Mamma had kept the house in Duke Street for more than two years. I
recollected some of the chairs and tables, from dear old Squiggle, and
the bowl in which I had made that famous rum-punch, the evening she went
away, which she and my sisters left untouched, and I was obliged to
drink after they were gone; but that's not to the purpose.
Think of my sister Mary's luck! That chap, Waters, fell in love with
her, and married her; and she now keeps her carriage, and lives in state
near Squiggle. I offered to make it up with Waters; but he bears malice,
and never will see or speak to me. He had the impudence, too, to say
that he took in all letters for mamma at Squiggle; and that, as mine
were all begging letters, he burned them, and never said a word to her
concerning them. He allowed mamma fifty pounds a year, and, if she were
not such a fool, she might have had three times as much; but the old
lady was high and mighty, forsooth, and would not be beholden, even to
her own daughter, for more than she actually wanted. Even this fifty
pounds she was going to refuse; but when I came to live with her, of
course I wanted pocket money as well as board and lodging, and so I had
the fifty pounds for _my_ share, and eked out with it as well as I
could.
Old Bates and the Captain, between them, gave mamma a hundred pounds
when she left me (she had the deuce's own luck, to be sure—much more
than ever fell to _me_, I know), and as she said she _would_ try and
work for her living, it was thought best to take a house and let
lodgings, which she did. Our first and second floor paid us four guineas
a week, on an average; and the front parlour and attic made forty pounds
more. Mamma and Eliza used to have the front attic; but _I_ took that,
and they slept in the servants' bed room. Lizzy had a pretty genius for
work, and earned a guinea a week that way; so that we had got nearly two
hundred a year over the rent to keep house with,—and we got on pretty
well. Besides, women eat nothing; my women didn't care for meat for days
together sometimes,—so that it was only necessary to dress a good steak
or so for me.
Mamma would not think of my continuing in the Post-office. She said her
dear John, her husband's son, her gallant soldier, and all that, should
remain at home, and be a gentleman—which I was, certainly, though I
didn't find fifty pounds a year very much to buy clothes and be a
gentleman upon; to be sure, mother found me shirts and linen, so that
_that_ wasn't in the fifty pounds. She kicked a little at paying the
washing too; but she gave in at last, for I was her dear John, you know;
and I'm blest if I could not make her give me the gown off her back.
Fancy! once she cut up a very nice rich black silk scarf, which my
sister Waters sent her, and made me a waistcoat and two stocks of it.
She was so _very_ soft, the old lady!
* * * * *
I'd lived in this way for five years or more, making myself content with
my fifty pounds a year (_perhaps_, I'd saved a little out of it; but
that's neither here nor there). From year's end to year's end I remained
faithful to my dear mamma, never leaving her except for a month or so in
summer, when a bachelor may take a trip to Gravesend or Margate, which
would be too expensive for a family. I say a bachelor, for the fact is,
I don't know whether I am married or not—never having heard a word since
of the scoundrelly Mrs. Stubbs.
I never went to the public house before meals; for, with my beggarly
fifty pounds, I could not afford to dine away from home; but there I had
my regular seat, and used to come home _pretty glorious_, I can tell
you. Then, bed till eleven; then, breakfast and the newspaper; then, a
stroll in Hyde Park or Saint James's; then, home at half-past three to
dinner, when I jollied, as I call it, for the rest of the day. I was my
mother's delight; and thus, with a clear conscience, I managed to live
on.
* * * * *
How fond she was of me, to be sure! Being sociable myself, and loving to
have my friends about me, we often used to assemble a company of as
hearty fellows as you would wish to sit down with, and keep the nights
up royally. "Never mind, my boys," I used to say, "send the bottle
round: mammy pays for all," as she did, sure enough; and sure enough we
punished her cellar too. The good old lady used to wait upon us, as if
for all the world she had been my servant, instead of a lady and my
mamma. Never used she to repine, though I often, as I must confess, gave
her occasion (keeping her up till four o'clock in the morning, because
she never could sleep until she saw her "dear Bob" in bed, and leading
her a sad anxious life). She was of such a sweet temper, the old lady,
that I think in the course of five years I never knew her in a passion,
except twice; and then with sister Lizzy, who declared I was ruining the
house, and driving the lodgers away, one by one. But mamma would not
hear of such envious spite on my sister's part. "Her Bob" was always
right, she said. At last Lizzy fairly retreated, and went to the
Waterses,—I was glad of it, for her temper was dreadful, and we used to
be squabbling from morning till night.
