Burlesques: Novels by Eminent Hands Read online

two hours of drink and quiet afterwards, up comes the carriage, in bursts my

  Jemmy, as fine as a duchess, and scented like our shop. "Come, my dear," says

  she, "it's 'Normy' to�night" (or "Annybalony," or the "Nosey di Figaro," or the

  "Gazzylarder," as the case may be). "Mr. Foster strikes off punctually at eight,

  and you know it's the fashion to be always present at the very first bar of the

  aperture." And so off we are obliged to budge, to be miserable for five hours,

  and to have a headache for the next twelve, and all because it's the fashion!

  After the aperture, as they call it, comes the opera, which, as I am given to

  understand, is the Italian for singing. Why they should sing in Italian, I can't

  conceive; or why they should do nothing BUT sing. Bless us! how I used to long

  for the wooden magpie in the "Gazzylarder" to fly up to the top of the church-

  steeple, with the silver spoons, and see the chaps with the pitchforks come in

  and carry off that wicked Don June. Not that I don't admire Lablash, and Rubini,

  and his brother, Tomrubini: him who has that fine bass voice, I mean, and acts

  the Corporal in the first piece, and Don June in the second; but three hours is

  a LITTLE too much, for you can't sleep on those little rickety seats in the

  boxes.

  The opera is bad enough; but what is that to the bally? You SHOULD have seen my

  Jemmy the first night when she stopped to see it; and when Madamsalls Fanny and

  Theresa Hustler came forward, along with a gentleman, to dance, you should have

  seen how Jemmy stared, and our girl blushed, when Madamsall Fanny, coming

  forward, stood on the tips of only five of her toes, and raising up the other

  five, and the foot belonging to them, almost to her shoulder, twirled round, and

  round, and round, like a teetotum, for a couple of minutes or more; and as she

  settled down, at last, on both feet, in a natural decent posture, you should

  have heard how the house roared with applause, the boxes clapping with all their

  might, and waving their handkerchiefs; the pit shouting, " Bravo!" Some people,

  who, I suppose, were rather angry at such an exhibition, threw bunches of

  flowers at her; and what do you think she did? Why, hang me, if she did not come

  forward, as though nothing had happened, gather up the things they had thrown at

  her, smile, press them to her heart, and begin whirling round again faster than

  ever. Talk about coolness, I never saw such in all MY born days.

  "Nasty thing!" says Jemmy, starting up in a fury; "if women WILL act so, it

  serves them right to be treated so."

  "Oh, yes! she acts beautifully," says our friend his Excellency, who along with

  Baron von Punter and Tagrag, used very seldom to miss coming to our box.

  "She may act very beautifully, Munseer, but she don't dress so; and I am very

  glad they threw that orange-peel and all those things at her, and that the

  people waved to her to get off."

  Here his Excellency, and the Baron and Tag, set up a roar of laughter.

  "My dear Mrs. Coxe," says Tag, "those are the most famous dancers in the world;

  and we throw myrtle, geraniums, and lilies and roses at them, in token of our

  immense admiration!"

  "Well, I never!" said my wife; and poor Jemimarann slunk behind the curtain, and

  looked as red as it almost. After the one had done the next begun; but when, all

  of a sudden, a somebody came skipping and bounding in, like an Indian-rubber

  ball, flinging itself up, at least six feet from the stage, and there shaking

  about its legs like mad, we were more astonished than ever!

  "That's Anatole," says one of the gentlemen.

  "Anna who?" says my wife; and she might well be mistaken: for this person had a

  hat and feathers, a bare neck and arms, great black ringlets, and a little

  calico frock, which came down to the knees.

  "Anatole. You would not think he was sixty-three years old, he's as active as a

  man of twenty."

  "HE!" shrieked out my wife; "what, is that there a man? For shame! Munseer.

  Jemimarann, dear, get your cloak, and come along; and I'll thank you, my dear,

  to call our people, and let us go home."

  You wouldn't think, after this, that my Jemmy, who had shown such a horror at

  the bally, as they call it, should ever grow accustomed to it; but she liked to

  hear her name shouted out in the crush- room, and so would stop till the end of

  everything; and, law bless you! in three weeks from that time, she could look at

  the ballet as she would at a dancing-dog in the streets, and would bring her

  double-barrelled opera-glass up to her eyes as coolly as if she had been a born

  duchess. As for me, I did at Rome as Rome does; and precious fun it used to be,

  sometimes.

