Scene.—A Private Sitting Room in an Hotel, gaudily furnished— Entrance,
C.—a sofa, L., fire-place, R., sideboards, R. and L., at top—Robert and James
discovered arranging Tables.
James.
(R.) Well, Bob, what luck shall we have to-day?
Robert.
Oh, same as yesterday of course, only the commercials, and a stray old lady
or two for a bed and a glass of toast-and-water. (sits on sofa,
L.)
James.
Ah, that dreadful Times has ruined us ! now the public has got its
eyes opened, it wont wink at our pickings and stealings any more. (sits,
L. in arm chair)
Robert.
No, we're all gone goslings, knocked off our perches like skittles, and
stewed down to pickled cabbage.
Smin.
(without, C. R., in a tremulous voice) James, Robert,
Frederick!
James.
Here, sir, here—poor Sminker, his voice is getting feebler every day, that
unfeeling cut yesterday at head waiters and their perquisites has nearly settled
him, he's going melancholy mad.
Robert.
Poor fellow ! just as he's going to be married. Ah, it's a true truth,
misfortunes never come single.
Smin.
(without) No, no, Mary, I'll read it, if it be my death !
Enter Sminker, C, with the Times newspaper, struggling with
Mary, who is trying to take it from him.
Smin.
(wildly) I must, I must! (looking at paper)
Three columns —three! three! (laughing hysterically, and sinking into a
chair, which Mary places, C.) Three four-and-twenty pounders, crammed to
the muzzle with grape and canister, to destroy us. (looking at
paper) The old story—" Fathers of Families'"—" Ex-M.P's."— " Done Browns
"—" Travellers who would be so in England, but for the extortion of Hotel
Keepers, and—(faintly) the rapacity of their Servants."
(groaning) Oh. what is the penalty for manslaughter? —what is the
punishment for killing a head waiter ?
Robert.
I don't know, but it's three months for killing a boots.
Smin.
I shall never see another birthday.
Mary.
Oh, don't take on so, Augustus! all will be right in a day or two—that Mr.
Times is just for all the world like a warming pan, plaguy hot and scorching,
while the live coals are in him, but put him in the chimney corner for a little
while, he'll gradually cool down, and nothing will remain of him but a slight
smell of sulphur.
Smin.
Look, look—here's another letter from the " Biffin !"
James|Robert|Mary
(greatly agitated)
The Biffin!
Smin.
The assassin who first set upon us—he's at it again worse than ever—boots,
waiters, chambermaids—all of us.
Mary.
Oh, the wretch!
James.
The shab!
Robert.
The inexsnificant 'umbug!
Smin.
It's all over with us—we're going as fast as tea and sugar in a lodging
house. If somebody doesn't do something to that Times soon, we shan't
have a leg to stand on—wax-lights are already extinguished, private
sitting-rooms are shaking—the most courageous are afraid to venture upon
three-and-sixpenee for half-a-pint of sherry, and as for us, there's a
great move to rub us out altogether.
Mary.
(energetically) Then we'll strike—that will bring them to
their senses—the world may go on without cabs or omnibuses, but it can't stir a
step without chambermaids—beds must be made, and shaving water and warming pans
can never be dispensed with, as long as men grow beards—sheets are damp, and
commercial gents are chilly; which I am happy to say they are all—to a
man.
Robert.
Very true, very true; they must have their boots cleaned, and their
breakfasts and dinners won't put themselves on the table.
James.
No, no more will their portmanteaus walk into their rooms, or the fire and
candles light themselves.
Smin.
Oh, my dear friends ! you deceive yourselves, our knell is rung.
(rises) Listen to the " Biffin"—(reading) " Giving
fees to servants at hotels is encouraging bare-faced robbery."
Servants.
Oh, oh !—Shame, shame !
Smin.
" I might as well be asked to pay the shopman a shilling who serves me to a
yard of calico, as eighteen-pence to a waiter for bringing me a glass of
ale."
Robert|James.
Oh, shameful, shameful!
Mary.
Oh, shouldn't I like to warm his bed!
Smin.
Here's another shabby fellow who complains of being skinned in the Isle of
Wight—thinks three-and-sixpence too much for a bed at the top of the house.
Omnes.
Oh, oh!
Smin.
And five shillings exorbitant for a coffee-room dinner of haunch of mutton
and currant jelly!
Mary.
