Having the misfortune to treat of none but common people, is
necessarily of a mean and vulgar character
IN THAT QUARTER OF LONDON in which Golden Square is situated, there is a
bygone, faded, tumble-down street, with two irregular rows of tall meagre
houses, which seem to have stared each other out of countenance, years ago. The
very chimneys appear to have grown dismal and melancholy, from having had
nothing better to look at than the chimneys over the way. Their tops are
battered, and broken, and blackened with smoke; and, here and there, some taller
stack than the rest, inclining heavily to one side, and toppling over the roof,
seems to mediate taking revenge for half a century's neglect, by crushing the
inhabitants of the garrests beneath.
The fowls who peck about the kennels, jerking their bodies hither and thither
with a gait which none but town fowls are ever seen to adopt, and which any
country cock or hen would be puzzled to understand, are perfectly in keeping
with the crazy habitations of their owners. Dingy, ill-plumed, drowsy
flutterers, sent, like many of the neighbouring children, to get a livelihood in
the streets, they hop, from stone to stone, in forlorn search of some hidden
eatable in the mud, and can scarcely raise a crow among them. The only one with
anything approaching to a voice, is an aged bantam at the baker's; and even he
is hoarse, in consequence of bad living in his last place.
To judge from the size of the houses, they have been, at one time, tenanted
by persons of better condition than their present occupants; but they are now
let off, by the week, in floors or rooms, and every door has almost as many
plates or belf-handles as there are apartments within. The windows are, for the
same reason, sufficiently diversified in appearance, being ornamented with every
variety of common blind and curtain that can easily be imagined; while every
doorway is blocked up, and rendered nearly impassable, by a motley collection of
children and porter pots of all sizes, from the baby in arms and the half-pint
pot, to the full-grown girl and half-gallon can.
In the parlour of one of these houses, which was perhaps a thought dirtier
than any of its neighbours; which exhibited more bell-handles, children, and
porter pots, and caught in all its freshness the first gust of the thick black
smoke that poured forth, night and day, from a large brewery hard by; hung a
bill, announcing that there was yet one room to let within its walls, though on
what story the vacant room could be--regard being had to the outward tokens of
many lodgers which the whole front displayed, from the mangle in the kitchen
window to the flower-pots on the parapet--it would have been beyond the power of
a calculating boy to discover.
The common stairs of this mansion were bare and carpetless; but a curious
visitor who had to climb his way to the top, might have observed that there were
not wanting indications of the progressive poverty of the inmates, although
their rooms were shut. Thus, the first-floor lodgers, being flush of furniture,
kept an old mahogany table--real mahogany--on the landing-place outside, which
was only taken in, when occasion required. On the second story, the spare
furniture dwindled down to a couple of old deal chairs, of which one, belonging
to the back-room, was shorn of a leg, and bottomless. The story above, boasted
no greater excess than a worm-eaten wash-tub; and the garret landing-place
displayed no costlier articles than two crippled pitchers, and some broken
blacking-bottles.
It was on this garret landing-place that a hard-featured square-faced man,
elderly and shabby, stopped to unlock the door of the front attic, into which,
having surmounted the task of turning the rusty key in its still more rusty
wards, he walked with the air of legal owner.
This person wore a wig of short, coarse, red hair, which he took off with his
hat, and hung upon a nail. Having adopted in its place a dirty cotton nightcap,
and groped about in the dark till he found a remnant of candle, he knocked at
the partition which divided the two garrets, and inquired, in a loud voice,
whether Mr Noggs had a light.
The sounds that came back were stifled by the lath and plaster, and it seemed
moreover as though the speaker had uttered them from the interior of a mug or
other drinking vessel; but they were in the voice of Newman, and conveyed a
reply in the affirmative.
`A nasty night, Mr Noggs!' said the man in the nightcap, stepping in to light
his candle.
`Does it rain?' asked Newman.
`Does it?' replied the other pettishly. `I am wet through.'
`It doesn't take much to wet you and me through, Mr Crowl,' said Newman,
laying his hand upon the lappel of his threadbare coat.
