!" + + +Is not this rare wit? "Zounds! how can I keep mice?" is well +enough for a miser; not too new, or brilliant either; but this +miserable dilution of a thin joke, this wretched hunting down of +the poor mouse! It is humiliating to think of a man of esprit +harping so long on such a mean, pitiful string. A man who aspires +to immortality, too! I doubt whether it is to be gained thus; +whether our author's words are not too loosely built to make +"starry pointing pyramids of." Horace clipped and squared his +blocks more carefully before he laid the monument which imber edax, +or aquila impotens, or fuga temporum might assail in vain. Even +old Ovid, when he raised his stately, shining heathen temple, had +placed some columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two which +deserved the immortality that he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) +for himself. But let not all be looking forward to a future, and +fancying that, "incerti spatium dum finiat aevi," our books are to +be immortal. Alas! the way to immortality is not so easy, nor will +our "Sea Captain" be permitted such an unconscionable cruise. If +all the immortalities were really to have their wish, what a work +would our descendants have to study them all! + +Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet achieved +this deathless consummation. There will come a day (may it be long +distant!) when the very best of his novels will be forgotten; and +it is reasonable to suppose that his dramas will pass out of +existence, some time or other, in the lapse of the secula +seculorum. In the meantime, my dear Plush, if you ask me what the +great obstacle is towards the dramatic fame and merit of our +friend, I would say that it does not lie so much in hostile critics +or feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, and a peevish +vanity which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. The +question of original capacity I will not moot; one may think very +highly of the honorable baronet's talent, without rating it quite +so high as he seems disposed to do. + +And to conclude: as he has chosen to combat the critics in person, +the critics are surely justified in being allowed to address him +directly. + + With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, + I have the honor to be, dear Sir, + Your most faithful and obliged + humble servant, + JOHN THOMAS SMITH. + + +And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I think I can't do better +than clothes mine lickwise; for though I should never be tired of +talking, praps the public may of hearing, and therefore it's best +to shut up shopp. + +What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take unkind. A +play, you see, is public property for every one to say his say on; +and I think, if you read your prefez over agin, you'll see that it +ax as a direct incouridgment to us critix to come forrard and +notice you. But don't fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiated +by hostillaty; fust write a good play, and you'll see we'll prays +it fast enuff. Waiting which, Agray, Munseer le Chevaleer, +l'ashurance de ma hot cumsideratun. + +Voter distangy, + +Y. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext of Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush + diff --git a/old/ylopl10.zip b/old/ylopl10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0011cbc --- /dev/null +++ b/old/ylopl10.zip |