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diff --git a/75344-h/75344-h.htm b/75344-h/75344-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..21947e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/75344-h/75344-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,3672 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Household Words, No. 306, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1856 | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } +hr.full {width: 95%; margin-left: 2.5%; margin-right: 2.5%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +/* poetry number */ + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} + +/* Footnotes */ +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3em;} +.poetry .indent2 {text-indent: -2em;} + +/* Added by Ed: */ +.text-right { + float: right; + text-align: right; +} +.text-center { + text-align: center; +} +.text-left { + float: left; + text-align: left; +} +.pre-heading { + text-align: center; + font-size: 150%; +} +.head-box { + border-style: double; +} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75344 ***</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> + + + + +<div class="pre-heading"> +“<i>Familiar in their Mouths as HOUSEHOLD WORDS.</i>”—<span class="smcap">Shakespeare.</span> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<h1>HOUSEHOLD WORDS.</h1> +<p class="center">A WEEKLY JOURNAL.</p> +<p class="center"><b>CONDUCTED BY CHARLES DICKENS.</b></p> + + +<div class="head-box"> +<p class="text-center"> +<span>SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1856.</span> +<span class="text-left">N<sup>o.</sup> 306.]</span> +<span class="text-right"> +<span class="smcap">Price</span> 2<i>d.</i> +<span class="smcap">Stamped</span> 3<i>d.</i> +</span> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TABLE_OF_CONTENTS">TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#BEEF">BEEF.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#ADVENTURES_OF_A_RUSSIAN">ADVENTURES OF A RUSSIAN SOLDIER.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#PNCC">P.N.C.C.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#LAVATERS_WARNING">LAVATER’S WARNING.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#THE_FRIEND_OF_THE_LIONS">THE FRIEND OF THE LIONS.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#THE_MANCHESTER_STRIKE">THE MANCHESTER STRIKE.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#THE_HALL_OF_WINES">THE HALL OF WINES.</a></div> +<div class="verse indent0"><a href="#THREE_WIVES">THREE WIVES.</a></div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="BEEF">BEEF.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>If I have a mission upon this earth, (apart +from the patent and notable one of being +a frightful example to the rising generation +of blighted existence and misused energies)—that +mission is, I believe, beef. I +am a Cœlebs, not in search of a wife, as in +Mrs. Hannah More’s white-neck-clothed +novel, but in search of beef. I have travelled +far and wide to find it—good, tender, nourishing, +juicy, succulent; and when I die, I hope +that it will be inscribed on my tombstone: +“Here lies one who sought for beef. Tread +lightly on his grave: quia multum amavit.”</p> + +<p>Next to the Habeas Corpus and the Freedom +of the Press, there are few things that the +English people have a greater respect for +and a livelier faith in than beef. They +bear, year after year, with the same interminable +unvarying series of woodcuts of +fat oxen in the columns of the illustrated +newspapers; they are never tired of +crowding to the Smithfield Club cattle-show; +and I am inclined to think that it is their +honest reverence for beef that has induced +them to support so long the obstruction and +endangerment of the thoroughfares of the +metropolis, by oxen driven to slaughter. +Beef is a great connecting link and bond of +better feeling between the great classes of +the commonwealth. Do not dukes hob and +nob with top-booted farmers over the respective +merits of short-horns and Alderneys? +Does not the noble Marquis of Argentfork +give an ox to be roasted whole on the village +green when his son, the noble Viscount +Silvercorrel, comes of age? Beef makes boys. +Beef nerves our navvies. The bowmen who +won Cressy and Agincourt were beef-fed, and +had there been more and better beef in the +Crimea a year ago, our soldiers would have +borne up better under the horrors of a Chersonesean +winter. We feast on beef at the +great Christian festival. A baron of beef at +the same time is enthroned in St. George’s +Hall, in Windsor’s ancient castle, and is +borne in by lacqueys in scarlet and gold. +Charles the Second knighted a loin of beef; +and I have a shrewd suspicion that the +famous Sir Bevis of Southampton was but an +ardent admirer, and doughty knight-errant in +the cause of beef. And who does not know +the tradition that even as the first words of +the new-born Gargantua were “A boyre, à +boyre,” signifying that he desired a draught +of Burgundy wine—so the first intelligible +sounds that the infant Guy of Warwick ever +spake were, “Beef, beef!”</p> + +<p>When the weary pilgrim reaches the beloved +shores of England after a long absence, +what first does he remark—after the incivility +of the custom-house officers—but the great +tankard of stout and the noble round of cold +beef in the coffee-room of the hotel? He does +not cry “Io Bacche! Evöe Bacche!” because +beef is not Bacchus. He does not fall down +and kiss his native soil, because the hotel +carpet is somewhat dusty, and the action +would be, besides, egregious; but he looks +at the beef, and his eyes filling with tears, +a corresponding humidity takes place in his +mouth; he kisses the beef; he is so fond +of it that he could eat it all up; and he +does ordinarily devour so much of it to +his breakfast, that the thoughtful waiter +gazes at him, and murmurs to his napkin, +“This man is either a cannibal or a pilgrim +grey who has not seen Albion for many +years.”</p> + +<p>By beef I mean, emphatically, the legitimate, +unsophisticated article. Give me my beef, +hot or cold, roast, boiled, or broiled; but away +with your beef-kickshaws, your beef-stews, +your beef-haricoes, your corned beef, your +hung beef, and your spiced beef! I don’t think +there is anything so contemptible, fraudulent, +adulterine in the whole world (of +cookery) as a beef sausage. I have heard +that it is a favourite dish with pickpockets +at their raffle-suppers. I believe it. +There was a boy at school with me in the +byegone—a day-boy—who used to bring a +clammy brownish powder, in a sandwich-box, +with him for lunch. He called it powdered +beef; and he ate this mahogany, sawdust-looking +mixture between slices of stale bread +and butter. He was an ill-conditioned boy +who had begun the world in the face-grinding +sense much too early. He lent halfpence at +usury, and dealt in sock (which was our slang +for surreptitious sweet-stuff); and I remember +with what savage pleasure I fell upon and +beat him in the course of a commercial +transaction involving a four-bladed penknife +he had sold me, and which wouldn’t cut—no,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> +not even slate-pencil. But the penknife was +nothing more than a pretext: I beat him +for his beef. He had the ring-worm, and +it was bruited about afterwards that he was +of Jewish parentage. I believe, when he +began life, he turned out but badly.</p> + +<p>I am reminded, however, that the subject +of beef, as a British institution, has already +been treated at some length in this journal.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> +I have merely ventured a few remarks on the +bovine topic generally, to preface the experiences +I have to record of some recent +travels in search of beef I have made in the +capital of France. One might employ oneself +better, perhaps, than in transcribing the +results of a week’s hankering after the flesh-pots +of Egypt; and surely the journey in +search of bread is long and wearisome enough +that we might take beef as it comes, and +thankfully. But, as I have said, beef is my +mission. I am a collector of bovine experiences, +as some men collect editions of Virgil, +and some Raffaelle’s virgins, and some broadsides, +and some butterflies. And I know +that there are moralities to be found in beef +as well as in the starry heavens and the +vestiges of creation.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> See Volume x. page 113.</p> + +</div> + +<p>Let me first sum up all the knowledge I +have acquired on the subject, by stating my +firm conviction that there is no beef in Paris,—I +mean, no beef fit to be eaten by a philobosopher. +Some say that the French cut their +meat the wrong way; that they don’t hang +it properly; that they don’t hang it enough; +that they beat it; that they overcook it. +But I have tasted infinite varieties of French +beef; of the first, second, and third categories. +I have had it burnt to a cinder, and I have +had it very nearly raw. I have eaten it in +private English families resident in Paris, +and dressed by English cooks. It is a delusion: +there is no beef in Lutetia.</p> + +<p>The first beef I tried in my last campaign +was the evening I dined at His Lorship’s. +Don’t be alarmed, my democratic friend. I +am not upon Lord Cowley’s visiting list, nor +are any coronetted cards ever left at my door +on the sixth storey. I did not receive a card +from the British Embassy on the occasion of +the last ball at the Hôtel de Ville; and I +am ashamed to confess that, so anxious was I +to partake of the hospitality of the Prefect of +the Seine (the toilettes and the iced punch +are perfect at his balls), that I was mean +enough to foreswear temporarily my nationality +and to avail myself of the card of Colonel +Waterton Privilege of Harshellopolis, Mass.:—said +colonel being at that time, and in all +probability exceedingly sick, in his stateroom +of the United States steamer Forked +Lightning, in the middle of the Atlantic +ocean. But, by His Lorship’s I mean an +Anglo-French restaurant—named after a +defunct English city eating-house—situate +near the Place de la Concorde, and where +I heard that real English roast beef was +to be obtained at all hours in first-rate condition.</p> + + +<p>Now, there is one thing that I do not +like abroad; yea, two that are utterly distasteful +to me. The one thing is my countrymen’s +hotels and restaurants. These houses +of refection I have usually found exceedingly +uncomfortable. So I was disposed to look +somewhat coldly upon His Lordship’s invitation, +as printed upon placards, and stencilled +on the walls, till I was assured that his beef +was really genuine, and that he was an +Englishman without guile.</p> + +<p>His Lordship’s mansion I found unpretending, +even to obscurity. There was no porte-cochère, +no courtyard, no gilt railings, nor +green verandahs. His Lordship’s hotel was, +in fact, only a little slice of a shop, with one +dining-room over it; for which I was told +he paid an enormous rent—some thousands +of francs a-year. In his window were displayed +certain English viands pleasant to the +sight: a mighty beef-steak pie just cut; the +kidney end of a loin of veal, with real English +stuffing, palpable to sight; some sausages +that might have been pork, and of Epping; +some potatoes in their homely brown jackets, +just out at elbows, as your well-done potatoes +should be, with their flannel under-garments +peeping through; and a spherical mass, something +of the size and shape of a bombshell, +dark in colour, speckled black and +white, and that my beating heart told +me was a plum-pudding. A prodigious +Cheshire cheese, rugged as Helvellyn, craggy +as Criffell, filled up the background like a +range of yellow mountains. At the base +there were dark forests of bottles branded +with the names of Allsopp, and Bass, and +Guinness, and there were cheering announcements +framed and glazed, respecting Pale +Ale on draught, L.L. whisky, and Genuine +Old Tom.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> I rubbed my hands in glee. +“Ha! ha!” I said internally. “Nothing +like our British aristocracy, after all. The +true stock, sir! May His Lordship’s shadow +never diminish.”</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a> Our gallant allies have yet much to learn about our +English manners and customs. Only the other night, in +the Foyer of the Grand Opera, I saw (and you may see it +there still if you are incredulous) a tastefully enamelled +placard, announcing that “genuine Old Tom” was to +be had at the Buffet. Imagine Sir Harcourt Courtley +asking the Countess of Swansdown, in the crush-room of +Covent Garden Theatre, if she would take half a quartern +of gin!</p> + +</div> + +<p>His Lordship’s down-stairs’ apartment was +somewhat inconveniently crowded with English +grooms and French palefreniers, and +with an incorrigible old Frenchman, with a +pipe as strong as Samson, a cap, cotton in +his ears, and rings in the lobes thereof, who +had learnt nothing of English but the oaths, +and was cursing some very suspicious-looking +meat (not my beef, I hope) most energetically. +I have an opinion that stables and +the perfume thereof are pretty nearly analogous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> +the whole world over; so, at the invitation +of a parboiled-looking man in a shooting-jacket +and a passion (who might have +been His Lordship himself for aught I +knew), I went up-stairs. There was an +outer chamber, with benches covered with +red cotton velvet, and cracked marble tables, +like an indifferent café; where some bearded +men were making a horrible rattle with their +dominoes, and smoking their abominable +cigars (surely a course of French cigars is +enough to cure the most inveterate smoker +of his love for the weed). This somewhat +discomposed me; but I was fain to push +forward into the next saloon where the tables +were laid out for dining; and taking my seat, +to wait for beef.</p> + +<p>There was myself and a black man, and his +(white) wife, the Frenchman with the spectacles, +and the Frenchman with the bald head +(I speak of them generically, for you are sure +to meet their fellows at every public dining-table +abroad), the poor old Frenchman with +<a id="Change07"></a><ins title="Original has 'the wig the paralytic head'"> +the wig, the paralytic head</ins> and the shaking +hands that trifle with the knives and forks, +as though they were red-hot. There were +half-a-dozen other sons of Gaul; who, with +their beards, cache-nezs, and paletôts, all +made to pattern, might have been one +another’s brothers; two ancient maiden +ladies, who looked like English governesses, +who had passed, probably, some five-and-thirty +years in Paris, and had begun to speak +a little of the language; a rude young Englishman, +who took care to make all the company +aware of the coarseness of his birthplace; +an English working engineer, long resident +abroad, much travel-worn, and decidedly oily, +who had a voice like a crank, and might have +been the identical engineer that Mr. Albert +Smith met on the Austrian Lloyd’s steamer; +and a large-headed little boy, with a round English +jacket, who sat alone, eating mournfully, +and whom I could not help fancying to be +some little friendless scholar in a great French +school, whose jour de sortie it was, and who +had come here to play at an English dinner. +The days be short to thee, little boy with the +large head! May they fly quickly till the +welcome holidays, when thou wilt be forwarded, +per rail and boat, to the London +Bridge station of the South Eastern Railway, +to be left till called for. I know from sad experience +how very weary are the strange land +and the strange bed, the strange lessons and +the strange playmates, to thy small English +heart!</p> + +<p>A gaunt, ossified waiter, with blue black +hair, jaws so closely shaven that they gave +him an unpleasant resemblance to the grand +inquisitor of the holy office in disguise seeking +for heretics in a cook-shop, and who +was, besides, in a perpetual cold perspiration +of anger against the irate man in the shooting +jacket below, and carried on fierce verbal +warfare with him down the staircase. This +waiter rose up against me, rather than +addressed me, and charged me with a pike +of bread, cutting my ordinarily immense +slice from it. I mildly suggested roast +beef, wincing, it must be owned, under the +eye of the cadaverous waiter; who looked as +if he were accustomed to duplicity, and +did not believe a word that I was saying.</p> + +<p>“Ah! rosbif!” he echoed, “bien saignant +n’est ce pas?”</p> + +<p>Now, so far from liking my meat “bien +saignant” I cannot even abide the sight of +it rare, and I told him so. But he repeated +“bien saignant,” and vanished.</p> + +<p>He came again, though; or rather his +Jesuitical head protruded itself over the top +of the box where I sat (there were boxes at +His Lordship’s) and asked:</p> + +<p>“Paint portare? p’lale? ole’ ale?”</p> + +<p>I was nettled, and told him sharply that +I would try the wine, if he could recommend +it. Whereupon there was silence, and then +I heard a voice crying down a pipe, “Paint +portare!”</p> + +<p>He brought me my dinner, and I didn’t like +it. It was bien saignant, but it wasn’t beef, and +it swam in a dead sea of gravy that was +not to my taste; fat from strange animals +seemed to have been grafted on to the lean. I +did not get on better with the potatoes, which +were full of promise, like a park hack, and +unsatisfactory in the performance. I tried +some plum-pudding afterwards; but, if the +proof of the pudding be in the eating, that +pudding remains unproved to this day; for, +when I tried to fix my fork in it, it rebounded +away across the room, and hit the +black man on the leg. I would rather not +say anything about the porter, if you please; +and perhaps it is well to be brief on the subject +of the glass of hot gin-and-water I tried +afterwards, in a despairing attempt to be +convivial; for it smelt of the midnight-lamp +like an erudite book, and of the midnight oilcan, +and had the flavour of the commercial +terebinthium, rather than of the odoriferous +Juniperus. I consoled myself with some +Cheshire cheese, and asked the waiter if he +had the Presse.