“An Englishman’s house is his castle.”
“Not at home,” said her ladyship’s footman, with the usual air of nonchalance, which says, “You know I am lying, but—n’importe!”
“Not at home,” I repeated to myself, as I sauntered from the door in a careless fit of abstractedness. “Not at[Pg 90] Home!”—how universally practised is this falsehood! Of what various, and what powerful import? Is there any one who has not been preserved from annoyance by its adoption? Is there any one who has not rejoiced, or grieved, or smiled, or sighed at the sound of “Not at Home?” No! everybody (that is everybody who has any pretensions to the title of somebody) acknowledges the utility and advantages of these three little words. To them the lady of ton is indebted for the undisturbed enjoyment of her vapours, the philosopher for the preservation of solitude and study, the spendthrift for the repulse of the importunate dun.
It is true that the constant use of this sentence savours somewhat of a false French taste, which I hope never to see engrafted upon our true English feeling. But in this particular who will not excuse this imitation of our refined neighbours? Who will so far give up the enviable privilege of making his house his castle, as to throw open the gates upon the first summons of inquisitive impertinence or fashionable intrusion? The “morning calls” of the dun and the dandy, the belle and the bailiff, the poet and the petitioner, appear to us a species of open hostility carried on against our comfort and tranquillity; and, as all stratagems are fair in war, we find no fault with the ingenious device which fortifies us against these insidious attacks.
While I was engaged in this mental soliloquy, a carriage drove up to Lady Mortimer’s door, and a footman in a most appallingly splendid livery roused me from a reverie by a thundering knock. “Not at Home!” was the result of the application. Half a dozen cards were thrust from the window; and, after due inquiries after her ladyship’s cold, and her ladyship’s husband’s cold, and her ladyship’s lap-dog’s cold, the carriage resumed its course, and so did my cogitations. “What,” said I to myself, “would have been the visitor’s perplexity, if this brief formula were not in use?” She must have got out of her carriage; an exertion which would ill accord with the vis inertiæ[4] (excuse Latin in a schoolboy) of a lady, or she must have given up her[Pg 91] intention of leaving her card at a dozen houses to which she is now hastening, or she must have gone to dinner even later than fashionable punctuality requires! Equally annoying would the visit have proved to the lady of the house. She might have been obliged to throw “The Abbot” into the drawer, or to call the children from the nursery. Is she taciturn? She might have been compelled to converse. Is she talkative? She might have been compelled to hold her tongue: or, in all probability, she sees her friends to-night, and it would be hard indeed if she were not allowed to be “Not at Home” till ten at night, when from that time she must be “At Home” till three in the morning.
A knock again recalled me from my abstraction. Upon looking up, I perceived an interesting youth listening with evident mortification to the “Not at Home” of the porter. “Not at Home!” he muttered to himself, as he retired. “What am I to think? She has denied herself these three days!” and, with a most loverlike sigh, he passed on his way. Here again what an invaluable talisman was found in “Not at Home!” The idol of his affections was perhaps at that moment receiving the incense of adoration from another, possibly a more favoured votary: perhaps she was balancing, in the solitude of her boudoir, between the Vicar’s band and the Captain’s epaulettes; or weighing the merits of Gout with a plum, on the one side, against those of Love with a shilling, on the other. Or, possibly, she was sitting unprepared for conquest, unadorned by cosmetic aid, rapt up in dreams of to-night’s assembly, where her face will owe the evening’s unexpected triumph to the assistance of the morning’s “Not at Home.”
Another knock! Another “Not at Home!” A fat tradesman, with all the terrors of authorized impertinence written legibly on his forehead, was combating with pertinacious resolution the denial of a valet. “The Captain’s not at home,” said the servant. “I saw him at the window,” cried the other. “I can’t help that,” resumed the laced Cerberus, “he’s not at home.”
The foe was not easily repulsed, and seemed disposed to storm. I was in no little fear for the security of “the castle,” but the siege was finally raised. The enemy[Pg 92] retreated, sending forth from his half-closed teeth many threats, intermingled with frequent mention of a powerful ally in the person of Lawyer Shark. “Here,” said I, resuming my meditations, “here is another instance of the utility of my theme. Without it, the noble spirit of this disciple of Mars would have been torn away from reflections on twenty-pounders by a demand for twenty pounds; from his pride in the King’s Commission, by his dread of the King’s Bench. Perhaps he is at this moment entranced in dreams of charges of horse and foot! He might have been roused by a charge for boots and shoes. In fancy he is at the head of serried columns of warriors! His eyes might have been opened upon columns of shillings and pence. In fancy he is disposing of crowns! Horrible thought! he might have been awakened to the recollection that he has not half-a crown in the world!”
I had now reached the door of a friend, whom, to say the truth, I designed to dun for an article. Coming in the capacity of a dun, I ought not to have been surprised that I experienced a dun’s reception. Nevertheless, I was a little nettled at the “Not at Home” of my old friend. “What,” said I, recurring to my former ideas, “what can be Harry’s occupation that he is thus inaccessible? Is he making love, or making verses? Studying Euclid or the Sporting Magazine? Meditating on the trial of the Queen last October, or the trial for King’s next July?” For surely no light cause should induce one Etonian to be “Not at Home” to another.
As is usual with persons in my situation, who are accustomed to speculate upon trifles, from which no fixed principle can be deduced, I negatived the theory of one moment by the practice of the next. For, having returned from my perambulations, I seated myself in my study, with pen, ink, and a sheet of foolscap before me; and, finding myself once more “at Home,” enjoined the servant to remember that I was “Not at Home” for the rest of the day.[Pg 93]