The Yellowplush Papers
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William Makepeace Thackeray >> The Yellowplush Papers
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13 *END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, charlie@idirect.com.
MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH
by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
CONTENTS
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE
FORING PARTS
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS:--
CHAP. I. The Two Bundles of Hay
II. "Honor thy Father"
III. Minewvring
IV. "Hitting the Nale on the Hedd"
V. The Griffin's Claws
VI. The Jewel
VII. The Consquinsies
VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo
IX. The Marriage
X. The Honey-moon
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW
SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV."
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI
MEMOIRS OF MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND.
CHAPTER I.
I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, and
am, in consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma called me
Charles James Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in compliment to
several noble families, and to a sellybrated coachmin whom she
knew, who wore a yellow livry, and drove the Lord Mayor of London.
Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther the
name of a part of his dress; however, it's stuck to me through
life, in which I was, as it were, a footman by buth.
Praps he was my father--though on this subjict I can't speak
suttinly, for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I may be
illygitmit, I may have been changed at nuss; but I've always had
genlmnly tastes through life, and have no doubt that I come of a
genlmnly origum.
The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old creatur
was very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other goodness in
her. Why, I can't say; but I always passed as her nevyou. We led
a strange life; sometimes ma was dressed in sattn and rooge, and
sometimes in rags and dutt; sometimes I got kisses, and sometimes
kix; sometimes gin, and sometimes shampang; law bless us! how she
used to swear at me, and cuddle me; there we were, quarrelling and
making up, sober and tipsy, starving and guttling by turns, just as
ma got money or spent it. But let me draw a vail over the seen,
and speak of her no more--its 'sfishant for the public to know,
that her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the New Cut.
My poor mother died one morning, Hev,n bless her! and I was left
alone in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as would buy
me a penny roal for my brexfast. But there was some amongst our
naybors (and let me tell you there's more kindness among them poor
disrepettable creaturs, than in half a dozen lords or barrynets)
who took pity upon poor Sal's orfin (for they bust out laffin when
I called her Miss Montmorency), and gev me bred and shelter. I'm
afraid, in spite of their kindness, that my MORRILS wouldn't have
improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But a benny-violent genlmn
saw me, and put me to school. The academy which I went to was
called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less--the young
genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsisnames, a tin
plate on the left arm, and a cap about the size of a muffing. I
stayed there sicks years; from sicks, that is to say, till my
twelth year, during three years of witch I distinguished myself not
a little in the musicle way, for I bloo the bellus of the church
horgin, and very fine tunes we played too.
Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what trix we
used to play the applewoman! and how we put snuff in the old
clark's Prayer-book--my eye!); but one day, a genlmn entered the
school-room--it was on the very day when I went to subtraxion--and
asked the master for a young lad for a servant. They pitched upon
me glad enough; and nex day found me sleeping in the sculry, close
under the sink, at Mr. Bago's country-house at Pentonwille.
Bago kep a shop in Smithfield market, and drov a taring good trade
in the hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he cleared
no less than fifty pounds every year by letting his front room at
hanging time. His winders looked right opsit Newgit, and many and
many dozen chaps has he seen hanging there. Laws was laws in the
year ten, and they screwed chaps' nex for nex to nothink. But my
bisniss was at his country-house, where I made my first ontray into
fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, and stable-boy then, and an't
ashamed to own it; for my merrits have raised me to what I am--two
livries, forty pound a year, malt-licker, washin, silk-stocking,
and wax candles--not countin wails, which is somethink pretty
considerable at OUR house, I can tell you.
I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got me a
very different situation. A handsome young genlmn, who kep a
tilbry and a ridin horse at livry, wanted a tiger. I bid at once
for the place; and, being a neat tidy-looking lad, he took me.
Bago gave me a character, and he my first livry; proud enough I was
of it, as you may fancy.
My new master had some business in the city, for he went in every
morning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, and had it
waiting for him at six; when, if it was summer, he spanked round
into the Park, and drove one of the neatest turnouts there. Wery
proud I was in a gold-laced hat, a drab coat and a red weskit, to
sit by his side, when he drove. I already began to ogle the gals
in the carridges, and to feel that longing for fashionabl life
which I've had ever since. When he was at the oppera, or the play,
down I went to skittles, or to White Condick Gardens; and Mr.
Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, I warrant: to be sure
there is very few man-servants at Pentonwille, the poppylation
being mostly gals of all work; and so, though only fourteen, I was
as much a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem.
But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was such a gay
chap, should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-floor in
John Street--a parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way, and only
came in with his boots and brexfast of a morning.
The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. They were a
poor but proliffic couple, who had rented the place for many years;
and they and their family were squeezed in it pretty tight, I can
tell you.
Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been a
sub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such think; and, as
I heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave on account of his
NERVOUSNESS. He was such a coward, the fact is, that he was
considered dangerous to the harmy, and sent home.
