Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 2

"My eyes!" exclaimed Titmouse, excitedly; quickly, however, adding with a sad air—"but then, what a lot of it will go to old Quirk?"

"He is rather a keen and hard—ahem! I own; but"–

"'Pon my life, couldn't we do the old gent?"

"On no consideration, Mr. Titmouse; it would be a fatal step for you—and indeed for me."

"What! and can he do anything, too? I thought it was only you."—The little fool had brought a glimpse of color into Gammon's cheek—but Titmouse's volatility quickly relieved his tripping Prospero. "By the way—'pon my life—sha'n't I have to pay it all back again! There's a go! I hadn't thought of that."

"I shall first try to get it out of Mr. Aubrey," said Gammon, "and then out of another friend of yours. In the mean while we must not drop the Tag-rags just yet." They then got into a long and confidential conversation together; in the course of which, Titmouse happened to pop out a little secret of his, which till then he had managed to keep from Gammon, and which occasioned that gentleman a great and sudden inward confusion—one which it was odd that so keen an observer as Titmouse did not perceive indications of in the countenance of Gammon; viz. his—Titmouse's—fervent and disinterested love for Miss Aubrey. While he was rattling on with eager volubility upon this topic, Gammon, after casting about a little in his mind, as to how he should deal with this interesting discovery, resolved for the present to humor the notion, and got out of Titmouse a full and particular account of his original "smite," as that gentleman called his passion for Miss Aubrey—the indelible impression she had made on his heart—the letter which he had addressed to her—[here Gammon's vivid fancy portrayed to him the sort of composition which must have reached Miss Aubrey, and he nearly burst into a gentle fit of laughter]—and, with a strange candor, or rather, to do him justice, with that frank simplicity which is characteristic of noble natures—he at length described his unlucky encounter with Miss Aubrey and her maid, in the winter; whereat Gammon felt a sort of sudden inward spasm, which excited a certain twinging sensation in his right toe—but it passed away—'twas after all, only a little juvenile indiscretion of Titmouse's; but Gammon, with rather a serious air, assured Titmouse that he had probably greatly endangered his prospect with Miss Aubrey.

"Eh? Why, devil take it! a'n't I going to offer to her, though she's got nothing?" interrupted Titmouse, with astonishment.

"True!—Ah, I had lost sight of that. Well, if you will pledge yourself to address no more letters to her, nor take any steps to see her, without first communicating with me—I think I can promise—hem!" he looked archly at Titmouse.

"She's a most uncommon lovely gal"—he simpered sheepishly. The fact was that Gammon had conceived quite another scheme for Titmouse—wholly inconsistent with his pure, ardent, and enlightened attachment to Miss Aubrey; 'twas undoubtedly rather a bold and ambitious one, but Gammon did not despair; for he had that confidence in himself, and in his knowledge of human nature, which always supported him in the most arduous and apparently hopeless undertakings.

There was a visible alteration for the better in the state of things at Yatton, as soon as Messrs. Yahoo and Fitz-Snooks had been disposed of. Now and then a few of the distinguished people who had honored Mr. Titmouse by going out in procession to meet and welcome him, were invited to spend a day at Yatton; and generally quitted full of admiration of the dinner and wines, the unaffected good-nature and simplicity of their hospitable host, and the bland, composed, and intellectual deportment and conversation of Mr. Gammon. When rent-day arrived, Mr. Titmouse, attended by Mr. Gammon, made his appearance in the steward's room, and also in the hall; where, according to former custom, good substantial fare was set out for the tenants. They received him with a due respect of manner; but—alas—where was the cheerfulness, the cordiality, the rough, honest heartiness of days gone by, on such occasions? Few of the tenants stayed to partake of the good things prepared for them; a circumstance which greatly affected Mr. Griffiths, and piqued Mr. Gammon; as for Titmouse, however, he said, with a laugh, "Curse 'em! let 'em leave it alone, if they a'n't hungry!" and any faint feeling of mortification which he might have experienced, was dissipated by the intelligence of the amount paid into his banker's. Gammon was sensible that the scenes which had been exhibited at Yatton on the first night of his protégé's arrival, had seriously injured him in the neighborhood and county, and was bent upon effacing, as quickly as possible, such unfavorable impressions, by prevailing on Titmouse to "purge and live cleanly"—at all events for the present.

