This tragic gentleman having conducted me home, continued Sable, I was again deposited among my old acquaintance, the occasional gentlemen, from whose conversation I received much useful knowledge and rational entertainment. But to proceed—.
My next excursion, resumed Sable, was with a person who conducted me from my habitation in Monmouth-Street, to an indifferent apartment in an alley near Chancery-Lane where he adorned himself with the military ensigns, a cockade and sword, and marched with me to a tavern in the city, where being shewn into a room, he left word if any body enquired for an officer, to shew them in to him, and seating himself he drew from his pocket a letter, in which were these words in an excellent woman’s hand.—“Dear cap. —— my papa has received your letter, and tells me he shall meet you at the time and place you have appointed—I shall be impatient to know the result of this interesting conversation, and hope it will prove favourable to you—”. This letter was directed to be left at a coffee-house in the Strand for my companion. He did not wait long before a plain decent looking tradesman was introduced to him—My comrade received him with an affected politeness, which was returned by the stranger, with an aukward civility: being both seated, the coldness of the weather was the first topic of conversation, the tradesman making a sorrowful observation on the dearness of provisions, and that coals were risen that day; the military gentleman joined in lamenting the hardness of the times, and concluded the subject by pitying the poor; the stranger then filled a bumper, and knocking his glass against the captain’s drank to their better acquaintance, which having taken off, Mr. Sirloin, (that being the stranger’s name) after a few minutes silence on both sides, began the discourse, by saying to my companion, that he believed he had received, a letter from him in relation to his daughter Susan. The captain answered, he should make no ceremony in telling him that he professed a regard for the young lady.—Young lady, says Mr. Sirloin, I beg, Sir, you’ll not young lady my daughter.—Susan is a good likely girl for that matter, but as for being a young lady, I don’t know what title she has to that. Indeed her mother, who has had the whole management of her, has always filled the girls head with a parcel of nonsense. Your plain way of thinking, returned the captain, I highly approve, but her education entitles her to.—Ay, interrupted Mr. Sirloin, that was against my will too, but my wife would have it so, and so she was sent to a boarding school; to be sure, continued he, as she was but a half boarder, I came into it for peace and quietness, but if it was to do again—for added he, she has learned nothing but to talk of gentility and fashions, and dancings, and plays, and I don’t know what.—These things, Sir, answered the captain, are accomplishments which are necessary in every woman who has any pretensions to marry genteelly.—Therefore, Sir, returned Mr. Sirloin, unnecessary for my daughter; for I am sure—I don’t know what pretensions she has to think of marrying genteelly, or out of her sphere.—I am a plain man, Sir, as you see, continues he, and to be sure would do every thing for the best for my daughter, and no doubt should like very well to see my daughter made a gentle-woman of; but then, adds he, how it that to be? that’s the question—for my part I don’t see now a days that gentlemen let ’em have ever so good a fortune, are willing to take a girl for love alone—no offence I hope to you, Sir,—By no means Sir, replied the captain, I assure you, Sir, I esteem your sentiments; and though love is the chief ingredient in a happy marriage, yet to make it quite compleat, a little fortune is necessary.—Now I rather think, says Mr. Sirloin, as times go, that fortune is looked upon as the chief ingredient—you’ll excuse me, Sir, I am a blunt man—Pray, Sir, make no apology, replied the captain.—Well, Sir, says Mr. Sirloin, let us now enter upon the business we met upon.—You say you have a regard for my daughter, I suppose you mean love. I do, Sir, answered the captain.—You are an officer, Sir, my daughter tells me.—Yes, Sir, returned the captain, but, to deal ingenuously with you, I am only a younger brother, therefore I can’t boast of any great fortune, a thousand pounds or so, besides my commission,—with which, continues he, I am capable of appearing as a gentleman, and hope I have always acted as such.—A thousand pound, says Mr. Sirloin, is a great deal of money in my opinion; I don’t know what you may think of it: as for your commission, says he, that’s quite out of my way, and therefore I know nothing of it; and now, Sir, continues he, as you have told me who you are, it is but fair that I should tell you who I am.