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<h2> CHAPTER XXV—A VISIT TO SOME COUNTRY SNOBS </h2>
<p>Of the dinner to which we now sat down, I am not going to be a severe
critic. The mahogany I hold to be inviolable; but this I will 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. Nor was it
particularly good of its kind; however, Mrs. Major Ponto did not evidently
know the difference, 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.</p>
<p>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 maidservant, but the sensations of Londoners are too
acute perhaps on these subjects; and a faithful John, after all, IS more
genteel.</p>
<p>From the circumstance of the dinner being composed of pig's-head
mock-turtle soup, of pig'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 WAS rather a sameness in it, certainly. I made a similar remark the
next day'.</p>
<p>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 cordonbleu for
the roasts, an Italian for the confectionery?'</p>
<p>'Who attended at Lady Clapperclaw's conversazioni?' and 'whether Sir John
Champignon's "Thursday Mornings" were pleasant?' 'Was it true that Lady
Carabas, wanting to pawn her diamonds, found that they were paste, and
that the Marquis had disposed of them beforehand?' '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 forbade the match?'</p>
<p>'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 KNOW you're one of the fashionable people about town:
we saw your name at Lady Clapperclaw's SOIREES, and the Champignon
breakfasts; and as for the Rubadubs, of course, as relations —-'</p>
<p>'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 MORNING POST at the
tag-end of several party lists. So, taking the hint, I am ashamed to say I
indulged Mrs. Major Ponto with a deal of information about the first
families in England, such as would astonish those great personages if they
knew it. I described to her most accurately 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.</p>
<p>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, UNG PU DE MUSICK O SALONG—with which she tripped off
like an elderly fairy.</p>
<p>'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 what I had been led to expect from him at our
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
Mangelwurzelshire, Snob my boy, and I'll give you as good a day's shooting
and as good a glass of claret as any in the county.'—'Well,' I said,
'I like Hollands much better than port, and gin even better than
Hollands.' This was lucky. It WAS gin; and Stripes brought in hot water on
a splendid plated tray.</p>
<p>The jingling of a harp and piano soon announced that Mrs. Ponto's ung PU
DE MUSICK had 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.</p>
<p>'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.</p>
<p>'You recognize those polkas? They were played at Devonshire House on the
23rd of July, the day of the grand f�te.' So I said yes—I knew 'em
quite intimately; and began wagging my head as if in acknowledgment of
those old friends.</p>
<p>When the performance was concluded, I had the felicity of a presentation
and conversation with the two tall and scraggy Miss Pontos; and Miss Wirt,
the governess, sat down to entertain us with variations on 'Sich a gettin'
up Stairs.' They were determined to be in the fashion.</p>
<p>For the performance of the 'Gettin' up Stairs,' I have no other name but
that it was a STUNNER. First Miss Wirt, with great deliberation, played
the original and beautiful melody, cutting it, as it were, out of the
instrument, and firing off each note so loud, clear, and sharp, that I am
sure Stripes must have heard it in the stable.</p>
<p>'What a finger!' says Mrs. Ponto; and indeed it WAS 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 different manner of 'Gettin' up
Stairs,' and did so with a fury and swiftness 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 gettin' 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 sat and listened with my mouth open
to this wonderful display, my CAFFY 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.</p>
<p>'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 Wirt'—and
the young ladies gave a heave and a gasp of admiration—a
deep-breathing gushing sound, such as you hear at church when the sermon
comes to a full stop.</p>
<p>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. When I lived with the
Dunsinanes, 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, with not more than fifteen thousand a year, I persuaded
Jane to have him. Do you know Castletoddy, Mr. Snob?—round 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 Anglesey, "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 POUR TOUT POTAGE!'</p>
<p>'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.</p>
<p>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 rosebud, 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.</p>
<p>'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.</p>
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