He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss Slamcoe.
She was a Bristol gal; and her father being a bankrup in the
tallow-chandlering way, left, in course, a pretty little sum of
money. A thousand pound was settled on her; and she was as high
and mighty as if it had been a millium.
Buckmaster died, leaving nothink; nothink except four ugly
daughters by Miss Slamcoe: and her forty pound a year was rayther
a narrow income for one of her appytite and pretensions. In an
unlucky hour for Shum she met him. He was a widower with a little
daughter of three years old, a little house at Pentonwille, and a
little income about as big as her own. I believe she bullyd the
poor creature into marridge; and it was agreed that he should let
his ground-floor at John Street, and so add somethink to their
means.
They married; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray mare, I can
tell you. She was always talking and blustering about her famly,
the celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the
Slamcoes. They had a six-roomed house (not counting kitching and
sculry), and now twelve daughters in all; whizz.--4 Miss
Buckmasters: Miss Betsy, Miss Dosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny;
1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum's daughter, and seven others, who
shall be nameless. Mrs. Shum was a fat, red-haired woman, at least
a foot taller than S.; who was but a yard and a half high, pale-
faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose and shut-frill
all brown with snuff.
Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of the famly
was all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that it was obliged
to be done by relays. There was six rails and a stocking on each,
and four small goosbry bushes, always covered with some bit of
linning or other. The hall was a regular puddle: wet dabs of
dishclouts flapped in your face; soapy smoking bits of flanning
went nigh to choke you; and while you were looking up to prevent
hanging yourself with the ropes which were strung across and about,
slap came the hedge of a pail against your shins, till one was like
to be drove mad with hagony. The great slattnly doddling girls was
always on the stairs, poking about with nasty flower-pots, a-
cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seats with greasy
curl-papers, reading greasy novels. An infernal pianna was
jingling from morning till night--two eldest Miss Buckmasters,
"Battle of Prag"--six youngest Miss Shums, "In my Cottage," till I
knew every note in the "Battle of Prag," and cussed the day when
"In my Cottage" was rote. The younger girls, too, were always
bouncing and thumping about the house, with torn pinnyfores, and
dogs-eard grammars, and large pieces of bread and treacle. I never
see such a house.
As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did nothink
but lay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, scold,
scream, and go into hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading an old
newspaper from weeks' end to weeks' end, when he was not engaged in
teaching the children, or goin for the beer, or cleanin the shoes:
for they kep no servant. This house in John Street was in short a
regular Pandymony.
What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell in such a
place? The reason is hobvius: he adoared the fust Miss Shum.
And suttnly he did not show a bad taste; for though the other
daughters were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a pretty
little pink, modest creatur, with glossy black hair and tender blue
eyes, and a neck as white as plaster of Parish. She wore a dismal
old black gownd, which had grown too short for her, and too tight;
but it only served to show her pretty angles and feet, and bewchus
figger. Master, though he had looked rather low for the gal of his
art, had certainly looked in the right place. Never was one more
pretty or more hamiable. I gav her always the buttered toast left
from our brexfust, and a cup of tea or chocklate, as Altamont might
fancy: and the poor thing was glad enough of it, I can vouch; for
they had precious short commons up stairs, and she the least of
all.
For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub the
poor thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always at
her. It was, Mary, git the coal-skittle; Mary, run down to the
public-house for the beer; Mary, I intend to wear your clean
stockens out walking, or your new bonnet to church. Only her poor
father was kind to her; and he, poor old muff! his kindness was of
no use. Mary bore all the scolding like a hangel, as she was: no,
not if she had a pair of wings and a goold trumpet, could she have
been a greater hangel.
I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when Master
was in the city; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I happened
to be listening on the stairs. The old scolding was a-going on,
and the old tune of that hojus "Battle of Prag." Old Shum made
some remark; and Miss Buckmaster cried out, "Law, pa! what a fool
you are!" All the gals began laffin, and so did Mrs. Shum; all,
that is, excep Mary, who turned as red as flams, and going up to
Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two such wax on her great red ears
as made them tingle again.
Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger. Her
great arms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cuffed and
thumped poor Mary for taking her pa's part. Mary Shum, who was
always a-crying before, didn't shed a tear now. "I will do it
again," she said, "if Betsy insults my father." New thumps, new
shreex; and the old horridan went on beatin the poor girl till she
was quite exosted, and fell down on the sophy, puffin like a
poppus.
"For shame, Mary," began old Shum; "for shame, you naughty gal,
you! for hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating your
kind sister."
"Why, it was because she called you a--"
"If she did, you pert miss," said Shum, looking mighty dignitified,
"I could correct her, and not you."
