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diff --git a/old/13457.txt b/old/13457.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..75bf583 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/13457.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13320 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bed-Book of Happiness, by Harold Begbie + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Bed-Book of Happiness + +Author: Harold Begbie + +Release Date: September 14, 2004 [EBook #13457] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BED-BOOK OF HAPPINESS *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Gene Smethers and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + +"A GATHERING OF HAPPINESS, A CONCENTRATION AND COMBINATION OF PLEASANT +DETAILS, A THRONG OF GLAD FACES, A MUSTER OF ELATED HEARTS." + +_CHARLOTTE BRONTE_ + + + + +THE BED-BOOK OF HAPPINESS + + +Being a Colligation or Assemblage of Cheerful Writings brought together +from many quarters into this one compass for the diversion, distraction, +and delight of those who lie abed,--a friend to the invalid, a companion +to the sleepless, an excuse to the tired, by + +HAROLD BEGBIE + + + +HODDER AND STOUGHTON LONDON NEW YORK TORONTO + + + + +PRINTED IN 1914 BY HAZELL, WATSON AND VINEY, LD., LONDON AND AYLESBURY. + + + + +_to_ + +_SIR JESSE BOOT_ + + _If, in my pages, those who suffer find + Such cheer as warms your heart and lights your mind, + Glad shall I be, but gladder, prouder too, + If this my book become a friend like you_. + + + + +_RONDEL_ + + _BESIDE YOUR BED I COME TO STAY + WITH MAGIC MORE THAN HUMAN SKILL, + MY PAGES RUN TO DO YOUR WILL, + MY COVERS KEEP YOUR CARES AWAY. + + THE NURSE ARRIVES WITH LADEN TRAY, + THE DOCTOR CANCELS DRAUGHT AND PILL; + BESIDE YOUR BED I COME TO STAY + WITH MAGIC MORE THAN HUMAN SKILL. + + AND YOU THRO' FAERY LANDS WILL STRAY, + AT LAUGHTER'S FOUNTAIN DRINK YOUR FILL, + FOR THO' YOUR BODY CRY "I'M ILL!" + YOUR MIND WILL DANCE FROM NIGHT TO DAY. + BESIDE YOUR BED I COME TO STAY + WITH MAGIC MORE THAN HUMAN SKILL_. + + + + +THE RENDERING OF THANKS + +To Mr. Austin Dobson and his publishers, Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench, +Truebner & Co., Ltd. + +To Mr. R.A. Streatfeild, Mr. Henry Festing Jones, and Mr. A.C. Fifield, +the publisher, for permission to make use of "The Note Books of Samuel +Butler." + +To Mr. W. Aldis Wright and Messrs. Macmillan for my quotations from "The +Letters of Edward FitzGerald." + +To Mr. E.I. Carlyle, author of "The Life of William Cobbett." + +To Sir Herbert Stephen and Messrs. Bowes & Bowes of Cambridge for +permission to include verses from the "Lapsus Calami" of J.K. Stephen. + +To Mrs. Hole, Mr. G.A.B. Dewar, and Messrs. George Allen & Co., for my +quotations from Mr. Dewar's "The Letters of Samuel Reynolds Hole." + +To Messrs. Chatto & Windus for my extracts from the Works of Mark Twain. + +To Sir Isaac Pitman & Sons for permission to make a quotation from "Mrs. +Brookfield and her Circle." + +To Messrs. Constable & Co. for my raid on the "Letters of T.E. Brown." + +To Messrs. George Bell & Son for the verses taken from C.S. Calverley's +"Fly Leaves." + +To Mr. E.V. Lucas, prince of anthologists, for the liberal use I have +made of his "Life of Charles Lamb." + +To Mr. G.K. Chesterton, and his publishers, Messrs. Methuen, Mr. +Duckworth, Mr. J.M. Dent, and Mr. John Lane. + +To Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. (_the owners of the copyright_) for +permission to include letters of Thackeray to Mrs. Brookfield. + +To Messrs. Gibbings & Co. for my extracts from the admirable translation +of Sainte-Beuve. + +And to all authors, living and dead, who have assembled in this place to +entertain the sick and the weary. + +H.B. + + + + +FOREWORD + +"It is worth," said Dr. Johnson, "a thousand pounds a year to have the +habit of looking on the bright side of things." + +It is worth more than all money to have the capacity, the power, the +will to see the bright side of things, to possess the assurance that +there is a veritable and persisting bright side of things, when the mind +is gloomed by physical weakness and the heart is conscious only of +languor and distress. At such a dull time even a long-established habit +may desert us; with our faculties clouded and obscured we are tempted to +doubt the entire philosophy of our former life; we sink down into the +sheets of discomfort, and roll our heads restlessly on the pillow of +discontent; we almost extract a morbid satisfaction from the fuliginous +surrenderings of pessimism. Mrs. Gummidge at our bedside might be as +unwelcome as Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, or Zophar the +Naamathite; but there is a Widow in the soul of all men as mournful and +lugubrious as the tearful sister of Mr. Peggotty, and in our weakness it +is often this dismal self-comforter we are disposed to summon to our +aid. "My soul is weary of my life," cried Job; "I will leave my +complaint upon myself; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul." + +Now, there is not a wise doctor in the world, nor any man who truly +knows himself, but will acknowledge and confess the enormous importance +to physical recovery of mental well-being. The thing has become +platitudinous, but remains as difficult as ever. If Christian Science on +its physiological side had been an easy matter it would long ago have +converted the world. The trouble is that obvious things are not always +easy. It is obvious to the victim of alcoholic or nicotine poisoning +that he would be infinitely better in health could he abjure alcohol or +tobacco; he does not need to be philosophised or theologised into this +conviction; he knows it better than his teachers. His necessity is a +superadded force to the will within his soul which has lost the power of +action. And so with the will of the sick person, who knows very well +that if he could rid himself of dejection and heaviness his health would +come back to him on swallows' wings. Obvious, palpable, more certain +than to-morrow's sun; but how difficult, how hard, nay, sometimes how +impossible! An honest man like Father Tyrrell confesses that in certain +bouts with the flesh faith may desert us, even the religious faith of a +life-time may fall in ruins round our naked soul. + +I was once speaking on this subject to Sir Jesse Boot, telling him how +hard I had found it to amuse and distract the mind of one of my children +in the extreme weakness which fell upon her after an operation. I told +him that I had searched my book-shelves for stories, histories, +anthologies, and journeyings; that I had carried to the bedside piles of +books which I thought the most suitable; and that I had read from these +books day after day, succeeding for some few minutes at a time to +interest the sick child, but ending almost in every case with failure +and defeat. I found that humour could bore, that narrative could +irritate, that essays could worry and perplex, that poetry could +depress, and that wit could tease with its cleverness. Moreover, I found +that one could not go straight to any anthology in existence without +coming unexpectedly, and before one was aware of it, upon some passage +so mournful or sad or pathetic that it undid at a sentence all the good +which had been done by luckier reading. My friend, who is himself a +great reader, and who has borne for some years a heavy burden of +infirmity, agreed that cheerful reading is of immense help in sickness +and also confessed that it is difficult to find any one book which +ministers to a mind weakened by illness or tortured by insomnia. + +The present volume is the outcome of that conversation. I determined to +compile a book which from the first page to the last should be a happy +book, a book which would come to be a friend of all those who share in +any way the sickness of the world, a book to which everybody could go +with the sure knowledge that they would find there nothing to depress, +nothing to exacerbate irritable nerves, nothing to confirm the mind in +dejection. And on its positive side I said that this book should be +diverse and changeful in its happiness. I planned that while +cheerfulness should be its soul, the expression of that cheerfulness +should avoid monotony with as great an energy as the book itself avoided +depression. My theory was a book whose pages should resemble rather an +_olla podrida_ of variety than a tautological joint of monotonous +nutriment. And I sought to fill my wallet rather from the crumbs let +fall by the happy feasters than from the too familiar table of the great +masters. + +"To muse, to dream, to conceive of fine works, is a delightful +occupation." But one must go from conception to execution, crossing the +gulf that separates "these two hemispheres of Art." "The man," says +Balzac, "who can but sketch his purpose beforehand in words is regarded +as a wonder, and every artist and writer possesses that faculty. But +gestation, fruition, the laborious rearing of the offspring, putting it +to bed every night full fed with milk, embracing it anew every morning +with the inexhaustible affection of a mother's heart, licking it clean, +dressing it a hundred times in the richest garb only to be instantly +destroyed; then never to be cast down at the convulsions of this +headlong life till the living masterpiece is perfected which in +sculpture speaks to every eye, in literature to every intellect, in +painting to every memory, in music to every heart!--this is the task of +execution." + +Even the compiler knows something of this passion of the artist, +experiences some at least of the convulsions of this headlong life, +makes acquaintance certainly with this task of execution. To conceive +such a volume as a Bed-Book of Happiness is one matter, to make it in +very fact a Bed-Book of Happiness is another and a much harder matter. +For, to begin with, one's judgment is not nearly so free and one's field +of selection not nearly so wide as the anthologist's whose book is for +all sorts and conditions of men, who may be as merry as he wishes on one +page, as solemn as he chooses on the next, and as pathetic or +sentimental as he likes on the page beyond. One has had to reject, for +instance, humour that is too boisterous or noisy, wit that is too +stinging and acrimonious, anecdotes that are touched with cruelty, +essays that, otherwise cheerful, deviate into the shadows of a too +sombre reflection. One has sought to compile a book of cheerfulness that +is kind and of happiness that is quiet and composed. One has had always +in mind the invalid just able to bear the effort of listening to a +melodious voice. To amuse, to distract, to divert, and above all to +charm--to bring a smile to the mind rather than laughter to the +lips--has been the guiding principle of this book, and the task has not +been easy. It is really extraordinary, to give but one instance of my +difficulties, how frequently the most amusing work of comic writers is +ruined by some chuckling jests about coffins, undertakers, or graves. If +any reader in full health miss from this throng of glad faces, this +muster of elated hearts, the most amusing and delightful of his familiar +friends, let him ask himself, before he pass judgment on the +anthologist, before he mistake a deliberate omission for a careless +forgetfulness, whether those good friends of his, amiable and welcome +enough at the dinner-table, are the companions he would choose for his +most wearisome hours or for the bedside of his sick child. And if in +these pages another should find that which neither amuses nor diverts +his mind, that which seems to him to miss the magic and to lack the +charm of happiness, let him pass on, with as much charity as he can +spare for the anthologist, remembering the proverb of Terence and +counting himself an infinitely happier man for this clear proof of his +superior judgment. + +I wished to include in this book, from the literature of other +countries, such gentle, whimsical humour as one finds in the letters of +FitzGerald or the Essays of Lamb. But, with all my searching I could +find nothing of that kind, and judges whom I can trust assure me that no +other literature has the exquisite note of happiness which sounds +through English letters so quietly, so cheerfully, and so contentedly. +Therefore my Bed-Book is almost entirely an English Bed-Book, for I +liked not the biting acid of Voltaire's epigrams any more than the +rollicking and disgustful coarseness of Boccaccio or Rabelais. It is an +interesting reflection, if it be true, that English literature is _par +excellence_ the literature of Happiness. + +"He who puts forth one depressing thought," says Lady Rachel Howard, +"aids Satan in his work of torment. He who puts forth one cheering +thought aids God in His work of beneficence." I have acted in the faith +that life is essentially good, that the universe presents to the natural +intuition of man a bright and glorious expression of Divine happiness, +that to be fruitful, as George Sand has it, life must be felt as a +blessing. One of the characters in a novel by Dostoeevsky says, "Men are +made for happiness, and any one who is completely happy has a right to +say to himself, 'I am doing God's will on earth.' All the righteous, all +the saints, all the holy martyrs were happy." + +Happiness, in its truest and only lasting sense, is the condition of a +soul at unity with itself and in harmony with existence. To bring the +sick and the sad and the unhappy at least some way on the road to this +blissful state, is the purpose of my book; and it leaves me on its +travel round the world with the wish that to whatever bedside of +sickness, suffering, and lethargy it may come, it may bring with it the +magic and contagious joy of those rare and gracious people whose +longed-for visits to an invalid are like draughts of rejoicing health. I +hope that my fine covers may soon be worn to the comfort of an old +garment, that my new pages may be quickly shabbied to the endearment of +a familiar face, and that the book will live at bedsides deepening and +sweetening the reader's affection for its faded leaves till it come to +seem an old, faithful, and never-failing friend, one who is never at +fault and never a deserter, and without whom life would lose one of its +fondest companionships. + + + + +CONTENTS + + ALLSTON, WASHINGTON: + The Lost Ornament 191 + + ANONYMOUS: + The Gentle Reader 14 + King David and the Gardener 198 + Sabbath Bells 275 + From the Greek Anthology 313 + Letter from an Indian Gentleman to an + English Friend 324 + A Babu Letter 327 + Mary Powell 341 + A Tur'ble Chap 374 + After Mr. Masefield 384 + Hits and Misses 443 + The Broken Window 443 + + BAGEHOT, WALTER: + Letters 212 + + BALMANNO, MRS.: + Charles and his Sister 193 + + BETHAM, M.M.: + Miss Pate 190 + + BOSWELL: + Dr. Johnson at Court 346 + + BROOKFIELD, W.H.: + Mr. Brookfield in his Youth 376 + + BROWN, T.E.: + Letters of T.E. Brown 85 + + BUTLER, SAMUEL: + Clergyman and Chickens 15 + Melchisedec 15 + Eating and Proselytising 15 + Sea-sickness 17 + Assimilation and Persecution 17 + Night-shirts and Babies 17 + Does Mamma Know? 18 + Croesus and his Kitchen-maid 19 + Adam and Eve 24 + Fire 24 + The Electric Light in its Infancy 25 + New-laid Eggs 25 + Snapshotting a Bishop 26 + + BYRON: + Apples 359 + + CALVERLEY, CHARLES: + Visions 99 + The Schoolmaster Abroad with his Son 174 + Motherhood 257 + "Forever" 337 + + CARLYLE: + Richter 1 + + CARROLL, LEWIS: + The Author of "Alice" 378 + + CHESTERTON, G.K.: + The Wisdom of G.K.C. 140 + + COBBETT, WILLIAM: + His Marriage 230 + Life at Botley 233 + His Children 237 + + DAUDET, ALPHONSE: + + Tartarin de Tarascon 176 + + DICKENS, CHARLES: + Shy Neighbourhoods 70 + The Calais Night-boat 200 + Mr. Testator 329 + + DOBSON, AUSTIN: + The Secrets of the Heart 34 + To "Lydia Languish" 137 + The Cap that Fits 240 + A Garden Idyll 286 + Love in Winter 353 + From the Ballad a-la-Mode 417 + + FITZGERALD, EDWARD: + Letters of Fitz 127 + + GASKELL, MRS.: + Cranford 291 + + GRONOW, CAPTAIN: + Sir John Waters 47 + Lord Westmoreland 51 + Colonel Kelly and his Blacking 52 + John Kemble 53 + Rogers and Luttrell 54 + The Pig-faced Lady 57 + Hoby, the Bootmaker, of St. James's Street 58 + Harrington House and Lord Petersham 60 + Lord Alvanley 61 + Sally Lunn 66 + "Monk" Lewis 67 + + HAYDON, B.R.: + Haydon's Immortal Night 181 + + H.B.: + Miss Stipp of Plover's Court 385 + Two Old Gentlemen 424 + + HAZLITT: + Persons one would wish to have seen 180 + Hobson's Choice 279 + Wit and Laughter 351 + + HOLE, DEAN: + "The Vulgar Tongue" 146 + The Happy Dean 249 + + HOOD: + The Carelesse Nurse Mayd 69 + "Please to Ring the Belle" 248 + Sally Simpkin's Lament; or John Jones's + Kit-cat-astrophe 307 + "Love, with a Witness!" 328 + Ode to Peace 404 + + INGOLDSBY: + Hints for an Historical Play; to be called + William Rufus; or, the Red Rover 122 + The Tragedy 214 + New-made Honour 312 + + J.B.: + Elia's Tail 192 + + JOHNSON, SAMUEL: + Music 402 + Neatness in Excess 402 + A Young Lady's "Needs" 403 + "Irene" 403 + + JONSON, BEN: + The Woodcraft of Jonson 253 + + KEATS: + To his Brother 186 + + LAMB, CHARLES: + "Sixpenny Jokes" 185 + Lamb's Task 186 + In a Coach 197 + + LANDOR, WALTER SAVAGE: + Landorisms 350 + + LEIGH, HENRY S.: + Where--and oh! Where? 33 + The Answer of Lady Clara Vere de Vere 252 + + LEWES, G.H.: + Goethe's Mother 28 + + MACAULAY, LORD: + "Boswell and Johnson" 102 + Macaulay's Wit 290 + + MERIVALE, CHARLES: + From the Greek Anthology 313 + + MONTAIGNE: + Odours and Moustaches 415 + + PERCY ANECDOTES: + The Great Conde 2 + A Classical Ass 3 + Memory 4 + "Come in Here" 4 + A Pope Innocent 5 + A Good Paraphrase 5 + Irish Priest 6 + A Digression 7 + Fortune-teller 7 + Gasconades 8 + Tribute to Beauty 8 + Begging Quarter 9 + Gascon Reproved 9 + Absent Man 11 + Pride 12 + Witty Coward 12 + Valuing Beauty 12 + Pro Aris et Focis 14 + + PRIOR, MATTHEW: + Epigrams 345 + + RELIGIO MEDICI: + The Happiness of Sir Thomas Browne 244 + + RICHTER: + Theisse 1 + Broken Studies 1 + + ROBINSON, CRABB: + Your Hat, Sir 191 + + SAINTE-BEUVE: + The Charming Frenchman: Bossuet, Rousseau, + Joubert, Mme D'Houdetot, Mme de + Remusat, Diderot, La Bruyere 269 + + SELDEN, JOHN: + Table-talk of John Selden 309 + + SMITH, ALEXANDER: + Dreamthorp 418 + + SMITH, SYDNEY: + A Little Moral Advice 360 + Mrs. Partington 363 + + STEPHEN, J.K.: + In a Visitor's Book 126 + A Sonnet 345 + + STERNE: + The Supper 118 + The Grace 120 + Uncle Toby and the Fly 277 + + STOW: + Old London Sports 314 + + THACKERAY: + Letters from Thackeray 406 + + THOMSON, MISS E.G.: + Lewis Carroll 380 + + THOREAU: + Open Air 339 + + TWAIN, MARK: + British Festivities 38 + Mark's Baby 139 + Enigma 243 + The Jumping Frog 259 + How Mark was Sold 310 + A Newspaper Paragraph 335 + Mental Photographs 354 + How Mark edited an Agricultural Paper 365 + + WALPOLE, HORACE: + Chatter of a Dilettante 221 + + WALTON, IZAAK: + Angling Cheer 356 + + WELLESLEY: + From the Greek Anthology (altered) 313 + + WIT ON OCCASION 444 + + + + + +THE BED-BOOK OF HAPPINESS + + +THEISSE +[Sidenote: _Richter_] + +In his seventy-second year his face is a thanksgiving for his former +life, and a love-letter to all mankind. + + +RICHTER +[Sidenote: _Carlyle_] + +We have heard that he was a man universally loved, as well as honoured +... a friendly, true, and high-minded man; copious in speech, which was +full of grave, genuine humour; contented with simple people and simple +pleasures; and himself of the simplest habits and wishes. + + +BROKEN STUDIES +[Sidenote: _Richter_] + +I deny myself my evening meal in my eagerness to work; but the +interruptions by my children I cannot deny myself. + + +THE GREAT CONDE +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +The Great Conde passing through the city of Sens, which belonged to +Burgundy, and of which he was the governor, took great pleasure in +disconcerting the different companies who came to compliment him. The +Abbe Boileau, brother of the poet, was commissioned to make a speech to +the Prince at the head of the chapter. Conde wishing to disconcert the +orator, advanced his head and large nose towards the Abbe, as if with +the intention of hearing him more distinctly, but in reality to make him +blunder if possible. The Abbe, who perceived his design, pretended to be +greatly embarrassed, and thus began his speech: "My lord, your highness +ought not to be surprised to see me tremble, when I appear before you at +the head of a company of ecclesiastics; were I at the head of an army of +thirty thousand men, I should tremble much more." The Prince was so +charmed with this sally that he embraced the orator without suffering +him to proceed. He asked his name; and when he found that he was brother +to M. Despreaux, he redoubled his attentions, and invited him to dinner. + +The Prince on another occasion thought himself offended by the Abbe de +Voisenon; Voisenon, hearing of this, went to Court to exculpate himself. +As soon as the Prince saw him he turned away from him. "Thank God!" said +Voisenon, "I have been misinformed, sir; your highness does not treat me +as if I were an enemy." "How do you see that, M. Abbe?" said his +highness coldly over his shoulder. "Because, sir," answered the Abbe, +"your highness never turns your back upon an enemy." "My dear Abbe," +exclaimed the Prince and Field-Marshal, turning round and taking him by +the hand, "it is quite impossible for any man to be angry with you." + + +A CLASSICAL ASS +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +The ass, though the dullest of all unlaughing animals, is reported to +have once accomplished a great feat in the way of exciting laughter. +Marcus Crassus, the grandfather of the hero of that name, who fell in +the Parthian War, was a person of such immovable gravity of countenance +that, in the whole course of his life, he was never known to laugh but +once, and hence was surnamed Agelastus. Not all that the wittiest men of +his time could say, nor aught that comedy or farce could produce on the +stage, was ever known to call up more than a smile on his iron-bound +countenance. Happening one day, however, to stray into the fields, he +espied an ass browsing on thistles; and in this there appears to have +been something so eminently ridiculous in those days that the man who +never laughed before could not help laughing at it outright. It was but +the burst of a moment; Agelastus immediately recovered himself, and +never laughed again. + + +MEMORY +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A player being reproached by Rich for having forgot some of the words in +"The Beggar's Opera," on the fifty-third night of its performance, cried +out, "What! do you think one can remember a thing for ever?" + + +"COME IN HERE" +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +Burton, in his "Melancholy," quoting from Poggius, the Florentine, tells +us of a physician in Milan who kept a house for the reception of +lunatics, and, by way of cure, used to make his patients stand for a +length of time in a pit of water, some up to the knees, some to the +girdle, and others as high as the chin, _pro modo insaniae_, according as +they were more or less affected. An inmate of this establishment, who +happened, "by chance," to be pretty well recovered, was standing at the +door of the house, and, seeing a gallant cavalier ride past with a hawk +on his fist, and his spaniels after him, he must needs ask what all +these preparations meant. The cavalier answered, "To kill game." "What +may the game be worth which you kill in the course of a year?" rejoined +the patient. "About five or ten crowns." "And what may your horse, dogs, +and hawks stand you in?" "Four hundred crowns more." On hearing this, +the patient with great earnestness of manner, bade the cavalier +instantly begone, as he valued his life and welfare; "For," said he, "if +our master come and find you here, he will put you into his pit up to +the very chin." + + +A POPE INNOCENT +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +When King James I. visited Sir Thomas Pope, knt., in Oxfordshire, his +lady had lately brought him a daughter, and the babe was presented to +the King with a paper of verses in her hand; "Which," quoth Fuller, "as +they pleased the King, I hope they will please the reader." + + See, this little mistress here, + Did never sit in Peter's chair, + Or a triple crown did wear, + And yet she is a Pope. + + No benefice she ever sold, + Nor did dispense with sins for gold, + She hardly is a se'nnight old, + And yet she is a Pope. + + No king her feet did ever kiss, + Or had from her worse look than this; + Nor did she ever hope + To saint one with a rope, + And yet she is a Pope. + + A female Pope you'll say, a second Joan! + No, sure she is Pope _Innocent_, or none! + + +A GOOD PARAPHRASE +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +On the eve of a battle an officer came to ask permission of the Marechal +de Toiras to go and see his father, who was on his death-bed. "Go," said +the general, "you honour your father and your mother, that your days may +be long in the land." + + +IRISH PRIEST +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +An Irish peasant complained to the Catholic priest of his parish that +some person had stolen his best pig, and supplicated his reverence to +help him to the discovery of the thief. The priest promised his best +endeavours; and, his inquiries soon leading him to a correct enough +guess as to the offender, he took the following amusing method of +bringing the matter home to him. Next Sunday, after the service of the +day, he called out with a loud voice, fixing his eyes on the suspected +individual, "Who stole Pat Doolan's pig?" There was a long pause, and no +answer; he did not expect that there would be any; and descended from +the pulpit without saying a word more. A second Sunday arriving without +the pig being restored in the interval, his reverence, again looking +steadfastly at the stubborn purloiner and throwing a deep note of anger +into the tone of his voice, repeated the question. "Who stole Pat +Doolan's pig? I say, who stole _poor_ Pat Doolan's pig?" Still there was +no answer, and the question was left as before, to work its effect in +secret on the conscience of the guilty individual. The hardihood of the +offender, however, exceeded all the honest priest's calculations. A +third Sunday arrived, and Pat Doolan was still without his pig. Some +stronger measure now became necessary. After service was performed his +reverence, dropping the question of "Who stole Pat Doolan's pig?" but +still without directly accusing any one of the theft, reproachfully +exclaimed, "Jimmie Doran! Jimmie Doran! you trate me with contimpt." +Jimmie Doran hung down his head, and next morning the pig was found at +the door of Pat Doolan's cabin. + + +A DIGRESSION +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +The celebrated Henderson, the actor, was seldom known to be in a +passion. When at Oxford, he was one day debating with a fellow student, +who, not keeping his temper, threw a glass of wine in his face. Mr. +Henderson took out his handkerchief, wiped his face, and coolly said, +"That, sir, was a digression; now for the argument." + + +FORTUNE-TELLER +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A fortune-teller was arrested at his theatre of divination, _al fresco_, +at the corner of the rue de Bussy in Paris, and carried before the +tribunal of correctional police. "You know to read the future?" said the +president, a man of great wit, but too fond of a joke for a magistrate. +"In this case," said the judge, "you know the judgment we intend to +pronounce." "Certainly." "Well, what will happen to you?" "Nothing." +"You are sure of it?" "You will acquit me." "Acquit you!" "There is no +doubt of it." "Why?" "Because, sir, if it had been your intention to +condemn me, you would not have added irony to misfortune." The +president, disconcerted, turned to his brother judges, and the sorcerer +was acquitted. + + +GASCONADES +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A Gascon, passing one night through a churchyard, thought he saw a +spectre drawing forth his sword. He called out aloud, "Aha! do you want +to be killed a second time? I am your man." + +Another hero of the same country used to say that he could not look into +a mirror without being afraid of himself. + +When Robespierre had been guillotined at Paris, a Gascon officer in the +French army thus expressed the dread he had entertained of that tyrant: +"As often as the name of Robespierre was mentioned to me, I used to take +off my hat, in order to see if my head was in it." + + +TRIBUTE TO BEAUTY +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +As the late beautiful Duchess of Devonshire was one day stepping out of +her carriage, a dustman, who was accidentally standing by, and was about +to regale himself with his accustomed whiff of tobacco, caught a glance +of her countenance, and instantly exclaimed, "Love and bless you, my +lady, let me light my pipe in your eyes!" It is said the duchess was so +delighted with this compliment that she frequently afterwards checked +the strain of adulation, which was so constantly offered to her charms, +by saying, "Oh! after the dustman's compliment, all others are insipid." + + +BEGGING QUARTER +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A French regiment at the battle of Spires had orders to give no quarter. +A German officer, being taken, begged his life. The Frenchman replied, +"Sir, you may ask me for any other favour; but, as for your life, it is +impossible for me to grant it." + + +GASCON REPROVED +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A descendant of a family in Gascony, celebrated for its flow of language +and love of talking, and not for any deeds of glory, descanted before a +numerous company upon the well-known bravery of his ancestors and +relations. He then, to show that the race had not degenerated, +_modestly_ launched into a _faithful_ description of his own battles, +duels, and successes. He was once, he said, a passenger on board a +French frigate during the war, and, falling in with an English squadron +composed of three seventy-fours, fought with them for five hours, when +luckily, the ship taking fire, he was blown up, with ten of his +countrymen, and dropped into one of the seventy-fours, the crew of which +laid down their arms and surrendered; while the two remaining +men-of-war, struck with dismay at the sight of one of their ships in the +possession of the enemy, crowded sails and ran away! + +Such were his _faithful_ accounts, with which he would still have +continued to annoy the company, had not one of his countrymen, more +enlightened, frankly acknowledged the natural propensity which leads the +inhabitants of Gascony to revel in imaginary scenes, resolved to awe him +into silence, and thus addressed him: "All your exploits are mere +commonplace, in comparison to those which I have achieved; and I will +relate a single one that surpasses all yours." + +The babbler opened his ears, no doubt secretly intending to appropriate +this story to himself in future time, when none of the hearers should be +present, and modestly owned, that all those he had mentioned were mere +children's tricks, performed without any exertion, but that he had some +in store which might shine unobscured by the side of the most brilliant +deeds of ancient ages. + +"One evening," said the other, "as I was returning to town from the +country, I had to pass through a narrow lane, well known for being +infested with highwaymen. My horse was in good order, my pistols loaded, +and my broadsword hung at my side; I entered the lane without any +apprehension. Scarcely had I reached the middle when a loud shout behind +me made me turn my head, and I saw a man with a short gun running fast +towards me. I was going to face him with my horse, when two men with +large cudgels in their hands, rushing from the hedge, seized the reins, +and threatened me with instant death. Undaunted, I took my two pistols; +but, before I had time to fire, one was knocked out of my hand, the +other went off, and one of the robbers fell. I then drew my sword, and, +though bruised by the blows I had received, struck with all my might, +and split the head of the other in two. Freed from my danger on their +side, I attempted a second time to turn my horse." Here he paused a +while; and our babbler, longing to know the end of this adventure, +exclaimed, "And the third!" "Oh, the third!" answered the other; "he +shot me dead." + + +ABSENT MAN +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A celebrated living poet, occasionally a little absent in mind, was +invited by a friend, whom he met in the street, to dine with him the +next Sunday at a country lodging, which he had taken for the summer +months. The address was, "near the _Green Man_ at _Dulwich_"; which, not +to put his inviter to the trouble of pencilling down, the _absent_ man +promised faithfully to remember. But when Sunday came, he, fully late +enough, made his way to Greenwich, and began inquiring for the sign of +the _Dull Man_! No such sign was to be found; and, after losing an hour, +a person guessed that though there was no _Dull Man_ at Greenwich, there +was a _Green Man_ at Dulwich, which the _absent_ man might _possibly_ +mean! This remark connected the broken chain, and the poet was under the +necessity of taking his chop by himself. + + +PRIDE +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A Spaniard rising from a fall, whereby his nose had suffered +considerably, exclaimed, "Voto, a tal, esto es caminar por la turru!" +(This comes of walking upon earth!) + + +WITTY COWARD +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +A French marquis having received several blows with a stick, which he +never thought of resenting, a friend asked him, "How he could reconcile +it with his honour to suffer them to pass without notice?" "Poh!" +replied the marquis, "I never trouble my head with anything that passes +behind my back." + + +VALUING BEAUTY +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +The Persian Ambassador, Mirza Aboul Hassan, while he resided in Paris +was an object of so much curiosity that he could not go out without +being surrounded by a multitude of gazers, and the ladies even ventured +so far as to penetrate his hotel. + +On returning one day from a ride, he found his apartments crowded with +ladies, all elegantly dressed, but not all equally beautiful. Astonished +at this unexpected assemblage, he inquired what these European +odalisques could possibly want with him. The interpreter replied that +they had come to look at his Excellency. The Ambassador was surprised to +find himself an object of curiosity among a people who boast of having +attained the acme of civilisation; and was not a little offended at +conduct which, in Asia, would have been considered an unwarrantable +breach of good-breeding; he accordingly revenged himself by the +following little scheme. + +The illustrious foreigner affected to be charmed with the ladies; he +looked at them attentively alternately, pointing to them with his +finger, and speaking with great earnestness to his interpreter, who, he +was well aware, would be questioned by his fair visitants; and whom he +therefore instructed in the part he was to act. Accordingly, the eldest +of the ladies, who, in spite of her age, probably thought herself the +prettiest of the whole party, and whose curiosity was particularly +excited, after his Excellency had passed through the suite of rooms, +coolly inquired what had been the object of his examination? "Madam," +replied the interpreter, "I dare not inform you." "But I wish +particularly to know, sir." "Indeed, madam, it is impossible!" "Nay, +sir, this reserve is vexatious; I desire to know." "Oh! since you +desire, madam, know then that his Excellency has been valuing you!" +"Valuing us! how, sir?" "Yes, ladies, his Excellency, after the custom +of his country, has been setting a price upon each of you!" "Well, +that's whimsical enough; and how much may that lady be worth, according +to his estimation?" "A thousand crowns." "And the other?" "Five hundred +crowns." "And that young lady with fair hair?" "The same price." "And +that lady who is painted?" "Fifty crowns." "And pray, sir, what may I be +worth in the tariff of his Excellency's good graces?" "Oh, madam, you +really must excuse me, I beg." "Come, come, no concealments." "The +Prince merely said as he passed you--" "Well, what did he say?" inquired +the lady with great eagerness. "He said, madam, that he did not know the +small coin of this country." + + +PRO ARIS ET FOCIS +[Sidenote: _Percy Anecdotes_] + +At the establishment of volunteer corps, a certain corporation agreed to +form a body, on condition that they should _not be obliged to quit the +country_. The proposal was submitted to Mr. Pitt; who said he had no +objection to the terms, if they would permit him to add, "_except_, in +case of _invasion_." + + +THE GENTLE READER +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + No British Museum the fisherman needs: + He simply goes down to the river and reeds. + + +CLERGYMEN AND CHICKENS +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +Why, let me ask, should a hen lay an egg, which egg can become a chicken +in about three weeks and a full-grown hen in less than a twelvemonth, +while a clergyman and his wife lay no eggs, but give birth to a baby +which will take three-and-twenty years before it can become another +clergyman? Why should not chickens be born and clergymen be laid and +hatched? Or why, at any rate, should not the clergyman be born +full-grown and in Holy Orders, not to say already beneficed? + + +MELCHISEDEC +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +He was a really happy man. He was without father, without mother, and +without descent. He was an incarnate bachelor. He was a born orphan. + + +EATING AND PROSELYTISING +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +All eating is a kind of proselytising--a kind of dogmatising--a +maintaining that the eater's way of looking at things is better than the +eatee's. We convert the food, or try to do so, to our own way of +thinking, and, when it sticks to its own opinion and refuses to be +converted, we say it disagrees with us. An animal that refuses to let +another eat it has the courage of its convictions, and, if it gets +eaten, dies a martyr to them.... + +It is good for the man that he should not be thwarted--that he should +have his own way as far, and with as little difficulty, as possible. +Cooking is good because it makes matters easier by unsettling the meat's +mind and preparing it for new ideas. All food must first be prepared for +us by animals and plants, or we cannot assimilate it; and so thoughts +are more easily assimilated that have been already digested by other +minds. A man should avoid converse with things that have been stunted or +starved, and should not eat such meat as has been overdriven or underfed +or afflicted with disease, nor should he touch fruit or vegetables that +have not been well grown. + +Sitting quiet after eating is akin to sitting still during divine +service so as not to disturb the congregation. We are catechising and +converting our proselytes, and there should be no row. As we get older +we must digest more quietly still; our appetite is less, our gastric +juices are no longer so eloquent, they have lost that cogent fluency +which carried away all that came in contact with it. They have become +sluggish and unconciliatory. This is what happens to any man when he +suffers from an attack of indigestion. + +Or, indeed, any other sickness, is the inarticulate expression of the +pain we feel on seeing a proselyte escape us just as we were on the +point of converting it. + + +ASSIMILATION AND PERSECUTION +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +We cannot get rid of persecution; if we feel at all we must persecute +something; the mere acts of feeding and growing are acts of persecution. +Our aim should be to persecute nothing but such things as are absolutely +incapable of resisting us. Man is the only animal that can remain on +friendly terms with the victims he intends to eat until he eats them. + + +NIGHT-SHIRTS AND BABIES +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +On Hindhead, last Easter, we saw a family wash hung out to dry. There +were papa's two great night-shirts and mamma's two lesser night-gowns, +and then the children's smaller articles of clothing and mamma's drawers +and the girls' drawers, all full swollen with a strong north-east wind. +But mamma's night-gown was not so well pinned on, and, instead of being +full of steady wind like the others, kept blowing up and down as though +she were preaching wildly. We stood and laughed for ten minutes. The +housewife came to the window and wondered at us, but we could not +resist the pleasure of watching the absurdly life-like gestures which +the night-gowns made. I should like a _Santa Famiglia_ with clothes +drying in the background. + +A love-story might be told in a series of sketches of the clothes of two +families hanging out to dry in adjacent gardens. Then a gentleman's +night-shirt from one garden and a lady's night-gown from the other +should be shown hanging in a third garden by themselves. By and by there +should be added a little night-shirt. + +A philosopher might be tempted, on seeing the little night-shirt, to +suppose that the big night-shirts had made it. What we do is much the +same, for the body of a baby is not much more made by the two old +babies, after whose pattern it has cut itself out, than the little +night-shirt is made by the big ones. The thing that makes either the +little night-shirt or the little baby is something about which we know +nothing whatever at all. + + +DOES MAMMA KNOW? +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +A father was telling his eldest daughter, aged about six, that she had a +little sister, and was explaining to her how nice it all was. The child +said it was delightful, and added: + +"Does mamma know? Let's go and tell her." + + +CROESUS AND HIS KITCHEN-MAID +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +I want people to see either their cells as less parts of themselves than +they do, or their servants as more. + +Croesus's kitchen-maid is part of him, bone of his bone and flesh of his +flesh, for she eats what comes from his table, and, being fed of one +flesh, are they not brother and sister to one another in virtue of +community of nutriment, which is but a thinly veiled travesty of +descent? When she eats peas with her knife, he does so too; there is not +a bit of bread and butter she puts into her mouth, nor a lump of sugar +she drops into her tea, but he knoweth it altogether, though he knows +nothing whatever about it. She is en-Croesused and he en-scullery-maided +so long as she remains linked to him by the golden chain which passes +from his pocket to hers, and which is greatest of all unifiers. + +True, neither party is aware of the connection at all as long as things +go smoothly. Croesus no more knows the name of, or feels the existence +of, his kitchen-maid than a peasant in health knows about his liver; +nevertheless, he is awakened to a dim sense of an undefined something +when he pays his grocer or his baker. She is more definitely aware of +him than he of her, but it is by way of an overshadowing presence rather +than a clear and intelligent comprehension. And though Croesus does not +eat his kitchen-maid's meals otherwise than vicariously, still to eat +vicariously is to eat: the meals so eaten by his kitchen-maid nourish +the better ordering of the dinner which nourishes and engenders the +better ordering of Croesus himself. He is fed, therefore, by the feeding +of his kitchen-maid. + +And so with sleep. When she goes to bed he, in part, does so too. When +she gets up and lays the fire in the back kitchen he, in part, does so. +He lays it through her and in her, though knowing no more what he is +doing than we know when we digest, but still doing it as by what we call +a reflex action. _Qui facit per alium facit per se_, and when the +back-kitchen fire is lighted on Croesus's behalf it is Croesus who +lights it, though he is all the time fast asleep in bed. + +Sometimes things do not go smoothly. Suppose the kitchen-maid to be +taken with fits just before dinner-time; there will be a reverberating +echo of disturbance throughout the whole organisation of the palace. But +the oftener she has fits, the more easily will the household know what +it is all about when she is taken with them. On the first occasion Lady +Croesus will send some one rushing down into the kitchen; there will, in +fact, be a general flow of blood (i.e. household) to the part affected +(that is to say, to the scullery-maid); the doctor will be sent for and +all the rest of it. On each repetition of the fits the neighbouring +organs, reverting to a more primary undifferentiated condition, will +discharge duties for which they were not engaged, in a manner for which +no one would have given them credit; and the disturbance will be less +and less each time, till by and by, at the sound of the crockery +smashing below, Lady Croesus will just look up to papa and say: + +"My dear, I am afraid Sarah has got another fit." + +And papa will say she will probably be better again soon, and will go on +reading his newspaper. + +In course of time the whole thing will come to be managed automatically +downstairs without any references either to papa, the cerebrum, or to +mamma, the cerebellum, or even to the _medulla oblongata_, the +housekeeper. A precedent or routine will be established, after which +everything will work quite smoothly. + +But though papa and mamma are unconscious of the reflex action which has +been going on within their organisation, the kitchen-maid and the cells +in her immediate vicinity (that is to say, her fellow-servants) will +know all about it. Perhaps the neighbours will think that nobody in the +house knows, and that, because the master and mistress show no sign of +disturbance, therefore there is no consciousness. They forget that the +scullery-maid becomes more and more conscious of the fits if they grow +upon her, as they probably will, and that Croesus and his lady do show +more signs of consciousness, if they are watched closely, than can be +detected on first inspection. There is not the same violent +perturbation that there was on the previous occasions, but the tone of +the palace is lowered. A dinner-party has to be put off; the cooking is +more homogeneous and uncertain, it is less highly differentiated than +when the scullery-maid was well; and there is a grumble when the doctor +has to be paid, and also when the smashed crockery has to be replaced. + +If Croesus discharges his kitchen-maid and gets another, it is as though +he cut out a small piece of his finger and replaced it in due course by +growth. But even the slightest cut may lead to blood-poisoning, and so +even the dismissal of a kitchen-maid may be big with the fate of +empires. Thus the cook--a valued servant--may take the kitchen-maid's +part and go too. The next cook may spoil the dinner and upset Croesus's +temper, and from this all manner of consequences may be evolved, even to +the dethronement and death of the King himself. Nevertheless, as a +general rule, an injury to such a low part of a great monarch's organism +as a kitchen-maid has no important results. It is only when we are +attacked in such vital organs as the solicitor or the banker that we +need be uneasy. A wound in the solicitor is a very serious thing, and +many a man has died from failure of his bank's action. + +It is certain, as we have seen, that when the kitchen-maid lights the +fire it is really Croesus who is lighting it, but it is less obvious +that when Croesus goes to a ball the scullery-maid goes also. Still, +this should be held in the same way as it should be also held that she +eats vicariously when Croesus dines. For he must return from the ball +and the dinner-parties, and this comes out in his requiring to keep a +large establishment whereby the scullery-maid retains her place as part +of his organism and is nourished and amused also. + +On the other hand, when Croesus dies it does not follow that the +scullery-maid should die at the same time. She may grow a new Croesus, +as Croesus, if the maid dies, will probably grow a new kitchen-maid; +Croesus's son or successor may take over the kingdom and palace, and the +kitchen-maid, beyond having to wash up a few extra plates and dishes at +coronation time, will know little about the change. It is as though the +establishment had had its hair cut and its beard trimmed; it is +smartened up a little, but there is no other change. If, on the other +hand, he goes bankrupt, or his kingdom is taken from him and his whole +establishment is broken and dissipated at the auction-mart, then, even +though not one of its component cells actually dies, the organism as a +whole does so, and it is interesting to see that the lowest, least +specialised, and least highly differentiated parts of the organism, such +as the scullery-maid and the stable-boys, most readily find an entry +into the life of some new system, while the more specialised and highly +differentiated parts, such as the steward, the old housekeeper, and, +still more so, the librarian or the chaplain, may never be able to +attach themselves to any new combination, and may die in consequence. I +heard once of a large builder who retired unexpectedly from business and +broke up his establishment, to the actual death of several of his older +employes. + +So a bit of flesh, or even a finger, may be taken from one body and +grafted on to another, but a leg cannot be grafted; if a leg is cut off +it must die. It may, however, be maintained that the owner dies, too, +even though he recovers, for a man who has lost a leg is not the man he +was. + + +ADAM AND EVE +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +A little boy and a little girl were looking at a picture of Adam and +Eve. + +"Which is Adam and which is Eve?" said one. + +"I do not know," said the other, "but I could tell if they had their +clothes on." + + +FIRE +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +I was at one the other night, and heard a man say: "That corner stack is +alight now quite nicely." People's sympathies seem generally to be with +the fire so long as no one is in danger of being burned. + + +THE ELECTRIC LIGHT IN ITS INFANCY +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +I heard a woman in a 'bus boring her lover about the electric light. She +wanted to know this and that, and the poor lover was helpless. Then she +said she wanted to know how it was regulated. At last she settled down +by saying that she knew it was in its infancy. The word "infancy" seemed +to have a soothing effect upon her, for she said no more, but, leaning +her head against her lover's shoulder, composed herself to slumber. + + +NEW-LAID EGGS +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +When I take my Sunday walks in the country, I try to buy a few really +new-laid eggs warm from the nest. At this time of the year (January) +they are very hard to come by, and I have long since invented a sick +wife who has implored me to get a few eggs laid not earlier than the +self-same morning. Of late, as I am getting older, it has become my +daughter, who has just had a little baby. This will generally draw a +new-laid egg, if there is one about the place at all. + +At Harrow Weald it has always been my wife who for years has been a +great sufferer and finds a really new-laid egg the one thing she can +digest in the way of solid food. So I turned her on as movingly as I +could not long since, and was at last sold some eggs that were no +better than common shop-eggs, if so good. Next time I went I said my +poor wife had been made seriously ill by them; it was no good trying to +deceive her; she could tell a new-laid egg from a bad one as well as any +woman in London, and she had such a high temper that it was very +unpleasant for me when she found herself disappointed. + +"Ah! sir," said the landlady, "but you would not like to lose her." + +"Ma'am," I replied, "I must not allow my thoughts to wander in that +direction. But it's no use bringing her stale eggs, anyhow." + + +SNAPSHOTTING A BISHOP +[Sidenote: _Samuel Butler_] + +I must some day write about how I hunted the late Bishop of Carlisle +with my camera, hoping to shoot him when he was sea-sick crossing from +Calais to Dover, and how St. Somebody protected him and said I might +shoot him when he was well, but not when he was sea-sick. I should like +to do it in the manner of the "Odyssey": + +... And the steward went round and laid them all on the sofas and +benches, and he set a beautiful basin by each, variegated and adorned +with flowers; but it contained no water for washing the hands, and +Neptune sent great waves that washed over the eyelet-holes of the cabin. +But when it was now the middle of the passage and a great roaring arose +as of beasts in the Zoological Gardens, and they promised hecatombs to +Neptune if he would still the raging of the waves.... + +At any rate I shot him and have him in my snap-shot book; but he was not +sea-sick. + +_From the Note-Books of Samuel Butler._ + + +GOETHE'S MOTHER +[Sidenote: _G.H. Lewes_] + +That he was the loveliest baby ever seen, exciting admiration wherever +nurse or mother carried him, and exhibiting, in swaddling clothes, the +most wonderful intelligence, we need no biographer to tell us. Is it not +said of every baby? But that he was in truth a wonderful child we have +undeniable evidence, and of a kind less questionable than the statement +of mothers and relatives. At three years old he could seldom be brought +to play with little children, and only on the condition of their being +pretty. One day, in a neighbour's house, he suddenly began to cry and +exclaim, "That black child must go away! I can't bear him!" And he +howled till he was carried home, where he was slowly pacified; the whole +cause of his grief being the ugliness of the child. + +A quick, merry little girl grew up by the boy's side. Four other +children also came, but soon vanished. Cornelia was the only companion +who survived, and for her his affection dated from the cradle. He +brought his toys to her, wanted to feed her and attend on her, and was +very jealous of all who approached her. "When she was taken from the +cradle, over which he watched, his anger was scarcely to be quieted. He +was altogether much more easily moved to anger than to tears." To the +last his love for Cornelia was passionate. + +In old German towns, Frankfurt among them, the ground-floor consists of +a great hall where the vehicles were housed. This floor opens in folding +trap-doors, for the passage of wine-casks into the cellars below. In one +corner of the hall there is a sort of lattice, opening by an iron or +wooden grating upon the street. This is called the Geraems. Here the +crockery in daily use was kept; here the servants peel their potatoes, +and cut their carrots and turnips, preparatory to cooking; here also the +housewife would sit with her sewing, or her knitting, giving an eye to +what passed in the street (when anything did pass there) and an ear to a +little neighbourly gossip. Such a place was, of course, a favourite with +the children. + +One fine afternoon, when the house was quiet, Master Wolfgang, with his +cup in his hand, and nothing to do, finds himself in this Geraems, +looking out into the silent street, and telegraphing to the young +Ochsensteins who dwelt opposite. By way of doing something, he begins to +fling the crockery into the street, delighted at the smashing music +which it makes, and stimulated by the approbation of the brothers +Ochsenstein, who chuckle at him from over the way. The plates and dishes +are flying in this way, when his mother returns: she sees the mischief +with a housewifely horror, melting into girlish sympathy, as she hears +how heartily the little fellow laughs at his escapade, and how the +neighbours laugh at him. + +This genial, indulgent mother employed her faculty for story-telling to +his and her own delight. "Air, fire, earth, and water I represented +under the forms of princesses; and to all natural phenomena I gave a +meaning, in which I almost believed more fervently than my little +hearers. As we thought of paths which led from star to star, and that we +should one day inhabit the stars, and thought of the great spirits we +should meet there, I was as eager for the hours of story-telling as the +children themselves; I was quite curious about the future course of my +own improvisation, and any invitation which interrupted these evenings +was disagreeable. There I sat, and there Wolfgang held me with his large +black eyes; and when the fate of one of his favourites was not according +to his fancy, I saw the angry veins swell on his temples, I saw him +repress his tears. He often burst in with 'But, mother, the princess +won't marry the nasty tailor, even if he does kill the giant.' And when +I made a pause for the night, promising to continue it on the morrow, I +was certain that he would in the meanwhile think it out for himself, and +so he often stimulated my imagination. When I turned the story according +to his plan, and told him that he had found out the _denouement_, then +was he all fire and flame, and one could see his little heart beating +underneath his dress! His grandmother, who made a great pet of him, was +the confidante of all his ideas as to how the story would turn out, and +as she repeated these to me, and I turned the story according to these +hints, there was a little diplomatic secrecy between us, which we never +disclosed. I had the pleasure of continuing my story to the delight and +astonishment of my hearers, and Wolfgang saw, with glowing eyes, the +fulfilment of his own conceptions, and listened with enthusiastic +applause." What a charming glimpse of mother and son! + +She is one of the pleasantest figures in German literature, and one +standing out with greater vividness than almost any other. Her simple, +hearty, joyous, and affectionate nature endeared her to all. She was the +delight of children, the favourite of poets and princes. To the last +retaining her enthusiasm and simplicity, mingled with great shrewdness +and knowledge of character, "Frau Aja," as they christened her, was at +once grave and hearty, dignified and simple. She had read most of the +best German and Italian authors, had picked up considerable desultory +information, and had that "mother wit" which so often in women and poets +seems to render culture superfluous, their rapid intuitions anticipating +the tardy conclusions of experience. Her letters are full of spirit: not +always strictly grammatical; not irreproachable in orthography; but +vigorous and vivacious. After a lengthened interview with her, an +enthusiast exclaimed, "Now do I understand how Goethe has become the +man he is!" Wieland, Merck, Buerger, Madame de Stael, Karl August, and +other great people sought her acquaintance. The Duchess Amalia +corresponded with her as with an intimate friend; and her letters were +welcomed eagerly at the Weimar Court. She was married at seventeen to a +man for whom she had no love, and was only eighteen when the poet was +born. This, instead of making her prematurely old, seems to have +perpetuated her girlhood. "I and my Wolfgang," she said, "have always +held fast to each other, because we were both young together." To him +she transmitted her love of story-telling, her animal spirits, her love +of everything which bore the stamp of distinctive individuality, and her +love of seeing happy faces around her. "Order and quiet," she says in +one of her charming letters to Freiherr von Stein, "are my principal +characteristics. Hence I despatch at once whatever I have to do, the +most disagreeable always first, and I gulp down the devil without +looking at him. When all has returned to its proper state, then I defy +any one to surpass me in good humour." Her heartiness and tolerance are +the causes, she thinks, why every one likes her. "I am fond of people, +and _that_ every one feels directly--young and old. I pass without +pretension through the world, and that gratifies men. I never +_bemoralise_ any one--_always seek out the good that is in them, and +leave what is bad to Him who made mankind, and knows how to round off +the angles_. In this way I make myself happy and comfortable." Who does +not recognise the son in those accents? The kindliest of men inherited +his loving, happy nature from the heartiest of women. + + +WHERE--AND OH! WHERE? +[Sidenote: _Henry S. Leigh_] + + Where are the times when--miles away + From the din and the dust of cities-- + Alexis left his lambs to play, + And wooed some shepherdess half the day + With pretty and plaintive ditties? + + Where are the pastures daisy-strewn + And the flocks that lived in clover; + The Zephyrs that caught the pastoral tune + And carried away the notes as soon + As ever the notes were over? + + Where are the echoes that bore the strains + Each to his nearest neighbour; + And all the valleys and all the plains + Where all the nymphs and their love-sick swains + Made merry to pipe and tabor? + + Where are they gone? They are gone to sleep + Where Fancy alone can find them; + But Arcady's times are like the sheep + That quitted the care of Little Bo-peep, + For they've left their tales behind them! + + +THE SECRETS OF THE HEART +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + +"Le coeur mene ou il va" + +_SCENE--A Chalet covered with honeysuckle_ + + NINETTE NINON + + + NINETTE + This way-- + + NINON + No, this way-- + + NINETTE + This way, then. + + (_They enter the Chalet_) + You are as changing, child,--as men. + + NINON + But are they? Is it true, I mean? + Who said it? + + NINETTE + Sister Seraphine. + She was so pious and so good, + With such sad eyes beneath her hood, + And such poor little feet,--all bare! + Her name was Eugenie la Fere. + She used to tell us,--moonlight nights,-- + When I was at the Carmelites. + + NINON + Ah, then it must be right. And yet, + Suppose for once--suppose, Ninette-- + + NINETTE + But what? + + NINON + Suppose it were not so? + Suppose there _were_ true men, you know! + + NINETTE + And then? + + NINON + Why, if that _could_ occur, + What kind of men should you prefer? + + NINETTE + What looks, you mean? + + NINON + Looks, voice and all. + + NINETTE + Well, as to that, he must be tall, + Or say, not "tall"--of middle size; + And next, he must have laughing eyes; + And a hook-nose,--with, underneath, + Oh! what a row of sparkling teeth! + + NINON (_touching her cheek suspiciously_) + Has he a scar on this side? + + NINETTE + Hush! + Some one is coming. No; a thrush: + I see it swinging there. + + NINON + Go on. + + NINETTE + Then he must fence (ah, look, 'tis gone!) + And dance like Monseigneur, and sing + "Love was a Shepherd,"--everything + That men do. Tell me yours, Ninon. + + NINON + Shall I? Then mine has black, black hair ... + I mean, he _should_ have; then an air + Half sad, half noble; features thin; + A little _royale_ on the chin; + And such a pale, high brow. And then, + He is a prince of gentlemen;-- + He, too, can ride and fence and write + Sonnets and madrigals, yet fight + No worse for that-- + + NINETTE + I know your man. + + NINON + And I know yours. But you'll not tell,-- + Swear it! + + NINETTE + I swear upon this fan,-- + My grandmother's! + + NINON + And I, I swear + On this old turquoise _reliquaire_,-- + My great-_great_-grandmother's!-- + _(After a pause)_ + + Ninette! + I feel _so_ sad. + + NINETTE + I too. But why? + + NINON + Alas, I know not! + + NINETTE (_with a sigh_) + Nor do I. + + +BRITISH FESTIVITIES +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +Niagara Falls is a most enjoyable place of resort. The hotels are +excellent, and the prices not at all exorbitant. The opportunities for +fishing are not surpassed in the country; in fact, they are not even +equalled elsewhere. Because, in other localities, certain places in the +streams are much better than others; but at Niagara one place is just as +good as another, for the reason that the fish do not bite anywhere, and +so there is no use in your walking five miles to fish, when you can +depend of being just as unsuccessful nearer home. The advantages of this +state of things have never heretofore been properly placed before the +public. + +The weather is cool in summer, and the walks and drives are all +pleasant, and none of them fatiguing. When you start out to "do" the +Falls you first drive down about a mile, and pay a small sum for the +privilege of looking down from a precipice into the narrowest part of +the Niagara river. A railway "cut" through a hill would be as comely if +it had an angry river tumbling and foaming through its bottom. You can +descend a staircase here a hundred and fifty feet down, and stand at the +edge of the water. After you have done it, you will wonder why you did +it; but you will then be too late. + +The guide will explain to you, in his blood-curdling way, how he saw +the little steamer, _Maid of the Mist,_ descend the fearful rapids--how +first one paddle-box was out of sight behind the raging billows, and +then the other, and at what point it was that her smoke-stack toppled +overboard, and where her planking began to break and part asunder--and +how she did finally live through the trip, after accomplishing the +incredible feat of travelling seventeen miles in six minutes, or six +miles in seventeen minutes, I have really forgotten which. But it was +very extraordinary, anyhow. It is worth the price of admission to hear +the guide tell the story nine times in succession to different parties, +and never miss a word or alter a sentence or a gesture. + +Then you drive over the Suspension Bridge, and divide your misery +between the chances of smashing down two hundred feet into the river +below and the chances of having the railway train overhead smashing down +on to you. Either possibility is discomforting taken by itself, but, +mixed together, they amount in the aggregate to positive unhappiness. + +On the Canada side you drive along the chasm between long ranks of +photographers standing guard behind their cameras, ready to make an +ostentatious frontispiece of you and your decaying ambulance, and your +solemn crate with a hide on it, which you are expected to regard in the +light of a horse, and a diminished and unimportant background of sublime +Niagara; and a great many people _have_ the ineffable effrontery or the +native depravity to aid and abet this sort of crime. + +Any day, in the hands of these photographers, you may see stately +pictures of papa and mamma, Johnny and Bub and Sis, or a couple of +country cousins, all smiling hideously, and all disposed in studied and +uncomfortable attitudes in their carriage, and all looming up in their +grand and awe-inspiring imbecility before the snubbed and diminished +presentment of that majestic presence, whose ministering spirits are the +rainbows, whose voice is the thunder, whose awful front is veiled in +clouds, who was monarch here dead and forgotten ages before this hackful +of small reptiles was deemed temporarily necessary to fill a crack in +the world's unnoted myriads, and will still be monarch here ages and +decades of ages after they shall have gathered themselves to their blood +relations, the other worms, and been mingled with the unremembering +dust. + +There is no actual harm in making Niagara a background whereon to +display one's marvellous insignificance in a good strong light, but it +requires a sort of superhuman self-complacency to enable one to do it. + +When you have examined the stupendous Horseshoe Fall till you are +satisfied you cannot improve on it, you return to America by the new +Suspension Bridge, and follow up the bank to where they exhibit the Cave +of the Winds. + +Here I followed instructions, and divested myself of all my clothing and +put on a waterproof jacket and overalls. This costume is picturesque, +but not beautiful. A guide, similarly dressed, led the way down a flight +of winding stairs, which wound and wound and still kept on winding long +after the thing ceased to be a novelty, and then terminated long before +it had begun to be a pleasure. We were then well down under the +precipice, but still considerably above the level of the river. + +We now began to creep along flimsy bridges of a single plank, our +persons shielded from perdition by a crazy wooden railing, to which I +clung with both hands--not because I was afraid, but because I wanted +to. Presently the descent became steeper, and the bridge flimsier, and +sprays from the American Fall began to rain down on us in +fast-increasing sheets that soon became blinding, and after that our +progress was mostly in the nature of groping. Now a furious wind began +to rush out from behind the waterfall, which seemed determined to sweep +us from the bridge, and scatter us on the rocks and among the torrents +below. I remarked that I wanted to go home; but it was too late. We were +almost under the monstrous wall of water thundering down from above, and +speech was in vain in the midst of such a pitiless crash of sound. + +In another moment the guide disappeared behind the grand deluge, and, +bewildered by the thunder, driven helplessly by the wind, and smitten by +the arrowy tempest of rain, I followed. All was darkness. Such a mad, +storming, roaring, and bellowing of warring wind and water never crazed +my ears before. I bent my head, and seemed to receive the Atlantic on my +back. The world seemed going to destruction. I could not see anything, +the flood poured down so savagely. I raised my head, with open mouth, +and the most of the American cataract went down my throat. If I had +sprung a leak now, I had been lost. And at this moment I discovered that +the bridge had ceased, and we must trust for a foothold to the slippery +and precipitous rocks. I never was so scared before and survived it. But +we got through at last, and emerged into the open day, where we could +stand in front of the laced and frothy and seething world of descending +water, and look at it. When I saw how much of it there was, and how +fearfully in earnest it was, I was sorry I had gone behind it. + +I said to the guide, "Son, did you know what kind of an infernal place +this was before you brought me down here?" + +"Yes." + +This was sufficient. He had known all the horror of the place, and yet +he brought me there! I regarded it as deliberate arson. I then destroyed +him. + +I managed to find my way back alone to the place from whence I had +started on this foolish enterprise, and then hurried over to Canada, to +avoid having to pay for the guide. + +At the principal hotel I fell in with the Major of the 42nd Fusiliers, +and a dozen other hearty and hospitable Englishmen, and they invited me +to join them in celebrating the Queen's birthday. I said I would be +delighted to do it. I said I liked all the Englishmen I had ever +happened to be acquainted with, and that I, like all my countrymen, +admired and honoured the Queen. But I said there was one insuperable +drawback--I never drank anything strong upon any occasion whatever, and +I did not see how I was going to do proper and ample justice to +anybody's birthday with the thin and ungenerous beverages I was +accustomed to. + +The Major scratched his head, and thought over the matter at +considerable length; but there seemed to be no way of mastering the +difficulty, and he was too much of a gentleman to suggest even a +temporary abandonment of my principles. But by-and-by he said: + +"I have it. Drink soda-water. As long as you never do drink anything +more nutritious, there isn't any impropriety in it." + +And so it was settled. We met in a large parlour, handsomely decorated +with flags and evergreens, and seated ourselves at a board well laden +with creature comforts, both solid and liquid. The toasts were happy, +and the speeches were good, and we kept it up until long after midnight. +I never enjoyed myself more in my life. I drank thirty-eight bottles of +soda-water. But do you know that that is not a reliable article for a +steady drink? It is too gassy. When I got up in the morning I was full +of gas, and as tight as a balloon. I hadn't an article of clothing that +I could wear, except my umbrella. + +After breakfast I found the Major making grand preparations again. I +asked what it was for, and he said this was the Prince of Wales's +birthday. It had to be celebrated that evening. We celebrated it. Much +against my expectations, we had another splendid time. We kept it up +till some time after midnight again. I was tired of soda, and so I +changed off for lemonade. I drank several quarts. You may consider +lemonade better for a steady drink than soda-water; but it isn't so. In +the morning it had soured on my stomach. Biting anything was out of the +question--it was equivalent to lockjaw. I was beginning to feel worn and +sad too. + +Shortly after luncheon, I found the Major in the midst of some more +preparations. He said this was the Princess Alice's birthday. I +concealed my grief. + +"Who is the Princess Alice?" I asked. + +"Daughter of her Majesty the Queen," the Major said. + +I succumbed. That night we celebrated the Princess Alice's birthday. We +kept it up as late as usual, and really I enjoyed it a good deal. But I +could not stand lemonade. I drank a couple of kegs of ice-water. + +In the morning I had toothache, and cramps, and chilblains, and my teeth +were on edge from the lemonade, and I was still pretty gassy, I found +the inexorable Major at it again. + +"Who is this for?" I asked. + +"His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh," he said. + +"Son of the Queen?" + +"Yes." + +"And this is his birthday--you haven't made any mistake?" + +"No; the celebration comes off to-night." + +I bowed before the new calamity. We celebrated the day. I drank part of +a barrel of cider. Among the first objects that met my weary and +jaundiced eye the next day was the Major at his interminable +preparations again. My heart was broken, and I wept. + +"Whom do we mourn this time?" I said. + +"The Princess Beatrice, daughter of the Queen." + +"Here, now," I said; "it is time to inquire into this thing. How long is +the Queen's family likely to hold out? Who comes next on the list?" + +"Their Royal Highnesses the Duke of Cambridge, the Princess Royal, +Prince Arthur, Princess Mary of Teck, Prince Leopold, the Grand-duke of +Mecklenburg-Strelitz, the Grand-duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, Prince +..." + +"Hold! There's a limit to human endurance. I am only mortal. What man +dare do, I dare; but he who can celebrate this family in detail, and +live to tell it, is less or more than man. If you have to go through +this every year, it is a mercy I was born in America, for I haven't +constitution enough to be an Englishman. I shall have to withdraw from +this enterprise. I am out of drinks. Out of drinks, and so many more to +celebrate! Out of drinks, and only just on the outskirts of the family +yet, as you may say! I am sorry enough to have to withdraw, but it is +plain enough that it has to be done. I am full of gas, and my teeth are +loose, and I am wrenched with cramps, and afflicted with scurvy, and +toothache, measles, mumps, and lockjaw, and the cider last night has +given me the cholera. Gentlemen, I mean well; but really I am not in a +condition to celebrate the other birthdays. Give us a rest." + + +SIR JOHN WATERS +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +Amongst the distinguished men in the Peninsular War whom my memory +brings occasionally before me, is the well-known and highly popular +Quartermaster-General Sir John Waters, who was born at Margam, a Welsh +village in Glamorganshire. He was one of those extraordinary persons +that seem created by kind nature for particular purposes; and, without +using the word in an offensive sense, he was the most admirable spy that +was ever attached to an army. One would almost have thought that the +Spanish War was entered upon and carried on in order to display his +remarkable qualities. He could assume the character of Spaniards of +every degree and station, so as to deceive the most acute of those whom +he delighted to imitate. In the posada of the village he was hailed by +the contrabandist or the muleteer as one of their own race; in the gay +assemblies he was an accomplished hidalgo; at the bullfight the toreador +received his congratulations as from one who had encountered the toro in +the arena; in the church he would converse with the friar upon the +number of Ave Marias and Paternosters which could lay a ghost, or tell +him the history of every one who had perished by the flame of the +Inquisition, relating his crime, whether carnal or anti-Catholic; and +he could join in the _seguadilla_ or in the _guaracha_. + +But what rendered him more efficient than all was his wonderful power of +observation and acute description, which made the information he gave so +reliable and valuable to the Duke of Wellington. Nothing escaped him. +When amidst a group of persons, he would minutely watch the movement, +attitude, and expression of every individual that composed it; in the +scenery by which he was surrounded he would carefully mark every object: +not a tree, not a bush, not a large stone, escaped his observation; and +it was said that in a cottage he noted every piece of crockery on the +shelf, every domestic utensil, and even the number of knives and forks +that were got ready for use at dinner. + +His acquaintance with the Spanish language was marvellous; from the +finest works of Calderon to the ballads in the patois of every province, +he could quote, to the infinite delight of those with whom he +associated. He could assume any character that he pleased: he could be +the Castilian, haughty and reserved; the Asturian, stupid and plodding; +the Catalonian, intriguing and cunning; the Andalusian, laughing and +merry,--in short, he was all things to all men. Nor was he incapable of +passing off, when occasion required, for a Frenchman; but, as he spoke +the language with a strong German accent, he called himself an Alsatian. +He maintained that character with the utmost nicety; and as there is a +strong feeling of friendship, almost equal to that which exists in +Scotland, amongst all those who are born in the departments of France +bordering on the Rhine, and who maintain their Teutonic originality, he +always found friends and supporters in every regiment in the French +service. + +He was on one occasion entrusted with a very difficult mission by the +Duke of Wellington, which he undertook effectually to perform, and to +return on a particular day with the information that was required. + +Great was the disappointment when it was ascertained beyond a doubt +that, just after leaving the camp, he had been taken prisoner before he +had time to exchange his uniform. Such, however, was the case; a troop +of dragoons had intercepted him, and carried him off; and the commanding +officer desired two soldiers to keep a strict watch over him and carry +him to headquarters. He was, of course, disarmed, and, being placed on a +horse, was, after a short time, galloped off by his guards. He slept one +night under durance vile at a small inn, where he was allowed to remain +in the kitchen; conversation flowed on very glibly, and, as he appeared +a stupid Englishman, who could not understand a word of French or +Spanish, he was allowed to listen, and thus obtained precisely the +intelligence that he was in search of. The following morning, being +again mounted, he overheard a conversation between his guards, who +deliberately agreed to rob him, and to shoot him at a mill where they +were to stop, and to report to their officer that they had been +compelled to fire at him in consequence of his attempt to escape. + +Shortly before they arrived at the mill, for fear that they might meet +with some one who would insist on having a portion of the spoil, the +dragoons took from their prisoner his watch and his purse, which he +surrendered with a good grace. On their arrival at the mill they +dismounted, and, in order to give some appearance of truth to their +story, they went into the house, leaving their prisoner outside, in the +hope that he would make some attempt to escape. In an instant Waters +threw his cloak upon a neighbouring olive-bush, and mounted his cocked +hat on the top. Some empty flour-sacks lay upon the ground, and a horse +laden with well-filled flour-sacks stood at the door. Sir John contrived +to enter one of the empty sacks and throw himself across the horse. When +the soldiers came out of the house they fired their carbines at the +supposed prisoner, and galloped off at the utmost speed. + +A short time after the miller came out and mounted his steed; the +general contrived to rid himself of the encumbrance of the sack, and sat +up, riding behind the man, who, suddenly turning round, saw a ghost, as +he believed, for the flour that still remained in the sack had +completely whitened his fellow-traveller and given him a most unearthly +appearance. The frightened miller was "putrified," as Mrs. Malaprop +would say, at the sight, and a push from the white spectre brought the +unfortunate man to the ground, when away rode the gallant quartermaster +with his sacks of flour, which, at length bursting, made a ludicrous +spectacle of man and horse. + +On reaching the English camp, where Lord Wellington was anxiously +deploring his fate, a sudden shout from the soldiers made his lordship +turn round, when a figure, resembling the statue in "Don Juan," galloped +up to him. The duke, affectionately shaking him by the hand, said: + +"Waters, you never yet deceived me; and, though you have come in a most +questionable shape, I must congratulate you and myself." + +When this story was told at the Club, one of those listeners who always +want something more called out, "Well, and what did Waters say?" to +which Alvanley replied: + +"Oh, Waters made a very _flowery_ speech, like a well-bred man." + + +LORD WESTMORELAND +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +When I was presented at the Court of Louis XVIII. Lord Westmoreland, the +grandfather of the present lord, accompanied Sir Charles Stewart to the +Tuileries. On our arrival in the room where the King was we formed +ourselves into a circle, when the King good-naturedly inquired after +Lady Westmoreland, from whom his lordship was divorced, and whether she +was in Paris. Upon this the noble lord looked sullen, and refused to +reply to the question put by the King. His Majesty, however, repeated +it, when Lord Westmoreland hallooed out, in bad French, "Je ne sais pas, +je ne sais pas, je ne sais pas." Louis, rising, said, "Assez, milord; +assez, milord." + +On one occasion, Lord Westmoreland, who was Lord Privy Seal, being asked +what office he held, replied, "Le Chancellier est le grand sceau (sot); +moi je suis le petit sceau d'Angle-terre." On another occasion, he +wished to say "I would if I could, but I can't," and rendered it, "Je +voudrais si je coudrais, mais je ne cannais pas." + + +COLONEL KELLY AND HIS BLACKING +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +Among the odd characters I have met with, I do not recollect any one +more eccentric than the late Lieutenant-Colonel Kelly, of the First Foot +Guards, who was the vainest man I ever encountered. He was a thin, +emaciated-looking dandy, but had all the bearing of a gentleman. He was +haughty in the extreme, and very fond of dress; his boots were so well +varnished that the polish now in use could not surpass Kelly's blacking +in brilliancy; his pantaloons were made of the finest leather, and his +coats were inimitable; in short, his dress was considered perfect. + +His sister held the place of housekeeper to the Custom-house, and when +it was burnt down, Kelly was burnt with it, in endeavouring to save his +favourite boots. When the news of his horrible death became known, all +the dandies were anxious to secure the service of his valet, who +possessed the mystery of the inimitable blacking. Brummell lost no time +in discovering his place of residence, and asked what wages he required; +the servant answered, his late master gave him L150 a year, but it was +not enough for his talents, and he should require L200; upon which +Brummell said, "Well, if you will make it guineas, _I_ shall be happy to +attend upon _you_." The late Lord Plymouth eventually secured this +phoenix of valets at L200 a year, and bore away the sovereignty of +boots. + + +JOHN KEMBLE +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +John Kemble had the honour of giving the Prince of Wales some lessons in +elocution. According to the vitiated pronunciation of the day, the +Prince, instead of saying "oblige," would say "obleege," upon which +Kemble, with much disgust depicted upon his countenance, said: + +"Sir, may I beseech your Royal Highness to open your royal jaws, and say +'oblige'?" + + +ROGERS AND LUTTRELL +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +I saw a good deal of the poet Rogers during his frequent visits to +Paris; and often visited him in his apartments, which were always on the +fourth or fifth story of the hotel or private house in which he lived. +He was rich, and by no means avaricious, and chose those lofty chambers +partly from a poetic wish to see the sun rise with greater brilliancy, +and partly from a fancy that the exercise he was obliged to take in +going up and down stairs would prove beneficial to his liver. + +I could relate many unpublished anecdotes of Rogers, but they lose their +piquancy when one attempts to narrate them. There was so much in his +appearance, in that cadaverous, unchanging countenance, in the peculiar +low, drawling voice, and rather tremulous accents in which he spoke. His +intonations were very much those one fancies a ghost would use if forced +by some magic spell to give utterance to sounds. The mild venom of every +word was a remarkable trait in his conversation. One might have compared +the old poet to one of those velvety caterpillars that crawl gently and +quietly over the skin, but leave an irritating blister behind. To those, +like myself, who were _sans_ consequence, and with whom he feared no +rivalry, he was very good-natured and amiable, and a most pleasant +companion, with a fund of curious anecdote about everything and +everybody. But woe betide those in great prosperity and renown; they +had, like the Roman emperor, in Rogers the personification of the slave +who bade them "remember they were mortal." + +At an evening party many years since at Lady Jersey's every one was +praising the Duke of B----, who had just come in, and who had lately +attained his majority. There was a perfect chorus of admiration to this +effect: "Everything is in his favour--he has good looks, considerable +abilities, and a hundred thousand a year." Rogers, who had been +carefully examining the "young ruler," listened to these encomiums for +some time in silence, and at last remarked, with an air of great +exultation, and in his most venomous manner, "Thank God, he has got bad +teeth!" + +His well-known epigram on Mr. Ward, afterwards Lord Dudley-- + + They say that Ward's no heart, but I deny it; + He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it-- + +was provoked by a remark made at table by Mr. Ward. On Rogers observing +that his carriage had broken down, and that he had been obliged to come +in a hackney-coach, Mr. Ward grumbled out in a very audible whisper, "In +a hearse, I should think," alluding to the poet's corpse-like +appearance. This remark Rogers never forgave, and, I have no doubt, +pored over his retaliatory impromptu, for he had no facility in +composition. Sydney Smith used to say that, if Rogers was writing a +dozen verses, the street was strewn with straw, the knocker tied up, +and the answer to the tender inquiries of his anxious friends was, that +Mr. Rogers was as well as could be expected. + +It used to be very amusing in London to see Rogers with his _fidus +Achates_, Luttrell. They were inseparable, though rival wits, and +constantly saying bitter things to each other. Luttrell was the natural +son of Lord Carhampton, Commander-in-Chief in Ireland, and in his youth +known as the famous Colonel Luttrell of Junius. I consider him to have +been the most agreeable man I ever met. He was far more brilliant in +conversation than Rogers; and his animated, bustling manner formed an +agreeable contrast with the spiteful calmness of his corpse-like +companion. He was extremely irritable, and even passionate; and in his +moments of anger he would splutter and stutter like a maniac in his +anxiety to give utterance to the flow of thoughts which crowded his +mind, and, I might almost say, his mouth. + +On one occasion the late Lady Holland took him a drive in her carriage +over a rough road, and, as she was very nervous, she insisted on being +driven at a foot's pace. This ordeal lasted some hours, and when he was +at last released, poor Luttrell, perfectly exasperated, rushed into the +nearest club-house, and exclaimed, clenching his teeth and hands, "The +very funerals passed us!" + + +THE PIG-FACED LADY +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +Among the many absurd reports and ridiculous stories current in former +days, I know of none more absurd or more ridiculous than the general +belief of everybody in London, during the winter of 1814, in the +existence of a lady with a pig's face. This interesting specimen of +porcine physiognomy was said to be the daughter of a great lady residing +in Grosvenor Square. + +It was rumoured that during the illuminations which took place to +celebrate the peace, when a great crowd had assembled in Piccadilly and +St. James's Street, and when carriages could not move on very rapidly, +_horresco referens!