We were speedily installed in our fine house: but what's a house without
friends? Jemmy made me _cut_ all my old acquaintances in the market, and
I was a solitary being, when, luckily, an old acquaintance of ours,
Captain Tagrag, was so kind as to promise to introduce us into
distinguished society. Tagrag was the son of a baronet, and had done us
the honour of lodging with us for two years; when we lost sight of him,
and of his little account, too, by the way. A fortnight after, hearing
of our good fortune, he was among us again, however; and Jemmy was not a
little glad to see him, knowing him to be a baronet's son, and very fond
of our Jemimarann; indeed, Orlando (who is as brave as a lion) had, on
one occasion, absolutely beaten Mr. Tagrag for being rude to the poor
girl; a clear proof, as Tagrag said afterwards, that he was always fond
of her.
Mr. Crump, poor fellow, was not very much pleased by our good fortune,
though he did all he could to try, at first; and I told him to come and
take his dinner regular, as if nothing had happened. But to this Jemima
very soon put a stop, for she came very justly to know her stature, and
to look down on Crump, which she bid her daughter to do; and, after a
great scene, in which Orlando showed himself very rude and angry, he was
forbidden the house—for ever!
So much for poor Crump. The Captain was now all in all with us. "You
see, sir," our Jemmy would say, "we shall have our town and country
mansion, and a hundred and thirty thousand pounds in the funds to leave
between our two children; and, with such prospects, they ought surely to
have the first society of England." To this Tagrag agreed, and promised
to bring us acquainted with the very pink of the fashion; ay, and what's
more, did.
First, he made my wife get an opera-box, and give suppers on Tuesdays
and Saturdays. As for me, he made me ride in the park; me and
Jemimarann, with two grooms behind us, who used to laugh all the way,
and whose very beards I had shaved. As for little Tug, he was sent
straight off to the most fashionable school in the kingdom, the Rev.
Doctor Pigney's, at Richmond.
Well, the horses, the suppers, the opera-box, the paragraphs in the
papers about Mr. Coxe Coxe (that's the way, double your name, and stick
an 'e' to the end of it, and you are a gentleman at once), had an effect
in a wonderfully short space of time, and we began to get a very pretty
society about us. Some of old Tug's friends swore they would do anything
for the family, and brought their wives and daughters to see dear Mrs.
Cox and her charming girl; and when, about the first week in February,
we announced a grand dinner and ball, for the evening of the
twenty-eighth, I assure you there was no want of company; no, nor of
titles neither; and it always does my heart good even to hear one
mentioned.
Let me see, there was, first, my Lord Dunbooze, an Irish peer, and his
seven sons, the Honourable Messieurs Trumper (two only to dinner); there
was Count Mace, the celebrated French nobleman, and his Excellency Baron
Von Punter, from Baden; there was Lady Blanch Bluenose, the eminent
literati, author of "The Distrusted," "The Distorted," "The Disgusted,"
"The Disreputable One," and other poems; there was the Dowager Lady Max,
and her daughter, the Honourable Miss Adelaide Blueruin; Sir Charles
Codshead, from the City; and Field-Marshal Sir Gorman O'Gallagher, K.A.,
K.B., K.C., K.W., K.X., in the service of the republic of Guatemala: my
friend Tagrag, and his fashionable acquaintance, little Tom Tufthunt,
made up the party; and when the doors were flung open, and Mr. Hock, in
black, with a white napkin, three footmen, coachman, and a lad, whom
Mrs. C. had dressed in sugar-loaf buttons, and called a page, were seen
round the dinner-table, all in white gloves, I promise you I felt a
thrill of elation, and thought to myself—Sam Cox, Sam Cox, who ever
would have expected to see you here?
After dinner, there was to be, as I said, an evening party; and to this
Messieurs Tagrag and Tufthunt had invited many of the principal nobility
that our metropolis has produced. When I mention, among the company to
tea, her Grace the Duchess of Zero, her son the Marquis of Fitzurse, and
the Ladies North Pole, her daughters; when I say that there were yet
_others_, whose names may be found in the Blue Book, but shan't, out of
modesty, be mentioned here, I think I've said enough to show that, in
our time, No. 96, Portland Place, was the resort of the best company.