Oh, oh ! The miserable wretch, where could he have lived to grumble at
three-and-sixpence for a sea view, or expect to indulge in currant
jelly without paying for it? There ought to be an Act of Parliament to oblige
such skinflints to keep at home.
Smin|James|Robert
To be sure—to be sure!
Mary.
People who can't afford, or who are too mean to pay genteel prices, have no
business to travel; they only set a bad example and make real gentlefolks
inquisitive.
Smin|James|Robert
Certainly—certainly !
Robert.
There was a case in pint only yesterday:—I puts the portmanter of one of them
shabs on the bus, and of course touches my hat as usual. What do you think he
guved me ?—you'll never guess—a fourpenny piece !
Omnes.
Oh, oh!
Robert.
Hactually!
Smin|James|Mary
Dreadful—dreadful!
Robert.
But that arnt the wust: another gent who was witness to the swindle, one of
our respectable customers, takes the hint and what do you think he
guved me?—you'll be flabbygasted with horror! —threepennorth o' halfpence !
Omnes.
Oh!
Robert.
It's a hactual fact—hactually!
James|Mary
Oh, oh! frightful—frightful!
Smin.
The world's coming to an untimely end. What is to be done, friends ?—if we
don't take some strong measures to stop this terrible epidemic we shall soon
come to wages like common servants, and our masters will be obliged to bring
down their prices to the level of the pastry-cook who sets up to oppose us next
door—and breakfasts, dines, and teas people at a shilling a head.
Omnes.
Oh, oh, oh!
Smin.
Oh, as Mr. Brooke says, in Hamlet, " Our nose is out of joint,
Hotello's occupation's gone! " (sinks into a chair; Mary, James,
and Robert seat themselves in imitation ; a large gate bell rings without; all
start up) There's somebody by the express, quick, quick, to your posts,
though I dare say it's only a sandwich and a glass of ale.
Exeunt Robert and James, C. R.
Mary.
Never mind, Augustus dear, we shall soon be married and be gentlefolks, and
not care for anything; we're not the first who have been ruined by the pressure
of the times. Shake yourself up, like my feather beds, and do as the Emperor of
Russia will do when he is forced to swallow the Turkey rhubarb, resign the
Principalities with a good grace, and take a slice off something else to make up
for them.
Exit, C.
Smin.
Ah, I'm afraid there is no chance, the public are determined now to
do as they have been done by, and the retribution will be
terrible.
Enter James, Robert, Edward, William, Frederick, Thomas, and Alphonse,
bowing on Captain Fitzchizzle, R. C.
James.
This way, sir, if you please. Candles, Thomas.
Robert.
Take your luggage, sir ?
Robert takes his carpet bag, James his hat box, Frederick his umbrella,
Thomas his plaid, and Alphonse his cap till at the same moment, and go off with
great ceremony, C.
Fitz.
(looking at them, laughing") That's a charming division of
labour, they'll be doing it by machinery next. (sits at table,
R.)
Smin.
(advancing, and leaning over table) Dine, sar?
Fitz.
Of course; dining is a good old-fashioned custom that I have great pleasure
in keeping up, (aside) though it is often under difficulties.
What have you got? Pass over your chops and steaks and veal cutlets, and come to
something respectable.
Smin.
(aside) A gentleman at last. You can have a bit of fish,
sar.
Fitz.
Ah, yes, of course. (aside) A good bit I hope. What kind?
Smin.
Salmon cutlets, fried soles, stewed eels, whiting, gudgeons—
Fitz.
Gudgeons?
Smin.
Very fine, sar.
Fitz.
Where do you catch them—here?
Smin.
Yes, sir, fresh every day.
Fitz.
Very well, I'll take them on your recommendation. No white bait ?
Smin.
No sar, not in season, we had some beautiful last summer.
Fitz.
Ah, so we had fine weather. Well, what next ?
Smin.
You'd like a little soup.
Fitz.
Yes, yes, what have you in that way ?
Smin.
Mulligatawny—mock turtle—giblet—ox-tail.
Fitz.
No a-la-Reine—or Bisque ?
Smin.
No, sir, but we've some capital "bully."
Fitz.
Bully?
Smin.
Yes, sir, our house is famous for it.
Fitz.
So I've heard—no, I'd rather eschew your bully, and fall back on your
ox-tail—go on.
Smin.
Boiled chicken.
Fitz.
Au champignions—go on.
