 | People I have met, or, Pictures of society and people of mark, drawn under a thin veil of fiction |  |
BROWN'S DAY WITH THE MIMPSON'S.
We got down from an omnibus in Charing-Cross.
“Sovereign or ha'penny?” said the cad, rubbing the coin between
his thumb and finger.
“Sovereign of course!” said B— confidently, pocketing
the change which the man had ready for the emergency in a bit
of brown paper.
It was a muggy, misty, London twilight. I was coming up to
town from Blackheath, and in the crowded vehicle had chanced
to encounter my compatriot B— (call it Brown), who had
been lionizing the Thames tunnel. In the course of conversation,
it came out that we were both on the town for our dinner; and, as
we were both guests at the Traveller's Club, we had pulled the
omnibus-string at the nearest point, and, after the brief dialogue
recorded above, strolled together down Pall-Mall.
As we sat waiting for our fish, one of us made a remark as to
the difference of feel between gold and copper coin, and Brown,
fishing in his pocket for money to try the experiment, discovered
that the doubt of the cad was well founded, for he had unconsciously
passed a halfpenny for a sovereign.
“People are very apt to take your coin at your own valuation!”
they are in the dark as to your original coinage (as the English
are with regard to Americans abroad), it as easy to pass for gold
as for copper. Indeed, you may pass for both in a day, as I have
lately had experience. Remind me presently to tell you how.
Here comes the fried sole, and it's troublesome talking when
there are bones to fight shy of—the `flow of sole' to the contrary
notwithstanding.”
I will take advantage of the hiatus to give the reader a slight
idea of my friend, as a preparation for his story.
Brown was the “mirror of courtesy.” He was also the mirror
of vulgarity. And he was the mirror of everything else. He
had that facility of adaptation to the society he was in, which
made him seem born for that society, and that only; and, without
calculation or forethought—by an unconscious instinct, indeed—he
cleverly reflected the man and manners before him.
The result was a popularity of a most varied quality. Brown
was a man of moderate fortune and no profession. He had
travelled for some years on the continent, and had encountered
all classes of Englishmen, from peers to green-grocers; and, as he
had a visit to England in prospect, he seldom parted from the
most chance acquaintance without a volunteer of letters of introduction,
exchange of addresses, and similar tokens of having
“pricked through his castle wall.” When he did arrive in London,
at last, it was with a budget like the postman's on Valentine's
day, and he had only to deliver one letter in a score to be
put on velvet in any street or square within the bills of mortality.
Sagacious enough to know that the gradations of English society
have the facility of a cat's back (smooth enough from the head
downward), he began with a most noble duke, and at the date of
the patricians of May Fair.
Presuming that you see your man, dear reader, let us come at
once to the removal of the cloth.
“As I was calling myself to account, the other day, over my
breakfast,” said Brown, filling his glass and pushing the bottle,
“it occurred to me that my round of engagements required some
little variation. There's a `toujours perdrix,' even among lords
and ladies, particularly when you belong as much to their sphere,
and are as likely to become a part of it, as the fly revolving in
aristocratic dust on the wheel of my lord's carriage. I thought,
perhaps, I had better see some other sort of people.
“I had, under a presse-papier on the table, about a hundred
letters of introduction—the condemned remainder, after the
selection, by advice, of four or five only. I determined to cut
this heap like a pack of cards, and follow up the trump.
“`John Mimpson, Esq., House of Mimpson and Phipps,
Mark's Lane, London.'
“The gods had devoted me to the acquaintance of Mr. (and
probably Mrs.) John Mimpson. After turning over a deal of
rubbish in my mind, I remembered that the letter had been given
me five years before by an American merchant—probably the
correspondent of the firm in Mark's Lane. It was a sealed letter,
and said in brackets on the back, `Introducing Mr. Brown.'
I had a mind to give it up and cut again, for I could not guess on
what footing I was introduced, nor did I know what had become
of the writer—nor had I a very clear idea how long a letter of
recommendation will hold its virtue. It struck me again that
these difficulties rather gave it a zest, and I would abide by the
oracle. I dressed, and, as the day was fine, started to stroll
shop-windows on my way—assuring myself, at least, thus much
of diversion in my adventure.