</p> + +<p>“Ze Time is gage,” he answered.</p> + +<p>I did not want the Times. I wanted the +Presse.</p> + +<p>“Sare,” he repeated wrathfully, “Ze Time +is gage. Le Journal Anglais (he accentuated +this spitefully) is gage.”</p> + +<p>He would have no further commerce with +me after this; and, doubtlessly thinking that +an Englishman who couldn’t eat his beef under-done +or indeed at all, and preferred the +Presse to the Times newspaper, was an outcast +and a renegade, abandoned me to my +evil devices, and contented himself with crying +“Voila!” from the murky distance +without coming when I called. He even +declined to attend to receive payment, and +handed me over for that purpose to a long +French boy in a blouse, whose feet had evidently +not long been emancipated from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> +pastoral sabots, whose hair was cropped close +to his head (in the manner suggesting county +gaol at home, and ignorance of small toothcombs +abroad), and who had quite a flux of +French words, and tried to persuade me to +eat civet de lièvre that was to be served up +at half-past seven of the clock.</p> + +<p>But I would have borne half a hundred +disappointments similar to this dinner for the +sake of the black man. Legs and feet! he +was a character! He sat opposite to me, +calm, contented, magnificent, proud. He was +as black as my boot, and as shiny. His +woolly head, crisped by our bounteous mother +Nature, had unmistakeably received a recent +touch of the barber’s tongs. He was perfumed; +he was oiled; he had moustaches (as +I live!) twisted out into long rats’-tails by +means of pommade Hongroise. He had a +tip. He had a scarlet Turkish cap with a +long blue tassel. He had military stripes +down his pantaloons. He had patent leather +boots. He had shirt-studs of large circumference, +pins, gold waistcoat-buttons, and a +gorgeous watch-chain. I believe he had a +crimson under-waistcoat. He had the whitest +of cambric handkerchiefs, a ring on his forefinger, +and a stick with an overpowering gold +knob. He was the wonderfullest nigger that +the eye ever beheld.</p> + +<p>He had a pretty little English wife—it is a +fact, madam—with long auburn ringlets, who +it was plain to see was desperately in love +with, and desperately afraid of, him. It was +marvellous to behold the rapt, fond gaze with +which she contemplated him as he leaned +back in his chair after dinner, and refreshed +his glistening ivories with a toothpick. +Equally marvellous was the condescension +with which he permitted her to eat her dinner +in his august presence, and suffered her to tie +round his neck a great emblazoned shawl like +a flag.</p> + +<p>Who could he have been? The father +of the African twins; the Black Malibran’s +brother; Baron Pompey; Prince Mousalakatzic +of the Orange River; Prince Bobo; +some other sable dignitary of the empire +of Hayti; or the renowned Soulouque himself, +incognito? Yet, though affable to his +spouse, he was a fierce man to the waiter. +The old blood of Ashantee, the ancient lineage +of Dahomey, could ill brook the shortcomings +of that cadaverous servitor. There was +an item in the reckoning that displeased +him.</p> + +<p>“Wass this sa?” he cried, in a terrible +voice; “wass this, sa? Fesh your mas’r, sa!”</p> + +<p>The waiter cringed and fled, and I laughed.</p> + +<p>“Good luck have thou with thine honour: +ride on ——” honest black man; but oh, +human nature, human nature! I would +not be your nigger for many dollars. More +rib-roasting should I receive, I am afraid, +than ever Uncle Tom suffered from fierce +Legree.</p> + +<p>I have not dined at His Lordship’s since—I +would dine there any day to be sure of the +company of the black man—but I have more +to say about Beef.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="ADVENTURES_OF_A_RUSSIAN">ADVENTURES OF A RUSSIAN +SOLDIER.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>I was inscribed as a sergeant of the +Séménofski guards at a very early age. I +was entrusted to the care of one of my +father’s serfs, named Savéliitch. He taught +me to read and write, and was very indignant +when he learned that a Frenchman was to be +conveyed back to the estate with the annual +provision of wine and oil from Moscow. +“Nobody can say that the child has not been +well fed, well combed, and well washed,” +murmured old Savéliitch; “why then spend +money on a Frenchman, while there are plenty +of native servants in the house!”</p> + +<p>M. Beaupré came and engaged himself to +teach me French, German, and all the +sciences; but he made me teach him my +native language, and taught me many things +that did me little good. He was fond of brandy, +and was, as I was told, too ardent an admirer +of ladies. I remember only that one day, when +my respected tutor was lying upon his bed in +a hopeless state of drunkenness, and I was +cutting up a map of Moscow for a kite, my +father entered the room, boxed my ears, and +turned moussié out of the house, to the great +joy of Savéliitch, and to my sorrow. My +education being thus brought to a sudden +close, I amused myself until I had completed +my sixteenth year, in playing at leap-frog, and +watching my mother make her exquisite +preparations of honey, when one day my +father said to my mother:</p> + +<p>“Avdotia Vassiliéva, what age is Pétroucha?”</p> + +<p>“He has just entered his seventeenth year. +Pétroucha was born the same year that +Nastasia Garasimova lost her eye, and—”</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” my father replied, “he starts +for his regiment to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>My mother burst into tears, and I jumped +for joy.</p> + +<p>“Don’t forget, André Pétrovitch,” said my +mother to my father, who was writing my +letter of introduction, “to remember me to +Prince B——, and to bid him show every +kindness to Pétroucha.”</p> + +<p>“Pétroucha is not going to St. Petersburg,” +my father replied. I was heart-broken. +I had dreamed of nothing but St. Petersburg. +When my father had finished the letter, he +turned to me and said:</p> + +<p>“This letter is addressed to André Karlovitch, +my old companion in arms. He is +at Orenberg, and you will join him there.” +The kibitka was at the door. The servants +had stowed away in it a tea-service, and pies +of different sorts tied up in cloths. My +parents gave me their blessing. My father +said to me, “Good bye, Pierre; serve your +Empress with fidelity; obey your superiors, +don’t seek favours from them; and remember<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> +the proverb, ‘Take care of your coat while +it is new, and of your honour while it is +white.’” A hare-skin touloup, or cape, was +thrown about me, and over it a fox-skin cloak. +Thus equipped, I took my seat in the kibitka, +and left my parents, accompanied by Savéliitch.</p> + +<p>We arrived that night at Simbirsk, where +I committed my first folly by losing one +hundred roubles at billiards, while Savéliitch +was out, executing some orders from home +with which he had been entrusted. I lost +this sum to Ivan Lowrine, a captain of +hussars. On this occasion I also became intoxicated +for the first time. Savéliitch hastened +my departure the following morning, +and reluctantly paid my losses. I promised +him that, henceforth, I would not spend a +single kopek without his consent.</p> + +<p>We travelled rapidly; and, as we approached +our destination, the country became a +measureless waste, covered with snow. Presently, +the coachman, taking off his hat, +asked me anxiously whether we should not +return; and, pointing to a white cloud far +in the east, said, “That is the bourane!”</p> + +<p>I had heard of the bourane, and I knew +that it sometimes buried whole caravans of +travellers. I knew it to be a tremendous +cloud of snow, out of which few people, once +fairly in it, ever made their way. But this +one seemed to me to be a long way off, so +I told the coachman to drive forward. We +went at full gallop. The wind rose rapidly, +however; the little white cloud became a +huge moving snow mountain; very fine +flakes began to fall about us; then the wind +howled, and in a few minutes we could not +see an inch beyond our noses. It was, in +truth, the bourane. The horses stopped; +the snow began to bury us; Savéliitch began +to scold; the coachman played nervously +with the horses’ harness—and no house could +be seen. We had begun to believe we +should be soon buried alive, when we suddenly +perceived a black object near us, which +we were afraid was a wolf, but which turned +out to be a man. We asked our way; he +replied that he knew the country under +ordinary circumstances, but could not distinguish +anything then. Suddenly he cried, +“Turn to the left—there you will find a +house: I smell the smoke.”</p> + +<p>The coachman managed to whip the horses +into unusual exertion, and we presently +reached a hut lighted by a loutchina (a deal +stick which serves for a candle). The ornaments +of the little room into which we were +ushered were a carbine and a Cossack hat. +The Cossack host got us some tea; and then +I inquired for a guide. Some one called out +from a recess that he was cold, for he had +pawned his touloup the day before, for +brandy. I offered him a cup of tea, and he +advanced to drink it. He was a remarkable +fellow in appearance: tall, with very broad +shoulders. He wore a black beard, and short +hair; his eyes were restless and large; the +expression of his face was, at times agreeable, +at times malicious. He preferred brandy to +tea; and, having held a mysterious conversation +with the host, he retired for the night. +I did not like the look of affairs; the hut was +in the middle of the steppe—very lonely, and +very like the meeting-place for thieves.</p> + +<p>But we were not robbed; and, the following +morning, as we left to proceed on our journey, +I gave my hare-skin touloup, much against +my servant’s wish, to the guide who had led +us to the house. The guide was grateful, +and promised that if ever he could be of +service to me I should be served. At that +time the promise seemed sufficiently ridiculous.</p> + +<p>We arrived without further adventure at +Orenberg, where I presented my letter to the +general, who received me kindly, and then +sent me to serve, under the orders of Captain +Mirinoff, in the fort of Bélogorsk. This did +not please me. The fort was a wretched little +village, surrounded by palisades. I stopped +before a little wooden house, which, I was informed, +was the commandant’s. I entered. In +the antechamber I found an old man, seated +upon a table, occupied in sewing a blue patch +upon one of the elbows of a green uniform. +He beckoned me into the inner chamber. It +was a clean little room, with an officer’s commission, +neatly framed, hanging against the +wall, and rude prints surrounding it. In one +corner of the room an old lady, with a handkerchief +bound round her head, was unwinding +some thread from the hands of a +little old man with only one eye, who wore +an officer’s uniform. The old lady, on seeing +me, said:</p> + +<p>“Ivan Kourmitch is not at home; but I +am his wife. Be good enough to love us, and +take a seat, my little father.”</p> + +<p>I obeyed, and the old lady sent for her +subaltern, the ouriadnik. While the servant +was gone, the lady and the officer both +questioned me, and judged that it was for +some offence that I was sent to Bélogorsk. +The lady informed me that Chvabrine, an +officer at Bélogorsk, had been sent thither for +duelling. The ouriadnik appeared, and was +a fine specimen of a Cossack officer.</p> + +<p>“Quarter Piote Andréïtch,” said the old +lady, “upon Siméon Kouroff. The fellow +let his horse break into my garden.”</p> + +<p>These, my quarters, looked out upon the +dreary steppe. The next morning a little fellow, +with a remarkably vivacious appearance, came +to see me. I found that he was Chvabrine, the +duellist. His lively conversation amused me, +and we went together that day to the commandant’s +house to dinner. As we approached +it I saw about twenty little old invalids, wearing +long tails, and three-cornered hats, ranged +in order of battle. The commandant, a tall, +hale old man, dressed in a cotton nightcap +and a morning gown, was reviewing this +terrible force. He spoke some civil words to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> +me, and we left him to complete his military +duties. When we arrived at his house, we +found the old one-eyed man and Palachka laying +the cloth. Presently, the captain’s daughter, +Marie, made her appearance. Chvabrine had +described her to me as a very foolish person. +She was about sixteen years of age, had a +fine fresh colour, and was very bashful.</p> + +<p>I did not think much of her that day. She +blushed terribly when her mother declared +that all she could bring her husband in the +way of wealth was a comb and a few kopeks. +We talked chiefly of the possibility of standing +a siege from the Bachkirs; and the +commandant declared that if such a siege +occurred he would teach the enemy a terrible +lesson. I thought of the twenty invalids, and +did not feel quite so confident on the subject.</p> + +<p>Ivan Kourmitch and his wife Vassilissa +were very kind to me, and received me as +one of the family. I liked the little one-eyed +officer; I became more intimate with Marie.</p> + +<p>Father Garasim and his wife Akoulina I was +also glad to meet, almost daily, at the commandant’s +house. But I soon disliked Chvabrine. +He talked lightly and slightingly of +Marie, and even of Vassilissa. One day, +however, I read to him some amorous verses +I had written; he saw at once, and truly, +that they were addressed to Marie. He +ridiculed them mercilessly, and told me that +if I wished to win the love of Marie I had +only to give her a pair of ear-rings. I flew +into a passion, and asked him how he dared +to take away the character of the commandant’s +daughter. He replied, impertinently, +that he spoke of her from personal +experience. I told him to his teeth that he +lied. He demanded satisfaction.</p> + +<p>I went to the one-eyed officer—whom I +found threading mushrooms for Vassilissa—to +ask him to act as second. But he declined. +In the evening I was at the commandant’s +house; and thinking that night +that it might be my last, as my duel with +Chvabrine was to be early on the morrow, +Marie appeared dearer to me than ever. +Chvabrine came, and behaved so insolently +that I could hardly wait until the morrow.</p> + +<p>I was to my time, the next morning, +behind a haystack; Chvabrine was also +punctual. We had just stripped our coats off, +when the one-eyed officer appeared with five +invalids, and marched us off in custody.</p> + +<p>Vassilissa ordered us to give up our +swords, and told Palachka to take them up +into the loft; for, in truth, Vassilissa was +the commandant of Bélogorsk. She then +ordered Ivan Kourmitch to put us in opposite +corners of the rooms, and to feed us on bread +and water until we repented. Marie was very +pale. After a stormy discussion, however, +our swords were restored to us, and I parted +with my adversary: feigning reconcilement, +but secretly agreeing to meet again when the +affair had quite blown over. The next night +I had an opportunity of talking alone with +Marie Ivanovna; and I learned from her—how +she blushed as she told me!—that +Chvabrine had proposed marriage to her, but +that she had refused him. This information +explained to me the fellow’s measured scandal. +I burned to meet him again.</p> + +<p>I had not to wait long. The next day, as +I was biting my pen, thinking of a rhyme in +an elegy I was composing, the very fellow +tapped at my window. I understood him; +seized my sword; engaged with him; and fell +presently—wounded in the shoulder, and insensible.</p> + +<p>When I became once more conscious, I +found myself in a strange bed, Savéliitch by +my side, and—Marie Ivanovna also. She +asked me tenderly how I felt? Savéliitch, +faithful fellow, cried out:</p> + +<p>“Thanks to Heaven he recovers, after four +days of it!”</p> + +<p>But Marie interrupted him, and begged +him not to disturb me with his loud exclamations. +I seized her hand, and she did not +withdraw it. Presently I felt her burning +lips upon my forehead. I asked her then to +become my wife. She begged me to calm +myself, if only for her sake, and left me.</p> + +<p>Although the barber of the regiment was +my only medical adviser, I soon recovered. +I and Marie were engaged; but she doubted +whether my parents would consent. This +doubt I could not help sharing; but the +letter I wrote to my father on the subject +appeared to both of us so tender and convincing, +that we felt certain of its success, +and gave ourselves up to the happy dreams +of lovers.</p> + +<p>I found that Chvabrine was a prisoner in +the corn-warehouse, and that Vassilissa had +his sword under lock and key. I obtained +his pardon from the captain; and, in my +happiness at tracing his wretched calumny +to offended pride, forgave him. My father, in +answer to my appeal, refused my prayer, +and informed me that I should soon be +removed from Bélogorsk. He also wrote +to Savéliitch, and called him “an old dog,” +for not having taken better care of me.</p> + +<p>I went straight to my mistress. She was +bitterly distressed, but adjured me to follow the +will of Heaven, and submit. She would never +marry me, she declared, without the benediction +of my parents, and from that day she +avoided me.