Samuel Warren - Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 2

"I—wish you'd call a coach, or something of that sort, gents.—I'm devilish tired—I am, 'pon my soul!" said Mr. Titmouse, yawning, as he stood on the steps between Quirk and Gammon, waiting for Snap's arrival. He was, in fact, almost beside himself—bursting with excitement; and could not stand still for a moment. Now he whistled loudly, and boldly; then he hummed a bar or two of some low comic song; and repeatedly drew on and off his damp gloves, with an air of petulant impetuosity. Now he ran his hand through his hair with careless grace; and then, with arms folded on his breast for a moment, looked eagerly, but with a would-be languid air, at two or three elegant equipages, which, one by one, with their depressed and disappointed occupants, rolled off. At length, Lord Widdrington, amid a sharp impetuous cry of "Make way for the judge there—make way for my Lord!" appeared in his robes, (holding his three-cornered hat in his hand,) with a wearied air; and passing close by Titmouse, was honored by him with a very fine bow indeed—his Lordship not being, however, in the least aware of the fact—as he passed on to his carriage. The steps were drawn up; the door was closed; and amid a sharp blast of trumpets, the carriage drove slowly off, preceded and followed by the usual attendants. All this pomp and ceremony made a very deep impression upon the mind of Titmouse. "Ah," thought he, with a sudden sigh of mingled excitement and exhaustion—"who knows but I may be a judge some day? It's a devilish pleasant thing, I'm sure! What a fuss he must make wherever he goes! 'Pon my life, quite delightful!" As there was no coach to be had, Mr. Titmouse was forced to walk home, arm-in-arm with Mr. Quirk and Mr. Gammon, and followed, at a little distance, by a knot of persons, acquainted with his name and person, and feeling towards him a strange mixture of emotions—dislike, wonder, contempt, admiration. Goodness gracious! that strange little gentleman was now worth, it was said, ten thousand a-year; and was squire of Yatton!! Old Quirk shook Titmouse's hand with irrepressible enthusiasm, at least a dozen times on their way to the inn; while Gammon now and then squeezed his arm, and spoke, in an earnest tone, of the difficulties yet to be overcome. On reaching the inn, the landlady, who was standing at the door, and had evidently been on the look-out for her suddenly distinguished guest, received him with several profound courtesies, and eager and respectful inquiries about his health, as he had had no luncheon—and asking what he would be pleased to have for his supper. She added, moreover, that fearing his former bedroom might not have been to his mind, she had changed it, and he would that night sleep in the very best she had.

"We must make a night on 't, eh?" quoth Mr. Quirk, with an excited air. His partners assented to it, as did Mr. Titmouse; and cold beef, sausages, fowl, ham, beefsteaks, and mutton-chops, were ordered to be in readiness in half an hour's time. Soon afterwards Mr. Titmouse followed the chambermaid to his new bedroom.

"This is the room we always give to quality folk—when we get them," said she, as she set his candle on the drawers, and looked round the apartment with a little triumph.

"Ah—yes!—'pon my soul—quite right—always do your best for quality!—Lovely gal—eh?" Here he chucked her under the chin, and seemed disposed to imprint a kiss upon her cheek; but, with a "Lord sir—that's not the way quality folks behave!" she modestly withdrew. Titmouse, left alone, first threw himself on the bed; then started off, and walked about; then sat down; then danced about; then took off his coat; then threw himself on the bed again; hummed, whistled, and jumped up again—in a sort of wild ecstasy, or delirium. In short, it was plain that he was not master of himself. In fact, his little mind was agitated by the day's event, like as would be a small green puddle by the road-side, for a while, on a stone being suddenly flung into it by a child. While Messrs. Quirk and Snap were, after their sort, as excited as was even Mr. Titmouse himself, Gammon, retiring to his bedroom, and ordering thither pens, ink, and paper, sat down and wrote the following letter:—

"My Dear Sir,—The very first leisure moment I have, I devote to informing you, as one of the most intimate friends of our highly respected client, Mr. Titmouse, of the brilliant event which has just occurred. After a most severe and protracted struggle of two days, (the Attorney-General having come down special on the other side,) the jury, many of them the chief gentlemen of the county, have within this last hour returned a verdict in favor of our friend, Mr. Titmouse—thereby declaring him entitled to the whole of the estates at Yatton, (ten thousand a-year rent-roll, at least,) and, by consequence, to an immense accumulation of bygone rents, which must be made up to him by his predecessor, who, with all his powerful party, and in spite of the unscrupulous means resorted to to defeat the ends of justice, is dismayed beyond expression at the result of this grand struggle—unprecedented in the annals of modern litigation. The result has given lively satisfaction in these parts—it is plain that our friend Mr. Titmouse will very soon become a great lion in society.

