We knew not what this meant, until we received a strange document from
Higgs, in London; which begun, "Middlesex to wit. Samuel Cox, late of
Portland Place, in the city of Westminster, in the said County, was
attached to answer Samuel Scapgoat, of a plea, wherefore, with force and
arms he entered into one messuage, with the appurtenances, which John
Tuggeridge, Esq., demised to the said Samuel Scapgoat, for a term which
is not yet expired, and ejected him." And it went on to say, that "we,
with force of arms, viz., with swords, knives, and staves, had ejected
him." Was there ever such a monstrous falsehood? when we did but stand
in defence of our own; and isn't it a sin, that we should have been
turned out of our rightful possessions upon such a rascally plea?
Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick had evidently been bribed; for, would you
believe it? they told us to give up possession at once, as a will was
found, and we could not defend the action. My Jemmy refused their
proposal with scorn, and laughed at the notion of the will: she
pronounced it to be a forgery, a vile blackamoor forgery; and believes
to this day that the story of its having been made thirty years ago in
Calcutta, and left there with old Tug's papers, and found there, and
brought to England, after a search made by order of Tuggeridge, junior,
is a scandalous falsehood.
Well, the cause was tried. Why need I say anything concerning it? What
shall I say of the Lord Chief Justice but that he ought to be ashamed of
the wig he sits in? What of Mr.——, and Mr.——, who exerted their
influence against justice and the poor? On our side, too, was no less a
man than Mr. Serjeant Binks, who, ashamed I am, for the honour of the
British bar, to say it, seemed to have been bribed too; for he actually
threw up his case! Had he behaved like Mr. Mulligan, his junior—and to
whom, in this humble way, I offer my thanks—all might have been well. I
never knew such an effect produced, as when Mr. Mulligan, appearing for
the first time in that court, said, "Standing here, upon the pidestal of
secred Thamis, seeing around me the arnymints of a profission I rispict;
having before me a vinnerable Judge, and an elightened Jury—the
counthry's glory, the netion's cheap defender, the poor man's priceless
palladium—how must I thrimble, my Lard, how must the blush bejew my
cheek—(somebody cried out '_O cheeks!_' In the court there was a
dreadful roar of laughing; and when order was established, Mr. Mulligan
continued)—my Lard, I heed them not; I come from a counthry accustomed
to opprission, and as that counthry—yes, my Lard, _that Ireland_ (do not
laugh, I am proud of it)—is ever, in spite of her tyrants, green, and
lovely, and beautiful; my client's cause, likewise, will rise shuperior
to the malignant imbecility—I repeat, the MALIGNANT IMBECILITY of those
who would thrample it down; and in whose teeth, in my client's name, in
my counthry's, aye, and _my own_, I, with folded arrums, hurl a scarnful
and eternal defiance!"
"For Heaven's sake, Mr. Milligan"—"MULLIGAN, ME LARD," cried my
defender—"Well, Mulligan, then; be calm, and keep to your brief."
Mr. Mulligan did; and, for three hours and a quarter, in a speech
crammed with Latin quotations, and unsurpassed for eloquence, he
explained the situation of me and my family; the romantic manner in
which Tuggeridge, the elder, gained his fortune, and by which it
afterwards came to my wife; the state of Ireland; the original and
virtuous poverty of the Coxes—from which he glanced passionately, for a
few minutes (until the Judge stopped him), to the poverty of his own
country; my excellence as a husband, father, landlord; my wife's, as a
wife, mother, landlady. All was in vain—the trial went against us.
I was soon taken in execution for the damages; five hundred pounds of
law expenses of my own, and as much more of Tuggeridge's. He would not
pay a farthing, he said, to get me out of a much worse place than the
Fleet.
I need not tell you that along with the land went the house in town and
the money in the funds. Tuggeridge, he who had thousands before, had it
all.