_ an enormous pig's snout had been seen protruding +from a fashionable-looking bonnet in one of the landaus which were +passing. The mob cried out, "The pig-faced lady! Stop the carriage--stop +the carriage!" The coachman, wishing to save his bacon, whipped his +horses, and drove through the crowd at a tremendous pace; but it was +said that the coach had been seen to set down its monstrous load in +Grosvenor Square. + +Another report was also current. Sir William Elliot, a youthful baronet, +calling one day to pay his respects to the great lady in Grosvenor +Square, was ushered into a drawing-room, where he found a person +fashionably dressed, who, on turning towards him, displayed a hideous +pig's face. Sir William, a timid young gentleman, could not refrain from +uttering a shout of horror, and rushed to the door in a manner the +reverse of polite; when the infuriated lady or animal, uttering a series +of grunts, rushed at the unfortunate baronet as he was retreating, and +inflicted a severe wound on the back of his neck. This highly improbable +story concluded by stating that Sir William's wound was a severe one, +and had been dressed by Hawkins, the surgeon, in St. Audley Street. + +I am really almost ashamed to repeat this absurd story; but many persons +now alive can remember the strong belief in the existence of the +pig-faced lady which prevailed in the public mind at the time of which I +speak. The shops were full of caricatures of the pig-faced lady, in a +poke bonnet and large veil, with "A pig in a poke" written underneath +the print. Another sketch represented Sir William Elliot's misadventure, +and was entitled, "Beware the pig-sty!" + + +HOBY, THE BOOTMAKER, OF ST. JAMES'S STREET +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +Hoby was not only the greatest and most fashionable bootmaker in London, +but, in spite of the old adage, _ne sutor ultra crepidam_, he employed +his spare time with considerable success as a Methodist preacher at +Islington. He was said to have in his employment three hundred workmen; +and he was so great a man in his own estimation that he was apt to take +rather an insolent tone with his customers. He was, however, tolerated +as a sort of privileged person, and his impertinence was not only +overlooked but was considered as rather a good joke. He was a pompous +fellow, with a considerable vein of sarcastic humour. + +I remember Horace Churchill (afterwards killed in India with the rank of +major-general), who was then an ensign in the Guards, entering Hoby's +shop in a great passion, saying that his boots were so ill made that he +should never employ Hoby for the future. Hoby, putting on a pathetic +cast of countenance, called to his shopman: + +"John, close the shutters. It is all over with us. I must shut up shop; +Ensign Churchill withdraws his custom from me." + +Churchill's fury can be better imagined than described. + +On another occasion the late Sir John Shelley came into Hoby's shop to +complain that his top-boots had split in several places. Hoby quietly +said: + +"How did that happen, Sir John?" + +"Why, in walking to my stables." + +"Walking to your stables!" said Hoby, with a sneer. "I made the boots +for riding, not walking." + +Hoby was bootmaker to the Duke of Kent; and, as he was calling on H.R.H. +to try on some boots, the news arrived that Lord Wellington had gained a +great victory over the French army at Vittoria. The duke was kind enough +to mention the glorious news to Hoby, who coolly said: + +"If Lord Wellington had had any other bootmaker than myself he never +would have had his great and constant successes; for my boots and +prayers bring his lordship out of all his difficulties." + +One may well say that there is nothing like leather; for Hoby died worth +a hundred and twenty thousand pounds. + +Hoby was bootmaker to George III., the Prince of Wales, the royal dukes, +and many officers in the Army and Navy. His shop was situated at the top +of St. James's Street, at the corner of Piccadilly, next to the Old +Guards Club. He was bootmaker to the Duke of Wellington from his +boyhood, and received innumerable orders in the duke's handwriting, both +from the Peninsula and France, which he always religiously preserved. +Hoby was the first man who drove about London in a tilbury. It was +painted black, and drawn by a beautiful black cob. This vehicle was +built by the inventor, Mr. Tilbury, whose manufactory was, fifty years +back, in a street leading from South Audley Street into Park Street. + + +HARRINGTON HOUSE AND LORD PETERSHAM +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +When our army returned to England in 1814 my young friend, Augustus +Stanhope, took me one afternoon to Harrington House, in Stable-yard, +St. James's, where I was introduced to Lord and Lady Harrington, and all +the Stanhopes. On entering a long gallery, I found the whole family +engaged in their sempiternal occupation of tea-drinking. Neither in +Nankin, Pekin, nor Canton was the teapot more assiduously and constantly +replenished than at this hospitable mansion. I was made free of the +corporation, if I may use the phrase, by a cup being handed to me; and I +must say that I never tasted any tea so good before or since. + +As an example of the undeviating tea-table habits of the house of +Harrington, General Lincoln Stanhope once told me that, after an absence +of several years in India, he made his reappearance at Harrington House, +and found the family, as he had left them on his departure, drinking tea +in the long gallery. On his presenting himself, his father's only +observation and speech of welcome to him was, "Hallo, Linky, my dear +boy! delighted to see you. Have a cup of tea?" + + +LORD ALVANLEY +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +From the time of good Queen Bess, when the English language first began +to assume somewhat of its present form, idiom, and mode of expression, +to the day of our most gracious sovereign Queen Victoria, every age has +had its punsters, humorists, and eloquent conversationalists; but I much +doubt whether the year 1789 did not produce the greatest wit of modern +times, in the person of William Lord Alvanley. + +After receiving a very excellent and careful education, Alvanley entered +the Coldstream Guards at an early age, and served with distinction at +Copenhagen and in the Peninsula; but, being in possession of a large +fortune, he left the Army, gave himself up entirely to the pursuit of +pleasure, and became one of the principal dandies of the day. With the +brilliant talents which he possessed, he might have attained to the +highest eminence in any line of life he had embraced. + +Not only was Alvanley considered the wittiest man of his day in England, +but, during his residence in France, and tours through Russia and other +countries, he was universally admitted to possess, not only great wit +and humour, but _l'esprit francais_ in its highest perfection; and no +greater compliment could be paid him by foreigners than this. He was one +of the rare examples (particularly rare in the days of the dandies, who +were generally sour and spiteful) of a man combining brilliant wit and +repartee with the most perfect good-nature. His manner, above all, was +irresistible; and the slight lisp, which might have been considered as a +blemish, only added piquancy and zest to his sayings. + +In appearance he was about the middle height, and well and strongly +built, though he latterly became somewhat corpulent. He excelled in all +manly exercises, was a hard rider to hounds, and was what those who do +not belong to the upper ten thousand call "a good-plucked one." His face +had somewhat of the rotund form and smiling expression which +characterises the jolly friars one meets with in Italy. His hair and +eyes were dark, and he had a very small nose, to which, after deep +potations, his copious pinches of snuff had some difficulty in finding +their way, and were in consequence rather lavishly bestowed upon his +florid cheek. He resided in Park Street, St. James's, and his dinners +there and at Melton were considered to be the best in England. He never +invited more than eight people, and insisted upon having the somewhat +expensive luxury of an apricot-tart on the sideboard the whole year +round. + +Alvanley was a good speaker; and, having made some allusion to O'Connell +in rather strong terms in the House of Lords, the latter very coarsely +and unjustly denounced him, in a speech he made in the House of Commons, +as a bloated buffoon. Alvanley thereupon called out the Liberator, who +would not meet him, but excused himself by saying, "There is blood +already on this hand"--alluding to his fatal duel with D'Esterre. + +Alvanley then threatened O'Connell with personal chastisement. Upon +this, Morgan O'Connell, a very agreeable, gentlemanlike man, who had +been in the Austrian service, and whom I knew well, said he would take +his father's place. A meeting was accordingly agreed upon at Wimbledon +Common, Alvanley's second was Colonel George Dawson Damer, and our late +consul at Hamburgh, Colonel Hodges, acted for Morgan O'Connell. Several +shots were fired without effect, and the seconds then interfered and put +a stop to any further hostilities. + +On their way home in a hackney-coach, Alvanley said, "What a clumsy +fellow O'Connell must be, to miss such a fat fellow as I am! He ought to +practise at a haystack to get his hand in." When the carriage drove up +to Alvanley's door, he gave the coachman a sovereign. Jarvey was profuse +in his thanks and said, "It's a great deal for only having taken your +lordship to Wimbledon." + +"No, my good man," said Alvanley; "I give it you, not for taking me, but +for bringing me back." + +Everybody knows the story of Gunter, the pastrycook. He was mounted on a +runaway horse with the King's hounds, and excused himself for riding +against Alvanley by saying, "Oh my lord, I can't hold him, he's so hot!" +"Ice him, Gunter--ice him!" was the consoling rejoinder. + +In the hunting-field in a northern county, Sir Charles S----, whose +married life was not a very happy one, wore one morning at the meet a +wonderful greatcoat, with enormous horn buttons. Alvanley, riding up to +him, and apparently looking at the buttons with great admiration, said, +"A little attention of Lady S----'s, I presume, Sir Charles?" + +Alvanley had a delightful recklessness and _laisser aller_ in +everything. His manner of putting out his light at night was not a very +pleasant one for his host for the time being. He always read in bed, and +when he wanted to go to sleep he either extinguished his candle by +throwing it on the floor in the middle of the room, and taking a shot at +it with the pillow, or else quietly placed it, when still lighted, under +the bolster. At Badminton, and other country houses, his habits in this +respect were so well known that a servant was ordered to sit up in the +passage to keep watch over him. + +Alvanley's recklessness in money matters was almost incredible. His +creditors having become at last very clamorous, that able and astute man +of the world, Mr. Charles Greville, with the energetic and bustling +kindness in mixing himself up in all his friends' affairs which still +distinguishes him, had undertaken to settle those of Alvanley. After +going through every item of the debts, matters looked more promising +than Mr. Greville expected, and he took his leave. In the morning he +received a note from Alvanley, to say that he had quite forgotten to +take into account a debt of fifty-five thousand pounds. + + +SALLY LUNN +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +Some fifty years back, or thereabouts, Albinia, Countess of +Buckinghamshire, lived in her charming villa in Pimlico, surrounded by a +large and beautiful garden. It was here she used to entertain the +_elite_ of London society with magnificent _fetes, bal champetres_, and +public breakfasts. After one of those _fetes_, I called one morning to +pay my respects; and, on ringing the bell, the servant ushered me into +the conservatory, where I found Lady Harrington, the celebrated +cantatrice Mrs. Billington, and the Duke of Sussex, who was said to be +very much _epris_ with the English "Catalani," as she was called. + +Mrs. Billington was extremely beautiful, though it was absurd to compare +her to Catalani as a singer; but she was the favourite of the Duke of +Sussex, which made her many friends. During my visit, chocolate and +tea-cakes were served to our party, when Lady Harrington related a +curious anecdote about those cakes. She said her friend Madame de +Narbonne, during the emigration, determined not to live upon the bounty +of foreigners, found means to amass money enough to enable her to open a +shop in Chelsea, not far from the then fashionable balls of Ranelagh. + +It had been the custom in France, before the Revolution, for young +ladies in some noble families to learn the art of making preserves and +pastry; accordingly, Madame de Narbonne commenced her operations under +the auspices of some of her acquaintances; and all those who went to +Ranelagh made a point of stopping and buying some of her cakes. Their +fame spread like lightning throughout the West End, and orders were +given to have them sent for breakfast and tea in many great houses in +the neighbourhood of St. James's. Madame de Narbonne employed a Scotch +maid-servant to execute her orders. The name of this woman was "Sally +Lunn," and ever since a particular kind of tea-cake has gone by that +name. + +Madame de Narbonne, not speaking English, replied to her customers (when +they inquired the name of the _brioches_), "bon." Hence the etymology of +"bun," according to Lady Harrington; but I confess that I do not feel +quite satisfied with her derivation. + + +"MONK" LEWIS +[Sidenote: _Captain Gronow_] + +"Monk" Lewis had a black servant, affectionately attached to his master; +but so ridiculously did this servant repeat his master's expressions, +that he became the laughing-stock of all his master's friends. Brummell +used often to raise a hearty laugh at Carlton House by repeating +witticisms which he pretended to have heard from Lewis's servant; some +of these were very stale; yet they were considered so good as to be +repeated at the clubs, and greatly added to the reputation of the Beau +as a teller of good things. "On one occasion," said Brummell, "I called +to inquire after a young lady who had sprained her ankle. Lewis, on +being asked how she was, had said, in the black's presence, 'The doctor +has seen her, put her legs straight, and the poor chicken is doing +well.' The servant, therefore, told me, with a mysterious and knowing +look, 'Oh, sir, the doctor has been here, she has laid eggs, and she and +the chickens are doing well.'" + + +THE CARELESSE NURSE MAYD +[Sidenote: _Hood_] + + I sawe a Mayd sitte on a Bank, + Beguiled by Wooer fayne and fond; + And whiles His flatterynge Vowes she drank, + Her Nurselynge slipt within a Pond! + + All Even Tide they Talkde and Kist, + For She was fayre and He was Kinde; + The Sunne went down before She wist + Another Sonne had sett behinde! + + With angrie Hands and frownynge Browe, + That deemd Her owne the Urchine's Sinne, + She pluckt Him out, but he was nowe + Past being Whipt for fallynge in. + + She then beginnes to wayle the Ladde + With Shrikes that Echo answered round-- + O! foolishe Mayd to be soe sadde + The Momente that her Care was drownd! + + +SHY NEIGHBOURHOODS +[Sidenote: _Charles Dickens_] + +One of the pleasantest things I have lately met with, in a vagabond +course of shy metropolitan neighbourhoods and small shops, is the fancy +of a humble artist, as exemplified in two portraits representing Mr. +Thomas Sayers, of Great Britain, and Mr. John Heenan, of the United +States of America. These illustrious men are highly coloured in fighting +trim and fighting attitude. To suggest the pastoral and meditative +nature of their peaceful calling, Mr. Heenan is represented on emerald +sward, with primroses and other modest flowers springing up under the +heels of his half-boots; while Mr. Sayers is impelled to the +administration of his favourite blow, the Auctioneer, by the silent +eloquence of a village church. The humble homes of England, with their +domestic virtues and honeysuckle porches, urge both heroes to go in and +win; and the lark and other singing birds are observable in the upper +air, ecstatically carolling their thanks to Heaven for a fight. On the +whole, the associations entwined with the pugilistic art by this artist +are much in the manner of Izaak Walton. + +But it is with the lower animals of back streets and by-ways that my +present purpose rests. For human notes we may return to such +neighbourhoods when leisure and opportunity serve. + +Nothing in shy neighbourhoods perplexes my mind more than the bad +company birds keep. Foreign birds often get into good society, but +British birds are inseparable from low associates. There is a whole +street of them in St. Giles's; and I always find them in poor and +immoral neighbourhoods, convenient to the public-house and the +pawnbroker's. They seem to lead people into drinking, and even the man +who makes their cages usually gets into a chronic state of black eye. +Why is this? Also, they will do things for people in short-skirted +velveteen coats with bone buttons, or in sleeved waistcoats and fur +caps, which they cannot be persuaded by the respectable orders of +society to undertake. In a dirty court in Spitalfields, once, I found a +goldfinch drawing his own water, and drawing as much of it as if he were +in a consuming fever. That goldfinch lived at a bird-shop, and offered, +in writing, to barter himself against old clothes, empty bottles, or +even kitchen stuff. Surely a low thing and a depraved taste in any +finch! I bought that goldfinch for money. He was sent home, and hung +upon a nail over against my table. He lived outside a counterfeit +dwelling-house, supposed (as I argued) to be a dyer's; otherwise it +would have been impossible to account for his perch sticking out of the +garret window. From the time of his appearance in my room, either he +left off being thirsty--which was not in the bond--or he could not make +up his mind to hear his little bucket drop back into his well when he +let it go; a shock which in the best of times had made him tremble. He +drew no water but by stealth and under the cloak of night. After an +interval of futile and at length hopeless expectation, the merchant who +had educated him was appealed to. The merchant was a bow-legged +character, with a flat and cushiony nose, like the last new strawberry. +He wore a fur cap and shorts, and was of the velveteen race, velveteeny. +He sent word that he would "look round." He looked round, appeared in +the doorway of the room, and slightly cocked up his evil eye at the +goldfinch. Instantly a raging thirst beset that bird; when it was +appeased, he still drew several unnecessary buckets of water; and +finally, leaped about his perch and sharpened his bill as if he had been +to the nearest wine-vaults and got drunk. + +Donkeys, again. I know shy neighbourhoods where the donkey goes in at +the street-door, and appears to live upstairs, for I have examined the +back-yard from over the palings, and have been unable to make him out. +Gentility, nobility, royalty, would appeal to that donkey in vain to do +what he does for a costermonger. Feed him with oats at the highest +price, put an infant prince and princess in a pair of panniers on his +back, adjust his delicate trappings to a nicety, take him to the softest +slopes at Windsor, and try what pace you can get out of him. Then starve +him, harness him anyhow to a truck with a flat tray on it, and see him +bowl from Whitechapel to Bayswater. There appears to be no particular +private understanding between birds and donkeys, in a state of nature; +but in the shy neighbourhood state you shall see them always in the same +hands and always developing their very best energies for the very worst +company. I have known a donkey--by sight; we were not on speaking +terms--who lived over on the Surrey side of London Bridge, among the +fastnesses of Jacob's Island and Dockhead. It was the habit of that +animal, when his services were not in immediate requisition, to go out +alone idling. I have met him a mile from his place of residence, +loitering about the streets; and the expression of his countenance at +such times was most degraded. He was attached to the establishment of an +elderly lady who sold periwinkles, and he used to stand on Saturday +nights with a cartful of those delicacies outside a gin-shop, pricking +up his ears when a customer came to the cart, and too evidently deriving +satisfaction from the knowledge that they got bad measure. His mistress +was sometimes overtaken by inebriety. The last time I ever saw him +(about five years ago) he was in circumstances of difficulty, caused by +this failing. Having been left alone with the cart of periwinkles, and +forgotten, he went off idling. He prowled among his usual low haunts for +some time, gratifying his depraved tastes, until, not taking the cart +into his calculations, he endeavoured to turn up a narrow alley, and +became greatly involved. He was taken into custody by the police, and, +the Green Yard of the district being near at hand, was backed into that +place of durance. At that crisis I encountered him; the stubborn sense +he evinced of being--not to compromise the expression--a blackguard, I +never saw exceeded in the human subject. A flaring candle in a paper +shade, stuck in among his periwinkles, showed him, with his ragged +harness broken and his cart extensively shattered, twitching his mouth +and shaking his hanging head, a picture of disgrace and obduracy. I have +seen boys being taken to station-houses, who were as like him as his own +brother. + +The dogs of shy neighbourhoods I observe to avoid play, and to be +conscious of poverty. They avoid work, too, if they can, of course; that +is in the nature of all animals. I have the pleasure to know a dog in a +back street in the neighbourhood of Walworth who has greatly +distinguished himself in the minor drama, and who takes his portrait +with him when he makes an engagement, for the illustration of the +playbill. His portrait (which is not at all like him) represents him in +the act of dragging to the earth a recreant Indian, who is supposed to +have tomahawked, or essayed to tomahawk, a British officer. The design +is pure poetry, for there is no such Indian in the piece, and no such +incident. He is a dog of the Newfoundland breed, for whose honesty I +would be bail to any amount; but whose intellectual qualities in +association with dramatic fiction I cannot rate high. Indeed, he is too +honest for the profession he has entered. Being at a town in Yorkshire +last summer, and seeing him posted in the bill of the night, I attended +the performance. His first scene was eminently successful; but, as it +occupied a second in its representation (and five lines in the bill), it +scarcely afforded ground for a cool and deliberate judgment of his +powers. He had merely to bark, run on, and jump through an inn window, +after a comic fugitive. The next scene of importance to the fable was a +little marred in its interest by his over-anxiety; forasmuch as while +his master (a belated soldier in a den of robbers on a tempestuous +night) was feelingly lamenting the absence of his faithful dog, and +laying great stress on the fact that he was thirty leagues away, the +faithful dog was barking furiously in the prompter's box, and clearly +choking himself against his collar. But it was in his greatest scene of +all that his honesty got the better of him. He had to enter a dense and +trackless forest, on the trail of the murderer, and there to fly at the +murderer when he found him resting at the foot of a tree, with his +victim bound ready for slaughter. It was a hot night, and he came into +the forest from an altogether unexpected direction, in the sweetest +temper, at a very deliberate trot, not in the least excited; trotted to +the foot-lights with his tongue out; and there sat down, panting, and +amiably surveying the audience, with his tail beating the boards, like a +Dutch clock. Meanwhile the murderer, impatient to receive his doom, was +audibly calling to him "Co-o-ome here!" while the victim, struggling +with his bonds, assailed him with the most injurious expressions. It +happened, through these means, that when he was in course of time +persuaded to trot up and rend the murderer limb from limb, he made it +(for dramatic purposes) a little too obvious that he worked out that +awful retribution by licking butter off his blood-stained hands. + +In a shy street behind Long Acre, two honest dogs live who perform in +Punch's shows. I may venture to say that I am on terms of intimacy with +both, and that I never saw either guilty of the falsehood of failing to +look down at the man inside the show, during the whole performance. The +difficulty other dogs have in satisfying their minds about these dogs +appears to be never overcome by time. The same dogs must encounter them +over and over again, as they trudge along in their off-minutes behind +the legs of the show and beside the drum; but all dogs seem to suspect +their frills and jackets, and to sniff at them as if they thought those +articles of personal adornment an eruption--a something in the nature of +mange, perhaps. From this Covent-garden window of mine I noticed a +country dog only the other day, who had come up to Covent Garden Market +under a cart, and had broken his cord, an end of which he still trailed +along with him. He loitered about the corners of the four streets +commanded by my window; and bad London dogs came up and told him lies +that he didn't believe; and worse London dogs came up and made proposals +to him to go end steal in the market, which his principles rejected; and +the ways of the town confused him, and he crept aside and lay down in a +doorway. He had scarcely got a wink of sleep, when up comes Punch with +Toby. He was darting to Toby for consolation and advice, when he saw the +frill, and stopped, in the middle of the street, appalled. The show was +pitched, Toby retired behind the drapery, the audience formed, the drum +and pipes struck up. My country dog remained immovable, intently staring +at these strange appearances, until Toby opened the drama by appearing +on his ledge, and to him entered Punch, who put a tobacco-pipe into +Toby's mouth. At this spectacle the country dog threw up his head, gave +one terrible howl, and fled due west. + +We talk of men keeping dogs, but we might often talk more expressively +of dogs keeping men. I know a bull-dog in a shy corner of Hammersmith +who keeps a man. He keeps him up a yard, and makes him go to the +public-houses and lay wagers on him, and obliges him to lean against +posts and look at him, and forces him to neglect work for him, and keeps +him under rigid coercion. I once knew a fancy terrier who kept a +gentleman--a gentleman who had been brought up at Oxford, too. The dog +kept the gentleman entirely for his glorification, and the gentleman +never talked about anything but the terrier. This, however, was not in a +shy neighbourhood, and is a digression consequently. + +There are a great many dogs in shy neighbourhoods who keep boys. I have +my eye on a mongrel in Somerstown who keeps three boys. He feigns that +he can bring down sparrows and unburrow rats (he can do neither), and he +takes the boys out on sporting pretences into all sorts of suburban +fields. He has likewise made them believe that he possesses some +mysterious knowledge of the art of fishing, and they consider themselves +incompletely equipped for the Hampstead ponds, with a pickle-jar and +wide-mouthed bottle, unless he is with them and barking tremendously. +There is a dog residing in the Borough of Southwark who keeps a blind +man. He may be seen most days, in Oxford Street, haling the blind man +away on expeditions wholly uncontemplated by, and unintelligible to, the +man; wholly of the dog's conception and execution. Contrariwise, when +the man has projects, the dog will sit down in a crowded thoroughfare +and meditate. I saw him yesterday, wearing the money-tray like an easy +collar, instead of offering it to the public, taking the man against his +will, on the invitation of a disreputable cur, apparently to visit a dog +at Harrow--he was so intent on that direction. The north wall of +Burlington House Gardens, between the Arcade and the Albany, offers a +shy spot for appointments among blind men at about two or three o'clock +in the afternoon. They sit (very uncomfortably) on a sloping stone +there, and compare notes. Their dogs may always be observed, at the same +time, openly disparaging the men they keep, to one another, and settling +where they shall respectively take their men when they begin to move +again. At a small butcher's in a shy neighbourhood (there is no reason +for suppressing the name; it is by Notting Hill, and gives upon the +district called the Potteries), I know a shaggy black-and-white dog who +keeps a drover. He is a dog of an easy disposition, and too frequently +allows this drover to get drunk. On these occasions it is the dog's +custom to sit outside the public-house, keeping his eye on a few sheep, +plainly casting up in his mind how many he began with when he left the +market, and at what places he has left the rest. I have seen him +perplexed by not being able to account to himself for certain particular +sheep. A light has gradually broken on him, he has remembered at what +butcher's he left them, and in a burst of grave satisfaction has caught +a fly off his nose, and shown himself much relieved. If I could at any +time have doubted the fact that it was he who kept the drover, and not +the drover who kept him, it would have been abundantly proved by his way +of taking undivided charge of the six sheep, when the drover came out +besmeared with red ochre and beer, and gave him wrong directions, which +he calmly disregarded. He has taken the sheep entirely into his own +hands, has merely remarked with respectful firmness, "That instruction +would place them under an omnibus; you had better confine your attention +to yourself--you will want it all"; and has driven his charge away, with +an intelligence of ears and tail, and a knowledge of business, that has +left his lout of a man very, very far behind. + +As the dogs of shy neighbourhoods usually betray a slinking +consciousness of being in poor circumstances--for the most part +manifested in an aspect of anxiety, an awkwardness in their play, and a +misgiving that somebody is going to harness them to something, to pick +up a living--so the cats of shy neighbourhoods exhibit a strong tendency +to relapse into barbarism. Not only are they made selfishly ferocious by +ruminating on the surplus population around them, and on the densely +crowded state of all the avenues to cats'-meat; not only is there a +moral and politico-economical haggardness in them, traceable to these +reflections; but they evince a physical deterioration. Their linen is +not clean, and is wretchedly got up; their black turns rusty, like old +mourning; they wear very indifferent fur; and take to the shabbiest +cotton velvet, instead of silk velvet. I am on terms of recognition with +several small streets of cats, about the Obelisk in Saint George's +Fields, and also in the vicinity of Clerkenwell Green, and also in the +back settlements of Drury Lane. In appearance, they are very like the +women among whom they live. They seem to turn out of their unwholesome +beds into the street, without any preparation. They leave their young +families to stagger about the gutters, unassisted, while they frouzily +quarrel and swear and scratch and spit at street corners. In particular, +I remark that when they are about to increase their families (an event +of frequent recurrence) the resemblance is strongly expressed in a +certain dusty dowdiness down-at-heel self-neglect, and general giving up +of things. I cannot honestly report that I have ever seen a feline +matron of this class washing her face when in an interesting condition. + +Not to prolong these notes of uncommercial travel among the lower +animals of shy neighbourhoods by dwelling at length upon the exasperated +moodiness of the tom-cats and their resemblance in many respects to a +man and a brother, I will come to a close with a word on the fowls of +the same localities. + +That anything born of an egg and invested with wings should have got to +the pass that it hops contentedly down a ladder into a cellar, and calls +_that_ going home, is a circumstance so amazing as to leave one nothing +more in this connexion to wonder at. Otherwise I might wonder at the +completeness with which these fowls have become separated from all the +birds of the air--have taken to grovelling in bricks and mortar and +mud--have forgotten all about live trees and make roosting-places of +shop-boards, barrows, oyster-tubs, bulk-heads, and door-scrapers. I +wonder at nothing concerning them, and take them as they are. I accept +as products of nature and things of course a reduced Bantam family of my +acquaintance in the Hackney Road, who are incessantly at the +pawnbroker's. I cannot say that they enjoy themselves, for they are of a +melancholy temperament; but what enjoyment they are capable of they +derive from crowding together in the pawnbroker's side-entry. Here, they +are always to be found in a feeble flutter, as if they were newly come +down in the world, and were afraid of being identified. I know a low +fellow, originally of a good family from Dorking, who takes his whole +establishment of wives, in single file, in at the door of the jug +department of a disorderly tavern near the Haymarket, manoeuvres them +among the company's legs, emerges with them at the Bottle Entrance, and +so passes his life. Over Waterloo Bridge there is a shabby old speckled +couple (they belong to the wooden French-bedstead, washingstand, and +towel-horse-making trade) who are always trying to get in at the door of +a chapel. Whether the old lady, under a delusion reminding one of Mrs. +Southcott, has an idea of entrusting an egg to that particular +denomination, or merely understands that she has no business in the +building and is consequently frantic to enter it, I cannot determine; +but she is constantly endeavouring to undermine the principal door; +while her partner, who is infirm upon his legs, walks up and down, +encouraging her and defying the Universe. But the family I have been +best acquainted with, since the removal from this trying sphere of a +Chinese circle at Brentford, reside in the densest part of Bethnal +Green. Their abstraction from the objects among which they live, or +rather their conviction that those objects have all come into existence +in express subservience to fowls, has so enchanted me that I have made +them the subject of many journeys at divers hours. After careful +observation of the two lords and the ten ladies of whom this family +consists, I have come to the conclusion that their opinions are +represented by the leading lord and leading lady: the latter, as I +judge, an aged personage, afflicted with a paucity of feathers and +visibility of quill, that gives her the appearance of a bundle of +office-pens. When a railway goods van that would crush an elephant comes +round the corner, tearing over these fowls, they emerge unharmed from +under the horses, perfectly satisfied that the whole rush was a passing +property in the air, which may have left something to eat behind it. +They look upon old shoes, wrecks of kettles and saucepans, and fragments +of bonnets, as a kind of meteoric discharge, for fowls to peck at. +Peg-tops and hoops they account, I think, as a sort of hail; +shuttlecocks, as rain, or dew. Gaslight comes quite as natural to them +as any other light; and I have more than a suspicion that, in the minds +of the two lords, the early public-house at the corner has superseded +the sun. + + +DRINKING SONG +[Sidenote: _J.K. Stephen_] + + There are people, I know, to be found, + Who say and apparently think + That sorrow and care may be drowned + By a timely consumption of drink. + + Does not man, these enthusiasts ask, + Most nearly approach the divine + When engaged in the soul-stirring task + Of filling his body with wine? + + Have not beggars been frequently known, + When satisfied, soaked and replete, + To imagine their bench was a throne + And the civilised world at their feet? + + Lord Byron has finely described + The remarkably soothing effect + Of liquor, profusely imbibed, + On a soul that is shattered and wrecked. + + In short, if your body or mind + Or your soul or your purse come to grief, + You need only get drunk, and you'll find, + Complete and immediate relief. + + For myself, I have managed to do + Without having recourse to this plan, + So I can't write a poem for you, + And you'd better get some one who can. + + +LETTERS OF T.E. BROWN +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +Thank you very much for the satire. Satire is an undoubted branch of +poetry; but I do not affect it much. There is a strong, healthy, noble +satire, the _saeva indignatio_of the Latin classics. But, short of that, +satire seems only an element of discontent and unhappiness. + +I know the "pip," the "black pigs" too, know them well; but they are +quite beneath contempt; and nothing on earth would induce me to cross +the bright blue of my serenity. I have a great notion of being the +master of my own happiness, and not suffering it to be contingent on the +manners and conduct of other people. + +If a man slights me, he does me no harm; but if his conduct is +detrimental to the general good, if he is unjust, a villain in high +place, a seducer, a poison, a snare to the innocent, then have at him! +though, _constitutionally_ I had rather leave him alone. + +The sum of happiness in the world is not too large. I would like, if +possible, to increase it by the modest contribution of my own store. If +so, I must guard it from all disturbance; and poetry enables me to do +this, gives me a thousand springs of joy, in none of which there is one +drop of bitterness--and thank God for that! + +We are here in the I. of Wight, busy comparing it with the I. of Man, +of course. It is really a beautiful island, not merely as regards +richness of vegetation, an ornament that just now is not available, but +also for its configuration. The "lay of the land," the attitude, and +gesture of the lines are admirable. The coast is dismally inferior to +ours; glens are not to be seen, and streams are puny, but very clean. On +the whole we give the preference to Mona, and that upon purely aesthetic, +not patriotic, grounds. + +I hope you are all well and thriving. Accept my best wishes for the New +Year. Your satire discloses perhaps a slight biliary secretion--all +satire, I fear, is bile. I hope I may impute it to Christmas festivities +rather than to any permanent disorder! + +P.S.--I return the verses, as I think you would like to keep them.... + + * * * * * + +I did very well in the Isle of Man; had two good solitary walks, drank +deep draughts of--don't know how to describe it--that social brewage +which I get nowhere else. Very likely other people get it in their own +habitats. But it really does seem to me as if the whole island was +quivering and trembling all over with _stories_--they are like leaves on +a tree. The people are always telling them to one another, and any +morning or evening you hear, whether you like it or not, innumerable +anecdotes, sayings, tragedies, comedies--I wonder whether they lie +fearfully. They are a marvellously _narrational_ community. And you've +not been there a day before all this closes round you with a quiet +familiarity of "use and custom" which is most fascinating. Nothing else +in the universe seems of any consequence. + + And warly cares, and warly men, + May a' gae tapsalteerie, O! + +A week more and I should have become reabsorbed into this medium past +recovery and past recognition.... + +I have been musing a good deal over my "Dooiney-molla"[1]: he is now +taking shape, and looms rather large. I believe you will like him, and +his fiery little groom. These good souls do well to visit my dreams: +they are such a comfort; and, do you know, they positively do "go on" in +my dreams. Here are two lines which came tripping at the window of my +slumbers last night: + + 1. "When the sun was jus' puttin' on his shoes" (morning), + +for which I instantly seemed to discover a parallel--to wit: + + "Sthreelin' oft his golden stockings" (the sun again, evening). + + 2. "Jus' rags tore off the Divil's ould shirt" (=witches' charms, or + spells). + +There will be a very good witch in this poem, I promise you: look out! +----[2] are sounding me about "The Doctor";... They would try to make it +a popular book. The others tried to make it a drawing-room book, with +the result that the few purchasers thereof hid it somewhere behind their +book-shelves, and even there trembled for the morals of the +housemaids.... + + * * * * * + +We went into the church, and sat at a long service. The curate preached +on Judas Iscariot; the vicar conducted a service in the churchyard. +"Judas did this, Judas thought that"; then from the churchyard, in +stentorian chorus, "Crown Him! crown Him! crown Him! crown Him Lord of +all." Thus, you see, there was an element of the comic; but how, how sad +it was to me, how incomprehensible! Verily, I am left behind; I can't, +after all these years, adjust myself to the dimensions of such a change. +The people behaved better than they used to do in our time; but the +numbers! the systematisation! the total absence of the native +population! the show atmosphere! the "Walk up, gentlemen" style of +thing! Over all this Vanity Fair the dear old bells rang out precisely +as of old.... + + * * * * * + +Yesterday, at the Kerroo-Kiel, I met a delightfully bright and witty +man. He soon got to know who I was, and we had the most glorious talk. +The mischief of it is that these worthies are only too glad to get into +a _coosh_ with you, and they would talk all day, leaving a spade, or +forsaking plough and horses to lean over a hedge, leaning on something +at any rate, and talking away. Their talk is bright, aimless, rambling, +not without dives into the depths, and pokes into your personality, +above all, _engouement_ the most absolute, and desire of +intercommunication the most insatiable. And you are up on the +mountain-side at the farther limit of plough-range, and the wind +whistles just the right sort of accompaniment to such talk. + +I think I must have a sail here. But, do you know? the Manx seamen and +fishermen tend to become self-conscious: the "strangers" are spoiling +them. Not so the farmer; of course no one can make him understand that +the visitors do him any good by raising the prices of his produce, so he +cares very little about them, and in no way guides himself according to +them or their fashions. So far as the outer world comes to him, it is by +the channel of the newspapers. He has all the boundless curiosity, the +thirst for knowledge miscellaneous, pulpy, and piquant, which +characterise those that dwell remote. When he gets hold of you he flies +at you, hugs you, gets every blessed thing he can out of you. +"Favourable specimen," you will say. That is true; but, as regards the +independence and primitive state of mind, what I say applies to almost +all. You see, you must get down beneath the gentleman or would-be +gentleman-farmer, down to the man who never conceived the idea of +ruffling it with gentlefolk. Also, you must not go down to the mere +labourer. But they are desperate gossips--gossips not so much in matters +local and insular, as in matters universal. The gossiping tone does +proceed into the universal, does it not? The hilarity with which they +will range the far horizons of thought is so childlike (you know how +children are about that); a chatter that sparkles on the surface like +their own _divers_, and then, with an "Aw bless me sowl," or "Aye, man, +aye," down into the deepest soundings of the spirit.... + + * * * * * + +A charming Hibernian called on me the other day. Portentous! alarming! +He had been sent from Douglas by some evil-disposed friends of mine +there, to consult me as the supreme authority on matters Manx. Now of +this language I am, if not wholly, yet at least grammatically ignorant. +He was a tall, stalwart fellow; black-bearded, not handsome, but with a +tremendously Irish face, eyes of fire, nose of peremptory interrogation. +Flourishing a wretched grammar in one hand, he proceeded rapidly to +demonstrate its ineptness, and sternly to demand my explanation. As my +weak-kneedness grew more painfully evident-- + + So scented the grim feature, and upturned + His nostril wide into the murky air, + Sagacious of his quarry-- + +he almost shouted with exultation. All the Manx scholars had completely +failed--here was another. "Glory be to God! I'll smite him hip and +thigh." He was a splendid Irishman, and, of course, kind and generous. +He didn't spare me, _destructed_ me utterly; but speedily constructed me +upon new lines, and told me a lot about Celtic difficulties and how to +overcome them. He spoke Irish like a bird, and, after about +three-quarters of an hour, he rushed forth to catch the train, hairy, +immense, with some wild wirrasthru of farewell. Imagine a very learned +and linguistic Mulligan of Ballymulligan!... + + * * * * * + +O Wallaston, the delight of this leisure! I read, I write, I play. Good +gracious! I shouldn't wonder if my music came to something yet. I have +actually gone back to singing, a vice of my youth. Don't mention it at +Clifton! I always think the sea the great challenger and promoter of +song. Even the mountain is not the same thing. There may always be some +d----d fool or another behind a rock. But the sea is open, and you can +tell when you are alone, and the dear old chap is so confidential: I +will trust him with my secret. + +How about Devon! was it good? Did you all bathe and "rux" yourselves +well about in the brine? I have not done much in that way: the storms +have been so furious--unkind of them, eh? Well, I fancy it is like the +boisterous welcome of some great dog--at least I take it in that sense. +And the old boy is so strong, and he doesn't know, he thinks I am what I +used to be. But I'm not: and every now and then he remembers that, and +creeps to my feet so fawningly.... + + +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +At a great prayer-meeting requests were being made that divers souls, +supposed to be in evil case, should be interceded for. One arose and +asked the prayers of the meeting for a little town on the east coast of +Scotland, which was "wholly given to idolatry." Such was the expression. +A little city, with many schools, also the seat of a University. Having +thus mysteriously indicated the place, the excellent individual plainly +felt that no mortal could possibly guess what place he meant; and, +putting his hand over his mouth, he said to his friends on the platform, +in a hoarse whisper distinctly heard over the entire hall, "St. +Andrews!" Isn't that consummate? Isn't it Scotland?... + + +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +Walters did an extremely kind thing the other day. Two old things going +about with an _entertainment_ (!) of Recitations (really old, for I +heard them "at it" thirty-five years ago), took a letter with them from +me to Walters. It was the merest chance, I thought, but I suggested +that just possibly Walters might give them an evening at the College. +By Jove! sir, he did give them an evening, and gave them a substantial +fee, and filled their poor trembling cup of Auld lang syne with joy and +thanksgiving, and dismissed them with honour, almost reeling with the +intoxication of so unwonted a success, the boys giving them a mighty +three-times-three which shook the welkin, and stirred amazingly the +pulsation of two hearts that have long desisted from the exercise of +hope.... + + +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +I heard one or two good stories at Braddan when I preached there (last +Sunday). One was of a child at the Sunday-school. "What ought you to do +on Sunday?" "Go to church." "What ought you to do next?" "Go to chapel." +Was it not precisely the story for a vicar to tell? You feel the +atmosphere--what?... + + +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +We sat down in some cottages. Some of the people were magnificent, +throwing themselves upon you with such vigour of accent, such warmth and +fun, and endless receptivity, bright, well pulled together, sonorous, +that I nearly staggered under it--not chaff--good heavens! no--but +would have been chaff, only it wasn't, for they can't chaff. + +Kitty Kermode, _alias_ Kinvig, was the best. She said a very sweet and +profound thing (but I can't phrase it as I ought) about the value of +friendship, as compared with that of love. A little happy creature of +some seventeen giggled in a dark corner, but I let her giggle; the old +woman pierced me through and through. Oh _fortunati_--Oh indeed! And +these dear things seemed to know that their lot was a happy one. _Quod +faustum!_ Unutterably precious to me is the woman, the native of the +hills, almost my own age, or a little younger, whose spirit is set upon +the finest springs, and her sympathies have an almost masculine depth, +and a length of reflection that wins your confidence and stays your +sinking heart. + +The lady can't do it. This class, of what I suppose you would call +peasant women (I won't have the word), seems made for the purpose of +rectifying everything, and redressing the balance, inspiring us with +that awe which the immediate presence of absolute womanhood creates in +us. The plain, practical woman, with the outspoken throat and the +eternal eyes. Oh, mince me, madam, mince me your pretty mincings! +Deliberate your dainty reticences! Balbutient loveliness, avaunt! Here +is a woman that talks like a bugle, and, in everything, sees God. + + +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +... The wreck of the _Drummond Castle_ is much in my mind. What lovely +creatures those French are! The women and children, carrying their poor +drowned sisters! that little baby in its coffin decked with roses! Don't +you yearn towards those dear souls? What are Agincourt and Waterloo in +the presence of such sweetness? Well, I love them anyway, and shall +brood over them and pray for them while I live.... + + +[Sidenote: _T.E. Brown_] + +I am generally rather a happy "sort" of man, but your letter makes me +very happy. How kind you are! Up in the morning betimes to catch people +still in their beds warm with a generous enthusiasm, to surprise their +sympathies before they had "faded into the light of common day," and to +collect all their "loving" words for me. That was a good and faithful +act; and I am deeply grateful. + +Yes, the man was right. I do love the poor wastrels, and you are right, +I have it from my father. He had a way of taking for granted, not only +the innate virtue of these outcasts, but their unquestioned +respectability. He, at least, never questioned it. The effect was +twofold. + +Some of the "weak brethren" felt uncomfortable at being met on those +terms of equality. My father might have been practising on them the most +dreadful irony; and they were "that shy" and confused. But it was not +irony, not a bit of it; just a sense of respect, fine consideration for +the poor "sowls," well--respect, that's it, respect for all human +beings; _his_ respect made _them_ respectable. Wasn't it grand? To +others my father was a perfect Port-y-shee.[3] To be in the same room +with him was enough. To be conscious that he was there, that he didn't +fight strange of them, that he never dreamt of "scowlin'" them, that +they were treated as gentlemen. Oh the comfort, the gerjugh,[4] the +interval of repose! Extraordinary, though, was it not? To think of a +_Pazon_ respecting men's vices even; not as vices, God forbid! but as +parts of _them_, very likely all but inseparable from them; at any rate, +_theirs_. Pitying with an eternal pity, but not exposing, not rebuking. +My father would have considered he was "taking a liberty" if he had +confronted the sinner with his sin. Doubtless he carried this too far. +But don't suppose for a moment that the "weak brethren" thought he was +conniving at their weakness. Not they--they saw the delicacy of his +conduct. You don't think, do you, that these poor souls are incapable of +appreciating _delicacy_? God only knows how far down into their depths +of misery and degradation the sweetness of that delicacy descends. It +haunts the drunkard's dreams, and breathes a breath of purity into the +bosom of the abandoned. That is the power of a noble innocence, a +_respect_ for our fellow creatures--glib phrases, but how little +understood and acted on! With my father it was quite natural.... He was +a hot hater, though, I can tell you. He hated hypocrisy, he hated lying, +and he hated presumption and pretentiousness. He loved sincerity, truth, +and modesty. It seemed as if he felt sure that, with these virtues, the +others could not fail to be present. Was he far wrong? Yet how many +people would have thought him stern! + +One dear old cousin of his comes to my mind. We called him U.T., that is +Uncle Tom. He was not our uncle--we never had one--but the uncle of our +predecessors at Kirk Braddan. And almost every Sunday evening he spent +at the Vicarage--poor old thing! He was quite silent. One thing, though, +he would say, as "regglar as clockwork." My mother occasionally +apologised for the evening being so exclusively musical (we were great +singers). Whenever she did so, the reply was prompt from U.T.: "I'm +passionately fond of music." This, to us children, was highly ludicrous. +Indeed, my mother was amused--she had no Manx blood in her--but my +father accepted U.T.'s assurance with the utmost confidence. His +chivalrous nature, more deeply tinged than hers with Celtic tenderness, +or the very finest kind of Celtic make-believe (_Anglice_--humbug; oh +those English!), had no difficulty in accepting U.T.'s "passionately." +_Passion_ in U.T.! Well, to us it was a splendid joke. I sometimes +wonder whether the vicar, too, at times, had lucid intervals of the +bare, naked reality. He had a fine sense of humour, and he would have +considered it a baseness to laugh at the poor thing, with its pretence +of passion, trying to screen its forlornness. What U.T. felt was not the +passion for music, but just the soothing, comforting sense of being at +home with us, of being accepted as one of ourselves, of not being +"scoulded," of indisputable respectability, of being thought capable of +"passion," even so ethereal a passion as that of music. How blessed +those hours must have been to U.T.! He sometimes missed them. But it +never was my father's fault. Was it U.T.'s? Well, we children had no +idea that he drank. But now, of course, I know that when U.T. did not +appear on a Sunday, he must have been "hard at it" on Saturday; and into +the kingdom of heaven he must have taken the Sundays, not the Saturdays. + +Forgive all this. But I have been so much touched with your taking up my +reference to the dear old Vicar of Braddan that I could not help +extending the portrait a little. + +And for the backsliders, the "weak brethren, the outcasts--aw! let's +feel for the lek, and 'keep a houl' o' their ban.'" + +Do write again. You will do me so much good. + + +VISIONS +[Sidenote: _Calverley_] + + In lone Glenartney's thickets lies crouched the lordly stag, + The dreaming terrier's tail forgets its customary wag; + And plodding ploughman's weary steps insensibly grow quicker, + As broadening casements light them on toward home, or home-brewed liquor. + + It is, in brief, the evening--that pure and pleasant time + When stars break into splendour, and poets into rhyme; + When in the glass of Memory the forms of loved ones shine-- + And when, of course, Miss Goodchild's is prominent in mine. + + Miss Goodchild!--Julia Goodchild!--how graciously you smiled + Upon my childish passion once, yourself a fair-haired child: + When I was (no doubt) profiting by Dr. Crabb's instruction, + And sent those streaky lollipops home for your fairy suction! + + "She wore" her natural "roses, the night when first we met"-- + Her golden hair was gleaming 'neath the coercive net: + "Her brow was like the snawdrift," her step was like Queen Mab's, + And gone was instantly the heart of every boy at Crabb's. + + The parlour boarder _chasseed_ tow'rds her on graceful limb; + The onyx deck'd his bosom--but her smiles were not for him: + With _me_ she danced--till drowsily her eyes "began to blink," + And _I_ brought raisin wine, and said, "Drink, pretty creature, + drink!" + + And evermore, when winter comes in his garb of snows, + And the returning schoolboy is told how fast he grows; + Shall I--with that soft hand in mine--enact ideal Lancers, + And dream I hear demure remarks, and make impassioned answers:-- + + I know that never, never may her love for me return-- + At night I muse upon the fact with undisguised concern-- + But ever shall I bless that day: I don't bless as a rule, + The days I spent at "Dr. Crabb's Preparatory School." + + And yet we two _may_ meet again--(be still, my throbbing heart!)-- + Now rolling years have weaned us from jam and raspberry-tart. + One night I saw a vision--'twas when musk-roses bloom, + I stood--_we_ stood--upon a rug, in a sumptuous dining-room: + + One hand clasped hers--one easily reposed upon my hip-- + And "Bless ye!" burst abruptly from Mr. Goodchild's lip: + I raised my brimming eye, and saw in hers an answering gleam-- + My heart beat wildly--and I woke, and lo! it was a dream. + + +"BOSWELL AND JOHNSON" +[Sidenote: _Macaulay_] + +The Life of Johnson is assuredly a great, a very great work. Homer is +not more decidedly the first of heroic poets, Shakespeare is not more +decidedly the first of dramatists, Demosthenes is not more decidedly the +first of orators, than Boswell is the first of biographers. He has no +second. He has distanced all his competitors so decidedly that it is not +worth while to place them. Eclipse is first, and the rest nowhere. + +We are not sure that there is in the whole history of the human +intellect so strange a phenomenon as this book. Many of the greatest men +that ever lived have written biography. Boswell was one of the smallest +men that ever lived, and he has beaten them all. He was, if we are to +give any credit to his own account or to the united testimony of all who +knew him, a man of the meanest and feeblest intellect. Johnson described +him as a fellow who had missed his only chance of immortality by not +having been alive when "The Dunciad" was written. Beauclerk used his +name as a proverbial expression for a bore. He was the laughing-stock of +the whole of that brilliant society which has owed to him the greater +part of its fame. He was always laying himself at the feet of some +eminent man, and begging to be spit upon and trampled upon. He was +always earning some ridiculous nickname, and then "binding it as a +crown unto him," not merely in metaphor, but literally. He exhibited +himself at the Shakespeare Jubilee, to all the crowd which filled +Stratford-on-Avon, with a placard round his hat bearing the inscription +of "Corsican Boswell." In his Tour, he proclaimed to all the world that +at Edinburgh he was known by the appellation of Paoli Boswell. Servile +and impertinent, shallow and pedantic, a bigot and a sot, bloated with +family pride, and eternally blustering about the dignity of a born +gentleman, yet stooping to be a talebearer, an eavesdropper, a common +butt in the taverns of London; so curious to know everybody who was +talked about that, Tory and High Churchman as he was, he manoeuvred, we +have been told, for an introduction to Tom Paine; so vain of the most +childish distinctions that, when he had been to Court, he drove to the +office where his book was printing without changing his clothes, and +summoned all the printer's devils to admire his new ruffles and +sword,--such was this man, and such he was content and proud to be. +Everything which another man would have hidden, everything the +publication of which would have made another man hang himself, was +matter of gay and clamorous exultation to his weak and diseased mind. +What silly things he said, what bitter retorts he provoked, how at one +place he was troubled with evil presentiments which came to nothing, how +at another place, on waking from a drunken doze, he read the +prayer-book and took a hair of the dog that had bitten him, how he went +to see men hanged and came away maudlin, how he added five hundred +pounds to the fortune of one of his babies because she was not scared at +Johnson's ugly face, how he was frightened out of his wits at sea, and +how the sailors quieted him as they would have quieted a child, how +tipsy he was at Lady Cork's one evening and how much his merriment +annoyed the ladies, how impertinent he was to the Duchess of Argyle and +with what stately contempt she put down his impertinence, how Colonel +Macleod sneered to his face at his impudent obtrusiveness, how his +father and the very wife of his bosom laughed and fretted at his +fooleries--all these things he proclaimed to all the world, as if they +had been subjects for pride and ostentatious rejoicings. All the +caprices of his temper, all the illusions of his vanity, all his +hypochondriac whimsies, all his castles in the air, he displayed with a +cool self-complacency, a perfect unconsciousness that he was making a +fool of himself, to which it is impossible to find a parallel in the +whole history of mankind. He has used many people ill; but assuredly he +has used nobody so ill as himself. + +That such a man should have written one of the best books in the world +is strange enough. But this is not all. Many persons who have conducted +themselves foolishly in active life, and whose conversation has +indicated no superior powers of mind, have left us valuable works. +Goldsmith was very justly described by one of his contemporaries as an +inspired idiot, and by another as a being + + "Who wrote like an angel, and talked like poor Poll." + +La Fontaine was in society a mere simpleton. His blunders would not come +in amiss among the stories of Hierocles. But these men attained literary +eminence in spite of their weaknesses. Boswell attained it by reason of +his weaknesses. If he had not been a great fool, he would never have +been a great writer. Without all the qualities which made him the jest +and the torment of those among whom he lived, without the officiousness, +the inquisitiveness, the effrontery, the toad-eating, the insensibility +to all reproof, he never could have produced so excellent a book. He was +a slave, proud of his servitude, a Paul Pry, convinced that his own +curiosity and garrulity were virtues, an unsafe companion who never +scrupled to repay the most liberal hospitality by the basest violation +of confidence, a man without delicacy, without shame, without sense +enough to know when he was hurting the feelings of others, or when he +was exposing himself to derision; and because he was all this, he has, +in an important department of literature, immeasurably surpassed such +writers as Tacitus, Clarendon, Alfieri, and his own idol Johnson. + +Of the talents which ordinarily raise men to eminence as writers +Boswell had absolutely none. There is not in all his books a single +remark of his own on literature, politics, religion, or society which is +not either commonplace or absurd. His dissertations on hereditary +gentility, on the slave-trade, and on the entailing of landed estates, +may serve as examples. To say that these passages are sophistical would +be to pay them an extravagant compliment. They have no pretence to +argument, or even to meaning. He has reported innumerable observations +made by himself in the course of conversation. Of those observations we +do not remember one which is above the intellectual capacity of a boy of +fifteen. He has printed many of his own letters, and in these letters he +is always ranting or twaddling. Logic, eloquence, wit, taste, all those +things which are generally considered as making a book valuable, were +utterly wanting to him. He had, indeed, a quick observation and a +retentive memory. These qualities, if he had been a man of sense and +virtue, would scarcely of themselves have sufficed to make him +conspicuous; but, because he was a dunce, a parasite, and a coxcomb, +they have made him immortal. + +Johnson grown old, Johnson in the fulness of his fame and in the +enjoyment of a competent fortune, is better known to us than any other +man in history. Everything about him, his coat, his wig, his figure, his +face, his scrofula, his St. Vitus's dance, his rolling walk, his +blinking eye, the outward signs which too clearly marked his approbation +of his dinner, his insatiable appetite for fish-sauce and veal-pie with +plums, his inextinguishable thirst for tea, his trick of touching the +posts as he walked, his mysterious practice of treasuring up scraps of +orange-peel, his morning slumbers, his midnight disputations, his +contortions, his mutterings, his gruntings, his puffings, his vigorous, +acute, and ready eloquence, his sarcastic wit, his vehemence, his +insolence, his fits of tempestuous rage, his queer inmates, old Mr. +Levett and blind Mrs. Williams, the cat Hodge and the negro Frank, all +are as familiar to us as the objects by which we have been surrounded +from childhood.... + +From nature, he had received an uncouth figure, a diseased constitution, +and an irritable temper. The manner in which the earlier years of his +manhood had been passed had given to his demeanour, and even to his +moral character, some peculiarities appalling to the civilised beings +who were the companions of his old age. The perverse irregularity of his +hours, the slovenliness of his person, his fits of strenuous exertion, +interrupted by long intervals of sluggishness, his strange abstinence, +and his equally strange voracity, his active benevolence contrasted with +the constant rudeness and the occasional ferocity of his manners in +society, made him, in the opinion of those with whom he lived during the +last twenty years of his life, a complete original. An original he was, +undoubtedly, in some respects. But if we possessed full information +concerning those who shared his early hardships, we should probably find +that what we call his singularities of manner were, for the most part, +failings which he had in common with the class to which he belonged. He +ate at Streatham Park as he had been used to eat behind the screen at +St. John's Gate, when he was ashamed to show his ragged clothes. He ate +as it was natural that a man should eat who, during a great part of his +life, had passed the morning in doubt whether he should have food for +the afternoon. The habits of his early life had accustomed him to bear +privation with fortitude, but not to taste pleasure with moderation. He +could fast; but, when he did not fast, he tore his dinner like a +famished wolf, with the veins swelling on his forehead and the +perspiration running down his cheeks. He scarcely ever took wine; but, +when he drank it, he drank it greedily and in large tumblers. These +were, in fact, mitigated symptoms of that same moral disease which raged +with such deadly malignity in his friends Savage and Boyse. The +roughness and violence which he showed in society were to be expected +from a man whose temper, not naturally gentle, had been long tried by +the bitterest calamities, by the want of meat, of fire, and of clothes, +by the importunity of creditors, by the insolence of booksellers, by the +derision of fools, by the insincerity of patrons, by that bread which +is the bitterest of all food, by those stairs which are the most +toilsome of all paths, by that deferred hope which makes the heart sick. +Through all these things the ill-dressed, coarse, ungainly pedant had +struggled manfully up to eminence and command. It was natural that, in +the exercise of his power, he should be _eo immitior, quia toleraverat_; +that, though his heart was undoubtedly generous and humane, his +demeanour in society should be harsh and despotic. For severe distress +he had sympathy, and not only sympathy, but munificent relief; but for +the suffering which a harsh world inflicts upon a delicate mind he had +no pity, for it was a kind of suffering which he could scarcely +conceive. He would carry home on his shoulders a sick and starving girl +from the streets. He turned his house into a place of refuge for a crowd +of wretched old creatures who could find no other asylum; nor could all +their peevishness and ingratitude weary out his benevolence. But the +pangs of wounded vanity seemed to him ridiculous; and he scarcely felt +sufficient compassion even for the pangs of wounded affection. He had +seen and felt so much of sharp misery that he was not affected by paltry +vexations; and he seemed to think that everybody ought to be as much +hardened to those vexations as himself. He was angry with Boswell for +complaining of a headache, with Mrs. Thrale for grumbling about the dust +on the road, or the smell of the kitchen. These were, in his phrase, +"foppish lamentations," which people ought to be ashamed to utter in a +world so full of sin and sorrow. Goldsmith crying because _The +Good-natured Man_ had failed, inspired him with no pity. Though his own +health was not good, he detested and despised valetudinarians. Pecuniary +losses, unless they reduced the loser absolutely to beggary, moved him +very little. People whose hearts had been softened by prosperity might +weep, he said, for such events; but all that could be expected of a +plain man was not to laugh. He was not much moved even by the spectacle +of Lady Tavistock dying of a broken heart for the loss of her lord. Such +grief he considered as a luxury reserved for the idle and the wealthy. A +washerwoman, left a widow with nine small children, would not have +sobbed herself to death. + +A person who troubled himself so little about small or sentimental +grievances was not likely to be very attentive to the feelings of others +in the ordinary intercourse of society. He could not understand how a +sarcasm or a reprimand could make any man really unhappy. "My dear +doctor," said he to Goldsmith, "what harm does it do to a man to call +him Holofernes?" "Pooh, ma'am," he exclaimed to Mrs. Carter, "who is the +worse for being talked of uncharitably?" Politeness has been well +defined as benevolence in small things. Johnson was impolite, not +because he wanted benevolence, but because small things appeared +smaller to him than to people who had never known what it was to live +for fourpence halfpenny a day.... + +Many of his sentiments on religious subjects are worthy of a liberal and +enlarged mind. He could discern clearly enough the folly and meanness of +all bigotry except his own. When he spoke of the scruples of the +Puritans, he spoke like a person who had really obtained an insight into +the divine philosophy of the New Testament, and who considered +Christianity as a noble scheme of government, tending to promote the +happiness and to elevate the moral nature of man. The horror which the +sectaries felt for cards, Christmas ale, plum-porridge, mince-pies, and +dancing bears excited his contempt. To the arguments urged by some very +worthy people against showy dress he replied with admirable sense and +spirit, "Let us not be found, when our Master calls us, stripping the +lace off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls and +tongues. Alas! sir, a man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat will +not find his way thither the sooner in a grey one." Yet he was himself +under the tyranny of scruples as unreasonable as those of Hudibras or +Ralpho, and carried his zeal for ceremonies and for ecclesiastical +dignities to lengths altogether inconsistent with reason or with +Christian charity. He has gravely noted down in his diary that he once +committed the sin of drinking coffee on Good Friday. In Scotland, he +thought it was his duty to pass several months without joining in +public worship, solely because the ministers of the kirk had not been +ordained by bishops. His mode of estimating the piety of his neighbours +was somewhat singular. "Campbell," said he, "is a good man, a pious man. +I am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years, +but he never passes a church without pulling off his hat: this shows he +has good principles." Spain and Sicily must surely contain many pious +robbers and well-principled assassins. Johnson could easily see that a +Roundhead who named all his children after Solomon's singers, and talked +in the House of Commons about seeking the Lord, might be an unprincipled +villain whose religious mummeries only aggravated his guilt; but a man +who took off his hat when he passed a church episcopally consecrated +must be a good man, a pious man, a man of good principles. Johnson could +easily see that those persons who looked on a dance or a laced waistcoat +as sinful deemed most ignobly