It is very easy to state how the Captain came to take up that proud
position at the “Bootjack” which we have seen him occupy on the evening
when the sound of the fatal “Brava!” so astonished Mr. Eglantine.
The mere entry into the establishment was, of course, not difficult. Any
person by simply uttering the words “A pint of beer,” was free of the
“Bootjack;” and it was some such watchword that Howard Walker employed
when he made his first appearance. He requested to be shown into a
parlour, where he might repose himself for a while, and was ushered into
that very sanctum where the “Kidney Club” met. Then he stated that the
beer was the best he had ever tasted, except in Bavaria, and in some
parts of Spain, he added; and professing to be extremely “peckish,”
requested to know if there were any cold meat in the house whereof he
could make a dinner.
“I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord,” said he, flinging down
a half-sovereign for payment of the beer; “but your parlour looks so
comfortable, and the Windsor chairs are so snug, that I'm sure I could
not dine better at the first club in London.”
“ONE of the first clubs in London is held in this very room,” said Mr.
Crump, very well pleased; “and attended by some of the best gents in
town, too. We call it the 'Kidney Club'.”
“Why, bless my soul! it is the very club my friend Eglantine has so
often talked to me about, and attended by some of the tip-top tradesmen
of the metropolis!”
“There's better men here than Mr. Eglantine,” replied Mr. Crump, “though
he's a good man--I don't say he's not a good man--but there's better.
Mr. Clinker, sir; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, Woolsey and Co--”
“The great army-clothiers!” cried Walker; “the first house in town!”
and so continued, with exceeding urbanity, holding conversation with Mr.
Crump, until the honest landlord retired delighted, and told Mrs. Crump
in the bar that there was a tip-top swell in the “Kidney” parlour, who
was a-going to have his dinner there.
Fortune favoured the brave Captain in every way. It was just Mr. Crump's
own dinner-hour; and on Mrs. Crump stepping into the parlour to ask the
guest whether he would like a slice of the joint to which the family
were about to sit down, fancy that lady's start of astonishment at
recognising Mr. Eglantine's facetious friend of the day before. The
Captain at once demanded permission to partake of the joint at the
family table; the lady could not with any great reason deny this
request; the Captain was inducted into the bar; and Miss Crump, who
always came down late for dinner, was even more astonished than her
mamma, on beholding the occupier of the fourth place at the table. Had
she expected to see the fascinating stranger so soon again? I think she
had. Her big eyes said as much, as, furtively looking up at Mr. Walker's
face, they caught his looks; and then bouncing down again towards her
plate, pretended to be very busy in looking at the boiled beef and
carrots there displayed. She blushed far redder than those carrots, but
her shining ringlets hid her confusion together with her lovely face.
Sweet Morgiana! the billiard-ball eyes had a tremendous effect on the
Captain. They fell plump, as it were, into the pocket of his heart; and
he gallantly proposed to treat the company to a bottle of champagne,
which was accepted without much difficulty.
Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar (where he said he had
some cases of the finest champagne in Europe), called Dick, the boy,
to him, and despatched him with all speed to a wine merchant's, where a
couple of bottles of the liquor were procured.
“Bring up two bottles, Mr. C.,” Captain Walker gallantly said when Crump
made his move, as it were, to the cellar and it may be imagined after
the two bottles were drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at least nine
glasses to her share), how happy, merry, and confidential the whole
party had become. Crump told his story of the “Bootjack,” and whose boot
it had drawn; the former Miss Delancy expatiated on her past theatrical
life, and the pictures hanging round the room. Miss was equally
communicative; and, in short, the Captain had all the secrets of the
little family in his possession ere sunset. He knew that Miss cared
little for either of her suitors, about whom mamma and papa had a little
quarrel. He heard Mrs. Crump talk of Morgiana's property, and fell more
in love with her than ever. Then came tea, the luscious crumpet, the
quiet game at cribbage, and the song--the song which poor Eglantine
heard, and which caused Woolsey's rage and his despair.
At the close of the evening the tailor was in a greater rage, and the
perfumer in greater despair than ever. He had made his little present
of eau-de-Cologne. “Oh fie!” says the Captain, with a horse-laugh, “it
SMELLS OF THE SHOP!” He taunted the tailor about his wig, and the honest
fellow had only an oath to give by way of repartee. He told his stories
about his club and his lordly friends. What chance had either against
the all-accomplished Howard Walker?
Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and wrong, hated the man;
Mrs. Crump did not feel quite at her ease regarding him; but Morgiana
thought him the most delightful person the world ever produced.
Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin neck-cloth
embroidered with butterflies and ornamented with a brandy-ball brooch, a
light shawl waistcoat, and a rhubarb-coloured coat of the sort which, I
believe, are called Taglionis, and which have no waist-buttons, and made
a pretence, as it were, to have no waists, but are in reality adopted by
the fat in order to give them a waist. Nothing easier for an obese man
than to have a waist; he has but to pinch his middle part a little, and
the very fat on either side pushed violently forward MAKES a waist,
as it were, and our worthy perfumer's figure was that of a bolster cut
almost in two with a string.
Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning in this costume,
twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy greasy fingers, glittering with
oil and rings, and looking so exceedingly contented and happy that the
estate-agent felt assured some very satisfactory conspiracy had been
planned between the tailor and him. How was Mr. Walker to learn what the
scheme was? Alas! the poor fellow's vanity and delight were such, that
he could not keep silent as to the cause of his satisfaction; and rather
than not mention it at all, in the fulness of his heart he would have
told his secret to Mr. Mossrose himself.
“When I get my coat,” thought the Bond Street Alnaschar, “I'll hire
of Snaffle that easy-going cream-coloured 'oss that he bought from
Astley's, and I'll canter through the Park, and WON'T I pass through
Little Bunker's Buildings, that's all? I'll wear my grey trousers with
the velvet stripe down the side, and get my spurs lacquered up, and a
French polish to my boot; and if I don't DO for the Captain, and the
tailor too, my name's not Archibald. And I know what I'll do: I'll hire
the small clarence, and invite the Crumps to dinner at the 'Gar and
Starter'” (this was his facetious way of calling the “Star and Garter”),
“and I'll ride by them all the way to Richmond. It's rather a long ride,
but with Snaffle's soft saddle I can do it pretty easy, I dare say.” And
so the honest fellow built castles upon castles in the air; and the last
most beautiful vision of all was Miss Crump “in white satting, with a
horange flower in her 'air,” putting him in possession of “her lovely
'and before the haltar of St. George's, 'Anover Square.” As for Woolsey,
Eglantine determined that he should have the best wig his art could
produce; for he had not the least fear of his rival.
These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's satisfaction, what
does he do but send out for half a quire of pink note-paper, and in a
filagree envelope despatch a note of invitation to the ladies at the
“Bootjack”:--
“BOWER OF BLOOM, BOND STREET:
“Thursday.
“MR. ARCHIBALD EGLANTINE presents his compliments to Mrs. and Miss
Crump, and requests the HONOUR AND PLEASURE of their company at the
'Star and Garter' at Richmond to an early dinner on Sunday next.
“IF AGREEABLE, Mr. Eglantine's carriage will be at your door at three
o'clock, and I propose to accompany them on horseback, if agreeable
likewise.”
This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to its destination; and
of course Mr. Eglantine went himself for the answer in the evening: and
of course he told the ladies to look out for a certain new coat he was
going to sport on Sunday; and of course Mr. Walker happens to call the
next day with spare tickets for Mrs. Crump and her daughter, when the
whole secret was laid bare to him--how the ladies were going to Richmond
on Sunday in Mr. Snaffle's clarence, and how Mr. Eglantine was to ride
by their side.
Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own; his magnificent friends at
the “Regent” had plenty in their stables, and some of these were at
livery at the establishment of the Captain's old “college” companion,
Mr. Snaffle. It was easy, therefore, for the Captain to renew his
acquaintance with that individual. So, hanging on the arm of my Lord
Vauxhall, Captain Walker next day made his appearance at Snaffle's
livery-stables, and looked at the various horses there for sale or
at bait, and soon managed, by putting some facetious questions to Mr.
Snaffle regarding the “Kidney Club,” etc. to place himself on a friendly
footing with that gentleman, and to learn from him what horse Mr.
Eglantine was to ride on Sunday.
The monster Walker had fully determined in his mind that Eglantine
should FALL off that horse in the course of his Sunday's ride.
“That sing'lar hanimal,” said Mr. Snaffle, pointing to the old horse,
“is the celebrated Hemperor that was the wonder of Hastley's some years
back, and was parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin's
wouldn't allow him to keep him no longer after the death of the first
Mrs. D., who invariably rode him. I bought him, thinking that p'raps
ladies and Cockney bucks might like to ride him (for his haction is
wonderful, and he canters like a harm-chair); but he's not safe on any
day except Sundays.”
“And why's that?” asked Captain Walker. “Why is he safer on Sundays than
other days?”
“BECAUSE THERE'S NO MUSIC in the streets on Sundays. The first gent that
rode him found himself dancing a quadrille in Hupper Brook Street to
an 'urdy-gurdy that was playing 'Cherry Ripe,' such is the natur of the
hanimal. And if you reklect the play of the 'Battle of Hoysterlitz,' in
which Mrs. D. hacted 'the female hussar,' you may remember how she
and the horse died in the third act to the toon of 'God preserve the
Emperor,' from which this horse took his name. Only play that toon to
him, and he rears hisself up, beats the hair in time with his forelegs,
and then sinks gently to the ground as though he were carried off by a
cannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite Hapsley 'Ouse so one day, and
since then I've never let him out to a friend except on Sunday, when, in
course, there's no danger. Heglantine IS a friend of mine, and of course
I wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I couldn't trust.”
