The History of Samuel Titmarsh

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THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
AND THE
THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND


LONDON
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.
1911




CHAPTER I


GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF OUR VILLAGE AND THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE DIAMOND

When I came up to town for my second year, my aunt Hoggarty made me a
present of a diamond-pin; that is to say, it was not a diamond-pin then,
but a large old-fashioned locket, of Dublin manufacture in the year 1795,
which the late Mr. Hoggarty used to sport at the Lord Lieutenant's balls
and elsewhere. He wore it, he said, at the battle of Vinegar Hill, when
his club pigtail saved his head from being taken off,--but that is
neither here nor there.

In the middle of the brooch was Hoggarty in the scarlet uniform of the
corps of Fencibles to which he belonged; around it were thirteen locks of
hair, belonging to a baker's dozen of sisters that the old gentleman had;
and, as all these little ringlets partook of the family hue of brilliant
auburn, Hoggarty's portrait seemed to the fanciful view like a great fat
red round of beef surrounded by thirteen carrots. These were dished up
on a plate of blue enamel, and it was from the GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND (as
we called it in the family) that the collection of hairs in question
seemed as it were to spring.

My aunt, I need not say, is rich; and I thought I might be her heir as
well as another. During my month's holiday, she was particularly pleased
with me; made me drink tea with her often (though there was a certain
person in the village with whom on those golden summer evenings I should
have liked to have taken a stroll in the hayfields); promised every time
I drank her bohea to do something handsome for me when I went back to
town,--nay, three or four times had me to dinner at three, and to whist
or cribbage afterwards. I did not care for the cards; for though we
always played seven hours on a stretch, and I always lost, my losings
were never more than nineteenpence a night: but there was some infernal
sour black-currant wine, that the old lady always produced at dinner, and
with the tray at ten o'clock, and which I dared not refuse; though upon
my word and honour it made me very unwell.

Well, I thought after all this obsequiousness on my part, and my aunt's
repeated promises, that the old lady would at least make me a present of
a score of guineas (of which she had a power in the drawer); and so
convinced was I that some such present was intended for me, that a young
lady by the name of Miss Mary Smith, with whom I had conversed on the
subject, actually netted me a little green silk purse, which she gave me
(behind Hicks's hayrick, as you turn to the right up Churchyard
Lane)--which she gave me, I say, wrapped up in a bit of silver paper.
There was something in the purse, too, if the truth must be known. First
there was a thick curl of the glossiest blackest hair you ever saw in
your life, and next there was threepence: that is to say, the half of a
silver sixpence hanging by a little necklace of blue riband. Ah, but I
knew where the other half of the sixpence was, and envied that happy bit
of silver!

The last day of my holiday I was obliged, of course, to devote to Mrs.
Hoggarty. My aunt was excessively gracious; and by way of a treat
brought out a couple of bottles of the black currant, of which she made
me drink the greater part. At night when all the ladies assembled at her
party had gone off with their pattens and their maids, Mrs. Hoggarty, who
had made a signal to me to stay, first blew out three of the wax candles
in the drawing-room, and taking the fourth in her hand, went and unlocked
her escritoire.

I can tell you my heart beat, though I pretended to look quite
unconcerned.

"Sam my dear," said she, as she was fumbling with her keys, "take another
glass of Rosolio" (that was the name by which she baptised the cursed
beverage): "it will do you good." I took it, and you might have seen my
hand tremble as the bottle went click--click against the glass. By the
time I had swallowed it, the old lady had finished her operations at the
bureau, and was coming towards me, the wax-candle bobbing in one hand and
a large parcel in the other.

"Now's the time," thought I.

"Samuel, my dear nephew," said she, "your first name you received from
your sainted uncle, my blessed husband; and of all my nephews and nieces,
you are the one whose conduct in life has most pleased me."

When you consider that my aunt herself was one of seven married sisters,
that all the Hoggarties were married in Ireland and mothers of numerous
children, I must say that the compliment my aunt paid me was a very
handsome one.

"Dear aunt," says I, in a slow agitated voice, "I have often heard you
say there were seventy-three of us in all, and believe me I do think your
high opinion of me very complimentary indeed: I'm unworthy of it--indeed
I am."

