PRtCE TWO SHILLINGS 
 
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 BOOK 
 
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 ^W WV\\\oo^ ^jMOjYA/s-^ .^-— 
 
 THE 
 
 BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 ur 
 
 W. M. THACKERAY, 
 
 Author of "Vauity Fair," " The Newcomes," &c. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 EEADBURT & EVANS, 11, BOUYERIE STREET, 
 
 1855. 
 
 i
 
 LONDON : 
 BRADBCRV AND SVANS, PRINTERS, WmVEl'-niAIVS. 
 
 #
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFATORT REMARKS 1 
 
 CHArXEK I. — THE SNOB PLAYFULLY DEALT WITH 4 
 
 IL — THE SNOB ROYAL 8 
 
 III. — THE INFLUENCE OF THE ARISTOCRACY ON SNOBS . . . 11 
 
 IV. — "THE COURT CIRCULAR," AND ITS INFLUENCE ON SNOBS . 15 
 
 V. — WHAT SNOBS ADMIRE 19 
 
 VI. — ON SOME RESPECTABLE SNOBS 22 
 
 VIL — ON SOME RESPECTABLE SNOBS 25 
 
 Vni. — GREAT CITY SNOBS 30 
 
 IX. — ON SOME MILITARY SNOBS 34 
 
 X. — MILITARY SNOBS . . . ^ 37 
 
 XI. — ON CLERICAL SNOBS 40 
 
 XII. — ON CLERICAL SNOBS AND SNOBBISHNESS 43 
 
 XIII. — ON CLERICAL SNOBS 47 
 
 XIV. — ON UNIVERSITY SNOBS . . . . . . . . 50 
 
 XV. — ON UNIVERSITY SNOBS 54 
 
 XVI. — ON LITERARY SNOBS 67 
 
 XVII. — A LITTLE ABOUT IRISH SNOBS 60 
 
 XVIIL — PARTY-GIVING SNOBS 63 
 
 XIX.— DINING-OUT SNOBS 67 
 
 XX. — DINNER-GIVING SNOBS FURTHER CONSIDERED . . . . 71
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 FACE 
 CHAPTER SXI. — SOME CONTINENTAL SNOBS 75 
 
 XXII. — CONTINENTAL SNOBBEKT CONTINUED 
 
 XXin. — ENGLISH SNOBS ON THE CONTINENT 
 
 XXIV.— ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS . 
 
 XXV. — A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS 
 
 XXVI. — ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS 
 
 XXVII. — A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS 
 
 XXVIII. — ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS . 
 
 XXIX. — A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS . 
 
 XXX. — ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS 
 
 XXXI. — A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS . 
 
 XXXn. — SNOBBIUM GATHERUM , 
 
 XXXni. — SNOBS AND MARRIAGE 
 
 XXXrV. — SNOBS AND MARRIAGE . 
 
 XXXV. — SNOBS AND MARRIAGE 
 
 XXXVI. — SNOBS AND MARRIAGE 
 
 XXXVII. — CLUB SNOBS .... 
 
 XXXVHL — CLUB SNOBS .... 
 
 XXXIX. — CLUB SNOBS .... 
 
 XL. — CLUB SNOBS .... 
 
 XLI. — CLUB SNOBS .... 
 
 XLIL — CLUB SNOBS .... 
 
 XLin. — CLUB SNOBS 
 
 XLIV.— CLUB SNOi 
 
 CHAPTER LAST . . % 164 
 
 rOES
 
 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 BY ONE OF THEMSELVES. 
 
 PREFATORY REMARKS. 
 
 [The necessity of a worJc on Snohs, demcnstnUed from History, and proved hy 
 felicitous illustrations: — I am the\ individual destined to write that worl- — My 
 vocation is announced in terms of rjreat eloquence — I show that the world has been 
 fjradually preparincj itself for the work and the tux's —Snols are to be studied like 
 ether objects of Natural Science, and are a part of the Beautiful {with a large B). 
 They pervade all classes — Affecting instance of Colonel Snoblcy.] 
 
 "We have all read a statement, (the authenticity of which I 
 take leave to doubt entirely, for upon what calculations I should 
 like to know is it founded ?) — we have all, I say, been- favoured by 
 perusing a remark, that when the times and necessities of the 
 world call for a Man, that individual .is found. Thus at the 
 Trench Revolution, (which the reader ■will be pleased to have 
 introduced so early) when it was requisite to administer a cor- 
 rective dose to the nation, Robespierre was found a most foul 
 and nauseous dose indeed, and swallowed eagerly by the patient, 
 greatly to the latter's ultimate advantage : thus, when it became 
 necessary to kick John Bull out of America, Mr. Washington 
 stepped forward, and performed that job to satisfaction : thus 
 when the Earl of Aldborough Avas unwell. Professor Holloway 
 appeared with his pills, and cured his Lordship, as per advertise- 
 ment, &c., &c. ISTumberless instances might be adduced to show, 
 that when a nation is in great want, the relief is at hand, just as 
 
 B
 
 2 THE LOOK OF SNOES. 
 
 in the Pautoiuiine (that microcosm) where when Cloion wants 
 anything — a warming-pan, a pump-handle, a goose, or a lady's 
 tippet — a fellow comes sauntering out from behind the side-scenes 
 with the very article in question. 
 
 Again, when men commence an undertaking, they always are pre- 
 pared to show that the absolute necessities of the world demanded 
 its completion. — Say it is a railroad : the directors begin by stating 
 that " A more intimate communication between Bathershins and 
 Derrynaue Beg is necessary for the advancement of civilisation, and 
 demanded by the multitudinous acclamations of the great Irish 
 people." Or suppose it is a newspaper: the prospectus states that 
 " At a time when the Church is in danger, threatened from without 
 by savage fanaticism and miscreant unbelief, and undermined from 
 within by dangerous Jesuitism and suicidal Schism, a Want has 
 been universally felt — a suffering people has looked abroad — for 
 an Ecclesiastical Champion and Guardian. A body of Prelates 
 and Gentlemen have therefore stepped forward in this our hour of 
 danger, and determined on establishing the Beadle newspaper," 
 &c., &c. But one or other of these points at least is inconti'o- 
 vertible. The public wants a thing, therefore it is supplied with 
 it ; or the public is supplied with a thing, therefore it wants it. 
 
 I have long gone about with a conviction on my mind that I 
 had a work to do — a Work, if you like, with a great W; a 
 Purpose to fulfil ; a chasm to leap into, like Curtius, horse & 
 foot; a Great Social Evil to Discover and to Remedy. That 
 Conviction Has Pursued me for Tears. It has Dogged me in the 
 Busy Street ; Seated Itself By Mo in The Lonely Study ; Jogged 
 My Elbow as it Lifted The Wine-cup at The Eestive Board; 
 Pursued me through the Maze of Eotten Eow ; Followed me in 
 Ear Lands. On Brighton's Shingly Beach, or Margate's Sand ; 
 the Yoice Outpiped the Eoaring of the Sea : it Nestles in my 
 iSTightcap, and It AVhispers, " Wake, Slumberei', thy Work Is 
 iSTot Yet Done." Last Year, By Moonlight, in the Colosseum; 
 the Little Sedulous Voice Came To Me and Said, " Smith, or 
 Jones," (The Writer's Name is Neither Here nor There) 
 " Smith, or Jones, my fine fellow, this is all very well, but you 
 ought to be at home writing your great work on SNOBS." 
 
 Wlien a man has this sort of vocation it is all nonsense
 
 PREFATORY REJIARKS. 3 
 
 attempting to elude it. He must speak out to the nations ; lie 
 must unhusm himself, as Jeames would say, or choke and die. 
 "Mark to yourself," I have often mentally exclaimed to your 
 humble servant, " the gradual way in which you have been pre- 
 pared for, and are now led by an irresistible necessity to enter 
 upon your great labour. Eirst the "World was made : then, as a 
 matter of course, Snobs ; they existed for years and years, and 
 were no more kno\vn than America. But presently, — ingeas 
 fatehat telhis, — the people became darkly aware that there was 
 such a race. Not above five-aud-twenty years since, a name, an 
 expressive monosyllable, arose to designate that race. That name 
 has spread over England like railroads subsequently ; Snobs are 
 known and recognised throughout an Empire on which I am 
 given to understand the Sun never sets. JPuncli appears at the 
 ripe season, to chronicle their history : and the individual comes 
 forth to write that history in Punch* 
 
 I have (and for this gift I congratulate myself with a Deep and 
 Abiding Thankfulness) an eye for a Snob. If the Truthful is the 
 Beautiful : it is Beautiful to study even the Snobbish ; to track 
 Snobs through history, as certain little dogs in Hampshire hunt 
 out truffles ; to sink shafts in society and come upon rich veins of 
 Snob-ore. Sjiobbisluiess is like Death in a quotation from Horace, 
 which I hope you never have heard, " beating with equal foot at 
 poor men's doors, and kicking at the gates of Emperors." It ia 
 a great mistake to judge of Snobs liglitly, aud think they exist 
 among the lower classes merely. An immense per-centage of 
 Snobs, I believe, is to be found in every rank of this mortal life. 
 You must not judge hastily or vulgarly of Snobs : to do so shows 
 that you are yourself a Snob. I myself have been taken for one. 
 
 When I was taking the waters at Bagnigge Wells, and living at 
 the Imperial Hotel there, there used to sit opposite me at break- 
 fast, for a short time, a Snob so insufferable that I felt I should 
 never get any benefit of the waters so long as he remained. His 
 name was Lieutenant-Colonel Snobley, of a certain dragoon 
 regiment. He wore japanned boots and moustachios : he lisped, 
 drawled, aud left the "r's" out of his words: he was always 
 
 * Tliese papers %vere originally published iu that popular periodical. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE BOOK OF SXOES. 
 
 liourisliing about, aud smoothing bis lacquered wbiskers with a 
 iuigo flaming bandanna, that filled tbe room "nitb an odour of 
 musk so stifling that I determined to do battle with that Snob, 
 and that either he or I should quit the Inn. I first began 
 hnrmless conversations with him ; frightening him exceedingly, 
 ibr he did not know what to do when so attacked, and had never 
 tlie slightest notion that anybody would take such a liberty witli 
 him as to speak Jirst : then I handed him the paper: then, as he 
 v.ould take no notice of these advances, I used to look him in the 
 face steadily and — and use my fork in the light of a toothpick. 
 After two mornings of this practice, he could bear it no longer, 
 and fairly quitted the place. 
 
 Should the Colonel see this, will he remember the Gent, who 
 asked him if he thought Publicoaler was a fine writer, and drove 
 him from the Hotel with a four -pronged fork r 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE S>'OB PLAYFULLY DEALT WITH. 
 
 Theee are relative and positive Snobs. I mean by positive, 
 such persons as are Snobs everywhere, in all companies, from 
 morning tUl night, from youth to the grave, being by Nature 
 endowed with Snobbishness — and others who are Snobs only in 
 certain circumstances and relations of life. 
 
 For instance : I once knew a man who committed before me 
 an act as atrocious as that which I have indicated in the last 
 cliapter as performed by me for the purpose of disgusting Colonel 
 Snobley ; viz., the using the fork in the guise of a toothpick. I 
 once, I say, knew a man who, dining in my company at the 
 Europa coftee-house, (opposite the Grand Opera, and, as every- 
 body knows, the only decent place for dining at Naples), ate peas 
 with the assistance of his knife. He was a person with whose 
 society I was greatly pleased at first — indeed, we had met in the 
 crater of Mount Vesuvius, and were subsequently robbed and 
 hold to ransom by brigands in Calabria, which is nothing 
 to the purpose — a man of great powers, excellent heart, and
 
 TEE Sx\OB TLAYFULLY DEALT ^YIT^. 5 
 
 varied information ; but I bad never before seen bini with a 
 dish of peas, and his conduct in regard to them caused me the 
 deepest pain. 
 
 After having seen him thus publicly comport himself, but one 
 course was open to me — to cut his acquaintance. I commissioned 
 a mutual friend (the Honourable Poly Anthus) to break the 
 matter to this gentleman as delicately as possible, and to say that 
 painful circumstances — in no wise affecting Mr. Marrowfat's 
 honour, or my esteem for him — had occurred, which obliged me 
 to forego my intimacy with him ; and accordingly we met, and 
 gave each other the cut direct that night at the Duchess of Monte 
 fiasco's ball. 
 
 Everybody at Naples remarked the separation of the Damon 
 and Pythias — indeed. Marrowfat had saved my life more than 
 once — but, as an English gentleman, what was I to do ? 
 
 My dear friend was, in this instance, the Snob relative. It is 
 not snobbish of persons of rank of any other nation to employ 
 their knife in the manner alluded to. I have seen Monte Fiasco 
 clean his trencher with his knife, and every Principe in company 
 doing likewise. I have seen, at the hospitable board of H. I. H. 
 the Grand Duchess Stephanie of Baden — (who, if these humble 
 lines should come under her Imperial eyes, is besought to 
 remember graciously the most devoted of her servants) — I have 
 seen, I say, the Hereditary Princess of Potztausend-Donnerwetter 
 (that serenely-beautiful woman) use her knife in lieu of a fork or 
 spoon ; I have seen her almost swallow it, by Jove ! like Eamo 
 Samee, the Indian juggler. And did I blench? Did my estima- 
 tion for the Princess diminish ? No, lovely Amalia! One of tlie 
 truest passions that ever was inspired by woman was raised in this 
 bosom by that lady. Beautiful one ! long, long may the knife carry 
 food to those lips ! the reddest and loveliest in the world ! 
 
 The cause of my quarrel with Marrowfat I never breathed to 
 mortal soul for four years. AVe met in the halls of the aristocracy 
 — our friends and relatives. We jostled each other in the dance 
 or at the board ; but the estrangement continued, and seemed 
 irrevocable, until the fourth of June, last year. 
 
 "We met at Sir George Golloper's. We were placed, he on the 
 right, your humble servant on the left of the admirable Lady G.
 
 G THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 Peas formed part of the banquet — ducks and green peas. I 
 trembled as I saw Marrowfat helped, and turned away sickening, 
 lest I should behold the weapon darting down his horrid jaws. 
 
 "What was my astonishment, what my delight, when I saw him 
 use his fork like any other Christian ! He did not administer the 
 cold steel once. Old times rushed back upon me — the remem- 
 brance of old services — his rescuing me from the brigands — his 
 gallant conduct in the affair with the Countess Dei Spinachi — his 
 lending me the 1700Z. I almost burst into tears with joy — my 
 voice trembled with emotion. " Geoi'ge, my boy ! " I exclaimed, 
 " George Marrowfat, my dear fellow ! a glass of wine ! " 
 
 Blushing — deeply moved — almost as tremulous as I was myself, 
 G-eorge answered, '^ FranJc, shall it he Sock or Madeira?" I 
 could have hugged him to my heart but for the presence of the 
 company. Little did Lady Golloper know what was the cause of 
 the emotion which sent the duckling I was carving into her 
 Ladyship's pink satia lap. The most good-natured of women 
 pardoned the error, and the butler removed the bird. 
 
 "We have been the closest friends ever since, nor, of course, has 
 George repeated his odious habit. He acqixired it at a country 
 school, where they cultivated peas, and only used two-pronged 
 forks, and it was only by living on the continent, where the usage 
 of the four-prong is general, that he lost the horrible custom. 
 
 In this point — and in this only — I confess myself a member of 
 the Silver Eork School, and if this tale but induce one of my 
 readers to pause, to examine in his own mind solemnly, and ask, 
 " Do I or do I not eat peas with a knife ? " — to see the ruin which 
 may fall upon himself by continuing the practice, or his family by 
 beholding the example, these lines will not have been written in 
 vain. And now, whatever otlier autliors may bo who contribute 
 to this miscellany, I flatter myself, it will be allowed, that I, at 
 least, am a moral man. 
 
 By the way, as some readers are dull of comprehension, I may 
 as well say what the moral of this history is. The moral is this — 
 Society having ordained certain customs, men are bound to obey 
 the law of society, and conform to its harmless orders. 
 
 If I should go to the British and Foreign Institute (and Heaven 
 forbid I should go under any pretext or in any costume whatever) —
 
 THE SNOB PLAYFULLY DEALT WITH. 7 
 
 if I should go to one of the tea-parties in a dressing govrn and 
 slippers, and not in the usual attire of a gentleman, viz., pumps, 
 a gold waistcoat, a crush hat, a sham frill, and a white choker — I 
 should be insulting society, and eating peas ivitli my Icnife. Let 
 the porters of the Institute hustle out the individual who shall so 
 offend. Such an offender is, as regards society, a most emphatical 
 and refractory Snob. It has its code and police as well as govern- 
 ments, and he must conform who woidd profit by the decrees set 
 forth for their common comfort. 
 
 I am naturally averse to egotism, and hate self-laudation con- 
 sumedly ; but I can't help relating here a circumstance illustrative 
 of the point in question, in which I must think I acted with con- 
 siderable prudence. 
 
 Being at Constantinople a few years since — (on a delicate 
 mission), — the Kussians were playing a double game, between 
 ourselves, and it became necessary on our part to employ an extra 
 negotiator — Leckerbiss Pasha of Eoumelia, then Chief Galeongee 
 of the Porte, gave a diplomatic banquet at his summer palace at 
 Bujukdere. I was on the left of the Galeongee ; and the Eussian 
 agent Count de Diddloff on his dexter side. Diddloff is a dandy 
 who would die of a rose in aromatic pain : he had tried to have me 
 assassinated three times in the course of the negotiation : but of 
 course we were friends in public, and saluted each other in the 
 most cordial and charming manner. 
 
 The Galeongee is — or was, alas ! for a bow-string has done for 
 him — a staunch supporter of the old school of Turkish politics. 
 We dined with oiu' fingers, and had flaps of bread for plates ; the 
 only innovation he admitted was the use of European liquors, in 
 which he indulged with great gusto. He was an enormous eater. 
 Amongst the dishes a very large one was placed before him of a 
 lamb dressed in its wool, stuffed with prunes, garlic, assafoetida, 
 capsicums, and other condiments, the most abominable mixture 
 that ever mortal smelt or tasted. The Galeongee ate of this 
 hugely ; and pursuing the Eastern fashion, insisted on helping his 
 friends right and left, and when he came to a particularly spicy 
 morsel, would push it with his own hands into his guests' very 
 mouths. 
 
 I never shall forget the look of poor Diddloft', when his Excel-
 
 8 THE BOOK OF SXOSS. 
 
 leucy, rolling up a large quantity of this into a ball and exclaiming, 
 " Buk Buk" (it is very good), administered the horrible bolus to 
 DiddlofF. The Russian's eyes rolled dreadfully as he received it : 
 he swallowed it with a grimace that I thought must precede a 
 convulsion, and seizing a bottle next him, which he thought was 
 Sauterne, but which turned out to be Trench brandy, he drank 
 off nearly a pint before he knew his error. It finished him ; he 
 was carried away from the dining-i'oom almost dead, and laid out 
 to cool in a summer-house on the Bosphorus. 
 
 "When it came to- my turn, I took down the condiment with a 
 smile, said Bismillah, licked my lips with easy gratification, and 
 when the next dish was served, made up a ball myself so dexte- 
 rously, and popped it down the old Galeongee's mouth with so 
 much grace, that his heart was won. Eussia was put out of Court 
 at once, and tlie treaty of Kabobanople ivas signed. As for Diddloff, 
 all was over with him, he was recalled to St. Petersburg, and Sir 
 Eoderic Murchison saw him, under the No. 3967, working in 
 the Ural mines. 
 
 The moral of this tale I need not say, is, that there are many 
 disagreeable things in society which you are bound to take down, 
 and to do so with a smiling face. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SIn'OB EOTAL. 
 
 Lo>'G since, at tlie commencement of the reign of her present 
 Gracious Majesty, it chanced " on a fair summer evening," as 
 Mr. James would say , that three or four young cavaliers were 
 drinking a cup of wine after dinner at the hostelry called the 
 King's Arms, kept by Mistress Anderson, in the royal village of 
 Kensington. 'Twas a balmy evening, and the wayfarers looked out 
 on a cheerful scene. The tall elms of the ancient gardens were in 
 full leaf, and countless chariots of the nobility of England w'hirled 
 by to the neighbouring palace, where princely Sussex (whose 
 income latterly only allowed him to give tea-parties) entertained 
 his royal niece at a state banquet. AVhcu the caroclies of the
 
 THE SNOB ROYAL. 9 
 
 nobles had set down their owners at the banquet-hall, their varlets 
 and servitors came to quaff a flaggon of nut-brown ale in the 
 King's Arms gardens, hard by. "We watched these fellows from 
 our lattice. By Saint Boniface ! 'twas a rare sight ! 
 
 The tulips in Mynheer Van Dunk's gardens -were not more 
 i^orgeous than the liveries of these pie-coated retainers. All the 
 ilowers of the field bloomed in their ruffled bosoms, all the hues 
 of the rainbow gleamed in their plush breeches, and the long-caned 
 ones walked up and down the garden with that charming solem- 
 nity, that delightful quivering swagger of the calves, which has 
 always had a frantic fiiscination for us. The walk was not wide 
 enough for them as the shoulder-knots strutted up and down it in 
 canary, and crimson, and light blue. 
 
 Suddenly, in the midst of their pride, a little bell was rung, a 
 side door opened, and (after setting down their Eoyal Mistress) 
 her Majesty's ov/n crimson footmen, with epaulets and black 
 plushes, came in. 
 
 It was pitiable to see the other poor Johns slink off at this 
 arrival ! Not one of the honest private Plushes could stand up 
 before the Eoyal Plunkies. They left the walk: they sneaked 
 into dark holes and drank their beer in silence. The Eoyal Plush 
 kept possession of the garden until the Eoyal Plush dinner was 
 announced, when it retired, and we heard from the pavilion wheio 
 they dined, conservative cheers, and speeches, and Kentish fii*es. 
 The other Flunkies we never saw more. 
 
 My dear Elunkies, so absurdly conceited at one moment, and so 
 abject at the next, are but the types of their masters in this world. 
 He loho meanJij admires mean things is a ^yeoi— perhaps that is 
 a safe definition of the character. 
 
 And this is why I have, with the utmost respect, ventured to 
 place The Snob Eoyal at the head of ray list, causing all others to 
 give way before him, as the Plunkies before the royal representa- 
 tive in Kensington Grardens. To say of such and such a Gracious 
 Sovereign that he is a Snob, is but to say that his Majesty is a 
 man. Kings, too, arc men and Snobs. In a country where Snobs 
 are in the majority, a prime one, surely, cannot be unfit to govern. 
 With us they have succeeded to admiration. 
 
 For instance, James I. was a Snob, and a Scotch Snob, than
 
 10 THE BOOK OF S2\013S. 
 
 wliicli tlie world contains uo more offensive creature. He appears 
 to hare bad not one of the good qualities of a man — neither 
 courage, nor generosity, nor honesty, nor brains ; but I'ead what 
 the great Divines and Doctors of England said about him ! 
 Charles II. his grandson was a rogue, but not a Snob ; whilst 
 Louis XIY., his old squaretoes of a contempoi'ary, — the great 
 worshipper of Bigwiggery — has always struck me as a most 
 undoubted and Eoyal Snob. 
 
 I will uot, however, take instances from our own country of 
 Eoyal Snobs, but refer to a neighbouring kingdom, that of Brent- 
 ford — and its monarch, the late great and lamented Gorgius TV. 
 "With the same humility, with which the footmen at the King's 
 Arms gave way before the Plush Koyal, the aristocracy of the 
 Brentford nation bent dovm and truckled before Gorgius, and pro- 
 claimed him the first gentleman in Europe. And it's a wonder to 
 think what is the gentlefolks' opiaiou of a gentleman, when they 
 gave Gorgius such a title. 
 
 What is it to be a gentleman ? It is to be honest, to be gentle, 
 to be generous, to be brave, to be wise, and, possessing all these 
 qualities, to exercise them in the most graceful outward manner ? 
 Ought a gentleman to be a loyal son, a true husband, and honest 
 father ? Ought his life to be decent — his bills to be paid — his 
 tastes to be high and elegant — his aims in life lofty and noble ? 
 In a word, ought not the Biography of a Eirst Gentleman in 
 Europe to be of such a nature, that it might be read in Tomig 
 Ladies' Schools -s^-ith advantage, and studied with profit in the 
 Seminaries of Young Gentlemen ? I put this question to all 
 instructors of youth — to Mrs. Ellis and the Women of England ; 
 to all schoolmasters, from Doctor Hawtrey down to I^Ir. Squeers. 
 I conjure up before me an awful tribunal of youth and innocence, 
 attended by its venerable instructors, (like the ten thousand red- 
 cheeked charity-children in Saint Paul's) sitting in judgment, and 
 Gorgius pleadiug his cause in the midst. Out of Court, out of 
 Court, fat old Florizel ! Beadles, turn out that bloated, pimple- 
 faced man ! If Gorgius 7nust have a statue in the new Palace 
 
 which the Brentford nation is building, it ought to be set up in 
 the Elunkies Hall. He should be represented cutting out a coat, 
 in which art he is said to have excelled. He also invented
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE ARISTOCRACY ON SNOBS. 11 
 
 Maraschino punch, a shoe-buckle, (this was in the vigour of his 
 youth, and the prime force of his invention,) and a Chinese pavi- 
 vilion, the most hideous building in the world. He could drive 
 a four-in-hand very nearly as well as the Brighton coachman, 
 could fence elegantly, and it is said, played the fiddle well. And 
 he smiled with such irresistible fascination, that persons who were 
 introduced into his august presence became his victims, body and 
 soul, as a rabbit becomes the prey of a great big boa-constrictor. 
 
 I would wager that if Mr. Widdicomb were, by a revolution, 
 placed on the throne of Brentford, people would be equally 
 fascinated by his irresistibly majestic smile, and tremble as they 
 knelt down to kiss his hand. If he went to Dublin they would 
 erect an obelisk on the spot whei'e he first landed, as the Paddy- 
 landers did when Grorgius visited them. We have all of us read 
 with delight that story of the King's voyage to Haggisland, where 
 his presence inspired such a fury of loyalty ; and where the most 
 famous man of the country — the Baron of Bradwardine — coming 
 on board the royal yacht, and finding a glass out of which Gorgius 
 had drunk, j)ut it into his coat pocket as an inestimable relic, and 
 went ashore in his boat again. But the Baron sat down upon the 
 glass and broke it, and cut his coat-tails very much ; and tlio 
 inestimable reKc was lost to the world for ever. O noble Brad- 
 wardine ! what Old-World superstition could set you on your 
 knees before such an idol as that ? 
 
 If you want to moralise upon the mutability of human aftairs, 
 go and see the figure of Gorgius in his real, identical robes, at the 
 wax-work. — Admittance one shilling. Children and flunkies six- 
 pence. Go, and pay sixpence. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE INPLUENCE OF THE AEISTOCEACT ON SNOUS. 
 
 Last Sunday week, being at church in this city, and the service 
 just ended, I heard two Snobs conversing about the Parson. One 
 was asking the other who the clergyman was ? " He is Mr. 
 So-and-so," tlic second Snob answered, " domestic chaplain to the
 
 12 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 Earl of What-d'ye-call'um." " Oh, is be?" said tlie first Suob, 
 with a tone of indescribable satisfaction. — The Parson's orthodoxy 
 and identity were at once settled in this Snob's mind. He knew 
 no more about the Earl tlian about the Chaplain, but he took the 
 latter's character upon the authority of the former ; and went 
 home quite contented with his Eeverence, like a little truckling 
 Snob. 
 
 This incident gave me more matter for reflection even than 
 the sermon: and wonderment at the extent and prevalence of 
 Lord-olatry in this country. TThat could it matter to Snob 
 whether his Heverence were chaplain to his Lordship or not ? 
 What peerage-worship there is all through this free country ! 
 How we are all implicated in it, and more or less down on 
 our knees. — And with regard to the great subject on hand, I 
 think that the influence of the Peerage upon Snobbishness has 
 been more remarkable than that of any other institution. The 
 increase, encouragement, and maintenance of Snobs are among 
 the " priceless services," as Lord John Russell says, which we owe 
 to the nobility. 
 
 It can't be otherwise. A man becomes enormously rich, or he 
 jobs successfully in the aid of a minister, or he wins a great battle, 
 or executes a treaty, or is a clever lawyer who makes a multitude 
 of fees and ascends the bench ; and the country rewards him for 
 ever with a gold coronet (with more or less balls or leaves) and a 
 title, and a rank as legislator. " Tour merits are so great," says 
 the nation, "that your children shall be allowed to reign over us 
 in a manner. It does not in the least matter that your eldest sou 
 be a fool : we think your services so remarkable, that he shall 
 have the reversion of your honours when death vacates your noble 
 shoes. If you are poor we will give you such a sum of money as 
 shall enable you and the eldest-born of your race for ever to live 
 iu fat and splendour. It is our wish that there should be a race 
 set apart in this happy country, who shall hold the first rank, 
 liave the first prizes and chances in all government jobs and 
 patronages. "We cannot make all your dear children Peers — that 
 would malce Peerage common and crowd the House of Lords 
 uncomfortably — but the young ones shall have everything a 
 government can give : they shall get the pick of all the places :
 
 INFLUENCE OF THE ARISTOCRACY ON SNOBS. 13 
 
 they shall be Captains and Lieutenant-Colonels at nineteen, when 
 hoary -headed old lieutenants are spending thirty years at drill : 
 they shall command ships at one-aud-twenty, and A'eterans who 
 fought before they were born. And as we are eminently a free 
 people, and in order to encourage all men to do their duty, we say 
 to any man of any rank — get enormously rich, make immense 
 fees as a lawyer, or great speeches, or distinguish yourself and win 
 battles — and you, even you, shall come into the privileged class, 
 and your children shall reign naturally over ours." 
 
 How can we help Snobbishness, with such a prodigious national 
 institution erected for its worship ? How can we help cringing 
 to Lords ? Elesh and blood can't do otherwise. What man can 
 withstand this prodigious temptation ? Inspired by what is called 
 a noble emulation, some people grasp at honours and win them j 
 others, too weak or mean, blindly admire and grovel before those 
 who have gained them; others, not being able to acquire .them, 
 furiously hate, abuse, and envy. There are only a few bland and 
 not-in-the-least-conceited philosophers, who can behold the state 
 of society, viz.. Toadyism, organised : — base Man-and-Mammon 
 worship, instituted by command of law : — Snobbishness, in a 
 word, perpetuated, and mark the phenomenon calmly. And of 
 these calm moralists, is there one, I wonder, whose heart would 
 not throb with pleasure if he could be seen walking arm-in-arm 
 vrith a couple of Dukes down Pall Mall ? No: it is impossible, 
 in our condition of society, not to be sometimes a Snob. 
 
 On one side it encourages the Commoner to be snobbishly 
 mean : and the noble to be snobbishly arrogant. AVhen a noble 
 Marchioness writes in her travels about the hard necessity under 
 which steam-boat travellers labour of being brought into contact 
 " with all sorts and conditions of people : " implying that a fellow- 
 ship with God's creatures is disagreeable to her Ladyship?, who is 
 
 tlieir superior : — when, I say, the Marchioness of ^^Tites in 
 
 this fashion, we must consider that out of her natural heart it 
 would have been impossible for any woman to have had such a 
 sentiment ; but that the habit of truckling and cringing, which all 
 Avho surround her have adopted towards this beautiful and magni- 
 ficent lady, — this proprietor of so many black and other diamonds, — 
 has really induced her to l)elieve that she is the superior of the
 
 14 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 ■world iu general : and that people are not to associate with her 
 except awfully at a distance. I recollect being once at the City 
 of Grand Cairo, through which a European Eoyal Prince was 
 passing India-wards. One night at the inn there was a great 
 disturbance : a man had drowned himself iu the well hard by : all 
 the inhabitants of the hotel came bustling into the Court, and 
 amongst others your humble servant, who asked of a certain 
 voung man the reason of the disturbance. How was I to Icnow 
 that this young gent, was a Prince ? He had not his crown and 
 sceptre on : he was dressed in a white jacket and felt hat : but 
 he looked surprised at anybody speaking to him : answered an 
 unintelligible monosyllable, and — lechoned Ms Aide-de-Camp to 
 come and speah to one. It is our fault, not that of the great, that 
 they should fancy themselves so far above us. If you icill fling 
 yourself under the wheels. Juggernaut will go over you, depend 
 upon it ; and if you and I, my dear friend, had Xotoo performed 
 before us every day, — found people whenever we appeared grovel- 
 ling in slavish adoration, we should drop into the airs of superiority 
 quite naturally, and accept the greatness with which the world 
 insisted upon endowing us. 
 
 Here is an instance, out of Lord L 's travels, of that 
 
 calm, good-natured, undoubting way in which a great man accepts 
 the homage of his inferiors. After making some profound and 
 ingenious remarks about the town of Brussels, his Lordship 
 gays : — " Staying some days at the Hotel de Belle Yue — a greatly 
 overrated establishment, and not nearly so comfortable as the 
 
 Hotel de France — I made acquaintance with Dr. L , the 
 
 physician of the Mission. He was desirous of doing the honour 
 of the place to me, and he ordered for us a diner en gourmand at 
 the chief restaurateur's, maintaining it surpassed the Eocher at 
 Paris. Six or eight partook of the entertainment, and we all 
 agreed it was infinitely inferior to the Paris display, and much 
 more extravagant. So much for the copy." 
 
 And so much for the gentleman who gave the dinner. Dr. 
 
 L , desirous to do his Lordship " the honour of the place," 
 
 feasts him with the best victuals money can procure — and my 
 lord finds the entertainment extravagant and inferior. Extra- 
 vagant! it was not extravagaut to liim; — Inferior! Mr. L
 
 "THE COURT CIRCULAR:" ITS INFLUENCE ON SXOB^:. 15 
 
 did his best to satisfy those noble jaws, and my lord receives the 
 entertainment, and dismisses the giver -with a rebuke. It is like 
 a three-tailed Pasha grumbling about an unsatisfactory buck- 
 sheesh. 
 
 But how should it be otherwise in a country where Lord-olatry 
 is part of our creed, and when our children are brought up to 
 respect the Peerage as the Englishman's second Bible ? 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 "thi; court cieculae," and its influence on snobs. 
 
 Example is the best of precepts ; so let us begin with a true 
 and authentic story, showing how young aristocratic Snobs are 
 reared, and how early their Snobbishness may be made to bloom. 
 A beautiful and fashionable lady — (pardon, gracious Madam, that 
 your story should be made public ; but it is so moral that it 
 ought to be known to the universal world) — told me that in her 
 early youth she had a little acquaintance, who is now indeed a 
 beautiful and fashionable lady too. In mentioning Miss Snobky, 
 daughter of Sir Snobby Snobky, whose presentation at Court 
 caused such a sensation last Thursday, need I say more ? 
 
 When Miss Snobky was so very young as to be in the nursery 
 regions, and to walk of early mornings in St. James's Park, 
 protected by a French governess and followed by a huge hirsute 
 flunkey in the canary-coloured livery of the Snobkys, she used 
 occasionally in these promenades to meet with young Lord Claude 
 Lollipop, the Marquis of Sillabub's younger son. In the very 
 height of the season, from some unexplained cause, the Snobkys 
 suddenly determined upon leaving town. Miss Snobky spoke to 
 her female friend and confidante. " What will ■ poor Claude 
 Lollipop say when he hears of my absence ?" asked the tender- 
 hearted child. 
 
 " Oh, perhaps he won't hear of it," answers the confidante. 
 
 " Jiy dear, Tie icill read it in the papers,'' replied the dear little 
 fashionable rogue of seven years old. She knew already her 
 importance, and how all the world of England, how all the would-
 
 IC THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 be-genteel people, Low all the silver-fork worshippers, how all the 
 tattle-mongers, how all the grocers' ladies, the tailors' ladies, the 
 attorneys' and merchants' ladies, and the people living at Clapham 
 r.nd Brunswick Square, who have no more chance of consorting 
 with a Snobky, than my beloved reader has of dining with the 
 Emperor of China — yet watched the movements of the Snobkys 
 with interest, and were glad to know when they came to London 
 and left it. 
 
 Here is the account of Miss Snobky's dress, and that of her 
 mother Lady Snobky, from the papers of last Friday : — 
 
 " MISS SKOBKT. 
 
 " Habit de Cour, composed of a yellow nankeen illusion dress 
 over a slip of rich pea-green corduroy, trimmed en tablier, with 
 bouquets of Brussels sprouts : the body and sleeves handsomely 
 trimmed with calimanco, and festooned with a pink train and 
 vrhite radishes. Head dress, carrots and lappets. 
 
 " LADY SXOBSY. 
 
 " Costume de Cour, composed of a train of the most superb 
 Pekin bandannas, elegantly trimmed with spangles, tinfoil, and 
 red-tape. Bodice and tinder-dress of sky-blue velveteen, trimmed 
 A^'ith bouffants and noeuds of bell-pulls. Stomacher, a muffin. 
 Head-dress, a bird's nest, with a bird of paradise, over a rich 
 brass knocker en ferroniere. This splendid costume, by Madame 
 Crinoline, of Eegent Street, was the object of universal admi- 
 ration." 
 
 This is what you read. Mrs. Ellis ! mothers, daughters, 
 aunts, grandmothers of England, this is the sort of writing which 
 is put in the newspapers for you ! How can you help being the 
 mothers, daughters, &c., of Snobs, so long as this balderdash is 
 set before you ? 
 
 You stuff the little rosy foot of a Chinese young lady of fashion 
 into a slipper that is about tlie size of a salt-cruet, and keep the 
 poor little toes there imprisoned and twisted up so long that the 
 dwarfishness becomes irremediable. Later, the foot would not 
 expand to the natural size were you to give her a washing-tub for
 
 "THE COURT CIRCULAR:" ITS IXFLUENCE ON SNOBS. 17 
 
 a slioe, and for all her life she has little feet, and is a cripple. O 
 my dear Miss Wiggins, thank your stars that those beautiful 
 feet of jours — though I declare when you walk tliey are so small 
 as to be almost invisible — thank your stars that society never so 
 practised upon them, but look around and see lio\v many fi'iends 
 of ours in the highest circles have had their brains so prematurely 
 and hopelessly pinched and distorted. 
 
 How can you expect that those poor creatures are to move 
 naturally when the world and their parents have mutilated them 
 so cruelly ? As long as a Court Circular exists, how the deuce 
 are people whose names are chronicled in it ever to believe them- 
 selves the equals of the cringing race which daily reads that 
 abominable trash ? I believe that ours is the only country in the 
 world now, where the Court Circular remains in full flourish — 
 where you read, " This day His Eoyal Highness Prince Pattypan 
 was taken an airing in his go-cart." "The Princess Pimminy 
 was taken a drive, attended by her ladies of honour and accom- 
 panied by her doll," &c. "We laugh at the solemnity with which 
 Saint Simon announces that Sa Jlajeste se medicamente aitjourcVhui. 
 Under our veiy noses the same folly is daily going on. That 
 wonderful and mysterious man, the author of the Court Circular, 
 drops in with his budget at the newspaper offices every night. 
 I once asked the editor of a paper to allow me to lie in wait and 
 see him. 
 
 I am told that in a kingdom where there is a German King- 
 Consort (Portugal it must be, for the Queen of that country 
 married a German Prince, who is greatly admired and respected 
 by the natives), whenever the consort takes the diversion of 
 shooting among the rabbit-warrens of Cintra, or the pheasant- 
 preserves of Mafra, he has a keeper to load his guns, as a matter 
 of course, and then they are handed to the nobleman, his equerry, 
 and the nobleman hands them to the Prince, who blazes away — 
 gives back the discharged gun to the nobleman, who gives it to 
 the keeper, and so on. But the Prince wonH take the gun from 
 tlie hands of the loader. 
 
 As long as this unnatural and monstrous etiquette continues, 
 Snobs there must be. The three persons engaged in this transac- 
 tion are, for the time being, Snobs.
 
 18 TPIE'BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 1. The keeper — the least Snob of nil, because he is discharging 
 his daily dvity ; but he appears here as a Snob, that is to say, in a 
 position of debasement, before another human being, (the Prince,) 
 with whom he is only allowed to communicate through another 
 party. A free Portuguese game-keeper, who professes himself to 
 be unworthy to communicate directly with any person, confesses 
 himself to be a Snob. 
 
 2. The nobleman in waiting is a Snob. If it degrades the 
 Prince to receive the gun from the gamekeeper, it is degrading to 
 the nobleman in waiting' to execute that service. He acts as a 
 Snob towards the keeper, whom he keeps from communication 
 with the Prince — a Snob towards the Prince, to whom he pays a 
 degrading homage. 
 
 3. The King-Consort of Portugal is a Snob for insulting fellow- 
 men in this way. There's no harm in his accepting the services of 
 the keeper directly; but indirectly he insults the service performed, 
 and the two servants who perform it ; and therefore, I say re- 
 spectfully, is a most undoubted, though royal Sn — b. 
 
 And then you read in the Diario do Goberno — " Yesterday, His 
 Majesty the king took the diversion of shooting in the woods 
 of Cintra, attended by Colonel the Honourable Whiskerando 
 Sombrero. His Majesty returned to the Necessidades to lunch, 
 at," &c., &c. 
 
 Oh ! that Court Circular ! once more, I exclaim. Down with 
 the Court Circular — that engine and propagator of Snobbishness ! 
 I promise to subscribe for a year to any daily paper that shall 
 come out without a Court Circular — were it the Morning Herald 
 itself. When I read that trash, I rise in my wrath ; I feel myself 
 disloyal, a regicide, a member of the Calf's Head Club. The 
 only Court Circular story which ever pleased me, was that of the 
 King of Spain, wlio iu great part was roasted because there was 
 not time for the Prime Minister to command the Lord Chamber- 
 lain to desire the Grand Gold Stick to order the first page in 
 waiting to bid the chief of the flunkies to request the Housemaid 
 of Honour to bring up a pail of water to put his Majesty out. 
 
 I am like the Pasha of three tails, to whom the Sultan sends 
 lis Court Circular, the bowstring. 
 
 It choices me. May its usage be abolished for ever.
 
 WHAT SNOBS ADMIRE. 19 
 
 CHAPTEE \. 
 
 WHAT SNOBS ADMIEE. 
 
 Now let us consider how difficult it is even for great men to 
 escape from being Snobs. It is very well for the reader, whose 
 fine feelings are disgusted by the assertion that Kings, Princes, 
 Lords, are Snobs, to say, " Tou are confessedly a Snob yourself. 
 In professing to depict Snobs, it is only your own ugly mug which 
 you are copying with a Narcissus-like conceit and fatuity," But 
 I shall pardon this explosion of ill-temper on the part of my 
 constant reader, reflecting upon the misfortune of his birth and 
 country. It is impossible for ani/ Briton, perhaps, not to be a 
 Snob in some degree. If people can be convinced of this fact, an 
 immense point is gained, surely. If I have pointed out the disease, 
 let us hope that other scientific characters may discover the remedy. 
 
 If you, who are a person of the middle ranks of life, are a Snob, — 
 you whom nobody flatters particularly ; you who have no toadies ; 
 you whom no cringing flunkies or shopmen bow out of doors ; you 
 whom the policeman tells to move on ; you who are jostled in the 
 crowd of this world, and amongst the Snobs our brethren : con- 
 sider how much harder it is for a man to escape who has not your 
 advantages, and is all his life long subject to adulation ; the butt 
 of meanness ; consider how difficult it is for the Snob's idol not 
 to be a Snob. 
 
 As I was discoursing with my friend Eugenio in this impressive 
 way. Lord Buckram passed us, the son of the Marquis of Bagwig, 
 and knocked at the door of the family mansion in Red Lion Square. 
 His noble father and mother occupied, as everybody knows, dis- 
 tinguished posts in the Courts of late Sovereigns. The Marquis 
 was Lord of the Pantry, and her Ladyship, Lady of the Powder 
 Closet to Queen Charlotte. Buck (as I call him, for we are very 
 familiar) gave me a nod as he passed, and I proceeded to show 
 Eugenio how it was impossible that this nobleman should not be 
 one of ourselves, having been practised upon by Snobs all his life. 
 
 His parents resolved to give him a public education, and sent 
 him to school at the earliest possible period. The Eeverend Otto
 
 ,20 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 liose, D.D., Principal of the Preparatory Academy for young 
 noblemen and gentlemen, Eichmond Lodge, took this little Lord 
 in hand, and fell down and -worshipped him. He always intro- 
 duced him to fathers and mothers who came to visit their children 
 at the school. He referred with pride and pleasure to the most 
 noble the Marquis of Bagwig, as one of the kind friends and 
 patrons of his Seminary. He made Lord Buckram a bait for such 
 a multiplicity of pupils, that a new wing was built to Richmond 
 Lodge, and thirty-five new little white dimity beds were added to 
 the establishment. Mrs. Eose used to take out the little Lord in 
 the one-horse chaise with her when she paid visits, until the 
 Eector's lady and the Surgeon's wife almost died with envy. His 
 own son and Lord Buckram having been discovered I'obbing au 
 orchard together, the Doctor flogged his own flesh and blood most 
 unmercifully for leading the young Lord astray. He parted from 
 him with tears. There was always a letter directed to the Most 
 Xoble the Marquis of Bagwig, on the Doctor's study table, when 
 any visitors were received by him. 
 
 At Eton, a great deal of Snobbishness was thrashed out of Lord 
 Buckram, and he was birched with perfect impartiality. Even 
 there, however, a select band of sucking tuft-hunters followed hiir. 
 Young Croesus lent him three-and-twenty bran new sovereigns out 
 of his father's bank. Touug Snaily did his exercises for him, and 
 tried " to know him at home," but Young Bull licked him in a 
 fight of fifty-five minutes, and he was caned several times with 
 great advantage for not sufficiently polishing his master. Smith's 
 shoes. Boys are not all toadies in. the morning of life. 
 