`Well; and that makes it the more vexatious,' observed Mr Crowl, in the same
pettish tone.
Uttering a low querulous growl, the speaker, whose harsh countenance was the
very epitome of selfishness, raked the scanty fire nearly out of the grate, and,
emptying the glass which Noggs had pushed towards him, inquired where he kept
his coals.
Newman Noggs pointed to the bottom of a cupboard, and Mr Crowl, seizing the
shovel, threw on half the stock: which Noggs very deliberately took off again,
without saying a word.
`You have not turned saving, at this time of day, I hope?' said Crowl.
Newman pointed to the empty glass, as though it were a sufficient refutation
of the charge, and briefly said that he was going downstairs to supper.
`To the Kenwigses?' asked Crowl.
Newman nodded assent.
`Think of that now!' said Crowl. `If I didn't--thinking that you were certain
not to go, because you said you wouldn't--tell Kenwigs I couldn't come, and make
up my mind to spend the evening with you!'
`I was obliged to go,' said Newman. `They would have me.'
`Well; but what's to become of me?' urged the selfish man, who never thought
of anybody else. `It's all your fault. I'll tell you what--I'll sit by your fire
till you come back again.'
Newman cast a despairing glance at his small store of fuel, but, not having
the courage to say no--a word which in all his life he never had said at the
right time, either to himself or anyone else--gave way to the proposed
arrangement. Mr Crowl immediately went about making himself as comfortable, with
Newman Nogg's means, as circumstances would admit of his being made.
The lodgers to whom Crowl had made allusion under the designation of `the
Kenwigses,' were the wife and olive branches of one Mr Kenwigs, a turner in
ivory, who was looked upon as a person of some consideration on the premises,
inasmuch as he occupied the whole of the first floor, comprising a suite of two
rooms. Mrs Kenwigs, too, was quite a lady in her manners, and of a very genteel
family, having an uncle who collected a water-rate; besides which distinction,
the two eldest of her little girls went twice a week to a dancing school in the
neighbourhood, and had flaxen hair, tied with blue ribbons, hanging in luxuriant
pigtails down their backs; and wore little white trousers with frills round the
ankles--for all of which reasons, and many more equally valid but too numerous
to mention, Mrs Kenwigs was considered a very desirable person to know, and was
the constant theme of all the gossips in the street, and even three or four
doors round the corner at both ends.
It was the anniversary of that happy day on which the Church of England as by
law established, had bestowed Mrs Kenwigs upon Mr Kenwigs; and in grateful
commemoration of the same, Mrs Kenwigs had invited a few select friends to cards
and a supper in the first floor, and had put on a new gown to receive them in:
which gown, being of a flaming colour and made upon a juvenile principle, was so
successful that Mr Kenwigs said the eight years of matrimony and the five
children seemed all a dream, and Mrs Kenwigs younger and more blooming than on
the very first Sunday he had kept company with her.
Beautiful as Mrs Kenwigs looked when she was dressed though, and so stately
that you would have supposed she had a cook and housemaid at least, and nothing
to do but order them about, she had a world of trouble with the preparations;
more, indeed, than she, being of a delicate and genteel constitution, could have
sustained, had not the pride of housewifery upheld her. At last, however, all
the things that had to be got together were got together, and all the things
that had to be got out of the way were got out of the way, and everything was
ready, and the collector himself having promised to come, fortune smiled upon
the occasion.
The party was admirably selected. There were, first of all, Mr Kenwigs and
Mrs Kenwigs, and four olive Kenwigses who sat up to supper; firstly, because it
was but right that they should have a treat on such a day; and secondly, because
their going to bed, in presence of the company, would have been inconvenient,
not to say improper. Then, there was a young lady who had made Mrs Kenwigs's
dress, and who--it was the most convenient thing in the world--living in the
two-pair back, gave up her bed to the baby, and got a little girl to watch it.