"As for those odious Irish people," says my aunt, rather sharply, "don't
speak of them, I hate them, and every one of their mothers" (the fact is,
there had been a lawsuit about Hoggarty's property); "but of all my other
kindred, you, Samuel, have been the most dutiful and affectionate to me.
Your employers in London give the best accounts of your regularity and
good conduct. Though you have had eighty pounds a year (a liberal
salary), you have not spent a shilling more than your income, as other
young men would; and you have devoted your month's holidays to your old
aunt, who, I assure you, is grateful."

"Oh, ma'am!" said I. It was all that I could utter.

"Samuel," continued she, "I promised you a present, and here it is. I
first thought of giving you money; but you are a regular lad; and don't
want it. You are above money, dear Samuel. I give you what I value most
in life--the p,--the po, the po-ortrait of my sainted Hoggarty" (tears),
"set in the locket which contains the valuable diamond that you have
often heard me speak of. Wear it, dear Sam, for my sake; and think of
that angel in heaven, and of your dear Aunt Susy."

She put the machine into my hands: it was about the size of the lid of a
shaving-box: and I should as soon have thought of wearing it as of
wearing a cocked-hat and pigtail. I was so disgusted and disappointed
that I really could not get out a single word.

When I recovered my presence of mind a little, I took the locket out of
the bit of paper (the locket indeed! it was as big as a barndoor
padlock), and slowly put it into my shirt. "Thank you, Aunt," said I,
with admirable raillery. "I shall always value this present for the sake
of you, who gave it me; and it will recall to me my uncle, and my
thirteen aunts in Ireland."

"I don't want you to wear it in _that_ way!" shrieked Mrs. Hoggarty,
"with the hair of those odious carroty women. You must have their hair
removed."

"Then the locket will be spoiled, Aunt."

"Well, sir, never mind the locket; have it set afresh."

"Or suppose," said I, "I put aside the setting altogether: it is a little
too large for the present fashion; and have the portrait of my uncle
framed and placed over my chimney-piece, next to yours. It's a sweet
miniature."

"That miniature," said Mrs. Hoggarty, solemnly, "was the great Mulcahy's
_chef-d'oeuvre_" (pronounced _shy dewver_, a favourite word of my aunt's;
being, with the words _bongtong_ and _ally mode de Parry_, the extent of
her French vocabulary). "You know the dreadful story of that poor poor
artist. When he had finished that wonderful likeness for the late Mrs.
Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty, county Mayo, she wore it in her bosom at the
Lord Lieutenant's ball, where she played a game of piquet with the
Commander-in-Chief. What could have made her put the hair of her vulgar
daughters round Mick's portrait, I can't think; but so it was, as you see
it this day. 'Madam,' says the Commander-in-Chief, 'if that is not my
friend Mick Hoggarty, I'm a Dutchman!' Those were his Lordship's very
words. Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty took off the brooch and showed
it to him.

"'Who is the artist?' says my Lord. 'It's the most wonderful likeness I
ever saw in my life!'

"'Mulcahy,' says she, 'of Ormond's Quay.'

"'Begad, I patronise him!' says my Lord; but presently his face darkened,
and he gave back the picture with a dissatisfied air. 'There is one
fault in that portrait,' said his Lordship, who was a rigid
disciplinarian; 'and I wonder that my friend Mick, as a military man,
should have overlooked it.'

"'What's that?' says Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty.

"'Madam, he has been painted WITHOUT HIS SWORD-BELT!' And he took up the
cards again in a passion, and finished the game without saying a single
word.

"The news was carried to Mr. Mulcahy the next day, and that unfortunate
artist _went mad immediately_! He had set his whole reputation upon this
miniature, and declared that it should be faultless. Such was the effect
of the announcement upon his susceptible heart! When Mrs. Hoggarty died,
your uncle took the portrait and always wore it himself. His sisters
said it was for the sake of the diamond; whereas, ungrateful things! it
was merely on account of their hair, and his love for the fine arts. As
for the poor artist, my dear, some people said it was the profuse use of
spirit that brought on delirium tremens; but I don't believe it. Take
another glass of Rosolio."

The telling of this story always put my aunt into great good-humour, and
she promised at the end of it to pay for the new setting of the diamond;
desiring me to take it on my arrival in London to the great jeweller, Mr.
Polonius, and send her the bill. "The fact is," said she, "that the gold
in which the thing is set is worth five guineas at the very least, and
you can have the diamond reset for two. However, keep the remainder,
dear Sam, and buy yourself what you please with it."