It was our first dinner, and dressed by our new cook, Munseer
Cordongblew. I bore it very well, eating, for my share, a filly dysol
allamater dotell, a cutlet soubeast, a pully bashymall, and other French
dishes: and, for the frisky sweet wine, with tin tops to the bottles,
called Champang, I must say that me and Mrs. Coxe-Tuggeridge-Coxe drank
a very good share of it (but the Claret and Jonnysberger, being sour, we
did not much relish); however, the feed, as I say, went off very well,
Lady Blanch Bluenose sitting next to me, and being so good as to put me
down for six copies of all her poems; the Count and Baron Von Punter
engaging Jemimarann for several waltzes, and the Field-Marshal plying my
dear Jemmy with Champang until, bless her! her dear nose became as red
as her new crimson satin gown, which, with a blue turban and
Bird-of-Paradise feathers, made her look like an Empress, I warrant.
Well, dinner past, Mrs. C. and the ladies went off:—thunder-under-under
came the knocks at the door; squeedle-eedle-eedle, Mr. Wippert's
fiddlers began to strike up; and, about half-past eleven, me and the
gents thought it high time to make our appearance. I felt a _little_
squeamish at the thought of meeting a couple of hundred great people;
but Count Mace, and Sir Gorman O'Gallagher taking each an arm, we
reached, at last, the drawing-room.
The young ones in company were dancing, and the Duchess and the great
ladies were all seated, talking to themselves very stately, and working
away at the ices and macaroons. I looked out for my pretty Jemimarann
amongst the dancers, and saw her tearing round the room along with Baron
Punter, in what they call a gallypard; then I peeped into the circle of
the Duchesses, where, in course, I expected to find Mrs. C.; but she
wasn't there! She was seated at the farther end of the room, looking
very sulky; and I went up, and took her arm, and brought her down to the
place where the Duchesses were. "O, not there!" said Jemmy, trying to
break away. "Nonsense, my dear," says I, "you are Missis, and this is
your place:"—then, going up to her Ladyship the Duchess, says I, "Me and
my Missis are most proud of the honour of seeing of you."
The Duchess (a tall red-haired grenadier of a woman) did not speak.
I went on. "The young ones are all at it, ma'am, you see: and so we
thought we would come and sit down among the old ones. You and I, ma'am,
I think, are too stiff to dance."
"Sir?" says her Grace.
"Ma'am," says I, "don't you know me? my name's Cox—nobody's introduced
me; but, dash it, it's my own house, and I may present myself—so give us
your hand, ma'am."
And I shook hers in the kindest way in the world: but, would you believe
it? the old cat screamed as if my hand had been a hot 'tater. "Fitzurse!
Fitzurse!" shouted she; "help! help!" Up scuffled all the other
Dowagers—in rushed the dancers. "Mamma! mamma!" squeaked Lady Julia
North Pole. "Lead me to my mother," howled Lady Aurorer; and both came
up and flung themselves into her arms. "Wawt's the raw?" said Lord
Fitzurse, sauntering up quite stately.
"Protect me from the insults of this man," says her Grace. "Where's
Tufthunt? he promised that not a soul in this house should speak to me."
"My dear Duchess," said Tufthunt, very meek.
"Don't Duchess _me_, sir. Did you not promise they should not speak; and
hasn't that horrid tipsy wretch offered to embrace me? Didn't his
monstrous wife sicken me with her odious familiarities? Call my people,
Tufthunt! Follow me, my children!"
"And my carriage; and mine, and mine!" shouted twenty more voices; and
down they all trooped to the hall: Lady Blanch Bluenose, and Lady Max
among the very first; leaving only the Field-Marshal, and one or two
men, who roared with laughter ready to split.
"O, Sam," said my wife, sobbing, "why would you take me back to them?
they had sent me away before! I only asked the Duchess whether she
didn't like rum-shrub better than all your Maxarinos and Curasosos: and,
would you believe it? all the company burst out laughing; and the
Duchess told me just to keep off, and not speak till I was spoken to.
Imperence! I'd like to tear her eyes out."
And so I lo believe my dearest Jemmy would!
TOM THE DEVIL.
A FRAGMENT OF THE BIOGRAPHY OF 1839.