After a little more conversation, my lord and his friend quitted Mr.
Snaffle's, and as they walked away towards the “Regent,” his Lordship
might be heard shrieking with laughter, crying, “Capital, by jingo!
exthlent! Dwive down in the dwag! Take Lungly. Worth a thousand pound,
by Jove!” and similar ejaculations, indicative of exceeding delight.
On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, Mr. Woolsey called at
Mr. Eglantine's with a yellow handkerchief under his arm. It contained
the best and handsomest body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It fitted
Eglantine to a nicety--it did not pinch him in the least, and yet it was
of so exquisite a cut that the perfumer found, as he gazed delighted
in the glass, that he looked like a manly portly high-bred gentleman--a
lieutenant-colonel in the army, at the very least.
“You're a full man, Eglantine,” said the tailor, delighted, too, with
his own work; “but that can't be helped. You look more like Hercules
than Falstaff now, sir, and if a coat can make a gentleman, a gentleman
you are. Let me recommend you to sink the blue cravat, and take the
stripes off your trousers. Dress quiet, sir; draw it mild. Plain
waistcoat, dark trousers, black neckcloth, black hat, and if there's a
better-dressed man in Europe to-morrow, I'm a Dutchman.”
“Thank you, Woolsey--thank you, my dear sir,” said the charmed perfumer.
“And now I'll just trouble you to try on this here.”
The wig had been made with equal skill; it was not in the florid style
which Mr. Eglantine loved in his own person, but, as the perfumer said,
a simple straightforward head of hair. “It seems as if it had grown
there all your life, Mr. Woolsey; nobody would tell that it was not
your nat'ral colour” (Mr. Woolsey blushed)--“it makes you look ten year
younger; and as for that scarecrow yonder, you'll never, I think, want
to wear that again.”
Woolsey looked in the glass, and was delighted too. The two rivals shook
hands and straightway became friends, and in the overflowing of his
heart the perfumer mentioned to the tailor the party which he had
arranged for the next day, and offered him a seat in the carriage and
at the dinner at the “Star and Garter.” “Would you like to ride?” said
Eglantine, with rather a consequential air. “Snaffle will mount you, and
we can go one on each side of the ladies, if you like.”
But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, and gladly consented to
take a place in the clarence carriage, provided he was allowed to bear
half the expenses of the entertainment. This proposal was agreed to by
Mr. Eglantine, and the two gentlemen parted to meet once more at the
“Kidneys” that night, when everybody was edified by the friendly tone
adopted between them.
Mr. Snaffle, at the club meeting, made the very same proposal to Mr.
Woolsey that the perfumer had made; and stated that as Eglantine was
going to ride Hemperor, Woolsey, at least, ought to mount too. But he
was met by the same modest refusal on the tailor's part, who stated that
he had never mounted a horse yet, and preferred greatly the use of a
coach.
Eglantine's character as a “swell” rose greatly with the club that
evening.
Two o'clock on Sunday came: the two beaux arrived punctually at the door
to receive the two smiling ladies.
“Bless us, Mr. Eglantine!” said Miss Crump, quite struck by him, “I
never saw you look so handsome in your life.” He could have flung his
arms around her neck at the compliment. “And law, Ma! what has happened
to Mr. Woolsey? doesn't he look ten years younger than yesterday?” Mamma
assented, and Woolsey bowed gallantly, and the two gentlemen exchanged a
nod of hearty friendship.
The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced along magnificently on his
cantering armchair, with his hat on one ear, his left hand on his side,
and his head flung over his shoulder, and throwing under-glances at
Morgiana whenever the “Emperor” was in advance of the clarence. The
“Emperor” pricked up his ears a little uneasily passing the Ebenezer
chapel in Richmond, where the congregation were singing a hymn, but
beyond this no accident occurred; nor was Mr. Eglantine in the least
stiff or fatigued by the time the party reached Richmond, where he
arrived time enough to give his steed into the charge of an ostler, and
to present his elbow to the ladies as they alighted from the clarence
carriage.
What this jovial party ate for dinner at the “Star and Garter” need
not here be set down. If they did not drink champagne I am very much
mistaken. They were as merry as any four people in Christendom; and
between the bewildering attentions of the perfumer, and the manly
courtesy of the tailor, Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant Captain,
or, at least, was very happy in his absence.
