JACK BRAG.

VOL. III.

LONDON: PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, Dorset Street, Fleet Street.

JACK BRAG.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

“SAYINGS AND DOINGS,”—“MAXWELL,” &c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON: RICHARD BENTLEY,

NEW BURLINGTON STREET.

1837.

[Pg 1]

CHAPTER I.

When Jack rose from his bed—in which, thanks to the mumbo-jum of Sir Stumpy Dubs, he had slept soundly—his “head ached consumedly,” as Farquhar says, and not only his head but his limbs; for the potent potion which had been administered to him during the evening by his patrician friend, produced in all the joints of the patient that sense of dislocation, of which the reader has previously been apprised, a recovery from which was generally the work of two or three days.

Jack looked out of the window of his room: the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky, and the sea sparkled and glittered in the breeze. Its surface was dotted with small boats hovering [Pg 2]near the shore, on the horizon, larger vessels were gliding up channel, laden with the produce of other climes. Around him the flowers of the hotel’s small garden threw their fragrance, and the birds made the air ring with their melody; but Jack gazed and saw not, listened, and heard not. The events of the preceding afternoon and night were all that he could think of;—the marriage of his mother—the exposure of himself—the subsequent loss of his money—He went to the table upon which he had left his pocket-book, counted the remaining notes which it contained, in order to satisfy himself, most unsatisfactorily, that the defeat he had sustained was real, and not

“The baseless fabric of a vision.”

The evidence was too clear to leave a doubt upon his mind; Jack, however, still consoled himself for the loss, by setting it down as a compromise with the colonel for the maintenance of secrecy with regard to the domestic disclosures to which he had been made a party.

[Pg 3]

Jack indeed had a confused recollection of having enjoined the colonel to the observance of this negative kind of obligation; but none of the circumstances of the past night were very clearly defined in his memory, which had occurred after their return from the library; the general impression upon his mind was, that écarté was a very different game from what it had appeared to be to him when he had last played at it; and there did rest a very powerful conviction in what might be called his memory, that the colonel certainly had had prodigious luck in regard to turning up kings, or holding them, which, except at certain points of the game, everybody knows, is much the same thing: never mind, thought Jack, he cannot in justice to himself admit that he continued to associate and play cards with me till two in the morning if the disclosures which he had heard before ten were in any way derogatory to my character; so, said Jack, rubbing up his hair, “it’s as broad as it’s long,—six one way, and half-a-dozen the other; so there’s no mistake.”

[Pg 4]

But then, putting it thus, as regarded the past, to what had Jack to look forward for the future,—the “immediate future,” if that expression may be permitted. There he was still; domesticated in the house with his detestable father-in-law, whose odious and most unsuitable attentions to his mother seemed likely to fix him as her inseparable companion during their stay. Jack, was most anxious for some “family” conversation, when there were no indifferent auditors of the party. Then came the embarrassment over his mind as to where the people of the house would lay breakfast,—and for how many; whether, in consequence of the unlooked-for association of the previous evening, they would establish a sort of joint-stock tea-and-coffee-company, including the colonel and himself amongst the share-holders, and spread out a table for them all, or find a separate room for Mr. and Mrs. Salmon.

Then how was he to act with regard to the rest of the day? His mother had made a great exertion, for her, to run down and see him; and [Pg 5]although “before company,” her disclosures of private matters was in the highest degree disagreeable, he could not leave her; indeed, self-interest contributed to induce his stay where he was, until he had ascertained from herself how she considered him to stand with regard to the business, which Jack began to remember, somewhat, as it should seem too late, was left by his father entirely at her command, and under her control, in consideration of his having paid large sums for his favourite son during his life-time, and having left him extremely well off at his death; and these considerations were floating in his mind, and his brain, which being very much damaged by the last night’s revelry, were scarcely competent to their arrangement.

It was while he was pondering these, to him, important matters, that he rang his bell to summon the chambermaid, in order to repeat, as usual, his enquiries after his servant and phaeton, &c. &c. “No Monsieur Tonson lived there.”—None of his suite had arrived, and his [Pg 6]clothes were again consigned to the rubbing of the lout who officiated in the capacity of “boots.”