Smin.
Haunch of mutton.
Fitz.
Currant jelly—go on.
Smin.
(smiling, aside) He must be a lord by the selection of his
dinner. (smiling and bowing) A woodcock, my lord—or a wild duck
?
Fitz.
Yes, yes, or a hare, or a pheasant, or a brace of partridges.
Smin.
Oh, he's a duke at the very least. What wine, your grace?
Fitz.
Well, Moselle—pretty good?
Smin.
Excellent, your grace—all our wines are from the first cellars.
(aside) Water Lane and Cheapside.
Fitz.
Ah, well then, a little Moselle. How's your claret ?
Smin.
Perfect, your grace—there's none to match it in France.
Fitz.
(aside) I should think not. Ah, very well then, ice a bottle
or two, and I'll try it. A little fruit, a cup of coffee, and a glass of curacoa
will about do me till supper. (crosses to L.)
Smin.
(aside) I should think it would.
Fitz.
Let's have them directly, (throws himself on a sofa)
Smin.
Instantly, your grace. (aside) What a difference to the Biffin
shabs, who order a mutton chop and a potato, and think themselves robbed if we
charge them half-a-crown. This is evidently a nobleman, who lives "regardless of
expense," and votes the Times a humbug.
Exit, C.
Fitz.
(laughing) Another victim to the great extortion question that
is agitating the hotel interest and laying the foundation of a reform bill.
Dining on small means is now the easiest of arts, for such is the terror of a
show-up in the Times, that the slightest hint that you will draw the
"Thunderer's" attention to your "little bill" is sufficient to curtail it of its
unfair proportions, and bring it within the compass of the shallowest pocket.
Thanks to this popular commotion, I have lived like a prince for the last three
months at the best hotels for less money than I could vegetate on steamed mutton
and warmed-up potatoes at a cook-shop.
Enter Sminker with one pair of wax lights—Robert with another— and
Alphonse with another, then other Waiters with dinner service; during the
following they lay the cloth, &c.
Fitz.
There they go—three pairs of wax lights, ha, ha, ha ! when you resolve on a
do, there's nothing like doing it in style, ha, ha, ha ! How astonished they'll
be presently! it's an ill wind that blows nobody any good, so I've taken
advantage of the panic to give mine hosts a slight return for past favours. The
illustrious Soyer says, "Tell me what you eat and I'll tell you what you are."
Ha, ha, ha! I think my little spread would puzzle him,—I'm afraid he'd give me
credit for more respectability than I deserve; although good dinners, like good
coats, have a great influence on the world's respect, and three courses and
claret are often easier to come at than a mutton chop and a pint of
porter:—Don't be an age with that dinner, I'm getting ravenous.
James.
Yes, my lord; directly, my lord.
Fitz.
Oh, give me my carpet bag, I want something.
James.
Robert, his lordship's carpet bag.
Robert.
Yes, my lord; directly, my lord, (calling) Carpet bag!
(Alphonse throws it at him)
Fitz.
What's the name of this house ?
James.
The Golden Fleece, my lord.
Fitz.
Ah! (Robert advances with bag) Oh, the bag; give it me here.
(opens bag, a letter falls from it which Robert picks up, while
Fitzchizzle searches for and takes out a memorandum book)
Robert.
A letter, my lord, you dropped. (looks at letter—starts, and catches
convulsively at James) Eh ! oh ! oh !
Fitz.
Eh ! (taking letter) what is the matter ?
Robert.
(stares at him aghast) No—nothing—nothing! (aside to
James) It's the very identical horse and chay—Biffin himself— we're
dished—let us go and tell Sminker.
Exeunt Waiters, in great agitation.
Fitz.
Ha, ha, ha! my first shot has hit its mark, the gudgeons bite freely,
(the large and several small bells ring violently, L. C. — looking
off) Oh, they've raised the house—the whole establishment's turning out
to inspect me. (sits on sofa and writes in book)
Sminker, James, Robert, Frederick, Edward, William, Thomas, Mary, a
Chambermaid, a Man Cook, a Woman Cook, and Alphonse appear peeping, C, and come
down in line, R.
Smin.
(trembling) Are you sure, Robert ?
Robert.
Quite, sir. I saw it with my own eyes; the letter was addressed "A. Biffin,
Esquire.
Smin.
Dreadful—he's come to report us; see, see, he's booking us already.
Fitz.