of the attributes of God and of the ends +of revelation; but with what a storm of invective he would have +overwhelmed any man who had blamed him for celebrating the redemption of +mankind with sugarless tea and butterless buns!... + +Johnson, as Mr. Burke most justly observed, appears far greater in +Boswell's books than in his own. His conversation appears to have been +quite equal to his writings in matter, and far superior to them in +manner. When he talked, he clothed his wit and his sense in forcible +and natural expressions. As soon as he took his pen in his hand to write +for the public, his style became systematically vicious. All his books +are written in a learned language; in a language which nobody hears from +his mother or his nurse; in a language in which nobody ever quarrels, or +drives bargains, or makes love; in a language in which nobody ever +thinks. It is clear that Johnson himself did not think in the dialect in +which he wrote. The expressions which came first to his tongue were +simple, energetic, and picturesque. When he wrote for publication he did +his sentences out of English into Johnsonese. His letters from the +Hebrides to Mrs. Thrale are the original of that work of which the +"Journey to the Hebrides" is the translation; and it is amusing to +compare the two versions. "When we were taken upstairs," says he in one +of his letters, "a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed on which one of +us was to lie." This incident is recorded in the Journal as follows: +"Out of one of the beds on which we were to repose started up, at our +entrance, a man black as a Cyclops from the forge." Sometimes Johnson +translated aloud. "_The Rehearsal_" he said, very unjustly, "has not wit +enough to keep it sweet"; then, after a pause, "it has not vitality +enough to preserve it from putrefaction." + +Mannerism is pardonable, and is sometimes even agreeable, when the +manner, though vicious, is natural. Few readers, for example, would be +willing to part with the mannerism of Milton or of Burke. But a +mannerism which does not sit easy on the mannerist, which has been +adopted on principle, and which can be sustained only by constant +effort, is always offensive. And such is the mannerism of Johnson. + +The characteristic faults of his style are so familiar to all our +readers, and have been so often burlesqued, that it is almost +superfluous to point them out. It is well known that he made less use +than any other eminent writer of those strong, plain words, Anglo-Saxon +or Norman-French, of which the roots lie in the inmost depths of our +language; and that he felt a vicious partiality for terms which, long +after our own speech had been fixed, were borrowed from the Greek and +Latin, and which, therefore, even when lawfully naturalised, must be +considered as born aliens, not entitled to rank with the King's English. +His constant practice of padding out a sentence with useless epithets, +till it became as stiff as the bust of an exquisite, his antithetical +forms of expression, constantly employed even where there is no +opposition in the ideas expressed, his big words wasted on little +things, his hard inversions, so widely different from those graceful and +easy inversions which give variety, spirit, and sweetness to the +expression of our great old writers--all these peculiarities have been +imitated by his admirers and parodied by his assailants till the public +has become sick of the subject. + +Goldsmith said to him, very wittily and very justly, "If you were to +write a fable about little fishes, doctor, you would make the little +fishes talk like whales." No man surely ever had so little talent for +personation as Johnson. Whether he wrote in the character of a +disappointed legacy-hunter or an empty town fop, of a crazy virtuoso or +a flippant coquette, he wrote in the same pompous and unbending style. +His speech, like Sir Piercy Shafton's Euphuistic eloquence, bewrayed him +under every disguise. Euphelia and Rhodoclea talk as finely as Imlac the +poet or Seged, Emperor of Ethiopia. The gay Cornelia describes her +reception at the country-house of her relations in such terms as these: +"I was surprised, after the civilities of my first reception, to find, +instead of the leisure and tranquillity which a rural life always +promises, and, if well conducted, might always afford, a confused +wilderness of care, and a tumultuous hurry of diligence, by which every +face was clouded, and every motion agitated." The gentle Tranquilla +informs us that she "had not passed the earlier part of life without the +flattery of courtship and the joys of triumph; but had danced the round +of gaiety amidst the murmurs of envy and the congratulations of +applause, had been attended from pleasure to pleasure by the great, the +sprightly, and the vain, and had seen her regard solicited by the +obsequiousness of gallantry, the gaiety of wit, and the timidity of +love." Surely Sir John Falstaff himself did not wear his petticoats with +a worse grace. The reader may well cry out, with honest Sir Hugh Evans, +"I like not when a 'oman has a great peard: I spy a great peard under +her muffler." + +We had something more to say; but our article is already too long, and +we must close it. We would fain part in good-humour from the hero, from +the biographer, and even from the editor, who, ill as he has performed +his task, has at least this claim to our gratitude, that he has induced +us to read Boswell's book again. As we close it, the club-room is before +us, and the table on which stands the omelet for Nugent and the lemons +for Johnson. There are assembled those heads which live for ever on the +canvas of Reynolds. There are the spectacles of Burke and the tall, thin +form of Langton; the courtly sneer of Beauclerk and the beaming smile of +Garrick; Gibbon tapping his snuff-box and Sir Joshua with his trumpet in +his ear. In the foreground is that strange figure which is as familiar +to us as the figures of those among whom we have been brought up--the +gigantic body, the huge, massy face, seamed with the scars of disease, +the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the grey wig with the +scorched foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the +quick. We see the eyes and mouth moving with convulsive twitches; we see +the heavy form rolling; we hear it puffing; and then comes the "Why, +sir!" and the "What then, sir?" and the "No, sir!" and the "You don't +see your way through the question, sir!" + +What a singular destiny has been that of this remarkable man! To be +regarded in his own age as a classic, and in ours as a companion! To +receive from his contemporaries that full homage which men of genius +have in general received only from posterity! To be more intimately +known to posterity than other men are known to their contemporaries! +That kind of fame which is commonly the most transient is, in his case, +the most durable. The reputation of those writings which he probably +expected to be immortal is every day fading, while those peculiarities +of manner and that careless table-talk the memory of which, he probably +thought, would die with him, are likely to be remembered as long as the +English language is spoken in any quarter of the globe. + + +THE SUPPER +[Sidenote: _Sterne_] + +A shoe coming loose from the fore-foot of the thill-horse, at the +beginning of the ascent of Mount Taurira, the postillion dismounted, +twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket. As the ascent was of +five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of +having the shoe fastened on again as well as we could; but the +postillion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the chaise box +being of no great use without them, I submitted to go on. + +He had not mounted half a mile higher when, coming to a flinty piece of +road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off his other +fore-foot; I then got out of the chaise in good earnest, and, seeing a +house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to +do, I prevailed upon the postillion to turn up to it. The look of the +house, and of everything about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me +to the disaster. It was a little farm-house, surrounded with about +twenty acres of vineyard, about as much corn, and close to the house, on +one side, was a _potagerie_ of an acre and a half, full of everything +which could make plenty in a French peasant's house; and, on the other +side, was a little wood, which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was +about eight in the evening when I got to the house, so I left the +postillion to manage his point as he could; and, for mine, I walked +directly into the house. + +The family consisted of an old grey-bearded man and his wife, with five +or six sons and sons-in-law, and their several wives, and a joyous +genealogy out of them. + +They were all sitting down together to their lentil-soup, a large +wheaten loaf was in the middle of the table, and a flagon of wine at +each end of it promised joy through the stages of the repast; 'twas a +feast of love. + +The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would +have me sit down at the table; my heart was set down the moment I +entered the room; so I sat down at once, like a son of the family; and, +to invest myself in the character as speedily as I could, I instantly +borrowed the old man's knife, and, taking up the loaf, cut myself a +hearty luncheon; and, as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not +only of an honest welcome, but of a welcome mixed with thanks that I had +not seemed to doubt it. + +Was it this? or tell me, Nature, what else it was that made this morsel +so sweet; and to what magic I owe it, that the draught I took of their +flagon was so delicious with it, that they remain upon my palate to this +hour. + +If the supper was to my taste, the grace which followed it was much more +so. + + +THE GRACE +[Sidenote: _Sterne_] + +When supper was over the old man gave a knock upon the table with the +haft of his knife, to bid them prepare for the dance. The moment the +signal was given, the women and girls ran off together into a back +apartment to tie up their hair, and the young men to the door to wash +their faces and change their _sabots_; and in three minutes every soul +was ready upon a little esplanade before the house to begin. The old man +and his wife came out last, and, placing me betwixt them, sat down upon +a sofa of turf by the door. + +The old man had, some fifty years ago, been no mean performer upon the +_vielle_; and at the age he was then of, touched it well enough for the +purpose. His wife sang now and then a little to the tune, then +intermitted and joined her old man again, as their children and +grandchildren danced before them. + +It was not till the middle of the second dance, when, for some pauses in +the movements wherein they all seemed to look up, I fancied I could +distinguish an elevation of spirit different from that which is the +cause of the effect of simple jollity. In a word, I thought I beheld +religion mixing in the dance; but, as I had never seen her so engaged, I +should have looked upon it now as one of the illusions of an imagination +which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the +dance ended, said that this was their constant way; and that all his +life long he had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his +family to dance and rejoice; "believing," he said, "that a cheerful and +contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illiterate +peasant could pay"-- + +"Or a learned prelate either," said I. + + +HINTS FOR AN HISTORICAL PLAY; TO BE CALLED WILLIAM RUFUS; OR, THE RED +ROVER +[Sidenote: _Ingoldsby_] + +_Act_ 1 + + Walter Tyrrel, the son of a Norman papa, + Has, somehow or other, a Saxon mama: + Though humble, yet far above mere vulgar loons, + He's a sort of a sub in the Rufus dragoons; + Has travelled, but comes home abruptly, the rather + That some unknown rascal has murder'd his father; + And scarce has he picked out, and stuck in his quiver, + The arrow that pierced the old gentleman's liver, + When he finds, as misfortunes come rarely alone, + That his sweetheart has bolted--with whom is not known. + But, as murder will out, he at last finds the lady + At court with her character grown rather shady: + This gives him the "blues," and impairs the delight + He'd have otherwise felt when they dub him a Knight + For giving a runaway stallion a check, + And preventing his breaking King Rufus's neck. + +_Act 2_ + + Sir Walter has dress'd himself up like a Ghost, + And frightens a soldier away from his post; + Then, discarding his helmet, he pulls his cloak higher, + Draws it over his ears and pretends he's a Friar. + This gains him access to his sweetheart, Miss Faucit; + But, the King coming in, he hides up in her closet; + Where, oddly enough, among some of her things, + He discovers some arrows he's sure are the King's, + Of the very same pattern with that which he found + Sticking into his father when dead on the ground! + Forgetting his funk, he bursts open the door, + Bounces into the drawing-room, stamps on the floor, + With an oath on his tongue, and revenge in his eye, + And blows up King William the Second sky-high; + Swears, storms, shakes his fist, and exhibits such airs, + That his Majesty bids his men kick him downstairs. + +_Act 3_ + + King Rufus is cross when he comes to reflect, + That, as King, he's been treated with gross disrespect; + So he pens a short note to a holy physician, + And gives him a rather unholy commission, + Viz., to mix up some arsenic and ale in a cup, + Which the chances are Tyrrel may find and drink up. + Sure enough, on the very next morning, Sir Walter + Perceives, in his walks, this same cup on the altar. + As he feels rather thirsty, he's just about drinking, + When Miss Faucit, in tears, comes in running like winking; + He pauses, of course, and, as she's thirsty too, + Says, very politely, "Miss, I after you!" + The young lady curtsies, and, being so dry, + Raises somehow her fair little finger so high, + That there's not a drop left him to "wet t'other eye"; + While the dose is so strong, to his grief and surprise, + She merely says, "Thankee, Sir Walter," and dies. + At that moment the King, who is riding to cover, + Pops in _en passant_ on the desperate lover, + Who has vow'd, not five minutes before, to transfix him-- + So he does--he just pulls out his arrow and sticks him. + From the strength of his arm, and the force of his blows, + The Red-bearded Rover falls flat on his nose; + And Sir Walter, thus having concluded the quarrel, + Walks down to the footlights, and draws this fine moral: + "Ladies and gentlemen, lead sober lives: + Don't meddle with other folks' sweethearts or wives!-- + When you go out a-sporting take care of your gun, + And--never shoot elderly people in fun!" + + +IN A VISITOR'S BOOK +[Sidenote: _J.K. Stephen._] + + Within the bounds of this Hotel, + Which bears the name of Pen-y-Gwryd, + A black and yellow hound doth dwell, + By which my friend and I were worried. + + Our object is not to imply + That he assaulted, bit, or tore us; + In fact he never ventured nigh + Except when food was set before us. + + But when the scent of ham and eggs + Announced the breakage of our fast, + He came and twined about our legs, + And interrupted our repast. + + We drove him from us through the door; + He reappeared; we tried the casement; + He seemed to rise out of the floor, + And importuned us as before, + To our unspeakable amazement. + + But timely succour Fortune brought us; + One word of Welsh we chanced to know, + And that a fellow-guest had taught us; + It meant "Unpleasant creature, go!" + + Stranger! If you should chance to meet him, + Oh do not pull, or kick, or push, + Or execrate, or bribe, or beat him, + But make a sound resembling "Cwsh"! + + +LETTERS OF FITZ +[Sidenote: _Edward FitzGerald_] + +Mazzinghi tells me that November weather breeds blue devils--so that +there is a French proverb, "In October de Englishman shoot de pheasant; +in November he shoot himself." This, I suppose, is the case with me: so +away with November, as soon as may be.... + +Have you got in your "Christian Poet" a poem by Sir H. Wotton--"How +happy is he born or taught, that serveth not another's will"? It is very +beautiful, and fit for a Paradise of any kind. Here are some lines from +old Lily, which your ear will put in the proper metre. It gives a fine +description of a fellow walking in spring, and looking here and there, +and pricking up his ears, as different birds sing: "What bird so sings, +but doth so wail? Oh! 'tis the ravished nightingale: 'Jug, jug, jug, +jug, terue,' she cries, and still her woes at midnight rise. Brave +prick-song! who is't now we hear? It is the lark so shrill and clear: +against heaven's gate he claps his wings, the morn not waking till he +sings. Hark, too, with what a pretty note poor Robin Redbreast tunes his +throat: Hark, how the jolly cuckoos sing, 'Cuckoo' to welcome in the +spring: 'Cuckoo' to welcome in the spring.'" This is very English, and +pleasant, I think: and so I hope you will. I could have sent you many a +more sentimental thing, but nothing better. I admit nothing into my +Paradise, but such as breathe content, and virtue.... + +The Church, like the Ark of Noah, is worth saving: not for the sake of +the unclean beasts that almost filled it, and probably made most noise +and clamour in it, but for the little corner of rationality, that was as +much distressed by the stink within as by the tempest without.... + + +[Sidenote: _Edward FitzGerald_] + +Some one from this house is going to London: and I will try and write +you some lines now in half an hour before dinner. 'I am going out for +the evening to my old lady, who teaches me the names of the stars, and +other chaste information. You see, Master John Allen, that if I do not +come to London (and I have no thought of going yet) and you will not +write, there is likely to be an end of our communication: not, by the +way, that I am never to go to London again; but not just yet. Here I +live with tolerable content: perhaps with as much as most people arrive +at, and what if one were properly grateful one would perhaps call +perfect happiness. Here is a glorious sunshiny day: all the morning I +read about Nero in Tacitus, lying at full length on a bench in the +garden, a nightingale singing, and some red anemones eyeing the sun +manfully not far off. A funny mixture all this, Nero, and the delicacy +of spring, all very human however. Then at half-past one lunch on +Cambridge cream cheese: then a ride over hill and dale: then spudding up +some weeds from the grass: and then, coming in, I sit down to write to +you, my sister winding red worsted from the back of a chair, and the +most delightful little girl in the world chattering incessantly. So runs +the world away. You think I live in Epicurean ease; but this happens to +be a jolly day: one isn't always well, or tolerably good, the weather is +not always clear, nor nightingales singing, nor Tacitus full of pleasant +atrocity. But such as life is, I believe I have got hold of a good end +of it.... + +Give my love to Thackeray from your upper window across the street. + +... I am living (did I tell you this before?) at a little cottage close +by the lawn gates, where I have my books, a barrel of beer, which I tap +myself (can you tap a barrel of beer?), and an old woman to do for me. I +have also just concocted two gallons of tar-water under the directions +of Bishop Berkeley: it is to be bottled off this very day after a +careful skimming, and then drunk by those who can and will. It is to be +tried first on my old woman; if she survives, I am to begin; and it will +then gradually spread into the parish, through England, Europe, etc., +"as the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake." + +... Does the thought ever strike you, when looking at pictures in a +house, that you are to run and jump at one, and go right through it into +some scene-behind-scene world on the other side, as harlequins do? A +steady portrait especially invites one to do so: the quietude of it +ironically tempts one to outrage it. One feels it would close again over +the panel, like water, as if nothing had happened. That portrait of +Spedding, for instance, which Laurence has given me: not swords, nor +cannon, nor all the bulls of Bashan butting at it could, I feel sure, +discompose that venerable forehead. No wonder that no hair can grow at +such an altitude; no wonder his view of Bacon's virtue is so rarefied +that the common consciences of men cannot endure it. Thackeray and I +occasionally amuse ourselves with the idea of Spedding's forehead. We +find it somehow or other in all things, just peering out of all things: +you see it in a milestone, Thackeray says. He also draws the forehead +rising with a sober light over Mont Blanc, and reflected in the Lake of +Geneva. We have great laughing over this. The forehead is at present in +Pembrokeshire, I believe; or Glamorganshire; or Monmouthshire: it is +hard to say which. It has gone to spend its Christmas there.... + + +[Sidenote: _Edward FitzGerald_] + +I wish you would write me ten lines to say how you are. You are, I +suppose, at Cambridge, and I am buried (with all my fine parts, what a +shame!) here; so that I hear of nobody--except that Spedding and I abuse +each other about Shakespeare occasionally, a subject on which you must +know that he has lost his conscience, if he ever had any. For what did +Dr. Allen ... say when he felt Spedding's head? Why, that all his bumps +were so tempered that there was no merit in his sobriety--then what +would have been the use of a Conscience to him? Q.E.D. + +Since I saw you, I have entered into a decidedly agricultural course of +conduct: read books about composts, etc. I walk about in the fields also +where the people are at work, and the more dirt accumulates on my shoes, +the more I think I know. Is not this all funny? Gibbon might elegantly +compare my retirement from the cares and splendours of the world to that +of Diocletian. Have you read Thackeray's little book--"The Second +Funeral of Napoleon"? If not, pray do; and buy it, and ask others to buy +it, as each copy sold puts 7-1/2d. in T.'s pocket, which is very empty +just now, I take it. I think this book is the best thing he has done. +What an account there is of the Emperor Nicholas in Kemble's last +Review! The last sentence of it (which can be by no other man in Europe +but Jack himself) has been meat and drink to me for a fortnight. The +electric eel at the Adelaide Gallery is nothing to it. Then Edgeworth +fires away about the Odes of Pindar, and Donne is very aesthetic about +Mr. Hallam's book. What is the meaning of "exegetical"? Till I know +that, how can I understand the Review? + +Pray remember me kindly to Blakesley, Heath, and such other potentates +as I knew in the days before they "assumed the purple." I am reading +Gibbon, and see nothing but this d----d colour before my eyes. It +changes occasionally to bright yellow, which is (is it?) the Imperial +colour in China, and also the antithesis to purple (_vide_ Coleridge and +Eastlake's "Goethe")--even as the Eastern and Western Dynasties are +antithetical, and yet, by the law of extremes, potentially the same +(_vide_ Coleridge, etc.). Is this aesthetic? Is this exegetical? How glad +I shall be if you can assure me that it is! But, nonsense apart and +begged pardon for, pray write me a line to say how you are, directing to +this pretty place. "The soil is in general a moist and retentive clay, +with a subsoil or pan of an adhesive silicious brick formation; adapted +to the growth of wheat, beans, and clover--requiring, however, a summer +fallow (as is generally stipulated in the lease) every fourth year, +etc." This is not an unpleasing style on agricultural subjects--nor an +uncommon one.... + + * * * * * + +You know my way of life so well that I need not describe it to you, as +it has undergone no change since I saw you. I read of mornings--the same +old books over and over again, having no command of new ones; walk with +my great black dog of an afternoon, and at evening sit with open +windows, up to which China-roses climb, with my pipe, while the +blackbirds and thrushes begin to rustle bedwards in the garden, and the +nightingale to have the neighbourhood to herself. We have had such a +spring (bating the last ten days) as would have satisfied even you with +warmth. And such verdure! white clouds moving over the new-fledged tops +of oak-trees, and acres of grass striving with buttercups. How old to +tell of, how new to see! I believe that Leslie's "Life of Constable" (a +very charming book) has given me a fresh love of spring. Constable loved +it above all seasons: he hated autumn. When Sir G. Beaumont, who was of +the old classical taste, asked him if he did not find it difficult to +place _his brown tree_ in his pictures, "Not at all," said C, "I never +put one in at all." And when Sir George was crying up the tone of the +old masters' landscapes, and quoting an _old violin_ as the proper tone +of colour for a picture, Constable got up, took an old Cremona, and laid +it down on the sunshiny grass. You would like the book. In defiance of +all this, I have hung my room with pictures, like very old fiddles +indeed; but I agree with Sir George and Constable both. I like pictures +that are not like nature. I can have nature better than any picture by +looking out of my window. Yet I respect the man who tries to paint up to +the freshness of earth and sky. Constable did not wholly achieve what he +tried at: and perhaps the old masters chose a soberer scale of things +as more within the compass of lead paint. To paint dew with lead!... + + * * * * * + +It is now the 8th of December; it has blown a most desperate east wind, +all razors; a wind like one of those knives one sees at shops in London, +with 365 blades all drawn and pointed. The wheat is all sown; the +fallows cannot be ploughed. What are all the poor folks to do during the +winter? And they persist in having the same enormous families they used +to do; a woman came to me two days ago who had seventeen children! What +farmers are to employ all these? What landlord can find room for them? +The law of Generation must be repealed.... + + +DEAR CARLYLE, +[Sidenote: _Edward FitzGerald_] + +I should sometimes write to you if I had anything worth telling, or +worth putting you to the trouble of answering me. About twice in a year, +however, I do not mind asking you one thing which is easily answered, +how you and Mrs. Carlyle are? And yet, perhaps, it is not so easy for +you to tell me so much about yourself: for your "well-being" comprises a +good deal! That you are not carried off by the cholera I take for +granted, since else I should have seen in the papers some controversy +with Doctor Wordsworth as to whether you were to be buried in +Westminster Abbey, by the side of Wilberforce perhaps! Besides, a short +note from Thackeray a few weeks ago told me you had been to see him. I +conclude also from this that you have not been a summer excursion of any +distance. + +I address from the Rectory (_Vicarage_it ought to be) of Crabbe, the +"Radiator," whose mind is now greatly exercised with Dr. Whewell's +"Plurality of Worlds." Crabbe, who is a good deal in the secrets of +Providence, admires the work beyond measure, but most indignantly +rejects the doctrine as unworthy of God. I have not read the book, +contented to hear Crabbe's commentaries. I have been staying with him +off and on for two months, and, as I say, give his address because any +letter thither directed will find me sooner or later in my little +wanderings. I am at present staying with a farmer in a very pleasant +house near Woodbridge, inhabiting such a room as even you, I think, +would sleep composedly in; my host a taciturn, cautious, honest, active +man whom I have known all my life. He and his wife, a capital housewife, +and his son, who would carry me on his shoulders to Ipswich, and a +maid-servant, who, as she curtsies of a morning, lets fall the teapot, +etc., constitute the household. Farming greatly prospers, farming +materials fetching an exorbitant price at the Michaelmas auctions--all +in defiance of Sir Fitzroy Kelly, who got returned for Suffolk on the +strength of denouncing Corn Law Repeal as the ruin of the country. He +has bought a fine house near Ipswich, with great gilded gates before it, +and, by dint of good dinners and soft sawder, finally draws the country +gentry to him.... + +Please to look at the September Number of Fraser's Magazine, where there +are some prose translations of Hafiz by Cowell which may interest you a +little. I think Cowell (as he is apt to do) gives Hafiz rather too much +credit for a mystical wine-cup, and cup-bearer; I mean, taking him on +the whole. The few odes he quotes have certainly a deep and pious +feeling, such as the Man of Mirth will feel at times: none perhaps more +strongly. + +Some one by chance read out to me the other day at the seaside your +account of poor old Naseby village from "Cromwell," quoted in Knight's +"Half-Hours," etc. It is now twelve years ago, at this very season, I +was ransacking for you; you promising to come down, and never coming. I +hope very much you are soon going to give us something: else Jerrold and +Tupper carry all before them. + + +TO "LYDIA LANGUISH" +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + + "Il me faut des emotions"--_Blanche Amory_ + + You ask me, Lydia, "whether I, + If you refuse my suit, shall die." + (Now pray don't let this hurt you!) + Although the time be out of joint, + I should not think a bodkin's point + The sole resource of virtue; + Nor shall I, though your mood endure, + Attempt a final Water-cure + Except against my wishes; + For I respectfully decline + To dignify the Serpentine, + And make _hors-d'oeuvres_ for fishes; + But if you ask me whether I + Composedly can go, + Without a look, without a sigh, + Why, then I answer--No. + + "You are assured," you sadly say + (If in this most considerate way + To treat my suit your will is), + That I shall "quickly find as fair + Some new Neaera's tangled hair-- + Some easier Amaryllis." + I cannot promise to be cold + If smiles are kind as yours of old + On lips of later beauties; + Nor can I, if I would, forget + The homage that is Nature's debt, + While man has social duties; + But if you ask shall I prefer + To you I honour so, + A somewhat visionary Her, + I answer truly--No. + + You fear, you frankly add, "to find + In me too late the altered mind + That altering Time estranges." + To this I make response that we + (As physiologists agree) + Must have septennial changes; + This is a thing beyond control, + And it were best upon the whole + To try and find out whether + We could not, by some means, arrange + This not-to-be-avoided change + So as to change together: + But had you asked me to allow + That you could ever grow + Less amiable than you are now,-- + Emphatically--No. + + But--to be serious--if you care + To know how I shall really bear + This much-discussed rejection, + I answer you. As feeling men + Behave, in best romances, when + You outrage their affection;-- + With that gesticulatory woe, + By which, as melodramas show, + Despair is indicated; + Enforced by all the liquid grief + Which hugest pocket-handkerchief + Has ever simulated; + And when, arrived so far, you say + In tragic accents, "Go," + Then, Lydia, then ... I still shall stay, + And firmly answer--No. + + +MARK'S BABY +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +"Mark, one day, was found at home, in his library, dandling upon his +knee, with every appearance of fond 'parientness,' the young Twain--so +young as not yet to be able to 'walk upright and make bargains.' Mrs. +Twain, on showing the visitor into the sanctum, and finding her spouse +thus engaged, said: + +"'Now, Mark, you _know_ you love that baby--don't you?' + +"'Well,' replied Mark, in his slow, drawling kind of way, +'I--can't--exactly--say--I--love it,--_but--I--respect--it!_'" + + +THE WISDOM OF G.K.C. +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +Jesus Christ made wine, not a medicine, but a sacrament. But Omar makes +it, not a sacrament, but a medicine. He feasts because life is not +joyful; he revels because he is not glad. "Drink," he says, "for you +know not whence you come nor why. Drink, for you know not when you go +nor where. Drink, because the stars are cruel and the world as idle as a +humming-top. Drink, because there is nothing worth trusting, nothing +worth fighting for. Drink, because all things are lapsed in a base +equality and an evil peace." So he stands offering us the cup in his +hands. And in the high altar of Christianity stands another figure in +whose hand also is the cup of the vine. "Drink," he says, "for the whole +world is as red as this wine with the crimson of the love and wrath of +God. Drink, for the trumpets are blowing for battle, and this is the +stirrup-cup. Drink, for this is My blood of the New Testament that is +shed for you. Drink, for I know whence you come and why. Drink, for I +know when you go and where."--"Heretics." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +Everything is military in the sense that everything depends upon +obedience. There is no perfectly epicurean corner; there is no perfectly +irresponsible place. Everywhere men have made the way for us with sweat +and submission. We may fling ourselves into a hammock in a fit of divine +carelessness; but we are glad that the net-maker did not make the net in +a fit of divine carelessness. We may jump upon a child's rocking-horse +for a joke; but we are glad that the carpenter did not leave the legs of +it unglued for a joke.--"Heretics." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +The only way of catching a train I have ever discovered is to miss the +train before.--"Tremendous Trifles." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +In a hollow of the grey-green hills of rainy Ireland lived an old, old +woman, whose uncle was always Cambridge at the Boat-race. But in her +grey-green hollows, she knew nothing of this; she didn't know that there +was a Boat-race. Also she did not know that she had an uncle. She had +heard of nobody at all, except of George the First, of whom she had +heard (I know not why), and in whose historical memory she put her +simple trust. And by and by, in God's good time, it was discovered that +this uncle of hers was really not her uncle, and they came and told her +so. She smiled through her tears, and said only, "Virtue is its own +reward."--"The Napoleon of Notting Hill." + +In a world without humour, the only thing to do is to eat. And how +perfect an exception! How can these people strike dignified attitudes, +and pretend that things matter, when the total ludicrousness of life is +proved by the very method by which it is supported? A man strikes the +lyre, and says, "Life is real, life is earnest," and then goes into a +room and stuffs alien substances into a hole in his head.--"The Napoleon +of Notting Hill." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +A man must be orthodox upon most things, or he will never even have time +to preach his own heresy.--"George Bernard Shaw." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +Only in our romantic country do you have the romantic thing called +weather--beautiful and changeable as a woman. The great English +landscape painters (neglected now, like everything that is English) have +this salient distinction, that the weather is not the atmosphere of +their pictures; it is the subject of their pictures. They paint +portraits of the weather. The weather sat to Constable; the weather +posed for Turner--and the deuce of a pose it was. In the English +painters the climate is the hero; in the case of Turner a swaggering and +fighting hero, melodramatic but magnificent. The tall and terrible +protagonist robed in rain, thunder, and sunlight fills the whole canvas +and the whole foreground. Rich colours actually look more luminous on a +grey day, because they are seen aganst a dark background, and seem to be +burning with a lustre of their own. Against a dim sky all flowers look +like fireworks. There is something strange about them at once vivid and +secret, like flowers traced in fire in the grim garden of a witch. A +bright blue sky is necessarily the high-light in the picture, and its +brightness kills all the bright blue flowers. But on a grey day the +larkspur looks like fallen heaven; the red daisies are really the lost +red eyes of day, and the sunflower is the vice-regent of the sun. +Lastly, there is this value about the colour that men call colourless: +that it suggests in some way the mixed and troubled average of +existence, especially in its quality of strife and expectation and +promise. Grey is a colour that always seems on the eve of changing to +some other colour; of brightening into blue, or blanching into white, or +breaking into green or gold. So we may be perpetually reminded of the +indefinite hope that is in doubt itself; and when there is grey weather +on our hills or grey hair on our heads perhaps they may still remind us +of the morning.--"Daily News." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesteron_] + +Silence is the unbearable repartee.--"Charles Dickens." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +For those who study the great art of lying in bed there is one emphatic +caution to be added. Even for those who cannot do their work in bed (as, +for example, the professional harpooners of whales), it is obvious that +the indulgence must be very occasional. But that is not the caution I +mean. The caution is this: if you do lie in bed, be sure you do it +without any reason or justification at all. I do not speak, of course, +of the seriously sick. But if a healthy man lies in bed, let him do it +without a rag of excuse; then he will get up a healthy man. If he does +it for some secondary hygienic reason, if he has some scientific +explanation, he may get up a hypochondriac.--"Tremendous Trifles." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +His soul will never starve for exploits or excitements who is wise +enough to be made a fool of. He will make himself happy in the traps +that have been laid for him; he will roll in their nets and sleep. All +doors will fly open to him who has a mildness more defiant than mere +courage. The whole is unerringly expressed in one fortunate phrase--he +will be always "taken in." To be taken in everywhere is to see the +inside of everything. It is the hospitality of circumstance. With +torches and trumpets, like a guest, the greenhorn is taken in by Life. +And the sceptic is cast out by it.--"Charles Dickens." + + +[Sidenote: _G.K. Chesterton_] + +I have often been haunted with a fancy that the creeds of men might be +paralleled and represented in their beverages. Wine might stand for +genuine Catholicism, and ale for genuine Protestantism; for these at +least are real religions, with comfort and strength in them. Clean cold +Agnosticism would be clean cold water--an excellent thing if you can get +it. Most modern ethical and idealistic movements might be well +represented by soda-water--which is a fuss about nothing. Mr. Bernard +Shaw's philosophy is exactly like black coffee--it awakens, but it does +not really inspire. Modern hygienic materialism is very like cocoa; it +would be impossible to express one's contempt for it in stronger terms +than that.--"William Blake." + + * * * * * + +To the quietest human being, seated in the quietest house, there will +sometimes come a sudden and unmeaning hunger for the possibilities or +impossibilities of things; he will abruptly wonder whether the teapot +may not suddenly begin to pour out honey or sea-water, the clock to +point to all hours of the day at once, the candle to burn green or +crimson, the door to open upon a lake or a potato-field instead of a +London street. Upon any one who feels this nameless anarchism there +rests for the time being the spirit of pantomime. Of the clown who cuts +the policeman in two it may be said (with no darker meaning) that he +realises one of our visions.--"The Defendant." + + +"THE VULGAR TONGUE" +[Sidenote: _Dean Hole_] + +First, of abuses. I protest against those sensational adjectives, which +are so commonly misapplied--against the union of grand and noble words +with subjects of a minute and trivial nature. It is as though a huge +locomotive engine were brought out to draw a child's perambulator, or as +though an Armstrong gun were loaded and levelled to exterminate a +tom-tit. + +I heard a tourist say the other day that, when he was at Black Gang +Chine, in the Isle of Wight, he had seen the _most magnificent_--what do +you think? A sunset, a man-of-war, a thunderstorm? Nothing of the kind. +He had seen the most _magnificent prawns_ he ever ate in his life. + +And when I asked another young gentleman, who was speaking of "_the most +tremendous screw_ ever made in the world," to which of our great +ironclads he referred, he smiled upon me with a benign and courteous +pity, as he said that he "was alluding to a screw into the middle +pocket, which he had recently seen during a game at billiards between +Cook and the younger Roberts." + +When you hear one lady informing another that she had just seen simply +the most _exquisite_, the most _lovely_, the most _perfect_ thing in +existence, is she referring to something wonderful in nature, or to +something beautiful in art, or can it be only a bonnet? Has she just +come home from the glaciers of Switzerland, the lakes of Italy, the +mountains of Connemara, or the castles of the Rhine, or can it be that +she has been no farther than Marshall and Snelgrove's shop? + +Then there's that awful "_awful_!" Why, if a thousandth part of things +which are commonly affirmed to be aweful were aweful, we should go about +with our faces blanched, like his who drew Priam's curtain in the dead +of night, our teeth chattering, and our hair on end. Everything is +_aweful_--awefully good or awefully bad. + +Only last week I handed a plate to a young lady at luncheon, and, +looking sweetly upon me, as though I had brought a reprieve from the +gallows, she sighed, "Oh thanks! how _awfully_ kind!" + +And years ago, I went with John Leech to admire Robson in _The Porter's +Knot_, and when that pathetic little drama was over, and the actor had +stirred our souls with pity, an undergraduate in the stalls before us +turned to his companion, as the curtain fell, and said, tremulously, +with an emotion which did him honour, although his diction was queer, +"Awefully jolly! awefully jolly!" + +Yes, it amuses, but it pains us more, this reckless abuse and confusion +of words, because it tends to lower the dignity and to pervert the +meaning of our language; it dishonours the best member that we have. If +we use the most startling and impressive words which we can find, when +we do not really require them, when the crisis comes in which they are +appropriate, they seem feeble and commonplace. We are as persons who, +wearing their best clothes daily, are but dingy guests at a feast. + +Then comes retribution. They who cry "Wolf!" whenever they see a leveret +are not believed when Lupus comes. They who suffer "excruciating agony" +whenever a thorn pricks, can say no more under exquisite pain, and their +familiar words are powerless to evoke the sympathy which they have +repelled so long. They are more likely to receive the severe rebuke +administered by a gruff old gentleman to his maudlin, moribund +neighbour, who was ever exaggerating his ailments, and who, upon his +doleful declaration that "between three and four o'clock that morning he +had been at Death's door!" was abruptly but anxiously asked--"Oh, why +didn't you go in?" + +I protest, in the next place, against the use of long, large words for +the gratification of that conceit or covetousness which seeks to obtain, +from mere grandiloquence, reputations and rewards to which it is not +entitled. Being a gardener, I like to call a spade as spelt; and if any +one terms it an horticultural implement, or a mattock, I do not expect +him to dig much. I have used the monosyllable "shop," and I will not +recall it, though a thousand pairs of gleaming scissors were pointed at +my breast, and I was told by an angry army of apprentices to talk shop +no more--the word was vulgar, or rather obsolete, superseded by the more +graceful terms of mart, emporium, warehouse, repository, bazaar, and +lounge. + +Plain folk, who sold drugs when I was a boy, were not ashamed to be +called druggists, but now they are pharmaceutical chymists, and +analytical Homoeopathists; and one is tempted to quote Canning's +paraphrase, which he made when Dr. Addington had been complimenting the +country party, "I do remember an apothecary, gulling of simples." +Persons who cut hair were known as hair-cutters, and they who attended +to the feet were called corn-cutters; but now the former are artists in +hair, and the latter are chiropodists. + +No long time ago I consulted with an intelligent tradesman as to the +best way of protecting from frost a long line of standard rose-trees, +growing near a wall in my garden, and shortly afterwards I received from +him the drawing of a clever design, with a letter informing me that he +had now the pleasure of submitting to my inspection his idea of a +_Cheimoboethus_. When I rallied from my swoon, and was staggering +towards my lexicon, I remembered that, as [Greek: cheimon] was the Greek +for winter, and [Greek: boaethos] for a friend in need, the word was not +without appropriate meaning; but I never took heart to order the +invention, because I felt convinced that, if I were to inform my +gardener that we were going to have a Cheimoboethus, he would say that +he would rather leave. + +A bird-stuffer is now a plumassier and taxidermist; and when I asked a +waiter the meaning of "Phusitechnicon," which I read over a shop +opposite his hotel, he told me it meant old china. And he bowed +respectfully, as one who knew how to treat a great scholar, when he met +him, as I remarked gravely, "Ah yes, I see: no doubt from _phusi_--the +ancients, and _technicon_--cups and saucers." + +Nor can I leave these long Greek words without noticing another +objectionable abuse of them, whereby, upon the principle that "what in +the captain's but a choleric word, is in the soldier flat blasphemy," a +distinction is made between vice in the rich and vice in the poor, and +that which in the latter is obstinate depravity, to be handled only by +the police, becomes in the former a pitiable weakness or an irresistible +impulse to be gently nursed by the physician. If a poor man steals, he +is a desperate thief; but if a rich man fancies that which does not +belong to him he is a Kleptomaniac, and "the spoons will be returned." +If a poor man is addicted to alcohol he is a drunken sot; but if a rich +man is oft intoxicated, he is afflicted with Dipsomania! Interesting +patient! I should like to prescribe for him. I feel sure I could do him +good with my medicines--the crank and water-gruel! + +Leaving him at it, I pass on to another mania, which rather provokes +amusement than anger--the mania to be called "Esquire." Forty years ago, +the title was restricted to those who carried arms. The armiger, no +longer toiling after his knight with heavy helmet and shield, bore his +own arms, as he drove along, proudly and pleasantly upon his carriage +door. People who became rich, and found themselves shut out from +"genteel society" because they had only letters upon their spoons, +instead of birds and beasts, arms with daggers, and legs with spurs, +were delighted to discover, on application at the Heralds' Office, that +one of their ancestors had undoubtedly exercised the functions of a +groom in the establishment of William the Conqueror, and that they were +consequently entitled to bear upon their arms a stable-bucket _azure_, +between two horses current, and to wear as their crest a curry-comb in +base argent, between two wisps of hay proper, they and their +descendants, according to the law of arms. But the luxury was expensive: +a lump sum to the Heralds, and two pound two to the King's taxes; and +so, as time went on, men of large ambition, but of limited means, began +to crave for some more economical process by which they might become +esquires. They met together, and they solved the difficulty. They +conferred the title upon each other, and they charged no fee. And now +the postal authorities will tell you that the number of the "esquires" +not carrying arms, not having so much as a leg to stand on (in the +matter of legal claims), is something "awful!" But the process is so +charmingly cheap and easy that we may expect a further development. Why +should we not all be baronets? Why should we not raise ourselves, every +man of us, on his own private hoist, to the Peerage? + +We have all been ladies and gentlemen so long that a little nobility, +with its attendant titles, cannot fail to make a pleasant change. Bessie +Black, who cleans the fire-irons, has for some years been Miss +Cinderella, with a chignon and a lover on Sundays; and Bill, who weeds +in the garden, is Mr. Groundsell with a betting-book and a bad cigar. A +quotation from the newspapers will exemplify the comprehensiveness of +those terms "ladies and gentlemen," which had once such definite and +narrow restrictions. A witness, giving evidence at a trial, says: "When +I see that gentleman in the hand-cuffs a-shinning and a-punching that +lady with the black eye, I says to my missus, 'Them's ways,' I says, 'as +I don't hold to'; and she makes answer to me, 'You better hadn't.'" + +Let me not be misunderstood to mean that none are ladies and gentlemen +who do not eat with silver forks, or that all persons that go about in +carriages deserve those gracious names. I have met with persons calling +themselves gentlemen, who evidently thought it manly and high-spirited +to swear at their servants, and who were incapable of appreciating any +anecdote which was not profane or coarse; and I have met, as all who go +amongst the poor have met, men who well deserved that noble epithet in +cottages and corduroy. Who has not seen illustrious snobs in satin, and +sweet, modest gentlewomen in homely print and serge? A gentleman! +There's no title shouted at a reception so grand in my idea as this; and +yet, methinks, that any man may win and wear it who is brave, and +truthful, and generous, and pure, and kind--who is, in one word, a +Christian! + +Some people think to make themselves gentlemen by tampering with their +patronymics, and by altering their family name. Brown has added an _e_ +to his; and greedy Green, though he had two already, has followed his +example; and White spells his with a _y_; and Bob Smith calls his son +and heir Augustus Charlemagne Sacheverel Smythe; and Tailor calls +himself Tayleure. And one day Tailor went out a-hunting, and he worried +a whipper-in, who had plenty of work on his hands, with a series of +silly questions, until, upon his asking the name of a hound, he received +an answer which put an end to the discourse: "Well, sir," said the Whip, +"we used to call him Towler; but things has got so fine and fashionable +we calls him _Tow-leure."_ + +Passing from abuse to disuse, I would not refer to words which are +gradually becoming obsolete, but which some of us, partly from +admiration of the words themselves, and partly from old associations, +would not willingly let die. Beginning alphabetically, the adjective +_ask_ is one of those grand old English monosyllables which convey the +sense in the sound, It speaks to you of a day in March, when the wind +is in the east, and all the clouds are of a dull slate colour, and the +roads are white, and the hedges black, and the fallows are dry and hard +as bricks, and a bitter, searching, piercing wind whistles at your +sealskins and Ulsters, your Lindseys and Jerseys, your foot-warmers and +muffatees, and you feel, with Miggs, "as though water were flowing +aperiently down your back," and sit shuddering--dithering (there's +another word rarely used, but with a sufficient amount of chilliness in +it to ice a bottle of champagne) "dithering in the _ask_, ungenial day." + +Then I like _abear_ (the penultimate _a_ pronounced as _e_)--"I can't +abeer him"; _addled_--"Bill's addled noat a three week"; _agate_--"I see +you've agate on't"; _among-hands_--"Tom schemed to do it among-hands"; +_all along of_--"It was all along of them 'osses"; etc. + +Of B's there is a swarm: _beleddy_ (a corruption, as most men know, of +"by our lady"), and I can only notice a few of the Queens. _Botch_ is a +word which, though found in Shakespeare and Dryden, and other authors, +is rarely used by us; and yet, methinks, in these days, when the great +object seems to be to get quantity in place of quality, and to make as +much display as we can at the price--when so much is done by contract, +and there is, in consequence, strong temptation to daub with untempered +mortar, to use green timber, to put in bad material where it will not be +seen, the verb _to botch_ is only too appropriate to all such scampish +proceedings. + +And what do you think of _bofen-yed_? I once heard a farmer, shouting +from the garden fence, with the vocal powers of a Boanerges, to a +labourer at work about a quarter of a mile away, "Yer gret bofen-yed, +can ter ear noat?" (_Anglice_, "You ox-headed lout, are you stone +deaf?"); and more frequently the terms, _pudding-yed_ and _noggen-yed_ +have been addressed in my hearing to obtuse and stupid folk. The former +requires no comment, and an explanation of the latter--_noggen_, hard, +rough, coarse--may be found in Johnson. "Nay, I did na say thee wor a +noggen-yed; I said Lawyer said thee were a noggen-yed," was a poor +apology, once spoken in Lancashire. And there also, in time-honoured +Lancaster, was made the following illustrative speech. A conceited young +barrister, with a _nez retrousse_ and a new wig, had been bullying for +some time a rough, honest Lancashire lad, who was giving evidence in a +trial, and at last the lawyer, thinking that he saw his opportunity, +turned sharply upon the witness and said, "Why, fellow, only a short +time ago you stated so and so." To which came the indignant answer, +"Why, yer powder-yedded monkey, I never said noat o' sort; I appeal to +th' company!" + +I have a loving faith in children. Mixing with them daily--in church, in +school, and at their play--I think that I know something about them; and +I maintain that a disagreeable child is a sorrowful exception to the +rule, and the result of mismanagement and foolish indulgences on the +part of parents and teachers. But when this abnormal nuisance is found, +a peevish, fretful child--a child who is always wanting to taste, a +child who ignores the admirable purposes for which pocket-handkerchiefs +were designed, such an _enfant terrible_ as he who told the kindly +mother, offering to bring her 'Gustus to join him in his play, that "if +you bring your 'Gustus here I shall make a slit in him with my new +knife, and let out his sawdust"--when, I repeat, we come in contact with +such an obnoxious precocity as this, what word can describe him so +satisfactorily as the monosyllable--_brat_? + +More detestable, because more powerful to do hurt, and with less excuse +for doing it, is _the Blab_; the unctuous, tattling Blab, who creeps to +your side with words softer than butter, but having war in his heart; he +"always thought that Sam Smith was such a friend of yours, and" (hardly +waiting for your "So he is") "was surprised and rather disgusted by his +remarks at the Club last Thursday." And then he tells you something +which, for a moment, and until principle prevails over passion, suggests +the removal by violence of several of Sam's teeth, and he leaves you +distressed and distrustful, until you discover, as you most probably +will, that there has been cruel misrepresentation. Ah, if poor +Jeannette's desire were realised, and they who make the quarrels were +the only men to fight, how nice it would be to sit upon an eminence and +watch the Battle of the Blabs! + +There was a battle once on a small scale, the only rational duel ever +fought, in which a brace of Blabs were sweetly discomfited. They had +succeeded in separating "very friends," and had arranged a hostile +meeting; but, through the intervention of better men, and without their +cognisance, the principals entered into explanation, and, finding that +they had been misled, mutually agreed to fire at the seconds, who had +made the mischief. One Blab received a bullet in the calf of his leg, +and the other a _ping_ close to his whiskers; and then the combatants +said that their honour was satisfied, and the party broke up. + +Some years ago there lived in our village an individual who was known to +us as _Brawnging_ Bill. Does not the epithet describe the man? As you +pronounce it, does not William's photograph present itself to your +mental eye? A large, obese, idle _hulk_ of a man (fine old Saxon word, +that _hulc_!) lounging about with his hands in his pockets and a pipe in +his mouth; a man who talks at the top of his voice, and laughs the loud +laugh which tells the vacant mind, and lies with such volubility that +you would think truth was a fool. Eloquent, didactic, imperious was he +in the taproom and by the blacksmith's forge, in the quoit-yard and in +the alley of skittles, and yet, whene'er his tongue led him into +trouble, and there was whisper of peril to that fat form of his, at the +first utterance of a threat, the first sign of aggressive anger, there +was a dissolving view of our Brawnging Bill. + +From B to C.--Whenever the fairer sex enter Parliament (breathes there a +man with ears so deaf as to doubt their powers of parlance?) and we have +a House of Ladies as well as a House of Lords, I anticipate that among +the first measures introduced will be a coercive Bill for Regulating in +the Clay Districts the scraping, wiping, and cleaning of men's boots on +their return from the garden or the field. A sore provocation it must +surely be to those who love order and brightness to find slabs of dirt +upon their new oil-cloth, Indian mats, and bright encaustic tiles. +Justly may the gentlest spirit _chunter_ and complain while the guilty +husband, from his dressing-room hard by, vainly essays to evade his +shame by a quotation--"Would my darling have me come bootless home--home +without boots, and in wet weather, too?" Better to give the real, the +only excuse, and say that the soil is so--no, not adhesive, not sticky, +not tenacious, but, to use a word ten thousand times more expressive +than these, so _clarty_. + +And do you not remember (on we go, voyaging among the C's,) a time, a +happy time, before you knew what digestion meant, when you delighted to +_cranch_ the unripe gooseberry, until you heard the _clomp_ of the +paternal tread on the _causey_, and crouched lest you should _catch +it_, hid to escape a hiding; and how, nevertheless, swift retribution +followed upon the track of crime, and you suffered those internal pains, +which were vulgarly known as _colly-wobbles_, and were _coddled_, in +consequence, upon your mother's knee? + +Going on to D--Dickens, in a description of a street row, represents one +of the lady disputants as saying to her adversary, "You go home, and, +when you are quite sober, mend your stockings"; and he adds that these +allusions, not only to her intemperate habits but to the state of her +wardrobe, were so exasperating to the accused party that she proceeded +to comply, not with the suggestion of her accuser, but with the request +of the bystanders, and to "pitch in" with considerable alacrity. +Assuming that her hose was as reported, let us hope that she had the +worst of the combat, for there is something in the idea of a _dowdy_ +which is hateful to the manly mind. How life-like the portrait which the +word paints for us! a coarse, fat female, her dingy cap, with its faded +ribbons, awry upon her unkempt hair; eyes hookless, holes buttonless, +upon her shabby gown; a boot-lace trailing on the ground. When we clergy +visit Mrs. Dowdy's home, or the residence of her sister, Mrs. Slattern, +and find that, though it is towards evening, they have not tidied either +self or house, we know why the children are unhealthy and untaught, and +why the husband prefers the warmth and cleanliness of "The Manor Arms" +to his own miserable hut. As a house-keeper, Mrs. Dowdy could only +"please the pigs"; and this reminds me what an apt word we have in +_dunky_ for a rotund, obese, little porket. I do not find the latter in +Johnson, but dowdy in Shakespeare, and _slattern_ is from the Swedish. + +No word suggests itself as I stand at E's, and I therefore proceed with +a sonata in F, composed, not by Beethoven, but by a horse-breaker, with +certain amplifications of my own: "The young horse was in famous +_fettle_, and _framed_ splendidly over the _flakes_; but he seemed all +of a _flabber-gaster_ when he caught sight of the water, put himself +into a regular _fandango_, and the more I _flanked_ him the more he +_funked,_ till in he went with a _flop._" + +I come now to a gem of purest ray serene. To me the monosyllable _gorp_ +is a thing of beauty and a joy for ever. Take a youth, who has passed +his life as an underling on some secluded farm, to an exhibition of wax +figures, gorgeously attired, rolling their eyes and lifting up their +arms to slow music, and you shall see him _gorp_. Or go with that young +man to a display of fireworks, and when the first asteroid rocket sends +out its glowing stars you shall see that wide-mouthed, wobbling +agriculturist so gorp as to make it almost impossible for the descending +stick to go anywhere save down his throat. + +But we are all of us naturally fond of gorping. We abstain in our +sensitive days, because somebody said it was vulgar; but, as we grow +older and wiser, and that bell-wether Fashion tinkles vainly in our +ears, we flatten our happy noses upon the shop-windows once again, and +thoroughly enjoy our _gorp_. + +At Oxford, I remember, it was considered very low indeed to gorp. In +fact, we did not allow ourselves to be astonished at anything, unless it +was the audacity of trades-people with reference to the payment of their +little bills. Wherefore I the more honour the conduct and courage of a +college friend who, honest himself, and as free from humbug as any man I +know, was bored, especially in London, by the society of an affected +coxcomb, who persisted in attaching himself whenever they met, giving +himself all sorts of silly airs, enlarging upon his intimacy with titled +folks, and asserting himself to be, like Mrs. Jarley's show, the delight +of the nobility and gentry of the day. "Gradually," said my friend to +me, "I discovered a process by which I might execute a deed of +separation. First, I rattled my stick against the area railings, and I +saw him wince; then I whistled an Ethiopian serenade, and 'o'er his face +a tablet of unutterable thoughts was traced'; but when I set my hat well +on the back of my head, and _gorped_ with open mouth at six legs of pork +in a butcher's shop, he fled, and I saw him no more." + +Thus did my friend successfully assume the lineaments of a _gawk_, and +the deportment of a _gorby_, that he might evade the oppressive +attentions of a companion given to _gawster_. The enemy whom he so +adroitly dispersed bore a strong family likeness to a fraternal +nuisance, whom we recently inspected, being, in fact, a new edition, on +toned paper and elegantly bound, of the braggart, "Brawnging Bill," and +exhibiting the same feeble powers of resistance when his silly conceits +were thwarted. Honest men, hoping reformation, rejoice to see him slink +away, rejoice to see the _gawsterer_ subdued, as when Theodore Hook +rushed across Fleet Street to one, who was walking as proudly down it as +though the Bank of England was his counting-house and St. Paul's his +private Chapel, and, almost breathless with admiring awe, gasped his +anxious question--"O sir, O pray sir, may I ask, sir--are you anybody in +particular?" Certainly it is either a great amusement or a great +irritation (as the weather, or disposition, or digestion may influence), +to meet with persons in parks, promenades, esplanades, and spas who +ostensibly expect you to look at them in an ecstasy of wonder, as though +they were a sunset on Mont Blanc or the Balaklava Charge. + +Only in three exceptional cases is it permissible, as I think, to +_gawster_. I like to see a drum-major, with my grandmother's +carriage-muff on his head, and a baton in his hand as long as a +bean-rod, swaggering at the head of his regiment, as though he had only +to knock at the gates of a besieged city and the governor would +instantly send the keys. Secondly, I was disappointed the other day at +the stolid behaviour of a sheep, who went on grazing with a sublime +indifference when a peacock, having marched some distance for the +purpose, wheeled round within a yard of his nose, displaying his +brilliant charms in vain; and all the eyes of Argus seemed to pale their +ineffectual fire, as when Mercury, with his delightful music, in +accordance with the command of Jupiter, and with Lempriere's dictionary, +made them wink in a delicious drowse. And, thirdly, in the case of a +game bantam, once my property, who flew up every morning to the top of a +tall pump, and challenged Nottinghamshire to fight, I could not but +admire the gawstering spirit, because he so thoroughly meant all that he +said, and would have gladly matched himself against a mad elephant, or +would have crowed defiance, midway between the rails, as the express +rushed on at speed. + +But in other animals I would pitilessly suppress proclivities to +gawster. I would ask power from Parliament to whip, when mild persuasion +failed, the precocious prig, "neither man nor boy," who struts about on +Sundays, scoffing at religion, and polluting the air with bad tobacco +and worse talk; and I would authorise the police to supervise, and to +send home at their discretion, those small giggling girls who, having +lost the shame which is a glory and a grace, and coveting every +adornment but one, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, are seen in +our streets, with nearly half a year's wage upon their backs, and the +change on their faces--in brass. + +To gawster, in fine, is a sure indication of moral and physical +debility. He who gawsters is like a show, which has enormous pictures +and clanging cymbals, and gongs, and drums, and an obese showman, in his +shirt-sleeves, lying through a speaking-trumpet at the top of his voice, +_outside_, and little more than a three-headed puppy, or a seven-legged +lamb (not in vigorous life, as shown upon the canvas, but in glass and +spirits of wine) _within_. When, for example, you hear a man gawster +about his horsemanship, you may be sure that he will never be first over +a fence, unless it be some wee obstacle, which you could almost arrange +on a rocking-horse, and then he will rush wildly at it, as though he had +made up his mind to die; or, if his boasting be of cricket, you may +expect next morning to see him miss the first easy catch which comes. + +I need hardly ask whether you have known, my reader, what it is to feel +yourself _gloppened_, as when in boyhood (if feminine, please ask your +brother), you had just finished your first pipe of the herb called shag, +and on your face a tablet of unutterable thoughts was traced, as +represented in that marvellous sketch by John Leech, "Old Bagshawe under +the influence of tobacco"; when you went forth with your mother for an +innings, as you hoped, at the confectioner's, and a second ditto at the +toyshop, and saw her ringing the dentist's bell; when you had carefully +adjusted that cracker to Mr. Nabal's knocker, and were lighting the +lucifer within the quiet seclusion of your cap, and suddenly the +knuckles of Mr. Nabal's left pressed rudely on your nape, and the thumb +and finger of his right essayed to meet each other through the lobe of +your ear; when your dearest friend, in the strictest confidence, and +having sworn you to secrecy, showed you a lock of gleaming hair, given +to him by the girl whom you adored. + + And it was you, my Thomas, you, + The friend in whom my soul confided, + Who dared to gaze on her--to do, + I may say, much the same as I did. + +Or when, in after-years, unequally mated, you groaned, with Parolles, +under the subjection of a stronger will, "a man that's married is a man +that's marred"; and it might be said of you, as once it was said by a +labourer of one of his neighbours (so have I read in a book about roses, +a charming volume, which should be on every table), "Bill has been and +married his mestur, and she has _gloppened_ him a goodish bit." + +I remember an occasion when a gawsterer was gloppened sorely. There was +an ancient mansion, wainscoted and floored with shining oak, _glib_--I +have not heard that apposite, terse little monosyllable since I went +_slurring_ with the village boys--glib as glass; and in that ancient +mansion there was a banquet; and to that banquet came, with other +guests, "a fop in a gay coat," a coxcomb wearing the bright vestment of +the hunter, albeit in the hour of chase he only hunted gates and gaps; +and upon the white satin lining of his "pink" there was a tiny +button-hole bouquet, such as Mab might have held with her fairy fingers +at the time of her coronation; and in collar, if in nothing else, he +resembled the immortal Shakespeare; and his bosom was broad and snowy as +the swan's; and his pumps were glossy as the raven's wing; and he was +going dinnerward, with a winsome damsel on his arm and a complacent +smile of self-conceit upon his countenance, when the smooth soles of +these new and shining shoes suddenly performed a rapid evolution, as +though they were skates upon ice; and there was a little shriek from the +winsome damsel in particular, and a large "Oh!" from the procession in +general, and a flash of horizontal scarlet, as when a soldier falls in +battle; and then the bruised and bewildered dandy picked himself up, as +best he could, to perform a part for which his qualifications were +small--the personification of a man who had a relish for pain; and I +sympathised with, though I did not love him--not so much because his +feelings, as because his raiment was torn, and he, who was generally the +most lively and locomotive of all, was now depressed and sedentary, like +the lover of Constance, brooding upon his silent grief, as on its nest +the dove, while we remained at the dinner-table, and finally backing out +of the drawing-room at an early hour, as though our hostess were the +queen. + +And his involuntary gymnastics remind me, as I pass on to that +"terrible thoroughbred" letter H (I have heard men speak of others who +ignored it in conversation as though they must be capable of any crime), +of a stout old lady in the manufacturing districts, whose husband had +been very successful in business, and had purchased a fine old country +residence from some dilapidated squire. She was complaining to a visitor +of the difficulty which she had in walking upon the polished floors. +"First I sluther," she said, "and then I hutch; and then I sluther, and +then I hutch; and the more I hutch the more I sluther." + +Only one other specimen (for I must hurry on helter-skelter and +harum-scarum) from words beginning with H--to be, or cause others to be, +on the _hig_, that is, to go about, or cause others to go about, in a +fume, angrily excited, menacing revenge. "Betty," I asked one of my +parishioners, "why do you make these ill-natured, irritating speeches to +your next-door neighbour?" "Oh, bless yer," was the reply I received, "I +only said 'em just to set old Sally on the _hig_." She knew that not to +many was it given to hear resignedly the bitter word, that not to many +was given in its reality the resignation affected by another of my old +women, who (one of those wretched combinations of religion and rancour, +"who think they're pious when they're only bilious") accosted me with +the startling intelligence--"Oh, Mestur 'Ole, I've got another lift +towards 'eaven. Bowcocks" (tenants of the cottage adjoining her own), +"Bowcocks has been telling more lies; blessed are the parsecuted!" +Better open war than this dismal affectation of peace! Better to confess +ourselves _hity-tity_, and to raise a _hullabaloo_, than such _humbug_ +as this! + +I, the egotist, has for once nothing to say; but J recalls to me an +extract from a conversation which took place during one of my parochial +visitations. + +_Pastor_.--"Did I not see old Nanny Smith talking with you at your door +just now?" + +_Parishioner_.--"Oh yes, she wor' here not three minutes sin', and +_jabbering_, as usual, like a clamm'd [famished] jay in a wood; but when +she see your reverence coming up th' lane, th' old lass wor' gone in a +_jiffey_." + +K makes no suggestions, and L but few. "I'll _lay_," has no reference to +eggs or to a recumbent posture, but implies a wager. Some years ago, I +was riding to the meet, and came up inaudibly, upon the wayside grass, +with two grooms on their masters' hunters, peering over their pummels at +a mounted horse in the distance before them and anxiously discussing his +identity. Just as I was passing the disputants, the one turned to the +other and said, "I shall _lay yer_ three threepenny gins to one as it's +Colonel's rat-tailed 'oss." + +_Lig_ is still commonly used for "lie." "Our Bob has ligabed sin' +Monday." "The moon wor _ligging_ behind a cloud, so they couldn't see +keepers coming." To _lorp_ is to move awkwardly or idly, and the word +suggests a noble line for the alliterative poet: + + Lo, lazy lubbers loutish, lorp and loll. + +In the days of my boyhood I was perplexed conjecturing by what process +of the rustic mind moles had changed their names into _Mouldi-warps_; +but I have since discovered that in this instance, as in countless +others, the bucolic brain was not so mollified by beans and bacon as +some would have us believe. The _mould_--and very fine mould it is--is +_warped_, turned up by the mole; and this reminds me of a mole-catcher, +whose principles were warped also, and whose occupation was gone awhile +in our parts, when it was discovered that he carried a collection of +dead moles about with him, with which, the morning after his traps had +been set, he made a grand display on some contiguous hedge, inducing his +employer fondly to imagine that his enemies (as he thought of them) had +been all destroyed in a night. + +Flying onwards--for this is a very fugitive piece--I would ask +admiration for the adjective _muggy_, as exquisitely descriptive of +weather, not uncommon in this climate, where a fog gives one the idea, +suggested by Dickens, that nature is brewing on an extensive scale +outside, and there's dampness everywhere, taking the curl from ringlet +and whisker, and causing our adhesive envelopes to fasten themselves on +our writing-table, as though practising the duties of their post. + + No sun, no moon, + No morn, no noon, + No dawn, no dusk, no proper time of day-- + No sky, no earthly view, + No distance looking blue. + No road, no street, no t'other side the way-- + No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, + No comfortable feel in any member, + No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, + No ... vember! + +I love, though not as licensed victuallers love, the little monosyllable +_nip_. What a nimble agility, what a motive power, in that curt, +imperative word!--the pistol-shot which starts the boat-race, the brief, +shrill whistle which starts the train. "Just nip off your horse and pull +out that stake." "You nipped out o' the army," said a snob to a friend +of mine, who had retired some years before the Crimean invasion, and +who, in his magisterial capacity, had offended the snob; "you know'd t' +war wor' a-coming; you nipped out, you didn't relish them Rooshan +baggonets a-prodding and a-pricking. You nipped out o' th' army; you +know'd t' war wor' coming. Good morning. I think you were right." + +When the wind bloweth in from the Orient, or when our discretion has +collapsed before a lobster salad (that claw looked so innocently pink, +and that lettuce so crisp and green!) then is poor human nature but too +prone to be querulous; we disagree, like the lobster, with our fellow +creatures; we are peevishly disposed to _nag_. "My mestur has been a +good husband to me," said one of the matrons of my flock, "but he can +chime in nasty when he wants to _nag_." + +Times of refinement are probably at hand when, under the sacred +influence of School Boards, the rural tongue shall cease to substitute +the word _no-at_ for nought, or nothing. I am not sorry that when that +epoch comes I shall no longer be attached to this machine. I cling to +those expressions, which I have heard from childhood: "He's like a +_no-at." "_He's up to _no-at_." One day, years ago, we waited for the +train at, not Coventry, but Ratcliffe-on-Trent, and while we waited a +weary workman, with his bag of tools on his back, came and sat on the +bench beside. Presently we were joined by a third person in the +garrulous phase of inebriety, and he pestered the tired artisan with his +_bosh_and _gibberish_ (two words which should have been introduced at an +earlier period of my history) until he provoked the righteous +expostulation, "Oh, don't bother me; you're drunk." Then, with an air of +outraged dignity, and with a stern solemnity, which, if he had not +wobbled in his gait and stammered in his utterance, might have suggested +the idea that he had just been appointed Professor of Philosophy for the +Midland Districts, he delivered an oration: "Now just you listen to me. +Do you suppose as a Mighty Power 'ud mak the barley to grow, and the +'ops to grow, and then put it into the minds of other parties to mak' +'em foment, and me not meant to drink 'em? why, you know _no-at_!" +Whereupon the apt rejoinder: "I know this--that a Mighty Power never +meant the barley to grow, nor the hops to grow, for you to take and turn +yoursen into a be-ast." + +_Nobbut_ is still common in these parts, in abbreviation of "nothing +but." I congratulated an invalid parishioner on the presence of the +doctor, and he said dolefully, "Oh yes, sir; thank yer, sir--but it's +_nobbut_ th' 'prentice." + +My limits do not allow me to mind my L's and Q's and R's, or I might +have enlarged upon such words as _palaver_, and _pawling_, and _peart_, +and _prod_, and_romper_, and _ramshackle_, and _rawm_; and I can only +dwell upon one selection from the S's, of which there is a long +Sigmatismus, such as _snag_ ("Billy and Sally's always at _snags_"), and +_scuft_, and _scrawl_ ("he wor' just a glass over the scrawl," _i.e._ +the line of sobriety), and _scrawm_, and _slape_, and _snigger_, and +_slive_ ("I see that _shack a-_sliving_ and a_-skulking about"), and +_slare_, and_slawmy_, and _sneck_, and _snoozle_, and _spank_, and +_stodge_, and _stunt_, and _swish_. + +The word which I would illustrate is _skimpy_. It signifies something +mean and defective; and in the following history, told to me by a +clerical friend, it refers to an attenuated and bony female. When a +curate in a remote country parish, he took a raw village lad into his +service, to train him for some better place; and, when his education was +sufficiently advanced, and he had made some progress in the art of +writing, he was permitted to accompany his master to a large +dinner-party given by a neighbouring squire. Next morning he +communicated his experiences to the housekeeper, and she treacherously +repeated them to my friend. "'Oh,' he said, 'it just wor' grand. Me and +t'other gentlemen in livery we stood i' th' 'all, and they flung open +folding-doors, and out comes the quality tu and tu, harm i' harm, all +a-talking and a-grinning, and as smart as ninepence. I wor' quite +surprised at mestur. He come out last of all, with a _skimpy_old woman. +I should say she wor' sisty off, and there were squire's daughter, +looking as bewtifle as bewtifle, and dressed up as gay as waxwork. I +never made no mistake, except giving one gentleman mustard wrong side, +and just a drop or so o' gravy down a hunbeknown young lady's back.'" I +have reached the length of my tether, and will go no longer a-_tweing_ +after words, lest I put my readers in a _tiff_, and leave them in a +_tantrum_. I will _yark_ off. Said an underkeeper who had just shot at a +snipe: "It _yarked_ up and screeted, and I nipped round and blazed; but +I catched my toe on a bit of a tussock, and so, consarn it, I missed." +Let me hope that I have not so completely failed in my aim, while firing +my small shot against certain abuses and disuses connected with The +Vulgar Tongue. + + +THE SCHOOLMASTER ABROAD WITH HIS SON +[Sidenote: _Calverley_] + + O what harper could worthily harp it, + Mine Edward! this wide-stretching wold + (Look out _wold_) with its wonderful carpet + Of emerald, purple, and gold? + Look well at it--also look sharp, it + Is getting so cold. + + The purple is heather _(erica)_; + The yellow, gorse--call'd sometimes "whin." + Cruel boys on its pickles might spike a + Green beetle as if on a pin, + You may roll in it, if you would like a + Few holes in your skin. + + You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you + Should be to the insects who crave + Your compassion--and then, look behind you + At yon barley-ears! Don't they look brave + As they undulate _(undulate_, mind you, + From _unda, a wave_). + + The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it + Sounds here--(on account of our height)! + And this hillock itself--who could paint it, + With its changes of shadow and light? + Is it not---(never, Eddy, say "ain't it")-- + A marvellous sight? + + Then yon desolate eerie morasses, + The haunts of the snipe and the hern-- + (I shall question the two upper classes + On _aquatiles_ when we return)-- + Why, I see on them absolute masses + Of _felix_, or fern. + + How it interests e'en a beginner + (Or _tiro_) like dear little Ned! + Is he listening? As I am a sinner, + He's asleep--he is wagging his head. + Wake up! I'll go home to my dinner, + And you to your bed. + + The boundless ineffable prairie; + The splendour of mountain and lake, + With their hues that seem ever to vary; + The mighty pine-forests which shake + In the wind, and in which the unwary + May tread on a snake; + + And this wold, with its heathery garment, + Are themes undeniably great. + But--although there is not any harm in't-- + It's perhaps little good to dilate + On their charms to a dull little varmint + Of seven or eight. + + +TARTARIN DE TARASCON +[Sidenote: _Daudet_] + +At the time of which I am speaking, Tartarin of Tarascon was not the +Tartarin that he is to-day, the great Tartarin of Tarascon, so popular +throughout the South of France. However--even then--he was already king +of Tarascon. + +Let me tell you whence this kingship. + +You must know, first, that every one there is a huntsman, from the +greatest to the smallest. + +So, every Sunday morning, Tarascon takes arms and leaves the walls, +game-bag on the back, gun on the shoulder, with a commotion of dogs, +ferrets, trumpets, and hunting-horns. It is a superb sight. +Unfortunately, game is wanting, absolutely wanting. + +However stupid animals may be, in the end they had become wary. + +For five leagues round Tarascon warrens are empty, nests deserted. Not a +thrush, not a quail, not the least little rabbit, not the smallest +leveret. + +And yet these pretty Tarascon hillocks are very tempting, perfumed with +myrtle, lavender, and rosemary; and these fine muscat grapes, swollen +with sweetness, which grow by the side of the Rhone, extremely +appetising too--yes, but there is Tarascon behind, and in the little +world of fur and feather Tarascon has an evil fame. The birds of passage +themselves have marked it with a big cross on their maps of the route, +and when the wild-ducks, descending towards Camargue in long triangles, +see the steeples of the town in the distance, the leader screams at the +top of his lungs, "There is Tarascon!