assuming the shape of elongated O's--an epidemic that has extended to
the Wall-flowers; the "harp" has accompanied his instrument with fitful
snores; the "violin" scarcely knows the back from the front of his
fiddle, or the "cornet" which end to blow into;--yet, upon being asked
for "Roger de Coverley," they make a desperate effort to awake, for they
know it to be the last dance--which is supported by the whole strength
of the company,--Captain de Camp leading off with Mrs. Brown, and Mr.
Brown with Lady Lucretia. Thus ends the Christmas Ball!
The still-room is being besieged for coffee; and there is a great
difficulty in obtaining hats and coats--unfortunately few of the tickets
corresponding,--for Alphonso's ward was precipitated down the kitchen
stairs, it having been too heavily laden. Lady and Miss Highbury are
seen to their carriage by Mr. Lark, who departs in Lord Towney's cab,
with a "_Gibus_" hat, mechanically deranged--all wrinkles, like a
jockey's boot. Upon being asked, by a lanthorn-bearer, "if his Honor has
such a thing as a pint o' beer in his pocket?" Mr. Lark, with playful
irony, informs the supernumerary that malt liquor is not a solid,
neither is it to be obtained at evening parties.
To and fro, flit the Jack-o'-lanthorns, respectfully touching the
binding of their battered hats, covering the tiers of muddy wheels with
their coat-tails, that the _tulle_ and _tartelaine_ may not be
spoiled--hoping your Honour will "remember" them!--as they cast
uncertain shadows upon the icy pavement--ice that has been rendered none
the less slippery by their cutting out a slide upon it, with the
assistance of the police, during the evening:--such a banging of doors,
clashing of steps, and stopping up the way, under the little awning,
over the carriage-sweep--a pretty pass, so narrow that, we are sorry to
say, the hackney-drivers instituted a private road amongst the hardy
shrubs, choking up the gates, to the great distress of pedestrians, who
are looked upon by the "lanthorns" as "shabby gents,"--paying nothing
for the privilege of walking;--they (the "lanthorns") viewing the
immunity, in the light of parsimony. However, we think walking home,
after a party, under the influence of champagne, a dangerous
experiment:--the clear free streets seeming to court a "lark," and the
very bells to invite pulling--"Visitors'," and "Night," "Knock and
Ring," (and run) also.
We have since heard the fate of a rash expedition undertaken at this
season, the band of adventurers consisting mostly of those gentlemen who
had passed the last half-hour dying for a cigar; and yet, by some
unknown attractive power, felt bound to stay the entertainment
out--probably it was that such kindred souls might depart _en masse_;
however, be it what it might, their first care was to obtain a light--at
some sacrifice, for the lamp-post had been newly painted; and, secondly,
happening to pass Mr. Spohf's, they must serenade that gentleman with
pathetic negro-melodies--about the loss of one "Mary Blane," and an
injunction to "Susannah" not to sob,--until driven by the police into
another beat, there to lose one of their band, who fell a victim to an
inquiring spirit;--for, seeing an inscription on a door, to intimate
that its owner, a surgeon, gave "advice, gratis, between the hours of
four and five, every Saturday," he rang to demand the same (having the
head-ache), as it was just that time by St. Stiff's; but, unfortunately
falling into the clutches of No. 8, of the A division, he had to receive
the advice, from a magistrate, between eleven and twelve, at a fee of
five shillings.
[Illustration]
We left Mr. Lark in Lord Towney's cab--again to take up with him, being
put down at the end of Bloomsbury Buildings, fearing the rattle of
wheels in that quiet _cul-de-sac_ would disturb the old Larks. Having
found the door, and spent five minutes by the hinges--searching for the
key-hole, he gets within; and spends five more--trying to ignite an
extinguisher;--cautiously stealing to bed, throwing his _paletôt_ over
the top banister, and the contents of its pockets down the
well-staircase, to the awakening of the whole house.
