Little Britain | Page 8

neighborhood declared they would have nothing more to say to the
Lambs. It is true that Mrs. Lamb, when she had no engagements with
her quality acquaintance, would give little humdrum tea-junketings to
some of her old cronies, "quite," as she would say, "in a friendly way;"
and it is equally true that her invitations were always accepted, in spite
of all previous vows to the contrary. Nay, the good ladies would sit and
be delighted with the music of the Miss Lambs, who would condescend
to strum an Irish melody for them on the piano; and they would listen
with wonderful interest to Mrs. Lamb's anecdotes of Alderman
Plunket's family, of Portsokenward, and the Miss Timberlakes, the rich
heiresses of Crutched-Friars; but then they relieved their consciences,
and averted the reproaches of their confederates, by canvassing at the
next gossiping convocation everything that had passed, and pulling the
Lambs and their rout all to pieces.
The only one of the family that could not be made fashionable was the
retired butcher himself. Honest Lamb, in spite of the meekness of his
name, was a rough, hearty old fellow, with the voice of a lion, a head of
black hair like a shoe- brush, and a broad face mottled like his own beef.
It was in vain that the daughters always spoke of him as "the old
gentleman," addressed him as "papa," in tones of infinite softness, and
endeavored to coax him into a dressing-gown and slippers, and other
gentlemanly habits. Do what they might, there was no keeping down
the butcher. His sturdy nature would break through all their glozings.
He had a hearty vulgar good-humor that was irrepressible. His very

jokes made his sensitive daughters shudder; and he persisted in wearing
his blue cotton coat of a morning, dining at two o'clock, and having a
"bit of sausage with his tea."
He was doomed, however, to share the unpopularity of his family. He
found his old comrades gradually growing cold and civil to him; no
longer laughing at his jokes; and now and then throwing out a fling at
"some people," and a hint about "quality binding." This both nettled
and perplexed the honest butcher; and his wife and daughters, with the
consummate policy of the shrewder sex, taking advantage of the
circumstance, at length prevailed upon him to give up his afternoon's
pipe and tankard at Wagstaff's; to sit after dinner by himself, and take
his pint of port--a liquor he detested--and to nod in his chair in solitary
and dismal gentility.
The Miss Lambs might now be seen flaunting along the streets in
French bonnets, with unknown beaux; and talking and laughing so loud
that it distressed the nerves of every good lady within hearing. They
even went so far as to attempt patronage, and actually induced a French
dancing-master to set up in the neighborhood; but the worthy folks of
Little Britain took fire at it, and did so persecute the poor Gaul that he
was fain to pack up fiddle and dancing-pumps, and decamp with such
precipitation that he absolutely forgot to pay for his lodgings.
I had flattered myself, at first, with the idea that all this fiery
indignation on the part of the community was merely the overflowing
of their zeal for good old English manners, and their horror of
innovation; and I applauded the silent contempt they were so
vociferous in expressing, for upstart pride, French fashions, and the
Miss Lambs. But I grieve to say that I soon perceived the infection had
taken hold; and that my neighbors, after condemning, were beginning
to follow their example. I overheard my landlady importuning her
husband to let their daughters have one quarter at French and music,
and that they might take a few lessons in quadrille. I even saw, in the
course of a few Sundays, no less than five French bonnets, precisely
like those of the Miss Lambs, parading about Little Britain.
I still had my hopes that all this folly would gradually die away; that

the Lambs might move out of the neighborhood; might die, or might
run away with attorneys' apprentices; and that quiet and simplicity
might be again restored to the community. But unluckily a rival power
arose. An opulent oilman died, and left a widow with a large jointure
and a family of buxom daughters. The young ladies had long been
repining in secret at the parsimony of a prudent father, which kept
down all their elegant aspirings. Their ambition, being now no longer
restrained, broke out into a blaze, and they openly took the field against
the family of the butcher. It is true that the Lambs, having had the first
start, had naturally an advantage of them in the fashionable career.
They could speak a little bad