Chapter 4

However, we had no cause for umbrage on this occasion; for the carriage rumbled over the hard, dry, ground, just as St. Stiff's was striking nine--the stars above, twinkling, as they only can, upon a clear, frosty night. Having knocked mildly, for fear of frightening Mrs. Brown thus early, and been kept waiting some time, we were admitted; after being taken for Mr. Strap, the help, by John, whom we surprised in his fustian jacket and the middle of a fugitive tea. The ladies soon disappeared into an upper region, not soon to return, leaving us to find amusement as we best could:--to examine the tiger-skin, ingeniously sewn upon a form to resemble a living animal (which, by the bye, it did not); to peep into the parlour, and discover the supper, looking mysteriously vast, by the light of one burner, very much turned down; to pace the hall; warm our kids at the Arnott; and, standing upon the mat, listen to the unsophisticated talk without--speculating as to what a foreign traveller could divine the conversation to mean, or the diurnal occupation of the lanthorn-men to be:--

1st voice. "_Droves_, did yer say, in _Mad-ox_ Street?"

2nd do. "Yes, _herds_; I got eight _bulls_ and a _hog_ out of _Bullstrode_ Street."

1st do. "See to that _bull's-eye_, _calf_; and, as there ain't no _kids_ a-coming, I'll _toss_ yer for a _tanner_."

Here "the noblest study of mankind" was broken off--Alphonso appearing. We left our men, to pace the hall--abandoning character for a slow march,--whilst the page constructed a scaffold of clothes-horses and table-covers, forming a repository for hats, over the back kitchen-stairs; the lobby beyond which, we discovered had been metamorphosed into a still-room, and was now presided over by two pretty, plump damsels, in the finest cobweb caps--mere blond buttons, of no earthly use, but, withal, very becoming:--one of these maids being in converse with a young "gent.," who, it appears, has been forgotten in the excitement, and discovered here--his face very sticky with candy and cream. Master Thomas Brown, fearing that such search might be instituted for him, has taken a great affection to the leg of the still-room table; from which he is coaxed by more attractive substances, seized, and borne up to bed--his yells becoming "small by degrees and beautifully less," until lost altogether.

Now comes Mr. Strap, to help and wait at table--in his huge white cravat, yellow vest, and new pair of second-hand plush smalls, disappearing below to develope his calves, which are enveloped in gaiters,--gingerly beckoning the man with the bad hat, who had been tuning the piano, and Mr. Palaver, the Mizzlington Artist in hair, to follow, that they may escape by the back door.

We had been promenading the hall for some time, having become pretty well acquainted with the pattern of the encaustic tiles with which it was paved; and were going towards the entrance for the last time, pluming ourself that we might appear to the greatest advantage--for we felt assured the ladies were descending, having heard a rustling and tittering;--when, just turning by the door, we were electrified by three distinct bangs, that subsided into a sharp rat, with an infinity of tail, causing the lid of the letter-box to look as if it had the palsy, and ourself to retreat like a shot--feeling alternately hot and cold; whilst Strap, who, upon hearing Mrs. Brown's footsteps, began to be very busy, performing a feat of strength with seven waiters, a copper scuttle and an ice-pail, is put in such trepidation that he loses his grip--all coming to the flags; causing the greatest amount of clamour at the smallest amount of sacrifice--Mrs. Brown saying she is happy it is not glass, and hoping Strap hasn't been drinking. The effect having annihilated the cause, the door is not opened; so the dose gets repeated, with similar gusto, by Fred. Lark--for it was he that gave the "stunner," and witnessed the commotion through the attenuated windows at either side the door,--a piece of pleasantry for which he got stigmatised by Mrs. B. as a naughty, noisome, noisy man; and for which he himself proposed the _still_-room, as an antidote. Now, Mr. Lark is one of those funny little men, rather liked, because not over given to sarcasm, and quite capable of laughing at his own jokes; or rather the jokes he has picked up and disseminates--such whimsies in their place being very well, but out of it intolerable nuisances. Mr. Lark commenced his vagaries in the still-room, when we were taking coffee, placing the toast on the table, and the buttered bread to the fire; proffering the sugar to Miss Angelina; inquiring of that lady if she _liked_ her tea--because, if not, she might _lump_ it; and upon our observing some cracknels, as hard, the Lark said--it was _harder_ where there were none; and that evening he completely confounded Mr. Brown, by informing the worthy gentleman--he had not seen him this year!--nothing very remarkable, considering it only three days' old; but enough, withal, to make Mr. Brown think of three hundred and sixty-five--doubting the statement.

