"Oh, lassy me! love, no doubt, and the moon, and eyes, and nightingales, and——"
Stay; stay, my sweet young lady; do not let the fervour of your feelings run away with you! I do not pretend to say, indeed, that one or more of these pretty subjects might not have been introduced; but the most important and leading topic of the conference was—Lieutenant Seaforth's breeches.
"Caroline," said Charles, "I have had some very odd dreams since have been at Tappington."
"Dreams, have you?" smiled the young lady, arching her taper neck like a swan in pluming. "Dreams, have you?"
"Ay, dreams,—or dream, perhaps, I should say; for, though repeated, it was still the same. And what do you imagine was its subject?"
"It is impossible for me to divine," said the tongue; "I have not the least difficulty in guessing," said the eye, as plainly as ever eye spoke.
"I dreamt of—your great grandfather!"
There was a change in the glance—"My great grandfather?"
"Yes, the old Sir Giles, or Sir John, you told me about the other day: he walked into my bedroom in his short cloak of murrey-coloured velvet, his long rapier, and his Ralegh-looking hat and feather, just as this picture represents him; but with one exception."
"And what was that?"
"Why, his lower extremities, which were visible, were—those of a skeleton."
"Well!"
"Well, after taking a turn or two about the room, and looking round him with a wistful air, he came to the bed's foot, stared at me in a manner impossible to describe,—and then he—he laid hold of my pantaloons, whipped his long bony legs into them in a twinkling, and, strutting up to the glass, seemed to view himself in it with great complacency. I tried to speak, but in vain. The effort, however, seemed to excite his attention; for, wheeling about, he showed me the grimmest-looking death's head you can well imagine, and with an indescribable grin strutted out of the room."
"Absurd, Charles! How can you talk such nonsense?"
"But, Caroline,—the breeches are really gone!"
On the following morning, contrary to his usual custom, Seaforth was the first person in the breakfast-parlour. As no one else was present, he did precisely what nine young men out of ten so situated would have done; he walked up to the mantelpiece, established himself upon the rug, and subducting his coat-tails one under each arm, turned towards the fire that portion of the human frame which it is considered equally indecorous to present to a friend or an enemy. Aserious, not to say anxious, expression was visible upon his good-humoured countenance, and his mouth was fast buttoning itself up for an incipient whistle, when little Flo, a tiny spaniel of the Blenheim breed,—the pet object of Miss Julia Simpkinson's affections,—bounced out from beneath a sofa, and began to bark at—his pantaloons.
They were cleverly "built," of a light grey mixture, a broad stripe of the most vivid scarlet traversing each seam in a perpendicular direction from hip to ancle,—in short, the regimental costume of the Royal Bombay Fencibles. The animal, educated in the country, had never seen such a pair of breeches in her life—Omne ignotum pro magnifico!The scarlet streak, inflamed as it was by the reflection of the fire, seemed to act on Flora's nerves as the same colour does on those of bulls and turkeys, she advanced at thepas de charge; and her vociferation, like her amazement, was unbounded. A sound kick from the disgusted officer changed its character, and induced a retreat at the very moment when the mistress of the pugnacious quadruped entered to the rescue.
"Lassy me! Flo! whatisthe matter?" cried the sympathising lady, with a scrutinizing glance levelled at the gentleman.
It might as well have lighted on a feather-bed.—His air of imperturbable unconsciousness defied examination; and as he would not, and Flora could not, expound, that injured individual was compelled to pocket up her wrongs. Others of the household soon dropped in, and clustered round the board dedicated to the most sociable of meals; the urn was paraded "hissing hot," and the cups which "cheer, but not inebriate," steamed redolent of hyson and pekoe; muffins and marmalade, newspapers and Finnon haddies, left little room for observation on the character of Charles's warlike "turn-out." At length a look from Caroline, followed by a smile that nearly ripened to a titter, caused him to turn abruptly and address his neighbour. It was Miss Simpkinson, who, deeply engaged in sipping her tea and turning over her album, seemed, like a female Chrononotonthologos, "immersed in congibundity of cogitation." An interrogatory on the subject of her studies drew from her the confession that she was at that moment employed in putting the finishing touches to a poem inspired by the romantic shades of Bolsover. The entreaties of the company were of course urgent. Mr. Peters, who "liked verses," was especially persevering, and Sappho at length compliant. After a preparatory hem! and a glance at the mirror to ascertain that her look was sufficiently sentimental, the poetess began:—
"There is a calm, a holy feeling,Vulgar minds can never know,O'er the bosom softly stealing,—Chasten'd grief, delicious woe!Oh! how sweet at eve regainingYon lone tower's sequester'd shade—Sadly mute and uncomplaining——"
"There is a calm, a holy feeling,Vulgar minds can never know,O'er the bosom softly stealing,—Chasten'd grief, delicious woe!Oh! how sweet at eve regainingYon lone tower's sequester'd shade—Sadly mute and uncomplaining——"
—Yow!—yeough!—yeough!—yow!—yow! yelled a hapless sufferer from beneath the table.—It was an unlucky hour for quadrupeds; and if "every dog will have his day," he could not have selected a more unpropitious one than this. Mrs. Ogleton, too, had a pet,—a favourite pug,—whose squab figure, black muzzle, and tortuosity of tail, that curled like a head of celery in a salad-bowl, bespoke his Dutch extraction. Yow! yow! yow! continued the brute,—a chorus in which Floinstantly joined. Sooth to say, pug had more reason to express his dissatisfaction than was given him by the muse of Simpkinson; the other only barked for company. Scarcely had the poetess got through her first stanza, when Tom Ingoldsby, in the enthusiasm of the moment, became so lost to the material world, that, in his abstraction, he unwarily laid his hand on the cock of the urn. Quivering with emotion, he gave it such an unlucky twist, that the full stream of its scalding contents descended on the gingerbread hide of the unlucky Cupid. The confusion was complete; the whole economy of the table disarranged; the company broke up in most admired disorder; and "vulgar minds will never know" anything more of Miss Simpkinson's ode till they peruse it in some forthcoming annual.