Then, to match this young lady, was a young man, who had known Mr Kenwigs when
he was a bachelor, and was much esteemed by the ladies, as bearing the
reputation of a rake. To these were added a newly-married couple, who had
visited Mr and Mrs Kenwigs in their courtship; and a sister of Mrs Kenwigs's,
who was quite a beauty; besides whom, there was another young man, supposed to
entertain honourable designs upon the lady last mentioned; and Mr Noggs, who was
a genteel person to ask, because he had been a gentleman once. There were also
an elderly lady from the back-parlour, and one more young lady, who, next to the
collector, perhaps was the great lion of the party, being the daughter of a
theatrical fireman, who `went on `in the pantomime, and had the greatest turn
for the stage that was ever known, being able to sing and recite in a manner
that brought the tears into Mrs Kenwigs's eyes. There was only one drawback upon
the pleasure of seeing such friends, and that was, that the lady in the
back-parlour, who was very fat, and turned of sixty, came in a low book-muslin
dress and short kid gloves, which so exasperated Mrs Kenwigs, that that lady
assured her visitors, in private, that if it hadn't happened that the supper was
cooking at the back-parlour grate at that moment, she certainly would have
requested its representative to withdraw.
`My dear,' said Mr Kenwigs, `wouldn't it be better to begin a round game?'
`Kenwigs, my dear,' returned his wife, `I am surprised at you. Would you
begin without my uncle?'
`I forgot the collector,' said Kenwigs; `oh no, that would never do.'
`He's so particular,' said Mrs Kenwigs, turning to the other married lady,
`that if we began without him, I should be out of his will for ever.'
`Dear!' cried the married lady.
`You've no idea what he is,' replied Mrs Kenwigs; `and yet as good a creature
as ever breathed.'
`The kindest-hearted man as ever was,' said Kenwigs.
`It goes to his heart, I believe, to be forced to cut the water off, when the
people don't pay,' observed the bachelor friend, intending a joke.
`George,' said Mr Kenwigs, solemnly, `none of that, if you please.'
`It was only my joke,' said the friend, abashed.
`George,' rejoined Mr Kenwigs, `a joke is a wery good thing--a wery good
thing--but when that joke is made at the expense of Mrs Kenwigs's feelings, I
set my face against it. A man in public life expects to be sneered at--it is the
fault of his elewated sitiwation, and not of himself. Mrs Kenwigs's relation is
a public man, and that he knows, George, and that he can bear; but putting Mrs
Kenwigs out of the question (if I could put Mrs Kenwigs out of the question on
such an occasion as this), I have the honour to be connected with the collector
by marriage; and I cannot allow these remarks in my--'Mr Kenwigs was going to
say `house,' but he rounded the sentence with `apartments'.
At the conclusion of these observations, which drew forth evidences of acute
feeling from Mrs Kenwigs, and had the intended effect of impressing the company
with a deep sense of the collector's dignity, a ring was heard at the bell.
`That's him,' whispered Mr Kenwigs, greatly excited. `Morleena, my dear, run
down and let your uncle in, and kiss him directly you get the door open. Hem!
Let's be talking.'
Adopting Mr Kenwigs's suggestion, the company spoke very loudly, to look easy
and unembarrassed; and almost as soon as they had begun to do so, a short old
gentleman in drabs and gaiters, with a face that might have been carved out of
lignum vitae, for anything that appeared to the contrary, was led playfully in
by Miss Morleena Kenwigs, regarding whose uncommon Christian name it may be here
remarked that it had been invented and composed by Mrs Kenwigs previous to her
first lying-in, for the special distinction of her eldest child, in case it
should prove a daughter.
`Oh, uncle, I am so glad to see you,' said Mrs Kenwigs, kissing the collector
affectionately on both cheeks. `So glad!'
`Many happy returns of the day, my dear,' replied the collector, returning
the compliment.
Now, this was an interesting thing. Here was a collector of water-rates,
without his book, without his pen and ink, without his double knock, without his
intimidation, kissing--actually kissing--an agreeable female, and leaving taxes,
summonses, notices that he had called, or announcements that he would never call
again, for two quarters' due, wholly out of the question. It was pleasant to see
how the company looked on, quite absorbed in the sight, and to behold the nods
and winks with which they expressed their gratification at finding so much
humanity in a tax-gatherer.
