460 PRESTWOOD PAPERS. BY FRANCIS JACOX. VII.-ABOUT MONSIEUR JOURDAIN: AS REGARDS (1) HIS MERCANTILE PEDIGREE; (2) HIS UNCONSCIOUS FACILITY IN PROSE; AND (3) HIS FENCING BOUT WITH NICOLE. § 1. RIGHT eagerly and gratefully poor Monsieur Jourdain catches at Covielle's assurance that his, the Bourgeois Gentilhomme's, father, was a gentilhomme himself. Capital and comforting news. But then it is news. For Monsieur Jourdain is quite aware of, and hitherto has acquiesced in, the prevalent impression that his father was a marchand. He, a shopkeeper! exclaims Covielle: it is sheer malice to say so. He never was anything of the kind. The fact is that this alleged marchand was very obliging, ever ready to serve you; and that as he happened to be well acquainted with the value of goods, he used to go about selecting them in all quarters, had them brought home, and gave them away to his friends for money.* Lui, marchand? C'est pure médisance. And of course M. Jourdain is ravished at becoming known to one who can, and will, maintain before all the world, on the above showing, that his father was no shopkeeper, no marchand, but a veritable gentleman. Trader, indeed! What had such dealings as his to do with trade? The author of "Ireland before the Union" having, in a previous work, spoken of Lord Carleton as "the son of a trader in Cork," a member of the family, he informs us, thus wrote to him by way of reproachful protest: "You are quite right, as far as I am aware, if by trader you mean merchant; but . . . . it sounds acrimonious and severe. Why use the equivocal and worse-sounding word in lieu of its univocal and better-sounding, viz. merchant, which by conventionality of opinion has been raised to represent a better association of ideas than that of trader."† Swift's Irish Lord Mayor, Sir Michael Creagh, is made to talk with another alderman, in the style of Molière's burgess as regards feu monsieur son père. The alderman is making pointed inquiries into his friend's parentage, and rather demurs to Sir Michael's assurance, uttered in lofty and peremptory style, "My father was a worthy gentleman, inferior to none of his rank, upon my honour"-a safe assertion enough, but equivocal, or because equivocal. "Adsheartikens, you may be mistaken in that," says the other. "Mistaken?" rejoins Sir Michael; "No, sir; he was a travelling merchant; one that saw more towns than you have done chimneys." Ald. But under favour, Sir Michael, I have heard scolards say he was a losopher. Sir M. Ay, that may be too: he always took delight to carry books about with him. Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, Acte IV. Sc. 5. + Ireland before the Union, by W. J. Fitzpatrick. Ald. But take me along with you: you reprehend me not: they say he carried books on his back. Sir M. I say, I say, he was a north country merchant, as I told you before. Come, drink your wine, and let us be gone.* Nor is this Swift's only contribution to the literature of our subject. He indites a letter from a reputed esquire to the King at Arms, in which the writer supports his claim to be what he is reputed, by stating his father to have been a leader and commander of horse, in which post he rode before the greatest lords of the land [a postilion]; in long marches, he alone presiding over the baggage, advancing directly before it; while the esquire's mother kept open house in Dublin, where several hundreds were supported with meat and drink bought at her own charge, or with her personal credit, until some envious brewers and butchers forced her to retire. She kept an eating-house, in fact. Some of Cromwell's more devoted admirers are strenuous in explaining away the alleged fact of his father being a brewer: he "kept his brewhouse in Huntingdon," Roger Coke says. They explain that the brook of Hinchin, running through Robert Cromwell's premises, offered clear convenience for malting or brewing; and that the house was occupied, before it came into his possession, by a Mr. Philip Clam as a brewer. What more likely than that Robert Cromwell brewed his own beer and that of the labourers on his lands? The convenience of the brook, observes Mr. Langton Sanford, and of the brewing apparatus, may also have induced him to brew for some of his neighbours while brewing for himself; and hence may have arisen, naturally enough, the stories among the Royalists of his having been a "brewer by trade," a thing essentially different.‡ Malone traces the origin of venison being sold by fishmongers to the circumstance that many noblemen, having more bucks than they had occasion for, wished to dispose of them, but were ashamed to take money, and therefore sent them to their fishmongers, receiving fish in return. At the time of Malone's writing this practice was some forty years old, and the fishmongers, he said, still continued to sell venison, though no longer obtaining it in the same way. "For the owners of parks now feel no reluctance in receiving cash for a certain number of bucks every season at a stipulated price."