Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 1.
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Title: Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 1.
Author: Samuel Warren
Release date: January 17, 2010 [eBook #31004]
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR. VOLUME 1. ***
Produced by David Cortesi, Suzanne Shell and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
* * * * *
TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR.
[Illustration: Portrait of the author.]
TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR.
BY
SAMUEL WARREN, F.R.S.
VOL. I.
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
1900.
University Press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.
* * * * *
To Emily,
A LITTLE BLUE-EYED LAUGHING IMAGE OF PURITY
AND HAPPINESS,
_THESE VOLUMES ARE INSCRIBED_
AS A SLIGHT MEMORIAL OF A FATHER'S AFFECTION
FOR AN ONLY DAUGHTER.
_October_, 1841.
* * * * *
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE
The author provided thirty-three notes to the text. They are indicated
by numbers in square brackets, as[12]. The notes themselves are at the
end of the document. To find note number 12, search for "Note 12".
This edition contains only ASCII text (ISO-8859-1). The oe ligature is
rendered simply as oe. Two Greek phrases in the Notes are shown in
Beta-code.
Four typographical errors were corrected in transcription: Gamman for
Gammon, p. 169; possisible for possible, p. 195; familarly for
familiarly, p. 250; and possesssion for possession, p. 402.
PUBLISHERS' PREFACE.
The fact that a well-printed edition of this notable story has not been
in print either in England or America since its original publication in
1841 is a sufficient reason for the present edition.
It includes the valuable notes in which the author elucidated the "many
legal topics contained in the work, enabling the non-professional reader
to understand more easily the somewhat complex and elaborate _plot_ of
the story."
Of the story itself it is hardly necessary to speak. Always deservedly
popular, it has been widely read for nearly fifty years in England and
America, has been translated into French and German, and has only
required to be presented in a pleasing form, with readable type and good
paper, to insure it the circulation which it deserves.
Boston, 1889.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
The Author of this Work begs gratefully to express his conviction that
no small share of any success which it may have met with, is
attributable to the circumstance of its having had the advantage of an
introduction to the public through the medium of _Blackwood's
Magazine_--a distinguished periodical, to which he feels it an honor to
have been, for a time, a contributor.
One word, only, he ventures to offer, with reference to the general
character and tendency of "TEN THOUSAND A-YEAR." He has occasionally
observed it spoken of as "an amusing and laughable" story; but he cannot
help thinking that no one will so characterize it, who may take the
trouble of reading it throughout, and be capable of comprehending its
scope and object. Whatever may be its defects of execution, it has been
written in a grave and earnest spirit; with no attempt whatever to
render it acceptable to _mere_ novel-readers; but with a steadfast view
to that development and illustration, whether humorously or otherwise,
of principles, of character, and of conduct, which the author had
proposed to himself from the first, in the hope that he might secure
the approbation of persons of sober, independent, and experienced
judgment.
Literature is not the author's profession. Having been led, by special
circumstances only, to commence writing this work, he found it
impossible to go on, without sacrificing to it a large portion of the
time usually allotted to repose, at some little cost both of health and
spirits. This was, however, indispensable, in order to prevent its
interference with his professional avocations. It has been written,
also, under certain other considerable disadvantages--which may account
for several imperfections in it during its original appearance. The
periodical interval of leisure which his profession allows him, has
enabled the author, however, to give that revision to the whole, which
may render it worthier of the public favor. He is greatly gratified by
the reception which it has already met with, both at home and abroad;
and in taking a final and a reluctant leave of the public, ventures to
express a hope, that this work may prove to be an addition, however
small and humble, to the stock of healthy English literature.
LONDON, _October_ 1841.
For the beautiful verses entitled "PEACE," (at page 266, Vol. I.)
the author is indebted to a friend--(W. S.)
CONTENTS TO VOL. I.
CHAP. PAGE
I. While Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse adorns his outer man, the
reader gets a glimpse of his inner man, such as it is.--A
sincere friend; a wonderful advertisement; an important
epistle.--A snake approaches an ape; which signifies Mr.
Gammon's introduction to Titmouse 1
II. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, and Mr. Titmouse; who astonishes
them with a taste of his quality.--Huckaback chooses to call
upon Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, to stir them up; and what it
led to 47
III. Great lawyers come on the scene; a glimpse of daylight; a
very moving letter.--Titmouse and Huckaback think it right
to go to church; and the former receives a lesson on
landlord-and-tenant law, from Mrs. Squallop 94
IV. A vision of beauty unseen by Mr. Titmouse; who is in the
midnight of despair and writes a letter which startles Mr.
Quirk.--How Gammon used to wind round Quirk; and the subtle
means he took to find out what Titmouse was about 137
V. Gammon tackling Tag-rag.--Satin Lodge, and its refined
inmates, who all pay their duty to Titmouse; and he very
nearly falls in love with Miss Tag-rag.
Cyanochaitanthropopoion 181
VI. Damascus Cream; Tetaragmenon Abracadabra; Titmouse's levee
at Closet Court; Mr. Tag-rag's entertainment to him at Satin
Lodge; and its disgusting issue 222
VII. The reader is now introduced to quite a different set of
people, in Grosvenor Street, and falls in love with Kate
Aubrey.--Christmas in the country; Yatton; Madam Aubrey; the
Reverend Dr. Tatham; and old Blind Bess 252
VIII. Two strange creatures are seen at Yatton by Mr. Aubrey and
his sister; and a hand-grenade is thrown, unseen, at the
feet of the latter.--Country life; Yatton; Fotheringham; the
two beauties; and an angel beset by an imp 297
IX. The explosion of the hand-grenade; shattered hopes and
happiness.--A winter evening's gossip at the Aubrey Arms,
among Yatton villagers, and its grievous interruption 332
X. Gammon _versus_ Tag-rag; and Snap _cum_ Titmouse,
introducing him to life in London--of one sort.--The feast
of reason and the flow of soul at Alibi House; Mr. Quirk's
banquet to Titmouse, who is overcome by it.--Titmouse seems
to hesitate between Miss Quirk and Kate Aubrey 372
XI. Suffering; dignity; tenderness; resignation 415
XII. How the great flaw was discovered in Mr. Aubrey's title; but
a terrible hitch occurs in the proceedings of his opponents 431
XIII. Madam Aubrey's death and burial; Gammon smitten with the
sight of Kate Aubrey's beauty; and a great battle takes
place at the York assizes for Yatton 454
Notes 507
CHAPTER I.
About ten o'clock one Sunday morning, in the month of July 18--, the
dazzling sunbeams, which had for several hours irradiated a little
dismal back attic in one of the closest courts adjoining Oxford Street,
in London, and stimulated with their intensity the closed eyelids of a
young man--one TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE--lying in bed, at length awoke him. He
rubbed his eyes for some time, to relieve himself from the irritation
occasioned by the sudden glare they encountered; and yawned and
stretched his limbs with a heavy sense of weariness, as though his sleep
had not refreshed him. He presently cast his eyes towards the heap of
clothes lying huddled together on the backless chair by the bedside,
where he had hastily flung them about an hour after midnight; at which
time he had returned from a great draper's shop in Oxford Street, where
he served as a shopman, and where he had nearly dropped asleep, after a
long day's work, in the act of putting up the shutters. He could hardly
keep his eyes open while he undressed, short as was the time required to
do so; and on dropping exhausted into bed, there he had continued, in
deep unbroken slumber, till the moment of his being presented to the
reader.--He lay for several minutes, stretching, yawning, and sighing,
occasionally casting an irresolute glance towards the tiny fireplace,
where lay a modicum of wood and coal, with a tinder-box and a match or
two placed upon the hob, so that he could easily light his fire for the
purposes of shaving, and breakfasting. He stepped at length lazily out
of bed, and when he felt his feet, again yawned and stretched himself.
Then he lit his fire, placed his bit of a kettle on the top of it, and
returned to bed, where he lay with his eye fixed on the fire, watching
the crackling blaze insinuate itself through the wood and coal. Once,
however, it began to fail, so he had to get up and assist it, by
blowing, and bits of paper; and it seemed in so precarious a state that
he determined not again to lie down, but sit on the bedside: as he did,
with his arms folded, ready to resume operations if necessary. In this
posture he remained for some time, watching his little fire, and
listlessly listening to the discordant jangling of innumerable
church-bells, clamorously calling the citizens to their devotions. The
current of thoughts passing through his mind, was something like the
following:--
"Heigho!--Lud, Lud!--Dull as ditch water!--This is my only holiday, yet
I don't seem to enjoy it!--for I feel knocked up with my week's work! (A
yawn.) What a life mine is, to be sure! Here am I, in my
eight-and-twentieth year, and for four long years have been one of the
shopmen at Tag-rag & Co.'s, slaving from half-past seven o'clock in the
morning till nine at night, and all for a salary of thirty-five pounds
a-year, and my board! And Mr. Tag-rag--eugh! what a beast!--is always
telling me how high he's raised my salary!! Thirty-five pounds a-year is
all I have for lodging, and turning out like a gentleman! 'Pon my soul!
it _can't_ last; for sometimes I feel getting desperate--such strange
thoughts come into my mind!--Seven shillings a-week do I pay for _this_
cursed hole--(he uttered these words with a bitter emphasis, accompanied
by a disgustful look round the little room)--that one couldn't swing a
cat in without touching the four sides!--Last winter three of our gents
(_i. e._ his fellow-shopmen) came to tea with me one Sunday night; and
bitter cold as it was, we four made this cussed dog-hole so hot, we were
obliged to open the window!--And as for accommodation--I recollect I had
to borrow two nasty chairs from the people below, who on the next Sunday
borrowed my only decanter, in return, and, hang them, cracked it!--Curse
me, say I, if this life is worth having! It's all the very vanity of
vanities--as it's said somewhere in the Bible--and no mistake! Fag, fag,
fag, all one's days, and--what for? Thirty-five pounds a-year, and '_no
advance!_' (Here occurred a pause and revery, from which he was roused
by the clangor of the church-bells.) Bah, bells! ring away till you're
all cracked!--Now do you think _I'm_ going to be mewed up in church on
this the only day out of the seven I've got to sweeten myself in, and
sniff fresh air? A precious joke that would be! (A yawn.) Whew!--after
all, I'd almost as lieve sit here; for what's the use of my going out?
Everybody I see out is happy, excepting me, and the poor chaps that are
like me!--Everybody laughs when they see me, and know that I'm only a
tallow-faced counter-jumper--I know that's the odious name we gents go
by!--for whom it's no use to go out--for one day in seven can't give one
a bloom! Oh, Lord! what's the use of being good-looking, as _some_ chaps
say I am?"--Here he instinctively passed his left hand through a
profusion of sandy-colored hair, and cast an eye towards the bit of
fractured looking-glass which hung against the wall, and had, by
faithfully representing to him a by no means ugly set of features
(despite the dismal hue of his hair) whenever he chose to appeal to it,
afforded him more enjoyment than any other object in the world, for
years. "Ah, by Jove! many and many's the fine gal I've done my best to
attract the notice of, while I was serving her in the shop--that is,
when I've seen her get out of a carriage! There has been luck to many a
chap like me, in the same line of speculation: look at Tom Tarnish--how
did he get Miss Twang, the rich pianoforte-maker's daughter?--and _now_
he's cut the shop, and lives at Hackney, like a regular gentleman! Ah!
that _was_ a stroke! But somehow it hasn't answered with _me_ yet; the
gals don't take! How I have set my eyes to be sure, and ogled
them!--_All_ of them don't seem to dislike the thing--and sometimes
they'll smile, in a sort of way that says I'm safe--but it's been no use
yet, not a bit of it!--My eyes! catch me, by the way, ever nodding again
to a lady on the Sunday, that had smiled when I stared at her while
serving her in the shop--after what happened to me a month or two ago in
the Park! Didn't I feel like damaged goods, just then? But it's no
matter, women are so different at different times!--Very likely I
mismanaged the thing. By the way, what a precious puppy of a chap the
fellow was that came up to her at the time she stepped out of her
carriage to walk a bit! As for good looks--cut me to ribbons (another
glance at the glass) no; I a'n't afraid _there_,
neither--but--heigho!--I suppose he was, as they say, born with a golden
spoon in his mouth, and had never so many a thousand a-year, to make up
to him for never so few brains! He was uncommon well-dressed, though, I
must own. What trousers!--they stuck so natural to him, he might have
been born in them. And his waistcoat, and satin stock--what an air! And
yet, his figure was nothing _very_ out of the way! His gloves, as white
as snow; I've no doubt he wears a pair of them a-day--my stars! that's
three-and-sixpence a-day; for don't I know what _they_ cost?--Whew! if I
had but the cash to carry on that sort of thing!--And when he'd seen
her into her carriage--the horse he got on!--and what a tip-top
groom--that chap's wages, I'll answer for it, were equal to my salary!
(Here was another pause.) Now, just for the fun of the thing, only
suppose luck was to befall _me_! Say that somebody was to leave me lots
of cash--many thousands a-year, or something in that line! My stars!
wouldn't I go it with the best of them! (Another long pause.) Gad, I
really should hardly know how to begin to spend it!--I think, by the
way, I'd buy a _title_ to set off with--for what won't money buy? The
thing's often done; there was a great pawn-broker in the city, the other
day, made a baronet of, all for his money--and why shouldn't I?" He grew
a little heated with the progress of his reflections, clasping his hands
with involuntary energy, as he stretched them out to their fullest
extent, to give effect to a very hearty yawn. "Lord, only think how it
would sound!--
"SIR TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE, BARONET;" or, "LORD TITMOUSE!!"
"The very first place I'd go to, after I'd got my title, and was rigged
out in Tight-fit's tip-top, should be--our cursed shop! to buy a dozen
or two pair of white kid. Ah, ha! What a flutter there would be among
the poor pale devils as were standing, just as ever, behind the
counters, at Tag-rag and Co.'s when my carriage drew up, and I stepped,
a tip-top swell, into the shop. Tag-rag would come and attend to me
himself! No, he wouldn't--pride wouldn't let him. I don't know, though:
what wouldn't he do to turn a penny, and make two and nine-pence into
three and a penny? I shouldn't _quite_ come Captain Stiff over him, I
think, just at first; but I should treat him with a kind of an air, too,
as if--hem! 'Pon my life! how delightful! (A sigh and a pause.) Yes, I
should often come to the shop. Gad, it would be half the fun of my
fortune! How they would envy me, to be sure! How one should enjoy it! I
wouldn't think of _marrying_ till--and yet I won't say either; if I got
among some of them out-and-outers--those first-rate articles--that lady,
for instance, the other day in the Park--I should like to see her cut me
as she did, with ten thousand a-year in my pocket! Why, she'd be running
after _me_!--or there's no truth in novels, which I'm sure there's often
a great deal in. Oh, of course, I might marry whom I pleased! Who
couldn't be got with ten thousand a-year? (Another pause.) I think I
should go abroad to Russia directly; for they tell me there's a man
lives there who could dye this cussed hair of mine any color I
liked--and--egad! I'd come home as black as a crow, and hold up my head
as high as any of them! While I was about it, I'd have a touch at my
eyebrows"---- Crash here went all his castle-building, at the sound of
his tea-kettle, hissing, whizzing, sputtering, in the agonies of boiling
over; as if the intolerable heat of the fire had driven desperate the
poor creature placed upon it, which instinctively tried thus to
extinguish the cause of its anguish. Having taken it off, and placed it
upon the hob, and put on the fire a tiny fragment of fresh coal, he
began to make preparations for shaving, by pouring some of the hot water
into an old tea-cup, which was presently to serve for the purposes of
breakfast. Then he spread out a bit of crumpled whity-brown paper, in
which had been folded up a couple of cigars, bought over-night for the
Sunday's special enjoyment--and as to which, if he supposed they had
come from any place beyond the four seas, I imagine him to have been
slightly mistaken. He placed this bit of paper on the little
mantel-piece; drew his solitary well-worn razor several times across the
palm of his left hand; dipped his brush, worn, within half an inch, to
the stump, into the hot water; presently passed it over so much of his
face as he intended to shave; then rubbed on the damp surface a bit of
yellow soap--and in less than five minutes Mr. Titmouse was a shaved
man. But mark--don't suppose that he had performed an extensive
operation. One would have thought him anxious to get rid of as much as
possible of his abominable sandy-colored hair. Quite the contrary! Every
hair of his spreading whiskers was sacred from the touch of steel; and a
bushy crop of hair stretched underneath his chin, coming curled out on
each side of it, above his stock, like two little horns or tusks. An
imperial--_i. e._ a dirt-colored tuft of hair, permitted to grow
perpendicularly down the under-lip of puppies--and a pair of promising
mustaches, poor Mr. Titmouse had been compelled to sacrifice some time
before, to the tyrannical whimsies of his vulgar employer, Mr. Tag-rag,
who imagined them not to be exactly suitable appendages for
counter-jumpers. Thus will it be seen that the space shaved over on this
occasion was somewhat circumscribed. This operation over, he took out of
his trunk an old dirty-looking pomatum pot. A modicum of its contents,
extracted on the tips of his two forefingers, he stroked carefully into
his eyebrows; then spreading some on the palms of his hands, he rubbed
it vigorously into his stubborn hair and whiskers for some quarter of an
hour; afterwards combing and brushing his hair into half a dozen
different dispositions--so fastidious in that matter was Mr. Titmouse.
Then he dipped the end of a towel into a little water, and twisting it
round his right forefinger, passed it gently over his face, carefully
avoiding his eyebrows, and the hair at the top, sides, and bottom of his
face, which he then wiped with a dry corner of the towel; and no farther
did Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse think it necessary to carry his ablutions.
Had he, however, been able to "see himself as others saw him," in
respect of those neglected regions which lay somewhere behind and
beneath his ears, he might not, possibly, have thought it superfluous to
irrigate them with a little soap and water; but, after all, he knew
best; it might have given him cold: and besides, his hair was very thick
and long behind, and might perhaps conceal anything that was unsightly.
Then Mr. Titmouse drew from underneath the bed a bottle of "incomparable
blacking," and a couple of brushes; with great labor and skill polishing
his boots up to a wonderful degree of brilliancy. Having replaced his
blacking implements under the bed and washed his hands, he devoted a few
moments to boiling about three tea-spoonfuls of coffee, (as it was
styled on the paper from which he took, and in which he had bought,
it--whereas it was, in fact, _chiccory_.) Then he drew forth from his
trunk a calico shirt, with linen wristbands and collar, which had been
worn only twice--_i. e._ on the preceding two Sundays--since its last
washing--and put it on, taking great care not to rumple a very showy
front, containing three rows of frills; in the middle one of which he
stuck three "studs," connected together with two little gilt chains,
looking exceedingly stylish--especially when coupled with a span-new
satin stock, which he next buckled round his neck. Having put on his
bright boots, (without, I am really sorry to say, any stockings,) he
carefully insinuated his legs into a pair of white trousers, for the
first time since their last washing; and what with his short straps and
high braces, they were so tight that you would have feared their
bursting if he should have sat down hastily. I am almost afraid that I
shall hardly be believed; but it is a fact, that the next thing he did
was to attach a pair of spurs to his boots:--but, to be sure, it was not
_impossible_ that he might intend to ride during the day. Then he put on
a queer kind of under-waistcoat, which in fact was only a roll-collar of
rather faded pea-green silk, and designed to set off a very fine
flowered damson-colored silk waistcoat; over which he drew a massive
mosaic-gold chain, (to purchase which he had sold a serviceable silver
watch,) which had been carefully wrapped up in cotton wool; from which
soft depository, also, he drew HIS RING, (those must have been sharp
eyes which could tell, at a distance, and in a hurry, that it was not
diamond,) which he placed on the stumpy little finger of his red and
thick right hand--and contemplated its sparkle with exquisite
satisfaction. Having proceeded thus far with his toilet, he sat down to
his breakfast, spreading upon his lap the shirt which he had taken off,
to preserve his white trousers from spot or stain--his thoughts
alternating between his late waking vision and his purposes for the day.
He had no butter, having used the last on the preceding morning; so he
was fain to put up with dry bread--and very dry and teeth-trying it was,
poor fellow--but his eye lit on his ring! Having swallowed two cups of
his _quasi_-coffee, (eugh! such stuff!) he resumed his toilet, by
drawing out of his other trunk his blue surtout, with embossed silk
buttons and velvet collar, and an outside pocket in the left breast.
Having smoothed down a few creases, he put it on:--then, before his
little vulgar fraction of a looking-glass, he stood twitching about the
collar, and sleeves, and front, so as to make them sit well; concluding
with a careful elongation of the wristbands of his shirt, so as to show
their whiteness gracefully beyond the cuff of his coat-sleeve--and he
succeeded in producing a sort of white boundary line between the blue of
his coat-sleeve and the red of his hand. At that useful member he could
not help looking with a sigh, as he had often done before--for it was
not a handsome hand. It was broad and red, and the fingers were thick
and stumpy, with very coarse deep wrinkles at every joint. His nails
also were flat and shapeless; and he used to be continually gnawing
them till he had succeeded in getting them down to the quick--and they
were a sight to set one's teeth on edge. Then he extracted from the
first-mentioned trunk a white pocket handkerchief--an exemplary one,
that had gone through four Sundays' show, (not _use_, be it understood,)
and yet was capable of exhibition again. A pair of sky-colored kid
gloves next made their appearance: which, however, showed such barefaced
marks of former service as rendered indispensable a ten minutes' rubbing
with bread-crumbs. His Sunday hat, carefully covered with silver-paper,
was next gently removed from its well-worn box--ah, how lightly and
delicately did he pass his smoothing hand round its glossy surface!