When this essential officer returned with Jack’s “things,” he enquired of him, as being the first authority, if not in rank, at least in priority of appearance, whether colonel Stiffkey was up, and received an answer that sounded sweeter to his ears than the music of the spheres. The colonel had been up and gone two hours at least—he had ordered horses to his britzska, and had proceeded to Hastings.

“For this relief much thanks,” breathed Jack, not in these words, for he perhaps, had never heard them, but in his own pet phrase which I have before noticed, “What an appy release.” It was, indeed, the removal of a mountain’s weight of care and anxiety from his mind; and he was even the more pleased with it, as it seemed to him a sort of attention on the part of his aristocratic friend, that he should leave the only disengaged sitting-room [Pg 7]in the hotel for the special occupation of his family. Whatever the combination of feelings by which he was actuated might have been, he certainly felt a great deal more at his ease than he was when he rose.

While he was dressing, Jack, who though perfectly qualified to ride a winning horse, and although brisk and lively while things went smoothly, was, when a reverse of fortune came, for a short time, and until a fresh change for the better arrived, “right down, and no mistake,”—was, as he would have said, “regularly floored.” It was true the colonel had relieved him from the embarrassment of his society; but it was also true that his mother had formed a connexion which was not to be gotten rid of; a connexion which, besides its unsuitableness and the degradation it entailed upon her, and necessarily upon him, might, and perhaps would, most seriously interfere with his ulterior financial arrangements. If, as it was but too clearly the case, the young shopman [Pg 8]had married his old mistress for the sake of what he could get, there could be little or no doubt that he had contrived to secure to himself the power over the premises, stock, and good-will of the business, which his father had exclusively bequeathed to her without either bar or limitation.

The question then with Jack during the operation of shaving, was, whether to ride the high horse, treat Mr. Salmon de haut en bas, and talk largely and loudly to his mother, or to do what many greater men than he, have done upon similar occasions, make the best of a bad bargain, and conciliate all parties by endeavouring to “put up” his youthful father-in-law, instead of running him down, and so obtain by fair means and honeyed words, that which, he apprehended, he might not so certainly secure by violence or bluster.

It was quite clear from his mother’s manner, that she was determined not only to stand up “for her dear J. S.” but to justify the course of proceeding she herself had adopted; for long before Jack had retired in disgust, in [Pg 9]the evening, the old gentlewoman’s conversation had assumed a very equivocal tone and character—it professed to be extremely good-natured, and even playful, but Jack’s long-felt neglect, and the events of the bridge lay smouldering in her mind ready to blaze up on the first breeze that might spring up in the family. Jack was alive to all this, and so, after a debate with himself of some half hour, he determined upon doing the amiable, apologizing for the warmth of the anger he had expressed at Salmon’s impudent imitation of him, and of adopting a system of conciliation, which, however unsuccessful in the great world of politics, might prove excellent policy in a tallow-chandler’s shop.

Jack, having dressed himself, dressed his face in smiles, and, resolved to be gay and think no more of his defeats, or indeed of any of the numerous unpleasant incidents of the last few days, skipped down stairs to the sitting-room, where he found breakfast all prepared.

On the table lay a note, addressed “——Brag, [Pg 10]Esq.” the writing was unknown to him, but without long poring over it, in order to ascertain the author,—which by opening it at once, he was certain to know—he broke the seal and read.

“Dear Sir, “I passed so bad a night, and suffered so much from head-ache in the morning, that I resolved upon trying what a drive to Hastings would do for me. I have therefore to offer my apologies for not making one of your party at breakfast. I shall return to the hotel to dinner, and bring with me my friend Gunnersbury, whom, as you know, I expected here, and hope to catch him on the road to Hastings. Yours, faithfully, “Herbert Stiffkey.”

“There goes again,” said Jack, “civil note enough, and, as I said before, deuced glad he is gone; but the rest of the letter is no go whatever—coming back to dinner, and with that infernal Gunnersbury—all charged [Pg 11]and loaded with Dover news; the moment he hears my name, which the colonel in course will mention to him, out it will all come. We must manage something—cut and run before that. If all goes smooth in the domestic line, I shall do—go along easy—straight up, right down, and no mistake.—Waiter, where is the lady—Mrs. Salmon—and Mr. Salmon?”