“Somewhere about two o'clock, I left daylight behind, and
plunged into Mark's Lane. Up one side and down the other—
“Mimpson and Co.' at last, on a small brass plate, set in a green
baize door. With my unbuttoned coat nearly wiped off my
shoulder by the strength of the pulley, I shoved through, and
emerged in a large room, with twenty or thirty clerks perched on
high stools, like monkeys in a menagerie.
“`First door right!' said the nearest man, without raising his
eyes from the desk, in reply to my inquiry for Mr. Mimpson.
“I entered a closet, lighted by a slanting skylight, in which
sat my man.
“`Mr. John Mimpson?'
“`Mr. John Mimpson!'
“After this brief dialogue of accost, I produced my letter, and
had a second's leisure to examine my new friend while he ran his
eye over the contents. He was a rosy, well-conditioned, tight.
skinned little man, with black hair, and looked like a pear on a
chair. (Hang the bothering rhymes!) His legs were completely
hid under the desk, so that the ascending eye began with his
equatory line, and whether he had no shoulders or no neck, I could
not well decide—but it was a tolerably smooth plane from his
seat to the top curl of his sinciput. He was scrupulously well
dressed, and had that highly washed look which marks the city
man in London—bent on not betraying his `diggins' by his complexion.
“I answered Mr. Mimpson's inquiries about our mutual friend
with rather a hazardous particularity, and assured him he was
years), and conversation warmed between us for ten minutes, till
we were ready to part sworn friends. I rose to go, and the
merchant seemed very much perplexed.
“`To-morrow,' said he, rubbing the two great business bumps
over his eyebrows—`no—yes—that is to say, Mrs. Mimpson—
well, it shall be to-morrow! Can you come out to Rose Lodge,
and spend the day to-morrow?'
“`With great pleasure,' said I, for I was determined to follow
my trump letter to extremities.
“`Mrs. Mimpson,' he next went on to say, as he wrote down
the geography of Rose Lodge—`Mrs. Mimpson expects some
friends to-morrow—indeed, some of her very choice friends. If
you come early, you will see more of her than if you just save your
dinner. Bring your carpet-bag, of course, and stay over night.
Lunch at two—dine at seven. I can't be there to receive you
myself, but I will prepare Mrs. Mimpson to save you all trouble
of introduction. Hampstead road. Good morning, my dear
sir.'
“So, I am in for a suburban bucolie, thought I, as I regained
daylight in the neighborhood of the Mansion House.
“It turned out a beautiful day, sunny and warm; and had I
been sure of my navigation, and sure of my disposition to stay all
night, I should have gone out by the Hampstead coach, and made
the best of my way, carpet-bag in hand. I went into Newman's
for a postchaise, however, and, on showing him the written address,
was agreeably surprised to find he knew Rose Lodge. His boys
had all been there.
“Away I went through the Regent's park, behind the blood-posters,
blue jacket and white hat, and, somewhere about one
at my destination. The postboy was about driving in at the open
gate, but I dismounted and sent him back to the inn to leave his
horses, and then, depositing my bag at the porter's lodge, walked
up the avenue. It was a much finer place, altogether, than I
expected to see.
“Mrs. Mimpson was in the garden. The dashing footman
who gave me the information led me through a superb drawing-room,
and out at a glass door upon the lawn, and left me to make
my own way to the lady's presence.
“It was a delicious spot, and I should have been very glad to
ramble about by myself till dinner, but, at a turn in the grand-walk,
I came suddenly upon two ladies.
“I made my bow, and begged leave to introduce myself as
Mr. Brown.'
“With a very slight inclination of the head, and no smile
whatever, one of the ladies asked me if I had walked from town,
and begged her companion (without introducing me to her) to
show me in to lunch. The spokester was a stout and tall woman,
who had rather an aristocratic nose, and was not handsome, but,
to give her her due, she had made a narrow escape of it. She
was dressed very showily, and evidently had great pretensions;
but, that she was not at all glad to see Mr. Brown, was as apparent
as was at all necessary. As the other, and younger lady,
who was to accompany me, however, was very pretty, though
dressed very plainly, and had, withal, a look in her eye which
assured me she was amused with my unwelcome apparition, I
determined, as I should not otherwise have done, to stay it out,
and accepted her convoy with submissive civility—very much
inclined, however, to be impudent to somebody, somehow.
