“Perhaps not; because those who have it are content with the importance which it gives to them, and won’t allow the damnable fact; and because those who have it not are always sighing after it, as if it were the only thing worth looking after in this world. But now, I will just tell you what has happened since I last saw you, and then you shall judge.”
As, however, Captain T’s narrative ran to a length of nearly three hours, I shall condense the matter for the information of the reader. It appeared that Mrs T had continued to increase the lengths of her drives in her carriage, the number of her acquaintances, and her manifold expenses, until Mr T had remonstrated in very strong terms. His remonstrances did not, however, meet with the attention which he had expected; and he found out by accident, moreover, that the money with which he had constantly supplied Mrs T, to defray her weekly bills, had been otherwise appropriated; and that the bills for the two last quarters had none of them been paid. This produced an altercation, and a desire on his part to know in what manner these sums had been disbursed. At first the only reply from Mrs T, who considered it advisable to brazen it out, and, if possible, gain the ascendancy which was necessary, was a contemptuous toss of her head, which undulated the three yellow ostrich feathers in her bonnet, as she walked out of the room and entered her carriage. This, to Mr T, who was a matter-of-fact man, was not very satisfactory; he waited perforce until the carriage returned, and then demanded an explicit answer. Mrs T assumed the highest ground, talked about fashionable expenses, her knowledge of what was due to his character, etcetera. Mr T rejoined about necessary expenses, and that it was due to his character to pay his tradesmen’s bills. Mrs T then talked of good-breeding, best society, and her many plaisers, as she termed them; Mr T did not know what many pleasures meant in French; but he thought she had been indulged in as many as most women since they had come down to this establishment. But to the question: why were not the bills paid, and what had she done with the money? Spent it in pin money. Pin money! thirty pounds a-week in pins! it would have bought harpoons enough for a three years’ voyage. She must tell the truth. She wouldn’t tell anything, but called for her salts, and called him a brute. At all events, he wouldn’t be called a fool. He gave her till the next morning to consider of it. The next morning the bills were all sent in as requested, and amounted to six hundred pounds. They were paid and receipted. “Now, Mrs T, will you oblige me by letting me know what you have done with this six hundred pounds?” Mrs T would not—she was not to be treated in that manner. Mr T was not on board a whaler now, to bully and frighten as he pleased. She would have justice done her. Have a separation, alimony, and a divorce. She might have them all if she pleased, but she should have no more money; that was certain. Then she would have a fit of hysterics. So she did, and lay the whole of the day on the sofa, expecting Mr T would pick her up. But the idea never came into Mr T’s head. He went to bed; and feeling restless, he rose very early, and saw from his window a cart drive up to the wall, and the parties who came with it leap over and enter the house, and return carrying to it two large hampers. He snatched up one of his harpoons, walked out the other way, and arrived at the cart just as the hampers had been put in, and they were about to drive off; challenged them, and instead of being answered, the horse was flogged, and he nearly run over. He then let fly his harpoon into the horse, which dropped, and pitched out the two men on their heads insensible; secured them, called to the lodge for assistance, sent for constables, and gave them in charge. They proved to be hampers forwarded by Mr Mortimer, who had been in the habit of so doing for some time. These hampers contained his best wine, and various other articles, which also proved that Mr Mortimer must have had false keys. Leaving the culprits and property in charge of two constables, Mr T returned to the house in company with the third constable; the door was opened by Mr Mortimer, who followed him into his study, told him he should leave the house directly, had always lived with gentlemen before, and requested that he might have what was due to him. Mr T thought the request but reasonable, and therefore gave him in charge of the constable. Mr Snobbs, rather confounded at such ungentlemanly behaviour, was, with the others, marched off to Bow Street. Mr T sends for the other two servants in livery, and assures them that he has no longer any occasion for their services, having the excessive vulgar idea that this peculation must have been known to them. Pays them their wages, requests they will take off their liveries, and leave the house. Both willing. They also had always lived with gentlemen before. Mr T takes the key of the butler’s pantry, that the plate may not consider him too vulgar to remain in the house, and then walks to the stables. Horses neigh, as if to say they are all ready for their breakfasts; but the door locked. Hails the coachman, no answer. Returning from the stables, perceives coachee, rather dusty, coming in at the lodge gate; requests to know why he did not sleep at home and take care of his horses. He was missus’s coachman, not master’s, and could satisfy her, but could not satisfy Mr T; who paid him his wages’s and, deducting his liveries, sent him after the others. Coachee also was very glad to go—had always lived with gentlemen before. Meets the lady’s maid, who tells him Mrs T is much too ill to come down to breakfast. Rather fortunate, as there was no breakfast to be had. Dresses himself, gets into a pair-horse coach, arrives at the White Horse Cellar, swallows his breakfast, goes to Bow Street, commits Mr Mortimer, alias Snobbs, and his confederates for trial. Hires a job-man to bring the horses up for sale, and leaves his carriage at the coachmaker’s. Obtains a temporary footman, and then Mr T returns to his villa. A very good morning’s work. Finds Mrs T up in the parlour, very much surprised and shocked at his conduct—at no Mr Mortimer—at no servants, and indebted to her own maid for a cup of tea. More recriminations—more violence—another threat of alimony, and the carriage ordered, that she may seek counsel. No coachman—no carriage—no horses—no nothing, as her maid declares. Mrs T locks herself up in her room, and another day is passed with as little matrimonial comfort as can be expected.