(writing) The Golden Fleece, what a suggestive name! I think
this will be a very strong case.
Smin.
(aside) Oh, we're settled.
Fitz.
Those servants appear more than ordinarily rapacious.
Smin.
Do you hear, do you hear—shan't we catch it.
Fitz.
Especially the head waiter.
Smin.
(groaning faintly) Oh, dear.
Fitz.
I'm afraid I shall be obliged to make an example of him.
Smin.
Send for the undertaker, and write my epitaph—a head waiter, cut off in his
prime—murdered by a Biffin.
Fitz.
However, I'll give them a chance; if the charges are anything within reason,
I'll do them justice.
Smin.
(aside, and seizing Mary's arm) Oh, I've a brilliant
thought—I'll bake the biffin—and turn his visit to our advantage— we'll charge
the dinner less than it costs, and throw in the wax and attendance gratis, that
will be sure to make him speak well of us, and the Times will be our
best friend.
Mary.
Capital. Still I'd advise him not to have his bed warmed.
Fitz.
Waiter!
Mary and all the Servants go off in great confusion, C. L., with the
exception of Sminker.
Smin.
Yes, my lord.
Fitz.
Hollo, hollo—what's that? (pointing to Servants going off)
Smin.
That, my lord—oh, a train coming in.
Fitz.
It's a good deal more like a train going out—I should like to wash my hands
before I dine; call the chambermaid.
Smin.
Yes, my lord, (calling) James—Chambermaid.
James.
(at door, calling) Chambermaid !
Fitz.
You'll take care that the dinner is properly served, and the wine carefully
iced.
Smin.
Yes, my lord. (aside) I shall die of spontaneous
combustion.
Enter Mary, with a jug of water on a salver.
Smin.
The chambermaid, my lord.
Fitz.
Ah, very pretty girl! (chucking her under the chin) How are
you, Mary ?
Smin.
(aside, uneasy) Mary ! does he know her?
Fitz.
Where are you going to roost me, my dear ? Not in the back garret I hope
?
Smin.
(quickly) Oh, dear no, my lord. (to Mary,
pointedly) In the blue damask, (to Fitzchizzle) on the
first floor, with bow windows facing the sea.
Fitz.
Ah, that's your sort, I hate garrets— (aside) too much of them
at home. Show the way, my dear. (chucking her under the chin) You
are a deuced pretty girl, Mary; there's no mistake about that.
Mary.
(smiling and giggling coquettishly) Oh, sir, you noblemen talk
such nonsense! (aside) He's very polite, however, and by no means
ill-looking; he needn't be afraid, I have changed my mind about the warming
pan.—this way, sir. (going up)
Fitz.
(making love to her) I shall stay a month here, 'pon my life I
shall—you're the prettiest girl I ever saw; you are, you rogue, you are!
(tries to put his arm round her waist and kiss her, she giggles and beats
down his hands)
Mary.
Ha'done, ha'done, ha'done ! I never! be quiet, you great fool, do !
They go off, struggling, C. R.
Smin.
(who has been in an agony of jealousy) That's pleasant for
me—the future Mrs. Sminker. (piteously) And she likes it. Oh, I
shall commit suicide with a bottle of our pale sherry; robbed of my perquisites,
and made jealous of my wife. (furiously) Oh, I could—
Enter Mary, C.
Mary.
What, Augustus, dear, (laughing) quarrel with Mr. Biffin!
Smin.
(furiously) Yes, yes, kill him—eat him—(crying)
Oh, Mary, Mary, how could you behave so cruelly ?
Mary.
(laughing) I thought I was remarkably kind.
Smin.
To me—to me—not him. You should have stopped him, given him in charge to the
police; but no, no! (crying) you liked it—you liked it!
Mary.
(coaxing him) No, no, Augustus, dear! It was my regard for you
that prevented me from making a disturbance ; it was only to get you a good
report in the Times that I let him kiss me.
Smin.
Oh, oh! (crying) this is worse than the French reign of
terror. Then people were only afraid of losing their heads, but now—don't put
yours in the way of danger again—the Times reporters are as merciless
as Robespierre—there's no stopping the liberty of the press.
Enter Fitzchizzle.
Fitz.
Now then, waiter, dinner ready? (kissing his hand to Mary)
Don't go away, Mary. Stay and wait on me.
Smin.