Lastly, he took down a thin black cane, with a gilt head, and full brown
tassel, from a peg behind the door--and his toilet was complete. Laying
down his cane for a moment, he passed his hands again through his hair,
arranging it so as to fall nicely on each side beneath his hat, which he
then placed upon his head, with an elegant inclination towards the left
side. He was really not bad-looking, in spite of his sandy-colored hair.
His forehead, to be sure, was contracted, and his eyes were of a very
light color, and a trifle too protuberant; but his mouth was rather
well-formed, and being seldom closed, exhibited very beautiful teeth;
and his nose was of that description which generally passes for a Roman
nose. His countenance wore generally a smile, and was expressive
of--self-satisfaction: and surely any expression is better than none at
all. As for there being the slightest trace of _intellect_ in it, I
should be misleading the reader if I were to say anything of the sort.
In height, he was about five feet and a quarter of an inch, _in his
boots_, and he was rather strongly set, with a little tendency to round
shoulders:--but his limbs were pliant, and his motions nimble.
Here you have, then, Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse to the life--certainly no
more than an average sample of his kind; but as he is to go through a
considerable variety of situation and circumstance, I thought you would
like to have him as distinctly before your mind's eye as it was in my
power to present him.--Well--he put his hat on, as I have said; buttoned
the lowest two buttons of his surtout, and stuck his white pocket
handkerchief into the outside pocket in front, as already mentioned,
anxiously disposing it so as to let a little appear above the edge of
the pocket, with a sort of careful carelessness--a graceful contrast to
the blue; drew on his gloves; took his cane in his hand; drained the
last sad remnant of infusion of chiccory in his coffee-cup; and, the sun
shining in the full splendor of a July noon, and promising a glorious
day, forth sallied this poor fellow, an Oxford Street Adonis, going
forth conquering and to conquer! Petty finery without, a pinched and
stinted stomach within; a case of Back _versus_ Belly, (as the lawyers
would have it,) the plaintiff winning in a canter! Forth sallied, I say,
Mr. Titmouse, as also, doubtless, sallied forth that day some five or
six thousand similar personages, down the narrow, creaking, close
staircase, which he had no sooner quitted than he heard exclaimed from
an opposite window, "My eyes! _a'n't_ that a swell!" He felt how true
the observation was, and that at that moment he was somewhat out of his
element; so he hurried on, and soon reached that great broad
disheartening street, apostrophized by the celebrated Opium-Eater,[1]
with bitter feeling, as--"Oxford Street!--stony-hearted stepmother! Thou
that listenest to the sighs of orphans, and drinkest the tears of
children!" Here, though his spirits were not just then very buoyant, our
poor little dandy breathed more freely than when he was passing through
the wretched crowded court (Closet Court) which he had just quitted. He
passed and met hundreds who, like himself, seemed released for a
precious day's interval from miserable confinement and slavery during
the week; but there were not very many of them who could vie with him in
elegance of appearance--and that was indeed a luxurious reflection! Who
could do justice to the air with which he strutted along! He felt as
happy, poor soul, in his little ostentation, as his Corinthian rival in
tip-top turn-out, after twice as long, and as anxious, and fifty times
as expensive, preparations for effective public display! Nay, _my_ poor
swell was in some respects greatly the superior of such an one as I have
alluded to. Mr. Titmouse _did_, to a great degree, bedizen his back--but
at the expense of his belly; whereas, the Corinthian exquisite, too
often taking advantage of station and influence, recklessly both pampers
his luxurious appetite within, and decorates his person without, at the
expense of innumerable heart-aching creditors. I do not mean, however,
to claim any real merit for Mr. Titmouse on this score, because I am not
sure how he would act if he were to become possessed of his magnificent
rival's means and opportunities for the perpetration of gentlemanly
frauds on a splendid scale.--But we shall perhaps see by and by.
Mr. Titmouse walked along with leisurely step; for haste and
perspiration were vulgar, and he had the day before him. Observe, now,
the careless glance of self-satisfaction with which he occasionally
regards his bright boots, with their martial appendage, giving out a
faint clinking sound as he heavily treads the broad flags; his spotless
trousers, his tight surtout, and the tip of white handkerchief peeping
_accidentally_ out in front! A pleasant sight it was to behold him in a
chance rencontre with some one genteel enough to be recognized--as he
stood, resting on his left leg; his left arm stuck upon his hip; his
right leg easily bent outwards; his right hand lightly holding his ebon
cane, with the gilt head of which he occasionally tapped his teeth; and
his eyes, half closed, scrutinizing the face and figure of each "_pretty
gal_" as she passed, and to whom he had a delicious consciousness that
he appeared an object of interest! This was indeed HAPPINESS, as far as
his forlorn condition could admit of his enjoying happiness.--He had no
particular object in view. A tiff over-night with two of his shopmates,
had broken off a party which they had agreed the Sunday preceding in
forming, to go that day to Greenwich; and this trifling circumstance had
a little soured his temper, depressed as had been his spirits before. He
resolved, on consideration, to walk straight on, and dine somewhere a
little way out of town, by way of passing the time till four o'clock, at
which hour he intended to make his appearance in Hyde Park, "to see the
swells and the fashions," which was his favorite Sunday occupation.
His condition was, indeed, forlorn in the extreme. To say nothing of his
_prospects_ in life--what was his present condition? A shopman with
thirty-five pounds a-year, out of which he had to find his clothing,
washing, lodging, and all other incidental expenses--the chief item of
his board--such as it was--being found him by his employers! He was five
weeks in arrear to his landlady--a corpulent old termagant, whom nothing
could have induced him to risk offending, but his overmastering love of
finery; for I grieve to say, that this deficiency had been occasioned by
his purchase of the ring he then wore with so much pride! How he had
contrived to pacify her--lie upon lie he must have had recourse to--I
know not. He was indebted also to his poor washerwoman in five or six
shillings for at least a quarter's washing; and owed five times that
amount to a little old tailor, who, with huge spectacles on his nose,
turned up to him, out of a little cupboard which he occupied in Closet
Court, and which Titmouse had to pass whenever he went to or from his
lodgings, a lean, sallow, wrinkled face, imploring him to "settle his
small account." All the cash in hand which he had to meet contingencies
between that day and quarter-day, which was six weeks off, was about
twenty-six shillings, of which he had taken one for the present day's
expenses!
Revolving these somewhat disheartening matters in his mind, he passed
easily and leisurely along the whole length of Oxford Street. No one
could have judged from his dressy appearance, the constant smirk on his
face, and his confident air, how very miserable that poor little dandy
was; but three-fourths of his misery were really occasioned by the
impossibility he felt of his ever being able to indulge in his
propensities for finery and display. Nothing better had he to occupy his
few thoughts. He had had only a plain mercantile education, as it is
called, _i. e._ reading, writing, and arithmetic; beyond an exceedingly
moderate acquaintance with these, he knew nothing whatever; not having
read anything except a few inferior novels, and plays, and sporting
newspapers. Deplorable, however, as were his circumstances--
"Hope springs eternal in the human breast."
And probably, in common with most who are miserable from straitened
circumstances, he often conceived, and secretly relied upon, the
possibility of some unexpected and accidental change for the better. He
had heard and read of extraordinary cases of LUCK. Why might he not be
one of the LUCKY? A rich girl might fall in love with him--that was,
poor fellow! in his consideration, one of the least unlikely ways of
luck's advent; or some one might leave him money; or he might win a
prize in the lottery;--all these, and other accidental modes of getting
rich, frequently occurred to the well-regulated mind of Mr. Tittlebat
Titmouse; but he never once thought of one thing, viz. of determined,
unwearying industry, perseverance, and integrity in the way of his
business, conducing to such a result!
Is his case a solitary one?--Dear reader, _you_ may be unlike poor
Tittlebat Titmouse in every respect except _one_!
On he walked towards Bayswater; and finding that it was yet early, and
considering that the farther he went from town the better prospect there
would be of his being able, with little sacrifice of appearances, to get
a dinner consistent with the means he carried about with him, viz. one
shilling, he pursued his way a mile or two beyond Bayswater; and, sure
enough, came at length upon a nice little public-house on the roadside,
called the Square-toes Arms. Very tired, and very dusty, he first sat
down in a small back room to rest himself; and took the opportunity to
call for a clothes-brush and shoe-brush, to relieve his clothes and
boots from the heavy dust upon them. Having thus attended to his outer
man, as far as circumstances would permit, he bethought himself of his
inner man, whose cravings he presently satisfied with a pretty
substantial mutton-pie and a pint of porter. This fare, together with a
penny (which he felt _forced_ to give) to the little girl who waited on
him, cost him tenpence; and then, having somewhat refreshed himself, he
began to think of returning to town. Having lit one of his two cigars,
he sallied forth, puffing along with an air of quiet enjoyment. Dinner,
however humble, seldom fails, especially when accompanied by a fair
draught of tolerable porter, in some considerable degree to tranquillize
the animal spirits; and that soothing effect began soon to be
experienced by Mr. Titmouse. The sedative _cause_ he erroneously
considered to be the cigar he was smoking; whereas in fact the only
tobacco he had imbibed was from the porter. But, however that might be,
he certainly returned towards town in a calmer and more cheerful humor
than that in which he had quitted it an hour or two before.
As he approached Cumberland Gate, it was about half-past five; and the
Park might be said to be at its _acme_ of fashion, as far as that could
be indicated by a sluggish stream of carriages, three and four
abreast--coroneted panels in abundance--noble and well-known equestrians
of both sexes, in troops--and some hundreds of pedestrians of the same
description. So continuous was the throng of carriages and horsemen,
that Titmouse did not find it the easiest matter in the world to dart
across to the footpath in the inner circle. That, however, he presently
safely accomplished, encountering no more serious mischance than the
muttered "D--n your eyes!" of a haughty groom, between whom and his
master Mr. Titmouse had presumed to intervene. What a crowd of elegant
women, many of them young and beautiful, (who but such, to be sure,
would have become, or been allowed to become, pedestrians in the Park?)
he encountered, as he slowly sauntered on, all of them obsequiously
attended by brilliant beaux! Lords and ladies were here manifestly as
plentiful as plebeians in Oxford Street. What an enchanted ground!--How
delicious this soft crush and flutter of aristocracy! Poor Titmouse felt
at once an intense pleasure, and a withering consciousness of his utter
insignificance. Many a sigh of dissatisfaction and envy escaped him; yet
he stepped along with a tolerably assured air, looking everybody he met
straight in the face, and occasionally twirling about his little cane
with an air which seemed to say--"Whatever opinion _you_ may form of me,
I have a very good opinion of myself." Indeed, was he not as much a
man--an Englishman--as the best of them? What was the real difference
between Count Do-'em-all and Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse? Only that the Count
had dark hair and whiskers, and owed more money than Mr. Titmouse's
creditors could be persuaded to allow _him_ to owe! Would to
Heaven--thought Titmouse--that any _one_ tailor would patronize _him_ as
half a dozen had patronized the Count! If pretty ladies of quality did
not disdain a walking advertisement of a few first-rate tailors, like
the Count, why should they turn up their noses at an assistant in an
extensive wholesale and retail establishment in Oxford Street,
conversant with the qualities and prices of the most beautiful articles
of female attire? Yet alas, they _did_ so!---- He sighed heavily.
Leaning against the railing in a studied attitude, and eying wistfully
each gay and fashionable equipage, with its often lovely, and sometimes
haughty enclosure, as it rolled slowly past him, Mr. Titmouse became
more and more convinced of a great practical truth, viz. that the only
real distinction between mankind was that effected by money. Want of
money alone had placed him in his present abject position. Abject
indeed! By the great folk, who were passing him on all sides, he felt,
well-dressed as he believed himself to be, that he was no more noticed
than as if he had been an ant, a blue-bottle fly, or a black beetle! He
looked, and sighed--sighed, and looked--looked, and sighed again, in a
kind of agony of vain longing. While his only day in the week for
breathing fresh air, and appearing like a gentleman in the world, was
rapidly drawing to a close, and he was beginning to think of returning
to the dog-hole he had crawled out of in the morning, and to the shop
for the rest of the week; the great, and gay, and happy folk he was
looking at, were thinking of driving home to dress for their grand
dinners, and to lay out every kind of fine amusement for the ensuing
week: and that, moreover, was the sort of life they led every day in
the week! He heaved a profound sigh. At that moment a superb cab, with a
gentleman in it dressed in great elegance, and with very keen dark eyes,
and striking nose and whiskers, came up with a cab of still more
exquisite structure and appointments, and at which Titmouse gazed with
unutterable feelings of envy--in which sat a young man, evidently of
consequence; very handsome, with splendid mustaches; perfectly
well-dressed; holding the reins and whip gracefully in hands glistening
in straw-colored kid gloves--and between the two gentlemen ensued the
following low-toned colloquy, which it were to be wished that every such
sighing simpleton (as Titmouse must, I fear, by this time appear to the
reader) could have overheard.
"Ah, Fitz!" said the former-mentioned gentleman to the latter, who
suddenly reddened when he perceived who had addressed him. The manner of
the speaker was execrably familiar and presumptuous--but how could the
embarrassed _swell_ help himself?--"When did you return to town?"
"Last night only"----
"Enjoyed yourself, I hope?"
"Pretty well--but--I--suppose you"----
"Sorry for it," interrupted the first speaker in a lower tone,
perceiving the vexation of his companion; "but can't help it, you know."
"When?"
"To-morrow at nine. Monstrous sorry for it--'pon my soul, you really
must look sharp, Fitz, or the thing won't go on much longer."
"Must it be, really?" inquired the other, biting his lips--at that
moment kissing his hand to a very beautiful girl, who slowly passed him
in a coroneted chariot--"must it really be, Joe?" he repeated, turning
towards his companion a pale and bitterly chagrined countenance.
"Poz, 'pon my life. Cage clean, however, and not very full--just at
present"----
"Would not _Wednesday_!"--inquired the other, leaning forward towards
the former speaker's cab, and whispering with an air of intense
earnestness. "The fact is, I've engagements at C----'s on Monday and
Tuesday nights with one or two country cousins, and I _may_ be in a
condition--eh? you understand?"
His companion shook his head distrustfully.
"Upon my word and honor as a gentleman, it's the fact!" said the other,
in a low vehement tone.
"Then--say Wednesday, nine o'clock, A. M. You understand? No mistake,
Fitz!" replied his companion, looking him steadily in the face as he
spoke.
"None--honor!"--After a pause--"Who is it?"
His companion took a slip of paper out of his pocket, and in a whisper
read from it--"Cab, harness, &c., £297, 10s."
"A villain! It's been of only three years' standing," interrupted the
other, in an indignant mutter.
"Between ourselves, he _is_ rather a sharp hand. Then, I'm sorry to say
there's a Detainer or two I have had a hint of"----
The swell uttered an execration which I dare not convey to paper--his
face distorted with an expression of mingled disgust, vexation, and
hatred; and adding, "Wednesday--nine"--drove off, a picture of tranquil
enjoyment.
I need hardly say that _he_ was a fashionable young spendthrift, and the
other a sheriff's officer of the first water--the genteelest _beak_ that
ever was known or heard of--who had been on the look-out for him several
days, and with whom the happy youngster was doomed to spend some
considerable time at a cheerful residence in Chancery Lane, bleeding
gold at every pore the while:--his only chance of avoiding which, was,
as he had truly hinted, an honorable attempt on the purses of two
hospitable country cousins, in the meanwhile, at C----'s! And if he did
not succeed in that enterprise, so that he _must_ go to cage, he lost
the only chance he had for some time of securing an exemption from such
annoyance, by entering Parliament to protect the liberties of the
people--an eloquent and resolute champion of freedom in trade, religion,
and everything else; and an abolitionist of everything, including,
especially, negro slavery and imprisonment for debt[2]--two execrable
violations of the natural rights of mankind.
But I have, for several minutes, lost sight of the admiring Titmouse.
"Why," thought he, "am _I_ thus spited by fortune?--The only thing she's
given _me_ is--nothing!--_D--n everything!_" exclaimed Mr. Titmouse
aloud, at the same time starting off, to the infinite astonishment of an
old peer, who had been for some minutes standing leaning against the
railing, close beside him; who was master of a magnificent fortune,
"with all appliances and means to boot;" with a fine grown-up family,
his eldest son and heir having just gained a Double First, and promising
wonders; possessing many mansions in different parts of England; a
reputation for exquisite taste and accomplishment; and being the
representative of one of the oldest families in England; but who at that
moment loathed everything and everybody, including himself, because the
minister had the day before intimated to him that he could not give him
a vacant ribbon, for which he had applied, unless he could command two
more votes in the Lower House, and which at present his lordship saw no
earthly means of doing. Yes, the Earl of Cheviotdale and Mr. Tittlebat
Titmouse were both miserable men; both had been hardly dealt with by
fortune; both were greatly to be pitied; and both quitted the Park,
about the same time, with a decided misanthropic tendency.
Mr. Titmouse walked along Piccadilly with a truly chopfallen and
disconsolate air. He very nearly felt dissatisfied even with his
personal appearance! Dress as he would, no one seemed to care a curse
for him; and, to his momentarily jaundiced eye, he seemed equipped in
only second-hand and shabby finery; and then he was really such a _poor_
devil!--Do not, however, let the reader suppose that this was an unusual
mood with Mr. Titmouse. No such thing. Like the Irishman who "married a
wife for to make him _un-aisy_;" and also not unlike the moth that
_will_ haunt the brightness which is her destruction; so poor Titmouse,
Sunday after Sunday, dressed himself out as elaborately as he had done
on the present occasion, and then always betook himself to the scene he
had just again witnessed, and which had once again excited only those
feelings of envy, bitterness, and despair, which I have been describing,
and which, on every such occasion, he experienced with, if possible,
increased intensity.
What to do with himself till it should be time to return to his
cheerless lodgings he did not exactly know; so he loitered along at a
snail's pace. He stood for some time staring at the passengers, their
luggage, and the coaches they were ascending and alighting from, and
listening to the strange medley of coachmens', guards', and porters'
vociferations, and passengers' greetings and leave-takings--always to be
observed at the White Horse Cellar. Then he passed along, till a street
row, near the Haymarket, attracted his attention and interested his
feelings; for it ended in a regular set-to between two watermen attached
to the adjoining coach-stand. Here he conceived himself looking on with
the easy air of a swell; and the ordinary penalty (paying for his
footing) was attempted to be exacted from him; but he had nothing to be
picked out of any of his pockets except that under his very nose, and
which contained his white handkerchief! This over, he struck into
Leicester Square, where, (he was in luck that night,) hurrying up to
another crowd at the farther end, he found a man preaching with infinite
energy. Mr. Titmouse looked on, and listened for two or three minutes
with apparent interest; and then, with a countenance in which pity
struggled with contempt, muttered, loud enough to be heard by all near
him, "poor devil!" and walked off. He had not proceeded many steps,
before it occurred to him that a friend--one Robert Huckaback, much such
another one as himself--lived in one of the narrow, dingy streets in the
neighborhood. He determined to take the chances of his being at home,
and if so, of spending the remainder of the evening with him.
Huckaback's quarters were in the same ambitious proximity to heaven as
his own; the only difference being, that they were a trifle cheaper and
larger. He answered the door himself, having only the moment before
returned from _his_ Sunday's excursion,--_i. e._ the Jack Straw's Castle
Tea-Gardens, at Highgate, where, in company with several of his friends,
he had "spent a jolly afternoon." He ordered in a glass of negus from
the adjoining public-house, after some discussion, which ended in an
agreement that he should stand treat that night, and Titmouse on the
ensuing Sunday night. As soon as the negus had arrived, accompanied by
two sea-biscuits, which looked so hard and hopeless that they would have
made the nerves thrill within the teeth of him that meditated attempting
to masticate them, the candle was lit; Huckaback handed a cigar to his
friend; and both began to puff away, and chatter pleasantly concerning
the many events and scenes of the day.
"Anything stirring in to-day's 'Flash?'" inquired Titmouse, as his eye
caught sight of a copy of that able and interesting Sunday newspaper,
the "SUNDAY FLASH," which Huckaback had hired for the evening from the
news-shop on the ground-floor of his lodgings.
Mr. Huckaback removed his cigar from his mouth, and holding it between
the first and second fingers of his right hand, in a knowing style, with
closed eyes and inflated cheeks, very slowly ejected the smoke which he
had last inhaled, and rose and got the paper from the top of the
drawers.
"Here's a mark of a beastly porter-pot that's been set upon it, by all
that's holy! It's been at the public-house! Too bad of Mrs. Coggs to
send it me up in this state!" said he, handling it as though its touch
were contamination.--(He was to pay only a halfpenny for the perusal of
it.) "Faugh! how it stinks!"
"What a horrid beast she must be!" exclaimed Titmouse, after, in like
manner as his friend, expelling his mouthful of smoke. "But, since
better can't be had, let's hear what news is in it. Demmee! it's the
only paper published, in my opinion, that's worth reading!--Any fights
astirring?"
"Haven't come to them yet; give a man _time_, Titty!" replied Huckaback,
fixing his feet on another chair, and drawing the candle closer to the
paper. "It says, by the way, that the Duke of Dunderhead is certainly
making up to Mrs. Thumps, the rich cheesemonger's widow;--a precious
good hit that, isn't it? You know the Duke's as poor as a rat!"
"Oh! _that's_ no news. It's been in the papers for I don't know how
long. Egad, 't will quite set him up--and no mistake. Seen the Duke
ever?"
"Ye--es! Oh, several times!" replied Huckaback. This was a lie, and
Huckaback knew that it was.
"Deuced good-looking, I suppose?"
"Why--middling; I should say middling. Know _some_ that needn't fear to
compare with _him_--eh! Tit?"--and Huckaback winked archly at his
friend, meaning him, however, to consider the words as applicable to the
speaker.
"Ah, ha, ha!--a pretty joke! But come, that's a good chap!--You can't be
reading both of those two sheets at once--give us the other sheet, and
set the candle right betwixt us!--Come, fair's the word among _gents_,
you know!"