"I do declare, upon an affidavit,
Romance I've never read like that I've seen:
Nor, if unto the world I ever gave it,
Would some believe that such a tale had been!"—_Byron._
It was a little past the noon of a lovely day in the last Autumn, that,
as I rode towards the Doncaster race-course, to enjoy an hour of its
rural revelries, before the serious business of the Leger commenced, I
found myself hailed by a voice, and an arm of a red silk _robe de
chambre_, from a drawing-room window of the "Salutation." Now, when we
set out in prepense search of adventure, it don't require the song of
the Syrens to induce us to luff up to a hail. Turning under the gateway,
therefore, I dismounted, and taking my way upstairs, made the apartment
for which I was bound, with but little difficulty. The chamber was,
certainly, not the worst specimen I had ever seen of the unfortunate
world whereof it formed an item. The appointments combined no ordinary
degree of comfort and elegance, while a table, placed at one of the
windows, was stocked after a manner that would have done honour to the
corporation of Bristol. Among various _plats_, consisting of cold
partridges, French patés, devil'd grouse, and varieties of choice fruit,
arose the graceful forms of tapering flasks, eloquent of many a rare and
precious vintage. The lord or all, arrayed in a robe of scarlet silk,
lined with purple of a like material, lay, dishevelled, in Sybarite
indulgence, upon a sofa adjoining this teeming board. "_Couchant_," I
knew him not; but as he rose to receive me, there, in that silk attire,
stood confessed the worthy, a fragment of whose biography I am now in
the act of perpetuating—the veritable hero of these presents, even Tom
the Devil himself. As my acquaintance with him at the time (and indeed
in all subsequent experience) was of a very desultory character, this
introduction of him to the reader must be of a similar nature. Ireland
was the land of his birth; but the particulars of his parentage were
less definitely ascertained. I was assured he had _an uncle_ (from an
episode in his life that it is not convenient here to enter upon), and,
indeed, he himself admitted that he was in the habit of frequent
intercourse with a person distinguished by that appellation. However,
for our present purpose, it is enough that he was an eccentric, endowed
with little of the tedious coherence of the merely common-place. When we
laugh at the samples of his compatriots, put before us by the playwright
and the actor, we regard them as pleasant burlesques, cleverly, though
unnaturally, got up. Reader! if haply thou hast had no personal
experience of Erin as it is, permit me to offer thee this characteristic
fragment.
"Ould fellow," said the fiend, clutching my hand in a monstrous horny
fist, "by my sowl, I'm grately plazed to meet ye in these parts: when
did ye come to Doncaster? and where do ye hang out? and how long do ye
stop?" "Came by the Edinburgh mail yesterday morning; at my old lodgings
at the saddler's, nearly opposite the Rooms: leave for town to-morrow,"
said I. "That's a nate way of doing business, sure enough," was the
commentary; "ounly I can't larn the sinse of going to a private lodging,
where, if you ordher a kidney for breakfast, you're expected to fork out
to the butcher. See how _I_ carry on the war, and never hard the ghost
of an inquiry about coin sense I sot fut in the house. A hotel's the
place for me! I've thried 'em all, from the Club-house at Kilkinny to
the Clarendon, and, by the holy poker, never wish mysilf worse luck than
such cantonments! Arrah! what more does a man require than a place
where, if he wants a bottle of claret, all he has to do is to ring the
bell for it? Dine with me to-night," continued the social economist;
"they put you to trough very respectably in this same shop: ask, and
have, that's the ticket." I declined, with thanks; urging a previous
engagement, and made a demonstration of leave-taking.—"Fill a bumper of
sparkling burgundy before you go, any how," said my hospitable host;
"you'll find it a gentlemanly morning tipple! if this be war, may we
never have pace; here's to our next merry meeting, and may we never know
the want of oceans of wine, plantations of tobacco, cart-loads of pipes,
lots of purty girls, and a large room to swear in.—Farewell."
