"Hold back your head, if you please, sir, that I may get this napkin
properly fastened--there now," said Toby Tims, as, securing the pin, he
dipped his razor into hot water, and began working up with restless
brush the lather of his soapbox.
"I dare say you have got a newspaper there," said I; "are you a
politician, Mr. Tims?"
"Oh, just a little bit of one. I get Bell's Messenger at second
hand from a neighbour, who has it from his cousin in the Borough,
who, I believe, is the last reader of a club of fourteen, who take
it among them; and, being last, as I observed, sir, he has the paper
to himself into the bargain.--Please exalt your chin, sir, and keep
your head a little to one side--there, sir," added Toby, cammencing
his operations with the brush, and hoarifying my barbal extremity,
as the facetious Thomas Hood would probably express it. "Now, sir--a
_leetle_ more round, if you please--there, sir, there. It is
a most entertaining paper, and beats all for news. In fact, it is
full of every thing, sir--every, every thing--accidents--charity
sermons--markets--boxing--Bible societies--horse racing--child
murders--the theatres--foreign wars--Bow-street
reports--electioneering--and Day and Martin's blacking."
"Are you a bit of a bruiser, Mr. Tims?"
"Oh, bless your heart, sir, only a _leetle_--a very _leetle_.
A turn-up with the gloves, or so, your honour. I'm but a light
weight--only a light weight--seven stone and a half, sir; but a rare bit
of stuff, though I say it myself, sir--Begging your pardon. I dare say I
have put some of the soap into your mouth. Now, sir, now--please let me
hold your nose, sir."
"Scarcely civil, Mr. Toby," said I, "scarcely civil--Phroo! let me spit
out the suds."
"I will be done in a moment, sir--in half a moment. Well, sir, speaking
of razors, they should be always properly tempered with hot water, a
_leetle_ dip more or less. You see now how it glides over, smooth
and smack as your hand.--Keep still, sir; I might have given you a nick
just now. You don't choose a _leetle_ of the mustachy left?"
"No, no--off with it all. No matrimonial news stirring in this quarter
just now, Mr. Tims?"
"Nothing extremely particular.--Now, sir, you are fit for the king's
levee, so far as my department is concerned. But you cannot go out just
now, sir--see how it rains--a perfect water-spout. Just feel yourself at
home, sir, for a _leetle_, and take a peep around you. That block,
sir, has been very much admired--extremely like the Wenus de
Medicine--capital nose--and as for the wig department, catch me for
that, sir. But of all them there pictures hanging around, yon is the
favourite of myself and the connessoors."
"Ay, Mr. Tims," said I, "that is truly a gem--an old lover kneeling at
the foot of his young sweetheart, and two fellows in buckram taking a
peep at them from among the trees."
"Capital, sir--capital. I'll tell you a rare good story, sir, connected
with that picture and my own history, with your honour's leave, sir."
"With all my heart, Mr. Tims--you are very obliging."
"Well then, sir, take that chair, and I will get on like a house on
fire; but if you please, don't put me off my clew, sir.--Concerning that
picture and my courtship, the most serious epoch of my life, there is
a _leetle_ bit of a story which I would like to be a beacon to
others; and if your honour is still a bachelor, and not yet stranded on
the shoals of matrimony, it may be _Werbum Sapienti_, as O'Toole,
the Irish schoolmaster, used to observe, when in the act of applying the
birch to the booby's back.
"Well, sir, having received a grammatical education, and been brought up
as a peruke-maker from my earliest years--besides having seen a deal of
high life, and the world in general, in carrying false curls, bandeaux,
and other artificial head-gear paraphernalia, in bandboxes to boarding
schools, and so on--a desire naturally sprung up within me, being now in
my twenty-first year, and worth a guinea a week of wages, to look about
for what old kind Seignor Fiddle-stringo, the minuet-master, used to
recommend under the title of a _cara sposa_--open shop--and act
head frizzle in an establishment of my own.
"Very good, sir--In the pursuit of this virtuous purpose, I cast a
sheep's eye over the broad face of society, and at length, from a number
of eligible specimens, I selected three, who, whether considered in the
light of natural beauty, or mental accomplishment, struck me forcibly as
suitable coadjutors for a man--for a man like your humble servant."
"A most royal bow that, Mr. Tims. Well, proceed, if you please."