</p> + +<p>This was towards the end of the year +seventeen hundred and seventy-three. The +inhabitants of the vast and fertile province of +Orenberg had only lately acknowledged the +sovereignty of the Czar, and were yet discontented, +and full of revolutionary ideas. Every +month some little insurrection bubbled +up. To suppress this harassing state of +things, the imperial government had erected +fortresses in various parts of the province, +and quartered therein Cossack soldiers. These +Cossacks in their turn became turbulent; +and the severe measures adopted by General<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> +Traubenberg to reduce the army to obedience +ended in his cruel murder, and a rising that +cost much blood. By severe imperial punishments +this rising had been suppressed; and +it was only some time after my arrival at +Bélogorsk that the authorities perceived how +ineffectual their cruel punishments had been.</p> + +<p>One evening when I was sitting alone in +my room, thinking of doleful things, I was +sent for by the commandant. I found him in +consultation with Chvabrine, Ivan Ignatiitch, +and the ouriadnik of the Cossacks. Neither +Marie nor her mother appeared. The subject +of our conference was the rising of the Cossacks +under Pougatcheff, and his assumption +of the style and title of Peter the Third. The +commandant had received orders to be on his +guard; and, if possible, to exterminate the +enemy. Putting on his spectacles, he began +to bustle about, and to issue orders to have +the cannon cleaned; and to have the Cossacks +kept true to the imperial cause.</p> + +<p>The ouriadnik had already deserted to the +rebel’s camp. A Bachkir had been taken +prisoner, with seditious papers upon his +person. This prisoner, had been bound and +secured in the commandant’s loft; and it was +resolved that he should be conducted before +us, and be subjected to the torture, in order +to extract from him a description of his +leader’s strength.</p> + +<p>The commandant had scarcely ordered the +Bachkir into his presence, when Vassilissa +rushed into the chamber, and cried out +that the rebels had taken the fortress of +Nijnéosern, had hanged all the officers, and +were now marching upon Bélogorsk. I +thought of Marie, and trembled; but my +energy increased with the occasion, and I +at once advised the commandant to send +the ladies to Orenberg. But Vassilissa would +not hear of this. She declared that she +would live and die with her husband, but +that she thought Marie should be sent away; +and that evening—the last Marie might +possibly spend at Bélogorsk—the supper-table +was surrounded by gloomy faces; and +no face I think, was gloomier than mine. We +parted early, but I contrived to forget my +sword, that I might have an excuse for returning +to bid Marie good-bye alone. When +I returned, I clasped her in my arms; she +sobbed bitterly; and thus we parted. I went +home, and, without undressing myself, lay +down to sleep.</p> + +<p>I was aroused by the entrance of the +corporal, who came to announce to me that +the Cossack soldiers had all deserted the +fortress, and that bands of strange men surrounded +us. I thought, with horror, that +Marie’s retreat was cut off. Having given +some necessary orders to the bearer of this +unwelcome news, I hurried off to the commandant’s +house, as the day was dawning. +On the way I was met by Ivan Ignatiitch, +who told me that the commandant was +already upon the ramparts, and that it was +too late for the commandant’s daughter to +be safely conveyed to Orenberg. Terribly +agitated, I followed the one-eyed officer to +that little eminence <a id="Change08"></a><ins title="Original has 'protected by a pallisade.'"> +protected by a pallisade,</ins> +which was the only <a id="Change09"></a> +<ins title="Original has 'fortification of Bélogorsk,'">fortification of Bélogorsk.</ins> +The captain was arranging his soldiers in +order of battle. In the dreary distance of the +steppe, I could plainly see the Cossacks and +the Bachkirs. The commandant ordered Ivan +Ignatiitch to point the cannon upon the +enemy, and the soldiers all vowed that they +would fight to the death.</p> + +<p>Presently, as the enemy began to advance +in a compact mass, Vassilissa, accompanied +by Marie, who would not leave her mother, +appeared, to know how affairs stood. +Marie’s pale face was turned upon me, and I +burned to prove to her that I had a brave +spirit worthy of her love. In the midst of +the advancing enemy, Pougatcheff, the renowned +rebel leader, could be distinguished, +mounted upon a white horse. In a few +minutes four horsemen advanced from the +main body, and rode close up to the ramparts. +They were four traitors from the fortress. +They called upon us not to resist. The captain +replied by a volley which killed one of the +four, and the rest rode back to join the advancing +army. The balls now began to whistle +about us; and at this moment the commandant +ordered Vassilissa and Marie to withdraw. +The old man blessed his child, embraced +his wife, and bade her put a sarafan upon +Marie, lest she should require it; the sarafan +being the rich robe in which the dead are +buried. The pale girl came back to make to +me the sign of a last farewell, and then went +away with her mother.</p> + +<p>The fall of the fortress was soon accomplished. +Our soldiers would not fight +(though they had very much affected me +when they swore to do it), but threw down +their arms after the first assault. We were +taken prisoners, and dragged by the triumphant +rebels through the streets, to an open +place, where Pougatcheff was seated surrounded +by his officers. He was handsomely +dressed; and, as I caught a glimpse +of his face through the crowd, I thought +it was one I had seen before. Pougatcheff +ordered the commandant to swear fidelity to +him as his lawful czar. Ivan Kourmitch +replied with a defiance. Pougatcheff fluttered +a white handkerchief in the air, and in a few +moments our poor commandant was swinging +from a gibbet. Ivan Ignatiitch shared his +commander’s fate: and then my turn came. +I was ready to follow my brave brother officers; +when Chvabrine, who had found time +to cut his hair short and provide himself with +a Cossack caftan, to desert to the enemy, +whispered something in the chief’s ear. +Pougatcheff, without looking at me, said, +“Hang him at once!”</p> + +<p>The rope was round my neck, and my +thoughts were with Heaven, when I was suddenly +released. I found that Savéliitch had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> +thrown himself at the chief’s feet, and told him +that a large sum would be paid for my ransom. +I was put aside, and remained a horrified +spectator of the scenes which ensued. A +Cossack killed Vassilissa with his sword, at +the foot of her husband’s gibbet, and then +Pougatcheff went to Father Garasim’s to dinner. +I rushed to the commandant’s house to +find Marie; there every room had been ransacked. +Presently, however, I found Palachka, +and she told me that the commandant’s +daughter was at Father Garasim’s house. +Wild with terror I rushed thither, for it was +to be the scene of Cossack revels. I asked +for the father’s wife; and she told me that +she had passed Marie off as her niece. The +poor girl was safe. I returned home hastily, +passing groups of rebels engaged in the work +of pillage.</p> + +<p>Savéliitch asked me whether I did not remember +Pougatcheff. I did not. He was surprised; +and reminded me of the drunken fellow +to whom I had given my touloup on my way +to Orenberg. He was right; that drunken +wanderer was now the successful rebel-chief, +and I understood the mercy that had been +extended to me. But I was much troubled. I +could not make up my mind to leave Marie; +yet I knew that my duty to my country +forbade me to remain in the midst of a rebel +camp. While I was thinking deeply of these +opposite calls upon my conduct, a Cossack +arrived to take me once more before his chief, +at the commandant’s house, where I found +Pougatcheff seated at a table covered with +bottles, and surrounded by eight or ten +Cossack officers. The wine had already excited +them. Chvabrine and the rebel ouriadnik, +who had deserted with the Cossacks from the +fort, were of the party.</p> + +<p>Pougatcheff welcomed me heartily, and +bade his officers make place for me at the +banqueting table. I sat down in silence. +Here, on the previous night, I had taken leave +of Marie.</p> + +<p>All were on good terms and quite free with +their chief. A march upon Orenberg having +been arranged, the officers retired. I was +about to follow them, when Pougatcheff bade +me remain. When we were alone, he burst +into a fit of laughter; telling me he had +spared me because of my kindness to him +when he was hiding from his enemies, and +that now, if I would serve him, he would +heap favours upon me. He asked me to +tell him frankly whether or not I believed +him to be the Czar. I was firm, and told +him that he was too clever to believe me, +even if I were capable of telling him a lie to +serve my purpose. He promised to make +me field-marshal if I would remain with +him. I replied that I had sworn to serve +the Empress; and that, if he wished to +do me a favour, he would provide me +with an escort to Orenberg. I told him +that my life was in his hands, but that I +would neither serve him nor promise not to +bear arms against him. He behaved well, +and said I should be free.</p> + +<p>Next morning I found Pougatcheff surrounded +by his officers, throwing money to +the crowd. He beckoned me to approach, +told me to leave instantly for Orenberg, +and to tell the garrison to expect him in a +week. If they threw open the gates to him +they would be well treated: if they resisted +they must expect terrible consequences. He +then turned to the crowd, and, to my horror, +presented Chvabrine to them as their future +governor! Chvabrine! Marie’s traducer!</p> + +<p>When Pougatcheff had left the square, I +hastened to Father Garasim’s house to learn +that Marie was in a fever and quite delirious. +I rushed to her room—how changed +she was! She did not know me. How could +I leave the poor orphan at Bélogorsk while +Chvabrine remained governor? Suddenly, +however, I thought that I might make all +haste to Orenberg and return with a strong +force, drive the rebels away, and claim my +bride. I seized the poor girl’s burning hand, +kissed it, took leave of her good protectors, +and was soon on my way, determined not to +lose a moment.</p> + +<p>As we approached Orenberg we saw the +state prisoners with their shaven heads and +disfigured faces, hard at work upon the fortifications. +I was conducted direct to the +general, who was lopping the fruit trees in +the garden. I related to him the misfortunes +of Bélogorsk, and pressed for help. He replied +that there would be a council of war in the +evening, and that he would be happy to see +me at it. I was there punctually. A cup of +tea was given to each guest, after which the +general called upon all present to deliberate +upon the state of affairs. The question +was, should the Imperial troops act on +the offensive or defensive? He declared +that he should require an opinion from each +individual; and, as usual, he should begin by +asking the opinion of the junior officers. He +then turned to me. I stated that the rebels +were not in a condition to resist a disciplined +army, and therefore urged the propriety of +acting vigorously on the offensive: hereupon +a little civil functionary, who was taking his +third cup of tea with the help of an admixture +of rum, suggested that operations should +be confined to an offer of seventy or one +hundred roubles for the head of Pougatcheff. +Every voice was for defensive measures; and, +when all present had delivered their opinions, +the general, tapping the ashes out of his pipe, +declared that he was of the same opinion as +the ensign. I looked proudly about me; +but the conclusion of the general’s speech +turned the triumph to the side of my +opponents, for this gallant old soldier declared +that he could not assume the responsibility +of acting against the decision of the majority; +therefore, preparations must be made for a +siege, and we must depend upon the fire +of the artillery, and the force of vigorous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> +sorties. I returned to my quarters in a state +of wretched despondency. Poor Marie!</p> + +<p>Pougatcheff was true to his message. He +appeared before Orenberg with a considerable +force, and the siege lasted long—with +various fortune—until the people within the +walls were almost starving. One day when +some of our cavalry had dispersed a strong +body of Cossacks, I was about to dispatch a +loiterer with my Turkish sword, when he +raised his hat and saluted me by name. I +recognised the ouriadnik of Bélogorsk. He had +a letter for me—I tore it open—it was from +Marie. It informed me that she was the forced +occupant of Chvabrine’s house, and that +within three days she would be compelled +to marry him or be at his mercy. The girl +implored me to fly to her succour.</p> + +<p>Almost mad, I spurred my horse, rode +at full gallop to the general’s house, threw +myself without ceremony into his room, and +asked him to give me a battalion of soldiers +and fifty Cossacks to drive the rebels out of +Bélogorsk. The old soldier began to argue the +matter coolly. This exasperated me, and I +told him that the daughter of our late valiant +commander was in the hands of Chvabrine, +and that he was about to force her to marry +him. The general thought that she might +be very happy with him for a time, and that +afterwards, when he had shot him on the +ramparts of Orenberg, it would be time +enough for me to marry the charming widow. +There was no hope of softening the old man. +I wandered away in despair. Out of this +despair, grew a desperate resolution.</p> + +<p>I resolved to leave Orenberg and go +alone to Bélogorsk. Savéliitch tried in vain +to dissuade me from my purpose, but without +effect. I mounted my horse and rode +briskly past the sentinels, out of Orenberg, +followed by my faithful servant: who was +mounted upon a lean horse, which one of +the besieged had given him, having no +more food for it. We rode hard; but night +had closed in when we approached the great +ravine where the main body of the rebels, +under Pougatcheff, were encamped. Suddenly +four or five lusty fellows surrounded +me. I struck at the first with my sword—putting +spurs to my horse, at the same +time, and so escaped; but Savéliitch was +overpowered, and, returning to help him, I +was overpowered too, and through the darkness +of that terrible night, led before the +rebel chief that his guard might know +whether they should hang me at once or +wait till daylight. I was conducted at +once to the isbâ, which was called the czar’s +palace. This imperial hut was lighted by +two tallow candles, and was furnished like +any common isbâ, except that the walls +were finely papered. Pougatcheff, surrounded +by his officers, recognised me at once, and +bade all his attendants retire, except two, +one of whom was a prisoner escaped from +Siberia. This man’s face was hideously +disfigured; his nose had been cut off, and +his forehead and cheeks branded with red-hot +irons. I told my business frankly, and +Pougatcheff declared that the oppressor of the +orphan should be hanged. But his officers +dissuaded him, and one of them suggested that +he should try the effects of a little torture +upon me. Pougatcheff then questioned me as +to the state of Orenberg; and, although I +knew that the people were dying of hunger, +I declared that it was excellently provisioned. +This reply suggested to one of the chief’s confidential +friends, the propriety of having +me hanged, as an impertinent liar. But Pougatcheff +was a generous enemy, and made +me declare to him that the commandant’s +daughter was my betrothed, and then he bade +his officers prepare supper for us, saying that +I was an old friend of his. I would have +willingly avoided the festivity, but it was impossible; +and I saw two little Cossack girls +enter to spread the cloth, sadly enough. I +ate my fish soup almost in silence.</p> + +<p>The festivity was continued until all present +were more or less intoxicated, and until Pougatcheff +had fallen asleep in his seat. I was then +conducted to the place in which I was to sleep, +and was there locked up for the night. On the +following morning I found a crowd surrounding +a kibitka, in which Pougatcheff was +seated. He beckoned me to a seat beside +him, and to my astonishment shouted to the +stout Tartar driver, “To Bélogorsk!” The +kibitka slipped quickly over the snow. In a +few hours I should see my beloved Marie.</p> + +<p>We drew up, after a rapid journey, before +the old commandant’s house. Chvabrine +hastened out to meet his sovereign; but +was troubled when he saw me. Pougatcheff +entered the house, drank a glass of +brandy, then asked about Marie. Chvabrine +said she was in bed. His chief then ordered +the traitor to conduct us to her room. +The fellow did so, but hesitated at her door,—pretended +to have lost the key—then said +that the girl was delirious. Pougatcheff +forced the door with his foot; and, to my inexpressible +horror I saw my dear betrothed lying +upon the floor, in coarse peasant clothing, +with bread and water before her. She shrieked +when she saw me. Pougatcheff asked her +what her husband had been doing to her; but +she replied vehemently that she was not his +wife, and never would be. Pougatcheff turned +furiously upon Chvabrine, and Chvabrine, to +my disgust, fell upon his knees at the rebel +chief’s feet. Then Pougatcheff told Marie +that she was safe; but she recognised in +him the murderer of her father and closed +her eyes in horror. However, he made Chvabrine +write a safe-conduct for Marie and me +through all the provinces under the control +of his followers; and then he went out to +inspect the fortifications. I was left alone, +and presently Marie came to me, with a smile +upon her pale face, dressed in her own becoming +clothes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p> + +<p>We enjoyed the tenderness of our meeting +for a time in silence; but presently I +told her my plan—how that it was impossible +for her to accompany me to Orenberg, +where starvation was playing terrible ravages;—how +I had arranged that Savéliitch +should conduct her to my father’s house. +Remembering my father’s letter, she hesitated; +but, at length, my arguments +prevailed. In an hour my safe-conduct +arrived.