CHAPTER LXXXIX
THE DUKE OF TERGIVERSATION’S VISITING LIST
THE Juvenile day will have prepared our readers for the approach of that festive season, when bitter frosts, and tradesmen’s bills, are supposed to promote hilarity, and when those who have anything to give away think that now is the time for doing it. Christmas, in short, was coming; though it is but justice to the Comet year to say, that it was a very different winter to the one that succeeded it. Indeed, the Comet year had no winter at all. Be it remembered, that with its successor (1859-60) the first fall of snow was on the 21st of October, and the last on the 28th of May—the week after Epsom.
Among those who were anxious to increase their difficulties in this our Comet year was our noble friend, the Duke of Tergiversation, who thought to propitiate tradesmen, and smooth all parties over with a ball and supper. Perhaps he was moved to this end by a desire to get rid of our fox-shooting friend, the Prince Pirouetteza, who, independently of being always in the way, was not quite so cleanly in his habits as the Duke could wish. And though his Grace had no objection to helping Lady Honoria Hopkins to a husband, he did not want to be the victim of a procrastinated courtship. So he determined to try what a ball and supper would do in the way of acceleration.
We often think it must be a difficult thing for a great man to find the exact equator of his visiting list—the broad line of demarcation that admits happy Brown and yet excludes poor pouting Jones and Robinson. The Duke and Duchess of Tergiversation managed their popularity matters upon a sort of debtor and creditor principle, those from whom they expected to get anything being sure to be asked, while those who had been used were postponed for further consideration, or until it was seen what the first shower of cards produced.
The process of filtration somewhat resembled the passing of a bill through Parliament, the measure originating in the Lower House, viz., in that of Mr. Cucumber, who, with the aid of his old visiting lists, arranged a new one of all the producible people in the country, with such observations as occurred to him in the course of his references to poll-books, and the notes he kept of the conversations he heard or what other people told him. To this he added a supplementary list of officers and parties who might be brought from a distance, a ball at a Castle being always very attractive. The list was then presented to his Grace, who went through the names seriatim, hearing the pros and cons on each party, and finally handing it to the Duchess, who went through it in her own fashion, perhaps restoring names that the Duke had struck out, and striking out names that the Duke had retained. A dissolution of Parliament appearing probable, and the Duke having certain ambitious views on the county, the list was now scanned with more than ordinary care and attention, his Grace and Mr. Cucumber devoting a whole morning to the subject. The A’s were disposed of without any difficulty.
His Grace then turned over the page and got among the B’s—Berrys, Beauchamps, Bedfords, Binks, Browns, Brews, Bushells, Butterwells, Bedingfields, Beningboroughs, Bowderoukins, Mr. and Mrs. “Well, now, what are the Bowderonkin’s queried for?” asked the Duke.
“Bowderonkins, Bowderonkins—’scuse me—but I think the name will be Roukins, Bowderoukins,” replied Mr. Cucumber glancing at the list as he spoke.
“Bowderoukins it is,” assented his Grace, looking at it again. “Well, what is the objection to the Bowderoukins?”
“No objection whatever, your Grace, that I know of; only they have not been here before.”
“Haven’t they? There will be some reason for that then. Turn to the poll-book, and see how he voted.”
“He was not on the Register at the last election, your Grace,” replied Mr. Cucumber.
“Is he now?”
“Yes, your Grace.”
“And nothing against him?”
“Nothing whatever, your Grace.”
“Have them by all means,” replied the Duke. “Secure him against another time, you know;” so saying, the Duke struck his pen through the query, and proceeded with the list.
“Boyston,” presently read his Grace. “Boyston, Boyston; is that the gentleman they call the Jug?”
“It is, your Grace,” smiled Mr. Cucumber.
“What is there a query to his name for?” asked the Duke.
“Oh, that is for the Duchess,” replied Mr. Cucumber. “Her Grace objected to his nankin trowsers on a former occasion, and that is merely to draw her Grace’s attention to the name.”
