CHAPTER XI
We have a dose of Irving imitations. Make the acquaintance of a Mr.Padge. Don’t care for him. Mr. Burwin-Fosselton becomes a nuisance.
NOVEMBER 20.—Have seen nothing of Lupin the whole day. Bought a cheapaddress-book. I spent the evening copying in the names and addresses ofmy friends and acquaintances. Left out the Mutlars of course.
NOVEMBER 21.—Lupin turned up for a few minutes in the evening. He askedfor a drop of brandy with a sort of careless look, which to my mind wastheatrical and quite ineffective. I said: “My boy, I have none, and Idon’t think I should give it you if I had.” Lupin said: “I’ll go where Ican get some,” and walked out of the house. Carrie took the boy’s part,and the rest of the evening was spent in a disagreeable discussion, inwhich the words “Daisy” and “Mutlar” must have occurred a thousand times.
NOVEMBER 22.—Gowing and Cummings dropped in during the evening. Lupinalso came in, bringing his friend, Mr. Burwin-Fosselton—one of the“Holloway Comedians”—who was at our party the other night, and whocracked our little round table. Happy to say Daisy Mutlar was neverreferred to. The conversation was almost entirely monopolised by theyoung fellow Fosselton, who not only looked rather like Mr. Irving, butseemed to imagine that he _was_ the celebrated actor. I must say he gavesome capital imitations of him. As he showed no signs of moving atsupper time, I said: “If you like to stay, Mr. Fosselton, for our usualcrust—pray do.” He replied: “Oh! thanks; but please call meBurwin-Fosselton. It is a double name. There are lots of Fosseltons,but please call me Burwin-Fosselton.”
He began doing the Irving business all through supper. He sank so lowdown in his chair that his chin was almost on a level with the table, andtwice he kicked Carrie under the table, upset his wine, and flashed aknife uncomfortably near Gowing’s face. After supper he kept stretchingout his legs on the fender, indulging in scraps of quotations from playswhich were Greek to me, and more than once knocked over the fire-irons,making a hideous row—poor Carrie already having a bad headache.
When he went, he said, to our surprise: “I will come to-morrow and bringmy Irving make-up.” Gowing and Cummings said they would like to see itand would come too. I could not help thinking they might as well give aparty at my house while they are about it. However, as Carrie sensiblysaid: “Do anything, dear, to make Lupin forget the Daisy Mutlarbusiness.”
NOVEMBER 23.—In the evening, Cummings came early. Gowing came a littlelater and brought, without asking permission, a fat and, I think, veryvulgar-looking man named Padge, who appeared to be all moustache. Gowingnever attempted any apology to either of us, but said Padge wanted to seethe Irving business, to which Padge said: “That’s right,” and that isabout all he _did_ say during the entire evening. Lupin came in andseemed in much better spirits. He had prepared a bit of a surprise. Mr.Burwin-Fosselton had come in with him, but had gone upstairs to getready. In half-an-hour Lupin retired from the parlour, and returning ina few minutes, announced “Mr. Henry Irving.”
I must say we were all astounded. I never saw such a resemblance. Itwas astonishing. The only person who did not appear interested was theman Padge, who had got the best arm-chair, and was puffing away at a foulpipe into the fireplace. After some little time I said; “Why do actorsalways wear their hair so long?” Carrie in a moment said, “Mr. Haredoesn’t wear long _hair_.” How we laughed except Mr. Fosselton, whosaid, in a rather patronising kind of way, “The joke, Mrs. Pooter, isextremely appropriate, if not altogether new.” Thinking this rather asnub, I said: “Mr. Fosselton, I fancy—” He interrupted me by saying:“Mr. _Burwin_-Fosselton, if you please,” which made me quite forget whatI was going to say to him. During the supper Mr. Burwin-Fosselton againmonopolised the conversation with his Irving talk, and both Carrie and Icame to the conclusion one can have even too much imitation of Irving.After supper, Mr. Burwin-Fosselton got a little too boisterous over hisIrving imitation, and suddenly seizing Gowing by the collar of his coat,dug his thumb-nail, accidentally of course, into Gowing’s neck and took apiece of flesh out. Gowing was rightly annoyed, but that man Padge, whohaving declined our modest supper in order that he should not lose hiscomfortable chair, burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at thelittle misadventure. I was so annoyed at the conduct of Padge, I said:“I suppose you would have laughed if he had poked Mr. Gowing’s eye out?”to which Padge replied: “That’s right,” and laughed more than ever. Ithink perhaps the greatest surprise was when we broke up, for Mr.Burwin-Fosselton said: “Good-night, Mr. Pooter. I’m glad you like theimitation, I’ll bring _the other make-up to-morrow night_.”
