'He's very fond of whistling,' said Tibbs, with a slight smirk.
'Yes--I ain't,' was the laconic reply.
Mr. John Evenson was in the receipt of an independent income, arising chiefly from various houses he owned in the different suburbs. He was very morose and discontented. He was a thorough radical, and used to attend a great variety of public meetings, for the express purpose of finding fault with everything that was proposed. Mr. Wisbottle, on the other hand, was a high Tory. He was a clerk in the Woods and Forests Office, which he considered rather an aristocratic employment; he knew the peerage by heart, and, could tell you, off-hand, where any illustrious personage lived. He had a good set of teeth, and a capital tailor. Mr. Evenson looked on all these qualifications with profound contempt; and the consequence was that the two were always disputing, much to the edification of the rest of the house. It should be added, that, in addition to his partiality for whistling, Mr. Wisbottle had a great idea of his singing powers. There were two other boarders, besides the gentleman in the back drawing-room--Mr. Alfred Tomkins and Mr. Frederick O'Bleary. Mr. Tomkins was a clerk in a wine-house; he was a connoisseur in paintings, and had a wonderful eye for the picturesque. Mr. O'Bleary was an Irishman, recently imported; he was in a perfectly wild state; and had come over to England to be an apothecary, a clerk in a government office, an actor, a reporter, or anything else that turned up--he was not particular. He was on familiar terms with two small Irish members, and got franks for everybody in the house. He felt convinced that his intrinsic merits must procure him a high destiny. He wore shepherd's-plaid inexpressibles, and used to look under all the ladies' bonnets as he walked along the streets. His manners and appearance reminded one of Orson.
'Here comes Mr. Wisbottle,' said Tibbs; and Mr. Wisbottle forthwith appeared in blue slippers, and a shawl dressing-gown, whistling 'Di piacer.'
'Good morning, sir,' said Tibbs again. It was almost the only thing he ever said to anybody
'How are you, Tibbs?' condescendingly replied the amateur; and he walked to the window, and whistled louder than ever.
'Pretty air, that!' said Evenson, with a snarl, and without taking his eyes off the paper.
'Glad you like it,' replied Wisbottle, highly gratified.
'Don't you think it would sound better, if you whistled it a little louder?' inquired the mastiff.
'No; I don't think it would,' rejoined the unconscious Wisbottle.
'I'll tell you what, Wisbottle,' said Evenson, who had been bottling up his anger for some hours--'the next time you feel disposed to whistle "The Light Guitar" at five o'clock in the morning, I'll trouble you to whistle it with your head out o' window. If you don't, I'll learn the triangle--I will, by--'
The entrance of Mrs. Tibbs (with the keys in a little basket) interrupted the threat, and prevented its conclusion.
Mrs. Tibbs apologised for being down rather late; the bell was rung; James brought up the urn, and received an unlimited order for dry toast and bacon. Tibbs sat down at the bottom of the table, and began eating water-cresses like a Nebuchadnezzar. Mr. O'Bleary appeared, and Mr. Alfred Tomkins. The compliments of the morning were exchanged, and the tea was made.
'God bless me!' exclaimed Tomkins, who had been looking out at the window. 'Here--Wisbottle--pray come here--make haste.'
Mr. Wisbottle started from the table, and every one looked up.
'Do you see,' said the connoisseur, placing Wisbottle in the right position--'a little more this way: there--do you see how splendidly the light falls upon the left side of that broken chimney-pot at No. 48?'
'Dear me! I see,' replied Wisbottle, in a tone of admiration.
'I never saw an object stand out so beautifully against the clear sky in my life,' ejaculated Alfred. Everybody (except John Evenson) echoed the sentiment; for Mr. Tomkins had a great character for finding out beauties which no one else could discover--he certainly deserved it.
'I have frequently observed a chimney-pot in College-green, Dublin, which has a much better effect,' said the patriotic O'Bleary, who never allowed Ireland to be outdone on any point.
The assertion was received with obvious incredulity, for Mr. Tomkins declared that no other chimney-pot in the United Kingdom, broken or unbroken, could be so beautiful as the one at No. 48.