--There is Tarascon!" and the whole +flight turns. + +In short, as far as game is concerned, only one old rogue of a hare +remains, who has escaped by some miracle from the September massacres of +the Tarasconners, and who insists on living there. In Tarascon this hare +is well known. They have given him a name. He is called "The Express." +It is known that his form is in M. Bompard's ground--which, by the way, +has doubled and even trebled its price--but so far no one has been able +to get at it. + +At the present moment there are one or two desperate fellows who have +set their hearts upon him. + +The others have made up their minds that it is hopeless, and "The +Express" has become a sort of local superstition, although the +Tarasconners are not very superstitious and eat swallows in a salmi when +they can get them. + +"But," you object, "if game is so rare in Tarascon, what do the Tarascon +sportsmen do every Sunday?" + +What do they do? + +Well, bless me! they go out into the open country two or three leagues +from the town. They gather into little groups of six or seven, stretch +themselves tranquilly in the shadow of an old wall, an olive-tree, take +out of their game-bags a great piece of beef seasoned with _daube_, some +uncooked onions, a large sausage, some anchovies, and begin an +interminable luncheon, moistened by one of those nice little Rhone wines +which make a man laugh and sing. + +After that, when one has laid in a good stock of provisions, one rises, +whistles the dogs, loads the guns, and the chase begins. That is to say, +each gentleman takes his cap, flings it into the air with all his might, +and fires at it. + +He who puts most shots into his cap is proclaimed king of the hunt, and +returns in the evening to Tarascon in triumph, with his peppered cap on +the end of his gun, amidst yappings and fanfares. + +Needless to say, there is a great trade of caps in the town. There are +even hatters who sell caps torn and full of holes for the use of the +clumsy. But hardly any one but Bezuquet, the chemist, buys them. It is +dishonouring! + +As a cap-hunter, Tartarin of Tarascon has no equal. Every Sunday morning +he starts with a new cap; every Sunday evening he returns with a rag. At +the little house with the baobab-tree the greenhouses were full of the +glorious trophies. For this reason all the Tarasconners recognised him +as their master, and as Tartarin knew the code of a sportsman through +and through, had read all the treatises, all the manuals of every +conceivable hunt, from the pursuit of caps to the pursuit of Bengal +tigers, these gentlemen made him their great sporting justicier, and +appointed him arbitrator in all their discussions. + +Every day, from three to four, at Costecalde's the gunsmith, a fat man +was to be seen, very grave, with a pipe between his teeth, sitting in a +chair covered with green leather, in the middle of a shop full of +cap-hunters, all standing and wrangling. It was Tartarin of Tarascon +administering justice, Nimrod added to Solomon. + + + +CONCERNING CHARLES LAMB + +PERSONS ONE WOULD WISH TO HAVE SEEN +[Sidenote: _William Hazlitt_] + +... "There is one person," said a shrill, querulous voice, "I would +rather see than all these--Don Quixote!" + +"Come, come!" said Hunt; "I thought we should have no heroes, real or +fabulous. What say you, Mr. Lamb? Are you for eking out your shadowy +list with such names as Alexander, Julius Caesar, Tamerlane, or Genghis +Khan?" + +"Excuse me," said Lamb; "on the subject of characters in active life, +plotters and disturbers of the world, I have a crotchet of my own, which +I beg leave to reserve." + +"No, no! come out with your worthies!" + +"What do you think of Guy Fawkes and Judas Iscariot?" + +Hunt turned an eye upon him like a wild Indian, but cordial and full of +smothered glee. "Your most exquisite reason!" was echoed on all sides; +and all thought that Lamb had now fairly entangled himself. + +"Why, I cannot but think," retorted he of the wistful countenance, "that +Guy Fawkes, that poor, fluttering, annual scarecrow of straw and rags, +is an ill-used gentleman. I would give something to see him sitting pale +and emaciated, surrounded by his matches and his barrels of gunpowder, +and expecting the moment that was to transport him to Paradise for his +heroic self-devotion; but if I say any more, there is that fellow Godwin +will make something of it. And as to Judas Iscariot, my reason is +different. I would fain see the face of him who, having dipped his hand +in the same dish with the Son of Man, could afterwards betray Him. I +have no conception of such a thing; nor have I ever seen any picture +(not even Leonardo's very fine one) that gave me the least idea of it." + +"You have said enough, Mr. Lamb, to justify your choice." + +"Oh! ever right, Menenius--ever right!" + +"There is only one person I can ever think of after this," continued +Lamb; but without mentioning a name that once put on a semblance of +mortality. "If Shakespeare was to come into the room, we should all rise +up to meet him; but if that person was to come into it, we should all +fall down and try to kiss the hem of his garment." + + +HAYDON'S IMMORTAL NIGHT +[Sidenote: _B.R. Haydon_] + +On December 28th the immortal dinner came off in my painting-room, with +Jerusalem towering up behind us as a background. Wordsworth was in fine +cue, and we had a glorious set-to--on Homer, Shakespeare, Milton, and +Virgil. Lamb got exceedingly merry and exquisitely witty; and his fun in +the midst of Wordsworth's solemn intonations of oratory was like the +sarcasm and wit of the fool in the intervals of Lear's passion. He made +a speech and voted me absent, and made them drink my health. "Now," said +Lamb, "you old lake poet, you rascally poet, why do you call Voltaire +dull?" We all defended Wordsworth, and affirmed there was a state of +mind when Voltaire would be dull. "Well," said Lamb, "here's +Voltaire--the Messiah of the French nation, and a very proper one too." + +He then, in a strain of humour beyond description, abused me for putting +Newton's head into my picture--"a fellow," said he, "who believed +nothing unless it was as clear as the three sides of a triangle." And +then he and Keats agreed he had destroyed all the poetry of the rainbow +by reducing it to the prismatic colours. It was impossible to resist +him, and we all drank "Newton's health, and confusion to mathematics." +It was delightful to see the good-humour of Wordsworth in giving in to +all our frolics without affectation, and laughing as heartily as the +best of us. + +By this time other friends joined, amongst them poor Ritchie, who was +going to penetrate by Fezzan to Timbuctoo. I introduced him to all as "a +gentleman going to Africa." Lamb seemed to take no notice; but all of a +sudden he roared out, "Which is the gentleman we are going to lose?" We +then drank the victim's health, in which Ritchie joined. + +In the morning of this delightful day, a gentleman, a perfect stranger, +had called on me. He said he knew my friends, had an enthusiasm for +Wordsworth, and begged I would procure him the happiness of an +introduction. He told me he was a comptroller of stamps, and often had +correspondence with the poet. I thought it a liberty; but still, as he +seemed a gentleman, I told him he might come. + +When we retired to tea we found the comptroller. Introducing him to +Wordsworth, I forgot to say who he was. After a little time the +comptroller looked down, looked up and said to Wordsworth, "Don't you +think, sir, Milton was a great genius?" Keats looked at me, Wordsworth +looked at the comptroller. Lamb, who was dozing by the fire, turned +round and said, "Pray, sir, did you say Milton was a great genius?" "No, +sir; I asked Mr. Wordsworth if he were not." "Oh," said Lamb, "then you +are a silly fellow." "Charles! my dear Charles!" said Wordsworth; but +Lamb, perfectly innocent of the confusion he had created, was off again +by the fire. + +After an awful pause the comptroller said, "Don't you think Newton a +great genius?" I could not stand it any longer. Keats put his head into +my books. Ritchie squeezed in a laugh. Wordsworth seemed asking himself, +"Who is this?" Lamb got up, and, taking a candle, said, "Sir, will you +allow me to look at your phrenological development?" He then turned his +back on the poor man, and at every question of the comptroller he +chaunted: + + "Diddle diddle dumpling, my son John, + Went to bed with his breeches on." + +The man in office, finding Wordsworth did not know who he was, said in a +spasmodic and half-chuckling anticipation of assured victory, "I have +had the honour of some correspondence with you, Mr. Wordsworth." "With +me, sir?" said Wordsworth, "not that I remember." "Don't you, sir? I am +a comptroller of stamps." There was a dead silence--the comptroller +evidently thinking that was enough. While we were waiting for +Wordsworth's reply, Lamb sung out: + + "Hey diddle fiddle, + The cat and the fiddle." + +"My dear Charles!" said Wordsworth-- + + "Diddle, diddle dumpling, my son John"-- + +chaunted Lamb, and then, rising, exclaimed, "Do let me have another look +at that gentleman's organs." Keats and I hurried Lamb into the +painting-room, shut the door, and gave way to inextinguishable laughter. +Monkhouse followed and tried to get Lamb away. We went back, but the +comptroller was irreconcilable. We soothed and smiled and asked him to +supper. He stayed, though his dignity was sorely affected. However, +being a good-natured man, we parted all in good-humour, and no ill +effects followed. + +All the while, until Monkhouse succeeded, we could hear Lamb struggling +in the painting-room and calling at intervals, "Who is that fellow? +Allow me to see his organs once more." + +It was indeed an immortal evening. Wordsworth's fine intonation as he +quoted Milton and Virgil, Keats's eager, inspired look, Lamb's quaint +sparkle of lambent humour, so speeded the stream of conversation that in +my life I never passed a more delightful time. All our fun was within +bounds. Not a word passed that an apostle might not have listened to. It +was a night worthy of the Elizabethan age. + + +"SIXPENNY JOKES" +[Sidenote: _Charles Lamb_] + +There is no _virtue_ like _necessity_, says the proverb. If that be +true, what a quantity of _virtue_ there must be among the lower orders +of people in this country! + + * * * * * + +A _bench_ of Justices certainly gives us an idea of something _wooden_. +Shakespeare, in his Seven Ages, represents a Justice as made up with +saws. + + * * * * * + +Locke compares the mind of a new-born infant to a sheet of white paper +not yet written on. It must be confessed that, whoever wrote upon Mr. +A----n's mind has left _large margins._ + + +TO HIS BROTHER +[Sidenote: _Keats_] + +The thought of your little girl puts me in mind of a thing I heard Mr. +Lamb say. A child in arms was passing by his chair towards the mother in +the nurse's arms. Lamb took hold of the long-clothes, saying, "Where, +God bless me, where does it leave off?" + + +LAMB'S TASK +[Sidenote: _Charles Lamb_] + +In those days every morning paper, as an essential retainer to its +establishment, kept an author, who was bound to furnish daily a quantum +of witty paragraphs. Sixpence a joke--and it was thought pretty high +too--was Dan Stuart's settled remuneration in these cases. The chat of +the day, scandal, but, above all, _dress_, furnished the material. The +length of no paragraph was to exceed seven lines. Shorter they might be, +but they must be poignant. + +A fashion of _flesh_-, or rather _pink_-coloured hose for the ladies, +luckily coming in at this juncture, when we were on our probation for +the place of Chief Jester to S----'s paper, established our reputation +in that line. We were pronounced a "capital hand." Oh the conceits which +we varied upon _red_ in all its prismatic differences! from the trite +and obvious flower of Cytherea to the flaming costume of the lady that +has her sitting upon "many waters." Then there was the collateral topic +of ankles. What an occasion to a truly chaste writer, like ourself, of +touching that nice brink, and yet never tumbling over it, of a seemingly +ever approximating something "not quite proper," while, like a skilful +posture-maker, balancing betwixt decorums and their opposites, he keeps +the line, from which a hair's-breadth deviation is destruction; hovering +in the confines of light and darkness, or where "both seem either"; a +hazy uncertain delicacy; Autolycus-like in the play, still putting off +his expectant auditory with "Whoop, do me no harm, good man!" But, above +all, that conceit arrided us most at that time, and still tickles our +midriff to remember, where, allusively to the flight of Astrae--_ultima +Coelestum terras reliquit_--we pronounced--in reference to the stockings +still--that _Modesty taking her final leave of Mortals, her last blush +was visible in her ascent to the Heavens by the tract of the glowing +instep._ This might be called the crowning conceit; and was esteemed +tolerable writing in those days. + +But the fashion of jokes, with all other things, passes away; as did the +transient mode which had so favoured us. The ankles of our fair friends +in a few weeks began to reassume their whiteness, and left us scarce a +leg to stand upon. Other female whims followed, but none, methought, so +pregnant, so invitatory of shrewd conceits, and more than single +meanings. + +Somebody has said that, to swallow six cross-buns daily consecutively +for a fortnight would surfeit the stoutest digestion. But to have to +furnish as many jokes daily, and that not for a fortnight, but for a +long twelvemonth, as we were constrained to do, was a little harder +execution. "Man goeth forth to his work until the evening"--from a +reasonable hour in the morning, we presume it was meant. Now, as our +main occupation took us up from eight till five every day in the City; +and as our evening hours, at that time of life, had generally to do with +anything rather than business, it follows that the only time we could +spare for this manufactory of jokes--our supplementary livelihood, that +supplied us in every want beyond mere bread and cheese--was exactly that +part of the day which (as we have heard of No Man's Land) may be fitly +denominated No Man's Time; that is, no time in which a man ought to be +up, and awake, in. To speak more plainly, it is that time, of an hour, +or an hour and a half's duration, in which a man whose occasions call +him up so preposterously has to wait for his breakfast. + +Oh those headaches at dawn of day, when at five, or half-past five in +summer, and not much later in the dark seasons, we were compelled to +rise, having been perhaps not above four hours in bed--(for we were no +go-to-beds with the lamb, though we anticipated the lark ofttimes in her +rising--we liked a parting up at midnight, as all young men did before +these effeminate times, and to have our friends about us--we were not +constellated under Aquarius, that watery sign, and therefore incapable +of Bacchus, cold washy, bloodless--we were none of your Basilian +water-sponges, nor had taken our degrees at Mount Ague--we were right +toping Capulets, jolly companions, we and they),--but to have to get up, +as we said before, curtailed of half our fair sleep, fasting, with only +a dim vista of refreshing Bohea in the distance--to be necessitated to +rouse ourselves at the detestable rap of an hag of a domestic, who +seemed to take a diabolical pleasure in her announcement that it was +"time to rise"; and whose chappy knuckles we have often yearned to +amputate, and string them up at our chamber-door, to be a terror to all +such unreasonable rest-breakers in future-- + +"Facil" and sweet, as Virgil sings, had been the "descending" of the +over-night, balmy the first sinking of the heavy head upon the pillow; +but to get up, as he goes on to say-- + + Revocare gradus, superasque evadere ad auras + +--and to get up, moreover, to make jokes with malice prepended--there +was the "labour," there the "work." + +No Egyptian taskmaster ever devised a slavery like to that, our slavery. +No fractious operants ever turned out for half the tyranny which this +necessity exercised upon us. Half a dozen jests in a day (bating Sundays +too), why, it seems nothing! We make twice the number every day in our +lives as a matter of course, and claim no Sabbatical exemptions. But +then they come into our head. But when the head has to go out to +them--when the mountain must go to Mahomet-- + +Reader, try it for once, only for one short twelvemonth. + +It was not every week that a fashion of pink stockings came up; but +mostly, instead of it, some rugged, untractable subject; some topic +impossible to be contorted into the risible; some feature, upon which no +smile could play; some flint, from which no process of ingenuity could +procure a distillation. There they lay; there your appointed tale of +brick-making was set before you, which you must finish, with or without +straw, as it happened. The craving Dragon--_the Public_--like him in +Bel's temple--must be fed; it expected its daily rations; and Daniel, +and ourselves, to do us justice, did the best we could on this side +bursting him. + + +MISS PATE +[Sidenote: _M.M. Betham_] + +A Miss Pate (when he heard of her, he asked if she was any relation to +Mr. John _Head_, of Ipswich) was at a party, and he said, on hearing her +name, "Miss Pate I hate." "You are the first person who ever told me so, +however," said she. "Oh! I mean nothing by it. If it had been Miss Dove, +I should have said, Miss Dove I love, or Miss Pike I like." ... Another, +who was very much marked with the small-pox, looked as if the devil had +ridden roughshod over her face. I saw him talking to her afterwards +with great apparent interest, and noticed it, saying, "I thought he had +not liked her." His reply was, "I like her internals very well." + + +THE LOST ORNAMENT +[Sidenote: _Washington Allston_] + +Lamb was present when a naval officer was giving an account of an action +which he had been in, and, to illustrate the carelessness and disregard +of life at such times, said that a sailor had both his legs shot off, +and as his shipmates were carrying him below, another shot came and took +off his arms; they, thinking he was pretty much used up, though life was +still in him, threw him out of a port. "Shame, d----d shame," stuttered +our Lamb, "he m-m-might have l-lived to have been an a-a-ornament to +Society!" + + +YOUR HAT, SIR +[Sidenote: _Crabb Robinson_] + +I dined at Lamb's, and then walked with him to Highgate, self-invited. +There we found a large party. Mr. and Mrs. Green, the Aderses, Irving, +Collins, R.A., a Mr. Taylor, a young man of talents in the Colonial +Office, Basil Montagu, a Mr. Chance, and one or two others. It was a +_rich_ evening. Coleridge talked his best, and it appeared better +because he and Irving supported the same doctrines. His superiority was +striking. The idea dwelt on was the higher character of the internal +evidence of Christianity, as addressed to our immediate consciousness of +our own wants and the necessity of a religion and a revelation. In a +style not to me clear or intelligible, Irving and Coleridge both +declaimed. The _advocatus diaboli_ for the evening was Mr. Taylor, who, +in a way very creditable to his manners as a gentleman, but with little +more than verbal cleverness, and an ordinary logic, and the confidence +of a young man who has no suspicion of his own deficiencies, affirmed +that those evidences which the Christian thinks he finds in his internal +convictions, the Mahometan also thinks he has; and he affirmed that +Mahomet had improved the condition of mankind. Lamb asked him whether he +came in a turban or a hat. + + +ELIA'S TAIL +[Sidenote: _J.B._] + +When I first knew Charles Lamb, I ventured, one evening, to say +something that I intended should pass for wit. "Ha! very well; very +well, indeed!" said he. "Ben Jonson has said worse things" (I brightened +up, but he went stammering on to the end of the +sentence)--"and--and--and _better_!" A pinch of snuff concluded this +compliment, which put a stop to my wit for the evening. I related the +thing to Hazlitt, afterwards, who laughed. "Aye," said he, "you are +never sure of him till he gets to the end. His jokes would be the +sharpest things in the world, but that they are blunted by his +good-nature. He wants malice--which is a pity." "But," said I, "his +words at first seemed so--" "Oh! as for that," replied Hazlitt, "his +sayings are generally like women's letters: all the pith is in the +postscript." + + +CHARLES AND HIS SISTER +[Sidenote: _Mrs. Balmanno_] + +Miss Lamb, although many years older than her brother, by no means +looked so, but presented the pleasant appearance of a mild, rather +stout, and comely maiden lady of middle age. Dressed with quaker-like +simplicity in dove-coloured silk, with a transparent kerchief of +snow-white muslin folded across her bosom, she at once prepossessed the +beholder in her favour by an aspect of serenity and peace. Her manners +were very quiet and gentle, and her voice low. She smiled frequently, +but seldom laughed, partaking of the courtesies and hospitalities of her +merry host and hostess with all the cheerfulness and grace of a most +mild and kindly nature. + +Her behaviour to her brother was like that of an admiring disciple; her +eyes seldom absent from his face. Even when apparently engrossed in +conversation with others, she would, by supplying some word for which +he was at a loss, even when talking in a distant part of the room, show +how closely her mind waited upon his. Mr. Lamb was in high spirits, +sauntering about the room, with his hands crossed behind his back, +conversing by fits and starts with those most familiarly known to him, +but evidently mentally acknowledging Miss Kelly to be the _rara avis_ of +his thoughts, by the great attention he paid to every word she uttered. +Truly pleasant it must have been to her, even though accustomed to see +people listen breathless with admiration while she spoke, to find her +words have so much charm for such a man as Charles Lamb. + +He appeared to enjoy himself greatly, much to the gratification of Mrs. +Hood, who often interchanged happy glances with Miss Lamb, who nodded +approvingly. He spoke much--with emphasis and hurry of words, sorely +impeded by the stammering utterance which in him was not unattractive. +Miss Kelly (charming, natural Miss Kelly, who has drawn from her +audiences more heart-felt tears and smiles than perhaps any other +English actress), with quiet good-humour listened and laughed at the +witty sallies of her host and his gifted friend, seeming as little an +actress as it is possible to conceive. Once, however, when some allusion +was made to a comic scene in a new play then just brought out, wherein +she had performed to the life the character of a low-bred lady's-maid +passing herself off as her mistress, Miss Kelly arose, and with a kind +of resistless ardour repeated a few sentences so inimitably that +everybody laughed as much as if the real lady's-maid, and not the +actress, had been before them; while she who had so well personated the +part quietly resumed her seat without the least sign of merriment, as +grave as possible. Most striking had been the transition from the calm, +lady-like person, to the gay, loquacious soubrette; and not less so the +sudden extinction of vivacity and resumption of well-bred decorum. This +little scene for a few moments charmed everybody out of themselves, and +gave a new impetus to conversation.... + +Mr. Lamb oddly walked all round the table, looking closely at any dish +that struck his fancy before he would decide where to sit, telling Mrs. +Hood that he should by that means know how to select some dish that was +difficult to carve, and take the trouble off her hands; accordingly, +having jested in this manner, he placed himself with great deliberation +before a lobster-salad, observing _that_ was the thing. On her asking +him to take some roast fowl, he assented. "What part shall I help you +to, Mr. Lamb?" "Back," said he quickly; "I always prefer the back." My +husband laid down his knife and fork, and, looking upwards, exclaimed: +"By heavens! I could not have believed it, if anybody else had sworn +it." "Believed what?" said kind Mrs. Hood, anxiously, colouring to the +temples, and fancying there was something amiss in the piece he had +been helped to. "Believe what? why, madam, that Charles Lamb was a +backbiter?" Hood gave one of his short, quick laughs, gone almost ere it +had come, whilst Lamb went off into a loud fit of mirth, exclaiming: +"Now, that's devilish good! I'll sup with you to-morrow night." This +eccentric flight made everybody very merry, and amidst a most amusing +mixture of wit and humour, sense and nonsense, we feasted merrily, +amidst jocose health-drinking, sentiments, speeches, and songs. + +Mr. Hood, with inexpressible gravity in the upper part of his face and +his mouth twitching with smiles, sang his own comic song, "If you go to +France, be sure you learn the lingo," his pensive manner and feeble +voice making it doubly ludicrous. Mr. Lamb, on being pressed to sing, +excused himself in his own peculiar manner, but offered to pronounce a +Latin eulogium instead. This was accepted, and he accordingly stammered +forth a string of Latin words; among which, as the name of Mrs. Hood +frequently occurred, we ladies thought it was in praise of her. The +delivery of his speech occupied about five minutes. On inquiring of a +gentleman who sat next to me whether Mr. Lamb was praising Mrs. Hood, he +informed me that it was by no means the case, the eulogium being on the +lobster-salad! + + +IN A COACH +[Sidenote: _Charles Lamb_] + +The incidents of our journey were trifling, but you bade me tell them. +We had, then, in the coach a rather talkative gentleman, but very civil, +all the way, and took up a servant-maid at Stamford, going to a sick +mistress.... The _former_ engaged me in a discourse for full twenty +miles on the probable advantages of Steam Carriages, which, being merely +problematical, I bore my part in with some credit, in spite of my +totally un-engineer-like faculties. But when, somewhere about Stanstead, +he put an unfortunate question tome as to the "probability of its +turning out a good turnip season," and when I, who am still less of an +agriculturist than a steam-philosopher, not knowing a turnip from a +potato-ground, innocently made answer that I believed it depended very +much upon boiled legs of mutton, my unlucky reply set Miss Isola +a-laughing to a degree that disturbed her tranquillity for the only +moment in our journey. I am afraid my credit sank very low with my other +fellow-traveller, who had thought he had met with a _well-informed +passenger_, which is an accident so desirable in a stage coach. We were +rather less communicative, but still friendly, the rest of the way. + + +KING DAVID AND THE GARDENER +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + Vrom readin' Scripture well Oi knows + Pzalmist 'e had na rest vrom voes; + Vor po-or ole Dave gre-at pits they'd delve, + An' then, dam loons, vail in theirselve. + This iz ma readin' ov the Book, + An' to ma self do mak' me look; + Wi' dew respeck, Oi veel loike him, + Tho' later born, and deal more slim. + + Vor ev'ry day, wi' buzz an' hum, + Into ma garden voes do come; + The waspies starm ma gabled wall + An' into t' trenches t' grub do crawl. + The blackbird, sparrer, tit, an' thrush + Do commandeer each curran' bush, + While slugs off lettuce take their smack, + And maggots turn the celery black. + + Wi' greenfly zlimin' roun' ma roses, + An' earwigs pokin' be-astly noses + In dahlias vit vor virst at Show, + Oi ha' ma troubles, as yew may know; + But Dave did circumwent the Devil, + An' wi' ma insecks Oi get level, + Lard! wi' what piety Oi tend 'em, + An' wi' ma boot rejoicin' end 'em! + + Zo, maister gets his dish o' peas, + An' mum her roses, if yew please, + But, lawks, they little knaw, Oi 'speck, + What Oi've laid out in intelleck; + But Dave got little praise vrom man, + An' as Oi ta-ake ma wat'rin'-can, + Oi zays, zays Oi, next world wull show + Who wuz tip-tappers here below. + + +THE CALAIS NIGHT-BOAT +[Sidenote: _Charles Dickens_] + +It is an unsettled question with me whether I shall leave Calais +something handsome in my will, or whether I shall leave it my +malediction. I hate it so much, and yet I am always so very glad to see +it, that I am in a state of constant indecision on this subject. When I +first made acquaintance with Calais it was as a maundering young wretch +in a clammy perspiration and dripping saline particles, who was +conscious of no extremities but the one great extremity, +sea-sickness--who was a mere bilious torso, with a mislaid headache +somewhere in its stomach--who had been put into a horrible swing in +Dover Harbour, and had tumbled giddily out of it on the French coast, or +the Isle of Man, or anywhere. Times have changed, and now I enter Calais +self-reliant and rational. I know where it is beforehand, I keep a +look-out for it, I recognise its landmarks when I see any of them, I am +acquainted with its ways, and I know--and I can bear--its worst +behaviour. + +Malignant Calais! Low-lying alligator, evading the eye-sight and +discouraging hope! Dodging flat streak, now on this bow, now on that, +now anywhere, now everywhere, now nowhere! In vain Cape Grinez, coming +frankly forth into the sea, exhorts the failing to be stout of heart and +stomach; sneaking Calais, prone behind its bar, invites emetically to +despair. Even when it can no longer quite conceal itself in its muddy +dock, it has an evil way of falling off, has Calais, which is more +hopeless than its invisibility. The pier is all but on the bowsprit and +you think you are there--roll, roar, wash!--Calais has retired miles +inland, and Dover has burst out to look for it. It has a last dip and +slide in its character, has Calais, to be specially commended to the +infernal gods. Thrice accursed be that garrison-town, when it dives +under the boat's keel, and comes up a league or two to the right, with +the packet shivering and spluttering and staring about for it! + +Not but what I have my animosities towards Dover. I particularly detest +Dover for the self-complacency with which it goes to bed. It always goes +to bed (when I am going to Calais) with a more brilliant display of lamp +and candle than any other town. Mr. and Mrs. Birmingham, host and +hostess of the Lord Warden Hotel, are my much-esteemed friends, but they +are too conceited about the comforts of that establishment when the +Night Mail is starting. I know it is a good house to stay at, and I +don't want the fact insisted upon in all its warm bright windows at such +an hour. I know the Warden is a stationary edifice that never rolls or +pitches, and I object to its big outline seeming to insist upon that +circumstance, and, as it were, to come over me with it, when I am +reeling on the deck of the boat. Beshrew the Warden likewise for +obstructing that corner, and making the wind so angry as it rushes +round. Shall I not know that it blows quite soon enough, without the +officious Warden's interference? + +As I wait here on board the night-packet, for the South-Eastern train to +come down with the mail, Dover appears to me to be illuminated for some +intensely aggravating festivity in my personal dishonour. All its noises +smack of taunting praises of the land, and dispraises of the gloomy sea, +and of me for going on it. The drums upon the heights have gone to bed, +or I know they would rattle taunts against me for having my unsteady +footing on this slippery deck. The many gas-eyes of the Marine Parade +twinkle in an offensive manner, as if with derision. The distant dogs of +Dover bark at me in my misshapen wrappers, as if I were Richard the +Third. + +A screech, a bell, and two red eyes come gliding down the Admiralty Pier +with a smoothness of motion rendered more smooth by the heaving of the +boat. The sea makes noises against the pier, as if several hippopotami +were lapping at it, and were prevented by circumstances over which they +have no control from drinking peaceably. We, the boat, become violently +agitated--rumble, hum, scream, roar--and establish an immense family +washing-day at each paddle-box. Bright patches break out in the train as +the doors of the post-office vans are opened, and instantly stooping +figures with sacks upon their backs begin to be beheld among the piles, +descending as it would seem in ghostly procession to Davy Jones's +Locker. The passengers come on board; a few shadowy Frenchmen, with +hatboxes shaped like the stoppers of gigantic case-bottles; a few +shadowy Germans in immense fur coats and boots; a few shadowy Englishmen +prepared for the worst and pretending not to expect it. I cannot +disguise from my uncommercial mind the miserable fact that we are a body +of outcasts; that the attendants on us are as scant in number as may +serve to get rid of us with the least possible delay; that there are no +night-loungers interested in us; that the unwilling lamps shiver and +shudder at us; that the sole object is to commit us to the deep and +abandon us. Lo, the two red eyes glaring in increasing distance, and +then the very train itself has gone to bed before we are off! What is +the moral support derived by some sea-going amateurs from an umbrella? +Why do certain voyagers across the Channel always put up that article, +and hold it up with a grim and fierce tenacity? A fellow-creature near +me--whom I only know to be a fellow-creature because of his umbrella: +without which he might be a dark bit of cliff, pier, or +bulkhead--clutches that instrument with a desperate grasp that will not +relax until he lands at Calais. Is there an analogy, in certain +constitutions, between keeping an umbrella up and keeping the spirits +up? A hawser thrown on board with a flop replies, "Stand by!" "Stand by, +below!" "Half a turn ahead!" "Half a turn ahead!" "Half speed!" "Half +speed!" "Port!" "Port!" "Steady!" "Steady!" "Go on!" "Go on!" + +A stout wooden wedge driven in at my right temple and out at my left, a +floating deposit of lukewarm oil in my throat, and a compression of the +bridge of my nose in a blunt pair of pincers--these are the personal +sensations by which I know we are off, and by which I shall continue to +know it until I am on the soil of France. My symptoms have scarcely +established themselves comfortably, when two or three skating shadows +that have been trying to walk or stand, get flung together, and other +two or three shadows in tarpaulin slide with them into corners and cover +them up. Then the South Foreland lights begin to hiccup at us in a way +that bodes no good. + +It is at about this period that my detestation of Calais knows no +bounds. Inwardly I resolve afresh that I never will forgive that hateful +town. I have done so before, many times, but that is past. Let me +register a vow. Implacable animosity to Calais everm--that was an +awkward sea, and the funnel seems of my opinion, for it gives a +complaining roar. + +The wind blows stiffly from the nor'-east, the sea runs high, we ship a +deal of water, the night is dark and cold, and the shapeless passengers +lie about in melancholy bundles, as if they were sorted out for the +laundress; but, for my own uncommercial part, I cannot pretend that I +am much inconvenienced by any of these things. A general howling, +whistling, flopping, gurgling, and scooping, I am aware of, and a +general knocking about of Nature; but the impressions I receive are very +vague. In a sweet, faint temper, something like the smell of damaged +oranges, I think I should feel languidly benevolent if I had time. I +have not time, because I am under a curious compulsion to occupy myself +with Irish melodies. "Rich and rare were the gems she wore," is the +particular melody to which I find myself devoted. I sing it to myself in +the most charming manner and with the greatest expression. Now and then +I raise my head (I am sitting on the hardest of wet seats, in the most +uncomfortable of wet attitudes, but I don't mind it) and notice that I +am a whirling shuttle-cock between a fiery battledore of a lighthouse on +the French coast and a fiery battledore of a lighthouse on the English +coast; but I don't notice it particularly, except to feel envenomed in +my hatred of Calais. Then I go on again, "Rich and rare were the ge-ems +she-e-e-e wore, And a bright gold ring on her wa-and she bo-ore, But O +her beauty was fa-a-a-r beyond"--I am particularly proud of my execution +here, when I become aware of another awkward shock from the sea, and +another protest from the funnel, and a fellow-creature at the paddle-box +more audibly indisposed than I think he need be--"Her sparkling gems, or +snow-white wand, But O her beauty was fa-a-a-a-a-r beyond"--another +awkward one here, and the fellow creature with the umbrella down and +picked up--"Her spa-a-arkling ge-ems, or her Port! port! steady! steady! +snow-white fellow-creature at the paddle-box very selfishly audible, +bump roar wash white wand." + +As my execution of the Irish melodies partakes of my imperfect +perceptions of what is going on around me, so what is going on around me +becomes something else than what it is. The stokers open the +furnace-doors below, to feed the fires, and I am again on the box of the +old Exeter Telegraph fast coach, and that is the light of the +for-ever-extinguished coach-lamps, and the gleam on the hatches and +paddle-boxes is _their_ gleam on cottages and haystacks, and the +monotonous noise of the engines is the steady jingle of the splendid +team. Anon, the intermittent funnel-roar of protest at every violent +roll becomes the regular blast of the high-pressure engine, and I +recognise the exceedingly explosive steamer in which I ascended the +Mississippi when the American Civil War was not, and when only its +causes were. A fragment of mast on which the light of a lantern falls, +an end of rope, and a jerking block or so become suggestive of +Franconi's Circus in Paris, where I shall be this very night mayhap (for +it must be morning now), and they dance to the selfsame time and tune as +the trained steed, Black Raven. What may be the speciality of these +waves as they come rushing on I cannot desert the pressing demands made +upon me by the gems she wore, to inquire, but they are charged with +something about Robinson Crusoe, and I think it was in Yarmouth Roads +that he first went a-seafaring and near foundering (what a terrific +sound that word had for me when I was a boy!) in his first gale of wind. +Still, through all this, I must ask her (who _was_ she, I wonder!) for +the fiftieth time, and without ever stopping, Does she not fear to +stray, so lone and lovely through this bleak way, And are Erin's sons so +good or so cold, As not to be tempted by more fellow-creatures at the +paddle-box or gold? Sir Knight, I feel not the least alarm, No son of +Erin will offer me harm, For though they love fellow creatures with +umbrella down again and golden store, Sir Knight, they--what a +tremendous one!--love honour and virtue more: For though they love +stewards with a bull's-eye bright, they'll trouble you for your ticket, +sir--rough passage to-night! + +I freely admit it to be a miserable piece of human weakness and +inconsistency, but I no sooner become conscious of those last words from +the steward than I begin to soften towards Calais. Whereas I have been +vindictively wishing that those Calais burghers who came out of their +town by a short cut into the History of England, with those fatal ropes +round their necks by which they have since been towed into so many +cartoons, had all been hanged on the spot, I now begin to regard them as +highly respectable and virtuous tradesmen. Looking about me, I see the +light of Cape Grinez well astern of the boat on the davits to leeward, +and the light of Calais Harbour undeniably at its old tricks, but still +ahead and shining. Sentiments of forgiveness of Calais, not to say of +attachment to Calais, begin to expand my bosom. I have weak notions that +I will stay there a day or two on my way back. A faded and recumbent +stranger, pausing in a profound reverie over the rim of a basin, asked +me what kind of place Calais is? I tell him (Heaven forgive me!) a very +agreeable place indeed--rather hilly than otherwise. + +So strangely goes the time, and on the whole so quickly--though still I +seem to have been on board a week--that I am bumped, rolled, gurgled, +washed, and pitched into Calais Harbour before her maiden smile has +finally lighted her through the Green Isle. When blest for ever is she +who relied On entering Calais at the top of the tide. For we have not to +land to-night down among those slimy timbers--covered with green hair as +if it were the mermaid's favourite combing-place--where one crawls to +the surface of the jetty, like a stranded shrimp; but we go steaming up +the harbour to the Railway-station Quay. And, as we go, the sea washes +in and out among the piles and planks with dead, heavy beats and in +quite a furious manner (whereof we are proud), and the lamps shake in +the wind, and the bells of Calais striking One seem to send their +vibrations struggling against troubled air, as we have come struggling +against troubled water. And now, in the sudden relief and wiping of +faces, everybody on board seems to have had a prodigious double-tooth +out, and to be this very instant free of the dentist's hands. And now we +all know for the first time how wet and cold we are, and how salt we +are; and now I love Calais with my heart of hearts! + +"Hotel Dessin!" (but in this one case it is not a vocal cry; it is but a +bright lustre in the eyes of the cheery representative of that best of +inns). "Hotel Meurice!" "Hotel de France!" "Hotel de Calais!" "The Royal +Hotel, sir, Anglaishe 'ouse!" "You going to Parry, sir?" "Your baggage, +registair free, sir?" Bless ye, my Touters; bless ye, my +commissionaires; bless ye, my hungry-eyed mysteries in caps of military +form, who are always here, day or night, fair weather or foul, seeking +inscrutable jobs which I never see you get! Bless ye, my Custom-house +officers in green and grey; permit me to grasp the welcome hands that +descend into my travelling-bag, one on each side, and meet at the bottom +to give my change of linen a peculiar shake-up, as if it were a measure +of chaff or grain! I have nothing to declare, Monsieur le Douanier, +except that, when I cease to breathe, Calais will be found written on my +heart. No article liable to local duty have I with me, Monsieur +l'Officier de l'Octroi, unless the overflowing of a breast devoted to +your charming town should be in that wise chargeable. Ah! see at the +gangway by the twinkling lantern my dearest brother and friend, he once +of the Passport Office, he who collects the names! May he be for ever +changeless in his buttoned black boat-surtout, with his note-book in his +hand, and his tall black hat surmounting his round, smiling, patient +face! Let us embrace, my dearest brother. I am yours _a tout +jamais_--for the whole of ever. + +Calais up and doing at the railway-station, and Calais down and dreaming +in its bed; Calais with something of "an ancient and fish-like smell" +about it, and Calais blown and sea-washed pure; Calais represented at +the Buffet by savoury roast fowls, hot coffee, cognac, and Bordeaux; and +Calais represented everywhere by flitting persons with a monomania for +changing money--though I never shall be able to understand, in my +present state of existence, how they live by it; but I suppose I should, +if I understood the currency question; Calais _en gros_ and Calais _en +detail_, forgive one who has deeply wronged you,--I was not fully aware +of it on the other side, but I meant Dover. + +Ding, ding! To the carriages, gentlemen the travellers. Ascend then, +gentlemen the travellers, for Hazebroucke, Lille, Douai, Bruxelles, +Arras, Amiens, and Paris! I, humble representative of the uncommercial +interest, ascend with the rest. The train is light to-night, and I share +my compartment with but two fellow-travellers; one, a compatriot in an +obsolete cravat, who thinks it a quite unaccountable thing that they +don't keep "London time" on a French railway, and who is made angry by +my modestly suggesting the possibility of Paris time being more in their +way; the other, a young priest, with a very small bird in a very small +cage, who feeds the small bird with a quill, and then puts him up in the +network above his head, where he advances twittering to his front wires, +and seems to address me in an electioneering manner. The compatriot (who +crossed in the boat, and whom I judge to be some person of distinction, +as he was shut up, like a stately species of rabbit, in a private hutch +on deck) and the young priest (who joined us at Calais) are soon asleep, +and then the bird and I have it all to ourselves.... + + +LETTERS +[Sidenote: _Walter Bagehot_] + +The complete letter-writer is now an unknown animal. In the last +century, when communications were difficult, and epistles rare, there +were a great many valuable people who devoted a good deal of time to +writing elaborate letters. You wrote letters to a man whom you knew +nineteen years and a half ago, and told him what you had for dinner, and +what your second cousin said, and how the crops got on. Every detail of +life was described and dwelt on, and improved. The art of writing, at +least of writing easily, was comparatively rare, which kept the number +of such compositions within narrow limits. Sir Walter Scott says he knew +a man who remembered that the London post-bag once came to Edinburgh +with only one letter in it. One can fancy the solemn, conscientious +elaborateness with which a person would write, with the notion that his +letter would have a whole coach and a whole bag to itself, and travel +two hundred miles alone, the exclusive object of a red guard's care. The +only thing like it now--the deferential minuteness with which one public +office writes to another, conscious that the letter will travel on her +Majesty's service three doors down the passage--sinks by comparison into +cursory brevity. + +No administrative reform will be able to bring even the official mind of +these days into the grave inch-an-hour conscientiousness with which a +confidential correspondent of a century ago related the growth of +apples, the manufacture of jams, the appearance of flirtations, and +other such-like things. All the ordinary incidents of an easy life were +made the most of; a party was epistolary capital, a race a mine of +wealth. So deeply sentimental was this intercourse that it was much +argued whether the affections were created for the sake of ink, or ink +for the sake of the affections. Thus it continued for many years, and +the fruits thereof are written in the volumes of family papers, which +daily appear, are prized as "materials for the historian," and +consigned, as the case may be, to posterity or oblivion. All this has +now passed away. Mr. Rowland Hill is entitled to the credit, not only of +introducing stamps, but also of destroying letters. + + +THE TRAGEDY +[Sidenote: _Ingoldsby_] + + Quaeque ipse miserrima vidi.--_Virgil_ + + Catherine of Cleves was a Lady of rank, + She had lands and fine houses, and cash in the bank; + She had jewels and rings, And a thousand smart things; + Was lovely and young, With a rather sharp tongue, + And she wedded a Noble of high degree + With the star of the order of _St. Esprit_; + But the Duke de Guise Was, by many degrees, + Her senior, and not very easy to please; + He'd a sneer on his lip, and a scowl with his eye, + And a frown on his brow,--and he look'd like a Guy,-- + So she took to intriguing With Monsieur St. Megrin, + A young man of fashion, and figure, and worth, + But with no great pretensions to fortune or birth; + He would sing, fence, and dance + With the best man in France, + And took his rappee with genteel _nonchalance_; + He smiled, and he flattered, and flirted with ease, + And was very superior to Monseigneur de Guise. + Now Monsieur St. Megrin was curious to know + If the lady approved of his passion or no; + So without more ado, He put on his _surtout_, + And went to a man with a beard like a Jew, + One Signor Ruggieri, A cunning man near, he + Could conjure, tell fortunes, and calculate tides, + Perform tricks on the cards, and Heaven knows what besides, + Bring back a stray'd cow, silver ladle, or spoon, + And was thought to be thick with the Man in the Moon. + The Sage took his stand With his wand in his hand, + Drew a circle, then gave the dread word of command, + Saying solemnly--"_Presto!--Hey, quick!--Cock-a-lorum!_" + When the Duchess immediately popp'd up before 'em. + + Just then a conjunction of Venus and Mars, + Or something peculiar above in the stars, + Attracted the notice of Signor Ruggieri, + Who "bolted," and left him alone with his deary.-- + Monsieur St. Megrin went down on his knees, + And the Duchess shed tears large as marrow-fat peas, + When,--fancy the shock,--a loud double-knock, + Made the lady cry, "Get up, you fool!--there's De Guise!"-- + 'Twas his Grace, sure enough; So Monsieur, looking bluff, + Strutted by, with his hat on, and fingering his ruff, + While, unseen by either, away flew the dame + Through the opposite key-hole, the same way she came; + But, alack! and alas! A mishap came to pass, + In her hurry she, somehow or other, let fall + A new silk _bandana_ she'd worn as a shawl; + She used it for drying Her bright eyes while crying, + Ane blowing her nose, as her beau talk'd of dying! + + Now the Duke, who had seen it so lately adorn her, + And he knew the great C with the Crown in the corner, + The instant he spied it, smoked something amiss, + And said, with some energy, "D---- it! what's this?" + He went home in a fume, And bounced into her room, + Crying, "So, Ma'am, I find I've some cause to be jealous! + Look here!--here's a proof you run after the fellows! + --Now take up that pen,--if it's bad choose a better,-- + And write, as I dictate, this moment a letter + To Monsieur--you know who!" The lady look'd blue; + But replied with much firmness--"Hang me if I do!" + De Guise grasped her wrist With his great bony fist, + And pinched it, and gave it so painful a twist, + That his hard gauntlet the flesh went an inch in,-- + She did not mind death, but she could not stand pinching; + So she sat down and wrote This polite little note:-- + + "Dear Mister St. Megrin, The Chiefs of the League in + Our house mean to dine This evening at nine; + I shall, soon after ten, Slip away from the men, + And you'll find me upstairs in the drawing-room then; + Come up the back way, or those impudent thieves + Of servants will see you; Yours + CATHERINE OF CLEVES." + + She directed and sealed it, all pale as a ghost, + And De Guise put it into the Twopenny Post. + St. Megrin had almost jumped out of his skin + For joy that day when the post came in; + He read the note through Then began it anew, + And thought it almost too good news to be true.-- + He clapp'd on his hat, And a hood over that, + With a cloak to disguise him, and make him look fat; + So great his impatience, from half after Four, + He was waiting till Ten at De Guise's backdoor. + When he heard the great clock of St. Genevieve chime, + He ran up the back staircase six steps at a time, + He had scarce made his bow, He hardly knew how, + When alas! and alack! There was no getting back, + For the drawing-room door was bang'd to with a whack;-- + + In vain he applied To the handle and tried, + Somebody or other had locked it outside! + And the Duchess in agony mourn'd her mishap: + "We are caught like a couple of rats in a trap." + + Now the Duchess's page, About twelve years of age, + For so little a boy was remarkably sage; + And, just in the nick, to their joy and amazement, + Popp'd the gas-lighter's ladder close under the casement. + But all would not do,--Though St. Megrin got through + The window,--below stood De Guise and his crew. + And though never man was more brave than St. Megrin, + Yet fighting a score is extremely fatiguing; + He thrust _carte_ and _tierce_ Uncommonly fierce, + But not Beelzebub's self could their cuirasses pierce: + While his doublet and hose, Being holiday clothes, + Were soon cut through and through from his knees to his nose. + Still an old crooked sixpence the Conjurer gave him, + From pistol and sword was sufficient to save him, + But, when beat on his knees, That confounded De Guise + Came behind with the "fogle" that caused all this breeze, + Whipp'd it tight round his neck, and, when backward he'd jerk'd him, + The rest of the rascals jump'd on him and Burked him. + The poor little page, too, himself got no quarter, but + Was served the same way, And was found the next day + With his heels in the air, and his head in the water-butt; + + Catherine of Cleves Roar'd "Murder!" and "Thieves!" + From the window above While they murder'd her love; + Till, finding the rogues had accomplish'd his slaughter, + She drank Prussic acid without any water, + And died like a Duke-and-a-Duchess's daughter! + + +CHATTER OF A DILETTANTE +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +The people are good-humoured here and easy; and, what makes me pleased +with them, they are pleased with me. One loves to find people who care +for one, when they can have no view in it. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +As to "Hosier's Ghost," I think it very easy, and consequently pretty; +but, from the ease, should never have guessed it Glover's. I delight in +your, "the patriots cry it up, and the courtiers cry it down, and the +hawkers cry it up and down." + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +There is a little book coming out that will amuse you. It is a new +edition of Isaac Walton's "Complete Angler," full of anecdotes and +historic notes. It is published by Mr. Hawkins, a very worthy gentleman +in my neighbourhood, but who, I could wish, did not think angling so +very _innocent_ an amusement. We cannot live without destroying animals, +but shall we torture them for our sport--sport in their destruction? I +met a rough officer at his house t'other day, who said he knew such a +person was turning Methodist; for, in the middle of conversation, he +rose and opened the window to let out a moth. I told him I did not know +that the Methodists had any principle so good, and that I, who am +certainly not on the point of becoming one, always did so too. One of +the bravest and best men I ever knew, Sir Charles Wager, I have often +heard declare he never killed a fly willingly. It is a comfortable +reflection to me, that all the victories of last year have been gained +since the suppression of the Bear Garden and prize-fighting; as it is +plain, and nothing else would have made it so, that our valour did not +singly and solely depend upon these two Universities. Adieu! + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +Can we easily leave the remains of such a year as this? It is still all +gold. I have not dined or gone to bed by a fire till the day before +yesterday. Instead of the glorious and ever-memorable year 1759, as the +newspapers call it, I call it this ever-warm and victorious year. We +have not had more conquest than fine weather; one would think we had +plundered East and West Indies of sunshine. Our bells are worn +threadbare with ringing for victories. I believe it will require ten +votes of the House of Commons before people will believe it is the Duke +of Newcastle that has done this, and not Mr. Pitt. One thing is very +fatiguing--all the world is made knights or generals. Adieu! I don't +know a word of news less than the conquest of America. Adieu! yours +ever. + +P.S.--You shall hear from me again if we take Mexico or China before +Christmas. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +You are so thoughtless about your dress that I cannot help giving you a +little warning against your return. Remember, everybody that comes from +abroad is _cense_ to come from France, and whatever they wear at their +first reappearance immediately grows the fashion. Now if, as is very +likely, you should through inadvertence change hats with a master of a +Dutch smack, Offley will be upon the watch, will conclude you took your +pattern from M. de Bareil, and in a week's time we shall all be equipped +like Dutch skippers. You see I speak very disinterestedly; for, as I +never wear a hat myself, it is indifferent to me what sort of hat I +don't wear. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +Lord Frederick Cavendish is returned from France. He confirms and adds +to the amiable accounts we have received of the Duc d'Aiguillon's +behaviour to our prisoners. You yourself, the pattern of attentions and +tenderness, could not refine on what he has done both in good-nature and +good-breeding: he even forbad any ringing of bells or rejoicings +wherever they passed--but how your representative blood will curdle when +you hear of the absurdity of one of your countrymen: the night after the +massacre at St. Cas, the Duc d'Aiguillon gave a magnificent supper of +eighty covers to our prisoners--a Colonel Lambert got up at the bottom +of the table, and, asking for a bumper, called out to the Duc, "My Lord +Duke, here's the Roy de Franse!" You must put all the English you can +crowd into the accent. _My Lord Duke_ was so confounded at this +preposterous compliment, which it was impossible for him to return, that +he absolutely sank back into his chair and could not utter a syllable: +our own people did not seem to feel more. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +Well! and so you think we are undone!--not at all; if folly and +extravagance are symptoms of a nation's being at the height of their +glory, as after-observers pretend that they are forerunners of its ruin, +we never were in a more flourishing situation. My Lord Rockingham and my +nephew Lord Orford have made a match of five hundred pounds, between +five turkeys and five geese, to run from Norwich to London. Don't you +believe in the transmigration of souls? And are you not convinced that +this race is between Marquis Sardanapalus and Earl Heliogabalus? And +don't you pity the poor Asiatics and Italians who comforted themselves, +on their resurrection, with their being geese and turkeys? + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +Here's another symptom of our glory! The Irish Speaker, Mr. Ponsonby, +has been _reposing_ himself at _Newmarket_. George Selwyn, seeing him +toss about bank-bills at the hazard-table, said, "How easily the Speaker +passes the money-bills!" + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +You would be more diverted with a Mrs. Holman, whose passion is keeping +an assembly, and inviting literally everybody to it. She goes to the +drawing-room to watch for sneezes; whips out a curtsy, and then sends +next morning to know how your cold does, and to desire your company next +Thursday. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +For my own part, I comfort myself with the humane reflection of the +Irishman in the ship that was on fire--I am but a passenger! If I were +not so indolent, I think I should rather put in practice the late +Duchess of Bolton's geographical resolution of going to China, when +Whiston told her the world would be burnt in three years. Have you any +philosophy? Tell me what you think. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +If it was not too long to transcribe, I would send you an entertaining +petition of the periwig-makers to the King, in which they complain that +men will wear their own hair. Should one almost wonder if carpenters +were to remonstrate that since the peace their trade decays, and that +there is no demand for wooden legs? _Apropos_ my Lady Hertford's friend, +Lady Harriot Vernon, has quarrelled with me for smiling at the enormous +head-gear of her daughter, Lady Grosvenor. She came one night to +Northumberland House with such display of friz that it literally spread +beyond her shoulders. I happened to say it looked as if her parents had +stinted her in hair before marriage, and that she had determined to +indulge her fancy now. This, among ten thousand things said by all the +world, was reported to Lady Harriot, and has occasioned my disgrace. As +she never found fault with anybody herself, I excuse her. You will be +less surprised to hear that the Duchess of Queensberry has not yet done +dressing herself marvellously: she was at Court on Sunday in a gown and +petticoat of red flannel. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +You perceive that I have been presented. The Queen took great notice of +me; none of the rest said a syllable. You are let into the King's +bedchamber just as he has put on his shirt; he dresses and talks +good-humouredly to a few, glares at strangers, goes to mass, to dinner, +and a-hunting. The good old Queen, who is like Lady Primrose in the +face, is at her dressing-table, attended by two or three old ladies, who +are languishing to be in Abraham's bosom, as the only man's bosom to +whom they can hope for admittance. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +Old age is no such uncomfortable thing, if one gives oneself up to it +with a good grace, and don't drag it about + + To midnight dances and the public show. + +If one stays quietly in one's own house in the country, and cares for +nothing but oneself, scolds one's servants, condemns everything that is +new, and recollects how charming a thousand things were formerly that +were very disagreeable, one gets over the winters very well, and the +summers get over themselves. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +As I was writing this, my servants called me away to see a balloon; I +suppose Blanchard's, that was to be let off from Chelsea this morning. I +saw it from the common field before the window of my round tower. It +appeared about a third of the size of the moon, or less, when setting, +something above the tops of the trees on the level horizon. It was then +descending; and, after rising and declining a little, it sunk slowly +behind the trees, I should think about or beyond Sunbury, at five +minutes after one. But you know I am a very inexact guesser at measures +and distances, and may be mistaken in many miles; and you know how +little I have attended to these _airgonauts_: only t'other night I +diverted myself with a sort of meditation on future _airgonation_, +supposing that it will not only be perfected, but will depose +navigation. I did not finish it, because I am not skilled, like the +gentleman that used to write political ship-news, in that style which I +wanted to perfect my essay; but in the prelude I observed how ignorant +the ancients were in supposing Icarus melted the wax of his wings by too +near access to the sun, whereas he would have been frozen to death +before he made the first post on that road. Next, I discovered an +alliance between Bishop Wilkin's art of flying and his plan of universal +language; the latter of which he no doubt calculated to prevent the want +of an interpreter when he should arrive at the moon. + +But I chiefly amused myself with ideas of the change that would be made +in the world by the substitution of balloons to ships. I supposed our +seaports to become _deserted villages_; and Salisbury Plain, Newmarket +Heath (another canvass for alteration of ideas), and all downs (but +_the_ Downs) arising into dockyards for aerial vessels. Such a field +would be ample in furnishing new speculations. But to come to my +ship-news: + +"The good balloon Daedalus, Captain Wingate, will fly in a few days for +China; he will stop at the top of the Monument to take in passengers. + +"Arrived on Brand-sands, the Vulture, Captain Nabob; the Tortoisesnow, +from Lapland; the Pet-en-l'air, from Versailles; the Dreadnought, from +Mount Etna, Sir W. Hamilton, commander; the Tympany, Montgolfier; and +the Mine-A-in-a-bandbox, from the Cape of Good Hope. Foundered in a +hurricane, the Bird of Paradise, from Mount Ararat. The Bubble, Sheldon, +took fire, and was burnt to her gallery; and the Phoenix is to be cut +down to a second-rate." + +In those days Old Sarum will again be a town and have houses in it. +There will be fights in the air with wind-guns and bows and arrows; and +there will be prodigious increase of land for tillage, especially in +France, by breaking up all public roads as useless. + + +[Sidenote: _Horace Walpole_] + +One of the Duke of Marlborough's generals, dining with the Lord Mayor, +an Alderman who sat next to him said, "Sir, yours must be a very +laborious profession." "No," replied the general, "we fight about four +hours in the morning, and two or three after dinner, and then we have +all the rest of the day to ourselves." + + +HIS MARRIAGE +[Sidenote: _William Cobbett_] + +When I first saw my wife she was _thirteen years old_.[5] I was within a +month of _twenty-one_.[6] She was the daughter of a sergeant of +artillery, and I was the sergeant-major of a regiment of foot, both +stationed in forts near the city of St. John, in the province of New +Brunswick. I sat in the same room with her for about an hour, in the +company of others, and I made up my mind that she was the very girl for +me. That I thought her beautiful is certain, for that, I had always +said, should be an indispensable qualification; but I saw in her what I +deemed marks of that sobriety of _conduct_ ... which has been by far the +greatest blessing of my life. It was now dead of winter, and, of course, +the snow several feet deep on the ground, and the weather piercing cold. +It was my habit, when I had done my morning's writing, to go out at +break of day to take a walk on a hill at the foot of which our barracks +lay. In about three mornings after I had first seen her, I had, by an +invitation to breakfast with me, got up two young men to join me in my +walk; and our road lay by the house of her father and mother. It was +hardly light, but she was out on the snow scrubbing out a washing-tub. +"That's the girl for me," said I, when we had got out of hearing. + +One of these young men came to England soon afterwards; and he, who +keeps an inn in Yorkshire, came over to Preston at the time of the +election (in 1826) to verify whether I were the same man. When he found +that I was he appeared surprised; but what was his surprise when I told +him that those tall young men whom he saw around me were the _sons_ of +that pretty little girl that he and I saw scrubbing out the washing-tub +on the snow in New Brunswick at day-break in the morning! + +From the day that I first spoke to her I never had a thought of her ever +being the wife of any other man, more than I had a thought of her being +transformed into a chest of drawers; and I formed my resolution at once, +to marry her as soon as we could get permission, and to get out of the +army as soon as I could. So that this matter was at once settled as +firmly as if written in the book of fate. At the end of about six months +my regiment, and I along with it, were removed to Fredericton, a +distance of _a hundred miles_ up the river of St. John; and, which was +worse, the artillery was expected to go off to England a year or two +before our regiment! The artillery went, and she along with them; and +now it was that I acted a part becoming a real and sensible lover. I was +aware that, when she got to that gay place Woolwich, the house of her +father and mother, necessarily visited by numerous people, not the most +select, might become unpleasant to her, and I did not like, besides, +that she should continue to _work hard_. I had saved _a hundred and +fifty_ guineas, the earnings of my early hours, in writing for the +paymaster, the quartermaster, and others, in addition to the savings of +my own pay. _I sent her all my money_ before she sailed, and wrote to +her to beg of her, if she found her home uncomfortable, to hire a +lodging with respectable people, and, at any rate, not to spare the +money by any means, but to buy herself good clothes, and to live without +hard work, until I arrived in England; and I, in order to induce her to +lay out the money, told her that I should get plenty more before I came +home. + +As the malignity of the devil would have it, we were kept abroad _two +years longer_ than our time, Mr. Pitt (England not being so tame then as +she is now[7]) having knocked up a dust with Spain about Nootka Sound. +Oh, how I cursed Nootka Sound, and poor bawling Pitt too, I am afraid! +At the end of _four years_, however, home I came, landed at Portsmouth, +and got my discharge from the army by the great kindness of poor Lord +Edward FitzGerald, who was then the major of my regiment. I found my +little girl _a servant of all work_ (and hard work it was) _at five +pounds a year_, in the house of a Captain Brisac; and, without hardly +saying a word about the matter, she put into my hands the whole of my +hundred and fifty guineas unbroken! + + +LIFE AT BOTLEY +[Sidenote: _William Cobbett_] + +But, to do the things I did, you must love _home_ yourself. To rear up +children, in this manner, you must _live with them_; you must make them, +too, _feel_ by your conduct, that you _prefer_ this to any other mode of +passing your time. All men cannot lead this sort of life, but many may; +and all much more than many do. My occupation, to be sure, was chiefly +carried on _at home_; but I had always enough to do. I never spent an +idle week, or even day, in my whole life. Yet I found time to talk with +them, to walk, or ride, about _with them_; and, when forced to go from +home, always took one or more with me. You must be good-tempered, too, +with them; they must like _your_ company better than any other person's; +they must not wish you away, not fear your coming back, not look upon +your departure as a _holiday_.... + +When I went from home, all followed me to the outer gate, and looked +after me, till the carriage, or horse, was out of sight. At the time +appointed for my return, all were prepared to meet me; and, if it were +late at night, they sat up as long as they were able to keep their eyes +open. This love of parents, and this constant pleasure _at home_ made +them not even think of seeking pleasure abroad; and they, thus, were +kept from vicious playmates and early corruption. + +This is the age, too, to teach children to be _trustworthy_, and to be +_merciful_ and _humane_. We lived _in a garden_ of about two acres, +partly kitchen-garden with walls, partly shrubbery and trees, and partly +grass. There were the _peaches_, as tempting as any that ever grew, and +yet as safe from fingers as if no child were ever in the garden. It was +not necessary to forbid. The blackbirds, the thrushes, the +white-throats, and even that very shy bird the goldfinch had their nests +and bred up their young ones in great abundance, all about this little +spot, constantly the play-place of six children; and one of the latter +had its nest and brought up its young ones in a _raspberry-bush_, within +two yards of a walk, and at the time that we were gathering the ripe +raspberries. We give _dogs, _and justly, great credit for sagacity and +memory; but the following two most curious instances, which I should not +venture to state, if there were not so many witnesses to the facts, in +my neighbours at Botley, as well as in my own family, will show, that +_birds_ are not, in this respect, inferior to the canine race. All +country people know that the skylark is a very shy bird; that its abode +is the open fields; that it settles on the ground only; that it seeks +safety in the wideness of space; that it avoids enclosures, and is never +seen in gardens. A part of our ground was a grass-plot of about _forty +rods,_ or a quarter of an acre, which, one year, was left to be mowed +for hay. A pair of larks, coming out of the fields into the midst of a +pretty populous village, chose to make their nest in the middle of this +little spot and at not more than about _thirty-five yards_ from one of +the doors of the house, in which there were about twelve persons living, +and six of these children, who had constant access to all parts of the +ground. There we saw the cock rising up and singing, then taking his +turn upon the eggs; and by and by we observed him cease to sing, and saw +them both _constantly engaged in bringing food to the young ones_. No +unintelligible hint to fathers and mothers of the human race, who have, +before marriage, taken delight in _music_. But the time came for _mowing +the grass!_ I waited a good many days for the brood to get away, but at +last I determined on the day; and if the larks were there still, to +leave a patch of grass standing around them. In order not to keep them +in dread longer than necessary, I brought three able mowers, who would +cut the whole in about an hour; and, as the plat was nearly circular, +set them to mow _round_, beginning at the outside. And now for sagacity +indeed! The moment the men began to whet their scythes, the two old +larks began to flutter over the nest, and to make a great clamour. When +the men began to mow, they flew round and round, stooping so low, when +near the men, as almost to touch their bodies, making a great chattering +at the same time; but, before the men had got round with the second +swath, they flew to the nest, and away they went, young ones and all, +across the river, at the foot of the ground, and settled in the long +grass in my neighbour's orchard. + +The other instance relates to a house-marten. It is well known that +these birds build their nests under the eaves of inhabited houses, and +sometimes under those of door-porches; but we had one that built its +nest _in the house_, and upon the top of a common door-case, the door of +which opened into a room out of the main passage into the house. +Perceiving that the marten had begun to build its nest here, we kept the +front door open in the day-time, but were obliged to fasten it at night. +It went on, had eggs, young ones, and the young ones flew. I used to +open the door in the morning early, and then the birds carried on their +affairs till night. The next _year_ the marten came again, and had +_another brood in the same place_. It found its _old nest_; and, having +repaired it, and put it in order, went on again in the former way; and +it would, I dare say, have continued to come to the end of its life, if +we had remained there so long, notwithstanding there were six healthy +children in the house making just as much noise as they pleased. + + +HIS CHILDREN +[Sidenote: _William Cobbett_] + +We wanted no stimulants of this sort [he is referring to social +dissipation, romances, and playhouses] to _keep up our spirits_; our +various pleasing pursuits were quite sufficient for that; and the +_book-learning_ came amongst the rest of the pleasures, to which it was, +in some sort, necessary. I remember that, one year, I raised a +prodigious crop of fine _melons_, under hand-glasses; and I learned how +to do it from a gardening-_book_; or, at least, that book was necessary +to remind me of the details. Having passed part of an evening in talking +to the boys about getting this crop, "Come," said I, "now let us _read +the book."_ Then the book came forth, and to work we went, following +very strictly the precepts of the book. I read the thing but once, but +the eldest boy read it, perhaps, twenty times over; and explained all +about the matter to the others. Why, here was a _motive_! Then he had to +tell the garden labourer _what to do_ to the melons. Now, I will engage, +that more was really _learned_ by this single _lesson_, than would have +been learned by spending, at this son's age, a year at school; and he +_happy_ and _delighted_ all the while. When any dispute arose among them +about hunting or shooting, or any other of their pursuits, they, by +degrees, found out the way of settling it by reference to some book; +and, when any difficulty occurred as to the meaning, they referred to +me, who, if at home, _always instantly attended to them_ in these +matters. + +They began writing by taking words out of _printed books_: finding out +which letter was which, by asking me, or asking those who knew the +letters one from the other; and, by imitating bits of my writing, it is +surprising how soon they began to write a hand like mine, very small, +very faint-stroked, and nearly plain as print. The first use that any of +them made of the pen, was to _write to me_, though in the same house +with them. They began doing this in mere _scratches_, before they knew +how to make any one letter; and, as I was always folding up letters and +directing them, so were they; and they were _sure_ to receive a _prompt +answer_, with most _encouraging_ compliments. All the meddling and +teasing of friends, and, what was more serious, the pressing prayers of +their anxious mother, about sending them to _school_, I withstood +without the slightest effect on my resolutions. As to friends, +preferring my own judgment to theirs, I did not care much; but an +expression of anxiety, implying a doubt of the soundness of my own +judgment, coming, perhaps twenty times a day, from her whose care they +were as well as mine, was not a matter to smile at, and very great +trouble did it give me. My answer at last was, as to the boys, I want +them to be _like me_; and as to the girls "in whose hands can they be so +safe as in _yours_? Therefore my resolution is taken; _go to school they +shall not_." + +Nothing is much more annoying than the _intermeddling of friends_ in a +case like this. The wife appeals to _them_, and "_good breeding_," that +is to say _nonsense_, is sure to put them on _her side_. Then they, +particularly the _women_, when describing the _surprising progress_ made +by their _own sons_ at school, used, if one of mine were present, to +turn to him, and ask to what school _he went_, and what _he_ was +_learning_? I leave any one to judge of _his_ opinion of her; and +whether _he_ would like her the better for that! "Bless me, so tall, and +_not learned_ anything _yet_!" "Oh, yes, he has," I used to say; "he has +learned to ride, and hunt, and shoot, and fish, and look after cattle +and sheep, and to work in the garden, and to feed his dogs, and to go +from village to village in the dark." This was the way I used to manage +with troublesome customers of this sort. And how glad the children used +to be, when they got clear of such criticising people! And how grateful +they felt to me for the _protection_ which they saw that I gave them +against that state of restraint, of which other people's boys +complained! Go whither they might, they found no place so pleasant as +home, and no soul that came near them affording them so many means of +gratification as they received from me. + + +THE CAP THAT FITS +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + + "Qui seme epines n'aille dechaux" + +_SCENE--A Salon with blue and white panels. Outside, persons pass and +repass upon a terrace_. + + HORTENSE. ARMANDE. MONSIEUR LOYAL + + HORTENSE _(behind her fan)_ + Not young, I think. + + ARMANDE _(raising her eye-glass)_ + And faded, too!