`Where will you sit, uncle?' said Mrs Kenwigs, in the full glow of family
pride, which the appearance of her distinguished relation occasioned.
`Anywheres, my dear,' said the collector, `I am not particular.'
Not particular! What a meek collector! If he had been an author, who knew his
place, he couldn't have been more humble.
`Mr Lillyvick,' said Kenwigs, addressing the collector, `some friends here,
sir, are very anxious for the honour of--thank you--Mr and Mrs Cutler, Mr
Lillyvick.'
`Proud to know you, sir,' said Mr Cutler; `I've heerd of you very often.'
These were not mere words of ceremony; for, Mr Cutler, having kept house in Mr
Lillyvick's parish, had heard of him very often indeed. His attention in calling
had been quite extraordinary.
`George, you know, I think, Mr Lillyvick,' said Kenwigs; `lady from
downstairs--Mr Lillyvick. Mr Snewkes--Mr Lillyvick. Miss Green--Mr Lillyvick. Mr
Lillyvick--Miss Petowker of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. Very glad to make two
public characters acquainted! Mrs Kenwigs, my dear, will you sort the counters?'
Mrs Kenwigs, with the assistance of Newman Noggs, (who, as he performed
sundry little acts of kindness for the children, at all times and seasons, was
humoured in his request to be taken no notice of, and was merely spoken about,
in a whisper, as the decayed gentleman), did as he was desired; and the greater
part of the guests sat down to speculation, while Newman himself, Mrs Kenwigs,
and Miss Petowker of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, looked after the
supper-table.
While the ladies were thus busying themselves, Mr Lillyvick was intent upon
the game in progress, and as all should be fish that comes to a
water-collector's net, the dear old gentleman was by no means scrupulous in
appropriating to himself the property of his neighbours, which, on the contrary,
he abstracted whenever an opportunity presented itself, smiling good-humouredly
all the while, and making so many condescending speeches to the owners, that
they were delighted with his amiability, and thought in their hearts that he
deserved to be Chancellor of the Exchequer at least.
After a great deal of trouble, and the administration of many slaps on the
head to the infant Kenwigses, whereof two of the most rebellious were summarily
banished, the cloth was laid with much elegance, and a pair of boiled fowls, a
large piece of pork, apple-pie, potatoes and greens, were served; at sight of
which, the worthy Mr Lillyvick vented a great many witticisms, and plucked up
amazingly: to the immense delight and satisfaction of the whole body of
admirers.
Very well and very fast the supper went off; no more serious difficulties
occurring, than those which arose from the incessant demand for clean knives and
forks: which made poor Mrs Kenwigs wish, more than once, that private society
adopted the principle of schools, and required that every guest should bring his
own knife, fork, and spoon; which doubtless would be a great accommodation in
many cases, and to no one more so than to the lady and gentleman of the house,
especially if the school principle were carried out to the full extent, and the
articles were expected, as a matter of delicacy, not to be taken away again.
Everybody having eaten everything, the table was cleared in a most alarming
hurry, and with great noise; and the spirits, whereat the eyes of Newman Noggs
glistened, being arranged in order, with water both hot and cold, the party
composed themselves for conviviality; Mr Lillyvick being stationed in a large
armchair by the fireside, and the four little Kenwigses disposed on a small form
in front of the company with their flaxen tails towards them, and their faces to
the fire; an arrangement which was no sooner perfected, than Mrs Kenwigs was
overpowered by the feelings of a mother, and fell upon the left shoulder of Mr
Kenwigs dissolved in tears.
`They are so beautiful!' said Mrs Kenwigs, sobbing.
`Oh, dear,' said all the ladies, `so they are! it's very natural you should
feel proud of that; but don't give way, don't.'
`I can--not help it, and it don't signify,' sobbed Mrs Kenwigs; `oh! they're
too beautiful to live, much too beautiful!'