Seaforth profited by the confusion to take the delinquent who had caused this "stramash" by the arm, and to lead him to the lawn, where he had a word or two for his private ear. The conference between the young gentlemen was neither brief in its duration, nor unimportant in its result. The subject was what the lawyers call tripartite, embracing the information that Charles Seaforth was over head and ears in love with Tom Ingoldsby's sister; secondly, that the lady had referred him to "papa" for his sanction; thirdly and lastly, his nightly visitations and consequent bereavement. At the two first items Tom smiled auspiciously; at the last he burst out into an absolute "guffaw."
"Steal your breeches? Miss Bailey over again, by Jove!" shouted Ingoldsby. "But a gentleman, you say, and Sir Giles too—I am not sure, Charles, whether I ought not to call you out for aspersing the honour of the family!"
"Laugh as you will, Tom,—be as incredulous as you please. One fact is incontestible,—the breeches are gone! Look here—I am reduced to my regimentals; and if these go, to-morrow I must borrow of you!"
Rochefoucault says, there in something in the misfortunes of our very best friends that does not displease us; certainly we can, most of us, laugh at their petty inconveniences, till called upon to supply them. Tom composed his features on the instant, and replied with more gravity, as well as with an expression, which, if my Lord Mayor had been within hearing, might have cost him five shillings.
"There is something very queer in this, after all. The clothes, you say, have positively disappeared. Somebody is playing you a trick, and, ten to one, your servant has a hand in it. By the way, I heard something yesterday of his kicking up a bobbery in the kitchen, and seeing a ghost, or something of that kind, himself. Depend upon it, Barney is in the plot!"
It struck the lieutenant at once that the usually buoyant spirits of his attendant had of late been materially sobered down, his loquacity obviously circumscribed, and that he, the said lieutenant, had actually rung his bell three several times that very morning before he could procure his attendance. Mr. Maguire was forthwith summoned, and underwent a close examination. The "bobbery" was easily explained. Mr. Oliver Dobbs had hinted his disapprobation of a flirtation carrying on between the gentleman from Munster and the lady from the Rue St. Honoré. Mademoiselle boxed Mr. Maguire's ears, and Mr. Maguire pulled Mademoiselle upon his knee, and the lady didnotcryMon Dieu!And Mr. Oliver Dobbs said it was very wrong; and Mrs.Botherby said it was scandalous, and what ought not to be done in any moral kitchen; and Mr. Maguire had got hold of the Honourable Augustus Sucklethumbkin's powder-flask, and had put large pinches of the best double Dartford into Mr. Dobbs' tobacco-box; and Mr. Dobbs' pipe had exploded and set fire to Mrs. Botherby's Sunday cap, and Mr. Maguire had put it out with the slop-basin, "barring the wig;" and then they were all so "cantankerous," that Barney had gone to take a walk in the garden; and then—then Mr. Barney had seen a ghost!
"A what? you blockhead!" asked Tom Ingoldsby.
"Sure then, and it's meself will tell your honour the rights of it," said the ghost-seer. "Meself and Miss Pauline, sir—or Miss Pauline and meself, for the ladies comes first any how,—we got tired of the hobstroppylous skrimmaging among the ould servants, that didn't know a joke when they seen one; and we went out to look at the Comet,—that's the Rory-Bory-alehouse, they calls him in this country,—and we walked upon the lawn, and divel of any alehouse there was there at all; and Miss Pauline said it was becase of the shrubbery maybe, and why wouldn't we see it better beyonst the trees? and so we went to the trees, but sorrow a Comet did meself see there, barring a big ghost instead of it."
"A ghost? And what sort of a ghost, Barney?"
"Och, then, divel a lie I'll tell your honour. A tall ould gentleman he was, all in white, with a shovel on his shoulder, and a big torch in his fist,—though what he wanted with that it's meself can't tell, for his eyes were like gig-lamps, let alone the moon and the Comet, which wasn't there at all; and 'Barney,' says he to me,—'cause why he knew me,—'Barney,' says he, 'what is it you're doing with the colleen there, Barney?' Divel a word did I say. Miss Pauline screeched, and cried murther in French, and ran off with herself; and of coorse meself was in a mighty hurry after the lady, and had no time to stop palavering with him any way; so I dispersed at once, and the ghost vanished in a flame of fire!"
Mr. Maguire's account was received with avowed incredulity by both gentlemen; but Barney stuck to his text with unflinching pertinacity. A reference to Mademoiselle was suggested, but abandoned, as neither party had a taste for delicate investigations.
"I'll tell you what, Seaforth," said Ingoldsby, after Barney had received his dismissal; "that there is a trick here, is evident; and Barney's vision may possibly be a part of it. Whether he is most knave or fool, you best know. At all events, I will sit up with you to-night, and see if I can convert my ancestor into a visiting acquaintance. Meanwhile your finger on your lip!"
"'Twas now the very witching time of night,When churchyards yawn, and graves give up their dead."
"'Twas now the very witching time of night,When churchyards yawn, and graves give up their dead."
Gladly would I grace my tale with decent horror, and therefore I do beseech the "gentle reader" to believe, that if all thesuccedaneato this mysterious narrative are not in strict keeping, he will ascribe it only to the disgraceful innovations of modern degeneracy upon the sober and dignified habits of our ancestors. I can introduce him, it is true, into an old and high-roofed chamber, its walls covered on three sides with black oak wainscoting, adorned with carvings of fruit and flowers long anterior to those of Grinling Gibbons; the fourth side is clothed with a curious remnant of dingy tapestry, once elucidatory of some Scripturalhistory, but ofwhichnot even Mrs. Botherby could determine. Mr. Simpkinson, who had examined it carefully, inclined to believe the principal figure to be either Bathsheba or Daniel in the lions' den; while Tom Ingoldsby decided in favour of the King of Bashan. All, however, was conjecture; tradition being silent on the subject. A lofty arched portal led into, and a little arched portal led out of, this apartment; they were opposite each other, and both possessed the security of massy bolts on the interior. The bedstead, too, was not one of yesterday; but manifestly coeval with days ere Seddons was, and when a good four-post "article" was deemed worthy of being a royal bequest. The bed itself, with all the appurtenances of paillasse, mattresses, &c. was of far later date, and looked most incongruously comfortable; the casements, too, with their little diamond-shaped panes and iron binding, had given way to the modern heterodoxy of the sash-window. Nor was this all that conspired to ruin the costume, and render the room a meet haunt for such "mixed spirits" only as could condescend to don at the same time an Elizabethan doublet and Bond-street inexpressibles. With their green morocco slippers on a modern fender in front of a disgracefully modern grate, sat two young gentlemen, clad in "shawl-pattern" dressing-gowns and black silk stocks, much at variance with the high cane-backed chairs which supported them. A bunch of abomination, called a cigar, reeked in the left-hand corner of the mouth of one, and in the right-hand corner of the mouth of the other;—an arrangement happily adapted for the escape of the noxious fumes up the chimney, without that unmerciful "funking" each other, which a less scientific disposition would have induced. A small pembroke table filled up the intervening space between them, sustaining, at each extremity, an elbow and glass of toddy; and thus in "lonely pensive contemplation" were the two worthies occupied, when the "iron tongue of midnight had tolled twelve."