“Well, we will leave the Duchess to settle the point herself,” said the Duke, passing on, adding, he “Musn’t come without something of the sort at all events.”
“Certainly not, your Grace,” replied Mr. Cucumber with an emphasis.
“Bunting,—who is Mr. Bunting?” now asked the Duke.
“Mr. Bunting is a very genteel young gentleman, who is down suitoring Miss McDermott of Privett Grove.”
“Ah, the little blue-eyed girl, who comes out hunting?” observed the Duke.
“The same,” replied Mr. Cucumber.
“I thought she was going to marry the banker’s son,” observed his Grace.
“Well, it’s between the two,” rejoined Mr. Cucumber; “even betting I believe which gets her.”
“You are sure Mr. Bunting is all right?” said the Duke, adding, “I shouldn’t like to have any convict captains1 down here.”
“Oh, all right, all right,” replied Mr. Cucumber, confidently. “I’ve ascertained all that—quite the gentleman, quite the gentleman.”
So Mr. Bunting was passed for a ticket, subject of course to the approval of the Duchess.
The B’s being disposed of with Mr. Bunting, the C’s came next. The Crofts, the Cranes, the Cambos, the Churchhills, the Cheadles, the Cutlers, the Coopers, the Cottons, the Chatterleys.
“Well, what are Chatterleys queried for?” asked the Duke.
“The Chatterleys are queried, your Grace, because you struck them off after the last fête. Mr. Chatterley voted wrong.”
“Then if they were struck off before, what occasion is there to put them on this list?” asked the Duke.
“They have been presented at Court since,” replied Mr. Cucumber.
“Have they?” replied the Duke; “so much the worse; shows they don’t know their places—shan’t come here.” His Grace striking his pen through their names, saying, “Every pig-jobber goes to Court now-a-days.”
The unhappy Chatterleys, Mr., Mrs., and two Misses, being thus summarily disposed of, the Duke proceeded with the list, retaining of course the names of our friends the Goldspinks, Mr., Mrs., and Mr. Junior; also the McDermotts, Mrs. and Miss, Mr. Jovey Jessop, and many others in whom the reader will take no interest.
When his Grace at length arrived at the W’s, and found the name of Mr. Brown White alone, he paused, for he recollected Black White’s gallant riding with Mr. Jovey Jessop’s hounds, and thought he ought to be rewarded.
“Mr. Black White’s name not down,” observed his Grace, looking up at Mr. Cucumber.
“Mr. Black White,—Mr. Black White; no, your Grace. Mr. Black White’s name is not down. Your Grace said none of the neck-of-venison gentlemen need be put on to the ball list.”
“Well,” said the Duke, “I suppose there would be some reason for it. However,
‘To err is human, to forgive divine.’
We will advance Black White this time;” so saying, his Grace added Mr. Black White’s name to the list of guests.
“Mrs. Black White, then—would your Grace put Mrs. Black White on?”
“Mrs. Black White? No, certainly not,” replied the Duke; “got a brandy nose and wears a bad front. Can’t bear a woman with a brandy nose and a bad front.” So Mrs. Black White was rejected.
The important document was then ready for the Duchess’ inspection, upon whom Mr. Cucumber waited, and went through it again, explaining the additions and objections—Bowderoukins, Chatterleys, Nankins, Black White, and all. When the Duchess inquired for Mrs. Black White, and heard the reason why she had been rejected, her Grace placed her name on the list, saying, “What has the Duke to do with her bad front?” adding, “she may not always wear the same one, you know.” So Mrs. Black White was rescued at the last stage. The list being thus duly passed, a suitable number of imposing-looking cards were then produced, and the process of filling up the invitations commenced, and proceeded to the usual postal conclusion. Great was the emptying of the Castle bag into the country post-office, it being no longer thought derogatory, as it once was, to send invitations by other than a special messenger.