"Very good, sir--well, then, to proceed. The first of these was Miss
Diana Tonkin, a young lady, who kept her brother's snuff-shop, at the
sign of the African astride the Tobacco Barrel--a rare beauty, who was
on the most intimate talking terms with half a hundred young bloods and
beaux, who looked in during lounging hours, being students of law,
physic, and divinity, half-pay ensigns, and theatrical understrappers,
to replenish their boxes with Lundyfoot, whiff a Havannah cigar, or
masticate pigtail. No wonder that she was spoiled by flattery, Miss
Diana, for she was a bit of a beauty; and though she had but one eye--by
heavens, what an eye that was!"
"She must have been an irresistible creature, certainly, Mr. Tims,"
said I. "Well, how did you come on?"
"Irresistible! but you shall hear, sir. I foresaw that, in soliciting
the honour of the fair damsel's hand, I should have much opposition to
encounter from the rivalry of the three learned professions, to say
nothing of the gentlemen of the sword and of the buskin; but, thinks
I to myself, 'faint heart never won fair lady,' so I at once set up a
snuff-box, looked as tip-topping as possible, and commenced canvassing.
"The second _elite_ (for I know a _leetle_ French, having for
three months, during my apprenticeship, had the honour of frizling the
head-gear of Count Witruvius de Caucason, who occupied private
state-lodgings at the sign of the Blue Boar in the Poultry, and who
afterwards decamped without clearing scores)--the second _elite_
(for I make a point, sir, of having two strings to my bow) was Mrs. Joan
Sweetbread, a person of exquisite parts, but fiery temper, at that time
aged thirty-three, twelve stone weight, head cook and housekeeper to Sir
Anthony Macturk, a Scotch baronet, who rusticated in the vicinity of
town. I made her a few evening visits, and we talked love affairs over
muffins and a cup of excellent congou. Then what a variety of jams and
jellies! I never returned without a disordered stomach, and wishing
Highland heather-honey at the devil. Yet, after all, to prove a
hoax!--for even when I was on the point of popping the question, and had
fastened my silk Jem Belcher with a knowing _leetle_ knot to set
out for that purpose, I learned from Francie, the stable-boy, that she
had the evening before eloped with the coachman, and returned to her
post that forenoon metamorphosed into Madam Trot.
"I first thought, sir, of hanging myself over the first lamp-post; but,
after a _leetle_ consideration, I determined to confound Madam
Trot, and all other fickle fair ones, by that very night marrying Miss
Diana. I hastened on, rushed precipitately into the shop, and on the
subject--and hear, oh heaven, and believe, oh earth! was met, not by a
plump denial, but was shown the door."
"Upon my word, Mr. Tims," said I, "you have been a most unfortunate man.
I wonder you recovered after such mighty reverses; but I hope----"
"Hope! that is the word, sir, the very word, I still had hope; so, after
ten days' horrible melancholy, in which I cropped not a few heads in a
novel and unprecedented style, I at it again, and laid immediate and
close siege to the last and loveliest of the trio--one by whom I was
shot dead at first sight, and of whom it might be said, as I once heard
Kean justly observe in a very pretty tragedy, and to a numerous
audience, 'We ne'er shall look upon her like again!'"
"Capital, Mr. Tims. Well, how did you get on?"
"A moment's patience, with your honour's leave.--Ah! truly might it be
said of her, that she was descended from the high and great--her
grandfather having been not only six feet three, without the shoes, but
for forty odd years principal bell-ringer in the steeple of St. Giles's,
Cripplegate; and her grandmother, for long and long, not only head
dry-nurse to one of the noblest families in all England, but _bona
fide_ twenty-two stone avoirdupois--so that it was once proposed, by
the undertaker, to bury her at twice! As to this nonpareil of lovely
flesh and blood, her name was Lucy Mainspring, the daughter of a
horologer, sir,--a watchmaker--_vulgo_ so called--and though
fattish, she was very fair--fair! by Jupiter, (craving your honour's
pardon for swearing,) she fairly made me give all other thoughts the
cut, and twisted the passions of my heart with the red-hot torturing
irons of love. 'Pon honour, sir, I almost grow foolish when I think of
those days; but love, sir, nothing can resist love."
"I hope, Mr. Tims, you were in better luck with Miss Mainspring?"