Now arrive the musicians, with a gentle knock:--up goes the harp (like a huge blade-bone in baize), followed by the cornet, violin, and pianist. We ascend:--Mrs. Brown popping and firing her parting injunctions in every direction--at Alphonso, in the (library) coffee-room; at Mr. Strap, by the door; at John, by the foot of the stairs;--and, I was going to say, at the listless supernumerary footman, lolling over the banisters; who appeared in, or rather out of, character, by especial desire, for this night only, being lent with the rout-seats at a sure salary. As Mrs. Brown passed this latter gentleman in silence, we could not help smiling--hoping she might have to think as well of his powers as he did himself, and that all titles entrusted to his care might be safely delivered; for we knew Mrs. Bramston would not be called _Brimstone_, without turning fiery; or Mr. Reynard Sly put up with anything but _Slée_, though he may write it Sly, himself.

Having gained the drawing-room, and got fairly through the muslin-barrier in the doorway, which made the staircase look as if in a fog, we found the appearance within very gratifying--everything well out of the way, and no stinting of wax-lights:--altogether exhibiting a clearer stage than is often to be met with--some antique people inviting you to polk in an old curiosity shop;--as, the other evening, at the Dowager Lady Oldbuck's, young Whisk, of the Heavies, brought down a _buhl_ table, covered with porcelain gimcracks; a thing that Lark observed--ought to cure itself, if people wished to save their _Sèvres_. Evening parties are not the slow things they used to be:--here the back balcony is all evergreens and tissue-paper blossoms, lit up with a Chinese lanthorn--looking like a fairy bower, tenanted by four gaping gold-fish and a dissipated canary; the little boudoir, beyond, so snug in sage and silver, seeming but small accommodation for card-players. We thought of Lady Oldbuck's--the valuable space occupied by _chaperones_ and corpulent cronies,--blessing the new mode;--dances now being given to dancers, not to dowagers and matrimonial slave-dealers, as heretofore. Mrs. Brown calculates her company; and thinking there is enough for a quadrille in either room, she commences to form them--pouncing, from time to time, upon timid young men by the door, who are led forward, like lambs from a flock, to sacrifice,--until the sets are completed--all but one couple--Mrs. Brown stating herself "distressed for ladies;"--a combination of suffering by no means acute, for she stood up herself, having engaged the amiable young Slowcoach to fill the gap.

No sooner did the orchestra commence--barely having finished the first eight bars of "the Martyrs",--than the guests came rushing up from the coffee-room, like sheep through a hedge, one bolder than the rest leading the way, causing Mrs. Brown to desert her partner in _l'éte_--a figure the gentleman feels bound to execute twice, though he would much rather have been excused either performance; and upon Mrs. Brown's presenting a substitute he became so beside himself as to forget the figure--a mishap rendered none the clearer by a wag's performing _la pastorale_, when he ought to have done _trenise_, and moreover, not have done it in such a facetious manner, as to render it a matter of doubt if he himself could have recognized it; the audacity being accompanied by a certain amount of shyness, that had to be hidden, altogether sadly deranging our amiable youth's comprehension, he being led by his partner, instead of leading _her_--to be left, alone, in a mental pillory, a specimen of blushing mortification more diverting to behold than to experience;--but, upon being kindly treated by his gentle partner, he recovers, in the _galop finale_, feeling truly grateful to the guardian spirit that has conducted him through the purgatory. Ladies, be gentle with youthful bashfulness--it often arises from pure feelings, modest diffidence, or unselfishness;--such, unlike many proficient dancers, carry their brains in their hats, and not in their boots:--weigh your "_fantastic-toes_" against them, and see which are the most empty.