Huckaback thus appealed to, did as his friend requested; and the two
gentlemen read and smoked for some minutes in silence.
"Well--I shall spell over the advertisements now," said Titmouse, very
emphatically; "there's a pretty lot of them--and I've read everything
else--(though precious little there is, _here_ besides!)--So, here
goes!--One _may_ hear of a prime situation, you know--and I'm quite sick
of Tag-rag!"
Another interval of silence ensued. Huckaback was deep in the ghastly
but instructive details of a trial for murder; and Titmouse, after
having glanced listlessly over the entertaining first sheet of
advertisements, was on the point of laying down his half of the paper,
when he suddenly started in his chair, turned very pale, and stammered--
"Hollo!--hollo, Hucky!--Why"----
"What's the matter, Tit?--eh?" inquired Huckaback, greatly astonished.
For a moment Titmouse made no answer, but, dropping his cigar, fixed his
eyes intently on the paper, which began to rustle in his trembling
hands. What occasioned this outbreak, with its subsequent agitation, was
the following advertisement, which appeared in the most conspicuous part
of the "SUNDAY FLASH:"--
"NEXT OF KIN--Important.--The next of kin, if any such there be, of
GABRIEL TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE, formerly of WHITEHAVEN, cordwainer, and
who died somewhere about the year 1793, in London, may hear of
something of the GREATEST POSSIBLE IMPORTANCE to himself, or
herself, or themselves, by immediately communicating with Messrs.
QUIRK, GAMMON, and SNAP, Solicitors, Saffron Hill. No time is to be
lost. 9th July 18--.--_The third advertisement._"
"By George! Here _is_ a go!" exclaimed Huckaback, almost as much
flustered as Titmouse over whose shoulder he had hastily read the above
paragraph.
"We aren't dreaming, Hucky--are we?" inquired Titmouse, faintly, his
eyes still glued to the newspaper.
"No--by George! Never was either of us fellows so precious wide awake in
our lives before! that I'll answer for!" Titmouse sat still, and turned
paler even than before.
"Read it up, Huck!--Let's hear how it _sounds_, and then we shall
believe it!" said he, handing the paper to his friend.
Huckaback read it aloud.
"It sounds like something, don't it?" inquired Titmouse, tremulously,
his color a little returning.
"Uncommon!--If this isn't _something_, then there's nothing in anything
any more!" replied Huckaback, solemnly, at the same time emphatically
slapping the table.
"No!--'Pon my soul! but do you really think so?" said Titmouse, seeking
still further confirmation than he had yet derived from his senses of
sight and hearing.
"I do, by jingo!" repeated Huckaback--"What a go it is!--Well, my poor
old mother used to say, 'depend on it, wonders never _will_ cease;' and
curse me if she ever said a truer word!"
Titmouse again read over the advertisement; and then picking up and
relighting his fragment of cigar, puffed earnestly in silence for some
moments.
"Such things never happens to such a poor devil of a chap as me!"
exclaimed Huckaback, with a sigh.
"What _is_ in the wind, I wonder?" muttered Titmouse. "Who
knows--hem!--who knows?--But now, _really_"---- he paused, and once more
read over the pregnant paragraph.--"It can't--no, curse me, it _can't_
be"---- he added, looking very serious.
"What, Tit? _What_ can't be?" interrupted Huckaback, eagerly.
"Why, I've been thinking--but what do _you_ think, eh?--it can't
_hardly_ be a cursed hoax of the chaps in the premises at Tag-rag's?"
"Bo!--Is there any of 'em flush enough of money to do the thing? And how
should they think it would ever come to be seen by you?--Then, besides,
there isn't a chap among them that could come up to the composing a
piece of composition like that--no, not for all a whole year's
salary--there isn't, by George! You and I couldn't do it, and, of
course, _they_ couldn't!"
"Ah! I don't know," said Titmouse, doubtfully. "But--honor!--do you
really now think there's anything in it?"
"I do--I'm blowed if I don't, Tit!" was the sententious answer.
"Tol de rol, de rol, de rol, de rol--diddl'em--daddl'em--bang!" almost
shouted Titmouse, jumping up, snapping his fingers, and dancing about in
a wild ecstasy, which lasted for nearly a minute.
"Give me your hand, Hucky," said he presently, almost breathless. "If I
_am_ a made man--tol de rol, lol de rol, lol de rol, lol!--you see,
Huck!--if I don't give you the handsomest breastpin you ever saw? No
paste! real diamond!--Hurrah! I will, by jingo!"
Huckaback grasped and squeezed his hand. "We've always been friends,
Tit--haven't we?" said he, affectionately.
"My room won't hold me to-night!" continued Titmouse; "I'm sure it
won't. I feel as if I was, as you may say, swelling all over. I'll walk
the streets all night: I couldn't sleep a wink for the life of me! I'll
walk about till the shop opens. Oh, faugh! how nasty! Confound the shop,
and Tag-rag, and everything and everybody in it! Thirty-five pounds a
year? See if I won't spend as much in cigars the first month!"
"Cigars! Is that your go? Now, _I_ should take lessons in boxing, to
begin with. It's a deuced high thing, you may depend upon it, and you
can't be fit company for swells without it, Tit! You can't, by Jove!"
"Whatever you like, whatever you like, Hucky!" cried Titmouse--adding,
in a sort of ecstasy, "I'm sorry to say it, but how _precious_ lucky
that my father and mother's dead, and that I'm an only
child--too-ra-laddy, too-ra-laddy!" Here he took such a sudden leap,
that I am sorry to say he split his trousers very awkwardly, and that
sobered him for a moment, while they made arrangements for cobbling it
up as well as might be, with a needle and thread which Huckaback always
had by him.
"We're rather jumping in the dark a-bit, aren't we, Tit?" inquired
Huckaback, while his companion was repairing the breach. "Let's look
what it all means--here it is." He read it all aloud again--"'_greatest
possible importance_!'--what _can it_ mean? Why the deuce couldn't they
speak out plainly?"
"What! in a newspaper? Lord, Hucky! how many Titmouses would start up on
all sides, if there isn't some already indeed! I wonder what '_greatest
possible importance_' can mean, now!"
"Some one's left you an awful lot of money, of course"----
"It's too good to be true"----
"Or you may have made a _smite_; you a'n't such a bad-looking fellow,
when you're dressed as you are now--you a'n't indeed, Titty!" Mr.
Titmouse was quite flustered with the mere supposition, and also looked
as sheepish as his features would admit of.
"E-e-e-eh, Hucky! how ve-ry silly you are!" he simpered.
"Or you may be found out heir to some great property, and all that kind
of thing.--But when do you intend to go to Messrs. What's-their-name? I
should say, the sooner the better. Come, you've stitched them trousers
well enough, now; they'll hold you till you get home, (you do brace up
uncommon tight!) and I'd take off my straps, if I was you. Why shouldn't
we go to these gents now? Ah, here they are--Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and
Snap, solicitors."
"I wonder if they're great men? Did you ever hear of them before?"
"Haven't I! Their names is always in this same paper; they are every day
getting people off out of all kinds of scrapes--they're the chaps _I_
should nat'rally go to if I anyhow got wrong--ahem!"
"But, my dear fellow--_Saffron Hill!_--Low that--devilish low, 'pon my
soul! Never was near it in my life."
"But they live there to be near the thieves. Lud, the thieves couldn't
do without 'em! But what's that to you! You know 'a very dirty ugly toad
has often got a jewel in his belly,' so Shakspeare or some one says.
Isn't it enough for _you_, Tit, if they can make good their
advertisement? Let's off, Tit--let's off, I say; for you mayn't be able
to get there to-morrow--your employers!"----
"My employers! Do you think, Hucky, I'm going back to business after
this?"
"Come, come, Titty--not so fast--suppose it all turns out moonshine,
after all"--quoth Huckaback, seriously.
"Lord, but I _won't_ suppose anything of the sort! It makes me sick to
think of nothing coming of it!--Let's go off at once, and see what's to
be done!"
So Huckaback put the newspaper into his pocket, blew out the candle, and
the two started on their important errand. It was well that their means
had been too limited to allow of their indulging to a greater extent
than a glass of port-wine negus (that was the name under which they had
drunk the "_publican's_ port"--_i. e._ a warm sweetened decoction of oak
bark, logwood shavings, and a little brandy) between them; otherwise,
excited as were the feelings of each of them by the discovery of the
evening, they must in all probability have been guilty of some piece of
extravagance in the streets. As it was, they talked very loudly as they
went along, and in a tone of conversation pitched perhaps a little too
high for their present circumstances, however in unison it might be with
the expected circumstances of _one_ of them.
In due time they reached the residence of which they were in search. It
was a large house, greatly superior to all its dingy neighbors; and on a
bright brass plate, a yard long at least, and a foot wide, stood the
awe-inspiring words, "QUIRK, GAMMON, & SNAP, SOLICITORS."
"Now, Tit," whispered Huckaback, after they had paused for a second or
two--"now for it--pluck up a sperrit--ring!"
"I--I--'pon my life--I feel all of a sudden uncommon funky--I think that
last cigar of yours wasn't"----
"Stuff, Tit--ring! ring away! Faint heart never wins!"
"Well, it _must_ be done: so--here goes at any rate!" he replied; and
with a short nervous jerk, he caused a startling clatter within, which
was so distinctly audible without, that both of them instinctively
_hemmed_, as if to drown the noise which was so much greater than they
had expected. In a very few moments they heard some one undoing the
fastenings of the door, and the gentlemen looked at one another with an
expression of mingled expectation and apprehension. A little old woman
at length, with a candle in her hand, retaining the heavy door-chain in
its fastening, peered round the edge of the door at them.
"Who are you?" she exclaimed crustily.
"Is this Messrs.--What is it, Huck?--Oh! Messrs. Quirk & Co.'s?"
inquired Titmouse, tapping the end of his cane against his chin, with a
desperate effort to appear at his ease.
"Why, where's your eyes?" she replied angrily, "I should think you might
have seen what was wrote on this here plate--it's large enough, one
should have thought, to be read by them as _can_ read--Is your's Newgate
business? Because if----"
"We want--Give us the paper, Hucky"--he added, addressing his companion,
who produced it in a moment; and Titmouse would have proceeded to
possess the old lady of all his little heart, when she cut him short by
saying snappishly--"They aren't none on 'em in; nor never is on
Sundays--so you'll just call to-morrow if you wants 'em. What's your
names?"
"Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse," answered that gentleman, with a very
particular emphasis on every syllable.
"Mr. _who_?" exclaimed the old woman, opening her eyes very wide, and
raising her hand to the back of her ear. Mr. Titmouse repeated his name
more loudly and distinctly.
"Tippetytippety--what's that?"
"No, no!" exclaimed Titmouse, peevishly; "I said, Mr. Tit-el-bat
Tit-mouse!--will that suit you?"
"Tick-a-tick-a-tick?--Well, gracious! if ever I heard such a name.
Oh!--I see!--you're making a fool of me! Get off, or I'll call a
constable in!--Get along with you, you couple of jail-birds! Is this the
way"----
"I tell you," interposed Mr. Huckaback, angrily, "that this gentleman's
name is Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse; and you'd better take care what you're
at, old woman, for we've come on business of _wital consequence_!"
"I dare say it'll keep, then, till to-morrow," tartly added the old
woman.
The friends consulted for a moment, and then Titmouse asked if he might
come in and write a letter to Messrs. Quirk and Co.
"No indeed!" said she; "how do I know who you are? There's a
public-house close by, where you may write what you like, and bring it
here, and they'll get it the first thing in the morning. So that's what
you may take away with you!"--with which the complaisant old janitrix
shut the door in their faces.
"Huck, 'pon my life, I am afraid there's nothing in it," said Titmouse,
despondingly, to his friend--both of them remaining rooted to the spot.
"Oudacious old toad!" muttered Huckaback, very indignantly.
"Hucky--I'm _sure_ there's nothing in it!" exclaimed Titmouse, after a
long pause, looking earnestly at his friend, hoping to draw from him a
contrary opinion.
"I--I own I don't half like the looks of it," replied Huckaback, putting
his newspaper into his pocket again; "but we'll try if we can't write a
letter to sound 'em, and so far take the old creature's advice. Here's
the public-house she told us of. Come, let's see what's to be done!"
Titmouse, greatly depressed, followed his friend; and they soon provided
themselves with two glasses of stout, and after a little difficulty,
with implements for writing. That they made good use of their time and
materials, let the following epistle prove. It was their joint
composition, and here is an exact copy of it:--
"_To Messrs._ QUIRK, GAMMON _and_ SNAP.
"SIR,
"Your Names being Put In an Advertisement in This present _Sunday
Flash_, Newspaper of To Day's Date, Mr. T. T. Begs To inform Your
respectable House I feel Uncommon anxious To speak with them On
This _truly interesting subject_, seeing It mentions The Name Of
Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse, which Two last Names Of That Deceased
Person _my Own Name Is_, which can _Any_ Day (As soon As Possible)
call and _prove_ To you, By telling you The Same, _truly_. He being
Engaged in Business During the week Very close, (for The Present,)
I hope that If they Have Anything particular To say To Him, they
will write To me without The least Delay, and please address T. T.,
At Tag-rag and Co.'s, No. 375, Oxford Street, Post-Paid, which will
ensure Its Being duly Taken In By my Employers, and am,
"Gents,
"Your's to Command,
"TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE.
"P. S.--My Friend, which Is With me writing This, (Mr. Robert
Huckaback,) can prove who I am If necessiated so to do.
"N. B.--Shall have no objections to do the Liberal Thing if
anything suitable Turns Up Of It.
"T. T.
"(_Sunday Evening, 9/7/18--._
"Forgot to Say, am The only Child of my Honored Parents, one of
which (my Mother) Died; before I knew them In Lawful Wedloc, and
Was 27 last Birth Day, Never having Seen your Advertisement Till
This Night, w^h, if Necessary _can Prove_.)"
This perspicuous and truly elegant performance having been thrice
subjected to the critical examination of the friends, (the paragraph
concerning Huckaback having been inserted at the instance of that
gentleman, who wished to be mixed up from the beginning with so
promising an affair,) was then folded up, and directed to "Messrs. Quirk
and Co.," a great straggling wet wafer having been first put upon it. It
was safely deposited, a few minutes afterwards, with the old lady at
Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap's; and then the two West-End gentlemen
hastened away from that truly plebeian part of the town! Under three
different gas-lights did they stop, take out the newspaper, and spell
over the advertisement; by which ingenious processes they at length
succeeded in satisfying themselves that there _was_ something in it--a
fact of which, upon the old woman shutting the door in their faces, it
may be recollected they had had grievous misgivings. They parted,
however, with a considerable abatement of the excitement with which they
had set out on their voyage of discovery.
Mr. Titmouse did not, on reaching his room, take off and lay aside his
precious Sunday apparel with his accustomed care and deliberation. On
the contrary, he peeled it off, as it were, and threw himself on the bed
as quickly as possible, in order that he might calmly revolve the
immense event of the day in his little mind, which it had agitated like
a stone thrown into a stagnant pool by the roadside. Oh, how restless
was he!--not more so could he have been had he lain between horse-hair
sheets. He repeatedly got up and walked about two or three little steps,
which were all that his room admitted of. At the very first peep of
daylight he started out of bed, got out of his pocket the newspaper
which Huckaback had lent him, strove to decipher the advertisement, and
then sank into bed again--but not to sleep, till four or five o'clock;
having nevertheless to rise at half-past six, to resume his detested
duties at Tag-rag and Co.'s, whose shop he assisted in opening at seven
o'clock, as usual. When he and his shopmates were sitting together at
breakfast, he could not for the life of him help letting out a little,
vaguely and mysteriously, about "something that _might_ happen in the
course of the day;" and thereby succeeded in satisfying his experienced
companions that he expected the visit of a policeman, for some _row_ he
had been concerned in over-night.--Well:--eight, nine, ten o'clock wore
away heavily, and nothing transpired, alas! to vary the monotonous
duties in which Mr. Titmouse was engaged; bale after bale, and package
after package, he took down and put up again, at the bidding of pretty,
capricious customers; silk, satin, bombazines, crapes, muslins, ribbons,
gloves, he assisted in displaying, disposing of, or replacing as usual;
but it was clear that his powerful understanding could no longer settle
itself, as before, upon his responsible and arduous duties. Every other
minute he cast a feverish furtive glance towards the door. He almost
dropped, at one time, as a postman crossed from the opposite side of the
street, as if to enter their shop--then passing on immediately, however,
to the next door. Not a person, in short, entered the premises, whom he
did not scrutinize narrowly and anxiously, but in vain. No--buying and
selling was the order of the day, as usual!--Eleven o'clock struck, and
he sighed. "You don't seem well," said a pretty young woman, to whom,
in a somewhat absent manner, he was exhibiting and describing the
qualities of some cambric. "Oh--ye--es, uncommon!" he replied; "never
better, ma'am, than when so well employed!" accompanying the latter
words with what he conceived to be a very arch, but which was in fact a
very impudent, look at his fair customer. At that moment a voice called
out to him from the farther end of the shop, near the door--"Titmouse!
Wanted!"
"Coming!" he shouted, turning as white as the cambric he held in his
hands--which became suddenly cold; while his heart went thump, thump, as
he hastily exclaimed to the astonished lady, "Excuse me, ma'am, if you
please--Jones," addressing the shopman next him, "will you attend to
this lady?" and he hastened whither he had been called, amid a prevalent
grin and "hem!" from his companions on each side, as he passed along the
shop, till he reached the spot where stood the stranger who had inquired
for him. He was of a slight and gentlemanly figure, above the average
height. His countenance was very striking: he was dressed with
simplicity--somewhat carelessly perhaps; and appeared somewhere about
thirty-six or thirty-seven years of age. He bowed slightly as Titmouse
approached him, and an air of very serious surprise came over his
expressive countenance.
"Mr. Titmouse?" he inquired blandly.
"Ye-e-s, sir, at your service," replied Titmouse, trembling
involuntarily all over. The stranger again slightly inclined towards
him, and--still more slightly--touched his hat; fixing on him, at the
same time, an inquisitive penetrating eye, which really abashed, or
rather perhaps alarmed him.
"You left--you favored us by leaving--a note at our office last night,
sir, addressed to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap?" he inquired,
lowering his voice to a whisper.
"Yes, sir, hoping it was no"----
"Pray, Mr. Titmouse, can we be alone for about five or ten minutes?"
"I--I--don't exactly know, _here_, sir; I'm afraid--against the rules of
the house--but I'll ask. Here _is_ Mr. Tag-rag.--May I step into the
cloak-room with this gentleman for a few minutes, sir?" he continued,
addressing his imperious employer, who, with a pen behind his right ear,
his left hand in his breeches pocket, and his right hand impatiently
tweedling about his watch-seals, had followed Titmouse, on hearing him
inquired for in the manner I have described, and stood at a yard or
two's distance, eying the two with a truculent dissatisfied look,
wondering what on earth any one _could_ want with one of _his_ young
men.
As Mr. Tag-rag will be rather a prominent figure on my canvas, I may as
well here give the reader a slight preparatory sketch of that gentleman.
He was about fifty-two years old; a great tyrant in his little way; a
compound of ignorance, selfishness, cant, and conceit. He knew nothing
on earth except the price of his goods, and how to make the most of his
business. He was of middle size, with a tendency to corpulence; and
almost invariably wore a black coat and waistcoat, a white neck
handkerchief very primly tied, and gray trousers. He had a dull, gray
eye, with white eyelashes, and no eyebrows; a forehead which seemed
ashamed of his face, it retreated so far and so abruptly back from it;
his face was pretty deeply pitted with the small-pox; his nose--or
rather semblance of a nose--consisted of two great nostrils looking at
you--as it were, impudently--out of the middle of his face; there was a
perfect level space from cheek-bone to cheek-bone; his gray whiskers,
trimly and closely cut, came in points to each corner of his mouth,
which was large, shapeless, and sensual-looking. This may serve, for
the present, to give you an idea of the man who had contrived to excite
towards himself the hatred and contempt of everybody over whom he had
any control--with whom in fact he had anything to do.
"You know quite well, sir, we never allow anything of the sort," was his
short reply, in a very disagreeable tone and manner, to Titmouse's
modest request.
"May I beg the favor of a few minutes' private conversation with Mr.
Titmouse," said the stranger, politely, "on a matter of the last
importance to him? My name, sir, is Gammon, and I am a solicitor of the
firm of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap"----
"Why, sir," answered Tag-rag, somewhat cowed by the calm and
gentlemanly, but at the same time decisive manner of Mr. Gammon--"it's
really very inconvenient, and decidedly against the rules of the house,
for any of my young men to be absent on business of their own during
_my_ business hours; but--I suppose--what must be must be--I'll give him
ten minutes--and he'd better not stay longer," he subjoined
fiercely--looking significantly first at his watch, and then at
Titmouse. "It's only for the sake of my other young men, you know, sir.
In a large establishment like ours, we're obliged, you know, sir," &c.
&c. &c., he added, in a low cringing tone, deprecatory of the
contemptuous air with which he _felt_ that Mr. Gammon was regarding him.
That gentleman, with a slight bow, and a sarcastic smile, presently
quitted the shop, accompanied by Titmouse, who scarce knew whether his
head or heels were uppermost.
"How far do you live from this place, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Mr.
Gammon, as soon as they had got into the street.
"Not four minutes' walk, sir; but--hem!"--he was flustered at the idea
of showing so eminent a person into his wretched room--"Suppose we were
to step into this tavern here, sir--I dare say they have a room at our
service"----
"Pray, allow me to ask, Mr. Titmouse--have you any private
papers--family writings, or things of that sort, at your rooms?"
Titmouse seemed considering.