At Victoria Villa the last guest has gone:--the De Camps have
gone--departed with cordiality and love for all that is Brown, at the
same time sadly mortified with the impression made on that worthy
gentleman's friends. Mrs. Brown, worn out and exhausted, has given a
parting glance round, with her night-lamp, and panted up to-bed; the
Misses Brown have retired to their chambers; John feels very much
inclined to proclaim his opinion of the Captain, but is fearful of the
consequences; and Mr. Strap, who has fallen a victim to his weak
point--strong drink, is rendered thereby quite incapable of making
either a base to his person, or a fluent speech, as it seems he wished;
for, upon meeting Mr. Brown by the stairs, he made a rush at the
esteemed proprietor of that name, prophetically bidding him to
"B-B-Beware of Captings in w-w-w-wolf's clo-o-othing, fur all isn't
gug-gug-gold as gl-l-l-litters, as the Rev-rind Miss-s-s-ster B-B-Bucket
observes, in the Proverbs of Sol'mon's songs." Mr. Strap, after having
delivered these sentiments, in what might have been called a _sotto_
voice, to an imaginary Mr. Brown (for the reality had withdrawn to bed),
performs an unsuccessful backward movement upon his heels--as if to
survey his victim,--coming to the ground; where he lay until borne off
by John, who thinks him a valiant fool.
The persevering Brown, though much fatigued, does not postpone the
Diary:--"January 4_th_, _Friday_--_Execrable_ Friday!--We this day gave
our Annual Ball--_we_, indeed!--why I knew nothing about it until all
the cards had been despatched. Mrs. Brown asks--just as Tom does, if he
may have the sugar, when it is half consumed:--_It was Mrs. Brown's
ball_ in every sense. I did hope to have experienced more enjoyment for
the money. I have many a time been happier at half the price;--ay,
happier when I was clerk at Chizzle and Filch's, in Aldermanbury; but,
somehow, I suppose a man must make sacrifices for his friends, as
penurious old Chizzle did, when he paid the debt of nature, and left to
me _that_ he could not take away! Not that I ever made any sacrifices
for Spohf--no, _he_ never asked it;--cheap trusty friendship is
_something_!--I must own to feeling, all the evening, as if my collar
had too much starch therein; and more out of place in my own house than
the 'white neckerchiefs' that waited at supper. I am like a fish out of
water, and that fish, a flat-fish--caught with a bit of red rag;
however, there must be a great deal in use--another element may be
delightful, when used to it. There is no doubt my old friend Wideawake's
attack upon the Captain was mere envy; and as to his insinuating that I
should never eat a peck of salt with _that_ man--to say I shall never
know _that_ man, is preposterous!--as to eating the literal peck, no
man, probably, will do that; for the Captain has an aversion to saline
food, saying it makes the bones soft. I wonder if it has the same effect
upon brains!--We shall see, Wideawake--we _shall_ see:--let this page
bear testimony! I hope the briny ocean may not swallow up the Captain's
luggage."
Victoria and Albert slumber late on the morning of the 5th:--Alphonso is
the first up--or rather down, having rolled off his uncomfortable bed,
constructed upon four chairs, in the drawing-room. Mrs. Brown, too, must
have risen on the wrong side of her teaster, so testy is she this
morning--thanking her stars that Twelfth-day has arrived, to put an end
to the Christmas miseries!--Soon, now, will that little pest, Tom,
be packed back to "Tortwhack House;" and the juvenile party, of to-day,
it is hoped may appease some rampant mammas uninvited to the grand
_réunion_--rendering any petty excuses that may be given the more
feasible.
The day rolls rapidly away, though not with half the speed Master Brown
could desire--the hands of the hall-clock appearing to creep so, that
every time Tom passed it (and that was not seldom), he stopped to see if
it was going, the day seeming most unusually long, and night as if it
never would come; but it did!--firstly, bringing the little "Merrys,"
from Hope Cottage, the Tudor lodge, next-door-but-one--Master Walter
Merry being the first to answer Tommy's nubbly note of invitation, in
intoxicated text capitals, that appeared to be making a desperate effort
to run off the paper, at the right-hand corner, leaving no room to
"remain," and scarcely any to "please turn over;" so folded was it, to
give the desired angular form, that the paper looked as if it had been
used to make five hundred geometrical cocks and boats.
