Jacob Faithful

by Frederick Marryat

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

  HIGH LIFE ABOVE STAIRS, A LITTLE BELOW THE MARK--FASHION FRENCH, VIRTUE,AND ALL THAT.

  Six o'clock was now near at hand, and Mrs Turnbull entered thedrawing-room in full dress. She certainly was a very handsome woman,and had every appearance of being fashionable; but it was her languagewhich exposed her. She was like the peacock. As long as she was silentyou could but admire the plumage, but her voice spoilt all. "Now, MrTurnbull," said she, "I wish to _h_explain to you that there are certain_h_improprieties in your behaviour which I cannot put _h_up with,particularly that _h_of talking about when you were before the mast."

  "Well, my dear, is that anything to be ashamed of?"

  "Yes, Mr Turnbull, that _h_is--one _h_always sinks them ere particularsin fashionable society. To wirtuperate in company a'n't pleasant, and_H_i've thought of a plan which may _h_act as an _h_impediment to yourvulgarity. Recollect, Mr T, when_h_ever I say that _H_i've an'eadache, it's to be a sign for you to 'old your tongue; and, Mr T,_h_oblige me by wearing kid gloves all the evening."

  "What! at dinner time, my dear?"

  "Yes, Mr T, at dinner time; your 'ands are not fit to be touched."

  "Well, I recollect when you thought otherwise."

  "When, Mr T? 'ave I not often told you so?"

  "Yes, lately; but I referred to the time when one Poll Bacon of Wappingtook my hand for better or for worse."

  "Really, Mr T, you quite shock me. My name was Mary, and the Baconsare a good old _H_inglish name. You 'ave their _h_arms quartered on thecarriage in right o' me. That's something, I can tell you."

  "Something I had to pay for pretty smartly, at all events."

  "The payment, Mr T, was on account of granting _h_arms to you, whonever _'ad_ any."

  "And never wished for them. What do I care for such stuff?"

  "And when you did choose, Mr Turnbull, you might have consulted me,instead of making yourself the laughing-stock of Sir George Naylor andall the 'eralds. Who but a madman would have chosen three harpoons_saluims_, and three barrels _couchants_, with a spouting whale for acrest? Just to point out to everybody what should _h_ever be buried in_h_oblivion; and then your beastly motto--which I _would have_changed--_`Blubber for ever_!' Blubber indeed! _h_enough to make _h_anyone _blubber_ for ever."

  "Well, the heralds told me they were just what I ought to have chosen,and very apposite, as they termed it."

  "They took your money and laughed at you. Two pair of griffins, a lion,half-a-dozen leopards, and a hand with a dagger, wouldn't 'ave cost afarthing more. But what can you _h_expect from an _'og_?"

  "But if I was _cured_, I should be what you _were--Bacon_."

  "I won't _demean_ myself, Mr Turnbull."

  "That's right, my dear, don't; there's no curing you. Recollect themotto you chose in preference to mine."

  "Well, and a very proper one--`_Too much familiarity breeds contempt_'--is it not so, Master Faithful?"

  "Yes, madam, it was one of our copies at school."

  "I beg your pardon, sir, it was my _h_own _h_invention."

  Rap, tap, rap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

  "Mr and Mrs Peters, of Petercumb Hall," announced the butler. EnterMrs Peters first, a very diminutive lady, and followed by Mr Peters,six feet four inches without his shoes, deduct for stooping and curvedshoulders seven inches. Mr Peters had retired from the Stock Exchangewith a competence, bought a place, named it Petercumb Hall, and set uphis carriage. Another knock, and Mr and Mrs Drummond were announced.Compliments exchanged, and a pastile lighted by Mrs Turnbull.

  "Well, Drummond," said Mr Turnbull, "what are coals worth now?"

  "Mr Turnbull, I've got such an _'eadache_."

  This was of course a matter of condolence from all present, and astopper upon Mr Turnbull's tongue.

  Another sounding rap, and a pause. "Monsieur and Madame de Tagliabuecoming up." Enter Monsieur and Madame de Tagliabue. The former, adapper little Frenchman, with a neat pair of legs, and stomach as roundas a pea. Madame sailing in like an outward-bound East Indiaman, withstudding sails below and aloft; so large in her dimensions, that herhusband might be compared to the pilot-boat plying about her stern.

  "Charmee de vous voir, Madame Tom-bulle. Vous vous portez bien;n'est-ce pas?"

