profusion of flounces, laces, marabouts, jewels, and eau-de-Cologne, rose to
welcome us from a stately sofa, where she sat surrounded by her children. These,
too, were in brilliant dresses, with shining new-combed hair. The ladies, of
course, instantly began to talk about their children, and my wife's unfeigned
admiration for Mrs. Mugford's last baby I think won that worthy lady's goodwill
at once. I made some remark regarding one of the boys as being the picture of
his father, which was not lucky. I don't know why, but I have it from her
husband's own admission, that Mrs. Mugford always thinks I am "chaffing" her.
One of the boys frankly informed me there was goose for dinner; and when a
cheerful cloop was heard from a neighbouring room, told me that was Pa drawing
the corks. Why should Mrs. Mugford reprove the outspoken child and say, "James,
hold your tongue, do now?" Better wine than was poured forth when those corks
were drawn, never flowed from bottle.??I say, I never saw better wine nor more
bottles. If ever a table may be said to have groaned, that expression might with
justice be applied to Mugford's mahogany. Talbot Twysden would have feasted
forty people with the meal here provided for eight by our most hospitable
entertainer. Though Mugford's editor was present, all the honours of the
entertainment were for the Paris Correspondent, who was specially requested to
take Mrs. M. to dinner. As an earl's grand-nephew, and a lord's great-grandson,
of course we felt that this place of honour was Firmin's right. How Mrs. Mugford
pressed him to eat! She carved??I am very glad she would not let Philip carve
for her, for he might have sent the goose into her lap??she carved, I say, and I
really think she gave him more stuffing than to any of us, but that may have
been mere envy on my part. Allusions to Lord Ringwood were repeatedly made
during dinner. "Lord R. has come to town, Mr. F., I perceive," says Mugford,
winking. "You've been to see him, of course?" Mr. Firmin glared at me very
fiercely, he had to own he had been to call on Lord Ringwood. Mugford led the
conversation to the noble lord so frequently that Philip madly kicked my shins
under the table. I don't-know how many times I had to suffer from that foot
which in its time has trampled on so many persons: a kick for each time Lord
Ringwood's name, houses, parks, properties, were mentioned, was a frightful
allowance. Mrs. Mugford would say, "May I assist you to a little pheasant, Mr.
Firmin? I daresay they are not as good as Lord Ringwood's" (a kick from Philip),
or Mugford would exclaim, "Mr. F., try that 'ock! Lord Ringwood hasn't better
wine than that." (Dreadful punishment upon my tibia under the table.) "John! Two
'ocks, me and Mr. Firmin! Join us, Mr. P.," and so forth. And after dinner, to
the ladies??as my wife, who betrayed their mysteries, informed me??Mrs.
Mugford's conversation was incessant regarding the Ringwood family and Firmin's
relationship to that noble house. The meeting of the old lord and Firmin in
Paris was discussed with immense interest. His lordship called him Philip most
affable! he was very fond of Mr. Firmin. A little bird had told Mrs. Mugford
that somebody else was very fond of Mr. Firmin. She hoped it would be a match,
and that his lordship would do the handsome thing by his nephew. What? My wife
wondered that Mrs. Mugford should know about Philip's affairs? (and wonder
indeed she did.) A little bird had told Mrs. M??, a friend of both ladies, that
dear, good little nurse Brandon, who was engaged??and here the conversation went
off into mysteries which I certainly shall not reveal. Suffice it that Mrs.
Mugford was one of Mrs. Brandon's best, kindest, and most constant patrons??or
might I be permitted to say matrons???and had received a most favourable report
of us from the little nurse. And here Mrs. Pendennis gave a verbatim report not
only of our hostess's speech, but of her manner and accent. "Yes, ma'am," says
Mrs. Mugford to Mrs. Pendennis, "our friend Mrs. B. has told me of a certain
gentleman whose name shall be nameless. His manner is cold, not to say 'aughty.
He seems to be laughing at people sometimes??don't say No; I saw him once or
twice at dinner, both him and Mr. Firmin. But he is a true friend, Mrs. Brandon
says he is. And when you know him, his heart is good." Is it? Amen. A
distinguished writer has composed, in not very late days, a comedy of which the
cheerful moral is, that we are "not so bad as we seem." Aren't we? Amen, again.