About a fortnight after the date to which the foregoing refers, chance
placed me in Dublin, and the coffee-room of Morisson's hotel, towards
eight, P.M., with the remnant of a bottle of Sneyd and Barton's
"twenty-two" before me. With his back to one of the fires stood what had
all the outward appearance of a scare-crow—a figure made up of a coat
that no respectable old clothesman would degrade his bag withal, and a
superlatively "shocking bad hat." The waiters were eyeing it in a most
suspicious manner, and I was wondering why they didn't kick it into the
street, when, to my utter amazement, the "horrible illusion" stalked
towards the place where I sat, and, in accents familiar to my ear,
wheezed out, "Ould fellow, by my sowl I'm grately plazed to meet ye in
these parts!" There could be no mistake about it—Tom, it was—"sed quanto
mutatus ab illo _diabolo_." "A chair," said I, to a waiter who was now
staring at us both, like the Trojan who drew Priam's curtain—"bring a
chair and another wine-glass;" and pouring a bumper, I pushed it towards
my _vis-à-vis_. "Drink, Tom," I continued; "whatever maybe your object
in this masquerading, a drain of Bordeaux will never hurt you: drink,
and then, unless it's treason, leave off your damnable faces and begin."
"Masquerading!" exclaimed the scurvy libel upon the Doncaster
Sardanapalus, with a smile as much out of character on such a face as a
rose in an undertaker's button-hole; "by the piper of Blessingtown, it's
rale arnest! Unless the smell of mate be disagreeable to you after
dinner, for the honour of dacency tell them to get me a few steakes
without delay: I'm as full of wind as a blown blather: like my ould
coat, I'm dying of the stitches." Several handsome sections of a sirloin
having been disposed of, without the ceremony of oyster sauce, and a
wish for materials for punch (expressed with a look of intense
yearning), duly administered to, "the Devil" thus detailed his progress
since our parting:—
"It's mighty nice for philosophers, on three courses and a dessert, to
talk about the uses of adversity being sweet; but if they'll thry a
genuine sample of it, say a can of poorhouse soup (biling dish-wather,
flavoured with a farthing rushlight to the gallon), perhaps they would
alther their opinions a _leetle_. However, there's no need for these
reflections now. How did the Leger serve you?—I lost (that was of very
little consequence)—but I didn't win, and that _was_, as I was entirely
without funds just thin. Well, I wint to ould——'s, at night (having
transmogrified what odd togs I could muster into cash, by the assistance
of _my father's brother_), and if it had been '_vingt un_,' or '_loo_,'
we were playing, my fortune would have been made, for I got aces by the
baker's dozen. But at hazard they're not the thing: so I was turned
inside out as clane as a pudden-bag—indeed rather claner, as they got
out of me about four times as much as ever I contained. Whin I rose to
lave the house (who was to stay there with such a run against him?), the
blaggards objected to my taking my Macintosh and hat with me, bad luck
to them! and so I had to return home as classically undressed as William
the Third in College Green. A man without hat or coat, however, isn't so
well thought of now-a-days as among the ancient Romans; and, as
misfortunes never come alone, without half a score to keep them company,
I found my credit at the hotel had gone to look after that which I left
at ould——'s hazard-table. No gentleman should ever demane himself by
running the risk of a notice to quit; so, instead of stopping at the
race-ground next morning, I walked quietly on to Newark. It's raly a
purty walk from Doncaster to Liverpool—that is to say, for those who are
fond of pedesthrian exercise—_I_ like riding better; and so I wasn't
sorry whin I seen the Mersey rowling away on my right. Having left my
body-coat in pledge for the last night's lodging, I had to borry one
that was hanging on a stick in a pay-field, and as my shoes had given in
at Norman Cross, I was not just the cut for a fashionable hotel. A bit
of an ague I was lucky enough to pick up at Grantham, however, qualified
me for a berth in the hospital, where I remained till I was
convalescent—which manes on the brink of the grave; so I left, to save
them the trouble of burying me. There's no stepping from the pier-head
at Liverpool to the North Wall here, so that there was nothing left for
it but an application, in form of a distriss'd Irish agriculturist, to
the export committee, and they furnished me with a pass for the hould of
a steamer, and a fourpenny loaf for sea-store. If our passage hadn't
been a bad one, I should have done well enough; but my provision was out
before we reached the Orme's Head, and I was ready to ate my brogues
whin I caught sight of you. Never mind! worse luck now—better another
time; as Shakspeare says—'Life's a stage, and every man plays many
parts.' Anthony to-day, Scrub to-morrow."