"I--I think I have, sir," he replied--"one or two--but they're of no
consequence."
"Are you a _judge_ on that point, Mr. Titmouse?" inquired Mr. Gammon,
with a smile; "pray let us, my dear sir, at once proceed to your
rooms--time is very short and valuable. I should vastly like to look at
these same insignificant papers of yours!"
In less than two minutes' further time, Mr. Gammon was sitting at
Titmouse's little rickety round table, at his lodgings, with a sheet of
paper before him, and a small pencil-case in his hand, asking him a
number of questions concerning his birth and family connections, and
taking down his answers very carefully. Mr. Titmouse was surprised at
the gentleman's knowledge of the family history of the Titmouses. As for
papers, &c., Mr. Titmouse succeeded in producing four or five old
letters and memoranda from the bottom of his trunk, and one or two
entries, in faded ink, on the fly-leaf of a Bible of his father's, which
he did not recollect having opened before for very many years, and of
which said entries, till pressed on the subject by Mr. Gammon, he had
been hardly aware of even the existence. With these several documents
Mr. Gammon was so much struck that he proposed to take them away with
him, for better and more leisurely examination, and safer custody, at
their office; but Mr. Titmouse significantly hinted at his very recent
acquaintance with Mr. Gammon, who, he intimated, was at liberty to come
and make exact copies of them whenever he pleased, in his (Mr.
Titmouse's) presence.
"Oh, certainly--yes," replied Mr. Gammon, slightly coloring at the
distrust implied by this observation; "I applaud your caution, Mr.
Titmouse. By all means keep these documents, and most carefully;
because, (I do not say that they _are_,) but it is quite possible that
they may become rather valuable--to _you_."
"Thank you, sir; and now, hoping you'll excuse the liberty," said
Titmouse, with a very anxious air, "I should most uncommonly like to
know what all this means--what is to turn up out of it all?"
"The law, my dear sir, is proverbially uncertain"----
"Oh, Lord! but the law can surely give one a _hint_"----
"_The law never hints_," interrupted Mr. Gammon, impressively, with a
bland smile.
"Well then, how did you come, sir, to know that there ever was such a
person as Mr. Gabriel Titmouse, my father? And what can come from _him_,
seeing he was only a bit of a shoemaker--unless he's _heir_ to
something?"
"Ah, yes--exactly; those are very interesting questions, Mr.
Titmouse--very!"----
"Yes, sir; and them and many more I was going to ask long ago, but I saw
you were"----
"Sir, I perceive that we have positively been absent from your place of
business nearly an hour--your employers will be getting rather
impatient."
"Meaning no offence, sir--bother _their_ impatience! _I'm_ impatient, I
assure you, to know what all this means. Come, sir, 'pon my life I've
told _you_ everything! It isn't quite fair!"
"Why, certainly, you see, Mr. Titmouse," said Gammon, with an agreeable
smile--(it was that smile of his which had been the making of Mr.
Gammon)--"it is only candid in me to acknowledge that your curiosity is
perfectly reasonable, and your frankness very obliging; and I see no
difficulty in admitting at once, that _I have_ had a--motive"----
"Yes, sir--and all that--_I_ know, sir,"--hastily interrupted Titmouse,
but without irritating or disturbing the placid speaker.
"And that we waited with some anxiety for the result of our
advertisement."
"Ah, you can't escape from _that_, you know, sir!" interposed Titmouse,
with a confident air.
"But it is a maxim with us, my dear sir, never to be premature in
anything, especially when it may be--very prejudicial; you've really no
idea, my dear Mr. Titmouse, of the world of mischief that is often done
by precipitancy in legal matters; and in the present stage of the
business--the _present_ stage, my dear sir--I really do see it necessary
not to--do anything premature, and without consulting my partners."
"Lord, sir!" exclaimed Titmouse, getting more and more irritated and
impatient as he reflected on the length of his absence from Tag-rag &
Co.'s.
"I quite feel for your anxiety--so perfectly natural"----
"Oh, dear sir! if you'd only tell me the _least bit_"----
"If, my dear sir, I were to disclose just now the exact object we had in
inserting that advertisement in the papers"----
"How did you come to know of it at all, sir? Come, there can't be any
harm in _that_ anyhow"----
"Not the least, my dear sir. It was in the course of business--in the
course of business."
"Is it money that's been left me--or--anything of that sort?"
"It quite pains me, I assure you, Mr. Titmouse, to suppose that our
having put this advertisement into the papers may have misled you, and
excited false hopes--I think, by the way"--added Gammon, suddenly, as
something occurred to him of their previous conversation, which he was
not quite sure of--"you told me that that Bible had been given you by
your father."
"Oh yes, sir! yes--- no doubt of it; surely _that_ can't signify, seeing
he's dead, and I'm his only son?" asked Titmouse, quickly and eagerly.
"Oh, 'tis only a circumstance--a mere circumstance; but in business, you
know, Mr. Titmouse, every little helps--and you really, by the way, have
no recollection of your mother, Mr. Titmouse?"
"No, sir, I said so! And--meaning no offence, sir--I can't abide being
put off in this kind of way,--I must own!--See what I have told
you--you've told _me_ nothing at all. I hope you haven't been only
making me a cat's-paw of? 'Pon my soul, I _hate_ being made a cat's-paw
of, sir!"
"Good heavens, Mr. Titmouse! how can you imagine it? Matters in some
degree connected with one or two former members of your family, are at
this moment the object of some little of our anxiety"----
"Not meaning it rudely, sir--please to tell me at once, plainly, am I to
be the better for anything you're now about, or was that advertisement
all fudge?"
"That may or may not be, sir," answered Mr. Gammon, in the same
imperturbable manner, drawing on his gloves, and rising from his chair.
"In justice to yourself, and other parties concerned"----
"Oh! is anybody to _share_ in it?" exclaimed Titmouse, alarmedly.
"I am sure," said Gammon, smiling, "that you will give us credit for
consulting your best interests, if they should prove to be in any degree
concerned in our present inquiries! We should, in that event, sincerely
desire to advance them. But--it is _really_," looking at his watch,
"upwards of an hour since we quitted your place of business--I fear I
shall get into disgrace with that respectable gentleman, your employer.
Will you favor us with a call at our office to-morrow night, when the
business of the day is over? When do you quit at night?"
"About half-past nine o'clock, sir; but really--to-morrow night!
Couldn't I come to-night, sir?"
"Not to-night, I fear, my dear sir. We have a very important engagement.
Let us say to-morrow night, at a quarter past ten--shall we say that
hour?" inquired Mr. Gammon, with an imperative smile.
"Well, sir, if not before--yes--I'll be with you. But I _must_ say"----
quoth Titmouse, with a sulky disconcerted air.
"Good-day, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Gammon--they were by this time in
Oxford Street again.--"Good-day, my dear sir--good-day--to-morrow night,
as soon after ten as possible--eh? Good-by."
This was all that Mr. Titmouse could get out of Mr. Gammon, who, hailing
a coach off the stand beside them, got in, and it was soon making its
way eastward. What a miserable mixture of doubts, hopes, and fears, had
he left Titmouse! He felt as if he were a squeezed orange; he had told
everything he knew about himself, and got nothing in return out of the
smooth, imperturbable, impenetrable Mr. Gammon, but empty
civilities.--"Lord, Lord!" thought Titmouse, as Mr. Gammon's coach
turned the corner; "what would I give to know half about it that that
gent knows! But Mr. Tag-rag! by Jove! what _will_ he say? It's struck
twelve. I've been more than an hour away--and he gave me ten minutes!
Sha'n't I catch it?"
And he did. Almost the very first person whom he met, on entering the
shop, was his respected employer; who, plucking his watch out of his
fob, and looking furiously at it, motioned the trembling Titmouse to
follow him to the farther end of the long shop, where there happened to
be then no customers.
"Is this your ten minutes, sir, eh?"
"I am sorry"----
"Where may you have been, sir, all this while?"
"With that gentleman, sir, and I really did not know"----
"You didn't know, sir! Who cares what you know, or don't know? _This_,
at any rate, you know--that you ought to have been back fifty-five
minutes ago, sir. You do, sir! Isn't your time my property, sir? Don't I
pay for it, sir? An hour!--in the middle of the day! I've not had such a
thing happen this five years! I'll stop it out of your salary, sir."
Titmouse did not attempt to interrupt him.
"And pray what have you been gossiping about, sir, in this disgraceful
manner?"
"Something that he wanted to say to me, sir."
"You low puppy!--do you suppose I don't see your impertinence? I
_insist_, sir, on knowing what all this gossiping with that fellow has
been about?"
"Then you _won't_ know, sir, that's flat!" replied Titmouse, doggedly;
returning to his usual station behind the counter.
"I _sha'n't_!!" exclaimed Mr. Tag-rag, almost aghast at the presumption
of his inferior.
"No, sir, you _sha'n't_ know a single word about it."
"Sha'n't know a single word about it! Vastly good, sir!!--Do you know
whom you're talking to, sir? Do you really know in whose presence you
are, sir?" inquired Mr. Tag-rag, nearly trembling with rage.
"Mr. Tag-rag, I presume, of the firm of Tag-rag and Co.," replied
Titmouse, looking him full in the face.--One or two of his companions
near him, almost turned pale at the audacity he was displaying.
"And who are _you_, sir, that dare to presume to bandy words with ME,
sir?" inquired Tag-rag, his deeply pitted face having turned quite
white, and his whole body quivering with rage.
"Tittlebat Titmouse, at your service," was the answer, in a glib tone,
and with a sufficiently saucy air; for Titmouse then felt that he had
passed the Rubicon.
"You heard that, I hope?" inquired Tag-rag, with forced calmness, of a
pale-faced young man, the nearest to him.
"Ye--es, sir," was the meekly reluctant answer.
"This day month you leave, sir!" said Mr. Tag-rag, solemnly--as if
conscious that he was passing a sort of sentence of death upon the
presumptuous delinquent.
"Very well, Mr. Tag-rag--anything that pleases you pleases your humble
servant. I _will_ go this day month, and welcome--I've long wished--and
now, p'r'aps," he added significantly--"it's rather convenient than
otherwise"----
"Then you _sha'n't_ leave, sir," said Tag-rag, furiously.
"But I will, sir. You've given me warning; and, if you haven't, now I
give _you_ warning," replied Titmouse; turning, however, very pale, and
experiencing a certain sudden sinking of the heart--for this was a
serious and most unlooked-for event, and for a while put out of his head
all the agitating thoughts of the last few hours. Poor Titmouse had
enough to bear--what with the delicate raillery and banter of his
refined companions for the rest of the day, find the galling tyranny of
Mr. Tag-rag, (who dogged him about all day, setting him about the most
menial and troublesome offices he could, and constantly saying
mortifying things to him before customers,) and the state of miserable
suspense in which Mr. Gammon had thought fit to leave him; I say that
surely all this was enough for him to bear without having to encounter
at night, as he did, on his return to his lodgings, his blustering
landlady, who vowed that if she sold him out and out she would be put
off no longer--and his pertinacious and melancholy tailor, who, with
sallow unshaven face, told him of five children at home, all ill of the
small-pox, and his wife in an hospital--and he _implored_ a payment on
account. This sufferer succeeded in squeezing out of Titmouse seven
shillings on account, and his landlady extorted ten; which staved off a
distress--direful word!--for some week or two longer; and so they left
him in the possession of eight shillings or so, to last till next
quarter-day--six weeks off! He sighed heavily, barred his door, and sat
down opposite his little table, on which was nothing but a solitary thin
candle, and on which his eyes rested unconsciously, till the stench of
it, burning right down into the socket, roused him from his wretched
revery. Then he unlocked his box, and took out his Bible and the papers
which had been produced to Mr. Gammon, and gazed at them with intense
but useless scrutiny. Unable to conjecture what bearing they could have
upon himself or his fortunes, he hastily replaced them in his box, threw
off his clothes, and flung himself on his bed, to pass a far more dismal
night than he had known for years.
He ran the gantlet at Messrs. Tag-rag and Co.'s all Tuesday as he had
done on the day preceding. One should have supposed that when his
companions beheld him persecuted by their common tyrant, whom they all
equally hated, they would have made common cause with their suffering
companion, or at all events given no countenance to his persecution; yet
it was far otherwise. Without stopping to analyze the feeling which
produced it, (and which the moderately reflective reader may easily
analyze for himself if so disposed,) I am grieved to have to say, that
when all the young men saw that Tag-rag would be gratified by their
_cutting_ poor Titmouse, who, with all his little vanities, fooleries,
and even selfishness, had never personally offended or injured any of
them--they did cut him; and, when Tag-rag observed it, his miserable
mind was unspeakably gratified with what they had done: and he spoke to
all of them with unusual blandness; to the sinner, Titmouse, with
augmented bitterness and sternness.
CHAPTER II.
A few minutes after ten o'clock that night, a gentle ringing at the bell
of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap's office, announced the arrival of
poor Titmouse. The door was quickly opened by a very fashionably dressed
clerk, who seemed in the act of quitting for the night.
"Ah--Mr. Titmouse, I presume?" he inquired, with a kind of deference in
his manner to which Titmouse had never been accustomed.
"The same, sir--Tittlebat Titmouse."
"Oh! allow me, sir, to show you in to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap; I
know they're expecting to see you. It's not often they're here so late!
Walk in, sir"---- With this he led the way to an inner room, and opening
a green-baize door in the farther side of it, announced and showed in
Mr. Titmouse, and left him--sufficiently flustered. Three gentlemen were
sitting at a large table, on which he saw, by the strong but
circumscribed light of two shaded candlesticks, were lying a great
number of papers and parchments. The three gentlemen rose when he
entered, Mr. Quirk and Mr. Snap involuntarily starting on first catching
sight of the figure of Titmouse: Mr. Gammon came and shook hands with
him.
"Mr. Titmouse," said he, with a very polite air, "let me introduce you
to Mr. Quirk"--(This was the senior partner, a short, stout elderly
gentleman, dressed in black, with a shining bald crown fringed with
white hair, and sharp black eyes, and who looked very earnestly, nay,
with even a kind of dismay, at him)--"and Mr. Snap"--(This was the
junior partner, having recently been promoted to be such after ten
years' service in the office, as managing clerk: he was about thirty,
particularly well dressed, slight, active, and with a face like a
terrier--_so_ hard, sharp, and wiry!) Of Mr. Gammon himself, I have
already given the reader a slight notion. He appeared altogether a
different style of person from both his partners. He was of most
gentlemanly person and bearing--and at once acute, cautious, and
insinuating--with a certain something about the eye, which had from the
first made Titmouse feel uneasy on looking at him.
"A seat, sir," said Mr. Quirk, rising, and placing a chair for him, on
which he sat down, they resuming theirs.
"You are punctual, Mr. Titmouse!" exclaimed Mr. Gammon, kindly; "more so
than, I fear, you were yesterday, after our long interview, eh? Pray
what did that worthy person, Mr. Rag-bag--or whatever his name is--say
on your return?"
"Say, gents?"--(he tried to clear his throat, for he spoke somewhat more
thickly, and his heart beat more perceptibly than usual)--"Meaning no
offence--I'm ruined by it, and no mistake."
"Ruined! I'm sorry to hear it," interposed Mr. Gammon, with a concerned
air.
"I am, indeed, sir. Such a towering rage as he has been in ever since;
and he's given me warning to go on the 10th of next month." He thought
he observed a faint smile flit over the faces of all three. "He has,
indeed!"
"Dear me, Mr. Titmouse!--Did he allege any reason for dismissing you?"
keenly inquired Mr. Quirk.
"Yes, sir"----
"What might it have been?"
"Stopping out longer than I was allowed, and refusing to tell him what
this gentleman and I had been talking about."
"Don't think that'll do; sure it won't!" briskly exclaimed Mr. Snap; "no
just cause of dismissal that," and he jumped up, whisked down a book
from the shelves behind him, and eagerly turned over the leaves.
"Never mind that now, Mr. Snap," said Mr. Quirk, rather petulantly;
"surely we have other matters to talk about to-night!"
"Asking pardon, sir, but I think it _does_ matter to me, sir,"
interposed Titmouse; "for on the 10th of next month I'm a beggar--being
next door to it _now_."
"Not quite, we trust," said Mr. Gammon, with a benignant smile.
"But Mr. Tag-rag said he'd make me as good as one."
"That's evidence to show malice," again eagerly interjected Mr. Snap,
who was a second time tartly rebuffed by Mr. Quirk; even Mr. Gammon
turning towards him with a surprised--"Really, Mr. Snap!"
"So Mr. Tag-rag said he'd make you a beggar?" inquired Mr. Quirk.
"He vowed he would, sir!--He did, as true as the gospel, sir!"
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Quirk and Mr. Gammon--but such a laugh!--not
careless or hearty, but subdued, and with a dash of deference in it.
"Well--it perhaps _may_ not signify much, by that time;" said Mr. Quirk,
and laughed again, followed by the soft laugh of Mr. Gammon, and a kind
of sharp quick sound, like a bark, from Mr. Snap.
"But, gents, you'll excuse me if I say I think it _does_ signify to
_me_, and a'n't any laughing matter, by any means!" quoth Titmouse,
earnestly, and coloring with anger. "Without being rude, I'd rather come
to business, if there's any to be done, without so much laughing at
one."
"Laughing at you! my dear sir,--no, no!" exclaimed all three in a
breath--"laughing _with_ you," said Mr. Quirk!--"By the time you
mention, you may perhaps be able to laugh at Mr. Rag-bag, and everybody
else, for"----
[--"No use mincing matters?" he whispered, in a low tone, to Mr. Gammon,
who nodded, but in apparently very reluctant acquiescence, and fixed his
eyes earnestly on Titmouse.]
"I really think we are warranted, sir, in preparing you to expect by
that time--that is, you will understand, sir, if our efforts are
successful in your behalf, and if you yield yourself implicitly in all
things to our guidance--_that is absolutely essential_--a prospect--we
say at present, you will observe, _only_ a prospect--of a surprising and
splendid change in your circumstances!" Titmouse began to tremble
violently, his heart beat rapidly, and his hands were bedewed with a
cold moisture.
"I hear, gents," said he, thickly; and he also heard a faint ringing in
his ears.
"It's not impossible, sir, in plain English," continued Mr. Quirk,
himself growing a little excited with the important communication which
trembled on the tip of his tongue, "that you may at no distant time (if
you really turn out to be the person we are in search of) be put into
possession of an estate of somewhere about Ten Thousand a-year"----
The words seemed to have struck Titmouse blind--as he saw nothing for
some moments; then everything appeared to be swimming around him, and he
felt a sort of faintness or sickness stealing over him. They had hardly
been prepared for their communication's affecting their little visitor
so powerfully. Mr. Snap hastened out, and in again, with a glass of
water; and the earnest attentions of the three soon restored Mr.
Titmouse to his senses. It was a good while, however, before he could
appreciate the little conversation which they now and then addressed to
him, or estimate the full importance of the astounding intelligence
which Mr. Quirk had just communicated, "Beg pardon--but may I make free
to ask for a little brandy and cold water, gents? I feel all over in a
kind of tremble," said he, some little time afterwards.
"Yes--by all means, Mr. Titmouse," replied Mr. Quirk--"Mr. Snap, will
you be kind enough to order Betty to bring in a glass of cold brandy and
water from the Jolly Thieves, next door?"--Snap shot out, gave the
order, and returned in a trice. The old woman in a few minutes' time
followed, with a large tumbler of dark brandy and water, quite hot, for
which Mr. Gammon apologized, but Mr. Titmouse said he preferred it
so--and soon addressed himself to the inspiriting mixture. It quickly
manifested its influence, reassuring him wonderfully. As he sat sipping
it, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap being engaged in an earnest
conversation, of which he could not comprehend a word, he had leisure to
look about him, and observed that there was lying before them a large
sheet of paper, at which they all of them often and earnestly looked,
filled with marks, so--
[Illustration:
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]
with writing at the ends of each of them, and round and square figures.
When he saw them all bending over and scrutinizing this mysterious
object, it puzzled him (and many a better head than his has a pedigree
puzzled before) sorely, and he began to suspect it was a sort of
conjuring paper!--
"I hope, gents, that paper's all right--eh?" said he, supported by the
brandy, which he had nearly finished. They turned towards him with a
smile of momentary surprise, and then--
"We hope so--a vast deal depends on it," said Mr. Quirk, looking over
his glasses at Titmouse. Now what _he_ had hinted at, as far as he could
venture to do so, was a thought that glanced across his as yet unsettled
brain, that there might have been invoked more than _mere earthly
assistance_; but he prudently pressed the matter no farther--that was
all Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap's look-out; _he_ had been no party
to anything of the sort, nor would he knowingly. He also observed the
same sheets of paper written all over, which Mr. Gammon had filled up at
his (Titmouse's) room, the night before; and several new, and
old-looking, papers and parchments. Sometimes they addressed questions
to him, but found it somewhat difficult to keep his attention up to
anything that was said to him for the wild visions which were chasing
one another through his heated brain; the passage of which said visions
was not a little accelerated by the large tumbler of brandy and water
which he had just taken.
"Then, in point of fact," said Mr. Quirk, as Messrs. Gammon and Snap
simultaneously sat down, after having been for some time standing poring
over the paper before Mr. Quirk. "This Tittlebat Titmouse's title must
have accrued in 18--. That's the point--eh, Gammon?"
"Precisely so," said Mr. Gammon, calmly.
"To be sure," confidently added Snap; who having devoted himself
exclusively all his life to the sharpest practice of the criminal law,
knew about as much of real property law as a snipe--but it would not
have done to appear ignorant, or taking no part in the matter, in the
presence of the heir-at-law, and the future great client of the House.