“The lunch was on a tray in a side-room, and I rang the bell
and ordered a bottle of champagne. The servant looked surprised,
but brought it, and meantime I was getting through the
weather and the other commonplaces, and the lady, saying little,
was watching me very calmly. I liked her looks, however, and
was sure she was not a Mimpson.
“`Hand this to Miss Armstrong!' said I to the footman,
pouring out a glass of champagne.
“`Miss Bellamy, you mean, sir.'
“I rose and bowed, and, with as grave a courtesy as I could
command, expressed my pleasure at my first introduction to Miss
Bellamy—through Thomas, the footman! Miss Bellamy burst
into a laugh, and was pleased to compliment my American manners,
and in ten minutes we were a very merry pair of friends,
and she accepted my arm for a stroll through the grounds, carefully
avoiding the frigid neighborhood of Mrs. Mimpson.
“Of course I set about picking Miss Bellamy's brains for what
information I wanted. She turned out quite the nicest creature
I had seen in England—fresh, joyous, natural, and clever; and, as
I was delivered over to her bodily, by her keeper and feeder, she
made no scruple of promenading me through the grounds till the
dressing bell—four of the most agreeable hours I have to record
in my travels.
“By Miss Bellamy's account, my advent that day was looked
upon by Mrs. Mimpson as an enraging calamity. Mrs. Mimpson
was, herself, fourth cousin to a Scotch lord, and the plague of her
life was the drawback to the gentility of her parties in Mimpson's
mercantile acquaintance. She had married the little man for his
money, and had thought, by living out of town, to choose her
own society, with her husband for her only incumbrance; but
did not house and dine his mercantile fraternity and their envoys
at Rose Lodge, and they had at last compromised the matter.
No Yankee clerk, or German agent, or person of any description,
defiled by trade, was to be invited to the Lodge without a three
days' premonition to Mrs. Mimpson, and no additions were to be
made, whatever, by Mr. M., to Mrs. M's dinners, soirées,
matinées, archery parties, suppers, déjeuners, tableaux, or private
theatricals. This holy treaty, Mrs. Mimpson presumed, was
written `with a gad of steel on a leaf of brass'—inviolable as her
cousin's coat-of-arms.
“But there was still `Ossa on Pelion.' The dinner of that
day had a diplomatic aim. Miss Mimpson (whom I had not yet
seen) was ready to `come out,' and her mother had embarked
her whole soul in the enterprise of bringing about that début at
Almack's. Her best card was a certain Lady S—, who
chanced to be passing a few days in the neighborhood, and this
dinner was in her honor—the company chosen to impress her
with the exclusiveness of the Mimpsons, and the prayer for her
ladyship's influence (to procure vouchers from one of the patronesses)
was to be made, when she was `dieted to their request.'
And all had hitherto worked to a charm. Lady S— had accepted—Ude
had sent his best cook from Crockford's—the
Belgian chargé and a Swedish attaché were coming—the day was
beautiful, and the Lodge was sitting for its picture; and, on the
very morning, when every chair at the table was ticketed and
devoted, what should Mr. Mimpson do, but send back a special
messenger from the city, to say that he had forgotten to mention
to Mrs. M. at breakfast, that he had invited Mr. Brown! Of
course he had forgotten it, though it would have been as much
“To this information, which I give you in a lump, but which
came to light in the course of rather a desultory conversation,
Miss Bellamy thought I had some title, from the rudeness of my
reception. It was given in the shape of a very clever banter, it
is true, but she was evidently interested to set me right with
regard to Mr. Mimpson's good intentions in my behalf, and, as
far as that and her own civilities would do it, to apologise for the
inhospitality of Rose Lodge. Very kind of the girl—for I was
passing, recollect, at a most ha'penny valuation.
“I had made some casual remark touching the absurdity of
Almack's aspirations in general, and Mrs. Mimpson's in particular,
and my fair friend, who of course fancied an Almack's ticket
as much out of Mr. Brown's reach as the horn of the new moon,
took up the defence of Mrs. Mimpson on that point, and undertook
to dazzle my untutored imagination by a picture of this
seventh heaven—as she had heard it described—for, to herself,
she freely confessed, it was not even within the limits of dream-land.
