The Book of Snobs | Page 7

disagreeable things in society which you are bound to take down, and
to do so with a smiling face.
CHAPTER II

THE SNOB ROYAL
Long since at the commencement of the reign of her present Gracious
Majesty, it chanced 'on a fair summer evening,' as Mr. James would say,
that three or four young cavaliers were drinking a cup of wine after
dinner at the hostelry called the 'King's Arms,' kept by Mistress
Anderson, in the royal village of Kensington. 'Twas a balmy evening,
and the wayfarers looked out on a cheerful scene. The tall elms of the
ancient gardens were in full leaf, and countless chariots of the nobility
of England whirled by to the neighbouring palace, where princely
Sussex (whose income latterly only allowed him to give tea-parties)
entertained his royal niece at a state banquet. When the caroches of the
nobles had set down their owners at the banquethall, their varlets and
servitors came to quaff a flagon of nut-brown ale in the 'King's Arms'
gardens hard by. We watched these fellows from our lattice. By Saint
Boniface 'twas a rare sight!
The tulips in Mynheer Van Dunck's gardens were not more gorgeous
than the liveries of these pie-coated retainers. All the flowers of the
field bloomed in their ruffled bosoms, all the hues of the rainbow
gleamed in their plush breeches, and the long-caned ones walked up
and down the garden with that charming solemnity, that delightfull
quivering swagger of the calves, which has always had a frantic
fascination for us. The walk was not wide enough for them as the
shoulder-knots strutted up and down it in canary, and crimson, and
light blue.
Suddenly, in the midst of their pride, a little bell was rung, a side door
opened, and (after setting down their Royal Mistress) her Majesty's
own crimson footmen, with epaulets and black plushes, came in.
It was pitiable to see the other poor Johns slink off at this arrival! Not
one of the honest private Plushes could stand up before the Royal
Flunkeys. They left the walk: they sneaked into dark holes and drank
tbeir beer in silence. The Royal Plush kept possession of the garden
until the Royal Plush dinner was announced, when it retired, and we
heard from the pavilion where they dined, conservative cheers, and
speeches, and Kentish fires. The other Flunkeys we never saw more.

My dear Flunkeys, so absurdly conceited at one moment and so abject
at the next, are but the types of their masters in this world. HE WHO
MEANLY ADMIRES MEAN THINGS IS A SNOB--perhaps that is a
safe definition of the character.
And this is why I have, with the utmost respect, ventured to place The
Snob Royal at the head of my list, causing all others to give way before
him, as the Flunkeys before the royal representative in Kensington
Gardens. To say of such and such a Gracious Sovereign that he is a
Snob, is but to say that his Majesty is a man. Kings, too, are men and
Snobs. In a country where Snobs are in the majority, a prime one,
surely, cannot be unfit to govern. With us they have succeeded to
admiration.
For instance, James I. was a Snob, and a Scotch Snob, than which the
world contains no more offensive creature. He appears to have had not
one of the good qualities of a man--neither courage, nor generosity, nor
honesty, nor brains; but read what the great Divines and Doctors of
England said about him! Charles II., his grandson, was a rogue, but not
a Snob; whilst Louis XIV., his old squaretoes of a contemporary,--the
great worshipper of Bigwiggery--has always struck me as a most
undoubted and Royal Snob.
I will not, however, take instances from our own country of Royal
Snobs, but refer to a neighbouring kingdom, that of Brentford--and its
monarch, the late great and lamented Gorgius IV. With the same
humility with which the footmen at the 'King's Arms' gave way before
the Plush Royal, the aristocracy of the Brentford nation bent down and
truckled before Gorgius, and proclaimed him the first gentleman in
Europe. And it's a wonder to think what is the gentlefolks' opinion of a
gentleman, when they gave Gorgius such a title.
What is it to be a gentleman? Is it to be honest, to be gentle, to be
generous, to be brave, to be wise, and, possessing all these qualities, to
exercise them in the most graceful outward manner? Ought a
gentleman to be a loyal son, a true husband, and honest father? Ought
his life to be decent--his bills to be paid--his tastes to be high and
elegant--his aims in life lofty and noble? In a word, ought not the

Biography of a First Gentleman in Europe to be of such