"Well, Mr. Titmouse," at length said Mr. Quirk, with a sort of grunt,
laying aside his glasses--"if _you_ turn out to be the Titmouse we have
been speaking of, you are likely, through our immense exertions, to
become one of the luckiest men that ever lived! We may be mistaken, but
it appears to us that we shall by and by be able to put you into
possession of a very fine estate in Yorkshire, worth some £10,000 or
£12,000 a-year at the least!"
"You--don't--say--so!" exclaimed Titmouse, elevating his hands and
opening his eyes with amazement--"Oh, gents, I do believe we're all
dreaming! Is it all true, indeed?"
"It is, Mr. Titmouse--and we are very proud and happy indeed to be the
honored instruments of establishing your rights, my dear sir," said Mr.
Gammon, in a most impressive manner.
"Then all the money that's been spent this ten or twelve years has been
_my_ money, has it?"
"_If_ we are right, it is undoubtedly as you say," answered Mr. Quirk,
giving a quick apprehensive glance at Mr. Gammon.
"Then there'll be a jolly reckoning for some one, shortly--eh? My
stars!"
"My dear Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Gammon, gravely, "you have no more than
a just regard for your own interests. There _will_ be a reckoning, and a
very terrible one ere long, for somebody--but we've a vast deal to go
through, and a vast deal of money to be spent, before we come to discuss
_that_ matter! Only let us have the unspeakable happiness of seeing you
once fairly in possession of your estates, and our office shall know no
rest till you have got all you may be entitled to--even to the
uttermost farthing!"
"Oh, never fear our letting them rest!" said Mr. Quirk, judiciously
accommodating himself to the taste and apprehension of his excited
auditor--"Those that must give up the goose, must give up the giblets
also--ha, ha, ha!" Messrs. Gammon and Snap echoed the laugh, duly
tickled with the joke of the head of the firm.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Titmouse, immensely excited by the conjoint
influence of the brandy, and the news of the night; "capital! capital!
hurrah! Such goings on there will be! You're all of the right sort,
gents, I see! 'Pon my life, law for ever! There's _nothing_ like it!
Let's all shake hands, gents! Come, if you please, all together! all
friends to-night!" And the little fellow grasped each of the three
readily-proffered right hands of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, with
an energy that was likely to make all the high contracting parties to
that quadruple alliance, remember its ratification.
"And is it all a _ready-money_ affair, gents?--or _rent_, and all _that_
kind of thing?" he inquired, after many eloquent expressions of delight.
"Why, almost entirely the latter," answered Mr. Quirk, "except the
accumulations."
"Then, 'pon my soul--I'm a great landlord, am I?"
"Indeed, my dear Mr. Titmouse, you are--(that is, unless we have made a
blunder such as--I will say--our house is not _often_ in the habit of
making)--and have two very fine houses, one in town and the other in the
country."
"Capital! delightful! I'll live in both of them--we'll have _such_
goings on!--And is it _quite_ up to the mark of £10,000 a-year?"
"We really entertain no doubt at present that it is"----
"And such as that I can spend all of it, every year?"
"Certainly--no doubt of it--not the least. The rents are paid with most
exemplary punctuality--at least," added Mr. Gammon, with a captivating,
an irresistible smile, and taking him affectionately by the hand--"at
least they _will_ be, as soon as we have them fairly in _our_
management."
"Oh, _you're_ to get it all in for me, are you?" he inquired briskly.
The three partners bowed, with the most deprecatingly-disinterested air
in the world; intimating that, for _his_ sake, they were ready to take
upon themselves even _that_ troublesome responsibility.
"Capital! couldn't be better! couldn't be better! Ah, ha, ha--you've
catched the goose, and must bring me its eggs. Ah, ha, ha! a touch in
_your_ line, old gent!" said he, slapping Mr. Quirk's knee.
"Ha, ha, ha! excellent! ah, ha, ha!" laughed the three partners at the
wit of their new client. Mr. Titmouse joined them, and snapped his
fingers in the air. Then he added suddenly--
"Lord--by the way--I've just thought of Tag-rag and Company's--I seem as
if I hadn't seen or heard of those gents for Lord knows how long! Only
fancy old Tag-rag making me a beggar on the 10th of next month--ha, ha,
ha!--I sha'n't see _that_ infernal hole any more, anyhow!"
["There!" whispered Mr. Gammon, suddenly and apprehensively, in the ear
of Mr. Quirk, "you hear that? A little wretch! We have been perfectly
insane in going so far already with him! Is not this what I
predicted?"--"I don't care," said Mr. Quirk, stubbornly. "Who first
found it out, Mr. Gammon? and who's to be at the expense and
responsibility? Pshaw! I know what I'm about--_I'll_ make him knuckle
down--never fear me! Caleb Quirk a'n't a man to be trifled with!"]
"_That_," continued Titmouse, snapping his fingers with an air of
defiance--"for Mr. Tag-rag! _That_ for Mother Squallop--Ah, ha, gents!
It won't do to go back to that--eugh!--eh? will it?--you know what I
mean! Fancy Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse--or Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse,
_Esquire_--standing behind"----
The partners looked rather blank at this unexpected sally.
"We would venture to suggest, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Gammon, seriously,
"the _absolute necessity_ there is for everything on your part, and our
parts, to go on as quietly as before, for a little time to come: to be
safe and successful, my dear sir, we must be very--very _secret_."
"Oh, I see, gents! I see; mum--mum's the word, for the present! But, I
_must_ say, if there is any one whom I want to hear of it, sooner than
another, it's"----
"Rag-bag and Co., I suppose! ha, ha, ha!" interrupted Mr. Gammon, his
partners echoing his gentle laugh.
"Ha, ha, ha! Cuss the cats--that's it--ha, ha, ha!" echoed Mr. Titmouse;
who, getting up out of his chair, could not resist capering to and fro,
sticking his hands on his hips, in something of the attitude of a
hornpipe dancer, whistling and humming by turns, and indulging in
various other wild antics.
"And now, gents--excuse me, but, to do a bit of business--when am I to
_begin_ scattering the shiners, eh?" he inquired, interrupting a
low-toned, but somewhat vehement conversation, between the two senior
partners; while Snap sat silently eying him like a terrier a rat coming
within his reach!
"Oh, of course, sir!" replied Mr. Gammon, rather coldly,
"very--considerable--delay is unavoidable. All we have done, as yet, is
to discover that, as far as we are advised, and can judge, you will turn
out to be the right owner; but--as we've already intimated--very
extensive and expensive operations must be immediately commenced, before
you can be put into possession. There are some who won't be persuaded to
_part_ with £10,000 a-year, Mr. Titmouse, for the mere asking!" added
Mr. Gammon, with an anxious and bitter smile.
"The devil there are! _Who_ are they that want to keep me any longer out
of what's my own?--what's justly mine? Eh? I want to know! Haven't they
kept me out long enough?--hang 'em! Put 'em in prison directly--don't
spare 'em--the villains!"
"They'll probably, ere long, find their way in that direction--for how,"
replied Mr. Quirk, "he's ever to make up, poor devil, the mesne
profits"----
"_Mean_ profits?--is that all you call them, gents? 'Pon my life, it's
rogue's money--villain's profits! So don't spare him--d--n him!--he's
robbed the fatherless, which I am, and an orphan. Keep me out of what's
mine, indeed! Curse me if he shall, though!"
"My dear Mr. Titmouse," said Gammon, very gravely, "we are getting on
too fast--dreadfully too fast. It will never do, matters of such immense
importance as these cannot be hurried on, or talked of, in this way"----
"I like that, sir!--I do, by Jove!"--exclaimed Titmouse, scornfully.
"You will really, if you go on in this wild way, Mr. Titmouse, make us
regret the trouble we have taken in the affair, and especially the
promptness with which we have communicated to you the extent of your
_possible_ good fortune."
"Beg pardon, I'm sure, gents, but mean no offence: am monstrous obliged
to you for what you've done for me--but, by Jove, it's taken me rather
a-back, I own, to hear that I'm to be kept so long out of it all! Why
can't you offer him, whoever he is that has my property, a slapping sum
to go out at once? Gents, I'll own to you I'm most uncommon low--never
so low in my life--devilish low! Done up, and yet it seems a'n't to get
what's justly mine! What am I to do in the meanwhile? Consider _that_,
gents!"
"You are rather excited just now, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Quirk,
seriously; "suppose we now break up, and resume our conversation
to-morrow, when we are all in better and calmer trim?"
"No, sir, thanking you all the same; but I think we'd better go on with
it now," replied Titmouse, impetuously. "Do you think I can stoop to go
back to that nasty, beastly shop, and stand behind that odious
counter?--I'd almost as lieve go to the gallows!"
"Our _decided_ opinion, Mr. Titmouse," said Mr. Quirk, emphatically--his
other partners getting graver and graver in their looks--"that is, if
our opinion is worth offering"----
"That, by Jove! remains to be seen," said Titmouse, with a pettish shake
of the head.
"Well, such as it is, we offer it you; and it is, that for many reasons
you must continue, for a little while longer, in your present
situation"----
"What! own Tag-rag for my master--and I worth £10,000 a-year?"
interrupted Titmouse, furiously.
"My dear sir, you've not _got_ it yet," said Mr. Quirk, with a very
bitter smile.
"Do you think you'd have told me what you have, if you weren't sure that
I _should_, though? No, no! you've gone too far, by Jove!--but I shall
burst, I shall! Me to go on as before!--they use me worse and worse
every day. Gents, you'll excuse me--I hope you will; but business is
business, gents--it is; and if you won't do mine, I must look out for
them that will--'pon my soul, I must, and"--If Mr. Titmouse could have
seen, or having seen, appreciated, the looks which the three partners
interchanged, on hearing this absurd, ungrateful, and insolent speech of
his--the expression that flitted across their shrewd faces; that was, of
intense contempt for him, hardly overmastered and concealed by a vivid
perception of their own interest, which was, of course, to _manage_, to
soothe, to conciliate him!
How the reptile propensities of his mean nature had thriven beneath the
sudden sunshine of unexpected prosperity!--See already his selfishness,
truculence, rapacity, in full play!
"So, gents," said he, after a long and keen expostulation with them on
the same subject, "I'm really to go to-morrow morning to Tag-rag and
Co.'s, and go on with the cursed life I led there to-day, all as if
nothing had happened--ha, ha, ha!--I do so like that!"
"In your present humor, Mr. Titmouse, it would be in vain to discuss the
matter," said Mr. Quirk, sternly. "Again I tell you that the course we
have recommended is, in our opinion, the proper one; excuse me if I add,
that you are entirely in our hands--and if I ask you--what _can_ you do
but adopt our advice?"
"Why, hang me if I won't employ somebody else--that's flat! S' elp me,
Heaven, I will! So, good-night, gents; you'll find that Tittlebat
Titmouse isn't to be trifled with!" So saying, Mr. Titmouse clapped his
hat on his head, bounced out of the room, and, no attempt being made to
stop him, he was in the street in a twinkling.
Mr. Gammon gazed at Mr. Quirk with a look, the significance of which the
astounded old gentleman thoroughly understood--'twas compounded of
triumph, reproach, and apprehension.
"Did you ever see such a little beast!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, with an air
of disgust, turning to Mr. Snap.
"Beggar on horseback!" exclaimed Snap, with a bitter sneer.
"It won't do, however," said Mr. Quirk, with a most chagrined and
apprehensive air, "for him to go at large in his present frame of
mind--he may ruin the thing altogether"----
"As good as £500 a-year out of the way of the office," quoth Snap.
"It cannot be helped _now_," said Mr. Gammon, with a sigh of vexation,
turning to Mr. Quirk, and seizing his hat--"he must be managed--so I'll
go after him instantly, and bring him back at all hazards; and we must
really try and do something for him in the meanwhile, to keep him quiet
till the thing's brought a little into train." So out went after
Titmouse, Mr. Gammon, from whose lips dropped persuasion sweeter than
honey;[3] and I should not be surprised if he were to succeed in
bringing back that little stubborn piece of conceited stupidity.
As soon as Mr. Titmouse heard the street door shut after him with a kind
of _bang_, he snapped his fingers once or twice, by way of letting off a
little of the inflammable air that was in him, and muttered, "Pretty
chaps those, upon my soul!" said he, disdainfully. "I'll expose them
all! I'll apply to the lord-mayor--they're a pack of swindlers, they
are! This is the way they treat _me_, who've got a title to £10,000
a-year! To be sure"--He stood still for a moment--and another
moment--and another--and then dismay came quickly over him; for the
thought suddenly occurred to his partially obfuscated intellect--what
_hold_ had he got on Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap?--what _could_ he
do?--or rather, what HAD he done?
Ah--the golden vision of the last few hours was fading away
momentarily, like a dream! Each second of his deep and rapid reflection,
rendered more impetuous his desire and determination to return and make
his peace with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap. By submission for the
present, he could get the whip-hand of them hereafter! He was in the act
of turning round towards the office, when Mr. Gammon gently laid his
hand upon the shoulder of his repentant client.
"Mr. Titmouse! my dear sir," said Mr. Gammon, softly, "what is the
matter with you? How could we so misunderstand each other?"
Titmouse's small cunning was on the _qui vive_, and he saw and followed
up his advantage. "I am going," said he, in a resolute tone, "to speak
to some one else in the morning."
"Ah, to be sure!" replied Mr. Gammon, with a smile of utter
unconcern--"I supposed as much--'tis a matter which of course, however,
signifies nothing to any one--but yourself. You will take any steps, my
dear sir, that occur to you, and act as you may be advised!"
"Monstrous kind of you, 'pon my life! to come and give me such good
advice!" exclaimed Titmouse, with a sneer--but consciously baffled.
"Oh, don't mention it!" said Gammon, coolly; "I came out of pure
good-nature, to assure you that our office, notwithstanding what has
passed, entertains not the slightest personal ill feeling towards you,
in thus throwing off our hands a fearfully expensive, and most harassing
enterprise--which we have feared from the first had been too rashly
undertaken"----
"Hem!" exclaimed Titmouse, involuntarily, once or twice.
"So good-night, Mr. Titmouse--good-night! God bless you! and think
hereafter of all this as a mere idle dream--as far as _we_ are
concerned!" Mr. Gammon, in the act of returning to the door, extended
his hand to Mr. Titmouse, whom he instantly perceived to be melting
rapidly.
"Why, sir," quoth Titmouse, with a mixture of embarrassment and alarm,
"if I thought you all meant the correct thing--hem! I say, the _correct_
thing by me--I shouldn't so much mind a little disappointment for the
time; but you must own, Mr. Gammon, it is very hard being kept out of
one's own so long--honor, now! isn't it?"
"True, very true, Mr. Titmouse. Very hard it is, indeed, to bear, and we
all felt deeply for you, and would have set everything in train"----
"_Would have!_ oh my stars!"----
"Yes, my dear Mr. Titmouse, we _would_ have done it, and believed we
could have brought you through every difficulty--over every obstacle,
prodigious though they are, and almost innumerable."
"Why--you--don't--hardly--quite--mean to say you've given it all
up?--What, already! 'Pon my life! Oh Lord!" exclaimed Titmouse, in
evident trepidation.
Mr. Gammon had triumphed over Mr. Titmouse! whom, nothing loath, he
brought back, in two minutes' time, into the room which Titmouse had
just before so insolently quitted. Mr. Quirk and Mr. Snap had now
_their_ parts to perform in the little scene which they had determined
on enacting. They were in the act of locking up desks and drawers,
evidently on the move, and received Mr. Titmouse with an air of cold
surprise.
"Mr. Titmouse again!" exclaimed Mr. Quirk, taking his gloves out of his
hat. "Back again!--This, sir, is quite an unexpected honor!"
"Leave anything behind?" inquired Mr. Snap, affecting to look about
him--"don't _see_ anything"----
"Oh no, sir! No, sir!" exclaimed Titmouse, with eager anxiety. "This
gent, Mr. Gammon, and I, have made it all up, gents! I'm not angry any
more--not the least, 'pon my soul I'm not--and quite forgive you--and no
mistake!"
"_Angry!_--_Forgive!!_ Mr. Titmouse!" echoed Mr. Quirk, with an air
sternly ironical. "We are under great obligations to you for your
forbearance!"
"Oh, come, gents!" said Titmouse, more and more disturbed, "I _was_ too
warm, I dare say, and--and--I ask your pardon, all of you, gents! I
won't say another word if you'll but buckle to business again--quite
exactly in your own way--because you see"----
"It's growing _very_ late," said Mr. Quirk, coldly, and looking at his
watch; "however, after what you have said, probably at some future time,
when we've _leisure_ to look into the thing"----
Poor Titmouse was near dropping on his knees, in mingled agony and
fright.
"May I be allowed to say," interposed the bland voice of Mr. Gammon,
anxiously addressing himself to Mr. Quirk, "that Mr. Titmouse a few
minutes ago assured me, outside there, that if you, as the head of the
firm, could only be persuaded to permit our house to take up his case
again"----
"I did--I did indeed, gents! so help me----!" interrupted Mr. Titmouse,
eagerly backing with an oath the ready lie of Mr. Gammon.
Mr. Quirk, with a stern countenance, drew his hand across his chin
musingly, and stood silently for a few moments, apparently irresolute.
"Well," said he at length, but very coldly, "since that is so, probably
we may be induced to resume our heavy labors in your behalf; and if you
will favor us with a call to-morrow night, at the same hour, we may
have, by that time, made up our minds as to the course we shall think
fit to adopt."
"Lord, sir, I'll be here as the clock strikes, and as meek as a mouse;
and pray, have it all your own way for the future, gents--do!"--cried
Titmouse, clasping his hands together on his breast.
"Good-night, sir--good-night!" exclaimed the partners,
stiffly--motioning him towards the door.
"Good-night, gents!" said Titmouse, bowing very low, and feeling himself
at the same time being--bowed _out_! As he passed out of the room, he
cast a lingering look at their three frigid faces, as if they were
angels sternly shutting him out from Paradise. What misery was his, as
he walked slowly homeward, with much the same feelings (now that the
fumes of the brandy had somewhat evaporated, and the reaction of
excitement was coming on, aggravated by a recollection of the desperate
check he had received) as those of a sick and troubled man, who,
suddenly roused out of a delicious dream, drops into wretched reality,
as it were out of a fairyland, which, with all its dear innumerable
delights, is melting overhead into thin air--disappearing, _forever_!
Closet Court had never looked so odious to him as it did on his return
from this memorable interview. Dreadfully distressed and harassed, he
flung himself on his bed for a moment, directly he had shut his door,
intending presently to rise and undress; but Sleep, having got him
prostrate, secured her victory. She waved her black wand over him,
and--he awoke not completely till about eight o'clock in the morning. A
second long-drawn sigh was preparing to follow its predecessor, when he
heard the clock strike eight, and sprang off the bed in a fright; for he
ought to have been at the shop an hour before. Dashing a little water
into his face, and scarce staying to wipe it off, he ran down-stairs,
through the court, and along the street, never stopping till he had
found his way into--almost the very arms of the dreaded Mr. Tag-rag;
who, rarely making his appearance till about half-past nine, had, as the
deuce would have it, happened to come down an hour and a half earlier
than usual on that particular morning, the only one out of several
hundreds on which Titmouse had been more than ten minutes beyond his
time.
"Yours ve-ry respectfully, Mr. Titmouse--Thomas Tag-rag!" exclaimed that
personage, with mock solemnity, bowing formally to his astounded and
breathless shopman.
"I--I--beg your pardon, sir; but I wasn't very well, and overslept
myself," stammered Titmouse.
"Ne-ver mind, Mr. Titmouse! ne-ver mind!--it don't much signify, as it
happens," interrupted Mr. Tag-rag, bitterly; "you've just got an hour
and a half to take this piece of silk, with my compliments, to Messrs.
Shuttle and Weaver, in Dirt Street, Spitalfields, and ask them if they
aren't ashamed to send it to a West-end house like mine; and bring back
a better piece instead of it! D' ye _hear_, sir?"
"Yes, sir--but--am I to go before my breakfast, sir?"
"Did I say a word about breakfast, sir? You heard my orders, sir; you
can attend to them or not, Mr. Titmouse, as you please!"
Off trotted Titmouse _instanter_, without his breakfast; and so Tag-rag
gained one object he had had in view. Titmouse found this rather trying:
a four-mile walk before him, with no inconsiderable load under his arm;
having, moreover, had nothing to eat since the preceding evening, when
he had partaken of a delicate repast of thick slices of bread, smeared
slightly over with somewhat high-flavored salt butter, and moistened
with a most astringent decoction of _quasi_ tea-leaves sweetened with
brown sugar, and discolored with sky-blue milk. He had not even a
farthing about him wherewith to buy a penny roll! As he went
disconsolately along, so many doubts and fears buzzed impetuously about
him, that they completely darkened his little soul, and bewildered his
petty understanding. _Ten Thousand a-Year!_--it could never be meant for
the like of _him_! He soon worked himself into a conviction that the
whole thing was infinitely too good to be true; the affair was
desperate; it had been all moonshine; for some cunning purpose or
another, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, had been--ah, here he was
within a few yards of their residence, the scene of last night's tragic
transactions! As he passed Saffron Hill, he paused, looked up towards
the blessed abode,
"Where centred all his hopes and fears,"--
uttered a profound sigh, and passed slowly on towards Smithfield. The
words "_Quirk, Gammon, and Snap_," seemed to be written over every
shop-window which he passed--their images filled his mind's eye. What
could they be at? They had been all very polite and friendly at
first--and of their own seeking: but he had affronted them. How coldly
and proudly they had parted with him over-night, although they had
professed themselves reconciled to him! It was evident that they would
stand no nonsense--they were great lawyers; so he must (if they really
would allow him to see them again) eat humble pie cheerfully till he had
got all that they had to give him. How he dreaded the coming night!