"A _leetle_ a _leetle_ patience, your honour, and all will be
out as quick as directly--in the twinkling of a bed-post.--For three
successive nights I sat up in a brown study, with a four-in-the-pound
candle burning before me till almost cock-crow, composing a love-letter,
a most elaborate affair, the pure overflowing of _la belle passion_,
all about Venus, Cupids, bows and arrows, hearts, darts, and them things,
which, having copied neatly over on a handsome sheet of foolscap, turned
up with gilt, (for, though I say it myself, I scribble a smart fist,) I
made a blotch of red wax on the back as large as a dollar, that thereon
I might the more indelibly impress a seal, with a couple of pigeons
cooing upon it, and '_toujours wotre_' for the motto. This I popped
into the post-office, and waited patiently--may I add confidently?--for
the result.
"No answer having come as I expected _per_ return, I began to smell
that I was in the wrong box; so, on the following evening, I had a
polite visit from her respectable old father, Daniel Mainspring, who
asked me what my intentions were?--'To commence wig-maker on my own
bottom,' answered I.--'But with respect to my daughter, sir?'--'Why, to
be sure, to make her mistress, sir.'--'Mistress!' quoth he, 'did I hear
you right, sir?'--'I hope you are not hard of hearing, Mr. Mainspring.
I wish, sir--between us, sir--you understand, sir--to marry her,
sir.'--'Then you can't have her, sir.'--'But I must, sir, for I can't
do without her, sir.'--'Then you may buy a rope.'--'Ah! you would not
sign my death-warrant--wouldn't you not now, Mr. Mainspring?'--'Before
going,' said he, rummaging his huge coat-pockets with both hands at
once, 'there is your letter, which I read over patiently, instead of my
daughter, who has never seen it; and I hope you will excuse the liberty
I take of calling you a great fool, and wishing you a good morning.'
"Now, though a lad of mettle, you know, sir, it would not have been
quite the thing to have called out my intended father-in-law; so, with
amazing forbearance, bridling my passion, I allowed him to march off
triumphantly, and stood, with the letter in my hand, looking down the
alley after him, strutting along, staff in hand, like a recruiting
sergeant, as if he had been a phoenix.
"A man of my penetration was not long in scenting out who was the
formidable rival to whom Daddy Mainspring alluded. _Sacre_! to
think the mercenary old hunks could dream of sacrificing my lovely
Lucy to such a hobgoblin of a fellow as a superannuated dragoon
quartermaster, with a beak like Bardolph's in the play. But I had some
confidence in my own qualifications; and as I gave a sly glance down at
my nether person, 'Dash-the-wig-of-him!' thought I to myself, 'if he can
sport a leg like that of Toby Tims.' I accordingly determined not to be
discomfited, and took the earliest opportunity of presenting Miss Lucy,
through a sure channel, with a passionate billet doux, a patent pair of
gilt bracelets, and a box of Ruspini's tooth-powder. By St. Patrick and
all the powers, it was shocking to suppose that such an angel as the
cherry-cheeked Lucy should be stolen from me by such an apology for a
gallant, as Quartermaster Bottlenose of the Tipperary Rangers. 'Twas
murder, by Jupiter."
"I perfectly agree with you, Mr. Tims; Did you challenge him to the
duello?"
"A _leetle_ patience, if you please, sir, and you shall hear
all. During the violence of my love-fits, I committed a variety of
professional mistakes. I sent at one time a pot of bear's grease away
by the mail, in a wig-box, to a member of parliament in Yorkshire; and
burned a whole batch of baked hair to ashes, while singing Moore's 'When
he who adores thee,' in attitude, before a block, dressed up for the
occasion with a fashionable wig upon it--to say nothing of my having, in
a fit of abstraction, given a beautiful young lady, who was going that
same evening to a Lord Mayor's ball, the complete charity-workhouse cut,
leaving her scalp as bare as the back of my hand. But cheer up!--to my
happy astonishment, sir, matters worked like a charm. What a
parley-vooing and billet-dooing passed between us! We would have
required a porter for the sole purpose. Then we had stolen interviews
of two hours' duration each, for several successive nights, at the
old horologer's back-door, during which, besides a multiplicity of
small-talk--thanks to his deafness--I tried my utmost to entrap her
affections, by reciting sonnets, and spouting bits of plays in the
manner of the tragedy performers. These were the happy times, sir! The
world was changed for me. Paddington canal seemed the river Pactolus,
and Rag-Fair Elysium!