Give us thy hearty hand, Iago! Tartuffe, how the world has been mistaken in you!
Macbeth! put that little affair of the murder out of your mind. It was a
momentary weakness; and who is not weak at times? Blifil, a more maligned man
than you does not exist! O humanity! how we have been mistaken in you! Let us
expunge the vulgar expression "miserable sinners" out of all prayer-books; open
the portholes of all hulks; break the chains of all convicts; and unlock the
boxes of all spoons.
As we discussed Mr. Mugford's entertainment on our return home, I improved the
occasion with Philip, I pointed out the reasonableness of the hopes which he
might entertain of help from his wealthy kinsman, and actually forced him to
promise to wait upon my lord the next day. Now when Philip Firmin did a thing
against his will, he did it with a bad grace. When he is not pleased, he does
not pretend to be happy: and when he is sulky, Mr. Firmin is a very disagreeable
companion. Though he never once reproached me afterwards with what happened, I
own that I have had cruel twinges of conscience since. If I had not sent him on
that dutiful visit to his grand uncle, what occurred might never, perhaps, have
occurred at all. I acted for the best, and that I aver; however I may grieve for
the consequences which ensued when the poor fellow followed my advice.
If Philip held aloof from Lord Ringwood in London, you may be sure Philip's dear
cousins were in waiting on his lordship, and never lost an opportunity of
showing their respectful sympathy. Was Lord Ringwood ailing? Mr. Twysden, or
Mrs. Twysden, or the dear girls, or Ringwood their brother, were daily in his
lordship's antechamber, asking for news of his health. They bent down
respectfully before Lord Ringwood's major-domo. They would have given him money,
as they always averred, only what sum could they give to such a man as Rudge?
They actually offered to bribe Mr. Rudge with their wine, over which he made
horrible faces. They fawned and smiled before him always. I should like to have
seen that calm Mrs. Twysden, that serene, high-bred woman, who would cut her
dearest friend if misfortune befel her, or the world turned its back;?? I should
like to have seen, and can see her in my mind's eye, simpering and coaxing, and
wheedling this footman. She made cheap presents to Mr. Rudge: she smiled on him
and asked after his health. And of course Talbot Twysden flattered him too in
Talbot's jolly way. It was a wink, and nod, and a hearty how do you do??and
(after due inquiries made and answered about his lordship) it would be, "Rudge!
I think my housekeeper has a good glass of
port wine in her room, if you happen
to be passing that way, and my lord don't want you!" And with a grave courtesy,
I can fancy Mr. Rudge bowing to Mr. and Mrs. Twysden, and thanking them, and
descending to Mrs. Blenkinsop's skinny room where the port wine is ready??and if
Mr. Rudge and Mrs. Blenkinsop are confidential, I can fancy their talking over
the characters and peculiarities of the folks upstairs. Servants sometimes
actually do; and if master and mistress are humbugs these wretched menials
sometimes find them out.
Now, no duke could be more lordly and condescending in his bearing than Mr.
Philip Firmin towards the menial throng. In those days, when he had money in his
pockets, he gave Mr. Rudge out of his plenty; and the man remembered his
generosity when he was poor: and declared??in a select society, and in the
company of the relative of a person from whom I have the information??declared
in the presence of Captain Gann at the Admiral B??ng Club in fact, that Mr. Heff
was always a swell; but since he was done, he, Rudge, "was blest if that young
chap warn't a greater swell than hever." And Rudge actually liked this poor
young fellow better than the family in Walpole Street, whom Mr. R. pronounced to
be "a shabby lot." And in fact it was Rudge as well as myself, who advised that
Philip should see his lordship.
When at length Philip paid his second visit, Mr. Rudge said, "My lord will see
you, sir, I think. He has been speaking of you. He's very unwell. He's going to
have a fit of the gout, I think. I'll tell him you are here." And coming back to
Philip, after a brief disappearance, and with rather a scared face, he repeated
the permission to enter, and again cautioned him, saying, that "my lord was very
queer."