Perhaps they intended civilly to tell him that, since seeing him, they
would have nothing more to do with him; they would get the estate for
themselves, or some one else who would be more manageable! They had
taken care to tell him nothing at all about the nature of his
pretensions to this grand fortune. Oh, how crafty they were--they had
it all their own way!--But what, after all, had he really done? The
estates were his, if they were really in earnest--his and no one's else;
and why should he be kept out of them at their will and pleasure?
Suppose he were to say he would give them all he was entitled to for
£20,000 down, in cash? Oh no; on second thoughts, that would be only two
years' income! But on the other hand--he dared hardly even propose it to
his thoughts--still, suppose it _should_ really all turn out true!
Goodness gracious!--that day two months he might be riding about in his
carriage in the Parks, and poor devils looking on at _him_, as he now
looked on all those who now rode there. There he would be, holding up
his head with the best of them, instead of slaving as he was that
moment, carrying about that cursed bundle--ough! how he shrunk with
disgust as he changed its position, to relieve his aching right arm! Why
was his mouth to be stopped--why might he not tell his shopmates? What
would he not give for the luxury of telling it to the odious Tag-rag? If
he _were_ to do so, Mr. Tag-rag, he was sure, would ask him to dinner
the very next Sunday, at his country house at Clapham!--Ah,
ha!--Thoughts such as these so occupied his mind, that he did not for a
long while observe that he was walking at a rapid rate towards the
Mile-end road, having left Whitechapel church nearly half a mile behind
him! The possible master of £10,000 a-year was nearly dropping with
fatigue, and sudden apprehension of the storm he should have to
encounter when he first saw Mr. Tag-rag after so unduly prolonged an
absence on his errand. He was detained for a cruel length of time at
Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver's; who, not having the exact kind of silk
required by their imperious customer at that moment on their premises,
had some difficulty in obtaining it, after having sent for it to one or
two neighboring manufactories; by which means it came to pass that it
was two o'clock before Titmouse, completely exhausted, had returned to
Tag-rag and Company's. The gentlemen of the shop had finished their
dinners.
"Go up-stairs and get your dinner, sir!" exclaimed Tag-rag, sternly,
after having received Messrs. Shuttle and Weaver's obsequious message of
apologies and hopes.
Titmouse having laid down his heavy bundle on the counter, went
up-stairs hungry enough, and found himself the sole occupant of the long
close-smelling room in which his companions had been recently dining.
His dinner was presently brought to him by a slatternly slipshod
servant-girl. It was in an uncovered basin, which appeared to contain
nothing but the leavings of his companions--a savory intermixture of
cold potatoes, broken meat, (chiefly bits of fat and gristle,) a little
hot water having been thrown over it to make it appear warm and
fresh--(faugh!) His plate (with a small pinch of salt upon it) had not
been cleaned after its recent use, but evidently only hastily smeared
over with a greasy towel, as also seemed his knife and fork, which, in
their disgusting state, he was fain to put up with--the table-cloth on
which he might have wiped them, having been removed. A hunch of bread
that seemed to have been tossing about in the pan for days, and half a
pint of turbid table-beer, completed the fare set before him; opposite
which he sat for some minutes, too much occupied with his reflections to
commence his repast. He was in the act of scooping out of the basin some
of its inviting contents, when--"Titmouse!" exclaimed the voice of one
of his shopmates, peering in at him through the half-opened door, "Mr.
Tag-rag wants you! He says you've had plenty of time to finish your
dinner!"
"Oh, tell him, then, I'm only just beginning my dinner--eugh! such as it
is," replied Titmouse, sulkily.
In a few minutes' time Mr. Tag-rag himself entered the room, stuttering
with fury--"How much longer, sir, may it be your pleasure to spend over
your dinner, eh?"
"Not another moment, sir," answered Titmouse, looking with unaffected
loathing and disgust at the savory victuals before him; "if you'll only
allow me a few minutes to go home and buy a penny roll instead of all
this"----
"Ve--ry good, sir! Ve--ry parti--cu--larly good, Mr. Titmouse," replied
Tag-rag, with ill-subdued rage; "anything else that I can make a
_leetle_ memorandum of--against the day of--your leaving us?"
This hint of twofold terror, _i. e._ of withholding on the ground of
misconduct the wretched balance of salary which might be then due to
him, and of also giving him a damning character--dispelled the small
remains of Titmouse's appetite, and he rose to return to the shop,
involuntarily clutching his fist as he brushed close past the tyrant
Tag-rag on the stairs, whom he would have been delighted to pitch down
head-foremost. If he _had_ done so, none of his fellow-slaves below, in
spite of their present sycophancy towards Tag-rag, would have shown any
particular alacrity in picking up their common oppressor. Poor Tittlebat
resumed his old situation behind the counter; but how different his
present, from his former air and manner! With his pen occasionally
peeping pertly out of his bushy hair over his right ear, and his
yard-measure in his hand, no one, till the previous Monday morning, had
been more cheerful, smirking, and nimble than Tittlebat Titmouse: alas,
how chopfallen now! None of his companions could make him out, or guess
what was in the wind; so they very justly concluded that he had been
doing something dreadfully disgraceful, the extent of which was known to
Tag-rag and himself alone. Their jeers and banter were giving place to
cold distrustful looks, which were far more trying to bear. How he
longed to be able to burst upon their astounded minds with the pent-up
intelligence that was silently racking and splitting his little bosom!
But if he did--the terrible firm of Quirk, Gammon, and Snap--Oh! the
very thought of them glued his lips together. There was _one_, however,
of whom he might surely make a confidant--the excellent Huckaback, with
whom he had had no opportunity of communicating since Sunday night. That
gentleman was as close a prisoner at the establishment of DIAPER and
SARSENET, in Tottenham-court Road, as Titmouse at Messrs. Tag-rag's, of
which said establishment he was, by the way, quite as great an ornament
as Titmouse of Messrs. Tag-rag's. They were of about the same height,
and equals in vulgar puppyism of manners, dress, and appearance; but
Titmouse was certainly the better-looking. With equal conceit apparent
in their faces, that of Huckaback, square, flat, and sallow, had an
expression of ineffable impudence, made a lady shudder, and a gentleman
feel a tingling sensation in his right toe. About his small black eyes
there was a glimmer of low cunning;--but he is not of sufficient
importance to be painted any further. When Titmouse left the shop that
night, a little after nine, he hurried to his lodgings, to make himself
as imposing in his appearance before Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, as
his time and means would admit of. Behold, on a table lay a letter from
Huckaback. It was written in a flourishing mercantile hand; and here is
a _verbatim_ copy of it:
"DEAR TIT,
"Hope you are well, which is what I can only middling say in
respect of me. Such a row with my governors as I have had to-day! I
thought that as I had been in the House near upon Eighteen Months
at £25 per annum, I might nat'rally ask for £30 a-year (which is
what my Predecessor had) when, would you believe it, Mr. Sharpeye
(who is going to be taken in as a Partner,) to whom I named the
thing, ris up in rage against me, and I were had up into the
counting-house, where both the governors was, and they gave it me
in such a way that you never saw nor heard of; but it wasn't all on
their own side, as you know me too well to think of. You would have
thought I had been a-going to rob the house. They said I was most
oudacious, and all that, and ungrateful, and what would I have
next? Mr. Diaper said times was come to such a pitch!! since when
he was first in the business, for salaries, says he, is ris to
double, and not half the work done that was, and no
gratitude--(cursed old curmudgeon!) He said if I left them just
now, I might whistle for a character, except one that I should not
like; but if he don't mind I'll give him a touch of law about
that--which brings me to what happened to-day with _our_ lawyers,
Titty, the people at Saffron Hill, whom I thought I would call in
on to-day, being near the neighborhood with some light goods, to
see how affairs was getting on, and stir them up a bit"--
This almost took Titmouse's breath away----
--"feeling most _interested_ on your account, as you know, dear
Tit, I do. I said I wanted to speak to one of the gentlemen on
business of wital importance; whereat I was quickly shown into a
room where two gents was sitting. Having put down my parcel for a
minute on the table, I said I was a very partic'lar friend of
yours, and had called in to see how things went on about the
advertisement; whereat you never saw in your life how struck they
looked, and stared at one another in speechless silence, till they
said to me, what concerned me about the business? or something of
that nature, but in such a way that _ris_ a _rage_ in me directly,
all for your sake, (for I did not like the looks of things;) and
says I, I said, we would let them know we were not to be
_gammoned_; whereat up rose the youngest of the two, and ringing
the bell, he says to a tight-laced young gentleman with a pen
behind his ear, 'Show this fellow to the door,' which I was at
once; but, in doing so, let out a little of my mind to them.
They're no better than they should be, you see if they are; but
when we touch the property, we'll show them who is their masters,
which consoles me. Good-by, keep your sperrits up, and I will call
and tell you more about it on Sunday. So farewell (I write this at
Mr. Sharpeye's desk, who is coming down from dinner directly, the
beast!)--Your true friend,
"R. HUCKABACK.
"P. S.--Met a young Jew last night with a lot of prime cigars, and
(knowing he _must_ have stole them--betwixt you, and I, and the
Post--they looked so good at the price,) I bought one shilling's
worth for me, and two shillings' worth for you, your salary being
higher, and to say nothing of your chances."
All that part of the foregoing letter which related to its gifted
writer's interview with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, Titmouse read
in a kind of spasm--he could not draw a breath, and felt a choking
sensation coming over him. After a while, "I may spare myself," thought
he, "the trouble of rigging out--Huckaback has done my business for me
with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap!--Mine will only be a walk in
vain!" And this cursed call of Huckaback's, too, to have happened after
what had occurred last night between Titmouse and them!! and so urgently
as he had been enjoined to keep the matter to himself! Of course,
Huckaback would seem to have been sent by him; seeing he appeared to
have assumed the hectoring tone which Titmouse had tried so vainly
over-night, and now so bitterly repented of; and he had no doubt grossly
insulted the arbiters of Titmouse's destiny, (for he knew Huckaback's
impudence)--he had even said that he (Titmouse) would not be GAMMONED by
them! But time was pressing--the experiment must be made; and with a
beating heart he scrambled into a change of clothes--bottling up his
wrath against the unconscious Huckaback till he should see that worthy.
In a miserable state of mind he set off soon after for Saffron Hill at a
quick pace, which soon became a trot, and often sharpened into a
downright run. He saw, heard, and thought of nothing, as he hurried
along Oxford Street and Holborn, but Quirk, Gammon, Snap, and Huckaback,
and the reception which the last-mentioned gentleman might have secured
for him--if, indeed, he was to be received at all. The magical words,
_Ten Thousand a-year_, had not disappeared from the field of his
troubled vision; but how faintly and dimly they shone!--like the
Pleiades coldly glistening through intervening mists far off--oh! at
what a stupendous, immeasurable, and hopeless distance! Imagine those
stars gazed at by the anguished and despairing eyes of the bereaved
lover, madly believing one of them to contain HER who has just departed
from his arms, and from this world, and you may form a notion of the
agonizing feelings--the absorbed contemplation of one dear, dazzling,
but distant object, experienced on this occasion by Mr. Titmouse. No,
no; I don't mean seriously to pretend that so grand a thought as this
_could_ be entertained by his little optics intellectual; you might as
well suppose the tiny eye of a black beetle to be scanning the vague,
fanciful, and mysterious figure and proportions of Orion, or a kangaroo
to be perusing and pondering over the immortal _Principia_. I repeat,
that I have no desire of the sort, and am determined not again foolishly
to attempt fine writing, which I now perceive to be entirely out of my
line. In language more befitting me and my subject, I may be allowed to
say that there is no getting the contents of a quart into a pint pot;
that Titmouse's mind was a half-pint--and it was brim-full. All the
while that I have been going on thus, however, Titmouse was hurrying
down Holborn at a rattling rate. When at length he had reached Saffron
Hill, he was in a bath of perspiration. His face was quite red; he
breathed hard; his heart beat violently; he had got a stitch in his
side; and he could not get his gloves on his hot and swollen hands. He
stood for a moment with his hat off, wiping his reeking forehead, and
endeavoring to recover himself a little, before entering the dreaded
presence to which he had been hastening. He even fancied for a moment
that his eyes gave out sparks of light. While thus pausing, St. Andrew's
Church struck ten, half electrifying Titmouse, who bolted up Saffron
Hill, and was soon standing opposite the door. How the sight of it smote
him, as it reminded him of the way in which, on the preceding night, he
had bounced out of it! But that could not now be helped; so _ring_ went
the bell; as softly, however, as he could; for he recollected that it
was a very loud bell, and he did not wish to offend. He stood for some
time, and nobody answered. He waited for nearly two minutes, and
trembled, assailed by a thousand vague fears. He might not, however,
have rung loudly enough--so--again, a little louder, did he venture to
ring. Again he waited. There seemed something threatening in the great
brass plate on the door, out of which "QUIRK, GAMMON, AND SNAP" appeared
to look at him ominously. While he thought of it, by the way, there was
something very serious and stern in all their faces--he wondered that he
had not noticed it before. What a drunken beast he had been to go on in
their presence as he had! thought he; then Huckaback's image flitted
across his disturbed fancy. "Ah!" thought he, "that's the thing!--that's
it, depend upon it: this door will never be opened to _me_ again--he's
done for me!" He breathed faster, clinched his fist, and involuntarily
raised it in a menacing way, when he heard himself addressed--"Oh! dear
me, sir, I _hope_ I haven't kept you waiting," said the old woman whom
he had before seen, fumbling in her pocket for the door-key. She had
been evidently out shopping, having a plate in her left hand, over which
her apron was partially thrown. "Hope you've not been ringing long,
sir!"
"Oh dear! no ma'am," replied Titmouse, with anxious civility, and a
truly miserable smile--"Afraid I may have kept _them_ waiting," he
added, almost dreading to hear the answer.
"Oh no, sir, not at all--they've all been gone since a little after
nine; but there's a letter I was to give you!" She opened the door;
Titmouse nearly dropping with fright. "I'll get it for you, sir--let me
see, where did I put it?--Oh, in the clerk's room, I think." Titmouse
followed her in. "Dear me--where can it be?" she continued, peering
about, and then snuffing the long wick of the candle, which she had left
burning for the last quarter of an hour, during her absence. "I _hope_
none of the clerks has put it away in mistake! Well, it isn't _here_,
anyhow."
"Perhaps, ma'am, it's in their _own_ room," suggested Titmouse, in a
faint tone.
"Oh, p'r'aps it is!" she replied. "We'll go and see"--and she led the
way, followed closely by Titmouse, who caught his breath spasmodically
as he passed the green-baize door. Yes, there was the room--the scene of
last night was transacted there, and came crowding over his
recollection--there was the green-shaded candlestick--the table covered
with papers--an arm-chair near it, in which, probably, Mr. Quirk had
been sitting only an hour before to write the letter they were now in
quest of, and which might be to forbid him their presence forever! How
dreary and deserted the room looked, thought he as he peered about it in
search of the dreaded letter!
"Oh, here it is!--well, I never!--who could have put it here, now? I'm
sure I didn't. Let me see--it was, no doubt"--said the old woman,
holding the letter in one hand and putting the other to her head.
"Never mind, ma'am," said Titmouse, stretching his hand towards
her--"now we've got it, it don't much signify." She gave it to him.
"Seem _particularly_ anxious for me to get it--did they, ma'am?" he
inquired, with a strong effort to appear unconcerned--the dreaded letter
quite quivering, the while, in his fingers.
"No, sir--Mr. Quirk only said I was to give it you when you called.
B'lieve they sent it to you, but the clerk said he couldn't find your
place out; by the way, (excuse me, sir,) but yours _is_ a funny name!
How I heard 'em laughing at it, to be sure! What makes people give such
queer names? Would you like to read it here, sir?--you're welcome."
"No, thank you, ma'am--it's of not the _least_ consequence," he replied,
with a desperate air; and tossing it with attempted carelessness into
his hat, which he put on his head, he very civilly wished her
good-night, and departed--very nearly inclined to sickness, or
faintness, or something of the sort, which the fresh air might perhaps
dispel. He quickly espied a lamp at a corner, which promised to afford
him an uninterrupted opportunity of inspecting his letter. He took it
out of his hat. It was addressed--simply, "Mr. Titmouse, _Cocking_
Court, Oxford Street," (which accounted, perhaps, for the clerk's having
been unable to find it;) and having been opened with trembling
eagerness, thus it read:--
"Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, present their compliments to Mr.
Titmouse, and are anxious to save him the trouble of his intended
visit this evening.
"They exceedingly regret that obstacles (which it is to be hoped,
however, may not prove _ultimately_ insurmountable) exist in the
way of their prosecuting their intended inquiries on behalf of Mr.
Titmouse.
"Since their last night's interview with him, circumstances, which
they could not have foreseen, and over which they have no control,
have occurred, which render it unnecessary for Mr. T. to give
himself any more anxiety in the affair--at least, not until he
shall have heard from Messrs. Q. G. and S.
"If anything of importance _should_ hereafter transpire, it is not
improbable that Mr. T. may hear from them.
"They were favored, this afternoon, with a visit from Mr. T.'s
friend--a Mr. Hucklebottom."
"_Saffron Hill, Wednesday Evening, 12th July 18--._"
When poor Titmouse had finished reading over this vague, frigid, and
disheartening note a second time, a convulsive sob or two pierced his
bosom, indicative of its being indeed swollen with sorrow; and at
length, overcome by his feelings, he cried bitterly--not checked even by
the occasional exclamations of one or two passers-by. He could not at
all control himself. He felt as if he could have almost relieved
himself, by banging his head against the wall! A tumultuous feeling of
mingled grief and despair prevented his thoughts, for a long while, from
settling on any one idea or object. At length, when the violence of the
storm had somewhat abated, on concluding a third perusal of the
death-warrant to all his hopes, which he held in his hand, his eye lit
upon the strange word which was intended to designate his friend
Huckaback; and it instantly changed both the kind of his feelings, and
the current in which they had been rushing. Grief became rage; and the
stream foamed in quite a new direction--namely, towards Huckaback. That
accursed fellow he considered to be the sole cause of the direful
disaster which had befallen him. He utterly lost sight of one
circumstance, which one might have imagined likely to have occurred to
his thoughts at such a time--viz. his own offensive and insolent
behavior over-night to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap. Yet so it
was:--yes, upon the devoted (but unconscious) head of Huckaback, was the
lightning rage of Tittlebat Titmouse doomed to descend. The fire that
was thus quickly kindled within, soon dried up the source of his tears.
He crammed the letter into his pocket, and started off at once in the
direction of Leicester Square, breathing rage at every step--_viresque
acquirens eundo_. His hands kept convulsively clinching together as he
pelted along. Hotter and hotter became his rage as he neared the
residence of Huckaback. When he had reached it, he sprang up-stairs;
knocked at his _quondam_ friend's door; and on the instant of its
being--doubtless somewhat surprisedly--opened by Huckaback, who was
undressing, Titmouse sprang towards him, let fly a goodly number of
violent blows upon his face and breast--and down fell Huckaback upon the
bed behind him, insensible, and bleeding profusely from his nose.
"There! there!"--gasped Titmouse, breathless and exhausted, discharging
a volley of oaths and opprobrious epithets at the victim of his fury.
"Do it again! You will, won't you? _You'll_ go--and meddle again in
other people's--you---- cu-cu-cursed officious"--but his rage was
spent--the paroxysm was over; the silent and bleeding figure of
Huckaback was before his eyes; and he gazed at him, terror-stricken.
What had he done! He sank down on the bed beside Huckaback--then started
up, wringing his hands, and staring at him in an ecstasy of remorse and
fright. It was rather singular that the noise of such an assault should
have roused no one to inquire into it; but so it was. Frightened almost
out of his bewildered senses, he closed and bolted the door; and
addressed himself, as well as he was able, to the recovering of
Huckaback. After propping him up, and splashing cold water into his
face, Titmouse at length discovered symptoms of restoration to
consciousness, which he anxiously endeavored to accelerate, by putting
to the lips of the slowly-reviving victim of his violence some cold
water, in a tea-cup. He swallowed a little; and soon afterwards, opening
his eyes, stared on Titmouse with a dull eye and bewildered air.
"What's been the matter?" at length he faintly inquired.
"Oh, Hucky! so glad to hear you speak again. It's I--I--Titty! I did it!
Strike me, Hucky, as soon as you're well enough! Do--kick me--anything
you choose! I won't hinder you!" cried Titmouse, sinking on his knees,
and clasping his hands together, as he perceived Huckaback rapidly
reviving.
"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated that gentleman, with a wondering
air, raising his hand to his nose, from which the blood was still
trickling. The fact is, that he had lost his senses, probably from the
suddenness, rather than the violence of the injuries which he had
received.
"I did it all--yes, I did!" continued Titmouse, gazing on him with a
look of agony and remorse.
"Why, I can't be awake--I can't!" said Huckaback, rubbing his eyes, and
then staring at his wet and blood-stained shirt-front and hands.
"Oh yes, you are--you are!" groaned Titmouse; "and I'm going _mad_ as
fast as I can! Do what you like to me! Kick me if you please! Call in a
constable! Send me to jail! Say I came to rob you--anything--blow me if
I care what becomes of me!"
"Why, what _does_ all this jabber mean, Titmouse?" inquired Huckaback,
sternly, and apparently meditating reprisals.
"Oh, yes, I see! Now you _are_ going to give it me! but I won't stir. So
hit away, Hucky."
"Why--are you mad?" inquired Huckaback, grasping him by the collar
rather roughly.
"Yes, quite! Mad!--ruined!--gone to the devil all at once!"
"And what if you are? What did it matter to _me_? What brought you
here?" continued Huckaback, in a tone of increasing vehemence. "What
have I done to offend you? How _dare_ you come _here_? And at this time
of night, too? Eh?"