(with terrible grin, suppressing his rage) No, don't go away,
Mary; stay and wait on the gentleman. (looking savagely at Mary)
Tell the waiters to serve. (aside, seeing Mary smile at
Fitzchizzle) Oh, she likes it—she likes it! I shall be victimized for
another favourable report.
Enter James, Robert, Frederick, Thomas, Alphonse, &C., with soup,
wine, plates, &c.
Smin.
Dinner, my lord.
Fitz.
Ah! that's your sort. (aside) What a regiment! If I had to pay
for them. Oh! now, then, fire away. (Fitzchizzle at table; Sminker stands
in front, R., and waves his hand; James takes off the cover; Mary gives plate;
Fitzchizzle helps himself, finds, though the tureen is very large, there is very
little soup in it; Sminker observes this, and waves his hand to
James)
Smin.
Tilt it, James. (James tilts the tureen and Fitzchizzle helps himself
from the the corner; the Page presents some toasted bread)
Fitz.
I say, my friend, your ox-tail is rather short!
Smin.
Yes, sir, it has been pulled a great deal to-day. (Sminker waves his
hand; James takes away the tureen and passes it to Thomas, who passes it to
Frederick and Page, who passes it to Robert, who takes it off)
Fitz.
(L., looking after the tureen) Damme, that's sharp practice !
(Mary presents bread and Thomas the cruet stand; Sminker waves his hand;
James brings wine and hands bottle to Mary, who fills a glass and gives it to
Fitzchizzle)
N. B.—The whole of this business must be managed with great precision and
rapidity, the idea being to show the division of labour practised in
hotels.
Fitz.
(nodding to Mary) My love to you, my dear.
Smin.
(stamping with rage) Oh, you hippopotamus!
Fitz.
Eh ! (looking at him) What ?
Smin.
(recovering himself with a ghastly smile, screwing up his
napkin) Nothing; nothing, my lord! (strikes Page with
napkin) Attend to your business, you little rascal!
Fitz.
Oh ! I thought you addressed me.
Smin.
Oh, dear no ! You are not a little rascal. I merely— (wipes his face
with the napkin and waves his hand for Mary to go; James mistakes the signal and
takes away the wine)
Fitz.
(seizing the bottle) No, no, my friend, not quite so fast.
(Mary pours out wine and Fitzchizzle drinks, nodding as before; Sminker
waves his hand; James takes away soup plate; Frederick gives another;
Fitzchizzle, not being aware of the change, puts his spoon in an empty
plate)
Fitz.
Eh! hallo! Sharp's the word here. I've only had three spoonsful.
Smin.
(going to Mary and speaking aside in a rage) You've no
business here—go away, (the fish is placed on the table and taken away
with the same ceremony)
Mary.
I shan't—it's all for your good. He likes to have me to wait upon him, it
keeps him in good humour. Look pleasant, he's looking at you.
Smin.
(making a convulsive effort to smile) Oh, what a victim I am
to conservative politics !
Fitz.
Beautiful gudgeons—so exquisitely browned !
Smin.
He little thinks how he's being browned! (aside to Mary) Won't
you go ?
Mary.
No, no ! I'm very comfortable—don't bother. Another class of Moselle, sir?
(pours out wine—Fitzchizzle squeezes her hand; Sminker sees him, and in a
great rage exclaims, " hollo! hollo!")
Fitz.
Eh! What's the matter ?
Smin.
(putting his napkin to his cheek and stamping) Oh !—a tooth! a
tooth ! Agony ! agony ! (screws his napkin, looks out for the Page, who
guesses his intention and runs away—aside) If he goes any further, I
shall take the pale sherry.
A Waiter brings on a covered dish, supposed to he the boiled fowl, and
another the partridges, two others bring covered vegetable dishes, which they
place on the table; then Robert brings on haunch of mutton, which is passed from
one waiter to the other and placed on the table; Sminker takes from sideboard a
large carving knife and steel, and sharpens knife, R., looking ferociously at
Fitzchizzle, who is coqueting with Mary.
Smin.
(flourishing knife) Oh, shouldn't I like to have a cut at him!