"Ghost-time's come!" said Ingoldsby, taking from his waistcoat pocket a watch like a gold half-crown, and consulting it as though he suspected the turret-clock over the stables of mendacity.
"Hush!" said Charles; "did I not hear a footstep?"
There was a pause: therewasa footstep—it sounded distinctly—it reached the door—it hesitated, stopped, and—passed on.
Tom darted across the room, threw open the door, and became aware of Mrs. Botherby toddling to her chamber at the other end of the gallery, after dosing one of the housemaids with an approved julep from the Countess of Kent's "Choice Manual."
"Good night, sir!" said Mrs. Botherby.
"Go to the d—l!" said the disappointed ghost-hunter.
A hour—two—rolled on, and still no spectral visitation, nor did aught intervene to make night hideous; and when the turret-clock sounded at length the hour of three, Ingoldsby, whose patience and grog were alike exhausted, sprang from his chair, saying,
"This is all infernal nonsense, my good fellow. Deuce of any ghost shall we see to-night; it's long past the canonical hours. I'm off to bed; and as to your breeches, I'll ensure them for twenty-four hours at least, at the price of the buckram."
"Certainly. Oh! thankye; to be sure!" stammered Charles, rousing himself from a reverie, which had degenerated into an absolute snooze.
"Good night, my boy. Bolt the door behind me; and defy the Pope, the Devil, and the Pretender!"
Seaforth followed his friend's advice, and the next morning came down to breakfast dressed in the habiliments of the preceding day. The charm was broken, the demon defeated; the light greys with the red stripe down the seams were yet inrerum naturâ, and adorned the person of their lawful proprietor.
Tom felicitated himself and his partner of the watch on the result of their vigilance; but there is a rustic adage, which warns us against self-gratulation before we are quite "out of the wood."—Seaforth was yet within its verge.
A rap at Tom Ingoldsby's door the next morning startled him as he was shaving: he cut his chin.
"Come in, and be d—d to you!" said the martyr, pressing his thumb on the wounded epidermis. The door opened and exhibited Mr. Barney Maguire. "Well, Barney, what is it?" quoth the sufferer, adopting the vernacular of his visitant.
"The Master, sir——"
"Well, what does he want?"
"The loanst of a breeches, plase your honour."
"Why, you don't mean to tell me —— By Heaven, this is too good!" shouted Tom, bursting into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "Why, Barney, you don't mean to say the ghost has got them again?"
Mr. Maguire did not respond to the young squire's risibility; the cast of his countenance was decidedly serious.
"Faith, then, it's gone they are, sure enough. Hasn't meself been looking over the bed, and under the bed, and in the bed, for the matter of that, and divel a ha'p'orth of breeches is there to the fore at all: I'm bothered entirely!"
"Harkye! Mr. Barney," said Tom, incautiously removing his thumb, and letting a crimson stream "incarnadine the multitudinous" lather that plastered his throat,—"this may be all very well with your master, but you don't humbug me, sir: tell me instantly what have you done with the clothes?"
This abrupt transition from "lively to severe" certainly took Maguire by surprise, and he seemed for an instant as much disconcerted as it is possible to disconcert an Irish gentleman's gentleman.
"Me? is it meself, then, that's the ghost to your honour's thinking?" said he, after a moment's pause, and with a slight shade of indignation in his tones; "is it I would stale the master's things,—and what would I do with them?"
"That you best know: what your purpose is I can't guess, for I don't think you mean to 'stale' them, as you call it; but that you are concerned in their disappearance, I am satisfied. Confound this blood!—give me a towel, Barney."
Maguire acquitted himself of the commission. "As I've a sowl, your honour," said he solemnly, "little it is meself knows of the matter; and after what I seen——"
"What you've seen? Why, whathaveyou seen? Barney, I don't want to inquire into your flirtations; but don't suppose you can palm off your saucer eyes and gig-lamps upon me!"
"Then, as sure as your honour's standing there, I saw him; and why wouldn't I, when MissPaulinewas to the fore as well as meself, and——"
"Get along with your nonsense,—leave the room, sir!"
"But the master?" said Barney imploringly; "and the breeches?—sure he'll be catching cowld!"
"Take that, rascal!" replied Ingoldsby, throwing a pair of pantaloons at, rather than to, him; "but don't suppose, sir, you shall carry on your tricks with impunity; recollect there is such a thing as a tread-mill, and that my father is a county magistrate."
Barney's eye flashed fire,—he stood erect and was about to speak; but, mastering himself, not without an effort, he took up the garment, and left the room as perpendicular as a Quaker.
"Ingoldsby," said Charles Seaforth, after breakfast, "this is now past a joke; to-day is the last of my stay, for, notwithstanding the ties which detain me, common decency obliges me to visit home after so long an absence. I shall come to an immediate explanation with your father on the subject nearest my heart, and depart while I have a change of dress left. On his answer will my return depend; in the mean time tell me candidly,—I ask it in all seriousness and as a friend,—am I not a dupe to your well-known propensity to hoaxing? have you not a hand in——"
"No, by Heaven! Seaforth; I see what you mean: on my honour, I am as much mystified as yourself; and if your servant——"
"Not he: if there be a trick, he at least is not privy to it."
"If therebea trick? why, Charles, do you think——"
"I know notwhatto think, Tom. As surely as you are a living man, so surely did that spectral anatomy visit my room again last night, grin in my face, and walk away with my trousers; nor was I able to spring from my bed, or break the chain which seemed to bind me to my pillow."
"Seaforth," said Ingoldsby, after a short pause, "I will— ut hush! here are the girls and my father. I will carry off the females, and leave you clear field with the Governor: carry your point with him, and we will talk about your breeches afterwards."