</p> + +<p>We followed in a few hours, travelling in +an old carriage that had belonged to Marie’s +father, Palachka being in attendance upon +Marie. A little after nightfall we arrived +at a small town which we believed to be in the +possession of the rebels; but, on giving Pougatcheff’s +pass-word to the sentinels, we were +instantly surrounded by Russian soldiers, and +I was hurried off to prison. I demanded an +interview with the commanding officer; but +this was refused; and I was told the major +had ordered Marie to be taken to him. Blind +with fury, I rushed past the sentinels direct +into the major’s room, where I found him +gambling with his officers. In a moment I +recognised him,—as the commander—Lowrine, +who had lightened my purse at Simbirsk.</p> + +<p>He received me with a hearty greeting, +and began to rally me about my travelling +companion; but my explanations quieted +his raillery, and he went to make his +excuses to Marie for his rude message, and to +provide her with the best lodging the town +afforded. I supped with Lowrine that night, +and agreed to do my duty, by joining his troop +at once, and sending my betrothed on to Simbirsk, +under the care of Savéliitch. Savéliitch +had many objections,but I overpowered them; +and Marie shed many tears, but I kissed them +away before we parted.</p> + +<p>The vigorous operations of the following +spring brought many reverses to Pougatcheff; +at last he was taken. I jumped for joy. I +should clasp my beloved Marie once more in +my arms. Lowrine laughed at my extravagant +delight.</p> + +<p>I was about to depart for my father’s house +when Lowrine entered my room, and showed +me an order for my arrest, and safe conveyance +to Kazan, to give evidence against +Pougatcheff. This drove me nearly mad with +disappointment. There was no evasion to be +thought of, and I was escorted on my way to +Kazan, between two hussars with drawn +swords. I found this place almost in ashes. +Here I was at once placed in irons, and +locked up in a wretched cell. But my conscience +was tranquil, for I had resolved to +tell the simple truth about my transactions +with Pougatcheff.</p> + +<p>On the day after my arrival I appeared +before the council. In reply to the questions +of my judges—who were evidently prejudiced +against me—I told every fact as it +had occurred, until I came to Marie, when +I suddenly thought that to name her would +be to ruin her. I hesitated and was silent. +I was then confronted with another prisoner—Chvabrine! +He lied my life away; swore +that I had been a spy in the service of +Pougatcheff, and we were both conducted +back to prison.</p> + +<p>Meantime, my father had received Marie +kindly, and both my parents soon loved her. +She explained to them the innocence of my +connexion with the rebel chief, and they laughed +at my adventures; until one day they received a +letter from their relation, Prince Banojik, +telling them that I had been convicted; +but that, through his interference, my punishment +was commuted to perpetual exile in +Siberia.</p> + +<p>My parents were stricken with grief, and +Marie, with the soul of a heroine, started with +Palachka and the faithful Savéliitch for St. +Petersburg. She heard that the Court was +at the summer palace of Tzarskoïé-Selo; and, +with the assistance of the wife of a tradesman +who served the Empress, gained access +to the Palace gardens. Here she met a +very agreeable lady, to whom she told her +story, mentioning how I suffered because +I would not even divulge her own name to +exculpate myself. This lady listened attentively, +and then promised to take care that +the petition on my behalf should be presented +to the Empress. A few hours afterwards, +Marie was summoned before the Empress +herself, in whom she recognised the +lady she had met in the garden, and I +received my pardon; the Empress being convinced +that I was innocent.</p> + +<p>Shortly afterwards, we were married.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[C]</a> This story forms the substance of the most popular +prose fiction of the Russian poet Pouschkin, who died +in eighteen hundred and thirty-nine. He was historiographer +to the Emperor Nicholas.</p> + +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="PNCC">P.N.C.C.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>The thing which drove me from my late +purchase of Longfield Hall in Cumberland—after +nine months’ trial,—back to town, has +been a dead secret, until this present writing. +My friends have found a mine of reasons to +explain the circumstance: either the county +families refused to visit us; or our income +was not more than enough to maintain our +lodge-keeper; or my eldest daughter had +made love to the surgeon’s young man +at Nettleton; or I could not get on without +my billiards and my five to two at whist; +or I had been horse-whipped by Lord +Wapshaw for riding over his hounds. There +was more behind the curtain than people +thought; and a thousand other good-natured +explanations.</p> + +<p>The actual facts are these: We arrived in +Cumberland at the close of last autumn, and +were as happy for some months as the days +were long—and the days were very long +indeed; everybody was kind and hospitable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> +to us, and, on our parts, my port became a +proverb and my daughters a toast. It was +“Blathers, come and take pot-luck,” from +almost any neighbour I fell in with on my +walks; or, “Mr. Blathers, we see nothing of +your good wife and family,” from the archdeacon’s +lady, though we had been dining at +the Cloisters three times within the fortnight; +or “Lord and Lady Wapshaw have the——” +but, no; the forms of familiarity, through +which the high nobility communicate with +their intimates, should not be lightly quoted. +In a word, then, I was a popular man and +“an accession to the county.”</p> + +<p>In the early spring time I began to feel the +country gentleman’s first grief; it came over +with the swallows and, like them, never left my +roof. Two of my acquaintances—men I had +never esteemed as evil genii—rode over on an +April day to Longfield; Sir Chuffin Stumps +and Biffin Biffin of the Oaks; they were unusually +cordial—quite empressés, my wife +subsequently observed—to all of us, and after +luncheon they desired to have some conversation +with me in my study; that is the apartment +wherein I keep my Landed Gentry, my +stomach-pump (a capital thing to have in a +country-house), and my slippers, and thither +my two guests were ushered.</p> + +<p>“It has always been the custom, my dear +Blathers,” said the baronet, “for the tenant of +Longfield Hall to be the president of the Nettleton +Cricket-club; that we should offer, that +he should accept that honor, is due to his position +in the county” (and indeed there was +scarcely a flat piece of ground big enough to +play upon in all the district, except in my +paddock, I well know). “Lather, your predecessor, +was president; Singin was president +before him; the Longfields of Longfield +were presidents time out of mind; and you—Blathers—you +will be president now?”</p> + +<p>“Of course you will,” agreed Biffin.</p> + +<p>“But, my dear sirs,” said I, “what shall I +have to do?—what will be my duties, +my—”</p> + +<p>“Do!—nothing at all,” interrupted Sir +Chuffin Stumps, “positively nothing; you +have no duties, only privileges; let us have +your ground to play upon; dine with us on +Wednesdays in the tent, and on the great +match-days; give a crust of bread and a +shakedown to a swell from any long distance, +now and then; you sit at the head of the +festive board—your health is drunk continually—you +are appealed to upon all the nice +points of the game, and your decision is +final. It’s a splendid post!”</p> + +<p>“Splendid!” echoed Biffin.</p> + +<p>“But I have not played at cricket for +this thirty years,” I urged. “I don’t know the +rules. I couldn’t see the ball, if you were to +give me all creation. I’m as blind as a bat.”</p> + +<p>“Ha, ha, very good,” laughed the baronet. +“A bat—d’ye see, Biffin,—a bat? Blathers +will do, depend upon it; he’ll keep the +table in a roar. As for the game, Mr. President, +it’s just what it used to be—round +instead of under, that’s all; and they cut a +good deal oftener and stop much less, perhaps, +than they used to do.”</p> + +<p>“Dear me,” said I, “then there’s not so +many of them as there were, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“And as for near-sight,” pursued Sir +Chuffin, “play in spectacles. Bumpshus, our +great wicket-keeper, he plays in spectacles; +Grogram, your vice-president, he plays in +spectacles; it’s considered rather an advantage +than otherwise to play in spectacles.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” echoed Biffin, “it’s a great +advantage.”</p> + +<p>“So good-bye, Blathers,” said both gentlemen +rising; “the first of May is our meeting +day, and the tent must be up and everything +arranged, of course, by that time; but Grogram +will write and let you know every particular.”</p> + +<p>And that was how I was made P.N.C.C., +almost without a struggle.</p> + +<p>In the course of a week I received a letter +from Grogram, saying that there would be no +difficulty whatever about anything; he would +settle about the dining-tent, and the dressing-tent, +and the cooking-tent, and I should only +have the contracts for food and the wine-tasting +to manage; the hiring of a bowler, the +<a id="Change01"></a><ins title="Original has 'cuting'">cutting</ins> +and rolling of the grass. The coming +matches for the year—I should, of course, +arrange about myself; and I must be sure, +he wrote, to let all the members of the club +know of the day of meeting, and all the +playing members of every match-day, and to +dun Lord Wapshaw for his two years’-due +subscriptions, as the treasurer didn’t like to—with +some other little matters; and, by the +bye, did I happen to have my cricket toggery +complete yet? as, if not, he (Grogram) could +let me have a registered belt almost for +nothing, because he had grown out of it, he +was sorry to say, himself; also some improved +galvanised india-rubber leg-guards, and some +tubular batting-gloves, and a catapult—remarkably +cheap. The postscript said, “of +course you will come out in flannels and +spike-soles.”</p> + +<p>I really thought when I first read this +letter that I should have died with anxiety. +I showed it to Mrs. Blathers, and she fairly +burst into tears, and it was hours before we +could either of us look our difficulties calmly +in the face. Flannels! I had at that moment +upon my person the only description +of flannel garment which I possessed—a +jerkin coming down no distance at all, and +not to be dreamt of as a reception-dress +to the club and half the county upon the +first of May; spike-soles I did happen to +have, being a skater, and set them out accordingly; +but what possible use a pair of +skates could be for cricket I could not +imagine. The rest of the things I sent to +Grogram for, who accommodated me with +them very good-naturedly for fifteen pounds +fifteen shillings. I put them all on—one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> +way and another—but could make no use of +the catapult, except to sit in it, and my +youngest child had convulsions, because, +she sobbed, Pa looked so like that dreadful +diver who lived in the pond at the Polytechnic.</p> + +<p>I issued all the circulars, and signed myself +the obedient servant of two hundred and +forty-six strange gentlemen. I set my gardener +and my coachman to roll out the cricket-ground. +I tasted the bad sherry of the three +Nettleton wine-merchants, and made two of +them my enemies for life. My advertisements +for a bowler were answered by a host of +youths, with immense professions and very +limited employment; some were from Lord’s, +some from the Oval, “the Maribun know’d +him well enough,” averred one young gentleman; +another—with a great hollow in his +hand from constant practice—affirmed, that +“if I wanted hart, there I had it, and no mistake;” +by which he meant that Art was +enshrined in his proper person—and him I +chose.</p> + +<p>The first of May was as the poets love to +paint it: the white tents glittered in sunshine, +and the flags fluttered from their tops to a +gentle breeze; the wickets were pitched +upon the velvet sward, a fiddle and cornopean, +concealed in the shrubbery, welcomed +every arrival with See the Conquering Hero +Comes; and the president’s heart beat high +with the sense of his position. I was attired +in my full diving-dress, over the Nettleton +uniform, and I held a bat in my right hand. +The sides were chosen, and the game began; +the carriages of the nobility and gentry formed +a brilliant circle round the ground; a flying +ball, struck by a hand more skilful than +common, gave their situation the least touch +of peril to enhance it. I myself was placed +at one of the wickets, and my new bowler +was placed opposite to me; he and I had +practised together for a day or two, and he +knew the balls I liked. I sent the sixth out +to the left with a great bang, to the admiration +of all but Grogram—who is a person +of saturnine disposition—and got three +runs; alas! the unprofessional Wilkins—the +swiftest round-hand in the club—then +inherited the mission of my destruction by +bowling to me; the whizz of his balls absolutely +took away my breath, and, if they had +struck me, would doubtless have taken away +my legs. But I placed the bat resolutely +in the earth, and cowered behind it as well +as I could manage. At last, after a warning +cry of Play!—about as inappropriate a name +as he could have called it—a tornado seemed +to sweep past me, followed by a smack as of +the resistance of flesh, and the wicket-keeper +ejaculated “Out!” to my infinite joy.</p> + +<p>Then came the happy time of cricket. +The danger of the thing being over for that +whole innings, you have nothing to do but +to lie on the ground with a cigar, and +explain how you had intended to have +caught that ball, and hit it between long +field off and cover point; when you holloa +out, “Butter-fingers!” and “Wide!” and +“Run it out!” My happiness, however, was +but of short duration; the new bowler delivered +his deadly weapon against the rest +in a manner he had known better than to +practise upon me. Wilkins, too, seemed to +derive new strength from every bail he +struck towards the sky, and reaped the air +with that tremendous arm of his more +terribly than ever. In an hour and twenty +minutes, we were fagging out on our side. +The president had his choice of places; and, +having observed that the wicket-keepers had +either stopped the balls, or much diminished +their velocity before they arrived at long-stop, +I declared for that happy post. Alas! +this was the case no longer. Swift as +thought, and infinitely more substantial, the +balls rushed with unabated fury beside me; +hardly, by leaping into the air, and stretching +my legs very wide apart, could I escape +the fearful concussion. “Stop ’em! Stop +’em!” screamed the fielders. “Why the +deuce don’t he stop ’em?” bawled old Grogram, +indignantly. So I waited my opportunity, +watching, hat in hand, till one came +slower than usual; and then I pounced upon +him from behind, as a boy does on a butterfly. +The crown of my hat was carried away, +indeed, but the missile could not force its +way through my person, and I threw it up to +the man that hallo’d for it most in triumph; +but my reputation as a cricketer was gone for +ever.</p> + +<p>At dinner I was comparatively successful. +Lord Wapshaw was on my right; Sir Chuffin +Stumps on my left; two long lines of gentlemen +in flannels were terminated, perspectively, +by Grogram, opposite; the archdeacon +said grace; my new bowler assisted +in waiting at table; and everything was +upon the most gorgeous scale. Presently, +however, the rain came down in torrents, +and, in spite of the patent imperviousness of +the tent, as vouched for by the vice-president, +some umbrellas had to be borrowed from the +hall (which were never returned). After +dinner, there was a friend of his lordship to +be ballotted for, and I distributed the little +balls, as directed, and sent round the box. +The rule of exclusion was one black ball in +ten. There were four black balls to thirty +white balls, and I had to publish the fact to +all present.</p> + +<p>“My friend black-balled, sir?” said the +irascible peer. “Impossible! Did you do +it?—did you?—did you?” he asked of +everybody successively, amidst roars of +laughter at his utter want of appreciation of +the fundamental end and aim of the institution +of vote by ballot. “There must be +some mistake, sir,” said he, when they had +each and all declined to satisfy such an extraordinary +enquiry. “Mr. Blathers, try them +again.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p>This time there were four white balls to +thirty black ones, a melancholy result which +I had also to announce. His lordship left +the tent—the marquee, somebody observed—like +a maniac; and, though I swear I +did not blackball his man, he never asked +me to Hiltham Castle again from that day +to this.