§ Pawnbroking, it has been said, if not a very noble, is a very lucrative business, and of undoubted antiquity; the professors of which ought to be, and are, men of great shrewdness, with a varied knowledge of arts and manufactures; who see all sorts of people, high and low, coming to their shrines, and yet are ashamed of their business, and almost universally hang the three golden pills—" the arms of the Medici, the first merchants of Lombardy; for the Monti di Pieta, as the first pawnbroking esta*Swift's Prose Works: A Tripos. Letter to the King at Arms, 1721. "It is no small additional argument against the truth of that form of the story, that Oliver himself, who was above all foolish feelings of pride which could induce him to conceal it, has never on any occasion alluded to his father or himself having been engaged in any business."-Studies and Illustrations of the Great Rebellion, ch. iv. § Maloniana. blishments were called, had their origin in that kingdom"-as high as they can, and as far as possible out of common ken, and call themselves jewellers and silversmiths.* The same writer complains that, on the same "false principle of respectability," innkeepers and publicans call themselves hotel-keepers and licensed victuallers; and that while we have refreshment-bars and luncheon-rooms in plenty, there are not many proprietors wise enough to retain the good old direct name of "chophouse." When Pitt and Wilberforce were touring it on the Continent, they called at Rheims on M. Coustier, with a letter of introduction from the great Peter Thellusson. Driving to the hotel of M. Coustier, "it was with some surprise," writes Mr. Wilberforce, " that we found him behind a counter distributing raisins. I had heard that it was very usual for gentlemen on the Continent to practise some handicraft of trade or other for their amusement, and therefore, for my own part, I concluded that his taste was in the fig way, and that he was only playing at grocer for his amusement; and, viewing the matter in this light, I could not help admiring the excellence of his imitation." A genuine grocer, however, was M. Coustier. But he was un brave homme to boot, and at the request of milords Anglais mounted his wig and sword, and ushered them to the house of one of his best customers among the noblesse.† Sir Martin Archer Shee's son and biographer was twitted with perpetually intruding references to the "dynastic pretensions" and general grandeur of the O'Shee family. "Sir Martin's father, who was a Dublin tradesman a fact which the author seems to try to disguise in the volumes before us under a hundred euphemistic periphrases-instilled into his son, along with many admirable principles, a belief in the moral superiority inseparable from ancient lineage,'" &c. His fellow townsman, Tom Moore, made no such essay to disguise the quality of his pedigree in euphemistic periphrases; as where he says, "I have a pretty clear recollection of little old Tom Codd, my grandfather, as well of some sort of weaving machinery in the room up-stairs. My mother used to say he was a provision merchant, which sounded well, and I have no doubt he may have been concerned in that trade, but I suspect that he was also a weaver."§ Mrs. Pringle, in one of the "Handley Cross" novels, having established herself in a very handsome, commodious house in Belgravia, and such a mansion being clearly more than she could personally require, "she sometimes accommodated the less fortunate through the medium of. a house-agent, though both he and she always begged it to be distinctly understood that she did not let lodgings, but apartments;' and she always requested that the consideration might be sent to her in a sealed envelope by the occupants, in the same manner as she transmitted them the bill." To judge by advertisements of private "seminaries," duty, not gain, it has been remarked, is the sublime motive of the ladyadvertisers, every one of whom must be at least a mère angélique: just "They might, in the majority of cases, call themselves hosiers and glovers, or cabinet and pianoforte-makers."-About in the World, § ix. † Stephens's Eccles. Essays: Wilberforce. Sat. Rev., x. 84. § Diary of Thomas Moore, Aug. 1835. as every boarding-house keeper is only in want of an addition to the domestic circle, and disregards altogether the pecuniary aspect of the transaction, so there are few schoolmistresses who do not make it appear* that it is only as a matter of religious principle, just faintly coloured by a meek and mild infusion of self-denial, that they wish to receive into their family two or three little girls. 