-- + _Quite_ faded! Monsieur, what say you? + + M. LOYAL + Nay,--I defer to you. In truth, + To me she seems all grace and youth. + + HORTENSE + Graceful? You think it? What, with hands + That hang like this? _(with a gesture)._ + + ARMANDE + And how she stands! + + M. LOYAL + Nay,--I am wrong again. I thought + Her air delightfully untaught! + + HORTENSE + But you amuse me-- + + M. LOYAL + Still her dress,-- + Her dress at least, you _must_ confess-- + + ARMANDE + Is odious simply! Jacotot + Did not supply that lace, I know; + And where, I ask, has mortal seen + A hat unfeathered? + + HORTENSE + Edged with green!! + + M. LOYAL + The words remind me. Let me say + A Fable that I heard to-day. + Have I permission? + + BOTH _(with enthusiasm)_ + Monsieur, pray! + + M. LOYAL + "Myrtilla (lest a scandal rise + The lady's name I thus disguise), + Dying of ennui, once decided-- + Much on resource herself she prided-- + To choose a hat. Forthwith she flies + On that momentous enterprise. + Whether to Petit or Logros, + I know not: only this I know;-- + Headdresses then, of any fashion, + Bore names of quality, or passion. + Myrtilla tried them, almost all: + 'Prudence,' she felt, was somewhat small; + 'Retirement' seemed the eyes to hide; + 'Content,' at once, she cast aside. + 'Simplicity,'--'twas out of place; + 'Devotion' for an older face; + Briefly, selection smaller grew, + 'Vexatious! odious!'--none would do! + Then, on a sudden, she espied + One that she thought she had not tried: + Becoming, rather,--'edged with green,'-- + Roses in yellow, thorns between. + 'Quick! Bring me that!' 'Tis brought. 'Complete, + Superb, enchanting, tasteful, neat,' + In all the tones. 'And this you call--?' + '"Ill-Nature," Madame. It fits all.'" + + HORTENSE + + A thousand thanks! So naively turned! + + ARMANDE + + So useful too ... to those concerned! + 'Tis yours? + + M. LOYAL + Ah no,--some cynic wits; + And called (I think)-- + (_Placing his hat upon his breast_), + "The Cap that Fits." + + +ENIGMA +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +Not wishing to be outdone in literary enterprise by those magazines +which have attractions especially designed for the pleasing of the fancy +and the strengthening of the intellect of youth, we have contrived and +builded the following enigma, at great expense of time and labour: + +I am a word of 13 letters. + +My 7, 9, 4, 4 is a village in Europe. + +My 7, 14, 5, 7 is a kind of dog. + +My 11, 13, 13, 9, 2, 7, 2, 3, 6, 1, 13 is a peculiar kind of stuff. + +My 2, 6, 12, 8, 9, 4 is the name of a great general of ancient times +(have spelt it to best of ability, though may have missed the bull's-eye +on a letter or two, but not enough to signify). + +My 3, 11, 1, 9, 15, 2, 2, 6, 2, 9, 13, 2, 6, 15, 4, 11, 2, 3, 5, 1, 10, +4, 8 is the middle name of a Russian philosopher, up whose full cognomen +fame is slowly but surely climbing. + +My 7, 11, 4, 12, 3, 1, 1, 9 is an obscure but very proper kind of bug. + +My whole is--but perhaps a reasonable amount of diligence and ingenuity +will reveal that. + +We take a just pride in offering the customary gold pen or cheap +sewing-machine for correct solutions of the above. + + +THE HAPPINESS OF SIR THOMAS BROWNE +[Sidenote: _Religio Medici_] + +In my solitary and retired imagination (Neque enim cum porticus, aut me +lectulus accepit, desum mihi) I remember I am not alone, and therefore +forget not to contemplate Him and His Attributes who is ever with me, +especially those two mighty ones, His Wisdom and Eternity; with the one +I recreate, with the other I confound, my understanding; for who can +speak of Eternity without a soloecism, or think thereof without an +Extasie? Time we may comprehend; 'tis but five days elder than +ourselves, and hath the same Horoscope with the World; but to retire so +far back as to apprehend a beginning, to give such an infinite start +forwards as to conceive an end in an essence that we affirm hath neither +the one nor the other, it puts my Reason to _St. Paul's_ Sanctuary: my +Philosophy dares not say the angels can do it; God hath not made a +Creature that can comprehend Him; 'tis a privilege of His own nature.... + + +[Sidenote: _Religio Medici_] + +Art is the perfection of Nature: were the World now as it was the sixth +day, there were yet a Chaos: Nature hath made one World, and Art +another. In brief, all things are artificial; for Nature is the Art of +God. + + +[Sidenote: _Religio Medici_] + +There is surely a piece of divinity in us, something that was before the +Elements, and owes no homage unto the Sun. Nature tells me I am the +Image of God, as well as Scripture: he that understands not thus much, +hath not his introduction or first lesson, and is yet to begin the +Alphabet of man. Let me not injure the felicity of others, if I say I am +as happy as any: _Ruat coelum, Fiat voluntas tua_, salveth all; so that +whatsoever happens, it is but what our daily prayers desire. In brief, I +am content, and what should providence add more? Surely this is it we +call Happiness, and this do I enjoy; with this I am happy in a dream, +and as content to enjoy a happiness in a fancy, as others in a more +apparent truth and reality. There is surely a nearer apprehension of +anything that delights us in our dreams, than in our waked senses; +without this I were unhappy: for my awaked judgment discontents me, ever +whispering unto me, that I am from my friend; but my friendly dreams in +night requite me, and make me think I am within his arms. I thank God +for my happy dreams, as I do for my good rest, for there is a +satisfaction in them unto reasonable desires, and such as can be content +with a fit of happiness. And surely it is not a melancholy conceit to +think we are all asleep in this World, and that the conceits of this +life are as near dreams to those of the next, as the Phantasms of the +night, to the conceits of the day. There is an equal delusion in both, +and the one doth but seem to be the emblem or picture of the other; we +are somewhat more than ourselves in our sleeps, and the slumber of the +body seems to be but the waking of the soul. It is the ligation of +sense, but the liberty of reason, and our waking conceptions do not +match the Fancies of our sleeps. At my Nativity, my Ascendant was the +watery sign of _Scorpius_; I was born in the Planetary hour of _Saturn_, +and I think I have a piece of that Leaden Planet in me. I am no way +facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardize of company; yet in +one dream I can compose a whole Comedy, behold the action, apprehend the +jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof: were my memory as +faithful as my reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my +dreams; and this time also would I chuse for my devotions: but our +grosser memories have then so little hold of our abstracted +understandings that they forget the story, and can only relate to our +awaked souls, a confused and broken tale of that that hath passed. + + +[Sidenote: _Religio Medici_] + +He is rich, who hath enough to be charitable; and it is hard to be so +poor that a noble mind may not find a way to this piece of goodness. _He +that giveth to the poor, lendeth to the Lord;_ there is more Rhetorick +in that one sentence, than in a Library of Sermons; and indeed if those +Sentences were understood by the Reader, with the same Emphasis as they +are delivered by the Author, we needed not those Volumes of +instructions, but might be honest by an Epitome. Upon this motive only I +cannot behold a Beggar without relieving his Necessities with my Purse, +or his Soul with my Prayers; those _scenical_ and accidental +_differences_ between us, cannot make me forget that common and untoucht +part of us both; there is under these _Cantoes_ and miserable outsides, +these mutilate and semi-bodies, a soul of the same alloy with our own, +whose Genealogy is God as well as ours, and in as fair a way to +Salvation as our selves. + + +"PLEASE TO RING THE BELLE" +[Sidenote: _Hood_] + + I'll tell you a story that's not in Tom Moore:-- + Young Love likes to knock at a pretty girl's door: + So he call'd upon Lucy--'twas just ten o'clock-- + Like a spruce single man, with a smart double knock. + + Now, a handmaid, whatever her fingers be at, + Will run like a puss when she hears a _rat_-tat: + So Lucy ran up--and in two seconds more + Had questioned the stranger and answered the door. + + The meeting was bliss; but the parting was woe; + For the moment will come when such comers must go: + So she kissed him, and whispered--poor innocent thing!-- + "The next time you come, love, pray come with a ring." + + +THE HAPPY DEAN +[Sidenote: _Dean Hole_] + +My dear Hall,--I don't like the writing of this letter. I feel as I felt +in childhood when they were measuring out the castor-oil in a spoon; or +when, in boyhood, it was suggested "that kind Mr. Crackjaw should _just +look_ at my teeth." + +But the gulp and the "scrawnsh" must come. + +My Master, the Archbishop, wishes me to speak at the Annual Meeting of +the Church Defence Society in London, on the 9th of July, and as this is +his first invitation to duty since I became his Chaplain, I cannot plead +pleasure as an excuse. + +Regarding the Fete des Roses at Larchwood, as the _most joyful holiday_ +of my year, from my first entrance into that pleasant home until you +chaperon me to the Omnibus at the gate of the Show-ground, I need not +enlarge on my disappointment. The less said the better. + + When Dido found AEneas did not come, + She mourned in silence, and was Di do dum. + +Roses are improving here, but they will be very late. May you add to the +victories which your zeal and care have so well deserved. Shall you be +at Sheffield? If so, you might return with me and have a quiet day's +talk and ramble. With kindest regards and most obnoxious regrets, I +remain yours most sincerely, + + * * * * * + +When the Church Conference was held at Newcastle, Hole told a story of a +young curate who was preaching in a strange church from which the rector +was away. He preached a very short sermon, and in the vestry afterwards +the churchwarden remarked upon its shortness, and the curate told him +that a pup at his lodgings got into his room and ate half his sermon, +whereupon the churchwarden said: "I should be much obliged if you could +get our rector one of the breed." Reading this story, Mr. Boultbee wrote +to ask Hole if he could say what happened to the dog after eating the +sermon, and the reply was: + +Dear Sir,--You will be pleased to hear that when the dog had inwardly +digested the sermon which he had torn, he turned over a new leaf. He had +been sullen and morose; he became "a very jolly dog." He had been +selfish and exclusive in his manger; he generously gave it up to an aged +poodle. He had been noisy and vulgar; he became a quiet, gentlemanly +dog; he never growled again; and when he was bitten he always requested +the cur who had torn his flesh to be so good, as a particular favour, to +bite him again. He has established a Reformatory in the Isle of Dogs for +perverse puppies, and an Infirmary for Mangy Mastiffs in Houndsditch. +He has won twenty-six medals from the Humane Society for rescuing +children who have fallen into the canal. He spends six days of the week +in conducting his brothers and sisters, who have lost their ways, to the +Dog's Home, and it is a most touching sight to see him leading the blind +to church from morning to night on Sundays. + + +[Sidenote: _Dean Hole_] + +My dear Lord Bishop,--I have a strong suspicion that the inundation of +the Nave at Rochester was a knavish conspiracy of the Tee-totallers to +submerge the Cathedral during the absence of the Dean. The vergers have +had Water-on-the-Brain, but Messrs. Bishop and Sons from London have +assured Mr. Luard Selby that there is no organic disease. + +I have regarded it as my duty, in anticipation of your lordship's visit +to North Wales on Wednesday next, to see that all due preparations are +made to receive you. I have been to ----, and found that the new chancel +is making satisfactory progress. The new altar frontal is beautiful, the +tea and bread and butter at the Rectory are excellent, the roses in the +garden are making extra efforts, the school-mistress is in good health, +the mountains are drawn up in saluting order, the mines are smoking +peacefully, there will be cold lamb at the luncheon, weather permitting, +and all frivolous persons will be banished to England, including yours +ever. + + +THE ANSWER OF LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE +[Sidenote: _Henry S. Leigh_] + + The Lady Clara V. de V. + Presents her very best regards + To that misguided Alfred T. + (With one of her enamell'd cards). + Though uninclin'd to give offence, + The Lady Clara begs to hint + That Master Alfred's common sense + Deserts him utterly in print. + + The Lady Clara can but say, + That always from the very first + She snubb'd in her decisive way + The hopes that silly Alfred nurs'd. + The fondest words that ever fell + From Lady Clara, when they met, + Were, "How d'ye do? I hope you're well!" + Or else, "The weather's very wet." + + Her Ladyship needs no advice + How time and money should be spent, + And can't pursue at any price + The plan that Alfred T. has sent. + She does not in the least object + To let the "foolish yeoman" go, + But wishes--let him recollect-- + That he should move to Jericho. + + +THE WOODCRAFT OF JONSON +[Sidenote: _Ben Johnson_] + +Nothing is a courtesy unless it be meant us; and that friendly and +lovingly. We owe no thanks to rivers, that they carry our boats; or +winds, that they be favouring and fill our sails; or meats, that they be +nourishing; for these are what they are necessarily. Horses carry us, +trees shade us, but they know it not. It is true, some men may receive a +courtesy and not know it; but never any man received it from him that +knew it not. Many men have been cured of diseases by accident; but they +were not remedies. I myself have known one helped of an ague by falling +into a water; another whipped out of a fever; but no man would ever use +these for medicines. It is the mind, and not the event, that +distinguisheth the courtesy from wrong. My adversary may offend the +judge with his pride and impertinences, and I win my cause; but he meant +it not to me as a courtesy. I 'scaped pirates by being ship-wracked; was +the wrack a benefit therefore? No; the doing of courtesies aright is the +mixing of the respects for his own sake and for mine. He that doeth them +merely for his own sake is like one that feeds his cattle to sell them; +he hath his horse well dressed for Smithfield. + + +[Sidenote: _Ben Johnson_] + +Many might go to heaven with half the labour they go to hell, if they +would venture their industry the right way; but "The devil take all!" +quoth he that was choked i' the mill-dam, with his four last words in +his mouth. + + +[Sidenote: _Ben Johnson_] + +A good man will avoid the spot of any sin. The very aspersion is +grievous, which makes him choose his way in his life as he would in his +journey. The ill man rides through all confidently; he is coated and +booted for it. The oftener he offends, the more openly, and the fouler, +the fitter in fashion. His modesty, like a riding-coat, the more it is +worn is the less cared for. It is good enough for the dirt still, and +the ways he travels in. + + +[Sidenote: _Ben Johnson_] + +Money never made any man rich, but his mind. He that can order himself +to the law of Nature is not only without the sense but the fear of +poverty. O, but to strike blind the people with our wealth and pomp is +the thing! What a wretchedness is this, to thrust all our riches +outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate nothing but the little, +vile, and sordid things of the world; not the great, noble, and +precious! We serve our avarice, and, not content with the good of the +earth that is offered us, we search and dig for the evil that is +hidden. God offered us those things, and placed them at hand, and near +us, that He knew were profitable for us, but the hurtful He laid deep +and hid. Yet do we seek only the things whereby we may perish, and bring +them forth, when God and Nature hath buried them. We covet superfluous +things, when it were more honour for us if we could contemn necessary. +What need hath Nature of silver dishes, multitudes of waiters, delicate +pages, perfumed napkins? She requires meat only, and hunger is not +ambitious. Can we think no wealth enough but such a state for which a +man may be brought into a praemunire, begged, proscribed, or poisoned? O! +if a man could restrain the fury of his gullet and groin, and think how +many fires, how many kitchens, cooks, pastures, and ploughed lands; what +orchards, stews, ponds and parks, coops and garners, he could spare; +what velvets, tissues, embroideries, laces, he could lack; and then how +short and uncertain his life is; he were in a better way to happiness +than to live the emperor of these delights, and be the dictator of +fashions. But we make ourselves slaves to our pleasures, and we serve +fame and ambition, which is an equal slavery. + + +[Sidenote: _Ben Johnson_] + +I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to +Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never blotted +out a line. My answer hath been, "Would he had blotted out a thousand," +which they thought a malevolent speech. I had not told posterity this +but for their ignorance who chose that circumstance to commend their +friend by wherein he most faulted; and to justify mine own candour, for +I loved the man, and do honour his memory on this side idolatry as much +as any. He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature; had an +excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he +flowed with that facility that sometimes it was necessary he should be +stopped. "Sufflaminandus erat," as Augustus said of Haterius. His wit +was in his own power; would the rule of it had been so, too! Many times +he fell into those things could not escape laughter, as when he said in +the person of Caesar, one speaking to him, "Caesar, thou dost me wrong." +He replied, "Caesar did never wrong but with just cause"; and such-like, +which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his vices with his virtues. There +was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned. + + +[Sidenote: _Ben Johnson_] + +Wisdom without honesty is mere craft and cozenage. And therefore the +reputation of honesty must first be gotten; which cannot be but by +living well. A good life is a main argument. + + +MOTHERHOOD +[Sidenote: _Calverley_] + + She laid it where the sunbeams fall + Unscann'd upon the broken wall, + Without a tear, without a groan, + She laid it near a mighty stone + Which some rude swain had haply cast + Thither in sport, long ages past, + And Time with mosses had o'erlaid, + And fenced with many a tall grass-blade, + And all about bid roses bloom + And violets shed their soft perfume. + There, in its cool and quiet bed, + She set her burden down and fled: + Nor flung, all eager to escape, + One glance upon the perfect shape + That lay, still warm and fresh and fair, + But motionless and soundless there. + + No human eye had mark'd her pass + Across the linden-shadow'd grass + Ere yet the minster clock chimed seven: + Only the innocent birds of heaven-- + The magpie, and the rook whose nest + Swings as the elm-tree waves his crest-- + And the lithe cricket, and the hoar + And huge-limb'd hound that guards the door, + Look'd on when, as a summer wind + That, passing, leaves no trace behind, + All unapparell'd, barefoot all, + She ran to that old ruin'd wall, + To leave upon the chill dank earth + (For ah! she never knew its worth) + 'Mid hemlock rank, and fern, and ling, + And dews of night, that precious thing! + + And there it might have lain forlorn + From morn till eve, from eve to morn: + But that, by some wild impulse led, + The mother, ere she turn'd and fled, + One moment stood erect and high; + Then pour'd into the silent sky + A cry so jubilant, so strange, + That Alice--as she strove to range + Her rebel ringlets at her glass-- + Sprang up and gazed across the grass; + Shook back those curls so fair to see, + Clapp'd her soft hands in childish glee; + And shriek'd--her sweet face all aglow, + Her very limbs with rapture shaking-- + "My hen has laid an egg, I know; + And only hear the noise she's making!" + + +THE JUMPING FROG +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from +the East, I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and +inquired after my friend's friend, _Leonidas W_. Smiley, as requested to +do, and I hereunto append the result. I have a lurking suspicion that +_Leonidas W_. Smiley is a myth; that my friend never knew such a +personage; and that he only conjectured that, if I asked old Wheeler +about him, it would remind him of his infamous _Jim_ Smiley, and he +would go to work and bore me nearly to death with some infernal +reminiscence of him as long and tedious as it should be useless to me. +If that was the design, it certainly succeeded. + +I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the +old, dilapidated tavern in the ancient mining camp of Angel's, and I +noticed that he was fat, and bald-headed, and had an expression of +winning gentleness and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He +roused up and gave me good-day. I told him a friend of mine had +commissioned me to make some inquiries about a cherished companion of +his boyhood, named _Leonidas W_. Smiley--_Rev. Leonidas W_. Smiley, a +young minister of the gospel, who he had heard was at one time a +resident of Angel's Camp. I added that, if Mr. Wheeler could tell me +anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, I would feel under many +obligations to him. + +Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner, and blockaded me there with his +chair, and then sat me down and reeled off the monotonous narrative +which follows this paragraph. He never smiled, he never frowned, he +never changed his voice from the gentle-flowing key to which he tuned +the initial sentence, he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of +enthusiasm; but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein +of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that, +so far from his imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny +about his story, he regarded it as a really important matter, and +admired its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in _finesse_. To +me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along through such a queer +yarn without ever smiling, was exquisitely absurd. As I said before, I +asked him to tell me what he knew of Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, and he +replied as follows. I let him go on in his own way, and never +interrupted him once: + +There was a feller here once by the name of _Jim_ Smiley in the winter +of '49--or maybe it was the spring of '50--I don't recollect exactly, +somehow, though what makes me think it was one or the other is because I +remember the big flume wasn't finished when he first came to the camp; +but, anyway, he was the curiosest man about, always betting on anything +that turned up you ever see, if he could get anybody to bet on the +other side; and if he couldn't, he'd change sides. Anyway that suited +the other man would suit him--anyway, just so's he got a bet, _he_ was +satisfied. But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky; he most always come +out winner. He was always ready and laying for a chance; there couldn't +be no solit'ry thing mentioned but that feller'd offer to bet on it, and +take any side you please, as I was just telling you. If there was a +horse-race, you'd find him flush, or you'd find him busted at the end of +it. If there was a dog-fight, he'd bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, +he'd bet on it; if there was a chicken-fight, he'd bet on it; why, if +there was two birds sitting on a fence he would bet you which one would +fly first; or if there was a camp-meeting, he would be there reg'lar to +bet on Parson Walker, which he judged to be the best exhorter about +here--and so he was, too, and a good man. If he even seen a straddle-bug +start to go anywheres, he would bet you how long it would take to get +wherever he was going to, and if you took him up, he would foller that +straddle-bug to Mexico, but what he would find out where he was bound +for and how long he was on the road. Lots of boys here has seen that +Smiley, and can tell you about him. Why, it never made no difference to +_him_--he would bet on _any_ thing--the dangest feller. Parson Walker's +wife laid very sick once, for a good while, and it seemed as if they +warn't going to save her; but one morning he come in, and Smiley asked +how she was, and he said she was considerable better--thank the Lord +for his inf'nit mercy--and coming on so smart that, with the blessing of +Prov'dence, she'd get well yet; and Smiley, before he thought, says, +"Well, I'll risk two-and-a-half that she don't, anyway." + +Thish-yer Smiley had a mare--the boys called her the fifteen-minute nag, +but that was only in fun, you know, because, of course, she was faster +than that--and he used to win money on that horse, for all she was so +slow and always had the asthma, or the distemper, or the consumption, or +something of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred +yards' start, and then pass her under way; but always at the fag-end of +the race she'd get excited and desperate-like, and come cavorting and +straddling up, and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in the +air, and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences, and kicking up +m-o-r-e dust and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing +and blowing her nose--and always fetch up at the stand, just about a +neck ahead, as near as you could cypher it down. + +And he had a little small bull-pup, that to look at him you'd think he +wan't worth a cent, but to set around and look ornery, and lay for a +chance to steal something. But as soon as money was upon him, he was a +different dog; his under-jaw'd begin to stick out like the fo'castle of +a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover, and shine savage like the +furnaces. And a dog might tackle him, and bully-rag him, and bite him, +and throw him over his shoulder two or three times, and Andrew +Jackson--which was the name of the pup--Andrew Jackson would never let +on but what _he_ was satisfied, and hadn't expected nothing else--and +the bets being doubled and doubled on the other side all the time, till +the money was all up; and then all of a sudden he would grab that other +dog jest by the j'int of his hind leg and freeze to it--not chaw, you +understand, but only jest grip and hang on till they throwed up the +sponge, if it was a year. Smiley always come out winner on that pup, +till he harnessed a dog once that didn't have no hind legs, because +they'd been saw'd off by a circular saw, and when the thing had gone +along far enough, and the money was all up, and he come to make a snatch +for his pet holt, he saw in a minute how he'd been imposed on, and how +the other dog had him in the door, so to speak, and he 'peared +surprised, and then he looked sorter discouraged-like, and didn't try no +more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. He gave Smiley a +look, as much as to say his heart was broke, and it was _his_ fault, for +putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for him to take holt of, which +was his main dependence in a fight, and then he limped off a piece and +laid down and died. It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and +would have made a name for hisself if he'd lived, for the stuff was in +him, and he had genius--I know it, because he hadn't had no +opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to reason that a dog +could make such a fight as he could under them circumstances, if he +hadn't no talent. It always makes me feel sorry when I think of that +last fight of his'n, and the way it turned out. + +Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken-cocks, and +tom-cats, and all them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you +couldn't fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched +a frog one day, and took him home, and said he cal'klated to edercate +him; and so he never done nothing for three months but set in his back +yard and learn that frog to jump. And you bet you he _did_ learn him, +too? He'd give him a little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see +that frog whirling in the air like a doughnut--see him turn one +summerset, or maybe a couple, if he got a good start, and came down +flat-footed and all right, like a cat. He got him up so in the matter of +catching flies, and kept him in practice so constant, that he'd nail a +fly every time as far as he could see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted +was education, and he could do most anything--and I believe him. Why, +I've seen him set Dan'l Webster down here on this floor--Dan'l Webster +was the name of the frog--and sing out, "Flies, Dan'l, flies!" and +quicker'n you could wink, he'd spring straight up, and snake a fly off'n +the counter there, and flop down on the floor again as solid as a gob of +mud, and fall to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot as +indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doin' any mor'n any frog +might do. You never see a frog so modest and straightfor'ard as he was, +for all he was so gifted. An' when it come to fair and square jumping on +a dead level, he could get over more ground at one straddle than any +animal of his breed you ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong +suit, you understand; and when it come to that, Smiley would ante up +money on him as long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his +frog, and well he might be, for fellers that had travelled and been +everywhere, all said he laid over any frog that ever _they_ see. + +Well, Smiley kept the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to +fetch him down town sometimes and lay for a bet. One day a feller--a +stranger in the camp, he was--come across him with his box, and says: + +"What might it be that you've got in that box?" + +And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like, "It might be a parrot, or it +might be a canary, maybe, but it ain't--it's only just a frog." + +And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round +this way and that, and says, "H'm--so 'tis. Well, what's _he_ good for?" + +"Well," Smiley says, easy and careless, "he's good enough for _one_ +thing, I should judge--he can outjump any frog in Calaveras county." + +The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular look, +and gave it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate, "Well, I don't +see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other frog." + +"Maybe you don't," Smiley says. "Maybe you understand frogs, and maybe +you don't understand 'em; maybe you've had experience, and maybe you +ain't only a amateur, as it were. Anyways, I've got _my_ opinion, and +I'll risk forty dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras +county." + +And the feller studies a minute, and then says, kinder sad like, "Well, +I'm only a stranger here, and I ain't got no frog; but if I had a frog, +I'd bet you." + +And then Smiley says, "That's all right--that's all right--if you'll +hold my box a minute, I'll go and get you a frog." And so the feller +took the box and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley's, and set +down to wait. + +So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to hisself, and then +he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoon and +filled him full of quail shot--filled him pretty near up to the +chin--and set him on the floor. Smiley he went to the swamp and slopped +around in the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog, and +fetched him in, and gave him to this feller, and says: + +"Now, if you're ready, set him alongside of Dan'l, with his forepaws +just even with Dan'l, and I'll give the word." Then he says, +"One--two--three--jump!" and him and the feller touched up the frogs +from behind, and the new frog hopped off, but Dan'l give a heave, and +hysted up his shoulders--so--like a Frenchman, but it wan't no use--he +couldn't budge; he was planted as solid as an anvil, and he couldn't no +more stir than if he was anchored out. Smiley was a good deal surprised, +and he was disgusted too, but he didn't have no idea what the matter +was, of course. + +The feller took the money and started away; and when he was going out at +the door, he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulder--this way--at +Dan'l, and says again, very deliberate, "Well, _I_ don't see no p'ints +about that frog that's any better'n any other frog." + +Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan'l a long +time, and at last he says, "I do wonder what in the nation that frog +throwed off for--I wonder if there ain't something the matter with +him--he 'pears to look mighty baggy, somehow." And he ketched Dan'l by +the nap of his neck, and lifted him up and says, "Why, blame my cats, if +he don't weigh five pounds!" and turned him upside down, and he belched +out a double handful of shot. And then he see how it was and he was the +maddest man--he set the frog down and took out after that feller, but he +never ketched him. And-- + +(Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and got +up to see what was wanted.) And, turning to me as he moved away, he +said: "Just set where you are, stranger, and rest easy--I ain't going to +be gone a second." + +But, by your leave, I did not think that a continuation of the history +of the enterprising vagabond _Jim_ Smiley would be likely to afford me +much information concerning the _Rev. Leonidas W._ Smiley, and so I +started away. + +At the door I met the social Wheeler returning, and he buttonholed me +and recommenced: + +"Well, thish-yer Smiley had a yaller one-eyed cow that didn't have no +tail, only just a short stump like a bannanner, and--" + +"Oh! hang Smiley and his afflicted cow!" I muttered good-naturedly, and, +bidding the old gentleman good-day, I departed. + + + +THE CHARMING FRENCHMAN + + +BOSSUET +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +As for the happiness itself, of which he would give us a just idea, the +purely spiritual and internal happiness of the soul in the other life, +he sums it up in an expression which concludes a happy development of +the subject, and he defines it: _Reason always attentive and always +contented_. Take reason in its liveliest and most luminous sense, the +pure flame disengaged from the senses. + + +ROUSSEAU +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +It is from him that the sentiment of nature is reckoned among us, in the +eighteenth century. It is from him also that is dated, in our +literature, _the sentiment of domestic life; of that homely, poor, +quiet, hidden life, in which are accumulated so many treasures of virtue +and affection_. Amid certain details, in bad taste, in which he speaks +of robbery and of eatables, how one pardons him on account of that old +song of childhood, of which he knows only the air and some words +stitched together, but which he always wished to recover, and which he +never recalls, old as he is, without a soothing charm! + + +JOUBERT +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +Taste, for him, is the literary conscience of the soul.... + +M. Joubert was, in his day, the most delicate and the most original type +of that class of honest people which the old society alone +produced,--spectators, listeners who had neither ambition nor envy, who +were curious, at leisure, attentive, and disinterested, who took an +interest in everything, the true amateurs of beautiful things. "To +converse and to know--it was in this, above all things, that consisted, +according to Plato, the happiness of private life." This class of +connoisseurs and of amateurs, so fitted to enlighten and to restrain +talent, has almost disappeared in France since every one there has +followed a profession. "We should always," said M. Joubert, "have a +corner of the head open and free, that we may have a place for the +opinions of our friends, where we may lodge them provisionally. It is +really insupportable to converse with men who have, in their brains, +only compartments which are wholly occupied, and into which nothing +external can enter. Let us have _hospitable hearts and minds_." + + * * * * * + +Life is a duty; we must make a pleasure of it, so far as we can, as of +all other duties. If the care of cherishing it is the only one with +which it pleases Heaven to charge us, we must acquit ourselves gaily and +with the best possible grace, and poke that sacred fire, while warming +ourselves by it all we can, till the word comes to us: That will do. + + +MME D'HOUDETOT +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +In the years to which we refer--that is, the years immediately preceding +1800--there were gathered in the salon of this charming old lady the +remnants both of fashionable and philosophical society--never, indeed, +entirely exiled thence. It may be said of Mme d'Houdetot that her ideal +existence was always bounded by that Montmorency valley where the ardent +devotion of Jean Jacques has engraved her memory, as it were, in +immortal characters. There, again and again, her idyllic spring-time +renewed its bloom, and the freshness of her impressions continued +unimpaired until her dying day. She even remained in the country during +the Reign of Terror, her retreat being respected, and her relatives +flocking about her; and "I can readily believe," writes Mme de Remusat, +in a charming portrait of her venerable friend, "that she retains, of +those frightful days, merely the memory of the increased tenderness and +consideration which they procured for her." + + +MME DE REMUSAT +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +O mothers, gather your children about you early. Dare to say, when they +come into the world, that your youth is passing into theirs. O mothers, +be mothers, and you will be wise and happy! + + +DIDEROT +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +If the _Encyclopedia_ was in Diderot's time considered his principal +social work, his principal glory in the eyes of the men of to-day +consists in his having been the first to create the emotional and +eloquent style of criticism. It is through this that he has become +immortal, through this that he will be for ever dear to us journalists +of every sort and condition. Let us bow down to him as our father, and +as the founder of this style of criticism. + +Before Diderot's time, the French style of criticism had been, firstly, +as offered by Bayle, of a precise, inquiring, and subtle tone. Fenelon +represented criticism as an elegant and delicate art, while Rollin +exhibited its most useful and honest side. From a due sense of decency, +I refrain from mentioning the names of Freron and Des Fontaines. But +nowhere yet had criticism acquired anything like vividness, fertility, +and penetration; it had not yet found its soul. Diderot was the first to +find it. Naturally inclined to look over defects, and to admire good +qualities, "I am more affected," he remarked, "by the charms of virtue +than the deformity of vice; I quietly turn away from the wicked and _fly +forward to meet the good_. If there happens to be a beautiful spot in a +book, a character, a picture, or a statue, it is there that I let my +eyes rest; I can only see this beautiful spot, I can only remember it, +while the rest I nearly forget. What do I become when everything is +beautiful!" This inclination to welcome everything with enthusiasm--this +sort of universal admiration--undoubtedly had its danger. It is said of +him that he was singularly happy "in never having encountered a wicked +man nor a bad book." For, even if the book were bad, he would +unconsciously impute to the author some of his own ideas. Like the +alchemist, he found gold in the melting-pot, from the fact he had placed +it there himself. However, it is to him that all honour is due for +having introduced among us the fertile criticism of _beauties_, which he +substituted for that of _defects_. Chateaubriand himself, in that +portion of the _Genius of Christianity_ in which he eloquently +discourses on literary criticism, only follows the path opened by +Diderot.... + +"A pleasure that I enjoy alone affects me but slightly, and is of short +duration. It is for my friends as well as myself that I read, that I +reflect, that I write, that I meditate, that I listen, that I look, that +I feel. In their absence I am still devoted to them; I am continually +thinking of their happiness. If I am struck with a beautiful line, they +must know it. If I meet with a fine passage, I promise myself to impart +it to them. If I have before my eyes some enchanting spectacle, I +unconsciously plan a description of it for their benefit. I have +consecrated to them the use of all my senses and faculties; and it is +perhaps for this reason that everything becomes somewhat enriched in my +imagination and exaggerated in my discourse. Nevertheless, the +ungrateful creatures sometimes reproach me." + + +LA BRUYERE +[Sidenote: _Sainte-Beuve_] + +That philosopher, always accessible, even in the deepest studies, who +tells you to come in, for you bring him something more precious than +gold or silver, _if it is the opportunity of obliging you._ + + +SABBATH BELLS +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + Ding--ding-a-ding! Ding--ding-a-ding! + The church bells they du ring, + Ding--ding-a-ding! Ding--ding-a-ding! + An' seems they bells du zing: + "O merry be! O merry be! + The work it all be done, + Zee, peas and brocoli du graw + Tremenjus in the zun; + An' hot it is, an' calm it is, + Bees buzz an' cattle doze; + Zo, laze about, an' talk about, + All in your Zunday clo's." + _Ding--ding-a-ding_! Ding--ding-a-ding_! + + Ding--ding-a-ding! Ding--ding-a-ding! + The church bells merry ring, + Ding--ding-a-ding! Ding--ding-a-ding! + An,' dang it! doan't they zing?-- + "O rest awhile! O rest awhile! + Vor 'tis amazin' sweet + To watch the white-heart cabbages + All bustin' in the heat; + Zo, zit about, an' stand about, + Beside ov Early Rose, + An' puff a pipe, an' think ov things, + All in your Zunday clo's." + _Ding--ding-a-ding_! Ding--ding-a-ding_! + + Dong! Dong! Dong! + There's a shadow on the marn, + Dong! Dong! Dong! + The one larst bell du warn: + "O fulish mun! O fulish mun! + Life be no more than grass, + It glitters in the shinin' zun-- + Until the Reaper pass! + An', hark! I call 'ee up to prayer, + Wi' passen, clerk, an' schule, + Come up along, an' take thee seat + Thou ole pig-headed fule!" + + _Dong_! _Dong_! _Dong_! + + +UNCLE TOBY AND THE FLY +[Sidenote: _Sterne_] + +My uncle _Toby_ was a man patient of injuries;--not from want of +courage,--I have told you in a former chapter, "that he was a man of +courage":--And will add here, that where just occasions presented, or +called it forth,--know no man under whose arm I would have sooner taken +shelter;--nor did this arise from any insensibility or obtuseness of his +intellectual parts;--for he felt this insult of my father's as feelingly +as a man could do;--but he was of a peaceful, placid nature,--no jarring +element in it,--all was mixed up so kindly within him; my uncle _Toby_ +had scarce a heart to retaliate upon a fly. + +--Go--says he, one day at dinner, to an over-grown one which had buzzed +about his nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinner-time,--and which, +after infinite attempts, he had caught at last, as it flew by him;--I'll +not hurt thee, says my uncle _Toby_, rising from his chair, and going +across the room, with the fly in his hand,--I'll not hurt a hair of thy +head;--Go, says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he +spoke, to let it escape;--go, poor devil, get thee gone, why should I +hurt thee?--This world surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me. + +I was but ten years old when this happened: but whether it was, that the +action itself was more in unison to my nerves at that age of pity, +which instantly set my whole frame into one vibration of most +pleasurable sensation;--or how far the manner and expression of it might +go towards it;--or, in what degree, or by what secret magick,--a tone of +voice and harmony of movement, attuned by mercy, might find a passage to +my heart, I know not;--this I know, that the lesson of universal +good-will then taught and imprinted by my uncle _Toby_ has never since +been worn out of my mind: And tho' I would not depreciate what the study +of the _Literae humaniores,_ at the University, have done for me in that +respect, or discredit the other helps of an expensive education bestowed +upon me, both at home and abroad since;--yet I often think that I owe +one half of my philanthropy to that one accidental expression. + + +HOBSON'S CHOICE +[Sidenote: _William Hazlitt_] + +One of the pleasantest things in the world is going a journey; but I +like to go by myself. I can enjoy society in a room; but, out of doors, +nature is company enough for me. I am then never less alone than when +alone. + + The fields his study, nature was his book. + +I cannot see the wit of walking and talking at the same time. When I am +in the country I wish to vegetate like the country. I am not for +criticising hedge-rows and black cattle. I go out of town in order to +forget the town and all that is in it. There are those who for this +purpose go to watering-places, and carry the metropolis with them. I +like more elbow-room and fewer encumbrances. I like solitude, when I +give myself up to it, for the sake of solitude; nor do I ask for + + A friend in my retreat, + Whom I may whisper, Solitude is sweet. + +The soul of a journey is liberty, perfect liberty to think, feel, do, +just as one pleases. We go a journey chiefly to be free of all +impediments and of all inconveniences; to leave ourselves behind much +more to get rid of others. It is because I want a little breathing-space +to muse on indifferent matters, where Contemplation-- + + May plume her feathers and let grow her wings, + That in the various bustle of resort + Were all too ruffled, and sometimes impair'd-- + +that I absent myself from the town for a while, without feeling at a +loss the moment I am left by myself. Instead of a friend in a postchaise +or in a Tilbury, to exchange good things with, and vary the same stale +topics over again, for once let me have a truce with impertinence. Give +me the clear blue sky over my head and the green turf beneath my feet, a +winding road[8] before me and a three hours' march to dinner--and then +to thinking! It is hard if I cannot start some game on these lone +heaths. I laugh, I run, I leap, I sing for joy. From the point of yonder +rolling cloud I plunge into my past being, and revel there, as the +sun-burnt Indian plunges headlong into the wave that wafts him to his +native shore. Then long-forgotten things, like "sunken wrack and sumless +treasuries," burst upon my eager sight, and I begin to feel, think, and +be myself again. Instead of an awkward silence, broken by attempts at +wit or dull commonplaces, mine is that undisturbed silence of the heart +which alone is perfect eloquence. No one likes puns, alliterations, +antitheses, argument, and analysis better than I do; but I sometimes had +rather be without them. "Leave, oh, leave me to my repose!" I have just +now other business in hand, which would seem idle to you, but is with me +"very stuff o' the conscience." Is not this wild rose sweet without a +comment? Does not this daisy leap to my heart set in its coat of +emerald? Yet if I were to explain to you the circumstance that has so +endeared it to me, you would only smile. Had I not better, then, keep it +to myself, and let it serve me to brood over, from here to yonder craggy +point, and from thence onward to the far-distant horizon? I should be +but bad company all that way, and therefore prefer being alone. I have +heard it said that you may, when the moody fit comes on, walk or ride on +by yourself and indulge your reveries. But this looks like a breach of +manners, a neglect of others, and you are thinking all the time that you +ought to rejoin your party. "Out upon such half-faced fellowship," say +I. I like to be either entirely to myself, or entirely at the disposal +of others; to talk or be silent, to walk or sit still, to be sociable or +solitary. I was pleased with an observation of Mr. Cobbett's that he +thought it a bad French custom to drink our wine with our meals, and +that an Englishman ought to do only one thing at a time. So I cannot +talk and think, or indulge in melancholy musing and lively conversation +by fits and starts. "Let me have a companion of my way," says Sterne, +"were it but to remark how the shadows lengthen as the sun declines." It +is beautifully said; but, in my opinion, this continual comparing of +notes interferes with the involuntary impression of things upon the +mind, and hurts the sentiment. If you only hint what you feel in a kind +of dumb-show, it is insipid: if you have to explain it, it is making a +toil of a pleasure. You cannot read the book of nature without being +perpetually put to the trouble of translating it for the benefit of +others. I am for this synthetical method on a journey in preference to +the analytical. I am content to lay in a stock of ideas then, and to +examine and anatomise them afterwards. I want to see my vague notions +float like the down of the thistle before the breeze, and not to have +them entangled in the briars and thorns of controversy. For once, I like +to have it all my own way; and this is impossible unless you are alone, +or in such company as I do not covet. I have no objection to argue a +point with any one for twenty miles of measured road, but not for +pleasure. If you remark the scent of a bean-field crossing the road, +perhaps your fellow-traveller has no smell. If you point to a distant +object, perhaps he is short-sighted, and has to take out his glass to +look at it. There is a feeling in the air, a tone in the colour of a +cloud, which hits your fancy, but the effect of which you are unable to +account for. There is then no sympathy, but an uneasy craving after it, +and a dissatisfaction which pursues you on the way, and in the end +probably produces ill-humour. Now I never quarrel with myself, and take +all my own conclusions for granted till I find it necessary to defend +them against objections. It is not merely that you may not be of accord +on the objects and circumstances that present themselves before +you--these may recall a number of objects, and lead to associations too +delicate and refined to be possibly communicated to others. Yet these I +love to cherish, and sometimes still fondly clutch them, when I can +escape from the throng to do so. To give way to our feelings before +company seems extravagance or affectation; and, on the other hand, to +have to unravel this mystery of our being at every turn, and to make +others take an equal interest in it (otherwise the end is not answered), +is a task to which few are competent. We must "give it an understanding, +but no tongue." My old friend Coleridge, however, could do both. He +could go on in the most delightful explanatory way over hill and dale a +summer's day, and convert a landscape into a didactic poem or a Pindaric +ode. "He talked far above singing." If I could so clothe my ideas in +sounding and flowing words, I might perhaps wish to have some one with +me to admire the swelling theme; or I could be more content, were it +possible for me still to hear his echoing voice in the woods of +All-Foxden. They had "that fine madness in them which our first poets +had"; and, if they could have been caught by some rare instrument, would +have breathed such strains as the following: + + Here be woods as green + As any, air likewise as fresh and sweet + As when smooth Zephyrus plays on the fleet + Face of the curled streams, with flowers as many + As the young spring gives, and as choice as any; + Here be all new delights, cool streams and wells, + Arbours o'ergrown with woodbines, caves and dells; + Choose where thou wilt, whilst I sit by and sing, + Or gather rushes to make many a ring + For thy long fingers; tell thee tales of love, + How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove, + First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eye + She took eternal fire that never dies; + How she convey'd him softly in a sleep, + His temples bound with poppy, to the steep + Head of old Latmos, where she stoops each night, + Gilding the mountains with her brother's light, + To kiss her sweetest. + +Had I words and images at command like these, I would attempt to wake +the thoughts that lie slumbering on golden ridges in the evening clouds: +but at the sight of nature my fancy, poor as it is, droops and closes up +its leaves, like flowers at sunset. I can make nothing out on the spot: +I must have time to collect myself. + +In general, a good thing spoils out-of-door prospects: it should be +reserved for table-talk. Lamb is for this reason, I take it, the worst +company in the world out of doors; because he is the best within. I +grant there is one subject on which it is pleasant to talk on a journey, +and that is, what one shall have for supper when we get to our inn at +night. The open air improves this sort of conversation or friendly +altercation, by setting a keener edge on appetite. Every mile of the +road heightens the flavour of the viands we expect at the end of it. How +fine it is to enter some old town, walled and turreted, just at approach +of night-fall, or to come to some straggling village, with the lights +streaming through the surrounding gloom; and then, after inquiring for +the best entertainment that the place affords, to "take one's ease at +one's inn"! These eventful moments in our lives' history are too +precious, too full of solid, heartfelt happiness to be frittered and +dribbled away in imperfect sympathy. I would have them all to myself, +and drain them to the last drop: they will do to talk of or to write +about afterwards. What a delicate speculation it is, after drinking +whole goblets of tea-- + + The cups that cheer, but not inebriate-- + +and letting the fumes ascend into the brain, to sit considering what we +shall have for supper--eggs and a rasher, a rabbit smothered in onions, +or an excellent veal cutlet! Sancho in such a situation once fixed on +cow-heel; and his choice, though he could not help it, is not to be +disparaged. Then, in the intervals of pictured scenery and Shandean +contemplation, to catch the preparation and the stir in the kitchen +(getting ready for the gentlemen in the parlour). _Procul, O procul este +profani!_ These hours are sacred to silence and to musing, to be +treasured up in the memory, and to feed the source of smiling thoughts +hereafter. + + +A GARDEN IDYLL +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + + A LADY A POET + + + THE LADY + + Sir Poet, ere you crossed the lawn + (If it was wrong to watch you, pardon), + Behind this weeping birch withdrawn, + I watched you saunter round the garden. + I saw you bend beside the phlox, + Pluck, as you passed, a sprig of myrtle, + Review my well-ranged hollyhocks + Smile at the fountain's slender spurtle; + + You paused beneath the cherry-tree, + Where my marauder thrush was singing, + Peered at the bee-hives curiously, + And narrowly escaped a stinging; + And then--you see, I watched--you passed + Down the espalier walk that reaches + Out to the western wall, and last, + Dropped on the seat before the peaches. + + What was your thought? You waited long. + Sublime or graceful,--grave,--satiric? + A Morris Greek-and-Gothic song? + A tender Tennysonian lyric? + Tell me. That garden-seat shall be, + So long as speech renown disperses, + Illustrious as the spot where he-- + The gifted Blank--composed his verses. + + +THE POET +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + + Madam,--whose uncensorious eye + Grows gracious over certain pages, + Wherein the Jester's maxims lie, + It may be, thicker than the Sage's-- + I hear but to obey, and could + Mere wish of mine the pleasure do you, + Some verse as whimsical as Hood,-- + As gay as Praed,--should answer to you. + + But, though the common voice proclaims + Our only serious vocation + Confined to giving nothings names + And dreams a "local habitation"; + Believe me, there are tuneless days, + When neither marble, brass, nor vellum, + Would profit much by any lays + That haunt the poet's cerebellum. + + More empty things, I fear, than rhymes, + More idle things than songs, absorb it; + The "finely frenzied" eye, at times, + Reposes mildly in its orbit; + And--painful truth--at times, to him, + Whose jog-trot thought is nowise restive, + "A primrose by a river's brim" + Is absolutely unsuggestive. + + The fickle Muse! As ladies will, + She sometimes wearies of her wooer; + A goddess, yet a woman still, + She flies the more that we pursue her; + In short, with worst as well as best, + Five months in six, your hapless poet + Is just as prosy as the rest, + But cannot comfortably show it. + + You thought, no doubt, the garden scent + Brings back some brief-winged bright sensation + Of love that came and love that went,-- + Some fragrance of a lost flirtation, + Born when the cuckoo changes song, + Dead ere the apple's red is on it, + That should have been an epic long, + Yet scarcely served to fill a sonnet. + + Or else you thought,--the murmuring noon + He turns it to a lyric sweeter, + With birds that gossip in the tune, + And windy bough-swing in the metre; + Or else the zigzag fruit-tree arms + Recall some dream of harp-prest bosoms, + Round singing mouths, and chanted charms, + And mediaeval orchard blossoms,-- + + Quite _a la mode_. Alas for prose!-- + My vagrant fancies only rambled + Back to the red-walled Rectory close, + Where first my graceless boyhood gambolled, + Climbed on the dial, teased the fish, + And chased the kitten round the beeches, + Till widening instincts made me wish + For certain slowly ripening peaches. + + Three peaches. Not the Graces three + Had more equality of beauty: + I would not look, yet went to see; + I wrestled with Desire and Duty; + I felt the pangs of those who feel + The laws of Property beset them; + The conflict made my reason reel, + And, half-abstractedly, I ate them;-- + + Or two of them. Forthwith Despair-- + More keen that one of these was rotten-- + Moved me to seek some forest lair + Where I might hide and dwell forgotten, + Attired in skins, by berries stained, + Absolved from brushes and ablution;-- + But, ere my sylvan haunt was gained, + Fate gave me up to execution. + + I saw it all but now. The grin + That gnarled old Gardener Sandy's features; + My father, scholar-like and thin, + Unroused, the tenderest of creatures; + I saw--ah me !--I saw again + My dear and deprecating mother; + And then, remembering the cane, + Regretted--that _I'd left the other._ + + +MACAULAY'S WIT +[Sidenote: _Macaulay_] + +I have not the Chancellor's encyclopedic mind. He is indeed a kind of +semi-Solomon. He _half_ knows everything, from the cedar to the hyssop. + +The conformation of his mind was such that whatever was little seemed to +him great, and whatever was great seemed to him little. + +There were gentlemen and there were seamen in the navy of Charles II. +But the seamen were not gentlemen, and the gentlemen were not seamen. + +His imagination resembled the wings of an ostrich. It enabled him to +run, though not to soar. + +... Lady Millar, who kept a vase wherein fools were wont to put bad +verses, and Jerningham, who wrote verses fit to be put into the vase of +Lady Millar. + +From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics compounded of +misanthropy and voluptuousness, a system in which the two great +commandments were to hate your neighbour and to love your neighbour's +wife. + + +CRANFORD +[Sidenote: _Mrs. Gaskell_] + +In the first place, Cranford is in possession of the Amazons; all the +holders of houses, above a certain rent, are women. If a married couple +come to settle in the town, somehow the gentleman disappears; he is +either fairly frightened to death by being the only man in the Cranford +evening parties, or he is accounted for by being with his regiment, his +ship, or closely engaged in business all the week in the great +neighbouring commercial town of Drumble, distant only twenty miles on a +railroad. In short, whatever does become of the gentlemen, they are not +at Cranford. What could they do if they were there? The surgeon has his +round of thirty miles, and sleeps at Cranford; but every man cannot be a +surgeon. For keeping the trim gardens full of choice flowers without a +weed to speck them; for frightening away little boys who look wistfully +at the said flowers through the railings; for rushing at the geese that +occasionally venture into the gardens if the gates are left open; for +deciding all questions of literature and politics without troubling +themselves with unnecessary reasons or arguments; for obtaining clear +and correct knowledge of everybody's affairs in the parish; for keeping +their neat maid-servants in admirable order; for kindness (somewhat +dictatorial) to the poor, and real tender good offices to each other +whenever they are in distress, the ladies of Cranford are quite +sufficient. "A man," as one of them observed to me once, "is _so_ in the +way in the house!" Although the ladies of Cranford know all each other's +proceedings, they are exceedingly indifferent to each other's opinions. +Indeed, as each has her own individuality, not to say eccentricity, +pretty strongly developed, nothing is so easy as verbal retaliation; +but, somehow, good-will reigns among them to a considerable degree. + +The Cranford ladies have only an occasional little quarrel, spirted out +in a few peppery words and angry jerks of the head; just enough to +prevent the even tenor of their lives from becoming too flat. Their +dress is very independent of fashion; as they observe, "What does it +signify how we dress here at Cranford, where everybody knows us?" And if +they go from home, their reason is equally cogent, "What does it signify +how we dress here, where nobody knows us?" The materials of their +clothes are, in general, good and plain, and most of them are nearly as +scrupulous as Miss Tyler, of cleanly memory; but I will answer for it, +the last gigot, the last tight and scanty petticoat in wear in England, +was seen at Cranford--and seen without a smile. + +I can testify to a magnificent family red silk umbrella, under which a +gentle little spinster, left alone of many brothers and sisters, used to +patter to church on rainy days. Have you any red silk umbrellas in +London? We had a tradition of the first that had ever been seen in +Cranford; and the little boys mobbed it, and called it "a stick in +petticoats." It might have been the very red silk one I have described, +held by a strong father over a troop of little ones; the poor little +lady--the survivor of all--could scarcely carry it. + +Then there were rules and regulations for visiting and calls; and they +were announced to any young people who might be staying in the town with +all the solemnity with which the old Manx laws were read once a year on +the Tinwald Mount: + +"Our friends have sent to inquire how you are after your journey +to-night, my dear" (fifteen miles, in a gentleman's carriage); "they +will give you some rest to-morrow, but the next day, I have no doubt, +they will call; so be at liberty after twelve--from twelve to three are +our calling-hours." + +Then, after they had called: + +"It is the third day; I dare say your mamma has told you, my dear, never +to let more than three days elapse between receiving a call and +returning it; and also, that you are never to stay longer than a quarter +of an hour." + +"But am I to look at my watch? How am I to find out when a quarter of an +hour has passed?" + +"You must keep thinking about the time, my dear, and not allow yourself +to forget it in conversation." + +As everybody had this rule in their minds, whether they received or +paid a call, of course no absorbing subject was ever spoken about. We +kept ourselves to short sentences of small talk, and were punctual to +our time. + +I imagine that a few of the gentlefolk of Cranford were poor, and had +some difficulty in making both ends meet; but they were like the +Spartans, and concealed their smart under a smiling face. We none of us +spoke of money, because that subject savoured of commerce and trade, and +though some might be poor, we were all aristocratic. The Cranfordians +had that kindly _esprit de corps_ which made them overlook all +deficiencies in success when some among them tried to conceal their +poverty. When Mrs. Forester, for instance, gave a party in her +baby-house of a dwelling, and the little maiden disturbed the ladies on +the sofa by a request that she might get the tea-tray out from +underneath, every one took this novel proceeding as the most natural +thing in the world, and talked on about household forms and ceremonies +as if we all believed that our hostess had a regular servants' hall, +second table, with housekeeper and steward, instead of the once little +charity-school maiden, whose short ruddy arms could never have been +strong enough to carry the tray upstairs if she had not been assisted in +private by her mistress, who now sat in state pretending not to know +what cakes were sent up, though she knew, and we knew, and she knew that +we knew, and we knew that she knew that we knew, she had been busy all +the morning making tea-bread and sponge-cakes. + +There were one or two consequences arising from this general but +unacknowledged poverty, and this very much acknowledged gentility, which +were not amiss, and which might be introduced into many circles of +society to their great improvement. For instance, the inhabitants of +Cranford kept early hours, and clattered home in their pattens, under +the guidance of a lantern-bearer, about nine o'clock at night; and the +whole town was abed and asleep by half-past ten. Moreover, it was +considered "vulgar" (a tremendous word in Cranford) to give anything +expensive, in the way of eatable or drinkable, at the evening +entertainments. Wafer bread-and-butter and sponge-biscuits were all that +the Honourable Mrs. Jamieson gave; and she was sister-in-law to the late +Earl of Glenmire, although she did practise such "elegant economy." + +"Elegant economy!" How naturally one falls back into the phraseology of +Cranford! There, economy was always "elegant," and money-spending always +"vulgar and ostentatious"; a sort of sour-grapeism which made us very +peaceful and satisfied. I never shall forget the dismay felt when a +certain Captain Brown came to live at Cranford and openly spoke about +his being poor--not in a whisper to an intimate friend, the doors and +windows being previously closed, but in the public street! in a loud +military voice! alleging his poverty as a reason for not taking a +particular house. The ladies of Cranford were already rather moaning +over the invasion of their territories by a man and a gentleman. He was +a half-pay captain, and had obtained some situation on a neighbouring +railroad, which had been vehemently petitioned against by the little +town; and if, in addition to his masculine gender, and his connection +with the obnoxious railroad, he was so brazen as to talk of being +poor--why then, indeed, he must be sent to Coventry.... We had tacitly +agreed to ignore that any with whom we associated on terms of visiting +equality could ever be prevented by poverty from doing anything that +they wished. If we walked to or from a party, it was because the night +was so fine, or the air so refreshing, not because sedan-chairs were +expensive. If we wore prints instead of summer silks, it was because we +preferred a washing material; and so on, till we blinded ourselves to +the vulgar fact that we were, all of us, people of very moderate means. +Of course, then, we did not know what to make of a man who could speak +of poverty as if it was not a disgrace. Yet, somehow, Captain Brown made +himself respected in Cranford, and was called upon, in spite of all +resolutions to the contrary. I was surprised to hear his opinions quoted +as authority at a visit which I paid to Cranford about a year after he +had settled in the town. My old friends had been among the bitterest +opponents of any proposal to visit the captain and his daughters, only +twelve months before; and now he was even admitted in the tabooed hours +before twelve. True, it was to discover the cause of a smoking chimney, +before the fire was lighted; but still Captain Brown walked upstairs, +nothing daunted, spoke in a voice too large for the room, and joked +quite in the way of a tame man about the house. He had been blind to all +the small slights, and omissions of trivial ceremonies, with which he +had been received. He had been friendly, though the Cranford ladies had +been cool; he had answered small sarcastic compliments in good faith; +and, with his manly frankness, had overpowered all the shrinking which +met him as a man who was not ashamed to be poor. And, at last, his +excellent masculine common sense and his facility in devising expedients +to overcome domestic dilemmas had gained him an extraordinary place as +authority among the Cranford ladies. He himself went on in his course as +unaware of his popularity as he had been of the reverse; and I am sure +he was startled one day when he found his advice so highly esteemed as +to make some counsel which he had given in jest to be taken in sober, +serious earnest. + +It was on this subject: An old lady had an Alderney cow, which she +looked upon as a daughter. You could not pay the short quarter of an +hour call without being told of the wonderful milk or wonderful +intelligence of this animal. The whole town knew and kindly regarded +Miss Betsy Barker's Alderney; therefore great was the sympathy and +regret when, in an unguarded moment, the poor cow tumbled into a +lime-pit. She moaned so loudly that she was soon heard and rescued; but +meanwhile the poor beast had lost most of her hair and came out looking +naked, cold, and miserable, in a bare skin. Everybody pitied the animal, +though a few could not restrain their smiles at her droll appearance. +Miss Betsy Barker absolutely cried with sorrow and dismay; and it was +said she thought of trying a bath of oil. This remedy, perhaps, was +recommended by some one of the number whose advice she asked; but the +proposal, if ever it was made, was knocked on the head by Captain +Brown's decided "Get her a flannel waistcoat and flannel drawers, ma'am, +if you wish to keep her alive. But my advice is, kill the poor creature +at once." + +Miss Betsy Barker dried her eyes, and thanked the captain heartily. She +set to work, and by and by all the town turned out to see the Alderney +meekly going to her pasture, clad in dark grey flannel. I have watched +her myself many a time. Do you ever see cows dressed in grey flannel in +London? + +Captain Brown had taken a small house on the outskirts of the town, +where he had lived with his two daughters. He must have been upwards of +sixty at the time of the first visit I paid to Cranford after I had left +it as a residence. But he had a wiry, well-trained, elastic figure, a +stiff military throw-back of his head, and a springing step, which made +him appear much younger than he was. His eldest daughter looked almost +as old as himself, and betrayed the fact that his real was more than his +apparent age. Miss Brown must have been forty; she had a sickly, pained, +careworn expression on her face, and looked as if the gaiety of youth +had long faded out of sight. Even when young she must have been plain +and hard-featured. Miss Jessie Brown was ten years younger than her +sister, and twenty shades prettier. Her face was round and dimpled. Miss +Jenkyns once said, in a passion against Captain Brown (the cause of +which I will tell you presently), that "she thought it was time for Miss +Jessie to leave off her dimples, and not always to be trying to look +like a child." It was true there was something childlike in her face; +and there will be, I think, till she dies, though she should live to a +hundred. Her eyes were large, blue, wondering eyes, looking straight at +you; her nose was unformed and snub, and her lips were red and dewy; she +wore her hair, too, in little rows of curls, which heightened this +appearance. I do not know whether she was pretty or not; but I liked her +face, and so did everybody, and I do not think she could help her +dimples. She had something of her father's jauntiness of gait and +manner; and any female observer might detect a slight difference in the +attire of the two sisters--that of Miss Jessie being about two pounds +per annum more expensive than Miss Brown's. Two pounds was a large sum +in Captain Brown's annual disbursements. + +Such was the impression made upon me by the Brown family when I first +saw them all together in Cranford Church. The captain I had met +before--on the occasion of the smoky chimney, which he had cured by some +simple alteration in the flue. In church, he held his double eye-glass +to his eyes during the Morning Hymn, and then lifted up his head erect +and sang out loud and joyfully. He made the responses louder than the +clerk--an old man with a piping, feeble voice, who, I think, felt +aggrieved at the captain's sonorous bass, and quavered higher and higher +in consequence. + +On coming out of church the brisk captain paid the most gallant +attention to his two daughters. He nodded and smiled to his +acquaintances; but he shook hands with none until he had helped Miss +Brown to unfurl her umbrella, had relieved her of her prayer-book, and +had waited patiently till she, with trembling, nervous hands, had taken +up her gown to walk through the wet roads. + +I wondered what the Cranford ladies did with Captain Brown at their +parties. We had often rejoiced, in former days, that there was no +gentleman to be attended to, and to find conversation for, at the +card-parties. We had congratulated ourselves upon the snugness of the +evenings; and, in our love for gentility, and distaste of mankind, we +had almost persuaded ourselves that to be a man was to be "vulgar"; so +that when I found my friend and hostess, Miss Jenkyns, was going to have +a party in my honour, and that Captain and the Miss Browns were invited, +I wondered much what could be the course of the evening. Card-tables, +with green-baize tops were set out by daylight, just as usual; it was +the third week in November, so the evening closed in about four. +Candles, and clean packs of cards were arranged in each table. The fire +was made up; the neat maid-servant had received her last directions; and +there we stood, dressed in our best, each with a candle-lighter in our +hands, ready to dart at the candles as soon as the first knock came. +Parties in Cranford were solemn festivities, making the ladies feel +gravely elated as they sat together in their best dresses. As soon as +three had arrived, we sat down to "Preference," I being the unlucky +fourth. The next four comers were put down immediately to another table; +and presently the tea-trays, which I had seen set out in the storeroom +as I passed in the morning, were placed each on the middle of a +card-table. The china was delicate eggshell; the old-fashioned silver +glittered with polishing; but the eatables were of the slightest +description. While the trays were yet on the tables, Captain and the +Miss Browns came in; and I could see that, somehow or other, the captain +was a favourite with all the ladies present. Ruffled brows were +smoothed, sharp voices lowered at his approach. Miss Brown looked ill, +and depressed almost to gloom. Miss Jessie smiled as usual, and seemed +nearly as popular as her father. He immediately and quietly assumed the +man's place in the room; attended to every one's wants, lessened the +pretty maid-servant's labour by waiting on empty cups and +bread-and-butterless ladies; and yet did it all in so dignified a +manner, and so much as if it were a matter of course for the strong to +attend to the weak, that he was a true man throughout. He played for +threepenny points with as grave an interest as if they had been pounds; +and yet, in all his attention to strangers, he had an eye on his +suffering daughter--for suffering I was sure she was, though to many +eyes she might only appear to be irritable. Miss Jessie could not play +cards; but she talked to the sitters-out, who, before her coming, had +been rather inclined to be cross. She sang, too, to an old cracked +piano, which I think had been a spinet in its youth. Miss Jessie sang +"Jock of Hazeldean" a little out of tune; but we were none of us +musical, though Miss Jenkyns beat time, out of time, by way of appearing +to be so. + +It was very good of Miss Jenkyns to do this; for I had seen that, a +little before, she had been a good deal annoyed by Miss Jessie Brown's +unguarded admission (apropos of Shetland wool) that she had an uncle, +her mother's brother, who was a shopkeeper in Edinburgh. Miss Jenkyns +tried to drown this confession by a terrible cough--for the Honourable +Mrs. Jamieson was sitting at the card-table nearest Miss Jessie, and +what would she say or think if she found out she was in the same room +with a shopkeeper's niece! But Miss Jessie Brown (who had no tact, as we +all agreed the next morning) _would_ repeat the information, and assure +Miss Pole she could easily get her identical Shetland wool required, +"through my uncle, who has the best assortment of Shetland goods of any +one in Edinboro'." It was to take the taste of this out of our mouths, +and the sound of this out of our ears, that Miss Jenkyns proposed music; +so I say again, it was very good of her to beat time to the song. + +When the trays reappeared with biscuits and wine, punctually at a +quarter to nine, there was conversation, comparing of cards, talking +over tricks; but by and by Captain Brown sported a bit of literature. + +"Have you seen any numbers of _The Pickwick Papers_?" said he. (They +were then publishing in parts.) "Capital thing!" + +Now Miss Jenkyns was daughter of a deceased rector of Cranford; and, on +the strength of a number of manuscript sermons and a pretty good library +of divinity, considered herself literary, and looked upon any +conversation about books as a challenge to her. So she answered and +said, "Yes, she had seen them; indeed, she might say she had read them." + +"And what do you think of them?" exclaimed Captain Brown. "Aren't they +famously good?" + +So urged, Miss Jenkyns could not but speak. + +"I must say, I don't think they are by any means equal to Dr. Johnson. +Still, perhaps, the author is young. Let him persevere, and who knows +what he may become if he will take the great Doctor for his model." This +was evidently too much for Captain Brown to take placidly; and I saw the +words on the tip of his tongue before Miss Jenkyns had finished her +sentence. + +"It is quite a different sort of thing, my dear madam," he began. + +"I am quite aware of that," returned she. "And I make allowances, +Captain Brown." + +"Just allow me to read you a scene out of this month's number," pleaded +he. "I had it only this morning, and I don't think the company can have +read it yet." + +"As you please," said she, settling herself with an air of resignation. +He read the account of the "swarry" which Sam Weller gave at Bath. Some +of us laughed heartily. I did not dare, because I was staying in the +house. Miss Jenkyns sat in patient gravity. When it was ended, she +turned to me, and said, with mild dignity: + +"Fetch me _Rasselas_, my dear, out of the book-room." + +When I brought it to her, she turned to Captain Brown-- + +"Now allow _me_ to read you a scene, and then the present company can +judge between your favourite, Mr. Boz, and Dr. Johnson." + +She read one of the conversations between Rasselas and Imlac, in a +high-pitched, majestic voice; and when she had ended, she said, "I +imagine I am now justified in my preference of Dr. Johnson as a writer +of fiction." The captain screwed his lips out, and drummed on the table, +but he did not speak. She thought she would give a finishing blow or +two. + +"I consider it vulgar, and below the dignity of literature, to publish +in numbers." + +"How was the _Rambler_ published, ma'am?" asked Captain Brown, in a low +voice, which I think Miss Jenkyns could not have heard. + +"Dr. Johnson's style is a model for young beginners. My father +recommended it to me when I began to write letters--I have formed my own +style upon it; I recommend it to your favourite." + +"I should be very sorry for him to exchange his style for any such +pompous writing," said Captain Brown. + +Miss Jenkyns felt this as a personal affront, in a way of which the +Captain had not dreamed. Epistolary writing she and her friends +considered as her _forte_. Many a copy of many a letter have I seen +written and corrected on the slate, before she "seized the half-hour +just previous to post-time to assure" her friends of this or of that; +and Dr. Johnson was, as she said, her model in these compositions. She +drew herself up with dignity, and only replied to Captain Brown's last +remark by saying, with marked emphasis on every syllable, "I prefer Dr. +Johnson to Mr. Boz." + +It is said--I won't vouch for the fact--that Captain Brown was heard to +say, _sotto voce,_ "D----n Dr. Johnson!" If he did, he was penitent +afterwards, as he showed by going to stand near Miss Jenkyns's +arm-chair, and endeavouring to beguile her into conversation on some +more pleasing subject. But she was inexorable. The next day she made the +remark I have mentioned about Miss Jessie's dimples. + + +SALLY SIMPKIN'S LAMENT; OR JOHN JONES'S KIT-CAT-ASTROPHE +[Sidenote: _Hood_] + + "Oh! what is that comes gliding in, + And quite in middling haste? + It is the picture of my Jones, + And painted to the waist. + + "It is not painted to the life, + For where's the trousers blue? + Oh, Jones, my dear!