NOVEMBER 24.—I went to town without a pocket-handkerchief. This is thesecond time I have done this during the last week. I must be losing mymemory. Had it not been for this Daisy Mutlar business, I would havewritten to Mr. Burwin-Fosselton and told him I should be out thisevening, but I fancy he is the sort of young man who would come all thesame.
Dear old Cummings came in the evening; but Gowing sent round a littlenote saying he hoped I would excuse his not turning up, which ratheramused me. He added that his neck was still painful. Of course,Burwin-Fosselton came, but Lupin never turned up, and imagine my utterdisgust when that man Padge actually came again, and not even accompaniedby Gowing. I was exasperated, and said: “Mr. Padge, this is a_surprise_.” Dear Carrie, fearing unpleasantness, said: “Oh! I supposeMr. Padge has only come to see the other Irving make-up.” Mr. Padgesaid: “That’s right,” and took the best chair again, from which he nevermoved the whole evening.
My only consolation is, he takes no supper, so he is not an expensiveguest, but I shall speak to Gowing about the matter. The Irvingimitations and conversations occupied the whole evening, till I was sickof it. Once we had a rather heated discussion, which was commenced byCummings saying that it appeared to him that Mr. Burwin-Fosselton was notonly _like_ Mr. Irving, but was in his judgment every way as _good_ oreven _better_. I ventured to remark that after all it was but animitation of an original.
Cummings said surely some imitations were better than the originals. Imade what I considered a very clever remark: “Without an original therecan be no imitation.” Mr. Burwin-Fosselton said quite impertinently:“Don’t discuss me in my presence, if you please; and, Mr. Pooter, Ishould advise you to talk about what you understand;” to which that cadPadge replied: “That’s right.” Dear Carrie saved the whole thing bysuddenly saying: “I’ll be Ellen Terry.” Dear Carrie’s imitation wasn’t abit liked, but she was so spontaneous and so funny that the disagreeablediscussion passed off. When they left, I very pointedly said to Mr.Burwin-Fosselton and Mr. Padge that we should be engaged to-morrowevening.
NOVEMBER 25.—Had a long letter from Mr. Fosselton respecting last night’sIrving discussion. I was very angry, and I wrote and said I knew littleor nothing about stage matters, was not in the least interested in themand positively declined to be drawn into a discussion on the subject,even at the risk of its leading to a breach of friendship. I never wrotea more determined letter.
On returning home at the usual hour on Saturday afternoon I met near theArchway Daisy Mutlar. My heart gave a leap. I bowed rather stiffly, butshe affected not to have seen me. Very much annoyed in the evening bythe laundress sending home an odd sock. Sarah said she sent two pairs,and the laundress declared only a pair and a half were sent. I spoke toCarrie about it, but she rather testily replied: “I am tired of speakingto her; you had better go and speak to her yourself. She is outside.” Idid so, but the laundress declared that only an odd sock was sent.
Gowing passed into the passage at this time and was rude enough to listento the conversation, and interrupting, said: “Don’t waste the odd sock,old man; do an act of charity and give it to some poor man with only oneleg.” The laundress giggled like an idiot. I was disgusted and walkedupstairs for the purpose of pinning down my collar, as the button hadcome off the back of my shirt.