And when I was in prison who do you think would come and see me? None of
the Barons, nor Counts, nor Foreign Ambassadors, nor Excellencies, who
used to fill our house, and eat and drink at our expense,—not even the
ungrateful Tagrag!
I could not help now saying to my dear wife, "See, my love, we have been
gentlefolks for exactly a year, and a pretty life we have had of it. In
the first place, my darling, we gave grand dinners, and everybody
laughed at us."
"Yes, and recollect how ill they made you," cries my daughter.
"Then you must make a country gentleman of me."
"And send pa into dunghills," roared Tug.
"Then you must go to operas, and pick up foreign Barons and Counts."
"O, thank heaven! dearest papa, that we are rid of them," cries my
little Jemimarann, looking almost happy, and kissing her old pappy.
"And you must make a fine gentleman of Tug, and send him to a fine
school."
"And I give you my word," says Tug, "I'm as ignorant a chap as ever
lived."
"You're an insolent saucebox," says Jemmy; "you've learned that at your
fine school."
"I've learned something else, too, ma'am; ask the boys if I haven't,"
grumbles Tug.
"You hawk your daughter about, and just escape marrying her to a
swindler."
"And drive off poor Orlando," whimpered my girl. "Silence, Miss," says
Jemmy, fiercely.
"You insult the man whose father's property you inherited, and bring me
into this prison, without hope of leaving it; for he never can help us
after all your bad language." I said all this very smartly; for the fact
is, my blood was up at the time, and I determined to rate my dear girl
soundly.
"Oh! Sammy," said she, sobbing (for the poor thing's spirit was quite
broken), "it's all true; I've been very, very foolish and vain, and I've
punished my dear husband and children by my follies, and I do so, so
repent them!" Here, Jemimarann at once burst out crying, and flung
herself into her mamma's arms, and the pair roared and sobbed for ten
minutes together; even Tug looked queer: and as for me, it's a most
extraordinary thing, but I'm blest if seeing them so miserable didn't
make me quite happy. I don't think for the whole twelve months of our
good fortune I had ever felt so gay as in that dismal room in the Fleet
where I was locked up.
Poor Orlando Crump came to see us every day; and we, who had never taken
the slightest notice of him, in Portland Place, and treated him so
cruelly that day, at Beulah Spa, were only too glad of his company now.
He used to bring books for my girl, and a bottle of sherry for me; and
he used to take home Jemmy's fronts, and dress them for her; and when
locking-up time came, he used to see the ladies home to their little
three-pair bed-room, in Holborn, where they slept now, Tug and all. "Can
the bird forget its nest?" Orlando used to say (he was a romantic young
fellow, that's the truth, and blew the flute, and read Lord Byron,
incessantly, since he was separated from Jemimarann); "Can the bird, let
loose in eastern climes, forget its home? Can the rose cease to remember
its beloved bulbul?—Ah! no. Mr. Cox, you made me what I am, and what I
hope to die—a hairdresser. I never see a curling-irons before I entered
your shop, or knew Naples from brown Windsor. Did you not make over your
house, your furniture, your emporium of perfumery, and nine-and-twenty
shaving customers, to me? Are these trifles? Is Jemimarann a trifle? if
she will allow me to call her so. O, Jemimarann! your pa found me in the
workhouse, and made me what I am. Conduct me to my grave, and I never,
never shall be different!" When he had said this, Orlando was so much
affected, that he rushed suddenly on his hat, and quitted the room.
Then Jemimarann began to cry too. "O, pa!" said she, "isn't he, isn't he
a nice young man?"
"I'm _hanged_ if he ain't," says Tug. "What do you think of his giving
me eighteenpence yesterday, and a bottle of lavender water for
Mimarann?"
"He might as well offer to give you back the shop, at any rate," says
Jemmy.
"What! to pay Tuggeridge's damages? My dear, I'd sooner die than give
Tuggeridge the chance."
[Illustration:
DECEMBER—Christmas Bustle.
]