Tom met the Merrys with such fervent joy, that he never thought they had
healths, or anything else to ask after; his only object, seeming to be
the finding of his friend, who is rolled, like a mummy, in numberless
boas and shawls:--during the process of unswathing, which was no easy
job to one in a hurry, so artfully were the pins introduced, Master
Tommy treats his friend Walter to a railroad retrospective review of the
good things in store--recounting all the "lummy" things left
yesterday;--telling about the "nobby" Christmas tree Captain de Camp
gave them--though his ma' did say it was "a pretty give!"--it was stolen
out of _his_ father's garden.--My father's a jolly sight richer than
your's--he has more trees in his garden--ain't we got a "swag" of nuts,
and a "plummy" twelfth-cake--my father won it at an _art-union_, in the
city! I am to draw King--if I don't, just see how I'll cry!--Mercy Merry
shall be Queen. You shall have Punch off the cake; and ma'says I shall
have "Rule Britannia," as soon as the waves and ice have melted away.
[Illustration]
Now a knock brings more visitors, the Masters Young, in all the
ungainliness of hobbledyhoyhood--that transmigratory period when
coat-tails are first developed:--they have come with their sister Flora,
a lovely bud, expected "out" next season. Here are the Bells, the
Petits, and the little Larks, with their big brother, the "jolly Lark,"
who made his _début_ over the top of the drawing-room-door, standing
upon the shoulders of your humble servant; who felt the "jolly Lark"
anything but light, and no joke--though the juveniles must have thought
it so, for we could hear their merry peals of laughter ringing joyously,
dispelling the silence that had hitherto prevailed, overturning the sage
injunctions of _proper_ mammas, who teach their children to behave
"pretty"--thinking _good_ and _quiet_ synonymous. Somehow, the little
fellows, unfortunately, take the Lark for Mr. Spohf, who has hitherto
done the funny in a refined style, scarcely to be imagined--an elegant,
amiable, fun,--a mixture of the buffoon and gentleman, the sublime and
the ridiculous, quite marvellous to behold,--making our little friend
(who you are aware was moulded in one of Nature's odd freaks) appear,
to tender imaginations, almost supernatural. The mistake and misplaced
approbation is very galling to Mrs. Brown; so much so that she becomes
angry with the tea-urn, and, in turn, burns her fingers--venting her ire
in the shape of a box on the ears of Master Bold, who ventured to hint
Mr. Spohf's absence a "jolly shame;" and, now vows to tell his
mamma--a thing it is very evident Mrs. Brown does not wish, for she has
shown a great deal of favour and contrition towards the young gentleman
since.
The tea-tray having been removed, the burners of the chandelier
heightened, and the Snuffle family had their row of little noses
polished by the eldest sister, preparations begin:--Miss Jemima playing
the pretty little "Hop o'my Thumb Polka," and Tom, who has been sitting
very quietly beside Mercy Merry (vowing to marry her at fourteen, for
"his father is so rich that he would give him five pounds a year to live
upon"), leads off, much to the mortification of those boys who will not
be "young gentlemen"--the many who won't, can't, and shan't dance! but,
being bent upon mischief, dispose explosive spiders and chair-crackers
about the carpet;--one little mischievous fellow wishing he had brought
some pepper to strew on the floor, and make 'em sneeze; however, they
get up a little excitement another way with the sofa-pillows, a sham
fight, in which a parian Amazon falls beside Marian Bell, who "didn't go
to do it;" so dancing is relinquished for games to suit all
parties:--Hunt the Slipper, a sport carried on with great spirit, until
it is found there are slippers enough for three--a thing everybody holds
to be cheatery:--so that game is abandoned for Blind-man's-buff, the
mere mention of which, carries us back to childhood; and, as authors
often lug in their thoughts (bits of nature) very unceremoniously, and
at odd times, we may, possibly, be pardoned or praised for so doing.
Well, we never hear mention of this game but we think of a bump we once
received during the sport, our blind ardour causing us to flounder in a
fender, and bruise our head, the remains of which will be taken to the
"long home." Well do we remember the spotted turban worn on that
occasion--for we recollect, at the time, thinking "Belcher" a new term,
just coined;--having our crown rubbed with brandy and taking a little
internally, which appeared attracted by that externally, for it got in
our head and made us very merry, causing the hiccups to such an extent,
that we were called _Sir Toby Belch_ of "Twelfth Night; or, What you
Will" notoriety (having drawn that character). Thus, brandy, Belchers,
and Blind-man's-buff, hold an indissoluble partnership in our
memory--a remnant of those days when we imagined a Jew incapable of
dealing in other merchandise than old clothes; or of shaving like a
Christian, or, if he did, would do other than expose a pendant chin,
resembling the _vertebræ_ of a horse's tail. Oh! those days have
flown--days when we imagined peas split by hand, and thought humanity
fools for not making soup with whole ones--but we are sadly
digressing!--"It's not fair!" cry twenty voices--"the blind man can
see;" and so he could, for he always caught Miss Brown, who, afraid of
the piano or pier-glass, would stand in the way:--so that sport is
relinquished for cake and Characters; the former seeming to afford great
gratification, and the latter little, save to the King and Queen--all
other characters being, like the riddles, "given up,"--no one caring to
know when a sailor is not a sailor?--when he's a-_board_: or to be bored
with a door's being a-_jar_, and a man a-_shaving_.