 But when lie went to the University, crowds of toadies sprawled 
 over him. The tutors toadied him. The fellows in hall paid him 
 great clumsy compliments. The Dean never remarked his absence 
 from Chapel, or heard any noise issuing from his rooms. A number 
 of respectable young fellows, (it is among the respectable, the 
 Baker-Street class, that Snobbishness flourishes, more than among 
 any set of people in England) — a number of these clung to him 
 like leeches. There was no end now to Croesus's loans of money ; 
 and Buckram couldn't ride out with the hounds, but Snaily (a 
 timid creature by nature) was in the field, and would take any 
 leap at which his friend chose to ride. Young Eose came up to
 
 WHAT SNOBS AD:MIRE. 21 
 
 the same College, having been kept back for that express purpose 
 by his father. He spent a quarter's allowance in giving Buckram 
 a single dinner ; but he knew there was always pardon for him for 
 extravagance in such a cause; and a ten-pound note always came 
 • to him from home when he mentioned Buckram's name in a letter. 
 What wild visions entered the brains of Mrs. Podge and Miss 
 Podge, the wife and daughter of the Principal of Lord Buckram's 
 College, I don't know, but that reverend old gentleman was too 
 profound a flunky by nature ever for one minute to think that a 
 child of his could marry a nobleman. He therefore hastened on 
 his daughter's union with Professor Crab. 
 
 AVhen Lord Buckram, after taking his honorary degree, (for 
 Alma Mater is a Snob, too, and truckles to a Lord like the rest,) 
 — when Lord Buckram went abroad to finish his education, you 
 all know what dangers he ran, and what numbers of caps were set 
 at him. Lady Leach and her daughters followed him from Paris 
 to Eome, and from Rome to Baden-Baden ; Miss Leggitt burst 
 into tears before his face when he announced his determination to 
 quit Naples, and fainted on the neck of her mamma : Captain 
 Macdragon, of MacdragonstoAvn, county Tipperary, called upon 
 him to " explene his intiutions with respect to his sisther, Miss 
 Amalia Macdragon, of Macdragonstown," and proposed to shoot 
 liim unless he married that spotless and beautiful young creature, 
 who was afterwards led to the altar by Mr. Muft', at Cheltenham. 
 If perseverance and forty thousand pounds down could have 
 tempted him. Miss Lydia Croesus would certainly have been Lady 
 Buckram. Count Towrowski was glad to take her with half the 
 money, as all the genteel world knows. 
 
 And now, perhaps, the reader is anxious to know what sort of 
 a man this is who wounded so many ladies' hearts, and Avho has 
 been such a prodigious favourite with men. ]f we were to de- 
 scribe him it would be personal, and 'Fundi notoriously is never 
 so. Besides, it really does not matter in the least what sort of a 
 man he is, or what bis personal qualities are. 
 
 Suppose he is a young nobleman of a literary turn, and that he 
 published poems ever so foolish and feeble, the Snobs would 
 purchase thousands of his volumes : the publishers (who refused 
 my Passion-Plowers, and my grand Epic at any price) would give
 
 2-2 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 Lim his owu. Suppose he is a nobleman of a jovial turn, and has 
 a fancy for wrenching ofi" knockers, frequenting gin-shops, and 
 half murdering policemen ; the public will sympathise good- 
 naturedly with his amusements, and say he is a hearty, honest 
 fellow. Suppose he is fond of play and the turf, and has a fancy 
 to be a blackleg, and occasionally condescends to pluck a pigeon 
 at cards ; the public will pardon him, and many honest people will 
 court him, as they would court a house-breaker, if he happened to 
 be a Lord. Suppose he is an idiot ; yet, by the glorious consti- 
 tution, he's good enough to govern ns. Suppose he is an honest, 
 high-minded gentleman ; so much the better for himself. But he 
 may be an ass, and yet respected ; or a ruffian, and yet be exceed- 
 ingly popular ; or a rogue, and yet excuses will be found for him. 
 Snobs will still worship him. Male Snobs will do him honour, and 
 females look kindly upon him, however hideous he may be. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 ox SOME EESPECTABLE S>COBS. 
 
 Hayikg received a great deal of obloquy for di-agging monarchs, 
 princes, and the respected nobility into the Snob category, I trust 
 to please everybody in the present chapter, by stating my firm 
 opinion that it is among the respectable classes of this vast and 
 happy empire that the greatest profusion of Snobs is to be found. 
 I pace down my beloved Baker Street (I am engaged on a life of 
 Baker, founder of this celebrated street), I walk in Harley Street 
 (where every other house has a hatchment), AVimpole Street, that 
 is as cheerful as the Catacombs — a dingy Mausoleum of the 
 genteel : — I rove round Eegent's Park, where the plaster is 
 patching off the house walls ; where Methodist preachers are 
 holding forth to three little children in the green inclosures, and 
 puffy valetudinarians are cantering in the solitary mud : — I thread 
 the doubtful zig-zags of May Pair, where Mrs. Kitty Lorimer's 
 brougham may be seen drawn up next door to old Lady Lollipop's 
 belozenged family coach ; — I roam through Belgravia, that pale 
 and polite district, where all the inhabitants look prim and correct,
 
 ON SOME RESPECTABLE SNOBS. 23 
 
 and the mansions are painted a faint wliity-brown : I lose myself 
 in tlie new squares and terraces of the brilliant bran-new 
 Bayswater-and- Tyburn- Junction line ; and in one and all of these 
 districts the same truth comes across me. I stop before any 
 house at hazard, and say, " house, you are inhabited — O knocker, 
 you are knocked at — O undressed flunky, sunning your lazy calves 
 as you lean against the iron railings, you are paid — by Snobs." 
 It is a tremendous thought that ; and it is almost sufficient to 
 drive a benevolent mind to madness to think that perhaps there is 
 not one in ten of those houses where the " Peerage" does not lie 
 on the drawing-room table. Considering the harm that foolish 
 lying book does, I would have all the copies of it burned, as the 
 barber burned all Quixote's books of humbugging chivalry. 
 
 Look at this grand house in the middle of the square. The 
 Earl of Loughcorrib lives there : he has fifty thousand a-year. A 
 dejeunei' dansant given at his house last week cost, who knows 
 how much ? The mere flowers for the room and bouquets for the 
 ladies cost four hundred pounds. That man in di'ab trowsers, 
 coming crying down the steps, is a dun : Lord Loughcorrib has 
 ruined him, and won't see him : that is, his lordship is peeping 
 through the blind of his study at him now. Gro thy ways, 
 Loughcorrib, thou art a Snob, a heartless pretender, a hypocrite 
 of hospitality ; a rogue who passes forged notes upon society ; — 
 but I am growing too eloquent. 
 
 Tou see that fine house, No. 23, where a butcher's boy is 
 ringing the area-bell. He has three mutton-chops in his tray. 
 They are for the dinner of a very difierent and very respectable 
 family ; for Lady Susan Scraper, and her daughters. Miss Scraper 
 and Miss Emily Scraper. The domestics, luckily for them, are on 
 board wages — two huge footmen in light blue and canary, a fat 
 steady coachman who is a Methodist, and a butler who Avould 
 never have stayed in the family but that he was orderly to General 
 Scraper when the General distinguished himself at "Walcheren. 
 His widow sent his portrait to the United Service Club, and it is 
 hung up in one of the back dressing-closets there. He is repre- 
 sented at a parlour window with red curtains ; in the distance is 
 a whii'hvind, in which cannon are firing off"; and he is pointing 
 to a chart, on which are written the words Walcheren, Tobago.
 
 24 THE BOOK OF SXOBS. 
 
 Lady Susan is, as everybody knows by referring to the " Britisli 
 Bible," a daughter of the great and good Earl Bagwig before 
 mentioned. She thinks everything belonging to her the greatest 
 and best in the world. The first of men naturally are the 
 Buckrams, her own race : then follow in rank the Scrapers. The 
 General was the greatest General : his eldest son, Scraper 
 Buckram Scraper, is at present the greatest and best ; his second 
 son the next greatest and best ; and herself the paragon of 
 women. 
 
 Indeed, she is a most respectable and honourable lady. She 
 goes to church of course : she would fancy the Church in danger 
 if she did not. She subscribes to the Church and Parish 
 Charities : and is a directress of many meritorious charitable 
 institutions — of Queen Charlotte's Lying-inn Hospital — the 
 "Washerwomen's Asylum — the British Drummers' Daughters' 
 Home, &c. &c. She is a model of a matron. 
 
 The tradesman never lived who could say that his bill was not 
 paid on the quarter-day. The beggars of her neighbourhood 
 avoid her like a pestilence ; for when she walks out, protected by 
 John, that domestic has always two or three Mendicity tickets 
 ready for deserving objects. Ten guineas a-year will pay all her 
 charities. There is no respectable lady in all London who gets 
 her name more often printed for such a sum of money. 
 
 Those three mutton-chops which you see entering at the kitchen- 
 door will be served on the family-plate at seven o'clock this 
 evening, the huge footman being present, and tlie butler in black, 
 and the crest and coat-of-arms of the Scrapers blazing everywhere. 
 I pity Miss Emily Scraper — she is still young — young and hungry. 
 Is it a fact that she spends her pocket-money in buns ? Malicious 
 tongues say so ; but she has very little to spare for buns, the poor 
 little hungry soul ! Eor the fact is, that when the footmen, and 
 the lady's-maids, and the fat coach-horses, which are jobbed, and 
 the six dinner-parties in the season, and the two great solemn 
 evening-parties, and the rent of the big house, and the journey to 
 an English or foreign watering-place for the autumn, are paid, my 
 lady's income has dwindled away to a very small sum, and she is 
 as poor as you or I. 
 
 You would not think it when vou saw her bijr carriage rattling
 
 ON SOME RESPECTABLE SNOBS. 25 
 
 up to the Drawing-room, and c.iuglit a glimpse of bcr plumes, 
 lappets, and diamonds, waving over her ladyship's sandy hair, and 
 majestical hooked nose : — you would not think it when you hear 
 " Lady Susan Scraper's carriage " bawled out at midnight so as 
 to disturb all Belgravia : — you would not think it when she comes 
 rustling into church, the obsequious John behind with the bag of 
 Prayer-books. Is it possible, you would say, that so grand and 
 awful a personage as that can be hard up for money ? Alas ! 
 so it is. 
 
 She never heard such a word as Snob, I will engage, in tliis 
 wicked and vulgar world. And, stars and garters ; liow she 
 would start if she heard that she — she, as solemn as Minerva — 
 she, as chaste as Diana (without that heathen goddess's unlady- 
 like propensity for field sports) — that she too was a Snob ! 
 
 A Snob she is, as long as she sets that prodigious value upon 
 herself, upon her name, upon her outward appearance, and indulges 
 in that intolerable pomposity ; as long as she goes parading abroad, 
 like Solomon, in all his glory ; as long as she goes to bed — as I 
 believe she does — witli a turban and a bird of Paradise in it, and 
 a court train to her night-gown ; as long as she is so insufferably 
 virtuous and condescending ; as long as she does not cut at least 
 one of those footmen down into mutton-chops for the benefit of 
 the young ladies. 
 
 I had my notions of her from my old schoolfellow, — her son 
 Sydney Scraper — a Chancery barrister without any practice — the 
 most placid, polite, and genteel of Snobs, who never exceeded his 
 allowance of two hundred a-year, and who may be seen any 
 evening at the Oxford and Cambridge Club, simpering over the 
 Quarterly Hevieu; in the blameless enjoyment of his half-pint 
 of Port. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 OS SOME EESPECTABLE SKOBS. 
 
 Look at the next house to Lady Susan Scraper's. The first 
 mansion with the awning over the door : that canopy will be let 
 down this evening for the comfort of the friends of Sir Alurod
 
 23 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 and Lady S. de Mogyns, -R-bose parties are so inucli admired by 
 tbe public, aud the givers themselves. 
 
 Peach-coloured liveries laced with silver, and pea-green plush 
 inexpressibles, render the De Mogyns' flunkies the pride of the 
 ring when they appear in Hyde Park, where Lady de Mogyns, 
 as she sits upon her satin cushions, with her dwarf spaniel in her 
 arms, only bows to the very selectest of the genteel. Times are 
 altered now with Mary Anne, or, as she calls herself, Marian de 
 Mogyns. 
 
 She was the daughter of Captain Plack, of the Eathdrum 
 Pencibles, who crossed with his regiment, over from Ireland to 
 Caermarthenshire ever so many years ago, and defended "Wales 
 from the Corsieau invader. The Eathdrums were quartered at 
 Pontydwdlm, where Marian wooed and won her De Mogyns, a 
 young banker in the place. His attentions to Miss Plack at a 
 race ball were such, that her father said De Mogyns must either 
 die on the field of honour, or become his son-in-law. He pre- 
 ferred marriage. His name was Muggins then, and his father — a 
 flourishing banker, army-contractor, smuggler, and general jobber 
 — almost disinherited him on account of this connexion. There 
 is a story that Muggins the Elder was made a baronet for having 
 lent money to a E-y-1 p-rs-n-ge. I do not believe it. The E-y-1 
 Pamily always paid their debts, from the Prince of Wales 
 downwards. 
 
 Howbeit, to his life's end he remained simple Sir Thomas 
 Muggins, representing Pontydwdlm in Parliament for many years 
 after the war. The' old banker died in course of time, and, to 
 use the afiectionate phrase common on such occasions, " cut up " 
 prodigiously well.' His son, Alfred Smith Mogyns, succeeded to 
 the main portion of his wealth, and to his titles and the bloody 
 hands of his scutcheon. It was not for many years after that he 
 appeared as Sir Alured Mogyns Smyth de Mogyns, with a gene- 
 alogy found out for him by the Editor of Fluke's Feerage, and 
 which appears as follows in that work :^— 
 
 "De^Iogyns. Sir Alured Mog3ms Smj-th, 2nd Baronet. TMs gentleman is a 
 representative of one of the most ancient families of Wales, who trace their 
 descent until it is lost in the mists of antiquity. A genealogical tree beginning 
 with Shem is in the possession of the family, and is stated by a legend of many
 
 ON SOME RESPECTABLE SNOBS. 27 
 
 thousand yeai's date to have been drawn on papyrus by a grandson of the patriarch 
 himself. Be this as it may, there can be no doubt of tlie immense antiquity of 
 tlie race of Mogyns. 
 
 ' ' In tlie time of Boadicea, Hogyn Mogyn, of the hundred Beeves, was a suitnr 
 aud a rival of Caractacus for the hand of that Princess. He was a person gigantic 
 in stature, and was slain by Suetonius in the battle which terminated the liberties 
 of Britain. From him descended directly the Princes of Pontydwdlm, Mogyn of 
 the Golden Harp, (see the Mabinogion of Lady Charlotte Guest, ) Bogyn-Meroda«;- 
 ap-Mogyn, (the black fieud son of Mogyn,) and a long list of bards and warriors, 
 celebrated both in Wales and Arraorica. The independent Princes of I^Iogyn long 
 held out against the ruthless Kings of England, until finally Gam Mogyns made 
 his submission to Prince Henry, son of Henry IV., and under the name of Sir 
 David Gam de Mogyns, was distinguished at the battle of Agincourt. From him 
 the present Baronet is descended. (And here the descent follows in order until it 
 comes to) Thomas Muggins, first Baronet of Pontydwdlm Castle, for 23 years 
 Member of Parliament for that borough, who had issue, Alured Mogyns Smyth, 
 the present Baronet, who married Marian, daughter of the late General P. Flack, 
 of Ballyflack, in the Kingdom of Ireland, of the Counts Flack of the II. R. 
 Empire. Sir Alured has issue, Alured Caradoc, born 1819, Marian, 1811, 
 Blanche Adeliza, Emily Doria, Adelaide Obleans, Katinka Rostopchiu, Patrick 
 Flack, died 1809. 
 
 " Arms — a mullion garbled, gules on a saltire reversed of the second. Crest — 
 a tom-tit rampant regardant. Motto — Ung Roy unj Moyyns" 
 
 It was long before Lady de Mogyns shone as a star in tlie 
 fashionable Avorld. At first, poor Muggins was in the hands of the 
 riacks, the Clancys, the Tooles, the Shanahaus, his wife's Irish 
 relations; and whilst he was yet but heir apparent, his house 
 overflowed with claret and the national nectar, for the benefit of 
 his Hibernian relatives. Tom Tufto absolutely left the street in 
 which they lived in London, because, he said, " it was infected 
 with such a confounded smell of whiskey from the house of those 
 Iwisli people." 
 
 It was abroad that they learnt to be genteel. They pushed 
 into all foreign courts, and elbowed their way into the halls of 
 Ambassadors. They pounced upon the stray nobility, and seized 
 young lords travelling with their bear leaders. They gave parties 
 at Naples, Eome, and Paris. They got a Koyal Prince to attend 
 their soirees at the latter place, and it was here that they first 
 appeared under the name of De Mogyns, which they bear with 
 such splendour to this day. 
 
 All sorts of stories are told of the desperate efibrts made by 
 the indomitable Lady de Mogyns to gain the place she now
 
 23 TUE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 occupies, and those of mv beloved readers "who live in middle life, 
 and are unacquainted Avith the frantic struggles, the wicked feuds, 
 the intrigues, cabals, and disappointments -which, as I am given to 
 understand, reign in the fixshionable world, maj^ bless their stars 
 that tliev at least are not fashionable Snobs. The intrigues set 
 afoot by the De Mogyns, to get the Duchess of Buckskin to her 
 pnrties, would strike a Talleyrand with admiration. She had a 
 brain fever after being disappointed of an invitation to Lady 
 Aldermanbury's the dansant, and would have committed suicide 
 but for a ball at "Windsor. I have the following story from my 
 noble friend Lady Clapperclaw herself, — Lady Kathleen O'Shaugh- 
 ncssy that was, and daughter of the Earl of Turfanthunder : — 
 
 " "When that qjous disguised Irishwoman, Lady ]\Iuggins, was 
 struggling to take her place in the world, and Avas bringing 
 out her hidjous daughter Blanche," said old Lady Clapperclaw 
 " (Marian has a hump-back and doesn't show, but she's the only 
 lady in the family) — when that Avretched Polly Muggins was 
 bringing out Blanche, with her radish of a nose, and her carrots 
 of ringlets, and her turnip for a face, she was most anxious — as 
 her father had been a cow-boy on my father's land — to be patron- 
 ised by us, and asked me point-blank, in the midst of a silence at 
 Count Yolauvents, the French Ambassador's dinner, why I had 
 not sent her a card for my ball ? 
 
 " ' Because my rooms are already too full, and your ladyship 
 AAOuld be crowded inconveniently,' says I ; indeed she takes up as 
 much room as an elephant ; besides, I wouldn't have her, and that 
 was flat. 
 
 " I thought my answer was a settler to her : but the next day 
 she comes weeping to my arms — ' Dear Lady Clapperclaw,' says 
 she, ' it's not for me ; I ask it for my blessed Blanche ! a young 
 creature in her first season, and not at your ball ! My tender 
 child Avill pine and die of vexation. I don't want to come. Zwill 
 stay at home to nurse Sir Alured in the gout. Mrs. Bolster is 
 going, I know ; she will be Blanche's chaperon.' 
 
 " ' You wouldn't subscribe for the Eathdrum blanket and potato 
 fund ; you, who come out of the parish,' says I, ' and Avhose 
 grandfather, honest man, kept cows there.' 
 
 " ' AVill twenty guineas be enough, dearest Lady Clapperclaw ? '
 
 ox SOME RESPECTABLE SNOBS. 29 
 
 " ' Twenty guineas is sufficient,' says I, and she paid them ; so I 
 said, ' Blanclie may come, but not you, mind ;' and she left me 
 with a world of thanks. 
 
 " Would you believe it ? — when my ball came the horrid woman 
 made her appearance with her daughter ! ' Didn't I tell you not 
 to come ?' said I, in a mighty passion. * What would the world 
 have said ? ' cries my Lady Muggins ; ' my carriage is gone for 
 Sir Alured to the Club ; let me stay only ten minutes, dearest 
 Lady Clapperclaw.' 
 
 " ' Well, as you are here, madam, you may stay and get your 
 supper,' I answered and so left her, and never spoke a word more 
 to her all night. 
 
 "And now," screamed out old Lady Clapperclaw, clappmg her 
 hands, and speaking with more brogue than ever, " what do you 
 think, after all my kindness to her, the wicked, vulgar, odious, 
 impudent upstart of a cowboy's granddaughter, has done ? — she cut 
 me yesterday in Hy' Park, and hasn't sent me a ticket for her ball 
 to-night, though they say Prince George is to be there.' " 
 
 Yes, such is the fact. In the race of fashion the resolute and 
 active De Mogyns has passed the poor old Clapperclaw. Her 
 progress in gentility may be traced by the sets of friends whom 
 she has courted, and made, and cut, and left behind her. She has 
 struggled so gallantly for polite reputation that she has won it ; 
 pitilessly kicking down the ladder as she advanced degree by 
 degree. 
 
 Her Irish relations were first sacrificed ; she made her father 
 dine in the steward's room, to his perfect contentment ; and would 
 send Sir Alured thither likewise, but that he is a peg on which 
 she hopes to hang her future honours ; and is, after all, paymaster 
 of her daughter's fortunes. He is meek and content. He has 
 been so long a gentleman that he is used to it, and acts the part of 
 governor very well. In the day-time he goes from the Union to 
 Arthur's, and from Arthur's to the Union. He is a dead hand at 
 picquet, and loses a very comfortable maintenance to some youu"- 
 fellows, at whist, at the Travellers. 
 
 His son has taken his father's seat in Parliament, and has of 
 course joined young England. He is the only man in the country 
 who believes in the De Mogynses, and sighs for the days when a
 
 30 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 De Mogyns led the van of battle. He has written a little volume 
 of spoony puny poems. He wears a lock of the hair of Laud, the 
 Confessor and Martyr, and fainted when he kissed the Pope's toe 
 at Eome. He sleeps in white kid gloves, and commits dangerous 
 excesses upon green tea. 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 GEEAT CITY SNOBS. 
 
 Theee is no disguising the fact that this series of papers is 
 making a prodigious sensation among all classes in this Empire. 
 Notes of admiration (!), of interrogation (?), of remonstrance, 
 approval, or abuse, come pouring into Mr. PuncWs box. "We 
 have been called to task for betraying the secrets of three 
 different families of De Mogyns ; no less than four Lady Susan 
 Scrapers have been discovered; and young gentlemen are quite 
 shy of ordering half-a-pint of port and simpering over the QuaHerJi/ 
 Meview at the Club, lest they should be mistaken for Sydney 
 Scraper, Esq. " What can be your antipathy to Baker Street ?" 
 asks some fair remonstrant, evidently writing from that quarter. — 
 
 "Why only attack the aristocratic Snobs?" says one estimable 
 correspondent ; " are not the snobbish Snobs to have their turn ?" 
 — " Pitch into the University Snobs ! " writes an indignant 
 gentleman (who spells elegant with two^ I's.) — " Show up the 
 Clerical Snob," suggests another. — " Being at jNIeurice's Hotel, 
 Paris, some time since," some wag hints, "I saw Lord B. leaning- 
 out of the window with his boots in his hand, and bawling oqt, 
 ' Garoon, cirez-moi ces lottes.'' Oughtn't he to be brought* in 
 among the Snobs ?" 
 
 No ; far from it. If his lordship's boots are dirty, it is because 
 he is Lord B., and wallvs. There is nothing snobbish in having 
 only one pair of boots, or a favourite pair ; and certainly nothing 
 snobbish in desiring to have them cleaned. Lord B., in so doing, 
 performed a perfectly natural and gentlemanlike action ; for which 
 I am so pleased with him that I should like to have hiin designed in a 
 favourable and elegant attitude, and put at the head of this Chapter
 
 GREAT CITY SNOES. 31 
 
 in. the place of honour. No, we are not personal in these candid 
 remarks. As Phidias took the pick of a score of beauties before 
 he completed a Venus : so have we to examine, perhaps, a thousand 
 Snobs, before one is expressed upon paper. 
 
 Great City Snobs are the next in the hierarchy, and ought to be 
 considered. But here is a difficulty. The great City Snob is 
 commonly most difficult of access. Unless you are a capitalist, 
 you cannot visit him in the recesses of his bank parlour in 
 Lombard Street. Unless you are a sprig of nobility there is little 
 hope of seeing him at home. In a great City Snob firm there is 
 generally one partner whose name is down for charities, and who 
 frequents Exeter Hall ; you may catch a glimpse of another (a 
 scientific City Snob) at my Lord N — 's soirees, or the lectures of 
 the London Institution ; of a third, (a City Snob of taste), at 
 picture-auctions, at private views of exhibitions, or at the Opera 
 or the Philharmonic. But intimacy is impossible, in most cases, 
 with this grave, pompous, and awful being. 
 
 A mere gentleman may hope to sit at almost anybody's table — 
 to take his place at my lord duke's in the country — to dance a 
 quadrille at Buckingham Palace itself — (beloved Lady Wilhelmina 
 Wagglewiggle ! do you recollect the sensation we made at the ball 
 of our late adored Sovereign Queen Caroline at Brandenburgh 
 House, Hammersmith ?) but the City Snob's doors are for the 
 most part closed to him; and hence all that one knows of this 
 great class is mostly from hearsay. 
 
 In other countries of Europe, the Banking Snob is more expan- 
 sive and communicative than with us, and receives all the Avorld 
 into his circle. Eor instance, everybody knows the princely 
 hospitalities of the Scharlaschild family at Paris, Naples, Frank- 
 fort, &c. They entertain all the world, even the poor at their 
 fetes. Prince Polonia, at Eome, and his brother, the Duke of 
 Strachino, are also remarkable for their hospitalities. I like the 
 spirit of the first-named nobleman. Titles not costing much in 
 the Eoman territory, he has had the head clerk of tlie banking- 
 house made a Marquis, and his Lordship will screw a hajocco out 
 of you in exchange as dexterously as any commoner could do. It 
 is a comfort to be able to gratify such grandees with a fiirthing or 
 two, it makes the poorest man feel that he can do good. The
 
 32 THE BOOK OF SJ^oBS. 
 
 Polouias have intermarried with the greatest and most ancient 
 families of Rome, and you see their heraldic cognizance (a mush- 
 room or on an azure field) quartered in a hundred places in the 
 city, with the arms of the Colonnas and Dorias. 
 
 Our City Snobs have the same mania of aristocratic marriages. 
 I like to see such. I am of a savage and envious nature, — I like 
 to see these two humbugs which, dividing, as they do, the social 
 empire of this kingdom between them, hate each other naturally — 
 making truce and uniting — for the sordid interests of either. 
 I like to see an old aristocrat swelling with pride of race, the 
 descendant of illustrious Norman robbers, whose blood has been 
 pure for centuries, and who looks down upon common English- 
 men as a free-born American does on a nigger, — I like to see old 
 Stiflneck obliged to bow down his head and swallow his infernal 
 pride, and drink the cup of humiliation poured out by Pump and 
 Aldgate's butler. "Pump and Aldgate," says he, "your grand- 
 father was a bricklayer, and his hod is still kept in the bank. 
 Tour pedigree begins in a workhouse ; mine can be dated from 
 all the royal palaces of Europe. I came over with the Con- 
 queror : I am own cousin to Charles Martel, Orlando Furioso, Philip 
 Augustus, Peter the Cruel, and Frederic Barbarossa. I quarter 
 the Royal Arms of Brentford in my coat. I despise you, but I 
 want money ; and I will sell you my beloved daughter, Blanche 
 StifFneck, for a hundred thousand pounds, to pay off my mortgages. 
 Let your son marry her, and she shall become Lady Blanche 
 Pump and Aldgate." 
 
 Old Pump and Aldgate clutches at the bargain. And a com- 
 fortable thing it is to think that birth can be bought for money. 
 So you learn to value it. "Why should we, who don't possess it, 
 set a higher store on it than those who do ? Perhaps the best 
 use of that book, the Peerage, is to look down the list, and sec 
 liow many have bought and sold birth, — how poor sprigs of 
 nobility somehow sell themselves to rich City Snobs' daughters, 
 how rich City Snobs purchase noble ladies — and so to admire the 
 double baseness of the bargain. 
 
 Old Pump and Aldgate buys the article and pays the money. 
 The sale of the girl's person is blessed by a Bishop at St. 
 George's, Hanover Square, and next year you read, " At Roe-
 
 GREAT CITY SNOBS. 33 
 
 Lampton, on Saturday, the Ladj Blanche Pump, of a son and 
 heir." 
 
 After this interesting event, some old acquaintance, "^-ho saw 
 young Pump in the parlour at the bank in the City, said to him, 
 familiarly, "How's your wife, Pump, my boy ?" 
 
 Mr. Pump looked exceedingly puzzled and disgusted, and, after 
 a pause, said, " Lady Blanche Fump is pretty well, I thank you." 
 
 "Oh, I thought she was your wife!'' said the familiar brute, 
 Snooks, wishing him good-bye ; and ten minutes after, the story 
 was all over the Stock Exchange, where it is told, when young 
 Pump appears, to this very day. 
 
 We can imagine the weary life this poor Pump, this martyr to 
 Mammon, is compelled to undergo. Pancy the domestic enjoy- 
 ments of a man who lias a wife who scorns him ; who cannot see 
 his own friends in his own house ; who having deserted the middle 
 rank of life, is not yet admitted to the higher ; but who is resigned 
 to rebuffs and delay and humiliation, contented to think that his 
 son will be more fortunate. 
 
 It used to be the custom of some very old-fashioned clubs in this 
 city, when a gentleman asked for change for a guinea, always to 
 bring it to him in icashecl silver : that which had passed imme- 
 diately out of the hands of the vulgar being considered " as too 
 coarse to soil a gentleman's fingers." So, when the City Snob's 
 money has been washed during a generation or so ; lias been 
 washed into estates, and woods, and castles and town-mansions ; 
 it is allowed to pass current as real aristocratic coin. Old Pump 
 sweeps a shop, runs of messages, becomes a confidential clerk and 
 partner. Pump the Second becomes chief of the house, spins 
 more and more money, marries his son to an Earl's daughter. 
 Pump Tertius goes on with the bank ; but his chief business in 
 life is to become the father of Pump Quartus, who comes out a 
 full-blown aristocrat, and takes his seat as Baron Pumpington, 
 and his race rules hereditarily over this nation of Snobs.
 
 34 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 O'S SOME MILITAKT SNOBS. 
 
 As no society in the world is more agreeable than that of well- 
 bred and well-informed military gentlemen, so likewise, none is 
 more insufferable than that of Military Snobs. They are to be 
 found of all grades, from the General Officer, whose padded old 
 breast twinkles over with a score of stars, clasps, and decorations, 
 to the budding Cornet, who is shaving for a beard, and has just 
 been appointed to the Saxe Coburg Lancers. 
 
 I have always admired that dispensation of rank in our country, 
 which sets up this last-named little creature (wlio was flogged only 
 last week because he could not spell) to command great whiskered 
 warriors, who have faced all dangers of climate and battle ; which, 
 because he has money to lodge at the agent's, will place him over 
 the heads of men who have a tliousand times more experience and 
 desert : and which, in the course of time, will bring him all the 
 honours of his profession, when the veteran soldier he commanded 
 has got no other reward for his bravery than a berth in Chelsea 
 Hospital, and the veteran officer he sviperseded has slunk into shabby 
 retirement, and ends his disappointed life on a thread-bare half-pay. 
 
 When I read in the Gazette such announcements as " Lieute- 
 nant and Captain Grig, from the Bombardier Guards, to be Captain, 
 vice Gi"izzle, who retires," I know what becomes of the Peninsular 
 Grizzle ; I follow him in spirit to the humble country town, where 
 he takes up his quarters, and occupies himself with the most despe- 
 rate attempts to live like a gentleman, on the stipend of half a 
 tailor's foreman ; and I picture to myself little Grig rising from 
 rank to rank, skipping from one regiment to another, with an 
 increased grade in each, avoiding disagreeable foreign service, and 
 ranking as a Colonel at tliirty ; — all because he has money, and 
 Lord Grigsby is his father, who had the same luck before him. 
 Grig must blush at first to give his orders to old men in every way 
 his betters. And as it is very difficult for a spoiled child to escape 
 being selfish and arrogant, so it is a very hard task indeed for this 
 spoiled child of Fortune not to be a Snob.
 
 ON SOME ]\IILITARY SNOBS. 85 
 
 It must have often been a matter of wonder to the candid reader, 
 tbat the Army, the most enormous Job of all our political institu- 
 tions, should yet work so well in the field ; and we must cheerfully 
 give Grig, and his like, the credit for courage which they display 
 whenever occasion calls for it. The Duke's dandy regiments fought 
 as well as any (they said better than any, but that is absurd). The 
 great Duke himself was a dandy once, and jobbed on, as Marl- 
 borough did before him. But this only proves that dandies are 
 brave as well as other Britons — as all Britons. Let us concede 
 that the high-born Grig rode into the entrenchments at Sobraon 
 as gallantly as Corporal Wallop, the ex-ploughboy. 
 
 The times of war are more favourable to him than the periods of 
 peace. Think of Grig's life in the Bombardier Guards, or the 
 Jack-boot Guards ; his marches from Windsor to London, from 
 London to Windsor, from Knightsbridge to Eegent's Park ; the 
 idiotic services he has to perform, which consist in inspecting the 
 pipeclay of his company, or the horses in the stable, or bellowing 
 out " Shoulder humps ! Carry humps ! " all which duties the very 
 smallest intellect that ever belonged to mortal man sufB.ce to com- 
 prehend. The professional duties of a footman are quite as difficult 
 and various. The red-jackets who hold gentlemen's horses in St. 
 James's Street could do the work just as well as those vacuous, 
 good-natured, gentlemanlike, rickety little Lieutenants, who may 
 be seen sauntering about Pall Mall, in high-heeled little boots, or 
 rallying round the standard of their regiment in the Palace Court, 
 at eleven o'clock, when the band plays. Did the beloved reader 
 ever see one of the young fellows staggering under the flag, or, 
 above all, going through the operation of saluting it ? It is 
 worth a walk to the Palace to witness that magnificent piece of 
 tom-foolery. 
 
 I have had the honour of meeting once or twice an old gentle- 
 man, whom I look upon to be a specimen of army-training, and 
 who has served in crack regiments, or commanded them, all liis 
 life. I allude to Lieutenant- General the Honourable Sir George 
 Grauby Tufto, K.C.B., K.T.S., K.H., K.S.W., &c., &c. His 
 manners are irreproachable generally ; in society he is a perfect 
 gentleman, and a most thorougli Snob. 
 
 A man can't help being a fool, be he ever so old, and Sir George
 
 36 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 is a greater ass at sixty-eight than he -nas uhen he first entered 
 the army at fifteen. He distinguished himself everywhere : his 
 name is mentioned with praise in a score of Gazettes : he is the 
 man, in fact, whose padded breast, twinkling over with innumer- 
 able decorations, has already been introduced to the reader. It 
 is difficult to say what virtues this prosperous gentleman possesses. 
 He never read a book in his life, and, with his purple, old gouty 
 fijigers, still writes a schoolboy hand. He has reached old age and 
 grey hairs without being the least venerable. He dresses like an 
 outrageously young man to the present moment, and laces and 
 pads his old carcass as if he were still handsome George Tufto of 
 1800. He is selfish, brutal, passionate, and a glutton. It is 
 curious to mark him at table, and see him heaving in bis waist- 
 band, his little bloodshot eyes gloating over his meal. He swears 
 considerably in his talk, and tells filthy garrison stories after 
 dinner. On account of his rank and his services, people pay the 
 bestarred and betitled old brute a sort of reverence ; and he looks 
 down upon you and me, and exhibits his contempt for us, with a 
 stupid and artless candour, which is quite amusing to watch. 
 Perhaps, had he been bred to another profession, he would not 
 have been the disreputable old creature he now is. But what 
 other ? He was fit for none ; too incorrigibly idle and dull for any 
 trade but this, in which he has distinguished himself publicly as a 
 good and gallant officer, and privately for riding races, drinking 
 port, fighting duels, and seducing women. He believes himself to 
 be one of the most honourable and deserving beings in the world. 
 About Waterloo Place, of afternoons, you may see him tottering 
 in his varnished boots, and leering under the bonnets of the women 
 who pass by. When he dies of apoplexy, the Times will have a 
 quarter of a column about his services and battles — four lines of 
 print will be wanted to describe his titles and orders alone — and 
 the earth will cover one of the wickedest and dullest old wretches 
 that ever strutted over it. 
 
 Lest it should be imagined that I am of so obstinate a misan- 
 thropic nature as to be satisfied with nothing, I beg (for the com- 
 fort of the forces) to state my belief that the Army is not composed 
 of such persons as the above. He has only been selected for the 
 study of civilians and the military, as a specimen of a prosperous
 
 MILITARY SNOBS. 37 
 
 and bloated army Snob. !N'o : wlien epaulets are not sold ; wben 
 corporal punisbments are abolisbed, and Corporal Smitb bas a 
 cbance to bave bis gallantry rewarded as well as tbat of Lieutenant 
 Grig ; wben tliere is no sucli rank as Ensign and Lieutenant, (tbe 
 existence of wbicb rank is an absurd anomaly, and an insult upon 
 all tbe rest of tbe army), and sbould tbere be no war, I sbould not 
 be disinclined to be a Major-General myself. 
 
 I bave a little sbeaf of Army-Snobs in my portfolio, but sball 
 pause in my attack upon tbe forces until next week. 
 
 CHxVPTER X. 
 
 illLITAET SNOBS. 
 
 "Walkixq in tbe Park yesterday witb my young friend Tagg, 
 and discoursing witb bim upon tbe next number of tbe Suob, at 
 tbe very nick of time wbo sbould pass us but two very good speci- 
 mens of Military Snobs, — tbe Sporting Military Snob, Captain 
 Eag, and tbe "larking," or raffisb Military Snob, Easigu Famisb. 
 Indeed you are fully sure to meet tbem lounging on borseback, 
 about five o'clock, under tbe trees by tbe Serpentine, examining 
 critically tbe inmates of tbe flasby brougbams wbicb parade up 
 and down "tbe Lady's Mile." 
 
 Tagg and Eag are very well acquainted, and so tbe former, witb 
 tbat candour inseparable from intimate fi-ieudsbip, told me bis dear 
 friend's bistory. Captain Eag is a small dapper nortb-country 
 man. He went wben quite a boy into a crack ligbt cavalry regi- 
 ment, and by tlie time be got bis troop, liad cbeated all bis 
 brotber officers so completely, selling tbem lame boi'ses for sound 
 ones, and winning tbeir money by all manner of strange and 
 ingenious contrivances, tbat bis Colonel advised bim to retire, 
 wbicb be did witbout mucli reluctance, accommodating a 3'oungster, 
 wbo just entered tbe regiment, witli a glandered cbarger at an 
 uncommonly stiff figure. 
 
 He bas since devoted bis time to billiards, steeple-cliasing, and 
 tbe turf. His bead quarters are Eummer's, in Conduit Street, 
 w'bere be keeps bis kit, but be is ever on tbe move in tbe
 
 3S THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 exercise of his vocation as a geutlemau jockey and gentleman 
 leg. 
 
 According to Bell's Life, he is an invariable attendant at all races, 
 and an actor in most of them. He rode the winner at Leamington ; 
 he was left for dead in a ditch a fortnight ago at Harrow; and yet 
 there he was, last week, at the Croix de Berny, pale and deter- 
 mined as ever, astonishing the hadauds of Paris by the elegance of 
 his seat and the neatness of his rig, as he took a preliminary gallop 
 on that vicious brute "The Disowned," before starting for " tlie 
 Trench Grand National." 
 
 He is a regular attendant at the Corner, where he compiles a 
 limited but comfortable libretto. During the season he rides often 
 in the Park, mounted on a clever, well-bred pony. He is to be 
 seen escorting that celebrated horsewoman, Panny Highflyer, 
 or in confidential converse with Lord Thimblerig, the eminent 
 handicapper. 
 
 He carefully avoids decent society, and would rather dine off a 
 steak at the One Tun with Sam Snaffle the jockey. Captain 
 O'Eourke, and two or three other notorious turf robbers, than 
 with the choicest company in London. He likes to announce at 
 Hummer's that he is going to run down and spend his Saturday 
 and Sunday in a friendly way with Hocus, the leg, at his little 
 box near Epsom, where, if repoi't speak true, many " rummish 
 plants " are concocted. 
 
 He does not play billiards often, and never in public : but when 
 he does play, he always contrives to get hold of a good flat, aud 
 never leaves him till he has done him uncommonly brown. He 
 has lately been playing a good deal with Pamish. 
 
 When he makes his appearance in the drawing-room, which 
 occasionally happens at a hunt-meeting or a race-ball, he enjoys 
 himself extremely. 
 
 His young friend is Ensign Paraish, who is not a little pleased 
 to be seen with such a smart fellow as Pag, who bows to the best 
 turf company in the Park. Eag lets Pamish accompany him to 
 Tattersall's and sells him bargains in horse-flesh, and uses Pamish's 
 cab. That young gentleman's regiment is in India, and he is at 
 home on sick leave. He recruits his health by being intoxicated 
 every night, and fortifies his lungs, which are weak, by smoking
 
 MILITARY SNOBS. 89 
 
 cigars all day. The policemen about the Haymarket know the 
 little creature, and the early cabmen salute him. The closed doors 
 of fish and lobster shops open after service, and vomit out little 
 Famish, who is either tipsy and quarrelsome — when he wants to 
 fight the cabmen, or drunk and helpless, when some kind friend 
 (in yellow satin) takes care of him. All the neighbourhood, the 
 cabmen, the police, the early potato-men, and the friends in yellow 
 satin, know the young fellow, and he is called Little Bobby by 
 some of the very worst reprobates in Europe. 
 
 His mother. Lady Fanny Famish, believes devotedly that Eobert 
 is in London solely for the benefit of consulting the physician, is 
 going to have him exchanged into a dragoon regiment, which 
 doesn't go to that odious India ; and has an idea that his chest is 
 delicate, and that he takes gruel every evening, when he puts his 
 feet in hot water. Her Ladyship resides at Cheltenham, and is 
 of a serious turn. 
 
 Bobby frequents the Union- Jack Club of course ; where he break- 
 fasts on pale ale and devilled kidneys at three o'clock ; where beard- 
 less youug heroes of his own sort congregate, and make merry, and 
 give each other dinners ; where you may see half-a-dozen of young 
 rakes of the fourth or fifth order lounging and smoking on the 
 steps ; where you behold Slapper's long-tailed leggy mare in the 
 custody of a red-jacket until the Captain is primed for the Park 
 with a glass of curacoa : and whei*e you see Hobby, of the Highland 
 Buffs, driving up with Dobby, of the Madras Fusiliers, in the great 
 banging, swiuging cab, which the latter hires from Eumble of 
 Bond Street. 
 
 In fact, MiHtary Snobs are of such number and variety, that a 
 hundred weeks of Punch would not suffice to give an audience to 
 them. There is, besides the disreputable old Military Snob who 
 has seen service, the respectable old Military Snob, who has seen 
 none, and gives himself the most prodigious Martinet-airs. There 
 is the Medical-Military Snob, Avho is generally more outrageously 
 military in his conversation than the greatest sahreur in the army. 
 There is the Heavy-Dragoon Snob, whom young ladies admire, 
 with his great stupid pink face and yellow moustachios — a vacuous, 
 solemn, foolish, but brave and honourable Snob. There is the 
 Amateur-Military Snob, who writes Captain on his card because
 
 40 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 lie is a Lieutenant in tlie Bungay Militia. There is the Lady- 
 killing Military Snob ; and more, who need not be named. 
 
 But let no man, we repeat, charge JTr. Punch with direspecfc 
 for the Army in general — that gallant and judicious Ai'my, every 
 man of which, from Y. M. the Duke of "Wellington, &c., down- 
 wards — (with the exception of H. E. H. Field-Marshal Prince 
 Albert, who, however, can hardly count as a military man.) reads 
 Punch in every quarter of the globe. 
 
 Let those civilians who sneer at the acquirements of the Army 
 read Sir Harry Smith's account of the Battle of Aliwal, A noble 
 deed was never told in nobler language. And you who doubt if 
 chivaliy exists, or the age of heroism has passed by — think of Sir 
 Henry Hardinge, with his son, " dear little Arthur," riding in 
 front of the lines at Ferozeshah. I hope no English painter will 
 endeavour to illustrate that scene ; for who is there to do justice 
 to it ! The history of the world contains no more brilliant and 
 heroic picture. iS'o, no ; the men who perform these deeds with 
 such brilliant valour, and describe them with such modest manli- 
 ness — such are not Snobs. Their country' admires them, their 
 Sovereign rewards them, and Punch, the imiversal railer, takes off 
 his hat and says. Heaven save them ! 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ox CLEEICAL SNOBS. 
 
 After Snobs-Military, Snobs-Clerical suggest themselves quite 
 naturally, and it is clear that, with every respect for the cloth, 
 yet having a regard for truth, humanity, and the British public, 
 such a vast and influential class must not be omitted from our 
 notices of the great Snob world. 
 
 Of these Clerics there are some whose claim to snobbishness is 
 undoubted, and yet it cannot be discussed here; for the same 
 reason that Punch would not set up his show in a Cathedral, out 
 of respect for the solemn service celebrated within. There are 
 some places where he acknowledges himself not privileged to make
 
 ON CLERICAL SNOBS. 41 
 
 a noise, and puts away liis show, and silences his drum, and takes 
 off liis hat, and holds his peace. 
 
 And I know this, that if there are some Clerics who do wrong, 
 there are straightway a thousand newspapers to haul up those 
 unfortunates, and cry, Fie upon them, fie upon tliem ! while, 
 though the press is always ready to yell and bellow excommuni- 
 cation against these stray dehnquent parsons, it somehow takes 
 very little count of the many good ones — of the tens of thousands 
 of honest men, who lead Christian lives, who give to the poor 
 generously, who deny themselves rigidly, and live and die in 
 their duty, without ever a newspaper paragraph in their favour. 
 My beloved friend and reader, I wish you and I could do the 
 same : and let m© whisper my belief, entre nous, that of those 
 eminent philosophers who cry out against parsons the loudest, 
 there are not many who have got their knowledge of the church 
 by going thither often. 
 
 But you who have ever listened to village bells, or have walked 
 to church as children on sunny Sabbath mornings ; you who have 
 ever seen the parson's wife tending the poor man's bedside; or 
 the town clergyman threading the dirty stairs of noxious alleys 
 upon his sacred business ; — do not raise a shout when one of these 
 falls away, or yell with the mob that howls after him. 
 