I knew this was true of herself, and thousands of highly-educated
and charming girls in England; but still, looking at
her while she spoke, and seeing what an ornament she would be
to any ballroom in the world, I realized, with more repugnance
than I had ever felt before, the arbitrary barriers of fashion and
aristocracy. As accident had placed me in a position to `look on
the reverse of the shield,' I determined, if possible, to let Miss
Bellamy judge of its color with the same advantage. It is not
often that a plebeian like myself has the authority to
Fillip the stars.'
“We were near the open window of the library, and I stepped
in and wrote a note to Lady — (one of the lady patronesses,
and the kindest friend I have in England), asking for three
vouchers for the next ball. I had had occasion once or twice
before to apply for similar favors, for countrywomen of my
own, passing through London on their travels, and I knew that
her ladyship thought no more of granting them than of returning
bows in Hyde Park. I did not name the ladies for whom the
three tickets were intended, wishing to reserve the privilege of
handing one to Miss Mimpson, should she turn out civil and presentable.
The third, of course, was to Miss Bellamy's chaperon,
whoever that might be, and the party might be extended to a
quartette by the `Monsieur De Trop' of the hour—cela selon.
Quite a dramatic plot—wasn't it?
“I knew that Lady — was not very well, and would be
found at home by the messenger (my post-boy), and there was
time enough between soup and coffee to go to London and back,
even without the spur in his pocket.
“The bell rang, and Miss Bellamy took herself off to dress.
I went to my carpet bag in the bachelor quarters of the house,
and through a discrect entretien with the maid who brought me
hot water, became somewhat informed as to my fair friend's position
in the family. She was the daughter of a gentleman who
had seen better days. They lived in a retired cottage in the
neighborhood; and, as Miss Bellamy and a younger sister were
both very highly accomplished, they were usually asked to the
Lodge, whenever there was company to be entertained with their
music.
“I was early in the drawing-room, and found there Mrs.
Mimpson and a tall dragoon of a young lady I presumed to be her
my salutary salaam when Miss Bellamy came in opportunely,
and took me off their hands, and, as they addressed no conversation
to us, we turned over music, and chatted in the corner while
the people came in. It was twilight in the reception-room, and
I hoped, by getting on the same side of the table with Lady
S— (whom I had the honor of knowing), to escape recognizance
till we joined the ladies in the drawing-room after dinner.
As the guests arrived, they were formally introduced to Miss
Mimpson by the mother, and everybody but myself was formally
presented to Lady S—, the exception not noticeable, of course,
among thirty people. Mr. Mimpson came late from the city,
possibly anxious to avoid a skirmish on the subject of his friend
Brown, and he entered the room barely in time to hand Lady
S— in to dinner.
“My tactics were ably seconded by my unconscious ally. I
placed myself in such a position at table, that, by a little management,
I kept Miss Bellamy's head between me and Lady
S—, and my name was not so remarkable as to draw attention
to me when called on to take wine with the peccant spouse of the
Scotch lord's cousin. Meantime I was very charmingly entertained—Miss
Bellamy not having, at all, the fear of Mrs. Mimpson
before her eyes, and apparently finding the Yankee supercargo,
or cotton clerk, or whatever he might be, quite worth trying her
hand upon. The provender was good, and the wine was enough
to verify the apocrypha—at least for the night—`a man remembering
neither sorrow nor debt' with such glorious claret.
“As I was vis-a-vis to Miss Mimpson, and only two plates
removed from her mother, I was within reach of some syllable or
some civility, and one would have thought that good breeding
own roof by invitation; but the large eyes of Miss Aurelia and
her mamma passed over me as if I had on the invisible ring of
Gyges. I wonder, by-the-way, whether the ambitious youths
who go to London and Paris with samples, and come back and
sport `the complete varnish of a man' acquired in foreign society
—I wonder whether they take these rubs to be part of their
polishing!
“The ladies rose and left us, and as I had no more occasion
to dodge heads, or trouble myself with humility, I took Lady
S—'s place at old Mimpson's right hand, and was immediately
recognized with great empressement by the Belgian chargé, who
had met me `very often, in very agreeable society.' Mimpson
stared, and evidently took it for a bit of flummery or a mistake;
but he presently stared again, for the butler came in with a coronetted
note on his silver tray, and the seal side up, and presented
it to me with a most deferential bend of his white coat.
I felt the vouchers within, and pocketed it without opening, and
we soon after rose and went to the drawing-room for our coffee.
“Lady S— sat with her back to the door, beseiged by Mrs.