"The old boy, however, ignorant of our orgies, was still bothering
his brains to bring about matrimony between his daughter and the
veteran--who, though no younger than Methusalem, as stiff as the
Monument, and as withered as Belzoni's Piccadilly mummy, had yet
the needful, sir--had abundance of the wherewithal--crops of yellow
shiners--lots of the real--sported a gig, and kept on board wages a
young shaver of all work, with a buff jacket, turned up with sky-blue
facings. Only think, sir--only ponder for a moment what a formidable
rival I had!"
"I hope you beat him off, however," said I. "The greater danger the more
honour you know, Mr. Tims."
"Of that anon, sir.--Lucy, on her part, angelic creature, professed that
she could not dream of being undutiful towards kind old Pa; and that,
unless desperate measures were resorted to, _quamprimum_, in the
twinkling of a bed-post she would be under the disagreeable necessity to
bundle and go with the disabled man of war to the temple of Hymen.
Sacrilegious thought! I could not permit it to enter my bosom, and
(pardon me for a moment, sir) when I looked down, and caught a glance of
my own natty-looking, tight little leg, and dapper Hessians, I
recommended her strongly to act on the principle of the Drury-lane
play-bill, which says, 'All for Love, or the World well lost.'
"Well, sir, hark ye, just to show how things come about. Shortly after
this, on the anniversary of my honoured old master, Zachariah Pigtail's
birth, when we were allowed to strike work at noon, I determined, as
a _dernier resort_, as a clincher, sir, to act the genteel, and
invite Miss Lucy, in her furs and falderals, to accompany me to the
Exhibition of Pictures. Heavens, sir, how I dressed on that day! The
Day and Martin of my boots reflected on the shady side of the street.
I took half an hour in tying and retying my neckcloth _en mode_.
My handkerchief smelt of lavender, and my hair of oil of thyme--my
waistcoat of bergamot, and my inexpressibles of musk. I was a perfect
civet for perfumery. My coat, cut in the jemmy fashion, I buttoned to
suffocation; but 'pon honour, believe me, sir, no stays, and my shirt
neck had been starched _per order_, to the consistence of tin.
In short, to be brief, I found, or fancied myself killing--a most
irresistible fellow.
"I did not dare, however, to call for Miss Lucy at old Pa's, but waited
for her at the corner of the street, patiently drumming on my boot, with
a knowing little bit of bamboo; and projecting my left arm to her, off
we marched in triumph.
"The Exhibition Rooms were crowded with the _ton_; and to be sure a
great many fine things were there. Would you had seen them, sir. There
were admirals in blue, and generals in red--portraits of my lord this,
and my lady that--land scenes, and sea scenes, and hunting scenes, with
thips, and woods, and old castles, all amazingly like life. In short,
sir, Providence seems to have guided us to the spot, where we saw a
picture--_the_ picture, sir--the pattern copy of that there
picture, sir--and heavens! such a piece of work--but of that anon--it
did the business, sir. No sooner had I perused it through my
quizzing-glass, which, I confess, that I had brought with me more for
ornament than use--having eyes like a hawk--than I pathetically
exclaimed to Lucy--'Behold, my love, the history of our fates!' Lucy
said, 'Tuts, Toby Tims,' and gave a giggle; but I went on in solemn
gravity, before a circle of seemingly electrified spectators.
"'Spose now, Miss Lucy,' said I, holding her by the finger of her
Limerick glove; 'spose now, that I had invited you to take an outside
seat on the Hampstead Flying Phoenix with me, to go out to a rural
junketing, on May day in the afternoon. Very well--there we find
ourselves alive and kicking, forty couple footing it on the green,
and choosing, according to our tastes, reels, jigs, minuets, or
bumpkins. 'Spose then, that I have handed you down to the bottom of
five-and-twenty couple at a country-dance, to the tune of Sir Roger
de Coverley, Morgiana in Ireland, Petronella, or the Triumph; and,
notwithstanding our having sucked a couple of oranges a-piece, we are
both quite in a broth of perspiration. Very good--so says I to you,
making a genteel bow, 'Do you please to walk aside, and cool yourself in
them there green arbours, and I will be with you as quick as directly,
with a glass of lemonade or cherry brandy?' So says you to me, dropping
a curtsey _a la mode_, 'With ineffable pleasure, sir;' and away you
trip into the shade like a sunbeam.