 Every man can do that. When old Father Noah was overtaken 
 in his cups, there was only one of his sons that dared to make 
 merry at his disaster, and he was not the most virtuous of the 
 family. Let us too turn away silently, nor huzza like a parcel of 
 school-boys, because some big young rebel suddenly starts up and 
 whops the schoolmaster. 
 
 I confess, though, if I had by me the names of those seven or 
 eight Irish Bishops, the probates of whose wills were mentioned 
 in last year's journals, and who died leaving behind them some 
 two hundred thousand pounds a-piece — I would like to put them 
 up as patrons of my Clerical Snobs, and operate upon them as 
 successfully as I see from the newspapers Mr. Eisenberg, Chiro- 
 podist, has lately done upon " His Grace the Eight Eeverend Lord 
 Bishop of Tapioca."
 
 42 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 And I confess, that -when those Eight Eeverend Prelates come- 
 up to the gates of Paradise with theii- probates of wills in their 
 hands, I confess I think that their chance Jg * * * * But the 
 gates of Paradise is a far way to follow their Lordships ; so let us 
 trip down again, lest awkward questions be asked there about our 
 own favoiu'ite vices too. 
 
 And don't let us give way to the vulgar prejudice, that clergy- 
 men are an over-paid and luxurious body of men. When that 
 eminent ascetic, the late Sydney Smith — (by the way, by what 
 law of nature is it that so many Smiths in this world are called 
 Sydney Smith r) — lauded the system of great prizes in the Church, 
 — without which he said gentlemen would not be induced to- 
 foUow the clerical profession ; he admitted most pathetically that 
 the Clergy in general were by no means to be envied for their 
 worldly prosperity. Prom reading the works of some modern 
 writers of repute, you would fancy that a pai-son's life was passed 
 in gorging himself with plum-pudding and port-wine ; and that 
 his Peverence's fat chaps were always greasy with the crackling 
 of tithe pigs. Caricaturists delight to represent him so ; round,, 
 short-necked, pimple-fiiced, apoplectic, bursting out of waistcoat, 
 like a black-pudding, a shovel - hatted fuzz-wigged Silenus. 
 "Whereas, if you take the real man, the poor fellow's flesh-pots are 
 very scantily furnished with meat. He labours commonly for a 
 wage that a tailor's foreman would despise : he has, too, such 
 claims upon his dismal income as most philosophers would rather 
 grumble to meet; many tithes arc levied upon 7i2S pocket, let it 
 be remembered, by those who grudge him his means of livelihood. 
 He has to dine Avith the Squire ; and his wife must dress neatly ;. 
 and he must " look like a gentleman," as they call it, and bring 
 up his six great hungry sons as such. Add to this, if he does his 
 duty, he has such temptations to spend his money as no mortal 
 man coidd withstand. Tes ; you who can't resist purchasing a 
 chest of cigars, because they are so good ; or an or-molu clock at 
 Howell and James's, because it is such a bargain ; or a box at the 
 Opera, because Lablache and Grisi are divine in the Puritani ; 
 fancy how difficult it is for a parson to resist spending a half- 
 crown when John Breakstone's familv are without a loaf; or
 
 ON CLERICAL SNOBS AND SNOBBISHNESS. 4a 
 
 "standing" a bottle of port for poor old Polly Eabbits, who lias 
 her thirteenth child ; or treating himself to a suit of corduroys for 
 little Bob Scarecrow, whose breeches are sadly out at elbows. 
 Think of these temptations, brother moralists and philosophers,, 
 and don't be too hard on the parson. 
 
 But what is this ? Instead of " showing up" the parsons, are 
 we indulging in maudlin praises of that monstrous black-coated 
 race ? saintly Francis, lying at rest under the turf; Jimmy, 
 and Johnny, and AVilly, friends of my youth ! noble and dear 
 old Elias ! how should he who knows you, not respect you and 
 your calling ? May this pen never write a pennyworth again, if 
 it ever casts ridicule upon either ! 
 
 CHxiPTEE XII. 
 
 ON CLEEICAL SJ^OBS AND SNOBBISHNESS. 
 
 " Dear Mk. Snob," an amiable young correspondent writes^ 
 who signs himself Snobling, " ought the clergyman who, at the 
 request of a noble Duke, lately interrupted a marriage ceremony 
 between two persons perfectly authorised to marry, to be ranked 
 or not among the Clerical Snobs ?" 
 
 This, my dear young friend, is not a fair question. One of the 
 illustrated weekly papers has already seized hold of the clergyman, 
 and blackened him most unmercifully, by representing him in his 
 cassock performing the marriage service. Let that be sufficient 
 punishment ; and, if you please, do not press the query. 
 
 It is very likely that if JMiss Smith had come with a license to 
 marry Jones, the parson in question, not seeing old Smith present, 
 would have sent off the beadle in a cab to let the old gentleman 
 know what was going on ; and Avould have delayed the service 
 until the arrival of Smith senior. lie very likely thinks it his 
 duty to ask all marriageable young ladies, who come without tlieir 
 papa, why their parent is absent ; and, no doubt, always sends off 
 the beadle for that missing governor. 
 
 Or, it is very possible that the Duke of Cccurdelion was JNIr.
 
 44 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 "Whatdjecallum's most intimate friend, and lias often said to liim, 
 " Whatdyecallum, my boy, my daughter must never marry the 
 Capting. If ever they try at your church, I beseech you, con- 
 sidering the terms of intimacy on which we are, to send off 
 Eattan in a hack-cab to fetch me." 
 
 In either of which cases, you see, dear Snobling, that though 
 the parson would not have been authorised, yet he might have 
 been excused for interfering. He has no more right to stop my 
 marriage than to stop my dinner, to both of which, as a free-born 
 Bi'itou, I am entitled by law, if I can pay for them. But, consider 
 pastoral solicitude, a deep sense of the duties of his office, and 
 pardon this inconvenient, but genuine zeal. 
 
 But if the clergyman did in the Duke's case what he would 
 not do in Smith's ; if he has no more acquaintance with the 
 Coeurdelion family than I have with the Eoyal and Serene House 
 of Saxe-Coburg Gotha, — tlien, I confess, my dear Snobling, your 
 question might elicit a disagreeable reply, and one which I 
 respectfully decline to give. I wonder what Sir George Tufto 
 would say, if a sentry left his post because a noble lord (not in 
 the least connected with the service) begged the sentinel not to 
 do his duty ? 
 
 Alas ! that the beadle who canes little boys and drives them 
 out, cannot drive worldliness out too ; and what is worldliness but 
 snobbishness ? AVhen, for instance, I read in the newspapers that 
 the Eight Eeverend the Lord Charles James administered the rite 
 of confirmation to a partjj of tlie juvenile nohiUty at the Chapel 
 Eoyal, — as if the Chapel Eoyal were a sort of ecclesiastical 
 Almack's, and young people were to get ready for the next world 
 in little exclusive genteel knots of the aristocracy, who were not 
 to be disturbed in their journey thither by the company of the 
 vulgar : — when I read such a paragraph as that (and one or two 
 such generally appear during the present fashionable season), it 
 seems to me to be the most odious, mean, and disgusting part of 
 that odious, mean, and disgusting publication, the Court Circular ; 
 and that snobbishness is therein carried to quite an awful pitch. 
 What, gentlemen, can't we even in the Church acknowledge 
 a republic ? There, at least, the Heralds' College itself might 
 allow that we all of us have the same pedigree, and are direct
 
 ON CLERICAL SNOBS AND SNOBBISHNESS. 45 
 
 descendants of Eve and Adam, whose inheritance is divided 
 amongst us. 
 
 I hereby call upon all Dukes, Earls, Baronets, and other 
 potentates, not to lend themselves to this shameful scandal and 
 error, and beseech all Bishops, who read this publication, to take 
 the matter into consideration, and to protest against the conti- 
 nuance of the practice, and to declare, " AVe looii't confirm or 
 christen Lord Tomnoddy, or Sir Carnaby Jenks, to the exclusion 
 of any other young Christian;" the which declaration, if their 
 Lordships are induced to make, a great lapis qffensionis will be 
 removed, and the Snob Papers will not have been written in vain. 
 
 A story is current of a celebrated nouveau-riche, who having had 
 occasion to oblige that excellent prelate the Bishop of Bullock- 
 smithy, asked his Lordship in return, to confirm his children 
 privately in his Lordship's own chapel ; which ceremony the 
 grateful prelate accordingly performed. Can satire go farther 
 than this ? Is there even in this most amusing of prints, any 
 more naive absurdity ? It is as if a man Avouldn't go to heaven 
 unless he went in a special train, or as if he thought (as some 
 people think about vaccination) Confirmation more effectual when 
 administered at first hand. When that eminent person, the 
 Begum Sumroo, died, it is said she left ten thousand pounds to 
 the Pope, and ten thousand to the Archbishop of Canterbury, — 
 so that there should be no mistake, — so as to make sure of having 
 the ecclesiastical authorities on her side. This is only a little 
 more openly and undisguisedly snobbish than the cases before 
 alluded to. A well-bred Snob is just as secretly proud of his 
 riches and honours as a parvenu Snob who makes the most 
 ludicrous exhibition of them ; and a high-born Marchioness or 
 Duchess just as vain of herself and her diamonds, as Queen 
 Quashyboo, who sews a pair of epaulets on to her skirt, and turns 
 out in state in a cocked hat and feathers. 
 
 It is not out of disrespect to my peerage, which I love and 
 honour, (indeed, have I not said before, that I should be ready to 
 jump out of my skin if two Dukes would walk down Pall Mall 
 with me ?) — it is not out of disrespect for the individuals, tliat I 
 wish these titles had never been invented ; but, consider, if there 
 were no tree, there would be no shadow ; and ho\v much more
 
 46 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 honest society would be, aud Low uiucli more serviceable tlie 
 clergy would be (wliicb is our present consideration) if these 
 temptations of rank and continual baits of worldliness were not in 
 existence, and perpetually thrown out to lead them astray. 
 
 I have seen many examples of their falling away. ^V^hen, for 
 instance, Tom Sniffle first went into the country as Curate for 
 jMr. Fuddlestone, (Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone's brother,) who 
 resided on some other living, there could not be a more kind, hard- 
 working, and excellent creature, than Tom. He had his aunt to 
 live with him. His conduct to his poor was admirable. He wrote 
 annually reams of the best-intentioned and most vapid sermons. 
 "When Lord Brandyball's family first came down into the country, 
 and invited him to dine at Brandyball Park, Sniffle was so agitated 
 that he almost forgot how to say grace, and upset a bowl of 
 currant-jelly sauce in Lady Fanny Toffy's lap. 
 
 "What was the consequence of his intimacj' with that noble 
 family ? He quarrelled with his aunt for dining out every night. 
 The wretch forgot his poor altogether, and killed his old nag by 
 always riding over to Brandyball ; where he revelled in the maddest 
 passion for Lady Fanny. He ordered the neatest new clothes and 
 ecclesiastical waistcoats from London ; he appeared with corazza- 
 shirts, lackered boots, and perfumery ; he bought a blood-horse 
 from Bob Toffy : was seen at archery meetings, public breakfasts, 
 — actually at cover ; and, I blush to say, that I saw him in a stall 
 xit the Opera ; and afterwards riding by Lady Fanny's side in 
 Hotten E.OW. He (loiille-harrelled his name, (as many poor Snobs 
 do,) and instead of T, Sniffle, as formerly, came out, in a porcelain 
 card, as Eev. T. D'Arcy Sniffle, Burlington Hotel. 
 
 The end of all this may be imagined : when the Earl of Brandy- 
 ball was made acquainted with the curate's love for Lady Fanny, 
 he had that fit of the gout which so nearly carried him off" (to the 
 inexpressible grief of his sou, Lord Alicompayne), and uttered that 
 remarkable speech to Sniffle, which disposed of the claims of the 
 latter : — " If I did'nt respect the Church, Sir," his Lordship said, 
 " by Jove, I'd kick you down staix's : " his Lordship then fell back 
 into the fit aforesaid, and Lady Fanny, as we all know, married 
 General Podager. 
 
 As for poor Tom, he was over head aud ears in debt as well as
 
 ON CLERICAL SNOBS. 47 
 
 in love : his creditors came down upon liim. Mr. Hemp, of 
 Portugal Street, proclaimed his name lately as a reverend outlaw ; 
 and he has been seen at various foreign watering-places ; some- 
 times doing duty ; sometimes " coaching " a stray gentleman's 
 son at Carlsruhe or Kissingen ; sometimes — must we say it ? — 
 lurking about the roulette-tables with a tuft to his chin. 
 
 If temptation had not come upon this unhappy fellow in the 
 shape of a Lord Braudyball, he miglit still have been followiug his 
 profession, humbly and worthil3\ He might have married his 
 cousin with four thousand pounds, the wine-merchant's daughter 
 (the old gentleman quarrelled with his nephew for not soliciting 
 wine-orders from Lord B. for liim) : he might have had seven 
 children, and taken private pupils, and eked out his income, and 
 lived and died a country parson. 
 
 Could he have done better ? Tou who want to know how great 
 and good, and noble such a character may be, read Stanley's " Life 
 of Doctor Arnold." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON CLERICAL S^'OBS. 
 
 Among the varieties of the Snob Clerical, the University Snob, 
 and the Scholastic Snob ought never to be forgotten ; they form a 
 very strong battalion in the black-coated army. 
 
 The wisdom of our ancestors (which I admire more and more 
 every day) seemed to have determined that the education of youth 
 was so paltry and unimportant a matter, that almost any man, armed 
 with a bircli and a regulation cassock and degree, might undertake 
 the charge : and many an honest country gentleman may be found 
 to the present day, who takes very good care to liave a cliaracter 
 with his butler when he engages him, and will not purchase a horse 
 without the strongest warranty and the closest inspection ; but 
 sends oiF his son, young John Thomas, to school without asking 
 any questions about the Schoolmaster, and places the lad at 
 Switchester College, under Doctor Block, because he (the good 
 old English gentleman) had been at Switchester, under Doctor 
 Buzwig, forty years ago.
 
 48 THE BOOK OF SX0B3. 
 
 "We have a love for all little boys at school ; for many scores of 
 thousands of them read and love Fundi : — may he never write a 
 word that shall not be honest and fit for them to read ! He will 
 not have his young friends to be Snobs in the future, or to be 
 bullied by Suobs, or given over to such to be educated. Our con- 
 nexion with the youth at the Universities is very close and afiec- 
 tionate. The candid undergraduate is our friend. The pompous old 
 College Don trembles in his common room, lest we should attack 
 him and show him up as a Snob. 
 
 "When railroads were threatening to invade the land which they 
 have since conquered, it may be recollected what a shrieking and 
 outcry the autliorities of Oxford and Eton made, lest the iron 
 abomiuations should come near those seats of pure learning, and 
 tempt the British youth astray. The supplications were in vain ; 
 the railroad is in upon them, and the Old- "World institutions are 
 doomed. I felt charmed to read in the papers the other day a 
 most A-eracious pufBng advertisement headed, " To College 
 and back for Five Shillings." " The College Gardens (it said) 
 will be thrown open on this occasion ; the College youths will 
 perform a regatta ; the Chapel of King's College will have its 
 celebrated music ; " — and all for five shillings ! The G-oths have 
 got into Home ; Napoleon Stephenson draws his republican lines 
 round the sacred old cities ; and the ecclesiastical big-wigs, 
 who garrison them, must prepare to lay down key and crosier 
 before the iron conqueror. 
 
 If you consider, dear reader, what profound snobbishness the 
 University System produced, you will allow that it is time to 
 attack some of those feudal middle-age superstitious. If you go 
 down for five shillings to look at the " College Youths," you may 
 see one sneaking down the court without a tassel to his cap ; 
 another with a gold or silver fringe to his velvet trencher : a third 
 lad with a master's gown and hat, walking at ease over the sacred 
 College grass-plats, which common men must not tread on. 
 
 He may do it because he is a nobleman. Because a lad is a lord, 
 the University gives him a degree at the end of two years, which 
 another is seven in acquiring. Because he is a lord, he has no call 
 to go through an examination. Any man who has not been to 
 College and back for five shilliufrs, would not believe in such dis-
 
 ON CLERICAL SNOBS. 49 
 
 tinctions in a place of education, so absurd and monstrous do they 
 seem to be. 
 
 The lads witb gold and silver lace are sons of rich gentlemen, 
 and called Fellow Commoners ; they are privileged to feed better 
 than the pensioners, and to have wine with their victuals, which 
 the latter can only get in their rooms. 
 
 The unlucky boys who have no tassels to their caps, are called 
 sizars — servitors at Oxford — (a very pretty and gentlemanlike 
 title). A distinction is made in their clothes because they are 
 poor ; for which reason they wear a badge of poverty, and are not 
 allowed to take their meals with their fellow-students. 
 
 When this wicked and shameful distinction was set up, it was 
 of a piece with all the rest — a part of the brutal, unchristian, 
 blundering feudal system. Distiuctions of rank were then so 
 strongly insisted upon, that it would have been thought blasphemy 
 to doubt them, as blasphemous as it is in parts of the United 
 States now, for a nigger to set up as the equal of a white man. A 
 ruffian like Henry VIII. talked as gravely about the divine powers 
 vested in him, as if he had been an inspired prophet. A wretch 
 like James I. not only believed that there was in himself a 
 particular sanctity, but other people believed him. Government 
 regulated the length of a merchant's shoes as well as meddled with 
 his trade, prices, exports, machinery. It thought itself justified 
 in roasting a man for his religion, or pulling a Jew's teeth out if 
 he did not pay a contribution, or ordered him to dress in a yellow 
 gabardine, and locked him in a particular quarter. 
 
 Now a merchant may wear what boots he pleases, and has 
 pretty nearly acquired the piivilege of buying and selling without 
 the Government laying its paws upon the bargain. The stake for 
 heretics is gone ; the pillory is taken down ; Bishops are even 
 found lifting up their voices against the remains of persecution, 
 and ready to do away with the last Catholic Disabilities. Sir 
 Hobert Peel, though he wished it ever so much, has no power over 
 Mr. Benjamin Disraeli's grinders, or any means of violently 
 handling that gentleman's jaw. Jews are not called upon to 
 wear badges : on the contrary, they may live in Piccadilly, or the 
 Minories, according to fancy ; they may dress like Christians, and 
 do sometimes in a most elegant and fashionable manner.
 
 50 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 "Why is the poor College servitor to wear that name and that 
 badge still ? Because Universities are the last places into ■which 
 Eeform penetrates. But now that she can go to College and back 
 for five shillings, let her travel down thither. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 OK TJKITEESITT SNOBS. 
 
 All the men of Saint Boniface will recognise Hugby and Crump 
 in these two pictures. They were tutors in our time, and Crump 
 is since advanced to be President of the College. He was formerly, 
 and is now, a rich specimen of a University snob. 
 
 At five-and-twenty. Crump invented three new metres, and 
 published an edition of an exceedingly improper Greek Comedy, 
 with no less than twenty emendations upon the German text of 
 Schnupfenius and Schnapsius. These services to religion instantly 
 pointed him out for advancement in the Church, and he is now 
 President of St. Boniface, and very narrowly escaped the bench. 
 
 Crump tliinks St. Boniface the centre of the world, and his 
 position as President the higliest in England. He expects the 
 fellows and tutors to pay him the same sort of service that 
 Cardinals pay to the Pope. I am sure Crawler would have no 
 objection to carry his trencher, or Page to hold up the skirts of 
 his gown as he stalks into chapel. He roars out the responses 
 there as if it were an honour to heaven, tliat the President of St. 
 Boniface should take a part in the service, and in his own lodge 
 and college acknowledges the Sovereign only as his superior. 
 
 "When the allied monarchs came down, and were made Doctors 
 of the University, a breakfast was given at St. Boniface ; on which 
 occasion Crump allowed the Emperor Alexander to walk before 
 him, but took the j^ as himself of the King of Prussia and Prince 
 Blucher. He was going to put the Hetman PlatofF to breakfast 
 at a side-table with the under-college tutors ; but he was induced 
 to relent, and merely entertained that distinguished Cossack with 
 a discourse on his own language, in which he showed that the 
 Hetman knew nothing about it.
 
 ON UNIVERSITY SNOBS. 51 
 
 As for us undergraduates, we scarcely knew more about Crump 
 than about the Grand Lama. A few favoured youths are asked 
 occasionally to tea at the lodge ; but they do not speak unless 
 first addressed by the Doctor ; and if they venture to sit down, 
 Crump's follower, Mr. Toady, whispers, " Gentlemen, will you 
 have the kindness to get up ? — The President is passing ; " or 
 " Gentlemen, tlie President prefers that undergraduates should 
 not sit down ; " or words to a similar effect. 
 
 To do Crump justice, he does not cringe now to great people. 
 He rather patronises them than otherwise ; and, in London, speaks 
 quite affably to a Duke who has been brought up at his college, or 
 holds out a finger to a Marquis. He does not disguise his own 
 origin, but brags of it with considerable self-gratulation : — " I was 
 a Charity-boy," says he; "see what I am now; the greatest 
 Greek scholar of the greatest College of the greatest University 
 of the greatest Empire in the world." The argument being, that 
 this is a capital world for beggars, because he, being a beggar, has 
 managed to get on horseback, 
 
 Hugby owes his eminence to patient merit and agreeable 
 perseverance. He is a meek, mild, inoffensive creature, with just 
 enough of scholarship to fit him to hold a lecture, or set an 
 examination paper. He rose by kindness to the aristocracy. It 
 was wonderful to see the way in which that poor creature grovelled 
 before a nobleman or a lord's nepliew, or even some noisy and 
 disreputable commoner, the friend of a lord. He used to give the 
 young noblemen the most painful and elaborate breakfasts, and 
 adopt a jaunty genteel air, and talk with them (althougli he was 
 decidedly serious) about the opera, or the last run with the hounds. 
 It was good to watch him in the midst of a circle of young tufts, 
 with his mean, smiling, eager, uneasy familiarity. He used to 
 Avrite home confidential letters to their parents, and made it his 
 duty to call upon them when in town, to condole or rejoice with 
 them when a death, birth, or marriage took place in their family ; 
 and to feast them whenever they came to the University. I 
 recollect a letter lying on a desk in his lecture-room for a whole 
 term, beginning, " My Lord Duke." It was to show us that he 
 corresponded with such dignities. 
 
 "When the late lamented Lord Glenlivat, who broke his neck at
 
 52 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 a hurdle-race, at tlie premature age of twenty-four, was at the 
 University, the amiable young fellow, passing to his rooms in the 
 early morning, and seeing Hugby's boots at his door, on the same 
 staircase, playfully wadded the insides of the boots with cobbler's 
 wax, which caused excruciating pains to the Eev. INIr. Hugby, when 
 he came to take them off the same evening, before dining with 
 the Master of St. Crispin's. 
 
 Everybody gave the credit of this admirable piece of fun to 
 Lord Glenlivat's friend, Bob Tizzy, who was famous for such 
 feats, and who had already made away with the college pump- 
 handle ; filed St. Boniface's nose smooth with his face ; carried off 
 four images of nigger-boys from the tobacconists ; painted the 
 senior proctor's horse pea-green, &c., &c. ; and Bob (who was of 
 the party certainly, and would not peach) was just on the point of 
 incurring expulsion, and so losing the family living which was in 
 store for him, when Glenlivat nobly stepped forward, owned him- 
 self to be the author of the delightful jeu d' esprit, apologised to 
 the tutor, and accepted the rustication. 
 
 Hugby cried when Glenlivat apologised ; if the young nobleman 
 had kicked him round the court, I believe the tutor would have 
 been happy, so that an apology and a reconciliation might sub- 
 sequently ensue. "My lord," said he, " in your conduct on this 
 and all other occasions, you have acted as becomes a gentleman ; 
 you have been aii honour to the University, as you will be to the 
 peerage, I am sure, when the amiable vivacity of youth is calmed 
 down, and you are called upon to take your proper share in the 
 government of the nation." And when his lordship took leave of 
 the University, Hugby presented him a copy of his " Sermons 
 to a Nobleman's Family " (Hugby was once private tutor to the 
 sous of the Earl of Muffborough) which Glenlivat presented in 
 return to Mr. William Eamm, known to the fancy as the Tutbury 
 Pet, and the sermons now figure on the boudoir-table of Mrs. 
 Eamm, behind the bar of her house of entertainment, " The 
 Game Cock and Spurs," near Woodstock, Oxon. 
 
 At the beginning of the long vacation, Hugby comes to town, 
 and puts up in handsome lodgings near St. James's Square ; rides 
 in the Park in the afternoon ; and is delighted to read his name 
 ia the morning papers among the list of persons present at Muft-
 
 ON UNIVERSITY SNOBS. 53 
 
 borougli House, and the Marquis of FarintosU's evening parties. 
 He is a member of Sydney Scraper's Club, where, however, lie 
 di'inlvs his pint of claret. 
 
 Sometimes you may see him on Sundays, at the hour when 
 tavern doors open, whence issue little girls with great jugs of 
 porter ; when charity-boys walk the streets, bearing brown dishes 
 of smoking shoulders of mutton and baked 'taturs ; when Sheeny 
 and Moses are seen smol^ing their pipes before their lazy shutters 
 in Seven-Dials ; when a crowd of smiling persons in clean out- 
 landish dresses, in monstrous bonnets and flaring printed gowns, 
 or in crumpled glossy coats and silks, that bear the creases of the 
 . drawers where they have lain all the week, file down High Street, 
 — sometimes, I say, you may see Hugby coming out of the Church 
 of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, with a stout gentlewoman leaning on 
 his arm, whose old face beai's an expression of supreme pride and 
 happiness as she glances round at all the neighbours, and who 
 faces the Curate himself, and marches into Holborn, where she 
 pulls the bell of a house, over which is inscribed, " Hugby, 
 Haberdasher." It is the mother of the Eev. P. Hugby, as proud 
 of her son in his white choker as Cornelia of her jewels at Eome. 
 That is old Hugby bringing up the rear with the Prayer-books, 
 and Betsy Hugby, the old maid, his daugliter, — old Hugbv, 
 Haberdasher and Churchwarden. 
 
 In the front room up-stairs, where the dinner is laid out, there 
 is a picture of Muffborough Castle; of the Earl of Muffborough, 
 K.X., Lord Lieutenant for Diddlescx ; an engraving from an 
 Almanac, of St. Bonifiice College, Oxon. ; and a sticking-plaister 
 portrait of Hugby when young, in a cap and gown. A copy of 
 his "Sermons to a Nobleman's Family" is on the book-shelf by 
 the "AVhole Duty of Man," the Eeports of the Missionary 
 Societies, and the Oxford University Calendar. Old Hugby 
 knows part of tins by heart; every living belonging to Saint 
 Boniface, and the name of every tutor, fellow, nobleman, and 
 undergraduate. 
 
 He used to go to meeting and preach himself, until his son 
 took orders ; but of late the old gentleman has been accused of 
 Puseyism, and is quite pitiless against the Dissenters.
 
 54 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 ox UNIYEUSITT SXOBS. 
 
 I snorLB like to fill several volumes with accounts of various 
 University Snobs ; so fond are iny reminiscences of them, and so 
 numerous are they. I should like to speak, above all, of the •wives 
 and daughters of some of the Professor-Snobs ; their amusements, 
 habits, jealousies ; their innocent artifices to entrap young men ; 
 their pic-nics, concerts, and evening parties. I wonder what has 
 become of Emily Blades, daughter of Blades the Professor of the 
 Mandingo language ? I remember her shoulders to this day, as 
 she sate in the midst of a crowd of about seventy young gentle- 
 men, from Corpus and Catherine Hall, entertaining them with, 
 ogles and Prench songs on the guitar. Are you married, fair 
 Emily of the shoulders ? "What beautiful ringlets those were that 
 used to dribble over them ! — what a waist ! — what a killing sea- 
 green shot-silk gown! — what a cameo, the size of a mufSn ! There 
 were thirty-six young men of the University in love at one time 
 with Emily Blades : and no words are sufficient to describe the 
 pity, the sorrow, the deep, deep commiseration — the rage, fury, 
 and uncliaritableness, in other words — with which the Miss Trumps 
 (daughter of Trumps, the professor of Phlebotomj-) regarded her, 
 because she didnt squint, and because she wasii't marked with the 
 small-pox. 
 
 As for the young University Snobs, I am getting too old, 
 now, to speak of such very familiarly. jNIy recollections of them 
 lie in the far, far past — almost as far back as Pelham's time. 
 
 "We tlioi used to consider Snobs, raw-looking lads, who never 
 missed chapel ; who wore high-lows and no straps ; who walked 
 two hours on the Trumpington road every day of their lives ; who 
 carried ofi" the College scholarships, and who overrated themselves 
 in hall. We were premature in pronouncing our verdict of youth- 
 ful Snobbishness. The man without sti'aps fulfilled his destiny 
 and duty. lie eased his old Governor, the Curate in "Westmore- 
 land, or helped his sisters to set up the Lady's School. He wrote 
 a Dictionary'-, or a Treatise on Conic Sections, as liis nature and
 
 ON UNIVERSITY SNOBS. 55 
 
 genius prompted. He got a fellowship : and tlien took to himself 
 a wife, and a living. He presides over a parish now, and thinks it 
 rather a dashing thing to belong to the Oxford and Cambridge 
 Club ; and his parishioners love him, and snore under his sermons. 
 No, no, he is not a Snob. It is not straps that make the gentle- 
 man, or high-lows that unmake him, be they ever so thick. My 
 son, it is you who are the Snob if you lightly despise a man for 
 doing his duty, and refuse to shake an honest man's hand because 
 it wears a Berlin glove. 
 
 We then used to consider it not the least vulgar for a parcel of 
 lads who had been whipped three months previous, and were not 
 allowed more than three glasses of port at home, to sit down to 
 pine-apples and ices at each others' rooms, and fuddle themselves 
 with champagne and claret. 
 
 One looks back to what was called " a wine-party" with a sort 
 of wonder. Thirty lads round a table covered with bad sweet- 
 meats, drinking bad wines, telling bad stories, singing bad songs 
 over and over again. Milk punch — smoking — ghastly headache — 
 frightful spectacle of dessert table next morning, and smell of 
 tobacco — your guardian, the clergyman, dropping in, in the midst 
 of this — expecting to find you deep in Algebra, and discovering 
 the Gyp administering soda-water. 
 
 There were young men who despised the lads who indulged in 
 the coarse hospitalities of wine-parties, who prided themselves in 
 giving 7-ec7ierc7ies little French dinners. Both wine-party-givers 
 and dinner-givers were Snobs. 
 
 There were what used to be called "dressy " Snobs : — Jimmy, 
 who might be seen at five o'clock elaborately rigged out, with a 
 camellia in his button-hole, glazed boots, and fresh kid gloves twice 
 a day; — Jessamy, who was conspicuous for his "jewellery," — a 
 young donkey, glittering all over with chains, rings, and shirt- 
 studs ; — Jacky, who rode every day solemnly on the Blenheim 
 Eoad, in pumps and white silk stockings, with his hair curled, — 
 all three of whom flattered themselves they gave laws to the 
 University about dress — all three most odious varieties of Snobs. 
 
 Sporting Snobs of course there were, and are always — those 
 happy beings in whom Nature has implanted a love of slang : who 
 loitered about the horsekceper's stables, and drove the London
 
 56 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 coaches — a stage in and out, and might be seen STvaggering 
 through the courts in pink of early mornings, and indulged in dice 
 and blind-hookey at nights, and never missed a race, or a boxing- 
 match ; and rode flat-races, and kept bull-terriers. "Worse Snobs 
 even than these "were poor miserable wretches, who did not like 
 hunting at all, and could not afford it, and were in mortal fear at 
 a two-foot ditch ; but who hunted because Glenlivat and 
 Cinqbars hunted. The Billiard Snob and the Boating Snob 
 were varieties of these, and are to be found elsewhere than 
 in Universities. 
 
 Then there were Philosophical Snobs, who used to ape states- 
 men at the Spouting Clubs, and who believed as a fact, that 
 Government always had an eye on the University where to select 
 orators for tlie House of Commons. There were audacious young 
 Free-thinkers, who adored nobody or nothing, except perhaps 
 Eobespierre and the Koran, and panted for the day when the pale 
 name of priest should shrink and dwindle away before the indig- 
 nation of an enlightened world. 
 
 But the worst of all University Snobs, are those unfortunates 
 who go to rack and ruin from their desire to ape their betters. 
 Smith becomes acquainted with great people at College, and is 
 ashamed of his father the tradesman. Jones has fine acquaint- 
 ances, and lives after their fashion like a gay free-hearted fellow as 
 he is, and ruins his father, and robs his sister's portion, and 
 cripples his younger brother's outset in life, for the pleasure of 
 entertaining my lord, and riding by the side of Sir John. And 
 though it may be very good fun for E,obinson to fuddle himself at 
 home as he does at College, and to be brought home by tlie police- 
 man lie has just been trying to knock down — think what fun it is 
 for the poor old soul, his mother! — the half-pay Captain's widow, 
 who has been pinching herself all her life long, in order that that 
 jolly young fellow might have a University Education.
 
 ON LITERARY SNOBS. 57 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OK LITEEAliT SNOBS. 
 
 What will lie say about Literary Snobs ? has been a question, 
 I make no doubt, often asked by the public. How can he let off 
 his own profession ? Will that truculent and unsparing monster 
 who attacks the nobility, the clergy, the army, and the ladies, 
 indiscriminately, hesitate when the turn comes to ecjorger his own 
 flesh and blood ? 
 
 My dear and excellent querist, whom does the Schoolmaster flog 
 so resolutely as his own son ? Didn't Brutus chop his ofi"spriug's 
 head oif ? You have a very bad opinion indeed of the present 
 state of Literature and of literary men, if you fancy that any one 
 of us would hesitate to stick a knife into his neighbour penman, if 
 the latter's death could do the state any service. 
 
 But the fact is, that in the literary profession theee are no 
 Snobs. Look round at the whole body of British men of letters, 
 and I defy you to point out amoug them a single instance of vul- 
 garity, or envy, or assumption. 
 
 Men and women, as far as I have known them, they are all 
 modest in their demeanour, elegant in their manners, spotless in 
 their lives, and honourable in their conduct to the world and to 
 each other. You inay, occasionally, it is true, hear one literary 
 man abusing his brother ; but why ? Not in the least out of 
 malice ; not at all from envy ; merely from a sense of truth and 
 public duty. Suppose, for instance, I good-naturedly point out a 
 blemish in my friend Ilr. Punclis person, and say, Mr. P. has a 
 hump-back, and his nose and chin are more crooked than those 
 features in the Apollo or Antinous, which we are accustomed to 
 consider as our standards of beauty ; does this argue malice on 
 my part towards Mr. Fundi ? Not in the least. It is the critic's 
 duty to point out defects as well as merits, and he invariably does 
 his duty with the utmost gentleness and candour. 
 
 An intelligent foreigner's testimony about our manners is 
 always worth liaviug, and I think, in this respect, the work of an 
 eminent American, ]Mr. N. P. "Willis, is eminently valuable and
 
 53 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 impartial. lu his " History of Ernest Clay," a crack Magazine 
 "writer, the reader will get an exact account of tbe life of a popular 
 man of letters iu England. He is always tlie great lion of society. 
 
 He takes the pas of Dukes and Earls ; all the nobility crowd to 
 see him : I forget how many Baronesses and Duchesses fall in 
 lore with him. But on this subject let us hold our tongues. 
 Modesty forbids that we should reveal the names of the heart- 
 broken Countesses and dear Marchionesses who are pining for 
 every one of the contributors in this periodical. 
 
 If anybody wants to know how intimately authors are connected 
 with the fashionable world, they have but to read the genteel 
 novels. What refinement and delicacy pervades the works of 
 Mrs. Baruaby ! What delightful good company do you meet with 
 in Mrs. Armytage ! She seldom introduces you to anybody under 
 ■a. Marquis ! I don't know anything more delicious than the 
 pictures of genteel life in Te?i Tlioiisand a Year, except perhaps 
 the Young Dulce, and Coningshy. There's a modest grace about 
 them, and an air of easy high fashion, which only belongs to blood, 
 my dear Sir — to true blood. 
 
 And what linguists many of our writers are ! Lady Bulwer, 
 Lady Londonderry, Sir Edward himself — they write the French 
 language with a luxurious elegance and ease, which sets them far 
 above their continental rivals, of whom not one (except Paul de 
 Kock) knows a word of English. 
 
 And what Briton can read without enjoyment the works of James, 
 so admirable for terseness ; and the playful humour and dazzling 
 off-hand lightness of Ainsworth ? Among other humorists, one 
 might glance at a Jcrrold, the chivalrous advocate of Toryism 
 and Church and State ; an a Beckett, with a lightsome pen, but a 
 savage earnestness of purpose ; a Jeames, whose pure style, and 
 wit unmingled with buffoonery, was relished by a congenial public. 
 
 Speaking of critics, perhaps there never was a review that has 
 done so much for literature as the admirable Quarterly. It ha,p 
 its prejudices, to be sure, as which of us have not. It goes out of 
 its way to abuse a great man, or lays mercilessly on to such 
 pretenders as Keats and Tennyson ; but on the otiier hand, it is 
 the friend of all young authors, aiid has marked and nurtured all 
 the rising talent of the country. It is loved by everybody. There,
 
 ox LITERARY SNOBS. 59 
 
 again is BlacTcwoocV s Maga~ine — conspicuous for modest elegance 
 and amiable satire ; that Eeview never passes the bounds of 
 politeness in a joke. It is the arbiter of manners ; and, while 
 gently exposing the foibles of Londoners (for whom the heaux 
 esprits of Edinburgh entertain a justifiable contempt), it is never 
 coarse in its fun. The fiery enthusiasm of the Athenceum is well- 
 known : and the bitter wit of the too difficult Literary Gazette. The 
 Examiner is perhaps too timid, and the Spectator too boisterous in 
 its praise — but who can carp at these minor faults ? No, no ; the 
 critics of England and the authors of England are unrivalled as a 
 body; and hence it becomes impossible for us to find fault with them. 
 
 Above all, I never knew a man of letters ashamed of Jiis ^wo- 
 fession. Those who know us, know what an aftectionate and 
 brotherly spirit there is among us all. Sometimes one of us rises 
 in the world : we never attack him or sneer at hitn under those 
 circumstances, but rejoice to a man at his success. If Jones dines 
 with a lord. Smith never says Jones is a courtier and cringer. 
 Nor, on the other hand, does Jones, who is in the habit of 
 frequenting the society of great people, give himself any airs on 
 account of the company he keeps ; but will leave a Duke's arm in 
 Pall Mall to come over and speak to poor Brown, the young 
 penny-a-liner. 
 
 That sense of equality and fraternity amongst Authoi's has 
 always struck me as one of the most amiable characteristics of the 
 class. It is because we kuow^ and respect each other, that the 
 world respects us so much ; that we hold such a good position in 
 society, and demean ourselves so irreproachably when tliere. 
 
 Literary persons are held in such esteem by the nation, that 
 about two of them have been absolutely invited to Court during 
 the present reign ; and it is probable that towards the end of the 
 season, one or two will be asked to dinner by Sir Eobert Peel. 
 
 They are such favourites with the public, that they are con- 
 tinually obliged to have their pictures taken and published ; and 
 one or two could be pointed out, of whom tlie nation insists upon, 
 having a fresh portrait every year. Nothing can be more grati- 
 fying than this proof of the affectionate regard which the people 
 has for its instructors. 
 
 Literature is held in such honour in England, that there is a
 
 ^0 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 sum of near twelve liundred poimds per annum set apart to 
 pension deserving persons following that profession. And a 
 great compliraent this is, too, to the professors, and a proof of 
 their generally prosperous and flourishing condition. They are 
 generally so rich and thrifty, that scarcely any money is wanted 
 to help them. 
 
 If every word of this is true, how, I should like to know, am I 
 to write about Literarv Snobs ? 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A LITTLE ABOUT lEISII SK033S. 
 
 You do not, to be sure, imagine that there are no other Snobs 
 in Ireland than those of the amiable party who wish to make 
 pikes of iron railroads, (it's a fine Irish economy) and to cut the 
 throats of the Saxon invaders. These are of the venemous sort ; 
 and had they been invented in his time, St. Patrick would have 
 banished them out of the kingdom along with the other dangerous 
 reptiles. 
 
 I think it is the Pour Masters, or else it's Olaus Magnus, or 
 else it's certainly O'Neill Daunt, in the Catechism of Irish 
 History, who relates that when Richard the Second came to 
 Ireland, and the Irish Chiefs did homage to him, going down on 
 their knees — the poor simple creatures ! — and worshipping and 
 wondering before the English king and the dandies of his Court, 
 my lords the English noblemen mocked and jeered at their 
 uncouth Irish admirers, mimicked their talk and gestures, pulled 
 their poor old beards, and laughed at the strange fashion of 
 their garments. 
 
 The English Snob rampant always does this to the present day. 
 There is no Snob in existence, perhaps, that has such an in- 
 domitable belief in himself: that sneers you down all the 
 rest of the world besides, and has such an insufferable, ad- 
 mirable, stupid contempt for all people but his own — nay, for all 
 sets but his own. " Gwacious Gad!" what stories about " the 
 Iwish" these young dandies accompanying King llichard must
 
 A LITTLE ABOUT IRISH SNOBS. 61 
 
 have Lad to tell, when they retui'ned to Pall jMall, and smoked 
 their cigars upon the steps of White's ! 
 
 The Irish snobbishness developes itself not in pride so much as 
 in servility and mean admirations, and trumpery imitations of 
 their neighbours. And I wonder De Tocqueville and De Beau- 
 mont, and the Times Commissioner, did not explain the Snobbish- 
 ness of Ireland as contrasted with our own. Ours is that of 
 Eichard's Norman Knights, — haughty, brutal, stupid, and 
 perfectly self-confident ; — theirs, of the poor, wondering, kneeling, 
 simple chieftains. They are on their Itnees still before English 
 fashion — these simple, wild people ; and indeed it is hard not to 
 grin at some of their naive exhibitions. 
 
 Some years since, when a certain great orator was Lord Mayor 
 of Dublin, he used to wear a red gown and a cocked hat, the 
 splendour of which delighted him as much as anew curtain-ring in 
 her nose or a string of glass beads round her neck charms Queen 
 Quasheeneaboo. He used to pay visits to people in this dress ; to 
 appear at meetings hundreds of miles off, in the red velvet gown. 
 And to hear the people crying "Yes, me Lard !" and "No, me 
 Lard !" and to read the prodigious accounts of his Lordship in the 
 papers : it seemed as if the people and he liked to be taken in by 
 this twopenny splendour. Twopenny magnificence, indeed, exists 
 all over Ireland, and may be considered as the great characteristic 
 of the Snobbishness of that country. 
 
 "When Mrs. Mulholligan, the grocer's lady, retires to Kings- 
 town, she has " Mulholliganville " painted over the gate of her 
 villa ; and receives you at a door that won't shut, or gazes at }ou 
 out of a window that is glazed with an old petticoat. 
 
 Be it ever so shabby and dismal, nobody ever owns to keeping a 
 shop. A fellow whose stock in trade is a penny roll or a tumbler 
 of lollipops, calls his cabin the " American Flour Stores," or the 
 " Depository for Colonial Produce," or some such name. 
 
 As for Inns, there are none in the country ; Hotels abound, as 
 well furnished as Mulholliganville ; but again, there are no such 
 people as landlords and landladies , the landlord is out with the 
 hounds, and my lady, in the parlour talking with the Captain or 
 playing the piano. 
 
 If a gentleman has a hundred a year to leave to his family they
 
 &2 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 all become gentlemen, all keep a nag, ride to hounds, and swagger 
 about in the " Phaynix," and grow tufts to their chins like so 
 many real aristocrats. 
 
 A friend of mine has' taken to be a painter, and lives out of 
 Ireland, where he is considered to have disgraced the family by 
 choosing such a profession. His father is a wine-merchant ; and 
 his elder brother an apothecary. 
 
 The number of men one meets in London and on the Continent 
 who have a pretty little property of five-and-twenty hundred a 
 year in Ireland is prodigious — those who will have nine thousand 
 a year in land when somebody dies are still more numerous. I 
 myself have met as many descendants from Irish kings as would 
 form a brigade. 
 
 And who has not met the Irishman who apes the Englishman, 
 and who forgets his country and tries to forget his accent, or to 
 smother the taste of it, as it were ? '• Come, dine with me, my 
 boy," says O'Dowd, of O'Dowdstown, '■ you'll Jlnd us all English 
 there ; " which he tells you with a brogue as broad as from here 
 to Kingstown Pier. And did you never hear Mrs. Captain 
 Macmanus talk about " I-ah-land," and her account of her 
 " fawther's esteet ? " Very few men have rubbed through the 
 world without hearing and witnessing some of these Hibernian 
 phenoaiena — these twopenny splendours. 
 
 And what say you to the summit of society — the Castle — with a 
 sham king, and sham lords-in-waiting, and sham loyalty, and a 
 sham Haroun Alraschid, to go about in a sham disguise, makiug- 
 beheve to be aftable and splendid ? That Castle is the pink and 
 pride of Snobbishness. A Court Circular is bad enough, with 
 two columns of print about a little baby that's christened — but 
 think of people liking a sham Court Circular ! 
 
 I think the shams of Ireland are more outrageous than those 
 of any country. A fellow shows you a hill and says, " That's 
 the highest mountain in all Ireland ;" or a gentleman tells you 
 he is descended from Brian Eoroo, and has his five-and-thirty 
 hundred a year ; or Mrs. Macmanus describes her fawther's 
 esteet ; or ould Dan rises and says the Irish women are the love- 
 liest, the Irishmen the bravest, the Irish laud the most fertile in 
 the world : and nobody believes auybody — the latter doesn't
 
 PARTY-GIVING SNOBS. 63 
 
 believe his story nor tlie hearer : — but tliey make-believe to 
 believe, and solemnly do honour to humbug. 
 
 Oh Ireland ! Oh my country ! (for I make little doubt that I 
 am descended from Brian Boroo too) when -nill you acknowledge 
 that two and two make four, and call a pikestaff a pikestaff? — 
 that is the very best use you can malce of the latter. Irish snobs 
 will dwindle away then, and we shall never hear tell of Hereditary 
 Bondsmen. 
 