Ah, those _were_ jolly times! but ma was obliged to give up the
lodging-house at last—for, somehow, things went wrong after my sister's
departure—the nasty uncharitable people said, on account of _me_;
because I drove away the lodgers by smoking and drinking, and kicking up
noises in the house; and because mamma gave me so much of her money:—so
she did, but if she _would_ give it, you know, how could I help it?
Heigho! I wish I'd _kept_ it.
No such luck.—The business I thought was to last for ever; but at the
end of two years a smash came—shut up shop—sell off everything. Mamma
went to the Waterses: and, will you believe it, the ungrateful wretches
would not receive me! that Mary, you see, was _so_ disappointed at not
marrying me. Twenty pounds a year they allow, it is true; but what's
that for a gentleman? For twenty years I have been struggling manfully
to gain an honest livelihood, and, in the course of them, have seen a
deal of life, to be sure. I've sold segars and pocket-hand-kerchiefs at
the corners of streets; I've been a billiard-marker; I've been Director
(in the panic year) of the Imperial British Consolidated Mangle and
Drying Ground Company. I've been on the stage (for two years as an
actor, and about a month as a cad, when I was very low); I've been the
means of giving to the police of this empire some very valuable
information (about licensed victuallers, gentlemen's carts, and
pawnbrokers' names); I've been very nearly an officer again—that is, an
assistant to an officer of the Sheriff of Middlesex: it was my last
place.
On the last day of the year 1837, even _that_ game was up. It's a thing
that has very seldom happened to a gentleman, to be kicked out of a
sponging-house; but such was my case. Young Nabbs (who succeeded his
father) drove me ignominiously from his door, because I had charged a
gentleman in the coffee-rooms seven-and-sixpence for a glass of ale and
bread and cheese, the charge of the house being only six shillings. He
had the meanness to deduct the eighteen-pence from my wages, and,
because I blustered a bit, he took me by the shoulders and turned me
out—me, a gentleman, and, what is more, a poor orphan!
How I did rage and swear at him when I got out in the street!—There
stood he, the hideous Jew monster, at the double door, writhing under
the effect of my language. I had my revenge! Heads were thrust out of
every bar of his windows, laughing at him. A crowd gathered round me, as
I stood pounding him with my satire, and they evidently enjoyed his
discomfiture. I think the mob would have pelted the ruffian to death
(one or two of their missiles hit _me_, I can tell you), when a
policeman came up, and, in reply to a gentleman, who was asking what was
the disturbance, said, "Bless you, Sir, it's Lord Cornwallis." "Move on,
_Boots_," said the fellow to me, for, the fact is, my misfortunes and
early life are pretty well known—and so the crowd dispersed.
"What could have made that policeman call you Lord Cornwallis and
Boots?" said the gentleman, who seemed mightily amused, and had followed
me. "Sir," says I, "I am an unfortunate officer of the North Bungay
Fencibles, and I'll tell you willingly for a pint of beer." He told me
to follow him to his chambers at the Temple, which I did (a five pair
back), and there, sure enough, I had the beer; and told him this very
story you've been reading. You see he is what is called a literary man—
and sold my adventures for me to the booksellers: he's a strange chap;
and says they're _moral_.
* * * * *
I'm blest if I can see anything moral in them. I'm sure I ought to have
been more lucky through life, being so very wide awake. And yet here I
am, without a place, or even a friend, starving upon a beggarly twenty
pounds a year—not a single sixpence more, upon _my honour_.
ASCOT CUP DAY.
FROM THE RACING CALENDAR.
"Well, I never!—this the Great Western Railway: the Paddington Station?
What a beautiful place:—ugh! ugh! ugh!—and that's the engine: did I
ever!—What a funny noise it makes; and what elegant carriages—all
plate-glass and silk-lace!" Thus rattled a lively little matron, as fine
as a milliner's pattern-doll, to her dapper lord and master, as they
seated themselves _vis-à-vis_, in the nine-o'clock down train,
first-class, on the morning of the last anniversary of Ascot Cup Day.
Anon they were darting onwards for their destination, and again the
dame's loquacities were at high pressure. "It is charming, and that's
all about it: for all the world like travelling by balloon; and as free
from dust and dirt as if one was borne through the air. Why, we shall
get down, I _do_ declare, as clean as new pins." "No danger of being
soiled on _this_ line, marm," remarked a stout personage in nankeen
leggings, a wig, and a _very_ red face, "'cause why, we escape _Staines_
and avoid _Slough_, you know: ha! ha!"