"'Now, Lucy, my love, take a good look of that picture. That is you,
'spose, seated on the turf, a _leetle_ behind the pillar dedicated
to Apollar; and you, blooming like a daffodilly in April, are waiting
with great thirst, and not a little impatience, for my promised
appearance, from the sign of the Hen and Chickens, with the cordials,
and a few biscuits on a salver--when, lo! an old bald-pated, oily-faced,
red-nosed Cameronian ranter, whom by your elegant negligee capering you
have fairly danced out of his dotard senses, comes pawing up to you like
Polito's polar bear, drops on his knees, and before you can avert your
nose from a love-speech, embalmed in the fumes of tobacco and purl, the
hoary villain has beslobbered your lily-white fingers, and is protesting
unalterable affection, at the rate of twelve miles an hour, inclusive of
stoppages. Now, Lucy, love, did you ever,--say upon your honour,--did
you ever witness such a spectacle of humanity? Tell me now?
"'Very well. Now, love, take a peep down the avenue, and yon is me, yon
tight, handsome little figure, with the Spanish cap and cloak, attended
by a trusty servant in the same costume, to whom I am pointing where he
is to bring the cherry-brandy; when, lo! we perceive the hideous
apparition!--and straightway rushing forward, like two tigers on a
jackass, we seize the wigless dotard, and, calling for a blanket, the
whole respectable company of forty couples and upwards, come crowding to
the spot, and lend a willing hand in rotation, four by four, in tossing
Malachi, the last of the lovers, till the breath of life is scarcely
left in his vile body.
"'Now Lucy,' says I, in conclusion, 'don't you see the confounded
absurdity of ever wasting a thought on a broken-down, bandy-legged,
beggarly dragoon? Just look at him, with an old taffeta whigmaleerie
tied to his back, like Paddy from Cork, with his coat buttoned behind!
Isn't he a pretty figure, now, to go a-courting? You would never forsake
the like of me--would you now? A spruce, natty little body of a
creature--to be the trollop of a spindle-shanked veteran, who, besides
having one foot in the grave, and a nose fit for three, might be your
great-grandfather?'
"It was a sight, sir, that would have melted the heart of a
wheel-barrow. Before the whole assembled exhibition-room, Lucy first
looked blue, and then blushed consent. 'Toby,' said she, 'don't mention
it, Toby, dear,--I am thine for ever and a day!' Angelic sounds, which
at once sent Bottlenose to Coventry. His chance was now weak indeed,
quite like Grantham gruel, three groats to a gallon of water. In an
ecstacy of passion, sir, I threw my silk handkerchief on the floor, and,
kneeling on it with one knee, I raised her gloveless fingers to my lips!
"The whole company clapped their hands, and laughed so heartily in
sympathy with my good luck! Oh! sir, had you but seen it--what a sight
for sore eyes that was!"
"Then you would indeed be the happy man at last, Mr. Tims," said I. "Did
you elope on the instant?"
"Just done, please your honour.--Next morning, according to special
agreement, we eloped in a gig; and, writing a penitent letter from the
Valentine and Orson at Chelsea, Daddy Mainspring found himself glad to
come to terms. Thrice were the banns published; and such a marriage as
we had! 'Pon honour, sir, I would you had been present. It was a thing
to be remembered till the end of one's life. A deputation of the
honourable the corporation of barbers duly attended, puffed out in full
fig; and even the old quartermaster, pocketing his disappointment, was,
at his own special petition, a forgiven and favoured guest. Seldom has
such dancing been seen within the bounds of London; and, with two
fiddles, a tambourin, and a clarionet, we made all the roofs ring, till
an early hour next morning--and that we did."
"You are a lucky fellow, Mr. Tims," said I.
"And more than that, sir. When old Mainspring kicks, we are to have the
counting of his mouldy coppers--so we have the devil's luck and our own;
and as for false curls, braids, bandeaux, Macassar oil, cold cream,
bear's-grease, tooth-powder, and Dutch toys, show me within the walls
of the City a more respectable, tip-topping perfumery depot and
wig-warehouse, than that wherein you now sit, and of which I, Tobias
Tims, am, with due respect, the honoured master, and your humble
servant!"
_Blackwood's Magazine_.
In addition to the foregoing, (which is one of the happiest pieces
in Goldsmith's style that we have read for a long time,) there is in
_Blackwood's Magazine_ an article of extraordinary graphic spirit,
occupying twenty-two pages. But we will attempt to abridge it for our
columns, as well as to give a sprinkling from the _Noctes_ in the
same number. All are in the best style of their vigorous masters.
* * * * *