 CHAPTEH XYIII. 
 
 PARTY-GIVING SNOBS. 
 
 Ol'R selection of Snobs for the past few weeks has been loo 
 exclusively of a political character.* "Give us private Snobs," 
 cry the dear ladies. (I have before me tlie letter of one fair 
 correspondent of the fishing village of Brighthelmstone in Sussex, 
 and could her commands ever be disobeyed ?) " Tell us more, dear 
 Mr. Snob, about your experience of Snobs in society." Heaven 
 bless the dear souls ! — they are accustomed to the word now — the 
 odious, vulgar, horrid, unpronounceable word slips out of their 
 lips with the prettiest glibness possible. I sliould not wonder if 
 it were used at Court amongst the Maids of Honour. In the 
 very best society I know it is. And why not ? Snobbishness is 
 vulgar — the mere words are not : that which we call a Snob, 
 by any other name would still be Snobbish. 
 
 Well, then. As the season is drawing to a close : as many 
 hundreds of kind souls, snobbish or otherwise, have quitted 
 London ; as many hospitable carpets are taken up ; and window- 
 blinds are pitilessly papered with the Morning Herald; and 
 mansions once inhabited by cheerful owners are now consigned to 
 the care of the housekeeper's dreary locum tenens — some mouldy 
 old woman, who, in reply to the hopeless clanging of the bell, peers 
 at you for a moment from the area, and then slowly uuboltino- the 
 
 * On re-penising these papers, I have found them so stupid, so personal, so 
 snobbish — in a Avord, that I have vithckawu them from this collection. 
 — The Skob.
 
 64 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 great hall door, iuforms you my lady has left town, or that " the 
 family's in the country," or " gone up the Eind," — or what not — 
 as the season and parties are over ; why not consider Party-giving 
 Snobs for awhile, and review the conduct of some of those 
 individuals who have quitted the town for six months ? 
 
 Some of those worthy Snobs are making-believe to go yachting 
 and, dressed in telescopes and pea-jackets, are passing their time 
 between Cherbourg and Cowes ; some living higgledy-piggledy in 
 dismal little huts in Scotland, provisioned with canisters of portable 
 soup, and fricandeaux hermetically sealed in tin, are passing their 
 days slaughtering grouse on the moors ; some are dosing and 
 bathing away the effects of the season at Kissigen, or watching 
 the ingenious game of Trente et quarante at Homburg and Ems. 
 We can afford to be very bitter upon them now they are all 
 gone, Now there are no more parties, let us have at the Party- 
 giving Snobs. The dinner-giving, the ball-giving, the dejeuner- 
 giving, the conversazione-g'wing Snobs — Lord ! Lord ! what havoc 
 might have been made amongst them had we attacked them during 
 the plethora of the season ! I should have been obliged to have 
 a guard to defend me from fiddlers and pastrycooks, indignant at 
 the abuse of their patrons. Already I'm told that, from some 
 flippant and unguarded expressions considered derogatory to 
 Baker Street and Harley Street, rents have fallen in these respec- 
 table quarters ; and orders have been issued that at least Mr. Suob 
 shall be asked to parties there no more. "Well, then — now they 
 are all away, let us frisk at our ease, and have at everything, like 
 the bull in the china-shop. They mayn't hear of what is going 
 on in their absence, and, if they do, they can't bear malice for six 
 months. We will begin to make it up with them about next 
 Eebruary, and let next year take care of itself AVe shall have 
 no more dinners from the dinner-giving Snobs : no more balls 
 from the ball-givers: no more conversaziones (tliank Mussy ! as 
 Jeames says,) from tlie Conversazione Suob : and what is to 
 prevent us from telling the truth ? 
 
 The snobbishness of Conversazione Snobs is very soon disposed 
 of; as soon as that cup of wasliy boliea tliat is handed to you in 
 the tea-room ; or the muddy remnant of ice that you grasp in the 
 suffocating scuffle of the assembly upstairs.
 
 rARTY-GIVING SNOBS. 65 
 
 Good Heavens ! "What do people mean by going there ? What 
 is done there, that everybody tlirongs into those three little 
 rooms ? "Was the Black Hole considered to be an agreeable 
 reunion, that Britons in the dog-days here seek to imitate it ? 
 After being rammed to a jelly in a door-way (where you feel 
 your feet going through Lady Barbara Macbeth's lace flounces, 
 and get a look from that haggard and painted old harpy, compared 
 to which the gaze of Ugolino is quite cheerful) ; after with- 
 drawing your elbow out of poor gasping Bob Guttleton's white 
 waistcoat, from which cushion it was impossible to remove it, 
 though you knew you were squeezing poor Bob into an apoplexy 
 — you find yourself at last in the reception-room, and try to catch, 
 the eye of Mrs. Botibol, the conversazione giver. When you 
 catch her eye, you are expected to grin, and she smiles too, for 
 the four hundredth time that night ; and, if she's very glad to see 
 you, waggles her little hand before her face as if to blow you a 
 kiss, as the phrase is. 
 
 AVhy the deuce should Mrs. Botibol blow me a kiss ? I 
 wouldn't kiss her for the world. Why do I grin when I see her, 
 as if I was delighted ? Am I ? I don't care a straw for Mrs, 
 Botibol. I know what she thinks abovit me. I know Avhat she 
 said about my last volume of poems (I had it from a dear mutual 
 friend). Why, I say in a word, are we going on ogling and tele- 
 graphing each other in this insane way ? — Because we are both 
 performing the ceremonies demanded by the Great Snob Society ; 
 whose dictates we all of us obey. 
 
 Well ; the recognition is over — my jaws have returned to their 
 usual English expression of subdued agony and intense gloom, 
 and the Botibol is grinning and kissing her fingers to somebody 
 else, who is squeezing through the aperture by which we have just 
 entered. It is Lady Ann Clutterbuck, who has her Friday 
 evenings, as Botibol (Botty, Ave call her,) has her Wednesdays. 
 That is Miss Clementina Clutterbuck, the cadaverous young 
 woman in green, with florid auburn hair, who has published her 
 volume of poems ("The Death-Shriek;" " Damien ; " "The 
 Faggot of Joan of Arc ; " and " Translations from the German " 
 — of course) — the conversazione women salute each other, calling 
 each other, "My dear Lady Ann," and "My dear good Eliza,"
 
 66 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 and hating each other, as women hate wlio give parties on 
 Wednesdays and Fridays. With inexpressible pain dear good 
 Eliza sees Ann go up and coax and wheedle Abou Gosh, who 
 has just arrived from Syria, and beg him to patronise her 
 Fridays. 
 
 All this while, amidst the crowd and the scuffle, and a per- 
 petual buzz and chatter, and the flare of the wax candles, and an 
 intolerable smeU of musk — what the poor Snobs who write fashion- 
 able romances call " the gleam of gems, the odour of perfumes, 
 the blaze of countless lamps " — a scrubby-looking, yellow-faced 
 foreigner, with cleaned gloves, is warbling inaudibly in a corner, 
 to the accompaniment of another. " The Great Cacafogo," Mrs. 
 Botibol whispers, as she passes you by — "A great creature, 
 Thumpenstrumpff, is at the instrument — the Hetman PlatoflTs 
 Pianist, you know." 
 
 To hear this Cacafogo and Thumpenstrumpff, a hundred people 
 are gathei'ed together — a bevy of dowagers, stout or scraggy ; a 
 faint sprinkling of misses; six moody-looking lords, perfectly 
 meek and solemn ; wonderful foreign Counts, with bushy whiskers 
 and yellow faces, and a great deal of dubious jewellery ; young 
 dandies with slim waists and open necks, and self-satisfied simpers, 
 and flowers in their buttons; the old, stiff, stout, bald-headed 
 conversazione roiit'es, whom you meet everywhere — who never 
 miss a night of this delicious enjoyment ; the three last-caught 
 lions of the season — Higgs, the traveller ; Biggs, the novelist, 
 and Toffey, who has come out so on the sugar question ; Captain 
 Plash, who is invited on account of his pretty wife, and Lord 
 Ogleby, who goes wherever she goes — qne sais-je? Who are the 
 owners of all those showy scarfs and white neck-cloths ? — Ask 
 little Tom Prig, who is there in all his glory, knows everybody, 
 has a story about every one; and, as he trips home to his 
 lodgings, in Jermyn-street, with his Gibus-hat and his little 
 glazed pumps, thinks he is the fashionablest young fellow in 
 town, and that he really has passed a night of exquisite enjoy- 
 ment. 
 
 Tou go up (with your usual easy elegance of manner) and talk 
 to Miss Smith iu a corner. " Oh, Mr. Snob, I'm afraid you're 
 sadly satirical."
 
 DINING-OUT SNOBS. 67 
 
 That's all she says. If jo\i say it's fine weather, she bursts 
 out laughing ; or hint that it's very hot, she vows you are the 
 drollest wretch ! Meanwhile Mrs. Botibol is simpering on fresh 
 arrivals ; the individual at the door is roaring out their names ; 
 poor Cacafogo is quavering away in the music-room, under the 
 impression that he will be lance in the world by singing in- 
 audibly here. And what a blessing it is to squeeze out of the 
 door, and into the street, where a half-hundred of carriages are 
 in waiting ; and where the link-boy, vrith that unnecessary 
 lanthorn of his, pounces upon all who issue out, and wiU insist 
 upon getting your noble honour's lordship's cab. 
 
 And to think that there are people who, after having been to 
 Botibol on Wednesday, will go to Clutterbuck on Friday ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 DINIKG-OITT SNOBS. 
 
 In England Dinner-giving Snobs occupy a very important place 
 in society, and the task of describing them is tremendous. There 
 was a time in my life when the consciousness of having eaten a 
 man's salt rendered me dumb regarding his demerits, and I 
 thought it a wicked act and a breach of hospitality to speak ill 
 of him. 
 
 But why should a saddle of mutton blind you, or a turbot and 
 lobster-sauce shut your mouth for ever ? With advancing age, 
 men see their duties more clearly. I am not to be hoodwinked 
 any longer by a slice of venison, be it ever so fat ; and as for 
 being dumb on account of turbot and lobster-sauce — of course I 
 am ; good manners ordain that I should be so, until I have 
 swallowed the compound — but not afterwards ; directly the 
 victuals are discussed, and John takes away the plate, my tongue 
 begins to wag. Does not yours, if you have a pleasant neigli- 
 bour ? — a lovely creature, say, of some five-and-thirty, wliose 
 daughters have not yet quite come out — they are the best talkers. 
 As for your young misses, they are only put about the table 
 to look at — like the flowers in the centre-piece. Their blushing 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 youtli and natural modesty prevents tliem from that easy, confi- 
 dential 'conversational ahanclon whicli forms the delight of the 
 intercourse with their dear mothers. It is to these, if he would 
 prosper in his profession, that the Dining-out Snob should 
 address himself. Suppose you sit next to one of these, how 
 pleasant it is, in the intervals of the banquet, actually to abuse 
 the victuals and the giver of the entertainment ! It's twice as 
 piquant to make fun of a man under his very nose. 
 
 What is a Dinner-giving Snob ? some innocent youth, who is 
 not Tej)andu in the world, may ask — or some simple reader who 
 has not the benefits of London experience. 
 
 My dear sir, I will show you — not all, for that is impossible — 
 but several kinds of Dinner-giving Snobs. Eor instance, suppose 
 you, in the middle rank of life, accustomed to Mutton, roast on 
 Tuesday, cold on "Wednesday, hashed on Thursday, &c., with small 
 means, and a small establishment, choose to waste the former and 
 set the latter topsy-turvy by giving entertainments unnaturally 
 costly — you come into the Dinner-giving Snob class at once. 
 Suppose you get in cheap made dishes from the pastrycook's, and 
 hire a couple of greengrocers, or carpet-beaters, to figure as foot- 
 men, dismissing honest Molly, who waits on common days, and 
 bedizening your table (ordinarily ornamented with wiUow-pattern 
 crockery) with twopenny-halfpenny Birmingham plate. Suppose 
 you pretend to be richer and grander than you ought to be — you 
 are a Dinner-giving Snob. And 0, I tremble to think how many 
 and many a one wHl read this on Thursday ! 
 
 A man who entertains in this way — and, alas, how few do not ! 
 — is like a feUow who would borrow his neighbour's coat to make 
 a show in, or a lady who^ flaunts in the diamonds from next door 
 — a humbug, in a word, and amongst the Snobs he must be set 
 down. 
 
 A man who goes out of his natural sphere of society to ask 
 Lords, Generals, Aldermen, and other persons of fashion, but is 
 niggardly of his hospitality towards his own equals, is a Dinner- 
 giving Snob. My dear friend. Jack Tufthunt, for example, knows 
 one Lord whom he met at a watering-place ; old Lord Mumble, 
 who is as toothless as a three-months-old baby, and as mum as an 
 undertaker, and as dull as — well, we will not particularise.
 
 DINING-OUT SNOBS. 69 
 
 Tufthunt never has a dinner now, but you see this solemn old 
 toothless patrician at the right-hand of Mrs. Tufthunt — Tufthunt 
 is a Dinner-giving Snob. 
 
 Old Livermore, old Soy, old Chuttney, the East India 
 Director, old Cutler, the Surgeon, &c., — that society of old 
 fogies, in fine, who give each other dinners round and round, and 
 dine for the mere purpose of guttling — these, again, are 
 Dinner-giving Snobs. 
 
 Again, my friend Lady MacScrew, who has three grenadier 
 flunkies in lace round the table, and serves up a scrag of mutton 
 on silver, and dribbles you out bad sherry and port by thimblefuls, 
 is a Dinner-giving Snob of the otlier sort ; and I confess, for my 
 part, I would rather dine with old Livermore or old Soy than with 
 her Ladyship. 
 
 Stinginess is snobbish. Ostentation is snobbish. Too great 
 profusion is snobbish. Tuft-hunting is snobbish : but I own there 
 are people more snobbish than all those whose defects are above 
 mentioned : viz., those individuals who can, and don't give dinners 
 at all. The man without hospitality shall never sit suh iisdem 
 irahilus with me. Let the sordid wretch go mumble his bone 
 alone ! 
 
 What, again, is true hospitality ? Alas, my dear friends and 
 brother Snobs ! how little do we meet of it after all ! Are the 
 motives pure which induce your friends to ask you to dinner ? 
 This has often come across me. Does your entertainer want 
 something from you ? For instance, I am not of a suspicious turn ; 
 but it is a f\ict that when Hookey is bringing out a new Avork, he 
 asks the critics all round to dinner ; that when "Walker has got 
 his picture ready for the Exhibition, he somehow grows exceed- 
 ingly hospitable, and has his friends of the press to a quiet outlet 
 and a glass of Sillery. Old Hunks, the miser, who died lately 
 (leaving his money to his housekeeper) lived many years on the 
 fat of the land, by simply taking down, at all his friends', the 
 names and Christian names of all the children. But though you 
 may have your own opinion about the hospitality of your ac- 
 quaintances ; and though men who ask you from sordid motives 
 are most decidedly Dinner-giving Snobs, it is best not to inquire 
 into their motives too keenly. Be not too curious about the"
 
 70 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 moutli of a gift-horse. After all, a man does not intend to insult 
 you hj asking you to dinner. 
 
 Though, for that matter, I know some characters about town 
 who actually consider themselves injured and insulted if the dinner 
 or the company is not to their liking. There is Guttleton, who 
 dines at home off a shilling's worth of beef from the cook's shop, 
 but if he is asked to dine at a house where there are not peas at 
 the end of May, or cucumbers in March along with the turbot, 
 thinks himself insulted by being invited. " Good Ged!" says he, 
 " what the deuce do the Forkers mean by asking me to a family 
 dinner ? I can get mutton at home ; " or " What infernal imper- 
 tinence it is of the Spooners to get entrees from the pastrycook's, 
 and fancy that / am to be deceived with their stories about their 
 French cook ! " Then, again, there is Jack Puddington — I saw 
 that honest fellow t'other day quite in a rage, because, as chance 
 would have it. Sir John Carver asked him to meet the very same 
 party he had met at Colonel Cramley's the day before, and he had 
 not got up a new set of stories to entertain them. Poor Dinner- 
 giving Snobs ! you don't know what small thanks you get for all 
 your pains and money ! How we Dining-out Snobs sneer at your 
 cookery, and pooh-pooh your old Hock, and are incredulous about 
 your four-and-sixpenuy Champagne ; and know that the side- 
 dishes of to-day are recliaufftes from the dinner of yesterday, and 
 mark how certain dishes are whisked off the table untasted,"so that 
 they may figure at the banquet to-morrow. "Whenever, for my 
 part, I see the head man particularly anxious to escamoter a 
 fricandeau or a blanc-mange, I always call out, and insist upon 
 massacreing it with a spoon. All this sort of conduct makes one 
 popular with the Dinner-giviug Snob. One friend of mine, I 
 know, has made a prodigious sensation in good society, by 
 announcing apropos of certain dishes when offered to him, that he 
 never eats aspic except at Lord Tittup's, and that Lady Jiminy's 
 Chef is the only man in London who knows how to doce^%-—Jilet en 
 serpenteau — or Supreme de Volaille aux tniffes.
 
 DINNER-GIVING SNOBS FURTHER CONSIDERED. 71 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 DIIS'NEE-GIVIITG SNOBS I-URTHEE COKSIDEEED. 
 
 If my friends would but follow the present prevailing fashion, 
 I think they ought to give nie a testimonial for the paper on 
 Dinner-giving Snobs, which I am now writing. What do you say 
 now to a handsome comfortable dinner-service of plate {not in- 
 cluding plates, for I hold silver plates to be sheer wantonness, and 
 would almost as soon think of sUver tea-cups), a couple of neat 
 tea-pots, a coffee-pot, trays, &c., with a little inscription to my 
 wife, Mrs. Snob ; and a half-scoi*e of silver tankards for the little 
 Snoblings, to glitter on the homely table where they partake of 
 their quotidian mutton ? 
 
 If I had my way, and my plans could be carried out, dinner- 
 giving would increase as much on the one hand as dinner-giving 
 Snobbishness would diminish : — to my mind the most amiable part 
 of the work lately published by my esteemed friend (if upon a very 
 brief acquaintance he will allow me to call him so), Alexis Soyer, 
 the Eegenei-ator ; what he (in his noble style) would call the most 
 succulent, savory, and elegant passages ; are those which relate, 
 not to the grand banquets and ceremonial dinners, but to " his 
 dinners at home." 
 
 The " dinner at home " ought to be the centre of the whole 
 system of dinner-giving. Your usual style of meal that is 
 plenteous, comfortable, and in its perfection, should be that to 
 which you welcome your friends, as it is that of which you partake 
 yourself. 
 
 Por, towards what woman in the world do I entertain a higher 
 regard than towards the beloved partner of my existence, Mrs. 
 Snob ? who should have a greater place in my affections than her 
 six brothers (three or four of whom we are pretty sure will favour us 
 with their company at seven o'clock), or her angelic mother, my 
 own valued mother-in-law ? — for wOiom, finally would I wish to 
 cater more generously than for your very humble servant, the 
 present writer? Now, nobody supposes that the Birmingham 
 plate is had out, the disguised carpet-beaters introduced to the
 
 72 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 exclusion of the neat pai-lour-maid, the miserable entrees from the 
 pastrycook's ordered in, and the children packed off (as it is sup- 
 posed) to the nursery, but really only to the staircase, down which 
 they slide during the dinner-time, waylaying the dishes as they come 
 out, and fingeriug the round bumps on the jellies, and the forced- 
 meat balls in the soup. iS'obody, I say, supposes that a dinner at 
 home is characterised by the horrible ceremony, the foolish make- 
 sliifts, the mean pomp and ostentation which distinguish our 
 banquets on grand field-days. 
 
 Such a notion is monstrous. I would as soon think of having 
 my dearest Bessy sitting opposite me in a turban and bird of 
 Paradise, and showing her jolly mottled arms out of blond sleeves 
 in her famous red satin gown : aye, or of having Mr. Toole every 
 day, in a white waistcoat, at my back, shouting, " Silence yawj the 
 chair ! " 
 
 Now, if this be the case ; if the Brummagem-plate pomp and the 
 processions of disguised footmen are odious and foolish in every- 
 day life, why not always ? AVhy should Jones and I, who are in 
 the middle rank, alter the modes of our being to assume an eclat 
 which does not belong to us — to entertain our friends, who (if we 
 are worth anything, and honest fellows at bottom) are men of the 
 middle rank too, who are not in the least deceived by our tem- 
 porary splendour ; and who play off exactly the same absurd trick 
 upon U3 when they ask us to dine ? 
 
 If it be pleasant to dine with your friends, as all persons with 
 good stomachs and kindly hearts will, I presume, allow it to be, 
 it is better to dine twice than to dine once. It is impossible 
 for men of small means to be continually spending five-and- 
 twenty or thirty shillings on each friend who sits down to 
 their table. People dine for less. I myself have seen, at 
 my favouiite Club (the Senior United Service), His Grace the 
 Dake of "Wellington quite contented with the joint, one-and- 
 three, and half-pint of Sherry wine nine ; and if his Grace, why 
 not you and I ? 
 
 This rule I have made, and found the benefit of. Whenever I 
 ask a couple of Dukes and a Marquis or so to dine with me, I 
 set them down to a piece of beef, or a leg of mutton and trimmings. 
 The grandees thank you for this simplicity, and appreciate the
 
 r)L\.\ER-GIVING SNOBS FURTHER CONSIDERED. 73 
 
 same. My dear Jones, ask any of those whom you have tlie 
 honour of knowing, if such be not the case. 
 
 lam far from wishing that theu' Graces should treat me in a similar 
 fashion. Splendour is a part of their station, as decent comfort 
 (let us trust), of yours and mine. Fate has comfortably appointed 
 gold plate for some, and has bidden others contentedly to wear the 
 willow pattern. And being pcrfectedly contented (indeed humbly 
 thankful — for look around, Jones, and see the myriads who are 
 not so fortunate,) to wear honest linen, while magnificos of the 
 world are adorned with cambric and point-lace ; surely we ought 
 to hold as miserable, envious fools, those wretched Beaux Tibbs's of 
 society, who sport a lace dickey, and nothing besides. The poor 
 silly jays, who trail a peacock's feather behind them, and think to 
 simidate the gorgeous bird whose nature it is to strut on palace- 
 terraces, and to flaunt his magnificent fan-tail in the sunshine. 
 
 The jays with peacocks' feathers are the Snobs of this world : 
 and never since the days of ^sop were they more numerous in any 
 land, than they are at present in this free country. 
 
 How does this most ancient apologue apply to the subject in 
 liand — tlie Dinner-giving Snob ? The imitation of the great is 
 universal in this city, from the palaces of Kensingtonia and 
 iJelgravia, even to the remotest corner of Brunswick Square. 
 Peacocks' feathers are stuck in the tails of most families. Scarce 
 one of us domestic birds but imitates the lanky, pavonine strut, 
 and shrill, genteel scream. you misguided Dinner-giving Snobs, 
 think how much pleasure you lose, and how much mischief you do 
 with your absurd grandeurs and hypocrisies ! You stuff each 
 other with unnatural forced-meats, and entertain each other to the 
 ruin of friendship (let alone health) and the destruction of 
 hospitality and good-fellowship — you, who but for the peacock's 
 tail might chatter away as much at your ease, and be so jovial 
 and happy ! 
 
 AVhen a man goes into a great set company of dinner-giving 
 and dinner-receiving Snobs ; if he has a philosopliical turn of 
 iiiiud, he will consider what a huge humbug the whole afl:air is ; 
 the dishes and the drink, and the servants and the plate, and the 
 host and hostess, and the conversation, and the company, — the 
 pliilosopher included.
 
 74 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 The liost is smiling and hob-nobbing, and talking up and down 
 the table ; but a prey to secret terrors and anxieties lest the ■wines 
 he has brought up from the cellar should prove insufficient ; lest a 
 corked bottle should destroy his calculations ; or our friend the 
 carpet-beater, by making some hevue, should disclose his real 
 quality of green-grocer, and show that he is not the family butler. 
 
 The hostess is smiling resolutely through all the courses, 
 smiling through her agony ; though her heart is in the kitchen, 
 and she is speculating with terror lest there be any disaster there. 
 If the souffle should collapse, or if Wiggins does not send the ices 
 in time — she feels as if she would commit suicide — that smiling, 
 joUy woman ! 
 
 The children up-stairs are yelling, as their maid is crimping 
 their miserable ringlets with hot tongs, tearing Miss Emmy's hair 
 out by the roots, or scrubbing Miss Polly's dumpy nose with 
 mottled soap tiU the little wretch screams herself into fits. The 
 young males of the family are employed, as we have stated, in 
 piratical exploits upon the landing-place. 
 
 The servants are not servants, but the before-mentioned retail 
 tradesmen. 
 
 The plate is not silver, but a mere shiny Birmingham lacquer ; 
 and so is the hospitality, and everything else. 
 
 The talk is Birmingham talk. The wag of the party, with 
 bitterness in his heart, having just quitted his laundress, who is 
 dunning him for her bill, is firing off good stores ; and the 
 opposition wag is furious that he cannot get an innings. Jawkins, 
 the great conversationist, is scornful and indignant with the pair of 
 them, because he is kept out of court. Toung Muscadel, that 
 cheap dandy, is talking Fashion and Almack's out of the Morning 
 Fost, and disgusting his neighbour, 3Irs. Fox, who reflects that 
 she has never been there. The widow is vexed out of patience, 
 because her daughter Maria has got a place beside young 
 Cambric, the penniless curate, and not by Colonel Goldmore, 
 the rich widower from India. The doctor's wife is sulky, because 
 she has not been led out before the barrister's lady ; old Doctor 
 Cork is grumbling at the wine, and Guttleton sneering at the 
 cookery. 
 
 And to think that all these people might be so happy, and easy,
 
 SOME CONTINENTAL SNOBS. 75 
 
 and friendly, were they brought together in a natural unpretentious 
 way, and but for an unhappy passion for peacocks' feathers in 
 England. Gentle shades of Marat and Eobespierre ! -when I see 
 how all the honesty of society is corrupted among us by the 
 miserable fashion-worship, I feel as angry as Mrs. Fox just 
 mentioned, and ready to order a general hattue of peacocks. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 SOME CONTINENTAL SNOES. 
 
 Now that September has come, and all our parliamentary duties 
 are over, perhaps no class of Snobs are in such high feather as the 
 Continental Snobs. I watch these daily as they commence their 
 migrations from the beach at Pollcestone. I see shoals of them 
 depart (not perhaps without an innate longing too to quit the 
 island along with those happy Snobs). Farewell, dear friends, I 
 say, you little know that the individual who regards you from the 
 beach is your friend and historiographer and brother. 
 
 I went to-day to see our excellent friend Snooks, on board the 
 Queen of the French ; many scores of Snobs were there, on the deck 
 of that fine ship, marching forth in their pride and bravery. 
 They will be at Ostend in four hours ; tliey will inundate the 
 Continent next week ; they will carry into far lands the famous 
 image of the British Snob. I shall not see them — but am with 
 them in spirit ; and indeed there is hardly a country in the known 
 and civilised world in which these eyes have not beheld them. 
 
 I have seen Snobs, in pink coats and hunting boots, scouring 
 over the Campagna of Rome : and have heard tlieir oaths and their 
 well-known slang in the galleries of the Vatican, and under the 
 shadowy arches of the Colosseum. I have met a Snob on a 
 dromedary in the desert, and picknicking under the pyramid of 
 Cheops. I like to think how many gallant British Snobs there 
 are, at this minute of writing, pushing their heads out of every 
 window in the court-yard of Meurice's in the Hue de E,ivoli ; or 
 roaring out " Garsoug, du pang," " Garson, du vaug;" or 
 swaggering down the Toledo at Naples ; or even how many will
 
 76 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 be on tlie look-out for Snooks on Ostend pier, — for Snooks, and 
 the rest of the Snobs on board the Queen of the French. 
 
 Look at the Marquis of Carabas and his two carriages. My 
 lady Marchioness comes on board, looks round with that happy air 
 of mingled terror and impertinence which distinguishes her lad}'- 
 ship, and rushes to her carriage, for it is impossible that she should 
 mingle with the other Snobs on deck. There she sits, and will be 
 ill in private. The strawberry-leaves on her chariot-panels are 
 engraved on her ladyship's heart. If she were going to heaven 
 instead of to Ostend, I rather think she would expect to ha\'e 
 des places reservees for her, and would send to order the best 
 rooms. A courier, with his money-bag of office round his 
 shoulders — a huge scowling footman, whose dark pepper-and-salt 
 livery glistens with the heraldic insignia of the Carabases — a 
 brazen-lookuig, tawdry French femme-de-cliamhre (none but a 
 female pen can do justice to that wonderful tawdry toilette of the 
 lady's maid en voyage) — and a miserable dame de compagnie, are 
 ministering to the wants of her ladyship and her King Charles's 
 spaniel. They are rushing to and fro with Eau-de-Cologne, pocket- 
 handkerchiefs which are all fringe and cypher, and popping mys- 
 terious cushions behind and before, and in every available corner 
 of the carriage. 
 
 The little Marquis, her husband, is walking about the deck in a 
 bewildered manner, with a lean daughter on each arm : the 
 carroty-tufted hope of the family is already smoking on the fore- 
 deck in a travelling costume checked all over, and in little lacker- 
 tipped jean boots, and a shirt embroidered with pink boa-con- 
 strictors. "What is it that gives travelling Snobs such a marvellous 
 propensity to rush into a costume ? Why should a man iiot travel 
 in a coat, &c. ? but think proper to dress liimself like a harlequin 
 in mourning ? See, even young Aldermanbury, the tallow- 
 merchant, who has just stepped on board, has got a travelling 
 dress gaping all over with pockets ; and little Tom Tapeworm, the 
 lawyer's clerk out of the City, who has but three weeks' leave, turns 
 out in gaiters and a bran new shooting-jacket, and must let the 
 niustachios grow on his little snuffy upper lip, forsooth ! 
 
 Pompey Hicks is giving elaborate directions to his servant, and 
 asking loudly, "Davis, where's the dwessing-case," and "Davi.«,
 
 SOME CONTINENTAL SNOBS. 77 
 
 you'd best take the pistol-ease into the cabin." Little Pompey 
 travels with a dressing-case, and without a beard ; whom he is 
 going to shoot with his pistols, who on earth can tell ? and what 
 he is to do with his servant but wait upon him, I am at a loss to 
 conjecture. 
 
 Look at honest Nathan Houndsditch and his lady, and their 
 little son. "Wliat a noble air of blazing contentment illuminates 
 the features of those Snobs of Eastern race ! What a toilette 
 Houndsditch's is ! "What rings and chains, what gold-headed canes 
 and diamonds, what a tuft the rogue has got to his chin (the 
 rogue ! he will never spare himself any cheap enjoyment !) Little 
 Houndsditch has a little cane with a gilt head and little mosaic 
 ornaments — altogether an extra air. As for the lady, she is all 
 the colours of the rainbow : she has a pink parasol, with a white 
 lining, and a yellow bonnet, and an emerald green shawl, and a 
 shot silk pelisse ; and drab boots and rhubarb-coloured gloves ; 
 and party-coloured glass buttons, expanding from tlie size of a 
 fourpenny piece to a crown, glitter and twiddle all down the front 
 of her gorgeous costume. I have said before, I like to look at 
 "the Peoples " on their gala days, they are so picturesquely and 
 outrageously splendid and happy. 
 
 Yonder comes Captain Bull ; spick and span, tight and trim, 
 who travels for four or six months every year of his life, who 
 does not commit himself by luxmy of raiment or insolence of 
 demeanour, but I think is as great a Snob as any man on board. 
 Bull passes the season in London, sponging for dinners, and 
 sleeping in a garret near his Club, Abroad, he has been every- 
 where ; he knows the best wine at every iuu in every capital in 
 Europe ; lives with the best English company there ; has seeu 
 every palace and picture-gallery from Madrid to Stockholm ; 
 speaks an abominable little jargon of half-a-dozen languages — and 
 knows nothing — nothing. Bull hunts tufts on the Continent, 
 and is a sort of amateur courier. He will scrape acquaintance 
 with old Carabas before they make Ostend ; and will remind his 
 lordship that lie met him at Vienna twenty years ago, or gave 
 him a glass of Schuaps up the Eighi. "We have said Bull knows 
 nothing : he knows the birth, arms and pedigree of all the peerage, 
 has poked his little eyes into every one of the carriages on board
 
 78 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 — their panels noted and their crests surveyed ; he knows all 
 the continental stories of English scandal — how Count Towrowski 
 run off with Miss Baggs at Naples — how very thick Lady Smig- 
 smag was with young Cornichon of the French legation at 
 Elorence — the exact amount which Jack Duceace won of Bob 
 Greengoose at Baden — what it is that made the Staggs settle on 
 the Continent : the sum for which the O'Gosrgarty estates are 
 mortgaged, &c. If he can't catch a lord he will hook on to a 
 baronet, or else the old wretch will catch hold of some beardless 
 young stripling of fashion, and show him "life " in various and 
 amiable and inaccessible quarters. Faugh ! the old brute ! If he 
 has every one of the vices of the most boisterous youth ; at least 
 he is comforted by having no conscience. He is utterly stupid, 
 but of a jovial turn. He believes himself to be quite a respect- 
 able member of society : but perhaps the only good action he ever 
 did in his life is the involuntary one of giving an example to be 
 avoided, and showing what an odious thing in the social 
 picture is that figure of the debauched old man who passes 
 through life rather a decorous Silenus, and dies some day 
 in his garret, alone, unrepenting, and luinoted, save by his 
 astonished heirs, who find that the dissolute old miser has left 
 money behind him. See ! he is up to old Carabas already ! I 
 told you he would. 
 
 Tender yovi see the old Lady Mary Macscrew, and those middle- 
 aged young women, her daughters ; they are going to cheapen 
 and haggle in Belgium and up the Ehine until tliey meet with a 
 boarding-house where they can live upon less board-wages than 
 her ladyship pays her footmen. But she will exact and receive 
 considerable respect from the British Snobs located in the water- 
 ing-place which she selects for her summer residence, being the 
 daughter of the Earl of Haggistoun. That broad-shouldered buck, 
 ■with the great whiskers and the cleaned white kid gloves, is Mr. 
 Phelim Clancy of Poldoodystown : he calls himself Mr. De Clancy ; 
 he endeavours to disguise his native brogue with the richest super- 
 position of English ; and if you play at billiards or ecarte with 
 him, the chances are that you will win the first game, and he the 
 seven or eight games ensuing. 
 
 That overgrown lady with the four daughters, and the young
 
 CONTINENTAL SNOBBERY CONTINUED. 79 
 
 dandy from the University, her sou, is Mrs. Ivewsy, the eminent 
 barrister's lady, who would rather die than not be in the fashion. 
 She has the Peerage in her carpet-bag, you may be sure ; but she 
 is altogether cut out by Mrs. Quod, the attorney's wife, whose 
 carriage, with the apparatus of ruiaibles, dickeys, and imperials, 
 scarcely yields in splendour to the Marquis of Carabas's own 
 travelling chariot, and whose courier has even bigger whiskers 
 and a larger morocco money-bag than the Marquis's own travelling 
 gentleman. Eemark her well : she is talking to Mr. Spout, the 
 new member for Jawborough, who is going out to inspect the 
 operations of the Zollverein, and will put some very severe 
 questions to Lord Palmerston next session upon England and her 
 relations with the Prussian-blue ti-ade, the Naples-soap trade, the 
 German-tinder trade, &c. Spout will patronise Eing Leopold at 
 Brussels ; will write letters from abroad to the Jaicloroiigh 
 Independent ; and, in his quality of jMemher du Parliamong 
 Britaniqtie, will expect to be invited to a family dinner with 
 every sovereign whose dominions he honours with a visit dnring 
 his tour. 
 
 The next person is but hark ! the bell for shore is ringing, 
 
 and, shaking Snooks's hand cordially, we rush on tlie pier, waving 
 him a farewell as the noble black ship cuts keenly through the 
 sunny azure waters, bearing away that cargo of Snobs outward 
 bound. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 COiS-TINENTAL SNOBBERY CONTINUED. 
 
 We are accustomed to laugh at the French for their braggadocio 
 propensities, and intolerable vanity about la Prance, la gloire, 
 I'Empcreur, and the like ; and yet I think in my heart that the 
 British Snob, for conceit and self-sufficiency and braggartism in 
 bis way, is without a parallel. There is always somethiug uneasy 
 in a Frenchman's conceit. He brags with so much fury, shriekino^, 
 and gesticulation ; yells out so loudly that tlic Prancais is at the 
 head of civilisation, the centre of thought, &c. ; that one can't but
 
 80 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 see the poor fellow has a lurking doubt in his own mind that he 
 is not the wonder he professes to be. 
 
 About the British Snob, on the contrary, there is commonly no 
 noise, no bluster, but the calmness of profound conviction. We 
 are better than all the world ; we don't question the opinion at 
 all ; it's an axiom. And when a Frenchman bellows out, " La 
 France, Monsieur, la Freoiee est ci la tefe clu monde civilise ! " we 
 laugh good-naturedly at the frantic poor devil. We are the first 
 chop of the world : we know tlie fact so well in our secret hearts, 
 that a claim set up elsewhere is simply ludicrous. My dear 
 brother reader, say, as a man of honom*, if you are not of this 
 opinion ? Do you think a Frenchman your equal ? Tou don't — 
 you gallant British Snob — you know you don't : no more, perhaps, 
 does the Snob your humble Servant, brother. 
 
 And I am inclined to think it is this conviction, and the conse- 
 quent bearing of the Englishman towards the foreigner whom he 
 condescends to visit, this confidence of superiority which holds up 
 the head of the owner of every English hat-box from Sicily to St. 
 Petersburgh, that makes us so magnificently hated throughout 
 Europe as we are ; this — more than all our little victories, and of 
 which many Frenchmen and Spaniards have never heard — this 
 amazing and indomitable insular pride, which animates my lord 
 iu his travelling-carriage as well as John in the rumble. 
 
 If you read the old Chronicles of the French wars, you find 
 precisely the same character of the Englishman, and Henry Y.'s 
 people with just the cool domineering manner of our gallant 
 veterans of France and the Peninsula. Did you never hear 
 Colonel Cutler and Major Slasher talking over the war after 
 dinner ? or Captain Boarder describing his action with the 
 Indomptable ? " Hang the fellows," says Boarder, " their practice 
 was very good. I was beat ofi" three times before I took her." 
 " Cuss those carabineers of Milhaud's," says Slasher, " what work 
 they made of our light cavalry ! " implying a sort of surprise that 
 the Frenchmen should stand up against Britons at all ; a good- 
 natured wonder that the blind, mad, vain-glorious, brave, poor 
 devils, should actually have the courage to resist an Englishman. 
 Legions of such Englishmen are patronising Europe at this 
 moment, being kind to the Pope, or good-natured to the King of
 
 CONTINENTAL SNOBBERY. SI 
 
 Holland, or condescending to inspect the Prussian reviews. AVhen 
 Nicholas came here, who reviews a quarter of a million of pairs of 
 moustachios to his breakfast every morning, we took him off to 
 "Windsor and showed him two whole regiments of six or eight 
 hundred Britons a-piece, with an air as much as to say, — " There, 
 my boy, look at tliat. Those are Enr/lishnen, those are, and your 
 master whenever you please," as the nursery song says. The 
 British Snob is long, long past scepticism, and can afford to laugh 
 quite good-humouredly at those conceited Yankees, or besotted 
 little Frenchmen, who set up as models of mankind. They 
 forsooth ! 
 
 I have been led into these remarks by listening to an old 
 fellow at the Hotel du Nord, at Boulogne, and who is evidently of 
 the Slasher sort. He came down and. seated himself at the 
 breakfast-table, with a surly scowl on his salmon-coloured blood- 
 shot face, strangling in a tight, cross-barred cravat ; his linen and 
 his appointments so perfectly stiff and spotless that everybody at 
 once recognised him as a dear countryman. Only our port-wine 
 and other admirable institutions could have produced a figure so 
 insolent, so stupid, so gentlemanlike. After a while our attention 
 was called to him by his roaring out, in a voice of plethoric 
 fury, " ! " 
 
 Everybody turned round at the O, conceiving the Colonel to be 
 as his countenance denoted him, in intense pain ; but the waiters 
 knew better, and instead of being alarmed, brought the Colonel 
 the kettle. O, it appears, is the French for hot-water. The 
 Colonel (though he despises it heartily) thinks he speaks the 
 language remarkably well. AVhilst he was inhausting his smoking 
 tea, which went rolling and gurgling down his throat, and hissing 
 over the " hot coppers " of that respectable veteran, a friend 
 joined him, with a wizened fiice and very black wig, evidently a 
 Colonel too. 
 
 The two warriors, waggling their old heads at each other, pre- 
 sently joined breakfast, and fell into conversation, and we had the 
 advantage of hearing about the old war, and some pleasant con- 
 jectures as to the next, which they considered imminent. They 
 psha'd the French fleet ; they pooh-pooh' d the French Commercial 
 Marine ; they showed how, in a war, there would be a cordc-n (a
 
 82 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 cordong, by — ) of steamers along our coast, and by — , ready at a 
 minute to land anywhere on the otlier sliore, to give the French 
 
 as good a thrashing as they got in the last war, by . In fact, 
 
 a rumbling cannonade of oaths was fired by the two veterans 
 during the whole of their conversation. 
 
 There was a Frenchman in the room, but as he had not been 
 above ten years in London, of course he did not speak the 
 language, and lost the benefit of the conversation. " But oh, my 
 country!" says I to myself, "it's no wonder that you are so 
 beloved! If I were a Frenchman, how I would hate you ! " 
 
 That brutal ignorant peevish bully of an Englishman is showing 
 himself in every city of Europe. One of the dullest creatures 
 imder Heaven, he goes trampling Europe under foot, shouldering 
 his way into galleries and cathedrals, and bustling into palaces 
 with his buckram uniform. At church or theatre, gala or picture 
 gallery, Ms face never varies. A thousand delightful sights pass 
 before his blood-shot eyes, and don't affect him. Countless 
 brilliant scenes of life and manners are shown him, but never 
 move him. He goes to church, and calls the practices there 
 degrading and superstitious, as if his altar was the only one 
 that was acceptable. He goes to picture-galleries, and is more 
 ignorant about Art than a French shoe-black. Art, Nature pass, 
 and there is no dot of admiration in his stupid eyes ; nothing 
 moves him, except when a very great man comes his way, and 
 then the rigid proud self-confident inflexible British Snob can be 
 as humble as a flunky and as supple as a harlequin. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 ENGLISH SNOBS ON THE CONTINENT. 
 
 " What is the use of Lord Eosse's telescope ? " my friend 
 Panwiski exclaimed the other day. " It only enables you to see a 
 few hundred tliousands of miles farther. What were thought to 
 be mere nebulse, turn out to be most perceivable starry systems ; 
 and beyond these, you see other nebula?, which a more powerful 
 glass will show to be stars, again ; and so they go on glittering
 
 ENGLISH SNOBS ON THE CONTINENT. 83 
 
 and winking away into eternity." "With whicli my friend Pan, 
 heaving a great sigh, as if confessing his inability to look Infinity 
 in the face, sank back resigned, and swallowed a large bumper of 
 Claret. 
 
 I (who, like other great men, have but one idea), thought to 
 myself, that as the stars are, so are the Snobs : — the more you 
 gaze upon those luminaries, the more you behold — now nebulously 
 congregated— now faintly distinguishable — now brightly defined — 
 until they twinkle off in endless blazes, and fade into the immea- 
 surable darkness. I am but as a child playing on the sea-shore. 
 Some telescopic philosopher will arise one day, some great Snob- 
 onomer, to find the laws of the great science which we are now 
 merely playing with, and to define, and settle, and classify that 
 which is at present but vague theory, and loose, though elegant 
 assertion. 
 
 Tes : a single eye can but trace a very few and simple varieties 
 of the enormous universe of Snobs. I sometimes think of 
 appealing to the public, and calling together a congress of snvans, 
 such as met at Southampton — each to bring his contributions 
 and read his paper on the Great Subject. For what can a single 
 poor few do, even with the subject at present in hand ? English 
 Snobs on the Continent — though they are a hundred thousand 
 times less numerous than on their native island, yet even these 
 few are too many. One can only fix a stray one here and there. 
 The individuals are caught — the thousands escape. I have noted 
 down but three whom I have met with in my walk this moi*ning 
 through this pleasant marine city of Boulogne. 
 
 There is the English Eaff Snob, that frequents estaminets and 
 cabarets ; who is heard yelling, " We won't go home till morning ! " 
 and startling the midnight echoes of quiet continental towns with 
 shrieks of English slang. The boozy unshorn wretch is seen 
 hovering round quays as packets arrive, and tippling drams in inn 
 bars where he gets credit. He talks Erench with slang famili- 
 arity : he and his like qmte people the debt-prisons on the 
 Continent, lie plays pool at the billiard-houses, and may be seen 
 engaged at cards and dominoes of forenoons. His signature is to 
 be seen on countless bills of exchange : it belonged to an honour- 
 able family once, very likely ; for the English Eaff most probably 
 
 a 2
 
 84 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 began by being a gentleman, and lias a father over tbe water who 
 is ashamed to hear his name. He has cheated the old " governor " 
 repeatedly in better days, and swindled his sisters of their por- 
 tions, and robbed his younger brothers. IS^ow he is living on his 
 wife's jointure : she is hidden away in some dismal garret, patching 
 shabby finery and cobbling up old clothes for her children — the 
 most miserable and slatternly of women. 
 
 Or sometimes the poor woman and her daughters go about 
 timidly, giving lessons in English and music, or do embroidery and 
 work under-hand, to purchase the means for i\\e pot-au-feu ; while 
 EafF is swaggering on the quay, or tossing off glasses of Cognac 
 at the Cafe. The unfortunate creature has a child still every 
 year, and her constant hypocrisy is to try and make her girls 
 believe that their father is a respectable man, and to huddle him 
 out of the way, when the brute comes home drunk. 
 