  My friend the Baron insisted one night on my going behind the scenes; where,

  being a subscriber, he said I had what they call my ONTRAY. Behind, then, I

  went; and such a place you never saw nor heard of! Fancy lots of young and old

  gents of the fashion crowding round and staring at the actresses practising

  their steps. Fancy yellow snuffy foreigners, chattering always, and smelling

  fearfully of tobacco. Fancy scores of Jews, with hooked-noses and black muzzles,

  covered with rings, chains, sham diamonds, and gold waistcoats. Fancy old men

  dressed in old nightgowns, with knock- knees, and dirty flesh-colored cotton

  stockings, and dabs of brick- dust on their wrinkled old chops, and tow-wigs

  (such wigs!) for the bald ones, and great tin spears in their hands mayhap, or

  else shepherds' crooks, and fusty garlands of flowers made of red and green

  baize. Fancy troops of girls giggling, chattering, pushing to and fro, amidst

  old black canvas, Gothic halls, thrones, pasteboard Cupids, dragons, and such

  like. Such dirt, darkness, crowd, confusion and gabble of all conceivable

  languages was never known!

  If you COULD but have seen Munseer Anatole! Instead of looking twenty, he looked

  a thousand. The old man's wig was off, and a barber was giving it a touch with

  the tongs; Munseer was taking snuff himself, and a boy was standing by with a

  pint of beer from the public-house at the corner of Charles Street.

  I met with a little accident during the three-quarters of an hour which they

  allow for the entertainment of us men of fashion on the stage, before the

  curtain draws up for the bally, while the ladies in the boxes are gaping, and

  the people in the pit are drumming with their feet and canes in the rudest

  manner possible, as though they couldn't wait.

  Just at the moment before the little bell rings and the curtain flies up, and we

  scuffle off to the sides (for we always stay till the very last moment), I was

  in the middle of the stage, making myself very affable to the fair figgerantys

  which was spinning and twirling about me, and asking them if they wasn't cold,

  and such like politeness, in the most condescending way possible, when a bolt

  was suddenly withdrawn, and down I popped, through a trap in the stage, into the

  place below. Luckily I was stopped by a piece of machinery, consisting of a heap

  of green blankets and a young lady coming up as Venus rising from the sea. If I

  had not fallen so soft, I don'
t know what might have been the consequence of the

  collusion. I never told Mrs. Coxe, for she can't bear to hear of my paying the

  least attention to the fair sex.

  STRIKING A BALANCE.

  Next door to us, in Portland Place, lived the Right Honorable the Earl of

  Kilblazes, of Kilmacrasy Castle, County Kildare, and his mother the Dowager

  Countess. Lady Kilblazes had a daughter, Lady Juliana Matilda MacTurk, of the

  exact age of our dear Jemimarann; and a son, the Honorable Arthur Wellington

  Anglesea Blucher Bulow MacTurk, only ten months older than our boy Tug.

  My darling Jemmy is a woman of spirit, and, as become her station, made every

  possible attempt to become acquainted with the Dowager Countess of Kilblazes,

  which her ladyship (because, forsooth, she was the daughter of the Minister, and

  Prince of Wales's great friend, the Earl of Portansherry) thought fit to reject.

  I don't wonder at my Jemmy growing so angry with her, and determining, in every

  way, to put her ladyship down. The Kilblazes' estate is not so large as the

  Tuggeridge property by two thousand a year at least; and so my wife, when our

  neighbors kept only two footmen, was quite authorized in having three; and she

  made it a point, as soon as ever the Kilblazes' carriage-and-pair came round, to

  have out her own carriage-and-four.

  Well, our box was next to theirs at the Opera; only twice as big. Whatever

  masters went to Lady Juliana, came to my Jemimarann; and what do you think Jemmy

  did? she got her celebrated governess, Madame de Flicflac, away from the

  Countess, by offering a double salary. It was quite a treasure, they said, to

  have Madame Flicflac: she had been (to support her father, the Count, when he

  emigrated) a FRENCH dancer at the ITALIAN Opera. French dancing, and Italian,

  therefore, we had at once, and in the best style: it is astonishing how quick

  and well she used to speak�the French especially.