Let me pause now, for a moment, to inquire, ought not this favored young man to have felt happy? Here he was, master of a fine estate, producing him a splendid unencumbered rent-roll; a delightful residence, suggesting innumerable dear and dignified associations connected with old English feeling; a luxurious table, with the choicest liqueurs and wines, in abundance: he might smoke the finest cigars that the world could produce, from morning to night, if so disposed; had unlimited facilities for securing a distinguished personal appearance, as far as dress and decoration went; had all the amusements of the county at his command; troops of servants, eager and obsequious in their attentions; horses and carriages of every description which he might have chosen to order out—had, in short, all the "appliances and means to boot," which could be desired or imagined by a gentleman of his station and affluence. Mr. Gammon was, though somewhat stern and plain-spoken, still a most sincere and powerful friend, deeply and disinterestedly solicitous about his interests, and protecting him from villanous and designing adventurers; then he had in prospect the brilliant mazes of fashionable life in town—oh, in the name of everything that this world can produce, and of the feelings it should excite, ought not Titmouse to have enjoyed life—to have been happy? Yet he was not; he felt, quite independently of any constraint occasioned by the presence of Mr. Gammon, full of deplorable and inexpressible wearisomeness, which nothing could alleviate, but the constant use of cigars, and brandy and water. On the first Sunday after the departure of Fitz-Snooks, Titmouse was prevailed upon to accompany the devout and exemplary Gammon to church; where, barring a good many ill-concealed yawns and constant fidgetiness, he conducted himself with tolerable decorum. Yet still the style of his dress, his air, and his countenance, filled the little congregation with feelings of great astonishment, when they thought that that was the new Squire of Yatton, and for a moment contrasted him with his simple and dignified predecessor, Mr. Aubrey. As for the worthy vicar, Dr. Tatham, Gammon resolved to secure his good graces, and succeeded. He called upon the worthy vicar soon after having heard from Titmouse, of his, Yahoo's, and Fitz-Snooks' encounter with Dr. Tatham; and expressed profound concern on being apprised of the rude treatment which he had encountered. There was a gentleness and affability—tempering at once and enhancing his evident acuteness and knowledge of the world—which quite captivated the little doctor. But, above all, the expressions of delicate sympathy and regret with which he now and then alluded to the late occupants of Yatton, and towards whom the stern requisitions of professional duty had caused him to play so odious a part, and his minute inquiries about them, drew out almost all that was in the little doctor's heart concerning his departed friends. Gammon gazed with deep interest at the old blind staghound, and feeble old Peggy; and seemed never tired of hearing the doctor's little anecdotes concerning them. He introduced Titmouse to the vicar; and, in his presence, Gammon declared his (Titmouse's) hatred and contempt for the two fellows who were with him when first he saw Dr. Tatham; who thereupon banished from his heart all recollection of the conduct which had so deeply hurt his feelings. Gammon, on another occasion, infinitely delighted the doctor by calling on a Monday morning, and alluding with evident interest and anxiety to certain passages in his sermon of the day before, and which led to a very lengthened and interesting discussion. In consequence of what then transpired, the doctor suddenly bethought himself of routing out an old sermon, which he had once preached before the judges of assize:—and during the week he touched it up with a good deal of care for the ensuing Sunday—when he had the satisfaction of observing the marked and undeviating attention with which Mr. Gammon sat listening to him; and that candid inquirer after truth afterwards stepped into the little vestry and warmly complimented the doctor upon his very satisfactory and masterly discourse. Thus it was that Dr. Tatham came to pen a postscript to one of his letters to Mrs. Aubrey, to which I have formerly alluded, and of which said postscript the following is a copy:–