Mimpson; and, at the piano, beside Miss Bellamy, who was preparing
to play, stood one of the loveliest young creatures possible
to fancy. A pale and high-bred looking lady in widow's weeds
sat near them, and I had no difficulty in making out who were
the after-dinner additions to the party. I joined them, and was
immediately introduced by Miss Bellamy to her mother and
sister, with whom (after a brilliant duet by the sisters) I strolled
out upon the lawn for an hour—for it was a clear night, and the
moon and soft air almost took me back to Italy. And (perhaps
in my acquaintance with her mother and sister.
“My new friends returned to the drawing-room, and, as the
adjoining library was lighted, I went in and filled up the blank
vouchers with the names of Mrs. Bellamy and her daughters. I
listened a moment to the conversation in the next room. The
subject was Almack's, and was discussed with great animation.
Lady S—, who seemed to me trying to escape the trap they
had baited for her, was quietly setting forth the difficulties of
procuring vouchers, and recommending to Mrs. Mimpson not to
subject herself to the mortification of a refusal. Old Mimpson
backed up this advice with a stout approval, and this brought
Mrs. Mimpson out `horse and foot,' and she declared that she
would submit to anything, do anything, give anything, rather
than fail in this darling object of her ambition. She would feel
under eternal inexpressible obligations to any friend who would
procure, for herself and daughter, admission for but one night to
Almack's.
“And then came in the sweet voice of Miss Bellamy, who
`knew it was both wrong and silly, but she would give ten years
of her life to go to one of Almack's balls, and, in a long conversation
she had had with Mr. Brown on the subject that morning—'
“`Ah!' interrupted Lady S—, `if it had been the Mr.
Brown, you would have had very little trouble about it.'
“`And who is the Mr. Brown?' asked Mrs. Mimpson.
“`The pet and protegé of the only lady patroness I do not
visit,' said Lady S—, and unluckily, too, the only one who
thinks the vouchers great rubbish, and gives them away without
thought or scruple.'
“At that moment I entered the room.
“`Good heavens!' screamed Lady S—, `is that his
ghost? Why, Mr. Brown!' she gasped, giving me her hand
very cautiously, `do you appear when you are talked of, like—
like—like—'
“`Like the devil? No! But I am here in the body, and
very much at your ladyship's service,' said I, `for of course you
are going to the Duke's to-night, and so am I. Will you take me
with you, or shall my po-sha follow where I belong—in your
train?”
“`I'll take you, of course,' said her ladyship, rising, `but first
about these vouchers. You have just come, and didn't hear our
discussion. Mrs. Mimpson is extremely anxious that her
daughter should come out at Almack's, and, as I happened to
say, the moment before you entered, you are the very person
to procure the tickets from Lady—. How very odd that
you should come in just then! But tell us—can you?'
“A dead silence followed the question. Mrs. Mimpson sat
with her eyes on the floor, the picture of dismay and mortification.
Miss Mimpson blushed and twisted her handkerchief, and Miss
Bellamy looked at her hostess, half amused and half distressed.
“I handed the three vouchers to Miss Bellamy, and begged
her acceptance of them, and then, turning to Lady S—,
without waiting for a reply, regretted that, not having had the
pleasure of being presented to Miss Mimpson, I had not felt
authorised to include her in my effort to oblige Miss Bellamy.
“And, what with old Mimpson's astonishment, and Lady
S—'s immediate tact in covering, by the bustle of departure,
what she did not quite understand, though she knew it was some
awkward contre-temps or other, I found time to receive Miss
arrange this unexpected party, and, in ten minutes, I was on my
way to London with Lady S—, amusing her almost into fits
with my explanations of the Mimpson mystery.
“Lady S— was to be still at Hampstead for a few days,
and, at my request, she called with me on the Bellamys, and
invited the girls up to town. Rose Bellamy, the younger, is at
this moment one of the new stars of the season accordingly, and
Miss Bellamy and I carry on the war, weekly, at Almack's, and
nightly at some wax-light paradise or other, and Lady S—
has fallen in love with them both, and treats them like daughters.
“So you see, though I passed for a ha'penny with the Mimpson's,
I turned out a sovereign to the Bellamys.
“Pass the bottle!”
| People I have met, or, Pictures of society and people of mark, drawn under a thin veil of fiction | |