(advancing) Mutton, sar! (he takes hold of the shank of
the mutton, cuts with savage flourishes two very small slices and puts them with
some gravy, which he takes from dish with a large spoon on a plate, which James
holds; at this moment Sminker sees Fitzchizzle offering Mary a glass of wine,
and in his rage strikes the plate so violently with the spoon that it breaks;
James gives another plate and takes up the slice of mutton and places it before
Fitzchizzle ; the Page brings currant jelly from sideboard, taking by the way a
sly spoonful, and gives it to Mary, who helps Fitzchizzle and returns it to
Page, who eats the whole of it; Sminker stamps and waves his hand; James takes
away the mutton and passes it to the other Waiters, who pass it off; the Page
takes away the fowl, and James the partridges, and as they are running off with
them meet, and the Page falls—a scramble and a bustle; Sminker beats the Page,
who goes off bellowing, pushed about by the Waiters; Fitzchizzle takes advantage
of the bustle to put his arm round Mary's waist; Sminker turns and sees him, and
takes Mary up in his arms and carries her off, C.—Waiters enter and clear
table)
Fitz.
Capital dinner, excellently served! Now put the claret on the table, and
bring the bill.
(James puts claret and dessert on side table by sofa)
Smin.
The bill, my lord ? I thought—
Fitz.
So did I, but I've changed my mind and shall go to town.
Smin.
Nothing here, my lord, to drive you away I hope—
Fitz.
Oh, dear no, on the contrary (smiling) I should like nothing
better than a long sojourn here (aside) on the same easy terms
the dinners are excellent; the apartments superb ; the attendance unrivalled;
and (poking him in the ribs) the chambermaid's a divinity !
(saunters up to sofa, L., when his back is turned, Sminker squares at him
with great rage)
Smin.
(endeavouring to laugh) Yes, yes, my lord!
(aside) Oh, the vampire, ain't I glad he's going; delighted
you're satisfied, my lord! I was afraid there was something wrong—the bill
directly, my lord! (aside) Oh, if I could charge him
for kissing Mary—wouldn't I pepper him.
Exit, C.
Fitz.
(sitting on sofa) Capital claret and if I mistake not,
remarkably cheap, ha, ha, ha ! What a consoling reflection it is for men of
brains that the world does not gain wisdom with age, and that the supply of
geese is always equal to the supply of foxes— (laughing) my bill
will be a curiosity, so free from asperities, so mild and pleasant—so
deferential to the Times.
Enter Sminker.
Fitz.
Oh, here's my friend, pale lemon, with the important document—what a charming
specimen he is of the genus, Waiter! He must have been born in a white choker
and pumps !
Smin.
(aside, looking at bill) Now I think I have done him
particularly brown, there's salt enough here to tickle the tail of the wildest
bird. Ahem ! (bowing, presenting bill on salver) The bill, my
lord!
Fitz.
Ah, let me see. (taking bill carelessly) I suppose it's a
woodcock. (looking at bill, starts up astonished) Eh ! what ? no,
no, this must be a mistake—it's impossible.
Smin.
All correct, my lord, I believe—our usual charges. Ahem !
(aside) I hope there's no punishment for professional bounces; if
there is—I'm bespoke.
Fitz.
I'm thunderstruck! (reading bill) Dinner, one and sixpence,
what ? For soup, fish, chicken, haunch of mutton, currant jelly, partridges,
tart and dessert.
Smin.
Yes, my lord, quite correct. (aside) Ahem, I feel the top; of
my tongue begining to blister.
Fitz.
Pint of moselle—no, no, impossible ! Two shillings !
Smin.
Quite right, my lord we buy our wines in the wood, Hum !
(aside) Logwood.
Fitz.
Claret—St. Julian, bottle—two and sixpence ; wonderful! Do you buy that in
the wood, too ?
Smin.
No, my lord, we make it—Ahem! I mean we take it in large quantities: so we
can afford to throw it in at a low figure. Ahem ! (aside) I very
nearly let the cat out of the bag.
Fitz.
Total, six shillings ! Six shillings! No apartments—no wax lights—no
attendance.
Smin.
No, my lord, (dolefully) in obedience to the wishes of the
public, we have reduced our charges to the lowest remunerative scale, and we
consider any demand for apartments or lights to be inconsistent with honesty ;
and fees to servants downright robbery; Ahem ! (aside)
Vide Times, Where shall I go to for this ?
Fitz.
I'm perfectly astounded !
Smin.
(aside) I intended you to be so.
Fitz.
I expected to have been charged five-and-twenty shillings, at the very
least.
Smin.
(aside) If you'd got off for double, you'd have been
lucky.
Fitz.