When I returned to the
parlour, Gowing was retailing his idiotic jokeabout the odd sock, and Carrie was roaring with laughter. I suppose I amlosing my sense of humour. I spoke my mind pretty freely about Padge.Gowing said he had met him only once before that evening. He had beenintroduced by a friend, and as he (Padge) had “stood” a good dinner,Gowing wished to show him some little return. Upon my word, Gowing’scoolness surpasses all belief. Lupin came in before I could reply, andGowing unfortunately inquired after Daisy Mutlar. Lupin shouted: “Mindyour own business, sir!” and bounced out of the room, slamming the door.The remainder of the night was Daisy Mutlar—Daisy Mutlar—Daisy Mutlar.Oh dear!
NOVEMBER 26, Sunday.—The curate preached a very good sermon to-day—verygood indeed. His appearance is never so impressive as our dear oldvicar’s, but I am bound to say his sermons are much more impressive. Arather annoying incident occurred, of which I must make mention. Mrs.Fernlosse, who is quite a grand lady, living in one of those large housesin the Camden Road, stopped to speak to me after church, when we were allcoming out. I must say I felt flattered, for she is thought a good dealof. I suppose she knew me through seeing me so often take round theplate, especially as she always occupies the corner seat of the pew. Sheis a very influential lady, and may have had something of the utmostimportance to say, but unfortunately, as she commenced to speak a stronggust of wind came and blew my hat off into the middle of the road.
I had to run after it, and had the greatest difficulty in recovering it.When I had succeeded in doing so, I found Mrs. Fernlosse had walked onwith some swell friends, and I felt I could not well approach her now,especially as my hat was smothered with mud. I cannot say howdisappointed I felt.
In the evening (_Sunday_ evening of all others) I found an impertinentnote from Mr. Burwin-Fosselton, which ran as follows:
“DEAR MR. POOTER,—Although your junior by perhaps some twenty or thirty years—which is sufficient reason that you ought to have a longer record of the things and ways in this miniature of a planet—I feel it is just within the bounds of possibility that the wheels of your life don’t travel so quickly round as those of the humble writer of these lines. The dandy horse of past days has been known to overtake the _slow coach_.
“Do I make myself understood?
“Very well, then! Permit me, Mr. Pooter, to advise you to accept the _verb. sap_. Acknowledge your defeat, and take your whipping gracefully; for remember you threw down the glove, and I cannot claim to be either mentally or physically a _coward_!
“_Revenons à nos moutons_.
“Our lives run in different grooves. I live for MY ART—THE STAGE. Your life is devoted to commercial pursuits—‘A life among Ledgers.’ My books are of different metal. Your life in the City is honourable, I admit. _But how different_! Cannot even you see the ocean between us? A channel that prevents the meeting of our brains in harmonious accord. Ah! But _chaçun à son goût_.
“I have registered a vow to mount the steps of fame. I may crawl, I may slip, I may even falter (we are all weak), but _reach the top rung of the ladder I will_!!! When there, my voice shall be heard, for I will shout to the multitudes below: ‘_Vici_!’ For the present I am only an amateur, and my work is unknown, forsooth, save to a party of friends, with here and there an enemy.
“But, Mr. Pooter, let me ask you, ‘What is the difference between the amateur and the professional?’
“None!!!
“Stay! Yes, there is a difference. One is _paid_ for doing what the other does as skilfully for _nothing_!
“But I will be _paid_, too! For _I_, contrary to the wishes of my family and friends, have at last elected to adopt the stage as _my_ profession. And when the _farce_ craze is over—and, _mark you_, _that will be soon_—I will make my power known; for I feel—pardon my apparent conceit—that there is no living man who can play the hump-backed Richard as I _feel_ and _know_ I can.
“And _you_ will be the first to come round and bend your head in submission. There are many matters you may understand, but knowledge of the fine art of acting is to you an _unknown quantity_.
“Pray let this discussion cease with this letter. _Vale_!
Yours truly, “BURWIN-FOSSELTON.”
I was disgusted. When Lupin came in, I handed him this impertinentletter, and said: “My boy, in that letter you can see the true characterof your friend.”
Lupin, to my surprise, said: “Oh yes. He showed me the letter before hesent it. I think he is right, and you ought to apologise.”