--Oh dear! my Jones, + What is become of you?" + + "Oh! Sally dear, it is too true,-- + The half that you remark + Is come to say my other half + Is bit off by a shark! + + "Oh! Sally, sharks do things by halves, + Yet most completely do! + A bite in one place seems enough, + But I've been bit in two. + + "You know I once was all your own, + But now a shark must share! + But let that pass--for now to you + I'm neither here nor there. + + "Alas! death has a strange divorce + Effected in the sea, + It has divided me from you, + And even me from me. + + "Don't fear my ghost will walk o' nights, + To haunt, as people say; + My ghost _can't_ walk, for oh! my legs + Are many leagues away! + + "Lord! think, when I am swimming round, + And looking where the boat is, + A shark just snaps away a half + Without a quarter's notice. + + "One half is here, the other half + Is near Columbia placed: + Oh! Sally, I have got the whole + Atlantic for my waist. + + "But now adieu--a long adieu! + I've solved death's awful riddle, + And would say more, but I am doomed + To break off in the middle." + + +TABLE-TALK OF JOHN SELDEN +[Sidenote: _John Selden_] + +Old friends are best. King James used to call for his old shoes; they +were easiest for his feet. + + * * * * * + +'Tis sometimes unreasonable to look after respect and reverence, either +from a man's own servant, or other inferiors. A great lord and a +gentleman talking together, there came a boy by, leading a calf with +both his hands: says the lord to the gentleman, "You shall see me make +the boy let go his calf"; with that he came towards him, thinking the +boy would have put off his hat, but the boy took no notice of him. The +lord seeing that, "Sirrah," says he, "do you not know me, that you use +no reverence?" "Yes," says the boy, "if your Lordship will hold my calf, +I will put off my hat." + + * * * * * + +King James said to the fly, "Have I three kingdoms, and thou must needs +fly into my eye?" + + +HOW MARK WAS SOLD +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +It is seldom pleasant to tell on one's self, but sometimes it is a sort +of relief to a man to make a sad confession. I wish to unburden my mind +now, and yet I almost believe that I am moved to do it more because I +long to bring censure upon another man than because I desire to pour +balm upon my wounded heart. (I don't know what balm is, but I believe it +is the correct expression to use in this connection--never having seen +any balm.) You may remember that I lectured in Newark lately for the +young gentlemen of the Clayonian Society? I did, at any rate. During the +afternoon of that day I was talking with one of the young gentlemen just +referred to, and he said he had an uncle who, from some cause or other, +seemed to have grown permanently bereft of all emotion. And, with tears +in his eyes, this young man said, "Oh, if I could only see him laugh +once more! Oh, if I could only see him weep!" I was touched. I could +never withstand distress. + +I said: "Bring him to my lecture. I'll start him for you." + +"Oh, if you could but do it! If you could but do it, all our family +would bless you for ever more, for he is so very dear to us. Oh my +benefactor, can you make him laugh? can you bring soothing tears to +those parched orbs?" + +I was profoundly moved. I said: "My son, bring the old party round. I +have got some jokes in that lecture that will make him laugh if there is +any laugh in him; and, if they miss fire, I have got some others that +will make him cry or kill him, one or the other." Then the young man +blessed me, and wept on my neck, and went after his uncle. He placed him +in full view, in the second row of benches that night, and I began on +him. I tried him with mild jokes, then with severe ones; I dosed him +with bad jokes, and riddled him with good ones; I fired old, stale jokes +into him, and peppered him fore and aft with red-hot new ones; I warmed +up to my work, and assaulted him on the right and left, in front and +behind; I fumed and sweated and charged and ranted till I was hoarse and +sick, and frantic and furious; but I never moved him once--I never +started a smile or a tear! Never a ghost of a smile, and never a +suspicion of moisture! I was astounded. I closed the lecture at last +with one despairing shriek--with one wild burst of humour, and hurled a +joke of supernatural atrocity full at him! + +Then I sat down bewildered and exhausted. + +The president of the society came up and bathed my head with cold water, +and said: "What made you carry on so towards the last?" + +I said I was trying to make that confounded old fool laugh, in the +second row. + +And he said: "Well, you were wasting your time, because he is deaf and +dumb, and as blind as a badger!" + +Now, was that any way for that old man's nephew to impose on a stranger +and orphan like me? I simply ask you, as a man and a brother, if that +was any way for him to do? + + +NEW-MADE HONOUR +[Sidenote: _Ingoldsby_] + +(Imitated from Martial) + + A Friend I met, some half hour since-- + "_Good-morning_, Jack!" quoth I; + The new-made Knight, like any Prince, + Frowned, nodded, and passed by; + When up came Jem--_"Sir John, your Slave!"_ + "Ah, James; we dine at eight-- + Fail not"--(low bows the supple knave)-- + "Don't make my lady wait." + The King can do no wrong? As I'm a sinner, + He's spoilt an honest tradesman and my dinner. + + + +FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY + + +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + With nose so long and mouth so wide, + And those twelve grinders side by side, + Dick, with a very little trial, + Would make an excellent sun-dial. + + +[Sidenote: _Wellesley (altered)_] + + Nicias, a doctor and musician, + Lies under very foul suspicion. + He sings, and without any shame + He murders all the finest music: + Does he prescribe? our fate's the same, + If he shall e'er find me or you sick. + + +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + Now the Graces are four and the Venuses two, + And ten is the number of Muses; + For a Muse and a Grace and a Venus are you, + My dear little Molly Trefusis. + + +[Sidenote: _Merivale_] + + Dick cannot blow his nose when'er he pleases, + His nose so long is, and his arm so short, + Nor ever cries, God bless me! when he sneezes-- + He cannot hear so distant a report. + + +OLD LONDON SPORTS +[Sidenote: _Stow_] + +"Every year also at Shrove Tuesday, that we may begin with children's +sports, seeing we all have been children, the schoolboys do bring cocks +of the game to their master, and all the forenoon they delight +themselves in cock-fighting; after dinner, all the youths go into the +fields to play at the ball. + +"The scholars of every school have their ball, or baton, in their hands; +the ancient and wealthy men of the city come forth on horseback to see +the sport of the young men and to take part of the pleasure in beholding +their agility. Every Friday in Lent a fresh company of young men comes +into the field on horseback, and the best horseman conducteth the rest. +Then march forth the citizens' sons, and other young men, with disarmed +lances and shields; and there they practise feats of war. Many courtiers +likewise, when the king lieth near, and attendants of noblemen, do +repair to these exercises; and, while the hope of victory doth inflame +their minds, do show good proof how serviceable they would be in martial +affairs. + +"In Easter holidays they fight battles on the water; a shield is hung +upon a pole, fixed in the midst of the stream, a boat is prepared +without oars, to be carried by violence of the water, and in the fore +part thereof standeth a young man, ready to give charge upon the shield +with his lance; if so be he breaketh his lance against the shield, and +doth not fall, he is thought to have performed a worthy deed; if so be, +without breaking his lance, he runneth strongly against the shield, down +he falleth into the water, for the boat is violently forced with the +tide; but on each side of the shield ride two boats, furnished with +young men, which recover him that falleth as soon as they may. Upon the +bridge, wharfs, and houses, by the river's side stand great numbers to +see and laugh thereat.... + +"When the great fen, or moor, which watereth the walls of the city on +the north side, is frozen, many young men play upon the ice; some, +striding as wide as they may, do slide swiftly; others make themselves +seats of ice, as great as millstones; one sits down, many hand in hand +to draw him, and one slipping on a sudden, all fall together; some tie +bones to their feet and under their heels, and, shoving themselves by a +little picked staff, do slide as swiftly as a bird flieth in the air, or +an arrow out of a crossbow. Sometime two run together with poles, and, +hitting one the other, either one or both do fall, not without hurt; +some break their arms, some their legs, but youth desirous of glory in +this sort exerciseth itself against the time of war. Many of the +citizens do delight themselves in hawks and hounds; for they have +liberty of hunting in Middlesex, Hertfordshire, all Chiltern, and in +Kent to the water of Cray." Thus far Fitzstephen of sports. + +These, or the like exercises, have been continued till our time, +namely, in stage-plays, whereof ye may read in anno 1391, a play by the +parish clerks of London at the Skinner's Well besides Smithfield, which +continued three days together, the king, queen, and nobles of the realm +being present. And of another, in the year 1409, which lasted eight +days, and was of matter from the creation of the world, whereat was +present most part of the nobility and gentry of England. Of late time, +in place of those stage-plays, hath been used comedies, tragedies, +interludes, and histories, both true and feigned; for the acting whereof +certain public places, as the Theatre, the Curtain, etc., have been +erected. Also cocks of the game are yet cherished by divers men for +their pleasures, much money being laid on their heads, when they fight +in pits, whereof some be costly made for that purpose. The ball is used +by noblemen and gentlemen in tennis-courts, and by people of meaner sort +in the open fields and streets. + +The marching forth of citizens' sons, and other young men on horseback, +with disarmed lances and shields, there to practise feats of war, man +against man, hath long since been left off, but in their stead they have +used, on horseback, to run at a dead mark, called a quintain; for note +whereof I read, that in the year of Christ 1253, the 38th of Henry III., +the youthful citizens, for an exercise of their activity, set forth a +game to run at the quintain; and whoever did best should have a peacock, +which they had prepared as a prize. Certain of the king's servants, +because the court lay then at Westminster, came, as it were, in spite of +the citizens, to that game, and, giving reproachful names to the +Londoners, which for the dignity of the city, and ancient privilege +which they ought to have enjoyed, were called barons, the said +Londoners, not able to bear so to be misused, fell upon the king's +servants, and beat them shrewdly, so that, upon complaint to the king, +he fined the citizens to pay a thousand marks. This exercise of running +at the quintain was practised by the youthful citizens as well in summer +as in winter, namely, in the feast of Christmas, I have seen a quintain +set upon Cornhill, by the Leadenhall, where the attendants on the lords +of merry disports have run, and made great pastime; for he that hit not +the broad end of the quintain was of all men laughed to scorn, and he +that hit it full, if he rid not the faster, had a sound blow in his neck +with a bag full of sand hung on the other end. I have also in the summer +season seen some upon the river of Thames rowed in wherries with staves +in their hands, flat at the fore end, running one against another, and +for the most part, one or both overthrown and well ducked. + +On the holy days in summer the youths of this city have in the field +exercised themselves in leaping, dancing, shooting, wrestling, casting +of the stone or ball, etc. + +And for defence and use of the weapon, there is a special profession of +men that teach it. Ye may read in mine Annals how that in the year 1222 +the citizens kept games of defence, and wrestlings, near unto the +hospital of St. Giles-in-the-Field, where they challenged and had the +mastery of the men in the suburbs, and other commoners, etc. Also, in +the year 1453, of a tumult made against the mayor at the wrestling +besides Clerke's Well, etc. Which is sufficient to prove that of old +time the exercising of wrestling, and such like, hath been much more +used than of later years. The youths of this city also have used on holy +days after evening prayer, at their masters' doors, to exercise their +wasters and bucklers; and the maidens, one of them playing on a timbrel, +in sight of their masters and dames, to dance for garlands hung athwart +the streets; which open pastimes in my youth being now suppressed, worse +practices within doors are to be feared. As for the baiting of bulls and +bears, they are to this day much frequented, namely, in Bear gardens, on +the Bank's side, wherein be prepared scaffolds for beholders to stand +upon. Sliding upon the ice is now but children's play; but in hawking +and hunting many grave citizens at this present have great delight, and +do rather want leisure than good-will to follow it. + +Of triumphant shows made by the citizens of London, ye may read, in the +year 1236, the 20th of Henry III., Andrew Bockwell then being mayor, how +Eleanor, daughter to Reymond, Earl of Provence, riding through the city +towards Westminster, there to be crowned Queen of England, the city was +adorned with silks, and in the night with lamps, cressets, and other +lights without number, besides many pageants and strange devices there +presented; the citizens also rode to meet the king and queen, clothed in +long garments embroidered about, with gold and silks of divers colours, +their horses gallantly trapped to the number of three hundred and sixty, +every man bearing a cup of gold or silver in his hand, and the king's +trumpeters sounding before them. These citizens did minister wine, as +bottlers, which is their service, at their coronation. More, in the year +1293, for victory obtained by Edward I., against the Scots, every +citizen, according to their several trade, made their several show, but +especially the fishmongers, which in a solemn procession passed through +the city, having, amongst other pageants and shows, four sturgeons gilt, +carried on four horses; then four salmons of silver on four horses; and +after them six and forty armed knights riding on horses, made like luces +of the sea; and then one representing St. Magnus, because it was upon +St. Magnus's day, with a thousand horsemen, etc. + +One other show, in the year 1377, was made by the citizens for disport +of the young prince, Richard, son of the Black Prince, in the feast of +Christmas, in this manner: On the Sunday before Candlemas, in the night, +one hundred and thirty citizens, disguised, and well horsed, in a +mummery, with sound of trumpets, sack-butts, cornets, shalmes, and other +minstrels, and innumerable torchlights of wax, rode from Newgate, +through Cheap, over the bridge, through Southwark, and so to Kennington +beside Lambhith, where the young prince remained with his mother and the +Duke of Lancaster his uncle, the Earls of Cambridge, Hertford, Warwick, +and Suffolk, with divers other lords. In the first rank did ride +forty-eight in the likeness and habit of esquires, two and two together, +clothed in red coats and gowns of say or sandal, with comely visors on +their faces; after them came riding forty-eight knights in the same +livery of colour and stuff; then followed one richly arrayed like an +emperor; and, after him some distance, one stately attired like a pope, +whom followed twenty-four cardinals, and after them eight or ten with +black visors, not amiable, as if they had been legates from some foreign +princes. These maskers, after they had entered Kennington, alighted from +their horses, and entered the hall on foot; which done, the prince, his +mother, and the lords came out of the chamber into the hall, whom the +said mummers did salute, showing by a pair of dice upon the table their +desire to play with the prince, which they so handled that the prince +did always win when he cast them. Then the mummers set to the prince +three jewels, one after another, which were a bowl of gold, a cup of +gold, and a ring of gold, which the prince won at three casts. Then they +set to the prince's mother, the duke, the earls, and other lords, to +every one a ring of gold, which they did also win. After which they were +feasted, and the music sounded, the prince and lords danced on the one +part with the mummers, which did also dance; which jollity being ended, +they were again made to drink, and then departed in order as they came. + +The like was in Henry IV., in the 2nd of his reign, he then keeping his +Christmas at Eltham, twelve aldermen of London and their sons rode in a +mumming, and had great thanks. + +Thus much for sportful shows in triumphs may suffice. Now for sports and +pastimes yearly used. + +First, in the feast of Christmas, there was in the king's house, +wheresoever he was lodged, a lord of misrule, or master of merry +disports, and the like had ye in the house of every nobleman of honour +or good worship, were he spiritual or temporal. Amongst the which the +mayor of London, and either of the sheriffs, had their several lords of +misrule, ever contending, without quarrel or offence, who should make +the rarest pastimes to delight the beholders. These lords beginning +their rule on Alhollon eve, continued the same till the morrow after the +Feast of the Purification, commonly called Candlemas day. In all which +space there were fine and subtle disguisings, masks, and mummeries, with +playing at cards for counters, nails, and points, in every house, more +for pastime than for gain. + +Against the feast of Christmas every man's house, as also the parish +churches, were decked with holm, ivy, bays, and whatsoever the season of +the year afforded to be green. The conduits and standards in the +streets were likewise garnished; amongst the which I read, in the year +1444, that by tempest of thunder and lightning, on the 1st of February, +at night, Paule's Steeple was fired, but with great labour quenched; and +towards the morning of Candlemas Day, at the Leadenhall in Cornhill, a +standard of tree being set up in midst of the pavement, fast in the +ground, nailed full of holm and ivy, for disport of Christmas to the +people, was torn up, and cast down by the malignant spirit (as was +thought), and the stones of the pavement all about were cast in the +streets, and into divers houses, so that the people were sore aghast of +the great tempests. + +In the week before Easter, had ye great shows made for the fetching in +of a twisted tree, or with, as they termed it, out of the woods into the +king's house; and the like into every man's house of honour or worship. + +In the month of May, namely, on May-day in the morning, every man, +except impediment, would walk into the sweet meadows and green woods, +there to rejoice their spirits with the beauty and savour of sweet +flowers, and with the harmony of birds, praising God in their kind; and +for example hereof, Edward Hall hath noted, that King Henry VIII., as in +the 3rd of his reign, and divers other years, so namely, in the 7th of +his reign, on May-day in the morning, with Queen Katherine his wife, +accompanied with many lords and ladies, rode a-maying from Greenwich to +the high ground of Shooter's Hill, where, as they passed by the way, +they espied a company of tall yeomen, clothed all in green, with green +hoods, and bows and arrows, to the number of two hundred; one being +their chieftain, was called Robin Hood, who required the king and his +company to stay and see his men shoot; whereunto the King granting, +Robin Hood whistled, and all the two hundred archers shot off, loosing +all at once; and when he whistled again they likewise shot again; their +arrows whistled by craft of the head, so that the noise was strange and +loud, which greatly delighted the king, queen, and their company. +Moreover, this Robin Hood desired the king and queen, with their +retinue, to enter the greenwood where, in harbours made of boughs, and +decked with flowers, they were set and served plentifully with venison +and wine by Robin Hood and his men, to their great contentment, and had +other pageants and pastimes, as ye may read in my said author. + +I find also, that in the month of May, the citizens of London of all +estates, lightly in every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes +joining together, had their several mayings, and did fetch in Maypoles, +with divers warlike shows, with good archers, morris-dancers, and other +devices, for pastime all the day long; and toward the evening they had +stage-plays, and bonfires in the streets. + + +LETTER FROM AN INDIAN GENTLEMAN TO AN ENGLISH FRIEND + +Dear Sir, + +Since from a long time ago I had hope of a favour of you, but (ah! ah!) +was disappointed for this. I take this opportunity to enquire your +health that how you are in these days. It may not be out of place to +state that I and my two sons are enjoying, but my misfortunes has never +ceased by day and night to embarras me and torture, and I am plunged in +utmost degredation of sorrow to no purpose. At present a law suit is +hurled on me by that unworthy and unnatural or I should rather say that +prodigious blackguard man viz my brother who is son of my father and +mother, and (ah! ah!) how mortifying it is indeed to a person of my +temperature of meekness. + +Had my late lamented and disceased father had even the least +scintillation that how his patrimony would involve me in his +mechanitions he would sooner have never died than wish my brother to +share it and his revered bones are now perhaps turning to behold my +misfortunate circumstances. But I must beg leaf to refrain this matter +further to complain to you. + +I had heard that your eldest male issue had attended some examination +papers in Allahabad. Kindly inform that for what department he is +constrained and prone to pass and sat for. + +If my younger son who is an ambilitous fellow and having read up to F.A. +could obtain some trifling job such as a honest penny turner I would be +greatly gratified for I have now no hope of success of him in the +revenue department. His abilities are superior on the whole and he would +without fail characterise any appointment with honesty. If you could +ensure his jobbery I am well self satisfied of his success. + +Think him as your own issue and have kindness upon him. What more can I +request to you than this? His yeares are now entring to 24 and goverment +has fixed 25 yeares for his service so please do needfull in a quick +march time instantly on his behalf. I will be much thankfull to you for +this. + +I had not been to shooting lately owing to an iron thorn penetrated into +my foot which made impossible to walk, but my shikari make some prey +latterly of some herin and murghabi birds which I failed to send you on +account of hotness of atmosphere which would make it rotton. Hence you +should excuse my fault. But I will be with all my heart if your sons +will come to prey here. I will myself accompany and shoot him too. At +this season many herins are plentifull and one noise from raifel or gun +will bring down many dead ones. + +My elephant also will ride them in the jungles and give shikar to them +as there are lipperds concealed in the thicket adjacent near the river. +I have shooted a lippard latterly and his carcase I have sent to the +chamar to make it very nicely without a bad smell coming. If you will +wish for its carcase then I can send after the bad smell has been +excluded from the carcase. + +There is also a janwar called wild bores here which is ferocious and +dangerous sorts to shoot with gun but I can arrange for them also as +they are highly destructivrous to corns of poor peoples and are worthy +for killing because they devast the fields too much by their carnivrous +fooding. I have also four nice horses for riding which I can let your +sons use for the hunting purpose. They are well accustomed to the +bum-bum-budam of guns and are mild and un-shy. + +Also please inform to your sons that do not bring any fooding for my +hunble kitchen will supply their all things for eating, also fruits and +etcetera for filling the belly of them. + +I have specially provided 5 or 6 big and strong cock fowles and their +females for boiling on the day they will honour my poor house and some +biscuits and sodda waters and whisky. I have also some syrop of home +made which is strong and very delicshous. If your sons are like you and +not taking whisky then I can substitute another unintoxicating liquid +for that. Kindly inform on what day they will arrive at my poor house +that I may arrange their coming comfortably from railway station for the +10 miles to my poor house. + +If you can come so much better but send your sons by all means. + +With respects, + +I am, + +Yours sincerely. + + +A BABU LETTER + +SIR, + +Last night while perambulating city in search of evenings zephyrs I came +to learn of the demise of Babu ... of your Honour's office who leaves +widow and sorrowing children who will feed their bellies the Devil knows +how. I submit myself to your Honour's approval and patronage for the +vacancy. For my qualifications I am damnably well up in precise-writing +(Note. He means precis writing) and am much addicted to the swearing of +European oaths. I am no believing old and rotten superstition of ancient +forefathers, but am iconoclast smashing idols to detriment of damn +scoundrels. If I should be successful for the post, I and my wife and +children will fall on our bended knees, as in duty bound, and offer up +prayers for your Honour, your Honour's lady, and your posthumous +children to follow up hereafter. + +Your most obedient servant. + + +"LOVE, WITH A WITNESS!" +[Sidenote: _Hood_] + + He has shaved off his whiskers and blackened his brows, + Wears a patch and a wig of false hair-- + But it's him--oh, it's him !--we exchanged lover's vows + When I lived up in Cavendish Square. + + He had beautiful eyes, and his lips were the same, + And his voice was as soft as a flute-- + Like a Lord or a Marquis he looked, when he came + To make love in his master's best suit. + + If I lived for a thousand long years from my birth, + I shall never forget what he told-- + How he loved me beyond the rich women of earth, + With their jewels and silver and gold! + + When he kissed me, and bade me adieu with a sigh, + By the light of the sweetest of moons, + Oh, how little I dreamt I was bidding good-bye + To my Misses's teapot and spoons! + + +MR TESTATOR +[Sidenote: _Charles Dickens_] + +Mr. Testator took a set of chambers in Lyons Inn when he had but very +scanty furniture for his bedroom, and none for his sitting-room. He had +lived some wintry months in this condition, and had found it very bare +and cold. One night, past midnight, when he sat writing and still had +writing to do that must be done before he went to bed, he found himself +out of coals. He had coals downstairs, but had never been to his cellar; +however, the cellar-key was on his mantelshelf, and if he went down and +opened the cellar it fitted, he might fairly assume the coals in that +cellar to be his. As to his laundress, she lived among the coal-wagons +and Thames watermen--for there were Thames watermen at that time--in +some unknown rat-hole by the river, down lanes and alleys on the other +side of the Strand. As to any other person to meet him or obstruct him, +Lyons Inn was dreaming, drunk, maudlin, moody, betting, brooding over +bill-discounting or renewing--asleep or awake, minding its own affairs. +Mr. Testator took his coal-scuttle in one hand, his candle and key in +the other, and descended to the dismallest underground dens of Lyons +Inn, where the late vehicles in the streets became thunderous and all +the water-pipes in the neighbourhood seemed to have Macbeth's Amen +sticking in their throats, and to be trying to get it out. After groping +here and there among low doors to no purpose, Mr. Testator at length +came to a door with a rusty padlock which his key fitted. Getting the +door open with much trouble, and looking in, he found no coals, but a +confused pile of furniture. Alarmed by this intrusion on another man's +property, he locked the door again, found his own cellar, filled his +scuttle, and returned upstairs. + +But the furniture he had seen ran on castors across and across Mr. +Testator's mind incessantly, when, in the chill hour of five in the +morning, he got to bed. He particularly wanted a table to write at, and +a table expressly made to be written at had been the piece of furniture +in the foreground of the heap. When his laundress emerged from her +burrow in the morning to make his kettle boil, he artfully led up to the +subject of cellars and furniture; but the two ideas had evidently no +connection in her mind. When she left him, and he sat at his breakfast, +thinking about the furniture, he recalled the rusty state of the +padlock, and inferred that the furniture must have been stored in the +cellar for a long time--was perhaps forgotten--owner dead perhaps? After +thinking it over a few days, in the course of which he could pump +nothing out of Lyons Inn about the furniture, he became desperate, and +resolved to borrow that table. He did so, that night. He had not had the +table long, when he determined to borrow an easy-chair; he had not had +that long, when he made up his mind to borrow a bookcase; then, a +couch; then, a carpet and rug. By that time, he felt he was "in +furniture stepped in so far," as that it could be no worse to borrow it +all. Consequently, he borrowed it all, and locked up the cellar for +good. He had always locked it, after every visit. He had carried up +every separate article in the dead of night, and, at the best, had felt +as wicked as a Resurrection Man. Every article was blue and furry when +brought into his rooms, and he had had, in a murderous and guilty sort +of way, to polish it up while London slept. + +Mr. Testator lived in his furnished chambers two or three years, or +more, and gradually lulled himself into the opinion that the furniture +was his own. This was his convenient state of mind when, late one night, +a step came up the stairs, and a hand passed over his door feeling for +his knocker, and then one deep and solemn rap was rapped that might have +been a spring in Mr. Testator's easy-chair to shoot him out of it; so +promptly was it attended with that effect. + +With a candle in his hand, Mr. Testator went to the door, and found +there a very pale and very tall man; a man who stooped; a man with very +high shoulders, a very narrow chest, and a very red nose; a +shabby-genteel man. He was wrapped in a long threadbare black coat, +fastened up the front with more pins than buttons, and under his arm he +squeezed an umbrella without a handle, as if he were playing bagpipes. +He said, "I beg your pardon, but can you tell me--" and stopped; his +eyes resting on some object within the chambers. + +"Can I tell you what?" asked Mr. Testator, noting his stoppage with +quick alarm. + +"I ask your pardon," said the stranger, "but--this is not the inquiry I +was going to make--_do_ I see in there, any small article of property +belonging to _me_?" + +Mr. Testator was beginning to stammer that he was not aware--when the +visitor slipped past him into the chambers. There, in a goblin way which +froze Mr. Testator to the marrow, he examined, first, the writing-table, +and said, "Mine"; then, the easy-chair, and said, "Mine"; then, the +bookcase, and said, "Mine"; then, turned up a corner of the carpet, and +said "Mine!"--in a word, inspected every item of furniture from the +cellar, in succession, and said, "Mine!" Towards the end of this +investigation Mr. Testator perceived that he was sodden with liquor, and +that the liquor was gin. He was not unsteady with gin, either in his +speech or carriage; but he was stiff with gin in both particulars. + +Mr. Testator was in a dreadful state, for (according to his making out +of the story) the possible consequences of what he had done in +recklessness and hardihood, flashed upon him in their fulness for the +first time. When they had stood gazing at one another for a little +while, he tremulously began: + +"Sir, I am conscious that the fullest explanation, compensation, and +restitution, are your due. They shall be yours. Allow me to entreat +that, without temper, without even natural irritation on your part, we +may have a little--' + +"Drop of something to drink," interrupted the stranger. "I am +agreeable." + +Mr. Testator had intended to say, "a little quiet conversation," but +with great relief of mind adopted the amendment. He produced a decanter +of gin, and was bustling about for hot water and sugar, when he found +that his visitor had already drunk half of the decanter's contents. With +hot water and sugar the visitor drank the remainder before he had been +an hour in the chambers by the chimes of the church of St. Mary in the +Strand; and during the process he frequently whispered to himself, +"Mine!" + +The gin gone, and Mr. Testator wondering what was to follow it, the +visitor rose and said, with increased stiffness, "At what hour of the +morning, sir, will it be convenient?" Mr. Testator hazarded, "At ten?" +"Sir," said the visitor, "at ten to the moment, I shall be here." He +then contemplated Mr. Testator somewhat at leisure, and said, "God bless +you! How is your wife?" Mr. Testator (who never had a wife) replied with +much feeling, "Deeply anxious, poor soul, but otherwise well." The +visitor thereupon turned and went away, and fell twice in going +downstairs. From that hour he was never heard of. Whether he was a +ghost, or a spectral illusion of conscience, or a drunken man, who had +no business there, or the drunken rightful owner of the furniture, with +a transitory gleam of memory; whether he got safe home, or had no home +to get to; whether he died of liquor on the way, or lived in liquor ever +afterwards; he never was heard of more. + + +A NEWSPAPER PARAGRAPH +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +Distressing Accident.--Last evening, about six o'clock, as Mr. William +Schuyler, an old and respectable citizen of South Park, was leaving his +residence to go down town, as has been his usual custom for many years, +with the exception only of a short interval in the spring of 1850, +during which he was confined to his bed by injuries received in +attempting to stop a runaway horse by thoughtlessly placing himself +directly in its wake and throwing up his hands and shouting, which if he +had done so even a single moment sooner, must inevitably have frightened +the animal still more instead of checking its speed, although disastrous +enough to himself as it was, and rendered more melancholy and +distressing by reason of the presence of his wife's mother, who was +there and saw the sad occurrence, notwithstanding it is at least likely, +though not necessarily so, that she should be reconnoitring in another +direction when incidents occur, not being vivacious and on the look out, +as a general thing, but even the reverse, as her own mother is said to +have stated, who is no more, being a Christian woman and without guile, +as it were, or property, in consequence of the fire of 1849, which +destroyed every single thing she had in the world. But such is life. Let +us all take warning by this solemn occurrence, and let us endeavour so +to conduct ourselves that when we come to die we can do it. Let us place +our hands upon our hearts, and say with earnestness and sincerity that, +from this day forth, we will beware of the intoxicating bowl. + + +"FOREVER" +[Sidenote: _Calverley_] + + Forever; 'tis a single word! + Our rude forefathers deem'd it two: + Can you imagine so absurd + A view? + + Forever! What abysms of woe + The word reveals, what frenzy, what + Despair! For ever (printed so) + Did not. + + It looks, ah me! how trite and tame! + It fails to sadden or appal + Or solace--it is not the same + At all. + + O thou to whom it first occurr'd + To solder the disjoin'd, and dower + Thy native language with a word + Of power: + + We bless thee! Whether far or near + Thy dwelling, whether dark or fair + Thy kingly brow, is neither here + Nor there. + + But in men's hearts shall be thy throne + While the great pulse of England beats, + Thou coiner of a word unknown + To Keats! + + And nevermore must printer do + As men did long ago; but run + "For" into "ever," bidding two + Be one. + + Forever! passion-fraught, it throws + O'er the dim page a gloom, a glamour + It's sweet, it's strange; and I suppose + It's grammar. + + Forever! 'Tis a single word! + And yet our fathers deem'd it two: + Nor am I confident they err'd; + Are you? + + +OPEN AIR +[Sidenote: _Thoreau_] + +My spirits infallibly rise in proportion to the outward dreariness. Give +me the ocean, the desert or the wilderness! In the desert, pure air and +solitude compensate for want of moisture and fertility. The traveller +Burton says of it: "Your _morale_ improves; you become frank and +cordial, hospitable and single-minded.... In the desert, spirituous +liquors excite only disgust. There is a keen enjoyment in a mere animal +existence." They who have been travelling long on the steppes of Tartary +say: "On re-entering cultivated lands, the agitation, perplexity, and +turmoil of civilisation oppressed and suffocated us; the air seemed to +fail us, and we felt every moment as if about to die of asphyxia." When +I would recreate myself, I seek the darkest wood, the thickest and most +interminable, and, to the citizen, most dismal swamp. I enter a swamp as +a sacred place--a _sanctum sanctorum_. There is the strength, the marrow +of Nature. The wild-wood covers the virgin mould--and the same soil is +good for men and for trees. A man's health requires as many acres of +meadow to his prospect as his farm does loads of muck. There are the +strong meats on which he feeds. A town is saved, not more by the +righteous men in it than by the woods and swamps that surround it. A +township where one primitive forest waves above while another primitive +forest rots below--such a town is fitted to raise not only corn and +potatoes, but poets and philosophers for the coming ages. In such a soil +grew Homer and Confucius and the rest, and out of such a wilderness +comes the Reformer eating locusts and wild honey. + + +"MARY POWELL" +[Sidenote: _Anonymous_] + +_Journall_ + +Forest Hill, _May 1st, 1643_. + +Seventeenth Birthday. A gypsie Woman at the Gate would fame have tolde +my Fortune; but _Mother_ chased her away, saying she had doubtless +harboured in some of the low Houses in _Oxford_, and mighte bring us the +Plague. Coulde have cried for Vexation; she had promised to tell me the +Colour of my Husband's Eyes; but _Mother_ says she believes I shall +never have one, I am soe sillie. _Father_ gave me a gold Piece. Dear +_Mother_ is chafed, methinks, touching this Debt of five hundred Pounds, +which _Father_ says he knows not how to pay. Indeed, he sayd, +overnighte, his whole personal Estate amounts to but five hundred +Pounds, his Timber and Wood to four hundred more, or thereabouts; and +the Tithes and Messuages of _Whateley_ are no great Matter, being +mortgaged for about as much more, and he hath lent Sights of Money to +them that won't pay, so 'tis hard to be thus prest. Poor _Father!_ 'twas +good of him to give me this gold Piece. + +May 2nd.--Cousin _Rose_ married to Master _Roger Agnew_. Present, +_Father, Mother,_ and _Brother_ of _Rose_; _Father, Mother, Dick, Bob, +Harry_, and I; Squire _Paice_ and his Daughter _Audrey_; an olde Aunt of +Master _Roger's_, and one of his Cousins, a stiffe-backed Man with +large Eares, and such a long Nose! Cousin _Rose_ looked +bewtifulle--pitie so faire a Girl should marry so olde a Man--'tis +thoughte he wants not manie Years of fifty. + +May 7th.--New misfortunes in the Poultrie Yarde. Poor _Mother's_ Loyalty +cannot stand the Demands for her best Chickens, Ducklings, &c, for the +Use of his Majesty's Officers since the King hath beene in _Oxford_. She +accuseth my _Father_ of having beene wonne over by a few faire Speeches +to be more of a Royalist than his natural Temper inclineth him to; +which, of course, he will not admit. + +May 8th.--Whole Day taken up in a Visit to _Rose_, now a Week married, +and growne quite matronlie already. We reached _Sheepscote_ about an +Hour before Noone. A long, broade, strait Walke of green Turf, planted +with Holly-oaks, Sunflowers, &c, and some earlier flowers alreadie in +Bloom, led up to the rusticall Porch of a truly farm-like House, with +low gable Roofs, a long lattice Window on either Side the Doore, and +three Casements above. Such, and no more, is _Rose's_ House! But she is +happy, for she came running forthe, soe soone as she hearde _Clover's_ +Feet, and helped me from my Saddle all smiling, tho' she had not +expected to see us. We had Curds and Creams; and she wished it were the +Time of Strawberries, for she sayd they had large Beds; and then my +_Father_ and the Boys went forthe to looke for Master _Agnew_. Then +_Rose_ took me up to her Chamber, singing as she went; and the long, +low Room was sweet with flowers. Sayd I, "_Rose_, to be Mistress of this +pretty Cottage, t'were hardlie amisse to marry a man as old as Master +_Roger_." "Olde!" quoth she, "deare _Moll_, you must not deeme him olde; +why, he is but forty-two; and am not I twenty-three?" She lookt soe +earneste and hurte, that I coulde not but falle a laughing. + +May 9th.--_Mother_ gone to _Sandford_. She hopes to get Uncle _John_ to +lend _Father_ this Money. _Father_ says she may _try_. 'Tis harde to +discourage her with an ironicalle Smile, when she is doing all she can, +and more than manie Women woulde, to help _Father_ in his Difficultie; +but suche, she sayth somewhat bitterlie, is the lot of our Sex. She bade +_Father_ mind that she had brought him three thousand Pounds, and askt +what had come of them. Answered; helped to fille the Mouths of nine +healthy Children, and stop the Mouth of an easie Husband; soe, with a +Kiss, made it up. I have the Keys, and am left Mistress of alle, to my +greate Contentment; but the Children clamour for Sweetmeats, and +_Father_ sayth, "Remember, _Moll_, Discretion is the better Part of +Valour." + +After _Mother_ had left, went into the Paddock, to feed the Colts with +Bread; and while they were putting their Noses into _Robin's_ Pockets, +_Dick_ brought out the two Ponies, and set me on one of them, and we had +a mad Scamper through the Meadows and down the Lanes; I leading. Just at +the Turne of _Holford's Close_, came shorte upon a Gentleman walking +under the Hedge, clad in a sober, genteel Suit, and of most beautifulle +Countenance, with Hair like a Woman's, of a lovely pale brown, long and +silky, falling over his Shoulders. I nearlie went over him, for +_Clover's_ hard Forehead knocked against his Chest; but he stoode it +like a Rock; and lookinge first at me and then at _Dick_, he smiled and +spoke to my Brother, who seemed to know him, and turned about and walked +by us, sometimes stroking _Clover's_ shaggy Mane. I felte a little +ashamed; for _Dick_ had sett me on the Poney just as I was, my Gown +somewhat too shorte for riding: however, I drewe up my Feet and let +_Clover_ nibble a little Grasse, and then got rounde to the neare Side, +our new Companion stille between us. He offered me some wild Flowers, +and askt me theire Names; and when I tolde them, he sayd I knew more +than he did, though he accounted himselfe a prettie fayre Botaniste: and +we went on thus, talking of the Herbs and Simples in the Hedges; and I +sayd how prettie some of theire Names were, and that, methought, though +Adam had named alle the Animals in Paradise, perhaps Eve had named all +the Flowers. He lookt earnestlie at me, on this and muttered "Prettie." +Then _Dick_ askt of him News from _London_, and he spoke, methought, +reservedlie; ever and anon turning his bright, thoughtfulle Eyes on me. +At length, we parted at the Turn of the Lane. + +I askt _Dick_ who he was, and he told me he was one Mr. _John Milton_. + + +A SONNET +[Sidenote: _J.K. Stephen_] + + Two voices are there: one is of the deep; + It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, + Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, + Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: + And one is of an old half-witted sheep + Which bleats articulate monotony, + And indicates that two and one are three, + That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep: + And, Wordsworth, both are thine: at certain times + Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes, + The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst: + At other times--good Lord! I'd rather be + Quite unacquainted with the A.B.C. + Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst. + + +EPIGRAMS +[Sidenote: _Matthew Prior_] + + To John I ow'd great obligation; + But John, unhappily, thought fit + To publish it to all the nation: + Sure John and I are more than quit. + + Yes, every poet is a fool: + By demonstration Ned can show it: + Happy, could Ned's inverted rule + Prove every fool to be a poet. + + +DR. JOHNSON AT COURT +[Sidenote: _Boswell_] + +In February, 1767, there happened one of the most remarkable incidents +of Johnson's life, which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which +he loved to relate with all its circumstances, when requested by his +friends. This was his being honoured by a private conversation with his +Majesty, in the library at the Queen's House. He had frequently visited +those splendid rooms, and noble collection of books, which he used to +say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have +made in the time which the King had employed. Mr. Barnard, the +librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could +contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary +taste in that place--so that he had here a very agreeable resource at +leisure hours. + +His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased +to signify a desire that he should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to +the library. Accordingly, the next time that Johnson did come, as soon +as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the +fire, he seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apartment +where the King was, and, in obedience to his Majesty's commands, +mentioned that Dr. Johnson was then in the library. His Majesty said +that he was at leisure, and would go to him: upon which Mr. Barnard +took one of the candles that stood on the King's table, and lighted his +Majesty through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into +the library, of which his Majesty had the key. Being entered, Mr. +Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still in a +profound study, and whispered him, "Sir, here is the King." Johnson +started up, and stood still. His Majesty approached him, and at once was +courteously easy. + +His Majesty began by observing that he understood he came sometimes to +the library: and then mentioned his having heard that the Doctor had +been lately at Oxford, asked him if he was not fond of going thither. To +which Johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to Oxford +sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. The King then asked +him what they were doing at Oxford. Johnson answered, he could not much +commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for +they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time +printing Polybius. He was then asked whether there were better libraries +at Oxford or Cambridge. He answered, he believed the Bodleian was larger +than any they had at Cambridge; at the same time adding, "I hope, +whether we have more books or not than they have at Cambridge, we shall +make as good use of them as they do." Being asked whether All-Souls or +Christ Church library was the largest he answered, "All-Souls library is +the largest we have, except the Bodleian." "Aye," said the King, "that +is the public library." + +His Majesty inquired if he was then writing anything. He answered he was +not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now +read to acquire more knowledge. The king, as it should seem with a view +to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to +continue his labours, then said, "I do not think you borrow much from +anybody." Johnson said he thought he had already done his part as a +writer. "I should have thought so too," said the king, "if you had not +written so well." Johnson observed to me, upon this, that "no man could +have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay. It +was decisive." When asked by another friend, at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, +whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, "No, +sir. When the King had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to +bandy civilities with my sovereign." Perhaps no man who had spent his +whole life in courts could have shown a more nice and dignified sense of +true politeness than Johnson did in this instance.... + +During the whole of this interview, Johnson talked to his Majesty with +profound respect, but still in his firm, manly manner, with a sonorous +voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the +levee and in the drawing-room. After the king withdrew, Johnson showed +himself highly pleased with his Majesty's conversation and gracious +behaviour. He said to Mr. Barnard, "Sir, they may talk of the king as +they will; but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen." And he +afterwards observed to Mr. Langton, "Sir, his manners are those of as +fine a gentleman as we may suppose Louis the Fourteenth or Charles the +Second." + +At Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where a circle of Johnson's friends was +collected round him to hear his account of this memorable conversation, +Dr. Joseph Warton, in his frank and lively manner, was very active in +pressing him to mention the particulars. "Come now, sir, this is an +interesting matter; do favour us with it." Johnson, with great good +humour, complied. + +He told them, "I found his Majesty wished I should talk, and I made it +my business to talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to by his +sovereign. In the first place, a man cannot be in a passion--" Here some +question interrupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly +would have pointed out and illustrated many circumstances of advantage, +from being in a situation where the powers of the mind are at once +excited to vigorous exertion and tempered by reverential awe. + + +LANDORISMS +[Sidenote: _Landor_] + + From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass + Like little ripples down a sunny river; + Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass, + Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever. + + * * * * * + + Metellus is a lover: one whose ear + (I have been told) is duller than his sight. + The day of his departure had drawn near; + And (meeting her beloved over-night) + Softly and tenderly Corinna sigh'd: + "Won't you be quite as happy now without me?" + Metellus, in his innocence replied, + "Corinna! O Corinna! can you doubt me?" + + * * * * * + + One leg across his wide arm-chair, + Sat Singleton, and read Voltaire; + And when (as well he might) he hit + Upon a splendid piece of wit, + He cried: "I do declare now, this + Upon the whole is not amiss." + And spent a good half-hour to show + By metaphysics why 'twas so. + + * * * * * + + "Why do I smile?" To hear you say, + "One month, and then the shortest day!" + The shortest, whate'er month it be, + Is the bright day you pass with me. + + * * * * * + + Each year bears something from us as it flies, + We only blow it farther with our sighs. + + +WIT AND LAUGHTER +[Sidenote: _Hazlitt_] + +There is nothing more ridiculous than laughter without a cause, nor +anything more troublesome than what are called laughing people. A +professed laugher is as contemptible and tiresome a character as a +professed wit: the one is always contriving something to laugh at, the +other is always laughing at nothing. An excess of levity is as +impertinent as an excess of gravity. A character of this sort is well +personified by Spenser, in the "Damsel of the Idle Lake": + + Who did assay + To laugh at shaking of the leaves light. + +Any one must be mainly ignorant, or thoughtless, who is surprised at +everything he sees; or wonderfully conceited, who expects everything to +conform to his standard of propriety. Clowns and idiots laugh on all +occasions; and the common failing of wishing to be thought satirical +often runs through whole families in country places, to the great +annoyance of their neighbours. To be struck with incongruity in whatever +comes before us does not argue great comprehension or refinement of +perception, but rather a looseness and flippancy of mind and temper, +which prevents the individual from connecting any two ideas steadily or +consistently together. It is owing to a natural crudity and +precipitateness of the imagination, which assimilates nothing properly +to itself. People who are always laughing, at length laugh on the wrong +side of their faces; for they cannot get others to laugh with them. In +like manner, an affectation of wit by degrees hardens the heart, and +spoils good company and good manners. A perpetual succession of good +things puts an end to common conversation. There is no answer to a jest, +but another; and even where the ball can be kept up in this way without +ceasing, it tires the patience of the bystanders, and runs the speakers +out of breath. Wit is the salt of conversation, not the food. + + +LOVE IN WINTER +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + + Between the berried holly-bush + The blackbird whistled to the thrush: + "Which way did bright-eyed Bella go? + Look, Speckle-breast, across the snow,-- + Are those her dainty tracks I see, + That wind beside the shrubbery?" + + The throstle pecked the berries still. + "No need for looking, Yellowbill; + Young Frank was there an hour ago, + Half frozen, waiting in the snow; + His callow beard was white with rime,-- + 'Tchuck,--'tis a merry pairing-time!" + + "What would you?" twittered in the wren; + "These are the reckless ways of men. + I watched them bill and coo as though + They thought the sign of spring was snow; + If men but timed their loves as we, + 'Twould save this inconsistency." + + "Nay, gossip," chirped the robin, "nay; + I like their unreflective way. + Besides, I heard enough to show + Their love is proof against the snow:-- + 'Why wait,' he said, 'why wait for May, + When love can warm a winter's day?'" + + +MENTAL PHOTOGRAPHS +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +I have received from the publishers, New York, a neatly-printed page of +questions, with blanks for answers, and am requested to fill those +blanks. These questions are so arranged as to ferret out the most secret +points of a man's nature without his ever noticing what the idea is +until it is all done, and his "character" gone for ever. A number of +these sheets are bound together and called a Mental Photograph Album. +Nothing could induce me to fill those blanks but the asseveration of my +pastor, that it will benefit my race by enabling young people to see +what I am, and giving them an opportunity to become like somebody else. +This overcomes my scruples. I have but little character, but what I have +I am willing to part with for the public good. I do not boast of this +character, further than that I built it up by myself, at odd hours, +during the last thirty years, and without other educational aid than I +was able to pick up in the ordinary schools and colleges. I have filled +the blanks as follows: + +What is your favourite... + +Colour?--Anything but dun. + +Tree?--Any that bears forbidden fruit. + +Hour in the Day?--The leisure hour. + +Perfume?--Cent, per cent. + +Style of Beauty?--The Subscriber's. + +Names, Male and Female?--_M'aimez_ (Maimie) for a female, and Tacus and +Marius for males. + +Painters?--Sign-painters. + +Poet?--Robert Browning, when he has a lucid interval. + +Poetess?--Timothy Titcomb. + +Prose Author?--Noah Webster, LL.D. + +Characters in Romance?--The Napoleon Family. + +In History?--King Herod. + +Book to take up for an hour?--Rothschild's pocket-book. + +If not yourself, who would you rather be?--The Wandering Jew, with a +nice annuity. + +What is your idea of happiness?--Finding the buttons all on. + +Your idea of Misery?--Breaking an egg in your pocket. + +What is your _bete noire_?--(What is my which?) + +What do you most dread?--Exposure. + +What do you believe to be your Distinguishing Characteristic?--Hunger. + +What is the Sublimest Passion of which human nature is capable?--Loving +your sweetheart's enemies. + +What are the Sweetest Words in the world?--"Not Guilty." + +What is your Aim in Life?--To endeavour to be absent when my time comes. + +What is your Motto?--Be virtuous, and you will be eccentric. + + +ANGLING CHEER +[Sidenote: _Izaak Walton_] + +Let me tell you, Scholar, that Diogenes walked on a day, with his +friend, to see a country fair; where he saw ribbons, and +looking-glasses, and nut-crackers, and fiddles, and hobby-horses, and +many other gimcracks; and, having observed them, and all the other +finnimbruns that make a complete country-fair, he said to his friend, +"Lord, how many things are there in this world of which Diogenes hath no +need!" And truly it is so, or might be so, with very many who vex and +toil themselves to get what they have no need of. Can any man charge +God, that he hath not given him enough to make his life happy? No, +doubtless; for nature is content with a little. And yet you shall hardly +meet with a man that complains not of some want; though he, indeed, +wants nothing but his will; it may be, nothing but his will of his poor +neighbour, for not worshipping, or not flattering him: and thus, when we +might be happy and quiet, we create trouble to ourselves. I have heard +of a man that was angry with himself because he was no taller; and of a +woman that broke her looking-glass because it would not show her face to +be as young and handsome as her next neighbour's was. And I knew another +to whom God had given health and plenty; but a wife that nature had made +peevish, and her husband's riches had made purse-proud; and must, +because she was rich, and for no other virtue, sit in the highest pew in +the church; which being denied her, she engaged her husband into a +contention for it, and at last into a lawsuit with a dogged neighbour +who was as rich as he, and had a wife as peevish and purse-proud as the +other: and this lawsuit begot higher oppositions, and actionable words, +and more vexations and lawsuits; for you must remember that both were +rich, and must therefore have their wills. Well! this wilful, +purse-proud lawsuit lasted during the life of the first husband; after +which his wife vext and chid, and chid and vext, till she also chid and +vext herself into her grave: and so the wealth of these poor rich people +was curst into a punishment, because they wanted meek and thankful +hearts; for those only can make us happy. I knew a man that had health +and riches; and several houses, all beautiful, and ready furnished; and +would often trouble himself and family to be removing from one house to +another: and being asked by a friend why he removed so often from one +house to another, replied, "It was to find content in some one of them." +But his friend, knowing his temper, told him, "If he would find content +in any of his houses, he must leave himself behind him; for content will +never dwell but in a meek and quiet soul." And this may appear, if we +read and consider what our Saviour says in St. Matthew's Gospel; for He +there says: "Blessed be the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy. +Blessed be the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed be the +poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." And, "Blessed be +the meek, for they shall possess the earth." Not that the meek shall not +also obtain mercy, and see God, and be comforted, and at last come to +the kingdom of heaven: but in the meantime, he, and he only, possesses +the earth, as he goes towards that kingdom of heaven, by being humble +and cheerful, and content with what his good God has allotted him. He +has no turbulent, repining, vexatious thoughts that he deserves better; +nor is vext when he sees others possest of more honour or more riches +than his wise God has allotted for his share; but he possesses what he +has with a meek and contented quietness, such a quietness as makes his +very dreams pleasing, both to God and himself. + + +APPLES +[Sidenote: _Byron_] + + When Newton saw an apple fall, he found + In that slight startle from his contemplation-- + 'Tis _said_ (for I'll not answer above ground + For any sage's creed or calculation)-- + A mode of proving that the earth turn'd round + In a most natural whirl, call'd "gravitation"; + And this is the sole mortal who could grapple, + Since Adam, with a fall, or with an apple. + + +A LITTLE MORAL ADVICE +[Sidenote: _Sydney Smith_] + +It is surprising to see for what foolish causes men hang themselves. The +most silly repulse, the most trifling ruffle of temper, or derangement +of stomach, anything seems to justify an appeal to the razor or the +cord. I have a contempt for persons who destroy themselves. Live on, and +look evil in the face; walk up to it, and you will find it less than you +imagined, and often you will not find it at all; for it will recede as +you advance. Any fool may be a suicide. When you are in a melancholy +fit, first suspect the body, appeal to rhubarb and calomel, and send for +the apothecary; a little bit of gristle sticking in the wrong place, an +untimely consumption of custard, excessive gooseberries, often cover the +mind with clouds and bring on the most distressing views of human life. + +I start up at two o'clock in the morning, after my first sleep, in an +agony of terror, and feel all the weight of life upon my soul. It is +impossible that I can bring up such a family of children; my sons and +daughters will be beggars! I shall live to see those whom I love exposed +to the scorn and contumely of the world!--But stop, thou child of +sorrow, and humble imitator of Job, and tell me on what you dined. Was +not there soup and salmon, and then a plate of beef, and then duck, +blanc-mange, cream cheese, diluted with beer, claret, champagne, hock, +tea, coffee, and noyeau? And after all this you talk of the _mind_ and +the evils of life! These kinds of cases do not need meditation, but +magnesia. Take short views of life. What am I to do in these times with +such a family of children? So I argued, and lived dejected and with +little hope; but the difficulty vanished as life went on. An uncle died, +and left me some money; an aunt died, and left me more; my daughter +married well; I had two or three appointments, and before life was half +over became a prosperous man. And so will you. Every one has uncles and +aunts who are mortal; friends start up out of the earth; time brings a +thousand chances in your favour; legacies fall from the clouds. Nothing +so absurd as to sit down and wring your hands because all the good which +may happen to you in twenty years has not taken place at this precise +moment. + +The greatest happiness which can happen to any one is to cultivate a +love of reading. Study is often dull because it is improperly managed. I +make no apology for speaking of myself, for as I write anonymously +nobody knows who I am, and if I did not, very few would be the +wiser--but every man speaks more firmly when he speaks from his own +experience. I read four books at a time; some classical book perhaps on +Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. The "History of France," we will +say, on the evenings of the same days. On Tuesday, Thursday, and +Saturday, Mosheim, or Lardner, and in the evening of those days, +Reynolds's Lectures or Burns's Travels. Then I have always a standing +book of poetry, and a novel to read when I am in the humour to read +nothing else. Then I translate some French into English one day, and +re-translate it the next; so that I have seven or eight pursuits going +on at the same time, and this produces the cheerfulness of diversity, +and avoids that gloom which proceeds from hanging a long while over a +single book. I do not recommend this as a receipt for becoming a learned +man, but for becoming a cheerful one. + +Nothing contributes more certainly to the animal spirits than +benevolence. Servants and common people are always about you; make +moderate attempts to please everybody, and the effort will insensibly +lead you to a more happy state of mind. Pleasure is very reflective, and +if you give it you will feel it. The pleasure you give by kindness of +manner returns to you, and often with compound interest. The receipt for +cheerfulness is not to have one motive only in the day for living, but a +number of little motives; a man who, from the time he rises till +bedtime, conducts himself like a gentleman, who throws some little +condescension into his manner to superiors, and who is always contriving +to soften the distance between himself and the poor and ignorant, is +always improving his animal spirits, and adding to his happiness. + +I recommend lights as a great improver of animal spirits. How is it +possible to be happy with two mould candles ill snuffed? You may be +virtuous, and wise, and good, but two candles will not do for animal +spirits. Every night the room in which I sit is lighted up like a town +after a great naval victory, and in this cereous galaxy, and with a +blazing fire, it is scarcely possible to be low-spirited; a thousand +pleasing images spring up in the mind, and I can see the little blue +demons scampering off like parish boys pursued by the beadle. + + +MRS. PARTINGTON +[Sidenote: _Sydney Smith_] + +As for the possibility of the House of Lords preventing ere long a +reform of Parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever +entered into human imagination. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but +the attempt of the Lords to stop the progress of Reform reminds me very +forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the +excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there +set in a great flood upon that town--the tide rose to an incredible +height, the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was +threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible +storm, Dame Partington, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door +of her house with mop and pattens, trundling her mop, squeezing out the +sea-water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic +was roused, Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you +that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. +She was excellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled +with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease--be quiet and steady--you +will beat--Mrs. Partington. + + +HOW MARK EDITED AN AGRICULTURAL PAPER +[Sidenote: _Mark Twain_] + +I did not take the temporary editorship of an agricultural paper without +misgivings. Neither would a landsman take command of a ship without +misgivings. But I was in circumstances that made the salary an object. +The regular editor of the paper was going off for a holiday, and I +accepted the terms he offered, and took his place. + +The sensation of being at work again was luxurious, and I wrought all +the week with unflagging pleasure. We went to press, and I waited a day +with some solicitude to see whether my effort was going to attract any +notice. As I left the office, toward sundown, a group of men and boys at +the foot of the stairs dispersed with one impulse, and gave me +passage-way, and I heard one or two of them say, "That's him!" I was +naturally pleased by this incident. The next morning I found a similar +group at the foot of the stairs, and scattering couples and individuals +standing here and there in the street, and over the way, watching me +with interest. The group separated and fell back as I approached, and I +heard a man say, "Look at his eye!" I pretended not to observe the +notice I was attracting, but secretly I was pleased with it, and was +purposing to write an account of it to my aunt. I went up the short +flight of stairs, and heard cheery voices and a ringing laugh as I drew +near the door, which I opened, and caught a glimpse of two young +rural-looking men, whose faces blanched and lengthened when they saw me, +and then they both plunged through the window with a great crash. I was +surprised. + +In about half an hour an old gentleman, with a flowing beard and a fine +but rather austere face, entered, and sat down at my invitation. He +seemed to have something on his mind. He took off his hat and set it on +the floor, and got out of it a red silk handkerchief and a copy of our +paper. + +He put the paper on his lap, and, while he polished his spectacles with +his handkerchief, he said, "Are you the new editor?" + +I said I was. + +"Have you ever edited an agricultural paper before?" + +"No," I said; "this is my first attempt." + +"Very likely. Have you had any experience in agriculture practically?" + +"No; I believe I have not." + +"Some instinct told me so," said the old gentleman, putting on his +spectacles, and looking over them at me with asperity, while he folded +his paper into a convenient shape. "I wish to read you what must have +made me have that instinct. It was this editorial. Listen, and see if it +was you that wrote it: 'Turnips should never be pulled; it injures them. +It is much better to send a boy up and let him shake the tree.' Now, +what do you think of that?--for I really suppose you wrote it?" + +"Think of it? Why, I think it is good. I think it is sense. I have no +doubt that every year millions and millions of bushels of turnips are +spoiled in this township alone by being pulled in a half-ripe condition, +when, if they had sent a boy up to shake the tree--" + +"Shake your grandmother! Turnips don't grow on trees!" + +"Oh, they don't, don't they? Well, who said they did? The language was +intended to be figurative, wholly figurative. Anybody that knows +anything will know that I meant that the boy should shake the vine." + +Then this old person got up and tore his paper all into small shreds, +and stamped on them, and broke several things with his cane, and said I +did not know as much as a cow; and then went out and banged the door +after him, and, in short, acted in such a way that I fancied he was +displeased about something. But, not knowing what the trouble was, I +could not be any help to him. + +Pretty soon after this a long, cadaverous creature, with lanky locks +hanging down to his shoulders, and a week's stubble bristling from the +hills and valleys of his face, darted within the door, and halted +motionless with finger on lip, and head and body bent in listening +attitude. No sound was heard. Still he listened. No sound. Then he +turned the key in the door, and came elaborately tip-toeing toward me +till he was within long reaching distance of me, when he stopped, and, +after scanning my face with intense interest for a while, drew a folded +copy of our paper from his bosom, and said: + +"There, you wrote that. Read it to me--quick! Relieve me. I suffer." + +I read as follows: and, as the sentences fell from my lips, I could see +the relief come, I could see the drawn muscles relax, and the anxiety go +out of the face, and rest and peace steal over the features like the +merciful moonlight over a desolate landscape: + +"The guano is a fine bird, but great care is necessary in rearing it. It +should not be imported earlier than June or later than September. In the +winter it should be kept in a warm place, where it can hatch out its +young. + +"It is evident that we are to have a backward season for grain. +Therefore it will be well for the farmer to begin setting out his +corn-stalks and planting his buckwheat cakes in July instead of August. + +"Concerning the Pumpkin.--This berry is a favourite with the natives of +the interior of New England, who prefer it to the gooseberry for the +making of fruit-cake, and who likewise give it the preference over the +raspberry for feeding cows, as being more filling and fully as +satisfying. The pumpkin is the only esculent of the orange family that +will thrive in the North, except the gourd and one or two varieties of +the squash. But the custom of planting it in the front yard with the +shrubbery is fast going out of vogue, for it is now generally conceded +that the pumpkin as a shade tree is a failure. + +"Now, as the warm weather approaches, and the ganders begin to spawn--" + +The excited listener sprang toward me to shake hands, and said: + +"There, there--that will do. I know I am all right now, because you have +read it just as I did, word for word. But, stranger, when I first read +it this morning, I said to myself, I never, never believed it before, +notwithstanding my friends kept me under watch so strict, but now I +believe I _am_ crazy; and with that I fetched a howl that you might have +heard two miles, and started out to kill somebody--because, you know, I +knew it would come to that sooner or later, and so I might as well +begin. I read one of them paragraphs over again, so as to be certain, +and then I burned my house down and started. I have crippled several +people, and have got one fellow up a tree, where I can get him if I want +him. But I thought I would call in here as I passed along, and make the +thing perfectly certain; and now it _is_ certain, and I tell you it is +lucky for the chap that is in the tree. I should have killed him, sure, +as I went back. Good-bye, sir, good-bye; you have taken a great load off +my mind. My reason has stood the strain of one of your agricultural +articles, and I know that nothing can ever unseat it now. _Good_-bye." + +I felt a little uncomfortable about the cripplings and arsons this +person had been entertaining himself with, for I could not help feeling +remotely accessory to them. But these thoughts were quickly banished, +for the regular editor walked in! (I thought to myself, Now if you had +gone to Egypt, as I recommended you to, I might have had a chance to get +my hand in; but you wouldn't do it, and here you are. I sort of expected +you.) + +The editor was looking sad and perplexed and dejected. + +He surveyed the wreck which that old rioter and those two young farmers +had made, and then said: "This is a sad business--a very sad business. +There is the mucilage bottle broken, and six panes of glass, and a +spittoon and two candlesticks. But that is not the worst. The reputation +of the paper is injured--and permanently, I fear. True, there never was +such a call for the paper before, and it never sold such a large edition +or soared to such celebrity;--but does one want to be famous for lunacy, +and prosper upon the infirmities of his mind? My friend, as I am an +honest man, the street out here is full of people, and others are +roosting on the fences, waiting to get a glimpse of you, because they +think you are crazy. And well they might, after reading your editorials. +They are a disgrace to journalism. Why, what put it into your head that +you could edit a paper of this nature? You do not seem to know the first +rudiments of agriculture. You speak of a furrow and a harrow as being +the same thing; you talk of the moulting season for cows; and you +recommend the domestication of the polecat on account of its playfulness +and its excellence as a ratter! Your remark that clams will lie quiet if +music be played to them was superfluous--entirely superfluous. Nothing +disturbs clams. Clams _always_ lie quiet. Clams care nothing whatever +about music. Ah, heaven and earth, friend! if you had made the acquiring +of ignorance the study of your life, you could not have graduated with +higher honour than you could to-day. I never saw anything like it. Your +observation that the horse-chestnut as an article of commerce is +steadily gaining in favour is simply calculated to destroy this journal. +I want you to throw up your situation and go. I want no more holiday--I +could not enjoy it if I had it. Certainly not with you in my chair. I +would always stand in dread of what you might be going to recommend +next. It makes me lose all patience every time I think of your +discussing oyster-beds under the head of 'Landscape Gardening.' I want +you to go. Nothing on earth could persuade me to take another holiday. +Oh! why didn't you _tell_ me you didn't know anything about +agriculture?" + +"_Tell_ you, you cornstalk, you cabbage, you son of a cauliflower? It's +the first time I ever heard such an unfeeling remark. I tell you I have +been in the editorial business going on fourteen years, and it is the +first time I ever heard of a man's having to know anything in order to +edit a newspaper. You turnip! Who write the dramatic critiques for the +second-rate papers? Why, a parcel of promoted shoemakers and apprentice +apothecaries, who know just as much about good acting as I do about good +farming, and no more. Who review the books? People who never wrote one. +Who do up the heavy leaders on finance? Parties who have had the largest +opportunities for knowing nothing about it. Who criticise the Indian +campaigns? Gentlemen who do not know a war-whoop from a wigwam, and who +never have had to run a footrace with a tomahawk, or pluck arrows out of +the several members of their families to build the evening camp-fire +with. Who write the temperance appeals, and clamour about the flowing +bowl? Folks who will never draw another sober breath till they do it in +the grave. Who edit the agricultural papers, you--yam? Men, as a general +thing, who fail in the poetry line, yellow-coloured novel line, +sensation-drama line, city-editor line, and finally fall back on +agriculture as a temporary reprieve from the poorhouse. _You_ try to +tell _me_ anything about the newspaper business! Sir, I have been +through it from Alpha to Omaha, and I tell you that the less a man knows +the bigger noise he makes and the higher the salary he commands. Heaven +knows if I had but been ignorant instead of cultivated, and impudent +instead of diffident, I could have made a name for myself in this cold, +selfish world. I take my leave, sir. Since I have been treated as you +have treated me, I am perfectly willing to go. But I have done my duty. +I have fulfilled my contract as far as I was permitted to do it.... I +said I could run your circulation up to twenty thousand copies, and if I +had had two more weeks I'd have done it. And I'd have given you the best +class of readers that ever an agricultural paper had--not a farmer in +it, nor a solitary individual who could tell a water-melon tree from a +peach-vine to save his life. _You_ are the loser by this rupture, not +me, Pie-plant. Adios." + +I then left. + + +A TUR'BLE CHAP +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + If all t' kisses as Oi ha' tuke + Wuz zet down vair an' square inter buke, + Lard! Lard! 'twud make t' greaaet volk say: + _"What a tur'ble chap is ole Joe Gay!"