</p> + +<p>Now the season had begun, I became inundated +with letters from the presidents of +other cricket-clubs, requesting the N.C.C. to +play them on some particular day; which, if +it suited Wilkins, was invariably inconvenient +to Grogram, and if it pleased Grogram, was +sure to be the worst in the year for all the +rest. So we were requested to name our own +day, in a flippant, skittle-playing, come-on-when-you-like +sort of manner, throwing upon +me still greater responsibilities. The end of it +was that the Levant club came to Nettleton, +eat our dinner, drank our wine, and beat us; +but refused to play a return match, or to give +us any dinner whatever. Swiftly Downham, +Esq., the man who has a European reputation +as mid-wicket-on, honoured us by his company +at Longfield “for a couple of nights,” +as he bargained, and stayed a fortnight, +smoking regularly in the best bedroom. +Swiper, the professional batsman, also favoured +us, and left me a cotton pocket-handkerchief +with a full-length portrait of himself, in exchange, +I hope—or else it was robbery—for a +plain white silk one of my own. A whole +school came over from Chumleyborough to +play us, and nine of them took up their +quarters at the hall. Fresh from toffey and +gingerbeer as they were, I was fool enough to +give them a champagne supper, of which the +consequences were positively tremendous. +They were all of them abominably ill, and +the biggest boy kissed my daughter Florence, +mistaking her, as he afterwards stated in +apology, for one of the maids.</p> + +<p>Wednesday, on which the club met, became +my dark day of the week, and cast its shadow +before and behind it; it was then that I made +feud with Wilkins, by deciding that his balls +were wide, and exasperated Grogram by declaring +his legs were before wicket. I should +not have known how these things were, even +could I have seen so far; but I gave judgment +alternately, now for the ins and now for the +outs, with the utmost impartiality. One +fine afternoon my own and favourite bowler +absconded with about a dozen of the best +bats, quite a forest of stumps, and a few +watches belonging to the members of the +N.C.C.; this was the drop too much that +made my cup of patience overflow. I determined +to resign, and I did resign.</p> + +<p>Staying at Longfield Hall any longer, +having ceased to be the president, I felt was +not to be thought of, so I disposed of it. I +wrote a cheque for a lot of things, embraced +Grogram (whom I dearly love), and left the +club my catapult. My last act of office was +to appoint another bowler—a black man. He +does capitally, Wilkins writes; only—from his +having been selected by me from a band of +tumblers, I suppose—he will always bowl +from under his left leg.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="LAVATERS_WARNING">LAVATER’S WARNING.</h2> +</div> + + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Trust him little who doth raise</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To the same height both great and small,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And sets the sacred crown of praise,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Smiling, on the head of all.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Trust him less who looks around</div> + <div class="verse indent2">To censure all with scornful eyes,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And in everything has found</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Something that he dare despise.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But for one who stands apart,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Stirr’d by nought that can befall,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">With a cold indifferent heart,</div> + <div class="verse indent2">Trust him least and last of all.</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_FRIEND_OF_THE_LIONS">THE FRIEND OF THE LIONS.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>We are in the Studio of a friend of ours, +whose knowledge of all kinds of Beasts and +Birds has never been surpassed, and to whose +profound acquaintance with the whole +Animal Kingdom, every modern picture-gallery +and every print-shop, at home and +abroad, bears witness. We have been wanted +by our friend as a model for a Rat-catcher. +We feel much honored, and are sitting to him +in that distinguished capacity, with an awful +Bulldog much too near us.</p> + +<p>Our friend is, as might be expected, the +particular friend of the Lions in the Zoological +Gardens, Regent’s Park, London. On +behalf of that Royal Family dear to his heart, +he offers—standing painting away at his +easel, with his own wonderful vigour and +ease—a few words of friendly remonstrance to +the Zoological Society.</p> + +<p>You are an admirable society (says our +friend, throwing in, now a bit of our head, +and now a bit of the Bulldog’s), and you have +done wonders. You are a society that has +established in England, a national menagerie +of the most beautiful description, and that has +placed it freely and in a spirit deserving of +the highest commendation within the reach +of the great body of the people. You are a +society rendering a real service and advantage +to the public, and always most sensibly and +courteously represented by your excellent +<span class="smcap">Mitchell</span>.</p> + +<p>Then why (proceeds our friend), don’t you +treat your Lions better?</p> + +<p>In the earnestness of his enquiry, our +friend looks harder than usual at the Bulldog. +The Bulldog immediately droops and +becomes embarrassed. All dogs feel that +our friend knows all their secrets, and that it +is utterly hopeless to attempt to take him in. +The last base action committed by this Bulldog +is on his conscience, the moment our +friend fixes him. “What? You did, eh?” +says our friend to the Bulldog. The Bulldog +licks his lips with the greatest nervousness,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +winks his red eyes, balances himself afresh +on his bandy forelegs, and becomes a spectacle +of dejection. He is as little like his vagabond +self, as that remarkable breed which the +French call a bouledogue.</p> + +<p>Your birds (says our friend, resuming his +work, and addressing himself again to the Zoological +Society), are as happy as the day is—he +was about to add, long, but glances at the +light and substitutes—short. Their natural +habits are perfectly understood, their structure +is well-considered, and they have nothing +to desire. Pass from your birds to those +members of your collection whom Mr. Rogers +used to call, “our poor relations.” Of course +I mean the monkeys. They have an artificial +climate carefully prepared for them. They +have the blessing of congenial society carefully +secured to them. They are among their +own tribes and connexions. They have shelves +to skip upon, and pigeon-holes to creep into. +Graceful ropes dangle from the upper beams +of their sitting-rooms, by which they swing, +for their own enjoyment, the fascination of +the fair sex, and the instruction of the enquiring +minds of the rising generation. Pass +from our poor relations to that beast, the +Hippopotamus—What do you mean?</p> + +<p>The last enquiry is addressed, not to the +Zoological Society, but to the Bulldog, who +has deserted his position, and is sneaking +away. Passing his brush into the left thumb +on which he holds his palette, our friend +leisurely walks up to the Bulldog, and slaps +his face! Even we, whose faith is great, +expect to see him next moment with the +Bulldog hanging on to his nose; but, the +Bulldog is abjectly polite, and would even +wag his tail if it had not been bitten off in +his infancy.</p> + +<p>Pass, I was saying (coolly pursues our +friend at his easel again), from our poor relations +to that impersonation of sensuality, the +Hippopotamus. How do you provide for +him? Could he find, on the banks of the +Nile, such a villa as you have built for him +on the banks of the Regent’s canal? Could +he find, in his native Egypt, an appropriately +furnished drawing-room, study, bath, wash-house, +and spacious pleasure-ground, all en +suite, and always ready? I think not. Now, +I beseech your managing committee and your +natural philosophers, to come with me and +look at the Lions.</p> + +<p>Here, our friend seizes a piece of charcoal +and instantly produces, on a new canvas +standing on another easel near, a noble Lion +and Lioness. The Bulldog (who deferentially +resumed his position after having his face +slapped), looks on in manifest uneasiness, +lest this new proceeding should have something +to do with him.</p> + +<p>There! says our friend, throwing the +charcoal away, There they are! The majestic +King and Queen of quadrupeds. The British +Lion is no longer a fictitious creature in the +British coat of arms. You produce your +British Lion every year from this royal +couple. And how, with all the vast amount +of resources, knowledge, and experience at +your command, how do you treat these your +great attractions? From day to day, I find +the noble creatures patiently wearing out +their weary lives in narrow spaces where +they have hardly room to turn, and condemned +to face in the roughest weather a +bitter Nor’-Westerly aspect. Look at those +wonderfully-constructed feet, with their exquisite +machinery for alighting from springs +and leaps. What do you conceive to be the +kind of ground to which those feet are, in the +great foresight of Nature, least adapted? +Bare, smooth, hard boards, perhaps, like the +deck of a ship? Yes. A strange reason +why you should choose that and no other +flooring for their dens!</p> + +<p>Why, Heaven preserve us! (cries our +friend, +<a id="Change02"></a><ins title="Original has 'frightning'">frightening</ins> +the Bulldog very much) do +any of you keep a cat? Will any of you do me +the favour to watch a cat in a field or garden, +on a bright sunshiny day—how she crouches +in the mould, rolls in the sand, basks in the +grass, delights to vary the surface upon +which she rests, and change the form of the +substance upon which she takes her ease. +Compare such surfaces and substances with +the one uniform, unyielding, unnatural, unelastic, +inappropriate piece of human carpentery +upon which these beautiful animals, +with their vexed faces, pace and repace, and +pass each other two hundred and fifty times +an hour.</p> + +<p>It is really incomprehensible (our friend +proceeds), in you who should be so well +acquainted with animals, to call these boards—or +that other uncomfortable boarded object +like a Mangle with the inside taken out—a +Bed, for creatures with these limbs and these +habits. That, a Bed for a Lion and Lioness, +which does not even give them a chance of +being bruised in a new place? Learn of your +cat again, and see how <i>she</i> goes to bed. Did +you ever find her, or any living creature, go +to bed, without re-arranging to the whim and +sensation of the moment, the materials of the +bed itself? Don’t you, the Zoological Society, +punch and poke your pillows, and settle into +suitable places in your beds? Consider then, +what the discomfort of these magnificent +brutes must be, to whom you leave no diversity +of choice, no power of new arrangement, and +as to whose unchanging and unyielding beds +you begin with a form and substance that have +no parallel in their natural lives. If you +doubt the pain they must endure, go to museums +and colleges where the bones of lions +and other animals of the feline tribe +who have lived in captivity under similar +circumstances, are preserved; and you +will find them thickly encrusted with a granulated +substance, the result of long lying +upon unnatural and uncomfortable planes.</p> + +<p>I will not be so pressing as to the feeding +of my Royal Friends (pursues the Master), but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +even there I think you are wrong. You may +rely upon it, that the best regulated families +of Lions and Lionesses don’t dine every +day punctually at the same hour, in their natural +state, and don’t always keep the same +kind and quantity of meat in the larder. +However, I will readily waive that question +of board, if you will only abandon the other.</p> + +<p>The time of the sitting being out, our +friend takes his palette from his thumb, lays +it aside with his brush, ceases to address the +Zoological Society, and releases the Bulldog +and myself. Having occasion to look closely +at the Bulldog’s chest, he turns that model +over as if he were made of clay (if I were to +touch him with my little finger he would pin +me instantly), and examines him without the +smallest regard to his personal wishes or convenience. +The Bulldog, having humbly submitted, +is shown to the door.</p> + +<p>“Eleven precisely, to-morrow,” says our +friend, “or it will be the worse for you.” +The Bulldog respectfully slouches out. Looking +out of the window, I presently see him +going across the garden, accompanied by a +particularly ill-looking proprietor with a +black eye—my prototype I presume—again +a ferocious and audacious Bulldog, who will +evidently kill some other dog before he gets +home.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_MANCHESTER_STRIKE">THE MANCHESTER STRIKE.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>There can be no doubt that the judgment +to be formed upon a strike among the operatives +in a great factory district, if it is to be +worth anything, must be based upon a more +difficult chain of reasoning than usually goes +to the consideration of irregularities in the +appointed course of trade. Perfectly free +competition regulates all prices, it is said; +and, in most callings, regulates with certainty +the price of labour. A self-adjusting power +is introduced by it into the usual machinery +of commerce. So far as regards labour, the +working of it is that, as a rule, every man +goes where he can get most value for such +work as he can best perform; and every +man who wants labour will, to the extent his +capital allows, vie with his neighbours in +attempting to secure to his service the best +labour he can meet with of the sort he +wants. That is the ordinary course of trade. +Only the true price stands, and that price +being the lowest by which men of average +capabilities find that they can live, a poor +trade entails secret hardships; middling +trade a bare subsistence; and none but +a very brisk trade affords chance of wealth. +So it is with the price of skilled labour; +but, with the price of unskilled labour, it +is scarcely so. In each class of men possessing +special capabilities, there is a given +number only, and the aim of each of +their employers is to do what he can +towards securing for himself, out of that +number, the best. For the absolutely unskilled, +there can be no competition when a +mass of the population, ignorant and in +sore need, is pressing forward to receive a +dole of such work as it can perform; or, if +there be a competition, it is of an inverse +kind—a struggle among thousands for the +food of hundreds; each striving by the most +desperate offer of cheap labour—sometimes +even an hour’s work for a farthing—to secure +a portion of the necessary subsistence.</p> + +<p>Skilled labour is, with but few exceptions, +subject to an inevitable law, with which employer +and employed alike must be content +to bring their operations into harmony. But, +with unskilled labour, the compulsion set on +the employer is in no proportion to that +set on the employed. Wages in that case +are not regulated by a just regard to the +fair relations between capital and labour; the +question among competitors being not who +shall, by paying most, attract the most efficient +class of servants, and secure the heartiest +assistance; but who shall, by paying least, +take most advantage of the necessity of people +who are struggling for the chance of only a +few crumbs of the bread of independence. It +thus becomes notorious enough how it is that +cheap articles are produced out of the lifeblood +of our fellow-creatures. The evil +can only be corrected now, by the direct +interference of our consciences. Unwholesomely +cheap production is a perversion of +the common law of trade which will in +course of time be blotted out by the advance +of education; and there can never be in this +country a glut of intelligence and skill, +although we may soon have a glut of ignorance. +Parallel with the advance of mind, +there will run the advance of mind-work, +and the diffusion of a right sense of its value +will be increased.</p> + +<p>Thus it will be seen, that while we believe +with all our hearts in the wholesomeness of +the great principle of free competition—regard +nothing as so really helpful to the +labourer, so sure to beget healthy trade and +bring out all the powers of the men engaged +in it—we do see that there is in society one +class, and that a large one, upon which, when +men look, they may believe that competition +is an evil. The truth is, that the existence of +that class, so helpless and so much neglected, +is the evil to remove; but while it remains—as +wholesome meat may kill a man with a +disease upon him—there is an unsound body +hurt by it, requiring, O political economist! +spoon-meat and medicine, not the substantial +bread and beef which doubtless theory can +prove and experience affirm, to be the best of +nourishment for human bodies. There are +fevers among bodies politic as among bodies +corporal, and we are disposed to think that +half the difficulties opposed to a distinct and +general perception of the truths which our +economists have ascertained, depend upon +the fact that they have not yet advanced—so +to speak—from a just theory of nutrition to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +the formation of a true system of therapeutics. +That which will maintain health is not, necessarily, +that which will restore it. Often it +happens that a blister or a purge, though it +would certainly make sound men sick, will +make the sick man whole. May it not also +be that what is ruinous to all sound trade +shall hereafter come to be known as a social +medicine possessed, in certain cases, of a +healing power, and applicable therefore to +some states of disordered system? We +believe that a great many discrepancies of +opinion may be reconciled by a view like +this. Its justice is hardly to be questioned; +although, as to the particular applications +of it, there is room for any amount of discussion.