Well, as you say it's correct, there's the money. (giving
half-a-sovereign, which Sminker receives on the salver, on which he has
presented the bill) The charges are perfectly fabulous !
Smin.
(aside) They are. Ahem! (presenting four shillings on
salver) The change, my lord.
Fitz.
No, no; oblige me by accepting it for your civility and attention.
Smin.
Excuse me, my lord, our rules strictly prohibit me from receiving the
smallest gratuity, the honour of waiting on your lordship is sufficient.
(aside) If I hadn't the Times before my eyes, wouldn't I
oblige him.
Fitz.
Then—for the chambermaid.
Smin.
She is included in the bill. (aside, pathetically) Kisses and
all.
Fitz.
Indeed! Oh, well, I shall come here again.
Smin.
(aside, doubling his fist) I wouldn't advise you.
Fitz.
You shall hear of this in the Times, both sides of the question
should be heard. I find, there are hotels where they have a conscience.
Smin.
(aside) It's not at the "Golden Fleece "—ahem ! Oh, my lord,
you are too kind ! (aside, joyfully) He's caught and cured as
brown as kippered salmon !
Fitz.
Now, have the kindness to send the Boots with my luggage.
Smin.
It's all ready, my lord—Robert, his lordship's luggage!
Enter Robert and Waiters—Mary and Page with the carpet bag, hat box, cap,
umbrella, and shawl.
Smin.
Allow me, my lord. (helps him on with shawl, and in putting it round
his waist, pulls him violently; then as he tucks in the ends in front, punches
him)
Fitz.
Oh, don't trouble yourself!
Mary.
(giving hat) Your cap, sir.
Fitz.
Thank you, my dear. (to Sminker) Included in the bill ?
Smin.
(woefully) Yes, my lord!
Fitz.
Then, I'll make up the half-dozen. (kisses her—Sminker strikes him—he
turns— Sminker strikes Page—the Waiters go off with carpet bag, &c.)
Good-bye, Mary dear—good-bye, pale lemon— ha, ha, ha! you'll recollect my visit.
(aside) Ha, ha, ha ! I shouldn't like to be the next
customer.
Exit, C. R.
Smin.
Huzza! I've muzzled him, and revenged the whole profession—but you, Mary—how
could you aggravate me so? you ought to have set your face against his
impertinence.
Mary.
(smiling archly) So I did, and you saw how he served me.
(laughing) Never mind, dear, charge it in the next bill.
Smin.
I will, I will—my wounded feelings shall appear in the attendance for the
next twelve months. (great disturbance without)
Mr. Gubbins.
(without) I won't pay it—I won't!
James.
(without) You must, sir—you must !
Smin.
Heyday ! what's the matter—James, Robert, what is it ?
James.
(entering) Oh, an old gentleman in No. 9 objecting to his
bill, he says its a swindle and he'll expose us.
Smin.
(mapping his fingers) Pooh, pooh ! stupid old fogy—the Times
will be with us, let him do his worst.
Mr. G.
(without in a great rage) Humbug, sir, humbug! there never was
such an infamous imposition.
Enter Mr. Gubbins, frantic with rage, flourishing a thick stick and
reading a bill.
Mr. G.
I'll write to the Times—I'll—I'll expose the robbery to the world—
I'll—damme, was there ever such a bill? (reading bill and flourishing
stick between each item) Luncheon ; a ham sandwich, two shillings; ale
—a glass of very bad draught Bass—one shilling; wax lights—they would light
them—two and sixpence; apartments, for ten minutes, three and sixpence ;
attendance—four grinning vagabonds in white neckcloths and perspiration—one and
sixpence. Ten and sixpence for a sandwich and a glass of ale! monstrous,
monstrous!—I won't pay it! I won't pay it!
Smin.
(calmly) I beg pardon, sir, but you must, it's our regular
charge; ours is a genteel hotel; we do the thing genteely, and we don't want any
but genteel customers. Robert, look that this person's luggage don't leave the
house.
Mr. G.
What, what! (struggling with Waiters for his carpet bag and great
coat, which he at last recovers) Would you dare, you scoundrels? I'll,
I'll (another disturbance without, and the voice of Miss Standup is heard
in great anger, screaming)
Miss S.
(without) Go along, you wretches, go along. Stop me at your
peril.
Enter Miss Standup, C, in great excitement followed by Waiters who are
trying to take from her a large straw basket.