_ + Vor it du zet ma brain a-swimmin' + Tu think o' all t' _hundered_ wimmin + As Oi ha' bussed 'hind hedge an' door + Zince vust Oi cuddled dree or vour. + Polly Potter, Trixie Trotter, Gertie Gillard, Zairy Zlee, + Zusan Zettle, Connie Kettle, Daisy Doble, La'ra Lee, + Hesther Holley, Jinny Jolly, Nelly Northam, Vanny Vail, + Ivery maid in Coompton Regis--dang it, whoy, + Oi've bussed 'em all! + + When Oi vust went to Zunday skule, + Passen's darter, on greaaet high stule, + Taakes me oop on 'ur lady knee, + An' kissed ov Oi, zo Oi kissed ov she! + An', arter skule, zure-ly, Oi vollers + T' little blushin' vemale scholars + All round t' orchards, an' under stacks, + Oi bussed t' lot, an' yew can ax-- + Polly Potter, Trixie Trotter, Gertie Gillard, Zairy Zlee, + Zusan Zettle, Connie Kettle, Daisy Doble, La'ra Lee, + Hesther Holley, Jinny Jolly, Nelly Northam, Vanny Vall, + Ivery gal in Coompton Regis--ax the lot, Oi've kissed 'em all! + + Thur's not a lane vur moiles around + But hassen heerd ma kisses zound, + Nor dru t' parish will 'ee vind + A door Oi hanna kissed behind; + An' now, wid crutch, an' back bent double, + T' rheumatiz doaen't gie naw trouble, + Vor all t' ould grannies handy-boi + Iz mazed, vair mazed, on cuddlin' Oi! + Pore-house Potter, toothless Trotter, gouty Gillard, splea-foot Zlee, + Zilly Zettle, cock-eyed Kettle, deaf ould Doble, limpin' Lee, + Husky Holley, jaundy Jolly, Nanny Northam, vractious Vall, + All t' ould gals in Coompton Regis, bless their hearts, Oi love 'em all! + + +MR. BROOKFIELD IN HIS YOUTH +[Sidenote: _W.H. Brookfield_] + +My Dear Venables, + +Notwithstanding the proverbial irregularity of the English mails and the +infamous practice of Government in embezzling all private letters for +the King's private reading, yours of the 17th eluded observation at the +post office so as to reach me; and was as acceptable as, considering the +wearisome frequency of your communications lately, could possibly be +expected. + +My last was a scrawl from Althorp--where we spent six weeks. That there +are 60,000 volumes you know. I read them all, excepting a pamphlet in a +_patois_ of the Sanscrit, written by a learned, but, I regret to add, +profane Hindoo Sectarian, the blasphemous drift of which was to prove +that Bramah's locks were not all patent. + +We went to town to the fiddling[9] which it was the pill[10] of the day +to cry down. I was much gratified by the show and altogether. I sate by +the Duke of Wellington, who was good enough to go out to fetch me a pot +of porter. When "See the Conquering Hero comes" was sung in _Judas +Maccabeus_, all eyes were turned upon me. I rose and bowed--but did not +think the place was suited for any more marked acknowledgment. The King +sang the Coronation Anthem exceedingly well, and Princess Victoria +whistled the "Dead March" in _Saul_ with, perhaps, rather less than her +usual effect. But the _chef d'oeuvre_ was confessed by all to be +Macaulay in "The Praise of God and of the Second Day." I rose a wiser, +and, I think, a sadder man. + +Bishop of Worcester spent two days here last week. He begged me with +tears in his eyes to be Bishop instead of him. I took a night to +consider of it and to examine into my fitness for such a charge--but in +the morning gave answer with the elaborateness which the occasion +demanded that I would see him ... first. + + +THE AUTHOR OF "ALICE" +[Sidenote: _Lewis Carroll_] + +DEAR SENIOR CENSOR,--In a desultory conversation on a point connected +with the dinner at our high table, you incidentally remarked to me that +lobster-sauce, "though a necessary adjunct to turbot, was not entirely +wholesome." + +It is entirely unwholesome. I never ask for it without reluctance; I +never take a second spoonful without a feeling of apprehension on the +subject of a possible nightmare. This naturally brings me to the subject +of Mathematics, and of the accommodation provided by the University for +carrying on the calculations necessary in that important branch of +Science. + +As Members of Convocation are called upon (whether personally, or, as is +less exasperating, by letter) to consider the offer of the Clarendon +Trustees, as well as every other subject of human or inhuman, interest, +capable of consideration, it has occurred to me to suggest for your +consideration how desirable roofed buildings are for carrying on +mathematical calculations; in fact, the variable character of the +weather in Oxford renders it highly inexpedient to attempt much +occupation, of a sedentary nature, in the open air. + +Again, it is often impossible for students to carry on accurate +mathematical calculations in close contiguity to one another, owing to +their mutual conversation; consequently these processes require +different rooms in which irrepressible conversationalists, who are found +to occur in every branch of Society, might be carefully and permanently +fixed. + +It may be sufficient, for the present, to enumerate the following +requisites--others might be added as funds permit: + +A. A very large room for calculating Greatest Common Measure. To this a +small one might be attached for Least Common Multiple: this, however, +might be dispensed with. + +B. A piece of open ground for keeping Roots and practising their +extraction: it would be advisable to keep Square Roots by themselves, as +their corners are apt to damage others. + +C. A room for reducing Fractions to their Lowest Terms. This should be +provided with a cellar for keeping the Lowest Terms when found, which +might also be available to the general body of Undergraduates, for the +purpose of "keeping Terms." + +D. A large room which might be darkened, and fitted up with a +magic-lantern, for the purpose of exhibiting circulating Decimals in the +act of circulation. This might also contain cupboards, fitted with glass +doors, for keeping the various Scales of Notation. + +E. A narrow strip of ground, railed off and carefully levelled for +investigating the properties of Asymptotes, and testing practically +whether Parallel Lines meet or not: for this purpose it should reach, to +use the expressive language of Euclid, "ever so far." + +This last process of "continually producing the lines," may require +centuries or more; but such a period, though long in the life of an +individual, is as nothing in the life of the University. + +As Photography is now very much employed in recording human expression, +and might possibly be adapted to Algebraical Expressions, a small +photographic room would be desirable, both for general use and for +representing the various phenomena of Gravity, Disturbance of +Equilibrium, Resolution, etc., which affect the features during severe +mathematical operations. + +May I trust that you will give your immediate attention to this most +important subject? + + Believe me, + Sincerely yours, + MATHEMATICUS.... + + +[Sidenote: _Miss E.G. Thomson_] + +It was at the end of December, 1878, that a letter, written in a +singularly legible and rather boyish-looking hand, came to me from +Christ Church, Oxford, signed "C.L. Dodgson." The writer said that he +had come across some fairy designs of mine, and he should like to see +some more of my work. By the same post came a letter from my London +publisher (who had supplied my address) telling me that the "Rev. C.L. +Dodgson" was "Lewis Carroll." + +"Alice in Wonderland" had long been one of my pet books, and, as one +regards a favourite author as almost a personal friend, I felt less +restraint than one usually feels in writing to a stranger, though I +carefully concealed my knowledge of his identity, as he had not chosen +to reveal it. + +This was the beginning of a frequent and delightful correspondence, and, +as I confessed to a great love for fairy lore of every description, he +asked me if I would accept a child's fairytale book he had written, +called "Alice in Wonderland." I replied that I knew it nearly all off by +heart, but that I should greatly prize a copy given to me by himself. By +return came "Alice," and "Through the Looking-glass," bound most +luxuriously in white calf and gold. And this is the grateful and kindly +note that came with them: "I am now sending you 'Alice,' and the +'Looking-glass' as well. There is an incompleteness about giving only +one, and besides, the one you bought was probably in red, and would not +match these. If you are at all in doubt as to what to do with the (now) +superfluous copy, let me suggest your giving it to some poor sick child. +I have been distributing copies to all the hospitals and convalescent +homes I can hear of, where there are sick children capable of reading +them, and though, of course, one takes some pleasure in the popularity +of the books elsewhere, it is not nearly so pleasant a thought to me as +that they may be a comfort and relief to children in hours of pain and +weariness. Still, no recipient _can_ be more appropriate than one who +seems to have been in fairyland herself, and to have seen, like the +'weary mariners' of old-- + + "Between the green brink and the running foam + White limbs unrobed to a crystal air, + Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest + To little harps of gold." + +"Do you ever come to London?" he asked in another letter; "if so, will +you allow me to call upon you?" + +Early in the summer I came up to study, and I sent him word that I was +in town. One night, coming into my room after a long day spent at the +British Museum, in the half-light I saw a card lying on the table: "Rev. +C.L. Dodgson." Bitter, indeed, was my disappointment at having missed +him, but, just as I was laying it sadly down, I spied a small T.O. in +the corner. On the back I read that he couldn't get up to my rooms early +or late enough to find me, so would I arrange to meet him at some museum +or gallery the day but one following? I fixed the South Kensington +Museum, by the "Schliemann" collection, at twelve o'clock. + +A little before twelve I was at the rendezvous, and then the humour of +the situation suddenly struck me, that I had not the ghost of an idea +what _he_ was like, nor would _he_ have any better chance of discovering +_me_! The room was fairly full of all sorts and conditions, as usual, +and I glanced at each masculine figure in turn, only to reject it as a +possibility of the one I sought. Just as the big clock had clanged out +twelve, I heard the high, vivacious voices and laughter of children +sounding down the corridor. + +At that moment a gentleman entered, two little girls clinging to his +hands, and, as I caught sight of the tall, slim figure, with the +cleanshaven, delicate, refined face, I said to myself, "_That's_ Lewis +Carroll." He stood for a moment, head erect, glancing swiftly over the +room, then, bending down, whispered something to one of the children; +she, after a moment's pause, pointed straight at me. + +Dropping their hands, he came forward, and, with that winning smile of +his that utterly banished the oppressive sense of the Oxford don, said +simply, "I am Mr. Dodgson; I was to meet you, I think?" To which I as +frankly smiled, and said, "How did you know me so soon?" + +"My little friend found you. I told her I had come to meet a young lady +who knew fairies, and she fixed on you at once. But _I_ knew you before +she spoke." + +_The Gentleman, January 29, 1898_. + + +AFTER MR. MASEFIELD +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + From '41 to '51 + I was an almost model son. + + From '51 to '62 + I wished to, but I didn't do. + + From '62 to '67 + I took the shortest cut to heaven. + + From '67 to '79 + I only drank one glass of wine. + + From '79 to '84 + I felt that I could do with more. + + From '84 to '96 + I found how hard it is to mix. + + From '96 to Nineteen-odd + Quod: + + +MISS STIPP OF PLOVER'S COURT +[Sidenote: _H.B._] + +In a neighbourhood of narrow streets and tunnelling alleys, where there +are few lamps and the policemen go two and two, where all day long you +see fierce-eyed women hooded with shawls coming out of greasy +street-doors with jugs in their hands, and where all day long sullen men +stand at the dark entry to court and alley with pipes in their mouths +and their hands in their pockets, and where the little children "awfully +reverse our Saviour's words, and are not of the Kingdom of Heaven, but +of the Kingdom of Hell"--in this dark, dangerous riverside +neighbourhood, with its foul odours and its filthy gutters, lives one of +the most defenceless women who ever came into human existence. + +I knock at a door in Plover's Court, and a half-dressed, half-starved, +and wholly dirty child, with no boots to her feet, opens to me; and when +this miserable heir of the ages, after she has stared at me like a +famished animal, learns that I wish to see Miss Stipp, she bids me "go +up." The narrow passage is hung with two lines of washing; and, pushing +through the avenue formed by these dank garments, I catch sight in the +stone-paved kitchen beyond of a big-headed, whitewashed-looking infant +sprawling on the floor collecting soap-suds, and a woman in the midst of +voluminous steam working her arms about in a dripping wash tub. + +The stairs up which I make my difficult way are strung with washing as +far as the first bend. The dampness of the atmosphere has converted the +dust and grime on banisters, wall, and stairs into a muddy dew. The +little doll's-house of a place reeks with the suffocating odour of gas, +fried fish, onions, and steam. In one of the two rooms on the first +floor, the door of which stands open, I see--and myself am seen, not to +say scowled at, by a couple of pipe-smoking navvies, three or four +ragged children, and a little rabbit of a flat-chested woman whose +complexion and the colour of her garments bear a striking resemblance to +moleskin, and whose thin hair is twisted up in front and held +comfortably in its place by a single steel curling-pin which seems to +occupy the whole breadth of her forehead. + +My rap on the panel of the other door is soon answered by a shrill, +cracked voice like the sputtering of a cheap phonograph, and opening the +flimsy door I find myself in a tiny topsy-turvy chamber, with all its +furniture dragged out of place, a pail of water in the centre of the +floor, a piece of scrubbing-soap on the table, and an unwrung +house-flannel soaking on the seat of a wooden chair. There is a nice, +old-fashioned, round-fronted chest-of-drawers with brass handles in the +room, but the most striking detail of its equipment is a stumpy and +amazingly abrupt bedstead against the wall, which is just big enough for +a big doll. The bedclothes of this eerie little cot are thrown back, +and in the centre of the rumpled mattress, in the hollow made by my +heroine's recumbent form, curled up in a sublime indifference to the +puffing and blowing of its mistress on the hearth, lies a shabby, +emaciated, and disgusting cat. + +At first I suppose Miss Stipp--Miss Emma Jane Stipp--who is polishing +the grate, to be _kneeling_ on the hearthstone; but when a bird-like +claw is stretched out to me, and the shrill, cracked voice says, "I'm +dirty, but hearty; sit down and enjoy yourself," I observe that the +little dwarf is actually _standing_ on the hearthstone, although her big +head does not come within several inches of the mantelpiece. Indeed, +with her twisted feet crossed over one another, so that the left foot +appears to be kicking and worrying the right foot, in order to take its +place, and the right foot, which turns upward, appears to be trying to +creep away from its enemy, as though it wanted to crawl up that enemy's +leg to laugh at it from the mocking vantage of its own knee--the little +old lady walks up and down on the hearthstone, her hand blacking and +polishing the grate as she goes, just as you may see another lady +walking up and down and taking the air on her doorstep. + + * * * * * + +The little dwarf is familiar to hundreds of Londoners. Always nursing +the wall, and using a miniature crooked stick exactly like a +question-mark, she hobbles through the streets like a half-human beetle, +until she reaches some such place as the approach to a railway station, +where she finds it profitable to stand as though in great pain, rolling +sheep's eyes at the hurrying crowd. And many of those tenderhearted +gentlemen and kind old ladies, and dear little overdressed children +returning from a visit to Old Drury or the Tower of London, who have +slipped a penny or a sixpenny-bit into the claw of the dwarf, must often +have asked themselves at the time what manner of woman she is, and +bothered themselves to imagine how on earth she lives. The old +creature--for she is over seventy--is counted in statistics among the +proud population of this Seat of Empire, and she is as much subject to +the cosmic laws and as much a member of the human family as the tallest +and most swaggering Lifeguards-man who ever had "Cook's Son!" shouted at +him by irreverent urchin. + +How she views the universe from her altitude of a yard, or a yard and +three inches; what her attitude is to God and man, and how life goes +with the old veteran after seventy odd years of its buffeting--these +were some of the mysteries which I brought with me into her back room by +the riverside for their unveiling by Miss Emma Stipp herself. + + * * * * * + +"I'm late this mornin', I am," she says, in her shrill fashion, standing +right against the fire like a demon that no flame can consume, and +vigorously rubbing at the grate with her black-lead brush. "The cause is +_'im_," she continues, turning to point the brush at the cat sleeping +on her bed, after she has rubbed the red tip of her long nose with a +portion of her knuckles and a portion of the brush. "Oh, he's a villain, +a dreadful villain he is," she cries, with exasperation, returning to +her work; "he worries my life out, he do, the 'orrid varmint. Last night +he didn't come home, he didn't. I set up for him, but he didn't come. +'Oh,' I says, 'if you're keepin' low company again,' I says, 'you can +stop out all night,' I says, 'for I'll sit up for you no longer; so +there, my ugly beauty.' And then in the middle of the night I wake up, I +do, feeling that cold, and sneezin' and snuffin', and irritatin' I was +from top to toe; and blest if Master Tom hadn't got upon the +window-sill, bust open that there piece of brown paper I had pasted over +the broken pane, I had, and let hisself in Yankee-doodle fashion, and +left me to perish with the cold." + +Her lined and wrinkled face, when she turns it to us, is not without the +vestiges of attraction. The head, with its grey hair parted down the +centre, is well-shaped; the forlorn-looking eyes are a pale-blue, like +faded forget-me-nots; the thin, flexible nose, which is always moist, +and the long, firm chin incline towards the formation known as the +nut-cracker. But for her abbreviated trunk, and those few pathetic +inches of twisted leg--chiefly feet--she might have passed for a +matronly-looking and rather handsome old harridan, half Scotch and half +Irish. + +"What with the cat," she says, and then, letting her voice run up to a +screech, she proceeds furiously, "and that devil of a woman downstairs! +Oh! she's a wicked woman, she is, a _wicked_ woman, a _very_ wicked +woman; she's got some of my things because I'm behind-hand in my rent, +and she says she won't give them up; but she _shall_. I'll see that she +do. Ah! I'll have the law on her--the nasty, swearing, beastly--Oh! +she's a _wicked_ woman." + + * * * * * + +Think of the majesty of the English law which enables this pathetic yard +of twisted womanhood to hold her own in a foul court against "a wicked +woman" with arms like a bluejacket! But Miss Stipps is used to fighting +her own battles. When children yell after her, "Old Goody Witch!" she +swings about and takes her stick to them, pouring out such a flow of +imprecation upon their young heads that they run away in a panic of +alarm. Moreover, I have it on reliable authority that when Miss Stipps +steps over the way with her jug for a pint of porter, she is in the +habit, after reaching up her arm to receive the jug back from the +barman, of telling the young man pretty sharply that she isn't buying +froth, and that she'll trouble him to do a blow at the jug and to give +another pull to his tap, which won't hurt him, it won't, as he ain't yet +the proprietor of the place, and not likely to be, neither, if he treats +poor ladies in sich a wulgar and Sheeny fashion. + +I beg Miss Stipp to desist from her labour of dabbing the grate with +streaky spots of black-lead, and implore her to take a seat and indulge +herself for an easy hour in anecdotal reminiscences. Miss Stipp yields +to my blandishments--that is to say, she backs against a little +cobbler's stool, a stool which the Baby Bear in that immortal legend of +"The Three Bears" would have found several sizes too small for it, and +appears to slope half an inch to the rear. By the action of crossing her +hands in her lap, and by the society smile on her face as she turns her +dewy nose in my direction, I gather, though I should never have +discovered it for myself, that Miss Stipp is seated. + +We are now in for a thoroughly comfortable and intimate conversation. +The cat is fast asleep. The spinster's mantelpiece, which is decorated +with pictorial advertisements of such highly inappropriate commodities +as baby's food and tobacco, wears an aspect which I am content to regard +as social. And the cupboard beside the fireplace, although the bottom +floor is used as a coal-cellar, suggests, with its crowded shelves of +dishes, egg-cups, plates, biscuit-boxes, and paper bags, that we are in +for a little friendly banquet, which, if not good enough for his Grace +of Canterbury, might yet have inspired him of Assisi to ask a blessing. + + * * * * * + +"Well, you must know," says Miss Stipp, looking at the fire, and nodding +her head as she speaks, "that I am one of ten, that I was born in +Blackfriars--born in Blackfriars, I was--and that all the boys died, and +that only me, who was born a cripple--born a cripple, I was--and my two +sisters ever grew up to be a comfort to my poor mother. What father was, +if ever he was anythin' at all, I _don't_ know; and if I ever did know I +think it was somethin' connected in some roundabout fashion, it was, +with drains. But he died early, and that was an end of _him_. My poor +mother, she was a laundress--a beautiful laundress she was, a very +beautiful laundress--and she used to do for a gentleman who was a +dissentin' minister--a dissentin' minister he was--and most particular +about his linen, and lived in the big square just by the church at the +corner, number five; and I've knowed my poor mother fret herself almost +to death, she would, if one of them little blisters ever come up on the +gentleman's shirt-fronts. And I used to help my poor mother, I did, by +carryin' the gentleman's linen to number five in the big square, and +that was the fust job I ever did for my poor mother, and proud she was, +and proud I was, too, that I could be sich a help to her. + +"We was poorer than 'most anybody in Blackfriars, where we lived, and a +terribly poor neighbourhood it were--terribly poor; and so one of my +sisters got married, she did, and a wonderfully big family she had, but +most of 'em died sharp, so _that_ was all right, excep' that the +berryin' cost a tidy bit of money, it did. Then my other sister went out +to service in Brixton. I useter go there one day a week--Toosday it +was--to clean the silver and the soup tureens, and they give me a +shillin', they did, I useter help sister in the kitchen--not a cook I +wasn't, you must understand, but I useter help with the vegetables and +the dishin'-up, and they give me a shillin'. It was a very nice house; a +nice house, and no mistake about it. The lady had married a gardener--a +gentleman's gardener, he was; and there was a carpet all over the +dining-room floor--a nice carpet, a Brussels carpet, an ol' Brussels +carpet; and she kep' a parrot--oh, a nasty, spiteful parrot, it was--I +useter hate it, I did, the nasty, squawlin' beast; and it was more to +her than any baby; and I useter clean the silver and the soup tureens, +and do the vegetables and dish-up, Toosdays it was; and they give me a +shillin'. + +"All by meself I useter go, there and back, and one night"--she lifts +her claws and gurgles at the memory, with a slow smile creepin' +gradually through all the wrinkles on her face--"Oh, didn't I give my +poor mother a fright, and no mistake about it! It was one of them nasty, +stinkin' cold, freezin' nights; the streets like ice, they was, and the +'bus horses couldn't get along nohow, for all they was roughed; and it +was past eleven o'clock, it was--yes, past eleven o'clock, it +was--before ever I got home; and there was my poor mother standing at +the door of the alms-house where we was livin' in Blackfriars--my poor +mother and me--and cryin' and wringin' her hands and makin' a to-do, she +was, thinking as how she had lost me altogether. + + * * * * * + +"Then my poor mother died," says Miss Stipp sadly, drawing her hand +across the end of her nose. "I forgit the year, but it was the fust year +that ever there come a August Bank Holiday. And she died on that day, my +poor mother did. Yuss, she died on that day. She didn't seem like dyin' +at all that there mornin,' she didn't. She eat a beautiful dinner, a bit +of boiled meat--I forgit whether it was beef or mutton--mutton, I think +it was, but anyway boiled meat; and she eat a beautiful dinner, my poor +mother did--boiled meat, greens, and pertaters; and she eat a nice +tea--well, nothin' partickler in the way of a tea, but a _comfortable_ +tea; and when I came home, 'Oh Emma Jane,' she says, 'I wish I hadn't +never let you go to church this day; for this here,' she says, 'is my +very last day on earth,' she says, 'and I'm goin',' she says, 'to your +father in heaven, to take care of _him_, and I shall have to leave _you_ +all alone,' she says, 'to look after yourself; and I'm most afeard,' my +poor mother said, 'what'll become of you,' she says; 'and don't forgit,' +she says, 'to say your prayers, and go reggeler to the Communion, and +always be good and obedient, and don't git doin' no vile sin, and please +God we'll all meet in heaven,' she says, 'and be more happy,' she says, +'nor what we have ever been here in Blackfriars.' And it was August Bank +Holiday, the first August Bank Holiday that ever was; and it was a +beautiful day, lovely weather it was, and my poor mother had a fit, and +never was quite the same; and she died." + +Miss Stipp fetches a sigh, and shakes her head at the fire. She has been +living in the past, watching with the mind's eye her poor mother fade +slowly into eternity on that beautiful August day--the little almshouse +bedroom flooded, let us hope, with golden light, for all it was in +Blackfriars. She comes to herself with a little jerk, turns her head +slowly round to us, and smiles one of her poor, pathetic, +half-entreating smiles which make her seem like another Maggie. + +And, strange to relate, Miss Stipp was confirmed in St. George's Church, +on whose muddied steps Little Dorrit, Little Mother, sat in far-off days +with the big head of poor Maggie on her lap. "It was beautiful, +beautiful it was, that there Confirmation," says Miss Stipp. "The +bishop, he put his hands on my head, just there he did, put 'em on, and +I was kneelin' at his feet, and he said the words, whatever they was, +and I felt his hands pressin' on my hair; of course, I had done it werry +nice for the occasion; and I was quite a public character; yuss! and +many's the time I've been up to St. George's Church since those days and +fancied to myself that I was actin' the part again." + + * * * * * + +Upon the death of her mother the orphan went to live with her married +sister, whose large family was always reducing itself by the most +surprising feats in infant mortality. She helped in the house. She +earned her keep by doing little things for the dying babies, and +interviewing the undertaker and bargaining for special terms, seeing +what a good customer her sister was, when those poor babies were dead. +But that great source of crisis in the households of the poor--the +mother-in-law--came to live in the Herodian household, and Emma Jane had +such a warm time of it with this old Tartar of a woman that she +determined to "get out of it" as soon as possible. + +"So I had a letter wrote," she says, getting up to scrub the +hearthstone, a feat she performs without kneeling, for the merest +forward tilt of her body brings her hands upon the floor. "Yuss, I had a +letter wrote, for I'm not much of a writer myself, I ain't--a letter +wrote to my other sister what was out in service in the country, down +Brockley way, and then I went to live with her." + +"In the house where she was a servant?" I inquire. + +"Yuss. That was it. I went to live with her. I was like a little +servant. Blacked the boots, peeled the pertaters, washed the dishes, +cleaned the grates, scrubbed the door-step, polished here, polished +there, helped to dish up, and they give me two shillin's a week. I was +like a little servant." + +I remind her of her promise to forgo work and to be a little social, +and, after another rub or two, she wrings out the sopping cloth, lets it +drop on the hearthstone, and then, backing once more to the stool, leans +back and smiles at me, with her wet hands folded in her lap. + + * * * * * + +"The fam'ly where my sister lived in the country," she says, taking up +her tale, "was a large family--five or six sons there was--sich nice +fellers they were! But--ain't it strange?--I never see any think on 'em +now though they come reggeler to London Bridge every day of their lives, +they do. They was Roman Cawtholic--boys and girls alike; but, for all +that, they was good-livin' people, and they was religious in their own +way. And one day a week comes the priest, and that day me and my sister +wasn't allowed to enter the dinin'-room all the mornin', where the +breakfast things was and where the priest was what he useter call +confessin' the young ladies of their sins and givin' 'em what he called +absolution, summat like that, for all they'd been doin' wrong since last +time. Oh my! You never knew such goings on, not in England, you didn't. +But mind, they was good-livin' people. They was Cawtholics, and they +give me two shillin's a week; and I was like a little servant. Kind, +good, religious people they was; and the beetles and the crickets in the +house was somethink beastly. Oh, I do hate they nasty stinkin' things; +_hate_ 'em I do! And they had a garden, a beautiful garden, and it was +full of flowers it was, but I don't remember the names of them, excep' +that I know it was full of flowers--all the colours you can think +of--and that garden was a god to them poor Cawtholics, it really was. +The boys worked in it before they went to the City, and the young ladies +messed about with it all day; and then they all went chipping and +choppin' in it of a evenin', and me and my sister wasn't hardly allowed +to look at the flowers, we wasn't, for it was like a god to them." + +Her sister's health began to fail. The housework of the large family +became too much for her, and the brave maid-of-all-work, accompanied by +Emma Jane, was obliged to return to London. They sought the advice of +that dissenting minister whose shirt-fronts, if ever they showed a +blister, had been so frightful a terror to Emma Jane's poor mother. By +the great kindness of this good man--his wisdom is not my concern--- the +invalid maid-of-all-work and the indefatigable dwarf who had been like a +little servant, and who has already confessed to us that she is not much +of a writer herself--were established in Blackfriars as +schoolmistresses! + +"We hired a little room--in Green-street, it was--me and my sister, and +we had a few little scholars--oh, yuss, and a tidy lot of good-sized +boys and girls, besides the little 'uns--and they paid us 6d., 4d., and +2d. a week, or whatever they liked; and we done werry well with that +school, and always taught religion and the catechism; and I might have +been continuin' of it now if that nasty, pokin', competitionin' Board +School hadn't come along, which it finished our little lot--pretty sharp +it did--and left us starvin'." + +The sister, shortly after this terrific crisis in their affairs, was +carried into the hospital, and, after three months of terrible pain, +which she bore like a martyr, went to join in heavenly places the "poor +mother" and the father who had been in some elusive fashion connected +with sublunary drains. + +"And after that," says Miss Stipp, getting up and resting her hands on +the pail of dirty water, and looking down into it as if she saw the +faces of her poor mother, her sister, and all the dead babies of the +other sister shining up at her from the muddy bottom, "I came on the +parish, and I've been on it ever since, and nice kind gentlemen they +are, and I couldn't be treated better." + +"People are kind to you?" I inquire. + +"Very kind to me they are," she answers. "I often get a shillin' given +to me in the street, and the other evenin' a lady in the Boro'--nicely +dressed, she was, in black--asked me if I wouldn't like a New Testament, +and I said, 'Yuss, I would,' and she give me one; and I told her that I +was converted, not when I was born, but when I was confirmed in St. +George's Church; and the bishop gave us a beautiful address he did, and +I felt werry much better when he laid his hands on my head, and after +he give us the blessin'. If my hands wasn't so black, I'd show you the +cards and things. I've kep 'em ever since--yuss. I've still got 'The Vow +Performed,' or whatever it is called. The wicked woman downstairs, she +hasn't taken _that_. Oh, a wicked woman she is, a _very_ wicked woman; +but I'll have the law on her. Ah!" + + * * * * * + +I ask her if--what with the cat and the woman downstairs, and all her +relatives in heaven--she does not sometimes sigh for the next world. + +"I'll be ready when my time comes," she replies confidently, and with +rather a sly grin, "but I'm werry well content to stay where I am till +I'm called, I am. I don't complain of nothink, I don't, excep' this +beastly winder-pane which lets the draught in somethink cruel, it does, +enough it is to blow me out of bed; and that awful devil of a woman +downstairs; and the crossin' at the Elephant and Castle, which tries my +nerves dreadful it does, and oughter be put a stop to, for it ain't safe +for nobody, let alone a cripple. Then there's the children," she cries +fiercely. "Oh, they are dreadful! You never heard sich language. +Foul-mouthed!--oh, it's awful; I never did in all my life hear sich +disgustin' language. And they tease me dreadful, they do, and call after +me, and follow me into shops, and throw muck at me, the dirty little +blasphemin' devils." + +She tells me, in conclusion, of a milliner's shop where she goes for +oddments, and where the young ladies sometimes give her a bit of +trimming for her bonnet. Her last action is to drop the scrubbing-brush +into the pail of water, to reach out an arm, and grab with one of her +claws a piece of dirty black ribbon, sticking like an old book-marker +from under a pile of rubbish beside the hearth, and then to pull at the +string till presently there drops upon the floor a small and battered +black bonnet with another string trailing behind it in the heap of +rubbish. + +"There!" says Miss Stipp, holding up the fusty old bonnet, "with a bit +of black velvet," she continues, studying the flat bonnet with critical +eyes, "and a nob of jet, and a orstrich feather stuck into it somewhere +about there, or there perhaps, it will last me many a long day yet, and +always look nice and fashionable when I go for my walks about London +Bridge of a evenin'." + +She is still holding the bonnet when I stoop down to take my leave. The +beautiful address of the bishop who confirmed her so many years ago in +Little Dorrit's church is not, my life for it, half so urgent and +absorbing a matter for Miss Stipp as the latest fashion. + + +MUSIC +[Sidenote: _Samuel Johnson_] + +"Upon hearing a celebrated performer go through a hard composition, and +hearing it remarked that it was very difficult, Dr. Johnson said, 'I +would it had been impossible.'" + + +NEATNESS IN EXCESS +[Sidenote: _Samuel Johnson_] + +"I asked Mr. Johnson if he ever disputed with his wife. 'Perpetually,' +said he; 'my wife had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and +desired the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many +ladies do, till they become troublesome to their best friends, slaves to +their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands +out of the house as dirt and useless lumber. A clean floor is so +comfortable, she would say sometimes by way of twitting; till at last I +told her that I thought we had had talk enough about the floor, we would +now have a touch at the ceiling.' I asked him if he ever huffed his wife +about his dinner. 'So often,' replied he, 'that at last she called to me +and said, "Nay, hold, Mr. Johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking +God for a dinner which in a few minutes you will protest not eatable."'" + + +A YOUNG LADY'S "NEEDS" +[Sidenote: _Samuel Johnson_] + +"During a visit of Miss Brown's to Streatham, Dr. Johnson was inquiring +of her several things that she could not answer; and, as he held her so +cheap in regard to books, he began to question her concerning domestic +affairs,--puddings, pies, plain work, and so forth. Miss Brown, not at +all more able to give a good account of herself in these articles than +in the others, began all her answers with 'Why, sir, one need not be +obliged to do so,--or so,' whatever was the thing in question. When he +had finished his interrogatories, and she had finished her 'need nots,' +he ended the discourse with saying, 'As to your needs, my dear, they are +so very many that you would be frightened yourself if you knew half of +them.'" + + +"IRENE" +[Sidenote: _Samuel Johnson_] + +"I was told," wrote Sir Walter Scott, "that a gentleman called Pot, or +some such name, was introduced to Johnson as a particular admirer of +his. The doctor growled and took no further notice. "He admires in +especial your _Irene_ as the finest tragedy of modern times;" to which +the Doctor replied: "If Pot says so, Pot Lies!" and relapsed into his +reverie. + + +ODE TO PEACE +[Sidenote: _Hood_] + +WRITTEN ON THE NIGHT OF MY MISTRESS'S GRAND ROUT + + O Peace! oh come with me and dwell-- + But stop, for there's the bell. + O peace! for thee I go and sit in churches, + On Wednesday, when there's very few + In loft or pew-- + Another ring, the tarts are come from Birch's. + O Peace! for thee I have avoided marriage-- + Hush! there's a carriage. + O Peace! thou art the best of earthly goods-- + The five Miss Woods. + O Peace! thou art the goddess I adore-- + There come some more. + O Peace! thou child of solitude and quiet-- + That's Lord Drum's footman, for he loves a riot. + + O Peace!-- + Knocks will not cease. + O Peace! thou wert for human comfort planned-- + That's Weippert's band. + O Peace! how glad I welcome thy approaches-- + I hear the sound of coaches. + O Peace! O Peace!--another carriage stops-- + It's early for the Blenkinsops. + + O Peace! with thee I love to wander, + But wait till I have showed up Lady Squander; + And now I've seen her up the stair, + O Peace!--but here comes Captain Hare. + O Peace! thou art the slumber of the mind, + Untroubled, calm, and quiet, and unbroken-- + If that is Alderman Guzzle from Portsoken, + Alderman Gobble won't be far behind. + O Peace! serene in worldly shyness-- + Make way there for his Serene Highness! + + O Peace! if you do not disdain + To dwell amongst the menial train, + I have a silent place, and lone, + That you and I may call our own, + Where tumult never makes an entry-- + Susan, what business have you in my pantry? + + O Peace!--but there is Major Monk, + At variance with his wife. O Peace!-- + And that great German, Van der Trunk, + And that great talker, Miss Apreece. + O Peace! so dear to poets' quills-- + They're just beginning their quadrilles. + O Peace! our greatest renovator-- + I wonder where I put my waiter. + O Peace!--but here my ode I'll cease! + I have no peace to write of Peace. + + +LETTERS FROM THACKERAY +[Sidenote: _Thackeray_] + +_Tuesday, November 1848_. + +GOOD-NIGHT, MY DEAR MADAM, + +Since I came home from dining with Mr. Morier, I have been writing a +letter to Mr. T. Carlyle and thinking about other things as well as the +letter all the time; and I have read over a letter I received to-day +which apologizes for everything and whereof the tremulous author +ceaselessly doubts and misgives. Who knows whether she is not converted +by Joseph Bullar by this time. She is a sister of mine, and her name is +God bless her. + +_Wednesday_.--I was at work until seven o'clock; not to very much +purpose, but executing with great labour and hardship the day's work. +Then I went to dine with Dr. Hall, the crack doctor here, a literate +man, a traveller, and otherwise a kind bigwig. After dinner we went to +hear Mr. Sortain lecture, of whom you may perhaps have heard me speak, +as a great, remarkable orator and preacher of the Lady Huntingdon +Connexion. (The paper is so greasy that I am forced to try several pens +and manners of handwriting, but none will do.) We had a fine lecture, +with brilliant Irish metaphors and outbursts of rhetoric, addressed to +an assembly of mechanics, shopboys, and young women, who could not, and +perhaps had best not, understand that flashy speaker. It was about the +origin of nations he spoke, one of those big themes on which a man may +talk eternally and with a never-ending outpouring of words; and he +talked magnificently, about the Arabs for the most part, and tried to +prove that because the Arabs acknowledged their descent from Ishmael, or +Esau, therefore the Old Testament history was true. But the Arabs may +have had Esau for a father and yet the bears may not have eaten up the +little children for quizzing Elisha's bald head. As I was writing to +Carlyle last night (I haven't sent the letter as usual, and shall not +most likely), Saint Stephen was pelted to death by Old Testaments, and +our Lord was killed like a felon by the law, which He came to repeal. I +was thinking about Joseph Bullar's doctrine after I went to bed, founded +on what I cannot but think a blasphemous asceticism, which has obtained +in the world ever so long, and which is disposed to curse, hate, and +undervalue the world altogether. Why should we? What we see here of this +world is but an expression of God's will, so to speak--a beautiful earth +and sky and sea--beautiful affections and sorrows, wonderful changes and +developments of creations, suns rising, stars shining, birds singing, +clouds and shadows changing and fading, people loving each other, +smiling and crying, the multiplied phenomena of Nature, multiplied in +fact and fancy, in Art and Science, in every way that a man's intellect +or education or imagination can be brought to bear.--And who is to say +that we are to ignore all this, or not value them and love them, +because there is another unknown world yet to come? Why, that unknown +future world is but a manifestation of God Almighty's Will, and a +development of Nature, neither more nor less than this in which we are, +and an angel glorified or a sparrow on a gutter are equally parts of His +creation. The light upon all the saints in heaven is just as much and no +more God's work, as the sun which shall shine to-morrow upon this +infinitesimal speck of creation, and under which I shall read, please +God, a letter from my kindest Lady and friend. About my future state I +don't know; I leave it in the disposal of the awful Father--but for +to-day I thank God that I can love you, and that you yonder and others +besides are thinking of me with a tender regard. Hallelujah may be +greater in degree than this, but not in kind, and countless ages of +stars may be blazing infinitely, but you and I have a right to rejoice +and believe in our little part and to trust in to-day as in to-morrow. +God bless my dear lady and her husband. I hope you are asleep now, and I +must go too, for the candles are just winking out. + +_Thursday_.--I am glad to see among the new inspectors, in the Gazette +in this morning's papers, my old acquaintance Longueville Jones, an +excellent, worthy, lively, accomplished fellow, whom I like the better +because he flung up his fellow and tutorship at Cambridge in order to +marry on nothing a year. He worked in Galignani's newspaper for ten +francs a day, very cheerfully, ten years ago, since when he has been a +schoolmaster, taken pupils, or bid for them, and battled manfully with +fortune. William will be sure to like him, I think, he is so honest and +cheerful. I have sent off my letters to Lady Ashburton this morning, +ending with some pretty phrases about poor old C.B., whose fate affects +me very much, so much that I feel as if I were making my will and +getting ready to march too. Well, ma'am, I have as good a right to +presentiments as you have, and to sickly fancies and despondencies; but +I should like to see before I die, and think of it daily more and more, +the commencement of Jesus Christ's Christianism in the world, where I am +sure people may be made a hundred times happier than by its present +forms, Judaism, asceticism, Bullarism. I wonder will He come again and +tell it us? We are taught to be ashamed of our best feelings all our +life. I don't want to blubber upon everybody's shoulders; but to have a +good will for all, and a strong, very strong regard for a few, which I +shall not be ashamed to own to them.... It is near upon three o'clock, +and I am getting rather anxious about the post from Southampton via +London. Why, if it doesn't come in, you won't get any letter to-morrow, +no, nothing--and I made so sure. Well, I will try and go to work, it is +only one more little drop. God bless you, dear lady. + +_Friday_.--I have had a good morning's work, and at two o'clock comes +your letter; dear friend, thank you. What a coward I was! I will go and +walk and be happy for an hour, it is a grand frosty sunshine. To-morrow +morning early back to London. + + * * * * * + +Madam's letter made a very agreeable appearance upon the breakfast-table +this morning when I entered that apartment at eleven o'clock. I don't +know how I managed to sleep so much, but such was the fact--after a fine +broiling hot day's utter idleness, part of which was spent on a sofa, a +little in the Tuillery gardens, where I made a sketch that's not a +masterpiece, but p'raps Madam will like to see it: and the evening very +merrily with the _Morning Chronicle_, the _Journal des Debats_, and +Jules Janin at a jolly little restaurateur's at the Champs Elysees at +the sign of the Petit Moulin Rouge. We had a private room and drank +small wine very gaily, looking out into a garden full of green arbours, +in almost every one of which were gentlemen and ladies in couples come +to dine _au frais_, and afterwards to go and dance at the neighbouring +dancing garden of Mabille. Fiddlers and singers came and performed for +us: and who knows I should have gone to Mabille too, but there came down +a tremendous thunderstorm, with flashes of lightning to illuminate it, +which sent the little couples out of the arbours, and put out all the +lights of Mabille. The day before I passed with my aunt and cousins, who +are not so pretty as some members of the family, but are dear good +people, with a fine sense of fun, and we were very happy until the +arrival of two newly married snobs, whose happiness disgusted me and +drove me home early to find three acquaintances smoking in the moonlight +at the hotel door, who came up and passed the night in my rooms. No, I +forgot, I went to the play first; but only for an hour--I couldn't stand +more than an hour of the farce, which made me laugh while it lasted, but +left a profound black melancholy behind it. Janin said last night that +life was the greatest of pleasures to him; that every morning, when he +woke, he was thankful to be alive; that he was always entirely happy, +and had never known any such thing as blue devils, or repentance, or +satiety. I had great fun giving him authentic accounts of London. I told +him that to see the people boxing in the streets was a constant source +of amusement to us; that in November you saw every lamp-post on London +Bridge with a man hanging from it who had committed suicide--and he +believed everything. Did you ever read any of the works of Janin?--No? +well, he has been for twenty years famous in France, and he on his side +has never heard of the works of Titmarsh, nor has anybody else here, and +that's a comfort. I have got very nice rooms, but they cost ten francs a +day: and I began in a dignified manner with a _domestique de place_, but +sent him away after two days: for the idea that he was in the anteroom +ceaselessly with nothing to do made my life in my own room intolerable, +and now I actually take my own letters to the post. I went to the +exhibition: it was full of portraits of the most hideous women, with +inconceivable spots on their faces, of which I think I've told you my +horror, and scarcely six decent pictures in the whole enormous +collection; but I had never been in the Tuilleries before, and it was +curious to go through the vast dingy rooms by which such a number of +dynasties have come in and gone out--Louis XVI., Napoleon, Charles X., +Louis Philippe, have all marched in state up the staircase with the gilt +balustrades, and come tumbling down again presently.--Well, I won't give +you an historical disquisition in the Titmarsh manner upon this, but +reserve it for _Punch_--for whom on Thursday an article that I think is +quite unexampled for dullness even in that journal, and that beats the +dullest Jerrold. What a jaunty, off-hand, satiric rogue I am to be +sure--and a gay young dog! I took a very great liking and admiration for +Clough. He is a real poet, and a simple, affectionate creature. Last +year we went to Blenheim--from Oxford (it was after a stay at +Cl----ved----n C----rt, the seat of Sir C---- E----n B----t), and I +liked him for sitting down in the inn yard and beginning to teach a +child to read off a bit of _Punch_, which was lying on the ground. +Subsequently he sent me his poems, which were rough but contain the +real, genuine, sacred flame I think. He is very learned: he has +evidently been crossed in love: he gave up his fellowship and +university prospects on religious scruples. He is one of those thinking +men who, I dare say, will begin to speak out before many years are over, +and protest against Gothic Christianity--that is, I think he is. Did you +read in F. Newman's book? There speaks a very pious, loving, humble soul +I think, with an ascetical continence too--and a beautiful love and +reverence. I'm a publican and sinner, but I believe those men are on the +true track. + + * * * * * + +And is W. Bullar going to work upon you with his "simple mysticism"? I +don't know about the unseen world; the use of the seen world is the +right thing I'm sure!--it is just as much God's world and creation as +the Kingdom of Heaven with all the angels. How will you make yourself +most happy in it? How secure at least the greatest amount of happiness +compatible with your condition? by despising to-day, and looking up +cloudward? Pish. Let us turn God's to-day to its best use, as well as +any other part of the time He gives us. When I am on a cloud a-singing, +or a pot boiling--I will do my best, and, if you are ill, you can have +consolations; if you have disappointments, you can invent fresh sources +of hope and pleasure. I'm glad you saw the Crowes, and that they gave +you pleasure;--and that noble poetry of Alfred's gives you pleasure (I'm +happy to say, ma'am, I've said the very same thing in prose that you +like--the very same words almost). The bounties of the Father I believe +to be countless and inexhaustible for most of us here in life; Love the +greatest. Art (which is an exquisite and admiring sense of nature) the +next.--- By Jove! I'll admire, if I can, the wing of a cock-sparrow as +much as the pinion of an archangel; and adore God, the Father of the +earth, first; waiting for the completion of my senses, and the +fulfilment of His intentions towards me afterwards, when this scene +closes over us. So, when Bullar turns up his eye to the ceiling, I'll +look straight at your dear, kind face and thank God for knowing that, my +dear; and, though my nose is a broken pitcher, yet, Lo and behold, +there's a well gushing over with kindness in my heart where my dear lady +may come and drink. God bless you,--and William and little Magdalene. + + +ODOURS AND MOUSTACHES +[Sidenote: _Montaigne_] + +The simplest and merely natural smells are most pleasing unto me; which +care ought chiefly to concerne women. In the verie heart of Barbarie, +the Scithian women, after they have washed themselves, did sprinkle, +dawbe, and powder all their bodies and faces over with a certain +odoriferous drug that groweth in their countrie: which dust and dawbing +being taken away, when they come neere men, or their husbands, they +remaine verie cleane, and with a verie sweet savouring perfume. What +odour soever it be, it is strange to see what hold it will take on me, +and how apt my skin is to receive it. He that complaineth against +nature, that she hath not created man with a fit instrument, to carrie +sweet smells fast-tied to his nose, is much to blame; for they carrie +themselves. As for me in particular, my mostachoes, which are verie +thick, serve me for that purpose. Let me but approach my gloves or my +hand kercher to them, their smell will sticke upon them a whole day. +They manifest the place I come from. The close-smacking, +sweetnesse-moving, love-alluring, and greedi-smirking kisses of youth, +were heretofore wont to sticke on them many houres after; yet I am +little subject to those popular diseases that are taken by conversation +and bred by the contagion of the ayre: And I have escaped those of my +time of which there hath beene many and severall kinds, both in the +Townes, about me, and in our Armie: We read of Socrates that during the +time of many plagues and relapses of the pestilence, which so often +infested the Citie of Athens, he never forsooke or went out of the +Towne: yet was he the only man that was never infected, or that felt any +sickness. + + +FROM THE BALLAD A-LA-MODE +[Sidenote: _Austin Dobson_] + + "Ah, Phillis! cruel Phillis! + (I heard a shepherd say) + You hold me with your eyes, and yet + You bid me--Go my way!" + + "Ah, Colin! foolish Colin! + (The maiden answered so) + If that be all, the ill is small, + I close them--You may go!" + + But when her eyes she opened + (Although the sun it shone), + She found the shepherd had not stirred-- + "Because the light was gone!" + + Ah, Cupid! wanton Cupid! + 'Twas ever thus your way: + When maids would bid you ply your wings, + You find excuse to stay! + + +DREAMTHORP +[Sidenote: _Alexander Smith_] + +I do not think that Mr. Buckle could have written his "History of +Civilisation" in Dreamthorp, because in it books, conversation, and the +other appurtenances of intellectual life are not to be procured. I am +acquainted with birds, and the building of nests--with wildflowers, and +the seasons in which they blow,--but with the big world far away, with +what men and women are thinking, and doing, and saying, I am acquainted +only through the _Times_, and the occasional magazine or review, sent by +friends whom I have not looked upon for years, but by whom, it seems, I +am not yet forgotten. The village has but few intellectual wants, and +the intellectual supply is strictly measured by the demand. Still, there +is something. Down in the village, and opposite the curiously carved +fountain, is a schoolroom which can accommodate a couple of hundred +people on a pinch. There are our public meetings held. Musical +entertainments have been given there by a single performer. In that +schoolroom last winter an American biologist terrified the villagers, +and, to their simple understandings, mingled up the next world with +this. Now and again some rare bird of an itinerant lecturer covers dead +walls with posters, yellow and blue, and to that schoolroom we flock to +hear him. His rounded periods the eloquent gentleman devolves amidst a +respectful silence. His audience do not understand him, but they see +that the clergyman does, and the doctor does; and so they are content, +and look as attentive and wise as possible. Then, in connection with the +schoolroom, there is a public library, where books are exchanged once a +month. This library is a kind of Greenwich Hospital for disabled novels +and romances. Each of these books has been in the wars; some are +unquestionably antiques. The tears of three generations have fallen upon +their dusky pages. The heroes and the heroines are of another age than +ours. Sir Charles Grandison is standing with his hat under his arm. Tom +Jones plops from the tree into the water, to the infinite distress of +Sophia. Moses comes home from market with his stock of shagreen +spectacles. Lovers, warriors, and villains,--as dead to the present +generation of readers as Cambyses,--are weeping, fighting, and +intriguing. These books, tattered and torn as they are, are read with +delight to-day. The viands are celestial, if set forth on a dingy +table-cloth. The gaps and chasms which occur in pathetic or perilous +chapters are felt to be personal calamities. It is with a certain +feeling of tenderness that I look upon these books; I think of the dead +fingers that have turned over the leaves, of the dead eyes that have +travelled along the lines. An old novel has a history of its own. When +fresh and new, and before it had breathed its secret, it lay on my +lady's table. She killed the weary day with it, and when night came it +was placed beneath her pillow. At the sea-side a couple of foolish +heads have bent over it, hands have touched and tingled, and it has +heard vows and protestations as passionate as any its pages contained. +Coming down in the world, Cinderella in the kitchen has blubbered over +it by the light of a surreptitious candle, conceiving herself the while +the magnificent Georgiana, and Lord Mordaunt, Georgiana's lover, the +pot-boy round the corner. Tied up with many a dingy brother, the +auctioneer knocks the bundle down to the bidder of a few pence, and it +finds its way to the quiet cove of some village library, where with some +difficulty--as if from want of teeth--and with numerous +interruptions--as if from lack of memory--it tells its old stories, and +wakes tears, and blushes, and laughter as of yore. Thus it spends its +age, and in a few years it will become unintelligible, and then, in the +dust-bin, like poor human mortals in the grave, it will rest from all +its labours. It is impossible to estimate the benefit which such books +have conferred. How often have they loosed the chain of circumstances! +What unfamiliar tears--what unfamiliar laughter they have caused! What +chivalry and tenderness they have infused into rustic lovers! Of what +weary hours they have cheated and beguiled their readers! The big, +solemn history-books are in excellent preservation; the story-books are +defaced and frayed, and their out-of-elbows condition is their pride, +and the best justification of their existence. + +In this pleasant summer weather I hold my audience in my garden rather +than in my house. In all my interviews the sun is a third party. Every +village has its Fool, and of course Dreamthorp is not without one. Him I +get to run my messages for me, and he occasionally turns my garden +borders with a neat hand enough. He and I hold frequent converse, and +people here, I have been told, think we have certain points of sympathy. +Although this is not meant for a compliment, I take it for one. The +poor, faithful creature's brain has strange visitors: now 'tis fun, now +wisdom, and now something which seems in the queerest way a compound of +both. He lives in a kind of twilight which observes objects, and his +remarks seem to come from another world than that in which ordinary +people live. He is the only original person of my acquaintance; his +views of life are his own, and form a singular commentary on those +generally accepted. He is dull enough at times, poor fellow; but anon he +startles you with something, and you think he must have wandered out of +Shakespeare's plays into this out-of-the-way place. Up from the village +now and then comes to visit me the tall, gaunt, atrabilious +confectioner, who has a hankering after Red-republicanism, and the +destruction of Queen, Lords, and Commons. Guy Fawkes is, I believe, the +only martyr in his calendar. The sourest-tempered man, I think, that +ever engaged in the manufacture of sweetmeats. I wonder that the oddity +of the thing never strikes himself. To be at all consistent, he should +put poison in his lozenges, and become the Herod of the village +innocents. One of his many eccentricities is a love for flowers, and he +visits me often to have a look at my greenhouse and my borders. I listen +to his truculent and revolutionary speeches, and take my revenge by +sending the gloomy egotist away with a nosegay in his hand, and a +gay-coloured flower stuck in a button-hole. He goes quite unconscious of +my floral satire. + +The village clergyman and the village doctor are great friends of mine; +they come to visit me often, and smoke a pipe with me in my garden. The +twain love and respect each other, but they regard the world from +different points of view, and I am now and again made witness of a +good-humoured passage of arms. The clergyman is old, unmarried, and a +humorist. His sallies and his gentle eccentricities seldom provoke +laughter, but they are continually awakening the pleasantest smiles. +Perhaps what he has seen of the world, its sins, its sorrows, its +death-beds, its widows and orphans, has tamed his spirit, and put a +tenderness into his wit. I do not think I have ever encountered a man +who so adorns his sacred profession. His pious, devout nature produces +sermons just as naturally as my apple-trees produce apples. He is a tree +that flowers every Sunday. Very beautiful is his reverence for the Book, +his trust in it; through long acquaintance, its ideas have come to +colour his entire thought, and you come upon its phrases in his +ordinary speech. He is more himself in the pulpit than anywhere else, +and you get nearer him in his sermons than you do sitting with him at +his tea-table, or walking with him on the country roads. He does not +feel confined in his orthodoxy; in it he is free as a bird in the air. +The doctor is, I conceive, as good a Christian as the clergyman, but he +is impatient of pale or limit; he never comes to a fence without feeling +a desire to get over it. He is a great hunter of insects, and he thinks +that the wings of his butterflies might yield very excellent texts; he +is fond of geology, and cannot, especially when he is in the company of +the clergyman, resist the temptation of hurling a fossil at Moses. He +wears his scepticism as a coquette wears her ribbons--to annoy if he +cannot subdue--and, when his purpose is served, he puts his scepticism +aside--as the coquette puts her ribbons. Great arguments arise between +them, and the doctor loses his field through his loss of temper, which, +however, he regains before any harm is done. For the worthy man is +irascible withal, and opposition draws fire from him. + + +TWO OLD GENTLEMEN +[Sidenote: _H.B._] + +Old Joe, who has been a pirate, a buffalo-hunter, a soldier, a +pastrycook, and a seller of bootlaces, collar-studs, and tie-clips in +the London gutters, sits paralysed in his grandfather chair, which has a +thin pad strung to the back and a flattened cushion on the seat, and +declares, vainly trying to keep his tongue inside his mouth, and with +his whole body shaken by paralysis, that he is happy and jolly. + +"Happy and jolly," roars Joe, struggling with his frightful stammer. "It +'tain't no good bein' nuffin kelse. Why, I've been dead and pretty near +buried. In Charing-crost 'orspital; yerse! I heard 'em say, 'He's a +gonner,' and I couldn't give 'em the lie. I come to, wrapped up like a +mummy, and hollered so as they pretty near 'opped out of their skins! +Ho, I've had a terrible life! Run over by a horse and van. Knocked all +to pieces. Been to the bottom of the sea! Many a time. But here I am, +happy and jolly. What's the odds?" He goes off into such a fit of +laughter that the chair is shaken and he himself nearly suffocated by a +cough like an earthquake. + +He looks extremely like one of those lay figures employed by +ventriloquists. He is a thin, flat, pasteboard-looking old fellow; his +trousers hang over the edge of his chair apparently empty of legs, and +his shirt and open waistcoat (he never wears a coat) are pressed flat +against the high back of the chair, apparently empty of trunk. His body +and his features are for ever on the jerk. His shoulders twitch. He is +for ever laughing and gurgling. He is for ever struggling to say +something important, ending in a great spluttering stammer and a roar of +tremendous laughter. + +For all he is eighty-two years of age, his hair is yet thick, and the +blackness of it is of too stubborn an order ever to go more than +iron-grey. He has glassy eyes, puffed and bagged with flesh; heavy black +eyebrows half-way up his sloping forehead; a heavy black moustache under +his strong nose; a tongue several sizes too large for his mouth; and +under the mouth a chin which recedes so sharply that it becomes neck +before you are really aware that it is chin. He reminds us a little, as +he sits there laughing and chuckling, of early caricatures of Sir +Redvers Buller. + +Opposite Old Joe sits Mr. Wells, a little old white-haired gentleman, +very spruce and tidy, with neatly clipped moustache and neatly pointed +beard, and peering little cloudy eyes which are sightless. + + * * * * * + +The two old gentlemen, as they are called, live together in a tiny +two-roomed house in a narrow flagged court which is generally strung +with washing. The low-roofed kitchen is their sitting-room, and its +smoky-panelled walls are decorated only with church almanacs and a few +faded photographs. + +The room is beautifully clean, and so is the bedroom above, where the +two pensioners sleep in neat little beds. Out of the money allowed them +by a neighbouring church--some nine shillings a week between the +two--they pay a woman five shillings a week "to do for them." As for +themselves, they smoke their pipes in front of the fire, and laugh to +find themselves, after much rough work on the high seas, so happy and +jolly at the end of their days. + +"It wasn't always as clean as this, you must understand," says Mr. Wells +confidentially, his sightless eyes blinking with amusement. "When we +first come here the place was simply swarming; swarming it was--you +know, _gentlemen in the overcoats_ we call 'em down here. And the +amusing thing was--there, I did laugh!--Joe could see 'em but couldn't +catch 'em, and I, who might have caught 'em, couldn't see 'em." He leans +over to Joe and shouts, "I was telling the genneman about the bugs when +we first came here!" And Joe lifts his eyebrows, rubs his shoulder +against his chair, and laughs, and says with his pipe in his mouth, +"Ess, sir!" making a pantomimic gesture supposed to represent the +slaughter of vermin. + +Little Mr. Wells has a great and fundamental pride in the fact that he +is "eight year younger nor what Joe is." He tells you this interesting +fact more than once, speaking in his wonted low tone of voice, reaching +out with his pipe between his fingers to touch you lightly with his +elbow, and always concluding with the appeal, "You wouldn't think so, +would you?" And then, as the pipe goes back to his mouth, "Well, it is +so," he says, and nods his head at the fire. And Old Joe, who doesn't +care a brass farden, or a bone button for that matter, whether he is +eighty-two or one hundred and eighty-two, has his point of pride in the +certain conviction that if only he had the use of his legs he would be +as strong now as ever he was. + + * * * * * + +Now, old Joe, for all he is paralysed, has the use of his eyes, whereas +Mr. Wells, who can and does shuffle about pretty freely on his feet, has +not got the use of his. + +Joe's sight is a great blessing to him; he can read. He has a sturdy +taste in literature, and will stand none of your milk-and-water stuff. +He likes fighting, plenty of that: and Red Indians, and duels, and +murders, and shipwrecks, and fires, and sudden deaths. He requires of +his author that he keep his mind steeped perpetually in blood and +thunder. You will always find that Old Joe is sitting on a penny +novelette, open at the place, and but little crumpled or creased from +the impress of his skeleton of a body. He is a great reader, one of the +greatest readers in London; and, perhaps, to no man in all the world +more than to Joe has literature brought so complete an escape from the +pressing demands of self-consciousness and the inconvenient emphasis of +personality. + +It is at this point that we reach, by the reader's leave, the +psychological interest of this our simple story. For the problem +presents itself to Mr. Wells, as well as to me, whether all this violent +reading has not created in Joe's mind the impression of a Joe who never +was on sea or land. In other words: in the tale which Joe tells of his +own life, is any part of it fact, or is it not all a figment of his +brain, the creation of his bloody-minded authors? Joe himself believes +every word of it; Joe believes he was the Joe he tells you about, and +his face grows purple, and his glassy eyes dart fire out of their baggy +flesh, if you insinuate never so delicately that one of his stories is +in the very smallest detail just a little difficult of belief. + +Mr. Wells never contradicts Joe; but every now and then (forgetting that +Joe can see) he shakes a sceptic head, and, leaning towards you, +whispers (forgetting that Joe can only hear when you shout at him) that +you must be pleased to remember that "_that's_ what he thinks he done; +and no doubt he _thinks_ that it was so; and it may be it was, and I +should never think of contradicting, not no man; but I has my own +opinion in the matter. _I don't_ think it was so. I think he's half +dreaming and half telling a tale. That's what _I_ think." + +"But," you inquire, "is it not true that Joe was once a pirate?" + +"Oh, yes," he cries at once, smiling proudly; "Oh, yes. Joe was a +pirate right enough. What, haven't you heard him tell how they boarded a +Spanish ship, and cut the throats and broke the heads of the swarthy +crew? Oh, you ought to hear him tell that. It's as good as a play." And +here he leans forward, and calls across to chuckling and gurgling Joe. +"Joe! Tell the genneman how you boarded that Spanish ship, and cut the +throats of them there swarthy Spaniards." + + * * * * * + +At this Old Joe seems to be smitten with a sudden frenzy. I have never +seen anything like it. After a preliminary canter in the laughing line +he suddenly makes taut his body; his eyes bulge from his head; his face +becomes crimson and his nose blue; then, with his mouth open, while he +hisses like a steam-saw and roars like a bull and sends the most +extraordinary imitation of throat-cutting spluttering wetly from his +distended lips, he waves his right arm madly and frantically in the air, +makes imaginary stabs in front of him, draws imaginary knives across his +throat, and brings down the butt ends of imaginary carbines on the +supposititious heads of the swarthy crew unkindly resurrected to be +slain again. + +It is plain that the poor old paralysed fellow is lost to the Present. +He is back in the Past--or in one of his novelettes; and in front of +him, begging for mercy, as he slits their throats, or cracks open their +skulls, are, indeed, hundreds of real and living men. His acting is +superb. It is only made comical by the hanging legs, the fixture of the +body to the seat of the chair, and the furious spluttering of his +frenzied mouth. + +When he has quite finished, thoroughly exhausted, he leans back in his +chair, sticks his pipe into his face, strikes a match with his shaking +hands, and covers his laughing face in a wreath of tobacco-smoke. + +"Arst him," whispers Mr. Wells, "how many he killed? Go on; you arst +him." + + * * * * * + +So you lean across to Old Joe, who shoots forward to meet your lips +half-way with his left ear, and you calmly, and without dread or horror, +ask the gurgling and chuckling veteran how many men he has killed. + +As soon as he has caught your question he bursts out laughing, flings +himself suddenly back, and exclaims, with a splutter: "How many ha' I +killed? How many? I couldn't say. Too many on 'em. Hundreds! Hundreds! +Hundreds of 'em!" Back goes the pipe, and, wreathed in proud smiles, his +shoulders twitching, his hands never still for a moment, he sits square +back in his chair and looks at you proudly, as much as to say: + +"Ain't I a devil of a feller? Ain't I a monster? Ho, I've had a terrible +life. You just arst me another!" + +Well, I know not how true is the story told by Old Joe of his own +wickedness. + +But, however this may be--and it is not the province of Old Joe's +humble historian to speculate--let us be content with the picture of +these two old pensioners from the high seas, living together in the +evening of their days in a narrow court in a London slum, the one +paralysed and the other blind; the one a most brilliant and imaginative +story-teller, the other a most cautious, modest, tentative, and genial +critic. And let us sit between their two chairs for a moment and listen +to the moving story of Old Joe, believing it with all the simplicity, if +not with all the stupefied, admiration of the little slum children who +gaze at the pirate when his chair is moved out into the court that he +may warm his old bones in the sun. + +[In brackets, let me say that I have come upon Old Joe literally posing +in the court as a most ferocious pirate before an audience of toddling +infants not more than four years of age.] + +Eighty-two years ago Old Joe, surnamed Ridley, was born in the +neighbourhood of the Barbican. He remembers how murderers and highwaymen +used to come and hide in the court where he was born, "because, don't +you see, the police daren't come where we was living." He went to a +school in Charterhouse-square. "Charterhouse School," he says. But Mr. +Wells nudges us with his pipe hand. "That's a mistake," he says. "There +wasn't never no _school_ in Charterhouse Square, in those days. But +never mind; let him go on. Only you must make allowance, you know." + +His father was a carman who could drink porter by the two-gallon, and +had an arm like a leg of mutton. But this great, lusty carman found +himself ruled with a rod of iron by the little spitfire he took for his +second wife. She managed the carman, and she managed his brats of +children. She particularly managed Joe because he particularly disliked +being managed. + + * * * * * + +So it came about that Joe found the streets pleasanter than his home, +and took to slouching about with his hands in his pockets, feeling +hungry and sometimes a little concerned, perhaps, as to what was to +become of him. One day, as he was wasting time at a street-corner in +Aldersgate, there came up to him a broad-shouldered, sandy-haired man in +a blue reefer suit, who showed all his teeth when he smiled and whose +voice had a sharp rattle in it like a bag full of gold coins. This +noticeable man hailed Joe as a fine fellow, and asked the fine fellow +whether he wouldn't step with him into a convenient tavern and wet his +whistle with a glass of the best brandy. + +The broad-shouldered, easy-smiling gentleman in the reefer suit told +Joe, over a glass of brandy in the sanded-floor parlour of a neat +tavern, that he was a rich man, with a hobby on which he spent a great +deal of money. "It's a hobby of mine," he said, laughing, "to put down +the slave-trade. I don't like it, and so I put it down. Now, a fine +young likely fellow, such as you, is just the man I want for my ship. +How would you like to go sailing the lovely seas catching +slave-dealers, and giving them what-for with the best steel and +gunpowder that money can buy?" + +Joe said he could put up with it if the money was all right. And, being +assured that the money was more than all right, he agreed to go down to +Plymouth with a party of the gentleman's friends and try his hand for a +year or two at laying pirates by the heel. + +But when our Joe got out to sea and awoke from a terrible bout of +intoxication on the schooner sailed by the gentleman with a hobby, he +discovered that, instead of being on the ocean to catch pirates, he was +there as a pirate himself. The boy had run away from home to make a +fortune catching wicked men; he now found that his bread and butter +depended upon his ability in cracking the heads of perfectly honest men. +Some of the new hands wanted to be put back when the situation was +explained to them, but Joe was among those who felt respect for the +villainous seamen on board (the ship carried 130 men, he says,) who +declared that they had as lief be pirates as catch pirates, and it was +no odds to them what flag they sailed under or for what purpose. + +"On board," splutters Joe, striking another match, "there was a turr'ble +fellow--Jack Armstrong--six foot five in socks, strong's a lion, brave's +a tiger. He and me use to fight--every day, pretty near. Bang! crack! +g-r-r-r-r-r! I used to beat him--easy! I was turr'bly strong. Make's +nose bleed--bung's eyes up--split's lips. Ess! And there was a mulatto +aboard. Metsi-metsi-metsi-can, he was." + +"He means Mexican," whispers Mr. Wells behind his hand. "That's what Joe +means. A Mexican." And then he gets up from his chair and shouts into +Joe's ear, "You mean a Mex-i-can, Joe." + +"Ess; a Metsican," splutters Joe, getting purple in the face under the +impression of a contradiction. "That's what I said--Metsican. Used to +call him Black Peter. I've seen him eat rattlesnake. Swallow him clean +down. Like this, he would--_Gollop!_" Here Mr. Wells goes off into a +quiet chuckle of scepticism, one finger crooked over his pipe-stem, his +sightless eyes blinking at the coals. "Great big bull of a feller. +'Normous chest. Legs o' granite. Used ter fight wi' bar o' iron. Ho! Ho! +Weighed half a hunded. Tremenjus weapon! If he hit you, you +know--_dash_!--out go your brains. Ho! ho! He was fond o' me. If I saw +him sulky, or anythin', up I'd go, an' 'What's matter?' I'd say. Peter'd +say, 'So-a-so.' 'Oh blow,' I'd say, and walk off. He looked up to me. +R'spected me. Peter was always behind me in action. Always. Never let me +be killed. Never! _Bang! Crack!_ Brain any man who come near me. Fond o' +me." + +Joe, we gather, was fourteen years at sea without ever coming home. He +was a pirate in the China seas for years. He was in the Baltic during +the Crimea. He has been to the bottom of the sea two or three times. He +has fought hand-to-hand with many a shark. He has been shipwrecked a +score of times. The experience of St. Paul in a good cause hardly +exceeds for suffering the experience of Old Joe in a bad one. For six +days and seven nights he and seven others were tossed about the sea +without food in a row-boat. Two of the men died, and were eaten by the +rest, with the exception of Joe, who could not stomach cannibalism for +all he was such a terrible fellow. Then they were picked up by the +famous _Alabama_, and Joe fought in the great American War of North +_versus_ South. + +"I was put in prison," he says, with a roar of laughter. "Two years. In +Allybammer. Two years in dungeon. In the Harbour there. Allybammer +Harbour." + +"Alabama, he means," whispers Mr. Wells. "You've heard of Alabama, I +dare say? Somewhere in Ameriky, isn't it? Ah! Well, that's what Joe +means--Alabama." + +"Two years!" laughed Joe; and then, with a great roar of delight, he +adds, "Went off my nut! In dungeon. Clean off my nut!" + +"What Joe means," whispers Mr. Wells, slowly and dogmatically, "is that, +while he was in prison in Alabama Harbour, he lost his reason: 'Off his +nut' is slang for losing his reason. Now, I dare say that that is true. +I shouldn't be surprised if it was." + +"Then I went Canada," bellows Joe, striking a fresh match. "Buff'lo +hunter! Ho! Ho! Fought the Injuns. Red Injuns. Killed hundreds. _Slish! +C-r-r-r-r! Bang! Dash! Gurrrr!_ Hundreds. Red Injuns! I killed hundreds +myself. Ho! Ho! I dashed their brains out. Ho! Ho! Injuns. Red Injuns!" + +It is some time before he grows really calm after illustrating with +tremendous energy his ferocity against the poor Red Indians. Even Mr. +Wells grows enthusiastic, and, sucking his pipe-stem, chuckles proudly +over Joe's enormous valour. + +But what a fall it is when Joe resumes his life. From being a pirate, a +fighter, and a buffalo-hunter, he becomes--think of it!