Somehow, the first quadrille is always unfortunate!--In the back room they succeeded no better than in the front:--here, Miss Charmer was top of the dance, as she always is, if it can be obtained; especially in the _Lancers_ or _Caledonians_ (which, we dare say, are pleasant quadrilles to those who know them, and the Charmer does). Well, she is top, with young Hoy (heir to Sir Hobbedy), for a partner, a brave youth at quoits, cricket, boxing, or boating--his hands, horny as a tortoise and large as Polyphemus', over which he split three right-hand gloves:--a glance will suffice to show how much he is _out_ of his, and she _in_ her, element--Miss Charmer looking, Lark said, as if she would prefer performing the "first _set_" (or sit) upon a vacant seat, beside Arthur Beau, who has just arrived, and by whom, we know, she disliked to be quizzed;--so, upon the completion of the first eight bars, the Charmer flounced, bringing the flounces of her dress into contact with the bars of the grate, causing the smoke to come out, and Arthur to come round, that he might lean upon the shelf, engage himself for the next dance, and stand behind the fair partner, a fire-guard of honour, unable to keep from smiling at Mr. Hoy, who dances upon his heels, as though enamoured of his large feet, and afraid of knocking his head against the chandelier. Their _vis-à-vis_ is a lively lady, apparently taking stock of a _bouquet_, but, in reality, joking an absent gentleman, opposite:--it is Miss Gay, whom Lark (her partner) is making laugh, by observing--the gentleman is not so _absent_ as he ought to be; causing that lady to forget herself--making many mistakes and false starts; which, being those of a person who knew better, were very diverting. Miss Gay is voluble as volatile, no subject coming amiss--she is now speculating as to how far the gentlemen will permit the buttons to travel down their backs, or their skirts to be curtailed; and Mr. Lark, unable to find a reason, must get up a contrary supposition--imagining some middle-aged ladies to resemble a cork-screw, as they have at different periods shifted the waist from the armpits downward;--_waists_ making us think of the short lady (in this set) with a very long one--Miss Price, only child of Alderman Price, chandler and dry-salter, of Candlewick ward--daughter and _hair_, as Mr. Lark jocosely observed, in allusion to the luxuriant red tresses of that lady;--saying her papa was the great crony of Sir Rich. Big, the free vintner, late of Portsoken ward, who was found, or rather not found--having evaporated of spontaneous combustion, before he could get to the civic chair,--leaving all his money to Price; who has retired, with his fat and the gout, to Bayswater. Miss Price is a lovely dancer, appearing hollow (a thing Miss Gay did not doubt), like an India rubber ball in flounces; she is said to have a beautiful hand, so small as to require only No. 6. gloves--as if a pigmy hand could not be a deformity. She is invited, in a hope that young Brown may make her a partner, for the dance of life; and is said to be worth £150,000--not by the pound weight, as the envious Miss Gay hinted.--No! No! naughty Miss Gay, be satisfied with Nature's gifts, and do not covet lucre.

Here comes young Brown, who has not danced before, to make arrangements with Miss Gay, who has--and proved herself the _belle_ of the room;--but, as gentlemen are now in the minority, she does not hint at being "engaged for the next," or propose "the one after."