With this the old lady bade me adieu. The clock was striking twelve as I
walked down the village, for the story of Mulcahy always took an hour in
the telling, and I went away not quite so downhearted as when the present
was first made to me. "After all," thought I, "a diamond-pin is a
handsome thing, and will give me a _distingue_ air, though my clothes be
never so shabby"--and shabby they were without any doubt. "Well," I
said, "three guineas, which I shall have over, will buy me a couple of
pairs of what-d'ye-call-'ems;" of which, _entre nous_, I was in great
want, having just then done growing, whereas my pantaloons were made a
good eighteen months before.

Well, I walked down the village, my hands in my breeches pockets; I had
poor Mary's purse there, having removed the little things which she gave
me the day before, and placed them--never mind where: but look you, in
those days I had a heart, and a warm one too. I had Mary's purse ready
for my aunt's donation, which never came, and with my own little stock of
money besides, that Mrs. Hoggarty's card parties had lessened by a good
five-and-twenty shillings, I calculated that, after paying my fare, I
should get to town with a couple of seven-shilling pieces in my pocket.

I walked down the village at a deuce of a pace; so quick that, if the
thing had been possible, I should have overtaken ten o'clock that had
passed by me two hours ago, when I was listening to Mrs. H.'s long
stories over her terrible Rosolio. The truth is, at ten I had an
appointment under a certain person's window, who was to have been looking
at the moon at that hour, with her pretty quilled nightcap on, and her
blessed hair in papers.

There was the window shut, and not so much as a candle in it; and though
I hemmed and hawed, and whistled over the garden paling, and sang a song
of which Somebody was very fond, and even threw a pebble at the window,
which hit it exactly at the opening of the lattice,--I woke no one except
a great brute of a house-dog, that yelled, and howled, and bounced so at
me over the rails, that I thought every moment he would have had my nose
between his teeth.

So I was obliged to go off as quickly as might be; and the next morning
Mamma and my sisters made breakfast for me at four, and at five came the
"True Blue" light six-inside post-coach to London, and I got up on the
roof without having seen Mary Smith.

As we passed the house, it _did_ seem as if the window curtain in her
room was drawn aside just a little bit. Certainly the window was open,
and it had been shut the night before: but away went the coach; and the
village, cottage, and the churchyard, and Hicks's hayricks were soon out
of sight.

* * * * *

"My hi, what a pin!" said a stable-boy, who was smoking a cigar, to the
guard, looking at me and putting his finger to his nose.

The fact is, that I had never undressed since my aunt's party; and being
uneasy in mind and having all my clothes to pack up, and thinking of
something else, had quite forgotten Mrs. Hoggarty's brooch, which I had
stuck into my shirt-frill the night before.




CHAPTER II


TELLS HOW THE DIAMOND IS BROUGHT UP TO LONDON, AND PRODUCES WONDERFUL
EFFECTS BOTH IN THE CITY AND AT THE WEST END

The circumstances recorded in this story took place some score of years
ago, when, as the reader may remember, there was a great mania in the
City of London for establishing companies of all sorts; by which many
people made pretty fortunes.

I was at this period, as the truth must be known, thirteenth clerk of
twenty-four young gents who did the immense business of the Independent
West Diddlesex Fire and Life Insurance Company, at their splendid stone
mansion in Cornhill. Mamma had sunk a sum of four hundred pounds in the
purchase of an annuity at this office, which paid her no less than six-
and-thirty pounds a year, when no other company in London would give her
more than twenty-four. The chairman of the directors was the great Mr.
Brough, of the house of Brough and Hoff, Crutched Friars, Turkey
Merchants. It was a new house, but did a tremendous business in the fig
and sponge way, and more in the Zante currant line than any other firm in
the City.

Brough was a great man among the Dissenting connection, and you saw his
name for hundreds at the head of every charitable society patronised by
those good people. He had nine clerks residing at his office in Crutched
Friars; he would not take one without a certificate from the schoolmaster
and clergyman of his native place, strongly vouching for his morals and
doctrine; and the places were so run after, that he got a premium of four
or five hundred pounds with each young gent, whom he made to slave for
ten hours a day, and to whom in compensation he taught all the mysteries
of the Turkish business. He was a great man on 'Change, too; and our
young chaps used to hear from the stockbrokers' clerks (we commonly dined
together at the "Cock and Woolpack," a respectable house, where you get a
capital cut of meat, bread, vegetables, cheese, half a pint of porter,
and a penny to the waiter, for a shilling)--the young stockbrokers used
to tell us of immense bargains in Spanish, Greek, and Columbians, that
Brough made. Hoff had nothing to do with them, but stopped at home
minding exclusively the business of the house. He was a young chap, very
quiet and steady, of the Quaker persuasion, and had been taken into
partnership by Brough for a matter of thirty thousand pounds: and a very
good bargain too. I was told in the strictest confidence that the house
one year with another divided a good seven thousand pounds: of which
Brough had half, Hoff two-sixths, and the other sixth went to old Tudlow,
who had been Mr. Brough's clerk before the new partnership began. Tudlow
always went about very shabby, and we thought him an old miser. One of
our gents, Bob Swinney by name, used to say that Tudlow's share was all
nonsense, and that Brough had it all; but Bob was always too knowing by
half, used to wear a green cutaway coat, and had his free admission to
Covent Garden Theatre. He was always talking down at the shop, as we
called it (it wasn't a shop, but as splendid an office as any in
Cornhill)--he was always talking about Vestris and Miss Tree, and singing