</p> + +<p>Thus, in the case of the Manchester strike, +the workmen—though not of the unskilled +class—may state that they are unable to +feel the working of the principle of competition; +that if they do not get what pay +they like at one factory, they are not practically +at liberty to get the value of their +labour in another. Even the population of +one mill, thrown out of work, is too large and +too special, as to the nature of the various +kinds of skill possessed among its people, to +be able to find anything like prompt absorption +into other factories; but as masters +almost always act in groups for the determination +of wages, it is the population, not of +one mill, but that of five or six, that becomes +discontented; and the best proof of the fact +that it is practically unable to better itself even +though higher wages may be given elsewhere +is, that it does not better itself. There is a +curious and decided variation in the rates of +wages paid in various factories and manufacturing +towns; variations artificially increased +by strikes, but the existence of which shows, +at any rate, to the satisfaction of the operatives, +that rates may be arbitrary, and that +the natural law does not work easily in their +case which brings the price of any article to +its just, uniform level. The Manchester +masters point out to their men other masters +who pay less than they pay; the operatives +point on the other hand, to masters paying +more. But it is not in their power to carry +their own labour to those masters, as it ought +to be, for a free working of the principle of +competition. Mechanical and accidental difficulties +stand completely in the way, and they +are aggravated on both sides by habits of imperfect +combination. It is just to state these +difficulties, and to show that the instinct of +the operative may not be altogether reprehensible +when it suggests to him that against the +worst uneasiness which he feels in the system +to which he belongs, a blister or a bloodletting, +in the shape of a strike, is the best +remedy. He may be very wrong, as a man +is apt to be <a id="Change10"></a> +<ins title="Original has 'wrong when doctoring himself-'">wrong when doctoring himself.</ins> +There is an excuse for his quackery in the +fact that he has, at present, no physician to +call in.</p> + +<p>The difficulties of the case, as it is felt by +employers and employed in our manufacturing +districts, is aggravated, as we have said, +by imperfect combinations; for, between the +trades’ unions and the masters’ associations +there is, in truth, a perfect unity of interest. +They who reduce the master’s capital, reduce +his power of employing labour; they who +wrong the labourer by whom they live, reduce +his will and power to do work. At present, +men and masters are in many cases combatants, +because they never have been properly allies; +they have not been content to feel that they +are fellow-workers, that the man at the helm +and the man at the oars are both in the +same boat, and that the better they agree +together, the more likely they will be to +weather out a storm.</p> + +<p>In the case of the existing strike at Manchester, +we have read carefully the manifestoes, +replies, and counter-replies that +have been passing between the opposed bodies +for the purpose of being laid before the public; +and the fact made in them of all others +most manifest is—that the points raised in +them are points that ought to have been +raised very many months ago; discussed and +understood between the masters and the men +before the strike, and for the prevention +of the strike.</p> + +<p>Upon the precise points in dispute we +cannot undertake to give a definite opinion. +From each party to the quarrel we get half a +case, and the halves are not such as the +public easily will know how to unite into a +distinct whole. Rates of wages, as we have +already said, do not appear to be uniform, +and while the masters in Manchester desire, +as we think, most fairly and properly, to bring +a certain class of wages, raised unduly by +strikes, to its just and natural rate, pointing +to some other place in which the rate is low, +the men point to a place where the rates are +higher than at Manchester, and say, Come let +us strike an average between the two. The +offer is refused. It may be necessarily and +wisely refused. There are evidently many +accessory considerations that affect the nominal +day’s wages in this place and that. To +the public out of Lancashire it cannot be +explained fully by manifestoes. Between +masters and men, if they were in any habit +of maintaining a right mutual understanding +it ought not to be possible that any controversy +about them could be pushed to the +extremity of open breach. The spinners on +strike head one of their documents with the +last words of Justice Talfourd: “If I were +asked what is the greatest want in English +society to mingle class with class, I would say +in one word, the want of sympathy.” Most +true; but need we say that there is sympathy +due from workmen towards employer, as well +as from employer towards workmen? It is +essential to a correction of the evil thus stated +that the operative should either generously +be the first to give up hostile prejudices, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> +that at the least he should be altogether +prompt to second, heart and soul, every attempt +of the master to establish a relation +of good-will and confidence with him. Men +rarely quarrel except through what is wisely +called—misunderstanding.</p> + +<p>There is some reason that we will not +undertake to give, which causes Lancashire, +although by no means the only British factory +district, to be the district most afflicted by +misunderstandings. Nowhere else are the +masters so much obstructed by the dictatorial +spirit of the men; nowhere else is the law so +much interfered with, by the dictatorial spirit +of the masters. In Scotland, Yorkshire, and +the west of England, masters and men work +generally well together, and the law is more +or less obeyed; machinery, for instance, not +being, as a rule, obstinately left unfenced.</p> + +<p>Many pages of this journal have been +devoted already to the discouragement of +strikes. We have urged invariably that +the one perfect remedy against them is the +opening up of more and better opportunities +of understanding one another, between man +and master. In case we may be supposed +to be ignorant of the feelings about which +we reason, let it be known that every thought—almost +every word—upon this subject +given in the paragraphs that follow will be +the thought or word, not of a speculative +person at a distance, but of a Lancashire millowner. +At the time of the disastrous Preston +strike, a Preston manufacturer, whose men +stood by him honestly and well, published +at Manchester, a little pamphlet;<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> which, +if its counsel had been taken, would assuredly +have made the present strike of +Manchester impossible. Mr. Justice Talfourd’s +last words, placed lately by the men +above their manifesto, was then chosen +as a motto by the masters. Coming, this +gentleman wrote, into Lancashire from a +district where good feeling subsisted between +the employer and the employed, it +was with the utmost surprise that he found +labour and capital to be in a state of antagonism +throughout the country. From the time +when he first began to employ labour in Lancashire, +more than a quarter of a century ago, +he has made it his strict business to study +the system at work around him, and discover +the real causes of the evils that undoubtedly +exist; and he has no hesitation in saying, +that the main cause is a want of cordial +feeling—the absence, in fact, of a good understanding +between the parties to the labour-contract. +This feeling must be established, +he adds, or the case never will be mended. +Such understanding does not come by any +explanations from third parties; it is produced +only by direct and habitual intercourse +between the parties too often at +issue. The Preston manufacturer says that +no doubt the masters in Lancashire help their +men to be intelligent by spending money +liberally upon schools connected directly or +indirectly with their mills. Duty is done +amply; and, for duty’s sake, too, to children; +but, he adds, what is really wanted is the +education of the adult intellect. The minds +of children, having been prepared by the +rudiments of knowledge to receive ideas +(whether good or evil), they are then cast +adrift to gather and continue their education +by absorbing all the notions, all the prejudices, +and all the fallacies with which chance +may surround them. A dispute arises; there +is no sympathy shown to the operatives by +the employers; but much real or pretended +sympathy is shown by the delegates, who tell +them fine-spun theories about the results of +trades’ unions; talk to them in an inflated +manner about their rights and wrongs; tell +them that a strike is the only way of battling +for the right. Such men never interfere without +widening the breach, on which they get a +footing.</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[D]</a> Strikes Prevented. By a Preston Manufacturer. +Galt and Co. 1854.</p> + +</div> + +<p>So far, the Preston manufacturer says what +we have felt and said on numerous occasions. +Now let us see how he not only speaks, but +acts, and how the doing looks which illustrates +the saying.</p> + +<p>In the first place, minor acts of friendship +to the men may be mentioned:—He has +encouraged them to form a Provident Club +in connection with his mill, and given them +all help in it that would not compromise +their independence; at the same time he has +encouraged them also to support the benefit +clubs out of doors. He has liked them to be +led to accumulate savings, never believing +that a store of money in the operative’s +power would facilitate a strike, but rather +knowing that the provident man who has +saved property will be especially unwilling to +see it dissipated. He has provided his men +with a reading-room and a lending library, +and secured a fund for its support, while he +has removed a cause of soreness that exists in +even well-regulated mills, by devoting to their +library the fines levied upon operatives for +faults of discipline. Such fines are necessary, +and the faults for which they are imposed +cost, of course, loss to the millowner for +which they are no real compensation; nevertheless, +if the master puts such shillings into +his own pocket, or, as is sometimes the case, +gives them as pocket-money to a son, experience +declares that they are grudged, and +sometimes counted as extortions. Let the +fine go to the common account of the men, +and the payer of it, instead of being pitied as +the victim of a tyrant, will be laughed at—thanked +for his donation to the library, and +so forth. Practically, also, the result of this +system, as the Preston manufacturer has +found, is to reduce the number of the fines. +Men would so much rather be victims than +butts, that acts of neglect are more determinedly +avoided, though we may suggest the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> +general good feeling in the mill as a much +better reason for the greater care over the +work.</p> + +<p>Left to select, by a committee chosen from +among themselves, the books to be placed in +their library, the men have been found to +prefer those which contained useful knowledge—such +as manuals of popular science, +voyages, and histories.</p> + +<p>So much being done to promote among +the adults increasing intelligence and good +feeling, there remains the most essential +thing, the cornerstone of the whole system. +It has been the practice of this master to promote +weekly discussion—meetings among the +operatives in his employment. Topics of the +day, opinions of the press, the state of trade, +questions concerning competition, discoveries +on practical science or mechanics, especially +such as affect the cotton-trade; and, lastly, +the conduct and discipline of their own mill, +provide plenty of matter for the free play of +opinion. The master takes every possible opportunity +of being present at these meetings; +and, from what he has heard in them concerning +his own mill, the Preston manufacturer +declares that he has derived substantial +advantage. It will, very often, he says, +happen that the men may fancy themselves +to be suffering under a grievance which does +not really exist, and which a very little explanation +will at once remove. Sometimes, +too, a real grievance may be in existence, which +the employer needs only to be informed +of to remedy. In some mills, this master +adds,—such is the fear of the consequence of +being thought a grumbler,—that the men +will often draw lots to determine who shall +be the bearer of a complaint which may have +been long seeking expression.</p> + +<p>With one extract we will sum up the result of +the adoption of this system. “I confess,” says +the Preston manufacturer, “that, at the time, +having control of a large establishment, I +cultivated a habit of meeting and discussing +questions with my workmen, both questions +affecting the public concernment, and questions +relating to our business. I confess +that I derived quite as much benefit from +these discussions as they did; and how much +that was, may be inferred from the fact that, +after the institution of that habit, I never +had a dispute with my operatives. And I +will here say that, at those meetings, I have +heard an amount of sound and various information, +expressed with a native strength +and eloquence such as would have surprised +any one not conversant with the Lancashire +population. It was from those meetings that +I derived the settled conviction which I now +entertain, that the operatives do not lack the +power, but only the means, of forming sound +and independent opinions.”</p> + +<p>We believe that we employ ourselves more +usefully at this juncture in setting forth +general principles like these than in any +attempt, by arbitration as third parties in a +special case, to introduce that which the +Preston manufacturer declares to be only a +fresh element of discord.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_HALL_OF_WINES">THE HALL OF WINES.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>If you mount the Belvedere of the Jardin +des Plantes, at Paris, there is one particular +segment of the panorama which forms a very +complete and singular picture. The right-hand +wing (theatrically speaking) is formed +by Jussieu’s famous cedar of Lebanon, +planted by his own hands in seventeen hundred +and thirty-five; that on the left hand +is a clump of yews, firs, and miscellaneous +evergreens. The heights of Montmartre +crown the horizon; the middle distance is +formed by the line of houses that constitute +the quays on the right bank of the Seine, +broken in the midst by the cupolas of St. +Pol, and a little to the left by the barn-like +roof of St. Louis dans l’Île. But the whole +central space of the landscape is overspread +with what might be a lake of brown mud in +a half-dried and crumpled state, but which, +after a second look, proves a vast expanse of +tiled roofs running in parallel rows, and +slightly diversified by the tops of trees +and by scarcely visible skylights which +break up the gray-brown uniformity. That +petrified mud-lake consists entirely of the +roofs which cover the famous Entrepôt or +Halle-aux-Vins, which Napoleon the First +propounded (by imperial decree) in +<a id="Change03"></a><ins title="Original has 'eightteen'">eighteen</ins> +hundred and eight, on the site of the +Abbey of St. Victor, where Abelard had +listened to the lessons of Guillaume de +Champeaux, and where many good bottles +of ecclesiastical wine had made their disappearance +down monkish throats.</p> + +<p>If your curiosity is sufficiently awakened +to pay the Entrepôt a nearer visit, you will +meet with much to interest. Suppose you +walk down Rue Cuvier,—perhaps one of +these days we shall have Owen Street, and +Faraday Street, in London,—you will reach +the Quai Saint Bernard, with the Seine +rushing rapidly to the left and in front. +You will encounter an eddying stream of +pleasure and of business combined, as if +the whole population of Paris were dancing +a grand Sir Roger de Coverly together; +omnibuses flitting backwards and forwards,—Hirondelles, +Favorites, Gazelles, +Parisiennes; holiday parties laden with eatables, +to be washed down, outside the +Barrière, by wine untaxed by octroi duty; +students and savans bent on taking notes on +botany and comparative anatomy; wine +merchants and their customers with mouths +in tasting trim, bound either for the Halle +itself or for Bercy beyond it; troops of children +with their nurses and grandmothers, +about to spend the afternoon in watching the +monkeys; artisans’ cousins from the interior, +with hearts palpitating at the hope of +beholding living lions, tigers and boa-constrictors,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> +for the first time in their life; not +to mention the man who cuts your portrait +in black paper, with the Arab who jumps +into the air like a goat and lights on his forefeet +like a sportive tomcat, on their way +to compete with the giantess, the learned +pig, and the fortune-telling pony at the +foot of the bridge of Austerlitz. From +all these mundane follies the Halle-aux-Vins +is secluded, in monastic style, by a +light railing covered with stout iron network, +which allows it to gaze at the +Vanity Fair, while it separates it from too +familiar contact with the world. It is in +the crowd—without being of it—a convenient, +friar-like, differenceless distinction. +Exclusiveness, however, of whatever kind, +is more apparent than real. At the bottom +of Rue Cuvier, turn to your right, and +you may enter at once, unless you prefer +walking along the Quai to the principal +entrance, where there is a letter-box, in case +you have a billet-doux to post. The principal +restriction imposed upon a stranger is, +that he is forbidden to smoke amongst the +eaux-de-vie.