  "_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull, who thus exhausted her knowledge of theFrench language while the Monsieur tried in vain, first on one side, andthen on the other, to get from under the lee of his wife and make hisbow. This was not accomplished until the lady had taken possession of asofa, which she filled most comfortably.

  Who these people were, and how they lived, I never could find out: theycame in a fly from Brentford.

  Another announcement. "My Lord Babbleton and Mr Smith coming up."

  "Mr T, pray go down and receive his lordship. (There are two waxcandles for you to light on the hall table, and you must walk up withthem before his lordship," said the lady aside.)

  "I'll be hanged if I do," replied Mr Turnbull; "let the servants lighthim."

  "O, Mr T, I've such an 'eadache?"

  "So you may have," replied Mr T, sitting down doggedly.

  In the meantime Mr Smith entered, leading Lord Babbleton, a boy oftwelve or thirteen years old, shy, awkward, red-haired, and ugly, towhom Mr Smith was tutor. Mrs T had found out Mr Smith, who wasresiding near Brentford with his charge, and made his acquaintance onpurpose to have a lord on her visiting list, and, to her delight, theleader had not forgotten to bring his bear with him. Mrs Turnbullsprang to the door to receive them, making a prepared courtesy to thearistocratical cub, and then shaking him respectfully by the hand."Won't your lordship walk to the fire? Isn't your lordship cold? Ihope your lordship's sty is better in your lordship's eye. Allow me tointroduce to your lordship's notice Mr and Mrs Peters--Madame andMounsheer Tagleebue--Mr and Mrs Drummond, the Right Honourable LordViscount Babbleton." As for Mr Turnbull and myself, we were left outas unworthy of introduction. "We are ready for dinner, Mr Turnbull."

  "Snobbs, get dinner dressed up," said Mr T to the butler.

  "O, Mr T, I've such an 'eadache."

  This last headache was produced by Mr T forgetting himself, and callingthe butler by his real name, which was Snobbs; but Mrs Turnbull hadresolved that it should be changed to _Mortimer_--or rather, to MrMortimer, as the household were directed to call him, on pain ofexpulsion.

  Dinner was announced. Madame Tagliabue, upon what pretence I know not,was considered the first lady in the room, and Lord Babbleton wasrequested by Mrs Turnbull to hand her down. Madame rose, took hislordship's hand, and led him away. Before they were out of the room,his lordship had disappeared among the ample folds of Madame's gown, andwas seen no more until she pulled him out, on their arrival at thedinner-table. At last we were all arranged according to Mrs Turnbull'swishes, although there were several chops and changes about, until theorder of precedence could be correctly observed. A French cook had beensent for by Mrs Turnbull; and not being mistress of the language, shehad a card with the names of the dishes to refresh her memory, MrMortimer having informed her that such was always the custom among greatpeople, who, not ordering their own dinners, of course they could nottell what there was to eat.

  "Mrs Turnbull, what soup have you there?"

  "_Consummy_ soup, my lord. Will your lordship _make use_ of that or ofthis here, which is _o'juss_."

  His lordship stared, made no answer; looked foolish; and Mr Mortimerplaced some soup before him.

  "Lord Babbleton takes soup," said Mr Smith, pompously; and the littleright honourable supped soup, much to Mrs Turnbull's satisfaction.

  "Madame, do you soup? or do you fish?"

  "Merci, no soup--_poisson_."

  "Don't be afraid, madame; we've a French cook: you won't be _poisoned_here," replied Mrs Turnbull, rather annoyed.

  "Comment, my chere madame, I meant to say dat I prefer de cod."

  "Mr T, some soup for Madame. John, a _clean_ plate for Lord Babbleton.What
will your lordship condescend to _make use_ of now?" (MrsTurnbull thought the phrase, _make use_, excessively refined andelegant.)

  "Ah, madame, votre cuisine est superbe," exclaimed Monsieur Tagliabue,tucking the corner of his napkin into his button-hole, and makingpreparations for well filling his little rotundity.

  "_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull. "Mrs Peters, will you try the dish nextMr Turnbull? What is it?" (_looking at her card_)--"_Agno roty_.Will you, my lord? If your lordship has not yet got into your French--it means roast quarter of lamb."

  "His lordship is very partial to lamb," said Mr Smith, with emphasis.

  "Mr Turnbull, some lamb for Lord Babbleton, and for Mr Peters."