"You correct me, indeed!" said Miss Betsy, turning up her nose, if
possible, higher than before; "I should like to see you erect me!
Imperence!" and they all began laffin again.
By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her exsize,
and she began to pour in HER wolly. Fust she called Mary names,
then Shum.
"Oh, why," screeched she, "why did I ever leave a genteel famly,
where I ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a creatur like
this? He is unfit to be called a man, he is unworthy to marry a
gentlewoman; and as for that hussy, I disown her. Thank heaven she
an't a Slamcoe; she is only fit to be a Shum!"
"That's true, mamma," said all the gals; for their mother had
taught them this pretty piece of manners, and they despised their
father heartily: indeed, I have always remarked that, in famlies
where the wife is internally talking about the merits of her
branch, the husband is invariably a spooney.
Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the sofy, at her
old trix--more screeching--more convulshuns: and she wouldn't stop,
this time, till Shum had got her half a pint of her old remedy,
from the "Blue Lion" over the way. She grew more easy as she
finished the gin; but Mary was sent out of the room, and told not
to come back agin all day.
"Miss Mary," says I,--for my heart yurned to the poor gal, as she
came sobbing and miserable down stairs: "Miss Mary," says I, "if I
might make so bold, here's master's room empty, and I know where
the cold bif and pickles is." "Oh, Charles!" said she, nodding her
head sadly, "I'm too retched to have any happytite." And she flung
herself on a chair, and began to cry fit to bust.
At this moment who should come in but my master. I had taken hold
of Miss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I should have kist it,
when, as I said, Haltamont made his appearance. "What's this?"
cries he, lookin at me as black as thunder, or as Mr. Phillips as
Hickit, in the new tragedy of MacBuff.
"It's only Miss Mary, sir," answered I.
"Get out, sir," says he, as fierce as posbil; and I felt somethink
(I think it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and found
myself, nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets
and things.
The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, as I was
cussin and crying out. "It's only Charles, ma," screamed out Miss
Betsy.
"Where's Mary?" says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy.
"She's in Master's room, miss," said I.
"She's in the lodger's room, ma," cries Miss Shum, heckoing me.
"Very good; tell her to stay there till he comes back." And then
Miss Shum went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing of
Haltamont's return.
. . . . . .
I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after Mary
Shum; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake that he
took and kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the sake of
love, which is above being mersnary, fourteen shillings a wick was
a LITTLE too strong for two such rat-holes as he lived in. I do
blieve the famly had nothing else but their lodger to live on: they
brekfisted off his tea-leaves, they cut away pounds and pounds of
meat from his jints (he always dined at home), and his baker's bill
was at least enough for six. But that wasn't my business. I saw
him grin, sometimes, when I laid down the cold bif of a morning, to
see how little was left of yesterday's sirline; but he never said a
syllabub: for true love don't mind a pound of meat or so hextra.
At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals; Miss
Betsy, in partickler, grew mighty fond of him: they sat, for whole
evenings, playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her
tea and muffing; but as it was improper for her to come alone, she
brought one of her sisters, and this was genrally Mary,--for he
made a pint of asking her, too,--and one day, when one of the
others came instead, he told her, very quitely, that he hadn't
invited her; and Miss Buckmaster was too fond of muffings to try
this game on again: besides, she was jealous of her three grown
sisters, and considered Mary as only a child. Law bless us! how
she used to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play "Meet Me by
Moonlike," on an old gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head:
but he wouldn't have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere.
One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for
"Ashley's," and proposed to take the two young ladies--Miss Betsy
and Miss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me aside that
afternoon, assuming a solamon and misterus hare, "Charles," said
he, "ARE YOU UP TO SNUFF?"
"Why sir," said I, "I'm genrally considered tolerably downy."
"Well," says he, "I'll give you half a suffering if you can manage
this bisness for me; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. When the
theatre is over, you must be waitin with two umbrellows; give me
one, and hold the other over Miss Buckmaster: and, hark ye, sir,
TURN TO THE RIGHT when you leave the theater, and say the coach is
ordered to stand a little way up the street, in order to get rid of
the crowd."
We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit
Cartliche's hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble! talk
of Magreedy! Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in the
principal part. But this is nothink to the porpus. When the play
was over, I was at the door with the umbrellos. It was raining
cats and dogs, sure enough.
Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his arm, and Miss
Betsy following behind, rayther sulky. "This way, sir," cries I,
pushin forward; and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy, fit to
smother her. Mr. A. and Miss Mary skipped on and was out of sight
when Miss Betsy's cloak was settled, you may be sure.
"They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the
street, away from the crowd of carridges." And off we turned TO
THE RIGHT, and no mistake.
After marchin a little through the plash and mud, "Has anybody seen
Coxy's fly?" cries I, with the most innocent haxent in the world.