</p> + +<p>Well, now that you are inside it, what do +you think of it? Is the wine-market of Paris +like any thing else? The name of the establishment +puts the London Docks into your +head; but, beyond their commercial use and +distinction, there is no more analogy between +the London Docks, and this little bit of +fairy-land, than there was between the +caverns of Ætna, where Vulcan made pokers +and tongs, and the slopes of Parnassus where +the Muses danced. The Halle-aux-Vins is +not a building, nor a labyrinthine cellar; it is +a complete town, as perfect and unique in its +way as Pompeii itself. Once a week, indeed, +it resembles the city of the dead; it is silent, +solitary, and closed. No business is transacted +there on Sundays, save only by the +restless spirits which will work unseen, and +which contrive to make their escape invisibly, +however fast they may be imprisoned.</p> + +<p>The Halle is the very concentration and +impersonation of French vinous hilarity. It +would not do for port and sherry, which require +a more solid and stately residence; +nor is it sufficiently whimsical and mediæval +to serve as a rendezvous for Rhenish, Austrian, +and Hungarian volunteers in the grand +army of Jean Raisin. Rudesheimer, Voeslan, +Gumpoldskirchen, or Luttenberg, could not +well sojourn comfortably in any place that +had not a touch of a ruined castle in its +architecture. But the Entrepôt, whose first +stone was laid little more than forty years +back, no more pretends to an elderly and +dignified mien than does the Bal Mabille +(by daylight) or the Château des Fleurs. It +is as tasteful and as elegant as if intended to +serve as a suburban luncheon-place, where +you might call for any known wine in the +world, to be sipped under the shade of +flowering shrubs, to the accompaniment of +sandwiches, sausage-rolls, and ices, handed to +you by white-aproned waiters or rosy-cheeked +and smart-capped damsels.</p> + +<p>Great part of this town consists of houses—summer-houses, +dolls-houses,—of one story, +with one door, one window, and one +chimney; with room in each, for exactly one +more than one inmate. An extra apartment +is sometimes contrived, by means of a bower, +which serves instead of a garden—there +is none—though a great deal of gardening +is done in the Halle, in tubs, flower-pots, +and mignonette-boxes, wherein luxuriant +specimens of the culture are observable; +myrtles, oleanders, lilacs, orange-trees, bay-trees, +and pomegranates, all a-growing and a-blowing. +Favoured mansions possess a garden—sometimes +as much as three or four mètres +square—bedecked with roses, dwarf and +standard, lilies of the valley, violets double +and single, irises displaying some of the +colours of the rainbow, hollyhocks, gilliflowers, +blue-bells, and oyster-shells all in a row. +There is an abundant supply of excellent +water; of course to serve no other purpose +whatever than the refreshment of the aforesaid +favourites of Flora, though people say +more wine is drunk in Paris than ever comes +or came into it.</p> + +<p>The Halle-aux-Vins houses, which put +you in mind of Gulliver’s box in Brobdingnag, +are raised from the ground on separate +blocks of stone, to keep them dry, which +suggests the further idea of the possibility of +their being flown away with by an eagle or +roc, if they had only a convenient ring in the +roof. Of course, the houselings,—detached +and separate; no quarrelling with next-door +neighbours, nor listening to secrets through +thin partition walls,—are ranged in streets, +the perusal of whose simple names is sufficient +to create a vinous thirst. What do +you say to walking out of Rue de Bordeaux +into Rue de Champagne, thence traversing +Rue de Bourgogne, to reach Rue de la +Côte-d’Or, and Rue de Languedoc, before +arriving at Rue de Touraine! The Barmecide’s +guest would have been in ecstacies, in +defiance of the koran, at such a feast.</p> + +<p>Moreover, to make things still more pleasant, +every one of the euphonious alleys and +streets is planted with trees of different ornamental +species,—the lime, the horse-chesnut, +and other arboreal luxuries. It is a +pity that the climate does not permit the +growth of cork-trees, bearing crops of ready-cut +corks, including bungs, long clarets, and +champagne-stoppers. The happy mortal to +whom each little lodge belongs, is indicated +by a legible inscription giving not only the +number of his isolated square counting-house, +according to its place in the alley which it +lines, whether in single or in double row, but +also bearing the town-address of its tenant, +and specifying the special liquors in which +he deals; thus:—“21, Mossenet, Senior, +& Cie.; Quai d’Anjou, 25. Fine wines of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +the Côte-d’Or cellar, Rue de Champagne, 17.” +Similar biographical sketches are given of +other lords of other summer-houses which +wink at you with their Venetian blinds +behind their fences of trelliswork covered +with creeping plants.</p> + +<p>The ground-plan of the Halle-aux-Vins is +formed of square blocks, consisting of magazins, +divided at right angles by the streets +we have traversed. The magazins are appropriately +named after the rivers of France along +whose banks are the most famous vineyards. +The Magazin du Rhone, Magazin de L’Yonne, +Magazin de la Marne, Magazin de la Seine, +and Magazin de la Loire, will serve as guides +to the nomenclature of the rest of the +establishment. Five principal masses of +building are thus divided by clean-swept +streets, whose most conspicuous ornaments, +besides the little thrifty fir-trees, arbor-vitæ, +and junipers in tubs, are groups of all sorts +of casks lying about in picturesque attitudes, +as if they had purposely arranged themselves +in tableaux for the sake of having their portraits +drawn; and drays, which are simply +long-inclined planes balancing on the axle of +the wheel, on which the casks are held by a +rope tightened by a four-handled capstan. +The elevation of the Halle-aux-Vins is pyramidal +in principle. The ground-floor of +the blocks is crossed by galleries from which +you enter cobwebby rather than mouldy cellars, +whose more apt denomination would be +the Bordeaux word chais. Each gallery, a +sort of rectangular tunnel some three hundred +and fifty metres long, is lighted by the +sunshine from a grating above, and is traversed +by a wooden railway for tubs to roll +on straight and soberly. Great precautions +are taken against fire. The galleries are closed +at each end by double doors of iron grating. +The sapeurs pompiers, in various ways, make +their vicinity if not their presence felt.</p> + +<p>Other storehouses, built over the ground-floor +so as to form a second story, are tastefully +surrounded with terraces, on which you +are strictly forbidden to smoke. These upper +magazins are approached from the streets by +inclined planes of road-way for the use of +vehicles; pedestrians, by stepping up light +iron staircases, may more readily breathe +the air of the terrace, while sounds of tapping +and wine-coopering mingle with the hum of +the adjacent city, with the passing music of +some military band, or with the roar and the +scream of the captive creatures which are +stared at by the crowd in the Jardin des +Plantes. Vinous and spirituous smells float +in the atmosphere from the full casks which +lie about, in spite of the coating of plaster +with which their ends are covered; and +we draw nigh to the vaulted magazins of +eau de vie, where every brandy-seller has +his own proper numbered store, lighted +from above by little square skylights, and +where roam groups of inquisitive tasters, +or spirit-rappers, anxious to pry into secrets +that are closely veiled from the vulgar herd. +The sanctum of the shrine is the Depotoir +Public, or public gauging and mixing apparatus +of cylindrical receivers, and glass-graduated +brandyometers, and cranes for +raising the barrels to the top of the cylinders. +In this presence-chamber of alcoholic +majesty, etiquette is strictly observed. Conformably +with the rules and regulations of +the Entrepôt, the conservator apprises Messieurs +the merchants that they are required +to mind their P’s and Q’s. It is no more +allowable to meddle with the machinery, +or to intrude behind the mystic cylinders, +than it is to make playthings of the furniture +which adorns the altar of a cathedral.</p> + +<p>There are paradoxical facts connected with +the Halle-aux-Vins which none but the thoroughly +initiated can solve. Perhaps it may +afford a clue to know that there are two +emporia of wine and spirit at Paris; one, +the Halle within the barrière, and, therefore +subject to the octroi tax, and more +immediately connected with the supply of +the city itself—the other, Bercy, close by, +but outside the barrière, and consequently +filled with the goods yet untouched by the +troublesome impost. Large as it is, the +Entrepôt is not large enough; were it twice +as big, it would all be hired. For, of all +trades in Paris, the wine-trade is the most +considerable. There are now nearly seven +hundred wholesale merchants, and about +three thousand five hundred retail dealers, +without reckoning the épiciers, or grocers, +who usually sell wines, spirits, and liqueurs +in bottle; taking no account of the innumerable +houses where they give to eat, +and also give to drink. Not only is it the +mission of Parisian commerce to moisten +the throats of the metropolis, but it is the +natural intermediary of the alcoholic beverages +that are consumed in the vineyardless +districts of France. The twentieth part +of the produce of the empire travels to +Paris. But, as the imposts on their arrival +are very heavy and moreover press only +on the local consumption, means have been +taken to store the merchandise in such a +way as not to pay the duty till the moment +of its sale to the consumer. Hence, +there is established on the bank of the +Seine where Bercy stands, an assemblage +of a thousand or twelve hundred cellars and +warehouses—a sort of inland bonding-place—outside +the limits of the octroi tax. These +are hired by the merchants of the city as +receptacles for their stock in hand.</p> + +<p>The buildings of the Halle-aux-Vins, within +the fiscal boundary, cost altogether thirty +millions of francs, estimating the value of +the site at one third of that sum. The speculation, +however, has not hitherto responded +to the hopes that were entertained at the +time when it was founded. Whether the +rentals (which vary from two francs and a +half to five francs the superficial mètre), are<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +fixed at too low a figure, or whether the +wine-merchants, disliking to be watched and +hindered in the performance of their trade +manipulations, prefer their private magazins +at Bercy, the Entrepôt brings in to the +city of Paris no more than three hundred +thousand francs clear a year, that is, about +one per cent for the capital employed. That +Jean Raisin is somewhere made the subject +of certain mystic rites which are scrupulously +screened from public observation may be proved +by the simple rules of addition and subtraction.</p> + +<p>The wine-trade of Paris amounts to two +million two hundred thousand hectolitres; +four hundred thousand are consumed in the +banlieue, outside the barrière, and seven +hundred thousand are sent away, to supply +the northern departments. What then becomes +of the one million one hundred thousand +which are left at Paris? It is made +into one million four hundred thousand hectolitres! +It may be calculated from the price +at the vineyard, the carriage, the taxes, and +other etceteras, that unadulterated wine, of +however inferior a quality, cannot be sold in +Paris for less than half a franc, or fifty centimes, +the litre. Now, for considerable quantities +retailed in cabarets, the price is as low +as forty centimes. The equilibrium is reestablished +by clandestine and fraudulent +manufacture. On ordinary common wines +it is practised to the extent of increasing them +on the average as much as three-tenths. +Various sweet ingredients are fermented in +water. A farmer travelling from Orleans in +the same railway carriage with myself, showed +me without the slightest hesitation, or concealment, +a sample of dried pears which he +was taking to Paris to sell to the Bercy wine-brewers. +Very inferior raisins, dried fruits +in general, and coarse brown sugar, enter into +the magic broth. To complete the charm, +an addition is made of some high-coloured +wine from the south, a little alcohol, and a +dash of vinegar and tartaric acid. Such preparations +as these are harmless enough; +they become grateful to the palate that is +habituated to them; and certain adroit manipulators +succeed in producing a beverage +which attains considerable reputation +amongst a wide circle of amateurs. Certainly +the so-called petit Macon you get at +Paris is a most agreeable drink, when good +of its kind. At respectable restaurants, +drinking it from a sealed bottle, you may +reckon with tolerable safety on its genuineness. +In wine shops, where wine is drunk +from the cask, its purity is not so certain. The +great test is, that manufactured and even light +wines will not keep; they must be consumed, +like a glass of soda water, as soon as they +are ready for the lip. It is said that the +lamented Fum the Fourth had a bin of choice +wine which he would allow no one to taste, +except on special occasions when he chose to +call for it himself. But a king, however low +he may descend, can hardly go down the +cellar-steps with a bunch of keys in one hand +and a tallow candle in the other, to decant +his own favourite port and sherry. One +morning, his Majesty decided that the evening’s +feast should be graced by the appearance +of some of the treasured nectar. Of +course, the underlings had drunk it all themselves, +except a single bottle, which they had +the marvellous modesty to leave. What +was to be done? A panting cupbearer was +sent with the final remnant to procure from +a confidential purveyor to the palace something +as nearly like it as possible. “You +shall have it by dinner-time,” said the friend +in need; “and by letting me know any +morning, you may have more to any extent +you want. But,” said the benevolent wizard, +in tones of warning—“but, remember, it +must be all consumed the same night. It will +not keep till next day.”</p> + +<p>I hope the impromptu wine-maker was +duly careful of the royal health. But in +Paris there are said to be a number of cabaretiers, +who, from the lees of wine mixed +with a decoction of prunes doctored with logwood, +sugar of lead, sugar, and eau-de-vie, +metamorphose wholesome fountain-water +into an infamous potion, which they shamelessly +sell as the juice of the grape. The +French Encyclopédie, in its article “Vin,” +gives a large number of serviceable receipts, +which may or may not have been tested at +Bercy. If effectual, their value is beyond +all price. An elixir to improve instantly +the most common wine; A mode of giving +to the wine of the worst soil the best quality +and the most agreeable taste; A mode of +giving to ordinary wines the flavour of +Malmsey, Muscat, Alicant, and sherry; The +manner of knowing whether there be water +in the wine; The means of restoring wine +that is changed; Remarks on bottles which +spoil the wine; and, The method of improving +and clarifying all sorts of wines, whether +new or old; would alone be quite sufficient +to make the fortune of any man who could +scrape a hundred francs together, and with +that immense capital start as Parisian wine-merchant. +The particulars of these prescriptions +are unnecessary for the reader, +especially, seeing that I have given him the +reference; but I cannot resist transferring +for his edification, from L’Editeur, an Oran +(Algerian) newspaper for the eighth of November +last, an advertisement, giving real +names relative to the Liqueur +<a id="Change04"></a><ins title="Original has 'Transforest'">Trasforest</ins>, +of +<a id="Change05"></a><ins title="Original has 'Bourdeaux'">Bordeaux</ins>:—</p> + +<p>“This precious composition, very advantageously +known for a long time past, and +recently brought to perfection by its author, +gives to wine of the most inferior crûs a +delicious richness, which is easily confounded +with the true richness of the Médoc; consequently, +it is well appreciated by connoisseurs, +who give it the preference over all +preparations of this nature. Messieurs the +proprietors, merchants, and consumers, who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> +have not yet employed it, are invited to +make a trial of it; there is no doubt as to +their being convinced of its excellent properties +by the advantages they will derive from +it, especially to consignments to beyond the +seas. [Much obliged to the philanthropic +House of Trasforest.] A great number of +retail dealers owe the preference which they +enjoy, to this aromatic liquor, which is an +agent proper for the preservation of wine, at +the same time that it imparts to it a very +superior quality and value by the delicate +bouquet which it communicates.</p> + +<p>“To employ the Liqueur Trasforest properly, +you ought in the first place to whip up +the wine; let it remain about fifteen days; +and not add the Liqueur until the wine is +drawn off, so that its mixture with the wine +may be perfect. After several days of rest +it may be put in bottle; the aroma keeps +indefinitely. [That may mean for an indefinitely +short period.] Twenty years’ experience +and success prove that the high +reputation of this excellent production is +incontestably merited. A flask suffices to +perfume, bonify, and age, a hogshead (barrique) +of wine. Price one franc fifty centimes. +An allowance of twenty per cent. to wholesale +dealers. Orders attended to for ready-money +payment. Beware of imitations.