There is a temporary lull, after the dance:--and in comes Captain de Camp, looking like a macaw in a dress-coat, leading Lady Lucretia de Camp, who resembles an apoplectic canary--so glittering is the amber satin,--followed by the sons, who meander amongst the beaux and bare shoulders, in search of the Miss Browns--dancing with no one else all the evening,--causing the gentlemen to think very little of the De Camps, and the ladies less of the Miss Browns. Now, then, for a polka!--the rattling "Post knock Polka!"--Off! away they go, after a great deal of reluctance and playful diffidence as to who should lead off--Miss Charmer with Arthur Beau, twirling round and round, in and out (like an eel among skittles); followed by Mr. Latimer and Miss Jemima, who evidently intended to do great things, but only cause confusions and contusions, until they get knocked into the open space, in the centre of the human vortex--the Charmer spinning, as a top that could not stop, while the music continued, like the automata in front of a street organ. There, there they go!--that is Lord Towney--he who came with Mr. Serjeant Wideawake, the Honourable Member for Bloomsbury--the fellow who got acquainted with Brown, as brother-director of the "Dodo Assurance," that didn't do, and was done up. His Lordship is son of the Marquis of Mary-le-bone--he that is flying with the pink flounces,--the buoyant, hollow, Miss Price, whose pretty button of a nose we do believe was impressed with the basket-work on her partner's fourth shirt-stud. Round and round they twist--backwards, forwards, and sideways,--between parties parted, and openings that close again,--faster and faster,--smiling, frowning, and apologizing,--growing swifter and swifter,--until the floor snapped, and rebounded with an awful crash.

* * * *

The visitors are in the room below--a scene of ruin and rueful faces;--the supper that was displayed there, in all its state, is done for. Alas!--the chandelier has been polked off the hook--a mishap in which few sympathise, for the floor is said to be safe; Mr. Lark being the first to propose their going above, as he jokingly observed--to crack the _party_-wall. Now, for that vastly-relished valse, the "Teetotum"--liked none the less for the late excitement!--_deux temps_ against _trois temps_--the latter getting worsted; and the Brown girls, who danced every dance, with certain gentlemen, only, more and more unpopular.

As the evening progresses, the Wall-flowers become bolder;--some finding partners for quadrilles; others edging up to the vacant recesses, rendering it now possible to get out at the door, and obtain air on the landing--where several young fellows are congregated:--there young Lark was laughing, we knew, at the Rev. Jewel St. Jones, the clerk in orders at St. Stiffs, doing the _cavalier seul_--for we heard him say something about early missal, or primitive Christian style,--joking the reverend gentleman's partner, Miss what's-her-name, the "lamp-post," from No. 4, Bury Court, St. Mary Axe--that washed-out, faint, fair creature,--she, that looks as if you could see the back buttons of her dress through from the front--that lady--well, do you see her?--It is said her mother keeps her in a dark closet, that she may look like a consumptive geranium:--however, Mr. Lark said _he_ did not believe it; and, as no one said they did, the matter ended. The stairs soon become a popular observatory--several Wall-flowers joining the knot; one of whom mildly remarks something about three silver-grey silks, in the fore-ground, and their being "much worn;" which Mr. Lark fully agreed in, as, he said, they appeared to have been _turned_ several times--a joke, at which the Wall-flower faintly smiles, for the three silver-greys are his sisters:--however, nothing daunted, he is at it again, remarking upon marriage, and people that look married; illustrating his theory by pointing out the juvenility of an aunt, who he says is a virgin:--Lark retorting--"_virging_ on fifty!"--a notification that begets much laughter, making the Wall-flower feel at a discount, and more than ever desire to say something smart; so, he pitches upon a gentleman with parenthetical (bowed) legs, observing that Brown has invited his tailor; moreover, wagering two to one, that if the gentleman, so libelled, were asked to look at the splashes on the calf of his leg, he would take it up in front, and examine it in his hand, like a nabob or tailor, used to sit upon the floor; were he a Christian, he would look at it over his shoulder:--here the Wall-flower turned for applause, looking over his own shoulder to illustrate the anecdote--there to discover, Captain de Camp, the gentleman who introduced "Parenthesis," a staff doctor, from Woolwich (at least so the Captain said). But here we will leave them to proceed below, and see how matters progress in the supper-room:--