--a pastrycook. +He leaves the magnificent society of Jack Armstrong, and Black Peter, +and Red Indians, to mix with the commonplace citizens of London--as a +pastrycook! He makes buns. He makes sponge cakes. Think of it--he makes +jam-puffs! + + * * * * * + +But romance could not leave Joe, even while he toiled before a London +oven. + +There was a fire on the premises, and Joe did astonishing things. After +being rescued he walked calmly back, through sheets of fire, to fetch +the cash-box from the parlour. "Never afraid of anythin'--fire, water, +gunpowder, sword, arrows--nothin'! No fear. Always brave. Ho! Ho! +Brave's lion." + +"Tell the genneman," shouted Mr. Wells, "what became of the shop." + +"Ho, business failed," roars Joe. "Pastry-cook I was. Came +down--_smash_! Lost everythin'. Every penny! Ho! Ho! But what's odds? +Happy and jolly! Nothin' wrong. I'm a'right. What's odds?" + +"Your old missus is dead, ain't she, Joe?" shouts Mr. Wells. + +"Ess," answers Joe cheerfully. "Gone. Dead." He points towards the floor +with a twitching finger, and stabs downward. "Dead. Years ago. Gone." + +"And what about your boy?" asks Mr. Wells. + +"No good," roars Joe, in half a rage. "He's no good. No good 't all. +Brought him up like genneman. No good." He laughs again, shakes himself +in his chair, and strikes another match. + +"He was selling things in the street when the clergyman found him," says +Mr. Wells behind his pipe. "Had a little tray strapped on to his +shoulders, and two sticks to keep him standing. Collar-studs, tie-clips, +bootlaces, matches--you know. You've often seen trays like that, I dare +say. Well, that was what Joe was doing when the clergyman found him. Not +this clergyman, you understand. The one before, Father Vivian. He's now +a bishop. Out somewhere in Africa. That's his photograph on the wall +over there. He sent us a picture-postcard the other day. Little black +woolly-headed baby with no clothes on! I haven't seen it myself, because +my eyes are bad; but they all laugh at it, and I dare say it's funny +enough. A nice man Father Vivian was. A genneman. He's a bishop now, but +he don't forget his old friends, do he?" + + * * * * * + +And as we listen to the blind man we wonder what his story is, and we +learn that he was born in Trinity Lane, Upper Thames Street, in the days +when poor people did live on that side of the water, and that he was +engaged at an early age in tide work. "Coal trade," he says, quietly. +"Seaham to London. The _Isabella_ brig. Four or five years I had of +that. Then I was off to Russia in the _Prince George_. Then I did the +trade between England and America. Then I was on a brig working the west +coast of Africa. After that I came home and married. My wife lived in +Fivefoot Lane. Her father was a carpenter. She was a good woman. She's +dead now. We buried a sight of little 'uns. I can't tell you how many. +There was a son, Harry: we buried him; a girl, 'Liza: we buried her; and +a boy, Frank: we buried him; but I can't tell you how many little 'uns. +Buried a lot, we did. Three children living now. Doing fair, they are; +pretty fair. As times go, you know. I dare say they're happy enough." + +After all these years of seafaring Mr. Wells worked on Brewer's Quay +for eleven years, and after that took a spell of work in City +warehouses. He "entered the Fur Trade." He did good work and earned good +money; but after a bit he got what he describes as "a bit of a blight" +in the eyes. He went to Moorfields hospital and underwent an operation. +The darkness didn't lift. The twilight in which he lived deepened. He +had to give up respectable work, and took to selling toys in the street. +Then, one day, he was knocked down by a cab, and was carried to +hospital, where by good fortune he fell in with Father Vivian. Father +Vivian--whose name is blessed to this day in I know not how many slum +homes--happened to want a companion for Joe, and Mr. Wells was pressed +into the service. The blind man came to take care of the paralytic, and +here they now are in the little two-roomed slum cottage, smoking their +pipes in the blackened kitchen, and declaring that they have never been +so well off in their lives before. + +His Majesty the King has no more loyal and affectionate subjects. A +friend of mine carried the two old gentlemen off to a Coronation dinner. +They had a hundred things to complain of concerning the way in which the +plates were whisked off before they had even got the savour of the dish +in their nostrils; but when it came to singing "God save the King" they +roared and cheered and shouted and cheered again, and cried till the +tears ran down their faces. And now, among their possessions, there is +nothing of which they are more proud than the gorgeous card telling how +the King and Queen of England requested the favour of their society to a +banquet. It is splendid to see these two old sea-dogs in their kitchen +fingering that card and smiling over it with a pride not to be matched +in all the world outside. + + * * * * * + +I have never heard them complain. They are old friends of mine. I have +smoked many a pipe in their kitchen; but never yet did I hear murmur or +complaint from their lips. Never once. They are most beautifully happy. +They are radiant in their happiness. I do not believe there is a room in +the world in which laughter is more constant and more spontaneous than +in the little low-roofed black kitchen where the paralytic old pirate +and the blind old seaman smoke their pipes and chuckle over the things +they have done, the sights they have seen, and the storms they have +weathered. + +Opposite to the two old gentlemen lives a great friend of theirs, a +maker of rag-dolls--a grey-headed, bent-back old veteran named Mr. +Kight. I happened to be calling on the two old gentlemen on the Fifth of +November last year, and, entering the kitchen, and while shaking hands +with Joe (who always roars with laughter when he clutches your hand, and +shakes it backwards and forwards as if he meant never to let it go) +little Mr. Wells came fumbling to my side, laughing and chuckling, +evidently with important news. + +"You know it's the Fifth of November," he said, nudging me with the +elbow of the hand which held his pipe. "You know that, don't you? +Everybody knows that. Well, I've been telling Old Joe that he ought to +let me and Mr. Kight shove a couple o' broom-sticks under his Grandfer +Chair and carry him out into the streets. He'd make a lovely Guy, +wouldn't he?" + +Mr. Wells joined a treble of laughter to the continuous bass of Joe's +gurgle, and then, stooping forward: "Joe," he shouted, "I'm telling the +genneman you ought to let me and Kight take you out in your chair for a +Guy Fawkes." + +At this Old Joe's mouth opened wider than ever, his face became purple, +and he pretended very hard indeed to laugh with a relish. But the jest +hurt him. I saw, what Mr. Wells could not see, the hurt look in his old +eyes, and, leaning to his ear, I shouted, "You'd have all the girls +running after you, Joe! You're too handsome for a Guy. They'd run you +off to church and marry you as sure as a gun." + +"Ess!" he cried, delighted. "Ess! 'Zactly." And then, after a frightful +effort to master his stammer, his face the colour of claret, his eyes +buried in their flesh, his old body twitching violently, he burst out +with the boast: "I was d----d handsome feller. Once. Ess! Handsome's +paint. Ho! Ho! Girls mad about me!" + +Happiness was restored. We drew our chairs nearer to the fire, filled +our pipes, and laughed away the winter afternoon in the best of good +spirits. + +"We've got nothing to complain of," says Mr. Wells. "Everybody is kind +to us. We've got our health, thank God! We've got a roof over our heads. +We've got food in the locker. We've generally got a bit of terbaccer +somewhere about the place. And we've done with the sea." After a pause, +he adds, "When the Call comes, we shall be here to answer it. Early or +late, we shall be ready; me and Old Joe." + +Once more he leans across to the pirate. "I'm telling the genneman," he +shouted; "that we've nothing to complain about, that when the Call comes +we shall be ready." + +"Ess!" shouts Old Joe cheerfully, with his pipe in the air. "Always +ready! That's me. Always ready. But, don't want to die. Not yet. No! No +fear. Why should I! Happy and jolly I am. Happy and jolly!" And once +more he throws himself back with twitching shoulders, the chin fallen, +the eyes scarcely visible in their bags of flesh, and laughs till the +tears come. + +"He's wunnerful hearty for eighty-two," says Mr. Wells quietly. + + +HITS AND MISSES +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + Shop-windows shivered in the frames + Do advertise the women's aims. + + +THE BROKEN WINDOW +[Sidenote: _Anon._] + + Till Venus saw a Suffragette + Cried she, "But women should regret + A broken glass!" But then, next minute, + "Poor thing! she saw her image in it!" + + + +WIT ON OCCASION + +_Lamb said that the greatest pleasure in life was to do good in secret +and be found out by accident_. + + * * * * * + +"_I suppose" said Lamb, "that Johnson was thinking of Shakespeare making +Hector talk about Aristotle when he says, + +And panting Time toils after him in vain_." + + * * * * * + +_A clergyman who had several livings was under discussion. "Why, such +fellows look at a cure of souls like a cure of herrings--so much per +hundred." + +"Ah, but the herring cures fulfil their contract," said Jerrold. + +He called clerical pluralists_ polypi, _parsons with many stomachs and +no hearts_. + + * * * * * + +_A young prince had just been born and they were firing royal salutes to +celebrate the occasion. A bystander exclaimed, "How they do powder these +babies!_" + + * * * * * + +_In a pompous speech of self-defence the orator wound up by declaring +himself the guardian of his own honour. "What a sinecure!" murmured his +opponent._ + +"_How do you like babies, Mr. Lamb?" cried the gushing mother._ + +"_Boi-boi-boiled," answered the stammering old bachelor._ + + * * * * * + +_Foote used to say that the Irish take us in and the Scots turn us out._ + + * * * * * + +_A stout duellist once said to his diminutive antagonist, "It is a +perfectly unequal contest. It is almost impossible to hit any one of +your size, or to miss any one of mine."_ + +"_I agree," said his opponent. "And I will chalk my size on your body. +We will not count the shots that go out of the ring_." + + * * * * * + +"_Ah," said Curran, noticing an Irish friend walking along +absent-mindedly with his tongue out, "he is evidently trying to catch +the English accent_." + + * * * * * + +_Sydney Smith was asked his opinion of Newton's portrait of Tom Moore. +"Couldn't you," he asked the painter, "put more hostility to the +Established Church into the face?_" + + * * * * * + +_An intemperate duke asked Foote how he should go to a masquerade. "Go +sober," said Foote._ + + * * * * * + +"_I'm afraid the salad is gritty," apologised the host. + +"Gritty!" mumbled the guest, "it's a gravel path with a few weeds in +it_." + + * * * * * + +"_I never read a book before reviewing it" said Sydney Smith to a +friend. "It is so apt to prejudice one_." + + * * * * * + +_Bentley, the publisher, said to Jerrold, "I thought of calling my +magazine_ The Wits' Miscellany, _but I have decided on_ Bentley's +Miscellany." + +"_My dear fellow," said Jerrold, "why go to the other extreme?_" + + * * * * * + +"_What a magnificent-looking man!" said Goldsmith of a stranger; "he +ought to be a Lord Chancellor." + +He was, in fact, a rich baker. + +"Not Chancellor," whispered a friend; "only Master of the Rolls_." + + * * * * * + +_Coleridge was dreaming of the time when he was a minister. "Ah, +Charles, you never heard me preach." "My dear fellow," cried Lamb, "I +never heard you do anything else_." + + * * * * * + +_Sydney Smith said that the whole of his life had been spent like a +razor--in hot water or a scrape._ + + * * * * * + +_As a means of bragging of his acquaintance, a man was remarking to the +company that, although he had often dined at the Duke of Devonshire's, +there had never been any fish. "Is it not_ extraordinary?" _he asked. +Jerrold said, "Hardly. They ate it all upstairs_." + + * * * * * + +_A jealous general was abusing Wolfe to the King. + +"The man is mad," he declared bitterly. + +George sighed. "I wish," he said, "that I could persuade him to bite all +my generals."_ + + * * * * * + +_A rich man, formerly a cheesemonger, was discussing the Poor Law with +Lamb, and boasted that he had got rid of all the sentimental stuff +called the milk of human kindness. + +"Yes," said Lamb sadly, "you turned it into cheese long ago_." + + * * * * * + +_Jerrold said of some one who sent his wife effusive letters but not a +farthing of money, that he was full of "unremitting kindness_." + + * * * * * + +_A Turkish proverb says, "The devil tempts the busy man, but the idle +man tempts the devil_." + + * * * * * + +_Gladstone once asked, "In what country except ours would (as I know to +have happened) a Parish Ball have been got up in order to supply funds +for a Parish Hearse?_" + + * * * * * + +"_They're rising in Connaught," shouted a scaremonger, dashing into +Chesterfield's room. Quietly he drew out his watch. "Nine o'clock," he +said gently. "They ought to be_." + + * * * * * + +"_He is one of those people," said Jerrold of a mistaken philanthropist, +"who would vote for a supply of tooth-picks in a time of famine"; and of +another--"He would hold an umbrella over a duck while it was raining_." + + * * * * * + +"_Hark at Boswell," muttered Wilkes, "telling every one how he has had +his handkerchief picked from his pocket--it's merely brag, to show us he +had one_." + + * * * * * + +"_Do you approve of clergymen riding?" Sydney Smith was asked. "Well, it +depends," he replied thoughtfully; "yes, if they turn their toes out_." + + * * * * * + +"_The testator meant to keep a life interest in the estate himself," +remarked the judge, who was trying a will case._ + +"_Surely, my lord," said the barrister, "you are taking the will for the +deed_." + + * * * * * + +_Sydney Smith said of an obstinate man, "You might as well try to +poultice the humps off a camel's back_." + + +A MASTER WITH BRAINS +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +At Bideford, died the only master I ever had who had any brains. When I +was fourteen or fifteen he taught me to place my knowledge as it came, +to have its proportion. He so kept me to the drawing of maps that the +earth has ever since lain beneath me as if I could see it all from a +great height, and he so taught me history that I see it now as a +panorama, from the first days. In his time I could draw the coasts of +all the world in very fair proportion, without looking at a map, and I +think I could do it now, though not so well as then, perhaps; and always +afterwards, if ever I heard or saw or read up a thing, I knew in what +little pocket of the mind to put it. Right up to the end of Oxford days +no one could compare with him. His name was Abraham Thompson, a doctor +of divinity he was; black hair grew on the back of his hands which I +used to marvel at, he was very handsome and dark. Funny little boys +are--how they watch. He could be very angry and caned furiously; at +times I caught it. I think he grew poor in his last years and had the +school at Bideford. I never heard about him at the end. I worshipped him +when I was little, and we used to look at each other in class. I wonder +what he thought when he looked; I used to think Abraham of Ur of the +Chaldees was like him, and I am sure if he had bought a piece of land to +bury his Sarah in, he would have been just as courteous as the first +Abraham. I was always sorry that he was called Thompson, for I like +lovely names--should have liked one myself and a handsome form--yes, I +should. So that was Thompson. I have thought how far more needful with a +lad is one year with a man of intellect than ten years of useless +teaching. He taught us few facts, but spent all the time drilling us +that we might know what to do with them when they came. Abraham Kerr +Thompson, that was his name. I wonder if any one remembers him. A +strange thing he would do, unlike any other I ever heard of; he would +call up the class, and open any book and make the head boy read out a +chance sentence, and then he would set to work with every word--how it +grew and came to mean this or that. With the flattest sentence in the +world he would take us to ocean waters and the marshes of Babylon and +the hills of Caucasus and wilds of Tartary and the constellations and +abysses of space. Yes, no one ever taught me anything but he only--I +hope he made a good end. But how long ago it all was! It is forty-five +years since I saw him. + + +A SPLENDID ADVENTURER +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +When I was fifteen or sixteen he (Newman) taught me so much I do +mind--things that will never be out of me. In an age of sofas and +cushions he taught me to be indifferent to comfort, and in an age of +materialism he taught me to venture all on the unseen, and this so early +that it was well in me when life began, and I was equipped before I went +to Oxford with a real good panoply, and it has never failed me. So if +this world cannot tempt me with money or luxury--and it can't--or +anything it has in its trumpery treasure-house, it is most of all +because he said it in a way that touched me, not scolding nor +forbidding, nor much leading--walking with me a step in front. So he +stands to me as a great image or symbol of a man who never stooped, and +who put all this world's life in one splendid venture, which he knew as +well as you or I might fail, but with a glorious scorn of everything +that was not his dream. + + +RED LION MARY +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +The life in Red Lion Square was a very happy one in its freedom. Red +Lion Mary's originality all but equalled that of the young men, and she +understood them and their ways thoroughly. Their rough and ready +hospitality was seconded by her with unfailing good temper; she +cheerfully spread mattresses on the floor for friends who stayed there, +and when the mattresses came to an end it was said that she built up +beds with boots and portmanteaus. Cleanliness, beyond the limits of the +tub, was impossible in Red Lion Square, and hers was not a nature to +dash itself against impossibilities, so the subject was pretty much +ignored, but she was ready to fulfil any mission or do anything for them +at a moment's notice, which was much more important. Never did she +dishonour their bills. + +"Mary!" cried Edward one evening when ordering breakfast over-night for +Rossetti, who was staying with them, "let us have quarts of hot coffee, +pyramids of toast, and multitudinous quantities of milk"; which to her +meant all he intended. "Dear Mary," wrote Rossetti, "please go and smash +a brute in Red Lion passage to-morrow. He had to send a big book, a +scrapbook, to Master Crabb, 34, Westbourne Place, Eaton Square, and he +hasn't done it. I don't know his name, but his shop is dirty and full of +account books. This book was ordered ten days ago, and was to have been +sent home the next day _and was paid for_--so sit on him hard to-morrow +and dig a fork into his eye, as I can't come that way to murder him +myself." From these hints she knew exactly what to say. + +Her memory was excellent and sense of humour keen, so that some of the +commissions on which she was sent gave her great enjoyment--as one day +when Edward told her to take a cab and go to Mr. Watts at Little Holland +House, and ask him for the loan of "whatever draperies and any other old +things he could spare," and Mr. Watts, amused at the form of the +request, sent her back with a parcel of draperies and an old pair of +brown trousers, bidding her tell Mr. Jones those were the only "old +things" he could spare. This delighted Edward, and he detained Mary +while he took down his "Vasari" and read to her of the old Italian +painter who had his breeches made of leather because they wore out so +quickly; and then he professed to be grateful for Mr. Watts' gift, and +said he would have the brown trousers made to fit him. + +Mary wrote a good hand and spelled well, and would sit down and write +with gravity such a note as the following, dictated to her by Edward. +"Mr. Bogie Jones' compts. to Mr. Price and begs to inform him he expects +to be down for Commemoration and that he hopes to meet him, clean, well +shaved, and with a contrite heart." Morris' quick temper annoyed her, +but she once prettily said, "Though he was so short-tempered, I seemed +so necessary to him at all times, and felt myself his man Friday." + + +ELEPHANT +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +My reading aloud to him began soon after our marriage, with Plutarch's +"Lives"--an old folio edition. Holland's translation of Pliny's "Natural +History" was also a treasure for the purpose, and the "Arabian Nights" +were ever fresh. The description of "Mrs. Gamp's apartment in Kingsgate +Street, High Holborn," was read over and over again until I, but not he, +was wearied for a time. These were all classics admitting of no +criticism, but some books were illuminated by commentary. For instance, +the frequent comparison of Goethe with Shakespeare which G.H. Lewes +makes in his "Life of Goethe" grew tiresome to the hearer, who quietly +asked me to read the word Elephant instead of Shakespeare next time it +occurred, and the change proved refreshing. But there was a kind of book +that he reserved for himself and never liked any one to read to +him--"The Broad Stone of Honour" and "Mores Catholici" are instances: +they were kept in his own room, close to his hand, and often dipped into +in wakeful nights or early mornings. + +"Sillyish books both," he once said, "but I can't help it, I like them." +And no wonder, for his youth lay enclosed in them. + + +MY FACES +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +"Of course my faces have no expression in the sense in which people use +the word. How should they have any? They are not portraits of people in +paroxysms--paroxysms of terror, hatred, benevolence, desire, avarice, +veneration, and all the 'passions' and emotions that Le Brun and that +kind of person find so _magnifique_ in Raphael's later work--mostly +painted by his pupils and assistants, by the way. It is Winckelmann, +isn't it, who says that when you come to the age of expression in Greek +art you have come to the age of decadence? I don't remember how or where +it is said, but of course it is true--can't be otherwise in the nature +of things." + +"Portraiture," he also said, "may be great art. There is a sense, +indeed, in which it is perhaps the greatest art of any. Any portraiture +involves expression. Quite true, but expression of what? Of a passion, +an emotion, a mood? Certainly not. Paint a man or woman with the damned +'pleasing expression,' or even the 'charmingly spontaneous' so dear to +the 'photographic artist,' and you see at once that the thing is a mask, +as silly as the old tragic and comic mask. The only expression allowable +in great portraiture is the expression of character and moral quality, +not of anything temporary, fleeting, accidental. Apart from portraiture +you don't want even so much, or very seldom: in fact you only want +types, symbols, suggestions. The moment you give what people call +expression, you destroy the typical character of heads and degrade them +into portraits which stand for nothing." + + +FATHERS AND DAUGHTERS +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +The different stages of his children's lives were of profound interest +to him, and as they grew up they found in him an elder brother as well +as a father. As soon as Margaret was old enough she began to share and +then almost entirely to take my post as reader-aloud in the studio. +Beside many other books she went through the whole of Thackeray twice in +this way; Dickens was my special province. She and Edward had their own +world of fun, and for her he invented a "little language," besides the +most unheard-of names. I remember hearing him and Millais once talk to +each other about their daughters, each boasting that he was the most +devoted father. "Ah, but _you_ don't take your daughter's breakfast up +to her in bed," said Edward, certain that the prize belonged to him. +Millais' triumphant "Yes, I do!" left them only equal. + + +"ANNA KARENINA" +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +"Don't lend me any sad stories--no, not if they are masterpieces. I +cannot afford to be made unhappy, and I suspect that book 'Anna +Karenina'--I suspect it is Russian, and if it is I know what to expect, +and I couldn't bear it. There would be a beautiful woman in it--all that +is best in a woman, and she would be miserable and love some trumpery +frip (as they do) and die of finding out she had been a fool--and it +would be beautifully written and full of nature and just like life, and +I couldn't bear it. These books are written for the hard-hearted, to +melt them into a softer mood for once before they congeal again--as much +music is written--not for poets but for stockjobbers, to wring iron +tears from them for once; that is the use of sorrowful art, to penetrate +the thick hide of the obtuse, and I have grown to be a coward about +pain. I should like that Anna so much and be so sorry for her and wish I +had been the man instead of that thing she would have--and it wouldn't +be happy. Look! tells me it ends well and that the two lovers marry and +are happy ever afterwards, and I'll read it gratefully--and I shall wait +your answer." + + +TWO TRIALS +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +Whilst the Commission was sitting he went once or twice with Sir George +Lewis to the Law Courts and closely listened and watched, sitting where +he could see the face of Mr. Parnell clearly. "Charles Stewart Parnell," +he once said, "God only knows what he really was, but I saw him in court +and watched him the day long: he was like Christ." + +Of the miserable Pigott, the perjured witness against Parnell, he +wrote: "And I have grown philosophical--it came of seeing Pigott in the +witness-box, who looked like half the dreary men one meets, and I don't +see why the rest of the Pigotts shouldn't be found out too. So it made +me reflect on crime and its connection with being found out and made me +philosophical and depressed." + +But on another day his mind turned to a more cheerful exercise: "Legal +testimony doesn't affect me at all, and I want people tried for their +faces--so I spent the time in court settling things all my own way, and +I tried the Judges first and acquitted one, so that he sits in court +without a blemish on his character; and one I admitted to mercy, and of +the other have postponed the trial for further evidence: and then I +tried the counsel on both sides, and one of them I am sorry to say will +have to be hanged for his face." + + +THE FOUR HISTORIANS +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +On hearing some one quote Carlyle's contempt for invented stories and +his saying that facts were better worth writing of, Edward exclaimed: +"'Frederick the Great's' a romance; 'Monte Cristo' is real history, and +so is 'The Three Musketeers.'" And another time he said: "Ah, the +historians are so few. There's Dumas, there's Scott, there's Thackeray, +and there's Dickens, and no more--after you have said them, there's an +end." + + +SWINBURNE AND PADEREWSKI +[Sidenote: _Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones_] + +"There's a beautiful fellow in London named Paderewski--and I want to +have a face like him and look like him, and I can't--there's trouble. He +looks so like Swinburne looked at twenty that I could cry over past +things, and has his ways too--the pretty ways of him--courteous little +tricks and low bows and a hand that clings in shaking hands, and a face +very like Swinburne's, only in better drawing, but the expression the +same, and little turns and looks and jerks so like the thing I remember +that it makes me fairly jump. I asked to draw from him, and Henschel +brought him and played on the organ and sang while I drew--which was +good for the emotions but bad for the drawing. And knowing people say he +is a great master in his art, which might well be, for he looks +glorious. I praised Allah for making him and felt myself a poor thing +for several hours. Have got over it now." + + +THE VIVACIOUS VIVIER +[Sidenote: _H. Sutherland-Edwards_] + +I "breakfasted" again and again with Adolphe Sax, and had always the +same fare--"un bifteck et des oeufs sur le plat." ... + +On one occasion Vivier turned up. He was the natural enemy of Sax, for +Sax, by his system of keys, brought effective horn-playing within the +reach of ordinary performers, which lessened the immense superiority of +Vivier over horn-players in general. Vivier, however, was troubled by no +considerations of that kind. The Saxhorn, moreover, did not possess the +timbre of the horn. + +I had already met this remarkable engineer, musician, diplomatist and +professor of mystification, in London, when he was complaining with +facetious bitterness that Mr. Frederic Gye had not sent him a box for +one of Angiolina Bosio's touching performances of "La Traviata." + +He had written to the manager explaining that he was ready to shed +tears, and that he possessed a pocket handkerchief, but wanted something +more. "J'ai un mouchoir, mais pas de loge," he said. Yet his letter was +left without a reply. After waiting a day or two, and still receiving no +answer, Vivier engaged the dirtiest crossing-sweeper he could find, made +him put on a little extra mud, and sent him with a letter to Mr. Gye +demanding "the return of his correspondence." The courteous manager of +the Royal Italian Opera could scarcely have known that, besides being +one of the finest musicians and quite the finest horn player of his day, +Eugene Vivier was the most charming of men, and the spoiled child of +nearly every Court in Europe. Speaking to me once of the Emperor +Napoleon, he said, in answer to a question I had put to him as to +Napoleon III's characteristics: "He is the most gentlemanly Emperor I +know." + +"What can I do for you?" said this gentlemanly Emperor one day, when +Vivier had gone to see him at the Tuileries. + +"Come out on the balcony with me, sire," replied the genial cynic. "Some +of my creditors are sure to be passing, and it will do me good to be +seen in conversation with your Majesty." + +Besides speaking to him familiarly within view of his creditors, the +Emperor Napoleon III conferred on Vivier several well-paid sinecures. He +appointed him "Inspector of Mines," which, from conscientious motives, +knowing very little of mining, Vivier never inspected; and he was once +accused by a facetious journal of having received the post of "Librarian +to the Forest of Fontainebleau," with its multitudinous leaves. + +There were only two other Emperors at that time in Europe, and to one of +them, the Emperor of Austria, Vivier was sent on a certain occasion with +despatches--not, I fancy, in the character of Vely Pacha's secretary, +the only quasi-diplomatic post he held, but partly to facilitate his +travelling, and partly, it may be, for some private political reason. +Instead of being delayed, questioned, and searched at the frontier, as +generally happened in those days--the days before 1859--Vivier was +treated by the Custom House officials, and by the police, with all +possible respect; and journeying as an honoured personage--an emissary +from the Emperor of the French--he in due time reached Vienna, where, +hastening to the palace, he made known the object of his visit. It seems +quite possible that the despatches carried by Vivier may have possessed +particular importance, and that Napoleon III had motives of his own for +not forwarding them through the ordinary diplomatic channels. Vivier +had, in any case, been instructed to deliver them to the Emperor in +person--one of those Emperors whom he numbered among his private +acquaintances. + +A Court Chamberlain had hurried out to receive the distinguished +messenger, ready after a due interchange of compliments to usher him +into the Imperial presence. + +"Your Excellency!" began the Chamberlain, in the most obsequious manner. + +"I am not an Excellency!" replied Vivier. + +"General, then--Monsieur le General?" + +"I am not a General!" + +"Colonel, perhaps, and aide-de-camp to his Imperial Majesty?" + +"I am not in the army. I have no official rank--no rank of any kind +whatever." + +"Good heavens! then what are you?" exclaimed the Chamberlain, indignant +with himself for having treated as high-born and high-placed one who was +apparently a mere nobody. + +"I am a musician," said Vivier. + +Bounding with rage, the Court functionary made an unbecoming gesture, +such as Mephistopheles, according to the stage directions, should make +in one of the passages of Goethe's _Faust_. + +"Very well, my friend," said Vivier to himself, "I will tell the Emperor +of your rude behaviour; I will get you rapped on the knuckles" ("Je t'en +ferai donner sur les doigts"); and the uncourtly courtier was, in fact, +severely reprimanded. + +At St. Petersburg Vivier took such liberties with the Emperor Nicholas +that, if half the stories of that monarch were true, the imprudent +Frenchman would have been arrested, knouted, and sent to Siberia. + +He had just brought to perfection the art of blowing soap bubbles. The +whole secret of his process consisted, as he once informed me, in mixing +with the soap-suds a little gum. Using a solution of soap and gum, he +was able to produce bubbles of such size and solidity that they floated +in the air for an almost indefinite time, like so many small balloons. +In order to entertain the St. Petersburg public, Vivier would, in the +most benevolent manner, take his seat at an open window, and blow his +gigantic and many-coloured bubbles, until these prodigies of aerostation +had attracted a multitude of lookers-on. The delighted crowd applauded +with enthusiasm. Vivier rose from his seat and bowed. Then the applause +was renewed, and Vivier blew larger and brighter bubbles than before. + +One evening, or rather afternoon, the rays of the setting sun were +illuminating a number of iridescent balloons floating high above the +point where the Nevsky Prospect runs into the Admiralty Square, when the +Emperor Nicholas drove past, or tried to do so--for his progress was +interrupted at every step by the density of the crowd. + +"What is the meaning of all this?" asked the Emperor Nicholas. + +"It is M. Vivier blowing his soap bubbles," replied the aide-de-camp in +attendance. + +"What! Vivier, the French musician, who played the horn so wonderfully +the other night at the Winter Palace, and afterwards entertained us so +much with his conversation?" + +"The same, sire." + +"Go to him, then, and tell him that I should be glad if he would choose +some other time for his soap-bubble performances. How wonderful they +are!" + +The aide-de-camp forced his way through the crowd, went upstairs to +Vivier's apartments, and told him that the Emperor desired him not to +give his exhibition of soap bubbles at half-past three in the afternoon, +that being the time when his Majesty usually went for a drive. + +Vivier took out a pocket-book, consulted it carefully, and, turning to +the aide-de-camp, said with the utmost gravity, "That is the only hour I +have disengaged." + +Vivier, meanwhile, had had his joke; and his exhibition of soap bubbles, +or rather of gum-and-soap balloons, was now discontinued. + +The horn-playing performance to which the Emperor Nicholas had made +reference was marked by one strange, marvellous, almost inexplicable +peculiarity. The player sounded on his instrument, simultaneously, a +chord of four notes. To produce at the same time four different notes +from one and the same tube seems, and must be, an impossibility. But +Vivier did it, and the fact was certified to by Meyerbeer, Auber, +Halevy, Adolphe Adam, and other musicians of eminence. + +The only possible explanation of the matter is that Vivier executed a +very rapid arpeggio, so that the four notes which apparently were heard +together were, in fact, heard one after the other. The effect, however, +was not that of an arpeggio, but of a chord of four different notes +played simultaneously on four different instruments. + +Both for home and for out-of-doors use the mystifications practised by +Vivier were as numerous as they were varied. In an omnibus, when some +grave old lady had just risen from her seat, Vivier would assume an +expression of the utmost astonishment, and suddenly take from the place +where she had been sitting an egg, which meanwhile he had been +concealing up his sleeve. + +Or, asked to pass a coin to the conductor, he would gravely put it into +his pocket. A well-dressed, well-bred gentleman, of charming manners, +could scarcely be suspected of any intention to misappropriate a +two-sous piece. But it interested Vivier to see what, in the +circumstances, the lawful owner of the coin would do. On one occasion +Vivier, in an omnibus, alarmed his fellow passengers by pretending to be +mad. He indulged in the wildest gesticulations, and then, as if in +despair, drew a pistol from his pocket. The conductor was called upon by +acclamation to interfere, and Vivier was on the point of being disarmed +when suddenly he broke the pistol in two, handed half to the conductor +and began to eat the other half himself. It was made of chocolate! + +Vivier could not bear to see people in a hurry. According to him, there +was nothing in life worth hurrying for; and living on the Boulevard just +opposite the Rue Vivienne, he was much annoyed at seeing so many persons +hastening, towards six o'clock, to the post office on the Place de la +Bourse. He determined to pay them out, and for that purpose bought a +calf, which he took up to his apartments at night and exhibited the +next afternoon at a few minutes before six o'clock, in the balcony of +his second floor. In spite of their eagerness to catch the post, many +persons could not help stopping to look at the calf. Soon a crowd +collected, and messengers stayed their steps in order to gaze at the +unwonted apparition. Six o'clock struck, and soon after a number of men +who had missed the post returned in an irritated condition, and, +stopping before Vivier's house, shook their fists at him. Vivier went +down to them, and asked the meaning of this insolence. + +"We were not shaking our fists at you," replied the angered ones, "but +at that calf." + +"Ah! you know him then?" returned Vivier. "I was not aware of it." + +In time Vivier's calf became the subject of a legend, according to which +the animal (still in Vivier's apartments) grew to be an ox, and so +annoyed the neighbours by his lowing that; the proprietor of the house +insisted on its being sent away. Vivier told him to come; and take it, +when it was found that the calf of other days had grown to such a size +that it was impossible to get it downstairs. + + +MONSIEUR SYLVESTRE BONNARD: A CONFESSION +[Sidenote: _Anatole France, translated by Lafcadio Hearn_] + +I can see once more, with astonishing vividness, a certain doll which, +when I was eight years old, used to be displayed in the window of an +ugly little shop of the Rue de la Seine. I was very proud of being a +boy; I despised little girls; and I longed impatiently for the day +(which, alas! has come) when a strong white beard should bristle on my +chin. I played at being a soldier; and, under the pretext of obtaining +forage for my rocking-horse, I used to make sad havoc among the plants +my poor mother used to keep on her window-sill. Manly amusements those, +I should say! and nevertheless, I was consumed with longing for a doll. +Characters like Hercules have such weaknesses occasionally. Was the one +I had fallen in love with at all beautiful? No. I can see her now. She +had a splotch of vermilion on either cheek, short soft arms, horrible +wooden hands, and long sprawling legs. Her flowered petticoat was +fastened at the waist with two pins. It was a decidedly vulgar +doll--smelt of the faubourg. I remember perfectly well that, even child +as I was then, before I had put on my first pair of trousers, I was +quite conscious in my own way that this doll lacked grace and +style--that she was gross, that she was coarse. But I loved her in +spite of that; I loved her just for that; I loved her only; I wanted +her. My soldiers and my drums had become as nothing in my eyes. I ceased +to stick sprigs of heliotrope and veronica into the mouth of my +rocking-horse. That doll was all the world to me. I invented ruses +worthy of a savage to oblige Virginie, my nurse, to take me by the +little shop in the Rue de la Seine. I would press my nose against the +window until my nurse had to take my arm and drag me away. "Monsieur +Sylvestre, it is late, and your mamma will scold you." Monsieur +Sylvestre in those days made very little of either scoldings or +whippings. But his nurse lifted him up like a feather, and Monsieur +Sylvestre yielded to force. In after years, with age, he degenerated, +and sometimes yielded to fear. But at that time he used to fear nothing. + +I was unhappy. An unreasoning but irresistible shame prevented me from +telling my mother about the object of my love. Thence all my sufferings. +For many days that doll, incessantly present in fancy, danced before my +eyes, stared at me fixedly, opened her arms to me, assuming in my +imagination a sort of life which made her appear at once mysterious and +weird, and thereby all the more charming and desirable. + +Finally, one day--a day I shall never forget--my nurse took me to see my +uncle, Captain Victor, who had invited me to breakfast. I admired my +uncle a great deal, as much because he had fired the last French +cartridge at Waterloo as because he used to make with his own hands, at +my mother's table, certain chapons-a-l'ail, which he afterwards put into +the chicory-salad. I thought that was very fine! My Uncle Victor also +inspired me with much respect by his frogged coat, and still more by his +way of turning the whole house upside down from the moment he came into +it. Even now I cannot tell just how he managed it, but I can affirm that +whenever my Uncle Victor found himself in any assembly of twenty +persons, it was impossible to see or to hear anybody but him. My +excellent father, I have reason to believe, never shared my admiration +for Uncle Victor, who used to sicken him with his pipe, gave him great +thumps on the back by way of friendliness, and accused him of lacking +energy. My mother, though always showing a sister's indulgence to the +captain, sometimes advised him to fondle the brandy bottle a little less +frequently. But I had no part either in these repugnances or these +reproaches, and Uncle Victor inspired me with the purest enthusiasm. It +was therefore with a feeling of pride that I entered into the little +lodging-house where he lived, in the Rue Guenegaud. The entire +breakfast, served on a small table close to the fireplace, consisted of +pork-meats and confectionery. + +The Captain stuffed me with cakes and pure wine. He told me of +numberless injustices to which he had been a victim. He complained +particularly of the Bourbons; and as he neglected to tell me who the +Bourbons were, I got the idea--I can't tell how--that the Bourbons were +horse-dealers established at Waterloo. The Captain, who never +interrupted his talk except for the purpose of pouring out wine, +furthermore made charges against a number of _morveux_, of _jeanfesses_, +and "good-for-nothings" whom I did not know anything about, but whom I +hated from the bottom of my heart. At dessert, I thought I heard the +Captain say my father was a man who could be led anywhere by the nose; +but I am not quite sure that I understood him. I had a buzzing in my +ears; and it seemed to me that the table was dancing. + +My uncle put on his frogged coat, took his _chapeau tromblon_, and we +descended to the street, which seemed to me singularly changed. It +looked to me as if I had not been in it before for ever so long a time. +Nevertheless, when we came to the Rue de la Seine, the idea of my doll +suddenly returned to my mind, and excited me in an extraordinary way. My +head was on fire. I resolved upon a desperate expedient. We were passing +before the window. She was there, behind the glass--with her red cheeks, +and her flowered petticoat, and her long legs. + +"Uncle," I said, with a great effort, "will you buy that doll for me?" + +And I waited. + +"Buy a doll for a boy--_sacre bleu_!" cried my uncle, in a voice of +thunder. "Do you wish to dishonour yourself? And it is that old Mag +there that you want! Well, I must compliment you, my young fellow! If +you grow up with such tastes as that, you will never have any pleasure +in life; and your comrades will call you a precious ninny. If you asked +me for a sword or a gun, my boy, I would buy them for you with the last +silver crown of my pension. But to buy a doll for you--a thousand +thunders!--to disgrace you! Never in the world! Why, if I were even to +see you playing with a puppet rigged out like that, monsieur, my +sister's son, I would disown you for my nephew!" + +On hearing these words, I felt my heart so wrung that nothing but +pride--a diabolic pride--kept me from crying. + +My uncle, suddenly calming down, returned to his ideas about the +Bourbons; but I, still smarting from the blow of his indignation, felt +an unspeakable shame. My resolve was quickly made. I promised myself +never to disgrace myself--I firmly and for ever renounced that +red-cheeked doll. + +I felt that day, for the first time, the austere sweetness of sacrifice. + +Captain, though it be true that all your life you swore like a pagan, +smoked like a beadle, and drank like a bell-ringer, be your memory +nevertheless honoured--not merely because you were a brave soldier, but +also because you revealed to your little nephew in petticoats the +sentiment of heroism! Pride and laziness had made you almost +insupportable, O my Uncle Victor!--but a great heart used to beat under +those frogs upon your coat. You always used to wear, I now remember, a +rose in your button-hole. That rose which you allowed, as I now have +reason to believe, the shop-girls to pluck for you--that, large, +open-hearted flower, scattering its petals to all the winds, was the +symbol of your glorious youth. You despised neither absinthe nor +tobacco; but you despised life. Neither delicacy nor common sense could +have been learned from you, captain; but you taught me, even at an age +when my nurse had to wipe my nose, a lesson of honour and +self-abnegation that I will never forget. + + +THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS +[Sidenote: _Dean Swift_] + +We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us +love one another. + + * * * * * + +The latter part of a wise man's life is taken up in curing the follies, +prejudices, and false opinions he had contracted in the former. + + * * * * * + +When a true genius appeareth in the world you may know him by this +infallible sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him. + + * * * * * + +Although men are accused of not knowing their own weakness, yet perhaps +as few know their own strength. It is in men as in soils, where +sometimes there is a vein of gold, which the owner knows not of. + + * * * * * + +If a man would register all his opinions upon love, politics, religion, +learning, etc., beginning from his youth, and so go on to old age, what +a bundle of inconsistencies and contradictions would appear at last! + + * * * * * + +The reason why so few marriages are happy is because young ladies spend +their time in making nets, not in making cages. + + * * * * * + +"He who does not provide for his own house," St. Paul says, "is worse +than an infidel." And I think, he who provides only for his own house is +just equal with an infidel. + + * * * * * + +An idle reason lessens the value of the good ones you gave before. + + * * * * * + +When I am reading a book, whether wise or silly, it seems to me to be +alive and talking to me. + + * * * * * + +Very few men, properly speaking, _live_ at present, but are providing to +live another time. + + * * * * * + +If the men of wit and genius would resolve never to complain in their +works of critics and detractors, the next age would not know that they +ever had any. + + * * * * * + +As universal a practice as lying is, and as easy a one as it seems, I do +not remember to have heard three good lies in all my conversation, even +from those who were most celebrated in that faculty. + + +GOETHE IN HIS OLD AGE +[Sidenote: _W.M. Thackeray_] + +In 1831, though he had retired from the world, Goethe would nevertheless +very kindly receive strangers. His daughter-in-law's tea-table was +always spread for us. We passed hour after hour there, and night after +night, with the pleasantest talk and music. We read over endless novels +and poems in French, English, and German. My delight in those days was +to make caricatures for children. I was touched to find (in 1855) that +they were remembered and some even kept to the present time; and very +proud to be told, as a lad, that the great Goethe had looked at some of +them. + +He remained in his private apartments, where only a very few privileged +persons were admitted; but he liked to know all that was happening, and +interested himself about all strangers. Whenever a countenance took his +fancy there was an artist settled in Weimar who made a portrait of it. +Goethe had quite a gallery of heads, in black and white, taken by this +painter. His house was all over pictures, drawings, casts, statues and +medals. + +Of course, I remember very well the perturbation of spirit with which, +as a lad of nineteen, I received the long-expected intimation that the +Herr Geheimrath would see me on such a morning. This notable audience +took place in a little antechamber of his private apartments, covered +all round with antique carts and bas-reliefs. He was habited in a long +grey or drab redingote, with a white neckcloth and a red ribbon in his +button-hole. He kept his hands behind his back just as in Rauch's +statuette. His complexion was very clear, bright, and rosy. His eyes +extraordinarily dark, piercing, and brilliant. I felt quite afraid +before them, and remember comparing them to the eyes of the hero of a +certain romance called "Melmoth the Wanderer," which used to alarm us +boys thirty years ago; eyes of an individual who had made a bargain with +a Certain Person, and at an extreme old age retained these eyes in their +awful splendour. I fancy Goethe must have been still more handsome as an +old man than even in the days of his youth. His voice was very rich and +sweet. He asked me questions about myself, which I answered as best I +could. I recollect I was at first astonished, and then somewhat +relieved, when I found he spoke French with not a good accent. + +_Vidi tantum._ I saw him but three times. Once walking in the garden of +his house in the _Frauenplan_; once going to step into his chariot on a +sunshiny day, wearing a cap and a cloak with a red collar. He was +caressing at the time a beautiful little golden-haired granddaughter, +over whose sweet fair face the earth has long since closed, too. + +Any of us who had books or magazines from England sent them to him, and +he examined them eagerly. _Fraser's Magazine_ had recently come out, and +I remember he was interested in those admirable outline portraits which +appeared for a while in its pages. But there was one, a very ghastly +caricature of Mr. Rogers, which, as Madame de Goethe told me, he shut up +and put away from him angrily. "They would make me look like that," he +said; though, in truth, I can fancy nothing more serene, majestic, and +_healthy_-looking than the grand old Goethe. + +Though his sun was setting, the sky round about was calm and bright, and +that little Weimar illumined by it. In every one of those kind salons +the talk was still of Art and Letters. The theatre, though possessing no +extraordinary actors, was still connected with a noble intelligence and +order. The actors read books and were men of letters and gentlemen, +holding a not unkindly relationship with the _Adel_. At Court the +conversation was exceedingly friendly, simple, and polished.... In the +respect paid by this court to the Patriarch of Letters, there was +something ennobling, I think, alike to the subject and the sovereign. +With a five-and-twenty years' experience since those happy days of which +I write, and an acquaintance with an immense variety of human kind, I +think I have never seen a society more simple, charitable, courteous, +gentlemanlike, than that of the dear little Saxon city where the good +Schiller and the great Goethe lived and lie buried. + + +LITTLE BILLEE +[Sidenote: _W.M. Thackeray_] + +Air--"Il y avait un petit navire" + + There were three sailors of Bristol city, + Who took a boat and went to sea. + But first with beef and captain's biscuits + And pickled pork they loaded she. + + There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, + And the youngest he was little Billee. + Now when they got as far as the Equator + They'd nothing left but one split pea. + + Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, + "I am extremely hungaree." + To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, + "We've nothing left, us must eat we." + + Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, + "With one another we shouldn't agree! + There's little Bill, he's young and tender, + We're old and tough, so let's eat he. + + "Oh, Billy, we're going to kill and eat you, + So undo the button of your chimie." + When Bill received this information, + He used his pocket-handkerchie. + + "First let me say my catechism + Which my poor mammy taught to me." + "Make haste, make haste," says guzzling Jimmy, + While Jack pulled out his snickersnee. + + So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast, + And down he fell on his bended knee. + He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment + When up he jumps, "There's land I see. + + "Jerusalem and Madagascar, + And North and South Amerikee: + There's the British flag a-riding at anchor, + With Admiral Napier, K.C.B." + + So when they got aboard of the Admiral's + He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee; + But as for little Bill, he made him + The Captain of a Seventy-Three. + + +THE SOUTH COUNTRY +[Sidenote: _Hilaire Belloc_] + + When I am living in the Midlands + That are sodden and unkind, + I light my lamp in the evening: + My work is left behind; + And the great hills of the South Country + Come back into my mind. + + The great hills of the South Country, + They stand along the sea: + And it's there walking in the high woods, + That I could wish to be, + And the men that were boys when I was a boy, + Walking along with me. + + The men that live in North England, + I saw them for a day: + Their hearts are set upon the waste fells, + Their skies are fast and grey; + From their castle walls a man may see + The mountains far away. + + The men that live in West England + They see the Severn strong, + A-rolling on rough water brown + Light aspen leaves along. + They have the secret of the rocks, + And the oldest kind of song. + + But the men that live in the South Country + Are the kindest and most wise, + They get their laughter from the loud surf, + And the faith in their happy eyes + Comes surely from our Sister the Spring, + When over the sea she flies; + The violets suddenly bloom at her feet + She blesses us with surprise. + + I never get between the pines + But I smell the Sussex air; + Nor I never come on a belt of sand + But my home is there. + And along the sky the line of the Downs + So noble and so bare. + + A lost thing could I never find, + Nor a broken thing mend: + And I fear I shall be all alone + When I get towards the end. + Who will there be to comfort me, + Or who will be my friend? + + I will gather and carefully make my friends + Of the men of the Sussex Weald, + They watch the stars from silent folds, + They stiffly plough the field. + By them and the God of the South Country + My poor soul shall be healed. + + If ever I become a rich man, + Or if ever I grow to be old, + I will build a house with deep thatch + To shelter me from the cold, + And there shall the Sussex songs be sung + And the story of Sussex told. + + I will hold my house in the high wood + Within a walk of the sea, + And the men that were boys when I was a boy + Shall sit and drink with me. + + +ARAB LOVE-SONG +[Sidenote: _Francis Thompson_] + + The hunched camels of the night[11] + Trouble the bright + And silver waters of the moon. + The Maiden of the Morn will soon + Through Heaven stray and sing, + Star gathering. + + Now while the dark about our loves is strewn, + Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come! + And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb. + + Leave thy father, leave thy mother + And thy brother; + Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart! + Am I not thy father and thy brother, + And thy mother? + And thou--what needest with thy tribe's black tents + Who hast the red pavilion of my heart? + + +OUT OF THE MOUTH OF BABES +[Sidenote: _Wilfrid Maynell_] + + As high up in a house as a nest + In a tree, + They have gone for the night to their rest, + The Babes three. + + One will say, when they wake, with arms crossed, + "Jesus blest!" + One will cry "Mother mine"--and be lost + In that breast. + + "Ta-ra-ra," then the littlest maid saith, + Two and gay; + And loud laughs with the last of her breath, + "Boom-de-ay!" + + What they say, in their nests, these dear birds, + Is all even: + For their speech, be whatever their words, + Is of Heaven. + + +THEIR BEST +[Sidenote: _Wilfrid Maynell_] + + She is a very simple maid-- + Nicknamed a "tweeny"; + The cook's and housemaid's riven aid, + Christ-named Irene. + And when, in lower regions, she + Hears hurled request, + She laughs or cries: "Oh, right you be, + I'll do my best." + + Her very best, be very sure! + She holds it fast-- + Religion undefiled and pure. + And, at the last, + When Life, from this sad house of her, + Flits like a guest, + She'll curtsy to the Judge: "O Sir, + I did my best." + + The Judge, for sure, will bow His head; + And, round the throne, + Angels will know to God they've led + His very own. + This sentence then shall gently fall: + "Irene, you + Have done your best: and that is all + Even God can do." + + +MAGNIFICENT ENDS +[Sidenote: _Disraeli in "Vivian Grey"_] + +In the plenitude of his ambition he stopped one day to enquire in what +manner he could obtain his magnificent ends: "The Bar--pooh! law and bad +jokes till we are forty; and then with the most brilliant success, the +prospect of gout and a coronet. Besides, to succeed as an advocate, I +must be a great lawyer, and to be a great lawyer, I must give up my +chance of being a great man. The Services in war time are only fit for +desperadoes (and that truly am I); but, in peace, are fit only for +fools. The Church is more rational. Let me see: I should certainly like +to act Wolsey, but the thousand and one chances against me! and truly I +feel _my_ destiny should not be on a chance. Were I the son of a +millionaire, or a noble, I might have _all_. Curse on my lot! that the +want of a few rascal counters, and the possession of a little rascal +blood should mar my fortunes!" + + +GENIUS, WHEN YOUNG +[Sidenote: _Disraeli in "Coningsby"_] + +"Nay," said the stranger; "for life in general there is but one decree. +Youth is a blunder; Manhood a struggle; Old Age a regret. Do not +suppose," he added smiling, "that I hold that youth is genius; all that +I say is that genius, when young, is divine. Why, the greatest captains +of ancient and modern times both conquered Italy at five-and-twenty! +Youth, extreme youth, overthrew the Persian Empire. Don John of Austria +won Lepanto at twenty-five, the greatest battle of modern time; had it +not been for the jealousy of Philip, the next year he would have been +Emperor of Mauretania. Gaston de Foix was only twenty-two when he stood +a victor on the plain of Ravenna. Every one remembers Conde and Rocroy +at the same age. Gustavus Adolphus--look at his captains; that wonderful +Duke of Weimar, only thirty-six when he died. Banier himself, after all +his miracles, died at forty-five. Cortes was little more than thirty +when he gazed upon the golden cupolas of Mexico. When Maurice of Saxony +died, at thirty-two, all Europe acknowledged the loss of the greatest +captain and the profoundest statesman of the age. Then there is Nelson, +Clive; but these are warriors, and perhaps you may think there are +greater things than war. I do not: I worship the Lord of Hosts. But take +the most illustrious achievements of civil prudence. Innocent III., the +greatest of the Popes, was the despot of Christendom at thirty-seven. +John de Medici was a Cardinal at fifteen, and, according to +Guicciardini, baffled with his statecraft Ferdinand of Aragon himself. +He was Pope as Leo X. at thirty-seven. Luther robbed even him of his +richest province at thirty-five. Take Ignatius Loyola and John Wesley; +they worked with young brains. Ignatius was only thirty when he made his +pilgrimage and wrote the "Spiritual Exercises." Pascal wrote a great +work at sixteen, and died at thirty-seven, the greatest of Frenchmen. + +"Ah, that fatal thirty-seven, which reminds me of Byron, greater even as +a man than a writer. Was it experience that guided the pencil of Raphael +when he painted the palaces of Rome? He, too, died at thirty-seven. +Richelieu was Secretary of State at thirty-one. Well then, there were +Bolingbroke and Pitt, both ministers before other men left off cricket. +Grotius was in great practice at seventeen, and Attorney-General at +twenty-four. And Acquaviva; Acquaviva was General of the Jesuits, ruled +every Cabinet in Europe, and colonised America before he was +thirty-seven. What a career!" exclaimed the stranger; rising from his +chair and walking up and down the room; "the secret sway of Europe! That +was indeed a position! But it is needless to multiply instances! The +history of Heroes is the history of Youth." + + +GUARDIAN ANGELS +[Sidenote: _Disraeli in "Tancred"_] + +"What should I be without my debts?" he would sometimes exclaim; "dear +companions of my life that never desert me! All my knowledge of human +nature is owing to them: it is in managing my affairs that I have +sounded the depths of the human heart, recognised all the combinations +of human character, developed my own powers and mastered the resources +of others. What expedient in negotiation is unknown to me? What degree +of endurance have I not calculated? What play of the countenance have I +not observed? Yes, among my creditors I have disciplined that diplomatic +ability that shall some day confound and control Cabinets. Oh, my debts, +I feel your presence like that of guardian angels! If I be lazy, you +prick me to action; if elate, you subdue me to reflection; and thus it +is that you alone can secure that continuous yet controlled energy which +conquers mankind." + + +AN EVENING IN SPAIN +[Sidenote: _Disraeli to his Mother (1830)_] + +After dinner you take your siesta. I generally sleep for two hours. I +think this practice conducive to health. Old people, however, are apt to +carry it to excess. By the time I have risen and arranged my toilette it +is time to steal out, and call upon any agreeable family whose Tertullia +you may choose to honour, which you do, after the first time, uninvited, +and with them you take your tea or chocolate. This is often _al fresco_, +under the piazza or colonnade of the _patio_. Here you while away the +time until it is cool enough for the _alameda_ or public walk. At Cadiz, +and even at Seville, up the Guadalquivir, you are sure of a delightful +breeze from the water. The sea-breeze comes like a spirit. The effect is +quite magical. As you are lolling in listless languor in the hot and +perfumed air, an invisible guest comes dancing into the party and +touches them all with an enchanted wand. All start, all smile. It has +come; it is the sea-breeze. There is much discussion whether it is as +strong, or whether weaker, than the night before. The ladies furl their +fans and seize their mantillas, the cavaliers stretch their legs and +give signs of life. All rise. I offer my arm to Dolores or Florentina +(is not this familiarity strange?), and in ten minutes you are in the +_alameda_. What a change? All is now life and liveliness. Such bowing, +such kissing, such fluttering of fans, such gentle criticism of gentle +friends! But the fan is the most wonderful part of the whole scene. A +Spanish lady with her fan might shame the tactics of a troop of horse. +Now she unfurls it with the slow pomp and conscious elegance of a +peacock. Now she flutters it with all the languor of a listless beauty, +now with all the liveliness of a vivacious one. Now in the midst of a +very tornado, she closes it with a whir which makes you start, pop! In +the midst of your confusion Dolores taps you on the elbow; you turn +round to listen, and Florentina pokes you in your side. Magical +instrument! You know that it speaks a particular language, and gallantry +requires no other mode to express its most subtle conceits or its most +unreasonable demands than this slight, delicate organ. But remember, +while you read, that here, as in England, it is not confined to your +delightful sex. I also have my fan, which makes my cane extremely +jealous. If you think I have grown extraordinarily effeminate, learn +that in this scorching clime the soldier will not mount guard without +one. Night wears on, we sit, we take a _panal_, which is as quick work +as snapdragon, and far more elegant; again we stroll. Midnight clears +the public walks, but few Spanish families retire till two. A solitary +bachelor like myself still wanders, or still lounges on a bench in the +_warm_ moonlight. The last guitar dies away, the cathedral clock wakes +up your reverie, you too seek your couch, and amid a gentle, sweet flow +of loveliness, and light, and music, and fresh air, thus dies a day in +Spain. Adieu, my dearest mother. A thousand loves to all. + + +A MALTESE SENSATION +[Sidenote: _Disraeli to his Father (1830)_] + +I had no need of letters of introduction here, and have already "troops +of friends." The fact is, in our original steam-packet there were some +agreeable fellows, officers, whom I believe I never mentioned to you. +They have been long expecting your worship's offspring, and have gained +great fame in repeating his third-rate stories at second hand; so in +consequence of these messengers I am received with branches of palm. +Here the younkers do nothing but play rackets, billiards, and cards, +race and smoke. To govern men, you must either excel them in their +accomplishments, or despise them. Clay does one, I do the other, and we +are both equally popular. Affectation tells here even better than wit. +Yesterday, at the racket court, sitting in the gallery among strangers, +the ball entered, and lightly struck me and fell at my feet. I picked it +up, and observing a young rifleman excessively stiff, I humbly requested +him to forward its passage into the court, as I really had never thrown +a ball in my life. This incident has been the general subject of +conversation at all the messes to-day! + + +HIS FUTURE WIFE +[Sidenote: _Disraeli to his Sister (1832)_] + +The soiree last night at Bulwer's was really brilliant, much more so +than the first. There were a great many dames of distinction, and no +blues. I should, perhaps, except Sappho, who was quite changed; she had +thrown off Greco-Bromptonian costume and was perfectly _a la Francaise_ +and really looked pretty. At the end of the evening I addressed a few +words to her, of the value of which she seemed sensible. I was +introduced, "by particular desire," to Mrs. Wyndham Lewis, a pretty +little woman, a flirt and a rattle; indeed, gifted with a volubility I +should think unequalled, and of which I can convey no idea. She told me +that she liked "silent, melancholy men." I answered that "I had no doubt +of it." + + +KNOWSLEY OR THE PARTHENON +[Sidenote: _Disraeli to Mrs. Brydges Willyams (1862)_] + +They say the Greeks, resolved to have an English King, in consequence of +the refusal of Prince Alfred to be their monarch, intend to elect Lord +Stanley. If he accepts the charge, I shall lose a powerful friend and +colleague. It is a dazzling adventure for the House of Stanley, but they +are not an imaginative race, and I fancy they will prefer Knowsley to +the Parthenon, and Lancashire to the Attic plains. It is a privilege to +live in this age of rapid and brilliant events. What an error to +consider it a utilitarian age! It is one of infinite romance. Thrones +tumble down, and crowns are offered like a fairy tale; and the most +powerful people in the world, male and female, a few years ago were +adventurers, exiles, and demireps. + + +JENNY KISSED ME +[Sidenote: _Leigh Hunt_] + + Jenny kissed me when we met, + Jumping from the chair she sat in; + Time, you thief, who love to get + Sweets into your list, put that in: + Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, + Say that health and wealth have missed me, + Say I'm growing old, but add, + Jenny kissed me. + + + + +A WAR MEDLEY + + +THE WAR, WEEK BY WEEK +[Sidenote: _Walter Emanuel in "Punch"_] + +August 12-October 7 + +The foresight of the British Public in refusing to subscribe the large +amount of money asked of them for the Olympic Sports in Berlin is now +apparent. + + * * * * * + +Wilhelm II is said to be extremely annoyed in his capacity as a British +Admiral that he is not being kept fully informed as to the movements of +our Fleet. + + * * * * * + +The coming generation would certainly seem to be all right. Even +children are taking part in the fray. The Boy Scouts are helping +manfully here, and at Liege the Germans, we are told, used nippers for +cutting wire entanglements. + + * * * * * + +The London Museum is open again. The Curator, we understand, would be +glad to add to his collection of curiosities any Londoner who is still +in favour of a small Navy. + + * * * * * + +"Cambridge public-houses," we read, "are to close at 9 p.m." Such dons +as are still up for the Long Vacation are said to be taking it gamely in +spite of the inconvenience of accustoming themselves to the new +regulation. + +Reports still continue to come in as to the outbursts of rage which +took place in Germany when the news of our participation in the War +reached that country. Seeing that we had merely been asked to allow our +friends to be robbed and murdered, our interference is looked upon as +peculiarly gratuitous. + +There would seem to be no end to the social horrors of the War. The +Teuton journal, _Manufakturist_, is now prophesying that one of its +results will be the substitution of German for French fashions. + + * * * * * + +According to the _Evening News_ three elephants have been requisitioned +from the Zoo at the White City by the military authorities. In Berlin, +no doubt, this will be taken to signify that our heavy cavalry mounts +are giving out. + + * * * * * + +A somewhat illiterate correspondent writes to say that he considers that +the French ought to have allowed the Mad Dog to retain Looneyville. + + * * * * * + +The German papers publish the statement that a Breslau merchant has +offered 30,000 marks to the German soldier who, weapon in hand, shall be +the first to place his feet on British soil. By a characteristic piece +of sharp practice the reward, it will be noted, is offered to the man +personally and would not be payable to his next-of-kin. + + * * * * * + +It is reported that the Kaiser is proceeding to East Prussia to assume +the chief command there. In Petrograd the news is only credited by +extreme optimists. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Lloyd George's statement that "The Prussian Junker is the road-hog +of modern Europe" has, we hear, had a curious and satisfactory sequel. +Large numbers of adepts in the art of pig-sticking are joining the +Sportsman's Battalion, which is now in process of formation. + + * * * * * + +A regrettable mistake is reported from South London. A thoroughly +patriotic man was sat upon by a Cockney crowd for declaring that the +Kaiser was a Nero. + + * * * * * + +The Germans have had a bright, new idea, and are calling us a nation of +shop-keepers. Certainly we have been fairly successful so far in +repelling their counter-attacks. + + +THE K.A. BOYS +[Sidenote: _Jessie Pope in the "Daily Mail"_] + + _Dr-rud--dr-rud--dr-rud--dr-rud--_ + Kitchener's Army on the march + Through Marylebone and Marble Arch, + Men in motley, so to speak, + Been in training about a week, + Swinging easy, toe and heel, + Game and gay, and keen as steel. + + _Dr-rud--dr-rud--dr-rud--dr-rud--_ + Norfolk jackets, city suits, + Some in shoes and some in boots; + Clerk and sportsman, tough and nut, + Reach-me-downs, and Bond-street cut; + Typical kit of every kind, + To show the life they've left behind. + + _Dr-rud--dr-rud--dr-rud--dr-rud--_ + Marching by at an easy pace, + The great adventure in every face, + Raw if you like, but full of grit, + Snatching the chance to do their bit. + Oh, I want to cheer and I want to cry + When Kitchener's Boys go marching by. + + +A SCOTSWOMAN IN FRANCE +[Sidenote: _From the "Times," Sept. 24, 1914_] + +A valued contributor writes: "Would you like this new Scotch reel, +inspired by the pipes of the bonny Highlanders, who for a week made a +little Scotland of Melun? On Wednesday, the 2nd, I was in the town and +saw the good women rush from the streets into their houses, crying in +dreadful voices, 'Les Allemands!' And there, by the old church, round +the corner, came the Highlanders! I stood still on the pavement and sang +'Scots wha hae' at the top of my old cracked voice, and they, +appreciating the welcome, and excusing the minstrelsy, waved their hands +to me. The Staff was here, the Flying Corps, three regiments, English +and Scottish--such brave, bright, orderly, kind young men. On September +6 the cannon sounded very near. I went into the street and said to a +demure, douce young Highlander, 'Do ye think the Germans are coming?' +And he replied, 'I'fe been hearing, Matam, that the Chermans will hafe +been hafing a pit of a set-pack.' It was in this modest manner that I +heard of the victory of the Marne." + + +A NEW SCOTCH REEL +[Sidenote: _From the "Times" Sept. 24, 1914_] + + Dance, since ye're dancing, William, + Dance up and doon, + Set to your partners, William, + We'll play the tune! + See, make a bow to Paris, + Here's Antwerp-toon; + Off to the Gulf of Riga, + Back to Verdun-- + Ay, but I'm thinking, laddie, + Ye'll use your shoon! + + Dance, since ye're dancing, William, + Dance up and doon, + Set to your partners, William, + We'll play the tune! + What! Wad ye stop the pipers? + Nay, 'tis ower-soon! + Dance, since ye're dancing, William, + Dance, ye puir loon! + Dance till ye're dizzy, William, + Dance till ye swoon! + Dance till ye're dead, my laddie! + We play the tune! + + +DESPATCHES +[Sidenote: _"Touchstone" in the "Daily Mail"_] + + Swift as a bullet out of a gun + He passed me by with an inch to spare, + Raising a dust-cloud thick and dun + While the stench of lubricant filled the air. + I must admit that I did not like + The undergrad on his motor-bike. + + I have seen him, too, at the wayside inn, + A strapping lad scarce out of his teens, + Grimy, but wearing a cheerful grin; + A young enthusiast, full of beans, + While his conversation was little better + Than pure magneto and carburetter. + + Now he has got the chance of his life, + The chance of earning glorious scars, + And I picture him scouring a land of strife, + Crouching over his handle-bars, + His open exhaust, with its roar and stench, + Like a Maxim gun in a British trench. + + Lad, when we met in that country lane + Neither foresaw the days to come, + But I know that if ever we meet again + My heart will throb to your engine's hum, + And to-day, as I read, I catch my breath + At the thought of your ride through the hail of death! + + But to you it is just a glorious lark; + Scorn of danger is still your creed. + As you open her out and advance your spark + And humour the throttle to get more speed, + Life has only one end for you, + To carry your priceless message through! + + +BURGOMASTER MAX +[Sidenote: _H.B._] + + Our children will sing with delight for all time + Of the Briton, the French, and the Russian, + But most of the man who with humour sublime + Pulled the goose-stepping leg of the Prussian. + + +NEWS FROM THE FRONT +[Sidenote: _C.E.B. in the "Evening News"_] + + This so-remarkable letter on-a-battlefield-up-picked the real + feeling of the British private soldier demonstrates. Its publication + by the Berlin Official News Bureau is authorised. The words + parenthesised are of some obscurity, but apparently are exclamations + of a disgustful kind. + + Our sojers they was weepin' + The night we went away + For some one whispered we was off + The Germans for to slay. + To shoot them cultured Bosches + Would make a Briton shrink + And so our 'earts was sad to go + (I _don't_ think). + + An' when we met them blighters + Of course we turned and ran, + An' Tubby French 'e shouted out + "All save theirselves as can"; + An' when the big Jack Johnsons banged + We didn't cheer and larf + An' pump the Bosches full o' lead + (No, not 'arf). + + An' w'en our foes retreated + We knowed we couldn't win + For they was out, that artful like, + To lure us to Berlin. + But touch that 'ome of culture? + We'd rather far be shot; + We simply worship Kaiser Bill + (P'raps, p'raps not). + + +FALL IN! +[Sidenote: _H.B._] + + What will you lack, sonny, what will you lack + When the girls line up the street, + Shouting their love to the lads come back + From the foe they rushed to beat? + Will you send a strangled cheer to the sky + And grin till your cheeks are red? + But what will you lack when your mates go by + With a girl who cuts you dead? + + Where will you look, sonny, where will you look + When your children yet to be + Clamour to learn of the part you took + In the War that kept men free? + Will you say it was naught to you if France + Stood up to her foe or bunked? + But where will you look when they give the glance + That tells you they know you funked? + + How will you fare, sonny, how will you fare + In the far-off winter night, + When you sit by the fire in an old man's chair + And your neighbours talk of the fight? + Will you slink away, as it were from a blow, + Your old head shamed and bent? + Or say--I was not with the first to go, + But I went, thank God, I went! + + Why do they call, sonny, why do they call + For men who are brave and strong? + Is it naught to you if your country fall, + And Right is smashed by Wrong? + Is it football still and the picture show, + The pub and the betting odds, + When your brothers stand to the tyrant's blow + And England's call is God's? + + +DIES IRAE +[Sidenote: _Owen Seaman in "Punch"_] + +To the German Kaiser + + Amazing Monarch! who at various times, + Posing as Europe's self-appointed saviour, + Afforded copy for our ribald rhymes + By your behaviour; + + We nursed no malice; nay, we thanked you much, + Because your head-piece, swollen like a tumour, + Lent to a dullish world the needed touch + Of saving humour. + + What with your wardrobes stuffed with warrior gear, + Your gander-step parades, your prancing Prussians, + Your menaces that shocked the deafened sphere + With rude concussions; + + Your fist that turned the pinkest rivals pale + Alike with sceptre, chisel, pen or palette, + And could at any moment, gloved in mail, + Smite like a mallet; + + Master of all the Arts, and, what was more, + Lord of the limelight-blaze that let us know it-- + You seemed a gift designed on purpose for + The flippant poet. + + Time passed and put to these old jests an end; + Into our open hearts you found admission, + Ate of our bread and pledged us like a friend + Above suspicion. + + You shared our griefs with seeming-gentle eyes; + You moved among us, cousinly entreated, + Still hiding, under that fair outward guise, + A heart that cheated. + + And now the mask is down, and forth you stand + Known for a King whose word is no great matter, + A traitor proved, for every honest hand + To strike and shatter. + + This was the "Day" foretold by yours and you + In whispers here, and there with beery clamours-- + You and your rat-hole spies and blustering crew + Of loud Potsdamers. + + And lo, there dawns another, swift and stern, + When on the wheels of wrath, by Justice' token + Breaker of God's own Peace, you shall in turn + Yourself be broken. + + +FOR THE RED CROSS +[Sidenote: _Owen Seaman in "Punch"_] + + Ye that have gentle hearts and fain + To succour men in need, + There is no voice could ask in vain + With such a cause to plead-- + The cause of those that in your care, + Who know the debt to honour due, + Confide the wounds they proudly wear, + The wounds they took for you. + + Out of the shock of shattering spears, + Of screaming shell and shard, + Snatched from the smoke that blinds and sears + They come with bodies scarred, + And count the hours that idly toll, + Restless until their hurts be healed, + And they may fare, made strong and whole, + To face another field. + + And yonder where the battle's waves + Broke yesterday o'erhead, + Where now the swift and shallow graves + Cover our English dead, + Think how your sisters play their part, + Who serve as in a holy shrine, + Tender of hand and brave of heart, + Under the Red Cross sign. + + Ah, by that symbol, worshipped still, + Of life-blood sacrificed, + That lonely Cross on Calvary's hill + Red with the wounds of Christ; + By that free gift to none denied, + Let Pity pierce you like a sword, + And Love go out to open wide + The gate of life restored. + + The Red Cross Society is in need of help. Gifts should be addressed + to Lord Rothschild at Devonshire House, Piccadilly. + + + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: "Dooiney-molla--man-praiser--the friend who backs the +suitor."] + +[Footnote 2: Certain publishers.] + +[Footnote 3: Port of Peace.] + +[Footnote 4: Solace.] + +[Footnote 5: She was born at Chatham on March 28th, 1774.] + +[Footnote 6: Probably he was nearly twenty-four.] + +[Footnote 7: Written in 1829.] + +[Footnote 8: "The Epicure!" said R.L.S.] + +[Footnote 9: A musical festival which took place in Westminster Abbey.] + +[Footnote 10: "To pill" was a cant expression used a good deal by "the +set," meaning, apparently, to talk, either pompously or trivially.] + +[Footnote 11: The cloud-shapes often observed by travellers in the +East.] + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Bed-Book of Happiness, by Harold Begbie + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BED-BOOK OF HAPPINESS *** + +***** This file should be named 13457.txt or 13457.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/3/4/5/13457/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Gene Smethers and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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