"P. S. By the way, the altered state of things at the Hall, I am of opinion, is entirely owing to the presence and the influence of a Mr. Gammon—one of the chief of Mr. Titmouse's solicitors, and to whom he seems very firmly attached. I have lived too long in the world to form hasty opinions, and am not apt to be deceived in my estimate of mankind; but I must say, I consider Mr. Gammon to be a very superior man, as well in character and intellect, as in acquirements. He possesses great acuteness and knowledge of the world, general information, a very calm and courteous address—and above and beyond all, is a man of very enlightened religious feeling. He comes constantly to church, and presents a truly edifying example to all around, of decorum and attention. You would be delighted to hear the discussions we have had on points which my sermons have suggested to him. He is really an uncommonly acute man, and I assure you it requires some little logical skill to contend with him in argument. I preached a sermon lately, specially aimed at him, which, thank God! I have every reason to believe has been attended with happy effects, and allayed some startling doubts which had been for years tormenting him. I am sure that my dear friend" (i. e. Mr. Aubrey) "would be delighted with him. I had myself, I assure you, to overcome a very strong prejudice against him—a thing I always love to attempt, and have in a measure, in the present instance, succeeded. He speaks of you all frequently, with evident caution, but at the same time with the deepest respect and sympathy."

This postscript it was, which, as I have already intimated, suggested to Mr. Aubrey to seek the interview with Gammon which has been described, and during which it was frequently present to his mind.

While, however, under the pressure of Mr. Gammon's benumbing presence and authority, Titmouse was for a brief while leading this sober retired life at Yatton—why, he hardly knew, except that Gammon willed it—a circumstance occurred which suddenly placed him on the very highest pinnacle of popularity in metropolitan society. I hardly know how to suppress my feelings of exultation, in retracing the rapid steps by which Mr. Titmouse was transformed into a Lion of the first magnitude. Be it known that there was a Mr. Bladdery Pip, a fashionable novelist, possessed of most extraordinary versatility and power; for he had at the end of every nine months, during the last nine years, produced a novel in three volumes—each succeeding one eclipsing the splendor of its predecessor, (in the judgment of the accomplished and disinterested newspaper critics)—in the "masterly structure of the plot"—the "vivid and varied delineation of character"—the "profound acquaintance with the workings of the human heart"—"exquisite appreciation of life in all its endless varieties"—"piercing but delicate satire"—"bold and powerful denunciations of popular vices"—"rich and tender domestic scenes"—"inimitable ease and grace"—"consummate tact and judgment"—"reflection coextensive with observation"—"the style flowing, brilliant, nervous, varied, picturesque," et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. We have, in the present day, thank Heaven! at least two or three hundred such writers; but at the time about which I am speaking, Mr. Bladdery Pip was pretty nearly alone in his glory. Such was the man, to whose trading brain it suddenly occurred, on glancing over the newspaper report of the trial of Doe on the Demise of Titmouse v. Jolter, to make the interesting facts of the case the basis of a new novel, on quite a new plan, and which was infinitely to transcend all his former works, and, in fact, occasion quite a revolution in that brilliant and instructive species of literature! To work went Mr. Pip, within a day or two after the trial was over, and in an incredibly short space of time had got to the close of his labors. Practice had made him perfect, and given him infinite facility in the production of first-rate writing. The spirited publisher (Mr. Bubble) then quickly set to work to "get the steam up"—but ah! how secretly and skilfully! For some time there appeared numerous intimations in the daily papers, that "the circles of ton" were "on the qui vive" in expectation of a certain forthcoming work, &c. &c. &c.—that "disclosures of a very extraordinary character" were being looked for—"attempts had been made to suppress," &c. &c.—"compromising certain distinguished," &c., and so forth; all these paragraphs being in the unquestionable [!] editorial style, and genuine [!] indications of a mysterious under-current of curiosity and excitement, existing in those regions which were watched with reverential awe and constancy by the occupants of the lower regions. As time advanced, more frequent became these titillations of the public palate—more distinct these intimations of what was going forward, and might be shortly expected, from the appearance of the long-promised work. Take for instance the following, which ran the round of every newspaper, and wrought up to a high pitch the curiosity of three-fourths of the fools in the country:—

"The efforts made to deprive the public of the interesting and peculiar scenes contained in the forthcoming novel, and—in short—to suppress it, have entirely failed, owing to the resolution of the gifted author, and the determination of the spirited publisher; and their only effect has been to accelerate the appearance of the work. It will bear the exciting and piquant title—'Tippetiwink;' and is said to be founded on the remarkable circumstances attending the recent trial of a great ejectment cause at York. More than one noble family's history is believed to be involved in some of the details which will be found in the forthcoming publication, for which, we are assured, there are already symptoms of an unprecedented demand. The 'favored few' who have seen it, predict that it will produce a prodigious sensation. The happy audacity with which facts are adhered to, will, we trust, not lead to the disagreeable consequences that appear to be looked for, in certain quarters, with no little anxiety and dismay. When we announce that its author is the gifted writer of 'The Silver Spoons'—'Spinnach'—'The Pirouette'—'Tittle-Tattle'—'Fitz-Giblets'—'Squint,' &c. &c. &c., we trust we are violating no literary confidence."