Tom's diversion was successful: he carried off the ladiesen masseto look at a remarkable specimen of the classDodecandria Monogynia, which they could not find; while Seaforth marched boldly up to the encounter, and carried "the Governor's" outworks by acoup de main. I shall not stop to describe the progress of the attack; suffice it that it was as successful as could have been wished, and that Seaforth was referred back again to the lady. The happy lover was off at a tangent; the botanical party was soon overtaken; and the arm of Caroline, whom a vain endeavour to spell out the Linnæan name of a daffy-down-dilly had detained a little in the rear of the others, was soon firmly locked in his own.
"What was the world to them,Its noise, its nonsense, and its 'breeches' all?"
"What was the world to them,Its noise, its nonsense, and its 'breeches' all?"
Seaforth was in the seventh heaven; he retired to his room that night as happy as if no such thing as a goblin had ever been heard of, and personal chattels were as well fenced in by law as real property. Not so Tom Ingoldsby: the mystery—for mystery there evidently was,—had not only piqued his curiosity, but ruffled his temper. The watch of the previous night had been unsuccessful, probably because it was undisguised. Tonight he would "ensconce himself,"—not indeed "behind the arras,"—for the little that remained was, as we have seen, nailed tothe wall,—but in a small closet which opened from one corner of the room, and, by leaving the door ajar, would give its occupant a view of all that might pass in the apartment. Here did the young ghost-hunter take up a position, with a good stout sapling under his arm, a full half-hour before Seaforth retired for the night. Not even his friend did he let into his confidence, fully determined that if his plan did not succeed, the failure should be attributed to himself alone.
At the usual hour of separation for the night, Tom saw, from his concealment, the lieutenant enter his room; and, after taking a few turns in it, with an expression so joyous as to betoken that his thoughts were mainly occupied by his approaching happiness, proceed slowly to disrobe himself. The coat, the waistcoat, the black silk stock, were gradually discarded; the green morocco slippers were kicked off, and then—ay, and then—his countenance grew grave; it seemed to occur to him all at once that this was his last stake,—nay, that the very breeches he had on were not his own,—that to-morrow morning was his last, and that if he lostthem——A glance showed that his mind was made up; he replaced the single button he had just subducted, and threw himself upon the bed in a state of transition, half chrysalis, half grub.
Wearily did Tom Ingoldsby watch the sleeper by the flickering light of the night-lamp, till the clock, striking one, induced him to increase the narrow opening which he had left for the purpose of observation. The motion, slight as it was, seemed to attract Charles's attention; for he raised himself suddenly to a sitting posture, listened for a moment, and then stood upright upon the floor. Ingoldsby was on the point of discovering himself, when, the light flashing full upon his friend's countenance, he perceived that, though his eyes were open, "their sense was shut,"—that he was yet under the influence of sleep. Seaforth advanced slowly to the toilet, lit his candle at the lamp that stood on it, then, going back to the bed's foot, appeared to search eagerly for something which he could not find. For a few moments he seemed restless and uneasy, walking round the apartment and examining the chairs, till, coming fully in front of a large swing-glass that flanked the dressing-table, he paused, as if contemplating his figure in it. He now returned towards the bed, put on his slippers, and, with cautious and stealthy steps, proceeded towards the little arched doorway that opened on the private staircase.
As he drew the bolt, Tom Ingoldsby emerged from his hiding-place; but the sleep-walker heard him not: he proceeded softly down stairs, followed at a due distance by his friend, opened the door which led out upon the gardens, and stood at once among the thickest of the shrubs, which there clustered round the base of a corner turret, and screened the postern from common observation. At this moment Ingoldsby had nearly spoiled all by making a false step: the sound attracted Seaforth's attention, he paused and turned; and, as the full moon shed her light direct upon his pale and troubled features, Tom marked, almost with dismay, the fixed and rayless appearance of his eyes:
"There was no speculation in those orbsThat he did glare withal,"
"There was no speculation in those orbsThat he did glare withal,"
The perfect stillness preserved by his follower seemed to reassure him; he turned aside, and, from the midst of a thickset laurustinus, drew forth a gardener's spade, shouldering which he proceeded with greater rapidity into the midst of the shrubbery. Arrived at a certain point, where the earth seemed to have been recently disturbed, he set himself heartily to the task of digging; till, having thrown up several shovelfuls of mould, he stopped, flung down his tool, and very composedly began to disencumber himself of his pantaloons.
Up to this moment Tom had watched him with a wary eye; he now advanced cautiously, and, as his friend was busily engaged in disentangling himself from his garment, made himself master of the spade. Seaforth, meanwhile, had accomplished his purpose; he stood for a moment with
"His streamers waving in the wind,"
occupied in carefully rolling up the small-clothes into as compact a form as possible, and all heedless of the breath of heaven, which might certainly be supposed at such a moment, and in such a plight, to "visit his frame too roughly."
He was in the act of stooping low to deposit the pantaloons in the grave which he had been digging for them, when Tom Ingoldsby came close behind him, and with the flat of the spade——
The shock was effectual; never again was Lieutenant Seaforth known to act the part of a somnambulist. One by one, his breeches, his trousers, his pantaloons, his silk-net tights, his patent cords, and his showy greys with the broad red stripe of the Bombay Fencibles, were brought to light, rescued from the grave in which they had been buried, like the straw of a Christmas pie; and, after having been well aired by Mrs. Botherby, became once again effective.
The family, the ladies especially, laughed; Barney Maguire cried "Botheration!" andMa'mselle Pauline, "Mon Dieu!"
Charles Seaforth, unable to face the quizzing which awaited him on all sides, started off two hours earlier than he had proposed: he soon returned, however; and having, at his father-in-law's request, given up the occupation of Rajah hunting and shooting Nabobs, led his blushing bride to the altar.
Mr. Simpkinson from Bath did not attend the ceremony, being engaged at the Grand Junction Meeting ofSçavans, then congregating from all parts of the known world, in the city of Dublin. His essay, demonstrating that the globe is a great custard, whipped into coagulation by whirlwinds, and cooked by electricity,—a little too much baked in the Isle of Portland, and a thought underdone about the Bog of Allen,—is highly spoken of and, it is supposed, will obtain a Bridgewater prize.