“The lady is gone to bathe, sir,” said the waiter, “and the gentleman is walking up and down in front of the garden.”

“He is, is he?” said Jack; “look sharp and be ready to send in breakfast when we come back. I’ll go join him—I say, slavey, get plenty of fish—eggs—ham—eh?—coffee—tea—eh? and all the etceteras, and no mistake?”

“You got the note, sir?” said the waiter enquiringly.

“All right,” said Jack; and out he marched to join his horror, J. S. When he got within a few yards of him, he hailed him with a “Good morning!” just to try the [Pg 12]temper of his mind, as a captain fires a gun to bring a strange sail to.

“Good morning! sir,” said Salmon coldly, touching his hat.

“Salmon,” said Jack, “give us your hand; don’t be ill-natured. I’m deuced sorry for having flown in that stupid passion last night. I meant nothing, only my blood was up, and no man likes to be mimicked. I spoke sharply; the colonel was there; and—however, I tell you I am deuced sorry, more particularly, you know, considering how we are connected; so let us be friends.”

“Well, John,” said Salmon, in a patronizing tone, “I’m deuced glad to hear this. Titsy and I had a long talk over about last night, and I didn’t think I should have got her even to stop to breakfast this morning; however, now, she’ll be as pleased as I am: I wants no quarrelling I’m sure; what is, is always for the best. The business was all going at sixes and sevens, and she all day fretting and fussing—just miserable: and I’m certain we shall do very well. She is a few years older than [Pg 13]me; but I shall be as old as she some day, if I live long enough; so it’s all one in the end.”

The conclusiveness of Mr. Salmon’s reasoning was not quite evident to his son-in-law, whose real hatred of him seemed to increase in proportion to the civility he felt it politic to bestow upon him.

“I’m sure I’m glad to shake hands,” added Salmon, suiting the action to the word, “and have everything go easy;—and now, if you’ll give me leave, I’ll go down towards the bathing machines, where Titsy has been washing herself, and walk up with her; we two by ourselves; in which case I can tell her what has passed between us now, so that she may come up to you all right and ready to be pleased and goodnatured, and so have no squabbling or bother about what’s past.”

“Do, do,” said Jack—“there’s a good fellow—and I’ll go into the house, and get all things snug and tidy.”

They separated, each to fulfil his intentions—Salmon well pleased with the course Jack [Pg 14]seemed to have adopted, and Jack satisfied at having soothed the “animal” into the belief that he was sincere in his amicable professions. How long the game could be played, or whether Jack could play it better than he played écarté, remains yet to be seen. It is easy to wear smiles, and look smoothly for a short time; but to continue seeming to love that, which one hates, or respect that which we despise, is a most arduous undertaking:—as Tillotson says—“It is hard to act a part long; for where truth is not at the bottom, nature will always be endeavouring to return, and will peep out and betray itself at one time or other.”

By the time Jack had made his arrangements, he beheld the affectionate J. S. and his dear Titsy advancing arm-in-arm from the shore towards the garden-gate of the hotel; and although he had made up his mind to “peace and concord,” there was something so excessively ridiculous in the appearance of his mother so associated with Jem Salmon,—connected too, as they both were in his mind, with [Pg 15]the absurdity of the nicknames which they had endearingly conferred upon each other, that he—he, the object of ridicule in every society with which he mixed, could scarcely restrain a burst of laughter as he watched their progress homeward, marked as it was by numerous little flirting attentions on the part of J. S. and the playful acceptance of them by Titsy. Jack’s disposition to mirth, however, was checked by regret that if she had chosen to follow his advice and marry, she had not united herself to somebody who might have seemed to the world, to have married her for something besides her money. J. S. he could not consider in any other light than

that of a fortune-hunter; and so blind is vanity, or rather, it should be said, so blind is human nature even without vanity, that although his own object for the last four years had been an alliance with a rich wife—he shrank with disgust from a man who had acted precisely upon the same principle, and who only differed from him in his pursuit by having succeeded in it. To be sure, [Pg 16]Jack had the presumption to look for youth and beauty into the bargain, neither of which certainly had fallen to the lot of Mr. Salmon. However, chacun à son goût, J. S. had “eyes, and chose her” as being perhaps, in the words of Butler,

The quotation is somewhat apt, but smelling so dreadfully of the shop, that even if Jack had ever heard of Hudibras, he would not have thought of using it.