In fact, as we learned afterwards, through the channel previously indicated, my
lord, when he heard that Philip had called, cried, "He has, has he. Hang him,
send him in;" using, I am constrained to say, in place of the monsyllable
"hang," a much stronger expression.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" says my lord. "You have been in London ever so long.
Twysden told me of you yesterday."
"I have called before, sir," said Philip, very quietly.
"I wonder you have the face to call at all, sir!" cries the old man, glaring at
Philip. His lordship's countenance was of a gamboge colour: his noble eyes were
blood-shot and starting; his voice, always very harsh and strident, was now
specially unpleasant; and from the crater of his mouth, shot loud exploding
oaths.
"Face! my lord?" says Philip, still very meek.
"Yes, if you call that a face which is covered over with hair like a baboon!"
growled my lord, showing his tusks. "Twysden was here last night, and tells me
some pretty news about you."
Philip blushed; he knew what the news most likely would be.
"Twysden says that now you are a pauper, by George, and living by breaking
stones in the street,??you have been such an infernal, drivelling, hanged fool,
as to engage yourself to another pauper!"
Poor Philip turned white from red; and spoke slowly: "I beg your pardon, my
lord, you said??"
"I said you were a hanged fool, sir!" roared the old man; "can't you hear?"
"I believe I am a member of your family, my lord," says Philip, rising up. In a
quarrel, he would some times lose his temper, and speak out his mind; or
sometimes, and then he was most dangerous, he would be especially calm and
Grandisonian.
"Some hanged adventurer, thinking you were to get money from me, has hooked you
for his daughter, has he?"
"I have engaged myself to a young lady, and I am the poorer of the two," says
Philip.
"She thinks you will get money from me," continues his lordship.
"Does she? I never did!" replied Philip.
"By heaven, you shan't, unless you give up this rubbish."
"I shan't give her up, sir, and I shall do without the money," said Mr. Firmin
very boldly.
"Go to Tartarus!" screamed the old man.
On which Philip told us, "I said, 'Seniores priores, my lord,' and turned on my
heel. So you see if he was going to leave me something, and he nearly said he
was, that chance is passed now, and I have made a pretty morning's work." And a
pretty morning's work it was: and it was I who had set him upon it! My brave
Philip not only did not rebuke me for having sent him on this errand, but took
the blame of the business on himself. "Since I have been engaged," he said, "I
am growing dreadfully avaricious, and am almost as sordid about money as those
Twysdens. I cringed to that old man: I crawled before his gouty feet. Well, I
could crawl from here to Saint James's Palace to get some money for my little
Charlotte." Philip cringe and crawl! If there were no posture-masters more
supple than Philip Firmin, kotooing would be a lost art, like the Menuet de la
Cour. But fear not, ye great! Men's backs were made to bend, and the race of
parasites is still in good repute.
When our friend told us how his brief interview with Lord Ringwood had begun and
ended, I think those who counselled Philip to wait upon his grand-uncle felt
rather ashamed of their worldly wisdom and the advice which they had given. We
ought to have known our Huron sufficiently to be aware that it was a dangerous
experiment to set him bowing in lords' antechambers. Were not his elbows sure to
break some courtly china, his feet to trample and tear some lace train? So all
the good we had done was to occasion a quarrel between him and his patron. Lord
Ringwood avowed that he had intended to leave Philip money; and by thrusting the
poor fellow into the old nobleman's sick chamber, we had occasioned a quarrel
between the relatives, who parted with mutual threats and anger. "Oh, dear me!"
I groaned in connubial colloquies. "Let us get him away. He will be boxing
Mugford's ears next, and telling Mrs. Mugford that she is vulgar, and a bore."
