The Adventures of Philip

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.