[Illustration]
The rich cake is soon a ruin; so much is every part of it relished, that
one young gentleman has consumed the head and shoulders of Madame
Alboni, under a delusion of her being sugar, and not "plaster of
parish," as Mrs. Brown afterwards said it was. The little fellows soon
get very mirthful on the ginger-wine; keeping up a continual buzz, like
a colony of bees, sadly itching to be at something--a wish that is not
to be realized at once, for little Miss Newsoince is going to do that
eternal tattoo, the "_Rataplan_:"--yes, there she is, in Tom's felt-hat
and polonaise, as "_La Vivandière_," thumping upon an empty band-box
with two knitting-pins, singing, as some of the mammas say, very
prettily; but as the boys, who have heard it many times before,
designate it "a jolly bother!"--"a great big shame!"--"a precious dummy
set out!"--and so on,--there being no _fun_ in it.
This hum-drum over, a great cry is raised for _Forfeits_!--and a desire
that _a lady_ should _go out in a very great hurry_, as it would appear,
almost in a state of destitution; for every young lady and gentleman
proffers to stand for some article of dress. Having settled what
they will give, all sit round upon chairs, ready to hear the
_lady's_ demands:--spin goes the trencher, and she wants her
_Stockings_!--forward fly the hose, personated by a little fellow, with
mottled legs, who had never stood in other than socks, but for all that
can catch the revolving waiter, look slyly at _Bonnet_, make him think
it his turn, and impudently call out "_Cap!_!"--so _Bonnet_ and _Cap_
knock head to head, tumble on the trencher, and get fined. _Bonnet_
shouts "_Boots!_"--_Boots_ begets "_Bustle!_"--and _Bustle_ begets a
grand stir, by calling "_Double Toilet!_"--causing the whole wardrobe
to leap from every chair, in every direction, a general confusion,--in
which the _Boa_ slips off his seat, and forfeits a twenty-bladed knife.
The _Boa_, spinning the tray again, calls "_Muff!_"--who, not being on
the alert, arrives when the waiter has wabbled its last, so the _Muff_
has to pay a forfeit; but having nothing eligible upon his person, is
found a substitute, in a very ugly China pug-dog, afterwards called
"_a very pretty thing_" by Miss Angelina to Miss Jemima, who awarded the
penalties, like a blind Justice saying her prayers, passing sentence,
in the lap of the judge, who demands--"_Here's a pretty thing, a very
pretty thing; and what is the owner of this very pretty thing to be done
to?_"
[Illustration:
HERE'S A LADY GOING OUT, IN A VERY GREAT HURRY, AND SHE WANTS--
A DOUBLE TOILET!]