The room-door was suddenly thrown open, and Agnes appeared, leading in Mrs. Bloss, who was dressed in a geranium-coloured muslin gown, and displayed a gold watch of huge dimensions; a chain to match; and a splendid assortment of rings, with enormous stones. A general rush was made for a chair, and a regular introduction took place. Mr. John Evenson made a slight inclination of the head; Mr. Frederick O'Bleary, Mr. Alfred Tomkins, and Mr. Wisbottle, bowed like the mandarins in a grocer's shop; Tibbs rubbed hands, and went round in circles. He was observed to close one eye, and to assume a clock-work sort of expression with the other; this has been considered as a wink, and it has been reported that Agnes was its object. We repel the calumny, and challenge contradiction.
Mrs. Tibbs inquired after Mrs. Bloss's health in a low tone. Mrs. Bloss, with a supreme contempt for the memory of Lindley Murray, answered the various questions in a most satisfactory manner; and a pause ensued, during which the eatables disappeared with awful rapidity.
'You must have been very much pleased with the appearance of the ladies going to the Drawing-room the other day, Mr. O'Bleary?' said Mrs. Tibbs, hoping to start a topic.
'Yes,' replied Orson, with a mouthful of toast.
'Never saw anything like it before, I suppose?' suggested Wisbottle.
'No--except the Lord Lieutenant's levees,' replied O'Bleary.
'Are they at all equal to our drawing-rooms?'
'Oh, infinitely superior!'
'Gad! I don't know,' said the aristocratic Wisbottle, 'the Dowager Marchioness of Publiccash was most magnificently dressed, and so was the Baron Slappenbachenhausen.'
'What was he presented on?' inquired Evenson.
'On his arrival in England.'
'I thought so,' growled the radical; 'you never hear of these fellows being presented on their going away again. They know better than that.'
'Unless somebody pervades them with an apintment,' said Mrs. Bloss, joining in the conversation in a faint voice.
'Well,' said Wisbottle, evading the point, 'it's a splendid sight.'
'And did it never occur to you,' inquired the radical, who never would be quiet; 'did it never occur to you, that you pay for these precious ornaments of society?'
'It certainly HAS occurred to me,' said Wisbottle, who thought this answer was a poser; 'it HAS occurred to me, and I am willing to pay for them.'
'Well, and it has occurred to me too,' replied John Evenson, 'and I ain't willing to pay for 'em. Then why should I?--I say, why should I?' continued the politician, laying down the paper, and knocking his knuckles on the table. 'There are two great principles--demand--'
'A cup of tea if you please, dear,' interrupted Tibbs.
'And supply--'
'May I trouble you to hand this tea to Mr. Tibbs?' said Mrs. Tibbs, interrupting the argument, and unconsciously illustrating it.
The thread of the orator's discourse was broken. He drank his tea and resumed the paper.
'If it's very fine,' said Mr. Alfred Tomkins, addressing the company in general, 'I shall ride down to Richmond to-day, and come back by the steamer. There are some splendid effects of light and shade on the Thames; the contrast between the blueness of the sky and the yellow water is frequently exceedingly beautiful.' Mr. Wisbottle hummed, 'Flow on, thou shining river.'
'We have some splendid steam-vessels in Ireland,' said O'Bleary.
'Certainly,' said Mrs. Bloss, delighted to find a subject broached in which she could take part.
'The accommodations are extraordinary,' said O'Bleary.
'Extraordinary indeed,' returned Mrs. Bloss. 'When Mr. Bloss was alive, he was promiscuously obligated to go to Ireland on business. I went with him, and raly the manner in which t
he ladies and gentlemen were accommodated with berths, is not creditable.'
Tibbs, who had been listening to the dialogue, looked aghast, and evinced a strong inclination to ask a question, but was checked by a look from his wife. Mr. Wisbottle laughed, and said Tomkins had made a pun; and Tomkins laughed too, and said he had not.
The remainder of the meal passed off as breakfasts usually do. Conversation flagged, and people played with their teaspoons. The gentlemen looked out at the window; walked about the room; and, when they got near the door, dropped off one by one. Tibbs retired to the back parlour by his wife's orders, to check the green- grocer's weekly account; and ultimately Mrs. Tibbs and Mrs. Bloss were left alone together.
'Oh dear!' said the latter, 'I feel alarmingly faint; it's very singular.' (It certainly was, for she had eaten four pounds of solids that morning.) 'By-the-bye,' said Mrs. Bloss, 'I have not seen Mr. What's-his-name yet.'
'Mr. Gobler?' suggested Mrs. Tibbs.
'Yes.'
'Oh!' said Mrs. Tibbs, 'he is a most mysterious person. He has his meals regularly sent up-stairs, and sometimes don't leave his room for weeks together.'
'I haven't seen or heard nothing of him,' repeated Mrs. Bloss.