66 of Mr. Riley, in the "Mill on the Floss," when urging the honest miller, in a roundabout fashion, to send Tom to a private tutor, in the person his reverend acquaintance, Mr. Stelling, is scrupulous to repudiate the idea of school or schoolmaster in that connexion. "He's an Oxford man," says Mr. Riley, sententiously, shutting his mouth close, and looking at Mr. Tulliver to observe the effect of this stimulating information. "What! a parson?" said Mr. Tulliver, rather doubtfully." Yes, and an M.A. The bishop, I understand, thinks very highly of him: why, it was the bishop who got him his present curacy." "Ah!" said Mr. Tulliver, to whom one thing was as wonderful as another concerning these unfamiliar phenomena. "But what can he want wi' Tom, then?" Why, the fact is, he's fond of teaching, and wishes to keep up his studies, and a clergyman has but little opportunity for that in his parochial duties. He's willing to take one or two boys as pupils to fill up his time profitably." It is like the compact between Mr. Dorrit and Mrs. General, when that accomplished lady undertakes the charge of the Misses Dorrit; a charge she can only accept on terms of perfect equality, as a companion, protector, Mentor, and friend. As to terms of another sort-"Might I be excused," said Mr. Dorrit, "if I inquired what Why, indeed," returned Mrs. General, stopping the word, "it is a subject on which I prefer to avoid entering. I have never entered on it with my friends here; and I cannot overcome the delicacy, Mr. Dorrit, with which I have always regarded it. I am not, as I hope you are aware, a governess"O dear, no!" said Mr. Dorrit. Pray, madam, do not imagine for a moment that I think so." He really blushed to be suspected of it. Again, when Mrs. Finching adverts to her having employed Little Dorrit in needlework, in days when the Father of the Marshalsea was supported by such labours, ignore them as he might" Madam," says Mr. Dorrit, recovering his breath by a great effort, and looking very red in the face, "if I understand you to refer to-ha-to anything in the antecedents of a daughter of mine, involving-ha hum-daily compensation, madam, I beg to observe that the-ha-fact, assuming it-ha-to be fact, never was within my knowledge. Hum. I should not have permitted it. Ha. Never! Never!"§ So with Mrs. Sparsit and Mr. Bounderby, in a previous work from the same pen. The lady housekeeper interposes a remonstrance against her employer's casual allusion to "terms," and mildly protests, "I beg your remune 66 * Every such mère angélique "sacrifices herself for the good of her species-the minor considerations of £. s. d. she adroitly veils. And then observe the elegant periphrase under which she hints that there is enough to eat for dinner, and that washing and backboards are attended to-liberal domestic arrangements and physical training' being schoolmistress's English for twice meat and frequent walks."-Sat. Rev., vi. 128. The Mill on the Floss, ch. iii. § Ibid., ch. xvii. pardon, sir. You were so good as to promise that you would always substitute the phrase, annual compliment."* When the abbot of Scott's "Monastery" understands the Euphuist to mean by his "fair friend" the "daughter of our Convent's miller”— "Reverend my lord," answers Sir Piercie, not without hesitation, "the fair Mysinda is, as may be in some sort alleged, the daughter of one who mechanically prepareth corn to be manipulated into bread, without which we could not exist, and which is therefore an employment in itself honourable, nay, necessary."+ Mr. Green Jones, in the play, in his reduced position as a vendor of sheep trotters, is euphemised by his wife into "a sort of sheep farmer."+ The Major in "Ask Mamma" is described as always ready for a deal, and willing to accommodate matters to people's convenience; he would take part cash, part corn, part hay, part anything, for he was a most miscellaneous barterer, and his stable loft was like a marine store-dealer's shop. But although he would traffic in anything (on the sly) by which he thought he could turn a penny, he always boasted that his little white hands were not "soiled with trade."§ So, or nearly so, with Scampa in Mr. Landor's dialogue with the Italian Picture-dealers. "I am not a dealer in pictures: I only sell when any one takes a fancy to this or that; and merely to show that we in Bologna are as condescending and polite to strangers as the people of Rome or Florence."|| Mascarille as the Marquis, assures the précieuses, in his capacity of madrigal-maker, that he does not publish for publishing's sake, but seulement pour donner à gagner aux libraires qui me persécutent.¶ : Endless are the changes that might be rung on euphemisms, periphrases, and equivocations, of this and cognate kinds. One example more. When Robert Audley, in Miss Braddon's novel, takes "my lady" to the Belgian maison de santé, and calls it by that name when asked by her if it is not a Mad-house-“ A maison de santé," she repeats "yes, they manage these things better in France. In England we should call it a mad-house. This is a house for mad people, this, is it not, Madame?" she says, in French, turning to the woman who has received them, and tapping the polished floor with her foot.—“Ah, but no, Madame," is the woman's reply, with a shrill scream of protest. "It is an establishment of the most agreeable, where one amuses oneselfMa guarda e passa. * Hard Times, ch. xvi. The Monastery, ch. xxxvii. Mrs. Willoughby. Mr. St. Evremont-what's he a doin'? Emily (getting between Mrs. W. and the basket). As a sort of sheep farmer. Ş Chap. xxvi. Ticket-of-Leave Man, Act IV. Sc. 2. Landor's Imaginary Conversations: The Cardinal-legate Albani and Picture dealers. Molière's Les Précieuses ridicules, sc. x. |