  "Directly, my dear.--Well, Jacob, you see, when I was first mate--"

  "Dear! Mr Turnbull--I've such an 'eadache. Do, pray, cut the lamb.(_Aside_.) Mr Mortimer, do go and whisper to Mr Turnbull that I beghe will put on his gloves."

  "Mrs Peters, you're doing nothing. Mr Mortimer, 'and round the sidedishes, and let John serve out the champagne."

  "Mrs Peters, there's a _wolley went o' weaters_. Will you make use ofsome? Mrs Drummond, will you try the dish coming round? It is--let mesee--_chew farsy_. My Lord Babbleton, I 'ope the lamb's _to yourliking_? Monshere Tagliabue--William, give Monshere a clean plate.What will you take next?"

  "Vraiment, madame, tout est excellent, superbe! Je voudrais embrasservotre cuisinier--c'est un artiste comme il n'y a pas?"

  "_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull.

  The first course was removed; and the second, after some delay, made itsappearance. In the interim, Mr Mortimer handed round one or twovarieties of wine.

  "Drummond, will you take a glass of wine with me?" said Mr Turnbull."I hate your sour French wines. Will you take Madeira? I was on shoreat Madeira once for a few hours, when I was before the mast, in the--"

  "Mr Turnbull, I've such an 'eadache," cried his lady, in an angry tone."My lord, will you take some of this?--it is _ding dong o' turf_--aturkey, my lord."

  "His lordship is fond of turkey," said Mr Smith, dictatorially.

  Monsieur Tagliabue, who sat on the other side of Mrs T, found that theturkey was in request--it was some time before he could help himself.

  "C'est superbe?" said Monsieur, thrusting a truffle into his mouth."Apparemment, madame, n'aime pas la cuisine Anglaise?"

  "_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull. "Madame, what will you be _h_assistedto?" continued Mrs T.

  "Tout de bon, madame."

  "_Ve_; what are those by you, Mr Peters?" inquired the lady incontinuation.

  "I really cannot exactly say; but they are fritters of some sort."

  "Let me see--hoh! bidet du poms. Madame, will you eat some _bidet dupoms_?"

  "Comment, madame, je ne vous comprends pas--"

  "_Ve_."

  "Monsieur Tagliabue, expliquez donc;" said the foreign lady, red as aquarter of beef.

  "Permettez," said Monsieur, looking at the card. "Ah, c'est impossible,ma chere," continued he, laughing. "Madame Turnbull se trompait; ellevoudrait dire _Beignets de pommes_."

  "Vous trouvez notre langue fort difficile, n'est-ce pas?" continuedmadame, who recovered her good humour, and smiled graciously at Mrs T.

  "_Ve_," replied Mrs Turnbull, who perceived that she had made somemistake, and was anxiously awaiting the issue of the dialogue. It had,however, the effect of checking Mrs T, who said little more during thedinner and dessert.

  At last the ladies rose from the dessert, and left the gentlemen at thetable; but we were not permitted to remain long before coffee wasannounced, and we went up stairs. A variety of French liqueurs werehanded about, and praised by most of the company. Mr Turnbull,however, ordered a glass of brandy as a _settler_.

  "Oh! Mr Turnbull, I've such an 'eadache!"

  After that the party became very dull. Lord Babbleton fell asleep onthe sofa. Mr Peters walked round the room, admiring the pictures, andasking the names of the masters.

  "I really quite forget; but, Mr Drummond, you are a judge of paintingsI hear. Who do you think this is painted by?" said the lady, pointingto a very inferior performance. "I am not quite sure; but I think it isVan--Van _Daub_."

  "I should think so too," replied Mr Drummond, drily; "we have a greatmany pictures in England by the same hand."

  The French gentleman proposed _ecarte_, but no one knew how to play itexcept his wife; who sat down with him to pass away the time. Theladies sauntered about the room, looking at the contents of the tables,Mrs Peters occasionally talking of Petercumb Hall; Mr Smith played atpatience in one corner; while Mr Turnbull and Mr Drummond sat inanother in close conversation; and the lady of the house divided herattentions, running from one to the other, and requesting them not totalk so loud as to awake the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Babbleton.At last the vehicles were announced, and the fashionable party broke up,much to the satisfaction of everybody, and to none more than myself.

  I ought to observe that all the peculiar absurdities I have narrated didnot strike me so much at the time; but it was an event to me to dineout, and the scene was well impressed upon my memory. After whatoccurred to me in my after life, and when I became better able to judgeof fashionable pretensions, the whole was vividly brought back to myrecollection.