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Chapter 11

MAKING A NIGHT OF IT

Damon and Pythias were undoubtedly very good fellows in their way:
the former for his extreme readiness to put in special bail for a
friend: and the latter for a certain trump-like punctuality in
turning up just in the very nick of time, scarcely less remarkable.
Many points in their character have, however, grown obsolete.
Damons are rather hard to find, in these days of imprisonment for
debt (except the sham ones, and they cost half-a-crown); and, as to
the Pythiases, the few that have existed in these degenerate times,
have had an unfortunate knack of making themselves scarce, at the
very moment when their appearance would have been strictly
classical. If the actions of these heroes, however, can find no
parallel in modern times, their friendship can. We have Damon and
Pythias on the one hand. We have Potter and Smithers on the other;
and, lest the two last-mentioned names should never have reached
the ears of our unenlightened readers, we can do no better than
make them acquainted with the owners thereof.

Mr. Thomas Potter, then, was a clerk in the city, and Mr. Robert
Smithers was a ditto in the same; their incomes were limited, but
their friendship was unbounded. They lived in the same street,
walked into town every morning at the same hour, dined at the same
slap-bang every day, and revelled in each other's company very
night. They were knit together by the closest ties of intimacy and
friendship, or, as Mr. Thomas Potter touchingly observed, they were
'thick-and-thin pals, and nothing but it.' There was a spice of
romance in Mr. Smithers's disposition, a ray of poetry, a gleam of
misery, a sort of consciousness of he didn't exactly know what,
coming across him he didn't precisely know why--which stood out in
fine relief against the off-hand, dashing, amateur-pickpocket-sort-
of-manner, which distinguished Mr. Potter in an eminent degree.

The peculiarity of their respective dispositions, extended itself
to their individual costume. Mr. Smithers generally appeared in
public in a surtout and shoes, with a narrow black neckerchief and
a brown hat, very much turned up at the sides--peculiarities which
Mr. Potter wholly eschewed, for it was his ambition to do something
in the celebrated 'kiddy' or stage-coach way, and he had even gone
so far as to invest capital in the purchase of a rough blue coat
with wooden buttons, made upon the fireman's principle, in which,
with the addition of a low-crowned, flower-pot-saucer-shaped hat,
he had created no inconsiderable sensation at the Albion in Little
Russell-street, and divers other places of public and fashionable
resort.

Mr. Potter and Mr. Smithers had mutually agreed that, on the
receipt of their quarter's salary, they would jointly and in
company 'spend the evening'--an evident misnomer--the spending
applying, as everybody knows, not to the evening itself but to all
the money the individual may chance to be possessed of, on the
occasion to which reference is made; and they had likewise agreed
that, on the evening aforesaid, they would 'make a night of it'--an
expressive term, implying the borrowing of several hours from to-
morrow morning, adding them to the night before, and manufacturing
a compound night of the whole.

The quarter-day arrived at last--we say at last, because quarter-
days are as eccentric as comets: moving wonderfully quick when you
have a good deal to pay, and marvellously slow when you have a
little to receive. Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers met
by appointment to begin the evening with a dinner; and a nice,
snug, comfortable dinner they had, consisting of a little
procession of four chops and four kidneys, following each other,
supported on either side by a pot of the real draught stout, and
attended by divers cushions of bread, and wedges of cheese.

When the cloth was removed, Mr. Thomas Potter ordered the waiter to
bring in, two goes of his best Scotch whiskey, with warm water and
sugar, and a couple of his 'very mildest' Havannahs, which the
waiter did. Mr. Thomas Potter mixed his grog, and lighted his
cigar; Mr. Robert Smithers did the same; and then, Mr. Thomas
Potter jocularly proposed as the first toast, 'the abolition of all
offices whatever' (not sinecures, but counting-houses), which was
immediately drunk by Mr. Robert Smithers, with enthusiastic
applause. So they went on, talking politics, puffing cigars, and
sipping whiskey-and-water, until the 'goes'--most appropriately so
called--were both gone, which Mr. Robert Smithers perceiving,
immediately ordered in two more goes of the best Scotch whiskey,
and two more of the very mildest Havannahs; and the goes kept
coming in, and the mild Havannahs kept going out, until, what with
the drinking, and lighting, and puffing, and the stale ashes on the
table, and the tallow-grease on the cigars, Mr. Robert Smithers
began to doubt the mildness of the Havannahs, and to feel very much
as if he had been sitting in a hackney-coach with his back to the
horses.

As to Mr. Thomas Potter, he WOULD keep laughing out loud, and
volunteering inarticulate declarations that he was 'all right;' in
proof of which, he feebly bespoke the evening paper after the next
gentleman, but finding it a matter of some difficulty to discover
any news in its columns, or to ascertain distinctly whether it had
any columns at all, walked slowly out to look for the moon, and,
after coming back quite pale with looking up at the sky so long,
and attempting to express mirth at Mr. Robert Smithers having
fallen asleep, by various galvanic chuckles, laid his head on his
arm, and went to sleep also. When he awoke again, Mr. Robert
Smithers awoke too, and they both very gravely agreed that it was
extremely unwise to eat so many pickled walnuts with the chops, as
it was a notorious fact that they always made people queer and
sleepy; indeed, if it had not been for the whiskey and cigars,
there was no knowing what harm they mightn't have done 'em. So
they took some coffee, and after paying the bill,--twelve and
twopence the dinner, and the odd tenpence for the waiter--thirteen
shillings in all--started out on their expedition to manufacture a
night.