On hearing this alarming presentiment of their being doomed to an early death
in the flower of their infancy, all four little girls raised a hideous cry, and
burying their heads in their mother's lap simultaneously, screamed until the
eight flaxen tails vibrated again; Mrs Kenwigs meanwhile clasping them
alternately to her bosom, with attitudes expressive of distraction, which Miss
Petowker herself might have copied.
At length, the anxious mother permitted herself to be soothed into a more
tranquil state, and the little Kenwigses, being also composed, were distributed
among the company, to prevent the possibility of Mrs Kenwigs being again
overcome by the blaze of their combined beauty. This done, the ladies and
gentlemen united in prophesying that they would live for many, many years, and
that there was no occasion at all for Mrs Kenwigs to distress herself: which, in
good truth, there did not appear to be; the loveliness of the children by no
means justifying her apprehensions.
`This day eight year,' said Mr Kenwigs after a pause. `Dear me--ah!'
This reflection was echoed by all present, who said `Ah!' first, and `dear
me,' afterwards.
`I was younger then,' tittered Mrs Kenwigs.
`No,' said the collector.
`Certainly not,' added everybody.
`I remember my niece,' said Mr Lillyvick, surveying his audience with a grave
air; `I remember her, on that very afternoon, when she first acknowledged to her
mother a partiality for Kenwigs. "Mother," she says, "I love him."'
`"Adore him," I said, uncle,' interposed Mrs Kenwigs.
`"Love him," I think, my dear,' said the collector, firmly.
`Perhaps you are right, uncle,' replied Mrs Kenwigs, submissively. `I thought
it was "adore."'
`"Love," my dear,' retorted Mr Lillyvick. `"Mother," she says, "I love him!"
"What do I hear?" cries her mother; and instantly falls into strong
conwulsions.'
A general exclamation of astonishment burst from the company.
`Into strong conwulsions,' repeated Mr Lillyvick, regarding them with a rigid
look. `Kenwigs will excuse my saying, in the presence of friends, that there was
a very great objection to him, on the ground that he was beneath the family, and
would disgrace it. You remember, Kenwigs?'
`Certainly,' replied that gentleman, in no way displeased at the
reminiscence, inasmuch as it proved, beyond all doubt, what a high family Mrs
Kenwigs came of.
`I shared in that feeling,' said Mr Lillyvick: `perhaps it was natural;
perhaps it wasn't.'
A gentle murmur seemed to say, that, in one of Mr Lillyvick's station, the
objection was not only natural, but highly praiseworthy.
`I came round to him in time,' said Mr Lillyvick. `After they were married,
and there was no help for it, I was one of the first to say that Kenwigs must be
taken notice of. The family did take notice of him, in consequence, and on my
representation; and I am bound to say--and proud to say--that I have always
found him a very honest, well-behaved, upright, respectable sort of man.
Kenwigs, shake hands.'
`I am proud to do it, sir,' said Mr Kenwigs.
`So am I, Kenwigs,' rejoined Mr Lillyvick.
`A very happy life I have led with your niece, sir,' said Kenwigs.
`It would have been your own fault if you had not, sir,' remarked Mr
Lillyvick.
`Morleena Kenwigs,' cried her mother, at this crisis, much affected, `kiss
your dear uncle!'
The young lady did as she was requested, and the three other little girls
were successively hoisted up to the collector's countenance, and subjected to
the same process, which was afterwards repeated on them by the majority of those
present.
`Oh dear, Mrs Kenwigs,' said Miss Petowker, `while Mr Noggs is making that
punch to drink happy returns in, do let Morleena go through that figure dance
before Mr Lillyvick.'
`No, no, my dear,' replied Mrs Kenwigs, `it will only worry my uncle.'
`It can't worry him, I am sure,' said Miss Petowker. `You will be very much
pleased, won't you, sir?'
`That I am sure I shall' replied the collector, glancing at the punchmixer.
`Well then, I'll tell you what,' said Mrs Kenwigs, `Morleena shall do the
steps, if uncle can persuade Miss Petowker to recite us the Blood-Drinker's
Burial, afterwards.'