Miss S.
You shan't have it, you shan't have it. (gets the basket away from
Robert and beats Page and Waiters with her umbrella) I've paid your
swindling bill, touch me again at your peril.
Smin.
What is all this ?
Mr. G.
(coming down, L.) Give it them, ma'am: I'll back you.
Miss S.
Impertinent villains! (to Mr. G.) I ordered a slight
refreshment ; they brought me a consumptive chicken, and a Vauxhall slice of
ham; I didn't eat three mouthfuls—they charged me, dinner, five shillings ;
apartments, three and sixpence ; wax lights, half-a-crown; and attendance two
shillings! Did you ever hear of anything so monstrous ?
Mr. G.
Yes, ma'am, I've been diddled in exactly the same way, but I'll
(flourishing stick, Waiters avoid him in alarm)
Miss S.
Knowing the uselesseness of disputing the imposition, I paid the shameful
demand, but, though I am a young woman, I am an old traveller, and determined to
be even with the wretches. (taking fowl and ham from her basket)
Here is the chicken and the ham, and (showing them) here are the
wax lights ! I've paid exorbitantly for them: they are mine, and
(flourishing umbrella) I'll die before they shall be taken from
me. (crosses to L.)
Mr. G.
Bravo, mum, bravo! I admire your spirit. (giving his arm to Miss
S.) Tuck yourself under my arm, mum, and let's fight our way to the
street: out of the way, you swindling vagabonds, out of the way! (going
up with Miss S., flourishes stick and umbrella)
Miss S.
Stop them, stop them, send for the police! (in the midst of the
confusion Fitzchizzle appears at C. door. Tableau)
Smin.
Mr. Biffin, oh! (fainting on Mary's shoulder) We're bowled
out.
Miss S.
Mr. Biffin, no, no, this is my nephew, Captain Fitzchizzle.
Smin.
(paralyzed with horror) Fitzchizzle ! not Mr. Biffin! not the
writer of the letters in the Times! Oh, my ox-tail, gudgeons, chickens,
haunch of mutton, currant jelly, partridges, Moselle, and claret! I'm caught in
my own trap.
Fitz.
(laughing) You are, old fellow, caught and cured as brown as
kippered salmon. I took advantage of your insane hope of propitiating the
leading journal with a fabulous bill, and have to thank you for a splendid
dinner on remarkably reasonable terms.
Smin.
Oh, I must commit suicide ! Mary, fetch me a bottle of our pale sherry.
Mary.
No, no, Augustus, dear! you forget we're going to be married.
Fitz.
What, you marry young—(laughing aside) Oh, this accounts for
the toothache ; is it possible that a pretty girl like you can be so rash.
Mary.
(crossing to Fitzchizzle and curtseying) Yes, if you please,
sir. I must go with the times—husbands and provisions are getting scarcer every
day.
Fitz.
(aside, looking at Sminker) Poor little devil—he'd better have
taken the pale sherry. I wish you joy, my dear! permit me to——
Smin.
(taking her away, R.) No, no, I beg your pardon! you've
settled your bill, and gratuities to servants are strictly prohibited.
Fitz.
Very well—then good-bye. Stay! (pointing to Mr. Gubbins and Miss
Standup) haven't you a little error to correct here ?
Mr. G.
Aye—are you going to make me pay ten shillings for a mouthful of stale bread
and ham ? (returns L.)
Miss S.
(crossing to Sminker) And am I to be robbed—(taking
fowl from her basket)—of my dear little chicken ? (returns,
L.)
Smin.
No, no, I'll take off fifty ! a hundred per cent.! anything to get rid of
you—but how am I to carry on business in future; if I go on in this way I shall
be ruined.
Fitz.
No, no, let experience make you wise. Base your charges on commercial
integrity, and you needn't fear the Times: to correct abuses—not to
fetter honest industry, is the object of the public's appeal. Abolish gaudy
furniture, unwished-for plate, and useless extravagance, and you'll find John
Bull will not fly to the continent to take "his ease at his inn," but cheerfully
pay for the comforts you provide him at home. (to Audience)
Fitz.
We've tried to show how good hotels will fill, Would you cram ours, endorse
our little bill.
Mr. Gubbins. Miss Standup. Fitzchizzle. Sminker. Mary.
Curtain.
London: Printed by Thomas Scott, 1. Warwick Court, Holborn.