It was just half-past eight, so they thought they couldn't do
better than go at half-price to the slips at the City Theatre,
which they did accordingly. Mr. Robert Smithers, who had become
extremely poetical after the settlement of the bill, enlivening the
walk by informing Mr. Thomas Potter in confidence that he felt an
inward presentiment of approaching dissolution, and subsequently
embellishing the theatre, by falling asleep with his head and both
arms gracefully drooping over the front of the boxes.

Such was the quiet demeanour of the unassuming Smithers, and such
were the happy effects of Scotch whiskey and Havannahs on that
interesting person! But Mr. Thomas Potter, whose great aim it was
to be considered as a 'knowing card,' a 'fast-goer,' and so forth,
conducted himself in a very different manner, and commenced going
very fast indeed--rather too fast at last, for the patience of the
audience to keep pace with him. On his first entry, he contented
himself by earnestly calling upon the gentlemen in the gallery to
'flare up,' accompanying the demand with another request,
expressive of his wish that they would instantaneously 'form a
union,' both which requisitions were responded to, in the manner
most in vogue on such occasions.

'Give that dog a bone!' cried one gentleman in his shirt-sleeves.

'Where have you been a having half a pint of intermediate beer?'
cried a second. 'Tailor!' screamed a third. 'Barber's clerk!'
shouted a fourth. 'Throw him O-VER!' roared a fifth; while
numerous voices concurred in desiring Mr. Thomas Potter to 'go home
to his mother!' All these taunts Mr. Thomas Potter received with
supreme contempt, cocking the low-crowned hat a little more on one
side, whenever any reference was made to his personal appearance,
and, standing up with his arms a-kimbo, expressing defiance
melodramatically.

The overture--to which these various sounds had been an ad libitum
accompaniment--concluded, the second piece began, and Mr. Thomas
Potter, emboldened by impunity, proceeded to behave in a most
unprecedented and outrageous manner. First of all, he imitated the
shake of the principal female singer; then, groaned at the blue
fire; then, affected to be frightened into convulsions of terror at
the appearance of the ghost; and, lastly, not only made a running
commentary, in an audible voice, upon the dialogue on the stage,
but actually awoke Mr. Robert Smithers, who, hearing his companion
making a noise, and having a very indistinct notion where he was,
or what was required of him, immediately, by way of imitating a
good example, set up the most unearthly, unremitting, and appalling
howling that ever audience heard. It was too much. 'Turn them
out!' was the general cry. A noise, as of shuffling of feet, and
men being knocked up with violence against wainscoting, was heard:
a hurried dialogue of 'Come out?'--'I won't!'--'You shall!'--'I
shan't!'--'Give me your card, Sir?'--'You're a scoundrel, Sir!' and
so forth, succeeded. A round of applause betokened the approbation
of the audience, and Mr. Robert Smithers and Mr. Thomas Potter
found themselves shot with astonishing swiftness into the road,
without having had the trouble of once putting foot to ground
during the whole progress of their rapid descent.

Mr. Robert Smithers, being constitutionally one of the slow-goers,
and having had quite enough of fast-going, in the course of his
recent expulsion, to last until the quarter-day then next ensuing
at the very least, had no sooner emerged with his companion from
the precincts of Milton-street, than he proceeded to indulge in
circuitous references to the beauties of sleep, mingled with
distant allusions to the propriety of returning to Islington, and
testing the influence of their patent Bramahs over the street-door
locks to which they respectively belonged. Mr. Thomas Potter,
however, was valorous and peremptory. They had come out to make a
night of it: and a night must be made. So Mr. Robert Smithers,
who was three parts dull, and the other dismal, despairingly
assented; and they went into a wine-vaults, to get materials for
assisting them in making a night; where they found a good many
young ladies, and various old gentlemen, and a plentiful sprinkling
of hackney-coachmen and cab-drivers, all drinking and talking
together; and Mr. Thomas Potter and Mr. Robert Smithers drank small
glasses of brandy, and large glasses of soda, until they began to
have a very confused idea, either of things in general, or of
anything in particular; and, when they had done treating themselves
they began to treat everybody else; and the rest of the
entertainment was a confused mixture of heads and heels, black eyes
and blue uniforms, mud and gas-lights, thick doors, and stone
paving.

Then, as standard novelists expressively inform us--'all was a
blank!' and in the morning the blank was filled up with the words
'STATION-HOUSE,' and the station-house was filled up with Mr.
Thomas Potter, Mr. Robert Smithers, and the major part of their
wine-vault companions of the preceding night, with a comparatively
small portion of clothing of any kind. And it was disclosed at the
Police-office, to the indignation of the Bench, and the
astonishment of the spectators, how one Robert Smithers, aided and
abetted by one Thomas Potter, had knocked down and beaten, in
divers streets, at different times, five men, four boys, and three
women; how the said Thomas Potter had feloniously obtained
possession of five door-knockers, two bell-handles, and a bonnet;
how Robert Smithers, his friend, had sworn, at least forty pounds'
worth of oaths, at the rate of five shillings apiece; terrified
whole streets full of Her Majesty's subjects with awful shrieks and
alarms of fire; destroyed the uniforms of five policemen; and
committed various other atrocities, too numerous to recapitulate.
And the magistrate, after an appropriate reprimand, fined Mr.
Thomas Potter and Mr. Thomas Smithers five shillings each, for
being, what the law vulgarly terms, drunk; and thirty-four pounds
for seventeen assaults at forty shillings a-head, with liberty to
speak to the prosecutors.

The prosecutors WERE spoken to, and Messrs. Potter and Smithers
lived on credit, for a quarter, as best they might; and, although
the prosecutors expressed their readiness to be assaulted twice a
week, on the same terms, they have never since been detected in
'making a night of it.'

Charles Dickens