—I am, adds he, a butcher by trade, and by industry and frugality, I make shift to maintain myself and family with what I call credit, for I make it a rule, never to bespeak any thing for myself or any of my family, but what I know I can afford, nor let any thing be wore, or made use of, till I have paid for it.—I pay my landlord his rent every quarter day, and I don’t owe any man a shilling in the world, and so now, Sir, if you like me for a father-in-law, without farther ceremony here’s my hand,—and done’s the word. This close way of doing business, says Sable, I found disconcerted my martial conductor, who evaded closing with the proposal, saying such a thing as marriage, required a little more consideration than a bet at a cock-match or a horse-race.—Why look you, Sir, says Mr. Sirloin, this is my way of doing business; if I see a bullock in the market, which I think is for my purpose, I go and examine him, and if I find that he’ll do, I enquire his price, and if its about the mark, I bid money for him, and if my money is accepted, I have the beast; but if not, we part, and there’s no harm done, you know; now apply that, Sir.—Well, Sir, returned the captain, to make a matter of trade of this affair, as I profess a regard for your daughter, if you will give me a fortune with her I will marry her, notwithstanding the disgrace it will be to my family.—Fortune, Sir! says Mr. Sirloin, what fortune do you expect me to give? I suppose, Sir, says the captain, you intend to give her a fortune equal to her education and appearance in the world.—As for her education and appearance in the world, says Mr. Sirloin, I have told you how that came about, and that it was not my fault, and now I’ll tell you what I’ll give you with her: I’ll spend a few guineas in a wedding dinner with all my heart; but as for fortune, I assure you I have none to give.—You certainly are in jest, Sir, says the captain, as you have educated and drest your daughter in the character of a lady of fortune. Zounds, Sir, says Mr. Sirloin, I tell you my wife has had the whole management of her, and that it is not my fault.—This very thing, adds he, have I told my wife over and over: for, says I, what tradesman do you think will have her, as she will to be sure expect to live in the manner she has been brought up, and if she does not, says I, then she will be unhappy; and what tradesman is there, says I, that can afford, or if he could, wou’d think it proper, to keep her like a lady? and what gentleman, says I, will take a butcher’s daughter without a farthing, only because the girl, says I, has a notion of dress and politeness, as they call it? so that, says I, the girl will be brought up to be fit for nothing, and in the end, says I, turn whore; but it signified nothing; for my wife said her daughter should be brought up and drest as well as Mr. Spigot, the ale-house-man’s daughter, who was no better than she was, and that something might happen.
Here Mr. Sirloin was interrupted by the sudden entrance of the wife of his bosom, who was followed by Miss Sirloin, as I soon found her to be.—The slayer of oxen was at once astonished and intimidated on seeing his wife; Mr. Sirloin, says the lady, on her entrance, I am surprized at your impolitic behaviour. I have heard every word you have said, and any one would imagine you had no more sense that the beasts you kill, to tell a gentleman the circumstances of your family in the manner you have, Mr. Sirloin is a monstrous thing.—Mr. Sirloin declared he had said nothing but the truth, and added that listeners seldom heard any good of themselves. Mrs. Sirloin returned, that he was a poor mean spirited wretch, and had not a grain of ambition in him. Mr. Sirloin replied, he believed it might be better, if some folks had less, and for his part he did not see what business people in his sphere had to do with ambition; for, says he, they are generally getting into some scrape or another.
Miss, during the altercation betwixt her Papa and Mama, had drawn near the captain, who took very little notice of her: Mrs. Sirloin now addressed herself to the captain, and told him, she hoped he would excuse Mr. Sirloin’s want of politeness, and assured him, that though it was true, her daughter was not the largest fortune in the parish, neither was she the least, adding, that as Suky was their only child, she would be entitled to every farthing that would be left on their deaths, and which she durst say would amount to near a hundred pound. To be sure, continues she, if Mr. Sirloin was but a pushing man, he might be able to leave her many hundreds.