In the meantime, the news flies in every direction. Brentford is full of it. Mr T had been living too fast—is done up—had been had up at Bow Street—creditors had poured in with bills—servants discharged—carriage and horses seized. Mrs T, poor creature, in hysterics, and nobody surprised at it; indeed, everybody expected it. The Peters of Petercumb Hall heard it, and shook their heads at the many upstarts there were in the world. Mr Smith requested the Right Honourable Lord Viscount Babbleton never to mention to his father the Right Honourable Marquis of Spring-guns, that he had ever been taken to see the Turnbulls or that he, Mr Smith, would infallibly lose his situation in esse, and his living in posse: and Monsieur and Madame Tagliabue were even more astounded; but they felt deeply, and resolved to pay a visit the next morning, at least Monsieur Tagliabue did, and Madame acknowledged to the propriety of it.
The next morning some little order had been restored; the footman hired had been given in charge of a sufficient quantity of plate, the rest had been locked up. The cook was to stay her month; the housemaid had no wish to leave; and as for the lady’s maid, she would remain as long as she could to console her poor mistress, and accept what she was inclined to give her in return, in any way of clothes, dresses, etcetera, although, of course, she could not hurt her character by remaining too long in a family where there was no carriage, or gentlemen out of livery. Still Mr T did obtain some breakfast, and had just finished when Monsieur Tagliabue was announced, and was received.
“Ah! Monsieur T, I hope madame is better. Madame Tagliabue did nothing but cry all last night when she heard the very bad news about de debt, and all dat.”
“Very much obliged to Madame,” replied Turnbull, gruffly; “and now, pray sir, what may be your pleasure?”
“Ah! Monsieur Turnbull, I feel very much for you; but suppose a gentleman no lose his honour, what matter de money?” (Mr Turnbull stared.) “You see, Monsieur Turnbull, honour be everything to a gentleman. If a gentleman owe money to one rascally tradesfellow, and not pay him, dat no great matter; but he always pay de debt of honour. Every gentleman pay dat. Here, Monsieur Turnbull,” (and the little Frenchman pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket), “be a leetle note of Madame Turnbull, which she gave to Madame Tagliabue, in which she acknowledged she owe two hundred pounds for money lost at écarté. Dat you see, Monsieur Turnbull, be what gentlemen call debt of honour, which every gentleman pay, or else he lose de character, and be called one blackguard by all the world. Madame Tagliabue and I too much fond of you and Madame Turnbull not to save your character, and so I come by her wish to beg you to settle this leetle note—this leetle debt of honour;” and Monsieur Tagliabue laid the note on the table, with a very polite bow.
Mr Turnbull examined the note; it was as described by Monsieur Tagliabue. So, thought he, now the whole story’s out; she has been swindled out of her money by this rascally French couple. “Now, Monsieur Tagliabue,” said he, “allow me to put a question or two before I pay this money; and if you answer me sincerely, I shall raise no objection. I think Mrs T has already lost about six hundred pounds at écarté before?” (Monsieur T, who presumed that Mrs Turnbull had made him acquainted with the fact, answered in the affirmative.) “And I think that two months ago she never knew what écarté was.”
“Dat is true; but the ladies are very quick to learn.”
“Well, but now, do you think that, as she knew nothing about the game, and you and your wife are well acquainted with it, it was honourable on your part to allow her to lose so much money!”