“Johnny, my dear,” said Mrs. Salmon, as they entered the house, “now you are my son. J. S. has told me all; and we shall live snug and comfortable, and happy. It’s never no use raking up old grievances, as I always says,—so give me a kiss, and let us be friends.”

Jack did as he was desired, and was bussed accordingly.

[Pg 17]

“I’m quite refreshed by the washing,” said the lady. “The old woman had the deuce and all to do to hold me when the great wave came all over me: I feel it singing in my ears now.”

“Rely upon it,” said Jack, “it’s uncommon healthy.”

“I want J. S. to have a dip before we go,” said Mrs. Salmon, “but he says he’s afraid of the cold. Eh!—where’s your friend the colonel—doesn’t he breakfast with us?”

“No,” said Jack, “he wrote a note to say he was afraid of intruding upon us, and so has gone over to Hastings.”

“Well then now, John,” said Mrs. Salmon, “after breakfast you must show us all the sights—that is, if there are any; and we must go to the library, and go down to the shore and see if we can pick up shells,—Kitty, poor girl, was always a bit of a cocklologist—and so make a day of it; for we must be off to-morrow morning.”

Yes, thought Jack, and a little sooner than that, I promise you.

At this moment commenced the “civil” war [Pg 18]in the family, which was not destined to cease and determine much before midnight. Jack had to conceal his unconquerable detestation of Salmon for twelve or fourteen hours, for the sake of securing the influence which it was but too clear he had obtained over his mother, for the purpose of carrying the point now become doubly important, of obtaining a financial supply from home.

Salmon, who was by no means deficient in cunning, was perfectly aware of the hollowness of the treaty of peace into which his son-in-law and senior had volunteered to enter. The violence of Jack’s manner, and the strength of the language which he had used the night before, in the presence of the colonel, and his subsequent retirement, accompanied by that gentleman, until he and his bride had gone to rest, were all convincing evidences of the real feeling which the little man entertained towards him. Nor were his suspicions of the character of his present conduct in any degree weakened by the fact that Mrs. Salmon had communicated [Pg 19]to him the contents of Jack’s letter from Deal, which concluded with a gentle hint as to the want of funds. These things Mr. Salmon put together in his little mind; so that never did Angelo and St. George equip themselves with masque and foil with a more sincere determination of showing their skill and dexterity, than did these two small creatures after their kind.

The odds, however, were two to one against Jack in this game of finesse, inasmuch as while he was fencing with his direct opponent, he had also to keep his mother in perfect good humour: he was to be affectionate, dutiful, and attentive to her; gratify all her inclinations of seeing and being seen, show her all about the place, and, above all, get her away from it, voluntarily, before the return of Stiffkey and his hateful companion. It was in truth, as dear Sandy says, a difficult game, but Jack always felt himself invincible where women were to be won, or men to be managed; nor, strange to say, did the frequently-repeated failures [Pg 20]which he experienced in both pursuits either damp his ardour, or render him suspicious of his qualifications for one and the other.

Jack’s first object of course now, was, to soothe his two guests; then, if he could, to get his mother alone, try her, on the subject of his own relative position as regarded the shop; and then on the most immediately interesting topic of all, ready money—then to get Salmon into council, already prepossessed by the kindness and civility he had shown him, and which he proposed to observe towards him during the morning, and so, having kept them within doors until the few visiters at the place should have separated in pursuit of their different amusements, then to take them to see all the things which were to be seen, which unless friendship, and affection provide them, are not numerous, and then subsequently, by some stratagem yet undesigned, get them away altogether before sunset.

“The fish,” said Salmon, “is uncommon [Pg 21]good here—so fresh coming right out of the sea.”