There was no resisting this sort of thing. In that day, a skilfully directed play of puffs laid prostrate the whole of the sagacious fashionable world; producing the excitement of which they affected to chronicle the existence. The artilleryman, in the present instance, was, in fact, a hack writer, hired by Mr. Bubble—in fact, kept by him entirely—to perform services of this degrading description—and he sat from morning to night in a back-room on Mr. Bubble's premises, engaged in spinning out these villanous and lying paragraphs concerning every work published, or about to be published, by Mr. Bubble. Then that gentleman hit upon another admirable device. He had seven hundred copies printed off; and allowing a hundred for a first edition, he varied the title-pages of each of the remaining six hundred by the words: "Second Edition"—"Third Edition"—"Fourth Edition"—"Fifth Edition"—"Sixth Edition"—and "Seventh Edition."

By the time, however, that the fourth edition had been announced, there existed a real rage for the book. The circulating libraries at the West End of the town were besieged by applicants for a perusal of the work; and "notices," "reviews," and "extracts," began to make their appearance with increasing frequency in the newspapers. The idea of the work was admirable. Tippetiwink, the hero, was a young gentleman of ancient family—an only child—kidnapped away in his infancy by the malignant agency of "the demon Mowbray," a distant relative, of a fierce temper and wicked character, who by these means had succeeded to the enjoyment of the estate, and would have come, in time, to the honors and domains of the most ancient and noble family in the kingdom, that of the Earl of Frizzleton. Poor Tippetiwink was at length, however, discovered by his illustrious kinsman, by mere accident, in an obscure capacity, in the employ of a benevolent linen-draper, Black-bag, who was described as one of the most amiable and generous of linen-drapers; and, after a series of wonderful adventures, in which the hero displayed the most heroic constancy, the earl succeeded in reinstating his oppressed and injured kinsman in the lofty station which he ought always to have occupied. His daughter—a paragon of female loveliness—the Lady Sapphira Sigh-away—evinced the deepest interest in the success of Tippetiwink; and at length—the happy result may be guessed by the astute and experienced novel-reader. Out of these few and natural incidents, Mr. Bladdery Pip was pronounced at length, by those (i. e. the aforesaid newspaper scribes) who govern, if they do not indeed constitute, PUBLIC OPINION, to have produced an imperishable record of his genius; avoiding all the faults, and combining all the excellences, of all his former productions. The identity between Titmouse and Tippetiwink, Lord Dreddlington and Lord Frizzleton, Lady Cecilia and Lady Sapphira, and Mr. Aubrey and the "demon Mowbray," was quickly established. The novel passed speedily into the tenth edition! An undoubted, and a very great sensation was produced; extracts descriptive of the persons, particularly that of Titmouse, and the earl, and Lady Cecilia, figuring in the story, were given in the London papers, and thence transferred into those all over the country. The very author of the book, Mr. Bladdery Pip, became a prodigious LION, and dressing himself in the most elaborate and exquisite style, had his portrait, looking most intensely intellectual, prefixed to the tenth edition. Then came portraits of "Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq.," (for which he had never sat,) giving him large melting eyes, a very pensive face, and a most fashionable appearance. The Earl of Dreddlington and Lady Cecilia became also a lion and lioness. Hundreds of opera-glasses were directed, at once, to their opera-box; innumerable were the anxious salutations they received as they drove round the Park—and round it they went three or four times as often as they had ever done before. 'Twas whispered that the king had read the book, and drank the earl's health, under the name of Lord Frizzleton—while the queen did the same for Lady Cecilia as Lady Sapphira. Their appearance produced a manifest sensation at both the levee and drawing-room.—Majesty looked blander than usual as they approached. Poor Lord Dreddlington, and Lady Cecilia, mounted in a trice into the seventh heaven of rapturous excitement; for there was that buoyant quality about their heads which secured them a graceful and rapid upward motion. They were both unutterably happy; living in a gentle delicious tumult of exalted feeling. Irrepressible exultation glistened in the earl's eyes; he threw an infinite deal of blandness and courtesy into his manners wherever he was, and whomsoever he addressed; as if he could now easily afford it, confident in the inaccessible sublimity of his position. It was slightly laughable to observe, however, the desperate efforts he made to maintain his former frigid composure of manner—but in vain; his nervousness looked almost like a sudden, though gentle accession of St. Vitus's dance. Innumerable were the inquiries after Titmouse—his person—his manners—his character—his dress, made of Lady Cecilia by her friends. Young ladies tormented her for his autograph. 'T was with her as if the level surface of the Dead Sea had been stirred by the freshening breeze.