Mr. Sirloin said, he understood the captain was in love with Susan, and said he should think with that and the thousand pound he had, they might live very happy. The captain replied, that it was true, he had a great regard for Miss Sirloin, and that his fortune was about a thousand pound; but that as he was of one of the best families in Dorsetshire, it wou’d be a disgrace to it to marry into Mr. Sirloin’s family, unless it was made up by a fortune; and that he had been told Miss Sirloin wou’d be worth a thousand pound, and which by her dress, and the company she kept, he thought could be no less. Mr. Sirloin declared, that whoever said he cou’d give his daughter a thousand pound was a scandalous person; as for her dress and company, do you, speaking to his wife, answer for that.
The waiter now told Mr. Sirloin, a person would be glad to speak to him, and on his going out, Mrs. Sirloin told the captain, that she presumed his intentions had been honourable, and that his addresses had not been made to her daughter altogether for the lucre of gain, the captain protested his love was intirely disinterested; but that he could not on account of his family, think of entering into an alliance with Mr. Sirloin without a fortune.—Mr. Sirloin was now returned, and rubbing his hands, asked if the captain was willing to accept of his daughter or not; the captain strongly urged, that the disgrace it would be to his family would not permit him to engage any farther. Pray, Sir, says Mr. Sirloin, what is this great family you talk so much of?—I am, answered the captain, of the family of the Fortune-hunters, which is as ancient a one as any in the kingdom. Mr. Sirloin asked him if he did not know one John Trott.—The captain upon this appeared extremely confounded, but, stammer’d out he knew no such person; upon this Mr. Sirloin rang the bell, and asked the waiter if he knew that gentleman, pointing to the captain,—yes, replied the waiter, very well, his name is John Trott; he was a footman to ’squire ——, and was discharged for some misdemeanors about half a year ago; and speaking to the new-made captain, said; you know me very well, Mr. Trott, don’t you? the captain replied, he never saw him before to his knowledge.—Come, come, Mr. Trott, says the waiter don’t wink at me, I’ll not see any body imposed upon, I know you very well. Mr. Sirloin’s choler being now raised to the highest degree, he could not contain himself any longer; but pulling off his wig and coat, told my unfortunate companion, that though he had imposed upon him, he would take no advantages of him but wou’d box him fairly; but the martial hero declined the combat; upon which Mr. Sirloin, giving a loose to his hands and feet together, employed them both so fast upon my unluky comrade, that it was hard to determine which of them went the fastest, and my passive conductor seemed resolved to see whether his patience, or Mr. Sirloin’s strength would hold out the longest; and Mr. Sirloin being a corpulent man, was at length obliged to give over his labour for want of breath, and thereby the captain’s principle of non-resistance, obtained a complete victory over the active vigour of the enraged butcher.
Mr. Sirloin, having a little recovered himself from the fatigue the violent exertion of his strength had occasioned, now turned to his wife and daughter, and told the latter, that for the future she should be under his direction, and bid her see that to-morrow, she appeared in the shop as his daughter, with a coloured apron before her, and dispose of those dangling things at her elbows or he’d burn ’em: the two ladies having seen such manifest proofs of Mr. Sirloin’s prowess were intimidated into silence, not even daring to exercise those dreadful weapons their tongues, which were now for the first time, I believed, subdued.
The captain during this had employed himself in wiping the dirt which had been left by Mr. Sirloin’s shoes off him, every now and then saying this was fine treatment for a Gentleman.
Mr. Sirloin now opened the door, and ordered the martial captain to leave the room, who seemed very glad to obey him, Mr. Sirloin complimenting him with two or three very handsome kicks at his departure.
The fruits of this adventure, continued Sable, were pretty equally divided betwixt me and my unfortunate associate, though I believe the marks of Mr. Sirloin’s favours, continued a considerable time longer upon the unsuccessful captain than upon me, a circumstance which instead of creating envy in me, proved rather a matter of consolation.