"Cox's fly!" hollows out one chap. "Is it the vaggin you want?"
says another. "I see the blackin wan pass," giggles out another
gentlmn; and there was such a hinterchange of compliments as you
never heerd. I pass them over though, because some of 'em were not
wery genteel.
"Law, miss," said I, "what shall I do? My master will never
forgive me; and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a coach." Miss
Betsy was just going to call one when I said that; but the coachman
wouldn't have it at that price, he said, and I knew very well that
SHE hadn't four or five shillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in the
midst of that tarin rain, at midnight, we had to walk four miles,
from Westminster Bridge to Pentonwille; and what was wuss, I DIDN'T
HAPPEN TO KNOW THE WAY. A very nice walk it was, and no mistake.
At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My master was
at the garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms, while
master begun cussin and swearing at me for disobeying his orders,
and TURNING TO THE RIGHT INSTEAD OF TO THE LEFT! Law bless me! his
hacting of hanger was very near as natral and as terrybl as Mr.
Cartlich's in the play.
They had waited half an hour, he said, in the fly, in the little
street at the left of the theater; they had drove up and down in
the greatest fright possible; and at last came home, thinking it
was in vain to wait any more. They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and
roast oysters for supper, and this consoled her a little.
I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for HER share in
this adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and I do
believe is hignorant to this day of our little strattygim. Besides,
all's fair in love; and, as my master could never get to see her
alone, on account of her infernal eleven sisters and ma, he took
this opportunity of expressin his attachment to her.
If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid it him
back again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were as
tender as two tuttle-doves--which fully accounts for the axdent
what happened to me, in being kicked out of the room: and in course
I bore no mallis.
I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master was in
love with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down to his
parlor as much as ever.
Now comes the sing'lar part of my history.
CHAPTER II.
But who was this genlmn with a fine name--Mr. Frederic Altamont? or
what was he? The most mysterus genlmn that ever I knew. Once I
said to him on a wery rainy day, "Sir, shall I bring the gig down
to your office?" and he gave me one of his black looks and one of
his loudest hoaths, and told me to mind my own bizziness, and
attend to my orders. Another day,--it was on the day when Miss
Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face,--Miss M., who adoared him, as I
have said already, kep on asking him what was his buth, parentidg,
and ediccation. "Dear Frederic," says she, "why this mistry about
yourself and your hactions? why hide from your little Mary"--they
were as tender as this, I can tell you--"your buth and your
professin?"
I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was ONLY listening, and he
said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, "Mary," said he, "if you
love me, ask me this no more: let it be sfishnt for you to know
that I am a honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery
for you to larn, must hang over all my actions--that is from ten
o'clock till six."
They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and mysterus
way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said; for them houses
in Pentonwille have only walls made of pasteboard, and you hear
rayther better outside the room than in. But, though he kep up his
secret, he swore to her his affektion this day pint blank. Nothing
should prevent him, he said, from leading her to the halter, from
makin her his adoarable wife. After this was a slight silence.
"Dearest Frederic," mummered out miss, speakin as if she was
chokin, "I am yours--yours for ever." And then silence agen, and
one or two smax, as if there was kissin going on. Here I thought
it best to give a rattle at the door-lock; for, as I live, there
was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the stairs!
It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the bed-
rum window, had seen my master come in, and coming down to tea half
an hour afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old Mrs. Shum, who
was a dragon of vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs, panting and
frowning, as fat and as fierce as a old sow at feedin time.
"Where's the lodger, fellow?" says she to me.
I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street--"If you mean,
ma'am, my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, esquire, he's just stept
in, and is puttin on clean shoes in his bedroom."
She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening the
parlor-door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary a-
drooping down her head like a pale lily.
"Did you come into my famly," says she, "to corrupt my daughters,
and to destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal? Did you come
here, sir, as a seducer, or only as a lodger? Speak, sir, speak!"--
and she folded her arms quite fierce, and looked like Mrs. Siddums
in the Tragic Mews.
"I came here, Mrs. Shum," said he, "because I loved your daughter,
or I never would have condescended to live in such a beggarly hole.
I have treated her in every respect like a genlmn, and she is as
innocent now, ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry
me, I am ready; if she'll leave you, she shall have a home where
she shall be neither bullyd nor starved: no hangry frumps of
sisters, no cross mother-in-law, only an affeckshnat husband, and
all the pure pleasures of Hyming."
Mary flung herself into his arms--"Dear, dear Frederic," says she,
"I'll never leave you."
"Miss," says Mrs. Shum, "you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster,
thank God. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and
he may insult me--brave me--trample on my feelinx in my own house--
and there's no-o-o-obody by to defend me."
I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and
she began screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the
eleven gals and old Shum. There was a pretty row. "Look here,
sir," says she, "at the conduck of your precious trull of a
daughter--alone with this man, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows
what besides."
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