mudfog+-第4章
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caps; to imitate the London watermen; or how many base imitations
of running…footmen; or how many banners; which; owing to the
heaviness of the atmosphere; could by no means be prevailed on to
display their inscriptions: still less do we feel disposed to
relate how the men who played the wind instruments; looking up into
the sky (we mean the fog) with musical fervour; walked through
pools of water and hillocks of mud; till they covered the powdered
heads of the running…footmen aforesaid with splashes; that looked
curious; but not ornamental; or how the barrel…organ performer put
on the wrong stop; and played one tune while the band played
another; or how the horses; being used to the arena; and not to the
streets; would stand still and dance; instead of going on and
prancing; … all of which are matters which might be dilated upon to
great advantage; but which we have not the least intention of
dilating upon; notwithstanding。
Oh! it was a grand and beautiful sight to behold a corporation in
glass coaches; provided at the sole cost and charge of Nicholas
Tulrumble; coming rolling along; like a funeral out of mourning;
and to watch the attempts the corporation made to look great and
solemn; when Nicholas Tulrumble himself; in the four…wheel chaise;
with the tall postilion; rolled out after them; with Mr。 Jennings
on one side to look like a chaplain; and a supernumerary on the
other; with an old life…guardsman's sabre; to imitate the sword…
bearer; and to see the tears rolling down the faces of the mob as
they screamed with merriment。 This was beautiful! and so was the
appearance of Mrs。 Tulrumble and son; as they bowed with grave
dignity out of their coach…window to all the dirty faces that were
laughing around them: but it is not even with this that we have to
do; but with the sudden stopping of the procession at another blast
of the trumpet; whereat; and whereupon; a profound silence ensued;
and all eyes were turned towards Mudfog Hall; in the confident
anticipation of some new wonder。
'They won't laugh now; Mr。 Jennings;' said Nicholas Tulrumble。
'I think not; sir;' said Mr。 Jennings。
'See how eager they look;' said Nicholas Tulrumble。 'Aha! the
laugh will be on our side now; eh; Mr。 Jennings?'
'No doubt of that; sir;' replied Mr。 Jennings; and Nicholas
Tulrumble; in a state of pleasurable excitement; stood up in the
four…wheel chaise; and telegraphed gratification to the Mayoress
behind。
While all this was going forward; Ned Twigger had descended into
the kitchen of Mudfog Hall for the purpose of indulging the
servants with a private view of the curiosity that was to burst
upon the town; and; somehow or other; the footman was so
companionable; and the housemaid so kind; and the cook so friendly;
that he could not resist the offer of the first…mentioned to sit
down and take something … just to drink success to master in。
So; down Ned Twigger sat himself in his brass livery on the top of
the kitchen…table; and in a mug of something strong; paid for by
the unconscious Nicholas Tulrumble; and provided by the
companionable footman; drank success to the Mayor and his
procession; and; as Ned laid by his helmet to imbibe the something
strong; the companionable footman put it on his own head; to the
immeasurable and unrecordable delight of the cook and housemaid。
The companionable footman was very facetious to Ned; and Ned was
very gallant to the cook and housemaid by turns。 They were all
very cosy and comfortable; and the something strong went briskly
round。
At last Ned Twigger was loudly called for; by the procession
people: and; having had his helmet fixed on; in a very complicated
manner; by the companionable footman; and the kind housemaid; and
the friendly cook; he walked gravely forth; and appeared before the
multitude。
The crowd roared … it was not with wonder; it was not with
surprise; it was most decidedly and unquestionably with laughter。
'What!' said Mr。 Tulrumble; starting up in the four…wheel chaise。
'Laughing? If they laugh at a man in real brass armour; they'd
laugh when their own fathers were dying。 Why doesn't he go into
his place; Mr。 Jennings? What's he rolling down towards us for? he
has no business here!'
'I am afraid; sir … ' faltered Mr。 Jennings。
'Afraid of what; sir?' said Nicholas Tulrumble; looking up into the
secretary's face。
'I am afraid he's drunk; sir;' replied Mr。 Jennings。
Nicholas Tulrumble took one look at the extraordinary figure that
was bearing down upon them; and then; clasping his secretary by the
arm; uttered an audible groan in anguish of spirit。
It is a melancholy fact that Mr。 Twigger having full licence to
demand a single glass of rum on the putting on of every piece of
the armour; got; by some means or other; rather out of his
calculation in the hurry and confusion of preparation; and drank
about four glasses to a piece instead of one; not to mention the
something strong which went on the top of it。 Whether the brass
armour checked the natural flow of perspiration; and thus prevented
the spirit from evaporating; we are not scientific enough to know;
but; whatever the cause was; Mr。 Twigger no sooner found himself
outside the gate of Mudfog Hall; than he also found himself in a
very considerable state of intoxication; and hence his
extraordinary style of progressing。 This was bad enough; but; as
if fate and fortune had conspired against Nicholas Tulrumble; Mr。
Twigger; not having been penitent for a good calendar month; took
it into his head to be most especially and particularly
sentimental; just when his repentance could have been most
conveniently dispensed with。 Immense tears were rolling down his
cheeks; and he was vainly endeavouring to conceal his grief by
applying to his eyes a blue cotton pocket…handkerchief with white
spots; … an article not strictly in keeping with a suit of armour
some three hundred years old; or thereabouts。
'Twigger; you villain!' said Nicholas Tulrumble; quite forgetting
his dignity; 'go back。'
'Never;' said Ned。 'I'm a miserable wretch。 I'll never leave
you。'
The by…standers of course received this declaration with
acclamations of 'That's right; Ned; don't!'
'I don't intend it;' said Ned; with all the obstinacy of a very
tipsy man。 'I'm very unhappy。 I'm the wretched father of an
unfortunate family; but I am very faithful; sir。 I'll never leave
you。' Having reiterated this obliging promise; Ned proceeded in
broken words to harangue the crowd upon the number of years he had
lived in Mudfog; the excessive respectability of his character; and
other topics of the like nature。
'Here! will anybody lead him away?' said Nicholas: 'if they'll
call on me afterwards; I'll reward them well。'
Two or three men stepped forward; with the view of bearing Ned off;
when the secretary interposed。
'Take care! take care!' said Mr。 Jennings。 'I beg your pardon;
sir; but they'd better not go too near him; because; if he falls
over; he'll certainly crush somebody。'
At this hint the crowd retired on all sides to a very respectful
distance; and left Ned; like the Duke of Devonshire; in a little
circle of his own。
'But; Mr。 Jennings;' said Nicholas Tulrumble; 'he'll be
suffocated。'
'I'm very sorry for it; sir;' replied Mr。 Jennings; 'but nobody can
get that armour off; without his own assistance。 I'm quite certain
of it from the way he put it on。'
Here Ned wept dolefully; and shook his helmeted head; in a manner
that might have touched a heart of stone; but the crowd had not
hearts of stone; and they laughed heartily。
'Dear me; Mr。 Jennings;' said Nicholas; turning pale at the
possibility of Ned's being smothered in his antique costume … 'Dear
me; Mr。 Jennings; can nothing be done with him?'
'Nothing at all;' replied Ned; 'nothing at all。 Gentlemen; I'm an
unhappy wret