Angelina sentencing the owner of the pretty pug to take a very pretty
young lady into the corner, and spell "_op-por-tu-ni-ty_"--a spell the
_Muff_ does not seem to know lies in taking the _opportunity_ to kiss
the fair one, though he has all the evening been admiring her vastly,
and would have given anything for such a chance; but next, having to
"_lie the length of a looby, the breadth of a booby_," _&c._, he is
eminently successful--yet, who shall say the ungainly cub may not one
day be an ornament to society! Poor _Muff_! he has no mother or
sisters--the only specimens of girlhood known to him are the maids at
home, and the school-master's daughter, that dines with the
parlour-boarders at Addle House:--brave boy, thou art clever, but
semi-civilized! More "_pretty things_" are being redeemed--fans, gloves,
lockets, handkerchiefs, and chatelaines,--all their owners being
appropriately "done to:"--the _Boa_ condemned to "bite a yard off the
poker;" and the _Visite_ to "salute the one he likes best"--which
_Garters_ fancies will be her; so, she embraces the table-pillar, and he
the _Berthe_, instead--kissing her, sadly to the mortification of
_Garters_, who did think the honour worth some trouble. Jemima and
Angelina, having disposed of the judicial pawn-brokering establishment,
stroke down their skirts, and send round the currant-wine; whilst Master
Tom and a few other daring youths consume lighted candle-ends, made of
turnip, with almond wicks; and the merry little man, Lark, who can no
more be quiet than a robin in a rat-trap, is now hopping with a paper
tail, composed of this evening's "_Sun_"--a sun that seems to be
incombustible, for the boys are trying to ignite it, but cannot,--only
waxing Mr. Lark's pantaloons very much in the rear, and putting the
candles out--a trick that caused no end of diversion, not only to the
performers, but to every one; who laughed immoderately, more
particularly when Mr. Lark led down Mrs. Brown to supper, the
antimacassar adhering to his trowsers--the wax, upon sitting down,
causing it to stick there.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE CHRISTMAS TREE.]
This brings us to the supper-table, and the Christmas tree, with its
blossoms of light--a very peculiar species of shrub:--we have heard of
box-trees, plane-trees, lady's slippers, and sun-flowers, but never
remember to have seen or heard of a toy and candle-tree, figured in any
work on botany; nor should we have thought our little friends had ever
beheld one before, for the brilliant supper seemed but small attraction
compared with the illuminated fir--all eyes appeared attracted to the
quarter in which it stood; and when the youthful company were introduced
to it, after the banquet, we felt glad the lower boughs were out of the
reach of the younger branches, or they might, in their eagerness, have
pulled it out of the disguised tub. As it was, some of the recipients
took the fruit intended for others:--for instance, Stephen Sharp ate all
Miss Standby's basket of sweets, and then demanded the story-book that
had his name attached to it. All the fruit was not edible, for we saw an
apple that tasted very much of the wood, being full of pips resembling
doll's tea-things; whilst, upon suction, the pears emitted musical
sounds; and a biffin, like a pincushion, had the flavour of
bran--probably it was bran-new.
[Illustration]
The tree, now stript, is quite devoid of interest; for, upon Mr. Lark's
starting some fun in the corner, none lingered by, not even to listen to
the bird-organ, that appeared to play under the table. Yes! there was
Lark, at it again--doing anything to please!--Generous Lark!--his face
covered with a white handkerchief, a portion tucked in his mouth, over
all wearing a pair of spectacles, with pupils (currants abstracted from
a mince-pie) stuck thereon, causing the Lark to look very curious and
odd--the children wondering what he will be at next!--for now, you must
know, he has gone to prepare another excitement; being in the
drawing-room, whilst the visitors are in the parlour--curious beyond all
description, beseeching the junior Mr. Brown, who is standing with his
back against the door, to prevent egress, just to permit them to depart;
which, after a slight contest, he does--they rushing, pell-mell, to the
drawing-room, there to find an old birch-broom blazing in the grate, and
the recess covered with two sheets suspended by forks. In front of the
sheets is a table; whilst in front of that table, stand the wondering
little crowd, speculating as to what the burning broom can have to do
with it, when a dwarf old dame appears, through a slit in the
drapery--as perfect a dwarf as ever breathed,--but three feet high, and
so really true that no one for a moment doubts her identity or vitality.
"She is a Witch!" cry all, that has come down the chimney. The dame bows
acquiescence, with numberless courtseys, telling the little company of
her immense age and adventures--recounting her history:--about the large
family she kept in the shoe; about the refractory pig, that would not
get over the stile; and her wonderful travels, to sweep cobwebs from the
sky; so, after having danced a hornpipe; deplored the loss of her
carriage (_broom_); demanded the grunting pig, behind the curtain, to be
quiet; and scraped an infinity of courtseys, she vanishes:--the sharpest
boy in the room, Master Bold, rushing down stairs to catch a glimpse of
her, but only seeing us, in our shirt sleeves, wonders the more!--_par
parenthèse_--we were one of the performers, escaping, to make room for
the Galanti show. So, whilst we leave the company to be amused thereby,
we will, with the kind permission of Mr. Lark, instruct you how to
construct an old dame; and afterwards tell the effect it had upon our
audience:--
[Illustration]