</p> + +<p>“General entrepôt and special manufacture: +Maison Trasforest, Rue Dauphine, 35, +and Rue Saint-Martin, 56, opposite the Cours +d’Albrest, <a id="Change06"></a><ins title="Original has 'Bourdeaux'">Bordeaux</ins>. +(Prepay orders and +their answers.) Sole depôt in Oran at the +office of the journal L’Editeur. At the same +depôt may be had the Gelatinous Powder, +for the complete, absolute, and instantaneous +clarification of white and red wines, vinegars, +eaux-de-vie, and liqueurs.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THREE_WIVES">THREE WIVES.</h2> +</div> + + +<p>I have besides my town residence in Cecil +Street—which is confined to a suite of two +apartments on the second-floor—a very +pleasant country-house belonging to a friend +of mine in Devonshire; this latter is my +favourite seat, and the abode which I prefer +to call my home. I like it well when its +encircling glens are loud with rooks, and +their great nests are being set up high in the +rocking branches; I like it when the butterflies, +those courtly ushers of the summer, are +doing their noiseless mission in its southern +garden, or on the shaven lawn before its +front; I like it when its balustraded roof +looks down upon a sea of golden corn and +islands of green orchards flushed with fruit; +but most it pleases me when logs are roaring +in its mighty chimneys, and Christmas time is +come. Six abreast the witches might ride up +them, let their broomsticks prance and curvet +as they would. If you entered the hall by the +great doors while Robert Chetwood and myself +were at our game of billiards at its further +end, you could not recognise our features. +The galleries are studies of perspective, and +the bare, shining staircases as broad as carriage +ways. The library, set round from the +thick carpet to the sculptured ceiling with +ancient books, with brazen clasps, and old-world +types, and worm-drilled bindings. The +chapel, with its blazoned saints on the dim +windows, and the mighty corridors with +floors of oak and sides of tapestry, are +pictures of the past, and teach whole chapters +of the book of history: Red Rose and White +Rose, Cavalier and Roundhead, Papist and +Protestant, Orangeman and Jacobite have +each had their day in Old Tremadyn House. +When the great doors slam together, as they +sometimes will, to the inexpressible terror of +the London butler, they awake a series of +thunderclaps which roll from basement to +garret: many a warning have they given, in +the good old times, to Tremadyns hiding for +their lives, and many an arras has been raised +and mirror slipped to right or left at that +menacing sound. To this day, Robert Chetwood +often comes anew upon some hold in +which, those who ruled before him have +skulked—sometimes in his own reception-rooms, +but more commonly in the great chambers +where he puts his guests. These chambers +are colossal, with huge carved pillars +bearing up a firmament of needlework, and +dressing-closets large enough for dining-rooms. +Every person of note who could +or could not by possibility of date or circumstance +have slept therein have had the credit +of passing a night within Tremadyn House, +from the Wandering Jew, Shakespeare, Queen +Elizabeth, down to Charles the First, Peter +the Great, and the late Emperor Nicholas. +There has been more than one murder in +the Red room, several suicides in the Blue, +and one ghost still haunts those spots in expiation. +Tremadyns in lace cuffs and wigs; +in scarlet and ermine; in armour from top +to toe, line both the galleries—sold by the +last Charles Surface of a dissolute race for +ten pounds ten shillings a head. One great +Tremadyn dynasty has passed away; Robert +Chetwood, late banker in the City of London, +not so long ago banker’s clerk, now reigneth +in their stead. The Tremadyns came in at +the time of the siege of Jericho, or thereabouts, +and the Chetwoods about ten years +before the siege of Sebastopol; but there +the advantage ceases. There is no man +kinder to the poor, no man more courteous +to all men, no man, whatever his quarterings, +in all Devonshire with a better heart +than Robert Chetwood. Tremadyn House +is open to the county, as it ever was, and his +old London friends are not forgotten; a hale +and hearty gentleman indeed he is, but he has +had many troubles; he is as happy as any +man bereaved of children can be, and it was +the loss of them that made him buy the house +and give up his old haunts and busy way—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">He saw the nursery windows wide open to the air,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But the faces of the children they were no longer there;</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p> +<p>and that, wherever it may be, is too sad a +sight to look upon.</p> + +<p>But what a wife the old man had, to +make up, as it seemed even to me, for all! +I say to me, for one of those lost children, +a maiden of seventeen, was my betrothed +bride—the gentlest and most gracious creature +eyes ever looked upon; I think if I +could write my thoughts of her, I should +move those to tears who never saw her face, +when they read “Gertrude died.” She gave +herself to me: the old man never could have +given her. I say no more.</p> + +<p>This is why Tremadyn House has become +to me a home. It pleases Robert Chetwood to +have his friend’s son with him, above all, because +he was his daughter’s plighted husband, +and my father’s friend is trebly dear to me as +Gertrude’s father. When the Christmas party +has dispersed, and the great house is quite +emptied of its score of guests, I still remain +with the old couple over the new year. They +call me son, as though I were their son, and I +call them my parents. If Heaven had willed +it so, dear Gertrude and myself could not +have hoped for greater wedded happiness, +more love between us, than is between those +two. “Perhaps,” he says, with a smile I +never saw a young man wear, “perhaps it is +that my old eyes are getting dim and untrustworthy, +but Charlotte seems to me +the dearest and most pleasant-looking dame +in all the world.” And his wife makes +answer that her sight also is just as little to +be depended on. To each of them has come +the silver hair, and the reverence with it that +alone makes it beautiful; and if their steps +are slower than in youth, it is not because +their hearts are heavier; they are indeed of +those, so rare ones, who make us in love with +life down even to its close. They always +seemed to me as having climbed the hill together +their whole lives long, and never was +I more astonished than upon this new year’s +eve, when, Mrs. Chetwood being with us +two in after-dinner talk, as custom was when +all her guests were gone, her husband told +this history. He had always talked quite +openly to me,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">A pair of friends, though I was young,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And Robert, seventy-two;</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>and then, at the end of another year of +love and confidence, I could not resist inquiring +of them how long they two had +been one.</p> + +<p>“Well, on my word, George,” said the dear +old lady, “you should be more discreet than +to ask such questions.”</p> + +<p>But her husband answered readily:</p> + +<p>“This thirty years. I’ve been a married +man myself this half-a-century.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you don’t mean to say——” said I.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “Of course +I do. Charlotte has been my wife too long, +I hope, to be jealous now of either Kate +or Mary; but I loved them each in turn +almost as dearly as I love her. Charlotte,” +he added, turning towards her as she sat +in the great arm-chair, “you don’t mind +George being told about my other two wives, +do you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind your talking of Mary +much,” she answered, “but get over that +young Kate’s story as quickly as you can, +please.”</p> + +<p>And I really thought I detected a blush +come over her dear old face while she was +speaking.</p> + +<p>“It is rather less than half a century ago,” +he began, “since I first set foot in this beautiful +Devon county. I came down on a short +holiday from London, in the summer time, to +fish, and I brought with me, besides my rod +and basket, a portmanteau full of clothes and +about twenty-five pounds in gold, which was +the whole amount of my savings. I was +junior clerk in a house at that day, with one +hundred and twenty pounds a-year, and with +as much chance of becoming a partner as +you, my dear briefless Charles, have of sitting +on the woolsack. From the top of Tremadyn +House I could point you out the farm-house +where I lodged, and will some day take you +to see it,—a mighty homestead, with a huge +portico of stone and flights of stone steps +leading to the upper chambers from without. +On one side was the farm-yard, filled +with swine and poultry, with open stalls for +cattle, and enormous barns, not so well kept +or neat, perhaps, as the present day requires, +but a perfect picture of plenty; on the other +stood the cider-presses, and beyond, the +apple orchards, white with promise, red with +fruit, made the air faint with fragrance; half +orchard was the garden, too, in fruit, through +which, beneath a rustic bridge, my trout +stream wandered. Charlotte, you know the +place—have I not painted it?”</p> + +<p>“You have, Robert,” she said. The tears +were in her eyes, ready to fall, I saw.</p> + +<p>“There, then, I met Katie. The good +man of the house was childless, and she, his +cousin, was well cared for as his child. It +was no wonder, George: the dark oak +parlour seemed to need no light when she +shone in it. Like a sunbeam gliding over +common places, whatever household matters +busied her she graced. Some sweet art +seemed to lie in her, superior to mere neatness, +as high-heartedness excelleth pride. +I put on salmon flies to catch trout. +I often fished without any hook at all. I +strove to image her fair face and form in the +clear waters, by the side of that hapless +similitude of myself—the reflex of a forlorn +youth in his first love. I did my best at haymaking +to please her. I took eternal lessons +in the art of making Devon cheese. I got at +last so far as to kiss her hand. I drew a +little, and she sat to me for her portrait. We +sallied out a mushrooming and getting wild +flowers, and on our way sang pleasant songs +together, and interchanged our little stores<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> +of reading. On the eve before my long put-off +departure we were thus roaming: we had +to cross a hundred stiles—the choicest blessings +of this country I used to think them—and +once, instead of offering my hand to +help her over, I held out both my arms, +and, upon my life, George, the dear girl +jumped right into them; and that was how +I got to kiss her cheek.”</p> + +<p>“What shocking stories you are telling, +Robert,” said Mrs. Chetwood, and certainly +she was then blushing up under her lace cap +to her white hair.</p> + +<p>“Well, my dear, nobody was there except +Kate and myself, and I think I must know +what happened, at least as well as you do: +so,” he continued, “after one more visit to +the farm-house, Kate and I were married; +she gave up all her healthy ways and country +pleasures to come and live with me in the +busy town; studious of others’ happiness, +careful for others’ pain; at all times forgetful +of herself: active and diligent, she had ever +leisure for a pleasant word and a kind action; +and for beauty, no maid nor wife in the world +was fit, I believe, to compare with her; to +you, George, who knew and loved our dearest +Gertrude, I need not describe her mother. +She was not long with me, but it soon +seemed as if it must have cost my life to +have parted with her; yet the girlish glory +faded, and the sparkling spirit fled, and the +day has been forgiven, though forgotten +never, which took my darling Katie from +my side.”</p> + +<p>The old man paused a little here. Mrs. +Chetwood kissed him softly upon the +cheek.</p> + +<p>“My second wife,” he resumed, “was not so +young, and certainly had not the outward +graces of my first. She was beautiful, too, in +the flower as Kate was in the bud; her face +had not the vivacity, nor her eyes the dancing +light of Katie’s, but there sat such a serenity +upon her features, as we sometimes see upon +a lovely landscape when the sun is near its +setting; a look which no man ever tires of; +and Mary bore me children, and then, much +as I had loved the sapling, it seemed to me +that the full-fruited tree was dearer yet. She +was no country girl from the Devon dales, +but a town lady, bred. I had a great house +by that time, with all things fitting about me, +and my sphere was hers. The pearls suited +her pleasant brow, and crowned her still +raven tresses as becomingly as the single +rose in her hair had adorned simple Kate. +I think, if I may say so without ingratitude +for my present great happiness, and with the +leave of my dear Charlotte, that the happiest +hours of my life were spent during those +days, when our two children’s voices rang +cheerily over the house, and some little +scheme of pleasure for them was my everyday +desire and Mary’s. Even at the terrible +time when boy and girl were being taken +from us at once, never did their patient mother +seem more dear to me; from when the +hush of sickness stole upon us at first, to +the day when that white procession left our +doors, what a healing spirit was she! When +we thought that the thickly folded veil of +sorrow had fallen over us for ever, how tenderly +she put it aside!</p> + +<p>“It must needs have happened that my +speech has here been melancholy, but indeed +I should not speak of Mary so. She was the +blythest, cheerfullest, most comfortable +middle-aged wife that man ever had; behind +our very darkest trouble a smile +was always lying ready to struggle through +it, and what a light it shed! One of +your resigned immoveable females, who accept +every blessing as a temptation, and submit, +with precisely the same feelings to what +they call every chastening, would have killed +me in a week. George, my Mary acted at all +times according to her nature, and that nature +was as beautiful and blessed as ever fell to +the lot of womankind. You might well +think that Kate and Mary were two prizes +great enough for one man to draw out of the +marriage lottery, and yet I drew another. +When I lost my beloved Mary, my third wife +took her place in my inmost heart.</p> + +<p>“Kiss me, Charlotte,” said the old man, +tenderly, and again she kissed him on the +cheek. “And now,” continued he, “let us +fill our glasses, for the New Year is coming +on apace; and please to drink to the memory +of my two wives, and to the health of her who +is still left to me. The two first toasts must +necessarily be somewhat painful to my dear +Charlotte, and we will, therefore, receive +them in silence, but the third we must drink +with all the honours.”</p> + +<p>So after those, he stood up, glass in hand; +and said to her,</p> + +<p>“Kate, Mary, Charlotte,—bride, matron, +and dame in one, to whom I have been +wedded this half-century,—for I have had +no other wife, George,—God bless you, +dear old heart! We have had a merry Christmas, +as we have ever had, and I trust it may +be permitted to us to have, still together, one +more happy New Year. Hip! hip! hip! +Hurrah!” and the echoes of our three times +three seemed cheerily to roam all night about +Tremadyn House.</p> + + + +<hr class="full"> +<p class="center">Now ready, Price Five Shillings and Sixpence, cloth +boards,</p> + +<h2>THE TWELFTH VOLUME</h2> +<p class="center">OF</p> +<p class="center"><b>HOUSEHOLD WORDS</b>,</p> + + +<p class="center">Containing from No. 280 to No. 303 (both inclusive), +and the extra Christmas Number.</p> +<hr class="full"> + +<p><i>The Right of Translating Articles from</i> <span class="smcap">Household Words</span> <i>is reserved by the Authors</i>.</p> + +<p>Published at the Office, No. 16, Wellington Street North, Strand. Printed by <span class="smcap">Bradbury & Evans</span>, Whitefriars, London. +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="transnote"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2> + +<p>This is from Volume XIII of the series.</p> + +<p>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +<p>Transcriber has generated a Table of Contents.</p> + +<p>Apparently misspelled words have been changed:<br> +<a href="#Change01">page 11</a>, where “cuting” has been changed to “cutting”.<br> +<a href="#Change02">page 14</a>, where “frightning” has been changed to “frightening”.<br> +<a href="#Change03">page 18</a>, where “eightteen” has been changed to “eighteen”.<br> +<a href="#Change04">page 21</a>, where “Transforest” has been changed to “Trasforest”.<br> +<a href="#Change05">page 21</a>, where “Bourdeaux” has been changed to “Bordeaux”.<br> +<a href="#Change06">page 22</a>, where “Bourdeaux” has been changed to “Bordeaux”.<br> +</p> +<p>Punctuation anomalies have been changed:<br> +<a href="#Change07">page 3</a>, inserted comma after “wig”, in “the wig, the paralytic head”<br> +<a href="#Change08">page 7</a>, changed period to comma, at end of line “protected by a pallisade,”<br> +<a href="#Change09">page 7</a>, changed comma to period, at end of line “fortification of Bélogorsk.”<br> +<a href="#Change10">page 16</a>, changed hyphen to period, at end of line “wrong when doctoring himself.”<br> +</p> + +</div> + + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75344 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75344-h/images/cover.jpg b/75344-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..23e9514 --- /dev/null +++ b/75344-h/images/cover.jpg |