"To you, my dear sir, as an early and valued friend of our interesting client, I sit down to communicate the earliest intelligence of this most important event; and I trust that you will, with our respectful compliments, communicate the happy news to your amiable family—who, I am persuaded, must ever feel a warm interest in our client's welfare. He is now, naturally enough, much excited with his extraordinary good fortune, to which we are only too proud and happy to have contributed by our humble, but strenuous and long-continued exertions. He begs me to express his cordial feelings towards you, and to say that, on his return to town, Satin Lodge will be one of the very first places at which he will call. In the mean time, I beg you will believe me, my dear sir, with the best compliments of myself and partners, yours most sincerely,

"Thomas Tag-Rag, Esq.

&c. &c. &c."

"That, I think, will about do"—quoth Gammon to himself, with a thoughtful air, as, having made an exact copy of the above letter, he sealed it up and directed it. He then came down-stairs to supper, having first sent the letter off to the post-office. What a merry meal was that same supper! Mr. Titmouse, Mr. Quirk, and Mr. Snap, ate almost to bursting; Gammon was more abstinent—but, overpowered by the importunities of his companions, he took a far greater quantity than usual of the bouncing bottled porter, the hard port, and fiery sherry, which his companions drank as if they had been but water. Then came in the spirits—with hot water and cold; and to these all present did ample justice; in fact, it was very hard for any one to resist the other's entreaties. Mr. Gammon in due time felt himself going —but seemed as if, on such an occasion, he had no help for it. Every one of the partners, at different stages of the evening, made— more suo —a speech to Titmouse, and proposed his health; who, of course, replied to each, and drank the health of each. Presently old Quirk sang a comic song, in a very dismal key; and then he and Snap joined in a duet called, " Handcuff v. Halter ;" at which Gammon laughed heartily, and listened with that degree of pleased attention, which showed that he had resolved, for once at least, to abandon himself to the low enjoyment of the passing hour. Then Titmouse began to speak of what he should do, as soon as he had "touched the shiners"—his companions entering into all his little schemes with a sort of affectionate enthusiasm. At length old Mr. Quirk, after by turns laughing, crying, singing, and talking, leaned back in his chair, with his half-emptied tumbler of brandy and water in his hand, and fell fast asleep. Gammon also, in spite of all he could do, began—the deuce take it!—to feel and exhibit the effects of a hasty and hearty meal, and his very unusual potations, especially after such long abstinence and intense anxiety as he had experienced during the previous two days. He had intended to have seen all his companions under the table; but he began gradually to feel a want of control over himself, his thoughts, and feelings, which a little disquieted him, as he now and then caught glimpses of the extent to which it was proceeding. " In vino veritas ," properly translated, means—that when a man is fairly under the influence of liquor, you see a strong manifestation of his real character. The vain man is vainer; the voluble, more voluble; the morose, more morose; the passionate, more passionate; the detractor, more detracting; the sycophant, more sycophantic, and so forth. Now Mr. Gammon was a cold, cautious, long-headed schemer, and as the fumes of liquor mounted up into his head, they did but increase the action and intensity of those qualities for which, when sober, he was so pre-eminently distinguished; only that there was a half-conscious want of coherency and subordination. The impulse and the habit were present; but there seemed also a strange disturbing force: in short—what is the use of disguising matters?—Mr. Gammon was getting very drunk; and he felt very sorry for it—but it was too late. In due time the dismal effort not to appear drunk , ceased—a vast relief! Silent and more silent he became; more and more observant of the motions of Snap and Titmouse; more and more complicated and profound in his schemes and purposes; and at length he felt as if, by some incomprehensible means, he were attempting to take himself in—inveigling himself: at which point, after a vain attempt to understand his exact position, with reference to himself, he slowly, but rather unsteadily, rose from his chair; looked with an unsettled eye at Titmouse for nearly a minute; a queer smile now and then flitted across his features; and he presently rang the bell. Boots having obeyed the summons, Gammon with a turbid brain and cloudy eye followed him to the door, with a most desperate but unavailing effort to walk thither steadily. Having reached his room, he sat down with a sort of suspicion that he had said or done something to commit himself. Vain was the attempt to wind up his watch; and at length he gave it up, with a faint curse. With only one stocking off, conceiving himself to be undressed, after trying four or five times ineffectually to blow out his candle, he succeeded, and got into bed; his head, however, occupying the place assigned to his feet. He lay asleep for about half an hour—and then experienced certain insupportable sensations. He was indeed miserable beyond description; and lost all thoughts of what would become of Titmouse—of Quirk and Snap—in his own most desperate indisposition.