When a thing of this sort is once fairly set going, where is it to end? When fashion does go mad, her madness is wonderful; and she very soon turns the world mad. Presently the young men appeared everywhere in black satin stocks, embroidered, some with flowers, and others with gold, and which went by the name of "Titmouse-Ties;" and in hats, with high crowns and rims a quarter of an inch in depth, called "Tittlebats." All the young blades about town, especially the clerks and shopmen in the city, dressed themselves in the most extravagant style; an amazing impetus was given to the cigar trade—whose shops were crowded, especially at nights; and every puppy that walked the streets puffed cigar-smoke in your eyes. In short, pert and lively Titmice might be seen hopping about the streets in all directions. As for Tag-rag, wonders befell him. A paragraph in a paper pointed him out as the original of Black-bag, and his shop in Oxford Street as the scene of Titmouse's service. Thither quickly poured the tide of fashionable curiosity, and custom. His business was soon trebled. He wore his best clothes every day, and smirked and smiled, and bustled about amid the crowd in his shop, in a perfect fever of excitement. He began to think of buying the adjoining premises, and adding them to his own; and set his name down as a subscriber of a guinea a-year to the "Decayed Drapers' Association." Those were glorious times for Mr. Tag-rag. He was forced to engage a dozen extra hands; there were seldom less than fifty or a hundred persons in his shop at once; strings of carriages stood before his door, sometimes two deep, and continual strugglings occurred between the coachmen for precedence. In fact, Mr. Tag-rag believed that the Millennium (about which he had often heard wonders from Mr. Dismal Horror, who, it seemed, knew all about it—a fact of which he had first persuaded his congregation, and then himself) was coming in earnest.

CHAPTER IX

The undulations of the popular excitement in town, were not long in reaching the calm retreat of Mr. Titmouse in Yorkshire. To say nothing of his having on several occasions observed artists busily engaged in sketching different views of the Hall and its surrounding scenery, and, on inquiry, discovered that they had been sent from London for the express purpose of presenting to the excited public sketches of the "residence of Mr. Titmouse," a copy of the inimitable performance of Mr. Bladdery Pip—viz. "Tippetiwink," (tenth edition) was sent down to Mr. Titmouse by Gammon; who also forwarded to him, from time to time, newspapers containing those paragraphs which identified Titmouse with the hero of the novel, and also testified the profound impression which it was making upon the thinking classes of the community. Was Titmouse's wish to witness the ferment he had so unconsciously produced in the metropolis, unreasonable? Yatton was beginning to look duller daily, even before the arrival of this stimulating intelligence from town; Titmouse feeling quite out of his element. So—Gammon non contradicente—up came Titmouse to town. If he had not been naturally a fool, the notice he attracted in London must soon have made him one. He had been for coming up in a post-chaise and four; but Gammon, in a letter, succeeded in dissuading him from incurring so useless an expense, assuring him that men of even as high consideration as himself, constantly availed themselves of the safe and rapid transit afforded by the royal mail. His valet, on being appealed to, corroborated Mr. Gammon's representations; adding, that the late hour in the evening at which that respectable vehicle arrived in town would effectually shroud him from public observation. Giving strict and repeated orders to his valet to deposit him at once "in a first-rate West-End hotel," the haughty lord of Yatton, plentifully provided with cigars, stepped into the mail, his valet perching himself upon the box-seat. That gifted functionary was well acquainted with town, and resolved on his master's taking up his quarters at the Harcourt Hotel, in the immediate vicinity of Bond Street.