"What, indeed! Oh lud, oh lud, oh lud! Kick me, I say--strike me! You'll
do me good, and bring me to my senses. _Me_ to do all this to you! And
we've been such precious good friends always. I'm a brute, Hucky--I've
been mad, stark mad, Hucky--and that's all I can say!"
Huckaback stared at him more and more; and began at length to suspect
how matters stood--namely, that the Sunday's incident had turned
Titmouse's head--he having also, no doubt, heard some desperate bad news
during the day, smashing all his hopes. A mixture of emotions kept
Huckaback silent.
Astonishment--apprehension--doubt--pride--pique--resentment. He had been
_struck_--his blood had been drawn--by the man there before him on his
knees, formerly his friend; now, he supposed, a madman.
"Why, curse me, Titmouse, if I can make up my mind what to do to you!"
he exclaimed, "I--I suppose you are going mad, or gone mad, and I must
forgive you. But get away with you--out with you, or--or--I'll call
in"----
"Forgive me--forgive me, dear Hucky! Don't send me away--I shall go and
drown myself if you do."
"What the d--l do I care if you do? You'd much better have gone and done
it before you came here. Nay, be off and do it _now_, instead of
blubbering here in this way."
"Go on! go on!--it's doing me good--the worse the better!" sobbed
Titmouse.
"Come, come," said Huckaback, roughly, "none of this noise here. I'm
tired of it!"
"But, pray, don't send me away from you. I shall go straight to the
devil if you do! I've no friend but you, Hucky. Yet I've been such a
villain to you!--But it quite put the devil into me, when all of a
sudden I found it was _you_."
"Me!--Why, what _are_ you after?" interrupted Huckaback, with an air of
angry wonder.
"Oh dear, dear!" groaned Titmouse; "if I've been a brute to you, which
is quite true, _you've_ been the _ruin_ of me, clean! I'm clean done
for, Huck. Cleaned out! You've done my business for me; knocked it all
on the head!--I sha'n't never hear any more of it--they've said as much
in their letter--they say you called to-day"----
Huckaback now began to have a glimmering notion of his having been, in
some considerable degree, connected with the mischief of the day--an
unconscious agent in it. He audibly drew in his breath, as it were, as
he more and more distinctly recollected his visit to Messrs. Quirk,
Gammon, and Snap; and adverted more particularly to his _threats_,
uttered, too, in Titmouse's name, and as if by his authority. Whew! here
was a kettle of fish.
Now, strange and unaccountable as, at first thought, it may appear, the
very circumstance which one should have thought calculated to assuage
his resentment against Titmouse--namely, that he had really _injured_
Titmouse most seriously, (if not indeed irreparably,) and so _provoked_
the drubbing which had just been administered to him--had quite the
contrary effect. Paradoxical as it may seem, matter of clear mitigation
was at once converted into matter of aggravation. Were the feelings
which Huckaback then experienced, akin to that which often produces
hatred of a person whom one has injured? May it be thus accounted for?
That there is a secret satisfaction in the mere consciousness of being a
sufferer--a martyr--and that, too, in the presence of a person whom one
perceives to be aware that he has wantonly injured one; that one's
bruised spirit is soothed by the sight of his remorse--by the
consciousness that he is punishing himself infinitely more severely than
_we_ could punish him; and of the claim one has obtained to the
_sympathy_ of everybody who sees, or may hear of one's sufferings, (that
rich and grateful balm to injured feeling.) But when, as in the case of
Huckaback, feelings of this description (in a coarse and small way, to
be sure, according to his kind) were suddenly encountered by a
consciousness of his having _deserved_ his sufferings; when the martyr
felt himself quickly sinking into the culprit and offender; when, I say,
Huckaback felt an involuntary consciousness that the gross indignities
which Titmouse had just inflicted on him, had been justified by the
provocation--nay, had been far less than his mischievous and impudent
interference had deserved;--and when feelings of this sort, moreover,
were sharpened by a certain tingling sense of physical pain from the
blows which he had received--the result was, that the sleeping lion of
Huckaback's courage was very nearly awakening.
"_I've half a mind, Titmouse_"--said Huckaback, knitting his brows,
fixing his eyes, and appearing inclined to raise his arm. There was an
ominous pause for a moment or two, during which Titmouse's feelings also
underwent a slight alteration. His allusion to Huckaback's ruinous
insult to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, unconsciously converted his
remorse into rage, which it rather, perhaps, resuscitated. Titmouse rose
from his knees. "Ah!" said he, in quite an altered tone, "you _may_ look
fierce! you may!--you'd better strike me, Huckaback--do! Finish the
mischief you've begun this day! Hit away--you're quite safe"--and he
secretly prepared himself for the mischief which--did not come. "You
_have_ ruined me! you have, Huckaback!" he continued with increasing
vehemence; "and I shall be cutting my throat--nay," striking his fist on
the table, "I will!"
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Huckaback, apprehensively. "No, Titmouse,
don't--don't think of it; it will all come right yet, depend on't; you
see if it don't!"
"Oh, no, it's all done for--it's all up with me!"
"But _what's_ been done?--let us hear," said Huckaback, as he passed a
wet towel to and fro over his ensanguined features. It was by this time
clear that the storm which had for some time given out only a few faint
fitful flashes or flickerings in the distance, had passed away.
Titmouse, with many grievous sighs, took out the letter which had
produced the paroxysms I have been describing, and read it aloud. "And
only see how they've spelled your name, Huckaback--look!" he added,
handing his friend the letter.
"How _partic'lar_ vulgar!" exclaimed Huckaback, with a contemptuous air,
which, overspreading his features, half-closed as was his left eye, and
swollen as were his cheek and nose, would have made him a queer object
to one who had leisure to observe such matters. "And so _this_ is all
they say of _me_," he continued. "How do you come to know that I've been
doing you mischief? All I did was just to look in, as respectful as
possible, to ask how you was, and they very civilly told me you was very
well, and we parted"----
"Nay, now, that's a lie, Huckaback, and you know it!" interrupted
Titmouse.
"It's true, so help me----!" vehemently asseverated Huckaback.
"Why, perhaps you'll deny that you wrote and told me all you said,"
interrupted Titmouse, indignantly, feeling in his pocket for Huckaback's
letter, which that worthy had at the moment quite forgotten having sent,
and on being reminded of it, he certainly seemed rather nonplussed.
"Oh--ay, if you mean _that_--hem!"--he stammered.
"Come, you _know_ you're a liar, Huck--but it's no good now: liar or no
liar, it's all over."
"The pot and kettle, anyhow, Tit, as far as that goes--hem!--but let's
spell over this letter; we haven't studied it yet; I'm a hand, rather,
at getting at what's said in a letter!--Come"--and they drew their
chairs together, Huckaback reading over the letter slowly, alone;
Titmouse's eyes travelling incessantly from his friend's countenance to
the letter, and so back again, to gather what might be the effect of its
perusal.
"There's a glimpse of daylight yet, Titty!" said Huckaback, as he
concluded reading it.
"No! But is there really? Do tell me, Hucky"----
"Why, first and foremost, how uncommon polite they are, (except that
they haven't manners enough to spell my name right)"----
"Really--and so they are!" exclaimed Titmouse, rather elatedly.
"And then, you see, there's another thing--if they'd meant to give the
thing the go-by altogether, what could have been easier than to say
so?--but they haven't said anything of the sort, so they don't _mean_ to
give it all up!"
"Lord, Huck! what would I give for such a head as yours! What you say is
quite true," said Titmouse, still more cheerfully.
"To be sure, they do say there's an _obstacle_--an obstacle, you
see--nay, it's obstacles, which is several, and that"---- Titmouse's
face fell.
"But they say again, that it's--it's--curse their big words--they say
it's--to be got over in time."
"Well--that's something, isn't it?"
"To be sure it is; and a'n't anything better than nothing? But then,
again, here's a stone in the other pocket--they say there's a
_circumstance_!--don't you hate circumstances, Titty?--I do."
"So do I!--What does it mean? I've often heard--isn't it a _thing_? And
that may be--anything."
"Oh, there's a great dif--hem! And they go on to say it's happened since
you was there"----
"Curse me, then, if that don't mean _you_, Huckaback!" interrupted
Titmouse, with returning anger.
"No, that can't be it; they said they'd no control over the
circumstance;--now they _had_ over me; for they ordered me to the door,
and I went; a'n't that so, Titty?--Lord, how my eye _does_ smart, to be
sure!"
"And don't I smart all over, inside and out, if it comes to that?"
inquired Titmouse, dolefully.
"There's nothing particular in the rest of the letter--only uncommon
civil, and saying if anything turns up you shall hear."
"_I_ could make that out myself--so there's nothing in that"--said
Titmouse, quickly.
"Well--if it _is_ all over--what a pity! Such things as we could have
done, Titty, if we'd got the thing--eh?"
Titmouse groaned at this glimpse of the heaven he seemed shut out of
forever.
"Can't you find anything--nothing at all comfortable-like, in the
letter?" he inquired with a deep sigh.
Huckaback again took up the letter and spelled it over.
"Well," said he, striving to give himself an appearance of thinking,
"there's something in it that, after all, I don't seem quite to get to
the bottom of--they've seemingly taken a deal of pains with it!"
[And undoubtedly it _was_ a document which had been pretty well
considered by its framers before being sent out; though, probably, they
had hardly anticipated its being so soon afterwards subjected to the
scrutiny of such acute intellects as were now engaged upon it.]
"And then, again, you know they're lawyers; and do _they_ ever write
anything that hasn't got more in it than anybody can find out? These
gents that wrote this, they're a trick too keen for the thieves
even--and how can _we_--hem!--but I wonder if that fat, old, bald-headed
gent, with sharp eyes, was Mr. Quirk"----
"To be sure it was," interrupted Titmouse, with a half shudder.
"Was it? Well, then, I'd advise Old Nick to look sharp before he tackles
that old gent, that's all!"
"Give me Mr. Gammon for my money," said Titmouse, sighing, "such an
_uncommon_ gentlemanlike gent--he's quite taken to me"----
"Ah, that, I suppose, was him with the black velvet waistcoat, and
pretty white hands! But _he_ can look stern, too, Tit! You should have
seen him ring, when--hem!--But what was I saying about the letter? Don't
you see they say they'll be sure to write if anything turns up?"
"So they do, to be sure! Well--I'd forgot that!" interrupted Titmouse,
brightening up.
"Then, isn't there their advertisement in the _Flash_? They hadn't their
eye on anything when they put it there, I dare say!--They can't get out
of _that_, anyhow!"
"I begin to feel all of a sweat, Hucky; I'm sure there's something in
the wind yet!" said Titmouse, drawing nearer still to his comforter.
"And more than that--would they have said half they did to me last
night"----
"Eh! hollo, by the way! I've not heard of what went on last night! So
you went to 'em? Well--tell us all that happened--and nothing but the
truth, be _sure_ you don't; come, Titty!" said Huckaback, snuffing the
candle, and then turning eagerly to his companion.
"Well--they'd such a number of queer-looking papers before them, some
with old German-text writing, and others with zigzag marks--and they
were so uncommon polite--they all three got up as I went in, and made me
bows, one after the other, and said, 'Yours most obediently, Mr.
Titmouse,' and a great many more such things."
"Well--and then?"
"Why, Hucky, so help me----! and 'pon my soul, that old gent, Mr. Quirk,
told me"--Titmouse's voice trembled at the recollection--"he says, 'Sir,
you're the real owner of Ten Thousand a-year, and no mistake!'"
"Lawks!" ejaculated Huckaback, opening wider and wider his eyes and ears
as his friend went on.
"'And a title--a _lord_, or something of that sort--and you've a great
many country seats; and there's been £10,000 a-year saving up for you
ever since you was born--and heaps of interest besides!'--'pon my soul
he did!"
"Lord, Tit! you take my breath away," gasped Huckaback, his eyes fixed
intently on his friend's face.
"Yes; and they said I might marry the most beautifulest woman that ever
my eyes saw, for the asking."
"You'll forget poor Bob Huckaback, Tit!" murmured his friend,
despondingly.
"Not I, Huckaback--if I get my rights, and you know how to behave
yourself!"
"Have you been to Tag-rag's to-day, after hearing all this?"
[The thermometer seemed to have been here plunged out of hot water into
cold--Titmouse was down at zero in a trice.]
"Oh!--that's it! 'Tis all gone again! What a fool I am! We've clean
forgot this cursed letter--and that leads me to the end of what took
place last night. That cursed shop was what we split on!"
"Split on _the shop_! eh? What's the meaning of that?" inquired
Huckaback, with eager anxiety.
"Why, that's the thing," continued Titmouse, in a faltering tone, and
with a depressed look--"That was what I wanted to know myself; for they
said I'd better go back!! So I said, 'Gents,' said I, 'I'll be---- if
I'll go back to the shop any more;' and I snapped my fingers at
them--so! (for you know what a chap I am when my blood's up.) And they
all turned gashly pale--they did, upon my life--you never saw anything
like it! And one of them said then, in a humble way, 'Wouldn't I please
to go back to the shop, just for a day or two, till things is got to
rights a bit.' 'Not a day nor a minute!' says I, in an immense rage. 'We
think you'd better, really,' said they. 'Then,' says I, 'if that's your
plan, curse me if I won't cut with you all, and I'll employ some one
else!' and--would you believe me?--out I went, bang! into the street!!"
"You _did_, Tit!!" echoed Huckaback, aghast.
"They shouldn't have given me so much brandy and water as they did; I
didn't well know what I was about, what with the news and the spirits!"
"And you went into the street?" inquired Huckaback, with a kind of
horror.
"I did, by Jove, Hucky!"
"They'd given you the sperrits to see what kind of chap you'd be if you
got the property--only to try you, depend on it!"
"Lord! I--I dare say they did!" exclaimed Titmouse, elevating his head
with sudden amazement, totally forgetting that same brandy and water he
had asked for--"and me never to think of it at the time."
"Now are you quite sure you wasn't in a _dream_ last night, all the
while?"
"Oh, dear, I wish I had been--I do, indeed, Hucky!"
"Well--you went into the street--what then?" inquired Huckaback, with a
sigh of exhausted attention.
"Why, when I'd got there, I could have bitten my tongue off, as one may
suppose; but, just as I was a-turning to go in again, who should come up
to me but Mr. Gammon, saying, he humbly hoped there was no offence."
"Oh, glorious! So it was all set right again, then--eh?"
"Why--I--I can't quite exactly say that much, either--but--when I went
back, (being obligated by Mr. Gammon being so pressing,) the other two
was sitting as pale as death; and though Mr. Gammon and me went on our
knees to the old gent, it wasn't any use for a long time; and all that
he could be got to say was, that perhaps I might look in again
to-night--(but they first made me swear a solemn oath on the Bible never
to tell any one anything about the fortune)--and then--you went,
Huckaback, and you did the business; they of course concluding I'd sent
you!"
"Oh, bother! that can't be. Don't you see how civilly they speak of me
in their letter? They're afraid of me, you may depend on it. By the way,
Tit, how much did you promise to come down, if you got the thing?"
"_Come down!_--I--really--by Jove, I didn't think of such a thing!
No--I'm sure I didn't"--answered Titmouse, as if new light had burst in
upon him.
"Why, Tit, I never see'd such a goose! That's it, depend upon it--it's
the whole thing! That's what they're driving at, in the note!--Why, Tit,
where _was_ your wits? D' ye think such gents as them--great lawyers,
too--will work for nothing?--You must write at once and tell them you
will come down handsome--say a couple of hundreds, besides
expenses--Gad! 'twill set you on your pins again, Titty!--Rot me! now I
think of it, if I didn't dream last night that you was a Member of
Parliament or something of that sort."
"A member of Parliament! And so I shall, if all this turns up well--I
shall be _that_ at least!" replied Titmouse, exultingly.
"You see if my dream don't come true! You see, Titty, I'm _always_
a-thinking of you, day and night. Never was two fellows that was such
close friends as we was from the very beginning of knowing each other!"
[They had been acquainted with each other about half a year.]
"Hucky, what a cruel scamp I was to behave to you in the way I
did--curse me, if I couldn't cry to see your eye bunged up in that way!"
"Pho! dear Titty, I knew you loved me all the while"--whined Huckaback,
"and meant no harm; you wasn't yourself when you did it--and besides, I
deserved ten times more! If you had killed me I should have liked you as
much as ever!"
"Give us your hand, Hucky! Let's forgive one another!" cried Titmouse,
excitedly; and their hands were quickly locked together.
"If we don't mismanage the thing, we shall be all right yet, Titty; but
you won't do anything without speaking to _me_ first--will you, Titty?"
"The thoughts of it all going right again is enough to set me wild,
Hucky--But what shall we do to set the thing going again?"
"_Quarter past one!_" quivered the voice of the paralytic watchman
beneath, startling the friends out of their exciting colloquy; his
warning being at the same time silently seconded by the long-wicked
candle, burning within half an inch of its socket. They hastily agreed
that Titmouse should immediately write to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and
Snap, a proper [_i. e._ a most abject] letter, solemnly pledging himself
to obey their injunctions in everything for the future, and offering
them a handsome reward for their exertions, if successful.
"Well--good-night, Huck! good-night," said Titmouse, rising. "I'm not
the least sleepy--I sha'n't sleep a wink all night long! I shall sit up
to write my letter--you haven't got a sheet of paper here, by the
way?--I've used all mine." [That was, he had, some months before, bought
a sheet to write a letter, and had so used it.]
Huckaback produced a sheet, somewhat crumpled, from a drawer. "I'd give
a hundred if I had them!" said he; "I sha'n't care a straw for the
hiding I've got to-night--though I'm a _leetle_ sore after it, too--and
what the deuce am I to say to-morrow to Messrs. Diaper"----
"Oh, you can't hardly be at a loss for a lie that'll suit _them_,
surely!--So good-night, Hucky--good-night!"
Huckaback wrung his friend's hand, and was in a moment or two alone.
"Haven't my fingers been itching all the while to be at the fellow!"
exclaimed he, as he shut the door. "But, somehow, I've got too soft a
sperrit, and can't bear to hurt any one;--and then--if the chap gets his
£10,000 a-year--why--hem! Titty a'n't such a bad fellow, in the main,
after all."
If Titmouse had been many degrees higher in the grade of society, _he
would still have met with his Huckaback_;--a trifle more polished,
perhaps, but hardly more quick-sighted or effective than, in his way, had
been the vulgar being he had just quitted.
Titmouse hastened homeward. How it was he knew not; but the feelings of
elation with which he had quitted Huckaback did not last long; they
rapidly sank, in the cold night-air, lower and lower, the farther he got
from Leicester Square. He tried to recollect _what it was_ that had made
him take so very different a view of his affairs from that with which he
had entered Huckaback's room. He had still a vague impression that they
were not desperate; that Huckaback had told him so, _and somehow proved
it_; but how he now knew not--he could not recollect. As Huckaback had
gone on from time to time, Titmouse's little mind seemed to himself to
comprehend and appreciate what was being said, and to gather
encouragement from it; but _now_--consume it!--he stopped--rubbed his
forehead--what the deuce WAS it? By the time that he had reached his own
door, he felt in as deplorable and despairing a humor as ever. He sat
down to write his letter at once; but, after many vain efforts to
express his meaning--his feelings being not in the least degree relieved
by the many oaths he uttered--he at length furiously dashed his pen,
point-wise, upon the table, and thereby destroyed the only implement of
the sort which he possessed. Then he tore, rather than pulled off, his
clothes; blew out his candle with a furious _puff_; and threw himself on
his bed--but in so doing banged the back of his head against the back of
the bed--and which of the two suffered more, for some time after,
probably Mr. Titmouse was best able to tell.
Hath, then--oh, Titmouse! fated to undergo much!--the blind jade
Fortune, in her mad vagaries--she, the goddess whom thou hast so long
foolishly worshipped--at length cast her sportful eye upon thee, and
singled thee out to become the envy of millions of admiring fools, by
reason of the pranks she will presently make thee exhibit for her
amusement? If this be indeed, as at present it promises, her intent, she
truly, to me calmly watching her movements, appears resolved first to
wreak her spite upon thee to the uttermost, and make thee pass through
intense sufferings! Oh me! Oh me! Alas!
CHAPTER III.
The means by which Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, became possessed of
the important information which had put them into motion, as we have
seen, to find out by advertisement one yet unknown to them, it will not
be necessary for some time to explain. Theirs was a keen house, truly,
and dealing principally in the criminal line of business; and they would
not, one may be sure, have lightly committed themselves to their present
extent, namely, in inserting such an advertisement in the newspapers,
and, above all, going so far in their disclosures to Titmouse. Their
prudence in the latter step, however, was very questionable to
themselves even; and they immediately afterwards deplored together the
precipitation with which Mr. Quirk had communicated to Titmouse the
nature and extent of his possible good fortune. It was Mr. Quirk's own
doing, however, and done after as much expostulation as the cautious
Gammon could venture to use. I say they had not _lightly_ taken up the
affair; they had not "acted unadvisedly." They were fortified, first, by
the opinion of Mr. MORTMAIN, an able and experienced conveyancer, who
thus wound up an abstrusely learned opinion on the voluminous "case"
which had been submitted to him:--
"...Under all these circumstances, and assuming as above, I am
decidedly of opinion that the title to the estates in question is
at this moment not in their present possessor, (who represents the
younger branch of the Dreddlington family,) but in the descendants
of Stephen Dreddlington, through the female line; which brings us
to Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse. This person, however, seems not to
have been at all aware of the existence of his rights, or he could
hardly have been concerned in the pecuniary arrangements mentioned
at fol. 33 of the case. Probably something may be heard of his heir
by making careful inquiry in the neighborhood where he was last
heard of, and issuing advertisements for his heir-at-law; care, of
course, being taken not to be so specific in the terms of such
advertisements as to attract the notice of A. B., (the party now in
possession.) If such person should, by the means above suggested,
be discovered, I advise proceedings to be commenced forthwith,
under the advice of some gentleman of experience at the common-law
bar.