Miss Simpkinson and her sister acted as bridesmaids on the occasion; the former wrote anepithalamium, and the latter cried "Lassy me!" at the clergyman's wig. But as of these young ladies, of the fair widow, Mr. Sucklethumbkin, Mrs. Peters and her P. we may have more to say hereafter, we take our leave for the present; assuring our pensive public that Mr. and Mrs. Seaforth are living together quite as happily as two good-hearted, good-tempered bodies, very fond of each other, can possibly do; and that since the day of his marriage Charles has shown no disposition to jump out of bed, or ramble out of doors o' nights,—though, from his entire devotion to every wish and whim of his young wife, Tom insinuates that the fair Caroline does still occasionally take advantage of it so far as to "slip on the Breeches."
BY RIGDUM O'FUNNIDOS.
The clubs of London! I recollect once reading a book so called; but as for anybonâ fideinformation touching thesoi disantsocial assemblies, I might as well have been perusing the Shaster, or reading the Florentine copy of the Pandects!Theclubs of London afford, as I have reason to know, ample material for the most abundant fun; but they who expect to find it at Crockford's, the Athenæum, and othermaisons de jeu, where yawning dandies, expertchevaliers, old men of the town,rouésof all sorts,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,As they mingle may,
Mingle, mingle, mingle,As they mingle may,
will be wofully disappointed. The clubs,par excellence, take them one and all,—from the Oriental, stuck, with a due disposition and attention to habits of Eastern indolence, in the dullest corner of the dullest square in London, down to, or up to, I care not which, the staring bow-windowed Omnibus Union in Cockspur-street,—are all alike destitute of the requisite material. I perhaps may have a touch at them in the middle of the session and season, when theéliteof the club-men are in town, and when their sayings and doings may by possibility be worth recording, even if it were only to have a laugh over them. But, as Copp says, "let that pass for the present." The clubs that I intend to introduce to the readers of the Miscellany are certain of those convivial associations composed of the middlemen of society in the metropolis, who assemble on certain stated nights in the week to sing songs, smoke pipes, and imbibe moisture in the shape of divers goes of spirit and pints of ale. My reminiscences of these assemblies, I think, would fill a goodly tome. To begin with the last, Hebrew fashion. In was my lot one evening, a short time since, to be introduced by Mr. Timmins, my landlord, who, seeing I was rather low-spirited, volunteered the invitation, on a social community called the "Wide Awake Club."
"Sir," said Mr. Timmins,—a very worthy knight of the needle, who called me "the genelman wot lodges in my first floor," (whether up or down the chimney, deponent sayeth not,)—"you looks werry oncomfutable this here nasty evening. Prowisin it ain't takin' of too great a liberty, and you feel noways disinclined, I think an hour or two at our club—(I have the privilege of introducing a wisitor wot I can answer for in regard to respectability)—might do you good."
"And pray, Mr. Timmins, what is the character of your club?"—"Oh! sir, the character of our club ison-doubted, sir; we are all men of experence, sir: no one is admitted a memberonless he shows he is awide awakecove."
"What do you mean by a wide awake cove," said I, "Mr. Timmins?"—"Vy," said Timmins, "there's no von hellgibble to be a member on our society but what gets a woucher from a member that he has a summut to say, and prove wot has made himwide awake,—that is to say, more up and down to the ways of the world than the generality of people, by experence."
"You mean, if I understand you rightly, Mr. Timmins, that your club is one where a certain number of persons meet to spend the social hours of relaxation in giving each other the tale of some particular event or occurrence that has taught them to know there is more roguery in the world than certain philanthropists would lend us to believe."—"You've hit it, sir," said Timmins; "down as a hammer."
"Well, Timmins, I shall be happy to join you," I replied.
During our walk, in answer to certain questions, Timmins informed me that the president of the club was a Mr. Phiggins, a retired draper; and that the leading members were Mr. Pounce, a lawyer's clerk, Mr. Bob Jinks, a butcher, Mr. Shortcut, a tobacconist, Mr. Sprigs, a fruiterer. "But," said Timmins, "you'll know them all in five minutes. I don't think this wet evening, there will be a strong muster: howsomdever, we can console ourselves that, if not numerous, we are select."
"Very proper consolation, Timmins," said I.
When we arrived at theThree Pies, the sign of the house where the club was held, Timmins went up stairs to communicate the fact of my being below, and to assure the company that all was regular and right, as he said; and shortly afterwards I was ushered into the presence, and introduced to the worthies previously named. The president, a jolly-looking man about fifty, sat in an elevated chair at the top of a long table, which gave a goodly display of pipes, glasses of grog, &c. On each side, the members sat at their most perfect ease, smoking and chatting. It would appear that they had been at business some time, for it seemed ebb-tide with the contents of the glasses; and several worthies were in the act of knocking the ashes out of their respective pipes. After ordering a glass of punch and a segar, and another for Timmins, a conversation which was going on before we came in was resumed, of which the following is a faithful report.
"That puts me in mind of M'Flummery," said Pounce, the lawyer's clerk, putting his hand—accidentally, I suppose, of course,—into Shortcut's open screw of tobacco, and filling his pipe therefrom; "I mean him as was hung at the Old Bailey some ten years back."
"And what was he hung for?" asked the president.—"Why, not exactly for his good behaviour. He set out in life as heavy a swell as ever flowed up in the regions of the West End—carried on the game for about a dozen years in bang-up style.—My eye! how precious drunk he made Snatch'em, the bum, and I, one night as we pinned him coming home in his cab from the Opera to give a champaign supper at the Clarendon."
"Champaign supper?" said the president. "Why, champaign is a wine; and no man, I maintain, can make a supper off wine, 'coz wine is drink, and supper, it stands to reason, is eating."
"And no mistake," said Shortcut.
"With submission, Mr. Chair," replied Pounce, "I'll explain. This champaign supper meant a regular slap-up feed; but no one was allowed any other drink with their grub, but champaign punch made with green tea in a silver kettle."
"I pity their stint," said Jinks.