'I dare say you'll hear him to-night,' replied Mrs. Tibbs; 'he generally groans a good deal on Sunday evenings.'
'I never felt such an interest in any one in my life,' ejaculated Mrs. Bloss. A little double-knock interrupted the conversation; Dr. Wosky was announced, and duly shown in. He was a little man with a red face--dressed of course in black, with a stiff white neckerchief. He had a very good practice, and plenty of money, which he had amassed by invariably humouring the worst fancies of all the females of all the families he had ever been introduced into. Mrs. Tibbs offered to retire, but was entreated to stay.
'Well, my dear ma'am, and how are we?' inquired Wosky, in a soothing tone.
'Very ill, doctor--very ill,' said Mrs. Bloss, in a whisper
'Ah! we must take care of ourselves;--we must, indeed,' said the obsequious Wosky, as he felt the pulse of his interesting patient.
'How is our appetite?'
Mrs. Bloss shook her head.
'Our friend requires great care,' said Wosky, appealing to Mrs. Tibbs, who of course assented. 'I hope, however, with the blessing of Providence, that we shall be enabled to make her quite stout again.' Mrs. Tibbs wondered in her own mind what the patient would be when she was made quite stout.
'We must take stimulants,' said the cunning Wosky--'plenty of nourishment, and, above all, we must keep our nerves quiet; we positively must not give way to our sensibilities. We must take all we can get,' concluded the doctor, as he pocketed his fee, 'and we must keep quiet.'
'Dear man!' exclaimed Mrs. Bloss, as the doctor stepped into the carriage.
'Charming creature indeed--quite a lady's man!' said Mrs. Tibbs, and Dr. Wosky rattled away to make fresh gulls of delicate females, and pocket fresh fees.
As we had occasion, in a former paper, to describe a dinner at Mrs. Tibbs's; and as one meal went off very like another on all ordinary occasions; we will not fatigue our readers by entering into any other detailed account of the domestic economy of the establishment. We will therefore proceed to events, merely premising that the mysterious tenant of the back drawing-room was a lazy, selfish hypochondriac; always complaining and never ill. As his character in many respects closely assimilated to that of Mrs. Bloss, a very warm friendship soon sprung up between them. He was tall, thin, and pale; he always fancied he had a severe pain somewhere or other, and his face invariably wore a pinched, screwed-up expression; he looked, indeed, like a man who had got his feet in a tub of exceedingly hot water, against his will.
For two or three months after Mrs. Bloss's first appearance in Coram-street, John Evenson was observed to become, every day, more sarcastic and more ill-natured; and there was a degree of additional importance in his manner, which clearly showed that he fancied he had discovered something, which he only wanted a proper opportunity of divulging. He found it at last.
One evening, the different inmates of the house were assembled in the drawing-room engaged in their ordinary occupations. Mr. Gobler and Mrs. Bloss were sitting at a small card-table near the centre window, playing cribbage; Mr. Wisbottle was describing semicircles on the music-stool, turning over the leaves of a book on the piano, and humming most melodiously; Alfred Tomkins was sitting at the round table, with his elbows duly squared, making a pencil sketch of a head considerably larger than his own; O'Bleary was reading Horace, and trying to look as if he understood it; and John Evenson had drawn his chair close to Mrs. Tibbs's work-table, and was talking to her very earnestly in a low tone.
'I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs,' said the radical, laying his forefinger on the muslin she was at work on; 'I can assure you, Mrs. Tibbs, that nothing but the interest I take in your welfare would induce me to make this communication. I repeat, I fear Wisbottle is endeavouring to gain the affections of that young woman, Agnes, and that he is in the habit of meeting her in the store-room on the first floor, over the leads. From my bedroom I distinctly heard voices there, last night. I opened my door immediately, and crept very softly on to the landing; there I saw Mr. Tibbs, who, it seems, had been disturbed also.--Bless me, Mrs. Tibbs, you change colour!'
'No, no--it's nothing,' returned Mrs. T. in a hurried manner; 'it's only the heat of the room.'
'A flush!' ejaculated Mrs. Bloss from the card-table; 'that's good for four.'
'If I thought it was Mr. Wisbottle,' said Mrs. Tibbs, after a pause, 'he should leave this house instantly.'
'Go!' said Mrs. Bloss again.
'And if I thought,' continued the hostess with a most threatening air, 'if I thought he was assisted by Mr. Tibbs--'
'One for his nob!' said Gobler.