"The bramble, the bramble,
The jolly jolly bramble!"

one of Charles Kemble's famous songs in "Maid Marian;" a play that was
all the rage then, taken from a famous story-book by one Peacock, a clerk
in the India House; and a precious good place he has too.

When Brough heard how Master Swinney abused him, and had his admission to
the theatre, he came one day down to the office where we all were, four-
and-twenty of us, and made one of the most beautiful speeches I ever
heard in my life. He said that for slander he did not care, contumely
was the lot of every public man who had austere principles of his own,
and acted by them austerely; but what he _did_ care for was the character
of every single gentleman forming a part of the Independent West
Diddlesex Association. The welfare of thousands was in their keeping;
millions of money were daily passing through their hands; the City--the
country looked upon them for order, honesty, and good example. And if he
found amongst those whom he considered as his children--those whom he
loved as his own flesh and blood--that that order was departed from, that
that regularity was not maintained, that that good example was not kept
up (Mr. B. always spoke in this emphatic way)--if he found his children
departing from the wholesome rules of morality, religion, and decorum--if
he found in high or low--in the head clerk at six hundred a year down to
the porter who cleaned the steps--if he found the slightest taint of
dissipation, he would cast the offender from him--yea, though he were his
own son, he would cast him from him!

As he spoke this, Mr. Brough burst into tears; and we who didn't know
what was coming, looked at each other as pale as parsnips: all except
Swinney, who was twelfth clerk, and made believe to whistle. When Mr. B.
had wiped his eyes and recovered himself, he turned round; and oh, how my
heart thumped as he looked me full in the face! How it was relieved,
though, when he shouted out in a thundering voice--

"Mr. ROBERT SWINNEY!"

"Sir to you," says Swinney, as cool as possible, and some of the chaps
began to titter.

"Mr. SWINNEY!" roared Brough, in a voice still bigger than before, "when
you came into this office--this family, sir, for such it is, as I am
proud to say--you found three-and-twenty as pious and well-regulated
young men as ever laboured together--as ever had confided to them the
wealth of this mighty capital and famous empire. You found, sir,
sobriety, regularity, and decorum; no profane songs were uttered in this
place sacred to--to business; no slanders were whispered against the
heads of the establishment--but over them I pass: I can afford, sir, to
pass them by--no worldly conversation or foul jesting disturbed the
attention of these gentlemen, or desecrated the peaceful scene of their
labours. You found Christians and gentlemen, sir!"

"I paid for my place like the rest," said Swinney. "Didn't my governor
take sha-?"

"Silence, sir! Your worthy father did take shares in this establishment,
which will yield him one day an immense profit. He _did_ take shares,
sir, or you never would have been here. I glory in saying that every one
of my young friends around me has a father, a brother, a dear relative or
friend, who is connected in a similar way with our glorious enterprise;
and that not one of them is there but has an interest in procuring, at a
liberal commission, other persons to join the ranks of our Association.
_But_, sir, I am its chief. You will find, sir, your appointment signed
by me; and in like manner, I, John Brough, annul it. Go from us,
sir!--leave us--quit a family that can no longer receive you in its
bosom! Mr. Swinney, I have wept--I have prayed, sir, before I came to
this determination; I have taken counsel, sir, and am resolved. _Depart
from out of us_!

"Not without three months' salary, though, Mr. B.: that cock won't
fight!"

"They shall be paid to your father, sir."

"My father be hanged! I tell you what, Brough, I'm of age; and if you
don't pay me my salary, I'll arrest you,--by Jingo, I will! I'll have
you in quod, or my name's not Bob Swinney!"