 Those poor ruined souls get together and have a society of 
 their own, the which it is very affecting to watch — those tawdry pre- 
 tences at gentility, those flimsy attempts at gaiety : those woful 
 sallies : that jingling old piano ; O, it makes the heart sick to see 
 and hear them. As Mrs. Eaff, with her company of pale 
 daughters, gives a penny tea to Mrs. Diddler, and they talk about 
 bygone times and the fine society they kept ; and they sing feeble 
 songs out of tattered old music-books, and while engaged in this 
 sort of entertainment, in comes Captain Eaff with his greasy hat 
 on one side, and straightway the whole of the dismal room reeks 
 with a mingled odour of smoke and spirits. 
 
 Has not everybody who has lived abroad met Captain Eaff" ? 
 His name is proclaimed, every now and then, by IMr. Sheriff's 
 Officer Hemp ; and about Boulogne, and Paris, and Brussels, 
 there are so many of his sort that I will lay a wager that I shall 
 be accused of gross personality for showing him up. Many a less 
 irreclaimable villain is transported ; many a more honourable man 
 is at present at the treadmill ; and although we are the noblest, 
 greatest, most religious, and most moral people in the world, I 
 would still like to know where, except in the United Kingdom, 
 debts are a matter of joke, and making tradesmen " suffer " a sport 
 that gentlemen own to ? It is dishonourable to owe money in 
 France. You never heard people in other parts of Europe brag of
 
 EXGLISn SNOBS ON JHE CONTLNEXT. ;85 
 
 their swindling ; or see a prison in a large continental town wliicli 
 is not more or less peopled witli English rogues. 
 
 A still more loathsome and dangerous Snob than the above 
 transparent and passive scamp, is frequent on the continent of 
 Europe, and my young Snob friends who are travelling thither 
 should be especially warned against him. Captain Legg is a 
 gentleman, like 'Raff, though perhaps of a better degree. He has 
 robbed his family too, but of a great deal more, and has boldly 
 dishonoured bills for thousands, where Kaff has been boorgflinfr 
 over the clumsy conveyance of a ten-pound note. Legg is always 
 at the best inn, with the finest waistcoats and moustachios, or 
 tearing about in the flashest of britzkas, while poor Eaff is 
 tipsifying himself with spirits, and smoking cheap tobacco. It is 
 amazing to think that Legg, so often shown up, and known every- 
 where, is flourishing yet. He would sink into utter ruin, but 
 for the constant and ardent love of gentility that distinguishes 
 the English Snob. There is many a young fellow of the middle 
 classes who must know Legg to be a rogue and a cheat ; and yet 
 from his desire to be in the fashion, and his admiration of tip-top 
 swells, and from his ambition to air himself by the side of a 
 Lord's son, will let Legg make an income out of him ; content to 
 pay, so long as he can enjoy that society. Many a worthy father 
 of a family, when he hears that his son is riding about with 
 Captain Legg, Lord Levant's son, is rather pleased that young 
 Hopeful should be in such good company. 
 
 Legg and his friend. Major Macer, make professional tours 
 through Europe, and are to be found at the riglit places at the 
 right time. Last year I heard how my young acquaintance, 
 Mr. Muff", from Oxford, going to see a little life at a Carnival ball 
 at Paris, was accosted by an Englishman who did not know a 
 
 word of the d language, and hearing Muff speak it so 
 
 admirably, begged him to interpret to a waiter with whom there 
 was a dispute about refreshments. It was quite a comfort, the 
 stranger said, to see an honest English face ; and did Muff know 
 where there was a good place for supper ? So those two went to 
 supper, and who should come in, of all men in the world, but 
 Major Macer? And so Legg introduced Macer, and so there 
 came on a little intimacy, and three-card loo, &c., &c. Year after
 
 86 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 year scores of Muffs, iu various places in tbe world, are victimised 
 by Legg and Macer. The story is so stale, the trick of seduction 
 so entirely old and clumsy, that it is only a vronder people can be 
 taken in any more : but the temptations of vice and gentility 
 together are too much for young English Snobs, and those simple 
 young victims are caught fresh every day. Though it is only to 
 be kicked and cheated by men of fashion, your true British Snob 
 will present himself for the honour. 
 
 I need not allude here to that very common British Snob, who 
 makes desperate efforts at becoming intimate with the great 
 continental aristocracy, such as old Eolls, the baker, who has set 
 up his quarters in the Faubourg Saint Germain, and will receive 
 none but Carlists, and no French gentleman under the rank of a 
 Marquis. "We can all of us laugh at tliat fellow's pretensions 
 well enough — we who tremble before a great man of our own 
 nation. But, as you say, my brave and honest John Bull of a 
 Snob, a French Marquis of twenty descents is very different from 
 an English Peer ; and a pack of beggarly German and Italian 
 Fuersten and Principi awaken the scorn of an honest-minded 
 Briton. But our aristocracy — that's a very different matter. 
 They are the real leaders of the world — the real old original and- 
 no-mistake nobility. Off with your cap, Snob ; down on your 
 knees, Snob, and truckle. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 
 
 TiEED of the town, where the sight of the closed shutters of 
 the nobility, my friends, makes my heart sick in my walks ; afraid 
 almost to sit in those vast Pall Mall solitudes, the Clubs, and of 
 annoying the Club waiters, who might, I thought, be going to 
 shoot in the country, but for me, I determined on a brief tour in 
 the provinces, and paying some visits in the country which were 
 long due. 
 
 My first visit was to my friend Major Ponto (H.P. of the 
 Horse Marines,) in Mangelwurzelshire. The Major in his little
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS, 87 
 
 phaeton, was in waiting to take me up at the station. The vehicle 
 was not certainly splendid, but such a carriage as would accom- 
 modate a plain man (as Ponto said he was) and a numerous 
 family. We drove by beautiful fresh fields and green hedges, 
 through a cheerful English landscape ; the high road, as smooth 
 and trim as the way in a nobleman's park, was charmingly 
 checkered with cool shade and golden sunshine. Eustics in snowy 
 smock-frocks, jerked their hats off smiling as we passed. Children, 
 with cheeks as red as the apples in the orchards, bobbed curtsies 
 to us at the cottage-doors. Blue chui'ch spires rose here and 
 there in the distance : and as the buxom gardener's wife opened 
 the white gate at the Major's little ivy-covered lodge, and we 
 drove through the neat plantations of firs and evergreens, up to 
 the house, my bosom felt a joy and elation which I thought it 
 was impossible to experience in the smoky atmosphere cf a town. 
 " Here," I mentally exclaimed, " is all peace, plenty, happiness. 
 Here, I shall be rid of Snobs. There can be none in this 
 charming Arcadian spot." 
 
 Stripes, the Major's man (formerly corporal in his gallant corps), 
 received my portmanteau, and an elegant little present, which 
 I had brought from town as a peace-ofiering to Mrs. Ponto; 
 viz., a cod and oysters from Grove's, in a hamper about the 
 size of a cofl&n. 
 
 Ponto's house (" The Evergreens " Mrs. P. has christened it) 
 is a perfect Paradise of a place. It is all over creepers, and bow- 
 windows, and verandahs. A wavy lawn tumbles up and down all 
 round it, with flower-beds of wonderful shapes, and zigzag gravel 
 walks, and beautiful but damp shrubberies of myrtles and 
 glistening laurustinums, which have procured it its change of 
 name. It was called Little Bullock's Pound in old Doctor 
 Ponto's time. I had a view of the pretty grounds, and the stable, 
 and the adjoining village and church, and a great park beyond, 
 from the windows of the bed-room whither Ponto conducted me. 
 It was the yellow bed-room, the freshest and pleasantest of bed- 
 chambers ; the air was fragrant with a large bouquet that was 
 placed on the writing table ; the linen was fragrant with the 
 lavender in wliich it had been laid : the chintz hangings of the 
 bed and the big sofa were, if not fragrant with flowers, at least
 
 88 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 painted all over with them ; tlie peu-wiper ou the table was the 
 imitation of a doable dahlia; and there was accommodation for 
 my watch in a sun-flower on the mantelpiece. A scarlet-leafed 
 creeper came curling over the windows, through which the setting 
 sun was pouring a flood of golden light. It was all flowers and 
 freshness. O, how unlike those black chimney-pots in St, Alban's 
 Place, London, on which these weary eyes are accustomed to look. 
 
 "It must be all happiness here, Ponto," said I, flinging myself 
 down into the snug hercjere, and inhaling such a delicious draught 
 of country air as all the millefleurs of Mr. Atkinson's shop cannot 
 impart to any the most expensive pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Nice place, isn't it ? " said Ponto. " Quiet and unpretending. 
 I like everything quiet. Tou've not brought your valet with 
 you ? Stripes will arrange your dressing things ; " and that func- 
 tionary, entering at the same time, proceeded to gut my port- 
 manteau, and to lay out the black kerseymeres, " the rich cut 
 velvet Genoa waistcoat," the white choker, and other polite 
 articles of evening costume, with great gravity and dispatch. " A 
 great dinner-party," thinks I to myself, seeing these preparations 
 (and not, perhaps, displeased at the idea that some of the best 
 people in the neighbourhood were coming to see me). "Hark, 
 there's the fii'st bell ringing ! " said Ponto, moving away ; and, in 
 fact, a clamorous harbinger of victuals began clanging from the 
 stable turret, and announced the agreeable fact that dinner would 
 appear in half-an-hour. " If the dinner is as grand as the dinner- 
 bell," thought I, " faith, I'm in good quarters ! " and had leisure, 
 during the half-hour's interval, not only to advance my own 
 person to the utmost polish of elegance which it is capable of 
 receiving, to admire thS pedigree of the Pontos hanging over the 
 chimney, and the Ponto crest and arms emblazoned on the wash- 
 hand basin and jug, but to make a thousand reflections ou the 
 happiness of a country life — upon the innocent friendliness and 
 cordiality of rustic intercourse ; and to sigh for an opportunity of 
 retiring, like Ponto, to my own fields, to my own wine and fig- 
 tree, with a placens uxor in my domus, and a half-score of sweet 
 young pledges of aflection sporting round my paternal knee. 
 
 Clang ! At the end of the thirty minutes, dinner-bell number 
 two pealed from the adjacent turret. I hastened down stair:*.
 
 ox SOME COU:XTrvY SXOB.?. 69 
 
 expecting to find a score of healthy country folks in the drawing- 
 room. There was only one person there ; a tall and Eoman-nosed 
 lady, glistering over with bugles, in deep mourning. She rose, 
 advanced two steps, made a majestic curtsey, during W'hich all 
 the bugles in her awful head-dress began to twiddle and quiver — 
 and then said, " Mr. Snob, we are very happy to see you at the 
 Evergreens," and heaved a great sigh. 
 
 This, then, was Mrs. Major Ponto ; to whom making my very 
 best bow, I replied, that I was very proud to make her acquaintance, 
 as also that of so charming a place as the Evergreens. 
 
 Another sigh. " We are distantly related, Mr. Snob," said she, 
 shaking her melancholy head. " Poor dear Lord E,ubadub ! " 
 
 "O !" says I; not knowing what the deuce Mrs. Major Ponto 
 meant. 
 
 " Major Ponto told me that you were of the Leicestershire 
 Snobs ; a very old family, and related to Lord Snobbington, 
 who married Laura Eubadub, who is a cousin of mine, as was 
 her poor dear father, for whom we are mourning. What a 
 seizure ! only sixty-three, and apoplexy quite unknown until now 
 in our family ! In life we are in death, Mr. Snob. Does Lady 
 Snobbington bear the deprivation well ? 
 
 "Why, really Ma'ftm, I — I don't know," I replied, more and 
 more confused. 
 
 As she was speaking I heard a sort of doo]), by which well^ 
 known sound I was aware that somebody was opening a bottle of 
 wine, and Ponto entered, in a huge white neckcloth, and a 
 rather shabby black suit. 
 
 " My love," Mrs. Major Ponto said to her husband; " we were 
 talking of our cousin — poor dear Lord Eubadub. His death has 
 placed some of the first families in England in mourning. Does 
 Lady Eubadub keep the house in Hill Street, do you know ? " 
 
 I didn't know, but I said, " I believe she does," at a venture ; 
 and, looking down to the drawing-room table, saw the inevitable, 
 abominable, maniacal, absurd, disgusting Peerage, open on the 
 table, interleaved with annotations, and open at the article 
 " Snobbington." 
 
 "Dinner is served," says Stripes, flinging open the door ; and 
 I gave Mi's. Major Ponto my arm.
 
 90 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A A'ISIT TO SOME COUyiEX SXOBS. 
 
 Of the dinner to wliicli ■n'e now sate do^^Ti, I am not going to 
 be a severe critic. The mahogany I hold to be inviolable ; but 
 this I win say, that I prefer Sherry to Marsala when I can get it, 
 and the latter was the wine of which I have no doubt I heard the 
 " cloop " just before dinner. jS^or was it particularly good of its 
 kind : however, Mrs. Major Ponto did not evidently know the 
 diiference, for she called the liquor Amontillado during the whole 
 of the repast, and drank but half a glass of it, leaving the rest for 
 the Major and his guest. 
 
 Stripes was in the livery of the Ponto family — a thought 
 shabby but gorgeous in the extreme — lots of magnificent worsted 
 lace, and livery buttons of a very notable size. The honest 
 fellow's hands, I remarked, were very large and black ; and a fine 
 odour of the stable was wafted about the room as he moved to and 
 fro in his ministration. I should have preferred a clean maid- 
 servant, but the sensations of Londoners are too acute perhaps on 
 these subjects ; and a faithful John, after all, is more genteel. 
 
 Prom the circumstance of the dinner being composed of pig's- 
 head mock-turtle soup, of jiig's fry and roast ribs of pork, I am 
 led to imagine that one of Ponto's black Hampshires had been 
 sacrificed a short time previous to my visit. It was an excellent 
 and comfortable repast ; only there teas rather a sameness in it, 
 certainly. I made a similar remark the next day. 
 
 During the dinner Mrs. Ponto asked me many questions 
 regarding the nobility, my relatives. " When Lady Angelina 
 Skeggs would come out ; and if the Countess, her Mamma, (this 
 was said with much archness and he-he-ing) still wore that 
 extraordinary purple hair dye ?" " "Whether my Lord Guttlebury 
 kept, besides his French chef, and an English cordon-bleu for the 
 roasts, an Italian for the confectionery ?" " Who attended at Lady 
 Clapperclaw's conversazioni?" and "whether Sir John Cham- 
 pignon's ' Thursday Mornings ' were pleasant?" " Was it true 
 that Lady Cai*abas, wanting to pawn her diamonds, found that they
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 91 
 
 were paste, and that the Marquis had disposed of them before- 
 hand ? " " How was it that Snuffin, the great tobacco merchant, 
 broke off the marriage which was on the tapis between him and 
 their second daughter ; and was it true that a mulatto lady came 
 over from the Havanna and forbid the match ?" 
 
 " Upon my word, Madam," I had begun, and was going on to 
 say that I didn't know one word about all these matters which 
 seemed so to interest Mrs. Major Ponto, when the Major, giving 
 me a tread or stamp with his large foot under the table, said — . 
 
 " Come, come. Snob, my boy, we are all tiled, you know. "We 
 Icnoio you're one of the fashionable people about town: we saw your 
 name at Lady Clapperclaw's soirees, and the Champignon break- 
 fasts ; and as for the Kubadubs, of course, as relations — " * * 
 
 " Oh, of course, I dine there twice a-week," I said ; and then 
 I remembered that my cousin, Humphry Snob, of the Middle 
 Temple, is a great frequenter of genteel societies, and to have 
 seen his name in the Mornim/ Post at the tag-end of several party 
 lists. So, taking the hint, I am ashamed to say I indulged IMrs. 
 Major Ponto with a deal of information about the first families 
 in England, such as would astonish those great personages if they 
 knew them. I described to her most acciu-ately the three reigning 
 beauties of last season at Almack's : told her in confidence that 
 
 his Grace the D — ■ of W was going to be married the day 
 
 after his Statue was put up ; that his Grace the D — of D 
 
 was also about to lead the fourth daughter of the Archduke 
 Stephen to the hymeneal altar:— and talked to her, in a word, 
 just in the style of Mrs. Gore's last fashionable novel. 
 
 Mrs. Major was quite fascinated by this brilliant conversation. 
 She began to trot out scraps of French, just for all the world as 
 they do in the novels ; and kissed her hand to me quite graciously, 
 telling me to come soon to caffy, «Hy pic de Musick o salong — witli 
 which she tripped ofl'like an elderly fairy. 
 
 " Shall I open a bottle of Port, or do you ever drink such a 
 thing as Hollands and water?" says Ponto, looking ruefully at 
 me. This was a very different style of thing to Avhat I had been 
 led to expect from him at oiu? smoking-room at the club : where 
 he swaggers about his horses and his cellar : and slapping me on 
 the shoulder used to say, " Come down to Mangelwui'zelshire,
 
 92 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 Snob, my hoy, and I'll give you as good a day's shooting, and aa 
 good a glass of Claret as any in the county." — " "Well," I said, 
 " I liked Hollands much better than Port, and Gin even better 
 than Hollands." This was lucky. It iras gin ; and Stripes brought 
 in hot water on a splendid plated tray. 
 
 The jingling of a harp and piano soon announced that Mrs. 
 Ponto's un(/ pu, de AEusich Lad commenced, and the smell of the 
 stable again entering the dining-room, in the person of Stripes, 
 summoned us to caffy and the little concert. She beckoned me 
 with a winning smile to the sofa, on which she made room for me, 
 and where we could command a fine view of the backs of the 
 young ladies who were performing the musical entertainment. 
 Very broad backs they were too, strictly according to the present 
 mode, for crinoline or its substitutes is not an expensive luxury, 
 and young people in the country can afford to be in the fashion at 
 very trifling charges. Miss Emily Ponto at the piano, and her 
 sister Maria at that somewhat exploded instrument, the harp, were 
 in light blue dresses that looked all flounce and spread out like 
 Mr. Green's balloon when inflated. 
 
 "Brilliant touch Emily has — what a fine arm Maria's is," Mrs. 
 Ponto remarked good-naturedly, pointing out the merits of her 
 daughters, and waving her own arm in such a way as to show that 
 she was not a little satisfied with the beauty of that member. I 
 observed she had about nine bracelets and bangles, consisting of 
 chains and padlocks, the Major's miniature, and a variety of brass 
 serpents with fiery ruby or tender turquoise eyes, writhing up to 
 her elbow almost, in the most profuse contortions. 
 
 " Tou recognise those polkas ? They were played at Devonshire 
 House on the 23rd of July, the day of the grand fete?" So I 
 said yes — I knew 'em quite intimately; and began wagging my 
 head as if in acknowledgment of those old friends. 
 
 When the performance was concluded, I had the felicity of a 
 presentation and conversation with the two tall and scraggy Miss 
 Pontes ; and Miss Wirt, the governess, sate down to entertain us 
 with variations on " Sich a gettin' up stairs." They were deter- 
 mined to be in the fashion. 
 
 For the performance of the " Gettin' up Stairs," I have no other 
 name but that it was a stunner. First Miss Wirt, with great
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 93 
 
 deliberation, played the original and beautiful melody, cutting it, 
 as it were, out of the instrument, and firing oiF eacli note so loud, 
 clear, and sharp, that I am sure Stripes must have heard it in the 
 stable. 
 
 " "What a finger !" says Mrs. Ponto ; and indeed it loas a finger, as 
 knotted as a turkey's drumstick, and splaying all over the piano. 
 When she had banged out the tune slowly, she began a difierent 
 manner of " Gettin' up Stairs," and did so with a fury and swift- 
 ness quite incredible. She spun up stairs ; she whirled up stairs ; 
 she galloped up stairs ; she rattled up stairs ; and then, having got 
 the tune to the top landing, as it were, she hurled it down again 
 shrieking to the bottom floor, where it sank in a crash as if 
 exhausted by the breathless rapidity of the descent. Then Miss 
 "Wirt played the " Gettin' up Stairs " with the most pathetic and 
 ravishing solemnity: plaintive moans and sobs issued from the 
 keys — you wept and trembled as you were gettiu' up stairs. Miss 
 Wirt's hands seemed to faint and wail and die in variations : 
 again, and she went up with a savage clang and rush of trumpets, 
 as if Miss Wirt was storming a breach ; and although I knew 
 nothing of music, as I sate and listened with my mouth open to 
 this wonderful display, my cajfy grew cold, and I wondered the 
 windows did not crack and the chandelier start out of the beam 
 at the sound of this earthquake of a piece of music. 
 
 " Glorious creature ! Isn't she ?" said Mrs. Ponto. " Squirtz's 
 favourite pupil — inestimable to have such a creature. Lady Carabas 
 would give her eyes for her ! A prodigy of accomplishments ! 
 Thank you. Miss AVirt ! " — and the young ladies gave a heave and 
 a gasp of admiration — a deep-breathing gushing sound, such as 
 you hear at church when tlie sermon comes to a full stop. 
 
 Miss Wirt put her two great double-knuckled hands round a 
 waist of her two pupils, and said, " My dear children, I hope you 
 will be able to play it soon as well as your poor little governess. 
 AVhen I lived with the Dunsinancs, it was the dear Duchess's 
 favourite, and Lady Barbara and Lady Jane McBeth learned it. 
 It was while hearing Jane play that, I remember, that dear Lord 
 Castletoddy first fell in love with her ? and though he is but an 
 Irish Peer, witli not more than fifteen thousand a year, I persuaded 
 Jane to have him. Do you know Castletoddy, Mr. Snob ? — round
 
 94 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 towers — sweet place — County Mayo. Old Lord Castletoddy (the 
 present Lord was then Lord Inishowan) was a most eccentric old 
 man — they say he was mad. I heard his Royal Highness the poor 
 dear Duke of Sussex — (such a man, my dears, but alas ! addicted 
 to smoking !) — I heard his Royal Highness say to the Marquis of 
 Anglesea, ' I am sure Castletoddy is mad ! ' but Inishowan wasn't 
 in marrying my sweet Jane, though the dear child had but her 
 ten thousand pounds jjozw tout jyotacje V 
 
 " Most invaluable person," whispered Mrs. Major Ponto to me. 
 "Has lived in the very highest society:" and I, who have been 
 accustomed to see governesses bullied in the world, was delighted 
 to find this one ruling the roast, and to think that even the majestic 
 Mrs. Ponto bent before her. 
 
 As for my pipe, so to speak, it went out at once. I hadn't a 
 word to say against a woman who was intimate with every Duchess 
 in the Red Book. She wasn't the rose-bud, but she had been near 
 it. She had rubbed shoulders with the great, and about these we 
 talked all the evening incessantly, and about the fashions, and 
 about the Court, until bed-time came. 
 
 " And are there Snobs in this Elysium?" I exclaimed, jumping 
 into the lavender-perfumed bed. Ponto's snoring boomed from 
 the neighbouring bed-room in reply. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 OrS SOME COITNTET SIS'OBS. 
 
 Something like a journal of the proceedings of the Evergreens 
 may be interesting to those foreign readers of Fundi, who want 
 to know the customs of an English gentleman's family and house- 
 hold. There's plenty of time to keep the Journal. Piano strum- 
 ming begins at six o'clock in the morning ; it lasts till breakfast, 
 with but a minute's intermission, when the instrument changes 
 hands, and Miss Emily practises in place of her sister. Miss 
 Maria. 
 
 In fact, the confounded instrument never stops : when tlie 
 young ladies are at their lessons. Miss "Wirt hammers away at
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS, 95 
 
 those stunning variations, and keeps lier magnificent finger in 
 exercise. 
 
 I asked this great creature in what other branches of education 
 she instructed her pupils? "The modern languages," says she 
 modestly, " French, German, Spanish, and Itahan, Latin and the 
 rudiments of Greek if desired. English of course ; the practice 
 of Elocution, Geography and Astronomy, and the Use of the 
 Globes, Algebra, (but only as far as quadratic equations) ; for a 
 poor ignorant female, you know, Mr. Snob, cannot be expected to 
 know everything. Ancient and Modern History no young woman 
 can be without ; and of these I make my beloved pupils perfect 
 onistresses. Botany, Geology, and Mineralogy, I consider as 
 amusements. And with these I assure you we manage to pass 
 the days at the Evergreens not unpleasantly." 
 
 Only these, thought I — what an education ! But I looked in 
 one of Miss Ponto's manuscript song-books and found five faults 
 of Erench in four words : and in a waggish mood asking Miss 
 "Wirt whether Dante Algiery was so called because he was born at 
 Algiers ? received a smiling answer in the affirmative, which made 
 me rather doubt about the accuracy of Miss Wirt's knowledge. 
 
 When the above little morning occupations arc concluded, 
 these unfortunate young women perform what they call Calli- 
 sthenic Exercises in the garden. I saw them to-day, without any 
 crinoline, pulling the garden roller. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Ponto was in the garden too, and as limp as her 
 daughters ; in a faded bandeau of hair, in a battered bonnet, in a 
 Holland pinafore, in pattens, on a broken chair, snipping leaves oflf 
 a vine. Mrs. Ponto measures many yards about in an evening. Te 
 heavens ! what a guy she is in that skeleton morning costume ! 
 
 Besides Stripes, they keep a boy called Thomas or Tummus. 
 Tummus works in the garden or about the pigstye and stable ; 
 Thomas wears a page's costume of eruptive buttons. 
 
 When anybody calls, and Stripes is out of the way, Tummus 
 flings himself like mad into Thomas's clothes, and comes out 
 metamorphosed like Harlequin in the pantomime. To-day, as 
 Mrs. P, was cutting the grape-vine, as the young ladies were at
 
 ?6 THE BOOK OF SXOBS. 
 
 the roUei', down comes Tummus like a roaring whirlwind, witli 
 " Missus, Missus, there's compauy cocmin ! " Away skurry the 
 young ladies from the roller, down comes Mrs. P. from the old 
 chair, off flies Tummus to change his clothes, and in an incredibly 
 short space of time Sir John Hawbuck, my Lady Hawbuck, and 
 Master Hugh Hawbuck are introduced into the garden with 
 brazen effrontery by Thomas, who says, " Please Sir Jan and my 
 Lady to walk this year way : I Tcnoio Missus is in the rose- 
 garden." 
 
 And there, sure enough, she was ! 
 
 In a pretty little garden bonnet, with beautiful curling ringlets, 
 with the smartest of aprons and the freshest of peal-coloured 
 gloves, this amazing woman was in the arms of her dearest Lady 
 Hawbuck. " Dearest Lady Hawbuck, how good of you ! Always 
 among my flowers ! can't live away from them ! " 
 
 " Sweets to the sweet ! hum — a-ha — haw ! " says Sir John 
 Hawbuck, who piques himself on his gallantry, and says nothing 
 without "a-hum — a-ha — a-haw !" 
 
 " "Where th yaw pinnafaw?" cries Master Hugh, "We thaw 
 you in it, over the wall, didn't we, Pa ?" 
 
 " Hum — a-ha — a-haw ! " burst out Sir John, di-eadfully alarmed, 
 " Where's Ponto ? AYhy wasn't he at Quarter Sessions ? How 
 are his birds this year, Mrs. Ponto — have those Carabas phea- 
 sants done any harm to your wheat? a-hum — a-ha — a-haw!" 
 and all this while he was making the most ferocious and desperate 
 signals to his vouthful heir. 
 
 ""Well, she ivath in her pinnafaw, wathn't she, Ma?" says 
 Hugh, quite unabashed ; which question Lady Hawbuck turned 
 away with a sudden query regarding her dear darling daughters, 
 and the enfant terrible was removed by his father. 
 
 "I hope you weren't disturbed by the music," Ponto says. 
 " My girls, you know, practise four hours a-day, you know — must 
 do it, you know — absolutely necessary. As for me, you know 
 I'm an early man, and in my farm every morning at five — no, no 
 laziness for me." 
 
 The facts are these. Ponto goes to sleep directly after dinner 
 on entering the drawing-room, and wakes up when the ladies
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 97 
 
 leave off practice at ten. From seven till ten, and from ten till 
 five, is a very fair allowance of slumber for a man who says he's 
 not a lazy man. It is my private opinion, that when Ponto retires 
 to what is called his "Study," he sleeps too. He locks himself 
 up there daily two hours with the newspaper. 
 
 I saw the IlawlucJc scene out of the Study which commands 
 the garden. It's a curious object, that Study. Ponto's library 
 mostly consists of boots. He and Stripes have important inter- 
 views here of mornings, when the potatoes are discussed, or the 
 fate of the calf ordained, or sentence passed on the pig, &c. All 
 the major's bills are docketed on the Study table and displayed 
 like a lawyer's briefs. Here, too, lie displayed his hooks, knives, 
 and other gardening irons, his whistles, and strings of spare 
 buttons. He has a drawer of endless brown paper for parcels, 
 and another containing a prodigious and never-failing supply of 
 string. "What a man can want with so many gig-wliips I can 
 never conceive. These, and fishing-rods, aud landing-nets, and 
 spurs, and boot-trees, and balls for horses, and surgical imple- 
 ments for the same, and favourite pots of shiny blacking, with 
 which he paints his own shoes in the most elegant manner, and 
 buck-skin gloves stretched out on their trees, and his gorget, 
 sash, and sabre of the Horse Marines, with his boot-hooks under- 
 neath in a trophy ; and the family medicine-chest, and in a corner 
 the very rod with which he used to whip his son, Wellesley Ponto, 
 when a boy (Wellesley never entered the " Study " but for that 
 awful purpose) — all these, with Moycj s Road Book, the Gardeners' 
 Chronicle, and a backgammon board, form the Major's library. 
 Under the trophy there's a picture of Mrs. Ponto, in a light blue 
 dress and train, and no waist, when she was first married ; a fox's 
 brush lies over the frame, and serves to keep the dust off that 
 work of art. 
 
 " My library's small," says Ponto, with the most amazing 
 impudence, " but well selected, my boy — well selected. I have 
 been reading the History of England all the morning."
 
 93 THE. BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 
 
 We had tlie fish, which, as the kind reader may remember, I 
 had brought down in a delicate attention to Mrs. Ponto,.to 
 variegate the repast of next day ; and cod and oyster sauce, twice 
 laid, salt cod and scolloped oysters, formed parts of the bill of 
 fare ; until I began to fancy that the Ponto family, like our late 
 revered monarch George II., had a fancy for stale fish. And 
 about this time the pig being consumed, we began upon a sheep. 
 
 But how shall I forget the solemn splendour of a second course, 
 which was served up in great state by Stripes in a silver dish and 
 cover, a napkin twisted round his dirty thumbs ; and consisted of 
 a landrail, not much bigger than a corpulent sparrow. 
 
 " My love, will you take any game?" says Ponto, with prodigious 
 gravity ; and stuck his fork into that little mouthful of an island 
 in the silver sea. Stripes, too, at intervals, dribbled out the 
 IMarsala with a solemnity which woidd have done honour to a 
 Duke's butler. The Barmecide's dinner to Shacabac was only one 
 degree removed from these solemn banquets. 
 
 As there were plenty of pretty country places close by ; a com- 
 fortable country town, with good houses of gentlefolks ; a beautiful 
 old parsonage, close to the church whither we went, (and where 
 the Carabas family have their ancestral carved and monumented 
 gothic pew,) and every appearance of good society in the neigh- 
 bourhood, I rather wondered we were not enlivened by the 
 appearance of some of the neighbours at the Evergreens, and 
 asked about them. 
 
 " We can't in our position of life — we can't well associate with 
 the attorney's family, as I leave you to suppose," said Mrs. Ponto, 
 confidentially. " Of course not," I answered, though I didn't 
 know why. " And the Doctor ? " said I, 
 
 "A most excellent worthy creature," says Mrs. P., "saved 
 Maria's life — really a learned man ; but what can one do in one's 
 position ? One may ask one's medical man to one's table cer- 
 tainly : but his family, my dear Mr. Snob ! "
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 99 
 
 "Half a dozen little gallipots," interposed Miss TVirt, the 
 governess : he, he, he ! and the j^oung ladies laughed in chorus. 
 
 "We only live with the country families," Miss "Wirt* con- 
 tinued, tossing up her head. " The Duke is abroad : we are at 
 feud with the Carabases ; the Ringwoods don't come down till 
 Christmas : in fact, nobody's here till the hunting season — 
 positively nobody," 
 
 " Whose is the large red house just outside of the town ? " 
 
 " What ! the cMteau-calicot ? he, he, he ! That purse-pi'oud 
 ex-linendraper, Mr. Tardley, with the yellow liveries, and the wife 
 in red velvet ? How can you, my dear Mr. Snob, be so satirical ? 
 The impertinence of those people is really something quite over- 
 whelming." 
 
 " Well, then, there is the parson, Doctor Chrysostom. He's a 
 gentleman, at any rate." 
 
 At this Mrs. Ponto looked at Miss Wirt. After their eyes had 
 met and they had wagged their heads at each other, they looked 
 up to the ceiling. So did the young ladies. They thrilled. It 
 was evident I had said something very terrible. Another black 
 slieep in the Church? thought I, with a little sorrow ; for I don't 
 care to own that I have a respect for the cloth. " I — I hope 
 there's nothing wrong ? " 
 
 " Wrong?" says Mrs. P. clasping her hands with a tragic air. 
 
 " Oh ! " says Miss Wirt, and the two girls, gasping in chorus. 
 
 " AVell," says I, " I'm very sorry for it. I never saw a nicer- 
 looking old gentleman, or a better school, or heard a better 
 sermon." ^ 
 
 "He used to preach those sermons in a surplice," liissed out 
 Mrs. Ponto. " He's a Puseyite, Mr. Snob." 
 
 " Heavenly pov\-ers ! " says I, admiring the pure ardour of these 
 
 '^ I Live since lieai'd tliat tliis aristocratic lady's fatlier was a livery -button 
 maker in St. Martin's Lane : where he met with misfortunes, and his daughter 
 acquired her taste for heraldry. But it may bo told to her credit, that out of her 
 earnings she has kept the bed-ridden old bankrupt in great comfort and secrecy at 
 Pentonville; and furnished her brother's outfit for the Cadetship which her 
 patron, Lord Swigglebiggle, gave her when he was at the Board of Control. I 
 have this information from a friend. To hear Miss Wirt herself, you would fancy- 
 that her Papa was a Rothschild, and that the markets of Eiirope were convulsed 
 when he went into th.e Gazette.
 
 100 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 female theologians ; and Stripes came in with tlie tea. It's so 
 Aveak that no wonder Ponto's sleep isn't disturbed by it. 
 
 Of mornings we used to go out shooting. "We had Ponto's own 
 iields to sport over (where we got the fieldfare), and the non- 
 preserved part of the Hawbuck property : and one evening, in a 
 stubble of Pouto's, skirting the Carabas woods, we got among 
 some pheasaats, and had some real sport. I shot a hen, I know, 
 greatly to my delight. " Bag it," says Ponto, in rather a hurried 
 manner, " here's somehody coming." So I pocketed the bird. 
 
 " You infernal poaching thieves ! " roars out a man from the 
 hedge in the garb of a gamekeeper. " I wish I could catch you 
 on this side of the hedge. I'd put a brace of barrels into you, that 
 I would." 
 
 "Curse that Snapper," says Ponto, moving off; "he's always 
 watching me like a sp3\" 
 
 " Carry off the birds, you sneaks, and sell 'em to London," 
 roars the individual, who it appears was a keeper of Lord Carabas. 
 " You'll get six shillings a brace for 'em." 
 
 " You know tlie price of 'em well enough, and so does your 
 master too, you scoundrel," says Ponto, still retreating. 
 
 " We kills 'em on our ground," cries Mr. Snapper. " We don't 
 set traps for other people's b'rds. We're no decoy ducks, AVe're 
 no sneaking poachers. We don't shoot 'ens, like that ere Cockney, 
 who's got the tail of one a-stickiug out of his pocket. Only just 
 come across the hedge, that's all." 
 
 "I tell you what," says Stripes, who was out with us as keeper 
 this day, (in fact he's keeper, coachman, gardener, valet, and bailiff, 
 with Tummus under him.) "if_yo«'/Z coine across, John Snapper, 
 and take your coat off, I'le give 30U such a wapping as you've 
 never had since the last time I did it at Guttlebury Fair." 
 
 " Wap one of your own weight," Mr. Snapper said, whistling 
 his dogs and disappearing into the wood. And so we came out of 
 this controversy rather victoriously; but I began to alter my 
 preconceived ideas of rural felicity.
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 101 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOES. 
 
 " Be hanged to your aristocrats ! " Ponto said, in some con- 
 versation we had regarding the family at Carabas, between whom 
 and the Evergreens there was a feud, — " When I first came into 
 tlie County — it was the year before Sir John Buff contested in 
 the Blue interest— the Marquis, then Lord St. Michaels, who, of 
 course, was Orange to the core, paid me and Mrs. Ponto such 
 attentions, that I fairly confess I was taken in by the old liumbug, 
 and thought that I'd met with a rare neighbour. 'Gad, Sir, we 
 used to get pines from Carabas, and pheasants from Carabas, and 
 it was — ' Ponto, when will you come over and shoot ? ' — and — 
 * Ponto, our pheasants want thinning,' — and my Lady would insist 
 upon her dear Mrs. Ponto coming over to Carabas to sleep, and 
 put me I don't know to what expense for turbans and velvet gowns 
 for my wife's toilette. Well, Sir, the election takes place, and 
 though I was always a Liberal, personal friendship of course 
 induces me to plump for St. Michaels, who comes in at the head 
 of the poll. Next year, Mrs. P. insists upon going to town — with 
 lodgings in Clarges Street at ten pounds a-week, with a hired 
 Brougham, and new dresses for herself and the girls, and the 
 deuce and all to pay. Our first cards were to Carabas House ; 
 my Lady's are returned by a great big flunky : and I leave you to 
 fancy my poor Betsy's discomfiture as the lodging-house maid took 
 in the cards, and Lad}'- St. Michaels drives away, though she 
 actually saw us at the drawing-room window. Would you believe 
 it. Sir, that though we called four times afterwards those infernal 
 aristocrats never returned our visit; that though Lady St. Michaels 
 gave nine dinner-parties and four cUjeuners that season, she never 
 asked us to one ; and that she cut us dead at the Opera, though 
 Betsy was nodding to her the whole night. We wrote to her for 
 tickets for Almack's; she writes to say that all hers were pro- 
 mised ; and said, in the presence of Wiggins, her lady's-maid, who 
 told it to Higgs, my wife's woman, that she couldn't conceive how 
 people in our station of life could so i'ar forget themselves as to
 
 102 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 wish to appear in any sucli place ! Go to Castle Carabas ! I'd 
 sooner die than set my foot in the house of that i)npertinenty 
 insolvent, insolent jackanapes — and I hold him in scorn ! " After 
 this, Ponto gave me some private information regarding Lord 
 Carabas's pecuniary affairs ; how he owed money all over the 
 County ; how Jukes the carpenter was utterly ruined and couldn't 
 get a shilling of his bill ; how Biggs the butcher hanged himself 
 for the same reason ; how the six big footmen never received a 
 guinea of wages, and Snaffle, the state coachman, actually took off 
 his blown-glass whig of ceremony and flung it at Lady Carabas's 
 feet on the Terrace before tlie Castle ; all which stories, as they 
 are private, I do not think proper to divulge. But these details 
 did not stifle my desire to see the famous mansion of Castle 
 Carabas, nay, possibly excited my interest to know more about 
 that lordly house and its owners. 
 
 At the entrance of the park, there are a pair of great gaunt 
 mildewed lodges — mouldy Doric temples with black chimney-pots 
 in the finest classic taste, and the gates of course are surmounted 
 by the chats lottes, tlie well-known supporters of the Carabas 
 family. " Give the lodge-keeper a shilling," says Ponto, (who 
 drove me near to it in his four-wheeled cruelty-chaise), "I warrant 
 it's the first piece of ready money he has received for some time." 
 I don't know whether there was any foundation for this sneer, but 
 the gratuity was received with a curtsey, and the gate opened for 
 me to enter. " Poor old porteress ! " says I, inwardly. " Tou 
 little Imow that it ia the Historian of Snobs whom you let in ? " 
 The gates were passed. A damp green stretch of park spread 
 right and left immeasurably, confined by a chilly grey wall, and a 
 damp long straight road between two huge rows of moist, dismal 
 lime-trees, leads up to the Castle. In the midst of the park is a 
 great black tank or lake, bristling over with rushes, and here and 
 there covered over with patches of pea-soup. A shabby temple 
 rises on an island in this delectable lake, which is approached by a 
 rotten barge that lies at roost in a dilapidated boat-house. Clumps 
 of elms and oaks dot over the huge green flat. Every one of them 
 would have been down long since, but that the Marquis is not 
 allowed to cut the timber.
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 103 
 
 Up that long avenue the Snobographer walked in solitude. 
 At the seventy-ninth tree on the left-hand-side, the insolvent 
 butcher hanged himself. I scarcely wondered at the dismal 
 deed, so woful and sad were the impressions connected with 
 the place. So, for a mile-and-a-half I walked — alone and thinking 
 of death. 
 
 I forgot to say the house is in full view all the way — 
 except when intercepted by the trees on the miserable 
 island in the lake — an enormous red-brick mansion, square, 
 vast, and dingy. It is flanked by four stone towers with 
 weathercocks. In the midst of the grand facade is a huge 
 Ionic portico, approached by a vast, lonely, ghastly staircase. 
 Erows of black windows framed in stone, stretch on either 
 side, right and left — three stories and eigliteen windows of a 
 row. Tou may see a picture of the palace and staircase, in 
 the Views of England and "Wales, witli four carved and gilt 
 carriages waiting at the gravel walk, and several parties of 
 ladies and gentlemen in wigs and hoops, dotting the fiitiguing 
 lines of the stairs. 
 
 But these stairs are made in great houses for people not to 
 ascend. The first Lady Carabas (they are but eighty years in 
 the peerage), if she got out of her gilt coach in a shower, would be 
 wet to the skin before she got half-way to the carved Ionic portico, 
 where four dreary statues of Peace, Plenty, Piety and Patriotism, 
 are the only sentinels. Tou enter these palaces by back doors. 
 " That was the way the Carabases got their peerage," the misan- 
 thropic Ponto said after dinner. 
 
 "Well — I rang the bell at a little low side-door ; it clanged and 
 jingled and echoed for a long, long while, till at length a face, as 
 of a housekeeper, peered through the door, and, as she saw my 
 hand in my waistcoat pocket, opened it. Unhappy, lonely, house- 
 keeper, I thought. Is Miss Crusoe in her island more solitary ? 
 The door clapped to, and I was in Castle Carabas. 
 
 "The side entrance and All," says tlie housekeeper. "The 
 halligator hover the mantelpiece was brought home by Hadmiral 
 St. Michaels, when a Capting with Lord Hanson. The harms on 
 the cheers is the harms of the Carabas family," The hall was 
 rather comfoi'table. "We went clapping up a clean stone back-
 
 104 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 stair, and then into a back passage cheerruUy decorated with 
 ragged liglit-grceu kidderminster, aud issued upon 
 
 " THE GREAT ALL. 
 
 " Tlie great all is seventy-two feet in lentb, fifty-six in breath, 
 and thirty-eight feet 'igh. The carvings of the chimlies, repre- 
 senting the buth of Venus, and Ercules, and Eyelash, is by Van 
 Chislum, the most famous sculpture of his hage and country. The 
 ceiling, by Calimanco, represents Painting, Harchitecture and 
 3Iusic, (the naked female figure with the barrel horgan) introduc- 
 ing George, fust Lord Carabas, to the Temple of the Muses. The 
 winder ornaments is by Vanderputty. The floor is Patagonian 
 marble ; and the chandelier in the centre was presented to Lionel, 
 second Marquis, by Lewy the Sixteenth, whose 'ead was cut hofF 
 in the French Eevelation. "V\'e now heuter 
 
 "the south gallery, 
 
 " One 'undred and forty-eight in lenth by thirty-two in breath ; 
 it is profusely hornaminted by the choicest works of Hart. Sir 
 Andrew Katz, founder of the Carabas family and banker of the 
 Prince of Horange, Kneller. Her present Ladyship, by Lawrence. 
 Lord St. Michaels, by the same — he is represented sittin' on a rock 
 in velvit pantaloons. Moses in the buUrushes — the bull very fine, 
 by Paul Potter. The toilet of Venus, Fantaski. Flemish Bores 
 drinking. Van Ginnums. Jupiter and Europia, de Horn. The 
 Grandjuuction Caual, Venis, by Candleetty ; and Italian Bandix, 
 by Slavata Eosa." — Aud so this worthy woman went on, from one 
 room into another, from the blue room to the green, and the green 
 to the grand saloon, and the grand saloon to the tapestry closet, 
 cackling her list of pictures aud wonders ; and furtively turning 
 up a corner of brown hoUaud to show the colour of the old, faded, 
 seedy, mouldy, dismal hangings. 
 
 At last we catne to lier Ladyship's bed-room. In the centre of 
 this dreary apartraeut there is a bed about the size of one of those 
 whizgig temples in which the Genius appears in a pantomime. 
 The huge gilt edifice is approached by steps, aud so tall, that it 
 might be let off in floors, for sleeping-rooms for all the Carabas 
 family. An awful bed ! A mui'der might be done at one end of
 
 ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 105 
 
 that bed, and people sleeping at the other end be ignorant of it. 
 Gracious powers ! fancy little Lord Carabas in a night-cap ascend- 
 ing those steps after puttuig out the candle ! 
 
 The sight of that seedy and solitary splendour was too much 
 for me, I should go mad were I that lonely housekeeper — in 
 those enormous galleries — in that lonely library, filled up with 
 ghastly folios that nobody dares read, with an inkstand on the 
 centre table like the coffin of a baby, and sad portraits staring at 
 you from the bleak walls with their solemn mouldy eyes. No 
 wonder that Carabas does not come down liere often. It would 
 require two thousand footmen to make the place cheerful. No 
 wonder the coachman resigned his wig, that the masters are insol- 
 vent, and the servants perish in this huge dreary out-at-elbow 
 place. - » 
 
 A single family has no more right to build itself a temple of 
 that sort than to erect a tower of Babel. Such a habitation is 
 not decent for a mere mortal man. But, after all, I suppose poor 
 Carabas had no choice. Fate put him there as it sent Napoleon 
 to St. Helena. Suppose it had been decreed by Nature that you 
 and I should be Marquises ? We wouldn't refuse, I suppose, but 
 take Castle Carabas and all, with debts, duns, and mean make- 
 shifts, and shabby pride, and swindling magnificence. 
 