"Ay," said the president, "that stands to reason. But how did it happen this gentleman came to be hanged?"—"Why," continued Pounce, "I was a-coming to that point. As I said just now, therenever was a greater dasher at the West End than this M'Flummery; but, like many other swells, he was very often lodging in Queer-street for the want of the ready. One day he came to my old master Snaps, of the Temple, when I was managing common-law clerk,—for, you see, he knew my governor well, seeing that he had issued about fourteen writs against him. I never shall forget the day he came: it was a precious wet 'un. He drove up to the gate in a jarvey, and sent a porter down to our office to know if Snaps was in, without sending his name. So Snaps sends me to see who it was, and bring him down. When I got up to the coach, I spied M'Flummery. 'Ah! my man,' says he, quite familiar, 'how do you like champaign punch? Here, just pay this fellow his fare,' says he, quite off-hand. 'I've no change about me;' and off he bolts under the gateway, leaving me to fork out an unknown man. Well! how was I to know what the Jarvey's fare was? That was a pozer. I wasn't going to ask him, 'How much?' or where he took up. No! I was toowide awake!"
"Wide awake!" said the chairman, and down went a hammer of appropriate brass upon the table three times.
"Hear! hear! hear!" respondedomnes.
"So I tipped two shillings. 'Vot's this for?' said coachee, holding it open in his hand, and looking at the money in a way money ought never by no means to be looked at. 'Your fare from the Clarendon, Bond-street,' said I, quite stiff and chuff. 'Fare be blowed!' said he; 'my fare's eight bob.' 'Then you shall swear it and prove it,' said I, pulling out a handful of silver, taking his number, and giving the wink to Hobbling Bob, one of the porters, to be witness. 'Take your demand, and we'll meet in Essex-street on Thursday.' 'Well,' says he, 'I ought to have eight bob—whatwillyou give me?' 'Two,' said I. 'Well,' says he, 'I ain't a going to stand chaffing in the wet with such a ——' and then he abused me in a way I can't repeat. 'Overcharge and insolence!' said I. 'We'll meet again at Philippi.' 'Fillip I,' said Jarvey, driving off, 'I should like to fillip you!' In going back to the office, I thought I ought to charge Mr. M'Flummery the eight shillings. Taking into consideration that I had advanced money—that I had got wet—had been abused, and last, though not least, that there was a strong risk touching repayment. I entered the expenditure thus: 'Coachman's demand, eight shillings. Paidhim.' I saidhim, notit, you see, for I waswide awake!"
"Wide awake!" said the president, hitting the table three sonorous clinks with the club-hummer of brass, again.
"When I got back to the office, Snaps called for me through the pipe to come up stairs:—he always had me as a witness when he wasdoing particular business, such as discounting a bill, bargaining for a bond, or arranging an annuity.
"'Sort those papers,' said Snaps, scratching his left ear.
"That means 'Cock your listeners,' thought I; and I proceeded to fumble over a bundle of old abstracts as diligently as if I was hunting for a hundred-pound note.
"As I turned over the dusty papers, I overheard the following conversation:
"'So you can't manage it for me any way?' said M'Flummery to Snaps.
"'I have not anything at my bankers',' answered Snaps,— a lie, for his was the best account of any professional man at Brookes and Dixon's, and I had that morning paid in five hundred and eighty pounds eleven and tenpence;)—'and, by the bye, Pounce, my confidential man, knows that. Have I, Pounce?'
"'Not anything,' said I; 'I'll be on my oath!'
"With that M'Flummery said, 'It's cursed hard.—I must be at Newmarket on Tuesday, and nothing less than two thousand will do for me.—So you cannot get it on my bond or note?'
"'Money is money, and holders are firm,' said Snaps. 'What do you think of a mortgage? You gave, if I recollect right, six thousand for the hunting-lodge and the acres in Leicestershire.'
"'Yes!' replied M'Flummery, 'and lost it six months since in one morning, at Graham's.'
"'The house in Park Lane?'
"'Belongs to Miss V. the rich old maid.'
"'The furniture?'
"'Is Gillow's.'
"'Your stud?'
"'I stalled at Tattersall's for six hundred advance.'
"'Your commission?'
"'Is pounded at Greenwood's for ditto.'
"'Then, in point of fact,' said Snaps, 'Mister,'—(whenever Snaps intended to say anything uncivil, he always addressed the favoured individual as 'Mr.')—'in point of fact, Mr. M'Flummery, you are a beggar, possessing neither house, land, goods, or chattels, or property of any sort, kind, or description.'
"M'Flummery bit his lips, and walked to the window, and Snaps continued,
"'How, after making the avowals you have, Mr. M'Flummery, you could have the impudence——'
"'What do you say, wretch?' cried M'Flummery, rushing and collaring Snaps, 'Impudence!'
"'Pounce,' cried my master, 'an assault! Call the copying-clerks up.' But while I was in the act of summoning the scribes down the pipe, M'Flummery relaxed his hold, and said,
"'I forgive you, Snaps! It certainly did warrant the term, after my declarations of insolvency; but it just flashes across my mind,—how it could have escaped me I know not,—that all is not so bad with me. I have a chest of plate!'
"'A chest of plate!' ejaculated Snaps. 'Why, my dear sir,——'
"'A plate-chest!' said I.
"'Yes,' continued M'Flummery, 'my splendid sporting service,—quite new,—never used,—made not six months since by Rundell and Bridge. How could I have forgotten this!'
"'Sit down, my dear sir,' said Snaps. 'Your recollection of thiscom-plete-lyalters the case! Perhaps wecanmanage the matter.'
"'But money is money, I am afraid; and holders are firm, Mr. Snaps,' said M'Flummery, with what I thought the most devilish and malicious laugh that ever was uttered.
"'True, true,' replied my master; 'but there is a mode of tempting even a miser.'
"'I think there is,' said M'Flummery, just as Old Nick might have spoken the words, and looking Snaps full in the face.
"'Where is the chest?" inquired Snaps. "There is no lien on it?' he continued gravely. 'It is not at——"
"'My uncle's? No, no!'
"'Satisfactory so far. What might it have cost you?'— 'Three thousand pounds.'
"'And you wanttwo. It is possible, my dear sir, that the mattercanbe managed. I'll see about it directly. Call here to-morrow with the chest, and we'll see what can be done. I'll go into the City directly.'
"'Then I may as well go with you,' said M'Flummery; 'I will look in at Rundell's on our way, where you can assure yourself of the fact and value of the purchase.' So saying, my master and his client went out."
"It does not yet seem clear to me," said the president, interrupting Pounce at this period of his story, "how the gentleman came to be hung. He seems to have been an honest man, who had more money than he thought he had."
