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In a _toady's_ key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness.
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--surely he would instantly wriggle out of the withering sight of man! But Mr. Tuft was not an everyday toady. Being a clever man, it occurred to him as calculated infinitely to enhance the value of his attentions, if he could get them to be regarded as those of a man of some ability and reputation. So reasonable a wish, as thus to rise to eminence in the calling in life to which he had devoted himself--viz. toadyism--stimulated him to considerable exertion, which was in time rewarded by a measure of success; for he began to be looked on as _something_ of a literary man. Then he would spend his mornings in reading up, in those quarters whence he might cull materials for display in society at a later period of the day; when he would watch his opportunity, or, if none presented itself, make one, by diverting the current of conversation into the channel on which was the gay and varied bordering of his very recent acquisitions. All his knowledge was of this gossiping _pro hâc vice_ character.----He was very skilful in administering his flattery. Did he dine with his Grace, or his Lordship, whose speech in the House appeared in that or the preceding day's newspapers? Mr. Tuft got it up carefully, and also the speech in answer to it, with a double view--to show himself at home in the question! and then to differ a little with his Grace, or his Lordship, in order to be presently convinced, and set right by them! Or when conversation turned upon the topics which had, over-night, called up his Grace or his Lordship on his legs, Mr. Tuft would softly break in by observing that such and such a point had been
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and on being apprised of, and receiving a courteous bow from, the great man entitled to the undesigned compliment, look _so_ surprised--almost, indeed, piqued! Carefully, however, as he managed matters, he was soon found out by _men_, and compelled to betake himself, with ten-fold ardor, to the women, with whom he lasted a little longer. _They_ considered him a great literary man; for he could quote and criticise a good deal of poetry, and abuse many novels. He could show that what everybody else admired was full of faults; what all condemned was admirable: so that the fair creatures were forced to distrust their own judgment, in proportion as they deferred to his. He would allow no one to be entitled to the praise of literary excellence except individuals of rank, and one or two men of established literary reputation, who had not thought it worth their while to repel his obsequious advances, or convenient not to do so. Then he would polish the poetry of fine ladies, touch up their little tales, and secure their insertion in fashionable periodicals. On these accounts, and of his piquant tittle-tattle, no soirée or conversazione was complete without him, any more than without tea, coffee, ice, or lemonade. All toadies hate one another; but his brethren both hated and feared Mr. Tuft; for he was not only so successful himself, but possessed and used such engines for _depressing them_. Mr. Tuft had hoped to succeed in being popped in by one of his patrons for a snug little borough; but the great man got tired of him, and turned him off, though the ladies of the family still secured him occasional access to the dinner-table. He did not, however, make a very grateful return for such good-natured condescensions. Ugly and ungainly as he was, he yet imagined himself possessed of personal attractions for the ladies, and converted their innocent and unsuspecting familiarities, which had emanated from those confident in their purity and their elevation, into tokens of the ascendency he had gained over them; and of which, with equal cruelty, folly, and presumption, he would afterwards boast pretty freely. Till this came, however, to be suspected and discovered, Mr. Tuft visited a good many leading houses in town, and spent no inconsiderable portion of each autumn at some one or other of the country mansions of his patrons--from whose
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and
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he took great pride in dating his letters to his friends. I must not forget to mention that he kept a book, very gorgeously bound and embellished, with silver-gilt clasps, and bearing on the back the words--
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Book of Autographs; but I should have written it--
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Trophies of Toadyism.
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The Duke of Walworth presents his compliments to Mr. Tuft, and feels particularly obliged by,
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The Duchess of Diamond hopes Mr. Tuft will not forget to bring with him this evening,
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The Marquis of M---- has the honor to assure Mr. Tuft that,
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Why were you not at ---- House last night? We were dreadfully dull without you! X ---- just as stupid as you always say he _is_.
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If Mr. Tuft is dead, Lady Dulcimer requests to be informed when his funeral will take place, as she, together with a host of mourners, intends to show him a last mark of respect.