 Next season, when I read of Lady Carabas's splendid entertain- 
 ments in the 2fo>-?iiuff Post, and see the poor old insolvent canter- 
 ing through the Park — I shall have a much tenderer interest in 
 these great people than I have had heretofore. Poor old shabby 
 Snob ! Ride on and fancy the world is still on its knees before 
 the house of Carabas! Give yourself airs, poor old bankrupt 
 Magnifico, who are under money-obligations to your flunkies ; and 
 must stoop so as to swindle poor tradesmen ! And for us, O my 
 brother Snobs, ouglitn't we to feel happy if our walk through life 
 is more even, and that we are out of the reach of that surprising 
 arrogance and that astounding meanness to which this wretched 
 old victim is obliged to mount and descend.
 
 106 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 CHAPTEH XXIX. 
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 
 
 J^OTABLE as my reception had been (under tliat unfortunate 
 mistake of Mrs. Ponto that I was related to Lord Snobbington, 
 which I was not permitted to correct), it was nothing compared 
 to the bowing and kotooing, the raptures, and flurry which pre- 
 ceded and welcomed the visit of a real live lord and lord's son, a 
 brother officer of Cornet "WeUesley Ponto, in the 120th Hussars, 
 wlio came over with the young Cornet from Guttlebury, where 
 their distinguished regiment was quartered — this was my Lord 
 Gules, Lord Saltire's grandson and heir: a very young short 
 sandy-haired and tobacco-smoking nobleman, who cannot have left 
 the nursery very long, and who, though he accepted the honest 
 Major's invitation to the Evergreens in a letter written in a school- 
 boy handwriting, with a number of faiilts of spelling, may yet be 
 a very fine classical scholar for what I know : having had his edu- 
 cation at Eton, where he and young Ponto were inseparable. 
 
 At any rate, if he can't write, he has mastered a number of other 
 accomplishments wonderful for one of his age and size. He is one 
 of the best shots and riders in England. He rode his horse 
 Abracadabra, and won the famous Guttlebury steeple-chase. He 
 has horses entered at half the races in the country (under otlier 
 people's names ; for the old lord is a strict hand, and will not hear 
 of betting or gambling). He has lost and won such sums of 
 money as my Lord George himself might be proud of. He knows 
 all the stables, and all the jockeys, and has all the " information," 
 and is a match for the best Leg at Newmarket. Nobody was ever 
 known to be " too much " for him : at play or in the stable. 
 
 Although his grandfather makes him a moderate allowance, by 
 the aid of post-obits and convenient friends he can live in a 
 splendour becoming his rank. He has not distinguished himself 
 in the knocking down of policemen much ; he is not big enough 
 for that. But, as a light-weight, his skill is of the very highest 
 order. At billiards he is said to be first-rate. He drinks and 
 smokes as much as any two of the biggest officers in his regiment.
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOES. lOT 
 
 "With such higli talents, who can say how far he may not go ? He 
 may take to politics as a dclassement, and be Prime Minister 
 after Lord Greorge Bentinck. 
 
 My youug friend Wellesley Ponto is a gaunt and bony youtli, 
 with a pale face profusely blotched. Prom his continually pulling 
 something on his chin, I am led to fancy that he believes he has 
 what is called an Imperial growing there. That is not the only 
 tuft that is hunted in the family, by the way. He can't, of 
 course, indulge in those expensive amusements which render his 
 aristocratic comrade so respected : he bets pretty freely when he 
 is in cash, and rides when somebody mounts him (for lie can't 
 afford more than his regulation chargers). At drinking he is by 
 no means inferior ; and why do you think he brought his noble 
 friend, Lord Gules, to the Evergreens ? — Why ? because he 
 intended to ask his mother to order his father to pay his debts, 
 which she couldn't refuse before such an exalted presence. 
 Toung Ponto gave me all this information with the most engaging 
 frankness. We are old friends. I used to tip him when he was 
 at school. 
 
 "Gad!" says he, "our wedgment's so dootliid exthpenthif. 
 Must hunt, you know. A man couldn't live in the wedgment 
 if he didn't. Mess expenses enawmuth. Must dine at mess. 
 Must drink champagne and claret. Our's aint a port and sherry 
 light-infantry mess. Uniform's awful. Pitzstultz, our Colonel, 
 will have 'em so. Must be a distinction you know. At his own 
 expense Pitzstultz altered the plumes in the men's caps (you 
 called them shaving brushes, Snob, my boy : most absurd and 
 unjust that attack of yours, by the way) ; that altewation alone 
 cotht him five hundred pound. The year befaw latht he horthed 
 the wegiment at an immenthe expenthe, and we're called the 
 Queen'th Own Pyebalds from that day. Ever theen uth on 
 pawade ? The Empewar Nicholath burtlit into tearth of envy 
 when he thaw uth at Windthor. And you see," continued my 
 youug friend, " I brought Gules down with me, as the Governor 
 is very sulky about shelling out, just to talk my mother over, 
 who can do anything with him. Gules told her that I was 
 Pitzstultz's favourite of the whole regiment ; and, Gad ! she 
 thinks the Horse Guards will give me my troop for nothing,.
 
 108 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 and he humbugged the Governor tliat I was the greatest screw 
 in tlie army, Aint it a good dodge ? " 
 
 AVith this AVellesley left me to go and smoke a cigar in the 
 stables with Lord Gules, and make merry over the cattle there, 
 under Stripes's superintendence. Toung Ponto laughed with his 
 friend, at the venerable four-wheeled cruelty-chaise ; but seemed 
 amazed that the latter should ridicule still more an aucient chariot 
 of the build of 1824, emblazoned immensely with the arms of the 
 Poutos and the Snaileys, from which latter distinguished family 
 Mrs. Ponto issued. 
 
 I found poor Pon. in his study among his boots, in such a 
 rueful attitude of despondency, that I could not but remark it. 
 " Look at that ! " saj's the poor fellow, handing me over a docu- 
 ment. " It's the second change in uniform since he's been in the 
 army, and yet there's no extravagance about the lad. Lord 
 Gules tells me he is the most careful youngster in the regiment, 
 God bless him ! But look at that ! by Heaven, Snob, look at 
 that, and say how can a man of nin^ hundred keep out of the 
 Bench ? He gave a sob as he handed me the paper across the 
 table ; and his old face, and his old corduroys, and his shrunk 
 shooting-jacket, and his lean shanks, looked, as he spoke, more 
 miserably haggard, bankrupt, and threadbare. 
 
 Lieut. Welleslcy Ponto, l'20lh Queen's Own Pijelahl Hussars, 
 
 To Knopf and StccTcnadel, 
 
 Conduit Street, London. 
 
 Dress Jacket, richly laced .£ s. d. \ £ s. d. 
 
 with gold . . . 35 I Brought forward 207 3 
 
 Ditto Pelisse ditto, and Gold Barrelled Sash . . 11 IS 
 
 trimmed with sable . . CO Sword . . . . 11 11 
 
 Undress Jacket, trimmed ' Ditto Belt and Sahretache . IG 10 
 
 with gold . . . 15 15 ' Touch and Belt . . . 15 15 
 
 Ditto Pelisse . . . 30 
 
 Dress Pantaloons : .12 
 Ditto Overalls, gold lace ou sides G 6 
 Undress ditto ditto . .550 
 
 Blue Braided Frock . . 14 U 
 Forage Cap . . .330 
 Dress Cap, gold lines, jdume 
 
 and chain . . . . 25 
 
 Sword Knot . . ..140 
 
 Cloak . . . . 13 13 
 
 Valise 3 13 6 
 
 Regulation Sad<lle . . 7 17 G 
 
 Ditto Bridle, complete . . 10 10 
 
 A Dress Housing, complete 30 
 
 A pair Pistols . . . 10 10 
 
 A Black Sheepskin, edged . 6 IS 
 
 Cairicd forward £207 3 i ^347 i)
 
 ox SOME COUNTRY SXOBS. 109 
 
 That evening Mrs. Ponto and her family made their darling 
 AVellesley give a full, true, and particular account of everything 
 that had taken place at Lord Eitzstultz's ; how many servants 
 waited at dinner ; and how the ladies Schiieider dressed ; and 
 what his Royal Highness said when he came down to shoot ; and 
 who was tliere ? " What a blessing that boy is to me ! " said she, 
 as my pimple-faced young friend moved oft' to resume smoking 
 operations with Gules in the now vacant kitchen ; — and poor 
 Ponto's dreary and desperate look, shall I ever forget that ? 
 
 O you parents and guardians ! you men and women of sense 
 in England ! you legislators about to assemble in Parliament ! 
 read over that tailor's bill above printed — read over that absurd 
 catalogue of insane gimcracks and madman's tomfoolery — and say 
 how are you ever to get rid of Snobbishness when society does so 
 much for its education ? 
 
 Three hundred and forty pounds for a young chap's saddle and 
 breeches ! Before George, I would rather be a Hottentot or a 
 Highlander. We laugh at poor Jocko, the monkey, dancing in 
 uniform ; or at poor Jeames, the flunkey, with his quivering calves 
 and plush tights ; or at the nigger Marquis of Marmelade, dressed 
 out with sabre and epaulets, and giving himself the airs of a field- 
 marshal. Lo ! is not one of the Queen's Pyebalds, in full fig, as 
 trreat and foolish a monster ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 ox SOME COUKTRT SXOBS. 
 
 At last came that fortunate day at the Evergreens, when I was 
 to be made acquainted with some of the " county fiunilies " with 
 whom (miy people of Ponto's rank condescended to associate. 
 And now, although poor Ponto had just been so cruelly made 
 to bleed on occasion of his son's new uniform, and thoujrh 
 he was in the direst and most cut-throat spirits with an overdrawn 
 account at the banker's, and other pressing evils of poverty ; 
 although a tenpenny bottle of Marsala and an awful parsimony 
 presided generally at his table, yet the poor fellow was obliged to
 
 110 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 assume the most frank and jovial air of cordiality ; and all the 
 covers being removed from the hangings, and new dresses being 
 procured for the young ladies, and the family plate being unlocked 
 and displayed, the house and all within assumed a benevolent and 
 festive appearance. The kitchen fires began to blaze, the good 
 wine ascended from the cellar, a professed cook actually came over 
 from Guttlebury to compile culinary abominations. Stripes was 
 in a new coat, and so was Ponto, for a wonder, and Tummus's 
 button-suit was worn en permanence * 
 
 And all this to show off the little lord, thinks I. All this in 
 honour of a stupid little cigarrified Cornet of dragoons, who can 
 barely write his name, — while an eminent and profound moralist 
 like — somebody — is fobbed off with cold mutton and relays of pig. 
 Well, weU: a martyrdom 'of cold mutton is just bearable. I 
 pardon Mrs. Ponto, from my heart I do. especially as I wouldn't 
 turn out of the best bed-room, in spite of all her hints ; but held 
 my ground in the chintz tester, vowing that Lord Gules, as a 
 young man, was quite small and hardy enough to make himself 
 comfortable elsewhere. 
 
 The great Ponto party was a very august one. The Hawbucks 
 came in their family coach, with the blood-red hand emblazoned 
 aU. over it : and their man in yellow livery waited in country 
 fashion at table, only to be exceeded in splendour by the Hipsleys', 
 the opposition baronet, in light blue. The old Ladies Pitzague 
 drove over in their little old chariot with the fat black horses, the 
 fixt coachman, the fat footman — (why are dowagers' horses and 
 footmen always fat ?) And soon after these personages had 
 arrived, with their auburn fronts and red beaks and turbans, came 
 the Honourable and Kevereud Lionel Pettipois, who with General 
 and Mrs. Sago, formed the rest of the party. " Lord and Lady 
 Frederick Howlet were asked, but they have friends at Ivybush," 
 IMrs, Ponto told me ; and that very morning, the Castlehaggards 
 sent an excuse, as her ladyship had a return of the quinsy. 
 Between ourselves. Lady Castlehaggard's quinsy always comes 
 on when there is dinner at the Evergreens, 
 
 * I cauglit him in this costume, trying the flavoiir of the sauce of a 
 tipsy cake, vhich was made by !SIrs. Ponto's own hands for her guests' 
 delectation.
 
 ON SOJIE COUNTRY SNOBS, 111 
 
 If the keeping of polite company could make a woman bappj, 
 surely my kind hostess Mrs. Ponto was on. that day a happy 
 woman. Every person present (except the unlucky impostor wlio 
 pretended to a connexion with the Snobbingtou Family, and 
 General Sago, who had brought home I don't know how many 
 lacs of rupees from India,) was related to the Peerage or the 
 Baronetage. Mrs. P. had her heart's desire. If she had been 
 an Earl's daughter herself, could she have expected better com- 
 pany ? — and her family were in the oil-trade at Bristol, as all her 
 friends very well know. 
 
 "What I complained of in my heart was not the dining — which, 
 for this once, was plentiful and comfortable enough — but the pro- 
 digious dulness of the talking part of the entertainment. O, my 
 beloved brother Snobs of the City, if we love each other no 
 better than our country brethren, at least we amuse each other 
 more; if we bore ourselves, we are not called upon to go ten 
 miles to do it ! 
 
 For instance, the Hipsleys came ten miles from the south, and 
 the Hawbucks ten miles from the north, of the Evergreens ; and 
 were magnates in two different divisions of the County of Mangel- 
 wurzelshire. Hipsley, who is an old baronet, with a bothered 
 estate, did not care to show his contempt for Hawbuck, who is a 
 new creation, and rich. Hawbuck, on his part, gives himself 
 patronising airs to General Sago, who looks upon the Pontes as 
 little better than paupers. " Old Lady Blanche," says Ponto, 
 " I hope will leave something to her god-daughter — my second 
 girl — we've all of us halt-poisoned ourselves with taking her 
 physic." 
 
 Lady Blanche and Lady Eose Eitzague have, the first, a medical, 
 and the second a literary turn. I am inclined to believe the 
 former had a wet comi)resse around her body, on the occasion 
 when I had the happiness of meeting her. She doctors every- 
 body in the neighbourhood, of which she is the ornament ; and 
 has tried everything on her own person. She went into Court, 
 and testified publicly her faith in St. John Long : she swore by 
 Doctor Buchan, she took quantities of Gambouge's Universal 
 Medicine, and whole boxfulls of Parr's Life Pills. She has cured 
 a multiplicity of headaches by Squinstone's Eyesnuff ; she wears
 
 112 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 a picture of Hahuemanu in lier bracelet and a lock of Priessnitz's 
 hair in a brooch. She talked about her own complaints and those 
 of her confidante for the time being, to every lady iu the room 
 successively, from our hostess down to Miss Wirt, taking them 
 into corners, and whimpering about bronchitis, hepatitis, St. Vitus, 
 neuralgia, cephalalgia, and so forth. I observed poor fat Lady 
 Hawbuck in a dre.-idful alarm after some communication resfardiuof 
 the state of her daughter Miss Lucy Hawbuck's health, and Mrs. 
 Sago turn quite yellow, and put down her third glass of Madeira, 
 at a warning glance from Lady Blanche. 
 
 Lady Eose talked literature, and about the book-club at Guttle- 
 bury, and is very strong in voyages and travels. She has a pro- 
 digious interest in Borneo, and displayed a knowledge of the 
 history of the Punjaub and Kaffirland that does credit to her 
 memory. Old General >ago, who sat perfectly silent and plethoric, 
 roused up as from a lethargy when the former country was 
 mentioned, and gave the company his story about a hog-hunt at 
 Eamjugger. 1 ob.^^erved her ladyship treated with something like 
 contempt her neighbour the Eeverend Lionel Pettipois, a young 
 divine whom you may track through the country by little 
 " awakening " books at half-a-crown a hundred, which dribble out 
 of his pockets wherever he goes. I saw him give Miss Wirt a 
 sheaf of "The Little Wash.erwoman on Putney Common," and to 
 Miss Hawbuck a couple of dozen of " Meat in the Tray ; or the 
 Young Butcher-boy Eescued ; " and on paying a visit to Guttle- 
 bury gaol, I saw two notorious fellows waiting their trial there 
 (and temporarily occupied with a game of cribbage) to whom his 
 Eeverence offered a tract as he was walking over Crackshius 
 Common, and who robbed him of his purse, umbrella, and cambric 
 handkerchief, leaving him the tracts to distribute elsewhere.
 
 A VISIT TO SOi\IE COUNTRY SNOBS. 113 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A YISIT TO SOilE COUXTUY SXOBS. 
 
 " Why, dear Mr. Siiob," said a young lady of rank and fashion 
 (to whom I present my best compliments), " if you found every- 
 thing so snobbish at the Evergreens, if the pig bored you and the 
 mutton was not to your liking, and Mrs. Ponto was a humbug, 
 and Miss Wirt a nuisance, with her abominable piano practice, — 
 why did you stay so long ? " 
 
 Ah JMiss, what a question ! Have you never heard of gallant 
 British soldiers storming batteries, of doctors passing nights in 
 plague wards of lazarettos, and other instances of martyrdom ? 
 What do you suppose induced gentlemen to walk two miles up to 
 the batteries of Sobraon, with a hundred and fifty thundering 
 guns bowling them down by hundreds ? — not pleasure, surely. 
 What causes your respected father to quit his comfortable home 
 for his chambers, after dinner, and pore over the most dreary law 
 papers until long past midnight? Duty, Mademoiselle; duty, 
 whicli must be done alike by military, or legal, or literary gents. 
 There's a power of martyrdom in our profession. 
 
 You won't believe it ? Tour rosy lips assume a smile of incre- 
 dulity — a most naughty and odious expression in a young lady's 
 lace. AVell then, the fact is, that my chambers, JS^o. 24, Pump 
 Court, Temple, were being painted by the Honourable Society, 
 and Mrs. Slamkin, my laundress, having occasion to go into 
 Durham to see her daughter, who is married, and has presented 
 her with the sweetest little grandson — a i'ew weeks could not be 
 better spent than in rusticating. But ah, how delightful Pump 
 Court looked when I revisited its well-known chimney-pots ! Cari 
 luogi. Welcome, welcome, O fog and smut ! 
 
 But if you think there is no moral in the foregoing account of 
 the Pontine family, you are. Madam, most painfully mistaken. 
 In this very chapter we are going to have the monil — wliy, the 
 whole of the papers are nothing but the moral, setting forth as 
 they do the folly of being a Snob. 
 
 You Avill remark that iu the Country Suobography my poor
 
 114 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 friend Ponto lias been held up almost exclusively for the public 
 gaze — and why ? Because we went to no other house ? Because 
 other families did not welcome us to their mahogany ? No, no. 
 Sir John Hawbuck of the Haws, Sir John Hipsley of Briary 
 Hall, don't shut the gates of hospitality : of General Sago's 
 Mulligatawny I could speak from experience. And the two old 
 ladies at Guttlebury, were they nothing ? Do you suppose that 
 an agreeable young dog who shall be nameless, would not be made 
 welcome ? Don't you know that people are too glad to see 
 anybody in the country ? 
 
 But those dignified personages do not enter into the scheme of 
 the present work, and are but minor characters of our Snob 
 drama ; just as, in the play, kings and emperors are not half so 
 important as many humble persons. The Doge of Venice, for 
 instance, gives way to OtJiello, who is but a nigger ; and the Kinrj 
 of France to Falconhridge, who is a gentleman of positively no 
 birth at all. So with the exalted characters above mentioned. I 
 perfectly well recollect that the claret at Hawbuck's was not by 
 any means so good as that of Hipsley's, while, on the contrary, 
 some white hermitage at the Haws (by the way, the butler only 
 gave me half a glass each time) was supernacular. And I remem- 
 ber the conversations. Oh, Madam, Madam, how stupid they 
 were! The sub-soil ploughing; the pheasants and poaching; 
 the row about the representation of the county ; the Earl of 
 Mangelwurzelshire being at variance with his relative and 
 nominee, the Honourable Marmaduke Tomnoddy ; aU these I 
 could put down, had I a mind to violate the confidence of 
 private life ; and a great deal of conversation about the weather, 
 the Mangelwurzelshire Hunt, new manures, and eating and 
 drinking, of course. 
 
 But cui lono ? In these perfectly stupid and honourable 
 families there is not that Snobbishness wliicli it is our purpose to 
 expose. An ox is an ox — a great, hulking, fat-sided, bellowing, 
 munching Beef. He ruminates according to his nature, and con- 
 sumes his destined portion of turnips or oilcake, until the time 
 comes for his disappearance from the pastures, to be succeeded by 
 other decp-lunged and fat-ribbed animals. Perhaps we do not 
 respect an ox. "We rather acquiesce in him. The Snob, my dear
 
 A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS. 115 
 
 Madam, is the Frog that tries to sv.-ell himself to ox size. Let 
 us pelt the silly brute out of his folly. 
 
 Look, I pray you, at the case of my unfortunate friend Ponto, a 
 good-natured, kindly English gentleman — not over-wise, but quite 
 passable — fond of port-wine, of his family, of country sports and 
 agriculture, hospitably minded, with as pretty a little patrimonial 
 country house as heart can desire, and a thousand pounds a-year. 
 It is not much ; but entre nous, people can live for less, and not 
 uncomfortably. 
 
 For instance, there is the Doctor, whom Mrs. P. does not con- 
 descend to visit : that man educates a mirific family, and is loved 
 by the poor for miles round : and gives them port-wine for physic 
 and medicine, gratis. And how those people can get on with 
 their pittance, as Mrs. Ponto says, is a wonder to her. 
 
 Again, there is the Clergyman, Doctor Chrysostom, — Mrs. P. 
 says they quarrelled about Puseyism, but I am given to under-" 
 stand it was because Mrs. C. had the pas of her at the Haws — 
 you may see what the value of his living is any day in the Clerical 
 Guide ; but you don't know what he gives away. 
 
 Even Pettipois allows that, in whose eyes the Doctor's surplice 
 is a scarlet abomination ; and so does Pettipois do his duty in his 
 way, and administer not only his tracts and his talk, but his 
 money and his means to his people. As a lord's son, by the way, 
 Mrs. Ponto is uncommonly anxious that he should marry either 
 of the girls whom Lord Gules does not intend to choose. 
 
 Well, although Pon.'s income would make up almost as much as 
 that of these three worthies put together — my dear Madam, 
 see in what hopeless penury the poor fellow lives ! "What tenant 
 can look to his forbearance ? "What poor man can hope for his 
 charity? "Master's the best of men," honest Stripe says, "and 
 when we was in the ridgment, a more free-handed chap didn't 
 live. But the way in which Missus du scryou, I wonder the 
 young ladies is alive, that I du." 
 
 They live upon a fine governess and fine masters, and have 
 clothes made by Lady Carabas's own milliner ; and their brotlier 
 rides with earls to cover ; and only the best people in the 
 country visit at the Evergreens, and IMrs. Ponto thinks herself 
 a paragon of wives and mothers, and a wonder of the world, 
 
 I 2
 
 116 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 for doing all tliis misery and humbug, and suobbisliness, ou a 
 thousand a-year. 
 
 AV^hat an inexpressible comfort it was, my dear Madam, when 
 Stripes put my portmanteau in the four-wheeled chaise, and (poor 
 Pou. being touched with sciatica) drove me over to the Carabas 
 Arms at Guttlebury, where we took leave. There were some 
 bagmen there, in the Commercial Eoom, and one talked about the 
 house he represented ; and another about his dinner, and a third 
 about the Inns on the road, and so forth — a talk, not very wise, 
 but honest and to the purpose — about as good as that of the 
 country gentlemen : and Oh, how much pleasanter than listening 
 to Miss Wirt's show-pieces on the piano, and Mrs. Ponto's 
 genteel cackle about the fashion and the county families ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 SNOBBIUM GATHEEUM. 
 
 "When I see the great effect which these papers are producing 
 in an intelligent public, I have a strong hope, that before long we 
 shall have a regular Snob-department in the newspapers, just as 
 we have the Police Courts and the Court News at present. 
 "When a flagrant case of bone-crushing or poor-law abuse occurs 
 in the Avorld, who so eloquent as the Times to point it out ? 
 "When a gross instance of Snobbishness happens, why should not 
 the indignant journalist call the public attention to that delin- 
 quency too ? 
 
 How, for instance, could that wonderful case of the Earl of 
 Mangelwurzel and his brother be examined in the Snobbish point 
 of view ? Let alone the hectoring, the bullying, the vapouring, 
 the bad grammar, tlie mutual recriminations, lie-givings, chal- 
 lenges, retractions, which abound in the fraternal dispute — put 
 out of the question these points as concerning the individual 
 nobleman and his relative, with whose personal aftairs we have 
 nothing to do — and consider how intimately corrupt, how habitually 
 .grovelling and mean, how entirely Snobbish in a word, a whole 
 count}' must be which can find no better chiefs or leaders than
 
 SNOBBIUM GATHERUM. 117 
 
 tliese two gentlemen. "We don't want," tlie great county of 
 Mangelwurzelshire seems to say, " that a man should be able to 
 write good grammar; or that he should keep a Christian tongue 
 in his head ; or that he should have the commonest decency of 
 temper, or even a fair share of good sense, in order to represent 
 us in Parliament. All we require is, that a man should be recom- 
 mended to us by the Earl of Mangelwurzelshire. And all that we 
 require of the Earl of Mangelwurzelshire is that he should have 
 fifty thousand a-year and hunt the country." O you pride of all 
 Suobland ! you crawling, truckling, self-confessed lackeys and 
 parasites ! 
 
 But this is growing too savage : don't let us forget our usual 
 amenity and that tone of playfulness and sentiment with which 
 the beloved reader and writer have pursued their mutual reflec- 
 tions hitherto. Well, Snobbishness pervades the little Social 
 Farce as well as the great State Comedy ; and the self-same moral 
 is tacked to either. 
 
 There was, for instance, an account in the papers of a young 
 lady who, misled by a fortune-teller, actually went part of the way 
 to India (as far as Bagnigge Wells, I think) in search of a husband 
 who was promised her there. Do you suppose this poor deluded 
 little soul would have left her shop for a man below her in rank, 
 or for anything but a darling of a Captain in epaulets and a red 
 coat ? It was her Snobbish sentiment that misled her, and made 
 bar vanities a prey to the swindling fortune-teller. 
 
 Case 2 was that of Mademoiselle de Saugrenue " the interesting 
 young Frenchwoman with a profusion of jetty ringlets," who lived 
 for nothing at a boarding-house at Gosport, was then conveyed to 
 Eareham gratis : and being there, and lying on the bed of the good 
 old lady her entertainer, the dear girl took occasion to rip open the 
 mattress, and steal a cash-box, with which she fled to London. 
 How would you account for the prodigious benevolence exercised 
 towards the interesting young French lady ? Was it her jetty 
 ringlets on her charming face — Bah ! Do ladies love others for 
 having pretty faces and black hair ? — she said she teas a relation of 
 Lord de Saugrenue : talked of her ladyship her aunt, and of herself 
 as a De Saugrenue. The honest boarding-house people were at her 
 feet at once. Good honest simple lord-loving children of Snobland.
 
 118 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 Finally, there -vras the case of " the Eight Honourable Mr. 
 Yernon," at York. The Eight Honourable was the son of a 
 nobleman, and practised on an old lady. He procured from her 
 dinners, money, wearing apparel, spoons, implicit credence, and an 
 entu'e refit of linen. Then he cast his nets over a family of father, 
 mother, and daughters, one of whom he proposed to marry. The 
 father lent him money, the mother made jams and pickles for him, 
 the daughters vied with each other in cooking dinners for the Eight 
 Honourable — and what was the end ? One day the traitor fled, 
 with a tea-pot and a basket-full of cold victuals. It was the " Eight 
 Honourable " which baited the hook which gorged all these greedy, 
 simple Snobs. "Would they have been taken in by a commoner ? 
 What old lady is there, my dear sir, who would take in you and me, 
 were we ever so ill to do, and comfort us, and clothe us, and give 
 us her money, and her silver forks ? Alas and alas ! what mortal 
 man that speaks the truth can hope for such a landlady ? And 
 yet, all these instances of fond and credulous Snobbishness have 
 occurred in the same week's paper, with who knows how many 
 score more ? 
 
 Just as we had concluded the above remarks comes a pretty 
 little note sealed with a pretty little butterfly — bearing a northern, 
 post-mark — and to the following efiect : — 
 
 ''Mr. Punch, " I9lh Novemler. 
 
 " Taking great interest in your Snob Papers, we are very 
 anxious to know under what class of that respectable fraternity 
 you would designate us. 
 
 " AYe are three sisters, from seventeen to twenty-two. Our 
 father is honestly and truly of a very good family (you will say it is 
 Snobbish to mention that, but I wish to state the plain fact) ; our 
 maternal grandfather was an Earl.* 
 
 " "We can afibrd to take in a stamped edition of ijou, and all 
 Dickens' works as fast as they come out, but we do not keep such 
 a thing as a Peerage or even a Baronetage in the house. 
 
 " "We live with every comfort, excellent cellar, &c., &e., but as 
 we cannot well afibrd a butler we have a neat table-maid (though 
 
 * The introduction of Grandpapa is, I fear, Snobbish.
 
 SNOBBIUM GATHERUM. 119 
 
 our father was a military man, lias travelled mucli, been in the 
 best society, &c.) We have a coachman and helper, but we don't 
 put the latter into buttons, nor make them wait at table, like 
 Stripes and Tummus.* 
 
 " We are just the same to persons with a handle to their name 
 as to those without it. AVe wear a moderate modicum of crinoline,t 
 and are never limp % in the morning. We have good and abundant 
 dinners on cJiina (though we have plate §), and just as good when 
 alone as with company. 
 
 "Now, my dear 3Ir. Punch, will you 2-)lease give us a short 
 answer in your next number, and I will be so much obliged to 
 you. Nobody knows we are writing to you, not even our father ; 
 nor will we ever tease [j you again if you will only give us an 
 answer — just for fun, now do ! 
 
 " If you get as far as this, whicli is doubtful, you will probably 
 fling it into the fire. If you do, I cannot help it ; but I am of a 
 sanguine disposition, and entertain a lingering hope. At all 
 events, I shall be impatient for next Sunday, for you reach us on 
 that day, and I am ashamed to confess, we cannot resist opening 
 you in the carriage driving home from church.^ 
 
 " I remain, &c. &c., for myself and sisters. 
 " Excuse this scrawl, but I always write headlong .""** 
 
 " P.S. Ton were rather stupid last week, don't you think ? ft 
 We keep no gamekeeper, and yet have always abundant game for 
 friends to shoot, in spite of the poachers. We never write on 
 perfumed paper — in sliort, I can't help thinking that if you knew 
 us you would not think us Snobs." 
 
 To this I reply in the fol]owi]ig manner : — " My dear young 
 
 * That is, as you like. I dou't object to buttons in moderation. 
 
 + Quite right. J Bless you ! 
 
 § Snobbish ; and I doubt whether you ought to dine as well when alone as with 
 company. You will be getting too good dinners. 
 
 II We like to be teased ; but tell Papa. 
 
 U 0, garters and stars ! what will Captain Gordon and Exeter Hall say to 
 this? 
 
 ** Dear little enthusiast ! 
 
 +t You were never more mistaken, I\Iiss, in your life.
 
 120 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 ladies, I know your post-town: and shall be at churcli there the 
 Sunday after next ; when, will you please to wear a tulip or some 
 little trifle in your bonnets, so that I may know you ? Tou will 
 recognise me and my dress — a quiet-looking young fellow, in a 
 white top coat, a crimson satin neckcloth, light blue trowsers, with 
 glossy tipped boots, and an emerald breast-pin. I shall have a 
 black crape round my white hat ; and my usual bamboo cane with 
 the richly-gilt knob. I am sorry there will be no time to get up 
 mustachioa between now and next week. 
 
 " From seventeen to two-and-twenty ! Te gods ! what ages ! 
 Dear young creatures, I can see you all three. Seventeen suits 
 me, as nearest my own time of life ; but mind, I don't say two- 
 and-twenty is too old. JN'o, no. And that pretty, roguish, 
 demure, middle one. Peace, peace, thou silly little fluttering 
 heart ! 
 
 " You Snobs, dear young ladies ! I will pull any man's nose 
 "who says so. There is no harm in being of a good family. You 
 can't help it, poor dears. "What's in a name ? "What is in a 
 handle to it ? I confess openly that I should not object to being 
 a Duke myself; and between ourselves you might see a worse leg 
 for a garter. 
 
 " Yoii, Snobs, dear little good-natured things, no ! — that is, I 
 hope not — I think not — I won't be too confident — none of us 
 should be — that we are not Snobs. That very confidence savours 
 of arrogance, and to be arrogant is to be a Snob. In all the 
 social gradations from sneak to tyrant, nature has placed a most 
 wondrous and various progeny of Snobs. But are there no kindly 
 natures, no tender hearts, no souls humble, simple, and truth- 
 loviug ? Ponder well on this question, sweet young ladies. And 
 if you can answer it, as no doubt you can — lucky are you — 
 and lucky the respected Herr Papa, and lucky the three hand- 
 some young gentlemen who are about to become each others' 
 brothers-in-law."
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 121 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 SNOBS AND MAERIAGE. 
 
 EvEBTBODT of the middle rank who walks through this life 
 with a sympathy for his companions on the same journey — at any 
 rate, every man who lias been jostling in the world for some three 
 or four lustres — must make no end of melancholy reflections upon 
 the fate of those victims whom Society, that is. Snobbishness, is 
 immolating eveiy day. With love and simplicity and natural 
 kindness Snobbishness is perpetually at war. People dare nut be 
 happy for fear of Snobs. People dare not love for fear of Snobs. 
 People pine away lonely under the tyranny of Snobs. Honest 
 kindly hearts dry up and die. Gallant generous lads, blooming 
 with hearty youth, swell into bloated old-bachelorhood, and burst 
 and tumble over. Tender girls wither into shrunken decay, and 
 perish solitary, from whom Snobbishness has cut off the common 
 claim to happiness and aflfection with which Nature endowed us 
 all. My heart grows sad as I see the blundering tyrant's handy- 
 work. As I behold it I swell with cheap rage, and glow with fury 
 against the Snob. Come down, I say, thou skulking dulness. 
 Come down, thou stupid bully, and give up thy brutal ghost! 
 And I arm myself with the sword and spear, and taking leave of 
 my family, go forth to do battle with that hideous ogre and giant, 
 that brutal despot in Snob Castle, who holds so many gentle hearts 
 in torture and thrall. 
 
 "When Punch is king, I declare there shall be no such thing as 
 old maids and old bachelors. The Peverend Mr. Malthus shall be 
 burned annually, instead of Guy Fawkes. Those who don't marry 
 shall go into the workhouse. It shall be a sin for the poorest not 
 to have a pretty girl to love him. 
 
 The above reflections came to mind after taking a walk with an 
 old comrade, Jack Spiggot by name, who is just passing into the 
 state of old bachelorhood, after the manly and blooming youth in 
 ■which I remember him. Jack was one of the handsomest fellows in 
 England when we entered together in tlie Highland Buffs ; but I 
 quitted the Cuttykilts early, and lost sight of him for many years.
 
 122 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 All ! how changed he is from those days ! He wears a waistband 
 now, and has begun to dye his whiskers. His cheeks, which were 
 red, are now mottled ; his eyes, once so bright and stedfast, are the 
 <?olour of peeled plover's eggs. 
 
 "Are you married. Jack?" says I, remembering how con- 
 sumedly in love he was with his cousin Letty Lovelace, when the 
 Cuttykilts were quartered at Strathbungo some twenty years ago. 
 
 " Married ? no," says he. " Not money enough. Hard enough 
 to keep myself, much more a family, on five hundred a-year. 
 Come to Dickinson's; there's some of the best Madeira in London 
 there, my boy." So we went and talked over old times. The bill 
 for dinner and wine consumed was prodigious, and the quantity of 
 brandy-and-water that Jack took showed what a regular boozer he 
 was. " A guinea or two guineas. "What the devil do I care what 
 I spend for my dinner ?" says he. 
 
 " And Letty Lovelace ? " says I. 
 
 Jack's countenance fell. However, he burst into a loud laugh 
 presently. " Letty Lovelace ! " says he. " She's Letty Lovelace 
 still ; but Gad, such a wizened old woman ! She's as thin as a 
 thread-paper; (you remember what a figure she had) : her nose has 
 got red, and her teeth blue. She's always ill ; always quarrelling 
 with the rest of the family ; always psalm-siugiug, and always 
 taking pills. Gad, I had a rare escape there. Push round the 
 grog, old boy." 
 
 Straightway memory went back to the days when Letty was 
 the loveliest of blooming young creatures : when to hear her sing 
 was to make the heart jump into your throat ; when to see her 
 dance, was better than Montessu or Noblet (they were the Ballet 
 Queens of those days) ; when Jack used to wear a locket of her 
 hair, with a little gold chain round his neck, and, exhilarated with 
 toddy, after a sederunt of the Cuttykilt mess, used to pull out this 
 token, and kiss it, and howl about it, to the great amusement of 
 the bottle-nosed old Major and the rest of the table. 
 
 " ]My father and hers couldn't put their horses together," Jack 
 said. "The General wouldn't come down with more than six 
 thousand. My Governor said it shouldn't be done under eight. 
 Lovelace told him to go and be hanged, and so we parted com- 
 pany. They said she was in a decline. Gammon ! She's forty,
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 123 
 
 and as tougli and as sour as this bit of lemon peel. Don't put 
 mucli into your punch, Snob, my boy. Ko man can stand punch 
 after ■wine." 
 
 " And what are your pursuits, Jack ?" says I. 
 
 " Sold out when the Governor died. Mother lives at Bath. 
 Go down there once a-year for a week. Dreadful slow. Shilling 
 whist. Four sisters — all unmarried except the youngest — awful 
 work. Scotland in August. Italy in the winter ; cursed rheu- 
 matism. Come to London in March, and toddle about at the 
 Club, old boy ; and we won't go home till maw-aw-rning till 
 daylight does appear." 
 
 ."And here's the wreck of two lives!" mused the present 
 Snobographer, after taking leave of Jack Spiggot. " Pretty merry 
 Letty Lovelace's rudder lost and she cast away, and handsome 
 Jack Spiggot stranded on the shore like a drunken Trinculo." 
 
 What was it that insulted Nature (to use no higher name), and 
 perverted her kindly intentions towards them ? "What cursed 
 frost was it that nipped the love that both were bearing, and 
 condemned the girl to sour sterility, and the lad to selfish old- 
 bachelorhood ? It was the infernal Snob tyrant who governs us 
 sill, who says, " Thou shalt not love without a lady's-maid ; thou 
 shalt not marry without a carriage and horses ; thou shalt have no 
 wife in thy heart, and no children on thy knee, without a page in 
 buttons and a French honne ; thou shalt go to the devil unless 
 thou hast a Brougham ; marry poor, and society shall forsake 
 thee ; thy kinsmen shall avoid thee as a criminal ; thy aunts and 
 uncles shall turn up their eyes and bemoan the sad, sad manner 
 in which Tom or Harry has thrown himself away." You, young 
 woman, may sell yourself without shame, and marry old Croesus ; 
 you, young man, may lie away your heart and your life for a 
 jointure. But if you are poor, wo be to you ! Society, the brutal 
 Snob autocrat, consigns you to solitary perdition. Wither, poor 
 girl, in your garret : rot, poor bachelor, in your Club. 
 
 When I see those graceless recluses — those unnatural monks 
 and nuns of the order of St. Beelzebub,* my hatred for Snobs and 
 
 * This, of course, is understood to apply only to those unmarried persons 
 ■wliom a mean and Snobbish fear about money has kept from fulfilling their 
 natural destiny. Many persons there are devoted to celibacy bectiuse they cannot
 
 124 THE BOOK OF SXOBS. 
 
 their worsliip, and their idols, passes all continence. Let us hew 
 down that man-eating Juggernaut, I say, tliat hideous Dagon ; 
 and I glow with the heroic courage of Tom Thumb, and join battle 
 with the jriant Snob. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 SXOCS ASD MAEKIAGE, 
 
 In tliat noble romance called Ten TJiousand a Yea?', I remember 
 a profouudly pathetic description of the Chi-istian manner in which 
 the hei'o, Mr. Aubrey, bore his misfortunes. After making a display 
 of the most florid and grandiloquent resignation, and quitting his 
 country mansion, the writer supposes Aubrey to come to town in 
 a post-chaise and pair sitting bodkin probably between his wife 
 and sister. It is about seven o'clock, carriages are rattling about, 
 knockers are thundering, and tears bedim the fine eyes of Kate 
 and Mrs. Aubrey as they think that in happier times at this hour 
 — their Aubrey used formerly to go out to dinner to the houses 
 of the aristocracy his friends. This is the gist of the passage 
 — the elegant words I forget. But the noble, noble sentiment I 
 shall always cherish and remember. "What can be more sublime 
 than the notion of a great man's relatives in tears about — his 
 dinner ? AVith a few touches, what author ever more happily- 
 described A Snob ? 
 
 "We were reading the passage lately at the house of my friend, 
 Eaymond Gray, Esquire, Barrister-at-Law, an ingenuous youth 
 without tlie least practice, but who has luckily a great share of 
 good spirits, which enables him to bide his time, and bear laugh- 
 ingly his humble position in the world. Meanwhile, until it is 
 altered, the stern laws of necessity and the expenses of the 
 jS'orthern Circuit oblige Mr. Gray to live in a very tiny man- 
 sion in a very queer small square in the airy neighbourhood of 
 Gray's Inn. 
 
 help it. Of these a man would be a brute who spoke roughly. Imleed, after Miss 
 O'Toole's conduct to the writer, he would be the last to condemn. But never 
 mind, these are personal matters.
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 125 
 
 "What is the more remarkable, is, that Gray lias a wife there. 
 Mrs. Gray was a Miss Harley Baker : and I suppose I need not 
 say that is a respectable family. Allied to the Cavendishes, the 
 Oxfords, the Marrybones, they still, though rather dechus from 
 their original splendour, hold their heads as high as any. Mrs. 
 Harley Baker, I know, never goes to church without John behind 
 to carry her prayer-book ; nor will Miss Welbeck, her sister, walk 
 twenty yards a shoppiug without the protection of I'^igby, her 
 sugar-loaf page ; though the old lady is as ugly as any woman in 
 the parish, and as tall and whiskery as a Grenadier. Tlie asto- 
 nishment is, how Emily Harley Baker could have stooped to marry 
 Raymond Gray. She, who was the prettiest and proudest of the 
 family ; she, who refused Sir Cockle Byles, of the Bengal Service ; 
 she, who turned up her little nose at Essex Temple, Q.C, and 
 connected with the noble house of Albyn ; she, who had but 4000/. 
 pour tout potage, to marry a man who had scarcely as much more. 
 A scream of wrath and indignation was uttered by the whole 
 family when they heard of this mesalliance. ]\Irs. Harley Baker 
 never speaks of her daughter now but with tears in her eyes, and 
 as a ruined creature. Miss Welbeck says, " I consider that man a 
 villain ; " and has denounced poor good-natured Mrs. Perkins 
 as a swindler, at whose ball the young people met for the first 
 time. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs Gray, meanwhile, live in Gray's Inn Lane, afore- 
 said, with a maid-servant and a nurse, whose hands are very full, 
 and in a most provoking and unnatural state of happiness. They 
 have never once thought of crying about their dinner, like the 
 wretchedly puling and Snobbish womankind of my favourite 
 Snob Aubrey, of Ten Thousand a Year ; but on the contrary, 
 accept such humble victuals as Fate awards them with a most 
 perfect and thankful good grace — nay, actually have a portion 
 for a hungry friend at times — as the present writer can grate- 
 fully testify. 
 
 I was mentioning these dinners, and some admirable lemon 
 puddings which Mrs. Gray makes, to our mutuid friend the great 
 Mr. Goldmore, the East India Director, when that gentleman's 
 face assumed an expression of almost apoplectic terror, and he 
 gasped out, " What ! Do they give dinners ? " He seemed to
 
 12(5 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 think it a crime and a wonder that such people should dine at 
 all, and that it was their custom to huddle round their kitchen 
 fire over a bone and a crust. Whenever he meets them in society, 
 it is a matter of wonder to him (and he always expresses his sur- 
 prise very loud) how the lady can appear decently dressed, and 
 the man have an unpatched coat to his back. I have heard him 
 enlarge upon this poverty before the whole room at the Con- 
 flagrative Club, to which he and I and Gray have the honour 
 to belong. 
 
 AYe meet at the Club on most days. At half-past four, Gold- 
 more arrives in St. James's Street, from the City, and you may 
 see him reading the evening papers in the bow window of the 
 Club which enfilades Pall Mall — a large plethoric man, with a 
 bunch of seals in a large bow-windowed light waistcoat. He has 
 large coat-tails, stuffed with agents' letters and papers about 
 companies of which he is a Director. His seals jingle as he 
 walks. I wish I had such a man for an uncle, and that he him- 
 self were childless. I would love and cherish him, and be kind 
 to him. 
 
 At six o'clock in the full season, when all the world is in St. 
 James's Street, and the carriages are cutting in and out among 
 the cabs on the stand, and the tufted dandies are showing their 
 listless faces out of White's ; and you see respectable grey-headed 
 gentlemen waggling their heads to each other through the plate- 
 glass windows of Arthur's : and the red-coats wish to be Briarean, 
 so as to hold all the gentlemen's horses ; and that wonderfid red- 
 coated royal porter is sunning himself before Marlborough House; 
 — at the noon of London time, you see a light-yellow carriage 
 with black horses, and a coachman in a tight floss-silk wig, and 
 two footmen in powder and white and yellow liveries, and a large 
 woman inside in shot silk, a poodle, and a pink parasol, which 
 drives up to the gate of the Couflagrative, and the page goes and 
 .says to Mr. Goldmore (who is perfectly aware of the fact, as he 
 is looking out of the windows with about forty other Couflagrative 
 bucks) " Your carriage, Sir." G. wags his head. " Remember, 
 eight o'clock precisely," says he to Mulligatawney, the other East 
 India Director, and ascending the carriage plumps down by the 
 side of ^Irs. Goldmore for a drive in the Parle, and then home to
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 127 
 
 Portland Place. As the carriage whirls off, all the young bucks 
 iu the Club feel a secret elation. It is a part of tlieir establish- 
 ment, as it were. That carriage belongs to their Club, and their 
 Club belongs to them. They follow tlie equipage with interest ; 
 they eye it knowingly as they see it in the Park. But halt I 
 we are not come to the Club Snobs yet. O my brave Snobs, what 
 a flurry there will be among you when those papers appear! 
 