"No, he had not," said Pounce; "for, before he went out of the office, I asked him for the fare of the coach. 'Oh!' said he, quite cool, 'my little quill-driver, I'll owe you that till to-morrow.'"
"Well," resumed Pounce, after the waiter had been declared "in the room," had "taken his orders," and gone "out of the room," and re-entered the room with the said ordersexecuted, preparatory (paradoxical as it may read) to their beingdespatched,—"Well," said Pounce, "when Mr. Snaps returned in the afternoon, he said to me, rubbing his hands, 'Pounce, it's all right! I have seen the chest of plate. I have handled and examined every article,—solid and beautiful! as fine a service as ever was turned out of hand.'
"'Glad to hear it, sir!' says I; 'I had my doubts;'—throwing as much of knowingness into my look as befitted a confidential managing common law-clerk when speaking to his governor.
"'And so had I,' said Snaps seriously: 'but what do you think, Pounce?' and my master beckoned me close to him.
"'WhatshouldI think, sir?' said I, deferentially,—'Why, he not only bought this most splendid service of plate I ever saw—massive—solid; but—but—'
"'Yes, sir?'—'But he actually paid for it!' said Snaps; giving me a playful dig in the ribs with one hand, while he took a huge pinch of snuff in the other, snapping the dust off his fingers as though so many crackers were exploding.
"'I shouldn't have thought he was a good one for paying, Mr. Snaps,' I replied, thinking of the fare.
"'Nor I, Pounce,' said Snaps; 'but, hark-ye, be sure you are in the way to-morrow at three;' and we parted,—Mr. Snaps being a religious man, and deacon of Zion Tabernacle in Jehoshaphat Terrace, to attend lecture, and I to finish a match at bumble-puppy at the Pig and Tweezers.
"The very next day, at three, punctual came M'Flummery, and I'm blessed if it didn't take four porters to carry the chest he brought with him. (By the way, I may here promiscuously observe, that in the experience of a long professional life I never knew but one case of unpunctuality in the attendance of people who hadto receivemoney, and that was explained by the fact of the party's dying of the cholera over night.) The chest was duly brought up stairs, and deposited in a corner of Mr. Snaps' private room."
"'Now, Snaps,' said M'Flummery, 'I hope you are ready with the needful two thousand upon the nail.'—'Why, my dear sir,' said my master, 'I have with great difficulty been able to manageonethousand.'
"'Two thousand was the sum agreed for,' said M'Flummery.— 'True, my dear sir; but money is money.'
"'Ay! and holders are firm, it appears, Snaps; but look at the security; plate will always fetch a safe and certain sum.'—'Satisfactory; truly so, my dear sir. Most unquestionable; but——'
"'Come, we are losing time. In a word, put fifteen hundred down on the desk, and we close; if not, I'm off to old Lombard.'—'Say twelve hundred,' cried Snaps, 'and I'll see what I can do.'
"'Fifteen,' said M'Flummery.—'It will not leave me a farthing,' said Snaps; 'and if I do find the odd five hundred, it must be added to the bond.'
"'Well! add it, and be d—d to you, Shylock the second!' said M'Flummery; 'you shall have your bond;' and he burst out into what I considered an unnecessary loud laugh.
"The money was counted, and the bond drawn out.
"'But, now,' said my master, 'if you please, you'll pardon me, my dear sir; but, in order that there may be no mistake, you will let my confidential clerk, Pounce, take a view of the contents of the chest.'
"'Most certainly,' said M'Flummery; and, unlocking it, he desired me to see if the articles corresponded with the inventory.
"I did so, and found that my master gave an approving look. After lifting up the several trays, and handling and examining some four or five articles, M'Flummery, turning to Snaps, said,
"'Are you satisfied, Mr. Snaps?'
"'Quite so,' said my master.
"'Then there only remains one thing to satisfy me,' said M'Flummery, locking the box and padlocks. 'This box will be in your possession for eighteen months as security; but, as I do not wish to havemy plate hired outorused, you will pardon me, Mr. Snaps,—I only say this in order, as you observed, that there may be 'no mistake,'—I will put my seal upon the chest, and keep the key!'
"'The key!' said Snaps; 'my dear sir!'
"'Why,' said M'Flummery, 'what do you want with the key? You have the power at the end of eighteen months to break open the chest, and sell the plate, in default of payment; but you have no power over the plate till then. What, therefore, doyouwant with the key?'
"Snaps was beginning to say something; but M'Flummery stopped him short by saying, 'It is a bargain, or it is not, Mr. Snaps. I seal the chest, and keep the key.'
"'Very well,' said Snaps, looking very much like a tiger that had suddenly lost sight of his dinner.
"This was accordingly done, the bond signed, and the money handed over; and M'Flummery shook hands with my master, saying,
"'Snaps, you are a cunning fellow!'
"'Oh! my dear sir,' said my master, attempting to blush,—a feat, by the way, he never accomplished during his life that I know of.
"'But I recollect,' continued M'Flummery, 'an old fisherman telling me, when I was a boy, that, deep as some fishes were in the sea, there were always others that swam just as deep. Good-b'ye, old Shylock! you shall have your bond.' So saying, he left.
"I confess, this curious remark so astonished me that I quite forgot at the moment to ask for the fare of the coach. My master also seemed struck with the observation.
"'What can he mean?' said Snaps; 'surely there is nothing wrong? Pooh! pooh! impossible! There is the chest, and possession is nine points of the law.'
"'The first of the maxims, sir,' said I."
Here Pounce paused, filled his pipe, and emptied his tumbler of grog into that depository where grog had gone ingoesfor years and years.
"Well!" said the president, "may I be spiflicated,—ay, and exspiflicated,—if you have not been humbugging us, Pounce, with a pretty piece of bam! What the deuce has all that you have said to do with the fact of the gentleman being hanged?"
"Everything," cried Pounce.
"I saynothing," said the president.
"So do I," followed Shortcut.
"Everything, I maintain," rejoined the lawyer's clerk; "forsix months afterwards his words came true."
"Whose?" shouted several of the company.
"M'Flummery's," said Pounce; "he proved himself as deep and deeper than Snaps. He was awide awake one!"
"Wide awake!" said the chairman; and down went the directing sceptre, with the customary clink.