  Master Arthur MacTurk was at the famous school of the Reverend Clement Coddler,

  along with a hundred and ten other young fashionables, from the age of three to

  fifteen; and to this establishment Jemmy sent our Tug, adding forty guineas to

  the hundred and twenty paid every year for the boarders. I think I found out the

  dear soul's reason; for, one day, speaking about the school to a mutual

  acquaintance of ours and the Kilblazes, she whispered to him that "she never

  would have thought of sending her darling boy at the rate which her next-door

  neighbors paid; THEIR lad, she was sure, must be starved: however, poor people,

  they did the best they could on their income!"

  Coddler's, in fact, was the tip-top school near London: he had been tutor to the

  Duke of Buckminster, who had set him up in the school, and, as I tell you, all

  the peerage and respectable commoners came to it. You read in the bill, (the

  snopsis, I think, Coddler called it,) after the account of the charges for

  board, masters, extras, young nobleman (or gentleman) is expected to bring a

  knife, fork, spoon, and goblet of silver (to prevent breakage), which will not

  be returned; a dressing-gown and slippers; toilet- box, pomatum, curling-irons,

  The pupil must on NO ACCOUNT be allowed to have more than ten guineas of

  pocket-money, unless his parents particularly desire it, or he be above fifteen

  years of age. WINE will be an extra charge; as are warm, vapor, and douche

  baths. CARRIAGE EXERCISE will be provided at the rate of fifteen guineas per

  quarter. It is EARNESTLY REQUESTED that no young nobleman (or gentleman) be

  allowed to smoke. In a place devoted to THE CULTIVATION OF POLITE LITERATURE,

  such an ignoble enjoyment were profane.

  "CLEMENT CODDLER, M. A.,

  "Chaplain and late tutor to his Grace the Duke of Buckminster.

  "MOUNT PARNASSUS, RICHMOND, SURREY."

  To this establishment our Tug was sent. "Recollect, my dear," said his mamma,

  "that you are a Tuggeridge by birth, and that I expect you to beat all the boys

  in the school; especially that Wellington MacTurk, who, though he is a lord's

  son, is nothing to you, who are the heir of Tuggeridgeville."

  Tug was a smart young fellow enough, and could cut and curl as well as any young

  chap of his age: he was not a bad hand at a wig either, and could shave, too,

  very prettily; but that was in the old time, when we were not great people: when

  he came to be a gentleman, he had to learn Latin and Greek, and had a deal of

  lost time to make up for, on going to school.

  However, we had no fear; for the Reverend Mr. Coddler used to send monthly

  accounts of his pupil's progress, and if Tug was not a wonder of the world, I

  don't know who was. It was

  General behavior excellent.

  English very good.

  French tres bien.

  Latin optime.

  And so on:�he possessed all the virtues, and wrote to us every month for money.

  My dear Jemmy and I determined to go and see him, after he had been at school a

  quarter; we went, and were shown by Mr. Coddler, one of the meekest, smilingest

  little men I ever saw, into the bedrooms and eating-rooms (the dromitaries and

  refractories he called them), which were all as comfortable as comfortable might

  be. "It is a holiday, today," said Mr. Coddler; and a holiday it seemed to be.

  In the dining-room were half a dozen young gentlemen playing at cards ("All

  tip-top nobility," observed Mr. Coddler);�in the bedrooms there was only one

  gent: he was lying on his bed, reading novels and smoking cigars. "Extraordinary

  genius!" whispered Coddler. "Honorable Tom Fitz-Warter, cousin of Lord Byron's;

  smokes all day; and has written the SWEETEST poems you can imagine. Genius, my

  dear madam, you know�genius must have its way." "Well, UPON my word," says

  Jemmy, "if that's genius, I had rather that Master Tuggeridge Coxe Tuggeridge

  remained a dull fellow."

  "Impossible, my dear madam," said Coddler. "Mr. Tuggeridge Coxe COULDN'T be

  stupid if he TRIED."

  Just then up comes Lord Claude Lollypop, third son of the Marquis of

  Allycompane. We were introduced instantly: "Lord Claude Lollypop, Mr. and Mrs.

  Coxe." The little lord wagged his head, my wife bowed very low, and so did Mr.

  Coddler; who, as he saw my lord making for the playground, begged him to show us

  the way.�"Come along," says my lord; and as he walked before us, whistling, we

  had leisure to remark the beautiful holes in his jacket, and elsewhere.

  About twenty young noblemen (and gentlemen) were gathered round a pastry-cook's

  shop at the end of the green. "That's the grub- shop," said my lord, "where we

  young gentlemen wot has money buys our wittles, and them young gentlemen wot has

  none, goes tick."