 "Well, you may judge, from the above description, what sort of 
 a man Goldmore is. A dull and pompous Leadenhall Street 
 Croesus, good-natured withal, and affable — cruelly affable. " Mr. 
 Goldmore can never forget," his lady used to say, " that it was 
 Mrs. Gray's grandfather who sent him to India ; and though that 
 young woman has made the most imprudent marriage in the world, 
 and has left her station in society, her husband seems an ingenious 
 and laborious young man, and we shall do everything in our power 
 to be of use to him." So they used to ask the Grays to dinner 
 twice or thrice in a season, when, by way of iucreasiug the kind- 
 ness, Buff, the butler, is ordered to hire a fly to convey them to 
 and from Portland Place. 
 
 Of course I am much too good-natured a friend of both parties 
 not to tell Gray of Goldmore's opinion regarding him, and the 
 Nabob's astonishment at the idea of the briefless barrister having 
 any dinner at all. Indeed, Goldmore's saying became a joke 
 against Gray amongst us wags at the Club, and we used to ask 
 him when he tasted meat last ? whether we should bring him home 
 something from dinner ? and cut a thousand other mad pranks 
 with him iu our facetious way. 
 
 One day, then, coming home from the Club, Mr. Gray con- 
 veyed to his wife the astounding information that he had asked 
 Goldmore to diimer. 
 
 " My love," says Mrs. Gray, in a tremor, " how could you be so 
 cruel ? Why, the dining-room won't hold Mrs. Goldmore." 
 
 " Make your miud easy, Mrs. Gray ; her ladyship is iu Paris. 
 It is only Croesus tluit's coming, and we are going to the play 
 afterwards — to Sadler's Wells. Goldmore said at the Club that 
 be thought Shakspeare was a great dramatic poet, and ought to 
 he patronised ; whereupon, fired with enthusiasm, I invited him to 
 our banquet."
 
 128 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! what can we jjive liim for dinner ? He 
 lias two Frencli cooks ; you know Mrs. Goldmore is always telling 
 us about them ; and he dines with Aldermen every day." 
 
 " ' A plain leg of mutton, my Lucy, 
 I prytliee get ready at three ; 
 Have it tender, and smoking, and juicy, 
 And what better meat can there he V " 
 
 says Gray, quoting my favourite poet. 
 
 " But tlie cook is ill ; and you know that horrible Pattypan, the 
 pastrycook's." * * 
 
 " Silence, Fran ! " says Gray, in a deep-tragedy voice. " / will 
 have the ordering of this repast. Do all things as I bid thee. 
 Invite our friend Snob here to partake of the feast. Be mine the 
 task of procuring it." 
 
 "Don't be expensive, Eaymond," says his wife. 
 
 " Peace, thou timid partner of the briefless one. Goldmore's 
 dinner shall be suited to our narrow means. Only do thou in all 
 things my commands." And seeing by the peculiar expression of 
 the rogue's countenance, that some mad waggery was in prepara- 
 tion, 1 awaited the morrow with auxietv. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 SXOCS AKD MABEIAGE. 
 
 Punctual to tlie hour — (By the way, I cannot omit here to 
 mark down my hatred, scorn and indignation, towards those 
 miserable Snobs who come to dinner at nine, when they are asked 
 at eight, in order to make a sensation in the company. May the 
 loathing of honest folks, the back-biting of others, the curses of 
 cooks, pursue these wretches, and avenge the society on which 
 they trample!) — Punctual, I say, to tlie hour of five, which Mr. 
 and Mrs. Payinond Gray had appointed, a youth of an elegant 
 appearance, in a neat evening dress, wliot^e trim whiskers indicated 
 neatness, whose light step denoted activity (for in sooth he was 
 hungry, and always is at the dinner hour, whatsoever that hour
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 129 
 
 may be), and whose rich golden hair, curling down his shoulders, 
 was set off by a perfectly new four-and-ninepenny silk hat, was 
 seen wending his way down Bittlestone Street, Bittlestone Square, 
 Gray's Inn. The person in question, I need not say, was Mr. 
 Snob. He is never late when invited to dine. But to proceed 
 with my narrative : — 
 
 Although Mr. Snob may have flattered himself that he made a 
 sensation as he strutted down Bittlestone Street with his richly 
 gilt-knobbed cane (and indeed I vow I saw heads looking at me 
 from Miss Squilsby's, the brass-plated milliner opposite Kaymond 
 Grays, who has three silver-paper bonnets, and two fly-blown 
 Prench prints of fashion in the window), yet what was the emotion 
 produced by my arrival, compared to that with which the little 
 street thrilled, when at five minutes past five the floss-wigged 
 coachman, the yellow hammer-cloth and flunkies, the black horses 
 and blazing silver harness of Mr. Goldmore whirled down the 
 street ! It is a very little street, of very little houses, most of 
 them with very large brass plates like Miss Sqnilsby's. Coal- 
 merchants, architects, and surveyors, two surgeons, a solicitor, a 
 dancing-master, and of course several house-agents, occupy the 
 houses — little two-storied edifices with little stucco porticos. 
 Goldmore's carriage overtopped the roofs almost ; the first floors 
 might shake hands with Croesus as he lolled inside; all the windows 
 of those first floors thronged with children and women in a 
 twinkling. There was Mrs. Hammerly in curl-papers ; Mrs. Saxby 
 with her front awry; Mr. "Wriggles peering through the gauze 
 curtains, holding the while his hot glass of rum-and-water — in 
 fine, a tremendous commotion in Bittlestone Street, as the 
 Goldmore carriage drove up to Mr. Eaymond Gray's door. 
 
 " How kind it is of him to come with both the footmen ! " says 
 little Mrs. Gray, peeping at the vehicle too. The huge domestic, 
 descending from his perch, gave a rap at the door which almost 
 drove in the building. All the heads were out; the sun was 
 shining ; the very organ-boy paused ; the footman, the coach, and 
 Goldmore's red face and white waistcoat were blazing in splendour. 
 The herculean plushed one went back to open the carriage-door. 
 
 Eaymond Gray opened his — in his shirt-sleeves. 
 
 He ran up to the carriage. " Come in, Goldmore," says he.
 
 130 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 " Just in time, my boy. Opeu tlie door "Whatdyecallum, and let 
 your master out," — and Whatdyecallum obeyed mechanically, 
 with a face of wonder and horror, only to be equalled by the look 
 of stupified astonishment which ornamented the purple counte- 
 nance of his master. 
 
 " Wawt taim will you please have the cage, Sir," says Wliatdye- 
 callum, in that peculiar, unspellable, inimitable, flunkyfied, pro- 
 nunciation which forms one of the chief charms of existence. 
 
 " Best have it to the theatre, at night," Gray exclaims ; " it is 
 bat a step from here to the Wells, and we can walk there. I've 
 got tickets for all. Be at Sadler's Wells at eleven." 
 
 " Yes, at eleven," exclaims Goldmore, perturbedly, and walks 
 with a flurried step into the house, as if he were going to execu- 
 tion (as indeed he was, with that wicked Gray as a Jack Ketch 
 over him). The carriage drove away, followed by numberless eyes 
 from doorsteps and balconies ; its appearance is still a wonder in 
 Bittlestone Street. 
 
 " Go in tliere, and amuse yourself with Snob," says Gray, 
 opening the little drawing-room door. " I'll call out as soon as 
 the chops are ready. Fanny's below, seeing to the pudding." 
 
 " Gracious mercy! " says Goldmore to me, quite confidentially, 
 " How could he ask us ? I really had no idea of this — this utter 
 destitution." 
 
 "Dinner, dinner!" roars out Gray, from the dining-room, 
 whence issued a great smoking and frying ; and entering that 
 apartment we find Mrs. Gray ready to receive us, and looking 
 perfectly like a Princess who, by some accident, had a bowl of 
 potatoes in her hand, which vegetables she placed on the table. 
 Her husband was meanwhile cooking mutton-chops on a gridiron 
 over the fire. 
 
 "Fanny has made the roly-poly pudding," says he ; "the chops 
 are my part. Here's a fine one; try this, Goldmore." And he 
 popped a fizzing cutlet on that gentleaian's plate. What words, 
 what notes of exclamation can describe the nabob's astonish- 
 ment? 
 
 The table-cloth was a very old one, darned in a score of places. 
 There was mustard in a tea- cup, a silver fork for Goldmore — all 
 our,-" were iron.
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 131 
 
 " I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth," says Gray, 
 gravely. "That fork is the only one we have. Fanny has it 
 generally." 
 
 " Raymond ! " cries Mrs. Gray, in an imploring face. 
 " She was used to better things, you know : and I hope one day 
 to get her a dinner service. I'm told the electro-plate is uncom- 
 monly good. Where the deuce is that boy with the beer ? And 
 now," said he, springing up, "I'll be a gentleman." And so he 
 put on his coat, and sate down quite gravely, with four fresh 
 mutton chops which he had by this time broiled. 
 
 " We don't have meat every day, Mr. Goldmore," he continued, 
 " and it's a treat to me to get a dinner like this. Tou little know, 
 you gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease, what hard- 
 ships briefless barristers endure." 
 
 " Gracious mercy ! " says Mr. Goldmore. 
 
 " Where's the half-and-half ? Fanny, go over to the ' Keys' 
 and get the beer. Here's sixpence." And what was our astonish- 
 ment when Fanny got up as if to go ! 
 
 "Gracious mercy! let me," cries Goldmore. 
 " Not for worlds, my dear sir. She's used to it. They wouldn't 
 serve you as well as they serve her. Leave her alone. Law bless 
 you ! " Raymond said, with astounding composure. And IMrs. 
 Gray left the room, and actually came back with a tray on which 
 there was a pewter flagon of beer. Little Polly (to whom, at her 
 christening, I had the honour of presenting a silver mug, ex-oJp.cid), 
 followed with a couple of tobacco pipes, and the queerest roguish 
 look in her round little chubby face. 
 
 " Did you speak to Tapling about the gin, Fanny, my dear ? " 
 Gray asked, after bidding Polly put the pipes on the chimney- 
 piece, which that little person had some difliculty in reaching — 
 " The last was turpentine, and even your brewing didn't make 
 good punch of it." 
 
 " You would hardly suspect, Goldmore, that my wife, a Harley 
 Baker, would ever make gin punch ? I think my mother-in-law 
 would commit suicide if she saw her." 
 
 "Don't be always laughing at Mamma, Raymond," says Mrs. 
 Gray. 
 " Well, well, she wouldn't die, and I donH wish she would. And 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 you don't make gin punch, and you don't like it eitlier — and — 
 Goldmore, do you drink your beer out of the glass, or out of the 
 pewter ? " 
 
 " Gracious mercy ! " ejaculates Croesus once more, as little 
 Polly, taking the pot with both her little bunches of hands, ofters 
 it smiling, to that astonished Director. 
 
 And so, in a word, the dinner commenced, and was presently 
 ended in a similar fashion. Gray pursued his unfortunate guest 
 ■with the most queer and outrageous description of his struggles, 
 misery, and poverty. He described how he cleaned the knives when 
 they were first married ; and how he used to drag the children in 
 a little cart ; how his wife could toss pancakes ; and what parts of 
 his dress she made. He told Tibbits, his clerk (who was in fact 
 the functionary who had brought the beer from the public house, 
 which Mrs. Fanny had fetched from the neighbouring apartment) 
 — to fetch " the bottle of port wine," when the dinner was over ; 
 and told Goldmore as wonderful a history about the way in which 
 that bottle of wine had come into his hands, as any of his former 
 stories had been. When the repast was all over, and it was near 
 time to move to the play, and Mrs. Gray had retired, and we were 
 sitting ruminating rather silently over the last glasses of the port, 
 Gray suddenly breaks the silence by slapping Goldmore on the 
 shoulder, and saying, " Now, Goldmore, tell me something." 
 
 " What ?" asks Croesus. 
 
 " Haven't you had a good dinner ? " 
 
 Goldmore started, as if a sudden truth had just dawned upon 
 him. He liad had a good dinner; and didn't know it until then. 
 The threi? mutton-chops consumed by him were best of the mutton 
 kind ; the potatoes w ere perfect of their order ; as for the roly- 
 poly, it was too good. The porter was frothy and cool, and the 
 port wine was worthy of the gills of a bishop. I speak with 
 ulterior views ; for there is more iu Gray's cellar. 
 
 " "Well," says Goldmore, after a pause, during which he took 
 time to consider the momentous question Gray put to him — " 'Pon 
 my word — now you say so — I — I have — I really have had a mon- 
 sous good dinnah — monsous good, upon my ward ! Here's your 
 health. Gray, my boy, and your amiable lady; and when Mrs. 
 Goldmore comes back, I hope we shall see you more in Portland
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 133 
 
 Place." Aud •with this tlie time came for the play, and we went 
 to see Mr. Phelps at Sadler's Wells. 
 
 The best of this story (for the truth of every word of which I 
 pledge my honour) is, that after this bauquet, which Goldmore 
 enjoyed so, the honest fellow felt a prodigious compassion and 
 regard for the starving and miserable giver of the feast, aud 
 determined to help him in his profession. And being a Director 
 of the newly established Antibilious Life Assurance Company, he 
 has had Gray appointed Standing Counsel, with a pretty annual 
 fee ; and only yesterday, in an appeal from Bombay (Buckmuckjee 
 Bobbachee v. Eaihchowder-Bahawder) in the Privy Council, Lord 
 Brougham complimented Mr. Gray, who was in the case, on his 
 curious and exact knowledge of the Sanscrit language. 
 
 Whether he knows Sanscrit or not, I can't say ; but Goldmore 
 got him the business; and so I cannot help having a lurking 
 regard for that pompous old Bigwig. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 SNOBS AND MAEEIAGE. 
 
 " We Bachelors in Clubs are very much obliged to you," says 
 my old school and college companion, Essex Temple, " for the 
 opinion which you hold of us. You call us selfish, purple-faced, 
 bloated, and other pretty names. Ton state, in the simplest 
 possible terms, that we shall go to the deuce. You bid us rot in 
 loneliness, and deny us all claims to honesty, conduct, decent 
 Christian life. Who are you, Mr. Snob, to jndge us so? Who 
 are you, with your infernal benevolent smirk and grin, that laugh 
 at all our generation ? 
 
 " I will tell you my case," says Essex Temple; " mine and my 
 sister Polly's, and you may make what you like of it ; aud sneer 
 at old maids, and bully old bachelors, if you will. 
 
 " I will whisper to you confidentially that my sister Polly was 
 engaged to Serjeant Shirker — a fellow whose talents one cannot 
 deny, and be hanged to them, but whom I have always known to 
 be mean, selfish, and a prig. However, women don't see these
 
 134 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 faults in the men whom Love throws in their vraj. Shirker, who 
 has about as much warmth as an eel, made up to Poilj years and 
 years ago, and was no bad match for a briefless barrister, as he 
 was then. 
 
 " Have you ever read Lord Eldon's life ? Do you remember 
 how the sordid old Snob narrates his going out to purchase two- 
 pence-worth of sprats, which he and Mrs. Scott fried between 
 them ? And how he parades his humility, and exhibits his miser- 
 able poverty — ^he who at that time must have been making a 
 thousand pounds a year ? "Well, Shirker was just as proud of his 
 prudence — ^just as thankful for his own meanness, and of course 
 would not marry without a competency. Who so honourable ? 
 Polly waited, and waited faintly, from year to year. He wasn't 
 sick at heart ; his passion never disturbed his six hours' sleep, or 
 kept his ambition out of mind. He would rather have hugged an 
 attorney any day than have kissed Polly, though she was one of 
 the prettiest creatures in the world; and while she was pining 
 alone up-stairs, reading over the stock of half-a-dozen frigid letters 
 that the confounded prig had condescended to write to her ; 7ie, 
 be sure, was never busy with anything but his briefs in chambers 
 — always frigid, rigid, self-satisfied, and at his duty. The marriage 
 trailed on year after year, while Mr. Serjeant Shirker grew to be 
 the famous lawyer he is. 
 
 " Meanwhile, my younger brother, Pump Temple, who was in 
 the 120th Hussars, and had the same little patrimony which fell 
 to the lot of myself and Polly, must fall in love with our cousin, 
 Fanny Pigtree, and marry her out of hand. Tou should have 
 seen the wedding ! Six bridesmaids in pink, to hold the fan, 
 bouquet, gloves, scent-bottle, and pocket-handkerchief of the bride ; 
 basketsfull of white favours in the vestry, to be pinned on to the 
 footmen and horses ; a genteel congregation of curious acquaint- 
 ance in the pews, a shabby one of poor on the steps ; all the 
 carriages of all our acquaintance, whom Aunt Figtree had levied 
 for the occasion ; and of course four horses for jMr. Pump's bridal 
 vehicle. 
 
 " Then comes the breakfast or dejeuner, if you please, with a 
 brass band in the street, and policemen to keep order. The happy 
 bridegroom spends about a year's income in dresses for the brides-
 
 SNOBS AND MARRIAGE. 135 
 
 maids and pretty presents ; and the bride must liave a trousseau 
 of laces, satins, jewel-boxes and torn-foolery, to make ber fit to be 
 a lieutenant's wife. There was no hesitation about Pump. He 
 flung about his money as if it had been dross ; and Mrs. P. Temple 
 on the horse Tom Tiddler, which her husband gave her, was the 
 most dashing of military women at Brighton or Dublin. How 
 old Mrs. Figtree used to bore me and Polly with stories of Pump's 
 grandeur and the noble company he kept ! Polly lives with the 
 Pigtrees, as I am not rich enough to keep a home for her. 
 
 " Pump and I have always been rather distant. Not having 
 the slightest notions about horseflesh, he has a natural contempt 
 for me ; and in our mother's lifetime, when the good old lady was 
 always paying his debts and petting him, I'm not sure there was 
 not a little jealousy. It used to be Polly that kept the peace 
 between us. 
 
 " She went to Dublin to visit Pump, and brought back grand 
 accounts of his doings — gayest man about town — Aide-de-Camp 
 to the Lord Lieutenant — Fanny admired everywhere — Her Excel- 
 lency godmother to the second boy. The eldest with a string of 
 aristocratic Christian names that made the grandmother wild 
 with delight. Presently Panny and Pump obligingly came over 
 to London, where the third was born. 
 
 " Polly was godmother to this, and who so loving as she and 
 Pump now ? ' Essex ! ' says she to me, ' he is so good, so 
 generous, so fond of his family ; so handsome ; Avho can help 
 loving him, and pardoning his little errors ? ' One day, while 
 Mrs. Pump was yet in the upper regions, and Doctor Eingerfee's 
 brougham at her door every day, having business at Guildhall, 
 whom should I meet in Cheapside but Pump and Polly ? The 
 poor girl looked more happy and rosy than I have seen her these 
 twelve years. Pump, on the contrary, was rather blushing and 
 embarrassed. "" 
 
 " I couldn't be mistaken in her face and its look of mischief and 
 triumph. She had been committing some act of sacrifice. I went 
 to the family stockbroker. She had sold out two thousand pounds 
 that morning and given them to Pump. Quarrelling was useless 
 — Pump had the money ; he was ofl' to Dublin by the time I 
 reached his mother's, and Polly radiant still. He was going to
 
 130 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 make bis fortune ; lie was going to embark tbe money in tbe Bog 
 of Allen — I don't know wbat. Tbe fact is, be was going to pay- 
 bis losses upon tlie last Mancbester steeple-cbase, and I leave you 
 to imagine boAV mucb principal or interest poor Polly ever saw 
 back again. 
 
 " It was more tban balf ber fortune, and be bas bad auotber 
 tbousand since from ber. Tben came efforts to stave oif ruin and 
 prevent exposure ; struggles on all our parts, and sacrifices, tbat 
 (here Mr. Essex Temple began to besitate) tbat needn't be talked 
 of; but they are of no more use tban such sacrifices ever are. 
 Pump and bis wife are abroad — I don't like to ask where ; Polly 
 has the three children, and Mr. Serjeant Shirker bas formally 
 written to break off an engagement, on tbe conclusion of which 
 Miss Temple must herself have speculated, when she alienated the 
 greater part of her fortune. 
 
 " And here's your famous theory of poor marriages," Essex 
 Temple cries, concluding the above history. " How do you know 
 that I don't want to marry myself? How do you dare sneer at 
 my poor sister ? What are we but martyrs of the reckless mar- 
 riage system which Mr. Snob, forsooth, chooses to advocate?" 
 And he thought he had the better of the argument, which, strange 
 to say, is not my opinion. 
 
 But for tbe infernal Snob-worship, might not every one of these 
 people be happy ? If poor Polly's happiness lay in linking ber 
 tender arms round such a heartless prig as the sneak who has 
 deceived ber, she might have been happy now — as happy as Eay- 
 mond Baymond in tbe ballad, with the stone statue by his side. 
 She is wretched because Mr. Serjeant Shirker worships money 
 and ambition, and is a Snob and a coward. 
 
 If the unfortunate Pump Temple and bis giddy hussy of a wife 
 have ruined themselves, and dragged down others into their cala- 
 mity, it is because they loved rank, and horses, and plate, and 
 carriages, and Court Guides, and millinery, and would sacrifice all 
 to attain those objects. 
 
 And who misguides them ? If the world were more simple, 
 would not those foolish people follow the fashion ? Does not the 
 world loye Court Guides, and milluaery, and plate, and carriages ? 
 Mercy on us ! Bead the fashionable intelligence ; read the Court
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 137 
 
 Circular ; read the genteel novels ; survey mankind, from Pimlico 
 to Eed Lion Square, and see how the Poor Snob is aping the Rich 
 Snob ; how the Mean Snob is grovelling at the feet of the Proud 
 Snob ; and the Great Snob is lording it over his humble brother. 
 Does the idea of equality ever enter Dives' head ? Will it ever ? 
 Will the Duchess of Fitzbattleaxe (I like a good name) ever 
 believe that Lady Croesus, her next door neighbour in Belgrave 
 Square, is as good a lady as her Grace ? Will Lady Croesus ever 
 leave off pining for the Duchess's parties, and cease patronising 
 Mrs. Broadcloth, whose husband has not got his Baronetcy yet ? 
 WiU Mrs. Broadcloth ever heartily shake hands with Mrs. Seedy, 
 and give up those odious calculations about poor dear Mrs. Seedy's 
 income ? Will Mrs. Seedy, who is starving in her great house, go 
 and live comfortably in a little one, or in lodgings ? Will her 
 landlady, Miss Letsam, ever stop wondering at the familiarity of 
 tradespeople, or rebuking the insolence of Suky, the maid, who 
 wears flowers under her bonnet, like a lady ? 
 
 But why hope, why wish for such times ? Do I wish all Snobs 
 to perish ? Do I wish these Snob papers to determine ? Suicidal 
 fool, art not thou, too, a Snob and a brother ? 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 
 
 I wiSK to be particularly agreeable to the ladies (to whom 
 I make my most humble obeisance), and we will now, if you 
 please, commence maligning a class of Snobs, against whom, I 
 believe, most female minds are embittered, — I mean Club Snobs. 
 I have very seldom heard even the most gentle and placable 
 woman speak without a little feeling of bitterness against those 
 social institutions, those palaces swaggering in St. James's, which 
 are open to the men ; while the ladies have but their dingy 
 three -windowed brick boxes in Belgravia or in Paddingtonia, 
 or in the region between the road of Edgeware and that of 
 Gray's Inn. 
 
 In my grandfather's time it used to be Free-Masonry that roused
 
 138 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 tlieir anger. It "was my grand aunt (whose portrait we still have 
 in the family) who got into the clock-case at the Eoyal Eosicrucian 
 Lodge at Bungay, Suffolk, to spy the proceedings of the Society, 
 of which her husband was a member, and being frightened by the 
 sudden whirring and striking eleven of the clock (just as the 
 Deputy- Grand-Master was bringing in the mystic gridiron for the 
 reception of a neophyte), rushed out into the midst of the lodge 
 assembled ; and was elected, by a desperate unanimity, Deputy- 
 Grand-Mistress for life. Though that admirable and courageous 
 female never subsequently breathed a word with regard to the 
 secrets of the initiation, yet she inspired all our family with such 
 a terror regarding the mysteries of Jachin and Boaz, that none 
 of our family have ever since joined the Society, or worn the 
 dreadful Masonic insignia. 
 
 It is known that Orpheus was torn to pieces by some justly 
 indignant Thracian ladies for belonging to an Harmonic Lodge. 
 " Let him go back to Eurydice," they said, " whom he is pretend- 
 ing to regret so." But the history is given in Dr. Lempriere's 
 elegant dictionary in a manner much more forcible than any 
 which this feeble pen can attempt. At once, then, and without 
 verbiage, let us take up this subject-matter of Clubs. 
 
 Clubs ought not in my mind to be permitted to bachelors. If 
 my friend of the Cutty Kilts had not our club, the Union Jack, to 
 go to (I belong to the U. J. and nine other similar institutions), 
 who knows but he never would be a bachelor at this present 
 moment ? Instead of being made comfortable, and cockered up 
 with every luxury, as they are at Clubs, bachelors ought to be 
 rendered profoundly miserable, in my opinion. Every encourage- 
 ment should be given to the rendering their spare time disagi'ee- 
 able. There can be no more odious object, according to my 
 sentiments, than young Smith, in the pride of health, commanding 
 his dinner of three courses ; than middle-aged Jones wallowing 
 (as I may say) in an easy padded arm-chair, over the last delicious 
 novel or brilliant magazine ; or than old Brown, that selfish old 
 reprobate for whom mere literature has no charms, stretched on 
 the best sofa, sitting on the second edition of the Times, having 
 the Morninf/ Chronicle between his knees, the Herald pushed in 
 between his coat and waistcoat, the Standard under his left arm ,
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 13» 
 
 tbe Globe under the other pinion, and the Daily JVews in perusal. 
 "I'll trouble you for Punch, Mr. AViggins,"- says the unconscion- 
 able old gormandiser, interrupting our friend, who is laughing 
 over the periodical in question. 
 
 This kiud of selfishness ought not to be. No, no. Toung 
 Smith, instead of his dinner and his wine, ought to be, where ? — 
 at the festive tea-table, to be sure, by the side of Miss Higgs, 
 sipping the bohea, or tasting the harmless muffin ; while old Mrs. 
 Higgs looks on, pleased at their innocent dalHance, and my friend 
 Miss AVirt, the governess, is performing Thalberg's last sonata in 
 treble X, totally imheeded, at the piano. 
 
 Where should the middle-aged Jones be ? At liis time of life, 
 he ought to be the father of a family. At such an hour — say, at 
 nine o'clock at night — the nursery-bell should have just rung the 
 children to bed. He and Mrs. J. ought to be, by rights, seated on 
 each side of the fire by the dining-room table, a bottle of Port 
 Wine between them, not so full as it was an hour since. Mrs. J. 
 has had two glasses ; Mrs. Grumble (Jones's mother-in-law) has 
 had three : Jones himself has finished the rest, and doses comfort- 
 ably until bed-time. 
 
 And Brown, that old newspaper-devouring miscreant, what 
 right has he at a club at a decent hour of night ? He ought to be 
 playing his rubber with Miss Mac Whirter, his wife, and the 
 family apothecary. His candle ought to be brought to him at ten 
 o'clock, and he should retire to rest just as the young people were 
 thinking of a dance. How much finer, simpler, nobler, are the 
 several employments I have sketched out for these gentlemen, 
 than their present nightly orgies at the horrid Club. 
 
 And, ladies, think of men who do not merely frequent the dining- 
 room and library, but who use other apartments of those horrible 
 dens which it is my purpose to batter down ; think of Cannon, the 
 wretcli, with his coat off, at his age and size, clattering the balls 
 over the billiard table all night, and making bets witli that odious 
 Captain Spot ! — think of Pam in a dark room with Bob Trumper, 
 Jack Deuceace, and Charley Vole, playing, the poor dear misguided 
 wretch, guinea points and five pounds on the rubber ! — above all, 
 think, think, of that den of abomination, which, I am told, has 
 been established in some clubs, called the Smoking'Eoom, — think
 
 140 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 of the debauchees who congregate there, the quantities of reeking 
 whiskey-punch or more dangerous sherry-cobbler which they con- 
 sume ; — think of them coming home at cock-crow and letting them- 
 selves into the quiet house with the Chubb key ; — think of them, 
 the hypocrites, taking off their insidious boots before they slink 
 up stairs, the children sleeping over-head, the wife of their bosom 
 alone with the waning rushlight in the two-pair front — that 
 chamber so soon to be rendered hateful by the smell of their stale 
 cigars ! I am not an advocate of violence ; I am not, by nature, 
 of an incendiary turn of mind, but if, my dear ladies, you are for 
 assassinating Mr. Chubb and burning down the Club Houses in 
 St. James's there is one Snob, at least, who will not think the 
 worse of you. 
 
 The only men who, as I opine, ought to be allowed the use of 
 Clubs, are married men without a profession. The continual 
 presence of these in a house cannot be thought, even by the most 
 uxorious of wives, desirable. Say the girls are beginning to prac- 
 tise their music, which in an honourable English family, ought to 
 occupy every young gentlewoman three hours ; it would be rather 
 hard to call upon poor papa to sit in the drawing-room all that 
 time, and listen to the interminable discords and shrieks which 
 are elicited from the miserable piano during the above necessary 
 operation. A man, vdth a good ear especially, would go mad, if 
 compelled daily to submit to this horror. 
 
 Or suppose you have a fancy to go to the milliner's, or to 
 Howell and James's, it is manifest, my dear Madam, that your 
 husband is much better at the Club during these operations than 
 by your side in the carriage, or perched in wonder upon one of the 
 stools at Shawl and Gimcrack's, whilst young counter-dandies are 
 displaying their wares. 
 
 This sort of husbands should be sent out after breakfast, and if 
 not Members of Parliament, or Directors of a Eailroad, or an 
 Insurance Company, should be put into their Clubs, and told to 
 remain there until dinner time. No sight is more agreeable to 
 my truly well-regulated mind than to see the noble characters so 
 worthily employed. Whenever I pass by St. James's Street, 
 having the privilege, like the rest of the world, of looking in at 
 the windows of Blight's, or Foodie's, or Snook's, or the great bay
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 141 
 
 at the Contemplative Club, I behold with respectful appreciation 
 the figures within — the honest rosy old fogies, the mouldy old 
 dandies, the waist-belts and glossy wigs and tight cravats of those 
 most vacuous and respectable men. Such men are best there 
 during the day-time surely. When you part with them, dear 
 ladies, think of the rapture consequent on their return. You 
 have transacted your household affairs ; you have made your 
 purchases ; you have paid your visits ; you have aired your poodle 
 in the Park ; your Trench maid has completed the toilette which 
 renders you so ravishingly beautiful by candlelight, and you are 
 fit to make home pleasant to him who has been absent all day. 
 
 Such men surely ought to have their Clubs, and we will not 
 class them among Club Snobs therefore : — on whom let us reserve 
 our attack for the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 
 
 Such a sensation has been created in the Clubs by the appear- 
 ance of the last paper on Club Snobs, as can't but be compH- 
 mentary to me who am one of their number. 
 
 I belong to nine clubs. The Union Jack, the Sash and Mar- 
 ling-spike — Military Clubs. The True Blue, the No Surrender, 
 the Blue and Buff, the Guy Fawkes, and the Cato Street — Political 
 Clubs. The Brummell and the Eegent — Dandy Clubs. The 
 Acropolis, the Palladium, the Areopagus, the Pnyx, the Pentelicus, 
 the llyssus, and the Polupbloisboio Thalasses — Literary Clubs. 
 I never could make out how the latter set of Clubs got their 
 names ; I don't know Greek for one, and I wonder how many 
 other members of those institutions do. 
 
 Ever since the Club Snobs have been announced, I observe a 
 sensation created on my entrance into any one of these places. 
 Members get up and hustle together; they nod, they scowl, as 
 they glance towards the present Snob. *' Infernal impudent 
 jackanapes! If he shows me up," says Colonel Bludyer, "I'll 
 break every bone in his skin." " I told you what would come of
 
 142 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 admitting literary men into the Club," says Eanville Eanvllle to 
 his colleague, Spooney, of tlie Tape and Sealing-Wax OflSce. 
 *' These people ai'e very well in tlieir proper places, and as a public 
 man, I make a point of shaking hands with them, and that sort of 
 thing ; but to have one's privacy obtruded upon by such people is 
 really too much. Come along, Spooney," and the pair of prigs 
 retire superciliously. 
 
 As I came into the coffee-room at the No Surrender, old 
 Jawkins was holding out to a knot of men, who were yawning, as 
 usual. There he stood, waving the Standard, and swaggering 
 before the fire. " "What," says he, " did I tell Peel last year ? If 
 you touch the Corn Laws, you touch the Sugar Question ; if you 
 touch the Sugar, you touch the Tea. I am no monopolist. I am 
 a liberal man, but I cannot forget that I stand on the brink of a 
 precipice ; and if we are to have Eree Trade, give me reciprocity. 
 And what was Sir Robert Peel's answer to me ? ' Mr. Jawkins,' 
 he said" — 
 
 Here Jawkins's eye suddenly turning on your humble servant, 
 he stopped his sentence, with a guilty look — his stale, old, stupid 
 sentence, which every one of us at the Club has heard over and 
 over again. 
 
 Jawkins is a most pertinacious Club Snob. Every day he is at 
 that fire-place, holding that Standard, of which he reads up the 
 leading article, and pours it out, ore rotundo, with the most 
 astonishing composure, in the face of his neiglibour, who has just 
 read every word of it in the paper. Jawkins has money, as you 
 may see by the tie of his neckcloth. He passes the morning 
 swaggering about the City, in bankers' and brokers' parlours, and 
 says : — " I spoke with Peel yesterday, and his intentions are so 
 and so. Graham and I were talking over the matter, and I pledge 
 you my word of honour, his opinion coincides with mine ; and that 
 Whatd'yecallum is the only measure Government will venture on 
 trying." By evening-paper time he is at the Club : " I can tell 
 you the opinion of the City, my lord," says he, " and the way in 
 which Jones Loyd looks at it is briefly this ; Eothschilds told me 
 so themselves. In Mark Lane, people's minds are quite made 
 up." He is considered rather a well-informed man. 
 
 He lives in Belgravia, of course; in a drab-coloured genteel
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 143 
 
 house, and lias everythiug about him that is properly grave, dismal, 
 and comfortable. His dinners are in the Morning Herald, among 
 the parties for the week ; and his wife and daughters make a 
 very handsome appearance at the Drawiug-Eoom, once a-year, when 
 he comes down to the Club in his Deputy-Lieutenant's uniform. 
 
 He is fond of beginning a speech to you by saying, " When I 
 was in the House, I &c." — in fact he sat for Skittlebury for tliree 
 weeks in the first Reformed Parliament, and was unseated for 
 bribery; since which he has three times unsuccessfully contested 
 that honourable borough. 
 
 Another sort of Political Snob I have seen at most Clubs, and 
 that is the man who does not care so much for home politics, but 
 is great upon foreign affairs. I think this sort of man is scarcely 
 found anywhere hut in Clubs. It is for him the papers provide 
 their foreign articles, at the expense of some ten thousand a-year 
 each. He is the man who is really seriously uncomfortable 
 about the designs of Eussia, and the atrocious treachery of Louis- 
 Philippe. He it is who expects a French fleet in the Thames, 
 and has a constant eye upon the American President, every word 
 of whose speech (goodness help him !) he reads. He knows tlie 
 names of the contending leaders in Portugal, and what they arc 
 fighting about : and it is he who saj's that Lord Aberdeen ought 
 to be impeached, and Lord Palmerston hanged, or vice versa. 
 
 Lord Palmerston's being sold to Russia, the exact number of 
 roubles paid, by what house in the City, is a favourite theme with 
 this kind of Snob. I once overheard him — it was Captain Spit- 
 fire, R.lSr., (who had been refused a ship by the AVhigs, by the 
 waj^) — indulging in the following conversation with Mr. Minus 
 after dinner. 
 
 " Why wasn't the Princess Scragamoftsky at Lady Palmerston's 
 party, Minns ? Because she can't show — and why can't she show ? 
 Shall I tell you, Minns, why she can't show? The Princess 
 Scragamoifsky's back is flayed alive, Minns — I tell you it's raw, 
 Sir ! On Tuesday last, at twelve o'clock, three drummers of the 
 Preobajinski regiment arrived at Ashburnham House, and at half- 
 past twelve, in the yellow drawing-room at the Russian Embassy, 
 before the ambassadress and four ladies'-maids, the Greek Papa, 
 and the Secretary of Embassy, IMadame de Scragaraofi'sky received
 
 Ui THE BOOK OF SNOBS, 
 
 thirteen dozen. She was knouted, Sir, knouted in the midst of 
 England — in Berkeley Square, for having said that the Grand 
 Duchess Olga's hair was red. And now, Sir, will you tell me 
 Lord Palmerston ought to continue Minister ? " 
 
 Minns. " Good Ged ! " 
 
 Minns follows Spitfire about, and thinks him the greatest and 
 wisest of human bein2;s. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 CLITB SXOBS. 
 
 "Why does not some great author write " The Mysteries of the 
 Club Houses; or St. James's Street unveiled." It would be a 
 fine subject for an imaginative writer. We must all, as boys, 
 remember when we went to the fair, and had spent all our money 
 — the sort of awe and anxiety with which we loitered round the 
 outside of the show, speculating upon the nature of the entertain- 
 ment going on within. 
 
 Man is a Drama — of Wonder and Passion, and Mystery and 
 Meanness, and Beauty and Truthfulness, and Etcetera. Each 
 Bosom is a Booth in Vanity Eair. But let us stop this capital 
 style, I should die if I kept it up for a column (a pretty thing a 
 column all capitals would be, by the way). In a Club, though 
 there mayn't be a soul of your acquaintance in the room, you 
 have always the chance of watching strangers, and speculating on 
 what is going on Avithin those tents and curtains of their souls, 
 their coats and waistcoats. This is a never-failing sport. Indeed 
 I am told there are some Clubs in the town where nobody ever 
 speaks to anybody. They sit in the coffee-room, quite silent, and 
 watching each other. 
 
 Yet how little you can tell from a man's outward demeanour f 
 There's a man at our Club — large, heavy, middle-aged — gorgeously 
 dressed — rather bald — with lacquered boots — and a boa when he 
 goes out ; quiet in demeanour, always ordering and consuming a 
 recherche little dinner, whom I have mistaken for Sir John Pock- 
 lington any time these five years, and respected as a man with five
 
 CLUB SN0J5S, 145 
 
 hundred pounds 'per diem; and I find he is but a clerk in an 
 office in the City, with not two hundred pounds income, and his 
 name is Jubber. Sir John Pocklington was, on the contrary, the 
 dirty little snuffy man who cried out so about tbe bad quality of 
 the beer, and grumbled at being overcharged threehalfpence for a 
 herring, seated at the next table to Jubber on the day wlien some 
 one pointed tlie Baronet out to me. 
 
 Take a different sort of mysterj'. I see, for instance, old 
 iFawney stealing round the rooms of the Club, with glassy, mean- 
 ingless eyes, and an endless greasy simper — he fawns on everybody 
 he meets, and shakes hands with you, and blesses you, and betrays 
 tbe most tender and astonishing interest in your welfare. You 
 know him to be a quack and a rogue, and he knows you know it. 
 But he wriggles on his way, and leaves a track of slimy flatteiy after 
 him wherever he goes. AVho can penetrate that man's mystery ? 
 What earthly good can he get from you or me ? Ton don't know 
 wliat is working under that leering tranquil mask. Ton have only 
 the dim instinctive repulsion that warns you, you are in the presence 
 of a knave — beyond which fact all Tawney's soul is a secret to you. 
 
 I think I like to speculate on the young men best. Their play 
 is opener. Tou know the cards in their hand, as it were. Take, 
 for example, Messrs. Spavin and Cockspur. 
 
 A specimen or two of the above sort of young fellows may be 
 found, I believe, at most Clubs. They know nobody. They bring 
 a fine smell of cigars into the room with them, and they growl 
 together, in a corner, about sporting matters. They recollect the 
 history of that short period in wliich they have been ornaments of 
 the world by the names of winning horses. -As political men talk 
 about " the Eeform year," "the year the Whigs went out," and 
 so forth, these young sporting bucks speak of Tarnation's year, or 
 Opodeldoc's year, or the year when Catawampus ran second for the 
 Chester Cup. They play at billiards in the morning, they absorb 
 pale ale for breakfast, and " top up" with glasses of strong waters. 
 They read BelVs Life (and a very pleasant paper too, with a great 
 deal of erudition in the answers to correspondents). They go 
 down to Tattcrsall's, and swagger in tlie Park, with tlieir hands 
 plunged in tlie pockets of their paletots. 
 
 What strikes me especially in the outward demeanour of sporting
 
 146 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 youth is their amazing gravity, their conciseness of speech, and 
 care-worn and moody air. In the smoking-room at the Eegent, 
 ■when Joe Millerson will be setting the whole room in a roar 
 with laughter, you hear young Messrs. Spavin and Cockspur 
 grumbling together in a corner. " I '11 take yoiu' five-and-twenty 
 to one about Brother to Bluenose," whispers Spavin. " Can't do 
 it at the price." Cockspur says, wagging his head ominously. 
 The betting-book is always present in the minds of those unfor- 
 tunate youngsters. I think I hate that work even more than the 
 'Peerage. There is some good in the latter — though, generally 
 speaking, a vain record ; though De Muggins is not descended 
 from the giant Hogyn Mogyn ; though half the other genealogies 
 are equally false and foolish ; yet the mottoes are good reading- 
 some of them ; and the book itself a sort of gold-laced and liveried 
 lackey to History, and in so far serviceable. But what good ever 
 came out of, or went into, a betting-book ? If I could be Caliph 
 Omar for a week, I would pitch every one of those despicable 
 manuscripts into the flames ; from my Lord's, who is " in " with 
 Jack Snaffle's stable, and is over-reaching worse-informed rogu^es 
 and swindling greenhorns ; down to Sam's, the butcher-boy's, who 
 books eighteen-penny odds in the tap-room, and " stands to win 
 five-and-twenty bob." 
 
 In a turf transaction, either Spavin or Cockspur would try to 
 get the better of his father, and, to gain a point in the odds, 
 victimise his best friends. One day we shall hear of one or other 
 levanting ; an event at which, not being sporting men, we shall 
 not break our hearts. See — Mr. Spann is settling his toilette 
 previous to departure ; giving a curl in the glass to his side-wisps 
 of hair. Look at him ! It is only at the hulks, or among turf-men, 
 that you ever see a face so mean, so knowing, and so gloomy. 
 
 A much more humane being among the youthful Clubbists is 
 the Lady-killing Snob. I saw Wiggle just now in the dressing- 
 room, talking to Waggle, his inseparable. 
 
 Waggle. " 'Pon my honour, AViggle, she did." 
 
 Wiggle. " Well, Waggle, as you say — I own I think she did 
 look at me rather kindly. We'll see to-night at the French play." 
 
 And having arrayed their little persons, these two harmless 
 young bucks go up-stairs to dinner.
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 147 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 CLTJB SNOBS. 
 
 Both sorts of young men, mentioned in my last under tlie 
 flippant names of Wiggle and Waggle, may be found in tolerable 
 plenty, I think, in Clubs. Wiggle and AYaggle are botb idle. 
 They come of the middle classes. One of them very likely makes 
 believe to be a barrister, and the other has smart apartments about 
 Piccadilly. They are a sort of second-chop dandies ; they cannot 
 imitate that superb listlessness of demeanour, and that admirable 
 vacuous folly which distinguishes the noble and high-born chiefs 
 of the race ; but they lead lives almost as bad (were it but for 
 the example), and are personally quite as useless. I am not going 
 to arm a thunderbolt, and launch it at the heads of these little 
 Pall Mall butterflies. They don't commit much public harm, or 
 private extravagance. They don't spend a thousand pounds for 
 diamond ear-rings for an Opera-dancer, as Lord Tarquin can: 
 neither of them ever set up a public-house or broke the bank of 
 a gambling-club, like the young Earl of Martingale. They have 
 good points, kind feelings, and deal honourably in money-transac- 
 tions — only in their characters of men of second-rate pleasure 
 about town, they and their like are so utterly mean, self-contented, 
 and absurd, that they must not be omitted in a work treating 
 on Snobs. 
 
 Wiggle has been abroad, where he gives you to understand that 
 his success among the German countesses and Italian princesses, 
 whom he met at the tables cVhote, was perfectly terrific. His 
 rooms are hung round with pictures of actresses and ballet- 
 dancers. He passes his mornings in a fine dressing-gown, burning 
 pastilles, and reading Bon Juan and Prench novels (by the way, 
 the life of the author of Bon Juan, as described by himself, was 
 the model of the life of a Snob). He has twopenny-halfpenny 
 Prench prints of women with languishing eyes, dressed in domi- 
 noes, — guitars, gondolas, and so forth, — and tells you stories 
 about them. 
 
 " It's a bad print," says he, " I know, but I've a reason for liking 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 it. It reminds me of somebody — somebody I knew in other climes. 
 Ton bare beard of tbe Priucipessa di 3Ioute Puleiano ? I met 
 her at Eimiui. Dear, dear Francesca ! That fair-haired, bright- 
 eyed thing in the Bird of Paradise and the Turkish Simar with 
 the love-bird on her finger, I'm sure must have been taken from 
 — from somebody perhaps whom you don't know — but she's 
 known at Munich, Waggle, my boy, — everybody knows the 
 Countess Ottilia di Eoleuschreckenstein. Gad, Sir, what a beau- 
 tiful creature she was when I danced with her on the birthday of 
 Prince Attila of Bavaria, in '44. Prince Carloman was our vis- 
 a-vis, and Prince Pepin danced the same contredanse. She had 
 a Polyanthus in her bouquet. "Waggle, I have it now.'" His coun- 
 tenance assumes au agonised and mysterious expression, and he 
 buries his head in the sofa cushions, as if plunging into a whirl- 
 pool of passionate recollections. 
 