At the end of five-and-forty minutes, bump, bump, bump, and a hissing,
as of a universe of boa-constrictors, were succeeded by the
interrogatory, from officials in green and much brass, of—"Now Windsor?"
and all the crew bound for the races descended _of course_. Then rose
the clamour of 'bus cads and go-cart touters—
"Billingsgate eloquence, and, as I guess,
The logic of the 'os coccygis;'"
when, after a scuffle, and some energetic demonstrations, our little
dame and second-self found themselves once more in company with the
gentleman in the leggings and red face. The trio were seated in a
lateral inconvenience on enormous wheels, the charioteer, with his
behind before them, urging to utmost speed a gaunt but sinewy bit of
blood, who flew onwards as if a herd of hungry wolves were at his
haunches. Our travellers were soon on the best of terms: good fellowship
generally results when people are thus _thrown together_. Windsor was
quickly reached, and as they turned the corner beyond the White Hart,
which leads to Ascot, an equipage at the door of the hostelry attracted,
by its splendour, the go-carter's attention. "That's L——'s carriage,"
said the married male; "he that cut such a dash last season; gave balls
to one half of London;"—"and _rifled_ the other," rejoined the man with
the rosy countenance: it was manifest that he was a wag. "A correct list
of all the wonderful high-bred horses, and how they will come in for
every heat during the day." "The modern Hercules, ladies and gentlemen;
_the_ modern Hercules: he will take and tie that ere donkey to this here
ladder, and balance the _as_tonishing _con_junction on the tip of his
nose. Waiting for a ha'penny, ladies and gentlemen; make it another
brown, and—up—he—goes." Such is the chorus of the Olympic song, chanted
what time Ascot celebrates her right-royal revels; but we tarry not for
the ladder, or _the staves_.
Through streets of _canvas_ caravanseras, all _soliciting_ their custom,
our _tria juncta_ reach _the ropes_ as the word runs along _the lines_,
"The Queen is coming!" "Let me see her," ejaculated the lady voyager:
"bless her heart! it was for that I came here; and is that Her Majesty?
She is a darling, that's what she is! so amiable, so kind-looking, and
so little to be a queen!" "And who is that in green, with the costly
golden couples over his shoulders?" "Oh, that's the master of the _dear_
hounds." "And all those lovely, smiling ladies?" "More of the _sweet_."
"Clear _the course_, clear _the course_!" and straightway there is a
movement of gold, precious stones, silk, and paradise plumes, enough to
astonish the Genii of the Wonderful Lamp.
"Here they come!" Grey Momus, and Epirus, and Caravan, with "little
Pavis, the _rara avis_." "Another round for it. Well done, grey; hurrah!
dismal jacket." "Who's the favourite?" "The _belles_ are all for
_Bowes_; I'm for Suffield, he's such a good fellow." "I'm for Lord
George, _he's a better_." "Hurrah! splendid race." "Oh! you villain,
you've stolen my watch; but I've got you, and I'll give it you." "That
ere's never no prigging. Didn't I hear you promise to give it him?" "Get
away, do—you'll break the springs: you're not to climb up my steps for a
stare." The Royal Stand is now vacated, and the cause reaches our little
inquisitive friend. "Her Majesty has retired to luncheon." "Law, is she,
indeed! how I _should_ like to see her eat: I'm dying to know what sort
of meals they provide for her." "All the delicacies in season,"
explained the wit, with a sinister smile, "and _Lamb_ the whole year
round." The matchless cavalcade has passed in all its gorgeous
simplicity, bearing the cynosure of all eyes, where waves the banner of
St. George a welcome to
"The fair-haired daughter of the Isles,
The hope of many nations."
This, and a rain, descending _à l'Anglaise_, gave notice to quit to all
save those who, by the grace of Mackintosh and neat brandy, had set the
elements at defiance. "Let us return to our conveyance," said the lively
little matron, "and make our way back to the station of the Great
Western Railway; my parasol is wet through already." "Here is the spot
where we left it," ejaculated her spruce and dapper lord and master,
"and no trace of it can I discover: what is to be done now? And the
rascal was paid beforehand for stopping." "You could hardly have
expected he _would_ stay, however," remarked the stout personage in the
nankeen leggings, the wig, and the very red face, proving thereby that
he was not only a wit but a philosopher; "you could hardly, in reason,
expect the vehicle to stop so long. You should remember it was a
_Go_-cart."