"Make out a cheque, Mr. Roundhand, for the three months' salary of this
perverted young man."

"Twenty-one pun' five, Roundhand, and nothing for the stamp!" cried out
that audacious Swinney. "There it is, sir, _re_-ceipted. You needn't
cross it to my banker's. And if any of you gents like a glass of punch
this evening at eight o'clock, Bob Swinney's your man, and nothing to
pay. If Mr. Brough _would_ do me the honour to come in and take a whack?
Come, don't say no, if you'd rather not!"

We couldn't stand this impudence, and all burst out laughing like mad.

"Leave the room!" yelled Mr. Brough, whose face had turned quite blue;
and so Bob took his white hat off the peg, and strolled away with his
"tile," as he called it, very much on one side. When he was gone, Mr.
Brough gave us another lecture, by which we all determined to profit; and
going up to Roundhand's desk put his arm round his neck, and looked over
the ledger.

"What money has been paid in to-day, Roundhand?" he said, in a very kind
way.

"The widow, sir, came with her money; nine hundred and four ten and
six--say 904_l_. 10_s_. 6_d_. Captain Sparr, sir, paid his shares up;
grumbles, though, and says he's no more: fifty shares, two
instalments--three fifties, sir."

"He's always grumbling!"

"He says he has not a shilling to bless himself with until our dividend
day."

"Any more?"

Mr. Roundhand went through the book, and made it up nineteen hundred
pounds in all. We were doing a famous business now; though when I came
into the office, we used to sit, and laugh, and joke, and read the
newspapers all day; bustling into our seats whenever a stray customer
came. Brough never cared about our laughing and singing _then_, and was
hand and glove with Bob Swinney; but that was in early times, before we
were well in harness.

"Nineteen hundred pounds, and a thousand pounds in shares. Bravo,
Roundhand--bravo, gentlemen! Remember, every share you bring in brings
you five per cent. down on the nail! Look to your friends--stick to your
desks--be regular--I hope none of you forget church. Who takes Mr.
Swinney's place?"

"Mr. Samuel Titmarsh, sir."

"Mr. Titmarsh, I congratulate you. Give me your hand, sir: you are now
twelfth clerk of this Association, and your salary is consequently
increased five pounds a year. How is your worthy mother, sir--your dear
and excellent parent? In good health I trust? And long--long, I
fervently pray, may this office continue to pay her annuity! Remember,
if she has more money to lay out, there is higher interest than the last
for her, for she is a year older; and five per cent. for you, my boy! Why
not you as well as another? Young men will be young men, and a ten-pound
note does no harm. Does it, Mr. Abednego?"

"Oh, no!" says Abednego, who was third clerk, and who was the chap that
informed against Swinney; and he began to laugh, as indeed we all did
whenever Mr. Brough made anything like a joke: not that they _were_
jokes; only we used to know it by his face.

"Oh, by-the-bye, Roundhand," says he, "a word with you on business. Mrs.
Brough wants to know why the deuce you never come down to Fulham."

"Law, that's very polite!" said Mr. Roundhand, quite pleased.

"Name your day, my boy! Say Saturday, and bring your night-cap with
you."

"You're very polite, I'm sure. I should be delighted beyond anything,
but--"

"But--no buts, my boy! Hark ye! the Chancellor of the Exchequer does me
the honour to dine with us, and I want you to see him; for the truth is,
I have bragged about you to his Lordship as the best actuary in the three
kingdoms."

Roundhand could not refuse such an invitation as _that_, though he had
told us how Mrs. R. and he were going to pass Saturday and Sunday at
Putney; and we who knew what a life the poor fellow led, were sure that
the head clerk would be prettily scolded by his lady when she heard what
was going on. She disliked Mrs. Brough very much, that was the fact;
because Mrs. B. kept a carriage, and said she didn't know where
Pentonville was, and couldn't call on Mrs. Roundhand. Though, to be
sure, her coachman might have found out the way.

"And oh, Roundhand!" continued our governor, "draw a cheque for seven
hundred, will you! Come, don't stare, man; I'm not going to run away!
That's right,--seven hundred--and ninety, say, while you're about it! Our
board meets on Saturday, and never fear I'll account for it to them
before I drive you down. We shall take up the Chancellor at Whitehall."

So saying, Mr. Brough folded up the cheque, and shaking hands with Mr.
Roundhand very cordially, got into his carriage-and-four (he always drove
four horses even in the City, where it's so difficult), which was waiting
at the office-door for him.