'Oh,' said Evenson, in a most soothing tone--he liked to make mischief--'I should hope Mr. Tibbs was not in any way implicated. He always appeared to me very harmless.'
'I have generally found him so,' sobbed poor little Mrs. Tibbs; crying like a watering-pot.
'Hush! hush! pray--Mrs. Tibbs--consider--we shall be observed-- pray, don't!' said John Evenson, fearing his whole plan would be interrupted. 'We will set the matter at rest with the utmost care, and I shall be most happy to assist you in doing so.' Mrs. Tibbs murmured her thanks.
'When you think every one has retired to rest to-night,' said Evenson very pompously, 'if you'll meet me without a light, just outside my bedroom door, by the staircase window, I think we can ascertain who the parties really are, and you will afterwards be enabled to proceed as you think proper.'
Mrs. Tibbs was easily persuaded; her curiosity was excited, her jealousy was roused, and the arrangement was forthwith made. She resumed her work, and John Evenson walked up and down the room with his hands in his pockets, looking as if nothing had happened. The game of cribbage was over, and conversation began again.
'Well, Mr. O'Bleary,' said the humming-top, turning round on his pivot, and facing the company, 'what did you think of Vauxhall the other night?'
'Oh, it's very fair,' replied Orson, who had been enthusiastically delighted with the whole exhibition.
'Never saw anything like that Captain Ross's set-out--eh?'
'No,' returned the patriot, with his usual reservation--'except in Dublin.'
'I saw the Count de Canky and Captain Fitzthompson in the Gardens,' said Wisbottle; 'they appeared much delighted.'
'Then it MUST be beautiful,' snarled Evenson.
'I think the white bears is partickerlerly well done,' suggested Mrs. Bloss. 'In their shaggy white coats, they look just like Polar bears--don't you think they do, Mr. Evenson?'
'I think they look a great deal more like omnibus cads on all fours,' replied the discontented one.
'Upon the whole, I should have liked our evening very well,' gasped Gobler; 'only I caught a desperate cold which increased my pain dreadfully! I was obliged to have several shower-baths, before I could leave my
room.'
'Capital things those shower-baths!' ejaculated Wisbottle.
'Excellent!' said Tomkins.
'Delightful!' chimed in O'Bleary. (He had once seen one, outside a tinman's.)
'Disgusting machines!' rejoined Evenson, who extended his dislike to almost every created object, masculine, feminine, or neuter.
'Disgusting, Mr. Evenson!' said Gobler, in a tone of strong indignation.--'Disgusting! Look at their utility--consider how many lives they have saved by promoting perspiration.'
'Promoting perspiration, indeed,' growled John Evenson, stopping short in his walk across the large squares in the pattern of the carpet--'I was ass enough to be persuaded some time ago to have one in my bedroom. 'Gad, I was in it once, and it effectually cured ME, for the mere sight of it threw me into a profuse perspiration for six months afterwards.'
A titter followed this announcement, and before it had subsided James brought up 'the tray,' containing the remains of a leg of lamb which had made its debut at dinner; bread; cheese; an atom of butter in a forest of parsley; one pickled walnut and the third of another; and so forth. The boy disappeared, and returned again with another tray, containing glasses and jugs of hot and cold water. The gentlemen brought in their spirit-bottles; the housemaid placed divers plated bedroom candlesticks under the card- table; and the servants retired for the night.
Chairs were drawn round the table, and the conversation proceeded in the customary manner. John Evenson, who never ate supper, lolled on the sofa, and amused himself by contradicting everybody. O'Bleary ate as much as he could conveniently carry, and Mrs. Tibbs felt a due degree of indignation thereat; Mr. Gobler and Mrs. Bloss conversed most affectionately on the subject of pill-taking, and other innocent amusements; and Tomkins and Wisbottle 'got into an argument;' that is to say, they both talked very loudly and vehemently, each flattering himself that he had got some advantage about something, and neither of them having more than a very indistinct idea of what they were talking about. An hour or two passed away; and the boarders and the plated candlesticks retired in pairs to their respective bedrooms. John Evenson pulled off his boots, locked his door, and determined to sit up until Mr. Gobler had retired. He always sat in the drawing-room an hour after everybody else had left it, taking medicine, and groaning.
Works of Charles Dickens (200+ Works) The Adventures of Oliver Twist, Great Expectations, A Christmas Carol, A Tale of Two Cities, Bleak House, David Copperfield & more (mobi) Page 1408