At eight o'clock they began to drive homewards. “WON'T you come into the
carriage?” said Morgiana to Eglantine, with one of her tenderest looks;
“Dick can ride the horse.” But Archibald was too great a lover of
equestrian exercise. “I'm afraid to trust anybody on this horse,” said
he with a knowing look; and so he pranced away by the side of the little
carriage. The moon was brilliant, and, with the aid of the gas-lamps,
illuminated the whole face of the country in a way inexpressibly lovely.
Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive notes of a bugle
were heard, and the performer, with great delicacy, executed a religious
air. “Music, too! heavenly!” said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to the
stars. The music came nearer and nearer, and the delight of the company
was only more intense. The fly was going at about four miles an hour,
and the “Emperor” began cantering to time at the same rapid pace.
“This must be some gallantry of yours, Mr. Woolsey,” said the romantic
Morgiana, turning upon that gentleman. “Mr. Eglantine treated us to the
dinner, and you have provided us with the music.”
Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dissatisfied during the
course of the evening's entertainment, by fancying that Eglantine, a
much more voluble person than himself, had obtained rather an undue
share of the ladies' favour; and as he himself paid half of the
expenses, he felt very much vexed to think that the perfumer should take
all the credit of the business to himself. So when Miss Crump asked if
he had provided the music, he foolishly made an evasive reply to her
query, and rather wished her to imagine that he HAD performed that
piece of gallantry. “If it pleases YOU, Miss Morgiana,” said this artful
Schneider, “what more need any man ask? wouldn't I have all Drury Lane
orchestra to please you?”
The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to the clarence carriage,
and if Morgiana had looked round she might have seen whence the music
came. Behind her came slowly a drag, or private stage-coach, with
four horses. Two grooms with cockades and folded arms were behind;
and driving on the box, a little gentleman, with a blue bird's-eye
neckcloth, and a white coat. A bugleman was by his side, who performed
the melodies which so delighted Miss Crump. He played very gently and
sweetly, and “God save the King” trembled so softly out of the brazen
orifice of his bugle, that the Crumps, the tailor, and Eglantine
himself, who was riding close by the carriage, were quite charmed and
subdued.
“Thank you, DEAR Mr. Woolsey,” said the grateful Morgiana; which made
Eglantine stare, and Woolsey was just saying, “Really, upon my word,
I've nothing to do with it,” when the man on the drag-box said to the
bugleman, “Now!”
The bugleman began the tune of--
“Heaven preserve our Emperor Fra-an-cis,
Rum tum-ti-tum-ti-titty-ti.”
At the sound, the “Emperor” reared himself (with a roar from Mr.
Eglantine)--reared and beat the air with his fore-paws. Eglantine flung
his arms round the beast's neck; still he kept beating time with
his fore-paws. Mrs. Crump screamed: Mr. Woolsey, Dick, the clarence
coachman, Lord Vauxhall (for it was he), and his Lordship's two grooms,
burst into a shout of laughter; Morgiana cries “Mercy! mercy!” Eglantine
yells “Stop!”--“Wo!”--“Oh!” and a thousand ejaculations of hideous
terror; until, at last, down drops the “Emperor” stone dead in the
middle of the road, as if carried off by a cannon-ball.
Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at the misery of
humanity, fancy the situation of poor Eglantine under the “Emperor”! He
had fallen very easy, the animal lay perfectly quiet, and the perfumer
was to all intents and purposes as dead as the animal. He had not
fainted, but he was immovable with terror; he lay in a puddle, and
thought it was his own blood gushing from him; and he would have lain
there until Monday morning, if my Lord's grooms, descending, had not
dragged him by the coat-collar from under the beast, who still lay
quiet.
“Play 'Charming Judy Callaghan,' will ye?” says Mr. Snaffle's man,
the fly-driver; on which the bugler performed that lively air, and up
started the horse, and the grooms, who were rubbing Mr. Eglantine down
against a lamp-post, invited him to remount.
But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies gladly made room for
him in the clarence. Dick mounted “Emperor” and rode homewards. The
drag, too, drove away, playing “Oh dear, what can the matter be?” and
with a scowl of furious hate, Mr. Eglantine sat and regarded his rival.
His pantaloons were split, and his coat torn up the back.
“Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald?” said Morgiana, with unaffected
compassion.
“N-not much,” said the poor fellow, ready to burst into tears.
“Oh, Mr. Woolsey,” added the good-natured girl, “how could you play such
a trick?”
“Upon my word,” Woolsey began, intending to plead innocence; but the
ludicrousness of the situation was once more too much for him, and he
burst out into a roar of laughter.
“You! you cowardly beast!” howled out Eglantine, now driven to
fury--“YOU laugh at me, you miserable cretur! Take THAT, sir!” and he
fell upon him with all his might, and well-nigh throttled the tailor,
and pummelling his eyes, his nose, his ears, with inconceivable
rapidity, wrenched, finally, his wig off his head, and flung it into the
road.
Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair. [2]