 Last year he made a considerable sensation, bj^ having on his 
 table a morocco miniature-case locked by a gold key, which he 
 always wore round his neck, and on which was stamped a ser- 
 pent — emblem of eternity — with the letter M in the circle. 
 Sometimes he laid this upon his little morocco writing-table, as 
 if it were on an altar — generally he had flowers upon it — in the 
 middle of a conversation he would start up and kiss it. He 
 would call out from his bed-room to his valet, " Hicks, bring me 
 my casket ! " 
 
 "I don't know who it is," Waggle would sa\', '^\{\\o does 
 know that fellow's intrigues ! Desborough Wiggle, Sir, is the 
 slave of passion. I suppose you have heard the story of the 
 Italian princess locked up in the Convent of Saint Barbara, at 
 Eimini — he hasn't told you ; then I'm not at liberty to speak — 
 or the countess, about whom he nearly had tlie duel with Prince 
 Witikind of Bavaria ? Perhaps you hav'n't even heard about 
 that beautiful girl at Pentonville, daughter of a most respectable 
 dissentinjr clerfrvmau. She broke her heart when she found he 
 Avas engaged (to a most lovely creature of high family, who after- 
 wards proved false to him), and slie's now in Hauwell." 
 
 Waggle's belief in his friend amounts to frantic adoration. 
 "What a genius he is, if he would but apply himself! " he whis- 
 pers to me. " He could be anything. Sir, but for liis passions.
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 140 
 
 His poems are the most beautiful things you ever saw. He's 
 written a continuation of Don Juan, from his own adventures. 
 Did you ever read ]iis lines to Mary ? They're superior to Byron, 
 Sir — superior to Byron." 
 
 I was glad to hear this from so accomplished a critic as "Waggle ; 
 for the fact is, I had composed the verses myself for honest "Wiggle 
 one day, whom I found at his chambers plunged in thought over a 
 very dirty old-fashioned album, in which he had not as yet written 
 a single word. 
 
 " I can't," says he. " Sometimes I can write whole cantos, 
 and to-day not a line. 0, Snob ! such an opportunity ! Such a 
 divine creature ! She's asked me to write verses for her album, 
 and I can't." 
 
 " Is she rich :■ " said I. " I thought you would never marry 
 any but an heiress." 
 
 " 0, Snob ! slie's the most accomplished, highly-connected crea- 
 ture \ — and I can't get out a line." 
 
 "How will you have it," says I : " hot with sugar ? " 
 
 " Don't, don't ! You trample on the most sacred feelings, Snob. 
 I want something wild and tender, — like Byron. I want to tell 
 her that amongst the festive halls, and that sort of thing, you 
 know — I only think about her, you know — that I scorn tlie world, 
 and am weary of it, you know, and — something about a gazelle, 
 and a bulbul, you know." 
 
 "And a yataghan to finish oft" with," tlie present writer observed, 
 and we began : — 
 
 TO MARY. 
 
 I seem, in the mid.st of the crowd. 
 
 The lightest of all ; 
 My laughter rings cheeiy and loud, 
 
 In banquet and ball. 
 My lip hath its smiles and it.s sneers, 
 
 For all men to see ; 
 Bat my soul, and my truth, and my tears, 
 
 Are for thee, are for thee ! 
 
 " Do you call that neat, "Wiggle ? " says I. " I declare it almost 
 makes me cry, myself." 
 
 " Now, suppose," says "Wiggle, " we say that all the world is at
 
 150 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 ray feet — make her jealous, you know, and that sort of tiling — and 
 tbat — that I'm going to travel, you know. That perhaps may 
 work upon her feelings." 
 
 So We (as this wretched prig said) began again : — 
 
 Around me they flatter and fawn — 
 
 The Touug and the old, 
 The fairest are ready to pawn 
 
 Their hearts for ray gold. 
 They sue me — I laugh as I spurn 
 
 The slaves at my knee, 
 But in faith, and in fondness, I turn 
 
 Unto thee, unto thee ! 
 
 " Now for the travelling, "Wiggle, my boy ! " and I began, in a 
 voice choked with emotion — 
 
 Away ! for my heart knows no rest 
 
 Since you taught it to feel ; 
 The secret must die in my breast 
 
 I burn to reveal ; 
 The passion I may not * * 
 
 " I say, Snob ! " Wiggle here interrupted the excited bard 
 (just as I was about to break out into four lines so pathetic that 
 they would drive you into hysterics). " I say — ahem — couldn't 
 Tou say that I was — a — military man, and that there was some 
 danger of my life ? " 
 
 " Tou a military man? — danger of your life ? "What the deuce 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " Why," said "Wiggle, blushing a good deal. " I told her I was 
 going out — on — the — Ecuador — expedition." 
 
 " You abominable young impostor," I exclaimed. "Finish the 
 poem for yourself ! " And so he did, and entirely out of all metre, 
 and bragged about the work at the Club as his own performance. 
 
 Poor Waggle fully believed in his friend's genius, until one 
 day last week he came with a grin on his countenance to the Club, 
 and said " O, Snob, I've made such a discovery ! Going down to 
 the skating to-day, whom should I see but Wiggle walking with 
 that splendid woman — that lady of illustrious family and immense 
 fortune, Mary, you know, whom he wrote the beautiful verses
 
 CLUB SNOBS. Wl 
 
 about. She's five-and-forty. She's red hair. She's a nose like 
 a pump-handle. Her father made his fortune hj keeping a ham- 
 and-beef shop, and Wiggle's going to marry her next week." 
 
 " So much the better, "Waggle, my young friend," I exclaimed. 
 "Better for the sake of womankind that this dangerous dog 
 should leave off lady-killing — this Blue-Beard give up practice. 
 Or, better rather for his own sake. For as there is not a word 
 of truth in any of those prodigious love stories which you used 
 to swallow ; nobody has been hurt except "Wiggle himself, whose 
 affections will now centre in the ham-and-beef shop. There are 
 people, Mr, Waggle, who do these things in earnest, and hold a 
 good rank in the world too. But these are not subjects for ridicule, 
 and though certainly snobs, are scoundrels likewise. Their cases 
 go up to a higher Court." 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 
 
 Bacchus is the divinity to whom Waggle devotes his especial 
 worship. " Give me wine, my bo}^," says he to his friend Wiggle, 
 who is prating about lovely woman ; and holds up his glass full 
 of the rosy fluid, and winks at it portentously, and sips it, and 
 smacks his lips after it, and meditates on it, as if he were the 
 greatest of connoisseurs. 
 
 I have remarked this excessive wine-am ateurship especially in 
 youth. Snoblings from College, Fledglings from the army. 
 Goslings from the public schools, who ornament our clubs, are 
 frequently to be heard in great force upon wine questions. 
 " This bottle's corked," says Suobling ; and Mr, Sly, the butler, 
 taking it away, returns presently with the same wine in another 
 jug, which the young amateur pronounces excellent. " Hang 
 champagne! "^'says Fledgling, " it's only fit for gals and children. 
 Give me pale sherry at dinner, and my twenty-three claret after- 
 wards." " What's port now ? " says Gosling; " disgusting thick 
 sweet stuff — where's the old dry wine one used to get ? " Until
 
 152 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 the last twelvemonth, Fleddiuo; drank small-beer at Doctor 
 Swishtail's ; and Gosling used to get his dry old port at a gin-shop, 
 in Westminster — till he quitted that seminary, in 1844. 
 
 Anybody who has looked at the caricatures of thirty years ago, 
 must remember how frequently bottle-noses, pimpled faces, and 
 other Bardolphian features are introduced by the designer. They 
 are much more rare now (in nature, and in pictures, therefore) 
 than in those good old times ; but there are still to be found 
 amongst the youth of our Clubs, lads who glory in drinking-bouts, 
 and whose faces, quite sickly and yellow, for the most part are 
 decorated with those marks which Eowland's Kalydor is said to 
 efface. "I was so cut last night — old boy!" Hopkins says to 
 Tomkins (with amiable confidence). "I tell you what we did. 
 AYe breakfasted with Jack Herring at twelve, and kept up with 
 brandy and soda-water and weeds till four ; then we toddled into 
 the Park for an hour ; then we dined and drank mulled Port till 
 half-price ; then we looked in for an hour at the Haymarket ; then 
 we came back to the Club, and had grills and whiskey punch till all 
 was blue. — Hullo, waiter I Get me a glass of cherry -brandy." Club 
 waiters, the civilest, the kindest, the patientest of men, die under 
 the infliction of these cruel young topers. But if the reader wishes 
 to see a perfect picture on the stage of this class of young fellows, 
 I would recommend him to witness the ingenious comedy of 
 London Assurance — the amiable heroes of which are represented, 
 not only as drunkards and five-o'clock-iu-the-morning men, but as 
 showing a hundred other delightful traits of swindling, lying, and 
 general debauchery, quite edifying to witness. 
 
 How difterent is the conduct of these outrageous youtlis to the 
 decent behaviour of my friend, ]Mr. Papworthy; who says to 
 Poppins, the butler at the club : — 
 
 PapwortJiij. Poppins, I'm thinking of dining early ; is there 
 any cold game in the house ? 
 
 Poppins. There's a game pie. Sir; there's cold grouse, Sir; 
 there's cold pheasant. Sir ; there's cold peacock. Sir ; cold swan. 
 Sir; cold ostrich, Sir; &c. etc. (as the case may be). 
 
 Papicortliy. Hem ! What's your best claret now, Poppins ? — in 
 pints I mean. 
 
 Poppina. There's Cooper and Mngnum's Lafitte, Sir ; there's
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 153 
 
 Lath and Sawdust's St. Jullieu, Sir: Bung's Leoville is considered 
 remarkably fine; and I think you'd like Jugger's Chateau-Margaux. 
 
 Papioorthy. Hum ! — hah ! — well — give me a crust of bread and 
 a glass of beer. I'll only lunch, Poppins. 
 
 Capt. Shindy is another sort of Club bore. He has been known to 
 throw all the Club in an uproar about the quality of his mutton chop. 
 
 " Look at it, Sir ! Is it cooked, Sir ? Smell it. Sir ! Is it 
 meat fit for a gentleman?" he roars out to the steward, who 
 stands trembling before him, and who in vain tells him that the 
 Bishop of BuUocksmithy has just had three from the same loin. 
 All the waiters in all the Club are huddled round the Captain's 
 mutton-chop. He roars out tlie most horrible curses at John 
 for not bringing the pickles ; he utters the most dreadful oaths 
 because Thomas has not arrived with the Harvey sauce ; Peter 
 comes tumbling with the water-jug over Jeames, who is bringing 
 '• the glittering canisters with bread." Whenever Shindy enters 
 the room (such is the force of character), every table is deserted, 
 every gentleman must dine as he best may, and all those big 
 footmen are in terror. 
 
 He makes his account of it. He scolds, and is better waited 
 upon in consequence. At the Club he has ten servants scudding 
 about to do his bidding. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Shindy and the children are, meanwhile, in dingy 
 lodgings somewhere, waited upon by a charity girl, Ln pattens. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 
 
 Etebt well-bred English female will sympathise with the subject 
 of the harrowing tale, the history of Sackville Maine, I am now 
 about to recount. The pleasures of Clubs have been spoken of: 
 let us now glance for a moment at the dangers of those institu- 
 tions, and for this purpose I must introduce you to my young 
 acquaintance, Sackville Maine. 
 
 It was at a ball at the house of my respected friend, Mrs. Per- 
 kins, that I was introduced to this gentleman and his charming
 
 154 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 lady. Seeing a young creature before me in a white dress, with, 
 white satin shoes ; with a pink ribbon, about a yard in breadth, 
 flaming out as she twirled in a Polka in the arms of Monsieur de 
 Springbock, the German diplomatist ; with a green wreath on her 
 head, and the blackest hair this individual ever set eyes on — 
 seeing, I say, before me a charming young woman whisking 
 beautifully in a beautiful dance, and presenting, as she wound 
 and wound round the room, now a full face, then a three-quarter 
 face, then a profile — a face, in fine, which, in every way you 
 saw it, looked pretty, and rosy, and happy, I felt (as I trust) a 
 not unbecoming curiosity regarding the owner of this pleasant 
 countenance, and asked AYagley (who was standing by, in con- 
 versation with an acquaintance) Who was the lady in question ? 
 
 "Which?" says Wagley. 
 
 " That one with the coal-black eyes," I replied. 
 
 " Hush," says he, and the gentleman with whom he was talking 
 moved off, with rather a discomfited air. 
 
 When he was gone Wagley burst out laughing. " Coal-hlack 
 eyes !" said he ; " you've just hit it. That's Mrs. Sackville Maine, 
 and that was her husband who just went away. He's a coal- 
 merchant, Snob, my boy, and I have no doubt j\Ir. Perkins's 
 Wallsends are supplied from his wharf. He is in a flaming 
 furnace when he hears coals mentioned. He and his wife and his 
 mother are very proud of Mrs. Sackville's family ; she was a Miss 
 Chuff, daughter of Captain Chuff, E.N. That is the widow ; that 
 stout woman, in crimson tabinet, battling about the odd trick with 
 old Mr. Dumps, at the card-table." 
 
 And so, in fact, it was. Sackville Maine (whose name is a 
 hundred times more elegant, surely, than that of Chuft) was blest 
 with a pretty wife, and a genteel mother-in-law, both of whom 
 some people may envy him. 
 
 Soon after his marriage the old lady was good enough to come 
 and pay him a visit — just for a fortnight — at his pretty little 
 cottage, Kennington Oval ; and, such is her aflection for the place, 
 has never quitted it these four years. She has also brought her 
 son, Nelson Collingwood Chufi", to live with her ; but he is not so 
 much at home as his mamma, going as a day-boy to Merchant 
 Tailors' School, where he is getting a sound classical education.
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 155 
 
 these beings, so closely allied to his wife, and so justly dear 
 to her, may be considered as drawbacks to Maine's happiness, 
 what man is there that has not some things iu life to complain of? 
 And when I first knew Mr. Maine, no man seemed more comfort- 
 able than he. His cottage was a picture of elegance and comfort ; 
 his table and cellar were excellently and neatly supplied. There 
 was every enjoyment, but no ostentation. The omnibus took him 
 to business of a morning; the boat brought him back to the 
 happiest of homes, where he would while away the long evenings 
 by reading out the fashionable novels to the ladies as they worked ; 
 or accompany his wife on the flute (which he played elegantly) ; 
 or in any one of the hundred pleasing and innocent amusements 
 of the domestic circle. Mrs. Chufi" covered the drawing-rooms with 
 prodigious tapestries, the work of her hands. Mrs. Sackville had 
 a particular genius for making covers of tape or net- work for these 
 tapestried cushions. She could make home-made wines. She 
 could make preserves and pickles. She had an album, into which, 
 during the time of his courtship, Sackville Maine had written 
 choice scraps of Byron and Moore's poetry, analogous to his own 
 situation, and in a fine mercantile hand. She had a large manu- 
 script receipt-book — every quality, in a word, which indicated a 
 firtuous and well-bred English female mind. 
 
 " And as for Nelson Collingwood," Sackville would say, laughing, 
 "we couldn't do without him in the house. If he didn't spoil the 
 tapestry we sliould be over-cushioned in a few months ; and whom 
 could we get but him to drink Laura's home-made wine?" The 
 truth is, the gents who came from the City to dine at the Oval 
 could not be induced to drink it — iu which fastidiousness, I 
 myself, when I grew to be intimate with the family, coufess that I 
 shared. 
 
 " And yet, Sir, that green ginger has been drunk by some of 
 England's proudest heroes," Mrs. Chuff would exclaim ; " Admiral 
 Lord Exmouth tasted and praised it. Sir, on board Captain ChufTs 
 ship, the Nehucliadnezzar, 74, at Algiers ; and he had three dozen 
 with him in the Pitchfork frigate, a part of which Avas served out 
 to the men, before he went into his iaimortal action with the 
 Furibonde, Captain Choufleur, in the Gulf of Panama." 
 
 All this, though the old dowager told us the story every day
 
 156 THE BOOK OF SXOBS. 
 
 when the wine was produced, never served to get rid of any quan- 
 tity of it — and the green ginger, though it had fired British tars 
 for combat and victory, was not to the taste of us peaceful and 
 degenerate gents of modern times. 
 
 I see Sackville now, as on the occasion when presented by 
 Wagley, I paid my first visit to liim. It was in July — a Sunday 
 afternoon — Sackville Maine was coming from church, with his wife 
 on one arm, and his mother-iu-law (in red tabinet, as usual) on 
 the other. A half-grown, or hobbadehoyish footman, so to speak, 
 walked after them, carrying then* shining golden prayer-books — 
 the ladies had splendid parasols with tags and fringes. Mrs. 
 Chuff's great gold watch, fastened to her stomach, gleamed there 
 lilce a ball of fire. iXelson CoUingwood was in the distance, shymg 
 stones at an old horse on Kennington Common. 'Twas on that 
 verdant spot we met — nor can I ever forget the majestic courtesy 
 of Mrs. Cliuft', as she remembered having had the pleasure of 
 seeing me at Mrs. Perkins's — nor the glance of scorn which she 
 tlirew at an unfortunate gentleman who was preaching an exceed- 
 ingly desultory discourse to a sceptical audience of omnibus-cads 
 and nurse-maids on a tub, as we passed by. '• I cannot help it, 
 Sir," says she ; " I am the widow of an ofiicer of Britain's Navy : 
 I was taught to honour my Church and my King : and I cannot 
 bear a Badical, or a Dissenter." 
 
 A\"ith these fine principles I found Sackville Maine impressed. 
 " "Wagley," said he, to my introducer, " if no better engagement, 
 why shouldn't self and friend dine at the Oval ? Mr. Snob, Sir, 
 tlie mutton's coming off" the spit at this very minute. Laura and 
 Mrs. Chuff" (he said Laura r and Mrs. Chuff; but I hate people 
 who make remarks on these peculiarities of pronunciation), will 
 be most happy to see you ; and I can promise you a hearty wel- 
 come, and as good a glass of port-wine as any in England." 
 
 " This is better than dining at the Sarcophagus," thinks I to 
 myself, at which club Wagley and I had intended to take our 
 meal ; and so we accepted the kindly invitation, wlience arose 
 afterwards a considerable intimacy. 
 
 Everything about this family and house was so good-natured, 
 comfortable, and well-conditioned, that a Cynic would have ceased 
 to growl there. Mrs. Laura was all graciousness and smiles, and
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 157 
 
 looked to as great advautage in ber pretty morning gown as in licr 
 dress robe at Mrs. Perkins's. Mrs. Cbuff fired off ber stories 
 about tlie Nehuchachiexzar, 74i, the action between the Pitchfork 
 and the Furihonde — tlie heroic resistance of Captain Clioufieur, 
 and the quantity of snuff he took, &.C., &c. ; which, as they were 
 heard for the first time, were pleasanter than I have subsequently 
 found them. Sackville Maine was the best of hosts. He agreed 
 in everything everybody said, altering his opinions without the 
 slightest reservation upon the slightest possible contradiction. 
 He was not one of those beings who would emulate a Schonbein 
 or Friar Bacon, or act the part of an incendiary towards the 
 Thames, his neighbour — but a good, kind, simple, honest, easy, 
 fellow— in love with his wife — well-disposed to all the world — 
 content with himself, content even with his mother-in-law. Nelson 
 Collingwood, I remember, in the course of the evening, when 
 whiskey-and-water was for some reason produced, grew a little 
 tips3^ This did not in the least move Sackville's equanimity. 
 " Take him iip-stairs, Joseph," said he to the hobbadehoy, " and 
 — Joseph — don't tell his mamma." 
 
 What could make a man so happily disposed unhappy ? "What 
 could cause discomfort, bickering, and estrangement in a family 
 so friendly and united ? Ladies, it was not my fault — it was Mrs. 
 Chuff's doing — but the i-est of the tale you shall have on a future 
 day. 
 
 CHAPTEIi XLIII. 
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 
 
 The misfortune which befel the simple and good-natured young 
 Sackville, arose entirely from that abominable Sarcophagus Club ; 
 and that he ever entered it was partly the fault of the present 
 writer. 
 
 For seeing Mrs. Chufl', his mother-in-law, had a taste for the 
 genteel — (indeed, her talk was all about Lord Collingwood, Lord 
 Gambler, Sir Jahaleel Brenton, and the Gosport and Plymouth 
 balls) — Wagley and I, according to our wont, trumped her
 
 15S THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 conversation, and talked about Lords, Dukes, Marquises, and 
 Baronets, as if those dignitaries were our familiar friends, 
 
 *' Lord Sextonbury," says I, " seems to have recovered her 
 Ladyship's death. He and the Duke were very jolly over their 
 wine at the Sarcophagus last night ; weren't they, Wagley ? " 
 
 " Good fellow, the Duke," Wagley replied. " Pray Ma'am" (to 
 Mrs. Chuff), " you who know the world and etiquette, will you tell 
 me what a man ought to do in my case ? Last June, His Grace, 
 his son Lord Castlerampant, Tom Smith, and myself were dining 
 at the Club, when I offered the odds against Daddylonglegs for 
 the Derby — forty to one, in sovereigns only. His Grace took the 
 bet, and of course I won. He has never paid me. Now, can I 
 ask such a great man for a sovereign ? — One more lump of sugar, 
 if you please, my dear Madam." 
 
 It was lucky Wagley gave her tliis opportunity to elude the 
 question, for it prostrated the whole worthy family among whom 
 we were. They telegraphed each other with wondering eyes. 
 Mrs. Chuff's stories about the naval nobility grew quite faint : and 
 kind little Mrs. Sackville became uneasy, and went up-stairs to 
 look at the children — not at that young monster, Nelson Colling- 
 wood, who was sleeping off the whiskey-and- water — but at a couple 
 of little ones who had made their appearance at dessert, and of 
 whom she and Sackville were the happy parents. 
 
 The end of this and subsequent meetings with Mr. Maine was, 
 that we proposed and got him elected as a member of the Sarco- 
 phagus Club. 
 
 It was not done without a deal of opposition — the secret having 
 been whispered that the candidate was a coal-merchant. You may 
 be sure some of the proud people and most of the parvenus of the 
 Club were ready to black-ball him. We combated this opposition 
 successfully, however. We pointed out to the parvenus that the 
 Lambtons and the Stuarts sold coals : wc mollified the proud by 
 accounts of his good birth, good nature, and good behaviour ; and 
 AVagley went about on the day of election, describing with great 
 eloquence, the action between the Pitclifork and the Furibonde, 
 and the valour of Captain Maine, our friend's father. Tliere was 
 a slight mistake in t!ie narrative ; but we carried our man, with
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 15» 
 
 only a trifling sprinkling of black beans in the boxes : Byles's, of 
 course, who black-balls everybody : and Bung's, who looks down 
 upon a coal-merchant, having himself lately retired from the wine 
 trade. 
 
 Some fortnight afterwards I saw Sackville Maine under the 
 following circumstances : — 
 
 He was showing the Club to his family. He had brought them 
 thither in the light-blue fly, waiting at the Club door ; with Mrs» 
 Chufi''s hobbadehoy footboy on the box, by the side of tlie flyman,, 
 in a sham livery. Nelson Collingwood ; pretty Mrs. Sackville ; 
 Mrs. Captain Chufi" (Mrs. Commodore Chuff" we call her), were 
 all there ; the latter, of course, in the vermilion tabinet, which, 
 splendid as it is, is nothing in comparison to the splendour of the 
 Sarcophagus. The delighted Sackville Maine was pointing out 
 the beauties of the place to them. It seemed as beautiful as 
 Paradise to that little party. 
 
 The Sarcophagus displays every known variety of architecture 
 and decoration. The great library is Elizabethan; the small 
 library is pointed Gothic ; the diniug-room is severe Doric ; the 
 strangers' room has an Egyptian look ; the drawing-rooms are 
 Louis Quatorze (so called because the hideous ornaments displayed 
 were used in the time of Louis Quinze) ; the cortile, or hall, is 
 Morisco-Italian. It is all over marble, maplewood, looking-glasses, 
 arabesques, ormolu, and scagliola. Scrolls, ciphers, dragons^ 
 Cupids, polyanthuses, and other flowers writhe up the walls in 
 every kind of cornucopiosity. Eancy every gentleman in Jullien's 
 band playing with all his might, and each performing a different 
 tune ; the ornaments at our Club, the Sarcophagus, so bewilder 
 and affect me. Dazzled with emotions which I cannot describe, 
 and which she dared not reveal, Mrs. Chuff", followed by her 
 children and son-in-law, walked wondering amongst these blunder- 
 ing splendours. 
 
 In tlie great library (225 feet long by 150) the only man Mrs. 
 Chuff" saw, was Tiggs. He was lying on a crimson-velvet sofa, 
 reading a French novel of Pau.1 de Kock. It was a veiy little 
 book. He is a very little man. In that enormous hall he looked 
 like a mere speck. As the ladies passed breatliless and trembling 
 in the vastness of the magnificent solitude, he threw a knowing,
 
 160 THE BOOK OF SXOBS. 
 
 killing glance at the fair strangers, as much as to say, " Ain't I a 
 fine fellow ? " They thought so, I am sure. 
 
 " Wlio is tJiat /"' hisses out IMrs. Chuff, when we wei-e about 
 fifty yards off him at the other end of the room. 
 
 " Tiggs ! " says I, in a similar whisper. 
 
 " Pretty comfortable this, isn't it, my dear ? " says Maine in a 
 free and easy way to Mrs. Sackville ; " all the magazines, you 
 see — writing materials — new works — choice library, containing 
 every work of importance — what have we here ? — ' Dugdale's 
 Monasticon,' a most valuable, and I believe, entertaining book." 
 
 And proposing to take down one of the books for !Mrs. Maine's 
 inspection, he selected Volume YII., to which he was attracted by 
 the singular fact, that a brass door-handle grew out of the back. 
 Instead of pulling out a book, however, he pulled open a cupboard, 
 only inhabited by a lazy housemaid's broom and duster, at which 
 he looked exceedingly discomfited — while Nelson Collingwood, 
 losing all respect, burst into a roar of laughter. 
 
 " That's the rummest book I ever saw," says Xelson. " I wish 
 we'd no others at Merchant Tailors'." 
 
 '• Hush, jS'clson," cries Mrs. Chuft", and we went into the other 
 magnificent apartments. 
 
 How they did admire the drawing-room hangings (pink and 
 siver brocade, most excellent wear for London), and calculated the 
 price per yard ; and revelled on the luxurious sofas ; and gazed oji 
 the immeasurable looking-glasses. 
 
 '•' Pretty well to shave by, eh ? " says Maine to his mother-in- 
 law. (He was getting more abominably conceited every minute.) 
 " Get away, Sackville," says she, quite delighted, and threw a 
 glance over her shoulder, and spread out the wings of the red 
 tabinet, and took a good look at herself; so did Mrs. Sackville — 
 just one, and I thought the glass reflected a very smiling, pretty 
 creatiu'e. 
 
 But what's a woman at a looking-glass ? Bless the little dears, 
 it's their place. They fly to it naturally. It pleases them, and 
 they adorn it. AVhat I like to see, and watch with increasing joy 
 and adoration, is the Club men at the great looking-glasses. Old 
 Gills pushing up his collars and grinning at his own mottled face. 
 Hulker looking solemnly at his great person, and tightening his
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 161 
 
 coat to give himself a waist. Fred. Minchin simpering by as lie 
 is going out to dine, and casting upon the reflection of his white 
 neck-cloth a pleased moony smile. What a deal of vanity that 
 Club mirror has reflected, to be sure ! 
 
 Well, the ladies went through the whole establishment with 
 perfect pleasure. They beheld the coflfee-rooms, and the little tables 
 laid for dinner, and the gentlemen who were taking their lunch, 
 and old Jawkius thundering away as usual : they saw the reading- 
 rooms, and the rush for the evening papers ; they saw the kitchens 
 — those wonders of art — where the Chef vcas presiding over twenty 
 pretty kitchen-maids, and ten thousand shining saucepans : and 
 they got into tlie light-blue fly perfectly bewildered with pleasure. 
 
 Sackville did not enter it, though little Laura took the back 
 seat on purpose, and left him the front place alongside of Mrs, 
 Chuff's I'ed tabinet. 
 
 " We have your favourite dinner," says she, in a timid voice ; 
 " won't you come, Sackville ? " 
 
 "I shall take a chop here to-day, my dear," Sackville replied. 
 " Home, James." And he went up the steps of the Sarcophagus, 
 and the pretty lace looked very sad out of the carriage, as the blue 
 fly drove away. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIV. 
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 
 
 Why — why did I and AV^agley ever do so cruel an action, as to 
 introduce young Sackville Maine into that odious Sarcophagus ! 
 Let our imprudence and his example be a warning to other gents. ; 
 let his fate and that of his poor wife be remembered by every 
 British female. The consequences of his entering the Club were 
 as follow : — 
 
 One of the first vices the unhappy wretch acquired in this abode 
 of frivolity was that of smolcinr/. Some of the dandies of the Club, 
 such as the Marquis of Macabaw, Lord Doodeen, and fellows of 
 that high order, are in the habit of indulging in this propensity 
 up-stairs in the billiard-rooms of the Sarcophagus — and, partly to
 
 162 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 make their acquaintance, partly from a natural aptitude for crime, 
 Sackville Maine followed them, and became an adept in the odious 
 custom. "Where it is introduced into a family I need not say how 
 sad the consequences are, both to the furniture and the morals. 
 Sackville smoked in his dining-room at home, and caused an agony 
 to his wife and mother-in-law which I do not venture to describe. 
 He then became a professed billiard-player, wasting hours upon 
 hours at that amusement ; betting freely, playing tolerably, losing 
 awfully to Captain Spot and Col. Cannon. He played matches of 
 a hundred games with these gentlemen, and would not only con- 
 tinue until four or iive o'clock in the morning at this work, but 
 would be found at the Club of a forenoon, indulging himself to the 
 detriment of his business, the ruin of his health, and the neglect 
 of his wife. 
 
 Erom billiards to whist is but a step — and when a man gets to 
 whist and five pounds on the rubber, my opinion is, that it is all 
 up with him. How was the coal business to go on, and the con- 
 nexion of the firm to be kept up, and the senior partner always at 
 the card-table ? 
 
 Consorting now with genteel persons and Pall Mall bucks, 
 Sackville became ashamed of his snug little residence in Kenning- 
 ton Oval — and transported his family to Pimlico — where, though 
 Mrs. Chuff, his mother-in-law, was at first happy, as the quarter 
 was elegant and near her Sovereign, poor little Laura and the 
 children found a woeful difference. "Where were her friends who 
 came in with their work of a morning ? — At Kennington and in 
 the vicinity of Clapham. "Where were her children's little play- 
 mates ? — On Kennington Common. The great thundering car- 
 riages that roared up and down the drab-coloured streets of the 
 new quarter, contained no friends for the sociable little Laura. 
 The children that paced the squares, attended by a Bonne or a 
 prim governess, were not like those happy ones that flew kites, 
 or played hop-scotch, on the well-beloved old Common. And ah ! 
 what a difference at Church, too ! — between St. Benedict's of 
 Pimlico, with open seats, service in sing-song — tapers — albs — 
 surplices — garlands and processions, and the honest old ways of 
 Kennington ! The footmen, too, attending St. Benedict's, were 
 BO splendid and enormous, that James, Mrs. Chuff's boy, trembled
 
 CLUB SNOBS. 163 
 
 amongst tliem, and said he would give warning rather than carry 
 the books to that church any more. 
 
 The furnishing of the house was not done without expense. 
 
 And, ye gods ! what a difference there was between Sackville's 
 dreary French banquets in Pimlico, and the jolly dinners at the 
 Oval ! No more legs of mutton, no more of " the best port-wine 
 in England ; " but entrees on plate, and dismal twopenny cham- 
 pagne, and waiters in gloves, and the Club bucks for company — 
 among whom Mrs. Chuff was uneasy and Mrs. Sack-\alle quite 
 silent. 
 
 N^ot that he dined at home often. The wretch had become a 
 perfect epicure, and dined commonly at the Club with the 
 gormandising clique there ; with old Dr. Maw, Colonel Cramley 
 (who is as lean as a greyhound and has jaws like a,jack), and the 
 rest of them. Here you might see the wretch, tippling Sillery 
 champagne and gorging himself with French viands ; and I often 
 looked with sorrow from" my table (on which cold meat, the Club 
 small-beer, and a half-pint of Marsala form the modest banquet), 
 and sighed to think it was my work. 
 
 And there were other beings present to my repentant thoughts. 
 "Where's his wife, thought I ? "Where's poor, good, kind little 
 Laura ? At this very moment — it's about the nursery bed- time, 
 and while yonder good-for-nothing is swilling his wine — ^the little 
 ones are at Laura's knees lisping their prayers ; and she is teaching 
 them to say — "Pray God bless Papa." 
 
 When she has put them to bed, her day's occupation is gone ; 
 and she is utterly lonely all night, and sad, and waiting for him. 
 
 for shame ! for shame ! Go home, thou idle tippler. 
 
 How Saekville lost his health : how he lost his business ; how he 
 got into scrapes ; how he got into debt ; how he became a railroad 
 director ; how the Pimlico house was shut up ; how he went to 
 Boulogne, — all this I could tell, only I am too much ashamed of 
 my part of the transaction. They returned to England, because, 
 to the surprise of everybody, Mrs. Chuff came down with a great 
 sum of money (which nobody knew she had saved), and paid his 
 liabilities. He is in England ; but at Kennington. His name is 
 taken off the books of the Sarcophagus long ago. "When we 
 meet, he crosses over to the other side of the street ; and I don't 
 
 u 2
 
 164 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 call, as I should be sorry to see a look of reproach or sadness in 
 Laura's sweet face. 
 
 Not, however, all evil, as I am proud to tliinlc, has been the 
 influence of the Snob of England upon Clubs in general: — 
 Captain Shindy is afraid to bully the waiters any more, and 
 eats his mutton-chop without moving Acheron. Gobemouche 
 does not take more than two papers at a time for his private 
 reading. Tiggs does not ring the bell and cause the library- 
 waiter to walk about a quarter of a mile in order to give him 
 Vol. II., wliich lies on the next table. Growler has ceased to 
 walk from table to table in the coffee-room, and inspect Avhat 
 people are having for dinner. Trotty Veck takes his own 
 umbrella from the hall — the cotton one, and Sidney Scraper's 
 paletot lined \\:ith silk has been brought back by Jobbins, who 
 entirely mistook it for his own. "Waggle has discontinued telling 
 stories about the ladies he has killed. Snooks docs not any 
 more think it gentlemanlike to blackball attorneys. Snuffler no 
 longer publicly spreads out his great red cotton pocket-handker- 
 chief before the fire, for the admiration of two hundred gentlemen ; 
 and if one Club Snob has been brought back to the paths of 
 rectitude, and if one poor John has been spared a journey or a 
 scolding — say, friends and brethren, if these sketches of Club Snobs 
 have been in vain ? 
 
 CHAPTER LAST. 
 
 How it is that we have come to jS'o. 45 of this present series 
 of papers, my dear friends and brother Snobs, I hardly know — 
 but for a whole mortal year have we been together, prattling, and 
 abusing the human race; and were we to live for a hundred years 
 more, I believe there is plenty of subject for conversation in the 
 enormous theme of Snobs. 
 
 The national mind is awakened to the subject. Letters pour 
 in every day, couA'eying marks of sympathy ; directing the attention 
 of the Snob of England to races of Snobs yet undescribed. " Where 
 are your Theatrical Snobs ; your Commercial Snobs ; your Medical
 
 CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS ON SNOBS. 165 
 
 and Chirargical Snobs; your Official Snobs; your Legal Snobs ; your 
 Artistical Snobs ; your Musical Snobs; your Sporting Snobs?" 
 write my esteemed correspondents : " Surely you are not going to 
 miss tlie Cambridge Chancellor election, and omit showing up 
 your Don Snobs who are coming, cap in hand, to a young Prince 
 of six-and-twenty, and to implore him to be the chief of their 
 renowned University ? " writes a friend who seals with the signet 
 of the Cam and Isis Club: "Pray, pray," cries another, "now 
 the Operas are opening, give us a lectui'e about Omnibus Snobs." 
 Indeed, I should like to write a chapter about the Snobbish Dons 
 very much, and another about the Snobbish Dandies. Of my dear 
 Theatrical Snobs I think with a pang ; and I can hardly break 
 away from some Snobbish artists, with whom I have long, long 
 intended to have a palaver. 
 
 But what's the use of delaying ? "When these were done there 
 would be fresh Snobs to portray. The labour is endless. No 
 single man could complete it. Here are but fifty-two bricks — and 
 a pyramid to build. It is best to stop. As Jones always quits the 
 I'oom as soon as he has said his good thing, — as Cincinnatus and 
 General Washington both retired into private life in the height of 
 their popularity, — as Prince Albert, when he laid the first stone of 
 the Exchange, left the bricklayers to complete that edifice and 
 went home to his royal dinner, — as the poet Bunn comes forward 
 at the end of the season, and with feelings too tumultuous to 
 describe, blesses his Jcyind friends over the footlights : so, friends, 
 in the flush of conquest and the splendour of victory, amid the 
 shouts and the plaudits of a people — triumphant yet modest — the 
 Snob of England bids ye farewell. 
 
 But only for a season. Not for ever. No, no. There is one 
 celebrated autlior whoui I admire very much — who has been 
 taking leave of the public any time these ten years in his prefaces, 
 and always comes back again when everybody is glad to see him. 
 How can he have the heart to be saying good-bye, so often ? I 
 believe that Bunn is aftectod when he blesses the people. Parting 
 is always painful. Even the familiar bore is dear to you. I should 
 be sorry to shake hands even with Jawkins for the last time. I 
 think a well-constituted convict, on coming home from transpor- 
 tation, ought to be rather sad when he takes leave of Yau Diemen'a
 
 166 THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 Land. When the curtain goes down on the last night of a panto- 
 mine, poor old clown must be very dismal, depend on it. Ha ! 
 with what joy he rushes forward on the evening of the 26th of 
 December next, and says — "How are you? — Here we are!" 
 But I am growing too sentimental : — to return to the theme. 
 
 The national mind is awakened to the subject oe snobs. 
 The word Snob has taken a place in our honest English Vocabu- 
 lary. We can't define it, perhaps. We can't say what it is, any 
 more than we can define A¥it, or Humour, or Humbug ; but we 
 know what it is. Some weeks since, happening to have the felicity 
 to sit next to a young lady at a hospitable table, where poor old 
 Jawkins was holding forth in a very absurd pompous manner, I 
 wrote upon the spotless damask " S B," and called my neigh- 
 bour's attention to the little remark. 
 
 That young lady smiled. She knew it at once. Her mind 
 straightway filled up the two letters concealed by apostrophic 
 reserve, and I read in her assenting eyes that she knew Jawkins 
 was a Snob. Tou seldom get them to make use of the word as 
 yet, it is true ; but it is inconceivable how pretty an expression 
 their little smiling mouths assume when they speak it out. If any 
 young lady doubts, just let her go up to her own room, look at 
 herself steadily in the glass, and say " Snob." If she tries this 
 simple experiment, my life for it, she will smile, and own that the 
 word becomes her mouth amazingly. A pretty little round word, 
 all composed of soft letters, with a hiss at the beginning, just to 
 make it piquant, as it were. 
 
 Jawkins, meanwhile, went on blundering, and bragging, and 
 boring, quite unconsciously. And so he will, no doubt, go on 
 roaring and braying to the end of time, or at least so long as 
 people will hear him. Tou cannot alter the nature of men and 
 Snobs by any force of satire ; as, by haying ever so many stripes 
 on a donkey's back j'ou can't turn him into a zebra. 
 
 But we can warn the neighbourhood that the person whom they 
 and Jawkins admire is an impostor. AYe can apply the Snob test 
 to him, and try whether he is conceited and a quack, whether 
 pompous and lacking humility — whether uncharitable and proud 
 of his narrow soul. How does he treat a great man — how regard
 
 CONCLUDING OBSERVATIONS ON SNOBS. 167 
 
 a small one ? How does he comport himself in the presence of 
 His Grace the Duke ; and how in that of Smith, the tradesman ? 
 
 And it seems to me that all English society is cursed by this 
 mammoniacal superstition ; and that we are sneaking and bowing 
 and cringing on the one hand, or bullying and scorning on the 
 other, from the lowest to the highest. My wife speaks with great 
 circumspection — "proper pride," she calls it — to our neighbour 
 the tradesman's lady ; and she, I mean Mrs. Snob, — Eliza — would 
 give one of her eyes to go to Court, as her cousin the Captain's 
 wife did. She, again, is a good soul, but it costs her agonies to be 
 obliged to confess that we live in Upper Thompson Street, Somer's 
 Town. And though I believe in her heart INIrs. AVhiskerington is 
 fonder of us than of her cousins, the Smigsmags, you should hear 
 how she goes on prattling about Lady Smigsmag, — and " I said to 
 Sir John, my dear John; " and about the Smigsmags' house and 
 parties in Hyde Park Terrace. 
 
 Lady Smigsmag, when she meets Eliza, — who is a sort of a kind 
 of a species of a connexion of the family, pokes out one finger, 
 which my wife is at liberty to embrace in the most cordial manner 
 she can devise. But, oh, you should see her ladyship's behaviour 
 on her first-chop dinner-party days, when Lord and Lady Long- 
 ears come ! 
 
 I can bear it no longer — this diabolical invention of gentility 
 which kills natural kindliness and lionest friendship. Proper 
 pride, indeed ! Eank and precedence, forsooth ! The table of 
 ranks and degrees is a lie and should be flung into the fire. 
 Organise rank and precedence ! that was well for the masters of 
 ceremonies of former ages. Come forward, some great marshal, 
 and organise Equality in society, and your rod sliall swallow up all 
 the juggHng old court gold-sticks. If this is not gospel-truth — 
 if the world does not tend to this — if hereditary-great-man wor- 
 ship is not a humbug and an idolatry — let us have the Stuarts 
 back again, and crop the Pree Press's cars in the pillory. 
 
 If ever our cousins, the Smigsmags, asked me to meet Lord 
 Longears, I would like to take an opportunity after dinner and 
 say, in the most good-natured way in the world : — Sir, Portune 
 makes you a present of a number of thousand pounds every year 
 The ineffable wisdom of our ancestors has placed you as a chief'
 
 IGS THE BOOK OF SNOBS. 
 
 and hereditary legislator over inc. Our admirable Constitution 
 (the pride of Britons and envy of surrounding nations) obliges me 
 to receive you as my senator, superior, and guardian. Your eldest 
 son, Fitz-Heehaw, is sure of a place in parliament ; your younger 
 sons, the De Brays, will kindly condescend to be post-captains and 
 lieutenant-colonels, and to represent us in foreign courts or to take 
 a good living when it falls convenient. These prizes our admirable 
 Constitution (the pride and envy of, &c.) pronounces to be your 
 due ; without count of your duluess, your vices, your selfishness ; 
 or your entire incapacity and folly. Dull as you may be (and we 
 have as good a right to assume that my lord is an ass, as the other 
 proposition, that he is an enlightened patriot) ; — dull, I say, as you 
 may be, no one will accuse you of such monstrous folly, as to sup- 
 pose that you are indifferent to the good luck which you possess, 
 or have any inclination to part witli it. No — and patriots as we 
 are, under happier circumstances. Smith and I, I have no doubt, 
 were we dukes ourselves, would stand by our order. 
 
 "We would submit good-naturedly to sit in a high place. We 
 would acquiesce in that admirable Constitution (pride and envy 
 of, &c.) which made us chiefs and the world our inferiors ; we 
 would not cavil particularly at that notion of hereditary superi- 
 ority which brought so many simple people cringing to our knees. 
 May be we would rally round the Corn-Laws ; we would make a 
 stand against the Eeform Bill ; we Avould die rather than repeal 
 the acts against Catholics and Dissenters ; we would, by our noble 
 system of class-legislation, bring Ireland to its present admirable 
 condition. 
 
 But Smith and I are not Earls as yet. We don't believe that 
 it is for the interest of Smith's army that young De Bray should 
 be a Colonel at five-and-twenty, — of Smith's diplomatic relations 
 that Lord Longears should go Ambassador to Constantinople, — 
 of our politics, that Longears should put his hereditary foot into 
 them. 
 
 This booing and cringing Smith believes to be the act of Snobs ; 
 and he will do all in his might and main to be a Snob and to sub- 
 mit to Snobs no longer. To Longears he says, " We can't help 
 seeing, Longears, that we are as good as you. We can spell even 
 better ; we can think quite as rightly ; we will not have you for
 
 CONCLUDINa OBSERVATIONS ON SNOBS. 169 
 
 our master, or black your shoes any more. Tour footmen do it, 
 but they are paid ; and the fellow who comes to get a list of the 
 company when you give a banquet or a dancing breakfast at 
 Longueoreille House, gets money from the newspapers for per- 
 forming that service. But for us, thank you for nothing, Long- 
 ears, my boy, and we don't wish to pay you any more than we 
 owe. We will take off our hats to AVellington because he is 
 "Wellington ; but to you — who are you ? " 
 
 I am sick of Court Circulars. I loathe haut-ton intelligence. I 
 believe such Avords as Fashionable, Exclusive, Aristocratic, and the 
 like, to be wicked, unchristian epithets, that ought to be banished 
 from honest vocabularies. A court system, that sends men of genius 
 to the second table, I hold to be a snobbish system. A society that 
 sets up to be polite, and ignores Arts and Letters, I hold to be a 
 Snobbish Society. Tou, who despise your neighbour, are a Snob ; 
 you, who forget your own friends, meanly to follow after those of 
 a higher degree, are a Snob ; you, who are ashamed of your 
 poverty, and blush for your calling, are a Snob ; as are you who 
 boast of your pedigree, or are proud of your wealth. 
 
 To laugh at such is Mr. Funcli's business. May he laugh 
 honestly, hit no foul blow, and tell the truth when at his very 
 broadest grin — never forgetting that if Fun is good, Truth is still 
 better, and Love best of all. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 bradbi:p.t and evan?, trtnter^ wiiitefrtajis.
 
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