  Then we passed a poor red-haired usher sitting on a bench alone. "That's Mr.

  Hicks, the Husher, ma'am," says my lord. "We keep him, for he's very useful to

  throw stones at, and he keeps the chaps' coats when there's a fight, or a game

  at cricket.�Well, Hicks, how's your mother? what's the row now?" "I believe, my

  lord," said the usher, very meekly, "there is a pugilistic encounter somewhere

  on the premises
�the Honorable Mr. Mac�"

  "Oh! COME along," said Lord Lollypop, "come along: this way, ma'am! Go it, ye

  cripples!" And my lord pulled my dear Jemmy's gown in the kindest and most

  familiar way, she trotting on after him, mightily pleased to be so taken notice

  of, and I after her. A little boy went running across the green. "Who is it,

  Petitoes?" screams my lord. "Turk and the barber," pipes Petitoes, and runs to

  the pastry-cook's like mad. "Turk and the ba�," laughs out my lord, looking at

  us. "HURRA! THIS way, ma'am!" And turning round a corner, he opened a door into

  a court-yard, where a number of boys were collected, and a great noise of shrill

  voices might be heard. "Go it, Turk!" says one. "Go it, barber!" says another.

  "PUNCH HITH LIFE OUT!" roars another, whose voice was just cracked, and his

  clothes half a yard too short for him!

  Fancy our horror when, on the crowd making way, we saw Tug pummelling away at

  the Honorable Master MacTurk! My dear Jemmy, who don't understand such things,

  pounced upon the two at once, and, with one hand tearing away Tug, sent him

  spinning back into the arms of his seconds, while, with the other, she clawed

  hold of Master MacTurk's red hair, and, as soon as she got her second hand free,

  banged it about his face and ears like a good one.

  "You nasty�wicked�quarrelsome�aristocratic" (each word was a

  bang)�"aristocratic�oh! oh! oh!"�Here the words stopped; for what with the

  agitation, maternal solicitude, and a dreadful kick on the shins which, I am

  ashamed to say, Master MacTurk administered, my dear Jemmy could bear it no

  longer, and sunk fainting away in my arms.

  DOWN AT BEULAH.

  Although there was a regular cut between the next-door people and us, yet Tug

  and the Honorable Master MacTurk kept up their acquaintance over the back-garden

  wall, and in the stables, where they were fighting, making friends, and playing

  tricks from morning to night, during the holidays. Indeed, it was from young Mac

  that we first heard of Madame de Flicflac, of whom my Jemmy robbed Lady

  Kilblazes, as I before have related. When our friend the Baron first saw Madame,

  a very tender greeting passed between them; for they had, as it appeared, been

  old friends abroad. "Sapristie," said the Baron, in his lingo, "que fais-tu ici,

  Amenaide?" "Et toi, mon pauvre Chicot," says she, "est-ce qu'on t'a mis a la

  retraite? Il parait que tu n'es plus General chez Franco�" CHUT!" says the

  Baron, putting his finger to his lips.

  "What are they saying, my dear?" says my wife to Jemimarann, who had a pretty

  knowledge of the language by this time.

  "I don't know what 'Sapristie' means, mamma; but the Baron asked Madame what she

  was doing here? and Madame said, 'And you, Chicot, you are no more a General at

  Franco.'�Have I not translated rightly, Madame?"

  "Oui, mon chou, mon ange. Yase, my angel, my cabbage, quite right. Figure

  yourself, I have known my dear Chicot dis twenty years."

  "Chicot is my name of baptism," says the Baron; "Baron Chicot de Punter is my

  name."

  "And being a General at Franco," says Jemmy, "means, I suppose, being a French

  General?"

  "Yes, I vas," said he, "General Baron de Punter�n'est 'a pas, Amenaide?"

  "Oh, yes!" said Madame Flicflac, and laughed; and I and Jemmy laughed out of

  politeness: and a pretty laughing matter it was, as you shall hear.

  About this time my Jemmy became one of the Lady-Patronesses of that admirable

  institution, "The Washerwoman's-Orphans' Home;" Lady de Sudley was the great

  projector of it; and the manager and chaplain, the excellent and Reverend Sidney

  Slopper. His salary, as chaplain, and that of Doctor Leitch, the physician (both

  cousins of her ladyship's), drew away five hundred pounds from the six

  subscribed to the Charity: and Lady de Sudley thought a fete at Beulah Spa, with

  the aid of some of the foreign princes who were in town last year, might bring a