There was a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet, at this
proposition; the subject whereof, gently inclined her head several times, in
acknowledgment of the reception.
`You know,' said Miss Petowker, reproachfully, `that I dislike doing anything
professional in private parties.'
`Oh, but not here!' said Mrs Kenwigs. `We are all so very friendly and
pleasant, that you might as well be going through it in your own room; besides,
the occasion--'
`I can't resist that,' interrupted Miss Petowker; `anything in my humble
power I shall be delighted to do.'
Mrs Kenwigs and Miss Petowker had arranged a small programme of the
entertainments between them, of which this was the prescribed order, but they
had settled to have a little pressing on both sides, because it looked more
natural. The company being all ready, Miss Petowker hummed a tune, and Morleena
danced a dance; having previously had the soles of her shoes chalked, with as
much care as if she were going on the tight-rope. It was a very beautiful
figure, comprising a great deal of work for the arms, and was received with
unbounded applause.
`If I was blessed with a--a child--' said Miss Petowker, blushing, `of such
genius as that, I would have her out at the Opera instantly.'
Mrs Kenwigs sighed, and looked at Mr Kenwigs, who shook his head, and
observed that he was doubtful about it.
`Kenwigs is afraid,' said Mrs K.
`What of?' inquired Miss Petowker, `not of her failing?'
`Oh no,' replied Mrs Kenwigs, `but if she grew up what she is now,--only
think of the young dukes and marquises.'
`Very right,' said the collector.
`Still,' submitted Miss Petowker, `if she took a proper pride in herself, you
know--'
`There's a good deal in that,' observed Mrs Kenwigs, looking at her husband.
`I only know--' faltered Miss Petowker,--`it may be no rule to be sure--but I
have never found any inconvenience or unpleasantness of that sort.'
Mr Kenwigs, with becoming gallantry, said that settled the question at once,
and that he would take the subject into his serious consideration. This being
resolved upon, Miss Petowker was entreated to begin the Blood-Drinker's Burial;
to which end, that young lady let down her back hair, and taking up her position
at the other end of the room, with the bachelor friend posted in a corner, to
rush out at the cue `in death expire,' and catch her in his arms when she died
raving mad, went through the performance with extraordinary spirit, and to the
great terror of the little Kenwigses, who were all but frightened into fits.
The ecstasies consequent upon the effort had not yet subsided, and Newman
(who had not been thoroughly sober at so late an hour for a long long time,) had
not yet been able to put in a word of announcement, that the punch was ready,
when a hasty knock was heard at the room-door, which elicited a shriek from Mrs
Kenwigs, who immediately divined that the baby had fallen out of bed.
`Who is that?' demanded Mr Kenwigs, sharply.
`Don't be alarmed, it's only me,' said Crowl, looking in, in his nightcap.
`The baby is very comfortable, for I peeped into the room as I came down, and
it's fast asleep, and so is the girl; and I don't think the candle will set fire
to the bed-curtain, unless a draught was to get into the room--it's Mr Noggs
that's wanted.'
`Me!' cried Newman, much astonished.
`Why, it is a queer hour, isn't it?' replied Crowl, who was not best pleased
at the prospect of losing his fire; `and they are queer-looking people, too, all
covered with rain and mud. Shall I tell them to go away?'
`No,' said Newman, rising. `People? How many?'
`Two,' rejoined Crowl.
`Want me? By name?' asked Newman.
`By name,' replied Crowl. `Mr Newman Noggs, as pat as need be.'
Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried away, muttering that he
would be back directly. He was as good as his word; for, in an exceedingly short
time, he burst into the room, and seizing, without a word of apology or
explanation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot punch from the table, darted
away like a madman.
`What the deuce is the matter with him?' exclaimed Crowl, throwing the door
open. `Hark! Is there any noise above?'
The guests rose in great confusion, and, looking in each other's faces with
much perplexity and some fear, stretched their necks forward, and listened
attentively.
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