The chandelier, the treacherous culprit, that would not swing or hang in chains, is being borne away, clanking along the lower hall; the broken glass has been picked out of the pastry, and the oily odour overcome with _esprit de bouquet_--presenting, withal, a very effective _coup-d'oeil_:--though, we could fancy the tipsy-cake, in the form of a leaning-tower, if anything, a little more groggy; and that the composite Corinthian temple looked as if it had suffered from an earthquake--but there it was, for all the intense remorse of the cook, who thought the exhibition of so mutilated a work of art would injure his reputation for ever--but it did not!--Neither did any one notice the loss of the frail effeminate brigand, that formerly tenanted the rotunda of barley-sugar; nor was it known that a treadmill had given place to a locomotive and tender--in sweets.

The first portion of this banquet disappears merrily; there being no lack of the usual conserves, pasties, and geometrical bread-envelopes--supposed to contain something, but consumed without the slightest knowledge of their contents.

After the ladies have supped and withdrawn, the gentlemen lay to, with immense energy, as if to make up for the time they have been kept in suspense, creating great havoc amongst ruined fowls, or anything they can lay hands upon--in the excitement, particularity having given place to mirth. One gentleman has planted a spoon in his button-hole, after the fashion of a flower; and, of course, for his pains, got called a "Spooney," by an unknown voice behind Mr. Potts, the tame apothecary, who is pouring, or rather measuring out, some champagne, _himself_, catching the final drop on the edge of the glass, as if it were castor-oil:--the "Spooney," thinking it Potts' voice, must make a joke in return; so begins with the rather hackney'd, but, as he thought, appropriate one, of _cham_pagne being better than _real_ pain or quinine wine; and, upon Mr. P.'s essaying to answer, our "Spoon" diverted to some tongue he was consuming, saying he liked it better than _Pott_ed _tongue_--an observation that made the apothecary's face flush, and the "Spoon" liken it to an article before them, a _claret-mug_. At this last allusion the "Pott" got red-hot, and there is no knowing what would have been the consequences, had not the "Spoon" terrified the "Pott" by proclaiming "silence!"--in a stentorian voice;--and a gentleman risen, Dr. Portbin, the author of that elaborate essay on "Dribbling Babies," in one thick volume, royal octavo--a work that nobody read, but everybody thought a great deal of, for it gained its author a vast infantine practice:--so, when the M.D. rose, the "Pott" trembled--feeling greatly relieved to find the doctor only did so to propose the "ladies"--"health and long life to Mrs. Brown and the ladies!"--a toast that was drunk with great enthusiasm, Mr. Lark vociferously applauding; at the same time stating, in an under tone--"the doctor meant a long life of ills and bills." Dr. Portbin's sentiment is echoed by Mr. Brown, who returns thanks in a stereotype-speech, almost as original as a royal one; to which, in some points, it bore slight resemblance, the ideas being very much generalized--there was an "alliance with foreign powers," "acquisition of territory," and "friendly relations:"--altogether a prosperous allegory, which causes Captain de Camp to be "called upon;" and, in that style of speech usually denominated "neat," give very visible vent to his inexpressible feelings--sketching several scenes, commencing at Victoria Villa and ending at St. Stephen's,--with a verse, intended to look as if composed for the nonce; but, in reality, a work of much study:--it was delivered with great emphasis--a composition for which we had to blush, though, as faithful chroniclers, feel bound to insert--it ran as follows:--

"Victoria and Albert's big With city's wealth and soldier's glory: To Army, Queen, and Country swig: Improve, my friends, and prove the Tory!"

We do not think the Captain quite liked the word "swig," but he could find no better in "Walker's Rhyming Dictionary;" or the last expression--but _Conservative_ could not be lugged in any how:--however, we must say, this ostensible improvisatorial effort produced a grand effect, and a greater noise; which had scarcely subsided, when Mr. Serjeant Wideawake, the Honourable Member for Bloomsbury, and author of "Lays of a Liberal," rose to retort, saying,--

"We beg to doubt your precious rig, And I'll tell you another story: To _improve_ is to be a _whig_; But not to _improve-is-a-tory_!"