"Hear! hear! hear!" resounded through the room.
"Yes," continued Pounce; "about six months after, and about five in the evening, a man came into the office, looking as like a turnkey or Bow-street runner as any of you gentlemen might ever have known in your life. He asked to see Mr. Snaps.
"Just as I was preparing to give my master a hint by one of the writing-clerks to be on his guard, who should walk into the office but Snaps himself?
"'I believe your name is Snaps?' said the hang-gallows-looking messenger.
"Snaps was rather near-sighted, and it was getting dark, so that he did not see the winks and nods of the head I was giving him.
"'My nameisSnaps,' he answered.
"'You're done,' thought I.
"'Then you are the person I am to give this letter to,' says the man.
"Snaps took the letter,—and, strange to say, itwasa letter,—coolly read it, and, folding it up, said, to my great relief, 'Tell the prisoner I shall attend;' and off went Grimgruffinhoff with his answer.
"'M'Flummery is in Newgate for passing forged notes;' said my master, taking a pinch of snuff. 'I thought he would be jugged some day,' he said, with a half-laugh. 'He wants to see me to-morrow morning about business of the greatest importance tome. What can he have to say tome?'
"'Ay, indeed!' said I, 'what sir?'
"'It is as well that I should go,' said my master, 'for there may be something——'
"'True,' said I, 'there may be.'
"The next morning we went to Newgate, which is not the most pleasant lodging in that neighbourhood, although you have it in the biggest house, and they charge you nothing for the apartments. When we entered the prisoner's cell, he was busy writing.
"'Snaps!' said he, 'I'm glad to see you here!'
"'I am sorry I cannot return the compliment,' said my master.
"'Never mind,' said M'Flummery; 'every dog has his day.'
"'And then he is hanged,' said Snaps, drily, taking a pinch of snuff.
"M'Flummery here gave a spasmodic groan, and exclaimed, 'As little reference to my present condition as possible, Mr. Snaps. It was not about myself that I requested your visit, but touching matters in which you alone are interested.'
"'Well, sir; and here I am," said Mr. Snaps. 'To tell you the truth, I do not feel myself very comfortable in the place, so I shall feel obliged by your stating the nature of your business with me as briefly as possible.'
"'I will,' said the prisoner, with a demonic look. 'You have, orrather think you have, Mr. Snaps, a chest of plate.'
"'What!' shrieked my master. 'Is it not silver? Have you cheated me?'
"'You have often robbed me, Mr. Snaps,' was the reply; 'I but returned the compliment. That which you believe is silver plate, manufactured by Rundell and Bridge, was made at Sheffield, and cost me two hundred pounds.'
"Snaps groaned, and hid his face.
"'It is true I did buy a service from those eminent goldsmiths; but, after the Sheffield firm had copied the pattern, I pledged it with old Lombard, the pawnbroker. It was redeemed for a day to satisfy you, Mr. Snaps, and then repledged. The Earl of A. bought the duplicate, and now has the real property, of which you have the counterfeit service.'
"'You are a cursed villain,' said my master; 'and thank Heaven! you will be hanged!'
"'Only that a felon's cell in Newgate is not the most fit place to bandy compliments in, I should willingly aspirate the same of you, Snaps!"
"'And was it to tell me this, you atrocious scoundrel, that you sent for me?' said my master.
"'Not exactly,' answered M'Flummery; 'not exactly, Snaps; I want you to do me a favour.'
"'Was there ever such audacity?' said Snaps. 'Ask me to do you a favour! You, who have told me to my face that you have swindled, cheated, plundered, robbed me! A favour! Come Pounce,' he added, turning to me, 'let us be gone.'
"'Stay!' said the prisoner; 'you have said I shall be hanged!'
"'Ay, as sure as fate!'
"'My fate is death, I know; but not perhaps by hanging. I have potent interest at work for me at this moment; and, though sure of conviction, I may yet get the sentence of death commuted to transportation for life, and you would not like that would you, Snaps? You wish me dead—dead—dead!'
"After an inward struggle my master muttered out, 'I do.'
"'Then, Mr. Clerk,' said M'Flummery, in a deep whisper, handing me secretly a small sealed paper, 'be so good as to open this, when you get outside these walls, and give it to your master.' Then, aloud to Snaps, 'My business with you,sir, is finished.' So saying, he resumed writing; and I led my master, who was trembling with agitation, revenge, and passion, out of the cell and prison.
"When we got into a coach, I produced the paper, and mentioned to my master what M'Flummery had said. With trembling hand he opened it, and read the following:
"'Your soul burns with revenge. You wish me dead. It is my desire also to die. There is a strong probability that I shall not undergo the last punishment of the law. If you would render my death certain, and feed your revenge, send me, in a small phial, an ounce of prussic acid: and the bearer of your welcome gift shall carry back the fact that M'Flummery the swindler, highwayman, and forger,—M'Flummery, who has cheated all through life, has terminated his career by cheating the law!'
"I shall never to my dying day forget the face of Snaps when he read this. He did not say a word; and we sat silent till we got back to the office. My master went up stairs, saying to me, 'Pounce, be silent as the grave! and be ready when I call for you.' Shortly afterwards I heard a loud hammering in his room. 'He's breaking open the chest,' said I; and true enough he was. Curiosity led me up stairs; and, on entering the room, there was Snaps, standing aghast over the open chest, with some broken tea-spoons in his hand.
"'The villain has told the truth,' said he. 'The contents of the chest are not worth fifty pounds. I thought I had taken every precaution; but I find I was not sufficientlywide awake.'"
"Wide awake!" said the chairman, and down went the hammer.
"Hear! hear! hear!" chorused the company.
"And ever since then, gentlemen," said Pounce, "I have always had my eyes open when doing a bill, when I had plate, the best of all possible security."
"But what became of M'Flummery?" asked Bob Jinks.
"Ay!" said the president, "when was he hanged?"
"He wasn't hanged at all," replied Pounce.
"I'm blowed," said the chairman, "if I didn't think so, all along."
"Howhe got it I do not pretend to know," said Pounce, blowing his nose, and looking aside, "but the very next day after we had paid him a visit, he was found dead on his bed, with a small empty phial, that smelt strongly of prussic acid, clenched in his fist."
The clock here stuck twelve, the hour at which the club disperses according to the rules; so Timmins and I toddled home.