"MOULDY MORTMAIN.
"_Lincoln's Inn, January_ 19, 18--."
This was sufficiently gratifying to the "house;" but, to make assurance
doubly sure, before embarking in so harassing and expensive an
enterprise--one which lay a good deal, too, without the sphere of their
practice, which as already mentioned, was chiefly in criminal law--the
same _case_ (without Mr. Mortmain's opinion) was laid before a young
conveyancer, who, having much less business than Mr. Mortmain, would, it
was thought, "look into the case fully," though receiving only one-third
of the fee which had been paid to Mr. Mortmain. And Mr. FUSSY
FRANKPLEDGE--that was his name--_did_ "look into the case fully;" and in
doing so, turned over two-thirds of his little library;--and also
gleaned--by note and verbally--the opinions upon the subject of some
half-dozen of his "learned friends;" to say nothing of the magnificent
air with which he indoctrinated his eager and confiding pupils upon the
subject. At length his imp of a clerk bore the precious result of his
master's labors to Saffron Hill, in the shape of an "opinion," three
times as long as, and indescribably more difficult to understand than,
the opinion of Mr. Mortmain; and which if it demonstrated anything
beyond the prodigious _cram_ which had been undergone by its writer for
the purpose of producing it, demonstrated this--namely, that neither the
party indicated by Mr. Mortmain, nor the one then actually in
possession, had any more right to the estate than the aforesaid Mr.
Frankpledge; but that the happy individual so entitled was some third
person. Messrs. Quirk and Gammon, a good deal flustered hereat, hummed
and hawed on perusing these contradictory opinions of counsel learned in
the law; and the usual and proper result followed--_i. e._ a
"CONSULTATION," which was to solder up all the differences between Mr.
Mortmain and Mr. Frankpledge, or, at all events, strike out some light
which might guide their clients on their adventurous way.
Now, Mr. Mortmain had been Mr. Quirk's conveyancer (whenever such a
functionary's services had been required) for about twenty years; and
Quirk was ready to suffer death in defence of any opinion of Mr.
Mortmain. Mr. Gammon swore by Frankpledge, who had been at school with
him, and was a "rising man." Mortmain belonged to the old
school--Frankpledge steered by the new lights. The former could point to
some forty cases in the Law Reports, which had been ruled in conformity
with his previously given opinion, and some twenty which had been
overruled thereby; the latter gentleman, although he had been only five
years in practice, had written an _opinion_ which had led to a
suit--which had ended in a difference of opinion between the Court of
King's Bench and the Common Pleas; the credit of having done which was,
however, some time afterward, a little bit tarnished by the decision of
a Court of Error, without hearing the other side, _against_ the opinion
of Mr. Frankpledge. But----
Mr. Frankpledge quoted _so_ many cases, and went to the bottom of
everything, and gave so much for his money--and was _so_ civil!--
Well, the consultation came off, at length, at Mr. Mortmain's chambers,
at eight o'clock in the evening. A few minutes before that hour, Messrs.
Quirk and Gammon were to be seen in the clerk's room, in civil
conversation with that prim functionary, who explained to them that _he_
did all Mr. Mortmain's drafting--pupils were _so_ idle; that Mr.
Mortmain did not score out much of what he (the aforesaid clerk) had
drawn; that he noted up Mr. Mortmain's new cases for him in the reports,
Mr. M. having so little time; and that the other day the Vice-Chancellor
called on Mr. Mortmain--with several other matters of that sort,
calculated to enhance the importance of Mr. Mortmain; who, as the clerk
was asking Mr. Gammon, in a good-natured way, how long Mr. Frankpledge
had been in practice, and where his chambers were--made his appearance,
with a cheerful look and a bustling gait, having just walked down from
his house in Queen's Square, with a comfortable bottle of old port on
board. Shortly afterwards Mr. Frankpledge arrived, followed by his
little clerk, bending beneath two bags of books, (unconscious bearer of
as much law as had well-nigh split thousands of learned heads, and
broken tens of thousands of hearts, in the making of, being destined to
have a similar but far greater effect in the applying of,) and the
consultation began.
As Frankpledge entered, he could not help casting a sheep's eye towards
a table that glistened with _such_ an array of "papers," (a tasteful
arrangement of Mr. Mortmain's clerk before every consultation;) and down
sat the two conveyancers and the two attorneys. I devoutly wish I had
time to describe the scene at length; but greater events are pressing
upon me. The two conveyancers fenced with one another for some time very
guardedly and good-humoredly: pleasant was it to observe the conscious
condescension of Mortmain, the anxious energy and volubility of
Frankpledge. When Mr. Mortmain said anything that seemed weighty or
pointed, Quirk looked with an elated air, a quick triumphant glance, at
Gammon; who, in his turn, whenever Mr. Frankpledge quoted an "old case"
from Bendloe, Godbolt, or the Year Books, (which, having always piqued
himself on his almost exclusive acquaintance with the modern cases, he
made a point of doing,) gazed at Quirk with a smile of placid
superiority. Mr. Frankpledge talked almost the whole time; Mr. Mortmain,
immovable in the view of the case which he had taken in his "opinion,"
listened with an attentive, good-natured air, ruminating pleasantly the
while upon the quality of the port he had been drinking, (the first of
the bin which he had tasted,) and upon the decision which the Chancellor
might come to on a case brought into court on his advice, and which had
been argued that afternoon. At last Frankpledge unwittingly fell foul of
a favorite crotchet of Mortmain's--and at it they went, hammer and
tongs, for nearly twenty minutes, (it had nothing whatever to do with
the case they were consulting upon.) In the end, Mortmain of course
adhered to his points, and Frankpledge intrenched himself in his books;
each slightly yielded to the views of the other on immaterial points,
(or what would have appeared the use of the consultation?) but did that
which both had resolved upon doing from the first, _i. e._ sticking to
his original opinion. Both had talked an amazing deal of deep law, which
had at least one effect, viz. it fairly drowned both Quirk and Gammon,
who, as they went home, with not (it must be owned) the clearest
perceptions in the world of what had been going on, (though, before
going to the consultation, each had really known something about the
case,) stood each stoutly by his conveyancer's opinion, each protesting
that he had never been once misled--Quirk by Mortmain, or Gammon by
Frankpledge--and each resolved to give _his_ man more of the
conveyancing business of the house than he had before. I grieve to add,
that they parted that night with a trifle less of cordiality than had
been their wont. In the morning, however, this little irritation had
passed away; and they agreed, before giving up the case, to take the
final opinion of Mr. TRESAYLE--the great Mr. Tresayle. He was, indeed, a
wonderful conveyancer--a perfect miracle of real-property law-learning.
He had had such an enormous practice for forty-five years, that for the
last ten he had never put his nose out of chambers for pure want of
time, and at last of inclination; and had been so conversant with Norman
French and law Latin, in the old English letter, that he had almost
entirely forgotten how to write the modern English character. His
opinions made their appearance in three different kinds of handwriting.
First, one that none but he and his old clerk could make out; secondly,
one that none but he himself could read; and thirdly, one that neither
he, nor his clerk, nor any one on earth, could decipher. The use of any
one of these styles depended on--the difficulty of the case to be
answered. If it were an easy one, the answer was very judiciously put
into No. I.; if rather difficult, it, of course, went into No. II.; and
if exceedingly difficult, (and also important,) it was very properly
thrown into No. III.; being a question that really ought not to have
been asked, and did not deserve an answer. The fruit within these
uncouth shells, however, was precious. Mr. Tresayle's law was supreme
over everybody's else. It was currently reported that Lord Eldon even
(who was himself slightly acquainted with such subjects) reverently
deferred to the authority of Mr. Tresayle; and would lie winking and
knitting his shaggy eyebrows half the night, if he thought that Mr.
Tresayle's opinion on a case, and his own, differed. This was the great
authority to whom, as in the last resort, Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and
Snap resolved to appeal. To his chambers they, within a day or two after
their consultation at Mr. Mortmain's, despatched their case, (making no
mention of the opinion which had been previously taken,) with a highly
respectable fee, and a special compliment to his clerk, hoping to hear
from that awful quarter within a month--which was the earliest average
period within which Mr. Tresayle's opinions found their way to his
patient but anxious clients. It came at length, with a note from Mr.
Prim, his clerk, intimating that they would find him, _i. e._ the
aforesaid Mr. Prim, at his chambers the next morning, prepared to
explain the opinion to them; having just had it read over to him by Mr.
Tresayle, for it proved to be in No. II. The opinion occupied about two
pages; and the handwriting bore a strong resemblance to Chinese or
Arabic, with a quaint intermixture of the uncial Greek character--it was
impossible to contemplate it without a certain feeling of awe! In vain
did old Quirk squint at it, from all corners, for nearly a couple of
hours, (having first called in the assistance of a friend of his, an old
attorney of upwards of fifty years' standing;) nay--even Mr. Gammon,
foiled at length, could not for the life of him refrain from a soft
curse or two. Neither of them could make anything of it--(as for Snap,
they never showed it to him; it was not within his province--_i. e._ the
Insolvent Debtors' Court, the Old Bailey, the Clerkenwell Sessions, the
Police Offices, the inferior business of the Common Law Courts, and the
worrying of the clerks of the office--a department in which he was
perfection itself.)
To their great delight, Mr. Tresayle took Mr. Mortmain's view of the
case. Nothing could be more terse, perspicuous, and conclusive than the
great man's opinion. Mr. Quirk was in raptures, and that very day sent
to procure an engraving of Mr. Tresayle, which had lately come out, for
which he paid 5s., and ordered it to be framed and hung up in his own
room, where already grinned a quaint resemblance, in black profile, of
Mr. Mortmain, cheek by jowl with that of a notorious traitor who had
been hanged in spite of Mr. Quirk's best exertions. In special
good-humor, he assured Mr. Gammon, (who was plainly somewhat crestfallen
about Mr. Frankpledge,) that everybody must have a beginning; that even
he himself (Mr. Quirk) had been once only a beginner.
Once fairly on the scent, Messrs. Quirk and Gammon soon began, secretly
but energetically, to push their inquiries in all directions. They
discovered that Gabriel Tittlebat Titmouse, having spent the chief
portion of his blissful days as a cobbler at Whitehaven, had died in
London, somewhere about the year 1793. At this point they stood for a
long while, in spite of two advertisements, to which they had been
driven with the greatest reluctance, for fear of attracting the
attention of those most interested in thwarting their efforts. Even that
part of the affair had been managed somewhat skilfully. It was a stroke
of Mr. Gammon's to advertise not for "Heir-at-Law," but "_Next of Kin_,"
as the reader has seen. The former might have challenged the notice of
unfriendly curiosity, which the latter was hardly calculated to attract.
At length--at the "third time of asking"--up turned Tittlebat Titmouse,
in the way which we have seen. His relationship with Mr. Gabriel
Tittlebat Titmouse was indisputable; in fact, he was (to adopt his own
words) that "deceased person's" son and heir-at-law.
The reader may guess the chagrin and disgust of Mr. Gammon at the
appearance, manners, and character of the person whom he fully believed,
on first seeing him at Messrs. Tag-rag's, to be the rightful owner of
the fine estates held by one who, as against Mr. Titmouse, had no more
real title to them than had Mr. Tag-rag; and for whom their house was to
undertake the very grave risk and expense of instituting such
proceedings as would be requisite to place Mr. Titmouse in the position
which they believed him entitled to occupy--having to encounter a hot
and desperate opposition at every point, from those who had nine-tenths
of the law--to wit, _possession_--on their side, on which they stood as
upon a rock; and with immense means for carrying on the war defensive.
That Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap did not contemplate undertaking all
this, without having calculated upon its proving well worthy their
while, was only reasonable. They were going voluntarily to become the
means of conferring immense benefits upon one who was a total stranger
to them--who had not a penny to spend upon the prosecution of his own
rights. Setting aside certain difficulties which collected themselves
into two awkward words, MAINTENANCE and CHAMPERTY, and stared them in
the face whenever they contemplated any obvious method of securing the
just reward of their enterprise and toils--setting aside all this, I
say, it might turn out, only after a ruinous expenditure had been
incurred, that the high authorities which had sanctioned their
proceedings in point of law, had expressed their favorable opinions on a
state of facts, which, however satisfactorily they looked on paper,
could not be substantiated, if keenly sifted, and determinedly resisted.
All this, too--all their time, labor, and money, to go for nothing--on
behalf of a vulgar, selfish, ignorant, presumptuous, ungrateful puppy,
like Titmouse!--Well indeed, therefore, might Mr. Gammon, as we have
seen he did, give himself and partners a forty-eight hours' interval,
between his interview with Titmouse and formal introduction of him to
the firm, in which to consider their position and mode of procedure. The
taste of his quality which that first interview afforded them all--so
far surpassing all that the bitter description of him given to them by
Mr. Gammon had prepared them for--filled the partners with inexpressible
disgust, and would have induced them to throw up the whole affair--so
getting rid both of it, and of him, together. But then, on the other
hand, there were certain very great advantages, both of a professional
and even directly pecuniary kind, which it would have been madness
indeed for any office lightly to throw away. It was really, after all,
an unequal struggle between feeling and interest. If they should succeed
in unseating the present wrongful possessor of a very splendid property,
and putting in his place the rightful owner, by means alone of their own
professional ability, perseverance, and heavy pecuniary outlay, (a
fearful consideration, truly, but Mr. Quirk had scraped together some
thirty thousand pounds!) what recompense could be too great for such
resplendent services? To say nothing of the _éclat_ which it would gain
for their office, in the profession and in the world at large, and the
substantial and permanent advantages to the firm, if, as they ought to
be, they were intrusted with the general management of the property by
the new and inexperienced and confiding owner--ay, but there was the
rub! What a disheartening and disgusting specimen of such new owner had
disclosed itself to their anxiously expecting but soon recoiling
eyes--always, however, making due allowances for one or two cheering
indications, on Mr. Titmouse's part, of a certain rapacious and
litigious humor, which might hereafter right pleasantly and profitably
occupy their energies! Their professional position, and their interests
had long made them sharp observers; but when did ever before low and
disgusting qualities force themselves into revolting prominence, as
those of Mr. Titmouse had done, in the very moment of an expected
display of the better feelings of human nature--such as enthusiastic
gratitude? They had, in their time, had to deal with some pleasant
specimens of humanity, to be sure; but when with any more odious and
impracticable than Tittlebat Titmouse threatened to prove himself? What
hold could they get upon such a character as his? Beneath all his
coarseness and weakness, there was a glimmer of low cunning which might
suffice to keep their superior and practised astuteness at its full
stretch. These were difficulties, cheerless enough in the contemplation,
truly; but, nevertheless, the partners could not bear the idea of
escaping from them by throwing up the affair altogether. Then came the
question--How were they to manage Mr. Titmouse?--how acquire an early
and firm hold of him, so as to convert him into a _capital client_? His
fears and his interests were obviously the engines with which their
experienced hands were to work; and several long and most anxious
consultations had Messrs. Quirk and Gammon had on this important matter.
The first great question with them was--To what extent, and when, they
should acquaint him with the nature of his expectations.
Gammon was for keeping him comparatively in the dark, till success was
within reach: during that interval, (which might be a long one,) by
alternately stimulating his hopes and fears; by habituating him to an
entire dependence on them; by persuading him of the prodigious extent of
their exertions and sacrifices on his behalf--they _might_ do something;
mould him into a shape fit for their purposes, and persuade him that his
affairs must needs go to ruin but in their hands. Something like this
was the scheme of the cautious, acute, and placid Gammon. Mr. Quirk,
however, (with whom, as will be hereafter shown, had originated the
whole discovery,) thought thus:--tell the fellow at once the whole
extent of what we can do for him, viz. turn a half-starving
linen-draper's shopman into the owner of £10,000 a-year, and of a great
store of ready money. This will, in a manner, stun him into submission,
and make him at once and for all what we want him to be. He will
immediately fall prostrate with reverent gratitude--looking at us,
moreover, as three gods, who, at our will, can shut him out of heaven.
"_That's_ the way to bring down your bird," said Mr. Quirk; and Mr.
Quirk had been forty years in practice--had made the business what it
was--still held half of it in his own hands, (two-thirds of the
remaining half being Gammon's, and the residue Snap's:) and Gammon,
moreover, had a very distinct perception that the funds for carrying on
the war would come out of the tolerably well-stored pockets of the
august head of the firm. So, after a long discussion, he openly yielded
his opinion to that of Mr. Quirk--cherishing, however, a very warm
respect for it in his own bosom. As for Snap, that distinguished member
of the firm was very little consulted in the matter; which had not yet
been brought to that stage where his powerful energies could come into
play. He had of course, however, heard a good deal of what was going on;
and knew that ere long there would be the copying out and serving of the
Lord knows how many copies of declarations in ejectment, motions against
the casual ejector, and so forth--so far at least as he was "up to" all
those quaint and anomalous proceedings. It had, therefore, been at
length agreed that the communication to Titmouse, on his first
interview, of the full extent of his splendid expectations, should
depend upon the discretion of Mr. Quirk. The reader has seen the
unexpected turn which matters took upon that important occasion; and if
it proved Quirk's policy to be somewhat inferior in point of discretion
and long-sightedness to that of Gammon, still it must be owned that the
latter had cause to admire the rapid generalship with which Mr. Quirk
had obviated the consequences of his false move--not ill seconded by
Snap. What could have been more judicious than his reception of
Titmouse, on the occasion of his being led in again by the subtle
Gammon?
The next and greatest matter was, how to obtain any hold upon such a
person as Titmouse had shown himself, so as to secure to themselves, in
the event of success, the remuneration to which they considered
themselves entitled. Was it so perfectly clear that, if he felt disposed
to resist it, they could compel him to pay the mere amount of their bill
of costs?
Suppose he should turn round upon them, and have their BILL TAXED--Mr.
Quirk grunted with fright at the bare thought. Then there was a slapping
_quiddam honorarium_ extra--undoubtedly for _that_ they must, they
feared, trust to the honor and gratitude of Mr. Titmouse; and a pretty
taste of the quality of that animal they had already experienced! Such a
disposition as _his_, to have to rely upon for the prompt settlement of
a bill of thousands of pounds of costs! and, besides that, to have it to
look to for the payment of at least some five or perhaps ten thousand
pounds _douceur_--nay, and this was not all. Mr. Quirk had, as well as
Mr. Gammon, cast many an anxious eye on the following passages from
_Blackstone's Commentaries_:--
"MAINTENANCE is an officious intermeddling in a suit that no way
belongs to one, by 'maintaining' or assisting either party with
money, or otherwise, to prosecute or defend it.... It is an offence
against public justice, as it keeps alive strife and contention,
and perverts the remedial process of the law into an engine of
oppression.... The punishment by common law is fine and
imprisonment, and by statute 32 Hen. VIII. c. 9, a forfeiture of
£10!
"CHAMPERTY--(_campi partitio_)--is a species of Maintenance, and
punished in the same manner; being a bargain with a plaintiff or
defendant '_campum partiri_,' to divide the land, or other matter
sued for, between them, if they prevail at law; whereupon the
champertor is to carry on the suit at his own expense.... These
pests of civil society, that are perpetually endeavoring to disturb
the repose of their neighbors, and officiously interfering in other
men's quarrels, even at the hazard of their own fortunes, were
severely animadverted on by the Roman law; and they were punished
by the forfeiture of a third part of their goods, and perpetual
infamy."[4]
These were pleasant passages surely!----
Many were the conversations and consultations which the partners had had
with Messrs. Mortmain and Frankpledge respectively, upon the interesting
question, whether there were any mode of at once securing themselves
against the ingratitude of Titmouse, and protecting themselves against
the penalties of the law. It made old Mr. Quirk's bald head, even, flush
all over whenever he thought of their bill being taxed, or contemplated
himself the inmate of a prison, (above all, at his advanced time of
life,) with mournful leisure to meditate upon the misdeeds that had sent
him thither, to which profitable exercise the legislature would have
specially stimulated him by a certain _fine_ above mentioned. As for
Gammon, he knew there _must_ be a way of doing the thing somehow or
another; for his friend Frankpledge felt infinitely less difficulty in
the way than Mortmain, whom he considered a timid and old-fashioned
practitioner. The courts, said Mr. Frankpledge, were now setting their
faces strongly against the doctrine of Maintenance, as being founded on
a bygone state of things: _cessante ratione cessat et ipsa lex_, was his
favorite maxim. There was no wrong without a remedy, he said; and was
there not a _wrong_ in the case of a poor man wrongfully deprived of his
own? And how could this be _remedied_, if the old law of Maintenance
stood like a bugbear in the way of humane and spirited practitioners?
Was no one to be at liberty to take up the cause of the oppressed,
encouraged by the prospect of an ample recompense? It might be said,
perhaps--let the claimant sue _in formâ pauperis_: but then he must
swear that he is not worth five pounds; and a man may not be able to
take that oath, and yet be unequal to the commencement of a suit
requiring the outlay of thousands. Moreover, a pretty prospect it was
for such a suitor, (_in formâ pauperis_,) if he should happen to be
nonsuited--to be "put to his election, whether to be whipped or pay the
costs."[5] Thus reasoned within himself that astute person, Mr.
Frankpledge; and at length satisfied himself that he had framed an
instrument which would "meet the case"--that "would hold water." To the
best of my recollection, it was a BOND, conditioned to pay the sum of
ten thousand pounds to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, within two
months of Titmouse's being put into possession of the rents and profits
of the estate in question. The _condition_ of that bond was, as its
framer believed, drawn in a masterly manner; and his draf
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