He was eager to get back to his work, or rather to his lady-love at Paris. We
did not try to detain him. For fear of further accidents we were rather anxious
that he should be gone. Crestfallen and sad, I accompanied him to the Boulogne
boat. He paid for his place in the second cabin, and stoutly bade us adieu. A
rough night: a wet, slippery deck: a crowd of frowzy fellow-passengers: and poor
Philip in the midst of them in a thin cloak, his yellow hair and beard blowing
about: I see the steamer now, and left her with I know not what feelings of
contrition and shame. Why had I sent Philip to call upon that savage,
overbearing old patron of his? Why compelled him to that bootless act of
submission? Lord Ringwood's brutalities were matters of common notoriety. A
wicked, dissolute, cynical old man: and we must try to make friends with this
mammon of unrighteousness, and set poor Philip to bow before him and flatter
him! Ah, mea culpa, mea culpa! The wind blew hard that winter night, and many
tiles and chimney-pots blew down: and as I thought of poor Philip tossing in the
frowzy second-cabin, I rolled about my own bed very uneasily.
&
nbsp; I looked into Bays's club the day after, and there fell on both the Twysdens.
The parasite of a father was clinging to the button of a great man when I
entered: the little reptile of a son came to the club in Captain Woolcomb's
brougham, and in that distinguished mulatto officer's company. They looked at me
in a peculiar way. I was sure they did. Talbot Twysden, pouring his loud,
braggart talk in the ear of poor Lord Lepel, eyed me with a glance of triumph,
and talked and swaggered so that I should hear. Ringwood Twysden and Woolcomb,
drinking absinthe to whet their noble appetites, exchanged glances and grins.
Woolcomb's eyes were of the colour of the absinthe he swallowed. I did not see
that Twysden tore off one of Lord Lepel's buttons, but that nobleman, with a
scared countenance moved away rapidly from his little persecutor. "Hang him,
throw him over and come to me!" I heard the generous Twysden say. "I expect
Ringwood and one or two more." At this proposition, Lord Lepel, in a tremulous
way, muttered that he could not break his engagement, and fled out of the club.
Twysden's dinners, the polite reader has been previously informed, were
notorious; and he constantly bragged of having the company of Lord Ringwood. Now
it so happened that on this very evening, Lord Ringwood, with three of his
followers, henchmen, or led captains, dined at Bays's club, being determined to
see a pantomime in which a very pretty young Columbine figured: and some one in
the house joked with his lordship, and said, "Why, you are going to dine with
Talbot Twysden. He said, just now, that he expected you."
"Did he?" said his lordship. "Then Talbot Twysden told a hanged lie!" And little
Tom Eaves, my informant, remembered these remarkable words, because of a
circumstance which now almost immediately followed.
A very few days after Philip's departure, our friend, the Little Sister, came to
us at our breakfast-table, wearing an expression of much trouble and sadness on
her kind little face; the causes of which sorrow she explained to us, as soon as
our children had gone away to their school-room. We have mentioned, amongst Mrs.
Brandon's friends, and as one of her father's constant companions, the worthy
Mr. Ridley, father of the celebrated painter of that name, who was himself of
much too honourable and noble a nature to be ashamed of his humble paternal
origin. Companionship between father and son could not be very close or
intimate; especially as in the younger Ridley's boyhood his father, who knew
nothing of the fine arts, had looked upon the child as a sickly, half-witted
creature, who would be to his parents but a grief and a burden. But when J. J.
Ridley, Esq., began to attain eminence in his profession, his father's eyes were
opened; in place of neglect and contempt, he looked up to his boy with a
sincere, na?ve admiration, and often, with tears, has narrated the pride and
pleasure which he felt on the day when he waited on John James at his master's,
Lord Todmorden's table. Ridley senior now felt that he had been unkind and
unjust to his boy in the latter's early days, and with a very touching humility
the old man acknowledged his previous injustice, and tried to atone for it by
present respect and affection.
Though fondness for his son, and delight in the company of Captain Gann, often
drew Mr. Ridley to Thornhaugh Street, and to the Admiral Byng Club, of which
both were leading members, Ridley senior belonged to other clubs at the West
End, where Lord Todmorden's butler consorted with the confidential butlers of
others of the nobility; and I am informed that in those clubs Ridley continued
to be called "Todmorden" long after his connexion with that venerable nobleman
had ceased. He continued to be called Lord Todmorden, in fact, just as Lord
Popinjoy is still called by his old friends Popinjoy, though his father is dead,
and Popinjoy, as everybody knows, is at present Earl of Pintado.